The past week had been agony. Anthony hadn't contacted Sören, much as he wanted to. They had come dangerously close to having sex, and though Anthony's rebuff was based in conscience due to the ethical concerns with Sören being a contestant on his show, which was bad enough on its own, even worse in the era of #metoo - Anthony didn't want the other contestants to feel unsafe or triggered by him - Anthony knew Sören was feeling the sting of the rejection and he wanted to give Sören his space.
And he needed his own space and time to think. Because try as he might, he couldn't get Sören off his mind. He'd masturbated an embarrassing amount of times to fantasies of Sören since that night, after tasting those luscious lips, feeling Sören's hands on him... seeing Sören with his shirt off, those sexy pierced nipples. Knowing Sören had a Prince Albert made Anthony even hotter for him. He hadn't been this much in lust with someone since Mark, and that lust was fueled all the stronger by how much he genuinely liked Sören. He admired Sören's ability to find beauty in the world and make beautiful things after what he'd gone through, that fierce, fiery determination in him. Anthony could see why Sören's late husband called him a phoenix, it was a glorious fire, one that Anthony wanted to immolate him. He was at a crossroads with a very tough decision ahead of him, because there was no way he could get involved with Sören while he was still a contestant, running the risk of the paparazzi finding out, and the ensuing shitshow.
So bad was Anthony's want that before filming, he masturbated in the bathroom of his trailer, giddy over seeing Sören again very soon. And as he made his way to the set, his face burned at what he had done, ashamed of how out of control his feelings were, how obsessed he felt. This was bad, and a week of space to try to think with a clear head hadn't helped. It had made things worse.
Today's theme was star or space-inspired cakes for the Royal Astronomical Society. For once, Anthony didn't rib Sören as he worked, even though Clive had let him know the viewers liked that, it was good for ratings. Anthony didn't give a fuck about ratings today. He couldn't look at Sören without his cheeks on fire, his stomach full of butterflies like a lovesick teenager. He couldn't string two words together in Sören's presence. He could barely string two thoughts together that didn't involve Sören underneath him, moaning with pleasure.
Usually for the first two thirds of the series there were a few very clear star-quality cakes, and the rest were merely nice or decent, until the end when it became harder to choose a winner. They were down to ten contestants and all the cakes today were good, though some were more impressive than others.
A twentysomething athletic, tanned, blonde Australian woman named Kylie had made a cake with the sun surrounded by the zodiac on top, and the sides were nebulas, and the inside of the cake was a rainbow galaxy and that was probably the least impressive of the group, but still brilliant.
A very tall British woman in her early forties with a dark bob haircut, named Victoria, had made a tier cake topped with a golden candy sun and moon, and golden candy stars on curly wires sticking out of a glossy navy blue and a velvety cerulean, a golden swirly border between the shades of blue, the blue spangled by golden frosting stars.
Sam, a non-binary British person with short, spiky platinum hair and nerdy glasses, had made a cake for the sun sign of Scorpio - which they were currently in - a two-tiered cake with a scorpion embossed on top, and a flower-and-shell-like design embossed going round the bottom, over soft blue fading to indigo and purple, fading to raspberry and tangerine, like a sunset or a nebula, speckled with tiny stars.
Helen, a fiftysomething woman who reminded Anthony of a plump Martha Stewart, had taken a more artsy approach, a cluster of different-color planets on top of a cylindrical cake, with more planets stuck in the sides, and randomly scattered along the bottom. The cake was frosted in a mix of indigo, teal and black with white, gold and bronze spatters, and little yellow candy stars. It was an explosion of color, and it was fun.
The next two cakes were very much alike, but each were lovely.
Thierry, a ginger-haired Frenchman in his twenties, had made a two-tier cake with the Milky Way in a starry sky, over a night-dark evergreen forest.
Rocco, an easygoing thirtysomething blond Italian, had made a three-tier cake with the aurora borealis in waves of cyan, magenta and green, over a similar but more sparse forest.
Vivian's cake was elegant as usual, deep blue space with tiny stars, and the solar system going from the top, coiling around the side of the cake.
Josiah had made a loaf cake, the outside was swirls of purple and black with edible silver glitter, and when the loaf was cut, there were colored planets against the dark chocolate. The astronomers were particularly impressed with how he'd gotten the planets inside the cake.
Sören had made "Starry Night" by Van Gogh, in the form of a three-tier cake.
