Work Text:
Two months, twenty-nine days, seventy minutes and four seconds.
That’s how long Ivan and Till have been dating.
Ivan should be happy. He’s got himself an edgy boyfriend, emo down to the nails, a little hard to read… Damn, yeah, that’s the dream.
They eat together now and then, Ivan has already spent the night at Till’s tiny student apartment where the bed is way too small for two people, they’ve kissed, they call each other at night, and they even share a widget where they send photos, little drawings…
But they still haven’t gone to third base.
Ivan’s not the kind of guy who cares about that. Normally, with his ex-girlfriends, he would just let time do its thing. Most of the time, they were the ones to initiate anything physical anyway, and then break up with him a few weeks later like they’d ticked off some achievement. Another trophy. A video game achievement.
Till’s not like that.
First of all, he’s Ivan’s first boyfriend. Since arriving at university, Ivan’s had plenty of girls show interest in him. Cheerleaders, mostly, but also girls from outside his department , science majors, math nerds, law students, even girls in art school… The last one, Marty, a junior a year below him, had even brought a friend along for moral support in case she got rejected.
And that’s when Ivan met Till.
The first time his eyes landed on Till, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling.
Till was wearing a thick, oversized khaki jacket lined with worn-out fake fur that made him look like a lost musician or a street survivor. Underneath, there was a white t-shirt covered in abstract shapes, black lines that looked like scratches or shattered glass. And over it all, a green plaid shirt, unbuttoned, thrown on like an afterthought.
He was wearing a bunch of necklaces. Silver chains, a black choker with spikes, and a guitar pick turned pendant. What really changed everything for Ivan were the piercings. A single labret piercing gave Till this illusion of a little fang, just like Ivan’s own. His ears were covered in metal, probably ten piercings between both sides.
Ivan, who had never really cared about college romance or boys in general, suddenly found himself:
One, rethinking his entire sexuality (because, wow, all those bad relationships finally made a lot more sense. It wasn’t him. It just wasn’t guys).
Two, falling for someone completely not his type… and liking him more and more every day.
After rejecting Marty, (gently, of course) Ivan started using his connections and his wide social network as a football player to figure out who Till was and, most importantly, which route he usually took across campus, so he could just happen to bump into him.
Surprisingly, he and Till had clicked pretty fast.
Ivan had pretended he needed help with an art project, something bonus that would help him pass the semester, and Till had seen right through it. He told him to fuck off.
But Ivan, seasoned athlete that he was, didn’t back down from that kind of failure. He started off with coffee bribes, then adjusted his daily routine so he could have lunch at the cafeteria with the artsy student. That’s how he found out Till was twenty-one, wanted to major in musicology, had formed a small rock band with some friends, and (interesting detail), was a terrible kisser.
After a few weeks of flirting and getting cussed out by Till every time Ivan’s teasing got too suggestive, he finally managed to steal a kiss. He knew he had won when Till just stammered instead of swearing at him. Even better, when he leaned in for a second kiss.
From that point on, their relationship started to grow, and it still is. They keep going out for coffee, getting dinner together, and slowly, things became more natural. Ivan started spending time at Till’s place. Till would come over to his. They kissed, called each other at night, and eventually added a widget to their phones so they could send selfies and dumb little drawings back and forth.
But they still haven’t gone past kissing.
The thing is, Till’s a master of the sudden disappearance act. The second one of Ivan’s friends gets within a hundred meters, Till vanishes. He always has a good excuse for not coming to Ivan’s games or practices and stays pretty private when it comes to other people. He prefers dates in quiet spots far from campus and hasn’t even saved Ivan’s number with a cute contact name.
Ivan gets it. Being the center of attention isn’t always fun, and he respects that boundary of his. Still, after all their make-out sessions, he can’t help wanting a little more.
He’s tried everything. Whispering into Till’s ear to make him melt, greeting him shirtless straight out of the shower, dropping innuendos over text with just the right selfie to drive the point home…
And it’s not like Till doesn’t react. Ivan can tell he’s into him too. But every time things start to heat up, Till pulls away, finds an excuse, slips into the bathroom or claims he has to go.
Ivan doesn’t want to be pushy. He really likes Till, and the last thing he wants is for everything to end after one clumsy hookup. So he decides to do the one thing that solves ninety-five percent of relationship problems.
