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It wasn't uncommon for Till to feel like he was being watched.
Being a teenager, Till had found himself riddled with gut-wrenching anxiety. As a little child, you never expected Till to end up this way. A bright-eyed youth who would go up to other children his age to give them flowers or to compliment their hair— turned sour with heavy eyebags and bouncing his leg as if he were trying to make the floor collapse under his sole.
Don't get him started on his nails. Chipped black nail polish that he bit off during an anxiety attack, and Hello Kitty band-aids (no, he didn't choose these himself; it's all Mom had) are always in his backpack in case he accidentally bites too hard on his nails.
He was already bullied in school for his appearance, which didn't help his case any more. Wearing collars and ripped jeans with fishnets in them as a boy earned you all kinds of unwarranted slurs.
Till didn't bother anybody, but if you said it to his face, he wouldn't take it without a fight. To which he always fucking lost, Till notes with a bitter taste in his mouth.
He expressed to his mother this feeling of being watched many times, and with a concerned heart, Io brought this up to his doctor, but even they told her that it was a symptom of anxiety. And that it was something Till would have to cope with.
So, yes. He dressed weirdly, picked fights, and had an anxiety disorder. Of course, he felt like he was being watched. Till was setting himself up for failure. But deep inside his heart, whenever he turned around, he could swear he saw someone hide just out of sight.
It had been a few weeks now. Till, he discovered, has a stalker. It started slowly. Until it didn't.
There were strange things showing up in his locker from time to time, but not anything Till couldn't write off.
His missing drawing of an anemone? That's fine. Till can be forgetful since his mind is always racing during school hours. He almost failed that semester since that was a part of his final project. But, hey. It was here in his locker all along... great.
He hasn't seen it in two weeks, and the paper has a few crinkles in it as if someone had been tracing the petals. But that's fine. Till's therapist told him not to overthink. Who would even do that? When one of Till's notebooks suddenly appears after a two-day absence, he stares, hard, at it. As if something would jump out and get him if he opened it.
This wasn't a notebook for school. No, this is something he kept at home. Stuffed away in his desk. His therapist told him to write his feelings every day to help keep track of what he feels during his anxiety attacks.
Though, most of these entries are frenzied with multiple lines of "Someone is watching me."
...Along with a sketch of an eye with a point of crimson Till swears is etched into his memory. Despite his never having seen such a thing.
It sends chills down his spine when he finishes sketching out another one of those eyes. It's identical to the last but there's something missing. He's too creeped out to care though.
Seeing this notebook suddenly appear in his locker, he freezes in place, his sweaty hand gripping impossibly tight onto his locker's door. Even as someone bumps into him, he can't move. He feels hot with suspicion but begrudgingly closes the locker once the bell rings. He's late for class. It's probably nothing.
The third time it happens though, his stalker seems to have run out of patience for Till. Even Till can't excuse this with paranoia anymore as he stares at a note on his locker revealing his home address and his mother's phone number with heart-smeared graphite on the bottom.
As if to threaten him and give him a taunting little kiss as the cherry on top. He doesn't stare in shock like he usually does. No, Till rips it up and decides he's probably not safe in school right now. Or was he ever?
When did this stalker start pursuing him to begin with? Surely this obsession started sooner than when they began putting things in his locker. It's the middle of that day when Till holes himself up inside of an empty stall (empty bathroom, might he add, it was the middle of a block period) and calls his Mom.
Waiting for her to pick up seemed like an eternity. Till bit at his nails anxiously, his foot tapping a loud rhythm on the bathroom floor. A song he had stuck in his head. The poor Hello Kitty band aids on his index finger got chewed off, and fell to the floor with abandon as he reopened his previous chewing scars.
However, his cadence is interrupted when someone enters the bathroom. Till's foot stills after listening to footsteps enter the stall next to him.
His mom picks up, her sweet voice picking up on the line. He felt so relieved to hear from her. "Hi, honey! Aren't you supposed to be in music theory?"
Till glanced at the time in the corner of his phone. She was right. He always talked about this class when he got home since it was his favorite and only class he ever paid attention to. In the stall next to him, (he forgot someone was even in here) the toilet flushed loudly and Till winced, pressing his phone closer to his ear.
"Yeah, um," Till starts, scratching the back of his neck where his chained collar began to feel like it was choking him. Another thing that sucked about anxiety. Your throat is closing up. "I'm not feeling good. I.... uh... my period started out of nowhere."
