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Ever since moving in together, Ivan and Till started doing many more things together - cooking, composing, movie nights. They were practically inseparable.
They tend to take turns picking out movies to watch, with Till liking more fast-paced, action movies and Ivan liking classic films. Recently, they've started to take turns cooking for each other too, as they’ve slowly transitioned from relying on Till’s mother bringing them food.
It's been fun, experimenting and trying out new foods that they each like.
Till, along with a fresh wave of bickering, idiocy, and more bickering has brought along the most peculiar dietary tastes over the ocean. Luka is still doubtful the boy actually likes every single thing he's making them try, but Ivan seems to be content being a guinea pig for the time being.
Currently, Till is trying to get Luka to try this fruity ass salad he is certain he'll love. It's a weird concoction of regular old salad leaves mixed with citrus-y fruit peels and nuts and raisins. Luka is gagging in his throat as he thinks of it. He just wants to eat lunch.
However, Ivan, the traitor that he is, is on the other side of the counter, showing an increasing interest in the salad recipe, even going as far as looking over Till's shoulder every time he adds a new ingredient.
"Don't worry, I've done this a billion times, I swear it'll be good." Till, the dumbass, says.
He's chopping up little cherry tomatoes to put in the bowl and wearing a chef apron like he's trying to achieve something. All he's doing is making a stale salad.
Luka rests his head on the counter, trying to blink the tiredness away from waiting 30 minutes for a mediocre salad. "Why’d you even need cherry tomatoes, you're such a baby." he complains.
"It adds to the taste." Till says.
Ivan hums as he hands Till a carrot from behind him.
"The sweetness of the fruits and tomatoes combine with the tanginess of the citrus to make the salad taste better. You lack taste." Till scoffs.
Luka raises an eyebrow to himself but ignores it in favour of his rumbling stomach. "Whatever, can you please just finish making it so we can eat?" Luka whines behind his folded arms.
"You're so impatient, good food takes time to make y'know," Till says while tossing the salad together. He then proceeds to split it into 3 even servings, handing Luka his share in a large ceramic bowl.
"Finally," Luka mutters to himself.
He spears a few leaves into his mouth, cringing a bit at the tangy taste. "Not bad, I guess."
"Yeah?" Till says, breathily. Till's eyes are downcast and he's gripping the countertop like he's trying to hold something in.
Luka narrows his eyes at him. He didn't notice it before, but Ivan is almost completely hidden behind him, focused on something behind Till.
They're so close they might as well be plastered together. And Ivan and Till have always been close, even before Till moved in.
Ever since then, they've taken it up a level, scarring Luka's poor eyeballs with various images he'd rather not see again. To put it plainly, they’ve graduated from tooth-rotting flirting to consummating their new relationship in various, well, exciting new ways. And Luka's happy for them. He swears.
But there's something going on today, in their clean, well-organised kitchen, when they're trying to have a wholesome, bonding, friendship lunch.
Ivan seems to be constantly pushing. Forwards.
"What in the goddamn are you guys doing." Luka stammers.
Till barely manages to lift his eyeline up to meet Luka's, slowly colouring a deep shade of red.
Behind him, Ivan's face pinches as he concentrates on something behind Till, pressing himself even closer to his back. He draws back, gripping Till's hips under the counter, and thrusts forward roughly. The force of his movement moves them both forward vigorously, and Till can't hold back this time; a soft moan escaping from his lips.
Now Luka's actually gagging.
"Really? Right in front of my fucking salad?"
Luka's incredulous.
Seriously, best friends can only get this close, there has to be a line somewhere. Or so he thought.
Ivan continues to ignore him, adjusting his grip on Till's hips and angling his cock to perfectly hit Till’s prostate with each pump of his hips.
Despite all the scandalous action going on behind the counter, Luka can’t help but continue to fork bits of the salad into his mouth. As he mentioned before, he was hungry. Also, Till has somehow miraculously made a decent salad all while being preoccupied with a dick up his ass.
On the other side of the counter, Till presses his hips into the wood, subtly grinding forward.
Ivan notices his discomfort and reaches a hand round to Till’s cock. He harshly strokes in time with his thrusts, digging a thumb into his slit on every upstroke.
Till is quickly burning up, unable to handle the constant stimulation on both sides.
Luka tries to focus on swallowing his pine nuts and raisins, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the way Till tilts his head up towards the skies, as if begging for something. The marble arch of his swan neck curves, his face flushed a scarlet red and dazed with pleasure.
Ivan carefully leans forward to press Till fully onto the countertop, pressing his hips upwards into Till.
Till can do nothing but whine breathily into the marble counter, head dangerously close to where Luka’s bowl is.
Luka curls his lip in disgust at the view he’s presented with.
From this angle, he can almost see the way Ivan keeps pistoning in and out of Till if not for the flimsy ribbon of the apron Till insisted on wearing. It drapes perfectly around the curve of Till’s ass, wrapping him up in a pretty bow. Seems to be nothing but a disguise for their real intentions this afternoon, Luka thinks.
"I cannot believe you two. In the kitchen? Really?"
"S-sorry Luka, I-" is all Till can get out before he goes right back to moaning.
Ivan helps him fill out the rest. “This is what you signed up for when you said Till could move in with us.”
"I most definitely did not sign up for this," Luka deadpans.
Ivan just goes back to fucking Till into the counter. He adjusts his grip, arms flexing under the strain, and slides his hands down Till’s thighs.
Huffing out a breath, he leans down to grab Till’s legs. Till makes an incoherent noise as his legs are lifted into the air, allowing Ivan to mould his body as he likes.
“Aah f- fuck!” Till moans, feeling Ivan deep inside him, “God, right there I-” he drops his head down.
Smirking, Ivan wraps an arm around Till’s waist as he hooks Till’s ankles over his elbows. His hips press into Till’s ass like a hot iron, branding him with the imprint of his dick. Till keens high in his throat as he spurts all over his red apron, going boneless in Ivan’s grip.
Shovelling salad as fast as he can into his mouth, Luka says, “I swear I’m moving out after this. You hear me? You guys are disgusting.”
But Ivan just stares him right in the eyes as he erratically fucks into Till’s body, chasing his high. Nothing beats the red hot heat of Till’s ass, velvety and warm like the summer sun.
Ivan looks like he’s in heaven.
“You feel so good, Till..” He coos.
Luka is choking on his own spit.
But Till can’t hear him over the feeling of Ivan still pulsing inside him. He melts into the countertop, trying to relish the feeling of being stuffed full of cock as much as he can. Ivan runs his hands up and down his sides soothingly.
After a while, Ivan sighs and carefully eases out of Till. He cracks his neck languidly and reaches over Till to steal a piece of salad. Munching happily on the lettuce, he grins at Luka.
Luka grimaces.
"Don't worry," Ivan says, then softly to Till. "Baby, I'll clean you up, okay?" He crouches down behind Till's sprawled figure.
Till can only stare at Luka with hazy eyes before they suddenly roll back into his skull. Then he fucking whimpers at whatever Ivan is doing.
Luka's had enough. "Ok, What the fuck." he says.
He doesn’t even want to think about the slurping noises now coming from behind the counter. A kitchen is really used for eating, isn’t it.
As he's walking away, he hears; "Y'know, the salad kinda tastes like you."