been.... ages... since ive promised its release....but here i am. Sorry for cringe btw this story is so 2012 wattpad fic y/n coded 🙈🙈 I also changed some aspects like, is this a boarding school? A university? A college? Lol even idk, so if the schooling system seems strange, it's bc it is and at this point the theme of 'school' is only here for convenience of the plot haha so I've suddenly decided this is almost some sort of conservative university but with no uniforms required just bc I feel weird writing about characters that are like on the precipice between 17~18 bc it's been literally 5 years since I wrote this lol basically edging you all for half a decade. anyway, since i first wrote this, a LOT in my life has changed, which is why it has taken as long as it has

so it took my 5 years to write 8k words, and i just spent the last 2 days writing the remaining 12k if that doesnt tell you how awful my hyperfixations are
anyway pls enjoy, hope it was worth the 5 year wait, thanks to everyone for the support and patience, they helped me stay motivated, especially the one comment on ao3 reminding me 5 years had passed already. genuinely, if i hadnt read that i wouldnt have pushed myself to finish writing this lol let alone crank it out in 2 days time. it really activated my people pleaser side, which sounds insane but im kinda grateful. someone should ask me to clean my room so i can get my ass up finally

also this is heavily unedited, so sorry abt all the mistakes

Characters: Tord, Tom, Patricia (Pat genderbend), Edd, Matt

Gender: Female

WARNING: NSFW, slight exhibitionism and voyeurism, grinding, penetrative sex, proper english swearing! Fuck yeah, OOC Tom bc i made him more mischievous than the usual depressed bastard he is, also SO much dialogue omg im so sorry if its boring but a good chunk of this is just a shit ton of talking, no protection (use protection!!! this is fictional, babes)

Word count: 21k+

•

When Tom awakes in the morning with a yawn and a stretch, the memories of last night come flooding back to him and he cant help the hotness that rushes to his face-and, unfortunately, rushing down there, too. He closes his eyes in slight discomfort and breathes out through his nostrils. Sparing a glance to his crotch, he lifts the sheet that is wrapped around his torso and sighs defeatedly at the already semi-hard erection that is beginning to tent at the front of his boxers.

"Great. Some good ol' morning wood to start the day."

Taking a chance, he peels the sheets off his body and hauls himself from the bed with a soft squeak from the metal frame, wearily peering up at the bunk above him only to see a disarray of wrinkled sheets and the absence of Tord and the mystery girl from last night. He feels relieved yet simultaneously disappointed that he won't know who the girl is. But it's not like it bothers him that much.

Last night was a first for him, well, maybe for both him and Tord. Despite Tord's often flirtatious nature, he's never really brought anyone back to the dorm, let alone a risk such as the one he pulled. So why this girl?

Tom shakes his head, decidedly thinking that it's a bit too much to get his head in a twist so early in the morning, and decides a cold shower will suffice for the time being. He's prideful enough that he won't allow him to touch himself to a stranger that he doesn't even know the face of. God knows how awkward that will be if it ends up being someone he is actually familiar with.

He hisses as the chill of the droplets meets his back, but eventually, he feels his shoulders slacken as his body becomes used to the freezing temperature. And sure enough, his friend down below follows suit.

•

Amidst the chaos of his hectic life, it's the rhythmic thrum of metal strings and the deep resonance of its baritone tune that keeps Tom anchored, a steady pulse in a sea of endless stress. With effortless precision, he plucks at the checkered bass, each note a release valve for the pressures that threaten to overwhelm him.

Despite his penchant for recklessness and his casual attitude towards most aspects of life, there's a reverence in Tom's demeanor when he handles his beloved instrument. To him, his bass, affectionately named Susan, is a pristine oasis in the midst of life's tumult, untouched by the wear and tear of his chaotic existence. He handles it with a tenderness reserved for something sacred, a testament to the extra care he showers upon it.

Proudly, he declares to his friends that Susan is "the only woman in his life that could never do him wrong," a declaration of loyalty and devotion to the instrument that has stood by him through thick and thin. In its strings and resonant tones, he finds solace, a sanctuary from the storms that rage outside its wooden frame.

His friend Edd, the cheeky bastard he can be, retorts simply with "Only because women don't make the sounds you want when you try to play with them."

A good THWACK to the head and bark of laughter is heard as Tom sticks his tongue out at him.

"Go back to your mistress 'Ms Cola', knobhead."

The brunette brushes a stray tear from his eye, and the other friend, Matt, who is accompanying them also, is clutching his stomach from the fits of laughter that wracks over his form. A resignated sigh parts from Tom as he slumps back into his chair, turning his head to face in the opposite direction.

At this point the instrument is abandoned to the side by his outstretched legs. He makes no effort to continue playing as his eyes train on nothing in particular. He barely registers the sound of his name and conversation directed towards him as he makes a small non-committal hum from his throat. And it's then his mind accidentally flashes back to those events, and his heart skips a beat by a millisecond. If those noises sounded so delicious, think about how it would feel to have those legs wrapped around his own, hands taut and clutching at the sheets--

"Hey buddy, you in there somewhere?"

Tom snaps back into focus, blinking uncharacteristically owlishly at the other two, his face sweating and the beginnings of a barely-there blush blooming upon his cheeks. Again, really?

"Mate, why are you so sweaty?" Matt gives a strange look.

"...puberty."

Edd choked on the drink he was sipping on and makes a joke about him being a 'late bloomer'.

"Never mind me asking." His nose scrunches. "Don't think I want to hear whatever's going on with you there." Shifting in his seat so he leaned forward, back hunched and head leaning into his open palms, Edd looks over at the boy.

"You guys seen Tord lately? Bumped into him the other day, but he just kept giving me this stupid grin on his face. My bet is that Patricia finally said yes, however the bloody hell that happened."

Tom felt a whirring in his brain as he processed the possibility.

"Hmm. I don't want to say you're right, Edd, but that seems....possible. He was fucking--I mean, he's been kind of secretive lately, though... but maybe too secretive, you know what I mean?"

He's rubbing his chin as he thinks further.

"But don't you think that's also kind of weird? If it was Patricia, the bloke would probably be screaming about it to all our faces by now. If he can barely keep his own crush a secret, then there's no bloody way this guy could keep being in a relationship with her a secret. Let alone that." He mumbles the last part mostly to himself.

Matt quirks a brow at Tom's winding thoughts.

"Looks like someone's been up all night thinking. What's it to you to care?"

Tom sputters and feels a cold rush over his face.

"Well--y'know he's my roommate and all--so I would rather not have to walk into some gross rubbish like that! It's for my own bloody sake anyway." His arms are moving rather robotically now.

"Fair enough," Edd chimes in, "He's been a little more than chipper lately, don'tcha think? If that's the case, then good for him. Maybe he'll stop harassing the people within the poor girl's vicinity."

Tom picks Susan up as he can't help himself from mindlessly plucking at some strings whilst his mind wanders.

"Yeah, maybe."

•

You sat bored at your desk as the teacher continues to drone on and on about the multifaceted approach to universal something something food security something and then it all just becomes a blur as your thoughts mesh together, mind focused on more important instances. Before you know it, the lecture ends and the teacher says something about submitting your excursion forms for an upcoming class trip required to attend.

"Please be sure to write your student ID on top too, please!" She reminds the class. "Although it is an excursion, it's for educational purposes so it is mandatory you come with, so this will absolutely go towards your attendance."

You pull out your purse to fish out your ID and sigh annoyedly, silently cursing yourself. Must've left it in your room somewhere right?

"Fuck me. It'll be a hassle to get a new one. It's already been a week since I last saw the damn thing." You mumble to yourself and gnaw at your lip. You look up as Patricia passes by, giving her a polite nod her direction. You then stuff the document into your bag and sit for a bit before getting up and making your way over the school's library, a quick text to your friend to let them know you're making your way over.

A week passed since the incident with Tord, yet the nature of your relationship with him remains shrouded in uncertainty. Was it merely a fleeting moment, or did his words that night hold deeper significance? Despite the ambiguity, you find yourselves inexplicably drawn to each other, wandering aimlessly in the school courtyard, words mingling into a tangled mess as touches lingered.

The library offers a temporary refuge from the chaos of your thoughts. You greet your friend with a wave and a smile before settling in beside her. Textbooks open, you engage in conversation while tackling your latest assignment. But as time passes, the rhythm of work fades into the background, overshadowed by relentless thoughts of that euphoric night.

Half an hour slips by in a blur, your pen tapping anxiously against the desk as your mind drifts back to memories you can't seem to shake. Images of that night flood your thoughts at the most unexpected moments, disrupting your concentration like a relentless tide. Whether you're eating lunch or painting in art class, the memory of Tord consumes your mind, leaving you feeling restless and distracted-- and that poor classmate of yours victimised by you when your hand suddenly jerked, flinging paint onto their face when a particularly vulgar display lights up your imagination, leaving you hot and bothered.

Lost in a whirlwind of emotions, you struggle to focus on the task at hand, your thoughts consumed by the enigmatic connection you share with Tord. With a sigh, you resign yourself to the inevitable distraction, knowing that until you find resolution, your mind will continue to wander back to that fateful night.

You thump your head into the open pages of your textbook and groan internally. Jesus, man. Just keep it to yourself.

"You good there, mate? Any more of that, and the textbook will come to life just to bash your head in."

You crack a grin at your friend.

"I need help."

They look at you curiously and cock their head to the side.

"With what? School work? Romance? Murder?" They smile at their own joke.

"Firstly, I'm gonna ignore that. And secondly, well, sorta romance I suppose? I mean, hypothetically speaking, if you, I dunno, have a crush, but they like someone else, but they also kinda did stuff with you, would you believe they might kinda actually sorta like you back?"

So much for keeping to yourself.

"First off, congratulations! Secondly, what when and whom the fuck???" They practically bounce out their seat and into your face. "You screwed Tord????"

"Hold your applause." You chuckle and try to shush your friend in order to keep their excitement at bay. "We didn't, y'know, do it all the way through. Just some stuff that you normally wouldn't do with a friend."

They gasped. "Are you saying you wouldn't fuck me???"

You waved your hand in front of your face. "Oh no, don't get me wrong you are completely fuckable. I just wouldn't sneak into your room, wear your clothes and do all of that in front of Tom Ridgewell in the one night."

They smacked the table so hard you were afraid the librarian would actually wake up from her deep slumber and devour you both then and there.

"Fuck off!! You're pulling my leg."

Shhhh! A sharp warning coming from another student occupying the area.

To which that is wonderfully ignored by said friend.

You could only shrug with a certain air of confidence in your expression.

"Might be, might not."

They start smacking your arm repeatedly whilst you simply take the hits.

"You dirty coooww. Since when did you become a whore?" They wail. You could only 'shhh' them in fear someone else may intervene this incredibly private conversation happening in an incredibly open and public area

They eventually settle enough so you don't have to be fending for your life.

"So what, you two going out now?"

To that question you could only sigh.

"That's the thing, right. I have no idea. We've been doing this weird loop-the-loop around the courtyard and haven't done anything since. It's making me think it really was just a one night thing."

"Awe, bummer." They leaned into their hand and looked at you sympathetically. "Lil' ol' quiet you got their wet dreams catered to to last a lifetime at least, eh?"

They gave an 'oof' as you smacked the top of their head lightly and felt your cheeks heat up, a slight snicker from you.

"Shut up, girl. Like yeah that's great 'n all but I really like this guy, I think. Why does it have to feel so complicated?" You slump your head into your arms.

"Doesn't have to be, necessarily." She leans in real close now. "You've already made a first impressive introduction. He's thinking about you too, that's for damn sure. All you've gotta do now is...let him know this wasn't just some sweet mistake. Ohoho no. This time, my sweet pea, you need to show him you're worth a third taste after this. Mhm, yes, okay?"

"I don't really know what to do, to be honest. Shouldn't I just... talk to hi-?"

'Shhhhhhh!' She has the audacity to shush you herself now.

"Trust me." Is all she ushers with a devious twinkle in her eyes.

The talk with her really gets you thinking at this point. Is this really more of a do situation rather than a say situation? Maybe. Sometimes, it's so much more awkward to have to just talk about things rather than just switching off the front of your brain and letting the inner chimpanzee take over your feral instincts. If anything, it actually sounded quite nice.

You check your phone. 1.30pm.

Sigh. Time feels like it's been stretching on forever now. The fatigue slumps your shoulders down like a pair of heavy weights as you slouch down the hallway in contemplation of everything to come and everything that has come.

Steps lead you down the winding path with a slight squeak of the sneakers you don as you feel a clenching of your gut from the anticipation of when you'll next see him. Anxiety or butterflies? To-may-to, to-mah-to.

A familiar echo of laughter grabs your attention to the left and you feel that same sickening twist from your insides bundle into a tight knot.