Talk.
Worst case scenario? Till shuts down, goes back to ignoring him, and they break up. Ivan’s left heartbroken for the rest of the school year.
No big deal, right?
***
Ivan gently knocks on Till’s dorm door.
It’s nearly 10 p.m. He just finished practice, took a quick shower in the locker room, and swung by the Chinese place next to campus to grab some Peking duck. Now he’s here, warm takeout bag in hand, heart thudding just a little faster than usual.
Tonight, they’re supposed to watch a movie Till’s been wanting to show him for a while. If things go well, maybe Till will feel comfortable enough to talk, and they can clear the air between them.
Even if Till doesn’t want to be intimate that way, Ivan figures it’s not the end of the world. For one, he’s more than capable of handling things on his own when necessary. But mostly, it’s just that everything feels so different with Till.
For the first time since he started college, Ivan feels like he’s being loved for who he is, not what he represents. Not for the jock, not for the popularity, not for the image.
If giving up sex means getting to see Till every day and feel that kind of love, then fine, it’s a trade he’s willing to make.
(Even if, to be honest, he would kind of like to go there with Till. His outfits are ridiculously cute, and his body drives Ivan wild. That raspy voice probably sounds incredible when he whines and…)
The door opens.
Ivan pauses to take in the sight in front of him.
Till’s wearing a fitted black ribbed tank top, snug in all the right ways, the neckline low enough to show off his collarbones and his signature spiked choker, the one he wore the day they met, the one he pairs with nearly every outfit. Over that, a loose burgundy flannel shirt hangs open on his shoulders, like he threw it on absentmindedly while rolling out of bed.
His thin arms are wrapped in a few black fabric bracelets, and his nails are painted a chipped shade of deep blue.
His jeans, an old pair of faded gray denim, hang low on his hips, way too loose, cinched with a metal eyelet belt. Chains swing from one side, and clipped to his thigh is a carabiner weighed down with keychains, a guitar pick, and the Lego piece that matches the one on Ivan’s own keyring.
He’s barefoot, just wearing plain black socks, because they’re not going anywhere tonight. This is a stay-in kind of night.
His hair is messy in that perfectly intentional way he always manages to pull off. He looks incredible, and Ivan can’t stop the grin that stretches across his face. He gets to have all of this, all of Till, for the evening and the rest of the weekend.
“Hey, I heard there was a tormented emo boy here in desperate need of comfort?” Ivan teases, holding up the takeout bag like a trophy.
Till gives him that very-Till kind of pout, the one that says he’s flattered but trying not to show it.
“Shut up”, he mutters, pulling the door open wider to let his boyfriend in.
Ivan slips off his sneakers and drops his gym bag by the door, right next to the flowerpot barely holding up Till’s overgrown ficus. Once he’s set everything down, he wraps his arms around the teal-haired boy.
Till returns the hug a bit awkwardly, caught off guard, but Ivan isn’t clueless, he can feel his boyfriend taking a long, quiet breath of his cologne. He wouldn’t trade these evenings for anything.
"Thanks for grabbing takeout," Till says, carrying the cardboard bags into the kitchen. He sets them down on the counter and stretches his arms over his head.
Ivan steps into the living room and takes in the state of the apartment. As usual, Till’s stuff is scattered everywhere, sheet music on the couch, clothes draped over chairs, the dining table, even the floor. Shoes are tossed around like they tried to escape something, and a case of black eyeshadow is sitting precariously on the shelf below the mirror.
"Ivan, do you need your jersey washed?" Till calls from the hallway. "I’m about to do a load anyway, might as well throw it in."
Ivan smiles and starts gathering the discarded clothes from around the room, not particularly efficiently.
"Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll need it for Monday’s practice," he says, blindly making his way toward the bathroom. "Here, might be good to wash this stuff too."
Till dumps the contents of his laundry basket into the machine, grabs Ivan’s jersey in one swift move, and tosses it on top. Once the door’s shut, he turns to Ivan and buries his nose in the pile.
"Doesn’t stink yet, so technically it’s clean," he shrugs.
"That’s disgusting," Ivan mutters, taking the so-called clean (but very wrinkled) clothes and dropping them into the now-empty basket. "You’re gonna end up with roaches if you keep living like this."
Till pretends not to hear him and fiddles with the washer settings. Then he hits the Start button and spins around, smirking.
