
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/387065.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Dave_Strider
  Additional Tags:
      Marijuana, Frottage, Casual_Sex, Recreational_Drug_Use, Drugs, Underage
      Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-04-20 Words: 1686
****** ==> John and Dave: Engage in the Sloppiest of Stoned Makeouts ******
by Marty_(orphan_account)
Summary
     You don't feel anything for a while. He doesn't seem to, either.
     Then he's laughing, harder than you've ever seen him laugh before. He
     doesn't seem to know what he's laughing at, but you lean back and say
     his name, which gets him laughing harder.
     You're laughing because he's laughing. Or, you think you're laughing.
     Yeah, you're laughing. He's laughing with you, tears in his eyes as
     he tries to stop laughing and catch his breath.
Notes
     hey kids don't do drugs!!!
     on_tumblr
You don't know what makes you decide it's a good idea, but you say yes when
Dave asks you and then it's after school and you're sitting on his bed,
watching him light his bong and hold it out to you after he takes a long hit.
You stare at him for a moment, like you aren't sure what to do with it, and he
waves it at you, so you take it, just holding it and looking at it like it's a
new thing.
Well, it is a new thing. A thing you never really expected to be holding. Then
he hands you a lighter, and you give him a look that must say "what the fuck,"
because he shuffles closer to you, guides your hand. Then he lights it for you
and tells you what to do, and you listen to him, sucking heat and smoke into
your mouth and then into your lungs.
You want to gasp, to cough, to get it out of your system, but you don't. You're
tearing up and he takes the bong from your hands, takes another hit himself,
watching you to make sure you don't throw up all over his floor or something.
Then you breathe out, and your throat feels a bit sore, like you could use a
drink, but he finishes off the bowl and puts the bong down on the floor where
he got it from and lays back in his bed, leaning against the wall.
You don't feel anything for a while. He doesn't seem to, either.
Then he's laughing, harder than you've ever seen him laugh before. He doesn't
seem to know what he's laughing at, but you lean back and say his name, which
gets him laughing harder.
You're laughing because he's laughing. Or, you think you're laughing. Yeah,
you're laughing. He's laughing with you, tears in his eyes as he tries to stop
laughing and catch his breath.
He laughs again, then he talks. "John, wh-what the fuck am I la-laughing at?"
You shrug and put your hands on his shoulders, feeling a little bit dizzy.
Everything seems to slow down a little bit, too, and it's like you're looking
at everything through one of those shitty fisheye lenses.
You take your glasses off and lean over Dave to set them on his bedside table,
afraid you're gonna end up breaking them somehow otherwise. He does the same
thing with his shades, though, and then he's looking into your eyes. He's
tearing up from laughing so hard. He snickers, trying hard not to laugh again.
Then it seems like a good idea, so you lean in, slow, really slow—it seems
slow—and you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He makes a noise,
one that you think might be surprise, but you're pretty sure he's kissing you
back.
He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him, changing
positions so you can both lay your heads on his pillow. His mouth opens, just a
bit, so your mouth opens, too, and your tongue moves against his lip and he
makes a noise again, less like surprise and more like arousal, so you suck his
lip into your mouth
Everything feels almost too slow and too fast at the same time and it feels
like you've been kissing him for hours when he pulls away and rolls onto his
back, hand reaching down the side of his bed to retrieve the bong again.
He sits up and grabs an ashtray, and reaches over to grab the plate with the
weed on it. You feel like, if you move at all, if you even touch him, if you
even shift where you're laying, he's gonna spill it and probably punch you and
be infinitely pissed off, so you stay still, so still, watching him as he
empties the bowl and then packs another one. He takes the first hit, and you're
surprised at how much he can take, so you watch him with a detached sort of
fascination.
"John," he says, voice strained because he's trying to keep the smoke in his
lungs. "C'mere, wanna try somethin'."
You do, you lean in again and he grabs you by the hips and pulls you forward
more, seals his lips against yours and breathes into your mouth.
You almost pull away, but then you sort of half-realize what he's trying to do,
and you breathe in, wrapping your arms around his neck.
