Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/270716.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Bro/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      Dave_Strider, Bro_(Homestuck)
  Additional Tags:
      Incest
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-10-30 Words: 7296
****** For all Ironic Purposes ******
by ZeeCatfish
Summary
     It was hard growing up living in the same house as the man he
     definitely had a homo-crush on and being seen as nothing more than a
     little brother. It was hard, and nobody understood. Even so, Dave was
     almost certain those eyes lingering on his Superman briefs-clad ass a
     bit longer than they should were not just a figment of his
     imagination his brain projected on the current situation out of
     longing, or whatever Lalonde would be telling him right about now if
     he had been on pesterchum.
     Fuck psychoanalysing flighty broads and their theories on brother-
     complexes and how they aren't healthy. This was definitely a good
     thing, and it needed to be exploited. Even if this intriguing choice
     in fetish made his brother just a little bit less cool.
Notes
     Originally written for the kink meme.
The first time he did it it was for ironic purposes. Or so he told Bro, because
telling the person he looked up to the most that the actual reason he was
walking around wearing John's stupid, childish clothes was because he lost to
Egderp in a drinking competition while he stayed over for a week was so
incredibly not cool. Never mind that he was fifteen and not even the laid-back
Bro Strider was cool with the idea of having kids snoop around in his liquor
cabinet.
Interestingly enough waddling around in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt,
(where did John even /get/ that shit?) did what being ironic and cool and adult
and all those other impressive things Dave tried so very hard at never quite
managed: make Bro stare at him.
It was hard growing up living in the same house as the man he definitely had a
homo-crush on and being seen as nothing more than a little brother. It was
hard, and nobody understood. Even so, Dave was almost certain those eyes
lingering on his Superman briefs-clad ass a bit longer than they should were
not just a figment of his imagination his brain projected on the current
situation out of longing, or whatever Lalonde would be telling him right about
now if he had been on pesterchum.
Fuck psychoanalysing flighty broads and their theories on brother-complexes and
how they aren't healthy. This was definitely a good thing, and it needed to be
exploited. Even if this intriguing choice in fetish made his brother just a
little bit less cool.
So the next time he ditched the coolkid persona to wear a lame silly-printed
shirt and kid-department underwear it had nothing to do with alcohol or insane
friends, though if anyone were to actively ask he'd still plead irony because
having shit like this hurt his reputation on the long run was not awesome at
all. Bro doesn't ask though. He just stands in the doorway with his eyebrows
raised a tiny bit and Dave congratulates himself because it's not every day he
manages to get the best of Bro Strider.
The third time he forewent the cartoon-theme and stole one of Bro's shirts. Bro
came back home late that evening, and being weary and at least somewhat drunk
from whatever gig he'd been at lowered his stoic facade enough for Dave to get
definite confirmation that walking around their apartment in Bro's too large
shirt and ironic, heart-print boxers had an effect on his older brother. The
retreat into the bathroom to not so subtly jack off kind of effect.
From that point onwards Dave made it a point to wear something stupidly
childish only on the weekend. Overexposure might help his brother build up
immunity, he reasoned with himself, and Bro tended to be drunk throughout most
of saturday and almost all of sunday and while his brother wasn't an all out
slurring, unable to walk straight drunk, he was easier to catch of guard.
Rose religiously told him he was being an idiot and that this would never work
every friday. Jade never was too big on 'normal' social values and whatnots and
just wished him luck. John, being the hopelessly romantic derp he was had
actually decided he'd help him, because apparently forbidden love was the best
kind and somehow Dave just couldn't bring himself to be surprised.
So when he received a blue-wrapped package over mail on his sixteenth birthday,
he knew right away that whatever was in there was probably something that
should supposedly help him get into his brother's pants.
He really didn't want to know how John knew his measurements well enough to
make him pink, bunny themed footie pyjamas though. While he wasn't sure if he
could pass wearing something like that off as ironic should his brother decide
to ask and there was something really embarrassing about the idea of walking
around in those things, in between John putting so much effort into making it
for him -wasting so much time on lame shit like this, not cool dude…- and his
own curiosity about how Bro would react there was just no way he could not
start scheming.
