fics for Johnkat Day...
a majority not actually johnkat go figure. :X
quite a few are porn though.
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Anonymous asked: okay idk if you remember this but a long time ago you posted a chatlog between you and ... adi? i think? anyway and it was about dave and bro as demon hunters and the maryams as vampires and karkat was a demon who was in hiding and had been taken in by the maryams as their 'cousin'? if you remember it, could you write some demonhunter!dave exploring demon!karkat's sexy xeno body?
((sure thing! chatlog’s here just in case. this turned out less porny than i planned for though. welp.))
--
They're sitting on the edge of Karkat's bed with the comforter (decorated with little cartoon bats) fluffing up around them. The room has movie posters on the walls and they have to stay quiet in case of family downstairs and Karkat has his shirt off.
It's probably the most cliche teenagery thing Dave has ever done, in a way.
In another way Karkat is probably supposed to sit facing him and they're probably supposed to be macking.
Dave can't squint at his hand like he'll pierce through the illusion spell stopping him from seeing what his hands feel if he's kissing the dude, though. Also the invisible TUNNEL OF TOOTHY DOOM unnerves him a little when he pauses to think about it.
Unnerves him a lot.
The skin looks smooth, warm brown; there are a couple of beauty spots, a pimple. When he runs his thumb across it he doesn't feel it.
He feels the edges of a long, rough tear instead, long healed but still thick, grooves and hollows and strange bumps which he tries to visualize, which he never fully manages.
The worst is over his shoulder blades, two roundish craters where the roots of his wings used to be. He doesn't say anything, though he's hard like stone under Dave's hand and it's not a demon thing, just a I fucking hate this but I will die before I tell you to stop thing.
Dave makes sure to keep in contact with the thinning scars as he slides his hand down or he'd lose track of them under the spell. At least until the small of Karkat's back; then he has other things to follow.
His knuckles follow Karkat's spine and his eyes follow -- well -- he doesn't see a lot of his ass with the pants and the comforter in the way, but when his fingers glide down the curve and move the cloth away it stays away, as if Dave was the one who created a hollow depression in which Karkat's long smooth tail is coiled.
Weird. As. Fuck.
"What did I tell you about your hands and my ass, shitstain," Karkat says between gritted teeth.
Dave leans in and kisses the back of his neck, mostly to be an asshole. "I didn't touch your ass even once, your honor, this is a false accusation and I am very hurt."
He curls his fingers around the tail, lets it glide through from root to tip. He can't see it but he can see the way Karkat's back tries to arch, the way he shivers.
"This is attached to my ass, you stupid turdfucking douche, are you done molesting me?"
Dave lets the fan of soft feathers over the spade tip of Karkat's tail glide free and leans against his back, wraps his arms around him. He pretends he's joking.
Karkat pretends he's annoyed, but he leans into his hold anyways. Dave breathes warm and deliberate against his neck, and waits Karkat has gone through shivery anticipation and annoyed impatience before he kisses it.
"... Is your dick poking me in the ass."
Dave shuffles a little closer and tries not to groan as his semi nestles against the seat of Karkat's pants. "Looks like. Hey, we never said anything about exploring with my Excalibur."
"You're right, we never did," Karkat replies, ferociously amiable. "Want to check out my claws next?"
"Goddamnit Vantas, we're never going to get to third base if you keep threatening my pokey bits with your shreddy bits. Are you a teenager or what?"
"I'm forty-five actually."
Dave blinks, thrown. "... What, really?"
Karkat twists in his loosened hold and pins him to the mattress without warning, settles on top of him with eyes gleaming. Heart hammering, Dave reminds himself that Karkat would never kill him on top of bedding Porrim would have to wash afterwards.
"Nope, I was just fucking with you."
Dave eventually finds it easier not to reach for his silver knives after a couple minutes of kissing where nothing happens but olympic tongue wrestling and a couple passes of dick fencing.
And then Kanaya comes to knock and call Karkat down for dinner, and Dave topples them both to the floor with a loud clonk in his race to be out of the window before she decides to come in and check on her pseudo-cousin.
He spends the next ten minutes sitting on the Maryams' roof and willing his teenage boner down to acceptable-in-public levels, since he's not carrying a sword to camouflage it with today.
--
Anonymous asked: 30th!davekat, Karkat finally lets Dave do him in the butt
--
"I better get a pony for this," Karkat hisses between his teeth, back twisted so he can brace a hand on Dave's knee. His thighs are trembling under the strain.
He's crouching over Dave, precariously balanced on the balls of his feet, and it's the first thing he's said since two minutes ago, when the head of Dave's dick first popped in.
"I'm -- trying so hard -- not to make a riding joke, babe -- you don't even know."
Karkat plants a hand on the middle of his chest and leans down -- the angle changes, and Dave has like one and a half inch of valiant sausage up there, barely, but he groans anyway. (Karkat doesn't make any noise, careful not to even breathe lest he betray himself.)
Then he headbutts Dave. Mostly gently, though.
"Why d'you think I fucking said it, shitstick." His forehead is still pressed against Dave's, dark hair tumbling into his face. He still looks tense, concentrating -- not very into it, but Dave knows if he offers him an out he will be snarled at. "A double entendre this large passing me by, call the, shit, call the hospital."
It's a bit easier when he's bracing against Dave's chest, even though with his forearm down across Dave's body his elbow digs in Dave's stomach pretty nicely. Dave will live, and he's got another inch in, so he shuts up.
"Can I make hung like a horse jokes."
"Only if you're talking shetland pony."
"Yeah, I think one of ‘em would fit on the patio. Which, ah, which color coat d'you want?"
Karkat snorts, rocks tentatively against him. Dave's toes clench on the sheets. Not moving is the hardest thing he's ever done.
"The cats would hunt it down and kill it," Karkat says, almost regretful, and starts moving, rocking long and slow.
It takes a little while before Karkat's doubtful frown relaxes, before he sits back up on Dave's hips and rolls his hips less stiffly, more like he might be starting to enjoy it.
Dave doesn't think it's ever going to be his favorite thing, but sugar daddy jokes aside Karkat was the one who offered and so Dave doesn't mind if he ever offers again. Just once, just this one time, buried to the hilt in him, hands on his hips and ruining his back sitting sort-of-up to kiss him, it's perfect.
That's when Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds executes a perfect Death From Above through the open skylight, of fucking course.
--
Anonymous asked: Davekarezi. Terezi the super rich and powerful lawyer, and her two blushing stay-at-home husbands.
--
Terezi parks the scuttlebuggy in the yard and despite wanting nothing more than to crawl home, she goes and locks the fence. After the time the buggy escaped and ate Mrs. Pendleton's prize roses, she makes sure. It'll have to make do with their grass and a few daisies.
At least their yard is never overgrown. That's yet another technicality the neighborhood association can't make a case out of. And she was being very generous in agreeing to keep the paint colors to approved (boring) shades. The house fits in just fine!
Some days she maybe secretly wishes a tiny bit she didn't have to climb a rope to get home, but today she landed a miscreant in human jail to reflect on his crimes and she feels grimly victorious, enough to combat the fatigue.
"Hallo the den of iniquity! I'm home!" she yells when she makes it to the landing, after she has spat her briefcase's handle out of her mouth. (The serrated corner almost gets her in the foot.)
Her sharp hearing catches a startled hiss and hurried whispers, and a not very discreet "release him!" As she divests herself of her boots and tailored vest, she spars Crabdad back into his room, whose room mysteriously unlocked on her. She whaps him on his crabby nose before he can take a playful bite out of her arm and shoves her vest in the closet, and kicks him back in his room. Locked! Victorious.
"Booooys?"
Her mom sleeps curled up in a perfect little circle of chubby baby dragon, on a pillow that is damn well not at its place here and which she suspects was moved with malice aforethought. She still pauses to pet Mom's little nose and settle her wings properly on her back anyways. Her mom is the cutest mom, and she will duel anyone who says otherwise, Nepeta included.
... But she has been delayed long enough, as she can tell when she hears through the door cloth being thrown on the floor and a mattress bouncing with sudden, slightly over the top enthusiasm.
