Chapter Text
So it had finally come to this. Hell, he was such a goddamned colossal bulgefucking idiot. Karkat walked down the hall behind the two pants-shittingly huge adult violet blooded subjuggulators, his stomach sinking more with each step. Why hadn't he thought of a plan before it got to this point? He kept thinking he would, kept figuring like a mushpanned wiggler that somehow something was going to work itself out, that he wouldn't just end up as a grotesque bright red smear against some chucklefuck's wall.
But nope, fucking brilliant Karkat Vantas has spectacularly failed to think of a plan other than dumbly putting one foot in front of the other like a cowering bleatbeast being led to the slaughter. Oh well. At least he'd made it through his wigglerhood and into his first adult molt. At least he'd had some friends, for awhile. At least he'd met Kanaya, even though he was about to repay her kindness with a generous one way ticket to being culled for hiding a mutant-blooded troll. He'd had one good sweep planetside with her, yelling at his dumbfuck friends on Trollian, sprawled outdoors on neatly clipped lawns in the mild moonlight. The planet was temperate and dim all year round, even during the day, orbiting a weaker sun than their own back on Alternia. He'd hoped that maybe he could just live out his days there with the other limebloods and Kanaya.
He nearly ran into the broad back of one of the subjuggulators when they both came to a sharp stop. One of them knocked on the door of the respiteblocks at the very end of this hallway. It was spaced apart from the doors nearest to it by quite a bit, the chambers within were clearly much larger than the others. Someone important, then. He swallowed and tried to calm his wildly beating pusher. Maybe there was still some chance this highblood, whoever he was, wouldn't notice. If it was dim in that room, if the troll he had been assigned to just did his business then ignored him, if he could keep his mouth shut like the meek little brainwashed limeblood he was fucking expected to be…then maybe.
Still, it was mortifying to think about. Despite the very detailed schoolfeeds they'd had about every minute nuance of the breeding process, Karkat had never properly pailed anyone. Much less an adult sweeps older than him, much less a highblood. They'd dressed him in a robe, modestly long sleeved and ankle length with thick fabric, lime accents at the hems. But as modest as it seemingly was, it was also easy to open, just a thick lime colored sash wound around his waist to hold it closed, tucked instead of tied.
His indigo-blooded escorts hadn't talked to him the entire time they'd been herding him; an odd thing considering that they were normally known for their noise when they weren't out slaughtering batches of nonbelievers or resistances or both. They stopped at the door, standing on either side as one reached out to solemnly knock on it. There wasn't an answer - not one anyone could hear, anyway, just a smooth ripple of chill that curled up from the base of the spine, the feeling of someone dragging ice up along to where it connected at the base of the skull. Apparently this was a meaning all of its own - the subjuggulator to the left opened one of the doors, not even much bothering to look at Karkat as he walked inside. Not even bothering to glare as Karkat's eyes caught stare of the highblood escort's mouth, stitched together tight.
The room was big, maybe as big as the entire hive compartment that had housed Karkat and his clutch of other wrigglers, which had not been cramped accommodations, really. But it was dark, and hazy with smoke besides, a thousand and a thousand more candles flickering everywhere, flower sticks burning all around contributing to the heady mix of it, scenting the air like a deep summer night, too. There was the smell of blood with it, but that seemed everywhere on the ship - even where no blood could be seen, the smell pervaded, sinking into the metal of the walls and floors and ceilings. There was plenty here for it to sink into, though - the room was draped with an assortment of fabrics, not all exclusively Alternian, but somehow reminiscent of Kanaya's own respite block, of the bright bolts of fabric she loved to decorate with. Somehow, it seemed more sinister here, though not entirely dissimilar.
The room, in essence, as crammed as it was with sensory overload, still dwarfed Karkat by quite a lot. It was a dangerous place, with too many shadows and too many places to hide, and the feeling always that something was watching. Which was a good instinct to have, since something - someone- very much /was/.
Karkat's hands clenched at his sides, balling into the fabric of his robes, ruining the smooth, neat line of them. Well, it was better than shitting himself in terror, which he was half sure he might do at any second. There was something indescribably ominous about the room, even though it wasn't full to the brim with bloodied corpses, weapons and torture devices, it still had the distinct tang of violence, of religious blood rituals, of strange rites totally unknown to him. The chill that had dropped down his spine like a block of ice was crawling back up again, slow and prickly, and he swallowed, trying to keep it together. Despite all the candles, the light was flickering and uncertain, there was still a remote chance he wasn't going to die tonight.
He looked around, wide eyed, taking everything in carefully, and had to choke back a noise of protest when the highbloods that had been flanking him, seemingly satisfied that their job was done, turned to leave, pulling the door closed behind them. When it was shut, a little noise scraped out of him anyway, like a beast whose whose leg had just been snapped onto by a steel trap, and he lurched towards the closed door to try the handle like a damn idiot. Locked, of course, the lock was probably computerized to register blood temperature, at the very least. He rested his forehead against it and took a slow, shaky breath, yelling at himself to fucking get it together. Was he going to die like a trembling hopbeast, or was he going to grow the fuck up and face this inevitable conclusion like the runty technically-adult troll he was? He grit his teeth together, squared his shoulders and turned around, with his back to the door, scanning the room again, slowly, trying to catch some sign of movement.
There wasn't any. There never was, not now. Gamzee Makara had perfected making himself invisible to anybody who cared to look, his body silent enough and his powers subtle enough that he could cloud the mind, distract from himself when he wanted to. But he opened his eyes, and let the little troll catch sight of them, wondering what he would do. Wondering how he would handle the violet glow in the shadows, the vague outline of a troll that seemed a behemoth to him, though he was only an adolescent indigo at best, his massive form suggested by the dim glow of candlelight against the contours of his body.
