It was now the last day of February, early evening. Sören was zoning out on the couch watching TV while Anthony worked on Duolingo lessons, the three cats cuddling on the couch with them. Mark was making dinner in the kitchen...
...and Sören kept checking the clock, waiting for Nicholas to get back from his walk. Nicholas had wanted to take a walk to Greenwich Park to watch the sunset. Sören would have gone with him, but he was too tired after a long surgery. Sören was wishing he'd gone now, because it had been less than two weeks since Nicholas had recovered from his illness - what Sören now knew wasn't the flu, but a magical attack sustained at Curious Goods - and Sören still had concerns about Nicholas overexerting himself.
There was the sound of trumpets, signaling Anthony had successfully completed another lesson, and Anthony looked up from his laptop and over at Sören - then at the clock, and back at Sören. He raised an eyebrow.
"As you know," Anthony teased, "you're being a mother hen."
"Jæja." Sören sighed, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Anthony put an arm around him and gently kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "Sweetheart, I know you're worried. I can't blame you for that, Nicholas gave us all a good scare a couple of weeks ago. But I also feel like... it's like watching my mum after I was in the accident. I think Nicholas knows his limits, and he does need to start doing things again."
"You're right, but -"
Anthony put a finger to Sören's lips. "No buts."
"But."
Anthony rolled his eyes then he gave a little smirk and tousled Sören's curls. "All right. But what."
"I worry that he is overdoing it to try to, I don't know, compensate for the fact that he could have died. It looked pretty scary just before we... you know." Sören still couldn't believe what they'd done - the way the Silmarils responded to Maglor's Song of Power and the force of their will. It had been a beautiful experience... and terrifying. Sören got chills thinking about it.
"And yet, he did recover. What we did worked. And..." Anthony took a deep breath. "I haven't wanted to say this, because, to quote a certain doctor I know, it sounds daft -"
"Jaeja."
"But... I've been noticing some things. Nicholas goes up and down the stairs faster and easier than he did before, like his arthritis isn't bothering him as much, or at all. He bends and stretches more easily. I don't hear his joints pop the way they did. And he seems to have more energy - like wanting to go for a walk today. He has more energy than I do." Anthony chuckled, then he got serious again. "Past a certain point, him overcompensating for his brush with death doesn't make sense, because it wouldn't explain... this."
Sören's brow furrowed. He started to get gooseflesh, his hair standing on end. The implications of that - what it could mean, what they had done - were even scarier than just healing him from the malevolent energy trying to kill him. He opened his mouth and before he could speak, the door opened and after pausing in the foyer to remove his coat and shoes, Nicholas stepped into the greatroom.
It was a clear, cool night, and Nicholas was wet. He smelled of sweat - arousing rather than offensive to Sören, but also alarming, like he had in fact overexerted himself. Nicholas's face was pink, and he was breathing a little harder, more signs of exertion -
- and he was smiling, eyes shining, crinkled at the corners.
Sören put his hands on his hips.
"I went for a bit of a run," Nicholas explained.
Sören's brow furrowed. "A... run."
"Yes, a run." Nicholas gave a small nod.
"You... don't run." Sören cocked his head to one side. He didn't want to be insensitive, but the doctor in him was all diagnostic concern. "You said you used to when you were younger, but when you got older your arthritis stopped you."
Nicholas said nothing, but started down the hall. Sören got up and stomped after him, wanting to give him a lecture about overdoing it, how his brush with death didn't mean he had to grab life by the horns this hard... and he remembered what Anthony said about noticing Nicholas was moving more easily, looking like he felt more energetic. Sören's eyes stung with tears, frightened and confused, head spinning.
Nicholas paused outside the bathroom, hearing Sören follow behind him. "I'm going to take a shower, freshen up for dinner." His eyes twinkled merrily as he gave Sören a saucy grin over his shoulder. "If you care to join me, consider yourself welcome."
