Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/227224.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Sollux_Captor/Karkat_Vantas
  Character:
      Karkat_Vantas, Sollux_Captor
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-07-23 Words: 2340
****** A Taste Of Pity ******
by Miko
Summary
     Sollux has found a new favourite flavour.
The first time your matesprit keens and shudders against you, you're not sure
whether to curse or bless your burned-out eyes. You're pretty sure it's your
blindness that finally tipped his feelings for you from friendly antagonism
into pity, so if not for that, you wouldn't have him at all.
But oh, gog, you would give absolutely anything to be able to see him in that
moment; drowning in the pleasure you're giving him, not angry for probably the
first time in his life.
Maybe Terezi would be able to 'see' his expression, but even after weeks of
lessons you can barely differentiate the smell of one colour from another. He's
just a dim black/grey blob to your senses, and that's not nearly enough.
Reaching out, you run your fingers over the hard angles and rough planes of his
face, trying to construct the image from memory and exploration. He's biting
his lower lip, hard enough that you can feel the indents as you trace the
softer skin with your thumb. The sharp points of his teeth are hidden from your
touch, buried in his flesh. His eyes are closed, his lashes fluttering against
your fingers as you carefully ghost over them. His brows are drawn together
still, but you're pretty sure it's an expression of pleasure, not a scowl.
"What the fuck are you doing, grubtard?" he demands, but the usual bite is
missing from his words. His voice has gone high and tight with the effort of
forcing air through his constricted windtube. You did that to him, and you've
never heard anything so sexy in your entire life.
"I wanna see you, kk," you say softly, almost reverently. "I want to know what
you look like when I touch you."
"Surprised you haven't started licking me, then," he replies. He makes a little
huffing noise, like he's trying to sound exasperated, but it turns into a chirp
at the end.
Smiling, you raise your hand further, brushing his hair out of his eyes and
then sliding your fingers into the thick mass. It only takes you a moment to
find his horns, and he warbles and shudders again, suddenly resting more of his
weight against you.
"Would it be so bad if I was licking as well as touching?" you ask, trying for
an innocent tone. He chirps his answer, unable to say anything coherent while
you're playing with the base of his horns, and you grin in response.
Tormenting him always was one of your favourite pastimes. That hasn't changed
just because you started pitying him, too.
Leaning in, you flick your tongues out, tracing gently over his cheek. Colour/
taste explodes over your senses. You're still not anywhere near as accurate as
Terezi, but you can taste things a lot better than you can smell them. And
you've got an advantage over her, here - your bizarre split tongue lets you
taste things in stereo, so to speak. The slight offset means your depth
perception is considerably better than hers. It's the first time in your life
you've ever been grateful for any part of your freakish mutated body.
Especially right now, when you can almost see the familiar curve of his cheek
beneath your tongues. The grey of his skin is tinged with something else,
something sweet - his blush, you realize, licking again to try to get a better
taste. It's no use, the flavour is too muddied by his skin colour, but it
definitely tastes good.
Shifting your focus, you stretch your neck and tug his head down at the same
time, until you can reach his horns with your mouth. The horns themselves
aren't sensitive, of course, but he chirps when you tongue one anyway. In
anticipation of what's coming, maybe.
The nubby tip of his horn tastes like lemons, tart and refreshing. The place
where it blends into orange is especially delicious, as is the area where
orange darkens to red. The flavour of sweet, ripe cherries bursts over your
tongues and you savour it for a moment before dropping the final inch to taste
the warm flesh at the base of the horn.
He warbles as you flick your tongues over the sensitive area there, sliding one
on either side of his horn until he writhes against you.
All this time you've both been rocking your palms against each other's bone
bulges, occasionally dipping down to tease your nooks before returning to the
main task. As you switch sides to lick at his other horn, he keens softly and
arches his hips up, his bulge sliding from beneath the bony mound at last. He's
trembling against you now, and you feel a fierce sort of protective pity
towards him at such a vulnerable moment.
He's never had a matesprit before, or even a kismesis; for all his obsession
with romance, he never got to experience it for himself. That's one reason it's
so frustrating that you can't see him, because being the first person to ever
witness him losing control feels like such an important distinction and you
want to enjoy it fully.
His bulge is wriggling against your hand, and you palm it carefully, mindful of
your claws. The last thing you want to do is hurt him at all. Not that he would
probably notice if you were a touch too rough at the moment, considering the
way he's warbling breathlessly into your collarbone.
The skin around his horns is flushed with increased bloodflow because of all
the stimulation, until it feels feverish against your tongues. Again you can
almost identify the sweet taste of his blood colour beneath the grey, but this
time the overpowering flavour of cherry from the base of his horn is what masks
it.
Now your bulges have emerged as well, and it's your turn to chirp repeatedly as
he lets them tangle around his fingers. It's a lot harder to concentrate on
'seeing' through your tongues when he's playing with you like this, stroking
the callused pads of his fingers down the length of one and even dragging the
tip of one claw delicately over the root.
Squirming closer together, you hook your legs over each other and grind your
groins together. His bulge writhes over your hand as you slowly withdraw, and
he keens again at the loss even as he does the same. But the moment there's
nothing to block it, his bulge finds its way to your nook, and yours follow it
back to his.
The sensation of him sliding inside you is amazing, like and yet completely
unlike what it had felt like when you did it with your kismesis. This is
softer, gentler, and a whole different level of hot. He trembles as one of your
bulges slips into his nook as well. The other is left without anywhere to go,
but it wraps itself around the base of his instead, a solution that's more than
acceptable to both of you.
