Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1093968.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Rose_Lalonde/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      Dave_Strider, Rose_Lalonde
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Sibling_Incest, Crossdressing_Kink, Panties, Vibrators, Sex_Toys,
      Femdom, Oral_Sex, light_slapping, Face_Sitting, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot, Cunnilingus
  Collections:
      Giftstuck
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-22 Completed: 2014-03-13 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 3692
****** shake it up ******
by negativecosine
Summary
     Rose walks in on Dave.
Notes
     Thanks to Irrumatrix(!!) for the editing, and thanks to Dinocar for
     the excellent prompt. Hope you like it! I had way too much fun with
     this~
***** to break my own fall *****
"Wow," she says when she walks in. She pauses for an extremely calculated beat,
and then helpfully adds, "Oh, Dave, wow."
You are really not sure if that means 'wow dave you have hit on every
genderfuck kink i can possibly contain in my soft little body' or 'wow dave you
are going to stretch out my underwear and then i am going to murder you with
them.' With Rose it's pretty much a half/half chance that it's going to be one
of those, and definitely a zero chance that it's neither. You're either about
to get very laid, or very dead, this is absolutely clear.
You can't actually see her, but you hear the sound of her glass when she sets
it down, and you hear her soft footsteps when she comes closer. You still have
no idea if you're about to die or not, but no future Daves have shown up to try
and intervene, which is usually a sign. (Not a good sign. Just a sign.) You're
face-down, and the vibrator inside you is insistent enough that you can't
really bring yourself to shut it down and sit up and turn around to look at
her. Also, all of those things are things you really really don't want to do.
You do scream a little bit when she touches your ass.
"Dave," she says, and that is definitely a warning. She rests her hand on your
ass and it is everything you can do not to squeal again, except her hand is
cool and dry and solid and honestly even if she decides to kill you for the
disgusting amount of precome soaking through her stolen panties, you can think
of a lot of worse ways you've died.
"Make it quick," you say, which is easily the shortest sentence you've ever
said to Rose ever, but also you are drooling a spot into the sheets and her
hand is pressing, pulling and spreading you, and you can't see her but you can
clearly picture the blank look she gets on her face when she's calculating.
What she's calculating right now is the probably clearly-visible dial on the
vibrator. It is on a low setting and is already quite visibly shaking you
apart. She's going to do it, you're completely certain. She's not certain, yet,
you can tell by her little huff of breath, but you're certain in her stead.
"Very rude," she finally says, and her thumb brushes just along the rim of skin
where you're stretched around the vibe. You can feel the dry catch before her
skin slicks up with the lube there, and you both gasp aloud at that. (She gasps
very quietly, and you gasp very loudly. You're thankful that it's a little
muffled in the bed.) "If you'd asked first, I'd have given you something nicer,
you know." Her hand slides down in between your thighs, just barely brushing
your skin, to pluck at the elastic. "This one- it's pretty, but the seams can't
be comfortable, can they? Satin's always like that."
You debate with yourself regarding your pride and your inability to keep your
mouth shut for about 0.001 seconds before groaning, "No, I-"
"Unless you like to feel it cutting into you like that," she cuts you off, and
snaps the elastic. It's sitting tight just behind your balls, and your hard-on
pressing it out pulls it harder against your skin. The soft, sudden sting of it
makes you whine. "If you've ever worn a pair all day... You haven't, yet, have
you? But you'd like to. But they press lines into your skin, I'm sure you've
figured that out, mark you all day... This pair, this pair would be fine for
that." She presses the cloth back in against your skin, snug up against your
taint, and she's right, it's clingy and itchy in a way that doesn't let you
forget about it for even a second, and you love that, and more than that you
love that she knows.
"Rose," you say, because you have to say something, have to try and tell her
what she's doing to you, what that light, cool, single point of contact does to
you.
"You can keep this pair," she answers, and then you jump, because both of her
hands are on you now, because you can feel the weight shift on the mattress
where she's kneeling up behind you. She's still got one hand pressed into the
satin against your skin, the back of her knuckles all delicate and sharp, but
her other hand's tracing your hole, stroking just barely at where the vibe's
stuck in you. "Maybe we can negotiate another pair for daily wear. I have some
red ones," she adds, and jostles the vibrator a little. You groan (a lot) and
push your hips up and back against her hands. She pulls back, gives you a hard
pinch on the thigh, digs her nail in. It just makes you louder, which may have
been her actual intention anyways.
