Chapter Text
Be the guy.
You are now Dave Strider.
And you are dating an alien.
Awesome.
But let's be honest: despite freaky alien romance and weird...quadranty things, you...haven't really...gotten anywhere.
Whatever. You understand. No matter what everyone else (and especially Karkat) thinks is going on between you and Terezi, you're still, like, barely used to your own facial hair. You're just starting to wish that John had popped a few cans of his dad's shaving cream into the bucket he launched into Karkat's face (and the memory of his epic fucking freak-out is delicious, even now), while still being proud enough of your bit of 'stache that you'd mourn its passing. You've copped a feel of weird troll ta-tas-which are a thing, though not as squishy as Rose's. You're pretty sure. Not that you've ever copped on your ecto-sister. Nope-but that's about it. So you'd expect to be treated like an adult if any other adults were around, but the fact is, you're still kinda a young adult, and you're okay, at the moment, with that.
Which is why, months from the end of your epic tour of fuck-all in the sky, when you're in a dark corridor and you hear that ominous "honk" and you spin around to see Gamzee just standing at the end of the corridor you just fucking came from and looking at you with that zen-master, stoner-messiah smile of his, you about shit yourself. Not because he's gonna kill you--because, duh, god tier--but because it's been over two years since you'd last seen him and his horns are bigger. By, like, at least six inches, and they've begun to spiral like he's gonna use his head to open a fine bottle of merlot.
You look at him.
And he looks at you.
And...you look at him, not wanting to move, not sure how fast he is, but it must be pretty fucking fast, what with how he absconds with dead bodies while no one is looking.
And he looks at you.
And raises a hand, which is holding one of the many, many horns from the weird thing you've heard he calls a bed...and honks.
And it's good that no one else is about because, yeah, you run like hell. Because, again, while you're fine with dying, you'd prefer not to revive up in this weirdo's respiteblock.
And now you really need to talk to someone.
Given the subject, you'd rather not Terezi. She could be insulted. You don't know why, but girls are like that, right? Karkat is, duh, out of the question. He'll just scream at you until you get fed up and take the verbal to the physical, yet-a-fucking-gain. Rose is...yeah, she may be your sister, but no. So that leaves...
"Surely you were not under the impression that the universe ending trumped our basic biology?" Kanaya says, with that little, serene voice of hers and those far-too-prominent teeth all the more exposed as she smiles. "Even you must have noticed the changes in your...er...physiology?"
"What?" You ask, surreptitiously tensing up all of your muscles and straightening from your normal slouch.
She remains quiet, just watching you.
You, just as surreptitiously, relax and cross your arms. "Yeah, maybe. A bit. I just...didn't notice anyone else."
She keeps looking at you. Then her head tilts down and she glances at her chest, then back up at you.
Well, hell, if she's gonna look, might as well and damn.
"Okay, yeah. So you gu...girls are...older." You shrug. "And me. And I guess John and Jade, probably. Heh...guess they're finally finding a use for all of his dad's shaving cream." You laugh and rub at your chin. "Jade especially, I hope."
Kanaya rolls her eyes. She never puts up with you very well. "I'm sure they have grown in equal proportion. We all have." She gives you one of those looks.
If she could see through your shades, she'd see you looking back just as cool as always. Yep.
With a snort, she turns and walks off, muttering something about "going to go see your sister," because it's about all the ammo she's got, and she's not above firing one off.
You've gotta respect the girl. She's got all the irony, pulling off that Vigro shirt and then going off on her little "walks" with your sister. Cause you know what "walks" stands for. You had the Internet back home. You could get through your bro's parental controls like nobody's business.
But you're paying more attention, now. You notice--and do your utmost to keep Kanaya from noticing that you notice--that Rose has some hips to her, now. And a bit more up top, yeah, but hips.
Kanaya's horns are sharper. In fact, you're suddenly noticing that Kanaya is constantly fixing little holes in her shirts. And Rose's skirts and holy crap, that's...interesting.
Terezi, you realize is...lankier. Not in a bad way, of course. But while Kanaya's gone all VA va voom and Rose is all va va VOOM, your hands slide over Terezi's little curves like she's been polished, never finding a definite place to stop, but perfectly content to touch it all in turn.
