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Till is trying to focus on studying, emphasis on the word trying. Each time he brings his pen to paper, a whiny voice calls his name for some increasingly asinine reason.
"Till, I'm stuck on this problem."
Till looks over and Ivan already has it entirely completed and his work is impeccable. When Till calls him out on it, Ivan merely claims that he wanted to check his work.
"Till, Till, Till! Answer meeee."
This one is paired with Ivan shaking Till's arm and when he finally removes his earbud and looks at Ivan with an unimpressed glare, all Ivan does is giggle.
Till wishes he could say his only problem in life was dealing with a whiny brat when he had things to do, but it isn't that simple. No, because he also has to deal with Ivan and his lackeys, the football team, harassing him nonstop. Their insults vary by the day. His clothes, his makeup, the music he listens to, the simple fact that he fucking draws, it doesn't matter, they always find something to tease him over.
It's not like their words really mean anything. Till would never even think of changing who he is to fit into society or to appease some fucking meathead jocks. They haven't escalated to anything physical, yet. Till doesn't have complete faith that it wouldn't escalate to that at some point. To make this whole thing more troublesome, the ring leader, Ivan himself, seems to have a particularly vested interest in Till.
Till isn't stupid, he knows the stereotypes of high school and society as a whole, hell he is one. So when he started embracing the urge to dress more alternatively, he knew he'd face some repercussions. He can deal with the teasing, he could even probably deal with a few fights, more than willing to hold his own against them. What he can't deal with is Ivan.
Ivan is insufferable. In all honesty, Ivan doesn't really tease him when he's with his teammates. He's more of an observer, a bystander, not intervening one way or another.
With Till, though, Ivan is bratty, desperate for his attention in any form. If he was anyone else, Till might even think it's cute, but this is Ivan and Ivan is most definitely not cute. Sure he may be handsome, built, charming, but he's Till's sworn enemy. They could never even be friends so there's no way Till could ever possibly think Ivan was cute.
Till doesn't hate Ivan because he's mean to him. Sure, Ivan is annoying, he steals Till's shit only to give it back the next day, he teases Till, but not in the same way the other assholes do. He does it almost like it's some inside joke just between the two of them, well, more like it's a joke only Ivan is in on because Till isn't laughing nor does he understand any of it.
But above all else, the thing about Ivan that Till hates more than anything is how fucking fake he is. His smiles never reach his eyes, his manners are so forced it almost pains him to see them, he doesn't even think Ivan likes football if his bored expression during games and practices are anything to go off of. Everything Ivan does is done to preserve his perfectly crafted mask. If Ivan were to let it fall for even a moment, perhaps Till could tolerate the person underneath it.
All this to say, Till cannot stand Ivan in the slightest and the universe must really want to spite him today because they are paired together to run some errands for a professor. It's nothing major, deliver some things around campus and they get out of class. The only downside, Till has to spend the next hour alone with Ivan and that is something he would rather eat glass than do.
Of course Ivan, the insufferable asshole and teacher's pet, agrees for the both of them all while grinning like an idiot. Till can only roll his eyes as he follows Ivan out of the room with the items they need to deliver.
It's bearable at first, but only because for the first five minutes, Ivan, miraculously, doesn't speak, but after their first stop, Ivan decides Till has warmed up enough to bother him.
"So why do you dress like that?" Ivan asks, a cheeky grin on his face.
Till scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Like what? Like I have fucking style?"
Ivan giggles, shaking his head. "No, like you're going to a funeral."
"Man, fuck you!" Till spits, spinning on his heel and grabbing Ivan by the collar.
It's stupid, really, Ivan is huge, built from long hours in the gym and practice, he could put Till on his ass without even breaking a sweat. For some inexplicable reason, Ivan's expression morphs, his pupils dilating and cheeks flushing. It's such a drastic change that Till decides something must be wrong with Ivan and drops his shirt.
"You're so fucking weird," Till scoffs, grabbing the box he dropped and beginning to walk again. "Where next?"
"Oh, the library. You know the big building with books that you've probably never been in?" Ivan snickers and Till feels his temper flare anew.
