Archive of Our Own ^beta

Swaddled in your comforter, you blink back the tired haze that washes over you. Your thoughts trail over one another, never quite lingering on something coherent. It’s times like these, when everything’s quiet, that you don’t feel so alone— knowing all these eyes are on you…knowing  you’re safe with them.

Your gaze stays zeroed in on your wallpaper, your head facing it at the somewhat odd angle you’re laying in. You aren’t really focusing on the pattern anyway. Dreams dance in your mind, the sort of dreams that come to you when you aren’t even asleep yet.

Your shoulder is exposed, the cool air from Hector that must’ve come into play with a whir when you weren’t paying attention drifting over your bare skin. You remind yourself to thank him extra well one of these days, for being so observant — but the thought doesn’t stick.

You want more posters, to cover up the walls. You don’t like the wallpaper here. Or, do you? you’ll probably feel different about it tomorrow. Is it still today? that might be enough thinking for now.

Preceded by a final little shuffle of your legs, your eyes start to slip shut…

“Dork.”

Oh, fuck off.

Doug looms over you, his blank eyes boring into yours. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how dreadful his face alone makes you feel. Seriously, you weren’t even ruminating, why’s he here?

“Hey. Dorkus.” He says, sharper this time, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes obnoxiously. “Seriously, is there anything going on in that dumb little head of yours? I did mean it when i said you weren’t much in the brains department, you know.”

His eyes scan over you, focusing on the headphones around your neck. The little blue light on them is flashing, still connected. Your eyes widen and you yelp as he tugs them from you. You pounce on him, the embarrassment of Doug hearing whatever the fuck’s looping on your playlist giving you newfound energy.

“HEY— GIVE ME THOSE!” you shriek as he tears the headphones from your hands with irritating ease. He presses one of the cups to his…head, and listens for an excruciating moment.

“Gay.” he deadpans, tossing them onto your sheets. “So, Dorkus, why am i here?” He stares at you, as if he hadn’t just appeared in your room of his own will mere seconds ago. You are going to throttle this cunt.

“I should be asking you. What, d’you want me to watch you jack off again? I’m supposed to be sleeping here.” You roll over, unimpressed and devoid of the sweet exhaustion you were previously wrapped up in. Good luck getting to sleep now.

“Fuck no. You lasted, like, a minute before you were dripping all over the shop. Daddy Doug’s here for the real action, if you’d shift over.” He lightly slaps your side through the covers, but you don’t budge. “Dork.”

You stare stubbornly at Bathroom Dorian, firmly unmoving. Doug is silent for a sweet moment. “…Is this your bitchy way of saying you don’t wanna get laid for once?”

You don’t give him the privelage of an answer, annoyed by the flush spreading across your cheeks as you recall last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

“Well—“ Doug rasps through a sigh. “I’m taking this as a yes.” A large hand wraps around your ankle in a vice-like grip, pulling your legs open and rolling you onto your back. You wonder, in the moment, what the definition of hatefucking is. He is your Boyfriend, though…

Doug kneels over you on the bed, his large, cold hands roaming under your shirt, gliding over your skin in a way that makes you shiver. You scowl up at him, as you tend to do, and his expression is the same as usual, save for a smirk. You search for any hint of a flush on his marbled cheeks, to tease him, but the darkness proves it difficult.

“Focus, Dork. Panties off. Do i have to do everything round here?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his mumble about how it won’t be the last time you do that tonight, and slip your thumbs under the waistbands of your shorts and underwear. You slip them off, still scowling.

“I hate you so much.” His hands practically tear the shirt from your chest, groping you in a way that makes you jitter, light and teasing, stopping before you get into the flow of things. You’re not gonna give him the pleasure of knowing, but the way he manoeuvres you with such ease is getting you very hot. “You can never just let me be.”

“And yet, i’m not hearing “red”.” Doug pushes his fingers into your mouth with zero warning. “Spit. No, COAT them.” He cuts in as you feebly lick his index. His tone has you salivating anyway, and when he pulls back out your mouth is dripping. He drags his fingers around your hole, getting you even more soaked than you already are, something you didn’t think possible. “See that? and you said you didn’t want me.” He smirks, and you look away, biting your lip and screwing up your face so not to make a sound as his thumb rubs circles above your entrance.

You hook your legs, already softly trembling, upon his shoulders. He begins to scissors you open, and you can’t suppress the sigh of pleasure that leaves your lips. Complain as you might, you can’t deny that Doug is very, very good at hitting your sweet spots. He pushes deep inside of you, curling his fingers almost tactically. You bite down on a groan and lean your head back, staring at him, though he doesn’t stare back at you. You drift a little bit, the sensations making your palms curl up.

Doug’s only ever done doggy style and reverse cowgirl with you. You’d grown used to the idea that Doug cared to see your ass more than he cared to see your face, but this mixes things up a bit. Though he doesn’t meet your eye, he’s being a little slower in the process tonight. If he had hair, you’d tangle your fingers in it. Maybe he’d like that.

“Ready?” His voice draws you back into focus. You breathe, begging for it like a prayer, like seeking forgiveness. You silently curse yourself for once again, folding under him. His cold palms ground you, like balm to burns, holding your waist. He slowly pushes into you, and his size which always shocks you draws a soft moan from your lips. You clench around him, and he stiffens in reply, eyes closing, groaning lowly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re tight. Thought you had..” Doug trails off with…was that a whimper? as your walls tighten around him again. “…like…100 lovers at this point..Not that i’m complaining.”

You let your head fall back once more and breathe heavily. “..’s not how muscles work, now fuck me, damnit—“ You practically mewl for him. Pathetic, really. But he likes it.

You both fall into rhythm. It’s…new. The room is dark blue, moonlight creeping from the curtains and catching on Doug’s face. This isn’t like the times you’ve had sex previously. The sound of skin on skin is much softer. He’s going slower. His eyes are on yours, catching every hitch of your breath, every little noise when he hits all your best spots. He breathes your name when you tighten around him, and buries his fingers in your hair.

You are a tangle of limbs. Intertwined in a way that should have never been possible. You aren’t the sort to think like this, to act like this; but when an emotionless being shows such feeling for you, how could you not? Maybe Hector’s rubbing off on you. He’s probably rubbing off to you right now.

“..y’re being quiet..” You slur, after god knows how long. Your hands roam over his chest, fluttery with tremors from being fucked so well. His left guides your right down to rest on the bed.

“you’re being quiet. I’m just matching the mood.” he murmurs, keeping the volume low. He feels you start to tighten more, your soft whimpers drawing closer together the closer to cumming you get. He brings up his pace a little before slowing right down, teasing, but helping.

You cry his name as you finish, your vision going white with the force of it. Doug follows soon behind, thick ribbons of cum spreading over your stomach and coating your insides. You lose focus and allow Doug to scoop you into his lap, still buried deep in you, your cheek squished against his weirdly salty chest. He fiddles with your hair, and you both breathe heavily, as if you’d forgotten how.

Doug pats your ass twice. “You did good.” He murmurs, high praise from a man like him. You’re blissed out, pliant and a total mess, covered in his semen still.

Doug isn’t one for aftercare. This time, he cleans you up with a towel as you lay there staring into space through half lidded eyes, and pulls your sheets up over you once more. You almost drift off, nearly succeeding this time; nearly. Doug flicks your forehead.

“Don’t fall asleep. Go piss, you’ll get a UTI. People die from those.”

Doug lifts the Dateviators from your face, thus disappearing. You do piss, before crawling back into bed, already aching, and allowing yourself to slip into sleep with a small smile on your face.