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Till doesn't really believe in shallow things like fate or destiny or anything that means that everything is predestined and you cannot do nothing but follow the script some asshole deity up there had written.
No, what Till believes in is whatever happens to his future is all because of his actions and decisions—no one else's.
And every damn god in the book could go suck a dick if they so ever thwart the way he wants to live his own life.
That was why, on his twenty-second birthday, he had made the decision to have a one night stand with the first person he sees come in the bar's entrance.
Dumb? Yes.
Impulsive? Oh, a hundred and one percent.
Something that he was going to accept the consequences of fully? Absolutely, he was the one who decided to do this after all.
And besides, after knowing his crush of seventeen years had gotten engaged (on the day of his birthday, no less!) to her long-time girlfriend, a one night stand seems to be the only thing that would cure him of his heartache.
Hyuna always tells him that sex releases some happy hormones, dopamine or some shit, and that he should put himself out there more to look less “like a depressed cat who's left on the side of the road on a rainy day”—her exact words.
So, rational “Till” had taken a vacation to the deepest part of his subconscious while he let horny “Till” front. Besides, it's been a long time since he got laid that he actually wants the sexual release now.
Till drowns the bourbon in front of him and hears the ice clink around in the glass when he places it back on the counter with a thud. Hyunwoo, who was manning the bar, gives him a funny look but goes to move and prepare his next drink—Till did give him specific instructions to get him plastered tonight and Hyunwoo was the ever obedient friend.
Viridian eyes kept glancing over and over at the entrance but not one soul had come in after him so his plan of sleeping with the first person he sees takes longer than he had hoped it would.
“Hyunwoo!” Till half shouts over the dizzying sound of EDM music over the speakers. The guy in question looks up from an overly flirtatious customer and walks over to Till, relief clouding his gray eyes.
“Yes? Don't tell me you want another drink?” Hyunwoo admonishes, pointing to his still full bourbon. “You still need to finish this.”
Till shakes his head, the action starting to make him dizzy. Maybe he's already near his “piss drunk” threshold but he powers through, focuses on the spot between Hyunwoo’s eyebrows and brings the bartender closer by pulling on his collar. Till doesn't want to shout.
“Is Isaac and Dewey coming in today?” He asks, face too near to the other guy that he hears some giggles from beside him.
He could sleep with Hyunwoo, but he's currently working and Hyuna might actually kill him and leave his body tied up for the rats somewhere if he does that. Besides, Hyunwoo is too pure for something like a friends with benefits situation. Isaac or Dewey though, they might invite him in their weird, little relationship or whatever.
Besides, Dewey's cute. Isaac even better—Till had always been so gung ho about those brooding types.
“You know they would. They always do.” Hyunwoo says like it was an absolute truth—it is. “Maybe closer to around midnight, I think. I overheard them talking about going to that newly opened bar up on fourth and you know they won't leave until they tried every drink there is on the menu.”
Midnight. Till clicks his tongue and releases Hyunwoo's collar—which he immediately straightens up as he walks over to another customer who waved him down.
Till looks at his watch, surprisingly, his brain still registers the time like normal, and takes note that midnight is still an hour away. Anyone else could walk in those damn double glass doors and Till would have to seduce them in order to see his decision through.
Now that the realization that someone absolutely disgusting could come in hits him, his body gave a shudder. He contemplates on calling Dewey or Isaac to hurry the fuck over and continue their weird foreplay ritual some other time and come to the bar but before his hand could reach for the phone on his jeans’ pocket, the sound of the bar's doors opening makes him freeze.
Till swallows, hand clutching at his glass before tipping his head over and downing its contents in one big gulp. The fire of the alcohol burning through his throat and making him flush.
Turning to look at the newcomer, newcomers as there were a bunch of people who came in but that isn't really important as Till's eyes honed in on the person in front of the group, Till face blanched.
Oh. Hell. No.
N-fucking-o.
He banged his forehead to the counter rather loudly and wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
Fucking hell.
Is this what he gets for being a non-believer? Has he somehow forsaken the world in his past life that he's being punished in his current one? Should he have devoted himself to religion as well like his parents had?
“Look who it is.” An annoying voice calls out and Till just mutters every profanity he knows under his breath, cursing every single thing that happened along the way that lead him to this moment.
“Ivan, you dancin’?” Another voice shouts from the direction of the dance floor. An annoying sounding laugh comes from beside him followed by an equally, super, annoying voice. “Just go first. I'll be there right behind you guys.”
Fucking kill me. Till repeats in his mind like a mantra, a curse. Please, fucking kill me now.
“Till.” He feels a finger poke his cheek and Till's immediate reaction was to cover the area where he had been touched and sit up, narrowing his eyes at the annoying guy beside him.
How dare he touch Till! He was super, ultra, mega, and every word that's synonymous, annoying!
“Stop fucking touching me.” Till growled at Ivan and pointed a finger towards the dance floor. “Go and be with your friends, asshole. Don't bother me.”
“They're not my friends.” Ivan answers, stupid grin still plastered on his face. “Besides,” he continues and waves Hyunwoo over, “I'd rather spend my time with you now that I know you're here.”
Till groans, grumbles under his breath how stupid everything was and shoves at Ivan—who only gives him a hearty laugh.
Hyunwoo gives Till a brief, worried, glance before taking Ivan's order—a bourbon, the same fucking thing Till has been drinking—and silently gives Till his drink as well.
