[art by me and CogitatingKerfuffle, July 2021]
"Jæja?"
"Hi Sören, it's Anthony. I hope I'm not bothering you -"
"No." Sören yawned. "If you'd called ten minutes earlier you would have woken me up but it's fine. I'm up, having coffee." His voice was still husky from sleep, and his accent was stronger, his words a little slower as if his sleepy brain were working harder to translate. "What's up?" Then a pause. "Oh god, are you canceling?"
"No, no." Anthony's breath hitched, his stomach fluttering at the disappointment in Sören's voice over the prospect of him canceling. He likes me, he wants to see me. Anthony felt his cheeks burning as he went on, "I thought about calling to ask you last night but I didn't want to disturb you at work, and I don't even know if you have your phone on at work. Anyway... before I get ready to meet you down in the lobby, are we staying in a hotel or not, or camping?"
"Right, I should have told you and I completely fucking spaced out, I'm sorry." Sören gave a nervous laugh.
"It's all right. I only thought of it after I got to the hotel. I was a bit high still." And distracted. Anthony's mind's eye conjured an image of Sören, making his heart beat faster. He felt like an idiot, flustered and silly as he mooned over this Omega he'd just met. And the thought that they would be spending the night together, somehow...
"The hotels in the area are all booked up, like I had a feeling they would be. So. When we fly into Akureyri, I'm going to rent a campervan - we'd need a sturdy vehicle anyway to drive out to the Nature Baths in winter - and there's a campsite near Akureyri, Hamrar, which has bathrooms and even a small kitchen. We should be fine in the campervan, though I'd make sure to pack some warmer clothes."
"That's why I wanted to check, didn't know if I'd be in a climate-controlled hotel room or not."
"Well, the campervan is a tight enough space you don't need to overdo it, I've been told I throw off a lot of body heat."
Anthony tried to reply to that, and he couldn't make words. His cock responded for him, stiffening, strained in his jeans. I bet you're very hot, Sören. Now he didn't merely have a mental image of Sören, but he was wondering what Sören looked like naked. The thought of them shaking the campervan together as they kept each other plenty warm, naked bodies sweating as Anthony pounded him...
"OK. Thanks for telling me, I'll prepare accordingly."
"You're welcome. Sorry again I didn't tell you, I. Ah. My brain wasn't working, I guess."
"It happens." Anthony's brain was short-circuiting too. "See you soon."
"Takk!"
Anthony felt like he was going to jump out of his skin as he waited for Sören in the hotel lobby. He didn't even mind that he was going to be paying for the hotel room tonight when he wouldn't be using it - he had it booked through the night before he was scheduled to go back to London. The very real possibility that he would be balls-deep inside Sören tonight drove him mad with lust. He couldn't remember ever being this horny for someone before, not even William.
Anthony kept checking his watch, pacing. Annoyed with himself for being so impatient for Sören to get here. Wanting so much to see him again. See my Omega.
Anthony froze in his tracks. His mouth opened. His hair stood on end as he realized what he'd just thought to himself.
They were an Alpha and Omega, but they hadn't mated yet, and even if they did... they had just met two days ago. Anthony was going back to London after the holidays. This was just a fling. He had no right to think of Sören as his Omega over what was slightly-more-than-casual sex.
And yet, the thought had come. And he couldn't shake the feeling that Sören was, in fact, his Omega, and tonight he was going to knot for the first time, as he finally, at last, came into his full potential as an Alpha...
Sören walked into the hotel lobby. Their eyes met across the room. Sören gave him that shy yet radiant smile that took his breath away. Anthony strode over to him, put his overnight bag down on the floor, and took Sören into his arms for a moment. Just a moment was all he could allow - Sören smelled delicious, and he had to fight every Alpha instinct he had not to kiss Sören, otherwise they wouldn't be going to Akureyri today, they'd be spending the entire day in Anthony's hotel room, in bed.
It was just as well. When they pulled back, Anthony studied Sören's lovely face and observed he looked like hell. Gorgeous hell, but hell nonetheless, like Sören had gotten very little sleep. "Are you OK?" he asked.
"Oh, jæja, I'm fine," Sören said, and gave a nervous laugh.
"You look tired." Anthony made a little noise of concern. Then he realized what he was doing. This too was Alpha instinct, wanting to care for an injured or unwell Omega mate. Bloody hell.
Sören nodded.
"Trouble sleeping?"
"Yes and no. So my shift usually ends at two when the bar closes, right? Well, just before closing time, two guys got in a fight and I had to break it up. That took some time. Then I had to clean up after them. That took... more time. I didn't get home till close to four because of all the broken glass and I had to mop up the spilled alcohol and..." Sören shook his head.
