Work Text:
Ivan is about to knock on Luka and Till’s dorm room when he hears a quiet moan coming from the other side of the door, followed by a yelp, and Till crying out, “D-don’t touch me there, you jerk!”
“Why not?” comes Luka’s voice, almost breathless with reverence. “You’re so soft.”
Oh, hell no. Ivan knew he should’ve bribed the headmaster when Till was assigned to room with someone other than him. Luka is clearly a sexual predator. This is unacceptable.
Whipping out his secretly obtained spare access key—the respect of knocking is a privilege these two no longer deserve—Ivan bursts through the door, expecting to find Luka’s horrible penis shoved anywhere near Till’s too-pure existence, only to freeze at the sight in front of him.
“Ivan?!” Till, fully clothed, leaps back from Luka, his hands immediately raising to cover his head, but it’s too late. “T-the hell are you—”
“Till, are those—” Ivan starts, then stops. Licks his lips. Is he still breathing? He doesn’t think he’s breathing. “Are those cat ears?”
Till does, indeed, have cat ears on the top of his head. Fluffy and gray and almost too adorable to be good for the survival of their species.
Ivan is halfway to a heart attack from the mere sight of him. He’s surprised his nose doesn’t start gushing blood.
Till also has a long gray tail that is currently wrapped around Luka’s wrist. Luka is lucky Ivan doesn’t carry an extravagant medieval sword around or he’d have sliced that hand right off.
“How…”
“How would I know?” Till nearly wails. “I just woke up like this!”
Ivan immediately turns to Luka.
“How rude,” says Luka mildly. “Blaming me for something that is entirely not my fault.”
Till gapes at him for half a second before he starts hitting at Luka’s shoulder. “You asshole! I’ve been freaking out about this all morning! Couldn’t you have said something sooner?!”
Luka’s expression is passive as always, but there’s a glint to his eyes that he only ever gets when he’s looking at Till.
It’s obvious why Luka kept quiet. For his many faults, Luka does have one superior quality he shares with Ivan.
Mainly, his addiction to riling up Till.
“Very funny, Luka,” Ivan says. He’s a little miffed that Luka was the one to make Till react so adorably, but also secretly grateful for the opportunity to view such a pleasant sight. It’s a cocktail of emotions. “Now change Till back.”
“Even if I were responsible—which I am not admitting to,” Luka adds, “I’m afraid I can’t help you here. I’m a mere engineering student, you see. Transformation magic is wholly out of my capabilities.”
Well, that’s nonsense. And they all know it.
While it’s true that most magi-tech students are minimally able to use magic—similar to Till, who is incapable of using magic at all—Luka comes from a powerful mage bloodline with endless magical reserves. Luka’s decision to study as a magic engineer instead of a spellcaster despite that was a personal choice that rocked the magic community to its core.
Magi-tech may be essential for mage society, but creating it is considered a lesser practice. Other mages will always look down on them.
It’s why most mages won’t enroll as engineers unless they have no other choice.
It’s also the reason Till had a minor crush on Luka long before they met at St. Vladimir’s.
(It doesn’t matter that Till insists his stupid hero worship has since faded after being assigned to room with Luka and forced to realize how unhinged his supposed idol actually was. Ivan will harbor this grudge until the day he dies.)
“You dickhead!” Till wails now, still smacking helplessly at Luka’s shoulder. Till’s eyes are big and wet. His cat ears flatten despairingly against his head. His cheeks are splotched with red.
He’s beautiful. Ivan wants to be buried in him more than anything.
“Till, I don’t think you should be allowed to leave the dorm,” Luka says. His pupils are very large behind his glasses. It makes him look like some sort of possessed demon.
Finally, something Ivan and Luka can agree on.
“W-why the fuck not?!”
“You’re too cute,” Ivan says earnestly. “If anyone else sees you like this, they’re going to try to put their hands down your pants, and then I’m going to prison.”
“I’d get you out,” Luka promises.
“Really?” That’s surprising. “I thought you’d be happy to have me out of the way.” Luka certainly makes it clear with every look of disdain he gives Ivan whenever Ivan comes to visit Till in their dorm.
“Till would cry if you went to jail because of him,” Luka says. “I’d prefer it if he only ever cried because of me.”
Yeah, that makes much more sense.
Despite Ivan and Luka’s mutual, undisguised devotion to Till’s wellbeing (and occasional lovely displays of distress), Till possesses a silly lack of self-awareness. He always thinks they’re just making fun of him.
