Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Are you sure this is a thing other people do?” Till asks, suspicious eyes darting over to Ivan. He’s rolling his chair up to the desk to take his place manning the keyboard, and he lays his long fingers atop the keys in the home row like they were taught to do as kids. His spine is straight as an arrow, and he looks completely serious as he turns his head to meet Till’s eyes. 

“Teenage boys watch pornography together all the time,” Ivan confirms. His expression doesn’t waver even a little bit. He is serious, isn’t he? 

Really, Till has no reason to be wary. He doesn’t have any other friends beside Ivan, apart from the guys he bums cigarettes off of behind the bleachers while he waits for Ivan to get done with football practice. Ivan, on the other hand, has lots of friends apart from Till, and he bears witness to locker room talk five days out of the week. Of course he’d know if this is normal or not. 

“Can you at least say ‘porn’ like a normal person?” Till folds his legs up into his chair, propping his chin up on his knees. Ivan’s fingers fly over the keys, his mouse glides smoothly across the branded pad that came with the computer, and he opens his web browser. When he types ‘porn’ into the address bar, there are no suggested websites that appear. He either never watches it, or he clears his history every time like a creepy stalker freak. 

Ivan adds ‘ography’ to the end of the word before he hits enter. Till despises him. Really and truly, he hates Ivan. 

“What kind of porn do you watch, Till?” Ivan inquires, clicking onto the first website suggested. When it loads, it prompts Ivan to confirm he’s over 18, and it takes him a second to navigate to the button. He doesn’t seem practiced at this, but maybe he uses a different website? Ivan probably pays for fetish porn on some underground website Till’s never heard of. 

“Don’t-“ Till starts, but his voice gets caught awkwardly halfway through the word. He clears his throat, lifting his hands to scrub his palms over his cheeks. Why are they so hot all of the sudden? “Please don’t say my name right now. That’s so weird.”

On screen, the top performing videos are displayed. There’s a row of explicit thumbnails featuring women getting dicks put into every hole imaginable, and they all have titles like ‘Hot step sister gets fucked by big dick brother’. Why are people so into badly acted step sibling porn? The advertisements along the top and the sides aren’t any better - big fake boobs and AI girls bouncing on gigantic dicks. ‘Play this game. You won’t last more than 2 minutes!’ Till can’t help his cringe, and he drops his eyes to the desk. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Ivan is, at least on the surface, completely unaffected by the filth on his computer screen. His skin tone is even and unblemished, and his expression is totally flat as he turns his gaze onto Till. He can feel the piercing sting of red eyes on the side of his head, and it catapults the blaze on his face onto the tips of his ears. Why the hell did he agree to this?

Till doesn’t answer. He can’t do it. How is he supposed to tell Ivan what he watches when he gets off? How is he supposed to open his mouth and confess that he watches big muscled guys fuck little twinks while he pretends to be them in his head? He can’t. He literally cannot do it. 

Ivan waits. He tilts his head to one side after a painfully long amount of time, thick brows drawing inward at the center. Till chances a look up at him through the cover of his bangs, and there’s an evil fucking glimmer dancing in his eyes. The fucker is enjoying this. He likes when Till is embarrassed. 

“I’ll just pick something, then,” Ivan decides, and the mischievous flicker is suddenly gone. He straightens up in his seat, gotta have perfect posture while you watch porn with your childhood best friend, and slides his cursor over to the video at the top left of the screen. It’s apparently number one on the site right now, titled ‘Horny stepmom fucks stepson while his girlfriend is away’. 

“Not-” Till starts, but his voice gets trapped in his throat again because he can’t fucking keep his cool for one second, apparently. “Not that one. Please don’t pick weird incest stuff.”

Ivan’s lips quirk at the ends, but the amusement fades before Till can be sure if the expression was real. He hums as he scrolls through the home page, and he hovers over another thumbnail. It jolts to life as the cursor pauses on it, showing them a horribly explicit preview of a woman sucking dick before it transitions to show an up close shot of her being penetrated. It’s alarming, but it shouldn’t be considering they are literally on a website dedicated to this kind of content. Is Till a prude? 

“‘Petite tight virgin takes nine inch cock in her barely legal pussy’,” Ivan reads aloud. The flat tone of his voice makes it so much worse than it needs to be. Till wants to strangle him, but that would require him to get closer to Ivan, and he doesn’t think he can handle that right now. “How’s that one?”

Till made a grave mistake agreeing to do this. He really is going to die. He’s not going to leave Ivan’s bedroom the same man he walked into it as. 

“Okay,” he manages to squeak out. He presses his mouth into his knees so he can feel like he’s hiding, but he keeps his eyes on the screen because he does not need Ivan to chastise him about paying attention. He’s bad enough about making sure Till doesn’t look away when they watch movies together. Watching porn in his bedroom has gotta be way worse. 

Unfortunately, Ivan clicks on it. His computer doesn’t take nearly long enough to load the video for Till to be able to mentally prepare himself for what’s about to happen, and then the shitty intro music is booming through his speakers. Ivan turns it down, but only slightly, because his father is working in his office in the opposite wing of the house. Till feels a little like he’s going to scream. Is this really normal?

Neither of them speak. On screen, a young girl with waist length black hair engages in some cheesy back and forth with the most plain looking guy Till’s ever seen. However, he drops his pants, and Till is assured that he is not the most plain guy he’s ever seen from the waist down. His cock is fucking huge , but in a painful looking way instead of a sexy way. Till genuinely can’t fathom that fitting inside of her, but he saw the preview. He knows where it’s going. 

She gets down onto her knees on the carpet between the guy’s feet. With excessively long fingernails, they must be so impractical, she takes his cock into her hand while he manspreads like an asshole, and she leans in to slurp over his dick with so much saliva it drips down the length of it. Gross. Till’s never given a blowjob before, so he can’t really say if it’s necessary, but whatever. It looks gross. She closes her lips around the head of his cock and bobs her head, and she takes it all the way to the base like a fucking champ. No hesitation. The guy winds his fingers into her hair and yanks her head up and down on his dick, and her eyes get teary as he fucks into her throat. Isn’t she supposed to be a virgin? What virgin is doing all of this?

Till chances a single glance over at Ivan. He’s sitting straight backed in his desk chair, and his face remains impassive as he watches the video. He has both eyes glued to the screen like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. He’s not acting like this is weird, just like he’s showing Till some weirdly specific YouTube video about how pens are manufactured or something. Granted, Ivan is a pretty strange guy, but maybe this is supposed to just be chill? They’re just two bros watching a video together. The video just happens to be explicit porn. It’s not weird.

Loud moaning bursts out of the speakers, and Till’s attention snaps back to the video. It is horrendously fake sounding, and the girl’s got this exaggerated expression of world ending pleasure on her face as the guy feeds his dick into her pussy. She’s not even wet, and it looks painful. Till cannot contain his grimace, and he tucks his face deeper into his knees like that’ll make this end sooner. 

The moaning cuts off as Ivan clicks on the video. He’s got all his attention on Till, and he looks genuinely concerned as their eyes meet. Till rarely sees him so distressed. 

“You don’t like this video?” Ivan asks, intensely serious. His mouth is set into a firm line, and Till feels like he’s going to crack under the pressure of his stare. He’s used to Ivan’s weird staring, but it feels too intimate when there’s naked people on his computer screen. 

Till shakes his head, just a tiny back and forth. His hair drifts out of place, and he flicks his bangs to get them out of his eyes. God, his face is so hot, and he can’t hold Ivan’s eye contact for more than a few seconds before he has to look away. He can’t look at the computer, so the next best option is the keyboard. Ivan’s long fingers are splayed across it, returned to that stupid fucking home row, with his other hand curled atop his mouse and poised for action. He has nice hands, well moisturized and neatly groomed. 

“I don’t usually watch stuff like this,” he mumbles, meek and embarrassed. Ivan did ask what kind of porn he watches, but it feels like he’s turning a big spotlight onto himself by admitting what he likes. His face is already so hot. How is he going to take it if Ivan plays something he actually enjoys?

“What do you watch, Till? Bukkake? Gangbang? Perhaps something lighter, like pegging?” A kind smile spreads across his lips, but it makes his snaggletooth poke out, and he looks like a predator about to rip into its dinner. His eyes glint dangerously, but it’s just from the reflection of the screen in them and Till’s own anxiety. “This isn’t going to be an enjoyable experience for either of us if you’re miserable.”

It takes him a second to blink back the shock of Ivan knowing any of those words, but he’s throwing them out like he doesn’t know their definitions, just that they exist. He won’t bite, not this time. Till shifts his weight from side to side in the chair, tightening his embrace around his legs. He grinds his chin into his knees as he tries to summon the courage to get his voice out of his anxiously churning gut, and his eyes dart all over. This is Ivan, Ivan who ate bugs to freak him out when they were in grade school, Ivan who would insist they share a single popsicle and that they had to lick it at the same time or it wouldn’t taste as good. Ivan has always been a freak, but it’s a freak level Till is familiar with. He can’t outfreak Ivan. 

“I watch gay porn, usually.” It comes out as a shy little mumble, and he can’t look at Ivan as he says it. For a few seconds, nothing comes, and Till’s stomach flips. Ivan is weirdly silent, weirder than usual, and Till feels like he’s going to be sick with anxiety. 

Finally, he can’t wonder about his reaction anymore. He lifts his gaze to Ivan’s face and finds his eyes already on him, wide and stunned. Ivan’s jaw is slackened, just enough that Till knows he’s caught off guard. His eyes are always the thing that give him away. He usually does a good job masking the rest. His eyes do it, and the fact that Till’s known him since they were in diapers. 

“What? You already know I’m bi,” he defends in a huff, snapping his attention away as he scrubs his hands across his face. His neck is so warm, and he feels like he’s going to burn up into ash in Ivan’s chair. His mom will be so sad when Ivan brings home an urn to her. Death by porn. 

Ivan clears his throat, and he turns his body towards the computer again. He’s weirdly stiff as he navigates to the address bar. Is he blushing? Till is almost positive he’s blushing. 

“I just didn’t anticipate your preferences, I suppose.” His voice comes out a little strained, and Ivan clears his throat again. He straightens his shoulders even though they were already perfectly rigid, and he types in ‘gay pornography’ because he can’t be normal and just click on the rainbow at the top of the horrid website they were already on. “What categories do you watch? Do you watch circle jerk pornography? Maybe locker room videos. Anal gaping?”

Till is going to kill him before he dies, actually. He stays completely still, like that’ll suppress Ivan’s weird urge to say anything else, and breathes out through his nose. “How do you- Why do you know about that stuff?” He doesn’t reply, and Till isn’t going to press for an answer. He does not need to know the details of Ivan's porn watching history. 

