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Shit, let's be Pony Pals

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Dirk blinked, eyes adjusting to the light just cast on him. It was not unlike an early memory from the dentists that he’d had; black reclining operating chair, large capped reflector around sharp halogen light. He winced and picked his hand up to shield his eyes. Peering behind the squint he could make out a tall figure.
Male. Wide shoulders. Probably well-built. Horns. Troll? Troll.
‘Oh hey, another Dream Bubble?’.
His voice echoed into the silence. In the distance he could hear dull whirrs and grinds of metal, gears and cogs. A tinny hollowness. The figure, motionless apart from his breathing. It was slow and rhythmic and his form swelled with each intake.
‘Yo.’ Dirk ventured. The form took a decisive step forward, pulling some of his body into the light, though most of his face was hidden in shadow.

The reply was silence. His breath seemed to slow down – maybe stop completely? All Dirk could make out in the dim glare was the sight of the horned head cocking to one side. Before he could add a 'sup?' as an addendum though, whoever it was drew even closer.
A heavy hand pressed down onto the table inches from where his hip rested and the dark grey skin that covered the well-muscled arm reassured him that his assumptions were, in fact, spot fucking on. It was still taking him a little while to get used to the various troll intrusions, but usually they were louder than this. Way more obnoxious. This felt different.
“You...” The voice finally grasped through the obscuring hushed, coarse and deep. “I have...observed you.” The troll moved his head down into the light, and Dirk took the opportunity to commit his features to memory. Scanning his face, he noted sharp cheekbones and a square, decidedly masculine jawline. His eyes were concealed behind a pair of thick black sunglasses, square and oddly cracked in sections. Here in the Dream, Dirk still wore his own shades, and though they were a somewhat less tangible version than in ‘reality’ he was glad to be able to hide his curious expression behind them. Was this guy…emulating him on purpose?
“This is a world I have created for you, human. Is it pleasing to you? Are you suitably ill at ease in this environment?’ The manly troll was still leaning over Dirk, his sizeable hand remaining motionless on the chair beside him. Dirk looked down at it, then back up.
‘…Are you asking me if I’m uncomfortable? Because if that’s the query then yes, this would be pretty goddamn uncomfortable. These are some seriously vexatious locales you’ve created for my person, right here. I can’t say I’m particularly thrilled to be sitting in the middle of what wins at least the bronze medal in Top Childhood Nightmares.’
The troll let out a chuckle, like a sort of hoarse smoker’s laugh. When he grinned his teeth slid out from behind his lips. They were regimented and neat but shattered in portions, not unlike his eyewear. Dirk noted that this particular troll was unlike any other he’d seen up until this point. He carried himself with posture and spoke in a disquietingly noble fashion.

‘Then I am satisfied; your discomfort and your,' a slight pause of uncertainty - a beat - barely noticeable but carrying the weight of weeks of planning with it, '...pleasure are my concerns in this space.' He began to wonder what that even meant when the hand which, up until now, had been placed by his side began to move. He slipped it up and across Dirk's abdomen slowly, with what appeared to be either considerable strain or nerves. In truth it was neither. He had to be gentle at first. Not as gentle as he would be with most, but he was still unsure how this soft, pink boy would feel in his grip or pressed under his body. He had never managed to touch one of them before. He had no idea if the slightest touch would cause that ruddy skin to blossom in bruises, or if a squeezed grip around his calloused hands would shatter the bones within. So, as much as it pained him, he had show patience and reverence.
He was no blue-blooded Troll, that was for sure, but he seemed to carry an air of nobility around him. A Prince, of course. He focused on the feel of crumpling abdominal muscles beneath his shaking palm, tensing as he trailed it over each one. The material of his deified trappings was bothersome, but necessary for the time being. Necessary to savor the moment when he – a lowly heir, a usurper – would reveal his glory.’

Dirk tensed up, realizing only now that he was bound to the table by shackles around his wrists and ankles. He felt the clawed fingers trailing his navel and instinctively went taught, arching into the leathery material behind him. The chair wasn’t identical to the dentist’s he was used to, and the more he saw of the ‘room’ they were in, the more he realised that his surroundings were warping, pulsating in and out of fractions of his reality and, presumably, the troll’s.
‘What the hell?’ He mused, staring down with mild horror. If that was even a goddamn thing. He was amazed at his own tolerance; at the fact he wasn’t repulsed immediately by this flagrant disregard for his personal space and freedom. The hand on his belly had begun to move up to his chest now, the owner breathing more heavily with each ministration of his shuddering digits.
‘If you would like me to stop…I am afraid I cannot comply unless you exact force.’ Equius focused on the feel of the human’s skin beneath his robes. The cloth was smooth and soft, thin enough to carry heat through. He marvelled over how well he was reacting to his touch; he had expected more resistance than this, and was all the more besotted to find his unwitting partner vaguely compliant.

