Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/971102.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Bro/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      Bro_(Homestuck), Dave_Strider
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Age_Difference
  Series:
      Part 1 of We_all_knew_they_were_going_to_fuck_eventually
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-18 Words: 2664
****** In the Next Room ******
by bench
Summary
     Bro hears Dave moving around in the next room and loses control.
Notes
     This is very much inspired by the Neon Trees son "In the Next Room"
     which I highly recommend. I would love to get comments here or on my
     tumblr. Thank you for reading!
It was actually one of the best nights you've had in a long time. Your
douchebag boss was out sick, the crowd was especially appreciative and the
beats flowed from your mind, through your fingers, and into your tables in
perfect sync. The heat wave even broke, taking the temperature from painfully
unbearable to simply uncomfortable. As you turn your key and shoulder open the
door to the apartment you allow yourself a small grin. It was a good night and
it's not like there's anyone around to see you break your perfect pokerface.
From the living room you can see the light on under Dave's door. It's almost
three in the morning and you briefly consider telling him to go the fuck to
sleep, but don't bother. It's summer, the kid can go full nocturnal if that's
what he wants.
You dump your equipment by the door and grab a beer from the fridge on your way
to the bathroom. You bring your hand down on the cap of the beer against the
edge of the kitchen counter sending it clattering on the ground and shed your
clothes on your way to the shower, shades abandoned on your computer desk. You
relax as you sip the beer and let the water pound into your back.
When you get out of the shower a good 45 minutes later (so you like your
absolutions, no big deal) you're still feeling too buzzed from your night to
sleep just yet. Pulling on a t-shirt and boxers, you decide to fill some orders
on the website and maybe plan out a new video. You grab another beer and settle
yourself in front of your computer.
And are immediately distracted by all the noise coming out of Dave's room next
door.
He's talking loudly and you can hear the sarcasm dripping from every word even
if you can't hear the actual content of his rant.
You grin to yourself. It's easy to envision your bro sitting in front of his
computer gesturing wildly and shooting disapproving looks over his shades as he
schools one of his friends on the ways of irony. You raised him well.
Really well if you're going to wax nostalgic, and fuck it, you're drunk the
night is young (by certain standards), and your little bro deserves some credit
sometimes, even if it would be straight up crass to say it out loud. He does
great in school, loyal if not plentiful friends, knows his way around a sword,
fine ass, smokin' hot...
Maybe two beers on top of all you had to drink at the club wasn't your best
idea. It really shouldn't be this hard to shift your thoughts to something
less... incestuous. To distract yourself you click open your order backlog to
get some fucking work done, but then...
Then the silence in Dave's room is broken by a shout of genuine laughter.
Egbert.
For all his life you were the only one who could crack the coolkid facade. You
were the only one who could make him really laugh. Hell, even smile! You were
the only person in his life and he the only one in yours for so long. You were
used to it, happy with it even! Just the two Striders, taking on the world.
It's childish and probably a little pathetic to be jealous of your brother's
friends, but if you're being honest with yourself... you never wanted him to
love anyone but you.
You shove yourself away from your desk and flop onto the futon. You are one
sick fuck, lusting after your brother. Maybe you aren't his whole world any
more, but he is yours. You watched him grow, become confident and strong and
social and it's perfect and beautiful. Everything he does is captivating, but
you really can't tear your eyes away when he does what he loves: running his
hands over his tables, focusing his camera, stretching before a strife. But
it's the little things that make you lose control over yourself so that you
have to step out of the room. Flopping onto the couch or reaching for something
in the kitchen cupboards or grinning at his computer. Sometimes it is so hard
to handle how Dave's simple motions somehow look so sexual.
It's honesty hour with bro Strider and he's getting hard thinking about his
brother Skyping with his best friend. You wish you could say it was the first
time.
Here on the futon he can clearly hear Dave say goodnight and push away from his
computer. You listen as he putters around his room, then walks into the
bathroom. You lay on your futon and wonder where you went so wrong.
Dave's showers are a lot faster than yours and it's not long before you hear
him open the bathroom door and walk down the hall towards his room.
He always wears just a towel back to his room.
You feel yourself get even harder.
