Archive of Our Own ^beta

They really need to talk.

Karkat knows that they do. The issue lingers in the air between them even now, when they're just laying on Dave's copulation platform and watching a movie on Karkat's husktop. (He doesn't even remember what movie he picked, too lost in his thoughts to remember a single detail after he settled in to watch.)

Dave has been annoyingly sweet and patient about the whole thing, but he's not as unaffected as he likes to pretend. He's been uncharacteristically quiet tonight, even though normally Karkat can't get him to shut up when a movie is on. Maybe Karkat is being paranoid, but it seems like Dave has been more quiet in general, too. Less prone to ridiculous jokes and less likely to initiate contact and mostly answering in short phrases rather than long, winding metaphors.

(Or maybe Dave is just sick of waiting. Maybe he regrets "all-quadrant dating" all together. Maybe he's been spending more time with the others because Karkat is just too much work for him.)

"Hey." Dave nudges him, and Karkat — barely managing not to jump — stirs from where he's been leaning his head on Dave's shoulder. "What're you thinking about?"

The knot of anxiety in Karkat's stomach only grows tighter and he wants to vomit. He forces himself to pay attention to the screen instead, his claws digging holes in Dave's sheets where he's gripping them. "How pan-rotted this movie is."

Dave hums noncommittally, neither a good nor a bad sound. Karkat's lungs are too tight. "I dunno, it doesn't seem any dumber than every other romcom we've ever watched," he says, and his voice holds none of the joking fondness that it usually does. It's flat, like he's just stating a boring fact.

The conversation isn't helping, but Karkat isn't sure how well it will go over if he stops replying in the middle of it. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth, yet Karkat manages to force the words out. "It's a human romcom, which makes it automatically inferior. Because humans lack quadrants or even the ability to date half of their species, the "drama" — if you want to insult a whole genre of film and literature by calling it that — in almost all of these movies relies entirely on miscommunication." As if on cue, the actress on screen begins to sob profusely over a misunderstood text message. Karkat doesn't have the energy to scoff and roll his eyes like he normally would. Actually, he feels strangely sympathetic towards the poor protagonist. "This movie would be ten minutes long at the most if the protagonists had just spoken to each other like adults, rather than dragging out these ridiculous theatrics and chasing each other in circles like a couple of three-legged wrigglers."

"Haha, yeah." Dave gives a halfhearted chuckle. "Miscommunication is for losers." There's more he wants to say, Karkat can tell, and yet Dave isn't, for reasons that Karkat can only guess at.

It's been like this for weeks and it's driving Karkat crazy. He wants to ask — to demand — but he bites his lip instead as the instinctive urge not to push, not to rock the boat, wins out.

(What if he presses too hard and Dave decides that he's had enough?)

"Definitely," Karkat murmurs in agreement, and that's that. He's prepared for them to settle back into silence, to wait out the rest of the movie so that he can retreat back to his block and wallow in what a failure he is, when Dave opens his mouth.

"So, uh—" Dave gives a fake, awkward little cough as he shifts in discomfort. "If we both agree on that, how come you're not talking to me?"

Karkat winces, recoiling as if burned. He finds himself putting space between them, moving away before he even makes the conscious decision to do so. "I— That's not—" He bites his lip to keep from stuttering and embarrassing himself further. He forcibly taps down on the mix of embarrassment, frustration, and sadness that he feels, smoothing out his expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The only shift in Dave's face is one deliberately arched eyebrow above the rim of his shades. "Really?" Is all he says, and he doesn't even sound angry, but Karkat—

He sighs, shoulders sagging. Karkat looks down at the blankets, because it's easier than looking Dave in the eye. "...You noticed?" He settles on asking.

Dave huffs. It's barely audible over the sound of the movie still playing, but it feels like Karkat's entire world is shaking on its foundations. He hates how badly he's reacting. Nothing has even been said yet, and he's already breathing shallowly and trying his best not to vomit.

"Of course I noticed. It's kinda hard not to when you've been skittering around me like a frightened kitten left out in the rain for weeks," Dave complains, loudly, and yet—

His tone isn't annoyed or angry. He sounds more concerned than anything else, his mouth pinched tight and his eyebrows furrowed. Karkat finds himself shrinking away in preparation for a lecture and catches himself when he realizes that one isn't coming. And he takes a moment to be surprised again by his own reactions.

Before, if one of his friends bitched at him about his behavior, Karkat's knee-jerk response was to bitch back. He didn't avoid it, he didn't cower, and he certainly didn't cry (until he was alone and could safely do so where no one would see his hideous, candy-red dismay fluid).

When did Dave become so important to him? (When did Karkat become so pathetic?)

He's being such a coward about this. But Karkat doesn't want to be having this conversation at all, and he's past the point where he can deny how terrified he is. He wants to go back to watching the movie, leaning against Dave and curled up in his cape, and stay that way until they both grow old and die. He doesn't want anything to change — not when things between them had finally settled down. They'd worked their shit out, they talked and settled uneasily into a blend of quadrants and human dating, and they've spent so long getting used to each other's insecurities and needs and boundaries, and it had been so good. It'd been so easy.

Karkat wishes that they'd never tried to have sex at all. He wished that his own stubbornness hadn't pushed him to keep trying after what an unmitigated disaster their first time was.

Still, Karkat can't keep himself from sounding bitter when he says, "Considering all the time you've been spending with Terezi and Rose, I'm surprised that you had enough seconds left in the day to devote to worrying about a non-issue."

When their friendship was a tentative, fragile thing, a comment like that — laced with barbs and acid — would have been enough to get Dave bristling, his cool-dude façade crumbling as he took the bait. Now, all Karkat's words do is cause Dave's frown to deepen.

"Okay," he sighs to himself. "I asked you to communicate, I guess it's only fair that I do, too." Dave presses his hands together like he's praying for patience and says, very deliberately, "I assumed that you wanted some space after…" He waves vaguely off to one side, "...what happened, so I was giving it to you. You could've asked me to stick around more often if that was bothering you."

It's unfair that Dave is being reasonable when all Karkat wants to do is be angry. Anger is familiar, it's safe. Talking it out is new and risky and it could so easily backfire. Karkat is self-aware enough to know that being an asshole will eventually push Dave — and everyone else — away, but at least he'll be able to say that he did so deliberately. That's better than trying his best and still failing; having to admit that he could do everything right and still lose those he loves most because he's fundamentally an unlovable person.

Karkat swallows the heavy lump in his throat and knows with a certainty that shakes the very core of his being that Dave deserves better than him.

"You could have asked if I wanted space instead of assuming and making it worse," Karkat bites back. He wants so badly to shut up, to apologize to Dave for being difficult and kiss him until his frown smooths out, but it's like he doesn't have control of his mouth. "Stop playing this useless-ass game and admit it already, Strider — you want to break-up with me. That's why you've been avoiding me, and talking about me behind my back, and scrounging for every modicum of personal space that you can get. Just get it over with and say it." His eyes ache with building dismay fluid, but Karkat has a lifetime of teaching himself to choke them down, so they don't show, even as Dave's scowl turns blurry and the only definitive feature of his face is his blank shades.

"Is that what you think?" Dave asks, and there's that anger Karkat was expecting the first time, mixed in with disbelief and frustration. "Seriously? We've been fucking inseparable since I got on this godforsaken rock, and yet, your opinion of me is so low that you think I'd do that to you?" He runs a hand through his hair, digging his fingers in like he'll only be able to calm down once he's ripped his hair out. "Fuck, Karkat. What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" Karkat snaps finally, throwing his hands up in frustration. He can feel himself getting far too worked up over this, and it's so familiar, this sharp sensation of failure. His self-fulfilling prophecy has come back to bite him in the ass again, and it's so unfair that even when things are going so well, Karkat can't help but ruin it. "I've been trying to figure that out my entire useless life! At first, I was naïve enough to believe that it was only my shitty blood color, but no matter how much time passed, I could only ever manage to become interested in the most pathetic hobbies known to trollkind, and my skills handling any sort of weapon were so far from anything even approaching "decent" that I'd be more likely to fucking impale myself on my sickles before accidentally waving so much as a mildly-threatening gesture towards an enemy." Dave opens his mouth to say something — perhaps to agree, perhaps to interrupt — but Karkat swallows a lungful of air and keeps talking right over him. "But I couldn't be satisfied with just being worthless! Oh, no, of course not. I had to actively ruin my own life and the lives of those I claim to care about just by being myself. And the best part is that I don't have a single goddamn clue why!" Karkat laughs, but it's far from a pleasant sound. His vision goes red-tinted as dismay fluid builds up in his anguish bladder and refuses to fall. "It's like I can't help myself. I must get off on my own misery — I'm not satisfied unless I'm jerking my bulge to whatever relationship I've managed to ruin on any given day. Even when I fucking know what I'm doing, I can't stop the words I know I shouldn't say. I wish I knew what was wrong with me, I would love to fix myself and perhaps even one day approach a facsimile of a person who's not excruciatingly retarded, and yet—!"

"Karkat!" Dave finally reaches his limit and slaps a hand over Karkat's mouth, forcibly stopping his tirade dead in its tracks. "Jesus fucking Christ, just shut up!"

Immediately, Karkat tries to bite down. The angle doesn't work with his fangs at all, so he opens his mouth wider — Karkat has half-a-mind to swallow Dave's hand whole.

"For fuck's sake— Karkat—" Dave curses as he leans in, placing both hands over Karkat's mouth now.

He reaches up to grab Dave's wrists and pry his hands off, and Dave gets to his knees on the copulation platform, kneeling over him. Using his body weight, Dave tries pushing Karkat down against the mattress, and it's a pointless exercise to resist when Dave has always been bigger and taller and far-and-away the better fighter, but Karkat struggles anyway, because that's all he knows how to do. He kicks out his feet and claws at Dave's stupid God Tier outfit, and he's so distracted trying to get up that he doesn't realize his mouth is uncovered until Dave grabs both of his wrists and pins them down next to Karkat's head, straddling him.

"You are such a detestable asshole!" Karkat gnashes his fangs in frustration. "Let me up! I wasn't done talking! Fuck you, and your smug self-importance, Strider, I said I wasn't done—!"

