Work Text:
same time on fri?
It’s become somewhat of a regular thing, this Till and Ivan dynamic. Well, kind of. Emphasis on the somewhat. It’s happened twice—Till heads to Paratise after a long week of work, Ivan toys with him for a few hours, and Till goes home before the sun comes up. Till is trying to be casual about it in their sporadic text conversations.
I will be preparing for an international conference this weekend. My flight leaves Saturday evening.
A conference? An international conference? Till pouts, as if Ivan could see him through his screen.
oh
is that a no or
Not necessarily. I have something I’d like to try if you’re up for it.
ominous but ok
Are you comfortable meeting at my place? I can arrange a ride.
yeah
dude I uber to paratise anyways lol, it’s fine
My driver will pick you up at eight.
—
7:59pm, Friday, and a car pulls up to the front of Till’s apartment complex. It’s a sleek black vehicle. Spotless. Very Ivan, to no one’s surprise. The driver holds the door open and Till gets in.
The drive takes about 20 minutes, and then Till finds himself dropped off in front of a very large, fancy building. Ivan greets him at the door, and leads him through the gleaming lobby to an elevator, where Ivan taps a key card before selecting the penthouse floor. (Figures.)
The elevator doors slide open to reveal a spacious, open-layout living room and kitchen. The walls are a dark blue-grey, drawing Till’s eyes to the floor-to-ceiling windows that glitter with lights from the city below.
“Damn,” Till says.
Ivan smiles. “It’s quite a lot. Let me show you around.”
There are far too many rooms for one person, Till thinks: the foyer-living-dining-kitchen room, the accompanying half-bathroom, a pantry, a studio of some sort, a guest bedroom, a full bathroom, a room with a couch and a TV large enough to be a movie theater, Ivan’s bedroom (with a massive walk-in closet), the connecting full bathroom, and Ivan’s study, where the tour concludes.
Ivan sits down in a desk chair made of plush, dark leather as Till glances around the space. It’s fairly minimal: artwork hung across the walls and a long, walnut desk in the center of the room, behind which Ivan is sitting. Tall bookshelves occupy the entirety of the back wall, stacked with what looks to be hundreds of books.
“You don’t have a dungeon?” It’s the most insistent question on Till’s mind.
“Most of my scenes stay at Paratise,” Ivan responds. “Work-life balance, as they say.”
“So what am I doing here, then?”
“You will keep me company while I finish my work. I have materials to complete and client communications to maintain.”
Till eyes him dubiously.
“Come here,” Ivan says.
Till obeys, walking behind Ivan’s desk and stopping when their knees are a few inches from touching. From here, Till can see an array of objects on Ivan’s desk, aside from the large monitor, keyboard, mouse, and a few stacks of paper printed with blocks of text and scribbled over with red-inked notes. There’s a collar; a strip of thick, black leather that loops through a buckle in the back, and it has a gleaming silver ring attached to the front. There is another larger, triangular form made of matching materials, with buckled straps wrapped around it. And there is one last item—a small, metal contraption that Till doesn’t recognize.
“Strip,” Ivan says.
Slowly, Till takes off his clothes, shirt first. Ivan accepts the pile of fabric and sets it on the end of his desk.
Till stands there, nude and awkward. He’s still mostly soft when Ivan picks up the piece of metal—upon closer inspection, it appears to be a set of fixed rings creating a cylinder with a sort of dome at the end—and detaches a larger metal ring from the base. Ivan puts the ring over Till’s cock, around his balls, and encases just his shaft in the main cylinder. Ivan locks the cylinder onto to the ring with a key, leaving Till’s dick completely constrained in metal.
A chastity cage.
Ivan threads the key through a chain and fastens it around his own neck. Then, he looks back at up Till.
“Now that you’re caged, I’ll tell you what I have planned,” he says. “Do you know what cockwarming is?”
Till swallows. “Yeah.”
“Good. I think it’ll satisfy some of your oral fixation that I noticed in our last session. I’m going to collar and bind you, first, and fuck your mouth. After I cum, I will finish up my work; it’ll probably take an hour or so, maybe longer. Your mouth will stay on my cock until I’m done.”
