It was Sunday, February fourth, Anthony's birthday.
Yesterday afternoon as soon as Sören had gotten out of work, the four bundled themselves and the cats into Mark's Jaguar and went to Brighton, to the vacation home that once belonged to Anthony's parents and now belonged to Anthony himself. Though Brighton was more popular during the summer, Nicholas thought the beach had its own charm in the winter, and the others agreed. They would be heading back Monday morning - Anthony and Nicholas were both taking the day off from work, and Sören didn't have to go into work until Monday night. Even so, the visit felt all too brief; Nicholas would have enjoyed a full week's holiday.
But they were determined to make the most of it, so after sleeping in on Sunday morning, they spent Sunday daytime visiting the city and its quirky shops and the Royal Pavilion and the Palace Pier. Anthony had to use his wheelchair if he was going long distances - his partners' acceptance of him had helped to ease his self-consciousness, but Nicholas could tell some of that anxiety had returned, with Anthony glancing frequently at Mark, trying to hide those glances. Mark was very nonchalant about it, however, and when Sören wanted to go on some of the rides, Mark offered to hang back - which made Sören drag Nicholas along to join him. Nicholas found himself having fun despite his misgivings on the rides... and it was good to see Mark sitting with Anthony, the two of them chatting and joking like there had never been any bad blood.
On their way back to the cottage, Nicholas's curiosity got the better of him. Have the two of you talked about... things? Nicholas spoke into Anthony's mind.
There was a pause, then Anthony let out a sigh and simply shook his head where Nicholas could see it in the rear-view mirror.
Drat. Nicholas folded his arms. He gave Mark a disapproving look, who continued focusing on the road. Nicholas continued, I was really hoping that perhaps the two of you could reconcile for your birthday -
If you want me to have a happy birthday, let's not have this discussion, OK? Anthony kicked Nicholas's seat.
It started to drizzle when they arrived at the beach house, raining harder once they'd gotten inside. The cats meowed in protest of them being gone during the day, and after some pettings and skritchings and a fresh can of food, the three cats were mostly content. Nicholas got dinner started, working on Elaine's recipe for a chicken and rice casserole that was one of Anthony's comfort foods. Yesterday, Nicholas had baked a cake for Anthony - lemon, with buttercream frosting and a ring of strawberries - which was sitting in the fridge.
As dinner cooked, Nicholas and Mark played chess while Sören and Anthony played Sonic the Hedgehog. Nicholas noticed that every now and again, Mark looked over at them with wistfulness in his eyes. After the fifth time, Nicholas heard himself make a noise. Sören and Anthony glanced over, and Nicholas cleared his throat.
"Pardon me. I think I need a cold beverage." Nicholas got up and walked to the fridge. "Does anyone want anything while I'm up?" Nicholas spoke into Mark's mind. A glass of courage?
Mark snorted, and then covered his mouth. Anthony raised an eyebrow, a sign that he knew something had been communicated.
Let Anthony have peace on his birthday, Mark shot back.
Nicholas sighed as he got out a bottle of Perrier.
When dinner was close to being ready, Nicholas called Sören up so Sören could do the honors of putting candles on Anthony's cake. As Sören was adding the candles, Anthony wandered over and stole a bit of frosting from the edge of the plate, sucking his finger with a naughty look in his eyes. Sören swatted Anthony's bottom and Anthony limped off, chuckling.
Anthony was turning thirty-eight this year, and Sören remarked on it once all the candles were on. "I met Anthony when he was thirty-one. Hard to believe it's been that long."
Nicholas put a hand on Sören's shoulder. Just the few short years they'd been together - since February 2015 - felt like decades. Nicholas knew it felt like longer than that for Sören and Anthony.
After dinner Sören lit the candles on the cake and carried it over. Sören, Nicholas and Mark sang "Happy Birthday", and at the "and many more" Mark looked away, wincing as if he were in pain.
As it turned out, the birthday cake candles Sören had bought were the trick candles that relit when they were blown out. Nicholas facepalmed with a groan and a chuckle. "I should have known better than to let you buy the candles, Fëanáro."
Sören grinned. "As you know -"
Anthony plucked off a strawberry and shoved it in Sören's mouth.
After a few attempts the candles went out for good, the cake was cut, and pieces served. With the cake, it was also time for Anthony to receive his birthday gifts.
Nicholas went first. He had gotten Anthony an antique pocketwatch like his own. "I thought this might look well with your suits, if you felt like leaving the Rolex at home one day."
