Archive of Our Own

It's seven o' clock in the evening, and Ivan is all done with classes and practice.

Still, deadlines are quickly approaching for some papers, as well as the calculus test he still needs to study for. Ivan is a two one semester into his senior year, and he doesn't think he gets much busier than this. The student council is up to their necks with projects for the graduating class, chasing seniors down to for their year book quotes and photos, and it seems like every turn everyone's asking Ivan for advice and guidance. He has no choice but to fill in the roles that's needed of him, because that was always expected of him, and Ivan doesn't disappoint by filling those shoes too well sometimes.

Aside from maintaining his grades and reputation, as long as Ivan can grin and bear it all, execute his tasks with precision, then he will finally have time to hang out with Till.

He's got a Spotify playlist that Till shared with him many years ago, that Till still passively adds more music to; it occurred to Ivan, at some point anyway, that his entire knowledge of music came from Till. He was a blank slate when Unsha adopted him, and he molded Ivan to be the perfect, model son, but he feels like he hadn't truly lived until he met Till.

It took a long while for the two of them to get in sync, but they're an 'item' now, even though it was decided that they have to keep it on the down-low.

But Till offers him a light at the end of the tunnel; if he works hard and stay out of trouble, then the both of them can love each other in peace.

So Ivan studies meticulously and scribbles down notes and works extra hard on the stupidly complicated formulas without complaint.

That is until Till suddenly bursts into his room. Ivan scrambles to stand up, taking off his headphones without remembering to pause the music. It plays distantly in a distorted tone through the open speakers as Ivan stares at his boyfriend.

"Oh, Till! I wasn't- expecting you!" He probably should have, but he was so immersed with his studies that Till's familiar scent had completely escaped him until he's inside Ivan's room.

He's not upset about it, just clearly confused. It seems wherever Till was - at home, presumably - he came straight from there; they both know that Ivan's parents are away on business, they always are, so it's fine that he showed up unannounced. It's something he does quite often, but not during exam season.

Ivan's eyes flicker to the canvas-shaped package he's carrying on his arm, as well as his backpack. Usually he'd have a guitar, but it seems it's an art day — well, those pesky midterms are coming up.

"What's up?" Ivan tries.

A quick scan of Till's face shows he's barely slept, stressed out of his mind by projects he's sure, and Ivan's heart pangs with worry. His makeup is worn like he wasn't able to take it off the night before and had to simply redraw the eyeliner. Still, there's a seriousness in his face that Ivan can't overlook.

Till looks focused when he demands, "Strip."

The momentary shock slips from his features, and then Ivan 's face turns hot.

"Uh, yeah! Of course- anything, babe!" he sputters, immediately stripping.

Maybe Till's stressed and wants a little release. They've done it before, it's nothing to be shy about! But Till never initiates sex like this, and it's making Ivan more excited than usual.

His Letterman jacket goes first, revealing his long sleeve shirt underneath. It's been cold as it approaches the holiday season, and he wears a turtleneck even under his jacket to keep warm and the heat bill low.

Meanwhile, Till's tossing his backpack down, pulling up a stool, and flipping open his large sketchpad; all as Ivan, completely naked now, debates turning on the space heater. If they're having sex, it'll be too hot anyway, so he can spare it until Till asks. He's a smaller guy with not enough fat, so maybe it's already too cold for him — but Till isn't complaining yet, so it's fine.

Ivan sprawls onto the bed, completely naked now, and fumbles to get ready.

"So, how do you wanna do this, baby? What position?"

Ivan stretches his arm over his shoulder, reaching for the drawer; Till has all his supplies before him and with a strong voice, he holds up a hand. "Right there— stop. Just like that."

Ivan freezes in that position, one arm reaching, the other reaching near his stomach. He can't see how he looks in this pose, but his muscles do flex to remain as still as Till instructed. Till only glances back occasionally to start scratching his sketchpad with charcoal.

He blinks; all the puzzle parts lie perfectly arranged for him to piece together, but still, Ivan asks, "Wait. What are we doing?"

Till is too focused to answer immediately, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on his charcoal strokes; he hears more scratches against the material as Till draws more lines and curves that supposedly make up Ivan's nude form — he keeps looking up and staring at Ivan objectively, like he's a piece of architecture or a plant in the wild; it almost makes Ivan self-conscious, being stared at that way by someone he likes.

