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It's late at night, and Tord is at his computer. He's lazily going through his files, trying to find something to get him off, but is interrupted by a knock at the door.
He groans, leaving the preview photo of the porno up on his very bright computer screen. Tord opens the door and smiles, realizing whatever he had been hoping to get off on had fallen right into the palm of his hands.
Tom stands in the doorway, peering over the horned boy's shoulder and sneering. He looks down at the other, trying to figure out how to word this.
"It's late, Tom. Do you need something?" Tord starts, attempting to act like he doesn't care. He likes that Tom looks nervous.
"You remember last week, right?" He starts worrying his lip with his teeth.
"How could I forget?"
Tom rolls his eyes, fiddling with the pocket in his blue hoodie. "Would you want to... Can we go smoke somewhere? I need to blow off some steam."
He hates the way Tord's eyes glint when he says that, like he's planning something. He also hates the red-hot flash in his lower belly when he sees it.
Tord is thrilled, getting more than the beating he expected. That would have turned him on, too, but that's beside the point.
Tom waits as Tord grabs a metal tin and keys, eyeing him as he slips something else into his pocket in silence.
The two put on their shoes and hop into Tord's car. "There's a spot I go to when I don't wanna be found. I usually just smoke out there."
His voice is softer than usual as he pulls out of the driveway. His hand is over the back of the headrest on Tom's side, the weird smirk still on his face. Tom thinks he'd like to punch him, but he has no reason to do so right now.
Tord turns, looking at Tom once they're out of the driveway. "You have a staring issue tonight. Is there something on my face?"
"Just your usual ugly mug, but it's not something you can fix."
"Okay, I'm starting to regret bringing you out to smoke." Tord starts to fake driving back, and the blue hoodied boy immediately looks anxious.
"No, wait, I'm sorry for saying that. Please, I need this." Tord looks over and smirks, pretending to relent, and drives forward again.
Tom let out the breath he was holding, his chest shaking from his anxiousness. It's just weed, so why does he feel like he needs this so bad? He tries thinking of why this has him so worked up before getting flashes of what happened last week. He shuts his eyes suddenly, but that only worsens it, and he swears he can feel the way Tord's hands were on his waist last time.
"Tom? Tom, we're here." He opens his eyes to the start of an expansive forest. There are no lights for at least 10 minutes from here. Only the moon illuminates the car.
"Get in the backseat. It's too cramped up front to smoke comfortably." Tord orders, and Tom finds himself eager to obey.
They hop into the backseat, and Tord opens the metal tin. In it are 3 blunts and a roach, likely from last week's session, as well as his lighter. He takes out one of the joints and holds it to his lips, lighting the end.
Tom, watching as his throat moves as he inhales, trying to beat away the flush when Tord leans forward to pass it his way. The moment he's distracted, trying to take the blunt, a cloud of smoke is breathed into his face.
Through the coughing and the haze, he sees the cheeky grin of the horned boy and scowls. "Are you trying to piss me off?"
Tord fakes an innocent expression that only serves to anger Tom more. "Whatever do you mean? The smoke has to go somewhere, ja?"
Tom scoffs and brings the blunt up to his lips to get a hit. The moment his throat is filled with the burn, Tord speaks again.
"It's like we're sharing an indirect kiss right now, you and I." He loves watching Tom as he splutters and hands back the joint.
"You say that like we didn't make out last time."
"Oh yeah."
Tord chuckles, taking a hit and letting the high slowly roll over him. His hand purposefully brushes Tom's as it's passed back. He swears his pants feel tighter when he watches the flush start moving down to his chest.
"Hey, Tom? Are you sure you only needed to smoke? You've been super off since you came to my door." He starts out slow but knows what this is.
Tom's head is spinning, and everything feels stiff when he moves. He likes this kind of high, but it makes it harder to hold up the conversation.
"Mhm... I liked the way it felt last time."
"Liked how what felt?"
"The... the thing. The weed."
Tord bites his lip, finally able to push on something. "Are you sure? You look nervous. You aren't lying to me, are you?"
And he's right, Tom is incredibly nervous. He's too high to make himself presentable now, and Tord wants to make him look more undone.
"Everything's so fuzzy. You're not making any sense." Tom's voice is all out of sorts, and it doesn't help that the other is leaning in closer and moving to straddle him.
He brings the joint back up to his lips and places his hands on either side of Tord's hips.
"Come on, take another hit," Tord says slowly. Tom nods and starts breathing in, and brings up a hand to take the blunt out of his mouth. Tord smacks it away. "I say when you're done. Keep going."