Dave doesn't have a third hand to muffle Karkat with, so he leans down and forces their lips together. Karkat tries half-heartedly to buck him off, but he quickly stops when he realizes that he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to yell at Dave or fight with him or ever stop kissing him, so why is he always so determined to try?

Relaxing is impossible, but Karkat tries his best anyway. He returns the kiss, licking lightly at Dave's chapped lips. It feels like they could sink into each other, if Karkat weren't so rigid. Dave is loose on top of him, attempting to mould himself to Karkat's body, and it feels like such a waste of time when Dave is soft and flexible and patient, and Karkat is nothing but borders and edges and thorns.

He's spent so long building his walls and sharpening his defenses and cultivating his brambles that to let go of them feels like admitting defeat. Karkat has no idea what he's doing — he has no idea how to be close to Dave without hurting him — so he tries to do nothing at all. His mouth goes pliant and slack-jawed, and he lets Dave push his probing tongue past his lips, pressing into all of the soft parts of Karkat's mouth like his fangs don't even register. It isn't until Karkat shudders and whines that Dave finally pulls back, darting his tongue out to swipe at the thin strand of spit connecting their mouths.

"Are you good now?" Dave asks, his voice hard but his expression wavering. "Are you nice and fucking relaxed? Ready to shut your mouth and open your ears? The self-hatred train has left the station and blew up in a head-on collision a few miles down the track. It's not coming back, Karkat, so you're gonna have to find something to talk about that's not complete and utter bullshit."

"Dave…" Karkat has no idea how to say everything that's crammed into his head. He's sure that if he managed to get even a fraction of his thoughts out coherently, Dave would never want to look at him again. "Why are you wasting your time on me?" Is what Karkat eventually asks, and he hates, hates, hates how small his voice is.

"Shh!" Dave replies. Being shushed while they're both still red-faced and panting from that kiss nearly gives Karkat whiplash. "What did I say about stupid nonsense? Shush."

Karkat flushes from his neck to the tips of his ears as he shudders. Even as Karkat blushes, he feels terror rise up not far behind. On Alternia, a flush to his face was as good as a death sentence. No one would see that brilliant tint and mistake him for a rustblood. "Dave," he tries again, and this time it comes out more as a whine.

"Shush. Be quiet. Deep breaths, okay? Shoosh." Dave has to let go of Karkat's wrists in order to pap him, but that's okay because Karkat isn't going anywhere.

He still doesn't relax, but it's damn close. As Dave continues to gently pap Karkat's cheek, stroking a purposeful path from his temple to his jaw and then reaching up to massage his horn beds, Karkat feels warmth trickle down his spine. His fingers and toes begin to tingle pleasantly and he lets out a low, gravely purr. Even if he wanted to, Karkat would be hard-pressed to move.

"You know this is fucking obscene," Karkat protests weakly, staring up at Dave through his lashes as he struggles to keep his eyes open. "Shoosh-papping me right after kissing me? You're a freak, Strider."

Dave arches an eyebrow, amused. It's so nice to see that he's not angry, and that relaxes Karkat more than Dave's touches do. "Yeah? Well, who's freakier — me, or the kinky motherfucker getting off on it?"

The mention of "getting off" makes Karkat wince, and his gastric sac clenches uncomfortably as the smile falls off of Dave's face. Karkat desperately wants to put it back. He wants Dave to get off of him, because having this conversation while being straddled isn't making the whole shitshow any less awkward.

"I know I was being kinda pushy," Dave says, apologetic, like he's the one who has done something wrong, "but we don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to." Even with his shades on, Karkat can tell that Dave is avoiding making eye contact. Why does this have to be so hard? "I just— I dunno, it seemed like something that's been on your mind, and if you wanna talk, I'm right here. You know that I— I mean, I don't mind if you… Like, don't want to talk or try again. We can just go back to the movie if that's easier. I think this is the scene where the cliché misunderstanding finally gets resolved, and I know that's always your favorite part—"

"Shush, Dave. You're working yourself up," Karkat murmurs, and Dave obediently shuts his mouth.

He reaches up to cup Dave's face, though he knows it doesn't do anything for humans. At the very least, Dave has said before that he likes the physical contact, so Karkat is mindful of his claws as he scratches along Dave's hairline and traces his jaw. Dave tilts his head to indicate where he wants to be touched, and Karkat marvels — not for the first time — at just how soft Dave is, how thin his skin is, and he traces the prominent vein down Dave's neck with a single claw and shudders at the trust that Dave is showing him.

His nook aches, but any arousal that Karkat feels is swiftly smothered by shame. He wants so badly to show Dave how beautiful he is, to make him feel good, to prove that the trust he has isn't misplaced, and it rips his blood pusher to pieces to know that he can't.

"Do you mean that?" Karkat asks, hating how desperate for reassurance he sounds — not that it's inaccurate.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I did." Dave nods seriously. "We can definitely finish this awful movie if you want."

Karkat isn't sure if he wants to roll his eyes or smile. He settles on a sigh. "Dave. You know that's not what I was asking."

If he were feeling cruel, Karkat could have called Dave out on avoiding the subject after bringing up "communication," and called him a hypocrite or worse. But unlike Karkat, who will resort to physically lashing out before he shares a single intimate thought, Dave doesn't cling to his stubbornness like a second skin. (Dave has other terrible traits that he hides behind.)

Dave's expression doesn't change, but his voice is soft when he says, "I know. And, yeah, I meant it. We don't have to talk. We don't have to do anything at all." He pauses, then adds with a reassuring little smile, "I won't be disappointed if you don't want to have sex."

"But I want to have sex," Karkat protests. Actually saying it feels like such a tremendous task that he's surprised he managed it. He can see the confusion on Dave's face, and embarrassment creeps up his neck and cheeks. He squirms uncomfortably underneath Dave. "Can you get off of me?"

Slowly, Dave does, eyeing Karkat like he's preparing to grab him again if he tries to run off. It does nothing to ease Karkat's paranoia, but he doesn't blame Dave. Running is still tempting, but Karkat is so tired. He's tired of always cowering and hiding and relying on people more capable than him to keep his miserable existence alive just a bit longer. Maybe he's a useless fighter, and maybe he has no talent in any of his hobbies, and maybe he's a useless leader, too. But for some unfathomable reason, Dave finds worth in him as a partner. The least Karkat can do is his best not to fuck it up.

"I want to have sex," Karkat reaffirms once he's sitting up. He sounds more sure than he feels. "I'm just— Ugh, I'm not sure what the problem is. I like when we're kissing and…" He gestures vaguely between them, avoiding eye-contact. "But every time we start pushing towards more, I shut down. I wish I knew why, Dave, believe me. It's infuriating that I'm so worthless that I can't even get my bulge out. If I somehow didn't get culled on Alternia just for the audacity I have to exist, then I'd definitely be culled when drone season came around and I was entirely unable to perform. What sort of dumbass fucking piss-poor excuse for a problem is this? Sex isn't difficult!" Karkat shouts, gripping his hair like he's going to pull it out.

"Well, uh— I mean… Maybe it is?" Dave rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "What would we know about it, y'know? We're just two dudes who've never fondled anyone except themselves. I don't know how sexual exploration works on Alternia, but humans only really start at thirteen most of the time, I think. I didn't get very far down that rabbit hole before Earth…" He mimes an explosion with one hand and makes a "whoosh" noise. "So maybe sex is difficult and no one ever told us."

Some part of what Dave is saying makes sense, but Karkat is still stubborn enough to shake his head. "Maybe that's how it worked on your putrid planet, where you have all the time and freedom you want to wait until you're comfortable, but sex on Alternia has to be easy. Did you miss everything I've said about us literally being fucking culled on the spot if we can't perform for the drones?"

"No, bro, I think you're missing the point." It comes out more as a question than a statement, and Dave picks at his pants with one finger the way he does when he's trying not to fidget. "That's reproduction, which is easy — you just pump your dick while thinking about big tits and fat asses and aim for the nearest cleaning utensil. I'm talking about sex." When Karkat only continues to stare blankly, Dave turns red. "You know, um…" He ducks his head and mutters, so quiet that Karkat barely hears him, "Making love. Or whatever."

Oh.

Karkat's mouth falls open, but no words come out. He's certain that his face is glowing, based on the way his cheeks burn, and he has no idea how to react to this.

He knows enough from human movies by this point to understand what Dave is saying. On Alternia, there's little difference between "sex" and "reproduction" except for what season it happens in. Your matesprit is gentle with you, and your kismesis is rough, and that's all there is to it. There's more nuance to it for humans, as far as Karkat can tell: "fucking," "having sex," and "making love" all have very different connotations.

And Dave just used the sweetest, most vulnerable one. He used the word love.

Somehow, Karkat finds the courage to reach over and take hold of Dave's hand before he runs off out of nervousness. He tries for a smile, but can't quite manage it. His mouth is too dry; his pulse is beating too rapidly.

"I… I'd like that," Karkat murmurs.

The shadows of Dave's eyes widen behind his shades. "Really?"

Rather than answer, Karkat reaches up with his free hand towards Dave's face. His movements are slow and deliberate, and Karkat's fingers linger even as he brushes Dave's shades so that he has plenty of time to pull away. When Dave doesn't, Karkat slides his shades off.

The blood-red color of Dave's irises is always shocking and disorienting to see. It had taken Karkat quite a few times to try and see Dave's eyes as "beautiful" after sweeps of having it hammered into his head that such a color was lower than swill and a rightfully-deserved death sentence. But, in the end, it's not the color that makes Dave's eyes gorgeous: like the rest of his body, Karkat admires his eyes because they're Dave's. He knows that Dave's eyes, chin, nose, and everything from his bony wrists to his freakishly long toes would not be attractive on anyone else, but that's okay because Karkat adores all of those physical characteristics where they are.

He brings Dave's hand up to his mouth, and Karkat makes deliberate eye contact as he kisses the first knuckle of Dave's pinkie; then his ring finger, his middle, his index, and his thumb. Karkat takes his time, kissing every fingertip, swiping his tongue over every nail, tracing the lines of Dave's palm with his lips. For once, Karkat finds himself at a loss for words. He thinks that Dave understands his reverence, though, if the pretty flush to his face, or the way his gaze is glued to Karkat's mouth, or the lump in his pants are any indications.