"I know what the fucking library is, you dickhead. I do study, not all of us have rich daddies who fund our tuition and need to work our asses off to be here."
"My apologies, I didn't know you were such a scholar," Ivan teases and Till is so tempted to punch him right in his stupidly handsome face, but he doesn't want to get in trouble with the disciplinary committee over someone as insignificant as Ivan.
They drop the books off at the library and have one more stop, all the way across campus. Till is beginning to think they didn't get that good of a deal out of this, after all. They make their way to the final building and Ivan behaves for the most part, only making a few snide comments that Till is mostly able to ignore.
Finally, Till speaks up about something that's been bothering him. "What's your deal anyway?"
Ivan hums, tilting his head to the side. "I don't know what you mean, Till. I think I'm pretty transparent."
"No, what you are is fucking fake. Your smile, your whole fucking personality, none of it is real."
Ivan sets the box he is carrying down on a shelf and nods to the girl at the desk. "That was our last delivery, I think we're free now."
Great, so he's going to ignore it, Till thinks to himself. No, he isn't letting Ivan off the hook so easily. He grabs Ivan's wrist and forces him to stop walking. Ivan's eyes dart down to where Till's fingers are wrapped around his wrist.
"I asked you a question, Ivan," Till reiterates, his voice betraying his clear agitation.
"And I chose not to answer. Is that a problem?" Ivan replies, looking up to meet Till's gaze.
"Yeah, it fucking is. Because you got to ask me whatever the fuck you wanted and the one time I ask you something, you dodge it."
"If you want me to answer a question so badly, pick something else."
"Fine," Till sighs, raking his hand through his hair. "Why are you so weird with me? I mean you're relentless, always picking on me, stealing my shit. I deal with a lot of shit from people, but no one is as bad as you."
Ivan cocks his head to the side, seemingly considering how to answer that question. "Well, isn't it obvious? Because you're so reactive, it's entertaining."
Till's blood boils in rage at that and he pulls Ivan into a storage closet, locking the door behind them. He'd dealt with enough of this jock's shit for one day and he needed to take his frustration out. He'd only hit him once, it would be enough.
Till turns back towards Ivan, readying himself when Ivan's expression catches him off guard. It's the same one as earlier: the dilated pupils, the flushed cheeks, except this time, Ivan's eyes are lidded and his breathing is a bit ragged. Till drops his hand and unclenches his fist, his rage being replaced by confusion.
"What kind of reaction is that? Are you like having a panic attack?"
Ivan shakes his head, taking a step closer to Till. "I've wanted you to react like this for so long, I've been dying for you to notice me and want me like this."
Till's eyes go wide and he struggles to find the right words to answer that. "What are you talking about? You wanted me to hit you?"
"No, I wanted you to fuck me, that is what you're going to do, right?" Ivan asks, sounding a bit breathless and a lot hopeful.
Till's jaw drops and for a solid few moments, nothing comes to his mind. Finally, he shakes his head. "No, Ivan, I'm not."
Ivan looks defeated, a pout forming on his lips as his brows furrow in discontent. "Oh, I just thought when you pulled me in here that that was what you wanted."
Till scoffs. "Ivan, I was gonna fucking hit you because you're so infuriating, not fuck you. Jesus, why would I do that?"
Ivan's face falls even more. "You're right, I'm sure it's an unsavory thought. Why would you ever want to be with someone as disgusting as me."
Till is stunned silent. Ivan can't be serious, can he? He really thinks Till is saying no because Ivan's disgusting? Who even put that thought in his head? For some unknown reason, Till feels his temper flare anew, angry at whoever planted this nonsense in Ivan's head.
"Ivan, no, that's not—" Till starts, but is cut off.
"It's fine, Till. You don't have to explain yourself, I'm worthless and no one in their right mind would want me," as he speaks, Ivan's expression can only be described as a grimace. He looks on the verge of tears and it makes Till's heart ache.
"Ivan, just—"
"I just wanted your attention. I've wanted you in any way for so long, that I thought even if it was bad attention, at least you were thinking of me. I was just so happy that you were looking at me that I didn't care that I was bothering you."