As impressive as Sören's cake was, it also didn't quite fit in with the theme compared to the others, and it became clear to Anthony what he had to do.
"I'm sorry, Sören, but you're done," Anthony said, for once not having snarky words for the parting contestant. He felt like he was ripping his own heart out.
Sören stood there and blinked, then his mouth opened. The other contestants stared in shock.
Sören turned and walked away, not looking back, not saying a word.
It was customary that when a contestant was eliminated, they didn't leave the set right away, as reporters usually wanted to talk to them. Anthony was very sure Sören wasn't going to give an interview, so he had to act fast. The elimination was close enough to the wrap of filming that the moment it was done, Anthony fired off a text to Sören.
Meet me around the back. I still have your paintings.
When Sören didn't reply right away, Anthony's heart sank - he knew Sören would be upset with him, though he had his logic for doing this and he hoped once Sören understood that, Sören would forgive him - but he worried that Sören had found this unforgivable. He argued with himself internally, not to panic, since he did in fact still have Sören's paintings at his house and he didn't think Sören would let Anthony just have them, even if his pride was wounded and facing him so soon was rubbing salt in the wound.
A few minutes later Sören replied with Catch me outside.
Sören was scowling at the back exit, and any other time Anthony would have found that look sexy, but now it just crushed him some more, knowing he'd hurt Sören. Sören got in the car without saying anything and then immediately looked out the window and kept staring out the window, not even looking at Anthony on the entire drive to Kingston.
Sören softened only slightly when Seamus and Solly walked into the foyer to greet him. Anthony took off his outerwear and his chef overcoat and his shoes, revealing an ancient Nirvana T-shirt - which made Sören look directly at him for the first time since the car ride - and then Sören looked away again.
"I'm going to get dinner started," Anthony said, "and then we can talk."
"I came for my paintings," Sören said in a flat tone of voice, still not looking at him as he skritched the cats.
"Yes. Well, let me feed you first, and then we can talk, and then you can have your paintings, all right?"
Anthony surveyed the contents of his fridge - he'd been planning meals for today's encounter with Sören, and all those plans went out the window now in the face of Sören's obvious upset. Anthony decided to make Sören something that Elaine used to make him as comfort food - quiche with cheese, ham, peppers, and potato. It was simple compared to what he put together at the restaurant, but it was secretly Anthony's favorite recipe because it had been his mother's and it reminded him of her every time he made it. And now he was making it for the man he'd fallen in love with, the man whose dreams he'd just shattered... because he was selfishly in love and couldn't let it go. It felt like cold comfort, but it was what Anthony had to give.
Anthony washed his hands and got out the flour and egg and milk and shredded cheese, to start with; the rest of the filling would be later. As he got to work, stirring ingredients in a bowl, Sören stood a few feet away, rather than sitting, his arms folded, that sexy death glare again.
Finally Sören cleared his throat.
Anthony paused and put a hand on his hip, looking Sören up and down in his black sweatshirt and black cargo pants. He'd seen Sören in all black before, it was his "uniform", but it felt different today, like mourning. "Yes?"
"That talk."
"Can we eat first?"
"You expect me to just sit in here watching you cook while you take your sweet time putting off the discussion?"
Anthony exhaled. He tried to lighten the mood somewhat. "And here I thought you liked to watch." Anthony wiggled his eyebrows up and down, hoping Sören caught the obvious double entendre.
Sören made a noise of exasperation. "What I'd like, is to know what the fuck you were thinking, eliminating me today."
Anthony pursed his lips. "Well, it's what I told you. Your cake wasn't like the others."
"I made. A bloody. Fucking. Van Gogh. Cake. It took me fucking hours to make a replica of 'Starry Night' in cake form and you fucking eliminated me? You're going to stand there and tell me to my face that zodiac cake was better than mine?"
"It was a beautiful cake," Anthony said. "But I expected everyone to come up with original designs -"
"I don't know, I would think it's pretty creative to attempt to replicate Van Gogh on a cake? And you're seriously going to say 'I expected everyone to come up with original designs' when two of those cakes were almost identical and neither of them got eliminated?" Sören sneered. "You think random shiny balls and splatter is more correctly star-themed than what I made -"
"OK, Sparky. Sparky." Anthony put up his hands. He sighed deeply, and braced himself for getting to the heart of the matter. "The truth is, I eliminated you because of what happened last week and... the ethics surrounding where this is going."