"Till," Ivan tries to remind him.

"Huh?" His head lifts up, like he's finally seeing Ivan as a person and not a figure study. "Got a project due."

It must be one he forgot about; deadlines are at the end of Monday for many classes, and it's Friday night going into the weekend.

"You're drawing me?"

Till has never drawn Ivan before, but now that he understands that he assignment was 'Strip so I can draw you' and not 'Strip so I can drain your cock,' he's not entirely mad about it. His cock was already filling out of anticipation and excitement, but honestly, this is alright too.

"That's so cool," Ivan says with a bit of awe in his tone. "Is everyone gonna see me naked then?"

Suddenly, Till's strokes abruptly still into an uncomfortable silence — it was minute, but Till continues shortly after.

"... Tastefully," he answers, his gaze meeting Ivan's over the spiral ring at the top of his sketchpad.

When Till looks over the canvas next, Ivan tries to look extra sexy, flexing his muscles — and his dick is half-hard to boot. It's Till who's doing the drawing, but Ivan wishes he could get naked also.

"Are you gonna draw my dick, too?" Ivan asks mirthfully.

Till watches Ivan for a little too long, and then tears his gaze away indignantly. Ivan's distraction technique seems to be working somewhat. "No."

Ivan has always known that Till is an artist, but he wondered if Till could ever draw a person he likes, naked. He was always shy about their bodies, and Ivan's offered to model for Till before, but he's always turned him down.

"Why not?" he teases.

Till shifts and continues his hasty sketching. "I'm not letting everyone see your dick."

He's so cute, and Ivan's growing an appetite as Till's stressed pheromones fade into something needier. Ivan cants his hips slightly towards Till, and then he spreads his thighs wider so Till can have an even better view of his cock, which isn't getting any softer. In fact, he's starting to scent arousal in Till's scent, too, as much as he's trying to hide it with the urgency to finish his project. And it's not like Ivan has moved on from the quickie he thought they were having. Ivan totally thought that was where Till's initial 'strip' demand was going...

"So it's for your eyes only? Does it belong to you?"

For all intents and purposes, it does, but he wants to hear Till say it, but it seems he's finally snapping out of his haze.

"N-no! I'm- I didn't ask for your permission, so I'm not gonna- you know, let everyone see—"

He gestures at Ivan's dick like he hasn't buried the thing inside him before. Till is so cute, Ivan might explode. He feels restrained by invisible chains; otherwise, he'd be pouncing on Till right now.

"You know I'd so anything for you, babe. Are you sure this doesn't belong to you, though?"

He gives his hips a little shake, and his erect cock shifts from side to side like an invitation. Till grows beet-red.

"Stop moving!" When he's flustered, he's easily distracted; Ivan doesn't think there will be much more drawing from here on out. "S-someone's body- can't belong to someone else, you know."

Ivan's brows shoot up.

"Huh?" He's genuinely distraught when he continues, "That's not true. My cock belongs inside you."

Till drops his charcoal, stiffening. "S-stop!"

"Till," Ivan beckons in a deep, syrupy tone, his pheromones oozing from his pores. "You seem stressed. Let me help."

Now his boyfriend is acting like a skittish cat. "I-I need to get this done! For my project— it's- due soon..."

The hand nearest to his cock moves to warp around it, stroking himself languidly and beckoningly at once, working himself to leaking hardness.

"If it's next week, we have time for some stress relief exercises."

Till stares at his cock — he probably didn't hear a word of what Ivan said — and then grimaces. "Knock it off!"

"There's no way you can focus like that. C'mere, babe, I'll take care of you." He motions Till over, arms wide. "Ride me, please?"

"Ivan!" Till resolutely doesn't get up. "I'm- I really have to finish this! I don't interrupt you when you're studying!"

Ivan's breath hitches in a half-laugh, half-scoff, but he doesn't stop stroking himself. Maybe he'll end up cumming this way if Till doesn't get on his cock; he managed to work himself up to this point, after all, but he'd rather be coming inside his boyfriend.

