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“Would you let me drink your blood, Till?”
Ivan’s breath is hot against the crook of Till’s throat, damp and stuttered, and his fingers grip onto Till’s hip deep enough to bruise. He’s got one arm curled around his skull, and his nails scratch against Till’s scalp at the crown of his head. Ivan’s moan sounds like it’s shoved out of him by the force of his want when he presses a kiss to Till’s skin, and then it is when he bites down and Till jabs a knee into his ribcage.
“You’re a freak,” Till scolds, but it doesn’t hold much weight when his cock jumps between their bodies from the sting of his teeth and the image that jumps into his mind of Ivan lapping blood from his neck.
His answering laugh is breathy and deep, and Ivan’s tongue lathes over the indents his incisors left at the apex of his throat. The heat makes Till shudder, and they grind together in a heady feedback loop as blunt nails rake down Ivan’s back and Ivan kisses across his neck. His fingers squeeze into Till’s hip and waist, and Till jerks his pelvis up against Ivan with urgency as he tips his head back to bare his bitten throat.
“I want to peel open your skin and lick your skeleton clean,” Ivan groans into his jaw, and Till’s mind rears because what the fuck . Unfortunately, he’s ruined for Ivan’s weird statements and his deep voice, and it makes Till cry out and buck beneath him. Desperately, he locks his ankles together behind Ivan’s legs to maintain the pressure of his hips and keep him close so they can continue to rock together, breathing hard.
“Don’t speak ever again,” Till demands, and Ivan obliges with the excuse to lick into every nook and cranny of his ear. It is arguably much worse than the shit he spews, it’s wet and loud and disgusting, but then his snaggletooth scrapes across Till’s cartilage piercing and he whimpers.
There is a tingly tightness brewing in his gut, and Till has shared enough handjobs with Ivan to know what it means. His arousal is nearing its peak, he’s going to cum (Ivan had taught him that word from a book the old humans wrote), but he’s barely done more than lay back and let Ivan gnaw on him. He’s not done yet. He wants more.
Freedom is a funny thing after a lifetime of prison. Till wants more, but taking it is frightening. Making choices has always led to punishment, dealt with a heavy clawed hand and a swift electric shock. His heart is a staccato beat in his chest, and his stomach flips with anxiety that pisses him off. This is just Ivan, and he’d cum in his pants if Till told him he’d let him sniff his dirty laundry or watch him take a shower. The stakes are low. He’s never been one to let his fear rule him, anyway, and he’s not going to start now.
Till’s hand darts between them, and Ivan’s moan is ruddy and low as Till wraps his fingers around his cock. He’s stiff and hot and so hard, and his hips buck as Till spreads his legs more and angles himself up. The tip of Ivan’s cock is wet, and he rubs himself against it as he guides the head to press against the tight ring of his entrance.
Ivan’s thighs are quaking. He’s panting wetly into Till’s shoulder, and his free hand skates rapidly over his ribcage and his waist and his leg like he’s trying to find purchase for it but his body won’t settle long enough to find a hold. Till’s name is an endless mantra on his lips, and his hips are wrought with barely controlled tension as Till urges him tighter against his core with his heels.
“Come on,” Till grumbles when Ivan doesn’t push in, frustrated and insistent. Ivan lives to lap the blood from his wounds, thrills when his eyes sting, and he’ll surely exhilarate from Till’s reactions at the inevitable burn of intercourse. Till has limited knowledge of how this works between humans, but he’s not an idiot. He knows that the next step of this is penetration, and while he expects it to hurt, it’ll be better with Ivan. Unfortunately, he loves Ivan. He wants this with him, the culmination of their physical commitment to one another, and he wants the freedom of choosing the pain of it.
Ivan’s head lifts from Till’s body. His hair is sticking to his temples from sweat, and there is a pinch between his brows that Till does not understand. He whines, embarrassingly impatient, and he cants his hips up and opens up the space between his thighs more as he presses Ivan forward with his legs. He won’t move , even when Till squeezes his eyes shut and grapples with his cock between them, and it’s fucking frustrating when all he wants is for Ivan to hurry up and fuck him. He’s hard and right there, and there’s no reason he should be making Till wait except to torment him.
“Till.” Ivan is completely still, and Till’s eyes snap to his face, alarmed by his tone. There is an aggravated scowl on his lips, and his eyes are deep deep crimson, brow heavy. “What are you doing?”
Till blinks, and rage roars in his mind. Isn’t it obvious what he’s doing? Is he reading the situation wrong? How could he be?
“Trying to get you to fuck me,” he snaps indignantly. The accusatory inflection in Ivan’s voice froths the anger in him with ease, but his erection does not wane, and he rolls his hips insistently against the head of Ivan’s cock where he’s holding it against himself. It’s obviously not an issue of desire, Ivan’s erection is rock hard in his palm, so what the fuck is his issue?
