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Last Summers Children

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You two are men now.

Well, you will be. Soon.

You don’t remember what had been going through your mind when you had agreed to this, and you don’t think Dirk does either. It’s all very distressing, but you can’t decline him any more than he can decline you. After all, pinky promises are weighty things, especially between two twelve year old boys in the rain.

But then again, when you are twelve, you don’t always understand what it is you are agreeing on.

It is with a weary sigh he removes his shades, you watch him from the edge of his bed and feel yourself flush, drawing your legs under you. Where is your sense of adventure?

“You okay?” he asks you, peeling off his singlet and bending at the waist to check his hair in the mirror that at once upon a time he struggled to see himself in.

“Absolutely, chum.”

Your voice is flat but tight with anxiety. It’s lacking a lot of what you would usually call your zazzle, which is unusual because you dodn’t usually make a habit of fear. It’s just that this has been coming up for a while, and you honestly never thought that… well. You never thought it would actually happen. At least not… now. You thought that by now, you would feel different, to the way you felt all that time ago.


He says it because it’s the thing to say, not because it’s actually how he feels.

You have known Dirk Strider long enough to read the micro gestures which betray the thoughts someone usually wouldn’t notice. You can see that even though he looks the part, his shoulders broad, his arms thick with muscles and his stomach bearing a soft, pale line of pubic hair from his belly button down, he thinks the same. He feels no different now than he did when he was shrimpy and little, like a weed in a garden of girls and glamorous puberty. He trusts you enough that by now the freckles on his back and the unusual colour of his exotic, sensual eyes are not alien, you don’t really think on them as you observe the lighting, golden toned and complementary, that slides over the planes of his body through the open window. The autumn evenings are growing shorter, and you ache for the gay days of summer just been, in which you wasted hours doing crazy, childish things that maybe you might never get to do again. Things like go small bore shooting, teaching Dirk (who was a horrible shot) how to load a gun and laughing when he dropped the weapon and almost shot the supervisors foot. Neither of you were allowed back after that. What too about the time you had fallen in the lake, when all you were supposed to have been doing was a picnic in the city park? Oh you had just been so irked, sliming your way out of that sludgey black water and flinging a handful at weed at him because oh the bugger deserved it, smirking in that way taking pleasure from your suffering. By jingoes. You just had to teach him a lesson, didn’t you?

The bad movies, the ice cream, the countless hours spent lurking in the home wares aisle of walmart. It all adds up to days and days of youth that you will never get back, of time in which you didn’t need to be responsible, or anything, because you could just be silly and have a smashing time by the right of being fifteen. Fifteen years, it was a good age to be.

You look down at your legs, observing the darkness of your tan, and the hair on your legs that hadn’t been there in May. The muscles in your stomach explain that you no longer have the body of such a boy, and it’s about time you buck up and start acting like an adult. After all, one day you have to get married! You have to have kids, you have to watch them grow up too.

But sometimes you wish that you could just not. That you could run away to Neverland, a tropical island a million miles away and climb trees and play games and shot things recklessly forever, with an internet connection and a million movies. And Dirk. If you could have one thing on your dream island, it would be Dirk. Sure, he would probably complain, and freckle, and make snide and ridiculous comments, but Dirk is your best friend. He has been since forever. And though sometimes you have a hard time understanding what goes on in that good old noggin of his you think that life without Dirk would be a lopsided existence. It wouldn’t be youth, and it would be no fun at all.

Besides, it is Dirk who really pressed for this. He is the one so much more affected by the expectations of society. Things like manliness and coolness are important to him. Things like looking good for his friends. Hei a good guy, but he is only a human fellow, and what human fellow didn’t sometimes betray what may or may not have been what they really want in order to satisfy the demands of those masses.

Essentially, it had been Dirk who suggested it. The idea that the average age for first time sex around these parts was sixteen fascinated him, even as a pre-pubescent wonder who barely knew what the word meant. Thinking that three years was so far away, you had agreed that okay, to make him cool, to make him special, you would help him get there before that if he hadn’t found a girlfriend. You had said that you would have sex with him. Well… it made sense at the time.

“You needn’t do this if you really don’t want to Jake.” He undoes his fly and you are startled from your musings, you shake the glitter from your mind and give him a small smile.

“Are you joking, my dear friend? A promise is a promise you know, I do believe I made one.”

“I know. But that was… it was different then.”

“I know.” You look away from him as he removes his jeans, taking off your glasses and folding them carefully, to set on his side table.

It’s not going to be that bad, really. He is Dirk, after all. Some part of you always believed that you would end up in this position with him someday. Maybe not so soon but all the same. It’s not the closeness that scares you, or the fact that your chum is in fact also male. It’s more… that it seems like a very old thing to do. You think you should perhaps not reflect on it too much, or you might loose your nerve.

The bed sinks a little when he drops beside you, and you feel your lips twitch nervously when he touches your cheek. His fingers are slim and cool, you like them very much. All the same, your breath catches when he strokes them up to cradle the side of your face.

“Hey, Jake, I can’t do this if you don’t look at me.”

“Hm? Oh yes, my apologies.”

“… I can’t do this if you’re going to talk like that either.” He tucks a lock of dark hair behind your ear and you blush, clearing your throat. This is very awkward a situation…


“Sh.” He kisses you briefly, and you almost fall backwards in shock. You don’t know why, but you never thought of… kissing him. But then of course he would expect you to kiss him. People didn’t have sex without kissing. This was your first kiss, and… it was surprisingly pleasant.

