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Dave’s having a party again. Music filters up from somewhere downstairs despite your headphones. It’s bad enough being out of the Houston apartment, but Dave’s such an attention whore that he constantly needs to pile people into the house. You hate noise, and you hate groups of people, and you especially hate loud, drunk groups of people falling over themselves to kiss Dave’s ass. He's down there somewhere, soaking it all in. Probably absolutely blasted too.
The biggest problem, of course, is that he’s not satisfied with attention from you.
You internally debate the merits of going downstairs. Among the cons: your aforementioned hatred of crowds, the possibility of the most vapid people on the planet attempting to engage you in conversation, Dave noticing you and parading you around. The pros: good food—Dave always gets catering you like in the hopes of luring you out, the possibility of overhearing hot Hollywood gossip, and you being able to watch Dave for a while.
You linger on this decision for over an hour until the festivities get unbearably loud and you could really go for some sort of outrageous fried thing.
Dave’s L.A. house is a douchey modern place, and you can feel the plexiglass slats that form his staircase vibrate in time with the bassline pumping through the sound system. Your feet are bare, both in protest of the party and because you can’t be assed to put on shoes in what should be your own home.
It’s not hard to find Dave; he’s the one in the middle. He’s obviously drunk but has an impressive ability to chatter through it, arm gestures getting larger and larger. At one point he almost falls, but rights himself at the last second and scans for witnesses. You wonder if anyone other than you saw.
You lurk on the edges of the conversation. It’s mostly a boring slog of real estate talk and networking, but sometimes Dave brings you up around sips of whatever frightful concoction has been most recently handed to him.
DAVE: dirk dropped out of college to start this engineering business its so badass
You hate when he does this, but not enough to butt in. You stew in silence, just outside his line of sight.
DAVE: hes kind of a prodigy
DAVE: always been a smart kid
ASS KISSER: Woww mr Strider thats amazing!
DAVE: yeah hes pretty great
DIFFERENT ASS KISSER: Is he looking for new investors? I’d love to give him my card.
At this point you become so disgusted that you drift over to a corndog cart that’s been parked haphazardly next to a sculpture that, from a certain angle, looks like Stiller and Wilson making out. You receive a corndog and commiseratory look from the bored girl manning the cart.
DIRK: Can I get you a drink or something?
CORNDOG GIRL: Back off, creep!
DIRK: I’m gay.
She pointedly eyes your joggers and tank top.
CORNDOG GIRL: Sure.
Baffled from this exchange, you somehow miss an incoming Dave.
DAVE: dirk!
DAVE: heeeeyyy dirk
He slings an easy arm around your shoulders and immediately begins a round of the game you both hate. Dave tries to maximize the amount of time you spend talking to various guests, and you try to scare them off as quickly as possible. You speed through two encounters just by deepthroating the corndog, but it feels cheap.
SOME DOUCHE: great to meet you dirk!
OTHER DOUCHE: Last I heard, you were getting a bachelor’s in electrical engineering?
DIRK: I had a mental breakdown and dropped out of college.
DOUCHE 2: Oh.
DOUCHE 1: haha...
Dave elbows you.
DIRK: Sometimes I work freelance.
DAVE: well the guys kind of a downer but you gotta admit hes a fucking badass
DAVE: dug himself out of a helluva hole and its only up from here
Dave raises his cup to this empty statement; doing so tilts him into you, his solid arm on your shoulders and hot breath on your neck. You hate how much you want to fuck him, your libido backstabbing your only-somewhat-petty hate campaign.
DAVE: anyway hes a great roomate
DAVE: the kids pretty quiet plus we like the same movies and takeout
DOUCHE 1: lol dave is that why you have these food carts in here?
DOUCHE 2: Wait, you live with him?
Dave defensively sways into you even further, tightening his hold on your shoulder and drawing his other arm in so fast that his drink splashes on your shirt.
DAVE: yeah of course he lives with me why wouldnt he
He looks down and belatedly notices that he’s spilled on you.
DAVE: oh sorry man
Given the circumstances, you find it reasonable to put an arm around his waist to steady him.
DOUCHE 2: Oh, not to judge or anything.
DOUCHE 2: But how’s he supposed to learn how to make it in the real world if you keep coddling him?
You’re used to people talking about you like you're not in the room, but it’s still shitty. Dave squeezes your shoulders.
DIRK: I seem to be the one doing the coddling.
