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It all starts when he's in his first year.
It's innocuous at first. Just small shadows at the corner of his eyes, sometimes looking like crawly bugs.
He goes down a rabbit hole on the internet and learns about eye floaters after the tenth time, but he's far too young for that to be it, and it stops a little bit after that, so he just shrugs it off as an odd phenomenon and moves on.
And then it escalates.
The more that he tries to catch them, the more they escape. A shadow here, a weird blob there. He goes to the optometrist three times in three months. It worries his mother too much though, so after changing his prescription, he decides to keep it to himself.
Weirdly enough, it gets better for a while.
He still sees things out of the corner of his eye, but he learns to live with it, so it doesn't bother him anymore.
The shadows start taking shape. It catches him completely unprepared when he sees Him for the first time.
It's a tall young man. Dark hair, dark eyes. He wears all white and he has a snaggletooth. He can't really rationalize naming a grown man, so he just decides to call him That Guy.
That Guy becomes a companion to him.
He's a bit of a loner, so he doesn't mind. He knows he's the only one that can see him after the first few embarrassing occasions where he was sure he was real.
He feels That Guy around him, even when he's not in his line of sight. Often, when he's drawing or composing, he can feel a weight against his back and knows it's Him.
He grows comfortable with Him. No longer ashamed of being naked around what he knows it's just his brain being funky. He wonders if maybe he should get checked out for his constant hallucinations of a man he's never met, but quickly disperses the thought. It's not harming him, or interfering with his life so it should be fine, right?
He showers with His company. Sometimes, when he has an epiphany, he gasps out loud and tells Him to write it down. He smiles, tooth catching on his lower lip, and actually pulls out a small notebook and writes on it.
At night, he feels His presence behind him in bed, sticking close to his body, His hand over Till’s waist, His breath against his hair. Sometimes, Till feels the ghost of a touch when his hand is down his pants, working his cock up and down frantically, desperately trying to get himself off.
He sleeps very well those nights.
It's near the end of the year when he starts hearing Him too. It feels almost like a holiday gift, to finally be able to talk to the person who's kept him company all this time.
His voice is velvet smooth, and it sends goosebumps down Till's spine for reasons he can't quite parse. It's especially efficient when That Guy says Till's name.
On a random Tuesday morning, Till is showering, and That Guy joins him in the bathroom. He's sitting on the bathroom counter, only partially visible through the foggy stall in between them.
“Till.” He says. He says Till's name a lot. It seems to be His favorite word. When he's being stubborn though, or when he ignores Him, he's often called a blockhead. “Tilly.”
Till hums, conditioner in his hair and soap suds moving down his body. That Guy never crossed the line to join Till in the shower, but that day, he felt His breath against his neck, and he shivers. “Till.”
He immediately snaps to attention, but That Guy is still at the countertop, smiling softly, eyes as dark as ever, the picture of innocence.
For a while, Till thought maybe That Guy was a ghost. He bought a ouija board and everything to try and make him rest in peace. But That Guy merely chuckled, snuggled against Till's side from where he sat on the floor, and whispered, over and over, “Till.”
Now, after feeling that breath against his neck, he wonders if maybe he was right all along, and That Guy is a spirit and not Whatever weird hallucination he is.
He did research about hallucinations too. The types and causes, and although he knows That Guy is a multimodal one, occupying most of his senses he can't figure out why he's seeing Him.
He rubs a hand against the spot in his neck and rushes to wash his hair. He feels oddly shy, naked, with Him. Something he hasn't felt in months. He shakes himself off and relaxes. It's just Him.
While he's dressing himself for the day, it occurs to him that he's never bothered to ask for his name.
He turns to his right, finding That Guy's tall frame almost pressed against his half naked form. “I never asked if you have a name.”
That Guy hums. “Then ask.”
Till huffs and scowls a little. He's all long limbed and awkward against that Bastard’s firm form. He knows That Guy is baiting him, playing with him, but he bites. “Do you have a name? What is it?”
That Guy smiles wide. It doesn't soften him in the slightest.
“Tilly may call me Ivan.”
Till somehow scowls harder. “Stop calling me that.” Ivan, that jerk, merely maintains a smile, eyes creased in half moons.
Ivan crowds him further, body nearly touching Till's. Till knows, from experience, that he won't feel much of anything if he reaches for Ivan, not even a cold current. Ivan seems to have to consciously make an effort to be tactile. Instead, he's left in this half-existing sensation, the ghost of a press, just the suggestion of touch. It thrills him.
