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Till glares, and he folds his scrawny arms over his chest, mouth pulled into a scowl. Ivan is fighting to conceal his amused smirk, and it just pisses him off more to see the way his eyes twinkle with mirth. Where the fuck does he get off thinking this is funny?
“I don’t want to bottom,” Till says again, and Ivan pets down his side like he’s trying to soothe an angry animal. Till throws his hand off with a sloppy wave of his arm, and then Ivan really does laugh. With an annoyed whine, Till smacks him, slapping his palm into Ivan’s shoulder. Frustratingly, the sting is dampened by the jacket Ivan’s wearing, and he doesn’t even pretend to flinch to preserve Till’s dignity. Till wants to kill him. He might, actually, but his mom would be so sad if he went to jail, and he can’t do that to her.
“Till,” Ivan begins, even tempered and mature. He lays a placating hand on Till’s knee, and his fingertips dip into the rips in the fabric to rub at his bony joint. With an irritated huff, he whacks Ivan’s hand, but it doesn’t budge. “I merely suggested I top because you have a more difficult time achieving orgasm without penetration.” Till’s eye twitches. Ivan is implying he’s a slut, but he’s not even saying things that are wrong. “Your stamina is also rather lacking.”
Actually, Till doesn’t care if it’ll make his mom sad. He needs to kill Ivan, and their school can lose every football game for the rest of the year and be plunged into shame. He doesn’t care.
“Fuck you!” Till shouts, explosive and definitely excessively loud given the fact that they’re in his tiny bedroom with the door shut. Ivan’s fighting back a smile, though, and it pisses him off so much he can’t fucking think straight. Fuck Ivan. Fuck Ivan and his stupid fucking cocky smirk. “I do not need your dick in me to cum! Gimme a vibrator and I’ll fucking show you, asshole.”
Interest ignites in Ivan’s eyes, he’s tempted, but he’s a horrible pervert so Till should have expected that. That’s what he gets for saying shit without thinking first. Rage tears through him, and he full on punches Ivan in the chest with a growl of irritation. His fist makes a thunk when it makes contact, and it hurts , ow. Stupid Ivan and his stupid fucking thick muscles. He makes Till’s mouth water, but it’s not because Ivan is hot! His body just produces extra saliva sometimes. Whatever. Till’s not thinking about how his dick tastes and about biting into his stupidly solid biceps.
“I’m not doing that,” Till snaps, and Ivan sighs performatively like the little bitch he is. With a dramatic sweep of his arms, he offers a truce: a fist curled in the palm of his left hand.
“Play me for it then.” His expression is flat and completely serious. He straightens his shoulders like he’s a fucking professional rock paper scissors competitor getting into his starting position, and he looks Till in the eye confidently. It pisses him off, Ivan knows he can’t turn down a challenge, and Till growls his fury as he assumes the same pose.
“On ‘shoot’,” Ivan says, like they haven’t challenged each other to a million rounds of this game since before they were old enough to follow its rules. Till knows his tells, too, and Ivan has no clue. No fucking way he’s gonna win.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” Ivan recites, and they bounce their hands in their palms in time. “Shoot.”
Paper. Ivan reaches out and clips it with his scissored fingers. Till’s eyes feel like they could bulge out of his head from how mad he is, and Ivan’s tiny little smirk isn’t making it any better. Why is he having sex with him? Why is Till dating him? Why didn’t he refuse to be friends with Ivan fifteen years ago?
“Best two out of three,” he demands. Ivan presses his lips together, but his eyes betray his amusement. They glimmer as they meet Till’s, and then he nods. He’s too fucking confident. Till doesn’t have any tells, so he’s got no reason to be so damn smug.
“Best two out of three,” Ivan agrees. Till suspects it’s only because he wants to watch him squirm for longer. That, or he is completely assured he’s going to win. Either way, he’s an asshole.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” Ivan chants, and Till throws paper again the moment he says ‘shoot’. Ivan’s brows dart up to his forehead, and Till laughs mockingly as he smacks his hand around his closed fist. One more win. He’s got this in the fucking bag.