Dave guffaws into your neck then slams the rest of his drink.
DIRK: Speaking of, I’m gonna get him to some water.
DAVE: my hero
You begin the awkward process of turning yourself and Dave around. He helps just enough to get in the way.
DIRK: See you.
DOUCHE 2: Uh huh.
DOUCHE 1: bye dave!
If you killed them where they stand it would be justified self defense.
You manage to hustle Dave into a relatively quiet corner, snagging an unopened water bottle on the way. This would have been easier if you removed your right arm from around his waist, but you just can't help feeling up his side through his dress shirt. He keeps his arm around you too, so you're covered.
The back of your neck is sweating. You don't think you're imagining it when he also seems reluctant to let go as you prop him against the wall.
DAVE: thanks for getting me outta there those guys are douches
DIRK: Yeah.
Dave gives you that soft little infuriating smile.
DAVE: hey are you enjoying the party
DAVE: the food carts are pretty good right
He leans forward into the little space you’ve given him between yourself and the wall.
DAVE: dirk?
DIRK: Yeah?
DAVE: were good right
DAVE: like
DAVE: like you still
You raise your eyebrows, but he doesn't get more coherent.
DIRK: We’re good, Dave.
At least, you're as good as you ever are.
He gulps more water; you inch closer while he's distracted. His body emits so much heat, and he smells like stale sweat and alcohol. You want to tie him down just so you can smell him forever—embarrassing.
DAVE: how long would you hate me if i paraded you around some more
DIRK: It’s on the order of magnitude of eons, dude.
DAVE: i know i just like showing you off
His pride makes you hot under the collar even though you hate how he shows it.
DIRK: I’m going to go back to my room.
DAVE: aw man cmon at least have a drink with me
DAVE: we can stay right here in this corner you dont have to talk to anyone
DIRK: The antisocial aspect of that proposal is tempting...
DAVE: haha thats more like it
Dave magically summons a couple of drinks from the crowd. They’re brightly colored, which thankfully means they taste good. True to his word, Dave keeps his endless stream of babble pointed solely towards you. You bask in it, sipping through your straw as he switches between detailing a disastrous nighttime shoot and asking your thoughts on his latest series of jokes strung into a passably coherent plot.
As your drink reaches its end he leans further and further onto you, resting his head on top of yours. You make an executive decision.
DIRK: You’re gonna pass out, I’m taking you upstairs.
DAVE: youre so responsible
He willingly trails after you to the shitty staircase, throwing out a couple careless goodbyes and more than a couple explanations of how good a brother you are for putting him to bed. You can’t tell how sarcastic he’s being.
The trek upstairs is a long one. Dave starts complaining almost as soon as you clear the huddle of guests camped at the base of the stairs. You try to rearrange him to help him up easier.
DAVE: be gentle with me im an old man
DAVE: oof
DAVE: damn i gotta piss like a racehorse
DIRK: You can go in your bathroom.
You heave him up another step for emphasis.
DIRK: Upstairs.
He’s quiet for a bit as he manages to move himself of his own volition for a record-breaking two stairs.
DAVE: hate these stupid fucking parties
DIRK: Then why do you keep throwing them?
Dave sighs dramatically, lilting into you.
DAVE: industry bullshit
DIRK: Sucks, dude.
DAVE: hey why dont you call me bro anymore?
DAVE: arent i still your big bro
You aren’t going to have that conversation like this.
DIRK: Dave, you’re drunk.
DAVE: you can say that again
DAVE: im not three sheets to the wind im clocking in at maybe six or seven sheets this is getting pretty dire
DIRK: I’m impressed you managed to make it through that sentence.
DAVE: i pride myself on my quick tongue
DAVE: even as fucked up as i am i can do some dexterous fucking motions with this thing
DAVE: all sorts of configurations you name it
You raise your eyebrows.
DAVE: yeah ill commit to that one ill take the plunge into a more explicit conversation
DAVE: i give good head
DAVE: even when drunk
Your face is hot. You focus very carefully on placing your foot on the next step. Beneath the clear stair, a hundred assholes mingle.
DIRK: You talk a big game, but I don’t see you pulling any ass at these things.
DAVE: whatre you talking about
DAVE: im goin home with you right now baby
He laughs too loudly into your neck and claps his hand on your chest, warm hand over your heart. It’s genuinely unfair that he does this, and probably proof of how much the universe hates you. Your dick is chubbing up between your thighs and it’s making it kinda difficult to walk, much less lug Dave up the stairs.
