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A pale expanse of skin. Unmarred, perfect, untouchable.
Fragile.
Till had no idea what he was doing when he tugged at the collar of his shirt to itch at his neck. He was oblivious to the thoughts racing through Ivan’s mind anytime he reached up to adjust one of his many chokers or necklaces. Disgusting, perverted thoughts. Dirty ones. Ones not worthy of such a wonderful being.
The sickly sweet scent of Till always seemed to invade Ivan’s senses. Anytime he was around the man his skin felt electric; a deep gnawing lodged into his ribcage tugged him even closer. The carnal need to protect, to claim, could bring him to his knees. It took everything in him not to let out a growl anytime another alpha passed by his Till– sometimes he didn’t even try to hide it.
The mere idea of somebody else laying their hands on Till made him want to vomit. It made fire burn in his veins. Ivan detested the fact other alphas– or even betas–could perceive and be around Till. How dare they wish they could have what belonged to him? But, of course, Till didn’t belong to him. He never would. It was all wishful thinking, the deluded fantasies of a man with little left to hold onto.
Nobody expected a man of Ivan’s prestige to be the type of man to be on his bed, sweat dripping down his toned body, raven hair beginning to stick to his forehead. Nobody expected Anakt’s golden boy to be soiling his pillow with precum, hips rocking to his own imaginary beat, chasing a pleasure he could never quite capture. His mind filled with thoughts of a silver-haired man with his hands up above his head, tied down and completely at Ivan’s mercy. Thoughts of him on all fours and presenting himself so nicely, broken down after Ivan’s ministrations; thoughts of how well Till would open up for him, how sopping wet he would be.
His arousal pulsed as a fresh wave of pre leaked out of his sensitive tip. He imagined chapped, perfect pink lips wrapped around his cock, giving little kitten licks and lapping up every drop that spilled from him. Would Till be able to take his entire length? Would pretty little tears begin to fall down his face, ruining his makeup, staining his pale skin? Would he gag as Ivan hit the back of his throat?
Ivan had to reach down between himself and the pillow to grip at the base of his cock and keep himself from finishing too soon. The pleasure sparked like a wildfire along his spine, shooting down his nerves and making every sensation feel amplified. His mouth opened as he panted, continuing to rut into the plushness of his pillow, a voice repeating in his head telling him he's nothing but a pathetic dog. He humped like one, sloppy and without technique, heat taking over his body as pleasure consumed him.
He needed something to fuck into. He needed Till. His instincts screeched at him to fill up an omega to the brim, to stuff him full over and over again until it took. He wanted to see Till’s belly bloated with his seed. He wanted to show Till just how beautiful he was, how much of a good omega he was, how he was the perfect mate.
A flash of possessiveness struck through him like lightning. Till was his mate, he had to be. There was no other option. Ivan orbited him as if he were the sun. The mere image of Till being cradled in the arms of another alpha, swollen with someone else’s litter, made an animalistic snarl rip from Ivan’s throat. He pounded into the faux body beneath him, moans punching out of his throat as he approached his climax.
He had to show everyone just who Till belonged to. The man’s neck flashed into his mind’s eye; perfectly unmarked and ready for the taking. Ivan could practically smell the sharp cinnamon radiating off Till, that wonderfully sweet smell that drew him in, mouth practically salivating. He needed to smell their scents intertwining, for anyone who stepped near Till to recognize the scent of his bonded pair. He needed it to live.
Ivan’s teeth ached. They ached to sink into soft skin, to pierce and claim what was his. He writhed at the feeling, whining and moaning as his pleasure crested and everything told him to mark. In one last desperate attempt to soothe the ache of his roaring instincts, Ivan gripped onto his pillow and bit down, single long canine easily tearing into the cloth. Velvety down spilled out at the same time as he came. His entire body tensed while he bit down and tore at his pillow with his teeth, riding out the waves of his blinding orgasm. Claim. Mark. Take. He could practically hear Till screaming beneath him as he pierced his skin, taking him for his own. Hot, sticky cum stuck to the coarse hair above his cock, smearing over cloth and onto his skin.
His pillow was definitely ruined.
As the last spurts of cum were milked out of his dick, Ivan collapsed. His limbs felt like lead. His bones only weighed him down more. The guilt was nigh instantaneous, rushing over him and threatening to drown him. A whine that bordered on a mewl escaped his lips as he shoved his head down into where he had completely destroyed his pillow. He didn’t realize that the dark stains by his face weren’t just from sweat, but from tears now steadily streaming down his face. He was disgusting. Deplorable. How dare he yearn to take something he did not deserve? How dare he want? He was selfish. Too selfish to ever be deserving of Till.
He could almost imagine Till’s face now, lip curled in a disgusted expression, not even allowing Ivan the gift of eye contact. The raven-hair felt sick to his stomach. The urge to cut off his own hand, his own sinful hand, to remove the lust from his body clouded his mind. Till could never love such a terrible being such as himself. He was merely a bug on the ground, striving after his own animal wants, not bothering to think of anyone else.
His phone buzzed.
He felt the vibration more than heard it, nerves still alight from his shameful actions. It seemed like a herculean task for him to reach over and blindly search for his phone. He kept his face in his pillow until he found his phone and brought it closer. He didn’t want to look at himself or what he had done.
Ivan wanted to retch at the cruel irony of the notification glaring on the screen. It was bright, mocking him, the array of hearts and smiley kaomoji next to Till’s name only adding insult to injury. The banner only said that he had attached an image. Ivan pressed on it with shaky fingers.
A serene café with a weathered red table, a plate with some plain pastry delicately presented on it. Light filtered down onto the scene. Ivan’s eyes caught onto a hand that could only belong to Till, a variety of rings decorating his slender fingers that reached out to…
Who was that?
There was another hand there, on the other side of the table. Panic gripped at Ivan’s lungs. No, not panic. Possessiveness. Somebody else was with Till, somebody he didn’t know, somebody he couldn’t protect him from. What if Till wasn’t wearing his scent patches? What if they were an alpha and tried to lay claim to the man?
Ivan’s grip on his phone tightened dangerously. A deep, guttural growl bloomed low in his chest, stomach rolling with the need to take Till away.
He instinctively went to jump up and out of bed, but not before he looked down at himself. He looked down at his torn and bleeding pillow, his cum-stained dick, the evidence of his perversion. Ivan fought to keep a son stuck in his chest, shoving it deep into his body where unacceptable emotions belonged. He repulsed himself; he reeked of sin. He couldn’t go to Till like this.
White-hot anger took over the sickness and logical thought seeped out of his crooked mind. The pain sprouting from his chest and gripping him like a vice was too much to bear, the hatred that boiled in his veins burning him from the inside out. He ripped at the pillow beneath him, muscles straining with frustration, entire body feeling like a stretched out rubber band that needed to snap.
He destroyed. He tore. He mauled. He shred the item with his fangs and nails, ragged sobs tearing through him as he wished for his destruction to bring him relief from this all. Maybe if he crushed and broke enough, it would come back around to him and he would finally get what he deserved. Shreds of the pillow and feathers flew around him. Even the sheets gained new holes and horrible rips, the sound of angry tearing and the cries of a wounded animal filling the room.
Ivan was born to destroy and to be destroyed. He was doomed to it; doomed to crush anything he dared to try and hold in his hands. He didn’t own anything. He barely had a grapple on himself. The self-loathing was all-consuming until he laid flat on his ruined bed, chest heaving and thoroughly exhausted.
As he closed his eyes, tears still falling and pooling onto his mattress, Ivan wished Till was here. Even in his pain he was selfish.
He was always so selfish.