Till downs his in a second, Ivan looks over his own to glance at Till.
A few more rounds, courtesy of Till calling Hyunwoo over every five seconds, and the green eyed man was drunkenly slumped over the counter, head cradled over his arms, as he watches Ivan drink his alcohol lazily. A few girls, and guys, started to approach him with a conversation in mind but the dark haired guy just waved them off—his polite smile ever present on his face, which made Till irate.
He has to go through his decision and he couldn't live with the idea of backing out of something he had put upon himself. His conscience would never let him live his life free of any attachments if he does back out.
By some fucking luck, Till had no choice but to sleep with Ivan.
He groans again, burying his face on the crook of his elbow and cursing Ivan's name over and over—trying to will the other man to disappear.
“What's that?” Ivan whispers directly in his ear. Till shudders at the sudden contact of Ivan's hot breath over his piercings.
“I fucking hate you.” He mumbles as an answer, punching the horny “Till” right in the face as he felt himself get hot and bothered over Ivan's low voice in his ears.
Him? Feeling aroused by fucking Ivan? Not in a million fucking years! It must be the alcohol talking. Yes, that's it. It's those damn bourbon shots Hyunwoo has been giving him. Not his fault. Nuh-uh. He would never get aroused by Ivan's voice if the choice was up to him—
A moan barely escapes his lips when Ivan suddenly pinches his ear. The same fucking ear he was whispering into!
Till's face burned with shame as he felt Ivan flinch beside him, his thumb and pointer finger frozen on Till's reddening ear.
“What the fuck?” Ivan mumbles lowly. A small, surprised smile present in his voice, and Till, fucking him and his now excited body, makes another sound.
He should just grab one of Hyunwoo's stirring spoons and ram that through his eyes straight to his brain because. What. The. Actual. Fuck. Is. Happening.
He should be able to time travel and kick his past self for making an impulsive decision, like having a fucking one night stand on his fucking birthday and drowing his sorrows in alcohol, if he tried hard enough.
But he isn't in some sci-fi movie where he's granted some mystical powers. He's in a really shitty reality where he has to sleep with his nemesis just to satiate his obsessive behavior about him having to see through his decisions or else.
So, Till, trying so hard not to throw a punch, grabs Ivan's fingers that were still on his ear and uses them to pull the annoying guy closer to him.
“Want to get out of here…or something?” The last few words fade into a grumble and Till lifts his head a little, glancing at Ivan through his lashes and he swears he can see Ivan's black eyes turn red at his question.
Before Till could back out, fuck him and his conviction really, Ivan is already pulling him up by the waist and slamming his card on the table.
“Include his tab as well.” Ivan says to a bewildered Hyunwoo who was trying to catch Till's attention, only to get ignored because the gray haired man was looking at the floor, ears red and willing an earthquake to destroy everything right fucking now.
Hyunwoo just nods and watches as Till and Ivan walks out of the bar, Ivan clutching Till close to him like he was afraid the other guy would run off.
“They won't end up in a hospital, would they?” Hyunwoo asked, more to himself than to anyone, as he remembers the last time Till and Ivan threw a fist at each other. He shakes his head, short brown hair swishing, as he gives Dewey and Isaac a wave—the two just came in a few seconds after Till had left with Ivan.
“I pray for Till's safety.” Dewey comments and Hyunwoo pales. His sister would kill him if something happens to Till tonight—well, maybe not kill him but Hyunwoo doesn't want to find out how Hyuna would react either.
“I knew it. They might end up killing each other.” He worries his bottom lip and decides between doing his job and going after his friend.
Dewey and Isaac look at each other and immediately laughs. “Oh no, you sweet child. I pray for Till's asshole.” Dewey says, finger moving like he is lecturing a literal kid. “But yeah, they might kill each other. Not in the common way though.” He adds, placing his finger on his chin.
Isaac nods solemnly, “I've never seen Ivan look like that, dude. Might not work but I also pray for Till's asshole.”
Hyunwoo, who was now heavily blushing at his sudden realization, stammers an excuse as he moves to ready the pair’s drinks.
Dewey and Isaac just once again laughs and cooed at how innocent Hyunwoo is.
—✮—
“Ivan, wait—hmpf.” Till tries to shove at Ivan as he kisses him again.
Till really can't remember how they got here, his memories starting to blur together, but he can remember his back hitting the wall as soon as they stepped inside…his apartment?
Where are they?
Till moans, cutting off his thoughts, as Ivan shoves his tongue down his throat. Like he was a drowned victim and Till's mouth was his air. Which is funny cause Till is rapidly getting out of breath.
He felt himself tighten his hold around Ivan, clutching at the back of his coat like it was a lifeline. Ivan, in response, slots one of his legs in between Till's and pushes up into Till's crotch.
And, oh fucking god, did that feel so good.
Till throws his head back, colliding loudly with the wall, as Ivan grinds his thighs against his erection again—a silent moan parting his lips open. Ivan seizes the opportunity and grabs at the back of Till's neck pulling him in again for a deep kiss.
With one hand on the side of Till's head, Ivan was essentially caging him in, not letting him have a way out in case he changes his mind. Till doesn't mind though, it's not that he's backing out either.
He's desperate and Ivan's touch feel like fire on his skin as the taller guy moves to grab the back of his thighs and taps three times. Surprisingly, Till understands the silent command and he gives a little jump in time with Ivan hoisting him up. His legs immediately wraps around Ivan as the new position made their kiss deepen more—Till's fingers were now carded against Ivan's soft locks as Ivan secured his weight by gripping his thighs tightly.