Anyway, the accusation makes Ivan laugh breathily through his strokes.

"Excuse me, you don't? What do you think you were interrupting when you barged into my room?"

"You—" Till seems to realize the reality of what happened. He did barge in while Ivan was studying, and he sees it in his expression. "You weren't- you were still wearing clothes!"

He seems to be implying that Ivan was trying to masturbate before Till kicked his door in. "I meant that I was studying. Look whose mind is in the gutter now?"

Ivan's pheromones is probably filling the room, which doesn't help much.

"We haven't had sex in a week, y'know, 'cuz we've been so busy... I think it'll help if we allowed ourselves this."

Till sways as he tries to think, clearly affected by Ivan's alpha pheromones. "... A week. That's... not that long," he lies.

Ivan stares, then shakes his head, lifting himself onto his elbows. "C'mere. If you don't, I'll come catch you," comes his threat.

His boyfriend's eyes seem to bounce from Ivan's body, to his canvas, then elsewhere. "I-I need to finish this."

This time, Ivan gets up. "I promise you'll have time. Right now, you're stressed and horny," he says as he sits at the edge of the bed. "Last chance before I pounce."

Till is resistant, but Ivan scents that it may be part of the game. "J-just— let me..."

Ivan finally pushes himself up to his feet, and it only takes a few long strides for him reach Till; his arms scoop him up and cradle his smaller body into Ivan's naked form before throwing him over his shoulder despite his loud protests.

It's rare that it's the opposite — Ivan naked, and Till fully dressed — but he'll catch Till up very soon.

"Later," he says, carrying Till back to his bed and throwing Till on it, then hovering over him like he's sizing the boy up to consume. "Sex now."

His hands are hiking Till's oversized graphic tee, and he traces over the scars on his chest that makes Till squirm every time.

"I-Ivan!" he scolds, struggling against the hands groping him, but Ivan knows he's falling apart fast.

Ivan easily pulls off Till's clothes, yanking off his pants and underwear almost as quickly as Ivan stripped in the first place.

"I'd love for you to keep screaming my name, but I'd have to gag you, babe. My parents aren't home but the neighbors are gossipy, you know?"

He knows Till is turned on by that, he can scent it, but Till still struggles. He likes being dominated; Ivan knows this too well now. "Y-you're the one making me yell! Lemme go, if I fail—"

Till's hands are shoved between his legs to prevent Ivan from reaching his groin, but it only takes one hand for Ivan to pray it off. He worries that his grip would pinch the bracelet around his smaller wrist, but he has a role to play right now.

"Your fault for getting me all worked up. Barging into my room and telling me to strip... do you know how you sounded?"

Ivan grips both wrists as Till protests, and then he flips him onto his stomach. His shirt is used to tie his wrists together and keeping them rested on the small of his back, since he's been so combative. A pillow is then shoved under him to prop up his ass, baring his wet holes for Ivan to eat.

"H-hey— Ivan, this is—!!"

"I'd do anything for you, though. I know what you need... but let's attend to my needs first. I'm gonna eat you out."

Ivan spreads his pale cheeks wide, and his folds spread with it. He really misses this; Till is already leaking, his hips wriggling.

"I-Ivan!?"

"I'll take responsibility if you fail, but there's no way you will..."

Till yelps, trying to shift his hips away from Ivan's prying fingers, exposing him in a way that's too embarrassing for him to imagine.

"Don't- I mean it! You c-can't— just fuck me instead!"

Even though they've been dating for a while, having sex is still new and exciting for them. Ivan's always eager to lick Till's body clean, but he isn't as keen about the attention, being as self-conscious of his body the way he is. Even Ivan's worshiping seems to be too much for his boyfriend sometimes, but that's why he's trying to get Till used to it.

And besides that, Ivan really likes eating Till out.

"I have to clean you up first," he says like its the most obvious thing in the world; the first natural step to sex. "You're getting your slick all over my bedsheets from needing me."

Ivan leans in and swipes his tongue from leaking hole, up his taint, and then up his ass until it reaches his tailbone. Till shudders the entire step of the way, each time attempting to squirm away with his teeth clenched to suppress a noise, eyes almost vacant from that alone. He's so perfect. His ass is so perfect, his cunt is perfect, and his bulbous, hooded little cock is beyond perfect; he would cry into the folds if not for the fact that his tears would affect Till's taste.

