A week later, Nicholas and Sören were to have their second date. They'd technically had a mini-date mid-week - Nicholas had come over for dinner with Yeyette and Victor on Wednesday night and this time Sören attended rather than hiding in his over-the-garage apartment, and after Nicholas had spent some time with Victor he took a stroll with Sören around the neighborhood and they'd lingered for a little cuddling. It had been tempting to take Sören back to his place for another night of lovemaking, but he had to get up in the morning for work. So Saturday it was.
Nicholas and Sören had also exchanged e-mails during the week, getting to know each other. Comparing transition stories was an easy way to break the ice, which led to views on politics, then values, worldview and philosophy. Yeyette and Victor had mentioned Sören had a trauma history, and Sören got into some of it as part of his transition story - not so much to be overwhelming, but to give Nicholas a picture of "what you're getting into". Rather than scaring him off, Nicholas felt protective of him, all the moreso when Sören sent a sleepy selfie where he was curled up with a blue stuffed bunny.
Nicholas very much wanted to be Sören's daddy. While society would frown on their age difference, Nicholas knew that in antiquity gay relationships with an age gap like theirs was seen as normal and healthy love between men, the older man mentoring the younger man, as the younger man helped revitalize the older man. And there was something deeply nourishing about it between trans men, an affirmation of healthy masculinity. It wasn't just that Nicholas genuinely liked Sören and looked forward to spending time with him, but it was filling a part of his soul he didn't even know was missing.
Nonetheless, Nicholas still felt a bit self-conscious about how much he was thinking of Sören, how giddy he felt at the prospect of seeing him again - holding him again, touching him again - like he was a horny, smitten teenager. He'd masturbated an almost shameful amount of times that week thinking about their night together, and letting his mind run wild with delicious possibilities. As Nicholas turned onto the cul-de-sac where Yeyette and Victor lived that Saturday afternoon, his stomach was all butterflies, his cheeks were flushed, and he found himself grinning like an idiot.
Next to him in the passenger's seat was a green carnation set with baby's breath. Nicholas had learned pretty quickly into their e-mail conversations that Sören had none of the aversions trans men too often had to things society coded "feminine" like the color pink, or flowers, or soft toys, or hobbies and interests like art and fashion - Nicholas had to justify his love of cooking to more than one trans man over the years, and it was not merely tiresome but disgustingly sexist, this wasn't the 1950s anymore. He'd considered getting Sören a single red rose, but upon further reflection he thought a green carnation - Oscar Wilde's symbol of gay identity - would be more appropriate. So earlier that day he'd put in a custom order with a local florist.
As Nicholas drove down the cul-de-sac, his stomach turned to ice. There was a single police car sitting in front of Victor and Yeyette's house. "Mon câlisse de sacrement, de criss de marde," Nicholas said under his breath, hoping nothing catastrophic had happened. As he tried to figure out where to park - or if he should park, if he should just turn around - he caught Yeyette looking out the window at him, and a moment later Yeyette took a step outside the front door and gestured towards the house.
"Perfect timing," Yeyette said.
Nicholas tucked the carnation into the map pocket on his car door, pulled over behind the cop car and slowly got out of the car, bracing himself, hoping - praying, though he had long since lapsed from Catholic observance - that everything was all right. "Osti de tabarnak, what's going on?" Nicholas asked in French.
Yeyette continued to gesture for him to come in, and Nicholas began to walk faster, even though each step felt like lead. "Is Sören all right? Are you and Victor all right? Did something happen -"
"Sören's OK, we're all fine, nothing happened." Yeyette replied in French. "The police are just asking him a few questions."
"About..." Nicholas furrowed his brow, hoping Sören wasn't too good to be true and harboring a criminal past or present.
"So..." Yeyette exhaled and looked around, continuing to speak in French. "That guy Justin he was supposed to hook up with last weekend? Who stood him up? Apparently Justin - Justin Roberts - is dead, hit-and-run. Run over as he was going to his rental car in the hotel parking lot. The driver was wearing a balaclava -"
"So they think it's intentional, and they suspect Sören?"
"I think it's simply a formality, just a very annoying one." Yeyette pursed her lips. "Street cameras got the hit-and-run itself but then the cameras shorted for ten minutes and they can't find the car and its plates don't belong to anyone, anywhere. American plates, not British, just... fake. Gone."
"What." Nicholas's eyebrows shot up.