"I'm sorry," Karkat says, continuing to lavish Dave's hand in attention by nosing his inner wrist. "I want to… to make love with you, Dave, but I don't think I know how. It was always difficult to finish myself back on Alternia. I thought it would be different with a partner, but…" He pauses and bites the inside of his cheek. "I'm worried that something's wrong with me. I definitely feel arousal, and I'm abso-fucking-lutely attracted to you, but I can't perform and I don't understand why."

Karkat tried, the first time he'd failed: once Dave went back to his own block to avoid the lingering awkwardness, Karkat yanked his pants off and tried everything he could to force his bulge out. But no matter how he rubbed or stroked or pinched, nothing happened. It has been the same thing every time he's tried since. A low sex drive had been Karkat's first guess, but just seeing Dave's shirt ride up when they were cuddling made him unbelievably horny, so it wasn't as if he was suffering from a lack of interest.

"Maybe, uh…" Dave chews on his lower lip thoughtfully. "Maybe you're trying too hard."

"That doesn't make the slightest bit of sense. There's no such thing as "trying too hard," Dave," Karkat tells him. It's such a ridiculous idea that it's almost laughable — and Karkat would have laughed if he weren't desperate enough to consider it.

Dave snorts. "Sure there is. Ignore your propaganda brainwashing for a few minutes and listen to me." He cups Karkat's face and leans their foreheads together with perhaps a little more force than necessary. "Okay. Are you listening? Because I'm only gonna say this once, so you'd better sit down, buckle your fuckle, and open your ear flaps or whatever funny troll word you've got for your listening holes. Open them wide, Karkat. I'm talkin' gaping, absolutely obscene, that's how open I need your ears to be. I'll go alchemize a speculum if need be, whatever it takes to get those holes wide enough for me to fit my fist in so that I can cram my sweet words—"

For some reason, all of that bullshit spewing from Dave's mouth like a busted faucet makes Karkat kiss him. He only lingers for a few seconds, long enough to make Dave shut up, and when he pulls back, Karkat can't help the fond smile on his face. "Dave, for fuck's sake," he says without any heat, "I could not be listening more if I tried. Just tell me what you need to say."

"Right. Totally. Okay. I'm, uh, going to go ahead and do that." Dave is wearing a stupid little grin that only makes Karkat want to kiss him again. Before he can, though, Dave clears his throat. "I think maybe you're just feeling pressured by this... need to perform. I know I probably can't do much to help you relax, but you don't need to rush yourself. I'm totally okay with waiting however long it takes to have sex with you."

It's so difficult to believe him. Karkat wants to believe him, so why is it so hard? "What if we can never have sex?" He whispers, voice breaking. What if Dave wants to take on another partner eventually? What if he gets tired of waiting for something that will never come? What if they do have sex and it's disappointing?

In the face of Karkat's mountain of insecurities, Dave shrugs. "So?" He says, and it's such a simple answer that Karkat finds all he can do is stare. "It's not like we've got any drones coming for our heads if we don't copulate post-haste, man. If we never get down and dirty, then that's fine, obviously. I know this might come as a shock, but I care about you a whole lot, and it's gonna take more than just being doomed to an eternity of choking my own chicken to change my mind about that."

He knows that Dave is being sarcastic, but it is difficult for Karkat to wrap his mind around that. It was difficult for him to process that Dave returned his feelings, or didn't mind dealing with his quadrant-flipping bullshit, or found him attractive enough to consider sex. It's nearly impossible to fathom that Dave wants to be in a relationship with him even if Karkat can't give him anything as simple as sex.

Nearly.

But, fuck, no matter how stupid Dave sounds, saying such sweet shit to the most useless troll to ever hatch, Karkat wants more than anything to believe him.

"I care about you, too," is what Karkat settles on saying.

He knows what humans say: "I love you." He's said "flushed," and "pale," and "pitch black" to Dave before, and sometimes even "ashen" when watching Dave have a particularly heated argument with Vriska. But the concept of a single word for love is as all-encompassing as it is underwhelming, and the words sit awkward and heavy on Karkat's tongue.

"Okay. Glad we got that cleared up." Dave takes a deep breath, and his smile is a tentative, nervous thing. "Do you trust me?"

The words are so numerous that they get stuck in Karkat's throat. He settles on a nod, choking on his own affection, and bites his lip to keep from saying anything stupid like; "of course," or "with my life," or "how could I not?"

"Awesome." Bending down, Dave gives him a kiss on the nose. Karkat tries and fails to not find it adorable. "Let's just take it slow, yeah? No pressure. You can tell me to stop whenever."

Karkat nods and does his best to relax, concentrating on lowering his shoulders and releasing the tension in his thighs. He doesn't think that he's doing a very good job, but it becomes a bit easier when Dave kisses him.

Kissing, as Karkat has discovered, takes focus. Technically, his first kiss was with Terezi, but he doesn't think that was so much a "kiss" as it was her running her tongue over his lips. Dave's teeth are nowhere near as sharp as Terezi's, and he's a lot less enthusiastic with his tongue. His lips move slowly; languidly, like Dave is focusing on every movement before he makes it. Matching Dave takes work, and Karkat scrunches his face in concentration as their tongues get involved.

He thinks that maybe he's focusing too much on the kissing technique itself rather than enjoying it, and Karkat is proven correct when Dave pulls back a little to chuckle. Karkat turns pink and scowls, refusing to make eye-contact and acknowledge his embarrassment. He's kissed Dave before, plenty of times. It shouldn't be hard. But something about the context of Dave's block always makes the simplest of things difficult.

"Relax, Karkat," Dave mumbles against his lips. "I've got you. Shh. Shoosh…"

He strokes the pads of his fingers over Karkat's jaw and scratches lightly at his scalp, combing through Karkat's coarse hair. Dave's hands slowly move up, stroking and petting, and he continues with his shushing even as their kiss deepens. When Dave circles the tips of Karkat's horns, tracing around them and working his way down to the base, Karkat lets out a pleased sigh. A stuttering purr begins in his chest; because no matter how pale Dave is acting, Karkat feels far too flushed for those sorts of noises.

Karkat is the one who deepens the kiss, draping his arms around Dave's neck and pulling him closer. His center of gravity shifts back, and it's suddenly the easiest thing in the world to let himself lay down on the copulation platform. Dave hovers above him without breaking the kiss, parting his lips and darting his tongue out teasingly. Copying the motion, Karkat runs his fingers down the neck of Dave's shirt, lightly scratching bare skin with the tips of his claws. The noise that Dave makes, groaning open-mouthed against Karkat's lips, has arousal surging in his gut.

The heat quickly grows to be too much. Karkat's skin feels hot and itchy, and his movements begin to falter. His pulse flutters in his throat, telling him to pull away, to retreat, but he doesn't want to, and it's the most frustrating thing in the world to not be able to control himself. Even when Karkat is sick of running, it's all he knows how to do.

It's so humiliating that this keeps happening. Dave is being so understanding and patient and careful, and Karkat is still wasting his time. He feels his frustration grow, but the more Karkat tries to force himself to calm down, the harder it is to focus on the moment.

"Hey," Dave breathes against him, "talk to me, Karkat. Where's your head at?"

"I—" Karkat opens his mouth to reply and has to take a breath. He hadn't realized that he'd been hyperventilating, but he feels lightheaded from lack of air. He squeezes his eyes shut. "I was— I was getting hot. And— body temperature, it— But that's not really the problem. I started thinking, and I couldn't stop—"

"You're spiraling?" Sitting back on his knees, Dave sets his hands on either side of Karkat's face. "Look at me, Karkat. Focus on me. Try to sync your breathing with mine."

"What good will that do?" Karkat gripes, but he does as he's told, anyway.

Dave doesn't pull away, thank God. He kneels over Karkat, purposefully breathing deeply and with exaggeration. Karkat almost wants to roll his eyes, but he knows that Dave is being sweet even though he doesn't have to be, so he swallows his skepticism to copy Dave's breathing. It gives him something to focus on, which helps some, admittedly. He breathes deeply into his stomach, in and out and in and out and in. Still, it's not until Dave resumes rubbing his horns that Karkat feels most of the tension leave him.

"So, what's up?" The question is soft as Dave tilts his head curiously. "Usually you can at least get your shirt off before you start panicking about serenading the ol' trouser snake."

"Shut up," Karkat says reflexively. He frowns at the ceiling. "I don't know. I just… Ugh." He buries his face in his hands.

It's so stupid that he's talking about this, but Karkat isn't going to complain. If he can't have sex with Dave, the least he can do is explain why.

"I think it goes back to Alternia," he admits at last. Dave is silent, waiting for Karkat to find the words. "I used to have to hide in my hive whenever a drone flew overhead, because they can sense body temperature and I would have been culled on the spot if they found someone so blatantly off-spectrum. I've spent so long hiding my body heat, and my blood color. Beyond that, my life has been so stressful, even before the Game, that I don't actually remember having ever relaxed."

There's so much more that Karkat could tell Dave. He could talk about how, the first time he masturbated, he'd seen his red genetic material all over his hands and started crying so hard that he couldn't breathe. Or about how paranoia from drone scouts kept him up for days upon days, bleeding into weeks, until Karkat forgot what it was like to sleep soundly. Or how the one and only time he'd ever made the mistake of telling another troll his blood color, they'd tried to cull him on the spot.

When would Karkat have had the time to relax, growing up in a world that hated him just for daring to hatch?

"Too bad we can't grow weed on this space rock," Dave jokes, but his smile doesn't quite meet his eyes. He's not looking at Karkat with pity, exactly. It's not an emotion that can be easily named. "But, yeah, I sorta know what you mean — about never relaxing." Dave looks down, suddenly fascinated with Karkat's sweater. "This one time, my Bro ambushed me in the shower. I thought he had a gig that night, but nah. I slipped and smacked my head on the shower floor. Needed to go to the hospital to get stitches." He purses his lips unhappily and Karkat has to resist the urge to pap his frown away. "The only times I ever slapped my salami were when I knew Bro was absolutely gone from the apartment, and even then I usually waited a while just in case and had to check my room for traps. And sometimes I was so keyed up that it didn't even work. I'd jerk it for a while just to end up giving up, taking a piss, and calling it a night. So… I like to think I know where you're coming from, at least partly." Here, Dave forces his gaze up to meet Karkat's eyes, and the sincerity there makes Karkat want to kiss him more than anything. "That's why I think maybe you're just not relaxin' properly. Your thoughts can really fuck with your ability to spank it efficiently."