Anthony felt a pang of sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Are you... gonna be too tired for all of this? I know we have kind of a long day ahead of us, I don't want you to overexert yourself if -"
"I'll be all right." Sören yawned again and gave a tired smile. "That's what coffee is for. Come on, let's go catch our flight, I've got a cab to the airport outside."
It was just under an hour to fly from Reykjavik to Akureyri; Anthony expected Sören to doze off on the plane, but Sören seemed a little tense flying, and Anthony worked out that Sören probably had some anxiety.
"Do barfights happen often?" Anthony asked, curious.
"No. For a country full of the descendants of Vikings, we're pretty tame these days." Sören chuckled. "But some people drink more during the holidays and some people can't handle their liquor well."
Anthony could practically hear the unvoiced like my aunt and uncle. He decided to take the opportunity to get to know Sören a little better. "So you left Akureyri when you were... eighteen? How long ago was that? How old are you?"
Sören's chuckle became a full-bodied laugh. "Old enough." Then he said, "I turned twenty-three in November."
"Scorpio?"
"Sagittarius. Scorpio cusp, I guess."
Anthony nodded. He didn't really believe in astrology himself - his mum sort of did, a Libra, who checked her horoscope and his regularly - but it was an icebreaker. "I'm an Aquarius. I'll be twenty-eight in February."
"Hi An Aquarius I'll Be Twenty-Eight In February -"
Anthony facepalmed, laughing, and elbowed Sören, who elbowed him back. Anthony had guessed Sören was in his early to mid twenties, and he hadn't guessed wrong. "You went to university, right? But you work as a bartender?"
"I went to med school, actually, and I had a breakdown. It's how I know I have PTSD, I was diagnosed." Sören shrugged. "So yeah, I work as a bartender. I get good tips, and I have more freedom with how I can handle customers than in other jobs. I don't have to take it if someone is being belligerent, the way I would if I was working at a coffee shop or a restaurant or a store. I'm equal parts barista and bouncer."
Sören was on the slim side, but Anthony was noticing now that Sören wasn't really slight, he had a wiry build. His admission that he stood up to bar patrons as needed - and handled it if and when things got nasty - meant he was a bit more assertive than the typical Omega. Anthony knew from his own experience with bullying that it either tended to turn a person into a retreating wallflower, or someone who could dish it right back.
And yet, there was sensitivity there. Vulnerability. Anthony's mind replayed the word breakdown. "I'm sorry about your breakdown. I... attempted suicide some years back. I don't normally tell that to anyone, let alone strangers - my ex didn't even know - but I feel like you'd understand."
"I do. And... me too." Sören nodded solemnly, and their eyes met. "But we're both still here. The people who hurt us... they couldn't put out our fire."
"No." Anthony smiled; he liked that description. "And... wow, I wasn't expecting to see this much of Iceland. Thank you, again, for being willing to take me to Akureyri and show me things."
The plane started the descent just as the first golden rays of dawn were melting away the blue twilight. As they got closer to the city, the sky filled with color - soft blue, lavender, and peach, with burning hot pink. Akureyri was on a fjord, with a snow-capped mountain looming in the distance. The view of the sunrise over the fjord and mountain as seen from the plane made Anthony gasp, hair standing on end, unshed tears stinging his eyes. He'd flown before, but he'd never seen sunrise or sunset from a plane, and it gave Anthony a sense of awe, once again glad he'd made it to see little wonders of the world like this.
And he had someone to share it with, at least right now. Instinctively, not thinking about it, his hand took Sören's as the plane touched down into the gold-tinged sunrise clouds. Sören squeezed his hand.
The sunrise faded as they got off the plane and made their way to the car rental. Anthony insisted on paying for the 4 x 4 campervan, but Sören was more familiar with driving in Icelandic winter conditions than he was so it was Sören who got behind the wheel once the campervan was theirs for the day.
"So, plans right now are, I'll show you around the city while we have some daylight to work with, this afternoon I'll take you to the Goðafoss and the Dimmuborgir and we'll see the sunset, and then after it gets dark we'll go to the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn, before we go to Hamrar and park the van for the night. It's clear weather today which means a good chance of an aurora tonight."
"Sounds good."
Sören put on black aviator sunglasses, turned on the engine, and grinned. "Let's rock."
Before they went into the city proper, Sören took them on a detour, a drive along the coast and through the countryside. "My great-grandparents had a farm out here," Sören said. "I was named for my great-grandfather, Sören. He was a farmer, a minister, and an inventor. He made a hot-air balloon and flew around Iceland in it."
