Chapter Text
John usually never stays late at parties like this - the thought of sleeping in a building with a ton of other drunk people always felt so weird to him. But he'd had a little too much tonight, and it was late enough that there wouldn't be an easy way home. It was too much effort to find where he'd left his phone, so he bites the bullet and stumbles around until he can find an unlocked door. There's someone already using this room, though, and he looks dead drunk. He almost slips back out until he takes a closer look at the man spread out on the bed, and for some reason, he decides to stay.
He's drunk enough to be tempted but sober enough to know that it's a bad idea, so he pulls the door closed and locks it so no one else can find out what he wants to do. John bites his lip and silently (or so he assumes - the stranger(or maybe not; he does look familiar) on the bed was probably too out cold to notice anyway) strides over. "Hey. You awake?" He tests the limits, calling out to the man before stroking a hand up the back of his knee, watching his face for a reaction.
Dirk was not, and had never been, a party person. He could have fun, if he tried. But there was something about the concept of a room full of drunk and increasingly unruly strangers that made his skin crawl with unease. When he was sober, at least. Alcohol was great at taking the edge off of his social anxiety, and maybe even enticing him into a game of beer pong or two. Tonight, Dirk found himself much, much drunker than he typically allowed himself to get, following an unfortunate and embarrassing mix up between Absolut and Everclear. While the host of this party might not have believed it, labels were awfully fucking important when it came to clear alcohol.
Once he'd stumbled ass-backward past his light-weighted and gracefully ignored limit, the fun was puttering out. His limbs felt heavy, bones like iron in his skin. He found himself fumbling clumsily into a guest bedroom, not having the motivation or the forethought to strip down before throwing himself heavily into the unoccupied bed, and passing the fuck out.
When John entered the room, Dirk was splayed out on his side, his shirt hiked up a bit to expose a patch of bare skin above his hip. He didn't stir when he was touched so carefully, sleeping like the dead and smelling strongly of alcohol.
John's just sober enough to be jumpy right after the first touch, skittering back just a moment so if he did wake up, he wouldn't be awkwardly close. But the other man is completely out of it, and John slowly moves closer again. He sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his hand across his stomach over that strip of exposed skin, staring down over his shoulder at the other man's mouth. Now that he's closer, he thinks he can recognize him; John had never been that close to Dirk, but he'd at least heard enough about him from Dave, and had seen him around. After adjusting his position a bit, he runs his thumb over Dirk's lower lip.
Dirk's lips part slightly at the disturbance, but he's otherwise still. The soft rise and fall of his chest, puffs of breath against John's hand, are really the only things that give away the fact that he's not as dead as he looks. And also, apparently, the appearance of his tongue. He subconsciously takes John's thumb into his mouth, as if on instinct. If he were awake he'd likely be cursing his oral fixation, but fortunately he was not, and simply held the intrusion between his lips, the tongue pressing softly to the pad of his thumb.
"Nice." John keeps his voice low, but doesn't care much about the volume, talking as though he were holding a casual conversation. No one could hear him outside the room, and even if Dirk registered the sound of a voice, he hopes it'd probably just seem to be in his dreams anyway.
John smiles, happy with this little instinct of the other man's, and takes a moment to prod at Dirk's front teeth. He pushes against his tongue, rubbing it and considering pulling his jaw down, but figures there are more fun things he can do. He stands again and checks his pockets - shit, must have left his phone out in the kitchen, too late now - before sitting close so he can stroke his fingers over Dirk's inner thigh. "Can you hear me?"
Dirk's response wasn't immediate, if it could be considered a response at all. He lets out a soft mumble; whatever he was trying to say in his sleep coming out like an entirely incoherent string of consonants, his expression peaceful. Seems like John's words were nestling into his dreams just as predicted, rather than rousing him. He breathes out a sigh through his parted lips, turning his face further into the pillows, his hips shifting and thigh inadvertently pressing closer to John's touch.
"Yeah. Nice." This guy sure was receptive. John felt like a huge pervert - which honestly made it even more enjoyable to his alcohol-clouded mind - as he leans over to slip his hand up under the fabric of Dirk's shirt, pinching a nipple. Now that he's more confident that this guy wasn't about to wake up for at least a while, he pulls his legs further apart and climbs up between them. Hopefully, he wasn't one of those drunks that couldn't get it up.
John settles himself and continues to stroke his palms over Dirk's thighs, thumbs pressing a little more forcefully into the muscle before he cups over the crotch of his pants. "How's that, dude?" It's kind of nice being able to say whatever he wanted without repercussion. "You gonna get nice and hard for me?"
Dirk was pliant as John rolled him to spread his legs, settling on his back with a hand loosely curled next to his head. Typically, he was a light sleeper - which might have been why John's touches were embedding themselves so easily into his soon-to-be wet dream, the alcohol keeping him drowsy and sated enough not to wake just yet. It would take a lot to pull his consciousness from the syrupy molasses of drunk slumber.
His breath hitched just slightly as John pinched his nipple, but his face stayed just as peaceful as ever. At the firmer touch to his thighs, bridging closer between his legs, Dirk's body was more stimulated. His dick twitched with interest under John's fondling hand.