Sören took a moment before he responded. His expression softened somewhat, and Anthony felt the stirring of relief, hoping Sören would forgive him - and then Sören went right back to glaring, his face even more murderous than before.
"Where this is going, huh."
"Indeed."
Sören put his hands on his hips. "Jæja."
"Yup."
Sören shook his head and snarled. "You... you just think you got it like that."
Anthony smirked. "I know I got it like that."
Sören hissed, then looked down, scratching his head, muttering to himself in Icelandic, then he looked up. "You assume that now there's not a conflict of interest, I'm just going to spread for you?"
"Less like assume and more like hoping." Anthony bit his lower lip, knowing that was the worst come-on line in the world, but it was what he had to work with.
Sören's eyebrows shot up, and for the briefest instant he looked almost amused, and then the scowl returned.
Anthony folded his arms. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me, and I'll leave you alone. But I think we both know what's up -"
"You fucking arrogant prick."
Anthony's jaw dropped. Of all the responses he was expecting, that threw him. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me."
"I..." Anthony couldn't even make words.
"You eliminated me, you know how fucking hard I worked on that cake, and you eliminated me instead of Splatter Balls Cake or the zodiac. I knew there was a non-zero chance I would be eliminated before the end, but I expected to make it to the final five if not the final three, at least, where if I didn't win and get hired in your kitchen I'd get an offer from somewhere. Now, I'll be lucky to find work at a bloody McDonald's, who the fuck knows when the cruise ship will be sailing again. I have just enough money to put a deposit on a flat and hope I'll get a fucking job that pays enough to make rent when it's due, within the next few weeks, I was hoping to have more money saved than this so I had a safety net, but no. You took my chance at climbing out of the abyss away from me, and you fucking brought me here under pretext of giving me back my paintings, to try to seduce me with dinner and put out for you? You entitled, fucking asshole! Does #metoo mean anything to you, you son of a bitch?"
"I've never been like this with any other contestant. Just you." Anthony swallowed hard, seeing that fire in Sören's eyes. "And I'll thank you not to call my mum a bitch -"
"Right, that would be you."
Anthony's nostrils flared. He still felt guilty for what he'd done with the elimination - everything Sören said cut him like a knife. He'd been prepared to offer Sören some money to tide him over, and give Sören a reference for an upmarket restaurant, but he realized that would make him look even worse. But it was also hard for him to keep sympathy when Sören was yelling at him in his kitchen like this, even though part of him found it sexy as hell.
Anthony grit his teeth. "Do I look like a bitch to you?"
Sören glanced over at the ingredients on the counter, and suddenly he grabbed an egg and threw it at Anthony. It cracked in Anthony's face, splashed him, and dripped down. "Now you do," Sören said.
"You little -"
Sören's glare was a smirk now, and Sören darted over to grab the cup of flour and flung that at Anthony, landing over the egg.
"Now that's a look right there," Sören said, chuckling. "My best cake."
Something about that made Anthony snap, but he wasn't going to hit Sören. Instead he took an egg and threw it at Sören, who didn't duck fast enough, getting a faceful of egg. Anthony grabbed two eggs with one hand and the bag of flour with the other, and he put Sören in a headlock, cracking the eggs over his head, followed by dumping the flour over it. When he let go, the goopy white flour over Sören's curls and face and beard, and the fearsome glower turned comical, made Anthony double over with laughter.
Sören took the rest of the eggs, smashed them over Anthony, yanked the bag of flour away from Anthony and poured the entire contents over him.
This was war. But first, Anthony didn't want to completely ruin his Nirvana shirt, a relic from the 90s, so he took it off. Sören took his own shirt off, like a Viking berserker. Anthony decided to just go for broke and took his trousers and boxers down too, and Sören followed suit, giving Anthony the first glance at his pierced cock... which was already half-hard.
Anthony bit back a moan, his own cock stiffening in response, despite how ridiculous Sören looked with egg-and-flour caked on his face.
Sören began striding forward, fists clenched. He took the milk off the counter, and Anthony grabbed the bag of shredded cheese. Sören came towards Anthony and Anthony scampered away. They circled each other, and finally Sören lunged, splashing milk at him. Anthony tossed handfuls of cheese at Sören. Sören tackled Anthony, wrestling him onto the cold tile of the kitchen floor, and poured milk down Anthony's face, all over his chest and stomach. Before Sören could empty the entire milk jug, Anthony seized it and poured the rest of it over Sören, then threw cheese in his face. Sören reached into the cheese bag and threw cheese back at Anthony, and Anthony poured cheese over Sören until Sören snatched the bag away and poured the remaining cheese over Anthony.
