swampofsadness | And so I am lonely

And so I am lonely

There can be a quiet period after sex. A relaxed kind of lull that's easy to exist in, even for someone like Dirk. Relatively, anyway. His mind doesn't stop--the layers and contrivances that turn inside him like an endless mechanica are an endless process, and so even this peace is tentative. Fragile, and short lived. But it's still a state of relief. His body feels better. His brain is calmer. When he actually cums, that is. Which, Ranboo has been incredibly cooperative about--sometimes the guy takes some talking through some concepts, but he's eager and earnest and he's bigger than Dirk in a few key dimensions that make his difficult traits tolerable, if not outright endearing.

He has, however, noticed that he's always the one making demands, prompting and cueing Ranboo through certain motions. Which is partly what Dirk means when he regards Ranboo as difficult and/or endearing. It's nice, in a way, to have a willing partner who does what he wants. It's also... odd.

They're curled up against each other; Dirk has taken the liberty of resting his head against Ranboo's bountiful pectorals, feeling the warmth of the man's skin against his ear and face, the rhythm of his breathing and even his pulse just underneath Dirk's own. He's slightly sticky with sweat (it's mostly sweat, anyway) but that's kind of a plus, to Dirk. It's... real. Comfortingly so. He can better feel himself against Ranboo this way.

"Fuck, man. Every time we do this, it's like.... I want to say it gets even better, but I actually don't know. Not--because of you. Or kind of because of you. Are you into this? What are you into? You never say anything about that--you never ask me to do anything specific. Which doesn't seem to be stopping you from putting your hot load in me every time. Sometimes repeatedly. Which feels fantastic, for the record."

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"Jesus christ."

Dirk really has a way of interrupting what had been a nice, quiet moment between them previously. This is still something strange to Ranboo; being able to enjoy his body, do what he wants to with it, acting without the constant blanket of control threatening to fall back over him and sweep him off to do whatever it is Showfall wants instead. The very feeling of laying there with Dirk pressed against them... it's the most human they've ever remembered feeling. Almost normal, almost whole. Still, despite the red flush that Dirk's words draw to his face, only to be quickly hidden behind his hands, even that feels... almost normal, in a weird kind of way.

"Uh. I mean..." Their voice is still loose and rough, rasping through their fingers before they finally let their hands fall from concealing their face. He isn't looking at Dirk, though, still somewhat bashful even now, even after what they literally just got finished doing. "I don't... like. I don't know... I do-- I am into this, like. I mean... obviously--"

A sheepish half-laugh creeps into his splintering voice, an embarrassed kind of smile on his face.

"Obviously I'm into this, but... I don't know, I guess I never, like... thought about it? I don't... know what I'm into, I guess..." Ranboo's head tilts, finally turning their gaze back at Dirk. "How did you... figure out, uh. This stuff, like... what-- got you into the stuff you're into? Like, I haven't even heard of some of the stuff you... want, so, like..."

Fuck, it's hot when his voice does that.

Maybe he's just a bit of an audiophile, or maybe it's just that voices are so much of what people were to him, for so much of his life. The realest part of them, the only part that ever physically touched him; other than the two men who cared for and shaped him, it was just Dirk and the images of the rest of the world on his computer screen. Or maybe Ranboo's voice is just fucking sexy. These aren't mutually exclusive, really. Speaking of visuals, he enjoys watching Ranboo squirm about it. In his detached way, which is more detached than Ranboo has really seemed to catch onto, but also a lot less detached than it sometimes feels.

The ghost of something that might be the imagined shadow of a smile lingers in the softer, more relaxed set of Dirk's face while Ranboo fumbles through their ignorance. It's almost entirely illusory, but when your face is as hard and cold set as Dirk's tends to be, any ease at all could be radiant.

And then, just as invisibly as it was there, the effect disappears. Because he made eye contact with Ranboo--an act that was mostly accidental. But damning all the same.