Strong hands clutch onto his hips harshly, forcing him motionless, and Till’s expression twists with frustration and anger as it boils over in his chest.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he balks, shoving at Ivan’s shoulder too hard for the intimacy of the situation they’re in. He is alight with embarrassment and annoyance, and he wants Ivan to get the fuck on with it already. “Just put it in!”
“Till.” Ivan’s tone is adamant, and there’s an edge of something in it that sounds almost afraid. Ivan’s eyes are wide and worried as they examine Till’s face with urgency, and he pushes himself upright to sit with his legs folded beneath himself. His palms smooth up the length of Till’s thighs to rest at the sides of his knees, and Till tucks his jaw against his chest and averts his eyes as he closes his legs around Ivan’s frame.
“I’m not just going to ‘ put it in’,” Ivan admonishes, and Till grinds his teeth as he folds his arms over his chest. He has half a mind to kick Ivan square in the chest, but he seems genuinely concerned, and Till isn’t that big of an asshole.
“I thought you said you’d done this before.” Ivan’s voice is softer now, and his wide palms rub up and down Till’s calves heavily. He isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be soothing or if Ivan is using him as an outlet for his nervous energy, but it doesn’t seem to be helping either of them. His thumbs pass over the map of scars on his legs, and Till can feel his eyes burning his flesh as Ivan stares into his soul.
Till’s frown hardens, and he shifts his shoulders uncomfortably and rubs his fingertips into his elbows. The uneasy feeling is back in the pit of his stomach, and his rage is dwindling as Ivan’s startling reaction sets in. Maybe he was wrong about all of this after all.
“Well, yeah,” Till breathes, and he can’t quite convince himself to meet Ivan’s eyes, staring holes into the wall behind him instead. “That’s always what they’ve done.”
Ivan’s hands clench around his ankles, and he leans in slowly, brushing the softest kiss against Till’s kneecap. His exhale is heavy and saddened, and his lashes brush over Till’s skin as he turns his face into his calf.
“I thought that might be your answer,” he breathes, and his lips press into Till’s skin once, twice, leaving a trail of chaste kisses down the line of his tibia before chasing up the other one. His eyes are shut, and when he opens them to gaze up at Till over his knees, they’re overflowing with sorrow.
Till swallows, there’s an anxious lump sitting thickly in the middle of his throat, and he rubs his palms across his ribcage as his arms unfold. His heartbeat jumps in his chest, and there’s apprehension fluttering in his gut that makes him crave the familiar release of lashing out.
“That’s not…what they did to you?” he asks instead, hushed, and Ivan’s lips turn up at the ends in a sad smile that doesn’t bare his fang. He pushes himself up to kneel, and he crawls across the mattress to fit himself along the length of Till’s body on his side, pressed together from chest to ankle.
“I’ve never done this fully,” Ivan confesses, and Till is thankful he chooses to tuck his face beneath his chin instead of turning those sharp red eyes on him. “Unsha was always worried they’d damage me, so he didn’t allow me to do more than use my mouth or my hands.” A reward to sweeten a deal, not a thing to throw into a crowd for entertainment. Not something to watch thrash and scream.
Hesitantly, Till lifts a hand to splay his fingers across Ivan’s back. His fingerprints fit along the pink scar that lies along his spine, one he earned onstage with Till, and he angles his face to bury his nose in the crown of Ivan’s hair. It smells fresh, like some kind of fruit he can’t identify, and he breathes in deep and slow to fill his lungs with the scent.
He’d never been certain if Ivan had been used for the same things he had. Till had seen his photo plastered on billboards and in magazines, obviously the segyein found him attractive, but Ivan’s image demanded respect and gentleness. Till couldn’t imagine a world where he’d be beaten down for disobedience or pressed into a tabletop and forced to take every alien appendage in the room. Ivan was the model of a good, obedient pet, not a feral beast that needed wrangling.
“How do you…know what to do then?” Till asks, his voice coming out a bit strained and warbled. His eyes are stinging, and he squeezes them shut as Ivan’s fingers track across the lines of his ribs through his skin. “You read it?”
Ivan nods, and the motion of it makes Till’s teeth click together as his head collides with the underside of his chin. He can feel Ivan’s deep inhale, and he straightens at Till’s side, forcing his gaze onto him as he dislodges Till’s face from his hair.
“I had a library after I graduated, in Unsha’s office,” he explains, and his eyes are bright and earnest when Till meets them. His heart is still pounding, but Ivan’s hand slides down the length of Till’s arm until he can lace their fingers together, and it helps steady the nervous thump of it. “When I was good, he’d gift me a new book. Some of them were…rather explicit. They explained how to do things between humans.”
