Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12930342.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DRAMAtical_Murder_-_All_Media_Types, DRAMAtical_Murder_(Visual_Novel)
  Relationship:
      Trip/Virus_(DRAMAtical_Murder)
  Character:
      Trip_(DRAMAtical_Murder), Virus_(DRAMAtical_Murder)
  Additional Tags:
      plotless_smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-06 Words: 3074
****** on the same page ******
by PikaCheeka
Summary
     They're both more concerned than they realize about being on the same
     page with everything. Even sex.
Notes
     More messing with my headcanons to write a non-slutty Virus (good
     luck with that one haha)! It's been too long since I've posted a
     smutty fic so I had some fun with this one.
 
He's lithe in his lap, a gentle weight perched on his thighs.
"You sure you're okay with this? I remember when we were little you once said
you didn't like that I had them." Always chattering.
"I want 'em." He also wants to push against his toes, raise his knees to feel
the pressure of Virus' ass. The older man smells like too much of his new
cologne. "Was your idea."
"I know." Because it had been Virus' idea, when he came home and found Trip
sitting on the couch with a box of hair bleach. Why do you have that? Don't
like my hair. I want to look like you. You'd have to do a lot more than dye
your hair. So. Our faces and bodies are too different. We hafta be on the same
page to work together, yea? I don't think that's what that means. We can make
it work. Maybe, I think so...what about earrings?
He hadn't thought twice about it, hadn't thought twice when Virus pushed him
into a kitchen chair. It was only when he'd climbed in his lap when he had
hesitated. What are you doing? Sitting on you so you hold still. I remember how
fidgety you are. Okay.
Trip unconsciously leans back, away from Virus, who sighs and grabs his
shoulders. Closer. Stop moving. Look straight ahead.Practical and commanding
despite being so soft-spoken, not unlike the doctors and surgeons whose knives
he had grown up under. He'll go far. More than Trip had ever believed for
himself if he hadn't been picked up by the older man. He obeys. The pain is
insignificant, a pleasant twinge compared to what he is used to. He won't have
to worry about that kind of pain ever again. He doesn't have to tolerate being
hurt any longer, unless it's Virus who is causing the harm. That's fine,
acceptable, almost pleasant as he hums softly and stares.
He parts his lips often, and when he isn't doing that he sticks his tongue out,
just a bit, enough to be cute, charming. Usual Virus behavior that makes Trip
hot and nervous, makes his palms itch and sweat. He's felt this way a lot in
the last month, since they met up again, his body thrumming with nervous
excitement nearly every waking minute. Because they aren't only together again,
but he can see Virus in his element, purring and preening his way up the social
ladder with that soft voice of his. He can watch all of this from the shadows,
and know that he alone knows what Virus is like at home, when he unbuttons his
shirt and makes a mess of the kitchen and talks to himself. That Virus belongs
to Trip alone.
A need to get rid of some of that energy is what makes him speak. "Maybe we
should gauge them."
"Mmm, really? That look is a little intense. It would work for you."
No no no. We have to be the same. He fixates on a tiny scar hidden in one of
Virus' eyebrows. A dot. A chicken pox scar, or maybe he'd cracked his brow
against a table edge when little, back before he had glasses and he was a tiny
little half-blind toddler. Trip licks his lips. He wants to put his mouth on
the scar. "But not you?"
He leans back and sighs, more dramatic than necessary but that hardly comes as
a surprise. "We can do it, just a little though. A few sizes. I don't want my
ears on my shoulders."
Trip exhales softly; he hadn't realized he was holding his breath. "Thanks."
He looks at him oddly, an unreadable expression in his eyes and something in
Trip recoils. And then the older man laughs. A pretty sound. "Okay, ready for
the next one?"
He wants a thousand of them, wants Virus to stick needles over every centimeter
of his body as long as he sits on him, breathes on him. "Yea yea..."
