Archive of Our Own

Ivan's been waiting for this.

As soon as the door to his apartment closes behind him, Ivan and Till are bumping chests and slobbering all over each other. Every surface of skin touched by his or Till's is a bite.

This wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that they're only supposed to keep their relationship professional. Till's idea. They're not dating, but it never stopped Ivan from aggressively pursuing Till. And worst of all, they're both alpha who have to wear patches and take suppressants to even be around each other.

Ivan has never liked kissing quite like he does with Till. He can even ignore the dizzying alpha pheromones that ooze out of his roommate; the patches have worn out but they're too horny to even care about that. Till's scent pangs with need that makes Ivan's skin crawl, but in a good way.

They tear each other's clothes while touching, making out like they can only breath through their tongues gliding against one another, grinding the hard line of his cock against Till's groin; he feels the bump there that could be either his zipper or the piercing Ivan's grown obsessed with, along with the rest of him — and it never feels like it's enough. Combined with their alpha scents, it's uncomfortable but Ivan has reworked his mind into accepting this is uncomfortably yet unbearably good. But only because it's Till.

"Wanna fuck you," he says even though he knows it'll be a particularly rough fit. "Think you can take it?"

His fingers find Till's hole and there isn't enough slick there to assist Ivan's burning want.

"Bastard," Till hisses as Ivan's rough fingers stroke along his lips and pump in and out of his hole. "Hey—Ivan, why do I always gotta be the one taking it?"

"You have two holes and one is already leaking—"

Ivan brings his fingers to his mouth to coat them with viscous spit — it's not a lot, but it's something — and guides them back to Till's cunt. Already in that short time he's wet with excitement. His little cock, erect and hooded, grinds against the rough material over Ivan's thigh. If only Till knew that every time he ground his sweet little pussy against any article of Ivan's clothing — that is, smearing his slutty juices all over it — Ivan cuts out that piece of his clothing and inhales it until he no longer gets dizzy from it. He collects Till's opposing alpha scent in his lungs and basks in it until he's ill.

"I give you plenty of chances to take over. If you don't seize them, then it's not my problem that my cock ends up inside you first." Ivan moves and flexes his quad muscle in a way that ruts against Till's sensitive groin. "I'll suck you off, if it makes you feel better."

"Tsk," Till relents. "You wanna suck my dick that badly? Some alpha..."

"I'm not the one leaking at the thought of my cock filling you. Some alpha," he mocks as he bends Till over the nearest counter, shoving his pants and underwear down to his knees. Ivan has touched Till there, obviously, and has felt what he has equipped down there. Along with his little cock is a piercing that makes his body tremble deliciously every time Ivan touches, yanks, and teases it.

"I'm not fuckin' wet," Till insists, even though Ivan can see and feel and will taste evidence of otherwise.

Ivan lowers himself to his knees, parts Till's round cheeks, and presses his face into his cunt like he means to suckle the last remains of water on Earth, and he's thirsty. So fucking thirsty.

If Till has more protests, Ivan's tongue manages to completely scramble his thoughts. "Ah, I- stop it! S'—nasty—"

Ivan's own mirth can be felt through vibrations through Till's pussy, a laughter that is suppressed by the clench of his wanting wet walls. From Ivan's angle behind Till, his tongue slides along the erect, bulbous clit from inside his cunt. Till's lying; if he thinks it's nasty, it doesn't explain how much wetter he gets and how desperately he's pushing his hips and pussy back into Ivan's face. He pulls back slightly after a moment of licking, but not without pressing an uncharacteristically adoring kiss on his pussy.

"You're getting so wet," Ivan says in a teasing hum, placing another kiss at his piercing; his nose bumps along his slicked up folds. He pretends he's basking in the scent of a sweet, blossoming omega. "Like an omega in heat. Perfect for you—"

"Fuck you— you're so fuckin' gross," Till curses, shoving back at Ivan's face; his grip tightens on the countertop. "That's your damn slobbering drool!"

It may be wrong, and it may make his alpha instincts go haywire, but Ivan can't stop sucking Till's cute little cock, and then burying his tongue deeper. He hums because he would probably be speaking if not for the fact that he can't; his tongue is utterly preoccupied, heavy on Till's scent. His pheromones will cling to Ivan for days and nights to come, and he's thrilled. Ivan's fingers, slick with saliva, poke at Till's other hole, because of course Ivan's greedy for that too.

"D-don't— stop!" Till tries to shift his hips away from Ivan's prying fingers this time, but it's impossible when his tongue is making Till feel that good.

Ivan's too rough; his free hand keeps Till pinned as his other fingers penetrates his inexperienced walls the same time his tongue shoves even deeper, as deep inside his cunt as his tongue can reach.

"I- fuck, I said—" Till starts, probably some half-assed attempt to stop Ivan, but his words begin to slur into pleased groans as Ivan's fingers roughly fuck in and out of his ass. He's always enjoyed pleasure more when there's a threat of hurt, or he's hurting, or when it's not something that he really wants but Ivan forces him to enjoy it anyway, and it makes his orgasms more intense for it. He's a freak but he's Ivan's freak. His hips twitch, his walls spasm, and Ivan shoves a third finger inside to stretch him further.

Till reaches back to grip on Ivan's hair, trying to prevent his tongue from teasing him, his fingers from fucking him, but there are already evident, telling signs that he's at the cusp. His back arches further, like to allow Ivan's tongue to stroke his insides in tandem with the invasive way his fingers move inside him.

Ivan moans against him as Till cums, pried out by his insistent tongue and the aggressive strokes, allowing him to ride it out as he sags slightly against the countertop. He would be lying there if not for how little space it offers.

His knees are slightly bent and shaking, jeans and sexy panties are still barely shoved down beyond the fullest part of his flushed thighs. Ivan stands up straight, stepping a foot between Till's trembling ankles, and tucks it wider apart one foot at a time. All his prep, drool and slick dripping from Till's blushing lips, is surely enough to fit Ivan's alpha cock, which has now grown large and heavy and leaking with arousal, headache be damned.

"You even cum like you're in heat," Ivan says, his tone something between a praise and pure mocking.

He didn't even think he was capable of getting this hard, though it'll be another topic entirely to trigger a knot without omega pheromones. But with the way they're going — with what Ivan's got planned for Till — he has to; it's got to work. Till's pussy is begging to be filled and plugged up with cum, after all. The tip of his cock is burning against Till's still-pulsing folds, and Ivan rubs the length along the slit until his head meets Till's tinier cock and his lovely piercing.

"I'm gonna put it in," he warns.

Till doesn't have time to bask in the afterglow; he scrambles for what's left of the fight in him to reach back, swatting Ivan's hand away as he guides his cock to his entrance.

"Fuck- wait, m'not ready...!" Till yells and tries to wriggle away to no avail; Ivan's feet have Till's locked in place. "I-Ivan, asshole! Don't put it in—"

Ivan shoves forward, filling him to the hilt, and he savors the tight, hot heat of his lovely walls as Till trembling arches first, then sags back into the countertop. "Ngh, s-shit— why am I— ah, always— oh—"

He can't finish his usual speech when Ivan pounds him through every syllable of his usual speech. They fuck enough in the time they've known together, and Till is in denial about enjoying it every single time. It's an acquired taste, sex between two alphas, and it puts both parties on edge — maybe that's why Ivan remains aggressive, and Till fights him every step of the way. It's when he gets inside of him that he remembers why he does this. Till is like a forbidden fruit that oozes the most poisonous toxins as to ward its preys away, but once his hard exterior is broken, you are rewarded with the sweetest, most addicting prize. Till is that and even more. Ivan is willing to risk it all for him, and Till doesn't even know how terrible he can get for him.

"You're so wet inside," Ivan groans breathlessly, "All— nice and slicked up—"

Ivan hangs his head over Till's shoulder and basks in the poison and the prize. Till is hot and buzzing inside, vibrating all around him from overstimulation; he just came and he's sensitive, and Ivan's thick cock, pulsating and hot, grinds against all his sweet spots with every rough thrust. He thinks he feels Till secretly cum two more times as Ivan begins to chase his own. "Do you let other alpha breed you like this, or am I just that special, Till?"

With his remaining strength, Till grabs a handful of Ivan's dark hair into a tight fist that threatens to tear right off his skull, right from where his head is over Till's shoulder.

"Fuck no—!" He yanks at Ivan's hair, which only inspires him to fuck into his tight cunt harder, and it makes Till's grip falter. "I'm— not letting you breed me!"

Even with all the slick and saliva, it's often not enough with Ivan's size and their repelling alpha scents working against the other. They always need lube, but many times their combined monkey brains can't see past how horny they are. Now the haze is quickly fading as their pheromones keep oozing and tugging at his awareness, tingling parts of his brain that he registers as a full migraine, but Till's pussy distracts him well enough.

"C'mon— let me cum too—"

Till doesn't have a choice. Ivan's cock is scraping against Till's insides, the minimal wetness preventing tearing, and his body should be violently rejecting another alpha. His pulse shifts like he's experiencing fight or flight, even though it's just sex. This is how sex between two alpha goes.

"F-fuck, just— hurry up and cum," he groans, relenting.

Not that he needed permission for it, but Ivan snaps his hips harshly into the resistance of Till's body, and they stay clung like that for a few long strokes, and then he cants his head to press their lips together.

He didn't even intend for them to kiss, but they do, sometimes, and it never gets addressed. The kiss muffles a protest that's instinctual to Till at this point, but it's what tips Ivan over the edge, spilling into him unprotected — another thing that wasn't supposed to happen, ever — and still it doesn't quite scratch the itch.

What does scratch the itch, however, is how Till pushes into it almost too hard, like he's trying to bruise and cut skin, dominating the kiss. He figures it's the least Till needs to do to feel he's in control. Then he groans, flopping back onto the counter, craning his head into folded arms.

Ivan sighs in the wake of it, panting into Till's shoulder blade, damp with sweat and Ivan's own breath. He smells good — the scent beneath his offensive alpha pheromones, under which he scents something much sweeter like the warmth of his pussy, still spasming around him in post-orgasm bliss — and Ivan wants to bask in it despite the way every nerve in his body screams at him to pull away.

But—

He wants to stay like this just a little while longer.

Then he groans, because if sex between alpha is like a fun night out drunk and high on a karaoke-list of drugs, then what follows after the dust settles is the miserable hangover. There is always a sober, logical part of his mind that tells him they need to stop this— but he can't. They absolutely can't stop.

