Work Text:
You're in the middle of running tests on a new battlebot AI when a Trollian window pops up with a handle you don't recognize.
- timaeusTestified began pestering centaursTesticle -
TT: Hey. Equius, right?
TT: I'm Dirk. We met last week at Shouty McNubs's little get together.
TT: We talked robotics, I spilled orange Faygo on your pants.
TT: Sorry about that again, by the way.
Yes, you definitely remember him. Karkat had noticed you loitering in a quiet corner and grouched at you for it, so you allowed him to pull you over to another lurker, a pale human with a lean, muscular build that spoke of physical prowess and hours spent strifing. "Both you assholes are better with machines than actual people, so you have a lot in common," Karkat had said before stalking off and leaving you two staring at one another from behind your respective pairs of shades.
CT: D --> It's not a big deal
CT: D --> Baking soda got the stain out
CT: D --> But how did you get my contact information
TT: I coaxed it out of my brother.
TT: Nice handle, by the way.
TT: It really suggests a certain enthusiasm for masculinity.
CT: D --> Are you making fun of me
TT: I would never jest when it comes to musclebeasts in all their magnificence.
TT: Which I have come to find out is another topic in which we share a considerable amount of interest.
CT: D --> Who informed you
CT: D --> Was it Karkat
CT: D --> If so I'll have to
If it was Karkat you have no idea what you'll do. Be very cross and flustered and possibly say things you'll regret.
TT: Calm your tits, yo.
TT: I just did a little searching on my own. Found your PornyPony profile.
You go cold.
CT: D --> That was private
CT: D --> It's not even under any of my handles
TT: Ah, so it is yours.
CT: D --> Fuck
CT: D --> I mean
CT: D --> Fiddlesticks
TT: Relax, I was just doing a little research to find out if we're compatible.
CT: D --> Compatible
Oh god. He's flirting with you. How is he flirting with you? He'd been stone-faced the entire time you talked to him. You don't know if you want him to be flirting with you. (You definitely want him to be flirting with you.) You flush and feel in abrupt need of a towel.
TT: Well, yeah.
TT: You're hot and you seemed to be pretty fuckin' interested back at that party.
An assortment of profanity tumbles through your head. Were you really that obvious? Yes, you had had to lean close to hear what he was saying because until the conversation got going he mumbled abominably, and yes, you'd sweated rather badly but you always do in social situations.
Maybe it was all of those terrible horse puns and innuendos you'd accidentally made.
TT: I know you're thinking I could have just asked.
TT: But c'mon.
TT: Guys like us with niche interests like we have need to be selective about just who we share them with.
TT: Not like it was that hard to guess at some of yours.
Drat it.
CT: D --> You haven't told me just which interests you share
CT: D --> I still feel this situation requires caution on my part
CT: D --> Until you fess up
TT: That's the way you're going to be, huh?
TT: Ok, let me put it this way:
TT: Every picture in your favorites that I didn't already have saved now resides on my hard drive.
TT: And I wrote three of the fics you bookmarked.
CT: D --> You're that TT
CT: D --> Oh god
You run to the bathroom and towel off. You really should just hop in the shower and turn it on full-blast cold, but a small, rebellious part of you refuses to miss this conversation. You compromise by bringing an entire stack of towels back with you.
TT: I think that's the appropriate response. Especially if you're saying it in the tone you commented on my fics with.
TT: Reverential, awestruck, hungry for more.
TT: Possibly begging for it.
TT: You seem like the type.
You look at your screen and promptly drop the towels all over the floor.
CT: D --> Is this
CT: D --> A proposition
TT: Do you want it to be?
You groan. It takes you a long, heart-pounding moment to answer.
CT: D --> Yes
There's an equally long pause from his end.
TT: Really?
TT: I thought you'd be more reticent.
TT: Have to be coaxed and petted into accepting my advances, what with your high-class blueblood keeping up a facade under any circumstances.
TT: Isn't that the way it goes?
CT: D --> Usually
CT: D --> But we know what we both are
CT: D --> I don't see the point in beating around the bush
Another long pause. Now you're nervous in the way that makes you want to break something. You don't appreciate being made a f00l of. Er, fool of.
CT: D --> If you're going to proposition me I suggest you do it soon
CT: D --> My patience is limited
TT: Ah, there's the blueblood attitude.
TT: Spirited, demanding. I like that.
TT: It'll make it all the more enjoyable to break you to my rein.
Your stomach drops. Oh. Your fingers shake as you answer.
CT: D --> What makes you think you can handle me
CT: D --> It takes more than a foul mouth and an attitude I assure you
TT: Huh. Sassy too, I see.
TT: We'll see how sassy you are when I shove my cock down your throat.