It wasn't fully a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth. But that seemed to be enough because his mother was a worrier. Io let out a sad noise, and if Till was there, he could see her putting her warm hands on the sides of his face. "I'll come pick you up."
"It's okay! I can walk home. I'll be home in a bit."
"Okay! I'll run to the store to get some pain meds for you. Love you so much!" Io tells him, and he can hear her loving smile. Despite his nervousness and fatigue, he smiled too.
"I love you too, Mom. Bye." Till hangs up, and lets his head drop with a sigh. Squeezing his eyes shut, he can feel. His heart is pounding in his chest. Stupid anxiety, stupid low-dose medication that didn't help him, and stupid—
Till's thoughts are dismissed when it's eerily silent in the bathroom. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at the stall next to him. Looks at the clean shoes of the person who is occupying it.
It's weird.
It's almost like they're waiting.
Till swallows dry.
Uneasiness as the seconds ticked by painfully slow. That feeling sits in Till's stomach like a rock as he just stares at those squeaky-clean Vans. Who the fuck keeps their Vans that clean? Must be some model student worlds apart from Till. Who sits in those advanced placement classes and just gets it. Just barely, he can see their blue baggy jeans hanging over their neatly tied laces.
Yes, he was stalling; his thoughts wandering to feed his anxiety. But the longer he waited, it seemed like the person in the stall next to him was waiting twice as long.
Okay. Maybe they were on their phone. Till was just on his, so it makes sense.
Their bathroom stall finally opens, and poor Till flinches, hard, at the sound. It's as loud as a gunshot in his mind, and he has to take a deep breath and put a palm to his racing heart to calm himself down. This stalker bullshit was putting him on such edge.
This will all be fixed when he's home. Till lets his head drop again, and his eyes catch on something bright pink on the floor that definitely wasn't there before. He blinks down at the words on the sticky note.
Look Up :D
Till's tired eyes go from the bathroom floor to above the other stall's wall and his eyes meet another pair, staring down at him with a fixated smile, a familiar snaggletooth hanging from his lips.
Familiar?
"What the fuck?"
"Hi, Till."
They both said at the same time.
Till's eyes went from those familiar (?????????) eyes down to that stall's floor where he saw no shoes. Which meant...
Till gapes, as if he were short-circuiting. He instinctively pressed his back against his stall in fright as he stared up at the towering figure. "Who are— you're standing on the fucking toilet?!"
His voice echoes against the bathroom walls, and Till's eye twitched as that boy didn't let up with his fuckass cute smile. What the fuck was going on. Till's eyes trace the red and white of his arms that hang over the stall, and he can vaguely recognize the varsity jacket that football players wear to represent their school pride. A football player?
Ugh, those were his number one bullies. Always fucking around with him. Although, now that he thinks about it... they haven't been bothering him anymore. Not even sparing a glance his way. It was odd.
"How else am I supposed to look at you?" He replies. As if to emphasize his point, he leans over more, despite his unsteady footing. "You're crying."
"I'm not," Till says, but he is. He can feel hot tears running down his face. Fuck, his eyeliner is going to be ruined. He wipes at it half-heartedly with his striped sleeve. "Please. Just go to class, and leave me alone. This is so fucking weird."
He was too anxious, and he was already starting to hiccup with tears. A headache was already starting to come on. Fuck this severe anxiety disorder. Till picked up his bag and went to open the stall door, but the boy beat him to it and blocked the way out. His head tilted, like Till was the one who blocked him.
"Where are you going? It's rude to leave in the middle of a conversation, Till."
"Don't say my name like you know me."
"But I do know you," Till is informed, but Till shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders in confusion. As if to say, no the fuck you don't. "I can see your name right there."
Till sees him point somewhere on his chest, and he follows the index, only to have his chin be lifted by the taller male with his finger and an annoying smile Till wants to smack off his fuckass face.
"How funny," Till deadpans. "Are you five years old by any chance?"
"Nineteen," The boy supplies, leaning down to match Till's height. A year older than him. With a cocky smile, he adds: "Why didn't you laugh if I'm so funny? I can tell you another joke."
"Dude. Fuck off," Till hissed, irritably. His voice was shaking which betrayed nothing, since he was already crying from the anxiety alone. He already didn't feel safe. And now a football player came to fuck with him?
Till heaved a breath, locking eyes with him. "I found out there's this weird creep stalking me. And now you're being annoying. I can't deal with any more of this. Move."
