Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/820372.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Mituna_Captor/Latula_Pyrope, Cronus_Ampora/Mituna_Captor
  Character:
      Mituna_Captor, Cronus_Ampora, Latula_Pyrope, Kankri_Vantas
  Additional Tags:
      Bulges_and_Nooks, Angst, Quadrant_Confusion, Morails_with_pails_(CroMit)
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-28 Completed: 2013-08-09 Chapters: 6/6 Words: 13104
****** Shitty Sentiments ******
by AppleCherry108
Summary
     Your name is Mituna Captor and you think the quadrant system is
     broken. Someone broke it and suddenly you don't give a flying fuck
     about flushed or pale or caliginous--you just want to be with her. In
     every single fucking way possible.
Notes
     I promise this is really mitula and the cromit is only really in this
     first chapter.
     Also, ages are not specified, it could be pre-game Beforus or non-
     game AU, it's up to the reader for interpretation. Marked as underage
     because it's possible they're not 18.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Your name is Mituna Captor and you think the quadrant system is broken. Someone
broke it and suddenly you don't give a flying fuck about flushed or pale or
caliginous--you just want to be with her in every single way possible.
But you can't be, so you don't.
Latula is her name, she's new you think, you only started seeing her around a
few weeks ago. You have no idea where she lives. Or anything about her for that
matter. What's wrong with you? Have you even talked to her yet? Yes, yes you
have, thank you very much. You met her at the skate park and were immediately
taken with her rad skills. Babe could board like no other. You suppose you're
pretty badass yourself but everything pales in comparison to her. Shit, you
just want to be all up in her business. You're a totally smooth player though,
so no worries. Asked her the time the other night, nice. Even said thanks, what
a gentletroll.
You are so fucking stupid it physically hurts sometimes.
Fuck that noise, you're gonna do it. Gonna make this happen.
Just fucking ask her out already, you piece of shit. God, what even is wrong
with you? You're embarrassing yourself.
Your inner dialogue is interrupted. You're not sure how long you've been
spacing out, long enough, apparently, for your bulge of a moirail to look
pretty fucking pissed. You really need to work on that. It's bad enough you
feel like there's two people inside your head, but when they start arguing it's
just ridiculous. You try to be the positive you.
You are now the negative refuse that you have always been. Douche.
"Hey, vwhat are you vwaiting for? The sun's coming up soon, do you vwanna get
fucking fried?" Apparently you've been out all night. Another reason you think
the quadrant system is shit, Cronus is so obviously black for you but he only
ever offers himself up as pale. You wonder if it's just his muddled feelings or
maybe you're overthinking the douchery of some people. Before you can ponder
upon another existential quandary, Cronus grabs your arm and drags you back to
his hive. Yours is too far away and with limited moonlight it looks like you're
going to be spending the day at his place again. Good, you sure could use a
good old fashioned feelings jam.
You're still brooding over your foul mood when Cronus pushes you onto a pile of
hideous jackets. Fucker keeps saying he'll find his style one of these days,
but until then he's amassed quite the collection of shitty outfits. He just
sort of keeps them on the floor, conveniently stacked for feelings jams, or
whatever the hell it is you two do. He says he does it for quick reference, so
he can stare at all his rejected fashions every day, just to be sure he hasn't
accidentally overlooked his dream style, but you know he does it because you
said you liked the feel of the different fabrics on your skin.
Speaking of which, you feel that familiar sensation on your spine once more as
it seems Cronus has relieved you of your pants. Dammit, turns out you're not
really in the mood for this after all. Like you give a fuck, though. Maybe it's
just what you need. You never know what you fucking need. God you are such a
mixed up mess of hormones. Cronus scoots closer to you, apparently having
removed all of his clothing; he carefully pulls your legs over his hips,
bringing your pelvises right up against each other. He gently begins to caress
your sleeping bulge, trying to coax it out of your nook. You suppress a low
moan in your throat.
Alright, you really do need this.
You make a conscious effort to release one of your bulges, making sure the
other one stays tucked away. You've never shown Cronus the twin and you never
plan to. He doesn't do well with "different." You can imagine the amount of
shit he would flip if he found out. You grin stupidly at the notion that he'd
just want to take them both at once. It's a 50/50 chance between that and
trying to beat the shit out of you. Damn his obvious yet repressed caliginous
feelings. Besides, it doesn't matter if he'd take it as a good thing or not,
you're saving yourself. What a shitty sentiment. Shitty, but true. You have
this idiotic fantasy about meeting a troll that breaks your quadrants and just
makes you feel everything all at once, that they'd make your blood pusher burst
with affection. And with that, your thoughts travel back to Latula. The
beautiful, amazing, radical troll that's stolen your every waking thought. The
moan you've been holding back finally escapes past your lips and you feel your
face warm over.
"Awv, looks like someone has a lot of feelings to jam about." Oh god fucking
dammit you're still grinning, aren't you? You feel stupider than usual. You
direct your gaze to your moirail who's also grinning like a piece of shit as he
catches your bulge in his hand with his own and starts pumping you both.
You completely forgot you were in the middle of a feelings jam, or whatever
this depraved ritual counts as. 'Rails with Pails,' Cronus calls it, though you
two have never once used a bucket. You don't really argue with his methods, as
you tend to fall on the physical side of things rather than the talkative.
Cronus' motto is 'fap don't pap' and it works out pretty damn well you think,
so what the hell.
Usually the feel of his fingers and squirming bulge gliding over your own is
enough to calm even the highest of your strung nerves, but it's not working
today. Instead your mind is flooded with glimpses of Latula. Suddenly it's not
your moirail's firm hand grasping you, it's hers. You screw your eyes shut and
imagine her stroking you. Her slender fingers rolling you over in her hand as
she whispers rad bullshit in her lovely voice, and you can't fucking take it.
Before Cronus can ask about the talky part of this jam, you buck upwards in a
jerking motion, hips shuddering under every pump of his hand. Your breathing
quickens and you grasp fistfuls of the cool fabric beneath you. Your mind
becomes a buzzing mess, and you can no longer focus on an image of the rad
babe. Her visage splits like a faulty monitor screen, splits like your two
selves, both screaming in opposite directions for release. You force your eyes
open to see Cronus grimacing, sweat on his brow while he tries not to break his
intense gaze on your combined bulges, making sure neither slips free from his
quickening hand. He always gets so into this, you think it's weird but right
now you couldn't care less. You can't remember the last time this felt so good.
Your hips continue to thrust up and down in time with his strokes and you
realize you've been moaning loudly for the last several minutes. With one final
tug, you both come together. Your hips freeze in midair and your toes curl in
tightly on themselves. Warm genetic material spills from your bulges and mixes
below you into a disgustingly colorful display of bright colors. Cronus throws
back his head and lets out a long gurgled groan as he comes. You bite your lip
to suppress your ecstasy. You draw blood but at least you don't look like a
complete idiot. The gushing of fluids comes to an end and Cronus lets go,
falling down to lie beside you. Your bulge is suddenly cold and an anxious
nagging feeling is clawing a pit in your stomach.
You ignore it.
Instead you turn to Cronus, who is breathing heavily next to you. His grimace
has been replaced by another stupid, overdone grin. What a piece of shit. "Good
jam," he pants out, "vworked through a lot of stress vwith that one." You grunt
a response and turn your head away from him, instead choosing to focus on
beating away the sick feeling growing inside you. You feel Cronus shift his
weight and realize you have to partake in the talky part now. You sigh
internally and switch over to lying on your side, facing your moirail. He now
wears a soft expression on his face, he smiles like a true fucking friend and
despite your best efforts the clawing pit of anxiety finds its way back to you.
"Vwhat's up?" You don't answer, just let out a puff of air and fall on your
face, arm now rubbing up against his chest. He stretches one arm over you and
begins to rub your back soothingly. You just groan in frustration.
"7H3R35 7H15 G1RL," Cronus's massaging pauses for the briefest of moments, then
continues. You can tell he's smiling without looking.
"Black?"
You think for a moment, trying to fit her she-devil powers over you into a
quadrant. "R3D...1 GU355."
