"You almost done in there? I gotta piss like a racehorse."
Mark stopped brushing his hair and rolled his eyes. "In a minute."
"Dude, seriously, you've been in there for over an hour. I gotta go."
Mark opened the door and before he could even walk out of the bathroom, Russ marched in and immediately began to drop trou. Mark turned his back and chuckled at the tinkling sound.
Mark waited out in the hall, and after Russ had done his business and washed his hands, he sauntered out and stopped to take a long look at his brother, up and down.
"I haven't seen you fuss with your hair this much since the 80s," Russ said with a smirk. "At least there's no hairspray this time. I think you single-handedly caused that hole in the ozone layer -"
"Could we not?" Mark narrowed his eyes, though he was more annoyed with himself and his... choices... during the 80s, than with his brother. "And you know why. I'm trying to look good for my date."
"I still can't believe you're dating, after all this time. I mean, I know I was the one who told you to get laid, but I didn't expect you'd actually listen to me."
"Once in a very great while, people in this family listen to each other," Mark said. "But I'm not planning on getting laid tonight, since we have to work tomorrow and I'd prefer the first time not be a five-minute quickie. That's presuming Sören still wants to have sex with me after we, um, discuss..." Mark's voice trailed off. Russ wasn't innocent - far from it - but Mark still felt a little weird trying to mention his own kinky preferences to his brother.
"OK." Russ looked at his Mickey Mouse watch. "Shit, he's coming in twenty minutes?"
"Yepppppp." Mark's heart beat a little faster and his stomach began to churn. He glanced down the hall at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, walked down, and gave his hair a few more brush strokes even though it didn't really need it. His hair was his one vanity, falling down the middle of his back in silky black waves. He didn't know why it mattered that much - he and Sören were still getting to know each other and he wasn't entirely sure this would work out, even with the mutual understanding up front that neither of them was cohabitation-and-marriage material. But he'd been thinking of Sören all day, and he found himself tickled that it was Sören who was behind the SpiritOfFire42069 username, since they already had a spark between them.
Bernie had followed him into the bathroom and now the orange tabby looked up at him and meowed, as if to say I want brushies, Dad.
Mark put his brush away, stooped down to pet the cat, and then had Bernie follow him out to the living room, where Bernie sat on Mark's lap and he got out the cat brush and began to brush Bernie's luxurious long coat, while he skritched Bernie's whiskerpads and chin and behind the ears, soothed by the cat's loud purr. He got so caught up in brushing and skritching Bernie that when the knock came at the door, Mark jumped and the brush fell on the floor.
Mark gingerly put Bernie down on the floor and Bernie jumped right back up on his lap before he could get up. Mark tried to put Bernie on the floor again and Bernie immediately jumped on him and put his front paws on Mark's shoulder, aggressively headbutting and nuzzling Mark's face, purring loudly. There was another knock at the door, this time louder.
"Just a minute," Mark called. This time he picked up Bernie as he stood up, put Bernie down on the couch, and stepped away as quickly as possible, marching to the front door. He opened it and there was Sören.
"Uh, come in," Mark said, gesturing. Sören paused in the foyer to take his Doc Martens and hoodie off, and then they stood there for a moment in the foyer. Mark drank in the sight of him.
Sören was wearing a long-sleeved navy blue T-shirt and black cargo pants. Once again Mark admired the touch of grey in Sören's short dark hair and beard, the pouty lips, the sweet brown eyes.
Then Mark looked down and noticed Bernie had gotten cat hair all over his black T-shirt and in his haste to answer the door, he hadn't taken a few seconds to clean himself off with a lint roller. Mark's cheeks burned, even though he reminded himself Sören had a cat too and probably wasn't going to judge him. You spent an hour doing your hair and you're covered in cat hair. Good job, Mark mocked himself.
"Um." Mark's mouth was suddenly dry, his heart beating faster as his eyes met Sören's. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi." Sören's eyebrows shot up, as if to say can I come in the house now?
Mark led the way. While Russ understood he had a date and had offered to make himself scarce, Mark didn't want to impose on his brother too much so he had things set up in his bedroom instead of the living room. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Mark realized how that sounded - he should have asked if Sören wanted anything to drink instead. "Um, I haven't ordered Chinese yet, I figured we could look at the menu together when you're ready -"
"That's fine, and I'm good for now," Sören said.
In Mark's bedroom he'd set up a blanket fort with fairy lights and LED lanterns. He had a small HDTV set up at the edge of his bed. "Make yourself comfortable," Mark said.