"Is the farm still in your family?"
"No." Sören shook his head. "Unfortunately, not."
Anthony found it intriguing that Sören had been named for an interesting ancestor, and thought about asking about him, but he didn't want Sören to feel like he was on trial, especially when there was so much beautiful scenery to focus on. Anthony was captivated by the icy water, the snowy hills. This seemed like a lovely place to grow up, and Anthony could see how it probably influenced Sören to become an artist. The land out here almost sang.
Once they went back to the city, Sören parked so they could walk a few streets and get a better appreciation for how the city was put together. Anthony loved Akureyri's main streets with their brightly colored buildings, the crosswalk sign that displayed a heart... and the enormous statues of Grýla and Leppalúði. Anthony wasn't expecting the trolls to be so big, but then he supposed they had to be, if they ate humans. They took some selfies, together and separately, at the statues, and at the heart. Anthony thought again about kissing Sören at the heart sign - it seemed like the ideal place for a first kiss - but he felt shy and flustered, and in any case, they weren't alone. Akureyri was far from a big city, but there were at least a couple dozen other people walking around, and while Iceland was one of the most progressive countries on LGBT rights, Anthony still didn't want to take the risk of making a scene and creating unwanted attention.
Sören took them into a coffee shop, where they fueled up - Sören still looked exhausted, and it meant a lot to Anthony that Sören was willing to show him Akureyri when he was this tired. After the coffee shop they visited a few specialty stores and boutiques, one of which had a selection of quirky hats. Sören trying on different ridiculous hats made Anthony laugh, harder when Sören began to strut like a supermodel, posing this way and that.
They had an early lunch at a small, cozy restaurant, and then they hit a flower shop. Sören bought a small bouquet of red roses and delicate white Christmas roses, and Anthony wondered about it. On a whim, Anthony bought a single long-stem red rose and gave it to Sören.
"To say thank you," Anthony said.
Sören took the rose and his cheeks turned pink. "Thank you." He put the flower to his nose and for some reason Anthony found that adorable. Once again, he wanted to take Sören in his arms and kiss him.
Sören's scent was even stronger than the flowers in the shop, and Anthony was noticing his own. He hoped the florist was a Beta; he didn't get close enough to smell, and even if he did, their own scent was almost overpowering. It got more intense when they got back in the van. Every nerve in Anthony's body was screaming to kiss Sören, to drag him into the back and rail him into next week. But he made himself behave - they were far from done with the tour.
Sören drove them out to Akureyrarkirkja, designed by the same architect as Hallgrimskirkja. It was also an impressive piece of architecture, with graduated columns in the same basalt-like finish as the church in Reykjavik, evocative of the rocks and mountains of Iceland. The church was also magnificent on the inside, with a 3200-pipe organ, richly colored stained glass windows, bas-reliefs on the balcony, and the white marble angel baptismal font was a replica of a famous statue by Thorvaldsen, which Anthony recognized from his visit to Copenhagen in 2002.
Anthony snapped photos of the inside and outside of the church, to show his mum, who loved looking at architectural masterpieces like this one. He also couldn't help but take a few photos of Sören, who seemed completely lost in taking in every detail of the church, a look of awe on his face. That was, to Anthony, as gorgeous as the church itself, if not moreso; Sören was a living work of art.
Sören finally turned to Anthony, a blissful smile on his face. "I may not be a fan of religion, but I can still appreciate something like this. It's gorgeous."
"It really is." So are you. That smile made Anthony melt.
"I suppose you could say beauty is my religion. It's why I paint, why I want to sculpt, make glass. I'm in love with the world and want to give back the joy, the light, it gives me. A gift for a gift, fire for fire."
Anthony once again fought the urge to kiss Sören.
He didn't want to fall for this guy - he was going back to London after the holidays. Sören lived in Iceland. A long-distance relationship was difficult - not impossible, but difficult. They still barely knew each other, even though Sören felt like an old friend already, and in moments like this, when Sören shared his wonder at the church, it felt like Anthony could see inside him, could touch his soul.
But more and more, Anthony was feeling caught up in the rush, head spinning as they left the church. Thinking of doing things to Sören that were most improper to think of anywhere near a church.
Their next stop briefly shocked Anthony out of his giddy lust. After Sören parked the van he took the bouquet of flowers and they climbed a snowy hill overlooking the famous Botanical Garden... they were walking into a graveyard. Anthony had wondered why Sören bought a bouquet of flowers that didn't seem to be for him, or Sören would have likely given it when Anthony gave him the rose. Anthony put a hand on Sören's arm, having a feeling this visit was deliberate, making up for lost time away from Akureyri.