Cronus chuckles softly and you just know he's got another of his shit eating
grins on. "Lucky girl, vwhat's her name?"
"L47UL4."
"Hawve you ewven talked to her yet?"
"Y35," you're indignant, "50R7 0F." You're embarrassed. You've been going to
the skate park every night, all night, for weeks just to figure out her
schedule. As far as you can tell she doesn't have one. You've talked to her
once, to ask what fucking time it was. She didn't know, you thanked her anyway.
You are just all kinds of stupid today, aren't you?
You're still thinking up insults for yourself when Cronus does the unthinkable,
the closest to a real bona fide shoosh-pap he'll ever get. He hugs you--drapes
his body to lie flatly on top of yours. He's still naked. And sweaty. You feel
his half interested bulge slick up against your ass.
Nope.
"G37 7H3 FUCK 0FF M3!!" Cronus just laughs at you, tightening his arms around
your waist as you struggle against him. Try as you might, the other troll is
too big and too heavy for you to shake off with your slim frame.
Good thing you pack a bigger punch than just your scrawny body. Your girlish
screaming loses coherency and becomes a verbal keyboard mash as you flare up
your psionics. Red and blue static bolts engulf the other troll and throw him
about a foot directly upwards. You roll away before letting him drop heavily
onto the pile of fabrics. He grunts on impact and is still for a moment. He
starts shaking. Just when you think you've gone and pissed him off, that he's
about to leap up and strangle you, you hear him laugh.
"You little shit." His laughter grows to a roar and he's doubled over in tears.
At first you don't understand but you find yourself laughing too. Despite all
his obnoxious mannerisms, Cronus really is the best moirail you could ask for,
even if you can't comprehend why sometimes. He just feels right.
***** Chapter 2 *****
You wake up late the next day. Your back hurts and your shoulder aches from
sleeping on it wrong. Well, dumbass, that's what you get for sleeping for 15
hours straight on a pile of fucking jackets. But it was either that or share a
recuperacoon with Cronus and you'd rather go and burn up in the sunlight than
do that. No seriously, the horrible tortures and thousand deaths you would
rather endure than share a smelly goo bed with that miserable, creepy--
Oh my fucking god.
You think you're black for Cronus.
You are not in the mood for this shit, you have enough crap rattling around
your already broken mind, you don't need to add hatesprit problems to your
plate. Hatesprit. You think you're really fucking clever, don't you? Just go to
the fucking skate park already and get on with your hopeless romantic stalking.
You do just that.
Fuck, Cronus says he's coming with you. No, no, nO NO--FUCK. Dammit. He's
grinning like a moron again. This asshole. This fucking asshole. You would be
so lost without him and you know it. Bastard never loses his cool. He'll hit on
all the ladies and feel up all the gents, and he never gets discouraged ever.
EVER. HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE? You're flushed hard for just one girl and,
yeah you asked her the time once but, JEGUS HELP YOU IF YOU ACTUALLY TALK TO
HER. She's going to shoot your sorry ass down and you're never going to want to
do anything ever again. You want to just die now, it would be less painful.
Fortunately for you, it seems your moirail has a plan. An especially shitty
plan.
You arrive at the skate park and immediately you see her, grinding across the
longest edge of the bowl, like an angel walking on water. Your knees turn to
gelatinous confection and your blood pusher goes crazy. There are fluttering
bugs in your stomach and an amphibian in your throat. She is far too rad for
your shitty self, what even were you thinking? Turn around now while you still
can.
"Get ready" Or not. Cronus shoves your skateboard into your hands. He was
carrying it? Fuck, why weren't you carrying it? Oh my fucking god, did you
really leave the hive without your board? DAMMIT CRONUS, STOP BEING SUCH A GOOD
MOIRAIL. You wonder what you're supposed to be getting ready for when you see
him pick up a fistful of gravel from the ground. What? What is he...He throws
them into the bowl.
You flip the fuck out.
"WH47 7H3 FUCK 4R3 Y0U D01NG?? 4R3 Y0U 1N54N3!!?" Latula is headed towards the
trap, completely oblivious.
"Be the knight." Cronus laughs, slaps your back, and walks away.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK. You're halfway down the side of the bowl
before your feet actually connect with your board. That lousy no good son of a-
-THIS was his plan? Make you save her from a potentially fatal wipe out? YOU
TAKE BACK EVERYTHING YOU SAID ABOUT HIM BEING A GOOD MOIRA--
You fucking idiot, you just ran over the gravel.
The small rocks get caught in your wheels and jam them, bringing your board to
a halt but sending you flying forward, head first. Your skull is about to bust
open on concrete. Why don't you wear a helmet, are you fucking retarded? You
close your eyes and wait for the end.
When you are met not with the cold indifference of the bone shattering ground
but the warmth and softness of breasts, you get confused. Open your eyes, you
idiot. You really don't want to.
You do anyway. Someone's arms are wrapped around you. You look up. Oh hey, it's
Latula. She’s smiling at you, holding you awkwardly and keeping you from
falling over, apparently not giving two shits that the lower half of your face
is squished against her boobs. "Who4, th4t could'v3 b33n on3 H3LL4 n4sty
cr4sh." Her smile widens.
She caught you. She fucking caught you. You fucking IDIOT, you don't look brave
or heroic or hell even just lucky with a dash of charmingly handsome. You just
look like the loser noob who can't fucking do anything right. You have never
been more embarrassed in your entire life. You don't wish you were dead, you
wish you never existed.
And yet you don't move. Are you paralyzed with fear or are you really enjoying
getting a mouthful of tits, you sick bastard?
Tits. OH GOD TITS. You scramble to your feet and push her away, face on fire.
Your face. Was on her chest. For a full minute. The fire in your face is now in
your loins. You are a sick pervert but jegus fuck you had your face on her tits
for a full minute. You can die happy now and holy fuck she's giggling at you.
"you 4lr1ght dud3?" No, you really aren't. But yes, you really are. "1'v3 s33n
you 4round b3for3, n3v3r s33n you w1p3 out th4t b4d though. 1s 3v3eyth1ng
ok4y?" HOLY SHIT SHE'S SEEN YOU BEFORE. She's noticed you. Well of course she's
noticed you, you've practically been stalking her for weeks. Does being in the
same place of recreation count as stalking? It's not like you took up this
apparently hazardous hobby just for her sake. You know what? For all she knows
you just really fucking love to skate. She probably has no idea that, yeah you
love this shit, but you kind of love her mo--
Oh fuck she asked you a question, didn't she?
You spew incoherent nonsense. Fuck, you IDIOT! She's talking to you, SHE'S
REALLY TALKING TO YOU, and you're off in your own damn world thinking about
four-wheeled riding devices. You ask yourself for the thousandth time, WHAT is
wrong with you?? "50RRY" you manage to splutter out finally. She laughs at you
again. That was a snort. Holy fuck she snorted, she is just the cutest. Aw
fuck, you're smiling like an idiot.
She reaches her hand out to you. "my n4m3's l4tul4." Your hand is shaking but
you take hers anyway. She flings your arm up and down haphazardly like an over
energetic child. She is just too much. Your smile gets bigger and stupider.
"M1TUN4" Shit, say something else, stupid. "1, UM, 7H4NK5 F0R, UH, C47CH1NG
M3." No, say something, YOU ARE STUPID, not say something that is stupid.
Moron.
"no probz" She lets go of your hand. Your shoulder hurts but you ignore it. "do
you com3 h3r3 4 lot?"
"L1K3 3V3RY D4Y" You conveniently leave out the part about stalking her.
"R4D!" Wow that was loud. "1 w1sh 1 could too, but my h1v3 is too f4r 4w4y. 1
c4n only g3t out m4yb3 onc3 or tw1c3 a w33k."
And now you have a vague idea of her schedule. Success. Wait, no, stop acting
like a creeper, god dammit! "UH" Shit, say something clever! Something
interesting! Anything that won't make you look like a giant motherfucking dork-
-"D0 Y0U L1K3 V1D30 G4M35?"--you giant motherfucking dork.
Wait, hold on, her face is lighting up. "OMG 1 loooooooov3 m3 som3 v1g33
g4m3z!!" Holy fuck, is SHE a giant motherfucking dork?
