Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10710978.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Dave_Strider/Karkat_Vantas
  Character:
      Dave_Strider, Karkat_Vantas, Vriska_Serket_(Mentioned)
  Additional Tags:
      Quadrant_Confusion, Friends_With_Benefits, more_like_enemies_with
      benefits, Platonic_Hatred, Flushed_Romance_|_Matesprits, eventually,
      Bulges_and_Nooks, Porn_With_Plot, Light_Dom/sub, Frottage, First_Time,
      Oral_Sex, Oral_Fixation, Nook_Eating, Nook_Worship, Biting, Trans
      Character, Trans_Dave, Masturbation, Hair-pulling, Self-Pailing,
      Fingerfucking, Finger_Sucking, Vaginal_Fingering, Public_Sex, Semi-Public
      Sex, In_Public, Consensual, Consensual_Sex, Consensual_Underage_Sex,
      Enthusiastic_Consent, Clothed_Sex, Non-Penetrative_Sex, Lingerie, Orgasm
      Delay/Denial, Post-Coital_Cuddling, Aftercare, Purring_Trolls_(Homestuck)
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-23 Updated: 2017-12-06 Chapters: 5/12 Words: 11320
****** Some Fucked Up Form of Stress Relief ******
by TasteTheHemospectrum
Summary
     “Just hear me out,” he implored. “Rose and Kanaya are in their own
     little yarn-draped zone, I'm not touching whatever Terezi and Vriska
     have, who even knows what the hell Mayor is, and I'm sure as shit not
     going to fuck with my ex-moirail, literally or figuratively.”
     Dave and Karkat try out that whole "friends with benefits" thing
     while on the meteor and get more than they bargain for, as expected.
     How predictable can things get?
Notes
     Whoa this is the first time I've ever posted anything on here, and I
     have no clue how anything works. Let's pray for the best.
     Also, this is intended to take place at the beginning of the meteor
     trip post-retcon while the two of them still won't get along.
***** Intrusion *****
     The sound of my door opening jerked my attention away from the soundboard
under my fingertips. I hesitantly slipped my headphones off and down around my
neck once I saw the reflection of Karkat's eyes in the dim light. “The hell are
you doing here,” I demanded, trying to make my voice as coldly monotonous as
possible. “It's the middle of the fucking night. Even Rose isn't still up,
writing her mile long, drawn-out porn about magical old man rivers waving
around his wrinkly, old, liver-spotted warlock cock in front of other prune-
faced gaylocks with their droopy asscheeks spread in some serious homo-ass hope
to get a touch from the almighty flaccid dysfunction rod.”
     “What a breathtaking fantasy you've just generously shoved through my
auricular sponge clots with the force of a terrestrial matter plover, seedflap
chewer,” he deadpanned. Before I could reply, he stepped in and slammed the
door shut without any consideration for all the others trying to get some shut
eye. Speaking of sleep, he didn't look at all like he was heading to bed any
time soon. It wasn't really surprising, but I'd at least expect him to be in
pajamas just for the comfort of it instead of sticking to the same itchy
sweater and tight leggings like usual. “I'm here to ask you for a favor,” he
grunted, his voice seeming raspy and exhausted. Nothing out of the ordinary.
     I lifted an eyebrow so high that it almost peeked over the rim of my
eyewear. “I would ask what it is, but the only sensible part of me awake right
now is telling me ‘fuck no, dude, when has Karkat ever brought you any good
fortune? Never? Thought so. You don't even wanna spend more time near him than
you have to.’ So I guess I've got no choice but to give you the good ol’, shit
smeared boot.” I shrugged. Being around him wasn't exactly a pleasure for
either parties, which was very clear from the way Karkat’s face contorted into
a scowl whenever we were in the same room. This time, however, he didn't take
advantage of this perfectly prime cut opportunity to skedaddle. He padded over
to my swivel chair and looked down at me sharply. I glanced back down at my
work.
     “You didn't even get to here my offer yet.” He ran his hand through his
mussed hair, his fingers upsetting all the soft, dull waves that gathered
between his horns like a turbulent sea of fossil fuels. The bags under his
eyes, coupled with poor lighting casting shadows under his messy brows, made
him look like an ugly raccoon glaring daggers into me. He was all tense and
taut like usual, and the observation made me realize I was too. “I think…” he
hesitated, shut his eyes, and fisted his fingers in his hair. “I think we need
to try to fuck,” he forced past his grit teeth.
***** Negotiation and Nook-Eating *****
Chapter Summary
     Dave has a wide vocabulary dedicated to dicks.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
     I went rigid with shock and accidentally flicked up the amplitude so much
that I could feel the bass throbbing from the headphones resting on my
clavicle. I had to turn it back down before asking “What?” I removed my
headphones altogether and stood. “Look, I know I'm hella irresistible and all,
but I'd never expect you to feel shit for me, let alone want to get down and
dirty on the hay.” I looked down at him indifferently, now doubting every word
that left his mouth.
     “I never said I was fucking attracted to your repulsive, pink mug,” he
grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I just think that both of us
have enough problems, and this could act as some fucked up form of stress
relief.” He stepped right into my bubble, making my heart rate double , but I
sure as hell wasn't about to back down. His face was hardly centimeters from my
neck, which I was well aware he could easily tear into if he tried. He didn't.
“Just hear me out,” he implored. “Rose and Kanaya are in their own little yarn-
draped zone, I'm not touching whatever Terezi and Vriska have, who even knows
what the hellMayor is, and I'm sure as shit not going to fuck with my ex-
moirail, literally or figuratively.”
     He had a point, although I'd never admit it out loud. Everything was
getting pretty stressful since the spider bitch started making us train for
eight hours a day, and our options were limited here. “What if I—and don't get
your hopes up—actually agree? Do you plan to just roll around in bed and snog
like a couple of optimistic newlyweds on their honeymoon?” I poked him right in
his chest, barely able to feel his hard sternum through the thick sweater.
     He barked a laugh, the smile accompanying it appearing sour and
malevolent. “Of course not. I said I want to pail, not conjure up a romance
story fit for Troll Nora Roberts’ taste. Just nook and bulge, or whatever
Rose’s biology lesson called it for you...things.” He motioned down to my
crotch, his lip slightly furled in what I could only assume to be mild disgust.
“No emotional bonding necessary, or desired for that matter,” he assured me. It
was somehow comforting to hear.
     I finally shifted a couple inches back with a heavy sigh, the extra space
helping me clear out the cotton candy that had begun to accumulate between my
ears. “Fine,” I conceded after giving it a few seconds of thought, “but not a
single breath about this shitstorm-to-be is gonna waft outside of this room
like that smell of piss and weed outside a middle school bathroom. Crystal?”
     The look Karkat gave me held no malice, amusement, or anger. He was
completely down to earth, so to speak, to the point of disregarding my
superfluous simile, and I was silently grateful for it. “Deal. Where are we
doing this?” he asked and began to look around my despairing excuse for a
living space. He distractedly kicked aside a small pile of clothing before
noticing my twin sized bed in the corner, his pointed ears perking just
slightly. It was as cute as it was disturbing, and I immediately mentally
reprimanded myself for thinking that.