They were out of milk and cheese, flour and egg now, both completely wet and messy - Anthony was sure he looked as ludicrous as Sören...
...and they looked into each other's eyes and cracked up laughing.
All of Anthony's momentary anger melted away. Somehow, this just made Anthony love Sören even more. It made Anthony want Sören even more. Sören looked so silly, yet Anthony had never lusted for him stronger than he did right now, burning up in Sören's fire and fury. They looked down at their cocks pressed together, rock hard against their stomachs. Anthony felt Sören's cock pulse against his, and it sent a frisson through him.
They kissed hard, and Anthony rolled on top of Sören, grinding against him as they kissed again. Then Sören shoved Anthony on his back and kissed him some more, grinding more insistently. Back and forth they went, flipping each other, rubbing their cocks together, kissing passionately, until they were both panting, trembling.
Anthony couldn't take it anymore. He shoved Sören off him, then he got up, pulled Sören up, picked Sören up off the floor, and carried Sören over to the kitchen counter, setting Sören down on the counter. They kissed again and Sören bit Anthony's neck and growled.
"Would you just fucking fuck me already," Sören rasped.
Anthony laughed. Then he felt a prickle of caution, having come of age in the 90s. "I don't have any condoms. It's been that long -"
"I got tested last week after we almost did the do. I don't have anything." Sören bit his lower lip.
Anthony took the olive oil and began kissing Sören as he worked his fingers inside Sören, finding that spot right away, readying him. Sören moaned as Anthony poured oil over his own cock, stroking it to work it in, and at last, with Sören's legs wrapped around his waist, Anthony pushed in.
When Anthony bottomed out inside him, Sören cried out and Anthony sighed deeply, savoring the silken heat welcoming his cock. "Oh, sweetheart," Anthony husked. He'd fantasized about this moment more times than he could count, and he never in a million years thought it would be like this, the two of them covered in egg-flour-milk-cheese muck from a food fight. Sören was utterly hilarious, and absolutely magnificent, the two of them so completely themselves, raw and wild and untamed.
"God, you're splitting me." Sören let out a little chuckle. He looked up - Anthony stifled a laugh at the goopy mess all over Sören's face and hair and beard, and Sören caught it anyway, giving a little glare before his face lit up in that grin Anthony loved. "Well, go on."
Anthony began to thrust. He had to go slow at first to not come right away, with how good Sören felt wrapped around his cock. But his animal side soon took over and he propped Sören's legs up on his shoulders, slamming away as Sören gasped and whimpered and seethed, stroking his cock furiously.
"That's it," Sören panted. "Oh, fuck yes..."
Anthony growled. "Fuck, you feel good."
"I love your cock."
Anthony reached out and put his left hand on Sören's right arm. "I love you, Sparky." He meant it. There was no denying it.
Their eyes met, and Sören ground out, "I lo - o - uhhhhhh." Sören couldn't finish the sentence as Anthony pounded into him harder, faster, overcome by emotion.
Anthony chuckled, and then he let out another little growl. "Yeah, you like that?"
"More, god, more," Sören begged, stroking his cock harder, his eyes desperate, fevered. "More, elskan, more, fuck me hard..."
Anthony moved his hand from Sören's arm down to cover Sören's right hand on his cock, then he took it away and began stroking Sören's cock for him, in time with his thrusts. Anthony's balls slapped against Sören, and using oil as lube made a deliciously lewd wet suctioning sound with each thrust. Anthony groaned, losing himself in the sound of their bodies slapping and slurping together, the way Sören moaned and cried out. Anthony's right hand reached to play with Sören's balls as he kept working Sören's cock.
"That's so good," Sören wailed. "Oh fuck, that's good, that's so good..."
"Oh Sparky, fuck, I want you." Anthony growled again.
"Take it," Sören cried. "Take it, fuck me, more, I need it, so good, don't you stop, don't you ever fucking stop..."