Till's breath catches, and he turns to continue dressing, suddenly a little too conscious of his half dressed state. He misses the way Ivan looks down on his body.
Ivan, he thinks, Ivan. It suits him.
—
Till doesn't mind Ivan's presence. He doesn't mind His touch, His caresses. Which is interesting, because when most people reach for him, he tenses before forcefully relaxing against it.
Maybe it's because Ivan's presence slowly crept up on him that he doesn't mind. Maybe it's because he's so used to being half-touched by not really there hands. He's not yet ready to wonder if maybe it's because he wishes he could feel Ivan in his entirety.
That is all to say that Till gets invited to a Christmas party. And Ivan did not want him to go. He made it very clear by clenching his jaw and hissing through his teeth that Till does not belong with them.
So Till went, spitefully.
It's packed, and highly uncomfortable to have so many bodies pressed against his. He sticks to the corners, enjoying his illegally acquired drink. The alcohol hits him fast, but he enjoys the buzz that comes from it, and slowly nurses his cup.
He still feels touched all over, which is a bit of a sensory nightmare, until he feels a familiar touch. He relaxes against Ivan's not-quite-there body and sneaks a glance to the side. Ivan towers over all the 14 to 17 year olds around them. It makes Till wonder if he was shorter as a teenager, or if he ever was one.
Ivan's gaze is dark. He slowly blinks and gives Till a once over. The loose and ripped tank top he wears shows off one singular nipple that, in this specific setting, is making Till just a little bit self conscious, but he's a bit too buzzed to properly care.
Suddenly, Ivan vanishes. Till wonders if he's still mad about him coming to the party. But it's only natural, isn't it? To go to these kinds of parties, play stupid drinking games and make awful choices?
Till panics for a second, before familiar hands lock around his waist and tug him. His shirt flutters against the touch.
Till shivers and the hands tracing his ribs disappear.
He gets called to a drinking game, and one of the girls gets a bit touchy with him. His heartbeat is fast against her hands. It's awkward and tentative. She throws her head back to laugh and rests her bare thigh against Till's. His stomach swoops, but he's unsure if it's due to her or just general anxiety.
Suddenly, he feels a hand on his groin.
He nearly jumps in place, but he recognizes the slightly chilly touch as Ivan's, and surreptitiously looks around to see him. Ivan isn't anywhere to be seen, but he's certainly felt.
The girl leans in in Till's space again, and he smiles and nods without paying much attention, because! Because now the hands are caressing his thighs and massaging them. Thick, strong fingers working the cords of his muscles and making his legs tremble. His chest rises and falls rapidly. The girl smiles wide and presses a chaste kiss against his lips right there, in the middle of everyone. And Till gasps because suddenly his nipples are being harshly tugged and toyed with.
The girl leans away and giggles. It was Till's first kiss but he literally can't even remember her face because all he can think of is the hands running up and down his sides, cupping his barely there pecs, squeezing his thighs and moving up, up, up towards his dick and ah! bypassing it entirely.
His limbs shake and he stammers a response to something someone asked but he could not, for the life of him, tell you what was said.
And the hands. They simply don't stop. Instead, they get bolder. The barely there touch gets rougher until Ivan is all but tugging Till to get up and move.
When it gets too much, Till gets up, makes a vague excuse about needing some air and leaves the room.
Dazed, he climbs stairs to who knows where and enters the first unlocked room he can find. There's still hands working on his skin, now more firmly. He barely has the mind to lock the door before his zipper is being tugged down, his shirt being pushed up and bunched against his lips, a sign for him to bite, exposing his ribcage and chest to the air.
He gasps and he can already feel drool pooling in his mouth and staining his shirt. He moans when he feels wetness against his nipple, and he's thankful for the music outside and the fabric muffling his noises.
His cock bulges against his underwear as he's being tugged and pulled by unseen insistent hands.
He's pushed against a small twin bed, and before he knows it, his pants and underwear are off. His dick bobs in the air, curving slightly to the right and very wet at the tip.
He whines, and he still can't see Ivan. Yet he feels him everywhere. He feels Ivan's large hand against his much smaller cock. Feels his wet mouth lapping at his nipples, his teeth tugging on them.