Sören hesitantly climbed on the bed. Mark got on the other side and set things up. Before he could start an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, his dry mouth bothered him and he made a "wait here" gesture and came back with two small bottles of Pepsi. Sören accepted one with a mumbled thanks and Mark sat back down, stomach doing flip-flops. As the episode began, Mark passed over a bag of watermelon-flavored THC gummies. Sören took one and so did Mark.
They had mutually decided to start with season 2, when Riker grew the beard. They were mostly silent through the season 2 premiere episode, "The Child" - Mark was glad Sören wasn't one of those people who constantly interrupted a show to make commentary - and then as the end credits rolled, Mark started to feel the weed kick in. Sören apparently did too, asking to see the menu for the Chinese place.
They decided to split a vegetable fried rice and a vegetable lo mein, and to wait until after the delivery to start another episode of the show, so they weren't interrupted. That meant they had to do something to fill the time... and that meant it was time to talk.
Mark and Sören had, surprisingly, not discussed sex or kink much at all during their chats on FetLife - while they knew they were compatible as far as Mark being dominant and Sören being submissive, and Sören was old enough to fulfill Mark's daddy fetish, there had been some mutual understanding up-front that the sort of kinky roleplaying they would potentially indulge in also required trust and intimacy even at a casual level, so it was good to get to know each other and establish a bond of friendship first. But now...
Mark took out a notebook and pen. "OK, let's do this."
Sören sat up and blinked. It took him a moment and then he realized what Mark was talking about, and nodded.
Mark clicked his pen and opened the notebook. "Right off the bat - what are your hard limits?"
Sören gave a throaty chuckle. "It's honestly easier to tell you what I'm into than what I'm not into, but I suppose you need some important ones."
"Yeah, I kind of do."
Sören cleared his throat, nervously rubbed his chin, and he said. "I'm not into scat."
"Neither am I."
"I am into watersports, but it's not a must-have, so if you're not into it that's not a dealbreaker -"
Mark's cheeks burned. "I'm into it." He glanced off to the side. It had been a long, long time, but just the thought of it made his cock stir uncomfortably in his jeans, a frisson down his spine. He reflexively licked his lips, jotted it down, and then he said, "Go on."
"I'm not into humiliation play. It's OK to call me slut, whore, if you're into that, but I'm not into being made fun of about how small my dick is or my scars and I'm not into being told I'm 'not a real man' and that sort of thing. Most of my exes have been verbally abusive to me, and my guardians were, and I got bullied in school, so I can't deal with that shit."
Mark nodded. "I'm not into giving it, don't worry." He jotted it down anyway, and thought of Nerdanel making Fëanor cry, despite Feanor's best efforts to hide it.
"I'm not into heavy pain. I got hit with a belt when I was a kid, so anything that feels like that is going to trigger me. Spanking is OK - I love a good spanking - but not really into anything more than that as far as pain goes."
"OK." Mark was a bit of a sadist, but it was also not a must-have, and the thought of taking Sören over his knee and spanking that juicy ass... Mark shivered and his cock stiffened. He hoped he wasn't going to get harder than half-mast before the delivery arrived.
"The last one is the hardest one because it's the one most likely to be a dealbreaker." Sören exhaled. "I'm not into penetration. It's dysphoria, but also I have trauma issues from being raped repeatedly. I'm fine with everything else - though I usually don't enjoy receiving oral either."
"Are you a top?" Mark asked, cocking his head to one side, wondering what Sören was like with a strap-on even though he himself had no interest in penetration.
"Not really. I've done it, but I don't really care for it."
Mark nodded. "For what it's worth, I'm not into giving or receiving penetration. I'm what the gay community calls a 'side' - I like oral, handjobs, that sort of thing."
"Frot?" Lust flared in Sören's eyes. "I've had some bottom growth on T, not a huge amount, but decent, if you -"
"Yes." The thought of rubbing his cock against Sören's nub - he pictured it about the size of a thumb, small and cute - almost made him come in his pants.
Sören's breath hitched.
They had agreed on no sex the first date, just to get a better vibe check that wasn't influenced by hormones, but it was hard to keep to that agreement - quite literally, as Mark tried to discreetly adjust himself. Sören still seemed to know Mark was getting aroused, so he said, "Do you want to continue the other half of this conversation - what we're into - after the food and another episode?"
"Yeah," Mark said. "Do you want to watch something that isn't Next Gen while we wait for the food?"
"Is there a way for you to watch YouTube on that thing? We could watch Joy of Painting."
