
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/262584.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Dave_Strider
  Additional Tags:
      Hand_Jobs, Voyeurism, Imaginary_Exhibitionism
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-10-09 Words: 3496
****** John Egbert's Uncooperative Junk ******
by chocolatedisco
Summary
     TG: well damn this is serious
     TG: not many problems a blanket fort cant fix
Notes
     Horrendously silly fluff porn! Ostensibly written for the kink meme,
     but I went so far off the prompt I'm not even going to tell you what
     it was. Neener neener. Many thanks to a dear friend for euphemisms. A
     little bit of John/Karkat pops up near the end.
EB: hey dave!
EB: heheh, pestering you from a couple rooms away is never gonna get less
awesome.
TG: definitely not
TG: at no point in time will our loving ectofamilies get tired of this brady
bunch shit
TG: every day’s a goddamn sunshine day
EB: heheh, if we’re the brady bunch, is your bro alice?
TG: yeah
TG: hammin it up over there in the middle box
TG: smoldering romantic tension with that butcher dude
EB: lil cal?
TG: gross dude
TG: anyway sup
EB: bluh, i was kinda hoping you’d go off on some hilarious tangent so i could
put this off more.
EB: um...
EB: i can talk to you about anything, right?
TG: yeah
TG: fear not i think i see where this is going
EB: you do?
TG: sure thing
TG: contrary to what you may have been taught
TG: babies are generally not made in labs by goobers giving away free bunnies
EB: oh wow really dave? this is new information to me! if only i had paid more
attention in school.
EB: by which i mean shut up.
EB: it is kinda about that, though.
TG: whoa seriously
EB: again, shut up!
TG: no im just a little surprised
TG: figured youd awkwardly search google and delete your history flipping out
like a consort with a shiny new hat
TG: oh my god oh my god what if daddy egbert walked in oh my god
TG: but im ok with this
TG: welcome to remedial sex ed kids
TG: im coach strider and im here to help you understand the changes your body
is going through
EB: bluh bluh bluh!
EB: i’m coach strider and i’m here to never shut the fuck up.
TG: got me there
EB: it’s not really something i can look up.
EB: promise not to laugh, okay?
TG: scouts honor bro
EB: before the game, i always kinda felt like i was being watched.
EB: especially whenever i... you know.
TG: spanked it
EB: ew, but yeah.
EB: i always thought it was like, creepy voyeur ghosts.
EB: you can laugh at that part.
TG: thank god
EB: heheh, yeah.
EB: i could manage to ignore it when stuff got really bad! i mean, i thought
they were just really weird ghosts.
EB: but once i started really talking to the trolls...
TG: oh
EB: yeah.
EB: i mean, i don’t think they’re just sitting around, watching me do stuff.
EB: but it feels like it!
EB: and no matter how hard i try, that’s all i can think about, and i can’t
focus on sexy thoughts.
TG: like animal crackers
EB: like shut up dave, that scene was so intimate, everything you like sucks.
EB: it’s so bad i haven’t been able to finish in like, weeks.
TG: holy shit
EB: yeah!
EB: i am pretty much about to die.
EB: any ideas?
TG: youve tried porn right
EB: of course.
TG: hold up some kinda sign
TG: im gonna beat off now plz go away
EB: i can name at least three trolls who would want to watch even more if i did
that.
TG: fair enough
TG: nice dark blanket fort
EB: tried it.
EB: awesome, but useless.
TG: well damn this is serious
TG: not many problems a blanket fort cant fix
EB: true that.
TG: hm
TG: so youre pretty desperate
TG: as long as you get off youre not too picky
EB: uh... i guess so?
TG: k
TG: hold tight
Your name is John Egbert, and you hold tight. It’s a little difficult though,
because you are seriously losing it over this. Everything is turning you on and
you can’t do shit about it! You’re just sitting there watching a movie or
eating dinner or doing homework and bam, suddenly Awkward Bonersville,
population you. It is frustrating! You’d like to trust your troll buddies not
to be creeps, but maybe watching people masturbate is something they do. It
sure feels like it is, and you just can’t bring yourself to be culturally
sensitive about that. They should be culturally sensitive to your need for a
little privacy, dang it.
You jump a little when the door opens and Dave steps into your room. You offer
him a weak “Oh, hey,” as you collect yourself, turning towards him in your
spinny chair, flicking the switch on your desk lamp because he’s a ridiculous
dork who refuses to take off his birthday shades. You figured he was just off
formulating some kind of plan, not coming to your room! Your brain submits that
he is considering a hands-on solution, and then somehow winks at you, but you
abjure the hell out of that submission. Dave Strider is one of your best
friends. Several of your trips to Awkward Bonersville have been sponsored by
the Dave Strider Corporation, and you know you can’t help that, but you don’t
want to objectify someone you love like that. Actively fantasizing about him
jacking you off is weird and not okay.
