"Anthony? You wanna come look at..."
Sören found Anthony sitting in front of his laptop, face buried in his hands, shaking with silent tears. Sören went right to Anthony and put an arm around him. "Anthony, elskan. Is something wrong?"
Anthony took his face out of his hands. "No. It's not."
Sören gave him a confused look.
Anthony laughed - cried, and laughed - and patted him. "You remember how you told me I should try to get back in touch with my friend Lawrence, who I fell out of touch with?"
"Jæja, I do."
"Well..." Anthony looked over at his laptop and nodded. "I just chatted with him."
"Oh, Anthony." Sören threw his arms around Anthony and hugged him tight.
Anthony leaned into him and sighed. It had been bittersweet - the shame of his other "friends" having ghosted him after the knife attack and ensuing mental fallout, the shame of having drifted from Lawrence because he felt too much like a wreck and didn't want people to see him like this. There was also guilt - Anthony had missed the important milestone of Lawrence proposing to his longtime girlfriend Diana, Anthony's former executive assistant. There was self-consciousness about how different their lives were now, like two different worlds. But Lawrence was understanding, and happy that Anthony was relieved to be out of the toxic professional world of London and living a more quiet, simple life now with the man he loved.
I can tell this is really serious, Lawrence had said.
Yeah, it is. I think I want to marry him, Anthony had replied.
Anthony was still on the fence about whether or not asking him was a good idea - he'd mull it over for a couple of weeks. In the meantime Sören was here now, and he'd been so wonderfully supportive. He was sensitive, and still self-conscious about how sensitive he was, but his sensitivity was his source of strength. His strong, deep emotions were a consuming fire, and that fire gave light to everyone in his life.
Too few people in his life. "You need friends, too." Anthony pet his curls.
Sören shrugged. He quickly changed the subject back to Lawrence. "You should get together with him. I don't mind if you want to invite him and his girlfriend up here to visit..."
Anthony laughed - still crying, enough that Sören passed him the box of tissues. "One thing at a time, Sören. I only just got back in touch with him a couple hours ago."
"And I bet it felt like you'd never been out of touch at all, right?"
Anthony nodded. That had been a relief - Lawrence not only weren't angry at him, understanding the mental health issues, but they had fallen right back into that old closeness, the feeling of that magic circle that had been with them in school, and was there again across the kilometers.
They continued to hold each other on the couch for a few minutes, until Anthony's tears had subsided some, and then Anthony stroked Sören's face and asked, "What did you want me to come look at?"
Sören got up, and pulled Anthony to his feet. Anthony followed him to the studio room.
He'd started a seascape - Anthony recognized the beach from their walks there.
"It's not done yet, it's a work in progress..."
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "It's still gorgeous. All the subtle shading in the water..."
"It's not done," Sören insisted. "It needs something. I don't know what, but it needs... something."
Anthony patted him. Sören got like this, and it usually meant he would add a few details, sometimes even a person or two, once he saw it in his mind's eye. He painted magical realism, as if he could somehow see or sense the hidden power in people, places, and things, the extraordinary in the ordinary.
Sören's focus shifted from the canvas on his easel to a canvas wrapped in clear plastic on the floor - specifically, the painting he'd done of Anthony naked in the garden. He pulled it out of the plastic now and held it up to take a better look at it. Anthony looked at it with him.
"I still love that," Anthony said, putting a hand on his arm.
"Jæja, I think enough time has passed now where I can stop looking at that so critically and just... enjoy it." The way Sören was smiling as he said those last two words, his eyes fixed on where Anthony's erection was in the painting, made Anthony laugh and roll his eyes, giving him a playful swat on the bum.
"This should be hung somewhere, finally," Sören said, a bit more sober.
Anthony couldn't resist. "It's hung, all right."
Sören snorted, blushing. "Usually I'm the one to make sex jokes..."
"Hi The One To Make Sex Jokes..."
Anthony took a few sprints away from him as he made a mock lunge, both of them laughing, then picked up a pillow from the nest in the studio and hurled it at him. The next thing he knew he and Sören were rolling around on the nest, smacking each other with pillows, tickling, before kissing passionately.
But before they could get too frisky, Anthony stretched. He felt wrung out from the cry, and some fresh air would do him some good. Fresh air and... another recovery milestone.
"Right," he said to himself. He looked at Sören. "Sören, I'm going to go for a run -"
"Hi Going To Go For -"
Anthony tweaked his nose, and Sören cackled, and Anthony gave him a mock glare before sitting up, then slowly pulling himself up.
"A run, huh?" Sören cocked his head to one side.