There’s a pink flush sitting on Ivan’s cheekbones that Till wants to kiss, but he’d rather throw himself out the window than admit to that, so he doesn’t. His expression is soft and patient, and his hand is warm and firm and familiar in Till’s. He’s still hard, miraculously, cock pressed against Till’s hipbone, but the urgency of his arousal has waned and his hips are stationary.
Maybe this wasn’t meant to hurt after all. Maybe the burning tear of this had been part of his punishment all along. Till had assumed that it was always this way for the receiving partner, that it would only hurt less with a body made to handle that species. Even when he’d been good, drugged so heavily his limbs hadn’t been his own, it had still burned so hot it felt like he was ripping in two. He’d been ready for that, with Ivan, a worthwhile sacrifice for the closeness and the intimacy of sexual intercourse.
“How are we supposed to do it then?” Till manages to ask, and he lets his gaze drift over Ivan’s strong jaw, the line of his neck, his bare chest tucked up against Till’s ribcage. He’s painfully handsome, and Till is ashamed to admit he’d do anything for him. “It’s not…like that?”
The warmth of his body disappears as Ivan sits up, and Till lets him go, the touch of their fingers lingering until he’s out of reach. The mattress creaks and rises as his weight leaves it, and Till wants to lick the muscles that shift in his back as he rummages through to the bottom of the box containing his clothing near the opposite wall.
“We use this,” he declares, and when he turns, he’s holding a small clear tube in his hand. It’s labeled in Segyein, and it looks like water, sloshing in the tube as Ivan returns to kneel beside Till on the bed. “It’s called ‘lubricant’. You use it to make things slick, so it doesn’t hurt.”
Till watches discerningly as he passes the product over, and he turns it in his hands like he’ll be able to read the label on the back. He can’t, the only thing he can read is sheet music, and there are no helpful diagrams to give him any more information about its use. It’s three quarters full, unsealed, and Till squishes the tube experimentally in his grasp. It gives easily, the sides collapsing, and the substance inside presses its way up to the seam at the top.
He has a million questions in his mind. What does it feel like? Where did he get it? Had Ivan used it on himself before? “You’ll show me?” is what he settles on, and Ivan’s nod is eager as he holds his hand open for the product. Till passes it over, and his nerves settle a bit at the sure, confident set of Ivan’s smile.
“Lay back,” he instructs, and the cap pops as he flicks it with his thumb. Rigidly, Till does, and Ivan guides his thighs apart with a solid palm against the right one as he climbs back into bed. “It might be a little cold, but it’ll warm up as I touch you.” His voice is even and assured, and Till trusts him with his life. Placing his body in Ivan’s hands is as effortless as breathing.
The lubricant glistens on Ivan’s fingers when he upturns it over them. It absorbs all of his focus as he spreads it out over three of them, and Till is magnetized by the expression on his face. He’s thorough, spreading it down each knuckle until it reaches the webbing of each finger, and Till is somehow less confident he can take those three fingers in himself than he was at his ability to handle massive segyein. Then again, it hadn’t been an option to back out then. Desire is an odd thing. He wants this, and he’s going to be disappointed if he can’t have it.
“Just try to breathe,” Ivan reminds him, and he moves to kneel between Till’s spread thighs, pressing a soft kiss to the bend of his knee. With a soft exhale, he pillows his head against Till’s knee, and one hand drifts to rest beside his cock where he’s scarred from hair removal procedures. His fingers extend outwards, they’re so close, and Till bites into his lip as his hips cant upwards.
Ivan presses another lingering kiss to Till’s skin, and then his shoulders shift as he reaches forward with his other hand. The first touch of his fingertip against Till makes him jump and hiss, and Ivan’s expression is unchanging and firm, glued to him.
“Colder than I thought,” Till grumbles, and Ivan’s answering laugh is a ghost of a breath that sends chills racing down Till’s thigh. There’s pressure, he whispers ‘relax’ against Till’s flesh, and then his finger sinks in up to the first knuckle in a smooth glide.
In the grand scheme of Till’s sexual experiences, it’s nothing. One tiny human finger, slick and gentle, is nothing , but it makes him gasp as his hips jump and his fingers grapple to curl into the sheets.
“I’m okay,” he assures quickly; he can see the worry behind Ivan’s eyes as they dart across his face. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s about as strange as could be expected from sticking a finger up your ass. “You can give me more.”
Ivan pauses a moment, waiting to see if he’ll take it back, and when he doesn’t, his gaze drops to watch as he presses his index finger into Till’s body down to his last knuckle. His pupils are dilated, and his lips are parted with his breath.
“How does it feel?” Iavn asks, barely above a whisper, and his gaze moves like molasses up the length of Till’s body to meet his eyes. His stare is heady and dark, and it makes Till squirm from the focused attention. Ivan is always watching him, but it feels crushing like this, like it could make him dizzy from the weight of his gaze.