This time, Ivan scrolls through the results that come up in his search. He selects a website near the bottom of the first page, and Till squints at it as the page loads. It doesn’t seem any different than the other websites. It’s got the same obnoxious pop up ads, just this time with men, and the same cheesy porn titles. Is this the site Ivan normally uses?

“What kind of men do you like to watch?” At least that’s a tamer question. Ivan doesn’t look at him as he scrolls through the home page. Till glances between his side profile and the screen, torn between the handsome bridge of his nose and the gaping asshole in the preview of the thumbnail he’s paused on. God, that’s- What a shock. Maybe he is a prude. 

“Uh,” Till starts, and Ivan navigates down the page. Till blinks, and he rubs his palms up and down over his shins as he squirms to displace his nervous energy. “I don’t like the guys that grunt a lot. You know, the big beefy gay for pay guys.” He’s not sure what compels him to be honest. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in Ivan’s reaction that reminds him of the bond they have. This is his best friend in the whole world. Ivan isn’t going to think he’s weird for talking about the boys he’s into. Friends talk about their sex lives all the time, don’t they? This isn’t any different, really. It’s just in video form. 

Ivan nods, slow and methodical like he’s trying to control the pace of it. He moves like a fucking robot sometimes, and it is so odd. His face turns towards Till, and their eyes meet. “Do you like twinks, Till?” 

The heat that renews in his cheeks is enough of an answer, apparently. Ivan’s lips quirk with a badly suppressed smirk, and he scrolls back up to the search bar at the top. He types in ‘twink’, and literally over a million results come up. It is the least helpful word he could have chosen to narrow down the videos. Every other guy on this website is a twink. 

The vastness doesn’t dissuade Ivan. He clicks on a generic looking video halfway down the page before Till gets a chance to read the title, and only when the page loads does he see it’s called ‘Hot emo twink gets pounded by hung jock’. That’s- Till loses his breath, smacking his hand into Ivan’s bicep. It’s thick and solid beneath his varsity jacket, and it makes a thunk when he hits him. 

“Don’t pick that!” Till scolds, and his hands fly up to cover his face when Ivan turns his head to look at him. The video starts playing, and the sound of wet kissing filters through the room. At least they’re not moaning. Yet.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Ivan is trying to sound innocent, but Till can hear the amusement in his voice so it’s not at all convincing. He inclines his head like a dumb dog, and Till cracks his fingers apart so he can glare at Ivan. “It’s important to find mirrors of yourself in the media you consume. People need to see themselves represented so they can connect with the content they’re viewing.” 

Till is unimpressed and not convinced. “This isn’t fucking psychology, Ivan. It’s porn,” he barks. A zipper’s teeth pry apart, metallic and sharp, and then there’s wet sucking as the emo twink in question puts his mouth around the other guy’s dick. It’s considerably less disgusting than the last video, but the guys are both pretty, so maybe that has something to do with it. 

Ivan’s eyes dart between Till’s half concealed expression and the screen. He is guarded and cautious, and his face gives nothing away. On screen, the top holds the twink’s hair out of his face, pushing his hips up with a groan. The poor guy gags, he’s got a giant dick stuffed down his throat so of course he does, but it doesn’t stop him. He bobs his head dutifully, and the camera shifts so he can make eye contact with them through the screen. Ivan meets his gaze, holding the faked eye constant, and it’s only when the angle changes that he looks back to Till. Huh. 

“You wouldn’t watch this on your own?” he inquires, brow tilted in question. Till gnaws at his lip, twirling a ring around his middle finger. It only helps a little, but he’ll take any distraction he can get from his nerves. Why is he so nervous? Why can’t he make it go away?

Till doesn’t answer right away. The video transitions to a new scene, and he watches as the twink holds his legs up against his chest. His hole is slick with lube, he obviously prepped off screen, and the camera zooms in to show the way it clings to the top’s fingers as he presses two inside. Loud moaning rips Till through his gut, and he can’t stop squirming. It sounds real , and the guy is rutting his hips down into the fingers and riding them as well as he can in his position. The top leans in to press a kiss against his hole, licking between his spread fingers, and the twink cries out desperately and his hips jerk into the sensation. 

“I would,” Till confesses, hushed, beneath the cover of the guy’s moaning. He’s got three fingers inside of him now, fucking into him with purpose. He’s grinding down against them so hard, and when the top spreads them apart, he keens like he can’t help himself. 

Ivan doesn’t say anything else. Silence envelops the space between them, and the only sounds come from Till’s squirming and the obscenity pouring from the speakers. Ivan sits completely straight in his desk chair, face turned firmly ahead with his eyes fixed on the screen. There’s the slightest kiss of color on the tips of his ears. He’s enjoying this too, even if he’s trying not to show it. So he does watch porn. 

The video rolls on, and the twink bends over and moans openly as the guy behind him stuffs his arguably massive cock into his ass. It doesn't seem like an easy fit, but he doesn’t give the guy any time to adjust once he bottoms out. He grips him by the hips and fucks into him like an animal, and they move through several positions before the video switches to show the top blowing his load all over the other guy’s face. The bottom is still hard, whether from some kind of medication or because he actually didn’t get to get off, and he opens his mouth and jerks the guy off until he cums in his mouth and across his cheeks. It’s…okay, but Till can’t help but worry about him getting blue balls. It seems like a lot of fucking to not even get off in the end. Not worth it.

The outro sound plays, and then the video goes black. A series of related videos appear on the screen, and a repeat button. Ivan clicks none of them. Both his hands are folded demurely in his lap like a proper fucking schoolboy. 

“Did you enjoy that one?” he asks like they’re chatting about their homework. Speaking of, Till has a history essay due tomorrow he hasn’t started. Whatever. He can half ass it and get a D. 

“Um,” he responds, but his voice comes out a little squeaky from not using it for a while. That’s the only reason. The fire in his cheeks blazes hotter, and Till cannot look away from the computer in fear of being discovered. “Yeah, I guess.”

Ivan seems unsatisfied by the response. He makes a noise in the base of his throat that’s almost akin to a grunt, and it pulls Till’s attention to him. He’s rolling his chair closer to the desk, suddenly very focused, and his fingers fly over the keys as he types something new into the address bar. 

The website he pulls up is…weird. It’s protected by a password which Ivan doesn’t hesitate to input, and then it loads the home page. There are no ads, and there’s a little person icon in the top right that Ivan clicks on. It prompts him for his email and password, and Till watches like there’s a fucking car accident playing out before him as Ivan logs into his account. So he does pay for fetish porn. He watches porn, it just has to be weird. 

He does pay, except it’s not freaky like Till was anticipating. The videos have the same stupid porn titles that every other site features, except with the guys’ names in them. The home page features several videos from the same guys, and they’ve all got dark hair and bangs and piercings. The guys they’re with aren’t super masculine, they’re kinda alternative looking too, but they’re chiseled and big, and they dwarf their partners. 

Till swallows. There’s a sudden influx of saliva on his tongue, and he’s beginning to sweat under his arms. Is it hot in here? The heat must have kicked on. Why the hell does Ivan have the heat on?

“Do you see anything you want to watch?” Ivan’s voice is even, and he turns to examine Till with the same level of intrigue as a scientist inspecting a newly discovered specimen. His eyes are sharp and discerning, and Till cannot help but fidget under their piercing focus. He is incredibly serious, and he’s not smiling anymore, not even a little. 

Till looks away. He can’t hold the intense eye contact, not when his gut is starting to feel weird and syrupy. 

He scans the thumbnails, chewing his lip. He can feel Ivan’s stare fixed on him, but it’s not unusual for him, just weird in this context. The videos are all mostly the same, just variations of twinks getting twisted up into different positions. They’re mostly all attractive, but the one that catches his eye is near the bottom of the screen. The guy in it has bright white hair with bangs that lay across his forehead, and his top is broad and athletic with dark hair and a strong jaw. Their names, apparently, are Fang and Chase. Fucking stupid, but it’s not like he’d pick anything better if he was doing porn. 

“That one,” he replies, arm extending until his fingertip hovers over it. Ivan’s eyes leave his face, and they slide over to his computer to look upon the depraved media Till has selected. He can’t bear to look at Ivan’s expression, he doesn’t want to see the interest light up his eyes, and he really can’t handle it if Ivan is criticizing his choice. Just because he pays for this shit doesn’t mean he likes everything on the site. Till does have to wonder, though, why he didn’t go to his bookmarks. 

Ivan clicks on it. The video loads quickly, like there’s not much traffic on the website bogging it down, and it plays automatically. Ivan pulls it up into full screen, and Till swallows thickly. 

The guy with white hair, Fang, he assumes, is on his tiptoes to kiss the other guy. Chase. Whatever. They’re attractive together, and they have good chemistry like they’ve worked together before. Chase grips his waist and holds him against his body, and they fall into bed. There’s a lot of making out, a lot of grinding, and a lot of heavy petting. It’s way more foreplay than Till ever sees in porn, but it’s good, and the sounds they make are good too. 

They work together to get their clothes off. Fang arches into Chase’s hands as they skate up his ribcage, shucking his shirt off over his head. He’s got pierced nipples, and Chase bends to lick them each in turn, nibbling at them and making Fang gasp and writhe. He bites over Fang’s chest and palms at his dick through his pants, and Fang whines and ruts into the touch. Is he shaking? Till is almost positive he’s shaking. 

The video plays on for almost ten minutes. Neither he or Ivan speak, but Till can feel the burn of his stare on the side of his face. It’s not constant, Ivan is watching the video too, but it’s often enough to make every muscle in his body freeze like a deer caught in the headlights. If he squirms too much, he’ll be caught liking this, and that would make this whole situation super weird. 

On the bed, Chase situates himself between Fang’s legs. He mouths over his leaking dick as he fingers him open, and his hips grind into the mattress seeking friction. Till holds his breath when they move, and he pushes inside. Fang scrabbles for a hold on Chase’s shoulders, legs folded into his chest, and sobs as he fucks his hips up into the pressure. It’s good, clearly, and Till believes it when he makes noise. 

His face is on fire. Till can’t make it dissipate, even when he presses the whole lower half of it into his knees, and the heat seeps through the denim of his jeans into his legs. His whole body feels too hot, and he feels sticky and gross along his spine and under his arms. He’s sweating, partly from nerves and partly because he’s getting fucking turned on, okay? It’s good porn. Who can blame him for getting a little turned on? 

The progress bar marches on. They flow into various positions while Fang moans and begs and then cries, and then he cums into Chase’s fist as he pounds into his prostate. It’s hard and unforgiving, and his hips only still when he finishes inside. He pulls them back slowly, and the camera zooms into a close up shot of the cum leaking out of him. They’re both panting, and it sounds so loud without any other noise in Ivan’s bedroom. 

Then, silence. The video ends, and Till inhales shakily. Ivan is stiff beside him, unmoving, and Till examines him from his peripheral vision before he finds the courage to speak. 