Yeyette nodded. "It gets better, or... worse. According to the police, Justin had some rape charges filed against him back in London, and he never did time for it. The police think it might possibly have been revenge from Justin's victim or someone in the victim's family, but they have to ask Sören anyway, since they looked through the phone on Justin's body to see if there were any clues, and traced Sören's number for more info." Yeyette shuddered. "I knew that Justin creep gave me bad vibes. I'm somehow not surprised he was accused of rape."
"Indeed." Nicholas frowned. "Very curious indeed." A frisson went down his spine, and Sören's words from Saturday night rang through his head. It feels like we were meant to find each other, somehow. It seemed now almost like there was Divine intervention, as much as Nicholas hated falling back on Catholic superstition.
"Anyway, Sören showed his bus pass stub to prove he wasn't anywhere near the scene at the time... You should come in and confirm his alibi, since you were right there."
Nicholas followed Yeyette into the house. Sören looked very obviously in distress on the couch, hugging his knees and rocking slightly, with a grimace that did not fade even when he saw Nicholas come in. Nicholas felt that protective instinct again, but knew now was not the time or place for it - a very tall, very burly police officer who appeared early forties, with buzz-cut red hair and a ruddy face was pacing around a couple feet away, talking on his two-way radio.
"Officer," Nicholas interrupted him, switching to English, noticing the gruffness in his voice. "I had tea with this young man at the Raven's Roost on Saturday afternoon. Here is my receipt, you will see two orders there." Nicholas took out his phone, went through his e-mail, and showed the electronic receipt which included a time stamp. "And if you call the Raven's Roost and ask to speak to Michael, that was our waiter. You can describe our appearances and he can vouch that we were there during the time of the -"
The officer nodded. "I believe ya, don't worry about it." His Boston accent was particularly strong. The officer then glanced over at Sören. "OK. I didn't think you did it, son, but you know how it is, we gotta ask."
"I get it," Sören said in a monotone, his teeth almost clenched.
The officer began walking towards the door. "I'll be on my way. Thanks for your cooperation, take care and have a good weekend."
"You too." Sören's voice was still flat.
The minute the officer left, Sören began hyperventilating. The cats came out and circled, now that the stranger was gone, and sensing Sören needed comforting. Yeyette gave Sören a quick hug and then Nicholas sat beside Sören on the couch and instinctively took Sören in his arms, pulling the younger man close. "It's all right," Nicholas said, petting his curls.
Victor came out from where he'd been waiting in the kitchen. "I'm really sorry," Sören said, giving Victor a pleading look.
Victor waved his hand dismissively. "It's not your fault."
"Is it bad I'm glad that guy is dead, if he's a rapist?" Yeyette's face registered disgust. "And that he came nowhere near you?"
Sören shook his head. "Guys like that usually don't do it just once, most victims don't report it." Sören blinked back tears. "It makes me wonder if he really just wanted to hook up, or if he..." His voice trailed off.
"Yeah." Yeyette nodded, and rubbed his shoulder, tousled his curls. "Anyway, we don't blame you for the police coming over unexpectedly. No one could have seen this coming."
"I hate the fucking police." Sören shuddered.
Nicholas kissed Sören's cheek; Victor smirked. Nicholas's arms tightened around Sören. "Are you still able to spend the weekend, or do you need time to decompress from -"
"Oh, I should be fine." Sören nuzzled him. "Just a little shaken up, but I'm not going to let this ruin our time together." Sören got up, gave Yeyette and Victor each a hug, then walked towards where he had a duffel bag by the door.
"Have fun, you guys," Yeyette said.
"Thank you," Nicholas replied, following Sören. Before Sören could open the door, he stopped to stoop and pet and skritch the cats rubbing against his ankles; Mibal the brown tabby stood on her hind legs and put her front paws on his knee, and gently nommed his wrist before he gave her extra pettings.
"Be good while your uncle is gone," Sören told the cats.
Nicholas opened the door for Sören - he held back from offering to take Sören's bag - and then they walked side by side down the path, out to where Nicholas's Jaguar was parked.
Sören was still visibly trembling and looked agitated when he got in the passenger's seat, and instead of starting the car right away, Nicholas gave him another hug. Nicholas reached with his left hand for the carnation in the map pocket, and when Sören closed his eyes and leaned into his neck, Nicholas brushed Sören's nose with the flower.
Sören's eyes opened wide and his face lit up. Nicholas smiled back, his heart once again skipping a beat at how beautiful Sören was. "Holy shit." Sören took the carnation.