So you’re understandably confused when he replies, “Hey. Want me to jack you
off?”
“Sorry?” you say, unsure if you actually heard those words or if your brain is
just so addled that it’s started replacing people’s words with propositions.
“Shit, that was weird, wasn’t it,” he curses, pushing his shades into the
bridge of his nose. Oh god, you totally heard him right. “Forget it. It was a
joke. Haha, me jacking you off. My best one yet.”
“Dave, you are full of shit!” you inform him, even though you are pretty sure
he is aware of that already.
“Yeah. Sorry. I thought it might help. Oh, you can’t get off because it feels
like people are watching you? Why don’t you actually get someone in your
physical presence to lavish a little tender loving care on your groin geoduck?
Just how high do you even have to be?” He pronounces geoduck like Geodude, but
you let it slide. There are more important things on your mind.
“Dave? I don’t mean to interrupt, but I am pretty sure I never said no.” This
stops the self-flagellation train in its tracks, and he moves closer until he’s
standing over you. He’s trying to seem cool, but you know that for whatever
knowledge he’s picked up from the internet, inexperience has him just as
nervous as you are.
“Didn’t say yes either.”
“Then I guess I should say it now. Why yes, Dave, I think it would be pretty
great if you jacked me off!” You probably shouldn’t tease him, but coolkid
concern is just so funny to you.
“You’re a pretty cruel kid, Egbert,” he tells you, reaching out to grasp the
collar of your Ghost Dad shirt (so awesome, alchemizing shirts with your movies
was one of your best ideas ever) and tugging lightly so you’ll stand up.
“Making me promise not to laugh at you, being so needy I can’t help but come in
and offer my assistance, then giggling at me when I show a little basic
consideration.” He leads you over to your bed, where he sits, and then pulls
you into his lap. It’s not the most comfortable you’ve ever been, but
comfortable is just about the last thing on your mind when his hands slide down
to your hips, lifting up your shirt to play with the waistband of your quickly
tenting pajama pants. “I got half a mind to leave.”
“Oh god, please don’t. That half sucks, the other half is awesome.” You’re kind
of embarrassed, he’s hardly done anything yet and you’re already begging. An
idea that seems pretty good pops into your head, and you decide you might as
well embarrass yourself further, so you lean forward to kiss him. Nothing super
passionate, but right on the lips and everything. He’s kind of unresponsive
though, and your glasses just keep clacking together and threatening to fall
off, so you back away, feeling a little sheepish. “Uh... sorry. I just figured
having my first kiss before my first handjob would be a good idea.”
You can practically see him considering the morbid joke that it’s your second,
and shit, he wasn’t much livelier than number one, was he? But he decides
against it. “Kinda old-fashioned, but whatever slimes your Venkman. Give a guy
a little warning though, a Strider needs some prep time.”
Apparently, the purpose of Strider prep time is for the Strider to remove his
shades. You take off your glasses as well, and set them down on your bedside
table before attempting to do the kissy thing a second time, and wow, is it
ever different when the other person kisses back! Sure, your teeth are kinda in
the way, and Dave’s a little overenthusiastic with the tongue, and neither of
you really have any idea what you’re doing at all, but it feels good and nice
and a lot of adjectives you’re not used to applying to best friend activities.
Like, hot. Such scandalous thoughts make you groan into his mouth a little,
which makes him groan back, which you are definitely okay describing as hot.
For all that you make fun of Dave’s weird ironic hipster hobbies, years of
DJing have made him good a) with his hands, and b) at multitasking. As he is
currently demonstrating by getting back to his original goal of pulling your
pants down, without so much as a hiccup in the sloppy makeouts even when you
have to wriggle around a little to help him. It’s so weird when he’s genuinely
smooth. You’re a little disappointed the whole shebang’s being pulled down to
your knees in one go, because you were kinda hoping he’d get a good laugh out
of your Little Monsters boxers (alchemizing underwear with movies was your
other best idea ever), but it’s hard to be too let down with a nice warm hand
grabbing your newly freed business.