“… Okay.”

The tiniest of smiles teases his lips and he kisses you again briefly. And then again. And then you find the bravery you have always valued in yourself and lift your own hand, rearranging yourself on the bed and letting him guide you backwards an increment. You ‘oof!’ carelessly when you fall into the pillows and he makes a light snuffling sound, creeping his lips across your chin and to your jaw, which feels strange but you feel it all the way down your spine for some reason. It tickles almost, but unlike tickles you don’t feel the instinct to push him away. Actually, nothing about this goes against your instincts, they are lying around inside of you pretty placid right about now. It’s just your nerves that are ringing, vibrating with the question ‘maybe I should stop’.

“Dirk.” He’s moving too fast, you pull him up, entreating him stop for just a moment so you can get your bearings. “Hang on.”

“Sorry.” His eyes scan your face for any hint you might want to give up entirely. “I don’t actually have a clue what I’m doing.”

“Nor I, so lets just stick with the classics now shall we?” your lips pucker briefly in an invitation and his mouth twitches.

“I guess.”

And then he closes you in, the smell of his soap and his sweat, musky and delicious, floods you.

Kissing is weird. It’s luxurious, slow, and rich, but weird. Or at least you think its supposed to be, Dirks kisses are only minimally better than yours and at first it’s a little wet, and a bit impatient, but after a while when his arms get tired and he drops from propping his body above you to supporting himself against your chest things begin to slow, and you stop focusing on points like the awkward way your one leg is bent up or how stupid a thing kissing actually is in actuality in order to just feel. To just relax and be aware solely of the fact that his lips are touching yours, and it is actually pretty good, and by now he is beginning to suck, to lick, to nibble which only added to the sensate blur. A fast learner, there is very little in this world Dirk could not pull off to perfection after a little experiment to establish his level and some careful exploration to bring that level up to scratch. This is not the first thing you have felt him excel at upon first finding his way.

The precise nature of his mouth, the way it yields, tastes, and feels, belongs to the particular instances of qualia one must experience before defining, no accurate terms really exist to describe it however complex your vocabulary or delicate your expressive constructs.  You think that at gunpoint, you would say they are generous, but frigid with underlying shyness which perhaps seems invisible to people who wouldn’t have known Dirk so well as you. He’s warm, his breath brushes your lips gently when the pair of you part occasionally for air, and the sound of kissing echoes loudly in the background of your thoughts which eventually ease, and train solely on Dirk. You reach for his face, holding him with shaking hands and attempt for the first time to guide this kissing business. He takes the passive role, lips parting and allowing the tip of your tongue to flicker nervously over his. You are surprised how little teeth get in the way, since the first few awkward bites and clacks they have just sort of worked and you are appreciative.

Carefully, chasing his kisses, you find yourself tumbling over him, and lying between his thighs you begin to lead, forgetting about all caution and sinking deeply into the little world you are creating. He is beginning to respond not just orally but bodily now, his hands starting to roam from your waist. You drag the tip of your nose along the blade of his and suck lightly on his bottom lip. You dive in, and your tongue swoops deeper that it has before, tying against his briefly and plotting the extent of his mouth, mapping un-explored territory.

His hands stop moving and he makes a noise, pulling backwards.

“Careful.” He murmurs, “It’s not actually a great feeling having someone’s tongue down my throat.”

His lips are glossy with saliva, you flush brightly and apologise, but he shushes you.

“It’s okay Jake, you’re allowed to get carried away.” He pecks your mouth briefly before falling back against the pillow. “You were doing good before. Try again.”

You smile a little, amused and flustered. You are starting to feel a bit turned on. Not overly, it’s more like a cosy feeling of warm in your stomach right now, but if the two of you can work this right, you might be able to kindle it into some sort of lust. This might actually happen.

And the thought instantly fills you with nervousness again and the warmth is doused cold.

“Um…” you struggle to remember your prior train of thought. “You just can’t turn down an opportunity to develop me as a person, can you chap?”

“What? Develop your kissing skills?”

“Precisely. Wasn’t this just to have sex?”

He shrugged. “The personal development comes as a freebie. Don’t pass it up.”

He taps your shoulder impatiently and you sigh, pressing your lips on his with little of the previous co-ordination. Once again you find yourself distracted, out of the zone and clumsy. You make a mess, and you can tell by the way he tries to reign you in with his teeth and irate murmurs he’s trying to get you to relax but you can’t. You’re starting to panic the more he tries to control you, and the more you panic the ore he tries to calm you down, and you’re beginning to do the tongue shoving thing again and your teeth are clacking and its not working and the pressure oh god what do you do…

“Jake!” he sputters, pushing you away. “What are you trying to do eat me?”

“I’m sorry I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing and I’m a little bit nervous!”

“Fucking hell Jake.” He pushes you off and you are hurt to see that he’s looking somewhat irate. You flop backward and pout, pride bruised, feeling more like a kid than ever before.

“Open your legs.” He pats your thigh sharply and huffing you oblige to make him room. He moves between them and shuffles you both down into a more central position on the bed.

“Right. Try again.”

He wets his lips swiftly and moves back in.

He starts slow again, with a gentle peck, which multiplies and becomes several all over your lips and chin and jaw, which he really seems to like for some reason. You end up having to guide him back up from your neck and reattach his lips to yours, and it feels nice to have that warmth back. Your lips have bloomed, hot and sensitive, and his are soft. It takes all of two minutes to get back into the rhythm, and when you do you find it its easy, you loose yourself completely in the feeling, mindful only of his kissing and sucking and tongue oh god his tongue.