“I hate you both!” Till cries.
“We know,” Luka croons. He twists his hand to wrap around the tail still clinging to his wrist, giving it a slight tug and exhaling a quiet, exhilarated breath when Till yelps and yanks his tail back, looking betrayed. “Hey, Till, remember that manga we read last month?”
Till goes marshmallow-pale. Ivan is instantly suspicious. “What manga?”
Ivan doesn’t have the same reading preferences Luka and Till do, so he’s always out of the loop whenever they have discussions over their current favorites. He’s always hated that.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Luka drawls. His eyes never leave Till’s face. “Well, Till?”
“A-absolutely not!” Till finally blurts. “Th-that’s—you can’t be—”
“Till?” Brows furrowing, Ivan steps between them like a barrier, only to lose his ability to breathe when Till’s tail wraps around Ivan’s wrist instead, clingy and sweet.
It’s so soft. Ivan struggles to remember the function of oxygen.
“Accidental catboy transformations are a popular trope in Japanese media,” Luka explains. The first red flag. Luka would never be this helpful for no reason. “Till, do you want to tell our favorite literature snob the most common solution or should I?”
Till’s tail tightens slightly above Ivan’s hand. He looks like he’s going to pass out. “C-can’t we just see if Jacob knows anything?” he whimpers.
That makes both Ivan and Luka twitch. Till is the only student who can get away with calling the Legendary Mage Hero from the Third War and current headmaster of St. Vladimir’s School of Magic by his first name like that. Perks of being Jacob’s personal student, perhaps. Till’s idolization of the Hale brothers is by far one of the least cute parts of him.
Ivan wants to maim Jacob’s intestines most days. It’s unfortunate that this is one of the few things he and Luka have in common.
Ivan forces a smile. “Headmaster Hale has better things to do than use a Blessing whenever one of his students messes with a silly spell, don’t you think?”
*
Apparently that doesn’t matter. Half an hour later, the three of them are sitting in the headmaster’s office as Jacob coos over how adorable Till is.
“Till, you’re precious. And you look so cute in a skirt.”
“That’s sexual harassment,” Luka says automatically, like someone who’s never owned a mirror in his life.
“Please refrain from making such comments about one of your students,” adds Ivan. “You wouldn’t want us to get Professor Hale, would you?”
Jacob winces at the mention of his younger brother, Isaac, who is known most famously for kicking Jacob’s ass around campus, with Isaac’s own teaching accomplishments coming second. “H-hey, now, boys, calm down. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only wondering if the skirt was a logistical choice or if this was a recent style preference. I support it either way.”
“I just didn’t want to have to cut a hole through one of my pants,” Till mumbles, cheeks pink. “Tails are fucking uncomfortable to work around.”
As it is, Till looks awkward just sitting on the chair with his tail curling slightly behind him, back straight and scrawny legs pressed tightly together, hands on his lap, like he’s worried he’ll flash all of them just by breathing wrong.
It’s painfully charming. Ivan has to keep his own hands clenched just to keep from reaching out to bruise Till’s thighs.
Jacob opens his mouth. Meets Ivan’s gaze. Closes it. Clears his throat.
“I’d like to examine you, Till, if I won’t lose my hands for it,” Jacob says wryly. “Just to make sure your curse doesn’t come with any major issues.”
“No need,” Luka says. “I already did that when we woke up. Everything is perfectly in order. Rest assured.”
“Oh?” Ivan smiles dangerously. This is news to him.
Flinching, Till fidgets on his chair, skin flushed so completely that Ivan swears he can see the pink spread between Till’s thighs. “G-get your mind out of the gutter! It wasn’t like that!”
“And what is it you think I’m imagining?”
“Alright.” Jacob claps his hands together to get their attention, eyes bright with an unvoiced laugh. “No need to argue. We’re all on the same side, aren’t we? We only want to protect Till.”
“So you know how to change me back?” Till asks hopefully.
Jacob gives him an apologetic look. It’s the kind that makes girls and Till swoon all over campus with its feigned sincerity, but Ivan knows better. Ivan lies just as much as Jacob does.
The only true emotion Jacob ever exhibits is an underlying, calculating cold.
“Sorry, Till, but I’m afraid I’ve never personally encountered a spell like this before. Not even one of my Blessings could reverse it. I’ll ask Isaac and the other faculty members for input, but I don’t anticipate any of them will have an answer either. Transformation magic is exceedingly rare as it is, so partial transformation magic… Really, Luka, where did you even find something like this?”