TT: Are you a good little cocksucker, Equius?
You stare open-mouthed at the screen until sweat drips into your eyes. You grab a towel and mop off your face before you reply.
CT: D --> I can be
CT: D --> With the proper incentive
TT: You're not in a place to do the bargaining.
TT: But you're such an eager stallion, I'll be nice.
TT: I'll come over to your place tomorrow night, about 10.
TT: From then until I leave, you're mine, you understand?
CT: D --> What if I have plans
TT: I am the plan, dude, it's me.
TT: Don't even front to me you wouldn't drop everything for this.
CT: D --> Yes
TT: Yes...?
CT: D --> Yes sir, I understand
TT: Good.
TT: Oh, and one last thing.
TT: You aren't allowed to get off before I get to you. I want you gagging for it.
CT: D --> Is that an order
TT: It goddamned well is, pony boy, and you'd better treat it as one.
- timaeusTestified ceased pestering centaursTesticle -
You stare at the Trollian window for quite a while before you go and take that very, very cold shower.
---
You spend the hours after you wake up pacing your hive, your stomach threatening to upturn and your bulge threatening to unsheathe. You're excited to the point that you're dripping with more than just sweat, yes, but you're also beyond nervous. Besides what you assume are the usual worries -- what if he doesn't show up, what if he takes one look at your butlerbot and is so unimpressed -- there's also the tiny little fact that you've never done any of this before.
At all.
Perhaps you should have mentioned that detail the night before, instead of letting yourself get overwhelmed by Dirk's assertiveness. The moment he'd started pushing your buttons it'd been much too easy to roll over and take it. You wonder what you would have done if he'd been like that to you at Karkat's party, and then promptly stop wondering when your bulge stirs.
It's half an hour to ten when it suddenly occurs to you to wonder if Dirk even has your address and, if so, how. Your computer chimes a new message alert and you look to find:
- timaeusTestified began pestering centaursTesticle -
TT: It's almost time. Hope you're ready to go on the ride of your life, ponyboy.
- timaeusTestified ceased pestering centaursTesticle -
That makes you have to take another ice cold shower lest you melt down before he even rings your doorbell.
You've just barely finished toweling off when the doorbell echoes through your hive. You quickly pull on a pair of loose sports shorts -- little enough to look prepared for an interesting night, just enough to maintain deniable plausibility if whoever is at the door isn't Dirk -- and head downstairs.
The butlerbot is just guiding Dirk into the foyer when you arrive. He's in much the same outfit as he was wearing when you met, with the addition of a leather jacket to protect against the chill of a springtime evening. His face is utterly impassive behind his odd eyewear; if he's looking around and judging your decorating choices, you can't tell.
… Your face is an open book, since you forgot to put your own glasses on. Fiddlesticks.
Your butlerbot stops when it senses your presence. "The Mas-ter of your nook to-night," it announces, and gestures to Dirk -- who has stopped dead in his tracks well behind the butlerbot, a flush blooming across his cheeks.
"Er. Yes," you say, and wave the butlerbot away. "Welcome. Master."
"I, uh." Dirk swallows hard enough to make his adam's apple bob noticeably. "That was a joke. You can just call me Dirk. For now."
"Yes, Dirk," you say, trying for obedience even though you really aren't feeling it yet. You shift from foot to foot. Should you offer him a drink and grubcakes, or just go upstairs? You don't want to look as eager as you are. Or do you? But you already shooed your butlerbot...
Dirk makes the decision for you. He whips off his jacket and slings it over his shoulder before coming close. "Let's get this party started," he says in what you think is supposed to be a sexy growl but is more along the lines of comically strained. You quirk an unimpressed brow and his flush deepens.
You're consumed with a flush of your own when he runs a (surprisingly steady) hand down your chest. "Unless you regularly get fucked in your foyer?"
"I-I. No, I do not," you huff. "Follow me."
You make a most embarrassing noise as Dirk pinches your nipple and pulls. "Follow me...?"
"Sir," you gasp as he gives it a tug. "Follow me, sir."
"That's better," he says and lets go.
That definitely put things back on track regarding your libido. Every step makes you more acutely aware of your genitals, and you're nearly vibrating by the time you reach the room you've set up for play. You're so worked up that Dirk slides a hand down your back and you almost yelp; if he hadn't hesitated just above the waistband of your shorts and pulled his hand away, you may have made another embarrassing sound.
"Raring to go?" Dirk drops his jacket on a chair before he moves to face you, and looks pointedly at your crotch. He breathes a sigh through his nose. "Nah, I don't see your crotch snake thrashing around in there."