All his thoughts are thrown out the window when Ivan starts to walk forwards, feet expertly navigating the space without even needing to open his eyes. Ivan groans when he feels the pad of Till's thumbs trace the taut bone of his jaw as he had to tilt his head up to continue kissing the gray haired man.
Soft footsteps were drowned by the vulgar sound of tongue on tongue as Ivan walks towards what Till hopes is the bedroom.
“Fuck.” Ivan drawls out, lips ghosting over Till's, as he presses him against another hard surface. A string of saliva connecting their mouths as their breaths fanned over the dismal space between them.
One of Ivan's hands fiddles with something Till cannot see as he looks over Ivan's features. He finds out that he loves looking at Ivan from up here. His thick black lashes obscuring his eyes, the bridge of his nose is a straight line that a divine being must've had taken hours sculpting his features into perfection, and his lips, oh god his lips. Till thinks it's actually a sin that Ivan's lips weren't on his right at this moment.
Till leans down to give Ivan's lips a lick, making Ivan look back at him with red, hot lust clouding his eyes. “You.” He said, accusing. But before Ivan could get another word in, a small click sounded behind Till and he was falling backwards.
He gives a yelp as he closes his eyes and tightens his hold on the taller guy. Ivan was panicking as well, having been distracted by Till licking his lips, he'd forgotten that he was trying to open the door to the bedroom.
Ivan moves his hands to cover the back of Till's head before a loud thud, and the sound of their breaths getting knocked out of them, echoed against the silent air. He hisses as his elbow gets banged up on the floor, thankfully the carpet was there to somehow cushion their fall but that doesn't mean that Ivan's elbow would come out of this free of bruises.
Till opens his eyes and stares into Ivan's own—relief and panic both swirling inside their orbs as a sudden laughter cuts between them. Till's face scrunches up as he laughs, writhing underneath Ivan.
Ivan finds out that he loves looking at Till from up here.
“Are you okay?” Genuine concern laces in Ivan's question as both of Till's hands grip around his forearm. Till nods, traces of his laughter still present on his face and Ivan wants to kiss it away.
So he did, dropping his shoulders a little bit to claim Till's lips. Their brief moment of panic was immediately replaced with lust as their kiss deepened once again. This time, it was Till's tongue who pushed into Ivan's mouth first.
Till basks in the pleasure of feeling Ivan close to him, hands roaming all over his body as Ivan's own still cradle the back of his head. His nerves sang as he felt the pulse beneath Ivan's skin. He disintegrates into light particles when Ivan moans into his mouth as he gave his carotid arteries a gentle push—breath hitching at the sound.
Why the hell does this man sound so fucking good?
Till doesn't know the answer, but he presses into Ivan's neck once more and lets out a fucking whine when Ivan replies by grinding his hips against his.
Oh god oh god oh god oh god. Till shouts inside his head. Oh god it feels so good.
“Do it again.” Till whispers, commands, and Ivan could do nothing but heed his wishes.
A loud moan rips from somewhere deep inside Till as Ivan grinds into him once again, more insistent this time. His legs fall open widely as Ivan moves his hands from behind his neck to push them apart.
It was difficult, to the point of Till feeling slight pain because he was wearing jeans, but he didn't mind. Not really, when Ivan was pushing against him once more. The friction feels heavenly as the air around them gets charged with electric tension making Till feel like his whole body is on fire.
He's on fire and he wants it to consume him whole—leave him charred and bruised and wounded because, god fucking damnit, Ivan feels like god personified above him.
Ivan continued to hump against Till, his erection perfectly lining up with his own and Till could only let whispers of “more” and “harder” and “please” escape his parted lips.
And Ivan did all those, a devout follower and his god, as he pulls Till closer making the friction between them more insistent, hurried, as Till feels the pleasure building up in his lower abdomen—coiling tighter and tighter until it was ready to snap.
“Ivan!” Till screams his name as he grips Ivan's shoulder tight, nails digging against his clothes, as pleasure blinds his eyes, exploding behind his eyelids as he feels himself tip over the edge and spilling into his underwear.
He came. And they weren't even out of their clothes yet.
Ivan leans on him and kisses his parted lips, easing him into his orgasm. Kissing him on his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, his jaw. The feel of Ivan's lips on his skin brings him back from his high as he suddenly feels wet droplets against his skin.
He languidly opens his eyes and finds Ivan crying on top of him. Till panics a little bit seeing him cry but his breath gets knocked out of him when he feels himself getting hard again because Ivan was still rubbing his own erection against Till's softened crotch.
What the actual fuck?
“Please.” Ivan whispers, kissing Till's chin. His breathing was ragged and a shudder ran all over Till's spine hearing Ivan, of all people, plead for him.
“Please what?” Till asks, just to be mean. The perverse feeling of being in control making his head spin. The alcohol had probably integrated into his cells, making him feel like he was punch drunk on Ivan's voice.
“Please, Till.” Ivan whines and Till's nerves practically sing. “I want to be inside you.”
Till gulps, still feeling Ivan moving against him—trying to chase his own high as Till dangled the fruit just above his awaiting lips. Its quite morbid, Till feeling pleasure surge inside him at the sight of Ivan this desperate.
Fucking Ivan who he brawled with when they were in kindergarten because he broke the recorder Mizi had given him.