Tom whines low but listens. Tord takes it out of the other's mouth when it's obvious he can't keep it in any longer. "Good kitty. You obey so well."
Tom coughs out all the smoke, unable to keep up his composure. "Thank you?" He murmurs, not sure how to explain the bulge in his pants that Tord will definitely notice soon.
"You're doing great. I like watching your brain get all fuzzy. I can tell you like this, too." He brings the blunt up to the others' neck, one hand keeping his chin up.
"You remember what you told Matt? About the... marks?"
Tom nods.
"Do you want to make them real?" Tord's voice is raspy, and it's taking everything in him to let this build and not jump his bones now.
"You want to burn me?"
"Ja. Am I allowed?"
Tom swallows, a shallow breath coming out of his nose as his mouth dries. "Yeah... yeah, you're allowed."
He winces as Tord immediately presses the hot ash of the blunt to his sensitive skin. Tord looks over at him, studying his face.
"Sorry, sorry. Do it again..." And Tord obliges. This time, he moans, hips thrusting instinctually. The horned boy forces his hips back down.
"Sit still, you stupid mutt." He snarls, and Tom swears he can see stars. He nods desperately.
The more Tord marks him, the more desperate and louder he gets. He's internally thankful that they didn't smoke at the house, if this is where this was going to go the entire time.
Every time he makes a sound now, Tord starts wiggling his hips. Tom places his hands on the front of his pants where the zipper is, looking up desperately.
"Off... want them off." He says quietly, and Tord grins. He stuffs the blunt back in the other's mouth and sits up.
"Help me take them off, kitty." And immediately his fly is down, and his pants are off his hips. He'd be more embarrassed about his choice of very stereotypical heart boxers if he weren't so focused on the way Tom was struggling to keep the blunt in his mouth.
"One big puff for me, and I'll take them off the rest of the way, okay?"
Ever eager, Tom obliges, although ending up in a coughing fit because of it. Tord giggles, tutting and pinching him. He wiggles them off, almost falling over onto Tom.
Tom goes wide-eyed, managing to catch the other before he hits anything. "Careful."
Tord goes red for once, unable to make himself look normal at the sound of the others' soft, foggy voices. It's so gentle that it feels out of place. The horned boy grabs the ashtray from the front seat's drink holder and puts out the last of the blunt.
"Off," Tom whispers again, tugging at the horned boy's shirt. Tord helps him get it off, sitting there in his boxers while the other lies there underneath him, fully dressed.
Tom looks starstruck, hands moving, and exploring like he's determined to read him through his body. The other sits there, not really sure what to do.
"You're soft. A lot more than I thought you were." Tom says wistfully, eyelashes fluttering as they lock eyes again.
"Are you just gonna sit there looking starstruck, or are we going to touch each other?"
Tom nods, moving to remove his hoodie. It slides off with little issue, and he moves to take his shirt off as well.
Tord gets annoyed, reaching near the bottom and choosing to rip it open instead.
"Dude, my shirt..."
"I'll get you a new one. Just hurry up."
Tom rolls his eyes and shuffles his pants down. "There, happy?"
"Oh, very."
Tord leans in, locking lips with him like he's starved. He might as well be; he's dreamt of it every day since the first time.
He still tastes like alcohol, but now something tastier. Chapstick, he thinks. He moans, trying to gain dominance with his tongue.
Tom is too out of breath to fight it, letting him take over. Tord's hands are everywhere, touching everything, feeling every part of Tom that was once out of reach.
"You don't know how long I've been planning this... but you've been so out of reach. Fuck, you taste so good..."
Tom isn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he could admit the same. The dirty dreams, the drunk nights where he snuck his old hoodie that he swore to tord he threw out. On the other hand, he could lie. Pretend there was nothing there before and that to him, this is charity work.
He decides not to say anything, instead moving his hand lower to palm him through his boxers. Tord whimpers in response, movement faltering as he presses into the others' hands.
Tom experimentally moves up and down on the other's length, trying to pay attention to his moans through the fog in his brain.
"Like that, please, keep going like that..." Tord murmurs in his ear, and he heeds his words. When he gets frustrated with the fabric, he tugs it down to release the other members.
It slaps against his hand, and he whines at the warmth of it. His thumb swipes over the tip to gather some of the fluid that was released there before using it to make his movements easier.
He looks Tord in the eyes while he strokes him, the others' eyes lidded as he pants heavily. "Such a good kitty," he splutters out. "You're doing so good, making me feel so good..." And Tom's body heats up again, the majority of it going to his groin.
As he continues, Tord's body gets more sensitive and keeps twitching. He can hear the pants picking up and the gentle, "fuck, please" getting more and more desperate.
