"Hey, Tom, Tord!" Edd called from the kitchen. Tord perked up, glancing at the hallway. Edd emerged a moment later, Matt trailing behind him. "Matt and I are gonna go to the park. You guys wanna come?"

He peered at Tom. If Tom wasn't going, neither was he. He'd finally get his damn chance.

"Nah, I've got shit to do," the Brit answered, hand on the remote.

"You mean you're gonna sit on the couch the whole time they're gone and watch television?" Tom glared at him and slammed his foot into Tord's leg. The Norwegian rolled his eyes. "I'm not going, either."

Edd raised an eyebrow. Usually Tord would do whatever it takes to get away from Tom. "Alright. Have fun doing... whatever." They turned to leave. "We're probably going out to dinner as well, so we may be a long time."

"'Kay," Tom called over his shoulder, waving them off.

"See you guys!" Matt called. Then, the front door opened and closed.

"So, did you actually have something to do today or did you just not want to go?" Tord asked, poking Tom's arm.

Tom slapped him away. "I actually have something to do, you fucking commie. What about you? Why'd you stay?"

Tord let his mouth spread into a wide, smug grin. "I've got something to do as well, Jehovah's Witness."

Tom glanced at him, a light pink dusting across his face when he realized Tord was staring at him. "Lame." He placed the remote on the coffee table, standing. Tord stood after Tom passed him, the Brit probably heading to his room.

Tom wouldn't make it.

Tord rushed forward and pushed the Brit against the wall, forcing his arms against his back. Tom squeaked in surprise at the action, already beginning to struggle.

"Hey, what the hell? Let me the fuck go!" Tom spat angrily, only to hiss in pain when Tord squeezed his arm.

"Calm down."

"How am I supposed to do that when—"

Tom cut himself off when Tord began to press soft kisses on his neck.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Tom's voice didn't have any bite to it, becoming perfectly still.

"What?" Still grasping Tom's arms with one hand, he placed the other on the hem of Tom's sweatshirt. "Do you not want this?"

"Uhm, I don't- I- what?" he stuttered, only to let out a soft gasp when began to Tord run his hand up and down Tom's side.

"You're pretty loud when you finger yourself." Tom's breathing ceased immediately.

"You... heard that?"

Tord snickered, letting go of Tom and forcing him to turn around. The Brit's face was more red than Tord's hoodie. "It was a fun show to watch."

Tom's eyes widened and he let out an embarrassed "fuck", turning his head away from Tord. He shook his head, the grin never leaving his face as he began to pull Tom's sweatshirt off. When he was met with no resistance, he tossed it to the side.

"So, how long?" Tord asked as he reached his hands under Tom's shirt.

"W-what?"

Tord brushed his hands against Tom's nipples. "How long have you wanted me?"

Tom cleared his throat, still refusing to look at Tord. "This is too fucking weird."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "I want an answer." He moved his hand down to Tom's crotch, rubbing it gently through the fabric.

"You'll get an answer over my cold, dead body," Tom hissed, eyes narrowing. His breathing was ragged, clutching Tord's sweatshirt.

"You're so difficult." He continued to place kisses on Tom's neck and shoulders, occasionally stopping to suck and leave a hickey. One hand was rubbing Tom, the other was sliding against Tom's thigh.

"Tord— come on— we're not doing this out in the living room." He began to push Tord away.

Tord raised an eyebrow. "Thomas. Look at me."

"No."

Tord let out an irritated sigh, removing his hand from Tom's crotch and using it to grab Tom's chin, turning his head so he was facing him.

"Why can't we do this right here?"

Tom narrowed his eyes, glaring at Tord. "Because if Edd and Matt walk through the door, this will be the first thing they see."

"They said they'd be gone for awhile. Plus, knowing those two, they might not be back until midnight or something."

"But this is the living room! This place will haunt me forever if we don't move somewhere else!"

"So, you'll be haunted by the memory of me fucking you senseless in this very room?"