     “I think you've already figured it out,” I blatantly commented and strode
over to it. Karkat followed determinedly, like he was on a mission. I sat on
the edge, albeit awkwardly, and look down at my feet for a moment. As I kicked
off my shoes, I suggested, “Do you just wanna go ahead and get right to
business or–”
     “Have you learned nothing from the romcoms I brought?” he interjected and
crossed his arms. “That is the worst way of doing things.” With that, he
discarded his own footwear and clambered into my lap. I stiffened reflexively
at the sudden unfamiliar warmth laid across my thighs. “Kiss my neck, sludge
skull,” he ordered and yanked down the collar of his sweater.
     In all honesty, I expected him to take the lead. I definitely wouldn't
have let him be the pitcher, no way in hell, but I just assumed he'd at least
make an effort and put up a formidable fight.
     The impatient clicking sound coming from his throat was what brought my
attention back to Karkat, and I only glanced up at him momentarily to see the
unamused look on his face. Without having to be told twice, I tentatively
rested one hand on his right side and the other on his opposite shoulder after
discarding my shades, leaned forwards, and pressed my lips to the tendon that
stretched down from his ear to his clavicle. He didn’t make a sound, but I felt
his breathing pick up.
     I started with easy, slow kisses, gradually accustoming myself to the
contours of his neck. His skin was smooth for a troll. Most feel coarse like
the bottom of a dog’s paw, but his was pliant and seemed more like a human
after spending time in the Sahara without moisturizer. I drew a faint, almost
inaudible whine from him when I pressed my tongue wetly over the taut tendon,
urging me to shift from placing chaste kisses to instigating a sloppy makeout
session with the juncture of his neck and right shoulder. I settled for a
pattern of pressing my parted lips into the tense flesh and sucking as I pulled
back, my tongue swiping over his skin until it felt slimy and his entire body
was rocking with it. His head nodded along in slow motion as if telling me,
‘yes, good job, Dave, you’re the best there is at this.’
     I began to move up the side of his neck until I felt his pulse drumming
under my lips like an eager drum beat, and the delicate sound he made when I
ghosted my incisors over it was downright wanton. I lifted my head briefly to
find his ear and dragged my teeth down from just below the lobe to his
clavicle, making him outright keen. I experimentally swiped my tongue right
back up on the opposite side, drawing a breathy curse from him. By then, his
hands had found my upper back, and I could feel the prick of his nails through
my shirt as he kneaded his finger pads into my scapulae.
     I worked my way back down until I found his collarbone again and moved
along it to the dip in the center at the top of his sternum. When I paused
there and looked up at him, he opened his eyes and frowned. “What’s with the
sudden hesitance?” he muttered, seeming genuinely curious and not as
disgruntled as he ordinarily was.
     “Shirt’s in the way,” I declared because my words were, in fact, muffled
by a mouthful of his cotton collar. He jerked out of my arms and onto his feet
hastily as if I insulted his intellect (which I kind of did, but that’s not the
point) and muttered a couple of swears under his breath as he wrestled the
baggy thing off.
     “Is that more to your preference now?” he growled once he was finally
topless. I slowed time, just for a moment, so it wouldn’t seem like I was
staring when I took a good look at him. He already had a blush that reached
from his cheeks to his alien ears and down to his neck, where the lovebites I
left him were blossoming into a vivid burgundy. His lower lip was swollen and
bright, probably from biting it. Part of me wanted him to bite my lips too. His
body seemed off though. Something about the substitution of nipples and a navel
for those dark strips on his waist didn’t seem right, like spontaneously coming
across blank pages and obvious typos throughout a novel. His pants,
unnecessarily tight for some reason (I guess Kanaya thought it’d make an
acceptably decent outfit with his godawful sweater), had a defined lump in the
front, and I flashed a brief grin before allowing time to resume its course.
     “It’s an improvement,” I admitted as I stood and grabbed his hips. He
yelped in dismay when I swiftly shoved him down on the bed. “But I’m done
taking my time,” I continued and knelt astride his thighs. I was still somewhat
disconcerted by the fact that no, he wasn’t fighting my every touch as much as
normal, and yes, he actually was more than willing to be under me for once,
even when I hooked my thumbs in his leggings and yanked them halfway down his
thighs, almost pulling his undergarments along for the ride. “Panties? Really?
What next, am I gonna see a bra next time you go shirtless on me?”
     His face flushed the darker, delicious scarlet of his underwear, and his
ears flattened indignantly. “You try stuffing a pair of boxers into a pair
skinny jeans, and then you can come needle me all you want.”
     I snorted, which was the best kind of laugh that can be done with a
straight face. “Already have. Forget living and learning, I’ve fucking rocked
that look, just like everything else that has the privilege of laying a thread
on my hot bod.”
     He made a half-assed attempt to kick me in the face, presumably to shut me
up with a mouthful of crusty alien paw, but he only succeeded in bumping his
heel lightly against my chest before his foot dropped down, subsequently
parting his legs. With the better view, I could see the tip of what I assumed
to be one of those infamous troll tenta-schlongs peeking out of the laced edge
of one of the leg holes of his panties while the rest appeared to be smushed
and tangled up under the taut fabric over his crotch.
     This time, I made sure that I was staring enough for him to feel it, just
to see him squirm and his cheeks burgeon with an even darker shade of blush
that had begun to proliferate across his shoulders. “What happened to moving
things along?” he grumbled, refusing to meet his gaze, and I smirked. His legs
were just about to close when I nudged his knees further apart and knelt down
on the icy, metallic floor.
     “It’s not my fault I wanted to see what I’m workin’ with here.” He fucking
chirruped like a startled cat once I had my fingers hooked in the waist of his
underwear. “And it looks to me like I’m about to get friendly with the goddamn
kracken. I’m gonna make it my honorable mission to get to know this little
piece of slimy cephalopod shit. We might even become acquaintances and end up
meeting regularly at Panera for some healthy-ass baked goods every Tuesday.
Hope you still got that old shipping grid, cause shit’s about to go down, and
by down I mean schedu-”
     He cut me off by seizing a fistful of my playing card symbols sheets and
shoving it into my mouth. “Are we actually going to do this or what?” he
demanded, kicking off his panties while he still had the opportunity. In
response, I wrapped my hand around the middle of his extraterrestrial excalibur
and cringed a tiny bit as his junk clung to my wrist like freshly unrolled
saran wrap. I squeezed it experimentally, feeling the slickness of what I was
assuming to be pre, and he moaned like a virgin in a whorehouse. I assumed it
was just his rod that was sickening sanguine, but then I pulled my hand away
and had to clench my jaw to keep from gagging at the diluted blood look of his
slime, if that’s what it was. I grasped him again before I overthought things,
this time holding him closer to where his admittedly thick hilt met the bunched
up skin around it. With another tentative squeeze, I felt the slime slip out
from under my persistent fingers, and the dense flesh gave with the same
firmness of a ripe grape. My hand shimmied up the tapered shaft, if it could
even be called that, until I reached the tip of his abnormally long luigi,
Karkat gasping and mewling along the ride.
