Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/692286.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Jake_English/Dirk_Strider
  Character:
      Dirk_Strider, Jake_English
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Content, Explicit_Sexual_Content, PWP, Porn_Without_Plot, Plot
      What_Plot, either_or_man, Crossdressing, Spanking, Dirty_Talk, Dom/sub,
      Orgasm_Delay/Denial, Established_Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-20 Words: 3453
****** Recalculating ******
by Kyraelii
Summary
     How much does Jake like the color blue? Dirk attempts to find out,
     with a little crossdressing.
Notes
     I'm writing most of this between 1 and 2 AM so I'm terribly sorry...
     ALSO! Dirk and Jake are actually 18 in this, but I'm just tagging as
     Underage because they canonly are not? Yeah.
Your name is Dirk Strider, and you're pretty sure you underestimated just how
much your boyfriend likes the color blue.
Familiar tanned hands trail up the back of your thighs, gliding over the smooth
sky-colored stockings, and the sensation makes you shudder and lean further
over the kitchen counter than you already are. You hear a groan behind you, and
hide a grin in the crook of your elbow. You're pretty sure Jake just caught
sight of the prize-winning piece: a pair of light cerulean panties, soft as
silk--because they are--and a shade deeper blue than the rest of your ensemble,
but you don't think English minds. In fact, you'd go so far as to say he likes
it the most, if the heavy breath he exhales now is anything to go by.
The entire outfit you've got on carries the aforementioned color theme, with
the royal blue corset and its white lace embroidery that repeats in the
patterns of the frills in the ends of the dress. This one is of the "lolita"
fashion, or so you (barely) noticed when you decided to order it online. It
went perfectly with the light blue of your stockings and gloves, the latter of
which go all the way to just below your elbow, where your face is currently
hiding your burning blush while Jake explores with those warm calloused digits.
His fingers trace along the elastic edge of your stockings, just below your ass
while his thumbs ghost over the brink of skin touching stocking. And you wonder
if he's trying to make you beg, because the fucker won't go any higher. You
open your mouth to voice a complaint--and as if he knows what you're about to
do his hands abruptly dart up to cup your blue-clad posterior, and your words
dissolve into a low moan before you can even get the first syllable out. Your
hips rock automatically, but your straining erection finds little relief
pressed against the white cabinets and Jake only steps closer in response.
He chuckles at your reaction, fuck his laugh gets so husky when he's aroused.
How is it legal for someone so dorky to be this sexy? "You alright there?" He
asks, so close to your ear that you almost shiver. You didn't even feel him
lean down; the heat of the moment is clouding your senses, and you know he
loves it.
"Yeah," you pant, silk covered fingers attempting to dig into the smooth, cool
surface of the counter. It doesn't work well, and you shift your stance to
spread your legs further. These Cinderella-worthy heels are kind of a bitch,
but you can barely even register it over the pure need boiling in your gut.
"Yeah, just... don't stop."
He gives another short huff of laughter as he pulls away to continue
manhandling your premium behind. "Only if you be good, love." Jesus Christ, he
fucking purred that command. You can only groan and nod, then press your
forehead against the blue fabric once again. He's a lot more dominant than he
was last time, that's for sure.
Of course, the last time you did this was also the first time, and you weren't
sure what Jake would think of it. So you had worn only an apron--yes, only an
apron--and made sure that you were in the kitchen around the time English would
be in. He had entered the living room and glanced in your direction, only to
stop and do a double-take before turning an interesting shade of red in the
face. After a surprisingly small amount of spluttering, though, he gave in,
leading to what you can only say to be an exhausting and just slightly awkward
round of kitchen sex. (The two of you learned to stay away from corners after
that.) His only suggestion was that were you to try that again, he'd like it if
it was something blue as opposed to the gentle pink of your chosen apron. You
ordered the lolita dress the very next day.
The familiar rustling sound of his belt unbuckling quickly followed by the
metal clang of it hitting the floor snaps you from your memories, and before
you can even tense with realization Jake's hands return without you noticing
they had left, now sliding up the skirt of your dress to grip your thighs just
as his hips come forward and--oh. There's no way to disguise the moan that
tears from your throat as his cock grinds into your panties, unprotected by the
clothing that he still has on piece for piece.
