"I still can't believe you've been here at Cambridge all these months and haven't tried punting yet."
Anthony shrugged. "I would have felt like an idiot going by myself, when everybody seems to punt in pairs or small groups."
For just an instant, Mark took Anthony's hand and squeezed. They couldn't linger too long, and risk being seen, being outed... but just that little reassuring touch meant all the world to Anthony.
"I've gone punting by myself. It's relaxing. I don't really care if people think I look strange or not. It's not like I fit in easy with any crowd, looking like I do." Mark gave a wry smile.
You're more beautiful than everyone. But Anthony didn't say those words aloud - he couldn't, out here. He only said, "Well, neither of us have to punt alone, now."
They took the punt through The Backs along the River Cam. Queen's College, Anthony's own branch of Cambridge, had buildings on both sides of the river, spanned by the Mathematical Bridge, and many times in the fall Anthony had looked out at the river and seen the crowds of punters and felt a wistful longing. There had been fewer punts on the river during the winter. Now it was the end of March and more people were enjoying the spring weather on the river... and he was one of them, sitting in the punt as Mark stood on the till, stroking the pole through the water, the punt gliding slowly.
It was indeed very relaxing. Everything was lush and green from the spring rains; crocuses were blooming in lavender, yellow, and white. The birds had come back, chattering in the trees. As the punt moved closer to St. John's, Anthony saw a pair of swans with four fuzzy, awkward-looking cygnets - it was a bit early in the year for baby swans, and Anthony wondered at it. While Anthony loved the beauty and grace of swans, he didn't think baby swans were ugly at all - quite the opposite, he thought they were adorable. "Awww, look at the floofs," Anthony cooed, and as soon as it was out of his mouth he slapped his hand over his mouth, feeling self-conscious at being like that over baby swans; he was a grown man now.
But Mark just smiled at him indulgently. Then he looked back at the swans. "Psst," he hissed loudly. "Hey. Swans."
Anthony chuckled - he liked it when Mark was ridiculous, too.
"Get away from St. John's," Mark told the swans, like they could understand him. "It's legal for their fellows to eat you."
"It is not." Anthony folded his arms. "You're taking the piss."
"No, I'm absolutely telling the truth. You can look it up later. Fellows of St. John's College are the only people in England who are legally allowed to eat swans, besides the Royal Family."
Anthony narrowed his eyes, then his annoyance turned into horror. "NOOOO! SWANS ARE FRIENDS, NOT FOOD!"
He once again felt like an idiot, being so loud and dramatic about it, but he couldn't help reacting so strongly. He had no objection to eating other kinds of fowl - he loved chicken, and turkey and goose were pretty good too - but the thought of eating a swan...
Mark started cracking up laughing, trying to keep his balance on the till.
"You're making fun of me." Anthony wanted to pitch himself overboard.
"No. I'm not." Mark looked around - the nearest punt of other people was some meters away - and then he said softly, "You're so cute, Anthony."
Anthony's face burned. He didn't think yelling about swans was the sort of thing anyone would find cute, but he supposed it was better than thinking he was being a muppet. Anthony bit his lower lip.
"Here." Mark gestured with the pole. "Do you want to try to steer the punt?"
"OK."
Mark walked over and helped him up, and Anthony's legs shook as he walked down to the till. He had watched Mark work the pole in the river - though there was plenty to see, with the green grass, the spring flowers, the handsome buildings, the bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds reflecting in the river, Anthony's gaze had kept returning to Mark, lovely in his serenity, the breeze in his dark mane - and though Anthony was nervous at first, he quickly got the hang of it, pushing the punt along.
"You're a natural," Mark said. "You haven't done this before? Really?"
Anthony shook his head. "I did watch."
"Still, it's not something everyone can master so quickly by watching."
"I guess the water is in my blood. My uncle was in the Royal Navy." Thinking of Nigel gave Anthony a twinge of sadness again. But there was more than that - dreams he'd had of sailing in something like a gondola, the prow shaped like a swan.
