Oh, Fucking Hell (Tomtord)

yoU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE BRANDON

hello folks, just an fyi,,,yes, tord is an absolute dick and sexist prick in this chapter. yes, this was intentional. it was supposed to go somewhere. however, due to negative comments, i freaked the fuck out and tried to backpedal. i never continued this subplot of tord's sexism because of it, lmao,, i'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable

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So, admittedly, Tom had been avoiding Tord all week. Like, yeah, he had been confident when he was teasing Tord after their fuck, but now the Norwegian just seemed... pissed. Like, hella pissed. Sometime after they finished fucking, Tord left the house and came back the next morning. Edd teased him about the hickey Tom gave him, but the Norse quickly brushed it off as a one-night stand.

Naturally, since Tord was such a lady's man, Edd didn't question it.

Still, even after that, Tord was acting like a damn bitch. He kept throwing numerous insults at Tom at the breakfast table every day. Not to mention, if Tom ever tried to pass Tord, the asshole would bump Tom's shoulder rather harshly.

Dick.

In fear of it getting worse, Tom kept himself secluded in his room. It wasn't that big of a deal—Edd and Matt brushed it off as one of Tom's 'episodes'.

Rude, but fair.

Now, however, he was lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with absolute dread for the next couple of hours. Sadly, the day happened to be Sunday, so he would be getting his weekly fix.

Well, more like his weekly fix on steroids.

His thoughts were interrupted when that stupid Norse's voice came through the door. "Open up, Jeho. Edd wants everyone to come to breakfast, which you haven't been doing. 'pparently, he's got an announcement."

Tom groaned, rolling off of his bed. His hickeys had completely faded, so he no longer had to spend ten, maybe twenty minutes covering them up. He shook himself, calling out, "Be there in a minute." He ran his fingers through his bed head as he grabbed his sweatshirt off his bed (he always kept it there). He slipped that and a random pair of skinny jeans on. Next, he reached for his hairbrush and tried to tame the kinks.

It didn't take much effort, so hooray, I guess.

Finally, feeling like a kid who didn't want to go to school, Tom trudged over to the door and opened it.

For some reason, Tord hadn't left his doorway. Nope; he stood there with a smug look on his face.

Oh, no.

He grabbed Tom's sweatshirt and began to tug him toward the red clad male's room, forcing a little squeak out of Tom. Tord pulled the poor boy in front of them as they reached the Norse's room and pushed him inside. Tord closed the door behind them before advancing Tom, hands on the Brit's shoulders. Tom's back pressed against the bed and his hands found Tord's chest, glaring up at the Norwegian.

Tord stared down at Tom with a surprising amount of intensity. They had what seemed like a staring contest, glaring at each other for a solid ten seconds. Then, Tom looked away, the side of his face pressing against the bed.

Seemed like Tord won.

"Good boy," the Norse purred, hands trailing down from Tom's shoulder to the Brit's pants, backing up slightly.

"Wait, already?" Tom rushed out quickly, watching as Tord's hands stopped. "But... Edd and Matt haven't left yet." He blinked up at Tord with confusion.

"It's part of your punishment, min kjaere," he explained simply, tugging down Tom's jeans and briefs. He reached over to his nightstand, on which sat lube and...