Chapter Text
You are so excited that you can’t keep still, and you’re bouncing around the elevator up to Dirk’s apartment. It’s probably dangerous to do that since it only just got fixed, but you’re excited dammit!
You’ve been dating your doofus of a boyfriend for almost six months officially, not counting your shenanigans beforehand. Not that you didn’t appreciate those shenanigans! Or any other shenanigans since.
A grin unfurls over your face as you think about that.
The elevator dings, and you snap out of it. Time to focus!
You walk to Dirk and Dave’s apartment and knock, beaming when Dirk opens the door.
“Hi, Dirk!”
“John,” he greets, only a slight inflection in his voice giving away that he’s happy to see you.
You barge right on in, needing no more invitation than that. He makes that cute, annoyed little noise under his breath at you before closing the door.
“What’s with the sudden demand to come over? I know I’m irresistible, but damn dude, don’t be so needy,” Dirk says, and you laugh.
“Oh, hush, like you’re doing anything important at 2PM on a Tuesday.”
“I work,” he says, hint of condescension in his voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“It got cancelled,” you lie easily. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s spring of your final semester and you’re acing all your classes. You can miss one day! You also have your plans sorted out for after you graduate. Dirk casually brought up that Roxy works in a research based company and could always use more hands. He mentioned, with forced indifference, that you could always try that before med school. You applied and got accepted last week, but you’re going to wait to tell him. Can’t let him spend the day bragging about being right! Even if it was a massive relief to get the job.
One of Dirk’s slim, pointed eyebrows is steadily rising over the rim of his shades, and you know you’ve been caught.
“Okaaaaay,” you relent. “I’m ditching. But this is important! It’s our six month anniversary!”
“Oh. Uh, I didn’t think we were—” Dirk says, his voice mumbled and rushed as the gears in his head start whirling.
You step forward and catch his head between your hands, stopping that nonsense dead in its tracks. “We weren’t! I just decided to!”
“Oh,” he says again, sounding a bit relieved.
You love that you can tell that now. You adore how easy it is to read him, despite the unflappable exterior he puts up. He’s gotten so much better since you first met him, though he still has those moments where he looks lost out to sea and you worry, worry that you can’t pull him back.
“I think we should celebrate,” you add, knowing that your eagerness is already transparent on your face.
“Celebrate,” he echoes, slowly catching on.
“Yes,” you nod seriously. “We have all afternoon! What do you say?”
“You’re acting like I have a choice here,” he says dryly.
“’Atta boy!”
He makes another huffy noise under his breath, but doesn’t offer a rebuttal. You can tell he’s on board though. His shoulders don’t have tension in them, and the warm breath against your palms is even and steady. Gosh, he’s so good.
You drop your hands and he looks a little disappointed by that. It makes you giggle, and he crosses his arms tightly in front of himself.
“Don’t do that,” you tease, pulling him close and giving him your biggest smile.
“Don’t do what,” Dirk deadpans back at you, but drops his arms.
You feel his hands tentatively rest on your hips, and it makes you so happy because it took forever for him to take any sort of initiative like that. You’re so proud of him, he’s so lovely, and you really want to drill it into him until he understands it.
You press your hands flat on his back, running them slowly up and down his shirt, worn and soft with age. He’s so lean, all sharp angles and tight musculature. It’s mesmerizing. Your fingers find the definition of his back and trace it, slipping down his spine, sweeping through his lower back, and gliding back up.
Dirk is quiet in your arms, gently squeezing your hips like he forgot his hands were there. He probably did.
It’s so easy to unravel him now, pluck a few strings and he’s yours to play with.
It’s your favorite thing, despite how nervous he gets about you getting bored of him.
So you just have to remind him!
“Chickpea,” you call, and you can see him focusing on your face through his shades. “Want to head to your room?”
You’ve been experimenting with offering him choices, just to get him to tell you what he wants for once. It’s been one hell of a challenge.
Like now, Dirk just shrugs and mumbles something about whatever you want to do.
“I want to do you,” you say cheekily, enjoying the color that rises on his cheeks.
“Classy,” Dirk says, like he doesn’t thrive off being wanted.
“I could always just have you here,” you add brightly. “You wouldn’t mind being bent over a table, would you?”
You watch the color in his face darken. You know he wouldn’t mind, probably would prefer it, but you also know he’s exceptionally neurotic about doing anything in the common area of his apartment.
