[art by me and CogitatingKerfuffle, August 2021]
Anthony stirred awake and snuggled closer to Sören - warm and cozy; safe. He was reluctant to sit up and begin the starting-his-day process just yet, wanting a few more moments to rest and savor the sweetness of being next to Sören.
Then Anthony felt it; he was ragingly hard. There was morning wood and there was this. Anthony's cock was almost painful in its need, his balls tight and ready to explode. The weight and shape of Sören's body went from being comforting to being unbearably arousing.
It didn't help that he was so damn beautiful. Anthony watched him sleep in the faded blue pre-dawn twilight - the tousled curls, the long lashes, the full lips slightly parted, the cute little nose twitching. Sören's shoulders were bare; it was warm enough in the campervan and they had enough covers that they'd been able to sleep naked after their romp last night.
Anthony's eyes focused on the place where Sören's neck and shoulder met. The purple-yellow bruise... the scabbed-over teeth marks.
I did that. That was me.
Anthony's cock jolted as a shiver went down his spine; his breath hitched as he felt precum dripping down his shaft, already so hungry for Sören and they hadn't even touched yet. But for a moment he kept staring at the bite in disbelief. He'd held back when Sören was in heat - knotted, yes, claim-bitten, no, even though Anthony had wanted to so desperately and Sören had kept arching his neck, baring his throat, with that ache in his brown eyes. It was bad enough that Anthony had mated with Sören during his heat, and had caught feelings in the worst way, that was going to make his return to London that much more difficult. He had been trying to subdue the attachment out of fairness not just to himself but Sören, not wanting to "love em and leave em", thinking it was cruel to form a mating bond just to fly off over an ocean, going back to two separate lives.
Biting made it serious. They had catalyzed a physiological change, one that other Alphas and Omegas would be aware of. Indeed, Anthony couldn't see any scars on Sören's neck that would indicate he'd received a claiming bite before.
And yet, as much as it had been a bad, wildly impractical decision made in the heat of the moment, not thinking, just giving into those fierce, fiery feelings... Anthony had no regrets. He found himself lovingly tracing the bite mark with his thumb. He'd do it again.
He swallowed hard. He wanted more than just a fling. He didn't want this to be over when he went back to London. He didn't know how they'd make it work, and he felt ridiculous being this hung up on someone he'd known for only a week, but he wanted this more than anything he'd ever wanted in his life. Sören felt like his.
Touching the bite with his thumb made Sören gasp and open his eyes. Then Sören gave a sleepy smile. "Elskan," he mumbled.
Anthony's heart soared. He touched Sören's cheek, leaned in to kiss the tip of Sören's nose. Sören giggled, then yawned and stretched. They rubbed noses, and Sören moved in closer for a little kiss.
Anthony found himself kissing Sören back harder, his tongue in Sören's mouth. Sören moaned into the kiss, and Anthony's hand slid down from Sören's cheek, fingers brushing down Sören's throat, to let his hand wander over Sören's chest and stomach, every now and again straying to play with a nipple. He kissed Sören again and again, and started kissing Sören's neck, licking. Sören moaned again, and louder as Anthony began to grind against his thigh, hand still wandering up and down Sören's body.
"Want you," Anthony husked. He licked the bite he'd left last night.
Sören cried out, shuddering, and then he grabbed at Anthony with an urgent whimper. Anthony laughed softly and claimed his mouth again. Their tongues stroked, lashed, teased, and now Sören's hands were on him too, exploring. Anthony groaned and kissed Sören harder.
"Want you so fucking bad." Anthony nibbled at Sören's neck, licked it, then they kissed open-mouthed, tongues rubbing together. Anthony groaned as he felt Sören's hard cock against his.
"Elskan," Sören whispered again, throwing his arms around Anthony, moving closer against him, cock rubbing cock.
Anthony felt like he was going to lose his mind. There were so many things to do with Sören's body, and he wanted them all, but of course he couldn't have all of them at once. He had to pick one. As much as he loved being knotted inside Sören, they would undoubtedly do that several more times before he went back to London on the second. As their mouths met again, tongues licking, Anthony decided he wanted - needed - to commit Sören's taste to memory, for the potentially long drought ahead.
Anthony kissed down Sören's neck, over the bite wound, to Sören's nipples. He lapped and suckled at one as he pinched and stroked the other, cock throbbing at the sight of Sören's pierced nipples swollen, glistening. Wondering what those nipples would be like full of milk, for his pups.
Jesus Christ, you're thinking about pups already.
Anthony tugged a nipple ring with his teeth, making Sören cry out, and then he laved it, soothing, pleasing. He did the same to the other. He sucked on them harder, making Sören writhe, arching to him, whispering "please, elskan, please..."