They came to a pair of grey headstones, that had been bare for a long time, only decorated with snow and frost. Anthony read the names:
Sigurd Tollasson, 1957-1986
Brynhildur Jónsdóttir 1960-1990
Sören knelt down in the snow, kissed his fingertips, and pressed them against his mother's grave before laying the bouquet of flowers between the two headstones.
Anthony gave him a moment of silence, and distance. Sören lowered his head and closed his eyes as if in prayer, taking a few slow, deep breaths, and then he heaved. Anthony went to him, put his hands on Sören's shoulders, gently guided him up, pulled him close.
Anthony let Sören cry, let Sören rest on his shoulder, gently petting Sören's curls. Anthony fought the urge to pick Sören up, carry him back to the campervan, and fuck the pain away. He knew sex didn't solve everything, and he knew Sören needed space to grieve. He knew it would still hurt after all this time. He still missed his uncle Nigel desperately, and that hadn't even been one of his parents.
Anthony did the mental math and found himself musing aloud. "You were two when your father died, and... five? Six? When your mother died."
Sören nodded. He picked his head up and wiped his tears with a gloved hand. Anthony kept a small packet of tissues in his trenchcoat and handed it to Sören now, who accepted with a mumbled "takk." Anthony wanted to dry Sören's eyes for him, but he felt like he might be overstepping his bounds.
"So young," Anthony said, his heart breaking for him.
"Jæja. I... I found my mother's body."
"Jesus Christ." Anthony cringed. That was a terrible trauma - worse to know Sören had gone from that to his alcoholic aunt and uncle.
"It's why I wanted to go into medicine." Sören looked away, out at the view of the city center and the sea, from atop the hill. The wind stirred his curls. "I couldn't save her, but maybe I could save other people. Except I couldn't. One of my patients during my internship, looked a lot like my mother, and she died just before the holidays. That was when I had my breakdown. The ink on my arms... it goes out to my back. Two phoenixes, one fire, one water. It was the first painting I made, when I was in the hospital. Sort of symbolic of trying to calm the raging fire within, find balance, find some sort of peace. I haven't quite succeeded but I'm less of a mess than I used to be."
Anthony put an arm around him. He didn't know what to say, but he admired Sören all the more for baring his soul like this.
Then words came to him. "I'd really like to see your art."
Sören gave a nervous laugh. "Well, you sort of will, later. I designed the ink on my back, you'll get to see it at the Nature Baths. If you like that, then during the holidays I'll... show you my paintings."
Anthony stopped himself from saying I'm very sure I'll like what I see. He was positive the attraction was mutual - even now, in the storm of Sören's grief, silent tears spilling down the Icelander's cheeks, Anthony could scent Sören on the wind. But it seemed tacky to make sexual innuendo at Sören's parents' grave.
He was curious about how Sören's parents died - they were quite young too - but he got the sense more questions would be upsetting, not wanting to rip open the old wounds of trauma. He did, however, take Sören's hand as they went down the hill back to the campervan, a way of quietly offering his support, and when they got to the campervan, he gave Sören another hug before they got in. Sören leaned on him again, and Anthony spent a moment petting him, and when Sören picked his head up their eyes held.
You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. If the eyes were the window to the soul, Sören's soul was gorgeous - dark, sweet fire - and just the little bits and pieces Sören had shown over the last two days made Anthony certain of that perception. He thought about telling Sören how lovely his eyes were, but his face burned and words failed him, heart beating faster, body tingling. Instead, he gently touched Sören's face, and stopped himself from grabbing Sören's face and kissing him. He would make up for those urges later.
Sören managed a smile and leaned into his touch like a cat being petted, before he pulled back - a bit reluctantly, Anthony observed - and walked around to his side of the campervan. Anthony couldn't help looking at Sören's jeans-clad ass with the peacoat riding up as Sören climbed in.
He wanted.
Sören lightened the mood somewhat by taking them to the Botanical Garden next. "You should see it in summer," Sören said, his voice wistful. "The garden really comes alive with flowers in so many different colors. Orange, blue, purple, pink, red, gold. It's a rainbow."
Anthony could almost see it. But even the frost-covered shrubs and grass and icicle-capped bare trees had their own loveliness, as if they were in an enchanted realm where it was always winter, like the garden was alive and blooming ice and snow.
"It's peaceful here any time of year. I used to come here a lot to escape what was going on at home. I started drawing here. Stupid little whimsical things - you know, elves, faeries, dragons, unicorns." Sören gave a self-conscious laugh and rubbed his beard.