"What now, little brother?" he asked, voice so deep that it could rumble the aurals even from across the massive room, but strange and filtered, like it itself was so much smoke emptying out into the room. Gamzee took a step forward, coming a little more fully into the light, somehow even more massive than what had been suggested. He'd been slumped against the wall before, but now he was standing tall, striding forward like inevitable death itself, his gaunt face done up in full paint, his long claws razor sharp, smudged with paint pigments. He wasn't wearing armor, but he didn't need to - even the plain black of his leisure clothes seemed intimidating on his body, even his hair - undecorated with bones - seemed like a massive, writhing coil of tendrils, bound to choke Karkat if he got too close.
Karkat's eyes widened, slowly, and maybe his mouth gaped open just a little, like a drooling imbecile who had never seen a highblood up close, which basically he was, before he had the good sense to snap it shut. All clever retorts had fled his pan in a screaming panic. In their place, apparently was dumb sheer stupidity, and he heard himself mumble "Hello," in a voice that was a little higher pitched than his usual tone. He forced his hands to stop clenching at his robes, smoothing them down, though he couldn't stop himself from pressing his shoulder blades against the door, as if he thought maybe he could teleport through the fucking solid steel, locked door, which was ridiculous at best, but at this point he was grasping at straws for the sake of not falling into an inane blubbering heap on the rug.
"Calm, little brother. You ain't no cull with a face like that." Gamzee told him, though he realized from experience that this was little comfort to anybody not exactly as massive and twice as dangerous as he was. And there were few enough of those sorts of trolls around. Certainly not the pretty little thing before him, bound in a robe that might as well not exist for all the good it would do if Gamzee's claws snagged into it. One finger stroked the curve of the limeblood's cheek. He was so warm. He smelled of grass, and dew, and sweet things. "Give us a name."
Karkat forced himself not to flinch, forced himself not to cast his eyes down from the glowing violet gaze that was fixed on him. All he had to do was look brave, he reasoned with himself, even if he were flipping the fuck off the handle. "Karkat," he said, cursing himself for another pathetic sounding monosyllabic answer. Was that really the best he had? Hadn't he practiced his whole life at being an incorrigibly stubborn asshole who charged in without bothering to stop long enough to be afraid of anything? There was so much to be afraid of, after all, that if he started thinking about it, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He tried to keep that in mind now, they could only cull him once after all. This violetblood would probably just rip his head right off his shoulders with one hand, it would be over fast.
"Karkat." he said, testing the word in his mouth. It was short and sour and precise, and he had a feeling that wasn't far off from what it represented. "Why you so tense, Karkat? Thought they told you what you was all up here for. I ain't fixin to hurt you less you act a fool. But I ain't thinkin that's liable to happen right soon."
He exhaled, a long slow breath, let his shoulders sag a little, seeping out some tension, though he was still pressed up against the wall. He lowered his gaze, finally, thinking this over. He was tempted for a moment just to blurt it out. Because I'm a mutant and I was hiding it, my blood is a horrible eye-searing red, just make it quick and get it over with. Maybe it would be better to admit it now rather than the subjuggulator finding out mid pail. But, like a coward, he did no such thing. Maybe it was optimism, but more likely it was just that he wanted to cling to his delusion that there was some way he might get out of this alive. "This is my first time," he said, instead, and it was true, and also true enough that other than being culled, he was sort of terrified of that part too, finally being required to do his duty to the Empire with some other troll's ovipositor stuck up his seedflap.
Gamzee's eyes widened a fraction, and for a moment, he was entirely still. But that stillness spilled over into movement the next moment, and he threw his head back, letting a deep, booming laugh rumble up from his belly. The sound echoed around the room, seemed to kick the smoke into whorls of animation, and it took a few moments for the highblood to stop himself, wiping a tear from one of his eyes as he did. "Well, if that ain't ever the worst joke that did get played on a poor motherfucker, I don't know what is." Gamzee sighed, looking back at Karkat, who had jammed himself further against the wall, as if the laughter had been a prelude to slaughter. "Remind me to fuckin CULL the idiot who thought up THAT little dream... Puttin a poor little wriggler up for highblood bulge before he even stretched around an egg, fuck's sake..."
He was blinking quickly, opening his mouth thinking to maybe defend his own competency, then snapping it closed again, realizing that the laughter wasn't a sign that he was unhinged necessarily, but… what, sympathizing with him? Well, being patronized was better than having his head crunched into the steel door, he'd take what he could get. He swallowed, feeling a little more confident for every moment that passed without violent incident. "I'm not really known for doing things by halves," he admitted, and that was true, he'd always been yelled at by his friends for being reckless, too grandiose for his station. Really, he wasn't surprised at the situation he'd found himself in, even if he knew logically why, that Kanaya had been holding out for him until they found someone who could really handle him. Someone known for being a little eccentric too, maybe Kanaya was hoping he'd be so amused by Karkat that she'd be spared.
"Little brother," Gamzee began, his thumb stroking over Karkat's lips, depressing his tongue with the tip of his claw to keep him from talking a moment. It wasn't that he minded none for the little warmblood talking, it was just that Gamzee knew when he needed to speak, too. Something much easier done with little limebloods who went stock still when he so much as locked eyes. "My tongue ain't liable to fit all the way up your nook. What d'you think my bulge is gonna do? What do you think them eggs are gonna do?"
His eyes widened at that, and his glance flicked impulsively down towards the highblood's crotch, swallowing. He was careful not to scrape his finger with his teeth, even though his first damned fool instinct had been to bite down when that claw had pricked against his tongue, pinning it down. He really would have protested then, but since he couldn't speak in his own defense, he drew his brows together, determined, and stared back up at those glowing violet eyes. Then he shrugged a little, as if to say he didn't think it was such a big deal.
"You really must be telling the truth." Gamzee murmured, taking his claw back. He stroked Karkat's temple, some of his curls, getting closer by measures. After all, it wasn't hard to smell him - the wriggler /reeked/ of pheromones, all the more potent for the fact that Gamzee had been excused from his suppressants for this, excused for the wicked rite stored up in that pretty little troll in front of him. "You got no idea, do you. That's alright. Sometimes it's better to go into battle not knowing. You ain't got time to stop and shit yourself about it."