DIRK: Ha ha.
Dave turns his face up to look at you, his shades digging into your neck.
DAVE: hey
He leans too much of his weight into you unexpectedly, and you swing sideways, hitting the wall with a thump. From here, you’re looking out over the party. Everyone seemed shitfaced, but they can still fucking see you.
DIRK: Come on.
You haul his arm back around your shoulders and remind yourself that your priority is getting to the second floor instead of capitalizing on Dave-contact. The man himself stumbles along with you.
DAVE: hey
DIRK: Yeah?
DAVE: i love you
Only your desperation to get out of the eyeline of every celebrity currently in town keeps you from freezing in place.
DIRK: Uh.
DAVE: i know i dont say it enough but you gotta know that right
DAVE: like youre my brother
DAVE: i love you
The staircase finally runs its course and you shove your way into Dave’s bedroom. He hangs off of you as you close the door behind you and blot the worst of the noise.
DAVE: dirk?
You look down at him. It's kinda pathetic, seeing this guy in his late thirties so wasted. His hair is thinning at his temples, and his forehead is shiny with sweat. The top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, his pits are dark. He’s still swaying on his feet and he’s drooling a little. His shades reflect your own flushed face.
You want to rail him until he sobs.
DIRK: I love you too, bro.
He sways further, his arms circle your neck. He’s taller than you but he’s slumped so far that he’s craning his neck to see you. You’re completely overwhelmed by his presence and scent and heat.
DAVE: you wont
DAVE: you wont leave me
DAVE: right?
DIRK: Of course not.
Dave’s clinginess is nothing new, but his methods of interrogation certainly are. Not that your dick is complaining. At least you can't get caught out by a visible bulge. This is tested when Dave slots his thigh neatly between yours in his next pitch into you.
You can’t help it; you hump his leg.
He rolls his hips in response.
So you really can’t be blamed for grabbing him like you’re saving him from a landslide and laying one on him. Given that he immediately sticks his tongue in your mouth it was definitely the right move.
He tastes like shitty beer and pretzels and appletinis and vodka shots. He’s warm and solid and loving against you. He smells like home. You feel yourself slowly go boneless like a romance heroine as you grip each other tighter and his tongue checks the place out.
When you break apart, a string of drool connects your mouths. Your brain feels like it’s being boiled. You need Dave to fuck you as soon as possible. You have no idea what to say that isn't a quip.
DIRK: I grade your tongue game overenthusiastic, but reasonably intelligible.
DAVE: your dick wouldnt say its overly enthusiastic
Holy fucking shit. How did you luck into this?
DIRK: Try me.
Dave removes your shades; you blink at him and he grins. You lose track of them when he kisses you again. This time it's not a point to prove, but a slow movement of lips and tongue that erodes your inner sense of balance. You slump forward into him. At this point, you're just glad you aren’t shivering.
Dave manhandles you to his bed, drunken motions rougher than intended. It makes you harder. You flop backwards onto his duvet and strip off your shirt. He joins you, faceplanting into the mattress before propping himself up on an elbow.
DAVE: dude you look really good
He lays a hand on your chest, rubs a thumb along the scar under your pectorals.
DAVE: haha like im a little jealous
You flush a little, unsure how to react. You are not going to say anything to ruin this.
DAVE: can you feel these
He moves his thumb to your left nipple and your resulting jolt answers for you.
DIRK: Just that one.
DAVE: one more than i got
He kisses both nipples open-mouthed as he rearranges your bodies to get at your pants. He tugs your joggers off, then starts peeling down your boxers. You can feel the cotton clinging to your wet cunt; someone could do laps down there. You’re hit with a wave of your own musky smell and it just makes you feel more desperate. He clumsily maneuvers himself between your legs.
DAVE: holy shit look at your dick its so cute
Before you can ask him to explain what the fuck that means, he takes it into his mouth and gently sucks, tongue soft against its underside and resting tantalizingly close to your hole. Then he releases you to explore your inner thighs for a bit.
DAVE: to be honest its not that much smaller than mine
DAVE: but you still got a bit to go junior
DIRK: Are you—ah—negging me?
DAVE: i dont think so
DAVE: that would be pretty immature
He sucks at you before you can respond, rendering that point moot.
DIRK: Ahh!
DIRK: Fuck, Bro...
