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Ivan is, objectively, a little bit stupid.
Okay, maybe plenty stupid, but in his defense, he’s far too acquainted with making terrible life choices that he can no longer gauge the gravity of his horrific decision-making skills. But this…
Slim fingers curling around milky, plush thighs parted for him to slot between, the feeling of a lithe body twitching and trembling underneath him, soft moans bouncing off the metal walls of his trailer, pale blonde hair splayed in a halo on his couch, ruddy cheeks and hitched breaths and big, big eyes silently pleading for more, harder-
Ivan shivers, one knee digging into the cushion of his couch, his other leg supporting his weight on the ground, hips snapping back and forth at a pace that has his palms sweating where they’re pressed against the back of Luka’s thighs.
Luka is panting, barely making any noise other than the occasional quiet moan, but Ivan can feel how much he likes this.
Fingers twist into the edge of the couch, brows knitting together. That normally blank face slightly pinched, spit-slick lips parted around every ragged breath, inner thighs absolutely fucking soaked— and this is the most emotion Ivan’s ever seen on him, and it’s. God.
There’s something so dangerous about the way Luka is staring up at him like he wants Ivan to ruin him for anyone else, and there’s an endless pit in Ivan’s stomach that wants to swallow him whole.
Yeah, this takes the cake. This has to be one of the worst decisions he’s ever made in his entire career. Maybe even his entire life.
Sleeping with his co-star at an after-work party, what, ‘cause he’s pent-up over a song he wrote for some childhood crush that never worked out? He’s sunken to the lowest of lows, it’s totally over for him.
But it’s okay, because this is a one time thing. Luka doesn’t care and neither does he. What this is, is a moment of weakness and a sad attempt to cope on Ivan’s end, and Luka is just indulging him ‘cause they’re both drunk, and alcohol just- makes people do things they normally wouldn’t.
It means nothing, and it will never happen again.
…
…Except it does happen again.
They’re in Ivan’s trailer again, because where else would they be during a two-hour long break? Typically, Ivan would pester Sua or get a nice, warm meal after being on set, but hearing Till’s incessant fussing over Mizi today as they finished up a few scenes on round five had him a little more upset than he’d care to admit.
He knows Mizi doesn’t like him that way, she wouldn’t be dating his sister otherwise, but Ivan is only human, and he can’t help the ugly feeling that churns deep in his gut whenever he sees the obvious shift in Till’s demeanor at the mere mention of her.
So when he met Luka’s gaze through the mirrors of their shared dressing room that afternoon, with those sleepy eyes and a brow cocked up, Ivan found that wallowing in self-pity didn’t have to be an option.
Not right now, at least.
This is the one time Ivan doesn’t have to think of Till, the one time he can look into someone’s eyes and find that they’re looking right back at him—and they’re looking back at him like they want him.
They’re grinding on each other on top of his stupid couch, hands fumbling to undo the other person’s clothing, until they’re reduced to nothing but naked, sweaty bodies slotting perfectly together.
“I’m not gonna break,” Luka breathes into his open mouth, lips barely touching as Luka rocks fast and hard in his lap, jostled around as he loops his arms around Ivan’s shoulders.
“Harder,” He practically begs, as if they already aren’t rattling the entire couch with how forceful Ivan is bouncing him on his lap.
He feels good like this, too-hot against and around Ivan’s body, like a human furnace of some sort, bouncing on his cock with the desperation of a dying man as the other watches him through hooded eyes and thick lashes.
Ivan’s gripping his hips so hard, leaving more bruises over the fading marks he’d left just a week ago—and that’s another thing, Luka bruises so easily and Ivan can’t help himself—fucking up into his hole at a punishing pace, just how they both like it, but especially Luka.
(The first time they’d done it, Ivan had turned a pale at the sight of blood dripping out of the other man when he pulled out, but Luka simply stared, pupils dilated as he reached down with his fingers and smeared the blood all over his pussy, and if that wasn’t a fucked up sight—
“Sorry,” Ivan apologized, tense and nervous, sobering when he registered the redness staining his gray couch. “I didn’t mean to go so hard.”