Anthony nodded slowly. He used to run at least three or four days a week, sometimes every day, before the knife attack. Since the knife attack he hadn't run. Not just because his body had needed some weeks of recovery after bleeding enough to need a blood transfusion, but because Sören didn't run, with his asthma, and Anthony had been loath to go anywhere by himself after the knife attack. Too paranoid. Anthony squared his shoulders. "I need to be able to go out by myself, to prove that I can, if that makes sense at all."
"It does. Are you sure...?"
"Sören, I wouldn't be planning on this if I wasn't sure."
"OK." He narrowed his eyes with concern. "Worrying is a force of habit, you know."
"I know. You're a sweetheart. But I'm sure." As much as Anthony enjoyed spending time with Sören, they couldn't be attached at the hip twenty-four hours a day.
"Take your cell phone and call me if you need me to pick you up -"
"Yes, Mother."
Sören snickered. "Now there's a concept, me giving birth."
Anthony found that thought appealing - and exciting, almost an admission that Sören wanted his pups, which Anthony very much wanted, with time - and decided he better go before he got tempted to stay here and shag all afternoon. Anthony went to take his phone off the charger and started to head to the door, with Sören following him.
"For my own peace of mind, do you know where you're going...?"
"Around." Anthony smiled. "But probably at least one of the routes is the shore, where that musician plays."
"Oh, OK. Well, have fun."
"You too." Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Anything exciting planned?"
Sören laughed, blushing. "Nah, I think I'm gonna hang up that painting of you, maybe read for awhile, or something. You gonna be gone awhile? You want me to take care of dinner tonight?"
"I'll probably be gone at least an hour, though I don't want to be running much past two hours without taking a rest, after not running for months, so likely I'll be home in two hours before we need to worry about dinner. Though, I may well be sore from the exertion so I won't say no to you handling dinner tonight."
"All right. Might run to the store then, too." He kissed the tip of Anthony's nose.
"Kay." Anthony patted him. "No fermented shark," he teased.
"No, that would be cannibalism." Sören attempted a wink.
Anthony swatted his bum again, Sören gave a throaty growl, and gasping with laughter Anthony made himself get out before he could throw him on the floor and make Sören ride him into the sunset.
_
Anthony was back an hour and forty minutes later. He'd managed to run without incident, though he was exhausted now. He made himself push through to the door, step by step, and when he staggered through the doorway, his entire body screaming for rest, Sören went right over to him and led him to the couch.
"I worried you'd overdo it," Sören said, dropping to his knees to take off Anthony's shoes and socks, then he maneuvered Anthony's legs so he was sprawled on the couch. Sören started to rub Anthony's feet, which felt amazing after the run.
"Well, I might have overdone it, but I did it." Anthony gave a weak thumbs up. "I fucking did it."
"You didn't have a panic attack...?"
Anthony shook his head. "I did notice myself looking around more, glancing over my shoulder, but I didn't panic. I was OK. I told you, Sören, I needed to prove to myself that I could do this. And I did."
"I'm proud of you. Though, you still overdid it." Sören gave him a stern look.
"Probably." Anthony narrowed his eyes. "Not that you should talk, Mr. Stays Awake For Three Days Painting."
"Touché."
"Yes, your tush-ay is very nice." Anthony grinned.
Sören grinned back, and rubbed his foot harder.
"Oh, god." Anthony moaned.
Sören bit his lower lip - Anthony knew that moan was making Sören think of sex, which he was too exhausted for right this minute but maybe later when he'd had some time to rest... he could almost see the cogs and gears turning in Sören's head, thinking of what he'd do to him later. Anthony grinned at him again, and then let out another moan as Sören's skilled fingers hit another good spot on his aching, throbbing foot, making him melt.
"I've got steaks marinating," Sören told him, continuing to rub. "I thought meat would be nice after your body had been working so hard."
Predictably, his mind went into the gutter at his own words and he stifled a laugh, not able to stifle it when Anthony noticed and rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I could go for some meat later," Anthony told him, the double entendre intentional, amused by his blush. "Honestly, I pushed so hard I could eat two steaks."
"Did you see that guy, by the way?"
"He wasn't there today." Anthony frowned. He'd been hoping to enjoy his music for awhile, as a little reward for his run.
"Awww, too bad. Well, maybe we'll run into him again soon."
Sören made him have a sports drink to rehydrate, which he got up and brought over, and after Anthony sat up to drink half of it - usually he didn't care for the stuff, but he was so parched from the exertion that it tasted divine - he flomped back down and Sören resumed rubbing his feet. Soon Sören was rubbing his legs, and the magic of Sören's hands made him not simply melt, but start to doze off.