"7R0LL73ND0?" you ask hesitantly, overwhelmed by her excitement and trying to
contain your own.
She gasps sharply. "L3G3ND OF TROLLD4?"
"7R0LL10 K4R7?"
"SUP3R SM4SH TROLLS?"
"F1DU5P4WN?"
"OH MY GOD!!!" You're screaming together. You think you two just became best
friends.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Your name is Mituna Captor and you are the happiest fucking troll on all of
Beforus. For a half a dozen weeks you've been meeting up with Latula at the
skate park and practicing your radical skillz together, and on the days she
can't make it, you travel the fair distance to her hive. You two haven't been
apart for more than three days since you started hanging out, and even then
when you saw her again there were a lot of shitty sentiments and crocodile
tears to be had.
Those three days were the hardest three days you can remember. Cronus kept
calling you a little bitch when you refused to hang out with him and he got so
upset when you wouldn't jam about your feelings that he nearly kicked you out
of his hive midday. You were a mopey, whiny mess. Your blood pusher ached, you
had no appetite, and every other word out of your mouth was Latula. To say you
are obsessed with her is an understatement. You can't remember life without her
and you don't want to imagine it either. She became your everything and you
like to think that you’re hers, too.
You should probably talk to her about it though.
Yes, as it stands you two are only 'good friends,' a phrase that depresses you
a great deal when you think about it. But you really click when you're
together, it just feels so natural and right and you are so fucking sure that
she feels the same way that you think the reason neither of you have said
anything yet is because you both sort of assume it doesn't need to be said.
For example, it was just a few days ago that you were joking about...something.
Crap you can't remember what, all you remember is the way her eyes sparkled
with mischief. She was saying something about something, and of course you made
a dirty joke about it, and then one thing led to another and suddenly you're
both seriously discussing the logistics of friends with benefits. Not rails
with pails, like with Cronus, just full out why-the-fuck-not getting your rocks
off.
So here you are, in a rather secluded alley near the park, nervously tapping
your fingers against a wall, waiting for her to show up. You really hope that
she wasn't just joking around, because seriously? You might die of
embarrassment if she just brushes this off. Oh look, here she is now.
She's running towards you, board under one arm and waving the other wildly. You
raise your hand a bit to give a small return wave. A smile curls across your
lips exposing your sharp, jagged teeth. Shit, you think you're blushing
already. Okay, be cool. You got this. You totally got this.
Before she can ask you what's up like she always does, you show her the coin in
your other hand. Your smile becomes a bit sheepish and you avert your eyes from
hers. She blinks twice and then laughs.
"4w m4n, no w4y!" Your heart sinks. "you tot4lly r3m3mb3r3d!" Your heart
flutters. She laughs again, with a hint of a snort. Fuckin' precious. "1 w4s
worr13d you thought 1 w4s jok1ng." You shake your head, pushing off from where
you were leaning against the wall and taking a step towards her.
"Y0U 5UR3 Y0U W4NN4 D0 7H15?" You want to be absolutely sure. The last thing
you want is to scare her away.
She's grinning. "1'm sur3 1f you'r3 sur3!" You grin back and toss the coin. You
slap it against the back of your hand, keeping it covered with the other. You
look up at her expectantly. She screws up her face a bit while she thinks a
moment. Your blood pusher speeds up just looking at her and you think how
fucking cute her nose is when it wrinkles like that. "t41ls." Oh shit, right,
focus, you're in the middle of something important. You move your hand away to
reveal the coin flip.
Heads.
You can't help but feel a bit disappointed. You pocket the coin and look up at
her. Shit, this is suddenly really awkward. "50 UM... 1 GU355..." Fuck, no,
stop it. Don't do this, you idiot, don't be that weird creepy fucker.
Just...FUCK, just get on with it! It was pure chance! ARGH, why didn't you
account for winning the coin toss??
"ok4y w3ll," she steps up to you, your noses are barely an inch apart. You
start panicking that she can hear just how loud and fast your pusher is going
and how much of a creeper you are with your hard breathing. You swallow
nothing, nothing really loudly. She just smiles at you, wrapping an arm around
your shoulder. You involuntarily place both your hands on her waist. "r3l4x,
dud3." She winks. You think your pusher is about to explode.
Without another word she slips her other hand down your chest, gliding lightly
all the way down to your pants. You shudder, face on fire and sweat already
beading on your neck. You try to look anywhere but her face and whatever it is
her hand is doing. You opt for her shoulder. God, you must look like such an
idiot right now. You close your eyes and bite your lip. You wanted to be so
cool for this, you really did.
Her hand works its magic, gracefully undoing your zipper and pushing your pants
and underwear out of the way. Fuck, this is it. You crack one eye open and dare
to look at her face. She's blushing just as badly as you are, biting her lip.
Her eyes are focused on her work and she just looks so...
beautiful.
You melt a little bit and your bulge curls out of its sleeping place. It rolls
into her open hand. She closes her fingers around it lightly and gently slides
them out and over the tip. You gasp sharply, hands tightening on her waist. For
all the times you fantasized about what it'd feel like for her to...well you're
just overjoyed that it feels a million fucking times better than you had hoped.
You peel your eyes open again and force yourself to watch her expressions. She
seems a bit taken aback by your vocalness. Shit. You try your best to keep
quiet as she strokes you again and again but you can't help the little gasps
and moans from passing over your lips. Your arms begin to shake a bit and
you're rocking your hips in time with her hand.
No, fuck, no, dammit. She's growing visibly more uncomfortable. You decide not
to hold back. You allow her fingers to slip past your tip once more but then
quickly push her hand away with your own. You concentrate on that feeling, on
her nearness, and you cover your bulge with your hand, angling it away from her
as you come. She doesn't move away and her other hand never leaves your
shoulder. You're grateful for that.
You try to be done as quickly as possible, but your orgasm hits you full force,
making you shudder from head to toe. You realize you've been holding your
breath and quickly gasp for air. Before you can make an even bigger fool of
yourself, you stuff your bulge back into your pants, ignoring how sensitive it
still is. You try to zip up your pants as fast as you can and regain composure.
You look back up at Latula to see her wearing an expression of surprise and
confusion. "50RRY" you manage but mentally kick yourself. That didn't really
last all that long and now you're afraid she'll think you've got a short
trigger. "1 UM--"
"1t's cool." She shakes her head a bit and replaces her befuddlement with a
smile.
You smile back, reminding yourself how lucky you are to have her. "W4NNA G0 H17
7H3 H4LFP1P3?"
"tot3z!" She's grinning now. She picks up her board and races you out of the
alley. You feel a little bad for that embarrassing performance and hope she's
okay. You think it best not to ask for now. You'll bring it up tomorrow when
it's time to flip the coin again.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Next day, same alley. You’re even more nervous than the first time even though
you're prepared this time. You try your best to control your breathing and not
fidget so much. You've long since given up the battle of making your pusher
calm the fuck down though. You're worried she won't show up. You're worried
your shitty performance scared her off. You're worried she'll think you're a
freak, a loser, she'll never want to see you aga--
"h3y!"
Holy crap she's here. You try to swallow and wave to her, but a lump catches in
your throat and your whole arm is shaking too much to even move it an inch. Oh
god you're a wreck, and that's when you notice. Latula is coming towards you at
a god awful sluggish pace, her fingers curled around the edge of her board,
holding it across her thighs, but when she moves it away--holy shit, when she
moves it away you see she's wearing a skirt.
She's wearing. A goddamn. Skirt.
She's hoping to win the coin toss, she's not scared away, she's looking forward
to it, and jegus that lump finally goes down and you can breathe again. Your
pusher is still going mad but it's a bearable fluttering now. She's expecting
to be taken care of and you don't plan on disappointing her. She sets her board
down next to yours and comes a few steps closer, smiling nervously and
anxiously playing with the hem of her skirt. You are so ready for this.
"741L5?" She nods a little too much and a little too quickly, showing her
anticipation. She's biting her lip, a light blush tinting her cheeks and you
can't help but stare. Is it possible that she actually gets more beautiful each
time you see her? Wait, no, dammit, focus. Why are you so bad at focusing? Flip
the fucking coin already.