His mouth closed, but he had nothing else to say, now, as the subjuggulator's claws stroked against his temple almost tenderly. Karkat could smell him, too, incense and blood, and beneath it a distinctive musk that was spiced with an undercurrent of pheromones that made Karkat want to step closer and bury his face right up against him to inhale more of it, the hint was dizzyingly addictive. He hadn't expected there to be so much talking. Hadn't expected this troll to sympathize with him, to ask him questions, and care about the answers. He found himself relaxing even more, feeling almost like his usual self again, despite their surroundings, despite the task set out for him. His brain refused to register the whole truth of the highblood's words, that he might not be even physically capable of it. He was too stubborn to register it. He was fucked sideways by his genetics, he was cursed with the inability to know when to keep his mouth shut, but he refused to believe he wouldn't be able to step up to the plate and bear whatever ordeal was coming his way physically. That was surely the easy part.
"I'm gonna try not to hurt you, little brother. Karkat." Gamzee told him, voice low. It wasn't a promise probably any other highblood aboard the ship would have made to him, but that didn't matter; motherfucker would be bearing his grubs, and at least until they were hatched, that meant he was just as important as the eggs themselves. Putting aside that it'd be a damn shame to ruin that pretty face with tears. Well - at least when he didn't mean to. He sealed his words with a little kiss, his makeup surprisingly well sealed and unmessy, not even transferring to Karkat's lips. Soft. He was so motherfucking /soft/, all of him, Gamzee thought, fingers picking at Karkat's sash, stopping a moment when the wriggler's hands instinctively went to them, like he were going to stop it. That was alright. Gamzee could wait. He'd had a thousand sweep's experience with that.
Karkat was mortified when he'd moved to stop the highblood from pulling open his sash, he'd acted impulsively, most of his pan occupied with being entirely floored by the kiss that had pressed against his mouth. He took a slow inhale, and straightened. He pressed the other troll's hands away a couple of inches, and untucked the sash himself. If he were going to do this, he didn't want to seem like some cowering amateur, even though he was a virgin. He was committed to doing a good job, and even though his ridiculous wigglerhood dreams of being a threshecutioner had been doomed from the start, at least he could do this right.
The robe parted, and with a shrug of his shoulders, it fell into a heavy pile on the floor around his feet. There wasn't much to see, in Karkat's own opinion. He was compactly petite, from the nubs of his horns to the tips of his toes, though at least he was more or less solidly built, not entirely waifish. Unfortunately that solidity came with a layer of soft padding that obscured any muscle mass he'd managed to build, fleshing out his frame into smooth curves rather than angles and planes. It didn't matter. The important thing now was to focus on keeping his bulge in, so the color didn't give him away, and convincing this highblood he knew what he was doing.
Gamzee looked him over for a moment, taking some time to appreciate what he saw. After all, Karkat wouldn't do much to prevent the initial pailing - it was his sworn duty to the empire as much as a sacred rite for the messiahs - but there was nothing saying he couldn't entirely withhold himself from Gamzee after that. And Gamzee wasn't the kind of motherfucker to force himself on someone like that, a vile act in the eyes of either of his gods. Even with a cute little body like that, hard edges worked soft by nature. A fucking miracle, he thought, as he bent over, massive arms encircling Karkat and lifting him up into another kiss as he moved to carry him to the massive bed a little deeper into his respite block.
Karkat bit back the protest at his lips that there was nothing wrong with his legs, and reached up instead, circling his arms around the highblood's neck, helping to support his own weight, as if he needed to. His lashes lowered at the kiss. It was nice, he realized with some surprise. He'd thought the whole thing would merely be routine, maybe unbearably painful, maybe stimulating, but not of any emotional consequence, certainly. Why would a highblood bother with making him feel comfortable, relaxed, making him feel attractive or wanted? He licked his lips, thankful he'd forced himself to practice keeping his bulge in his sheath so diligently, seemed like that particular degree of expertise was going to be needed after all.
It was easy to feel pity for the little wriggler - and surely he was a wriggler, even for a limeblood and a male, he seemed very small. The reasoning was really that simple. Besides, Gamzee was well under the effects of sopor, a moon or two cycled past since he'd been off ship for a battle. All the pent up expressions of tenderness seemed to flow easily into the warm conduit in his arms, and he didn't bother worrying himself about it. Had to do what was right in his heart, he thought, setting Karkat down on his bed.
It had turned out that the massive room was merely the antechamber to Gamzee's true respite block, a somehow even more massive space, even darker, the soft glow of a sopor pool at the far side of it the only light that was leaking out, casting everything in a greenish hue - not too different from one of the cold season's nights on Alternia, really. Gamzee stripped off the black tunic he was wearing, and made short work of his trousers, kicking them off more or less, unconcerned with looking impressive. He knew he looked impressive from the way Karkat was gawking at him when they met eyes again.
Karkat's breath had rushed out in a quiet noise of relief when they stepped through into the adjacent room. Even though it was bafflingly huge, it was much darker, and instead of the traitorous orange glow of the candles, that would only accentuate the red of his mutant blood, he knew the cool green hue would neutralize it, so even if he blushed it wouldn't show. He was distracted by these thoughts when the other troll started stripping off his clothes, and he stopped to stare, eyes wide. Karkat had thought he was formidable in the clothes, without them, instead of stripped and awkward like Karkat imagined he himself looked, Gamzee was a long, lean strip of sharp angles and muscle, a map of faded battle scars. Karkat swallowed. "Wow," he said, before he could stop himself. "Uh, I mean. You're…" he trailed off, not wanting to insult him when he wasn't even trying to, forcing himself to think for a second before something idiotic came out of his windflap. "You're really fucking big," he finished, lamely.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he forced himself to stop gripping into his own thighs, to roll his shoulders back, relaxed, and lean back onto his hands, shifting his own knees apart. He felt like an idiot, hyper aware that he was basically a wiggler trying to seduce a highblood that was probably a hundred sweeps old, who had probably pailed thousands of times. Well, maybe he'd laugh at him, subjuggulators were supposed to like jokes, right? His ego could endure a little humiliation, he'd had practice at that too.
