It was Thursday night, and Sören was pacing back and forth by the living room window, looking out for Anthony's grey Prius. It wasn't that Anthony was late - his shifts at the psych hospital in Springfield, Massachusetts were from seven AM to seven PM, and it took about twenty to thirty minutes to get to Bridgeford depending on traffic, and Anthony hadn't texted to say he was stopping at the store or anything else that would delay his arrival. Nor did Sören have one of those feelings of impending doom that often came on before a disaster.
But this was no ordinary Thursday. Today was the ten-year anniversary of Anthony's transition to male... and six years for Sören. To celebrate their mutual "transiversary" Sören had spent the afternoon making a vanilla cake with pink, blue and white layers like the Trans Pride flag, and had decorated the cake with a frosted Blåhaj, the IKEA plush shark that had become a symbol of the trans community. Anthony's eighteen-year-old offspring Rae, who was non-binary, had decided to make a special meal and arroz con pollo was going in the slow cooker. Anthony hadn't mentioned the anniversary this week, so both Sören and Rae were sure Anthony would be surprised, and Sören was giddy with anticipation.
Rae was more mellow about it - they were still in their room, watching TV or playing a video game from the sound of it - but two of the three cats, Solly and Shmuel, and Anthony's Beagle-Labrador mix Maimonides now also joined Sören by the window, waiting.
Of course, waiting for Anthony's reaction to the cake wasn't Sören's only reason for feeling giddy about his arrival.
Sören and Anthony had been best friends for five years, meeting via a chat room for FTM guys - Anthony had become something of a mentor to Sören, being both older and further along in his transition. Three years ago, when Sören had exhausted his options for dating in his home country of Iceland, which had a small population, and Sören's abusive aunt and uncle - who'd raised him - were starting to stalk and intimidate him post-transition, Anthony had offered to let Sören live with him. Anthony himself had moved to the States from the UK following a messy divorce from his ex-husband Steve, who was already a nasty piece of work, and Anthony's transition just made him nastier. So besides the common ground of both being trans and having faced bullying for it, Anthony also understood the immigrant experience and it seemed like ideal circumstances for Sören having a safe place to start his life again.
Sören already had a bit of a crush on Anthony, and living with him fanned the flames to love. But just as Sören finally got the courage to tell Anthony how he felt, Rae turned sixteen and could choose which parent they wanted to live with - the UK courts had awarded custody to Steve; Anthony was positive that was discrimination - and Sören decided to hold back on trying to test the waters, since it seemed Anthony had enough on his plate between his stressful job as a psychiatric mental health nurse and reconnecting with his kid, especially when Rae came out as non-binary now that they weren't stifled by Steve's transphobia.
The feelings didn't go away just because Sören put them on hold - if anything, it had gotten stronger, as Anthony's compassion for his patients and enthusiastic support of his non-binary kid made Sören love him even more. But even as Rae was eighteen now and taking steps towards independence with a part-time job and looking at community college in the fall, Sören was still hesitant to rock the boat. For one thing, he was only nine and a half years older than Rae, at twenty-seven, and Anthony was forty-four. Sören didn't mind their age difference - he liked older men, as a rule - but he worried Anthony would think he was too young, those worries amplified whenever Anthony called him "kiddo". Even if Anthony didn't think he was too young, he didn't want to make Rae uncomfortable, either. Rae already had a tense, difficult relationship with their stepmother Trisha, and Sören didn't want to become yet another stepparent figure causing issues.
So Sören pined quietly, even as the urge to just tell him already was getting stronger and stronger. As Sören paced, he wondered if perhaps their mutual transition anniversary was the right time to tell Anthony how much he not only looked up to him as something of a "big brother" mentor but had caught feelings, too.
And yet. And yet.
Sören sighed and looked down at his feet, clad in rainbow striped socks with penguins on them - the loudest part of his outfit, otherwise in jeans and a Deftones T-shirt - but despite the fact that Anthony had not merely seen him in fun socks numerous times but had bought several pairs for him on holidays, Sören still felt suddenly self-conscious, as if his funky socks somehow reinforced that he was too young.
Sören went to the bathroom just to run his hands under cold water and try to calm the spike of anxiety, and when he came back he heard Anthony's car pulling in. Sören ran to the door and opened it, waving madly, as Anthony got out of his Prius. Anthony raised a hand in greeting and gave a tired smile, then held up an index finger as a wait gesture and opened up the back seat. Then Anthony carried an IKEA bag to the front door.
