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“is that... rope burn?”
till narrows his eyes and pulls his glove up. it doesn’t cover the mark as much as he’d hoped. “what’s it to you?” he bites out, attempting to circumvent. “don’t you have a student council meeting to go to? it’s friday.”
“cancelled.” ivan’s eyes don’t leave till’s wrist for even a second. “why do you have rope burn? who tied you up? are you having kinky sex? who’re you having kinky sex with?”
“shut. up.” till’s ears are hot, probably flaming to the touch. “not that it’s any of your business, but i’m not having kinky sex with anyone yet. i’m just—”
“yet? who do you want to have kinky sex with, till?”
till regrets everything.
“can you please shut up?” he grits out, looking around furtively to make sure no one’s eavesdropping, “or at the very least be quiet? that might be too hard for you, dumb jock, but you don’t get to spread my business around like the fucking plague.”
ivan bats his lashes innocently. “if you tell me your business, and more about the kinky sex, i’ll be quiet.”
till wants to strangle him. “fine! fine. ugh, just... come with me. take me home.”
“already?” ivan whistles low. “but we haven’t gone on a first date yet.”
“you’re taking me home,” till says forcefully, “and i’ll tell you on the way. deal?”
“deal.” ivan stands, holds out a hand like a gentleman. “after you.”
till hates gentlemen, but takes the hand anyway. “yeah, yeah.”
the walk to ivan’s genesis feels long, what with the jock yapping about the results of their last football game and the plans the team has in place for the next one. it’s not just any game, but the semi-finals for the season, till thinks, but he doesn’t pay attention to the school’s football team. not at all.
when they finally reach ivan’s car, the jock finally shuts up. it’s only when they’re both strapped in that ivan pauses before turning on the engine, glancing at till with a knowing smile. till refrains from rolling his eyes, as hard as it is.
“get moving already, idiot.”
“hahaha, okay, tilly.”
when the red car is finally driving down the streets of seoul, till starts talking, albeit looking out the window as he does, unable to make eye contact.
“there’s no kinky sex,” he says resolutely, watching the cars pass by with how slow ivan was driving. “i tied the rope onto my wrist myself. i’m... learning how to tie different knots.”
whatever answer ivan had been expecting, that was the least likely of them all.
“so... bondage?” ivan checks.
“shibari,” till corrects, not that ivan was entirely wrong. “japanese rope bondage. i didn’t expect to get so into it, but... it’s, uh—”
till loses steam, feels his face getting warm. luckily, ivan knows him well, knows how to pick up the slack where till leaves off.
“it’s like an art form,” ivan says easily, looking at the road instead of the blushing till, “and it takes a lot of patience and skill, no? and it can turn out pretty, to boot.”
“right?!” till exclaims, finally turning to face ivan. “it’s fucking gorgeous! i’ve been learning different knots, trying them out on my art mannequin, creating patterns with symmetry and visual aesthetics, and it’s kinda therapeutic too, the way the process starts from one loop and transforms into an amalgamation of knots and anchors that visually—”
till cuts himself off, catching the fond look in ivan’s eyes. hurriedly, he clears his throat.
“i mean,” he starts again, looking out the window once more, “like you said, it’s an art form, one i’ve been trying to perfect. of course, it would be easier if i had an actual model, someone to try out the harnesses and ties, but that’s something that—”
“what about me?”
till blinks. “what?”
ivan laughs. “for your model. i could do it.”
there’s a moment of silence as till registers the words spoken. “you’d actually do that for me?” he asks, stunned.
“why not?” ivan grins at till before turning onto the street where till’s house resided, “this is something you’re passionate about, right? and i could help. i want to help.”
till gives him a dubious look. “this... it’s not so easy to say you’ll do it, you know. there’s an element of vulnerability to shibari. if you get freaked out—”
“i trust you.”
till freezes.
ivan repeats himself as he parks the car, eyes dark and unfathomable. “i trust you, till.”
till lets himself breathe, realizing he’d almost forgotten how to. “okay,” he whispers. his hair is falling in his eyes, but he lets it be; it hides him that much more from ivan’s probing gaze. “okay,” he says more confidently. “d-do you want to try tomorrow? you can come over. my mom’s going to be at work all day.”
“i’ll be here.”
it’s a promise, one that makes till’s heart beat for unknown reasons.
