Work Text:
twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]
TA: kk.
TA: kk iit2 been more than twenty-eiight hour2 2iince you’ve talked to anyone.
TA: tz ii2 worriied, ii am worriied, gz iis worried.
TA: KK iif you dont an2wer 2oon iim breakiing iinto your hiive and 2trangeliing you.
CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT SOLLUX?
TA: to know youre okay, dumba22.
CG: IM FINE. GO AWAY.
TA: wow yeah ii am completely conviinced youre okay, that wa2 2o convincing.
CG: FUCK OFF.
TA: that2 iit 2hiit2taiin iim coming over.
twinArmageddons [TA] has ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]
CG: WAIT WHAT?
You slam your husktop shut and fume. Karkat has been a pain in your ass for as long as you’ve known him but lately he’s been worse; avoiding you, snapping at Gamzee, and Terezi wears he actually threw out one of his romcoms. Needless to say, you’ve been worried, especially since Gamzee was away visiting Tavros, who apparently lives in the boonies where internet connection is hard to catch. You’d wait for him to get online and talk some sense into Karkat, but oh wait, KK isn’t answering his messages anymore!
Grumbling internally at your fuckup of a best friend, you pull on some shoes and head out. Karkat sometimes forgets that he lives approximately half an hour away, unless he’s fretting over your sorry ass in which case you can expect him within a night of not responding to his pathetic attempts at casual conversations. Last time he made you sit through two seasons of some show with a lot of quadrant flipping. You recall he cried at the ending; it was hilarious. His tears had been clear, though, so you still don’t know what colour’s behind his hemononymous symbol. You take heart in the fact that his eyes will soon begin to show and you can rub whatever he’s been hiding in his stupid face.
No one bothers you on the way over; most trolls your age are busy this time of night. In the distance, you hear the distant sounds of either murder or someone FLARPing. It could be both, and either way you really don’t care. The air is cool and dry, and you make a mental note to leave your hive more often. You won’t follow through, probably, but who knows.
Karkat’s hivestem is quiet, but not with the eerie stillness that comes after a culling, so that rules out one option. You march all the way up to his floor and locate his door. It’s shut firmly, no new gashes or bloodstains. You knock once, listening for movement. The sound of someone ruffling through paper or something similar freezes; no one answers.
“KK,” you rasp out, forgetting that it’s been almost two weeks since you last spoke out loud. “I know you’re in there, open the damn door.”
There’s a pause, then the sound of footsteps. They pause right in front of the door; you idly prepare to whip out your psionics if need be.
“No.”
It’s definitely Karkat; you relax.
“KK, do not make me break down this door,” you warn, and you feel your fingers tingle with psychic energy.
“Fuck off, Sollux, I’m perfectly fine,” he does not sound fine. In fact, he sounds like he’s been crying. Your vasculars squeeze uncomfortably and you prepare to bust your way in. Just as you’re about to wreck some serious shit, the sound of a lock being flipped makes you pause. Karkat lets the door open a crack and you catch sight of his face. “See?”
He does not look good. His hair closely resembles a dead animal and underneath his messy bangs he peers at you with half lidded eyes. The bags underneath look more like bruises, all mottled yellow and… purple?
“Shit, KK,” you wince. Karkat glares at you half-heartedly, arm tensing like he’s going to slam the door in your face.
“You really know how to make a troll feel good,” he snaps, but holds the door open. “Now get out of my fucking hallway before one of the neighbors calls the drones on account of some scrawny dunderfuck breathing everyone’s air and generally being a complete waste and a nuisance.”
You duck into his hive, eyeing him suspiciously the whole time.
“What the fuck happened to you?” You ask when he slams the door shut behind you. He’s only about three inches shorter than you are, but when he slouches he just looks plain small. He looks like that now, leaning against the wall like he can barely stand.
“Oh nothing, just realized what a complete fucking waste of space I am, same as usual,” he buries his hands in his pockets and studies the floor. He’s not wearing shoes and his feet poke out from slightly oversized jeans. You want to hug him or punch him or at least make him take a fucking shower.
“KK,” you’re a little unnerved at how freaked out you feel. “When did you last eat?”
Karkat shrugs. “Dunno, like, a day ago I guess.”
“Not eating is supposed to be my thing, thief, what the hell are you playing at?”