Anthony felt his balls tightening, the tension building, coiling, ready to spring. He was getting closer, but he wanted Sören to come first. He wanted to completely wreck Sören, give him the fuck of his life - and that was just the beginning. Anthony's right hand slid from Sören's balls to pinch and rub Sören's pierced nipples, and Sören screamed, bucking his hips, giving it back at Anthony, who rocked into him as fast as he could thrust, on the edge, right there...
Their eyes met and Sören's eyes widened, a look of shock on his face, followed by euphoria as he threw his head back and let out a long, loud howl as his seed splattered over Anthony's hand, then shot over Anthony's chest. Anthony loved it, and it set him off. He heard himself cry out, "Sparky!" not able to help it, as his orgasm hit him like a lightning bolt and the pleasure zapped through him, intense bursts then languid, soothing waves of blissful relief.
Sören's giggles bubbled out. "Oh my fucking god, you called me Sparky when you came."
Anthony's face burned. He caught his breath, feeling like he was high, and erupted into laughter of his own. It was hilarious - the entire thing was hilarious, the two of them messed up like this, Anthony even messier with Sören's cum all over him. It was so wrong, totally starting out on the wrong foot, and yet it was so very, very right. Anthony didn't have to be perfect for the camera, perfect for his kitchen. He felt freedom, his spirit soaring.
Sören sat up, and for a moment they looked at each other, then Anthony held out his arms and Sören threw his arms around Anthony, who pulled him close, cradling and rocking him.
"I'm sorry about the show," Anthony said.
"Yeah." Sören sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling -"
Anthony picked Sören's chin up, stroked his cheek, then booped Sören's nose. "You've a right to be angry. If our situation was reversed, I'd be furious. I hope you understand I made the only decision I thought I could make, but I know how important it was for you to win and secure a position in my restaurant and I promise you, I swear to you, I will help you if you want my help and I will make this right, somehow. The offer to paint a mural in my London restaurant still stands and I still want to pay you for it, and that will pay your rent for at least a few months while we figure something out."
"That's generous of you, but I'm also concerned about what it will be like somewhere else. At least with you I know how you are and I know your standards and your temperament. I worry about ending up with a chef who's worse than you, or pretends to be better and is mean and catty in a different, more subtle way, one that's harder to navigate. My only real safe option is going back to the ship, but like I said, I don't know when that's going to happen, and..." Sören sighed and looked down. "It's going to be difficult if not impossible to have a long-distance relationship with me at sea nine months out of the year."
Anthony sighed too. He knew the odds were against them, but he still wanted to try. Sören was something special.
"Sparky," Anthony began, and then he corrected himself, "Sören."
"You can call me Sparky," Sören said, and then with a grin he added, "if I can call you Corny."
"Sören," Anthony resumed, making Sören laugh - Anthony laughed too, then got serious. "I want to be with you. I want to take a chance with you. Let's not invite trouble before it happens. I am very sure I can help you work something out." Anthony had the very first seeds of an idea, in fact - something different than what he'd just mentioned, but he would have to sit on it at least overnight and think about it some more, see if he could make those seeds grow into long-term security. "Let's focus on the here and now. Right here, right now... I love you. I want to try."
"I do too." Sören took Anthony's hands in his, and squeezed, looking into Anthony's eyes.
Then Anthony looked down at the cum and not-having-quiche-after-all mess on his chest and stomach, and glanced up and down at the mess on Sören. "Right here, right now, we need to get cleaned up, and I need to clean this bloody kitchen disaster, and figure out what else I can make for dinner."
Sören cocked his head to one side. "How do you feel about takeaway, like getting Chinese or pizza or something?"
"Ordinarily I don't, but you know what, fuck it, today was hard, the kitchen is a catastrophe, so you're on."
First they took a shower together, and despite their intense orgasm, they hardened up again as they took turns lathering each other, slowly and sensually, then held each other under the spray, kissing as their cocks rubbed together. Anthony reached down to take both their cocks in his fist, pressing Sören up against the shower wall, and as they got closer, Sören took Anthony's hand away and purred, "I know something we can try."