You try to drive your erection away through sheer force of will, but then you
hear the creak of his desk chair and the thud of his towel hitting the wall on
the way to the laundry basket.
Your hand slips under the waistband of your boxers. Shit, what are you doing??
He's just sitting there probably (hopefully??) naked and tempting and gorgeous
and your thumb runs lightly over the head of your dick. You hiss quietly at the
sensation.
For what feels like hours but is probably only a minute or two you hold still.
You can't jerk off to the idea of your naked brother. It's wrong, wrong, wrong
but jegus you can't not react to the knowledge that everything you want,
everything that matters in the world is just one thin wall away. He's fifteen.
You're too old and too related and he's fifteen, he's fifteen, he's fifteen. It
doesn't help.
The chair creaks again as Dave stands, then silence. Hopefully he went to bed
and now you can focus on the website and stop being such a creep. Maybe if Dave
just stops moving all smooth and graceful you can go back to being a normal
brother. Normal-ish.
You are about to breathe your sigh of relief and push up from the futon when
you start hearing an irregular gentle clicking from next door. Fuck. Dave is
mixing.
Shitfuckdamn. There is absolutely nothing Dave does that is more attractive
then when he's at his tables. The small almost-smile on his face as he loses
himself to the music, the way he sways just a little bit to the beat he
creates, but above all the way his fingers dart over the buttons and sliders of
his mixers before reaching to his laptop to sample a new sound. Fuck fuck fuck.
You fist your hands in the sheets.
You bought him a Pioneer DJM-700 mixer for Christmas last year and yeah, it was
stupid expensive and very nearly as good as the gear you have for your job, but
damn if it wasn't worth it for the look on his face when he opened the box. And
now the idea of him working over the mixer you got him, the mixer he worships,
makes the whole thing even worse.
You can still hear the sound of his fingers sliding over his equipment, you can
see him working in your mind. You wonder if he ever bothered getting dressed.
He's probably standing in his boxers swaying, smiling, his clever fingers
finding every knob and slider in perfect rhythm. You wonder what would happen
if you walked in right now. Would he even hear you? You bought him a pretty
sweet pair of audio-technicas for his last birthday and he can't hear shit when
he wearing them. But then maybe he's just as electrically aware of your
presence as you are of his.
You imagine yourself waiting in the doorway watching Dave work the tables.
He turns slowly and sees you standing there and his soft smile widens ever so
slightly, expression open with his shades nowhere to be seen. He takes off the
headphones and walks towards you with the same sensual sway that his hips make
to the beat of his music. His clever fingers gripping your arms as he pushes
onto his toes to brush his lips gently against yours.
You groan almost silently as you brush your knuckles gently along your length.
Looks like we're doing this. We're making this happen.
Dave releases one of your arms to hold the back of your neck, deepening the
kiss. You rest both of your hands on his hips and gently pull him closer until
he is flush against you  with nothing separating you but your two pairs of
boxers. 
You rub again harder and bite your lip hard to quiet your moan. You can still
hear the gentle click of Dave's equipment in the background.
Dave cants his hips up into yours and groans  softly against your lips. You can
feel him growing hard against you and you slide your hands down to cup his ass
and pull him forward to grind hard against you. He groans again, louder this
time, and you take advantage of his open mouth to run your tongue along the
back of his teeth.
You give in to the fantasy, slipping your hand back into your boxers to grip at
the base of your erection. Panting loudly into your empty room. Dave can't hear
anything with his headphones on, but you still feel the need to be silent,
secretive.
Dave releases your other arm to fist both hands into your hair, pulling your
head down further and thrusting his tongue into your mouth. You bite down on it
gently and his whole body shudders. He pushes you harder back against the
doorframe, sending a stab of pain up your spine. In retaliation you push back.
You walk him back step by step until the back of his legs collide with his bed,
lips connected all the while, his hands in your hair and yours on his ass. You
pull out of his grip and push him back on the bed. He leans back on his elbows
and looks at you with his lust-glazed eyes, breathing hard. You slot one leg
between his and lean over with your hands by his hips.