John nods as though obviously that was the only option. "You're definitely on a hair-trigger, huh dude? I can respect that." He shifts his weight on the bed, adjusting the front of his jeans as they also started to feel a little tight. His free hand slips up under Dirk's ass from between his thighs, and he holds his thumb up so it presses between his cheeks, or as well as it can with the fabric in the way. He moves it in little circles for a moment as he rubs over that heat pooling around Dirk's dick. "What'm I gonna do with you, huh? I have so many options..." John bites his lower lip and glances at the door, and he wishes again that he had his phone, until he gets the idea to root around and see if he can find Dirk's. He keeps the hand on Dirk's groin because that's the part he's most concerned with at the moment - he could play with his ass at any time.
Dirk's phone was in his back pocket, blinking with missed notifications - responses to a few less than fortunate drunk texts that he'd definitely regret in the morning. His thighs instinctively start to press together when John's thumb presses against his ass, fabric or no. Though, his legs end up meeting the resistance of... well, John's whole body, really, so they end up settling uselessly back down to the bed. Dirk wasn't hard yet, but the warmth of John's hand definitely had some stirrings going on down below.
In his dream, the mysterious stranger with a hand on his dick says something akin to What am I gonna do with you? and Dirk responds with something akin to Fuck me, probably. So, it wasn't too difficult for him to sport a half chub at this point, a semi-hard line under John's hand.
John snickers at the reaction, feeling a little smug at how easy he could get this guy's motor revving. He palms over Dirk's pockets and finds the phone relatively quickly, and he climbs - clumsy himself because he's pretty buzzed - away from him to stand beside the bed as he carefully pulls it from his pocket.
He leans to press their lips together, humming quietly until their front teeth clack together. John pulls back with a wince, licking his lips, because if anything could wake someone up, it'd be too much of that. Curse his buck teeth. Hopefully this nerd didn't lock his phone; he clicks the home button to find out as he, still standing, rubs his palm over the growing bulge of Dirk's dick through his pants. He swipes the messages away aimlessly, not interested in being a nosy bitch.
Dirk, unsurprisingly, does not kiss back. His brows furrow just slightly at the clack of his teeth, turning his head away from the unpleasant sensation and letting out another small wordless murmur. His dick strains against his too-tight jeans, and he shifts his hips a bit, but otherwise makes no movement to adjust himself as John touches him.
In John's hand, Dirk's phone wasn't locked because he saw no reason to lock it - he encrypted any particularly sensitive data himself, so there wasn't much to steal. The phone essentially soft-bricked itself upon incorrect facial recognition anyway. Luckily for John, it was dark enough in the room for that not to be possible.
"Damn, dude, you're way too trusting." John smirks, blissfully unaware of the failsafe he's navigated, and after some navigation he manages to find the contacts. He taps his own number into the list, thinking for just a moment if his phone displays pictures or not when it receives them as a message. He's fairly sure it just says something along the lines of '##### sent 23hj3434.jpg' so there shouldn't be anything incriminating if someone else manages to find his phone before he can get to it. Besides, he locks his phone like any normal paranoid individual. John notices the shifting hips and remembers the wince after their kiss, so he removes his hand from Dirk's dick. He's not ready for him to wake up yet.
But just in case, he pulls up the camera function and snaps a tasteful shot of an unconscious drunk man with a tent in his pants, sending it to himself. He wonders momentarily if he should like... Delete these right away, or save his name in Dirk's phone to see what might come of it. Very quickly, he enters himself as 'John the hunk <3' in the contacts. And if he decided to leave it there, he had a great idea of the picture to use for his contact listing in Dirk's phone, considering his beau didn't wake up early.
Dirk stirs a bit more when John's hand leaves him, rolling over onto his side obliviously. Without the touch, his dick is pressing uncomfortably to his zipper with absolutely no payoff, and both his dream self and his unconscious body are both very much not into that. He slips his hand into his pants to adjust himself to a more comfortable position, or as comfortable as it can be when he lacks the dexterity to unzip the jeans. His hand finds comfort there, fingers tucked snugly under the pressure of his waistband, and settles comfortably back into his deep sleep.
John looks over the picture he took with a little smile, glancing up only when Dirk rolls over. "Whoa, hey man." He tucks the phone in his pocket and climbs back onto the bed, smiling a little more when he spies the man touching himself. He gently coaxes Dirk onto his back once more, little by little, then kneels between his thighs again.
He bends to press a little kiss on the front of Dirk's pants, then works at undoing them. "I'm not done yet... Have a little patience, dude. I'll get you there." Once he has the pants undone, he pushes Dirk's hand up onto his belly so he can slip his own hand through the opening in the man's underwear, fingers stroking over hot skin.
Dirk is still a bona fide ragdoll when John rolls him onto his back again. He sighs contentedly when he feels the touch between his legs, his head rolling to nuzzle into the pillow. The words seep into his mind, contributing to his current fantasy, fuzzy floating images of his legs wrapped around a pair of hips, fingers curling into broad shoulders as he was touched. His fingers twitch as if to mimic the hold he dug into phantom skin, and lets out another mumble, hard as ever under John's exploring fingers.
He can't help but think about how cute Dirk is, even as he fondles him through his underwear. John kind of hopes maybe after he sobers up and decides what to do about the pictures that he and Dirk could try something. But it's a distant thought in his mind as he pulls the man out of the fabric and grins. His fingers curl around the base of Dirk's cock, squeezing as he shifts to lay between his thighs, and once he's in a pleasant enough position, he whips the other man's phone out of his pocket and brings up the camera app once more.