“Hmm,” Ivan hums like he didn’t expect the outcome. His jaw shifts from side to side as he examines Till carefully, and he looks like he’s trying to see into his brain to figure out what Till’s going to throw next. His eyes are squinted just slightly, and satisfaction bubbles in an excited thrill in his gut.
They both settle back into position. Ivan’s expression is grave, and he keeps his eyes glued to Till’s hands. Unfortunately for him, Till is not going to give away his next move. He is going to win, and then he’s gonna fuck Ivan into the mattress and make him beg for it too.
“Rock, paper, scissors.” Ivan’s fist tightens; he’s going to throw rock again. Till cannot bite back his grin. Crimson eyes lift, and they meet his own. “Shoot.”
Rock.
Till whoops as he covers Ivan’s fist with his hand, and he cackles a little like an evil villain. Ivan doesn't look surprised in the slightest, and his expression remains mostly flat except for that little twinkle in his eyes. He looks like he lost on purpose and is trying not to reveal that, but Till is just that good at rock paper scissors. Ivan is just trying to protect his own ego by pretending it was intentional, and it won’t work.
“Get fucked, asshole!” he barks, and Ivan sighs, letting his arms droop as he rests his hands in his lap. He doesn’t look impressed, and he quirks a dark brow at Till as he gloats.
“This isn’t very good sportsmanship, Till.” His tone is scolding, and when Till hits him on the arm and laughs in his face, his expression sours. “You should accept your win graciously.”
Till does not. He mocks Ivan thoroughly for another thirty seconds, and then he takes his victory lap to the bin under his dresser where they keep their toys. He digs through it to the bottom where his dick lies, and he pulls it out before he throws it onto the bed. It nearly hits Ivan, but he’s got perfect reflexes, and he dodges with a sideways lean.
The dildo he picked is painfully obnoxious, intentionally chosen to embarrass Ivan when he takes it. It’s shiny black and printed all over with an ugly lace overlay. Skulls and crossbones line the shaft, and there’s an electric guitar stamped on each of the balls like they’d be forgotten about if they weren’t marked. It’s the most hideous thing he’s ever seen, and he can’t fathom a world where someone thinks it’s sexy. He can’t imagine why they’d even make it in the first place, except for instances just like this where it’s used with the intention of humiliating one’s partner. He’s pretty sure it had been advertised as an ‘emo girl’s best friend’, but no self respecting emo would ever use this.
Ivan, pococurante, lifts one thick brow in his direction as Till clambers back into bed. He drops a bottle of lube and his harness onto the sheets to their right, and he doesn’t attempt to conceal his smug grin.
“Take off your clothes,” Till commands, ripping his own shirt over his head. It messes up his bangs, and he flicks them back into place with a practiced motion. He’s not going to fuck Ivan if his hair is ugly, and he does not buy into that shit Ivan says about how he’s always gorgeous. His arm warmers come off next, and he slides them off his palms and throws them onto the floor where they meet the same crumpled fate as his shirt.
Obediently, Ivan complies with his order. He peels off his pretentious varsity jacket and then his shirt, and he folds both like he’s getting them ready for a store display. He leans over the side of the bed to set them on the floor, and the sculpted muscles around his shoulder blades make Till feel syrupy and warm. There are thin red lines all over his back from Till’s nails, healed in various stages, and he wants to leave more.
Ivan leans back against the pillows to take off his jeans. Till cannot help but watch his fingers move as he unbuckles his belt and pops open the button of his pants. His thighs look so strong through the thick denim, and Till’s practically drooling as he imagines sinking his teeth into them. He always smells like woodsy body wash and fucking cologone too, except when he’s fresh from football practice and sticky with sweat. That makes Till crazy, actually.
Ivan clears his throat, and Till’s eyes snap to his face. He’s wearing an annoying fucking arrogant jeer, and Till’s features are a hot blaze of embarrassment over being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His mother would be ashamed.
