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The fitting rooms are just large enough to fit two people: a large mirror covering one of the side walls, an array of hooks and hanger racks on the other, and a bench spanning the space between them along the back wall. The only downside is the curtain closure. At least there’s a hook on each side that you can loop the fabric through, but they’re still Till’s least favorite type of fitting room “door.” A flimsy semblance of privacy, really.
Till selects one of the half-open-curtain rooms and walks inside. Ivan follows Till in, because he follows Till everywhere, lugging all of Till’s shopping bags with him. Ivan gently sets them on the floor before sitting down on the bench. Till hooks the curtains closed as best as he can.
Till then pulls his shirt off over his head. He can feel Ivan’s stare dragging down from his bare chest to his abdomen to his low-waisted jeans.
He ignores it.
“What’s the point of wearing a belt if it’s also loose?” Ivan asks. “It’s not even through the loops, either.”
Till glances down: he’s wearing a thick, leather belt decorated with metal studs. It is indeed loose, hanging at an angle around his hips. He shoots Ivan a flat look. “Because I want to.”
Ivan hums.
“Not everyone likes dressing boring,” Till says.
“You wound me.”
Till shrugs and smiles.
“Does it fit you? Genuinely,” Ivan asks.
Till turns to Ivan and lifts the belt off his hips, up to his waist. He tightens it until the cold leather is flush against his skin, and threads the metal prong through a notch. He raises his hands dramatically, and the belt stays fixed in place.
“See?” Till says, raising an eyebrow. “Even a few holes to spare.”
Ivan doesn’t say anything. He’s completely still, staring intensely at Till.
Till takes that as a silent concession and turns back to the mirror.
“Wait, don’t take it off,” Ivan says suddenly, rising to his feet.
He moves toward Till, standing behind him so they’re both facing the mirror. His hands wander to the sides of Till’s waist, and Till watches Ivan’s gaze rove over Till’s body in their reflections.
“What,” Till says.
“I forget how tiny you are, sometimes,” Ivan says softly. He leans down, his breath ghosting over Till’s neck. “But I always remember how beautiful you are. Still can’t believe I get to call you mine.”
“Ugh, sappy,” Till groans, rolling his eyes.
“Only for you.”
Ivan presses a gentle kiss to the nape of Till’s neck, and moves down along his shoulder, mouthing a line of kisses as he goes.
“Okay, but why the belt?” Till asks.
Ivan reaches around to grab the excess length hanging from the belt clasp, and pulls it around until the buckle is over the center of Till’s back. Till is about to say something else when Ivan abruptly yanks the belt, sending Till stumbling back into the sturdy mass of Ivan’s body.
“That’s why,” Ivan purrs, his voice suddenly much closer and much lower than before.
“Oh,” Till says. His throat is suddenly very dry.
The hand that’s not holding the belt comes up underneath Till’s arm, drifting along soft skin until Ivan’s palm settles over Till’s solar plexus. His fingers splay over Till’s collarbones. There’s barely any force behind it, but combined with the constraint of the belt, it feels oddly intimate—possessive, even. Heat starts to gather in Till’s core, and his breathing goes unsteady.
Ivan’s mouth returns to Till’s neck, this time working his way up to lick at Till’s earlobes, tracing around his piercings, teasing. His palm starts sinking lower. Ivan runs his fingertips over Till’s skin, featherlight over his scars, delicate as they trail down Till’s abdomen.
With the other hand, Ivan tightens the belt another notch. Then two. It’s not unbearable, per se, but it cinches at Till’s skin, makes each breath more shallow. Every inhale is now a conscious, restricted effort.
Ivan teases at Till’s waistband. His hand moves across the curve of Till’s hip bones to the soft skin of his pelvis, dusted with the beginning of Till’s happy trail. If Ivan’s hand just shifted a little bit lower—
“Ivan,” Till says faintly.
“Yes, Till?”
Till scrambles for words. All he can come up with is a pathetic, “Please.”
Ivan kisses beneath Till’s ear. “How could I ever say no to that?”
Ivan’s hand dips into Till’s pants, and Till nearly melts with relief. Ivan’s fingers slide over Till’s heat, feeling through his folds. Till sags against Ivan, reaching a hand up to thread his fingers through Ivan’s hair. His eyes drift closed.
Ivan swipes over Till’s clit, rubbing sensual circles through Till’s wetness, before he slips his middle finger into Till’s cunt. Till is turned on enough that it’s not too difficult of a feat, and he groans softly when Ivan’s palm rubs against his clit as he pushes his finger in deeper.
A second finger quickly joins the first. That one is a bit more of a stretch—Ivan goes slow, taking Till apart piece by piece until he’s shaking, small whines leaving his body with each exhale. Ivan scissors his fingers apart and Till keens.
“Can I fuck you?”
“I don’t have a condom,” Till says.
“I do.”
“Fucking perv,” Till breathes. His mouth snaps closed to stifle a moan when Ivan curls his fingers just right.