Fucking Ivan who was in the next bed over as he and Till sported broken bones when Till got angry at Ivan that one time in grade school because he drew over his drawing of Mizi.
Fucking Ivan who Till had kicked while he was sleeping because he gave Mizi the music sheet he had been working on for her birthday giving him a broken rib while Till got a broken nose.
Fucking Ivan who Till had sent to the hospital a lot of times because they just can't exist around each other without beating each other up.
Fucking Ivan who was crying on top of him, desperate to fuck him.
Fucking Ivan. Oh god, he was going to fuck Ivan.
Till pulls Ivan towards him and kisses him hotly. He tastes like the bourbon they got from the bar as well as salt from his tears. It turned him on a lot more than what he had thought and he was already hard just minutes after he orgasmed.
Even while playing with himself, Till had to wait at least a couple of minutes before he could get hard again. But Ivan, oh dear god Ivan, looked so fucking hot crying on top of him, crying for him, that his refractory period right now felt non-existent.
“Please.” Ivan begs again—begs!—and Till nods, finally showing grace at his worshiper, pulling Ivan closer and whispering next to his ear. “Carry me to bed.”
His words were like hypnosis as Ivan immediately scrambles up and carries him to the bed in the middle of the room. Till now notices that they aren't in his apartment so they must be at Ivan's.
The interior looks like Ivan—monotonous and devoid of any other personality. The whole room screams “functional” making it feel like not lived in enough.
Tills spots a study table in the corner and he immediately imagines fucking over there too.
He gives out a little oomph when Ivan drops him into the bed, the dark haired man pulling his coat off before kissing him again.
Everything went by in a blur: clothes getting thrown off bodies hastily, lips and tongue moving against each other, dicks getting rubbed together. Until, they both are sitting there, naked and horny and Till wants to feel Ivan's lips all over his skin and he wants to place his lips all over Ivan's skin.
“Who's topping?” Till asks, running a hand through Ivan's hair as black eyes bore into his. Ivan was still above him, he has stopped crying but his eyes were still misty with unshed tears. Till was determined to make him cry one more time tonight.
“I want to be inside you.” Ivan whines, nuzzling the side of Till's face with his forehead. “Please.”
Till gives a moan as Ivan kisses downwards, creating a path towards his shoulder blade and then back up again. “Please, Till.”
Ivan pushes himself up and tilts his head, Till imagines a tail wagging behind him as he waits for Till's answer.
God fucking damnit, he hadn't thought Ivan's little trick would work on him but here he was, readying himself internally as he finds that he really can't say no to him. Not when Ivan sounds so fucking good begging him like that.
“Fine,” he sighs, rolling his eyes without the heat. “But I'm fucking you next round.”
The grin that lit up Ivan's face as he nods makes Till flush all over. They had been making out, dry humped each other on the floor, hell, he even came. But the thing that makes him flush is the sight of Ivan's snaggletooth peeking behind his lips as he grinned.
Something is fucking wrong with him.
Till gets pulled out of his wandering mind when he feels Ivan's kisses on the inside of his thigh, an already lubed up finger rubbing against his hole.
When the fuck did he get that lube? Till glares at Ivan who only meets his eyes before kissing his abdomen, blinking innocently at Till's unsaid question.
Till looks away before looking back down at Ivan again when he feels the other guy kiss the head of his cock. Till's hips move involuntarily, chasing Ivan's mouth. His earlier climax had stuck to Ivan's lips, connecting the two in a sticky string.
“Oh fuck.” Till drawls out as he throws his arm over his eyes, embarrassed at his sudden movement. Ivan gives a chuckle before swallowing him whole, the tip of his cock brushing against the back of Ivan's throat.
Till screams out a moan as Ivan had placed his cock inside his mouth the same time he pushed a finger inside Till.
Being pleased both ways made Till grip Ivan's hair as he moaned wantonly—inhibitions and insecurities about another person seeing his naked body gone out the window as Ivan worshiped Till like he was his creator, the reason for his being.
Obscene sounds coming from both getting a blowjob and getting fingered makes Till choke on his breath as Ivan hollows out his cheeks, creating a suction around Till that made him see stars.
“Ivan.” He whispers, tugging at the black locks gripped on his fingers. The pleasure carving out the sound of Ivan's name on his bloodstream. “Ivan. Ngh.”
Ivan hums, the sound traveling towards the coil starting to tighten again inside Till's lower abdomen. Ivan pushes another finger inside him and presses into that spot that makes Till scream out in ecstasy.
Till's hands couldn't stay in one place, gripping Ivan's hair, the sheets, his own hair, as he gets lost in the pleasure that Ivan builds up for him. A third finger enters him and Till feels like he was going to cry from the intense pleasure Ivan was giving him.
Ivan's movements went from slow to almost manic as he brought Till closer and closer into his second climax of the night. Till, drunk on pleasure, just let Ivan play his body like a piano and making him sing jumbled words of Ivan’s name, god, and that he's coming.
Till comes inside Ivan's mouth for his second climax.
Ivan swallows before Till could push him off and moves back up, pushing himself up on his elbows as he gives Till a kiss. The taste of Till's spend on Ivan's tongue sounds disgusting but Till, surprisingly, did not mind. He tastes like musk, and the pineapple juice he had been drinking in the morning was paying off—not that he had been drinking them for this exact reason but its because he gets thirsty in the mornings but didn't want to drink water and pineapple juice is all that's stocked on his fridge.