Karkat finally recognizes the emotion on Dave's face: empathy. And Karkat is struck by the realization that Dave has never pitied him, and probably never will. He understands. He's been in the same situations as Karkat; felt just as ashamed of himself simply for existing; told himself that if he were just bigger, or stronger, or tried a little harder, all of the bad feelings would go away.

It's so odd to see himself reflected so perfectly in Dave's eyes, with irises as blood red as Karkat's will be once he finishes adult moult. He's never believed in soulmates — because if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. But what other explanation is there, when there's so many branching paths, so many choices left unmade, and so many stars that had to align just to create this moment?

"I love you," Karkat says, and Dave's eyes widen in surprise.

Before he can respond, Karkat reaches up to cup his face, pulling Dave back down into a kiss. He flips them over, pinning Dave to the copulation platform instead, and that makes it easier to breathe; easier to focus on the moment and let himself enjoy it. Dave quickly gets into the motion of things, kissing back eagerly and resting his hands on Karkat's hips. This time, their kisses are fast and messy. Karkat licks at Dave's lips to get rid of that chapped sensation, and he thinks briefly that he ought to be grossed out by their spit mingling, but he's not, he just wants to be closer to Dave, to kiss him until his lips are bruised.

There is dismay fluid in Karkat's eyes, but as much as he hates crying, this time he allows it. He isn't sad — actually, Karkat can barely keep himself from smiling into the kiss, and he chuckles when Dave's fingers catch the hem of his shirt.

"You good?" Dave asks. He tilts his head to break the kiss, pressing his lips down the column of Karkat's throat instead.

Dave doesn't understand at all how much this gesture means for trolls, how much trust is involved, and Karkat almost says so before he pauses and reconsiders. There are little cuts down Dave's neck, like the rest of his body, and Karkat imagines him pinned to the roof of his former hive with a foot on his chest and a sword at his throat and a pair of emotionless shades glinting above him, and he thinks that maybe Dave does understand how much Karkat trusts him.

Empathy goes both ways, after all.

"Yes." Karkat nods, too overcome with emotion to put everything he's feeling into words. "Keep going. Don't stop."

Even though Dave looks (rightly) skeptical, he doesn't argue. He pulls back just enough to help Karkat squirm out of his sweater, and it gets tossed somewhere onto Dave's floor. Karkat feels a surge of self-consciousness beginning to build, and he determinedly bites it down. He distracts himself by kissing Dave again, cupping his face. Dave's hands work up his back, feeling the ridges of Karkat's spine and brushing over his grub scars. It doesn't feel arousing, but the physical touch itself is nice, and Karkat lets out a pleased click in the back of his throat to encourage Dave to continue.

It's easy to let Dave do what he wants so long as Karkat doesn't think too hard about it. He shifts his hips against Dave's thigh and doesn't pay attention to the firmness pressing against his leg, or to the ache of his nook. Karkat pulls up the edge of Dave's shirt to expose his stomach, pausing for a moment to make sure he's allowed to. It only takes one look at Dave's flushed face, lips parted and eyes dilated, for Karkat to have his answer. He slips Dave's shirt off, his God Tier cape going with it, and it ends up somewhere with his sweater on the floor.

It isn't the first time that Karkat has seen Dave shirtless, but he pauses to stare, anyway. A lot of time has passed since they started the meteor journey, and Dave has changed since they first met. Where he once had lingering fat at his hips and thighs, Dave now has muscle, and he's grown so tall so quickly that the fat he does have sits awkwardly on his weedy body. There are wisps of blond hair under his arms and speckled across his chest, pointing towards the patch of hair sticking out invitingly from where his pants rest low on his hips. Karkat is again struck by the thought of how alien Dave is; how fragile and damn-near sickly he looks, with his blue veins prominent against skin so thin that it's practically transparent, and the shape of his bones so clear that it's like an invitation. He wouldn't find these physical traits attractive on another troll, or even a different human, for that matter — but that doesn't matter, because this is Dave's body, Dave laying so patiently and trusting beneath him, and Dave that Karkat loves more than anything.

"Take a picture," Dave drawls at last. "It'll last longer." His voice is carefully controlled, but his eyes are pinched with anxiousness. "Like, damn, Karkat — I know how undeniably fine I am, but you don't have to waste time staring. My sweet abs aren't going anywhere."

It's strangely relaxing to know that he isn't the only one who's nervous. Karkat smiles, leaning down to press their foreheads together. Dave snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide, and says nothing. "You're beautiful," Karkat tells him, because he gets the feeling that no one else ever has, and Dave deserves to hear it.

Dave, in all of his infinite hypocrisy, stutters and flushes pink when faced with a genuine compliment. It takes him a moment to get his wits about him again, and when Dave regains the ability to speak, all he says is, "Dude. That's gay as hell."

Karkat can't help but laugh. This is supposed to be a sexy moment, he knows, but it's so much easier to just do this: the stupid shit that he and Dave do everyday. He hadn't realized how much pressure he was putting on himself until Dave forced him to put it down. All he can think is, "I love you I love you I love you," and Karkat can't imagine that Dave's thoughts are much different.

They meet in the middle, lips searching for each other, noses bumping, their hands clumsily reaching for whatever they can get. It's awkward and sort of weird and exciting. Karkat feels his nook soaking his boxers and is briefly glad that he was never a fan of masturbation, because touching himself alone is never going to compare to the feeling of Dave's skin pressed flush against his.

This is still familiar territory. They've been here before, and Karkat knows that it'd be safer not to push. The last few times they tried, it ended with him losing his arousal embarrassingly quickly, being unable to reclaim it, and eventually being so humiliated that all he could do was flee. Karkat is sure that Dave wouldn't be disappointed. He's already making pleased noises, groaning encouragingly into Karkat's mouth when he bites lightly on Dave's lower lip. Although Dave's hands are not still, rubbing and squeezing and pinching Karkat's chest and hips and horns, he hasn't attempted to push below the waist.

They could stop. It would be easy.

Karkat is tired of being a coward. He wants continuing to be even easier, and it will never get that way if he allows himself to always run away.

He is the one who makes that first push, and it's easier to ignore the anxious protests in the back of his mind when he's focusing on Dave. His fingers dip beneath the hem of Dave's pants, and Karkat grabs a handful of his ass. Like the rest of his body, Dave's ass is bony and not very impressive. It's Karkat's favorite ass in the whole world. The feeling of it in his hands, the way that Dave's pants cling to his thighs and ass, makes heat coil in Karkat's gut.

It doesn't scare him like it usually does.

While his other hand lightly scratches down Dave's side, Karkat squeezes his ass, and the squeak of surprise that Dave lets out somehow manages to be as arousing as it is adorable. He does his best not to laugh, but the humor must show on Karkat's face because Dave scowls.

"Yeah, laugh it up while you still can," he huffs. "You just caught me off guard, that's all. It ain't gonna happen again." A smile twitches on Dave's face as he tries and fails to suppress it.

"Is that a challenge?" Karkat asks, fond and amused and aroused all at once, and he wishes that he'd paid more attention to Dave in the past instead of always freaking out, because Karkat wants to know every single spot on his body that will make Dave moan.

Dave sticks his tongue out in a way that is probably supposed to be playful, but all Karkat can think is that he wants to bite it. "It'd only be a challenge if you had a snowball's chance in hell at proving me wrong," Dave taunts. His expression is entirely too soft and doesn't match his words at all. The unasked question in his eyes is obvious, "Do you want to keep going? Is this okay? You aren't forcing yourself, are you?"

Indecision makes Karkat waver, but no, he decides. He's not forcing himself. This is something that he wants, even if it's hard.

"Take your clothes off," Karkat says bluntly. He doesn't wait for Dave to listen, shifting back to tug on the hem of his pants.

Dave makes a huffing sort of laugh, like he's surprised, but doesn't protest. He lifts his ass off of the mattress and lets Karkat slide his pants down. Karkat grabs hold of Dave's boxers, too, because he knows that if he doesn't then he's just going to hesitate later.

Human genitals are not the surprise that they were the first time that Karkat saw them, but they're still just as foreign and awkward looking. Humans must be a young species, Karkat thinks, because having their gonads on the outside of the body is the dumbest evolutionary decision he's ever seen. He thinks about saying something like that, but Dave's cock — the strange flesh tube that it is — is half-hard, and the sight of Dave's arousal while his face is still relatively blank and controlled makes Karkat's bulge throb in its sheath. He wants to touch Dave, to make him moan and throw his head back, spine arched and toes curling and moaning like he can't control himself—

So that's what Karkat does.

He's done this part only once before, his fraying nerves causing him to flee. This time, Karkat doesn't focus on whether or not he's doing this correctly or the pressure of his bulge wanting to unsheathe. He wraps his hand around Dave's cock and focuses entirely on the motions of jerking him off; on Dave's expressions.

Dave's breath hitches and he cants his hips forward, just an inch. He winces at the first pump, when Karkat is too quick and the skin is too dry, and Dave leans his head up to meet Karkat in a kiss as he bends over and murmurs a fleeting, "sorry," against Dave's lips.

The kiss doesn't linger, because Karkat is wholly devoted to the task he's assigned himself. He lets Dave tuck his face into the crook of his neck instead, making a soft clicking noise at the intimacy of it. Dave chuckles, but the noise becomes high-pitched and breathy as Karkat runs his thumb pad over the tip of Dave's dick. Encouraged, Karkat does it again, and Dave wraps his arms around Karkat's neck in response. Blond hair tickles his cheek, and Dave's stuttering breaths and uncharacteristically wanton sighs are right against Karkat's ear. He knows that he must be a mess as well, breathing hard and no doubt flushed from head to toe, and the thought makes Karkat giddy.