He switches the camera so he can see himself, then takes a few tries to get the angle he wants. Soon enough, John presses his lips to the base of his dick and, with a smile that dimples his cheeks, snaps a shot of him lovingly kissing the sleeping man, his dick laying up along the side of his face. He sends it to his phone, then sets it as his contact image with his pulse pounding in his chest. He should absolutely delete all the evidence of this happening... but damn. That was a good picture.
It was an awfully ballsy move, and if Dirk was conscious enough, he might have verbally appreciated the moxie on John. Though, while he wasn't conscious enough to appreciate him verbally, he could physically, through the typical haze of sleep. He shifted at the warm press of John's lips to the base of his cock and the ring of his fingers holding him in place. He didn't make a noise, but something in his expression changed, the slight furrow in his brow softening, lips parting just a fraction.
John's a little too lost in the sauce to take in any changes in Dirk's expression because now that he's had his mouth on the man he kind of can't focus on anything else. He places the phone beside him, ready for any more impromptu photo ops, before returning his attention to Dirk's dick.
He peppers it with chaste little kisses, sure to push his lips out far enough that they're soft and pliant, and one of his hands slips back under to press at his ass, thumb rubbing over his pants to try and find his hole through the layers of clothes. He swipes his tongue over the underside, then curls it around the tip before taking him into his mouth with a quiet groan. John bobs his head slowly before taking another picture, tilting his head so his cock pokes out against his cheek, making it bulge in an obscene, unmistakable way. He winks at the camera.
Dirk lets out a genuine moan as John works him over with his mouth, his voice breathy and soft. His cock twitched when John's lips and tongue sunk over the head, the fingers resting on his stomach twitching again. In his dream, his hand was tangled in the mystery bara dude's hair as he was blown, pressed up against some solid surface with two fingers up his ass. He hadn't had a dream that felt this vivid in a long time, and he was living for it. He says something in his fantasy that was sufficiently smug and domineering, no doubt, but the translation that John hears is the embarrassingly bishie little moan he'd let out before.
He goes to town on the dick like he never has before, having never actually fucked around with anyone while being any level of intoxicated - the lack of inhibition is nice, and John slurps over his skin lewdly, ears perking at the little moan. He pops off and wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist, smirking. "Cute."
John quickly undoes his own pants, shoving them and his briefs down his hips impatiently so he can touch himself just for a moment, before pulling Dirk's thighs back together. He awkwardly moves to sit on his lap (it was difficult to move with his pants holding his legs together) and allows his heavy dick to slap down against Dirk's belly as he once more grabs the phone, setting the camera to forward-facing. He takes a shot of him rubbing his cockhead over Dirk's belly, leaving a trail of pre, before sitting lower and taking them both in one of his hands, getting ballsy enough to take a ten-second video of him slowly, teasingly stroking them together, paying special attention to Dirk. After that, he's hit his limit for good ideas - and he's not the type of guy to stick his dick in a sleeping near-stranger's body or mouth without consent (he might be fucked up but he has SOME morals) so he closes the message, clicks off the screen, and stuffs the phone back in Dirk's pocket as his hand speeds up.
When John climbs on top, Dirk's expression changes again, the face of relaxation fading. Maybe he was lamenting the loss of a warm mouth on his dick, but more likely, he was just starting to teeter on the edge of conscious and unconscious. His brows knit, fingers curling as he mentally drags his hands down his dream boy's back. At some point they'd shifted, Dirk's back still pressed against that ever-present surface as the guy straddled his lap. It was a strange thing to stand out so well in his mind, the feeling heavy and solid as it complemented the lovely friction on his cock. Very strange. The solid surface behind him felt a lot softer, like he was sinking into comfy pillows rather than an unyielding brick wall. And there was this weird... pressure on his thighs, like his mystery guy was straddling him awkwardly with a pair of pants still on. Huh.
Dirk opens his eyes blearily, panting softly at the very real friction on his cock. Some wet dream. "Th' fuck?"
It takes another few moments for John to get situated in a way that he isn't worried about losing his balance thanks to being tangled from the mid-thigh and down and also being not fully sober, but once he gets there, close enough to Dirk that their dicks are almost fully pressed together - if he were sober and this was a regularly occurring thing, he might try to compare lengths like the fucking chad he can playfully be sometimes - his head tilts back and he grinds his hips down on the other man in ecstasy.
Scenarios run through his mind; fingers spreading Dirk open, or rubbing his dick over the other man's lips, or resting his ankles on his shoulders as Dirk pounds into him (he's versatile in his desires and doesn't really get hung up on things like one person always doing one thing) and it's enough that he doesn't realize Dirk's stirring beneath him until he hears his voice. His body tenses for just a moment, but he's come this far, so John fully prepares for a fist to his face, but by god he's gonna get off either way, so he just tightens his grip and looks down at him. "Hey, man."
Dirk hisses as John tightens his grip, but surprisingly makes no move to introduce his knuckles to John's jaw. He was still panting softly, his eyes lidded as he slowly, lazily, comprehends the situation on top of him. Seems like his dream boy was in bed with him all along. And fuck, was he a sight for drunk eyes. "Did you, ah- miss the memo about conscious consent? You somnophilic bastard." Dirk constructs the sentence pretty well for someone as drunk, hard, and sleepy as he currently is, but the slur is heavy, and his hands are desperate as they grip John's thighs. He was, maybe, getting off on this a little more now. But he'd leave that particular brand of sexual discovery in the back of his mind for later. As if he could think about it now. His next words ring clear as a bell. "Don't stop. Feels good."
