Boston, Massachusetts
August 2019
It was the three-year anniversary of Sören Sigurðsson's top surgery and he was planning on having a little "unbirthday" celebration and cooking a special dinner for himself and his roommate, Anthony. When Sören came back from riding his adult trike to the supermarket, he found a gift-wrapped package on the kitchen counter - blue, white and pink wrapping paper, Trans Pride colors - with a sparkly rainbow bow and a tag that said: Happy Transiversary!
Anthony was a cis guy, but a strong ally - Anthony was gay himself, and worked as a civil rights lawyer for the ACLU; he'd moved to the States from London as a teenager after his mother married an American, and had come of age in the 90s when gay-bashing was the norm and slurs were still considered acceptable at school and the workplace. Anthony had been supportive of Sören since they'd first met nine months ago, when Sören had answered his Craigslist ad looking for a roommate.
And he'd been expecting Anthony to share in a special dinner, but getting a gift was unexpected and after he put the groceries away, Sören grinned so hard his face hurt as he took it off the counter and carried it down to his room, to wait for Anthony to get home.
Sören's tuxedo cat, Snúður, and Anthony's grey tabby cat Seamus followed after him, tails in the air, meowing and chirping that one of their people was home. Sören looked at the time - Anthony was meeting with a client and would be home in about twenty minutes... and he was late for a chat with Nicholas, who wanted to virtually visit with him this evening.
Nicholas Decaux wasn't just Sören's employer, but his other best friend. They'd met in Iceland in 2017, when Nicholas had been visiting Reykjavik, and Nicholas had been impressed enough with Sören's art to offer him a job at his gallery in Boston. Sören moved out to Massachusetts and began working there as a curator, and exhibited a few of his paintings at any given time, which had made decent sales. Though Nicholas was in his fifties and he was reserved and a bit formal, a warm working relationship became a close friendship, with the two bonding over art and other shared interests and values, and being from outside the US originally - Nicholas was from Québec. And Sören liked bantering with the serious old man, making Nicholas smile and laugh despite himself.
Truth be told, Sören was in love with Nicholas. And he was in love with Anthony, too. Not only were most people not poly and willing to share, which meant he'd probably have to choose, but he didn't think his feelings would be returned. There was an age gap - Sören was only in his twenties, and thought they might consider that too young. Most of all, even though both men were gay, Sören's experience with cis gay men had been that many of them, if not most, were not willing to date trans men. So Sören kept his feelings to himself, not wanting to ruin their friendship by saying anything about it...
...and lately he'd taken it into his head that Nicholas and Anthony should meet each other. He wanted his two best friends to be happy, and he thought they would be happy together... and he would be happy for them, even watching wistfully from afar.
Sören quickly booted up his laptop and logged into the chat app they used, feeling self-conscious about his messy curls and being a little sweaty after the trike ride, but more than that he felt guilty about being late. To his relief, Nicholas was still there waiting, and the silver-bearded man had a small smile for him that would have been a grin on anyone else.
"Sorry," Sören said. "I was at the store and it was busier than I thought it would be -"
Nicholas waved his hand. "As you know, these things happen, it's all right. I was a little worried about your safety, but I didn't think you would stand me up."
"No, I wouldn't." Sören bit his lower lip and tried not to have butterflies as he looked into those dark eyes, admired the bushy salt-and-pepper brows, high cheekbones and patrician nose, handsome in a severe way. Relaxing at home, Nicholas was wearing a heather blue T-shirt and Sören couldn't help noticing the grey chest hair poking out through the shirt's neck... the grey fur on his arms. Ooh, Pabbi. Sören wanted to lick him all over.
His face burned. Stop that.
"Anyway..." Sören cleared his throat. "I'm fine. How are you doing? Enjoying your day off?" Nicholas only came to the gallery in-person four out of seven days a week.
"Indeed, though it is a bit warm for my liking today. It makes me glad August is almost over."
You could take your shirt off. Sören's cheeks burned even hotter, not wanting that delicious mental image. "It's pretty toasty out, jæja. Makes me wish I was back in Iceland for a week, or going to the beach for a weekend. What about you? Any weekend plans?" It was Thursday.
"Well actually, that was what I wanted to mention to you this evening," Nicholas said. "As you know, I live in Concord, and if you'd like to see Walden Pond for the three-year anniversary of your surgery, I would be happy to let you spend the weekend here, you might find it inspiring for your art. I have two spare bedrooms."
Sören felt his mouth open and he just stared at the screen like that until he clapped a hand over his mouth and closed it. He'd never been to Nicholas's home in the two years they'd been friends - they'd gotten together for coffee in Boston plenty of times, or visited museums or gone shopping. To be invited to spend an entire weekend at his home felt like an honor.