“Says the one who’s dripping all over my fingers,” Ivan says.
Keeping his middle and ring finger plunged deep into Till’s heat, Ivan rubs his thumb in slow circles around Till’s clit, through the slick, like he’s trying to prove his point. Like Till doesn’t already know he’s wet. Like Till isn’t actively fighting every urge to grind against Ivan’s hand right now.
All he can do is whine faintly.
“So? Yes or no?”
“Fine. Yes.”
Till can almost hear Ivan’s smile.
“So good to me,” Ivan says.
His starts to fuck his his fingers in and out of Till, and then his thumb is lightly flicking over Till’s clit. Till gasps. His hips twitch.
“That’s it, my love, cum for me,” Ivan murmurs. He nips at Till’s ear.
Ivan’s fingers keep moving and rubbing and stroking, and Till’s eyes squeeze shut. His orgasm is barrelling toward him, with Ivan who knows Till’s body like the back of his hand, and Till is helpless to stop it.
He cums with a heaving gasp, pussy fluttering around Ivan’s fingers, leaking more slick. He’s throbbing and twitching and Ivan just strokes him through it, drawing Till’s orgasm out, prolonging the sensation until Till reaches down to push Ivan away.
In response, Ivan raises his soaked hand to Till’s mouth.
“Lick,” he says.
Till’s mouth falls open obediently, and Ivan presses his fingers in. Till’s mouth closes around them, sucking his own slick off Ivan’s fingers. After a few seconds, Ivan pulls out his fingers with a wet pop.
He has to briefly let go of Till in order to take his cock out and roll the condom on. Till manages to stay standing. Ivan tugs Till’s pants down to his knees.
And then Ivan starts to push in.
Even with the previous stretching, it’s a lot. Till has to lean forward, palms on the mirror, for support. It’s almost embarrassing, arching his back and basically presenting his pussy like this, but standing requires too much concentration when all of his brainpower is consumed by feeling. Ivan is thick, sinking deep into Till’s cunt—like he always does, but this time is different. Till swears he can feel Ivan reach up to the point where the belt is cinched around Till’s body, his cock forcing Till to make room where he just can’t. It’s a new kind of pressure—a new kind of pleasure.
Ivan wrenches the belt backward and rams Till onto his cock; the momentum and the impact and the squeeze is so much, too much, everything is so tight, and Till yelps loudly. Ivan’s hand immediately claps over Till’s mouth.
“Shhh,” Ivan says gently, not slowing his pace in the slightest, “don’t want to be interrupted now, do we?”
Till can’t respond. He can’t think. He even can’t breathe, with Ivan’s cock filling him up and the belt constricting his diaphragm and the hand covering his mouth. Ivan pounds into him, and each tug of the belt drags Till closer and closer to the edge.
Till’s breath, forced out through his nose, fogs against the mirror. He glances up to look blearily at Ivan’s reflection. His expression is dark, hungry, almost feral, mouth slightly open—just enough for Till to see his canine. Ivan’s eyes flit up and lock with Till’s. The corner of his mouth curls upward just slightly. Knowingly.
Fuck.
Till clamps down around Ivan as he shivers into his orgasm. It grips him from the inside out, flooding his senses with bliss, and he’s leaking over Ivan’s cock, dripping, liquid pleasure seeping from him.
Ivan keeps going.
Till’s legs start to give out. They begin shaking violently, the heavy platforms of his boots loud against the floor. Ivan tugs on the belt until Till’s spasming body slumps back against Ivan’s. Ivan then drops the strap and wraps his newly freed arm around Till’s torso.
The new angle drives Ivan’s tip into that tender spot in Till’s cunt, and then past it, up into the suffocating compression of the belt.
“Shit, you’re so tight,” Ivan mutters.
Till whimpers into Ivan’s hand, trying to blink back the wetness in his eyes, the dark spots invading his vision, and failing.
His thighs squeeze together, uncontrollable, and that just makes the pressure around Ivan’s cock worse. Ivan groans. Tears start to streak down Till’s cheeks. Distantly, he starts noticing the telltale signs that Ivan is getting close: labored breathing, the faster pace, the near-painful tightening of Ivan’s hands over Till’s skin, trapping him in place to be filled. The thought of it makes Till’s cunt flutter in anticipation, and that seems to be enough—Ivan sheaths himself deep and goes still, and his cock pulses hard inside Till.
Till clenches around Ivan as another small wave overtakes him, seeping through his veins, making him gasp for air. Their orgasms finally relent, and Ivan removes his hand from Till’s mouth. Till gasps, breathing heavily, and Ivan pulls out before graciously loosening the belt.
There’s a minute of quiet as they both gather themselves. Ivan hugs Till to his chest, and Till rests his arms over Ivan’s.
“I like the belt,” Ivan says, breaking the silence. He straightens and lets go of Till, and then returns to the bench.
“I’m going to choke you to death with it,” Till mutters under his breath.
“Promise?”
Till flips him off.