
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/394839.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Jake_English/Dirk_Strider
  Character:
      Jake_English, Dirk_Strider
  Additional Tags:
      Hallucinations, Masturbation, Sleep_Deprivation, Drabble, Fingerfucking
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-04-30 Words: 2217
****** Lucid ******
by eggjam
Summary
     Jake can't see the Dirk he wants, the real one, but he sees one in
     his dreams. Of course, this Dirk is different, evolved. This Dirk
     keeps him awake at night with dark promises, haunts him until he
     can't tell what's real and what isn't.
                                    "Jake."
                                        
He sits bolt upright in his bed, cold and damp with sweat. His hair is sticking
to his neck, and his is heart hammering, leaving him nauseated. The darkness in
his room presses down on him, and he stares at nothing but empty space with
wide eyes, listening. Only the jungle, makes a sound, alive with the dangerous
opus of prowling nocturnes. The monsters he can face, and the dark does not
scare him, but that voice keeps him terrified and running from sleep until he
can't keep his eyes open anymore. With effort because his arms are shaking
uncontrollably, he peels the skulltop from his head and drops it. It skitters
loudly across the floor. Jake had fallen asleep without noticing, and of course
Dirk had been there waiting for him, just at the edge of his subconscious where
he's been lingering for days. Reclining like a snake on the bed, all sultriness
and infuriating patience, he'd climbed on top of Jake and leered down at him
expressionlessly.
The memory is searingly fresh and has him squeezing at the sides of his head to
keep the voice out. It's been following him even in his waking hours, and he
isn't sure if the refusal to sleep has him hallucinating that it's real or if
the desire is so strong that he can't suppress it anymore. He's hard in his
pants.
 
                         "You'll squeal. Like a pig."
                                        
It's Dirk, but it isn't. Dirk would never solicit him this way. No, this Dirk
is his Dream Dirk, the one he invented, which makes it worse, makes his stomach
clench and his vision swim because he's doing this to himself. On some level,
he wants this, because if he didn't it wouldn't be happening. That voice keeps
talking. It's a gruff whisper, a promise, a threat, something looming that's
infected his body as well as his mind. Every inch of him burns when he hears
it, and when it continues on, when he thinks he really can feel those gloved
fingers running up the ridge of his spine again, as they do when he falls
asleep, he springs away from the mattress, calling his guns from his sylladex
and pressing his back to the wall. Push pins holding his posters in place dig
into his back, and he can't stop the shaking, aiming blindly into the emptiness
of his room with both pistols. The hair on his arms and neck stands on end, and
his sweaty grip falters when he feels a touch to his neck, a nip of teeth, and
something malicious snarls on the other side of the wall. He jostles his guns
and spins, blasting a bullet that through one of the bright red baubles topping
his bedposts.
                                        
   "You'll moan and you'll scream and you'll beg for me until your voice is
                         wrecked and you cough blood."
                                        
Knowing he's imagining it doesn't make it any better, and he drops the pistols
to the floor limply, sliding down the wall and pulling his shirt over his head
because he's delirious from lack of sleep, boiling in his own skin, and so hard
it hurts. He's been fighting tooth and nail to keep it back, but it's been
relentless to the point that he's considered telling Dirk about it. Maybe that
would stop it, and the idea that it could is almost enough to convince him, but
if it didn't work then he'd have to deal with both Dream Dirk's attacks and
Real Dirk's awkward confusion, and he doesn't think he could take that, not
when he knows now how he feels about the real one.
                                        
                               "Do you get it?"
                                        
His fingers are on his belt, and he grits his teeth, fumbling with the buckle
until he gives up impatiently and forces his pants down without taking it off.
It's tight, and it scrapes his thighs, but once they're off, caught around one
booted ankle, he wraps a hand around himself, sighing at the contact, and puts
the other in his mouth. Ghost fingers trail up the inside of his thighs, and
the goosebumps that follow in their wake are a product of as much fear as they
are want. He's losing his mind. He knows it.
                                        
                          "Do you get it yet, Jake?"
                                        
He sucks the long finger in the middle of his hand, wrapping his tongue around
it, biting down on the lowest knuckle in desperation while the other hand
strokes himself up and down, twisting at the base before sliding back up and
circling the head with his thumb. The darkness has eaten the rest of his
bedroom, and it's looking for a way to let the monsters in.
                                        
                            "I want you in agony."
                                        
A gust of insistent breath is cool against his hot, wet shaft and leaves him
keening, pulling the leg that isn't caught in his pants up toward his chest,
and his head falls back against the wall, landing too hard and sending a
painful throb from his skull to his shoulders, reminding him how tender he is
because he hasn't been sleeping.
                                        
  "I want you to agonize over how good I make you feel until it buckles your
knees, has you clinging to me, begging for me, needing it until everything you
       are is pleasure and your thighs are dripping, sticky with want."
                                        
He's burning alive. Dirk's voice in his head - not his ears, it's all twisted
up inside with his thoughts -, his phantom touches and Jake's own are
overwhelming him entirely. His head lolls to the side, and he tries to calm his
breathing before he faints.
                                        
                     "First, I'll take you with my mouth."
                                        
Groaning, he pulls his finger from his mouth and shifts when he feels lips on
his own, warm air and tingles, sense memory. After he momentarily presses his
lips back without thinking, he shakes himself out of it and scoots until he's
facing the side of his bed. Then he leans forward, resting his forehead against
the rumpled folds of the comforter hanging over the side, and reaches back with
his spit-slicked finger. Ghosts are coming for him. Phantoms have him at their
mercy.
                                        
"I'll tear your underwear off with my teeth, and then I'll swallow you whole."
                                        