Till elbows at Ivan, trying to get Ivan off and out of him. "You fuckin' reek. Get off me," he grumbles.

Ivan surely pisses him off by indulgently kissing Till on the corner of his lips before pulling away, handing him a napkin. "You like my scent."

"Fuck off." Till snatches the napkin away from his hand; somehow the chaste kiss making him burn up more than the way he got fucked senseless just now. He wipes the cum spilling down his legs without an end in sight. "Ugh, it's so much... This is gonna take forever to clean, asshole."

Till elbows him again, this time with more vitriol. "You were supposed to pull out!" he yells.

There are many things they're supposed to do and were actively supposed to avoid doing, so many damn rules, but in the time he's known Till, they've broken almost every single one.

Ivan laughs. "I'll clean you out." He always does.

Till regards Ivan's too-sincere expression with knit eyebrows that always seem to stay in one furrowed place when hanging around him. "T'ch. I dunno why you're always doing this," he says in a tone that means 'yes, you can clean me.' "Now I'm gonna smell like you, and no omega's gonna want an alpha that smells like another one fucked him up."

"How awful," Ivan retorts blandly. It's actually good that no omega wants Till, because Ivan wants him first. He wants him better and more than anyone else breathing. If he has competition for the spot, they definitely need to kill Ivan for it.

"It is awful. I gotta settle for you just to get any," he grumbles. Says it like it's the most disgusting thing ever, as if Ivan's cock doesn't leave him uncomfortably empty and begging for more. That's why Till was here in Ivan's territory, getting spread around his alpha cock. "If you were an omega, this wouldn't be an issue."

It's probably not a serious statement, but it manages to crack Ivan's usually pristine composure — like a twitch on his fringed eyebrow that Till will likely miss. Good. Because Ivan's brain is already reeling. Till always says this shit. He's been keeping track.

"It'd make more sense for you to be one, no? You're already halfway there, taking alpha cock regularly."

Till's too busy pulling his pants back on to see Ivan's face. Ivan can't even be sure how his own face looks right now.

"See, that's what I'm talkin' about!" Till snaps. "You always make me the one taking it. I'm not a fucking omega, so knock it off and find one if you wanna fuck. I'm not giving it to you again!"

It's all posturing. Till says something similar every time Ivan spends himself inside of him, when the foul repelling forces of their pheromones quickly propels him from post-nut bliss to post-nut clarity.

When Till turns back to look at Ivan, he's already finished repairing his mask, meeting Till's annoyed gaze with a wide, unreadable smile. He leans in, stroking over the groin of his pants where his hooded, pierced cock must still be sensitive. Till twitches under his touch like he can't handle even a little bit of teasing, biting his lips to stifle a noise. His body language doesn't hide a thing, unfortunately, always so traitorous to Ivan's touch.

"What omega are you scoring? I was thinking we're perfect for each other," Ivan says in an intentionally silky voice. He knows what his tone can do to people who are into him, and he knows Till is susceptible to it too no matter how much he denies Ivan— "Headaches and all."

Till shudders, but he swats at Ivan's hand. "'Perfect for each other'? Now you're just fuckin' with me."

He isn't really — Ivan's always meant every word when he spoke of his desires for Till, not that Till believes him. He flatly refuses to.

"Say, you free this weekend?" Ivan embraces him from behind, intimate in a way that makes Till shiver against him. He knows Till's free; he's not so much asking for permission, but as to plant a seed of ominous foreshadowing. What he's really saying is, and Ivan will state it plainly: "Stay with me."

Till shivers against him. Ivan knows he's got him convinced, but Till likes games and likes to deny him when he can. He likes it when Ivan takes what he wants out of him, even if he would never admit it.

Or maybe that's just one of many things he's decided for Till.

"Tryin' to fuck again? Heh, you really that desperate?" Till goads. "Guess you're not as popular as everyone thinks, huh? Useless alpha—augh—"

Ivan's fingers roll hard around the sensitive nub of his pierced nipples, and Till's incites die into a stifled groan.

Friends with benefits — or whatever they've decided to call themselves this week — don't shower together. In fact, they were not supposed to at all, but it's not like any of their agreements were written on paper, signed and notarized; they only have their verbal agreements, spat between thrusts — the "you can't stay here tonight" and the "don't cum inside" — and Ivan rarely listens besides that. Till never says what he means.

So they're showering together. The blockers don't do much to the throbbing in his skull. Like poison, like an addicting hangover — if it's Till, Ivan can learn to fetishize even that.

"Stop- stop it, I can clean myself!" Till squirms against Ivan's calloused touch, against the thrum of the shower falling over them. Ivan's apartment is generous for someone who lives there alone. In fact, he got this apartment knowing that Till might like it, but he hasn't agreed to move in with him yet. For obvious reasons.

"Don't worry, I can help," Ivan offers, or really, he insists.

"Hey, Till," he teases, lathering soap onto Till's body before he can start arguing. "You ever heard of 'bitching'?"

Till's skin jolts, elbow jabbed into Ivan's chest, and he scents alarm in his pheromones; Ivan laughs despite it, rubbing the soap under Till's pit in a way he knows tickles, causing Till's forming protests to die in weak hisses.

"Not the kind where you yap," Ivan continues, "Which you do plenty of. The kind where a person's dynamic is forcibly changed to omega."

His bandmate squirms and braces against the shower tiles, voice faltering. "I—I dunno what the fuck you're talking about."

Ivan has Till's bicep tightly curled around his grip, keeping his arm up and exposed. Seeing Till this flustered does make him a little harder despite already indulging in his body before this. He's trying to control himself for once.

He leans in so his voice vibrates deep in Till's eardrums. "You know, I always thought there was something unique about your scent. What if you could become one? Ever thought of it?" All the while Ivan scrubs his cute little pits.

His grip keeps Till still even as his arms thrash like they would jab at his assailant if not for Ivan's overwhelming strength. He's useless against it. But even so, Ivan knows this gets him hot and wet, too, being manhandled against his will.

"T'ch— there's something unique about your scent too. It reeks! No way would I ever wanna be an omega anyway."

They're both naked as the shower hits their bodies; Ivan is already getting a little hard at the cleft of Till's cheeks.

"Yet you keep me around anyway. Maybe I'm an acquired taste only you can put up with. I mean, that much is obvious... so, why not go all the way?"

He's finished scrubbing Till, but now he's playing with his nipples with both hands, tugging at the steel jewel there. He's got many piercing Ivan likes, but the ones one his nipples might be his favorite — he can play with it in a way that gets Till mewling like a little kitten, arching his back and his voice sings for him sometimes.

"Y-you're just saying that because you get off on humiliating me!" Till stammers, jabbing at Ivan's unbudging chest again. He's not wrong about that: Ivan loves putting Till in his proper place, squeezed tight in a box where he can't protest. He likes breaking him down until he agrees. "Which is why you wanna turn me instead of just finding an omega yourself!"

Guilty again.

For a few moments, Till doesn't really think further of Ivan playing with his nipples; the piercings have long been a source of interest for him. But he reaches his limit Till finally swats Ivan's hand away.

"Fuckin' pervert."

"Yeah," he agrees easily. Ivan is such a fucking pervert. Till doesn't even know half of it, and Ivan ruts against him to clue him in how much more of a pervert he can be for Till and Till alone. He may be trying to swat Ivan's hand away, but it's not working; he's insistent and tugs at them as Till moans an octave higher than before. Ivan bites into his shoulder like he's marking him — just adding to many previous ones he's left on Till's neck and shoulder. Till's blood taste like the steel pierced into his nipple, his cock, his tongue — fuck. He loves Till. "Let me clean out your pussy."

"Stop— ugh, quit biting me!" He knows Till likes it. There's nothing adversary about his scent. "I can clean myself out. You haven't even cleaned your dirty dick."

"That's because I'm busy making sure you're squeaky clean. See?" Ivan's fingers slide down on his little cock and then slide into his cunt where his cum is still deeply filled inside, slowly leaking out. Till's breath hitches, jolting into his fingers. "I'm so thorough," he coos.

"You're... ngh, a dirty old bastard, Ivan," he grits out, gripping on Ivan's forearm. The matter of their age difference has always been a hot topic when people start rumors about their relationship. Till is only freshly twenty-one while Ivan is in his thirties now, after all.

"I think you're into it."

Till's nails dig deep enough to break skin, but not enough yet to draw blood. He's not forcing Ivan to stop yet. He may be unable to stop Ivan period.

To his credit, Ivan's not really trying to finger-fuck Till right now; he's merely trying to clean Till out the best he's able with his fingers buried inside him.

"I wanna bitch you into becoming my omega. I wanna fuck you until your pussy and ass leak slick. I'll pump you with so much alpha cum and knot you with it," he says smoothly, like he's reciting lyrics from an unreleased song.

"What—" Till sputters, head hanging, but Ivan can see how the red heat has reached his neck, shoulders, and most brightly, his ears. "Not even fuckin' possible. You're watching way too much porn."

"I've read about a few methods, out of curiosity. Did you know that, if injected and basked with enough of their potential partner's pheromones, a dynamic can be tricked into changing? I thought that was interesting." Now Ivan's really just fingering him, biting his skin and also grinding his cock against him. "I looked that up the first night I met you, by the way."

Till squirms, but freezes when he realizes he's just fucking himself into Ivan's fingers, and his cock is rubbing between his legs like a reminder: yes, he's still hard.

"You—" he grits out, "You were—looking this shit up? Were you messing with me the whole time?"

Ivan's grip is a vice, and no matter how much Till struggles, he easily continues fucking him with his fingers.

"Stay with me," he says in a tone that leaves no room for Till to contest.

"I'm- I'm not sticking around just for you to shoot me up with weird shit!" Till argues anyway, his voice rough and his knees trembling to give a cute shake to his voice. Real fear and panic. Ivan smells it in his pheromones.

Ivan isn't even making it a secret what he wants to do. He's already laid it out plainly. "C'mon, babe. You think you could really leave me?"

He's still in the process of cleaning them both, but he keeps laying his pheromones on thick to make Till dizzy and too nauseous to fight back.

Still, Till resists, though it's clear he's starting to struggle to stay upright. He tries to break free, twisting his body the best he can, but Ivan keeps him pinned. "I can leave whenever I want!"