Tom's glare disappeared, his eyes widening. "I, uh- I th- dude, just shut the fuck up!" he stuttered, tearing his head away from Tord's grasp. Tord couldn't help but laugh, watching as Tom scrunched his shoulders up and shrunk down.

He leaned down so his mouth was next to Tom's ear. "You're such a submissive little bitch." Tom squeaked, his hands flying up to Tord's chest. The Norwegian began to unbutton and unzip Tom's jeans, hastily shoving them and his boxers off. His hand cupped Tom, dragging his thumb across the tip, drinking in every gasp and moan he earned.

"T-Tord. Enough."

The Norwegian stopped, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to stop?"

"No, I want you to stop teasing me!" Tom hissed angrily. "You're even slower than I imagined, you idiot!"

For a moment, Tord was livid. He was moving to grip Tom's wrists, squeezing them with as much strength as he could. He took a deep breath, but didn't release his hold. "Fine. You want me to stop teasing? I'll stop teasing."

He smashed his lips into Tom's. Quite literally smashed. Tom opened his mouth as he gasped in pain, only to have Tord delve his tongue inside. Tom wanted to fight back, but this was what he asked for. Tord was pressing him against the wall, still gripping Tom's wrists with a passion as they pressed against his chest. Tord let go of his left hand, finally giving Tom the ability to move it. He began to grip Tord's hair.

To be honest, he thought his punishment was over.

Then, Tord bit Tom's lip.

Tom immediately reacted. He used his free hand to pull Tord's head away, letting out a string of curses.

"You... you dick!" Tom spat, freeing his other hand as he wiped his mouth. He glanced down and, yup— it was bleeding.

"Hey, I did what you asked," Tord mused, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"Damnit...!" Tom hissed under his breath. "Enough with this bullshit foreplay. I'm getting lube." He was pulling off the rest of his clothes, except for his shirt. Tord watched him with an amused smile.

"I already have some." Tom snapped his head up, tugging his shirt down.

"You- you planned this?!" he accused, glaring at Tord.

"Well, I didn't push you against the wall because of how great your ass looked," Tord mocked in response, fishing out a bottle of lube from his pocket.

"Shit, isn't that kind really expensive?"

He responded with a shrug, squirting an excessive amount onto his fingers. "Turn around." Tom hesitated for a moment, but did as he was told. He tensed when he felt something cold poke him. He placed his arms on the wall, his forehead pressed against them. "Damnit, Thomas, you have to relax."

"S-shut up! It's not like I do this often!" Tom snapped in response. He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. "Just... get it over with already." Tord laughed quietly. Then, he pressed his finger inside of Tom. The Brit gasped, his hands becoming fists. After a moment of stretching, he added another digit.

"You're a lot tighter than I expected," Tord said, scissoring him.

"W-what the hell is that supposed- supposed to mean?" Tom hissed in response, knuckles turning white from how hard he was squeezing his fists.

"Well, with how you were acting when you were... putting on your show, I had assumed you were a— errr, you'd done this shit a lot," he explained, adding a third finger.

Tom bristled. "Yeah, well, you'll—" Tom cut himself off.

Yeah, there was no way in hell he was going to tell Tord he was a virgin.

"I'll what? To busy moaning to answer?"

"You need to shut up, that's what!" Tom snapped, only to let out a choked gasp when Tord pulled his fingers out.

"Alright, Jehovah's Witness, turn around," Tord ordered, hurriedly shoving down his sweatpants. Tom scoffed but turned around, greeted by Tord rubbing lube on himself.

Okay, so his dream got the fucking size right.

It had a small vein popping from one side, a nice, thick bump in the middle. The head was a pinkish color. Tom let out a shaky breath, biting his lip.

How the hell was he going to take that?

"Stop gawking." Tom snapped his head up, eyes widening with embarrassment. "I want to be inside of you."

"T-then hurry the he- uh, the fuck up," Tom stuttered wildly, wrapping his arms around Tord's neck.

