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Waking up in Tord’s dark, musty, grimy room on a Saturday morning wasn’t something Tom was particularly fond of. Maybe it was the way the sun blinded him through the broken blinds or the sticky feeling on his skin. It was unpleasant. Tord’s very existence could be considered unpleasant. Tom turned his head to look at the sleeping face next to him. That acne riddled face he’d point out whenever Tord got on his nerves, which was often. Sometimes it was easier just sliding out of bed and forgetting the previous night’s activities, letting it fade from his memory over the following two days before he’s reminded by that damn pimply face at school on Monday. Other days, Tom stayed for a little longer and pondered what he was even doing there in the first place. This was one of those days.
Tom often looked around Tord’s room when he was thinking. He noted the drawings of anime girls in skimpy clothing covering the walls, most of them made by Tord himself. Posters for bands he enjoyed hid holes in the drywall and made his room look darker than it really was. It stunk of cigarette smoke that clung to the walls, the furniture, and eventually Tom himself. He’d gotten used to it.
He heard stirring beside him, as Tord rolled over and flung his arm over Tom’s face.
“Fucks sake– move over,” Tom lowly grumbled as he shoved the other boy back over to the inside of his bed. Tord woke up at this, muttering something in a groggy voice as he weakly shoved Tom back.
“It’s my bed, asshole.” He retorted, and Tom ignored him. “Why are you still here, anyways? Don’t you have some day-drinking to do? You fuckin’ alcoholic.”
“Yeah, I’ll go ask your dad for a drink.”
Tord went quiet after that.
Tom turned away from him to look for his clothes that were strewn across the floor. Checker-patterned boxers caught his eye first, and even though he desperately craved a shower before getting dressed again, he walked across the room to put them on. Tord gave him a glance and ran a hand through his greasy hair.
“Pass me mine, will you?”
Tom almost considered snapping at him to get them himself, but decided against it upon realizing they were right by his feet. He plucked them off the ground with two fingers by the corner– who knows the last time Tord did laundry –and tossed them over to him. Tord shuffled under the covers as he dressed himself and stood up.
“I gotta take a piss.”
Tom gathered the rest of his clothes and set them on the bed. He rubbed at his neck; it was sore from last night. Before he put on his clothes, he took a look at himself in the cracked mirror on Tord’s wall. His neck and prominent collarbones were littered with bruises and bitemarks, and his hair was a mess. Dead giveaways of drunken sex. He knew his foster parents wouldn’t dare ask though. He also noticed his hips were lined with finger-shaped bruises– just how rough had Tord been?
“Checkin’ yourself out, fag?” Tord asked, grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the nightstand.
“Give me one of those,” Tom ignored his question and stepped towards him. Tord clicked his tongue and placed a cigarette between his lips, then Tom’s.
“C’mere,” He mumbled, urging Tom to pull in closer so the tips of their cigarettes were pressed together. Tord flicked the lighter a few times before the flame finally lit. He pulled away and took a drag, freely exhaling the smoke after. Tom made a face and motioned to the closed window.
“This is why your room smells like shit.”
“You smell like shit,”
“Only ‘cause I’ve been here all night.”
In response, Tord blew smoke in his face.
Tom coughed, brows creasing. “You’re such a fucking cunt.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it.” Tord said as he scratched under his boxers.
“Gross too.”
That made him smirk, “not gross enough that you won’t let me fuck you, faggot.” Tom’s eye twitched at that, because he was technically right. This agreement they had, this unspoken agreement that they would crawl into bed together on Friday nights, was something Tom couldn’t defend himself from.
“That makes you a faggot too, stupid.” Tord shrugged, taking another drag.
“You’re the one who lets a man put it in your ass,” He took a few steps towards Tom, who took a few steps back until his legs were pressed against the bed. “I’m just being generous and helping kickstart a bright future in being a faggot glory hole.” He said as he narrowed in on Tom, a hand coming up to cup the back of his neck. It was warm.