     Now that it was finally untangled, I got to do what I’ve felt the bizarre
urge to do since I felt that donger squirming in my lap: I latched my lips
around the tip and slid them down until it was comfortably filling my mouth and
stretching my jaw open. His fingers were suddenly yanking my hair into tense
fists against my scalp, and I groaned quietly around the oddly satisfying
sensation of his soft tenta-dick writhing hot on my tongue. The sounds of his
choked moans muffled against his palm was what really drove me to shove a hand
into my pants though. Of course, the savory noises only escalated when I began
sucking and swallowing on regular intervals, which I was almost happy to do
with the way it made him press pleasantly against the walls inside my mouth.
After only minutes of this, the back of my tongue was swollen and burning from
all the sucking, but it just made it all the better when he squirmed deeper and
coiled over my tastebuds.
     Before long, the perpetual pulling on my hair ceased and was replaced by
the heel of his hand feebly pressing to my forehead. I was considerably
reluctant to draw back, but I conceded, and the hot drag of his skin over my
tongue left me panting and pressing my middle finger to my clit. The look on
his face was of saturated arousal and haze, and my hips abruptly jerked into my
hand. Still, that composed the incredibly eloquent question: “Why’d you make me
stop?”
     “Because our biology is ludicrous as shit.” Each syllable left his mouth
as a heavy breath. “And my entire lower half is going to be excruciating if I
don’t have something in my nook when I finish.” The way he worded it made it
sound like banging was an inconvenience or even a burden, which was something
part of me, probably that corner of my mind high off of sleep deprivation and
the lingering flavor of alien wiener, wanted to change.
     “Just shut it and let me deal with your shit, as always, before I change
my damn mind,” I growled and coaxed his beef aside. I was starting to like it
more than him. Underneath, as Rose had informed me quite some time ago, was
what looked almost like a regular snatch. It was honestly a nice change of pace
to work with something at least fairly familiar; I didn’t even waste a second
when I wedged my head between Karkat’s thighs and messily kissed the pillowy
folds just below his Jimmy. Then, he let out a whine, I shallowly delved my
tongue in, and he wailed, twisting and thrashing and curling his toes. I did it
again, tasting faint sweetness inside of him, and he shakily mewled my name. I
lifted my head, giving him a smug look as I licked off the fluids that got all
over my lips. “C’mon, you can do better than that,” I taunted.
     Before he could give me what could only be a halfhearted retort with the
state he’s in, I ducked back down, mashed my lips back against his snatch and
plunged my tongue into him. He jolted and squealed, his hands yanking on my
hair again as I licked at his oleaginous walls. The flavor wasn’t delectable,
per se, but it was addicting as hell and had me driving my tongue in and out of
him while he practically humped my face with his back arching off the bed.
     Soon, Karkat was letting out a long catalog of breathy swears, mostly
consisting of, “Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” with my name mixed in a couple times.
His quivering thighs squeezed my cheeks, and I could feel his heartbeat
throbbing around my tongue like a goddamn hummingbird’s. All the while, I
couldn’t help but rub myself harder with a now sopping hand under my god tier
jammies, and I moaned into him. His heels found my back and dug in hard below
my scapulae, forcing me closer. Everything was getting hot and frantic around
me, and everyone on the meteor must’ve been hearing us by then because holy
dick was he loud.
     He didn’t even give me a warning before he came, and almost molten spunk
splattered in my hair because goddammit his willy was right there and drenching
the back of my neck with that eye-straining carmine color of his. It was
dripping down my chin too.
     He had no fucking right to be this sexy, but he somehow was, and that
paired with the unctuous feel of my hardworking fingers was enough to get me to
my apogee. I had to lurch back so I could breathe through my high as heat
flooded over my fingers too. I didn’t even realize I was moaning until I had
stopped and was just sitting back on my ass, panting hard. I barely registered
that I wasn’t wearing my binder, and thank jesus and also past me for that.
     A simple glance upwards informed me that Karkat was in an even worse
condition. His legs were still trembling like a fawn’s while translucent
vermillion streaked his thighs. From my position, I could just barely see his
chest heaving, as if I didn’t know with how loudly he was panting. As the
cotton that orgasm had stuffed into my head was dissipating, I forced myself
onto my feet, only to flop down on the bed beside him.
     I, obviously, was the first to catch my breath. “That was...not as
appalling as I expected,” I confessed. He lazily slapped a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t even start,” he managed to fit in a single exhale.
Chapter End Notes
     This definitely isn't all of it. The whole point of this is putting a
     twist on the whole slow-burn idea by having more chapters involving
     sex than not. That way, my readers don't get impatient or bored like
     I do if it gets too long and sluggish. Regardless, it's going to be
     one hell of a ride and someone's going to cry at some point.
     I can't say I'm entirely satisfied with how this chapter turned out;
     I'll try to make it a little more intense in upcoming chapters. The
     next is going to swap to Karkat's perspective, so fingers crossed
     that writing from a submissive pov is going to help.
     Also, more kinks to come because I can't help myself. Feel free to
     comment if there's anything in particular you want to see later on!
***** Morning Mulling *****
Chapter Summary
     Karkat thinks a little too much about what happened last night.
Chapter Notes
     Like I said before, this and the next few chapters will be written
     from Karkat's perspective in case it's not clear.
     I couldn’t believe I let myself fall asleep in Dave’s block. Granted, my
thighs did feel all chilled and tacky with the residue remaining from only
hours ago, even with the thick cloth (that smelled too much like him) draped
over my legs like an afterthought; there was no way I would've walked all the
way back to my temporary residence in that condition. Still, the disturbingly
warm mass beside me impelled me to sit upright in his dormancy slat instead of
idling at his side. A faint, bitter taste manifested in the back of my mouth at
the reminder of this cold space rock’s lack of ‘coons and slime, yet the subtle
soreness between my thighs captured my attention instead. It didn’t exactly
hurt, but a couple touches from my middle finger here and there, along with
some wincing, told me that my nook could use a break for now. For some reason,
the relief I expected to accompany the idea that I wouldn’t be coming back here
too soon didn’t arise.
     I grit my teeth when I rose to my feet. Astonishingly, my body didn’t ache
as I had predicted, but my legs felt as weak as a hatchling’s. That didn’t
deter me, though, and I picked up each article of my clothing left on the floor
like the rest of Dave’s entire wardrobe. When I slipped my undergarments on, it
seemed like the memory of his touches clung to it. The pressure of my sweater
collar around my neck brought back ghosts of his lips and tongue; the quiet
purr that rumbled briefly in my throat was what really made me shudder and
hastily finish dressing myself. I could already feel my bulge shifting in its
sheath, which made me growl under my breath.
     I hurriedly left him in his block, the fuckwit fortunately still asleep
like it was hibernation season for humans. Walking back to my residence was
tedious, and the entire time, I was acutely aware of the way my leggings
adhered to my inner thighs with every agonizing step. Upon returning to my
dreadful excuse for a respiteblock, I let out a heavy breath of alleviation.
The bedding pile I usually slept in wasn’t exactly what any sensible troll
would call comfortable, but it was admittedly tranquilizing with the way it
gave under my back when I slumped down on it. Once I was adequately positioned,
I kicked off every garment below my waist and sighed.
     Although I remembered every detail of the previous night vividly - the
languid drag of his mouth along my skin, his unexpectedly tender and careful
fingertips - it still felt unreal, dreamlike even. The fact that he’d even
agreed at all came as a shock. The rational part of my pan told me I must have
fabricated the entire experience because there was no way in any timeline ever
he’d comply to laying a single finger on my heinous body. Yet the memory
remained as clear as crystal, and my fidgeting bulge incessantly reminded me.
