Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5444693.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Gravity_Falls
  Relationship:
      Bill_Cipher/Dipper_Pines
  Character:
      Bill_Cipher, Dipper_Pines, Tad_Strange_(briefly), Mable_Pines_
      (Mentioned), Pacifica_Northwest_(mentioned)
  Additional Tags:
      PWP, Debateable_Dub-con, "Strangers_at_a_Party"_AU, "Something_Made_Them
      Do_It"_Trope, Blow_Job, Facials, Frottage_(I_may_be_using_that_word
      wrong), Public_Sex, Dipper_is_fifteen, Bill_is_in_his_twenties, I_don't
      give_a_lot_of_context_for_this, But_it's_porn_so_it_doesn't_really_need
      it, Tad_shows_up_at_the_end_to_chew_Bill_out, because_it_amused_me, He
      disapproves_of_Dipper's_age, Dipper_is_drugged_in_this, although_I_don't
      mention_it_outright, Imaginary_Aphrodisiac_Drug, Drug-Induced_Sex, I
      don't_actually_name_Bill_until_the_very_end, so_I_guess_this_also_counts
      as_anonymous_sex, So_many_cliches, Pretty_sure_I_emptied_the_cliche
      bucket_on_this_one, I'll_figure_this_whole_"pacing"_thing_out_eventually
  Series:
      Part 3 of Porn_for_Porn's_Sake
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-17 Words: 5912
****** Till Morning is Nigh ******
by a_noni_mouse_(Blargnaught)
Summary
     "Dipper glanced up at the man's face and met his eyes; He was
     watching him with an intensity that made Dipper whimper. His cheeks
     were flushed a bright pink, his lips moving as he continued to speak,
     a litany of praise and filthy promises that made Dipper's stomach
     turn with lust and excitement."
     Dipper goes to one of the Northwest's Christmas parties, and winds up
     enjoying himself more than he initially expected.
     Written for #100 from the 100 Sexual Themes List.
Notes
     I can't A) write blow jobs. B) Write dialogue/Dirty talk/fluff scenes
     before and after sex to save my life. C) Depict real people emotions
     (they're hard) or D) Write. But hey, here you go anyway. And besides
     all of that, I'm actually pretty proud of this one! It turned out
     only a little bit shy of the word count I was aiming for, and I don't
     feel like it's nearly as bad as some of the other ones I've written.
     Improvement!
     This was written for #100 from the 100 sexual themes list: Sex
     Pollen/Aphrodisiac/Aliens made Them Do It, although I never actually
     state in the fic that that is what is going on. Well, not outright
     anyway.
     I should probably edit this some more but honestly I'm kind of sick
     of looking at it. I'll be embarrassed in the morning. Until then, if
     you guys see anything that sounds odd/needs fixing/is spelled wrong/
     doesn't grammar, let me know. Knowing is half the battle, and
     practice is the other half. Enjoy!
     Additional Note: This has an...add on? Not really a sequel, more like
     an "after the party from Bill's POV." I started it almost immediately
     after finishing this, but it's only about 60% completed (because I am
     slow and have a short attention span), but if you want to read that
     60-ish%, its on my Dreamwidth. https://rainydaypuddle.dreamwidth.org/
     It's #37.
Parties at Northwest Manor were always something of a spectacle, but this one
was about as
over the top and pretentious as a party could be out in the middle of nowhere:
Garlands covered
almost every surface, speckled with colorful little bulbs and delicate crystal
ornaments etched
with designer names. The enormous ballroom was practically dripping with tinsel
and holly and
fresh, live evergreen boughs. There were no less than eight fully decorated,
twelve foot Christmas
trees tastefully positioned in the front hall and the ballroom. Women in
colorful party dresses and
men in somber tuxedos clustered around the floor in groups or danced to live
orchestral
renditions of popular Christmas carols, and an entire wall had been taken over
by a buffet of roast
meats, pies and Christmas candies and cookies.
All in all, it looked like Santa's workshop and a Christmas tree farm had had a
baby, and that
baby had thrown up on everything.