"Aha!"
When she bursts into the respiteblock Dave and Karkat are naked as the day they hatched (or burst out of some lady's vagina, she supposes), entangled on the concupiscent platform, gray and peach expanses of skin, messy liquorice and egg yolk, matching -- bare -- cherry eyes.
"Honey!"
"Terezi--"
"You're home!"
"We, uh, we missed you."
Dave is on his back, watching her upside down, and he deadpans, "We missed you naked."
Karkat groans and tries to hide his face in the sheets, but he can't without pressing his face to Dave's shoulder; they both blush a little more. Terezi's lips stretch into a long, long smile.
"Yeah," Karkat says without conviction. "There was a lot of. Naked."
Their laptops are still open; without even breathing deep she knows the black on white files will be Dave's movie script and Karkat's romance novel, cursors still blinking at the end of incomplete sentences, and the other windows will be Empire Of Warcraft Strikes Back Online.
She bets their star-paladins are at least seven levels higher than they were this morning, but that is neither here nor there.
She walks in, swoons theatrically onto the mattress beside them, upside down. They scramble to separate and sit up.
"We missed you very sexily," Dave says, as his hand inches toward her foot. Karkat leans over her face, peering at her with faint worry.
"Yeah, right. There was a lot of sex."
"But it never did take the edge off, alas and woe. He just ain't you, babe, all I can say." Dave makes barkbeast eyes at her up the length of her legs.
"Hey, you shut your mouth about my skills, taintbuffer."
Sometimes all that gets her to fight her way through the day is the thought of her two hivehusbands waiting, desperate for her, naked and pails out. Who would sate their lust and keep them in internet connections and MMPORG memberships if she didn't?
She sits up to allow Karkat to make a backrest of himself, and puts her feet in Dave's lap.
A little massage to relax her clenched muscles, she thinks, and then she will ravish them properly.
(She reminds herself to crack the window open so Mrs. Jenseny doesn't start believing her unsubtle attempts at poaching a dragon's mates from her have any chance of success, and so Mr. Levinburgh will laugh and throw his vote in her favor next neighborhood association backbiting session.)
--
"You make the most hilarious faces," John says, right between tender and teasing.
Karkat elbows him in the solar plexus, since Davesprite is otherwise engaged. "You say one word," he hisses, "about his quackbeast faces, and I am barring you from any further quadrant shenanigans."
John gasps in (faked) shock and hugs him around the chest, which has the effect of expelling all of Karkat' remaining air. He makes a dying croak that may be confused for a moan.
It has nothing to do with the sinuous coil of Davesprite's tail slowly filling up his nook, either.
"You can't! Come on, I was just teasing, pretty please." John nuzzles Karkat's hair, kisses his horn. Karkat has told him a dozen times they don't really feel anything he does to them, but he persists. It is not cute at all, for the record. It doesn't make him feel almost reconciled to their ridiculously safe roundness either. "I will be devoured by curiosity and then you'll have my death on your conscience, Karkat, and you will feel horrible, mark my words. I can't die without knowing how much you can fit in there, I just can't!"
Davesprite snorts quietly, paps John shamelessly over the head, flattening his ridiculous hair. "Dude, don't fret, there is no way Mister Kinkmaster here will give up on his depraved 'rail sandwich--"
He squawks like a featherbeast when Karkat grabs his hips and pulls them down so the thick part of his tail hangs in heavy coils across and between Karkat's spread thighs. (Because um seriously his voyeuristic thrills at John and Feather Dave's shameless human moirallegiance have zero part in this venture. Except for all the parts in which they have a part. Er. Where was he. Oh right, riding Davesprite.) "You want to talk depraved," he growls, pretending his face isn't dark with embarrassment, "good, let's talk your stupid featherbeast slit and my bulge."
For a second before Davesprite mock-swoons into his chest he is staring at Karkat like he wants to swoon for real.
The effect is a little ruined when John throws his weight against Karkat's back and folds them both in two at the waist under his weight, but after that he starts to see if his human dick will find a place between the loops of Davesprite's tail Karkat is already riding, so Karkat magnanimously decide he'll punish him for laughing as he does it afterwards.
--
Anonymous asked: Davekat. Arranged marriage! The first time they are alone together is on their wedding night.
--
"No, but answer me this, do you want to invalidate this whole farce of a legal and religious joining of blah-di-fucking-blah? Because I have looked at your laws and if we don't consummate the union it's not valid!"
Karkat loomed over his brand-new husband, teeth bared -- which might have been more intimidating if he hadn't been fighting ineffectually with the fiddly wedding shirt's too-precious-to-destroy buttons for the last five minutes. (It wasn't that his hands were shaking and he needed to keep them busy, of course not.)
"I have it from an actual lawyer that this means we do, actually, 'have to fuck it out', because the law doesn't care about irrelevant asides and special cases like reproductive incompatibility!"
Karkat's 'husband' gave a slow blink from the bed, where he lay stretches out on his side, still fully dressed and his boots on. The coverlet was dusty now but who gave a fuck, Karkat sure as hell didn't, he was pretty sure he wanted to slap his feet off there for pretty much the same reason he wanted to slap him across the face.
"Dude. I don't know about you but for months I've been buried in wedding preparation shit out of a hundred bulls, like, mammoth sized bulls. I've slept like five--" he lifted his hand, fingers open like Karkat needed it illustrated, "hours this whole last week. We have a whole and entire night where by tradition no one's gonna bother us until it's time to shower us in croissants and bacon and then leave us alone the rest of the next morning. I don't care what you do, but I'm sleeping."
Karkat hissed under his breath, and yanked his undershirt open. Buttons plinked off under the concupiscent platform. He turned to face his husband, letting the shirt fall open, daring him to -- to say anything, say the wrong thing, make the wrong face, not make any face --
Dave's mouth flattened in a line Karkat couldn't interpret. "Congrats on the most sensual strip-tease I was ever on the receiving end of," he drawled.
Karkat was about to tackle him -- he knew it wasn't how it was supposed to go but kismeses were concupiscent enough for wedding vows to fit and better than nothing, were they? -- but then he sat up and sighed, shoulders sagging with unfeigned tiredness.
"You're as into me as a snipped cat is into a cactus, dude. Which granted is weird as fuck but leave the Strider magic some time to operate, yeah? People will only know that we took, like, two days or, or even a week to frick if we tell them."
Karkat rolled his eyes. He'd met Karkat's best woman, hadn't he? "Or they sniff it off us, and they happen to be law-obsessed!"
"... Well then we'll say we did it under the shower. Tadah, magic. No but point is I am so tired a whole brothel's worth of pros couldn't suck my dick hard right now, I mean not saying that you're not cute -- I mean, you've got a nice ass and all and all I just -- this is meant to illustrate how freakily exhausted I am, okay, it's not a judgment on your hotness meter or like, my usual level of performance, I can perform fine, hell, great, I just."
His weird pale skin had gone wine-dark, his impassible face awkward with tension.
"Like. Not today."
The tangle of Karkat's rage and nerves unwound all at once.
"You're a virgin, aren't you."
Dave pretended to look straight at him, but Karkat's eyes were better than his in candlelight and it was easy to see them skidding away. "Wow, what's with those aspersions, no, seriously, fuck you."
"Tomorrow," Karkat promised around a crooked smile, and made himself sit on the mattress beside his husband to pull off his boots and kick off his pants.
--
Anonymous asked: Dave and Karkat trying out 69
(i was still trying to keep them short back then... haha ha ha. ha.)
--
"No but seriously why can't I be on top, it's dark as hell down here and how the fuck do you -- hngh -- do you keep missing, I mean the goal of the exercise is for both of us to get our own at once, and either it's in my hair and my shhh-- my snot launcher is alone in the cold and damp, or your -- snake charming is, is trying to bore a hole through my clavicles. I feel I should tell you, like, from a place of caring, bro, this is not sexy, and I can't ruin your, ff, your shit and I can't even see jack shit either--"
Karkat shuffled his knees, lowered himself with perhaps more vigor that he thought safe or nice -- but he was fucking fed up with Dave's useless micromanaging and his even more useless junk and right now he didn't want to be nice and he didn't care if his cartilaginous sniffnub got smushed against Karkat's taint.