Till takes a deep breath, and he exhales slowly. His face is hot, and his hands clench and unclench in the sheets at his sides. “Fine,” he replies, and Ivan’s lips twitch with mirth. “Like nothing, but something at the same time. It’s weird.”
He hums, low in his throat, and the vibration of it rumbles against Till’s scrawny leg. Crimson eyes wander to watch the place where his hand is, and he draws his finger back slightly. “You want another?”
He swallows, considers, and nods once. His cock is heavy against his stomach, and he wants Ivan more than he knew was possible. He’d be a fool to call it quits now.
“Yeah,” Till murmurs, and this time, Ivan doesn’t hesitate to press forward with his index and middle fingers. The ring of muscle is tight, and Till’s rim clenches around the intrusion as he pushes forward. It’s a smooth glide though, cool from the lubricant, and he keeps going and going and going until they’re both seated fully inside him. That feels like a lot, and Till’s fingers outstretch, searching blindly until they sink into dark hair.
Ivan’s head tips into his hand thoughtlessly, and he moans openly when Till grips onto him by the root of his hair. His exhale is hot against his thigh, and his lashes flutter against his cheekbones to meet the flush there. Till wants to drag him up by his hair and kiss him until his mouth is bruised from the shape of his lips, wants to ruin him for eternity until all that’s left in his mind is the taste of Till’s name.
“You’re tight,” Ivan breathes, his eyes slanting open to stare intensely up at Till. He flexes his fingers, and the shockwave of it ripples through his core and makes his hips buck. It’s a lot, but it doesn’t hurt, and Till clenches down on them as he pants. “I can’t imagine fitting my cock in here.”
Something about the low intonation of his voice saying something like that makes Till’s dick throb, and his breath comes out of him cutting and hot as his nails pinch against Ivan’s scalp. The bite from his hold makes Ivan moan in turn, and Till can see his hips grind forward against nothing from where he’s knelt between his legs.
“Gimme more,” Till demands in a breathless rush, and Ivan huffs a laugh that fans down his leg and over the wetness clinging to the head of Till’s cock. His gut feels tight in that way it gets before he finishes, and he’s certain if Ivan touched his dick right now, he’d spill over his own stomach.
“You’re needier than I thought you’d be.” Ivan’s voice is a deep purr that Till can feel inside him, and the hand splayed across his gut vanishes to grab for the lubricant drifting in the sheets. It returns between his legs, and Till hisses and jolts as ice cold wetness kisses him.
“Shit,” he gasps, and he hates the way his muscles clench around Ivan’s knuckles at the unexpected temperature. Was that a good reaction? Till wasn’t sure himself, but it didn’t seem bad. Shocking, but in a way that thrilled him more than scared him. “That’s fucking cold.”
Ivan hums, and it rumbles through the muscles of Till’s leg like a massage. The cap clicks shut, and Ivan readjusts between his legs, twisting his fingers to turn his wrist towards the ceiling. It flexes his bicep and his shoulder in a way that makes Till want to bite deep into the muscles, and he groans as he rolls his gaze up to the ceiling.
“I don’t think you mind too much.” Cocky bastard. Till kicks his leg out at him, and Ivan captures his ankle in his free hand. In one smooth motion, he guides Till’s leg to his mouth to press a sucking kiss onto his skin that lingers at the inside of his thigh. Ivan’s hair falls away from his scalp, and it tickles against the shaft of Till’s erection in a way that feels intentional. “I could feel you tighten up around me.”
Till can’t deny it, and truthfully, he doesn’t feel like he has the mental capacity to try right now anyway. The space Ivan’s fingers are carving within him take up most of the room in his mind, and the need for more overshadows everything else that remains.
Ivan’s hand skims up the outside of his calf as he presses deep kisses against his skin, biting and sucking red marks into the flesh. It skirts over the bend of his knee, down the slope of his thigh, and stops to curl around Till’s hipbone to grip onto him tightly. In the same movement, he pulls his elbow back and rams forward with three fingers, freshly slicked and still erring on the side of chilly.
That burns, and Till’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t tell Ivan to stop, though, and Ivan doesn’t, pushing in in in until his fingers are seated fully inside him. He shifts his weight on his knees, his shoulders tense, and then very suddenly Till is punched in the gut with burning pleasure as he angles his fingers up.
“It is there,” Ivan murmurs, but the words echo empty in Till’s head, drowned out by the roar of his impending orgasm. His gut is tight and tense, his fingers are locked in Ivan’s hair, and his thighs quake as he bears down on the fingers in him. It’s so much, he’s never felt pleasure like this before, and Till’s mouth drops open on a silent moan as those fingers shove up against that spot in him.
“Come on.” Ivan’s voice is gruff, and it rumbles through Till’s skeleton all the way to his pelvis. The pressure eases up, and then he does it again, and Till’s voice cracks from the desperation of his whine as he spills suddenly over his stomach.