Anthony hugged him and gave him a little kiss. "That's such a fatherly type of gift." He turned pink. "Thanks, Dad."
Now Mark went beetroot, and looked away again. Nicholas gave a soft sigh, wishing Mark and Anthony would just have it out already. Not the least of which being, Nicholas was aching for Mark to join them in their pleasures like he had done so long ago.
Mark's gift was Alice Coltrane on vinyl, autographed. "To go with your other records of hers... and what she signed when I took you to meet her in 1999."
Anthony's eyes were too bright, and he swallowed hard. "Th-thank you, Mark. I..." Anthony tried to smile. "That's very thoughtful."
And poignant, Nicholas thought to himself, hurting for Anthony and Mark all over again, the love that had blossomed and died too soon but had been, to all accounts, so very beautiful in its brief life.
"I have two gifts for you," Sören said. "The first, is something for each of us. Mark already got his a few days ago." Sören pulled out a Build-A-Bear bag from under the coffee table. He handed a plush dragon to Anthony, then one to Nicholas, then put his own on his lap before hugging it. Seumas came over to sniff and rub his face on the soft toys, marking his scent.
"What in the world?" Nicholas laughed softly. It was ridiculous, but also adorable and heartwarming - much like Sören himself.
"They're brothers, like we are." Sören continued giving his dragon a wiggly hug. "And now Finn and Tony and Bláberja can have friends."
Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "You're so fucking cute."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "Finn?"
Anthony turned pink again. "Er, my stuffed lion."
Mark laughed softly. "You named him Finn."
"Yeah, I know." Anthony laughed too. "It's amazing what a part of me knew, even back then."
Mark and Anthony's eyes met, and held, and Nicholas felt like screaming. Nicholas's eyes met Sören's across the room and Sören shouted into his mind: I KNOW. THESE FUCKING IDIOTS.
Sören made Anthony's dragon hop around. "A muppet, for a muppet."
Anthony swatted Sören with the dragon. "Oh you."
Sören turned to Mark and explained, "So one night, a few years ago, Anthony went out drinking with the circle of friends we used to have -"
"Oh no, not this." Anthony laughed, rolling his eyes, turning red.
"And he got really shitfaced, and when I called him, he answered his phone, I am not joking, 'Anthony Muppet-Johnson'."
Mark doubled over, shaking, tearing up. He nodded vehemently. "That sounds like something a drunk Anthony would do. Even sober, he's something else."
"Sounds like you have a story," Nicholas said, his curiosity piqued. "Or stories."
"A few. Off the top of my head - Anthony and I went punting around the river at Cambridge and there were swans hanging out in back of St. John's and I told him that the fellows of St. John's are the only people in England legally allowed to eat swan besides the royal family and he got all wide-eyed and screamed, 'NO! SWANS ARE FRIENDS, NOT FOOD!'" Mark grinned, laughing harder. "It was precious." Then he realized what he'd said and looked away again.
Nicholas and Sören both laughed. Nicholas gave Anthony a fond smile. "That he is."
Anthony buried his face in his hands, made noises, and then he took his face out of his hands, laughing too. Sören opened his mouth and before Sören could say anything - like telling them to just kiss already, or fuck - Anthony tugged on Sören's shirt sleeve. "What's the other thing? You said you got me two gifts."
Sören cleared his throat. Nicholas and Mark watched as Sören got up, pulled a small box out of his jeans pocket, and then got down on his knees in front of Anthony. Anthony's mouth opened and his eyes widened as Sören opened the box to reveal a curved platinum band set with a single sparkling diamond. "I'm not asking to do this now, while Nicholas is still with us, but someday, when..." Sören's voice trailed off; he looked over, gave Nicholas an apologetic smile, and Nicholas smiled back. Sören turned back to Anthony. "You asked me to marry you, but now it's my turn: Cornelius Anthony Hewlett-Johnson, will you marry me?"
Anthony covered his mouth and for the briefest instant Nicholas worried Anthony would say no, not wanting Sören's hopes to be crushed - and then Anthony reached his arms out for Sören, who rose up, into Anthony's arms. Anthony kissed him passionately before he broke down crying, nodding. "Yes," he choked out. "A thousand times, yes."
Sören let out a sob and they kissed again, holding each other tight, rocking, crying, kissing. Mark gave a slow clap and now it was Nicholas's turn to tear up, genuinely happy for both of them...