"Jesus Christ, you're so adorable," Tord mumbled, hooking his arms under Tom's knees, the Brit placing his face on Tord's shoulder. Despite the awkward position, he managed to lead his cock to Tom's entrance. He shifted so Tom's back was against the wall as he pressed inside slowly.

Tom let out a small gasp, breaths ragged. Tord was sliding inside of him smoothly thanks to the lube, every inch making Tom tense up more and more. Being spread open by something thicker than his fingers wasn't something he planned on happening.

"God, you're so tight," he whispered, rubbing his thumb in a circular motion, trying to soothe Tom. Tom only responded with his battered breathing, clutching Tord's sweatshirt. "You okay, Thomas?"

No. I'm being fucked by the one person I'm supposed to despise, and I'm enjoying it. Of course I'm not okay!

"Y-yeah," he gasped out, despite his inner thoughts, "you're just a lot bigger than what I'm used to."

Tord snorted. "I don't know if that's a compliment to me or an insult to your previous partners."

My 'previous partners' happen to be my fingers.

"It was an insult," he deadpanned, finally catching his breath.

"Of course. You could never compliment me."

"Well, you're not wrong."

"Whether you're going to compliment me or not, I'm still gonna give you the best fuck of your life." Tom opened his mouth to respond, only to let out a choked gasp when Tord pulled almost all the way out, only the tip inside of him. 

"Fuck!" Tom hissed as Tord slammed inside him. He had hoped Tord would start slow, but the Norwegian just went straight to pounding. He kept shifting his thrusts, Tom squeaking and moaning with every one.

God, he didn't want to admit it, but it felt good.

The feeling of being spread open, the way Tord was digging his nails into his thighs, how tears were pricking at his eyes from the pleasure of being fucked by his enemy—

It was really fucking good.

Then, Tord hit a spot Tom wasn't expecting.

He jolted immediately, every muscle in his body stiffening as he let out a lewd whimper. He began to squirm, trying to adjust to the new position.

"You're acting like you've never been fucked before," Tord said mockingly, though he was soaking up every noise he earned from Tom.

"T-Tord— slow— slow down—"

Tord was close, so there was no way in hell he was going to slow down.

He removed one of his hands, the Brit wrapping the leg around his waist as he began to pump Tom's length.

"P-please, Tord, it's too much—"

He was overstimulated, on the verge of coming, and Tord was still keeping at his relentless pace.

"Fuck, Thomas... I love how you squeeze around me... do you like this? Being fucked a few feet away from where our friends chat?"

"Fuck, yes... Tord, are you— are you close?" Tom didn't mean to sound like he was begging. He just needed this to end. Being fucked like this for your first time makes you ache, apparently.

Tord let out a deep chuckle. "Yeah, I'm close."

"Tord, fuck— I want you to come in me— I need you to—"

"I can do that if it keeps my baby satisfied." A moment after that sentence, he let out a low groan, stuffing himself as far inside of Tom as he could. He was still stroking Tom as he came, the Brit following suit a moment later.

The only noise in the room was their heavy breathing. He could feel the sweat dripping off his skin as he shifted his hold, letting go of Tom's knee and cock, placing them on his sides so he could slide Tom off of him.

Tom was holding onto the wall for support, legs shaking violently.

"That was one hell of a first time," Tom muttered, too quiet for Tord to hear. The Norwegian perked an eyebrow but didn't ask him to repeat himself. He glanced at his clothes, which had been rudely tossed to the side. He tugged his shirt down, mentally prepping himself to let go of his only support. Tord was tugging his sweatpants up, still watching Tom with amusement on his face.

Tom finally let go of the wall, taking a few, timid steps toward his clothes— only to lose his balance. He would've collapsed if Tord hadn't grabbed Tom's arm. "Careful now. Do you need some help?"

He shifted he was grasping Tord's hand for balance, reaching down to grab his things. "Of course I don't need help. I'm not a child."

"It's not that you're a child, Tom. You're shaking pretty badly and your balance is off."

"Look, I just need to go to the shower, clean up, and sleep. That's not that hard. I'll be fine in a moment."

Tord furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "Alright, I guess."