That saturday night he piled a heap of his own blankets and pillows on his
Bro's futon and nestled himself into it with an old stuffed dog he'd found in
the back of his closet (the only stuffed anything he could find that wasn't
defined by plush puppet rump and suggestively phallic shapes noses, because
that would just not fit the image he was trying to project here) and a cup of
hot milk the moment Bro texted him he'd be home in a few minutes. He made sure
the stupid movie he'd gotten per John's advice was on the supposedly intense
part and tried to look like he was actually interested in what was on the
screen.
There were shuffling noises outside of the doorway and he could hear the
telltale clinking of keys turning in the lock before his brother stumbled
inside looking a little more sober than Dave had hoped for, but at least he
didn't look like he'd been having toilet-stall sex with strangers in the club
he'd been DJ-ing at that night.
He was very glad he hadn't taken off his shades like John told him he should
because at least this way he actually got to see his brother freeze upon seeing
him without giving away that he was watching.
"Dave," Bro said, voice betraying nothing. "Finish your lame movie tomorrow
kid. I need my bed back." If he hadn't been watching the older Strider for
reactions so closely over the past few weeks Dave might have been fooled into
thinking he wasn't affected. Of course, the lack of strifes over the past few
weekends already sort of betrayed the effect his actions were having on Bro
anyways, but that was just a nice bonus on the side.
Dave made a show out of yawning and stretching, giving off a glimpse of what he
was wearing before retreating back into his warm, fluffy cocoon of blanket and
putting on his most childish voice all the while firmly telling himself he was
doing this for a good cause. "But Bro, I don't wanna go to bed yet."
His whine was stupidly exaggerated and Dave was almost sure Bro would catch his
bluff and kick him off the futon but the older Strider just stood and stared,
almost unnerving in his lack of movement until there was the slight bob of his
adam's apple when he swallowed.
"What the fuck are you drinking anyways, dude?" Bro asked gruffly as he plopped
down next to the mountain of blanket, looking annoyingly unruffled and making
Dave even more determined to get a rise out of him.
"Milk. Want some?" he held out the ironic moe anime mug while trying to pretend
he was still watching the movie without alerting Bro that he had absolutely no
eye for bad cinema when there was hot Strider ass to be ogled right next to
him.
There was a pause while Bro gave the mug an unimpressed look before he turned
back to Dave, one eyebrow raised in silent demand for an explanation because
this was just not something that happened in the Strider household.
Of course, Dave couldn't answer him because he couldn't see his brother's
raised eyebrow. He was very busily watching his very lame movie after all.
Which seemed to be the love-child resulting from an illicit affair between an
action thriller and a parody of Lord of the Rings with some of John's actor
crushes sprinkled over it. He shouldn't have expected any different from
something recommended to him by the king of derp himself.
The mug of milk was plucked out of his hands and placed on the floor and then
Bro turned off the tv. "I know you kid, there is no way you're watching that
crap, not even ironically. What's really up?"
Of course it was stupid to have assumed this would affect his bro enough for
him not to realise how out of character he was acting. If this were anyone else
Dave would start to spout bullshit to throw them off of the right track but
this was Bro, and Bro was the king of spouting and recognising spouted
bullshit. If he was completely honest with himself he was at loss for what to
say because there was nothing he could think of that wouldn't make Bro
suspicious and he was pretty sure the moment the older Strider caught wind of
what was really going down here it was gonna be game over.
"This aint about some chick is it? Because this is the absolutely lamest way to
go about moping if it is." And that was both so close and far of the mark at
the same time that Dave couldn't stop himself from raising his eyebrows. That
assumption almost deserved a prize or something.
Instead of answering, he decided to just forego the entire bunch of well
thought out cutesy conversations he and John had meticulously weaved together
and skip to the physical parts by crawling into his brother's lap, dragging his
uncomfortably warm cocoon with him. "'m not moping," he said while making
himself comfortable cuddled against Bro's chest. "It's just, I dunno, I was
bored I guess…"
Several minutes pass with neither of them moving or talking and any courage
Dave might or might not have had was slowly slinking away, probably never to be
seen again. Because he might just have screwed up big time, what with Bro's
general dislike of physical contact unless it involved swords or puppets.
Then Bro cursed under his breath and suddenly his hand was in Dave's hair
pulling him up so his face was level with Bro's. There were a few moments of
quiet as the two men looked at each other and then Bro was kissing him and
their shades were clinking together awkwardly and everything was awesome.
Dave moved around as subtle as one could shift around while on someone's lap so
he was straddling his brother instead of just sprawled all over his lap and he
was only too glad to feel exactly how much of a rise he was getting out of his
brother.