Till thinks Ivan could go on for hours if he's left uninterrupted so Till does the only thing he can think of and slams Ivan against the wall. Ivan's eyes go wide and he looks shocked, but there's something else there, a hint of arousal and desperation simmering beneath the surface.
"Ivan, shut the fuck up. You're really pissing me off."
Ivan opens his mouth to speak, but Till silences him with an icy glare. Till is pretty sure he hears Ivan whine softly, but he can't be certain.
"You're not disgusting, you're not worthless. You are an emotionally stunted prick who needs to learn how to express his desires in a normal fucking manner, but you are not a bad person nor are you any less deserving of love than anyone else."
Till sighs, running a hand through his hair. He regards Ivan with a tired expression. So many things were going through his mind. He couldn't stand this guy, but yet Ivan was just trying to get his attention, pulling his metaphorical pigtails. Ivan's exhausting, but Till's anger has petered out and morphed into something else, something he can barely understand.
Ivan is objectively good looking. It's one of Till's many qualms about the jock. He doesn't understand how Ivan had been blessed with good looks, money, brains, and athleticism. It wasn't fair, but now that Till has Ivan up close and really looks at him for the first time, he notices just how attractive the jock is.
He's got long lashes that frame his dark eyes. Till used to think they were creepy, but up close he can see how pretty they are: big and dark, almost doe-like and with Ivan's dilated pupils he can see the red in them clearly. His eyes travel lower, taking in the slope of Ivan's nose, his full lips, his fang that sticks out on one side, the only minor imperfection on an otherwise perfect face.
Then there's the matter of Ivan's body. His broad shoulders, plush chest, and narrow waist. Till feels his fingers twitch with the desire to touch.
"God, you're so fucking annoying. You've been making my life a living hell all year and for what? Some dick?"
Ivan chews his lip, eyes sliding to the floor. "I just wanted you to pay attention to me, Till. I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it, Ivan. You and your friends make fun of me for everything. Imagine if they saw you now, practically begging the loser you all make fun of to fuck you."
Till gets an idea, it's sick and it's twisted, but he wanted to embarrass Ivan, to make him squirm. He puts a hand on Ivan's shoulder and presses down.
"On your knees. You want me so bad, I'll let you suck me off, but only if I can take pictures to show all your lame friends."
Ivan's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "No, Till, you can't."
"Why? You embarrassed to be seen with me? To be seen wanting me?"
Ivan blinks and a blush creeps over his cheekbones. Till hates that he thinks it's cute.
"No," Ivan says finally after a beat of pregnant silence. "I'm not."
"Good," Till says, pushing down on Ivan's shoulder with a bit more pressure. "On your knees then."
To his surprise, Ivan complies, sinking to his knees in front of Till. All he can do is smirk and pull out his phone, opening his camera. He starts recording a video and presses his fingers to Ivan's lips.
"Open up, Ivan. You normally never shut your stupid mouth."
Ivan's mouth lolls open and his eyes glaze over in want. Till presses two fingers down on his tongue and Ivan closes his mouth around them, sucking and holding eye contact with the camera.
Till's cock twitches in his pants at the sight. Ivan looked so pretty like this, obedient and pliant for once, all his confidence stripped away.
"That's a good boy, Ivan. You want the real thing?"
Ivan whines around his fingers and Till curses under his breath, quickly withdrawing them and taking his cock out of his jeans. It's a bit hard with one hand, but he manages, only fumbling a few times. When he finally frees his cock of its confines, he strokes it slowly a few times as Ivan watches hungrily, practically drooling on himself.
Till can't help but scoff at his reaction, rubbing the head of his cock over Ivan's parted lips. "You look like a whore right now, Ivan. What would your friends think?"
Ivan doesn't respond, just opens his mouth wider and takes the head into his mouth, gazing up at Till as he does it. His eyes are so full of want and desire, clear desperation, that it makes Till's cock twitch in Ivan's mouth.
He's never actually been blown before and so far, it's as good as all the hype would have you believe. Ivan's mouth is hot and wet, his tongue teasing over the slit as he sinks lower. And he keeps fucking looking at Till, almost like he wants to be praised.