“That one was…good.” Ivan’s throat bobs as he swallows. Till can hear it, and he blinks, anxiety turning in the pit of his stomach. He seems off, but not in an Ivan way. Is he upset? 

He shifts, and Till’s eyes drop to his lap as he readjusts the splay of his thighs in the chair. His gaze is drawn naturally to the movement, he really can’t help it, but god does he wish he wouldn’t have looked. 

Ivan is hard. There is a thick bulge tenting the front of his pants, straining behind his zipper. Till’s mouth is watering, and he becomes very aware of the wet spot in his underwear. He bears down around nothing, and his dick pulses. 

Oh god. Ivan is- Till is, too. Is this normal?

Ivan’s eyes snap over to him. His expression is grave, and his nostrils flare as he breathes in through his mouth and out his nose. He pins Till with his gaze like a dried out butterfly on an entomologist’s display board, and he cannot bring himself to look away. 

“Which parts did you enjoy the most, Till?” Ivan’s voice comes out strangled, like it’s stuck in his throat. Till doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound like that before, and it makes his stomach flutter nervously. “Did you pretend you were in his place? Do you want to be touched like that, Till? Would you like to be filled with ejaculate?” 

Till’s mind screeches with how fast it’s reeling. He’s hitting the brakes, but they won’t stop the hurtling, racing thoughts. He should’ve gone to a mechanic months ago. The brake pads are shot, and it’s no use to try to fight it. He’s going to crash the car and ruin everything. His perverse thoughts are going to kill them both. 

“I- Yeah,” he manages, and Ivan holds his eyes with intent . He can’t even scold Ivan for his weird line of questioning. If he speaks too much, he might say something he regrets. “I do want that. It’d be…good.”

Ivan’s entire torso expands with his next breath. He seems like he’s fighting to maintain his self control, and he blinks twice before he turns his face away. Shoulders stiff, his fingertips find the keyboard, and he types quickly into the search bar. 

“I have another video you may enjoy. One moment.”

Till doesn’t speak. He can’t. His voice is too small, stuck in the pit of his stomach where he can’t manage to bring it out. Sticky arousal traps it inside, refusing to let it go. 

Ivan loads the video. It’s got a little bookmark icon in the corner, and it’s filled in red. Ivan has this one saved. It’s titled ‘Virgin emo twink Tal gets pounded in the locker room by hung football jock Evan’. He presses play, and two guys come into frame. Evan leans his shoulder into a row of lockers, towel slung over his naked shoulder, and the other guy, Tal, stands before him with his hands clasped together anxiously in front of him. The nervous one has grey hair with bangs that overlap on the bridge of his nose, and he’s dressed in dark clothes with a fistful of rings. The other guy is broad and muscled, black hair pushed back from his face and dripping water droplets over his bare skin. 

Till swallows, his eyes flitting over to Ivan beside him. He’s not watching the video. His eyes trap Till in his desk chair, gaze intense and all consuming. Their eyes meet, just for a moment, and then Till breaks the contact. 

On screen, the two guys are kissing. Evan has his partner pinned against the row of lockers, and Tal whimpers as he shoves his thickly muscled thigh between his legs. His nails, painted black with chipped polish, scratch over Evan’s back as he rides his thigh. Till slides both his hands between his legs, trapping them with his knees. His nails look the same, they usually do, and he’s got rings stacked on both hands just like this porn star does. 

He keeps his eyes firmly on the screen. The jock hoists Tal up and his legs wrap around his waist, and they go to town against the wall of lockers. His muscles are fucking huge, his biceps are thick and his back is so strong looking. There’s saliva flooding over his tongue. Till swallows it down, and his heartbeat ratchets faster. 

The similarities are- Well, they’re hard to ignore. Tal’s bangs stick to his forehead when he’s laid out on the bench between the two sets of lockers, and dark hair obscures the space between his legs until the camera angle changes. It pans down the tense length of Evan’s bicep to reveal the place his fingers have disappeared into his partner. 

He’s trans, and he’s so wet he’s leaving a puddle on the worn wood of the bench. 

Ivan’s eyes are boring holes into the side of his head. Till blinks, and his chair creaks as he shifts his weight in it. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it jumping in his throat, and anxiety is squeezing hard enough around his gut that he thinks he might be sick. What the fuck is this? Why does Ivan have this saved?

Tal is crying, and when the video transitions to him on all fours as Evan shoves his massive fucking dick into him, he’s hiccuping these little whimpers that sound pathetic but so pretty. He’s clawing at the bench and arching his back, and when his partner finally bottoms out inside of him, he begs for him to move. Evan does, and their skin slaps together and echoes in the locker room. It’s so loud in Ivan’s bedroom. 

“Evan!” he sobs, which Till didn’t think was allowed in porn. Clearly this weird website is an exception. When he cries it again, it comes out warbled, and it sounds like ‘Ivan’ instead. 

Till’s focus breaks away from the video. Loud moaning and the sharp slapping of skin on skin fills the silence between them. Ivan’s still looking at him, unwavering in his stare, and he holds Till’s gaze confidently as their eyes meet. There is the faintest hint of color across his cheeks, and it deepens the longer Till looks at him. Till’s never seen him blush so much before, not since they were kids and Ivan laughed so hard he cried and his whole face turned bright red. He seemed to grow out of blushing and into his weird personality. He’s never embarrassed. 

“Ivan,” Till murmurs at the same time as Tal calls out ‘Evan’ in the video. They sound too similar to be a coincidence, and when Evan groans his name in return as he slams into him, he drags it out in a way that obscures the pronunciation. It sounds like ‘Till’. It sounds like his name. 

Till’s eyes flick downwards. The thick bulge in the front of his pants hasn’t eased at all, and Till’s almost positive it’s actually grown. Ivan’s thighs tense, Till can see the muscles shift through the denim, and he does not close his legs to hide it when Till holds eye contact with his erection. 

On screen, there’s more obscene moaning. It’s gotten louder now, but it’s easy to drown out when his heartbeat is so loud in his ears. Till can’t hear anything else, just the roar of blood in his ears and a frantic thumping. 

Ivan does not speak. His expression is completely serious and set in stone. With sure hands, he turns Till’s desk chair to face him by the armrests, and then he leans across the space between them and takes his face between both of his palms. They’re warm and broad, and they span across the entire width of his jaw. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” he murmurs, his voice a low croon under the skin slapping and the wet sounds of the video. He doesn’t give Till more than a moment to resist, and then his lips cover Till’s. They’re full and plush and so soft. Ivan tastes like mint, like he’d brushed his teeth before this. Like he’d anticipated it. 

Till has kissed a grand total of two other people before. The first was a girl whose name he’d never learned. He’d met her at a skate park and shared a cigarette with her that made him feel cool even though he coughed up his lungs. She was a few years older than Till, and she laughed and patted his head when he missed. The other was Acorn, quick and experimental behind the bleachers at school. They both liked boys, and it had been a recent discovery. It felt natural to try it out, even though neither of them were attracted to one another. They’d shared a brief press of their lips, and then they’d never spoken about it again. 

This is not like those kisses. Ivan kisses him like he’s trying to consume him. It’s slow and deep, and Till slackens his jaw to let his tongue in when he nips at his lip with the sharp point of his snaggletooth. It stings, and Till ekes out a whimper into Ivan’s mouth. His tongue snakes behind his teeth, and Till can’t do anything but accept it. Well, he could pull away, but he’s not going to. He doesn’t want to. He wants Ivan to kiss him. 

Till is panting when he finally does pull back. He’s got a deep flush stretched over his cheekbones, and he blinks up at Ivan with eyes that are bleary from holding them shut so long. Ivan is blushing too, just a little kiss of color across his face, and the look in his eyes is so soft. 

“Till,” he breathes, his hands drifting to card through the sides of his hair. His touch is so gentle, and when Ivan’s touch wanders onto the back of his head, he sinks his fingers into Till’s hair and scratches at his scalp softly. It’s soothing, in a weird way. Till’s heart is still jumping in his esophagus, but the contact helps ground him just a little bit. 

“I would like to touch you,” Ivan murmurs, learning their foreheads together. His skin is hot against his temple, and Till knows his is, too. Feverish from desire. “Please let me, Till.”

There’s no coming back from this. This is his best friend, his only friend, really. He and Ivan have been inseparable since before they could talk. His presence is embedded into Till’s very soul. He can’t imagine a world without Ivan in it, even through the rocky parts of their friendship. 

Till always comes back to him. Ivan never leaves him, but Till always returns. Maybe fate’s tied them together, like they were joined in another life too. 

“Okay,” Till agrees. He isn’t scared. There is no one in the world he’d rather do this with than Ivan. He’s not blind. Till knows he’s attractive, and there’s been…something brewing between them over the last few years. Puberty had gifted Ivan handsome features and a strong jawline and filled out muscles, and Till would be stupid not to have noticed. Granted, paying attention is one thing, and acting on those feelings is a whole other. 

They can talk about the rest of it later. They’ve never been good at talking, anyway. It’s better not to mince words and try to hash things out now when half of Ivan’s blood supply is stuck in his dick instead of in his brain anyway. 

It’s Till who kisses him this time. It’s awkward and a little messy, and their teeth clack against each other when Till tips his head the same way as Ivan. He lets him lead, though, following in step and allowing him to flounder. He fumbles it, for sure, but Ivan doesn’t seem to mind, and arousal is blazing too hot in his core for Till to care either. Practice makes perfect, or whatever. Not like Ivan’s a kissing expert, either. 

Ivan’s hands drift slowly from where they’re tangled in the back of his hair. They pass over the nape of his neck and then across his hunched shoulders, thumbs digging into what feeble muscle Till possesses. His hands linger there, and then they come to rest on his kneecaps, legs still folded up into his chair and separating them. Till pulls away from their kiss to inhale, and then he drops his legs, planting his feet on the floor. 

Ivan’s touch immediately wanders. He grips the meat of Till’s thighs with a clenched hold, and he kneads at them as he groans into Till’s mouth. It sends starling shocks of pleasure straight into the core of him, he’s never been touched with so much purpose, and it is heady. Till feels like he can’t get enough oxygen, even when he pulls away from Ivan’s mouth to pant. There’s a thick fog of arousal in his head, and his body feels so heated, like he came out of a sauna. 

Then, Ivan shoves his hand right between Till’s legs, and he encompasses Till’s whole cunt in his grasp. His thumb digs into the soft flesh above his pubic bone, and the rest of his fingertips curl to press against his hole through his jeans. His palm rests right above his hard clit, and when Till’s hips jump as he gasps for breath, it grinds against him. He’s even hotter between his legs, hotter than Ivan’s hand curled around his pussy or his burning cheeks, and he wonders if Ivan can feel how wet he is through two layers of clothes. 