"Not hard to do," he deadpans immediately. It isn't hard to come up with something Ranboo's never heard of. Harder than you would expect, maybe, but their brain is surprisingly intact for having so much fucking amnesia.

"No offence."

He doesn't break eye contact or look away. It's weird. He thought he'd have a harder time being... here. In this moment. Being asked anything personal, and having to answer to it. But it's just a moment, like the other moments leading up to it. Maybe it's because he did the hard part already. Revealing himself for what he is. And when Ranboo didn't turn on him, he'd given Ranboo the 'what' and 'where' and 'when' of his body in just about every way he thought wouldn't scare the man. It's the 'about' he's been withholding. The 'how' and 'why.'

But it was always going to happen. He felt that in his bones, and... everywhere else. Inside and outside of his flesh. When Ranboo came back, that meant they weren't done.

Peace is always temporary.

"But freak shit runs in the family for me. So I got started young, so if you have to ask about me, you might not like the answers I got. That's your warning."

Edited 2024-06-04 21:59 (UTC)

That answer... gives Ranboo pause. Because there are very few good things it could mean-- at best, maybe he stumbled across a big brother's porn stash or something. Maybe that's all it is. That's what he sincerely hopes is all it means. But something low in their gut tells them that the real meaning is something much, much worse.

"... what do you mean?" There's an odd tone to Ranboo's voice; a quiet kind of dread, knowing the answer isn't going to be pretty somehow, but still uncertain, withholding judgment at least mostly for now. "I mean, you don't-- have to talk about it, like... it's-- okay. I just figured it was... I don't know, maybe stuff you saw online or something."

Said less for Ranboo's own benefit and much more to give Dirk an out, if he wants to take it. They had no idea they were prying into something more personal than, well, what they just did together, something that went that far back.

Dirk's head falls back against the pillow, his eyes closing in only half-fake exhaustion.

"Christ. Okay, I shouldn't have said it like that. I'm not about to--I don't know what you're thinking but now I don't think that what I'm going to say is going to live up to what you've just invented in your head."

He pauses, allowing a moment of silence to settle over their naked bodies.

"Or maybe it will. I don't know what your standards are. I was raised by my brothers, my two older brothers. They had kind of a weird codependency thing going on, but they were identical twins so I think that's just what happens. They kind of locked down their entire life once they had me, because our Mom passed me to them when it came out I wasn't going to "be" a girl, it's kind of.... okay we don't have time for that explanation right now. Point is, they were a 'thing' already, and they didn't want me to grow up unfamiliar or uncomfortable with the body I didn't get to have, or what that body feels like. I'm not going to sugarcoat it and say it was normal, but they weren't normal people, and I wasn't exactly bringing 'normal' to the table myself. Which is all a really fancy way to say that yeah, we were fucking. All three of us were one big incestuous family."

Edited 2024-06-05 14:05 (UTC)

Ranboo is... stunned into silence by that statement for a long moment, processing it, though even in the dim bedroom, their expression clearly reveals the mix of emotions they're feeling. Confusion, disgust, anger and sadness on Dirk's behalf-- their spine is stiff, but a long arm loops around Dirk even as he's still mentally sorting out the revelation that Dirk so casually just dropped.

"Jesus," is all they can say at first. What else do you even say to something like that? And then, as their mind traces the line of the discussion back-- "Wait, so you-- the... the stuff we do is..."

Something sick twists low in Ranboo's gut as he considers what this means.

Watching Ranboo's face, hearing the tone of their voice, Dirk's stomach drops into a pit; his guts feel full of cold oil.

Fuck.

He wasn't prepared for the obvious, and he should have been. But he forgot that Ranboo is only half his, at best, and he didn't prepare for rejection--he should have, but he didn't. Idiot. Stupid inhuman piece of shit. He'd worked through enough of his own psyche to have internalised the fact that while yes, he's fucked up, it's not his doing expressly--on some level, that fact alone led him to forget that while every fucked up part of him still exists, and that everything done to him is reflected in him. All of that, all of him, he's just the symptoms. And the fact that he's not the origin led him to forget that the disease is still repulsive. Somehow. How he forgot at all is almost more dizzying than the pre-hurt emotional plunge.

