It was Christmas Eve, and for the first time since he was a child, Dooku felt like celebrating.
When he was a child, he had been very devout, Romanian Orthodox - he had even wanted to be a priest at one time, before he lost his faith. He loved the Christmas services, the tale of baby Jesus born in a manger, humble beginnings for the King of Kings, Christ's compassion later in life for the poor and downtrodden, teachings that people should be kind to one another because we are all poor in spirit. Even when he'd stopped believing, he still valued that message; his belief had brought him comfort as a child, abused by his parents, hoping God had compassion for him and still loved him. Suffer not the little children. As he got older, Christmas was not just a brutal reminder of his father's alcoholism which managed to ruin every holiday, but of his loss of faith.
Tonight, he could almost believe again. Somehow, things had worked out. He was not alone in the world anymore.
At least for now. As Marcus and Dooku walked through the display of Christmas lights, hand in hand, into the little tree lot to pick out something for Marcus's flat, Dooku wondered what would happen when he went back to London on the second. If this was just a fling, two lonely men seeking comfort in each other in the darkness and cold of winter, the bitterness of the holiday season which wasn't happy for either of them... or if it was the beginning of their redemption, their own North Star guiding them.
Marcus chose the smallest tree being sold, since his flat was small without much room for a tree - even the little tree would make things even more cramped. And the little tree was a pain to lug back to Marcus's flat, shedding needles, both of them getting sticky with sap.
They were still in good spirits when they got back to the flat, Marcus relocating the glass sculpture from on top of the bookshelf to the coffee table, putting the tree up there. He'd bought a string of lights and a box of decorations, and he and Dooku set about making the tree pretty, turning off the lights in the flat once the tree was lit up to better appreciate it.
Marcus put an arm around him.
"Happy Christmas," Dooku said.
"Oh Scheiße, I almost forgot."
A mistletoe came out of the box of decorations, and Marcus dangled it over their heads, laughing. Dooku grabbed him and kissed him hard.
They were breathless when they pulled apart. Marcus had a mischievous gleam in his eyes, grinning as he said, "I should really get started on Christmas dinner..."
"It's not food I'm hungry for right now."
They sixty-nined on the couch, sucking each other passionately. They hadn't had penetrative sex yet - they'd had a lot of sex, but only oral, hands, frotting - but they'd been working their way there with fingering each other, which they did now as they sucked. Marcus was able to get three fingers in him this time, Dooku fucking himself on Marcus's fingers, the sweet rubbing at his prostate intensifying the pleasure of Marcus's mouth wrapped around his cock. His own fingers worked harder and faster inside Marcus, who made the most delicious frantic whimpers with his mouth full. They came at the same time, flooding each other's mouths, swallowing it down, loving it.
They settled into each other's arms, kissing, then resting together for awhile. Finally Marcus patted him. "All right, I really do need to cook now."
Dooku took a shower as Marcus worked in the kitchen, and Dooku decided to clean himself out really well.Tonight's the night. He was still a little nervous about giving himself to Marcus that way, as Marcus was not small, but he remembered what Marcus's fingers had felt like inside him... He shuddered.
He put on pajamas and sat on the couch while Marcus continued cooking. Dooku picked up one of the magazines, a good chance to continue practicing his German, but the glass ball on the coffee table kept catching his eye. Finally Dooku put down the magazine and just studied the ball for a minute, and it seemed like the swirling colors inside the ball seemed to change colors and start spiralling, slowly, and then the curious feeling of going into the darkness of the glass, a sea of stars in his mind's eye... he was holding a sword, burning with rage, and before him was a giant wearing a fearsome horned helmet, swinging a hammer...
I am going to die, and I am taking you with me. Filth.
"Are you all right?" Marcus called from the kitchen area.
"Yes." Dooku buried his nose in the magazine, not sure what the hell that was all about. He knew the world was full of strange things - when Marcus had his back turned Dooku waved his hand and the ball nudged up an inch on the table without him touching it, so it was less in his line of sight, less of a distraction. There was strange, and there was that. Dooku wanted to chalk it up to an overactive imagination, mind wandering because he was so relaxed, but he couldn't shake the feeling of how real that had been, the fury he'd felt.
The suicidal despair.
This is Christmas. Don't dwell on that now.
Their Christmas dinner was a casserole of cabbage, ham, sauerkraut, egg noodles, and Swiss cheese, with caraway seeds. It was tasty and filling and appropriate on a cold night like this. They had beer on the side. Earlier in the day Marcus had baked an assortment of Christmas cookies, which they nibbled on after dinner, listening to Christmas music on vinyl. At last they just held each other, Dooku petting Marcus's hair, feeling like all was right with the world.