You pull him close, running your hands over his shoulders, the skin smooth and speckled with the most shallow spattering of acne scarring at the nape of his neck. His cheek feels rough with invisible stubble, scraping against yours as he descends to your left ear, against which his breathing sounds short and heavy and his tongue burns delectably. You are aware of the feeling right down in your stomach, and t tickles, and you are horny again at least enough to want to make out with him a little more violently, your hands pulling to his waist which you have never noticed before is perfectly shaped and wonderful. The wetness of his longue, lapping at the shell of your ear, cools almost as soon as he pulls away, and you are a little short of breath, hesitating for a moment before reaching up to push his hair aside and running your fingers over his ear experimentally.

“I didn’t realise they were sensitive.”

An unfamiliar but far from unpleasant expression flickers over his face, and he tips his head into your hand as you massage softly. His lips are very dark, and his cheeks have taken on a ruddy hue which blends with his freckles, smoothing them. Half cast eyes, still sharp behind the dreaminess, pull over you, and he smiles just a little.

“Everywhere is, stupid. You just need to focus on it.”

You suppose that is true, because you can feel every point he is touching you too, warm with that same understated wellness and hemmed only a little bitterly by your nerves. You think that you could stop here, you are happy with this. It’s a gratifying sensation and you aren’t yet so aroused that stopping would be detrimental, but then you scold yourself. You are going to do this.

“Now what?” you ask him, searching for a little bit of direction. His eyes flutter and he sighs.

“Not sure, I thought it would just evolve.”

“Has it?”

He smiles a tiny, impish smile that makes your heat leap because it’s so alien, but so becoming, you wish you had’ve been able to get a photo.

“A little.” He kisses your forehead and you bite your grin, sliding your hand from his ear to the nape of his neck.

This isn’t too bad. You thought it would have been a bit hotter by now, but then nothing ever really turns out how you imagined. You hadn’t thought there would be so much whispering, or hesitance, you had fancied it would all play out like a porn movie or something but you are definitely not complaining. You like this was much better, it feels right, being able to talk under your breath with him. You hope it stays this relaxed. If it does, your racing heart might survive the interaction. You might survive to adventure another day.

“I um… did you want me to…” with the hand not rubbing his nape you spider walk your fingers across his stomach. His body stiffens and he shakes his head.

“No, not right now. More foreplay.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed, you withdraw your hand. Fancy that, running at things like a bull at a gate. You really are a virgin aren’t you? Stupid stupid little boy. “Right. My apologies.”

He shushes you, and collapses on your chest, dragging you sideways so you are lying parallel, face to face. It is uncomfortable, you don’t really know what to do with the arm caught between your body and the mattress, so you end up manoeuvring it behind you and leaning back into him for more pashing. He is getting a bit more daring now, enticing you to poke your tongue out for him to tangle with. You can’t tell if his kissing is aggressive, like he would want his dick in you, or submissive, like he would want to ride the everloving fuck out of yours. This seems like an important point, and you are distracted momentarily by the fact you never stopped to ask this beforehand.

“Dirk? D-Dirk hold your horses for a moment?”

He pauses, face buried in your throat, hands working through you hair in a very agreeable way.


“Um… what is the actual plan again? That is to say… who fucks who?”

Dirk is silent for a moment, and then says “would it bother you if I put it in?”

It would, a little bit, but you don’t want to say no. He senses your withholdings though, because he rubs your chest reassuringly.

“You can have a turn too. We can switch.”

This isn’t much comfort, but it’s some. You nod stiffly and bury your nose in his crown. Your arousal is ebbing again, you wonder if it’s normal to be like this, distracted and then lulled back again, dancing ever closer to the inescapable sex. He sighs.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s just I really want to cum in your ass Jake. Just once. If you don’t mind.”

You freeze for a moment, and he must feel the tension draw in your muscles because he wiggles.

“Sorry.” He repeats, but you don’t hear him. Dirk is an ass man, you know that. It was one of the first thing you had learned when the two of you began the journey into the wonderful world of sexual development, and just like he somehow knows you love the idea of having your hair stroked, pulled, and kissed. Which explains his apparent fascination with tangling his fingers in it. This acknowledgement of your turn-ons touches you, in a way that isn’t just emotional, and you feel for the first time a stirring of lust fuelled not by desire but genuine affection. You find this to be much more exciting, and much sweeter. Okay, you decide. You will let him fuck your ass.

“Now you’re apologising.” You point out, skating your one handed touch over the bowl shaped curve of his side. “I think we need some kind of gentleman’s agreement in place about that. No more apologies, okay?”

He smirks and you can feel it.

“Sure thing, bro.”

You smile and tip his face up to kiss him.

In that moment you don’t really think about how to get from here to there, but that’s okay because he seems to have cottoned onto that already, migrating from your neck to your collarbone, tongue flicking briefly over the dips which describe it. He kisses your chest and caresses one pec through the loose cotton of your tee, and you are randomly and ludicrously proud that you go to the gym in that instant, because you have a damn fine body thanks and any man on earth should be honoured to kiss it.  

“So Jake, are you ready?”

“I guess?” you don’t really understand what he’s asking, and you let him guide you backward, thinking that this sex business sure does have a lot of rearranging and position shifting.

“good.” He waits, the thing he is debating with himself to say clearly on the tip of his tongue. “You don’t want to back out or anything?”