"What do you think you're doing? I'm cleaning you, and you still have cum in your pussy." Despite his words, he's slipped four fingers inside, aggressively stroking his worn, sensitive walls, sliding easily with Ivan's cum. He feels Till's muscles spasm, and then he slumps. With the fight leaving him, Ivan frees the hand pinning him and takes him by the chin, forcing him to look at Ivan's face. "Aw, you look so sick. Or did you just cum again?"

Till groans, twitching around Ivan's fingers. He must have came but tried to stave it off — he should know better than to resist against Ivan's fingers. Ivan knows Till's body too well at this point.

"You gonna pass out on me?" Ivan laughs. "Not that I mind."

Instead of fighting, Till focuses on bracing himself against the tiles of the wall, trying to move away with Ivan's thick fingers inside of him. "Q-quit touching me, pervert!"

His scent is confused — it's because this is the first time Ivan has ever mentioned 'bitching.' It's surely throwing him off-guard, uncertain if this is part of their usual will-they-won't-they song and dance. And Ivan can argue this is, and he believes this might finally put them out of the relationship stalemate boogieman.

"I wanna fuck you again. You're still wet inside—" and his cock is right there, rutting against Till's wet folds from behind. "I want you," his deep voice groans against Till's ear.

"Y-you said you're c-cleaning—" Till sputters, but he's too weak to fight. Ivan's in position to fuck him easily. "I said no! Asshole!"

Even then, his hips are faltering, lips spread around Ivan's head as if inviting him. It takes him only a shove against the shower wall until his cock is spearing him to the hilt, ripping a satisfied moan out of his throat like he's finally home again.

"But you feel so good. Pulsing around me, getting so wet. I bet that what's you're meant to be—" he whispers, fucking him in wet slaps that sound infinitely louder in the shower. "Maybe that's why I'm obsessed with you."

Till's cheek is against the wall, and he groans wetly. "You're— obsessed cuz you're a perv!" his voice cracks as Ivan snaps his hips into him, starting a brutal pace. "C'mon—" Till still protests, a hand reaching back to put a stop to Ivan's unrelenting hips, sliding his cock in and out of him. "I can't- I don't wanna— ah! Ivan! I'm not! I won't be— an omega—oh," he moans, bouncing back into Ivan's cock.

"Yes, you will," Ivan insists now that Till has run out of words, lost in the pleasure of his walls being stroked deliciously by Ivan's girth. "Your body does," he continues, "I'll help you catch up— with the program."

Ivan fucks him deep and hard thrusts, every snap of his hip at his current angle hauls him on the tips of his toes, making Till lean heavier against the shower wall. "I'm gonna bitch you so good you turn into my omega— pregnant with my pups—"

Till's fingers scrap for purchase against the walls. The edge of his neon green polish has started chipping long before the shower — likely when he was gripping and scratching at Ivan. His walls clench around Ivan when he thrusts at a particularly good angle. "No!" he still yells, "Don't want pups! Can't get pregnant! Fuck you!" he spits vehemently despite the way his body welcomes Ivan's assault.

"Biology always find a way," Ivan says, a little breathless. "Admit it. My scent is stronger than yours— you couldn't hope to dominate me. That's why you're taking cock and I'm not."

"Fuck you— you're such— uh— ah, don't wanna. Ngh—"

Ivan can get Till pregnant. He knows he can; he feels it in the way Till's scent struggles to keep his defenses up, how it falters — everything an alpha would deploy from his pheromones to intimidate beta and omega are useless against Ivan's as he pounds into him to chase another climax. He fucks Till in a way that isn't about making either of them feel good — he fucks to dominate, wringing the alpha out of him. He pins him against the wall and hopes the pressure between the ceramic and his navel would make the shape of his cock be felt in a new, obscene way. He hopes his cock leaves him ruined for sex with anyone else. And when Ivan's done bitching him, he will make sure they're mated for life.

Till still thinks he's playing games, but he's serious.

Well, he isn't sure if Till is thinking much anymore. He cums around Ivan's cock in forceful spasms and then slumps against the wall. Unconscious. Ivan slows his pace and finishes inside his barely-clenching insides.

To his credit, Ivan does finish up cleaning Till's exterior. He washes away all his tears and snot and even wipes away his makeup. Till still looks wonderful without being in makeup; where he will miss the streaks of eyeliner that makes it look like he cried the entire time being fucked stupid, he'll make up on how much more flushed his face will be— swollen, puffy, red and pink all over.

Right now he has Till tied to the bed in his accessories — red arm-warmers and a choker that isn't spiked. He always complained about being fucked in bed with it; it's uncomfortable because it pokes under his chin in certain positions. And he had intended to have Till wear his beanie, but he kept stirring in his unconsciousness and knocked it off his head.

He's waking now, and Ivan waves at him like he's gaining consciousness after a long coma. Only this time he's completely bound.

"Hey," Ivan greets gently. He's halfway through a cigarette but his pheromones are thicker than the smoke.

Till is slow on the uptake, but his confused, sluggish expression eventually turns sour. "Fuck off. Warn me when you pull this kinda shit!" When he inhales, his eyes roll slightly, head dizzy from Ivan's overwhelming scent.

Ivan takes a long drag of his cigarette, killing it to filter, and puts it out. He blows the smoke in Till's direction, then moves closer.

"Is my asking if you're free not enough of a warning?" Ivan's always up to no good. Till should know this. "On a scale of one to ten, how scared are you right now?"

Not that Till would be honest, but it would be nice to put a scale to this whiff that oozes in Till's pheromones.

"I'm not scared! I'm pissed off!" Till barks back, rattling at the restraints. The metal digs at Till's wrists and the bar keeps his ankles apart and exposed for Ivan.

When Ivan leans in, his stare is unblinking and he holds up a syringe with a thin needle, the chamber full of a clear fluid. Ivan makes a point to squirt a little out to make sure Till knows he's not fucking around. "You should be scared."

"Wha—" Till says, or tries to, but he has no words for what he's seeing.

"A concentrated serum of alpha pheromones. You'll have to endure this for a few days, but it shouldn't take too long to see results."

Till's jaw unhinges from shock, and then his brows knit like he's realizing he's being pranked, even though Ivan is serious. "What results— ugh, knock it off. I'm not letting you shoot me up with shit I don't know."

Ivan furrows his brows. "I told you what it is. Every time I make you cum, I'll inject you with a shot — three days of this, and you'll change. You'll be able to carry my pups like you're supposed to." He smiles assuredly. "I already injected you once."

Finally, Ivan smells a bit of panic and fear. "I'm—not carrying shit! I'm an alpha!" Till wriggles against his restraints. "Fuck, I'm gonna just fuck someone else! I'm never letting you— mph—"

He rolls Till onto his chest before he can finish, his words muffled by the pillow under him. Till's wrists are bound together and tucked between his knees, and the separator bar keeps his ankles apart, exposing both holes for Ivan to ogle.

"You slept with me multiple times, against your alpha instincts, enduring the migraines and nausea... don't pretend you're not into me. I'll convince you this is the correct way."

The syringe is abruptly stuck into one of Till's cheeks, completely unceremoniously, and he empties the chamber of strange fluids into him.

"H-he—!!" he yelps with gritted teeth, eyes wide; the fluid makes his body seize up in alarm. "You... you're kidding, right? This isn't funny anymore, Ivan. What the fuck did you stab me with?" His tone is full of raw fear that should make Ivan feel guilty that it turns him on so.

Ivan kneads into the subtle fat of his ass as if it will accelerate the process. When he strokes his fingers along Till's lips, he can't help but marvel at the slick oozing out of him already.

"...Is it just me, or are you already producing slick?" Till stiffens as Ivan thumbs over his folds, dripping with a sweet clear substance that has somehow stopped being nauseating. There's no way the serum could have worked that quickly, so this bodily reaction must be all Till. "You're such a freak," he chides.

Till's hips shift like he's trying to escape the crawling grope of Ivan's fingers, but obviously that's going to do fuck all. He hisses as Ivan's calloused fingers roll over his jewel. "F-fuck you! I'm the freak?! You're— you're injecting me with weird shit! Ah—ngh. Tying me down! Sh-shit—" There's a part of Till that likes this. He knows it too, that's why his protests are half-hearted in spirit. His fear still twinges in arousal.

He's nice and loose from earlier use, at least, which makes it easy for Ivan to slide a wet thumb into his entrance, but never penetrating him completely, just playing with the slick there.

"I'm doing what an alpha does and taking what I want. I need you to be mine, and I wanna knot you." Ivan lowers himself until his breath can be felt on Till's hot pussy. "C'mon. It'll be fun. Even if it doesn't work, I know you get off on freak stuff like this."

Till whines like it's instinctive, the noise wrung out of him before he can stop himself, and his breath hitches when Ivan's tongue swipes along the slit to taste the heady slick. He swears he can taste omega pheromones in it. "Y-you're the freak— let go! Why aren't you the one getting—"

Ivan hums deep vibrations against his cunt. "You'll understand eventually, baby. I'll treat you so well."

Despite himself, Till still trembles. "I hate you."

He moans this time, sliding a tongue into his hole shallowly as if to chase the taste to its source. "Love it when you talk dirty. Keep going."

This time, Till buries his face into the sheets as if to muffle another sound. "F...fucking pervert. I'm gonna beat—ngh, beat the shit out of you."

"Well, I have other plans." Ivan loves being a pervert for Till specifically, and he loves how easily Till falls apart from his tongue, fingers, and dick — he seems to be able to succumb to any part of Ivan's. The fight is dissolving in him, and Ivan laughs against his pussy. His other finger toys at his ass, drawing wet circles at the inexperienced entrance. "I'm gonna fill every one of your holes with my cum."

Till's fingers twitch where his wrists are bound and stuck in place. "This isn't fucking funny! You want me to admit I'm scared?" He attempts to flail and thrash, but he only flops and pushes more into Ivan's tongue. His breath hitches. "Y-you got me, okay?! 'm fuckin' terrified! This is weird— get your face away from my holes, I'm—ah! I'm sensitive! Ivan!"

"Your scent tells me otherwise. Or maybe it's not mutually exclusive— you're turned on because you're scared. I know this is what you want."

"I don't want—" Till tries to argue.

"Haha... I'll prove it to you." Ivan slides his wet fingers in his ass, his muscles violently rejecting the intrusion but ultimately useless against the force. Especially when his tongue also pushes deeper inside Till's tight wet cunt.

"D-don't—" It's not like they haven't done anal before, but it's obviously affecting Till a bit more tonight from the overall experience. He probably still thinks it's a game, but his scent teeters between genuine fear and arousal. His knees are trembling despite it, trying to jerk away. "Ivan—look, I'll- I'll let you fuck me again. Just knock this shit off— s'not— ah, f-fuck, not funny anymore!"

