Fanwork 04
Aug. 8th, 2010 03:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sharknastyTitle: Creamsicles
Pairing: Dave/Davesprite
Rating: M
Warning: Selfcest, Sort-of ghost sex, weird ghost-tailjobs
Summary: Dave and his sprite go at it in the Land of Heat and Clockwork. And by go at it, I mean handjobs but not really.
A/N: Homestuck Kink Meme request.
‘This is weird.’
He’s gone though a clusterfuck of crazy shit over the entire course of this game. Things like traveling to other dimensions had become the norm for him and when that got boring, there was the never-ending stream of future versions of himself traveling back in time to tell him not to do shit, and future-future versions of himself coming back to tell the future versions to quit fucking around with time. After all that, Dave figures that it’s done, that he is finished as far as strange things go. So when his sprite kisses him, full-on kisses him on the mouth, it doesn’t just take the fucking cake as far as strange goes. What it does do is eat it’s slice of fucked-up cake, eat the rest of it, and ruin the birthday party of whatever little shit decided to have a party themed on how screwed up Dave Strider’s life could get. Figuratively of course.
A shove is a little to forceful for his sort-of-fine self, but the hilt of his sprite’s sword is digging hard enough into his stomach to bruise. So Dave grabs where Davesprite’s shoulders should be, and thank god they are, and pushes him back, holding him there at arm’s length. “What the fuck was that?” Dave raises an eyebrow and Davesprite mirrors the action, raising one comically in return. “It’s an amazing thing called a kiss. I’m going to show you again and you need to pay the fuck attention,” And as he leans in for another one, Dave pulls himself back from the sprite and presses him to one of the larger, more stationary gears. “I know what a kiss is. Why?”
“We’re going balls deep into some kind of epic clusterfuck that might get us all killed. I’m pretty sure anyone in your situation would take the chance to fuck themselves if they could.”
With that, Davesprite uses his wings to bat Dave’s arms away and mashes their lips together again, careful to tilt his body so the hilt doesn’t press against Dave too hard this time. It’s strange at first, because they’re so alike that their lips move against each other clumsily and their glasses make clacking noises as they knock against each other. Dave tilts his head to the side, pushing harder into the kiss once he knows their mouths fit together better than before. They alternate between hard and soft pressure until deep, open-mouthed kisses turn into small, light pecks, and when they pull away, it’s only for a quick breath on Dave’s part before they’re pressed together at the mouth again. Davesprite doesn’t wait for permission to slip in a little tongue, forcing it into Dave’s mouth and teasing Dave’s tongue with his. It’s disappointingly familiar territory, but The Knight of Time doesn’t protest and thinks to himself that if awesome had another definition, it would be the act of making out with yourself.
They have to change their positions to get anything done right, Davesprite sliding around him to hover behind him and press his chest against Dave’s back. Strangely enough, there isn’t the jabbing pain of a hilt digging into his back, and when he looks down he sees it. Translucent but slightly visible, part of the blade and the entire hilt is sticking out through his stomach. The area around it feels cold, but no different than normal otherwise, and after he is done gasping and having a small freak out in his mind, Dave settles down without a fuss. “Are you done flipping the fuck out?” He hears Davesprite ask, humor in his voice, and promptly flicks him off.
“You could have warned me.”
“Yeah I could have.”
It’s a quick end to a topic of conversation that neither of them care to continue. There are much better things to do.
Even with the cool feeling of the phantom sword in his stomach, Dave is still feeling the heat of LoHaC. Sweat causes the fabric of his suit to stick uncomfortably to his back when they press against each other. He can feel droplets of the liquid gathering, beading, and sliding down his face and neck. Davesprite nudges Dave’s head aside and licks a trail up his neck, getting a taste of the substance there. “I didn’t even taste that.” He murmurs while fumbling with the zipper on Dave’s pants, brushing his wings against repetitively against the suit’s fabric. He manages to stutter out a retort- “Th-that’s fucking disgusting, man.” -and cants his hips towards the feather light touches. By the time he’s gotten to painfully hard status, Dave can feel the sprite smirk with head on his shoulder and cheek pressed to cheek. Davesprite folds his wings back slightly and slinks his prehensile ghost-like tail down to the zipper, deciding he is done toying around with himself for now. He frowns against the side of Dave’s face as he tries to pull it down, fails repeatedly, and realizes the downsides to not having arms.