Till hates him. Hates how good this feels. Hates how much he's starting to actually want Ivan for some inexplicable reason. Without all the bullshit, Ivan is, admittedly, kind of adorable. He's become so pliant and docile, eager to please. Till doesn't know how long this will last, but he's going to take advantage of it while he can.
He rocks his hips forward, thrusting the rest of his length down Ivan's throat and Ivan makes a choked noise, his throat spasming around Till's cock and the pressure is almost enough to make him cum. He doesn't, though, that would be embarrassing and he's done letting Ivan embarrass him.
He threads his fingers through Ivan's hair, keeping the camera trained on his face, recording the way his cock slides in and out of his mouth as he forces Ivan's head up and down by his hair. Ivan moans, utterly blissed out, and his eyes flutter shut, seemingly thrilled to have his face fucked in a storage closet on some random Tuesday.
"Fuck, feels so—ngh—good, Ivan. You take me so well."
He continues to thrust into the jock's mouth, the camera catching the slick sounds of his cock and Ivan gulping around his length. It's too good, too much, he's going to cum.
"Ivan, wait, fuck, I'm close," Till warns, trying to pry Ivan off his dick.
Ivan's eyes grow hazier still and he doubles his efforts, bobbing his head faster and sucking harder, seemingly hell-bent on making Till cum. It doesn't take long, he feels heat prickle up his spine and pool low in his gut. With one final, shallow thrust, he cums down Ivan's throat with a groan.
Ivan happily swallows around Till's cock, greedily swallowing every drop of his spend and Till can only groan. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to show Till, and the camera, that he swallowed it all.
"Ivan, shit," Till groans, stopping the recording. He moves to put his phone away when he notices the bulge in Ivan's pants. "Are you seriously fucking hard right now?"
"Yes," Ivan answers immediately, not looking the slightest bit ashamed.
Till sighs tiredly. "I'm not sucking your dick, don't even think about it."
"I wouldn't dream of it, well, actually I have, but normally in my dreams you're fucking me."
Till splutters, his jaw dropping in disbelief. "Do you not have any fucking shame, Ivan?"
Ivan smiles, shaking his head. "Not when it comes to you."
Till huffs, feeling his annoyance bubble up again, alongside a cloying sense of arousal he wishes he could ignore. He roughly grabs the collar of Ivan's jacket and pulls him to his feet.
"We're done. No one knows about this and you leave me alone. Do you understand?"
Ivan blinks and a look of disappointment crosses his features. Eventually he nods in understanding, not saying anything.
"I'm leaving."
Till unlocks the door and is about to open it, but turns his head. Ivan is just standing there, staring at the floor. Till can't help but feel a little bad.
"I won't…I'm not gonna show anyone the video, so don't worry about it, I can delete it if you want."
"Hmm?" Ivan looks at him and smiles. Till can tell immediately that it's forced. "Oh, you can keep it. If you want."
Till rolls his eyes and sighs. "Why are you standing there all dejected? Didn't you get what you wanted?"
"Not really," Ivan mutters, kicking the floor, a pout on his lips.
Till has the sudden, uncontrollable urge to kiss it off his face. He shakes his head to dispel the thought, but flips the lock back in place and walks towards Ivan. Ivan looks up and stares at Till, brows raised in confusion.
"You want me that bad? Want me to fuck you stupid?"
Ivan's eyes widen and his cheeks flush, then he nods his head sheepishly. Till hums, his eyes trailing toward the back of the closet where a spare desk has been placed along the wall. He nods his head towards it.
"Fine, pants off, bend over. I'll give you what you want."
This is quite possibly the worst idea Till has ever had in life. He hates Ivan, he makes Till's life a living hell, but maybe if he got some dick he would finally be tolerable. Ivan's own eyes follow Till's and widen, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.
All Till does is raise a sharp eyebrow and place a hand between Ivan's shoulders, giving him a gentle push towards the desk.
"You're the one who asked for it, if you don't want it anymore…"
Ivan's eyes go wide in fear at the threat and he frantically shakes his head, moving quickly towards the desk in the back. He wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down, arching his back over the desk.