You clench your groin muscles to make extra sure your bulge doesn't suddenly unsheathe. How dare he sound disappointed? Never mind that your nook is sloppy wet again just from that nipple pinch. You draw yourself up to your full height and say, "Perhaps you should make more of an effort to entice it out," your tone dripping with disdain.
Dirk's flush returns even hotter than before. He stares at you deadpan for a good few heartbeats, long enough you begin to feel more than a touch doubtful about this whole operation. But when he moves, you hardly have time to register it before he has you by your good horn and is dragging your head down to his.
"You gonna sass me more, ponyboy?" he says breathlessly, his voice wavering.
You resist when he tugs your horn again. "What if I do?"
Dirk gives your horn a yank and manages to pull your head down a little more. "Then I'm gonna have to-- to-- give you some incentive to, uh. Be good."
You can practically hear the uncertain or something that you're sure he's thinking. You frown into his shades. "You've never done this before."
He goes pale. "What?"
"You have no idea what you're doing and and you're playing me for a fool!" You toss your head, freeing yourself from his loosened grasp. Dirk flinches away and you scowl. "Excuse yourself from the premises before I get angry."
He holds up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, dude--"
You bare your teeth. "Don't you use horse puns on me--"
"Shut up for a minute!" Dirk grimaces and rakes a hand through his hair. "Look. I thought I had this planned out well enough. I read up on a few scenarios, refreshed myself on your fetishes, thought I was good to go." He shrugs, a little inward pull of embarrassment. "I didn't expect you to be totally new to this too."
You gape. "How could you--" you start, then go all hot as you realize you fell for that trick again.
He laughs. "C'mon, bro, you pretty much creamed your panties when I pinched your nipple."
"Perhaps I'm just sensitive," you bluster.
"Goddamn, really?" Dirk pulls his shades down just enough for you to see his eyes, so you know he's looking you up and down. Lingeringly. You're annoyed at how hot it is. "Then I should leave, because if a titty tweak made you swoon, me fucking you is going to be straight-up murder."
You don't quite strangle the weird noise you make. You still want him more than you want to kick him down the stairs, but just barely. "You're-- you're being extremely presumptuous." He smirks and your nook throbs, but you clamp down on it and loom at him. Just a little.
"Huh. I guess I am." He pushes his glasses back up. "Thought you liked that in a guy."
"When he knows what he's doing."
"Ouch. I've pretty much blown my load on that point." He snickers at the face you make. "Well, ponyboy, I'm still interested, but it looks like you need a little courting after all." Very deliberately, he slides his shades off and places them on an endtable before meeting your eyes.
"Maybe I've got to fuss over you." Even though Dirk's voice has steadied into a soothing lilt, without his glasses he looks unsure of himself, vulnerable. "You ain't gonna be anyone's prize stallion just like that. You're proud and wary, you need some respect, some deference from me if you're going to behave. I have to earn your trust. "
He's edged closer with every word, stretching an arm out a little bit at a time once he's close enough, like you really are a wild horse that he's trying to tame. It's ludicrous, but you can't bring yourself to look away. "You're a good boy, ain't you? Or you want to be. I'll show you how to be good."
Dirk runs a hand over your side and you start. How had you not realized he'd gotten this close? You're slipping -- but he's murmuring to you again as he strokes the lines of your grubleg scars, his eyes still locked on yours. "Shhh, shhh, that's a good boy, that's a pretty pony, Dirk's going to take good care of you..."
This is, you realize, just like something out of a wiggler book like Fionah the Musclebeast Tamer, and you're the musclebeast. Worse still, it's working; you've broken out in a sweat all over and your bulge feels too big for its sheath. You groan in embarrassment and try to pull away, but Dirk is there, petting you and murmuring to you still.
"You like this, huh? You're such a good boy. Such a pretty boy." Dirk cups your face briefly before reaching to stroke your ear, the kind of pulling stroke you really, really like. Your eyes drift shut despite yourself. "Think we can be friends?"
He actually sounds like he's asking and the conclusion isn't foregone. "Yes... Yes, I think so," you say, and sigh with contentment.
"I'm glad to hear it." Dirk presses close enough his breath is hot on your neck. "Can I go for a ride?"
Your nook flutters, and the last of your obstinacy crumbles. "God, yes," you say, and nuzzle the side of his head. "Should I... get ready to be mounted?"
"Hell yes you should," Dirk says, his voice hitting that comically strained note again. Now, however, it makes you enthusiastic. You turn and kick your shorts off before settling on all fours, your rump in the air. The noise of naked want Dirk breathes makes you shudder and your bulge unsheathe all at once.
"Goddamn, you're fuckin' magnificent." There's the sound of a zipper and a hasty ruffle of clothes before callused hands stroke your rump and spread you open. "D-do you need any more coaxing, pretty boy, or are you ready to ride?"