He seems to shrink in on himself, still studying the grubby floor. “It’s not like I forgot, shitwagon, it just wasn’t worth it.” His voice is raspy when he talks, and you wonder when the last time he drank any fluids was. “I can take care of myself; I’ll eat later so just get out and leave me alone.”
You hesitate for a moment, and then square your soldiers.
“Alright, let’s go,” you say, and start toward him.
“What,” he tries to scramble away but you catch him with your psionics and lift him into the air. He flails at you, baring his teeth, but you hold him close to the ceiling and march him out of the room.
“Where’s your ablution block,” you ask, staring down a hallway.
“Go fuck yourself!” he shouts, wincing as the sound rips through his throat. Ah, better already. You contemplate bouncing him around the house until he tells you, but you’re not that cruel.
“Come on KK, you need to wash the protective layer of angst off, you’ll feel better,” you tell him and he sneers at you, crossing his arms. You are struck with the need to punch him again. Instead you turn him upside down and bring him closer. For a moment he looks terrified and you laugh.
“You fucking suck,” he snarls, about a foot away from your face, arms still crossed. His hair is sticking to his forehead in greasy clumps; it’s disgusting. You wonder if this is how you look when you get on one of your coding benders.
“Come on KK,” you stick your tongue out and lean closer. Karkat tries to scramble away, but you’ve got him right where you want him.
“Fine, fine, fuck you, fine,” he shouts just before tongue makes contact. You chuckle to yourself and flip him right side up. “It’s the first door on the left, and if you try to do that again I’ll rip your bulge out and strangle you with it.”
“Kinky,” you say, and he splutters at you. You’re relieved, but the battle hasn’t even begun yet.
“You can put me down, you know,” he growls when you open the door to his tiny ablution block and float him through.
“Nope,” you say, but you gently set him down on the tiled floor. He hunches his shoulders and glares at you; you wait. “What?” you ask after a long pause.
“I am not,” he enunciates clearly, face darkening, “stripping in front of you.”
“Too bad,” you say, not budging. “I’m not leaving until you’re in that shower.”
“Thower,” he says with a sneer. Nervously, he fingers the hem of his shirt.
“Fine, princess, I will allow you to preserve your modesty,” you turn around with a long-suffering sigh. A shirt hits you in the back of the head and you laugh, leaving it there.
“Don’t turn around,” Karkat says, so you don’t. A minute later the water starts and the shower curtain rattles and you figure it’s safe to turn around. The tops of Karkat’s horns peek out over the top and you can’t help but grin.
“Don’t forget to wash behind your ears,” you prod at the curtain where you know his face is. He swats at you through it, making a noise of pure outrage.
“What are you, my lusus? Get the fuck out of my ablution block!”
“Fine, but only because I’m going to make you dinner,” you tell him and leave the room before he can protest.
His hive is a mess, but only marginally worse than your own. You locate the food prep block easily. There’s not much to work with, except you find some squawkbeast soup in the corner. It’s a little dusty, but the eat-by date is still good so you figure it will do nicely. You grab a pot from some corner of the block and fill it with water and the soup, then turn the box like food heating system to medium. While you wait for Karkat to come out of the ablution block you straighten up around his hive, picking up his old clothes with your psionics and flinging them into a pile. When you’re finished you stare at them with faint disgust; some are stained with a rust-brown unknown substance. Grubsauce?
“What the fuck,” Karkat says, and you realize the water’s been off for a few minutes and you hadn’t noticed. He’s wrapped in just a towel and dripping all over the floor. You’re pleased to note he looks much more alert than before; his eyes are faintly brighter and he’s not slouching as much. The towel covers most of his body, but you can’t help but notice his legs. Sweeps of practice with various fighting styles he’s lectured you about often have sculpted him into one fit troll. You wonder if he has abs, and blink at his midsection curiously.
“Sollux?” He raises an eyebrow at you, still clutching at his towel.
“What?” you ask, blinking and looking up at his face. He pauses, and then shakes his head and turns away, ambling down the hallway presumably toward his respite block to change into actual clothes. You try not to watch him walk away, but you notice that his legs aren’t the only finely sculpted bits of troll on him. What, can’t a guy platonically notice his friend has a nice ass? How else are you supposed to give him uplifting compliments when he’s stressed out, which is always.
Then you remember you left soup sitting unattended over live heat and you dash for the food preparation block. The soup is fine, you are the best at cooking, and by the time Karkat is back with clean clothes you’ve spooned some into a bowl for him.