You do. Latula jams her eyes shut and cross her fingers. You take the
opportunity to cheat. You squint at the coin as it falls, giving it just a
little psionic push, just to be absolutely sure it lands how you want it. It
hits the back of your hand and you slap the other on top. Latula peaks one eye
open. You are surprisingly calm. You smile warmly at her and move your hand
away. Tails. She lights up and you see her hands start to tremble again. Wow
your chest is warm all of a sudden. You ignore it even though it feels so good
because right now, right now it's not about you feeling good it's about HER
feeling good and goddamn are you ready to make her feel good.
There's an awkward pause while neither of you move. Weren't you just saying
you're ready for this? Carefully, you beckon for her to come closer. She does.
You turn the both of you around so she's between you and the wall. You're not
entirely sure how to start this so you just...go for it. And you hug her. She
seems taken aback momentarily. Her chin fits nicely on your shoulder and after
a moment she reaches her arms up and grips the back of your shirt. Shit wow
your chest is on fire, what the hell?
You continue to ignore it. It's now or never. You slide one hand down to her
thigh, right to the edge of her skirt. You smile as you find the top of
stockings, as if she was trying to pretend she was wearing tights instead.
Tights are rad, stockings are not. But tights are way too much trouble for what
she was planning on doing with you, yet still didn’t want to let on how much
she wants it. Fuck, she is just too much. You think you're smiling too hard--
your cheeks hurt.
Without another second wasted you slide your hand under her skirt and catch the
band of her panties with your thumb, pulling on them just enough to get your
hand in, palm right up against her. She gasped quietly in your ear and clutches
at your shirt a bit more. Your chest hurts so badly now it's getting hard to
ignore. You swipe your thumb across her bulge, already protruding a bit. She
breathes out heavily and you're pretty sure there was a moan in there
somewhere. But don't get distracted. No, focus on your goal.
Your fingers continue down until the very tip of the middle one is against her
nook. Her bugle has curled out and you wrap your thumb around the base, giving
it a few short strokes. She's calmed down, let up on your shirt and is
breathing steadily, right on your neck. You savor the moment, even going as far
as to stop ignoring the twisting pains in your chest. You go for it.
Your finger slips into her, curled nicely against her bugle as you do. Her gasp
is loud and shuddering and she's able to choke out the first half of your name
before she moans, just moans, pressing her body into yours. She pulls at your
shirt, nearly tearing it as you work you finger in and out of her, slowly at
first, each movement taking your thumb over her bulge as well. You let her get
used to it before you add a second finger, going a little faster now.
The noises she makes are unbearable. She's moaning and gasping, rolling her
hips and her head, squirming under your hand, fucking loving every second of
it. Your unoccupied hand holds her close, making sure she's able to keep her
balance when her knees start shaking. After a minute or so of this torture you
push in a third finger and wrap your pinky around to meet your thumb on her
bulge, creating a firmer grip on it. You work her so fast and so hard she's
practically screaming as your knuckles bump up against her.
Her twisting hands have pulled your shirt down and her open mouth keeps passing
over your bare shoulder. You suppress a moan of your own every time you can
feel her lips, her hot, wet mouth contact your skin. Her thighs are shaking and
you're basically holding her up. Your face burns, your chest burns, you can
even feel your own bugles wanting to get in on the action. Latula starts
whining.
"175 0K4Y" you mutter, not realizing your voice would be so raspy. She seems to
hover a moment before latching her mouth onto your shoulder, biting down hard.
Okay, you couldn't help but moan at that. Her nails are digging into your back
and her teeth are in your shoulder and god DAMN does it feel amazing. Both your
bugles are squirming around in your pants, curling around each other
incessantly, wanting their own release. You're thankful Latula is nowhere near
your crotch to be able to feel them.
You decide to finish this up, as much as you hate to. You pull out of her
completely, thumb and pinky almost sliding all the way off her bugle, and then
you push right back in. She moans/groans/screams/SOMETHING over your skin and
it just drives you wild. You can feel your own knees start to buckle holy shit
what is she doing to you?? You repeat the hand motion in quick succession and
before you know it, she's tightening around you.
She lets out one last long, shuddering, gasping moan, teeth lifting away from
your shoulder but tongue lapping at your collar bone. You feel warm genetic
material gush over your hand as she comes. You tighten your hold on her with
your other hand, keeping her close and steady. After a few moments, she seems
to come down, releasing your shirt, now stretched completely out of shape, from
her death grip, moving her mouth away from your shoulder to rest her forehead
there instead. She breathes deeply a few times, entire body rising and falling,
before she looks up at you. She's dazed, whole face covered ear-to-ear in a
teal blush. You just sort of stare dumbly at her, mouth slightly agape to match
hers, and that's when you do it. You look down, away from her clouded eyes to
her plush lips and your chest burns greater than it ever has before, tightens
unimaginably and your pusher sends an aching to your lips and you're
overwhelmed with one desire and one desire only.
Kiss her. Fucking hell, you want to kiss her, NEED to. You strain not to just
dive in and ravish her, but the urge is too great to hold back. Before you can
move though, she closes her mouth, pulls back a little, and runs her tongue
over her dry, sweet lips. You follow her, leaning in when she leans away and
groan deep in your throat at the sight of her tongue.
Latula puts both shaky hands on your shoulders and pushes, weakly, but you
easily comply, stepping back until you bump into the other side of the alley.
She's still breathing hard, eyes shut, resting against the wall opposite you.
Good, she's not looking. You grind the heel of your hand against your bulges,
trying your very best not to moan her name as you screw up your face. You slid
to the ground, legs spread. She does the same.
"wow" she pants out, laughing lightly over her heavy breaths.
"MMM" a laugh bubbles up in your throat and you can't help but smile. Your eyes
peel open sluggishly and fall to your hand, still covered in...well...wow. You
really want to taste that, taste her. You glance up cautiously to make sure
she's still not looking then you're plunging your fingers into your mouth. Your
eyes roll up and you tongue savors the flavor. Holy fucking hell, is there
anything about her that's not perfect? You feel a warmth spread around your
thighs as both your bulges--unable to handle it anymore--soak your pants with
your own genetics.
"you ok4y?" Shit, you must be moaning. You almost have a panic attack as your
eyes flash open to look at her. Her eyes are still closed though and you calm
down immediately.
"Y34H" you answer, throat suddenly very dry. "W45 17...0K4y?" You feel your
face flush with your own stupidity.
She just laughs in response. Seriously, that isn't making you feel any better.
After a few more minutes of just breathing and calming the fuck down, Latula
gets up and starts to clean herself off. You do the same. Bitch, you came
prepared for this shit. You change pants. Latula changes into pants. You're a
bit disappointed to see her skirt gone. She picks up her skateboard and just
sort of plays with one of the wheels for a moment.
"uh..." she's avoiding looking at you directly. Fuck, did you do something
wrong? Your chest tightens again. "c4n w3..." her sentence just sort of drifts
off when she looks at you, eyes glassy and face still flushed--she's still
trying to come down from her orgasm. The tightness in your chest warms over to
a burning. YOU did that to her. YOU made her feel that way, made her feel so
good she's lost for words. You'd smile at her if you weren't so busy being lost
in her expression, aka staring at her dumbly. "c4n w3...not sk4t3 tod4y?"
You shake yourself out of your trance, it takes another moment for her words to
register. You nod a little. "Y34H" you manage to crack a tiny smile "SUR3" She
gives you a wide smile which allows you to give a genuine one in return. You
step forward to her, narrowly avoiding the impulse to take her hand into your
own. "L375 G0 G37 50M37H1NG 5W337" You hate sweets. "H0W 480U7 W3 G37 50M3 1C3
CR34M" You don't have any money either. "W3 C4N DR0P 0UR 804RD5 0FF 47 CR0NU5'"
You can swipe some of his cash while you're at it.
