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"Ahh. Ha. Hellooo, I'm back."
There's the accent Matt's been so eager to hear all day! He springs up from the couch, whatever rom-com he'd been occupying himself with on the TV still playing and forgotten, as he rushes to give Tord a hug. His boyfriend a hug.
"Finally! I was starting to get really bored," Matt pouts, arms tight around him. Rocking him back and forth in the embrace. Not quite catching the way Tord instinctively recoils, or grits his teeth. Only catching the way Tord's hand comes to pat him on his lower back.
"And what a travesty that'd be." Tord's flat tone there is one he's used to hearing. That's just how Tord is. "Sorry for being gone so long, then." So Matt nods his head emphatically at the notion, huffing a sigh.
"Mm, well, I guess it's okay! I just watched a movie," he supplies, pointing to the evidence. Tord spares it a glance. Humming. "Did you have fun out– ehm, wherever you were?"
A slow smile comes to Tord's face at that. "Oh, so much! I was.. visiting an old friend. Very productive."
"Old friend? But, I thought we were the old friends? I guess you've got a lot of friends."
There's a dragging pause. The silence is tended to by the hand at Matt's back giving him a couple more pats, firm and rhythmic. It's nice. Comforting enough that Matt hardly notices the pause.
"Ahh. Yes. You know me! Lots of connections."
A shrug. Matt supposes so. He doesn't exactly remember Tord saying anything like that, maybe because Tord only started talking to Matt alone for an extended period of time a couple of weeks ago, but oh well.
"Hehe, yeah. But, um," pulling back from the hug, he fiddles with the hand Tord has dropped at his side. Turning the fingers over in his own. "I was actually thinking about something a little while you were out!"
Now meeting his boyfriend's eyes, he sees that he raises a brow, tilting his head and resting his chin in his hand, like someone mocking the concept of being engaged. "Oh?" starts Tord, "And what might that be?"
"Well, I was just thinking, you know.."
"Yes, I got that part."
"Yeah! About.. when do you think we can actually tell Tom and Edd? About how we're, you know.." The mere mention of it makes Matt smile all giddy as he asks, rocking back and forth on his heels. Too busy faux-sheepishly looking away to see the way Tord's smile wanes a little. The way his eye twitches.
"..Ohh, Matt.." his voice lilts. "You know how Tom can get. So dramatic. Why spoil such a good thing?" He leans in closer, tilting his head at him, grin coming back. "Let's keep it between us just a bit longer. A little secret! It's more fun that way, right?"
And, well.. maybe? Matt thinks he'd very much like Tord to show him off. To talk loudly to the others, or even just to strangers, about what a prize Matt is. Matt would like to flaunt how Tord chose him, and likes him– loves him enough to call him his boyfriend. Sling an arm around Matt's waist in public. Kiss him on the cheek. Rest a hand on his leg during movie night.
But, then, maybe Tord's right. Putting the Tom thing aside, which is a viable reason, maybe it could be fun to keep it secret? Preferably not forever. But a little longer. Knowing looks at each other, secret touches, and all that. Because that would mean Matt is special enough to hold such an important, scandalous secret. And Matt likes to be special.
"Well, alright, I guess that does make sense!" His wilted expression gets more colorful again.
Giving a satisfied hum, Tord rests a hand on Matt's shoulder. Squeezes. It's immediately leaned into. "Smart boy," he coos, and Matt all but preens at that. "Now. Why don't we go do something fun? Unless you'd rather just stand around talking all day."
Well, Matt has never exactly been known for his affinity for not talking all day, but he's also never been known to dislike fun. So, of course he smiles all big, nodding his head, toddling along behind Tord as he leads him towards wherever. Outside, maybe? To the kitchen? Baking would be fun, even though Matt's pretty terrible at it- the thought passes with the kitchen counter as it goes by. They're headed towards Matt's bedroom. Matt wishes Tord would let him go in his bedroom already, figuring he should be done converting it back from being Tom's by now. Every time, though, Tord insists it's just too disorderly.