...happy and relieved. Nicholas's mind's eye played a vision of the past, when they were in exile on the Helcaraxë, and Fëanor sent Finarfin away. Finarfin had been such a stabilizing influence on Fëanor, and with him gone, Fëanor descended into his trauma, his grief, his rage, and it was then the ship-burning happened. Almost killing one of his sons in the process. It was the last time Fëanor and Fingolfin had seen each other. Nicholas knew, of course, that his own pushing away of Fëanor after their father's death - believing they had been punished for their sin - was part of the problem, and in the few brief days Nicholas and Sören had been apart in late 2016, it was like losing a limb, both of them the worse for their separation. But Nicholas knew that losing Finarfin had utterly destroyed Fëanor, the final blow, and what had happened with Sören and Anthony in this life had devastated them both. Now Nicholas didn't have to worry history would repeat itself. He knew how seriously Sören took his commitments, how fiercely loyal he was - loyalty that he inspired, and expected, in those closest to him. To know Sören and Anthony were willing to put the power of the law behind their bond did Nicholas's heart good. He had worried about Sören slipping into depression once he was gone in ten or twenty years. Anthony would be there, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer.
"Good," Nicholas said. He went to the fridge to break out the champagne he'd been meaning to serve tonight, waiting for the right time. "Very, very good."
After Nicholas handed out the champagne glasses, and took his seat on the other side of Sören, Anthony reached over and put a hand on Nicholas's cheek.
"And you're... you're OK with this? Maybe you and Sören should get married first..." Anthony bit his lower lip, giving Sören a nervous glance, then back at Nicholas.
Sören turned to Nicholas as if to say well?
Nicholas chuckled, feeling like he'd been put on the spot. The thought of marrying Sören had some appeal, but he had been a Roman Catholic priest for the better part of a decade - what he understood now was a holdover from his life as Fingolfin, believing in his latter years he had been punished by the gods, seeking atonement - and even a secular marriage ceremony performed by a Humanist officiant still felt a little too much like upholding the religious institutions he had turned his back on so bitterly. "Sören and I don't need a piece of paper," Nicholas said, and then he quickly put his hand on Anthony's arm, realizing how that sounded, not wanting to invalidate his and Sören's need to make this official someday. "I am truly fine with it. I encourage it, you two have been a part of each other's lives a long time now."
"You're sure." Anthony cocked his head to one side.
"I would not say it was fine if it wasn't. As you know, I shan't restrain myself if I have a negative opinion, you know me by now."
Sören and Anthony exchanged amused glances, and Nicholas could almost hear it: There he goes again.
"Well, you needn't worry," Sören said, smirking, leaning in to kiss Nicholas's cheek, then the tip of his nose. "I don't want you to feel in any way shape or form like you're being left out, like I'm playing favorites between the two of you -"
"I don't." Nicholas tousled Sören's curls. Sören's love was overwhelming, like being immolated.
"And like I said, this is after..." Sören sighed and looked down. "Not that I want it to be any time soon. Or, you know, like, ever. I..." Sören looked up, eyes misting again. His jaw trembled. "I..."
"It's all right, sweetheart, I know." Nicholas took Sören's hand and squeezed, also tearing up - even with having Anthony, Nicholas knew his eventual loss would wound Sören, and he hated that. He'd gotten over feeling like he was robbing Sören by not being younger, but he would rather cut out his own heart than cause Sören any pain. "As I said, I'm not offended. I know you're not wishing to hasten my death, but I am sixty-nine now -"
"Nice," Anthony said.
Sören snorted, and Nicholas shook his head. Anthony tried to keep a straight face but his lips quirked and his eyes crinkled at the corners.
Don't encourage him, Nicholas spoke into Anthony's mind.
Like he needs encouraging.
"ANYWAY," Nicholas said, pretending to be annoyed, trying not to laugh himself - then Sören wiggled his eyebrows and he was done, spilling champagne on himself as he shook. "Brat."
Sören stuck his tongue out.
"Fëanáro, we are trying to have a serious discussion."
"I agree." Then Sören farted.
Nicholas facepalmed, and gave Mark a pleading look.
"He was always like this," Mark said, and added, "...as you know."
Anthony cackled. Nicholas gave an exaggerated groan. When they composed themselves, Nicholas said, "It is better to think realistically about the future. As you know, I shan't be around forever. I would rather know there are plans... that you will be taken care of."
Sören leaned on him. "If I could make you immortal, I would."
"If I could make you all immortal, I would," Mark said softly.