Nevermind. Definitely anxiety.

The same piercing gaze that once dressed you down all those nights ago now locks onto yours, igniting a flicker of longing within you. A part of you yearns for him to break into a sprint down the hallway, sweeping you off your feet in a whirlwind of emotion. But reality has a cruel way of dashing such fantasies.

In an instant, those captivating eyes avert their gaze, tearing away from yours as if they were never there. It's then that you notice the small circle of companions surrounding him, including Patricia. Jealousy seeps into your veins, a bitter reminder of the distance between you.

Determined to maintain your composure, you quicken your pace, willing your feet to carry you farther away from the scene. Every step feels like an escape, yet you can't shake the sensation of being watched, as if every move is under scrutiny.

Lost in thought, you're scarcely aware of your surroundings until the sensation of grass beneath your shoes jolts you back to reality. Minutes have passed, and you find yourself standing in a secluded spot, far removed from the prying eyes and whispered conversations of the hallway

You continue staring at your dirt-ridden sneakers however, a hot flush on your face that stretches the span of your ears and down your neck from the apparent rejection of your boy of desires. The audacity to just look away like that?! As if he wasn't the one to initiate all this? Right?

Fuck, was it always this hard? You scratch the nape of your neck frustratedly, feet picking up pace. Is trying to find love in a generation of flings always this difficult? You felt almost childish in comparison to believe having a moment of lust with another meant more than just that. It's so stupid how simple this should be then. But are you going insane? Like, yeah, sure, it's not every day you get into such a specific dilemma. He likes her, you like him, but you both did stuff which you wouldn't do if you didn't like each other somewhat, and yet here you are now CONFUSED and FRUSTRATED and really fucking HORNY above all. And--and it's not every day an object within your peripheral gets closer, and closer, and closer, and--oh fuck.

"Oi! Hey, watch it! You're gonna--"

A force collides against your own body, and next thing you know the world shifts sideways and gravity's pull drags you downward along with the offender.

Great. Just really fucking great.

Nestled nicely in the swamps of water creeping up your skirt, you couldn't help the sense of dejavu smacking you across your face. In fact, it would be more accurate to say it absolutely body slammed you into the ground.

The guy next to you groaned.

"Jesus Christ, are you mad? Not really the kind of place to be taking a swim, well, is it?" The offender winces and wipes a stray leaf off of their face.

It's a guy. His voice was deep, and there seemed to be a perpetual sense of sarcasm in the way he spoke-dripping off of every word, whether he really was being sarcastic or not.

"You good, mate?" Yells another voice, although he's across the field as his voice is much quieter due to the distance. He shouts back a positive confirmation.

You looked up from where you sat and swiped away some wet strands stuck to your, eyes adjusting to see memorable spikes of hair from the person opposite you.

"Oh crap, I-." You choke on your words.

Fuuuuuuck.

This is possibly the second worst person you could have decided to literally crash into today.

Mental note: stay the hell away from any bodies of water from now on.

You whip your head to the side and stared wide-eyed at the very interesting grass and water. Mhm yes very interesting. What a lovely shade of...grass. So grassy and green. A grassy colour that suits the green of the grass. Remarkable.

"Do I know you?" The spikey-haired boy asked point blank. "Because you seem awfully familiar."

"No!" You answer a little too quickly. If it was, he didn't show any signs of suspicion towards it.

"Well, nice to meet you, stranger. Happy to find the person who's now responsible for my washing." He looks down and grimaces at the sport jacket now soaked in the pond. You look up to the sky and say a small prayer in your head. The last thing you needed was to get swept up in another situation--nonetheless a situation that would inevitably tangle itself in your already pre-existing one. Whatever god there is out there seemed to be pretty intent on rattling your once boring, albeit peaceful life, and is having way too much fun with this. You sigh, shoulders slumping just a bit.

"Responsible how?" It's almost laughable.

He motions his hands in a sweeping movement, which pans the view of the field. The baseball field.

"Well while you were stuck in your fantasies, I was just trying to, y'know, practice. Maybe if you looked where you were going-."

"Christ."

"-Then maybe the uniform I just washed today wouldn't be soaked right now. Hey, you listening?"

Some part of you wished the water would be deep enough to drown you in this moment.

"Yes. I mean, yeah. Okay." You coughed.

"Okay you'll do my washing?" He cocks a brow with a teasing lilt in his voice.

You raise your shoulders in a slight shrug. "Yes...?"

"I mean, it was a joke."

"Was it?"

"You're a weird girl," he remarks, pushing himself upright. His clothes cling to his legs, drenched from the impromptu dip in the lake. Extending a hand, he offers to help you up, his height striking you as he towers over you. His stature rivals that of Tord, perhaps even surpassing it, though you can't be sure if it's simply due to his hair adding extra inches. Regardless, he exudes a commanding presence that leaves you slightly flustered.

As you meet his gaze, you notice a subtle increase in your heart rate, a flutter of nerves dancing in your chest that you don't enjoy. Reflexively, you retract your hand as if it were singed by a sudden burst of heat. He doesn't seem to notice, preoccupied with wringing out his soaked shirt.

"Well, might as well get the name of the person whose laundry bill you're paying for. Name's Tom." He says while you both gather yourselves and step out of the pond with a disgusting squelch in your step. You wince.

"(Name)." You say in reply. "And I know who you are. Little upsetting you haven't taken the time to know the people in your year." You don't mean it to sound as salty as it comes out so you bite your tongue at that, eyes focused on your shoes. Not salty, just really fucking awkward. You chalk it up to the emotions prior before that haven't cleared yet and cough.

His eyes momentarily look up in thought before lighting up in recognition as he murmurs your name quietly. He motions toward the building just to the left of the field, asking if you happen to be the girl sitting by the library window most days. You blink thrice, surprised at having been noticed by him, and nod your head. He crosses his arms over his chest, his brows furrowed, and a silly grin stretches across his face. It's a strange expression, really, you think.

"But, listen, lady." Tom begins. "I only know how to do two things: my baby girl Susan and baseball." He indicates by holding up two fingers as if to emphasize his point.

Your eyes widen a little more at that, not realising Tom himself was already dating someone.

"A girl?"

"A bass." He proclaims proudly. "And the sexiest thing I've ever laid my eyes on."

You laugh genuinely, which Tom seems to grin at. Despite his rash and sarcastic demeanour, he's easy to get along with. Then you feel the sudden pang of guilt course through you, however, at remembering the night you shared with Tord, just mere inches from the current boy in front of you. . Insecurity creeps in, casting a shadow over your confidence, intensified by the chill that runs down your spine with the touch of the wind. You instinctively clutch your jacket tighter, hyperaware of the visibility of your body through the soaked shirt. There is not going to be a part two of this ridiculous fiasco. Nuh-uh. You look around to find an escape, or perhaps a story you can conjure to get out of this asap and clear your throat. You take a look at him, scenes of Tord and you flashing in the foreground of your mind and you shake your head to rid of the images once again. You think maybe it's best to not cause anymore unnecessary misunderstandings and decide against it, actually.

"Oiii, what's going on Tomski? Still waiting on you, mate!" Yells the voice from across the yard. You look behind to see a familiar ginger, hair spiked up and rigid as ever. Tom takes a glance behind him, yelling a 'hold on, just give me a sec!' then looking back at you with a grin.

"Well, this is super great meeting you, but believe it or not, I'm not actually a huge fan of standing soaked, head to toe, with some guy I pretty much just met officially. Soooo," you drag on and begin backing up slowly. "See ya?"

He shrugs at that.

"Fair point. Well, I hope that offer is still open for the laundry I'll be needing done."

"Seriously?" You cock your brow. Fantastic.

"Seriously. So yes, you may have my number. No need to say thanks, of course." He says, and makes the bold move to hold his palm out for your phone. You sigh and relent to his request with a bit of an overdramatised attitude. For a second the cheeky smirk he flashes you makes your heart skip a beat and you have to curse yourself for falling for people too easily. Maybe it's his confidence but in this moment you can't help but feel a budding attraction towards him. Some part of you feels disloyal towards Tord in this way, but you remind yourself it's not like that and you shouldn't have to feel guilt. Your thoughts are stopped when Tom clicks his tongue.

"Annnd, there." He hands your phone back to you in a matter of moments.

"I'll be expecting that phone call later down the line. See you later." He starts to back up and turn the opposite direction from you. "Oh-also, send me a text when you're back at your dorm. Just making sure you'll still be alive."

You scoff. "Are you caring for me now, or is that a threat?"

He walks backwards now, toward his destination. He makes a sort of jazz-hands motion with that consistent cheeky look on his face.

"Whichever you desire."

When you get back to your dorm room you tongue the inside of your cheek as you stare at the contact, now changed into fresh clothes, and you flop yourself onto the bed. On one hand, you could... use this as leverage. You try push the guilt away as best you can, but how crazy is this? You were literally given the perfect chance to reclaim Tord's attention on a silver platter and there's no way you can't not take advantage of this. As mean as it seems, this is a chance to do just that without even having to go out of your way to fabricate a whole other situation in order to do so. It wouldn't have been that easy anyways without having to possibly embarrass yourself in one way or another.

Your finger seems to hover over Tom's name now and you deliberate over the scenarios in your head, weighing the options. You click open messages and stare at your keyboard. What should you even say? Hey there? Sorry about before? For a few minutes you spend that time typing out and erasing anything and everything you put in. Gotta be nonchalant, but not too nonchalant that it looks like disinterest. And, it's gotta impressionable beyond a simple 'hello', right?

You bite your lip, thinking a little harmless flirting couldn't be so bad. You can't help the way your mind flits to scenarios leading beyond flirty messages, and you squeeze your thighs. Especially after that escapade you feel depraved. Images of Tom possibly giving you what you want and the satisfaction of possibly making Tord jealous gives you a guilty pleasure. It makes you hope that sort of jealously could manifest in ways that would finally give you your ideal fantasy of Tord finally fucking you. That idea alone gives you a surge of lust which ultimately clouds your judgement and you lick your lips at the delicious thought.

Fuck it. The sound of keys click away for a few seconds before you glance it over one last time.

Message sent

You turn over onto your back and feel a familiar wounding in your gut, a cross between anxiety and horniness. It irks you and you're too stubborn to even relieve yourself as it feels as if you'll lose to some kind of non-existent standoff. At least that's what you try to tell yourself. After that night, you can't to seem to satisfy yourself properly anyway, spending sleepless nights and hours trying and failing as you will to get off to something. Even the usual fic couldn't save you from this.

You flutter your eyes open and close as a wave of exhaustion hits you suddenly. It's then you feel your eyes shut, feeling a sleep take over you. Just as you feel that, the dinging of a notification setting off wakes you. You grumble angrily and check to see it was a reply from Tom, which promptly makes you sit up. You click open his messages and read.

Cute. Guess I'll definitely be seeing you around more often, yeah?

The reply makes your heart flutter and you kick your feet in the air. You quickly reply back to him and you find yourself smiling into your pillow. The way he talks is quite straightforward, but you actually appreciate it after all this frolicking nonsense that's been happening with you and Tord. It feels... refreshing, to say the least. You talk back and forth for a while, you laughing at a few things he says, until he sends another text.

You know, maybe I should have offered you to wear something warm. He flirts. Or, perhaps, someone warm.

You gulp. Is this going where you think it is...?

Someone? You ask.

Mhm. You looked good, you know. It's a shame I didn't get to see much of you. I bet you were cold, I could practically see you under that shirt of yours

You gasped and flushed hotly at his sudden boldness. Nonetheless, you found yourself typing back excitedly.

And did you like what you saw...?

You sit up, head back up against the headboard of the bed. You wait, anticipating his reply. After a few moments, he sends a text that starts to make your heart race a little more.

I did... but not enough. Maybe you could show me just what I wasn't able to see?

He laid out the bait. Now it was a matter of whether you should take it or not. You bit your lip. Fuck, nothing's happened yet, but you were already getting excited. Not wanting to drag this out, you lift up the end of your top, holding it between your teeth, showing just enough so you could see your cleavage, but not enough to show everything. You squeezed your arms together to emphasize your breasts and snapped a pic, sending it to him hastily. It takes him a minute or two to reply, but you're not disappointed in his response.

Fuck. I knew you were a tease from the start. You're lucky I'm not there, otherwise I would have devoured them myself.

He sends a pic of him hand hard beneath his shorts and you stare in disbelief of whether this is really happening or not. Excited, you finally take a a full pic of your chest and send that also. He must be frazzled because this time he has a bunch of typos in his text that make you laugh to yourself.

So what would you do if you were here? You ask, if not only to boost your ego a little more. It takes him just a little bit but you get a text back.

Where to start? If you were here I would play with you a bit. Maybe eat you out. I would bend you over my desk and tease your cute little hole with only my mouth until you beg for even just a pinky inside you.