Everything.
Dipper was trying very hard not to be impressed. He hadn't wanted to come in
the first place,
trusting neither Pacifica nor her parents after the last time he had been
invited over, but Mable
had never been able to resist a party and she had refused to go without her
twin. They had fought
about it, but at the end of the day the invitation had been addressed to him
and his plus one, and
so rather than risk his sister's tears he found himself stuffed inside of an
uncomfortably stiff,
cheap suit and shoved into their Great Uncle's old car.
Pacifica hadn't been anywhere in sight when they had arrived. Dipper was
disappointed, but not
really surprised; He had been on almost-friendly terms with her for years, but
any potential
friendship he might have had with her was spoiled by her continued distaste for
his sister, and
with Mable at his side Pacifica was sure to stay as far away as she could. Not
that Mable
actually stayed with him for very long: his dark mood hadn't jived very well
with her festive cheer,
and she had run off immediately to flirt with some immaculately dressed
socialite, leaving Dipper
to loiter awkwardly in the corner with a glass of champagne that he was still
far to young to
legally drink and a dark, sulky feeling sitting heavily in the pit of his
stomach. And that was
probably how he would have spent the entirety of the party if it hadn't been
for The Man.
He was only a little taller than Dipper with short blond curls and a suit that
had obviously been
made to fit the curves of his body like a very expensive glove. He had a clean
shaven, clever face
with high cheek bones, a thin mouth and eyes so blue Dipper could see their
color from several
feet away. He flitted from group to group, occasionally dancing but usually
chatting, shaking
hands, kissing knuckles and generally leaving trails of blushing, tittering
people in his wake.
Dipper found himself following the man with his eyes first, watching him for a
little bit of
entertainment on an otherwise super dull night. When the man moved on to a
group of people
just out of Dipper's line of sight, Dipper moved along the wall until he could
see him again. He
wasn't the only one doing so -- the man looked like the kind of guy who liked
to be the life of the
party, and he was certainly making waves. Eyes followed every move he made,
envious,
admiring, amused, bored and lustful. He spoke with wide, sweeping gestures and
his laugh
carried through the room, even over the music. After a while people began to
gravitate towards
him until he had amassed a decently sized following of people.
Dipper kept the man in sight, but kept his distance, not wanting to get tangled
up in the crowd
like some kind of groupie. He was content to skulk in peace and admire the way
the charcoal
slacks cupped the man's ass just so or how the fake candle light glinted off of
his hair. It was ok
to stare a little, he reasoned, because the man was obviously not the kind of
person that wanted
to be stared at.
If his night had continued on like that, he might have gotten some small amount
of enjoyment
out of it, gone home and never consented to go to one of Pacifica's parties
ever again. This was
not what happened.
He had been stalking the handsome man for the better part of an hour when
things started to go
a little...funny.
'Funny' probably wasn't the right word for the situation:'Funny' was how a pie
tasted when
Grunkle Stan accidentally used salt instead of sugar.'Funny' was Mable tripping
up a set of
stairs because she insisted on wearing heels longer than Dipper's hand.
'Funny' was not the sweeping sensation of vertigo that hit him without warning
somewhere
between the handsome stranger catching his eye across the crowd and Dipper
tripping dizzily
through one of the massive doorways and into the deserted front hall. 'Funny'
was not the heady
heat that caught him off guard, made his heart beat faster in his chest and his
inexpensive
slacks tighten in an embarrassing way.
'Funny' was not inexplicably becoming majorly horny in front of everyone at a
fancy party
surrounded by rich and fancy people. No, the proper word for that was
nightmarish.
Dipper tucked himself into the shadows were the staircase to the second floor
met the wall and
ran trembling hands over his cheeks. Either his fingers were freezing, he
thought, of his face was
as red as a tomato. Possibly both. He shot a withering glance at his crotch and
the painfully
obvious outline of his cock straining the fabric. His dick twitched, aching to
be touched and
uncaring of Dipper's mood or location.