"You went to IKEA?" Sören was confused, as Anthony was on time and hadn't sent a text.
"I went on my lunch break," Anthony said with an up-to-something smirk.
Once Anthony got inside, just before Sören could ask for his usual hug, Anthony thrust the bag at him. "This is for you."
Sören's eyebrows shot up. He took the bag to the couch, took out a large object wrapped in a bunch of blue tissue paper, and when he unwrapped it his laughter rang out. "Oh shit, it's Blåhaj!"
"Happy anniversary." Anthony's green eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
Sören threw his arms around Anthony, who chuckled and returned the hug. As warm and cozy as that hug felt, where Sören never wanted to let go, he also became painfully aware not just of Anthony's body against his, but the thin blue medical scrubs Anthony was wearing.
"I need to wash my hands and get changed," Anthony said. He ran a hand through his slightly-mussed short black hair, showing threads of silver and greying at the temples. He booped Sören's nose as he got up from the couch, and Sören's cheeks burned as he tingled from that little touch. Sören tried not to look at the way the scrubs hugged Anthony's ass just right - and failed.
Sören hugged the stuffed shark, delighted, though it made the cake seem almost redundant, and Sören felt a twinge of guilt that all he'd done was bake a cake that was meant for both of them, rather than getting Anthony a gift as well. Rae finally came out of their room, and busted out laughing when they saw the shark. Then they called down to Anthony. "Mumdad, do you want some tea?"
"Yes please," Anthony called from the bathroom.
Rae put on tea, and a few minutes later when Sören went to the kitchen to get himself some water, Anthony came out in a navy blue T-shirt and lighter blue plaid pajama bottoms, and gave Rae a hug, tousling their peacock blue undercut quiff. Rae's natural hair color was auburn, like Steve's, and had Steve's hazel-brown eyes, but otherwise looked like a shorter and more androgynous version of Anthony, just with a septum ring in their nose and large dichroic glass gauge plugs in their ears, and an ornate botanical sleeve tattoo of wildflowers and butterflies on their left arm which Sören himself had designed, since Rae had admired Sören's own sleeve tattoos of fire and water.
"How's my kiddos?" Anthony asked, reaching out for Sören and pulling him into the hug.
As much as Sören liked it when Anthony called him "kiddo" it also reinforced that feeling that Anthony thought he was too young. Sören forced a smile and nodded. "I'm doing OK."
"Pretty good," Rae said. "Hey, Alyx wants to come over this weekend, is that OK?" Alyx was Rae's enbyfriend, they'd met at Pride last month and had started dating.
"Yeah, that's fine," Anthony said. Then his nostrils twitched. "Something smells really good."
"I made arroz con pollo to say happy anniversary," Rae said, and gave their mumdad a hug. "So proud of you."
"Awww, bubbeleh." Anthony gave them a squeeze. "I appreciate it. I tried to get lunch at IKEA while I was there but the line was super long so I just had some crisps from the vending machine at work, I am starving."
"Hope you have room for cake, then." Sören shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"I always have room for cake." Anthony grinned.
Sören decided not to wait until after dinner, and showed Anthony the cake he made. Anthony howled. "Great minds," he said, which made Sören feel a bit less stupid about having made a cake that was the exact same as his surprise plushie.
Sören served the food and they all sat together in the living room, watching Supernatural. After cake, Maimonides signalled he needed to go out, so Anthony put on jeans and he and Sören took the dog for a walk. They lived on a cul-de-sac with a nearby small park, and while Maimonides did his business, Sören sat on one of the swings, watching Anthony and feeling wistful... feeling pensive.
Anthony was very observant - that was part of his job - and he gave Sören a little poke when he walked Maimonides back over. "What's eating you?"
"Unfortunately, no one at the moment," Sören quipped. Unfortunately, not you.
Anthony chuckled and turned slightly pink. He looked off to the side as if that comment flustered him a little - even though both he and Sören had said far worse - and then Anthony glanced back and tilted his head. "Is everything all right?"
"Jæja." Sören was tempted to blurt out his feelings, but once again his fear got in the way, so he went with some of the equation, not all of it. "I feel kind of bad that you got me a plushie and all I got you was a cake, which was really for both of us."