Dave helps him out, unzipping and unbuttoning himself as he ignores his sprite’s protests that he can do it himself. Leaning against his partner, Dave shivers and shimmies his pants down to mid-thigh with some difficulty of getting them down sweat slicked legs. He lets out a hiss of air when Davesprite returns to brushing his wings up against the tent in his boxers. The minute he roughly shoves his boxers down and exposes himself to the heated air around him, Dave feels the ghostly tendril of his sprite sling itself halfway around his waist and wrap around his prick, cool enough to contrast with the heat of their surroundings. Dave bucks back into Davesprite, feeling around for something he can grasp and eventually settling for fisting his hand in orange-white locks of hair.
His hand doesn’t pass though immediately, which surprises him enough for him to lose focus for a moment as he passes his hand though the sword and clenches and unclenches that hand threaded into Davesprite’s hair. The moment of mild amazement is ruined when the sprite tightens his grip on Dave’s member and he lets out a small choked noise and squirms against him, biting his lower lip to muffle moans that would no doubt echo through the clockwork world and draw attention. Davesprite’s wings fold around the both of them in an attempt to hold Dave still while he presses back into the sprite and forward into the tendril. Sometime during this, he notices how uncomfortable the heat is getting and tugs hard at his bowtie, unraveling it so he can pop some buttons open. Davesprite brushes his ghost tail against the tip of Dave’s prick; he smears pre-cum over his head and shaft and it’s enough to send Dave into shudders that cause him to lose focus on unbuttoning his shirt after the first two buttons. He threads his free hand through his sprite’s feathers, curling and uncurling his fingers and ignoring the complaint of how he’s kinking them in favor of choking back noises.
If getting kisses from himself is awesome, he thinks the only word for what is happening now is probably fan-fucking-tastic. Davesprite continues to pump his member, slicking it with fluids as he flicks at the slit with the tip of his tail. Dave keeps spasming against him, still bunching up the feathers in one of the wings and fisting hair with his other hand. Doing this in the Land of Heat and Clockwork is affording them no favors and by the time Dave is close to orgasm, he’s already sweating from the temperature and the exertion. His suit sticks to his skin and Davesprite uses his wings to push his shirt up and runs the tips of his feathers across skin soaked in perspiration. It makes Dave shudders slightly but he’s so far gone that he doesn’t even flinch when Davesprite nudges the collar of his shirt down a little more and traces small bites down to Dave’s collarbone before soothing the pain with a long swipe of his tongue. He doesn’t even need to warn him when he’s about to let go because Davesprite can tell by the clench of his hands, the arc of his back, and the way Dave opens his mouth and lets out small gasps when his thighs start to tremble and his knees start to buckle.
He comes in thick, hot spurts, the vicious fluid landing on both his suit and the heated metal beneath them. He muffles a cry by turning his head to the side and clumsily pressing his lips to Davesprite’s. Their teeth knock together and so do their glasses, but smothering out the half-whimper half-squeak is well worth the annoyance and second-hand embarrassment. Davesprite tightens his grip around Dave, holding him up with his wings and the part of tendril half wrapped around his waist, pumping his dick until the shuddering has stopped and Dave is just leaning against him, trying to catch his breath. He slowly moves himself to the side until the sword is out of Dave’s abdomen. It leaves behind nothing but sticky orange goo that Dave touches a few fingers to experimentally. Davesprite bends down to inspect the orange slime as well as the small dots of semen left on the fabric before looking up at Dave.
“You’re going to need to alchemize a new suit.”
Dave looks at him with mild annoyance that fizzles out into exasperation with the state of his suit. He slaps not one hand, but two, across his face, but when he sighs it comes out more contented than intended and it's hard not to notice how smirky his sprite has gotten because of it.