Fuck, that was so hot. The vivid imagery has already becoming slick and you start to touch squeeze your breast, playing with your nipples as you read his words.

Fuck, those tits of yours look so divine. I would lean over you and palm them in my hands, tease my dick along your wet pussy. I wanna watch your face as you cry desperately for me, so cute.

Your hand begins to sneak past your underwear and you're not surprised to feel how wet you are now. You slide a finger up and down, wishing they were someone else's hands. You circle your clit and jump at the sensitivity. Has it always felt this sensitive? Just as you're about to send another reply, your phone begins to ring. Tom's name lights up and your heart hammers in your chest. You pick up tentatively.

"Tom...?" You almost whisper his name.

"Hey, beautiful. Fuck, sorry, I just needed to hear your voice." Maybe it's because of the phone but you swear his voice is an octave deeper than before. Just hearing him doesn't help the growing hotness in your abdomen, and you whimper softly at the sound of his voice as you touch yourself. He must have heard it fairly through the receiver as you hear a sudden sharp intake of breath from his side. He groans.

"Shit, are you touching yourself?"

You give a hum in reply and he grits his teeth at that.

"I can hear how wet you are from here. I haven't touched you, and yet here you are. Tell me how wet you are for me." You hear a zip and you're inclined to believe that even Tom's now touching himself in tandem.

You let out a stuttering breath.

"I-I'm so wet for you, Tom. If you were here, fuck, you would just slide into me completely. I would take all of you. I want to feel you fold me over and hold me down. Tease me and make me wait." You gasp as you stroke over your clit. "I want your cock so bad, hmh."

He lets out a groan.

"Naught thing. You're leaking all over the bed, aren't you? Do me a favor and put those little fingers of yours inside your cute pussy."

You moan as he says this and do as he says. One finger, two fingers. You stretch yourself open and squeeze.

"Haa fuck, Tom."

"Yes, that's it, baby." You can hear his hand shifting up and down along his length through the speaker. "Go faster. Stretch yourself open. I need you to prepare for the next time I see you."

You place the phone onto your chest now, both hands at work. One of them works along the inside of your walls, stroking along them at a steady pace and moaning, meanwhile the other works on circling your clit and rubbing in pace. The pressure begins to build up more.

"I'll show you, when you're here. I'll have you over my lap and stretch you wider. Ruin you so you'll never touch yourself without begging me to be there. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Come on baby, show me. Let me hear."

Your laboured breathing could be heard through the other side as you moan into the speaker. You curse and speed up your pace, breathlessly whimpering Tom's name which in turn makes him groan. No backing down now, you keep going, voice growing louder and becoming less restrained. You're so wet it reverberates around the room and yet you don't seem to care about the noise or if anyone were to hear you. Your hand keeps working your body, and you bring the one that's on your clit back up to pinch at your nipple and squeeze at your tits.

"Yes, that's it, good girl. I can hear you so well. You going to cum? Show me how bad you want me?" Tom seems to be speaking, his mind running on pure lust as he doesn't have to think about what to say. His words drag out the pressure that continues to rise and rise in your gut. You're so damn close. Moving faster and faster your moans increase. Sooo close. Your hand burns but you're too far gone to stop. Just a little more-yes yes yes yes

Your eyes snap open. Huh?

You sit up. You're in your room. Everything is cast in orange, the sun beginning to make its way down. When did you pass out? Fuck, wait, no.

You hastily open your phone, hand anxiously hovering over Tom's name as you press it. You're not sure if you're relived or annoyed, but you realize all those messages you sent...weren't there.

A dream.

A stupid, sexy, wet dream.

About Tom.

You slap your cheeks out of sheer embarrassment. Have you no shame?! You met him once and now you're already officially out of your mind having full blown sex fantasies of him. You're so depraved since the last sexual encounter that you suppose your brain will just pick and choose anyone within your proximity, basically no better than an animal in heat, you think. These thoughts were completely intrusive- against your will!

You practically pull the hair out your head as you let the events process through your mind. It seems you've been feeling an awful amount of guilt these days, and you do everything to smack the impending thoughts away. Deciding it's best, you peel the covers from your body and get up. The dream must've made you real thirsty because your throat clings onto itself as if you've never had even a sip of water in your life. You chug down maybe three glasses in a row, gulping it down desperately, whether as a way to banish the thoughts and wash it all down, or to quench your actual thirst? Both.

So you stand there, glass in hand, staring into nothingness as you recollect the images playing in your head. You could still feel the stickiness clinging to your underwear, but now much much more aware of the desire that pools deep inside you also. You exhale, an ache simmers within at the shame that heats your body.

Your phone lays on the bed, abandoned, as notifications ping and light up the screen. Tom laundry sent you a message.

•

The sound of the door clicks shut as Tom comes bustling into the room. Tord looks up from his bed where he's sat reading some manga and notices the abnormally drenched appearance of his friend.

"Going for a new look today?"

Tom nonchalantly drops his bag beside his desk, flinging his dripping jacket over the back of his chair with a careless flick. As he vigorously shakes his hair to rid it of moisture, much like a dog would, he elicits an irritated glare from the devil-horned boy nearby.

The buzz of his phone catches Tom's attention, prompting him to fish it out from his back pocket. With a casual demeanour, he idly scrolls through notifications while standing by the door, releasing a quiet chuckle through his nose upon stumbling upon a video clip. It depicts a hapless individual inadvertently pulling their friend into a lake, leaving both of them drenched. He places his phone on the desk to his right and looks towards Tord.

"Do you know a girl named (name)?"

For a second there Tord's heart stops at the mention of said girl, wondering if they had been found out, and that today was now the day of judgement. He breathes out and answers as coolly as he can.

"Uh-huh."

By the way Tom's attention doesn't waver from his phone, he doesn't seem suspicious whatsoever. This reassures him for a bit.

"She's pretty cute. Actually, I got her number today."

It's almost as if a spark strikes through his body. Since when did...? They know each other...? He chalks it up to just feelings of surprise, and perhaps convinces himself that this is one of those pure coincidences. It is a coincidence, right? There's no way...

He clears his throat.

"So, uh, how did you get her number?" He begins focusing on the manga in his hands with more determination. Though, he can't seem to get past the third line which he insistently reads over and over and over again, a budding frustration building inside. Whether it is because of the topic at hand or the manga itself, he cares not enough to admit even to himself. And a large part of him feels sort of stupid and behind; he doesn't even have her number, of all things. Maybe a few steps were missed along the way.

"Why? Just crashed into her, is all."

He looks up at his friend quizzically.

"Crashed?"

"Yeah, at the park just outside the baseball field. Went flying into the pond." He laughed amusedly. He shrugs his his clothing off one by one now, much to the disdain of Tord, as he leaves behind his soaked clothing across the floor of the room. He cuts through with a 'use the laundry bin, you goof' at Tom who only continues toward the shared bathroom while talking.

"I said I'd send her the bill for my laundry."

As the shower runs, Tord finds himself alone with his thoughts. He's aware that he's been prolonging this, unintentionally letting a divide grow between them. It's not deliberate, but amidst his myriad distractions, he's failed to grasp the rift forming. Lately, his schedule has been overrun with commitments, leaving little room to address the situation with you properly. It all seemed to happen in a whirlwind, catching him off guard. Now, entangled in this unexpected connection, he can only hope you haven't been too hurt by his absence. Yet, opportunities to reconcile have been scarce, overshadowed by constant company.

Glancing at the crowded calendar, he feels the weight of his obligations. While he values his counselling work and its perks, moments like these make him question the convenience of it all. Lost in thought, he's startled when Tom emerges from the bathroom, signalling the end of his solitary reverie.

Unlocking his phone, Tord is met with an ad for the Zombie Pirates, triggering memories of your shared experiences. Reflecting on the path that brought them to this juncture, he wonders about your whereabouts and the person you truly are. Understanding your interests and routines might offer a blueprint for their next encounter. If only he could muster the courage to confront his emotions and bridge the gap between them. Once he, uh... stops being a pussy and faces his feelings.

Tord hums to himself curiously with a bite of his tongue, muttering a, "Anyway, what's up with that girl and water?"

Tom scratches his ear non-caringly, phone now out in his grasp. He walks over to the bed now. "D'you say something?"

"Nothing. Give me that." Tord snatches the phone out of his hand, a small 'hey' resounding from the spiked boy. "Give me her contact."

"Woah, hey." He fights to snatch the phone away from him again. "This is a violation of so many things: my privacy, and hers, also. Isn't it code to not go around sharing contacts to weird perverts like you?" He's fighting off the devil-haired boy now, pulling the phone away.

"Weird perv- no! Quit it, you dickhead. Besides, are you seeing her?" He huffs, struggling.

"No...?" Tom continues to push his face away, but Tord remains determined.

"Then there's no violation in ethics." He argues, and snatches it from him again just as he finds an opening. Quickly, he memorizes the contact and inputs it into his own device whilst the spikey-haired boy crosses his arms in a state of defeat, rolling his eyes(?).

"Well, how do you know her then?" He points at the brunette, interested in understanding the sudden investment the other boy is this girl. Tord looks around for an excuse, looking up an down the room to find something worthwhile.

"Oh, you know- just a friend of a friend." He speaks nonchalantly, flipping over another page of the manga he's placed in front of him. "I borrowed something from her a while ago but just haven't returned it yet."

"Uh-huh. Right." He squints his eyes at him.

"I told you, there's nothing--"

Suddenly the door swings open, a very proud Matt standing with his hands on his hips and chest puffed out a heroic sort of pose.

"Gooood evening, lads!" He looks over at Tom and laughs. "How was your swim, mate? You look refreshed."

Tom snorts, muttering a 'fuck off' and flips him off.

Chuckling at Tom's response, Tord gestures toward Matt dramatically. "Ah, here comes the hero of the hour. Saving the day with his dramatic entrances as usual."

Matt flashes a grin, sauntering further into the room. "Someone's gotta keep things interesting around here, right?" He claps a hand on Tord's shoulder before turning to face the group. "So, what's the plan, gentlemen?"

Tord shakes his head and sighs. "Nothing today. Got stuff to plan for the open day, remember? I've been busting my arse over it the past month."

Matt flops himself down onto the bottom bunk of the bed.

"Mate, I don't get why you do this-way too much hassle. Just take a leaf outta my book and-" With a flourish, he digs into his pants pockets, retrieving a flyer thrust upon him by some overzealous student on campus, and crumples it aggressively. "-bin the whole damn schedule." With a cocky grin, he hurls the balled-up paper across the room, aiming for the bin by the desk, but it careens wide. Tord emits a disapproving grunt, perturbed by both Matt's cavalier attitude and the ensuing littering.

Undeterred, Matt chuckles to himself as he rises, sauntering toward the desk. Meanwhile, the other two carry on their conversation, uncaring of the ginger's movements.

Matt bends down, retrieving the crumpled paper tucked beneath the table. As he does, his attention is snagged by a white card lying face down nearby. Intrigued, he plucks it up, straightening with a curious tilt to his head as he flips it over for inspection. Huh. Interesting. He thinks to himself. Just as he's about to ask about the card, Tord's voice breaks his concentration, drawing him into a conversation about preparations for the open day. Momentarily distracted, Matt absently tucks the card into his pocket, seamlessly transitioning into the banter with his friends. Laughter ensues and the conversation continues, the mysterious object slipping from his mind entirely.

"Anyway, wanna head down to the corner shop with me, fellas?" Tom asks, throwing a dry coat on as he reaches around to grab his keys.

"Not today." Tord rolls over, already yawning. "I'm going to hit the hay a little earlier tonight."

Matt stands, throwing his own jacket on too. "I'll come. I need a refill on some snacks. Night, mate--I'll see you later."

They all voice their goodbyes, Tom and Matt stepping out into the outside which is starting to darken due to the setting of the sudden and the general gloom of the UK skies. They begin to chat idly amongst themselves along the way to the store, occasionally kicking away stray pieces of litter in the way, or some loose pebble that makes a satisfying click when connected by a kick from the tip of their shoe. Eventually they make it to the store, picking out a few snacks as they continue their light chatter.

"I've been meaning to tell one of youse, but the other night I sorta caught Tord having it off with some girl up in the dorm." The blond confesses. Matt's head snaps to the left, eyes wide as he stares at the man beside him, shocked by his words.

"Shit- really? Bloody hell, that's one hell of bold move, innit?" He guffaws at the sudden turn of events. "Go on, I'm all ears."

"Poor bloke thought I was a sleep. I felt bad, really, having to lie like that, but I felt he was acting just a lil' off his rockers that day. Well, I was right after all, wasn't I? They were shagging it up on the top bunk, thought there was a fucking earthquake for a second, then I thought 'hang on, what's that noise?'"

