[art by SemperViridis, August 2021]
As Sören made his way to the baggage claim in Heathrow, his heart hammered in his ears, his mouth dry. He knew his anxiety had a sharper edge from the flight across the ocean - all nineteen hundred kilometers of it - but he would be anxious anyway. Today was the first day of his new life.
He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together, walking to the carousel. For a brief second he hoped desperately that Anthony wasn't going to get cold feet at the very last minute, tell him he changed his mind, after all the trouble Sören had gone to of packing and pruning, shipping some items - like his paintings - out for Anthony to hold onto... getting the work visa with the sponsorship from Anthony's mum Elaine's friend Liz, who owned a gallery in Bermondsey where Sören would start work as a curator in a fortnight's time.
But he knew Anthony wasn't like that. If he'd had any doubt at all he wouldn't have offered to uproot his entire life, leave the land he loved, for this. To remind himself of that, Sören found himself reaching for his neck, thumb rubbing the scar that Anthony had left with claiming bites.
It was the end of January now. Sören and Anthony had worked around their respective schedules to chat, with some of those chat sessions getting hot and heavy; they had also sent each other loving and passionate e-mails. Sören had masturbated more within the last month than he had in the last year - just thinking about the way they'd bitten each other, claimed each other, was heating Sören's blood again. Soon. Very soon -
"Sören!"
Anthony was several meters away, and began frantically waving, flailing around like a big dork. Sören raised his arms and waved back, equally dorky. Anthony lost his last shred of dignity and ran over to join Sören at the baggage claim. Not caring who was watching and disapproving, Anthony grabbed Sören, pulled him close, and kissed him like he was starving for it. Sören whimpered into the kiss, instantly going hard and slick as he breathed in his Alpha's scent, felt Anthony's body on his.
"Elskan." Sören touched Anthony's face, tears in his eyes. This was real. This was happening.
Sören's flight had arrived in London just after five PM - Anthony had come to Heathrow straight from court to pick him up. He wasn't wearing the wig, which Sören was slightly disappointed by, but under his greatcoat he had on the robes, and Sören found that strangely appealing.
Anthony kissed him again. "I've missed you so much."
Sören swallowed hard, blinking back tears, not wanting to cause a scene more than they were already making. "I've missed you too."
"We'll make up for lost time tonight. I'm taking tomorrow off from work." Anthony nipped at Sören's earlobe, making Sören giggle and shiver, slick dripping.
"We have to behave," Sören said, putting an arm around Anthony, leading him closer to the carousel. "Besides, I need to keep an eye out for my bags."
"OK."
They waited, and waited, and waited. After what felt like an eternity, when Sören started to fear that his luggage had been misplaced and was probably on its way to France by now, he saw it coming down the conveyor belt - because Sören's suitcases were basic black and looked like everyone else's, he'd purposely tied curly, glittery gift-wrap ribbons in neon colors to the handles. Anthony threw his head back and laughed as he watched Sören reach for the suitcases with a riot of sparkly rainbow curls.
"Holy shit," Anthony said.
"Hey, this way I know they're mine." Sören smirked, not able to resist teasing Anthony a little. "It's easy to tell what belongs to me, it's ridiculous and super gay."
Anthony narrowed his eyes, then he laughed again, gave Sören another kiss, and a playful ass smack, right there in public. Sören giggled and elbowed him.
Even though Sören was perfectly capable of wheeling them himself, Anthony took Sören's suitcases and led the way through the airport out to the parking lot. It was a long journey, made longer still by the fact that Sören had been up since early in the morning. The blue dusk of the early January night was pierced by the artificial light of the parking lot, and Sören winced as he heard the sonic boom of a plane taking off.
Anthony had a black Audi, which Sören somehow wasn't surprised by. Once Sören's luggage was in the trunk, Anthony joined him in the front seat. "Hi, beautiful," Anthony husked.
"Hey beautiful yourself."