Nicholas was deeply touched by both of those sentiments - enough that he blinked back tears. Sören and Anthony got misty too, and then Anthony smiled and said, "So what, we'd be your immortals?"
Sören started giggling. Anthony laughed too. "Oh no," Anthony said.
Sören turned to Nicholas and put up his middle finger. "Prep," he said.
Anthony laughed harder.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS?" Mark yelled.
Sören and Anthony fell on each other in hysterics. Nicholas was utterly confused, and raised an eyebrow.
"There's a very bad Harry Potter fanfiction called My Immortal," Mark explained to Nicholas. "It's... somewhat infamous. Even I've read it. We just quoted from it."
"I see," Nicholas said.
"You'd hate it," Sören said.
"Indeed."
Sören wiped his eyes and looked at Mark. "Speaking of fanfiction... do you ever read any about yourself?"
"I have. I try not to because most takes just make me angry," Mark said.
"What about the porn?"
Mark went beetroot, and so did Anthony.
"There's... porn about us?" Nicholas's jaw dropped.
"Oh, my sweet summer child," Mark said, and took a sip of his champagne.
Nicholas didn't know if he was disturbed or intrigued to know there was Silmarillion erotica. It was obvious Sören and Mark had read some. He shifted in his seat, cheeks burning as his mind once again replayed memories that were probably far filthier than any author of Silmarillion erotica had ever dared write.
Then Anthony cleared his throat. "Back to the serious conversation." He patted Nicholas's knee. "Thank you, again, for... being cool with this."
Nicholas nodded. He sipped his champagne, and as he swirled it in his glass, he spoke honestly. "Truth be told, I feel a bit like I'm standing in your way. You two have been together for so long that it seems somewhat wrong to ask for you to hold off till your forties or fifties to make it legal."
"Oh, elskan. You're not in the way." Sören frowned.
"No, not at all." Anthony sighed. "If polyamorous marriage were legal -"
"It's not," Nicholas said, "and even if it was, I'm still uncomfortable with institutions personally. Even if it would make it easier for you to inherit from me, when..."
Sören's frown deepened.
Nicholas stroked his chin, reflecting on the matter of inheritance - that was important, even though Anthony was a high-paid attorney and Sören was comfortably middle-class as an NHS doctor. There had to be some better way of making them his heirs without simply listing it in a will. Then it came to him. "What if you don't wait until I'm gone to get married? What if I... adopt both of you? I believe adopted siblings can still marry each other under UK law -"
"Yes," Anthony said, nodding. "But... you won't mind?"
"I wouldn't offer if I minded, Anthony."
Sören's eyes widened as he realized what Nicholas was saying. "Then you'd really be our daddy." Sören looked at Anthony, a smirk on his face. "And we'd really be brothers. Well, you know what I mean. In this life."
"Yeah, we would." Anthony went pink, and smiled.
Nicholas smiled too.
"That's so fucking kinky," Sören husked.
"It is, isn't it." Nicholas finished his champagne, proud of himself for coming up with an elegant solution. "But that way you can marry each other sooner, and you can legally inherit from me, and..." His voice lowered, also husking as he stroked Sören's face. "Yes, this will make me your father, and you my sons."
Sören's breath hitched. He kissed Nicholas hard. Nicholas groaned into the kiss, cock stirring to life. Then he watched Sören and Anthony kiss, a most delicious sight, making his cock stiffen even more.
Sören leapt up. "It's time for the next phase of the birthday celebration."
Nicholas thought Sören was going to march them to the bedroom - and hopefully drag Mark with him - but instead, Sören walked over to the stereo system. They waited as Sören selected music, then he dashed back...
...and the sax solo of "Careless Whisper" began to play.
Sören started to swivel his hips, doing a sultry dance to the beginning of the song with such an ultra-serious, smoldering look on his face that it was comical. Sören licked his index finger and thumb and ran them over his eyebrows before wiggling them. He sauntered over to the couch and got closer to Anthony and Nicholas, slow dancing up on them.
Mark turned red, wheezing, shaking. "Sören..."
Nicholas still felt guilty for finding it amusing that the Noldolantë had turned into a Wham song. He tried not to show amusement for Sören's shenanigans now - clearly he was never going to let it go. He put on a stern face and smacked Sören's bottom. "Sören, it's not nice to tease Mark."
Sören turned around to look at Mark, who was laughing. Mark also tried to compose himself and give Sören a glare, but his eyes were still shining.
"Allllll riiiiight," Sören groaned, and stomped back to the stereo. He hit a button and "Careless Whisper" changed to "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go".