That tickled Mark, and that was what they did. Halfway through an episode, there was a knock at the door; Mark paused it and went to get the delivery. When he came back, they resumed the episode, eating and fending off the cats, who were a little too interested in their food. Mark got Bernie to play fetch, but then Bernie dropped his jingle mouse right in Mark's lo mein.
Sören laughed so hard he ended up spraying a mouthful of lo mein, which made him laugh harder. "Oh god. That made a great impression, right there. You probably won't want to see me again -"
"What if I have a kink for it?"
Mark didn't, but he couldn't resist making a joke to help put Sören at ease - he liked the quiet companionship, the peacefulness of watching Joy of Painting together in a blanket fort as rain fell outside. This was what he wanted. An awkward moment here and there, he could deal with. Truthfully, Mark found it rather endearing.
"Wow, that's freaky," Sören said. "But I won't think you're a real freak till you ask to tie me up with lo mein noodles."
Now it was Mark's turn to spill food on himself, and they doubled over on each other.
When they were done eating, they watched episode 2 of season 2 of Star Trek: The Next Generation, "Where Silence Has Lease", where the Enterprise is swallowed by a void that turns out to be an alien intelligence, wanting to test the limits of the human body. It got Mark thinking about the Void and his dead family, and the mortality and frailty of humans, and even though Mark had a nice buzz going from the weed, he still felt a bit sad by the time the episode was over. Though he tried to hide it, Sören seemed to notice.
"You OK?" Sören asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just..." Mark made a vague hand gesture. "Thinking about dead people I know." He decided to be as honest as he possibly could be without revealing his non-human nature, to a prospective partner. "It's part of why it's been awhile since I've had a relationship, not just the abuse, but being afraid to lose people again."
Sören wasn't wearing his usual finger rings or elbow braces, though he was wearing knee braces, black like his cargo pants, so Mark had barely noticed them until now, when Sören waved down at them. "I have Ehlers-Danlos and some of us live normal lifespans but some of us don't, and my body has been steadily breaking down since I hit thirty-five. Are you sure me having a chronic condition isn't going to aggravate your brainweasels?"
Mark smiled at the word "brainweasels". "I'll be OK," Mark said. He didn't want to add all humans have short lifespans to me. The fact was, he was so starved for companionship from someone other than his brother that even if Sören was going to die in a few years - which he just didn't know - a few years of intimacy was better than more empty loneliness. Mark looked into Sören's eyes, like a comforting cup of hot cocoa on a chilly fall night like this one. "I like you."
Sören's face lit up. "I like you too."
Mark smiled back.
About ten minutes into the next episode - "Elementary, My Dear Data", where the holodeck's version of Moriarty becomes self-aware, one of Mark's favorites - Sören and Mark began leaning on each other. Five minutes later, Sören was curled up on Mark's chest, with Mark's left arm around him. By the time the episode was over, Mark's right hand was in Sören's, and Sören's thumb traced the burn scar and Mark found it soothing rather than a painful reminder of his past - like Sören seemed to know on some level there was trauma behind that scar, and it was a show of acceptance.
"The Outrageous Okona" made Mark and Sören laugh, watching Data try to learn stand-up comedy. The laughter relaxed them further and Sören rolled against Mark and Mark put his arms around him, enjoying the feel of being the big spoon.
I could get used to this, Mark thought to himself.
Then, during "Loud As A Whisper", they changed positions and this time Sören was the big spoon, even though he was shorter. It had been so long since Mark had been held by anyone that it brought tears to his eyes, savoring the moment.
He was tempted to ask Sören to spend the night, even though that hadn't been what they'd agreed upon, and Sören hadn't brought a change of clothes - but Sören could always wear one of his T-shirts. Before Mark could work up enough nerve to ask, he heard Sören snoring softly, high enough to fall asleep.
Mark smiled to himself - that also meant Sören felt safe enough to fall asleep. Even though they still didn't know each other well, that was still a good sign. Mark let Sören sleep for a few minutes and then, reluctantly, he sat up and gently shook Sören awake. Sören woke with a start, and then when he realized what had happened, he facepalmed.
"Sorry," Sören said.
"Don't be sorry."
"I don't want you to get the impression I think you're boring," Sören said. He gave a sleepy smile. "I'm just high."
"I know." Mark grinned. "But it's getting late so probably I should send you home to feed your cat, I have to go to work tomorrow morning..."
Sören nodded.
Mark picked up the notebook again to continue the rest of their earlier conversation. "So, what are you into, besides watersports and spanking?"