“You’ve never been touched by anyone.” It’s not a question, but Till shakes his head anyway. Ivan’s never had sex either, at least they’re on equal footing there, except he doesn’t touch Till like an inexperienced virgin. It’s not fair. Till wants to make him lose his breath with a purposefully placed hand too, but the only knowledge he has comes from porn and from the boasting conversations he’s overheard. 

“Oh, Till,” Ivan murmurs, hungry. He leans in to put his teeth on the shell of his ear, and the prick of his snaggletooth makes his whole body jolt. His breath huffs right into Till’s eardrum, chasing chills down the nape of his neck, and then Ivan groans. It’s low and ruddy breathed right into his ear, and Till can’t swallow down the pathetic little sound that escapes him. He’s never wanted anything more, anyone more. “I’m going to ruin you.”

Till keens. Ivan bows his head, and his teeth sink into the side of his throat like a vampire draining his life force. Till’s hands fly out to cling onto his biceps, and Ivan’s hand massages his cunt like he’s tenderizing meat before a meal. God, Till is going to fucking die. Ivan is insatiable when he gets fixated on something, and Till’s not prepared for his voracious need to destroy his pussy. 

There’s no way he’s going to be able to cover up the marks Ivan leaves with his mouth. He bites along the length of Till’s throat and sucks until it feels like it’s going to split open, pulling his skin in so hard it catches between his molars. When he’s finished with one side, he bends to chew on the other, and Till’s an idiot and lets him do it. It feels good, though, despite how badly it stings. His legs are shaking, and he can’t stop jerking every time Ivan’ fingers press into his clit through his clothes. 

“Ivan,” Till huffs, and he pats at his arms with trembling fingers as he tries to reel in his spiraling thoughts. It’s so hard to think, and it doesn’t get any easier when Ivan yanks aside the neck of his shirt to bite into the jut of his collarbone. “Ivan, we should- Bed.” 

Ivan springs into action like a man possessed. He leaps from his chair, standing so fast his knees knock it backwards from his desk and send it skittering into the wall. Before Till can process what’s happening, he’s being hoisted from his own seat, Ivan’s arms curled beneath his thighs and holding him tight against his body. It takes only a few steps for him to cross the distance between his desk and his bed. When they reach it, he tosses Till onto the mattress like a fucking ragdoll, and it forces the breath from his lungs in a rush. 

Ivan’s closing in again. Till doesn’t stand a chance; he can’t even make it to the pillows before Ivan’s upon him. Lying crooked in the center of his mattress, Ivan shoves his way between Till’s legs, and he cries out as he scrabbles for a grip on him as their hips slot together. 

It’s too much at once. Till can’t keep up, can’t follow, and Ivan doesn't stop to give him time to think. The video continues to play on his computer, providing an obscene soundtrack to their kissing as Ivan fits their mouths together. It’s messier than before, he kisses Till like he wants to swallow him whole, and he bites and sucks until Till’s forced to pull away for gasping breaths. 

“You’re so-“ Ivan groans, ducking his head to bury his face into Till’s throat. He inhales deeply, and his hips jump, pressing his dick urgently against Till’s pelvis. He’s completely surrounded by Ivan, his arms caged around his head and his body pinning him to the bed. His smell, the sound of his voice, the weight of his frame. It’s overwhelming. Till feels like his head’s spinning, but maybe that’s from the severe lack of blood flow in his brain? 

“You make me want to eat you,” Ivan growls, and then he wrenches the collar of his shirt to the side so he can bite into his shoulder again. It’s already so stretched out, it doesn’t matter, and he can’t think beyond the searing pain of Ivan’s teeth in his flesh anyway. It hurts, but it also makes his clit throb. It’s a double edged sword. That’s the saying, isn’t it? 

Ivan shifts his weight, and then his fingers shove beneath the hem of his shirt. It startles a gasp from Till; he can count on one hand the number of people who have touched him under his clothes (it’s one - his doctor, at his last physical). He feels so sensitive, like all his nerves are raw, and Ivan’s touch trails a blaze wildfire over his skin. His hand drags up over his stomach, his side, along his ribs, and then his fingertips dip beneath the hem of his binder. It sends a startling lance into Till’s gut, and he cannot help the instinctive flinch and the feeling of wrong , even though this guy’s known him literally his whole life. 

“I want to take your clothes off of you,” Ivan says, voice low. It’s not a request, more like a warning, but Till nods anyway. 

“You too,” he murmurs, meek. His stomach is in turmoil from his nerves, but he can’t seem to make them go away. It doesn’t matter that this is just Ivan, Ivan who knows literally everything about him. Actually, maybe it’s because it’s Ivan that he’s so nervous. He’s not scared, but it’s normal to be anxious about losing your virginity, right? 

Ivan sits back on his knees. With both hands, he grasps the hem of Till’s shirt and rolls it up over his torso, baring him to the cold overhead lighting in his bedroom and Ivan’s piercing gaze. It’s awkward to have to contort and twist around until they get it over his head while he’s still laying down, but they manage eventually, and Till does everything in his power to fight the urge to cover himself up with his scrawny arms. Ivan’s staring doesn’t help, even though he looks like he’s about to pop a vein in his forehead. That’s a good reaction, isn’t it?

He doesn’t give Till much time to worry. Ivan folds himself up between his knees and bends to lay a lingering trail of kisses across his stomach. His teeth scrape along the lines of his ribs, and Till’s stomach caves in with his sharp breathing. Chills race across his flesh. He feels like he’s shivering, suddenly, but he’s just shaking from the stimulation and the attention. It’s a lot to handle all at once. 

“Can I take this off of you?” Ivan murmurs into the soft skin right above his hip. His lips brush against Till’s flesh as he speaks, and the words vibrate through his skeleton and send shocks clean through to his dripping cunt. His fingers splay, and they dip just beneath the bottom edge of his binder. Till’s heart is beating so hard. 

“I-“ Till starts, and then realizes he doesn’t have an answer. His mouth’s moving faster than his brain right now. He can’t contain it. “If you turn off the lights,” he manages. Ivan’s gone before he can say anything more. 

He flips the switch, and the room dims. There’s still light filtering in from outside, it’s only early evening, but it’s enough that Till doesn’t feel like there’s a spotlight on him anymore highlighting all the parts of his body that are wrong. He always thought he’d have sex with somebody else trans, at least the first time, so he couldn’t compare the parts he was missing. He’d never expected it to be Ivan, muscular, broad, masculine Ivan. 

Then again, maybe it’s right that it’s Ivan. Ivan, who was at his side for his first day of school, who defended his block tower from the boys in their class who wanted to knock it down. Ivan, who always sat beside him at lunch, even when he had more friends than Till and they didn’t want anything to do with him. Ivan, the first person he told when he started to realize he felt like a boy, and Ivan who he cried to when Till hit puberty and he got his first period. It’s always been Ivan, loyal, steadfast, constant. 

Maybe their whole lives had led them to this point. Maybe it had been written in the stars, or maybe Ivan is just…right. 

The mattress shifts, and Ivan crawls back into bed on his knees. Till swallows down the trepidation in his throat, takes a deep, steadying breath, and strips his binder over his head. It is more vulnerable than he’s ever felt in his life, but it’s just the two of them here, and Ivan has never judged him. He’s punched him and fought with him and made him cry, but he’s never judged Till for who he is, just accepted him. Loved him. 

“You’re so perfect,” Ivan breathes. Till can’t meet his eyes, it’s too much, and he takes another breath in through his mouth. His heart is hammering in his ribcage, and he can’t get it to slow down. 

“Till,” Ivan murmurs, and he moves to kneel between his legs. With soft hands, he captures Till’s face in his palms, tipping his head up in an attempt to catch his gaze. Reluctantly, Till meets it, but he can’t hold it for long before his eyes flicker away from Ivan’s. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

He knows. Ivan may be a horrible teasing menace, but he knows. There’s no one Till trusts more in the world. 

“Kiss me?” he whispers, and Ivan does without hesitation. He lays himself along the length of Till’s body, chests and stomachs and hips aligned. Ivan’s weight is grounding, and when Till lets his hands wander along the sides of his rib cage and across his back, he finds he’s not quite so nervous anymore. 

Ivan touches his bared skin carefully, like he’s afraid Till will bolt if he presses too hard. His fingers skate up his sides and squeeze at his waist, and they dance up the backs of his arms where they’re looped behind Ivan’s head. It’s ticklish, and Till hisses and twists away from the sensation. Ivan’s hands retreat, and he takes the opportunity to push himself upright and strip off his shirt. 

There’s a mouthful of saliva on his tongue. Till swallows, drinking in the ripple of Ivan’s muscled torso as he grasps the shirt from the back and pulls it over his head. It tousles his hair in a way that’s unfairly attractive, and Till swears he’s having fucking heart palpitations when Ivan pushes it off his forehead. Football practice has really paid off.  

His hands drop to his belt, then, and Till’s throat makes a sound that’s embarrassingly loud as he swallows. He’s nervous, but he’s so turned on, and he doesn’t think a vibrator and his right hand would cut it if they stopped now. Only the real thing will suffice, and it’s trapped behind thick, expensive denim. He wants in. 

Ivan’s fingers open his belt deftly, sliding the leather though the buckle and the first loop on his pants. It clinks to announce its freedom, and then he pops open his button and pries apart his zipper. The teeth hiss on their descent. Till can’t tear his eyes away. 

He’s wearing black boxer briefs underneath, and they leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. Ivan stares ahead, right at Till, as he watches, and he guides his jeans down his thickly muscled thighs. He shifts from one knee to the other so he can get them off, and it should be awkward, but neither of them laugh. He hooks his fingers in his socks and pulls those off too, and then he drops everything over the edge of his bed where it lands in a heap.

Till takes a deep breath, but it does nothing to steady the nervous racing of his heart. Ivan is big, and it intimidates Till as much as it excites him. Is he even fully hard yet? It doesn’t seem like it. Of course Ivan has to be muscular and hot and rich and have a big dick. 

Hesitantly, Till extends his fingers. It’s difficult to reach Ivan lying on his back, but his body is deaf to his commands. He can’t make himself sit up. It’s a marvel he is able to lift his arm at all. Ivan sucks in a breath as Till’s fingertips touch his hip, and then it becomes fast and labored as he tucks his fingers beneath the elastic of his underwear. 

“These too,” Till murmurs. Ivan’s eyes are alight with desire. He waits only a moment, like he expects Till to take it back, and then he shoves those down his legs too. 

His cock droops from the waistband as he takes them off. It’s heavy, and it can’t hold itself up. It’s thick but not impossible looking, and there’s a vein along the underside that Till wants to put his tongue on. He’s not circumcised, and the foreskin’s rolled back around the glans from how hard he is. He must shave or something, there’s no hair at all down here, and he doesn’t even have ugly wrinkly balls. It is an unfairly pretty dick, but of course it is. Ivan’s been genetically engineered to be the perfect man, except they screwed up and dropped a vial that exploded in his face and made him a freakish pervert. 