“Fuck you,” Tom hissed as he let the cigarette fall to the floor.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Tord cooed. “You’ll make a lot of men happy.” Tom grimaced at the thought and tried shoving Tord away, but he refused to budge. His grip was firm.
“You’d be the one keeping me in business, you fuckin’ sicko.” Tom snapped. Tord chuckled a little– god did that piss Tom off –and rubbed the back of Tom’s neck slowly.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
Tord’s hand moved to the top of Tom’s spiky hair, flattening it in the process, and began to push down as he smirked, “let’s put those skills of yours to the test.” Tom’s knees buckled under the pressure, and he allowed himself to be pushed down to his knees in front of Tord. Tom clicked his tongue at Tord’s bulge pressing against the fabric of his boxers.
“You seriously got hard over that?” He mocked. He wanted to stand up and slam his fist into Tord’s ugly face, to scream at him about how much of a disgusting pervert he is and that he despised being around him. But the stench of last night’s activities hit him all at once when Tord let his cock free in front of his face. The scent of sweat, sex, and Tord’s general musk was driving him crazy .
“Say ahh ,” Tord teased. Tom opened his mouth to retort, but the second he did, Tord yanked his head and shoved his cock into his mouth. He should have known Tord wouldn’t play fair. Tom gagged and tried to reel backwards on instinct, but a pair of hands kept him put. He pulled his head back only to push forward his hips moments later. It hit the back of Tom’s throat. He gagged again, eyes watering and making fat tears roll down his cheeks. His nails dug into Tord’s hips, but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered.
“I like it when you cry…” Tord purred, thrusting his hips forward again. It felt so good when he gagged and his throat closed around him, he couldn’t stop no matter how much Tom struggled beneath him. Tom couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him. His body was tense and he was struggling to even breathe out of his nose when Tord pushed him forward so his nose was pressed against his pubes. Saliva dribbled down his chin, thick strings hanging down to his chest. He was a teary, snotty, drooling mess at the hands of Tord.
Tord continued mercilessly fucking his throat, letting out low noises of his own and gradually getting more erratic. His rhythm was sloppy and he was breathing heavily– a sign that Tom knew meant he was close. It was only a few moments until Tord made a noise and pushed Tom’s head all the way forward, going as deep as he possibly could as he unloaded down his throat. Tom’s eyes squeezed shut and he gagged again. Tord’s breath was shaky as he finally let go, arms going slack at his sides and back straightening while Tom freed himself from his cock.
“God– you’re such a fucking asshole,” Tom seethed. He wiped his tears and nose on Tord’s blanket. “You’re lucky I didn’t puke all over your dick.” Tord laughed.
“That would’ve been kinda hot.”
“Ew.”
Tord put himself away, put his cigarette out, and looked down at his ‘friend’. It bothered him how pretty he thought Tom looked after ravaging him. His hair was even more of a mess than before and his face was red and blotchy, a look that wouldn’t be attractive to most people, but Tord was quite fond of it.
“You look like shit.” He remarked. Tom scoffed and stood once he finally caught his breath. He wobbled a little, and Tord held his shoulder to stable him. They didn’t speak of it. Tom shook him off and padded across the room to the nearly empty bottle of vodka on Tord’s dresser. He took a swing from it and made a face. The same face he made every time. The same face Tord had gotten used to. As tough as Tom liked to pretend to be, he still wasn't accustomed to the taste of liquor yet.
Tord looked over at the digital clock on his nightstand. 8:16 am it read. He scratched the back of his neck and looked back to Tom who had finished the rest of the bottle. Downstairs there was noise– his father must have gotten home sometime last night. Faint sounds of dishes and kitchenware clanging filled the room and Tord’s brows furrowed. He silently grabbed his wooden desk chair and propped it up under the door knob, his way of locking the door that had no lock. Tom was looking at him expectantly.
“Wanna go back to bed?”
“Okay.”