John isn't even aware of the tense line of his shoulders until Dirk makes it clear he isn't about to freak out or throw hands, and he can actually relax. He smiles down at the man, eyebrows jumping up with a quiet laugh. "Sorry man, uh. I may be a li'l drunk and you looked real good." He rocks his hips forward a little more insistently. "I didn't... do anything invasive or whatever. Just some touching." He licks his lips, then groans happily at the hands on his thighs. "Fuck yeah... real good."
He falls forward, bracing a hand on the bed just above Dirk's shoulder. His glasses slip further down his nose, but his eyes are closed now and he doesn't care, bucking down into his hand and pressing his dick more roughly against Dirk's belly. His hand continues to stroke the other man, but he's mainly just squeezing his thumb over himself, using it as something tight that he can imagine as Dirk's body.
Dirk felt himself twitch at John's words - at the thought of him sneaking in here to feel him up while he was asleep and vulnerable. Yeah, it was pretty fucking creepy. But shit, his dick sure did seem to like it, didn't it? He casts the thought aside, bucking his hips eagerly into John's grip. His hands slide up from John's thighs, up his hips, all the way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He could feel hot arousal curling in the pit of his stomach, signaling that his orgasm alarmingly wasn't far off, somehow. He must have been at this for a while. He watches John rock against him, shades having been abandoned at some point during the night so amber eyes could lock directly onto his face. He spoke up, voice breathless and dripping with his lust. "Still pretty invasive, if you... if you ask me. Ah- fuck. I'm fuckin'... I'm close. What the hell did you do to me?"
John groans appreciatively, leaning into his touches and loving how into it he was. "Fuck, man..." His chest heaves, then he pushes it into Dirk's hands, spine arching against him as he alternates grinding his hips and his torso against the other man. His eyes flutter closed again, feeling pretty close himself, and he'd worry about being a quickshot but Dirk's in the same boat, so he doesn't mind that much. Besides. The situation was super kinky.
"Y-yeah... Don't worry, dude. You c'n beat me up later if you want. One free ass-whupping." John laughs breathily. "Or pounding, if that's more your thing-" He cuts himself off with a low moan, feels himself drip more onto Dirk's belly. "Just... some touching and fondlin'... Had you in my mouth a li'l..." The words are broken up by his panting, and he can feel sweat start to slide down the back of his neck. "Just came in to get some sleep, 'n you were already in here. S...sorry. You're like. Super hot, dude."
Dirk doesn't have enough wits about him to properly swallow down his moans, so they slip from his mouth unabashed. His fingers slide up into John's hair, his body tensing as the tight, pleasurable sensation inside of him winds up and up. John's admission of what exactly he'd been up to only pushed him closer to the edge, where he hung deliciously for those last few seconds. In the back of his mind, he reminded himself he'd love to take John up on that offer, in both connotations of said pounding. Maybe it was the alcohol, but jesus fuck, this guy was hot.
John's pre on his stomach mixes with his own as he teeters on the edge, the hot friction and the sensation of John's breath on his face leaving him rambling helplessly. "Nh, you fucking pervert, just... just shut the fuck up and- ah, fuck - and..." Whatever Dirk had planned to say was lost in his orgasm. His heels dug into the mattress with a shaky moan, fingers tightening in John's hair as ropes of white splattered his own stomach, and John's still pumping hand.
He pushes his head into Dirk's hand with a sigh, tilting his face to try and kiss his wrist or arm if he can reach it, before he's distracted by the other man's words. A tiny part inside him prickles with shame at being called a pervert, but the rest of him agrees and even revels in that shame since it turned out okay in the end.
His breathing picks up speed, and John sinks his teeth gently into Dirk's wrist as the other man comes, feeling it slick up his fingers, and John's not long after. He pulls back to keep from giving Dirk any oversensitive discomfort, then beats his hand even faster now that he's just holding himself, the knowledge of why his grasp is so slippery only aiding to how quickly he adds to the mess over Dirk's belly. John is at least thankful he doesn't do anything embarrassing like shout - they weren't exactly out of earshot - but he does whine and twitch, slumping forward with his head on Dirk's shoulder. "Fuck... god." He's bleary-eyed and exhausted, but awake enough to palm around Dirk's waist to find his phone again with his clean hand. "Hold up, man... just gotta take care of something..."
Dirk watches lazily as he finishes himself off, letting out a soft noise when he felt the warmth of John's release spilling onto his stomach, taking a carnal sort of pleasure out of the gesture. It was quite a sight, and if he hadn't literally just came, that would have done it all over again for him. He was panting softly, fingers loosening their grip on John's hair to cradle the back of his neck, eyes fluttering in post-orgasmic drowsiness.
At least, until John starts fumbling around to try and grab his phone out of his pocket. Probably to add his number, like any good hook up would. Dirk was capable of getting it out himself, but he didn't argue much, feeling boneless under the weight of his inebriation and the tingly aftershocks of some real good frotting. So his words were empty when he murmured: "Don't get jizz on my screen."
He moves the back of his head against Dirk's hand, mimicking a petting motion as the only way he could show affection with one hand busy and one hand filthy. "Nah man..." The words are more slurred than before as sleep starts to tug on his consciousness. "I ain't nasty." He honks out a laugh, not really sure why that statement amused him so much, before thumbing open the messages he sent to himself.