He closes his eyes for the second ear, lets the soft sound of Virus breathing
and the touch of his finger pads wash over him as the needle pierces through
his earlobe. He does smell divine, even if he put on too much cologne.
When he's finished, Virus does the unexpected. He shifts his weight a little
and drops his hands between then. "Oh...what's this?"
Trip only grunts, unsure of where to look. He can't meet his eyes, can't look
at what those fingers are doing either, so he shifts his gaze sideways and
shrugs. There's nothing he can say. He isn't even sure if he can breathe,
because those fingers resting in his lap are lightly squeezing the bulge of his
crotch and every inhale and exhale subtly shifts him.
"Are you a masochist?"
"No." Even as he it spills from his mouth he regrets it. Because if he isn't a
masochist, why else can he be so aroused?
He applies pressure slowly through the heel of his hand, tightens his arm and
rolls his hips forward as he raises his chin. He takes his time speaking,
unlike him, as he bites his lower lip and smirks. Of course he's going to ask.
"Then why are you this hard?"
Trip is silent, unable to say a word now as Virus pushes his hips forward
again. He can feel the older man's erection against his now. His eyelids are at
half-mast, his face flushed as he rolls into Trip again and repeats, "Why?"
There's no way around it. Virus always drags the words out of him; he'll never
hear the end of it if he doesn't just admit it. "You're hot."
His eyes flash. "Say that again?"
He fixates on the gleam of saliva on his teeth. "You're hot. And in my lap.
'Dya expect? I'm fourteen. Got a hardon like 75% of the time." Especially when
you're around.
"Huh. Maybe you should go get laid. You've done it, right?"
"Yea." And I think about you. He'd been shocked when he'd seen Virus again a
few weeks ago, after two years of radio silence. He isn't sure if it's because
Virus had grown, or because he himself had grown, or simply because they had
been away so long that he'd forgotten how beautiful he was. But he'd been
startled by his own attraction to the older man, confused over how someone he
had always believed was pretty, ethereal, pure and untouchable, was now
suddenly attractive, alluring, hot. And he knew it, because worst of all, he
was seductive, curling around Trip almost immediately upon arriving at the
privacy of their apartment, stroking his arms, his chest, examining his
musculature with a clinical precision, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes
as he did.
"Just girls?"
"Uh huh." Not that he hadn't considered men. But they were more expensive as
whores and harder to deal with otherwise. Seducing one was too much work, and
whenever he'd managed to corner someone, get him alone in an alley, he'd
decided to just beat them half to death. Men weren't particularly attractive to
him, with rare exception, just a curiosity. He couldn't drag Virus into an
alley and fuck him against a piss-stained wall.
"What hole do you put it in?" He can feel the dampness of his breath against
his ear.
He blinks. "Huh."
"C'mon, you know what I mean. Girls have a lot of holes. People have a lot of
holes."
"I got two more now." He coughs out a laugh. His sex had always been boring,
and he’s suddenly embarrassed of admitting to it, worried that Virus will hunt
down the girls he’s been with and ask them what happened, afraid he’s going to
mention random sex positions or toys or kinks and Trip will be unsure what he’s
referring to.
"Uhmm. Those are not what I'm talking about."
"I know, I just..." He flicks his gaze to the side.
"Got a little nervous? You're cute when you're nervous." His face is too close
as he nuzzles him, breathes softly through parted lips and rubs noses with him.
"I have holes, too." He darts his tongue out.
I can’t believe you just said that."Fuck." And he kisses him before he can
respond, grabs him by the hair and shoves his tongue into him immediately,
licks the roof of his mouth, rolls over the ridges of Virus' teeth, and bites
his lip. He opens up immediately, drops his jaw and moans.
The hand between them squeezes again. "You're big."
"Yea. Seventeen centimeters." At least I was two months ago and I'm growing
fast right now so I might be even more.He knows because he'd been measured at
the institute only a month before he'd left, when they strapped electrodes to
his dick and to his chest and wrist and head and showed him pictures of blood
and violence and rape and scribbled down his responses. Then shocked him with
80 volts where it hurt for his efforts.