Your bulge curls restlessly between your thighs and you squirm. "Take me--"
Dirk scrambles close and nuzzles his cock against the folds of your nook. You groan and spread yourself wider, lift your rump higher, a mare in heat rather than a proud stallion. Dirk murmurs breathless encouragements all the same, hands gentle on your hips until they suddenly aren't and the blunt thickness of his cock thrusts into you.
Your nook isn't prepared for the shock, sloppy wet though it is, and you cry out in more pain than pleasure. "Oh shit--" Dirk's hands gentle again to stroke your hips, trace your grubleg scars. "Shh, shh, it'll be okay, I promise, I'll take care of you--"
You relax little by little, your pain-quickened breath slowing as your nook gets used to Dirk being behind you, against you, inside of you. He's not really bigger than your human-made concupiscent toy, but having him there and rocking gently into you is so, so different than fucking yourself with that toy. It's so good.
"More," you groan into your arms.
Dirk arches into you cautiously at first, too cautiously, until you make an impatient noise and buck up against him. He moans and digs his fingers into your hips as he thrusts faster. "Harder," you growl, and he slams into you, all caution gone.
Your cries now are shameless and all pleasure at being filled, being fucked like you could never fuck yourself, hard and fast with fingers bruising your hips. Your bulge writhes between your thighs, aching and heavy with need, and you finally can't stand it anymore; you fist your bulge and groan.
"Fffuck, oh fuck," Dirk gasps. He tangles his hand in your hair and pulls hard enough to make you gasp and lift your head. "Head up, stallion, I've got to hear this--"
He pulls again and it hurts in the way you like best, the way that makes your bulge thrash in your grip. "Nhhhhnngggh aah, aah, AH--!" He pulls a third time, harder, frantic as his own gasped moans, and you scream as quakes of ecstasy take you.
You're dimly aware of when Dirk follows, his cries frantic and relieved in a way that tinges your feelings red. His hand slips from your hair and you slump, gasping against the floor, your thighs shaking with the effort of keeping you upright. His hands pet your hips vaguely. "That's... that's a good stallion," he says hoarsely. "Best fuckin' ride a boy could have."
You try to laugh, but it comes out kind of choked and overwhelmed. "Shhh. I ain't gonna put you away wet," Dirk murmurs, sounding a bit overwhelmed himself. He pulls out and shuffles away, leaving you sore and empty and light as a cloud.
It's only a few moments before he's back and wiping you down with one of the big stack of towels you'd left in here earlier. You're tense, at first -- this is even newer than the sex was, this tenderness, but after a moment you can't help but relax and roll over onto your side and out of the way, too worn out to do anything but watch Dirk mop up.
He's a rumpled mess, his neatly coiffed hair gone to a curly tangle from his exertion and his clothes pulled every which way, and it looks like he doesn't have a care in the world as he mops up your genetic material as best he can from the rug. You're about to tell him not to bother when he tosses the towel aside and comes over to pillow your head in his lap.
You blink up at Dirk, startled. He quirks and pets your ears. "I always wanted a pony."
"Hmph." You flush and pointedly close your eyes. "I am not a toy."
"Nah, you're a magnificent stallion that I've befriended in a magical way." He gives your ear a pulling stroke that gets a sigh out of you. "We'll have many sexy adventures and go on to win the Triple Crown. I just need a nickname for you, something that shows off your effervescent spirit."
You furrow your brow and open your eyes. "Excuse me?"
Dirk grins at you as he scritches between your horns. "How's Misty sound? You look like you could be a Misty."
Oh for heaven's sake. "No," you say forbiddingly.
He scritches closer to your horns and your vision goes all hazy. "C'mon. It'll be just like my Pony Pals books."
"Absolutely--" Your eyelids flutter and you sigh a moan. "--not."
"Bro, you can't be my pony pal if you don't have a nickname." Dirk starts stroking your horns. "Otherwise it's gonna be like calling a horse Horse all of the time."
"It's accurate," you mumble, trying not to purr.
"What fun is that. Nah, I'll think up a good one for you... Master Oats." He snickers at your growl. "Dependable? Oh, I know, this is perfect -- Big Blue Valentine."
"Oh my god." You press your hands to your face. "If those are the alternatives, Misty is fine."
Dirk bursts out laughing in a way that sounds like it took him by surprise. You like it, even when he says, "Pff, relax, dude. I would never call you something as insipid as Misty."
You try to glare at him. "I should hate you," you grumble.
"You totally don't," Dirk says, and returns to petting your ear with a funny, vulnerable little smile.
He's right. You totally don't.