"I’ve already got a big roach standing right in front of me. Not making a big deal about it," he retorts, sticking out his tongue. The tongue piercing glints in the light, a silent, very intentional invitation.
Ivan knows exactly what that means. Till loves it when he plays with his tongue piercing when they kiss, licking and tugging just a little. More than once, it’s been the thing that’s nearly pushed them past that invisible line, right before Till panics and bolts.
Ivan had said he wanted to talk tonight. But Till is standing there, still in his day clothes, looking unbearably cute. A little kissing never hurt anyone, right?
Screw it. They can talk after.
"All this roach talk is really making me want to kiss you," Ivan says, stepping closer until Till’s back bumps against the washing machine.
As always, Till blushes and looks away. Then he takes a breath, lifts his eyes again, smiling with those bright, flushed cheeks, and rests his hands flirtatiously on Ivan’s hips.
"You’re a freak," he whispers, going up on tiptoe to meet Ivan’s lips.
Ivan leans in, capturing Till's lips in a soft, tender kiss. The emo boy melts against him, his teal hair tickling Ivan's cheeks. They make out for a few minutes, tongues dancing and exploring, hands roaming over each other's bodies. Ivan can’t help but lean in as close to Till as possible, trying to soak up just a little more of him. He’s intoxicated by his boyfriend’s scent, by the faint clinking of the carabiner swinging at his hip. In this bathroom, nothing else exists, just Till, Till, and only Till.
As they break apart, panting lightly, the washing machine rumbles to life behind them. The vibrations send a shiver down Till's spine, and he lets out a soft gasp. The sudden sensation against his ass is unexpected and a little embarrassing.
Till seems to hesitate for a second, torn between the objectively pleasant sensation behind him and Ivan’s hungry gaze in front of him. After finding himself in this situation with the teal-haired boy so many times, Ivan knows all too well that normally, if Till weren’t trapped between his muscles and the washing machine, he would’ve bolted in under three seconds. Afraid of pushing him again, Ivan loosens the grip he had around his waist before trying to reassure him. He murmurs softly, "Hey, it's okay," and tucks a strand of teal hair behind the emo boy's ear. "If something feels good, it's okay to enjoy it. You don't have to be ashamed."
Till bites his lip, and seems to hesitate a little longer, before nodding slowly. The vibrations continue, and he can't help but press back against them, chasing the pleasant feeling. Ivan watches him with a soft smile, his hands gently massaging Till's hips.
As the kiss grows more heated, Ivan pushes Till up against the washing machine. The vibrations intensify, sending sparks of pleasure through the teal-haired boy's body. He gasps into Ivan's mouth, his hips bucking forward involuntarily.
"Fuck, you're so responsive," Ivan growls, his voice low and husky with desire. He kisses and nips at Till's throat, his hands slipping under the emo boy's shirt to palm his nipples.
Ivan doesn’t want to rush things. First, he silently thanks the holy washing machine seven times for giving him this chance. The slightly weird context seems to distract Till and help him be a bit more adventurous. But Ivan doesn’t want to blow it or move too fast without being sure. Till seems to be doing well (really well even) and Ivan can feel his own pants getting uncomfortably tight, but his boyfriend’s comfort comes first. So before surrendering completely to the thoughts he’s buried deep down until now, Ivan watches Till closely to make sure everything’s okay on his end.
Till arches into his touch, his head falling back against the wall behind the washing machine. He can feel the teal-haired boy getting worked up, his own arousal growing with each passing second. But there's still a hint of nervousness in his eyes, a lingering hesitation.
Ivan notices it and pulls back slightly, cupping Till's face in his hands.
"Hey," he calls softly, and Till looks up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "If you're not ready for this, it's okay. We can stop anytime, no questions asked. Your comfort and consent are the most important things to me."
Till still hesitates. Ivan’s mind spins with a hundred questions, and his heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s lodged in his throat. Please, God, do not let me mess everything up … In a slightly clumsy movement, Ivan stumbles over his own feet, and his hips bump into Till’s. Horror spreads through his mind.
He doesn’t feel anything.
Till isn’t hard. Till isn’t turned on. Till is probably uncomfortable, or maybe the idea of going further doesn’t stir anything in him. In a flash, Ivan steps back and goes as pale as snow.