He grips on both of his cheeks to keep his boyfriend in place; he already knows that his calloused fingers will leave marks on his thighs, and it's place where only Ivan knows.

"You taste so good, always."

Till gets easily wet from the manhandling and the pinning and the subjugating; his biology responds favorably by leaking slick so quickly that it leaves gleaming trails down his sexy, flushed thighs. He's shaking and Ivan knows he's embarrassed beyond belief; he always is when Ivan savors and indulges in Till's body in the most perverted ways.

"S-stop! That's- fuckin'... gross..." his voice becomes muffled by the end as he presses his face into the pillow with Ivan's next hard lick, shoulders trembling.

"Till," Ivan moans openly against his drooling folds, pushing his face closer and harder; his tongue forces its way inside the plush walls of his cunt, and then he hums bright vibrations through him that makes Till's toes curl and squirm. His moans are muffled by the pillow, sure, but he somehow becomes louder for it anyway; his walls are clamping down on Ivan's tongue as he cums, just like that, and Ivan moans again through it.

Till has no moment for reprieve as he twitches through the overstimulation. Ivan's tongue is relentless as it latches onto Till's oversensitive clit.

"N-no!" Till whines, but they both no his 'no' are rarely 'stop.' They even came up with a safeword for that. "Feels— ngh, weird, Ivan—"

Ivan hooks his comically large arms under Till's thighs, yanking him closer so his tongue can slide back inside his spasming walls. From his position eating Till out, if his tongue strokes along a certain area, he can feel his little cock pulsing along the flesh. It's a damn shame he doesn't have another arm to spare, or he would also be jerking against Till's hooded cock too — but even this is a lot for Till, who tries and fails to thrash against his restrained limbs.

"G-Gonna— c-cum— oh god, Ivan, please— ah, Ivannngh—!!"

It's not fair. Eating Till out has no drawbacks at all. He tastes good no matter what, showered or not, and he shaves for Ivan but he wishes Till wouldn't because Ivan likes it when his pheromones are stronger. He loves eating Till out, sucking his cock, while his nose savors his bush and not the scratch of two-day old growth, because that sometimes scratches his face.

But he digresses.

When his tongue is inside Till's walls, Till cums too easily and secretes more of his addicting slick onto Ivan's tongue. And then it becomes like an infinite taste hack: the more Ivan licks inside him, the more he leaks and drools. He can and have gotten too carried away with this, and it's why they had to come up with a safeword in the first place.

Ivan can keep going, but his cock is aching now, and Till is still so fucking wet before him.

He lifts his head, licking his lips. Till's slick still glistens all around the bottom half of Ivan's face.

"Baby, can I put it in, please?"

Evidently, his tongue wasn't enough even though he came twice from it. Till glances back sheepishly, his shoulders heaving with long, shuddered breaths.

"J-just... do it. So I can draw—"

He's not going to address how that absolutely makes no sense, but when they're both horny, it hardly matters.

"Anything for my baby," he coos reassuringly.

Ivan finally frees Till's thighs from his arms, sitting himself up to tuck his knees under Till's spread thighs. One hand grips on his hip to keep him from pulling away, and the other guides his cock. It rests at the cleft of Till's ass, hot and pulsing and Till squirms against its heat.

"Ivan," Till urges impatiently. From his angle, Ivan can barely see his wild teal eyes from the fringe of his bangs, but his flush is clear on the tip of his ear, cheek, and shoulders.

"I know, I know," Ivan laughs breathily, and then he bites his bottom lip, snaggletooth poking out from his top lip as he concentrates on the spread before him.

With his cock still gripped in his fist, Ivan guides it along the cleft; his cockhead leaks with precum, and he spreads it at his puckered ass, enjoying Till's cute little jolts and how his hole flutters for him, and then trailing it further until the head feels the warm-hot slick of his cunt and his folds.

"A—ahh—" Till blurts, his hips jolting against the head where the glands briefly catch at the welcoming entrance.

"Till," Ivan grits out with barely-contained lust. They've done this before, but somehow this feels more intense than usual. "You're so wet for me already..."