“Eat,” you press the bowl into his hands forcefully. He takes it and stares down at the soup like he doesn’t remember what it’s for. “With your mouth,” you helpfully remind him, dropping a spoon into it and stepping back. Some of the broth sloshes out and burns him; Karkat winces. You pull out a chair at his dinner table.
“I know that,” he snaps at you, releasing the bowl with one hand and grabbing the spoon. You watch his expression change from mild irritation to hunger when he takes the first bite. He takes the offered chair and the rest vanishes at an astonishing speed. You head back into the prep block to grab the rest and by the time you come back the bowl is completely empty. Karkat looks embarrassed when you pour him the rest.
“So,” you say.
“Tho,” he echoes you through a mouthful.
“You’re welcome,” you grin. Karkat’s shoulder jerks and you fully expect him to flip you off.
“I…” he sets the spoon down, staring into the depths of his soup like it knows all the answers to the existential questions he asked you that one time you got him high. “I’m sorry, shit, Sollux, you shouldn’t have had to do this.”
This was not the direction you meant this conversation to go.
“It’s fine,” you say, even though it is not fine, he could’ve fucking died. “You do the same for me all the time.”
“Yeah, but still…” Karkat shrugs.
“Okay,” you make to sit down and then hesitate. “Do you want some water?” you ask, figuring you could use some yourself.
Karkat hesitates and you take that as a yes. Or if not, well, it’ll do him good. You root around in his cupboards until you locate two glasses and bring them back to the table. Karkat takes a grateful gulp.
“So,” you say again. “What’re those stains on your shirts?”
Karkat freezes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. You take a measured sip of water and raise an eyebrow at him.
“Forget the pail, KK?” you laugh. He turns a funny colour and pauses mid slurp.
“You perverted fucktard,” he coughs, choking on his soup.
“No, I’m serious, it looks like you’ve had Tavros over for fun times, I’m jealous.”
“I hate you,” he wheezes, accidentally elbowing his glass off the table. It shatters against his foot and you’re on your feet immediately. Karkat swears violently, pushing himself away.
“KK, chill, let me look,” you snap at him when he fucking sits on his foot, hiding the wound from you. “Now is not the time for your weird blood-phobic whatever.”
“Back the fuck up,” he warns you, one hand flailing at his side where he normally has his sickle. There’s water on the floor and soaked into his pant leg, and the blood, a dark reddish-brown has begun to bleed through. You are thoroughly confused.
“What the fuck is your problem?” you use your psionics to pin his arms to his side and advance on him. In desperation, Karkat twists out of the chair and tries to wriggle away. You catch his foot and pull him to you, peeling his jean’s cuff back.
You stare.
“Oh,” you say. His eyes are wide and he’s sweating, splayed on his back in front of you. “Shit.”
Karkat pulls his foot out of your grasp and tries to wriggle away again, breathing hard. You’ve still got his arms pinned. When you realize this you let him go, taking a step forward.
“KK, no, dude, calm down, I’m not-” He flips onto his feet and grabs a nearby lamp, shifting fluidly into a fighting stance with the lamp held out in front of him.
“Don’t come near me,” he hisses, edging backward.
“KK,” you try again, holding up your hands in the universal ‘calm your fucking tits’ gesture. With minute horror you recognize the stains as old blood. “I don’t care,” he freezes. You take the moment to tap one of your smaller horns. “Remember?”
The fight doesn’t go out of him but the lamp is lowered about an inch.
“If you’re going to call the drones..” he begins, and you notice he’s shaking.
“After I just spent all that energy saving your ass?” You snort, rolling your eyes at him. Granted, you only forced him into the shower and made him dinner, but still. You feel a little betrayed that after all the shit you’ve gone through together, he actually thinks you’re going to call the drones on him.
Karkat’s shoulders slump. He puts the lamp back and sits down, burying his face in his hands. Your chest feels tight for some reason and you kneel down next to him.
“KK?” You ask, hesitantly reaching for his shoulder.
“Go away,” he says, not even looking up, and sniffs.
“You’re a moron,” you reach out and pull him into you, wrapping your arms around him. “Seriously, you are the dumbest troll I know,” he twists and leans into your shoulder, crying silently. You hesitate a moment, then rub his back and hold him. “Beside Eridan, I mean, but you’re pretty dumb. Jegus, KK, what the hell am I going to do about you?” He freezes but you don’t stop. “I’m supposed to be the dysfunctional one, seriously.” He laughs, obviously relieved, but halfway through it becomes a sob.