“Can I be inside you now?” Ivan asks, pushing slightly against Till's hole before sliding it over and rubbing his still hard cock against Till's soft one.
Till nods, not trusting to find his voice and watches as Ivan squirts lube directly to his cock and gives it a few pumps before hoisting one of Till legs up on his elbow and positioning himself directly at the front of his entrance.
“I'm clean. Don't worry.” Ivan says, breaking the moment and Till's face bursts into flames. His fist hitting Ivan's shoulder.
“The fuck? Not the right time when you're literally going to fucking go inside m—ah!” Till's words get cut off when Ivan pushes into him, slowly inching inside him.
The pressure builds inside Till as his ass scrambles to accommodate Ivan's bigger than average cock. Till holds onto Ivan's forearm while his other hand closes over the sheets, knuckles turning white.
He holds his breath as he waits for Ivan to bottom out, balls flush against the supple weight of Till's ass cheeks.
Ivan pants above him, searching his eyes for something unknown, before dipping his head down and kissing Till. He waits for Till to adjust to his length, kissing Till's tears away. He knows the stretch is going to be painful for the gray haired man so he patiently kisses him, the hand that wasn't holding his leg up was caressing his hips in a circular manner—easing Till into the pain.
After the initial burn has been replaced by an itch Till wants to scratch, he moves his hips slightly upward before moving it back down again. A whimper escaping from his pursed lips.
Ivan took that as a cue that he could now start moving. He pulls out of Till slowly until the head of his cock catches on the rim of Till's asshole before pushing back into Till's heat again.
One of Till's hands grabs at the hand on his hips as he intertwines their fingers together, clutching at Ivan's hand the way a sinner would his prayer beads. His cock already hardening between them.
Ivan's pace picks up and the heat of their bodies was making the room feel stuffy and heady and Till feels like he just got a hit of some drug as litanies of Ivan's name spills from his mouth.
It wasn't long until Ivan was fucking into him with reckless abandon, Till's name like a mantra on his lips. No, more like a prayer—of a sinner begging for salvation.
Till felt the wet droplets on his cheeks again and he honed into the tears and sweat dripping off of Ivan's eyes and forehead and into his own skin.
Ivan was crying again.
Ivan is fucking insane, and so was Till because he couldn't help but reach out to the back of Ivan's neck and pulling him closer—licking Ivan's tears from his cheeks like he was a thirsty man in a desert and Ivan's tears were his oasis.
The sound of Ivan's headboard banging the wall coupled with Till and Ivan's moans and grunts would for sure earn them a noise complaint from a neighbor who was already sleeping but is woken up by the sounds of sex.
There was no mistaking it now, Till loves having sex with Ivan. A jolt of pleasure courses through his veins when he felt Ivan twitch inside him as Till, once again, pushes on his carotid artery.
“Pervert.” Till whispers, voice already sounding broken.
Ivan grins. “Only for you.” He answers, followed by a long moan as Till pushes against his neck harder.
Ivan was now chanting his name non-stop, the sound of skin-on-skin shaking Till to the core. The feeling of Ivan filling him up and then emptying him out once again was addicting.
He's drunk on Ivan and the way his tears fall prettily from his eyes. The way his voice sounds around the syllable of Till's name. The way he moves inside Till and the way he worships Till's body like he was his messiah.
He's fucking drunk on Ivan.
Ivan hoists Till's other leg into his other elbow and spreads him further apart, making him go deeper and abuse the bundle of nerves inside Till that makes him see the universe.
“Ivan. Hah. Ivan, faster. Do me harder. Please, deeper.” Till says into the crook of Ivan's neck as the black haired man drives into him faster and harder and deeper. Just like what he wished for, like a genie that grants him three wishes.
The air feels thin and Till finds it difficult to breathe, his fingers scrambles into Ivan's back—clawing red lines over porcelain skin. Leaving his mark on Ivan, scars that would stay for a long period of time until they can come together once again and Till could carve his mark on Ivan's skin once more.
The idea of Till wanting to have sex with Ivan aside from tonight was absurd, but he doesn't want to let this man go. Doesn't want to let him get away when he begs so prettily for him.
How could Till? When Ivan's already his.
Till dug his nails into Ivan's back more, drawing a little blood and earning a hiss from Ivan but he didn't stop. He was still pounding Till's ass like there was no tomorrow for them.
Ivan is his. And everyone who tries to say otherwise could try and pry him off of Till's cold, dead, hands.
Ivan is his and anyone who says otherwise could just go and drop dead, or, Till could kill them. He knows he could fight.
“Till. Till. I'm coming.” Ivan whimpered, tears now dropping through his eyes like gemstones and Till wanted to catch them in a little jar and keep it close to his heart. “Till.” He groans.
Till doesn't answer him. He knows Ivan is waiting for his permission and the feeling of having control over someone like Ivan was doing something to his brain that might never be undone again. He might never find pleasure like this again.
“Till. Please.” Ivan begs, and Till thinks ‘beg some more. Kneel for me. Offer yourself up to me.’ He doesn't say it out loud though, just meets Ivan's eyes with his half lidded ones as silently prays that Ivan can read his mind.
“Till, let me come.” Ivan pushes against him and this little spark of rebellion, this little act of defiance, makes Till shiver. His bones rattle beneath his skin as he realized they're a match made in purgatory.
“Go ahead.” Till whispers against his lips before mashing them together harshly. Their teeth clash and Till could taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.