"I considered getting a rose, but -"
"Oscar Wilde." Sören threw his arms around Nicholas's neck and kissed him passionately. Nicholas's entire body thrilled to the kiss and he resisted the urge just to take Sören immediately back to his place and ravish him.
"So thoughtful, thank you." Sören held the carnation and twirled it around, beaming. "You're really sweet."
"You deserve it." Nicholas glared in the general direction of the cop car, which was long gone. "Especially after today. You poor dear, that must have been quite nerve-wracking."
"Jæja." Sören took a deep breath and lay the carnation down on his lap. "Listen, I know you had plans to take me to that surf-and-turf place tonight, and I really hope you didn't make reservations, because I'm overstimulated and -"
"I didn't, and all right, I understand." Nicholas wanted to spoil Sören with an expensive dinner, and Yeyette had warned him that Sören had an aversion to anything that involved a suit and tie, so Nicholas had decided on a surf-and-turf with good reviews and where one wasn't required to dress up. Nicholas quickly racked his brain for ideas on something special that didn't require being around crowds and noise. After a moment it came to him. "How about we get takeout and bring it to the Public Garden? There's still a bit of color left on the trees."
"That sounds great, takk." Sören smiled at him again.
After stopping at Nicholas's duplex to drop off Sören's overnight bag and put the carnation in water, they headed back out, deciding on a sandwich shop for subs, soup and salad with lemonade. The stroll through Boston Public Garden was exactly the antidote Sören needed after the encounter with the police - it was mid-November and while some of the fall foliage had peaked weeks ago, other varieties of trees turned crimson and gold later in the fall and they paused here and there to admire the trees.
They found a nice spot by the Lagoon to have their lunch, eating and drinking in companionable silence as they looked out at the peaceful waters and the vibrant trees. Sören began to noticeably relax, and every now and again flashed him that sweet smile that took Nicholas's breath away.
When they were finished eating they just sat for awhile, cuddling - Sören leaned against Nicholas, his back to Nicholas's chest, and Nicholas wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his nose in Sören's curls, rocking him gently, savoring the closeness and connection. "This is nice," Sören said. "One of these days I should come out here with my tablet and do a digital painting of the happy little trees. Probably next fall, though."
Nicholas chuckled and tousled Sören's curls fondly. "It's also lovely here in the springtime. The swans and tulips are quite a sight in May."
"Jæja, you're right, I almost forgot. I really don't come here as often as I should. Like, only a few times a year, I should try to get here at least once or twice a month, it's so pretty here." Sören put his hands on Nicholas's hands. "I used to go hiking and bicycling all the time when I lived in Iceland - I tried to stay out of my aunt and uncle's house as much as possible - but not long after I moved here three years ago, the pandemic hit and I just... kind of fell apart, and haven't been the same. I have a hard time getting motivated to go anywhere myself, so I usually go places with Yeyette but she has Victor and her job, you know how it is." Sören sighed. "Depression and anxiety really sucks."
"Are you taking anything for it?"
"...No."
Nicholas exhaled, feeling a twinge of concern, wishing he could alleviate Sören's pain somehow. "Perhaps it's something to consider -"
Sören stiffened, and a moment later he pulled out of Nicholas's arms and sat up, looking away. Nicholas's heart sank, his stomach back in the icy grip of fear, worried that he'd overstepped his bounds and fucked everything up. "I'm sorry," Nicholas said. "I'm not trying to push you -"
"No, I'm sorry." Sören looked down. "It's a touchy subject - when I attempted suicide before my transition, they threw a lot of meds at me with bad side effects - like a mood stabilizer that I didn't fucking need to be on, because I'm not bipolar, I have PTSD. I was on benzos for a bit, too, and those aren't supposed to be prescribed long-term."
"Criss de tabarnak." Nicholas was appalled.
"But maybe if I saw a doctor and asked for just one or two meds, it might help. It's better than staying home so much and being afraid of people." Sören rubbed his face like an annoyed wet cat. "I just hate feeling so weak and..." His voice trailed off.
Nicholas put a hand on his shoulder. "Medication is a tool. Admitting you need that tool shows strength, not weakness. Think of it like testosterone, ouais?"
Sören nodded.
"I could go with you to an appointment for moral support if it would make you feel better," Nicholas said. "I usually have half-days on Wednesdays."
"OK. Thank you." Sören gave him a hug, and Nicholas held him tight, relieved that the conversation hadn't broken everything.
