Chapter Text
Ivan has always been the "perfect student" type. Even outside of school, Till remembers him being that perfect friend his mother used to see a lot at home, during their high school years. How did they even become friends in the first place ?
Uh.
That was pretty simple, actually.
Till was always that "emo freak loner" guy who drew doodles in sketchbooks. For popular teenagers, it was an easy prey, if your name is "asshole-who-never-got-anything-interesting-in-his-life".
He remembers being pushed into the lockers, having his drawings torn apart in the hallways, slurs spit out of braced mouths...Yeah, typical day. He didn't want to bother his mom with all of this, she already had enough with being a single parent. Who even cares, right ?
Well, that tall dark hair guy who seemed to be one of the popular ones... The one dude who just- threw himself out there, just in between Till and his bullies.
He didn't see much. He just knew that he had some influence because one intervention calmed down all of the little rats that were there.
But before he could discretely sneak out to not have more attention than he already had, the boy turned around immediately– Okay, not bad, actually. In one second, he saw a face that he could sketch by pure wish and by pure fascination for someone like that.
The boy kneeled and offered him his hand, "You okay ?"
"Uh...I'm alright...thanks..."
Till tried to get up alone without the help of that student who probably was like, playing a trick on him with the fake mister nice guy or thought that it would be funny to talk to the "emo freak". Also, he had a little bit of dignity left...
But the ache in his ribs from a hard punch earlier made him wince
"Ah, shit..."
"Do you need–"
"I SAID I'M FINE !"
Ah...crap, he didn't mean to scream like that...ouch, it hurt like hell though...
He glanced at the hand of the stranger still offered to him and finally accepted it with a sigh.
On the walk to the infirmary, Till, resigned that he was going to have to deal with the hero of his day for some time, turned to him and tried in a whisper:
"So, uh...what's your name ?"
—
"IVAAAAAAN !"
That was it. That was unbearably annoying.
Four hours. Four fucking hours that he was on the same page over and over again, missing each line like if he was cursed. It was some stupid art project that he had to do for his next class. Goddammit, why was it so hard ???!
Ivan was peacefully humming in the kitchen, little flowers pots on the wood shelves and on the edges of the windows. Small light bulbs tied to a thread spread some yellow in the room ( some little lights that twinkled like stars, the cheap kind they’d strung up in December and never took down because Ivan said they made his “soul feel fizzy”), and the scent of fresh basil and melting cheese wrap around them like a promise. On the kitchen island lay a bowl of fruits and the wooden tools in the basket near him were waiting to be used. Ivan had a rather chill shoot today. It wasn’t anything short or too easy, but it was manageable. He even get to come home early and decided to take care of the wet cat (the other one) inside. He had just got the pizzas out of the oven, all warm and ready to be eaten.
His boyfriend was groaning and pacing in the living room, muttering curses to his stubborn canvas. His sketchbook lay abandoned on the floor, pages torn from a battle he wasn't winning.
"I CAN'T DRAW !!!" he hissed, screaming into a pillow with little control of his rage. Ivan had seen this storm before. He had seen a lot since they were together. He loved seeing him like this, in a way...that was the real Till. The creative Till that he got to have for himself and fuck anyone who tried to take a look at his art without consent. And oh, the way his green eyes darken when creativity slips off his fingers like smoke...but he knew that they could also be as bright as emeralds, sparkling like stars when he got a good idea. And that, was the best thing in the world. Those assholes back then didn't even see the treasure that they tried to bury without even looking at what was beyond it. Ivan saw it at the very beginning and never decided to let go once he had the chance to witness Till’s creativity and personality in the front row.
Fools...his boyfriend is the hottest young artist the world has even known, and at his (small) concerts ??? Oh, Ivan is FERAL(ly supportive). Till usually makes a few songs to try and combine his passions and make himself a bit of money along with his art projects.
Anyways, so Till was in that state again and that's when the raven's warm presence was much needed. He coughed and once the silver haired man turned his head towards his boyfriend, his brows furrowing in focus and rage, Ivan MELTED.
"Hey, my artist. I cooked pizzas !" He said, offering the plates like if it was a peace offering.
Till’s lips suddenly twitched into a aoft smile, like the sun through the dark clouds, "You're a life saver."
