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“Touchdown!” An announcer shouts, the whole stadium erupting in raucous, obnoxious cheers. No one should be this excited over some beefy guys throwing a ball.
Till is, as usual, agitated. He does not like crowds, does not like loud noises, and he does not like sports. He’s never seen the appeal, especially when some of the guys on the team he’s supposed to be rooting for have called him slurs to his face.
What Till does love—unfortunately for his own wellbeing—is his stupid boyfriend, who happens to love football. And goddamnit, if Ivan will let himself be dragged to art exhibits and come to every underground show he plays at, Till will suffer through the scorching sun and the obnoxious fans. Even if it kind of makes him want to die.
It’s not all bad, thankfully. As an on-campus student, he gets a pretty close-up seat, and that means a great view of Ivan in all of his sweaty, focused, toned glory. Ivan is objectively gorgeous, and even better to look at when you know you’ll get to touch those pecs later.
“You’re staring, lover boy,” an even, straight voice chimes next to him. Till groans.
“Shut up. Everyone knows you don’t go to these games to support Ivan,” he chides, gesturing at Sua’s highlighter pink girlfriend doing some cheer routine on the field. She flushes.
In all actuality, Till couldn’t judge at all, he was obsessed with Mizi in their early high school days. He understands the appeal. Sua is, by all means, lucky as hell. Till is lucky, too, though. He could no longer imagine his life without Ivan in every bit of it.
They sit in silence for the rest of the game. Sua is weird, but Till finds himself fond of her. Her quiet company is nice.
No one is surprised when Anakt University wins. Still, Ivan looks giddy like a little kid, whirling around to look for Till in the audience, and it’s unfairly endearing. It feels like getting hit with a large, damp, smelly boulder when Ivan crashes into him in a hug, and Till yelps, laughing softly when he falls over.
“We won,” Ivan croons, ever proud of himself.
“You always win.” Ivan laughs at that, nodding into his shoulder.
“So,” he murmurs, giving a promising up-and-down sweep with his eyes. “When’s my reward, Till?
Oh boy. Ivan has that crude sing-song lilt in his voice, the one he always gets when he’s feeling smug.
They have a bit of a routine for Ivan’s games. Any time Ivan’s team wins (which is always), Ivan is allowed one night of doing anything within boundaries, though he often surprises Till with how vanilla he can be. Marathon cuddles are also on the table if he’s feeling soft that day, but what with the look he’s giving him right now, Till is pretty certain that’s not in store for him.
Till smacks Ivan in the chest when he feels a hand groping his ass, not that it actually does much, but the message is received.
“We’re in public, idiot!” He snaps, glowering at Ivan, who promptly grabs him and starts dragging him to his car; as if to say, “let’s fix that.” Till rolls his eyes fondly, he knows he’s in for a long night.
As soon as they make it to Ivan’s stupid fancy ass car, Till is shoved up against the door, a hand gripping his jaw tightly as Ivan presses their lips together in a frenzy. His free hand grabs Till by the hip, and the shorter whines into his lips, the kiss quickly turning wet, but Till forces himself to push Ivan away. He whimpers like a kicked puppy, but backs off nonetheless.
The ride home is quiet, and Till is focusing very fucking hard on the road instead of the way heat curls in his gut while Ivan gropes his thigh as he drives. He’s a damned pervert, but his evil tactics are very effective.
He gasps when a finger presses up against the seam of his skinny jeans, right along his crotch. His head whirls, looking over at Ivan incredulously, but Ivan has a perfectly calm look on his face, eyes zeroed in on the road. Till could kill him right now. He considers it for a moment, leaning over and throttling Ivan to death, but before he can put any more thought into it the finger migrates.
Till barely stops himself from moaning out loud as that single finger trails down, then up, and repeat. Up, down, up, down. He wonders if Ivan can feel his jeans getting damp.
The pressure is light enough that it isn’t actually getting him anywhere, and yet it keeps him uncomfortably wet. He needs Ivan to hurry the fuck up getting them to his apartment or he may do something very stupid and get them both in a car wreck.
When they finally get to his apartment building, Till is immediately storming towards the elevator, and Ivan laughs at him for his eagerness. He cannot fucking wait to shut him up.
Ivan grabs him by the wrist, suddenly taking the lead, pulling him into another kiss when the elevator closes. Insatiable, truly, but Till is no better right now. He’s pressed up against the wall when the door slides back open with a dinging sound, and this time Ivan pulls away. He sighs, letting himself be pulled once again, into the familiar apartment. Most of the decor and all the random items lying around were his own, so it’s familiar and comfortable. Ivan doesn’t care much for that kind of thing.
Till yelps when Ivan shoves him into the wall with far more fervor than any of the previous moments today, practically smashing their faces together.
“Ivan—” he gasps out around the sloppy kiss, keening when a large leg is pushing up against him. “F-fuck, shouldn’t we go to the bed?”
The freak damn near growls in his ear, and it does something to his stomach that makes him dizzy.
“I’ve been waiting for this all day, Till,” he grumbles, placing large hands on the backs of his thighs and hoisting him up. Till recalls that he may or may not have sent a couple suggestive selfies to him right before his game to work him up. Maybe.