He needed to find a bathroom or, even better, make it back to the room he had
been assigned for
the night before someone saw him. He took a quick look around to make sure that
no one was in
the area and tried to adjust himself in his pants so that his erection would at
least be marginally
less conspicuous if he ran into anyone en rout. He was not expecting the wave
of sensation that
crashed over him when he touched his cock. The stimulation, even through the
layers of fabric,
was stronger than anything he had ever experienced before. He gasped and
grasped at the wall
as his knees buckled. When he jerked his hand away his hips twitched, chasing
the friction.
What the hell?! he thought, surprised and disconcerted. He knew that the
hormones of a fifteen
year old were nothing to laugh at, and he understood that random and
embarrassingly timed
erections happened to people his age. But this was strange; He had jerked off
lord knew how
many times since hitting puberty but he had never been so sensitive to a simple
touch.
"What the f-fuck?" He stuttered out loud, as if there were anyone around to
answer him.
That...had to have been some kind of fluke or...or....maybe he had had too much
to drink? Was
this why other people were so taken with the idea of alcohol? He had had a few
beers before, but
he couldn't recall ever having a reaction like this.
He took a quick look around and, seeing no one, he pressed his fingertips
curiously against the
hot mound of flesh. The sensation made him inhale sharply through his nose.
Greedily, unable to
help himself, he flattened his hand against the erection and rubbed himself
with his palm. It felt
so good, and he moaned.
He needed to get somewhere more private, he thought, even as he squeezed
himself more
tightly through his slacks. A knot of heat was growing in his belly and he
suddenly felt light
headed. His fingers and toes tingled and his head buzzed. Every part of him was
begging for
more friction. Everything around him was blurring and the more he touched
himself, the less
anything else mattered. It had never been this good before.
He thought he heard the sound of a voice somewhere nearby, and, reminded that
he was in a
public area, he tried to push himself up off of the wall. He needed to go. He
needed...he
needed....
He rubbed his thumb over the head of his penis and moaned again as heat crashed
through him
like a wave. Fuck it. Fuck it fuck it fuck it. The voices were unimportant. The
fact that he was
barely hidden from sight was unimportant. What was important, was his need to
get off right the
fuck now -- every part of him excepting some small, oxygen starved bit of his
brain was insisting
that he pull his dick out and touch himself until he came all over the
ridiculously expensive wood
paneling in front of him. His fingers danced across the tab of his zipper, ran
up and down the
teeth and he keened softly, unable to stop himself.
"Ah, there you are." The voice behind him was a little high but silky with
amusement. It wasn't
quite a bucket of cold water to the simmering heat just under his skin. More
like an ice cube that
stung with cold but was quickly consumed. His hand paused what it was doing,
but he couldn't
quite still the desperate rocking motion that his hips insisted on making. The
voice was vaguely
familiar, and a handsome face with electric blue eyes came instantly to mind.
Something
uncomfortable clenched in his gut, even as his penis surged with a new wave of
arousal. He
didn't want to turn around, but then again, he did. He didn't want the even
footsteps behind him to
be real, but the idea of putting on a show stoked the flame to a roaring fire.
He didn't want it to be
the blond man from the party, but at the same time he really, really hoped that
it was.
He peeked over his shoulder and felt his heart sink and his pulse jump.
The man was standing a few feet away, champagne flute in hand, smiling at
Dipper as if he
wasn't humping his hand in the corner of an exposed hallway. "I had wondered
where you had
run off to." The man set his glass down on a nearby table. The movement shifted
his well tailored
suit around his body in a way that made Dipper's mouth go dry.
"I-I...um..." Dipper stuttered. The heady burn of arousal made his voice
breathy. It was as if all of
the air had been squeezed from his lungs. Humiliation heated his face, and
still his dick
demanded his attention, aching in its confines. The sudden appearance of the
person that
Dipper had been admiring all night shouldn't have had him rutting desperately
into his hand, but it
did. The embarrassment alone should have killed the boner instantly, but it
hadn't. "I'm sorry." He
moaned, his fingers tightening spastically around his aching dick. He needed to
get away, but he
needed more, more, more...."I d-don't know what's wrong with me, I-"
To his surprise the man made a gentle shushing nose and slid up behind him,
trapping him
between the wall and his body. A cool hand brushed against his heated forehead
and carded
soothingly through his hair.