“Are you going to undress?” Ivan inquires, drawing the teeth of his zipper apart with a steady pull. The sound draws his attention, Till can’t help but look, and his eyes dart up as soon as he realizes he’s staring again.
“Fuck off, Ivan,” Till snaps back intelligently. The burn of shame deepens across his flesh, and he averts his eyes to look at literally anything else. Ivan’s laugh is fond and deep and makes his stomach flutter, but Till is way more interested in the band posters on his wall, thank you very much.
His fingers fumble as he opens his studded belt. It takes him two tries to pry the leather from the prong of the buckle, and the studs get caught in the loops of his pants when he tries to pull it frere all the way. Ivan puffs out a poorly concealed laugh, and Till aborts his mission and leaves it dangling. Instead, he rips open the zipper of his torn jeans and shoves them down his legs, kicking them off his feet over the edge of the bed. He shucks off his underwear too, leaving him in just his binder and his accessories. His rings clink together, he should probably take them off, but Ivan deserves a little sting as punishment for his behavior when Till fingers him.
Ivan leans down beside him again, laying his neat bundle of pants and underwear and socks atop his other clothes. Till’s socks smack him in the side of the head when he tosses them towards the floor, and he turns his head to glower at him. He does, however, flare his nostrils before he straightens, and Till is pretty sure it’s because he’s sniffing his dirty clothes like a deranged pervert. Clearly, he’s not that upset.
With more elegance than is fair for him to possess, Ivan reclines in the bed. His body is corded with athletic muscles, every part of him is carefully crafted for performance and strength, and Till cannot get enough of it. He looks good with his clothes on, yeah, but he looks so much better with them off, and Till’s the only one who ever gets to see it. Well, except his teammates in the shower, but they don’t see the parts that count.
Till situates himself on his knees between Ivan’s legs. They’re heavy when Ivan drapes them over his lap, and Till’s teeth ache with the urge to imprint his dental record onto them. When did he turn into a freak too? Fuck. Ivan’s corrupting him. He pops the cap of the lube open, and he upends it over his digits. It slinks behind his rings when it drips down them, and Till wishes he’d take them off. It’s so stubborn to wash off once it’s dried beneath them.
Too late. Till lowers his hand to smear the lube across Ivan’s hole, and his breath catches as the cold gel makes contact with his flesh. Pleased, Till bites into his smirk, and he angles his hand to slide his index finger into Ivan. His walls clench around it, he can’t hide how badly he wants Till to fuck him, and Till crooks his finger up to pet over the spongy part inside Ivan’s cunt. He huffs out a breath, still too composed, and his hips remain firmly in place where they rest against the mattress.
Till gives him another one, shoving it in knuckle deep until Ivan’s body swallows the ring around his middle finger. It’s a hard shock of unforgiving metal, and he jolts, but he doesn’t pull away even though Till knows it stings. He’s fingered himself before. He knows rings don’t make it pleasant.
“You good?” Till mumbles, and Ivan’s eyes crack open. His brows are pinched just a little in the middle, but the rest of his face is relaxed. His abdomen tenses as he inhales, making every sculpted line on his stomach stand out starkly, and then the muscles relax as he breathes out. God, he’s- Till is going crazy .
Ivan nods, just a single firm bob of his head, and he lifts his hips to arch into the pressure of Till’s hand. His muscles flutter around his digits as he bears down on them, and Till wishes more than anything that he could feel that around his dick. It would be so much better than his fingers, but this is as good as it gets. He doesn’t want to dwell on what he’s missing.
“I’m good,” Ivan promises, breathy. There is the slightest flush on the apples of his cheeks, and his lashes kiss his flawless skin as he shuts his eyes. He is so perfect, it’s really not fair. His dad isn’t this hot. Why did he win the gene pool lottery?