And then Dave groaned right there against the softest part of him, and his weird human bulge jumped in Karkat's hand, and after due reflection (holy shit, holy shit) Karkat decided he would reciprocate later, once he got the hang of other things. If he tried to suck his dick and mash himself against his face at the same time there would be a teeth-related incident that might well get Karkat's (softwettease) tongue privileges revoked forever, he could see it coming like he was Seer of Bad Sex.
--
johnkateer asked: HM may I request a johnkat ficlet spin on Karkat's extended bathroom time in your most recent installment of BT for johnkat day?
(damn right you can. and then several people asked for more of it and then there were three thousand words.)
--
It would have been dead silent, if not for the soft plink, plink of water into the tub and Karkat's harsh breathing. John stood frozen, the bathroom door held half closed behind him.
He was vaguely aware, peripherally, that Karkat's red, furious eyes were on his face. His own eyes couldn't tear themselves away from that place between Karkat's legs where three of his fingers disappeared down to the last knuckle.
Karkat closed his knees, grabbed the edges of the tub to haul himself up. John found himself staring at the ceiling, face caught on fire. "I. I. Wash my hands. Other bathroom had no soap, haha. Needed to... It was open!"
"Was not open before you," Karkat snarled, and advanced on him, and John took a second -- not even that much!-- to glance back (oh wow, were the locks flimsy in this hotel, haha whoops) and when he turned to look at Karkat again the alien -- his enemychum prisonerpalbuddy -- was in his face, grey like suede and striped with white scars and dripping water everywhere.
He slammed both hands on the door around John's head, slammed it closed and how had John's back gotten pressed to it again? He couldn't -- oh shit, that was. Close. Very close. 'Shirt getting damp from Karkat's dripping hair' close. 'Hot angry breath against his face' close.
"Maybe I make you help me," Karkat growled, so low it sounded like a tiger's purr.
John's spent dick made a valiant effort at rising back to duty.
He was pretty sure Karkat didn't mean it much -- that he was more irritated than sincere, he knew that.
"Okay," he said, all quiet between the water drops, so his voice didn't even echo off the tiles.
Karkat twitched -- so close John couldn't have missed it with his eyes closed, but his eyes were open, as it so happened, lowered in (panic?) (guilt?) (shame?) something he couldn't deal with, and he could see all the way down a gray suede chest. He couldn't have missed that chalky scar on ash skin jumping where it crossed abdominal muscles, the tiny, unmistakable way Karkat's whole body flexed then, tense in an entirely different way.
A breathless pause.
"Zhann? You--"
The tip of Karkat's tongue (red) peeked out to wet his lower lip (black.) John tried not to bite his own, failed.
He didn't need the telepathic headband right now, he knew how Karkat thought, what he thought now, what he was weighing his words to ask, almost -- maybe -- start talking himself out of asking.
He curled into Karkat's body, down until he could hide his face against his shoulder, and said, "Yes," very quietly.
Karkat surged up against him, pinned him to the door with his body (bare, dripping, soaking through his clothes and John was the one who felt exposed.) Hands cupped his face, raked through the hair at his temples, fisted two handfuls of hair at the back of his skull, a mouth pressed hot and insistent against his and he was kissing back on blind instinct. It was nothing, nothing like the giggly explorations with Roxy, Rose's teasing, shallow kisses. (Nothing like the time with the nanites. Even despite the tension.)
His hands were running, grabbing their blind way up and down Karkat's back to pull him closer, as if there was any closer to be attained. They rocked together from the hips up as they kissed, strong and rough in a way he had never expected to enjoy.
He whined when Karkat paused, leaned his head back to stare at him, unreadable, whined louder when he started to pull on John's hair (experimentally, slow) to force John's head back, bare his throat. Oh fuck, oh fuck, teeth, oh.
"Help me," Karkat said slowly against his throat, words oddly cautious, measured. "I help you later. Yes?"
John tried to unclench his fingers, tried not to dig them in so hard -- he was going to bruise him, hurt him, lose control of his own strength and -- but Karkat rolled his back into John's hands like he didn't mind, rolled back into him, pressed up against his dick, and yeah, okay, he was hard again now.
He should have thought before he answered but he'd always made his most crucial decisions on the fly and besides his mouth had run off without him already. "Yes, yes, anything you want -- oh fuck, Karkat--"
He let his alien boy guide him down his strong gray body, all the way down to his knees.
He didn't even need any hair pulling to lean in and grip Karkat's ass in his hands and pull his strange alien crotch against his breathless mouth.
Any other time he would have been cautious, he would have approached slowly -- he'd heard enough from Jade and Roxy about foreplay and people attacking ladybits with their mouths but (these were not lady bits) these were alien bits and, and Karkat bits and who even knew how they --
Who cared.
Hands clenched on Karkat's ass, John licked his way into that slit, lapped at translucent candy-red, mouth mashed against Karkat's skin, against his mound, chin digging in and nose pressed so tight it was hard to breathe and he had to pull away to gasp before diving in again.
Karkat's hands were still in his hair, clenching and releasing, patting blindly at his skull -- and desperate as John was to tonguefuck him to release it took him a ridiculously long time to notice, and an even longer one to realize Karkat was looking for his horns.
(Not finding them, either, and it was ridiculous that in the middle of frantically trying to make someone come with his mouth John could even feel his throat tighten with painful sympathy.)
No folds in the slit, no second set of lips, but in the hole there were bits and things that twitched against his tongue and it was disturbing as fuck and made Karkat keen, so loud he thought his glasses would ping and Noir would be asking what the hell. John made hurried shushing noises against his inner thigh as he tried to breathe, slipped an arm all the way around the back of Karkat's thighs. He couldn't get deep enough with just his tongue and from the way Karkat's hips twitched and the noises he made, John was teasing him more than anything and no, he didn't want that.
"Don't shh, shh to me," Karkat ground out. When John glanced up he was bent over him, forehead pressed against the door and face scrunched as if in pain, eyes closed tight.
His alien dick barred his face in two from this angle, though.
Whoa.
"Zhann? Zhann, n'leysha, ak'ths, ssh--"
Karkat devolved into clicking, grating noises and John couldn't tell which were words and which were moans. Begging either way, though. (Please don't stop, please.)
He licked his sore, wet lips and traced the edge of the slit with his fingers, and slowly pushed them in.
Karkat's inner muscles, inner -- things clamped down immediately, started trying to suck them in deeper, holy shit, John couldn't help imagining that on his dick and oh, oh hell, he needed a free hand for his pants party but at the same time if he stopped holding onto Karkat's hips, no, no.
He leaned in to lick at the edges again, around and between his own fingers, heart beating hard in his throat, in his temples, licked up and up to the base of, of--
Karkat was staring down at him, irises blown so wide there was only a tiny dot of black left, a narrow circle of gold.
His hips were narrow and his ass square, and his shoulders were really not any shoulders John had ever seen on a girl, anyways, and that didn't stop him wanting to -- wanting to...
Fingers knuckle-deep in tight, clenching warmth, John pressed a trembling kiss to the base of Karkat's alien dick.
He had a brief, burning moment of wishing Dirk was here, or at least wishing that he had laughed over him and made ewww faces a bit less and tried to memorize more of his comebacks and asides related to going down on a guy.
Yeah, no, never mind, nothing could prepare him to that. Karkat's hand was clenched in his hair -- holding, not pulling -- and he could feel it shaking, could feel the way Karkat's thumb trembled when he rubbed a nice, soothing circle where the root of John's horn should have been.
He mouthed his way up Karkat's shaft. (It was a bit weird, thin damp skin, kind of like underneath John's foreskin only maybe even worse.) Karkat was still staring at him, and John hadn't caught him blinking even once. He tried on a little smile.
"Uh. That okay?"
"... You stop, I die." A flicker of a smile, eyes gone warm in a different way. "Help me, Zhann Eb'rt, you're my only hope."