Anthony tried not to think about those dreams, or the feeling of sadness each time he woke from one of them, even though they were beautiful dreams. He returned his attention to the rhythm of the pole, which to Anthony was just as soothing as looking at the water, and the landscape. When Anthony was younger he had found that rhythmic motions like this - rocking in a chair, moving an object back and forth - helped relax him when he felt tense, but it was one of many things his fellow students had mocked him about, and that he'd learned to not demonstrate in public, lest he get shamed again. He almost felt self-conscious about doing this now, with how good it felt... but Mark was safe. Indeed, the way Mark was smiling at him, it felt as if Mark knew his little secret about rhythm and motion and approved, somehow.
They switched again after awhile, and as they began the last lap of their journey, circling back to where they'd started, the first golden glow of sunset appeared. By the time they were done the sky was streaked with gold, and they took their time going back to Mark's dorm at St. Edmund's to watch the setting sun.
They decided on getting fish and chips delivered, and after dinner, Mark said, "I'm going to take a shower."
Anthony would have invited himself, but the shower really wasn't big enough for two people. It was just as well, because after the wonderfully peaceful boat ride, and a meal, and changing into a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, Anthony felt like a cozy kitty ready for a nap, and that was what he did, curling up on Mark's couch and dozing off. He woke up to the sound of the blowdryer, and made a disgruntled noise at it. He closed his eyes again, hoping to get a few extra minutes of rest, but the blowdrying seemed to go on and on and on forever. Of course, Mark had so much hair.
Hair that Anthony loved. When Mark's hair was fully dry, he came out to get his brush, and Anthony sat up and had a moment of boldness. "Can I brush your hair?" He'd been wanting to do that for awhile now.
Mark hesitated, and then he nodded. "All right."
Mark sat on the floor with his back turned to Anthony. Anthony took a deep breath. He'd never done this for anyone else before - he just did his own hair - and it felt strangely intimate, like he was being allowed into an inner sanctum. But it also felt very right - and, oddly enough, like he'd done this before, even though he knew he hadn't. Anthony enjoyed the silky texture of Mark's hair as he held parts of it to run the brush over it, and admired the glossy, rich black color, the iridescence like raven feathers, catching bits of deep blue-green-violet. Anthony had never seen hair like it before, it seemed almost not human in a way.
Such was the ethereal, otherworldly nature of Mark's good looks that for a split second, Anthony could have sworn he saw a pointy ear as he grabbed onto a lock that fell over Mark's ear, to brush it. Anthony gasped, startled, and the lock fell back in place.
"Are you all right?" Mark asked.
"Yeah." Anthony gave a nervous laugh. He grabbed the lock of hair again - Mark's ear was rounded like his, perfectly normal, nothing weird about it. His imagination had gotten the better of him... but he couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't hallucinated, since it had never happened before. But it made no sense to see that, then a normal ear.
"You didn't sound all right for a minute. It was like something spooked you."
Mark felt almost like he was vibrating, which was curious, but then it stopped once Anthony was done with that lock of hair and moved the brush to the back. "Oh, it was nothing," Anthony lied. "Your hair is just so gorgeous, it took my breath away." That wasn't a lie, really.
Mark chuckled. "I'm glad you like my hair. It feels nice, letting you play with it."
"I could do this more often."
"It's been a long time since I've let anyone touch my hair like this. Longer even than being touched sexually."
That reinforced the feeling that they were doing something very intimate. Anthony turned Mark's face and touched his cheek. Mark took Anthony's hand and kissed it.
Anthony continued brushing Mark's hair. "I really like seeing your hair in the wind, like when we were on the punt. I'd like to do that again just to watch your hair blow around."
"Yeah." Mark sighed. "What I really miss is the wind in my hair at sea."
"Oh." Anthony didn't know what to say.