“You better not be getting pale for me,” he says to your shoulder. “I’m a moirailed man.”
“Shh,” you say. “Only platonic assgrabs now.”
You both sit on the floor for a while, until he stops crying. You hold him the whole time, soaking up the warmth he emits like an angry little space heater.
“…Do you want to watch a movie?” He finally asks, picking up his head from where it had formed a permanent dent in your shoulder. You absently wipe a tear from his cheek.
“Only if it’s not a shitty one,” you say. He glares at you.
“We’re watching In Which a Legislacerator and His Kismesis are Locked in a Room for a Perigee and Must Put Aside Their-”
“I said something good,” you make a face. Karkat punches you in the shoulder and pushes himself up. Where he was touching you feels cold.
“Too bad, slimelicker, we’re watching it,” he wipes his eyes with one arm and turns toward the first room. Next to the pile of clothes you made is his stack of movies. His hair is still damp and it makes him look smaller; his pants trail on the ground when he walks and he look so fucking pitiful in his too-big clothes, and so tired. Your stomach dips and you feel your face heat up while you watch him move around. You’re still lying on the floor. Karkat pauses at the screen he has mounted on the wall, turning to stare at you.
“Sollux?” He asks, concerned.
“Yeah?” You blink at him, trying to smile. It must not work, because his eyebrows draw together and he seems to shrink.
“Are you okay?” he takes a hesitant step forward. You are struck by the need to kiss this boy, right now. You refrain.
“Perfect,” you force yourself to grin, fangs grazing your bottom lip. Karkat still looks worried, but he turns away and goes back to setting up the movie.
You pull yourself together and stand, pulling a few cushions and other objects from the corners of the room to make a pile. When finished, you collapse unceremoniously onto it; something honks and you leap right back onto your feet, cussing loudly. Karkat whirls around and stares, one hand over his mouth. You’re breathing hard, tying to calm down, and his shoulders shake.
“If you laugh…” you warn him, forcibly slowing your breath, but it’s too late. His hand slips and a single snicker escapes. You flush yellow, turning your back on him and digging around in the pile until you find the offending horn and throw it from the block.
“I’m not even sorry,” he says, and the tightness in your chest eases some. You grumble good naturedly at each other just like old times and eventually get situated. Karkat leans against your chest as the movie starts up, and you pray to god he doesn’t move because if your bulge unsheathes and he feels it you will have so much explaining to do. You wrap an arm around his chest and try to focus on Troll Robert Downey JR hate-flirting with Troll Mark Ruffalo, but it’s hard and your attention keeps shifting.
“Hey, KK,” you look down halfway through, to ask about a plot point because hey this is kind of interesting to find he’s fallen asleep. You go all warm, looking down at him, then go back to watching the movie. Since he’s asleep, you figure, it can’t hurt if maybe your hand covers his, spread over his chest. You don’t wake him by trying to get him into his respite block, partly out of selfishness and partly out of pity for him. It’s obvious he’s tired, and honestly you’re not that awake yourself.
Toward the end, about when both trolls leap from the building after flipping quadrants twice (you see why this is one of Karkat’s favourites) you find yourself growing tired. The movie ends and you use your psionics to turn the screen off, before settling back. You fall asleep to the sound of Karkat quietly breathing.
You have nightmares, of course, you’re not in sopor what did you expect, but they’re not so bad. After a while they fade into something much softer, full of pale grey skin and soft scars and vibrant, bright red eyes.
You wake up first. Sometime while you were sleeping, Karkat shifted and so did you. Your arm is still draped over him, your hands linked together, and his ass is pressed against your pelvis. You go a ghastly mustard yellow when you realize this and try to roll away, but Karkat’s hand tightens when you try.
“Mmh,” he rolls over toward you, tangling your leg and pressing his forehead into your chest. He’s obviously still asleep, but your heartbeat picks up.
“KK,” you whisper. He makes groans. “KK, let go of my hand.” The hand around yours tightens once, then releases your hand. You sigh in relief, but then Karkat wriggles loser and loops an arm around your side, pressing his hips against yours. You freeze.
“Warm…” he mumbles against your collarbone.
“KK,” you say again, and his eyes wrench open.
“Shit,” is all he says, scrambling away. “Fuck, Sollux, I’m sorry.”