That asshole even has his muddy shoes still on; you are so not cleaning those
grimy footprints off the floor later.
...Who are you kidding, of course you will.
The breathy groan behind you lets you know that Jake definitely approves of the
smooth material, and fuck, it's thin too. You can feel him throb as he nudges
you through the fabric. "Holy shit..." you mutter under your breath--and almost
instantly after you yelp when a stinging slap is delivered to your ass. Your
head swivels for you to glare back at your boyfriend, and the prick just grins
at you like he's the cockiest motherfucker alive, pun intended. He leans down
before you can hurl a biting insult, kissing just behind you ear in the spot he
knows will make you shudder--and you do, damn him for knowing you so well--as
his hand now rubs at the tender spot through cerulean silk.
"Cursing isn't very ladylike, Strider," he breathes into your ear, and god you
are just going to melt with that predatory undertone. His grip turns rough as
he drags you back onto his cock again, and you have to bite your lip to refrain
from swearing as his member curves to glide along yours thanks to the downwards
angle of his hips. He pulses, and a choked noise spills from your lips because
it hurts how hard he's making you, it really does.
He doesn't relent. You love it, love when he dominates you, takes away all your
power and lets you beg for it back only to say no. And he knows that, god damn
him.
You love him so much.
It takes all of your willpower just to nod in belated response to his words,
withholding another noise that threatens to rise as his teeth graze over the
shell of your ear in a gentle bite. The hand on your hip slides down just as
the other raises, and one finger on each hand hooks in the back of your
underwear. A soft breath washes over your neck as they pull the fabric down--
only so far as to expose you, but not free your erection. Bastard.
This time, you're conscious of his hands leaving you, and he takes a moment to
discard his shirt without taking his jacket off because he's a major idiot. He
does take off his glasses, which you know because they click next to you on the
countertop next to your forgotten shades, but they are quickly re-donned. You
register the click of a cap popping off. You open your eyes, not realizing that
you had closed them some time ago, and look back to see him spread the familiar
translucent liquid over his fingers. Thankfully, he warms the lube (the last
time he forgot, and you promptly swatted his shoulder for it) before his
slicked-up hand dips down again, and you turn your head back to the safety of
your arm.
It no longer hurts when his first finger slips in after an initial teasing, and
it's quickly followed by the second digit; you shift your hips a little, but
otherwise remain unmoving as he pushes in. It only gets uncomfortable at the
third finger, and by then you're really too into the motions to care, panting
quietly into the blue gloves as his fingers fuck you and spread you out for
him.
You gasp at the fourth finger; it's nowhere near uncomfortable now, it's just
good. The warm thrusts of the fingers, thicker than your own, has your hips
rocking now, each push backwards finding your aching boner rubbed against
Jake's with only the thin azure material separating skin from skin, and you
don't know when you started moaning with each breath but you are doing just
that. 
"Christ, Dirk," you hear the familiar cockney-accented voice murmur so very
close to you, and all you can do is whine in response. Abruptly there's a hand
under your jaw, fingers digging lightly into your skin to tilt your head up and
back, and you gasp sharply when Jake's lips find your neck, sealing over the
pale skin to give you a hickey just like you always do to him. There's a hint
of teeth, and he bites down a little harder than you would because it makes you
groan before you can even register it--"Jake," you whine, and he pulls back
from the love-bite to crane his neck and press an openmouthed kiss against your
jawline where his fingers dig in on the other side, and god you are being so
noisy which is unusual but it seems to get him going, if the jerk of his
fingers in response to the breathy moan is anything to go by.
And then he hits that sweet spot inside you and you're going to explode because
the world suddenly on fire.
It never gets old.