Till doesn’t ask for permission before he touches Ivan. He runs one finger down the length of his erection, and it jumps beneath his touch, pulse throbbing in that prominent vein. Ivan inhales sharply, and Till’s eyes flick between the intense focus in his face and the head of his cock. They’re both nice to look at. It’s hard to pick one. 

It’s dry when Till wraps his fist around it. Maybe he should’ve spit in his palm or something, but Ivan’s hips push into his hand as he strokes it up and down, so maybe it doesn’t matter. Till props himself up on his elbow to get closer, and he twists his wrist when he gets to the base like he’s seen in porn. It makes Ivan gasp, and his hips twitch, so the films must get something right. 

When Till thumbs over the head, he’s leaking precum. It’s slippery and a little bit sticky, and it shines in the light when Till spreads it around with his fist. Ivan wavers on his knees, his breathing difficult and carefully measured, and their eyes lock. 

“Do you-“ Till starts, but he’s cut off by the soft sound of Ivan’s moan as he pumps his hand up and down. He sounds so pretty, all soft and breathy, like he’s not putting on a show or trying to be someone he’s not. “Do you have lube or something?” 

Ivan takes a deep, shuddering inhale. His shoulders shake, and he closes his eyes for a few moments like he’s steadying his nerves. “I do,” he replies, bobbing his head in a single firm nod. “But I’d prefer if you used your mouth.”

Till blinks, once, and then again because the first time doesn't help the words make sense. His brain is screeching, it’s going too fast, and his mind is flooded with a sea of images of Ivan’s fists in his hair fucking his face onto his cock like the girls in porn. It’s- Well, it’s not entirely unpleasant, but it’s definitely more than he can handle considering how bad his gag reflex is. It’s definitely a turn off to throw up during a blowjob. 

“Uh,” Till starts, contemplating. He’s not opposed, but he didn’t exactly expect to be sucking his best friend’s dick today. Then again, he didn’t anticipate doing any of this. “Okay.”

An evil looking smirk pulls at the edges of Ivan’s lips. His eyes shimmer, and he gets up onto his knees fully. “You can stay there,” he instructs, and then he’s clambering up the length of Till’s body and straddling his chest. It’s overwhelming, and even though Ivan’s holding himself up on his knees to keep his weight off Till, he still feels like he can’t breathe. It rushes straight to his head, and Till feels like he’s wading through a pool of arousal and nervousness to be able to think at all. 

“Put your hands on my legs,” Ivan murmurs, guiding Till’s hands onto the backs of his thighs with his fingers looped around his thin wrists. Till keeps them there when Ivan’s hold vanishes, and if he squeezes to feel the tension in his muscles, then nobody needs to know. Ivan has sexy legs. Sue him. 

“If you need me to stop, you can hit my legs. Okay?” Oh god. What is Ivan going to do to him? Lead drops into the pit of his stomach, and Till can’t find it in him to do anything but nod. “I’ll support your head, so don’t worry about that. All you need to focus on is breathing.”

Ivan doesn’t give him any more space to mentally prepare, nor time to change his mind. He curls both his hands around the back of Till’s skull and lifts his head off the bed, angling it forward. It puts him right at sight level with his dick, and it looks hard enough to poke his eye out. Fuck, it’s gonna perforate his throat and he’s going to die from sucking dick. He’s going to die a virgin. He’s going to die in his socks . 

The head of Ivan’s cock bumps against his lower lip, forcibly shutting down Till’s crisis. The salty flavor of his precum bursts across his tongue when he darts it out to lap at the slit, and Ivan groans from deep in his chest. Till’s eyes flick up to him, and Ivan’s crimson stare pierces him through to the core. He’s watching with laser focus, gaze trained on Till’s mouth. 

Cautiously, Till parts his lips. He knows enough to cover his teeth, but it’s harder than he anticipated it being, and he feels stupid lying there with his mouth open. Ivan’s fingers pet along the curve of his occipital bone, and the muscles in the backs of his legs shift as he angles his pelvis closer. Very gently, he feeds the head of his cock into Till’s mouth, and then his whole body shudders. His eyes squeeze shut and his fingers clench in the back of Till’s hair, panting. 

Ivan’s wound tight like a spring. He’s fighting incredibly hard to control himself, which Till appreciates. He’s never done anything like this before, never one to put his fingers in his mouth or anything while he jerks off. He gets it now, though, honestly. His mouth is watering so much, not from the taste, but from the reaction, from the power he’s holding over Ivan’s pleasure. Ivan might be holding the reins, but Till is in charge. Ivan’s one clenched jaw away from a trip to the emergency room. He’s gotta play nice. 

Till inhales through his nose, and Ivan nudges his hips forward. It’s harder to breathe than Till expected, and the angle makes it difficult to fill his lungs, even with Ivan supporting the weight of his head. His neck’s bent in on itself and constricting his windpipe, and Till has to bully down the instinctive rush of fear at his inability to take a full breath. 

Even so, he manages to take more into his mouth. Ivan murmurs praise that doesn’t quite reach his ears and pets over the back of Till’s head, and he presses in and in until he’s fed him probably three quarters of his length. It’s a lot, and when the tip of his cock nudges against the back of his throat, Till can’t help his gag. Ivan doesn't pull back, though, holding strong, and Till’s forced to relax his throat or suffocate. 

His eyes are stinging. Till blinks the tears out of them, and Ivan heaves. His whole body is trembling, and he’s struggling to hold himself together. It’s only when Till whimpers out a choked, soft sound that his hips flow into motion, drawing back and rocking forward again cautiously. 

Mercifully, Ivan doesn’t try to give it all to him. Every time his dick hits the back of his throat, he sputters, so he must realize Till can’t take it. Instead, his perversion rears its head through another means, and he guides Till’s head forward and back to fuck his mouth onto his cock. It’s obscene and disgusting, and tears spill over Till’s lash line onto his cheeks as he lets Ivan use him. It’s not worth fighting, especially not with the thrill singing in his chest at the absolute rapture in Ivan’s face. 

It can’t be more than a minute or two before Ivan’s hips stutter. Till’s not sure; it’s hard to keep track of time with all his mental power focused on not choking. Ivan’s blunt nails cut into his scalp, he moans Till’s name like he’s been punched in the gut, and he shoves his mouth down onto his cock as far as it’ll go. The weeping head of his dick pushes so deep into the back of his throat that his gag reflex doesn’t do shit to eject it when he chokes, and all Till can do is scratch at the backs of his legs as Ivan cums down his throat. With his nose buried against Ivan’s abdomen, he has no room to resist. 

Tears spill down his cheeks, and Till blinks owlishly up at Ivan through the bangs stuck to his forehead from sweat. Ivan doesn’t look away from him for even a moment, holding his stare as he groans Till’s name and a litany of praise. 

“You’re so good,” he croons, his thumbs stroking over the nape of his neck. His fingers are locked together behind the curve of his skull, and his cock is pulsing on Till’s tongue. His balls rest against his chin, and his jaw aches from how hard he’s fighting the instinct to bite down and close his mouth. “You’re so perfect, Till. Such a good boy.” 

Finally, he pulls Till’s head off his cock. He gasps for breath like a drowned man, coughing and heaving and desperately trying to soothe his throbbing heart. His throat feels like it’s molded around the shape of Ivan’s cock, and he can still taste it on his tongue and along the roof of his mouth. He didn’t even get a chance to decide if he wanted to swallow, and he can feel the cum settle in his belly. He should be mad, but he’s more pissed off by how turned on he is than upset that Ivan used him like that. 

With a huff of breath, Ivan climbs off him. He flops down onto the bed beside him and lays a hand across his heart. His legs are shaking, and he leans against the headboard heavily. His skin is flushed pink across his face and down his chest, and there’s sweat glistening on his flesh. Till, unfortunately, wants to lick it off him, but that’s Ivan behavior so he won’t. 

“Alright,” Ivan states once his breathing has evened out. He slaps both his hands against his thighs, readying himself, and turns his head to face Till. He should be ashamed of himself, but he just looks pleased. He’s proud of the job Till’s done, and he should be. It was hard fucking work. “Your turn.”

He descends like a predator. Ivan kneels between his legs and wraps both hands around the waistband of Till’s pants. Without opening his belt, he wrenches them down, and he throws them over the side of the bed like they’ve offended him. 

Immediately, Ivan’s head is between his thighs. He buries his nose against Till’s cunt and inhales the wet spot in his underwear. It is horrible and depraved, and Till can’t help it when his hips jump. Being friends with Ivan for so many years has corrupted him. He’s turned into a filthy pervert, too. 

Ivan huffs a hot breath directly into his pussy. Till throws his arms across his face, muffling the whiny noise that bursts out of his abused throat, and battles the urge to close his thighs around Ivan’s head. Does he really think Ivan would mind? Well, no, but it seems rude to crush him. 

“You smell so good here,” Ivan murmurs, lips brushing against his hard clit through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. It’s just enough stimulation to make it throb, and it takes every bit of self control Till possesses to resist grinding against his face. “You smell like you want my cock.” 

The noise Till makes is akin to a sob, pathetic and high and forced from the back of his throat. He presses his arms harder against his face, but Ivan’s got hearing like a fucking hunting dog, trained to listen for every noise he makes. He chuckles right against Till’s sopping cunt, and then the tips of his fingers come up to dig into his entrance through his underwear. It sends sparks of want into his core, and Till can’t fight the need to rock into the touch anymore. 

“What do you say, Till?” Ivan asks, and when he dares a peek from beneath his forearms, Ivan’s angling an evil looking smirk up Till’s body at him. His brows raise, daring him to deny his desires, but they both know how badly Till wants it. “Will you ask me to eat your pussy? Can you say please like a good boy?” 

If Till wasn't blushing before (he was), he definitely is now. His face is ablaze with the inferno of his embarrassment, and he whimpers and does his best not to jerk his hips too much. He wants that, he wants it very badly, but even thinking about saying those words makes him want to curl up in a ditch and die so he never has to see the light of day again. 

Unfortunately, Ivan is not kind or lenient. He waits, breathing into his cunt and huffing the scent like an aphrodisiac. Till has good manners, he knows how to say ‘please’ to get what he wants, but just can’t bring himself to ask for it. It’s too humiliating, and Ivan’s eyes locked onto him like the laser sight of a rifle don’t help in the slightest. 

Ultimately, it’s Till who breaks first. Ivan rubs his fingertips up and down over his hole, flattening the sticky fabric against his cunt, and he laps at his dick through his underwear. It does nothing but make him wetter, and he’s certain Ivan can tell. He does it harder, closing his lips around Till’s clit, and he sucks it into his mouth, underwear and all. 