You chuckle, relieved, “It’s cool, I always knew you were a cuddler.” His face turns a dark red and you laugh harder.
“…Fuck you,” he finally says, getting to his feet. “Fuck you twice over; I’m going to shower,” he turns his back on you and flounces off. Your smile disappears as you watch him go; he still has a completely fantastic ass. You lay back and try not to think about it, or how warm he was, or how he felt pressed against you while you wait for the water to start. You wait, and you wait, and finally you get up and head to the door of the ablution block. You listen and hear the sound of heavy breathing.
“KK?” you say, knocking on the door. For a second there’s no sound at all.
“What the fuck, Sollux,” Karkat’s voice is slightly off, and you frown.
“You okay? I thought you were going to shower.”
“I am, jegus, can’t a guy take his fucking time?” His voice is a little higher than normal, and after the night you just had you’re worried. The water starts immediately but you’re not fooled.
“What’s wrong?” You ask.
“Nothing,” Karkat all but shouts. “Fuck off!”
“I’m coming in,” you say before you can think better of it. The door’s locked but your psionics unlock it at the same moment you twist the handle and open the door. Karkat screams something incomprehensible and you slam it again immediately, face burning.
“I’m sorry,” you shout at the wood, eyes screwed shut and impossibly turned on.
“I am going to kill you,” Karkat says, his voice up an octave.
“I am beyond sorry, KK, shit, I am the sorriest piece of ass in existence, I bleed apologies,” you babble, unable to get the image of Karkat with his bulge twisted around his hand out of your head.
Karkat doesn’t say anything more so you wander away, fighting the need to shove your hand down your pants and relieve the tension. Instead you sit at the dinner table and will yourself to stop thinking. You wish you’d brought your husktop with you, so maybe you could bury yourself in codes or talk to AA. She’d probably know what to do.
You sit at the table and try to focus on AA and possible advice she would give you. Nothing helpful comes up, because you are not going to kiss him and you are not going to go back to his ablution block and help him out. You wait for him to come out, and just as an hour’s gone by and you think he’s never going to come out and you should just leave because you ruined everything forever like you always do, Karkat emerges.
He’s clean again, but with the same clothes as before. His face is red but he still sits down at the table with you, clearly deep in thought. No one speaks for a long moment.
“Are we still friends?” he blurts out right before you attempt to make awkward conversation. You blink at him.
“Of course,” you say and he visibly relaxes.
“Okay,” he says. “Also can we please never talk about what just happened? Ever?”
You allow your head to fall forward onto the table, unable to look him in the eyes.
“Yes, please,” you say.
“Good,” he laughs, somewhat awkwardly, and you join in.
“Are you at least feeling better today?” You ask him. Karkat nods, looking sheepish.
“Yeah, I guess I just needed some sleep and a swift kick in the pants,” he admits. “I still feel kind of fucked up though,” at that moment his stomach chooses an opportunity to growl ominously. Karkat turns pink.
“…Do you wanna go out somewhere?” you ask, smirking. “Because you don’t have a lot around your hive.”
Karkat makes a face. “I don’t feel fit for public consumption at the moment,” he says, gesturing to the bruising around his eyes.
“Alright, then at least come over so I can make you some troll ramen or something,” you say, standing up.
“Fine, fucking mother hen,” but he’s smiling again. Something in your chest flutters unpleasantly.
There’s still no one outside when you two leave; you’re not even sure anyone’s awake. It’s just past sunset and most kids your age, (eight sweeps or more) are still tucked into their recuperacoons, fighting nightmares and who knows what else.
You get to your hive with minimal damage, except for when you teasingly flicked Karkat on the horn and he tried to strangle you. Every time he touches you your heartbeat speeds up and you pray he doesn’t notice.
“You’re a fucking disgrace,” he’s saying, loudly, as you ascend the steps to your hive. There are a lot of stairs, you hate stairs so much, you’re half-tempted to float yourself up with psionics. You knew there was a good reason you barely ever leave.
Inside, your husktop is still out. You let Karkat into your food preparation block while you check your messages. Both Gamzee and Terezi have left you long, extensive texts asking after Karkat. Aradia’s also left you a message, about her day and these new ruins she found, along with an invite to come see her next perigee. You fire off a quick reply at all three of them promising to talk more later before shutting your husktop.
“How,” says Karkat, appearing in the doorway, “the fuck do you live on nothing but the swill in here?”