If I allowed my thoughts to drift long enough, I could still imagine the heat
of his mouth around it, the gentle scrape of his taste buds along the
underside, the pressure of his blunt teeth against my spread sheath, and the
sudden electrifying pleasure that accompanied the tightening of his cheeks
every time he swallowed.
     The sound of my slick bulge sliding out of its dilated sheath was what
brought me back to reality. Fuck. I could feel my blush burn from my cheeks to
my neck like wildfire. Somehow, despite being alone, it was humiliating that my
bulge was already out when my night with Dave couldn’t have been even twelve
hours ago. I instinctively let out a feral snarl, irritated by my mutinous body
like usual. Just the thought of being found like this was inexplicably making
my nook leak torrid vermilion between my thighs, which I promptly clamped shut
over it.
     No, no, I refused to touch myself. I never wanted to be ‘that troll’: the
one who’s constantly getting off by himself, his eyes pinned to a porn virus-
infected husktop for twenty hours a day with the lights off. No way in
steaming, pungent sea cow shit would I become that troll. My biology, however
seemed to have other plans. My bulge had wedged itself between my compressed
thighs and was beginning to insistently prod at my oversensitive nook, making
my innards twist.
     I barely had time to shove the hem of my sweater between my teeth before
it slid in, seeking out the warmth that came with moving deeper and deeper. I
instantly moaned loudly from the abrupt, almost torturous sensation, and
mentally applauded my barely competent past self for muffling it. If he hadn’t,
then everyone on the meteor would’ve probably heard my embarrassingly vocal
responses to the persistent wriggling inside of my nook and the frequent
clenching around my bulge. As it sunk deeper into me, I could feel my nook
stretching around it and letting out enough lubricant for an entire blood
caste’s repulsive three night orgy. I couldn’t stop myself from stuffing my
hand between my tense thighs and rocking my palm against the drenched, exposed
base of my bulge. That only succeeded in pushing it deeper into my
overstimulated nook, making me whine, but it felt too good to stop. I ground my
hips into my hand, lifting and pressing languorously in a sloppy pattern.
     All of my senses still felt dulled by drowsiness, and my bloodstream
imitated liquid lead. At that point, it almost felt like a welcome change of
pace. Every moment felt sweetly drawn out like taffy, as opposed to the
feverish rush from the night before. I found myself hugging a pillow from the
pile to my chest and kneading it with my free hand as my throat emitted a
barely-there chirping noise. Then, the tip of my bulge flipped the switch from
relaxing to urgent when it flicked something deep in my nook, making my back
rise into an arch and my toes curl. It pressed much more determinedly to the
same spot, and I whimpered loudly into the thick fabric of my sweater.
     Soon, I had no choice but to roll over, bury my face in the squishy pile
under me, and moan into a pillow as I humped my hips into my hand. It was
demeaning, and the only thing keeping me from thinking of Dave’s abominable
face between my thighs was the shame in feeling like a fucking desperate animal
in heat. The thought only loitered in my mind momentarily before I felt my
bulge rub over that sensitive place in my nook again, clouding all my thoughts
with hazy bliss.
     I only lasted a minute or so longer, and then my nook was fluttering while
my bulge deluged it with the sickly sultry slurry. I fucking mewled into the
coarse fabric of the pillow like a whiny wriggler and crumbled. It wasn’t pan-
blowing, and it sure as shit wasn’t Dave, but when my bulge reluctantly
receded, it was enough to leave my thighs twitching and my body even weaker
than before. I indolently castigated myself for doing something that
shitskulled this early in the morning; I would unquestionably regret it by the
time I’d inevitably be dragged to pointless battle training like the rest of
our soon-to-be-annihilated team, courtesy of her resplendent bitchiness
herself. For now, however, I let myself remain where I was, ignoring the
rapidly cooling material between my thighs as I let my thoughts wander back to
the preceding night.
***** Fighting Dirty *****
Chapter Summary
     A one-on-one strife gets way out of hand.
Chapter Notes
     In case you've forgotten, this is still from Karkat's perspective.
     And just as a heads up: you may notice more troll terms appear deeper
     into the chapter. What's basically happening is that, the harder it
     is for Karkat to think straight, the more he reverts to his native
     language by accident. He still uses human terms to describe Dave,
     though, because his subconscious associates human terminology with
     human parts while not making the connection that they're similar to
     his own anatomy.
     Dave on the battlefield (or rooftops used for training in this case),
versus Dave off, frequently made me question if he was even the same person.
Whenever we were just sharing a dispute over movie tastes or passive-
aggressively antagonizing each other at the table during a meal, he was his
loquacious and pompous and irritating self. When the polished blades of our
weapons bit into each other under Vriska’s command, however, he would become
almost unrecognizable. His body language would fluctuate from lax to rigid the
second the clang of metal initiated a match. He’d drop into an almost natural
fighting stance with his hands gripping the hilt of his sword hard enough for
his knuckles to blanch, which was threatening enough for me to actually feel a
brief pang of apprehension. His face always changed within that same instant,
completely eradicating any subtle emotion that I’d never even notice until it’s
gone.
     He was a respectable fighter, possibly even deft enough to defeat an
amateur threshecutioner. That is, he had claimed several victories over me in
the past. Seeing his face, even though it was almost an entire pedigree since
our one night stand, still made my knees considerably weaker, which I knew
wouldn’t serve me well when we glitched our weapons from our specibi. He was
going to win again, and I already knew it.
     As we stood frozen in time, glaring at one another from our ends of the
metallic rooftop gleaming with the reflections of distant dream bubbles, my
grasp on my sickles tightened. I always made the first move, and he somehow
always anticipated it perfectly. I silently wished he would take the offense
first for once, but he never would. Still, we stood motionless as we both
waited for our opponents to trigger the fray. My pulse was already throbbing
vehemently in my ears, almost engulfing the sound of my heavy breathing.
     He shifted his footing, and I lunged instantly, driven by poignant
instinct. My right sickle slashed ineffectively past his shoulder when he
simply stepped aside. Predicable. The curve of my left blade nearly caught his
side as a counter, but he was suddenly behind me, judging by the sound of his
fast-paced breathing. I quickly spun on my heel to swing my sickle into his
side, but he blocked it with his sword.
     I somehow always underestimated his strength. Once I had his blade snagged
in one of mine, I thought I had him, but with a simple flick of his wrist, my
palm was suddenly empty, and my sickle was sent sliding with a metallic grind.
I let out a feral growl of agitation and swung at him again, only to slice
through thin air once more. I couldn’t even see him for a split second, and
then he was at my side, preparing to bring his sword straight down to my head.
I narrowly managed to duck away but lost my footing the moment his blade passed
my face, which was almost close enough to graze my eyelashes. The hollow thud
that emphasized the feeling of my ass slamming down hard on the roof
reverberated, accentuating my ignominious fuck-up.
     “Christ in a pair of terrestrial rolling transportive footwear, were you
trying to bisect me like an amphibian?” I shouted up at him as he stood over
me, his weapon still in hand. I held my remaining sickle in both hands in front
of me like a pathetic, hiveless troll trying to protect his last rancid
grubwurst from an imperial drone.
