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Tord sighs, drinking in the feeling of Tom's body, cool and soft against his. Running his fingertips down Tom's belly, the light dusting of hair that runs down between his legs, until Tord's fingers come to what years and years of T have done to him.
Tom thrums pleasantly, lifting one leg up to rest on Tord's hip, tilting his head to the side to kiss Tord's cheek as his fingers explore— his thumb running along the underside of Tom's clit, his index and pointer spreading him apart, collecting the pooling fluid.
“You know what you taste like?” Tord asks, popping his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean.
Oh, Tord has certainly made his broad opinion known — or at least Tom has chosen to take the lack of direct complaint as proof enough that Tord finds him enjoyable. He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you’ve ever told me in specific.”
A light smack. “Orange. Not like oranges— no, listen! Not like oranges, but like the color orange.
Stop laughing at me!”
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Tom lifting his hip up, telling Tord to slip inside, to fill him up, but stopping Tord with a hand on his hip when he tries to thrust.
“I never said anything about fucking me.”
“What?” Tord sputters.
“You wanted me to keep you warm, didn’t you?”
Tord blinks, then grins to match Tom's wolfish smirk. “You’re an asshole.”
Tom kisses his cheek.
Tord advances, moaning as Tom's perfect mouth falls open. He shifts, driving himself just that little bit deeper, he can’t help it. Tom's soft gasp tells him he’s touched something deep.
Tom pulls out of the kiss. “No, no, no cheating.”
Tord whimpers, nuzzling into Tom's neck. “But you’re sooooo wonderful.” A kiss. “Feel so good around me.” Another. A deep inhale, shivering at Tom's scent— like purple, like bars and old vodka. “Look so pretty like this.” Another kiss, another, another.
"With your dick inside me?” Tom asks with a small smile, a quirked brow.
Tord folds his arms around Tom, rubbing their cheeks against each other, letting his lips travel from Tom's brown, silky hair to and then back down again again, a hand spreading down to the thigh perched on his own.
“I was thinking in general, but yes,” another “you are particularly stunning when I’m fucking you.” Anotheranotheranother, until Tom has to giggle. Tord traces his hand softly and slowly up the inside curve of Tom's thigh, up behind his knee and then back down between his legs, brushing lightly over it.
"When I pin you down and your legs wrap around my waist... or when you’re about to cum, and your head tilts back and you start clawing my back—“ Tom's body shifts around him, loosens, trying to take him in even further.Another, another, another.
"I love when I can hear how wet you are. Or even when we do anal, and you always go completely boneless for a second."
Tom thrums, deep in his throat.
Then Tord says, “You take dick pretty well, for someone so uptig—”
“Alright.” Tom pushes Tord's face away. “That’s enough of that.”
And Tord just laughs.