Pairing: Dave/Davesprite
Rating: M
Warning: Selfcest, Sort-of ghost sex, weird ghost-tailjobs
Summary: Dave and his sprite go at it in the Land of Heat and Clockwork. And by go at it, I mean handjobs but not really.
A/N: Homestuck Kink Meme request.
‘This is weird.’
He’s gone though a clusterfuck of crazy shit over the entire course of this game. Things like traveling to other dimensions had become the norm for him and when that got boring, there was the never-ending stream of future versions of himself traveling back in time to tell him not to do shit, and future-future versions of himself coming back to tell the future versions to quit fucking around with time. After all that, Dave figures that it’s done, that he is finished as far as strange things go. So when his sprite kisses him, full-on kisses him on the mouth, it doesn’t just take the fucking cake as far as strange goes. What it does do is eat it’s slice of fucked-up cake, eat the rest of it, and ruin the birthday party of whatever little shit decided to have a party themed on how screwed up Dave Strider’s life could get. Figuratively of course.
A shove is a little to forceful for his sort-of-fine self, but the hilt of his sprite’s sword is digging hard enough into his stomach to bruise. So Dave grabs where Davesprite’s shoulders should be, and thank god they are, and pushes him back, holding him there at arm’s length. “What the fuck was that?” Dave raises an eyebrow and Davesprite mirrors the action, raising one comically in return. “It’s an amazing thing called a kiss. I’m going to show you again and you need to pay the fuck attention,” And as he leans in for another one, Dave pulls himself back from the sprite and presses him to one of the larger, more stationary gears. “I know what a kiss is. Why?”
“We’re going balls deep into some kind of epic clusterfuck that might get us all killed. I’m pretty sure anyone in your situation would take the chance to fuck themselves if they could.”
With that, Davesprite uses his wings to bat Dave’s arms away and mashes their lips together again, careful to tilt his body so the hilt doesn’t press against Dave too hard this time. It’s strange at first, because they’re so alike that their lips move against each other clumsily and their glasses make clacking noises as they knock against each other. Dave tilts his head to the side, pushing harder into the kiss once he knows their mouths fit together better than before. They alternate between hard and soft pressure until deep, open-mouthed kisses turn into small, light pecks, and when they pull away, it’s only for a quick breath on Dave’s part before they’re pressed together at the mouth again. Davesprite doesn’t wait for permission to slip in a little tongue, forcing it into Dave’s mouth and teasing Dave’s tongue with his. It’s disappointingly familiar territory, but The Knight of Time doesn’t protest and thinks to himself that if awesome had another definition, it would be the act of making out with yourself.
They have to change their positions to get anything done right, Davesprite sliding around him to hover behind him and press his chest against Dave’s back. Strangely enough, there isn’t the jabbing pain of a hilt digging into his back, and when he looks down he sees it. Translucent but slightly visible, part of the blade and the entire hilt is sticking out through his stomach. The area around it feels cold, but no different than normal otherwise, and after he is done gasping and having a small freak out in his mind, Dave settles down without a fuss. “Are you done flipping the fuck out?” He hears Davesprite ask, humor in his voice, and promptly flicks him off.
“You could have warned me.”
“Yeah I could have.”
It’s a quick end to a topic of conversation that neither of them care to continue. There are much better things to do.
Even with the cool feeling of the phantom sword in his stomach, Dave is still feeling the heat of LoHaC. Sweat causes the fabric of his suit to stick uncomfortably to his back when they press against each other. He can feel droplets of the liquid gathering, beading, and sliding down his face and neck. Davesprite nudges Dave’s head aside and licks a trail up his neck, getting a taste of the substance there. “I didn’t even taste that.” He murmurs while fumbling with the zipper on Dave’s pants, brushing his wings against repetitively against the suit’s fabric. He manages to stutter out a retort- “Th-that’s fucking disgusting, man.” -and cants his hips towards the feather light touches. By the time he’s gotten to painfully hard status, Dave can feel the sprite smirk with head on his shoulder and cheek pressed to cheek. Davesprite folds his wings back slightly and slinks his prehensile ghost-like tail down to the zipper, deciding he is done toying around with himself for now. He frowns against the side of Dave’s face as he tries to pull it down, fails repeatedly, and realizes the downsides to not having arms.