John burst out laughing against his dick. "Oh my god, who taught you that! Was it Dave?! I bet it was Dave!"
Karkat chuckled quietly, eyes closing, and shifted his weight, spreading his feet a little. "Mnh no. Rokchi. Shh." He shifted on John's fingers and John remembered where they were, remembered to move them, to curl them and see what happened. From the spasm of activity inside and the way Karkat groaned, it was good.
Still grinning, giggling, he kissed his way to the tip and took the first couple of inches in his mouth.
It was -- awkward. Doable, though -- he moved his head a bit faster and tried to stop hearing Dave in his mind. Who cared about self-consciousness when they could be listening to the weird, awesome sounds Karkat made, all quiet and muffled, snaky hisses and almost birdlike trills that John had never heard before melting back into more familiar crickety clicks?
Giddy, he sucked a little harder, a little deeper. He could do this, who the hell cared--
"Aow! Stop, stop, mouth, hard, ow."
Oops, teeth. Contrite, he tried to figure out how to protect Karkat from them, managed something with his lips that was probably going to end up cutting his own mouth in the end but who cared, nanites for the win. When he sped up again Karkat had no protests, trilled for him sweet and soft and so pretty, and his thighs clenched in John's hold like he wanted to rock himself against his face, only the angle was wrong for (oh lord) face-fucking.
(Karkat fucking his mouth, holding him by the hair and pulling, he was developing a kink for it right here, right now, felt a tug and it went right to his dick and oh, Karkat thrusting in and out of his mouth, oh god, oh fuck.)
He went a little higher up (his knees hurt) and tried to swallow more, faster.
Karkat's dick moved in his mouth. The next second Karkat was pulling him off, holding him by the temples, and John coughed and blinked bewildered at it and up at Karkat's face and oh wow, it was moving. The, what, upper third? half? was curling against Karkat's belly, leaving dark pink trails on his gray skin.
(Looking for an alien pussy, like Karkat had, oh god, oh. Looking for John's mouth.)
Karkat's hands fell off his hair, onto his shoulders, and he pulled him up and moving. John stumbled after, legs all pins and needles and shaky, fell right back down on his ass, half in the shower stall, and then Karkat had lost patience and was on his lap, mouth pressed hot and hungry to his and crotch tight and hot and damp against the tent in John's jeans.
John's spine dug right into the edge of the shower stall and he didn't care at all. His arms were around Karkat, so tight he thought he might be leaving bruises, but Karkat only pushed himself closer and fucked his mouth with his tongue, hands framing his face, a thumb rubbing his cheek, his jaw.
John reached up and cupped the back of his neck, carded his fingers through hair wiry as Bec's coat, found a satiny, blood-warm horn and ran his fingers up the inner curve of it, looped his fingers around it. Karkat shuddered, ground himself harder against John's crotch, hard enough that John almost toppled backward into the shower stall. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving John blinking, shifted his hips back on John's lap, and then plunged a (clawed) (wall-piercing) hand down the front of John's jeans.
John groaned and tilted his hips into it, forehead pressed to Karkat's shoulder (he didn't remember doing that.)
Karkat's skin was rough and his hold a tad too loose and John didn't feel the claws even once. He tried to get his hand back to business, fumbled it, and then didn't know which part to go for -- but reaching between Karkat's legs right now would have broken his wrist, especially with how insistently Karkat rubbed himself against his thigh. Fingers curled around alien dick, he kissed the side of his neck blindly, nuzzled his way up to the soft place behind his ear, tried not to bite down on anything.
The sudden flood of wet heat on his lap had his eyes fly open once again. What the hell? His first thought were hot water or (ew) pee but when he looked down there was translucent red everywhere running over his jeans, seeping between his legs onto the bath mat and Karkat was still shaking himself apart. Aw hell.
John planted his heels, freed a hand to brace, managed to lift the both of them off the floor and into the shower somehow (he had the edge of the shower basin engraved in his flesh at this point.) Shaky, eyes wide, he watched -- Karkat's face, scrunched with something that looked like pain, how hard he pressed down onto John's leg -- that denim, he didn't get how that didn't hurt -- the way his grip on John's dick actually loosened, like even now he was thinking about making sure he didn't hurt him.
When he went all loose on John's lap John kissed his horn and wrapped his own hand around Karkat's hand to finish himself off.
It didn't take very long.
"We are," Karkat said eventually with his cheek smushed against John's shoulder, "bad ew asshole no."
John giggled. "Gross. Gross is the word you want. Oh my god, I'm totally going to have to go home in uniform pants."
Or, uh, considering the splash on his t-shirt, probably in uniform.
Well, maybe not the jacket. Seriously, fuck the jacket.
Okay no, fuck Karkat, Karkat was totally better to... huh. "... I wonder if that means I'm not a virgin anymore?"
Eyes closed, Karkat felt blindly around his face and pressed a hand across his mouth.
John licked his palm as wetly as he could.
--
"I think I should just throw them out," John said after a few seconds of contemplating the gross jeans currently glued to his skin and soaked through with red.
Karkat had heaved himself off John's lap a minute ago to slump against the glass wall of the shower stall, and couldn't stop stealing glances at John's lap. John would have felt sexily defiled if Karkat didn't look mortified.
"Uhn, what?"
"Pants. No good. Gonna have to burn them. Froosh."
Karkat groaned and buried his face in his hands. "That too," he said, tilting his head, horn first, at the bath mat. There was a sizeable patch of red on its creamy plushness. Welp.
"Hehe."
Karkat kicked his ankle, a little bit, face still covered. John dragged his legs inside the shower and climbed to his feet, still chuckling.
"C'mon, get up." He unbuttoned his jeans. Eww, human jizz. "Karkat, get up. Kaaarkat."
"No. I die now. Fuck you."
"You kinda just did."
"--Oh. Huhn. Yeah."
He peeked over his hand and through his hair at John, who grinned down and offered a hand to haul him up. He couldn't help but laugh, blushing, when Karkat's eyes briefly fell onto his open pants on his way up. Umm, yeah.
He kicked off his pants. His underwear was okay; he unhooked the showerhead to rinse off his hands, soak the jeans puddled on the floor. "Here, wash off. I'll try to soak the mat, see what happens."
Showerhead handed off to Karkat, he bounced off the stall, rolled up the mat, chucked it into the bath -- laughed some more at the traces of red already streaking the inside. "Oh my god, you copycat." Karkat growl-purred at him, eyes at half-mast in a way that made the growl sound more like a promise than like a threat.
John tried not to watch him in the shower as he puttered around trying to clean up all incriminating traces (and trying not to think about whether anyone would bother going forensics on the suite once they were gone, wow, what would they think about their findings. Meep.)
John tried not to watch him, for a while, but then he realized Karkat was watching him -- as he cleaned, as he led the way back outside (still no Dad, phew), as he bagged the incriminating evidence and fished his dress pants out and wriggled back in them -- and it was cat-smug and lazily satisfied and -- and.
And maybe John had a right to watch back? Maybe he did and wow did that feel awesome, strange like something he'd never expected to want but awesome anyways. Maybe he --
Oh.
"Zhann, what?"
Oh.
Wow, so that was what having your heart dropkicked felt like.
He turned back to face him -- Karkat was on the couch and John wanted to sit beside him and make out, and instead he -- had Karkat forgotten, too? He'd remember soon, and what if he remembered in public. It'd be worse to wait, but. Shit.
Shit.
"Gamzee," he said, and watched the floor between Karkat's feet.
So that meant it took him a few seconds before realizing the funny slapping noise was Karkat facepalming -- and even then, only because he did it again.
"Oh my fuckshit stupid shitdumb head, shit in head, Zhann, no. No! You are stupid stupid fuckstupid and I can do to you before?!"
"I ... think in this case 'do you' works just fine as a verb," John replied dumbly, and blinked. "Uh, what?"
--
They spent the whole way home trying to beat Alien Romance for Dummies into John's head with Karkat's very limited number of tools, though really "Gamzee is my Rhoz!" made the main point clear fairly okay.