     The response I got was his weapon colliding harshly with mine again. With
the amplified support, I was able to hold him in place long enough to shove my
foot at his shins. I succeeded in knocking his legs out from under him, but as
my shit fortune would have it, he fell directly onto me. Our weapons strewed
across the roof, far from either of our reaches, which left us with nothing
more than our own bodies to fight with.
     The skirmish didn’t last long; at first, I was clawing and kicking while
he obstructed each of my potential blows with maddening agility. Then, he
shifted to the offense, and his hands swiftly took charge with almost invasive
grabbing and pulling. What usually felt purely like ordinary physical combat
was modestly titillating. I couldn’t tell if it felt that way because of
something new he was doing or the intrusive fantasies that most definitely
originated from my odious bulge. Speaking of which, I could already feel that
vexatious nuisance pressing to my sheath in the most uncomfortable way
possible. I wanted to kick myself.
     I was still fighting back until I fisted my hand in his hair and yanked.
He moaned like a professional pornographic celebrity, and I faltered. Of
course, he took the opportunity to return the favor, except he gripped my horn
instead. The immediate heat and buzzing I felt made me gasp reflexively, and
his other hand was suddenly under my shirt, and I was arching off the ground.
As if he had fucking practiced a million and one times, he smoothly slotted his
knee between my legs and gave both my horn and one of my scars a solid squeeze.
I squirmed, barely able to keep my eyes open and glare at his dispassionate
face.
     It took his hand only seconds to traverse the small expanse of my chest
before reaching those useless lumps of fat, that could barely be called
rumblespheres, and groping one shamelessly. It was an odd sensation, but it
made my abdomen clench and drew unbelievably loud moans from me. I couldn’t
hinder them, but the hand on my horn abruptly disappeared, and Dave shoved two
fingers into my mouth. They helped muffle my groans, thankfully, but even so,
they kept pushing, essentially finger-fucking my mouth. Each time they slid in,
he applied relentless pressure to my tongue, pinning it down until my lips
reached his knuckles, and then he’d nearly completely withdraw them again. The
pattern eventually synchronized with each squeeze around my rumblesphere while
I too was mewling in time.
     I almost forgot about his knee between my thighs until he ground it
directly against my nook. The two layers of unfortunately sheer cloth
separating it from my unnecessarily sensitive skin didn’t do much to help, and
I let out a whimper. My nook was leaking like a cracked aquarium,
embarrassingly so, and I was certain he could feel it through his thick cotton
pants.
     He opened his mouth, and I braced myself for a snide comment, calling me
desperate or disgusting, belittling me like some fucked up part of me craved.
Instead, he asked me something that somehow hurt a multitude more and made my
prongtips feel icy: “Is this okay?”
     My saliva felt like a stone lodged in my protein chute as I tried to
swallow, and I nearly thanked him for removing his digits from between my lips
because that made it just a little easier. “Yeah,” I rasped out as if I’d just
recovered from tuberculosis. “You didn’t have to ask,” I added.
     He ignored that part and wedged that same hand between my thighs without
another word. I buried my incisors into my lower lip, which already stung, as I
let out a high pitched sound. The calloused pads of his fingers rubbed lightly
over the swollen lips of my chafed nook, dragging the sopping fabric over it
exquisitely and sparking a lightning shower under my skin. My prongtips were
frustratingly klutzy as they frantically tried to tear away at the cling of
fabric over my nook. He eventually picked up on what I was doing and hooked his
thumbs in the waists of both my leggings and undergarments, sliding them both
down to my knees at the same time. As expected, my bulge was all too eager to
emerge and latch onto one of his wrists as his other hand disappeared under the
hem of my sweater again.
     Between the abrupt disappearance of pressure to my skin and the striking,
chilly air against my slimy inner thighs, I was fidgeting and letting out these
tiny, involuntary whimpers. They only stopped when I felt his fiery touch back
where it certainly belonged.
     With the obstructive fabric out of the way, his fingers slipped clumsily
over the slick folds of my nook. It had to be embarrassing for him, losing his
graceful momentum like that, but the brevity of the friction was both an
immense tease and twice as satisfying, especially when I felt him skim over
that sensitive nub just at the top. The acute sensation of his rough finger
pads scraping smoothly across my skin left me squealing and breathless. Then,
one sunk into me.
     It moved smoothly, and I almost didn't notice since I was producing enough
lubrication to fill a pail halfway. I did feel the subtle stretch, and as it
inched in a little deeper, the stinging bite of his unkempt nail (I vaguely
recalled his recurring habit of gnawing at them). I hissed almost inaudibly.
The sound must’ve been what made him hesitate to press deeper, so it quickly
dissipated into a needy whine that I may or may not have feigned to convince
him to resume.
     Something changed in his expression, and I maybe saw a momentary flash of
concern, but it was forgotten the instant that his single digit curled upwards
decadently. Whatever he pressed against gave, and I couldn't think. Everything
seemed fast and slow at the same time, and maybe it was because of his fucking
time shenanigans or just the way he played the inside of my nook like a musical
instrument. I belatedly realized that, without his fingers in my gaper, I was
moaning too, and not the usual breathy gasps either. They were heavy and vocal
and  loud . My knees pulled at the taut clothing confining them because I so
desperately wanted more; I wanted to feel this tenfold, I wanted to feel his
tongue in me again, I wanted to feel him on and around me like this but  more .
     He mercifully slid in another, and I felt the need to spread my legs even
further to compensate for the thickened pressure between the hot inner walls of
my nook. The discomfort it contributed was insignificant in comparison to jolt
of bliss that tore through me as he rolled both fingertips against that same
tender spot. I was rapidly reduced to a squirming mess, making sounds I didn’t
even know I was capable of producing. All the while, I was jerking my hips up
uncontrollably, wordlessly begging for something that not even I knew. His
response was curling his fingers even more, pressing his bent joints against my
back wall and digging his fingertips splendidly into the sensitive spot deep
down inside of me.
     As if having his fingers shoved into me and my bulge constricting around
his bony wrist wasn’t enough, he flicked his thumb nail over that abhorrently
sensitive nub. I did nothing short of fucking trilling like a wild animal and
bucking my entire lower half up erratically. He pressed harder against the
underside of my rumblesphere, cracked a slight smirk, and that was it. All of
my senses focused in on the electricity rushing through me and the sound of my
own moans. Even that was all drowned out by the staggering ecstasy moments into
my high.
     Upon coming down, the first thing I noticed was the taste of human
pheromones and my own slurry on my tongue. It took me a second to realize he
was steadily stroking his coarse fingers over my taste buds and that his
knuckles were periodically brushing against my cartilage nub. He was sloppily
finger fucking my mouth just like before, and it was probably the only thing
keeping my big gaper from making every last soul on the meter think I was being
eviscerated.  My thighs were scalding, my chest felt sore, my cheeks were
sticky with drying moisture, and my nostrils were burning dry from laboriously
breathing through them. Despite all of that, I chose to focus on the rhythmic
undulations of his digits between my lips.
     He eventually withdrew his fingers, which, although upsetting, was
inevitable. Then that cheating fucker flashstepped a couple meters away. It
was, to some extent, a relief to have no one looming over me anymore. I felt
like I could finally breathe, but it was bittersweet without the flavor of his
skin. With a glance in his direction as he sauntered towards the rooftop
transportalizer, my discontent was replaced by mild amusement when I spotted
the slightly visible dark patch of damp fabric over his crotch.