When Anthony woke up, the heavenly aroma of the cooking steak and whatever he was making with it, permeated the house. Anthony groaned and reached for the sports drink on the coffee table, sitting up to finish it off.
Sören had made herbed fingerling potatoes and garlic-seasoned roasted squash and greens to go with the steak, which would have been delicious any other night, and tonight was an especially nice touch. Anthony ate with gusto, which pleased Sören, satisfied that he appreciated his cooking.
When the meal was done, Sören insisted, "I'll do the dishes. I know you prefer to handle dishes when I've cooked, but you already did enough today."
Anthony didn't protest.
They cuddled on the couch after dinner, watching Star Trek: The Next Generation, with the kittens purring away. Sören looked lost in space, as if he were focusing on something other than the program. Anthony knew from all this time that Sören's mind was often both there and elsewhere, contemplating the mysteries of the world, visions that he tried to express with a brush, effing the ineffable...
Sören was a dreamer, and Sören was his dreamer. Anthony started to massage Sören's scalp, the way he'd rubbed his feet and legs on the couch that afternoon.
"Mmmm, that's nice." Sören closed his eyes, and Anthony admired his beautiful long lashes, the sweet little smile as he rubbed his head through his curls.
Fuck, I want you. Anthony planted a kiss at the top of Sören's head, and when Sören tilted his face, their lips brushed. Except what was meant to be a sweet, gentle kiss deepened, their mouths parting, tongues sliding together, and they both groaned into the kiss. Anthony breathed in Sören's sweet, spicy floral Omega scent, now with a hint of woodsmoke, and his cock began straining through his boxer-briefs and trousers, aching for Sören's touch. His mouth. His hole.
They pulled apart, breathing hard, Sören's pupils blown wide, and Anthony expected him to grab his face and pull him in for another kiss, feverish, as he'd done so many times before, but instead Sören got a cryptic little smile on his face, poked the tip of Anthony's nose, and said, "Hold that thought."
Sören got up and ran down the hall - Anthony heard him curse in Icelandic and take a few puffs on his inhaler when he got there, and Anthony shook his head, laughing to himself. He says I overdo it and he's a horrible influence.
Every nerve in Anthony's body was screaming for sexual release - an orgasm would be wonderful to relax the tension in his sore muscles - and before he could climb the walls waiting for Sören with whatever the hell he had planned, he distracted himself by giving fresh food to the kittens, sitting nearby as he watched them practically inhale their food. Anthony still couldn't get over how small and cute the kittens were...
...and remembered how long cats tend to live, that it was a necessary commitment to the long term. Realizing it was a way of Sören telling him yes, I want this for life.
Anthony's eyes misted up, and before he could give way to another flood of emotion he heard Sören call down, "OH ANTHONYYYYYY...."
Anthony got up and headed down the hall. Sören wasn't in the bedroom, or in his studio. Sören let out a whistle, and Anthony heard it from the bathroom.
Anthony came in and the bathroom had been set up with candles, and there was a wonderfully fragrant bubble bath - he smelled lavender and rose. Sören was standing there in his boxer-briefs, half-hard, looking at him expectantly.
Anthony shucked his clothing, Sören pulled off his underwear, and once it was in the laundry hamper he took Anthony's hand and they climbed in the bathtub together. Anthony sighed as the hot water hit his sore muscles and the scent enfolded him, laughing softly as a bubble floated up and popped on his nose.
"I put some epsom salts in this," Sören said. "Thought that would be nice..."
"You sweetheart."
"That's not all." Sören reached up to a remote control sitting on the sink counter, and it turned on a small stereo player Sören had parked near the bathroom door. Enya came on. "Here. Welcome to my spa."
"Mmmmmm." Anthony sank down into the water, sloshing around. "You really are thoughtful."
"Jæja, I'm full of... thoughts." Sören's face lit up with a mischievous grin, and then Sören waggled his eyebrows. Anthony splashed him.
For awhile they just relaxed together in the heat and bubbles, candles glowing, Enya playing in the background. When "Orinoco Flow" came on, Sören responded to the "Sail away, sail away, sail away" chorus by holding out his arms and quoting the "I'M SAILING" line from What About Bob.
Anthony couldn't resist. "Hi Sailing..."
Now it was Sören's turn to splash Anthony, who laughed and splashed him back.
