By Sunday night, Nicholas was most of the way recovered from his bout with the flu, and took Sören back to his apartment. Sören was feeling a bit ill himself by then, so they decided to skip midweek visits to give them both a chance to recuperate, and Nicholas would be back to pick Sören up on Thursday for another long weekend.
Sören had been extremely worried about Nicholas - his fever had been alarmingly high, and Nicholas seemed delirious during the worst of it, calling out in a language Sören didn't understand but was sure wasn't French - and Sören had heard that the flu tended to be worse in the middle-aged and elderly. Sören was relieved Nicholas had pulled through without needing to go to the emergency room, but then, Sören knew Nicholas took care of himself; Sören often mused to himself that Nicholas was probably in better shape at fifty-six than he was at twenty-six, between Sören's asthma and long COVID.
The next few days were a blur, as Sören's body wrestled with the flu he'd caught from Nicholas, fever and chills, aches and bone-deep fatigue. Through the fog Sören managed to get his assignments done for work, but it sapped his brainpower enough to have energy for little else, zoning out on his futon half-watching TV. He'd been watching Nicholas so closely while taking care of him that, although Sören otherwise struggled with reading people, he had noticed some tension as Nicholas dropped him off on Sunday evening and though logically Sören told himself it was probably lingering pain and exhaustion, Sören's mind kept coming back to it, wondering if he'd said or done something wrong.
Finally Thursday evening came, with light snow. Nicholas still seemed tense and distant on the way to his brownstone, enough that Sören pushed past his anxiety to address it. "Are you OK?" Sören asked as they got out of the car and headed up to the front door. "Is something the matter?"
Nicholas's shoulders heaved with a deep sigh, and once they were inside the foyer and had taken off their shoes, Nicholas said, "We need to talk."
That was never good. Each step over to the couch felt like lead sinking into quicksand. By the time Sören got to the couch his heart was pounding, and this was with the anxiety medication doing its job - Sören didn't want to know how he'd feel if he wasn't medicated.
Nicholas made tea, and then sat in the armchair instead of next to Sören on the couch. After a long moment, Nicholas said, "I think this isn't going to work out."
"Why?" Sören swallowed hard and blinked back tears, not wanting to fall apart... not just yet. "What did I do?"
"It's not anything you did, dear heart." Nicholas's own eyes were too bright. "I... I think I'm too old for you."
Sören sank down and instinctively hugged his stomach. "Am I being annoying? Do I come off like a stupid kid -"
"Again, this isn't anything your fault. This is me trying to look out for you."
"Then I'm going to need you to explain some more." Sören met his eyes, even though it hurt and Sören felt his jaw trembling, felt the tears threatening to break.
Nicholas sighed again and gave a small nod. "As you know, the flu hit me particularly hard this time around."
Sören nodded. "Jæja, it kicked my ass too. I think it's a particularly nasty strain this year."
"What I mean is that... I assume you were able to get through it more or less on your own. Meanwhile, my own bout was rather debilitating, and though I am grateful that you were here to take care of me, I fear that as time goes on, you may have to do things like that more often. I don't want you to feel like you're wasting your life playing nursemaid to an old man -"
"I didn't and I don't." Sören sat up, finally realizing what Nicholas was trying to do, his brain jolting out of the lingering post-viral haze and scrambling for words. "Look. If you think that breaking up with me is in my best interests, it's not. I love you. I know I call you Daddy, but I don't need you to make my decisions for me, especially not you pulling some noble martyrdom bullshit thinking you're sparing me from pain and suffering by... breaking my fucking heart?"
Nicholas opened his mouth as if to speak and Sören put up a hand. "Me talk, you listen," Sören scolded. Nicholas's lips quirked as if this amused him and he sat back and folded his hands.
Sören went on. "Yes, you're older, and maybe you might run into more health problems as you keep aging. You know what? I'm not in the greatest health either at my age, I haven't been right since the first time I had COVID. My parents weren't even thirty when they died, so you don't need to fucking talk to me about fucking mortality, I am very familiar with it. And I know this flu spooked you - it scared me too - but honestly, you're in impressive condition for someone your age. I would be willing to bet money that when you're seventy you'll still be active and putting younger guys to shame, OK? But if not... I would rather be with you, even if we only get a few good years, than try to find someone closer to my age in theoretical better health. It's you that I love, Nicholas. It's you I want to be with, in sickness and in health, I will take what I can get so long as it's you. Please, don't do this. Don't push me away because you think you're going to be a burden on me. Especially if you care about your health, because nothing kills faster than loneliness. People need people." Their eyes met again, and locked. "And I need my Daddy."
Silent tears spilled down Nicholas's cheeks, and that broke Sören, sobbing. Nicholas immediately got up and went to him, and when Nicholas took Sören in his arms, Nicholas began weeping too, which made Sören cry harder. They held each other, crying together, and at last Nicholas's arms tightened around him and he tousled Sören's curls and Sören heard himself babbling "Don't go. Don't push me away. Please, please don't leave me -"
"I shan't." Nicholas took Sören's chin in his hand and tilted his face up. He proceeded to kiss Sören's tears, then wiped them away, smiling through his own tears. "You've convinced me. To be honest, I didn't need that much convincing. I just..." Nicholas exhaled and looked down. "I don't want you to end up resenting me and -"
Sören silenced him with a kiss. "We have a good thing going. It's not like people my age are invincible. Nothing is guaranteed. We just need to... take life as it comes and not borrow trouble, OK?" Then Sören chuckled, and mused aloud, "Wow, listen to me telling someone else not to worry. I think the meds are helping."