Till chokes on the sudden force of his cry. His hips jerk like he was prodded with an electric wand, and Ivan’s teeth graze over the stiff length of his enlarged clit. It stings, just a little, but it sends a sharp bolt of pleasure through his cunt from the fear and from the shock of it. 

“Ivan,” he cries, and his hands fly between his legs to bury themselves into dark hair. He clings desperately, painted nails cutting into Ivan’s scalp, and his hips flow in an urgent rock against his mouth. He’s not even doing anything, Ivan’s gone completely still, but Till can’t keep himself from dry humping his face for even the slightest amount of stimulation. 

“Say ‘please’,” Ivan commands, right against his pelvis. The vibrations buzz through his core, and Till whines petulantly. He doesn’t budge, not even a little bit to be nice, and he waits patiently for Till to do as he’s told with his mouth pressed against him. His breath is so hot. Till feels like he’s burning up from inside out, sweaty and jittery and needy.  

“Please,” Till wails, both hands shaking where they’re sunk into Ivan’s hair. His legs are quaking so badly, and his back arches to press himself into the whisper soft sensation of Ivan’s waiting mouth. He still doesn’t move, frozen solid, and Till’s forced to set aside all his shame to get more words out of his mouth. “Ivan, please.”

Finally, he relents. He reaches up with both hands and yanks his underwear down his legs, and Till’s left in nothing but his socks like a fucking loser. Ivan’s mouth finds his cunt like a heat seeking missile, and he wraps his lips around his clit and sucks it behind his teeth as he sinks two fingers inside him. Till yowls, bearing down on them as they curl up into his walls, and he cannot help the way his hips jerk into motion and grind against Ivan’s chin. It’s so much sensation he’s blind with it, and his brain squeals to a halt with nothing but the wet heat of Ivan’s mouth imprinted into the wrinkles of it. 

If Till didn’t know without a shred of doubt that Ivan is as big a virgin as he is, he’d never believe it. His fingers skewer Till with exacting precision, quirking into the spongy spot against the front wall of his cunt that makes him quiver and gush fluid. His lips suction around the base of his clit, and his tongue prods into the underside and spears him with bolts of searing pleasure. All the while, Ivan’s free hand wanders, trailing over the sharpness of his hip bone and down his leg to squeeze encouragingly at the bend of his knee. 

Till’s hands tremble where they hold onto Ivan by the root of his hair. He’s never felt so good in his life, the wet heat of his mouth is nothing like his vibrator, and he sobs and writhes and throws his head back against the mattress as the feeling cascades over him. He’s likely yanking his hair right out of his scalp, but Ivan’s groaning against his cunt and tipping his head into Till’s hands every time he pulls, so it doesn’t seem like he minds. Till’s not sure he could stop, anyway. 

Ivan pulls his hand back, and before Till gets a chance to beg for more, he shoves another finger into him. His knuckles are wide and his digits are long, and they crook and spread apart inside of him so perfectly. Till clenches around them, and Ivan’s pointy tooth scrapes along the hood of his clit. It burns, but Till bears down as he jolts and wails, and Ivan moans against him like he’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

His lips pop as Ivan draws his head back. Till chokes on the force of the whimper he ekes out, muscles clinging to his fingers, and a dangerous smirk pulls up his lips at the edges. Helplessly, Till tugs at the ends of his hair, but Ivan doesn’t budge, huffing his breath against his cunt. 

“Do you want me to make you cum, Till?” he asks, voice low and rumbly. His breath puffs against the wet heat of his pussy, and Till clenches and writhes. Ivan’s fingers shift, just slightly, and the angle sends a javelin of pleasure up his spine. “Do you think you can more than once? I want you to cum on my cock, too.” 

The questions inundate his head, and Till’s brain feels like it’s spiraling, circling the drain and going down, down, down. He’s left with only thoughts of Ivan’s fingers and his lips and his tongue, and he’s reduced to nothing more than a hole and his throbbing clit. 

“I wanna cum,” Till gasps, hips jumping. Ivan hums, like he’s debating whether or not he should allow it, and Till whines as he bears down around his fingers. It’s a convincing argument, Ivan’s breath hastens as he does it, and his fingers crook to beckon inside of him against his walls. Till groans, riding his fingers to rut the tips of them against the front of his cunt when they still. 

“Ivan, please,” Till begs, clinging to the short hair at the back of his head. It strains his neck to lift his head off the mattress, but Till widens his eyes and pleads with them, staring down at Ivan until their gazes catch. He looks obscene between Till’s thighs, he can see how shiny his cheeks are, and the whole lower half of his face vanishes behind his pelvis as Ivan tilts his head to lap into the space between his spread fingers. “Ivan, please let me cum.” 

Ivan says nothing. He presses an open mouthed kiss against Till’s dick, it jumps under the firm pressure of his soft lips, and he crooks his fingers just enough that it could be an accident. Till huffs, and he throws his head back against the mattress. Ivan’s cruel, he’s the worst person in the world, and he’s going to torment Till and dangle his orgasm in front of him until he breaks down and sobs and screams for it. 

Surprisingly, Ivan does none of that. He licks a broad stripe along the whole of Till’s cunt, and then he spreads his fingers apart and laps inside of him. It’s weird, it’s wet and slithery in a way that feels wrong, but it also makes him lurch and whine, so it’s not that weird. His free hand wanders from where it’s been resting on his hip, and it snakes up his abdomen and over his ribcage until it comes to rest on his chest, his first two fingers lying on either side of his nipple like they’re waiting to pinch him. Till has to fight to control the urge to tell Ivan to back off and smack his hand away, he’s always hated this part of himself, but he doesn’t squeeze or treat Till like a girl, so he wills it away. 

“Alright, Till,” Ivan murmurs, speaking with his lips right up against the base of the fingers he’s got pressed inside him. Till heaves, and his hips shift into the whisper soft pressure of his mouth. It’s not enough, but he wants to cum so badly. “You’ve been a good boy. I’ll make you cum.”

Before Till gets a chance to kick him in the head for calling him a good boy, Ivan strips him of all his facilities. He wraps his lips around his clit and sucks, rhythmic and hard, and then he pulls his arm back and pistons his fingers into him. They’re angled to crook against his walls with every thrust, and his knuckles light fires inside him. His other hand twitches, like he wants to close it and squeeze but thinks better of it, and Ivan’s fingertips pinch around his nipple instead. Till’s never been overly sensitive on his chest, maybe years of binding has crushed all his nerve endings, but it’s good. It’s that little bit of extra he needs to plummet over the edge. 

A sob bursts from his throat, and Till’s hands sink fully into Ivan’s hair to hold his head in place. His hips lift to grind desperately against his hand and his tongue, and then pleasure explodes through his cunt from the base of his dick. His muscles milk Ivan’s fingers like a cock as he cums, wet and sloppy from all the saliva, and Till cries as the overwhelming waves of his orgasm crash over his frame and bury him in their wake. 

Ivan is, predictably, not nice as he comes down. Till whimpers and jerks to get away from the stimulation as it overwhelms him, but he keeps shoving his fingers into Till, spreading them to stretch out his entrance. The aftershocks make him whine, and finally, it’s too much for him to take. Till shoves both his hands into the top of Ivan’s head, pushing at him to get him out from between his legs. 

“Ivan,” he huffs, breathless and whiny. Ivan moans into his cunt, lips still locked around his clit, and his eyes flick up to Till’s face as he looks down at him with pleading eyes. “Ivan, please. It hurts.” 

Finally, he pulls back, his lips popping off his dick as he sits back on his haunches. The whole lower half of his face is shiny and wet, smeared with Till’s slick, and it’s spread as far as the tops of his cheekbones. Till can feel it dripping off of him and pooling in the sheets beneath him. He’s never been so wet before, but his arousal coupled with Ivan’s saliva is a messy combo. Thankfully, Ivan doesn’t seem to mind. He can’t stop looking, his gaze locked onto the way Till clenches around his fingers as the aftershocks rock through him. 

“You are,” he starts, exhaling unsteadily. He spreads his fingers apart, and Till can feel the cool air in his bedroom kiss between them. It feels sharp, he’s hot and throbbing inside, and it’s a stark contrast to the heat of Ivan’s tongue. “So tight,” he continues, and Till cannot help the way he gasps as his hips jerk. Ivan looks like he wants to devour him, skeleton and muscles and all. 

“I want to ruin you,” Ivan breathes, and with a shuddering groan, he draws his fingers out of Till’s body. A rush of slick gushes out of him, like Ivan’s hand was plugging it up inside, and he bites into his lip to muffle the way he whimpers at the sensation. “Till, can I please fuck you? Can you take it?” 

When Ivan asks him like it’s a challenge, Till can't say no. He should, for his own sanity, but he just can’t do it. He can’t back down from such obvious goading. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, bobbing his head in a single, sure nod. His pulse is throbbing so hard. He can feel it pulsing in his clit, along the swollen walls of his cunt, still so sensitive. Till swallows the nerves bubbling in his throat, and he scoots up until his head rests against Ivan’s plush pillows and kicks off his socks. He’s really about to lose his virginity, huh? This isn’t how he’d pictured it, after Ivan essentially confessed his feelings via porn. That was a confession, wasn’t it? He’d never imagined it would be Ivan at all. 

“I don’t want to use a condom,” Ivan informs. It leaves no room for argument, although Till frequently finds opportunity to do it in every situation. “You can't get pregnant, can you?” 

Ah, shit. Till hadn’t thought about that at all, even though he really should have. It’s been almost five years since he started taking testosterone, he jabs himself with a needle every Wednesday evening, and four since he’s had a period. He’s pretty certain his hormones have killed off whatever viable eggs are still living inside him, so it’s probably fine. 

“I don’t think so,” Till replies, eyes wandering as Ivan shifts on his knees. He’s thick and hard again, and his cock sits proudly between his thighs against his abdomen. Till’s never taken more than his own fingers inside himself, but God does he want to. Dick has gotta be way better, right? 

Ivan nods, apparently assured. His expression is gravely serious, and his eyes are alight with anticipation and excitement as he moves between Till’s legs on his knees. He slinks across the bed like a predator, fangs dripping with venom and poised to strike. Till’s going to be lucky if he makes it out of his bedroom alive. 

“You’ll be alright.” Ivan says it with absolute certainty. He looms over Till, and he’s acutely aware of how much bigger Ivan is than him. The width of his shoulders is massive, and he absolutely dwarfs Till lying above him. His biceps are probably twice as thick as Till’s, bigger than his thighs, even, and his whole body is solid and sculpted. He works out like crazy, and he eats a ton, so really it should be unsurprising. Till’s not often forced to confront it, though. He forgets. 