She nods in response. "th4t sounds n1c3" Your smile widens as you both start
walking slowly to your moirail's hive. You glance over at Latula and are drawn
to her parted lips. Your heart aches again and you know in the back your mind
that you're going to be fighting the urge to kiss her every time you see her
from now on.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Lips. Lips and mouths and tongues and teeth are such evil, evil things. Evil
things that brand your heart with desire. You've forgotten how long this has
been going on now. Every day it's a coin flip, every day you cheat to please
her, but you occasionally have to let yourself win or else she might get
suspicious. Every day it's a constant struggle to keep your damn evil mouth off
of hers. Kissing and biting and licking, the thought of it twists your heart
and bulges in burning agony. But you don't touch her, you don't allow yourself
to. Oh sure, she can chomp on your shoulder all she wants when your fingers
conduct her into a symphony of split words, but god forbid you do the same.
It's not that you don't want to, FUCK, there's nothing in this world or the
next that you want more, but you're just friends.
Just.
Friends.
You both agreed to this finger fucking nonsense, it's entirely consensual, but
try to kiss her and you've crossed a line. Try to and she may never speak to
you again. The thought of losing her hurts more than fighting the urge to not
kiss her for three weeks straight. Or maybe it's been four? Or two. Fuck, maybe
it's only been an hour, you can't tell. Everything is lost in a haze of Latula.
Beautiful Latula, moaning in your ear, tugging at your bulge, taunting you with
her far too kissable lips...
She's standing in front of you again. She just sort of walks up to you and cups
you in her hand, giving you light squeeze. Her face is against your neck,
puffing warm air onto your bare skin. Apparently, it's your turn today. Did you
even flip the damn coin? You can't remember, not that it matters much at this
point. You fumble with your zipper as you shove your pants down. Keep your eyes
closed, don't look. Look and you'll be tempted and you're so, so tired of
fighting it. With a three fingered salute of honor, she strokes you a bit,
trying to get your bulge out. This is skill, complete mastery of the art of
lying. She still doesn't know about your second bulge. You're good.
You fall helplessly into her hand and she dances her fingers around you
lightly. You groan in your throat, still not looking, keeping your mouth just
as shut as your eyes. She's doing something different, though. Her fingers are
sliding too far down--they're right at your entrance about to slip in.
You panic. Your eyes shoot open and you grab her hand away a little too hard.
If you can't kiss her you sure as hell can't let her know about the twin freak
in your pants. She grunts under your grip and you immediately let go. She
stares at you a moment, something in her eyes that you can't quite peg but that
burrows a pit of ice in your stomach.
"L47UL4," before you can finish your apology she storms off, grabbing her board
as she leaves at a rushed walk. You try to call after her but your voice left
with her and your feet refuse to move. There's a burning in your eyes and a
stinging on your lip. A sharp pain makes its way to your attention.
Tears. Hot, bubbling, unending tears pour down your cheeks, your fangs biting
into your chapped lip, drawing blood. You're choking back sobs as best as you
can, but after a moment it registers that you threw your head back against the
brick wall. You think you feel blood tangling in your hair and you can't hold
it in anymore. You let out a sob, more like a loud cry. Gross and gurgling over
your snotty, tear-stained face. You sink to the ground and just bury your head
in your hands, tugging harshly at your hair nearly ripping it out by the roots.
You fucked up. You fucked up bad. The glare she gave you, that look you can't
recognize, is burned into your retinas, shaming you even when you close your
eyes. You really fucked up and you don't know what to do. So you just sit
there, crying. For hours. About a half hour after sunrise Cronus finds you.
He's toting around some dumbass parasol to shade him from the sun. He drags you
back to his hive where you proceed to curl up like a pathetic wiggler on his
floor. He doesn't say anything to you. In fact, he leaves the room entirely and
doesn't come back. You wonder where his pile of coats went, the one you two
used to use for feelings jams. You try to think when the last time you saw him
was and it strikes you that it was long before you started this stupid game
with Latula.
You broke up with your moirail and you didn't even realize it. You cry harder.
Around nightfall you finally get up. You couldn't sleep anyway. Your eyes hurt
and your throat burns with thirst. You go looking for Cronus and eventually
find him in his study. You give the door a feeble knock. When he doesn't
acknowledge you, you mumble an apology and a thank you. He tells you to get
out, so you just go.
You are a festering pile of shit, the scum of this planet and any other planets
that may be out there. You're a pussy too. You can't stop fucking crying. You
are such a goddamn screw up you don't know what to do with yourself. Your
shuffling feet take you back to the skate park, to the alley you know so well.
She's not there, why would she be? You wait for her anyway. When she doesn't
show up after a few hours you go out to the park to watch the other skaters,
hoping she'd turn up. She never does. In fact, you don't see a single sign of
her for two weeks. Two very painful weeks of wrestling with the idea of seeking
her out at her hive, of waiting up until dawn every day holding out hope, of
not sleeping more than an hour a night as guilt and regret eat away at your
soul. You feel empty, alone, and afraid. You just want to see Latula, but you
have no idea what you'd even say to her. Then, after a fortnight, she appears
again.
You're on your way to the park when you see her walking down the street hand-
in-hand with another troll. Some douchebag shrimp with nubby horns and a
godawful bright red sweater. He looks like a tool, and he has the audacity to
plant a kiss on your Latula's cheek, right in front of you, in broad moonlight
for the entire fucking world to see. But what's worse, what really gets you, is
that she smiles. She's giggling and pushing him away playfully, doing all the
same things she used to do for you but she looks happy. So fucking happy. You
can't remember the last time you saw her like this, and it kills you. And then
she turns to this asshat and he kisses her. Kisses her on the lips and
something inside you breaks and before you know it you're flying at him, feet
barely contacting the ground.
"H3Y!" you scream as you rush him, tackling him to the ground. Latula screams
"k4nkr1" and you know what to call him as you proceed to bash his face in. Not
that you can get two words out, you're so fucking angry all you can do is throw
punches. You can't even hear Latula's screaming over the ringing of your rage
in your ears. This skinny little fuck is tougher than he looks though. Kankri
knees you in the stomach and you fall off him, allowing him to free himself and
turn the tables on you. You're down and he's kicking you in the ribs and you
don't even care. You want this, you just want to die. Just let him kill you and
get it over with. He kicks you in the chin and the force of it on your jaw
pierces your teeth through your tongue. You get even more pissed off and decide
to teach him a lesson.
The air crackles as you flare up your psionics, red and blue sparks fly
everywhere as you lift yourself off the ground and prepare to rip this asshole
to shreds. "WH9 ARE Y9U?" he demands, yelling over the static. You open your
mouth to scream back but stop when you can't answer him. What are you to
Latula? You're not her lover or her friend, you're not her anything. You're
just a screw up and she made it very clear that's she's done with you. Your
powers fizzle out and your feet touch down again. "1'M," you can't meet his
eyes. You're reeling, still trying to justify yourself but nothing is coming to
you. "1'M..." You're nothing, you have no right, no say. If Latula picked this
fucktard over you, there's nothing you can do about it. You feel like dying
again.
"k4nkr1, 4r3 you 4lr1ght?" she's rushing to him, cradling his bruised face in
her hands. You feel tears stinging at your eyes as you wish she'd hold you like
that.
"Seri9usly, wh9 ARE y9u?" He's glaring up at you again, Latula's also turned
toward you now and her glare cuts like daggers and you realize he really
doesn't know who you are because Latula never mentioned you to him. All that
time you two were...together, and she never once bothered to mention you to her
new whatever. Your want to die has become an overpowering need. You're about to
leave when Kankri yells something at you. The words don't register with your
brain but the message is clear: he's a little shit and he doesn't fucking
deserve her.
You turn swiftly and snatch him up by the collar of his ugly red sweater. He's
so fucking short. As you lift him up, his feet barely touch the ground. "574Y
4W4Y FR0M H3R." you growl. He tries to give you a snarky grin in return but is
too obviously scared of you to make it work. "Y0U 4ND Y0UR NUBBY L177L3 H0RN5
4R3N'7 G00D 3N0UGH F0R H3R."
"9h yeah? And what makes y9u s9 special, huh? What's s9 great a6out y0ur nasty
p9inty h9rns?" He’s grasping at straws, trying his best to squirm out of your
grip, hoping that pissing you off would give him a better chance.