Till takes the answer without argument. He gives Ivan a third finger, spreading them apart to watch the way his entrance stretches around his rings, and he crooks them up as Ivan pants and grinds into his hand. His clit is hard and peeks out from the hood, and if the angle weren’t so awkward, Till would lean down and put his mouth around it. He wants to, there’s nothing quite like feeling Ivan’s dick throb on his tongue, but he’s busy right now and he refuses to get distracted.
Once he deems Ivan loose enough, he draws his hand back, eyes locked onto the way his muscles constrict around it. Ivan’s body doesn’t want to let it go, he wants to get fucked even if he bitches about it, and Till is deeply satisfied by that knowledge. His big stacked slut, desperate only for Till.
With a long exhale, Till wipes his sticky hand on the sheets. It earns him a judgemental stare from Ivan, but they’re not his fucking sheets so he doesn’t get to care. Besides, Till is capable of washing them and putting on new ones without his mommy, so they won’t even have to sleep in a wet spot.
With awkward, eager hands, he slides his harness up his legs. He always feels a little silly during this part, and Ivan’s piercing stare doesn’t help. Till avoids looking anywhere near him as he tightens the straps around his hips and adjusts the front to sit firmly against his pubic bone, and the leather feels slippery and uncomfortable against his cunt where it rests between his thighs. He is embarrassingly wet already, but obviously he’s turned on when his boyfriend looks like this.
Getting the dick into the o-ring in the front is even worse. He has to tilt it to the side to get the flared base into it, and the silicone makes a pop that’s way too loud when he finally pushes it through. It’s heavy and awkward dangling off his pelvis, and the harness droops from the weight of it. Till yanks the straps to tighten them further, and they cut into his hip bones so it can sit snugly against him. It is definitely not flattering, not like when Ivan wears his harness and it fits around his muscled hips so nicely. His dick is thick and so realistic Till wouldn’t question it if he pulled it out at a urinal, and it makes him fucking insane with the way it skewers him so deeply. It sits high in his cunt and stretches him open around the hilt of it, and Ivan paws at his guts to feel it in his stomach every time he fucks him with it. It feels so good , and Till would do nearly anything to have it inside him. There is nothing like when Ivan slides it into him and-
Anyway.
Till’s face is burning. He gets up onto his knees as Ivan shoves a pillow beneath his hips. It angles his pelvis open and gives Till the perfect angle to slide his dick through his slippery folds, smearing the obnoxious dildo with leftover lube. It’s not enough, though, and Ivan jolts as he pours more over the shaft and it drips icily onto his hot cunt. The satisfaction Till gets from his hiss is probably a little mean, but whatever.
“You ready for me?” Till’s voice is low, and Ivan’s eyes snap open to lock onto his. The crimson in his eyes looks so dark like this, tainted with desire with his pupils dilated so wide, and Till feels like he’s caught in their gooey trap. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat, and it’s suddenly a little harder to take a full breath than it was before. What the hell is wrong with him?
Ivan nods, just once. His arms extend until he can curl his hands around Till’s forearms, and his fingertips brush over the tendons in his wrists as Till grips onto his knee, holding the base of his dick in his other hand. “Fuck me, Till,” he murmurs, and Till cannot help the shameful way his hips jump. He’s horny, okay? Sue him.
It doesn't take any more convincing. Awkwardly, Till shifts his weight on his knees until he gets the leverage he needs to tilt his pelvis forward, and he presses into Ivan in a barely controlled motion. He takes it easily, exhaling softly as he clings to Till, and he doesn’t stop until he’s halfway inside.
“Are you okay?” Till breathes, his voice quaky despite not being able to feel it. It doesn't matter if it’s real when the sight alone of Ivan’s cunt swallowing his dick is so captivating, and he’s got a good imagination anyway. Till can extrapolate the feeling of Ivan’s fingers stroking up either side of his hard clit to his strap on, and it’s intense.
Ivan nods, quick and almost frantic. His blunt nails scratch over Till’s wrists as his hips twitch and push his dick deeper into him, and he breathes out a bitten back groan as he arches into it. The flush on his cheekbones has spread out to the tips of his ears, and his hair sticks to his forehead where he’s started sweating a little.