“… No.”

You kind of do, but you aren’t going to. No way. Not now.

He swallows, and this is followed by a soft mutter in a voice you recognise as his on accent alone. Gone is the usual confidence, though it shakes back into existence maybe half a sentence in, everything is bare.

“I’m going to suck your dick okay?”

There’s another moment of silence, in which you think he must be looking to you for some sort of response, but you can’t give one because your mind is still whirling from what he said. Voice still wavering he carries on.

“I’m going shove up that shirt and lick my way right down your chest, rubbing my hands over your nipples and sucking them one at a time between my lips. I’m going to leave hickeys on your stomach, and eat out your belly button, and stroke my tongue all the way down to the hem of these goddamned shorts. When I get there, I’m going to put my mouth around your cock and suck through the fabric, so you can feel the heat just enough to drive you wild.”

To embellish this gradually smoothing description, he sweeps a hand between your legs and you gasp, because even though it’s through your cargo shorts and your cock isn’t hard yet, it’s still the first time anyone else has ever placed their hand in such a place. He presses it down and carries on, shifting back up so you can hear and feel every diphthong, every shallow breath he takes, against your ear.

“I want to hear you ask real sweet, and maybe then I will pop open that fly, slide down the zipper, and tug your shorts right around your ankles. I’m going to spread your legs and trace your cock through your knickers, which I know are them green y-fronts you like. You’re going to be panting now, gasping for me, but I’m gunna tease you real good, running my tongue up from your ankle, lifting your leg over my shoulder and licking the back of your knee, before sweeping right up to where you want me and pushing up your leghole with my tongue so I can lick a little at your balls. By now your dicks going to be screaming for me, but before I will give I’m going to pull of your underwear, throw it aside, and shove open your legs again so that I can see everything. And depending on how well I can reach, I might have to throw you over onto your stomach ‘cause baby I am going to eat your fucking ass, lick you out and make you howl, and tongue fuck you until your dick starts leaking all over these sheets.”

You make a humiliating nose at this, the very idea of having someone’s tongue up the butt would normally terrify and disgust you, but in that instant it just seems so devastatingly hot you can’t breathe. Well, perhaps that is on account of the air, which seems to be thickening in your chest? You can’t tell. Maybe it is his voice, having relaxed back into its rich, rumbling tone, his accent sexy even when he isn’t talking about licking up your asshole. Maybe you are just loosing it. Yeah that must be it. You try desperately to cling to the kernel of immaturity which would otherwise tell you that this was dumb, and not appealing to you at any way at all.

He squeezes your crotch, massaging it gently through the cloth, and it’s beginning to heat up a lot now, you feel it stiffen into a respectable semi, his panting in your ear filling the space words had a minute before.

“Good god Dirk…”

“Shh sweetheart I’m not done yet.”

Goddamn he’s smooth! You whimper and open your eyes a crack, the ceiling blurs into focus but offers you nothing. You only realise when you see it that your eyes have slipped closed, and you shut them again when he resumes speaking.

“Maybe after a while you will want me, you can watch me wet my fingers with lube and stroke you, put my fingers inside you and god I can imagine it, I can feel your thighs tighten now already, and your back arch because its going to hurt but its going to feel so good. I’m going to touch you, wiggle my finger around until I find your prostate or magic button or whatever you want me to call it I don’t know, and massage that baby like it’s my goddamned job. I want to lick it, to suck it into my lips and make you scream, but I can’t. You’re just going to have to settle for my fingers, from one to two than three, so much lube everywhere that it drips down my wrist and wets the sheets. Are you okay?”

He hesitates when you take a short, catching breath. All the blood in your body seems to have diverged, that which isn’t in your dick is pumping in your face, burning your cheeks and obscuring your train of thought. Your chest is tight, though, like there’s something weighty on it, restricting your breath, and it’s a major discomfort. Goddamnit! Your stupid body would mess this up! You should have predicted so much, nerves always had this unfortunate habit of working your asthma up. You whimper helplessly and shake your head.

“Yeah.” You manage. “Give… me a… sec…”

“Ah fuck it.” he sits up promptly and moves of the bed. “Do you have your inhaler?”

You nod and gesture to your bag on his desk. Of course, now would be the moment for you to have an attack. Twelve years of minimal aggravation and suddenly Bronchial chaos.


He throws you your inhaler and you take a dose, coughing because goddamn that shits horrible to down, and set the device on the bedside. You have to wait a moment before you can have another dose, and while you are trying to swallow the pain of it all he sits back beside you and starts rubbing your back, the region between you shoulder blades, and not only is it pleasant you find it somewhat easeful.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he double checks and you nod weakly, running your hands through your hair. It’s damp with sweat, were things really getting that steamy up in here?

“Just a minor… lapse in confidence.” Feeling better, but still not entirely comfortable, you raise your inhaler again and take another dose. His rubbing is pleasant and helpful. He nods sympathetically and you note in the corner of your eye that he looks very pale, lips pursed and unusually dark, his gaze a little less purposeful than usual.

“God Jake…” he speaks with a sorrowful impatience. “Don’t force yourself.”

“I’m not forcing anything! No one is forcing anything, this is just considerably different to something so trivial as abseiling or bungee jumping.”

“… Bungee jumping?” he looks at you in question and you huff, drawing your knees to your chest protectively. Your inhaler bounces on the bed beside you. You are feeling stupidly argumentative, hiding your embarrassment and bruised pride behind a firm pout.