     I was tempted to call him out on it, strangely desiring the regular,
spiteful banter that often occurred between us, but his shoes hit the raised
platform, and he vanished. As I shimmied my leggings back up my thighs with
difficulty and approached the transportalizer, I absently reflected on the
faint throb of disappointment from missing my opportunity and something else
that I couldn’t quite touch my fingertips to.
***** The Redder the Better *****
Chapter Summary
     It's that time of year again: the wonderful season of gift-giving.
Chapter Notes
     Switching back to Dave's perspective.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
     Since the moment I saw “carcinoGeneticist” in that bland slate color on my
phone screen who knows how long ago, I thought I didn't want anything to do
with Karkat. Thus, it never so much as occurred to me in even the most bizarre
dreams that I'd constantly want my hands all over him, but I guess, here we
are. Nowadays, after endless months on this godforsaken hunk of junk in space,
the sight of him no longer made me fucking nauseous to hell; instead my skin
itched with the desire to feel his heat under me. I had noticed my gaze fixated
on his lips on more than one occasion as my thoughts drifted off course towards
memories of the kinds of sounds that escape them whenever I’d managed to get my
hands on him. The guy was becoming my goddamn nicotine; the more I got my fix,
the more I was getting hooked. As much as I hated to admit it, I was fucking
thirsty as shit for him by the time I was standing at his bedroom door with a
poorly-wrapped, ill-intended gift.
     His familiar frown contorted into a look of mild surprise when he swung
the door open. Thank whatever fake-ass god orchestrating reality that he was
sensible enough to make an assumption about what I wanted instead of loudly
demanding an explanation. As he stepped aside without a word, his eyes lingered
on the crumpled wrappings in my hands, but he didn't ask about what I brought
until the door was shut. We had an unspoken agreement to keep our lips sealed
outside of our rooms to elude the possibilities of Terezi’s persistent,
invasive questions or the knowing, sidelong glances from Rose that I got all
too often regardless.
     The soft click of his bedroom door’s lock triggered a less than subtle
interrogation. Wonderful.
     “What is it?” he demanded, blunt as ever.
     “What is what?” I automatically countered as I took a seat in the swivel
chair at his desk.
     “Right, I forgot that literally no living, sentient being in the entirety
of fucking existence can get a straight answer from you without wasting a
minimum of half their lifespan to negotiate for a vague clue. I wish that
feathery doppleganger of yours was here instead because at least he skips the
riddles.” Karkat bared his shark-like teeth before snatching up the package
from where I had placed it on his desk, and I crossed my arms, smirking just
enough to trim that fuse of his just a little shorter.
     “C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t be a bad sport. Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m
here before you talk yourself to death?” I asked, only to get a curled lip and
sharp glare in immediate response.
     “I can already guess, you transparent pearfuck.” He held up the ‘gift’
momentarily, making its contents rustle under their half-assed wrappings.
     “Then are you going to open it or not?” I quirked an eyebrow over the rim
of my aviators.
     “I was getting there. Don’t rush me,” he practically huffed. It reminded
me of a surly twelve year old who’d just gotten his Xbox taken away. As he
plopped his tight ass down on the edge of his untouched bed and tore into the
wrapping paper with all the reckless abandon of a middle-aged soccer mom with
three kids and a pomeranian named princess, I took the opportunity to get a
good look at his unfamiliar living space. It admittedly wasn’t in as much of a
disarray as my own. Instead of moldy wrappers and crushed soda cans, he had a
couple of weird-ass grub things lying around by my feet. If it wasn’t for the
cords stabbed into their technicolor flanks, I’d either assume they were troll
candy, dead babies, or fucked-up sex toys. Come to think of it, a lot of his
shit was squishy-looking and segmented, including his laptop. I couldn’t tell
if I was grossed out or thought they looked kinda cool. More of the bulkier
furnishing that he obviously couldn’t have brought in his sylladex, like his
blocky wardrobe and bed. They appeared normal, if not starkly plain. He
probably hasn’t even used his bed judging by how neatly its duvet was tucked
in, as if the messy hoard of frayed pillows and blankets in the back corner
wasn’t enough of an indicator.
     By the time my gaze landed on him again, he was holding up his present
with the wrapping paper strewn across his lap. His face was nearly as scarlet
as the lingerie he was dangling in front of him.
     “Why. Just tell me why. if I get a ‘one straight answer’ pass, please let
me use it on this. Fucking  why ?” He looked me in the eye, almost entirely
rigid like a goddamn hunk of wood.
     “Well,” I began as I stood and approached him. “You and I both know that I
am well aware of the kind of tighty whities you wear all the damn time, and I
ain’t gonna lie; they look real good on you. So I thought to myself, ‘why not
do the bastard a favor and get him the whole set?” By the time I finished, I
had my hands planted on the mattress on either side of his hips and was leaning
over him. “Now how’s about we find out if I’m the only one who rocks the color
red,” I murmured to him in that low, sultry tone I knew he liked and licked my
lips, gazing into his eyes overtop my tilted shades.
     I expected another smartass comment in reply, but when he opened his
mouth, only raspy chirp escaped those enticing, chapped lips of his. When he
neglected to make the first move, my hands slid to hold his outer thighs, and I
pressed my chest to his, my face tucking into the juncture of his neck and
shoulder as his hands dropped to the mattress. As my palms traveled from his
legs to the tucked-in edge of his shirt, I kissed and bit my way up to his ear,
making sure to avoid those little vestigial gills just below the corner of his
jaw. “You aregoing to try em on, right?” I whispered. “I mean, I know you will
anyways, so why not do it while I’m here to see it?”
     I felt his breath stutter against my neck as I dipped my fingertips below
his waistband and untucked his sweater. “Besides, it would be rude not to,” I
went on. “I went through all that trouble to get them. I even wrapped ‘em up
all pretty just for you. The least you could do is give me a little preview.” I
inched my hands up his sides, drawing high-pitched clicks from him when I
passed over his grub scars. “I even got you a cute bra for these babies.” I
suddenly laid my hands over what were almost big enough to qualify as a-cups.
“So what do you say?”
     I could feel his chest expand with one more breath before he seemed to
regain motor skills and planted his palms firmly on my chest. “Get off of me,
buttmunch,” he grunted; I took satisfaction in the breathy undertone of his
words and weak-ass insult.
     “Ouch,” I deadpanned as I straightened up and returned to my place at his
desk. “I am severely injured. That insult hit hard, man. Right in the dick.
Great, now I’m forever impotent. Good job, you just murdered your chances of
getting laid tonight or ever again.”
     Karkat gave me the good ol’ middle talon after getting to his wobbly feet.
“No way. You’re the only one never getting fucked again. You know I’d get my
quadrants filled tenfold before you even get a moirail,” he grumbled as he made
his way to his door and unlocked it. Without much more warning, he yanked me up
and shoved me out into the dark, empty corridor. The door was closed before I
could even turn around.
     Even with my ear pressed to the cold door, I couldn’t hear a sound. “Hurry
up,” I called through it after giving him about five minutes to change. I
nearly fell over when he suddenly opened it again and pulled me through.