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ivan
what should i wear?
would anything work?
till
just dress comfortably
ivan
okay~
when ivan is allowed inside till’s home the next day, he’s surprised to find that despite till’s words to him, the man himself was sporting different clothes from his usual emo aesthetic. while the black skinny jeans and black nail polish remain, gone are the iconic skeleton t-shirt, the numerous leather bracelets, and the dangling silver necklaces. instead, till has on a black button-down, the first two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the pale expanse of his forearms.
he’s wearing rings for once, a rare occurence for till, slim silver bands on his middle and ring fingers. there’s a simple leather belt around his waist rather than the gem-studded one he usually wears, and there’s a plain, yet understated choker at his throat. best of all, till’s hair was actually styled for once, pulled back into a half-ponytail, long bangs framing his face perfectly, showing off his forehead instead of it being hidden from view.
all in all, this is an upgraded, much hotter version of till, one ivan is unfamiliar with.
ivan visibly gulps as his eyes rove over till’s body. till notices, and a small part of him cheers at the reaction. it’s not often that he can unsettle ivan.
“it looks like i’m way underdressed,” ivan jokes lightly, gesturing to his t-shirt and sweatpants.
“you’re fine. come on, we’re going up.”
“yes, sir!”
till leads the way to his attic bedroom. ivan had been here countless times in the past, always a fan of meeting till’s mom, io, and helping himself to her home cooking. till complained about it, but io’s always glad to have ivan over, a testament to the fact that till does, indeed, have friends outside of her.
when ivan enters till’s room, he’s surprised to see the lights turned low and candles lit. the citrusy scent of bergamot fills the air, and ivan feels his heartbeat calm down a notch.
“nice ambiance,” ivan comments with a grin.
till shoots him a rare smile back. “it helps me get in the mood.” he hesitates for a second, decides to continue with his train of thought. “you can still back out now, you know. i’m not going to be offended. we could forget all this and just play super mario downstairs or something.”
“relax, till,” ivan says, even as he feels his nerves pick up slightly, “this will help you, right? and i’m curious to see what’s got you so hyped.”
“you’re sure?”
“i’m sure.”
“okay, then. take off your shirt.”
“what?”
till raises a brow, and ivan immediately feels the air around them change. “i’m not binding the ropes over your shirt. take it off.”
the words are assertive, stern even. a command in its own right.
ivan likes it a bit too much.
without any more said, ivan grabs the hem of his shirt, lifts it up, revealing golden skin. the shirt is dropped to his feet unceremoniously, but till doesn’t pay attention to that.
his eyes immediately start studying ivan’s chest, noting the width of his biceps and forearms, the length of his torso, the dip and tautness of his abdominals, trained from years of sports.
“turn around.”
till’s voice is quiet, authoritative.
when ivan turns, till continues to drag his eyes against every square inch of muscle. ivan’s shoulders are broad, strong. his back is unblemished save for a few moles, ones till’s sure ivan himself is unaware of. it tapers into a slim waist, small enough for till to wrap his hands around and let his longest fingers touch.
“okay. you can look back now.”
the air is hot and heavy and his body is feeling dozy, but ivan still listens to till, allows till’s next words wash over him as he explains his next actions.
“i have an idea of what i want to try. i think... yeah. red will look perfect on you. tight... contrasting... yeah. fucking perfect.”
ivan isn’t sure what that means, but a compliment is a compliment, and he welcomes the praise.
when till gets back, he’s holding a bundle of red, nylon rope. with the lighting so dim, and till’s signature eyeliner and smoky eyeshadow darkening his eyes that much more, ivan feels like he’s marveling at a star-filled sky as he meets till’s gaze.
“you’re so pretty,” he breathes out, almost subconsciously.
till doesn’t snap back at him like he usually would. instead, he smirks.
“flattery will get you nowhere.” till’s tone is mostly neutral, with a hint of smugness to it, as if pleased with ivan’s words. “now, hold still. keep your arms slightly raised, yes, just like that.”
from there, till unravels the red rope and starts to place it against ivan’s chest. he loops it around, ties knots in the back, before coming back to the front. the rope essentially boxes ivan’s pecs across his body. from there, till circles the rope around ivan’s neck, and continues his process of knots, overlapping and underlapping, and tightening.
the whole process is a blur to ivan. he tries to keep track, but the logic behind the chest harness’s creation is beyond him. some straight-a student he is, he thinks to himself. then again, it doesn’t help that till is touching him. till’s hands brush along his skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. the pads of his fingers are gentle, but insistent, the way they crack at ivan’s already shot nerves, the way his awareness of till has increased exponentially with every passing graze.
finally, till steps back, eyes critical as he both admires and judges his own creation. ivan gulps, but slowly lets his arms fall to the side, seeing till was done.