It's not working, though. You snort at him and lean in close. "7W05. 7W0 0F
34CH H0RN. 7W0 0F 3V3RY7H1NG, B17CH." You stick out your tongue for him,
hissing like a slither beast as you show off the fork in it. He quickly
understands. Kankri's eyes widen and he falters backwards when you drop him.
He scrambles back to Latula. Your victory falls short when you look at her.
She's glaring at you, unwaveringly and intensely, still that something in her
eyes that you can't put words to. It shakes you, you feel your victory is
actually a loss and you feel worse than ever when she leads Kankri away with an
arm over his shoulder. Before they go completely, she turns back to you and
hisses, "don't 3v3r com3 n34r m3 4g41n." and then she's gone.
You stand planted to the spot, dumbfounded, trying to process what just
happened. When it all finally sinks in you feel completely numb. No pain, no
heartache, no guilt, nothing. Just lots and lots of nothing. You don't know
what to say or do. You can't even bring yourself to move. The only thing on
your mind is the need to either die horribly or apologize.
You think you'll apologize to Latula and then kill yourself.
Chapter End Notes
     We're pretending this is before Kankri is all high and mighty with
     his social justice thing and is just short-fused and angry like
     Karkat used to be.
***** Chapter 6 *****
You don't waste any time. Actually you waste plenty of time. You head straight
to Latula's hive, even knowing that she's out with Kankri still, but you make
your way at a knuckle-dragging pace. A trip that should’ve taken you an hour
and a half takes you five. It's not dawn yet, but it's getting close. You kind
of wish you had stolen Cronus' stupid umbrella--you get the feeling you'll be
walking back home soon enough because after you're done groveling for the girl
of your dreams there's no way she'd let you stay anywhere near her hive to wait
out the day. You know what, no. This is actually a blessing in disguise. After
you're done groveling for the girl of your dreams you can go burn up in the
blaze of the hot sun, just like you deserve. Perfect, yes, this is a solid
plan. It's not like anyone will miss you.
Your thoughts of completely foolproof suicide plans are cut short as you notice
you've finally reached your destination. You strain your neck looking to the
top of her hive. It's large and intimidating, not as much as the higher bloods'
hives, but one befitting her mid-blood status. And thank god it looks like
dragon mom is out. Then again, she could've probably eaten you afterwards.
Damn. Why is dragon mom out?
With a deep sigh and an overwhelming sense of resignation, you knock on her
door. You hold your breath and wait, but you can't hear anything beyond the
white wood. Maybe she's still out with Kankri. The thought sickens you and you
hope beyond hope that it's not true as you knock again, louder this time. Your
knuckles hurt.
Lucky for you, you hear footsteps on the other side. Good for you, you get to
have your heart ripped out again today after all. Latula throws the door open
with her usual amount of excitement, but every feature on her face falls when
she sees it's you. You can't look at her, your gaze is downcast and you shuffle
awkwardly trying to come up with something to say to her. Maybe you should've
been practicing your apology rather than the ways you could die.
She tries to slam the door in your face but you're at least quick enough to
throw out your hand with a rushed "W417!" She succeeds in crushing your hand
with the door. You squeak at the pain but resist showing her any signs that
that hurt like fuck ow god jegus. She hesitantly opens the door again. "wh4t do
YOU w4nt?" she spits it out like an insult.
"1 JU57," you start but can't find the next words. You thought you would be
numb, dead inside--that this would be easy but it isn't. Her eyes unwaveringly
glare at you and it makes your hair stand on end. Her lips are halfway to a
snarl, and god help you but you still ache to kiss them. You don't love her any
less and it's killing you. "1 W4N7 70 4P0L0G1Z3." you finally manage. She
doesn't look at all impressed.
"for wh4t?" she demands.
You falter. "F0R..." For beating up Kankri? For hurting her? For pushing her
away? For starting this whole mess in the first place? For even just coming
here?? "F0R 3V3RY7H1NG." Good, cover your bases. It's not like it's untrue. The
amount that you fuck up is staggering. You might as while apologize for
existing while you're at it.
She huffs out an angry breath, says "no," and tries to close the door on you
again. You're able to get your foot in there this time. It doesn't hurt any
less than your hand.
"L47UL4, PL3453." There's desperation in your voice as you try to pry the door
back open. It's Latula's turn to falter this time because for just a second you
could've sworn that odd look in her eyes changed to something more like
longing.
"f1n3," she relents, releasing your foot, "but m4k3 1t qu1ck." She starts to
walk away, letting the door fall open behind her. Your follow her all the way
to her room where she spins around to glare at you some more, leaning against
the arm of the couch. "W3LL?" You don't think she meant to shout but she did.
You flinch, her patience clearing wearing thin.
"1'M 50RRY," it takes you a moment to get it out and when you do Latula's gaze
only harshens.
"th4t's 1t?" she barks.
You flinch again. "1'M 50RRY. I'M 5ORRY F0R 831NG 4N A55H0L3 AND 1'M 50RRY F0R
K1CK1NG 7H47 J3RK'5 455. 4ND 1'M 50RRY F0R...F0R 4LL 7H3 W4Y5 1'V3 WR0NG3D
Y0U."
She scoffs at you, crossing her arms and rolling her whole head with her eyes,
a sickened mock smile tugging at her lips. “1 don’t b3l13ve you.”
You throw your hands up, lost for words. “1 541D 1’M 50RRY WH47 M0R3 D0 Y0U
W4N7?” You’re starting to get indignant. You thought she’d just be angry and
disappointed in you, not…sassy. “1 F33L FUCK1NG 4WFUL. 1 N3V3R M34N7 70 HUR7
Y0U, 1 N3V3R M34N7 F0R 4NY 0F 7H1570 H4PP3N.”
“4ny of wh4t?” she demands. “4ny of th3 t1m3s w3 scr3w3d 4round? Or hung out?
d1d you 3v3r 3v3n w4nt to b3 my fr13nd?” She’s practically screaming and it’s
making your blood boil.
“0F C0UR53 1 W4N73D 70 83 Y0UR FR13ND! 4ND 1 W4N73D…1 W4N73D 70 5CR3W 4R0UND
W17H Y0U 700. 1 D0N’7 UND3R574ND WHY Y0U’R3 831NG 50 D1FF1CUL7!” You’re
frustrated. This isn’t what you were expecting at all and now you’re flying by
the seat of your ass in an argument you don’t really want to be having. Hasn’t
she beaten you up enough? Why can’t you just deliver a goddamn heartfelt
apology and go die? She’s adding insult to injury and you never pegged her for
the vindictive type.
“oh, 1’M b31ng d1ff1cult?” she’s downright appalled. “1’m not th3 on3 who
fuck1ng r4n out on m3!”
“Y0U R4N 0U7 0N M3!”
“W3LL YOU FUCK1NG STOPP3D M3 1N TH3 F1RST PL4C3.”
“Y0U W3R3 G3771NG 700 CL053 70—” Shit, abort man, abort. Don’t fall for it.
“too clos3? too clos3 to WH4T?” She pretty much punches her hips when she
replaces her fists on them. If it hurt, she’s not letting on.
“N3V3RM1ND.”
“no, go on. 1 w4nt to fuck1ng h34r it.” The sarcasm in her voice is rising.
“1 541D N3V3RM1ND.”
“STOP B31NG 4VO1D4NT.”
“1 4M N07 4V01D4N7!”
“l1k3 H3LL you’r3 not!”
“WH47’5 7H47 5UPP053D 70 M34N?”
“WH4T DO YOU FUCK1NG TH1NK?”
You groan and rub your temples. “L00K.” You didn’t come here to fight. “1
JU57…1 JU57 W4N7 70 M4K3 17 UP 70 Y0U 50M3H0W.” You came here to apologize
dammit.
“you c4n’t.” she says flatly.
You let out an exasperated sigh. “WHY N07?”
“you just C4N’T.”
“F0R FUCK’5 54K3 L47UL4, WH47 C4N 1 D0 50 Y0U’LL JU57 FUCK1NG 4CC3P7 MY
4POLOGY?” You’re shouting again.
“SUCK MY BULG3.” She spits out, sarcasm at an all-time high.