"I don't think it sounds stupid. I can see how you would think of mythic creatures in a place like this. It feels like we've stepped into another world."
"It really does." Sören breathed a small sigh. "This entire place, my hometown, is... full of magic. It's in my blood, my bones, my soul." He put a hand on his heart. "No matter where I go, I still keep painting scenes of Akureyri, most of the time, but turned into fantasy type stuff."
"I really want to see your art now."
Sören laughed harder.
Anthony shut up about it as they continued to stroll through the garden, not wanting to disturb the wintry serenity. Before they left he took a few photos, including one of Sören, once again lost in his own little world of artistic vision, probably not noticing that he was posing for the camera. Anthony found him especially beautiful like this, pensive, where he could almost see Sören's mind at work.
Through the eyes of flame. Anthony could see what Sören meant about throwing off a lot of body heat - the air around him felt slightly warmer as Sören was deep in thought, studying every detail, transforming it in his head.
The mood was lightened even more at Jólahúsið, the Christmas House just outside Akureyri. The kitschy bright red house with fake snow and fake candy canes on the roof made Anthony smile, smiling harder when they got inside and browsed through two floors of decorations, toys, and ornaments. Some were from different cultures but most were Icelandic. Sören pointed out figurines of the Yule Lads, and they took a detour to see a cave on the ground floor with another enormous statue of Grýla, more comical than terrifying.
Seeing Sören exuberant like a big kid as they looked at the tower with stained glass windows of the advent calendar and adorable paintings on the walls, was good for Anthony's soul. He loved the way Sören laughed when they went to the sweet shop. Sören bought candy for himself, and bought some candy for Anthony to take back to England, which made Anthony want to kiss him again.
Anthony ended up buying a figurine of the Yule Cat as a souvenir, and one for his mum. He chuckled as he watched the cashier wrap up the figurines. "I still can't believe you lot tell children a giant cat is going to eat them if they don't get new clothes for Christmas."
"We even have a song about it," Sören said. He cleared his throat and began to sing:
Þið kannist við jólaköttinn
Sá köttur var gríðarstór
Fólk vissi ekki hvaðan hann kom
Eða hvert hann fór
Hann glennti upp glyrnurnar sínar
Glóandi báðar tvær
Það var ekki heiglum hent
Að horfa í þær...
When the song was over, Anthony had chills. He didn't expect to be so powerfully affected by a song about a people-eating cat, but it was less the content of the song and more Sören singing in his native language. Anthony had heard Sören sing the night they met and he had a good voice, but hearing Sören singing in Icelandic made his hair stand on end and made his cock strain uncomfortably in his jeans. He had to make sure he wasn't drooling on himself.
The cashier gave them a knowing look. Anthony couldn't get out of there fast enough, face on fire. Instead of going right back to the van, Sören took them through the Christmas Garden in back, which had a miniature replica of an Icelandic church, and a wishing well. The real point of interest, though, was a tree near the well, with gold stars at the end of its branches. Anthony teared up, not understanding why. This time it was Sören who put a hand on his arm.
"Jæja, the tree of stars gets me too," Sören said, his voice husky. "Not really sure why." He gave another nervous laugh.
From the Christmas House, Sören began the drive to the Goðafoss. "D'you mind if I put on music? I brought mp3s."
"I don't," Anthony said.
Sören had a mix of Cocteau Twins songs, which was the perfect soundtrack for the otherworldly beauty of the Icelandic landscape as Sören drove along the Ring Road, farther and farther out from civilization. The blue sky felt endless over the snow-kissed hills and mountains... the earth felt ancient, primordial. Liz Fraser's glossolalia expressed emotions that had no proper words... the voice of the non-human, mythological beings Sören painted, magic hidden in the world.
When they reached the Goðafoss, they approached hand-in-hand, in a reverent hush. Anthony's mouth opened at the waterfall gushing fiercely, unstopped by the ice. The air was clean and crisp and everything felt alive.
"If you like this," Sören said softly, "we have time before I have to return the campervan tomorrow. I can take you to see Selfoss and the Dettifoss - the Dettifoss is the most powerful waterfall in Europe. It's a two-to-three hour drive from Akureyri one way, depending on road conditions, so it's an all day trip, but it's worth seeing."
Anthony squeezed his hand. "I'd like that a lot."
"Good." Sören squeezed his hand back.
They were the only two people at the wintry waterfall - it felt colder here by the water so Anthony wasn't surprised there wasn't a crowd today - but Anthony resisted kissing him. He didn't think they could stop at one kiss, and they still had the Dimmuborgir and the Nature Baths on the itinerary. But there was a moment when they looked at each other, locking eyes, and Anthony got the sense Sören was thinking about it too, wanting it just as much as he did.