Anthony wished he could spend all day feasting on Sören's nipples for hours, seeing how far he could push Sören to that brink, if he could make Sören come just from having those sensitive, lovely nipples sucked. One day he hoped to test that. For now... he needed too much. He pulled back the covers and slid down, kissing, licking, and nibbling Sören's stomach. Down to a thigh, and back up. Across Sören's stomach to the other thigh. Sören's moans got louder. Anthony looked between Sören's legs, saw his hole winking, dripping slick. The delicious scent made Anthony crazy. He dove in, licking up the clear, sweet juices, moaning into Sören's passage. Sören bucked, screaming. Anthony growled and lapped harder, faster.
Soon Sören was fucking himself on Anthony's tongue, panting, whimpering, as Anthony licked for all he was worth, loving the sweetness of him, his new favorite dessert. He let Sören see him licking his lips, chin glistening, before he went back in, tongue swirling slower, savoring him. Sören howled and sobbed, started babbling in Icelandic, and Anthony reached down to stroke himself, not able to help it, electrified by Sören's broken cries, the debauchery of it all.
At last Anthony kissed up Sören's thigh, and took a long lick down Sören's shaft, tasting his precum. With their eyes locked, Anthony drew Sören's cock into his mouth and began sucking slowly, ever so slowly, teasing them both. Anthony stroked himself as he sucked, and his free hand played over Sören's body, caressing his chest, stomach, thigh, rubbing Sören's balls. When he felt Sören's balls tighten, and Sören began to gasp for breath, eyes wide, wild, Anthony's fingers brushed the sensitive place between balls and ass, then worked in and out of Sören's passage, rubbing that nub inside him as he sucked harder, hungry for it. Sören tensed, trembling, and seethed through clenched teeth. His eyes rolled. "Oh god. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod, Anthony..."
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm."
"Elskan!" Sören threw his head back, gasped, and let out a sob as he flooded Anthony's mouth. Sören's hole contracted around Anthony's fingers and Anthony groaned at the feel of Sören's slick gushing over his hand. Anthony swallowed down Sören's cum, loving it, and licked him clean. Anthony's cock was aching for relief, but instead of bringing himself off right then he knew it would be worth the wait if he gave Sören a chance to recover. He scooted up and took Sören in his arms, raining kisses over his face, then kissing his mouth, letting Sören taste himself. Sören murmured with pleasure and giggled, his face lit up.
"Oh god, that was awesome." Sören sighed happily, flexing his fingers and toes, reminding Anthony of a contented cat kneading. "I love good-morning blowjobs." Sören kissed him and they rubbed noses; Anthony smiled, feeling euphoric at the bliss on Sören's face. He loved making Sören happy. You deserve it.
"I wish we could do this every morning," Sören said, and then his hand covered his mouth, like he'd spoken without thinking and had said something he shouldn't.
But Anthony's heart soared, giddy that Sören felt the same way, that he wasn't rejecting the claiming bite last night. It seemed Sören wanted this as much as he did. Anthony took Sören's hand away from his mouth, kissed it tenderly, and then his mouth was on Sören's, kissing fiercely, wanting Sören to feel the desire and acceptance in that kiss. "Me too," Anthony husked, and kissed him again.
They kissed and kissed - Sören's cock was hard again and Anthony moaned at the feel of Sören's cock rubbing against his. This was exactly why he had waited rather than gratifying himself right away. He reached down between them and took both their cocks into his fist, gripping them tight. The vise-like grip of his fist and the velvet steel of Sören's cock rubbing against his brought him right back to that edge. Sören clung to him, panting, moaning louder and louder. Soon Sören was there too, quivering, pupils blown wide, gasping.
"You gonna come with me?" Anthony rasped.
Sören just nodded.
Anthony kissed him again and a few strokes later they climaxed together, cock creaming cock. They looked down, moaning, watching the cum flow over their cocks, Anthony's cock shooting on Sören's again then Sören's shooting on Anthony's, cum frothing, blending. They kissed again and then Anthony let go of their cocks, scooped up their mingled cum with his fingers, and brought it to Sören's lips. Sören licked and sucked the cum from Anthony's fingers - Anthony had a strong aftershock watching the erotic sight of it - and after another kiss, Sören did the same, his fingers in Anthony's mouth. Anthony sucked on Sören's fingers like it was a cock, another aftershock going through him. He licked Sören's fingers clean, enjoying the lingering taste of them, and then they kissed open-mouthed, tongues teasing, sharing that taste, enjoying every last bit of it.
