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Till was a man who held little sway in his life; thus, any control granted in the palm of his hands was rarely relinquished. He fancied the feeling of authority—the thrill that power had endowed. Like a distant, unknown star glinting in the night sky, beckoning to him through the lens of a telescope in its desire to be recognized even a million light-years away, it was the freedom of unrestricted will that dazzled him with its alluring, hypnotic serenade.
Tuned to temptation’s call, Till grasped onto the tense muscle of Ivan’s thigh in his scramble for balance. He plopped himself down onto Ivan’s lap and shimmied his hips, settling into the spot comfortably. As Till adjusted himself, Ivan’s stare had burnt a hole into the place where the two men were intimately joined, and in response to the sight, Till could feel all of Ivan’s blood rush straight to his dick—could feel it filling him up from within.
“You really do like this, huh? Being used—it doesn’t matter how.” Till let out a breathless chuckle, eyes wild with desire. He ran his fingers through Ivan’s hair before he bunched the locks into a fist and gave a harsh tug. “Weirdo.”
Ivan remained mute, silencing himself by biting his lower lip in frustration. He met Till’s gaze with a level look, difficult as it was for him to maintain composure. It wasn’t often Ivan had the tables turned on him like this; Till rarely held the confidence to tease back. More frequently, Till would spit out insults like he had meant them, not spoken like this: with affection lacing his tone and glee reflected in his eyes. Ivan could almost fool himself into thinking he was loved, were he to succumb to vacuous thought.
Till’s cock slapped against his belly each time he hoisted himself up. Afterwards, he let gravity drop him back down and relished in the winded feeling it gave him. It brought back memories of furious tussles and punches delivered straight to his solar plexus. Those fights always left Till with an adrenaline-fueled high; hard as it was for him to admit, he was addicted to the feeling.
“Are you happy you finally get to use this useless dick of yours? Or do you miss me treating you like a cocksleeve?” Till let out a loud cackle, then clicked his tongue in a display of faux annoyance. “Don’t worry—once I’m done here, I’ll turn you around and fuck you all nice and proper.” His smile was all teeth, like an animal baring its fangs. Were Ivan a saner man, he’d feel afraid; however, all he felt was a swell of adoration.
Till’s balls, tight and heavy, hit Ivan’s stomach upon every descent. Now and then, when Ivan was at his deepest, Till would halt abruptly to savor the feeling. He’d sit there, worn and laden, before slowly circling his hips to feel the cock inside drag against his walls—the nerves within set ablaze; the flames that had arisen licked up his spine and seared him with their heat. Till ignored Ivan’s pleading stare in favor of tilting his head back in ecstasy; his Adam's apple bobbed as he let out a satisfied groan.
“Fuuuuuck yeah,” he drawled, “that’s the stuff.”
Sluggishly, he swirled his hips around one last time before he, with great reluctance, resumed his former pace. As the man vigorously bounced in Ivan’s lap, he reached for his cock; the head leaking thick globs of pre-cum onto Ivan’s abdomen, and jerked himself off. Ivan let out a whine, begging to be heard. His hands, restless and with nowhere to go, gripped Till’s hips like a lifeline.
“Till. Till.” Ivan complained. His snaggletooth cut into his lower lip, blood beading from the nick.
Determined to silence Ivan’s pleas, Till captured him in a kiss, tongue lapping away protests. “Be patient.” He whispered against Ivan’s lips. Ivan exacerbated his wound, driving his tooth further into the puncture and causing more blood to well up. He licked into Till’s mouth, knowing best how to disgust the man. In retaliation, Till bit down on Ivan’s tongue—paying mind to not cause further injury. He pulled back, having won their small spat, and wiped the crimson from his mouth.
“Can’t just behave, can you?” Till scoffed. “You’re lucky I’m close.”
Till’s pace became increasingly frantic as he chased after his release with renewed fervor. Capture came quick—his body seized, his leg muscles spasming as he rode out his orgasm. Till fisted his cock, cum spurting on Ivan’s stomach and pooling between the divots of his abs. He had gone lax in Ivan’s lap the second his crest had passed. The man sat there, relaxed and in a daze, basking in the afterglow. Once he had come back into his mind, he slowly slipped off of Ivan’s dick and yanked away its latex wrapping. With dexterity gained from years of playing guitar, he tied the loaded condom into a tight knot and tossed it aside. Ivan lay there, watching every movement Till made, mesmerized.