"Bitch, please." Anthony smirked, and Sören couldn't help laughing. "A cake was work. The plushie was a half-hour at IKEA."
"But you didn't even have lunch -"
"I made up for it." Anthony rubbed his still-flat stomach. "But seriously. You give me stuff all the time, like your beautiful paintings."
"That's different. I just." Sören shrugged. "It's been ten years and I feel like I should have done more -"
Anthony waved his hand. "Seriously, it was enough. I didn't transition to win any awards, you know, I just wanted to be my real self."
Sören couldn't resist flirting a little, even though he knew it was potentially going to make things weird - it was also testing the waters, just a little. "Well, you could win an award, like World's Hottest Trans Guy or something."
Anthony turned beetroot and grinned - the way his face lit up always took Sören's breath away - and then he bit his lower lip, looked down, rubbed the back of his neck, and Sören wondered if he'd stepped out of line, and decided to quickly change the subject. "How was work today? Is that antisemitic guy still there?"
"Brody?" Anthony nodded and his shoulders heaved with a sigh; sunlight glinted on the silver Magen David he wore around his neck every day, everywhere, even to bed. "He gets discharged tomorrow, thank fuck. I've had patients pop off at me before, but never as bad as this guy. I keep telling myself he's ill and doesn't have the best grip on reality, but it's also harder to let it roll off my back these days with everything going on in the world."
Sören nodded too. He reached out to give Anthony's hand a little reassuring squeeze. Anthony's mother was Jewish - his maternal grandmother had witnessed the Kristallnacht and fled Germany for England in 1939 via Kindertransport - and Sören had converted Reform two years ago, not in the hopes of getting Anthony to like him but because Anthony's connection to Judaism piqued his curiosity and Sören found a balm for the religious abuse of his fundamentalist Christian guardians, an affirmation that G-d loved him, queerness and all.
"Otherwise today wasn't too bad, nobody flipped out on us or threatened anybody. Even so, I'm glad I have this weekend off," Anthony said - he worked every other weekend; he justified working on Shabbat with pikuach nefesh, the mandate to save lives. "We could go to shul for Shabbat services on Saturday morning if you're up for it - I really need to go, after dealing with Brody's slurs and 'the Jews this, the Jews that' conspiracy bullshit for the last two weeks."
"I'd like that." Sören smiled. Then an idea came to him - a way to sort of make up for not buying Anthony a ten-year transition anniversary present. "So hey, how about on Saturday night or Sunday... is there anything special you want to do? Anywhere you want to go? I know you're going to tell me I don't have to get you anything but I really feel like we need to do something meaningful for it being ten years since you started transition."
Anthony laughed and booped Sören's nose - once again it sent a thrill through Sören, aching for more. Then Anthony stroked his chin in thought. "Off the top of my head, no... but give me some time to think about it."
The sun was starting to set, and Anthony and Sören walked back more slowly to enjoy the last golden light and the transition to blue dusk. More than once, Sören was tempted to take his hand, but held back. When their duplex was coming into view, Anthony paused and said, "OK, I have an idea."
"Hm?"
Anthony took a deep breath. "So, you know how my mum really wanted a daughter, and when I told her when I was a little kid back in the 80s I wanted to be a boy, she pushed back and started dressing me up in froo-froo outfits and even making me compete in beauty pageants and start modelling, till I was a teenager and ended up with an eating disorder because of the pressure to be thin."
Sören nodded, feeling that ache in his chest, wishing he could go back in time and protect younger Anthony.
"She also didn't want me doing male-coded hobbies or pastimes, either. I mean, I was born without the sports gene and still have no interest in it, but like..." Anthony looked down. "My uncle Nigel, one of my father's brothers -"
"The gay one. The war vet with PTSD." The reason why Anthony had decided to become a psychiatric nurse.
Anthony looked up and nodded. "He knew I wasn't a girl and he was a better father to me than my own father. He really wanted to take me camping, and my mum said no, not because she thought he would do anything inappropriate, but she thought it was too 'rough' and not 'ladylike', for fuck's sweet sake. And I mean, I think the entire idea of camping being 'for boys' is backwards, sexist 1950s shit, but that doesn't change the fact that I missed out on a lot of experiences that boys usually get to have growing up, and that one is a particular sore spot for me. Steve wasn't much of an outdoors person so we never did any of that while we were married, and I've always felt a bit daft about going camping by myself. I've wanted to take Rae, but they've got really bad seasonal allergies..."