But now he sees the thoughts and feelings loading in Ranboo's features and remembers.

So the arm comes as a surprise. Enough that it prevents him from further panic immediately. But--

Something hot prickles up his back, beading sweat, and making him aware of adrenaline; his heart is probably racing but it's hard to tell.

"No." The automatic answer could pass for a lie, but it's not. It's just answering a question that isn't what Ranboo meant to ask.

"Or--fuck, you meant something else. In that case. Yeah." He says it with such casualness he doesn't really know where to go from there.

"I mean. I guess maybe finish the sentence first, but yeah."

Edited 2024-06-05 17:42 (UTC)

Whether Dirk realizes it or not, Ranboo can feel the way he's tensing against him, the physical recoil from Ranboo's own reaction, and it makes them feel bad. There's a whole lot to unpack here, but... the only thing that Ranboo can say for sure right off the bat is that whatever Dirk's brothers did to him wasn't his fault.

"S... sorry, I just--" So... so that's where Dirk learned the things that he likes. From... that. And... he's had Ranboo reenact those same things? Something akin to shame washes over Ranboo for having done those things, for having even unintentionally echoed such acts-- and beneath that, there's an alarm, a discomfort.

"You told me to... do things-- that-- that they did to you?" You liked it? Ranboo isn't sure what to say or feel. Why would Dirk do that in the first place? Wouldn't he want to forget about those things? Wouldn't he never want to think about them again?

"Why?"

"Why did I tell you to do it? Because it makes me cum hard," Dirk replies immediately, his mouth operating on a line of processing inaccessible to his conscious control. There's some other kind of function leading his words, a series of choices he's making that make sense until he makes them. Like the conversation he'd like to have had, the words he'd like to use and the explanations and theories he'd like to give, simply don't exist. Not for him. He's noticed this about himself, accepted it a long time ago. But it burns in his chest with everything he can't say or think or be or do.

"As for why I can't get off unless I'm on some sicko shit, the answer is 'there's a lot of science behind why that is' but it boils down to the fact that I'm twisted by nature and perverted by nurture and if that makes you feel ill, then congratulations, you're probably healthy. It's normal to get into stuff that you were exposed to before you're actually ready for sex. But I've been--like, that's not even the bad shit. I've tried to keep things pretty--uh. Pretty excusable. So I know. So don't apologise. It's repulsive, I get that. I do. I'm. Aware."

"It's not--" Well, it is repulsive, but not the way that Dirk probably means it, and Ranboo is struggling to try and communicate that, but... boy, Dirk makes communication difficult. Ranboo cuts themselves off with a sigh, spreads the hand of the arm currently wrapped around Dirk to press long fingers against his back.

How do you even begin to communicate this-- that Ranboo doesn't blame Dirk for the way that he is, that he isn't repulsed by him. That Dirk almost certainly has never done anything half as bad as what Ranboo personally has, whether for sexual reasons or otherwise. Dirk seems to think of himself as a subhuman monster, but... then what does that make Ranboo?

"At least you haven't... like. Killed someone, or... something like that."

The words sound light, but the tone of Ranboo's voice as they're spoken makes it clear that they hold much more weight than he's letting on.

Dirk is... confused, honestly, by the way he's being handled. It's familiar. Comforting. Loving, when he's expecting anything but love right now. The way Ranboo's size dwarfs him, instead of being suffocating, feels so much like what he misses about his brothers. The larger-than-life, immense quality of their presence, their bodies, their touch. He's tense in Ranboo's arms, but even that doesn't tip him off to his own emotional state--fight or flight is so natural to him that he's never caught on to his tendency to freeze. He presses his back into their touch, daring them to let go. Begging for it--for release from the agony of uncertainty, of waiting for the hurt. And when he replies? It's honest, in the terrible, self-sabotaging way that's meant to punish himself for what is true, and punish Ranboo for letting him get this far.

