Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/379941.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Vriska_Serket
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Vriska_Serket
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-04-10 Words: 1650
****** Differences Aplenty ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     "To be completely honest, this is probably not John's idea of the
     perfect way to introduce himself to troll anatomy."
Notes
     first Homestuck fic i've ever finished and decided to post! and of
     course it's smut. ahaha, oh, self.
To be completely honest, this is probably not John's idea of the perfect way to
introduce himself to troll anatomy.
Not that having Vriska sitting in his lap, shirtless and grinning like a cat
about to pounce, isn't completely delightful, but John's more preoccupied with
the fact that when Vriska shifts her hips up against his own, he feels
something...wiggling in her pants. He hadn't really been paying attention to
anything beyond her breasts (because hello, he's a teenager and there is a
half-naked girl sitting on his legs) until Vriska's hips rocked forward against
his own, and then holy shit there is a tent in her pants that should not
logically be there.
If Vriska was human.
Which she's not, and John had to come to terms with that properly. Yeah, he
could acknowledge the grey skin, the horns, the claws and teeth, but when he
thought about what might be below Vriska's belt, he'd assumed it
was...humanish.
Not whatever is now pressing against him.
John leans back, blinking wide eyes down between them. "Uh, Vriska?"
"What noooooooow?" Vriska gives a long-suffering sigh as she leans back, her
eyes following John's gaze. She clearly doesn't see anything out of place, and
she looks at John again, frowning. "Seriously, John, what's got your nook in a
knot?"
"Your--" John gestures down at Vriska's crotch, and when she just cocks an
eyebrow at him, he reaches out, carefully pokingthe bulge in Vriska's pants.
When Vriska shivers, he starts to realize that, yes, that kind of seems to be
exactly what John assumed it is.
"It's called a bone bulge, John," Vriska said, in an almost condescending tone.
"Humans have them too, right?"
"Well, I mean..." John swallows thickly, trying to figure out how to word this
right. "Human...guys have one. Not girls. And it doesn't, you know, move."
"Huh!" Vriska tilts her head, honestly intrigued as she reaches down, slipping
clawed fingers under John's shirt. "Weird."
You're one to talk. John was going to say something about how trolls were just
as weird, but Vriska's fingertips are sliding up his chest, her thumbs finding
his nipples to ever so lightly drag her claws over them. John's train of
thought is promptly interrupted, hands going to Vriska's hips and squeezing.
Vriska makes a noise that's nearly a purr, the sound beside John's ear as her
tongue drags over his throat.
The wiggling...bone bulge in Vriska's pants is momentarily forgotten in favor
of John letting his hands explore Vriska's chest in a way similar to what she
was already doing to him. His hands cup her breasts, kneading experimentally,
and he can't deny how much he loves it when the purring grows louder, Vriska's
approval obvious and her squirming growing more pronounced in his lap until she
sharply pulls away, nearly cutting John's chest as she yanks her hands out from
under his shirt.
"Something new now," she decides, licking her lips. Her eyes are hazy, almost
glassy as she smirks at John. She pushes him down on the bed, then pulls away,
shucking off her pants and leaving them carelessly with her shirt. She's
anything but shy as she climbs back onto John, and now he has a clear shot
of...what exactly was wiggling against him.
Oh fucking hell.
Vriska's "bulge" resembles a tentacle, like something straight out of Rose's
fantasies (John would bet). It's tinted the color of Vriska's blood, and
worming around, curling around itself and unfurling, reaching for something to
hold onto. It takes John longer to process that just beneath that squirming
mess, Vriska's thighs are nearly dripping. Blue fluid is smeared from where
she'd pulled down her pants, but more is slowly coating her grey skin, nearly
reaching her knees. John's eyes follow the fluid back up between her legs, and
he sees a slit where the blue mess is originating from; hesitating, he reaches
out, dragging fingers over Vriska's thighs and through the genetic material.
It's sticky, viscous, and John's not sure what to do with it; there's just so
much!
"Hey, no touching until you're naked, too." Vriska's voice cuts through John's
contemplation, and his gaze snaps up to her face; he notices that her cheeks
are flushed a little blue, and her hair is sort of a mess, strands falling in
front of her face and curling around her jaw and cheeks.
"Right. I can do that," John says quickly, and Vriska's polite enough to let
him get his own pants and underwear off, along with his shirt, before she plops
back into his lap. God, she's wet and dripping and the fluid is already getting
all over John's legs. There's a lump in John's throat, and, swallowing around
it, he reaches out to touch Vriska again, but she catches his wrist.