But the boy just stays planted, arms stretching over his head as he leans on the stall door's frame. His eyes were unrelenting as he stared deep into Till's eyes, holding more meaning than Till's brain could even comprehend. He was waiting. Again.
What the fuck does this guy want from me?! Till thought as his eyes darted to avoid his piercing gaze of black, his teal eyes resting on the name engraved on his team's varsity jacket. Ivan.
"Listen, Ivan," It's Till's first time saying this guy's name and he says it distastefully, as if it put a bitter taste in his mouth. He ignores how Ivan's lips twitch upwards at the sound of Till saying his name for the first time. A crack in his façade? Whatever.
Fuckass football players. He hoped to make himself seem more human to avoid the bullying, some bullshit he learned in a psychology class he didn't pay attention in. "You're freaking me out."
"It took you so long to realize someone was stalking you," Ivan pointed out, as if Till hadn't already made that deduction an hour ago.
Till's brows furrowed at that, and he took a small step back. Did he think Till was stupid? "Well, duh? No one is going to be able to tell with just a few hints."
"Not even when your secret notebook shows up in your locker?"
"Well, that's my..." Till trails off, hit with another wave of nausea as he connects eyes with the boy towering in front of him.
How did he—
Wait, when did Ivan move forward?! Till takes another step backward, almost sent tumbling— but Ivan catches his wrist before he does and pulls him into his space.
And, oh. He's bigger than him. He can feel Ivan's breath against his forehead.
"My Till," Ivan breathed. His hands trailed down his body, over his curvy hips, and down to grab his waist. His hands fit so perfectly. You'd almost think Till was made for Ivan. Till's vision blurred.
"Your wh— oh my god." Till breathlessly laughs. He's going to lose it.
Till never let anyone touch him, so this finally made his ears go hot and tingly with anger. He let go of a breath and pushed his hands against Ivan's chest, shoving him to the side of the stall with a loud bang as Ivan hit the back of his head. He grimaced, eyes going wide.
"Till?"
Escape.
"Till."
He has no idea how Ivan knew about his notebook, or why he was tormenting Till to begin with. But he needs to leave, now. His anxiety is making him feel faint.
Legs. He urged his legs made of lead to move. To run away. Ivan wasn't helping this anxiety. He needed to get home.
Escape.
Big arms close around his chest, and pull him back into the stall. Till's hands grasp at the sides of it, but his strength is nothing against a fucking athlete's as he's pulled flush against Ivan's chest. Shit.
"Let go!" Till yelled out, flailing in his embrace but Ivan just smiled from behind him. He buries his nose into Till's collar and sniffs. He sniffs him deeply, licking his lips in satisfaction. "Stop— stop it, you fucking creep! Stop!"
Ivan sucks in a breath, smile never leaving his face as he licks a strip up Till's neck, tongue sliding over his chained collar. His tongue traced each small chain, interloped around one another before he licked up the shell of his outer ear with gentle precision. "I dreamed about doing this, every night."
"Stop," Till weakly protested, hands pushing at Ivan's arms wrapped firmly around his waist. He didn't even budge. "Ivan, I can't breathe." He tells him. "I can't breathe."
Till's throat contracted and a whimper left him, head drooping with slight arousal as Ivan shallowly thrusted against him. God, what the fuck was wrong with him. "Stop..."
Although Ivan's arms were holding him against his will tightly, his kisses told a different story as he kissed the nape of his neck sweetly. So tenderly, Till's mind was going fuzzy around the edges. Till was sweaty, and hyperventilating, but Ivan made "love" to him all the same, not paying it any mind. "Been waiting so long to have you. Couldn't wait anymore."
Crying, Till tried sucking in air, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he tried to breathe properly through Ivan's groping and his panic attack. "I-I don't even know you."
"You did. No, you will know me. Again. Just like before. We have plenty of time for this," Ivan tells him firmly, as if he's rehearsed this very moment thousands of times. And Till thinks he probably has. And what the fuck was he even talking about? Till also thinks he's gone crazy. Maybe he was born this way. "Just you and me. Nothing will come between us again."
What the hell is he talking about, he panics, This guy is a fucking nutjob. I need to get out of here.
He isn't as tall as Ivan, so he does the next best thing. Slams the back of his head into Ivan's chin. The grip falters slightly, but that's all Till needs to break out of his grasp and run away like a bat out of hell. He doesn't try to pick up his backpack and just books it out of the bathrooms, slamming the door shut behind him and his legs move.
Run. Run. Run.