"One, you don't know that. Two, doesn't mean I wouldn't. Three, no but it'd turn me on."

Jesus. It's like Dirk is trying to chase him off-- which is pretty ironic, all things considered. He does love to try and get a rise out of them, but... this feels different somehow. Maybe it's the fact that Dirk is clearly neither getting off on it, nor laughing at him; he seems almost afraid, or the closest thing to it that Ranboo's ever seen.

"I mean. Okay, maybe? But you haven't, so, you know..." Ranboo pauses, glancing off, though his hand where it's pressed against Dirk's back remains gently in place.

"... you're doing better than I am, so..."

It's a softly-spoken, reluctant admission, but maybe it will be enough to make Dirk relax even a little-- or at the very least, distract him from whatever this is that he's currently trying to do.

"You killed someone?" Dirk's mind jumps from the mosaic of self-aggrandising self-loathing to interest perhaps a bit too quickly, with perhaps a bit too much intensity. That much is made even clearer by the way his full-body tension releases just a bit, giving him room to lean back and stare directly into Ranboo's eyes. There's a laserlike focus there, a moment of really, genuinely seeing Ranboo and not just as someone he hates knowing will no longer want him.

Then the second ticks over into the next and the rest of his mind loads into the conversation. The tension is too much; he wants Ranboo to either fuck him over or fuck him into the mattress. Even if it's the former, Dirk's suffering would still feel like this, still makes his cunt tingle with the craving for the way agony feels good. His whole body aches for it, even though they just fucked minutes ago--he wants Ranboo's cock in his ass or mouth, he wants their fist in his hair, their fingertips pressing into his flesh harder--because the alternative is Dirk, alone, humping futilely into the mattress until he goes numb, until he collapses into the hollow desperation of loneliness and insufficiency and apathy. His savage resentment makes him feel insane and horny and now Ranboo is layering more into this in a way he simultaneously wants to seize with both hands and also throw back into their face.

"Why didn't you say anything about it before?" There's a tinge of hurt, or maybe just disbelief. His drawl has that weirdly enunciated edge still, offseting the sincerity with callousness.

"Knowing you had the capacity for murder... that would have changed some things. Or is that why you didn't tell me? You didn't want me to know, because you knew that I'd..."

He trails off, looking into Ranboo's face with a closed-off expression. Searching, while refusing to be searched.

"If you want to be worse than me, then fucking commit. Say it again. Tell me you killed someone and then fuck me. I want your cock hard while you talk. I want details. How it felt. How you did it. How long they took to die. Tell me everything while pumping your load into me and I cum for you. Or else shut your fucking mouth and admit you can't take it."

"I had to." It feels like a lie, even if it truly isn't, even if Ranboo knows, logically, that they only did what they had to do, that the others would've done the same-- right? That Showfall had all of them under control, forced into their little boxes.

Well. There is one death that was entirely Ranboo's own choice and actions, his own anger and fear and agonizing hope driving his hand, but... was that person even really alive to begin with? Were they even really a person at all anymore?

Not that Ranboo really took the time to think about that before jamming a hunting knife into their chest.

But it's when Dirk continues that Ranboo begins to realize that his takeaway isn't anything like what Ranboo feared it would be, but instead something that they're even less sure of how to respond to. It's as if Dirk is desperate to prove that he's the worst, like it's a challenge to his internally assigned title of The Worst.

"No-- Jesus christ, no. I don't want to be worse, I don't-- want any of it, I just... I want to be..." What? Normal? He sighs. "... I just want to be okay. I didn't tell you about it because-- because it makes me feel fucking... terrible."

He had to.