Ivan doesn’t offer an option to back out. He closes his hands around Till’s calves to spread his legs open, and he settles between them on his knees. The angle is awkward, and he’s too low for Ivan to do more than rut along the front of him; it’s the first sign Till’s gotten that he’s not actually as experienced as he seems, and they have to stop and grab a pillow for him to shove beneath his pelvis. It opens up his hips and tips them up towards Ivan, and when he fits his hand around the base of his cock to rub the head over Till’s cunt, it gives him enough leverage to plant his feet and rut himself up into the pressure. 

They’re both breathing hard. Till’s heart is racing from how nervous he is, jumping in his throat and roaring in his ears, and his arms tremble when he reaches for Ivan. He’s sitting upright on his knees between Till’s spread legs, he’s too far away for Till to touch him much, but he can graze his fingers along the sides of his hips when he stretches as far as he can. Ivan’s so focused, his gaze locked between them, and he’s panting through parted lips as he ruts the underside of his dick over Till’s. His balls bump into his cunt, and he jolts, gasping. 

Crimson eyes snap up to meet his. Ivan looks wild, feral like an animal, and when he blinks it doesn’t lessen at all. Till’s stomach flips, and he swallows to try to rid himself of some of the anxiety churning in his gut. It doesn’t help. 

“Tell me you want it,” Ivan murmurs. His voice is so low Till can barely hear him, and he blinks wide eyes up at Ivan as his mind scrambles to process the demand. “Ask me to fuck you, Till.”

The words sputter out of him before he has time to be embarrassed about them. Till’s fingers curl and his nails scratch like talons over Ivan’s hip bones, desperate for touch. His cock is so close to where he wants it, and the head catches in his entrance before it slots higher to rub along his clit. He can’t help the way he whines, and his hips jerk as he heaves. 

“Please fuck me,” Till blurts. His face is on fire, but he’s not ashamed. He wants this, he wants it very badly, and his cunt bears down around the mere suggestion of Ivan pushing into him as he teases him again. “Ivan, please. I want you to.” 

“I’d do anything for you, Till.” Ivan’s other hand comes up to cup around his cheek, lingering there for just a few moments, and then it drifts down his throat and across the front of his body like he’s trying to map it out with his touch. It settles on the outside of his left leg, laying against his thigh with his fingers spread out, and he rubs his thumb into the muscle like he’s trying to soothe him. 

Finally, Ivan pushes in. The blunt, leaking head of his cock breaches him, and Ivan keeps going, pressing further and further as Till stretches around him. It’s so much thicker than his fingers, so much hotter, and it narrows all of Till’s focus to the way he’s being speared open. It’s so much, and it just keeps going. 

“It’s halfway,” Ivan informs, his voice low and gravelly. His forehead is shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight. He looks like he’s barely keeping himself under control, but Till can’t blame him. It must be a lot for Ivan too. He’s also experiencing all of this for the first time. 

“Can you take it?” His gaze is so intense, and Till meets it head on. His walls constrict around the deep pressure of Ivan’s cock, and he swallows thickly. It feels impossible to take any more inside of himself, it’s so much already, but Ivan’s thighs are shaking and there’s a tantalizing bead of sweat clinging to the apex of his throat, and Till can’t fathom backing out now. He will do it, whether or not his body thinks he can. 

“I can take it,” he promises, his nod sharp, certain. He can take it. He will, even if it feels like it’s going to split him in two. He’s supposedly able to have a baby, right? He can take a dick. “Keep going.”

Ivan doesn't need to be told twice. He nudges his hips forward and feeds the rest of his cock into Till’s cunt, and he doesn’t stop until he bottoms out inside him. His balls fall forward to rest against his ass, and Till is buried in an avalanche of too much and so good in a dizzying rush. All the blood in his body feels like it’s centered in his clit, and he feels like he can’t fill his lungs fully even when he gulps in oxygen. 

Both of Ivan’s hands slam into the mattress beside his head. His brows are knit together in the center and he’s blushing hard, and he heaves and shudders with every labored exhale. His jaw is tense, and he’s fighting a losing battle to keep still. Till can feel his pelvis shaking, his whole body is shaking, and he’s a little worried Ivan’s going to collapse and crush him under his muscled frame. He’s way bigger than Till. He’ll suffocate him. 

“Till,” he growls, bending his head to mouth along the side of his neck. Till squeaks out a pinched moan, tipping his head back to offer up more of his throat, and Ivan sinks his teeth in. It hurts all the way into his tendons and bones, and it’s a distracting contrast to the feeling of Ivan’s cock crammed as far into his body as it can fit. 

“Till, my Till. You took me so well,” Ivan praises, trailing a line of biting kisses along his throat and his collarbones and his shoulders. He sucks Till’s flesh behind his teeth and chews on it, and it pops out of his mouth and throbs with the line of fresh bruises he’s leaving. God, he’s gonna have to wear turtlenecks forever . His mom’s gonna kill him if he comes home with a neck full of hickies. He does not need her to know what he’s been doing with Ivan, of all people. 

Cautiously, Ivan draws his hips back. It brings Till’s attention right back to the pressure of being split open, and his cunt squeezes around the head of his cock where it sits just inside him. Ivan huffs a hot, steamy breath against the underside of his jaw, and then he pushes back in. It makes them both groan, it’s so deep, and both of Till’s hands fly up around Ivan’s back so he can dig his nails into his shoulder blades and hold on. 

“Ivan,” he gasps as he thrusts into him again, this time a little harder. It jolts Till’s whole body up the bed, and Ivan grunts, sinking his teeth into the side of Till’s neck like a fucking vampire. Till heaves at the piercing lance of pain, and then his breath is forced out of him in a rush as Ivan shoves into him again. 

He’s so deep, and Till swears he can feel it in his fucking throat when Ivan slams his hips forward hard. Their pelvises whack together with every thrust, but it’s not enough, and he whines as he arches and clutches onto Ivan. 

With a groan, Ivan pushes himself back on his knees. It shifts his cock around inside Till where it’s seated high in his cunt, and he huffs as he slaps his palm down on his abdomen. It’s weird, it feels tingly and so thick inside him, and when the angle changes it sends lightning bolts up his spine from deep in his core. 

“Give me your ankles,” Ivan commands, hands open and waiting. It takes Till a second too long to process the words, and he blinks, his brain dissecting them for meaning through the fog of his arousal. It’s hard to think when he’s got a massive fucking dick inside him, okay? Stiffly, Till lifts one foot off the bed, then the other, and Ivan takes them into his grasp and wraps his long fingers around the bony parts of his ankles. His fingertips overlap, his hands are so big, and Till feels a little lightheaded at the reminder of their size difference. 

With a tight hold on both of Till’s knobby ankles, Ivan bends his legs back against his chest. He folds Till in half like a fucking pretzel, and he doesn’t stop until the fronts of his thighs are pressed right up against his chest. It strains the muscles in the backs of his legs, Till’s not that flexible, but it angles his cock up inside of him into a spot that makes his walls flutter and bear down. It’s good. It’s so good. Ivan leans his weight into Till, just a little, and he loses his breath in a quick huff as it crushes his legs against his chest. Till blinks, he’s rapidly losing his grip on all remaining sensible thought, and Ivan leans forward on his knees over Till’s body. 

“There we go,” Ivan croons as he guides both of Till’s legs over his shoulders. He feels stupid with his feet dangling off the ends of his ankles, just hanging beside Ivan’s ears, but he turns his head to kiss the top of each one even though they’ve been stewing in his socks and his boots all day. Ivan’s nostrils flare like he’s trying to inhale without making it obvious, but Till knows. He knows he’s a freak. Caught in 4k, unable to deny it. 

“How does it feel?” Ivan murmurs, and his hips roll into a gentle rhythm. When he turns his head to face Till, he’s forced to meet his gaze head on. His blown out pupils have swallowed the crimson in his eyes, and his whole face is kissed pink. His flesh is slick with sweat, and he’s panting between parted lips, huffing hot breath over Till’s mouth. They’re a whisper away from a kiss, and Till’s heart is beating so hard. Ivan is so unfairly handsome, so much that Till feels like his head is swimming when he looks at him. There’s something else too, but he’s too scared to dig into it and figure out what it means. This is his best friend. Till can’t be in love with his best friend. He can’t be in love with Ivan. 

“It’s good,” Till replies instead, voice a little strained from how he’s folded. He can’t take a full breath, and there’s intense pressure on the whole upper half of his body from the way Ivan’s leaning onto him. “It’s deep. Feels like it’s in my stomach a little.”

Ivan laughs, but it’s more just an exhale than anything else. He’s not smiling, and his brows are pinched with focus. He’s still trembling, but less so now. Till can feel it where his knees are tucked underneath his ass, pillow shoved out of the way. He’s either one wrong move away from freaking out, or he’s trying not to cum, and Till really hopes it’s the latter. 

“You okay?” he breathes, reaching up between them to cup both his hands around Ivan’s jaw. His eyes snap back to Till’s, they were drifting down and over and side to side along his form, and Ivan’s gaze ices over. He’s putting up walls, and Till’s watching him build them in real time. 

They’re definitely going to have to talk after this, huh? It’s too late now to reverse it, there’s no coming back from Ivan’s literal cock in his pussy, so the best they can do is just…figure it out. They’re not good at talking, but they can manage. They will. Till’s not going to lose his only friend over being a horny teenager. 

If it’s something, for Ivan too, then that’ll be okay. If it means nothing, that’s okay too. It’ll have to be. 

Ivan nods, and his lips curl up at the edges. It’s his practiced smile, not the stupid toothy one he gives Till, and it hurts his heart to see it. There’s something else in his eyes, Till’s not stupid, he can see it, but it passes, and Ivan pulls his hips back and nudges them forward again. 

“I’m going to breed you, Till,” he murmurs, not an answer, but it grinds every other hurtling thought in Till’s spiraling brain to a screaming halt. His hips jerk, and Ivan huffs a laugh, and he drops his head to press his lips against his jaw. “I’m going to fill you up with my cum until it’s leaking out of you, and then I'm going to plug it back up with my cock and give you more. You’re going to be so full of me.”

Till’s nails drag red trails across his back. He scrabbles for a hold on Ivan, and it comes as they pierce his skin with their bitten edges, jagged and sharp. Ivan gasps, stilted and high, and his hips jerk. It shoves his cock in deeper, as far as it’ll go, and Till bears down on him instinctively. 

“Please fuck me,” he whimpers, and Ivan lifts his head. His eyes glimmer with something soft and almost mischievous, and he bows until their lips are just a breath away. When he speaks, they brush against Till’s, and he yearns for a kiss that’s just out of reach. 

“Such a good boy, asking me for what you want,” Ivan croons. His hips pull back slowly, and then he slams back into Till, so hard Ivan has to hold onto him to keep him from sliding up the mattress. Till whines, arching as best as he can, but Ivan’s weight crushes him in place exactly how he’s placed him and won’t let him move any further. “Now say my name. Ask me properly. Be a good boy, Till.”