“It’s fine. I liked it,” Luka tells him, out of breath, head lolling sideways against his shoulder as he uses two blood-soaked fingers to rub at his clit, chest heaving slowly as he begins working himself again. “I like that it hurt,” He breathed.
That had probably done something irreversible to Ivan, he thought, as his cock began hardening again.)
Luka moans, quiet and sweet as he tucks his face between Ivan’s neck and shoulder, teeth grazing his skin, threatening to bite down, and it sends the hairs on Ivan’s body on edge as his hips abruptly stutter in their movement.
“We have 5 more minutes before we go back on set,” Luka reminds him, soft and airy and fuck, Ivan doesn’t know how he’s able to talk like that when Ivan’s filling him up so good, or when Ivan has a thumb circling his thoroughly abused clit, or when the couch is literally hitting the metal walls of the vehicle with every upward thrust. Ivan groans when he feels Luka clench down on him, wetness dripping onto his pantsuit and, oh Jesus, his manager is gonna be so pissed at him.
“I know,” The response is strained in his throat as he forces himself to pick up the pace, drawing a punched-out gasp from Luka as he simultaneously jolts.
“Then make me come,” He demands, rocking his hips to Ivan’s rhythm, body soft and pliant against him.
Ivan does just that, and when Luka bites down on his shoulder and pierces the flesh with his teeth, he feels himself tipping over the edge at the same time he barely manages to pull out.
Okay. That was the last time.
And Ivan meant it.
But that’s what he said the next time it happened, then when it happened again, and again, and again.
And then, Luka is moaning underneath him, ass up, face down, knees planted on Ivan’s bed and- God, when did they get here? Ivan can’t remember, the liquor he had so carelessly consumed during the afterparty post-round five sinking into his system, along with the embarrassing amount of self-hatred and longing when he watched a tipsy, overly nervous Till sitting flushed between Mizi and Sua, and Mizi’s got a hand on his arm and why can’t he ever bring himself to be that close to Ivan, too—
“Ah,” Luka moans and effectively breaks him out of that self-deprecating train of thought, the sound abrupt and pained as he feels Ivan’s fingers digging harshly into the meat of his bruised waist. His arms are tucked underneath him against his chest and his curls are spread against the pillow, hiding his face, although Ivan can see how his left cheek is pressed against the soft cushion, face tinged with redness, eyes unfocused, hazy.
There are dark purple marks in the shape of his mouth on top of old ones blooming along Luka’s back. Ivan had left them there when he had clumsily made his way down his senior’s body, and it’s a stark contrast to his paper-white skin.
He’s flushed down to his chest, the color spreading to the back of his neck and his ears. He’s shaking a little, too—he always is, whenever they do this—and Ivan would’ve felt guilty, if not for the fact that Luka looked so pretty on the verge of ruin.
Pretty, the world suddenly makes itself known to Ivan. Luka is so fucking pretty like this.
“Ivan,” Luka grits, but it falls flat as he tries to muffle another moan. Only then does Ivan realize that he had said that out loud.
“It’s true,” Ivan mumbles, words slurring together, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between soft, pink folds, fingers wrapped comfortably around Luka’s thin waist.
Fuck. Has he always been this tiny?
“You’re so pretty like this,” He says again, honest and painfully drunk. Luka must be tipsy too, because he lets out a pitiful little noise at that, barely audible unless you pay close attention to him. And Ivan finds that he can barely take his eyes off him.
And- no, yeah, Luka is out of it. He’s noisier than usual. Needier. Not that Ivan is complaining.
He leans down, covering Luka’s body with his own, thrusts sloppy, the steady in-and-out motion of his cock in that warm, tight cunt intoxicating as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to Luka’s shoulder.