Wearing footie pyjamas, watching shitty movies and acting like a dork where his
brother could see it wasn't exactly an ideal situation for Dave to get it up
but he supposed that since Bro got off on making puppet porn getting it up for
adolescents acting like brats wasn't that bizarre, even if it did make him feel
a bit silly for trying so hard to impress Bro by trying -and naturally
succeeding, because he was amazing like that- to act cool and adult and shit.
Feeling Bro's cock standing to attention inside his jeans did do something for
Dave though. Feeling that warm, big hand on the back of his head and Bro's
tongue roving his mouth as if it were an oasis after a long travel through a
lame camel-and-cacti infested desert only helped to speed up the process and
soon there was no way Bro would not have noticed the effect he was having on
Dave.
Still, humping Bro's leg couldn't hurt, Dave figured.
It didn't. In fact, it felt quite good. Good enough for Dave to put on a little
show involving him, humping his brother's leg while Bro looked at him from
behind his shades while his face slowly turned the colour of a ripe tomato.
John had said something about acting natural, trying not to force stuff or some
crap like that but Dave enjoyed the look on Bro's face when he faked his best
porn-moan.
It was sort of hilarious in a way how easy it was to string Bro along with just
a little bit of incredibly poorly done acting. Later, when Bro wasn't
practically mauling his mouth while grinding their hips together, Dave would
pat himself on the back for being such a sassy, seductive little sex-kitten.
Because really, if seducing THE Bro Strider wasn't cool there was no justice in
the world. No, the universe.
Bro pushed him on his back and pulled away, muttering a quick apology and a
'hold on for a bit' at Dave's exaggerated whine as he folded out the futon. The
squeak Dave let out when the bed beneath him moved wasn't actually forged, but
at least it made Bro turn his attentions back to him.
And then Bro was back on top of him and both of their shades were gone. They
stared at each other like a pair of deer caught in each other's headlights and
Dave was tempted to make a crack about how they were like that catbus with the
headlight eyes from that anime film they'd watched a long time ago but then
with deer and there were two of them. He didn't, but only because he was scared
Bro would realise what he was doing and pull back if he stopped acting like a
kid.
So instead he made a stupid mewling noise and hooked his legs around Bro's
waist.
That broke whatever catbus-deer-trance whatchamacallit they had been caught in
and in a flash -typical, of course he just had to drag his strife-speed into
the bedroom as well- Bro had mashed their mouths back together. Only this time
those large, hot hands didn't stay chaste and Dave was most definitely not
complaining.
If contemplating what Rose would be telling him if she knew the current
situation wasn't one of those things one just doesn't do when one is being felt
up by their brother and long-term crush he'd probably be imagining her saying
something about how the only reason he was doing this at all was because it was
taboo and the human mind was attracted to the forbidden or some crap like that.
Instead, he simply decided that having Bro's hands on his ass was awesome.
Of course having those hands run down his back, his ass, his thighs, his
stomach was awesome. They were Bro's after all, and he'd been wanting this for
longer than he bothered to count -though John might be able to tell him with
startling precision, and he really didn't want to think about that right now-
but Dave was sixteen. This, of course, came with a train-wreck of hormones that
didn't understand the meaning of the word slow if it hit them on the head with
a pogo-stick.
Of course Bro was much more experienced with fucking and stupid concepts like
taking it slow so he should probably just let Bro take the lead like he seemed
to be content doing so far. In fact, considering he was supposed to be acting
the part of a cute kid, he most definitely should be letting his brother take
the lead. Sadly, as mentioned before, Dave was sixteen. And since his sixteen-
years-old-boy hormones were telling him to screw going slow, he did the next
best thing.
He grabbed Bro's crotch.
For the first time in as long as he could remember Dave was really hoping there
were some cameras hidden around the place at that moment because the
undignified squeak Bro let out at that was glorious. As was the fact that he
actually jumped, got pulled back down by Dave's legs and fell off of the bed.
Any remnant of a poker-face Dave might have had left was promptly discarded and
Dave didn't even care how uncool full out laughing in Bro's face was because
this entire situation had just turned from amazing to something that should be
hailed in poems and raps alike for at least the next few centuries or so.
Bro growled from where he was sprawled over the floor and Dave's laughter
subsided ever so slightly as their eyes met. There was an instance where he was
almost certain the older Strider would leave in an angry huff, and he swallowed
a few lingering chuckles, getting ready to apologise. Then Bro pounced.