Till thinks his nose might actually start bleeding at the sight. It's sinful, Ivan's ass is perky and round, his thighs thick from all the exercise he does daily. Till is torn between wanting to smack Ivan's ass and bite his thighs, maybe he'll do both.
When Till doesn't immediately move, Ivan peers over his shoulder almost expectantly. His dark eyes are lidded, pupils blown out and his cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink. Whatever useless restraint Till was holding onto crumbles almost instantly and he staggers forward, already reaching into his pants and pulling out his cock once more.
He's still sensitive from the orgasm, but he ignores the way his body tries to shudder and strokes his cock slowly until it's hard once more. Ivan watches hungrily, licking his lips and swallowing audibly.
"Have you ever done this? Do you know what you're supposed to do?" Ivan asks in a small voice.
Till nods. He hasn't done this, but he knows what he's supposed to do, more or less. He sticks his fingers into his mouth and sucks them, covering his fingers in a thick coat of saliva. Till withdraws them with a pop and he swears he can see Ivan drool.
Tentatively, he brings his fingers down to tease along Ivan's twitching hole. Till is a bit fascinated by Ivan's reactions: the way his breath hitches at the slightest touch, the way his hips twitch almost as if he's trying to encourage Till to go faster. It works and Till slowly sinks one finger in to the first knuckle making Ivan whine. It's a desperate noise, one he never even knew Ivan was capable of making and it causes Till's dick to stir.
He swallows and sinks his finger in further. "That's a pretty noise, Ivan."
Till's finger in completely inside and this is a foreign feeling. Ivan's so warm and tight, clenching around him, it almost makes him lose his mind. He can't imagine how good Ivan's twitching walls would feel around his cock.
With a shaky inhale, he begins to move his finger experimentally, slowly at first, testing the waters. Ivan responds beautifully. His breathing has become labored, mewls and moans spilling freely from his parted lips. It makes Till feel a bit drunk to know that he did this to Ivan.
One finger becomes two and soon he's spreading them out, trying to open Ivan up. He's almost entirely forgotten his rage, so captivated by just how submissive Ivan has become for him. It's an addictive sight, Ivan is so pretty like this.
"Good boy," Till murmurs, crooking his fingers inside of Ivan. Ivan makes a choked noise of pleasure and Till can feel him clench around him even harder. "One more I think, then I'll fuck you."
"You—hah—think?" Ivan is trying to piss him off, but Till is hardly phased, not when Ivan sounds so debauched from his fingers alone. "Right—mnnn—right there, Till, please."
Ivan rocks his hips back to press Till's fingers against that spot and Till fucking lets him, watching in astonishment as Ivan fucks himself on his fingers. It's maddening, Till thinks he must've died and he's not sure if this is heaven or hell.
"Fuck, can't wait anymore," Till grumbles, grabbing Ivan by the hip to still him and withdraw his fingers. Ivan whines petulantly, but Till silences him with a glare. "Relax, Ivan, I'm just giving you what you wanted."
That shuts Ivan right up and he nods his head enthusiastically, arching his back and sticking his ass out more. "Please, I'm ready, I want it, want you, please, Till."
Till curses under his breath and spits into his palm, coating his cock in his saliva. It's a poor excuse for lube and this is probably going to hurt Ivan at least a little, but he hopes his apparent enthusiasm numbs the pain.
Slowly, he rubs the head of his cock over Ivan's hole and Ivan whimpers, grinding his hips back to get Till inside of him. "Be patient," he scolds and Ivan merely whines, stilling himself.
Till takes a grounding breath and eases in. It's immediately overwhelming. Ivan is so tight, so warm, he can't help but moan loudly, burying his face against Ivan's back as he rocks shallowly inside of him.
"Fuck, feels good," Till moans. He can feel Ivan shudder against his chest and against all better judgement Till presses a comforting kiss to his shoulder to soothe him. "It's okay, I'll go slowly."
He eases in and with each inch, Ivan moans wantonly, his knuckles turning white from the grip he has on the desk in front of him. Till hates that he thinks Ivan is cute like this. The thought pisses him off enough that he thrusts forward harshly, bottoming out and Ivan cries out, eyes going wide.