The girl herself seems slippery and oiled up in your arms, twisting and moving against you, straddling your lap, her long tongue alternately deep in your mouth, almost down your throat, then curled all the way around the curve of your ear, then lapping at the dip in your throat, then she's slippery-sliding down the couch, between your legs, tongue dipping into your belly button and--
"WOAH," you shout, sitting up straight in your seat, hands on Terezi's shoulders, pushing her back a little, looking down at her through one eye still covered by your shades and the other exposed for all the world to see. Except the world, at this moment, is just your respiteblock and the only person who could even theoretically have seen your eyes is blind Terezi, so that's good, but she's still looking roughly up at you, tooth-filled mouth in a rather disconcerting frown.
"What?"
"Um...so...you're...what are you doing?"
Terezi shrugs and tries to lean into you, but your arms are too strong and they hold her back and she growls, bringing way too much attention to the garbage disposal system she calls teeth.
"Dave, stop," she grunts, reaching up to grab your wrists, twisting her lithe, slippery body until your hold is broken and she can press your arms down on the couch cushions. It's not a good angle, of course, and you could easily escape, but you give the girl a chance to talk.
Which she, of course, does not. No, she lets one of your hands go and reaches for your zipper.
And you...kind of...sort of...let her.
Cause you are Dave Gog-damned Strider and Bro didn't raise no fool.
Trolls have a bit of trouble gripping small things, what with the claws, so it takes Terezi some time to get it together enough to pull the zip down. It sends shivers up your spine with each click, and you wonder how loud they seem in her ears. Maybe not too much louder, since she always claims to "see" with her sense of smell and...
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Taste.
She's making little growly noises. Pissed-off growly noises. Directed at your jeans button, which is giving her more trouble than the zipper, and you've just now noticed how tight these jeans have become. Not because of the straining below your waist--though that could be a factor--but because you are, in general, getting bigger, and it is all abs and not fat. Right.
"Grr...this...damnit!" Terezi actually hisses, claws digging into denim. "Can you be caliginous for pants?"
You laugh a little, but stop damned quick when her claws miss the denim and leave two shallow scratches on either side of your belly button.
"Gyaaah," you say, so not like her coolkid, and grab Terezi's wrists. "Jegus, Terezi, let me do it!"
She glares up at you. Or glares up at your nose. It's always a little unnerving, how she tries to focus and gets so close, but somehow always misses. "Then do it before I rip them to shreds!"
And that would be totally hot if she hadn't just nearly disemboweled you. You do not want to be disencocked.
You also don't want to stop.
So it is with absolutely torn feelings that you pinch at either side of the button and twist your hands and it all pops loose and you groan in relief, not having realized how much your circulation was being limited. You should ask Kanaya to make you a new pair. Or maybe something with just drawstrings, you consider, as you focus back down on the grey-skinned female kneeling between your legs, waiting impatiently as you lift your hips and slide the jeans down off your hips and then your thighs until they are scrunched up around your ankles and you sit there in your bright red boxers. You're not...really sure what to do from here. Wondering if you should have taken the boxers off, too, or if that would be presumptuous.
And if Terezi doesn't know what's next, she is damned good at hiding the fact, because she shifts up your body to get back to licking your stomach, paying extra, extra attention to the wounds she made, and not in a nice mommy-cat-comforting-kitten kind of way. And not exactly like a rainbow drinker. But like she just adores the taste of your blood.
You're just getting a little weirded out when her long tongue delves into your belly-button like she's trying to punch through to your stomach.
"Yeeee. Tererzi, that's...that..." You squirm. It doesn't tickle. Doesn't hurt. But you're not exactly hard, anymore, and this isn't helping at all.
She pulls back and sniffs at your navel. "So this is the...um...'belly thingie,' right?" She tilts her head to the side and looks up at you for clarification.
"Um...belly button. Don't you have one?" You ask, just before recalling that, no, she probably doesn't, since trolls apparently pupate. You wonder if there's some sort of, like...pupal scar she can show you. And where it might be hidden.
"Nope. So this," she says, poking her claw, gently, at your navel, "is the belly button! And thiiiiiis..."
She drags her claw down the rim of your navel. Down and down until she meets wiry hair that is just a shade darker than the hair on your head. She strokes it the wrong way, and you do not care.
"Is your 'happy trail'?"
You laugh and finally get your smirk back, letting it fall on her. "Oh yeah. And it is very happy right now."
