“Do you trust me?” It’s a simple line, one that Jake’s seen in his movies a million times. But it’s the one he chooses as he holds his hand out to Dirk. He’s pulled Dirk into the bedroom they’ve been sharing during the game, on Dirk’s planet, his childhood home. Jake knows how much it meant to Dirk to have another person in his space for the first time. The number of times Dirk has submit to him on the bed, pulling just enough stops out to give in, but reserved. Dirk is always hiding something, even as he tries to convince himself that he isn’t.
“Of course, man. What’s this Aladdin Genie Jasmine shit you’ve got going on today?” Despite his protestations, Dirk gives his hand to Jake, and allows Jake to pull him onto the bed.
“Just trust that I know what’s good for you. And take your clothes off,” Jake commands, his voice lowering just a bit into his dominant register. These moments, when he gets to order Dirk around, rather than all the times him or the AR have dicked him around.
Dirk nods. “A’ight, can do, boss. You gonna dom me? Sweet.” He quickly pulls his shirt over his head, drops his shorts. The underwear come off last, and Jake marvels at his johnson. It’s the same as always, but it’s always incredible.
“The glasses too.”
“Man, really?” At Jake’s lack of a response, Dirk just furrows his brow and complies, slowly. The glasses - sans robot, Jake made him promise never to wear the robot ones on dates - are folded neatly, set gently on the bedside table. He’s fully naked now, looking at Jake with those orange irises that are such a rare sight for even him. He’s trying to seem calm, but Jake knows that he feels laid bare and vulnerable. His nose twitches when he’s uncomfortable, just barely, Dirk is almost entirely in control of himself. But Jake notices - there, just a bit, his demeanor hard otherwise.
Jake pushes Dirk onto the bed. Swiftly and deftly knots the rope he had stashed on the headboard. “Give me your hands.” Dirk offers them up, and Jake ties them down, shoulder width apart. Dirk has to lean on his forearms to keep himself upright, pulls his knees up until he’s in doggy position. Just where Jake wants him.
Jake, still fully clothed, pulls out one of his pistols. He undoes the buckle, and the holster drops to the floor with a thud. He slips out of his shorts and shirt next, leaving his undergarments on.
“You sure you trust me? Completely, Dirk?” Jake checks in one more time - although he’s not sure at this point that he cares what the answer is. Dirk’s already agreed to what he’s about to get into; that’s like him, not even knowing what’s about to happen, so long as it’ll be hot.
“Yeah, man. Go for it,” Dirk turns his head as he answers, and Jake catches the slightest change in his face when he registers his boyfriend standing in just boxer shorts and a binder, shiny six-shooter in his hand. Good - be surprised. Be scared, or as scared as Dirk Strider can possibly be. That’s what Jake wants.
Jake steps up onto the bed, and positions himself between Dirk’s legs. His groin is just a few centimeters from Dirk’s bare skin, and he leans down to whisper in his ear, their upper bodies touching.
“Do I keep my gun loaded when I carry, Dirk? Do you know?” He sits back up straight. No response, as expected. Dirk’s silent, as if speaking would be a concession to Jake. At all other moments, Dirk can't shut up, pinging Jake's phone every five minutes. It's like he's willing to give up his body but not his dignity - in the form of showing any form of need for another human. Not that there's much dignity to be lost when he’s naked, tied bellydown, and there's a gun pointed squarely at the back of his head.
Dirk shivers as Jake traces the metal down his spine. His hands tied out in front of him, he's completely at the mercy of Jake and the pistol in his hand. It's exhilarating - having him so utterly defenseless. So scared. And yet, so needy. Dirk never lets his guard down until Jake has him. It makes him feel powerful, knowing he has the ability to break down those defenses. To get those glasses off, and that perky behind up in the air like that.
Jake taps the revolver’s barrel against Dirk’s ass. The meat of his rear bounces, and Jake can just barely see the head of his manhood between Dirk’s spread legs as it moves from the impact as well. He does it again, this time harder; Dirk’s ass turns the tiniest bit red, and he hisses, jerks away from the impact. Jake smiles. “You want me to pistol-whip you again, Dirk? Are you such a bottom bitch that you want goofy ol’ Jake English to spank your ass with a gun?”
Dirk shoves his face into the bed, sticks his ass as far into the air as it will go. Playing extra difficult today? Not even a yes? Jake can go along with that. “What do you want me to do to do you, Dirk-lad? You have to use your words, I don’t know what’s in your mind or heart!” Jake traces circles on Dirk’s body with the muzzle of the gun, guiding it slowly down to his stomach, pushing the tip into his skin. As the gun makes it way closer to Dirk’s jaw, the blonde boy still silent, his shivers are the only thing giving away his feelings. Ever since they started playing this way here on LOTAK, Jake’s been trying to get something more out of Dirk during their lovemaking. It’s the one aspect of power that Jake hasn’t been able to get Dirk to give up to him; he’s decided to pull out all the stops today. If in the rest of their moments, Dirk gets to be in charge - Jake’s going to reverse that however he has to.
Jake presses the muzzle of the gun directly into Dirk’s jaw. “You didn’t answer when I asked you earlier: is it loaded?” Beads of sweat begin to form on his rear, glinting in the light. “Do you want me to give it a try?” He eases the gun away from Dirk’s face, trailing it back down his abdomen, around his leg. “How about here?” The gun presses directly into Dirk’s testes, pushing them right up to the base of his dick. “What if I pull the trigger, Dirk?”