"Stop talking—"

Ivan pulls back and pushes forward without intention of breaching just yet; his partner's slick spreads easily along Ivan's impressive length as his cock drags along Till's drenched pussylips.

"You're gonna be so tight, and my cock is gonna be pushing in and out of you so easily, and then I'll get your sexy juices all over me—"

"S-shut up— gross—"

Ivan will never understand why Till thinks it's 'gross' that he gets wet easily. No matter how many times he tries to lick and pleasure the word away from his vocabulary, Till never seems to get over his embarrassment.

"It's not gross, Till. You're the most exquisite thing to exist on this Earth. I can't waste a single drop of fluid you secrete. I'm actually jealous of your bedsheets. You know, passive collector of your hair, skin cells, and other body fluids..." Ivan has been thinking a lot about this as he struggled with his calculous formulas, you see. "Did you know that—"

Till attempts to kick him but his struggling gets Ivan's cockhead to catch at his entrance again, and he stiffens; Ivan even feels his entrance clamp down on nothing, but his tip is right there, kissing it like it's ready for it.

"You're—!! Stop- stop being gross and put it in already!"

Ivan laughs breathily. "Okay, my love."

That gets Till even redder somehow; he's still trying to get used to Ivan's tendency to overuse terms of endearment. He didn't even know he liked pet names until he started dating Till. At first it was awkward as hell, but now it's weird when he's not calling his boyfriend something cute.

His grip tightens at his hip; it's going to be a rough fit always, and his knees shift to test his balance and leverage. Ivan pushes forward and Till pained groan is muffled into the pillow; his poor boyfriend's knees are already threatening to buckle without taking even half of Ivan's length, and he's shaking everywhere, inside and out. His lips spread obscenely around Ivan's girth, and he hasn't even taken the fullest part of it yet.

Till struggles against the bind of his wrists, and then his head turns to the side to gasp for air as Ivan's cock slides to the halfway point. His eyes roll back and his face melts into something pleasured; Till's pheromones spike in shocking pleasure.

His trembling sends delectable waves of pleasure right through his molten core, and then straight to his cock; he shakes like a flesh toy vibrating all around Ivan, and he's not even completely seated inside yet.

Properly inside, Ivan can let go of his guiding hand and lean down to kiss at Till's black collar that currently hides Ivan's previous bite marks. He's itching to leave his neck and shoulder with fresh ones.

"S-so tight," Ivan groans against Till's damp skin, "No wonder you're so stressed. I say— we do this more often— instead of waiting."

He starts a slow pace without completely seating himself; his cock slides in and out of him, but Ivan tries to reach deeper with every stroke.

"Way— way more than once a— week." His next thrust slips deeper than before, all the way to the hilt, causing them both to moan. "Ah, Till—"

"Ivan! Ivan—"

Till tilts his hips, very clearly encouraging Ivan to keep going, which Ivan happily obliges. His walls are properly slicked up again with arousal, and their compatible dynamics help with their enormous difference in size. Till adjusts to Ivan's girth and length easily as he basked in Ivan's potent pheromones. He can tell by Till's distant, blissed out eyes that he's properly drunk on alpha pheromones, which is why his hips jerk like it's telling Ivan to get along with it.

Ivan lifts himself up again; for him to go at the proper pace in this position, just like Till likes, he needs to be upright. He grips both of Till's hips for leverage and pulls out a little more than halfway; along the bulbous veins of his throbbing cock, Till's clear-milky secretions coat him. When he pushes back inside, it collects along the seams like cum. It's such a fucking turn on.

He swipes at the slick, collecting it on his fore and middle fingers, and then bringing it to his mouth to lick clean. If he had less self control, he would cum right there and then; instead, his cock throbs as he starts a proper pace, slow and even; every thrust Till makes a sexy, muffled noise under the lewd sound of something wet sliding in and out of those wall.

"A-ah— Till, baby— you're a-amazing, you feel— fuck," comes his rare curse, his grip tightening on his hip as he pounds into him more roughly, more desperately.

Till's efforts struggling against the shirt binding his wrists does pay off; he frees his hand and one braces his front while the other slips between his legs to tug at his hooded cock. The motion makes Till spasm even moreso around Ivan's cock in his next thrust.