He watches, fascinated, as Dave's cock hardens under his touch. Karkat continues to rub the head, experimenting with running his thumb under that odd bit of skin at the tip, and is transfixed by the noises Dave makes. He doesn't say much of anything now, all of those big words and lengthy metaphors stolen from him. Dave mumbles a few things that sound like curses, like Karkat's name, like "more" and "faster" and "please."

Karkat wouldn't dream of stopping.

He's certain that he's not doing anything fantastic or groundbreaking, but moisture beads at the tip of Dave's dick and Karkat swipes it away, lubricating his palm with it so that it doesn't hurt when he switches to a faster pace. Once Karkat finds a rhythm, he drags his gaze up Dave's body — admiring the roll of his hips and the way his stomach muscles quiver and how the curve of his back has stuck out his pecs and hardened nipples so invitingly — to stare at his face.

A deep red flush chases up Dave's chest and face, swallowing up his freckles. Dave's mouth is slightly parted, drool pooling in the corners of his lips, and his eyes are scrunched up, his head hanging back limply. He is unaware of Karkat's staring, focused entirely on the sensations between his legs.

Enthralled, Karkat gives a harsh squeeze, wringing a broken, high-pitched moan out of Dave's throat. He leans against the wall, panting harder now, and throws an arm across his face. "Karkat—" Dave reaches a hand out blindly, and Karkat grabs hold of it without looking away. "Karkat, I'm— Fuck…" Whatever he was going to say is forgotten as Dave hunches himself forward like he's trying to curl around his pelvis, humping into Karkat's hand.

He is the most beautiful thing Karkat has ever seen.

And then Dave opens his mouth and groans, "Stop."

Immediately, Karkat lets go, feeling anxiety surge in his chest and wipe away all of the soft, fluttering feelings he'd just been having. "Are you okay?" He asks, leaning back to get a better look at Dave. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" Did he misunderstand the noises Dave was making, assuming they were of pleasure when they were really of pain?

"Shut up, I'm fine," Dave sighs, reaching up to lazily slap a hand over Karkat's mouth. "You don't need to apologize or kill yourself to repent for your sins or whatever. I just didn't want to cum yet."

Once he's sure that Karkat's not going to freak out, Dave lowers his hand. The first thing that Karkat asks with his newly-freed mouth is, "Why not?"

He can't help but feel a little disappointed. Karkat has never seen Dave in the throes of ecstasy, and if he can get Dave like that with just his hand then he's eager to see what it might be like to get his bulge involved. He drops his gaze momentarily and wishes, fleetingly, that Dave had a nook to fuck. The thought makes Karkat turn red with embarrassment. He's never been an overly sexual person, but it's different with Dave.

It's not about his own pleasure — Karkat just really, really wants to make his partner feel good.

"This ain't about me. We're supposed to be helping you out with your hang-ups, remember?" Dave says. He looks surprisingly comfortable, leaning casually against the wall with his hands folded over his stomach and his ankles crossed while his reddened cock continues to stand erect. They could be talking about anything from the weather to the terrible movie they'd just been watching, based on Dave's tone.

Karkat wants to hear him come undone again.

"I've been enjoying this, though," Karkat can't help but protest. His hand is still damp with Dave's arousal, and Karkat finds that he can't make eye-contact. "I… I really like getting to make you feel good."

He loves the trust Dave is showing him, he loves the sight of Dave truly losing his cool and letting himself unwind, he loves the noises that Dave makes and the view of his bare body and how close they are. For the first time, Karkat thinks he fully understands why this is called "making love."

The mattress shifts, and Dave gets up to kneel in front of Karkat. Hands cup his face, the skin calloused but the touch soft, and Dave tilts Karkat's head up so that they're looking each other in the eyes. It's nearly painful to do so — Karkat is used to analyzing Dave's body language and the twitches of his eyebrows or mouth to figure out what he's thinking, so to see all of his feelings openly on display without his shades in the way is overwhelming in the best possible way.

"I want to make you feel good, too," Dave murmurs, staring into Karkat's eyes like—

Swallowing hard, Karkat drops his gaze down to Dave's lips in an attempt to lessen the energy in the air, surging between them as an electric current. He feels emotion (and that's all he can describe it as, because to say that it's "fondness" or "affection" or even "love" doesn't describe how intense it is) rise in his chest, so heavy that Karkat could choke on it. He can't breathe, but that doesn't worry him — dying like this, in Dave's arms, doesn't seem that bad at all.

"Don't look at me like that," Karkat says before he can think better of it.

Dave tilts his head, part amused and part curious. "Like what?"

"I don't know." And here, Karkat has to pause. He's not sure what to say. How can he take all of the thoughts on display in Dave's eyes and boil them down to a few words? "Like you love me."

The surprise on Dave's face lasts for only a moment, quickly melting away into something painfully tender. "Well," Dave murmurs; softly, quietly, breathlessly. "This is awkward, then." He leans in, grabbing Karkat's hand to entwine their fingers. Dave presses their foreheads together and brushes a lingering, feather-light kiss across Karkat's lips. "Because, crazy as it sounds, I do love you."

There is nothing that Karkat can say in response — not when every word he knows seems insignificant; when his emotions swell in his chest so strongly that he feels like he's being crushed; when no gesture or gift or promise that Karkat can imagine in his wildest fantasies to give to Dave feels anywhere close to good enough.

Karkat chokes down his apologies — "I'm sorry that I don't have anything beautiful to say," and "I'm sorry for always being so difficult," and "I'm sorry that you fell in love with me when anyone can see that you deserve better" — to choke on Dave's tongue instead. Their kiss is rough and passionate, a complete contrast to the way that they're touching each other.

Careful of his claws, Karkat cradles Dave's face in his hands, scratching lightly behind his ears and down his neck. Dave's hair is so thin and soft that his claws rake through it with no resistance. There's a soft hum of approval against Karkat's tongue as he continues the petting motions. At the same time, Dave's fingers move purposefully but slowly down. He pauses to massage Karkat's pectoral muscles, then his grub scars, lingering to scratch right underneath them in a way that makes Karkat stiffen and groan encouragingly. It doesn't feel good, but it's not bad, either. It's mostly the implications of what Dave is doing — applying pressure to such a sensitive area, when he could force his fingers under the chitin-like scar tissue and yank — that's making Karkat squirm.

Now that attention is back on him, Karkat's arousal returns as a slow pulsing in his pelvis, but his anxiety surges again as well. Dave's fingers run down his sides and Karkat's breath hitches. He doesn't relax again until Dave moves his hands back up. Again and again, Dave strokes up and down his sides, keeping Karkat distracted by kissing him.

It's so easy to lose himself in the hot press of Dave's mouth and the curve of his lips. He runs his tongue along Karkat's fangs and kisses him open-mouthed, pushing his tongue in as deep as he can get it. Karkat lets out a warbled chirp, sucking on Dave's tongue mindlessly. His face burns red as Dave pulls away to kiss along Karkat's jaw and down his neck instead. Dave bites down, right over his jugular, and his teeth aren't sharp enough to break the skin, but Karkat still moans—

And suddenly squeaks when the tip of his bulge curls out of its sheathe to stripe wetly along his thigh. Karkat pants for breath, eyes blown wide.

He's never been able to do that around Dave before. Was he really so relaxed that he hadn't even realized how aroused he was becoming?

Dave notices the change and pauses, one finger hooked in the waistband of Karkat's pants. "Dude," he says, and it's just one word but Dave sounds so turned on and helplessly heated that it makes Karkat's bulge squirm. "Are you, like…? Did you just…?" He nods his head down, apparently at a loss for words.

The way that Karkat's bulge is rubbing against Dave's thigh through his pants ought to be answer enough, but Karkat finds himself nodding. He's not sure which one of them is more red in the face. "It's called a bulge, Dave," he replies, voice gravelly and far too affected.

There's a pause. Karkat thinks that he might just die of mortification, his bulge curling in on itself as his anxiety swells, when Dave licks his lips and asks hoarsely, "Can I see you?"

It's not the question that makes Karkat pause, but the way that Dave asks it. There's lust in Dave's eyes, obviously, but there's also so much more than that. Too many emotions to name; so many things that all boil down to "love."

Karkat doesn't trust himself to speak, so he nods. He looks down, watching as Dave's hands find his hips and his fingers curl around the hem of his pants. He has to shift back a little to help get them off, and watches in silent embarrassment as his bulge coils in his briefs. This pair are probably ruined, undoubtedly stained with candy-red genetic fluid by now.

"Is that an Eldritch horror in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" Dave asks, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Oh my God." Karkat snorts, shoving Dave playfully. "Shut up or I'll put my pants back on. I'm here to be seduced; if I wanted to think about horrorterrors, I would go have a conversation with Rose."

Despite his words, Karkat makes no attempt to pull away. His chest flutters pleasantly when Dave wraps his arms loosely around his waist, pulling Karkat against his chest.

"No way did you just bring up my sister during sex, man. Uncool." With a tisk, Dave shakes his head.

Thinking about Rose definitely isn't arousing, but the whole ridiculous conversation is very much welcome. Karkat focuses on lowering his tense shoulders and relaxing into Dave's chest. The silence between them grows intimate and Karkat presses chaste kisses along Dave's neck and collarbone. Dave is waiting, but Karkat isn't sure what he's waiting for until he feels Dave stroke his bare thigh. The feeling makes him shiver, and Dave's cock twitches where it's pressed against Karkat's hip.

Karkat laughs softly. "Looks like bringing up Rose wasn't the boner-killer you thought it was."

"It's gonna be if you keep mentioning her," Dave grumbles, not that it stops him from continuing.

His hands squeeze Karkat's thighs and Dave moves up and between them to stroke the sensitive skin there. Dave's fingers brush the front of his pelvis, and Karkat's bulge twists slowly against the barely-there touch. It's far too soft to provide any pleasure, but at the same time, it's absolutely insanity-inducing. Karkat makes a breathy noise, and Dave pauses.

"You okay with this?" A kiss is pressed beneath each of Karkat's tightly-shut eyes as Dave retracts his hand. "We can stop anytime you want to, you know. I'm not gonna be disappointed."

As much as he wants to say "yes," Karkat can't ignore how nervous he's getting. It's infuriating, because he feels good and he's enjoying himself and he wants this, but those God-awful alarm bells in the back of his mind won't shut up.