Physically, it’s not all that different from your own hand. You’ve got those
piano fingers, and Dave’s skin is a little rougher from all that hardcore sword
fighting, but a hand’s a hand. It must be the knowledge that it’s not only
someone else’s hand, but Dave Strider’s hand, that’s turning your bones into
the gooey stuff inside Gushers, only untainted by the Batterwitch’s malevolent
machinations. You break the kiss so you can slump forward against him, because
you seriously feel like you’re going to fall over, and you’re a little
surprised at just how needy you sound when you whine in the general direction
of his ear, “C’mon, Dave.”
“Patience, young Padawanton. The DJ will set the tempo.” The words are smooth,
but he must be a little surprised too, because you hear the strain in his
voice. Nonetheless, set the tempo he does, at too fucking slow beats per
minute. He’s handling your whathaveyou like it might break, and it’s not like
it feels bad, it’s actually really tender and wonderful, but you are desperate!
You need a little more than that mushy stuff.
“Dave, it doesn’t have ‘handle with care’ written on it.”
“Imagine that,” he chuckles, the speed of his ministrations infuriatingly
unchanged. He’s teasing you, the douchebag. You consider just punching him in
the arm to make him go faster, but... well, maybe there’s a more rewarding way
to get what you need. (Hehehehehe.)
“Daaaaaaaaave,” you moan in the sexiest way you know how. You’re pretty sure
it’s not all that sexy in the grand scheme of sexy things, but you figure it’s
sexy enough for your purposes by the way his steady beat stutters like an ill-
timed disc scratch. He recovers quickly enough, but now you know that you can
definitely get through to him. You angle your head to plant light kisses on his
neck, then all of a sudden you bite down hard. He jerks with a gasp that lowers
into a hum of appreciation as you suck at the tender skin, holy crap that’s
hot. It’ll definitely leave a mark; maybe you’ll lend him a turtleneck if he’s
nice. He collects himself and resumes his business with your business. He’s
definitely starting to give you what you want, but you can’t appreciate it for
long, you’re so greedy you can’t seem to help yourself.
“Fuck, Dave, please!” you plead, and don’t even need to affect the desperation,
the breathy little moans every time his hand moves just right, the way you
cling onto him like he’s the only thing in the world (which he pretty much is,
since you can’t see shit without your glasses), or how you keep thrusting into
his hand, trying to get more any way you can. He complies, lifting whatever
limits he’s set and going to town, you can’t see his face and you don’t trust
yourself not to fall over if you lean back to take a look, but it’s a
completely disheveled totally un-Striderly mess, and normally you’d laugh at
that, but it’s just more of a turn-on right now, and you can feel yourself
getting close, you can’t even be embarrassed that it took so little time,
you’re finally going to beat those fucking trolls, and--
Oh god fucking dammit why did you have to think of trolls? Your best friend was
jacking you off and it was perfect in every possible way and you had to go and
think of trolls. Now they’re watching you and being creeps and you can feel the
sexiness being sucked out of the room. Apparently, Dave can feel it too,
because he slowly loosens his grasp on your situation. You feel like you’re
about to cry.
“Trolls, huh?” he asks, panting.
“Yeah. I... sorry. All that for nothing. You can borrow a turtleneck,” you pant
back. Yet... he doesn’t seem like he’s quite finished. There’s a glint of
determination in his eyes. He has nice eyes.
“Mind if we try one more thing?”
“Go ahead,” you reply. You don’t mean to sound so listless. You do feel like
it’s a pretty useless endeavor, but anything’s worth a shot. He grabs your
shirt by the sleeves, and pulls it off. He then helps you to your feet (you’re
still kinda wobbly) and pulls your pants down the rest of the way. Finally, he
lays you down on your bed, and sits down beside you, still fully clothed.
“Now, repeat after me. Hey, trolls.”
“Hey, trolls.”
“I know you’re watching, so my lovely assistant Dave and I are gonna give you a
show.”
“I know you’re watching, so my lovely assistant Dave and I are gonna give you a
show.” Suddenly, you’re a little worried.
“I’m gonna look ten times more fuckable than anything in your piece of shit
universe.”
“I’m gonna look ten times more fuckable than anything in your piece of shit
universe.” Holy shit what is he doing? For that matter, what are you doing?
“And you can’t have me, alien scum.”
“And you can’t have me, alien scum.” Okay, you giggle a little at that one.
“Now flip off the invisible magic viewport camera.” You do so. “Excellent. Now
live up to your promise.” Your mind is racing. Put on a show? Ten times more
fuckable? You have no idea how fuckable the most fuckable thing in the trolls’
universe is, much less how to quantify fuckability. You’ve never really thought
of yourself as attractive. But before you know it, Dave’s back in the ring.