"I'm sorry," Ivan stammers, waving his hands awkwardly.
Till doesn’t seem to understand, and his face turns even redder than it already was.
"I'm really sorry, Till, I’m such an asshole, I keep pushing you to do things and... I'm just too stupid to read obvious signs… I’m really, fuck… M’sorry."
Ivan feels ridiculous, and dirty. He’s ruined everything. He’d finally found someone he loves more than anything, someone he wants to protect and cherish, and he’s ruining it all because of his dick… He’s stupid.
Before Ivan can sink any deeper into self-loathing, Till touches his shoulder and pulls him back to reality.
Till takes a deep breath, then swallows.
"I want this." He says, barely above a whisper. He pauses, biting his lip. "It’s just… Not… Fuck, I have something to show you. Something I've never shown anyone before."
Ivan's brow furrows in concern, too scared to say anything.
“Promise me you won’t freak out.”
Ivan can’t say anything, too caught up in the storm of mixed-up thoughts in his head. When his boyfriend doesn’t answer, Till grows impatient and kicks Ivan in the thigh with a grunt.
“Promise me, Ivan, please!”
“I’m already freaking out!”
Till doesn’t seem satisfied with that and shuts down. Ivan pulls himself together a bit and, after a deep breath, gives his boyfriend the best smile he can manage.
“Till, I want you to feel comfortable, and to take care of you no matter what. Even if we don’t go any further. So yeah, I promise I won’t freak out.”
That finally seems to calm Till, who nods in agreement.
Slowly, nervously, Till peels off his clothes.
Ivan has to grip the washing machine to make sure he’s not in some fever dream.
Till isn’t… equipped the way he thought he’d be. If Till is his first boyfriend, and if Ivan had done his homework on how to have good gay relationships, how to take care of a man, and expected to compare his own dick to his boyfriend’s, he’s surprised to find what he’s always seen in bed so far: a vagina.
It’s, all things considered, a very pretty vagina. Till is one of those who like to shave, since the bush around it is well kept, trimmed into a neat, tidy triangle. His bigger lips seem to gleam from the wetness, and Till fidgets on the washing machine, still a little embarrassed.
Okay, Ivan promised not to freak out.
“Are you…?” He starts, unsure.
“I didn't want you to think I've been lying or anything. I just... It's not something you just blurt out to anyone like that, you know? To me, at least.” Till admits, his voice trembling slightly. "You're the first one I tell. It's always been a secret, something I was afraid to share with anyone."
Maybe it’s because the whole situation is already crazy in itself, or maybe because Ivan has been holding back his desires for a few months now, but he doesn’t feel awkward. It’s not that different for him. It’s Till, and he loves Till. So he loves this side of him too… no matter how… unique it may be.
"Wow," he breathes, running his hands lazily over Till's curves. He cups the teal-haired boy's face and pulls him in for a gentle kiss. "You're amazing," he murmurs against Till's lips. "This changes nothing for me. You're safe with me, Till. I'm not going anywhere." He rests his chin on Till's shoulder, whispering into his ear.
"You're perfect just the way you are," he murmurs. "Don't ever feel like you need to hide who you are from me."
Till nestles into Ivan's embrace, feeling the last of his fears melt away. His body begins to tingle with anticipation, a low thrum of desire building in his core.
Slowly, he turns around in Ivan's arms, tilting his head up to capture the jock's lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Ivan responds eagerly, his hands roaming over Till's body once more. He cups the emo boy's ass, pulling him flush against him. Till can feel the thick ridge of Ivan's erection pressing against his thigh, and he moans into the kiss.
Till starts shifting on the washing machine, trying to get more of the vibrations, his body trembling with anticipation. Ivan breaks out the kiss, his smile widening.
"Till, this is your first time, right?"
Till nods.
Ivan wishes Till could see himself through his eyes, and instead of beating himself up for his awkwardness, he could love himself for his vulnerabilities and his strengths. Hell, who cares if Till doesn’t have experience? If anything, Ivan’s even happier because he’ll get to teach him so many things, and they’ll have that much more to share.
To start things slow, Ivan already knows what he can do.
Ivan immediately drops to his knees in front of his boyfriend, burying his face between Till's thighs. Till lets out a soft moan of relief and desire, his face flushing bright red.