They'd talked about gifts two days ago and mutually decided to donate to charity in each other's names instead, since neither of them lacked for material things - even though Marcus had a small flat, and walked or took public transit most of the time, his clothes were well-made and there was evidence he was better-off than he seemed. Dooku appreciated he'd found someone who shared his values, and he thought about that again as he stroked Marcus's hair, listening to his breath, breathing in the same slow, easy rhythm.
"Pfennig for your thoughts." Marcus glanced up at him.
"You're a good man." Dooku kissed his brow.
"I don't know about good." Marcus frowned.
"I defend criminals for a living. I think I know guilt and innocence when I see it."
Marcus's arms tightened around him, and his face went into Dooku's shoulder, with a shuddery sigh. A couple heaves, and Dooku knew he was crying.
Dooku took Marcus's face in his hands. "What's the matter, love?" The word just slipped out.
Marcus looked away.
"I know Christmas is a difficult time for both of us," Dooku said. "You miss your family, don't you?"
Marcus nodded and closed his eyes, the tears flowing.
Dooku took Marcus's bad hand and kissed the scar on his palm. Marcus wept then, crying as brokenly as Dooku had ever heard anyone cry, and he made the connection. "You... you blame yourself for what happened."
A nod again.
"Oh no." Dooku pulled him close, held him tight, rocked him, pet him. "I don't know what happened, but it couldn't possibly be all your fault. You didn't murder anyone -"
A sob.
"Shhhhh. I know they're gone. I know it hurts." Dooku swallowed hard. "They say time heals all wounds, but it never stops hurting, really."
"You're the first person who seems to understand that."
"I've lived it. I live it now." Dooku cupped Marcus's chin in his hand, kissed his tears. "And I know we haven't known each other that long, but I know you here." Dooku put his hand on his heart. "We're both hurting, we're both broken, but we fit each other's broken places. Or, we can, if you let me."
Marcus kissed him hard, and Dooku kissed him back just as hard. With trembling hands, Marcus began to undo the buttons of Dooku's pajama top, his fingers threading through the chest hair, looking at him hungrily between feverish kisses. Dooku was painfully hard by the time his pajama top was unbuttoned, and he pulled off Marcus's own shirt, raining kisses over his chest, feasting on Marcus's nipples as he clutched Dooku's head, gasped, cried out, shivered.
They kissed again, and then Marcus got up. "Hold that thought," he said, and departed to the bathroom.
Dooku decided to unfold the couch, make the bed, and then, got naked, while he heard the sink running. When Marcus came back from the bathroom Dooku was stretched out, propped up on one elbow, fully nude, fully erect, lazily stroking himself. Marcus let out an appreciative groan, and shucked the rest of his clothing before joining Dooku on the bed.
Dooku noticed then he'd brought condoms and lube. He decided he was going to trust Marcus's claim that he hadn't been with anyone in years at face value, even though he knew it would normally be too much of a risk.
"Only if you want to," Marcus said, looking at the condoms and lube, looking back at Dooku.
"I want to. I'm ready."
They kissed. Marcus stroked his face, his whiskers, and asked, "Who first?"
"Take me."
Marcus took his sweet time getting there, worshiping every inch of Dooku's body, from neck to ankles, kissing, licking, nibbling, caressing. In just a few days he'd learned his lover's body well, showing extra love to his nipples, stomach, hips, thighs, behind the knee. Dooku didn't just love the sensations, the electricity of Marcus's mouth and fingers playing over him, but he loved watching Marcus's sensual enjoyment of him, the smoldering look on his face as he feasted. Marcus was gorgeous to look at, and none moreso in the throes of passion, looking like pure sex as he gave pleasure.
Marcus sucked at him awhile, but it became apparent that this, too, was foreplay, and not to come like that, not this time. Marcus licked his cock all over, kissed the head, licked some more, down to lick and suck at the balls, and then he kissed the sensitive place between balls and ass. When his tongue slipped inside Dooku's opening he was almost undone, crying out, grabbing Marcus's hair. And it only got better, more exquisite, his tongue stroking the prostate, brushing, fluttering, teasing and teasing. Marcus's fingers inside him had been a delight, and this... his body sang. He heard himself making the most undignified noises as Marcus ate him, gently and sweetly at first, then with a hunger that was almost terrifying in its intensity, tongue lashing, driving him to the brink again and again, keeping him dangling on that edge, the edge building sharper and sharper, need hotter and hotter, until it consumed him, until it was all that mattered, all that existed.