Terezi laughs. "Rose said you'd say that."
You cough, again, very un-coolkid. "Rose said what?"
"That you'd make a lame joke," Terezi replies, grinning. "And that you'd freak out that I mentioned her."
Hell yeah, you're freaking out. Your girlfriend was talking about your happy trail with your ecto-sister. You're going to freak a bit. Not that you're going to show it. You're opening your mouth to tell the troll that you aren't freaking when Terezi's hand falls another six inches and she presses the heel of her palm into your groin.
"And she said you'd stop freaking out if I did this," she purrs.
And what the fuck is she saying? Cause whatever. What. Ev. Errrrrrrr.
"Awwwwww...this is easy." She laughs, rubbing with her hand, resting her head on your thigh, looking up at you, breathing with her mouth open, as if she's trying to smell and taste what she's doing at the same time. "You're sooooooo easy, Dave."
Easy? Whatever. You'll be her little slut or whatever if she just keeps touching you. And if you can touch her. Because you can't figure out what to do with yourself, so you reach up to run a hand through her hair, just...just subtly pushing her head closer towards your crotch.
"You know how easy you are, Dave?" She's grinning. Wide and toothy. "Do you? Huh?"
"Huh?" You repeat, not up for trivia.
"You're so easy," Terezi says, half in a laugh, "you went right back around to haaaaaard." She stops pressing your crotch and instead gets a good grip of your cock through cotton and squeezes.
"Ohshit," you breath, hand fisting in her hair, no longer trying to be subtle about your maneuvering. If she's gonna be down there and making jokes and touching you, you're just going to go ahead and assume you know what's going to happen and assume she's strong enough to stop you if you're wrong. Which she is. Strong enough. And which you aren't. Wrong, that is. Because she lets your cock go for just one terrifying moment and grabs the hems of your boxers and tears them to fucking shreds and yeah, you're okay with that.
You've gotta be okay with that. Because you are Dave Strider. You are her coolkid. Coolman. Whatever. Cool.
Then Terezi opens her mouth and just breaths on your cock.
Hoooooooot.
She gives you sort of a respite as she leans in and begins sniffing. Getting a good idea of what, exactly, she is dealing with. And if her wide grin is any indication, she is okay with what she's found. That's nice for her. Really.
Then she gets her nose in close and it just barely touches your foreskin. You hiss in a breath and your cock twitches up towards your body.
Terezi follows it.
And then the surge of blood ebbs and your cock falls back down, papping her right in the forehead.
"Hey!" She sits up, glaring down at the offending member.
You do not want Terezi to glare at your cock. You want them to be friends.
Friends may not be in order, because Terezi reaches out and grabs the head of your cock, holding it down against your pelvis.
They're totally not friends, but that is totally okay!
You're making noises. You know that. Maybe you should feel ashamed, but whatever. She's leaning in and is back to sniffing, and her nose and cheek keeps touching your foreskin and she's scowling.
"Why is it so dry?" she grumbles. "Are you...um...okay with this?" She suddenly looks up at you, brows high at her revelation.
You laugh, try to smirk, try to show her you're at ease when you are just tense and waiting and now a little bit worried. "Oh yeah, 'Rezi. I'm okay with this."
She pouts. Actually pouts. You reach up with your other hand, cradling her cheek as you chuckle at the young woman.
"Then why are you all dry? Are...are humans always dry? Gog, isn't that uncomfortable?"
"Well, normally it's the girl who gets...er...wet," you explain, beginning to put that subtle pressure back on her head. "Guys don't really. I mean, not until the end."
"When you cum," Terezi says, with the air of a school girl reciting her lessons, which winds up making your cock surge in her grip once more.
"Yeah. Though there's other ways to get us wet, you know." You press just a little harder. Cause you're not gonna force her, but things have gotten way too side-tracked.
Apparently not cool, because Terezi's arms whip out and she grabs your wrists again, pressing them to the couch. She glares up at you through her own dark, dark shades.
You'd be intimidated if your dick wasn't wagging in her face. Kinda hard to be feeling anything but desperate right now, because she's no longer touching your cock and this has been going on too long. Not just this inspection, but this entire build-up in the relationship. If anyone was still alive on your shitstain of a planet, they might be all "wah wah, you're too young, wah wah," but you know. You went to public school back then and these shenanigans were already going on with your classmates before they were carbonized and you've traveled through time so much it's hard to tell how old you are and god-tier, damnit. God. Fucking. Tier. You and Terezi have spent too long fondling and dry-humping and stopping and leaving you to jerk off in the shower and--
And she licks your cock.