     “Shut up,” he snarled right in my face after the door slammed shut behind
me. “In case you didn’t already know, Kanaya and Rose are right down the
fucking hall, so we can’t be as recklessly obvious like you try so hard to be
in your sequestered block.”
     “Speak for yourself,” I quipped and took a step back from him. “Mister ‘I
don’t know any other method of closing doors other than slamming them as hard
as possible in an attempt to make the entire fucking meteor shake off course’.”
My gaze was drifting down over his body as my mouth ran on autopilot. I’d be
lying if I said red didn’t look fucking breathtaking on him.
     I silently complimented myself for doing such a good job of alchemizing
the set. Sure, some parts, like the sheer bra, were a few sizes too small--
maybe I was wrong about his hypothetical cup size after all--but that wasn’t
necessarily a bad thing. A little bit of sexy squish never did anyone harm.
Every other aspect, however, was utterly flawless. Of course, you can never go
wrong with lace, and the bows on the stockings and garters were a nice touch,
if I do say so myself. There was even a heart cutout in the ass of the panties,
which came into sight when I began circling him.
     I was so caught up in admiring it all that I didn’t even realize he wasn’t
talking until I returned to the space in front of him. That healthy blush from
earlier was still burning strong as ever, which didn’t exactly go hand in hand
with that death glare, but I expected nothing less from him.
     “Are you done yet?” he snarled once I slowed to a stop, “or have I become
a permanent landmark for everyone on this rock to stare at when they all visit
for erotic sight-seeing?” He folded his arms in front of his chest, and I
noticed his legs were hugged together too. The poor thing was embarrassed.
     I couldn’t bare to resist any longer. My arms snaked around his waist like
they knew the contours by heart, and our chests collided once again. I was
almost too distracted by the flurry of thoughts trying to mold on my tongue
that the insistent pressing of my binder was nearly forgotten; that baby’s
gotta be coming off real soon, but it wasn’t nearly as important as feeling up
this sexy-ass klazomaniac right the fuck now.
     No matter how much I’d told myself that Karkat’s disgusting and horrible
and infuriating, my own motherfucking mind had betrayed me. I wouldn’t dare
tell him a word of it, though. Instead, my hands whispered how hot he was as
they skimmed over his warm back. My incisors left blossoming bruises along his
clavicle that growled how sexy he was. Finally, my lips captured his for the
first time ever, and my kiss told him how fucking unfairly he was treating
himself, how his own words never did himself justice, how if he couldn't see
how goddamn well he rocked his own body, then I’d show him.
     I could feel a million things all at once. The pulse under his skin. The
heat mingling between us. The solidity of his chest. The straps and lace
beneath my fingers. The rumble of his deep purr. And more than anything, the
flutter of his eyelashes against my cheek the moment my lips parted on their
own. His tongue delved into my mouth immediately, and I wanted more. I pressed
even more heavily against him as our lips instinctively moved with each other.
He took a step back, and I took one forwards, gradually backing him towards his
bedding pile. His presence’s disappearance was punctuated with a sharp gasp
when he toppled back into the mound, and I opened my eyes.
      He had fallen onto his back with his legs slightly parted and his arms
half buried in a tangle of sheets and pillows. Beneath the narrow crotch of his
panties, his wiggly caught my eye. Its girth much exceeded the width of the
thin, taut lace covering it, giving me a decent peek of what I’d find
underneath. I didn’t even have to think to kneel down between his thighs,
spread his legs a little more, and press my hand over the writhing lump in his
intimates. As I felt along the outline of it, the thing abruptly vanished, and
Karkat keened. After tugging aside the fabric hiding it, I reflexively licked
my lips at the sight of it buried in his own snatch. Oh.
     “Don’t just stare!” he snarled indignantly, breaking my brief trance. “Are
you going to help or what?” Of course, with his “one straight answer” pass all
good and gone, I wasn’t in any rush to give him a reply, and it wasn’t like I
knew exactly what he was asking me to do. Thus, all I did was shrug, earning
myself a feral growl. “Fine, I’ll take care of it myself.”
     The realization of what he wanted to accomplish finally crossed my mind
when he reached down between his thighs with both hands. I instantly had them
pinned to the squishy pile at either side of his head, and I cracked a smirk.
     “Not so fucking fast,” I cooed and shifted up enough to kneel astride his
hips. “I never told you to take it out.”
     Before he could breathe a word of something that’d probably be along the
lines of “you’re not the boss of me”, I sat my ass right down on the hilt of
his not-so-little red warrior. His back bent up like a bow, and mine bent
forwards a little, too. It’s not like you could blame me, though. Even through
my jeans and boxers, I could feel that calescent, unyielding heat right
there under my crotch, and despite how that one big-ass denim seam down the
middle of my pants were surely chafing his sex schnauzer like a bitch, he
seemed to be enjoying this twice as much with how much he was bucking his hips
arrhythmically and trilling. Makes sense since he was pretty much smashing
himself, therefore simultaneously getting smashed by himself while I was just
getting a sweet taste of things on the surface. Nonetheless, my jeans had to
go, and the way my binder was biting into my underarms told me that shit was
next in line. I wasn’t looking forwards to it.
     His eyes, which were barely able to stay peeked open seconds ago, snapped
wide when I stood. Surprisingly, he seemed more disappointed than angry, as if
he instantly assumed I’d just spontaneously decided to tuck tail and run. Once
was in the process of shimmying out of my tight pants, however, he caught on.
     “That’s what you get for wearing skinny jeans,” he managed to remark even
though his schlonger was still more than halfway inside of himself.
     “Hey, you don’t have shit on me. You wear leggings. They’re basically the
same fucking thing,” I argued as I kicked them aside before tossing off my top.
     “That’s horse shit.” He managed to prop himself up into a sitting
position, forcing a couple inches of alien dong outta his puss. “Shit…” he
hissed but quickly recovered enough to speak relatively normally. “There’s a
fucking difference, and everyone with more than your two pan cells knows it.”
     “That’s great, but…” I paused so that I could wrestle off my old, shitty
binder. Once it was on the floor, I reflexively crossed my arms. Goddamn, he
kept this place freezing. “But I don’t see how that has anything to do with
rolling round under the sheets. By the way, until you figure out your fucking
thermostat, I’m never giving you a strip show in your room ever again.” With
the way he was looking at me, I belatedly remembered that I’d never actually
given him one before in the first place, which was nigh-baffling considering
the number of times we’ve done this sort of thing.
     I went ahead and took off my boxers while I was at it, and for the first
time ever in the same room, I was more naked than him. Fortunately, he was
either courteous enough not to ruin the mood by asking questions or too caught
up in the moment to care. Whatever his reason was, I was grateful that he
didn’t decide to make this into a lesson on the human body and let me get back
to business.
     “I swear to fuck,” I muttered as I knelt over him again, automatically
laying my hands over his bra cups while I was at it, “if I get some
intergalactic STD from you, I’m resetting the entire timeline and cutting off
your dick when we meet.” With that, I precariously lowered myself down more,
closing the space between our hips.