You don't even realize that you've let out a keen loud enough for the
downstairs neighbors to hear until Jake strikes the "joy button" dead-on, and
you make the noise again. Now that he's found that prized spot once again, he
works his rhythm around it; his fingers come close, not quite touching in some
strokes, but in the next hitting a bullseye that makes you cry out, the noise
vibrating slightly in your throat as his free hand glides down it. "Beautiful,"
he sighs, and you're starting to feel lightheaded with the blood rushing to
both your face and between your legs. It's just too much, it's too good and too
nice and you're not sure which is going to burst first, your heart or your
dick.
But now his fingers pull out from inside you, and you can't help but whine at
the loss. He "shh"es you lightly and presses a kiss to your neck, always
soothing when he isn't dominating. Sometimes he does both, and that's when your
heart aches the best. At least you know that he's not done, anyways, when he
raises himself so the heat of his chest is no longer on his back.
Your shoulders hunch lightly at the uncomfortable sensation of cold lube being
slathered against your entrance, and you shoot him a glare but he just responds
with a roll of his eyes and the usual goofy grin. You didn't even realize your
hands had curled into fists until now, because they relax along with the rest
of you when he smiles. So you exhale a snort through your nose instead of
actually voicing a retort, and once again find solace in the safety of your
arm.
When he nudges against you, now with purpose, you can't help but try to lean
forward. Of course you go nowhere though, because you're pressed as close to
the counter as you physically can be. He automatically grips your hip with one
hand, the slicked one now holding himself still to drive in--but he's waiting,
so very patiently for what he wants. You both know what he's waiting for, and
your lips purse in annoyance until you finally snap, "Goddammit Jake, if you
don't fuck me soon I swear to god, I'm--FUCK!" Your irritated rant is cut short
by a swear that inadverdently rips from you when he slams in, not even waiting.
And it's followed up by another harsh smack to your ass, on the other cheek
this time. It still makes you gasp noisily nonetheless, heat flooding the spot
quickly. God damn, he has a strong hand when he wants to.
"Ah, ah," your lover chides you, and you bite the inside of your cheek to hold
back a groan or a curse. You don't know which. Actually, it would probably have
been both. "Looks like you don't know the first thing about being a good
housewife, chap!" His voice is just too cheery, too sugary-sweet, and it makes
fire crawl up your spine as he leans down over you, crushing you down onto the
counter with his chest as both hands grip your ass. One is still sticky, which
you'd grimace at were you not on a sexual high right now. You'll definitely be
annoyed about it later. "I think it's high time I taught you to behave," he
purrs in that perfect voice.
You don't even get the chance to respond before his hips withdraw, then snap
back with surprising force.
The two of you quickly find out that your cries earlier were nothing compared
to this, and you're pretty fucking glad you're only half coherent because
otherwise you'd be damn embarrassed by the noises escaping your mouth with each
of his rough thrusts. He doesn't give you time to adjust past the initial
waiting, and it hurts so fucking good that you could cry. Your erection is
painfully pressed against the cabinets still, straining in the panties that are
still trapping it, and you need that to stop because you might just die with
this painful tension. One of your hands manages to uncurl from its fist that
you hadn't realized it was in, and you start to reach down--but Jake pauses in
his rough pace to pull a hand back and grab your wandering one by the wrist,
and immediately you whine loudly before you can stop yourself.
Hell, like you could stop yourself now.
"Jake," you choke out in a heavy breath, but he shushes you and kisses at your
jawline. His grip slides up so his fingers lace between your own over the back
of your hand, and you squeeze them tight because even through the fabric he's
so warm and he just anchors you.
His next thrust makes you scream, because the head of his cock hits those nerve
ends and he knows it--how could he not fucking know it, the landlord probably
knows it by now--and you are both figuratively and literally fucked. He aims
for that with each stroke, and damn if he hasn't improved on hitting the spot.
His fingers are going to leave bruises with how hard he's gripping your waist,
and you're pretty sure you're okay with that.