"H-harder— ah, Ivan- please—"

"Yeah- I'll fuck you so good, baby—" Ivan promises, easily swearing and cursing and talking dirty once they both succumb to their sex-driven haze. He braces both of Till's hips again, pulling his body to meet each of his thrusts. The motion makes their joined sounds even more obscene, and suddenly Ivan has to summon the most unsexy images to his mind to prevent himself from cumming right there and then. It's way too soon; Ivan can't let himself cum before his cock has made him cum at least once.

No, his tongue didn't count.

So he fucks him like he promises, hard and fast, and Till melts into a sexy series of moans that keep Ivan up at night — ungh, ah, unf, Ivangh, and so on and so forth, punctuated by wet slaps of skin — and then Till seizes around him tightly, his knees scrambling; Ivan knows he's fucking him through an orgasm now, and he picks up the pace, angling his cock against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him that makes Till scream something muffled into the pillow. The overstimulation sends Till in fight or flight, and he scrambles to squirm away until he's propelled into another forced climax, knees giving out and falling flat on his stomach.

Till likes it so rough sometimes that it worries Ivan; he's already self-conscious about their difference in size; the reality of how large he is give him a sense of dread that he may really hurt Till if they ever try to mate during his rut.

But every time, Till somehow manages to string together pleas for him to go harder and faster, combined with moans and Ivan's name. I can't help but comply, pounding him through peak and ebb, pressing their hot bodies together until—

Suddenly pivoting from coming inside, Ivan pulls out — Till's whine barely registering — and pumps himself to completion over the top of Till's back. His cum spills in thick, hot strings along his back and ass, and Ivan trembles through it.

As expected, it didn't feel good finishing outside. His palms are calloused and rough compared to Till's warm, plushy insides. Ivan flops on top of his boyfriend and kisses his shoulder.

"Better?"

"No," comes Till's wrecked reply, a hint of petulant frustration in his tone.

Ivan tenses up, lifting himself up from his elbows with renewed resolve to fix whatever the issue is.

"H-huh?! Did I mess up? I—" Ivan's thick brows pinches together. "I didn't even cum inside!"

Which, for the record, has been a problem in the past. Till had to take Plan B twice already, and he didn't like that it messed with his hormones.

"You came on me," Till accuses. Well, it's just a fact: evidence of this mess is all over Till's body.

And Till's face is a scowl, but there's a flush on his cheeks that says he's not really angry. It's a pout, really, but Ivan's paying attention to his contentious tone.

Ivan is already trying to clean him up with tissues. "I'm sorry! I'll... aim off your body next time. O-or I guess we can just use a condom..."

His suggestion feels more like it's obligatory; Ivan doesn't really want to use condoms. Hell, who really does in this day and age. He likes the way his cock feels inside of Till, bareback and all. The wrap dulls the sensation and. Shit. He's already kind of getting hard again just by the thought. "I'll make it up to you, babe. We should clean up."

Till flushes deeper, rolling onto his back. It's a cute sight, if Ivan can appreciate it for a moment: his body is sprawled out legs open, arms open, as if trying to use entire form as a unit of measurement for the bed — which turns out to be two and a half Tills by Ivan's calculations, by the way, for a queen-sized bed. He's staring at the ceiling and not minding the way his little cock and slicked-up thighs is just exposed. Maybe he's particularly shameless because he's angry at Ivan, but okay, that's the moment of appreciation Ivan was spared before Till's tone cuts in like a knife through the most perverted part of his mind.

"I'm fine," Till says it in a way that warrants investigation.

Ivan can't help but feel like he's somehow made things worse, and he fumbles a little.

"Uhh—! Is there anything I can help you with? Should I get back to posing...? I'm still naked—"

His scent is something sour and frustrated. With an annoyed exhale, Till rolls back onto his stomach, pillowing his chin with his arms. "No."

Ivan's heart drops and he drapes himself over Till's back.

"I'm sorry! If I did something wrong, let me make it up to you, please? I can't stand it when you give me a cold shoulder—"

Till elbows him.

"You didn't anything wrong!" he grunts, "You came outside, like I always tell you to."