"I can't believe that asshole's plan worked." He muttered under his breath.
Dipper blinked,
vaguely confused by the non-sequitur, but, frankly, to distracted by the man's
sudden proximity
to care.
The fingers that weren't tangled in Dipper's curls grasped gently at his hip
and turned him so that
his back was pressed to the wooden panels of the wall behind him. "Sorry." the
man said for no
apparent reason, not sounding particularly sorry at all. His thumb brushed a
slow circle over the
waist of Dipper's slacks, then slipped from his hip to palm the boner tenting
the fabric on Dipper's
inner thigh. Dipper was completely unable to stop the desperate little noise he
made in
response, and any questions he might have had about the situation were buried
under the
sudden wave of oh my god yes.
"You like that?" The man said, rubbing small circles into the fabric. Dipper
nodded so fast that he
nearly banged his head against the wall. "Then how about I help you out."
"Please..." Dipper begged, eyes wide. The man's mouth curled in a way that was
positively
sinful. "Please." Dipper repeated desperately, pushing himself into the man's
hand. The man
grasped his erection firmly through his pants and Dipper keened.
"Oh that's a beautiful noise." The man chuckled low in his throat, shifting
closer so that he could
nudge Dipper's legs apart with his thigh. "There, how about that?" He asked.
His breath tickled
Dipper's ear as he leaned in closer, sandwiching Dipper between the wall and
his chest. One of
his hands grasped a handful of Dipper's ass and used his handhold to force
Dipper's hips to
move, grinding his erection firmly into his leg. "Good?"
"Yes, I- yes!" Dipper murmured, picking up the motion eagerly. It was
wonderful, the friction
against his dick driving him mad. More more more more more. He stared up at the
man with
glazed, worshipful eyes, fucking shamelessly against the hard muscle pressing
against him in
time to the desperate pulse in his ears. His hands grasped fistfuls of the
man's perfectly tailored
suit, clinging so hard his fingers began to ache. "Oh god I'm so- I don't know
why I'm....I- fuck
more! Please!" He babbled. In a far off, distant kind of way a tiny voice
screamed that this man
was at least in his twenties. They didn't know eachothers' names. This kind of
horniness wasn't
normal, even for a particularly healthy teenager. As soon as whatever this was
passed, he was
going to die of embarrassment. But for once in his life he was too turned on to
care about future
what ifs, and the voice was all but lost over the pounding of blood in his ears
and the demand for
more more more more in tempo with his fluttering heartbeat.
"There you go. Good boy." The man was murmuring. The hand on Dipper's ass slid
into his
slacks to knead his bare flesh and the hand still buried in his hair pulled his
head back so that
the man could nuzzle into the exposed skin of his throat. He shifted a bit and
Dipper felt
something firm press against his hip. "Keep it up, just like that." He
encouraged. "We'll get that
problem of yours taken care of, kid. Just keep....that's right." Dipper
whimpered. The knot in his
belly was tightening, blazing white hot, stoked by the man's words in his ear
and his fingers and
lips on his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, mouth hanging open so he could
suck in air.
Everything was too much -- too hot, so close too tight too desperate too good
so goodoh god so
good!
"Fuck kid, you look so wrecked right now." The man's breath was a wet-hot brand
against his
skin, encouraging him, egging him on. Sharp, sweet nips of pain followed his
mouth down to the
collar of his stupid tux and then back up to his jaw. "The best kind of
pornography. You're
desperate for it -- god that stuff worked even better than I thought it would.
Saw you watching
me, by the way. Made it hard to concentrate, I kept wondering what your face
would look like
with my cum on it. Maybe we should try that next...end tonight with my spunk
splattered across
that cute little nose of yours, what do you say?"
"Ok." Dipper groaned, barely hearing the words, just the lusty tone of the
man's voice. "Ok,
anything, just please don't move!"