Last time he'd found himself on his back with Bro pinning him to the futon he'd
at least gotten the time to take in what the hell was happening. Apparently,
however, Bro's version of 'not taking it slow' involved undoing the buttons on
those stupid pyjama's front, ravaging Dave's neck with his mouth and palming
his little brother's crotch all at the same time while keeping the younger
Strider pinned with his knees.
Now Dave was the one making embarrassing noises -and not even on purpose,
though he might have exaggerated a few because that made Bro make those funny
sounds and he liked that a lot more than was logical- and he found that he
didn't mind at all because fuck it, if Bro really had cameras all over the
place like he usually did that just meant they'd have the hottest thing in
human history to watch later.
Then the last of the bunny-shaped buttons was undone and Bro was impatiently
shoving the fabric down Dave's shoulders, nipping and biting down his skin
making Dave burst out into peals of laughter every time he got to a ticklish
spot and damn that should be a mood-killer of apocalyptic proportions. Bro
clearly didn't agree, if that nice, unwavering tent in his pants was anything
to go by.
Dave humoured Bro for a moment, letting him ghost his fingers over his stomach
and bite his chest before returning the focus to getting off, because he was
still a horny sixteen-years-old and learning all the joys of sex beyond plug
A+slot B=goal could wait for later, when he was older. Or at the very least a
sixteen-years-old who had already gotten off once that evening.
He reached out for his brother's crotch again. This time Bro actually
anticipated the move and held still so Dave could awkwardly tug at his zipper.
Damn, why were pants so complicated when it was someone else wearing them?
Bro snorted and looked down on him with something that was awfully much like a
half-grin if Dave wasn't so certain his Bro was too cool to do mediocre things
like smiling. So it was… an ironic smile? Damn, he was losing track of his
flow. He mused about asking Bro if he would help him out with learning how to
keep his internal monologue jamming while getting his mack on later, but then
any track of thought shattered and died from sick burns because Bro was
reaching down and helping him undo his pants. He was also not wearing
underwear.
The first thought that entered Dave's mind after a quick reboot was that he
really should have seen that coming. The second was something in the direction
of how uncomfortable having his hard-on pressing against the zipper of his
jeans without the fabric of underwear to protect it from the sharp edges of the
metal must have been. Then Bro was shimmying out of his pants and all Dave
could think was yes, fuck yes, hell fucking yes. This shit was definitely
better than pretending not to look when Bro came out of the bathroom in just a
towel or changed in the middle of the living room -which also functioned as
Bro's bedroom, so that wasn't an entirely rare occurrence.
Then Bro reached below the mattress and Dave caught the noise of crinkling
plastic, and cute facade be damned, "You keep your condom stash below your
mattress, Bro. Really? Seriously? This thing functions as our couch during the
day you know."
"Shut up," Bro growled and threw something at Dave's head. Dave picked it up
while Bro was busy wrestling with the foil around the condom. It was a tube of
apple-scented lube. Real classy.
He watched Bro roll the condom on with a practiced movement, curbed a retort on
how often Bro obviously did crap like this -more because it made him
uncomfortable than because it would interfere with his acting because something
told Dave that Bro didn't really intend to stop anymore at this point in time-
and then swallowed as the older Strider got back on the bed and crawled over
towards him.
While it might have been true this was his intention all along, and he
admittedly wasn't as much of an anal virgin as Bro might think he was (Okay, so
John had given him that dildo as a prank, who cared as long as it served some
purpose, right?) he still had to swallow down some nerves as the sudden
realness of the situation started to poke him in the gut.
Then Bro leaned in as if to kiss him, only to stop a hair's breadth away from
his mouth and softly mutter, "Where doing this, kid."
Dave let out a short, huffed laugh, somewhat disoriented by the taste of his
Bro's breath on his tongue and the general proximity but suddenly decidedly
less nervous. This was Bro after all, and what was there to be nervous about
when Bro knew all of his weaknesses anyways. "Where making this happen," he
mumbled back and then they were kissing again except he was now being
methodically divested of his stupid pyjamas.
Except not really because while Bro pulled them down his arms and halfway down
his knees he didn't let up to let Dave kick them off completely and Dave told
himself that next time he should just wear something two-piece because who was
he to get in the way of Bro's kinks if all it took to get him riled up was
wearing a hello-kitty shirt during sex?