"I'm turning it up now," she tells you, and it takes you a second to figure out
what the hell she means. The vibe is a constant, dull buzz, and it's been
keeping you at a low, constant thrumming level of 'oh god what am i going to do
with all these boners' for long enough that you sort of forgot that it could-
ah. This is that hard, cheap plastic kind of toy, alchemized and sort of
hapless, except that it can turn up really high. Like bone-rattling, grab-the-
sheets-and-yell kind of jackhammering speed. Rose has got to be holding it in
you, because you're squeezing down and bucking back against it hard, and you
know from experience that you can eject this thing with impressive velocity,
and she's just- holding it, not moving it, just giving you a solid point of
contact while you rattle yourself to pieces.
About ten seconds in, you figure out the other reason Rose is holding the vibe
still- you can't get it at the right angle like this, you can't come. Your legs
are too short, or your spine just doesn't bend that way, or something, so no
matter how you try and stretch up and fuck yourself back against her hands,
there's just no way. Her free hand's still tight up behind your balls, just a
constant intentional pressure, and your whole body feels hot and tight and
shivery, and you can't come like this, and you really want to know how she
knows that. Is she testing out some weird arcane theoretical dick-knowledge
from reading way too much gay wizard smut, or does she know because she's been
around the taint-handling block a few times, or what- but you're too distracted
to pay that line of thinking too much attention, because she's still going, oh
god, fuck.
"Rose," you sort of gasp loudly into the mattress, fisting the sheets beside
where you're face-planted. "Lalonde. Come on."
"Ungentlemanly," she says, and gives the thing a little jiggle. You spike so
close to orgasm your vision whites out a little, but it's not enough. You choke
a little, try to spread your hips, push up on your toes, anything to get her to
push it down just a little, just give it to you. "You're absolutely not going
to come first, you know."
"Rose," you whine, because honestly this is the first indication she's given
that she's even slightly turned on, but you have no idea how the hell she can
expect you to fuck her when you're this worked up- there's no way in hell you
wouldn't just go off the minute she touched your dick.
In answer, she withdraws her hands. You make an absolutely wretched noise, and
she slaps you lightly on the hip. "Turn over. Keep your legs spread. Do not-
" she flicks at the vibe lightly, and it jerks, "-let this fall out."
You do your best to obey- your arms are all shaky and weird, and you can barely
haul yourself up enough and keep the presence of mind to stay clenched down
around the toy, but you manage. On your back, even the dim light in the room is
a little too bright, and you throw an arm over your face immediately. Rose
immediately smacks it out of the way, delicate and back-handed. It's too much
effort to fight her on it, but with your arms loose over your head and your
legs fallen so wide your hips feel unhinged, it's... it's too much, it's too
vulnerable, you've got nowhere to hide, and so you squeeze your eyes shut and
arch your hips and hope you don't die when she breathes on your boner.
"I'm not going to touch that," Rose says after a second, and it takes you
another second to figure out what the hell she's talking about. "Yes, that,"
she says, when your face presumably does... something expressive. "That is your
problem, you deal with that. Open your eyes."
You do, but not because she told you to. You just want to see what the hell
she's doing, that's all.
What she's doing, as it turns out, is hiking up her skirt and pushing down her
panties. She kicks them off, but not before she shows you the little silk bow
in front. You deeply, deeply hope she forgets to take them with her after this.
And then she just sort of... climbs on you.
"Eyes open," she has to remind you, when she's straddling your face, kneeled up
over you. You have never been more turned on in your life, and the fucking
vibrator's still just wrecking you, and you spare yourself a second to squeeze
your eyes tight hard, then look up at her. She looks like she always looks:
like she knows something you don't, and is going to torment you with it. You
figure you really only have one option, here, and so you lean up and lick her
clit.
You thought, actually, this would have good results. You know the basic theory
of the clitoris, and you also know that you're hot and shivery all over and if
she's not going to touch your dick then, fine, you still need contact
somewhere. All she does, though, is tense and exhale slightly, then fist one
hand in your hair and push your head back down into the mattress.
"Two options," she tells you, while you fight to stop yourself from straining
your neck against her grip. "You can turn it off, and use your hands, or you
can leave it on, and no hands."