Dirk regards you for a moment, hand on your back pausing, and then resigns, nudging you softly so he can get comfortable beside you and pulling you down beside him on the bed. He kicks up the duvet expertly, pulling it over you both even though it’s only early in the evening, and right up over your heads. You wiggle under the blanket obligingly but don’t speak, watching him move with accusatory regards. Your jaw is uncommonly tight.

“Remember when we were little we used to make blanket huts in the lounge, and my brother used to get all shitty because we pulled the sheets of his bed to do it?”

You think back critically and then nod. He hums and his arms, warm, big things of luxurious firmness, snake around your shoulders. Without his hands propping up the duvet, it falls in your face, and the dimness is complete. You can just make out his nose and lips, in the crack of light creeping through one of the blanket gaps.

He leaves this train of thought be, any expansion on it deserted when he presses a kiss to your temple, and the gesture seems much more intimate under here. Its much safer a feeling too, the warmth and claustrophy creating an atmosphere of security and isolation from the outside world. Time slows, and you are suddenly keenly aware of his warmth, his smell, and the feeling of heavy feather filled cotton over your body. You snuggle your face in his chest and exhale deeply when his hands explore your waist, your hips, and your sides. They stray a little lower on occasion, brushing lightly over the swell of your behind, and each time they do so your heart leaps.

He was always good at calming you down. You were always good at getting worked up, and he was always good at calming you down.

Soon your consciousness begins to slip away, and the world shrinks to contain just you and him, and his affectionate touching, and the gentle kisses he lays on your crown. His lips are an entity in their own right, caressing your face and then you mouth, and his hands too take the time to wander and stroke the small of your back, pulling you against him tightly and lovingly. A leg creeps slowly between yours, and with a little grunt he is on top of you, pressing you into the mattress and letting his mouth rain on your throat, your chest, your stomach. It tickles, and to distract him you comb your fingers through his locks and tug gently, steering him back up to your chest, which surprises you because you didn’t plan it, it is just a thing that happens and you suppose it has something to do with instinct you aren’t sure. You know though that it was a good decision when he pushes up your shirt and starts kissing your nipples, lapping his tongue over them one at a time and then stopping when it comes to the right side so he can suck and nibble and rub the other one with his left hand. His body feels heavier against you like this, and you are suddenly aware of the blanket over your face being perhaps stifling, but you cant find it in yourself to care really because his tongue is flicking one last time and he’s moving, running his nose over the contours of your body and pausing at your belly button to tongue and suck at it, and then much to your frustration killing the moment by blowing a raspberry.


“Haha, gotcha.”

He’s taking this much too calmly. Is it because he is ready for this, or because he’s really turned on by now? You can’t tell, and it doesn’t matter, because honestly the way he resumes tracing the point of his tongue around the dip of your navel is so genuine and sexy that you actually feel embarrassed that you aren’t ragingly horny. He really is into this, isn’t he? God those fingers touching your sides feel good but they aren’t even shaking. Is he no longer worried? Obviously lust has blocked any perception of nervousness he had to start with.

He undoes your cargo shorts and tugs them down to your ankles. It’s done with such ease that you don’t even realise until afterwards, when he’s running his palm over your lower stomach unbridled.

You tense when this touch tickles over your waist and tugs at the elastic of your underwear, pulling the band down inch by inch and following it with his kisses. Your hips slope downward as he progresses, back lifting off the mattress and probably creating a strange shape with the duvet tenting over you. A cold sweat prickles the back of your neck, your breath catches, but you force yourself to relax because you aren’t having a repeat performance of the asthma thing. No way.

He’s kissing at the base of your cock now, probably nose deep in pubic hair, and that makes you positively groan in humiliation. Too late now though. Clearly, he’s not bothered. Your underwear is slid partway down your thighs and a hand secures around your partially erect length. Your nipples are throbbing, impatient for more attention, and wondering for the first time in your life why Dirk was born with only one mouth you move a hand to pinch at one as he sucks the head of your penis into his mouth and taps at it with his tongue. He’s a terrible tease, pulling off as soon as he’s done this and probably licking his lips or something you don’t know. The fact you can’t see him amplifies the sensation, because where you can feel his breath and his body weight you can imagine what he might be doing, but you can’t really be sure…

A warm flutter of air touches you and you shiver, trying to open your legs a little but meeting elasticised resistance when you do.

“Oh gosh!” in impatience you move your hips, trying to imply he should take them off, but he does not. Instead he kisses down the inside of your thigh to where you feel the cloth stretched over it and licks along that line cruelly. You want to kick him, but if you do that he’s not going to want to do this any more is he? You have finally started getting hot and bothered about this, you aren’t going to blow it.

“Want something, hon?”

Oh god he’s doing that thing again, where he’s talking in his sex voice and playing up his twang, and his lips almost brush your skin but not quite. It rumbles up your body and makes you squirm.

“B-be a good sport, aye chum?”

“Sure.” He nuzzles in between your thighs and his cheek rubs against your balls. His hair fucking tickles damnit. “Just tell me what you want me to do. Don’t think about it too hard, you’ll break the atmosphere…”

You don’t think about it to hard, which is a small miracle considering the nature of what’s going on.

“My briefs and shorts Dirk. Can you divest me of them? P-please?”

“I’m sure I can do that.”