Round two, Dave Strider versus John Egbert’s uncooperative junk, fight.
Okay. You can do this. You can... think of it as a prank. You imagine Karkat
sitting at his computer desk, glowering at the gauntlet that has been thrown
down. TEN TIMES? WEIRD ALIEN RAMBLING THAT ESSENTIALLY BOILS DOWN TO
“IMPOSSIBLE, FLESHY HUMAN!” Well, maybe you’ll show him just what a fleshy
human can do.
You focus your eyes on Dave, who looks concerned until you arch up into his
touch. Then a hint of a smile appears, and he starts to really work your stuff.
Not hard and fast like before, you’ll let it build up naturally, make Karkat
really sweat. It occurs to you that it’s slightly weird to specifically imagine
Karkat, but pretty much everything about this is weird. Like Dave! You were
pretty sure he wouldn’t be totally impassive about all these shenanigans, but
you were driving him pretty wild before, and his face is indeed a total mess.
But it’s like, equal parts turned on and feelingsy! He keeps looking up at you
all concerned and fond and it’s kinda sweet. Is this romantic? You have no
idea, and your brain isn’t really in any condition to devote much thought to
it. Shh, only handjobs now.
You shift your focus back to the sexiness, trying to loosen your grip on those
inhibitions. You wriggle and writhe on the bed in a way that makes you feel
sort of silly, but it gets a choked squeak out of Dave, so it can’t be all that
bad. You close your eyes and try to picture Karkat, gripping the armrests of
whatever weird alien name he calls his chair, shaking in fury because he is so
turned on, and whoa you never thought of it that way why did you never think of
it that way. Your hips jerk into the air, you open your eyes, and Dave looks a
little smug, like he knows what’s going through your brain. You resist the urge
to stick your tongue out at him.
“Spread your legs, show ‘em a little ass.” That is pretty much the grossest
thing Dave has ever said to you, and Dave has said a lot of gross things to
you. Nonetheless, you acquiesce, spreading your legs and bending your knees to
give Karkat a nice complete view of your downstairs. There’s practically steam
coming out of his ears, he can’t take it anymore. He shoves his pants down to
get a hold of his weird alien junk that for the purposes of this fantasy looks
like human junk, only greyer. He doesn’t even hate you that way, he can’t
believe he’s been brought to this. Buddyship canceled, bye bye buddyship.
You let out something in between a laugh and a moan, and then you look at Dave
again and you’re finding it harder and harder to laugh at him. His hair is
sticking to his forehead, his breathing is almost as ragged as yours, and he
can’t stop staring at you with those eyes that are suddenly looking more hot
than plain old nice. It doesn’t just make you feel attractive, it makes you
feel ten times more fuckable than anything in anyone’s universe, which might be
a little presumptuous, but you don’t give a crap. You whimper, “Shit, Dave,”
and he sounds like he’s about to die. In a sexy way.
You notice him squirming, and your brain’s imagination department submits him
making a mess in his jeans, and then it’s Karkat not being able to reach a
bucket in time, and back in reality Dave’s being so vigorous it almost hurts
but it feels so awesome, and you’re almost there, you wait for the feeling to
suddenly disappear like it always does, but it doesn’t, it punches you in the
face.
A couple minutes later, you are coherent enough to determine that nothing
punched you in the face. The only thing that hit your face was your jizz, which
is kinda gross because it’s all over you, but you are not going to complain
because holy fuck that was fantastic. Maybe even worth the wait? Not in terms
of the physical sensation, but quite possibly in terms of how many Daves helped
you out.
Speaking of Dave, he returns from his trek to your bedside table with the
entire box of tissues. He wipes your face off first because he is a true
romantic. As soon as you’ve managed to get most of the jizz off, you hug him.
“You are the greatest. It’s you.”
“Shit, you’re gonna make me blush, John.” You laugh, because he’s already
blushing. And so rumpled, for someone who didn’t really move around all that
much. “So... mission accomplished. I’ll get out of your hair now.”
“Oh no you don’t!” you all but yell, standing up and reversing your positions
to throw him onto the mattress. It’s a little clumsy, but he plays along, just
lying there as you clamber up on top of him, leaning down to kiss him all hard
and passionate and stuff. When you break the kiss, you’re both grinning like
total dorks. You’re pretty sure this is romantic. Or at least, whatever passes
for romantic when it comes to you two. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m gonna
slime the heck out of your Venkman.”
“Gross, dude.” You kiss him again, eager to show him a little love. He’s waited
his turn long enough.
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