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. 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.

Dirk, for his part, is of two minds about what he's revealed about himself. He didn't really expect Ranboo to take it any way but how he clearly did. Which is to say, badly. In that sense, he feared--and still fears--he's made a mistake. And he can't quite keep himself from hoping, at least a little bit, that Ranboo will just... move on from it. That it will be basically forgotten and they can just enjoy the fact of each other's bodies without remorse.

But it's a massive relief to have laid bare his history and cleared his... not conscience, exactly, but at least his mind. It is a matter of conscience, though, at least to some degree. It wasn't something Dirk was prepared to divulge in so many words, not on the spot like that, but the truth of it is that he's complicit in the making and the feeding of the monster he knows himself to be, and he feels the myriad hungers and cravings and urges pressing on him from the inside.

Whatever Ranboo may think of Dirk's brothers, he is indirectly thinking of Dirk himself. Because Dirk wants those same things. He has those same appetites, those same instincts and tendencies. It's a shared nature, and he's trapped by it. Unable to transition from victim to perpetrator, his body still hungers for that touch, for the sensation of force and being forced. The burning of lungs desperate to receive even a quarter second of breath, the searing of nerve endings exposed to open air and he accompanying wetness of blood, the percussive impact of bone against a solid surface. All the ways they occupied his body, his flesh joining with his brain in coconspiracy to wrack his waking hours with memories. If he was really a victim of anything other than the crime and consequences of being himself, it wouldn't make him wet to remember, and he wouldn't have spent his childhood humping mattresses in relentless search of more.

And more is what he wants. Always. To be perpetually unsatisfied seems to be his specific burden, in more ways than one. That Ranboo tries--not just right now, but often, regularly, frequently, consistently--is something special that Dirk is afraid to fully confront, for fear that upon recognition of something so valuable and so wanted, he'll lose it. This is a subconcious fear, though. Right now, he's getting what he wants, what he needs in order to even deal with any of it. Because of Ranboo.

Mind, he isn't an idiot--he knows this is very, very soon to be asking this of them. Like, physically. Which gives him a kind of rush--of power, of gratitude, of fresh arousal. Of emotion, really. His cunt is hot with it. It's a lot, and in a very good way. He holds his breath, relaxes against the head of the cock he can feel pressing into him to give Ranboo an easier time. The heat of Ranboo's too-sensitive, barely recovered erection against his entrance is intense in a way that almost confuses his body, enhancing the "first" stretch with fresh sensation as slick slips out from his neglected slit, running down and wetting his asshole and Ranboo's cock anew.

"That's it, take it slow.... go deep, I want you all the way." There's a deep ache somewhere around his pelvis, approaching his tailbone. Leftover from the first round. This is going to hurt, he knows, and in the best way.

Ranboo can't help but wonder if, one day, maybe he'll actually learn to be as good at talking during sex as Dirk is. For all his weirdness and the questionable nature of some of the things he says, he still always manages to find something to say that makes their head spin faintly, but the more Ranboo thinks about it to try and figure out exactly what it is about his words that makes them so effective, the more flustered they become about it. He might have worked through some of his shyness and nerves, but there's still a fairly solid wall there keeping his mouth mostly shut during sex.

Maybe one day they'll figure it out.

That aside, it's been a little embarrassing to realize a few things about themself sexually-- things that he does seem to be into, and some of them, he can't help but groan in exasperation at himself over. Really? That? Compared to someone so certain of themselves as Dirk, it's more than a little humiliating.

They sink into Dirk deeper, slowly, both for Dirk's benefit and their own; the sensation of going again so soon is strange, uncomfortable, but not unpleasant, not entirely. Dirk's body feels cooler around his overheated and overworked cock, if only a little, and thankfully, the generous lubrication from before is still helping move things along, but the pressure and friction is still enough to make Ranboo's muscles tremble slightly as they move inside of him.

He pauses once he's buried himself entirely into Dirk again, holding himself up over Dirk on his elbows; his breathing is harsh and quick, reflecting his otherwise silently being overwhelmed, and they take a deep breath before hissing it out through their teeth, trying subtly to settle themselves. Were Dirk to listen, he could almost hear the overwhelmed thump of Ranboo's racing heart in their chest.