"No hands," you gasp immediately. "Get down here, Rose, fuck," and then you
can't talk anymore because she settles a lot of weight right on your open
mouth, and wow, oh, wow. Your eyes half-close, and she tugs your hair to remind
you, and her other hand goes down to pin your wrists together over your head.
"Of course," she says, as she rocks down on you. You're gratified to hear her
breathing hard already, but any thought you had of gloating about it doesn't
form fully enough to follow through. Not that you could, anyways. It's all you
can do to catch a breath when she gives you space, and keep your teeth the hell
out of the way. Her weight is all on your face, or on her wrists, and her
rocking jostles the whole of you. "You'll always choose the hard way, won't
you?"
You sort of groan into her, because you figure out that you're just flexible
enough to hitch your knees up, get one heel pressed up against the base of the
vibe, and she fucks you down on it, moves your whole body down on the bed and
it finally, finally gets the right angle. You're almost numb, it's so hard, and
it just hammers up into you and she's yanking your hair and digging her nails
into your wrist. She's not stopping to let you breathe anymore, just grinds
down on you so hard your jaw aches, hard enough that you can't do anything,
just let her fuck you.
You actually have no memory of coming. The first conscious thing you can figure
out is gasping in desperate breaths around her, dizzy and shaking and your eyes
are wide open but you can barely see her, the lights in front of your eyes feel
so bright. The next thing you observe is that she's frozen still on top of you,
tight and shuddering, her head thrown back so you can't feel her face. Her
hands are clenching at you, and then they go slack, and she slows to a stop.
You whine when she delicately dismounts, and whine again when she switches the
vibrator off and slides it out of you. When you finally sit up, squirm out of
the ruined panties, and look at her, she's perfectly dressed again, smoothing
her hair down. If it weren't for the light flush in her cheeks, you'd never
know. "You can keep them," she says softly. It's maybe the first time you've
ever heard her sound so- so earnest. It's far more unnerving than the usual
sweetly-plotting voice. And she locates her drink, and she goes.
You find, later, where she tossed the black ones. She's right- the cotton's
much softer. Much better for everyday wear.
***** always one foot on the ground *****
Chapter Summary
     Rose would like a quick favor. Apparently.
It's not actually that unusual for Rose to interrupt you while you're in the
kitchen. It's usually to poach sandwiches or criticize your dishwashing
technique, though, she doesn't usually just come up behind you and grab you by
the jaw. You drop a dish, which manages to both shatter on the faucet and send
a splash of soapy water all over your shirt, and you try to protest, but her
hand's pretty tight over your mouth and she's kind of dragging you backwards
into a broom closet.
Her hand's soft and small and smells good, but she's got a surprisingly strong
grip, and she's pretty capable of shoving you into the closet despite your
stumble and muffled protests. You consider strifing her, but you also consider
your sudden boner. And the likelihood that she could take you out without you
ever getting your hand on your sword.
But mostly your boner.
She turns you around, but covers your mouth again, and goes straight for your
jeans with her free hand. Jesus, what?
"Take your pants off," she's hissing, and you can't really see her in the dark
in here, shades on, but the pale blob of her face is close to yours, like she's
up on her toes to get at you. You manage to get your shit together pretty
quick, and knock her other hand out of the way so you can get the button and
zip done, and you groan into your hand when you shove them down and your dick
bobs up against the back of her wrist.
"Off," she repeats, kind of whisper-yelling, and lets go of your mouth to take
your jeans and boxers in two little fists and jerk them down past your knees.
"Come on, shoes, shit."
Okay. Slightly weirder. She's frantic and breathing hard, you only just notice
this now, it's so rare that it didn't totally register, but fuck, whatever, you
kick out of your shoes and jeans fast as you can manage without tipping over or
kneeing her where she's down there being completely in the way. She straightens
up and presses herself flat against you when they're off, and you screw up your
eyes when your dick smears a little wet spot into the cloth of her skirt.
Her breath puffs hot somewhere around your neck, and she... does something with
her hands that you can't really see, but it's sure as hell not touching you,
for some reason. You pop your shades up to check, and oh, okay, no that's cool
too. She's got both hands up under her skirt, and it drapes in a way where you
can't really see anything under that, but you can see the way her wrists twist
and flex, and you can see her staring up at you with a look of furious
concentration, and your main contribution to the whole situation is to get her
skirt stickier. You're- really fucking wet, and you can feel the back of her
hand through the thin cloth, pushed up against you, and you make a sound that
sounds like whining but is definitely not whining, and you're about to ask, or
beg, or something, when she pulls out a hand and wraps it around your shoulder.