They splashed each other some more, until a big splash got Sören's face and hair completely drenched and he made a face so grumpy that Anthony couldn't help doubling over, tearing up in a gigglefit, sides splitting. He laughed harder when Sören opened his eyes, narrowed in a fearsome scowl.
"Oops," Anthony said.
Sören blew a raspberry at him.
Anthony laughed some more. "What are we, five?"
"I guess so." Sören scooped some bubbles onto his hand and blew them into the air. "Yay bubbles..." He clapped like a little kid, making Anthony laugh again.
"Jesus, Sören."
"I gotta say though... having some pretty adult feelings." Sören waggled his eyebrows again.
"Oh, are you?" Anthony leaned back, positioning himself so Sören could get a look at his now-hard cock, poking out through the bubbles. "Can't imagine why..."
"No, me either." Sören put one of Anthony's legs on his shoulder and started rubbing his foot again, and when Anthony let out a moan Sören sighed, which in turn got Anthony thinking certain thoughts.
Anthony melted into Sören's touch, his hands rubbing from foot to calf, and then slid up his thigh. Anthony's breath hitched, and again when his hand found its way to his stomach, rubbing in slow, lazy circles, giving him a knowing look.
Sören came closer, and pulled Anthony to him. Sören kissed his neck and shoulder as his fingers trailed lower, as Anthony's hand grasped his and guided it lower, to where he really wanted to be touched. Their mouths met as Sören played with Anthony's cock, rubbing slow and then faster.
"You like that?" Sören husked between kisses.
"God, yes..."
Sören kissed him again, and scooted closer - Anthony groaned as he felt Sören's cock bump up against his. Sören took both their cocks into his fist, stroking hard, until Anthony was right on that edge from Sören's grip and the silken steel of Sören's cock rubbing his cock. Sören began kissing and licking Anthony's neck, and Anthony felt himself tensing, that point of no return, balls tight, tight... He let out a growl. "Sören..."
"Come for me, elskan." Sören kissed him hard.
Anthony lost control, climaxing, and his cock spurting over Sören's set Sören off too, their cocks coming together, cum gushing and frothing into the bubbles. Anthony gasped for breath, shuddering with each pulse. "Fuck..."
They kissed, and the look of heat on Sören's face when they pulled apart made Anthony crave more, but not here. "We're getting prune skin," Anthony said, showing his wrinkled fingers.
They reluctantly climbed out of the tub and Sören drained it while Anthony toweled off. Sören turned off the stereo, snuffed the candles, and led Anthony into the bedroom. He lit candles there too, and as Anthony climbed onto the bed he noticed he had a bottle of vanilla-flavored massage oil. It was something he hadn't seen before, or at least not since before the knife attack, and this was a new bottle.
As he brought in the stereo from the bathroom, Sören noticed Anthony noticing. "I picked it up while I was out."
"You were planning this?"
"The bubble bath was spontaneous, but I planned the massage part while you were out." Sören smiled.
"God, Sören, you spoil me."
Sören got on the bed beside him. "You deserve to be spoiled."
Sade was on now. It was perfect... Sade, candlelight, Sören rubbing him down with massage oil. Anthony's toes and fingers curled and flexed like a contented cat, as he sighed into the pillow. Relaxation gave way to arousal, especially when Sören's fingers started to caress as much as they kneaded, and he kissed and licked between strokes. When Anthony was rolled from his stomach onto his back, the look of lust on Sören's face as he worked on him aroused Anthony even more. Sören licked and suckled his nipples, kissed and licked and nibbled his stomach, his thighs, fingers brushing over his, fire in his touch, fire in his dark eyes.
"I love worshiping you like this." Their eyes met.
"I love you." Anthony stroked his cheek.
"I know." With that, Sören lowered his head between Anthony's legs and took a slow, playful lick at Anthony's cock.
Sören licked Anthony's cock up and down, ever so slowly, teasing and teasing. Then he took Anthony's cock in his mouth, sucking slow, their eyes locked. The sight of those full lips wrapped around his cock, the lust in Sören's brown eyes, brought Anthony to that edge again and Sören kept him there, sucking slowly, slowly, savoring. At last Anthony began to gently thrust into Sören's mouth and Sören sucked harder, faster, playing with Anthony's balls as he sucked... making a filthy, delicious slurping sound as his mouth suctioned away. Anthony groaned and trembled, and when he was right there he gasped for breath, tugging on Sören's curls, trying to warn him he was about to come, but he couldn't make words, only little urgent noises, completely lost in sensation and desire. He came with a cry, and Sören murmured his pleasure as he swallowed it down. The look of satisfaction on Sören's face just intensified Anthony's release, loving how much Sören enjoyed giving him orgasms.