His brows pinch together so tightly that his vision squints.

"Why... why do you sound upset about that?"

"I don't!" He attempts to push Ivan off his back, and he grabs the pillow to hit at Ivan softly. His heart isn't really in it, but Ivan rolls off him anyway in surrender. "I'm not. Just because you cum inside every other time, why would I upset?"

He glances at Ivan.

"I'm happy about it," Till says unhappily.

"Y-yeah. I— normally make a huge mess inside you... you'd complain about leaking even into the next day..."

But maybe Till likes that. Maybe Ivan's been looking at this at face value and Till is trying to get him to read between the lines. Honestly, it would be a lot easier if Till told him what he wanted, but Ivan can also be better about understanding signals. When it comes down to it, Till really isn't difficult to understand at all; Ivan's just stupid when it comes to people sometimes. Sometimes Till makes Ivan see how much he's had to pretend, how much he doesn't have to pretend when he's around Till.

"I know! That's why I'm saying it's good you didn't for once!"

Till is being ridiculous in a way that Ivan really finds cute; his shoulders are slightly scrunched up and the tips of his ears continue to flush, maybe even redder than before.

Suddenly, Ivan roughly grips onto Till's ass-cheeks and spread him wide. He's getting it.

"Sure, but... maybe you deserve to be made a mess out of."

Till's shoulders stiffen a little. "Didn't you already make a mess?"

Yes, Till isn't yelling at him to stop or saying the safeword, and he's only lightly scolding. His scent remains open to Ivan's advances despite the true annoyance in Till's tone.

"I'm not the one making messes. Look at how you've already squirted all over my sheets."

There's a damp spot where Till touched himself; he may not have seen it himself, but he felt it earlier. Ivan roughly maneuvers Till back onto his back, spreading his legs wide with his own knees. He looks down at his omega with a dark smile as Till's pheromones spike again with anxious need, no longer able to keep his confident front.

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't know you wanted me to cum inside you—"

His cock pokes along his folds again, and Till arches; it's unclear if he meant to or not, but it seems he's succumbing to his desires rather than playing his usual hard-to-get game.

"H-hurry, y-you started this, so—"

Ivan sheaths himself all the way to the hilt, and Till cries, fucking himself into Ivan's cock.

"Fuck— you're so needy, want my cum that bad—"

He's not even moving his hips; Till does all the work and hiccups through the overstimulation.

"Ah, Ivan, fuck me— alpha, c'mon, kn-knot me—"

It's clear that Till's gone, and only Ivan's cock can sober him up now. They've never knotted before — they can't without their cycles aligning — but when Till tells him to, he wonders why he can't just summon one right now and make Till's wish come true.

It's quick this final time; Till's arms hooked around Ivan's neck to keep him close, and they share panting breathes and kiss when they can spare the oxygen. Their sex dissolves into a series of moans, creaks and groans from the rocking bed, and the wet slide of their bodies, inside and out — rhythmic and so lewd.

Till senses that Ivan is about to cum at some point — he doesn't know how — but Ivan's close and Till must be too; his legs lock around Ivan's waist suddenly, and if Ivan had been holding back until then, it's clear that Till's encouragement helps him with the extra push.

They both cum unison, and at last, fully satisfied, Ivan slumps on top of him, panting against the crook of Till's neck.

There's a full minute of silence, of only their heaving breathes, before Ivan exhales at last, certain that he's completely emptied inside of Till. And Till has made sure of it in gripping pulses that draw more cum out of him each time, impossibly.

"S-sorry... I came inside again..."

Ivan can't see the roll of his eyes, but it's evident the energy is carried in Till's exhausted tone.

"Idiot," he scolds, then kisses him on top of his head. "Get off so I can finish my project..."

Ivan lifts his head. "Right now...?"

Till shoves at him, and Ivan rolls off and out. Till makes an indignant noise as Ivan's cock drags the oversensitive bundle of nerves on its way out.

"Yes, now! You're still naked, and—" he flushes again, getting up and avoiding eye contact. "I'm inspired. "

"Shouldn't we shower?"

Till is stepping over to his spot, cum leaking down his thighs.

"No." He picks up his art pad. "Get back into position."