His own hands are clenching at the bedsheets beneath him. He's letting out the most pathetic little noises he's ever made, embarrassment filling him from the inside out at how loud he is, how weird his moaning must be, how high pitched and needy. He feels like one of the girls from the porn he's managed to surreptitiously watch, debauched and used. And Ivan hasn't even begun.
Suddenly, he hears his name being chanted in his ears, echoing inside his brain.
“Till, Till, Till, Till.” Ivan groans. And Till feels something against his leg, rubbing up and down.
He moans and mewls, singing a melody of pleasure to no one's ears but Ivan's.
Tentatively, he reaches up, hands finding nothing, and he sobs. His balls tighten on the next upstroke, and stars explode behind his eyes when Ivan bites around his nipple, leaving a pretty bite mark decorating his left areola, with an extra deep indentation from the unmistakable snaggletooth.
Till is panting, spent, shirt still stuck in his mouth, eyes and cock wet.
The shirt gets tugged from his mouth and pushed up and behind his head, keeping him in an odd armlock, unable to reach down. His hands grip the headboard when Ivan makes himself visible.
He still wears the same white suit, but it's clearly tented in the crotch area.
“Ivan.” He sobs, relieved at being able to see him. “Ivan, you bastard, c'mon.” He's not fully aware of what he's asking for though.
Ivan groans, and his hands press down with force against Till's ribs and sides. He's always been skinny and lanky, but now, naked and compared with Till's larger build, he feels dainty. Delicate.
It makes his cock twitch, which doesn't fall unnoticed to Ivan.
Ivan descends on his mouth, using and abusing the hot wet cavern, teasing and coaxing Till's tongue, licking against his palate and mapping his way around. He doesn't leave Till a chance to catch up. It's so filthy and debauched. Till feels cheap and used, and it absolutely travels down to his groin.
A thread of saliva stays between them as Ivan pants against Till's gaping mouth. The bulge of his pants rub harder against Till's leg, pressing down and not letting Till mistake the length for anything other than what it is, proof that Ivan is getting off on this. A small surge of power thrums through him.
“Ivan.” He mumbles, a small smile teasing on the edges of his mouth. “Were you jealous?”
The power trip doesn't last long, because soon Ivan is forcing three fingers inside Till's mouth, playing with his tongue and coaxing him to take them deeper, murmuring soft reassurances against Till's ear.
“Shh Tilly, you're doing so well. Taking my fingers in your perfect little mouth.” He speaks, voice rough and deep. “You'll take every inch of my cock too, sweetheart.”
With that, Till whines and his cock splurts cum against his already dirtied stomach.
Ivan chuckles darkly. “Yeah, baby? You want it? Want to choke on me?” He presses a kiss against Till's cheek. “You will.”
And before he's ready, Ivan is already climbing up the too small bed and framing Till's face with his thighs, making him face to face with the large bulge in Ivan's pants. He licks his lips. He's never thought about men before, let alone sucking another's… cock, but suddenly he's salivating, mouth already opening and tongue tentatively licking on the fabric.
Ivan moans and edges just a tad bit closer, so Till can mouth against the side and dampen the fabric with his copious drool. It's not long before he's pushed down and Ivan's pulling his thick cock out.
And it's so pretty. Porn doesn't show cock as pretty as this. He whines again, and hopes he's not too loud to be heard outside the room. Ivan chuckles and holds his own member. It's just a tad longer than Till's face, and he wants it in his mouth.
Without being asked, his mouth drops open, tongue lolling out. Ivan wastes no time in making a home for his dick inside Till's wet, warm mouth.
He immediately struggles with it, throat already closing around the slight intrusion. But Ivan guides him through it, gently inching himself further down Till's throat until his hands are smacking against one another and the bedding in a desperate plea.
Even then, Ivan keeps pushing past Till's untrained throat’s limits, until he's sure that the bastard will for sure puncture something. He doesn't, though, instead, he pulls back and slowly thrusts back in with a groan.
He uses those slow, baby thrusts to acclimatize Till with the feel and weight of his cock, and increases his tempo and the strength behind his thrusts when he feels Till can take it.
Till's head gets fuzzy with it. He can barely believe that he's doing any of this. Just moments ago he had his first peck with a girl and now he's sloppily sucking a man's dick, moaning and drooling all over himself. Does it even count if Ivan is not real? Does this make him gay?