Which was the other thing - Nicholas had been randy since recovering from the attack. Nicholas always had a healthy libido, of course, but he'd went from being able to do one or two rounds of lovemaking before needing a full night's rest, to being able to keep up with Sören, matching him round for round, fucking him with the power and vigor of a man years younger.
Sören's cock leapt at the thought of Nicholas in the shower, and the ways they could tease and please each other in the shower, like an appetizer before the main course of later lovemaking. But as Sören stripped down in the bathroom, he tempered his desire with concern. And when he joined Nicholas in the shower, Nicholas saw the stern look on Sören's face, the tense body language.
Nicholas put his hands on Sören's shoulders. "What is it, dearest?"
Sören made a sweeping gesture at him. "You. Just... you."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
Sören took a deep breath and tried to assemble his thoughts, heart racing. "I know you almost died, I get it that you want to live life to the fullest, but running? If evil magic didn't kill you, overexertion just might." Sören pursed his lips.
Nicholas chuckled. When Sören glared, he quickly sobered. "Darling, I know this may be hard to believe, but after... whatever it was you did... well..." Nicholas looked down, then up, and into Sören's eyes. "I feel the best I have in years. I feel young again. I don't know how to explain it, but my arthritis pain is gone. I don't feel as tired. I -"
Sören broke down sobbing. He wanted to believe Nicholas - he wanted to believe this was real and not some sort of placebo affect with recovery from a serious illness giving him a new lease on life - and he was also terrified of what it did mean if it was true. The implications... the new depths of strangeness of their reality.
"Oh, love." Nicholas reached out and pulled Sören against him, rubbing his back, rocking him. Nicholas held Sören for a long time under the water, the two of them clinging together, rocking. Sören listened to the strong beat of Nicholas's heart, felt Nicholas's breath against his skin, felt the strength in those arms holding him so tightly... and he dared not hope. He dared not wonder.
When Sören's tears subsided, they lathered each other. But there was too much residual anxiety for Sören to get into a sensual mood, as tempting as Nicholas's naked body was. And Nicholas seemed to know it - once the shower was done and they had toweled off, Nicholas once again pulled Sören close to him, rubbing his nose in the damp curls, holding Sören tight. "You're a good boy, being concerned for Daddy," Nicholas whispered, and kissed the top of Sören's head. He cupped Sören's chin in his hand and stroked the beard with his thumb, then Sören's full lips. "Such a good boy, trying to take care of your Daddy. But Daddy's better now. Daddy would be honest with you if that weren't the case."
"I hope so." Sören frowned. "You don't have anything to prove to me, Nick. You knew when we got together I love you old age and all, arthritis and all." Sören took Nicholas's hand and kissed it. "You don't have to pretend to be someone younger -"
"You don't see me wearing jeans or listening to Justin Bieber and that Dragon fellow, do you?"
It took Sören a moment and then he facepalmed and shook with laughter. "You mean Drake."
"The one who sings, what's it called, 'Hotline Bling.'"
"Yes." Sören grinned, laughing harder. "Dragon. His name is Drake. Or Drizzy, if you prefer."
Nicholas glared, and Sören elbowed him. As Nicholas led the way out of the bathroom, Sören squeezed Nicholas's ass through the towel and said, "You know, you'd look good in jeans."
"As you know, I shan't wear jeans."
"You should reconsider that stance. You've got a great ass."
Nicholas shook his head and rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink and he couldn't restrain a smile as they entered the master bedroom.
As they got changed, Mark arrived at the bedroom door and gently cleared his throat, trying not to ogle the half-naked men. Sören gave a sassy butt wiggle. "Dinner's ready," Mark announced.
What was supposed to be a relaxing meal felt tense - Anthony knew Sören's concerns, and it seemed Mark did as well. Both of them kept glancing at Nicholas, then each other, as if they had some sort of discussion while Sören and Nicholas were showering and were waiting until after dinner to bring up whatever it was they were talking about. Sören started to feel more and more uneasy, wondering what it was... wondering what would change.