You know she’s joking, you know she is, but without thinking, without a
second's hesitation, you just sort of blurt "0K." and it takes you a good ten
seconds to realize you even did. You imagine that your expression is just as
dumb as Latula's right now.
She’s completed deflated. "...wh4t?" She's fumbling, sputtering, you can see
her trying to wrap her fucking head around your stupidity but you can't tell if
it's making her angrier or more incredulous. Probably both.
"0. K." You say it again, softer but with confidence this time. "1F 1 C4N D0
4NY7H1NG 70 M4K3 7H15 3V3N 4 L177L3 83773R..." Your face is on fire, god what
are you THINKING? Oh wait, there's you're fucking answer, YOU'RE NOT. But you
can't stand it. You've already lost her and you fucking know it, but you can't
stand to see her just slip through your fingers. If you could just…make things
normal again, well as normal as they ever fucking were, just for a minute…maybe
you could get through to her. And no matter how much you just want to get this
apology over with, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to stay with her even just a
bit longer. If there's one thing that hurts more than fighting your stupid
urges when she's with you it’s being without her completely.
Oh fuck, she's scowling at you. Shit, she's scary. Hold your fucking ground,
though. Don't be scared off now. Even if she decides to beat the crap out of
you, at least you'll get to have her sweet hands on you again.
Oh GOD, you're pathetic.
"f1n3."
Wait, what? Yes, good, stare at her some more, you idiot. That'll solve
everything. "HUH?"
"1 s41d F1N3." Damn she's loud. And angry. Shit, you don't think you've ever
her seen this pissed before. Or ever, actually. It makes your pusher all
twisty, like you have to vomit. "1f you R34LLY w4nt to m4k3 1t up to m3, th3n
f1n3." She's still scowling but she’s blushing too. Holy crap, is this really
happening? Just...quit thinking about it and do it! That's your problem, you
think too much! Or not enough. It's both, really. It's always fucking both with
you.
You take a tentative step forward. "W3LL??" she screeches, fists balled and
planted firmly on her hips still. You swallow hard. You're definitely doing
this. If you don't, she's just going to hate you even more. You stand in front
of her, almost nose to nose. She's still glaring daggers at you, face the shade
of the goddamn ocean. That all too familiar ache catches up with you again,
demanding that your lips tell hers what for. The thought of doing that now
makes you want to cry, though. You've already angered her this much, you don't
need to add to it. Just do what you fucking said you would. It's not like it'll
help. She's still going to hate you when you're done. She's still never going
to talk to you again.
You're suddenly very calm. Or maybe hollow is a better word. You see yourself
putting your hands on her hips, lead her backwards until the back of her knees
bump up against her tattered old couch, the one you two used to play video
games on. It's almost like you're not you. You see it all happening, but you're
dead inside. It doesn't matter, none of it fucking matters but if it'll please
your Tulip...
She sinks onto the sofa, pulling you down with her. You drop to your knees and
just hover over her a moment. The scowl on her lips has turned into a nervous
line, unable to spit insults at you anymore. You should want to kiss her, tell
her it's alright, but you don't. Instead, you get on with your job and push her
shirt up and out of the way. She makes a small noise and squirms a bit before
settling back into place. You don't bother to look at her face. Your fingers
are curled around the hem of her pants, carefully tugging them down her thighs,
over her knees, laying them to rest on the floor. Her bulge is coming out,
already glistening a little. You wrap your arms under her legs, position them
on your shoulders, and get right up next to it. It suddenly dawns on you that
you have no idea what you're doing.
Oh well.
You open your mouth and usher in her bulge with your tongue, closing your lips
around it carefully, trying your best not to catch your jagged teeth on it. She
gasps sharply and tenses up, squeezing your head between her thighs. You think
you moan, breathing heavily through your nose. Slowly you take more of her in,
sliding down to the base. Once you have it all, you rest your forehead against
her skin, hair tinkling her stomach. Well fuck, now what? In your contemplation
you start stroking her thighs, finger nails lightly grazing the soft skin.
She's biting back moans, trying to keep her hips still. You glance up but all
you can see is the rise and fall of her breasts over her arched back. Your
pants start to feel too tight, but the want isn't there. You want to want it,
though. You don't understand why you don't. You shut your eyes and try to
imagine her lips, try to imagine that aching longing you used to hate to love.
You imagine what it'd be like to kiss her, and suddenly your lips and tongue
are moving and she's calling out, groaning. You open your eyes again and
realize you still have her bugle in your mouth and that it's caught between the
two sides of the fork in your tongue. Her hips are trembling and you get the
message that you should keep doing that.
You start bobbing your head on her, slowly, slipping your tongue over her at a
different pace, each side of the fork stroking her in the opposite direction.
She's outright moaning now, hips swaying in time with your head. When you try
to hold her down by digging your nails in, she just screams louder, bucking
upwards and pushing herself deeper down your throat. You feel her squirming
bulge tickle the back of your throat, and you try twisting your tongue around
it. You suck it gently then as hard as you can, eliciting even louder noises
from her. When you release it completely while dragging your tongue over it,
you steal another glance up at her. She's got her arms over her head, clutching
desperately at whatever she can get a fistful of, eyes jammed shut, mouth wide
open. Her bulge slips off your tongue and knocks against your chin. You stare
at her, mouth agape a moment. When she notices you've stopped your work she
open one eye and shoots you a glare. You cautiously try something new.
You move one hand off her thigh to capture her writhing bulge. She whines in
protest. You quickly move in, though. As your hand begins to pump her, you dart
your tongue into her nook. Lips pressed flush against her, you dive in as far
as you can, twisting the ends of your tongue in every direction, trying to hit
every spot within her. Her moans grow louder until her voice becomes your name
and suddenly you're aware that she's trying to put words together.
"tun4, 1..." she cuts herself off with another moan and a gasping breath. You
don't give her a second's rest, almost afraid of what she'll say. "1!" Her
words are lost again to the sounds of ecstasy as you bend your tongue upwards
and hit a spot in her. She lashes her hand out and grabs a fistful of your
hair, pulling you painfully away from your work. "1 w4nt you." she pants,
breathless and still seething. You blink twice in response. "1n m3." she tries
after a moment, face becoming more strained and no less aggravated.
Comprehension dawns on you and you stumble to your feet, battling with the
button on your pants. Latula takes the opportunity to sit up and pull her shirt
off. Oh. You guess this now a no-clothes party.
You pause halfway through undoing your pants to pull your shirt over your head.
Latula groans and kicks you in the stomach. Apparently your pants are a much
more pressing matter. You finally get them off, but you've got your hand
hovering above your crotch. This is it. There's no use trying to hide your
shitty secret anymore. You move your hand away, combing your fingers through
both your bulges, refusing to meet Latula's gaze. She moves back a bit.
"oh." Is that all she has to say? "so you w3r3n't just fuck1ng w1th h1m." It's
not a question. There's a sense of annoyance covering up the eagerness in her
voice. It's not a no, though, so you guess you're good to go.
She scoots farther up the couch to give you some room. You kneel before her,
pulling her thighs around your hips, and you hate yourself a little bit more
because it's exactly what Cronus used to do with you. Latula props herself up
on her elbows to watch as your bulges meet. One of yours curls itself around
hers, writhing in spirals. The other finds her nook and pushes in.
She hunches in over herself, biting her lower lip, trying with all her might
not to just lay back and take it. Every breath you take has become a moan. It’s
just too much for you, you can’t remain unaffected any longer. That old heat
bubbles up in your chest again and lights your heart on fire. You love her. You
love her with your entire being and it’s killing you to know this is the last
time you’ll ever be with her, in every sense of the word. You stay absolutely
still, just admiring her. The way her shoulders tremble, the way her hair falls
in curtains over her face, the way she holds her breath and only gasps for more
when one of your bulges gets her in a certain way. The feeling of taking her
over is almost too much for you, you wonder what it feels like for her. By the
erratic rising and falling of her chest you think she might be close, but she
lifts her head enough to meet your eyes and your stomach drops. She’s giving
you that glare again.