Ivan’s lips are moving, Till can feel them brushing against his skin, but his voice comes through his head like Till’s underwater. There’s blood roaring in his ears, and the ceiling blinds him with the brightness of its white paint as his eyes unfocus. His orgasm feels like it comes from deep within him, like it’s surging from the place Ivan is cramming his fingertips against, and it swells and crests and crashes over him until he’s left panting and quaking.
“Fu-“ Till’s chest heaves, and he slumps bonelessly against the mattress, every muscle in his body trembling. He’s sticky and hot, and his cheeks are burning from the flush in them. “ Fuck, Ivan. What the fuck did you just do to me?”
Ivan’s laugh is bright and delighted, and his eyes crinkle so hard from his smile they squint at Till. His fingers are still, and the pressure from them has dissipated. His arm hangs relaxed from his shoulder, and he lets Till ride the aftershocks of his orgasm without resistance.
“That’s called your prostate,” he explains, and his knees come around Till’s hips as he scoots himself forward, spine straight and tall. His legs are bent over Ivan’s thighs, and when Till steadies himself enough to look down at him, he can see the hard line of his cock standing upright between their bodies
“I studied four different diagrams, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find it,” Ivan continues. His unoccupied hand animates, and he rubs over Till’s chest and his arms and his stomach now that he can reach, palm flat and fingers spread to cover the most surface area. His fingertips drift through the splash of Till’s spend, and they rub it into his flesh like lotion. Till doesn’t have the energy to scold him for it. “I tried on my own, but the angle was not ideal.”
Bewildered, Till realizes that’s why the bottle wasn’t full, and he can’t fight down the image that appears before his eyes of Ivan sobbing on three of his own fingers. He clenches down, and the motion shocks them both, a cry lurching from Till’s lips. Ivan laughs again, and his elbow moves to rock his fingers forward and back gently within him.
“It’s going to feel strange when I pull out. It helps to breathe as deep as you can. Just try to relax,” Ivan advises. Till shakes his head, his hair sticking to the sweat on his temples, and he plants his feet to get the leverage he needs to roll his hips down onto Ivan’s hand. His legs feel a bit like jelly, but he’s persistent, and he won’t let some muscle tremors keep him from what he wants.
“No,” he groans, and his arms lift to reach out for Ivan, fingertips barely kissing his chest. He’s too far, and Till needs him closer now. “No, I’m not done. I want more. I want you to fuck me.” Till will never confess to the raw want in his voice, and Ivan looks at him like a man starved as he pleads, eyes dark and hungry .
“Oh yeah?” he breathes, and one thick brow lifts as crimson roves across Till’s frame. Ivan’s fang pricks his lip, and he presses his fingers forward, arching them up into Till’s prostate. It makes his cock twitch, half hard and wet from his orgasm, and Till’s spine arcs as he tucks his face into the pillow with a whimper.
Ivan’s hand vanishes from his ribs, and he looms over Till threateningly, his fingers curling around his jaw. “If I’m going to fuck you,” he starts, voice low and gravelly, “I want to hear you.” His grip is firm, and he forces Till’s head to turn until their eyes lock. Ivan looks like he wants to eat him alive, and Till’s heart is beating so hard in anticipation.
“Fuck me,” Till breathes without hesitation, his arms wrapping around Ivan’s shoulders, drawing him in close until he fills his entire field of view. “Ivan, I need you to fuck me.”
Till had never begged for anything in his life. Not as a kid, scared and confused, and not as a pet either. He’d die before he begged Urak for peace, for a reprieve from the never ending torture.
If Ivan commanded him to, he’d beg now. Without thought, he’d do it. If he stopped now, Till felt like he wouldn’t be able to go on, and there was no room for pride or shame with the urgency of his desire.
He’s merciful, maybe because of his own unattended want. Ivan bends to mouth along Till’s throat, wet and with teeth, one arm bracketed beside his head to hold himself up. His other fingers rock forward, spread open just a little, and draw back out of him. Till’s whine is high, and his hips chase the feeling, body slumping back into the mattress when his fingers leave completely.
“Hold on,” Ivan breathes, and he pats around blindly for the lubricant as he sucks on the letters on Till’s neck. When he finds it, the cap pops open, and Ivan shifts above him as he reaches between them to squeeze it onto the head of his cock with a hiss. His knuckles bump into Till’s hip as he spreads it over himself, and then his slick hand presses into the bend of his knee to urge it up against his chest. Till folds without resistance, his hand replacing Ivan’s to hold it there, and Ivan bites down on him as he situates himself on his knees.