"Please. Now."
Marcus pulled back, and reached for a condom. Dooku took it out of his hands. "I trust you."
He gasped as the lubricant squirted inside him, and gasped again as he felt the tip of Marcus's cock press against his opening.
"Deep breaths. Push out as I push in, it'll help."
With that, Marcus began his descent. It stabbed, it burned, then it pinched, despite Marcus trying to go slow and gentle. Dooku grit his teeth, remembering what Marcus told him.
"Do you need me to stop?" Marcus looked at him with concern.
"Keep going." I want to give myself to you.
At last, somehow, Marcus was all the way inside. He rested there, letting Dooku adjust to the fullness of him. There was a look on Marcus's face that let Dooku know he was already close just from the tight, slick heat, and it made Dooku want. Want enough to brave the pain.
A few strokes, and the pain wasn't pain anymore. "Oh my god." It was like Marcus's tongue or fingers inside him but even more exquisite. His cock responded, throbbing.
"Yes?"
"Yes." Dooku wrapped his arms around Marcus and began to roll his hips, matching Marcus's rhythm. "Oh, god." His eyes rolled, and he shuddered, the sweet, sweet rubbing inside him, it had all been worth it to feel this.
Marcus was breathing harder, looking lost in bliss. "Nicolae. Oh, Nicolae, you feel so good to me."
Dooku shivered at those words. Just as wonderful as the stroking against that sweet spot, which was somehow also pleasuring his cock, was the feeling of connectedness. Joined together, one inside the other. One flesh. There was no sin, no shame. "This is right," he heard himself say. "So right."
"Yes." Their eyes met.
They kissed, and then Dooku blurted out, "Ich liebe dich." He meant it. He knew he was taking a risk, saying it, maybe the feelings weren't returned -
"Ich liebe dich auch, Liebling." Marcus kissed him harder, and started to rock away inside him.
The tender, slow, sensual lovemaking gave way to raw, hot sex, Marcus pounding away inside him, driving him wild, frantic, desperately needing release, but needing to mate, to rut, to fuck. Dooku had never felt more alive, consumed in the flames of their passion, their need, two hard male bodies lusting for each other, hungering for each other, desire...
"Marcus." He was right there. "Marcus..."
"Come for me, Nicolae."
Dooku came with a strangled sob, shattering, spurting all over Marcus's gorgeous body, rewarded by the feeling of Marcus seeding him a moment later, white-hot, blasting against the sensitive, throbbing place inside him, setting off another wave of orgasm. "Marcus." Dooku trembled, toes curling, fingers curling.
"Nicolae." They kissed, and Dooku saw tears in Marcus's eyes again. "Mein Gott, Nicolae."
Dooku kissed him back, holding him tight, never wanting to let go.
They snuggled together, until the fever overtook them again, Marcus stirring inside him as they kissed passionately. Dooku made a little noise of protest as Marcus pulled out, and then Marcus rolled onto his back, pulling Dooku on top of him. "Your turn."
Dooku feasted on Marcus's body the way he'd been feasted on, caressing, stroking, nibbling, kissing, licking him everywhere. "So beautiful," Dooku whispered between kisses over Marcus's chest, stomach, thighs. "Like a work of art. You're exquisite, Marcus."
He was a little shy about putting his tongue in there, but his shyness gave way to passion once he got going and Marcus arched to him, bucking his hips, fucking the tongue working inside him, panting, gasping, trembling, whimpering. He tasted clean, with a hint of musk, and Dooku shuddered as he remembered the way Marcus's tongue had felt inside him. If I'm making him feel even a tenth of that... He worked his tongue faster, harder, smiling a little as he heard Marcus cry out. His cock throbbed at the howling, broken noises, watching Marcus utterly lost in passion, shaking like a leaf... and Marcus's cock was dripping copious amounts of precum, that he couldn't help but take a few licks at to taste, before his tongue went back into Marcus's channel, devouring, loving it. Dooku found he was stroking himself as he ate Marcus, surprised by how much he loved doing this to him.
I could do this to you every night and not ever get tired of it.
That thought exhilarated him and terrified him all at once.
"Nicolae, take me." Marcus's voice shook.