They both slid into Tord’s bed and got comfortable on the twin sized mattress. Their backs were to each other, the magnetic post-sex feeling that pulled them together absent. Tord let out an exasperated sigh when the fire alarm went off. He knew better that there was no fire, just his useless dad burning toast again, or something of the sorts. Tom was used to it too, for the amount of times he’d been over. Despite that, his interactions with Tord’s family were few and far between. Sometimes his dad would give him dirty looks when he came down the stairs after a night of fooling around. Other times it was women who would ask him what he and Tord he had been doing all night. It was never the same woman twice. Either way, he wasn’t very fond of seeing them.
“What do you think your dad would say if he found out you were gay?” Tom asked suddenly. He could feel Tord tense up behind him.
“I’m not gay.” He corrected. Tom rolled his eyes.
“Oh, sorry, let me rephrase that,” he tutted. “What do you think your dad would say if he found out you liked putting your dick in your male classmate every Friday night?” Tord sighed and rolled over. Tom didn’t follow suit.
“What do you think?” Irritation seeped into his voice. “He’d probably kill me, or something.” He suggested quietly. Tom rolled over now, an annoyed expression on his face.
“Are you stupid or something?” He asked, “aren’t you worried about getting caught if we keep doing this?” Tord’s frown lifted into a smirk.
“Aw, are you worried about me?” He teased, reaching out to pinch his cheek.
“ No, I’m worried about what would happen to me .” Tom said as he batted Tord’s hand away. Tord let out an amused breath through his nose, and it was only then when he felt his breath on his face did Tom realize how close together they were.
Tom rolled over onto his other side, turning his back to Tord once more. He felt a hand on his hip and Tord’s chin on his head.
“You’re so cold,” Tord whined. He could feel his heartbeat quicken with the rare bit of affection Tord was giving him. They didn’t touch each other much outside of sexual gratification or physically assaulting one another. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually cuddled with someone either. And to think it was with Tord of all people.
Before he could think about it further, the hand on his hip trailed its way up to his bare chest, where it then began tweaking with one of his nipples.
“Ngh–” Tom shuddered and shook Tord off of him, hands moving to cover his chest out of embarrassment. Tord laughed behind him and rolled onto his back. His heart was beating like crazy now, and all he could think about was the way their bodies were pressed together for that brief moment. They were quiet for a while after that, and Tom found himself drifting off, before Tord abruptly broke the silence.
“Hey, Tom,” he called. “What are we going to be after this arrangement is over?” Tom quirked a brow, a little caught off guard by Tord’s question.
“Um, acquaintances? I don’t like you.” He reminded.
“Yeah but, after we graduate, and you go out on your own and start your gay little band–” Tom rolled his eyes. “–and you meet new people, new guys. Let’s say you fall in love and get married. Will you ever look back on this and regret not…” He trailed off.
“Regret not doing what?” Tom urged.
Just then, a loud bang echoed through Tord’s room, startling both of them, as a hand rapped on the wooden door.
“Tord! Did you take something from the goddamn liquor cabinet again?” His father shouted through the door. Tom eyed the empty bottle of Smirnoff on the dresser. Tord sighed and sat up.
“You should go.” He said quietly. Tom nodded and rolled out of bed, getting dressed and gathering his things as quickly as he could. Tord slipped into a pair of pants and hid the empty bottle in his closet. His desk chair was removed from in front of the door and he opened it. Tom acknowledged the man with a quick nod before awkwardly brushing past him and sprinting down the stairs. As he toed on his shoes he could hear Tord distracting him with an excuse. It was the last thing he heard before he left the house and stepped onto the front porch.
Cool November air made the hair on his neck stand up and goosebumps form on his skin, despite the protection of his favourite sweater. He made his way down the sidewalk of the street Tord lived on, hands in his pockets and eye’s focused on the cement beneath his feet. It was a good 5 minutes of solid walking before he remembered what Tord had said.
“Regret not doing what? ” He whispered to himself. There could be a number of things he would regret not doing in high school, a lot of things he would regret not doing in general, but something he’d regret not doing with Tord…
Oh well, it was probably something stupid anyways.