"I don't plan on it, kid." The man muttered, nipping at the tender skin
stretched over Dipper's
fluttering pulse. Dipper whined, hips stuttering, falling out of their
desperate rhythm. He hadn't
thought that he would be into biting, but apparently he was wrong.
"Again!" He begged. The man practically purred against his throat before
sinking his teeth into
the flesh with enough force to bruise. The pain was a sharp heat, the sensation
flooding Dipper's
body with a sweat burning sensation that went straight to his dick. His hips
ground desperately
into the man's thigh once, twice and then orgasm hit, tearing through his body
with a force he
had never experienced before. He lost his breath and for one glorious moment
nothing else
existed but the sweet pleasure of release.
"Oh...my...god." He gasped when he could breath again, punctuating each word
with a few last,
weak thrusts before stilling completely, panting into the man's shoulder.
Slowly the tide of
pleasure rolling through him receded into rippling waves. He leaned back
against the wall, held
up more by the man's hands and leg than his own ability. He fully expected the
warm exhaustion
he normally experienced after cumming, but as the last of the aftershocks faded
they left behind
a nervous tension that had both nothing and everything to do with the awkward
position he was
pinned in. He met the man's eyes-- the first time he had looked him in the face
since he had
appeared behind him -- and nearly sobbed when his dick jerked, a weakened but
still potent
surge of lust trickling across his awareness.
The man smiled as if he knew. His expression was hungry and it reminded Dipper
of a predator
looking at its next meal. He thought that it should have scared him. Instead,
he felt the heat in
his belly flicker and blaze back to life. It was nowhere near its former
intensity, but it was still an
insistent and unsatisfied tightness knotting him up from the inside. He
wanted...no, he had to
have more. He gulped. Again, something dark and primal whispered. More. Again.
Please!
"That was quite the show." The man murmured, voice husky with arousal. He
pressed his hips
forward, the iron hard line of his own erection pressing into Dipper's leg. The
hand in his hair
pushed gently but firmly on his head. "How about returning the favor though,
huh? After all, we
had a deal." For a moment Dipper hesitated, wondering exactly how his life had
managed to take
such a bizarre turn and wishing that he could bring himself to care, but just
the idea of watching
the man reach his own release made dick ache. He wasn't softening at all, he
realized. If
anything, it felt like he was getting harder.
He let the man push him to his knees. "I've never done this before." He warned.
His voice shook
a little, but he couldn't tell if it was from the dull jangle of nerves or the
rising inner tempo of more
more more.
"That's ok. It's not hard." The man said, then giggled softly, muttering
"that's what she said."
under his breath. Dipper shot him and incredulous look and the man winked, eyes
crinkling at
the corners when he smiled.
On his knees he was face to face with the man's erection. He had felt it
against him but he
hadn't really noticed how hard his companion was, consumed in achieving his own
relief. Now, he
couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself as he stared at the straining
tent in the front of the
man's slacks; The idea that anyone could be this hard from something that he
had done made
him feel warm with lust and a small touch of pride.
The hand in his hair stayed gently tangled in his curls, holding his head close
to the man's
crotch. The other undid the button on his slacks and pulled the zipper down.
The harsh scratch
made Dipper's dick jump. His breathing sped up again in anticipation.
The man wasn't wearing underwear. He parted his fly, shimmying the fabric down
his hips just
enough that he could reach in and pull his penis out. Dipper heard him breath a
small noise of
relief when the organ finally bobbed free. It jutted close enough to Dipper's
face that the tip,
flushed dark red with blood and damp with pre-cum, just barely brushed the seam
of his lips. The
man took himself in hand and dragged his dick gently over Dipper's mouth,
smearing the leaking
fluid on his skin.
"Want to open up for me?" The man asked. He pressed forward a bit more
insistently and Dipper
parted his lips to let him in. "Good boy." The man purred. "Fold your lips over
your teeth." Dipper
followed the instructions and the man fed him his cock slowly, pushing into his
mouth inch by
inch as if savoring the sensation. When he was about halfway in he paused.