Nicholas kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "There is something guaranteed. My love for you." Nicholas held him closer and rocked him a little. "I'm sorry that I even entertained the idea of -"
Sören put a finger to his lips. "I get it. I'm not mad. I just don't want you to freak out over one possible future scenario and try to make decisions for me based on that."
For a few moments they held each other in silence, until Tacitus hopped up on the couch beside them with an inquisitive chirp and they gave him pettings and skritches, rewarded by a deep rumbly purr. As Sören felt the tension finally roll out of his body, Nicholas said, "There is something regarding the future that I meant to address with you, before all of... this... happened."
Sören looked up and waited.
Nicholas cleared his throat. "Would you like to move in with me? I understand if you think it's a bit soon, we could wait -"
Sören kissed him again, this time harder, until they were breathless and Sören's libido blazed like wildfire. Then Sören nodded vehemently, crying again, this time happy tears. "Yes."
"Good."
"On one condition."
Nicholas narrowed his eyes.
Sören smirked. "Fuck me. It's been too long."
Nicholas threw his head back and his laughter rang out, joyful music to Sören's ears.
They wasted no time getting undressed and fell on each other with feverish, hungry kisses, hands roaming over each other's bodies. Nicholas tumbled back onto the bed, pulling Sören down with him, and for a moment they looked into each other's eyes and Nicholas touched Sören's cheek with a tender smile; Sören leaned into his touch, melting, before kissing him even more passionately.
Sören had packed the pump, and hurried over to fetch it, giggling. He turned around to give Nicholas a sassy butt wiggle, who responded by slapping his ass - Sören's cunt throbbed, and he pounced on Nicholas with a growl. Nicholas's hands slid down to cup Sören's ass before smacking both cheeks, and they kissed again and again.
They took turns pumping each other, admiring the increase in bottom growth. After some more kissing, playing with each other, they dove between each other's legs. Sören lost himself in worshiping Nicholas's big clit, so much like a cock, as his own was honored. The world seemed to just fade away and all that existed was their bodies, their pleasure, their lust for each other, making up for days of lost time as they devoured each other, starving and greedy for sucking and being sucked. There was almost nothing better. Nicholas smelled and tasted delicious and Sören's own juices were almost pouring as Nicholas's lips and tongue worked their filthy sweet magic. At last Sören climaxed, squirting a little, which set off Nicholas's own release - feeling the clit pulsing in his mouth made Sören throb all the stronger.
They came up to kiss, licking their tongues together, tasting their combined essence. They were both still hard from the pump, and wet enough from their first round that it was perfect for the fuck Sören craved. Sören lay back, arched and spread to him, and Nicholas climbed over him with heat in his eyes that threatened to make Sören come untouched, dripping for him again.
They began to work their hips, clits rubbing, cunt lips kissing. It wasn't long before they found that perfect rhythm, clit teasing clit, their flowing juices like wet silk. Sören clung to Nicholas, kissing him madly, begging for more between kisses in English and Icelandic, until he couldn't make words at all, only high-pitched noises as they rutted in primal need. Hearing Nicholas growl and pant, giving into his animal side, was just as luscious as the rubbing, and whenever Sören's nails dug into him Nicholas rocked his hips harder, until the bed was slamming against the wall and the wet suctioning, slurping, smacking sound of cunt fucking cunt was louder than Sören's broken cries. Sören never wanted it to stop, trying to hold back and back and back to make the pleasure last, to go deeper into sensation until he felt like he could almost die of the intensity.
At last they came together, clinging to each other and kissing fiercely as cunt pulsed against cunt, juices gushing. Sören wept happy tears as he shattered, harder when Nicholas told him, "This is the first night of the rest of our lives together."
"I love you." Sören's arms tightened around him. He heard himself babbling, "I have my Daddy. I have a home. Ég á pabba minn, ég á mitt heimili..."
"Yes, little one." Nicholas rained kisses over his face. "Daddy's got you. Daddy's taking care of you now, the way you deserve."
"Just remember..." Sören booped his nose. "Sometimes you gotta let me take care of you too, when you need it." Sören took Nicholas's hand and kissed it. "I need it, too." He thought of Nicholas during his illness, and how much worse it probably would have been if he hadn't been there. The idea of Nicholas pushing him away to go through more of that alone... "I love you, and I want to be your good, helpful boy."
"Oh, love." Nicholas nuzzled him. "Just... please, if it gets to be too much -"
"I'll let you know, and we'll see what we can do about finding someone to help, if..." Sören's voice trailed off, not wanting to think about that right now, not wanting the darkness to steal away his light. "Anyway, I think you're worrying too much and you have lots of good years ahead of you."
"I hope so." Nicholas smiled. "You make me feel young again." Nicholas chuckled. "And... horny."
Sören grinned. "Oh, do you want to go again?"
Nicholas nodded, turning pink.
Sören rolled Nicholas onto his back, straddled him, and took the hard clit-cock inside him, like a finger. He began to ride, and after a few minutes Nicholas grabbed his hips and made him work for it, bucking hard, making Sören grab onto him for dear life. Showing him how strong and powerful he still was, and likely would be for many, many years to come.
And come. And come.
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