“So good,” He exhales shakily, and he hears his senior—honest to God—whine this time, shuddering into pristine white sheets as Ivan leaves filthy kisses down his cheek to the nape of his neck. The sound fuels the heat in Ivan’s stomach, flames licking at his skin, far too hot to contain beneath his flesh as he laps at a bruise he had left on Luka’s shoulder not too long ago.
He leans back, then bears down on the other man’s pussy harder, slamming into him without any regard for the state of his body, until Luka is hugging the pillow cushioning his head, back arching into a beautiful bow, plump ass red with the force of Ivan’s merciless thrusts.
He’s getting noisier now, every smooth slide of Ivan’s cock accompanied by a soft moan and a punched-out breath, and really, it’s all one big, messy blur in Ivan’s head as he watches Luka’s entire frame seize up in blinding pleasure, a familiar pressure squeezing around his dick as he watches the man come undone. He feels dizzy, absolutely mesmerized as he slides a hand down the expanse of Luka’s sweaty back, feeling the way he trembles delicately under Ivan’s palm.
Luka’s so fucking wet, dripping down his thighs onto the mattress, and Ivan has to remind himself to pull out before he’s coming all over Luka’s gaping entrance, gasping as he reaches down to work himself through his orgasm, pumping his cock sloppily as he paints milky skin with ropes of white.
And Luka just lays there, breathing heavily as he shifts his head to bury it into the pillow, swaying slightly as Ivan uses his other hand to steady him by the hip.
He huffs, head hanging low, as he eyes the mess between his senior’s legs, and that’s when the absurdity of the situation sinks in. Fuck.
He has to stop using Luka like this every time he feels remotely depressed about his crumbling love life, and it’s not like Luka initiates anyway. So really, Ivan’s the problem here.
This is the last time, he thinks drunkenly as he collapses next to Luka on his bed.
This is the last ti—
“This is the last time,” Ivan grits as Luka tugs him into a supply closet, practically slamming him against the wall, his head bumping against the concrete with so much force that his vision spins.
Luka gazes up at him through hooded eyes and long, pale lashes. Pretty, pretty, pretty—
“Okay,” He agrees without any resistance, then slots his lips between Ivan’s, wet and aggressive and it’s all a mess of teeth and tongue, and it has Ivan going lightheaded as the back of his head bumps against the wall for the second time that afternoon.
He grunts into the filthy kiss, arms automatically wrapping around that slim waist, knee nudging between Luka’s thighs and pressing upward, making his senior’s hands fly up to his arms, squeezing tight. He doesn’t miss the way Luka’s breath clogs his throat, hips eagerly rocking down. Ivan groans when he feels dampness drag against the fabric of his slacks.
God. God. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I’m serious,” Ivan mutters against Luka’s lips, panting, “I don’t want to keep using you.”
“Using me? Don’t think so highly of yourself,” Luka kisses him breathlessly once more, then he takes Ivan’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard enough to pierce the sensitive flesh, ripping a hiss from Ivan’s throat when he feels Luka lapping at the wound with his tongue. And then he’s kissing Ivan again, messy and bloody and dirty.
“You must’ve forgotten, I’m getting something out of this too,” He says with finality when he pulls back, Ivan’s blood smeared on the corner of his lip, gaze hungry, pupils blown, cheeks flushed. He looks a little deranged like this, smiling lightly at Ivan as his tongue darts out to lick the remaining blood smudged on the side of his mouth.
“Fuck,” Ivan wheezes, verbalizing the only word bouncing off his head, beads of red blooming on his bruised lip. Luka smiles wider.
And then he drops to his knees, hands working Ivan’s slacks open, and Ivan forgets all about how bad of an idea this is.
‘Stop,’ was what Ivan was supposed to tell him when he felt hands curl into his bloodied, damp coat as he’s dragged into their shared dressing room, the forced kiss he had shared with Till weighing heavily in his mind and in his chest.