He should be ashamed. He should be humiliated, or he should throw Ivan off him and punch him in his stupid handsome face for even having the idea that he can talk to Till like this. He should be enraged, but instead he’s so fucking turned on he can’t think about anything except Ivan’s stupid fucking perfect dick and his dumb mouth and how badly he wants to kiss him. 

“Ivan, please,” Till whines. He jerks his hips up, just a little, and Ivan moans softly. When he squeezes his muscles around him, purposefully bearing down as tight as he can, Ivan’s eyelids flutter like he’s doing his best to keep himself in check. “Please fuck me, Ivan.”

Finally, fucking finally, he gives in. He kisses Till open mouthed and so hard, and when he pulls away, his lips are swollen and wet. “Good boy,” Ivan praises with his teeth against the bony line of Till’s jaw. If Till didn’t know him, or maybe if he had more of his facilities still, he’d be scared Ivan was going to rip his throat out. “My good boy.” 

Ivan presses the softest kiss against Till’s throat, his jaw, his lips. He inhales through his nose and out of his mouth, and then their eyes meet as Till blinks up at him like he’s got flood lights blinding him. “I’ll give you what you want, Till. Such a good boy for asking me. I’ll give it to you.” 

Ivan pulls his hips back, and then he thrusts forward so hard their hips meet with a deep whack . Till shouts, and his hands fly over Ivan’s back as they lose their purchase. He does it again, leaning in to lay his forehead against Till’s, the sound of them moaning trapped between their bodies as Ivan fucks into him. 

It is so, so deep. Till can feel the head of his cock bumping high inside his cunt every time he pushes forward. The glide of it against his walls soothes the shock of pain every time it hits his cervix, but there’s nowhere else for it to go, and he can live with bruised insides for a couple days in exchange for clenching around the girth of it. It is so good it feels like it’s blinding him, and there’s no space in his head to think about anything except the head catching on his rim and the drag of it against the front of his cunt where it’s bright and overwhelming. He’s so wet, he can hear how wet he is as Ivan pounds into him, and it doesn’t lessen any when Ivan’s balls slap against his taint or his pubic bone smacks into his sensitive clit. 

“Ivan,” he gasps, his voice unsteady and wavering. He’s clinging to Ivan’s back, his waist, his neck, anywhere he can, and Till’s hands tremble where they clutch at his flesh. His clit is throbbing in time with his pulse, and Ivan groans into his mouth as he kisses him sloppily with his teeth and his tongue. 

When he cums, it’s sudden and shocks them both. Till feels it building in his gut, and in three seconds flat, it crests before he can warn Ivan. He breaks away from their kiss with a sobbing moan, and his muscles spasm around Ivan’s cock as he fucks him through it. He’s never cum from penetration alone, but every single nerve is raw with stimulation, and all his senses are flooded with Ivan. Till can’t do a single thing but cry his name, and then Ivan buries himself to the hilt as deep as he can and groans a mantra of Till’s name as he finishes too. 

The rush of cum inside him doesn’t feel as hot as Till always expected it would. His pussy is already so full of his own fluids, so maybe that’s why it’s hard to tell the difference. He is suddenly much wetter, though, and his cunt milks Ivan’s cock with the aftershocks of his orgasm as he fills him up. He doesn’t pull out, and Till’s eyes lock onto his face to watch the way it collapses with his pleasure. He is so beautiful. It’s a shame Till’s never let himself see it before. 

They’re both panting when the force of their orgasms die out. Till’s legs are shaking, he didn’t even realize, and Ivan carefully lets them down from his shoulders as he sits back on his knees. He shudders through a deep inhale, and his hands wander down Till’s whole body, smoothing his palms over his neck and his heaving chest and his waist. Ivan squeezes his fingers into his hips, and they jump at the touch. His whole body feels like it’s on edge, so sensitive. 

“You did,” Ivan starts, exhaling in a rush. His hands wander across Till’s pelvis, and the tips of his fingers tickle over his pubic bone. All of his nerves are on fire, and the stimulation so close to his pussy sends a piercing hot bolt through the base of his clit. “So well,” he finishes, and he presses his fingers together and digs them into Till’s gut right above where his cock is nestled deep inside him. 

His whole world closes in on the pressure. Till squeaks out a stunned moan, and the sensation of Ivan’s cock keeping him spread open triples. He can feel his dick through Till’s body, he can see it in the intense focus on Ivan’s face, and Till scratches down his arms and whimpers helplessly as he massages his cock through his stomach. 

When Till’s sure he can’t take it anymore, Ivan relents. He wraps both his hands around the backs of Till’s knees and rubs them up and down, soothing. Till is heaving and red all over, and he’s beginning to ache deep inside. He certainly feels like he just got punched in the cervix over and over, and he’s sure it’ll be worse tomorrow when his body is less tingly from his orgasm. He feels high and floaty from all the endorphins, and his limbs feel heavy, like he’d wading through a pool. 

“Try to relax,” Ivan instructs, his voice soft, and his eyes drift to where Till’s still stretched around the base of his cock. It feels like it’s starting to soften, but it’s hard to tell, and Till is doing his absolute best not to tighten up around him and overstimulate them both. “It might hurt when I pull out.” 

It does, but only a little where he’s puffy and sensitive around the rim of his entrance, and Ivan soothes it with his thumbs and a coo of praise. A rush of cum and slick spill out of him following his cock, and Ivan pushes it back inside with his fingertips. He’s breathing through his mouth, and his eyes lock onto Till’s spasming cunt with unyielding focus. His whole chest rises and falls with each of his breaths. He’s visibly restraining himself, and Till can’t help but wonder what it looks like to see Ivan let go completely.  

“Shower?” Ivan asks, and his eyes lift to meet Till’s after several long moments of staring. Till’s lying in a puddle of fluids, and it’s sticky and uncomfortable and getting cold very quickly. 

There’s a new video autoplaying on his computer. The guys are moaning very loudly, but it sounds incredibly genuine, and Till’s eyes drift over to it. God, how did all of this come from watching porn together? Why had he even agreed to do it in the first place? He doesn’t regret it, but it is not helping the awkwardness of the after part any. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, pushing himself up on shaky arms to sit. It hurts, his guts feel like they were scrambled around and then dropped back into his body, and he’s so sensitive that the sheets against his sticky cunt make him jolt. “Can I go first?” 

They don’t have to take turns, Ivan has five bathrooms in his house, but he agrees without meeting Till’s eyes. When he comes back, the sheets are changed and the tabs on the computer are closed. Ivan’s sitting at his desk looking out the window, and his hair is damp. The collar of his shirt is wet like he was too hasty putting it on, and there are faint red lines from Till’s nails peeking out of the top on the nape of his neck. He wants to leave more. 

“So, uh,” Till starts, curling up cross legged in the center of Ivan’s bed. His whole body is tender, but he’s clean, and he smells like Ivan’s body wash and his shampoo. Ivan turns in his chair to face him, slowly, and their gazes meet in the middle. Till’s heart is beating so hard. His mouth is very dry. “What other videos do you have saved?”

A smile cracks Ivan’s morose expression. He turns to face his desk, gliding the mouse over its branded pad, and clicks on the internet browser. 

“Come sit and I’ll show you.” The other chair waits at his side where Till vacated it earlier. It creaks when he sinks down into it, and Ivan types in his password. There are probably a hundred videos saved on that weird website, and he scrolls through his bookmarks slowly so Till can survey each of them. 

“What’s that one?” Till asks, jabbing his finger at the screen. Ivan freezes, cursor hovering over the title ‘Emo twink Tal begs for hung jock Evan to pound his tight pussy in public’. They’ve made a ton of videos, and so many of them are incredibly specific. Like they’re requests or something. 

Ivan clicks, and the video loads. “It’s one of my favorites,” he murmurs, pinning Till with his sharp, twinkling gaze. He swallows, his mouth isn’t dry anymore, and he shifts his weight in the desk chair. His cunt is sore, but he’s still a little wet. He could only scrape so much of Ivan’s cum out of him bent over in the shower. 

They don’t talk, and Till shoots his mom a text telling her he’s spending the night at Ivan’s. When he limps inside in the morning, he’s wearing a turtleneck shirt under his hoodie, and his back aches from Ivan’s nails. 

“Did you have a good time with Ivan, sweetie?” Io asks, and Till does his best to forcefully will his ability to blush away. It doesn’t work, his face is searing hot, but his mom’s got her back turned as she cooks. “What did you boys do?”

A flood of images fills his mind. Begging for his cock, squirting on crooked fingers, swallowing around his dick under his desk with Ivan’s hands in his hair. They’d fucked all over his bedroom, and then in his bathroom too. They’re lucky his house is big, and that his parents are absent and unobservant. Neither one of them were very quiet. 

Till blinks. His mom turns from the stove with a kind smile on her lips, and he stuffs both hands into his pockets like she’ll be able to see Ivan’s DNA permanently embedded beneath his fingernails. The rest of the evidence on his body is so much worse. It’s going to take forever to heal, especially when they hang out almost everyday and Ivan has no concept of personal space when it comes to Till. Maybe he should see about starting birth control, just in case. He doesn’t want to be a teenage pregnancy statistic. 

“Uh,” he starts, remembering she’d asked him a question. She’s got a look in her eyes like she knows, but Till’s being paranoid. Of course she doesn’t know. “Just hung out. Watched some YouTube videos. You know, normal stuff.”

Io opens her mouth, clocking the lie immediately. Till is not emotionally prepared for a lecture on safe sex. 

“I’m gonna go work on my homework,” he blurts, jolting into action. “Bye, mom!” He slams his door in a hurry when he gets inside, and he does his absolute best not to have a nervous breakdown in his bed. Ivan sends him three texts. They’re all videos, and they’ve got depraved commentary about recreating them attached. Till’s gonna die. 

When he comes out for dinner, there’s a box of condoms sitting in the hallway beside his door, and a printout on safe sex is balanced on top. The condoms won’t fit on Ivan, but Till fears he’s addicted to the hot rush of his cum inside him anyway, and he’d miss the way Ivan’s eyes devour him as he pushes it back inside Till when he pulls out. 

Till’s an idiot, but at least he’s not the lovesick idiot who’s been paying for porn for years and pretending it’s his best friend. Till one, Ivan zero. Then again, he did fuck his best friend because of said porn, so maybe they’re even. 

At the dinner table, Io smiles, but she won’t meet his eyes. Till’s face is beet red. He can’t get it to go away. She leaves him with a pat on the hand and a few parting words, and Till wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole. 

“Just be cautious, honey,” she cautions. How the fuck does she know? Mom superpowers? Till nods frantically, and he scrubs his plate aggressively in the sink to give himself something to do. “And be careful of computer viruses.” She knows. 

Till wants to die, but first, he has to watch the videos Ivan sent him. Maybe with him, actually. Then he can die, and he’ll take Ivan with him.