The thought of knotting inside Sören later... Anthony shuddered, not from the cold. His cock throbbed, the fist of his free hand clenching. His body was starting to scream for sexual release. Sören's Omega scent was stronger, muskier, more inviting.
Anthony made himself focus on the fall, watching the water rush and rush into the pool below, roaring. "I came here just before I left for Reykjavik," Sören said. "I tossed a coin in the water. I came back here after I quit med school, did the same thing. It's like a little ritual I do, before I make a major life decision I come here and throw a coin in the waterfall, even though I don't believe in luck." Sören reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, and Anthony watched as Sören threw it into the cascading water. The coin glinted in the sunlight and then it was gone, swallowed up by the fall.
Anthony wondered about that, but said nothing. Then Sören pulled out another coin and handed it to him. Anthony took the coin - his hand and arm tingled pleasantly as his fingers brushed Sören's - and then he pitched it into the fall. It too dropped into the roaring flow.
Sören took his hand again, and Anthony found himself stroking Sören's palm with his thumb. His cock throbbed again. Anthony closed his eyes and wished that he and Sören would have more time together - going back to London on the second felt too soon. Of course, he had to leave, he had his job to go to. But maybe Sören could visit him in London. Maybe for Valentine's Day. Maybe...
You barely know him. Stop it.
Their eyes met again. Anthony's heart skipped a beat, lost in those sweet chocolate eyes. Wanting to taste those full lips...
The Dimmuborgir was another piece of Iceland that felt like it didn't exist on Earth but in its own pocket of time and space. The black lava formations resembled ancient ruins, easy enough to believe a lost civilization had built them and vanished here. There was the same sort of heartbeat, pulsing energy that Anthony had felt when he'd visited sites like Stonehenge and Wayland's Smithy and the dolmens in Jersey and the stone circles at Gårdlösa, but wilder, stronger.
They walked around the eerie rugged black rocks. They both looked at an arch, contemplating walking through it, and decided to walk around it instead for no particular reason. Anthony felt a little dizzy, which was unusual since he had never been prone to vertigo, and as far as he knew there was nothing going on with the air quality or the elevation that would affect him like this. He had the same prickle at the back of his neck that he felt before a thunderstorm, but there was not a single cloud in the sky.
As they explored the rocks, the air took on that golden touch of late afternoon before sunset, and at last the first rays of sunset glinted on the horizon. Streaks of soft pink and orange brushed across the sky. Sören and Anthony sat together and watched the sky blaze over the black rocks, magenta and vermilion and cerulean and violet. The sky became less and less blue and more and more orange, then red, burning, making the snow look like it was on fire. Anthony didn't think he'd ever seen a more beautiful sunset, made all the more beautiful by the look of bliss on Sören's face as he looked into the clouds.
The red began to fade to indigo, and Sören and Anthony took that as their cue to get back in the campervan and drive to Lake Mývatn. Sören's mix of Cocteau Twins songs felt even more appropriate for what they had just witnessed, the beauty and power of it. Anthony wondered if he listened to this when he painted.
He didn't just want to see Sören's art, he wanted to watch Sören paint. If Sören's face was anything like the way he'd looked at the sunset...
Oh god, I'm falling in love with him. What the fuck.
This was bad. This was supposed to be just a fling. They would likely hook up tonight, probably more than just tonight if it went well, and then Anthony would go back to London in the new year and maybe Sören would come visit him, maybe they'd have a beautiful long-distance friendship with benefits. But there was this feeling of wanting more than that. Wanting more than that with someone he didn't even know four days ago. He was falling hard - he wasn't this giddy and flustered and curious and moonstruck for William, even.
He needed to stay cool, and not creep Sören out with being too intense. Anthony took a few deep breaths. Then he realized that very soon, he was going to see Sören in swim trunks. Next to nothing. He felt like he was on fire.
This is fine.
They weren't the only people at the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn - besides staff, there were a few other visitors - but it wasn't crowded at all. However, Anthony was completely taken aback when the staff informed them they had to shower naked before going in the hot spring.
Sören nodded solemnly. "That's pretty much the rule at every hot spring here. You would have had to get naked at the Blue Lagoon showers, too."
So they were going to see each other naked a bit sooner than expected. Anthony felt suddenly shy, and tried to not make it obvious that he kept staring at Sören's magnificent, firm, peach-shaped ass. He made himself look at the ink on Sören's back too - the ocean waves from his left arm led out to a waterbird, the flames from his right arm led out to a firebird. Their tails twined. The birds looked like falcons, and loving attention had been given to the feathers.