'So,' Dirk tried to keep the conversation casual, mostly to relax himself. Didn't want to stir up a ruckus. 'Which one are you? I'm, guessing you aren't the ratty, angry one. And you don't seem like the crippled one...'
All little probing questions to ascertain the nature of his relationship to the trolls currently among the living, Equius supposed. He didn't want to think about any of the possible disparaging nicknames he might have been granted. An injustice he would correct swiftly.
'No, you are correct. I am neither of those.' His hands continued to skate across Dirk's body. 'I am the Heir of Void.' He was sure, even behind the glasses, he saw the boy's eyes roll. Evidently not the answer he required. '...and my name? Is Equius.' He loomed over the table, allowing his broad shoulders to block out the shafts of light pouring down onto him from the lamp.

Dirk continued to stare. It was abundantly clear that there was (MATHS) % chance that this guy was going to attempt to sex him up, and he wasn’t really sure how to feel about that. He had an inclination that in ‘reality’ – or whatever the fuck the game world they’d been existing in for some time now could be called – he would not have been so docile. For some reason the feel of another’s eager, definitely male touch against his body was somehow welcome. The troll certainly appeared to be applying quite a lot of restraint, even although his statement had implied that he intended their liaison to be non-consensual.

Equius' eyes wandered over his prone captive, pre-empting the sharp trail of his claws with a glance here or there. His invitation to best him had gone unanswered, save for a low moan as his hand brushed against the sensitive nub of his nipple. The troll had great difficulty suppressing a shudder of excitement as the Prince's form wound underneath his talons. He watched his hips arch almost involuntarily, the material blushing against his body. Such a deep red; dark and heavy, loaded with reminders of his past life as a slave to his culture's prejudices. But oh, how he loved those reminders.
But the dark crimson cloth was no longer enough to satisfy the desire welling inside him, spilling out through his fingers in increasingly desperate touches. No, now he needed something paler, something altogether more...
His nails tore easily through the embroidered pink heart, straight through to the flushed skin beneath. The expanse of skin was slowly revealed as thread upon thread tore lose, ripping and flaring with the most satisfying sounds. He couldn't bring himself to draw blood yet, so remained satiated by the changing colors of the trails his hands and claws left in their wake. Pink turned to white, turned to red, all framed by sandy speckles which trickled down across his shoulders and the top of his chest. These aliens possessed so many colours, he pondered, as if being constantly lacquered by some unseen hand of emotion.

'Hey...' Dirk's voice cracked a little more than he'd have liked it to. 'You any idea the hell I went thr-' a claw dug in underneath his ribcage, a little too sharply, '-ESUS CHRIST!' Almost instantly it was retracted and a slight glimmer of uncertainty appeared on the troll's face before it was shaken away. He returned to removing his hard earned clothes with nothing but sharp nails and determination and, secretly, he thanked him for it. He wasn't about to admit it, but the attention was almost welcome and all thoughts of potential necroxenophilia could damn well wait until he woke up. He never had to justify dreams about slipping some fuzzy, phallic muzzle 'twixt his nethers so he didn't see why this particular scenario – just a dude (troll) who very obviously (dead troll) wanted to bang the shit out of him – should be all that different.

His ruined princess dress aside, his frustration was building to critical mass. The troll was being painfully deliberate with each stroke and scratch like he knew exactly what to do to make him buckle, but the fact that he was completely avoiding the silken clad erection now burning at his groin was almost insulting. He didn't want to have to beg for this. He fucking refused to beg. For a little while longer, at least. It was a shame more of the trolls didn't look like this. Thickly muscled, broad and imposing, beads of sweat rolling down the perfectly carved torso. He looked like something from the cover of one of those muscle queen magazines Dirk used to steal glances at in the Korean convenience store back home. The old lady (mental note, possibly a dinosaur) had quirked an eyebrow after catching him one time, but he'd just brazenly slammed it on the counter and asked if she could give him the number of that Mexican bear who came in on Saturdays. You know, to work out the kinks. That was the fifth store he'd been invited to never come back to.