Matt nudges his side, cackling. "Jesus Christ, this bloke. You know who it was? Couldn't have been you-know-who, right?" He laughs quietly to himself, a reference to the time Tord's crush on Patricia had almost been revealed to the girl herself during a Harry Potter movie premiere, so now they reference her in this specific way during conversations.

Tom looks off to the side in thought, scratching his chin. "Don't think so. Thought maybe it was to be honest, but I didn't recognise their voice very well."

"Not that you would have." He snorts. "Doubt you'd be recognising any girls moans."

Matt gets rewarded with a hit to head as he laughs, clutching his stomach. He opens his eyes through the haze of tears and sees a figure flash by and disappear, but he pays no mind to it as the boys carry on their bickering.

•

"Hello?"

Just as quickly as the call begins, Tord ends it quickly right after, finger immediately tapping the end button on the screen. He rubs his hands over his face, completely irritated with his own self for chickening out. It's childish of him, but he honest to god has never been great with being smooth around women in particular. He pockets the cell-phone and continues with his work. With steady hands, Tord carefully connects the intricate network of electrical parts and circuits that form the robot's inner workings. He deftly solders tiny wires and meticulously places delicate components, each one chosen with precision for its specific function.

The air is alive with the soft hum of machinery and the occasional crackle of electricity as Tord works tirelessly, his focus unwavering. He consults schematics and reference manuals, his brow furrowed in concentration as he navigates the complex maze of wires and connectors.

As the final pieces fall into place, he steps back to admire his handiwork momentarily. The robot stands tall and proud, a testament to his skill and dedication. With a flick of a switch, it springs to life, its mechanical limbs whirring, though unable to move due to the constraints that bound its limbs to the metal table it lays upon.

"Looking great, Larsson." A voice calls out. He shifts his focus towards the voice,

His hands can barely grip the device in his hands, the sweat gathering in his palms making it much too difficult to hold it steadily. He can't help the way his nerves are set when that familiar head of brunette saunters their way over to him, an ever-present smile of their face.

"Looks like you'll be yards ahead for the open," she says, eyes inspecting the running machinery before her. "May I?" She gestures towards the remote in his hands, to which he passes to her easily. She clicks the remote which activates the robot's mechanics, it's large clawed hand reaching out towards nothing in particular, and she coos in excitement.

"The mechanisms are smooth, and there seems to be no issue with the wireless connection between the remote and internal-- Tord?" She asks, concern in her voice as she notices the absent expression on his face, as if he's not looking at anything in particular. He shakes his head, pulled out of his reverie with a 'hm?'

She sighs, placing the remote on the table beside them, one hand on her hip. "What's with the gloominess, chap?"

He bites the inside of his cheek and looks away, not wanting to talk much about what's really on his mind.

"Let me guess - trouble in paradise?" She asks, prompting Tord to sputter nonsensically.

"I'm going to take that as a yes. So what's the matter?" It was nosy of her to try pry into other's love lives like this, Tord also not really expecting an interaction like this with the one he's called his crush for a while now. He lets out an exhale, unable to look her in the eyes as his hands fidget explaining his predicament as awkward and unsure, and speaking of details such as bringing you back to his dorm (but also making sure to exclude... certain other details, of course).

"So you just... didn't do anything about it, after the fact? Even though a week's already passed?" She side eyes him. "I'm no love expert or anything, but not shooting your shot is basically worse than trying and screwing up, right? It sounds awkward because you made it awkward, correct?" Obviously, he was aware of how dumb and selfish he's been, but hearing it come from someone else, none the less someone like Patricia, has undoubtedly exemplified his feelings of shame and regret towards the situation. She sees the overcast look on his face and offers a smile of reassurance.

"Sounds like you gotta make a call later. Or better yet, talk to her in person." She pats his back in a friendly display of affection. "I can tell you like her. If you didn't--well, I'm sure we wouldn't be having this conversation, right?" She checks her watch now, noticing the time and curses quietly under her breath.

"I have to get going, but take it easy, 'kay? See you around." And just like that she takes off, Tord once again left to his lonesome, now stuck contemplating her words.

Just earlier, on the other end, you stare at the screen a little perplexed, then sigh annoyedly. Must be those dumb fucking spam calls again.

Number blocked.

•

As the end of the semester draws near, each passing day feels like a swift descent toward the finish line. Everywhere you look, desks are buried under piles of paper-be it in your dorm room, the library, or the café tables you briefly occupy. Workers steal glances at your hunched figure, noticing the deep bags beneath your eyes the size of craters, evidence of countless sleepless nights sacrificed to the relentless grind. You abandon any semblance of makeup or cosmetics, fully immersed in the digital confines of your electronic study prison, where years' worth of effort and emotion are imprisoned. With weary determination, you take another bite of the pastry on your plate, a fleeting indulgence in the midst of your academic odyssey.

Another week has passed by without a hitch, and at this point anything that has happened anytime before are propped in the back of your mind as of now as you drown in the excess of assignments that decorate your itinerary for the semester's end.

You're sitting in a café nearby the school that you frequent often when you hear the sound of the bell above the door ring softly, voices entering the humble abode. You're invested in the screen in your hands, choosing the rest briefly, and don't pay it any mind as their voices mesh together, seemingly laughing at something that was said. It's hard to tell what they were talking about as you chose to keep your head downward. You fail to notice a certain person ambling up towards your table until a hand lands itself squarely on top of the notes you were so earnestly trying to study, making you crane your head upwards to look at said person.

"Lookie, lookie. Pond girl." Tom teases and hovers over you. He

"So...no text?" He says, feigning hurt.

You gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I've been...caught up. I didn't mean to leave you hanging for so long. I had full intentions to text you until, well." You gesture to your table covered in an assortments of files and papers.

Patricia looks over questioningly, curious in her gaze as she looks back over at Tom.

"Pond girl?" She questions. She looks over at you and smiles to greet you, to which you reciprocate, even if you do feel a pang of insecurity that looms around you every time you're within her proximity.

"Yep. It's an ongoing joke between her and I." He roughly pats you on your back playfully. The sudden contact makes you shiver and you subconsciously attempt to pull away from his touch, much like two magnets repelling each other.

"That name's way too corny." You mutter to yourself as you bring your hot mug to your lips and take a sip. If Tom heard, he pays no mind and continues to laugh about the story, recalling the events from your previous interaction.

"Ohhh. So that's pond girl?" Quips a voice from behind. Matt grins in amusement. "You know, I thought I recognised you from somewhere--or were you in any of my previous classes by any chance?" He rubs his chin in contemplation for a second, muttering the last part mostly to himself. " Anyway, nice to meet you. If you're pond girl, you can call me handsome man." He gestures to himself with an all-too cocky grin.

"Or just call him Matt." Tom deadpans in response to his friend's flamboyancy.

You chuckle sheepishly at the unexpected interruption, though inwardly a tad perturbed at being pulled away from your work. You keep any hint of annoyance from showing on your face, instead engaging in the conversation with your classmates. The chatter continues for a while, but as you glance at the time on your phone, you realize the next class is fast approaching.

With a quick apology for having to leave abruptly, you begin to pack up your belongings. Your classmates wave you off, unperturbed by your departure as you assemble your things and stand from your seat.

"Oh, by the way," Tom says, capturing your attention before you could leave. "You free during the open day?" You tilt your head curiously, looking up at him.

"Well, I do have a forty minute shift from two o'clock, but nothing else after. Why?"

"Well, uh, I have a performance just around three in the afternoon if you want to swing by the auditorium at C Block. You can come if you want, but you do still owe me, after all, right?" He then flashes a smile, which was came off as strangely shy but has your stomach fluttering nonetheless. You nod your head, voicing your promise to see him, and it's actually really cute to see the way he even becomes visibly excited, despite probably trying to hide it.

Your things are now either gathered in your arms or placed in your bag, but when you finally leave they continue on their own way too, following suit. Just before, Matt's head lights up and he motions for them to stop.

"Oh, crap--that reminds me. I thought I recognised them." Matt mumbles the part to himself. He rummages through the pocket of his jacket, eventually fishing out a white card, and hands it to Tom. "Forgot I had this. I don't have their contact, so could you give it to them some time?"

"Where'd you get this?" Tom asks, turning over the ID card in his hands.

"From your dorm. No idea how it got there though. Maybe you accidentally grabbed it when you both fell into the pond last week?" He thinks, scratching his ear in thought. The other boy simple shrugs, not thinking too much into it as he slides the card into his bag and zipping it back up.

"Beats me." Patricia watches the interaction, not really saying much, books clutched towards her chest. "It was hard to see anything when it happened."

•

With barely time to spare, Tord finds himself working longer and longer hours at the laboratory, pulling his weight to make the deadline. Sadly, he's been unable to meet with the baseball team due to the gruelling hours he's had to work since picking up extra work from the council.

Tord is pacing around his dorm, wondering if he should call you as just an excuse.

"Fuck it." He swipes to call your number. It rings for a couple seconds before a dull beep motions the call was not active. Huh. Strange. He tries to call again, but the same thing happens. It's after maybe the third attempt he realises what it may be, and he feels a twist in his gut. He's been blocked. But how? Did you know it was his number?

Tord's pacing intensifies as he grapples with the sudden realization that he's been blocked. His mind races with questions, each one more unsettling than the last. Did you intentionally block his number? Was it a mistake? Or worse, is this your way of signalling that you no longer want anything to do with him?

Frustration mounts as he attempts to rationalize the situation, but the twist in his gut refuses to ease. With a heavy sigh, he resigns himself to the possibility that he may never know the answers. In a last-ditch effort to salvage the situation, he considers reaching out through other means, but uncertainty holds him back.

Feeling defeated, Tord collapses onto the chair, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air, leaving him grappling with a sense of longing and regret. As the minutes tick by, he's left to wonder what he should have done. He's gotta talk to you.

•

You bite down on your tongue as you carry a stack of papers in your arms, your vision being mostly obscured as you make your way down the school hall. You think they'd start sending more things electronically but no, they would rather remain old fashioned with a stick up their arse, never mind the complete waste producing hundreds of flyers is despite the fact literally everyone has moved onto the digital age eons ago. Just send an email or put it up on socials, literally all these flyers will end up in the bin at some point anyways.

You continue a steady pace towards the productions classroom, your task set on delivering these flyers to the room as a favour to your friend for previous errands she had run for you, as well as serving as a brief get away from your own assignments- aka your very real and valid reasoning for procrastinating. Although, you didn't expect there to be so many as the box within your arms can barely hold the pile above that threatens to topple over at any given moment. You shift the box slightly, hoping to adjust in a comfier position, although almost killing yourself in the process as you feel the stack begin to give way.

"Let me get that for you."

You feel the relief in the strain along your arms as the load lightens suddenly. You sigh audibly, already grateful towards the kindness of the stranger. Although, you felt the way his finger tips grazed your breasts, which shouldn't have been an issue if you weren't still wound up from the piling stress and increased sexual frustrations from your life. You clear your throat, trying to ignore the sensation, voice pitched back to what you considered normal.

"Gosh, thank you so much--" You turn towards your saviour but instantly feel all the moisture in your mouth dry up when you look up at familiar hazel eyes. Your face drops and you see the subtle way his own face shifts, eyes widening for only a fraction of a second before he clears his throat.

"Hey, long time no see." He chuckles awkwardly, but it doesn't lighten the atmosphere any less as he gauges you for any signs of rejection. "You look busy, where you headed off to?" He asks, clearly trying to redirect. For some reason the nonchalant demeanour of his feels more painful than if he were to just straight up ignore you. Still, it was difficult to ignore your own nagging emotions that was causing your stupid insides to flutter despite the irritation you feel towards the man. Was it because you were still staring into his eyes longer than the appropriate amount of time? Has he noticed, you think?

You turn your head, finally ripping your locked gaze away from his.

"Just... dropping some papers off for a friend. Uhm, thanks, but you really didn't have to." You continue to walk now, steps a little faster than usual to match the pace of your racing heart. Him, being taller, had no effect as his long legs continued paced strides beside you, diligently following your lead as he contemplates what to say. He looks down at the stack of fresh prints, reading the boldened words.

"School's open day, huh? How's the preparation going for you?" he asks, making light conversation. You hum noncommittally, trying to appear composed, which was hard to do when you've suddenly become conscious of the sweat pooling in your palm and the hastened pace of your steps.

"Busy. I haven't been able to focus on much else other than that and all the other bullshit assignments the teachers are throwing at us." You huff exasperatedly.

"Tell me about it. There's basically no time, especially this being my last year here I've been trying to make the most of everything." Oh. You almost forgot Tord was a couple years your senior, meaning he would already be graduated by the time you get to within the next couple years.