The living room was a beautiful mess. There were a mix a canvases against every wall, paintbrushes on sofas and tables, and a half-finished song scribbled on a notepad beside an electric guitar. Their black cat, Miss Milly, was stretched lazily on the couch, bathing on the mess that was so them.
Ivan smiled at the sight and set the plate down, just on top a few messy drawings, before flopping on the floor beside his boyfriend. "Tell me about this masterpiece you're fighting," he teased, brushing a stray lock of grey hair behind Till’s ear.
Till sighed and leaned against the couch behind him, "It’s just...I'm just stuck, you know ? I-I'm even wondering if I really should continue art..."
Ivan shook his head, eyes shining with quiet conviction, "No way. You're the most talented artist I know !"
"Ivan, you only know me."
"I- Who cares ??! Even back then I thought that you were incredible ! And the most stubborn, too...but hey, it's the important, right? That's unique, Till. And it's refreshing to see someone expressing themselves for real in their art. And, well, even when you're mad at the world you make it look good."
They looked at each other a moment before bursting out laughing. "What ?~ It's true !" protested Ivan.
"Babe, I just find funny that you're defending my art skills like if it was a war to win."
Ivan pouted a little, "But it's true..."
He looked down at the plate on their table and reached to pull out a cheesy slice, holding it like a trophy. "Pizza and boyfriend's presence as a therapy against frustration. It's your prescription for the day !"
Till reached for the slice, "You really don't give up on me, huh ?"
Ivan smiled, his voice soft but sure. "Always. We're in this together, honey."
The kitchen glowed like a little world of its own. The air still smelled faintly of melted cheese and roasted garlic, clinging to the wooden cabinets and fogging the windows just slightly.
Somewhere beneath the hum of the fridge and the faint pattering of rain against the glass, Ivan’s voice drifted through the air, low and warm, humming a melody Till had written last spring, fingers dipping into warm, soapy water as he rinsed the last plate from their dinner.
He was wearing one of Till’s old shirts. It was just his size on him – faded black, a punk band name in the middle, the collar stretched a bit, sleeves rolled up to his elbows – and it hung still just low enough over his hips to be unfair. His hair was slightly dishelved, starting to curl a little from the heat of the kitchen. It was more natural and so much more him. His onyx eyes glimmered even though he was focused entirely on the dishes.
Till leaned on the doorframe for a moment, just watching. He should’ve been tired – the day had been long, and his brain still prickled from that earlier art block meltdown – but Ivan’s humming filled something in him. He still couldn’t believe this was his life. That this man was his after what he's been through in high school.
He padded over silently in socks, wrapped his arms around Ivan from behind, and pressed his cheek to his back. "You’re such a housewife."
Ivan laughed. "And you’re welcome for the pizza, sir."
"I did say thank you." Till’s hands slid down Ivan’s waist. "Very thoroughly."
"Mhm." Ivan turned off the faucet, flicking his fingers dry into the sink. "But I feel like your tone lacked a certain… appreciative reverence."
"You want reverence?"
Ivan turned, his eyes dark and twinkling, soap clinging to the edge of his wrist. "I want a kiss."
So Till gave him one – slow, right on the lips, the kind that pressed and lingered and smiled halfway through. Then another, softer, just below the corner of Ivan’s mouth.
"Greedy," he whispered.
Ivan leaned forward, brushing their noses together. "You love it."
"I do."
Another kiss – deeper now, hungrier. Ivan gripped Till’s shirt, fingers curling. The faint sound of the dripping faucet blurred into the beat of their breath, the rustle of fabric, Till’s soft hum against Ivan’s mouth as he tugged him just a little closer.
"Your hands are still wet," Till murmured, smirking.
Ivan pulled back with a wicked grin. "Guess you’ll have to help me take this off, then."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhmh~"
They giggled into each other’s mouths, dizzy in the best way, teeth knocking slightly in the rush to keep kissing. Till’s fingers found the hem of the old T-shirt, lifting it just a bit as Ivan tilted his head, lips brushing over his jaw, just barely whispering:
"Bed?"
"Lead the way," Till breathed, eyes blown wide, voice already thick.
Their cat meowed once – unimpressed, frankly – before curling deeper into his blanket nest as the two men stumbled down the hallway in a tangle of laughter, kisses, and soap-slicked fingers.
The door clicked shut behind them with a quiet thunk.