Ivan lets out a guttural moan, partly silenced by Till's lips, as he spills inside of Till—painting his insides white with his cum. Till kisses him through it as Ivan jerks his hips against Till's until he emptied his load.
Ivan's cum feels so warm and thick inside of him that Till moans into their kiss, making Ivan snake his hands between them, giving Till's cock a few more tugs before he also lets out a few spurts of cum. His third climax of the night.
They both part from their kiss and Ivan collapses on top of him, his heavy breathing directly next to his ear.
“That was…something.” He said, chuckling a little before Till nudges his shoulder and Ivan immediately pushes himself up.
Till cups his cheeks and wiped at the few stray tears that clung to his lashes. Till kisses him once. Then twice. Then kisses his thumbs that wiped Ivan's tears away.
Ivan gives a groan at that, his spent cock giving a slight twitch inside Till.
“No more.” Ivan whined, dropping his body back on top of Till as he wrapped his sweaty arms around the gray haired main. Till rolls his eyes at Ivan's slyness as he grabs one of his butt cheeks and gave a hard smack.
“What do you mean no more?” Till asks, kneading the soft flesh of Ivan's butt and feeling the black haired man's breathing pick up. “Didn't I tell you I'm fucking you next round?”
Ivan whimpers as Till's other hand runs up and down his spine, fingers as light as a butterfly's kiss—tracing the curve of his body as Ivan squirms on top of him.
“Pull out, Ivan.” Till says, and Ivan groaned as he did so. Till immediately felt the loss of Ivan's warmth inside him but its his turn to be on top. And he has been looking forward to it just as much as he had been looking forward to having Ivan inside him.
He gives Ivan's shoulder a peck as he roamed his hands all over his body. Till's eyes falls sideways and into the study table he saw earlier. A glint crosses his orbs as he imagines bending Ivan over the table top, fucking into him until Ivan is crying again.
He smiles and pulls Ivan's hair up, making him look into his eyes. “I want to fuck you over your study table. Open you up for me as you moan my name over and over. Until you cannot tell where you end and where I begin.”
Ivan's eyes flicker, the reddish hue returning against the deep, black.
Till had long sobered up from the alcohol, but he was definitely drunk on the way Ivan's cheeks turned red at his vulgar words.
“But not right now.” Till could feel Ivan's half-hard cock twitch against his leg. “Give me a minute. You made me come three times, Ivan, and I need to gather enough strength in my legs to actually fuck you.”
“Okay.” Ivan pouts and nods, burying his face against Till's chest. “Okay, Till.” He adds, a whisper right above Till's beating heart. A promise.
His voice sounds like honey, thick and velvety and sweet. And Till can't get enough. Why hadn't they fucked before? Why were they always fighting before?
Mizi.
Oh yeah, right. It was because of Mizi. Who is now engaged to Sua. Mizi had always been at the center of their fights. So does that mean…
“...you like Mizi?”
Ivan immediately pulls his head up, looking so disgusted like Till had vomited all over his food instead of blurting out an innocent question. Till burst out laughing at the look on his face, making Ivan slap his chest.
“Don't even joke about that kind of thing ever again.” Ivan growls, sounding upset. “You're an idiot.”
Till doesn't get an answer to his question, nor does he understand why Ivan was upset. But it doesn't matter now anyways, Ivan is his now. He had staked his claim on him starting tonight.
He'll keep him inside his little bubble until Ivan forgets every other persons name except for his. Until the only time Ivan calls out to another person is to call out to him. Until Ivan is completely, and willingly, his.
These morbid and obsessive thoughts kept swirling inside his head, but Till doesn't have a choice. He doesn't believe in fate or destiny, so if he wants to keep Ivan by his side, he has to work for it.
What a fucking mess.
He had even forgotten why and how they got to this point in the first place, he remembers drinking at the bar and then seeing Ivan, and then asking him to get out of there, and then this. Why had he asked Ivan out?
Maybe it was the alcohol? If so, then thank fucking god he had been drinking. But why had he been drinking?
Till groaned. Thinking right now made his head hurt and he doesn't want to think of anything else aside from fucking Ivan until he molds into the shape of him.
“Clean me up?” Till asks, voice sweet and innocent, that Ivan immediately nods and stands up, walking into an en suite as Till pulls himself into a sitting position.
Ivan returns with a basin full of lukewarm water and towels before telling Till to scoot over the end of the bed and kneeling in front of him.
Till's hand goes to Ivan's hair and he runs his fingers through it as Ivan starts to wipe him down, cum trickling from his asshole into Ivan's sheets which he doesn't seem to mind.
“Ivan.” Till calls, his voice siren-like as Ivan looks up at him in a trance.
“Yes?”
“After you're done can you stand over there and wait for me?” Till gestured towards the direction of the table and Ivan's eyes immediately clouds over. His lips parts in understanding as he nods.
“Good boy.” Till coos, ruffling Ivan's hair and letting out a grunt when he feels Ivan's finger enters his asshole, scooping out his cum.
Till’s eyes roam about Ivan's kneeling figure and it feels strangely sacrilegious. Ivan kneeling in front of him felt like a god kneeling in front of a mere mortal, and there's some sense of perverseness about everything when Till thinks about it like that.
Ivan, a god, kneeling in front of Till, a mortal.
No. It doesn't matter either way. Whether Ivan is his god or whether Till is Ivan's.