"That... must be great, right? You can finally breathe without the stress of school getting in the way." You take a small misstep which makes your shoulder nudge into his side, and you feel his hand come around to the small of your back to help balance you. You look up at his face and you swear his hand stays in place a touch longer than it should have, which makes your body heat up instantly at his touch.

"Well, its not all that great," he says, his eyes roaming the soft features of your face. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he tries to prolong the eye contact. You close your eyes, praying the images that float through your ruined mind stay away. You hope he doesn't have the ability to read minds in this moment lest he runs into the unsavoury imagery prompted by this insatiable brain of yours.

You continue on the path ahead, and make a turn, not far from your destination now, your steps increasing in vigour.

"Besides, I was hoping to 'crash' into you again, like, uhm, last time."

He offers a forced smile, attempting to lighten the mood with a corny joke, but you seem oblivious, lost in your own thoughts. The comment is left unacknowledged by you as you don't even face his direction. The resulting awkward silence weighs heavily on him, a pang of rejection gnawing at his insides. His cheeks flush slightly as you enter the room at last. He goes to reach out towards you just before you enter, your name at the tip of his tongue, when suddenly you spring forward.

"Edd!" You call out. You light up at the sight of another friend, your demeanour shifting dramatically, and you make an instant bee-line towards them, engaging in lively conversation.

The sudden change doesn't escape the notice of the devil-horned boy, who watches awkwardly at first, a knot of unidentifiable emotions churning in his gut. He gives a wave over to him as well, to which Edd reciprocates, surprised to see his close friend.

"Whatchu doing out here, mate?" He asks, clasping his hand around his and pulling him in for a quick hug. "Thought your nose would be pressed into some desk at the labs," he says, to which Tord shakes his head.

"I'm not as busy now since I'm basically wrapping things up at the moment." He places the stack of papers atop the desk where Edd motions for him to place it. "Besides, I had no idea you two knew each other."

You smile awkwardly. "Yeah, he helped me with some stuff when I first came here, and we just happened to have a few mutual classes together." You explain. Edd's eyes light up, suddenly remembering something as he ushers you forward.

"Speaking of which, I actually need your expertise. Even a senior like me needs help." He jokes, to which you quip back with your own commentary. Tord watches the exchange, noticing how relaxed you seem compared to the rigidity of your personality around him usually. Even before the incident you always seemed stiff. Feeling suddenly third-wheeled with no room to talk to you one on one, Tord waves you guys off with a strained smile, announcing his departure. Feeling a sudden surge of courage, you turn around towards him.

"Thanks heaps for helping me, I was hoping you wanted to do... some... thing..." You trail off, only to be met with Tord's retreating figure as he makes a swift exit, feeling like he's overstayed his welcome. "... later."

Edd shoots the boy a puzzled look at his odd behaviour. "That was odd. Anyway, I just need a copy of the economics materials with the professor's annotations. Accidentally deleted it while rearranging files on my computer," he sighs, clearly frustrated. You empathetically nod, promising to send it later from your dorm. He expresses gratitude before hurriedly departing to parts unknown. As he scurries off, you feel something poke your shoulder and look over.

"Ew. What was that just before?" Your friend asks, eye brow raised. "I thought you and Tord were supposed to be all over each other-- so what the eff was that just now?" She really doesn't soften the blow with her words whatsoever.

"What do you mean?" You ask, a little defensive.

"What d'you mean 'what do I mean'? That was worse than watching my sixty year old aunt redownload Hinge." She smacks her lips. "He basically raised a white flag and ran away."

"Did it really look like that?" You ask, hands on your face.

"Yah. I'm just saying, from my perspective it did not look great. You gotta stand up or something, girl. There's no way you gotta put up with these childish--"

"Childish?"

"--and immature--"

"Immature...?"

"--antics. You take too much shit. I'm not trying to tell you how to handle anything, but shouldn't you be more angry about this?"

You think about her words, slowly nodding your head. "I should feel angrier, shouldn't I...?"

"Yes, and you know what you should do about it? Go reclaim your sexuality! You're too young to be dealing with this. There's so many other guys just like him." She's shaking you by the shoulders now, expression livid. "Go home! Just make sure you forget about him."

You know, there's always something about these talks with your friend that sometimes has you thinking the most arcane thoughts. Though you could say she's rather dramatic at times, it would be a bigger lie to say that she had no effect or influence over you, when that was simply just not true. That's why you found yourself storming your way back to your dorms with a renewed vigour to 'reclaim your sexuality' or something to that effect--whatever that meant.

You unlock the door to your room and haphazardly toss your bag on the floor, shoes and everything strewn across the carpeted area. For a minute you just stare down at your feet, thinking. You look back towards the door and then at your bed, gnawing at your nail. Door. Bed. Door. Bed. Door. Bed. Door.

Fuck.

You stride towards the door and click the lock. Your roommate shouldn't be back until late. Plus it's better to keep it safe right? You walk back towards your bed. Beside it is a dresser which you use to store personal items. You pull it open, retrieving an item shortly after that's wrapped in a silky cloth.

There's an excitement in your movements since it's been a while since you've taken it out, so you quickly throw off your clothing and jump into the bed, sheet over your half-naked body.

You let everything that's happened to you as a bait to inspire your imaginations further as your eyes slipped close. You managed to lay back for a few solid minutes until you could no longer ignore the familiar deep ache inside. Even if you were still mad, it was unbelievable that you were still horny. The interaction with Tord--the dream about Tom. You felt guilty, but god damn if those thoughts didn't ignite your senses. The words from your friend still echo true in your head.

The more you pondered, the more you felt such resistances ebb away. It was impossible to leave the dorm as you are right now, let alone find to find someone to just screw around with, but right now... you had time for yourself, at the very least, which was difficult to come by these days.

Your hand slips beneath the sheets before you even realise, fingertips grazing along your naval and eliciting a shiver. Your fingers glide across the expanse of your curves, your other hand reaching beneath your shirt to to brush against your nipple only to elicit a sharp gasp and involuntary jerk at the sudden shot of pleasure that throbbed to your core. You knew you were worked up, but not to this extent. At one, your thoughts returned to the dream and the memories of the two men, mind recalling all the shameful details of Tord's lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flickering over the sensitive bud, and the disgustingly hot voice of Tom's when it dropped an octave, whispering shameful commands into your ear.

A soft moan slipped past your lips, fingers pinching the aching bud and tugging. Your other hand traced down your side, over the swell of your breast, your ribs, your tummy--just as you remember feeling that night. A whimper fell from your lips as your fingers caress your swelling clit, the nub throbbing in need and sending shocks of pleasure hat began to nag at the pit of your abdomen.

You're deep into pleasure when you have the crazy idea to call Tom suddenly. It's an insane thought, but definitely something that stirs the feeling inside you to a ten. You hold your phone up, fingers seamless unlocking the device and tapping on the 'contacts' icon. His icon was right there, your finger just hovering above his name. Just one twitch of your finger and you could so easily call him, making your dreams of him a reality.

You sweat, staring at the contact for a couple beats of silence until your throw the phone beneath your pillow. Maybe next time. Right now it was about you.

Not feeling like drawing it out today, you grab your vibrator and click it on, the small machine thrumming in your hands. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you drag it across your clit, beginning to rub it in a circular motion as you usually did and instantly arching your back at the sudden surge of pleasure that washes over you as you did so.

Its almost shameful how close you are approaching climax. Your breath hastens as you continue, fingers moving faster and moving just right to keep your body perfectly stimulated. You can feel the tension in your stomach expanding with each second that passes. Soft noise spill forth from your lips, volume increasing ever so slightly as you let go. Your cries become loud, your other hand twisting your nipple harder and hips driving forward to chase the buzzing pleasure the toy gives you.

You aren't going to last much longer at this rate, breath shaky and mouth hung open slightly ajar. Oh god, fuck, you're so, so close--yes, right there, and--

A shrill noise tore through the air, feeling like you were suddenly doused in iced water as you cry out in frustration. Your eyes widen as you reach your hand beneath the pillow, seeing the caller ID of your roommate. Tentatively, you pick up the call, perhaps sounding more curt than usual when you do so.

"What?" You hiss, not meaning to sound so mean. They simply called to ask if they could bring back a friend of theirs to the dorm in a few minutes to finish a project as it's due that night. You sigh, threading a hand through your locks and nodding your head as you do.

"Yeah. No--yeah, that's fine. Don't worry about it, I'll clean up a little. Yeah, that's fine, yep. Okay, alright--bye."

You hang up and stare at your phone. There's nothing more you wanted to do in this moment than to just smash your phone to smithereens, but you push aside your irrational thoughts for now and shove the sheets off your legs. Still shaky from the pending orgasm, your knees buckle as you stand in place. Yet stride over to the bathroom and wash your wands and your toy, then splashing some cold water onto your face also. You stare at the reflection of yourself in the mirror and see a girl who needs nothing more than to tell the world to just fuck off for second. Deep down you're simmering at the lost time, but exhale deeply. Standing straighter, you step back out and start arranging the room more properly as well as throwing on more appropriate attire. It seems it would be a while until you got your satisfying finish.

•

Tom feels a mix of surprise and amusement as he glances at the caller ID on his phone, recognizing your number. With a grin, he swipes the screen and brings the phone to his ear, expecting the usual playful banter.

"Ahh, so you've finally come to call me about the washing--" he starts, but his words trail off abruptly as he's met with an unexpected sound from the other end. At first, concern creases his brow as he wonders if something is wrong. Has you been hurt? Mugged, maybe?

The silence stretches for a few heartbeats, and then he hears it: the unmistakable electric buzzing in the foreground and the panting on the other line. Any words he had died in his throat as he suddenly becomes parched, having to swallow the thick bit of saliva that felt all too large. He knows he should have just left the second he realised what was happening, but he chalks it up to the immense shock he felt, unable to move nor breathe. Yeah... yeah, that's what it was. It wasn't because of the way you called out, the waver in your voice so hot and needy when you moaned out that it had him gripping the phone closer to his ear ever so slightly--nor was it the distinct sloshing on the other side of the receiver that could somehow pickup just how soaked you were that made his cock jump beneath his jeans. No... no, it wasn't that.

However, he couldn't help but think that if he had a pound for every time he's been the accidental viewer of a display of exhibitionism, he'd have two. Which isn't a lot, but it is weird it happened twice now.

He snaps out of his tangent and hastily clicks the hang up button. He sits in silence for a while after that, not really knowing what to do with himself and his unmistakably raging friend that twitched within its confines.

•

The morning sun casts a warm and vibrant glow over the school campus, signalling the start of Open Campus Day. Excited chatter fills the air as prospective students and their families trickle in, greeted by cheerful volunteers and colourful banners heralding the event.

In the central courtyard, booths and tents line the pathways, each one representing a different department or club. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts from a makeshift café, enticing visitors to stop for a caffeine boost before beginning their exploration.

Nearby, a group of student ambassadors clad in bright t-shirts stand ready to guide guests on campus tours. With beaming smiles, they eagerly share anecdotes about campus life and point out notable landmarks along the way.

In the lecture halls, professors and guest speakers prepare to deliver informative sessions on various academic programs and extracurricular opportunities. Posters and presentations adorn the walls, showcasing student achievements and research projects.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, the campus radiates with energy and anticipation. It's a day of discovery and possibility, where each visitor is invited to envision themselves as part of the vibrant school community.

The sun beats down relentlessly, perhaps being a little too vibrant today, its rays unyielding as they cast a harsh glare across the campus. Beads of sweat gather on your brow, trickling down your face in rivulets as you stand dutifully by the open booth. It's your turn to man the station for your elective, and the relentless heat only adds to the challenge of engaging with passing visitors.

You gulp down the last of your iced water, relishing the cool relief it brings as it soothes your parched throat. With a quick swipe of your sleeve, you wipe away the droplets that cling to the corner of your mouth. Glancing at your watch, you realize it's just about time for one of your classmates to take over the shift.

You exhale a sigh of relief as they finally arrive, a welcome sight in the sweltering heat. With a grateful nod, you hand over the reins, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. They wish you well for the remainder of the day, and with a quick farewell, you're off, eager to enjoy the rest of the Open Campus festivities.

You didn't forget your promise to Tom either, already making your way over. It was C Block, right? It doesn't take long to find yourself pushing through a thick crowd of people to make your way closer towards the stage once you enter the auditorium. Once you find a vacant opening, you stand in place, waiting for the performance to begin. You watch Tom up on the stage, adjusting the bass in his hands--Susan--when the lights begin to dim.

As he takes the stage with his bandmates, adrenaline courses through Tom's veins, electrifying every nerve in his body. The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, their excitement fuelling his own as he prepares to unleash the music they've worked so hard to create.

With a flick of his wrist, he starts to play, the deep thrum of his bass guitar reverberating through the venue. The rhythm pulses in time with the pounding of his heart, syncing perfectly with the beat of the drums and the wail of the guitars. Together, they create a symphony of sound that fills the air, enveloping the audience in its embrace.

