Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

Falling together

"Does that imply that you're the bottom bitch in our relationship?"

It was spoken with a wide teasing grin, eyes half-lidded and full of teeth, lips quirked adorably off to the side. A light smattering of pink dusted his cheeks, beautifully spreading across the delicate bridge of his nose, blending warmly with his soft tanned skin.

Tom could pinpoint the exact second his heart decided to stop beating- time slowing down as a fluffy mixture of bubbling happiness and silent awe curled pleasantly in his chest.

Hair damp, flesh painfully pale, and pitch black sockets heavily lined with a dark, tired hue- he felt like an unruly, hot mess sitting next to Tord, blushing awkwardly and bunched up in ill-fitting baggy clothes. From the gentle glow of the lamp behind him, it almost seemed as though he was shining- radiating a comforting warmth that seeped out of his core.

Gulping inaudibly, Tom bit into the sensitive meat on his tongue, grimacing at the sharp bolt of pain that shot down his nerves.

Almost unwillingly, he was mentally transported back into the maid cafe's homey visage, trembling from the intensity of the hot, spiralling stare of Tord's silver orbs.

How long had Tord looked at him like he was the only person in the room?

How blind can one man be?

At his silence, Tord grinned wider, a deeper, darker flush settling over his joyful features, "I'm not hearing a 'no'."

Was that a dimple?

Fuck me dead, Tom internally cursed, I'm so gay for this man.

Slowly, but surely, the other man's words leaked into the flailing crevices of his brain, wriggling insistently as his mind churned for some abstract meaning behind them. When they did, it was like a lightbulb went off over his head, burning his face a bright lobster red, and widening his eyes in immense shock.

Mouth gaping, he wheezed roughly, long sleeves curling up in a pathetic effort of hiding himself from view.

"What relationship?" Tom snorted, gasping weakly for breath, "And no- the only bitch here is you."

Undeterred, Tord simply kept staring at him lazily, features curling up with a unique sense of smugness.

"Oh? So you're the alpha male here now, huh? I don't feel particularly wooed right now." His voice wobbled slightly, as though frantically holding in a violent fit of laughter, "What happened to, 'the only thing I'm dedicated to is getting your dick'?"

Not expecting that at all, Tom coughed roughly- the phrase causing him to short circuit. A ball of tightness filled the back of his throat, large and invading- small ebb of shame blossoming inside of him.

Why had he said that again?

"Classic, stupid Tom."

He wasn't going to ever live that down, was he?

"You're going to be the death of me."

Not if Tord killed him first.

Clearing his throat, Tom smacked his lips, hoping to calm himself down. Choking on his own salvia was an embarrassing way to die, especially with the nightmarish fog of the violent future lingering towards them; but at that point, it seemed like a legitimate issue.

"Who said that? It can't be me." Doing his best to look scandalised, he placed an open palm over his chest, a mock offended glint in his eyes, "A lady wouldn't say such a thing."

"The Lady and the Bitch." A huffed laugh, tired and yet fond at the same time, "I like that- now we can get awful matching shirts and embarrass each other in public."