While catching his breath, Till raked his fingers from Ivan’s abs towards his pecs—cautious to avoid his own seed—admiring as the pale skin turned a scratched pink. He groped at the flesh once before he pressed his fingernails into the shy, hidden buds that were the man’s nipples. For the first few times they had sex, Till couldn’t fathom why Ivan had been so insistent on staying clothed above the waist. The day he had peeled Ivan’s shirt off of him, Till understood: Ivan harbored great shame towards his chest. The revelation, impactful as it was, had caused Till to nearly burst right then and there. Ever since, Till has favored the area. He felt rewarded each time he had drawn out the small pearls from within their confines. There was a perverse pleasure in knowing that no one else knew of this clandestine truth; the heft of wisdom was a welcome weight on his shoulders.
“Turn around.” Till ordered.
Ivan complied, eager to flip onto his stomach and present his ass to Till—if only to distract the other from abusing sensitive flesh. “Like what you see?” He spoke with a teasing lilt, a sly smile on his face.
Playing along, Till replied. “Don’t know yet. Let me look.” He grabbed Ivan’s ass with both hands and spread him open. Till ran the pad of his thumb over the smooth, pink asshole he was greeted with; he pressed the digit to the inside of Ivan’s ass cheek—the plush fat giving way—to get a better look. He gave a low whistle in appreciation.
“Are you sure you don’t bleach?”
“Is that a request?” The falter in Ivan’s voice was near-imperceptible, almost slipping past undetected had Till not been paying attention. The sound caused him to roll his eyes—why start the game if unable to handle fair play?
“Relax, already. You’re way too uptight.”
Ivan gave him a pointed look in response. No words necessary, just the temperate stare of judgment.
“Wh—That’s different! Oh, fuck you!” Feeling defensive, Till slapped Ivan's ass. Immediately regretting it in a textbook display of hypocrisy, humiliation gnawed at him. He could feel his gums ache from the sudden blood flow to his face and felt his teeth buzz with hideous energy.
“Won’t you?” Ivan’s voice cut through the anxiety, soothing its burn like a cooling balm.
Till snorted at that. He felt his shoulders slacken. “Yeah,” Till muttered, “I will. Get me the lube, alright?” He traced a finger around the ring of muscle and dragged the digit down toward Ivan’s taint. Ivan huffed out a laugh, grabbed the discarded tube lying next to his pillow, and tossed it to Till. The bottle thunked into Till’s side, the man too distracted to play ball.
“You label me odd, but—”
“Shut it.”
Ivan laughed, louder this time. With a pout, Till squeezed the tube’s contents onto his fingers for the second time in the past few hours. He felt markedly more self-assured in those hours ago, when he had fingered himself open and forced the other man to watch and stay put. As he slipped a finger inside Ivan, he wondered where all the prior wind in his sails had gone. Ivan always had a knack for that, Till thought, of making him feel like a buffoon. Even in the moments where he mustered confidence, Ivan knocked it out of him, and he was stuck second-guessing all that he had just done; but even in those moments, where Till was caught up in his vulnerability and his wounded pride, Ivan still let him dominate. Between the two of them, Till wasn’t sure which one was stuck holding the leash. Perhaps they both were. Perhaps neither.
Till stuck his tongue out in concentration. By this point, having seen Till do this many times throughout their romps, Ivan was sure it was an instinctive response. Regardless, it made his chest—the pitch-black cavity it was—ooze with honeyed warmth. To think that Till would give him the same attentiveness he had given his artistic endeavors. It was a sacrosanct experience that Ivan would never dare to interrupt, choosing instead to watch Till in awe. He buried his head into the pillow beneath it and peered at the man from over his shoulder. His neck will be sore later, but it will be well worth it. It always was.
Till thrust his fingers in and out of Ivan, the action slick and smooth, Ivan’s depths inviting him, generous and willing. Just the feeling of Ivan’s internal heat was enough to drive him mad with lust, and he could feel his cock stir back to life. Till could recall every time he had been inside the man, and his dick ached from the phantom pleasure that resulted from his reminiscence.
With an air of restlessness, Ivan rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows. His legs closed around Till’s waist, the balls of his feet bumping into the man’s lower back. Ivan smiled up at him with the sharp gleam of a predator that had just fanged its prey. The creeping sensation of being ensnared washed over Till, leaving him feeling helpless and trapped within Ivan’s wicked grasp.
