Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11906772.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Dave's_Bro_|_Beta_Dirk_Strider/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      Dave_Strider, Dave's_Bro_|_Beta_Dirk_Strider
  Additional Tags:
      Frottage
  Series:
      Part 3 of Completely_Ironic_Incest_Shenanigans
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-25 Words: 2019
****** The Ship Came In ******
by Cerberusia
Summary
     After your stunt with the girl's school uniform, you don't have to
     take steps to seduce Bro. He seduces you just fine.
Notes
     I would like to thank whoever sent me that ask about Stridercest
     frottage. Please have this, ah, explanatory diagram.
After your stunt with the girl's school uniform, you don't have to take steps
to seduce Bro. He seduces you just fine. The day after he sucks you off under
the skirt, he comes up behind you in the kitchen and waits. Not that you
realise this, of course. The guy's like a fucking ninja.
You turn round from getting your apple juice from the fridge and the juice
nearly ends up all over the floor because holy shit, Bro is right there.
Instead of dropping your glass or throwing it all over yourself, you say, very
suavely,
"Sup." Truly, Bro could not do better himself.
"Sup," replies Bro. Then he takes the glass of apple juice out of your hand,
puts it safely on the rickety card table with a cinderblock propping up one leg
that you use as a kitchen table, and bends you over backwards in a dramatic
movie-style clinch.
His mouth is as flat as ever, even though his face is so close you can feel his
hot breath coming out his nose. You keep your best poker-face and wait. Who are
you kidding? Bro can probably feel your heartbeat hammering through your shirt.
Bro's face looms closer and closer, and you close your eyes just in time for
him to kiss you. Maybe you weren't supposed to close them, but you're sure not
opening them again to try and work out if he's closed his. Keeping your eyes
open during a kiss isn't ironic, it's just goddamn weird.
He gives you a romantic, closed-mouth, romantic-movie smooch. It's totally
ironic. You enjoy it in ways that are totally unironic, and kiss back as best
you can. Flinging your arms around his neck adds to the parody of a romance
scene and therefore counts as irony, right? His mouth is much bigger than
yours, and you think he's being very careful.
Then he's gone so fast you're left in a passionate clinch with only air. Bro's
an asshole like that. You retreat to your room with your apple juice and wish
he'd stuck your tongue in your mouth too. It would make it easier to fantasize
about sucking his dick. You're pretty sure you're not meant to think about
sucking your older brother's dick so much, but you do. You spent a lot of
quality time thinking about it.
You also think about that kiss a lot. The memory just floats across your mind
at random times. You fall asleep one night and dream that Bro comes into your
room and gives you another kiss just like it, his hand tenderly supporting the
small of your back. It's great, except that when you wake up you realise you
were imagining him with googly smuppet eyes the whole time. Cock-blocked by
your own subconscious.
The next strife Bro demands starts off the same as usual: you start off on the
offensive, he defends so easily it's laughable. Then he puts you on the
defensive, and it's all over pretty quickly. It's not the worst defeat you've
ever suffered, but ending up on your back, disarmed, on the hot roof of your
apartment building makes you mad anyway. At this rate you're never going to be
as fast or as strong or as cool as Bro. You don't even think you're getting any
better.
Bro wanders over, looking like he hasn't even broken a sweat. He hands you your
sword.
"Again," he says. He's not tired, smug, or even disappointed. You have to do
this until you get it right or Bro says you're done. You haven't got it right
yet. You haul yourself off the hot concrete and try again.
It doesn't go any better this time, and in frustration and desperation you
fling your sword at him, forcing him to parry and deflect it away from his face
- giving you an opening to fling yourself at his polo-clad chest.
It's not the cleverest strife move you've ever pulled - he doesn't weigh twice
as much as you any more, but it's close, and he can definitely beat you in
hand-to-hand combat - but you manage to knock him off balance and with a
startled yell, you both go crashing to the ground. At least you're on top, so
he doesn't crush you instantly.
Bro has your arms and legs pinned in an instant, of course. There was never any
other option. You don't even get in one proper satisfying punch, which pisses
you off. You wriggle frustratedly on top of him.
Then you stop wriggling, because holy shit, that's a boner.
Bro lets go of your arms and reaches up. For a moment you think he's going to
flip you over and try to wriggle your legs out from between his, but he just
slides his hand into your hair and brings your head down for a kiss.
His mouth is huge and hot and he opens your lips with his tongue, no messing,
straight into making out. You're good with this, your sudden boner is good with
this, full steam ahead to make-out city. Your hands are free so you grab hold
of his arms and feel his biceps flex. He's huge and hot and muscly underneath
you, and every time you told John or Rose or Jade that you didn't like dudes,
you were lying. You were so lying. You are totally into being mandhandled by
your hot, buff older brother. His other hand is huge and hot on your back like
it's pushing you down into him, getting you closer, and you love it.
You kiss back aggressively, thrusting your tongue into Bro's mouth. His tongue
touches yours and strokes it, and a shudder goes all the way through your body.