(Also maybe holding hands, between the seats where Noir's men couldn't see.)
quite a few are porn though.
----------------
Anonymous asked: okay idk if you remember this but a long time ago you posted a chatlog between you and ... adi? i think? anyway and it was about dave and bro as demon hunters and the maryams as vampires and karkat was a demon who was in hiding and had been taken in by the maryams as their 'cousin'? if you remember it, could you write some demonhunter!dave exploring demon!karkat's sexy xeno body?
((sure thing! chatlog’s here just in case. this turned out less porny than i planned for though. welp.))
--
They're sitting on the edge of Karkat's bed with the comforter (decorated with little cartoon bats) fluffing up around them. The room has movie posters on the walls and they have to stay quiet in case of family downstairs and Karkat has his shirt off.
It's probably the most cliche teenagery thing Dave has ever done, in a way.
In another way Karkat is probably supposed to sit facing him and they're probably supposed to be macking.
Dave can't squint at his hand like he'll pierce through the illusion spell stopping him from seeing what his hands feel if he's kissing the dude, though. Also the invisible TUNNEL OF TOOTHY DOOM unnerves him a little when he pauses to think about it.
Unnerves him a lot.
The skin looks smooth, warm brown; there are a couple of beauty spots, a pimple. When he runs his thumb across it he doesn't feel it.
He feels the edges of a long, rough tear instead, long healed but still thick, grooves and hollows and strange bumps which he tries to visualize, which he never fully manages.
The worst is over his shoulder blades, two roundish craters where the roots of his wings used to be. He doesn't say anything, though he's hard like stone under Dave's hand and it's not a demon thing, just a I fucking hate this but I will die before I tell you to stop thing.
Dave makes sure to keep in contact with the thinning scars as he slides his hand down or he'd lose track of them under the spell. At least until the small of Karkat's back; then he has other things to follow.
His knuckles follow Karkat's spine and his eyes follow -- well -- he doesn't see a lot of his ass with the pants and the comforter in the way, but when his fingers glide down the curve and move the cloth away it stays away, as if Dave was the one who created a hollow depression in which Karkat's long smooth tail is coiled.
Weird. As. Fuck.
"What did I tell you about your hands and my ass, shitstain," Karkat says between gritted teeth.
Dave leans in and kisses the back of his neck, mostly to be an asshole. "I didn't touch your ass even once, your honor, this is a false accusation and I am very hurt."
He curls his fingers around the tail, lets it glide through from root to tip. He can't see it but he can see the way Karkat's back tries to arch, the way he shivers.
"This is attached to my ass, you stupid turdfucking douche, are you done molesting me?"
Dave lets the fan of soft feathers over the spade tip of Karkat's tail glide free and leans against his back, wraps his arms around him. He pretends he's joking.
Karkat pretends he's annoyed, but he leans into his hold anyways. Dave breathes warm and deliberate against his neck, and waits Karkat has gone through shivery anticipation and annoyed impatience before he kisses it.
"... Is your dick poking me in the ass."
Dave shuffles a little closer and tries not to groan as his semi nestles against the seat of Karkat's pants. "Looks like. Hey, we never said anything about exploring with my Excalibur."
"You're right, we never did," Karkat replies, ferociously amiable. "Want to check out my claws next?"
"Goddamnit Vantas, we're never going to get to third base if you keep threatening my pokey bits with your shreddy bits. Are you a teenager or what?"
"I'm forty-five actually."
Dave blinks, thrown. "... What, really?"
Karkat twists in his loosened hold and pins him to the mattress without warning, settles on top of him with eyes gleaming. Heart hammering, Dave reminds himself that Karkat would never kill him on top of bedding Porrim would have to wash afterwards.
"Nope, I was just fucking with you."
Dave eventually finds it easier not to reach for his silver knives after a couple minutes of kissing where nothing happens but olympic tongue wrestling and a couple passes of dick fencing.
And then Kanaya comes to knock and call Karkat down for dinner, and Dave topples them both to the floor with a loud clonk in his race to be out of the window before she decides to come in and check on her pseudo-cousin.
He spends the next ten minutes sitting on the Maryams' roof and willing his teenage boner down to acceptable-in-public levels, since he's not carrying a sword to camouflage it with today.
--
Anonymous asked: 30th!davekat, Karkat finally lets Dave do him in the butt
--
"I better get a pony for this," Karkat hisses between his teeth, back twisted so he can brace a hand on Dave's knee. His thighs are trembling under the strain.
He's crouching over Dave, precariously balanced on the balls of his feet, and it's the first thing he's said since two minutes ago, when the head of Dave's dick first popped in.
"I'm -- trying so hard -- not to make a riding joke, babe -- you don't even know."
Karkat plants a hand on the middle of his chest and leans down -- the angle changes, and Dave has like one and a half inch of valiant sausage up there, barely, but he groans anyway. (Karkat doesn't make any noise, careful not to even breathe lest he betray himself.)
Then he headbutts Dave. Mostly gently, though.
"Why d'you think I fucking said it, shitstick." His forehead is still pressed against Dave's, dark hair tumbling into his face. He still looks tense, concentrating -- not very into it, but Dave knows if he offers him an out he will be snarled at. "A double entendre this large passing me by, call the, shit, call the hospital."
It's a bit easier when he's bracing against Dave's chest, even though with his forearm down across Dave's body his elbow digs in Dave's stomach pretty nicely. Dave will live, and he's got another inch in, so he shuts up.
"Can I make hung like a horse jokes."
"Only if you're talking shetland pony."
"Yeah, I think one of ‘em would fit on the patio. Which, ah, which color coat d'you want?"
Karkat snorts, rocks tentatively against him. Dave's toes clench on the sheets. Not moving is the hardest thing he's ever done.
"The cats would hunt it down and kill it," Karkat says, almost regretful, and starts moving, rocking long and slow.
It takes a little while before Karkat's doubtful frown relaxes, before he sits back up on Dave's hips and rolls his hips less stiffly, more like he might be starting to enjoy it.
Dave doesn't think it's ever going to be his favorite thing, but sugar daddy jokes aside Karkat was the one who offered and so Dave doesn't mind if he ever offers again. Just once, just this one time, buried to the hilt in him, hands on his hips and ruining his back sitting sort-of-up to kiss him, it's perfect.
That's when Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds executes a perfect Death From Above through the open skylight, of fucking course.
--
Anonymous asked: Davekarezi. Terezi the super rich and powerful lawyer, and her two blushing stay-at-home husbands.
--
Terezi parks the scuttlebuggy in the yard and despite wanting nothing more than to crawl home, she goes and locks the fence. After the time the buggy escaped and ate Mrs. Pendleton's prize roses, she makes sure. It'll have to make do with their grass and a few daisies.
At least their yard is never overgrown. That's yet another technicality the neighborhood association can't make a case out of. And she was being very generous in agreeing to keep the paint colors to approved (boring) shades. The house fits in just fine!
Some days she maybe secretly wishes a tiny bit she didn't have to climb a rope to get home, but today she landed a miscreant in human jail to reflect on his crimes and she feels grimly victorious, enough to combat the fatigue.
"Hallo the den of iniquity! I'm home!" she yells when she makes it to the landing, after she has spat her briefcase's handle out of her mouth. (The serrated corner almost gets her in the foot.)
Her sharp hearing catches a startled hiss and hurried whispers, and a not very discreet "release him!" As she divests herself of her boots and tailored vest, she spars Crabdad back into his room, whose room mysteriously unlocked on her. She whaps him on his crabby nose before he can take a playful bite out of her arm and shoves her vest in the closet, and kicks him back in his room. Locked! Victorious.
"Booooys?"
Her mom sleeps curled up in a perfect little circle of chubby baby dragon, on a pillow that is damn well not at its place here and which she suspects was moved with malice aforethought. She still pauses to pet Mom's little nose and settle her wings properly on her back anyways. Her mom is the cutest mom, and she will duel anyone who says otherwise, Nepeta included.
... But she has been delayed long enough, as she can tell when she hears through the door cloth being thrown on the floor and a mattress bouncing with sudden, slightly over the top enthusiasm.
