
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1082100.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Dave_Strider, John_Egbert/Alpha_Dave_Strider
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Dave_Strider
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, (john_is_16_dave_is_in_his_20s_or_30s), Spanking, Nipple
      Play, Vibrators, Dirty_Talk, (a_little), Size_Difference
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-14 Words: 2369
****** Quicksand ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     "My dialogue would be fantastic," you say. You suck a tiny bruise
     into the thigh you’re holding, hide your grin as he tenses up. "Shit,
     it’d be so good I could probably score someone who didn’t require
     constant lines of cash like a goddamn coke addict."
     "Maybe even someone legal. That would be a disaster!"
     --
     alpha/older dave + cute asshole bottom john pwp
Notes
     this is mindblowingly self-indulgent.
See the end of the work for more notes
 
"Unclench."
You’ve got one hand on his thigh and another rubbing circles into his hip while
he adjusts, and somewhere past the blown pupils and bruised lips you get the
impression that he’s glaring at you. Trying to, anyway. John’s not really one
for schooling his emotions, no matter how many he’s experiencing at once.
Case in point. “I don’t like this,” he says point-blank, wriggling a little in
discomfort until you press him back down into the mattress. “Are you sure you
used enough lube?”
"Relax." But you take enough pity on him to give his dick a few non-committal
tugs — taking a vibe for the first time isn’t exactly easy, you guess — and
when you swipe away the pre at his cockhead he manages to relax a bit. "There’s
enough lube down there to send an entire brigade of old clunkers gliding down
the interstate like a pack of fuckin dolphins."
He laughs at you; he’s not quite used to the vibrator enough to cut into a moan
when you jerk it inside him, but it does make his breath catch. “I’m starting
to see why you don’t—” He arches a little and takes a second to breathe; you
use the opportunity to palm yourself through your boxers. You knew this was a
good idea. “—write the dialogue in your movies.”
Well that wasn’t very nice. You flick the vibrator up a setting and watch his
body seize up a little in confusion, the bruise-spattered pronunciation of his
collarbone suddenly starker against his skin.
"My dialogue would be fantastic," you say. You suck a tiny bruise into the
thigh you’re holding, hide your grin as he tenses up. "Shit, it’d be so good I
could probably score someone who didn’t require constant lines of cash like a
goddamn coke addict."
"Maybe even someone legal. That would be a disaster!"
There’s no bite to it, but you opt to play along anyway. “Hey, if you’re too
intimidated by—”
You’re cut off by a moan, loud and sweet; he arches off the bed and tries to
hold himself there, bucking against the air in some desperate attempt at
friction. You grin wolfishly. “Well would you look at that.”
You give him a few more thrusts with the vibrator (“Shit, Dave, right there,
come on—”) until he shoves the knuckle of his index finger into his mouth, and
shit, the look of him blissed out to the point of trying to hold himself back
is close to downright filthy. “Still not liking the vibrator?”
The groan he gives is somewhere between annoyed and desperate, and fuck, you
knew he’d like this, you knew he’d come around to the idea of being attended to
while you weren’t technically getting yourself off yet. “Shhh-shut up, Dave, oh
my god do you ev— oh god oh god—”
You hitch his leg over your shoulder and lean up to press a sloppy, open-
mouthed kiss to the shaft of his dick, and you swear to god he
literally keens, arching up into the heat of your mouth as his fingers turn to
talons in your hair and—
The buzzing stops.
"No," he says. His body is coiled so tightly you think he might burst, a solid
block of lead splayed out over the covers. "Oh no, oh no oh no ohno ohno Dave
what the fuck did you do oh my god I was so close what the fuck—”
"You were the one who wanted to be edged," you remind him as ease the vibe out
of him. He winces at the loss.
"Wh—? I wanted a new 3DS. The edging was your idea.”
You roll your eyes. “Semantics.”
"Dave, shit, I was right there you fucking dickweed, I swear to god. Just."
"You are such a fucking brat, Christ." And hey, look at that fluorescent
fucking lightbulb smacking you in the face with its eco-friendly agenda. "Come
here."