"Hold your hoofbeasts, John. I want to touch you first," she decides ,and she
scoots back to get a look at John's hardened cock. "Wow, this is weird," she
breathes, reaching out to prod John's length. It bobs, and she seems both
amused and pleased with that. "It doesn't even move!"
"I-I told you," John says breathlessly, his big teeth digging into his lower
lip as he lets Vriska touch and play as much as she likes, though his own hands
are itching to get back on Vriska's skin.
"Hmmmmmmmm." Vriska contemplates her next move, and when she scoots closer to
John again, she lets her bulge wrap itself around his cock.
"Holy fucking--!" John's hips jerk up immediately into the pressure, and Vriska
almost giggles; she really likes that reaction, apparently. The appendage wound
around John's cock starts to undulate and squirm, and John is completely lost
in the sensation, any thoughts about weirdness or alien genitals now wholly
forgotten in favor of how fucking good Vriska is making him feel.
"V-Vriska," he pants, his head falling back on a pillow, and Vriska leans over
him, her hips raised but her shoulders dipped to brush her breasts over John's
chest. He is sure she can feel the way his chest heaves, how worked up he is
just because of the pressure and slide of her alien...dick on his own. God,
that's so weird to think about; Vriska's a girl, he knows that, but...she's got
this tentacle thing and-- and then her bulge does something incredible and
twisty and John just doesn't even care anymore.
Vriska's sharp teeth tug at John's ear, gently enough not to hurt him, but the
slight sting sends shivers down John's spine, heat building in his belly.
"Vriska," he repeats, and he can swear he hears the quietest, faintest murmur
of his own name from the troll, breathed across the shell of his ear. His hands
finally move from the sheets, resting on Vriska's hips, sliding over her ass
and down her the backs of her thighs; she's so wet that even there his fingers
catch in the sticky fluid, but he doesn't really pay it any mind before his
hand slips around to the inside of her thighs, moving up, up, up...
There's a sharp gasp against John's ear when he presses his fingers to Vriska's
nook, gathering the fluid as it seeps out of her, and he spreads it over his
digits, then presses one into her, and god, she's hot and wet and it feels like
her nook is pulling him in...
They moan in tandem, and John's hips rock up into the squeeze and tug of
Vriska's bulge, just as she starts to move against him, into his fingers. The
motion pulls at John's cock, just enough to make his moans louder, to prompt
him to do more, press another finger into her, not stopping; neither of them
wanted to, not now, not with the amazing, unfamiliar pleasure that's coursing
through them. John's never felt this good before, and the fact that it's
Vriska, so close, so warm, makes all of it better, and when she lifts her head
to press a sloppy, breathless kiss to his lips, John doesn't hesitate to kiss
her back.
Writhing, moaning, a complete mess of fluid and sweat, John and Vriska rock
together; the position is almost uncomfortable, but it's all made up for when
John feels his climax crest, and he comes over Vriska's bulge and his own
belly.
Vriska breaks away from the kiss to look down, to watch, her eyes wide, but
they grow wider still when John stops coming, and he flops uselessly back on
the bed, his fingers still loosely inside Vriska's nook.
"That's all?" she asks breathlessly, blinking owlishly at John.
John stares at her, his expression a little lost. "Ye-yeah?"
"You'd never fill a pail," Vriska decides, scoffing as she pulls away from
John, her bulge releasing his as she sits back on the bed. Her own fingers take
the place of John's in her nook, one hand curling around the twisting length of
her bulge, and the appendage wraps around her digits as she works herself over.
John's too dumbstruck to move or speak or help, and he can't do more than watch
as Vriska reaches her climax, her back arching sharply as she lets out a high
shout, shaking and shuddering, and then suddenly John's bed is soaked through
as blue fluid gushes from her.
So...that's what pails are all about.
John is sure his jaw is hanging open as Vriska finally finishes, and she flops
onto her back, panting raggedly, but looking...sated. Shifting around, John
crawls so that he can lie beside her, his chin perching on her shoulder. The
bed is horribly sticky, but for the moment, he chooses to ignore it in favor of
grinning at the troll.
"What?" Vriska asks, her eyebrows rising, her voice breathy.
"Nothing," John decides, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. "That was
just kind of different."
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!