“well?” ivan asks, breaking the silence. “how do i look? like your dream rope bunny come true?”
“shut up,” till says without bite, still focused on the rope now binding ivan’s chest. he looks bright, excited, entranced. “how does it feel?”
good question. how does it feel?
ivan looks down. there’s a heart in the middle of his chest, median to where his actual heart lies.
the rope is flush against his skin, and the knots prod him slightly, as if announcing that they’re there, but overall, it feels...
“comfortable.” ivan blinks, surprised at the word he himself uttered, but continues his train of thought nonetheless, seeing as it was true. “it’s actually really comfortable. it doesn’t hurt. it... am i allowed to say it feels good?”
because it was true. ivan’s pecs and nipples were jutting out of the confines laid across his body, and there was a slight ache at his neck where the rope looped around, but it wasn’t painful. there was no discomfort. especially with the way till couldn’t take his eyes off ivan. it made ivan very aware of his own nudity versus till’s dressed-up outfit, how he was at the mercy of this boy who he adored, who molded ivan’s body for his own doing. it was an alien feeling, losing control of his own body, his disposition even. he gave it up only for till’s sake, and the boy in question looked like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of ivan.
ivan felt good. he felt better than good. he felt satisfied. he felt...
“fulfilled.” the words ring true as ivan’s tongue allows them to escape. “i feel fulfilled. is that wrong?”
till finally drags his eyes to ivan’s face, sees the blush on the jock’s face threatening to emerge. “no,” he decides, “it’s not. if it feels good, if it feels like you’re good... yeah. it means i’m doing this right.”
ivan’s brain sluggishly processes till’s words. he’s feeling dozy again, victim to the sharp bergamot in the room and the lack of light.
“i have more planned for you.” till has a vivid expression, one that gleams and shines brighter than the flame of the candles. “are you ready to continue?”
ivan listens to till, feels the rope fibers dig into him, doesn’t say anything in response. he just nods.
he isn’t sure when till brings out the foldable chair, setting it behind ivan, but from till’s gestures, he seems to want ivan to sit down on it.
i can do that, ivan thinks blearily, not thinking twice.
so he settles on the chair, sits back so the rope knots on his back dig more deliciously into his skin. ivan thinks he’s looking forward to the marks they leave behind when the day is over. there’s a specific type of throbbing he feels where all the fibers touch his skin. he’s not sure if it’s good or bad; all he knows is that it makes his heart race uncontrollably, as if aware of till’s lasting impression on him.
because that’s true now, isn’t it? till’s leaving an imprint on ivan, one filled with his care, his attention, his passion. ivan is his blank canvas, and till is covering him in a slew of colors and tones, ranging from reds, pinks, and hopefully, purples too.
even as till pulls ivan’s arms behind him, behind the back of the chair and starts on a tie with rope ivan cannot see, ivan’s mind can only think of how he went into this without much thought, and how the only thing he can do now is be aware and think. think so hard that his mind is starting to overheat.
or maybe that’s just the warmth from the abundance of candles.
“there. all done.”
ivan blinks back to the present, brought out of his musings by till’s smooth voice. in time he was lost in thought, till had tied and knotted the rope around his wrists behind the back of the chair. he was essentially stuck in this position, a prisoner in his own right.
till stands before him, looking down at ivan. “so?” he asks tentatively. “how does it feel?”
ivan tries to wiggle his hands experimentally. “i can’t move them,” he admits. “it’s not uncomfortable, even with my arms held back like this, but i definitely won’t be moving anytime soon.”
till looks pleased. “yeah? none of the fibers are digging at sensitive spots? you’re not losing circulation anywhere?”
“nope.” ivan gathers the energy to shoot till a wide grin. “all is good. you did a great job, till. this has helped you, right?”