He shudders between your thighs, slurps your cock desperately. He squeezes at your leg with one hand. You can’t believe that he wants to be called “Bro” in bed.
DIRK: Bro.
He raises his head. You reach down to take off his shades and drop them somewhere. His eyes are bloodshot but focused. His face is flushed. He’s looking at you like...
DIRK: Bro...
DAVE: yeah dirk?
He’s resting his head against your thigh and you can feel his jaw move as he speaks. His breath puffs hot against your dick. You pet his hair off his sweaty forehead.
DIRK: Did you have to go to the bathroom?
DAVE: fuck that
DIRK: Then what are you waiting for?
DIRK: I thought you were getting me off.
He smirks at you like he does before any of his stupid competitions. He doesn’t even bother with a witty retort, just starts licking and slurping at your pussy like he’s only got a few minutes before it melts. You fist your hand in his hair.
DIRK: Ahh...
DAVE: mm
To what must be no one’s surprise, you don’t get laid a lot, so you don’t have many points of reference. Still, this is probably the best head you’ll ever get. It’s Dave.
DIRK: Dave...
DAVE: mm
DIRK: Ah!
You’re overwhelmed. Your dick is throbbing in his mouth and you’re wet enough to solve the California drought. He’s kneading at your ass and you’re tugging at his scalp.
DIRK: Please—hah—
DAVE: mm?
He pulls off to smile blithely up at you, then kisses the top of your dick. In retaliation, you thump your heel against his back.
DIRK: Finger me.
DAVE: where?
You hate him so much. You kick him again and pull his hair, which doesn’t actually seem to be a punishment.
DIRK: My cunt.
DAVE: okay baby
He kisses the crease of your thigh, licks it, sucks on your dick again and drools down your hole. He trails a finger around your pussy.
DAVE: youre so wet i bet itll be no trouble at all
DIRK: Fuck off.
You’d continue insulting him, but he shoves a finger fully inside you as he slurps at your dick again and you suddenly forget any reason you might be mad.
DIRK: Ah!
DAVE: yeah?
DAVE: you like that bro?
DIRK: You can't shut up even wh—aah!
When he sucks, you clench around his finger. You can feel wetness pulse out of you.
DAVE: hm?
DAVE: what was that?
You kick him again. He grins at you from between your thighs.
DAVE: you are so cute
Then he goes to fucking town on your dick and cunt, quickly sliding a second finger alongside the first. He sucks at your dick and doesn't stop except to say stupid endearments.
DAVE: so so perfect
He doesn’t respond to your helpful tugs at his head towards your cock.
DAVE: my sweet boy
DAVE: i love you bro
DIRK: Ah!
He bites at your thighs. You mindlessly kick at his back. He loves you, he wants you, he wants to call you his bro while he fucks you. He’s still pretty drunk. Fuck him, you love him. His fingers are grinding into you. You love him.
DIRK: I love you.
He sucks you off, hard and sloppy, ruthlessly fingerfucking you until you squirt on his face. It’s the hottest thing that's ever happened to you.
DAVE: holy shit did you squirt on my face
DIRK: Sure seems like it.
DAVE: thats so fucking hot
DAVE: i mean i wouldnt be mad if you peed though
DIRK: I’ll keep that in mind.
He climbs up to slump on top of you, his clothes scratchy against your sweaty and oversensitive skin. He kisses you, and this time you beat the tongue real estate rush. Under his weight you melt into the mattress. You lick your taste out of his mouth until it’s just spit. He rubs his wet face on yours.
You kiss yourself sleepy, cum-tired, lazy-tongued. You cling tiredly to your big brother’s back and rut against him when he grinds his hips down. His disgustingly expensive designer jeans scrape against your tender dick and pick up a gallon of cum on the way.
DIRK: Ah, Bro...
Dave keeps grinding against you, languidly gathering speed. He sucks on your neck, bites it.
DIRK: D’you want me to get you off?
DAVE: baby youre so good to me
He doesn’t change his present course, so you take the initiative to reach between your stomachs and start undoing his pants. He squirms away from the press of your hand into his stomach, dropping heavily next to you, then kicks off his shoes and wiggles out of his pants with minimal trouble.
You start in on his shirt buttons, but get distracted by his cock. It’s flushed and swollen, peeking out from his pubic hair. Fuck, it probably is a centimeter or so larger than yours.
DAVE: like what you see?
DIRK: I think that’s pretty obvious.