Mark sighed again, and stretched. He took the brush away from Anthony, put it down, and climbed up to sit next to him on the couch. For a moment Mark just sat there in silence, looking troubled, and when Anthony made a concerned noise, Mark said, "Oh. Just." He made a vague hand gesture. "Wanderlust rearing its head again. The urge to just go, off on another adventure, off on another journey to the sea."
Anthony felt a tightness in his chest, his throat dry, eyes misting. Mark hadn't mentioned wanting to bring him along, and maybe it was just a given for Mark and he didn't feel the need to mention it, but Anthony didn't know that, and the thought that Mark wanted to go and leave him behind tore at him.
Mark's eyes met Anthony's. "You OK? Seriously."
Anthony exhaled sharply. He decided to just be honest with his lover. "You talking about wanting to go makes me wonder if you're trying to get away from me, and -"
"Oh, Anthony -" Mark took Anthony's chin in his hand.
Anthony looked away, feeling stung.
"I didn't mean to make you feel abandoned."
That wasn't the same as Mark saying of course you'd come with me, and that bothered Anthony. But then Mark's arms were around him, hugging him tight, rocking him, and Anthony couldn't stay upset with him for long.
"I need you to stay with me," Anthony blurted out, ready to cry, trying to hold back, not wanting to fall apart.
"I'm right here."
"No. You know what I mean. I... don't want you to just take off and leave me behind. I love you."
There was a long, long pause, and Anthony felt like he'd put his foot in it, like Mark was going to think he was too hung up, too needy. But Anthony felt that hysteria rising - he couldn't help how he felt, and how he felt was that Mark leaving would take a piece of his soul along with it.
Mark pet Anthony's hair and kissed his brow. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset -"
There it was again, once again not the same as reassuring him by saying that urge to go elsewhere included bringing him. Anthony felt like just bolting out of the dorm, but then Mark was holding him again, stroking his hair, rubbing his back, raining soft little kisses over his face. "There's still two months left in the school year. I don't want to have made it most of the way through just to drop out."
And that wasn't a reassurance either, but it was as close as Anthony was going to get to one. He didn't want to be angry. He felt like he was drowning in his emotions, and he needed to grasp for something lighter, before they flooded and drowned them both, because then he probably would lose Mark for good, overwhelmed by the intensity. Anthony said the first thing that came to him, not really thinking. "You better not. You keep talking about leaving and I'll have to tie you up."
"Is that so." Mark pulled back a little, his lips quirked, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Promises, promises."
It took Anthony a moment, and then it registered with him. He'd heard the song "Rope Burn" by Janet Jackson and learned that some people liked to be tied up during sex, and even though Anthony hadn't meant it like that, it was clear Mark was taking it as such, and... now the idea intrigued Anthony, his cock stirring in his pajama pants.
It intrigued Anthony enough that he found himself getting up and rummaging around in Mark's dorm.
"What are you looking for?" Mark asked.
Anthony gave him a "you already know" look. He folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. "Something to tie you up with."
Mark chuckled and got up. He opened his closet and took out two cashmere scarves that were hanging up with his trenchcoat and leather jacket, one scarf was black, one was white. As he walked over he twirled them around before he handed them to Anthony, then he took off his boxer-briefs, flopped on the bed naked, and propped himself up on one elbow, giving Anthony a wicked grin.
Anthony pulled off his T-shirt and pajama pants, and climbed over Mark. He pulled Mark into a deep, hungry kiss, then he grabbed one of Mark's arms and took the first scarf and wrapped it around Mark's wrist, before tying it in a secure, tight knot through the slats in the headboard of Mark's bed. He did the same with Mark's other wrist. Then he had Mark move his arms and test the knots, to make sure he couldn't easily slip out, and that they weren't too painfully tight.
Mark looked up at Anthony with heat in his eyes. Mark's cock was fully hard, and already dripping precum - he liked this. "So... I am completely helpless and at your disposal. What are you going to do with me?"
Anthony grinned and leaned in to claim another kiss. "Whatever I want."