Anthony laughed, head spinning, body melting to jelly. He snuggled up to Sören and sighed deeply. That powerful orgasm had been so worth the wait. He listened to Sören's heartbeat and Sören pet his hair, rubbed his back.
As they lay there in the afterglow, the sun began to rise through the sunroof. They watched the golden light kiss the sky and the nearby Skógafoss, the sky a dreamy haze of soft pinks and blues.
When the sunrise faded to the pale blue of early morning, Anthony and Sören got dressed, bundled up, and headed to the campsite. They made coffee, bacon and eggs in the kitchen, then freshened up in the bathroom, brushing their teeth together, making silly faces at each other in the mirror. After all of that, they walked out to the Skógafoss.
Iceland was full of waterfalls, and Anthony had seen a few of them now, but it never got old - each one was different. Anthony thought this was the crown jewel of them all, a drop of sixty meters and a width of twenty-five meters. Even from several meters back they were sprayed with fine mist, and the sunshine touched the falls and made the biggest and most beautiful, vivid rainbow Anthony had ever seen.
Anthony took Sören's hand and squeezed. This was one of the most magical moments in what had been a week full of them. There was something so intimate about witnessing all these little miracles with someone else, someone who got it, where it wasn't just pretty sightseeing but something more. Anthony once again felt that possessive Alpha surge kick in, thinking about the claiming bite last night, thinking about how he wanted to see where this would go with someone who had brought magic and color and life back to his life.
"That's a nice big gay rainbow," Sören said, grinning.
"See," Anthony said, trying to make light of the too-intense feelings that made his eyes tear up, "even the waterfall knows I'm falling in love with you."
Sören was silent, poker faced, and for the briefest instant Anthony thought he was done for, that despite all of the passion between them, things were coming to a screeching halt, this was too creepy. And then Sören turned to him, face as bright as the sun, and he said, "Hi Falling In Love With You, I'm -"
"You shit." Anthony grabbed Sören's face and kissed him hard.
Sören kissed him back, giggling, then he threw his arms around Anthony and started rocking him. They spun around, and Sören's laughter rang out, echoing. Sören touched Anthony's face, Sören's own eyes misty, and he husked, "Ég elska þig líka."
They kissed again, and again. The rainbow sparkled, the waterfall roared, like Anthony had painted and sculpted his feelings for Sören into being.
He didn't know what would happen next, but for right now, it was enough to know Sören felt the same way. It was enough to bask in the beautiful sunshine of Sören's love, in that sweet, radiant smile.
_
On the thirtieth, Sören took Anthony to do more sightseeing in Reykjavik, including going on a ferry to do whale watching in the afternoon, and they did in fact see a whale fluke.
As Anthony observed the whale - something he'd never seen in-person in his life, another little wonder - he started to entertain the possibility of moving to Reykjavik. He never thought he'd be seriously considering leaving London for good, his home, to live someplace else, especially someplace so radically different. But he hadn't just fallen in love with a beautiful Icelander, he'd fallen in love with the country.
When they went back to Sören's flat, Sören got dinner started and Anthony opened his laptop to check his e-mail, which he'd been avoiding for the last several days. While he was online, he opened a new tab and Googled information on moving to Iceland. Naturally, immigrating to Iceland was going to be complicated but it was even more complicated than Anthony realized - to gain Icelandic citizenship he would have to pass a language test, and he would be required to change his name - thankfully Anthony was legally approved by the Icelandic government as a given name, but he would have to change his surname from Hewlett-Johnson to the patronymic Hróðgeirsson, Hróðgeir being the Icelandic equivalent of Roger.
Anthony stroked his chin. He'd majored in linguistics, he loved languages, but he knew Icelandic was closer to Old Norse than any modern Scandinavian languages, and he felt intimidated by the language requirement. He also knew his father would probably bristle a bit about him dropping Hewlett-Johnson, not to mention the way his name Roger became Hróðgeir in Icelandic. Neither of those things were a dealbreaker, though - they were sacrifices he'd be willing to make to build a life with Sören.
But he could only achieve citizenship after seven years of residence, or four years if he was married to an Icelandic national... and even then, him staying in the country longer than a few months would be contingent on employment or university. Doing some more research in another tab, Anthony found out there was one lawyer for every three hundred residents, so Iceland was not exactly in need of more barristers. He very likely would need to go back to school and prepare for a career change.
As passionately as he felt for Sören, that was a lot.
Anthony took a few deep breaths as he closed out the tabs and put his laptop to sleep. He really wanted to see where this went, but it was becoming apparent that him making the move to Iceland was not the most practical arrangement of the deal, and he felt guilty about asking Sören to consider uprooting.