Ivan pulls back just slightly, his smile could be felt at his folds. "Let me?" he repeats mockingly. "Do you think you're still in control, sweetheart?"

There's a spike in fear in Till's scent and he attempts to snap his knees together. "...If- if you don't let me go, I'm seriously gonna be through with you!"

"By the time I'm done with you, you're not gonna want to mate with anyone else," he says, pressing a kiss against his pussy like it's the most precious thing. "I promise, baby."

His fingers are still buried in Till's ass, stretching absently, as he leans down to swipe his tongue against his piercing. Till twitches, his ass impulsively clenching, and his eyes roll closed as he twists into the pillow to muffle a pleased mewl.

Eventually, Till gives up and accepts it — or maybe he's spent on his defenses and can no longer put up a fight, completely succumbing to Ivan's relentless pursuit to pleasure him. Ivan admittedly quite likes this part of their sex, when Till allows himself to endure instead of rebel. But Ivan's greedy and he likes it when Till rebels, too.

"You look so fucked out already, Tillie-baby. I haven't even put my cock anywhere near your holes. Don't you want it?"

"I don't wanna," Till pants, half muffled. "Leggo of my hands."

"What will you do with them, hm? Gonna fight me? Hit me?" Ivan sounds a little too excited at the suggestion, but he doubts Till has any energy left.

Still, Till's fingers curl into fists at the suggestion. "I won't."

Ivan watches with a predatory smile and decides that actually sounds fun. "Mhm. Can you even fight me in your state? Wanna try?"

It's the challenge that frisks him up again. He pulls his fingers free from Till's ass and undoes the restraints. Till rolls onto his back, and for a moment, he stares at his hands like he can't believe Ivan actually kept his word. And then he meets Ivan's eyes, remembering what he's angry about, about the stinging injection site, undoubtedly about how much of an asshole Ivan's been to him — even he can admit that — and Till lunges for him, but his limbs are slow and clumsy.

Ivan easily avoids the incoming fist, pinning him by the shoulder as he spanks the side of his thigh hard enough that it shuts Till up immediately. Well, not without a pained-pleasure yelp. Till freezes as if the noise that came out of him shocked him too, and Ivan can't help but laugh. "If you don't really start fighting back, you might find yourself getting bred by my cock again."

"I'm fighting back, you asshole! You can't breed me!" Till attempts to turn, but he's unable to when Ivan once again has his entrance at the head of his cock. If Till struggles just a little bit, his hole will catch and slip back inside. His hips shake as he wriggles, legs kicking. "If you put it in, I'll... I'll bite it off!"

Ivan snatches Till's ankles and pries his legs apart just like that, his spent, loose, and flushed-swollen holes in lewd display. "If that's your plan, you better try it quickly. I don't think you'll be able to reach it with how far I'll bury it inside you."

Till's fight is fading fast again; his useless limbs do put up some effort, rattling and thrashing, but Ivan's grip is too strong; he wastes more energy struggling than simply taking it. Ivan's cock continues to poke threateningly at his entrance.

"C'mon, Till, I wanna see you try."

He does try; his arms swing and his nails attempt to hit Ivan's face, scratch his skin, and pull his hair, but it's useless when he's already so weak, and Ivan's cock brushes ever-closer to breach him. "I—I hate you," Till snaps again, the same words he always spat when he's vehemently given up. "You're a goddamn fuckin' pervert. Rot in piss."

"I hope you piss on me," he says, but it comes out more like a horny babble in the wake of Till's anger. Till shoots him a shocked, almost weirded out expression — he should know by now that Ivan's a freak — and his pussy clenches around his head like it's kissing him. Then his expression is gone completely as his cock disappears inside him, his eyes rolling back, walls seizing and spasming. Till's insides are still slick with Ivan's cum from before — maybe he wasn't so thorough after all — and he keeps him pinned like that as Till buzzes through the aftershocks of being speared open again. As he attempts to accommodate Ivan's size, Ivan reaches over to a new syringe and injects it at Till's thigh. "Good boy."

"Stop!" he hisses, but his walls squeezed at the praise, making Ivan twitch and leak in kind. "W-what are you on? You're not acting normal!" His voice trembles with real fear.

"This is how— real alphas behave. We— we take what we want." His pace is uneven, punctuating his words with rough thrusts that jostle Till further up the mattress. Till's hands are still scratching at Ivan's face, occasionally slapping him, but he's too weak. Ivan pins his wrists. "You're so wet. Is it working?"

"No," Till whines, shaking his head, neutral tears streaming down his face, "You're insane— lemme go, I'm an alpha! Can't—"

"Yeah," Ivan pants, "You can. You will— you're already so wet, and your scent has changed—"

The pace is brutal, he can't hear his own pants, can't hear Till's sweet and pained ones either. His body has broken out in a full sweat, drenching the both of their bodies; each thrust draws out lewd squelches that he wishes he was recording. He'd assign it as his morning alarm, reminding him what he's fighting for every single day. What humanity he shreds in order to ensure he and Till will be bonded and mated forever. This is all for Till.

Till squirms, and his mouth hangs open, drooling pools of spit by his cheeks. "Ivan— c'mon, I—" he tries to will his tongue to make words, and they're barely able string together a coherent sentence. But Ivan's cock keeps drilling into him and stroking against Till's in a way that makes his entire body paralyzed with waves upon unrelenting wave of pleasure, teeth clenched, biting his own lips so hard Ivan thinks he may have broken skin and bled. He's falling apart again, just as he always does when Ivan fucks him hard enough, putting him in his place beneath him.

"I—wanna... wanna cum..." Till sobs, willing his hips to bounce back on Ivan's cock. "Ivan— ungh— Ivannn... s'too much— so much, ahh—"

"Oh yeah?" Ivan's won and they both know it. He lets go of his wrists to stroke at his swollen, flushing red, hard clit, jerking along the hood; he feels the firmness through it, and he strokes his little cock just like that as he angles his own cock up against the spongy sweet spot inside him — although Ivan's girth has never left any sensitive areas inside him unbullied; maybe that's why Till is completely defenseless once Ivan's inside. "If you want to cum, beg for it."

His pace has slowed to something teasing, only moving when Till demands it of him with tired rolls of his hips, barely able to stay coordinated. But when Till's desperate to cum, he gets into a certain space—something that is normally much more difficult to draw out of him when their alpha pheromones are strongest—but it seems he's been slipping in and out of subspace a lot more easily ever since Ivan started injecting him with the pheromone formula. "Call me your alpha," Ivan continues, goads, practically attempts to fuck it out of Till.

With a whine, Till's hips jolt. His clit is sensitive, and this thighs shake with every deep thrust. "No," he shakes his head despite crumbling. "Just—just cum, please. Ah, Ivan, you can too—"

Ivan slaps against his clit lightly, but Till's too sensitive to register it as so. He jolts, gritting his teeth, pussy suffocating his entire cock still driven deep inside. "You're so cute when you beg," he coos, like speaking out of turn or out of character, and then resumes his punishment. "You're so close, aren't you? Say you're my omega. Say it. I'll be yours— mated for life."

Till crumbles, clear in the way his mouth has unfiltered begun to spill out wanton moans. He bounces and takes more of Ivan now, canting his hips so his cockhead can better hit the spots inside him. Till's fingers attempt to coil around Ivan's, but there's barely any grip to it. "I'm— I'm your omega," he hiccups, hanging on to any last shed of dignity he's able to while being torn apart by Ivan's cock. Now his hips move along with Ivan's desperately to chase the the climax that Ivan always coaxes out of him multiple times over.

There has to be a name for the frantic spell Ivan gets in when he reduces Till into this space. Like seeing a bird in pain and putting it out of its misery — except Ivan needs to extend the misery. He knows he can get away with it because Till is the very kind of freak that likes this. He smacks Till right across his already flushing cheeks, and it leaves Till wide-eyed and gasping.

"Say it louder," Ivan demands, grinning ear to ear. His abdominal muscles flex with effort to keep the brutal pace consistent and fast. It burns like it knows they're nearing the finish line. "You're my omega— say it."

The second slap leaves Till breathless, his body jerking and walls clenching so hard he thinks Till came a little. Or maybe he's preventing himself spilling any other fluids. "I- I- I'm your omega!"

Ivan's hand moves to Till's neck, cutting his oxygen supply, all the while his cock drives into him over and over — he's determined to wring another climax out of his spent walls. He knows he can — Till is in such a state that he's able to attend and respond to all of Ivan's malicious wiles. "Are you close? What will do it for you, getting knotted by your alpha?"

Hand still on his throat, nearly crushing his windpipe, Ivan leans in to breath and growl in his ear. "Do you feel my cock reaching your cervix, babe? If I knot you, I'll penetrate your womb, even—"

Ivan can't even be sure if Till can hear what he's saying, but the way his cunt clenches around him still seems to indicate so. "Please—" Till wheezes with his limited breath. "Wanna cum— Ivan—"

He's always so placated in this state, humiliated and beaten to submission, speared by cock and choked out of protests. Ivan keeps his grip tight and deadly, but he does momentarily loosen his hold so Till can take a heave or two of wet breaths. He'd like for Till to be conscious for this part, at least.

"Are you a greedy omega that needs alpha cock to cum now?"

Till coughs wetly, almost choking. "I'm— a greedy omega, need your cock...!" he slurs, eyes half-lidded, though his gaze tries to fix on Ivan's cock thrusting and disappearing roughly into his smaller body. "Lemme cum... alpha..." he moans, and he then every thrust after sends him into loud yelps that sound like he's falling, or maybe he is falling. He shakes his head suddenly. "Wanna cum, I wanna cum, I wanna—!!" he dissolves into another series of coughs as he runs out of breath. Ivan lets him, his grip loose on his windpipe for just a moment, and Till immediately resumes his begging. "Y-your knot— Ivan, alpha—"

When Ivan squeezes his throat next, it's intended to put Till out. His words die in a pained choke. His hips snap and fuck into him as hard as his body would allow — after all, Till wasn't the only one suffering from pheromone sickness; the migraine is like thorns constricting Ivan's brain and whipping it all around his skull. Till's knees instinctively try to push together to prevent Ivan from pounding into him as roughly into his spent little cunt, overstimulated to tears and beyond, but Ivan doesn't stop. He doesn't relent, doesn't slow even when Till begs with frantic eyes and cries for Ivan's mercy.

