Though Anthony and Sören had timed their errands to beat the predicted afternoon rain, the downpour began an hour ahead of schedule, and it was a mad dash through the parking lot at their last stop - one where Sören tripped and fell in a puddle - and they got soaked again on the way from the driveway into the house. A few squishy steps into the foyer, Anthony paused and immediately began to disrobe, not just his outerwear and shoes, but he took off his clothes as well.
Sören laughed and followed suit, and then the two brought their groceries from the foyer into the house, stark naked, with Anthony carrying their drenched clothes over his arm. Anthony started a load of laundry while Sören put the groceries away, and once the washer was running Anthony came out to help with the last of the groceries, then hugged a shivering Sören, nuzzling his neck and beard, petting his damp curls.
"Poor baby," Anthony said. "I'm sorry you fell. Are you OK?"
"I think so. I'll probably have a few bruises tomorrow, but it doesn't seem like anything is broken or sprained."
Anthony gave him a kiss. "If you want to start a fire, I'll feed these starving cats and put on tea."
One of Sören's favorite things about their little cottage - besides the spare bedroom that served as his art studio - was having a real fireplace. Once the fire was lit, Sören sat in front of the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around him, but he felt the cold into his bones. He was annoyed with himself for being this cold - he'd grown up in Iceland, after all - but five years in the States had reduced his cold tolerance considerably.
Anthony came out a short while later with his grandmother's tea service, which had survived being shipped across the Atlantic Ocean when he'd left the UK. When he saw Sören was still cold despite the fire, he clucked like a mother hen, put the tea service down on the coffee table, and made a "wait here" gesture. Sören heard his footsteps a short distance down the hall, then the hall closet opening. Anthony came back with a couple more blankets and some pillows.
"Let's make a little nest," Anthony said.
Sören helped, getting quilts, and Anthony retrieved more pillows. Together they built a nest in front of the fire with a quilt on top of pillows, then more pillows propped up on top of the quilt, blankets on the makeshift bed, and a blanket as a canopy. Once Sören was tucked in, Anthony put on music - Sören smiled at Anthony's playlist of jazz, starting with Billie Holliday. Then Anthony gingerly crawled in with the tea set.
The tea and blankets quickly warmed Sören, and when they were done having tea Anthony put the tea set off to the side, lay back, and pulled Sören against his chest. Their two cats joined them in the nest, laying at their feet. Sören snuggled into Anthony's dark pelt of chest hair, listening to his heartbeat, the sound of rain outside, the crackle of the fire, the loud purr of the cats, and John Coltrane... basking in the glow of the fire.
"This is nice," Sören murmured. He wanted to savor this moment of perfect peace as long as possible.
Anthony kissed Sören's brow and stroked his curls, gently rubbed his back. "I love you."
"Ég elska þig, ástin mín."
Sören touched Anthony's cheek, and Anthony's boyishly handsome face lit up in a smile. Sören couldn't help smiling back, and his smile continued as Anthony's arms tightened around him and Sören stroked Anthony's silvering dark hair and studied the gold flecks in Anthony's moss-green eyes, burning Anthony's look of contentment into his mind's eye to cherish the memory.
The world seemed to stop, a time for them to just be, holding each other in the firelight, soft jazz playing in the background. Sören wasn't cold anymore - now he was throwing off his usual amount of body heat as they lay there skin to skin, naked under the blankets, legs entwined. He felt safe and loved in their cozy nest, and he hoped Anthony felt it too. Days like this just made him love Anthony even more.
Sören found himself lazily running his fingers through Anthony's chest hair, tenderly tracing the top surgery scars. Anthony smiled again and kissed the tip of Sören's nose, and after Sören returned the nose kiss he couldn't help but rain kisses over Anthony's face, making Anthony laugh and do the same. They rubbed noses and their lips met, sharing a soft, sweet kiss. Then another one, more lingering. Then they were kissing in earnest, tongues swirling. Anthony's hands slid down Sören's back to cup his ass, and Sören moaned, knowing where this was going. One kiss became another and another, before Anthony's thumb traced Sören's lips as he kissed and licked Sören's sensitive neck. "You want..."
"God, yes," Sören sighed, his cunt throbbing.
Anthony continued kissing and licking Sören's neck and the sweet hollow of his shoulder, making Sören moan again as his hand reached between Sören's legs, fingers slowly stroking Sören's clit. Their mouths met again, kissing deep and hungry, then they kissed open-mouthed, tongues playfully lapping. Anthony nibbled Sören's neck with a growl as he rolled Sören onto his back, and Sören arched to him, spreading his thighs.
Anthony and Sören had done this hundreds of times already if not thousands, but it always felt like magic when their cunts kissed. Anthony began to thrust his hips, slowly rubbing against Sören, clit caressing clit. Sören held onto him, gently rolling his hips in time with Anthony's, moaning as he savored the sweetness of their bodies fitting together in such an intimate way, knowing how to give each other so much pleasure. Clit brushed clit, teasing back and forth, then in slow circles, as they kissed and their hands wandered over each other's bodies, touching, teasing.
It wasn't long before they were both dripping cream and it felt like gliding on wet silk. Anthony tried to keep it slow, the two of them just enjoying the sensuality, but when Anthony started kissing and licking Sören's neck again, Sören's nails dug in Anthony's back and that always drove Anthony wild, pressing into Sören more firmly and rubbing faster.
Soon the blankets were kicked off and they were sweating as Anthony rode Sören hard, their cunts making filthy wet slurping, smacking sounds as clit fucked clit, rubbing together in the most delicious rhythm. Anthony's grunts followed Sören's moans, Anthony growling at Sören's whimpers. The sloppy sound of their fuck was louder than their broken cries, clinging to each other, panting, breathing each other's breath.
"Daddy," Sören wailed, nails digging in Anthony's back again. He was completely lost in pleasure, each stroke of their clits more and more intense, needing to come but never wanting this to stop. "Daddy, Daddy..."
"Yes, baby." Anthony nibbled Sören's neck. "That's my good boy. My good, sweet boy..."
"Daddy..." Sören bit his lip and whined, bucking his hips madly. He was so close, but trying to hang on as long as he could, make it last.
And then they were both right there, eyes locked, both of them quivering, breath in ragged gasps. Sören felt himself at that point of no return. "Daddy, Daddy, I'm gonna -"
"Yes baby, come for Daddy."
"DADDY! PABBI!" Sören's nails raked Anthony's back as he gave into his climax.
Anthony let out a feral snarl as he came too. Anthony contracting against him made Sören's orgasm pulse all the harder, and his toes curled just before his cunt gushed. Then Anthony squirted inside him with a soft cry and Sören let out a shuddery sigh, loving that feeling of being marked, claimed.
Sweat ran into his eyes at the same moment where his cunt let out another flow of juices, and Sören broke out into a gigglefit.
"What?" Anthony narrowed his eyes.
"We got wet again."
Anthony grinned and laughed too. "So we did." Then he hugged Sören tight and gave him a squeeze, making a murmur of pleasure into Sören's neck. "At least it's not cold this time."
"You keep me warm, elskan," Sören husked, putting Anthony's hand on his heart.