Dirk knows that condition. He knows it well. If Ranboo had stopped there, had simply given him the barest of facts and no more, Dirk might have found a grain of commonality with him. But Ranboo can't keep their mouth shut, and it's not their fault that they can't. Dirk is pushing. Provoking. Forcing the issue. It's not exactly new behaviour from him. Ranboo is more emotionally perceptive than Dirk himself is. At this point, he's almost completely disconnected from himself and what he's feeling. If asked, he could only say this: he's doing it very much on purpose. If further pressed, he could find more: he's in control of what he does. But he's doing it without any real control over the impulse or momentum behind it.

But why? Why does he need to do this? Why does he want it?

That would have earned about the same level of insight as Ranboo gets anyway.

If only Dirk were capable of laughing without repressing it, he'd have laughed into Ranboo's face. Not even maliciously--not purposefully maliciously, anyway. That would have been satisfying, too. But it's not about satisfying anything, or being satisfied. Although that's what has just happened between them.

His voice, instead, is cool and level.

"There it is. That's the difference. That's the problem. That's what's wrong with me."

He continues to stare into Ranboo's face, but his own is still closed off.

Ranboo simply frowns at that, brow furrowed, clearly unsure of how to respond. Dirk is... a puzzle, at the best of times, and this is not the best of times, despite what it was only minutes before. It really is a puzzle, though: why is Dirk so set on being the worst, on feeling the worst? He isn't like some cartoon villain who seems to believe he's in the right with his questionable actions; it's much more like he's almost punishing himself, or trying to deserve being punished. He clearly knows that things that he does and says are terrible, and seems to be honing in on just how terrible they are, but not because he feels justified in being terrible for the sake of it. It's... Dirk has bad thoughts, and knows that they're bad, and he wants to make them worse and for everyone to know and agree that he's the worst, but why? What's the point of all this? Is he just trying to punish himself?

That's the part that Ranboo can't exactly place-- the missing puzzle piece that makes the rest of Dirk's behavior fit together and fall into place. Why? What exactly does he want out of all of this? The obvious answer is that he thinks it's hot, but why?

"Why, though? Like... I know that it like-- gets you off or whatever, but, like... why? I just don't... I don't get it, like... I really don't understand."

"No. You don't. You wouldn't." Dirk manages to sound only slightly bitter. "Which is--again--my point. It's--" He cuts off, his stamina for this revelatory exchange burning out suddenly and with only a moment or two's warning. Seconds ago he was pulled taut--a weapon primed to destroy, the hair-trigger of his mind drawn back like a piston, ready to pulverise a man who had just too much goddamn humanity to connect the dots from what Dirk has been to what he is.

He'd been so excited to strike. And now he just feels raw. Stuck. Frustrated with how much he's suddenly being put upon to explain that--from his perspective--has already been explained.

He shifts in the bed, angling his head to rest the top of it against Ranboo's chest, his jaw pressed back, working silently as he turns this shift in himself over in his mind. He's no less tense, he's just.... on the precipice. He pried himself open and stayed like that for too long, his nerves exposed and wires tangled and smoking.

"...would you still fuck me?"

It comes out entirely too honestly for his taste.

Ranboo is almost taken aback by the sheer pleading earnestness of the question. Honestly, they only just finished a round a few minutes ago, but... well. He's sure they can work their way back up to it.

There is too much in his head, too much pain and confusion, and Dirk seems so tired for once, needy in a way that isn't aggressive or sharp-edged; maybe they should be more concerned about anything that was just revealed to them, maybe he should say no, but... well. All it would really do is hurt Dirk, and leave both of them feeling just as empty and confused as they currently do.

Dirk has been hurt enough already. Regardless of the kind of person he is, or that he thinks he is or even that he wants to be... really, Ranboo is still certain they're the worse of the two, anyway.