"You want to go camping?"
"Yeah. It's OK if you don't want to -"
"No, I'd love to." Nature had been Sören's refuge away from home when he still lived in Iceland, and he hadn't done as much outdoorsy things since he'd moved to the US. "If I'd known you were down, I'd have volunteered it a long time ago."
"Well, it doesn't help that by the time my days off get here I'm usually tired as fuck from working 12-hour shifts all week and have barely enough time to rest and get things done. But I think it would be nice if we celebrate our manhood by doing something I didn't get to do growing up because my mum thought it was 'for boys'."
"I'm really glad she, ah, evolved." Sören grimaced.
Anthony nodded. "It doesn't make up for the way she doubled down and tried to get me to embrace femininity as a kid, but at least she has apologized and become a really strident ally and that counts for something. It still hurts that my father didn't come around until just before he died, and we had all those tense years where we were barely speaking because he'd made comments about me 'mutilating myself' and other rubbish."
Sören reached out now to put an arm around him; Anthony leaned on his shoulder for a moment.
"Is there anywhere in particular you want to go?" Sören asked, hoping to distract Anthony from the painful memories by giving him something to look forward to. "I bet there's a bunch of campsites around here."
"There are, but because it's Fourth of July weekend I'm guessing a lot of people are going to have the same idea to go camping and I'm not really keen on going someplace where we might encounter loud parties or drunks and ruin the atmosphere of getting back to nature."
"Same." Sören scowled.
They held that thought until after they'd gotten back inside and into pajamas, and Anthony made chamomile tea for winding down. When Solly sat on Anthony's lap, Anthony finally said, "Aha."
"Jæja?"
"So in Mansocket, on the other side of Springfield -"
Sören started snickering loudly at the name, not able to help himself. Anthony cackled too, then sobered and went on. "There's a reservoir, I think it's called Lewis Reservoir, and it's a really good spot for birding. Particularly to see swans. I've been there a few times over the years - just a few, not as often as I would like..."
"You can't legally camp at the reservoir though, can you?"
"No. But... in the reservoir, there's a small island, covered in trees. It's about a third of the way across the reservoir, theoretically not an impossible distance to cross with a raft. We would be less likely to get caught if we went out to the island and camped there overnight. We just have to make sure we pack well - including taking our waste with us - and..." Anthony called out, "RAE?"
A moment later Rae came out in an oversized Pikachu nightshirt. "Yo?"
"Do you want to go to shul with us on Saturday morning? And..." Anthony clasped his hands together. "I'll let you take the car for your weekend with Alyx if you go to an EV station to charge it sometime over the weekend and if you do me a really big favor."
"OK?"
"Sören and I want to go camping, so we need you to take care of the animals and... after shul, we need you to drop us off at the park and then pick us up the following morning."
Rae's eyebrows shot up. "I mean, sure, I can look after the critters, but you can't... just... park at a camping site?"
"We're going to Lewis Reservoir, it's in Mansocket which is why I'm asking to go after shul because we can just go right from Springfield, though we'll need to get changed after shul," Anthony explained. "We can't legally camp there, which means if we try to park there overnight we'll get caught. But we won't get caught if you drop us off and pick us up."
Rae smirked and put their hands on their hips. "Living dangerously, I see."
"Uh..." Anthony gave a guilty grin. "Don't do drugs, stay in school?"
Rae grinned back and threw the metal horns and began to sing "Breakin' the law, breakin' the law..."
Sören had a gigglefit. Then Rae nodded. "Sure, I'll take you. Do you need to get any stuff before you go camping?"
"I do, but I can pick it up on Friday on my lunch break or on the way home, before Shabbat -"
"Or we could," Sören said, looking at Rae - Sören didn't drive, and he was a remote worker so he didn't have to. "That would save you a trip. We just need to make a list."
"OK." Anthony nodded.
"That sounds good to me," Rae said. Then they laughed. "Wow, Mumdad, I can't believe you're about to do something illegal, and on Shabbat, no less."
"It's not that illegal. It's just a fine, not prison time. I would rather not pay the fine just the same, I think the fine is like a thousand dollars, and I'd have to pay Sören's fine too, in good conscience." Anthony shrugged. "I assure you this is not something I plan on doing on a regular basis... but I need this. It will be deeply nourishing to my spirit." He put a hand on his heart.