“Bedroom,” he finally relents.
“Good,” you say, pleased, and drop your hands to his ass for an encouraging squeeze.
You follow Dirk to his bedroom, watching him studiously not look at you like you’re his date on prom night and not the person he’s been screwing for over a year. He’s so silly, you love it.
You start slow, kicking off your shoes and flopping back onto his bed like you own it. He’s giving you a funny look, and you grin and make grabby hands at him.
“You’re such a child,” he grumbles, but takes off his shades and sets them down before climbing after you.
You wait until he’s hovering over you before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him down onto you. He huffs in surprise, or annoyance, and you giggle and kiss him.
Dirk relaxes into you, propping himself up with one forearm by your head as he kisses you easily. He’s so sweet and gentle, and you don’t even think he’s aware of it.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently at the base of his scalp to coax those delicious little noises from his mouth.
Sure enough, Dirk gasps into your kiss, and it sends heat radiating through your body.
You do it again, alternating between playful little tugs and rubbing his head with your fingertips.
Dirk presses down into you, your kiss growing a bit more heated. He shifts so he’s seated on your thighs, legs folded on either side of you and mouth insistent against yours.
You can feel him curling and uncurling his hands into the sheets by you, wanting to touch but not knowing if he can. You nip his lower lip and suck it into your mouth briefly, then releasing it and smirking up at him.
“Your glasses are still on,” he says, voice a little ragged.
“Fix it.”
He blinks, and then carefully takes them off. He folds them and sets them down next to his, and the sight of both your glasses resting together on the bedside table makes you smile.
“Good job, pumpkin. Now come back here.”
Dirk returns instantly, amber eyes flickering from your eyes to your mouth and back.
He’s so lovely when he doesn’t know how to ask for things. It’s different from his forced indifference, feigning disinterest only to be dragged kicking and screaming to something he desperately wants but doesn’t know how to ask for.
Now he’s soft, compliant, not filling the space between you with endless bullshit and denial.
You grin up at him and run your hands up his thighs, thumbs digging in to his hips. You have this delightful, tingly feeling in your chest and you want to share it with him. You roll him over easily, switching positions so you’re now sitting on his hips. You pull your shirt off, making sure to stretch your arms a little higher than necessary. It gets tossed to the floor and you find Dirk’s eyes fixated on your chest.
Thin, cool hands come up and run over your bare skin. He touches you like he’s never seen you before, biting his lower lip absently as his fingers rub over your nipples.
“Did I say you could do that?” you reprimand gently, unable to keep the brightness out of your voice.
Dirk freezes, his eyes hazing over slightly. He drops his hands and shakes his head. “No.”
“What do you need to do if you want something?”
He looks away, worrying his lip between his teeth and mumbling something.
“What was that?”
“I have to ask.”
“That’s right, pumpkin. Try it.”
Maybe you’re pushing a little too early, but Dirk takes a breath and closes his eyes.
“Can I touch you?”
God dammit you’re so proud of him.
“Yes,” you breathe, elated. “Yes you can, you’ve earned it.”
“Haven’t done anything,” Dirk mumbles, but resumes running his hands over you. There’s more confidence in his touch now that he has express permission, and you hum as he drags his nails down your back.
You kiss him, pushing your tongue in his mouth and rocking your hips down. You feel him grip your shoulders and you grind down more insistently.
Dirk shifts under you and sighs into your mouth, angling his hips up to meet yours.
You part from him to remove his shirt, then move your attention to his neck. Now that he doesn’t have to wear scarves all the time, you’re far more liberal with your marking.
“Oh, fuck,” Dirk groans as you suck a bruise into his neck, sliding his arms around your shoulders to hold you there.
You lavish attention on his neck and shoulders, peppering him with kisses and nips until you’re certain he’ll be covered in pretty little marks by tomorrow. He’s squirming under you, fingers tangled in your hair and breathing ragged.
You dig your nails into his hips and press your hardening cock against his, and he shudders under you.
“Dirk,” you murmur playfully into his neck, kissing just below his jaw.
“Mnnh?”
“Clementine,” you purr, and his breathing catches in his throat. “Go get your bag.”
Dirk goes rigid for a second, and then he’s scrambling out from under you and bending over the side of the bed, fishing around for his stash.
You admire the view, and then decide you can do a bit more than just admire. So you shuffle over and put your hands on his ass, squeezing and rubbing it.