Of course, in one of the guest bedrooms. Sören tried not to frown, and hated himself for being disappointed. He's cis, he's technically your boss, of course he's not inviting you to sleep with him. "That's... wow. Holy shit. Really?" Walden Pond would definitely be inspiring, of course that would be if he wasn't staring at Nicholas all weekend. "You're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble -"
"I wouldn't offer if it was. You are welcome here, if you'd like to see Walden Pond. I'll even pick you up, if you prefer."
Sören didn't drive - he got around by bike or public transit, unless Anthony took him somewhere, and Nicholas drove when they spent time together - and taking the bus to Concord sounded like a pain in the ass. "That would be best, yes."
Then suddenly there was a light knock on the door jamb. "I saw you got my package - oh, shit, sorry, I didn't know you were in chat." Anthony stepped away from the door.
Sören didn't hear him come in. Once again he felt himself flush - Anthony was boyishly handsome, with short black hair showing its first threads of silver, and green eyes, and he hadn't fully changed out of his suit so he was still in charcoal grey trousers and a white button-down shirt that was halfway unbuttoned, showing dark chest hair. Sören could smell his cologne, and wanted to move in closer and huff it. He wanted to do a lot of things, all of them filthy. Sören tried to find words. "You're a little early, is everything OK?"
Anthony shrugged. "Client rescheduled, I went home. I had a headache so I took a nap. I came out for some water..."
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't." Anthony glanced at the screen again where Nicholas was politely waiting and he raised a hand. "Oh, hello... Nicholas, right?" Anthony's cheeks turned pink. Likely, Anthony was feeling nervous about the interruption - or he was, more likely, noticing Nicholas. Sören and Anthony had mutually appreciated "silver daddies" on TV, and here was one now. Sören held back a smirk.
"Hello there. You're Anthony? I've heard so much about you," Nicholas said. "Good things," he quickly added.
"Yeah, I've heard good things about you too." Anthony glanced at Sören, then at Nicholas. "Sorry I'm interrupting. I'll see myself out -"
"Hold on," Nicholas said. "Sören, you found a package? Have you opened it yet?"
"Well, no," Sören said. "I just got in..."
"I have a cake in the fridge," Anthony said.
Sören didn't even notice it when he was putting away groceries, but now he remembered seeing a foil-wrapped something on the top shelf and assuming it was leftovers.
"If you get the cake, Anthony, we can hold a little party right here and now," Nicholas said.
"Oh... OK." Anthony ran off and the cats followed, meowing for food all the way. There was a long silence as Sören and Nicholas stared at each other, and then Anthony came back in with the cake, topped with three candles.
Anthony began to sing in his baritone, like Rick Astley:
Happy unbirthday to you
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose. "That is not a word."
Anthony smirked. "According to Lewis Carroll, you're wrong."
Nicholas exhaled, then he waved his hand. "Carry on."
Nicholas's rich bass joined in, singing along with Anthony:
Happy unbirthday to you
Happy unbirthday to you
Happy unbirthday, dear Sören
Happy unbirthday to you
Sören clapped his hands, delighted - not the least of which that Anthony had gotten Nicholas to use the word "unbirthday".
"Such atrocious grammar for a meaningful event," Nicholas said. "No dignity."
"It's called no diggity," Sören said, not able to resist ribbing him. Anthony laughed.
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose, but his eyes crinkled at the corner. "As you know, that's not -"
"Jæja, that's three 'as you knows'," Sören said; that still wasn't as bad as some conversations, where Nicholas could do eight or nine of them. Sören found it endearing rather than annoying... which was part of the problem.
"I'll cut the cake," Anthony said. "Though I feel a bit rude with Nicholas not being here to have cake with us..."
"I could save a piece and bring it over this weekend," Sören said. At Anthony's confused look, Sören explained, "He lives in Concord and he invited me to see Walden Pond."
"I... see."
Sören found that little pause in Anthony's reply to be strange. They came and went as they pleased, Anthony had occasionally spent the night at a lover's house, though not in months, Anthony was in a dry spell.
Anthony seemed to notice Sören picked up the pause, and Anthony cleared his throat and went on, "I'd been hoping to take you to Six Flags or something this weekend, but... it's OK. You should see Waldenbooks. I mean, Walden Pond. I bet you'll make some really gorgeous art after the trip."
"Waldenbooks?" Sören was confused.
"I had a brain fart. Old bookstore chain, before Borders bought it out, then Barnes and Noble bought that out..." Anthony looked at the gift-wrapped package, then at Sören. "Well, now I feel like what I got you is kind of stupid -"
"I'm sure it's not," Sören said.
"Indeed, I would like to see the present," Nicholas said. "A gift from the heart cannot be called stupid."
"Let me make a note of that so I can buy you an ugly sweater for Christmas," Sören teased.
Nicholas scowled. "You shan't."
Anthony's eyebrows shot up and then he snickered. Shan't, he mouthed at Sören. Sören cracked a grin - he had told Anthony that Nicholas was a bit old-fashioned, progressive in his values but a relic from a bygone era in his mannerisms, but there was that and there was witnessing Nicholas using words like "shan't".