Anthony smiled. He leaned over and kissed Sören. One kiss became another, and another, and soon they were feverishly groping; Sören moaned as Anthony began kissing his neck. The car smelled delicious and Sören realized that wasn't an air freshener, that was Anthony. His Alpha. Sören had missed that scent so much. Now he breathed deep, like he was huffing it to get high, clutching at him desperately, wanting him right here right now...
Just as their mouths clashed again, tongues playing, Sören's stomach growled. Anthony chuckled and pulled back, catching his breath. Sören gave a little whimper of protest, and Anthony tousled Sören's curls. "I would be a bad Alpha if I didn't take care of my mate," Anthony said. "So... let's get you fed. Are you in the mood for anything in particular?"
Sören gave him a pointed look.
Anthony turned beetroot and shook with silent laughter that quickly became less silent, bubbling out of him. "You're terrible. Jesus, I really have missed you."
"I love you too."
Anthony stole another kiss, and before they could fall on each other, Sören's stomach growled again and Anthony started the engine. Sören sat back with a sigh, disappointed, but he knew that Anthony would be worth the wait... and he really did need to eat food. He hadn't eaten since the early morning, grabbing a granola bar as he left his flat for the last time.
"We have a bit of a ways to go," Anthony explained. "I live in Holborn, which is an hour's drive. If you think about what kind of food you'd like, there are different kinds of restaurants closer to home and we can stop there."
Sören was too tired from the post-flight adrenaline crash to really think of something - and too horny, just wanting Anthony's cock in his mouth - but he decided on the last leg of the motorway route that fish and chips sounded fine. Anthony broke his rule about not eating in the car, since he knew Sören didn't want to deal with crowds at the pub after being in crowds all day with the airports, and he didn't want to make Sören wait till they got to his flat. It started to rain as they ate, and Anthony turned on the windshield wipers... and a CD he had in the car stereo. Sören smiled as "Everyday" by Jamiroquai came on.
"This is weirdly romantic," Sören said.
Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose.
It was, indeed, a romantic setting with the rain falling, eating together after a long day, leaning on each other as they watched the rain and listened to a slow, sensual love song. Towards the end Sören found himself laughing a little.
"What?"
"When we met you were singing along with The Smiths. I wouldn't have pegged you for a Jamiroquai fan."
"Oh, I did have a goth phase." Anthony's cheeks were pink. "I had kind of this Robert Smith hairdo and everything. Spent stupid amounts of money on eye makeup."
Sören roared with laughter, delighted by the mental image. "You're joking, right?"
"No, I've... got pictures. I'll show you when we get home."
Sören noticed Anthony was calling it home and not my place, implying that already Anthony thought of it as both their place. That seemed like it would be obvious, as Sören's plans for moving to London included them living together, but it was still comforting anyway.
"So what happened? You're clearly not a goth anymore." Sören looked Anthony up and down.
"I like some of the music still, obviously, you heard me when I was drunk, but I expanded my horizons. Went to some gay clubs, and things. And yeah, I had to stop with the hair and the makeup to look professional for my law career. It's just as well. I looked bloody ridiculous."
"So that ribbon comparison really was apt."
"You know..." Anthony attempted to shove a chip up Sören's nose. Sören ducked, howling with laughter, then stuck a wet finger in Anthony's ear.
Sören felt tingly with excitement when they pulled into the parking lot of Anthony's apartment complex. The tingling became a buzz, Sören ready to jump out of his skin, as they went down the hall to Anthony's first-floor flat. As soon as they walked in, Anthony closed the door behind them then shoved Sören up against the wall, pinning Sören's wrists as he gave Sören a deep, hungry kiss that made Sören's cock throb, his hole twitch, aching.
But Sören couldn't resist being a brat. "So, can I see those pictures of you as a goth now?"
Anthony scowled, though his eyes were laughing.
"I've waited all day, what's a few more minutes?" Sören grinned.