The weight of him above you and slamming into you is almost too much, you're
stuck between a rock and a rock-hard boner and you honestly could not be
happier about this form of almost-suffocation. The lack of proper oxygen flow
doesn't seem to stop your cries though, and your mind is just a stream of
pleas, of please Jake and oh god--fuck, fuck me harder please and I love you oh
my god. It's only when Jake gives a breathy reply of "Yes, god yes, I love you
too, Jiminy fucking Christmas--" that you realize that you were speaking aloud,
and basically shouting it to the fucking sky and god he is the perfect dork in
the replies that make it past the pounding in your ears. He slams up into that
special spot again. And again. And again. And again, and you're just so done,
toes curling inside the ridiculously tall stilettos and chest heaving for air
because you're going to explode and he won't even touch you, won't let you
touch, how is that so hot?
You do try to touch yourself again, and he responds by collecting your wrists
into one hand and holding you down as his other hand slaps at each pale ass
cheek until the creamy skin is flushed red with painful fire, why the fuck you
haven't cum yet you don't know but you claw at the counter and boy your head,
and try to beg for forgiveness between the broken cries that turn to sobs
because even then he doesn't stop, his hand harsh on your skin in the best way.
He tells you, through his harsh breathing, that you deserve it.
"Such a dirty whore," he growls behind you as his palm makes contact again, and
you simultaneously hate and love when Jake is this aroused, this far gone,
because he does things he never would with a clear mind. Like dish out dirty
talk enough to make a pro pornstar blush, and it drives you crazy. "You know
what I think? I think that you, are going, to cum," he huffs, each pause
punctuated with a smack from him and a groaned sob from you. This is all too
hot, you are sweltering in this dress but can barely even register it over his
words. "And I don't even have to touch you. You're going to get off on only the
hands on your ass and the cock in it."
The hand comes down again, but now to grip and squeeze the tender red skin with
an almost loving purpose, and you don't even get the chance to answer. That
thought and two more thrusts he slams into you send you over with your back
arched and a scream on your lips that almost sounds like the name you've been
chanting for who knows how long now. Through the burning hot pleasure your
spunk is unloaded, an overwhelming satisfaction making you literally black out
for a split second before you collapse.
He groans and lets go of your wrists, you've gone limp and won't move anyways.
Both his hands grip your hips once again as he uses your body for that final
stretch, and even semi-conscious you love the feeling of him doing this no
matter how uncomfortable it is for you. But when he leans closer and kisses
your ear, lifts his free hand to smear something warm and wet trickling down
your cheekbone, you whine his name breathlessly and you think that does him in.
He gives a shuddering breath, and you feel him lurch forward fully when his
hips lock and he leans over you with a heavy moan, nowhere near as loud as
yours but just as good to go with the hot liquid being spilled inside you.
It seems like an eternity later when he pulls out, making you sigh softly. His
hands, neither sticky thanks to his clearheadedness in grabbing a paper towel
while you rest, scoop you up and turn you over. At the same time, you slip your
heels off using only your feet and reach down with a hand to finally tug the
panties aside, although they're basically ruined. You don't have the energy to
be annoyed at him for it, and simply cling to your lover in your relaxation.
The two of you remain locked like this, facing each other with him leaning over
you and your legs locked around his waist. both panting and gulping down all
the air your lungs will let you. Jake shifts to capture your lips, and the two
of you kiss lazily until the blissful sheen of afterglow edges off. Slowly,
your body's aches start to become more prominent, and you feel hella
uncomfortable all sticky and pressed to the counter like this. Finally you
grunt and push on his shoulder, and he's quick to relent. He stands, looking a
little sheepish as you sit upright--which makes you wince--and look down at
yourself, then at him. Your ass literally is in pain right now, inside and out,
and you're sure to put an edge in your glare. He gives you his usual hopeful
smile, and something inside you melts a little despite your annoyance.
"So..." He starts, and the blush dusting his countenance under the tan is so
precious as he readjusts his glasses, since they fell askew in his frenzy.
"...You should wear that again sometime."
You can't help but laugh, throat scratchy and rough from your vocalizations,
and nod as you pat down the fluffy frills. It all feels kind of gross with the
sweat (and cum) making it cling to you, and you can't wait to take a shower.
Still; you really miscalculated his adoration for the cobalt hues.
"Definitely," you respond with a light smirk, and he beams back at you. You're
pretty sure the two of you share the same thought in this moment.
Hell yes. 
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