“You only had soup,” you remind him.
“I was going to go shopping,” he growled.
“I bet I have soup,” you say, ignoring him. “AA brought me some last season, I think.”
“You’re disgusting, and I hate you platonically,” Karkat says as you stride past him.
You were right- there are a few cans of some sort of soup in the pantry. Triumphantly, you carry them out. Karkat looks completely unimpressed.
“Do you have anything to cook it in?” he asks. You set the cans down and flip him out as you dig through a bunch of cooking things some of your friends made you buy a few sweeps back. In fact, you come back up with a pot you remember Karkat had pressed you into purchasing. You set about collecting the water and turning the stove on, but when you open one of the cans you grab it by the wrong part and slice your fingers open.
“Fuck,” you announce, surprised more than anything.
“You complete waste of space,” Karkat sighs and snatches the lid and the can from you, setting the lid down in the sink. He pushes himself into your space, performing the menial task of transferring the soup to the pot and adding water. You don’t move, just let him work in front of you.
“Uh,” you say.
“See?” He twists so he can glare at you, a little pink around the ears. His face is only a few inches away from yours. “It’s fucking easy if you’re not a complete wriggler,” he takes a breath, preparing to monologue, but you kiss him instead. He drops the soup can but you don’t stop, molding your mouth to his.
He’s softer than you expected, and fever warm. You pull back quickly, feeling your face burn.
“I’m,” you try to apologize, but then Karkat grabs you by the shirt and kisses you hard. Your mouth slips open in surprise and he takes it as an invitation, brushing your bottom lip with his tongue and pushing into your mouth. You kiss him back after a moments hesitation, grinding your tongue against his.
Your face burns and your stomach drops and you need to have more of him, now. You press against him, sliding one knee between his legs. He grinds against you, one hand tangling itself in your hair to pull you closer.
“Shit,” he whispers, pulling away for breath. Your head’s still spinning. He gives you no time to recover, leaning back up for more. You gladly give it to him, stroking his hair and groaning. This is better than caffeine or mind honey; you’re completely sober but your nerve endings burn. One of your hands slip under Karkat’s shirt and you stroke his ribs, and he shudders against you. You can feel his bulge against your leg and you know he can feel yours. He feels stupidly good against you, all muscle and soft skin. He moans against your mouth, one hand tangling in your hair to keep you close.
Unfortunately the smell of smoke separates you with a jolt.
“Fuck,” Karkat yelps, glancing over at your breakfast. The top’s spilled over, and you move back to let him handle it. Your lips feel pleasantly kissed and you figure this means you have full reign to stare at Karkat’s ass as he tends to your soup.
“Is it salvageable?” you ask, trying to remember how to use your tongue for speech.
“It’s fine,” Karkat’s facing away but you can see the tips of his ears and they’re bright red. “It’s done too; where the fuck do you keep the bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” you stay still for a moment before you remember that it’s one foot in front of the other, yes just like that. You get the bowls and pass them to Karkat. He takes them and ladles you breakfast with a large spoon that was a gift from Feferi last sweep on Twelfth Perigee Eve.
“I,” Karkat turns to you, leaning against your cabinet. “I’m not fucking sorry,” he says, finally.
“Uh,” you say, intelligently, staring down into your bowl. “Good, because I’m not sorry either. I’m, fuck, KK, I think I’m, I mean.”
“Yeah,” he stares down at his soup too, grinning despite himself. “That was, I mean, me too okay?”
“Really?” You look up.
“Yeah,” he looks around for another, smaller spoon. “Also, I’m making an official memo and it’s called: Sollux Captor needs to kiss me more often, possibly all the time.”
“That is surprisingly not as dumb as most of your memos,” you admit.
“My memos are never dumb, you’re just too flagrantly stupid to understand them,” he says, haughtily, and stalks his way out of the room to where you have a table and several piles. You follow him, feeling better than you have in a long time. You eat with the normal amount of poking and prodding, and this time no one drops any glass on their feet. After, you leave your dishes on the table and retire to a pile.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” you ask him, lounging across a pile of old computer parts and towels.
“Not really,” he says, crawling over you and propping his head up on your chest. “I kind of just want to talk.”
“Okay, sure,” you take a lock of his hair and twirl. Karkat glares at you and, meeting your eyes the whole time, takes the errant finger between his teeth. You are turned on despite yourself. Karkat looks interested, and releases your finger to surge upward.
