Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13062597.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Rose_Lalonde/Kanaya_Maryam
  Character:
      Rose_Lalonde, Kanaya_Maryam
  Additional Tags:
      Xenophilia, Meteorstuck, Underage_tag_up_there_because_of_Meteorstuck
      ages, Troll_Biology_(Homestuck), Human_Biology, Cunnilingus, Oral_Sex,
      Menstrual_Sex, Kanaya's_a_lesbian_vampire_what_do_you_expect, Blood
      Drinking, Biting, Safe_Sane_and_Consensual
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-25 Words: 3046
****** Xenobiological Forays ******
by enigmaticNeurologist
Summary
     In which a lesbian couple explores their respective anatomical
     differences and a rainbow drinker is exceedingly thrilled by the
     results.
Notes
     Just to let everyone know, when I use the terms "female", I'm
     referring to the biological sex, and not the gender. Therefore, folks
     with the physiology of the uterus/vagina combo are going to be
     referred to as female, and not as "people who happen to possess
     vaginas and may lie wherever they so deem correct for their own
     personal comfort on the gender spectrum, of which there are options
     of innumerable amount and specificity, etc." due to clarity of
     reading. Also, it's unlikely Rose, having left Earth as a 13 year old
     in 2009, and Kanaya, being an alien with a canonically dubious
     gender/sex link, would know about the difference. If this squicks you
     out, I would suggest avoiding this fic. Take care, and I hope you
     enjoy it!
See the end of the work for more notes
The slippered padding of Rose's feet across the cold floor of the meteor is
faint, but enough to cause you to lift your head up from your book. As soon as
your eyes meet hers, Rose speaks, "Kanaya, due to my latest foray into Karkat's
storytime, several questions have occurred to me." She continues her way over
to you, sitting down on the couch cushion by your side and letting her leg
brush against yours.
You flip the bookmark to its correct place and set the book on the arm of the
couch, "And I am to provide the answers, I presume?"
"That was the general intent, yes," Rose skims the cover of your novel, "May I
correctly say that the literary masterpiece you are currently engaging in
shares a genre with our beloved loud friend in the other room?"
A smile tugs at a corner of your lips, "That question is rather simple. Yes, it
does fall under the same broad category of romance, though mine is admittedly
under the more specific vacillatory paranormal concupiscence category."
"How intriguing," Rose's eyes dance as her mouth remains emotionless, "It just
so happens the vast majority of my questions are concerning concupiscence and,
to me, relatively paranormal participants."
"What a powerful coincidence we have stumbled upon," you raise a precisely
arched eyebrow.
"Indeed it is," Rose responds, meeting your gaze once again. "From what I have
gleaned from his books, your particular 'caste', so to say, had a particularly
strong involvement with ensuring the successful reproduction of your species.
However, the specific nuances of the reproduction are still rather unclear to
me. Novels involving high levels of bodice mutilation tend to gloss over the
biological perspective and choose instead to violently overuse the adjectives
'supple' and 'sultry'. With the matriorb that will indeed be created upon our
entrance into this new session, the task of ensuring successful troll
reproduction becomes entrusted to us."
You aren't sure how well you manage to cover up your flustered reaction to
Rose's use of 'us' instead of 'you', but if the heat racing to your ears gives
you any indication, it's rather poorly. "It would do us some good to go over
the basics at a level closer to that of a schoolfeed than that of a Troll
Sabrina Jeffries novel. The near constant repetition of the same four
descriptors admittedly detracts somewhat from the educational experience. If
you have any specific inquiries I will attempt to answer them to the best of my
abilities."
"Is there any biological necessity for buckets? It feels rather evolutionarily
backwards to develop a symbiotic relationship with an inanimate, manufactured
metal object."  
You nearly choke. You don't know what questions you were expecting, but this
one prompts a bubble of laughter from your chest and a strong jade saturation
of your cheeks.
"A cultural taboo already? My, I must be on the perfect track," Rose lets out a
ghostly exhale of a laugh.
"My apologies, you simply caught me off guard. Pails are transport and storage
receptacles. Without them, we would have to retain the copious amounts of
genetic slurry internally until we made the journey to the mother grub and
released it for the final steps of catalyzation, which would be rather hellish.
It's simply a mark of efficiency."
Rose's amused exhale is slightly more powerful this time, "How long of a
journey would this be?"