"What, really?" There's shock in his voice, but something more. Delight. Panic.
Uncertainty.
He doesn't answer, only runs his tongue down Virus’ throat, mouths his
collarbone, and remembers what had happened later. When that one nasty doctor
had shooed everyone else out of the room, had locked the door and strapped him
into the chair again only to flash him a dozen photos of Virus. This is what
you want, isn't it? Yes, yes, yes it was.
Virus exhales in a grunt as Trip curls his fingers around his hips, touches his
ass, and pushes down hard. "And you're pushy, hm." He's fast with his fingers,
unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly, and pressing a hand beneath the
waistband of his underwear. He leans into Trip's chest and smirks, sighs and
presses his cheek against him as he strokes him. "God, you're right."
"I want you."
"Uh huh.” He maintains eye contact as he slides off his lap.
He's fast with his fingers, unzipping his fly and freeing his erection from his
briefs. Trip doesn't realize he'd been holding his breath until he suddenly
exhales.
"You weren't lying about the size."
"Mm. I'll get bigger." And seeing Virus on his knees in front of him doesn't
help.
"Shush." He takes him in his mouth then.
Trip jolts, unconsciously clenching his knees until Virus punches his thigh and
gives him a filthy look. He doesn't have to say it. Don't move again or I'll
stop. Trip doesn't want him to stop, not now or ever.
He's sloppy at first, not following the typical patterns he's used to from the
whores he's played with. Maybe it's because he knows me. Or he's just enjoying
himself.He isn't sure and it doesn't matter, because him being Virus means it's
already better than anything he's ever experienced.
But it doesn't last. Because he leans back, leaving Trip to fixate on the
strings of precome and saliva between his dick and the older man's tongue. Such
a pretty tongue. He'd never realized how pointed it was.
"The taste is so strong," Virus winces. "Must be your age or something."
"You ever done this before?"
Silence.
"You gotta say... I told you." He wonders absently if this is over, if that's
all he's getting.
Virus raises his head and snaps, "Don't act like we're that close."
Bitch. He's doing it again. Like he always did when they were little. Get
weird, closed off, bitchy whenever someone calls attention to whatever is going
on between them. Wants him to knock on the damn bedroom door even though
they're sharing a bed half the time. Sleeping together but not touching. It's
infuriating. “What was that then?"
He scowls and shrugs as he wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist. "You
wanna do it on the bed?"
It. It it it. He wants to take this further.
Trip is surprised that the bed is as far away as it is - he'd never realized
just what a distance a couple of meters could be. I'm trotting along after him
again like a dog.
-
He's warm inside, hot and wet and tight as Trip massages his inner walls with
an index finger. You have to prepare me first or you're in trouble. He avoids
his prostate, the location of which he knows all too well from experiments at
the institute, because he wants to take this slowly, revel in this unexpected
development. Virus is holding his breath, shuddering against him, uncomfortable
and clearly nervous. Trip wonders absently if he'd had those experiments done
to him, or if he'd escaped the worst of them because he was intelligent even as
a kid and therefore wasn’t degraded in the same way as the dumber kids. He
wonders if he should ask.
Virus speaks first, "I didn't expect you to be slow."
Trip laughs.
"It's really uncomfortable. Isn't this supposed to feel good?" He contracts
around Trip's fingers as he says it spread his legs a little wider.
"Mm, if I touch you in the right place." God does this mean he hasn't done this
before? It startles him more than he cares to admit. Did I always assume he was
a whore? He certainly acts like one sometimes but…
"Well hurry up and do it."
"Not ready. I wanna enjoy this. You feel good inside." He still can't accept
what's happening.
"Don't be a pervert." His fingers curl around Trip's bicep as he hisses softly.