He kept his thoughts - and the discomfort surrounding them - to himself during dinner, not wanting to put a damper on Sören's cheerful mood. And soon enough he was distracted, with Sören wanting a night of slow, sensual lovemaking and cuddling.
They slept late the next day, and when they woke up they used what was left of the daylight to do more sightseeing. Anthony took Sören out to dinner as the sun set, and after dinner they got in a cuddle nap at Sören's flat before it was time to get ready to watch the fireworks, with travel to hot spots being slower going than usual because of the crowds who also wanted to see the fireworks.
Anthony and Sören chose Hallgrimskirkja as their spot for the fireworks show. The stained glass windows of the church were beautiful lit up in the night. Anthony put his arms around Sören as they waited, and Sören scooted back closer against him, which felt so wonderfully cozy and sweet that it made Anthony tear up. All too soon he would have to leave London, and there were still too many uncertainties between them - but as his arms tightened around Sören he thought to himself, Love will find a way.
He hung onto that as the sky began to explode in wheels of color. Sören clapped excitedly and flailed his arms, which Anthony found adorable.
The fireworks got bigger and bigger, with more complex color patterns. Reykjavik really knew how to put on a fireworks show, the sky dazzling in its flowers of fire. When the countdown to midnight started - the countdown to 2008 - Sören turned to Anthony, grabbed him, and said, "Make a wish."
You, Anthony thought to himself.
Anthony took Sören's face in his hands and kissed him hard, feelings exploding like the grand finale of the fireworks, wheels upon wheels, full of light. Sören moaned into the kiss, yielding. It felt like the crowd wasn't there anymore, kissing until it was just them, nothing else.
"Happy new year," Anthony husked, looking into Sören's eyes.
"Gleðilegt nýtt ár, elskan."
Anthony stroked Sören's cheek. That kiss had gotten him going, and he could smell Sören's own arousal. They needed to get out of here before Anthony was tempted to maul him in public.
They managed to behave themselves until they got to the building of Sören's apartment complex. As soon as they walked through to the front lobby, they were kissing each other again, groping, feverish. Anthony marched Sören down the hall to his door, kissing all the way, not caring who saw them, who might judge them, he wanted, he needed.
The minute they got inside Sören's flat, they began frantically pulling off their outerwear, letting it fall haphazardly to the floor. Then their clothing, tossing it aside, reaching out to caress newly exposed flesh, stealing hungry kisses. Once they were nude Anthony took Sören into his arms, their hard cocks pressed together, and ran his hands over Sören's body, kissing him fiercely, then kissing and licking his neck. Sören whimpered, trembled.
"Now," Sören begged. "Right now, I need you now -"
Anthony led them to the couch. Sören didn't even bother folding it out to a bed. He shoved Anthony down, and once Anthony was sitting, Sören climbed onto his lap, straddled, sank down on Anthony's cock. Sören was already so wet, and Anthony groaned with pleasure at the feel of that warm, wet silk enfolding him, embracing him, giving. When Anthony was all the way in, he wrapped his arms around Sören and kissed him hard.
Sören rode feverishly, grabbing onto Anthony white-knuckled, as Anthony held him, hands moving up and down Sören's sensitive spine. They kissed and kissed, panting, gasping for breath between kisses, eyes locked. Anthony's knot was so full, so strong. The scent of their sex filled the room, the deliciously sloppy sound of Anthony's cock in and out of Sören's passage getting as loud as Sören's cries. Anthony smacked Sören's ass, rubbed it, slapped it again, and Sören went wild, riding even harder, whining, keening.
Anthony was right there, but he made himself hold back, wanting Sören's pleasure first. It was getting more and more difficult, lost in the beauty of Sören's body, the fluid grace as he worked his hips... the burning passion in Sören's brown eyes, the sweet full lips parted to let out little broken cries. Anthony started kissing Sören's neck again, pulled Sören closer to him and licked and sucked at a nipple, playing with the other, knowing how sensitive Sören's nipples were, wanting to bring him to that edge too.
After going back and forth between Sören's nipples a few times, Sören tensed and clutched him, hands squeezing Anthony's arms so tight it almost hurt. "Elskan, I'm so close."
"Yes, baby." Anthony grabbed Sören's face and kissed him again, their tongues mirroring the way Anthony was moving inside him, Sören against him. "Want to make you come, sweetheart."
"So close." Sören shuddered, bit his lip, and gave an urgent whine.
"That's it, baby." Anthony kissed and licked Sören's neck, and a hand slid down to Sören's cock, rubbing up and down the shaft, teasing. "Come for me." And then it happened again - Anthony found himself biting Sören's neck, re-opening the bite wound he'd put there, tasting the metallic tang of Sören's blood. He growled.