Never in a million years would Anthony had thought he'd do this with someone - and here he was, his own cock aching, throbbing, mad with lust at the sight of Mark bound, completely submissive, his to use as he pleased. But Anthony wanted to give Mark pleasure, it wasn't wholly selfish. He wanted to express all of those intense, overwhelming feelings with his body, let Mark feel how much he was loved, how much Anthony needed him to stay, or at least, take him along.
They kissed again and again, hard cocks rubbing together, and then Anthony started to kiss and lick Mark's neck, his hands sliding over Mark's body, making Mark tremble to his touch. With Mark bound and helpless, Anthony teased him for a long time, kissing, licking, nibbling all over, lavishing love on his nipples, stomach, and thighs, fingers walking the planes of Mark's body, brushing over the chiseled muscles, as if Anthony's hands were committing Mark's body to memory. Mark moaned and sighed, arching to him, breath ragged, his lovely face in rapture. Anthony licked up from Mark's thigh over his stomach to a nipple, lapping at one swollen peak,, suckling harder than before, and Mark cried out. Anthony put his hand over Mark's mouth. "We have to be quiet, remember?" Anthony smiled and turned his head to the other nipple. "Don't make me gag you, too," he threatened before his tongue flicked over the nipple. Mark moaned against Anthony's palm.
Anthony stuck his fingers in Mark's mouth, both an attempt to keep Mark's voice down and because he really, really liked watching Mark suck his fingers, as his tongue teased the nipple, lips tugging on it, going back and forth between them, his other hand running down Mark's stomach, over a thigh, before playing with Mark's cock, stroking it slowly.
At last Anthony kissed his way back down Mark's chest and stomach, and took a few long, slow, deliberate licks at Mark's cock, before taking it in his mouth. His eyes watched Mark's every reaction as he sucked slowly, one hand cupping and rubbing Mark's balls, the other rubbing Mark's stomach in lazy circles, wandering up for his thumb to pluck and pinch a nipple. Mark's breath came out in shaking gasps, and Anthony's cock got harder and harder, spilling precum over Mark's calf, savoring every moment of this.
Anthony continued sucking Mark slowly, keeping him hovering on the edge of release, until Mark made a frustrated little sob. "Please, Anthony," he whispered. "Give me your cock. Please."
Anthony wanted to fuck him, but he also wanted to have some more fun. He sucked Mark even more slowly, and Mark whined.
"Shhhhh." Anthony nibbled Mark's thigh. "I will gag you." He didn't really want to, because he liked the sight of Mark's mouth and liked those little noises.
"Please. Anthony. I want your cock, I need your cock, please, please..." Mark looked feverish, wild, feral, desperate.
Anthony reveled in the power trip. He came up to kiss Mark, and then he settled between Mark's legs, got the lube, and poured it over his cock, stroked himself to work it in, but instead of guiding his cock to Mark's opening he continued to stroke himself, teasing them both. Mark's eyes were hungry, and Anthony loved it. Anthony bit his lower lip and gave a little growl, thumb rubbing his frenulum as he worked his cock, really getting himself on edge. "Is this what you meant? See, I am giving you my cock. A show of my cock -"
"Goddammit, you fucking lawyer..."
Anthony laughed, delighted by that response. "Not yet, but thanks for the vote of confidence." He continued to pleasure himself. The idea of jerking off in front of someone would have been embarrassing months ago, but now he loved performing for Mark, seeing how much Mark lusted for him. The feeling was very, very mutual - Anthony's eyes raked Mark's body, the burning silver eyes, the almost-angry look on Mark's face, thick eyebrows drawn... the way Mark's hair was fanned out on the pillows... lingering at the hard cock, so engorged veins were showing, flushed a deep pink, completely slick with precum, glistening with it.
Anthony got closer. "I should just shoot off all over you..."
"Dammit, Anthony, fuck me."
Anthony continued to stroke himself, working his wrist harder, but holding back his release, edging himself. Mark made an urgent little howl, and hissed, "Fuck me!"