Sören needed at least one himself, and Anthony pulled Sören up to kiss him. Anthony moaned at the taste of himself on Sören's mouth, and kissed him more slowly, sensually, with their tongues taking playful licks between kisses.
Anthony rolled Sören onto his back. "Time to take care of you now."
"You always take care of me."
"You know what I mean." Anthony kissed down Sören's throat, licked at the scar from the claiming bite. Kissed and licked Sören's hard nipples, suckled one as he played with the other, going back and forth, teasing them into thick nubs that looked so inviting, asking to be teased for hours. Anthony lapped and lapped at them, sucking hard, making Sören whimper and buck against him, begging.
Anthony licked and nibbled Sören's stomach and inner thighs. He licked at Sören's cock, just licking, up and down the shaft, around and around the head, laving with faster strokes like he was tongue-bathing it, then more slowly. His fingers played at the sensitive place between balls and ass, and then he pushed a finger inside and moaned when he felt how slick Sören was.
"Goddamn," Anthony breathed.
"You get me so wet, elskan."
Anthony shivered. He could smell it, too, the sweet vanilla-like musk of Sören's slick, the woodsmoke notes of Sören's arousal getting stronger by the minute. He needed his Omega now, and he knew his Omega needed him. But Anthony made himself hold back a little longer, getting Sören good and ready. He sucked at the head of Sören's cock, and Sören arched to him, panting, eyes desperate.
At last Anthony slid up, put a pillow under Sören's hips, and with one of Sören's legs around him, Anthony took him slowly, their eyes locked, foreheads together, breathing each other's breath as Sade's smooth voice sang:
You're ruling the way that I move
And I breathe your air
You only can rescue me
This is my prayer
I cherish the day
I won't go astray
I won't be afraid
You won't catch me running
Anthony was inside Sören, and even though he needed a release again, he took it slow, wanting Sören's pleasure. All sense of time seemed to stop as Anthony melted into Sören again and again, slowly, sensually bringing them to that edge in a dreamy haze of sensation and loving connectedness. Anthony knotted and Sören cried out; Anthony drank his cry with a deep kiss. One of Anthony's hands wrapped around Sören's cock and the other roamed over Sören's body, stroked his hair, his face, and they kissed in time with his slow thrusts... when he wasn't licking and suckling Sören's nipples, licking and nibbling Sören's neck, whispering endearments between kisses.
After a long while of slow, sweet loving, Sören took his hands, urgent, and kissed him hard. Sören flung his arms around Anthony and with one of Sören's legs on Anthony's shoulder Anthony drove into Sören, panting, shaking as he held himself back, wanting Sören to come first. His hand worked Sören's cock in rhythm with his thrusts, and when Sören was whimpering, about to let go, Anthony kissed him deep and hungry. Anthony's fingers collected Sören's precum and he shoved them in Sören's mouth, cock throbbing as he watched Sören suck them. The ache sharpened as their tongues played, rubbing together, sharing the subtle taste of him. Anthony felt like he was going to explode, shatter, with how desperate he was to come, and he heard himself growl into Sören's neck. "Come with me."
Anthony took Sören's lower lip between his teeth, and Sören screamed, clenching around Anthony's cock, pulsing, his cock spraying hot cum over Anthony's chest. Three thrusts later Anthony spent into Sören, Sören's contractions milking him, Anthony's knot pulsing in time with Sören clenching and throbbing. Anthony groaned deeply and Sören sighed and cooed. Anthony rested his head in Sören's shoulder, feeling like he was falling, flying, floating in bliss.
"Oh, elskan." Sören laughed a little, rubbing his nose in Anthony's hair as he shivered with an aftershock.
"Mmmmmmm." Anthony rolled onto his side, pulled Sören close and kissed his forehead. "That was wonderful." Anthony took Sören's chin in his hand. "You were wonderful."
"So are you." Sören kissed the tip of Anthony's nose. "God, this will never get old."
"I could spend a lifetime doing this with you."
Their eyes met. "So could I."
The words hung there as they lay there. As Sören drifted off to sleep, Anthony watched - getting sleepy himself - and after he got up to snuff out the candles, his heart leapt at the moment of truth that rose within him. He wanted to ask Sören to marry him. It was time. Fuck mulling it over a few weeks. This was what he really and truly wanted, it was right.
Anthony made a note to himself to start the process of getting an engagement ring tomorrow, as he climbed back onto the bed and pet Sören, before sleep claimed him as well.
go to chapter 4 | go to story index | go to O-fic index | go to home page