Ranboo pulls Dirk close, and then rolls them over, a sudden but careful motion that leaves Dirk beneath him on the bed. They don't answer in words; instead, they dip their head down to kiss him. They've been getting plenty of practice at that since arriving here; for all his rough edges and macho dominance, or... well, macho submission? Dirk is surprisingly interested in kissing, and it isn't something Ranboo cares to complain about, really.

The moments between the asking and the answering are agonising. Literally, physically painful. Inside his ribs is an ache, a sharp pain surrounded by something hollow that pulls at him like a black hole. His stomach hurts in a way that burns. Shame? Resentment? Anger? Hatred? Maybe it's just basic physical nausea. Rejection is expected, but dreaded all the same. And in the meantime that ache builds and his cunt longs for the stroke of fingers--or better, a cock. He wants it in his ass even more, someone bigger than him fucking his body and mind relentlessly down into submission, to a place where he can no longer resist. Whoever he comes out as on the other side is someone else's problem.

But he's really, really expecting rejection.

So while Dirk's surprise at being pulled in is a silent surprise, Ranboo will know it in the tension of his body, the stiffness of his arms and shoulders until he can feel what's happening--on his back, suddenly, beneath them, he lets the air out of his lungs in something like a sigh, breathing out his relief and willingness to be wanted and used, to feel good in a bodily way and release the buildup of stresses that threaten his own sane existence.

"Fuck," he whispers under his breath just before the kiss.

A kiss he meets enthusiastically, teeth seeking Ranboo's lower lip before he pushes his tongue into their mouth at any depth he's allowed, his back arching slightly to press his hips up into them.

Edited 2024-06-09 10:32 (UTC)

"Mmh..."

The press of Dirk's hips against their own, the warm pressure pushed against his only recently-spent cock draws a quiet sound from his throat; despite the tension of the conversation, they had only just finished round one, and Ranboo's nerves are still raw and electric with it.

Still, though, he pushes through, leaning into the pressure rather than giving into the urge to pull away and let their nerve endings settle; they aren't quite hard again yet, but the sensitivity is certainly helping with that.

Not that it really takes much in the first place.

Dirk resolves in that moment to never tell Ranboo where he learned to kiss, or how, or how old--nothing that could put a hint of reluctance between them. He never wants Ranboo to stop kissing him, and he keeps that thought firmly in mind as he disentangles one arm enough to find Ranboo's chest and place his palm against it, fingertips pressing into the warm, reassuring solidity of flesh and muscle under skin. He doesn't pull back, instead shifting his thighs to invite Ranboo to grind into him.

Ranboo knows what that gesture means; they've done this enough times by now that the patterns are familiar, at least for the most part, though Dirk has a definite knack for still managing to shock him now and then. Still, the simplicity of Dirk opening up to pull him in closer is clear, and they obey his unspoken request, though their reaction to it might catch Dirk off guard; he does grind his hips forward, pressing close against Dirk, but it draws a whimper from them, muffled into Dirk's own mouth before they can stop it.

Oh. That's embarrassing.

The pressure and friction sends sparks dancing over Ranboo's skin and beneath it, dancing through their gut, and yeah, he's getting hard again where he's pressed against Dirk, but the sensitivity of it is making it very hard to maintain focus and control of the situation here.

Ranboo wanted to try and take control, for Dirk, but, well... he'll at least keep trying, despite the way the muscle in his legs trembles slightly.

Dirk snorts. It's a small sound--barely a huff of breath out--but the laugh is obvious.

He learned to open up like that, to ask for it, while being under much more stoic or at least more masculine men. Whimpering--neediness--is a humiliating level of weakness that catches him off guard in this moment. And, well. It's funny. It's funny that Ranboo is so sensitive, so expressive and naive to these sensations. The fact that he knows that about them, and that it makes perfect sense, doesn't exactly eliminate the comedic element.

So he snorts a laugh, pressing his thighs together around the half-hard length of him, and rolling his hips before spreading his legs apart again.