When Sören turned around, Anthony glanced at the front of him too. Sören was lithe like a dancer, and had captive bead rings in his nipples, and one in the head of his cock. Anthony's jaw dropped, and his already-hard cock rose against his stomach, throbbing painfully.
Sören opened his eyes and looked down at Anthony's hard cock. "Nice," he said, with a wicked little grin. When Sören turned back around, he shook his ass at Anthony.
Anthony fought the urge to go over there, slam Sören against the wall, grab a fistful of those wet curls, and take him. He was hornier than he'd ever been in his life - the smell of their mutual arousal rose above the scent of the soap and the slight sulphuric smell of the shower water, which seemed to be ever-present in Iceland. Anthony made himself remember that there were other people at the hot spring and they probably didn't want to walk in on two gay guys fucking. Or maybe they did. Either way, Anthony didn't want to get them in trouble.
Anthony had brought swim trunks to Iceland, navy blue with a white stripe going down each side. He'd anticipated swimming in the hotel pool or perhaps visiting one of Iceland's many hot springs, like the Blue Lagoon. He hadn't anticipated wearing them in front of a hot guy he wanted to fuck into oblivion. But as dorky as he felt in those trunks, he had to wear something in the hot spring. Sören's trunks were somewhat worse, a bright neon green that somehow did not detract from his beauty at all.
Anthony had never been in a hot spring before, and he went in slowly, letting himself adjust. His body shivered from the part of him that was exposed to the cold Icelandic night, but he stopped shivering once he was in up to his waist. He followed Sören out a few inches more, and then they leaned on each other in the soothing hot water, looking up at the stars in the night sky. They were far enough away from civilization to have not so much light pollution and a lovely view of the stars. It was magical to Anthony, who'd never seen a clear night sky before, having spent his life in London - even when he traveled Europe, he hadn't gone so far away from cities.
"This is nice," Anthony said. He immediately felt like an idiot - "nice" didn't seem like it did justice to the majesty of the stars above them.
"Jæja. It's lovely." Sören turned to look at him. "And so are you."
Anthony's breath hitched. He moved in closer - now was the time. Just before Anthony could claim that first kiss, green light poured over them, like someone had turned on a lamp.
Anthony pulled back a little and looked up. There it was, the aurora. He'd been hoping to see the northern lights at least once during his trip to Iceland. Anthony had always loved pictures of auroras, and now seeing one in-person was even better. His hair stood on end, his skin gooseflesh, as he watched bands of electric green dance across the sky, shimmering.
"Holy fuck." Anthony gasped.
"Shit." Sören shivered.
They continued to watch the aurora, winding, waving, as if the sky had become a sea of color. For all that Anthony had despaired of life in his younger years, and had fallen into a depression after what happened with William, this moment made him glad to be alive. It made him remember there were good things in the world, good things about living. It made him hope for more beautiful moments like this one...
...a beautiful person to share it with.
Caught up in the feeling, Anthony turned his body, and Sören did too, facing him. Anthony grabbed Sören, pulled Sören's body against his, and their mouths met for the first time. Sören's full lips were soft, and Anthony savored the way they felt.
Then their lips parted and their tongues played together, swirling slowly, sensually, teasing. Anthony grabbed Sören's face and kissed him more deeply, hungrily, wanting Sören to feel how grateful he was for this experience, how good it was to share a moment like this, sacred, intimate. Sören kissed him back with just as much hunger, matching fire for fire. Anthony was hard again, and his hands slid down from Sören's face to roam over his body, silk hiding steel. Sören trembled against him and Anthony felt the hard bulge in Sören's trunks, grinding against his. They kissed and kissed, breathless, hands caressing each other's bodies, tongues dancing, a promise of how their bodies would join together later.
Several kisses later they pulled apart to watch the aurora some more - now bits of cyan and fuchsia were swirling into the green. Anthony's eyes teared up. Sören put an arm around him and rested his head on Anthony's shoulder. Anthony tilted his head so it touched Sören's.
"This is the most amazing moment of my life," Anthony said.
Sören smiled, and squeezed.
After the aurora faded away, and they had prune skin, they left the hot spring, showered again, and climbed into the van. The night was still young - it was just after six PM - but Sören kept yawning as he drove on the Ring Road back towards Akureyri, and Anthony remembered Sören had a later night than usual because of the barfight he had to break up and clean up, so he was tired.
"Are you going to be all right to drive?" Anthony asked, feeling a twinge of concern, not wanting Sören to get into an accident if he was this worn out.