But he's cute about it, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he
blushes. "Figured it'd be better if we did this for the first time together.
Same page. And add some lube or it hurts too much."
He's too startled at this sudden statement to even object. So he's never done
this before. He's never done it before and he wanted to do it and - and he adds
a third finger with the lube.
A string of expletives follow as Virus jolts back against him, turning his head
to the side to press his face into Trip’s neck as he whines out a "Let's go."
Trip grins uncontrollably at that break, that fragile snap, and props himself
up against the headboard. "Turn around in my lap then."
"You wanna do it sitting up?"
"I like... feeling your weight there. Like when you did my ears. Face me."
Virus smiles that soft smile that Trip equates with safety and pushes him back
as he sits on him and palms him. "You've been hard for a good forty minutes
now. You sure you can keep it up or are you going to let the flag down before I
get off?"
"Your..." He exhales sharply as Virus tightens his grip and immediately forgets
whatever he'd been about to say.
"If you want me in this position, then we're doing this my way." That smirk
again, triumphant, as he shutters his gaze downward and positions himself over
Trip's dick. He lowers himself in the same moment that Trip thrusts upwards.
He yelps. "Too fast!"
"God that didn't...feel good either," he breathes in deeply several times
before moaning softly. "Think I got chaffed."
"You ripped me in half." He grimaces, and then he's lifting his hips, shifting
his weight and leaning on his shoulders.
It takes them a good minute or two to find a rhythm, both laughing breathlessly
between the gasps, the flinches, the shudders. And when they find it, time
ceases to exist for Trip. Virus takes control then, just as he'd threatened,
determining the pace, digging his nails into his shoulders, his neck, whenever
Trip tries to catch him by surprise, and the younger man is surprised at how
easily he lets this happen. I like him in control. 
Virus' fingers twitch against the back of his neck, curl and clench in the
collar of his sweatshirt as he whimpers, grinds down on his dick. He
occasionally touches his ears, fingering the earrings he himself had pierced
through his earlobes less than half an hour ago, an action that arouses Trip
still further.
At some point he grasps the older man's erection, digs the fingers of his other
hand as hard as he can into his thigh and begins jerking him off. Virus tilts
his head back and sighs in satisfaction. The view is divine. Trip can see his
face perfectly at this angle. He fucks him hard, pushing hard into the mattress
with his heels. Virus alternates between making it easy and being a dead weight
on him, but it doesn't matter - all he has to do is focus on the whiteness of
his throat and remember to breathe.
Virus orgasms first, biting his lip bloody as he loudly grunts and sharply
contracts around Trip, drawing him even still deeper. He moans Virus' name as
he comes a second or two later, the convulsions too much for him, hips
stuttering violently.
He shoves Virus off of him, the heat of his ass too much to bear after that
kind of climax. It's a long time before either of them can speak as they both
lie still and gasping, Trip staring up at the ceiling with the older man's face
pressed against the side of his neck. It's Virus who breaks the silence. "That
was good."
"Still feels good." It isn't a feeling he's used to, because a quick fuck with
a whore has pretty short-lived satisfaction. 
"Called an afterglow, genius." He's pulling at his hair gently. "I guess you
can't dye it now until your holes are healed up so you don't irritate them. It
can stay red another week, right?"
"Hey, would you do any other things to your body?"
"Like sex or like piercings?"
"Piercings, I guess."
He raises a finger to his lips. "No more piercings. I like the way we fit
together. You can grow up but no metal."
The compliment is unexpected, the implication clear. "Any other body mods?"
Virus rolls onto his back and stretches while Trip fixates on the streak of
come just above his naval. "Mmm. I'm thinking about getting my tongue split."
"People do that?"
He grins, shoves his hand under the pillow and tosses his phone to Trip. "Look
it up. I could move both parts independently."
Oh. That."Would be good for making out. And oral."
"Is that all you think about?"
"Pretty much."
"At least we're on the same page there."
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