for stridercest week day 6, dreams, i dug up something i started jamming on discord ages ago and started working on it again… but i’ve only managed to get halfway through the brand new dream scene, so instead i’ll post a chunk of the context for it. ~950 words of nsfw dirkdave phone somnophilia under the cut!
*
It's getting late, they've been talking longer than usual when Dave’s words start slowing and cracking into yawns, and then there's a moment of quiet and he thinks Dave's drifting off when he says, quietly, "Thanks, Dirk."
"Sure thing, bro," Dirk says, heart in his throat. "You feeling better? Lemme know if you need me to fluff your ego some more," and Dave laughs softly, says "I'm good, but please, feel free to (indecipherable mumble) so great, can always...." and Dirk thinks he says something about practicing for his adoring public but it's so muddled he can't really make it out, and Dave is asleep before he finds the end of his sentence.
"Dude, I will talk you up anytime," Dirk tells him. Smooth low voice, even tone, soothing practically to the point of hypnosis: check. "Still can't believe that bitch turned you down, but I'm kinda glad I won't have to be horribly jealous of her for the next however long, like I would if she'd said yes."
He shifts around on his bed, getting comfortable for what he hasn't quite admitted to himself he's going to do.
Hundreds of miles away, Dave makes a tiny growly noise in his sleep. It's painfully adorable.
"I should probably apologize in advance for hating all of your girlfriends," Dirk tells him. "It's nothing personal, well, I guess it is, but it'll be nothing to do with them really, it's just that I really want to be the one sucking your dick." He freezes for a moment, sort of shocked that he actually said it, half expecting Dave to be awake again and listening and laugh, thinking he's joking, or curse, knowing he's not--but Dave just keeps breathing, with the faint whistling noise he makes sometimes when he's sleeping, and Dirk relaxes in a heady rush of getting away with it, laughs a little and listens to Dave breathe and lets himself think about all the things he wants.
Dirk feels kind of dumb for how wired and winded he feels after saying one little confessional sentence to a dude who didn't even hear it, like he has to take a couple deep breaths and maybe lie down for a minute to recover, calm himself down a little. It's ridiculous how hard his heart is pounding. He can feel it in his dick, which doesn't think this adrenaline rush is dumb at all, apparently. Fuck.
He focuses on the soft sound of Dave's breathing, which doesn't do much to stop him winding himself up, really, but it does help him center himself, match his own inhale and exhale to the gentle pattern set by his sleeping brother until he can talk again without doing any embarrassing desperate panting.
"I really do," he says. "I want you so bad, bro, I know you probably thought I was spinning bullshit with all that talk about how you're basically the apotheosis of attractive dudes, but. I wasn't even exaggerating, man, you're so fucking hot I can't stand it sometimes, I look at you and I just want to--" Fuck, he needs to do a better job controlling his voice, he's speeding up too much, not getting loud yet but he was nearly at his normal speaking volume, there, which is pretty quiet but it's too fucking loud for this.
He reins himself in, makes himself whisper, closes his eyes and pretends the soft sounds he hears are in the room, not coming from the phone on the pillow next to him.
"I wish I could touch you."
"I think about it all the time," he says, and in his mind he's looking at Dave's sleeping face, reaching out to brush fingers through his hair, leaning in to kiss him.
"How I'd touch you, if I got a chance. If you let me. I'd make it so good, Dave, you don't even--you've never, nobody's ever given you a blowjob, have they? I really seriously don't get why all the kids in your school aren't lining up around the block to get a chance at you, dude, maybe they think they're not good enough for you, and let's be real, they'd be right about that, you deserve better than some... some high school idiot, bro, some half-assed sloppy amateur--you deserve the best fucking blowjob anyone's ever had, okay, and I want to give it to you, just go to town on your dick like it's my goddamn mission in life to make you blow your load in my mouth--"
Somewhere in there Dirk's half-rolled over, one arm propping him up over a brother who isn't there, as if all his fervent murmuring was directed into Dave's ear, just the way he's imagining it. His eyes are still closed, his hips grinding an uncertain rhythm against the quilt rucked up and wadded between his thighs.
He's panting again, shivering, quiet more out of breathlessness than restraint as he loses the thread of his confession and stops trying for coherence, half-moaning his brother's name, "Dave, fuck, oh my god, Dave, Dave--"
He's breathing hard, shuddering with aftershocks, and he knocks the phone with his face when he slumps down into the pillow. The screen wakes up, displaying the call time still running, and he feels a sudden spike of panic--whispers, "Dave?" with his heart in his throat and gets back nothing but that same soft steady familiar sound of his brother sleeping--and the panic subsides like a wave sucked back to sea, leaving him limp and sleepy and feeling too good for guilt or shame to find purchase in his mind.
The next morning Dirk tries to tell himself it was a one-time thing. He won't do it again.
He's too self-aware to really believe it.