John goes from derisive begging straight to apprehension, then, the cogs
screeching to a halt so tentative you can’t even see the irritation on his face
anymore. “What?”
"I said come here."
He scrambles slowly into sitting position, his erection flagging a little as he
does. Yeah, that’s not going to be lasting long. You swing your legs over the
side of the mattress and pull him over your lap, his face buried in the down of
the comforter as you position him over one knee. He’s got a fantastic ass,
plump and round and so different from the conglomerate of angles that make up
the rest of him, and come on, you really can’t help it.
When your palm comes down on his ass for the first time, you think he shudders
more from the sound of it than the (pretty mild) sting itself; you don’t rub
the skin until you’ve slapped it again, harder this time, and he moans for you,
harsh and ragged. “I think you’re forgetting who’s calling the shots, here,”
you say lightly, and it’s all just words, because you don’t have half the power
over him that he does over you and you wouldn’t want it anyway, but when you
talk like this he practically curls into your lap, bringing one hand between
himself and the mattress to thumb at his nipples and oh god.
You smack him again and he actually gasps when you rub the skin gently
afterward, letting out a little sob as you let one finger brush down against
his still-slick hole. If he’s said it once he’s said it a million times, I’m
not a flower, Dave, I can take a little pain, and you think you know what he
means, now, because you can see him licking his lips sluggishly out of the
corner of your eye and you don’t really know if you could hold back at this
point.
You move the hand currently holding him steady in your lap until you’ve got two
of the fingers inside him; the position’s a little awkward, but if the way he
sobs fully this time is of any indication, he doesn’t really notice. He
clenches down when you smack his ass again, hard enough that he could take your
fucking fingers off, Jesus, and you purposefully avoid his prostate as you
thrust your fingers in.
"And stop rutting against my thigh," you say, and you’re proud of how
nonchalant you manage to sound with a boner the size of the South Pole tenting
in your boxers. "You’re sixteen, not twelve, you’re not gonna die if you don’t
come in the next two minutes."
He moans, and you bring your hand down again for good measure before grabbing
the lube off the nightstand, managing to squeeze a little more around the two
fingers you’ve got in his ass before adding a third. That does the trick,
apparently — he splutters into the comforter as he pushes back against you,
practically writhing when you hit his prostate head-on, and shit, okay, game
over, John may not die if he doesn’t come in the next two minutes but you most
definitely will.
"That’s enough," you breathe as you pull him off your lap, gentle in spite of
your recent reprimands. After you wipe the lube on your fingers (gross) off on
his stomach, you shuck off your boxers as quickly as you can — shit, finally —
and toss them to the side, reaching for a condom off the bedside table and—
"No," John says, and apparently he’s gained enough self-control to reassemble
the usual demanding attitude (if a little shakily). For all that, his eyes are
wide and surprisingly earnest considering how blown back his pupils are; you
can’t quite not lick your lips when you note the needle-thin tear tracks
ribboning off his cheekbones. "I want. I want to feel you."
Tempting as that offer is. “No way in hell, kid,” you say, tearing it open with
your teeth. “Can’t risk your pretty little ass getting all crab infested or
some shit. Besides, the teenage pregnancy stigma isn’t something you want to
live with for the rest of your life.”
"Fine." He’s huffy, but when he takes the unwrapped condom from your hand he
doesn’t toss it aside. He slides down, legs still shaking, and positions it
over the head of you dick. "At least let me put it on."
Well shit.
John is really, really fucking good at giving head — he should be, with all the
times he suckers you into buying him something that way, the little bastard —
and while that isn’t exactly the intention here, he’s still got his mouth on
your dick and even through the latex it’s crushing in its warmth and god, god,
god, he lets you fuck his mouth a couple of times, only gagging a little the
first time you slide down his throat. He can’t quite take all of you, because
for all his talk he’s still only sixteen and maybe 120 pounds soaking wet, but
his lips look so pretty wrapped around your dick as you force his head down,
and he hums around you and o-kay, if you don’t pull him off your dick right now
you’re going to bust a nut down his throat.