“Huh,” he says, and kisses you again. He’s so hot, you really can’t handle the way he presses his tongue into your mouth and tastes you. It’s like he’s hates your guts and loves you all at the same time, but it’s flushed instead of black, and you moan up into him. He fists one hand in your hair and slides the other under your shirt, trailing his claws over your side. You take this opportunity to run your hands over his ass, pulling him closer.
“KK, are you sure about this?” you ask him, pulling away to breathe. “If you want to take this slow we can,” you say this but you can’t take your hands off his jeans. He doesn’t seem to mind, just pushes himself against your thigh and considers your words.
“We can go slow tomorrow,” he says, his face still a lovely shade of red. Some of your blood, from where one of his fangs must have pricked you, is on the corner of his mouth. You regretfully remove one hand to wipe it away. “Fuck you Sollux, you’ve already bulge blocked me once today.”
“I did not,” you protest. His claws dig into your hips and his tongue swipes at your finger, licking the blood from it.
“You so did,” he frowns at you. “Who the fuck can go back to jerking off when the object of their fucking fantasy barges in and catches them in the act? I was going to drown myself but I figured you’d probably just bring me back and we’d be back where we started, dying slowly of organ-draining misery.” He blushes harder, if possible. It’s stupidly cute and your chest aches. You relieve it a little by giving him a half-kiss apology at the corner of his mouth.
“Object of their fantasy?” you say, pulling away. He takes your glasses from your face and folds them, setting them somewhere out of reach.
“It was totally not my fault, fuck you for breathing,” he grumbles.
“I wasn’t complaining,” you say and kiss him again, deeper this time. It’s slower than before; he languidly grinds his tongue against yours, and straddles you.
You keep one hand on his ass, digging your claws into it and pulling him flat against you. With the other you trace underneath his shirt, feeling his muscles flex beneath his skin as he moves with you. His mouth is warm and he tastes like the soup you just shared. It’s kind of comforting, as well as hot. Your bulge stirs in your jeans and you can feel his pressing against your stomach.
He tugs at the hem of your shirt and you pause long enough to pull it over your head and fling it somewhere sideways. He’s smirking at you, one hand on your chest. Your skin feels warmer where he touches it and your whole body is sharply electric. He leans down and kisses you beneath your ear, then further down on your neck. You arch into him, making a soft noise at the back of your throat. Karkat shivers and sucks at your skin; it feels like someone shot liquid energy into your veins. His teeth graze your skin, just barely, before he pulls away.
You squirm underneath him when he grinds down on your clothed bulge, straightening up to pull his own shirt off. His stomach is pure corded muscle and it shows. You lean up to kiss his side, rougher than he had been.
“Fuck, Sollux,” he groans and you bite him, enjoying the way his skin feels against your tongue. Then you blow air against his skin and chuckle. He tries to wriggle away, suddenly laughing as well, but you hold him close. He manages to get a hand on your shoulder and pushes you back, following you down. He holds your head in place and kisses you hard, making you gasp and moan. It’s embarrassing but you’ll care later; right now all you want is him against you in every way possible.
His hands hook into you jeans and pull them down an inch; you hiss between your teeth. Karkat pulls back from you, sitting up.
“Can I,” he gives your jeans another tug.
“Fuck,” you say, “Yes fucking please, KK, I might die if you don’t.” He unbuttons your jeans quickly, pulling them down along with your bee-boxers in one movement. Your bulge is completely unsheathed and your nook aches with need. Karkat licks his lips unconsciously and you jerk forward, into the hands he has placed on your hips.
Watching you steadily, he backs up and sinks between your legs, pulling your jeans and boxers all the way off and discarding them.
“Can I, uh,” he licks his lips again and you really fucking hate the things that does to you. “Fuck, Sollux, can I eat you out? Is that a think I can do?”
“Yes,” you breathe, “fuck yes, you can, shit KK,” you break off as he dips between your legs and runs his tongue over your inner thigh. You make a sound in the back of your throat that you have never made before and Karkat grins, licking you again, this time closer to your nook. You’re so wet for him already it should be embarrassing but instead it’s just hot. When he flicks his tongue against your nook you inhale sharply, biting down on your hand to keep from shouting.