Till is shaking, and Ivan is too — and then Ivan cums, not slowing the snap of his hips: harder, faster, deeper, until Till's eyes roll back, body seizing, gasping for air that Ivan has cut his supply of, as he cums— and then Till's struggling slowly comes to a complete stop. His face is a mess of snot, tears, and drool, and he stays sprawled out like that even as Ivan lets go of his throat and finishes his own strokes, spilling additional cum inside his already filled walls.

Ivan's base tingles with the desire to knot, but it can't happen naturally like this. Unceremoniously, he pulls out, basking in the sight of his Till being fucked to utter silence. Of course he's going to snap a photo of Till like this — adding to his endless jerk-off fodder in a hidden, encrypted folder in his phone — and he puts his phone away to inject Till with the next dosage of the pheromone formula.

Till barely stirs when the needle breaks his skin, barely reacts anymore when he empties the strange fluid inside him. Still sprawled out, Ivan parts his thighs and thumbs over the loose labia and his cum ever slowly drooling out of him.

"You're even wet like an omega now. Do you think your ass will be wet too? I wouldn't even need lube, I bet."

"'m not..." Till tests his voice, but it's rough and wheezed out. He may as well say nothing at all, but he does try at his shaking knees to close them.

"Have you ever done anal before?" He hopes not. If Till had, it wouldn't have been with Ivan. "Wanna try?" It's less of a question and more of a suggestion, as Ivan sets down the syringe and lifts one of Till's legs by the underside of his knee, parting him further. His cockhead pokes at Till's ass now; he thinks he feels slick there, but it could also just be his cum leaking its way down — his entrance remains clenched shut, or maybe Till clenched it at the suggestion.

"Wha—" he struggles to come back to the present, gaze bearing down on where their body could and will connect. He shakes his head, "N-no, don't— It's gonna hurt." Till can't even make himself sound scared or desperate.

The pheromone formula works quickly, it seems; Till is leaking out of his other hole, and despite being weakly clenched, the muscle there is puffy and swollen despite them not doing any anal before. He has to just shove forward for the ring to give and succumb to the invading force of his cock — and Ivan does fuck forward, all the way the hilt, and Till's eyes widen like he's sent to another universe, hole clenching, but he has no energy to push Ivan off.

"You're wet. You— really are turning."

Till turns his head to the side, eyes squeezed shut, and his arms push at Ivan's chest as he starts a slow pace. "Ah! I said- don't! Hurts—ah, Ivan—!"

"Your ass is leaking slick like a wetbottom. You're turning and you know it. You're clenching around me like you want more—"

"Take it out!" Till whines too sexily, tears streaming down his face. "I'm not!"

With his arm hooked around the outside of Till's thigh, keeping his leg open, Ivan plays with Till's clit with one hand and with the other, pushes his own cum back inside his pussy — all the while still fucking gently into the inexperienced, under-stretched walls of his ass. Till's eyes roll back slightly, his hips twitching like he's resisting the urge to cant into the thrust of his fingers or cock. The sound their bodies make is obscene, but not as lewd as Till's noises. "You're my omega. You can't waste any of this—"

"Ivannnnn—" Till is out of words now; only Ivan's name remains on his lips, and as Ivan picks up the pace, he's reduced to moans and hiccups, only able to take Ivan's cock and fingers in surrender now.

Like this, Ivan is able to fold Till's body further as his hips snap more quickly in and out of him. He leans in to press their foreheads together. "My omega. Till— Mine."

Till can't look at him, eyes squeezing shut. Ivan kisses him between his slurred words. "Not. Can't— please, don't wanna— Ivan. You can cum— jus'," he hiccups, "stop saying weird shit—!"

Of course, when Till begs him not to do something, Ivan can't help but deny him. He laughs again, a little breathy from exertion. "Don't make me slap you again. Every time I call you my omega, every time I suggest that you've changed and you have," Ivan stresses, pace even like he's catching his breath, "You clench around my fingers and cock. You want this."

Till is close, he can tell with his erratic breathing, his hips matching Ivan's pace as it strokes against something nice. "Ivan—" he shakes his head. "No- no, no—"

When Ivan pushes a third finger inside him, palm facing up, his thumb can reach up and bully harshly against Till's hooded cock, drawing circles around and on his piercing. "I'm turning you— I'm fucking you until you turn, gonna knot you, put pups in you. Trust me, baby— Till, my omega—"

Till is thrashing the best his tortured body can manage. The overstimulation has gotten him drooling, unable to keep his mouth closed to stop the noises from coming out. "I'm dying— I can't—! I'm— an alpha—" Till groans, starting to run out steam again, but his hips jerk with every hard thrust of Ivan's cock, every deliberate stroke of his fingers inside and out. "Ah, ah, hah, I'm— gonna— fuck, I'm gonna—" and then Till howls, hips bucking, and cums again, spilling hot fluids onto his chest and Ivan's.

Ivan's free hand comes up and wipes his tears from his fluttering lashes, and Till barely stirs in the wake of his climax. He doesn't stop pumping his cock into him, feeling that mounting pleasure build up in his core again. Till makes it so easy, so easy.

He braces Till and spends himself inside his ass, still clenching as if milking his cum. And when Ivan pulls out, his cum leaks out beautifully from both holes, but he's completely drenched in all sorts of filthy fluids now — more his own than Ivan's. "You're doing so good, baby."

Till is a twitching mess, his eyes unfocused. He's trying to look at his own body and what Ivan's done to it, but he's too fucked out. His legs are splayed open, pussy clenching on nothing; each time his muscle spasms, more cum leaks out of him. Now Till can only watch helplessly, and looking helpless, as Ivan injects him with a new dosage of the formula. He groans weakly as the chamber of fluid empties in some part of him he can no longer feel.

As Ivan busies himself with superficial cleaning on his cock, wiping his cock with a napkin, Till's lips twitch. "Ivan... what is it, really? What are you—"

It's obvious what Ivan is doing at this moment, and even more obvious as the sound of his phone's artificial camera shutter as Ivan snaps several photos of Till in the mess he's lying in.

"You mean this?" Ivan holds up the small container of strange fluid that he's been injecting Till with. "I told you what it was, but you thought I was just fucking with you. I'm doing what the kids call 'bitching.'"

Till's brows furrow. "But... that's just porn," he protests weakly.

Ivan beams ominously as he prepares the next dosages, as if implying that there will be more times Till must climax, and then holds one up like it's a threat. "If that's what you really believe, then you have nothing to worry about, do you."

"It won't work," Till says, in denial. Ivan scents mild panic; he's telling himself that, not Ivan. His eyes settle on the needle and looks away. "Don't. Don't do it again."

Ivan joins him in bed, settling between Till's legs. "I'm not giving you a choice, babe."

"H-huh— no, I can't—" Till's hands come down to his spent, loose pussy to shield the potential invasion.

The smile Ivan offers edges on evil. "Shall I tie your wrists together again?"

"...No," Till huffs, not moving his hands still.

Ivan easily grips on both of his wrists with one hand, pinning them over his head. His holes continue to offer a lewd sight. "Did you piss yourself earlier?"

Till grimaces in that same manner he does when he's humiliated. "I... can't... I don't remember," he says, face so red he may be steaming. He shakes his head. "Please... I'll suck you off. I can't cum again."

To that, Ivan laughs, his grip still tight around his wrists. "I guess that's only fair. You haven't tasted my cum yet, have you? Let's see what you can do."

He lets go of Till's wrists and shifts himself next to him to lie down. He has a thought that Till may be able to escape like this, but perhaps on a day when he hasn't been fucked into submission. There's a flash of an expression across Till's face that may be a fresh bout of rebellion, but it seems nausea washes over him. His mouth continues to drool like he could hurl at any moment, so it'll be a testament if he can really suck Ivan off in this state.

"If I... if I suck you off, you can't fuck me again," Till tries to compromise, rolling over to fit himself between Ivan's legs, eyeing his cock like he's too full for something so big.

Ivan's smile remains deceptive; almost better when it's outright mean, parting his legs wider. He doesn't mean it when he replies, "Sure," because it's a fucking lie.

Till hesitantly takes Ivan's cock into his hand, curling around it and staring like he doesn't believe it's still hard. When he puts the head through his lips, he's slow and uncertain. Ivan rakes his fingers over his skull, feeling his sweat dampening his roots.

"I know you're better at sucking cock than that. Need a lesson?" Ivan reaches over and grips onto Till's ass. "Besides that, I can tell the formula is working. You're not even complaining about nausea anymore— you must be craving my cock."

Till pulls back. "Not—" but he's not going to try to argue it right now. He knows he can't, especially when his scent has become less stressed. Till leans in and takes Ivan's cock into his mouth, focused, and Ivan can feel his piercing stroke deliciously along the underside. His grip tightens around his skull.

"Not bad, Till—" he praises smoothly, guiding Till's head down to take more of his cock a bit more each time he bobs it. Ivan pushes down particularly deep into his throat, poking the back of it, and Till makes a strangled noise, wet breathing through his nose. His tongue attempts to swallow around him.

Of course Ivan's going to take a picture. Till doesn't even notice the snaps of his phone, taking him deep until Ivan can feel his uneven, shallow breaths against his dark pubic hair. "You're amazing. Are you enjoying yourself?"

Till peers up at him, half-lidded, his cheeks red from the heat gathered there and from Ivan slapping him. He doesn't look like he hates it. Ivan lets go of his head and allows him to come up for air when he begins to struggle. And when his mouth is finally freed from his cock, a long string of viscous saliva connects the tip of his pink tongue to Ivan's tip. It's a sight he wishes he could snap a photo of before it's cruelly gone. Till pants for breath for a moment, open-mouthed and trembling, and Ivan brushes the damp bangs clinging to his cheeks, cradling his face.

Surprisingly, Till shudders and presses into Ivan's cock.

Ivan's laugh is breathless. "Hah... can't get enough, babe? You want me to cum inside your mouth?"

His answer is a barely-audible moan, taking Ivan easily back into his mouth, and Till's hand makes up for where his jaw is too sore to. But the rush isn't from eagerness; Till strokes and pumps and licks and sucks his cock wonderfully and quickly, but it's because he wants it to be over. Ivan doesn't even have to assist him; he merely pats on his hair the way he likes but is too prideful to admit. And he touches his exposed, flushing red shoulders before another groan is wrung out of him, inching closer to a climax. "Good— good boy. You're such a good omega, Till."