All movement halts for a moment. Ivan lifts his head from Till’s throat, locking his gaze onto teal eyes, and his pupils are blown wide, leaving a whisper of crimson around them. His face is hot, jaw slack with heavy breaths, and his forehead is shiny with sweat. Till could sink his teeth into the tension brewing in the air between them, but Ivan’s lips are soft and gentle as he leans in to kiss him thoroughly.
“I love you,” Ivan murmurs between their lips, and Till’s fingers scratch against the shorn hair at the nape of his neck.
“You too,” he whispers, pulling him in to press another kiss to his mouth. “I love you.” The magnitude of this moment sits weighty on Till’s chest, and it forces the words from his mouth before he can stop to think about them. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it still feels awkward and clunky on his tongue after a lifetime of never saying it.
With an inhale that wracks Ivan’s whole being, he reaches between them to grip around the base of his cock, and Till sucks in a breath as he feels Ivan’s dick bump against him clumsily. It’s hot, slick from the lubricant, and so hard Till isn’t sure how he’s been patient so long.
“I love you,” Ivan whispers again, and then they’re both gasping as he presses forward, fitting the head of his cock inside him. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a lot, and Till’s chest heaves with each gasping breath he takes as Ivan pushes in and in until his hips are seated firmly against his ass.
“Till,” he wheezes, the fingers beside his head outstretching frantically to touch him, brushing through the hair at his ear and pinching his piercings. “Till, Till, you feel so good. I love you. You feel so good.”
Ivan’s arm is shaking where it’s bracketed around him. His other hand, still a little wet from the lubricant, darts out from between them and grips onto Till’s thigh tightly, fingers pressing deep into his flesh. His shoulders shudder with each inhale he takes, he looks like he’s barely holding himself back from the edge, and he bends his head to lick and bite over Till’s throat and the curve of his shoulder. He’s going to be a mess of bruises and bite marks in the morning, and Till will wear each one with pride.
“Ivan,” Till exhales, his hips jumping at the sting of teeth on his skin. His cock has filled again, and it rubs between their bodies when he ruts his hips up. His mind is full of dark hair and crimson eyes and a cock that’s so thick he thinks he can feel it in his throat when he sucks in a breath. Ivan’s muttering a long string of something that feels like praise alongside his earnest mouthing, and Till wants to hear him lose himself.
“Shut up and fuck me,” Till demands, but his voice wavers with his ruin, and he huffs sharply. The back of his knee is sweaty where he holds it against his chest, and he clings to the root of Ivan’s hair with his other hand with fingers that pull and nails that bite. He can feel Ivan’s cock twitch inside him as he bears down on it, and Till’s whole body aches with need.
Ivan laughs, almost disbelieving, and he presses his smile to Till’s jaw before he pushes himself upright and sits back on his knees. Surveying eyes trail from Till’s face down his body, and they screech to a halt when they reach the place they’re joined. He looks carnivorous , and he grasps at Till’s thighs with both hands and squeezes.
“You’re so perfect.” Ivan’s fingers knead the meat of his thighs, preparing them for a feast, and his gaze snaps up to return to Till’s face. There’s a shine in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but Till won’t ask about it, and Ivan won’t stop to explain. “Tell me if it hurts.”
It’s the last reprieve he gets. Ivan’s hips grind forward, Till grunts, and then they pull back until the tip of his cock is the only thing that remains in Till’s body. When he presses his hips forward, it’s slow and measured, and Till exhales as he sinks back into him.
It doesn’t hurt, not even a little, and his cock throbs on his belly as Ivan rocks forward and back again. It’s not like before, blinded by searing hot pain and pinned by a slimy alien body. Till’s vision is full of human flesh, and Ivan’s ragged breathing surrounds his mind. It’s good, better than he thought it could be, and he wants it to consume him until all that remains in his head is Ivan and his cock.
“Harder,” Till demands, and he grunts as that tight grip slides to hold him by his hips. Till’s hand drops from his leg, and he moves to cross them both behind Ivan at the ankle. Ivan grunts, and Till reaches out to curl his fingers around his strong forearms, fingertips pressing into the metal on his wrist.
Ivan shifts on his knees, and his eyes flick between Till’s expression and his cock sheathed in him. When he thrusts forward again, he drags Till to him, forcing his cock deeper inside. They both lose their breath, and Ivan’s chin meets his chest as his head drops. There’s dark hair sticking to his forehead, rumpled out of place from Till’s hands, and his brows wrinkle from his focus. He looks like he’s in rapture, barely clinging to composure.
Till can do little more than scrabble for purchase on his arms as Ivan fucks into him. With each snap of his hips, he pulls Till against him, and their skin meets with a sharp slap. Ivan is panting hard, moaning and gasping every time Till’s muscles clench around him, and he’s holding onto his hips so hard Till’s sure he’ll be bruised with the ghost of his touch. He craves the marks, and he wonders what Ivan’s expression will look like when he presses his fingers into them to make them sting like he does with all Till’s bruises.