None of it matters as long as Ivan is his.
Till tilts Ivan's head up by his chin and dips his head to place a chaste kiss on his lips.
When they part, Ivan's eyes flutters open and, my god, does he look absolutely beautiful.
Yes. Everything else doesn't matter. All that matters is that, from now on, Till is the only one who can see Ivan like this.
His little Ivan. His.
Till pulls Ivan's face up once more for a kiss until they're standing. Until he's pushing Ivan into the corner where his study table is.
Ivan waits for Till to reach him, blood pumping through his veins like a cornered prey. Till walks towards him like a snake coiling itself and ready to bite.
Delicate hands reach for muscled forearms as Till feels the rush of blood beneath Ivan's skin. He roams his eyes everywhere on Ivan's body, taking in his statue-esque physique and ending on his eyes—pupils red and blown out.
With a simple touch of Till fingers, Ivan was already coming undone. Till was breaking him down into molecules before slowly building him back up again.
It's exhilarating, being given this much power over someone and Till goes crazy every second he hears the breath leave Ivan's lips.
He manically brings himself closer, searing Ivan's lips with his own, branding him as his with a strong bite that results in a bruise on Ivan's lips, right below his snaggletooth.
Ivan whines and Till almost coos, standing on his the balls of his feet because, god fucking damnit, Ivan is a lot taller than he is. Till has his arms around Ivan's neck, while Ivan's hands settle on Till's waist. Till feels so satisfied, so content with everything that's happening, but also wanting more.
More proximity. A lot closer.
He surges up again, the black haired man meeting him in the middle for a kiss.
Then, with great effort, Till parts from Ivans lips: kissing his cheek, his chin, his shoulder. Not stopping until he's eye level with Ivan's chest and Till looks back up at Ivan—who was biting the bruise on his lips, adding his own mark to Till's.
Till leans forward, kissing just above the place where Ivan's heart is and leaving a hickey there. Another mark, like a flag on the moon. An announcement that this guy is his.
“Ivan.” Till worships, kissing Ivan's torso all over. He's much more muscular than Till was, much bigger. But Ivan's stays there, watching Till with reverent eyes—letting Till do whatever to him. That submission makes Till giddy, he knows Ivan knows as well that Till would submit to him if he asks (not after clawing Ivan's eyes out and biting until there's blood) but the feeling of perfect, little Ivan waiting for Till's next move—watching Till—just makes him go insane.
“Turn around for me, yeah?”
Ivan takes this as a command and slowly turns around, placing both his hands on top of the wooden table. He shyly peeks on top of his shoulders at Till—a pretty blush adorning his cheeks.
Till almost screams, Ivan's back the perfect canvas for his hickeys as he slowly makes his way back to his shoulder blades and gives his lips a loud kiss.
“You're so pretty.” Till says, kissing the column of Ivan's neck; remembering the way Ivan whimpered when he pushed on his pulse. If Ivan's back was the perfect canvas for Till, then his neck was his masterpiece.
Till bites and sucks and licks until the entire column of Ivan's neck is littered with purpling bruises and welts contrasting the milky skin underneath. Till preens, mind going haywire at the sight of his marks on Ivan.
His hands are in constant contact with Ivan's body; the back of his thighs, his arms, his chest. Everywhere Till touches, he wishes he was leaving marks; fingerprints that sears into Ivan's skin.
Till reaches around Ivan and plunges two of his fingers into his mouth uncouthly. Ivan moans and laps at his digits like it was his only meal of the day. Ivan's an expert with his tongue, it was obvious with the way he kissed and the way he had blown Till just earlier, but the feeling of his tongue playing with Till's fingers—with his calluses from playing the guitar and drawing non-stop—was such a contrast that it makes Till feel lightheaded. Ivan's soft tongue with his rough fingers.
Till could feel his heart rattling inside his ribcage, beating faster and faster until he could hear the soft thuds in his ears.
He pulls his fingers away with a pop, gently kissing the back of Ivan's shoulder.
He takes his other hands and spreads Ivan's ass cheeks apart, making the taller guy groan and arch his back more to give Till easier access.
And oh my fucking god does that make Till's already hard cock ache.
The sight of Ivan, on his elbows, bending over a surface, was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. Till rubs Ivan's rim with his thumb before pushing his wet fingers in slowly. Ivan's saliva is a somewhat ineffective lubricant but Till can't be bothered to separate from him right now. Ivan's heat didn't ever really give him that much resistance.
“Till.” Ivan mewls, and Till steps forward, rubbing his hard cock on the back of Ivan's thigh. “Till,” he calls again, “no need to—ngh—no need to open me up. I need you inside please.”
Ivan's voice is already broken by a sob and Till hasn't even entered him yet!
“I don't want to hurt you.” Till whispers, a reciprocating gesture at the way Ivan had treasured him when it was him bottoming. Ivan had properly softened him up, made him cum once, before he even started to fuck into him.
Till wants to do the same, treat Ivan gently like he had treated him.
Ivan's red face darkens, pink turning into almost maroon as he opens his mouth before closing it again. Till raises his eyebrow, peering over Ivan's shoulder to look at his face. He's almost on his tiptoes right now.
“Ivan?”
Ivan groans and drops his upper body into the table, flushing his chest with the wood, an embarrassed whine coming from the back of his throat. Till stands there, confusion painting his face as Ivan's breathing slowly turns erratic.