Anthony gave in, laughing again as he came down to kiss Mark. Then he rose back up, put Mark's legs on his shoulders, and gave Mark exactly what he asked for - slamming away as hard as he could, no mercy. Mark loved it, panting, quivering, gasping out, "yes, more, yes, just like that, more, please, more," and Anthony growled, feeling a rush, feeling deep satisfaction even though he hadn't come yet. He liked being in charge. He liked making this big, tall, older man lose control like this.
He liked the feeling that Mark was his. This wasn't just a fucking, this was a taking, a claiming.
He reached and gripped Mark's cock, holding it tight, jerking it hard and fast. Mark was trying valiantly not to cry out. Mark's body was starting to sweat from the pull of the restraints and the furious pounding of Anthony inside him; Anthony was working up a sweat too. Anthony's entire body felt like it was on fire, like he was being immolated in passion, in need, each thrust hammering that message: don't leave me. You belong to me now.
Their eyes met and Mark's mouth opened, eyes wide. Anthony knew it was about to happen. Mark threw back his head and gave a shuddery sigh as his cock spurted over Anthony's hand, over his chest and stomach. Anthony was so turned on by the sight of Mark coming, and the pleasure of Mark's contractions gripping, squeezing his cock, that three thrusts later Anthony came too, making a strangled noise through his teeth, trying not to scream.
Anthony rested there for a moment as the ecstasy pulsed through him, making him feel weightless, like he was gliding down a river of light, and once he pulled out he untied Mark's wrists. Mark flexed his wrists and hands and wrapped his arms around Anthony, drawing him close, into a deep kiss.
"I love you," Anthony said, holding back tears.
Mark didn't say it back. He said something else instead.
Once I pass'd through a populous city imprinting my brain for future
use with its shows, architecture, customs, traditions,
Yet now of all that city I remember only a man I casually met
there who detain'd me for love of me,
Day by day and night by night we were together--all else has long
been forgotten by me,
I remember I say only that man who passionately clung to me,
Again we wander, we love, we separate again,
Again he holds me by the hand, I must not go,
I see him close beside me with silent lips sad and tremulous.
Even though Anthony had read Leaves Of Grass more than once since his birthday, it still took a moment. "Whitman." Anthony could barely remember his own name, let alone the name of the poet - he was surprised Mark could recite that from memory after such a powerful orgasm. Mark didn't just have inhuman beauty, but sometimes it was like his mind was superhuman, or something else entirely.
Mark touched Anthony's cheek, stroked his hair, looking into his eyes. "Anthony, do you have plans for spring break?"
It was just around the corner - Easter was happening on April fourth, a week away - and they hadn't talked about it yet.
"No," Anthony said honestly. "I was thinking about maybe going to London to see my mum but that's not terribly exciting and it's still..." He frowned. "Sad, after my uncle's death. This would be our first Easter without him -"
Mark put a finger to Anthony's lips. "I understand." He stroked Anthony's cheek again. "Well, I have an idea. I have a vacation home in Nice. Would you like to come with me for spring break?"
"Oh!" Anthony felt a frisson of excitement. And relief - this wasn't just a holiday in and of itself, but a reassurance that Mark wanted to include him in his travels. "I'd like that a lot."
"Good." Mark kissed him hard, then gently rolled Anthony onto his back. After a few more kisses, tongues licking together between kisses, they were both hard again, and groaned as their cocks bumped up together and they began to rub hard cock to hard cock. Mark started kissing and licking Anthony's sensitive neck. "And since we'll be in my private vacation home, not a hotel... we can be as loud as we want."
Anthony couldn't help a moan. Mark kissed him, then kissed down his throat, down to the sweet hollow of his neck and shoulder. Their eyes met and Mark rasped, "I can't wait to go there and spend hours every day in bed with you... making such passionate love together..." Mark kissed his shoulder again. Anthony gasped, nails digging in Mark's back.
Mark rose and grabbed the lube, then settled back down, kissing Anthony as he readied them both. "And now for a taste of what it'll be like." He kissed Anthony deeply as he pushed inside.
chapter 9 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index