He didn't feel particularly like the only sounds he could make were stupid
moans, and he was quite certain he'd have no problem vocalising his distaste on
how Bro was slowing down again but after some careful calculations Dave decided
that if he couldn't oblige Bro's weird kiddy-theme fetish all the way through
he could at least just try to act cute and settle for what was supposed to be a
cute needy whine instead.
It sounded retarded enough for Dave to actually seriously contemplate
rehearsing proper moaning noises later on but at least Bro seemed to get the
hint and while the kissing part was still slow and sensual (and sort of sloppy,
because having a homo-crush on his brother never really gave much opportunity
for kissing practice, aside from that one stupid, disastrous evening with
Egderp that should never ever be mentioned again) at least Bro's hand was
actually down where he wanted it to be.
His other hand was busy fiddling around with something and, oh, the scent of
factory-produced apple-scented things. Well, at least the memo not to go slow
hadn't somehow gone completely over Bro's head.
He hissed when fingertips coated in something cold and slick -which didn't take
a whole lot of guessing to identify- suddenly pressed against his ass and bit
Bro's lips in retaliation. Bro was supposed to be the experienced one here, he
should know that cold surprises near the genitals were just nasty, and that it
was common courtesy to at least try and warm that shit up a little before doing
anything with it. So maybe Dave had been the one to encourage the end of the
slow parts, but that didn't mean he wanted to way too fast version either.
Bro pulled his fingers away slightly and mumbled something that could have been
an apology but might just as well have been something about how he should
toughen up or whatever but Dave didn't want to hear any of it and just fisted
the hair at the back of Bro's head, making his cap fall off -he'd still been
wearing that. Seriously. How had he still been wearing that?- and forcing their
mouths back together. Kissing was nice, and he now finally figured out why
people liked doing it so much during sex. Because it kept the other party from
bitching and ruining the moment by being Ironic.
And then those fingers were back and he figured Bro was either just a complete
asshole in bed or not as unaware of Dave's anal experimentation as he thought
because there were two fingers in his ass a lot faster than chivalry and
gallantry dictated they should. Muttered stream of curses cut off by their lip-
lock, Dave concluded that both possibilities were equally likely.
Bro did slow down a little again, but it was becoming very apparent that Bro's
sexual expertise was limited to two modi, which were 'slow and sensual', which
Dave's sixteen-years-old male hormones were currently very much opposed to, and
'quicky', which was potentially a recipe for disaster. That, and it was just
plain nasty of Bro to treat him the same way as some one-night-stand at a club.
So Dave summoned back the cute kid facade, pulled back and whimpered "Ouch Bro,
that hurts!" while staring up at him with his best kicked puppy look -he'd seen
John pull it enough when he refused to watch movies with him.
He managed to keep it up for about three seconds before he started giggling
madly. The way Bro was hovering over him with a surprised look on his face and
the fact that he still had two fingers up his ass just added to the blatant
stupidity of the situation and that made stopping the giggles a tough
challenge.
Then Bro frowned, gave him a flat look and curled up his fingers, missing that
magical spot internet research told him about that he liked abusing when
masturbating but still jarring enough nerve endings to make little shocks of
pleasure run up his spine and Dave was sure he was going to choke because
moaning and giggling and breathing at the same time just didn't work.
Bro's free hand was rubbing over his stomach, probably to calm him down. Of
course Dave hadn't actually gotten any less ticklish in the past few minutes so
the only thing it did for him was make him giggle even more so he was left to
weakly push at Bro's chest while trying to get enough breath in his lungs to
tell him to knock it the fuck off.
He managed to bat Bro's hands away, and the older Strider seemed to get the
hint. He still didn't give him time to ride out his giggling fit though,
instead opting to just continue wriggling his fingers around which felt both
good and bizarre in a way that a static plastic dildo just couldn't compare to.
Actually, Dave wasn't too certain he agreed with the idea of having something
that moved around so much in his ass, if only because he remembered his
conversation with John when he'd managed to pester his friend into researching
gay sex with him ("Wait, so you're just supposed to dig around inside there
with your fingers until you find what you're looking for? No wonder they call
gay guys ass-pirates!").