"Likely a perigee, or the rough equivalent of a human month."
At this, her exhalation transforms into true laughter, "Only a month! We have
to carry our developing young inside of us for nine months, and then eject it
forcefully from our bodies once it reaches roughly the size of my thigh."
Your mouth falls open in shock, "That is far more biologically dubious than
pail symbiosis. Correct me if I am on the wrong track here. Within human
females, there is a space sufficient to contain a growing human for
approximately a third of a sweep?"
Rose's dark lips are still curled at the edges, and it makes your bloodpusher
twinge, "Yes. We have an organ that happens to be designed for it, in fact."
Blinking a few times, you continue, "Does it have any function whenever it is
not actively involved in gestation?"
"Aside from causing mild irritation every month, not exactly."
"What, exactly, do you mean by that?
"Well, there's a blood-based buildup along the lining of it that is intended
for use as a ‘seeding ground’, if you will, for the inseminated egg. Since I'm
not planning on contacting any human males in that fashion, ever, it is shed
every month. This usually involves cramping, and the use of overtaxed
absorbency products."
A jolt ran through your body and you could feel a jade flush rise to your
cheeks and pool below your gastric sack. "Ah. I see. Shed, monthly. That is,
something that definitely happens to your species. Wow. Yes." You're definitely
not salivating. That would be ridiculous.
Rose quirks an eyebrow up, and the corner of her mouth follows, "In fact,
believe it or not, I'm currently in the wondrous throes of menstruation at this
moment."
"Oh?" Your voice pitches up an entire octave. "I hope you are enjoying your
absorbency products, in that case."
"Actually, I'm finding them rather insufficient for my needs. It's rather,
shall I say, heavy, today," Rose's pupils dilate as she glances at your lips.
You almost choke, yet again.
Your bloodpusher seems to have tripled in weight and speed, and you feel as
though you're floating, "Is this a proposition for a, shall I say, helping
hand?"
"Hand, tongue, take your pick," Rose's gaze causes a prickly and hot sensation
to course throughout your body.
"Would you suggest we shift our current location to somewhere more suitable for
this endeavor?" You're having a rather difficult time forming coherent
thoughts, much less coherent verbal sentences.
Rose is already leading you by the hand to the transportalizer, the one you
know leads to a space a few yards from the respiteblock she has chosen on this
meteor. You follow, the heat in your core pulsing gently but insistently. As
soon as Rose closes the door behind you, your hands are on the waistband of her
god-tier pants and your mouth is on hers.
"It is of my sincere opinion that you should currently be clothed in far less,"
you whisper against her painted lips, your voice far breathier than usual.
"That is generally the first step in this activity," Rose pulls away as she
pulls her top off, exposing toned, mahogany skin. No grub scars, which is
understandable but still unexpected. There does appear to be a divot in the
center of her abdominal region, and you have no idea what it's for. An
intricate lavender contraption remains over her ample rumblespheres, and the
clumsy brush of your hands over it elicits a pleasant sigh. You never really
had the lifestyle that made acquiring rumblespheres necessary, but you
certainly appreciate their presence on Rose. Her hands reach around to her
back, maneuvering some sort of clasp, and the lavender cloth falls away,
leaving an unobstructed view. Your hands hover, uncertain, and Rose places them
on her chest. "They aren't going to bite, although I admittedly wouldn't be
upset if you decided on biting as a course of action."
Without full cognisance of it, your teeth bare themselves slightly at her
remark, and Rose stifles a laugh. You blush violently and take your hands away,
somehow managing to extract yourself from your shirt without it getting tangled
up wildly in your horns. Rose's eyes fixate strongly on your grubscars, and she
extends a hand toward them.
"I will admit, I am unfamiliar with these..."
"Grubscars. They are vestigial remnants of the sets of legs I lost when I
underwent my first molt." It is now your turn to guide her hovering hands to
your sides, a gasp falling from your lips as she runs her hands over them.
"Though vestigial legs they may be, they still seem to serve an important
function," Rose is sporting a wry grin as she bends down and licks a stripe
across your grubscars and a bright zing of heat pulses straight from your side
to between your legs. You made an idiotic noise at the contact, but Rose only
chuckles and spends approximately a minute lavishing your grubscars in the
searing presence of her mouth. When she pulls away, she pulls you down to her
level, and you open to her kiss.