“I’m okay,” Ivan promises, and Till can see it when he bears down on the dildo. His muscles constrict and his dick pulses, and he’s so fucking wet. He’s perfect in every way, even with his freakish behavior. Till loves him, he loves him so much it’s crazy, and not just because he takes his dick so well.
Shakily, Till pushes the rest of the dildo into Ivan. The leather of the harness creaks as he bottoms out, and Till’s legs tremble. His breath leaves him in a rush as he drops his chin to his chest, and his mind reels with the stimuli assaulting it. Ivan looks so gorgeous stretched out around Till’s stupid embarrassing cock, and the pressure of their hips slotted together pushes the backside of the harness into his clit hard. It sends a shock of pleasure through the whole length of his dick, and he’s fucking dripping down his thighs like a shameful whore.
He’s losing his fucking mind. He can’t stay still for long, just a few moments to let Ivan adjust. With a trembling inhale, Till draws his hips back, and then he shoves into Ivan to the hilt. It makes them both gasp, and when Till leans over him to brace himself with his hands on either side of Ivan’s solid torso, his arms come up around his shoulders to hold onto him. Ivan is shaking too, and he sounds so good when he pants into Till’s ear and whimpers his name.
The angle is hard, and Till doesn’t have the strength in his legs to fuck Ivan for very long. His arms turn to jelly and his thighs shake as he thrusts, but Ivan holds onto him and whines about how good it feels, so he’s doing something right. His thighs come up to trap Till against his body, cock seated deep inside his cunt, and he grinds his hips up against him in needy little circles.
“You sound,” Till pants, turning to bury his face into Ivan’s throat where he can hear his breath rasp. “Like a fucking whore.” Ivan’s wheeze startles him, and his hips thrash against Till’s. His fingers sink into the long hair at the nape of his neck, and Till huffs a laugh into his collarbone. “You like that, huh?”
Ivan doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. He tightens his grip on Till, and he groans low in his chest as he draws his hips back to keep thrusting into him. It’s hard to keep a rhythm when his legs feel so shaky, but he’s doing his best, and he doesn’t spend two hours in the gym everyday like somebody does because football is really fucking stupid and being muscular would ruin his emo aesthetic.
For a few minutes, he keeps up his stilted rhythm. Till pats himself on the back for it in his head because he can fuck, thank you very much, and he is more than just a scrawny emo twink. Ivan gasps praise into his ear and Till groans to him about being his easy slut, and he clutches onto Till so desperately. Finally, he can’t hold himself up anymore, and Till shoves himself back on weak arms to pull his dick out of Ivan. His cunt does everything in its power to keep him inside, and Till feels a little lunatic as he watches the lube he’d fucked into Ivan spill out of him as his muscles milk his cock until it’s gone.
“Move,” Till gasps, because if he keeps staring he’s not going to be able to resist getting his mouth on Ivan’s cunt. He slaps his palm against the outside of Ivan’s firm thigh, and he pushes himself upright to sit fully. Ivan’s skin is shiny with sweat, and it clings to the dips of his muscles and glistens temptingly on the curves. There’s a bead sitting right next to his left nipple that should be on Till’s tongue, but he’s not a freak who will lick the sweat off Ivan’s pec, all muscle and no fat from how often he works out.
Till claims Ivan’s spot against the pillows once he moves out of the way, and he spreads his legs apart to give Ivan a place to sit atop his thighs. His cock stands proudly, even though it really shouldn’t because it’s so fucking ugly, the silicone shiny with lube. There’s a wet spot in the sheets against his lower back, and Till’s not sure if it’s lube or from Ivan’s cunt.
“Come on,” he encourages, closing both his hands around Ivan’s strong hips. He tugs, urging him to sink into his lap, and Ivan wraps his fist around the base of Till’s dick as he swings a leg over his pelvis. “Ride me, Ivan.” His name makes him twitch, and Ivan’s hips jerk as he ruts against the head of his cock. It should look ridiculous, but Ivan’s oozing confidence and desire and it’s so fucking sexy Till thinks he might die if he stares at him any longer. He’s never going to be able to be normal about anything ever again.