He doesn't have any extra seconds to spare a thought to it, because soon Ivan is truly fucking his open mouth, and using his hand to stroke the rest of the length that he can't quite fit inside Till's mouth. The sounds are wet, and Till can hear his own desperate little wheezes of breath even amidst the sound of wet flesh meeting flesh.
Ivan's voice is so grave as he moans and groans while pleasuring himself with Till's body, it does something unexplainable to Till. It makes that same familiar heat build inside his body, starting from the contact point in the back of his throat and travelling all the way down his body to his cock.
He feels warm all over, half hard dick struggling to firm up again. It's far too soon for him to come once more, but his body is sure trying. The heat builds in him as Ivan takes his pleasure from his mouth. It's insurmountable, with no escape in sight, and on one of Ivan's deeper grinds against Till's face, something happens in his body, because he seizes, eyes rolling back with a muffled moan attempting to escape around Ivan's cock.
Ivan stops and notices. The bastard smirks when Till's eyes flutter open. Immediately he wants to scowl and push him away, but Ivan grabs onto Till's hair and pushes the last bit of his length inside Till's fucked open mouth. He chokes and gags, but feels so elated at having taken it all that he doesn't even care.
When Ivan pulls out, Till spits and coughs. Saliva and pre come mixing and bubbling out of his mouth. The bastard shushes and comforts him, all while slowly climbing down his body.
Till's arms hurt, so he shimmies out of the shirt still restraining him, and lets his hands hover over Ivan. He's afraid to try and touch him and not feel anything again. Sensing his hesitation, Ivan himself grabs his hand and guides it to his own shoulder, squeezing it. It feels solid under his palms, warm.
Ivan continues his path downwards, reaching Till's crotch. Till expects hands, maybe a mouth, on his dick, but instead, his thighs get hiked up and pressed against his chest. Like this, Till feels incredibly exposed.
He catches a glimpse of Ivan licking his lips before he descends on Till.
He does not expect a mouth on his hole, though, and ends up squealing at the touch.
Fucking Ivan chuckles, puffs of his breath hitting right where Till is exposed and sensitive.
Ivan doesn't waste any more time. His broad tongue makes a swipe, followed by kitten licks of Till's rim. He sucks on it, and uses his hands to spread Till's cheeks further apart, to reach him properly.
His mouth is so wet. He slobbers all over Till's entrance, tongue slowly prodding and begging for entrance. Ivan starts murmuring when he's not using his tongue too. “Relax, Tilly.” He says, “Just relax for me and I'll slip right in in your tight hole.”
Till absolutely hates him. But he does take deep breaths to relax, consciously relaxing each muscle until he's more or less melted against the mattress.
“Good boy.” He hears that absolute ASSHOLE say. It most definitely doesn't do anything to him.
Finally, Ivan's tongue slips inside him, and they both moan at the sensation. Ivan is extremely messy with it, licking, slurping and sucking, all to make entry easier for his questing tongue. He thrusts it and curls it just on the inside of Till's entrance.
A finger starts prodding alongside the tongue. It's gentle and tentative, just circling the outer rim, pressing softly on the giving skin. When Ivan pulls his mouth away it's only to test the give under his finger. The first finger goes easily up to the second joint, finding just a small bit of resistance before it can fully sit inside Till. Ivan then makes come hither motions inside of him, curling and uncurling his finger. He moves it all around Till's entrance, circling the entire diameter of it before slowly adding a back and forth motion to it.
Till's brain feels like it'll completely melt out of his ears.
He had never ever even considered doing that to himself! None of the material he'd ever watched did this! They barely even showed the guy! He never even watched gay porn! Too embarrassed to click on it, even through his curiosity. Ivan was completely rewiring his neurons.
Ivan's tongue joined alongside the finger still exploring his passage, and since the… massage started, it has gradually become easier to take it. Ivan hums, sounding oddly proud of the outcome, and teases Till's rim with the tip of another finger, circling it around, pressing on the edges without entering, threatening to breach alongside the finger already inside him.
It goes on for long enough that Till gets restless. “Just… Put it in already! Stop playing! Stupid Ivan!” He complains, and uses his hanging foot to push against Ivan's shoulder.
Ivan looks up and, maintaining eye contact, pushes the second finger all the way in, and curls it inwards. Till jolts in place, and Ivan's face breaks into a smug smile.
“I found your little button, Till.”
