Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1751663.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Dad, John_Egbert/Dave_Strider, John_Egbert/Bro_Strider, Bro/
      Dad, John_Egbert/Dave_Strider/_Bro_Strider, John_Egbert/Dave_Strider/_Bro
      Strider/_Dad
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Dave_Strider, Bro_Strider, Dad_Egbert
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Anal, Domination, Age_Difference, Stridercest_-_Freeform,
      Egbertcest
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-06 Words: 3210
****** Always Yes ******
by TheMockingCrows
Summary
     James had never been able to say no to his son. When John grows
     older, however, he finds that he's not the only one answering the
     steady demanding tone that can only be answered with agreement.
“A-ah.. Higher. Higher, yes. YES, oh god, yes. Yes, just.. a-aaahhh... Ahhhh,
just.. Just keep going. FUCK.”
Simple phrases were giving way to noises and primal grunts now, heavy panting
and the wet slapping sound of skin on skin, the dull creak of bed springs.
Thank God the headboard didn't touch the wall at all. It would have been
chipping paint just from today alone. John was fairly certain he'd be hoarse
when this was over. Perfect. All the better to spend the night, throaty and
crackling on the phone. There were a few calls to make. A few favors to call
in.
His father, after all, loved spoiling his boy. Whatever John wanted, he got. Be
it a toy when he was younger, a kiss when he was older, and unquestioned access
to his father whenever he wished by the time he was old enough to have a valid
enough opinion on such things.
Flirting had taken ages, and had worn James ragged, unsure what to do. He
couldn't say no. Not to John. Not to his John. First had come the too long
hugs, the brief touches to his shoulders, unannounced entering into the
bathroom after a shower or when he was sure to be getting changed for work.
Then had come the brief kisses in the hallways or at night, John continuing
over and over to assert himself and his desires against the face that turned
away hesitantly.
That hadn't been flirting so much as a predator stalking its prey, the more
James looked back.
It hadn't only been him, either.
When John was old enough to start making his own decisions about his body, to
start dating, to have 'The Talk' even though it was apparently not needed at
all, he began seeking out others. James had been relieved, actually, to see
John leading his friend Dave home after school more and more often. Had felt
comforted as he heard the heavy breathing and shuddering sighs from behind
closed doors, started seeing hickeys on the side of his sons throat.
They were the same age. They were close. John seemed to wear the pants in the
relationship, bossy and headstrong, but the Strider boy seemed content to
follow the string that kept him neatly tied around John's slender fingers.
James baked treats to celebrate the growth of what he assumed was a normal
relationship and looked forward to the right time to give them over.
Then, John was no longer bringing only Dave home with him. Along on these
little jaunts came another blonde, a good deal older. Sketchy looking, from how
James viewed his dressing pattern. Related to Dave..? They had the same
jawline, the same nose, the same faint upturn at the edges of their almond
shaped eyes when they turned to the side, visible behind those sunglasses they
wore indoors.
He'd hoped the addition of another person in the room would at least clear
things up. Maybe slow down the hormones his son had been reveling in so
thoroughly.
James had been wrong.
The sounds were nightly now, and just as vigorous as before if not more. All
three of them seemed to be up to something, judging from the differences in
noises that filtered down through the ceilings of the white house from John's
room upstairs.
The older man barely made sound, but James could tell when he was active. Heavy
gestures and steps, harder hammers of the headboard smacking the wall, moans
and gasps from both teenagers. John's voice, though it had already dropped,
still wound up higher in pitch when he was... active. There was no way not to
recognize the voice of his son in the throes of sex when in comparison to the
noises of the two blondes that accompanied him. It became maddening.
What were they doing, precisely, that made him make those sounds? Was he
dominant somehow still as his attitude and posture seemed to dictate? Or was he
bottoming for either, or both of these men and calling the shots? Maybe it was
all a front and the flirting was just that: flirting. He'd been practicing on
his father before going out and making his choices. That had to be it.
That would be as far as it went: John leading the small Strider clan along to
his bedroom, not releasing either of the blonde's till long after his own
curfew would have been up outside of the house, then only to go shower and get
food and sleep.
Months that went on.
Months of scarce words with his own son, knowing that afternoons and evenings
were more than accounted for, trying to squeeze in all his fatherly duties and
his own needs in the mornings. Trying to distract himself in the evening, not
wanting to be chased out of his own home because of sexual frustration that his
son was causing him to experience.
James hadn't actually felt the need to masturbate this much since college, and
was growing more and more tense from how unsatisfying it was proving to be for
him.
Months of banging headboards and high, sweet moans.
Then, his sweet, loving son had taken the reins from him. Had he even held them
in the first place..? Or had John always been holding them, even as a child,
leading him along to do his bidding? The prodigal spoiled son with his eye on
some distant prize, come at last in the night with purpose.
The blonde's hadn't shown up for a few days, and John was starting to spend
more time downstairs in the evenings. Just like he used to. Dinner, some movies
on television together or just simple talk, catching up on time. Grades. Work.