“I played with myself…earlier.” Ivan begins, voice soft that Till had to lean over to hear him better. “Before…ugh…before I met you at the bar.”
Till blinks, his brain processing the words coming out from Ivan's mouth.
“I fingered myself.”
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Hold the fucking…
Oh my god!
Till immediately stands up straight, his muscles tense at what he just heard. He feels light headed, heart beating hundred miles per minute as Ivan's words sink in.
Ivan. His pretty, little Ivan, had played with himself.
His pretty, little motherfucker had fingered himself right before he went to the bar.
Till feels his stomach churn, a tangy taste invading the back of his throat. He leans forward and warm blood trickles down his nose slowly.
He's having a fucking nosebleed—all because he can picture out Ivan playing with himself!
Something's definitely wrong with him. Something's wrong with this bastard in front of him as well.
As he thought, a match made in purgatory.
“Till?” Ivan's voice was shaking, afraid he might have ruined the moment. It made Till's heart crack just a little. Ivan was about to push himself up and ask him what's wrong when Till suddenly pulls his fingers out of him and pushes Ivan back down—putting all his weight at the small of Ivan's back.
He wipes his nose, already feeling the bleeding stop, before grabbing his achingly erect cock with his hand—spitting accurately at the head, and aligning himself with Ivan's core.
“Keep your mouth shut.” Till grunts as he snaps his hips and enters Ivan without preamble. Where Ivan had waited for Till to adjust to his size, Till didn't give the same mercy to Ivan.
From the get go, he was pushing into him manically. Chasing his high like a lunatic. Ivan's broken moans were muffled as he kept his mouth shut, even going as far as biting his lips to the point of breaking skin.
The friction was brutal, without the help of lube, it wasn't that easy fucking into Ivan but Till's blood hammered in his veins, courses through his vessels like this is him.
This is how he likes it—pace bruising that it will leave the both of them sore until the end of time.
“Ivan.” Till calls, voice hoarse, as he continues to cant his hips into Ivan. “Ivan. You, fuck, you feel so good.”
Ivan just nods, his face hidden on his arms and Till feels his blood rush to his head.
He needs to look at Ivan—look at his face crying prettily under him.
So he moves the hand that was pushing Ivan down and reaches over to grab his chin and turn his head.
Till laughs—actually fucking laughs—as he manically watches Ivan's tears fall from his eyes. He's so fucking beautiful.
His beautiful boy. His.
Ivan's dazed pupils hones in on Till as the gray haired man forces his mouth open, placing his thumb heavily on top of Ivan's tongue who immediately gives it a suck.
Saliva dribbles over the small gap at the side of Ivan's mouth and he looks so debauched, so broken, that Till picks up his pace—rattling the table to the point of creaking. A flash of fear appears in Ivan's eyes as he lets go of Till's thumb and taps on Till's arm.
“Till. It—ah—it might break—ngh! The table might…might break, Till. Ah!’
But Till only leans forward, shutting him up with a kiss which he immediately returns as he continued to fuck into him tirelessly. From Ivan's lips, to his cheeks, towards his ear, and his neck—Till left bite marks all over the skin he can reach.
Feeling his climax climbing over him, Till pushes Ivan to the table by his neck and Ivan almost screams when he comes as Till tightens his hold, pushing into his carotids and momentarily cutting off his air supply.
Till feels Ivan tighten on him, his heart fluttering around him as he follows not long after, coming inside Ivan with a strong bite on his shoulder.
They tried to catch their breaths as Till's forehead rubs against the area between Ivan's shoulder blades. Ivan reaches back and runs his hand through Till's, wet with sweat, locks.
Their bodies feel sticky, yet no one dares move. Basking in the afterglow of having two rounds of sex. Their breaths eventually syncs up and Till pushes himself off of Ivan, but not before kissing gently over the bite mark he left.
“Told you the table would hold.” Till's voice sounds hoarse, but there is a boyish charm to it that makes Ivan's heart flutter.
“You didn't tell me anything.” Ivan answers and wipes at the remaining tears in his eyes. Till swats his hand and replaces them with his own—fingers gently brushing against Ivan's lower lashes.
He looks like a painting like this, something straight from a masterpiece of a maestro sometime in the renaissance.
Mine. Till shouts inside his mind.
Ivan blinks up at him and nods, like he heard Till thoughts and wholeheartedly agrees.
Well, the night is young and Till has all the time to show Ivan that he's his now.
Till doesn't stop until Ivan has come as many times as he did and Ivan doesn't stop until he's inside Till once again.
Well, Till can indulge until he's purely made out of carnal desire—his body shaking and every cell reaching out to feel Ivan.
He can let himself get lost in the pleasure because after tonight, Ivan's going to be his anyway.
His pretty, little Ivan.
His.
—✮—
Nobody questions Ivan when he comes into class with a turtleneck on in this humid weather.
Nobody asks Till why he was walking with a limp or if he had been in an accident.
Nobody asks them why they disappeared for a long time during lunch.
Nobody asks them why they both walked towards where Mizi and Sua were sitting and gives the couple a big congratulations, together, before walking away, bickering like they normally do.
And certainly, nobody asks them why Till's arm seemed to hover over Ivan's waist or how Ivan's smile looks more genuine now.
But Sua isn't a nobody, so she sends Ivan and Till separate texts asking if they finally fucked.
She won't tell anybody what she got for a response of course, she can keep a secret.
Well, maybe she can't keep a secret from Mizi. She loves her after all.