Sure enough, over after-dinner drinks, Mark finally went there. "Anthony and I had a talk about, well, you, Uncle, and how you've been doing since we healed you from whatever it was that was trying to kill you."
Nicholas waited, keeping his expression neutral.
"I told him I notice you've been moving better, like you're not in chronic pain," Anthony said. He leaned back in his seat. "And then you went for a run tonight, for the first time in how long?"
"Not since my forties," Nicholas said.
Anthony and Mark looked at each other. Mark turned back to Nicholas and Sören. "We have a theory that whatever we did to free you from the curse... might have been a little too effective. The powers of Flame and Song, combined."
"A little too effective how?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow.
"We don't know, but we want to test something," Anthony said.
"Test... what."
Mark got up and started clearing the table. He went to the kitchen, but instead of starting the dishes right away, Sören heard the sound of movement - drawers open, silverware and kitchen tools clinking and rattling as Mark searched for something - and when Mark came back, he had the sharpest kitchen knife in hand.
"What in the world." Nicholas recoiled at the sight of the knife.
"I won't hurt you... much. And not without your consent." At Nicholas's look of alarm, Mark went on, "As you know - well, if you remember any of this... Elves are hard to injure, hard to kill. We can be permanently injured, permanently maimed -" Mark raised his burned hand. "And my brother Maitimo is proof of that. And we can be killed - the three of you are proof of that. But it takes much more effort, much more power and strength, as we heal quickly from wounds that, for a human, would require stitches and at least a week or two of healing time."
"So you're..." Nicholas blinked. "Going to do what. Wound me?"
Mark nodded. "Our theory is that whatever we did with the Silmarils and my song not only freed you from the curse put on you at the antique shop, but it... turned you into an Elf, only without the transfiguration, so no pointy ears, you look the same, but -"
"But it stopped or severely slowed down your aging process, and reversed certain human illnesses Elves don't get, like rheumatoid arthritis, which is an autoimmune condition," Anthony finished.
Sören's jaw dropped. His ears started ringing. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was a doctor. It was one thing for them to do what they had done two weeks ago with the Silmarils and the Song of Power, and for Nicholas to recover. It was another thing to arrest his aging process and make his constitution hardier, more able to withstand things that would severely hurt and kill humans. He felt like everything happening right now was going against all of his training, everything he knew to be true. And yet, he couldn't deny what was happening right in front of him.
Mark held the knife out to Sören. "You know how to make a surgical incision."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Sören said. "Do you know how unethical this is?"
"It's not like anyone at your job is going to know," Mark said. "It would be more unethical for you to not investigate what's happening, don't you think?"
Sören grumbled, got up, went to the bathroom to wash his hands, and came back with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He led Nicholas, Mark, and Anthony to the kitchen counter. He sterilized the counter, then he sterilized the knife, and Nicholas's arm. While his specialty was spines and brains, he had practiced on many cadavers during med school and knew how to cut other parts, too. The arm was less problematic than trying to slice open Nicholas's back. He hoped he wasn't going to have to do stitches. Even though that meant...
Sören pushed that thought out of his mind - what it would mean if Nicholas was like an Elf now, no longer aging, no longer susceptible to the same mortality of humans. One thing at a time, he told himself, positioning the knife. "I'm sorry," he said. "This is going to hurt, and it's not like we have anaesthesia."
"Do it," Nicholas said.
Sören took a deep breath and cut. He watched a river of red pour down both sides of Nicholas's arm, dripping onto the counter. Drip-drip-drip-drip. Anthony watched with wide eyes and bated breath; Mark had an arm around Anthony, his jaw set, a look of determination in his eyes.