"I'll be fine. Do you want to get a bite to eat before we go to the campsite, or do you want to pick up food at a store and use the camp's kitchen?"
As much as Anthony liked the idea of cooking at the campsite - a reminder of when he used to go camping with his late uncle Nigel - he wasn't much of a cook, and he didn't want to ask Sören to cook for them when Sören looked exhausted. "We can eat in town. I'll pay, I insist."
"OK. You in the mood for anything in particular?"
Not able to help himself, Anthony gave Sören a pointed look.
Sören caught it, and threw his head back with a throaty, full-bodied laugh. Then he glanced at Anthony again, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. "That's dessert," Sören husked, and then he wiggled his eyebrows.
Now it was Anthony's turn to blush... and squirm in his seat as his cock stirred again, his mind burning with thoughts of sucking Sören's cock, Sören coming in his mouth... rimming Sören, tasting his slick. His fists clenched again, wanting to make Sören pull over the van, say "fuck it" with dinner, and just feast on Sören's body in the back for the rest of the night. He needed to behave himself.
For now.
They had dinner at a fish-and-chips restaurant, nothing fancy, but good comfort food for both of them. They took turns feeding each other chips and bites of shrimp and scallops and cod, playfully booping each other's noses, sucking fingers, stealing little kisses. The other patrons in the restaurant stared at them, and Anthony had a feeling it was less due to them flirting outrageously and more because the scent of their mutual arousal was so potent. Indeed, before they could finish eating, the manager himself came out in an apron, with two containers. "I need you to leave," he said under his breath. "Everyone can smell you."
Anthony felt a little embarrassed, but then Sören said "Sorry," with a naughty grin that said he wasn't sorry at all, and cracked up laughing as he loudly sipped his Applesín orange soda. Anthony tried not to laugh too - he did love Sören's cheeky audacity - and he teasingly kicked him under the table and Sören kicked him back. They played footsie as they put the last few scraps of their meal in a container as leftovers for tomorrow.
Sören let out a loud yawn as they walked to the campervan, and rubbed his eyes. Anthony felt another twinge of concern. He knew the campervan had GPS - Sören had used it to get to the waterfall and Dimmuborgir earlier - and he tapped Sören's shoulder before Sören could walk around to the driver's seat. "Sören," he said, "you're dead on your feet. Let me drive to the campsite. It's not far, yeah?"
"Not that far." Sören shook his head. He shifted from one foot to the other, frowning a little, then he nodded, as if conceding defeat. "OK."
Anthony kept his eyes on the road - it was winter, it was night, he wasn't used to driving in Iceland - but every now and again he looked over at Sören, and as they got closer to the campsite he realized Sören had dozed off. He gently shook Sören when they arrived. Sören groaned as he got his body in gear.
The aurora started up again, and instead of getting right down to the sex in the bed in the back of the campervan, they cuddled, watching the green and cyan aurora through the sunroof. It was even darker out here at the campsite and the Milky Way was even more strongly visible, and the way the aurora weaved over the gleaming stars made Anthony's eyes tear up again, a tight ache in his chest. He wished Nigel could have lived to see this.
Anthony's eyes met Sören's, and it was as if Sören knew he was missing someone dear to him. The tears silently spilled down his cheeks and Sören nuzzled him, gently kissed his tears, then pulled Anthony close and began rocking him, petting him.
Anthony looked up just in time to see a shooting star. He tapped Sören and pointed. They lay back and watched it together, holding hands.
When the star had fallen, it was Anthony's turn to pull Sören close and pet him, feeling soft, and after a little while he heard a change in Sören's breath, slowing. The tiny snore confirmed that Sören had dozed off again.
Anthony sighed. He was aching for sex, especially these last few hours. But he knew Sören had an especially long day, running on such little sleep, and he couldn't fault Sören's body for finally giving into exhaustion after being relaxed by the hot spring, a good meal, and cuddles. He thought about waking Sören up, but he didn't want to be selfish, asking for sex when Sören was so worn out.
So he lay there, and watched Sören sleep in the glow of the aurora, like a nightlight, curled up in his arms. And though he was a bit disappointed that he wasn't going to get laid tonight, it was still another beautiful moment, to hold Sören safe like this and give him the rest he needed. Sören was like a statue or a painting brought to life, long lashes framing his cheeks, full lips slightly parted, halo of dark curls. Anthony studied him, drank him in, committing Sören's face to memory. Admiring him. Cherishing him, his outward beauty like an expression of his inner beauty.
Sex could happen another time. This was a moment of pure love.
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