Luka blinks, slow and vacant. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Have you tried the obvious solution?” Jacob prods Till. “I may be out of touch with popular culture these days, but even I’m aware of the trope. If you’re not comfortable with Ivan or Luka, I could always—”
There’s a loud screeching sound as if a chair is being abruptly, forcefully shoved back, but when they all glance over, Luka is still perfectly seated, not having moved an inch.
“Finish that sentence,” Luka says. “I dare you.”
Jacob laughs warmly. His eyes are completely blank. “It was just an offer,” Jacob assures him, holding up his hands in surrender. “I wanted to make sure Till knows he has plenty of options. He deserves that, don’t you think?”
Ivan’s eyes flicker between them, brows pinched. He doesn’t like this uneasy feeling settling in his gut, like there’s an entire chunk torn out from the middle of a novel that contains vital information for surviving the end. “Am I missing something?”
Till looks like he’d rather be buried anywhere in the world but here. “S-shut up, it’s nothing,” he mumbles, clearly embarrassed.
Then Till clears his throat and focuses on Jacob, as if that’s enough to distract from the gorgeous blush claiming most of his skin.
“I’ll take you up on the offer to ask around, but I—could I borrow an Ice Blessing in the meantime? I didn’t realize feline anatomy was so fucked, temperature-wise. I feel like I’m locked in an oven.”
Three pairs of eyes snap in on Till immediately and with so much force that Till physically flinches back.
“W-what? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Till, are you feeling warm?” Jacob says carefully.
It’s a pointless question. Till never asks anyone for anything. The fact that he actually requested a Blessing from Jacob means something is really wrong.
Till looks confused. “Y-yeah, but that should be fine, right? I mean, my physiology shifted. A little temperature spike shouldn’t be a big deal.”
Except that it is.
Ivan feels so stupid. He’s so used to seeing Till flustered that it didn’t even register how unnaturally hot he looks. The difference is almost comical now that it’s been pointed out.
The way Till’s skin is flushed, the way his pupils are sized, the way he seems to be trembling with the effort just to sit still, his body already aching as it is…
Ivan may not be well-versed in catboy manga stories, but he is aware of animal mating cycles and biology.
Till is going into heat.
*
“Over your dead body,” Luka says flatly.
If there’s one downside to attending one of the most elite magic colleges in the world, it’s that there are actually people with enough common sense to know how brilliant Till is.
Ivan misses when all his classmates were too stupid to find Till perfect. High school might’ve been awful to Till, but for Ivan, it was bliss. Ivan rarely had to share Till with anyone else.
And he certainly wouldn’t have had to argue with others for who should get the chance to take care of Till like this. That gift would’ve been reserved for Ivan alone.
After realizing Till’s condition, Ivan, Jacob, and Luka quickly ushered Till back to his dorm room while trying to keep him as hidden as possible.
Too bad mages are terrible gossips. Somehow word spread about Till’s situation anyway, and now they have to fend off other vultures who’ve gathered to offer their “help.”
“Why not?” Dewey frowns. “I’d be a fantastic heat partner! You can’t seriously be planning on helping him yourself, right? Don’t you have a heart condition? Can you even last more than one round?”
Luka’s eye twitches.
Jacob steps in before Luka can manifest all of Dewey’s organs outside his body, laughing like they’re just a few friends joking around. It fools no one.
“Hey, now,” Jacob laughs lightly. “There’s no need to fight. We all want the same thing.”
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Isaac tells his brother sharply. “Do you know how much vitriol Till deals with because of you already? If people found out you slept with him during a magic-induced heat, it’d ruin you both. It can’t be you.”
At least Isaac is capable of logic, even if his presence here with the rest of them, gathered outside Till’s dorm like hungry wolves ready to fight their own pack for a bite, is enough to set Ivan on edge.
On a normal day, Isaac is everyone’s favorite professor. Today, he is one of Ivan’s enemies.
Dewey, too, seemed like a reasonably decent guy when they saw him magically repairing buildings around campus, whenever a faulty student experiment went awry. Now he just feels like another predator.
But Jacob is by far the worst culprit.
At St. Vladimir’s, Ivan and Luka may be more traditionally popular, but everyone knows of Till: the genius inventor who can’t use magic.
Normally, Till’s inability to cast would’ve automatically disqualified his application, even just as an engineer.
