Summary: Dirk gets emotional after two orgasms.
He learns that the hard way.
Overwhelm
Posted: 11/01/2023
Status: Completed
Author's note: Sup I'm back with more trans Dirk porn.
I'm working on a bunch of DirkJake AUs at once and needed a small break (so I wrote porn).
Enjoy.
If you cared to describe sex with Jake, it would usually be “quick and dirty”. A surprise handie in the morning. A quick fuck in the dirt of your shared garden after sparring. A hurried blowjob in a dangerously public place. Most of these, admittedly, are initiated by you because you’ve been horny pretty much 24/7 since you’ve all left the game.
(Everyone had different reactions to the sudden relief of “it’s over, we’re safe”. Some cried, some screamed, some laughed…and your body decided it was time to get horribly horny. Thanks body.)
But, once in a while, Jake will initiate, too. Sometimes as a response to your own ridiculously obvious and frequent arousal, and sometimes because he feels like it. He’ll finger you in a public bathroom, or eat you out on the couch, or lay you atop the dinner table and take you right there, fast and hard like how he knows you love.
Now, it’s not like you don’t also have sex in your bed, because, oh boy, you do, you’ve done things in that bed that would make a conservative grandma clutch her pearls in horror. But, you know, just saying that most of your “canoodling” as Jake would say is done fast and in the heat of the moment. You don’t really test your respective limits in any way (except your sense of shame, which you can confirm is nonexistent in the both of you, good thing you’re gods, or you’d have gotten arrested for public indecency).
So you never really realized the extent of Jake’s endurance, nor your own…let’s say “susceptibility” after a few consecutive rounds. Oh sure, you already noticed how nothing seems to ever tire him out, for sure. And, yeah, you knew you tended to be very cuddly after sex. But you never really thought about how far that went.
Until now, that is.
It’s been over three years now since your win, and it’s currently December, the month of human birthdays. If you didn’t know about the ectobiology and meteor bullshit, you’d think it’s suspicious that so many of you were born in December. Thankfully, you know, and everyone is just rolling with it. For their part, Jake and Jade celebrated their birthday by organizing a picnic, and you all had a grand old time.
(Then you treated him to a nice birthday blowjob in the bushes, and received some highly suspicious glances when you both came back to the main event dirty, disheveled, and giggling.)
You know the Lalondes planned on spending their birthday together, tomorrow. Roxy said it would be “girl time”, while Rose called it “a communion with the unholy and the unexplained”. Most likely Roxy will make her play one of her “retro” party games (which, from Rose’s point of view, would be totally new and borderline futuristic, but that’s timeline shenanigans for you). As for you Striders, it was decided unanimously that you’d just spend your respective birthdays lazing around at home and maybe treating yourself to some terrible food.
Jake had other ideas, though.
So, let’s see : first, you were woken up by kisses all over your face and wandering hands. Then you were forbidden from eating your usual breakfast cereal bar and instead made to sit and admire Jake’s fine behind while he made you an actual breakfast.
(Which, wow? You didn’t even know he could cook. Must have asked Jane to teach him while you weren’t looking.)
Then, when you were done eating his admittedly fantastic breakfast (yep, definitely Jane’s tutoring at work), he carried you bridal-style like in one of the stupid romantic movies he likes to watch with Karkat all the way back to bed. Then he kissed you breathless, removed your pajamas, and went to town on your pussy like a man starved.
And now here you are, one orgasm in and quickly on your way to the second, Jake slowly rocking into you, completely unhurried. You tried to get him to go faster, harder, first by rolling your hips insistently, then by straight-up begging, to no avail. All that earned you is him laying all his weight on you so you can’t move and kissing you every time you open your mouth. He is completely in control of the situation, rolling his hips slowly and gently caressing your chest, stomach, and clit while he peppers sweet kisses all over your face and neck.
It’s so languid and soft, the complete opposite of what you usually do together. You never thought you’d be able to come to this, used to doing it rough even when masturbating, but you do. You feel yourself tense around Jake’s girth, and come with a broken whine of his name. All the while, he keeps moving through your orgasm, gentle but unrelenting, and sings your praises right into your ears. Calls you lovely, enchanting, and so, so good.
Insults and praise get to you in equal measures, there’s just something really sexy to you about being called beautiful and a whore in the same breath, but this time, he’s going all-out on the compliments. It’s almost overwhelming, but you love it.
He lets you come down from your high patiently, his hips continuing their slow roll and thankfully not hitting your g-spot directly, or you think you’d really start crying from both the excessive praise and the overstimulation. His hand has mercifully stopped stroking your clit, and has moved to gently massaging your side. You let out a quiet, breathless laugh.