As he loses himself in the music, he hopes that you're out their watching him amongst the crowd, the intensity of which sends a thrill down his spine. The connection between the band and the audience crackles like electricity, sparking a fire that ignites their performance even further.

The energy of the crowd feeds back to them, creating an electric atmosphere that thrums through the air.

As the final chords ring out, the crowd erupts into cheers and applause, their enthusiasm washing over them like a wave. Tom scopes the crowd for your familiar face, but it's difficult to do so when harsh the lights creates a contrast from the stage and crowd, making it impossible to make out a single face.

The band plays another few rounds of songs, until it eventually wraps up, the crowd then dispersing from the venue. The emotions still buzz through your body, like the music had scrambled your atoms. It was a great feeling, but you can't help but feel relieved you could breathe again.

You look around, unsure of where to go when you feel a pair of hands settle over your arms and warm breath tickle along the column of your neck. The hairs along your arms stand on end, and you whip round in the sudden embrace of the person behind you. You relax slightly, seeing familiar blonde hair and place a hand over your racing your heart.

"Bloody Christ, Tom. You sacred the shit out of me."

Tom chuckles, his warm breath mingling with yours as he leans in closer. "Just a testament to my domineering power," he says, his voice low. He releases his grip on your arms and steps back slightly, giving you some space.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. "Knock it off," you reply, shoving him away slightly. "Just caught me off guard, s'all. Nothing to do with the sigma bullshit you inhale like oxygen from incel podcasts."

He laughs, genuine, and you forget how nice it felt to make someone like Tom laugh so openly in that way.

"Anyway, where are you going now? Want to snag a bite?" He asks, hands stuffing themselves into his pants pockets and tilting his head to gesture towards the exit of the auditorium. You nod your head and walk along side one another as you chatter idly.

Stepping out into the sun felt good, relishing rarer weather like this that actually stayed consistent the whole day, and you actually had to hold your hand out over your eyes to adjust to the brightness of it. Your nose is hit with the smell of food rounding the corner from the venue, and you feel the pang of hunger inside you that has your stomach growling in need. You get the idea that Tom also has the same thoughts when you see the way he cradles his stomach in his hand.

As you weave through the bustling stalls of the UK market, a rich tapestry of aromas envelops you, painting a vivid picture of culinary delights. The scent of traditional British fare fills the air, mingling with pungent aromas and typical UK delights.

The unmistakable aroma of sizzling bacon drifts from a nearby stall, its savoury perfume mingling with the sweet scent of freshly baked pastries. Flaky croissants and buttery scones beckon from a quaint bakery, their golden crusts glistening in the sunlight as they emerge from the oven.

In the distance, the smoky aroma of grilled sausages wafts through the air, accompanied by the tangy scent of mustard and onions. Nearby, a stall offers a tantalizing array of cheeses, their pungent aromas mingling with the earthy scent of freshly baked bread. But what captures both your attentions was the jacket potato stall, with the distinct smell of potato and butter with an arrangement of toppings that makes your salivate at the very thought.

"Wait by the side over there, I'll be right back," he says, walking away briskly to jump in line.

Only five minutes had passed when Tom returns with a couple containers of the spuds in hand and you drool at the sight.

"Thanks heaps, Tom. How much was it? I'll pay you back." You begin to pull out your wallets, but he wraps his hand around your wrist, stopping you from doing so.

"Consider this a thanks for coming by and watching my show," he says, clearing his throat, a visible tinge of pink on his cheeks. "Let's just find somewhere to eat--I'm starving to death."

Following his lead, he eventually finds a small man-made booth outside, and you both take a seat. Not wasting any time, you both dig in, forgoing conversation. The first bite has you moaning in delight at the explosion of flavours on your tongue. You think you may have imagined it, but Tom jumps slightly when you do so. You don't say much except gush about how this may be the best thing you've eaten this week and continue to obliterate the potato.

Partway through eating, Tom notices sauce on the corner of your lip and reaches out his hand out.

"Hold on a minute, you've got something--" His thumb smudges the sauce away, brushing your bottom lip in the process. Instinctively, your tongue brushes out to lick your lip, but inadvertently poking out to lick the tip of his thumb instead. Your eyes lock, and although lasting for only a split second, it felt all too long. You become vaguely aware of just how close he is in this moment; close enough to see all the minute details of his face, and the small incline of his face inching ever-so close...

"Oh Tomsi, (name)--what a coincidence!" A voice drags you out of your spell. You both rip your gazes away from one another and look towards the sudden, ahem, intruder. Or more specifically, intruders.

"Oh, hey guys. You're all free right now?" You asked, surprised at seeing the group together like this. Matt, the one to break up the tension earlier, shrugs. Edd pipes up.

"Apparently we all had really similar schedules. So yeah, basically free the rest of the day."

You look around, realising you've never actually had the opportunity to talk to everyone like this in one large group--and although you were just fine speaking one on one to most everyone here you felt a little nervous, feeling like a bit of an outsider even.

Edd, Matt, Tom, Patricia, Pal, and even Tord.

Your eyes are pulled over towards Tord's direction like a magnet, and you hate that your heart still holds a place for him with the way it instantly picks up pace. You couldn't even help but notice how close he stood next to Patricia.

Stand up, girl. You repeat to yourself mentally and force yourself to look away.

"Oh, uhm, that's great! Did you guys want to do something?" You ask, the octave of your voice a tad higher than usual.

"We were just going to look for something to eat ourselves, but it looks like you guys already bet us to the punch before we could ask," says Edd as he eyes the food in our hands, feeling peckish himself. You shake your head animatedly.

"Don't worry about us--we're than happy to wait for you all if you want to grab some food. It's just Tom had quickly snagged us a couple of these just a few minutes before."

This certainly captures Tord's attention as he looks between the two of you. That feeling again churns his insides and he balls his fist by his side.

Everyone, agreeing to reconvene at the same spot after they split up to go grab themselves food. So you sit, albeit a little more quietly, munching on the potatoes that have cooled exponentially since purchased. You look down, poking and prodding at the food, when suddenly you feel a subtle shift on the bench beside you. A drink is placed before you and you blink up at the hazel-eyed boy curiously. He avoids meeting your gaze directly, but his expectant posture is hard to miss.

"They messed up my order so I have an extra one." He looks to you expectantly. You're torn. Your ego tells you to decline the drink, but with the way he looks at you... you couldn't bring yourself to see that crestfallen expression on his face, especially if it was because you did so purposefully just to feel better about yourself for all but a second. You fight with yourself internally, but evidently give in.

Politely thanking him, you accept the drink and take a hesitant sip, trying to ignore the anticipation in Tord's gaze from the corner of your eye. The first taste is surprisingly refreshing, and you find yourself taking another sip, the euphoria of the moment washing over you. Maybe it was because of the slight dehydration, but it truly feels like heaven has descended upon your taste buds.

"Mhm, its delicious...!" You say, sipping with a little more enthusiasm and less hesitation now. Tord visibly relaxes, and a triumphant grin stretches across his face, now turned to focus on his own meal.

One by one, everyone returns to the table with their own meals and chat amongst themselves, the atmosphere quietening down. You would say the same, but you can't really tell seeing as you are sandwiched between the two men that seems to make your heart run at two-hundred kilometres an hour. It could be that that's what's exacerbating your senses, or the fact the table is a tad too small, because you notice how their hands seem to often brush parts of your body--your thighs, chest, ribs--and it sends constant shivers straight through you. At some point when everyone was laughing, Tom had even clasped a hand over your thigh, laughing at something Edd had said, and you wondered if it was just overthinking on your part about the intimacy of the gesture. You don't know everyone very well, so you chalk it up to traits of theirs you simply hadn't seen until that point.

So when everyone finally finishes their food, you bolt away to give yourself some much needed distance from the two.

As you stroll along, the excitement of the day begins to wane, and you find yourselves searching for one last activity to cap off the fun-filled day. That's when you stumble upon a stall selling ice-cold beer. The idea instantly appeals to everyone, and without hesitation, you all step up to place your orders.

However, as the clerk requests ID for the purchase, you reach into your pocket and realize with a sinking feeling that your identification card is missing. Panic sets in as you frantically search through your belongings, but the elusive card remains nowhere to be found.

Tom brightens up and rummages through the pocket of his hoodie, eventually fishing out an ID card. Your ID card. You gingerly take it from him, slightly baffled, and look up at him. Tord watches intently from the side, his own eyes slightly widened but just as quickly returned to his usual expression. He looks around slightly paranoid and catches Patricia's eye, but then just as fast looks away from her.

"What...? How...?"

"Found at the dorm. When we crashed I must have accidentally pocketed it at some point."

You lost this a while ago, so it felt like pure luck to have found it like this. You're not sure how it worked out, but the fact it did is all that mattered at this point, you think.

"Thanks. I was seriously starting to worry about having to ask for a new one. You know how anal the staff are here about these kinds of things, so I was not looking forward to that." You hold the ID up.

"Well at least that's not a concern anymore. Care for a pint?" He gestures to the store once again. The clerk efficiently checks through everyone's IDs, confirming their ages before serving up the ice-cold beverages. It's a much-needed pit stop to kick off the night's festivities.

You're aware of a party happening later, hosted by some of the seniors in a secluded spot behind the school. It's not an official school event, so it's all very clandestine among the students. Normally, you wouldn't attend these kinds of gatherings, but the group had been adamant in you joining them, especially since it's their last year at the school. With a sigh, you relent, agreeing to stay for just a couple of hours.

As the group finishes their pints you realise you're still much slower than everyone else, so you try to gulp it down in one go, only the spill its entire contents all over your shirt.

"Woah- hey there, party animal. The night's barely started and you're already off your rocker." Tom laughs. You sputter, some of the drink having partially entered your nose and you stand there, less than pleased.

"Gross. Now I feel all sticky." You lift your shirt, pulling the fabric away from your skin as you don't enjoy feeling of the material latching onto you. "I'm going to head to the bathroom quickly to try and wash some of this stuff off. You guys go on ahead, I can meet you there." You go to walk away, the material still bunched in your hand.

"I'll come with. You've never been before, right? Someone's gotta show you the way," Tom says, walking forward until Patricia steps forward, waving her hand.

"I'll go. I'm the only other girl here anyways, so it makes more sense for me to go with her. We'll meet with you guys shortly." She steps forward, clasping an arm around your shoulder and offering a smile, leading you both away towards the women bathrooms. You cast a quick glance behind your shoulder and watch Tom shrug, the boys then turn around to start making their way towards the party. You don't feel the pairs of eyes on your retreating figure when turn around, talking with Patricia.

When you get to the bathroom, Patricia follows suit, standing next to you by the mirror and reapplying gloss to her lips whilst you do your best to wash out the beer stain from your shirt. You don't do too bad, but you would hate to walk out with a huge wet stain on the front of your clothes and risk freezing up from the cold now that the sun has gone down. You didn't realise you weren't talking when Patricia's voice cuts off your train of thought.

"So," she starts, looking at your through the mirror while she fixes herself. "D'you have a boyfriend or anything?" Her question comes out of the blue, but you suppose she's just trying to make small talk. You pause, looking up at her before shaking your head. She could sense the apprehension just from that alone. "You sure?" She says, a strange twinkle in her eye. You're not really sure what she means by that so you tilt your head in response.

"Don't worry, I'm not trying to interrogate you. Your face just tells me the situation seems complicated." Jesus. You know it's not unusual to make these sort of assumptions about people, and having a 'complicated' relationship isn't unique by any means, but in that second in really felt like she's seeing through you, like she was trying the gauge your reaction. It's... a bit unnerving, to say the least, but you're probably thinking too much into it.

You look down, hands still trying to wring some of the excess water out your shirt.

"A couple weeks ago, I did... meet a boy." You start, mulling over just how much you should talk about since so far Patricia has been completely uncharted territory to you, and it had been awkward on your end due to your internal biases. But you exhale, trying to push yourself out your comfort zone. "But I also met another not long ago." You cringe at yourself. Now that you're saying this out loud, your felt like some whore that goes around regularly. But when you look at Patricia, you sensed no real judgement from her, in fact she's nodding her own head to show she's listening.

"Nothing's happened with the second boy really, but I did go back to the first boy's dorm where we, well, yeah." You shrink back a little and try to hide your embarrassment. "Even though at the time he fancied another girl, I thought maybe I would also have a chance. But then he started being all weird and avoiding me. I even thought briefly that he was just using me."

"One thing about men: they are dumb and clueless about love. I assure you everything they've realised about themselves recently were all things you've known about yourself since you were eight." She laughs. "Have you told him you like him? If you don't spell it out, they will quite literally never know."

"Even though we had sex?"

"Even though you had sex." She reiterates.