"Aha!"
When she bursts into the respiteblock Dave and Karkat are naked as the day they hatched (or burst out of some lady's vagina, she supposes), entangled on the concupiscent platform, gray and peach expanses of skin, messy liquorice and egg yolk, matching -- bare -- cherry eyes.
"Honey!"
"Terezi--"
"You're home!"
"We, uh, we missed you."
Dave is on his back, watching her upside down, and he deadpans, "We missed you naked."
Karkat groans and tries to hide his face in the sheets, but he can't without pressing his face to Dave's shoulder; they both blush a little more. Terezi's lips stretch into a long, long smile.
"Yeah," Karkat says without conviction. "There was a lot of. Naked."
Their laptops are still open; without even breathing deep she knows the black on white files will be Dave's movie script and Karkat's romance novel, cursors still blinking at the end of incomplete sentences, and the other windows will be Empire Of Warcraft Strikes Back Online.
She bets their star-paladins are at least seven levels higher than they were this morning, but that is neither here nor there.
She walks in, swoons theatrically onto the mattress beside them, upside down. They scramble to separate and sit up.
"We missed you very sexily," Dave says, as his hand inches toward her foot. Karkat leans over her face, peering at her with faint worry.
"Yeah, right. There was a lot of sex."
"But it never did take the edge off, alas and woe. He just ain't you, babe, all I can say." Dave makes barkbeast eyes at her up the length of her legs.
"Hey, you shut your mouth about my skills, taintbuffer."
Sometimes all that gets her to fight her way through the day is the thought of her two hivehusbands waiting, desperate for her, naked and pails out. Who would sate their lust and keep them in internet connections and MMPORG memberships if she didn't?
She sits up to allow Karkat to make a backrest of himself, and puts her feet in Dave's lap.
A little massage to relax her clenched muscles, she thinks, and then she will ravish them properly.
(She reminds herself to crack the window open so Mrs. Jenseny doesn't start believing her unsubtle attempts at poaching a dragon's mates from her have any chance of success, and so Mr. Levinburgh will laugh and throw his vote in her favor next neighborhood association backbiting session.)
--
"You make the most hilarious faces," John says, right between tender and teasing.
Karkat elbows him in the solar plexus, since Davesprite is otherwise engaged. "You say one word," he hisses, "about his quackbeast faces, and I am barring you from any further quadrant shenanigans."
John gasps in (faked) shock and hugs him around the chest, which has the effect of expelling all of Karkat' remaining air. He makes a dying croak that may be confused for a moan.
It has nothing to do with the sinuous coil of Davesprite's tail slowly filling up his nook, either.
"You can't! Come on, I was just teasing, pretty please." John nuzzles Karkat's hair, kisses his horn. Karkat has told him a dozen times they don't really feel anything he does to them, but he persists. It is not cute at all, for the record. It doesn't make him feel almost reconciled to their ridiculously safe roundness either. "I will be devoured by curiosity and then you'll have my death on your conscience, Karkat, and you will feel horrible, mark my words. I can't die without knowing how much you can fit in there, I just can't!"
Davesprite snorts quietly, paps John shamelessly over the head, flattening his ridiculous hair. "Dude, don't fret, there is no way Mister Kinkmaster here will give up on his depraved 'rail sandwich--"
He squawks like a featherbeast when Karkat grabs his hips and pulls them down so the thick part of his tail hangs in heavy coils across and between Karkat's spread thighs. (Because um seriously his voyeuristic thrills at John and Feather Dave's shameless human moirallegiance have zero part in this venture. Except for all the parts in which they have a part. Er. Where was he. Oh right, riding Davesprite.) "You want to talk depraved," he growls, pretending his face isn't dark with embarrassment, "good, let's talk your stupid featherbeast slit and my bulge."
For a second before Davesprite mock-swoons into his chest he is staring at Karkat like he wants to swoon for real.
The effect is a little ruined when John throws his weight against Karkat's back and folds them both in two at the waist under his weight, but after that he starts to see if his human dick will find a place between the loops of Davesprite's tail Karkat is already riding, so Karkat magnanimously decide he'll punish him for laughing as he does it afterwards.
--
Anonymous asked: Davekat. Arranged marriage! The first time they are alone together is on their wedding night.
--
"No, but answer me this, do you want to invalidate this whole farce of a legal and religious joining of blah-di-fucking-blah? Because I have looked at your laws and if we don't consummate the union it's not valid!"
Karkat loomed over his brand-new husband, teeth bared -- which might have been more intimidating if he hadn't been fighting ineffectually with the fiddly wedding shirt's too-precious-to-destroy buttons for the last five minutes. (It wasn't that his hands were shaking and he needed to keep them busy, of course not.)
"I have it from an actual lawyer that this means we do, actually, 'have to fuck it out', because the law doesn't care about irrelevant asides and special cases like reproductive incompatibility!"
Karkat's 'husband' gave a slow blink from the bed, where he lay stretches out on his side, still fully dressed and his boots on. The coverlet was dusty now but who gave a fuck, Karkat sure as hell didn't, he was pretty sure he wanted to slap his feet off there for pretty much the same reason he wanted to slap him across the face.
"Dude. I don't know about you but for months I've been buried in wedding preparation shit out of a hundred bulls, like, mammoth sized bulls. I've slept like five--" he lifted his hand, fingers open like Karkat needed it illustrated, "hours this whole last week. We have a whole and entire night where by tradition no one's gonna bother us until it's time to shower us in croissants and bacon and then leave us alone the rest of the next morning. I don't care what you do, but I'm sleeping."
Karkat hissed under his breath, and yanked his undershirt open. Buttons plinked off under the concupiscent platform. He turned to face his husband, letting the shirt fall open, daring him to -- to say anything, say the wrong thing, make the wrong face, not make any face --
Dave's mouth flattened in a line Karkat couldn't interpret. "Congrats on the most sensual strip-tease I was ever on the receiving end of," he drawled.
Karkat was about to tackle him -- he knew it wasn't how it was supposed to go but kismeses were concupiscent enough for wedding vows to fit and better than nothing, were they? -- but then he sat up and sighed, shoulders sagging with unfeigned tiredness.
"You're as into me as a snipped cat is into a cactus, dude. Which granted is weird as fuck but leave the Strider magic some time to operate, yeah? People will only know that we took, like, two days or, or even a week to frick if we tell them."
Karkat rolled his eyes. He'd met Karkat's best woman, hadn't he? "Or they sniff it off us, and they happen to be law-obsessed!"
"... Well then we'll say we did it under the shower. Tadah, magic. No but point is I am so tired a whole brothel's worth of pros couldn't suck my dick hard right now, I mean not saying that you're not cute -- I mean, you've got a nice ass and all and all I just -- this is meant to illustrate how freakily exhausted I am, okay, it's not a judgment on your hotness meter or like, my usual level of performance, I can perform fine, hell, great, I just."
His weird pale skin had gone wine-dark, his impassible face awkward with tension.
"Like. Not today."
The tangle of Karkat's rage and nerves unwound all at once.
"You're a virgin, aren't you."
Dave pretended to look straight at him, but Karkat's eyes were better than his in candlelight and it was easy to see them skidding away. "Wow, what's with those aspersions, no, seriously, fuck you."
"Tomorrow," Karkat promised around a crooked smile, and made himself sit on the mattress beside his husband to pull off his boots and kick off his pants.
--
Anonymous asked: Dave and Karkat trying out 69
(i was still trying to keep them short back then... haha ha ha. ha.)
--
"No but seriously why can't I be on top, it's dark as hell down here and how the fuck do you -- hngh -- do you keep missing, I mean the goal of the exercise is for both of us to get our own at once, and either it's in my hair and my shhh-- my snot launcher is alone in the cold and damp, or your -- snake charming is, is trying to bore a hole through my clavicles. I feel I should tell you, like, from a place of caring, bro, this is not sexy, and I can't ruin your, ff, your shit and I can't even see jack shit either--"
Karkat shuffled his knees, lowered himself with perhaps more vigor that he thought safe or nice -- but he was fucking fed up with Dave's useless micromanaging and his even more useless junk and right now he didn't want to be nice and he didn't care if his cartilaginous sniffnub got smushed against Karkat's taint.