"Oh no," Nicholas said.
Sören turned around and wiggled his ass to the opening of the song. Then he turned back to face them and began unbuttoning his shirt, continuing to do a sexy, gyrating, thrusting dance. He skipped over to the couch, took Anthony's hands, and ran them over the part of his chest that was exposed. He guided Anthony's hands to undo the rest of his buttons.
As ridiculous as the song was - and Sören stripteasing to the song - Nicholas's arousal grew at the sight of Sören's bare chest, nipples hard in the evening air, and Sören's playfulness was always a turn-on to him. Even moreso when Sören moved over to Nicholas, taking Nicholas's hands to caress his chest. Nicholas's thumbs rubbed Sören's nipples and Sören bit his lower lip with a little growl.
Sören began undoing the belt of his jeans, then took his jeans down, and danced around the living room in a lacy black thong. He came closer to Mark, but only just so, and before Mark could put his hands on Sören's body, Sören danced a couple of feet backwards and turned around to give Mark a sassy butt wiggle before he danced over to the couch and started giving Anthony a lapdance.
Nicholas groaned as he watched Anthony's hands roam over Sören's body, exploring, caressing. Sören moaned softly at the play of Anthony's fingers over the planes of his stomach, the hard thighs. Sören had an obvious erection in his thong and Anthony's palm rubbed it in slow circles as his hand rubbed Sören's stomach in circles, then up to Sören's chest, pinching a nipple, flicking it, making Sören tilt his head back and moan louder.
As the song wound down, Sören lapdanced for Nicholas as well, grinding against him as Nicholas's hands worshiped every inch of him. Nicholas and Anthony were both hard and Sören reached to tease their cocks through their trousers as Nicholas's fingers brushed everywhere he knew Sören was sensitive, watching the gooseflesh, the little shivers, the way Sören's breath caught.
Nicholas saw a spot of wetness on the black lace outline of Sören's hard cock. He wanted to taste it. Badly.
Then he saw Mark watching the show, pupils blown wide, lips parted, breathing harder. Mark was hard as well.
The song stopped and Anthony used the remote control to turn off the stereo. Sören pulled him up and Anthony kissed Sören hard once he was on his feet. "Now," he growled, seizing Sören's wrist with one hand as he reached for his cane with the other.
As badly as Nicholas wanted to join them, he looked over at Mark, who knew he wasn't invited, and Mark looked away. Nicholas felt a pang of guilt about leaving Mark out here, even though he knew Mark knew the three of them were inevitably going to have sex without him this weekend.
Nicholas looked over at the dishes from the birthday dinner and cake. "You two go on," Nicholas said, "and I'll join you in a bit. I should take care of these dishes so I don't have to do them last-minute before we drive back to London."
"I can do them," Mark said.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "What did I tell you about still needing to do some things? Let me have my pride, Macalaurë." That wasn't the only reason, or even the main reason, but he didn't want to admit that he felt like Mark would feel abandoned if he took off with Anthony and Sören just yet.
"OK, see you in a bit." Anthony patted Nicholas, then he and Sören headed off to the bedroom, giggling and kissing all the way.
When the bedroom door closed, Nicholas and Mark looked at each other.
"As you know, if you had apologized, you likely could have joined them," Nicholas said.
Mark shrugged. "You don't know that for a fact. That operates on the assumption he'd accept my apology and want to pick up where we left off right away, that he wouldn't need time... if he were to forgive me at all. I took that sensitive heart and I destroyed it, Uncle, and you know as well as I do that regardless of what we are to each other, there are consequences to our actions."
"I know that very well," Nicholas said, thinking of the burning ships. "But -"
"No buts." Mark put up a hand. "Weren't you going to do some dishes?"
Nicholas sighed, got up, and went to the sink.
As Nicholas started the dishes, over the running water he could hear Sören and Anthony moaning down the hall. His cock twinged painfully - he was still hard, balls aching for relief - and for a moment he regretted his conscience, not wanting to leave Mark behind.
He heard the sound of the door, and looked over his shoulder at Mark stepping out. Then, through the large window, he saw Mark striding out to the shingle beach. Nicholas sighed - he knew Mark was trying to get away from the sounds of Sören and Anthony making love. The delicious, obscene sounds that made his own cock throb, starting to leak precum in his briefs.