Ivan turned around slowly, grinning, walking backward toward the bed with that kind of lit-up, breathless look Till would never get over. His lips were kiss-bruised, eyes half-lidded, the hem of that shirt still caught between Till’s fingers. His boyfriend was literally being dragged because he had two fingers hooked at his shirt.
"I thought you were gonna help me take this off," Ivan whispered, mock-scandalized.
Till raised a brow, letting the silence hang for a beat before tugging the fabric up with a smirk – slow and deliberate, letting his hands roam over warm skin, revealing the soft curve of Ivan’s stomach, the trail of muscle, the places he knew by heart, that way of hair that lead to Ivan’s garden of treasures. "Sorry," he said, "got distracted by the view."
Ivan laughed – that soft, delighted laugh that made Till want to worship him on the spot. "Flatterer."
"Truth-teller." The shirt hit the floor, and Till ran his hands up Ivan’s chest, thumbs circling over his nipples softly, squeezing the flesh like an artist fascinated by the anatomy of a real life angel he took as a muse. He gently pushed him down onto the mattress like he already belonged there and moved to be enough above him to have a full view. "You’re so fucking pretty it actually makes my hands stupid."
Oh, pretty was an understatement. Ivan was ethereal. He had those black hair that passed through his fingers like the space made silk. It was so soft to touch...and when he had them natural, curly and a bit heavier, it was even fluffier. Like storm clouds put in pillows. His eyebrows were thick and added a canine look on his face. Till doesn't know why but it was giving big dog...
Ivan reached up, pulling Till down by the collar with a teasing smirk. "Then use them. Stupid or not."
He nodded, because how can you not give everything to the one who would give you his entire heart ? So, with hunger mixed with adoration, he leaned to press his lips against Ivan's mouth, not even bothered by his snaggle tooth that was peaking. It was the cutest thing Till ever saw when he saw Ivan for the first time and now it just added to his charm. His boyfriend was so handsome...and him was a shrimp. But that's alright. Because he was a cute shrimp. That's what his mother always said. Her cute kind little grey shrimp.
In their bed time, consent wasn’t a question between them anymore – it was a living rhythm. Every touch was asked for in a glance, a sigh, the way Ivan’s legs spread when Till moved over him, the way Till paused, eyes always searching Ivan’s face for yes?, and Ivan answered with, God, yes.
When Ivan was leading, it was the same. It never mattered who was doing what, words were always here and it was never a shame to ask.
Consent is key.
Their kisses turned deeper. Messier. Tongues were dancing a tango, then playing tag, then cuddling with each other... They broke to breathe and immediately started giggling, foreheads pressed together. Only a few minutes in, and they already felt how hard they were under their clothes.
"I missed this," Ivan murmured, voice thick with want. "Missed you, like this."
"We literally kissed in the kitchen like five minutes ago."
"I know." Ivan’s laugh faded into something more real, more molten. His hand went down between Till's legs, palming his boyfriend through his pants. "But this… when you look at me like I’m… everything...It still feels new. I love it so much. I-"
Till kissed him again to shut him up, breath heavy from the contact. This time, he kissed him slow, like a promise.
"Because it still is," he whispered against his lips. "Every damn time."
Their clothes peeled off in pieces, between kisses and compliments and mock complaints about buttons. Ivan ran his fingers through Till’s hair, admiring him fully too.
His grey hair that were like the moon on a winter's night, lighting the dark sky that was Ivan's life. His thin eyebrows reflected so great his feelings and were such perfect lines to follow with his fingers.
He guided him, sighing every time he mouthed down his chest, kissing loudly the skin and making little noises each time.