"OK, Mr. Outlaw." Rae made the OK hand and walked away singing "I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride, I'm wanted... dead or alive..."
Sören's mind immediately went into the gutter, fantasizing about Anthony on top of him, riding him, rubbing clit to clit, and then being on top of Anthony, with Anthony wearing a strap, riding it... Sören's face flushed and he looked away, hearing himself make a tiny little mortified noise that sounded like Beaker meeping.
"Are you OK?" Anthony put a hand on Sören's shoulder, sending fire through his veins. "You look really uncomfortable all of a sudden."
"Oh, I'm fine but you know, awkward and anxious is like my default setting." Sören gave a sheepish smile, and then he also sang Bon Jovi. "It's my life..."
That night Sören had difficulty getting to sleep.
He lay there for over an hour, feeling nervous about the impending camping trip with Anthony. Not merely because of what could possibly go wrong - getting caught and each of them being fined a thousand dollars, having an accident on the raft sailing out to the island, something happening to the raft and getting stuck there, needing to be rescued - but his bigger fear was making an ass of himself, saying or doing something that would potentially ruin all their years of friendship.
Especially if it involved his feelings for Anthony. Sören knew that in such a beautiful, romantic setting it was going to be extremely tempting to finally, after all this time, confess his love. While he knew there was a chance Anthony might not reject him and might be willing to give a relationship with him a try, Sören doubted very much the feelings were reciprocal since they'd known each other for years and Anthony had never given any hints. So there might be consequences if he spoke up - making things weird, possibly weird enough that he might need to move out.
And yet, he'd been carrying this ache for so long that it was getting unbearable. Enough so that it seemed like just sitting on his feelings and saying nothing for the rest of his life was an absolutely terrible option. And it seemed like a window of opportunity had opened, since they would be alone, not having to worry about Rae or crowds overhearing.
But Sören was still afraid. This felt like the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life, harder even than when he admitted to professionals he'd felt like a boy as long as he could remember - nobody had influenced him, he had just known he was in the wrong body somehow - and had begun the process of hormones, then top surgery, and then had to start his life over again in a new country when he'd run out of queer men open to being with trans men. He didn't regret transitioning to male, despite the struggles along the way, but he knew he might regret saying something to Anthony.
There's fuck-all you can do about it right now, Sören told himself. And if you don't get some sleep tonight it's going to throw you off all weekend.
With a sigh of resignation, Sören got up and quietly made his way to the kitchen, where they kept some herbal supplements for sleep alongside vitamins. Sören poured himself a cup of water from the cooler and portioned out two Chinese skullcap capsules. But before he could take them, he found himself crying a little, hating that he felt like such a coward about this... and feeling more powerless than he had in years, potentially seeing his life go up in flames once again because he couldn't help what his heart wanted.
Just as he swallowed down the skullcap, he heard footsteps. Sören startled slightly and turned around to see Anthony standing there, hair mussed, looking groggy.
"Oh shit, did I wake you? I'm sorry -"
Anthony shook his head. "No, you didn't. Actually, I can't sleep so I was coming to do the same thing you're doing, it looks like." Anthony took a few steps over and then he paused when in the dim glow of the kitchen nightlight, he saw the tears on Sören's cheeks. "Are you OK, kiddo?"
"I'm fine." But Sören's voice shook and then his jaw trembled - he hated crying in front of other people, it made him feel ashamed, he heard Einar's voice bellowing this is why you'll never be a real man in the back of his head even though he knew that was toxic masculinity and boys should be allowed to cry...
"You're not fine." Anthony took Sören in his arms and held him tight. The hug was comforting and yet it made everything worse. Sören quietly sobbed on Anthony's shoulder, not wanting to wake Rae. Anthony squeezed Sören and rocked him for a minute, ruffling his curls and making soothing noises, and then he asked, "You want to talk about it?"
"Just... stuff on my mind. Ball of nerves, as usual." Sören snuffled, not wanting to admit that almost all of it was Anthony.
Anthony patted him. "Yeah, I feel you. The world is such a bloody trashfire right now. Mum keeps asking me if I'll consider moving back to London if in November..." His voice trailed off. He didn't need to finish that sentence.