Suddenly, she grasps your hand, startling you. "But if he's still being an arsehole? You can tell him to fuck right off,'' she asserts, intertwining your fingers into a fist as a gesture of support. Meeting her gaze, you're captivated by her twinkling eyes and genuine smile, and for a fleeting moment, your heart skips a beat. In that brief instance, you can definitely see the allure she exudes; if you were a man, you'd have undoubtedly fallen for her right then and there.

You both leave the bathroom, now finding it much easier to talk to her when your misconceptions and biases toward her have been replaced with a sense of camaraderie. Your shirt, although still damn and smells, no longer has the sticky residue of the beer that was so uncomfortable. Patricia was kind enough at least to spritz you with her perfume so you don't drown in the smell of booze. Though, you're not sure if it'll matter in the end when you have to go to a party that will serve pretty much nothing but booze.

Still, you can't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in. The thought of sneaking around behind the school, attending an unofficial party, isn't exactly your cup of tea. But you can't ignore the pleading looks from your friends, and the prospect of spending time with them on their last year at the school tugs at your heartstrings.

You continue onward, making your way towards the secluded spot behind the school.

As you arrive at the party, you're greeted by the sound of music thumping and laughter echoing through the night air. The scene is a whirlwind of activity, with students mingling and dancing under the dim glow of fairy lights strung up around the makeshift dance floor.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, determined to make the most of it for the sake of your friends. So you stand, cup in hand, in the corner away from the mess, and watch the chaos of party-goers chugging copious amounts of alcohol and partaking in other party activities.

Patricia spots a few more of her friends, and although you wish she would remain by your side, you didn't want to impede on her night and instead promised to swing by to see how she's doing at some point during the party. You stand on the edge of the bustling party, trying to blend into the crowd as Tord's presence looms nearby, your eyes keep flicking back to where he stands, chatting with a group of friends.

Fuck it you think, downing a shot as you look onward. Why should you care about that bastard Tord? You can do whatever the hell you want. In a fit of defiance, you spin yourself around, nearly toppling yourself and wall that suddenly appeared behind you over. Fortunately for yourself, you didn't spill another pint down your shirt. Unfortunately for them, however, you spilt yours down theirs instead.

"Oh, geez, oh fuck--sorry." You pat down their chest, a fruitless attempt at reversing the situation.

"So is this going to be a thing with you all night?"

You look up and catch the familiar sight of your blond friend, laughing in disbelief.

"Fuck, sorry, Tom. I don't know what's up with me these days. My head's just--" You make a gesture with your hands. "--all over the place."

He looks down at you, seeming to mull something over in head.

"You wanna step outside for a second, clear our minds for a bit?"

Well you certainly weren't going to turn that down, already feeling suffocated by the strong smells of smoke and liquor surrounding you.

As you step outside into the cool night air, a sense of relief washes over you, the cacophony of the party fading into the background, away from other people. You take in a deep breath, savouring the crispness of the air as it fills your lungs. Tom leans against the wall, his expression contemplative as he surveys the dimly lit area. Conversation passes between you easily, perhaps more so because of the casual setting and the several shots of vodka that keeps your body warm from the cool breeze of the night, making you feel a little bolder than usual. At some point, there's a shift between you two and the energy crackles with electricity; bodies much closer, touches that linger for longer and are more daring. Tom takes a swig from the can in his hands and then looks out at the sky. He fidgets with the rings that decorate his hand.

"You know." He starts, clearing his throat. "I heard you on the phone the other day, did you know that?"

"What are you talking about?" You laugh playfully. You really weren't sure what he was talking about. Was there a time you called him? You don't recall any past conversations with him. Well, unless he could read minds and saw the dream you had on him that one night. Which can't be... right? You shake your head, laughing to yourself internally, thinking the drinks have definitely gotten to you now if you're suddenly becoming anxious about others reading your freaking mind.

"You called me. Hot and bothered. Maybe you didn't realise, but god you were sexy." He gripped your hip with his left hand. Your mind blanks out. Wait, what?

"Called?" You breathed out

"Mhm, yes. And you sounded delectable. Maybe this time I could help you out better?"

What this another shitty porno dream? You pinched yourself, but this time it felt all too real. No, that can't be. That was just a dream. So, he overheard you touching yourself to him?

He takes a sharp intake of breath.

"You dreamt about me?"

Fuck. Did you say that out loud? Maybe you were more light weight than you remembered. It was hard to know if the flush on your face was due to the alcohol or the nature of the conversation, but either way it was starting to get really, really hot inside.

He steps a little closer now, leaning downward to level himself with your face, and his cup now abandoned so he can pull you in a little closer to his frame, larger hands pressing into the low of your waist.

"It was... it was nothing. Maybe you're reading into this wrong." You snip back, biting the inside of your cheek.

"Oh yeah? Doesn't seem like nothing. Cuz' when I touch you here," his hand sneaks up your shirt and teases just where your ribs are, a spike of arousal to shoots down to your core. "And here," he gently caresses your hip, causing your face to flush hotly.

"Your face gets all cute and flushed," he ends teasingly.

"It's just a natural reaction." You deflect, embarrassed at how fast he seems to already be having an effect on you. He can't help but laugh at that.

"Oh, come on. We both know it's not just a natural reaction." Brushing his nose to the column of your neck. "You like it."

The action itself already has you panting as you squeeze your eyes shut. He leans down, placing languid kisses along the column of your neck.

"W-wait..." You huff out, trying to push his head back to no avail. His tongue laves sensually across the sensitive parts of your throat, and it takes everything in you to not completely melt into his touches.

He hums against your throat, enjoying the slight taste of saltiness from your skin. Slowly, he backs you up against a wall, hand exploring upwards at the exposed skin of your waist and mid-section. He pulls away, and your eyes connect, flickering between your eyes and your lips. Then he leans forward, capturing your mouth in his. What started off fairly light and sweet quickly increased in vigour, now donning a hungry desire.

"I don't know if I want to just eat you up... or fuck you senseless," he muttered between kisses, trailing more along your neck and shoulders before coming to meet your hungry eyes again. "But either way, it seems you've pushed me too far today."

With a sudden tug to another direction, you find yourselves rushing away from the party.

"Where are we going?" You ask, trying to match his pace.

"To somewhere with more privacy."

You gasp, choking on a moan at Tom's sudden movements, face flushed hot as he pulls apart from the quick kiss, a trail of saliva leaking from the corner of your lips as you pant.

It seems he had taken you somewhere not far from where the party was set. He found an area inside one of the buildings that had a broken lock and didn't have surveillance surrounding it. You were surprised to see it wasn't as disgusting as you thought it would be, but it turns out the boys had flipped this area into a small hang out spot just years prior and hasn't been touched since.

You didn't care about the details at the moment though, choosing instead to fist his hair and moan breathily at Tom's teasing ministrations. You had forgone your beer-stained shirt and jeans, now clad in just your underwear. Tom had you laid out across a mattress with newly fitted sheets, hands groping and caressing every inch of your curves. His hand moved down to tug the cups of your bra beneath your breasts which now spill out and tweak at the sensitive buds util the hardened. He found you were a bit of a brat in bed when you kept playing coy with him, so he leaned downward, capturing one of your sweet peaks into his mouth and biting down, although gently, as a warning.

"So stubborn," he murmurs, continuing to leave marks along your supple flesh. "But you want it, don't you?" He grounds his hips against yours. The rough fabric of his jeans separate his hardened dick, practically begging for release as your combined heat creates an almost visible haze that surrounds you both.

He finally pulled away completely from the intimate dance, rolling onto his side and facing you. Reaching down, he grabs your panties and yanks them down your legs, exposing your toned thighs and most importantly, your bare pussy. Finally, he thinks to himself.

The sudden rush of cool air against your core has you squeezing your thighs together. Desire twists inside your core, and you press your face into his chest, taking in his scent. He groans at the sensation of your skin pressed against his when he drags a finger along the inner parts of your thighs, which have become incredibly soaked in this short time toying with your body.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he mutters hoarsely, nose pressed into your hair as his hands do all the work playing with your body. He moves around so he hovers above you, rolling you onto your back so you're forced to look up at him. He lowered himself and captured your lips in a fierce kiss, tongue probing deeper into your welcoming mouth. One hand reached between you to cup at your bare bottom, squeezing it delightedly and then moving upward to rub circles into the soft flesh.

His fingers moved, tracing along your sensitive folds and circling your clit. He circled your opening before pushing his thumb in slowly, feeling the tightness of your pussy suck him in, releasing a shuddered breath through his lips. He captures your breast in his mouth and begins easing his thumb into you at a moderate pace. You whine at the sensation, his fingers being much thicker and longer than your own, which makes sense for how talented he is on the bass.

You feel that familiar swirling in your gut and cry out. It didn't take you long to get this close since you weren't able to properly finish last time. Your hips push up, meeting his hand, but whine in frustration when he suddenly pulls away. Tears gather in your eyes at feeling so close, but so far.

"Why did you-?"

The blond man roughly flips you over, face pressed into the sheets. He grabs your hips, pulling them upward so your ass sticks up in the air, showcasing everything.

"Fuck, yes. This is what I want to see." He practically growls, palming the flesh of your cheeks. You yelp when he leans forward, laving wet kisses along the succulent skin, until finally licking a single stripe up your dripping cunt. He groans at the taste, savouring its flavour, then delves in deeper.

"Hnng, ohh- fuck. Tom..." You moan his name. You can't do anything except grip the sheets below you and grind down in rhythm to his movement. His tongue pushes deeper, kisses wet as a mix of your juices and his saliva drip down, his hands harshly gripping your tender ass cheeks. When his lips wrap around your clit, you see white, toes curling in at the raw pleasure it gives you, and you choke on a moan.

"I- I can't. Tom, please, I need something, fuck, anything inside- please." You beg. You practically feel the smirk on your face.

"I like this side of you a lot. So fucking hot and ready to swallow my cock. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He teases, the contrast on his jeans pushing against your naked pussy has you reeling, hips pushing down to seek any contact. He pulls your hair back, holding from the base of your scalp, and leans over your back to nibble on your ear. "You do, don't you pretty girl?"

His words have a powerful affect on you and you nod your head, mouth parted and releasing heavy pants.

"Mhmn, yes. God, I do." You chant, hoping to appease him. He releases your hair and grins. You hear the sound of a zipper and some shuffling. He runs his hand along your plush cheeks, stopping at the small of your waist and pushes down, holding you in place. His other hand comes around and holds his dick, the head nudging gently against your slick opening that had been prepped so well by his fingers and tongue just earlier. He hisses at the contact, enjoying the sensation for a bit. You steel yourself, anticipating the intrusion.

Slowly, his head pushes through, giving a delightful stretch that gives a mix of pain and pleasure. You groan in sink as he inserts his girth inch by inch.

Fuck. The feel of your hot walls encased his dick completely as he bottomed out. Never having felt so full before you squeezed around him so tightly he groaned and ground his hips into you. The feeling began to numb, and just as you got used to it he pulled back slowly and snapped his hips sharply back into yours.

"Haa...i fucking love, ahh, the feel." You moaned out as your tits bounced in this position.

"Yeah? How 'bout we pick up the pace?"

He adjusts his leg so one was kneeled and the other propped so his foot can balance him. He twists the lower half of your body more so it was sideways, legs outstretched and hooked behind him. He inserts himself once more and roughly slams into your sweltering heat. He grits his teeth, the pleasure pushing him further. You cry out, this new angle hitting areas you didn't know could be reached. In your desperation, you grasp at your own breasts, kneading them and tweaking your hardened buds between your fingers.

"Fuc- fuck, Tom, it's so thick." You tongue hangs out, the pleasure causing your mind to blank. His heart swells with pride.

"Just take it," he growls. His breathes become more erratic as you both fall deeper into a trance-like state brought on by primal desires. His hands gripped your hips tighter than ever before while continuing the rhythm. "Take everything from me." He slams your hips together, feeling the way your walls flutter around his girth which you cry out to in response, pain mingling with pleasure.

You feel Tom's hands shift from your hips to your thighs, and suddenly he's hoisting you so your thighs are pressed back against your chest. He pulls his cock out so only the tip rests inside before slamming back in. A loud, keening moan is ripped from you as the new angle allows him to push deeper. A trail of drool runs down your lips as you gasp and moan his name desperately, feeling cock-drunk.

"D... deep..." You gasp, eyes screwed shut as your body is wracking with pleasure.

"Oh, I knew you would fucking like that." His voice thick with lust and satisfaction as he watches your body respond perfectly to his every movement. His fingers tighten on your legs slightly before letting go momentarily to send a brutal thrust that sends sparks of pleasure through both your bodies as your climax draws near.

He mumbles something under his breath and leans down to capture your you in another heated kiss, all teeth and tongue. The pressure inside wound itself deeper and deeper as he maintains a consistent rhythm, until finally...

