Chapter 12

"Proves him wrong.

"I didn't think you'd actually drink it."

"Why wouldn't I?" Ivan asks, pausing to happily suck up some more water. "It's from you. I think it tastes sweeter now. Do you want to try?"

"You're so fucking gross," Till snaps. His cheeks are burning. Does this count as swapping spit? Is it worse? Fuck, his first kiss is indirectly Ivan of all fucking people.

Ivan hums.

"I never said I wasn't. But you gave it to me willingly, so doesn't that make you worse?"

Till glares at him.

"I hate you. I hope you aspirate, asshole." He's seconds away from grabbing his switch and diving back into his game just to avoid the nightmare that is Ivan.

"Would you perform mouth-to-mouth?" Ivan asks, looking way too interested.

"I'd finish the job, freak."

Ivan laughs, but their food finally arrives, cutting off whatever weird bullshit he was about to spew. Till tears into his sushi like a feral cat, because dealing with Ivan tends to work up his appetite. He also might have a weakness for sushi – and fish in general – but it's mostly Ivan's fault. He's also determined to pretend the last five minutes didn't happen.

But of course, Ivan has to ruin it.

"You should do that more often," Ivan says, breaking a piece of his sushi roll in half with his chopsticks. He eats like a psychopath, always tearing his food apart before bringing it to his mouth.

Cheeks full, Till looks up and asks, "What?"

"Be physically mean to me," Ivan says casually, like he's suggesting Till try a new hobby instead of the thing he's already been doing for the better part of seven years. "My shin is still unbruised. Or... you could try tickling me again. Just a suggestion."

Till chokes on a piece of tuna. He coughs violently and slams a hand against his chest to try and dislodge it. Ivan reaches over to thump him on the back a little too hard, smiling. "Just a suggestion," Ivan says.

Till can't believe him.

"You're so fucking weird," Till rasps once he can breathe.

Ivan is a serious pervert. He's acting innocent, but Till knows he isn't ticklish. Ivan gets hard when Till touches him, because he wants to destroy Till's virgin hole, and here he is, asking to be "tickled" in public. It's obscene even for a freak like Ivan. He's so fucking sly. How long has this maniac been manipulating Till like this? Fuck, Till doesn't want to know. His whole life has been a lie. Never mind the fact that a frankly worrying part of Till wants to see if Ivan really would pop a boner in the middle of this restaurant.

"I can't help being ticklish," Ivan says with a little pout. He's such a loser.

"Psycho," Till says immediately. He needs to get away from Ivan, like, yesterday. "Absolute fucking psycho. I'm going to the restroom."

Ivan stands so Till can get up, and then he tries following him.

"Alone," Till hisses, pushing Ivan back to his seat. "And don't even think about spitting in my drink while I'm gone, Ivan. I'll know, and I'll key your fucking car until it's ruined."

Ivan frowns at Till's soda, clearly thwarted. "If you insist. Have a safe trip."

Till flips him off.

It's been four days since Till discovered hardcore gay step-brother porn on Ivan's laptop. Coincidentally, Till has not jacked off in the same amount of time. It's safer that way because Till won't be crossing any invisible lines. He doesn't know what he'd fantasize about in the moment, but he's pretty sure it would involve Ivan somehow. And he is being so normal about that, actually.

"You seem distracted," Liz says during Till's guitar lesson. "Something on your mind, Till?"

Yeah, my step-brother's cock, Till thinks. Liz's cleavage is directly in his line of sight, and he's thinking about Ivan. Fuck. Till ducks his head and averts his gaze.

"N-Nothing. Just, uh, this chord is tricky, you know?"

"Nah." Liz leans over his shoulder, and the smell of her perfume assaults Till's senses. "You've done it before – here, let me show you."

Liz is touching him. She's gently moving Till's fingers into the correct position on the fretboard, and her long black hair is tickling his cheek. If he looked to his right, his vision would be totally filled with her generous cleavage. She's never really worn a lot of clothes. Winter must be hard for her.

Till blushes to the roots of his hair. There's no escape. He hopes she doesn't notice how sweaty his fingers have gotten. "L-Like this?"

Do not pop a boner in the middle of your guitar lesson, Till chants in his mind. Do not pop a boner. Do not pop a boner. Do not—

Liz finally steps away. "Yeah, you've got it. Try it now."

Till manages to shakily strum his guitar. A perfect F minor chord rings out, and Liz offers Till one of her small, reserved smiles. Thin lips, black lipstick. She's so cool. Unfortunately, Ivan has poisoned Till's mind and possibly turned him gay without even being, like, consciously aware he did it. Also, Till is hard. His sexuality is so confused.

"I need to go," Till manages, hurriedly packing up his guitar and things before she sees his situation.

"Listen, Till, I wasn't—"

"Wednesdays are fine," Till rushes to say, using his guitar as cover as he creeps toward the door to freedom. "I'll... Bye."

Till doesn't bother asking Ivan for a ride. His boner goes down while he's walking home, and he spends approximately four minutes in his room, staring at the ceiling, before his dick gets hard again. Stupid fucking Ivan. This is all his fault.

Usually, Till prefers to wait until night to jerk off, but he's actually dying here. He needs to cum so bad.

Till is pitching a tent in his tight jeans, and he unzips them to pull his underwear down just enough to free his cock. He's so hard that his dick immediately slaps against his flat stomach, dripping precum onto his skin.

What would Ivan do if he saw Till like this? It's a funny thought. He'd probably have a stroke if he came in and saw Till sitting in bed with his dick out, holding the hem of his T-shirt between his teeth as he pumps his dry cock.

Wait. He's not supposed to be thinking about Ivan right now. So, Till swallows and stares at his own bony, pale hand wrapped around his dripping length. He tries to imagine a girl jerking him off. But every time he's getting into it, his brain conjures up the image of Ivan.

Fuck. Maybe he can just... experiment a little. It's fine. It's not a big deal.

Till finds his phone under his blanket. He hesitates for a moment, staring at the glowing screen as his fingers hover over the search bar. His heart beats wildly in his chest, thundering against his ribcage as he bites the bullet and presses enter.

Then, he's suddenly presented with thumbnails of sweaty muscles, tangled limbs, and hard cocks. And it's not immediately revolting, so Till scrolls down, his thumb moving too fast for him to really process any of it until a thumbnail catches his eye – a guy with dark hair pinning a skinny twink down, both of them flushed and panting.

Till bites his lip. It's just porn. It's not weird. No one will even know.