He's halfway down the hallway when he hears the bathroom door slam back open, and he cranes his neck to see Ivan, leaning against the door, fingertips on his chin. There isn't a single readable emotion on his face. All Ivan does is smile wordlessly at him, before sprinting after him.
Till's eyes widen and he lets out an involuntary wail, the full weight of fear dawning on him. He was crazy. He was being chased by a fucking creep! Bursting through the school doors, he makes a run for the nearest exit, before turning his head to see Ivan gone. Till running out of stamina already—
He's hidden from tons of bullies, so his eyes immediately caught sight of some bushes pressed against a building. Bingo.
Till darted toward them, diving behind them to sit down and curl up to hide himself further. His breaths were shallow, his palm pressed to his heart as his legs burned. He was already exhausted, sweat lining the back of his neck. Fuck, he was out of shape. This is why he had P.E. dropped.
Ivan ran out of the building he had just come from, and stopped in the middle of the area, looking this way and that, and squinted in a direction before he took of sprinting again. God, he is fast. I guess that's what being a fit football player will do for you, Till thinks before he slowly emerges. He's still not in the clear, he didn't see where Ivan ran off to but he needs to get away from this school fast.
Till's legs feel like putty by the time he's a good mile from the school, and his hand holds onto the side of a building as he dips into an alleyway he takes to get home. It's always quiet here, so he takes a moment to take a well-needed break and a breath.
And there's one right against his ear.
"Shit!" Till gasps, going to turn, but he's already being shoved against the concrete, a hand smushing his face down against it. With a muffled cry, he kicks his legs. A heavy weight of legs pins them.
"Help! Someone, help—!"
"Shut up if you know what's good for you."
Till's cries went muffled as a hand clasped over his mouth. Not even his mewls of discomfort, having his arm twisted against his back, slipped through those big calloused hands of his. He could feel Ivan wrapping rope around his thin wrists and if you thought he was going down without a fight, you'd be sorely mistaken.
But if Till's kicks and squirms bothered Ivan, he didn't voice it. His eyes twitched in frustration but he never relented. In any case, he doubled his efforts to perfectly tie the rope and secure Till's hands behind his back.
Flipping him onto his stomach with such ease that it made him feel sick.
He could feel himself involuntarily arching into the touch, that Ivan had no problem running a calculated hand down his clothed cunt. His hand came back seeping wet. A mix of blood with arousal. Slut.
"You ran away so fast." Ivan chuckled deeply, and Till just cried in response. "Or, not ran. You hid. Hid in those little bushes thinking you were so clever, right? I didn't have time to use chloroform since I was so busy letting you think you've won."
Just the thought of Ivan pressing cloth to his nose and Till struggling in vain as he went limp in his arms was enough to leave him breathless, tears choking him up. "Till, you look so pretty when you're tied up. Like an angel."
Ivan leaned down, his head touching the pavement. Their eyes locked. Till has seen those eyes before, he swears on his life. Those eyes are something he could never forget. But where has he seen them before? His brain cramps just from trying to figure it out. So Till's eyes shut tight, tears leaking from the corners.
Ivan just smiled at him, not seeming to mind if Till looked at him or not. All that mattered was that Till was here with him. That's all he seemed to want. He caressed Till's face despite his whimper of fear, nuzzling against his sweaty forehead.
"And you know what? I'm so happy right now. I didn't know I could ever feel so happy in my whole life, Till."
"...You're fucked," Till spat at him, as he choked on a sob. He couldn't resist anymore as Ivan pulled his legs up to peel off his pants. Till should be disgusted. Yet there was a heat that settled in his lower belly as Ivan's fingers skimmed along the curve of his pussy. "Don't, please. I'm on my period."
"It's okay," Ivan murmurs, as if soothing a scared animal. He pins Till to the asphalt with an arm, and his hair falls over his concentrated face as he softly presses down on Till's clit. Till whines unexpectedly, flinching up into the pressure of his thumb as Ivan pinches him between his fingers.
Why does it feel so good? Fuck. Till subconsciously wanted to numb the anxiety with pleasure.
Ivan kisses his cheek, pulling away to stare at his ruined face, eyeliner trailing down with his tears. He catches a new tear rolling down Till's face with his tongue. He swallows it. "I've got you now."
It doesn't calm Till down the way it was intended to. When Ivan says that, Till's stomach twists with fright. This is really happening, he thought. Ivan tied Till up, and now he's touching him like he's some great catch. Till doesn't like where this is going. Ivan's got him now.