You scream, back arching and toes curling inwards as your climax takes your body. Tom helps you chase down that pleasure, continuing his thrusts until he feels himself burst with a groan, pulling out just before he spills into you. You're both drenched in sweat as you pant tiredly, coming down from the high.

You don't say anything for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath, Tom reaches over, wiping away the cum that spilled itself over your stomach, then throwing his hoodie over you. You shut your eyes and feel him stand up. As your eyelids flutter open, you find him already dressed, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a reassuring smile, he assures you that everything's alright and advises you not to get up just yet. He announces his intention to make a quick trip to the corner store, promising to be back shortly. With that, he swiftly exits, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

It's quiet now, and you're alone which finally gives you time to think. You turn over on the mattress relaying the evens that had just conspired. You almost forgot about Tord, honestly, and you're not sure if that fact made you proud or sad. You still want a chance to talk to him, but is that fair to do that at this point? Nothing was official.

In the hush of solitude, the silence envelops you like a comforting shroud, offering a rare moment of introspection. Lying on the mattress, you shift restlessly, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling in the aftermath of recent events. Tord's presence, or rather the lack thereof, lingers on the fringes of your consciousness, a reminder of the unresolved tension that simmers between you.

As you replay the sequence of events in your mind, a pang of realization strikes you - you had almost completely forgotten about Tord. It's a sobering revelation, one that leaves you grappling with a mix of conflicting sentiments. Part of you wonders if this oversight should be a source of pride, a testament to your ability to navigate through turbulent waters without being consumed by past grievances. Yet, there's an undeniable undercurrent of sadness you can't help but feel.

Deep down, you still harbour a desire to reconcile, to bridge the misunderstandings between you and Tord. But as you weigh the implications of such a decision, doubt creeps in, casting a shadow of uncertainty over your intentions. Is it fair to reach out to him now like this? Nothing had ever been made official.

The door clicks open.

"That was quick, I thought you'd--" All words shrivel up on your tongue as you stare at the made before you. Familiar brunette, devil-horn shaped hair is the first thing you recognise. The second thing is the look in his eyes sharp and purposeful. You sit up and whisper his name, unsure of what to do.

But he leaves you not a second longer to think as he makes his way over, his actions much bolder than anything he's done this whole week. You look up at him, and the smell of alcohol hits your nose. You swear you hadn't been gone for much long, but it seemed he already a fair few drinks himself.

"Tord...?" Your voice light as you eye him up and down.

Before you can process his reaction, he reaches out, hand gripping yours firmly as he pulls you in.

"What's going on?" you ask, confusion evident in your voice as he finally releases your hand.

Tord's gaze meets yours, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "I need to talk to you," he admits, his voice low and tinged with emotion.

You try to pull your hand back, unsure and, well, very, very naked. There is a tense silence, the air heavy with unspoken tension.

"Uhm, I'm not sure about right now, Tord. Why don't we just--"

"I-I was embarrassed, okay??" He says, voice bounding off the walls. He exhales, steeling his nerves better.

Your brows knit together in confusion. "Embarrassed...? What are you, a virgin? I didn't think you were so vanilla. Should I have taken you to dinner first?" You say, hands pulling down the hem of the jacket further. You huffed at him. "Some part of me feels as if we've missed a few steps, anyway."

"I was just... I feel complicated right now, okay?"

"Well, I'll make it easier for you then." You say, lips pulled into an irritated scowl. "Leave me alone. I'm not an option." You try to pull your hand back.

"Hey, hey, wait," he says, hands reaching out to grasp your hand to stop you. "That's not what I meant. I thought, well, you blocked me on your phone--I tried to call you."

"When did I-?" You think back to your previous interactions and recall that unknown number calling your cell all those days ago, recognition lighting up your face momentarily. "... block you. I thought you were a scam call--Why didn't you say anything?" You ask, still upset. "You didn't--I thought..." You trail off, not entirely sure what to say. You shake your head.

"You still chose to ignore me though, didn't you? I wanted to talk to you but every time I turned around you weren't there." You look up, the dejection on your face clear. "I thought maybe you liked me..."

"I do like you. I was just--it was stupid, I know.

"God, I was wrong about you. I don't want to just be used like one of your little groupies, Tord Larsson." You spit, upset at his confrontation.

Tord's face is blank, devoid of emotion which, quite frankly, scares you, and you back away. However, he steps closer, backing you up against a nearby wall.

"You think that's the case?" His hazel eyes hold an unmistakable hunger that makes you gulp. He pushes your shoulder back into the wall in a display that sends a thrill up your spine, but leaves an affect on you that has you questioning just how far will this go.

"You think I've been wilfully driving myself crazy for weeks just to be told that?" He reaches out now, finger pulling at the plush of your lips. "Fuck--I know, it's all my fault. I thought that maybe this was something I had to hide, but that was stupid."

You gasp at the feel of his larger hands reaching forward to grip your chin, now forced to stare into his irises. Were his eyes always this dark, or were they just that dilated?

"I don't want to overthink anymore when all I've had was you in my bloody mind these past weeks." He confesses. Your eyes widen, face feeling hotter at his sudden boldness.

"T-this is great and all, Tord, but out here like this--" You stutter out, fingers twitching by your sides, unsure of what to do with the awkward placement of your body.

Tord breathes out through his nose, almost like a scoff, then he chuckles lowly in a way that seems to vibrate through his chest. His grip on your chin tightens just a fraction, pulling your chin to face away towards the left so he can lean closer, the words brushing your ear and sending a shiver through your body. "What, you don't like this, sunshine? Besides, nothing wrong with a little excitement. You didn't seem to have a problem with it before, so I don't care about hiding anymore."

He leans in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear. His other hand moves to your waist, pressing against the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the undeniable yearning in your eyes. His own desire is evident, the bulge in his jeans beginning to grown and press into your thigh. "Push me away and I'll stop."

You scrunch your eyes shut, the heat on your face rising, but you make no attempt to push him further. You instinctively squeeze your thighs, to which Tord's hawk-like gaze catches the subtle shift, an ever-growing smile stretching across his face as he watches you squirm in place, the movement unintentionally pressing further into him. You gasp softly. His eyes darken with desire, his own body responding eagerly to your need. The sound, although soft, sends a jolt of electricity straight south, making his jeans tighten further.

He leans in to nibble gently on your earlobe, his hot breath fanning over your heated skin. "Mhm, you're killing me with those reactions of yours."

You don't have much time to say anything else before you're being promptly scooped up into his arms, yelping at the sudden movement as he hauls you up with no signs of struggle except for a soft grunt when his arm wraps around your waist and lifts you, one hand supporting your back and the other moving to squeeze beneath the plush of your thighs. He keeps you pinned against the wall, his lips crashing against yours in a hungry, needy kiss, tongue sweeping into your mouth and tangling with yours.

He can't help but let out a low groan, the sensation of your body against his driving him wild. His hands roam roam freely over your curves, squeezing and caressing, his touch a mix of gentle and possessive. He breaks way from the kiss, voice heavy and thick. "I can't wait long."

His hand on your thigh tightens as he tenderly circles his thumb over the expanse of the soft flesh. Tord's breath hitches at the sound of your desperate whimper, his carnal desire only growing stronger. The intensity in his eyes matches the burning need in yours as he gazes down at you, his grip on your thigh tightening in response to your grinding motions.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Tord's grunts, pulling you away from the wall and pulling you down to lay across the mattress. He doesn't hesitate to run his hands along your body, revelling in the softness of your skin. His fingers glide up your inner thighs, teasingly close to your heated centre, which is already twice as sensitive due to your previous orgasm. His eyes lock with yours, his voice husky with desire.

"You ready for me?"

And without waiting for your answer, he dives down, his mouth hungrily devouring your throbbing nub, his skilled tongue expertly flicking and lapping at the sensitive bud. You curse under your breath, face twisted in ecstasy as you grip his horned-hair. The feel of his tongue against your sopping heat has you crying out as you arch into him, forcing more of your pussy to his face.

"It... it feels so, nhgg..." You moan, thighs trying to clamp down around his head at the sensitivity of his ministrations. Tord groans against your slicked heat, his tongue working tirelessly to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. He savours the taste of your arousal, his own desire burning through him. The grip on his hair sends shivers down his spine, heightening his pleasure as he delves into your core.

His hands grip your thighs, preventing them from closing completely, allowing him unrestricted access to your dripping folds. With each moan and arch of your back, his determination grows, Tongue darting and swirling expertly. He feels your walls tighten around his tongue, a clear sign of your impending release.

His deep voice, Norwegian accent thick, rumbles against your heated flesh.

"That's right, beautiful. Let go for me, Give in to the pleasure." He intensifies his movements, flicking his tongue against your most sensitive spot while his hands explore further, kneading your ass cheeks and spreading you open for him.

As the waves of pleasure crash over you, your body convulse with an intense climax. The room fills with your cries, the sound music to Tord's ears as he drinks in your intoxicating pleasure.

But he's not done with you yet. He rises to his feet, his eyes burning with renewed hunger. He sheds his clothes with haste, revealing his lean, yet well-endowed physique. His cock throbs with need, tip leaking with precum.

"You're not the only only who needs to be satisfied, sunshine," he groans, positioning himself over you. You look up at him, rounded eyes and on your knees. He holds his dick in his hands, holding it out.

"Show me what you got. No hands"

Without having to be asked twice, you take his dick into your mouth, tasting the unique saltiness on the tip of your tongue and moans around the girth, sending vibrations down along his shaft. He bites his, soft pants leaving him as he watches you struggle to take in his length--which was, strangely, so fucking hot to witness. Tears prick your eyes and you look up at him through your lashes, mouth completely stuffed. You pull back and begin to bob your head, tongue flat against the bottom of your mouth and laving at the underside of his cock. You feel the vein protrude along that side of his length and delicately run your tongue around it, teasing him.

In quick successions, you pull back to catch your breath, then resume, shoving his cock back into your inviting mouth. You feel the way he twitches inside and can't help the way his coos of good girl doesn't have you beyond soaked. After a while, you become used to stretch of your mouth around his girth, having to relax your jaw some more to take him inch by inch. He hold onto his thighs for purchase and whine when you feel his hand reach out and pull you back by the scalp. His eyes are glazed over, lust intense.

"On your back." He commands, and you do as he says, laying back across the mattress to relieve the aching in your knees from having remained in a kneeled position for so long. You hold yours legs to your chest, gasping as he settles in front of you. His erection stands tall and proud, the tip glistening in anticipation. He positions himself between your spread legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds. With a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to push forward, gradually filling you.

You feel an incredible stretch when he enters you, his length stretching out your inner walls. He pauses, allowing you to adjust, his eyes locked with yours.

"Fuuuck, you're wet," he grunts, the struggle to maintain control evident in his voice. "But you feel fucking amazing, vakker." His voice drops an octave when speaking his mother tongue. With a steady rhythm, he starts to move, each thrust bringing him deeper inside you, his length reaching places you never thought possible.

As the pleasurable sensations intensify and the initial discomfort subsides, your body begins to rock in sync with his movements. The heat between you grows, mingling with the sweat that glistens on your skin. With each thrust, the sounds of your moans and his grunts fill the room, blending together in a symphony.

Tord's hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing your breasts before trailing down to grip your hips, guiding your movements to meet his thrusts. The sensations overwhelm you, igniting a fire deep within as you yearn for more. Your sweet moans fill his ears and he leans down to suck and bite at the exposed skin along your neck and shoulders. A particularly hard bite has you crying out, the mix of pain and pleasure a delightful pleasure.

His thrusts become more urgent, his pace quickening as his own pleasure reaches its peak. He buries himself deep within you, cock throbbing as he reaches the brink of release. With a shuddered groan, he spills his hot seed deep within, filling you completely. The pressure of his load has you tensing around him, and not long after, your climax overtakes you with a cry. Tears streak down the sides of your face, having experienced several orgasms in a row tonight.

Breathless and sated, you lock eyes, quickly sharing a tender kiss. Tord goes to something when the sound of someone clearing their throat captures your attentions.

"Well this is certainly an interesting find."

Tom looks over at the sight before him, arms crossed and leaned against the side of the door frame.

"So this was the one, Tord?" He steps forward, gesturing to the both of you.

Tord doesn't say anything, choosing to stare back at the blond man. It was quite scary, watching them say nothing for quite some time, a telepathic exchange passing between them. Then, they turn to face you, which has you undoubtedly sweating. Tord speaks up after a beat, mouth stretched into a devious smirk.

"Think you can take us both, sunshine?" He asks, challenging glint in his eye. Your own pair widen, looking frantically between the two. And before you can even stop yourself, your mouth moves of its own accord.

"Fuck. Say less."