Slowly his giggles were fading, replaced by some more situation-appropriate
noises. He still didn't really feel the urge to moan loudly or keen or scream
or something equally porn-style but he figured he could at least make some
funny sounds in the back of his throat and pretend to be incoherent in
appreciation of whatever it was that Bro was doing exactly.
And then Bro's fingers -all four of them, when had that happened?- found what
they were looking for and while he didn't see stars or lose all cognitive
functions for a moment that was most definitely nice. No, not just nice,
awesome. Now only to get him to keep doing that.
Of course, by the power of cliché, Bro knew what he'd done and immediately
pulled away. The asshole. Seriously, who did shit like that? The only place
where that stuff should happen was in Rose's deeply emotional and story driven
wizard stories. Sorry, did he think wizard stories? He meant wizard porn, of
course.
But with Bro leaning over him like that there wasn't really any room for doubts
as to why he'd pulled away and Dave found he suddenly couldn't bring himself to
mind all that much anymore. There was still that nagging voice at the back of
his head that reminded him that missionary wasn't exactly the best choice in
first time anal sex but that thought was quickly shooshed because why did he
have an internal Jade voice and why was it bothering him during sex? That was
just wrong on all the levels. All of them.
Bro finally pulled Dave's pyjamas off all the way so he could hook his legs
around his waist as well as pulling his own shirt off before haphazardly
propping some of the pillows from Dave's long forgotten fluffy mountain beneath
his hips and something told Dave he'd be grateful for that bit of
thoughtfulness in the morning. Just a little.
He swallowed, trying to stop the nerves from acting back up because he knew
it'd be bad if he'd tensed up too much -Egbert had very deliberately trolled
him with a list of things that could go horribly wrong during anal when he went
too far in making fun of one of his lame movies- but it was sort of hard all
things considering. A lot of things were sort of hard, all things considering.
And the fact that he wasn't even ashamed of that incredibly bad pun was saying
something about the effect this shit was having on his thought process.
Dave had been half expecting Bro to continue on his asshole streak and just
shove right on in because he'd prepared him already or some nightclub-frenzy
fridge logic but instead the older Stirder decided to let his wicked stretch
run by just going a slow as humanly possible, if not slower. That, or maybe he
grew a conscience in a paradoxical parallel timeline and it was rubbing off on
alpha Bro, or something equally stupid.
There was some vague urge running through Dave's mind to just buck and force
Bro in deeper, but he was already breaking his cutekid facade plenty, and
something told him being a needy whore would only help that go to horseshit
faster. There was no such ban on sounding like a creepy japanese anime sub on
steroids (because Dave just couldn't and wouldn't reach that pitch) though, so
he decided this was the perfect time to kick his vocal chords in overdrive.
Apparently it was working, because no matter how stupid this sounded to his own
ears, Bro was making an interesting face, sort of scrunched up like he was
holding something back and his eyes were amusingly cloudy as he tried stare the
younger Strider down with little success. Dave wriggled his ass experimentally
and Bro closed his eyes, made a strangled noise and bucked his hips.
"Fuck lil' dude, stop squirming. I'm almost in all the way," Bro grunted,
sounding significantly out of it and Dave was so very tempted to react to the
bad gay-porn-cliche line but then Bro was all the way in and there was only the
overwhelming urge to punch the older Strider because he stopped. Again. In fact
Dave was quire sure he would punch and scream, if he wasn't so certain
screaming 'my dildo is bigger than you fuckass, just move already' in Bro's
face would not provide the desired results.
Instead he settled with a forced "move already!" with as much deliberately
faked whine laced through as he could muster with Bro's cock up his ass. Which
was decidedly getting tougher to manage because apparently sounding like a
moron whose balls hadn't dropped yet required more concentration than he'd
initially thought and it was a lot easier to lose track of wherever the hell
his own brain went when it was something organic up there than when it was
self-handled neon-green plastic.
Bro made another one of those funny squeaky noises that went and took the first
blood-fuelled train to the crown-jewels and Dave could almost convince himself
that it was just Bro being deliberately ironic except the faces the older
Strider was making sort of gave away how out of it and into Dave -ehehehe, his
inner John voice interjected- he was. It was actually sort of really not cool,
and anything that might or might not have been added to that internal monologue
was replaced by a finally when Bro decided it was time to stop being a slacker
and get the hot, sweaty Stridercest the fuck back on track.
This made thinking take several levels in toughness, but Dave couldn't really
say he minded because he most definitely didn't, even if Bro's aim was complete
crap.