Tongue-kissing always looked so gross when people did it in the movies, like
they were trying to eat each other's faces, and you never understood how it
could feel good or hot or like anything except a slug - until now. The warm wet
muscle of Bro's tongue slickly touches yours, licks your bottom lip, teases all
the parts of your mouth you never knew were sensitive.
Your boner is aching, trapped by your jeans. You rock your hips, pushing
against Bro's legs where they wrap around yours, and manage to rub your dick on
his stomach. Just that brief, unsatisfying touch feels so good. You can feel
his boner against your ass and you try and grind down on it, try to make him
feel the same things he's making you feel.
Bro's free hand, the one that's not messing up your hair and directing you to
kiss just how he wants it, smooths its way down your back and takes hold of
your ass. He squeezes one asscheek, hard and possessive, and you squirm so you
rub your dick against his belly again, rocking back and forth so your ass rubs
over that bulge in his pants. Is this sex? Does this count as sex?
Bro pulls you forward, then back, forward and back, driving you into a rhythm
as he thrusts his hips up under you - and that feels good, that feels really
good, like all the friction is making it hot between you, like your dicks are
almost touching. The Texas sun is blazing down on you and the humidity is
stifling, and you don't care because Bro is helping you grind your ass against
his dick and you might actually come in your pants.
Then his hand lets go of your ass with one last squeeze and slides between your
bodies, and you nearly bite Bro's tongue because he's undoing and opening your
jeans one-handed and getting your dick out of your underwear and he's touching
your dick, touching it with his leather-gloved hand. You have to stop kissing
him so you can pant desperately, burying your face in his sweaty neck when he
tries to chase your mouth.
More fiddling between your bodies, and suddenly that's Bro's dick, that's Bro
getting his dick out of his pants and grabbing your ass to position you just
right so your dicks are touching, really touching. Bro's dick feels huge, a
real adult's dick. You want to see it like you saw it last time, want to suck
it, but Bro is helping you thrust and rub your dicks together and it feels so
good you can only moan into his neck. With your dicks lined up like this,
you're a head too short to reach his mouth any more.
Your hips get into a rhythm, rolling back and forth on top of Bro, grinding
your dicks together like the sickest grind you ever pulled in Tony Hawke. You
clutch at his shoulders and lick and bite at his neck. He groans when you bite
him so you do it again, shocked to have got a reaction, and he rocks his hips
up hard and breathes heavy through his nose. He pulls your pants down to your
thighs and squeezes and gropes your bare ass. It's not exactly the plushest
rump this side of the Mason-Dixon line, but Bro sure seems to like it.
It gets faster and faster and hotter and hotter, and you nearly chew Bro's neck
to ribbons as you gasp wetly against his skin where stubble turns to smooth.
Your hips are moving of their own accord, your body undulates against Bro's and
your dick is crushed between your belly and his, where the skin is hot and wet
with your precome.
Your eyes are closed, you can't see, you can only feel Bro's muscles shifting
under you, hear the rasp of his breath when you desperately gnaw on the meat of
his shoulder. Both his hands are pawing and squeezing your ass now, working you
on his dick. You can't hold on, your dick is throbbing, your legs jerk
helplessly, everything is drawing tight and sweet-achy and you're shaking with
how bad you need it, how hard you're working towards it.
The tension at the base of your dick snaps and explodes, and you explode too,
hot waves of pleasure wracking your body, opening your mouth in a pleasure-pain
rictus, making you whimper out a couple of high-pitched nonsense syllables as
orgasm crashes over you and you come all over Bro's belly and all over his
dick.
Bro grunts and you feel his body tighten up underneath you, every muscle going
taut; then convulsions, jerking, as you feel come spurt out of his dick where
it's trapped between you. You cling onto this moment, cling onto him: the low,
vulnerable, uncontrolled noises he makes when he comes.
He doesn't let go of you. That surprises you: Bro's not cuddly, as a rule. But
he keeps you on top of him, your face still buried in his neck. Your shades
must be digging into his throat, but he's not saying anything. Now you're lucid
again, you're amazed you managed to do this without getting stabbed by the
pointy edges of Bro's shades. Apparently the way to make sex not awkward is to
be so super horny you don't even notice any problems.
Eventually, you clear your throat.
"Bro, my ass is gonna get burnt like next door's toast." Next door keep setting
off the fire alarm trying to make breakfast. You and Bro don't even bother
evacuating.
"Mm-hm." Bro shifts a little underneath you. He doesn't let go of your legs.
It's like discovering that the log you thought you were floating on is actually
a crocodile.
"Brooooooo." Your voice is dangerously close to a whine. Bro's sigh ruffles
your hair.
For a second or two, you're disoriented. You're moving - everything's upside
down - you're flying - and then you're on your bed, somehow still on top of
Bro.
"Better," you say, grudgingly. If you can flash-step that well, why not, you
guess.
"Mm-hm," says Bro smugly, and tightens his arms around you. His arms are strong
and your blinds are closed to keep the room cool, leaving only thin strips of
light to fall across the dusty floor. He's not letting you go. You can live
with that.
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