He takes a final picture, both their spent dicks and the cum spattered over Dirk's skin, and sends it with a sloppily attempted message telling him to 'call me ;)' before closing it down once more and laying fully over his partner so he can drop it on the end table. John can feel the spend soaking into his shirt and he winces, rolls onto his side, and clumsily tries to pull his pants up. "Gonna pass out."
Dirk blinks. Did John just. Take a picture of their dicks? 'Ain't nasty' his ass. Interesting choice for a contact picture, but fuck, he could roll with it. It would be a nice reminder for after he inevitably fucking blacks this whole night out, given his current blood alcohol content.
He feels a little icky from the remnants of cum on his bare skin, but luckily John's ill-timed collapse on top of him had taken care of a good bit of it. He was too tired to deal with it anyway, just shucking his shirt down and lazily tucking his dick away. He might normally have had a quip or two for John's horrendous aftercare treatment, maybe a word analogy or two to a loveless marriage or a shoddy prom night hook up. But, again. Tired. He mumbles something in acknowledgment, turning over once John was off of him to snuggle back into the warm pillows he'd very recently been snoozing on. "Yeah, yeah. If you wanna round two, be more gentle. 'M fuckin' tired."
It takes an embarrassing amount of effort to get his pants up and fastened, and John doesn't even bother with the zipper at that point, the exertion causing him to breathe heavily as though he just sprinted down a hallway. He's tired and sated and super pleased with himself for having such a good idea and executing it so well, and now he wants nothing more than to sleep.
But Round Two sounds supremely tempting, and his cock twitches weakly in interest behind his briefs. But, no. John was way too tired to go again tonight; hell, he was tired before it even started. So he pushes himself up with a grunt and clumsily climbs back over Dirk toward the edge of the bed, only stopping to press a wet smooch to his cheek before standing. "Shit, man. Maybe next time."
He stumbles to his feet and over to the door, knowing if he stuck around he'd definitely try to go again and it'd be just really disappointing for the two of them. It takes him a moment to remember how to unlock the door, then he's a gentleman enough to re-lock it before leaving the room and wandering down the hall to find an empty place to sleep. He doesn't even care that the front of his shirt and his hand are both sticky with drying jizz, or that his fly is still down, because everyone else on this floor was also a combination of drunk and/or tired and probably wouldn't notice.
Dirk makes a displeased noise when John crawls over him, swatting at him futilely when he presses the sloppy kiss to his cheek. He didn't have it in him to be disappointed at the rejection of a round two, he was way too drained, and mostly kidding, anyway. Mostly.
The awkward dismount of John over him to the floor had him a little more awake though, and that allowed him to at least kick off his hipstery skinny jeans before settling back in to sleep. He watched John leave and curled up under the covers, the tingle of his orgasm having faded, instead replaced with that of contentment from a good lay, cuddles or no. He still sort of wishes he didn't have traces of cum drying on his abdomen, though. He falls asleep with little to no circumstance, just as before- but this time, his dreams were the just normal concoction of nonsense and cloudiness, no bara dream boy in sight.
He doesn't make it to a new bed. John wakes up, eyes practically glued together and his head... not pounding, but there's definitely a throb of pain at every distant loud noise hinting to his dehydration. He groans and feels absolutely disgusting - alcohol sweats always made his skin feel somehow both starchy and greasy at the same time - and realizes he's just slumped against a wall, out in the hallway, with three other unlucky fuckers sprawled out over the floor.
There's something making his shirt cling to his belly, and his zipper's undone, and everything feels about as typical as waking up after a party should feel. Or at least close enough to the handful of times it's happened. John drags himself to his feet, stumbling down and checking his pockets - keys and phone both missing. Keys should be downstairs in the bowl, but it takes some wandering around to find his phone. Battery dead, with an attempt at plugging it into an outlet in the kitchen. He sighs and takes it with him, rooting out his keys as he scratches the front of his belly, scowling at the familiar dried mess that flakes off.
It doesn't actually register until he's sitting in his car, and the memories come flooding back. He's wide awake now, and he pulls out his phone to stare down into the black screen, kind of terrified of what he might find after he plugs it in. (But also weirdly, sickeningly excited.) He decides to get back to his apartment before checking.
It's still somehow surprising when he pulls up that first picture of an unconscious Dirk with a boner.
When Dirk wakes up, he feels heavy, filthy, and gross. His tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth, his stomach churning in that telltale way it always did when Dirk pushed himself too far. He had enough sense to throw himself out of bed, sprinting to the door that he really fucking hoped attached to an en suite and not a closet. He was in luck, this time. It'd be in pretty bad taste for whoever owned this house to have to play a riveting game of 'find the barf'.
He was in luck, and managed to heave his guts into an actual toilet instead of on a carpet. He sunk to his knees on the cool tile until he felt like he could move without spurring a brand new wave of nausea, and let out a deep, shuddering groan. Fuck, his head hurt. What the hell did he do last night? The last thing he remembered was standing in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. And then, nothing but fuzzy afterthoughts. Some beer pong, maybe? At least he somehow ended up in a bed.
Dirk peeled himself off the floor and got to his feet, giving himself a once over in the mirror. He looked like shit, and he needed a fucking shower, like, yesterday. He pads back out to the bedroom, shucking on his pants and pocketing his phone, slipping triangular shades onto his face that he'd surely thank himself for once he stepped into the sunlight. He unlocks the door (some excellent foresight that drunk him apparently had) and steps out once he was decent. This house still smelled so strongly of booze that it made his stomach give another threatening lurch. Yeah, getting the fuck out of dodge was his first priority. Car. Home. Shower. Regret. He makes a beeline for the front door, stepping over some still passed out bodies as he goes, and fishes his keys from the bowl next to the door.