Big, long lick. From your damned balls right to your tip, using first the flat of her tongue and then the very tip, getting your every flavor, every texture.
You're gasping. Not even enough air in your lungs to groan. You hope Terezi hasn't secretly judged you to be evil, because you're gonna die and you'd like to resurrected in time to appreciate your first blowjob.
She gives you just a little break, raising her head and beaming. "Oh! You are wet! Here, at the tip!" And she licks you again, right at the slit of your cockhead, trying to slip the pointy end of her tongue inside you. "Hmmm...not much, though." She frowns just a moment. Then is back to that impish demeanor, pressing her lips to place place where foreskin meets shaft, speaking against the member. "You say there's more?"
You laugh and nod. "Oh yeah, baby. Got a loooot waiting for you. Wanna see?"
She nods her head, childishly eager.
You relax back in your chair. "Alright. Then go ahead."
She blinks. Which you can only really tell by how the skin around her eyes shifts.
Then she grins and lowers her head.
Terezi...has a long tongue. You don't know if she always did or if that came after she was blinded and began seeing by taste, but it's long. Like, she could be the front man in a KISS tribute band. And then go face-to-face with Gene Simmons in an epic showdown for control of the big band itself, ending in Simmons's complete and total destruction and erasure from all memories, past, present, and future.
But you digress. Her tongue. Is long. And pretty much prehensile. And she wraps it around your cock. Not licking you. Fucking you with just her tongue. Sliding it up and down your shaft, leaving behind a thick green fluid. You've seen her saliva before, on the corners of your mouth after kissing, on your collarbone and, on the scariest and most awesome of occasions, coating your fingers after she's sucked them, but it's totally different seeing it on your cock. Seeing it coating your cock is...kinda awesome. Though it's taking second place to how her tongue feels slithering along your length. Third, actually, behind how her hot breath hits your scrotum. No, wait, make that fourth, after how one of her hands has left your wrists and is now stroking your balls, stroking lower, lower, cupping your nuts--which are getting pretty tense, years of pent-up sexual instincts ready to let loose--and then moving even further. Oh fuck, further, so one of her fingers is sliding along the thick skin between your balls and your ass, stroking it. Stroking deep down between your asscheeks and her tongue comes up further off of you, becoming a tight spiral right on the head of your cock, her damned tongue squeezing you and that finger...
Oh fuck. Fuck. That finger, beyond your fucking wondrous taint, the tippy-tip-tip of her dangerous claw prodding at your anus. Oh fuck.
"Oh, fuck, Terezi!" You howl and buck your hips as the strongest orgasm of your life takes over. You put your free hand on the back of her head, trying to push her down to actually swallow your cock. If you were in a sane state you'd know it was such a bad idea to want to fuck Terezi's mouth, but you do, you really do want to, but all you do is push into her tongue, which lengthens it's coils, stroking up and down your cock. The green of her saliva is being mixed with the white of your cum and god DAMN that is an amazing color, you want to to paint your respiteblock that color, you want to carry a swatch of that wherever you go, you wonder if you can switch your outfit to that exact shade.
Terezi might agree (though, yeah, you're a terrible guy and you couldn't care if she didn't) as she's laughing and moaning her appreciation, her tongue loosening as you become more and more sensitive until she's just pressing it to you, lapping up your juices, bringing her entire tongue into her mouth and pursing her lips. Puffing first one cheek out and then the other as she swishes it in her mouth, analyzing the taste like a gog-damned sommelier.
She swallows--you keen--and breaks into a huge grin. "Deeeeee-licious!" she declares.
You guffaw and card your hand through her hair, bringing it out of her eyes and laughing even more as you realize a little bit of your cum has lept up and splattered on her shades. Absolutely nothing on her skin or hair, but somehow that little bit on the sunglasses and oh yeah. You like that. You kinda wonder if you can convince her to pass up her new human treat sometime so you can spunk all over her face. And then watch her lick it off. Which is kinda weird, but kinda hot cause, yeah, you're an adult, but you're still a teenager.