You haven’t fucked another trans guy before, but you’ve done your fair share of masturbation and you’re a quick study. It’s not like it’s hard to suck on his dick like you’ll die without it, to lap up any wetness that trickles out of him.
DAVE: ah
DIRK: You taste so good.
He’s ambrosia. He’s heaven. He’s perfect. Dave rests a slow, heavy hand on your head and humps up into your mouth. His movements are clumsy and belated. He keeps a running commentary.
DAVE: dirk
DAVE: dirk dirk
DAVE: so good
DAVE: ah
DAVE: so perfect baby so good bro
DIRK: Can I finger you?
DAVE: yes oh my god
He’s not very wet—you reassure yourself that he’s been on T for over a decade and it isn’t an insult. Instead, you work up a good amount of drool as you slobber on his dick, and let your spit slide down his pussy.
DAVE: ahh dirk
You rub a finger around his entrance, dip it inside.
DAVE: fuck dirk
DAVE: cmon baby
When you work your finger in all the way, he clenches his thighs around your head and his hands in your hair, pulling you in. You can’t deny him; you suck harder.
DAVE: ah good boy
DAVE: dirk im
DAVE: ah
DAVE: uh
You can’t stop. You’re surrounded by his taste, his scent, his heat, his voice. You were created to give him head.
DAVE: dirk
DAVE: wait im
You piston your finger into him, you suck at his cock, and he comes. He also pees all over your face.
DAVE: fuck!
In for a penny, in for a pound, you figure. It doesn’t taste bad enough for you to stop sucking him through it and rubbing at his insides.
DAVE: fuck dirk im so—
His cunt squelches as you keep fucking your finger into him. Piss is soaking into the sheets under your bare chest. It wipes out the existence of other aromas. Your face is drenched. With your free hand, you press slowly down against his bladder. You don’t stop sucking.
DAVE: fuck!!
He comes again, constricting your finger. Urine spurts over your face, then slows to a weak trickle. This time you’re ready for it; you grind against the sheets as you continue to gently suck at his cock. You don’t stop until he pulls your head away.
You finally allow yourself to look up at Dave from between his legs, piss and cum dripping from your lips, nose stinging. His eyes are wet. He's panting.
DAVE: i was gonna say sorry for peeing but i think you liked that
DIRK: It wasn’t too bad.
You proceed to rub your face all over his abdomen in revenge, discreetly adding in a couple of extra tummy nuzzles.
DAVE: noo baby i take it back im sorry
DAVE: it is kinda funny tho cmon
DAVE: on the stairs i told you i had to pee
DAVE: warned you dog
You make your way up to his face and kiss him on the mouth. He kisses back happily and holds your cheeks in his slightly sticky hands, but you can tell he’s starting to drift off.
You’re suddenly convinced that tonight exists in a bubble, that as soon as one of you goes to sleep the tension will break and the moment will be lost. That you've built a barrier of alcohol and innuendo and plausible deniability and piss around yourselves that no emotions can escape. That this is your only chance to be like this, and tomorrow he’ll be weird and distant again. Subdued party noises drift in from under the door.
DIRK: I love you.
He tightens his arms around you.
DAVE: i love you so much baby
DAVE: i love you dirk
You’re going to overheat; you deflect.
DIRK: So have you done pissplay before?
DAVE: haha well just a little
DAVE: i should probably tell you in advance
He cranes his neck to whisper right into your ear, only slightly slurring.
DAVE: im a huge slut
DIRK: I know.
It comes out meaner than you meant it to.
DAVE: dont be like that baby you know i love you most
You don't know how to respond to that. He squints up at you.
DAVE: hey i think i owe you an orgasm
DAVE: wanna sit on my face
You think that if you can’t see his face he’ll cease to exist.
DIRK: As much as I hate to say no, I’m genuinely worried that in this condition you’d suffocate.
DAVE: hmm you may be onto something there
DAVE: always looking out for me
He kisses your cheek, then your mouth. You try not to tremble and fail spectacularly.
He jacks you off, squeezing and tugging at your dick with clumsy fingers. You come, shaking, with your head tucked into his neck. Your leg is touching the now-cold expanse of wet sheet.
DAVE: mm
DAVE: goodnight dirk
He licks your face in lieu of a kiss, and immediately passes out.
For over an hour you remain anchored to his chest, wet and shivering, before silently climbing out of bed to shower.