Till nods feverishly.
“After that, I’ll have my fun with you. How does that sound?”
It takes Till a second to find his voice, and then he says, “Good.”
“Excellent. Turn around,” Ivan instructs.
Till does, hyper-aware of the weight of the metal on his dick as he moves, and Ivan guides his arms through leather straps that settle on his shoulders. Ivan then takes his wrists and lines them up parallel behind his back. Blind, Till can only feel as Ivan wraps his arms in leather and cinches the straps, pulling his shoulder blades toward each other as the armbinder tightens. Till feels exposed, almost on display, with his chest out and cock caged.
Now, all that’s left is the collar. Ivan stands up to place it over Till’s head. His hands are gentle as he arranges the it around Till’s neck. The collar is tall enough—maybe two inches—that it makes Till straighten his posture, head forced high. Ivan moves the messy, silver hair around the nape of Till’s neck so it does not catch in the leather before looping the collar closed. There’s something to the constant pressure—like he’s owned. Vulnerable. It makes him a little light-headed.
Ivan reorients Till to be facing him, back against the desk. Ivan hooks a finger through Till’s collar and pulls him down, drawing out a gasp, until he’s kneeling before Ivan.
“Beautiful.”
Till’s ears burn.
Ivan gets on one knee next to him and slides Till backwards until he’s under the desk. Then he reaches behind Till, lifting his arms, and attaches the armbinder to something that keeps his arms up, almost level with the floor, forcing Till to lean forward.
Ivan sits back down into his seat. Looking up at him, movement restricted by the collar and armbinder, stirs arousal in Till’s gut. He can feel his cock starting to strain against the metal. Ivan caresses Till’s face, running a thumb across his cheek.
“How do you feel, Till?”
“I… Fine. Good.”
Ivan smiles. Inches from Till’s face, he unzips his pants and takes out his half-hard cock. Till opens his mouth in anticipation.
“What a good slut, so ready for me, hm?” Ivan strokes himself slowly.
“Please,” Till says, barely above a whisper. He notices a thin, metal ring encircling Ivan’s shaft and balls, but the thought leaves his mind when he feels Ivan’s clothed leg press against his caged cock, and he whines. He ruts against Ivan’s leg. It’s pathetic, really, but Till is too horny to care—and then Ivan’s leg is gone. Till looks back up at him.
”Iva—“
Ivan lets his dick fall against Till’s open mouth. He groans. Ivan is hot and heavy on his tongue, and Till starts suckling on the head immediately. He can’t move much to take more, but Ivan starts fucking Till’s mouth, slowly, teasing. Till has started to drip in his cage, pre joining the mess of drool on the floor.
“Fuck, Tilll,” Ivan breathes out.
Till moans around his dick in response.
“You look so pretty with your mouth on my cock,” Ivan says, thrusting harder. “Like you were made for me.”
Till’s thighs squeeze together in a futile attempt to touch himself, his hips bucking into the air ever so slightly. His eyes drift closed. He focuses on relaxing his throat, whining with pleasure-pain when the collar digs into his skin.
Ivan’s movements quicken before he pulls out roughly, stroking himself to completion and cumming over Till’s face and tongue. His red eyes are locked on Till and his black hair is just slightly disheveled, and Till really wants Ivan to touch him, fuck him, anything. Till swallows what he can, and Ivan feeds Till the rest with his fingers.
“Good boy,” Ivan says.
Till whines, still licking the cum off Ivan’s fingers. Ivan’s thumb presses into his mouth, forcing him to open wider, and Ivan slides his dick back in. He’s half hard, so it’s not as much as before, but he still pushes forward until there’s only an inch or two left. Till feels a tug on his collar, and then there’s a soft click. When Till tries to move back, he cant—Ivan attached his collar to the cock ring he had noticed earlier on Ivan.
He’s fixed in place, stuck between the armbinder attached to the desk and the collar attached to Ivan.
He whines softly around the cock in his mouth. His own cock throbs, full of ache with nowhere to go.