Of course, Sören was concerned about the US elections too, but that wasn't what was keeping him up tonight. And of course, Anthony wasn't experiencing the same angst about their camping trip, because why would he? He just sees you as a friend, Sören told himself, reflexively clenching his fists, wishing he could shut off his feelings and find someone else to fixate on. And then a fresh wave of tears came over him, as if he had already been defeated.
"Something tells me it's not just that, though," Anthony said, rocking him again. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I'm always here for you."
Sören swallowed hard. "Takk." Then he gave himself the easy out. "I mean, that's literally your job all day, is to be there for people with problems and listen if they need help. I don't want to make you keep working at home -"
"It's not work, with you." Anthony picked up Sören's chin and their eyes met. Anthony briefly touched Sören's cheek and Sören leaned into the touch, melting even as he thought of the Little Mermaid turning into seafoam, wishing he could resist and stop caring so much.
Anthony took two skullcap capsules and then he glanced at the clock on the microwave. "OK. Here. We need to get out of our heads for awhile." He took Sören by the hand and led Sören down the hall - not to Sören's bedroom, but his.
Sören's heart skipped a beat, wondering for the briefest instant if Anthony was going to suggest they have sex as a distraction - hoping - but instead, Anthony took the remote control to his bedroom TV and turned it on. He climbed onto his bed and patted the space beside him, indicating Sören should get next to him.
Anthony put on YouTube, and from there, a playlist of The Joy of Painting by Bob Ross. "Something soothing to zone out to," Anthony said, smiling.
"Happy little trees." Sören smiled back.
Anthony set the sleep timer for ninety minutes, and they lay back together, watching Bob Ross paint his happy little worlds and listening to him talk in that gentle, comforting way of his, that made all the troubles seem far away. A little while later, Shmuel and Sören's tuxedo cat Snúður joined them on the bed, with Snúður curling up next to Sören's thigh and Shmuel kneading his front paws on Sören's chest, purring loudly. The cats further relaxed Sören, and he mostly managed to unwind, despite that wistful feeling with Anthony so close to him.
Closer and closer. As time wore on, Anthony rolled in gradually until he and Sören were leaning on each other. When Sören's eyes got heavy and he felt himself fading, he turned onto his side, and as he continued to drop into sleep he felt Anthony's chest against his back, Anthony's arms around him.
They were spooning.
Sören swallowed hard. He knew it probably didn't mean anything on Anthony's end - even though he desperately hoped it did - but it felt good just the same. It felt right. It made Sören feel safe, like Anthony's body was a shield wall. Sören let himself continue sinking into the black void of rest.
Sören managed to sleep right up until Anthony's alarm went off, and when Anthony hit the snooze button, Sören dozed again. He woke close to forty minutes later, feeling a cool spot in the bed and making a small whine of protest.
Just as Sören sat up, bleary-eyed and yawning, Anthony strode into the room wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair rumpled and wet, chest hair glistening. "Hey," Anthony said as he grabbed a pair of boxer-briefs out of his top drawer like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Did you sleep OK?"
Sören nodded. He couldn't make words. Or rather - he couldn't string two words together that weren't commentary on Anthony in a towel. Sören had seen Anthony shirtless a bunch of times before, or wearing a T-shirt and shorts, but this was the most he'd ever seen of Anthony's body at any given time. Sören tried not to stare, but he couldn't help admiring Anthony's lean-muscled build, the lush dark pelt on his chest, the furry arms and legs, the hard pink nipples, the faded top surgery scars that looked like the scars of a warrior, the freckles on his shoulders and shapely back... the treasure trail.
Fuck. Sören tried to keep his mouth closed. Tried not to drool.
"I, ah. Better give you some privacy," Sören said as he watched Anthony pick out a fresh pair of blue scrubs for the day.
"OK. There's coffee freshly made, and I left you some oatmeal if you want it. It's got cinnamon and brown sugar."
I'm definitely hungry for something else. Sören kept that thought to himself and hurried out of Anthony's bedroom, face on fire.
Sören poured himself some coffee and added a splash of mint creamer, and spooned the still-warm oatmeal from the pan on the stove into a bowl, adding Greek yogurt and blueberries. He tried to distract himself with food - and the cats begging like Anthony hadn't just fed them a short while ago - but his thoughts kept going back to Anthony wearing nothing but a towel.
Eventually Anthony came out in his scrubs, with his hair neatly combed and gelled; Sören caught a faint whiff of jasmine notes in the cologne Anthony wore. "Thank you for last night," Sören said through a mouthful of oatmeal.