‘We’re not doing this right now,’ was what Ivan meant to say, until Luka had pounced on him, practically naked from the waist down, the only thing left on him being a pair of soft, cotton undies that were already damp—fuck, had he been touching himself before Ivan got off-set?—and a hoodie he’d stolen from Ivan himself, and all he was able to say instead was: ‘Jesus Christ.’
He really, really shouldn’t be surprised that Luka had been waiting for him after such a gut-wrenching scene. It’s like he knows what goes through Ivan’s head.
It’s kind of eery, how predictable he is to Luka. Kind of fucked up, too, when Ivan gives it more thought. But then again, they both are.
“You looked good like that,” Luka murmurs against his lips, nimble fingers pushing Ivan’s blood-stained coat off his shoulders as he towers over the other man on the dressing room floor, straddling his still-damp lap like he was always meant to be there.
“Like, nn, what?” Ivan breathes, hands covering the bruises fresh on Luka’s hips and thighs as he guides them in a filthy back-and-forth motion.
Luka sighs, grinding his clothed crotch against the growing tent in Ivan’s slacks, “Covered in blood.”
Ivan’s nose wrinkles, but he can’t help the groan that slips past his lips when Luka ruts harder against him again, “You’re so weird.”
“You like it,” He points out bluntly, hands fumbling to unbuckle Ivan’s belt, fake-blood coating his fingers as they come away to let Ivan help, mouth watering at the sight of his cock springing up from red-stained pants.
“Yeah, but couldn’t you wait until after I dry up a little?” Ivan gasps when Luka’s fingers wrap around his cock and begins pumping. Fast.
“No. Want you like this,” Luka leans down to kiss him again, and Ivan moans when Luka licks the roof of his mouth greedily, hips shifting a little under his palms before he releases Ivan’s painfully hard cock.
Ivan’s gaze flicks down, and he can’t stop the hitch in his breath when he sees just how goddamn soaked Luka is beneath his underwear as his senior tugs them to the side and repositions himself over the head of Ivan’s dick.
“Oh,” Ivan lets out a breathless chuckle, rubbing his cock over the wetness smeared around Luka’s pussy, “I didn’t think you’d get this worked up about it.”
“Your fault,” Luka huffs, then he’s sinking down on Ivan’s length in one fluid motion, and Ivan thinks about telling him to stop another time.
“Make it hurt,” Luka pleads—he never pleads—gently wrapping Ivan’s hand around the smooth expanse of his throat, head tilted back against Ivan’s pillows. “Can you do that for me?” He repeats imploringly, pupils so damn huge that Ivan can barely see the pale yellow of his irises. His chest is heaving lightly, cheeks a pretty shade of pink, hair disheveled from how hard Ivan had tugged on it.
”I’m,” Ivan sputters, flushing from the tips of his ears to his neck, his own breathing labored as Luka forces his fingers to curl around his neck, the pad of his thumb fluttering over his pulse just below his jaw, palm pressing against his Adam’s Apple.
“I don’t know how to do this,” He answers honestly, fingers twitching.
“I don’t need you to,” Luka smiles kindly at him again, like he’s okay with the thought of Ivan messing up and hurting him for real. Fuck. Both of their managers would kill them if they came back the next day and Luka was injured—if they saw the damn hand print that would inevitably be branded onto his skin.
…Not like they’d know the cause of it.
“There’s something seriously wrong with you,” Ivan admits bluntly, but he can’t deny the hotness burning in his chest, or the way his fingers itch to press down, “You’re sure?”
Luka’s naked hips lift off the mattress to press against the thigh between his legs, the seam of his pussy dragging against the soft fabric of Ivan’s slacks, and he’s so damn warm and wet and tempting. It’s hard to say no when Luka looks like he can get himself off on Ivan’s thigh, coming and shuddering without a cock to stuff him.
He doesn’t realize that his fingers are squeezing ever so slightly around Luka’s neck until Luka moans encouragingly, head lolling backwards, melting into the soft, gray pillow in bliss, and when he looks back up, his cheeks are lit aflame.