Nicholas quickly added, "I'm not requiring you to go on meds to be with me, I only suggested it because I care for you and I don't want you to suffer."
"I get it." Sören squeezed him, then looked into Nicholas's eyes. "And awwww... I care about you too." Sören bit his lower lip. "I think about you a lot."
"I do too." Nicholas stroked Sören's cheek and kissed his brow. His heart had sank a few moments ago and now it was soaring, elated that Sören didn't think he was creepy for being this attached too soon, and seemed to be into him just as much.
They resumed snuggling - it was nice to just be in the presence of nature for awhile, and Nicholas thought Sören probably needed it even more after his ordeal with the police. But eventually, a different form of nature called.
"Daddy, I gotta pee," Sören said.
Nicholas chuckled. His own bladder then reminded him of its existence. "All right, we can head back." He reluctantly got up from the blanket, then helped Sören up. Once Sören was up and they were standing close together, they looked into each other's eyes again and both men moved in for a kiss. Nicholas was a product of the times when homophobia was normalized and even now in 2023 he felt a prickle of caution, kissing in public, but he got caught up in the moment, kissing Sören back... taking life by the horns.
One horn was definitely waking up, readying itself. All the way home, Nicholas's mind raced with delicious fantasies of how he wanted to take Sören again.
At Nicholas's brownstone, Nicholas let Sören use the bathroom first, then he went, and after he did his business he fed Tacitus. "Would you like some tea?" Nicholas asked.
"Sure." Sören nodded.
Nicholas put on tea, and tried to think about what to do other than race right to the bedroom - as aroused as he was, he didn't want Sören to think it was just sex; it was also companionship. But he didn't entertain often, just sometimes Victor with or without Yeyette. He had a handful of other people he was cordial with, at an arm's length. Having experienced so much transphobia over the last twenty years had made him guarded, not wanting to be disappointed and hurt again. "Do you want to watch a movie? Or perhaps..." Nicholas glanced over at the wooden chess set he kept tucked into one of the bookshelves, along with a few other board games. Do people of Sören's generation even play board games? "We could play chess?"
"Oh, I'd like that," Sören said. "I sometimes play against Victor, he's good. Lots of people in Iceland play, it was the only non-shit memories I have of my uncle."
Nicholas smiled, pleased that the younger man did indeed play chess - and sad for him, that he'd been raised by abusers. Once the tea was ready and served, Nicholas got out the chess set. Sören took time to carefully examine the carved wooden pieces, intricately detailed - the queen, king, and bishop were all people with elaborate hairdos, jewelry and robes, the knight was in full armor and riding a rearing horse, and the rooks were ornate castles with climbing flowering vines. "Wow, this is a work of art."
"I found it antiquing one day back in the nineties. It's one of my most prized possessions."
Sören's eyebrows shot up. "This chess set is older than I am, holy shit."
"I daresay most of the books I own are probably older than you." Nicholas looked around, then back at Sören.
"I like our age difference." Sören bit his lip again.
Nicholas coughed. "So do I." His cheeks burned as he admitted it, then he began to set up the chessboard before he was tempted to indulge Sören's daddy kink right there.
Though Victor was a stronger chess player than Sören, the young Icelander still gave Nicholas a good fight, and the chess game lasted over two hours. Sören managed to take Nicholas's queen and Nicholas still won, and Sören facepalmed and groaned loudly at the checkmate. "Dammit."
Nicholas laughed and reached out to rub Sören's knee. "Good game."
Sören put his hand on Nicholas's hand. "Maybe we could spice it up next time."
"Oh?"
"Like strip chess. Every time we lose a piece we have to take off an item of clothing. The loser has to get naked and service the other."
Nicholas's laughter rang out. "You're incorrigible." But he liked that idea too much.
"Já, takk."
Nicholas laughed harder. "Well... at least I don't feel so bad about thinking obscene thoughts about you all the way here." He glanced off to the side, face on fire again. "All week long."
"Mmmm, me too." Sören got up and took a few paces to where Nicholas was seated, and sat on his lap. Then he turned his face and they kissed.
For a few minutes Nicholas just held Sören on his lap, the two of them kissing, lost in each other. After so many years of loneliness it was nice to give and receive such affection and tenderness. Soon the warmth blazed to a raging fire, the two of them kissing more passionately, insistently. Eventually Sören rose and pulled Nicholas out of his seat. "Come on," Sören said, giggling, dragging him along.