Dirk is listening. It's a weird thing--he's always been intimately acquainted with the heartbeats of the only other human beings he's really known, and his own. It's such a constant in his life--the intensity of a pulse racing from adrenaline or exertion. Combat, fear, sex, it all sounds the same, feels the same in the pulse. He can watch the pulse of cows dying on the floor and on the hook, or the humans and animals in any number of fucked up online videos. It's a unifying feature.

Right now, he can feel Ranboo's pulse inside of him, its pace set against his own. Especially in the tight ring of muscle connecting them, his asshole stretched tight around their cock--their cock which is, at this moment, pressing on his insides so deeply it aches. Overexerted muscles voice their protest and it hurts a bit, especially back down near his tailbone, where some internal organ or muscle is most unhappy with his pleasure. But Dirk couldn't be happier.

"I'm so full of you," he breathes out, closes his eyes and takes another breath, releases it in a shaky sigh of contentment. Above him, Ranboo's wild hair is tousled and stringy with sweat, his face flushed to match his crazy heartrate. If Dirk could just frame this moment--or if he could move without possibly giving the man a heart attack. His cunt throbs, and he lets out another breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"Hey." He reaches up with one hand, touching the side of their temple. "You look amazing like this."

Jesus christ, it's like Dirk is trying to kill them.

Dirk's words make their head feel heavy and too hot, a breath escaping him a bit too loudly; he wordlessly catch's Dirk's mouth in another kiss, this one quite a bit more needy, rushed as if they're overcome and not sure how else to vent at least some of what's built up. It's an unusually desperate gesture, the typically reserved Ranboo seeming more than a little bit overwhelmed.

At the same time, he also begins to try and move inside of Dirk-- achingly slowly, but even that is enough to send sparks dancing over his vision, and he can't help but huff a much smaller sound into Dirk's mouth, one that falls lower into his chest than before.

Dirk is caught off guard by the sudden rush of enthusiasm and ardour--it's a very good kind of surprise, mind, but Ranboo manages to catch him speechless for a second, his ass tightening reflexively around Ranboo's hot, filling cock as he adjusts to the kiss. This time Dirk relaxes into it; his eyes fall shut, his hand reaching up to find Ranboo's wild hair and tangle in it as he hums something appreciative and hungry into Ranboo's mouth until he has to take a breath, which comes short and fast.

The shift of Ranboo's weight inside him is heavy--exaggerated by how sensitive he still is, though it's not quite the same as the sensitivity Ranboo is battling simply to be in him. It's an incredible feeling--and the sound of his own breathing is laced with a quiet moan as Ranboo begins to move, the relentlessness that had seized him while they spoke finally starting to chip and fall away, replaced by the feeling of being wanted. Loved, even. Ranboo is feeling good, and that feels good. He's shifting from doing what Dirk wants, which is what Dirk always wants, to taking his pleasure in Dirk, which is what Dirk needs. He needs that more than anything--if Ranboo can fuck him, can cover his body with his body and want to feel him under him and around him, if he can take what he needs and still demand more of it, then Dirk is still safe. His heart is safe. He won't be hurt in any way he can't take.

If he could only convince Ranboo to hurt him more in the ways he can--

But right now, the new waves of sensation in his too-sore, too-stretched, too-used body are more than enough.

Fuck me, he mouths against Ranboo's lips.

It's shorter than what he really means: use me, want me, hurt me, rape me, I don't care. Just fuck me.

Perhaps unfortunately for Dirk-- or maybe fortunately, depending on his mood and viewpoint-- Ranboo would refuse at least one of those demands outright, and another would take quite a bit of convincing. The first two, however...

They roll their hips slowly, shallowly, for now, attempting to adjust to the steady, sparkling burn of their still-raw nerves; every little motion feels magnified and yet somehow numbing, a faint whiteness shining behind their lids where they've closed their eyes to kiss Dirk. This is definitely the least downtime they've ever taken between rounds, and Ranboo is absolutely feeling the effects of not resting for longer first; the faint yet steady tremble in his thighs as he moves is evidence enough of that, the way his breathing shakes in his chest and escapes in almost a hiss.