Amidst the wonders known colloquially as sloppy makeouts, Rose places your
hands on her rumblespheres, and one of your fingers slides across the lighter,
pink nubs there. You feel her breathing hitch, and you repeat the motion more
mindfully. During a break for air, she speaks up, "Not that this isn't a
fantastic way to spend time, but I did make an offer prior to this, and it
would be exceedingly unfortunate if it had to be rescinded." Rose hooks her
thumbs into her waistband, "Don't you agree?"
You swallow, the soft taste of her tongue still acutely residing upon your own.
Your bloodpusher is doing wild acrobatics in your chest, and you move your
hands to cover hers, "Yes, I would be very much pleased to take you up on that
offer." Rose sits on her concupiscent platform as she slowly removes her pants,
and you track every motion of it. Slow enough that she could stop you if she
wanted to, you hook your fingers in the waistband of her underwear and slide it
down and off her legs. You note faintly the rusty red absorbency product
adhered to it, and ensure that only the clean side touches the ground. Rose's
legs are relaxed, and the heady iron scent that has been hovering gently around
her for the past few days intensifies sharply.
Your bulge writhes in its sheath as you lock your jade eyes on Rose's newly
exposed anatomy. Blond curls form a patch above a dripping slit, and you don't
even know if you're breathing at this point. The similarities to a nook are
stunning, although she doesn't seem to have any protective bone plates, merely
hair and skin. Faintly, above you, you hear Rose say, "Please, don't hesitate
to continue," and your hands tighten from their place on her thighs. Salivating
strongly, you apply light pressure to Rose's legs and they fall open, leaving
her exposed. You lean in and slide a finger between her folds, and Rose inhales
shakily. Pulling your finger out, you look at the red over your grey skin,
shudder, and tentatively lick it. Its taste coats your tongue, sweet and
intoxicating with a metallic bite.
Your nook clenches as your bulge slides out of its sheath, and you moan.
Flicking your gaze up to meet Rose's, you dive back in, this time pressing your
tongue directly to the source. Rose whispers your name reverently as you lick
into her, voice pitching up sharply. She's hot and wet, your tongue sinking
deep into her as you clean her of every drop of fluid you can reach. Your head
begins to buzz as you remember that air is, indeed, something slightly more
necessary to survival than tongue-fucking.
“Not that this isn’t, phenomenal,” Rose pants, as you too catch your breath,
shifting your actions from probing Rose's interior to mapping her exterior, “I
often find it, holy shit, difficult to, fuck, reach the metaphorical finish
line, without attention to the elusive nerve bundle situated slightly north of,
fuck, right there." Amidst your cartographic adventure, you happened across
what appeared to be a condensed bulge under a hood of skin, and your light
teasing of it caused Rose to involuntarily buck her hips into your face. 
Your teeth press against Rose's thigh as you smile. Though she tastes better
deeper in, this location shift prompts her labored breathing to change into
broken whines punctuated by soft curses, and a steady mantra of your name. Your
nook throbs, clenching around nothing, and a fuzzy warmth zings back and forth
between your bloodpusher and your bulge. Your tongue traces steady circles
around Rose's pseudo-bulge, and you gently insert a pair of fingers into her
nook. She immediately tightens around them, her breath ragged. The steady pulse
of blood under Rose's skin jumps, and you feel her thighs tense. "There, fuck,
don't stop," Rose's eyes flutter shut, her hips twitching into your touch.
"Kanaya, I'm--," a gorgeous moan falls from her lips, and you feel her walls
pulse repeatedly around your fingers as she comes. 
Violet eyes meet your own, pupils blown open, "I believe reciprocation is now
in order," Rose breathes. 
"That would be, lovely," your voice catches as Rose digs her thumbs into your
grubscars as she helps you onto the concupiscent platform. 
Within seconds, she leaves a trail of dark lipstick marks down your stomach.
Rose deftly removes your skirt, which you are thankful for, as it currently
only serves as an obstruction. She pauses as her gaze fixates on the writhing
bulge that is barely hidden by your soaked underwear.  "The verb twining is
often mentioned in those romance novels, but until this moment I never quite
appreciated the prehensility required for that to occur." Rose's throat bobs as
she swallows, and her hooded eyes grow even darker.