     “Holy shit,” we both breathed in what was almost unison when I pressed
myself against his squishy, squirming equivalent to a shaft. For a moment, our
chests were flush, and then I sat up, making us both groan when my weight added
more pressure between us. I kept my hands on his chest, propping myself up as I
started to slowly rock my hips back and forth. Karkat, who seemed to have been
trying his best to keep still for the past few minutes, suddenly bucked up with
a sharp cry, and I hissed out another moan. With a quick glance behind me, I
figured out why. With the way I had been shifting and pressing on the base of
his willy, I had unintentionally forced it deeper into him, and he was rapidly
losing his eloquence to a myriad of less-than-human noises. It wouldn't be long
before he’d finish, which meant I’d be left out in the cold.
     I leaned down and swiped my tongue along the edge of his ear. “Hey
sweetheart, you listening?” He whimpered in response. “Great.” I rutted my hips
a little harder and moaned into his ear. He answered with a gaspy chirp.
“You’re not to cum unless I say you can, got it?” He nodded exuberantly, and I
chuckled breathily. “Good boy.”
     His hips jerked under me again, and any hopes of taking that exchange any
further vanished. I shut my eyes and allowed myself to rest atop his chest
again, faintly feeling his racing heartbeat under his skin. I rolled my hips
down harder, and he squealed, his arms suddenly wrapped around me and his hands
clutching the backs of my shoulders.
     “Fu-uck, Dave,” he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need to,
please, I can’t take it.”
     I hushed him and scraped my incisors over the flared filaments of his
gills, which was kinda counterproductive since it only made him cry out
vehemently. I raised my lips to his ear instead, letting them brush against the
velvety, soft skin before murmuring, “You can take it.” I swallowed thickly and
sunk my teeth into my lower lip for a couple seconds, attempting to hinder my
own unwarranted moans. “Just- mm…” Dammit. I tried again. “Just a little
longer.”
     He whined and tilted his hips up, which I assumed was a feeble endeavor to
present himself, but all it did was have me slip forwards on his slick dick.
Within a split second, I felt the firm edge of his bone bulge, the sheath that
was opened up around his hilt, press against my clit. My senses zeroed in on
the electrifying thrill of the sensation, and my body took the reins, moving on
its own. I ground against the hard edge until my thighs were trembling and I
could barely register the sound of Karkat’s begging. My mind lagged behind
while my mouth poured out garbled words mostly consisting of “Almost, almost,”
but I eventually got the right one out.
     “Now.”
     I kissed him, and he sobbed ecstatically into my mouth as all that had
been wound up deep within the both of us snapped, releasing an overwhelming
torrent of everything until it felt like every composite molecule in my body
was screaming “yes” as loud as he was. Even after it was all well and done, I
was left in a euphoric haze as I laid panting on top of Karkat. With the way
his chest was heaving under me, I could tell he was in the same state.
     I couldn’t stay like that on top of him even long enough to catch my
breath. The cold permeated our shared heat much sooner than I wished it did,
but regardless, I did not plan on just laying there and letting it engulf me.
It had already cooled the slimy residue of our shared fluids between my legs,
accompanying a shudder up my back with an outbreak of goosebumps, but I found
myself unable to get up. Karkat’s arms, which still encircled my upper body,
were too stubborn to be moved when I attempted to push myself off of him. He
whined and nestled his face into the crook of my neck, so I stopped fighting
his hold and relaxed on top of him, focusing on his warmth against my chest
instead of the cold on my back.
     “Karkat, I wanna get up,” I mumbled into his warm shoulder, which was
sticky with sweat. “I gotta go back to my room and clean up and shit.”
     He rolled over, resulting in the two of us laying on our sides in a kind
of awkward embrace. Still, he was holding me so close that I could feel the
movement of his little comrade when it retracted. My entire body jolted from
the friction against my sensitive clit.
     Karkat snickered. “My bad.”
     “Asshole.” I settled back down against him.
     “You know, you’re kind of obligated to spend the night with me, now,” he
muttered into my neck.
     “Says who?”
     “Says the one still wearing a fucking bra.”
     “Hey, that was a present. If anything, that should be even more of an
incentive to let me go shower off your nasty alien cum.”
     He hugged me tighter, somehow. “Mmm. You shouldn’t be complaining. Most of
my ‘nasty alien cum’ is now inside of me.”
     I fought against his gorilla grip for a little longer before slumping into
his chest. “I promise I’ll come back after I clean up, if that’s what you
want,” I grumbled into his clavicle. Apparently, that was all he wanted from
me. His hold on me immediately laxed, and I was granted the freedom squirm out
of his arms. I nearly toppled over when I got onto my feet but maintained my
balance long enough to pull my pants on, gather the rest of my clothes, and
flashstep to my room.
     After a hasty shower and a change of clothes, I returned to his place in
pajamas. I figured that since it was already so late, I would be welcomed to
stay the night. His door was unlocked, so I took it upon myself to barge in
like a true gentleman without knocking. After all, why bother waiting for him
to get up from where I assumed he was still curled up? I didn’t feel like
enduring any more bitching and moaning than usual.
     I quickly discovered just how wrong I was about the still-snug-as-a-bug-
in-a-mound-of-pillows thing. It looked like Karkat had cleaned up while I was
gone. The lingerie was folded neatly on his desk, the bits and pieces that had
fallen off the bedding pile were tucked back into their places, and he was
sitting on top in sweatpants with a book in his hands.
     “It’s about goddamn time,” he muttered without looking up at me. By the
time I crossed the carpet to where he was waiting, he’d shut his novel and
scooted down so that he was sitting closer to the base of the pile with his
back was comfortably settled against the front of it. “I didn’t even know it
was possible for ablutions to take that long.”
     “Oh shut up.” I dropped my ass right down next to his. “It was only like
twenty minutes.”
     “How haven’t you used up all of the water on this moronic rock? At this
rate, we’ll never be able to alchemize enough water to keep up when we run
out,” he sneered, although it sounded  halfhearted at most. I didn’t blame him.
We were both tired. By the time Karkat’s mouth shut again, his arms were around
me and his chin was resting on my head.
     “Yeah, yeah, I’ll work on it.” I seized the book from his hand and looked
at the title on the hard cover, which was in Alternian, of course. “What are we
reading?”
     He took it back before I had a chance to decipher what it was about. “None
of your business.”
     “Listen, man. If we’re gonna be bundled up here all night and cuddle like
girls, the least you can do is explain what the hell that book’s about,” I
argued.
     “It’d be easier to read it to you than to explain everything so far. I
doubt your miniscule encephalon can handle the complicated plotline without
sufficient imagery.”
     “Shit, go for it.” I got all comfy in his arms, snuggling my face into his
neck and closing my eyes as he began reading from what sounded like the very
beginning. Things got real cozy when he pulled a thick blanket from beside us
on the pile and covered us up without stumbling over more than a couple words.
Gradually, a deep purr rumbled forth from his chest and grew so loud that I
could feel the vibration from it over the gentle resonance of his voice. The
longer Karkat read, the sleepier I got without even realizing it until
inevitably, his voice began to sound underwater and drowsiness got the best of
me.
Chapter End Notes
     This update is my gift to all of you. Happy holidays, you filthy
     animals.
     Also, sorry for the wait. My schedule is kicking my ass, and my
     health hasn't been in a great place for the past couple of months,
     but things should start getting better once this semester is over. I
     can't make any promises about when I'll be finished with the next
     chapter, but I'll try not to take as long as I did with this one.
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