He rubs at his temples once he was in his car, the sun high in the sky. It had to be noon, at least, and this day was pretty much lost to the hangover. Dirk wakes up his phone to confirm his fate, the battery critically low, but somehow the time wasn't the first thing he saw.
Instead, it's a snapshot of his stomach, splattered with cum and accompanied by a dick that was very much not his. The next thing he sees is the cutesy little call me ;) underneath. Dirk mentally short circuits.
Fuck. What?
It takes him much longer to look at the rest of the images. John paces around his apartment, rubbing his face and stroking fingers through his hair, and even as the memories returned to him, he still couldn't believe he did something like that. He might be on the verge of a panic attack. With each new picture he looks at, more of the night comes back, and by the end of the list he was humiliated and hard and trying to decide if he felt better or worse that Dirk woke up and seemed into it.
... Fuck, why didn't he delete the pictures off his phone! What a dumb mistake... but at least this way he didn't feel as much guilt as he would have if there wasn't any evidence.
Several times throughout the day and the next, John picks up his phone, considers texting, calling, anything to apologize, but he's also kind of holding out hope that maybe Dirk hadn't found them yet. I mean, who regularly goes through their camera roll, right?
Unfortunately for John, Dirk was just neurotic enough to go through practically everything on his phone. Once he found the pictures (The first one in his car that fateful morning, followed quickly by the rest. He'd practically broken into hives at the discovery, and immediately had to know if there were more) he'd done a compulsive check of pretty much everything. Worked himself into a pretty gnarly state of horror, thinking of all the shit John could have seen, and probably did see, on his phone. Those drunk texts to Jake... fuck, he wanted to disappear into the ground enough already.
But that particular level of embarrassment didn't really compare to the sheer magnitude he felt at the sight of all the pictures John had left for him. The... interesting story that they told. The photo of him unconscious gave him an inkling of suspicion, but the theory wasn't solid until he saw the singular video John had left him with.
Based on the mewling (humiliating) little moans he'd been letting out, he didn't sound like he was awake. But John was touching him anyway. And that was... not okay. Fuck, it definitely wasn't okay. It was creepy as hell, and the pictures John sent himself were the icing on top of the cake. Dirk was in some dude's spank bank now, without his consent. Christ, he couldn't even say John was just some dude, he was John fucking Egbert, his brother's best friend. He should be disgusted. Furious.
Keyword, of course, being should. Dirk couldn't get this out of his head, even two nights later. He wasn't entirely sure if it was morbid curiosity or a simple lack of self-preservation that had his fingers hovering over a new text conversation to John. He should tell him to apologize. He should tell him to delete those pictures - or better yet, tell him to come over so he could do it himself, and punch him in the dick for good measure.
Instead, he types: 'Hey.'
It's during one of these moments of contemplation that the message comes through, and John drops his phone in shock. He takes a moment to pick it up, look over the single word, then another ten minutes to wait for anything else. Any insults or threats or... anything. But nothing more comes, and after yet another ten minutes, he finally works up the nerve to reply.
'hey, i'm real sorry man. that was super fucked up!'
John winces and rubs his face again, climbing into bed to have some sense of security before sending the rest of his message.
'i kinda remember giving an offer to kick my ass, if you wanted to cash that in.'
All things considered, he wasn't expecting John Egbert to fondle him in his sleep in the first place. Dirk had only ever met him in passing, but the impression he'd always gotten was that the guy was the token sheltered kid. Super straight edge. Some overprotective parents (just a dad?), most likely. Maybe that was just from the incessantly dorky vibes he let off like a beacon, though.
But the apology? That was something Dirk expected. John had some manners, however ass-backwards and twisted they were. It made him want to kick his ass a little less. Not that he needed to know that.
Dirk leaned back where he sat at his desk, fingers drumming on the surface to subtly portray his unease. While Dirk wasn't as angry as he should have been, he wasn't going to let him off so easy.
'I've been considering it. I hate to rob gold from the wank vault, but I'm gonna need you to delete those pictures. Now.'
It's telling, how much dread he feels at the order. John knows he has every right to ask this, and John has no claim to the images or the video, but that nasty little gremlin inside him wants to hoard the small collection, and even with the majority of his mind saying 'that's a reasonable request and I should absolutely comply', he still... hesitates. Stares at Dirk's message. Bites his lip.
'okay, yeah, you're right i should definitely do that. but what if i just delete the one with your face in it?'
God, he feels even shittier the moment he sends it.
'look, i'm already kind of kicking myself right now, the LAST thing i want to do is show these to anyone so if that's what you're worried about, i promise that unless you tell someone, no one will find out about it.'
It's a faulty argument, but he really doesn't want to delete these.
Dirk blinks at the reply. Sure, he could see the frantic apology coming a mile away. But that one, he definitely wasn't expecting. Who did he think he was, inciting a fucking negotiation over his involuntary nudes? Fuck's sake, maybe John was more of an asshole than he gave him credit for.
Dirk was prepared to type out something along those lines, because he really wasn't appreciating the play of John's inexplicable fuckboy card. Hell, he knew he could even play this smarter, and tip this potential blackmail right on John's head, if he needed to. What would Dave say if he found out his best friend was a greasy palmed pervert? Dirk definitely wouldn't be hearing from Egbert again after that.