And the sounds – they didn’t hold back. Till loved hearing Ivan. The little gasps, the breathy swears, the way his deep voice pitched when something felt good – he wanted all of it. He wanted to earn every sound that Ivan was making. He was letting go of that mask, letting himself be vulnerable in front of Till and he felt privileged to be the one having such a pearl in his hands. Till was never a man we could call "strong" or "manly" if we looked into stereotypes. He always assumed at first that he was going to be the one to bottom in the relationship, and honestly, it was kinda embarrassing since he didn't even know how all of that worked. It seemed a bit scary too... But Ivan decided that no. That he was going to be the one to let go just because he loved Till. He loved him so much that he wanted to offer himself to Till in all shapes and colors. As long as it was with him, he could do anything. And the other man loved it. It was so special to him that for once, his twink form wasn't seen as something too feminine or too stereotypical. His boyfriend was strong, a bit more muscular, taller in height...and him too was expected to be the "one to wear the pants" in the relationship. To act, to do things, to lead. It's what Ivan did his whole life, so...when he finally felt comfortable with Till, he never felt more relieved to just...be himself and let himself be taken care of, loved, not in control, and knowing that arms were there to hold him. And Till was the kind of person to love seeing the one they cared for having fun, being pleased, feeling good, thanks to him. He could get off only by the sight of the other smiling in delight. Having Ivan made him even more confident with his personality, his appearance and his style. He didn't have to be "manly enough" to be considered a partner, he didn't care if he was called a twink because if that's what he was, he was damn sexy, he didn't thought about being too feminine with his hobbies or his looks because he had a boyfriend who helped him do his eyeliner every morning and let him kiss his chest with lipstick. So, that was actually always some good sex this way for them, even though switching wasn't something that was pushed aside. Nah, in an equal relationship, even with preferences, switching is something that gives each other an idea on how the other feels and how to do even better if possible. And even if Till bottomed, the most important thing was to give love, no matter what. The goal was to make him understand that he was loved just as much (if not more) than he loved Till.
And right now, Till was having the time of his life on learning how to make Ivan sing even more than he already was.
"You’re so loud tonight," he murmured, voice smug, already reaching to take Ivan's length in hand and stroking it a bit.
Ivan bit his lip, a moan slipping out, then smirked. "Don’t pretend you don’t like it."
"Oh, I love it," Till whispered, licking a stripe up his stomach. He kissed down slowly the skin there, smooching sounds echoing in the room. Once he arrived at the top of Ivan's happy trail, he dragged his tongue all over that way to heaven, "You’re my favorite instrument. Even my electric guitar comes second."
Ivan melted, covering his face with both hands as he giggled. "That was so lame. I love you."
"I know," Till said, grinning as he kissed along his thighs with small kisses. "I’m charming. Hold still."
And damn Ivan was. Because that's something to have your boyfriend's head between your thighs and so focused that you feel yourself just…twitch in interest and clench in anticipation.
He is so hot.
They took their time – no rush, no fear, just them. Till’s touch was everywhere, patient, playful, and reverent. He passed his fingers on his chest, massaging the flesh here, passed his fingers lightly on his back that gave tingles to Ivan, stroked his hips, leaned to pepper slow kisses again on his belly, occasionally brushing his fingers against his lover's intimate places... Ivan arched into it, shameless and wanting, moaning openly, whispering things like "here, that’s perfect" and "don’t stop, please" and "I love you so much," until his voice cracked with need.
They always prepared each other before doing anything. Ivan preferred doing it alone but his boyfriend was always one to make sure he was really ready enough to not hurt him. It was gentle. With two fingers or three, he waited with focused brows and eyes fixed on Ivan's face to be sure that he was okay. When he nodded and explicitly proved his agreement by a little clench and an eager "yes", that's when he knew.
Till had to take himself in hand, find the lube on the nightstand and pour some on his fingers to massage himself a bit with it.
And when Till finally slid into him, they locked eyes, both of them trembling just a little – from emotion, not stress.
"You okay?" Till asked softly, already brushing his knuckles over Ivan’s cheek.
Ivan nodded. "I love you. Don’t stop looking at me, please."
"I won’t."
When Till progressively made his way in, he made sure Ivan wasn't feeling too much pain, going as slow as needed. Once all in, both let out a sigh of pleasure-relief. Finally connected. They waited a little before moving together like a song only they knew. Till gave gentle thrusts that matched his need for Ivan and his boyfriend's comfort. The creak of the mattress filled the room in a sound of love, Till’s praises spilling out like lyrics:
"You’re so good, Ivan...So pretty... Look at you, letting go for me like that. Fuck, Ivan…so tight for me, baby…”
He opened up Ivan's thighs a bit more to have full access and a plain sight of his lover. And oh, Ivan was a vision. His pale skin was now covered in a warm color who tainted his chest, his shoulders and his face. His waist was always the prey of tingles when Till passed his hands on it. The giggles were everything...The thighs that he had now in his hands were plush and if it was possible, he would have lived here. He loved diving his head between them to hear the bells of Ivan's laugh and to taste the wine of his moans that he drank directly from where he was. Between them, his lover's excitement was explicitly showing his love for Till by little twitches. Where they were connected, he could see himself being hugged each thrust by a pretty pink ring, clenching around him as if to say “thank you”. His boyfriend's face was a painting. The red pupils of his black eyes were blown almost in little hearts. His eyebrows were frowned in pleasure and his lips were parted like a door opened for moans. Ivan was even drooling a bit at the corner of his mouth.