He’s grinning as you pull him back into your lap, slicking your dick with your
free hand and then re-lubing his ass. “Good boy,” you breathe into his ear as
he clenches around the head. There’s an urge to buck up, to thrust, to
do something, but he’s burying his face in your neck and clawing down your back
and you need him to know how good he’s doing, how good he always does. “So
good, always taking my cock without complaining, keeping so close to quiet
during your punishment, you’re so good, John, you’re so.” He whimpers as he
slides further down, and you suck more bruises into his neck, because in the
end he’s yours and every mark on his body is yours, just like the scratches
down your back that will be silver by morning are his.
"Dave," he says, and you’re finally seated within him; for the first time since
last week’s rendezvous you’re acutely aware of how much smaller he is than you;
you can feel the bones in his arms as they tighten around you, the skininess of
his thighs as they seize up in brackets around your hips, how tight he is every
single time and you’re going to lose it before you even really start, going to—
"Dave," he repeats, voice hoarse. It brings you down to earth a bit. He shifts
a little, using your shoulders as leverage to push himself up and ease back
down, his dick leaving thin little trails of pre-come up and down your abdomen
as he moves. He’s still adjusting, not quite at the right pace yet; your nails
leave blunt little indents at his hips where they dig into the skin, and you
just.
He shudders as he increases speed, and “Okay, D-Dave I think you can— ah — move
now.”
And who are you to say no to that.
John practically keens when you lift him by the hips and slam him back down,
his back arching as he sucks in a breath. “Come on,” he urges, rocking his hips
to meet your thrusts. Every breath is a pant, harsh and ragged against his
throat, and one of his hands moves down to thumb your nipple. Fuck. “Fa-aster,
god, Dave, please—”
You fucking groan as you lean down, taking one of his nipples into your mouth,
rolling the nub between your teeth as he gasps into your hair. You’re fucking
him at an absolutely ruthless pace, and he’s perfect, smooth and tight and
clenching more every minute, and you pull him closer as he shakes, reaching one
hand between you to stroke his dick. It twitches in your hand almost
immediately; he lets out the fucking neediest cry you’ve ever heard from him as
you start to jerk him off, letting him fuck your hand and you move back up to
kiss his jawline, and if you don’t want to be majorly embarrassed you’ve gotta
end this now.
"T-that’s it, babe," you say, biting just below his jawline for good measure.
"Come on, now — w-why don’t you come for me?"
He absolutely seizes around you, and all he can say is your name, locked up
from the neck down as he mindlessly fucks himself on your dick; it takes all of
three seconds for him to splatter both of your stomachs with come, soundtracked
by the sluttiest little goddamn cry right in your ear, and he’s so tight you
can barely move, clenched down and whimpering with how oversensitive he is as
you thrust up and up and up until you fucking explode, pulsing over and over
again from the force of your own orgasm to the point that you’re actually
gripping him to you, but fuck fuck fuck you don’t care because holy shit—
He squeaks a little when you pull out, watching you tie off the condom with
half-lidded eyes. He looks so loose-limbed and well-fucked lying back on your
bed like that, it’s fucking criminal; you rummage through the drawer of the
bedside table until you find the wipes, and you clean him up gently as he comes
down from his orgasm.
"Love you," you mumble as you lie down beside him, pulling the blankets over
both of you as you pull him to your chest. Sometimes you like to make him hot
chocolate or something after this sort of ordeal, but right now you kind of
just really want to hold him. Too much to be assed to get to the kitchen
anyway.
He hums contentedly as he practically jellifies against you; his hair is a
little wet, dampened by sweat, but it still smells nice under your nose and you
kiss the back of his head. “Love you too, loser,” he says. For a second, you
think you feel a spark of interest revive his currently decimated nervous
system, but it doesn’t seem to hold. “Hey, does this mean I can have that new
3DS.”
"Go the fuck to sleep, John."
End Notes
     tumblr_mirror!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