When Karkat doesn't answer, Dave keeps his hands to himself, waiting patiently with his brow creased in concern. Knowing how eager he is just makes Dave's ability to wait endlessly even more endearing.

"Let me do it," Karkat says at last. He doesn't want to stop, but he's not quite sure if he'll be able to handle Dave touching him yet, either. He reaches for his briefs, then hesitates. "Just… Tell me if you start getting bored."

That's not the end of Karkat's concerns — not even close. What if Dave thinks he's ugly, or voyeur isn't his fetish, or neither of them ends up enjoying it? The only thing that's worse than having Dave's undivided attention is losing it.

Dave makes an amused noise, sitting back against the wall and spreading his legs. His cock hasn't wilted in the slightest. "There's literally a zero percent chance of that happening, babe."

It's a stupid, human pet name that doesn't mean anything special, but Karkat feels a surge of warmth run through him all the same. He feels— Well, not confident, but encouraged. Dave certainly isn't faking the adoration in his eyes, or the way that his gaze is glued hungrily to the writhing hiding behind Karkat's last piece of clothing. With Dave staring so unabashedly at him, Karkat almost — almost — feels beautiful.

He reaches down and shoves his underwear off before he loses his nerve. Like Karkat assumed, the crotch is smeared with red cum, effectively ruining that pair. His bulge is a mess, dripping globs of thick cum down the length and onto the sheets. Karkat grasps his bulge around the middle to keep it from grinding itself against his thigh, surprised to see that it's almost entirely out of the sheathe. When did that happen?

Even without glancing up, Karkat can tell that Dave is still staring at him. He's not sure what sort of face Dave is making, and it's easier not to know. For the moment, Karkat soothes himself by pretending that he's alone. He strokes lightly down the length of his bulge, teasing the edges of his sheathe with his claws to make himself shiver. It's a gentle motion, so Karkat is surprised when a heady moan fills the air — until he realizes that he isn't the one making noise.

He looks up, surprised, and Karkat's mouth falls open at the sight in front of him. Dave is touching himself, jerking on his cock like he's trying to rip it off. His eyes are hazy, pupils blown so wide that the red of his irises are barely visible. He's biting his lip, staring at Karkat's bulge, which is positively writhing now.

When Karkat's hand stills, though, Dave's gaze flicks up to him and he whines. Suddenly, Karkat completely understands why this is called "fucking." He wants to keep Dave like this all the time, to see him covered in cum, to hear him beg, to fuck him until he's seeing stars and can't speak and can't even remember his own name. The soft heat in his stomach becomes a heavy, molten ball, and Karkat thinks he could cum just from watching Dave pleasure himself.

"What are you doing? Don't stop." Dave pants for breath as his stroking slows, his tone bordering on begging. "Jesus fucking Christ in Heaven, Karkat— You're gorgeous."

The breathless earnesty of Dave's compliment leaves Karkat burning up, and he obeys without hesitation. The nervous clench in his chest never leaves, but it's so easy to ignore when Dave looks like that.

He grasps the base of his bulge tightly and drags his hand upwards, squeezing genetic material out like he's wringing a towel. Cum pools into the palm of Karkat's hand, and the sight of his disgusting blood color staining Dave's sheets — leaving such obvious evidence — makes him shudder in disgust as a shot of terror runs up his spine.

To the contrary, Dave makes a noise in the back of his throat that's high-pitched and strangled, like someone has grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. Karkat is fascinated, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he did that. Dave is moaning because of him, and Karkat isn't even touching him.

He groans softly under his breath, though Karkat is nowhere near the extent of Dave's wanton noises. All of Karkat's focus is on Dave, so he immediately notices when Dave begins to hump into his hand more desperately and his soft cries become incoherent. He's not familiar with human sex, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what that means.

"Dave," Karkat says, and he's surprised by how his own voice shakes. "I'm not close yet."

This is going well — far better than Karkat ever hoped — and he feels good, since he knows what he likes, but Karkat isn't anywhere close to finishing. He can't help but feel ashamed, and his self-consciousness makes his bulge retract an inch. Why isn't this as easy for him as it is for Dave? Is Karkat still doing something wrong?

Oblivious to Karkat's inner turmoil, Dave shakes his head. "That's fine," he mutters, eyes half-lidded and his stare burning. "I want— I want you to watch me, Karkat. Watch me cum for you."

This time, when Karkat shivers, it's from pleasure. He's naked, but he feels like he's overheating. It would be nice to kiss Dave like this, open-mouthed and messy, but Karkat can't take his eyes off of the sight of him.

"You are the hottest thing I've ever laid eyes on," Karkat groans, biting his lip. "You look so good like that, Dave, fuck, you're so perfect."

"Shit…" Trembling from the praise, Dave spreads his legs obscenely wide, leaning over himself as he palms his balls with one hand and continues to jerk himself off with the other. "Karkat… Keep— Keep talking," he begs, because there's no other word for how Dave's voice edges into desperation, and he looks so undone that Karkat isn't sure how he hasn't cum already.

His own needy bulge and the clenching of his nook are forgotten. Karkat leans over, on his hands and knees, and kisses Dave softly; sweetly. He sets one hand on Dave's thigh and squeezes, lightly dragging his nails across the sensitive skin to make Dave keen.

"I really do wish that I was a horrorterror or some other sort of abomination," Karkat tells Dave once he pulls away. He's just saying whatever thought pops into his head. Right now, like this, neither of them have a script or a mask or a part to play, and Karkat is so in love that he might burst with it. "I wish I had more hands so that I could touch you everywhere, all at once, and multiple mouths to praise you while I kiss you, and two sets of eyes so that I can stare at your cock and your face at the same time."

Dave makes a noise that can only be described as "enthusiastic agreement." He tilts his head back, and Karkat doesn't hesitate to kiss and nip at the soft, thin skin of Dave's neck. "Oh, God," he whimpers. "Fuck, yes, that'd be so good… I want you so bad, Karkat, I don't even know how to put it into words."

Being able to render Dave Strider speechless is probably Karkat's most impressive feat to date. Karkat bites down, right over the swell of his throat, and the moan that Dave lets out edges suspiciously close to a sob. Being careful, Karkat stops as soon as he tastes blood. He thumbs over the bruise that he left, pressing down just hard enough to make Dave whimper.

"You had to give me a hickey in the most obvious place imaginable? Everyone's gonna see that," Dave whines, though he seems far from upset. "Got me marked up like a virgin cheerleader on prom night…"

There's a bit of blood on Dave's neck, and Karkat grabs his wrist to keep Dave from stroking his cock as he leans in and deliberately runs his tongue from the dip of Dave's collarbone to the underside of his jaw. The noise that Dave makes is obscene, and when Karkat looks up, he's both startled and thrilled to see dismay fluid pricking the corners of his eyes. Karkat has never been so wet in his life.

"Good. Let them see." There's a growl in Karkat's voice; possessive but soft, and he lets go of Dave's wrist to wrap a hand around his cock. "I don't give a fuck what the others think. I want you to know that you're mine. And I'm yours, aren't I, Dave?"

The pace that Karkat sets with his hand is slow, and Dave gets his wits about him enough to nod and answer coherently. "Fuck, Karkat… How could I ever be anyone else's?"

There is no thought in Karkat's head except for, "I love you I love you I love you." He doesn't have the words — he barely even has the space in his chest for the feeling — so he settles on stroking faster. Dave's head falls forward, his forehead resting on Karkat's shoulder and his hands clutching Karkat's hips for dear life. Desperately, Dave grinds into the warmth of Karkat's hand.

Dave babbles under his breath, curses and incoherent sentences and fragments of Karkat's name. And then Karkat rubs the head of his cock, hard, and Dave chokes. "Karkat, I love you so much, I love you, I— I'm—!" He cuts himself off as he spills into Karkat's hand. There are soft groans spilling from his lips as Dave stutters his hips into the sensation, and it's all Karkat can do not to eat him alive, he's so beautiful.

When he goes limp with a satisfied little hum, Karkat lets his hand fall away. He reaches up to wrap his clean hand around Dave's back, subtly wiping off his other one on the bed sheets. At least humans don't seem to cum a lot, but based on the fluid that Karkat can feel staining his inner thighs, Dave's sheets are probably still a lost cause.

He rubs Dave's hip idly, pressing a quick kiss to the bite mark that he left. "Are you okay?" Karkat asks quietly. "I mean— Was that good for you?"

The sexual energy in the air has ebbed, but Karkat doesn't feel put off by it. The intimacy of it remains, and if his bulge weren't already unsheathed and making a mess, Karkat would be content to lay naked with Dave for hours. He adores the press of their skin together, and how alone they are — like the entire universe doesn't matter because nothing exists outside of where they're touching each other.

"Yeah." Dave huffs, amused, but his voice is sincere as he turns his head to kiss Karkat on the cheek. He trails down, following the curve of Karkat's jaw and his chin. "This is gonna sound crazy, but I love you."

Karkat resists the urge to roll his eyes, but he can't quite keep the stupid, happy smile off of his face. "I know. You've said so." He tilts his head to kiss Dave, and wonders if it would be okay to ask if they can just kiss for the next three hours and do nothing else. "I love you, too," Karkat whispers when he shifts back.

Once he catches his breath, Dave leans in. His hand drops down none-too-subtly, squeezing Karkat's hip, but Dave doesn't try to go any lower, content to suck on Karkat's tongue.

"Relax," Dave breathes into the kiss, and Karkat nods once. He dives back into the kiss, slinging an arm across Dave's shoulders and running the other hand through his hair. He hadn't even realized that he was tense until Dave drew his attention to it.

Karkat forces his shoulder to untense and lets out a slow breath. "You can touch me," he mutters. His stomach is tight, but it's an even bet between arousal and nervousness as Dave's fingers dance down the side of his thigh.

Dave is far more patient with Karkat's finish than he was with his own. He strokes Karkat's thighs, moving down to his knees and grasping behind them with both hands. Hesitantly, Karkat allows himself to be nudged backwards. He uses his hands to prop himself up, legs spread as he half-lays, half-sits on the copulation platform.