He holds Tord's hand on the way, but Tord's fingers are limp.
The second they get through the door, Tord shuts and locks it, and a coquettish giggle comes from Matt. Knowing what it means when this happens. He swivels a little bit, back and forth.
"What are you giggling for?" asks his boyfriend, with a grin that doesn't reach his eyes.
"Well, why else would you be locking the door?"
A laugh, dry and short. More of a hum than anything.
"Ahh. Don't get too excited. I was thinking we could try something."
That sounds nice, because Tord was thinking about Matt, wherever he was. Thinking about doing things with him. Matt feels himself grow wetter just at the mere concept of that sort of attention. He bats his lashes down at him.
"Oh, okay then. Like what?" He takes care to put a dose of sultriness in his tone. Brings his hand up to Tord's chest, does little circles with his middle finger there. Tord's eyes go lidded. He laughs again, though it doesn't even bring the corners of his mouth up. It seems almost aggravated. Like he wants to pull away.
"Mm," starts Tord, leaning up to place a kiss in the crook of Matt's neck, like he knows he likes. "Take your clothes off."
Who would Matt be to decline him? He hops to it immediately, shedding himself of his nice green blazer, slowly. Trying to be sensual about it. Performing, as he does away with his hoodie as well. But he stops at his belt. Tord's just standing there.
"What about you?" he pouts, "Come on, then!"
"No." It's spat out like an insult. Like he's disgusted. It hurts Matt's feelings, before he gentles his tone again. "We're trying something, remember?"
"But I don't want to be the only naked one!"
"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?"
That tone doesn't sit well with Matt. It makes him tilt his head, frowning. Tord rubs at his bare arm. Tracing across the freckles there.
"Can't I just see your.." a twitch of the muscles in his face. Pushing himself to say something. Tord clears his throat. "exquisite body?"
When it's put like that..
Dragged back into it again with another pulse in his t-dick. He hums like he's playing hard to get. Turns his nose up playfully. Even though he's doing it, taking his pants off, shimmying them down his shaven legs. Until he pauses at his boxers.
And that reprehensible, unbearable feeling crowns again. Self-consciousness. Why couldn't Tord just bare himself, too?
It makes him feel like the random hookups he used to seek out made him feel. For when he needed to feel beautiful. Feel wanted, like something of value. Faceless men he never knew, groping and fucking him rough, using him like a sleeve. His female anatomy made him something of a novelty item.
He's taken out of his reminiscing when Tord gives another request. An impatient sigh. "Sit on the floor, in front of the bed. And take off the boxers, too."
Huh?
"The floor-? But, the floor is dirty!"
A slow grin. An almost pitying laugh, as Tord's already leading him towards it with a hand on his back.
"And you aren't..?"
That's mean. Matt doesn't like it when his boyfriend says things like that, he decides. He doesn't think it's the sort of thing your boyfriend is supposed to say to you. He doesn't want to feel dirty, that's exactly what he's trying to avoid, what reminds him of the faceless men. He wants to feel loved. Not used. But Tord doesn't seem to care, not when he forces him down, his knees bumping painfully against the ground. Tord sits on his bed in front of him. Spreads his legs, lazy. Matt is silent now. Harboring an upset expression.
"Sorry. You prefer when I say nice things, right?" Tapping his finger on his leg. "Say you're pretty, hm?"
Matt gives an eager nod. Thank goodness, he understands.
"It makes you wet, yes?" A boot dragging up Matt's thigh. Back and forth.
A shy feeling comes over him, then. Which he also doesn't much care for. Face heating, he gives another, much more hesitant nod. But he shouldn't be hesitant about it. He should like it, just as much as Tord. Because this is something they're doing together, not just something being done to him. Right?
"Aw. That's.." the laugh he gives could be at nothing if not Matt's expense. "good, then."