Till makes a strained noise and swallows around Ivan's cock. By now Ivan's scent has blanketed him. Any other night Till would be complaining about the migraines and nausea, but now he just sucks with a fervor that Ivan can pretend to be eagerness. Ivan's close; Till probably knows this because his hand squeezes tighter around Ivan's cock and cradles his balls, cheeks hollowing out as he tries to take and fit more of him in his mouth.

"Just— just like that—" Ivan croons, and then he shoves Till back deep into his throat, shooting directly down it. It surprises him, even, how much he's able to cum still, and Till struggles against him, managing to break free and enabling Ivan to instead shoot the last of his load into his face. Till glares at Ivan, and—

He's going to spit out his cum, isn't he?

Ivan shoves his palm over his mouth and nose, blocking his air passage ways, and commands: "No. Swallow."

Till's eyes are wider than usual, shaking his head, his irises vibrating as they glare at Ivan's equally frantic gaze, even crazier. He resists for as long as his limited breath would allow him, and then he's swallowing Ivan's hot cum down his throat. Makes sure he can see the lump travel down his throat.

Only then does Ivan finally let go, watching Till like observing a newly born fawn trying to use its limbs. "You did it, babe."

Till heaves a wet breath, coughs, and swallows some more. "I... did it." He sounds confused and a little satisfied, and then he looks at Ivan. Whatever expression Ivan has on his face right now seems to alarm Till, and he leans away slightly. "Ivan..."

Ivan's smiling, of course, and he's innocuously laying Till down and spreading his legs. "Hm?"

Till shakes his head, his limbs too weak to push Ivan's prying hands away. "Don't— don't fuck me again. I can't."

"But I want to use you like this. You look absolutely delectable. You're leaking slick already." Ivan doesn't know if that part is actually true, but he can attest to the fact that Till's scent has become confused and more sweet.

"...No," Till keeps shaking his head in denial, but the fear in his pheromones do tell that he's starting to believe it somewhat. He tries to keep his thighs closed like exposing them would show him a reality he's still choosing to ignore.

"We're so close. With enough time, too, I'll be able to get you pregnant." Ivan is entirely serious in tone, and he hopes he's conveying that in his smile and voice. His cock still hasn't gotten soft despite the things it and he has put Till through so far. "Which hole next, honey?"

Till tenses, more panic in the kicks of his legs. "Can't. I'm sore—"

Ivan already has his cock against his well-used pussy, his labia seem to part for him automatically. "You can handle it," he says, and unceremoniously enters Till again. His walls tremble around him, and clenching, and then he sees Till's eyes roll back, his expression turning vaguely vacant. "Haha... you're so sexy. Is that all you've got? Getting fucked into submission like the proper omega you are?"

Despite it, he still whimpers vaguely as Ivan starts to roll his hips, fucking him gently. Till squirms, his breath shallow. "Don't wanna... not omega. Don't want it—"

"You're meant for this— I'll fuck you, and fill you, and plug you with my cum until you accept it," he promises, his pace relentless.

Tears come down Till's eyes more easily this time, but this wouldn't be the first time, as Till has always been a crier when he's overwhelmed and overstimulated. "No," he whines, his hips trembling, utterly falling apart.

Ivan's hips cant and cock drives deeper into him, and his knees suddenly shift forward to spread Till's thighs wider, folding his body in half as his cock reaches his cervix. Amazingly, Ivan begins to feel a tingling swell at the base with a phantom sensation of a knot. Not a full one, but a sign that the omega pheromones are lingering. His mouth hovers over Till's moist, drooling lips, as he grinds his cock deep in that sore, over-sensitive spot inside him, over and over and over again.

"Do you feel it...? My knot. It's there—"

Mere exaggerated sex-talk, but Till's breath hitches like the suggestion alone is enough. "Yeah... ngh. Knot me. Knot me," he hisses, and groans, and whines, and cries. "Please. Knot me."

Even when they were casually fucking, and even when they engaged in some roleplay, Till has never said those words before — 'knot me'. And as an alpha, he surely has never been knotted before, has never desired it before. Now he begs for it openly and Ivan wishes so deeply he could— but soon, soon he will be able to.

The squelches have become noticeably louder; Till's cunt was already filled to the brim with cum, but now Ivan's enormous cock is shoving the lot of it back into his womb.

"Oh- fuck," Till cries, tears pricking at his eyes. He bucks into Ivan's next thrusts and then he cums again, walls convulsing around Ivan's cock.

Ivan kisses Till in the wake of it, not needing to cum himself to enjoy this part. He swallows all of his ensuing noises, breaking only for air and licking away his tears and snot. His cock twitches at the sight, at the mess he's made out of his little Till. "You did it," he whispers.

"I did it?" he sounds breathless and distant, like he had just woken up from a dream.

"Mhm. Open your mouth for me." Ivan moves to grip on Till's chin to steady him, and it jostles their connection sweetly, making Till groan. He's confused but unquestioning as he opens his mouth, breath hitching as to not make any noise against the pressure of Ivan's cock inside him. Satisfied, Ivan gathers saliva at the center of his tongue and spits directly into Till's mouth. "Your next dosage. Swallow."

Till's eyes are wide, but he suddenly shudders, clenching deliciously with his irises rolling back in bliss—

And then he swallows.

Till passes out many points throughout the days that Ivan keeps him. He isn't even aware how much time has passed, and it's entirely by design. He doesn't allow Till to see natural light, and he had taken away all his clocks. The less the thinks about it, the more smoothly the process will go. All things considered, Till has acclimated well, even though he continues to question it throughout.

"What d'you mean you planned this since the first night we met?" he suddenly recalls, but with a manner of someone playing along with antics rather than someone who's accepted the twisted reality that the guy he's fucking is a psycho.

"Well, I knew you were the one, even though you were an alpha, so I figured I'd change you. Don't you feel special?"

"...I don't wanna be an omega."

"That's too bad." Ivan is draped against Till's back in a spooning position he leans over and pecks the corner of Till's lip. "I love you."

The words are weird to say aloud. He believes that it's on his mind all the time: the first time he met Till was at a bar he happened to be meeting someone at; the scheduled band had an emergency that forced them to go into their standby bands, the only available group being Unknown. He was captivated in the first uproarious strum of his electric guitar that demanded Ivan's attention, and — honest to God, he had never felt anything remotely close to the feeling of being around Till. He was willing to put up with so much — clashing alpha pheromones and all — but he knew that to Till, Ivan will always just be a fling until he found the 'right omega'. Ivan couldn't even imagine it — no, it's precisely because he can imagine a future that Till could live and strive happily as he is without Ivan, and... and.

He can't have that.

"Ha ha..." Till doesn't turn his head away at Ivan's words and lips.

"I do. I love you," Ivan continues. The sounds more right every time he says it.

"My hips are numb."

"That's great," Ivan says excitedly. "Means you can't escape. Are you gonna try to escape?"

Till's brows furrow. "What? I can just leave."

Ivan laughs breathily, staring down at Till's red face. "No you can't. I'd have to punish you if you try," he taunts.

"You... already punished me," Till says, slightly defeated.

"The punishment is over when the lesson is learned. I wouldn't consider it learned if you tried to leave without my permission." Ivan leans down and kisses his sore cheek this time, where he'd slapped him earlier for punishment. "But maybe you're into that."

Till glances away, stirring. "I have to leave. I have stuff to do."

"I cleared your schedule. You're fine. I'll pay for your expenses and rent."

His band is pretty underground and undergoing some personnel changes; they're looking for a new drummer and keyboardist ever since Dewey and Issac left to pursue other opportunities, so the band is in a little bit of a limbo with temporary members cycling in and out, frustrating Till in the process. Luckily, Ivan has a lot of expendable money. His entire venture with Unknown, eventually Unknown Sorrow, was a bit of a personal investment, but even then he's investing in Till before he invested in the band. But for them to keep this partnership, one of them has to change.

"Let me take care of you. Forget everything about alphahood—" Till's pheromones spike at the mention, but Ivan keeps him clutched. "I'll be your alpha."

"I'm an alpha," Till hisses vehemently, but Ivan knows he's starting to falter. "Why didn't you change yourself if you wanted me so badly."

Till isn't going to take this lying down. He rarely does; what he does enjoy, is being dicked down. Ivan guides his cock to the loose opening of his cunt, still overflowing with slick and cum, and pushes back inside. Till moans like the little whore that he becomes when he's filled with Ivan's cock, arching into where the fullest part of his girth strokes him just right. His face was twisted in irritation, but it quickly fades to pleased, dizzied pleasure.

Ivan's laugh is breathy and mocking in Till's ear.

"That's why."

Ivan wouldn't say that their pheromones are neutral now; it's more like he doesn't get the pinching, borderline-stabbing migraines when they both don't take their blockers. That was the real reason why Till didn't agree to live with Ivan; his alpha pheromones are thick, and while Till can handle being around other alpha, it was their scents that interacted negatively the most. Still it never stopped them from fucking around and eventually fucking.

But aside from Till's pheromones changing, there's also the matter of the mating bite.

Simply put: mating bites only biologically work between alpha and omega. Of course, couples of all manner of dynamics that aren't traditionally alpha and omega have found ways to make this ritual as authentic for the mas possible. Even Ivan has left a fair number of bites on Till's shoulders where he shouldn't have, and Till has done the same. Because Ivan has neither slept nor desired to sleep with any omega, his trysts only involve beta men, if anything at all.

He only knows what should happen in a real 'mating bite' on paper, clinical definition — the alpha's senses would be flooded with a rush of endorphins, a wave of pure bliss akin to a climax; and the omega would be propelled into a cotton-like, fuzzy state, like a numbing agent for the mind and body, producing more slick and preparing the omega for mating.

Every time Ivan has bitten Till, now, has elicited different responses. Most of the time, it's painful, or sometimes arousing for Till, but at this hour of the experiment, Till's complaints die out as Ivan sinks his sharp teeth into his shoulder, adding to many bite marks he's left there already. The panic in his scent fades out into something much sweeter, leaving even Till all confused.

"I-Ivan, what is this?"

A real mating bite wouldn't leave Till with any mental wherewithal to ask questions; that's how Ivan knows it hasn't fully settled, but— but if Till noticed enough to ask, then it's good enough of an indicator towards the end.

"You know what it is."

"Fuck you." But there's absolutely no fight left. Till shakes his head weakly after the brief moment of posturing. "No."