Small talk. There came a night when James was just about to ask if John had
gone through a breakup or things had gone sour with the Striders, but thought
better of it.
That wording isn't quite correct however. There was nothing to think better of,
considering that before he was able to get the words out to his son he was
getting an open mouthed kiss. Those beautiful, talented hands he was so proud
of were busily tangling in his hair, carding through the salt and pepper
fondly. Keeping enough of a grip to steer his father closer if the grip on his
tie wasn't directive enough.
“Daddy,” he said when air was finally needed, dropping back into a childish way
of speaking that was discomfiting for James as he lifted a slender leg up and
over both the larger thighs in a solid straddle. “Why've you been ignoring me
lately?” There was a momentary pause before he leaned forward even further to
press foreheads, voice a whisper. “Haven't you been curious yet...?”
“..Curious about what, John?” he managed to croak. Was his voice that close to
cracking? Please, God, just keep his dick under control. Keep it down where it
was supposed to be, sleeping. A shower would fix this. Ice cold shower if heat
and his hand wasn't enough. Never enough now.
“About what I've been doing lately,” John said simply. His posture hadn't
changed an inch. That same, easy sit across his lap, the tug of a crisp tie,
the firm stroking of well maintained wiry hair. Possessive. He imagined John
would stroke an expensive pet the same way, holding it firmly before gliding
down its shoulders and back. Had the Striders allowed him to pet them that same
way?
“But.. We already discussed that earlier,” James stammered, trying to keep
focused. His son looked so different now, judging him despite his eyes being
soothing. Shoosh shoosh now, Papa, don't lie to me. He was absolutely certain
that somehow, some way, John could read his thoughts and look straight through
to his soul.
John snickered, almost a giggle. A strange sound to hear from him now that
puberty had hit and done away with such things. Unless he was causing the
headboard to bang behind closed doors, at least.
“Oh Daddy.” That word again. Danger. Danger. What was coming that was more
intense than what was already happening, John rocking his hips forwards slowly
and sensually, rolling the joints as if they were made only to do this to him
now. “I mean about everything else I've been doing.”
“I... Well, son. What -have- you been doing then?” Regain ground, quick,
please. The conversation was going further and further down the faster he tried
to keep control of himself. Controlling himself wasn't an option.
John had it all.
“Oh, a lot. I learned precisely how to make a man fall to his knees and beg,
for one. Age doesn't matter,” he was quick to clarify, adding in an extra
scritch to the wiry scalp he was stroking for good measure. Such a good father.
“Depends on how much ego is at stake.. It might be different if I topped much.
But for the most part I learned I can get a man to do precisely what I want.
When I want. How I want it. ...Isn't that interesting, Daddy? Are you proud?”
Proud? Proud to learn his son was claiming such things, despite knowing that
somehow, some way, they had been going on the entire time? Proud that he'd let
this continue under his roof without so much as a peep against it?
Proud that he wanted, in some deep part of his soul, to see it up close for
himself?
“... Yes. I suppose I am proud. I always am of you, John.” The sentiment almost
sounded pathetic in this situation, his son casually riding against his crotch,
trying to get its attention as he held his head. A straight forward snake
charmer, heavy on the charm. “I'm proud you learned what you.. well. What you
like, and want. I'm proud you're confident enough to attain what you want.”
John laughed then, pressing their foreheads together once more.
“Confidence doesn't mean anything when it comes to this, Daddy. See. I don't
have to be confident at all. So long as I know what I want, I know there will
be other people desperate to give it. I take my pick.. usually.”
He was pressing harder now with his fingers, tugging the tie harder with his
fist, showing a touch of anger. Frustration.
“You see.. USUALLY, I do get everything I want. Except with you.” The pressure
lessened, the anger ebbed. He was using his softer voice now, questioning. “Did
you never get curious, Daddy? Never wanted to see what I was doing? No fatherly
checks, or peeks? … No fatherly hot showers to try clearing your head at
midnight?”
Busted. Of course John knew, the sound of the shower was loud enough to be
heard damn near anywhere in the house, and it was always after his 'guests' had
departed.
“... John, what do you want me to even say?” James finally got out. “What do
you want me to do.”
There it was. The smile as the right words were said, and James was almost
certain he was feeling a noose tighten around his neck instead of the guide of
the tie.
“I want you to say, 'yes'. Say yes to whatever I want, same as always, Daddy.
Say yes to me. It'll make me happy.. and I'm more than sure I can make you
happy too.”
Had John always been able to purr like that, or was it only coming out as a
purr when he was this close and breathy and warm and oh sweet Jesus no, why was
his dick responding so eagerly to a simple sentence. This was wrong on so many
levels. He'd managed to resist, to keep away from the innocent flirting and
testing, been what he thought was a good role model. James was sure he'd been a
good father up till this point. Yet, there now stood the truth of his interest
after a single invitation from his son and the well practiced act of frottage,
an iron bar of discomfort that John seemed more than happy to dance against.
“Yes, then. Yes, John.”
God forgive him, he could never say no to John.
Since that time, when the flirting had given way to outright agreement, James
had learned that his son was not to be trifled with when it came to his words.