“...right.”
till’s eyes are still roving over ivan’s form.
ivan had no way of knowing, but till’s thoughts were headed in a different direction.
this was the first time till had ever looked down at ivan. not just literally, but mentally too. till knew ivan’s headspace wasn’t as sober and coherent as when he first walked into his room. the manipulation of light and scent in his room wasn’t just meant to set the mood, but also as a medium to settle ivan’s nerves in case of tachycardia. ivan should be feeling quite relaxed at this point, even slightly sleepy.
ivan’s wrists were tied in a double column tie; it was impossible for him to get out of it without till’s help. he was victim to anything till would do to him.
that realization made till’s own heart beat harder and harder, increasing in tempo. he could hear it clanging against his eardrums.
because for the first time, till was in charge. he led the direction of their dynamic, he called the shots. ivan had no choice but to concede, to admit defeat, to take what was given to him.
“till?”
ivan’s voice is unsure, lacking his usual jock-esque confidence.
something indescribably surges within till’s chest. when he speaks next, his words sound far away, as if a bystander to the scene playing out in front of him.
“tell me how you feel.”
ivan frowns. “i already did. nothing is—”
“no.” till takes a step forward, leans down until he’s face to face with ivan. “tell me how you feel. what’s going through your head, huh?”
till revels in how ivan’s face turns pink when he finally understands. ivan looks down, unwilling to meet till’s sharp gaze.
“i’m not sure what you want me to say,” he begins. “i’m tied up. my chest is in a harness of sorts, my wrists are bound together. i’m restrained, just like you wanted.”
“go on.”
“i... i guess i’m feeling a little drowsy?” ivan admits truthfully. “not like sleepy, but... slow. like... this is pretty comfortable, i don’t have to do anything, i’m not expected to be a certain way. it’s just me and you. you’re doing all the work. you’re...”
“i’m...?” till encourages, smiling faintly. “keep going.”
“you’re... paying attention to me.” ivan’s words come out as a murmur, as if disbelieving. “you’re looking at me. you’re touching me. it’s a little... weird.” ivan pauses, as if trying to gather his thoughts, before shaking his head a little. “sorry. like i said, i’m a little slow.”
“slow,” till repeats, savoring the word. “you are slow. slow like molasses. thick, sticky, sweet. are you sweet, ivan?”
ivan is lost. “sweet?”
“sweet.” till straightens his back, uses his foot to nudge ivan’s legs further apart. he slots his thigh in between, drawing in close so ivan feels the friction against his covered member, stepping back when he’s done. he smiles when ivan’s breath hitches. “you’re sweet, aren’t you, ivan? just a sweet boy who’ll listen to me, right?”
“till, what are you—hnnnng.”
till took the liberty to lift his sock-covered foot and press it against ivan’s bulge, the one that was becoming more and more prominent by the second. the noise ivan let out was so exquisite, till wanted to draw it out again.
“till, stop.” ivan’s attempt to be stern fails due to how breathless he sounds. “what... you don’t have to do this. this wasn’t—”
“do you hate it?”
ivan looks thrown for a loop. “what does that have anything to do with it?”
till sighs, but keeps his foot where it is. he doesn’t miss ivan’s wince. “i’ll stop if you don’t like it. i know we didn’t plan on taking things toward a sexual nature, but... do you hate it?”
ivan searches till’s face for an answer till knows not. finally, he reluctantly says, “i don’t hate it. but what about you? do you even—”
“are you kidding?”
ivan keens when till grinds the arch of his foot against ivan’s clothed dick with more force.
“you make it seem like i shouldn’t like this,” till grits out, foot still working ivan’s dick and eliciting whines. “but i do. i like it, i want it. do you know how much i’ve wanted to see you beneath me, to see you fucking submit to me for once? you always push and pull me whichever way you want. it’s my turn, don’t you think? but...” till falters, halting his movements. “i don’t want to hurt you either. i want this to be a good experience for you. you deserve it for helping me out.”