He doesn't have time to ruminate on that thought as Ivan quite literally rips his boxers apart with effort. Till tries to scream and squirm, but a firm hand rests on the back of his thigh, gripping hard enough to bruise.
Ivan's eyes meet his, hazardous and laced with poison. A warning.
Till gulps and sniffles, biting down on his lip with a nod as Ivan sweetly smiles at him. "You're so good for me. You know that, Till?" Ivan says, kissing the inside of his thigh.
"Off... get off!" Till yells, and Ivan slaps him.
Till stares at him in disbelief, the burn of the palm to his cheek making him cry even more. He's such a fucking crybaby. He curses himself silently but obeys, the submissiveness ruling his body until it goes numb.
"You're mine," Ivan declares, kissing the skin of his inner thigh like he owns it. He licks it, like it's the sweetest treat he's ever tasted. Bites down, hard on it, as if he were biting into a forbidden fruit. "You've always been mine, Till. Even back then. So be quiet and be good for me, okay?"
"Ivan," Till still whined helplessly, losing all fight that was left in his body. He gets butterflies in his tummy when Ivan's snaggletooth runs over his labia. "Ivan, I'm on my period..."
"So?" To prove his point, Ivan kisses his pretty hole, covered with blood. Licks his lips, as if he were savoring a sweet drink.
Till's head falls on the pavement, brain frying from disarray, distress, and delight. The ropes around his wrists sting so good, and his eyes blur as a mixture of colors obstructs his vision. What was happening anymore?
"Ivaann..." He's so brainfucked he doesn't even know why he called Ivan's name, but Ivan seems to make meaning for it.
Something's pressed against his entrance and begins to force itself inside, and that's enough to make Till's head rise with a start as Ivan’s cockhead pushed past the tight string of muscle inside of him. Till let out a strangled cry of pain, thighs shaking underneath Ivan's grasp. Ivan bit down on his lip, eyes squeezed shut as he pushed himself further inside Till's warmth. "Tight," He uttered. "So tight."
"No..." He groaned, wincing at the sound of his wetness squelching as Ivan bottomed out inside of him. He could feel Ivan. Clenching around him without a second thought. He felt so full. "Get..."
But he doesn't finish that sentence because their eyes lock and Till feels fear again. He doesn't want to get slapped, and there's something scary in Ivan's eyes. So he swallows his words. Ivan looks down at him. It's downright bone-chilling the way he's staring. Like a predator facing its prey. "You're so cute when you're scared."
"I'm not," Till sniffles.
"Are too," Ivan refutes, and leans down as if he were about to tell him a secret. "Did you know? You clench around me so hard when you're scared."
Till gasped, wrists rubbing together to try and free himself but Ivan thrusted shallowly into him, and he let out a moan of pain. It felt so weird having something inside of him so suddenly. "Nnggh—"
"Till," Ivan called, and Till's glossy eyes caught his. He bent over him, their breath mingling together as Ivan brushed his lips against his. Till ripped his face away in defiance. "Till."
Ivan's gaze hardened, and he grabbed Till's face harshly, earning a wail from the boy underneath him. He ran a thumb across his cheek, smearing the tears and eyeliner across his pale skin, turned red from the exhaustion and fighting.
"Can you feel me?" Ivan asked, his gaze tracing Till's body. As if he were taking all of him in. "Right here."
Both of Ivan's hands came to rest where he was bulging in Till's soft stomach, kneading the skin there for a second like a cat, before pressing down hard.
"Anghh— ah— Ivan, stop—" Till squirmed, his body twisting this way and that to escape the sensation he felt bubbling inside of him. Ivan licked his lips, leaning over him again to press deeper inside, Till's blood coating his pubic hair as he tucked himself inside, like he belonged there.
"How can I stop now when you're sucking me even deeper? You're so cruel, Till."
And he begins pulling out. Till panics. He knows what's coming.
"I-Ivan..."
"Mn?" He hums, that smug smile on his face beginning to shake as he keeps his head pressed against Till's entrance, letting it tease and poke through but not quite enter. The sick fuck let the blood coat his thumb, smearing it on Till's thigh with a small smile. Sick. Fuck.
Ivan moves and toys with Till's bloodied clit as he waits for the boy underneath him to pull himself together enough to form a coherent sentence.
"Please... at least, a condom," Till finally gets out, eyebrows upturned with effort. He could barely see in front of him, or anything anymore. He had tears running down his face nonstop.
But Ivan just giggles, pressing his forehead against Till's. "I'm forcing myself on you, and the first thing you're worried about is a condom? You're so adorable."