If he were one of the (very well developed) characters in Rose's (crop of the
proverbial cream) explicit wizard-sex scenes -gods, that joke never got old-,
he'd be keening and writhing and going on about how his partner just had to hit
that one special spot all the time, without fail. It would also all be over in
three or four paragraphs, because Rose was a sixteen-years-old virgin and a
lesbian, and writing about genitals she didn't understand was hard. Or she
could just be embarrassed, it was hard to tell sometimes.
Bro was still moving torturously slow, and looking down at him with that stupid
half-concerned look that was somehow a million and fifty-twelve times worse
when he didn't have his ironic anime shades to hide his face. Dave
congratulated himself on knowing that without their glasses between them it
seemed he was actually the one with the better poker-face. Because small
victories still counted when they happened between him and a guy who liked
ambushing people with puppet-rump avalanches and rooftop strifes, even if they
were victories happening during activities that should have been making
thinking about this irrelevant stuff a lot lower a priority than Dave's mind
tricked itself into thinking it was according to how hard he was thinking about
this.
Something needed to be done to shoot this shit into the next gear, preferably
before he went drooling tangerine on the world. That would be a tragic loss.
Maybe it was to ground himself from wandering down the mental lanes of
completely irrelevant and get swept into the parading crowds of ironic bullshit
and what-the-hell-faced idiocies, maybe it was just to spite the fuck out of
Bro but once the urge to spurn this fuckhorse into galloping for all it was
worth -more than a one-dollar hooker at the very least- got into his head it
hung there, clawing into his brain-controls like a glorified button-push-
monkey.
So Dave let his nails rake down Bro's back hard enough that it had to hurt,
because there might never be a more beautiful opportunity to get back at Bro
for all those stupid shitty sword scars he had all over and then he clenched
his ass which was pretty much the most stupid sounding thing he'd done all
evening -which said a lot, all things considering- but the bizarre sort of
tortured moan Bro let out just made it so very fucking worth it. Besides, it
wasn't like he was going to be giving anyone any prose recaps of his evening
anyways.
Dave squeezed again, and once more Bro was making one of those really funny
noises, this time on a more audible scale. Welp. Who would have thought that
the noisy one in this equation was going to be Bro? And more importantly, would
or wouldn't this information be useful in the nifty art of blackmail?
Bro apparently decided that being a pain in the butt alone wasn't enough
retaliation for the stunts Dave was pulling and latched on the side of his neck
like some greatly exaggerated tick with a biting fetish and Dave had always
sort of figured nape-necking was more of the visually appealing porn brand but
hey, that did actually feel sort of nice, especially since Bro was finally
getting his ass in gear and upping the ante in their little bedroom foxtrot.
It was becoming decidedly harder to remember why he was supposed to be cranking
out mewls and whines like a porn-actor on pay-day with the constant stimulation
everywhere, although Bro's current nipple-plucking campaign was actually
helping Dave keep his mind clear because that just felt stupid. Somewhere in
between forging some nice vocal symphonies of wild man-love and batting Bro's
hands away from his chest -getting in another giggling fit because he was
ticklish would just be lame, and he'd have to kick Bro in the balls if he made
him- Dave decided to screw the audio track and just enjoy the ride and postpone
thinking of an explanation as to why he suddenly went little mermaid during the
bouncy bed game to sometime when coherency wasn't so much of a no-can-do.
The arm -or rather, elbow- that Bro wasn't using to keep himself from crushing
Dave into an ironic little-brother-pancake crept beneath Dave's shoulders and
pulled the smaller Strider flushed against him so they were naked sweaty chest
against naked sweaty chest and Dave took a moment to appreciate his brother's
lovely cultivated anatomy before Bro finally hit the jackpot. Snarls were
probably not the consensus of appreciative noises so he shouldn't really have
been surprised when Bro paused to give him a look that was probably supposed to
convey worry or some shit like that but none of this was improving the general
opinion of the evening. Namely, Bro was an asshole with a knack for stopping at
inopportune moments.
Sadly while Dave's inner monologue didn't have any trouble thinking up
colourful and creative incentive threats to tell Bro to get his groove the fuck
back on it was also very quick to remind him that what he wanted here was
progression, not a one way trip to the most awkward inter-sibling discussion
ever so he forced himself to swallow back any unnecessary words and just buck
his hips, hoping that having his achingly hard dick press up against Bro's
stomach would convey the message.