Nicholas held his arm still even as he was breathing faster and harder from the stinging pain of the deep gash. Blood continued to flow and flow, seemingly endless. It was starting to look like Mark and Anthony's theory was wrong and Nicholas would need pressure - possibly a tourniquet - and stitches. Sören didn't want to wait too long to make that call, with how much blood was pumping out, but kept himself in check just a little longer, barely breathing, heart pounding, head spinning, watching the blood puddle expand in size on the counter, creeping closer and closer to the edge.
Then, before Sören's eyes, the wound began to stop bleeding... and started to close on its own, no stitches. Sören gasped and dropped the knife. He took a couple of steps backward, shaking - Mark waved his hand and the knife rose from the floor just in time.
Nicholas raised his hand and the knife flew over to it.
Sören fell over, taking a spill on the hard kitchen floor.
The next few minutes passed in a blur, with Sören not really fully aware of what was happening, feeling like he was floating outside his body. When he came to he was sitting on Mark's lap, Mark cradling him and petting him, Nicholas sitting on one side of Mark, Anthony on the other. Sören fell apart, sobbing, babbling, screaming. There were too many conflicting emotions, too many questions.
"Deep breaths," Mark said, his voice like silk. He rubbed Sören's scalp. Nicholas rubbed Sören's back and Anthony rubbed Sören's stomach. "It's OK."
"No it's not." Sören wept again, heaving so hard it hurt.
Nicholas took Sören's hand in his. "One thing at a time, my sweet. What is foremost on your mind?"
Sören tried to pull himself together. Treat this like you're diagnosing. It was too personal for that, of course, but he needed to try. He took deep breaths with Mark - it felt almost like Mark was breathing for him, like a golden light was piercing the dark storm clouds inside him, clearing the way for his thoughts. "So... we kind of made you immortal."
"I suppose so." Nicholas chuckled.
"I'm sorry." Sören touched Nicholas's face. "We forced it on you, you didn't consent -"
"And the alternative was to let me just die?" Nicholas shook his head. "I don't blame you for doing what you did to save my life, even if it worked a little too well."
"Do you not understand how this is going to complicate your life?" Sören pointed at Mark. "You're going to have to live like him now. Moving around whether you like it or not because you don't age. Outliving everyone you build new connections with."
"At least..." Nicholas turned to Mark. "Macalaurë won't be alone now." His eyes softened.
Mark leaned in and gave Nicholas a kiss. A sweet, gentle little kiss quickly turned sensual, their lips parting, tongues playing. Sören moaned as he watched them kiss, his cock stiffening and throbbing. Anthony's breath hitched and they looked at each other; Sören's cock and hole both twitched at the heat in Anthony's eyes.
Before Anthony could kiss him, Nicholas tugged Sören by the curls and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss. Sören whimpered into the kiss, kissing Nicholas back with all of the passionate fire of his being, wanting Nicholas to feel how loved he was, wanted - that despite Sören's guilt about accidentally making him immortal, he was glad Nicholas was alive, and glad Nicholas was free of pain, glad that Mark would still have companionship in fifty, a hundred years.
Mark and Anthony were kissing now, and Sören whimpered again, balls aching at the erotic sight of their mouths together, hands on each other. Then Mark kissed Sören, loving and tender, and Anthony kissed Sören, fierce and hungry.
Sören got up, took Anthony's hands, and pulled him to his feet. Nicholas rose and came over to Anthony, taking Anthony in his arms and kissing him with such abandon that Sören felt like he was going to come just from watching them kiss.
There was more that needed to be discussed about Nicholas's newfound immortality and what this meant for Nicholas - for all of them - and what to do about the power of the Silmarils, but right here and right now, all that mattered was their love for each other, the way they wanted each other, needed each other. Nicholas had almost been stolen from them and they needed to celebrate his triumph.
Sören ached to express his love with his body. Full brother in heart, he spoke into Nicholas's mind, and then, You are my heart.
Nicholas was kissing Sören again. Kissing, kissing, kissing, walking them to the bedroom, not able to stop kissing, not able to stop touching, the two of them needing to touch every part of each other, feel, have and hold.