Tord opens his mouth to warn the other, but before a single note of a coherent word escapes, a whiny moan does instead. His hips jut forward, and thick load shoots over Tom's hand and onto his stomach.
Tord ruts into his fist a little longer, trying to milk the rest of it out, but has to stop when he starts crying at Tom's touch.
"Did so good, kitty... such a good boy." He pants out, watching Tom scoop up the fluid on his body and into his mouth. "Let me reward you."
Tord leans in again; this time, his kisses are gentle. He maneuvers Tom into his lap sideways, giving access to see his face and feel him up.
He reaches his hand into the checkered boxers Tom wears, freeing his cock to give him better access.
The boy in his lap leans his head back, covering his eyes with the back of his arm. Tord grabs it and pins it to his side.
"Stupid mutt. You're going to watch me do this, okay? Or are you too dumb a dog to follow orders now?"
Normally, Tom would've punched him or spat in his face, but he's far too turned on and far too exposed to be able to fight. He shakes his head, but Tord isn't satisfied.
"Use your words."
"No."
"No, what?"
Tom's confused for a second, running through things in his head that will make sense.
"No, sir?"
Tord's teeth glint in the light of the moon as he grins, and he plants a soft kiss on his jaw. His hands move to grab his pants.
He pulls out a small bottle of lube, pouring it onto Tom's member. He winces, and Tord glares at him, making him quiet.
" 's cold..."
"Yeah, I know. But it'll help me make you cum, okay? Silly dumb mutt."
Tom moans out, both at the degradation and as Tord’s hand begins to move. He starts slow, pinching the other whenever he whines about the pace. When he had finally settled and stopped squirming, Tord rapidly picked up the pace.
Tom whimpers loud enough to be heard down the street, leaning onto the other for stability. He begins to sound incomprehensible in his ear, begging so sweetly to cum.
Tord makes a small 'hm,' as though he needs to consider whether he'll allow it. When Tom starts whining in his ear, repeatedly saying "I'm gonna cum, please let me cum, I need to, please, please please," Tord's hand slides down his cock and stops.
Tom almost screams, hitting the other's arm. "What is wrong with you!? I was so close!" He sobs out, and the other just laughs.
"You're disobedient. Bad at listening. You'll cum when I think you've made up for that, ja?"
Tom whines into his neck, nodding. "I wanna be good, I'll be good."
Tord giggles, starting up again, watching Tom's face at how responsive he is. He delights in swiping his thumb over the tip to hear the soft whine in the back of the other's throat. He picks up the pace again, face in his neck as he bites and licks and sucks.
Tom's face is blissed out, completely overwhelmed as Tord slows to a stop again. There's a loud whine, but he accepts his fate, leaning in and waiting for Tord to start back up again.
Tord smiles and coos at him, deciding to reward him. "You're such a good kitty. So well behaved, ja?"
He murmurs more praises in Norwegian, and Tom just nods along, rutting up against him. Tom braces to be denied again, trying not to whimper too loudly. Tord frowns.
"Louder. You know I like your noises. I'm gonna let you cum this time, but you gotta be loud for me." Tom's face lights up, and he leaves his mouth open.
Tord tugs on his hair slightly to expose his neck so he can mark him up more. Tom borderline screams when he finishes, collapsing into the other with sobs as Tord's hand is covered in his cum.
He waits for Tom's breath to steady before lifting up his hand. "Go on, clean me up."
Tom raises an eyebrow, but after a stern look from the other, he obeys. He licks up his wrist and fingers. When he finishes, Tord forces open his mouth to inspect him.
"You seriously swallowed it?"
"You started it. I figured you'd want me to."
"Good kitty."
Tom feels his face grow hot, but he rolls his eyes instead. "Whatever... I'm exhausted, we should head back. Plus, I'm still really dizzy."
Tord shrugs. He dresses first, throwing all of Tom's clothes at him while sneakily stuffing his boxers into his pocket.
Tom groans, looking under the chairs. "Dude, where'd you put my boxers?"
"Are they not on the floor or the seats?"
"Obviously not."
"Then I'll look for them when I clean out my car tomorrow. Sorry, man."
Tom rolls his eyes and just finishes putting his clothes back on. They both hop in the front seat, trying to ignore the smell and stickiness left over.
"You owe me a new shirt and probably boxers by the way."
"I let you smoke in my car and touch me. That's payment enough."
"I am never sleeping with you again."
That was a lie, and they ended up making it a common, if not weekly, occurrence. Edd also had a lot of questions on why they both left late at night and came back at three in the morning, disheveled, high, and wearing each other's hoodies.