“Hah, fuck.” You don’t know why you don’t take advantage of your ability to have multiple consecutive orgasms more often, it feels fantastic. Then again, your legs feel like jelly. This is definitely ten times worth that birthday blowjob you gave him. Holy fuck.
Jake smiles at you, looking damn pleased with himself.
Then you notice he’s still hard, and your insides are disappointingly empty of any dubious substances. Fuck, he didn’t come. He was so focused on you that he didn’t even bother taking care of himself, and you really should—
Your spiraling thoughts are stopped short by a warm hand cradling your cheek. Your eyes meet Jake’s, and the sheer affection you can see in them makes your throat feel tight.
“Think you can go a third time?” He asks, barely above whisper. You can hear the heat in the roughness of his voice.
“Please.” Is all you can say, and he kisses you sweetly, slowly retreating from your heat, then rams himself back in, hitting your g-spot point-blank, and you see stars.
His movements are still slow, but this time he puts all his strength into slamming into you, and you’re so sensitive from coming twice, stuck at the perfect frontier between pleasure and pain.
“You’re doing so great, love.” He says, kisses your forehead, all the while continuing his slow but relentless rhythm. And you’re not sure what, exactly, does you in in the end, the overstimulation or the endless words of love, but your next moan comes out broken, and you feel wetness along your cheeks.
Jake freezes and braces himself on his elbows to look at you with concern and, fuck, you appreciate his thoughtfulness, but you don’t want him to stop.
“J-jake” you whine, trying to tell him to continue, but all that comes out is a sob and all that does is make him look more alarmed and congrats, it’s you, you’re the ultimate mood killer.
“Oh, no, what’s wrong, lovely? Too much?” He asks you, voice soft and full of concern. You shake your head wildly.
“No, yes, fuck, d-don’t stop. Jake.” You’re a mess, and Jake seems reasonably bewildered when you roughly grab his head with trembling hands to plant a big messy one on him. But he lets you, and returns your kiss earnestly. He’s obviously a bit hesitant to keep going, poor guy has no idea what’s going on suddenly, so you give him some encouragement by tightly wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing him back inside. The sigh you give him once you’re full again is finally enough to convince him that you’re still very much on board with the original plan, despite your overly-emotional state. His rocking resumes, but he keeps an attentive eye on your reactions.
“It’s okay, love.” He kisses your lips. “You’re doing great.” Your cheek. “So good for me.” Your temple.
You’re sure he means his words to be comforting, but it just makes you cry harder into the crook of his neck. At least he doesn’t let it psyche him out again, though he’s embracing you so tightly now, trying to surround you on all sides like you’re precious, like he wants to protect you from the entire world. It’s enough to send you over the edge with a broken sob, squeezing Jake like your life depends on it. The pressure around his dick causes him to groan into your ear, and you shudder as you feel him finally, finally fill you up with his come.
It takes the two of you a while to come down from your…highly unusual orgasms, lying on your sides in each other’s arms, taking deep breaths.
(And, in your case, crying yourself out a bit more.)
Now that you’ve come down from your emotions a bit, you can’t help but flush, burying your head in Jake’s chest with a groan.
“Ugh.” You say, words muffled by Jake’s ample bosom. “Just kill me right now.”
“Now now, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He answers, voice soft as he cards his fingers through your hair. “You scared my there, love, what happened?”
You hum, appreciating the feeling of his hands on your scalp. Doesn’t reduce your absolute mortification, but you appreciate the intent anyway.
“I’d like to say it was only overstimulation.” Your voice is rough, but at least now you can talk without stuttering, so that’s progress.
“But?”
“… But turns out I get emotional after coming twice.” You say quietly, more to his chest than him, but he hears you loud and clear anyway. His chuckle radiates warmth, and he tilts your head up oh-so-slightly to press a kiss to your forehead with a smile. You close your eyes and bask in the affection.
“So that’s what it was.” He murmurs into your hair. “I was afraid I’d hurt you.”
“You’re kidding right?” You tell him, opening one eye to shoot him an incredulous glance. “That’s the best sex I’ve had in my life.”
You think it’s hilarious how easily you can make him go red and stutter just by casually mentioning sex, as if he isn’t an expert at rendering you useless through dirty talk. It’s cute.
“And hey,” you continue, merciless, “at least now you know to expect the waterworks next time.”
His huff into your hair is equal parts exasperated and fond, and you smirk at your temporary victory.
(Until the next time he makes you cry in the bedroom, this time fully prepared for it. But you’ll get back at him for that one too, just you wait.)
(But hey, now you know you do actually have a sense of shame. Figures.)