And although you can’t see it the blankets hump when he kneels back and tugs your underwear and trousers down your legs, only to press the newly freed limbs open as wide as they can go and drop back beneath them, where by now your penis is hard and thrumming. He strokes his tongue languidly up the back, and you moan, bending your knees up for better stability and ceasing your nipple play. You want to be able to drive this, and that means gripping his hair like it’s the last thing holding you to earth.

As you have already established, Dirk Strider is a horrible tease. His lips pulled at your foreskin and his tongue flickers over the very tip of your cock but he never quite does enough to gratify you, at least not until a long, agonised keen escapes you, and he decides it will be fun to stop massaging the line where your thighs join into hip and grip your erection with both hands, lips taking the top three centimetres in and applying gentle suction. It’s wonderful, and it’s a testament to his great skill and discipline that further, after all of three seconds doing this, he swallows briefly and then descends, taking your entire length down his throat and pausing for a moment, and then sliding back up. He moves his hands over your hips, to hold you still because hotdamn if you had half the chance to skull fuck him right now you would, and repeats this four or five times. Each time he does it you moan, ascending in volume and scale. Has he practiced this? How long has this been on Dirk’s mind? These questions flood your brain with each pulse of pleasure, mixed with the ohs and mercy mes and fasters that you almost utter but not quite. The blankets over you feel suddenly very sensual, every nerve ending in your body is alight and as you slowly hold his head, indulging in the blind ecstasy of feeling him go down on you, you have a heart stopping realisation. Specifically, that Dirk Strider, your best friend and easily the most beautiful guy you’ve ever met, has your boner inside his mouth, and is essentially sucking your virginity away bit by glorious bit.

Wow. Oh wow wow wow.

You quiver excitedly, lifting your hips closer to feel Dirks breath brush over your privates, and groan.


He doesn’t respond, unsheathing your cock from his throat instead, and the cool air is a sharp contrast to the velvet of his cheeks and tongue. You hear a wet noise, and you suppose it must be the sound of him wiping his mouth, and then he exhales.

“Change of plans, English, how would you like to put it in me instead?”

Honestly, you don’t care.

He pushes the blankets out of the way and you wince when the light shines bright in your face. You loose your hands from his hair to shield your eyes and hiss, and he pays you no attention, leaning over your body and retrieving some KY jelly and a condom from the set place by his alarm clock. What a precise set up. He straightens your inhaler too, before kneeling up, removing his boxers with no shame, and shaking out his rumpled blonde hair.

It’s the first time you’ve seen Dirk strider naked, and if you weren’t turned on before no way could you not be horny now.

The first thing you notice is that his pubic hair is blonde. Not like… pale brown or peachy or light but blonde, the exact gold of his hair. It’s also neatly trimmed and looks incredibly sexy against his ridiculously pale skin. His dick is great, not as big as yours which you note with a dash of pride but great, and its rock hard and flushed at the head, miraculous considering all he’s done so far is suck you off a little. He doesn’t even seem to notice, tossing the condom at you and unscrewing the lid off the lube. You struggle to prop yourself up and think you remember how to put a condom on, but you aren’t sure. Oh god you are thinking about things again…

“How do I…”

“Just roll it on.” He glances at you and shuffles around, so once again you are sitting side by side. Rather than stay there though, he sinks down the headboard and nuzzles against your arm for support. His legs bend up and fall open, and with his left hand he reaches down to touch himself, and your heart jumps because god almighty what is he doing?

“Want to watch?” he tips his face to yours and his bright copper eyes lock on for a moment. “Put that on and scoot around.”

You nod, fumbling with the wrapper and swearing when you drop the condom, finding it among the sheets and trying to get the damn thing on. It is cold, and slippery, and once it slips off and you had to try again. No easy rolling for this reckless adventurer, you like the challenge of pulling the thing on like some kind of penis-sized sock.

Actually, you are just inconsolably clumsy, and don’t want to admit it.

“Better practice that shit bro.” a little airier on his words Dirk shifts beside you and you sit up straight so he can move closer to the centre of the bed. “If I was a girl I wouldn’t let you fuck me with that, I could get pregnant.”

“Well. Fortunate that you aren’t then isn’t it?” you are deeply embarrassed by this comment, and try to negate it by kneeling up and turning around to face him. The bed creeks beneath you and he spreads his legs some more, for you to get a decent view of what he’s doing.

For a guy with two fingers that deep up his ass, Dirk sure does seem cool and calm.

Your stomach pulls and you have to set a hand on one of his knees. Such an alien, but sexy sight to behold. You can’t really explain why you find it arousing, the normal, sane part of your brain is shouting at you that its not, but when he tips his chin up at you just so and cocks an eyebrow, you almost turn into a puddle. What a total babe. Holy hell how had you not seen this before.

“Alright, Mister English?”

“Uh… absolutely smashing… Strider.”

“Pft.” Dirk rolls his eyes and reaches the hand not thrusting in and out of his body above his head, to grip the bar at the top of the bed. This pulls an exquisite ladder of muscles in his stomach, and you lean forward hungrily, curious and enchanted.

“How you feeling?” he asks you with a measurement of empathy, and you flush, but don’t look away from him.

“…unusual.” You choose as the word to describe it because as things are you do. You feel very unusual. Your heart is beating at hummingbird frequency and you are feeling stupidly shy but also deeply thrilled. You don’t feel any more like an adult than you did before he swallowed your cock with those fat, dark red lips but nor do you feel any more like a child. You feel like Jake English, really horny with the one person in the world you  trust and love most and you are genuinely excited to be sharing this with him. It’s not going anywhere near how you expected so far, but it’s fun, and you had never envisioned Dirk looking so fuckable in any of the scenarios you had previously exhausted in your mind.