You clench again, "Rose, please." Her fingers slip under the waistband of your
panties and the first brush of her soft fingertips against your bulge causes
the pulse in your nook to deepen further. You slide your hands down, removing
the last bit of cloth from your body. Fingers blaze trails across your thighs,
and at the sensation of one opening your nook's protective sheath and slipping
inside you, you almost feel your bloodpusher speed triple. Heavy pants fall
from your lips, and you're faintly aware your hips bucking up into Rose's touch
as she continues her ministrations. 
Your eyes are closed, and everything becomes a sensual blur. The heady scent of
Rose, thick with iron and sex, combines intoxicatingly with the remnants of her
taste on your tongue. Soft sounds escape you at each twitch of Rose's hands,
and upon hitting your aural canals, they contribute to the coiling tension in
your core.  
With a twist of her hand, Rose suddenly two fingers deep in your nook, her
other hand serving as a trellis for your bulge. You feel the press of her
pillow soft rumblespheres against your chest, quickly followed by the seal of
her mouth on yours. You're grinding down onto her hand unabashedly at this
point, and your breathing is too rough to sustain anything other than short,
sloppy kisses. You accidentally hook your teeth onto Rose's bottom lip, and she
moans into your mouth. The taste of blood blooms brightly on your tongue and
you shiver at the feeling. 
Rose pulls gently at your earlobe with her teeth, and in a breathy whisper,
says, "As I said previously, biting is wholly accepted, even welcomed." Her
grip on your bulge tightens and in a lovely feedback loop your nook tightens on
her. The constant shifting of your hips leads Rose's fingers to brush against
your seedflap and you keen, "Fuck, Rose, there. Open it." 
Through your incoherency, Rose seems to get the message, and gently hooks her
fingertip over your seedflap. You can feel each clench of your nook down to
your toes. "Yes, just, pull it towards you," your hearing is starting to fade
into a buzz. Rose obliges and you fall forward, your teeth sinking into her
shoulder. The whine Rose lets out seems to curl into you just as well as her
fingers, and heat courses throughout your entire body. You feel your seedflap
open completely, the beginning static-filled waves of pleasure flow through you
as you start to release your genetic material. Unable to speak, your next
inhale consists primarily of the metallic tang of Rose's blood. Your nook
throbs, and Rose keeps her fingers inside of you, maintaining steady circles on
your seedflap. 
You feel a sob climb out of your throat as your orgasm's crescendo ends in a
strong pulse of hazy bliss that inhibits any and every other sensation. 
Faintly, as Rose detangles herself from you and your bulge begins to retract,
you notice that your teeth are still firmly planted in Rose's shoulder.  You
dislodge yourself, softly pressing your tongue to the red marks you left. They
seem to have stopped bleeding, likely from the clotting agent in your saliva. 
Your ears are still ringing, and everything seems to be moving more slowly than
normal. 
"This is a monthly occurrence, correct?" Lavender eyes burn into jade. 
"Yes," you feel Rose's smile as she kisses you, "Although it would be a shame
if its presence became a limiting factor."
A laugh bubbles up from your throat as you shift your weight to sink against
Rose. A pleasant tiredness is tugging on your eyelids. "I wholeheartedly agree.
Additionally, it would be prudent for us to engage in some variety of ablutions
before we become permanently glued together by our present ensconcement in
genetic material."
"Kanaya, are you implying that you do not wish to become adhered to my side for
the entirety of the foreseeable future? I am wounded, truly," Rose quirks an
eyebrow at you as she slowly licks a stripe up her finger, removing drying
genetic material.
Your exhausted bulge gives a twitch of interest, and you smile, "If I could had
to choose someone in all of paradox space to become forever attached to via my
own drying concupiscent fluids, it would be you."
"How romantic. You truly know how to sweep a lady off of her feet," Rose's eyes
sparkle when she kisses you, simultaneously capchalouging her sheets and
lifting you off of the bed. "I believe I'm going to have to incinerate these,
but I do think it was worth it."
Arms around one another, disheveled clothes hastily reapplied, the two of you
take the quickest transportalization route to the communal ablution block.
Messy makeup lies pressed across skin, layers of green and red stain articles
of clothing, and mirror smile split faces. 
You're going to have to do this more often.  
 
End Notes
     I still can't really believe that no one has written one of these
     yet. I mean, anatomical female + vampire = period sex. Well, if what
     you want isn’t there, you have to make it, I guess ;););););););)etc.
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