Anthony watched as Sören positioned his cock so their cockheads were kissing, and the small captive bead ring in the head of Sören's cock pushed into the slit of Anthony's cock. Anthony gasped at the sensation - nothing had ever been in there before, and it was almost painful, but oh so pleasurable. Then Sören rolled his foreskin down over both cockheads, and began to work his hand up and down the tube of their joined cocks. Between fierce, hungry kisses, Anthony looked down at the erotic sight of their cocks together, Sören's cock swallowing his, Anthony's cock looking like it was fucking Sören's cock as Sören's hand stroked back and forth. The bead pushed in and out, in and out, as Sören's silky foreskin kissed the head of his cock so sweetly. The rhythm built the pleasure up and up and up until they were both quivering, panting, and they cried out together into one final kiss as they came at the same time. Feeling their white-hot cum together made Anthony's orgasm all the harder, Sören letting go of their cocks to steady him so he didn't fall over as he gasped for breath.
"Fuck, that was hot," Anthony breathed, giving Sören another kiss, softer and sweeter.
"Mmmmm." Sören smiled and rubbed noses with him. "There's more where that came from, elskan."
They stole another kiss before they got out of the shower, with prune skin. Anthony let Sören borrow a set of his pajamas, and Sören offered to clean up the kitchen mess he'd started but Anthony insisted on doing it himself, wanting Sören to try to relax. Once the kitchen was clean, Anthony ordered Chinese takeaway for delivery, and they ate together on the couch watching Casablanca, cuddling once they'd eaten their fill.
Cuddling turned into making out again, like they had last week. Anthony was pleased with how insatiable Sören was - and his ability to keep up with his randy new lover. Anthony carried Sören to the bedroom, making Sören laugh all the way there, and once they got in the bedroom they undressed each other.
"You're so beautiful," Anthony husked, running his hands over the ink on Sören's arms, then up Sören's stomach and chest, playing with his pierced nipples. "You're a living work of art." Anthony moved closer, pulled Sören against him, their hard cocks together once more, letting Sören see and feel how much he wanted. "Justin was an idiot for not appreciating you, but you're safe with me."
"You're safe with me too." Sören touched Anthony's face. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea from the food fight -"
Anthony put a finger to Sören's lips and smiled. "That was fun, actually."
Sören giggled. "Yeah, it was."
"I like that wild side of you, Sparky." Anthony kissed him, and then he began to walk Sören towards the bed. "I want you to ride me."
"Yeah?"
"Fuck yeah. Ride me, Sparky." Anthony climbed onto the bed, lay back against the pillows, and took out the lube, which he'd kept for Fleshlight use, but now he had the real deal. He poured lube over his cock and Sören was the one to work it in, kissing him eagerly.
Anthony watched adoringly as Sören straddled his hips and sank down, Anthony's cock sliding in an inch at a time. When Anthony was all the way in, Sören took his hands, kissed them, and squeezed.
Then Sören started to ride, bouncing up and down, bucking so hard the bed slammed against the wall and the mattress creaked. Anthony loved it. He slapped Sören's ass, making Sören cry out.
"That's it, Sparky, show me what you got." Anthony smacked Sören's other ass cheek.
"Oh, fuck!" Sören reached in to pinch Anthony's nipples, making Anthony moan, and Sören rubbed them as he rode harder. Anthony moaned louder, losing himself in sensation and the hot lust for watching Sören astride him, cock pumping in and out, the fluid grace of Sören's gorgeous body, the look of ecstasy on Sören's face.
When Sören got more vocal, Anthony began to play with Sören's cock, going mad with lust at that piercing, and Sören started working his hips in circles, squeezing his inner muscles, teasing them both. Two could play at that game and Anthony smacked Sören's ass with his free hand and rocked back at him, pounding, making Sören work for it, making Sören ride him like a wild bull. Sören grabbed onto Anthony for dear life, swearing in Icelandic through grit teeth, then finally not making words at all, just primal grunts and yelps until that moment of truth came, that startled look on Sören's face that let Anthony know he was about to explode.
"Come for me, Sparky," Anthony rasped.
"Oh, god, Anthony..." Sören bit his lip and whimpered as his body shook and his cock spurted up Anthony's torso. Sören let out a deep grunting growl.
Two thrusts later, Anthony couldn't help crying out "Sparky" again as he climaxed, filling Sören with his seed.
"Corny," Sören called back.
They laughed together, tearing up, still laughing as Sören leaned down to kiss him. They rolled onto their sides, laughing, hugging, kissing, rubbing noses, shameless in their silliness.
Sören snuggled into Anthony's chest, dozing off, and Anthony watched him, the lovely sight of Sören perfectly at peace. He felt tenderly protective of him, wanting to give Sören a better life than what he had.
He definitely had some thinking and planning to do.
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