He presses against his prostate over and over and over. Till had only had basic sex ed, and a very vague idea of what a prostate was. Now, he was distinctly aware of his own. Ivan, meanwhile, is doing the same circular motions around it that he did with his rim, before pressing hard against it. In response, Till arches, whines, and awkwardly rolls his hips against the sensation.
Ivan just chuckles at him and pulls his fingers out, using his now free hand to stretch Till's cheeks and watch his hole open and close around nothing. Till hides his face in his own shoulder. “Stop looking, you pervert!”
To which Ivan merely hums, before popping three fingers inside his own mouth and thoroughly coating them in saliva. All at once, he pushes them inside Till.
Till arches off the bed with a small shout that is quickly muffled by his own hands. He's too embarrassed by his reaction and noise to look at Ivan, so instead, he closes his eyes.
However, like this, he can feel with much more intensity how Ivan plays with him, loosening him up for something larger.
Ivan's tongue is back at lapping around Till's stretched hole when it hits Till. This is really it. He's 15, at a random Christmas party, in a stranger's room, with his fucking hallucination of an, admittedly, attractive man, three fingers and a tongue shoved inside his ass, completely naked and exposed while said man is fully dressed, with just his thick cock bobbing out.
He wants to laugh hysterically at his situation, and a giggle even threatens to build up inside him, but he can't focus on it at all with how insistently Ivan pushes on that spot inside him. It makes stars shoot behind his eyelids, and his hole throbs with the feeling, a similar pleasure running straight to his dick.
Ivan pulls back and admires his handywork, and lays a kiss against the furl of Till's fluttering hole before he readjusts their positions. He spreads Till's thighs to the sides, and inserts himself in between them, propping Till's lower back with a pillow.
He grabs his own member and just. Slaps it. Across Till's. Rubbing the far larger length against Till's (proportional! He's still growing!) teenage self. He drags it further down, past his sac, and rests the head against the still twitching opening.
“Ready?” He asks. A kindness.
Till opens his mouth to answer, and Ivan spears him in one thrust. He can't help the loud shout that escapes him.
His eyes sting with tears despite all the preparation Ivan has done on him. He holds back a hiccup and a sob at the feeling, but it must be clear in his face because Ivan bends over him, covering his body, and peppers kisses and caresses on whatever skin he can reach, murmuring apologies and reassurances.
Till is still sensitive when Ivan circles his hips and pulls just a smidge back. He trains Till on these micro thrusts just as he did inside his mouth, until Till grows comfortable and starts circling his hips back, looking for the angle that'll hit that good spot inside himself.
Ivan, noticing this, helps him. It's a small kindness that Ivan is bestowing upon him. His cock is long and thick as it stretches his rim, and it takes little to no effort to find Till's prostate with the both of them working together.
Till whimpers when Ivan does, slapping a hand over his own mouth to keep any sounds out. His legs dangle on the sides of Ivan's body, bouncing up and down with the movements that quickly gain speed and strength behind them.
Ivan stays bent over him, face directly above Till's, staring into his eyes and huffing puffs of air against Till's lips. Till lets out the most embarrassing little noises with every thrust, that soon get swallowed by Ivan's tongue invading his mouth.
It's far too much stimulation for him, so he comes once again, speared by cock and tongue. Ivan doesn't stop. If anything, he grows impossibly harder inside Till, thrusting roughly, faster. Till is far too aware of the ah, ah, ah’s escaping him with the whimpers. He's mortified by his reaction, especially since his dick barely softened at all since he came.
Ivan pulls back from the sloppy kiss, and sits up so he can properly look at Till's debauched state. He pushes Till's legs a bit up, and even farther apart, eyes zeroing on where they're joined. Till can just imagine how wide he's stretched around that large cock. How puffy his hole must be, how red.
Ivan, bastard that he is, describes it to him. And it's just as he imagined. Ivan reaches with two fingers to touch where they're joined, where he's still thrusting inside him, making Till moan. The fingers circle the edge, pressing against it, eager to join his cock.
Till shakes his head no, mumbling. “Too much, ‘s too much, I can't, it'll rip.” Even as he moans and imagines just how much farther he can stretch.
Ivan ignores him and hooks his fingertips inside him, pulling his rim farther to the sides. “Look, Till. Look how much you can fit.”
Trembling, eyes wet with tears, Till threatens a look down. His cock is in the way though, and noticing it, Ivan rearranges him, hiking up his hips so he's fucking up into Till's body, before hooking his fingers in his hole and stretching it apart again so he can see better.