But Till is brilliant. He’s been tinkering with magi-tech since before he knew what magi-tech was. By the time they were in middle school, and Ivan, already a budding magical prodigy, started to catch the attention of St. Vladimir’s proficiency scouts, Ivan thought he’d have to manipulate the college admissions board into accepting Till. A “you can only have me if you take Till as well” kind of deal.
Till would’ve hated him if he ever found out, but that was something Ivan could live with. As long as it kept Till close.
As it turned out, Ivan didn’t have to do a thing. Jacob took one look at Till and immediately decided to make him his personal student.
Some days, Ivan didn’t know if this was better or worse. Jacob’s intense interest in Till’s talent only added to his infamy.
Jacob was a mage legend, a powerful mentor, their esteemed headmaster. Till probably felt he owed Jacob something for bending the rules just to let him in.
And Jacob kept bending rules, giving Till his own workshop even though he was only a first-year, excusing him from classes despite strict attendance requirements, offering him special allowances he’d give no one else.
It was no wonder why so many of the other students resented Till. The fact that Till was incapable of casting was just ammunition. Jacob’s blatant favoritism was the gun.
For Jacob to offer to sleep with Till now, as if he were just like anyone else…
“I only meant that we all want Till to be safe,” Jacob says, his smile slightly stiff from his brother’s accusation.
As if they all don’t know he’d head into the room without a second thought if Till asked. They’re all the same.
Mizi clears her throat. Out of everyone gathered out here, Mizi is the only one who doesn’t feel like a threat. Sua is already inside the room, the only one they all trusted to help cool Till down and keep him calm until the rest of them could stop arguing.
“Ookay,” Mizi says. “So I know you’re all kinda crazy and male and hormonal right now, but I feel like the answer is obvious, right? Why don’t we just ask Till who he wants?”
*
Till is pretty when he’s awkward and irritable. When he’s quiet and overworked. When he can barely keep his eyes open because he hasn’t slept in three days but he’s so engaged with whatever invention he’s working on that the possibility of taking a break doesn’t even cross his mind.
When he looks at Ivan. Averts his eyes and blushes like a blooming garden.
When he breathes, and exists. He’s gorgeous always.
But seeing Till now, squirming needily on his bed as he clutches his tail to his chest like a lifeline and stares up at Ivan with large, wet eyes…
It’s like being hit by a truck. Till’s scent invades his lungs; curls all over his skin. It’s like being wrapped in the warmest, most arousing blanket. Ivan literally has to press a hand against the wall to steady himself, because even with all his acclaimed restraint, he wants.
Wants Till under him. Wants to be inside him. Wants to take and take until there’s nothing left, nothing of Till that doesn’t belong entirely to him.
Fuck. He’s already hard.
“I-Ivan?”
Ivan is by his side in an instant, the mattress dipping considerably beneath his weight. It forces Till to roll against him, his small, too-warm body like an overwrought wire for how much he’s tensed.
Except Till doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t fight it. Just presses his face against Ivan’s chest and inhales with a gasp, like Ivan’s scent is the first thing that’s given him relief in years.
“Till,” Ivan tries. It’s practically unrecognizable. Ivan clears his throat. Tries again. “Till, did Sua—they said she explained—”
“That I’m going into heat? Oh, yeah,” Till says, breathless, sarcastic. He clings to bravado, even when he’s trembling like this. He’s lovely in everything he does. “She got me. I’m never gonna be able to look her in the eye again, but she made sure I understood.”
Because apparently Ivan is the only one who doesn’t read R18 manga. Ivan is learning a lot about his friends today. “And she gave you your options?”
Something in Ivan’s voice seems to make Till freeze. He actually pulls back a little to look up at him, eyeliner already a bit smeared, pupils too large for his eyes to still be green, and there’s this pinch between his brows, so tiny and cute, that Ivan wants to either lick or smooth over with his thumb, and he thinks—
Till pulls back a bit more, rapidly blinking. He’s suddenly tense. “I thought… D-did you not…?”
Ivan frowns. “Not what?” This time he’s the one confused.
Till swallows. “Y-you—you don’t have to—this isn’t an obligation. I-if you don’t want to do this with me, you shouldn’t feel like—”
That’s when it hits him. Till thinks Ivan is somehow the coerced one here. That Ivan is the one who might feel pressured here, as if Ivan hadn’t been five seconds to potentially slaughtering all his professors and friends in the likely event Till said he wanted someone else.
The mere thought is so absurd that Ivan actually laughs.