But Gamzee didn't laugh. He leaned down, settling a hand on either side of Karkat so that he could talk to him a little more closely. So that he could smell him, messiahs, all he wanted to do was /smell/ him, stupid as it sounded, ridiculous as it made him feel. Karkat was soft, skin still silk smooth and practically radiant - the only things that looked like silk on Gamzee were his scars, long and silvery. Though granted, he'd had quite a few, mostly from not realizing he had a knife stabbed into his gut until he was back aboard the ship, or realizing a laser had torn through his arm until he had a head in his hands, wrenched from the shooter's body. Even his hair was coarse, falling over Karkat's shoulder, dripping down his chest. "I'm a thousand sweeps old, little brother. Got to have something to show for it, right?"
He inhaled, sharp, trying not to seem too gobsmacked by that information. Instead, to distract himself, he shifted his weight onto one hand, and lifted the other, touching Gamzee's chest, feeling the hard chitinous toughness of his skin, the way it had shifted to a much darker grey than his own, so pale in comparison. He traced along some of the long, spidery scars, across his torso to his hip, feeling his pusher beating hard in his throat. Not fear anymore, he realized, but a sort of anticipation. He kept his gaze lifted up to his, didn't look down to see the indigo's bulge was sliding out or not. He was keeping in mind what the highblood had said earlier about it being easier to run into battle without knowing the exact odds.
Gamzee let Karkat touch him a little the feeling nice - there was no touching like this aboard the holy ship of the mirthful messiahs. Even most pails that Gamzee had filled were fast, hard things before or after battles, too much adrenaline and left over hormones the urge to procreate, he supposed. But this was novel, and nice, and Gamzee only broke it to bring up one of his own paws, stroking at Karkat's curls, down the shape of his body. He kissed the boy, kissed his neck and chest, following down until he actually knelt before Karkat, hands and lips on his thighs, pulling them just a little further apart, and kissing gently, upwards from his knee.
Karkat's eyes widened, this definitely was not in the schoolfeeds. Not that he didn't know about it from unofficial channels, obviously, but…right now a highblood was kneeling between his legs,and he was too dazed to even dream of protesting. He was doubly glad he hadn't blurted everything out, this was definitely worth living for. He found his hands wrapping cautiously around the other trolls long, curved horns before he could stop himself, stroking his thumbs against the texture of them, the growth rings towards the base were thicker, more pronounced than the ones towards the yellow tips, which had been worn smooth with time. He focused on the texture beneath his fingers so that his bulge would keep behaving itself as those painted lips moved up his inner thigh and his nook throbbed desperately.
Gamzee had to mind his horns when he tipped his head forward to make the first lap at Karkat's nook. He felt the boy jerk, his hands unintentionally bringing Gamzee's horns down around his neck a little more. He gave Karkat a moment to recover before he licked him again, gathering some of what was starting to leak out of him up with his tongue. He was so /hot/ - surely hotter than a limeblood should have been, Gamzee thought, but maybe that was just the pheromones talking. His head was just about swimming with them now, and it only encouraged his tongue to start to lave into Karkat's little cunt.
He clamped his teeth and lips shut hard, but a long loud moan muffled through them anyway. "Fuck, mmmgh, that's amazing," he gasped out, when his mouth fell open to gasp for a ragged breath, a shudder running up his spine, his thighs tensed and his bare toes curling up. Gamzee's tongue was cold, long and thick, and was lapping at him in a way that sent electricity from his nook to his sheathed bulge, up to his pan, and back down again to his nook, causing it to ripple and drip, as Karkat prayed silently that the dim lighting would do the trick, and that this indigo wouldn't notice how hot he was.
It was hard not to, his tongue nearly felt like it was being burned. Gamzee hadn't been over-exaggerating, either, he found - Karkat really was tight enough that his tongue was squeezed as he started to move in deeper, nose pressed up against Karkat's abdomen as he lapped deep into his nook. He took his time about it, too, eyes closed in both concentration and enjoyment, maneuvering his tongue in ways that made the little hotblood gasp and groan and try hard not to rub his legs together while Gamzee was between them, the grip on his horns growing ever tighter.
It was absolutely fucking incredible, he thought again, dazed. Was he sure he hadn't been smashed through the skull from behind by one of those indigos escorting him through the halls? Maybe he was unconscious and this was a very detailed, very awesome dream he was having as his mutant blood pooled on the floor in some dim rainbow-splashed hallway. He couldn't even find it in himself to be disturbed by this thought, he just wanted what was happening to never stop, and his /tongue/ was...wow, it somehow was lapping and curling and delving up into his nook into places he'd not even known could be stimulated to feel so damned good. He'd always been a cynic, but he felt like he'd agree to any kind of conversion to believing in messiahs and miracles and magnets just then. He felt something building up inside him, a hot coil of pressure in his gut, and his low, constant chirr got louder, turned into an undignified yelp and a moan as his nook very unexpectedly shuddered with a hard contraction, a more substantial gush of slurry on it's heels, and he bit his lip and shivered. Had he just orgasmed with his bulge still tucked in it's sheath? That had never happened before, but apparently that was a thing that was possible. And fantastic, he mentally supplemented.
What was more, Gamzee didn't seem the least bit put off by it, even lapping up quite a bit, making sure Karkat was mostly clean - no point in going full boar with that, it wasn't as though what they were going to do wouldn't necessitate him getting messy all over again. He was careful lifting his head up to kiss at one of Karkat's dark flushed cheeks. It was strange - the slurry was a different kind of color in the darkness than he'd expected. But then, he hadn't seen much limeblood slurry in his life, so maybe he was just having the wrong expectations. "Good, little brother?" he asked, grinning a little.