This new position leaves him much more open to Dave's gaze, and Karkat can't help but try to shrink against the sheets. His legs start to close self-consciously, and Dave's hand on his knees keeps them open.

"Don't," Dave says quietly, his eyes fixed firmly between Karkat's legs. "I wanna see you."

He looks as entranced as Karkat had been when their positions were reversed. It takes a monumental amount of willpower, but Karkat takes a deep breath and lets it out. He gives a resolute nod. "Go ahead," he replies, sounding more certain than he feels.

It must not go unnoticed, because Dave looks up at him then, giving a reassuring smile. "I'm gonna go slow," he promises, "and if you want me to stop at any point, just give me the word. Feel free to scratch me or yank on my hair if that's easier. You're the one in control here, Karkat. You got that?" He squeezes Karkat's knee, and the nerves in his stomach jump but he says nothing.

It's so upsetting to be nervous about this. Dave has never been threatening, and Karkat has every reason in the world to trust him, but he still struggles to just let himself feel good in the hands of someone he loves.

Still, Karkat has gotten this far without running away, and he's determined not to ruin things again. He takes deep breaths and does his best not to think. Karkat closes his eyes, focusing on Dave's hands trailing up between his legs. Dave squeezes and rubs the inside of Karkat's thighs, being soft and slow, just like he promised. It doesn't feel bad, and the higher up Dave's hands get, the more Karkat relaxes. Maybe he actually can do this.

Then Dave's hand brushes his bulge, and Karkat recoils, squeaking out a sharp, "Wait!"

As soon as the word leaves his lips, Dave stops. He doesn't pull away, but he goes no further. "Is this as far as you wanna go?" He asks. And Dave — bless him — doesn't sound disappointed in the slightest.

If Karkat wanted to stop, it would be fine. They've made progress. There's nothing stopping them from trying again later. They don't have to have sex now.

Dave won't be disappointed, but Karkat will be. Pride aside, it's been a while since he got off, and dammit, after all the shit he's been through, Karkat feels like he at least deserves an orgasm at the hands of his partner.

"No. I'm not done yet," Karkat tells him, his voice firm. At the surprise on Dave's face, though, Karkat's certainty wavers. "I, um—" He coughs to clear his throat, doing his best not to feel awkward. At least he's too aroused at this point for a minor slip to cause his bulge to retract. "I want to… I want you to watch." Karkat's hand dips between his legs, and he shudders at the familiar sensation of his bulge wrapping around his fingers. "Keep your hands there for now. Just… Don't touch me. Not yet."

"Got it." Though Dave nods, he barely looks like he's listening. The grip he has on Karkat's thighs tightens as Dave stares at his writhing bulge and dripping nook. "Do what you need to do to get yourself off, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

Self-consciousness surges, and Karkat doesn't manage to keep himself from asking, "Are you sure that you won't get bored just watching me?"

If he weren't so nervous, Karkat would have laughed at Dave's reaction. He blinks and then does a double take, staring at Karkat like he's just grown a second bulge. Dave opens his mouth and then closes it, too stunned for words. When he finally finds his answer, all Dave says is, "Yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure."

That should be good enough, but— "What if, even after all of this, I can't make myself cum? Won't you be disappointed?" Karkat bites his lip. He's pretty sure that being so outwardly pathetic is a major turn-off to a species that isn't turned-on by pity, but it's like he can't help but take any and every opportunity to humiliate himself.

Rather than answer, Dave leans over and kisses him. It doesn't last longer than a few seconds, but it's warm and tender, and Dave's weight above him, his body between Karkat's legs— It all makes his nook clench around nothing, and Karkat has the stray thought that he really wants Dave to shove his bizarre, rigid bulge inside of him.

"That's so stupid," Dave says fondly, clearly having much softer thoughts than Karkat is. "You don't need to "make" yourself do anything, you know. If you can't cum, then that's fine, too. We've already talked a bunch today, and look at you." He shifts back to look Karkat up and down — appraisingly, lovingly, hungrily — and Dave's attention makes Karkat shiver from his horns to his toes. "You made a bunch of progress, even though it's hard. I could never be disappointed in you trying your best. I'm proud of you."

Karkat's bulge squeezes his hand so hard that it hurts, and he groans softly. He leans his head back, useless horns digging into the blankets, and twists his fingers around his length to pump it properly.

"Holy shit." Dave sounds absolutely wrecked, and it sends another hot thrill through Karkat to know that he did that; even after finishing, Dave is turned on just watching him. "Did you like that? Is praise what you're into?"

Even now, it's too embarrassing to admit aloud, so Karkat just nods. No one has ever said that to him before. It's too much — too much for him to explain, too much to think about, too much to even feel.

All Karkat knows is that he's spent his whole life trying desperately to be good enough for someone, anyone, and now he finally is. And it wasn't even hard.

He's crying now, which is humiliating, but Karkat is too burnt out inside to feel it. He focuses on the sensations in his bulge instead, dragging his claws down the curling length to rip a warble of pleasure out of his throat.

Even though he must be confused and at least a little bit worried, Dave doesn't ask questions. "You look so fucking pretty, Karkat. I wish that you could see yourself the way that I see you. Maybe we should install a mirror above my bed so that you can see yourself, all red and squirming and moaning." He makes a soft noise, low in his throat. "Karkat, fucking hell… I wanna touch you so badly."

Before he can convince himself that it's a terrible idea, Karkat nods. "Do it," he gasps. "Finger me." The stimulation on his bulge is good, but it's not going to be enough. And Karkat wants to cum if it's the last thing that he does.

"What—? Are you sure?" Dave asks, actually leaning back.

Karkat swallows a growl. As turned on as he is, he can't be frustrated with Dave for being so considerate and thoughtful. "Dave, put your fingers in my nook. I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it," he whines, voice cracking.

Dave doesn't need to be told a third time. He takes a moment to figure out where Karkat's entrance is — as soaked as his thighs are, Karkat is certain that his nook is drowning — and then pushes a single finger in. Karkat takes it with only a soft groan, his nook clenching down around it. He's so wet that he barely feels the insertion.

His reaction makes Dave shiver. "Oh, goddamn… This is the hottest thing I've ever seen. Karkat, you're so— Incredible. You're doing a fantastic job, you're so good, so relaxed, just look at you, how fucking handsome you are." Dave reaches his free hand between his own legs and, realizing what he must be doing, Karkat feels a rush of heat flush his entire body so intensely that it leaves him dizzy. "You want a second finger, baby?"

It's all Karkat can do just to nod. Everything is a blur of want and good and more. "Please," he manages, all but begging.

Two is enough that Karkat can actually feel it, and he rolls his hips as best he can back against Dave's hand. The stretch doesn't hurt, like he feared that he would. He's wet enough that Dave's fingers just feel full, and the wet, sloppy sound that his nook makes every time Dave thrusts forward has Karkat moaning.

"Is that good?" Dave asks, sounding just a bit insecure. "Tell me what I have to do to get you there."

Except Karkat isn't thinking about his finish suddenly. He wants to ask if this is really good for Dave. Isn't the alien anatomy strange to him? Doesn't he feel the least bit awkward? Or maybe Dave's hand is getting tired or he's losing interest or Karkat's noises are more funny than arousing.

"I—" Karkat stops stroking his bulge. He swallows the questions in his throat — because he knows the answers, he just has to believe them — and instead says, "Curl your fingers up— upwards."

Dave pauses his thrusts, and Karkat can feel his knuckles flush with the lips of his nook. It makes his bulge writhe in his grip. With his fingers buried as deep as he can get them, Dave obediently curls them up against Karkat's walls.

"Like that?" Dave gives him a questioning look.

"No." Karkat shakes his head, adjusting his hips. He can feel Dave's fingers, but they aren't particularly pleasurable in that spot. "A little lower. Mm, more center? Higher… Aah!"

A groan is ripped from Karkat's throat as Dave gracelessly jams his fingers into the spot right behind Karkat's bulge. It's intense — it doesn't hurt, and it doesn't exactly feel good, but it puts incredible pressure on Karkat's pelvis, and he grinds into the sensation desperately.

"Sorry, sorry…" Dave shifts his hand back a little and tries again. This time, when he rubs that spot, he's gentler and Karkat's leg twitches as he exhales shakily.

It feels like a deep, pleasurable massage. Karkat has fingered himself before and found that spot himself, but it feels different when Dave is the one doing it. He can get a much better angle and put more force into it. Having that spot rubbed already feels nice, but then Dave rocks his fingers out and fucks them back in, and Karkat moans.

"Oh, shit! Dave, don't stop, please don't stop…!" Karkat clutches the blankets so tightly that they tear beneath his claws. It feels so good, and it's so much, his nook is dripping a puddle beneath his ass and soaking the bed.

That same pressure from before begins to build every time that Dave fucks against that spot. Karkat doesn't think. He doesn't worry about his disgustingly malnourished and developmentally-stunted body on display for someone as beautiful as Dave, he doesn't pause to wonder if he's making the right noises, he doesn't even think about the pleasure, because all Karkat has to do is feel it. He hikes his leg up, bending the knee towards his chest. Before he can ask for more, Dave shifts back a bit, and the stretch when he pushes a third finger in is delicious. Karkat had no idea that sex could feel this good.

And he's not stupid — he knows that it only feels good because Dave is the one doing it. He's so attentive and considerate and patient and Karkat loves him.

"I love you," Karkat says, his voice breathy, and it's the easiest thing in the world. "I love you, Dave, fuck, I love you so much, I love you, I love you…"

Dave giggles. Actually giggles, and it's got to be up there with his moans and his mumbled song lyrics on Karkat's list of Favorite Dave Strider Sounds. "I know. I love you, too, Karkat." His gaze is soft and adoring, focused entirely on Karkat's face. "Are you getting close?"

He is, but then Karkat feels a flash of irritation. The pressure between his legs keeps building, but it never feels like it's reaching a peak. He's familiar with the feeling — most times, when he did masturbate, he was never actually able to finish. It feels like that now. And Karkat will be damned if he and Dave are both going to do all of this work just to not cum right at the very end.

"I am. But…" Karkat makes a face, and Dave pauses his thrusting. "It's not enough, I think." He growls in frustration. "This is so stupid. What more am I supposed to do?"