“Good? Bad…?”

“Good, I believe…” you stare at the hand he is lancing himself with and curl your fingers in the sheets. “Does that not hurt at all?”

“A little.” He pulls himself up and extracts his fingers, they are glistening with lubricant, and the thread of gel which strings between his taint and fingertips is oddly erotic. Your dick twitches noticeably, and you swallow.


He gives you a little smile and reaches out the hand to grab your bicep. It’s wet, but warm, and you fold forward against him with no trouble, holding his waist and kissing his mouth and cheeks and neck. You realise suddenly that this is happening, honest to god it is, and he does too because suddenly he’s subdued and submissive, and his arms (both of them) snake around your neck, one leg hooks over the small of your back.

It’s time. After almost sixteen years, it’s finally time. One last breath, still a little stuffy thanks a lot asthma, and one last kiss.

“This is it, isn’t it?”

He nods.

“Yeah. Bring it.”

You chuckle and grate your hips over his, half expecting to just slip in. This is not the case, and after an impatient tisk from him you move your hand down to make the adjustments. Getting the head in is the hard part. Thanks to his generous lubricating, the rest glides in with no problem and the sound he makes when it happens is to die for.

It’s different from wanking yourself, there’s only one point of tightness and the rest is simply hot and soft, though it seems to contract a little, which you definitely like. Dirk’s fingers creep up your chest and hesitate over your collarbone, his head tosses left and right and judging by his expression it isn’t the most comfortable experience in the world, but he takes it like a real champ and for this you have to kiss him. He just looks so darn adorable in that moment. Your arms waver, you fan your shoulders and try not to collapse on top of him.

“Jake…” his eyes are glassy and his lips are red, and he looks like he’s just been crying but you don’t believe you’ve ever met anything so beautiful in all your life. Warm hands cradle your face and you nose the right one, breathing in the smell of his sweat and grinding your stomach against his, so that his boner rubs against your skin. You share a deep, languid kiss, and realise during that yeah, you and Dirk have always been close, but right now you are inside of him. Your body is breaching the lines of separation and personal space, and you are inside your best friend.

It’s such a weird thought that you almost stop being aroused to pull from him with a pop, and press your forehead against his.

“You’re very warm, Dirk.”

He exhales shakily and runs a hand over your neck and shoulder, down your back. The sensation prickles the nape of your neck.

“So are you.”

At this proximity, you hear even his breathy reply.

“Are you okay though?”

He nods.

“… Are you sure? I’m kind of…”

You trail off. You don’t want to say ‘impaling you on my meat’.

“yeah.” He kisses your cheek and you press your lips together in resolution. You’re going to do this. You are. You’re going. To do this. Dirk’s support… god, you’ve had it at every turn in your life and you have it now. And with it you know everything will turn out alright.

Closing your eyes, so you can focus on the intimacy, you drop your head to the curve of his shoulder and neck and try doing the stabby thing with your hips, like you’ve seen in movies and stuff. You think, ridiculously, of the bit in Avatar where they have that really emotional sex and suppress a surreal giggle, because honestly that’s how you feel about the situation right now. You don’t think that Dirk would appreciate it, though, and you hold your tongue, biting back a smile when he grunts stoutly and tightens his fingers on your arms. It feels weird. Not like… good in a physical sense but good in the fact that you can feel his breathing and his heartbeat and he smells good and warm and familiar.

“Okay?” you check. He seems irritated and you apologise (naughty naughty! Breaking the agreement), repeating the gesture.

It takes a few awkward stabs and a few moments of grunting and unsurity before you realise that you just aren’t getting into this, mostly because his ass is too tight and not quite as lubed as your palm usually is, and you are just about to stop and say something when Dirk’s grip on your arms slips, hands striking across your back and the softest of moans spilling from his lips. Your eyes open, meeting the glimmering half cast chips of topaz in his own, and you flush when you see that his face is reddened so that it looks almost like sunburn on the height of his cheeks.

“Stay hard bro.” he reprimands you weakly, rubbing your skin and closing his eyes. “I can feel that.”

“Is it… bad? Should I stop?”

“No, its fine. Just…” he pulls your face down and presses his nose against yours, you can feel his breath ghosting yours for only a moment, before he kisses you so gently you almost miss it. And then he kisses you again, so slow and deep and riveting that you forget that you are supposed to be fucking and not just making out. He takes advantage of this, rolling his hips in a slow motion so that you start to feel pleasure but it isn’t localised any more, you feel it all over your body. He makes a lovely, breathless noise and squeezes you tightly.


“Dirk…” you pull your mouth from his and plant it against his cheek, your hands gliding over his sides and the thighs wrapped around your waist. The angle between you shifts a little and his back curves. Every part of your body is tingling, and it’s hot hot hot between your legs. You start to feel the slide of your dick inside him, and how wonderful it is. How delicious.

“Oh Dirk…”

Slowly you begin to move with him, and everything about him fills you, striking thoughts of every single other thing else from your mind and sinking into your skin. The sound of him melting under you, the taste of him dissolving under your tongue. He’s shaking with each stroke, and it’s wonderful.

“Jake…” he touches your ass and squeezes. “Fuck …bro, that’s good.”