“Is this okay to start with this?” Ivan asks, still concerned about his boyfriend’s comfort.
Till swallows, hard, and nods without saying anything.
Ivan smiles, and dives his tongue into Till's soaked folds, lapping up the sweet nectar that coated his lips and chin.
"Oh fuck, your tongue... feels so good," Till gasps, his head falling back against the wall behind him. The vibrations of the washing machine adds an extra layer of pleasure to Ivan's skilled ministrations, making Till's knees weak.
Ivan alternates between long, slow licks and hard, fast flicks of his tongue against Till's sensitive clit. He teases the throbbing bud with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, making Till cry out in ecstasy.
"That's it, baby," Ivan encouraged, his voice muffled against Till's dripping pussy. "Let me hear how much you love my tongue on your clit." Till moans hard at Ivan’s words and bucks his hips to try and get more.
“Ivan… Fin… Fingers, please…?” Till whine.
And who is Ivan to refuse a pretty boy’s requests ?
He slides two fingers inside Till's tight entrance, curling them just right to hit that special spot that makes stars explode behind his eyelids.
Till's hips bucks wildly as Ivan fingers and licks him closer and closer to the edge. The combined sensations of the vibrating washing machine and Ivan's expert mouth are almost too much to bear.
"I'm... I'm gonna come!" Till pants, his fingers tangling in Ivan's dark hair.
Ivan keeps up his efforts, sucking hard on Till's clit as he pumps his fingers faster. "Do it," he commanded, his voice rough with lust. "Come all over my face for me baby. I want to taste your cum."
With a strangled cry, Till's whole body shakes as his orgasm crashes over him like a tidal wave. His pussy clenches and spasms around Ivan's fingers, coating them in a fresh gush of arousal. Ivan continues to lap at Till's twitching folds, determined to prolong his pleasure for as long as possible.
As Till comes down from his high, Ivan rises to his feet and captures the emo boy's lips in a passionate kiss. He lets Till taste himself on Ivan's lips and tongue, savoring the intimate flavor.
"Fuck, I need to be inside you," Ivan growls against Till's mouth, and then realises his mistake and steps back. “Sorry, I just… Can you get out of the bathroom real quick ?”
Ivan knows he shouldn’t ask for too much, he already got Till to trust him enough to do, well, all that. But licking him everywhere and tasting him on his tongue made him very excited, and he has to convince Till to get out of this bathroom quickly, or he swears he’ll explode.
Till shudders and makes grabby-hands, silently asking Ivan to come back.
The teal-haired boy watches him with wide, lust-filled eyes and nods eagerly, his body already aching for more. He turns around and braces himself against the washing machine, looking back at Ivan over his shoulder with hooded eyes.
“You can… Now… F’you want…”
Ivan takes a moment to admire the sight before him ; Till's slim body on display, his bare pussy glistening with arousal. He quickly shucks off his own clothes before lining up behind the emo boy.
“Fuck, do you have any condoms or…”
“It’s not like I can get pregnant, Ivan, God…” Till rolls his eyes, annoyed.
Ivan gives him an uncertain look, then glances down at his crotch, then back at Till, then his crotch again before tilting his head, as if to prove a point.
“I already told you I’m a man… Just… come here…”
To reinforce his words, Till squirms a little, almost like he’s inviting Ivan in. The dark-haired boy knows he should think this through, he’s the one with more experience, the one who’s supposed to be the voice of reason, but he’s been holding back for far too long to think rationally anymore.
Ivan obliges. He thrusts forward, burying himself balls-deep in one smooth stroke. They both let out simultaneous moans of pleasure at the sensation of finally being joined.
Ivan begins to move, setting a hard and fast pace that has the washing machine rattling beneath them. The vibrations add an extra layer of stimulation, driving them both closer to the edge.
"Shit... you're so tight," Ivan groans, his hips snapping forward relentlessly. He grips Till's thighs hard enough to leave bruises, holding the emo boy in place as he pounds into him. “Been’ wanting this for so long, Till…”
Till can only moan and whimper in response, his body trembling with pleasure. Every thrust of Ivan's cock sends shockwaves of ecstasy through him, building and building until he's dizzy with it.
Ivan feels his balls tightening, signaling his upcoming release. He angles his hips just right, determined to make Till come again before he loses control. "I can feel you clenching… You close ?”