“...i’m okay, really. you can...”
there are tears pooling in the corners of ivan’s eyes, but till feels the way ivan’s hips are trying to buck against till’s still foot, trying to feel for that pressure again.
till grins wildly. he reaches for the back of ivan’s head, fingers grabbing onto strands of silky hair and yanking back hard. ivan cries out as his throat is exposed, neck long and adam’s apple moving when ivan gulps.
despite till’s rough actions, his next words are reassuring, comforting. “let me know if it becomes too much,” till whispers. “i won’t push you.”
ivan whimpers. “till, please.”
it’s enough for till to slam his lips against ivan’s.
till moves his lips furiously against ivan’s, the boy beneath him helpless in till’s conquest. till pokes his tongue at the seam of ivan’s lips, demanding entrance, and at the slightest opening, till plunges in, tongue exploring the the cavern of ivan’s mouth. all the while, ivan is crying, tears streaming down beautifully likes gemdrops. he strains against his bindings, wanting to touch till so badly, but unable to do so, especially with till’s firm hold at the back of his head.
when they finally part, there’s a a small string of saliva connecting their mouths. till is pleased to see the dazed look on ivan’s face, pleased to see that ivan’s current state is all because of him.
till licks his lips, moves away from ivan for the time being.
“till?” ivan sounds sad, as if the loss of till hurt him deeply.
“shh. just watch. don’t move.”
for the next several minutes, till makes a show out of unbuttoning his shirt, pale skin appearing into view with every button undone. ivan’s mouth waters at the sight, especially when till removes the black shirt and drops it at his feet without another thought. but then, till’s fingers dive for his belt and starts unbuckling it, and ivan gasps a little, feels his muscles tense against the rope fibers, wanting to move but once again, deprived of the action.
till notices the desperation on ivan’s face, smirks a little. “behave.”
till’s voice, low and deep, sends shivers down ivan’s spine. it’s enough for ivan to stop struggling, but his eyes never leave till’s lower half.
under ivan’s stare, till rids himself of his jeans, leaving them with his shirt on the floor. the air is warm in his room, but till still feels goosebumps rise on his skin. in nervousness, in anticipation, till doesn’t know. all he knows is that there was no way he was turning back now.
as till starts moving toward ivan again, ivan roves his eyes over till’s figure, trying to memorize each line, dip, and curve of his lithe body. while ivan had more built muscle from the gym and football, till’s body was slim, graceful, so fucking beautiful. sinewy muscles that ivan wanted to leave bite marks on, long limbs that ivan wanted to wrap around himself, and a pale torso that ivan wanted to lave his tongue over, worship for hours until the sun disrupted them.
the first time he’s able to see till’s glorious body in its entirety, and he couldn’t touch him.
how fucking unfair.
ivan whines from his chair, wanting till immediately. “till, please, i need—”
“you don’t need anything,” till says gruffly, hand grabbing at ivan’s chin and tilting his head up to look down at him. “you take what i give you. understood?”
ivan swallows hard. “understood.”
“good.”
without another word, till climbs onto ivan’s lap, straddling his hips with his thighs. he ignores ivan’s widened eyes, instead choosing to lift up a little so he could yank hard at ivan’s sweatpants. immediately, his boxer-briefs come into view, making till lick his lips. he puts his hands on ivan’s shoulders, shifts his position so that his dick is lined up deliciously with ivan’s and grinds down hard.
ivan lets out a small moan, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the chair. till wasn’t much better, muffling a sound that he didn’t want ivan to hear yet.
till does it again, panting now, and the trill of sounds uttered from ivan’s open mouth was enough for till to grin, to keep going, despite his own pulsing need raging inside him.
eventually, dry humping wasn’t enough. both their underwear had wet spots that had grown much bigger, a testament to how affected they both were. ivan’s chest was heaving hard within his rope harness, muscles taut against the red fibers, nipples hard and pointed. sweat rolled down ivan’s body from how composed he was attempting to stay.
but till didn’t want ivan to stay composed. he wanted ivan to be a mess under him, because of him.
so he lifts up a little, pulls ivan’s underwear forward to let his hard cock spring free. till couldn’t take his eyes off it. before he realized what he was doing, till was on the floor between ivan’s legs, hand reaching for ivan’s cock. it was hot, firm, with precum sprouting at the head in beads that till wanted to clean up with his tongue.
so that’s exactly what he did.
the first touch of his tongue on ivan’s cock made ivan let out a guttural groan, low and deep in his throat. till smiles, lets his tongue give kitten-esque licks over, under, around the head, letting the salty taste of precum coat his taste buds, becoming delighted by ivan’s increased volume when he finally wraps his mouth around completely.
when till glances up, he’s enthralled. ivan is an absolute vision, made up of an array of reds and pinks, of sweatdrops rolling down his thick neck, of goosebumps raised all over his chest, especially prominent near the rope fibers.
ivan’s eyes are dark as they gaze down at till, red pupils blown wide and lashes highlighting an expression of wanton lust.
till is probably no better, based upon his hot cheeks and the tears at his lashline from handling ivan in his mouth.
ivan goes to speak, to say words till doesn’t care to listen to. till disrupts him by swallowing hard, allowing his teeth to just barely graze the sensitive skin of ivan’s length.