Dirk responds, again not with words, but by pressing his hard length right into the tip of the pistol, as if daring Jake to go on. He begins to rub himself on the gun, his ass bouncing up and down with each thrust. He’s not taking this seriously? He won’t use his words? The Dirk Strider, unable to say anything, because he knows it might actually be what someone else wants for once?
Fine.
Jake swiftly cocks the gun, the click of the hammer loud in the quiet room, and Dirk actually tenses. “Do you dare me? Are you willing to take that chance - to lose this part of you?” Dirk manually relaxes his muscles, continues rubbing himself on the gun. His dick starts leaking precum. Jake watches as it dribbles out onto the bedsheets. His own sex is begging for him to touch himself, to fuck Dirk’s ass, to strip and free it from the cotton prison, but he ignores that. Today’s about Dirk, first and foremost. Like most things have been, he muses, but in a different way this time. Jake’s way.
“I know what you need, while my pistol is ready to shoot, you’ll be shooting too, soon enough, eh?” He pulls the revolver away from Dirk’s length, and without warning, whips his ass with it once again. This time, he does it hard enough that it leaves a red impression, and Dirk hisses at the impact. “Whoops, almost pulled the trigger there, that might not have been so good!” He adds, although his trigger discipline is very sharp, thank you, but one must perform a scene, after all. He’s not sure if Dirk believes what he’s said, if he even believes that the gun is loaded, but he presses on.
“You know, Dirk, I think it’s high time I fuck your peachy little ass,” he says. He hits the gun against that peachy ass one last time for good measure. “Although - I left my own dick back on LOMAX. Whatever will I do?” The gun taps gently on Dirk’s lower back, as Jake feigns thinking. “Hm. How can I fuck you? Oh! Of course! What is more phallic than a gun? Isn’t that what you’re always chiding me about - or was that your Autoresponder pretending to be you? I can never quite tell.” The passive aggression comes out a little too easily, and Jake tries to push his irritation back down. This is hot - he’s horny, he doesn’t want to start yet another argument.
He wants to fuck a blonde-haired orange-eyed hunk. With his gun.
He presses the gun to Dirk’s entrance, not worrying about lubrication or any of that. If it hurts? So be it. “It’s still cocked, you know,” he reminds his silent partner as he toys with his hole. Just the tip, slowly pushing in and out of Dirk, the tiniest bit of resistance. His ass opens up, letting in more of the barrel each time.
He pushes in, an inch, two. Dirk grabs the bedsheets with one of his tied hands, and turns back to look at Jake. They make eye contact, Jake staring into Dirk’s eyes, as he pushes the pistol deeper into him, pulls it out. “You like this, don’t you? Go on and say it, why are you so difficult, Dirk?”
He just blinks, wiggles his ass so the gun barrel lodges further inside.
“If that’s how it’s going to be, chum,” Jake replies to the obstinance, and pushes the gun as far as it will go in, in one swift movement. Dirk grunts, but quickly quells his reaction.
With his revolver fully inside his boyfriend, Jake lets go. It hangs there, the grip heavy and hanging. It slides out, slowly, as Jake strips the last of his layers. Between his legs is wet; he returns his hand to the gun, positions himself so he’s straddling one of Dirk’s legs. He begins to rub himself on Dirk’s calf while he thrusts the gun in and out, matching the pace of his hips to his hand.
“You like it when I fuck you, don’t you?” Jake mumbles, more to himself than to Dirk. He’s taking a leisurely pace, his own pre making his thrusts smooth and rhythmic against the other’s skin. “I’m inside you, and you’re loving it. Tell me you love it, Dirk.”
He speeds up both of his movements, keeping them in time, humping and grinding and fucking Dirk as hard as he can. The feeling of himself on Dirk, knowing that he’s capable of doing anything, what happens if he pulls that trigger. It’s all too much.
Abruptly, he pulls the gun out. “You don’t tell me what you want, how will I know?” He doesn’t stop fucking Dirk’s leg. “I feel so good, you make me feel so good, but you won’t even say the same to me. It’s so sad, Dirk.” Grinding - pleasure - need. Fuck, so much need.
“Tell me, Dirk. I want you to cum for me - but you have to speak to me. Tell me what you want.” He’s practically begging now, the authority in his voice gone, all of what he’s been wanting to say coming out at once. Talk to me, Dirk, he pleads with his hips, his whimpers. He’s powerless after all, isn’t he? The only time he can get anything out of Dirk is when he’s fucking him, when he’s playing this role. It’s a good role - fuck, it’s so hot, he’s so close to cumming - but it’s a role nonetheless. “I won’t let you cum until you tell me you want it, that you need it.”
Dirk turns his head, watches Jake as the pleasure mixes with his rattled feelings, as his domination wanes, self-doubt settling in even now. They hold eye contact, gun in Jake’s hand. He points it right at Dirk’s head, finger along the barrel, but flicks the safety off. As he rides out his climax, head thrown back, thighs and bedsheets sticky sweet, he cries out Dirk’s name. He cries. The gun stays aimed at Dirk, those eyes he hardly ever sees trained right down the barrel. As he calms down from his orgasm, he looks Dirk right again in the eyes, winks.
He points the gun at the wall and fires it.