Sören led the way to Nicholas's bedroom and Nicholas followed. But first... Nicholas motioned to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. "Care to shower with me?"
Like his bedroom, Nicholas's bathroom was done in deep blues and greys, with a seaside theme. Sören immediately undressed, his enthusiasm making Nicholas chuckle. As Nicholas got the hot water running and began to strip down, Sören spent a moment looking at the small framed ocean painting on the medicine cabinet, and a white wall shelf decorated with shells and bits of seaglass and driftwood, and then he smiled that smile again and Nicholas's heart skipped a beat. "We should go to the beach sometime," Sören said.
Nicholas nodded. "A bit of a drive - we would need to make a weekend of it, I think, especially if I took you to one of the prettier beaches in Maine - but that would be lovely."
"I'd like that."
Once Nicholas was naked, Sören's eyes were riveted to him. Sören moved closer and ran his hands over Nicholas's chest and arms. "You are so fucking sexy," Sören husked.
Nicholas gave him a kiss, then it was his turn to lead, taking Sören by the hand and pulling him into the shower.
They took turns lathering each other, slow and sensual caresses. When they soaped each other down below, they kissed, fingers stroking in deliberate, teasing circles. After they rinsed off they held each other under the spray and Sören leaned on him again with a heavy sigh, as if the ordeal of earlier had once again caught up with him. Nicholas held him tight and rocked him a little, and the gentleness brought out the fire in Sören, throwing his arms around Nicholas's neck and kissing him like his life depended on it, kissing him breathless.
As reluctant as Nicholas was to get out of the shower, they did, toweled off, and then resumed kissing on the way to the bed. Sören lay back and Nicholas climbed over him, feeling downright feral in his hunger. As much as Nicholas wanted to take his time and savor Sören's beautiful body, kissing and licking and touching him all over for hours, his protective instinct had once again been activated and that brought out something animalistic, wanting to claim his mate. Nicholas spent a moment playing with him again - Sören was already so wet, thick cream dripping down his fingers - and then, kissing Sören's neck, he parted Sören's thighs and maneuvered himself between. As their cunts touched Sören breathed, "Yes, Daddy, yes, yes..." and Nicholas growled before nipping Sören's neck.
There would be other nights for slow, gentle lovemaking. Nicholas gave in to urgent, long-suppressed needs, rocking his hips, clit fucking clit. Sören howled and writhed, panting, nails digging into Nicholas's back. "Fuck me, Daddy," Sören begged.
"That's my good boy." Nicholas continued kissing, nibbling Sören's neck, working his hips, back and forth, up and down, circles, their hard clits rubbing together, each stroke more delicious than the last. "Does my boy like that?"
"Yes, Daddy, more..."
Nicholas groaned and bucked faster, harder. The filthy wet slapping, slurping sound of their cunts almost undid him. Nicholas grit his teeth, trying to hold back, wanting Sören's pleasure first.
They kissed and Sören's hands wandered over his back and ass, until the urge to dominate, to fully possess, came roaring out of Nicholas and he found himself grabbing Sören's wrists, pinning them, biting Sören's neck and growling as Sören called out, "More, Daddy, more... you fuck me so good, Daddy, don't stop..." and then Sören lapsed into Icelandic until he couldn't make words at all, only broken cries.
Nicholas was getting closer and closer, fucking Sören madly, aching to come, making himself wait. At last Sören's eyes widened and his lips parted slightly before he let out a shaky gasp of "Pabbi..."
Nicholas knew Sören was right there. "Come, little one," Nicholas gritted out.
"PABBI! PABBI, DADDY!" Sören shuddered, and Nicholas moaned at the feel of Sören's cunt pulsing against his, gushing. Nicholas's own release claimed him, making a guttural noise as the contractions throbbed and the euphoria washed over him.
They rubbed noses and clung to each other. The look of joy on Sören's face as he rode the waves of ecstasy went right to Nicholas's heart. "Mon précieux garçon," Nicholas heard himself saying, melting in those chocolate brown eyes.
"Hnn?"
"My precious boy."
Sören squeezed him.
They both dozed a little, and Nicholas was roused from his nap by Tacitus meowing - it was past feeding time. Nicholas walked naked to the kitchen and back to tend to his feline companion, and when he came back to the bedroom Sören was sitting up, curls messy, a sleepy grin on his face.
"Would you like a little something to eat?" Nicholas asked.
Sören leered.
Nicholas facepalmed, laughing. "Food."
"Yeah, sure."