"You're welcome." Anthony smiled. "You're warm and cozy, like a living blanket."
And you're hot, like a house on fire. Sören didn't say it out loud, annoyed with himself for undressing Anthony with his eyes, watching Anthony's ass in those scrubs as Anthony got his cell phone and wallet and keys and his lanyard for work with his ID badge and security fob... wishing he'd gotten to see Anthony's bare ass.
Sören stopped chewing. "I hope you have a good day at work today."
"Thanks. You too, and I hope you have a good trip with Rae. I'll text you a shopping list for camping supplies when I'm on break this morning, if you want."
"I can probably Google what we need - I already know we need a raft - and if I forgot anything, we could get it tonight before Shabbat starts," Sören said - they didn't like to go shopping on Saturdays as a rule.
"OK, works for me." Anthony opened his wallet and handed Sören one of his credit cards for the camping supplies.
Rae was still sleeping for another hour - they had the day off from their part-time job today, and tended to sleep in when they didn't have to work or be anywhere else in the morning - so Sören still endeavored to be quiet once Anthony left and he cleaned up after himself, rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher, scrubbing down the countertops and the table. Sören had another cup of coffee and then he decided it was time to take a shower. But once he was in the shower, his thoughts returned to Anthony who had been in here naked a short time ago, and his mind conjured a delicious fantasy of them showering together, kissing and caressing and teasing each other. He thought about getting down on his knees and licking Anthony's treasure trail, then going down on him right in the shower.
By the time Sören was done with his shower he was slick and hard, and ready to climb the walls with frustration. And when he went to put his dirty clothes in the hamper, a sudden perverse urge overtook him - he pulled out Anthony's boxer-briefs from yesterday and breathed in the scent. He found himself taking the boxer-briefs to his room. Instead of getting dressed right away, Sören put the used underwear on the bed, and went to the drawer where he kept a few toys. He considered for a moment, and took out the pocket pussy, which he'd played with countless times fantasizing that it was Anthony grinding against him. Cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and lust, Sören took Anthony's underwear and rubbed it against the pocket pussy to get the scent on it, inspecting a few times until he felt it smelled enough like Anthony's cunt.
Sören lay back and began to lick at the pocket pussy, touching himself with his free hand, imagining that he was eating out Anthony. He got into it, sucking on the faux clit - knowing Anthony's was likely bigger, after years on T, and knowing Anthony was probably unshaven down there, just like he was... but the pocket pussy would do for now. He lapped and sucked at the clit until the pocket pussy was slick from his tongue and his fingers were drenched in his own cream, his pussy making sloshy sounds as he pawed at himself.
Sören spread his thighs and pressed the pocket pussy down on his pussy. He turned his head so his pillows would muffle his moan of "Anthony," not wanting Rae to hear. Sören moved the toy slowly back and forth, side to side, in circles, picturing Anthony on top of him, fucking him. After a few minutes Sören worked it furiously, fucking himself hard, bucking his hips to match the rhythm, making soft wet suctioning sounds. He lost himself in the fantasy of Anthony conquering him, the bed slamming against the wall, their pussies louder than their moans and cries. Sören covered his mouth with his free hand, trying to contain his ragged breath, his groans as he got closer and closer, trying to hold back, edging himself, exciting his clit, his entire body trembling, heart hammering.
At last he gave in, squeaking into his hand as he climaxed, squirting over the pocket pussy. He looked down and watched his clit twitching, his mound pulsing... the pocket pussy dripping with his juices. He brought it up to his nose to smell the combined scent of his and Anthony's cunts, and then he started crying again, both from the intensity of his release and also how ashamed he felt, doing something so depraved, and yet so delicious.
The wave of post-orgasmic relief hit and Sören lay there a few minutes feeling like he was floating outside his body, and then like he was made of jelly. When he was able to move again, he sat up and got dressed, then returned Anthony's underwear to the laundry hamper as quickly as he could, taking care to arrange it underneath his own dirty clothes and crumpled the way Anthony had left it, hoping Anthony wouldn't somehow notice before it was time to do laundry again.
You sick fuck, Sören scolded himself as he cleaned the pocket pussy, while he admitted that had been a damn good orgasm.
It did, however, confirm for him that he needed to finally just say something, this weekend. As terrified as he was of rejection, it was eating at his soul.