Till nods and can’t stop moaning and shaking under him.
“Come on my cock," he commands, his voice strained with effort.
With a final, deep thrust, Till tumbles over the edge once more. His body seizes up as his orgasm crashes over him, his pussy clenching around Ivan's pistoning cock. The added pressure is too much for Ivan to withstand ; with a roar of completion, he slams forward one last time and hits his climax deep inside Till's spasming hole.
They collapse together in a tangle of sweaty limbs, panting harshly as they try to catch their breath. Ivan peppered Till's face with soft kisses, murmuring sweet nothings in between breaths.
Till grits his teeth and tries to stand up, but his legs have given out a long time ago.
“Ivan, the machine, it’s still…”
Once he’s come back to his senses (or what little he has left of them) Ivan gets it right away and after putting his pants back on, lifts Till into his arms, keeping him from having to deal with the washing machine’s relentless vibrations.
Cradled against his boyfriend’s chest, Till can’t help but let out a soft giggle and bury his face in the crook of Ivan’s neck.
"That was... incredible," Till pants, a blissed-out grin spreading across his face.
"Damn right it was," Ivan agrees with a satisfied chuckle. He secures Till into his arms and carries him off towards the bedroom. “And the best part is, we’re not even done yet.”
The humid air in Till’s cramped bedroom hangs thick with the scent of sex and sweat, clinging to Ivan’s skin like a second layer. Once he’s put down on the ground, Till’s trembling hands push Ivan back against the doorframe, those wide teal eyes burning with a hunger that makes Ivan’s spent cock twitch back to life against his thigh. He groans low as Till drops to his knees on the worn rug, the sight of that pale, skinny frame kneeling, teal hair falling into his intense eyes, sending fresh heat pooling low in Ivan’s belly. Till’s fingers fumble urgently with Ivan’s jeans button.
"Easy, sugar," Ivan murmurs, his voice thick as honey, a calloused hand gently carding through Till’s vibrant hair. "Just take your time. Ain’t no rush." He feels the tremor in Till’s hands as he finally shoves denim and boxers down Ivan’s thick thighs, freeing his cock, still impressively thick and flushed red, glistening at the tip.
Till leans in, pink tongue darting out tentatively to taste the salty bead of pre-cum. A soft, surprised gasp escapes him. "That’s it," Ivan encourages, knuckles brushing Till’s sharp cheekbone. "Get used to the feelin’. Wrap those pretty lips ‘round the head… yeah, just like that." Till obeys, mouth closing hesitantly over the broad crown. His teeth scrape his head lightly, making Ivan hiss. "Teeth, darlin’. Gotta be careful," Ivan rasps, hips twitching instinctively. "Use your tongue… lick underneath… suck gently."
Till adjusts, focusing, his tongue swirling experimentally. Ivan watches the teal haired-boy bobbing slowly, feels the tentative suction, the scrape of stubble against his inner thigh. "Fuck, you look so goddamn pretty like this," Ivan groans, fingers tightening slightly in Till’s hair, guiding, not forcing. "Suckin’ me down… takin’ it so good for me." A muffled moan vibrates around Ivan’s cock, sending sparks up his spine. Till’s getting bolder, hollowing his cheeks, taking more of Ivan’s length into the wet warmth. Ivan’s head thuds back against the wood, thighs trembling with the effort of staying still. "Yeah… just like that… fuck, Till… doing so good for me…"
He sees Till’s free hand snake down between his own spread legs. Ivan’s gaze sharpens, a predatory grin spreading.
"That’s right, baby," he purrs, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "Touch yourself. Show me how much you like sucking my cock. Bet that sweet little cunt’s dripping for me already, ain’t it?" Till whimpers around Ivan’s length, his fingers visibly moving frantically between his own thighs. Ivan feels the vibrations intensify. "Bet you’re rubbing that tight little clit, making yourself wetter thinking about how I’m gonna fuck you next," Ivan growls, the filthy words dripping like honey. "You wanna come just from suckin’ me? Huh? Wanna feel that pretty pussy clench while you choke on my dick?"
Till pulls off with a wet, ragged gasp, his lips swollen and slick, eyes wild. His hand is still frantically working between his legs.
"F-fuck! Ivan…!" he pants, voice wrecked and high. "C-can’t… t-too much… need… need you in me! Now! Bed! Please!" The desperation is raw, primal, spurred beyond endurance by Ivan’s words and his own frantic touch.