Till's head knocks back against the bed with a groan, and Ivan merely chuckles. He pulls out entirely, making Till's gaping entrance attempt futilely to close.
Ivan coos at the sight. “It's like you're calling me back.” He thrusts back in, hard, and repeats it over and over, completely pulling out before sheathing himself back in, all the way to the hilt, balls slapping against Till's butt.
He doesn't spend too long like that, preferring to pick up a brutally fast pace, interspersed with random moments of him grinding inside Till, making it unmistakable the sheer length of the cock inside him. Till's cock twitches every time he does that.
So obviously Ivan does it a lot. At least until Till's feeble legs circle his hips and twitch in an attempt to pull Ivan closer. He's far too sensitive and weak to accomplish it, but the message gets across, and soon Ivan is thrusting non stop. Till nearly regrets it. It's incredibly overwhelming to have something so large inside him, hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust. Even if Ivan wasn't hitting it head on, he's still so large that Till can feel it as aftershocks.
His cock valiantly twitches and spurts more come from the tip, making an even bigger wet mess. He looks down, and, to his horror, he can see a bulge in his lower stomach every time Ivan bottoms out. Gingerly, he presses a hand against it, and the next time Ivan thrusts, he can feel it inside and out.
Impossibly, he comes again, but nothing actually comes out of his dick anymore. His body just seizes and shakes like it did before. Ivan soothes him, but doesn't slow down at all. There's humor in his voice though, and it pisses Till off.
Also, when will that bastard come?! It's been so long already! He lost count of how many times he came. How many times his mind went blank and imploded with pleasure. Now he can feel soreness starting to spread in him, and still Ivan doesn't stop. In fact, with every plea and begging to slow down, to let him breathe, it seems it only eggs Ivan on to go faster, harder, rougher.
Till kicks his heel against Ivan's back. Feeble and weak, but still, he tries. “Just come already!” He wants it to be forceful, but he sounds so overwhelmed and needy, that it slips from his lips like a plea.
Ivan laughs. “All you had to do was ask, and I would fill your pussy, Till.”
Till is mortified to have his abused hole called a pussy, but with how it's being utterly used, he can't really deny it. He especially can't deny how it makes him feel when he lets out a moan at the word.
Ivan lets his fingers unhook from his hole and grips Till's legs instead. The muscles on his inner thighs burn with the stretch, and he nearly sobs in relief when Ivan rearranges them so they hang over his shoulders.
Ivan's thrusts are still brutal and rough inside him, bullying his way into Till's body like… like he's nothing more than an eager bitch, begging to be filled. At this moment, Till can't deny the whore allegations. Not with how he moans and sobs for it.
Ivan pounds him, mercilessly, and Till gets impossibly louder.
Suddenly, banging can be heard on the door. And Ivan doesn't stop. If anything, he gets a wicked gleam in his eyes and corrects his aim to hit Till's prostate on every thrust.
“Is someone in there?” He hears. Panicked, he slaps both hands on his mouth and presses down hard so none of his slutty sounds can escape.
“Dude I swear I heard some noises coming from there.”
“You must be tripping.” A second voice answers. And Ivan grinds against Till's prostate.
“You're gonna cum again for me, Till?” He whispers. Till's eyes water, he shakes his head no. But Ivan sneaks a hand down to Till's cock and plays with the head. “I think you will.”
“No way! It was loud too! Like some girl was getting the fuck of a lifetime!” At that, Ivan laughs and presses a fingertip against Till's slit. His other hand presses down on Till's throat.
Laughter fades as the voices move away from the door.
Ivan's hand on his throat presses down harder, his cock hits his prostate over and over and over. And the tip of his finger plays with the slit on his cock head.
He breathes against Till's ear. A single word command. “Come.” And Till obeys.
It's by far the strongest orgasm of his life. He's lucky that his throat is too sore, because otherwise, his scream would've been heard all the way down to the neighbors’ houses.
And then Ivan groans and fills him. Till is pretty sure he has a minor, second orgasm at the feeling of being fucked full of cum, but he'll deny it until his dying days.
Ivan pulls out and watches come trickle from the gaping, puffy hole. His eyes gleam and he disappears from view. Till only doesn't panic because he can still feel Ivan's unseen body climbing all over his own.