Luckily it seemed to drive the picture home-base and Bro picked his pace back
up. Like the DJ he was, his rhythms and beat were perfect and Dave amused
himself momentarily by thinking up situation-appropriate bad porno lines
involving cheesy elements like being played like Bro's turntables before Bro
once again brushed his white-out button and his world went from fuck that feels
nice to goddamn don't ever stop or I'll stab you.
In between tacky manly grunts and other noises supposedly made at least
partially to convey ironic mangrit Bro was starting to let out little hissing
noises and Dave slowly started to realise he was digging his fingernails into
Bro's back a lot harder than was likely to be comfortable. Before he could let
his mind wander off far enough to accurately remember when he's last declawed
himself however, the older Strider thrust back in with considerably more force
than he'd been using before and very deliberately aimed and hit and fuck it,
who needed an internal monologue anyways.
From that point on mental coherency was the last thing on Dave's mind as his
virginity casually dwindled from 'oh god, my ass' to 'virginity, what
virginity?' and the pressure of orgasm started building faster than what was
probably considered cool. At least it wasn't three paragraphs, he consoled
himself.
The difference in experience and stamina was also starting to show as Bro
wasn't really showing any symptoms of the end-sprint of getting off yet, though
that could also be some fucked up Strider-pokerface mentality rearing it's
plush-rump at an ironically random time, and Dave's body was very rapidly
starting to get sore from the unusual position and hard things in unnatural
places. Rose had casually teased him about morning after's when taking it up
the ass (or the vagina, she'd said but it wasn't like he gave two shits about
those things) but he'd never really realised that the less nice bits might not
be the polite kind that waited until after the orgasm until coming around
kicking the door in.
Not that it mattered a whole lot because the good bits about this whole gay sex
thing were definitely outweighing the bad and if he played his cards right the
bad would have Bro pamper him the morning after, something he'd only had
happening to him whenever he had a bad flu or something, and it would be lovely
to be fussed over without having to puke all over himself to get the attention.
His own snarly noises were getting more impatient and he suddenly got the
unstoppable urge to bite Bro's shoulder. There wasn't really any reason Dave
could think of not to do it either, although he might or might not have felt a
little guilty when Bro started and gave him a warning squeeze in the back of
his neck. Apparently biting was a not nice stamp on the Strider sexytimes
punchcard.
And then the world started to snow black and white around the edges and Dave
opted for admiring the interesting visual effect instead of giving Bro the
porno-cliche warnings because his body-language had probably given him away
anyways and wow, were those imaginary fireworks?
And then he was coming and snarling like some rabid animal and he was
definitely going to be making fun of himself later because that had to be the
most interesting sound he'd ever made. Bro's movements didn't stop. If
anything, they grew more frantic and less rhythmic in the grasp of Dave's
spasming muscles and the stimulation of those nerves had been lovely before but
now they were just sensitive and way too much and Dave kind of wished Bro would
get off already because this was getting a bit too hot to handle and he would
sort of like it if he could get out of this with his mind functioning thank you
very much.
Bro pulled out, and on one hand Dave felt just a bit betrayed by the knowledge
that he didn't come but on the other hand he was just worn out because who the
fuck knew sex was so taxing and how the hell did people go at it all the time.
Didn't mean he couldn't watch Bro work himself to completion of course because
damn, that was one fine view of one fine piece of hot man-sausage.
After shooting his load, Bro rolled off the condom almost mechanically and
tossed it into the garbage bin with a precise aim that could probably be
considered ironic before rummaging around below the futon some more and fishing
out a my little pony themed box of -surprise surprise- tissues to clean them
both off with. Dave would comment on the preparedness of it all despite Bro
never bringing his one-nighters home with him but that would require breaking
the lazy, relaxed post-awesome-sex atmosphere and that didn't seem appealing at
all.
When he was done, Bro just dropped the box on the ground and fished a blanket
and some pillows from Dave's discarded pile that had fallen to the floor
somewhere during their little adult adventure to drape over them after he
crawled back onto the futon.
"You should wear footie pj's more often," Bro told Dave dryly as he looped his
arms around his little brother and pulled him close so he could bury his nose
in his neck.
"Fuck Bro," Dave said languidly, "I'll wear frilly fucking dresses if it gets
you to do that again."
He really should have known Bro would keep him to that.
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