TomTord oneshots

fUCK my life dude

Warning: implied statutory rape, NSFW. starts out as smut and resolves into angst

Tord pushed Tom into his room, a grin on his lips as he closed the door behind him. Tom flicked on the lights, his other hand gripping Tord's hair. They broke their kiss for a gasp of air, Tom's back falling against the red covers of Tord's bed.

Hands slid down to the hem of Tom's sweatshirt, Tord breaking the kiss so he could tug it off. He left the shirt on, of course—he and Tom had a conversation on boundaries before their first time.

Yep, this is their first time together and, from what Tord understands, is Tom's first time in general.

Tord nibbles on Tom's lip, wanting entrance. Ignoring the request, Tom's hands slid down to Tord's hips and up his clothing, feeling up the muscles Tord had earned from his time in the army.

Annoyed, Tord reached his hand down and gave Tom's crotch a quick squeeze. The boy beneath him let out a gasp, Tord shoving his tongue inside.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed, refusing to go out without a fight. He pressed his tongue against Tord's, rolling it and pushing.

Suddenly, a pit of uncomfortableness found home in his stomach.

No, he thought to himself angrily, you're not pulling this bullshit now.

He submitted against Tord, giving up as the Norse practically tried to stick his tongue down Tom's throat. Hands found Tom's jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them so they could be pulled off.

Tom's stomach churned even more.

He knew it wasn't arousal—they've jacked off together, done second-hand masturbation, even blowjobs, but this?

This was different.

It's okay. It's fine. I'm okay. Everything's okay. It's just Tord. It's my boyfriend. It's okay.

Tord tugged off Tom's jeans and briefs, breaking off their kiss. Tom shuddered slightly, lifting himself up onto his elbows so he could watch what Tord planned to do.

"Fuck, I love you," Tord murmured as he reached over for lube. Tom tensed as Tord squirted some onto his fingers.

Fuck, no—! No. No, it's fine. I can do this. Come on, Tom, you can... you can...

"You ready?" Tord asked gently, his voice smooth and reassuring as he positioned his fingers in front of Tom's entrance.

"Yeah," Tom assured, biting his lip.

No, you're fucking not!

Tord slowly pressed two fingers inside, careful to be gentle and slow.

The feeling wasn't foreign, and Tom hated that.

His chest shook, and fuck, he was hyperventilating. He didn't—

Tord's fingers pressed deeper, and Tom let out a panicked whimper that Tord took as a good sign when, in fact, it wasn't a good sign!

Stop, stop, stop, stop, I don't—stop—!

"You okay?" Tord asked sweetly. Tom couldn't—he—fuck, he couldn't—

"Yes," Tom croaked out desperately, too humiliated about his panic to speak up.

It's okay. It's alright. It feels good, doesn't it? Tord makes you feel good, right?

Tord's fingers curled and pressed against Tom's prostate as he leaned up to press slow kisses against Tom's neck, towering over the boy.