Sensitive from his orgasm, Till is barreling towards his second already. He arches and rocks into Ivan’s thrusts, and when he leans his weight back onto his heels and drags Till’s hips up over his thighs across his lap, his voice breaks with a cry. His cock bullies its way into him and shoves past his prostate, and Till’s hands slap against Ivan’s legs to hold onto him tightly.
“That’s it, Till.” Ivan’s eyes are locked on his face, and his hand wraps around his dick to spread the wetness Till is leaking down his shaft. His hips don’t stop thrusting, but he’s breathing hard and flushed down to his collarbones, and his pupils are dilated so wide the red in his eyes is barely visible. “Come on. I want to hear you cry for me. You can do it.”
It’s so much. Till’s eyes sting, and he thrashes his head left and right as Ivan jerks his cock and pummels into his prostate. He can’t keep himself quiet, and his nails scratch violently against Ivan’s legs, his hips arching up into the touch of his fingers before pushing back onto his cock. It’s so much, he can think of nothing except the way Ivan sounds and smells and looks and feels, and all it takes is for his thumb to brush over the head of his cock and Ivan’s other hand to press deep into his guts to feel himself inside Till for him to finish with a shout that wracks his whole frame.
The world whites out. Till squeezes his eyes shut, and Ivan growls as his hips jerk unsteadily and he spills inside him. It’s hot in a way Till isn’t used to, but it’s good, and he claws at Ivan as it floods his belly.
“Till,” he groans, both of them jerking with the aftershocks of their orgasms, heaving and shaky. Ivan’s hips rock just slightly forward and back, still hard, and the sound it makes is wet and filthy. “ Till, Till, you’re so good. You’re so perfect. So wonderful.”
Ivan slumps forward, elbows folding, and his weight pins Till beneath his body. His legs drop from atop Ivan’s thighs, and his arms wind loosely around his shoulders, clinging to him as Ivan pants into his throat. His lips press chaste kisses against the line of his neck, and Ivan lifts his head to lay another stretch of them on the opposite side when he’s finished.
It takes a full two minutes for their breathing to return to normal. Till’s limbs feel like they’re buzzing with electricity, and he’s sticky and sweaty and hot. Weakly, he shoves at Ivan’s shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.
“Get off,” Till groans, and his voice is garbled from use and the pressure of Ivan against his diaphragm. “You’re fucking heavy.”
Reluctantly, Ivan pushes himself upright, and Till can see his arms trembling. He situates himself on his knees, and his palms follow his gaze down the length of Till’s body.
Somehow, he’s still hard, and Till bites into his cheek as Ivan presses his thumb against his rim like he wants to fit the digit in alongside his cock. He’s sensitive, and Till hisses but doesn’t resist. His own cock is spent, limp against his stomach, but it gives a valiant twitch as Ivan rubs his fingerprint into the muscle.
“You took it so well,” he murmurs, and Till hates himself for the gasp he can’t contain. His hips jerk involuntarily, and Ivan’s eyes snap up to meet his. That hungry look is back in them, and Till has no doubt that he’d eat him alive in this very bed if he let him. “You like being told you did a good job?”
Till swallows, and the way his muscles clench around Ivan’s waning erection is answer enough. He turns his chin away defiantly, face burning, and Ivan’s breathy laugh makes him shiver.
“I’m going to pull out,” he informs, and Till grunts as Ivan folds both his legs back into his chest with broad hands pressed to the backs of his knees. This certainly can’t be necessary, but he doesn’t have the energy to protest, and he slants a look up at Ivan through his bangs to observe his face as he positions Till how he wants him.
There’s an unforgiving spike of heat that stabs Till through the gut as Ivan draws his hips back. He sucks in a harsh breath, scrabbles to get his fingers around Ivan’s wrists, and he throws his head back into the pillow. It feels like ages before Ivan’s cock slips out entirely, and his moan is deep and thundering as he watches his cum leak from Till’s hole.
The hands on his legs vanish suddenly, but solid muscle bumps into place beneath his knees before Till can even think of lowering them. Ivan is bent over between his legs in a blink, wide shoulders carrying the weight of his shaky legs, and Till’s wail is sharp and startled as a hot tongue licks over his rim.
“What the fuck,” he gasps, his hands flying to sink into black hair, trembling. His hips grind down into Ivan’s tongue, his cock aches as it gives another hopeful twitch, and Till keens when Ivan sucks on his tender flesh. His tongue presses into him past his loose ring of muscle, and he licks his cum out of Till like he’ll starve without it all.