Dooku took a few last teasing licks at the head of Marcus's cock, and then he applied the lubricant - extra lube on his cock, and he worked slick fingers into Marcus, kissing him. "You're sure?"
Marcus nodded, holding his gaze.
Dooku went as slowly and gently as he could, and when he bottomed out inside Marcus it took his breath away. It was like coming home, to a home he hadn't even known he had.
"I love you," Dooku heard himself say.
Marcus pulled his head towards him and kissed him hard, rolling his hips gently to encourage the first thrust. "I love you." His bad hand rested on Dooku's heart. "Take me. Make me yours."
Dooku kissed him hard, and started the push and pull. The delicious, delicious push and pull, Marcus was like velvet, a vise wrapped in velvet. He knew he hit that spot inside him when Marcus shuddered and made a guttural noise, and Dooku kissed him again, playing with his hair.
Soon Marcus was urging him on harder, faster, nails in Dooku's back. Dooku didn't want to go too hard and hurt him, tight as he was - he was a little sore from his first bottoming experience - but he gave in with Marcus's teeth on his neck, one hand stroking Marcus's cock in the rhythm of his thrusts, the other playing with Marcus's nipples. The noises - including the slap of their flesh - and the sight of Marcus, the feel of him, the blazing, consuming passion, how they both wanted this, brought Dooku closer and closer. He wanted Marcus to come first - and how he wanted Marcus to come, to make him lose control, to give him ecstasy, to give euphoria to the beautiful soul who made such beautiful music, felt too deeply, had been through some kind of hell and still shone so brightly. He wanted to give comfort, the deepest comfort of full intimacy, full vulnerability, letting another touch wounds and replace the pain with pleasure.
Not alone anymore.
"Nicolae." Their eyes met. "Nicolae... Nicolae..."
"Darling." Dooku stroked his face. "My love."
They kissed deeply, and in that kiss they climaxed together, taking each other's hands and squeezing as they soared. They gasped for breath and kissed again, pleasure spiralling and spiralling, Dooku thinking of the colors he saw swirling in the glass, and then there were the lights on the tree, and everything was just light and fire.
He came to with Marcus petting him, smiling at him fondly.
"This has been the best Christmas of my life," Dooku said, pulling Marcus close to him.
Marcus nuzzled his beard. "Me too."
_
On New Year's Eve, it was Marcus's turn to visit Dooku's hotel room. They went out to dinner together, and walked in the park, which still had fairy lights up from the Christmas season, though it wouldn't for much longer. They sipped champagne on the balcony and watched the fireworks in the last hour of 1989, though Dooku noticed out of the corner of his eye that Marcus seemed bothered by the loud bangs, flinching a little each time - trying very hard to keep guarded and not show it, but he could still tell - and Dooku wondered if it was connected to his scars. Dooku decided not to mention it, but quietly took Marcus's bad hand, and his thumb stroked the scar on Marcus's palm, glancing at him across his champagne.
At last, it was midnight. It was 1990. A new decade.
They kissed, and made their way to the bed, undressing. But before they could climb onto the bed together, Dooku paused for a moment, his hands on Marcus's hips.
"What happens now?" he asked.
"We make love."
Dooku laughed, and then he shook his head. "I mean... with us."
Marcus took a deep breath, and then he stepped closer to Dooku and put his arms around him. He looked into Dooku's eyes. Then he looked down, and then he closed his eyes. He looked like he was thinking, and whatever he was thinking about was giving him pause, and Dooku's heart started to sink as the pit of his stomach rose.
Then their eyes met again. "What would you like to happen?"
They sat on the bed and had more champagne - Dooku had to stop himself from using the Force to pour them each a glass, not wanting to reveal what he could do just yet, if at all, ever, though there was a nagging sense that something about Marcus was not usual, either. "I want to be with you."
"We live in two different countries."
"We do." Dooku sighed. "I... I can fly back to London on the second, get things squared away to come here and practice international law. If you'll have me."
Marcus kissed him. "I've already got you."
Dooku pushed him back against the pillows, cradling him, kissing him deeply. "I know your flat is small, too small for two people. We could get a place -"
"I'll look for a place while you're in London. Has to be two bedrooms, because, you know."
"I know." Dooku nodded, not wanting to lie to the world to keep up appearances, but understanding the necessity of it all the same. "You don't think this is moving too fast...?"
"I feel like I've been waiting for you a very long time."
They kissed again, and Marcus's hand wrapped around Dooku's cock, parting his thighs, reaching for the lube.
"Happy New Year," Dooku said, and pushed into him.