"This comfortable?" He asked. Dipper blinked up at him. It wasn't
uncomfortable: The man's
penis was a thick, heavy weight on his tongue. It tasted like skin and sweat
and something a bit
more concentrated and salty that Dipper assumed was semen. His lips were
stretched around
the girth of it and the tip was brushing the roof of his mouth. He hummed an
affirmative and the
man sighed, fingers tightening in his hair.
"Good." He said. "Don't want to choke you; That could get messy for both of
us." He carded his
fingers through Dipper's hair again, rubbing gentle circles into his scalp.
"Ok, here's what you do
kid." He wrapped his fingers around the bit of his dick that Dipper didn't
have. "Use your tongue
and suck. Don't worry about moving your head or anything like that. Get my
attention if you need
to stop. Got that?" He waited for Dipper's affirmative, pulled his dick out
until only the tip was
inside, then pushed back in.
He rocked his hips slowly at first. Dipper pressed the tip of his tongue
against the vein on the
underside and tried to work out how he was supposed to move his tongue and suck
at the same
time.
"A bit harder than that." The man breathed. He pushed into Dipper's mouth a
little faster. Dipper
flattened his tongue and pushed the muscle upwards so that the man's cock was
pressed
between it and the roof of his mouth. He could feel the veins and ridges
standing out on the hard
flesh.
"There you go." The man said. Dipper hummed, reaching up to grab the man's
wrist -- not to
stop him, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but because Dipper
desperately felt like he
needed something to hold onto, a point of contact to keep him grounded against
the light, heady
feeling of arousal that was once again sweeping through him. Every time he had
imagined what
his first sexual encounter might be like he had always pictured some faceless
kid his age.
Maybe it would be a quick fumble at school, in the locker room, at home during
a 'study date.'
This was so much more than he had ever pictured. This close he could smell the
spice of the
man's cologne and the polish he had used on his shoes and underneath that,
something
muskier that Dipper thought might be the man's natural scent.
"Suck a little more." The man muttered. Clumsily, Dipper did as he was told.
His jaw was
beginning to ache a little but he powered through it, determined to at least
make a decent effort
despite his lack of experience. At one point, his ran his tongue along the
underside of the man's
head, flicking his tongue over the tip and the man moaned loudly. The sound
went straight to
Dipper's own cock and he fumbled desperately with the fly of his slacks.
"That!" The man hissed. "Do that again." So Dipper did, one-handedly wrestling
his dick out of
the confines of his pants and jerking himself off desperately to the symphony
of small, breathy
moans the man above him made. Like before, his penis was overly sensitive to
his touch and
now, post orgasm, the head was even more tender, every stroke bringing immense
pleasure
tempered by a mild bite of pain.
The man's thrusts sped up. Saliva leaked down Dipper's chin and dripped onto
his tie. The wet,
sloppy noises the man's cock made as it slid in and out of his mouth were
obscene. Dipper
sucked and laved the man with his tongue like his life depended on it, enjoying
the silky slid of
skin against his raw, stretched lips and the pinpricks of pain in his scalp
where the man's hand
had twisted in his hair. Above him, the man was mumbling quietly, half to
himself and half to
Dipper, interrupting his own statements with gasps or moans.
"You're a fast learner, kid. I -- shit -- you should see yourself. Should take
a picture. Your lips
around my -- hrng, Fuck!...."
Dipper glanced up at the man's face and met his eyes; He was watching him with
an intensity
that made Dipper whimper. His cheeks were flushed a bright pink, his lips
moving as he
continued to speak, a litany of praise and filthy promises that made Dipper's
stomach turn with
lust and excitement. Dipper's penis, already damp with his ejaculation, was
leaking pre-cum
again, and over the man's noises he could hear the slick sounds of his hand as
he stroked
himself, racing towards completion far faster than he would have thought
possible.
"Wait." The man grunted. He tugged a little forcefully on Dipper's hair, and
Dipper moaned again.
"Wait wait wait. I'm going to..."