It's sticky-wet and you can smell her, fuck, and you catch her wrist with both
hands and lick her fingers helplessly, just once, before you let her push you
down onto your knees.
She slaps your hands out of the way when you try to lift her skirt, and again
when you try to rest them on her thighs. You get the idea pretty quick, and
lock them behind you, and try not to whine again when she barely hitches up the
skirt herself, hooks one leg over your shoulder, and leans hard onto your face.
She's wearing silk- you can't tell which pair it is, can't see the color or cut
of them, but you know that texture on your tongue way too well by now. She
twists one hand up in your hair, and presumably is bracing the other one on a
shelf or wall or something, because she's got the leverage now to rock forward,
bumping impatiently against your mouth. You open up dutifully, swipe out a lick
across the wet silk, and moan despite yourself. Rose gives your head a little
jerk, tilts it back, and rocks down again, setting her own rhythm. You're
pretty much fine with that- the cloth tucks into her folds, wets down slick
onto her skin, and you can feel the hot pulse each time she pushes her clit
down onto you, can taste where she's starting to drip around the sides of the
panties.
She keeps her rhythm perfectly, is incredibly fucking generous in letting you
anticipate and push up against her, though that's about all you can manage to
do, really. Your knees ache and you're digging your nails into your wrists
behind your back and you're gonna have one hell of a crick in your neck after
this, but you're hard and leaking messily on the floor in front of you, and
every time she lets out even the smallest gasp your dick twitches and you groan
against her skin.
She can't keep the position long, and you know when she decides it's time
because she tells you, soft and breathy, "I'm going to fuck your face now,
Dave." It's all the warning you get to suck in a fast breath before she seals
your face hard against her clit and grinds down in quick little jerks. Her leg
is clenched and twitching around your shoulder, and her hand's cruelly tight in
your hair. You're going dizzy from need and breathlessness when she finally
comes, shakes herself to a standstill, then untangles and pulls back. You
instinctively lean forward to follow, mouth still hanging open, face wet,
shades crushed against your forehead. She untangles her hand from your hair,
smooths it down a little, and gently pulls your shades back down.
"Rose," you say, weakly, because what the fuck else can you possibly say. You
think if you don't come, you might actually die.
"Don't wash that off," she says. Her skirt has fallen back down around her, and
she has to hitch it back up. She peels the soaking panties down, steps out of
them delicately, and straightens. "Stand up."
You stand, shaky and weak, and have to sag back against the shelves to stay
even a little bit upright. She crouches, and taps at your ankles. You blink
down fuzzily at her, and she taps again.
Oh.
You lift one foot, then the other, step into the panties, and try to stay
silent and upright as she slides them up your legs. They're so wet the catch at
your thighs, and when she smooths them up against your balls they feel like
skin. You do whimper more when the elastic snaps a little against your dick,
and then you whimper a lot more when she takes it in one cool, sticky hand and
carefully tucks it in, so it lays heavy to one side inside the panties.
"Jeans and shoes," she says, and taps your hip.
"You can't be serious."
"Here, I'll help."
You feel flayed open, wrecked and vulnerable, and helplessly letting her dress
you isn't doing anything to assuage that. The denim feels impossibly rough on
your skin, now, even through the underwear. Your boxers lay discarded somewhere
in a corner, and you cannot bring yourself to even slightly care. You toe on
your shoes obediently when she gets them in front of you, though you're not
above stamping the heel of them down to avoid lacing. You let her button and
zip you, let her smooth down your shirt and fuss at your hair again, let her
nudge your shades back up where they're sliding down your nose. She takes you
in, apparently decides she's satisfied with what she sees, and pats you sweetly
on the chest before straightening her own hair and clothes a bit. "Don't take
them off all day," she says, and gives your hip another little pat. "You may go
to your room after this, and you can come in them, but you can't take them off
until you go to sleep." She looks at you, eyes narrowed a little for a moment,
then softens. "Is this okay?" she adds, belatedly.
"Yy. Yeah," you manage, not totally trusting your own voice. "When do you want
them-"
"I'll come collect them when it's time for that," she says quickly. She leans
up, all the way on tiptoe, and manages to reach your chin for a brief, sticky
kiss before she goes.
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