Ivan doesn’t hesitate. He hauls Till up, kissing him fiercely, tasting himself and Till’s frantic need on his tongue. They stumble towards the narrow bed piled with dark blankets. Till scrambles back, kicking off the blankets and pillows to make space in a frantic tangle, his chest heaving, the flushed skin of his inner thighs glistening. Ivan strips quickly, his muscles protesting against the effort after two intense rounds, but the sight of Till, naked, trembling, his cunt swollen and slick, fingers still unconsciously circling his clit, obliterates fatigue. He’s breathing hard, sweat sheening his broad chest.
Ivan kneels between Till’s spread thighs, running a thick thumb through the drenched folds. Till arches off the mattress with a sharp cry.
"Jesus, still soaking wet," Ivan growls, slicking his own throbbing cock with Till’s arousal. "Dirty talk got you this worked up, baby? Made you wanna feel me stretching that tight little hole again?"
Till nods frantically, teal hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. "Y-yes… F-feels… feels empty… Ivan… please …" His voice cracks.
Ivan lines up, the broad head pressing firmly against Till’s slick entrance. He pushes in slowly, despite the readiness, mindful of the sensitivity. Till gasps, body clenching instantly.
"Oh! S-so… s-so deep already!" he whimpers, hands scrabbling at Ivan’s shoulders. Ivan sinks deeper, inch by thick inch, groaning at the incredible heat.
"Christ, Till," he grits out, hips finally flush against Till’s ass. He starts moving, a slow, deep grind. Every deliberate thrust pulls ragged sounds from Till.
"F-feels good… oh fuck…!" Till gasps, eyes squeezed shut, then flying open to lock onto Ivan’s. "D-don’t stop! Harder, please, fuckkk…" Ivan braces on his forearms, caging Till in, watching the pleasure contort his face. He snaps his hips harder, driving deep.
"Feel that?" Ivan rasps, lowering his head to bite at Till’s neck. "Feel how deep I got you? Filled up so good?" Till’s legs lock around Ivan’s waist, heels digging in.
"Y-yes! Fuck! S-so full… Ivan… m-more!" The pace builds, frantic and hungry. The slap of skin echoes, mingling with Till’s high-pitched cries, and then Ivan shifts a bit and hits this spot.
"R-right there! Oh god! Fuck !" Till whine.
Ivan feels the coil tightening low in his belly, a second climax building, amplified by exhaustion and the sheer intensity of Till’s desperate responses. "Gonna come, darlin’," Ivan warns, thrusts turning erratic, brutal. "Gonna pump this sweet boypussy full… make you take every drop…"
Till’s body bows violently off the bed, a strangled scream tearing from his throat as his third climax detonates.
"C-coming! F-fuck! Ivan!" His cunt goes clamping down on Ivan’s cock in fierce, fluttering spasms. The sensation is electric, overwhelming. Ivan roars, a raw sound ripped from his chest as his own orgasm explodes.
It’s blinding, almost painful in its intensity ; thick, hot pulses flooding Till’s depths endlessly, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he empties himself completely. He collapses onto Till, crushing him into the mattress, his massive frame shuddering violently, spent muscles trembling. He buries his face in Till’s neck, breathing in sweat, sex, and teal hair dye, feeling Till’s frantic heartbeat against his own. "Fuck," Ivan pants, voice wrecked. "Fuck, Till… my Till… took it all…" He stays buried deep, feeling the aftershocks ripple through them both, utterly wrecked, utterly claimed, the room thick with the scent of their overwhelming, third joining. Till whimpers softly beneath him, a spent, satisfied sound.
***
“You talk way too much when we’re having sex, you know that?” Till grumbles, taking a long swig from his water bottle.
Ivan, still lying on the bed with the blanket covering his body, can’t help but chuckle and shift to make room for Till beside him.
“You love it, so shut up.”
Till drops onto the bed, still damp from the shower, wearing only an oversized T-shirt and black boxers. He takes the opportunity to sprawl on top of Ivan, who pretends to be crushed under his weight (though in truth, he could lift Till without effort, and he kind of loves being smothered by his boyfriend.).
“I’ll let that slide. But next time, I’m gagging you. So watch out.”