Ivan's laughter is soft, at least — less stabbing, and less mocking.

"What hole do you want me to use next, kitten?" he asks, drawing lazy circles around Till's swollen, abused clit.

Till stirs slightly at the name, shuddering. His voice is small when he says, "My... pussy."

It's said almost without thinking, his legs opening automatically.

Till cums almost immediately once Ivan enters him, and he even voluntarily rolls onto his stomach, arching his hips. His wild green eyes peer back at Ivan over the flush of his shoulders. "Ivan," he says, and he tries at wiggling his hips. "Will... it really work?"

"Mhm." Ivan can barely contain his smile.

He learns so quickly.

Till has been feverishly ill for a week and three nights into Ivan's freak experiment. He's still mostly in denial about it, convinced that Ivan is putting him in a torture chamber of kinky roleplay that they didn't negotiate beforehand. To be clear, they never negotiated any of their sex. Who the hell does that for casual flings, Till would say, or would have an expression that says so, and who knew that if he ran away from conversations long enough, he'd end up in a situation where he very much would have liked to negotiate.

Still, Ivan can't regret any of it when he knows this is what he wants, deep down. It was in every of his sneers and snide remarks; it was in his chides and comments at Ivan specifically.

"Bet you wish you could knot me," he'd taunt, riding Ivan's cock like it'd escape him if he slowed down just a little. "Got yourself a big alpha knot, and it's useless," Till said another time before deepthroating him. "If only I was an omega, huh? Do you cry at night wishing that? Haha—"

The thing is, you don't say that shit to Ivan. Ivan, who never covets, whose desires are superficial, and whom was a vessel for the ambitions of much more powerful people.

Till was an anomaly. So random that he one day stumbled upon his show.

Ivan can admit it was love at first sight now, even if he didn't know it at the time.

And Ivan has never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted Till.

While Till remains in denial, Ivan continues to let him live in the delusion.

He fabricates the idea that their extreme sex roleplay has left Till in pheromone sickness, and that honestly isn't that far removed from the truth. And then there's the idea he planted in Till's fuzzy mind that Unknown Sorrow is on hiatus now; it's the perfect time for Till to get sick, he said, and Till found himself being unable to be too mad when he goaded Ivan the way he did. He had known a reckoning was coming and he was excited for it. He just didn't know how far Ivan was capable of going — right now, even, Till can't entirely wrap his head around it.

Ivan thinks he knew Till's heat was coming before Till knows it is. He's acutely attuned to Till's scent now, after all, but Till thinks it's the pheromone sickness. He squirms in the mattress like there's an ache deep in his bones he can't stretch out. Ivan has helped make a nest out of the bed, putting his favorite things and fabrics that have his strongest scent. Ivan knows he's changed because Till gets placated when he inhales one of Ivan's jackets.

"Everything fucking hurts," Till groans, but he keeps Ivan's jacket draped over his body.

"Where, babe? Show me."

Till's hand moves to draw lazy strokes over his navel. "Fuck, my stomach."

Ivan covers Till's hand with his own and takes over the gentle strokes. His skin is already so red and damp with a sheen layer of sweat. "Sheesh, you're flushed all over," he marvels as he kisses Till's exposed shoulder.

"S-shut up," Till shivers despite his body breaking out in a full sweat, damp to his touch, and squirming in discomfort. "Are you sure... I don't need to go to a doctor?"

"You've just got a mild fever is all. They'd just tell you to drink lots of water." It probably isn't an exaggeration to say so; the doctors wouldn't be able to find anything wrong with Till necessarily. Sometimes alpha do change their dynamics — a rare case, but not unheard of for young adults. All Ivan did with the formula was guide him into the other direction while he's unmated. Considering how easily it'd gone, there's likely a part of Till that wanted it too, buried somewhere deep that desired to be taken care of by an alpha, too.

His dynamic has changed completely now. It's evident in the sweat that glistens his exposed skin like his body is burning off the last remains of his alphahood, replaced violently with a sweet scent that finally, finally, isn't naturally rejected by Ivan's.

Ivan helps with Till's sweatpants and underwear, and Till maneuvers slowly to assist; he's not at all surprised to find his cunt completely drenched. On the pad of his underwear is pink spotting — his scent is so dizzyingly sweet that Ivan almost missed it.

"Are you having a period now of all times?"

Till looks down, rubbing over his navel again. Ivan feels a bit of satisfaction knowing that's Till's womb aching for him. It'll take Till some time, but he'll understand it as so.

"Uh... how long has it been since the last one?"

This time, Ivan can't help the way his lips curve a little meanly. "Was it acceptable for me to keep track for you, even though we're not dating?" he laughs.

It's a bullshit question, and if Till was at his sharpest — admittedly it's entirely Ivan's fault he isn't at this moment — he'd remember that Ivan is creepily accurate when it came time for his period. Ever since Till presented as an alpha, he stopped taking birth control because alpha have a statistically lower chance of getting pregnant and even lower chances when the person you're fucking on the regular is also an alpha— but besides that, years of taking birth control gave Till irregular periods which is supposed to balance out as his body matures. In the time he's known Till, he's only had two periods.

The answer is six months ago, but that's neither here nor there.

Till grimaces slightly, and Ivan taps at his knee. "Spread your legs for me."

Without thinking, Till parts his thighs open and doesn't fuss when Ivan presses his fingers inside; his walls are worn and tired from abuse, but it still tries to clench around them.

"Let's see what we have here—" When he pulls his fingers out, fresh, vibrant blood coats him from the second knuckles to the tip of his fingers. "Wow. Heavy period then, huh?"

"Shit." Till tries to close his legs, embarrassed at the sight of it. "Sorry—"

"Haha, it's alright." Ivan keeps his knee pinned, preventing him from moving, and nonchalantly brings his blood-coated fingers to lick them clean from his skin. His blood is sweeter than even honey, but maybe Ivan's just a little biased. "Why do you look so embarrassed? This isn't you."

Till's nose wrinkles. "I feel like shit, I told you," he grumbles, like that explains everything. "I'm having the worst... fuckin' cramps... it's so damn hot, and you're being disgusting."

He's got Ivan there. Guilty as hell. Ivan shrugs, pulling back. He'd already come prepared, and he reaches over at the bucket of warm water and several wash clothes. "Just relax. I'll wipe you with a cooling cloth — how does that sound?"

"But I wanna shower," he whines.

"You can't stand to shower. You just want me to bathe you in the tub," Ivan says gently. "You know we wouldn't get anything done that way." To be fair, he doesn't think they'll get much done regardless; Till's scent is getting sweeter. It's a miracle Ivan resist as much as he has even with Till's blood still heavy on his taste buds. "You think you can keep it together?"

"Talking too much." Till presses the back of his hand against his sweating forehead, his hips shifting. "Ivan."

There's urgency in Till's voice that he likely can't name. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Till's breath hitches. "Don't call me that," he scolds in a tone that he only uses when he's unexpectedly into something.

"Haha... any headaches, migraines?" Ivan presses his hand against his sweaty temple, tugging away at the strands of teal hair clinging to his damp skin.

Till rolls his head against Ivan's hand. "It's... yeah."

"Not the kind of aches you used to have, correct?" Not that Till would be able to remember difference, but it's an important distinction to make.

"It's okay. Whatever your ailments are, I'll heal you better than any doctor could. Do you trust me?" Ivan takes one of Till's wrists and guides his entire arm over his shoulder, exposing his armpit. His grip is tight when he drags the towel over his bicep, and then scrubbing gently over his pit. Till squirms and squirms— "You're so cute," he coos, wiping away any last offensive alpha pheromones.

"I... I'm not cute. Shut up." Despite his scolding, Till tries to lean against Ivan's touch.

Ivan finishes wiping the warm, soft washcloth across Till's flushing skin, scrubbing his other pit against his tired thrashing and then he moves to spoon him from behind, guided by the way he continuously pushes back into Ivan's body and groin, like he's absentmindedly curling himself into Ivan.

It's strangely intimate when Till initiates it. Ivan tucks his chin over Till's shoulder. "Is this better?"

"Feels... okay," he replies, leaning against Ivan's firm frame.

Ivan plants his nose into the crook of his neck where his pheromones ooze strongest and inhales deeply. The scent alone makes his cock throb. "You smell like an omega," Ivan says finally. His hand is moving the towel over Till's navel.

"You smell like—" Till trails off, staring at Ivan's hand, and then rocking into it.

Ivan smiles against his shoulder. "Do I smell like your alpha?"

Till shudders, a moan nearly escaping him, but he hitches it barely in time. "My alpha," he repeats absently.

Affection and instinctive protectiveness swells in Ivan's chest, and his cock throbs hard against Till's backside, making his feverish partner shudder. "I'm yours and you're mine. My omega."

"B-but, I'm not..." Till's voice trails off, like he's forgetting how to protest. He instead sinks back against Ivan's chest.

"Yes you are. I can smell your heat coming." Ivan kisses his temple, trailing small pecks until his lips reach his fluttering eyelids. "I wanna knot you."

Till's head lulls back into Ivan's chest, too exhausted to argue. "Why... why do you keep playing this dumb game?"

Ivan's hand rakes over Till's sensitive nipple; his chest and nipple look fuller and more swollen than normal, now that he's really thinking about it. Not that he's never not thinking about them.

"You know I love playing games with you, Till," he teases in a syrupy deep voice.

With a hiss, Till presses his hand over his belly. "Wash me."

Ivan's breath is hot in Till's ear, knowing that it's slowly unraveling him. "How do you want to be washed, sweetheart?"

Till shivers. "W-with your hands."

"Mhm," Ivan hums, sliding his hand from his chest down to his navel to press where Till's hand is, and then he moves his hand lower to play with his sensitive clit. "You're so hard."

"Ah—" Till whimpers, hips shifting and thighs spreading. He doesn't even think about it, making way for Ivan's fingers. "That's— not," he starts and fails to finish.

Ivan doesn't tease Till for long. He slides two fingers into his warm, clenching pussy and pumping in and out of him given the spotting blood and sweet slick. "You're so hot inside... can I fuck you like this?"

"N...now?" He sounds uncertain, panting with arousal. "...I'm bleeding, asshole."

"You're so loose," Ivan continues. He obviously doesn't give a shit about the blood and the resulting mess. "I wouldn't even need to prep you."

"Whose fault is that?" Till grumbles. Normally, whenever Ivan would get close to his neck, Till would get particularly nauseous and particularly pissed off, shoving Ivan away as a result. Now, it seems to do the opposite; his head dips to the side like a puppet with its strings cut. "Do... something."