With a low groan, Ivan sinks down onto his cock. He keeps his eyes glued to Till’s expression as he moves, and he doesn’t stop until he’s seated fully in his lap. He’s fucking heavy, his weight feels like it could crush Till if he rode him too hard, but then he lifts himself up on his knees and fits a hand over his abdomen and breathes out a moan, and the pressure lessens.
“You feel so good inside of me,” Ivan praises, hips undulating in a leisurely back and forth grind. He presses his palm down on his stomach, intensifying the pressure of Till’s dick in him, and his deep moan rumbles through Till’s core. He sounds so good, and he can hear how wet Ivan is when he lifts his hips and drops back down onto his dick all the way. The angle shoves the harness firmly against Till’s pubic bone, and it rubs slippery wet against his throbbing clit every time Ivan moves.
His moans are throaty as he rides Till, and he doesn’t stop fucking touching himself. His hands drift over his gut and into his hair, and then Ivan cups a palm around the meat of his chest as he thumbs at his nipple, and Till can’t help the way his hips jolt.
“You look like a whore,” he insults, but the whiny tone of it doesn’t quite land as the scathing blow he intended it to be. Ivan’s laugh is just an exhale of breath, and he grinds against Till’s pelvis as he drops his hand to his dick. Till’s hands clench around his hips, holding onto Ivan like he’ll lose his grip on reality if he doesn’t, and Ivan huffs out a groan at the deep sting of the hold. Till hopes it bruises, but his fingers probably aren’t strong enough even though he plays his guitar all the time.
“You’re gorgeous,” Ivan breathes, his fingers rubbing over his clit in hard circles. It’s practiced and not nearly as urgent as Till feels, and it’s so unfair that he’s not drooling and whining over Till’s cock. He wants to make Ivan cry and fall apart, but instead it’s Till losing his breath and grasping onto him so intensely.
It doesn’t take him long after that. Ivan puts all his focus into rocking up and down on Till’s cock, grinding his hips forward every time it bottoms out in him to rut the head of his dick into his walls. He groans low in his chest and paws at his clit, and Till scratches at his pelvis and arches his hips up to get all the sensation he can. It’s not enough, he needs more, and his dick is fucking throbbing as Ivan rises and falls in his lap.
With a rough moan of Till’s name, Ivan sits himself fully on his cock. He drops his head and presses his free hand deep into his abdomen to feel for Till’s dick inside him, and his fingers fly over his clit. His hips jerk unsteadily, and then they flow into an insistent rock as he cums over his cock. He is so wet, Till can hear how wet he is, and he cannot look away from the rapture in Ivan’s expression as he loses himself. He is so beautiful. Till is so grateful to bear witness to him like this.
His hips slow, and Ivan huffs out a shaky exhale as he stills in Till’s lap. His pelvis twitches with the aftershocks of his orgasm, and he drops both his hands to lay flat on Till’s stomach. It caves in from the touch as Till gasps, oversensitive and on edge, and Ivan laughs breathily.
“You can’t cum like this, huh?” he asks, his hair falling out of his face as he tips his head to the side. He doesn’t intend it as snarky, but it comes across that way, and Till whines as he pushes his hips up. The movement makes Ivan shudder, and Till revels in the reaction. He’s sensitive after his orgasm, but his nerves aren’t on fire like Till’s, raw and yearning.
Frustrated, Till grinds his teeth, and he shakes his head in a sharp turn left and right. He wants to cum, and he craves the feeling of shoving his hips up and holding onto Ivan as he fills him up, but it’s not enough. The pressure of the harness against his clit is deep, but he needs more.
Ivan doesn’t respond. Instead, he swings his leg over Till’s body as he climbs out of his lap, sliding off his cock. It’s coated in his slick fluids and the egregious amount of lube they’d used, and it just draws attention to how fucking ridiculous it looks. Shame curls in Till’s belly, his emotions raw from how close to the edge he feels, and he fumbles to undo the straps at his hips. Isn’t Ivan supposed to be the one embarrassed about his dick?