Ivan runs his hand through Till’s hair. Till can’t see his expression—can’t look up, because of his predicament. He breathes in Ivan, eyes fluttering closed.
Then Ivan’s hand leaves.
It’s a bit strange, at first, having Ivan ignore him. It leaves Till pitifully neglected, and it does something to his own cock—or rather, it would if he could get hard. It is vaguely uncomfortable, the restriction of the cage, but it keeps him from being too focused on his dick.
Instead, Till drifts amidst the heady feeling. He doesn’t move—can’t, really—but the linked collar and armbinder keep him in position without Till having to put in effort, so he relaxes into his bonds. Sinks lower. Floats higher. The click of typing and shuffling of paper above him fade into the background. His existence narrows down to sensation: Ivan thick and warm in his mouth, the aftertaste of cum still on his tongue, the smell of sex coming from the both of them. His heartbeat thumps in his ears. He inhales through his nose.
In, out.
In, out.
In, out.
It’s a perfect nothingness. He succumbs to the steady, comforting physicality of it all, and time wanders by aimlessly. He loses track of the outside world.
In, out.
His mind clears, or fogs, or maybe something in between, but either way his thoughts escape him.
In, out.
Bliss. That’s all there is.
In, out.
He remains conscious, but barely—skimming the surface of sleep, the hazy place where sounds blur and hours could be seconds, or seconds could be hours.
In, out.
—
Till does not notice when Ivan stops typing, nor does he notice when Ivan’s hands card through his hair and unlink his collar.
His eyes only open, bleary and unfocused, once Ivan backs up and his mouth is empty. He makes a wanton noise—disappointment, confusion, desire.
Ivan gently undoes the armbinder, setting it aside, and lifts him up, carrying him to the bedroom. He sits down on the side of the bed, Till straddling his lap, hugging his neck with his face nestled, still breathing in Ivan’s scent. Till’s limbs are sore, red indentation marks leftover from the armbinder scattered across his skin. Ivan’s arms around his waist hold him steadily upright.
“Till.” The word finally comes through the buzz.
“Mmm,” Till says.
“You were so good for me. It’s time for your reward,” Ivan says gently. “Do you want it?”
A reward—Till has no idea what that would entail but the anticipation grounds him a bit more. His posture straightens. He opens his eyes again to look at Ivan, and he nods.
Ivan kisses down Till’s neck, sucking on his collarbones. He lifts Till and moves them both further back onto the bed. Ivan pulls him closer into his lap, and then he takes Till’s nipple into his mouth, and Till lets out a moan. His arms are still slung over Ivan’s shoulders as Ivan swirls and flicks his tongue, and Till drags long scratches up his back. Ivan’s hand plays with the other, pinching and rubbing, and then Ivan bites and Till screams.
“Ivan, Ivan,” he says.
“Yes, Till?”
“I, ohh—” Till forgets what he wanted to say when Ivan traces the fading bite mark with the tip of his tongue.
“Hm?”
“I want to cum,” Till says.
“Alright.”
Ivan’s other hand moves to Till’s caged dick, cupping his balls and swiping his thumb over Till’s tip, which has filled out into gaps of the cage. Ivan massages his balls, and they’re suddenly so tight with the spike of stimulation and—
“Ah! Wait—” Till shoves at Ivan’s hand. “Not like that, please, I want to cum—for real—”
Ivan squeezes him one final time and lets up. Till exhales with relief.
“Touch me while I open you up,” Ivan says, guiding Till’s hand to his cock. “You’ve earned your orgasm already, but if you keep being good, I’ll let you cum uncaged.”
Till whines. He craves Ivan’s touch on his hard dick, the sweet friction, so he obediently takes Ivan’s cock into his hands—he’s fully erect now, though still wet with Till’s spit. Till’s forehead falls into Ivan’s shoulder, looking down but his eyes don't really focus. He strokes slowly.
Ivan’s fingers, slick with lube, press into Till. They curl against his prostate, sending a jolt of electricity through Till. Ivan pulls out, presses in again.