Dave helps him out, unzipping and unbuttoning himself as he ignores his sprite’s protests that he can do it himself. Leaning against his partner, Dave shivers and shimmies his pants down to mid-thigh with some difficulty of getting them down sweat slicked legs. He lets out a hiss of air when Davesprite returns to brushing his wings up against the tent in his boxers. The minute he roughly shoves his boxers down and exposes himself to the heated air around him, Dave feels the ghostly tendril of his sprite sling itself halfway around his waist and wrap around his prick, cool enough to contrast with the heat of their surroundings. Dave bucks back into Davesprite, feeling around for something he can grasp and eventually settling for fisting his hand in orange-white locks of hair.
His hand doesn’t pass though immediately, which surprises him enough for him to lose focus for a moment as he passes his hand though the sword and clenches and unclenches that hand threaded into Davesprite’s hair. The moment of mild amazement is ruined when the sprite tightens his grip on Dave’s member and he lets out a small choked noise and squirms against him, biting his lower lip to muffle moans that would no doubt echo through the clockwork world and draw attention. Davesprite’s wings fold around the both of them in an attempt to hold Dave still while he presses back into the sprite and forward into the tendril. Sometime during this, he notices how uncomfortable the heat is getting and tugs hard at his bowtie, unraveling it so he can pop some buttons open. Davesprite brushes his ghost tail against the tip of Dave’s prick; he smears pre-cum over his head and shaft and it’s enough to send Dave into shudders that cause him to lose focus on unbuttoning his shirt after the first two buttons. He threads his free hand through his sprite’s feathers, curling and uncurling his fingers and ignoring the complaint of how he’s kinking them in favor of choking back noises.
If getting kisses from himself is awesome, he thinks the only word for what is happening now is probably fan-fucking-tastic. Davesprite continues to pump his member, slicking it with fluids as he flicks at the slit with the tip of his tail. Dave keeps spasming against him, still bunching up the feathers in one of the wings and fisting hair with his other hand. Doing this in the Land of Heat and Clockwork is affording them no favors and by the time Dave is close to orgasm, he’s already sweating from the temperature and the exertion. His suit sticks to his skin and Davesprite uses his wings to push his shirt up and runs the tips of his feathers across skin soaked in perspiration. It makes Dave shudders slightly but he’s so far gone that he doesn’t even flinch when Davesprite nudges the collar of his shirt down a little more and traces small bites down to Dave’s collarbone before soothing the pain with a long swipe of his tongue. He doesn’t even need to warn him when he’s about to let go because Davesprite can tell by the clench of his hands, the arc of his back, and the way Dave opens his mouth and lets out small gasps when his thighs start to tremble and his knees start to buckle.
He comes in thick, hot spurts, the vicious fluid landing on both his suit and the heated metal beneath them. He muffles a cry by turning his head to the side and clumsily pressing his lips to Davesprite’s. Their teeth knock together and so do their glasses, but smothering out the half-whimper half-squeak is well worth the annoyance and second-hand embarrassment. Davesprite tightens his grip around Dave, holding him up with his wings and the part of tendril half wrapped around his waist, pumping his dick until the shuddering has stopped and Dave is just leaning against him, trying to catch his breath. He slowly moves himself to the side until the sword is out of Dave’s abdomen. It leaves behind nothing but sticky orange goo that Dave touches a few fingers to experimentally. Davesprite bends down to inspect the orange slime as well as the small dots of semen left on the fabric before looking up at Dave.
“You’re going to need to alchemize a new suit.”
Dave looks at him with mild annoyance that fizzles out into exasperation with the state of his suit. He slaps not one hand, but two, across his face, but when he sighs it comes out more contented than intended and it's hard not to notice how smirky his sprite has gotten because of it.