However, even with this problem's simple solution in sight, Dirk found himself still stunned by the boldness of the request. Why the hell did he want to keep them so bad? He taps a touch more into his intrepid curiosity. It couldn't hurt to get in this guy's head.
'What are you playing at, Egbert?'
John scowls down at his screen and rolls around on the bed because why was this conversation so difficult? Why would Dirk think he was playing at something, when he thinks he's made himself pretty clear.
'why do i have to be playing at something?'
Well. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?
'you're really hot and i like them. i'm not the kind of jackass to like. leak someone else's nudes, man. just... apparently the kind of jackass that gets handsy with people when i'm drunk.'
You're doing amazing, sweetie. Just keep digging that hole.
'okay. look. alright! can i at least keep the one with my face in it? if anything it's more incriminating for myself, and there's no way to tell it's you.'
He'd also really like to keep the video clip, but that might be a harder bargain to make. And John shouldn't even be bargaining.
'i'll... delete all of them if you tell me to. promise.'
Dirk's fingers had stopped drumming on the wood surface of his desk. He's staring at the screen, too focused on his phone to keep up the movement of his hand. There were a couple of minutes he passed that way, lost in a cyclical motion of thought. John did a creepy thing. That was a fact. John was, apparently, into him. That was also a fact. And Dirk... liked both of those things. That was the real fuckin' hang up in all of this, wasn't it? Something about the thought of John taking advantage of him was tying him mentally up in knots, and scratching a sexual itch he didn't know he'd had. And now, because he was a twisted, lonely fuck, he was obsessed.
It was just the matter of admitting it to himself. After nearly ten minutes, he finally responds.
'Fine. You can keep it.'
'And I will too.'
The silence was horrible, and John considers deleting all of them and sending Dirk a screenshot of his camera roll, and another of their messages to prove it by the end of the ten minutes, unable to handle the lack of a reply. Just as he's hovering his finger over the delete button on the very first image, the messages come through. And... yeah, that makes sense. Definitely came across as a threat, but John was too relieved that Dirk was actually humoring him instead of like. Calling the cops or getting a restraining order or something.
'yeah that's totally fair, i mean you technically could keep them all since they're yours. i definitely don't want the picture getting out obviously but it's totally your call man! you're in control of this situation.'
He hopes that's enough, giving Dirk the control.
'just to make sure, uh. do you mean i can keep all of them or just the one?'
God, he was such a creep.
'also, are you going to beat me up?'
There was another pause, but briefer this time. Despite the vast majority of his common sense begging otherwise, his dick had puppeted his brain long enough for him to make up his mind.
Dirk sighs. God fucking damn his desperate homosexual ass.
'John, listen. What you did was fucked. No arguing that one.'
'Fortunately for you, you did it to a particularly fucked up individual.'
'I'm not going to kick your ass. And I'll let you keep the nudes, on two conditions.'
As if expecting Dirk to tell him no, John goes through the images, trying to commit them to memory during the time it takes him to reply. So it's a surprise when he's offered a deal on actually getting to keep them.
'oh. i mean that's probably not a good thing dude; two fucked up people collaborating can't be healthy for either of us!'
He quickly shoots off a random jokey emoji to break any possible tension from his statement, but John's starting to feel a little apprehensive about his tastes. Still, he feels he owes a hell of a lot to Dirk and he'd do whatever he could to make up for it.
'gotta admit, i'm a little worried right now, but considering i should like. fuck. i don't really want to think about what i deserve right now, so whatever, just name the conditions.'
Maybe they'd be typical young adult level things like 'shave your eyebrows and go out in public' or 'streak through a party' or some dumbass shit that would only be a blow to his ego. But he doesn't really get that sort of vibe from Dirk, so he clutches his phone in both hands, waiting for the axe to fall.
Dirk wishes there was a viable way for him to close his eyes as he typed. He already had his conditions written into the text box before John responded. He deleted them twice, and typed them right back out, both times. Despite his unerring display of confidence, Dirk mentally raked his decisions over the coals a minimum of a hundred times before committing. Acting like he knew everything and didn't give a shit about any of it was incredibly important to him, after all. He didn't want his gross curiosity to freak John out, which he realized was hilariously childish, considering their situation. In this case, that curiosity was the only thing keeping him from telling John to fuck off.
What did he have to lose? He pressed send.
'Don't do that shit again. To anyone, under any fucking circumstance.'
A moment's pause, before pasting his second condition and tapping the final send.
'Come over this Friday night at nine, and show me exactly why the fuck you're so committed to keeping my dick on your phone.'
He's already responding to the first message as soon as he reads the first three words.
'god, no, i kind of feel super disgusting and fucked up; way before you even texted me. i don't think i'm gonna do much drinking anymore.'
He manages a few more guilt rolls over his blankets, burying his face in his pillow before going back to the screen. He has to reread the next line of text several times over, and even then he's still not sure what's going on.
'dude. you don't have to be coy about wanting to stab me or kick me in the balls. i'm flat out offering you the opportunity here.'
Because what else was he supposed to believe from a message like that? Sure, Dirk referenced that he himself was pretty messed up, but surely Strider wasn't inviting him over to fuck around - that'd be insane.
'I'm not being coy. I'm telling you, on no uncertain terms, that I'm not interested in kicking your ass. Sorry if you wanted the family jewels to be a martyr for your guilt.'