Biting your lips is no longer enough to keep you quiet, so you roll over and
bury your face in your pillow. You push onto your knees and shove your boxers
down, one hand gripping the arm of the couch and the other slowly rubbing up
and down your length. You gasp desperately, voice stifled by the pillow. You
mouth Dave's name over and over, clinging to the thought of him under you, as
desperate for you as you are for him. The imagined heat of his body under yours
driving you out of your mind.
You lean forward slowly to cover his lips with yours, the kiss your only point
of contact. Dave arches up under you, desperate for your touch, and you oblige
him. You push onto the bead, one knee planted between his thighs and framing
his head with your arms. Again he arches under you and this time you both hiss
at the friction. You kiss desperately, frantically.  Darting tongues and biting
lips as his hands brush up and down your sides, his clever fingers gripping
your hair, clutching your arms. He pushes up again and again and you grind down
into him in time. Soon you are both breathless. Too overwhelmed to kiss any
more you have devolved into pressing foreheads together and breathing each
other's air.
You are rutting into your closed fist now. Each breath is a gasp. Your cock is
freely dripping onto your sheets.
You abruptly realize that you are wearing far too many clothes. You push
harshly off of Dave and strip off your boxers, throwing them into a random
corner of the room. He takes the hint and wriggles out of his then grabs your
arm and drags you back over him and pulls you into a bruising kiss. You thrust
down as he thrusts up and the bare heat of him against you is almost enough to
finish you. You bite your lip hard and pause for a long moment. Dave has one
hand buried in the sheets and the other gripping your arm. His eyes burn into
you, pupils blown wide with lust and pleasure.
You are practically sobbing now. Trying to hold back your orgasm until your
fantasy has run its course is almost more than you can handle. Your legs no
longer have the strength to support you so you roll back onto your back. You
can't keep yourself quiet. You can still hear the sound of Dave working his
tables over your gasping breaths and just have to hope that his headphones will
block out your sound. As you fist your dick almost harshly and even as you try
to cling to your composure you feel it slipping away.
You abruptly throw yourself to the side and onto your back. You haul your knees
up and pull Dave over you until he's sitting on  your lap leaning against your
legs. You reach down and grab your lengths together. You and Dave gasp in
unison, Dave arching his back and tossing his head. It's probably the sexiest
thing you have ever seen.
You can almost see Dave sitting over you. You know his face so well, better
than you know your own. You know how he moves, how he sounds, even how he
thinks a lot of the time. You can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe he
thinks of you this way sometimes. You gasp out his name and buck up into your
fist.
With one hand you grip Dave's hip as he moans and thrashes over you. The other
pumps hard and fast over your and Dave's dicks. Dave reaches one hand down to
join with yours while the other grips your knee, keeping him upright and
forcing his back into a tight arch. Somehow with his hand over yours every
sensation is ten times more intense. Your hips pump up against your will,
jolting Dave to fall against your chest. You sit up, your hand still pumping
furiously, chest to chest. You can feel the beat of Dave's heart where you are
pressed together and you feel like yours might burst with the love and passion
flowing through you.
"Fuck Dave fuck Dave fuck!" Somehow you have managed to keep your voice down to
a low murmur, but it's getting harder and harder. You rub at the head of your
cock, alternating gentle touches and hard fast strokes, teasing yourself as you
dream of teasing Dave.
Dave's whole body is quaking against yours. "B-bro!" it's the first word either
of you have said. "I'm gonna..." his head slams against your collarbone as he
comes against your stomach. You immediately follow, biting back a shout.
"Dave!" you yell as you finally spill onto the sheets. Your tensed muscles
relax abruptly and you pant into the open air of the living room, finally
spent. You lie still for a long moment. There is silence from Dave's room. You
wonder how long it's been since he stopped mixing with a feeling of foreboding.
You feel dirty. You jerked off thinking about your brother. Again. What the
fuck is wrong with you? And, more importantly, what the fuck are you going to
do now? You can't go on like this, lusting after the kid you raised like some
kind of monster. Then there's the sound of Dave's door opening.
"Umm... bro?"
You're out the Window, up the fire escape, and on the roof before you really
have time to think. Dave heard you, or at least heard something. You fucked up
and you don't know what to do.
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