He breaks the kiss finally to press his heated face against the crook of Dirk's neck, breathing harsh and hot against Dirk's skin. It's a grounding gesture, something to try and keep them from going totally nuts from just how overwhelmed their senses currently are, but it's also an attempt to catch his breath; he just... needs a moment.

It is unfortunate, and Dirk is at least on some level aware of it--and has been avoiding it, resolutely, for quite some time. The truth is that all the sex in the world, while satisfying a number of needs Dirk has been bearing in stoic (and not-so-stoic) solitude for what feels like years now, doesn't exactly leave him feeling complete. It's a relief, and a release, and a very, very real need... but as he himself has been discovering since the first time he hilted Ranboo and took him raw straight to climax, it's not everything.

No, that's not accurate.

He knew that wasn't everything, knew it wouldn't be everything. But just how much isn't being satisfied by sex and attention and touch and everything else Ranboo gives him is something he's been uncovering gradually. He's been getting his pain wherever he can, in the meantime--including like this. It's harder on Ranboo than it is on him, but he wants it to be harder on him. He wants to push it further, wants Ranboo to really rip his hole apart and fuck him up. He wants to be--if not so fucked out that he can't move or think, then at least leave his guts wrecked and his hole gaping and raw, his stomach muscles so sore that another round makes him want to heave. Being able to think after is fine, just this once. He still needs to be able to talk. And yet a small part of him also wonders if maybe it's better if this time he can't.

Maybe he just wants an excuse.

"What's wrong?" he murmurs into Ranboo's ear--almost tenderly, mostly goadingly. "Can't do it?" He runs his fingers back through Ranboo's hair, tracing fingertips along his scalp until he finds bare skin--his neck--which he follows down to the line of his shoulder. He rubs Ranboo's broad shoulder, equal parts reassurance and insurance that Ranboo's still with him. The little pat he gives their back after, in contrast, feels entirely condescending. "If you're going to give up, I can always ride you."

Actually, scratch what Ranboo was just thinking about Dirk being hot and sexy. He's just rude, and also mean.

Ranboo huffs a sound that's almost a flustered scoff against Dirk's neck, lifts his head to frown down at him.

"N-- no, I can do it, I just. Needed a second." They aren't sure even as they do it why they're bothering to argue; it's pretty transparent that Dirk is just trying to get a rise out of him, but unfortunately, being aware of that doesn't make it any less effective.

As if to prove his point, Ranboo fucks into him just a touch more forcefully-- which actually backfires magnificently when it makes their own head spin wildly, their body visibly trembling slightly in response to the sensory overload.

"Fuck," they swear quietly, trying to stifle it under their breath and mostly failing.

Dirk is both of those things. He is also hot and sexy. He can be rude and mean while being that. He contains multitudes, and some of those multitudes are extraordinarily horny. But that thrust hits him right where he needs it--his ache for pain, his appetite for it, ebbs a little in favour of acknowledging the fresh pleasure.

Instead of an acerbic retort, as he might have wanted to give, the sound that comes out of him instead is pitched low usual--an outright pornographic little moan, as Ranboo hits nerves already sensitive from their round before, and his body tight around their cock in response. His cunt throbs with heat; the pressure against it from inside feels so goddamn good. It's not fair. It's not fair how good that feels, how good cock feels. How much better it would feel if--

Ah--ahn...!" Fuck. Fuck, that felt good. Fuck, that was embarrassing. But not so embarrassing he doesn't want more.

"Yes," he breathes.

His eyes fall shut, reflexively.

Edited 2024-06-19 11:24 (UTC)

Oh, Jesus Christ. That sound shoots down Ranboo's spine like something molten, settling low and burning in their belly; despite the way their exhausted nerves sing and burn, they do it again, and again, driving into Dirk with a renewed focus. Or lack of focus-- it isn't really clear, even to him. All he knows is that hearing Dirk's voice that way is good, and that they want to hear it again.

He barely even notices the sounds that he's making, lost beneath the hazy static cloud that lays thick over his brain; while Ranboo might not be very verbal during sex, that doesn't by any means imply that they aren't vocal. Each thrust is marked by a soft, mindless sound in his throat, an accent to his overwhelmed, panting breathing.

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