Equius noted the increased frequency of the rise and fall of the Prince's chest, as well as the darting motions of his eyes. Those gasps and hitches in his breath sounded less and less like protests and more and more like bursts of passion, as those fingers trimmed the cuffs, searching for a buckle or clasp or anything to break him free of the restraints. He was fairly sure that the strength this human had displayed was more than enough to free himself of his bonds, however, here he lay. Still a captive. Perhaps...perhaps he was not the only one to play these games of helplessness?

Chapter Text

The only thing keeping Dirk from moaning aloud was sheer grit and determination. He clenched his hands tightly against the straps at his wrists as yet more sketchy welts bloomed on his torso. He rolled his head back and screwed his eyes shut at one long stroke that trailed down and over the sizeable swelling between his legs. There, the troll stopped, stooping to kneel and placing his hands over the waistband of his pants. He practically peeled them off of his legs, slowly pulling the material over his body, carefully undressing him. His alien features were tantalizingly close to Dirk’s dick as he tugged his costume down, finally letting the throbbing organ spring free of its trappings. He stared at it for a long time, tilting his head to the side and examining the length with ghosting fingers; never allowing himself to touch, but perhaps being lewder by not doing so. It took all of Dirk’s willpower not to buck up into the stranger’s embrace, to rub against him in a desperate attempt at some form of relief. He forced himself not to, a small warning at the back of his mind lingering. A warning that said very clearly, very plainly; Look At Those Teeth.

For some reason the troll left the trousers pooled around his ankles, as though their presence somehow emphasized how naked and vulnerable his prey was. Dirk was panting pretty heavily, his dick twitching with arousal and his whole body flushing an uncharacteristically bashful red. The troll seemed content to watch him writhe and plead silently, apparently getting a kick out of knowing how crazy he was driving him. Eventually Dirk snapped, allowing himself to slip.

‘Are you just gonna sit there and stare like a priest in a playground? Or are you actually going to fuck me?’

Equius raised his eyebrows at that. He stood up again, staring at Dirk’s face, his mouth curling into a smile as he saw the determination in his expression. He had been very pleased to hear him confirm, formally, what he’d already guessed was the case; this man was enjoying his attention. Though the encounter was not proceeding anywhere close to the way he had anticipated it would, he couldn’t say that he was unhappy with the divergence. After all, compliance meant that there was a chance this would not be a one-time arrangement. The thought of that sent chills running up and down Equius’ spine.

‘ …I wonder. Who was it that said that you were the party who would be…‘fucked’?’ He smirked, trying not to seem too pleased. He had to maintain an air of calm about him. He had been planning this for months, watching and taking notes on his object of desire. The Prince, he had discovered, was fond of those who could control themselves. He placed his thumbs on the fibrous, springy skin of Dirk’s inner thighs, just either side of the modest human organ situated between them.

Dirk hummed, deep in his throat as the digits worked their way around the sensitive skin of his thighs. Still rubbing those frustratingly calculated trails like he had some map of his body and was working out the exact longest route to get him to Rocks Off City. Fuck, it felt good. Back in the waking world he hadn't exactly had much in the way of experience, but in here apparently he was the goddamn King of Stamina and Patience, although the latter was wearing thin.
'And I wonder, what's that supposed to mean anyway?' He hissed in through clenched teeth, drawing the breath cold over his tongue. He had a few ideas. More than a few, but damn if he didn't want to see this monster of a guy ask for it himself. Or maybe just take it. The light cast behind him bounced off his skin, now slick and beaded, and Dirk was convinced he could see heat literally rising from him. 'C'mon, in me or on me. What's your choice?' Staggered breaths clattered from him as he tried to keep his cool, remain calm and relaxed as a thick grey hand slipped further and further up, until he was cupping incredibly exposed balls.

Cupping was probably a bad choice of words. In reality, all he did was slide his hand underneath, letting then rest in the palm of his hand and ever so gently rock them back and forth, using just enough pressure as he did so to pull hurried, impassioned grunts from the boy in the ragged royal garments. But to Dirk? It felt like he was practically milking him. Equius found it very difficult to contain himself within the aloof, calm and mysterious persona he had constructed for the evening. The air of authority in Dirk's voice made his groin ache. He felt his thick bulge pulsing well and truly into life, coiling itself in anticipation. 'That would indeed depend on a number of factors. The first being this – was that, just now, an order?'