Till thinks he may have cum based on how hard Ivan clenched around him when he did that, but he doesn't care, he isn't stopping. He starts fucking into Ivan harshly, the sounds of skin-on-skin and Ivan's never ending noises of pleasure deafeningly loud in the small room.
Till thinks he should tell Ivan to be quiet, but he wants to hear him, wants everyone to hear him, to know Till makes Ivan feel this good, that he strips him of that perfect persona and leaves him broken down and vulnerable.
"Fuck, so good for me, feels so good, I'm—oh fuck—Ivan, I think I'm close," Till says through grit teeth, his movements growing sloppy.
Ivan whines again, rocking his hips back to meet Till's movements and help him reach his climax. "Please, Till, I-I want it, need it. Please."
He never thought he'd have Ivan begging him for anything, especially not this, but he feels compelled to give it to him. He thrusts sloppily a few more times and suddenly becomes transfixed on Ivan's lips. They're full and plush, parted around a breathy moan and Till becomes obsessed with what they might feel like pressed against his own.
It's nonsensical, he shouldn't kiss Ivan. He shouldn't want to, but before he knows what he's doing, he's grabbing Ivan's face and tilting it back towards him, crashing their lips together. Ivan makes a surprised noise against Till's mouth, but Till silences it with a swipe of his tongue and Ivan melts immediately. Till plants his other hand against Ivan's stomach to keep him upright and tilts his head, deepening the kiss.
This was dangerous. He shouldn't be doing any of this, but he should absolutely not be kissing Ivan. Worst of all, he shouldn't be enjoying kissing Ivan, but yet, he is. Immensely so. He grinds his hips against Ivan's ass, teetering dangerously close to the edge. He draws his hips back and thrusts in one final time, cumming with a moan that Ivan eagerly swallows.
Ivan whimpers against Till's mouth, licking along his teeth, his tongue, all while he continues to grind his hips languidly against Till's cock. Soon the stimulation becomes too much and Till has to pull away with a gasp.
"Ivan…t-too much. I'm too sensitive."
"Oh, right," Ivan sighs, pulling away from the kiss.
Till slowly pulls out and grimaces at the mess they've made. His own cum is leaking steadily out of Ivan's twitching hole and Ivan's is…everywhere. On the desk, on his shirt…
"There's so much, holy shit," Till mumbles, amazed.
Ivan flushes and he strips his jacket and shirt off, using the soiled garment to clean his mess. Once he's finished, he looks at it in disgust and throws it in a corner, slipping his jacket over his shoulders and buttoning it all the way up.
"Sorry…" Ivan mumbles, resecuring his jeans and straightening himself up as much as he can.
"No, don't apologize. It's hot, honestly. I can't believe you came just from me inside of you, I didn't even know that was possible."
Ivan scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Well, you kind of shocked me, my body just sort of responded on its own to the intense stimulation."
Till rolls his eyes. "You're cuter when you can't speak like that."
Ivan blushes again and hides his face with his hands. "Stop saying stuff like that."
"What? That you're cute, you are. Sometimes, when you're not being an insufferable asshole."
Ivan squeaks behind his hands, his ears turning bright red and Till has to bite his lip to stifle his laughter. Till tucks himself back into his jeans and happens to look down at his phone and curses when he sees the time.
"Shit, Ivan. I've gotta go, I'm gonna be late, but I won't…I won't tell anyone about this, okay? I can seriously delete the video."
"Oh," Ivan says, that disappointed look appearing once more. "It's fine, you can keep it, really."
"Don't look so sad," Till sighs. "I liked this, okay? It was fun."
Ivan nods, a smile forming on his lips. It's fake, Till knows that much. He sighs, he doesn't have time to deal with this now, not the right way.
"We'll talk later, Ivan. I promise, okay? I'll call you tonight and we'll talk about all this and whatever else you want, but I have to go."
Till doesn't know why he does it, but he leans in and presses a kiss to Ivan's cheek before he turns to leave. He misses it, but Ivan's eyes go wide, his hand coming to caress the spot that Till had kissed. Another smile, a real one, spreads across his lips and he decides that maybe he could be honest with Till for once.