Ivan nuzzles into the crook of Till’s neck and hums, “You watch out. I might like that.”
Till makes a disgusted little noise, but clearly doesn’t hate the idea.
“So… do you wanna talk about all this?” Ivan asks, steering the conversation elsewhere.
Till rolls onto his side to face him.
“Well, like I said, I never told anyone ever since I moved here for college,” he explains. “I know my friends would understand but... It's been a while, so now that I feel comfortable with myself, I feel like it would be weird to just come out to everyone. It doesn't change who I am. I'm just... Till. You know ?”
Ivan nods and hugs Till.
"Thanks for telling me. And showing me, too. To me, you're also just Till. And you're perfect."
Till tries to hide his smile, but Ivan can feel the way he hugs him tighter. He's happy he can make his boyfriend feel comfortable. And if someone ever tries to pick a fight, then fuck them.
“But you do get a bulge in your pants sometimes… how…?”
Till grins, mischief in his eyes, and leans over the edge of the bed to pick something up off the floor ; two socks, rolled together into a tight ball.
“You stuff this in your underwear and it usually stays in place all day. Though yeah, sometimes it rubs and it hurts.”
Ivan stares in admiration at Till’s ingenuity, then pulls him in close.
“Well, as I said, it doesn’t change anything for me. You could have a tentacle down there and I’d still hit.”
Till bursts into laughter, clutching his stomach as he rolls onto his back.
“You’re actually insane. It’s kind of terrifying!”
Ivan just grins, happy to see him laugh, and lies back, watching his boyfriend with nothing but love in his eyes.
The mood shifts in a matter of seconds, and Till seems troubled by something. Ivan doesn’t ask questions, he knows that if the teal-haired boy wants to talk, he will. He doesn’t have to wait long. Till sits cross-legged on the bed and turns crimson before even getting a word out.
“Ivan, uh… I just wanted to say I’m really glad we did this, and, um…”
Ivan sits up too, placing a reassuring hand on Till’s thigh. The gesture seems appreciated, because Till returns the touch.
“Actually, I wanted to ask… if you’d want to date me.”
Ivan takes a second to make sure he heard that right. Apparently, he did, because Till is looking at him like he just asked that very question. But it makes absolutely no sense to him.
“But Till… we’re already dating…” Ivan stammers, suddenly worried he misunderstood something.
Till shows no reaction. He squints, like he’s trying to process it too. Then, realization hits him full-force and he shouts,
“Wait, we’re dating?!”
Ivan can’t help but burst into laughter.
“Well yeah, I mean… for two months now?”
Till stands up, facing the bed, his face bright red. He starts pacing the room with his hands on his head, totally in disbelief. Ivan thinks back. Okay, it’s true he never actually said the words out loud, but they’ve been on countless dates, they’ve slept over at each other’s places, they even have a widget… they’re dating, right?
“Till, we went to dinner together for New Year’s… we have a shared Lego keychain for couples!”
“I thought you were just really flirty! I had no idea… Wait, so when your friends come over, I can stay?”
Suddenly, all of Till’s weird avoidance tactics make sense. He wasn’t shy about being the center of attention… he just didn’t want to overstep if he was just a situationship.
Ivan dissolves into laughter again, waving Till over. When his (now officially official) boyfriend is close enough, Ivan grabs him and pulls him down onto the bed, holding him tight.
“Till, to me you’ve always been my boyfriend. Or at least since the day we kissed after your smoke break. And I’d be more than happy to introduce you to my friends as my partner.” Ivan says, then pauses and adds, “If you’re okay with that, of course.”
Till pretends to think about it, then curls up against Ivan with a pout.
“Well, since we’re really dating now, stop smiling so much at the cheerleaders. It’s annoying. And you’re not as charming as you think you are.”
Ivan nods and strokes the soft teal hair of his boyfriend.
“And you, since we’re really dating—come watch me at the games. And maybe at practice sometimes. I need my good luck charm.”
Till slips out of Ivan’s arms, pulling on a pair of socks.
“Over my dead body. That’s embarrassing,” he mutters, grabbing a pair of shorts from the floor and slipping them on. “I’m heating up the takeout you brought, you want some?”
Ivan smiles.
The following week, when he spots a teal-haired head in the bleachers, ears full of piercings and cheeks flushed red enough to be seen from miles away, he smiles too.