Karkat stops, glaring at you. “Hand down,” he says, his warm breath misting over your bulge, which twitches. “I want to hear you, okay?” You nod and force yourself to relinquish your hand. He leans in again, kissing the area of skin between the base of your bulge and the top of your nook. You cry out again as he kisses down, his tongue sliding into you. Eyes still on your face, Karkat spreads his tongue over the folds of your nook and back in again, slowly fucking you. You push yourself against his mouth, panting slightly, rolling your hips as fast as he’ll let you.
Heat begins to pool in your abdomen as you rock your hips against his tongue, but he pulls away before you come. He’s grinning at you, using the pad of one finger to ghost along your bulge. You don’t know if you love him or hate him.
“You,” you pant, “Are wearing way too many clothes. Jeans, off, now.”
“Yes,” Karkat says, simply, hastily undoing his jeans and sliding them off. You make note of his Troll Will Smith patterned boxers to tease him about later. Then he’s naked and hovering over you, a little unsure. You guide him up along your body, kissing him a reassurance. He’s fucking gorgeous, and you kiss him hard enough to prove it. His bulge curls against yours, flexing slightly.
“Oh,” you groan against his mouth. Karkat kisses down your jaw and back to your neck, not biting hard enough to draw blood. His hands traces over your body, claws skimming lightly over your ribs. “Can I fuck you? Or can you fuck me, fuck, KK,” you arc into him once more, sweat slickening your skin.
“Yes,” he moans against your neck. “Fuck, Sollux, I need you to fuck me,” He untangles your bulges with one hand and sits up. You take him by the hip and guide him up, a half smile on your face as you look at him. He’s panting and sweaty and his nook drips and you need him, now, always, fuck.
He spreads his thighs and guides your bulge up, until it slides into him with ease. He bites his lip and groans, and he’s so hot. His nook is tight and you know it’s got to be stretching uncomfortably as he presses down onto you, taking more, but it feels too good for him to care. When he’s taken all of you, his nook clenching and stretching around you, he finally moves. You pull his mouth back to yours and slide your tongue against his, rolling your hips. He sets the rhythm, panting and sliding, his hips jerking at a constant pace. You gasp into each other’s mouths, and his hips jerk up.
“Faster,” he growls against you ear, “Please, Sollux.”
You put a hand around his back and roll over him, barely stuttering. He wraps his arms around your neck and finds your mouth once more as you grind against him. His legs wrap around your hips and he hisses curses against your lips. You have one hand on his left hip to steady him, the other traces down his side and over his leg. You let his bulge grind against it and his thrusts increase. Heat builds in you again, and your pace quickens.
You’re saying something that sounds like Karkat’s name and he buries his face in your shoulder. You feel his nook twitch around you and he comes with a shout. His nook clenches around your bulge and you groan, lifting his hips off the pile and plowing into him.
He rides out his orgasm on your bulge, groaning and swearing before he finally pushes you over the edge and you see white. You roll your hips a few more times before stuttering to a stop, panting. Karkat’s pupils are blown wide and he grins at you, fighting to catch his breath. Your pile’s a wreck but you don’t care. Sighing, you roll onto your side, bulge slowly retracting. Neither of you makes a move to clean up, just lying together until you remember how to function.
When you remember how to speak you say, “I think I’m in love with you.” You don’t mean to say it; it just slips out. Karkat blinks at you.
“I think,” he says. “That’s a good thing, because I’m maybe in love with you too, fuckbrain.”
“Oh,” you blink this time, and then grin. Karkat rolls his eyes as you pull him to you, laughing at the way his hair sticks up. “You have funny sex hair, KK, I don’t know if I can love a man with funny sex hair.”
He punches you in the shoulder and leans into you. “Too bad,” he growls. “If I have to love a guy who literally wears ridiculous glasses like you’re in some old time movie theater choking on grubcorn you have to love me with my completely awesome sex hair.”
“I don’t think it remembers how to lie flat anymore,” you try to press the offending lock back down. Karkat punches you again.
“Leave my hair alone,” he says, prodding your chest until it feels more pillow like. His horns poke you uncomfortably but you can deal. Idly, you wipe your hand on a towel and then focus on stoking his hair. He’s almost asleep before you speak again.
“I think I’m going to call it Joshua,” you tell him.
“I’ll kill you,” he replys.
Later, you wake and clean up. Karkat whips you with a towel and you carry him into your ablution block with your psionics. He kisses you upside-down and you have really great shower sex. For breakfast, you have something other than soup, something that doesn’t burn when you pause halfway through to remind yourself what his mouth feels likes against yours.