It’s awkward to slide the harness out from beneath him. The leather sticks to him, his skin is tacky with sweat, and it spreads his arousal over his thighs and the shaved mound of his pubic bone. He is humiliatingly wet, and he wants to cum so badly he feels like he could snap.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” Ivan asks from low in his throat, trailing his fingers up Till’s leg through the mess at the inside of his thigh. His hips jolt as it shocks through him, and Ivan laughs fondly, his fingertips passing over his twitching cunt before they dart away again.
Till whines, throwing an arm across his face, and he shakes his head erratically. He does, his cunt fucking clenches when Ivan asks, but he’s too proud to admit it. He can’t get the words out, not when he’s so fucking close he could scream.
“Till,” Ivan levels, and he curls his fingers around the back of Till’s thigh and squeezes deep into the muscle. It hurts, but the feeling also goes straight to his dick, and Till huffs a shuddery exhale. Reluctantly, he slides his arm down over his mouth, slanting squinted eyes up towards Ivan. Teal catches crimson, and Ivan lifts a brow at him as he stares into his soul and examines the wrinkles of his brain.
“Let me fuck you,” he murmurs, his fingers extending so he can dip them into the wetness between Till’s folds. It’s not a question, but he’s asking for permission anyway, and Till can’t stop himself from angling his hips to press into his hand. He aches for the stretch of something inside him, and he’s not sure if he’s going to be able to cum without it.
“Okay,” is what he finally mumbles, and Ivan’s responding hum is pleased and rumbly. The bed dips as he rises from it, and Till can’t look at him anymore. His fucking muscles are too much to bear. He can’t take it.
The springs of Till’s mattress creak. He cracks his eyes open to find Ivan kneeling between his feet, and his fat fucking dick hangs heavily between his legs. Till’s hips jerk, he can’t fucking help it, okay, and he bites down on an urgent whine at the sight of it. God, he wants it inside him more than he can fathom, and he’s going to kill somebody if it doesn’t happen in the next thirty seconds. He is willing to go to jail for cock, specifically Ivan’s.
“Put the pillow under your hips,” Ivan instructs, his tone smooth like fucking velvet. Till scrambles to follow, shoving it beneath his pelvis, and it helps his legs fall open wide when he relaxes them. Ivan climbs between them on his knees, broad hands passing over the length of his limbs, and they come to rest on Till’s hips where he squeezes affectionately.
“You think you can take it without lube?” he questions, and rage bubbles in Till’s gut. Ivan knows he can, Till’s sure he saw the fucking puddle under him, but he’s only asking to humiliate him and make him admit how badly he wants it. Till’s not biting. Fuck him.
“Just do it,” he barks, and Ivan puffs a laugh, a smug look drawing his lips into a smirk. He’s too fucking composed for just being done riding Till’s dick. It’s not fair.
Mercifully, Ivan does not tease much. He fits a hand around the base of his cock and rubs it all over Till’s cunt, spreading his wetness over the length of it. It bumps into the underside of his clit, and Till’s whole body jolts as he wheezes. He’s so sensitive, and his body feels tingly.
With a groan that passes through his clenched teeth, Ivan pushes into him, and Till jumps as the head slips inside. It’s thick and firm, and when he bears down on it there’s barely any give. Ivan doesn’t stop, though, and Till scrabbles to cling onto him by his unfairly attractive biceps with his nails as his cunt stretches around it. He’s taken it countless times before, his body is familiar with it, but it’s hard to relax and breathe through it when he feels so on edge.
Ivan’s hand slips from his cock, and he passes his thumb over the pulsing line of Till’s clit. It sends a hot stab of pleasure through the length of it to the base, and his hips jerk into the touch. “Relax, Till,” he murmurs, and Till exhales a quivering moan as Ivan slots himself deeper into his body. His cock carves out a thick space for itself in Till’s cunt, and he has no choice but to welcome it.