“We’re doing it raw?” He wheezed out, though he already knew the answer.
“Always.”
Nose scrunched, Till stuck out his tongue in disgust; memories of late nights suffered from stomach cramps floated to mind. “I don’t know how you do it.” Ivan only shrugged in response.
“You said it best: I enjoy being used.”
Till paused, he knocked his head against Ivan’s shoulder and scrubbed his forehead against the skin—as if to shake himself free of mind. “You know I don’t mean what I say, not when I’m all riled up.”
“Do you ever?”
Till nipped at the joint. “We’re not doing this right now.”
Ivan only hummed in acknowledgment, a low vibration that rumbled through his chest in a noncommittal timbre. Till was too easy to provoke, he thought. Shouldn’t he know by now that Ivan enjoyed anything Till directed towards him, be it an insult or otherwise? Not that he planned on ever conveying that to the other man; a sulking Till was an adorable, timid one.
With a sour expression, Till sent Ivan a glare. He seemed to deliberate something—hesitancy flickering in his eyes—but before Ivan could ponder the matter, Till pressed a chaste, trembling kiss to his cheek. While Ivan froze in shock, Till seized the opportunity to slide himself inside the man, his length parting Ivan with ease—far different from the burning stretch Ivan’s larger, weightier cock had caused him prior.
“What the—don’t tighten up!”
Ivan pulled Till’s head into the crook of his neck to hide his fractured poise. “Keep going. Don’t tell me you can’t.” He spoke, goading, hoping Till was none the wiser to his plight.
Till mocked Ivan under his breath in a theatrical display of defiance before moving his hips and inching further within the enveloping bliss. Ivan, using his feet, shepherded Till through it—hooking and reeling him inward until he could feel the man snug, balls-deep inside. Ivan sighed then, as if he’d been anxious all night until this point. As he felt him relax, Till couldn’t help but smile against Ivan’s neck. He relished in Ivan’s constricting warmth with an unhurried sway, dipping himself in and out with ease. He could hear a quiet hitch in Ivan’s breath break free with each rolling wave—could feel Ivan’s steady pulse thump against his lips. Ivan carded his fingers through Till’s hair reverently, ran his index down the shell of his ear, and held Till’s earlobe between thumb and forefinger in a gentle, mindless caress. Till clenched his jaw, overcome with emotion.
“You’re impossible.” Till rolled his head aside and rested his cheek against Ivan’s shoulder to cast a glare at the man.
“Hm?” Ivan lazily blinked at him.
Till squinted his eyes at Ivan’s confused expression, trying to decipher its authenticity, before he exhaled and shook his head.
“Forget it.” He closed his eyes and focused on the sensation alone. Ivan watched his face with languid interest and went back to petting Till unperturbed. He ran his hand down Till’s nape, stroking the hills of his vertebrae, before he brought his fingers back up through Till’s locks and softly massaged his fingertips into the man’s skull.
Till’s face crumpled into a look that bordered on pain. That Ivan wasn’t even aware of what he was doing made it that much more unbearable for him to endure, he thought. At this rate, Till was going to fall asleep prematurely, ejaculate prematurely, or die prematurely because of his heart giving out from exhaustion; he was at a crossroads, and each winding road ahead was worse than the last. He increased his speed, a deviation from the domestic lull he and Ivan had just been nursing.
“Are you feeling impatient?” Ivan asked, a smile in his voice. He thumbed at Till’s temple as he spoke, his touch faint.
“It’s your fault.” Till grumbled. He bit Ivan’s clavicle—a temporary outlet for his growing frustration.
“You’re projecting.”
“I’m not! You—” Till sat up and glowered down at the other man. “You really piss me off.” He angled his hips away, as far as he could manage with Ivan’s legs anchoring him so close, before plunging deep into the man. “You think you’re slick, acting all cute?”
Ivan’s lashes fluttered in surprise, his smile falling away. “What?”
“You heard me.” Till squeezed one of Ivan’s areolas, the nipple inside popping out, erect. Ivan’s eyes flicked down, one eyebrow twitching in barely suppressed mortification from the sight.
“I heard you, yes, but I don’t understand—” he winced as Till combined a hard thrust with a flick of the nub, and Ivan felt as if a thunderbolt had struck him from head to toe, “what you mean?”
Till clicked his tongue. “You touch me like I’ll disappear. I won’t, you know?”