“ahhh!” ivan shuts his eyes, words forgotten, arching his back at the stimulation received. “till!”
till adores the way ivan calls his name. he wants to hear it again.
he spends the next several minutes working his mouth around ivan’s cock, inching more and more of it down his throat, letting his hands reach up and stroke at the base so that every bit of ivan was receiving attention. ivan writhes within the ropes binding him, pleas escaping him to “let me go, till, please, i’ll be good, i’ll listen, just wanna—ah, till, till—”
but till is cruel, merciless. he swallows around the length again, feels the way ivan cries at the inability to reach down for till. till’s sure all ivan wants to do is face-fuck him to oblivion, as till’s pace is slow, steady, not enough to reach the edge and fall over.
when till pulls off, he relishes in the sob that ivan emits just after. he rests his cheeks against ivan’s cock, letting his hand continue working itself up and down in long, firm strokes. “you wanna cum, ivan?” till asks softly.
ivan whimpers. “please, till. it’s not enough, need to... let me go... need to—”
“no.” the denial is followed by till squeezing the cock hard, and ivan cries out at the mix of pain and pleasure he feels. “you’ll cum like this, you’ll cum because i said so.”
“i can’t, i can’t,” ivan whines, shaking his head from side to side erratically, “i can’t, i need to—”
“fucking listen to me.”
till digs his nails into the skin of ivan’s cock, and ivan howls.
“you’ll listen, won’t you, my sweet boy?” till croons.
tears run down ivan’s cheeks without stopping. “i will. i will. i’ll be good.”
“that’s my good boy, so sweet and obedient.” till lets his tone darken as he looks over the image ivan makes. “look at you, half naked and tied up in ropes, unable to move. in this moment, you belong to me. you’re at my mercy. i control you. doesn’t that feel good? being mine?”
“feels good, feels so good.” even as ivan speaks, he’s still wriggling, twisting in his binds. there’s an expression of agony and distress on ivan’s face that till has never seen before, with wide eyes, flush cheeks, and panting, pink lips. “i... i want this. wanna be yours. till, till, i—let me cum. i wanna cum. please, i’ll be so good.”
“i know you will, sweet boy,” till says gently, “you’re already so good for me. go on, then. cum for me, ivan.”
till twists his wrist, tightens his fist around ivan’s cock, starts giving ivan long, hard strokes, faster and more intense than what he was giving the jock before.
ivan moans at the influx of stimulation received without warning, gasps as he slowly creeps upon the edge of his orgasm. just as he’s about to reach the summit, till replaces his hands with his mouth, deepthroating him in an instant.
ivan’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he comes hard down till’s throat. the vibrations as till gulps down every bit of cum only heighten the ecstasy he feels. on till’s part, he makes sure to keep his lips wrapped around ivan tightly as to not let a single drop be wasted.
when ivan’s orgasm finally recedes, his mind is a lull of white noise as he tries to regain his senses. till notices when ivan goes quiet, and quickly pulls off, leaving another small lick to clean up the head of ivan’s cock just a bit more.
as ivan comes back to reality, he’s met with the sight of till standing before him in the middle of removing his underwear.
ivan gulps as he’s met with the vision of till’s pink cock for the first time in his life. “uh... till? are we not... done?”
till raises a single brow, and it’s simultaneously the sexiest and scariest thing ivan has ever seen. “you think i took my clothes off for nothing? seriously?”
ivan can’t control the sound he lets out. “but, but i’m still tied up.” he thrashes a bit, straining against the red ropes, as if to give proof of his statement. “how will i—”
“oh, you don’t get to touch me. you don’t get to control when your dick goes inside me.”
ivan’s mouth dries.
till reaches for ivan’s chin, raises it a bit and places a sweet kiss on ivan’s lips.
“you’ll be good for me, right?”
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