And then Dave groaned right there against the softest part of him, and his weird human bulge jumped in Karkat's hand, and after due reflection (holy shit, holy shit) Karkat decided he would reciprocate later, once he got the hang of other things. If he tried to suck his dick and mash himself against his face at the same time there would be a teeth-related incident that might well get Karkat's (softwettease) tongue privileges revoked forever, he could see it coming like he was Seer of Bad Sex.
--
johnkateer asked: HM may I request a johnkat ficlet spin on Karkat's extended bathroom time in your most recent installment of BT for johnkat day?
(damn right you can. and then several people asked for more of it and then there were three thousand words.)
--
It would have been dead silent, if not for the soft plink, plink of water into the tub and Karkat's harsh breathing. John stood frozen, the bathroom door held half closed behind him.
He was vaguely aware, peripherally, that Karkat's red, furious eyes were on his face. His own eyes couldn't tear themselves away from that place between Karkat's legs where three of his fingers disappeared down to the last knuckle.
Karkat closed his knees, grabbed the edges of the tub to haul himself up. John found himself staring at the ceiling, face caught on fire. "I. I. Wash my hands. Other bathroom had no soap, haha. Needed to... It was open!"
"Was not open before you," Karkat snarled, and advanced on him, and John took a second -- not even that much!-- to glance back (oh wow, were the locks flimsy in this hotel, haha whoops) and when he turned to look at Karkat again the alien -- his enemychum prisonerpalbuddy -- was in his face, grey like suede and striped with white scars and dripping water everywhere.
He slammed both hands on the door around John's head, slammed it closed and how had John's back gotten pressed to it again? He couldn't -- oh shit, that was. Close. Very close. 'Shirt getting damp from Karkat's dripping hair' close. 'Hot angry breath against his face' close.
"Maybe I make you help me," Karkat growled, so low it sounded like a tiger's purr.
John's spent dick made a valiant effort at rising back to duty.
He was pretty sure Karkat didn't mean it much -- that he was more irritated than sincere, he knew that.
"Okay," he said, all quiet between the water drops, so his voice didn't even echo off the tiles.
Karkat twitched -- so close John couldn't have missed it with his eyes closed, but his eyes were open, as it so happened, lowered in (panic?) (guilt?) (shame?) something he couldn't deal with, and he could see all the way down a gray suede chest. He couldn't have missed that chalky scar on ash skin jumping where it crossed abdominal muscles, the tiny, unmistakable way Karkat's whole body flexed then, tense in an entirely different way.
A breathless pause.
"Zhann? You--"
The tip of Karkat's tongue (red) peeked out to wet his lower lip (black.) John tried not to bite his own, failed.
He didn't need the telepathic headband right now, he knew how Karkat thought, what he thought now, what he was weighing his words to ask, almost -- maybe -- start talking himself out of asking.
He curled into Karkat's body, down until he could hide his face against his shoulder, and said, "Yes," very quietly.
Karkat surged up against him, pinned him to the door with his body (bare, dripping, soaking through his clothes and John was the one who felt exposed.) Hands cupped his face, raked through the hair at his temples, fisted two handfuls of hair at the back of his skull, a mouth pressed hot and insistent against his and he was kissing back on blind instinct. It was nothing, nothing like the giggly explorations with Roxy, Rose's teasing, shallow kisses. (Nothing like the time with the nanites. Even despite the tension.)
His hands were running, grabbing their blind way up and down Karkat's back to pull him closer, as if there was any closer to be attained. They rocked together from the hips up as they kissed, strong and rough in a way he had never expected to enjoy.
He whined when Karkat paused, leaned his head back to stare at him, unreadable, whined louder when he started to pull on John's hair (experimentally, slow) to force John's head back, bare his throat. Oh fuck, oh fuck, teeth, oh.
"Help me," Karkat said slowly against his throat, words oddly cautious, measured. "I help you later. Yes?"
John tried to unclench his fingers, tried not to dig them in so hard -- he was going to bruise him, hurt him, lose control of his own strength and -- but Karkat rolled his back into John's hands like he didn't mind, rolled back into him, pressed up against his dick, and yeah, okay, he was hard again now.
He should have thought before he answered but he'd always made his most crucial decisions on the fly and besides his mouth had run off without him already. "Yes, yes, anything you want -- oh fuck, Karkat--"
He let his alien boy guide him down his strong gray body, all the way down to his knees.
He didn't even need any hair pulling to lean in and grip Karkat's ass in his hands and pull his strange alien crotch against his breathless mouth.
Any other time he would have been cautious, he would have approached slowly -- he'd heard enough from Jade and Roxy about foreplay and people attacking ladybits with their mouths but (these were not lady bits) these were alien bits and, and Karkat bits and who even knew how they --
Who cared.
Hands clenched on Karkat's ass, John licked his way into that slit, lapped at translucent candy-red, mouth mashed against Karkat's skin, against his mound, chin digging in and nose pressed so tight it was hard to breathe and he had to pull away to gasp before diving in again.
Karkat's hands were still in his hair, clenching and releasing, patting blindly at his skull -- and desperate as John was to tonguefuck him to release it took him a ridiculously long time to notice, and an even longer one to realize Karkat was looking for his horns.
(Not finding them, either, and it was ridiculous that in the middle of frantically trying to make someone come with his mouth John could even feel his throat tighten with painful sympathy.)
No folds in the slit, no second set of lips, but in the hole there were bits and things that twitched against his tongue and it was disturbing as fuck and made Karkat keen, so loud he thought his glasses would ping and Noir would be asking what the hell. John made hurried shushing noises against his inner thigh as he tried to breathe, slipped an arm all the way around the back of Karkat's thighs. He couldn't get deep enough with just his tongue and from the way Karkat's hips twitched and the noises he made, John was teasing him more than anything and no, he didn't want that.
"Don't shh, shh to me," Karkat ground out. When John glanced up he was bent over him, forehead pressed against the door and face scrunched as if in pain, eyes closed tight.
His alien dick barred his face in two from this angle, though.
Whoa.
"Zhann? Zhann, n'leysha, ak'ths, ssh--"
Karkat devolved into clicking, grating noises and John couldn't tell which were words and which were moans. Begging either way, though. (Please don't stop, please.)
He licked his sore, wet lips and traced the edge of the slit with his fingers, and slowly pushed them in.
Karkat's inner muscles, inner -- things clamped down immediately, started trying to suck them in deeper, holy shit, John couldn't help imagining that on his dick and oh, oh hell, he needed a free hand for his pants party but at the same time if he stopped holding onto Karkat's hips, no, no.
He leaned in to lick at the edges again, around and between his own fingers, heart beating hard in his throat, in his temples, licked up and up to the base of, of--
Karkat was staring down at him, irises blown so wide there was only a tiny dot of black left, a narrow circle of gold.
His hips were narrow and his ass square, and his shoulders were really not any shoulders John had ever seen on a girl, anyways, and that didn't stop him wanting to -- wanting to...
Fingers knuckle-deep in tight, clenching warmth, John pressed a trembling kiss to the base of Karkat's alien dick.
He had a brief, burning moment of wishing Dirk was here, or at least wishing that he had laughed over him and made ewww faces a bit less and tried to memorize more of his comebacks and asides related to going down on a guy.
Yeah, no, never mind, nothing could prepare him to that. Karkat's hand was clenched in his hair -- holding, not pulling -- and he could feel it shaking, could feel the way Karkat's thumb trembled when he rubbed a nice, soothing circle where the root of John's horn should have been.
He mouthed his way up Karkat's shaft. (It was a bit weird, thin damp skin, kind of like underneath John's foreskin only maybe even worse.) Karkat was still staring at him, and John hadn't caught him blinking even once. He tried on a little smile.
"Uh. That okay?"
"... You stop, I die." A flicker of a smile, eyes gone warm in a different way. "Help me, Zhann Eb'rt, you're my only hope."