An eyebrow was raised. Dirk supposed that, on some level it probably had been an order. More of an instruction, if anything. He wasn’t sure whether or not giving directions to a powerful alien from his prone, spread position was a particularly smart thing to do. He couldn’t tell whether or not ‘yes’ was the desired response. He opted for honesty, deciding that backing down now would be a pretty poor show.
‘Yeah, alright. It was an order. An order to get a goddamn move on.’ Dirk wriggled his hips up, presenting himself for the troll, opening his legs as wide as his situation would allow. His cheeks were burning crimson, but he hoped that he looked flushed rather than embarrassed. The tactic seemed to work well, eliciting a bowed head and a gentle squeeze from his would-be molester. Dirk felt the pressure from his powerful hand tightening around his sac briefly and waves of pleasure rippled through him. He groaned out loud, losing it properly for the first time since he’d arrived.

Equius could barely control the monstrous throbbing between his legs. He relinquished his tentative touches for a moment to pull off his clothing. In truth he needn’t have physically performed the action as the dream bubbles allowed for a swift change of form, but he was assuming by this stage that his prostrate Prince would enjoy the show. He slipped his fingers underneath the hem of his top, deftly yanking it up and over his horns. He made sure to display as much of his muscular forearms and rippling pectorals as possible, keeping eye contact with the boy on in the chair the whole time. Once he was exposed, he reached up, hesitating a moment before removing his eyewear.

Behind the troll’s dark lenses hid a pair of deeply turbulent orange-yellow eyes, not unlike Dirk’s own hue. His pupils were tinted ever so slightly around the irises in a way that transfixed the human for a moment. He’d never really had a chance to stare at them before, and these particular ones were fixated on his birthday suit in a penetrating gaze. He said simply, ‘Hey.’
Equius smiled, glancing away briefly before focusing on the rest of his restrictive clothing. Clothing was, he felt, a pointless aggravation. Often he would wander around totally naked, so long as he was certain nobody was there to see. He’d always been more comfortable in his natural form, and didn’t truly understand why so many felt the need to hide their bodies. The crotch of his jeans was now rubbing at his bulge to the point of frustration. Unfastening them, he pulled it out between the zipper. Once they were down and off of his legs, he looked back up at the human he was about to mount and mirrored his words.


Dirk wasn't sure what he’d expected, but that wasn't quite it. Hanging between the taught thighs of the being before him was a snake of flesh. Instead of a solid shaft there was a long, tapered muscle – almost the length of his forearm, and just about as thick in places - that seemed to pulse and throb in a very literal way. It was as if it had a life of its own. He bit the bottom of his lip, staring at it in quiet awe. Even the vague idea of that thing slipping inside him made his stomach curl and flutter in ways that it hadn’t since…pretty much ever.

The human’s sly smile and glint of black glass greeted Equius once again, but now the obfuscation was becoming a severe irritation. The disparity needed to be corrected, no matter how the proud Prince might protest. He placed his hand back onto the leather of the chair, feeling how warm the thick hide had become underneath the friction and heat of the boy atop it.
He pulled back into the darkness and, somewhere inside, relished the guttural groan of disappointment from Dirk as his only source of relief sunk into blackness. He paced around the chair a few times, feeling more than a little predatory. Now he saw what Nepeta saw in this whole prowling business. When he reached the head of the table, he took his chance. 'Now my liege, I feel as though you should allow your subjects to look upon you.' He slipped one hand into the thick shock of blonde hair, entangling his fingers in the glossy strands. He could have lost himself in that simple act, but he had more pressing matters to attend to. His hand moved further down until he gripped one side of the glasses in an attempt to pull them gracefully fro--


'Hey! Those were--!' The frame shattered between Equius' fingers, sending small shards of black plastic and glass tumbling across one side of the chair while the remainder perched awkwardly on his nose. The large troll simply smiled and brushed them away, making sure to stare directly into Dirk's fiery eyes as he did so. Fiery indeed, like orange embers, or perhaps the eerie glow behind the eyes of one of his robotic creations. His cock twisted at the thought of that, and, without so much as a warning he arched his hips up, making sure they were well within his eye-line if he dared to look to the side.
Of course, Dirk couldn't help it. He glanced to where the glasses clattered to the floor and was face to face with his first close look at troll cock. Apparently Equius wanted to give him a real taste of what he was in store for.