“Dammit, John,” Dirk complains halfheartedly, though he doesn’t make an effort to move away. “You’re distracting me.”
“Oh don’t mind me, chickpea,” you say, and then smack his ass.
“Fuck!” Dirk jerks forwards and almost slides off the bed. His hand digs into the covers and the other one comes back up to find purchase.
“Bag, Dirk,” you remind him, then spank him again.
He whines, repositions himself a bit so he won’t fall of the bed, and then leans back down to get it.
You slip your hands around to the front of his jeans and unbutton them, smirking to yourself. You see him finally locate the bag, but you can’t have it be that easy.
You pull Dirk’s jeans down to just under his ass and smack him again, hard, and he gasps.
“You look so nice like this,” you comment, running your hand over the place you just struck.
He flinches, like the compliment hurt worse than the strike, though he still doesn’t move away. He’s got one hand on the strap of his bag and seems to have forgotten that he’s supposed to be bringing it to you.
You hit him again, sharp little strikes over his boxers in rapid succession.
“God, fuck, mnghh,” Dirk moans, his face pressed into the covers and shoulders pulled in. “John, come on…”
“Come on, what? You’re supposed to be doing something,” you respond.
Dirk reacts to that, and he pulls the bag up and deposits it next to him then fidgets as you start to look through it.
“Pants off,” you say as you rummage, and he does as you ask. Man, you love this bag. You remember when he told you about it, how it had been like going through a treasure chest. Some of this stuff you have, or variations of it, but other things were new. He’d been steadily adding to it as well, and you smirk when you see a new glass wand.
You bypass it for now, selecting instead a small vibrator and a cock ring.
You turn to see Dirk watching you avidly, dressed only in his boxers and eyeing the toys you picked.
“See something you like?”
“Maybe,” he says, a bit of his old defiance creeping back in.
You grin and set the bag back on the floor, crawling up to him. He reaches for you first, drawing you up into his lap and kissing you. You let the toys drop beside you two and kiss him hungrily.
Hands move with increasing urgency, and he’s making the sweetest little noises as your hand moves between the two of you and brushes against his cock.
“You’re so hard for me,” you mumble against his lips, and he shudders.
Dirk’s hands don’t seem to know where to land, so you catch them and press them behind his back, locking his wrists together with one hand. Your other hand returns between his legs and Dirk’s head falls back, a groan tearing out of his throat.
“That’s it, sweetpea,” you encourage, and he moans for you weakly.
“You’re so easy to unravel,” you continue, forcing him on his back and making sure his hands stay pinned under his own weight. “You’re so good, so well behaved. I’m going to give you a choice now, alright?”
Dirk stares at you, and you smile and tap the fingers of your unoccupied hand against his lips. He parts them for you, and you slip them into his mouth.
“Option one,” you say as you slide them against the sticky, wet heat of his mouth, “is I fuck you now with the vibrator, then let you finish before fucking you with my cock.”
Dirk jerks a little, a choked noise tumbling from his lips.
You push your fingers in deeper and he runs his tongue along them like they’re your dick. It’s making it very hard to think, and you’re getting uncomfortably hard.
“Option two,” you practically growl, “is I fuck you with the vibrator, put that ring around your pretty dick, and then ride you until I’m satisfied.”
The noise Dirk makes at that is so delicious that it makes your nerves sing.
“Oh, you like option two?”
Dirk’s eyes are wide and pleading, and you know that your hand on his cock isn’t helping him think either. When he tries to answer, you shove your fingers deeper and he chokes, arching up into your hand and tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. You relent, pulling your fingers back, and he chases them with his tongue.
“God, look at you, you’re so pretty like this,” you croon, squeezing his dick through his boxers.
You take your hands away and Dirk starts mumbling, asking for you to come back, please please, he wants you back.
“I’m right here, honeydew,” you sooth, petting his hair with your clean hand. “Just a second.”
You pull off the rest of your clothes and Dirk’s boxers, then resettle beside him. You pick up a bottle of lube on the bedside table and wiggle it at him.
Dirk takes the hint and reaches for it, coating his fingers and then slipping his hand between his legs. His eyes flutter closed and he breathes out in relief as he works a finger inside of himself.
You lay out next to him, petting his hair and pressing your lips along his jaw. “That’s it, clementine, you’re so good, how does it feel?”
“Not as good as you do,” Dirk says breathlessly, and you groan into his neck.