“Excuse me?”
Till hiked Ivan up by his thighs, angling his ass a little higher to deepen their coupling. While slowing to a grind, he spoke, “Don’t play dumb.” His fingers rolled Ivan’s nipple in lazy circles, an unconscious, self-soothing gesture to steel himself for the next line uttered: “I— . . . I’m telling you I’m here to stay. Got it?”
“No? I’m afraid I don’t know what brought this on, Till.”
At his wit’s end, Till trailed his fingers from Ivan’s chest, wisping past the curve of his neck, up to the side of his face. He stroked Ivan’s cheek with the back of his hand and brushed stray hairs behind the man’s ear. He rubbed at the delicate skin under Ivan’s lobe, wandering his touch to trace his helix feather-light. Ivan’s expression grew tense. His eyes wavered in search of Till’s own.
“Till I—” He swallowed, voice thick.
Till kissed away the quiver from Ivan’s bottom lip. They’d done enough arguing for tonight, he supposed. He clumsily patted the pillow behind Ivan’s head intending to fluff it, then motioned them both until Ivan lay flat beneath him, with Till hovering directly above in a shadow’s embrace. Now, Till could see them clearly: the paper-thin fractures in Ivan’s finely polished mask; beneath those crevices, blanketed under the comforting veil of dark, were the flickering twin glimmers of fear and doubt—yet, nothing but a trick of the light to onlookers passersby. He slid Ivan’s hand into his and held it firm, stomaching the seasick churns of embarrassment that the intimate gesture had stirred within, and even then, Ivan’s grip was tighter still.
With his free hand, Till slid it from Ivan’s face and returned to toying with the man’s nipples. He focused on attending to the one he had disregarded, pinching at the surrounding tissue and pulling until the other bud emerged free. Till felt his dick throb at the sight, and he was sure Ivan had felt it too, given the rare, bashful expression that surfaced on his face. Ivan wrapped an arm around the back of Till’s neck and pulled him close enough to kiss. Till grazed his fingers down Ivan’s side before wrapping his hand around the man’s thick, neglected cock. In time with his thrusts, Till pumped the shaft—up, down, up—with the slick twist of his wrist, Ivan’s pre-cum allowing for a seamless glide. Ivan’s breath fell hot against Till’s cheek, adding to the sweltering heat between the press of their bodies. Ivan caught the sweat dripping down Till’s chin with his tongue as if a man parched.
“Till.”
“I hear you.”
“Till.”
“I’m here.”
Ivan had tried, and failed, to stifle the whimper that slipped through, but Till’s mouth sealed over his, swallowing the sound down for him in the smallest act of mercy. At the loving gesture, Ivan’s body went utterly still, muscles pulled taut as waves of pleasure rolled through his frame. Till could feel every clench of Ivan pulsing around his cock, milking him with every spasm. His heels dug into Till’s back, holding him captive in a possessive embrace—and he, a willing prisoner, acquiesced. Till blinked back the sting of his own tears as he stroked Ivan, coaxing him through the aftershocks. With careful thrusts, he rocked into smothering silk, building his own ecstasy until it had reached bursting, the subsequent rush of release numbing his mind. Against his lips, Ivan felt Till mouth words that tasted like love’s confession.
Arms giving out, Till collapsed onto Ivan. He could feel the horrid squelch as wet cum squished between them, yet couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. Ivan rested his cheek against the side of Till’s head. They both lay there, slippery with sweat and heaving ragged breaths, until their hearts calmed. Ivan had returned to petting Till, and the tranquility it brought nearly lulled him to sleep. Forcing his eyes open, Till sat up. Knowing what was to come, Ivan let out a quiet whine in protest, but ultimately let Till escape free from his clutch.
Till pulled out, unwilling yet too exhausted for another round, and watched as milk-white cum oozed out from Ivan’s depths. He stared for a moment more before unceremoniously plopping back onto Ivan’s body. Once he had, Ivan wrapped his arms around Till’s waist, latching back onto him, though the limbs that clung differed. Till felt his eyes flutter closed, the siren song of sleep beckoning him to oblivion. As he slept, Ivan murmured silent confessions against his skin—a response to Till’s own.
Ivan himself was a man who held little sway in his life; yet, he would relinquish control forevermore so long as it meant Till would remain right here, in his orbit. May his gravitational pull remain strong in the many light-years to come.