From this angle, the tent in Ivan’s pants is pressing right up against him, the only obtrusion being their pants. It's going to be embarrassing when Ivan finally sees him and he's soaked, but something about the glint in his eye tells Till he already knows. He curses and holds on tightly when the hands supporting him pull away to pop open his fly. Ivan tugs his pants down just enough to slide two of his fingers beneath the denim, pressing right up against the soaked cloth of his panties and dragging back and then forward again, much like he'd been doing in the car. This is so much worse, though, makes Till squeeze his eyes shut and bite his lip, barely able to contain pathetic sounds he doesn't want inflating Ivan's ego.
“You're wearing what I bought you,” Ivan purrs sickeningly close to his ear. His fingers moving to fiddle with the very possibly ruined lacey panties. Till flushes, huffing softly.
“It's your day,” he grumbles out, ducking his head into the crook of Ivan's neck. He hears an annoying chuckle above him, but before he can say something snappy Ivan is pulling his underwear to the side and sliding thick fingers between his folds. Till mewls in an utterly humiliating way when he presses them up against his hole, not actually pushing inside yet, and Till kicks him half-heartedly. Ivan snorts.
“Careful baby, you might fall.”
His taunting is at its worst when Till is helpless like this, each time words crest at his tongue they're shoved out of his mind with a brush to his clit, and damn it, he's panting like a dog at this point.
“Ivan,” he hisses. He is not willing to beg, absolutely not. Ivan knows this—Till never begs unless he’s “thoroughly broken down”. Ivan's words, not his.
Ivan giggles, spreading the labia open and smearing some of the slick there around. He finally gives in when Till bites his shoulder as hard as he physically can, wincing a little and pushing Till harder into the wall. He gives little preamble before slowly pushing a finger into the warm canal of his pussy.
The sound Till makes isn't one he would admit to. He's always hated how loud he is when they do this, but it's not his fucking fault when Ivan's fingers and dick are both big and reach all the right places, and he has that freak obsessiveness over every reaction Till makes, which makes it painfully difficult to hide what he likes.
“Iv-van, fuck, more.” It’s an order, or at least it’s supposed to be, but it comes out more pleading than authoritative.
The jock delivers, and Till cries out as two more fingers breach him. Ivan’s thumb presses down on his engorged clit and his nails dig into Ivan’s shirt. He bites down on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle his moans, only kind of effective.
He yelps when all three fingers curl up, pressing deliciously into his walls; he won’t last long at this rate. The thumb against Till’s clit moves in careful circles, and it’s just so fucking good. Ivan is so fucking good.
“M’close,” Till keens softly into the flesh of Ivan’s neck. He only picks up speed in response, and Till is choking on whines, body stiffening. Hot pleasure curls in his gut, and after just a few more moments, he gushes around Ivan’s fingers, a drawn-out moan ripping from his throat.
“So perfect,” he hears Ivan mutter, looking down at his fingers drenched in Till’s fluid, still languidly rubbing against his clit until he’s twitching and shaking.
“Bastard.”
Ivan chuckles again.
“So, how about that bed now?” He asks smugly, a dumb grin on his face. Till rolls his eyes and yelps when he’s suddenly properly picked up princess-carry style and taken to the bedroom. He’s tossed onto the bed, and Ivan is on him in an instant, pressing their lips together and ripping his pants and underwear all the way off. His tongue licks against Till’s before he pulls away, shoving Till’s shirt up, and he glances down. The touch becomes more gentle as it trails up to his binder, a finger dipping under the fabric,
“May I?” Ivan asks, and it’s genuine. He never pushes too far when it comes to that. Till smiles despite himself, giving an affirming nod.
“It’s fine.”
As soon as the reassurance is given, the fabric is unceremoniously pulled from his body, and he becomes acutely aware of how naked he is and how clothed Ivan is. Unacceptable, really. “Off,” he commands, tugging at Ivan’s shirt. The jock gives him a lopsided grin, sitting back and pulling his shirt off to reveal sculpted muscles. Ivan is just right, he doesn’t have those massive muscles that kind of hurt to look at, but he isn’t small either. Till takes great pleasure in dragging his hands along the flesh and squeezing at it.
Ivan watches for a moment, both amused and endeared, but then he grabs Till’s wrists and pins them above his head, eyes glinting at the pout he gets for it. His other hand parts Till’s legs as he crawls between them, and then moves to pull down his own pants and underwear. His cock twitches at the cold air. He moves his head down to lick at the crook in Till’s neck, leaving wet kisses along his flesh and sliding his length between puffy, soaked folds. Ivan visibly revels in every little whine he gets out of Till, unable to stop grinning against his skin even as he bites down on it.
Till keens as Ivan ruts against him. He always seems to love teasing him without giving him what he needs, greedy and agitating.
“Ivan, I swear to–” He isn’t able to finish his sentence. The words are punched out of his mind when Ivan spears him on his dick in one move. The stretch is obscene, and the downright pornographic moan Till lets out is worse.