"Holy fuck," he breathed out, too dazed and glowing to remember to watch his idiot mouth. "I'm pretty sure 'good' doesn't really adequately describe it." He'd let go of his horns when the highblood had removed his head from where it had been pressed between Karkat's thighs. They'd sort of hovered, uncertain in the air on either side of his massive form, then finally settled high on his chest, splayed and gentle, the pads of his fingers stroking against the indigo's skin. "Thank you," he mumbled awkwardly, blushing. He hadn't expected kindness, hadn't really expected pleasure without pain, or to be allowed to ease into things.
"Don't need much thanks, little brother. You ain't hard to get a mouthful of." Gamzee told him, stroking back Karkat's curls again, amazed every time he looked back up at the little troll how pretty he was. Damn. He was almost sorry his wrigglers probably wouldn't absorb any of them genetics. "They should be making more of you, brother. You're a right little miracle, you know?" Gamzee told him, kissing Karkat's throat, sucking into the skin a little.
That was nice, and he found his hands sliding up to twine together behind the indigo's neck, tipping his own head back to encourage him to suck into his throat more. His pusher was still pounding fast, but maybe stupidly, the praise had emboldened him a little. "What's your name?" He asked, quietly, not sure if that was inappropriate or not, but risking it anyway. The highblood was treating him like a troll, not just a fleshy vessel to dump his eggs into, maybe they could be on a hatchname basis.
"Gamzee. Makara." The last bit was an afterthought - he had to say it so /rarely/, was all. Everybody he'd ever met knew exactly whose get he was, and who had the blessing of the empire to create him. It had been a secret to him until he'd been proven in battles and in the church, more than a hundred sweeps. But by then it had been obvious anyway, if he'd cared to think about it, he mused. With Karkat looking at him like that now though, wide eyed, he remembered the surname came with a lot of baggage attached. "Don't worry your pretty head none, brother. I ain't /him/ no more than that Feferi girl is /her/."
He exhaled a little, shaky. He'd just better not fuck this up, or Kanaya was /really/ going to be in trouble, insulting the heir of the Grand Highblood by tricking him into putting his eggs in a mutant rather than a proper limeblood. Everyone had heard stories about GHB, nightmare fuel to scare wigglers with. He was inclined to believe Gamzee when he proclaimed he wasn't that, with the stories of his bloodthirsty whims and terrifying violence, the easy superiority of squashing flat members of lower castes like irritating flies. "I'm honored to meet you, Gamzee," he said, sounding not very much like himself all of a sudden, as if Kanaya had just stepped up behind him and thwacked him over the skull to remind him not to be such a mannerless imbecile in front of the blood descendent of the high priest of Alternia.
"Nah, brother. Just unlucky." he said, lids at half mast, staring at Karkat's mouth rather than his eyes. He didn't want to see that. It was what Gamzee saw on a nightly basis, what he saw when he closed his eyes, what he saw tangled up in fitful dreams in the sopor. Blood and fear were his hatchrights, but he didn't want them now. But then, he rarely did, he thought to himself, chagrinned. "Listen, do... Whatever you want, but not that. Please. I can't be up and marring a messiah given beauty like that with fear. Come on, brother."
Karkat's eyes widened even more, surprised that apparently his response hadn't been the right one. Something suspiciously close to pity, as unlikely and misplaced as that was, seized him unexpectedly and he gripped his hands back around Gamzee's horns, tipping his head back just a little, meeting his eyes, all traces of fear gone from his own, replaced with determination instead. "Okay. But I can't promise you'e not going to regret telling me I can just do whatever the hell I want." His lips twitched towards a scowl, to cover a little grin that tried to escape, and he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Gamzee's, in a slightly clumsy but enthusiastic kiss.
It was goddamn amazing was what it was, Gamzee thought, taking only a moment before he kissed back, gentle as he could make himself. He was very much stronger than Karkat was in quite a lot of ways, but he wanted to leave enough space for the little limeblood to do what he wanted. At least, for a little while. Because while kissing Karkat was nice, it became pretty obvious that he had few ideas about what to do more than that. That weren't really no concern to Gamzee, though. Little brother had to do what was all up in that miraculous pusher. "You're hotter 'n ten thousand white dwarves, you know that? All you motherfuckin limebloods give a motherfucker fever like this?"
"I don't know, I've never fucked a limeblood," he murmured against Gamzee's mouth, biting into his lower lip and tugging a little. His teeth were pointed but rather blunt, so they just scraped against the skin without piercing, just an impulsive enticement. His too-soft hands ran down the long, hard muscled stretch of Gamzee's torso, pausing at his abdomen for just a moment before sliding them lower, tracing his fingertips against the top of his sheath as they kissed, then finally down against his bulge. His mouth had been pressed back up against his, but he couldn't help but gasp as his fingers found and wrapped around the girth of Gamzee's bulge. With both hands wrapped around, his fingers barely touched. I mean, sure he had kind of short, stubby fingers, but damn.
He didn't have the kind that retracted, out on display for the whole world to see when he was undressed. Not that he would have been much different even if it were retractable, his nook was swollen up just from pleasuring the little warmblood, much less the idea of parenting a grub or two - or three, or more... gods he hoped not, though of course, that was always up to the messiahs, wasn't it - was getting him all worked up. "And I only get bigger as I molt. Pretty fucked up, right?"
"If by fucked up you mean incredibly hot, yeah. I think my nook just decided entirely without my conscious input that it absolutely needs as much of this up in it as it can possibly take. Maybe as much as it can take, then plus a couple of inches on top of that." He realized he was babbling, but it was also all true, as much as whatever shred of decency left in him was shocked and appalled by the sudden clarity of his own messed up desires.
"If you still want me after today, we'll fix you with all you can take." Gamzee promised him after a good laugh. He was just so earnest about it, and it made him wish he'd met Karkat when he was younger, when he had... Wished all his nights and days, really, for someone like him. Someone who wasn't holding a knife to his throat in his mind. He was told he would feel protective of the wriggler when the eggs had taken, but damn, he felt it /now/, like he wanted to tattoo his name across the kid's damn nook, and his pusher too. Instead, he wriggled his bulge in Karkat's hands, twining the tip around his wrist. "First I think I'm supposed to fix you up with some eggs, though..."