Till ruts into his fingers like they're not deep enough and clenching too like they're not thick enough. Ivan knows what Till needs, and he pulls his fingers free to release his cock from his waistband without entirely undressing, merely shoving it down to his thigh.

"You're so impatient. How's your headache...? Won't this make it worse?"

"I...dunno." His breath his heavy, and it hitches when he's been left empty for a beat too long. "Ivan."

"Yes, babe, I got you," Ivan says. His tip catches at Till's entrance, and it spreads the lips wide before offering a smooth glide. Till shakes, mouth opening as small, choked gasps escape him, hips arching as if trying to swallow more of Ivan's cock inside him. It's a torturously slow slide; Ivan has to grip on Till's hip to stop him from rushing it — but his satisfaction is still heard and felt by his groan as Ivan finally, finally seats himself completely inside the wet, warm, plushy confines of his cunt. Till buzzes and spasms all around him,. and Ivan coils his arms around his middle intimately. His breath is hot in Till's ear. "You can stop being in denial about it now, Till. I know you know."

Till clenches instinctively. "What's... what's wrong with me...?" His words are slurred with pleasure, body running hotter than it'd been at any point during his fever.

"Maybe you're going through your first heat. I wouldn't call that something 'wrong' with you," Ivan says. He keeps his cock buried and seated inside Till's hot walls and strokes his hand over the vague, protruding shape of his cock over his navel.

"My first what? No." Despite his denial, Till tilts his hips and shifts, like he's trying to fuck himself on Ivan's enormous cock. "Not a heat— fuck you."

"Wanna see if I can knot you?"

Till's movement suddenly freeze, like he's caught on the very word. Then his walls tighten around him again, causing Ivan to groan. "Alpha can't... knot other alpha," Till says, voice breathy.

"Mhm. That's why I've turned you. Does your pussy ache, thinking about being plugged up my cum?" He knows it is, because his walls won't stop spasming around him like he wants Ivan to move. "Do you wanna get pregnant?"

"I can't," Till says, or insists.

"What if I told you you can?" His teeth scrapes at Till's sensitive skin, right at his trap muscle. Ivan had left a test bite there earlier, and it's still swollen. The next bite would surely seal the deal, but he wants Till to be more lucid for it. "How much longer are you gonna be in denial about it? You don't even complain about my scent anymore."

Till closes his eyes like he's suppressing something. "It's... it's because- I'm sick." He tries and fail to keep fucking himself on his cock, but he's held still by Ivan's domineering grip. "I'm sick, and— you're taking care of me."

"Since we're not dating, you're just taking advantage of my kindness and my cock, aren't you?"

"We're not—" Till falters.

Ivan pulls back, and Till squirms as he starts scenting panic, but he doesn't keep Till waiting for too long. He pushes back into him and thrusts back inside particularly, making Till shiver and thrash. "Tell me what you need."

"K-knot me."

His cock throbs and Till clenches in response. Ivan kisses the corner of Till's mouth. "Be patient. We'll get there."

"I don't wanna be patient," Till whines, hips jolting into Ivan's, more agitated than usual.

"Be good," Ivan scolds, kissing a final brief peck before getting them in a better position for the eventual knot. Has to pull out for this, and Till's face twists in distress, hand scrambling for Ivan's cock as if he can force it back inside. There's blood on his cock — streaks that will undoubtedly stain the bedsheets, but Ivan hardly cares about that. They almost fucked the first night they met but the fact that they're both alpha and that he was on his rare periods prevented them from fucking, so Ivan's kind of bitter about that. Water under the bridge now though. "What about your period?"

"My—? I dunno, just—" he ruts back into Ivan, needing him back inside.

Still spooning Till from behind, Ivan holds the under side of Till's knee up and spreads him wide in, letting it hook over his elbow as to prepare his body for the knot they both know is coming. His cock slips inside and Till shudders.

"I got you. Who knew you could be needier than you already are."

It takes a moment for Ivan to establish a new pace; he buries his cock deep inside of Till and easily coats himself with his slick and blood to quicken the pace. The bed is too expensive, too used to this kind of fucking to creak, yet still the headboard thumps against the wall in protest to Ivan's punishing pace. Till's pussy seems to mold in Ivan's shape as he continues to lose himself in the pleasure of being fucked senseless with his dynamic completely flipped.

"Ah- oh, oh!" comes Till's wanton moans as Ivan thrusts into him, again and again. "Need- need it deep—!"

Ivan's hand moves over Till's navel; his shape has been protruding there every time he fucks deep. He presses there so Till can feel it the next time he bucks inside. "Here?"

Till's wild eyes travel there, and he instinctively touches there. "Yeah," he blurts, breath hitching like he's already close again. "Want it. Your— your knot!"

It won't be difficult at all for Ivan to form a knot now. Till has biologically changed. Ivan doesn't know if it's temporary or permanent; he didn't think he'd get this far. But as long as their scents are finally, biologically harmonious, Ivan can knot Till. Till isn't even quite there with his heat, but Ivan can feel the opportunity to knot him burn at base in strange tingles and pressures. Now he just want to bask in Till's raw desires. He wants to hear it all.

"Are you mine, Till?" Ivan asks between thrusts, between lewd slaps of skin, the sounds too obscene to filter out. "Are you? Say you're mine—"

"Yours," Till's voice trembles. "Yours. I'm yours. I'm yours!"

Their sex dissolves into equal parts wet slaps and sweet nothings — words exchanges that neither will likely remember in the wake of it, like two drunken men spilling their heart out but neither is really listening. Ivan snaps his hips as he feels that foreign tingle swell into a hardness that rivals the integrity of his fully erect cock. It grinds at Till's entrance like a threat, but Till, now an omega, is welcoming it.

He's close. He's hiccuping words that never come out, that Ivan can't possibly understand. Then Till sobs as he pushes into Ivan's knot and cums in sharp jolts, his walls spasming and tightening like it's prepping for Ivan to cum too.

Ivan's close behind for sure. At the same time Till cums, Ivan drives his cock deep — home — and it only takes a few grinds, a few more rolls and gyrates of his hips, the obscene size of his knot knocking on the outstretched pussy like a threat.

And then his knot at last — at last — pops inside. Till's walls vibrate all around him as he spills the knot-loaded cum through the cervix and pushing directly into his womb, and he kisses Till through his crying neutral tears, from pain and from overstimulation and whatever else that makes tears flow so easily from his beautiful waterline. Till is making so many little sobs and noises that Ivan eventually kisses and swallows them in muffles.

Till whines when Ivan pulls way. "Ivan—"

"My omega," Ivan coos. He's close to finishing, his cock throbbing so hard that Till squirms weakly every time.

Panic rises in his chest, his hips shaking, but he's pinned on Ivan's knot. "I— I dunno how. Ivan, I—" but his protests die as he leans down to sink his teeth into Till's shoulder. A real mating bite. Till whimpers and becomes placated, walls relaxing, and his face becoming less stressed — rather, he looks like he's visibly drugged — but all he really is is an omega being knotted for the first time. And he looks at last utterly blissed out.

"I-Ivan... alpha..." Till tries to sniff away his snot. "Please."

Ivan kisses and licks his water line, and licks he spilling blood from the fresh mating bite, and licks away his snot and sweat too, not to waste any fluid from his gift of a body. Till's belly swells with Ivan's cum and cock and knot. He's an utter mess, but to Ivan, he's never looked more beautiful.

"Here." Ivan takes Till's shaking hand and guides it to where their bodies' connection. He makes Till touch the skin that connects them, where his skin has been stretched out thin to accommodate the obscene girth of Ivan's knot. He's sensitive there, clearly, because a single touch makes him shudder.

"It's... it's—"

"Yeah," Ivan's tone is full of wicked mirth. Of an alpha that was able to utterly dominate and come out on top. Till is his, utterly. Knotted, mated, and so utterly filled with Ivan.

Till touches the skin again, and his eyes roll back as he clenches down, a final, weak orgasm seeming to wash over him. Or that's what Ivan think it is — it's hard to tell now. But he passes out, and his walls relax in his wake.

Peace at last.

Seven weeks later...

The first week, after the initial honeymoon period, Till barely spoke to Ivan.

Ivan was right that one time: the band had been in limbo enough through personnel changes that it was also the perfect time, Till decided, to stop talking to Ivan. He has he suspicions, but Ivan is convinced that he doesn't hate the fact that he was turned. It's just the fact that their pheromones are too dangerous in proximity now — he admitted to Ivan that he hated how weak he felt against Ivan's scent.

So, as they say: 'If you love somebody, let them go.' Or some bullshit like that. He had to force himself to believe in the bullshit because he hadn't much else to cling to, just the lingering scent of Till's turned omega pheromones.

Ivan has no regrets changing Till when he was helping him become what he's meant to be, but the fact that he's sensitive to Till's scent means that the reverse was also true. He knew exactly how to avoid Ivan even when he wears patches and masks his alpha pheromones.

And for a while, it was like that. Ivan just had to believe that eventually, Till will come back to him.

On the thirty first day, he gets a mysterious text and an access code to a hotel; it instructs him to come as soon as possible, along with some additional steps to get to them.

Ivan, of course, assumes it's a trap. Whoever was trying to bait him knew that Ivan's anticipating a sign or a text like this, so he figured, if it's a trap, it's a trap worth walking into.

But he stands in front room 306 with the keycard in hand after following the rather straight-forward instructions on how to acquire such. Standing there, it's apparent that it's Till's doing. His scent is all over his floor, muted but sweet. He must know that Ivan's coming. Without hesitation, taps the keycard to unlock the door, and steps inside to—

A fucking omega nest.

"Ivan."

Till is calling him from the bed that he's converted into a nest, and it's been decorated with many little items from Till's own apartment and also additional items that he'd stolen from Ivan, too. Things that Ivan never knew he was missing in the first place, never one to be too attached to his own things.

He's naked save for his usual accessories that he knows Ivan likes. He kept those exact same things on when Ivan had Till tied up that one time, and his legs are spread out to entice Ivan.

Even his knees become a little weak at the sight of it. Thank goodness the door automatically closes and locks behind him as he steps towards Till's voice and omega scent, in heat.

"It aches—" he whines, rolling into his stomach and propping his hips up. "Alpha. We're mated, aren't we? Take— take responsibility."

Ivan doesn't have to be asked twice.