“You’re so perfect like this, you look amazing,” you’re practically babbling, watching in rapture as Dirk’s back bends off the bed and he moans loudly at your words.
“John” he pants, opening his eyes and finding yours. “Can I add another—?”
“Yes,” you hiss, and devour the sight of his mouth falling open as he pushes another finger in.
The muscles of his arm jump and tense as he fucks himself on his fingers. Short, high pitched noises issuing from him heedlessly.
You stop him when it gets to be too much for you, and he’s shaking as he pulls his fingers out and you slick up the vibrator.
It slides in easily, and Dirk’s eyes roll back in his head when you turn it on.
“Oh! Oh, fuck, John,” Dirk cries out, and you kiss him hard as you slip the cock ring on him. He startles when he hears the lube bottle opening again, and turns to see you coat your own fingers in it.
“Watch,” you command firmly, and Dirk whines.
You position yourself so he can see, and you can watch him shake and writhe from the vibrator. You let your legs fall open and circle a finger around your entrance, keeping eye contact as you slide it in.
“Mnh,” you gasp at the slight burn. It’s been a while since you last did this, but god Dirk’s watching you with awe on his face and it’s better than anything. You slowly work yourself open, moans and senseless words falling from your mouth as the burn becomes white hot pleasure.
“John,” Dirk begs, voice shaking. “John, fuck, you’re…”
“Dirk,” you call, pressing your fingers against your prostate.
“John, please,” Dirk tries again, face flushed and pupils blown wide.
That snaps your composure, and you take your fingers away and climb on top of him.
Dirk pulls his arms free and hovers them over your hips as you line up with his cock. “Can I touch you? Please let me touch you. Fuck, John, please.”
“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, yes, fuck, Dirk—!”
His hands grip your hips as you lower onto him, and you throw your head back and moan mindlessly. It feels incredible, everything is hot and bright and perfect as you settle down on him.
Dirk looks ravaged, pleas flowing endlessly that it’s too much, not enough, please let me fuck you god dammit please it feels so good.
“You’ll be good and let me use you how I want,” you gasp, and Dirk cries out as you start to move. You let him move under you, pushing up as you press down, and you’re both calling for each other despite being inches away.
Dirk’s hands on your hips guide you, jerky and demanding, and you tell him how amazing he feels in you until he begs you to stop.
“So good,” you choke out, and Dirk snaps his hips up into you helplessly. “That’s it, oh god, fuck, good, so good, you feel amazing, Clementine—!”
One of Dirk’s hands flies to your cock, stroking it in time with your movements. It feels like fire, and you rake your nails down his chest and watch him struggle not to fall apart. You’re getting so close, and seeing Dirk begging for relief is too overwhelming in the best way.
You come suddenly and hard, something snapping in you and you cry out, clenching down and shuddering through your climax. It feels electric, and you’re gasping for air as you gently lift yourself off Dirk.
“John,” Dirk pleads, voice cracking. “John please, fuck, it’s too much, please let me finish, god, fuck, John!”
You moan as you work the cock ring off him, dropping your hand between his legs to turn up the vibrator.
Dirk’s head snaps back and he screams, body seizing up as he finishes, hands clawing at the covers. You kiss him, over and over as he sobs and writhes, turning down the vibrator and carefully working it out of him.
He lays there, wrung out and gasping in some faraway place as you start cleaning up. The toys get a quick rinse, you get a washcloth and clean the two of you up, and then wobble back to bed because your legs feel pretty boneless right now.
Dirk is still drifting as you settle in, pulling him into your arms and burying your face in his hair. You feel surrounded by a feeling that’s too tender to name, and you’re hesitant to say it. But you know Dirk feels it, you can hear it in the way he says your name, or how he clings to you afterwards.
Sure enough, arms lazily snake their way around you and legs tangle with yours as Dirk tucks himself into you. He’s relaxed, buzzing on endorphins, and you’d swear he’d be purring if he could.
You rub his back and whisper to him, telling him how perfect he was, how good he is, how much you enjoyed that.
It’s one of the few times he’s doesn’t act like your words burn him.
Instead Dirk smiles, lethargic and slow, and tries to press closer.
“Happy six months,” he mumbles, words almost slurring, and you hug him tightly.
“Happy six months, you lovely mess.”
He laughs silently, too tired to make any real noise, and you grin into his hair.