Nicholas finished loading the dishwasher and after he started it, he went not to the bedroom, but to the door, putting on his coat and shoes. He walked outside and saw Mark standing at the shore, hair blowing in the sea breeze. The sky was silver, the sea a choppy steel, with little drops of rain falling. Slowly, Nicholas stepped onto the shingle beach and made his way over to Mark. For a moment they just stood side by side, watching the waves, the endless tide - pushing and pulling endlessly like the four of them, as if they were four parts of a whole that had been ordained before time itself.
At last Nicholas put an arm around Mark. "I know," he said simply.
Mark nodded. He let out a shuddery sigh and Nicholas saw that Mark was crying, a little. Mark took a few breaths and then he replied, "It hurts."
"It doesn't have to hurt this much. It -"
"Please." Mark turned, and Nicholas's own eyes filled with tears at the tears in Mark's eyes, the pain, the haunted look. "It's the wrong time, the wrong place."
"Sören was flirting with you."
"Yeah." Mark chuckled. "I'd got that." He looked back out to sea and laughed again, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
Nicholas couldn't help but smile. He needed to lighten the mood a bit, for both their sake. "I feel I should apologize for him, teasing you about 'Careless Whisper' -"
"No, you shouldn't. Sören... Fëanor... is a brat. He always has been, he always will be. And that's why we love him."
Nicholas's jaw dropped. Mark had essentially admitted to loving Sören.
Their eyes met and Mark nodded. "Yes, I love him," Mark said. "Even if he wasn't Fëanor, it's... it's hard not to love Sören. But he is. He very much is." Mark put his hand on his heart, then he took Nicholas's hand. "And you are still very much yourself." Mark's lips quirked with the hint of a smile. "As you know."
Nicholas chuckled. "As you know."
"Even if I apologize to Anthony, it won't make the issues go away, that made me push him away. He wasn't too needy. I was too needy. I didn't want to force my life on him, making him move around with me from place to place. I didn't want him to feel guilty for the inevitable aging, while I don't, and start losing my mind at losing him. I'm still afraid of getting too attached to the three of you, worried that you'll end up hating, resenting me, when you can't put down roots anywhere for very long, that Sören and Anthony will be burdened by my grief when you -" Mark couldn't finish the sentence.
The tears came again, spilling silently down Nicholas's cheeks. He felt like his heart was being torn up. He wanted so badly to say something, do something to fix this, to put them all back together and love like there was no end... and he was powerless. He had fallen before Morgoth; he had been reunited with the three loves of his life just to fall slowly before Death. Mark was used to being alone, but Nicholas knew one never really truly adjusted to loneliness. And it was cruel to find the three of them again just to have them yanked away, one by one, as before - Nicholas wanted to scream and rage at the heavens for the grief in Maglor's eyes.
Nicholas had no words, no lectures, no platitudes. He could only offer his arms, holding them out now, to let Mark lean on him for a little while, take what comfort he could.
Mark stepped into Nicholas's arms... and then he took Nicholas's face in his hands and kissed him hard. Kissed him like it was their first kiss, their last kiss, full of hunger and desperate, wild, stormy fire. Their tongues met, brushing, lashing, both of them moaning into the kiss, deeper, hotter, like they were trying to devour each other, consume each other's souls. Nicholas's knees trembled and he moved closer against Mark to steady himself, which was a mistake, feeling Mark's hardness through his jeans. They pulled back to catch their breath - breathing each other's breath - and then they were on each other again, lips locked, tongues teasing, hands wandering over each other. Nicholas grabbed a fistful of Mark's hair - like he'd done so many times before in his life as Fingolfin - and started kissing him back fiercely, wanting this so badly it hurt.
And then the kiss was done, and Mark took a step back, blinking as if in shock. "I'm sorry," Mark said softly. "I shouldn't have done that."
That was two kisses now - three total, two of them after Nicholas had sworn to Anthony he wouldn't do anything with Mark until they'd reconciled. Nicholas wanted to smack himself for giving in, even though it was just a kiss, nothing more.
Before Mark could say anything else - before Nicholas could be tempted to do anything else, cross lines that shouldn't be crossed, that they couldn't go back from - Nicholas turned on his heel and strode inside. His balls felt ready to explode. As soon as he got in, he took off his shoes and coat, and marched single-minded to the bedroom, opening the door to watch Sören riding Anthony. Nicholas closed the door behind him and started undressing, his hands shaking as he took off his clothes.
At least he could make this a good birthday for Anthony. Nicholas walked to the bed and climbed on, kissing Anthony as he had kissed Mark, moving Anthony's hand down to his pulsing, slick cock.
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