"Rose is such a fucking liar," Terezi giggles, getting off her knees, going to just crouching between her matesprit's legs, ready to bounce up like a jack-in-the-box. "Gog, she had me worried!"
"Worried?" You repeat, not caring one fucking bit.
"It's all just lies lies lies!" Terezi sings. "Saying you don't have a nook! I'm gonna go kick her. In the face!" She stands, leaning down quickly to kiss you on the forehead before spinning about and literally marching out of the room.
You watch her go, thinking sort of vaguely that a coolkid, good-guy thing to do would be to insist that you return the favor. Or at least tell her she's got spunk on her glasses. But, hell, she's the one leaving and she's leaving in a good mood. You know it's a good mood because she's talking about bringing justice to the wicked.
It's only an hour later that your brow twitches and you frown and say, out loud, to the room at large and no one in particular, "Nook?" Maybe you need to talk to Rose, as well, because that makes no sense. But...probably after you get cleaned up. Rose doesn't have heightened senses, but you'd bet all the other trolls could smell what you've just done. Yeah, this thing between you and Terezi has been going on for a long time, but the last thing you want is to do is be found out.
Be the other guy.
You are now Gamzee Makara.
And the bitch is talking again.
You don't know why she's always talking. Coming in, bluh bluh bluh, you killed my friends, bluh bluh bluh, where are the bodies, bluh bluh bluh, bring you to justice! At first, you would tell her to be cool. Be a cool motherfucker. You know about justice. But she just kept coming at you. Going for your throat. Digging her little claws into your stomach, trying to rip out your insides.
Didn't bother you, in the beginning. In the beginning, you could tune her out. Disappear into the air system and sneak and spy. She'd find you, though, and you kinda respected her for that, but you still had a lot of time to yourself. Time to watch your motherfucking soul brother getting his play on. Makin' his move on the crazy bit of flesh. Worshipping the ground she taps her cane on.
And then you saw her and the little human dude one night. All up on each other, red as his fruity-ass cape. And then you saw the human taunting your soul brother until it was too much and they were all up on each other, black as the Furthest Ring.
And the little bitch watched. And she laughed. You had never seen such a disgraceful quad-blocking, setting her matesprit up to blackrom her other suitor so she couldn't at least be his kismesis. There was many an enraged honking when you got back to your little nest.
She heard that. Oh, she motherfucking heard that. And she came after you again. And you shoved her down on the floor and dug your claws into her arms. And then you were kissing. And that was that.
You're not into the flicks like your palebro. If you were, you might know how this one would end: you're fucking the bitch some day when Karkat walks in. The end.
Knowing wouldn't stop you from shoving your bulge up her nook until she cries out more in pain than pleasure. Wouldn't stop you at all. Cause red sex is mighty nice, you hear, but black sex is what we all dream about.
She found you in the shower, this time. Not exactly a good place. The water is fuckin' with your blood, making it hard for any of it to clot up, and there's a green and purple swirl going down the drain, though it is becoming steadily and steadily more about what's dripping from between both of your thighs. Not because the blood is clotting--because you just dig your claws deeper into her ass and she shreds those monster teeth in your neck and shoulder and cheek--but because you're getting so close. So damned good. Your bulge is in her, twisting back on itself to make her feel full and stretched, then shooting out until it's straight up in her, tickling somewhere in the region of her vascular sacs. Her own bulge is writhing between you, wrapping around your base, squeezing it hard and getting you fo fucking messed up. Normally you'd go for a pail, but genetic material is ruined by water and you're not getting out of the steam. Feels too good on your fresh cuts and your cramped muscles and the dirty bitch could use a bit of cleaning sometimes. Deep down. DEEP.
You shove your bulge up as hard in her as you can and she tenses and her nails punch right through skin and into your back muscles and she's gushing all over the shower stall floor and you decide to let go and join her and in that exact moment you feel it.
Oh man, you feel it. Feels so good. Filling the bitch up with your genetic material as that fucking rage comes at you. Rage from both sides. If you hadn't just finished, you'd be turning around right now to set up for some kinky double-black shit.
As is, you just look over your shoulder, do your very best to meet some eyes through those fuckin' shades, and smile.
In your arms, you feel the bitch tense up and you turn back to her. Look back into her useless, sightless red eyes.
And you fucking love the way she says his name. "Dave.".