“You’re doing so good, Till,” Ivan says into Till’s ear. “Look at you, caged and helpless, stroking my cock.”
The contrast is stark—Ivan is big, and Till is as small as can be. His cage rubs against Ivan’s dick with each movement. It makes Till dizzy.
“I’m sure you wish you could touch yourself, hm? Make yourself cum like a desperate little whore,” Ivan says. “But all you can do is touch me, while your pathetic cock drips in its cage.”
Till moans and speeds up subconsciously, as if he could feel it on his own aching dick. It makes him twitch, placebo be damned. He clenches around Ivan’s fingers, shuddering when the nudges against his prostate wrack through him.
“Ivan, please,” he whimpers.
“Please what, Till?”
“Take it off…” Till frustratedly tightens his hold on Ivan’s cock, making him moan.
Ivan laughs, lifting his arms to remove his shirt in one smooth motion. He tosses it to the side somewhere.
Till pouts, choosing to ignore Ivan’s bare chest. His sweaty, gleaming— “Not that. The cage.” He averts his gaze. “Please.”
“Have you been good enough for that?”
The question disarms him. “I… don't know.”
This feels much more personal, Till thinks. The proximity, the heat of their breath mixing, Ivan’s cock grinding against Till’s cage, the too-revealing question.
“Hmm.” Ivan works his fingers deeper, curls them, and Till collapses onto Ivan with a moan. “If you can get my cock all the way in, by yourself, I’ll take off the cage.”
He lays back onto the bed, leaving Till sitting upright on his lap. The dim light reflects off Ivan’s rippling muscles, and Till can’t help but stare this time.
Ivan raises an eyebrow. “Enjoying the view?”
Till blushes. After a moment’s hesitation, he nods. Barely. One could say it was just an exhale.
“I would say we don’t have all night, but we do,” Ivan says leisurely. “And I am quite enjoying my view as well.”
The flush spreads to Till’s ears, heats his neck.
There are condoms and lube next to them on the bed, so he takes one of the former and rips it open, rolling it down Ivan’s length. He then squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, and rises on unsteady knees to position himself over Ivan’s cock. Reaching a hand under himself, he inserts three fingers. It’s relatively easy, thanks to Ivan’s prep. He spreads his fingers, whimpering at the stretch. He can’t be bothered to wait much longer, so Till takes out his fingers and grips Ivan’s cock. His hands are slippery but he manages to angle himself correctly, and they both moan when the tip goes in.
“Ahh, you’re so big, Ivan,” Till blurts mindlessly, clenching around him.
Ivan’s cock twitches. He grips Till’s thighs. “So much left for you to take,” he responds.
“Mmhmm.”
Till sinks lower, trying to stay relaxed, but it’s hard to do when his thighs are tensed to keep him elevated. He makes it maybe a third of the way down before he slowly comes back up.
Till rolls his hips, moving up and down on the tip of Ivan’s cock, leaning back so Ivan’s head pushes against his prostate. Each time he takes a little more, until his legs are shaking, and his breath is wobbly. Pre leaks from his cage, his balls tightening with every inch. He gets to about two-thirds of the way down Ivan’s cock before he stops.
“I can’t do any more,” Till gasps.
Ivan stares at him, eyes dark. “Yes, you can.”
“Nooo,” Till whines. He spasms as he tries to sink lower. “Fuck, I’m so close—“
“There’s just a little more,” Ivan says.
“You’re a liar.”
Suddenly, Ivan slaps Till’s balls, hard—and Till screams, legs giving out, collapsing the rest of the way down into Ivan’s cock, and he spurts cum out of the cage onto Ivan’s chest as his body convulses. He falls forward, forearms landing on Ivan’s chest to prop himself up, jolting through residual pain and aftershocks of pleasure.
“What a feisty little pain slut,” Ivan coos. “See, I knew you could do it.”
Once Till can form a coherent sentence again, he says, “You’re so mean.” He sits back up a bit, whimpering when Ivan thrusts up into him.
”And you’re so pretty, like this. My perfect cumslut, taking my cock so well.”
Till moans. “Are you going to take it off now? Please?”