Once in the master bedroom, the four undressed, and then Sören, Anthony, and Mark fell on Nicholas like a pack of hungry wolves, pushing him down, taking turns claiming his mouth as the other two kissed and licked and nipped at his neck and shoulders, running their hands over Nicholas's naked body, enjoying the firm, trim musculature, the silvery hair, the raw maleness of him. Sören's hand strayed to Nicholas's cock, already hard, rubbing up and down the shaft slowly.
Mark kissed Nicholas's mouth, tongues licking between kisses, as Sören lapped and suckled Nicholas's nipples into hard, plump peaks, and Anthony sucked Nicholas's cock. Then Anthony came up to let Nicholas taste himself, kissing deeply, as Mark sipped at Nicholas's nipples and Sören slurped away at Nicholas's cock. Sören and Nicholas kissed, with Sören nibbling on Nicholas's neck and shoulder every now and again, as Anthony sucked Nicholas's nipples hard, pulling on them with his lips, biting them, while Mark licked and sucked Nicholas's cock and balls. All the while Nicholas moaned, panting, arched to them, shivering. When Nicholas got closer, Mark reached up to grab a fistful of Sören's curls and dragged him down to finish Nicholas off, while Mark and Anthony took turns kissing Nicholas, playing with his nipples. Nicholas grabbed Sören's head and gently fucked his mouth and Sören growled around the cock in his mouth, stroking himself furiously as he rubbed Nicholas's balls with the other hand, feeling them tighten, feeling Nicholas's cock pulse in his mouth. At last Nicholas cried out and his cock twitched, shooting cum, flooding Sören's mouth, Sören almost choking, so much of it. With his mouth full of Nicholas's seed, Sören came with a cry of his own, spilling over his hand and shooting on Nicholas's leg.
Sören kissed Mark, then Anthony, sharing the cum with them. Then Sören kissed Nicholas deeply, hand rubbing Nicholas's chest and stomach, finally resting on Nicholas's heart as the thundering slowed. Nicholas covered Sören's hand with his and they rubbed noses, sharing a tender kiss before Mark and Anthony came in for more kisses, kissing Nicholas over and over, then each other, then Sören.
The four of them curled up together - Mark and Anthony hadn't come yet and were both still hard and slick with precum, and after cuddling and petting for a few minutes Sören's cock rose again, aroused by the sight of them. Mark and Anthony made out, feverishly kissing while they caressed each other's bodies, as Sören sucked both their cocks, and Nicholas sucked Sören's cock and tongued his opening. When Nicholas licked and kissed Sören's balls, Nicholas started working his fingers in and out of Sören. "Do you want more, sweetheart?"
"Mmmhmm." Sören pulled the two cocks out of his mouth. "Please Daddy, fuck me. I need Daddy's cock."
"Daddy needs you too, love." Nicholas kissed one of Sören's butt cheeks before smacking it, making Sören giggle.
Nicholas and Anthony both lay on their backs, side by side. Sören poured lube over Nicholas's cock before handing the bottle to Mark. Sören worked the lube over Nicholas's cock while Mark readied Anthony's cock. Sören licked his lips at the sight of them - and Mark too, standing at attention. Wanting them all. Wanting to do everything. But right here and right now, he wanted to give himself to Nicholas... the Fëanor part of him giving himself to Fingolfin.
Sören straddled Nicholas's hips and Nicholas's cock slid inside, inch by inch. When Nicholas was all the way in, Sören put his hands on Nicholas's heart. "I love you," Sören husked, a lump in his throat.
Nicholas took Sören's hands and kissed them, squeezed them. "Oiala ar illumë melmenya," he said, repeating the words Sören had spoken during the healing two weeks ago - words that had come through Sören, the truth of his soul.