Even now, during sexual intercourse, he’s there for you. Supporting and re-assuring and just being generally amazing. You know that he would probably have said it’s good even if it was terrible, but it means a lot all the same and almost reduces you to a useless pile of cuddles and sap. God, when did that happen? You don’t usually make room in your life for silly things like that. Instead, you set your jaw and try and make it better, moving smoothly and with more direction now, actively seeking the good sensations and the closeness, the kisses…

“Oh fuck…” words start leaking from your mouth as things start to heat up, and the bed slats creak just enough to assure you that this is going to plan after all. “fuuuuuck.”

You wince when one of your hips seizes up, but try to man on through. Dirk doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s much too busy lying there taking it now, making odd, sexy noises and rolling his head loosely against the pillow. Wow. Wow that is incredible to watch. Does he really love it that much?

“God Jake, fucking hell.” Lifting his chest, Dirk tries to make you move faster. “Stop treating me like a woman, I’m not gunna break if you give it to me.”

“Huh?” you pant back at him, unable to quite process his words over the heartbeat in your ears.

“I said do it harder.” His patience, usually reasonable, seemed to be drawing short. “Fuck Jake. Fuck.”

You aren’t exactly sure how to do it harder, so you decide to do it faster instead, leaning back for more leverage and noticing that from this angle, with Dirks body lain before you helplessly, he looks much smaller than you ever remembered, and much more handsome. You hold his thighs over yours and note in the back of your mind his dick, hard and bouncing against his stomach as you drive into him. His fingers whiteknuckle on the sheets, where he has let them drop, his mouth parts into a agonised ‘oh’ and you think that definitely, positively, you are doing this right. What a delirious victory. A clueless virgin, and here you are making Dirk feel incredible. Your stomach swoops at the thought, and you move faster still. It’s getting really fucking tense now, that coil of pleasure in your gut, but you don’t feel like you would be doing right by Dirk if you don’t let him cum first. Besides, some dark part of you wants to watch it. His body curling, his cum arcing onto his stomach. It would be hot. Really hot. You don’t even know where this thought came from but you know it’s true.

Common sense drives you to wrap your hand around his erection and rub it in time with your movements, and common sense was right to do so. Almost as soon as you did he groans, from somewhere deep inside his chest, and lifts his chin proudly. His eyes open, and half stricken with bliss he looks at you, an expression so heavy with need and desire and love, overwheliming love, that you shake, almost orgasming and ruining it all.

Jake.” He barely breathes your name, and you think that sex sure does involve a lot of name saying or maybe that’s just you guys, you can’t be sure because sex is supposedly a very personal and individual thing. You nod weakly, pulling your lower lip beneath your teeth so he knows he heard you, and hump up once more. His body breaks into minor tremors, and his eyes flutter but do not close, when he comes, noiseless and strong, his semen trickling from his dick rather than spurting in a rope across your bodies. It trickles over your hand and you rub it in, almost devoid of breath. He’s done it, he’s reached climax and lost his virginity to you.

You made him have an orgasm.

This thought terrifies and excites you, and with it you close your eyes and give in to how warm he is, how the body friction between you fizzles in every nerve ending in your body. It takes maybe twenty seconds for you to come as well, after a stout, swift buildup, and unlike Dirk you can’t contain the moan that tears from your chest.

In the aftermath, your trembling arms give way beneath you, and you collapse on top of him awkwardly, because your hips come together at a strange angle and you have to pull out of him, the comdom slipping off and sticking messily to the sheets, before you can really lie down at his side and catch your breath. He’s panting lightly, and his skin is sticky with sweat. You turn to him, unsure what to say from here, and he too turns his head and looks at you for a moment in peace.

“wow.” He manages after a hesitation. “Wow. That wasn’t too bad at all.”

“... Yeah.” You concur, looking at the ceiling and still feeling the fluttery after orgasm glow in your pelvic region. “That was… quite good, I think.”

He chuckles nervously and lifts a hand to rub his brow.

And it was. Quite good you mean. It wasn’t earth shattering, or life changing… the end product wasn’t all that different from touching yourself when you’re alone, and yet having completed the act, you can’t help but feel a glowing pride deep inside you. A secret accomplishment, something you have proved to yourself, and no-one else. It’s a very empowering feeling. You wonder if he feels it too.

“Feel any different?” you inquire, and he pauses for a moment, slowing his breath.

“Not… really.”

“No… nor do I.”

You both lull into silence and he sucks his teeth in thought.

“I mean,” you continue. “It felt good, but I don’t feel any more… mature than I thought I would.” This confession is embarrassing and somewhat perplexing because it renders all your previous fears and unsurities ridiculous, but face it nothing Dirk will ever know about you could classify as embarrassing ever again. You are just relieved, and soon you suspect you will be giddy and delirious. Once your mind has registered what has just happened, that is.


Wow. You just had Sex.

“Neither.” Dirk rolls himself up and props himself beside you, surprisingly composed for a man who four or five minutes ago had been getting fucked in the ass. “I mean… I didn’t really expect to?”

You pull a face and wipe your cummy hand on his stomach. He doesn’t seem to mind, softening dick rubbing against your hip in fading interest.

“Then what did you want to do it for?” you ask him, not really caring about the answer but curious all the same. He shrugs, and rests his head against your shoulder.

“Because I wanted to be close with you.” He tells you, completely matter of fact. “Is that cool?”

You stare at the ceiling and feel your stomach flip unfamiliarly.

“Yeah…” you reply, still hunting for the new and improved adult Jake. “Yeah I suppose.”

And with that he moves up and plants another final kiss on your left cheek.