He pulled his dick all the way out of Dipper's mouth with a lewd pop and began
to jack himself
off. Dipper tried to move his head back but the hand in his hair held him
firmly in place.
He's going to come on my face. Dipper realized, heart slamming against his
ribs. He's really going to do it. He
jerked his own cock faster, eagerly. The man's hand tightened painfully in his
hair.
"So fucking hot." He muttered. He was leaning over Dipper now. "God I want to
take you home
and fuck you until you can't walk. Want to bury my dick in your ass until you
scream-" his hips
jerked and he groaned lowly as he came. The first stripe of semen hit Dipper's
left cheek in a
thick, hot rope. The second landed across the bridge of his nose. He could feel
it sliding down
his skin. A drop skirted around his upper lip and slid down to his chin, and
the physical
sensation was enough to make Dipper come hard on the floor between the man's
expensive
shoes. This time his release was followed by a warm afterglow, melting all of
the tension from
his body like a hot bath. He slumped like a puppet with its strings cut,
feeling muscles that he
hadn't even known that he had relax.
The man stroked himself a couple more times, the last of his semen dribbling
out over his
fingers. He pressed his twitching penis against Dipper's face and pulled the
head through the
cooling mess on his cheek, smearing it.
"You should see yourself, kid." He said, laughing breathlessly. He pulled the
organ over the
bridge of Dipper's nose and across to his other cheek, painting him with his
semen the way an
artist might with paint and a brush. Dipper tilted his head so that he could
lick the fluid from the
man's dick and fingers. It was so salty, and a bit bitter in large amounts. He
made a face at the
taste. The man laughed again. It was a warm sound, breathy and spent and it
made Dipper smile
to know that he had done that to another human being.
The two of them spent a long moment in comfortable silence, smiling stupidly at
each other as
the endorphins from their mutual orgasms worked their way through their
systems. Dipper had
expected something like horror or revulsion or at the very least embarrassment
to rear its ugly
head the minute he was out from under whatever spell had been cast on him, but
it was hard to
work up the negative emotions when the man was beaming down at him as if he had
just won
some kind of prize. Dipper, for his part, beamed right back, enjoying the low,
buzzing warmth
floating through him. Well, so what if the man in front of him was a complete
stranger? Did it
really matter, in the long run, if both parties had enjoyed it?
No, he thought. No, this is good.
"You know-" The man started, but a voice from the staircase directly above
their heads cut him
off, breaking the quiet contentment they had wrapped themselves in like a
balloon pricked with a
needle.
"Bill, you asshole, where the fuck are you?!" The voice was deep, rich, and
very, very annoyed. It
was also followed immediately by footsteps. Dipper realized with a thrill of
horror that he had
somehow managed to completely forget that they were in a very public, very
exposed hallway,
where anyone just walking by could spot them. Shit.
The last of Dipper's post sex haze vanished, and oh, there it was, a cold knot
of dread leaping to
his throat. He glanced up at the stranger, panicked -- they were about to be
caught fucking in
public and he would get thrown out and his sister would never let him live down
the time he got
them both banned from Pacifica's house for life because hecouldn't keep it in
his fucking
pants....!to his surprise though, the stranger just sighed, shooting the foot
of the stairs an
annoyed look.
"I'm right here, Tad." He said, voice loud enough to carry. He caught Dipper's
look of horror and
winked, running his finger's soothingly through his hair and clumsily tucking
his penis back into
his pants with his other hand. Dark hair appeared over the banister, followed
by a head and then
a body rounding the foot of the staircase. The man -- tall and handsome, broad
shouldered with
a trim waist and legs that went on for miles -- froze when he caught sight of
them, eyes
widening. Dipper was painfully aware that he was kneeling on the floor between
the stranger's
(Bill's?) legs, covered in cum with his dick hanging out, but when he tried to
stand Bill tightened
his grip in Dipper's hair and held him in place.
"Bill." The man's voice was balanced somewhere between exasperated and furious.
He was
pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have a lot of questions right now, but I
think the most
important one is 'how old is he?'"