Once again you curse your inability to see his face as his keen goes high and
strained. He's never had anyone inside him before, and you can remember how
stunned you felt the first time. You want to see that reaction from him, want
to revel in it and use the visual feedback to help you push him as high as he
can go before he breaks.
You've got one hand at his hip to steady yourself as you grind up into him, but
your other hand returns to his face, tracing the shape of it and trying to
decipher the expression. Your tongues are still wrapped around his horn,
stroking now in time to the writhing of your bulge inside him, making his
breath hitch and keen stutter erratically.
His bulge is squirming, pressing against your breaking point with each
movement, until you feel every bit as flushed and overheated as he is. Your
breath is coming short and sharp, barely able to get any air through your
windtube, and finally you have to untangle your tongues just so you can get a
little more oxygen. He whines at the loss and digs his claws into your lower
back, yanking you closer.
The hint of pain makes the pleasure all the sweeter, and you retaliate by
lowering your head and biting his jaw. That makes it even harder to breathe
than just having your tongues extended, of course, but it's worth it for the
way he chirps and squirms beneath your touch. You're tempted to dig your teeth
in harder and draw blood, but this is your matesprit, not your kismesis. A
little pain is okay, spice to balance the sweetness, but actually injuring him
isn't appropriate.
His keening is taking on an urgent note, and you can feel it, too; pressure and
heat rising in your groin, your shame globes aching with the need for release
as your nook flutters around his bulge. So good, it feels so good, and you have
no idea why you waited so long to do this with him because surely this has to
be the most amazing thing in the world. In all the worlds.
You'd heard the metallic clank as he set a pail down beside you earlier, and
now you reach out, groping in that general direction. Of course you manage to
knock it over instead of grabbing it, and it rolls out of your reach with a
rattle that kicks your internal heat up another notch.
He curses under his breath, and releases you with one hand in order to retrieve
the wayward pail. When he shoves it against your chest the cool metal is a
shock to your overheated skin, and you gasp. Somehow the two of your manage to
untangle enough to get to your knees without actually losing contact with each
other. He's shaking against you now, probably with the effort of holding back,
and his claws screech on the metal as he wrestles the pail into position.
It's a short distance between his hip and his groin, and before he realizes
what you're up to you've got your fingers wrapped around his shame globes,
tugging gently. That's enough to push him past the breaking point, and he keens
sharply as he jerks helplessly into your touch. His genetic material hits your
hand on the way to the bucket, but you don't care in the least, savouring the
noises he's making and the way he's shuddering against you.
That and the muffled sounds of liquid hitting the metal pail are enough to
break you as well. The release of genetic material triggers a rush of chemicals
in your mutant brain that leaves you drowning in the best possible way.
"Fuck," he's muttering as you return to reality. He sounds... panicked, almost,
and that doesn't make any sense at all. His trembling now feels less like it's
due to pleasure and more like he's fighting the urge to attack, his muscles
tense with aggression. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh shit..."
Now you really want to be able to see him, because you have no idea where this
came from or what's wrong. You really hope it wasn't something you did, but how
could it be anything else? "Kk? What..."
"Nothing. Nothing, it's nothing," he says sharply, like he's trying to convince
himself as well as you. "Never mind, I'm panicking over nothing. Shit."
You slide your thumb over his cheek, trying to read his expression, but all you
can get is the sense of a scowl. You could have guessed that on your own
without any extra sensory input. Sighing, you decide not to push the issue. You
don't want to ruin the moment further by sending him into a full-on paranoid
fit as he tries to hide whatever-it-is from you.
"It's okay," you tell him instead, and nuzzle at his cheek. He relaxes slowly
against you, letting you cuddle him. Nudging the bucket out of the way, you
shift around so you're both arranged more comfortably, you sitting with your
back to the wall and him leaning against your chest.
Your other hand is still covered in his genetic material. Without thinking
about it you lift it to your mouth to lick it, something that has already
become an instinctive reaction to just about everything. He shouts and swipes
at your wrist with his claws, but it's too late... the intense taste of
cherries has already flooded your mouth, so strong you nearly choke on it.
Oh.
Oh.
Just like that, suddenly everything about him makes so much more sense. His
constant crabbiness, his near-hermit status before the game, his absolute
refusal to become intimate with anyone. Except you, and then only after you
were blinded, because that made you 'safe', unable to see what would be
impossible to hide from a matesprit or kismesis. The colour of his genetic
material, and therefore the colour of his blood.
And now you know why Terezi was so disproportionately disappointed when he
chose you over her. She could probably smell the colour beneath his skin no
problem, and the thought of having a concupiscent quadrant whose genetic
material was her favourite colour must have put her over the moons.
He's shaking again, probably caught between equally strong urges to flee and to
kill you. He's also trying to pull away, but you quickly get your arm around
him and stop him from moving back any further. You're sure he's probably
glaring at you, but that never bothered you even when you could see it.
"Dumbass," you say softly, pityingly, putting everything in your heart into the
word. "You're my matesprit. I'm not going to hurt you. It just gives me even
more reason to feel bad for you. Besides," you grin wickedly, and lick your
fingers again just to hear the strangled little yelp he makes. "Tz's right,
this is fucking delicious."
Red was already one of your favourite colours, but now you think it might just
be the best flavour in the fucking universe.
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