Dirk found an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. If he hadn't dated Jake, he wouldn't have thought that anyone could genuinely be so oblivious to an obvious proposition. Maybe Dirk had a type after all. Hm.
He got up from his desk, switching off his lamp and crawling into bed as he types out his next reply.
'You said you think I'm hot. And last time I checked, I wasn't the one to initiate your sloppy drunk tryst. So, I'm also telling you that you should put your money where your mouth is. Preferably while I'm conscious.'
'i would have wanted to kick my ass if i found out what you found out. you can't fault me for having a hard time believing you're not interested in it. and also having a hard time believing apparently you want me to come over and recreate our 'sloppy drunk tryst'. damn, dude, who talks like that. is this secretly rose? god that'd be just my luck, huh. rose, stop trying to set me up with dave's hot brother!'
Is it inappropriate to joke at a time like this? Definitely. But John's going through a bit of a crisis and he needs some humor to see him to the end.
'could you at least like. let me take you out or something first? or is that asking for too much? dating the guy who molested you while you were passed out probably isn't very high on anyone's list. fuck.'
'sorry.'
Dirk inwardly rolled his eyes at John's attempt at nervous humor, endearing as it was. Regrettably, the lack of an answer was only fueling his own nervous energy. What was he doing, even? Now John definitely thought he was a freak. The least he could do was let him down easy, right?
...Fuck, he felt ridiculous right now.
'Alright, casanova. Was that more meaningless rambling, or are you actually interested in taking me out?'
'There's no need to wine and dine. You've already been pretty closely acquainted with my junk. We could probably skip a few chapters in the courtship process.'
Well, his hamfisted attempt at asking him out didn't blow up in his face like he expected, which was certainly a plus. But now John's worried that maybe Dirk just wanted to fuck, so maybe asking for anything more would only increase the creep-factor.
'it might be pretty cool and also i think it's more along the lines of 'whoops i skipped a few chapters in the courtship process without your consent so if you're willing to let me make it up to you i'll double down on the previous steps'. if you're into it.'
Dirk didn't really know John that well. Dave seemed to like him well enough. But was that really enough reinforcement for the shitty, shaky foundation that their relationship had started off on?
He hadn't considered anything more than the sex, admittedly. The furthest he'd thought out this potential scenario was a solid hook up. After that, they'd be on even ground, and this weird love connection could be filed safely away into memory. Maybe for John, going out with him was an easier way to bandage the guilt.
'Congratulations. This has definitely climbed the ranks to become the weirdest fucking way a guy has ever asked me out.'
'Full transparency, man. I'm after your dick, not your heart.'
'But if you're seriously committed to the dating foreplay, I'll bite. Do your worst. Woo me, Egbert. Doki me the fuck up.'
'no, that's cool, honestly surprised you're into that much, to be honest. you're a kinky weirdo, and that's coming from me!'
Another shitty attempt at a joke. John sighs and finally dresses down for bed before trying again.
'i'll see you friday, strider.'
He thinks it's a good sendoff until a few minutes pass and he snatches his phone back into his hands.
'i don't actually know where you are, do you and dave stay together? on second thought, maybe you should just come over here. i wouldn't blame you for not wanting me to know where you live.'
'My sexually deviant streak is much better for you than the alternative.'
Dirk typed his response with his arm around an anime body pillow. The double back from John's rather confident send-off was admittedly sort of cute. That thought left him with the sudden urge to smack himself upside the face.
'Your place it is. Post-date, of course.'
He couldn't believe he was actually playing along with this. He should probably raise his standards off the fucking floor, at some point soon. But this leverage over John's guilty conscience was a power play that Dirk could definitely get behind. There were no malicious intentions, on his end. Teasing him was just a bit of fun that he thinks he's earned.
'Until then, try not to miss me too much.'
'you have a point there! but hold up, are we really doing the date then? i thought we were just going to get weird and then put this whole thing behind us and probably never talk to each other again. not that i want that! but i'm pretty sure i fucked up any chance at like. something decent i guess.'
'We're really doing the date. You dug this grave for yourself, Egbert.'
Admittedly, Dirk wasn't sure about it. He wasn't really the dating type, his history having him somehow stumbling ass-backwards into monogamy with fuck buddies until the novelty wore off. The scenario John presented seemed like a pretty fucking accurate prediction of their future together. The only difference was that John had been the one to bring up a date, and Dirk had every intention of going through with it, if only for the irony.
And, partially, to see John squirm. It was his own personal brand of justice.
'You're taking me out. I expect to be romanced. Then you can fuck me stupid, and pretend I don't exist afterward, if you're into that.'
'okay, uh. i guess i'll pick you up from dave's at nine, friday then. unless you just want to meet up at the place.'
Well fuck. Now John had to decide on a good place for a date for Dirk Strider of all people, who he knew very little about. Would dinner and a movie be cliche enough to be funny, or just boring? Maybe he might like laser tag. It'd be a fun way to get both of them hot and sweaty beforehand, and the competitive nature would probably appeal to him. But he expects to be romanced! And that was definitely just sarcasm but John kind of wants to romance him!!! Now thoroughly unable to fall asleep, John agonizes over the decision, hoping he doesn't fuck this up more than he already has.
'See you then.'
Dirk left his response at that, just enough to let John know that he'd read it. No need to seem too eager. Though, Dirk was feeling a very particular sensation of tingling anticipation. It was probably just the concept of inherently kinky sex that had him excited. He'd have a couple of days to let it simmer, and keep his cool.
Until then, he always had the nudes.