Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

⚠️ Graphic Dick Touching ⚠️

Warmth radiated from his core, thick and palpable, ghosting over his flesh to seep pleasantly into his bones. Laying limp, curled into a tight little ball of heat, plush fabric gently cradled his small figure. Cocooned under a myriad of soft blankets, they wrapped around him like a hug, strong and protective- hiding him from sight.

Groaning, Tom pushed his face deeper into the plump pillow beneath him, eyelashes fluttering as he gargled incoherent mutterings. Nose wrinkling, he attempted to unfurl his posture, lips smacking dryly as he swallowed, clenching his parched throat.

When his limbs refused to cooperate he huffed tiredly, puffs of hot air trailing out of his nostrils. Cracking open his eyes, he blinked around warily, vision mildly blurred and strained- the room around him was bathed in a natural, pale light, sun streaming through the partition in the curtains.

Tilting his head, he raised a confused brow, mouth pressed into a thin line. Where was he again? From the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar red couch, and everything sluggishly clicked into place.

From the loving teasing to the moderately embarrassing attempt at flirting- it had all been real, it hadn't been a dream.

"My Tom."

My Tord.

A smile graced his face, feeling fond and sickly sweet. They had slept together in the same bed, curled up; spooning, absorbing each other's warmth. Being lulled into a simple sense of calmness, sleep coming blissfully easy with the rhythmic fluttering of his partner's heart.

But then- why was he struggling to move?

Shuffling backwards, he felt a shift in weight, and a pressure pole into his back.

What.

Squinting, he thought hard, a thick, dense fog hovering over his mind.
Sluggishly, it slowly dawned on him, like pieces of an abstract puzzle threading together.

A large, heavy mass had encased itself around him, clinging heatedly like an overzealous octopus. Slow, gentle breathing whooshed by his ear, goosebumps spreading down his neck as a pair of lips brushed his flushed flesh. Legs tangled together in a comfortable mess of limbs, a broad solid chest shuddered against his back. Anchored down to the bed, a toned arm curled protectively over his stomach, hoodie riding up from the intrusion- a possessive hand spread out against the tight skin over his ribs.

The hardness that probed hotly into the curve of his ass will forever remain a mystery.

A gay mystery, indeed.

Clenching his eyes shut, he smothered his mouth with cupped hands, a bright red blush blemishing his cheeks. A quiet squeaking noise leapt out of his throat, heart hammering behind his rib cage, bubbling loudly in his veins.

Holy hot dog at a water park.

Rubbing his thighs together, his breath hitched, feeling the other man squirm against him in response. A coil of pleasure thrummed through his belly, and a groan sounded- deep and vibrating, close to his jaw.

Was Tord aware of this? Did he do this on purpose- or was this just apart of his sleep pattern?

A crude rocking motion started against his ass, hips bucking lazily against his clothed cheeks, and Tom shivered, eyes half-lidded he gulped nervously. Vaguely, he could feel the telltale seeping wetness that oozed through the fabric of his boxers, face flaming with a sense of profound embarrassment and repressed lust.

What was he supposed to do? Wait until Tord was finished? Wake him up so he can kindly jerk off in the shower?

Tord jerking off in the shower.