His boot trails further up Matt's leg. Military grade, beaten up. The shine taken out of them. The black turned dusty. Dirty.
Right. The boxers. Matt shakily pulls them off. Shuts his legs on instinct, anxious about Tord's shoe so close to his softest parts. He hopes it isn't leading where he thinks it is. That'd just be unsanitary. Matt puts a great deal of effort into keeping himself clean.
Except it is leading there, because why else would Tord be spreading his legs back open with the steel toe?
"You know it's embarrassingly easy? To get you that way?"
A press, directly between Matt's thighs. He yelps and jerks away, rushing to shake his head no. An appalled look on his face. Tord responds by grabbing a handful of his hair and forcing him closer, pressing his cheek to the rough fabric on his knee.
"I accommodate the things you like all the time. I need you to endure this for me. Okay, Matt?"
Matt whines. Already starting to tear up, looking up at his boyfriend through furrowed brows, and he begins to shake his head no again, before Tord grinds his boot down hard. He squeezes around it, makes a wounded noise.
"You must be confused. I said, okay, Matt?"
But he's too spaced out on his rapidly depleting ego - a death sentence, a forced staring into the void of who he actually may be, or the lack thereof. He's too busy quivering and muttering to himself.
Tord's there to snap him right back to attention. He slaps him across the face so hard it sends him wobbly. Makes him immediately burst into sniffling sobs.
"God, you know. I really thought it was an act. But you are just that fucking stupid."
An odd thing about how he says it. How he has to palm himself through his pants when he does. He sounds disgusted, of course, as he steadily has more and more around Matt, but he sounds equal parts breathless. His eyes seem more grey than green. Zeroing in.
"What would you do if I weren't here to look at you? Hm? What have you already done in your time waiting for me?"
As he goes on, his boot keeps mashing up against Matt's cunt in a way that hurts. Too hard on his t-dick, like being tickled past the point of being able to take it. It keeps forcing pained yelps and whines from him. Legs spasming uselessly around it.
"You hate it so much. And yet you're just sitting there. Enduring."
He is. Why is he? Does it have anything to do with just how much Tord seems to like this? More than before, it makes everything else he's ever said to him seem artificial. Likely because it was. Tord's attention, now, feels like being peeled open. It hurts, but it's more real than anything Matt's ever felt. It's conflicting. It makes his hips give a confused stutter.
Tord seems to be thinking very intensely about something as this goes on. As he moves his boot back and forth, back and forth, sometimes like he's pressing down on a gas pedal. It begins to make Matt dizzy. Make him go lax. Still crying, but softer, and dispersed with hesitant moans that always seem to catch Tord's attention. Make Tord excited, try to do it harder, faster, and then it stops feeling even slightly good. But still a knot forms in Matt's stomach.
Still, this is the worst he's ever felt about himself, and surely the hardest he's ever came.
His back straightens out and he grabs onto Tord's leg as it happens. Squeaking out an "oh, God," more of a lament than anything. Wave after wave of it hits him, it just keeps going, until his vision is blurry and he's finding it hard to stay upright.
No need, when Tord grabs the back of his neck, pulling him up to the bed. This is the part where he fucks him, Matt thinks, and becomes disturbed at how it's more like he hopes.
But not quite. Tord shoves him to his back and brings both Matt's legs together, puts them over one of his shoulders. And then unzips, fitting himself - harder than he's ever been during any of their sexual encounters - in the tight space between his freckled thighs. Underside of his dick rubbing just barely against his sore cunt. But not enough to give him any gratification.
"You're going to make.." a brush back of Matt's hair, a hungry and broken breath. "Such. A good soldier for me."
And all Matt hears is good. Limp against the bed, eyes lidded and focused on nothing in particular, the slick and dirty slide of Tord between his legs, he thinks; this is the most he's ever been loved. He thinks, it was silly of him to think that was possible, without also being used.
Again he basks in the attention. This new, real kind of attention. He closes his eyes, and he smiles.
Matt likes being special.