Till jerks back even more, visibly hurt. He tries to retreat completely, but Ivan catches him before he can, shackling Till’s thin, bony wrists in one hand as he rolls Till beneath him and immediately slots himself between Till’s thighs. Till’s surprised gasp almost makes Ivan come in his pants for the first time tonight.
“Y-you jerk!” Till chokes out, thrashing once he gets over his shock of being pinned like this, clinging to anger to flood his hurt and embarrassment. “You don’t have to fucking laugh at me—”
“I can’t help it,” Ivan murmurs, honest. “Till, you’re so cute. It’s killing me that you’re so cute. Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be for me to last more than three seconds when I’m inside you? Normally all it takes is just you saying my name and I’m ready to go.”
Till squeaks, surprised. Stops thrashing. Looks a little confused but mostly aroused, if the deepening flush across his cheeks and collarbones is indication enough. “T-then you—”
“The fact that there’s a part of you that believed for even a second I wouldn’t give my left foot just to touch you feels like an enormous failing of mine,” Ivan says. “If I had my way, I’d be inside you all the time. You’d never feel hungry again because I’d just be in you, keeping you full, all the time. This isn’t just because of the ears either. I’ve wanted to live in you forever. Since—well, since before I even knew what that meant. So—”
With each word out of Ivan’s mouth, Till’s eyes have gotten wider and wider as his face gets redder and redder, but there’s also an increasing damp spot from where Ivan is pressed firmly between Till’s legs, so Ivan doesn’t think it’s too negative a reaction.
“Y-you—” Till gapes. It’s like the human language has abandoned him. He’s cute, even like this. “Do you even hear what you’re saying?!”
Ivan smiles. Presses a kiss to the prominent tendons on the inside of Till’s wrist. “I’m saying this to be clear, now, because once your heat’s started, I can’t guarantee I’ll be capable of anything resembling gentle. So you should know that even when I’m filling you so deep you feel like you might die, it’s me taking care of you. Because I will take care of you. I want you, Till. I want you to know that.”
“I-I—” Oh, Till’s really stunned now. And he’s really, really pink.
Ivan kisses Till’s wrist again, giving him time to collect himself. Kisses his knuckles, his fingers, the fleshy part of his palm. Kisses Till’s shoulder over the thin layer of his shirt, then kisses beside it, above his collarbones, where it’s nothing but pale, flushed skin and a breathy gasp as Till’s body jerks up, so sensitive, so sweet.
“Till?” Ivan murmurs. “You have to say it. You have to give me permission.”
A soft, whining keen breaks free of Till’s throat. Ivan can feel the heat of him, even through the stiff fabric of his pants and Till’s too-thin underwear.
“I—I already asked for you, didn’t I?” Till breathes. “So take me, idiot. What the hell are you waiting for?”
That’s all Ivan needs before he’s sliding his hand beneath Till’s skirt, hooking his fingers under one side of his panties, and tearing the material right off.
Till shrieks, surprised, clearly not expecting him to be so rough so fast, but Ivan isn’t done. He doesn’t even bother taking off Till’s skirt, too impatient, merely flipping the material up so he can get a better view as he instantly pushes two fingers into Till’s cunt.
“Ohmygod!” Till’s hips jerk, even pinned. He’s so wet that Ivan’s fingers slide in with barely any issue, but the scorching heat, and the unbearable tightness, Till’s fleshy walls clinging to those few fingers like he’s shaking from the pressure, just from that…
“Till,” Ivan says, and he’s not sure what his voice sounds like, because it makes Till freeze beneath him, staring up all horrified and wide-eyed and aroused.
Ivan tries to smile, reassuringly. It only makes Till tremble even more, even as his cunt pulses tight.
“I’m sorry,” Ivan says. “I’m realizing I have much less self-restraint than I thought. You’ll understand, won’t you?”
Till’s tail curls helplessly against Ivan’s arm as he whimpers. Ivan takes that as a yes.
*
Till’s pussy is so warm, and tight. He cries messily when Ivan pushes into him for the first time, and his bony fingers cling desperately to Ivan’s shoulders as his body is split impossibly wide.
Ivan is captivated. Enraptured.
He allows himself to revel in the feeling for only a moment before he folds Till’s thighs to his chest and starts fucking him for real.
“I-Ivan!” Even Till’s sobs are wet. He’s so sweet. Ivan swallows up each gasp directly from Till’s lips, offering mere groans of ecstasy and pants of praise in exchange.