"I dunno." Bill said lazily. He glanced down at Dipper. "Hey kid," he said "how
old are you?"
"Uh." Dipper glanced between the two and for a brief moment his eyes met the
dark haired
man's -- Tad's. They were a clear, pale green that contrasted attractively with
his short, pitch
colored hair. He was just as handsome as Bill, and he was looking at Dipper
with a mixture of
offense and disgust. Dipper's face burned with humiliation the likes of which
he had never felt
before. He tried to turn his head but Bill would not let him. "Fifteen?" he
squeaked. It occurred to
him belatedly, when Tad's expression clouded darkly, that maybe he should have
lied.
"Fifteen?" Tad hissed, glaring at the blond. Bill shrugged.
"I didn't ask first." He said. His voice was relaxed, completely at odds with
the almost painful
way he was holding onto Dipper's hair.
I feel like I'm being shown off Dipper thought crossly, then wondered if that
wasn't the case when
Tad's eyes flicked back to him, looking him up and down.
"He doesn't even look like he shaves." The man snarled. Dipper wrinkled his
nose, a little
offended (he didn't shave yet, but that wasn't the point). The semen turning
tacky on his face
pulled at his skin, reminding him that hey! it was there and he probably looked
like a literal cum
dumpster at that moment.
"Ok." He said. His voice barely came out as a whisper. Neither man seemed to
hear him, so he
cleared his throat and tried again. "H-hey." his voice broke pitifully, but
Tad's eyes snapped back
to him. They were, he reflected, very nice eyes and he really wished the owner
didn't look like he
wanted to kill him. His gut swooped uncomfortably, and this time it was very
much not from
arousal. "Ok," He took a deep, unsteady breath "so, I'm kneeling in the middle
of a hallway and I
really don't want anyone else to see me like this and my knees are starting to
hurt and I'd really
like to wipe my face off so can I please get up now?"
Bill blinked at him, then, slowly, removed his hand from Dipper's hair. Tad
sighed.
"All you had to do was ask." Bill said, grinning. Dipper thought that that was
probably a lie, but
decided not to hold a grudge when Bill offered him a hand up. His knees
protested painfully
when he let himself be hauled to his feet.
"Thank you." He mumbled, tucking himself back into his pants. He was trying
very hard not to
look at Tad, now that he had a choice.
"For you, anytime." Bill said warmly, grinning and ruffling his hair and
despite everything else,
Dipper couldn't help the small smile that wormed its way onto his face.
"Stop flirting." Tad said coldly. "You had one job, Bill, and you left me to do
it so you could fuck a
minor."
"I didn't know he was a minor." Bill said breezily. "Plausible deniability,
man." His hand lingered
in Dipper's hair, fingers stroking his scalp soothingly. Slowly, Dipper began
to relax. "It was fun
though. We should do it again sometime. But until then" he cast a glance at the
doorway to the
ball room, ignoring his companion's vehement 'No!' "we should probably get lost
before
everyone else comes -- haha, ahem -- to their senses."
"That's probably the first sensible thing you've said, ever." Tad muttered.
Dipper could feel his
eyes on the back of his neck, but he refused to look. He wondered briefly who
he was to Bill,
then decided just as quickly that it didn't matter and he didn't care. He
gently disentangled
himself from Bill's hands and started to edge around the two, still trying to
avoid eye contact with
Tad.
"Um. Ok. I am going to find a restroom and wash my face." Dipper said
awkwardly. He glanced
up at Bill, and smiled a small, genuine smile. "Thank you. Um, for your help.
I...enjoyed....I mean.
I had fun." His face burned, and he looked back down at his shoes. "Uh. Yeah."
When he wasn't
desperately horny, he was desperately lame. This was why he didn't get laid
more often. Or ever.
"Hey, for someone as adorable as you? Any time." Bill said winking. "Maybe
we'll bump into
each other again!"
Dipper's last glimpse of the two before he hurried around the staircase in
search of a working
faucet and some privacy, was of Tad smacking Bill hard on the shoulder.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!