Karkat squeezed both his hands around his bulge, rubbing his palms and fingers against the thick mass of it, stroking and tugging and petting, liking the way it curled around his wrist, liking the slick texture of it against his palms, with all it's nubs and ridges and bumps, so unlike his own little bulge, which he'd always thought was kind of thick for his size, but mostly smooth, tapered like a tongue. He swallowed and nodded, moving one hand up to Gamzee's bone bulge, rubbing his fingertips at the little slit there, then applying pressure where he'd learned to, to help coax his ovipositor out. "All right, it's a deal then." He was ready, he had to be ready. Besides, just about anything that would fill up his nook sounded like an awesome idea, just then.
Admittedly, even Gamzee was a little curious about his ovipositor. It was one of those things that every troll /had/, in the way that every troll had a fifth filtration sac, or those gnarly little bumps on the back of their tongue - something evolutionary and mostly uneeded by the general populous, who would have heirs through the mother grubs, back on the homeworld. It was really only those who were considered important enough, or those who were rich enough, who got direct heirs, with a traceable lineage. The Grand Highblood had had many, but most had died from intentional murders, or just the wear and tear of juggalo life, with too many harsh lessons and next to no comforts. And now Gamzee would probably have many, and many would probably die before one survived, too. But he tried not to think of that as Karkat's sweet touch worked him, coaxing his ovipositor out of him, something thin and rigid, more robotic looking than he'd expected.
Karkat realized how weird this might be for a troll that hadn't been schoolfed for a whole sweep about troll ovipositors and the biological mating process. It would have been unspeakably weird to him before all of that, but now it was only just as he expected it to be. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about this part, getting himself mentally prepared, and now, surprisingly, he was. The ovipositor was much more slender than Gamzee's bulge, but longer than the depth of his own nook. He knew it was supposed to fit through his seedflap, and he thought it would.
He shifted on the edge of the bed, drawing his feet up to perch on the edge, beside his glutes, his knees spread open as he wrapped one hand around Gamzee's hip, pulling him closer and guiding the tip of his long appendage into his nook, which was very, very slick with his own arousal. Once the tip was in, he let out a little breath, and leaned back flat onto his back on the soft platfotm, reaching out for Gamzee's hips, and pulling him closer, slowly, the ovipositor sliding easily enough through his nook until it bumped against his seedflap, which elicited a little low groan of pleasure from him. It rippled and flexed, and carefully, he drew Gamzee closer another inch, exhaling slowly and forcing that very sensitive seal of flesh to relax, to let the girth of his ovipositor penetrate past it, a very strange, very intense sensation.
Gamzee went as slow as he possibly could - his bulge, he always had some idea of what was happening, but the ovipositor only seemed to be sensitive near the very tip and on the inside - he could feel the pressure from Karkat's nook as it fluttered a little, but not much else. Eventually, they got it in, though, and Gamzee sighed a little, kissing Karkat again, a little show of praise. His own thighs were spread to either side of the younger troll's body, keeping some leverage, but his hands were stroking his little lover's forehead, his arm, reveling in the soft closeness between them.
Karkat exhaled, shaky, but then smiled, stroking his fingers up Gamzee's chest, against his throat, tracing his jaw, touching the edges of his ears, not wanting to rub his fingers against the paint on his face too much, in case it smudged. "That's nice," he murmured, meaning all of it, and let his lashes lower, sighing, relaxing his body in preparation for being stretched around Gamzee's eggs, a little nervous and a little excited both.
"Is it? I don't motherfuckin know. We've found the exclusive thing you got way more life experience with, little brother." Gamzee told him, though... Something certainly was... /Happening/. His body was doing something, a strange contraction of the muscles in his lower abdomen, which was weird. Normally, shed eggs shriveled up inside of a troll, and just flushed out through the nook with their heat cycle. But this was an alien feeling, his muscles not working to push them down but forward, and certainly not the small little things that could be easily flushed out a load gaper and forgotten.
His hands moved on the larger troll, stroking from his hips down his thighs, just to give himself something to do other than lay splayed out on his back, waiting. "Well I don't know about life experience, but they showed me a truly exhaustive number of schoolfeeds on this." He informed Gamzee with a little dry chuckle. When he felt the swell of the first egg press up against his nook, he bit his lip, took a deep breath, and willed his nook to stay relaxed. The ovipositor inside of him swelled more and more, and when he was sure that had to be the widest point, it stretched him even /more/ and despite how hard he was biting into his lip, a little muffled yelp of pain escaped him, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
Truthfully, Gamzee had sort of been caught up in the sensation of the egg inside of him, too. The feeling inside the damn ovipositor was ten times what he felt near the tip, and he could feel every contour of that egg - along with the pressure of Karkat's nook trying to take it. But the noise he made snapped Gamzee out of it, and he realized that his egg, while desperately trying to press forward, wasn't getting very far, Karkat's body starting to tense at the pain. "Oh, shit. Fuck." he hissed, moving himself back maybe a little too quickly. Whatever fucking mechanism controlled his damn bone bulge didn't like that, and he hissed as his egg rolled out, over the bed, useless, abdomen still contracting, ready to pass another, and soon. "Fuck. Karkat, I'm... Are you okay?"
Another low sound escaped him, a little more panicked as Gamzee pulled back. On the one hand, relief had rushed through him, his throbbing, stretched nook finally free of that awful pressure, but on the other hand, it meant he'd failed. The relief was very short lived. "No," he choked out, eyes widening a little. "Don't pull out, please." He begged him, grabbing onto his hips again, and pressing his nook back onto his ovipositor with a wriggle and a thrust of his hips, gasping when it penetrated through his seedflap again. "Listen, it doesn't matter if it hurts me. I have to. You have to. If it tears me open I'll heal, but if I can't do it, they'll cull me."