“Till, you feel so good,” Ivan moans. “You feel—can you feel me, in your stomach? Deep inside you? I can be deeper,” he breathes, reveling in the thrill of how Till instantly tightens around him, and his cunt’s grip is already like a vice.
Till’s scent is intoxicating; dizzying. The heat of his body feels like it’s going to melt them both into the ocean, and yet it’s the way Till is still so small around him, even made for this. Ivan can feel the air get punched from Till’s lungs with every thrust. Grinds deeper against the inviting softness of his cervix. Sees the way Till’s belly protrudes every time Ivan pushes back into him.
It’s driving Ivan crazy. He almost can’t take this.
He tightens his grip and thrusts harder.
“Ivan, please!” Till sobs, shaking all over. Ivan coos to soothe him. Kisses him softly. Smoothes his hands over Till’s thin, magic-scarred hips, the silver, vein-like marks prominent even over Till’s exceptionally pale skin. An aching reminder of his defective lineage.
“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Ivan breathes. He doesn’t know if it’s Till’s heat that makes him feel like this, but Ivan groans with every rock into Till’s cunt, like it’s challenging Ivan to ruin Till more, sink impossibly deeper.
Till shakes his head against the sheets. Digs his blunt nails into Ivan’s back. “P-please,” he begs again. His voice breaks. “I—it’s too much, I can’t—”
Till’s pupils are blown so wide. His body trembles, shaky and overwhelmed, like he’s still in awe and disbelief of how much he can handle, didn’t know he could take.
Ivan leans in close. Presses a tender kiss to Till’s temple. Slows his thrusts, gentling them, as he cups Till’s face with one hand and tilts it up to meet his gaze.
“Till, you’re doing so well,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over the tear tracks that have painted Till’s cheeks and only just barely resisting the urge to lick it. Definitely later. “I know it’s a lot, but you feel amazing. Your body is made for this, you can take it, you can be good, can’t you?”
One of his favorite parts of Till is how easily he flushes at taunts and praise, and this probably feels like both to him. Like Ivan is teasing him; challenging him. You’re not going to quit on me now, are you? Ivan’s words must say to him, Till always reading between lines that aren’t there.
Till sets his jaw, all sharp angles and delicate, catlike beauty, a watery fierceness to his eyes that takes Ivan’s breath away.
“O-of course I can!” Till blurts. “You’re the one taking your sweet fucking time!”
Ivan exhales a breathless, delighted laugh. His heart is full. His chest is warm. And who is he to deny Till’s demand? He’s happily followed Till since they were children. He’d follow him anywhere now.
“As you wish,” Ivan breathes, and promptly bends Till in half so he can fuck him unconscious.
It doesn’t take much, after that. Despite Till’s provocation, he’s always been more bark than bite, and his body is like an open nerve, fragile and oversensitive everywhere. The heat and his transformation have only enhanced that.
Till’s eyes roll back from the first thrust with his knees by his head, and he’s already sobbing when Ivan does it again, and again, blood roaring with how prettily Till sings every time.
“I-Ivan, wait!” Till gasps. “Fuck, please, I didn’t—oh god, oh god, it’s t-too much, I can’t—”
Ivan kisses him, so sweetly. Fucks him, so lovingly. If that means making Till’s body devolve into breathless, soul-wracking sobs as his insides forcibly make space for Ivan’s cock, that’s just how they love each other.
What they have has never been typical. Ivan’s heart exists solely in Till’s quiet warmth at his side, at Till’s gentle soul at his hand, and how despite Ivan never giving Till a single reason to want him around all the time, Till has kept him anyway and tugged him along every time Ivan veered a little too far into the back.
This is his home. In Till, with Till. Whatever pests may be drawn to Till, none of it will matter because Ivan has always been here first. And he’s always known what he wanted.
“Till, let’s make a baby.”
Till makes the cutest strangled sound at his words, but he clings tighter to Ivan’s neck and doesn’t say no, so Ivan can read between the lines, too.
When Ivan fills him for the first time, Till is breathless, sobbing. His heat’s in full force now. It’s like he cries and comes with every touch.
The others anticipated this would last between one and three days. It might also be the key to getting rid of the cat ears, but that possibility is less concrete. Fiction isn’t a good reference tool, and magic is finicky like that. They won’t know until they try.
Either way, it suits Ivan just fine. He made sure to confiscate Luka’s key before he came in here. He has plenty of time to get Till pregnant.