Anthony growled, then he kissed Sören again. His hands reached for Sören's jeans, quickly undoing them; a shiver went down Sören's spine, body screaming for Anthony's touch.
"I've waited all month," Anthony rasped, and started kissing Sören's neck. Licked the scar from his claiming bite, which made Sören shudder, cock jolting, slick gushing. Their eyes met and Anthony said, "I've waited a lifetime."
Now it was Sören to grab Anthony, frantically peeling off Anthony's greatcoat, rucking up his barrister's court robe. They undressed each other and as soon as they were both naked, hard for each other, scent overpowering, Sören pushed Anthony right down onto the floor and straddled him, needing him here and now. Nothing else mattered.
Sören sank down on Anthony's cock, crying out at the wonderful feeling of being filled, the man he loved fitting him so perfectly.
"Welcome home," Anthony husked, and pulled Sören into a kiss as he took his first thrust.
_
The next day was Thursday, and true to his word, Anthony took the day off so he could continue giving Sören a proper homecoming. They had made love late into the wee hours of the morning, and slept until almost noon. After a shower and breakfast, they went back to bed and spent the day sucking and fucking, not able to get enough.
On Friday, Anthony had to go back to work, and it gave Sören a chance to get acquainted with the flat and Anthony's neighborhood. Anthony had gone grocery shopping the day before Sören's arrival to make sure they were well-stocked, but Sören still took a walk to Tesco to pick up a few odds and ends, and when Anthony returned from a day at court, dinner was just about ready. Anthony was delighted to see Sören had picked up salmon at the supermarket, with a side of baked potatoes and steamed asparagus. Sören felt a surge of pride as Anthony enjoyed the food and complimented him profusely. Left to his own devices, Sören tended to make quick, simple meals - it was nice to have someone else to cook for, which gave him an excuse to treat food like an art form.
The tender loving care didn't stop there. After the meal they took a walk, with Sören pointing out the things in the neighborhood he'd noticed - a cluster of trees, with two trees twined together, a bench on which someone had scrawled lyrics from John Lennon's "Imagine".
"It's like seeing it for the first time," Anthony said, squeezing Sören's hand. "I go by these things every day and they don't register."
"It's all new to me," Sören said, smiling.
Back at the flat, they showered together and then Sören warmed oil and gave Anthony a massage, wanting to spoil him after being at work all day, the tense arguing in court. Anthony was always tightly wound, ready to spring - it felt like his knots had knots - and Sören smiled with satisfaction as he felt those knots melt away to his touch, rubbing, kneading, soothing. When Anthony lay on his back, the massage turned into more of a caress, and Sören began to idly play with his cock as one hand worked over him. At last Sören took that cock in his mouth, sucking slowly, languidly, like he had all the time in the world. Sören thought Anthony was so beautiful when he came, sighing, his face euphoric. And when Anthony had recharged, Sören rode him - this was becoming their favorite position - and Sören had an intense, shattering orgasm for being so worked up, so aroused by Anthony's body, Anthony's pleasure.
As they lay there in the afterglow, Anthony pet Sören's curls, looking deep in thought. Sören finally tapped his shoulder. "Jæja?"
"Oh. Well... you took a little tour of the neighborhood today, how about tomorrow I take you on a proper tour of London? There's too much to see in one day, and since you're living here now we don't need to cram it all in -"
Sören's mind went in the gutter. He crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. Anthony caught it and spanked Sören's ass, laughing; Sören cackled too and kissed the tip of his nose.
"But maybe tomorrow I can take you to see some of the more famous landmarks, the ones everyone knows about. Like, I can show you Big Ben -"
Sören couldn't resist the opportunity; he wiggled his eyebrows. "Is that what you're calling it now."
Anthony facepalmed, heaving and wheezing, face beetroot. When he pulled his hand away from his face his eyes were teary, and his grin was infectious. "Why are you like this?"
"You love it."