“Ivan! Ivan, please,” Till cries, but he’s not sure what he’s asking for. He can’t think, can’t do more than let the pleasure wrack him, and he whines as Ivan’s thick tongue wriggles inside him. His hands clench in Ivan’s hair, insistent fingers grip onto his ass to spread him open more, and an orgasm that produces just a few valiant drops crashes over Till before he can comprehend its onset
He’s not sure how long it lasts, but it feels like it goes on forever. He’s too sensitive when it ends, and Till smacks his palms into the crown of Ivan’s head, rasping, “No more.”
Ivan lifts his head from between Till’s thighs, and the whole bottom half of his face shines from his own saliva. He looks incredibly pleased with himself, and he smirks as he licks over his teeth. Till should kick him, but his legs are too weak to lift them that high, and he lets Ivan lower them to rest against the mattress as he moves from beneath them to lay alongside him.
“You sound incredible,” Ivan praises, and he fits one arm beneath Till’s head to drag him closer, pressing their bodies against one another. He’s hot and sweaty, and Till does not care. “You’re so good, Till. So wonderful. I love you.”
Till feels like his whole body is vibrating. His legs and arms tremble, and he lets Ivan pull him close and arrange them without resistance. His throat feels raw, and his skin is feverish and damp as Ivan’s worshipful touch passes over every part of him.
Several minutes pass, and Till comes down from his high in steps. His eyes close, his heart rate evens out, and Ivan settles beside him with one arm looped over his waist and the other beneath him, their legs tangled loosely. His chest feels light and he wants to sleep, but the mess of lubricant and semen is beginning to dry on his skin, and it’s getting itchy.
“I need to shower,” Till manages, and Ivan hums in agreement, his lips pressing a soft kiss against his temple.
“I’ll come with you,” he murmurs, but he makes no move to rise until Till does, reluctant to let him go.
Till’s legs tremble when he stands, and his hips feel weak. He can feel the ghost of Ivan’s cock inside him, he’s loose and stretched and sticky, and it makes Till feel like he can’t breathe when he thinks too hard about it. It doesn’t hurt, though, and Ivan’s hand is warm and familiar on his lower back as they traipse into the humble bathroom in their bedroom.
They’re both quiet in the shower. It’s a remarkable feat for Ivan to be silent for so long, but he occupies himself with washing Till’s hair and rubbing soap over every square inch of his body before scrubbing it off himself. Till feels like he could doze off against his chest if he stands under the water much longer, and he urges them out to dry themselves once Ivan is finished with his self appointed task.
“Are you alright?” Ivan asks when they’ve crawled back into bed. The blanket is tucked up over Till’s back, and his head rests in the crook of Ivan’s neck. He’s got his arm wrapped around Till’s waist, holding him loosely against his body, and his breathing is steady and soothing.
Till hums in affirmation, and his fingers rub absentmindedly over the scar on Ivan’s rib. It’s small and rough, almost a perfect circle, one of three he wears with pride.
“Tired,” Till murmurs, and he shuts his eyes as he counts out the steady thump of Ivan’s heartbeat. He’s solid against him, warm and alive, and Till squeezes around his middle. “But good. Doesn’t hurt.”
Ivan makes a pleased noise, and he presses a kiss into Till’s hair. His fingertips rub across the skin of Till’s midsection, and he presses them into his hip where bruises have begun to color his flesh. Till is too tired to gasp, but his next exhale puffs out a little heavier than the last, and his hips shift just slightly.
“I won’t be so gentle with you next time. You can take it.” His voice is low with exhaustion, and Till rubs his forehead against Ivan’s throat as the vibration of his speech rumbles over his face and tickles his nose.
“Next time it’ll be you getting fucked,” Till retorts blandly, and Ivan’s hand grips onto him tightly and squeezes around him. He could do anything and Ivan would thank him, and the power of that will never stop amazing Till.
“Please,” Ivan replies earnestly, and Till huffs, the hint of a smile spreading over his mouth. If Ivan couldn’t find his prostate on his own, Till would help him, and he didn’t need a damn diagram to make him beg.
Till’s eyelids are heavy, and he’s relaxed and comfortable in Ivan’s embrace. His mind is quiet, and it’s the first time in months that he feels like he can just breathe.
“Love you,” he murmurs, gracious in his exhaustion, and Ivan squeezes around him again and presses a firm kiss to his temple.
“I love you,” he breathes. Till rubs his cheek into Ivan’s collarbone, exhales slowly. Ivan’s fingers pet through his hair, and it soothes him into sleep, lungs filling with the scent of him and mind full of Ivan’s touch.
Till’s exhale washes across Ivan’s chest. The stars sprinkled across the night sky twinkle outside the window, and Ivan shuts his eyes. They are safe, alive, and free, earned at the price of blood and sacrifice. Ivan will never let him go again, and his embrace remains firm around Till’s scarred frame as exhaustion kisses him goodnight.
A meteor darts across the sky, and Till’s fingers find Ivan’s in sleep. They hold on until morning and do not let go when he wakes.