There's a sharp pain on his inner thigh, and Karkat lets out a yelp that turns into a moan as Dave sucks hard. Troll skin is hard to bruise, but Dave might have just managed it, pulling back with a soft pop only once he's certain that there's going to be a hickie on the inside of Karkat's thigh.

"Don't get mad at yourself. Remember what I said about trying too hard?" Dave rubs the spot that he bit with his thumb, then bites again, lighter but higher up. Karkat finds himself spreading his legs that much wider. "Can I taste you?"

"What?" Karkat jolts, staring at Dave between his legs incredulously. His face flushes — as if he wasn't glowing already. "Why would you—? That's so—" He struggles for words and then, at last, manages, "Yes."

He's already breaking quadrants by being in every single one with Dave. Karkat might as well throw cultural norms out the window and enjoy himself — it's not like Dave has sharp teeth, anyway.

"Just relax for me, baby." Dave rubs Karkat's inner thighs, finally continuing to move his fingers. "Fuck," he whispers when Karkat moans softly. "It's so unbelievable to me that you can't see how hot you are. You're so beautiful. Just absolutely gorgeous, Karkat, shit…"

"Shut up," Karkat says breathlessly, praying that Dave never stops talking.

"I'm serious!" When Dave laughs, it's warm and soft. "I mean, I've looked at porn before, but I don't think anything that was available on the internet could compare to you."

He can't take the open adoration in Dave's eyes, so Karkat leans his head back to stare at the ceiling instead and pretend that he's not grinning like an idiot. "I thought you wanted to do something else with your mouth?" He prompts, nudging Dave with his heel.

Instead of a witty quip or another flirtatious comment, Dave drops his gaze to Karkat's bulge and, without hesitation, runs his tongue up the length. The noise that Karkat makes is not erotic — his throat spasms as he tries to squeak and groan at the same time. He feels Dave chuckle against the base of his bulge, and if the feeling of Dave's lips there weren't so appealing, Karkat would have kicked him for it. The second swipe of Dave's tongue erases that thought, as well as Karkat's ability to think in general. Now that the initial surprise of the sensation has faded, Karkat moans loudly, doing his best not to writhe as Dave works his mouth and jaw. He's immediately all-in, going down on Karkat's bulge like he's trying to suck it dry.

It's not a graceful blowjob at all. Dave keeps slowing as his jaw tires and choking whenever he attempts to suck on the tip, but the sensation of his lips and tongue combined with his fingers hitting that spot more than makes up for how messy it is.

Karkat is sure that he's making his ugliest noises yet, but it's hard to care. He hikes his leg up and out of the way, the other one over Dave's shoulder, and hears his own voice chanting, "Yes, Dave, just like that, right there, don't stop, I love you, I love you, please—"

The hot pressure behind his bulge flutters. Karkat does his best not to focus on it. If he focuses on it, he knows that it will slip away. He lifts his head up instead, thinking of nothing except the sight of Dave between his legs, Dave's face covered in candy-red cum, Dave's other hand jerking himself off in tandem with Karkat's nook getting fingered, the way that he moans around Karkat's bulge, still trying to choke himself on it, and—

Dave glances up at him, and that's what does it. The look in his eyes is so destroyed, overcome with lust and love, and Karkat cums with a cry. He couldn't have asked for a bucket even if he wanted to. His legs twitch uncontrollably, his hips spasming, and Dave gags as Karkat's bulge and nook both gush with cum.

Later, Karkat is sure that he'll feel bad about the mess, but he can't feel anything but content as he lays there, heaving for breath and enjoying his afterglow. His thighs continue to clench and his nook aches now that it's empty as Karkat watches Dave attempt to lick the cum off of his face. He does it without even hesitating, too — if Karkat hadn't just finished, the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean would have gotten him off again.

As it is, though, Karkat shudders in delight as Dave cleans his hand and jerks himself off a second time. Dave finishes much faster than he did the first time, adding to the mess on the bed between them with a throaty groan.

There are several moments where neither of them moves. The only sound in the room is the two of them trying to catch their breath. Then Dave smiles, and Karkat finds himself laughing.

"What's so funny?" Dave asks through giggles of his own as he grabs Karkat's arm. With some tugging, he coerces Karkat into moving away from the stained part of the sheets. They settle down on a dry part of the mattress and Karkat lays his head on Dave's chest, nudging the underside of his chin with his horns.

"Nothing." A purr starts in Karkat's chest, and he doesn't even feel ashamed for such a pale vocalization after the most romantic moment of his life. "I'm just relieved, I think? Happy." He tilts his head to press a kiss to Dave's cheek, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "That, and your mattress is definitely ruined," Karkat adds.

"What? No, it's not. We just gotta wash the blanket—" Dave attempts to illustrate his point by kicking the blanket off but, sure enough, the sheets beneath them are soaked in red cum, too. He stares at the mess for a second, then Dave sighs. "Think anyone will ask questions if I alchemize a new mattress?"

Karkat has done an admirable job of not laughing, but he can't hold it in anymore. He bursts out laughing, and it's really not that funny, but he's so happy and content and in love, and Karkat doesn't care at all if he's laughing way too hard at something stupid. Dave attempts to scowl at him, but then his lips start to twitch and Dave is joining in on the laughter.

He's so beautiful. Karkat is dizzy with affection. It's hard to kiss while laughing and grinning like idiots, but he wraps his arms around Dave's neck and smushes their lips together anyway. Dave does his best to return the kiss, still shaking with laughter, and they kiss again and again and again as their laughter slowly winds down.

"I love you," Karkat says.

"I love you, too," Dave replies, pressing his lips to Karkat's temple. "You were so good. I'm really proud of you."

Even as Karkat blushes, he can't entirely hold back his insecurities. "Are you sure? You're not just saying that, are you?" He asks as he worries his bottom lip between his fangs. He doesn't want to constantly be in need of reassurance, but—

Well. It's nice that he doesn't have to worry about that around Dave. He's already seen Karkat at his lowest — there's little that Karkat could do or say to ruin Dave's perception of him.

Dave, the endlessly patient idiot that he is, doesn't seem the slightest bit annoyed about having to repeat himself. "Yeah, dude. Of course I'm sure."

The silence between them is easy and comfortable. Karkat is still sort of having trouble processing what just happened. They actually had sex. They made love. It was difficult in some places, sure, but it was also wonderful. Just being close to each other is such a fantastic thing.

Even now, as they cuddle, Karkat is a little bit obsessed with the way that Dave's skin feels against his. He runs his claws lightly down Dave's arm and side, rubbing his hip and nuzzling into his pectorals. Dave's hands are equally as busy, running through Karkat's hair and massaging his horns and tracing the curve of his neck.

"I'm proud of you, too," Karkat murmurs. "You were so hot, Dave. And you were really good to me. You're always so good to me." He pauses, then adds. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You deserve to be treated with basic fucking respect," Dave retorts, his tone leaving no room for argument. Not that that's ever stopped Karkat before.

He's swelling, suddenly, with the need for Dave to understand. Karkat pushes himself up, keeping one hand on Dave's chest because he's not ready to let go of that contact yet. "No, you don't get it," he insists. "Dave, this sort of thing doesn't happen on Alternia. I was born a freak, but then I made it worse on myself with my quadrant-blending bullshit. I thought that if I just tried harder — if I trained, if I learned everything about quadrants, if I fell into line — then, somehow, things would work out. I'd be…" Karkat searches for the right word.

Dave has that painfully empathetic look on his face again. "Happy?" He supplies.

Karkat is hesitant to agree, because that sounds so pathetic, but he slowly nods. "Yeah," he admits, voice small. "I didn't realize how fucking miserable I was on Alternia because I had nothing else to compare it to. I know this probably sounds stupid to you, given that your society is as soft as a wrigglers' skull, but no one has ever cared about me before. Not like this. No one on Alternia would ever be so patient or understanding or careful, and I…" Karkat has to stop to blink away the dismay fluid in his eyes. He is not going to cry again today. "I need you to understand what I mean when I say "thank you," Dave. You've seen me at my most vulnerable — emotionally and physically — and it never made you think less of me. That means everything to me. You mean everything to me."

It must be the hormones of post-sex that has Karkat talking like this. Ordinarily, he's able to swallow these thoughts, half-formed as emotions that sting in his chest. But Karkat is tired of running and hiding and never saying what he means. Whatever silly sense of pride he has, it's not more important than Dave is.

The look on Dave's face is well-worth Karkat's vulnerability. Is there a word stronger than love? It doesn't feel anywhere close to adequate.

"I… I think that I get it. Sorta," Dave says slowly. He reaches up, entangling their fingers where Karkat's hand still rests above his blood pusher. "Human society didn't kill you for that shit, but people were still assholes to each other. Genuine love seemed pretty rare to me. Even when I was a kid, I'd see married couples out and about or online or in movies and wonder why they'd be together when they clearly weren't happy. And with you, I—" Here, Dave pauses. Karkat says nothing — he would be willing to wait sweeps. Dave looks down at their clasped hands as he continues, "I don't… I don't feel like I need to put on a show around you, you know?" A smile creeps onto Dave's face. "You take care of me. You don't care if I'm "weak" or make fun of me for being sensitive and uncool. No one's ever done that for me before." He gives up on fighting it, and the grin on Dave's face is as sad as it is brilliant. "Thank you."

There's so much more that Karkat could say. He doesn't understand why Dave loves him. What did he ever do to earn it? Karkat knows that he isn't special. He doesn't have any idea why someone like Dave loves someone like him. Surely, Dave's friends have treated him well over the years? Is it that special?; that unheard of for him? He wants to reassure Dave that he deserved better growing up. If he were better with words, he could make some grand declaration about how everyone in Dave's life must be an idiot to not see how special he is.

A thousand thoughts run through Karkat's head, but he only has one that matters.

As he lays back down, getting comfortable with his head on Dave's chest and their legs tangled together, Karkat says, "I love you."

He's still holding Dave's hand. Slowly — deliberately — Dave brings their hands to his mouth and kisses the back of Karkat's, staring at him with a smitten little smile the whole time. "I love you, too," he whispers into Karkat's skin; like a secret, like a memory, like a promise.

What else can Karkat do in response except kiss him?