Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1655012.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DRAMAtical_Murder
  Relationship:
      Trip/Virus_(DRAMAtical_Murder)
  Character:
      Virus_(DRAMAtical_Murder), Trip_(DRAMAtical_Murder)
  Additional Tags:
      Canon_Related, Frottage, Underage_Sex, Eye_Trauma, Temporary_Blindness
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-19 Words: 1049
****** Short-term ******
by gammaray
Summary
     He can't see, but he knows they're there. They always are at this
     time of night.
Notes
     i decided tonight was a vitri night. ignore the title—i ran out of
     ideas.
     virus is 17 and trip is 11
     the "law" this mentions is following the idea that 18 is the legal
     age, which implies a headcanon of mine
He's awake when a small body climbs into his lap and straddles his hips.
There's only one person that the body could belong to, seeing as he's never
allowed anyone to get close to him like this. They're young and they're
hormonal and he doesn't mind indulging them in sexual activities as long as he
gets to finish.
(Before his eye modification surgery—when he could actually see, unlike
now—they would hump his leg and orgasm in three minutes max. They took a minute
to calm down before they retired to their bed down the hall, leaving him with
an erection that he usually had to ignore.
"Nnh..."
Soft whimpers escape parted lips from above, small bruised hands curling into
the fabric of his facility shirt. Choppy, red hair brushes against his neck
from where they push their face into his shoulder, panting raggedly. Hips
frantically move against his thigh, uneven jerks becoming worse as their climax
soon neared.
He lies still, eyes up at the ceiling as they have asked. They insist it's
embarrassing, that they'll claw his eyes out if he looks at them. They're now
an age of double digits and dealing with that godawful evil called puberty. He
has to deal with it.
He looks over to his roommate's bed to the right, noting that their back is to
them and they're still sound asleep. Good, he thinks. It's a surprise they've
yet to wake up, what with how loud the redhead above on top tends to be.
"...nngh!"
And it's over like that. They pant softly against his throat as climax
subsides, lithe hips no longer twitching into the damp patch they've created at
the front of their boxers. He looks at them once they've left the bed, pulling
on their facility shorts and promptly leaving the room. With a sigh, he checks
under his sheets to confirm his current state, an erection tenting his own
shorts.
His mid-teen years weren't the best, what with constantly being used as
something to rut against at night but never given the option to receive his own
pleasure. If there had been a major problem with that, then he would've spoken
up, but that was then, and this is now.)
Soon, this will be illegal, according to the law they've continued to live by,
even after being taken away from wherever they had originally come from. The
rule has always been eighteen as the adult age, and his birthday is coming up.
They know they should stop coming into his room so they can adjust to what was
soon to come, and yet they've been visiting every night instead.
They used to visit once or twice a week, but now they just want to constantly
go at it.
Judging by how they're not-so-subtly rocking their hips down against his own,
they're not up for taking their time tonight. It's rare that they draw things
out as long as possible, so he's not surprised.
His hands drift to where their hips are, using his photographic memory to guide
him. A soft hitch of breath is the only sign of impatience that he gets,
wishing he could see just how aroused they are at the moment.
He wasn't afraid to admit that he's become attached to this kid. They're so
much younger than him, and yet their own arousal has become something that's
added onto his arousal. His clothed erection is pushing up against their—ah,
bare?—bottom, hardening with the growing movements of their hips.
They whimper when he allows a hand to curl around the base of their
prepubescent cock, stroking the taut skin beneath the thickest part of the
cockhead. He chuckles breathily and uses his thumb to apply pressure to the
leaking slit, his own lips parted to accommodate for his ragged breaths.
"Hey," they try to speak, but he tsks and squeezes the head roughly, thankful
for the telltale slap of a hand covering an open mouth, muffling their moan of
approval. He wants to shake his head at how much of a masochist the kid's
become, but refrains from doing so.
He sighs and lets them take off both his shorts and boxers, discarding them to
the foot of the bed. His roommate has recently been moved, what with his
upcoming birthday, so the chance of any disturbances after curfew are slim. A
small hand meets his own with his cock pressed to theirs, encouraging him to
push his hips up into their eager hand so they could freely grind against him.
They gasp into his ear, a surprised groan slipping past the older teen's lips.
When had they moved? Shit, he's got to stay focused. His hormones are getting
the best of him, a constant chant of yes yes yes in his head. Masturbating
alone isn't fun anymore, especially when he knows he's going to get relief at
night.
The moans above get louder and more frantic, making him wanting to roll his
eyes behind the bandages obscuring his healing vision. They've never been good
at lasting during sexual activities, so it's no shock when their hips stutter
and warm cum drips onto his bare stomach. (Thank god his shirt had ridden up,
otherwise he would've been pissed.)
"Hurry," he whispers, blindly grasping for their dirtied hand to place it at
the base of his own aching cock. They don't protest, jerking him off for a
minute before he achieves his own climax. He shudders and pushes his hips up
into their slowing hand, cum probably mixing with the small puddle they had
left near his bellybutton.
He wonders if they'll leave right away, but his pants are being put back on and
his stomach is being cleaned, so he's left distracted with paying attention to
all his other senses. It's cold until they climb back into his bed, this time
next to him. He knows they're on their side because there's no way they could
fit so comfortably against him on their back on his tiny bed.
They shouldn't stay for too long so they don't risk falling asleep, but it's
too late; they're already breathing slowly next to him. He takes a few minutes
to come up with a half-assed excuse, decides he doesn't care, and goes to
sleep.
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