It feels nice, kissing him, so you don't stop, even after he's finished
breathing all the smoke from his lungs into yours. Your mouth opens to let his
tongue in, and he doesn't seem to mind at all.
You turn your head away, just a little, to breathe out, and he makes himself
busy kissing down your jawline, your neck, giving you a gentle bite. You must
have made a noise, because he leans back a little and looks at you, almost
confused.
"Kiss me again," you tell him, voice slow and quiet. Talking makes it feel like
you've got a mouthful of marbles but they disappear when he does kiss you,
replaced by his tongue. He moves everything off the bed again as he kisses you,
then pulls you with him as he lays down, hands on your hips and pulling your
body against his. You aren’t sure you’d have the coordination to not break and/
or spill everything, so you’re glad somebody does.
It's as he grinds his hips against yours that you realize just how hard you
are. How hard he is. He presses against you and you gasp, pushing against him
in response.
"John," he says, sounding breathless as he turns his face away from you. "John,
what the fuck are we doing?" He sounds like he's lost his high for a moment,
looking at you through eyes that don't look quite as glazed over as they did a
second ago.
"Havin' fun," your words are still slow when you talk, so he kisses you again,
like he's trying to shove his tongue all the way down your throat or something.
It should feel awful and ridiculous but it just feels so good and you're almost
a little bit dizzy so you cling to him and he wraps his arms tight around your
waist.
"Y'sure?" You almost start to laugh again because he sounds so Texan when he
gets stoned, but you just nod and press your lips to his again. You untangle
your fingers from his hair and grab his hips, pulling him against you.
"What d'you want me to do?" You sound like a bit of a tool, mumbling into the
kiss, words that probably don't quite sound like words.
"Whatever you want."
Almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, your hand is working at his
belt and he's gasping and doing the same to you, undoing your belt and then
your fly. His hands seem like they move too quick, and you watch him for a
second as he reaches into the front of your boxers and pulls you out, fingers
wrapping around your dick without hesitation at all. Your own hand stills until
he gives you a peck on the lips and then you're moving again mimicking his
actions and shoving your hand into the fly of his boxers.
A vague, fleeting thought tells you that you'll regret this as soon as you
aren't high anymore. You ignore it, pretty much think-tell it to go fuck
itself, and buck into Dave's touch.
"John, fuck," he's kissing you again, mouth rough against yours as your hand
starts to speed up in pace. It gets easier to do when you focus on it—kissing
him, no matter how much you like it, slows you down, even stops you. He doesn't
mind. You do.
After a while where you just touch him, and he just touches you, he bats your
hand away from his cock, tugs you close to him by the hip, and wraps both hands
around your dick and his, squeezing himself against you and bucking into the
touch at the same time as you do.
You don't want to focus on anything else aside from that exact feeling, but he
kisses you again, a little bit of teeth and a lot of tongue and a hell of a lot
of want. You kiss him back just as hard, trying not to shift your focus totally
away from the attention your cock is getting.
It isn't even a minute (or, it doesn't feel like it) before it's too much and
you're losing it, coming into his hand and onto his sheets. He finishes only a
moment later, both hands still around your dick and his.
"Oh fuck," is all he says, breath coming in quick little bursts as he wipes his
hands on the sheet behind him. He pulls his comforter up and works it
underneath you, between you, covering the spot on his sheets where you both
came.
"Dave," is all you can say, and it sounds funny in your voice, and you wrap
your arms around his neck and give him another kiss, innocent and without even
parting your lips a little.
You want to tell him that that was really weird and you're really sorry and
that it might have been a mistake and that you are really fucking stoned but
you just give him another peck on the lips.
"...I wanna pass out," is what you manage to say, and he lets a little smile
onto his face.
"Me too, man. Pizza later?"
"Y'don't gotta ask."
You don't even really pass out—just drift in and out of what feels like
consciousness. You know you aren't actually passing out—just having long
moments where you aren't sure what the fuck's going on and you don't especially
care, and shorter moments where you're kissing Dave again and hooking a leg
over his hip and just holding him.
It's a nice feeling.
You decide, maybe, that you want to do this again.
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