"Come on, you can do better than that," he complains, goading them to try and do something a little more suited to topping. He spreads his fingers over the plane of Ranboo's bare chest, gliding his hand over the ample muscle there and flattens his already-monotone voice, disguising the sincerity as raw horny desire.

"I want to feel you inside me again."

Edited 2024-06-12 10:59 (UTC)

"Sorry, just--" Wow, not a fantastic way to start your response to being told to be more dominant. Ranboo hears the words and sighs at himself, but it's a little too late now-- they've already started talking. "I'm just. Still kind of... you know."

They're entirely aware that they couldn't have failed their task of being more dominant harder than they just did, but whatever. It's too late now, it's already out there. In an effort to try and do a little better, he reaches down to grab Dirk's hips in his broad hands, and they roll their hips forward, rubbing their hardening cock over Dirk's still slick entrance.

The gesture makes them shiver, but at least he manages to bite back any more verbal responses, focusing instead on trying to give Dirk what he wants despite the loud thump of his heart in his ears, the way even just this much pleasure is a little too much still and blends into a wall of static that spreads across his nerves.

Dirk groans. Not in a sexy way, but in the exasperated way of a man who knows his partner's shortcomings and is not surprised by them--just maybe a little frustrated. It's not all annoyance, though; he wants Ranboo to be more than they are, but what they are has grown on him, too. It's a bit like hearing a corny joke. Ranboo trying to take a dominant role isn't not bad comedy.

Fortunately, where their mouth fails to pay the bills, their hands do the talking--he loves the feeling of Ranboo's hands, huge and strong with long fingers and broad palms, he loves the way they envelop his hips, smothering the slight curvature he hates while also feeling their shape in a way that makes something in his stomach clench. It's a damn good start, made even better for the sensation of his cock against his hole, the shiver in Ranboo's breath--

Dirk sucks his breath in, anticipating and thrilling for the eventual payoff. Ranboo needs a little more before he's ready, but Dirk is happy to be taken for that ride.

Talking has never really been Ranboo's strong point-- at least, not when confidence is required. He's a much faster learner than one might think at first blush, though, attentive and curious, intelligent enough to analyze and put stray pieces together, and when that doubles with their willingness to please others, particularly someone he actually gives a shit about, well... it only makes sense that they'd have learned the type of physicality that Dirk likes by this point.

It's easy to forget, for this moment at least, everything that Dirk just said, though it does still linger in the back of Ranboo's mind; it's a lot to unpack, particularly while still actively having sex, but, unfortunately, it does also explain a whole lot more about Dirk than Ranboo would hope. His general weirdness towards sex, towards Ranboo, his strange emotional patterns and unpredictability-- Ranboo doesn't pretend to be some kind of expert on trauma and the effects it has on people, but there's no way you come out of experiencing things like what Dirk has intact. And as far as his sexual preferences go... well, Ranboo fights hard to avoid thinking about the origins of that too much. It leaves a sick pit in their gut, and the question spreads outwards and leads to more and more increasingly uncomfortable questions-- ones that the answers really don't ultimately matter in the first place.

Regardless of what Dirk might have Ranboo echoing, he isn't Dirk's brothers. And they aren't acting with the same intent those men certainly did. It's the one thing Ranboo can really assure themselves about when it comes to their own morality; Dirk is someone that Showfall can't force them to hurt, and he has no intention of doing so.

Unless Dirk decides that's what he wants, anyway. But that's a conversation for another day.

For now, Dirk is very willingly beneath them, the slick, blazing heat of his body arching to press against Ranboo, and they push any other thoughts aside to be processed later. Ranboo is hard against him now, or hard enough at least, and despite the way he sucks air in through his teeth simply brushing his cock over Dirk as he shifts back to position himself properly, he slips a hand down between them to line himself up and slowly, slowly start pushing back into Dirk.

"... hnnnnn--" The sound is low and caught between Ranboo's teeth, and they hiss out a breath, trying to not get overwhelmed all at once by the sudden burst of sensation.

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