He's too weak to fight him when he does it, so Ivan easily manages to prop Till up. It's only then that he notices the mirror angled to show the foot of the bed.
With how spread his legs still are, it's impossible to miss it. It's unmistakable that Ivan abused him thoroughly. Not when his entrance is trying and failing to close around nothing. It's definitely not disappointment that strikes him that there's no cum leaking out of him. It would be messy to clean and difficult to hide. He already knows it'll be obvious by how he walks that he was used as a fleshlight.
He's not even sure how a hallucination managed to do this level of damage on him, but it's impossible to deny the leftovers on his body. He's a bit fascinated by the state of his entrance, and inches a finger to touch it. The skin is hot and very sensitive to touch.
He can't stop staring at how his hole winks open and closed. Something itches inside him, and he notices how he can still feel Ivan's touch on his hip, tracing circles and random shapes.
He feels Ivan sigh and sag against him and finally closes his aching legs.
He moves to get up, and falls twice back down on the bed before managing to sit properly. His pants are near the end of the bed, and his shirt is still near the pillow
He reaches for the shirt first, slowly, afraid of pulling a muscle after such a heavy workout, and puts it back on. The rips in it show off the exact hole where his nipple is bitten, and most of the finger shaped bruises on his sides are visible.
Well, fuck.
His pants, at the very least, will be able to cover all of that.
He aches incredibly so when he stretches to grab them, and even more when he attempts to put them on. He grimaces, and that seems to be enough to elicit pity in Ivan, because he starts helping him. Till sighs in relief.
Once he's finally dressed, he slowly gets up. It's awful. He's bow legged and can't seem to take a single step without trembling. His lower back aches something fierce, and he is absolutely throbbing. Even his dick is sensitive to the fabric of his underwear.
He puts his ear against the door to make sure no one is outside before opening it and shakily making his way down the hallway. Music still blasts downstairs, and he can hear laughter and chatting.
Okay. If he's quick he can be out and on his way home without anyone noticing.
For once, luck is mainly on his side. He sticks close to the wall as he climbs down the stairs with a grimace, and the stairs are close to the front door, so he is out in mere moments.
He sags against the door.
The less said about how he wobbled his way home, the better.
His mom is already asleep by the time he gets back. A silver lining to this entire night.
He heads to the ensuite bathroom in his room, holding himself against every surface to take his clothes off, and finally surveys the damage.
Ivan did a number on him. There's so many marks on him that he's more mark than boy. And those are the ones he can see.
He turns a bit to the side and pulls his cheek to the side. Yep. Hole still puffy and red. The sight arouses him a little, making his face flush, but he is abso-fucking-lutely not thinking of it. And of how he wants to be filled again.
Ivan is behind him, touching him, and helping expose him. He hums, extremely pleased, and presses a finger inside Till. “Still loose. Good.”
Till slaps his hand away, ignoring how his breath hitched at the idea of being touched again.
The warm water of the shower is a balm against his skin. He sags under the spray and closes his eyes.
A mistake, because he snaps them open when he feels Ivan press his entire naked body against Till's back. He can very much feel how excited Ivan is.
“No.” He says, attempting to sound firm. But the sound is meek.
Ivan pushes slightly on his shoulder, and guides Till's hands to rest against the tile. He kicks Till's feet to spread his legs and takes himself in hand.
“Ivan, wait-” He tries again, but it devolves into a moan when Ivan makes a home for himself inside Till again. Warm water slides in between their bodies.
Ivan doesn't move, instead, he just sits there, and gently rolls his hips. It still makes Till let out little mewls and pleas.
This time, though, Ivan is kind. He milks Till's prostate until watery come spills from Till's cock, and pulls out. He cleans Till right in the spot he's left in, leaning against the tiles, then furns off the shower and dries him.
Till's legs are trembling even worse now. He sneaks a glance to the side and can see that Ivan is still hard. He doesn't think about offering himself, despite how he wants to.
Instead, he hobbles to his bed and lies on his side. He sags against the comfortable and familiar feeling of his bed. And snuggles closer when he feels the equally as familiar feeling of Ivan against his back.
He's made of a sleeve again, but this time, he only warms Ivan's cock, with merely a small noise of complaint at the burn on his rim.
He's too tired to fight Ivan on it though, and falls asleep before Ivan does anything else.
His heart flutters, even as the last thought he has before sleep claims him is Bastard Ivan…