“Hmm… I said if you could do it by yourself,” Ivan said.
“Ivan, please,” Till begs. “Please, fuck, I’ve been waiting for hours, I’ve been good, I’ve been so good—”
He nearly sobs when Ivan takes off his necklace. Ivan takes the key, there’s a click, the pressure disappears, and the blood rushes from Till’s brain—
Ivan strokes Till’s cock as it rapidly fills out.
“Oh, hnnngh, Ivan, ah—” Till has never been this sensitive while soft before, what with the cockwarming and the cage and the ruined orgasm, but it doesn’t last long. He is hard within seconds, probably, and Ivan keeps going. “Ivan, I’m close—”
Ivan stops.
Till sobs, pawing at Ivan’s hands. He’s shaking. “Ivannn.”
“Ride me.” Ivan is smiling at him, black hair damp and messy, chest rising and falling with each breath. “And I’ll make you cum.”
Till pushes himself up with a moan, and fucks himself back down. He repeats the motion, his neglected, hard cock hitting his stomach and smearing it with lube and hours worth of pre.
“Fuck, you’re such a good slut for me,” Ivan says.
Before Till can respond, Ivan starts stroking his dick. Till doubles over, sobbing.
“Keep going,” Ivan says, “Let me see you cum.”
Till tries—bouncing up and down, hitting his prostate again and again and again, turning his vision staticky, but then his legs won’t work and his body is overwhelmed, full, jerking into Ivan’s fist and clenching around Ivan’s cock—his thighs fall onto Ivan’s hips, wrought with tremors—
“Ivan, please, I can’t—ngh—”
Gloriously, Ivan grabs him by the waist and thrusts sharply up into him. It wrenches a cry from Till’s throat, and then another when he does it again. Till’s hands claw at Ivan’s. He cries out, tears leaking from his eyes as his hips thrust feebly, uncontrollably, into the slippery warmth of Ivan’s hand. Ivan fucks into him, bruising his prostate, and he’s so, so hard and he’s finally being touched and—
“Ivan, I’m—ahhh—c-close—”
“Cum for me, Till.”
His eyes start to roll back in his head as Ivan’s strokes speed up. “Oh, fuck, Ivan—I’m cumming—I’m—”
Ivan rams into him one last time, pushing deep, and Till’s vision goes white as he cums all over Ivan’s fist and stomach. He wails, pulling at Ivan’s arms as Ivan drags him through it, hand still working over his sensitive dick. Ivan’s cock throbs inside him, and Till clamps down harder and he just keeps cumming—his orgasm seems to last forever, he’s gasping for air, his cock kicking relentlessly, leaking, emptying until there’s nothing left and his body finally gives out. He falls flat onto Ivan, dick still inside him, chest to heaving chest with a wet mess of cum and lube between them.
—
Ivan removes the collar before showing Till to the shower. After coming to, Till is surprisingly clear-headed, almost refreshed—but dead tired. He could sleep for a week.
Ivan has fancy shampoo and fancy face wash—or at least, that’s what Till can make out from the fancy labels. He uses them as such, and after soaking in the spray of hot water for a long while, dries himself off. He slathers fancy lotion onto his skin (and if he sniffs it and adds more because it smells like Ivan, then no one has to know). He puts on the t-shirt and sweats that Ivan left for him—not dissimilar to the ones Ivan gave him on their first night—and walks, barefoot and hair damp, out of the bathroom.
Ivan, also freshly showered, is sitting in the bed. (The sheets appear to have been changed, thank god.) He has a book in his hands, but he looks up when Till enters. “You know the way out, or there’s a guest room, if you’d like.”
Till looks at the bedroom door silently.
He looks at Ivan.
Ivan puts the book down on the nightstand and holds his arms open. Till walks up to him and burrows into the space, nuzzling his face into Ivan’s chest. He inhales deeply. Ivan’s arms come down to wrap around him.
“Should’ve known you were a cuddler.” Ivan tucks a lock of hair behind Till’s ear.
“Mm,” Till says.
He quickly drifts off to sleep.