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“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.”
OR
Ivan jerks off to the thought of claiming Till and feels really guilty over it
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