“Fff-fuck, fuck, fuck!” Is all Till can manage, Ivan grunting with each harsh pistoning of his hips. It’s so fucking good, he didn’t even give him time to adjust. Till likes it that way, and he knows it. His body is smaller than Ivan’s, and it slides up and down against the blankets with every thrust, which Ivan greedily uses to his advantage. Plunging his cock deeper and deeper with the recoil assisting him, he always reaches places Till didn’t know he had.
Ivan pants in his ear, a squelching sound from his own precum mixing with Till’s slick filling the room. He feels like he can’t breathe. Ivan presses his thumb against his clit again and he’s crying out, clamping down around him like a vice, but Ivan continues to pump in and out of him relentlessly.
Till bites down on his own shirt, smearing the drool around his mouth.
“So pretty, you feel so good,” Ivan murmurs, voice breathy and strained. A hand moves to squeeze Till’s tit, and then to play with the nipple. His mouth latches onto the smaller boy’s neck to suck and bite marks into the flesh.
Till yelps when Ivan suddenly shifts, hands firmly grasping his legs and hoisting them over his shoulders, practically bending him in half. When his movements resume, it’s deeper, better, presses up against spongy flesh perfectly. A slapping sound accompanies their movements now, and Till can barely hear his babbling over his own moans.
“Till, hah, you—you’re squeezing me so tight I, fuck.” The words somehow make it worse, and shortly after comes a rain of incessant praise that has Till squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to cum again already.
“Ivan! I-I, I can’t, I’m,” he pants, limbs feeling as if they’re seizing up under the waves of white-hot pleasure.
“Go on, baby, it’s okay. Cum for me,” Ivan whines into his ear, and that’s what does him in. Till’s back arches up against Ivan’s chest, whole body spasming, and he can feel the fucking squirt that sprays onto his lover. It’s filthy, and Ivan looks overjoyed.
“Squeezing so tight, Till,” he whines, thrusting in and out a couple more times before pulling out. Till damn near cries about the empty feeling, pussy clenching around nothing, but he doesn’t have to mourn the loss for long. Ivan grabs him and flips him over, pulling his ass up and slamming back inside. The fucking freak doesn’t even need a break yet, go figure.
Till holds onto the pillow beneath him for dear life, teeth clamping down on the fabric. It feels like the jock is in his goddamned stomach.
“Ha-ah! Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, ha, mnh, please—fuck!”
“Shh, s’okay, nh, I’ve got you,” he mutters, licking a stripe up Till’s neck. His arms are firmly wrapped around Till’s waist, and he’s hammering into him like an animal. All he can do is take it.
By the time a third orgasm is ripped out of him, Till’s brain feels like it’s shutting down. Ivan still doesn’t stop—won’t, unless Till tells him to, and it hurts but it’s so fucking good. Tears prick his eyes and snot and saliva drip from his nose and mouth, it’s disgusting, and yet he can’t find it in himself to be disturbed, not when his vision is whiting out and his whole body is tingling with shocks and tremors of delicious heat. He could die like this and be happy, he thinks.
Ivan doesn’t last long after that, only drilling into him for a couple more minutes before another spasm hits Till and it squeezes his dick just right, and he’s spilling into the warm hole with a choked groan.
He stays there for a few more moments, holding onto Till, still buried inside of him. The body beneath him shudders and then goes limp when he finally pulls out. Their mixed fluids drip out of him tantalizingly, and Ivan swipes his tongue over his teeth, shaking his tiredness off.
“What the fuck?!” Till screeches when his legs are pried open again. He doesn’t think his body can handle more.
But then Ivan leans down and licks a long stripe up the flesh of his pussy and he’s grabbing onto his hair, moaning at the soft sensation after all of the rough treatment.
“Y-you’re, ah, disgu-usting,” he hisses when Ivan eagerly licks up the mess like a well-trained dog. His tongue plunges in and out of his hole, and Till whimpers quietly into his hand, tugging hard on the jock’s hair. Ivan is unperturbed, and when he finishes cleaning the cum and slick out of him he shifts to wrap his lips around Till’s clit. It’s big enough thanks to bottom growth that Ivan can actually put it in his mouth. Somehow, Ivan’s now gentle treatment makes him feel just as wrecked, and he cums again with a cry before long. It’s less Earth-shattering, but it still makes his toes curl and back arch, and then he finally falls boneless.
Ivan chuckles, crawling back up to meet Till’s gaze. He gently brushes some hair out of his face and presses a kiss to his forehead. Till is passed out in an instant, and it makes Ivan smile. Even if their methods were a bit unorthodox he takes great pride in kicking his lover’s insomnia to the curb.
He stands and heads to the kitchen, downing a couple glasses of water and then filling another to bring back to the bedroom. Till will want it when he wakes up, he’s certain, so he leaves it on the nightstand by his side of the bed and pulls him closer. Nuzzling against Till’s cheek, he smiles, a warmth swelling in his chest. Ivan is a very lucky man, and he could lie next to this boy forever. Forever is somewhat inconceivable at age twenty, though, so for now he’ll just settle for getting to hold him tonight.