"I do." Anthony gave him a little kiss. "I love you."
Sören sighed and gave him a squeeze, nuzzling him. He would never get tired of hearing it. "I love you too."
Even though Sören wasn't a morning person, he still managed to get up the next day without too much grumbling. It was a beautiful crisp, clear day, with just enough snow on the ground to be picturesque, not so much to make walking about difficult, and because of the lovely day, Anthony suggested they walk to Big Ben rather than take the car, as it was only just over half-an-hour on foot. Sören agreed, and so when they were ready they took the walk through Holborn into Covent Garden, into Westminster.
Big Ben in-person was even more impressive than in a photo. Sören loved architecture and took awhile to walk around, examining the building from different angles, taking pictures. Anthony smiled at Sören's exuberance, giving him a big kiss in front of all the tourists when Sören had his fill of observation.
From Big Ben they visited the Houses of Parliament, an equally impressive structure, and more photo opportunities. They also visited Westminster Abbey, another architectural treat. For a touch of history and culture they visited the Imperial War Museum and Churchill War Rooms, and the National Gallery.
Sören was both amused and bemused by Buckingham Palace. "It's so weird to live in a country with a royal family," Sören said. "Iceland doesn't have one - the other Nordic countries do, but we can't be arsed with any of that. Our President and Prime Minister are regular people."
"You sound like you disapprove of the royal family."
"They cost people a fortune in taxes for... what, exactly? What do they do, besides give paparazzi someone to gossip about?"
"Well..." Anthony tousled Sören's curls. "It's an institution here and a bit of a controversial topic so maybe don't let other people hear you say that."
Sören blew a raspberry. They watched the changing of the guard - Sören found it fascinating in a trainwreck sort of way. "Nice hats," he told the guardsmen on their way out.
They walked down the Thames for a bit, admiring the way the serene blue sky reflected in the river. It felt surreal, with how different London was from Reykjavik - a difference Sören knew to expect before he moved here, but now he was walking in it. Everything was new and strange, unsettling and wonderful all at once. Sören found himself insatiably curious, looking around and around, taking in every detail that he could, feeling completely immersed, a little overwhelmed but in a good way. Already the gears in his mind were turning, wanting to paint, wanting to capture the ancient magic that still thrummed in the heart of an old city, hidden to all but a very few. The idea of kelpies in the Thames or Father Time taking on the shape of Big Ben tickled him.
They went back, and started thinking of where to have lunch - a choice between The Red Lion or St. James's Cafe. The Red Lion was more famous, so they went there, each of them ordering a club sandwich with chips, and splitting a platter of nachos. They played footsie under the table and Sören started feeling amorous again, but they had one last stop before heading back, a visit to St. James's Park.
They were in time to watch the pelican feeding. Sören giggled at the way the pelicans snorted and grunted as they chased after the fish, the way their gullets wobbled. "I love it," Sören said, clapping, doing a happy little bounce. "They're so cute."
"You're cute." Anthony booped Sören's nose.
The walk back to Holborn was slower, and they reached their flat just as the sky was starting to gleam gold with the first touch of sunset. Anthony made a "come here" gesture and led Sören up five flights of stairs - taking breaks here and there so Sören could catch his breath, with his asthma - and once they got to the top, it was all worth it. They were on the roof of the apartment building, with an amazing view of the city of London, stretching out all the way across Holborn and Covent Garden. There was a bench and they sat together, watching the blue of the sky deepen, spread with plumes of orange and scarlet and violet.
"I know the sunset isn't as impressive as the ones you see in Iceland, but it's still nice," Anthony said, taking Sören's hand.
"Oh, elskan. It's a lot more than nice." Sören sighed and put his head on Anthony's shoulder - he got the feeling Anthony probably felt self-conscious about London compared to Reykjavik, a hint of guilt about Sören moving just for him. "Wherever you are, elskan, everything is beautiful to me."
Anthony kissed Sören's cheek.