It made the back of Gamzee's throat catch, which was a damn sight more than most everything he'd dealt with in the past nine hundred sweeps. He'd become numb to most suffering, but for some reason, this tiny little limeblood begging for his life made him suffer, and intensely. But he knew that Karkat's fears were well founded - useless limebloods mysteriously died on their voyages back to the central planet, and Gamzee couldn't defend him if he wasn't worth something in objective terms; juggalos didn't do love for love's sake, and especially not aboard the flagship. His fingers touched Karkat's temple. "I can twist your reality." he murmured. "I promise it don't scramble your pan none, if I don't want to hurt you. But it can... Make you numb. To that, I mean..."
Karkat swallowed, and nodded. He didn't have much choice except to trust Gamzee, and he'd been nothing but inexplicably kind to him thusfar. He didn't want it to hurt, and he didn't want it to seem like it hurt, since that was obviously distressing the indigoblood. He locked his gaze up on his, eyes widening as the purple glow in his eyes intensified, caught mesmerized by it, like a antlerbeast in a high beam.
He could have torn up Karkat's mind right then; he felt it deep in his gut, sure as any other instinct. He could have stripped him bare of personality, made him into a mindless, pretty pailing machine that lived for nothing but pleasing him. But Gamzee didn't; the thought of hurting Karkat hurt /him/, in a very strange but very real way. So he reached into him gently, eyes aglow, and shifted his perception - let him transfer pain to pleasure, let him experience intensity in one key only as Gamzee felt his ovipositor stretch around another egg, making him groan low in his throat.
Karkat's eyes were still glossy with unshed tears, but his expression shifted, all the tension leaving his face, and body too, as he fell back flat, still looking up at Gamzee but limp as a doll, lips parting to draw in a slow breath. The discomfort in his nook had disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving it warm and tingling, along with every inch of his skin everywhere else. His muscles were so relaxed, and he could feel his nook pulse eagerly. When the next egg started to stretch him, he experienced it as a burst of warmth, coiling pleasure in his gut and he moaned, the sound fading into a pleased chirr as he reached out to grab ahold of Gamzee wherever he could reach him, using him for leverage as he eagerly thrust down against him.
The way his nook tore at the edges was just another sweet pleasure, sharp instead of blunt, like tangy lemon candy instead of sugary toffee. He could feel blood leak out of him, but that felt good too, and he couldn't remember why it would matter. When the egg pressed up through his nook, stretching him there more than he'd ever been stretched, more than he was meant to be, he only keened for more, hips shifting in little needy jerking motions, milking the solid, smooth shape through his nook, until it was up against his seedflap. He could feel it resist the girth of it and he whined, impatient.
Gamzee made a thousand and a thousand more promises to himself, to Karkat, quietly: he would fix him up with medigel, he would threaten and cajole whoever he had to for pain killers that weren't just sopor stuffed through his gob, he would never ever have another brood again, never hurt Karkat or any small, sweet thing like him if he had a chance. His stomach churned as he felt the seedflap tear around his egg, the pop of it sinking into Karkat's body something that made Gamzee shiver and hiss. He was shaking a little, too, not expecting this to be so emotional for him, not expecting that the blissed out cries of the little limeblood would make him feel so vicious and /vile/, a heretic desecrating a holy altar.
When the skin finally tore, and the egg passed through his flap, into his incubation sac, he sighed contentedly, chirring again, and seeming entirely oblivious to any stormy thoughts Gamzee was having. This was right, his body told him, he'd done what he was supposed to do, and it felt so good. The smooth shape of the egg settled into him, a solid weight in his abdomen, not uncomfortable at all, just noticeable. He smoothed his fingers over his own abdomen, as if he could feel it from the outside. "More," he murmured to Gamzee, breathy and totally separated from his own trollish propriety, a creature composed entirely of a biological imperative, the overpowering surge of pheromones mixing with the thick syrup of Gamzee's chucklevoodoos to make him both pliant and needy.
"...Yeah. Okay." he murmured to Karkat, keeping his gaze focused on that pretty face, on how hotly it was flushed. He kept a mind to that, made that his entire world, like the next egg pressing out of his body wasn't, in fact, two in close issue, making a short trip through Gamzee's body and into Karkat's, making his facial features twist in ecstasy that Gamzee was trying hard to pretend was well deserved.
He gurgled a pleased noise, something nearly feral as his thick lashes fluttered, gasping and squeezing his hands against Gamzee's shoulders as the eggs pressed through into him, pure heat rippling through his nook and seedflap, a sweet ache that left him wanting more, when they were settled inside of him. He'd stopped rocking his hips so insistently, but he spread his knees open even wider instead, arching his back a little to feel his ovipositor shift inside of him just a fraction deeper.
Gamzee was almost tempted to let go of his mind; he wanted Karkat back, he wanted his little brother who could be funny and sweet and sour all at the same time. But he had learned a long time ago that it mattered very little in the grand scheme of things what he wanted. What mattered far more were the things he had to /do/, and he grit his teeth and did this, two more eggs pressing out through his ovipositor before it started to retract all on its own, seemingly done, leaving Gamzee to curl up over Karkat for a moment, his long curling hair veiling both their faces in the darkened room, even for just a little while.
The rest as was easy and sweet as that second egg had been, and he sighed, content, when he felt the ovipositor slide back out of him. He leaned up, into the dark curtain of Gamzee's hair, making a little giddy noise that was almost a laugh, and rubbed his face up against his, scenting him, forgetting about his paint entirely. He was a creature made of pailing instinct now, not logic.
He smelled so good, and he sounded so sweet, and Gamzee had never in his life felt so abhorrent. But he had to do it, and so he held Karkat's head nestled against one hand as his bulge slid between the little limeblood's legs, past the blood and the genetic material leaking out of him. His other hand held Karkat's hips back, determined not to give him any more of his bulge than his body would naturally take. Determined not to tear him up in some other way, too.