Nicholas and Sören got in pajamas and Nicholas made them a light dinner - rice pilaf with a bit of leftover chicken. As Nicholas cooked it started to rain, and Sören sat in the nook by the bay window, hugging his blue stuffed bunny and watching the rain. When Tacitus sat beside him Sören pet the cat.
"I hope you're feeling a bit better from earlier," Nicholas said. "Chamomile tea?"
"OK."
When dinner was served, Nicholas sat on the couch next to Sören, and they watched TV, though Nicholas could tell Sören wasn't really paying attention to the show, seeming elsewhere. "Are you all right?" Nicholas asked.
Sören nodded. "Jæja, it's just... been a day." Sören sighed. "At least this didn't happen next weekend, that's my birthday."
"Oh!" Then Nicholas realized what else was happening next week. "Is your birthday getting swallowed by Thanksgiving?"
"Not this year, but it did when I was still new here and it threw me. It's on the twenty-fifth."
"I empathize. I was born on December twenty-first, so my birthday usually gets shortchanged by Christmas."
"Awwww, that sucks. We should do something special for your birthday."
"We should do something special for your birthday." Nicholas thought about the conversation they'd had last weekend where Sören had expressed interest in going to an art museum. "Would you like to go to New York to see the Metropolitan Museum of Art? I can ask Yeyette and Victor to watch Tacitus for me."
"Oh, thank you. Are you sure it won't be a lot of trouble on such short notice and with the holiday so close by -"
"I'm sure we can get a decent hotel room and so forth." Nicholas kissed Sören's cheek. "I'm already looking forward to it."
"Me too."
As Nicholas rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, Sören resumed watching the rain out the window. When the dishwasher started, Sören said, "So now I'm gonna be a pain in the ass. Do you think we could go for a little walk out in the rain, so I can... keep shaking off the bullshit from earlier?"
"I suppose, though as you know, we are in our pajamas and it seems wasteful to put on fresh clothes just for this -"
"We could put outerwear on over it. I don't think anyone out and about is going to care that we're not properly dressed."
The Nicholas Decaux of five years ago, if not five weeks ago, would have been aghast at the possibility of any of his neighbors seeing him in pajamas, but the Nicholas Decaux of today was ready to throw such caution to the wind, be spontaneous, and live a little. After they put their outerwear and boots on and Nicholas grabbed an umbrella, they headed outside. It was a short walk to a local park, and though it was cold and pouring rain, it was still peaceful to walk through the park in the rainy night with the streetlamps making golden mist. Sören leaned on him again and Nicholas kept an arm around him, soaking up the moment of close coziness like a sponge.
As strange as it was to be walking about in pajamas in the rain, something about Sören's request made the heart grow even fonder. Nicholas realized he was already a little in love with Sören, whether it was too soon or not. This wasn't just sex. It was like coming home to a hearth fire, with these little moments of quiet joy.
That fire blazed between them once more when they paused to kiss in the rain, and when they were back at the brownstone they wasted no time - not merely taking off their outerwear and boots but their pajamas too. "I want you now," Sören growled, pushing Nicholas onto the living room floor right in front of the foyer, and Nicholas's body readied itself in record time, rolling atop Sören, kissing him deeply as he started to fuck.
Even in the heat of their frenzied, primal rutting, it was still making love. Driving away the darkness - the terror of what could have been, with Justin; the terror of what Nicholas knew had been, with Sören's uncle Einar - with each thrust, their cunts mashed together, one flesh, only wet silken pleasure in those moments, stopping the world and joining together body, mind and soul.
Sören came quickly with a howling sob and Nicholas was right behind, making a strangled noise as he climaxed. The room spun and rocked and it felt like bells and lights were going off in his head; Nicholas felt himself smiling so hard his face hurt. "Thank you," Nicholas heard himself whispering into Sören's neck, like a mantra, a prayer. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you..." Thank you for giving me life. Nicholas had a reasonably full life before Sören came along, but there was something more, here. He recalled Whitman's words: I sing the body electric. He understood that now.
When they were able to move again, they put their pajamas back on, brushed their teeth, and Nicholas tucked Sören in for bed, putting Sören's bunny in his arms. Once Nicholas got in beside him and held him, he just watched Sören sleep for awhile in the glow of the nightlight. Feeling a fierce, tight ache in his chest, wondering what it would be like to hold Sören like this every night. To keep him safe from the Justins and Einars of the world.
To be his daddy.
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