Anthony did such a nice job with wrapping the present that Sören felt a bit guilty about tearing into it. When the paper came off, Sören saw a small, antique rosewood keepsake box. The lid had a Celtic knotwork border and in the center was a carved phoenix, like the two phoenixes Sören had inked on his back - one of fire, one of water. Sören's eyes teared up a little at the symbolism, giving him a phoenix on the three-year anniversary of his gender confirmation surgery.
"It's beautiful," Sören said.
Anthony smirked. "Go on, open it."
Just the box itself would have been a lovely gift - it looked like it cost at least a couple hundred dollars - and then Sören opened the box and gasped.
"I remember you told me your ex-roommate Justin stole your gemstone collection so I wanted to get you a head start on replacing it," Anthony said.
Justin Roberts was the reason why Sören was living with Anthony now. Justin had bullied Sören for being trans, and stealing his mineral specimens and selling them was not even the worst thing Justin had done. Losing that collection - including irreplaceable stones from Iceland - had made Sören reluctant to start rebuilding; every time he looked at gemstones online it made him remember the bitter sting of Justin's abuse.
But here and now, the box on his lap held eight beautiful, shiny specimens. A nugget of golden Baltic amber. A chunk of pale pink rose quartz. A moonstone with brilliant blue flash. A silky blue kyanite. Spectral hematite, shimmering like a night sky full of stars. A bloodstone, deep green with flecks of sanguine red. A high quality, rich purple amethyst. And the pièce de résistance...
"Australian boulder opal." A large piece, roughly the size of his thumb, with lots of color, like holding an aurora borealis in his hand. Sören felt the tears start to brim. "Anthony, this must have cost a fortune -"
Anthony dismissively waved his hand and gave Sören a quick hug. "You're worth it."
"That was very thoughtful of you," Nicholas said softly. "I have thought about buying Sören some minerals myself, after hearing about that awful Justin, but I didn't know if it would be too soon -"
"You guys are spoiling me." Sören took a few deep breaths and tried to pull himself together, not wanting to start bawling and have to taste his cake with a runny nose. "Really."
"You're a good friend to Sören," Nicholas said. "I already knew from the way Sören talks about you, but this is proof."
"Sören is very special to me," Anthony said. His eyes briefly met Sören's before he looked away.
"Well... on that note... Anthony, would you like to come along? I have two guest bedrooms, and you can bring your cats."
Sören and Anthony exchanged glances, and Sören began nodding vehemently. This was a prime opportunity for Anthony and Nicholas to get to know each other, and maybe sparks would fly.
"All right," Anthony said with a small smile. "I'd like that."
Nicholas smiled back. "Splendid. Would you like to arrive tomorrow evening, to get a head start on the Labor Day weekend?"
"Sounds like a plan," Anthony said.
Sören clapped his hands excitedly. "Yay!"
Nicholas nodded. "As you know, Anthony, Sören isn't in contact with what's left of his biological family, so I think having his family of choice around to celebrate an important occasion is... therapeutic."
"I agree." Anthony patted Sören.
Family. Great, Nicholas thinks of me as a son or something. Sören tried not to feel the sting of rejection - after all, he'd assumed for some time now his feelings were fruitless. Even so, despite the joy of knowing how dear he was to the two most important humans in his life, Sören still felt a twinge of sadness, that Nicholas thought of him as family, rather than a love interest.
Fuck.
That still didn't stop Sören from his usual pre-bed routine, hours later, hand down his pajama pants, pawing himself furiously as his mind raced with feverish fantasies of sucking Nicholas, sucking Anthony, one of them taking him from behind as he sucked the other... Anthony sucking Sören's cock as Nicholas's cock plunged in and out of Sören's wet, sloppy hole... riding Anthony's cock as Nicholas fucked Anthony, his dick still wet from Sören's juices...
Sören came with a little cry. He usually kept it down, not wanting to make things awkward, but he came hard enough from the debauched mental images that the noise escaped him.
A few minutes later Anthony knocked on his door. "Sören, you OK? Bad dream?"
"Jæja, I'm OK, Anthony, thanks for checking."
"If you're sure. Let me know if you need anything."
Just your dick in my mouth. Sören kept that thought to himself and rolled over. Just before he could fall asleep, Seamus hopped up on the bed with a "Prrp?" and began kneading him, purring hard.
"I hope you won't be too mad tomorrow when we take you in the car," Sören said to the cat as he gave him skritches, remembering the way Seamus yelled on the way to and from vet appointments. "I'm sorry you have to go for a ride."
Then Sören's mind went back in the gutter, thinking of Anthony riding Nicholas's cock. Maybe they might hit it off so well they'd fuck that weekend. Maybe they'd at least let me watch.
Sören rolled his eyes with a deep, gusty sigh and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. For what was supposed to be a celebration of his life, Sören felt like he was already starting to mourn.
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