"Besides... like I said, this is all new to me. And... the thing I love about sunsets is that they're all different. It doesn't matter whether I'm in Iceland, or here. No two sunsets are alike. It's a new experience every time. It never gets old, to me, to watch the sunset and see how the sky changes, a whole new pattern and palette of colors. I could see it a thousand times and it would still be something new and beautiful and magical each time." Sören turned to Anthony, stroked his face. "That's how I feel about living here with you, us growing old together. Every day I rediscover you and your ways and fall in love with you all over again."
Anthony grabbed Sören's face and kissed him. Sören kissed him back, cock stirring, getting wet for him, after holding back all day.
Anthony got up and pulled Sören to his feet - the sunset hadn't finished yet, but their need was too great. "I really want to make love to you," he husked.
"Please."
They hurried down to their flat, kissing as soon as they got inside. When they were both shirtless, Anthony came around behind Sören, began kissing and licking Sören's sensitive neck, knowing just how to tease him. Anthony stuck a finger in Sören's mouth, his other hand reaching down Sören's cargo pants and boxer-briefs, and Sören cried out around Anthony's finger as Anthony kissed the bite scar, an exquisitely erogenous place.
"Oh god, fuck me," Sören moaned.
"Mmmmm." Anthony licked the bite scar, and up Sören's neck. "I want to savor you, I want to take you in like the way you looked at the city, the way you watch the sunset. You are my sunset, my aurora, my fire."
Tears burned Sören's eyes - he could not love this man more, with his sensitive, poetic heart. Sören whirled around and kissed him fiercely, and began marching him to the bedroom.
When they were naked, Sören pushed Anthony onto his back. He knew just how to let Anthony savor him, how to let Anthony watch him burn like the sky. Not a massage this time, but something more directly himself.
Sören was dripping slick, his thighs soaking with it. He straddled Anthony's hips, but instead of sinking down on his cock, he scooted back and began to rub his ass against Anthony's thigh, letting the slick flow out of him and over Anthony's skin like it was oil. He worked his hips, rubbing and rubbing, moving down to Anthony's knee, and back up. When he went back down to Anthony's knee, Anthony looked and saw his thigh glistening from Sören's slick and his breath hitched.
Sören rubbed up and down Anthony's calf, slicking that as well, then climbed on the other leg, riding it, rubbing it, up to the knee, and over the thigh. The scent of Sören's Omega arousal and his slick was powerful, and Anthony licked his lips at it, giving an appreciative little moan.
"That's right, elskan," Sören whispered, letting his fingers play over Anthony's stomach and chest, before he scooted up and started rubbing against Anthony's stomach. Slick felt like it was pouring out of him now, and Anthony groaned. "I'm marking you as mine."
"Oh, fuck." Anthony shuddered. "This is so fucking hot."
"You're fucking hot." Sören bit his lower lip.
Anthony was already leaking precum, and he scooped some onto his fingers and stuck them in Sören's mouth. Sören sucked Anthony's fingers as he continued rubbing against Anthony's stomach, then up his chest, slicking him, spreading his scent all over his Alpha. Anthony moaned, breathing harder, trembling with desire. After a few minutes he let his fingers slip from Sören's mouth and now his hands wandered over Sören's body, playing with his nipples, brushing, walking over Sören's stomach and thighs.
"You're beautiful," Anthony breathed.
"You're mine." Sören leaned down to give him a deep, needy kiss, then resumed rubbing, slick flowing, marking, claiming.
When neither of them could take it anymore, Anthony guided Sören's hips back and watched as Sören took his cock inch by inch. Sören cried out when he felt Anthony fully inside him, so sweet, so right. He rode slowly, wanting to make it last, but that knot was too good and soon Sören was bucking, feverish, going out of his mind with lust and sensation. Anthony slapped Sören's ass, leaned in to suckle Sören's nipples, lap them, bite them, hands playing over Sören's stomach and thighs.