Two fingers are too much for the moment, but one is enough for what he wants
anyway, and when he's pushing back against it, finding something inside him
that jellifies the entire lower half of his body when he runs his fingertip
over it, has his hips jerking forward and shuddering in eager response. His
wrists seem to lose their strength, and the speed of his strokes slows in favor
of fingering himself. This is wrong, this is terror, this all the bad things
being in his head where he can't get away from them, and it's his friend who's
haunting him, whose trust he's abusing by disrespecting his image.
                                        
  "You'll cry because I tell you to cry. Then, I'll turn you over, spread you
open, and fuck you with my tongue until your body collapses, and all you can do
 is quiver and clutch at the sheets, the wall, the dirt in the pumpkin patch,
                               wherever I say."
                                        
His teeth grind against the comforter. He's gagged himself with a mouthful,
trying to quiet his own noises because the creatures outside can hear him.
They're circling his bedroom, dragging their claws and rattling against the
walls. He's feeling lightheaded and too hot, pumping himself as fast as he can
with his lax grip and trembling fingers.
                                        
"You'll give yourself to me completely, soon enough, because I want you broken
so well on a wrack of desire that you can't even smell the leather of my gloves
                     without reaching to touch yourself."
                                        
With a whimper, he lets the comforter fall from his mouth and feels sweat roll
down the ridge of his spine, tickling, and he thinks he can smell that leather.
                                        
  "When you're wet as I want you, I'll kiss you where it gets you flushed and
  embarrassed, just so you know you're mine, how futile resisting me is, and
                           start in with my hands."
                                        
"Fuck, Strider, please," he asks, hoping he'll either help or go out and kill
whatever night thing is walking with loud, heavy feet across the roof, looking
for a way to get inside. Dirk does neither, and there's a loud crash when the
beast finds its way to him, stands at his back, and growls in his ear. He snaps
his head around to stare at it.
Only the dark.
Something else drags its nails over his hot flesh, and there's a hand around
the base of his shaft that squeezes so hard it hurts. He yelps, swiveling back
around to tell Dirk to stop, but he's not there. He's behind him and shirtless,
pressed against Jake's back, dwarfing him because he's inescapable now.
                                        
"I'll scrape and scratch and finger. I might caress if I get the urge, but this
is going to be rough. You'll hurt because this is a lesson. I'll teach you what
          you can't live without. You don't know yet, but you will."
                                        
Dirk's hand presses down on his shoulder, forces him down, and there are two
fingers inside him now. He moans and tosses his head back to lean against
Dirk's chest, but he's moving around in the room again, and Jake can't see him.
                                        
   "When I've taught you the ABCs, we'll move on to the XYZ of the matter."
                                        
It sounds like the entire island is surrounding his bedroom now, and his head
is pounding, pulsing as painfully as the rest of his body. There isn't enough
air in the whole world, and he's falling forward against the mattress again.
His body heat is reflected back to him, overheating and leaving him drenched
and struggling not to let the unbearable, painful crackling lights behind his
eyes pull him under before he finishes, before he gets eaten.
                                        
 "You'll use your own hands to undress me, salivating and pulling out my dick,
and I'll let you run your tongue over every bulging vein until you're satisfied
  because looking at me makes you so eager, so hungry. I won't blame you. I'm
                           pretty famished myself."
                                        
Wild things with terrible intentions are everywhere. The one in his room,
standing over him in every direction, coercing him from all four corners and
the bottom of the staircase scares him the most, but he still wants to be
touched, handled like Dirk says he will be. It's shameful. "I'm sorry, Dirk,"
he says to the one who can't hear him.
                                        
"When it's enough, I'll push you back, get you on your hands and knees or pull
your thigh over my shoulder. Then, I'll fuck you like you deserve it, hard and
 attentive until I'm tired, but you won't be satisfied, so I'll put you on top
 and let you do the work, have you ride me until you're a boneless, brainless
                                    mess."
                                        
He's hyperventilating as he works himself from both ends, crazy with the
pleasure piquing in every neglected hollow of him. Whether he's dying or
coming, he feels disgusting, incredible, and close to death.
                                        
  "Pretty soon, you'll break the way I want you to be broken, the way only my
   body gives you what you need to keep breathing, and of course I've got an
                                   agenda."
                                        
His fingers curl and twist, in and out, and he drives himself back on them,
feeling the air stir beside him as Dirk sits down, running a long finger under
his chin and shaking off the drop of sweat he takes away.
                                        
 "If it's the only way I'm allowed to have you, I will use desire as an excuse
              and leave your body in ruins to get to your heart."
                                        
Turning to face him, Jake closes his eyes because he knows that Dirk will run
away again, if he thinks he might be seen, and swallows a mouth full of thick,
syrupy saliva, feeling the need between his thighs sharpen to a needle point
that wants to pop him. He's close.
                                        
                     "I will fuck you until you love me."
                                        
This is bodily, material, tactile. It's not love; it's heady and insulting, and
even the roaring, gnashing island monsters clamoring for blood in the humid
jungle all around him know it. He's frantic, terrified because things he can't
see can see him and make him feel, and they can dangle possibilities, desires,
over his head so effectively. Darkness, ghosts, monsters, and rippling heat
from all sides stress his body like a rubber wire pulled taut and vibrating on
the brink of snapping back.
                                        
 "You can scream from the pleasure, or you can scream from the fear. Which is
                         irrelevant, but scream now."
                                        
He does, and the orgasm tears out of him so hard it has him falling over on his
side, pressing his red face to the floor because he's so hot he thinks he can
feel the tiles warping from the heat. Dirk's shoes tap slowly against them,
wandering around his room now and banging on the walls, teasing the furious
monsters who are all crying out in a frenzied cacophony. The dark covers him
like a blanket, shushing him and lulling him into a sleep that will only bring
more of this, a lucid, yearning nightmare.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