John burst out laughing against his dick. "Oh my god, who taught you that! Was it Dave?! I bet it was Dave!"
Karkat chuckled quietly, eyes closing, and shifted his weight, spreading his feet a little. "Mnh no. Rokchi. Shh." He shifted on John's fingers and John remembered where they were, remembered to move them, to curl them and see what happened. From the spasm of activity inside and the way Karkat groaned, it was good.
Still grinning, giggling, he kissed his way to the tip and took the first couple of inches in his mouth.
It was -- awkward. Doable, though -- he moved his head a bit faster and tried to stop hearing Dave in his mind. Who cared about self-consciousness when they could be listening to the weird, awesome sounds Karkat made, all quiet and muffled, snaky hisses and almost birdlike trills that John had never heard before melting back into more familiar crickety clicks?
Giddy, he sucked a little harder, a little deeper. He could do this, who the hell cared--
"Aow! Stop, stop, mouth, hard, ow."
Oops, teeth. Contrite, he tried to figure out how to protect Karkat from them, managed something with his lips that was probably going to end up cutting his own mouth in the end but who cared, nanites for the win. When he sped up again Karkat had no protests, trilled for him sweet and soft and so pretty, and his thighs clenched in John's hold like he wanted to rock himself against his face, only the angle was wrong for (oh lord) face-fucking.
(Karkat fucking his mouth, holding him by the hair and pulling, he was developing a kink for it right here, right now, felt a tug and it went right to his dick and oh, Karkat thrusting in and out of his mouth, oh god, oh fuck.)
He went a little higher up (his knees hurt) and tried to swallow more, faster.
Karkat's dick moved in his mouth. The next second Karkat was pulling him off, holding him by the temples, and John coughed and blinked bewildered at it and up at Karkat's face and oh wow, it was moving. The, what, upper third? half? was curling against Karkat's belly, leaving dark pink trails on his gray skin.
(Looking for an alien pussy, like Karkat had, oh god, oh. Looking for John's mouth.)
Karkat's hands fell off his hair, onto his shoulders, and he pulled him up and moving. John stumbled after, legs all pins and needles and shaky, fell right back down on his ass, half in the shower stall, and then Karkat had lost patience and was on his lap, mouth pressed hot and hungry to his and crotch tight and hot and damp against the tent in John's jeans.
John's spine dug right into the edge of the shower stall and he didn't care at all. His arms were around Karkat, so tight he thought he might be leaving bruises, but Karkat only pushed himself closer and fucked his mouth with his tongue, hands framing his face, a thumb rubbing his cheek, his jaw.
John reached up and cupped the back of his neck, carded his fingers through hair wiry as Bec's coat, found a satiny, blood-warm horn and ran his fingers up the inner curve of it, looped his fingers around it. Karkat shuddered, ground himself harder against John's crotch, hard enough that John almost toppled backward into the shower stall. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving John blinking, shifted his hips back on John's lap, and then plunged a (clawed) (wall-piercing) hand down the front of John's jeans.
John groaned and tilted his hips into it, forehead pressed to Karkat's shoulder (he didn't remember doing that.)
Karkat's skin was rough and his hold a tad too loose and John didn't feel the claws even once. He tried to get his hand back to business, fumbled it, and then didn't know which part to go for -- but reaching between Karkat's legs right now would have broken his wrist, especially with how insistently Karkat rubbed himself against his thigh. Fingers curled around alien dick, he kissed the side of his neck blindly, nuzzled his way up to the soft place behind his ear, tried not to bite down on anything.
The sudden flood of wet heat on his lap had his eyes fly open once again. What the hell? His first thought were hot water or (ew) pee but when he looked down there was translucent red everywhere running over his jeans, seeping between his legs onto the bath mat and Karkat was still shaking himself apart. Aw hell.
John planted his heels, freed a hand to brace, managed to lift the both of them off the floor and into the shower somehow (he had the edge of the shower basin engraved in his flesh at this point.) Shaky, eyes wide, he watched -- Karkat's face, scrunched with something that looked like pain, how hard he pressed down onto John's leg -- that denim, he didn't get how that didn't hurt -- the way his grip on John's dick actually loosened, like even now he was thinking about making sure he didn't hurt him.
When he went all loose on John's lap John kissed his horn and wrapped his own hand around Karkat's hand to finish himself off.
It didn't take very long.
"We are," Karkat said eventually with his cheek smushed against John's shoulder, "bad ew asshole no."
John giggled. "Gross. Gross is the word you want. Oh my god, I'm totally going to have to go home in uniform pants."
Or, uh, considering the splash on his t-shirt, probably in uniform.
Well, maybe not the jacket. Seriously, fuck the jacket.
Okay no, fuck Karkat, Karkat was totally better to... huh. "... I wonder if that means I'm not a virgin anymore?"
Eyes closed, Karkat felt blindly around his face and pressed a hand across his mouth.
John licked his palm as wetly as he could.
--
"I think I should just throw them out," John said after a few seconds of contemplating the gross jeans currently glued to his skin and soaked through with red.
Karkat had heaved himself off John's lap a minute ago to slump against the glass wall of the shower stall, and couldn't stop stealing glances at John's lap. John would have felt sexily defiled if Karkat didn't look mortified.
"Uhn, what?"
"Pants. No good. Gonna have to burn them. Froosh."
Karkat groaned and buried his face in his hands. "That too," he said, tilting his head, horn first, at the bath mat. There was a sizeable patch of red on its creamy plushness. Welp.
"Hehe."
Karkat kicked his ankle, a little bit, face still covered. John dragged his legs inside the shower and climbed to his feet, still chuckling.
"C'mon, get up." He unbuttoned his jeans. Eww, human jizz. "Karkat, get up. Kaaarkat."
"No. I die now. Fuck you."
"You kinda just did."
"--Oh. Huhn. Yeah."
He peeked over his hand and through his hair at John, who grinned down and offered a hand to haul him up. He couldn't help but laugh, blushing, when Karkat's eyes briefly fell onto his open pants on his way up. Umm, yeah.
He kicked off his pants. His underwear was okay; he unhooked the showerhead to rinse off his hands, soak the jeans puddled on the floor. "Here, wash off. I'll try to soak the mat, see what happens."
Showerhead handed off to Karkat, he bounced off the stall, rolled up the mat, chucked it into the bath -- laughed some more at the traces of red already streaking the inside. "Oh my god, you copycat." Karkat growl-purred at him, eyes at half-mast in a way that made the growl sound more like a promise than like a threat.
John tried not to watch him in the shower as he puttered around trying to clean up all incriminating traces (and trying not to think about whether anyone would bother going forensics on the suite once they were gone, wow, what would they think about their findings. Meep.)
John tried not to watch him, for a while, but then he realized Karkat was watching him -- as he cleaned, as he led the way back outside (still no Dad, phew), as he bagged the incriminating evidence and fished his dress pants out and wriggled back in them -- and it was cat-smug and lazily satisfied and -- and.
And maybe John had a right to watch back? Maybe he did and wow did that feel awesome, strange like something he'd never expected to want but awesome anyways. Maybe he --
Oh.
"Zhann, what?"
Oh.
Wow, so that was what having your heart dropkicked felt like.
He turned back to face him -- Karkat was on the couch and John wanted to sit beside him and make out, and instead he -- had Karkat forgotten, too? He'd remember soon, and what if he remembered in public. It'd be worse to wait, but. Shit.
Shit.
"Gamzee," he said, and watched the floor between Karkat's feet.
So that meant it took him a few seconds before realizing the funny slapping noise was Karkat facepalming -- and even then, only because he did it again.
"Oh my fuckshit stupid shitdumb head, shit in head, Zhann, no. No! You are stupid stupid fuckstupid and I can do to you before?!"
"I ... think in this case 'do you' works just fine as a verb," John replied dumbly, and blinked. "Uh, what?"
--
They spent the whole way home trying to beat Alien Romance for Dummies into John's head with Karkat's very limited number of tools, though really "Gamzee is my Rhoz!" made the main point clear fairly okay.
(Also maybe holding hands, between the seats where Noir's men couldn't see.)