Sören began to ride Nicholas's cock, and Mark began to ride Anthony's cock. As Sören rose up, Mark pushed down. As Mark pulled up, Sören sank down. Nicholas and Anthony tilted their heads and kissed, driving Sören mad with lust. Soon Sören and Mark were kissing too, playing with each other's cocks as they bounced away, harder and harder.
Nicholas grabbed Sören's hips and slammed into him, balls smacking Sören's ass, matching his fierce rhythm with frenzy of his own. Sören cried out and pinched Nicholas's nipples, thumbs rubbing before he pinched again. Mark scooped Sören's precum on his fingers and stuck them in Anthony's mouth. Anthony made an urgent noise with his lips wrapped around Mark's fingers, tasting Sören, and bucked into Mark. Anthony and Nicholas kissed again, then Mark and Sören were kissing, stroking each other. As Sören got closer, Nicholas's hand took over, while both Sören's and Anthony's hands worked on Mark's cock. The bed slammed against the wall, the sound of bodies smacking together almost as loud as grunts and growls and broken cries.
Sören's balls were almost painfully tight, his cock throbbing as Nicholas's cock rubbed that sweet spot inside him over and over, so deliciously. He needed to come, but he ached to make this last, wanting to stay lost in this space of worshiping Nicholas with his body, giving himself completely, wanting to feast his eyes on Nicholas's sweat-glistening sculpted, furry body, wanting the intimacy of being joined as one flesh, one rhythm, one passion, one need. But at last the need for release won out, the need to come undone together, to share ecstasy. Sören climaxed, spurting over Nicholas's chest, which in turn set Mark off as he watched, crying out. Anthony and Nicholas came together, and Sören moaned as he felt Nicholas's seed rush deep inside him, Nicholas's cock pulsing in time with Sören's contractions.
Breathless, sweaty, Sören collapsed onto Nicholas's chest. Nicholas held him close and rained kisses over his face, rocking him. Anthony reached for one of Sören's hands and squeezed, and Mark stroked Sören's curls. Sören sighed deeply, toes curling, feeling content as could be with his three loves surrounding him... safe in Nicholas's arms. Arms that would live, if not forever, for a long time yet.
Sören hoped it would be worth it. That the world would not become such a bleak, hostile, brutal place that Nicholas would resent what had been done. But looking into those warm dark chocolate eyes, shining with love, crinkled at the corners, he felt Nicholas's gratitude. Nicholas kissed Sören's brow, and then their lips met, tongues dancing in a hard, powerful kiss that made Sören's body start up again, wanting. Nicholas had slipped out of Sören and now he guided Sören's hand to his cock, which was also hard once more. Sören grinned with delight.
I could spend an eternity making love to you and it would never be enough, Nicholas spoke into Sören's mind.
Sören was deeply touched by that - but also needed to flirt, to play, to not be overwhelmed by emotion. So he smirked and kissed Nicholas back. Promises, promises.
Nicholas growled and bit Sören's neck.
As arousing as that bite was, making Sören's cock and hole both twitch, craving more, Nicholas biting his neck reminded Sören of something and Sören exploded with laughter.
"What," Nicholas said.
"Remember how I was making jokes about you being Daddy Dracula, on Valentine's Day, before shit happened?" Sören laughed so hard he snorted. "Well..." He gestured to Nicholas. "You're not undead, and it wasn't by blood, but, ah, you were turned."
Nicholas shook his head and facepalmed, but his sides heaved with silent laughter.
"I guess we can call him Daddy Drac now," Anthony teased.
"No no." Sören grinned, thinking of ribbing Nicholas earlier. "Daddy Drake."
Anthony grinned back. "Drizzy Drake?"
Nicholas smacked Sören's bottom. "Could you not encourage him," Nicholas said, glaring at Anthony, even though his eyes were sparkling and crinkled at the corners.
"Like he needs encouragement," Anthony said, and pulled Sören over into a kiss.
Nicholas swatted Sören's bottom again. Sören shook his ass.
chapter 18 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index