He kept rubbing up against him, chirring and kissing and licking at his skin, sighing when his bulge slid into him, and shifting up against it, only to have Gamzee's hand hold him down. He didn't mind this though, and he just squeezed his thighs against his hips, his tingling, stretched nook working the best it was able to contract down around his bulge, to milk out the slurry that his body instinctively knew those eggs needed.
It was easier than Gamzee had thought it would be; he'd thought that his dread and guilt would kill everything, but he was wrong. The pheromones were still going strong, and the closer he was to Karkat, and the longer they were kissing, and the more his bulge got soaked in the genetic material of Karkat's nook, the more that his body reacted. It didn't take long at all for his bulge to knot up, the tip of it thrashing around in Karkat before spilling a good bit deep inside of him - though, admittedly, at least half of it painted the outside of him, too.
Karkat didn't entirely have the presence of mind to be grateful for the overflow of Gamzee's slurry, mixing with and overwhelming his own color until it was entirely lost in the subjuggulator's purple hue, even if the lights were to snap on at full brightness now, there probably wouldn't be any trace of red. He groaned when he drew out, letting his eyes flutter closed, letting his hands fall back down to smooth over his own abdomen, visibly swollen from the sheer volume of slurry, from the big smooth eggs that were now nestled inside of him. His torn seedflap was swelling up, keeping in the bulk of the slurry as the tears stopped bleeding so much, clotting as Gamzee's bulge withdrew and his nook closed up again.
Very gently, Gamzee brushed off what he could of the mess, wiping his hand on the sheets of the resting platform before he sank back off of it. Karkat was still beautiful, and Gamzee was still determined to protect him, and he picked the little limeblood up off of the bed, intent on carrying him to the other side of the room, into the sopor. You know. As sure as he was certain he hadn't accidentally ruined everything, spoiled the most beautiful miracle that had ever occurred in his miserable life. Slowly, he pulled his grip off of Karkat's mind, watching him with an uneasy gaze, hoping the residual pleasure of being filled would cancel out the pain for now.
He came to with a deep, quick breath, like surfacing from a dream, or breaking through the surface of a pool of water after holding his breath. His eyes widened and he stared at Gamzee, as if he'd only just now really registered the full extent of what had happened. He let out a tight hiss, as his nook clenched up in a ripple, reactionary, and the pain that had been registering as a dull, pleasant throb, seized ahold of his insides. He took another deep breath and willed himself past that, let the sopor take the edge off of his senses. "We did it," he said, a little shakily, then laughed. Though it was a coarse sound, it was genuine, too, relieved, and he leaned forward to press his forehead into Gamzee's shoulder. "SWEET mother grub's oozing vestigal third oral sphincter, my nook feels like it's been scrubbed out with maximum grit sandpaper, set on fire, and then stabbed a couple of times with a full sized culling fork for good measure. Stick a pronged utensil in me and turn me over, I think I'm done. Fuck, did I just say all that out loud? Well while I'm already digging this hole into a bottomless well, did you know your eggs are the same size as my fucking useless braincase? Am I babbling, because you can just drown me in the sopor any time you want, really, just shove me in and hold me down until I stop thrashing and welcome the sweet oblivion of death."
"I'm sorry." Gamzee told him, a little shell shocked, not quite knowing how to respond. Normally, he'd laugh, but he was actually worried about Karkat. That this was a reaction to what they'd done, that despite it being his duty it wasn't what he'd wanted, and now he was terrified. "You should have been getting some blueblood's brood. You won't have to do it again, I won't touch you -" he said, catching himself on a bad jag.
"Take that back right now, then clamp your chitinous windflap down on anything even distantly resembling some sort of self depricating remark and choke it the fuck down your nutrition chute. What you did was fucking incredible, I feel like a goddamn superhero right now. I mean, yes, a superhero whose nook is on fire and abraded in a million places, but that's a temporary setback here, so let's keep our occulars on the big picture." He lifted his head, staring at Gamzee, his hands gripped hard against his shoulders. Filth might be gushing out of his mouth like a hopelessly backed up load gaper, but his gaze was intense, utter devotion. "The minute I heal back up I'm going at your bulge again, and we're going to mark my stopping point in grape flavored magic marker on that gorgeous monster, and by the time these eggs are ready to go you're going to have a ladder of purple lines notched up your fuck tentacle that would make any lusus proud. I don't want some goddamn blueblood, I want you." He took a ragged breath after this speech, and slid his hands up against Gamzee's face, leaning up and kissing him hard, as if he was driving his point home with the pressure of his mouth against the other troll's.
It took a couple rounds for Gamzee's pan to stop bashing itself up against the very prickly cage of his upbringing long enough to get Karkat's point through to him. By then he was being kissed, and there was no reaction his body had that wasn't going to be kissing Karkat right back, which admittedly gave him a little more time to sort his own personal bullshit. If he hadn't had crying drummed out of him when he was three sweeps old, he just might have done; but he had, so he didn't, his massive arms seizing Karkat and drawing him close, almost tight enough to be crushing, but just short. "Medigel will have you patched up in no time, little brother. I'll put it on with my damn tongue if I have to." he murmured, kissing the sopor-sticky pieces of Karkat's curls.
"Normally I would protest that as impractical, but considering the circumstances, yes: I decree that your tongue up my nook is the only acceptable way to speed along this healing process." He grinned, stupidly, and rubbed his jaw up against Gamzee's, rubbing his hands against the base of his long horns. Then he wheezed a little, laughing hoarsely, as Gamzee squeezed his arms around him, feeling the drowsy pull of the sopor on his senses. "Promise me…" he remembered, right on the edge of falling asleep. "Promise me you'll wake me up before you take me out of the sopor…"
It was an odd request, but Gamzee was somewhat used to oddities. The fact that his little miracle brother should have his own merely proved, to him, how much he was meant to be there, how serendipitous this all was, after all. "Alright brother." he told Karkat, kissing him a last time as he watched the other troll let go into the high concentration sopor, much higher than what it was for average trolls. He curled himself around Karkat, and for once, fell into a deep, unbothered sleep.