Till smiled, in that loving one that he had when Ivan was letting his guard down, and reached to wipe the drool from his lips. He leaned and began to pepper kisses across his warm cheeks. "Baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I've got you, little heart...are you okay ? Do you want to hold my hand ?"
Ivan smiled and nodded in that eager childlike way before holding the hand offered to him, legs around the other's waist, whispering back with a smile even through his moans: "I know. I trust you. Oh, Till– I love you...I love you so much..."
Till leaned to kiss his forehead and pressed his against it, remaining a gentle pace while asking what Ivan wanted, "Does it feel good here ? Or here ? Do you want me to reach for a specific place ?"
Ivan replied with an arch and a tighter grip of his hand. "It's perfect...hah...Till, it's perfect like this...you're perfect, baby...wait– a bit higher-- YES like that...oh you're magic..."
Till chuckled while following Ivan's wishes and picked up the pace with a nuzzle in his neck. The raven giggled and with his free hand, he began stroking the ashen hair, "Till, it tingles !~"
"Oh yeah? Then let me stay a bit longer so that I can hear the angels again."
Ivan laughed and put a hand on his face, "You're being cheesier than me ! Stop that !"
Till immediately yanked his arm out. "Oh, just stating facts. You sound like an angel, sweetiepie."
His free hand managed to slowly make his way down between Ivan's legs and – after a long look of asking for consent – he started stroking him along with his thrusts. Each sound from Ivan was pure joy. Their breaths were heavier, Till’s hips stuttered, Ivan's thighs trembled even more in anticipation…
His Till was amazing. Even through tears of pleasure, Ivan could see how good he looked.
Green eyes digging in him, eyebrows focused on his face, hair falling on his forehead…he looked like a fantasy. His laps parted in groans and whimpers of pleasure, and the muscles of his arms who were manhandling his thighs were flexing with the effort.
He was so caught in the intimacy of the moment.
They locked eyes again and the silver muttered, "Ivan...I'm close...are you gonna finish too ?"
Ivan nodded with eyes glassy and hands gripping even harder. "Yesyesyes--Till, I...fuck, Till, I--"
His boyfriend immediately asked, "Uh, where do I...? Is it okay if I do it inside ?"
A nod from Ivan. And that was it.
They finished tangled in each other, breathless and glowing. Till held Ivan close, rubbing circles into his back as Ivan hid his face in Till’s neck, moaning softly in the levitating feeling.
Till immediately leaned to kiss Ivan's forehead once he was done to keep him away from disgusting thoughts after sex, and started whispering praises in his ear, like "You were so beautiful, my Ivan", "you made me feel really really good, that was awesome..." or "I'm so happy to have you, you know ? I could hear heaven from your mouth all day."
After that, Till pulled out very slowly and picked up the cold towels he kept near when they were doing it and passed them on his body. He cleaned him up and once he was done, Ivan whispered sleepily, "Still loud?"
"Perfectly loud," Till said, kissing the top of his head. "My favorite sound."
Ivan smiled and curled against his boyfriend. "Was that good for you too ?"
Till shook his head with a laugh, "Iv', that was amazing, you hear me ? By the way, since we didn't get dessert and that I kinda feel like you want–”
"No, that's okay, what are you–”
"Strawberry shortcake."
"Yes."
"Alright."
Till kissed the top of Ivan's head and gently get out of the bed to go to the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with a small plate: the ENTIRE rest of the cake that Ivan bought two days ago, two small plates with homemade painted little flowers on it (by Till), two spoon, a bottle of water and two glasses.
He lay next to Ivan in the bed and the two of them started eating the sweets, not really thinking about washing their teeth after, too tired to do anything else. Once they were done, they pulled the rest aside and the two men finally wrapped the blanket over them.
Facing each other in the dark of their bedroom, the couple started dozing off into sleep. In the last seconds before closing his eyes, Ivan murmured against his boyfriend's chest, "I love you, Till."
Till smiled. He kissed Ivan's forehead one last time, answering with what strenght he had left. "I love you too, Ivan."