“wh4t th3 h3ll 4r3 you w41t1ng for? fuck m3 d4mm1t.” She finally slides back
down on the couch, unable to keep herself up any longer.
Half of you thinks it’s hot, the other half is terrified and unsure, but you
don’t want to see her get angry and start yelling at you again so you do as she
says. You carefully start to move in and out of her, forcing your other bulge
to unwind from hers slightly as you move away. Almost immediately she groans in
aggravation and yells, “f4st3r!”
You comply, picking up the pace. Her hips start rolling against yours and you
keep quickening your movements until she’s moaning in pleasure again. It’s
difficult to keep going at this speed, but you have to manage somehow. In the
middle of a dragged out moan she demands “h4rd3r” as well and against your
better judgment you start slamming into her. You don’t want to hurt her but the
new noises it elicits from her run shivers up your spine. Your back aches, you
can’t keep this up. You manage to keep your hips in motion but the rest of your
body falls over her, hands at either side of her head now. You keep your eyes
closed, concentrating on ramming into her without slowing. She reaches up and
digs her fingernails into your back, raking them down. It hurts like hell and
it feels like she might actually be drawing blood. You hiss in pain and open
your eyes.
Your heart breaks.
She’s giving you that look again, the one you couldn’t quite understand
earlier, but it’s all too clear now. It’s black, caliginous. It’s a lustful
hate clouding over her eyes, contracting her pupils, screaming into your soul
that she hates you. Hates you for all you’re worth, that what you’re doing now
is little more than a way for her to punish you.
This isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You feel tears burning on
your eyes and a sob choking your throat. You thought, maybe, she was the one.
The one to break the quadrants, make you feel everything all at once. You
thought you didn’t care about flushed or pale or caliginous. But you do. Turns
out, you care a lot. You thought having her in every quadrant would feel
different—better. That it’d be all affection and moonlight. But it’s not. It’s
heart-breaking and gut-wrenching. It’s making your tears spill over and fall on
her face, ruining her perfect teal blush with your ugly mustard sorrow. Your
breath hitches and suddenly you’re gasping for air between sobs, chest
spasming. You thought it’d be like finding a soul mate you could fight with and
be best friends with and make passionate love with, but it’s not. It’s knowing
that you have all this love for her and she has none of it for you, that she’d
like nothing more than to see you suffer. It’s knowing that you could never
possibly make her feel the same way for you as you do for her. And it’s knowing
that all of this, that’s destroying you from the inside out, would bring her
the greatest pleasure of all.
You break. Your hips are move sluggishly in the way that you can still keep
walking while having an emotional breakdown; slow and awkward and
uncoordinated. What’s the point now? What’s the point to anything? You have
nothing. Not even a moirail. Cronus will probably hate you almost as much as
Latula does for the rest of your life. So if there’s no point, and there’s
nothing left to lose…
You kiss her. You kiss her like you always wanted to. You press your lips hard
into hers, as hard as you can, deepening the kiss of hopeless desperation. You
think she’ll just punch you any minute now, but she doesn’t. Her nails let out
of your back and her soft hands lie flat on your skin, pulling you closer to
her. She returns the kiss. Her back arches, she’s grinding against you with her
whole body and one of her hands has shot up to tangle itself in your already
messy hair.
You can’t tell if she’s crying or moaning, but you swallow every sound she
makes, every syllable she tries to utter. Your own hands find their way to the
small of her back, feeling out her soft skin. Your body starts to rock against
hers, moving in perfect tandem. It’s not the same fast pace as before, it’s
slow and sweet and gentle, and before you know it her voice is a high-pitched
whine against your lips and you feel something warm spread across your stomach.
Her hips freeze, pressed firmly against yours as she comes, both nook and bulge
squeezing you. Her hands paw at your skin and hair, hugging you close. She
never once breaks away from your kiss.
The feeling of her around both your bugles is finally too much and you come as
well, filling her with your material and adding to the mess between the two of
you. After a few moments, she begins to sink, the arch falling out of her back.
You carefully lay down with her and finally break the kiss. Her lips follow
yours as far as her neck will let them. You pull back enough to see she’s also
been crying.
Teal tears are streaming out the corners of her eyes and all the cloudy hatred
seems to have been wiped clean from them. You don’t know what to say. All you
can do is stare at her, still unable to stop your own tears from falling.
“1…” she sniffles, bunching up the hair on the back of your neck with both
hands, “1 thought you h4t3d m3…”
It’s like she’s twisting your heart rather than your hair around her fingers.
“WH47?” your voice cracks, fresh tears pouring out, “WHY W0ULD Y0U 7H1NK 7H47?”
She swallows, lips trembling. “you would n3v34 k1ss m3 b3for3…” Your expression
must look as bad as you feel because she lets out a short sob, face contorting.
“1 tr13d 4nd 1 tr13d to g3t you to k1ss m3 but you…you 4lw4ys pull3d 4w4y 4nd
4ft3r 4 wh1l3 1 just…couldn’t try 4nymor3. 4nd th3n you gr4bb3d m3 4nd 1 kn3w
you…you h4ted m3,” her voice wavers over renewed tears, “s-so 1…1 tr13d to h4t3
you too. but 1…” You silence her with another kiss, cupping her head with both
your hands, gently stroking her horns with your thumbs.
“1’M 50 50RRY 7UL1P,” you breathe over her cheek when you break away, “1’M
50RRY, 1 5H0ULD H4V3 KN0WN 83773R…1 D1DN’7…” you sigh, beating yourself up
mentally because it seems so obvious and stupid now. You can’t believe you were
ever dumb enough to think she hated you. “1 D1DN’7 7H1NK Y0U L1K3D M3. D1DN’7
7H1NK Y0U…W4N73D 70 K155 M3…” You lay a row of light kisses from her forehead
down to her shoulder. You feel sick to your stomach. All this time you spent
worrying about all these stupid problems that didn’t exist and it nearly cost
you the one thing that really matters. Wait, nearly? Oh crap, she hasn’t said
anything about taking you back, you might be just as screwed as when you walked
in the door.
Latula hums against your neck.  “of course 1 w4nt3d to k1ss you! Who WOULDN’T
w4nt to k1ss 4 r4d dud3 l1k3 you?” You can’t help but smile, burying your face
in the nape of her neck. Maybe you are a little better off than when you walked
in.
You swallow hard. “WH47 480U7 K4NKR1?” you asked tentatively, wrapping your
arms around her waist.
“h3 1s such 4 tool..!” she whines mockingly. You laugh into her skin, hugging
her tight. She moves her arms down from your hair to return the hug.
“50 Y0U 4ND H1M..?”
“th3r3 1s no m3 4nd h1m. h3’s just h3ll4 forw4rd 4nd cl1ngy. 1 m34n, 1t w4s
k1nd4 fun to b3 4ll fl1rty 4nd sh1t but the dud3 n33ds to st3p th3 fuck off.”
“1 L0V3 Y0U.” You’re laughing again and don’t realize you’ve said it but when
you do your heart stops. Panic overcomes you and suddenly you can’t move or
breath or speak or anything. You just lie there, waiting for her to say
something.
Latula starts a little but after a long moment she leans her head into yours
and whispers, “1 lov3 you too.” It so quiet and sincere your heart nearly
bursts. You start crying again, but it’s happy. You never thought you’d happy
cry. But here you are, laughing and sobbing and squeezing your new matesprit as
tight as you can, telling her over and over, “1 L0V3 Y0U, 7UL1P! 1 L0V3 Y0U!”
She’s giggling just as madly as you flip the both of you over, accidentally
rolling off the couch. You land hard on your back, Latula now on top of you.
Swearing breaks through your laughter, but not even the dull pain can wipe the
smile off your face. You look up at Latula to see her beaming down at you, not
bothering to ask if you’re alright because she knows you are. You’ve never been
more alright in your life.
You reach up and pull her down for another kiss, which she gladly returns. You
relish the feeling of having her in your arms, of the burning red emotions she
inspires in you. This is what you wanted all along. It may not be your lame
idea of breaking quadrants, but that was such an unbelievably shitty sentiment
you have trouble even remembering why it sounded appealing in the first place.
You have your Tulip now, and she has you, and that’s all that really matters.
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