He'd not been putting on airs when he spoke of being able to make men beg, nor
of being able to make him happy.
By the first week, John had trained his father to kiss him back eagerly as a
love starved creature was possible whenever he wanted. By the second, he was
able to coax him down onto his knees, kissing his legs and feet, stripping
either himself or John down when desired.
By the third week, he was occasionally being touched, but never relieved. The
third week was Hell. The third week, the Striders came back, this time keeping
the door open for their guest of honor and a spare seat ready for him to enjoy
the show.
John had both men under his control, there was no doubting. Dave, more
noticeably. He seemed to enjoy being dominated, being bossed around, following
orders. It didn't matter if it was humiliating. If John ordered it, he obeyed.
This was how James first realized that, for at least some of the noises, John
had only been watching as the two blondes partook of each other on the twin
bed. For the rest, he was indeed receiving one of them and, in one amazing
instance that made him wince at the idea, John took both at the same time.
For being quiet, for listening to John's orders and not touching himself, James
was gifted relief by way of his sons loyal dogs. Dave took the lead with his
hands, a little unsure despite wanting to follow directions, considering whose
dick it was he was touching. Bro wound up butting him out of the way to take
over himself with his mouth, showing no such reservations. He was brash,
braver. Attractive with his mouth full and his fingers exploring, more than
happy to let his younger sibling go back to John's side to kiss at his neck.
It took over a month before John finally came forward to James with more
specific demands of him alone. Waiting to catch him after work in the living
room, already naked and asking his father to settle on his knees, giving
directions on where he wanted to be touched and tasted, orders on how fast or
far. Praise was Spartan, but to hear John happy was somehow the best thing in
the world.
James realized he really was living to keep John happy at this point. Always
smiling. The breathless cry of 'Daddy!' as he came, knees clenching at either
side of his head as he'd suckled him dry had been music. John was happy.
Everything was good, better than he'd ever imagined it could be.
Saying yes was so much easier than the years of trying to dance around the word
'no'. John was happy, cheerful, more open than he'd been in years. Meals were
made together now, and evenings spent curled up watching television in James'
bed. They showered together half the time, but often got distracted till the
water ran cold. The Striders were common guests, sometimes even staying whole
weekends by the time John had properly trained James in how he enjoyed sex, and
how he expected to be properly topped.
Throaty, hoarse as he had expected, John called Dave that night to plan ahead
of time. While he couldn't handle anything else this evening, he said, both he
and his father would be home and bored tomorrow. They'd adore some company, and
were even throwing a nice dinner into the meal. James had sprung for some
saffron earlier in the week, and was dying to try a new recipe with it, after
all. Who better to spoil with good food than their favorite playmates?
- - - - -
Dinner had been quick enough, though savored. James was satisfied in his role
of host, making sure everyone had plenty of everything. John had perfect table
manners, Dave kept his elbows off the table, and Bro seemed willing to keep the
conversation topics wholesome for once. Everyone was a member of the clean
plate club when John first stretched and headed upstairs without a word to
James' room. It was the only space big enough for all of them to move freely as
they wanted to, with no risks for injuries caused by the twin bed simply not
being designed to hold two fully grown adult men and two wiry teens who seemed
to still be all elbows.
No romance, no seduction, no sweet words. John had simply gotten up on his own
and left. The command to follow was absolute to the point that it never needed
to be mentioned. They all knew what he wanted, where he wanted it, and how he
wanted it. Knew he would give instructions, that smile, the praise.
Saying “Yes” to John was easiest to do, after all. Keeping him happy was the
best thing there was, and following his guidance and orders to get what he
wanted wound up with everyone else happy in their own ways.
Why, James wondered, had he ever wanted to say “No”?
Dave said “Yes” when John paired him off with James for the first part of the
evening, wanting to watch them together from Bro's lap on the other side of the
bed, reaching out with soft fingers to touch and stroke and pinch and slap as
he wished. James wound up with handmarks all over his ass, Dave with bruises
from bites even as things began to warm up and he grew frantic, all too eager
to tangle his lanky limbs with the thicker pair.
James said “Yes” when John asked him to let Bro join in then. It wasn't the
first time that James had been with Bro by then, and the two had formed a bit
of a rapport even when John wasn't leading the show. They were compatible in a
strange way, and moving together in any combination was pleasant. Were his son
not leading them both along like a well oriented ringmaster, he might have even
sought a more standard relationship with the man.
John didn't join in till he was good and ready, Dave already spent and
exhausted, trying to catch his breath as he lay on his side, James and Bro
still caught up in enjoying each other. That came to a rather abrupt end,
though neither party was very happy about it, Bro irritated and aching as he
moved to make room for the brunette.
He didn't even have to ask to know what John wanted to do, could feel the
familiar phantom noose around his neck. More precisely, he supposed, it should
be some kind of a bit in his mouth. John held the reins now. When his son moved
to part his legs and settle close, nudging insistently at his opening with his
thus far unattended erection, he wasted to time in answering.
“Daddy, can I-”
“Yes, John. Yes.”
Always yes.
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