"Bondage," Sören said. "Light bondage - wrists only. Like silk scarves or rope, handcuffs. I think my panic response would kick in too much with having my ankles bound and in any case I kind of have to be careful about positions - I'm hypermobile and I've actually gotten sports injuries from sex before, so no Kama Sutra stuff." Sören gave an apologetic little frown. "I can't kneel."
"That's still fine with me. And when you say you're submissive, what does that look like for you? Do you have a service kink, do you like being bossed around...?" Mark couldn't believe he was being so forward, even though he wasn't a prude at all, but he felt woefully out of practice and it had been the first time he'd had a discussion with a partner about all of this going in, as opposed to trying it months or years into a relationship, or visiting an establishment that specially catered to those needs.
"Well, I'm not into domestic servitude - my ex-husband treated me more like a housekeeper with a hole he could fuck, than an actual partner. But I do like giving oral, I like sensuality and spoiling a partner... I suppose I like being bossed around in the sense of being told what to do sexually but even more than that I like my partner being in control of when and how I can come. I like being teased. A lot."
Once again, Mark fought the urge to break their "no sex on the first date rule" and ask Sören to sleep over. He wrote it down, even though he was sure he would remember it - he would be thinking about it a lot, over the coming days till their next date. "I think we're compatible."
"Good."
"And on that note." Mark let out a deep sigh. "I better make you go home before I get tempted to keep you."
Sören nodded. "I need to go feed my kitty." Then Sören facepalmed and chuckled. "I mean actually feed the cat, that wasn't a euphemism for -"
"Oh god." Mark laughed, delighted with Sören's dirty mind. He meowed, and Sören meowed back. Then Mark asked, "Just so I don't offend you, what do you call your. Um. Your."
"My genitalia?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
"It's OK, better we have this discussion now. I'm fine with pussy, boypussy, and cunt, but I prefer to say cock instead of clit, feels less dysphoric. I think pussy or cunt doesn't feel as dysphoric to me as it could be because I've been around enough gay bottoms who apply that word to themselves."
"Makes sense and OK, I can remember that."
"Thank you for asking and not just assuming."
"Would you like me to walk you to your side?"
"If you don't mind."
It was drizzling and cold, and neither of them were dressed for it, so they hurried along - or at least tried to, Sören wasn't very fast - but then, under the awning at Sören's front door, they paused.
"I had fun," Sören said. "Thank you."
"Me too. You want to do this again on Sunday?" Their eyes locked. "You want to sleep over?"
"Yeah." Sören bit his lower lip.
Mark thought Sören looked so adorable doing that, that he threw decorum to the wind, pulled Sören against him, and their lips met for the first time. Sören's eyes widened as their lips crushed together, as if he'd forgotten how to kiss, and then his instinct kicked in and his lips parted. Mark enjoyed the feel of those soft, plump lips as their tongues slowly swirled and brushed, Mark's arms around Sören's waist, Sören's arms around Mark's neck. Mark pushed Sören against the front door as the kiss deepened, tongues rubbing more insistently... a promise of what they could do with those tongues, eventually.
Then Sören's cat meowed from behind the front door. Mark stepped back, both of them breathing harder, chuckling.
"I better go attend to His Majesty there," Sören said.
"Yes. So, seven on Sunday?"
"Works for me." Sören bit his lip again. "Have a good rest of the night."
"You too."
"Uh. Bye."
"Bye."
"Bye."
"Bye."
"Bye."
"Bye -"
This time Sören was the one to grab Mark, kissing him back fiercely, his hands sliding down Mark's chest and stomach and back up. Mark's nipples hardened and he felt that thrust in his loins, aching to follow Sören inside and rut with him right there on the living room floor. But after a moment of hungry kissing, they pulled back again, and Sören giggled as he fumbled with unlocking the door, and gave an awkward little wave as he stepped inside.
Later, after he'd gone to bed, Mark reached down his pajama bottoms, took himself in hand, and his mind's eye played his usual favorite kinky fantasy of dominating Fëanor - what could have been, what never was. Tying Fëanor up and teasing him, then making him watch as he stroked himself, making Fëanor beg.
As he got closer to climax, Fëanor turned to Sören in his fantasy and Mark stroked himself madly, coming hard and fast as he pictured making Sören come with his fingers and coming all over Sören's face. "Daddy," Mark moaned into the pillow.
He felt his usual twinge of guilt, but now he also felt a touch of hope - through this SpiritOfFire42069, it felt he had a spark of his father's flame for at least a little while. Light and warmth, after so much darkness and cold.
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