With one harsh thrust, Ivan bottoms out. Till digs his nails into his shoulders, mouth dropping open with a high whine, and every muscle in his body screams with tension. Ivan’s thumb presses into his clit with deep pressure, and Till’s eyes burn with unshed tears. He is unrelenting, and when he leans over to shove his hand deep into Till’s guts to feel for the breach of his cock, they spill onto his cheeks.
Ivan laughs, he fucking laughs, and then his hips grind into motion. Both his hands come up to yank Till’s thighs up against his torso, hooking his knees over his shoulders and forcing his back into a dramatic arch, and the pressure inside him intensifies into a blinding wildfire. The angle shoves the head of his cock directly into the front wall of his cunt, and every time Ivan pushes his hips forward it cuts him deep with pleasure. It is so much, Till can’t fucking think, and he whimpers as Ivan thrusts into him.
As expected, it doesn’t take long for Till to fall apart. He holds onto Ivan with trembling hands and cries as he fucks into him, and Ivan murmurs praise under his breath. He grips Till with hands so strong his muscles will ache from the hold later, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Till’s face for even a moment. The attention makes him weak, and he can’t hold the contact of their eyes as he loses himself.
One hand drops from his thigh, and Ivan reaches between them to rub at the hard line of Till’s clit. He is so wet that Ivan's fingers slip, but it doesn’t matter. The sensation is enough to shove Till right over the edge, and he sobs as his orgasm tears through him. His hips thrust urgently against Ivan’s pelvis, and his muscles milk the thick cock inside him as he cums.
Ivan doesn’t relent until he’s done, and Till smacks his hand away with a gasp. He’s so sensitive it feels like his clit is on fire, and the aftershocks tear through him like electric shocks as they wrack his whole body. He can’t stop clenching around Ivan’s dick, and when he pulls out of him, his cunt tries desperately to draw it back inside.
“See?” Ivan croons, both his hands gripping Till’s ass to spread him apart. He stares deep into his gaping cunt with eyes that miss nothing, and Till doesn’t have the energy to be ashamed. “I gave you what you needed, didn’t I? I know what your body wants better than you do.”
Shakily, Till kicks at him, but it doesn’t have a hope of landing. Ivan catches the heel of his foot in his palm and brings it to his mouth to kiss it, and Till pants as he tries to become a person again. Ivan trails a worshipping line of open mouthed kisses up the length of his legs, and when he reaches Till’s cunt, he sinks his teeth into the fat pad over his pubic bone. It hurts, but it also sends a stab of heat into the base of his clit, so Till really can’t complain that much.
With a final pass of his tongue over the entirety of his pussy, Ivan straightens. He lets Till’s legs down off his shoulders carefully, and he grunts as his stiff muscles relax. It hurts, his joints ache and his body feels jellied and quaky, but satisfaction sits in the pit of his belly and overwhelms everything else.
“Let’s go take a shower.” Ivan rubs his knuckles purposefully into Till’s hips to massage out the tension pinching them, and Till bobs his head in a nod that feels far away. He lets Ivan haul him up out of bed, and he traipses into the bathroom with him on trembling legs that feel like they can barely support his weight.
As he leans against the cool wall of the shower, Till realizes his mistake. Best two out of three. How did he end up bottoming anyway?
Ivan washes his hair, and Till lets him scrub it with his head bowed under the water. They pat themselves dry with thin towels, and Till changes the sheets as Ivan starts the washer. His mom doesn’t need to see the evidence of their whorish behavior when she comes home.
“I’ll pick the movie,” Ivan states once they’ve settled onto the couch. Till scowls, throwing a scornful look towards him, and Ivan widens both his eyes like he’s surprised by the reaction.
“I want to pick,” Till snaps, and Ivan’s laugh fuels the fiery rage in his core.
“Alright,” Ivan acquiesces. He lifts both hands, right fist curled in his open palm. “I’ll play you for it.”
Till loses three out of three.