“Please?” He breathes, lashes fluttering, eyes droopy, spit-slick lips dropping open as he keeps up that slow backward-forward motion.
Oh fuck, Ivan is unable to stop the strangled noise that leaves his lips, nor is he able to stop his palm from pressing down harder. It makes Luka’s hips stutter, and only then does Ivan realize how much this is affecting him. The thought of dragging more of those pretty noises from Luka’s chest becomes too hard for Ivan to resist. So he does as he’s told, and wonders how long it’ll take to get Luka to come on his thigh like this with a hand around his throat.
Self-restraint was never his strong-suit, anyway.
“Are you okay?” Sua asks him one day, halfway through their first day on-set for round seven. They’re standing off to the side while Till and Luka run through the choreography of a particular scene for the nth time.
Ivan looks at her strangely, cocking his head to the side as he perches himself on one of the benches meant for the ‘Segyein’ audiences.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” She plops down next to him with a shrug, “You haven’t been talking to Till recently.”
He blinks slowly, thoroughly confused, “But I have been?”
“I mean,” Sua begins carefully, squinting at him, “Outside of group hangouts. And the group chat. I haven’t seen you hanging around him at all since we finished filming round six.”
Ivan pauses for a moment, re-hashing the events of the past few weeks, scouring his brain for any interactions outside of their typical banter within the friend group, and only then does he realize he’s been spending more time with Mizi and Sua outside of work rather than Till. And the time he didn’t spend with them was spent with Luka. In Ivan’s apartment, or Luka’s, because going to each other’s homes is apparently a thing they do now.
“Huh,” Ivan responds lamely, not really knowing how to feel about that.
“‘Huh’?” She quotes him, both brows shooting up, “Seriously. Are you okay?”
“Yes?” He shakes his head, equally as puzzled, but now that Sua has reminded him, he should really pester Till after he finishes shooting for the day. “I didn’t realize that not talking to Till would be a cause for concern.”
“About him,” Sua adds with heavy scrutiny, “You haven’t been talking about him too.”
Ah.
“…Ahhh,” Ivan replies oh-so-eloquently.
He really, really doesn’t know what to do with the sudden realization.
”Ivan,” Sua repeats seriously, “Did something happen between you two after the kiss? Did you fight?”
”No,” Ivan quickly defends himself—and Till. “No, nothing happened, we’re fine, I swear.”
And it was true, they were completely fine, except for the few seconds during the afterparty, when Till had draped himself over Ivan’s side on one of the barstools set up in their studio, then left him moments later to follow Mizi around in his drunken stupor, and the rest of the night he had spent back in his apartment with Luka. It genuinely never occurred to him; the lack of clinginess.
The girl’s brows furrow in disbelief, “Really?”
“Really,” Ivan nods earnestly, “You and Mizi would’ve been the first to know if something was wrong, you know that.”
Sua seems to contemplate his words for a moment, so for good measure, Ivan placates her with a genuine smile, one he has reserved specifically for conversations like this.
“We’re okay,” He reassures her honestly, “I just… It didn’t really cross my mind. And Till doesn’t seem to care much either, so it’s not a big deal.”
“Hm,” Sua falters, before she shakes her head in reluctance, “If you say so.”
”I’d tell Mizi before you if we were fighting, though,” Ivan lets the reply slip before giving it much thought, and he also lets her shove at his arm with a laugh before she launches into a story about Till and Hyuna’s latest musical escapade, and when he spares a glance at the stage a few meters below them, he catches Luka’s steady gaze.
Ivan raises a brow in question, and when Luka’s lips quirk up, he can’t help but look away, fingers twitching, itching to touch.
“No more,” Ivan murmurs against Luka’s lips as they fall into Luka’s bed after hours of being on-set, his senior’s thighs bracketing his hips, hands feverishly groping at his chest and his shoulders, “One more time, and we’ll stop.”
Luka hums in agreement, slides his tongue between his parted lips, and makes Ivan a liar.