Till slowly blinks up at him, drool running down his chin along with the tears. He blinks again, and nods, as if he just processed Ivan's words amongst the hazy pleasure of having his clitoris played with. "P-please?"
Ivan seems to consider, his head tilting to the side as his eyes soak in Till's features. He runs his free hand over Till's cheeks again. And then down to his stomach, which he seems to be a bit too obsessed with. He begins kneading the skin there absentmindedly.
"But... what if I want to get you pregnant?"
Till chokes, a cough sputtering in his throat as Ivan pushes inside of him again. It's not like he can stop Ivan anyway as he begins pounding inside of him so deep and so relentlessly, the sounds of their bodies, a connecting echo through the alleyway, blending with the sounds of passing cars.
"I want to see you round with my children. I'll take such good care of you." Ivan keeps talking, nuzzling against him deliriously. "I already... ah... have a few names picked out."
Moans are forced out of Till's mouth as Ivan finds a place at his throat, just beneath his earlobe and latches on, sucking like his life depended on it. "Oh my god," Ivan breathed, right over him. "Till, you feel so, so good."
"Unn..." Till groaned in agreement, toes curling with satisfaction as Ivan continued rolling his hips, testing just how deep he could go with each try. Till felt him so deep inside, hitting him in all the right angles as he sucked hickeys into his throat. It's going to bruise, Till thought. Please never fade.
Ivan's hips never stopped nor faltered, like he was here to teach Till he couldn't live without being fucked by Ivan anymore.
And Till was beginning to believe him. He felt so good being fucked by him, his eyes squeezed shut to ride on the feeling. His mouth fell open with every moan, and Ivan breathed heavily as he chased his lips, trapping him in a kiss.
Their teeth clanked together as Ivan moved his cock in and out of his cunt, Ivan licking and sucking Till's tongue with each deep thrust inside of him. Enjoying the way Till's walls clenched around him, keeping him inside. Till moaned into his mouth, the heat in his stomach rising with every lick.
"Ivan—" Till cried out, at a particular rough thrust. Ivan paused his assault to shimmy his hips back and lean over him to thrust in that exact spot again. And again. And again. "Ah, ah, ah!"
And he's coming, white exploding in his vision as his body tenses. Ivan fucks him through it, the pressure of his dick rearranging and molding his insides to his length spurring him on further as he came around him.
"Fuck, Till," Ivan cursed with a grin, letting out a sweet moan that Till guiltily enjoyed. "Ah... you're clenching around me so tightly. You want me to get you pregnant, don't you?"
Till shakes his head, and yelps when Ivan suddenly pulls him up from the ground, his legs wrapping around Ivan's waist as he sheathes even deeper inside of him. "Ivan, hhngh—"
Till's head falls onto Ivan's shoulder, drooling all over him, but Ivan doesn't mind. He thrusts upwards, letting out a deep moan that reverberated in Till's ear. "Hah... I'm not gonna last long like this."
"N-No," Till squeaks, leaning back to try and struggle away from him, but his hips moving so sporadically made Ivan's cock kiss his insides all over. Till squeals at the sensation as his clit rubbed against Ivan's stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Ivan grins at him, kissing the hickeys on his neck so gently, while fucking him so hard he saw stars. He's going to come again, he can already feel it in his stomach. Ivan's close too, Till can feel his hot breath against his chest. His snaggletooth bobs against him, threatening to pierce his skin every time Till bounced up on his cock, and back down like he belonged speared on his dick.
"Till, 'm gonna come." Ivan whimpers into his chest, hands holding him down as his hips thrusted wildly inside of him. "Gonna breed you, gonna make you... nnhh... feel so good..."
"D-Don't, please. N-Not... not inside!"
But they were both too far gone, pleasure overriding their brains. Till shook his head, feeling his climax imminent. And with nowhere to go, he cried out loudly, smashing his lips into Ivan's with nothing else to do but come with him, feeling Ivan's cum spill into him with rough thrusts, his high crashing on as Ivan fucked his cum deep into his womb.
He was really trying. Holy shit. He wasn't joking. And Till is lightheaded as fuck. Till slumped over, passing out in Ivan's embrace, his body heat radiating towards Ivan's own, cold body. Ivan stayed inside of him for a few seconds more, before gently setting him back down on the pavement. He pulled out, spreading Till open to admire how his cum spilled out of his pussy.
Letting out a satisfied sigh, heartstrung as he leaned over Till to kiss his sweaty forehead. "My sweet Till."