They were both right there, clinging to each other, panting, gasping, shivering. Their eyes met and Sören gave an urgent little whimper, feeling like he was going to die if he didn't come, but he needed to keep feeling that knot rubbing inside him, hitting his sweet spot over and over again, needed to be lost in that space where nothing mattered but their fuck and the filthy, delicious sound of their bodies slapping together, the wet suctioning of that cock plunging away...
"Come for me." Anthony kissed Sören's bite scar, then bit it again, and that did it, sending Sören over the edge, screaming as the pleasure bolted through him.
Still coming, throbbing, Sören bit Anthony's neck right back, with a growl of his own. Anthony let out a broken cry as he spilled deep into Sören, and then their mouths met, tasting each other's blood. They took each other's hands, pulsing in the same rhythm; Sören felt like they were one.
They held each other, rocking together, as Anthony rested inside him, still knotted. Anthony rubbed Sören's back and they nuzzled, smiling, laughing.
"Thank you," Anthony said. "For moving out here, to come live with me... for being you."
"It's an adventure," Sören said. He kissed the tip of Anthony's nose.
Anthony grinned. "You make it sound like this is a bloody jungle."
Sören couldn't help being bad - he looked down at Anthony's chest hair, around the healthy growth of hair on Anthony's arms and legs, the thick, lush pubes. Anthony facepalmed and howled with laughter.
"There's one thing I haven't explored yet." Sören raised an eyebrow. "I still haven't seen those pictures of you as a goth. Or you in your barrister wig."
"Oh god, Sören."
"You said you would show me those pictures," Sören said in a singsong voice, shaking him.
"I will, but I have to dig that photo album out of my closet. That's going to take awhile."
"What about your wig? You wear that to court, I know it's more accessible."
Once Anthony's knot receded, he gave an exaggerated sigh, slipped out of Sören, and opened his wardrobe to the suits and robes he wore for work. He took out the off-white, curly wig, and put it on his head. The sight of Anthony wearing the wig and nothing else made Sören giggle in hysterics, harder when Anthony turned around and gave a sassy butt wiggle.
"Happy now?"
"God, that looks like you have a fucking animal on your head. Could be a pet." Sören couldn't resist the silliness. "It needs a name."
"It does not bloody need a name."
"Well, you said I make having an adventure here sound like a jungle, so..." Sören smirked. "George. George of the Jungle."
Anthony threw the wig at Sören, who caught it, gigglesnorting.
"You're terrible, you know that." Anthony got back on the bed just in time for Sören to put the wig on his own head. "And that's... quite a look."
"Here," Sören said, pulling Anthony into a kiss. He started singing Morris Day and The Time. "I... I've been watching you, I think I wanna know ya, know ya. I said I, I am dangerous, boy I wanna show ya, show ya..."
"Oh my god."
"My jungle love, oh-we-oh-we-oh, I think I wanna know ya -"
Anthony shut Sören up with a kiss, then another. Soon they were kissing in earnest, grinding together, hard again... then Anthony saw Sören was still wearing the wig and doubled over, tearing up.
"It's like a new fetish," Sören teased.
"Brat."
"Takk." Sören gave a demure smile and kissed him again. "Come on baby, where's your guts? You wanna make love or what?"
Anthony growled and kissed Sören back, but then they started laughing all over again. Anthony tousled Sören's curls, grinning. "You're so ridiculous."
"I know."
Anthony sighed. "I'm keeping you."
Sören stroked Anthony's cheek, tearing up, filled with joy. That was exactly what he wanted. "Hi Keeping You."
Anthony growled again and bit Sören's neck. Sören cried out, almost coming just from that, untouched, and dug his nails in Anthony's back, urgent. "Please."
"We'll get there." Anthony kissed him, then kissed down his neck. "We have all night." He licked where his teeth had just been, making Sören shiver, cock aching, hole twitching, dripping slick. "We have our whole lives."
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