"Elskan!" Sören threw back his head and let out a long, wordless cry.
"Mine." Anthony licked the bite.
Sören's cum splashed his chest, and Anthony groaned at the feel of Sören's passage contracting around him, pulsing. Then Sören leaned in and to his surprise and delight, Sören bit Anthony's neck right back, the sweet hollow where neck met shoulder.
Anthony climaxed harder than he'd ever come in his life, shooting and shooting and shooting - he didn't know he had so much cum. Throbbing so hard it made him cry, shattering something in him. Relief and euphoria cascaded, swirled, soared.
"Mine," Sören whispered, and licked the bleeding bite. "Þú ert minn."
Anthony kissed him, and they moaned into the kiss, tasting each other's blood. Blood of my blood. Anthony felt like the world was spinning, like he was a firework now, exploding with light, the fire he felt for the Omega in his arms. His Omega. Sören was his, and he was Sören's, they had claimed each other.
"I love you," Anthony said, meaning it. It had been a week; it felt like an eternity. They were still getting to know each other, but they knew. They just fit together. It was right. So very right.
"Elska þig."
Anthony loved that, the most beautiful words in the universe. The most beautiful eyes, the window to the soul.
He held Sören tight, Sören's head resting on his shoulder, as their hearts thundered in the same rhythm, coming down from the intense orgasm. Anthony stroked Sören's curls, rocked him. The release made him tear up again, loving so fiercely, feeling vulnerable at the knowledge that in just over 24 hours he was flying away.
Sören picked his head up and brushed Anthony's tears with his fingers, kissed them. "Oh god, elskan. Are you all right?"
"I don't want to go back to London, but I have to." Anthony let out a shuddery sigh. "I'm so sorry. I claimed you, you claimed me, and I have to leave and it isn't right -"
"Jæja." Sören exhaled. "I've been thinking about that too, and..."
"I want this, Sören. I want you, I want to see where this goes, but it's hard to have a long-distance relationship. It's going to be harder still because, well... I looked up the logistics of moving out here, there's one lawyer for every three hundred people, so I'd have to look at changing jobs, and I could do that, but I went into law because it's a calling. I fight to get justice for the innocent, mercy for those who made bad choices because they didn't have better options. If I leave that behind, if I stop fighting for people, it's going to be hard on me."
"I get it." Sören nodded.
"And... you work nights, and weekends, which makes something like us scheduling chat sessions harder. Makes it harder for me to try to fly out once a month or so to see you, or vice versa. I might not get here on time the next time you go into heat -"
Sören put up a hand. Anthony stopped talking, and hoped Sören wasn't going to push him away.
"Like I said, I've been thinking about everything and..." Sören closed his eyes, then looked up, like he was in silent prayer, before their eyes met again. "If you want to do this, I'll move to London."
Anthony's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe it - he found himself thinking, madly, of Arwen deciding to become mortal for the love of Aragorn. Sören was going to leave the beauty and enchantment of this land behind for him. It felt unfair, and yet Anthony couldn't bear to be without him.
"I'm going to need to find work," Sören said, "so if you can help me, if you have connections at all -"
Anthony rubbed his head, thinking for a moment, and then things clicked in his brain. "My mum is an architect, her work circles overlap with a lot of artsy-fartsy people. She probably has a friend who owns a gallery and could get you a job as a gallery curator if that wasn't too boring for you."
Sören threw his head back and laughed. "I don't think having to discuss and preserve art for a living could ever be boring. That sounds like my dream job, next to making art full-time."
"Eventually you could do that, once you had British citizenship. In the meantime, though..." Anthony tousled Sören's curls, elated that it was all coming together. "I can talk to my mum, I'm sure she'll be happy to help."
Sören gave him a hug. "How soon do you think we can get this in motion?"
"Possibly as soon as a couple of weeks, to a month."
"OK. I'll put in notice at work, and start packing... and paring down things I don't need. Can I ship my canvases out to you, for you to hold onto till I get there?"
"You can. Hell, I'd like to hang them all in my flat." Anthony took Sören's hands in his. "Our flat, if you don't mind living with me."
"So we can have sex whenever we want? I don't know, Anthony, that sounds terrible, you might have to twist my arm." Sören stuck his tongue out.
Anthony smacked Sören's ass, then he squeezed Sören tight, the two of them holding each other, rocking together, crying tears of joy. This was really happening. He'd made a wish, and it had already come true. 2008 promised to be the best year of his life.
Note: In our world, Iceland hasn't had the requirement for immigrants to change their names since 1996. This is an alternate universe where the law is still in effect.
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