
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/168926.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Rose/Doc_Scratch
  Character:
      Rose_Lalonde, Doc_Scratch
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, Xeno
  Collections:
      Claimed_Fills
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-03-10 Words: 1729
****** Inevitability ******
by Vector
Summary
     Rose confronts Doc Scratch in person. He knows exactly what he's
     doing. Written for the kink_meme.
"Welcome." Doc Scratch doesn't speak, as such. At least, Rose wouldn't describe
it as such. It's more like a subtle telepathy, noticeable if you're waiting for
it or if he announces himself with a more obvious communication when he begins
and finishes speaking. Something like a set of audible brackets, perhaps.
Fortunately it's easy enough to pay attention to when you're standing right in
front of him. But it still isn't speaking, it can't be, because—
"You do have a large cue ball for a head," Rose comments. She can't help
feeling it's incredibly inane even as she says it, but she supposes when you're
omniscient nearly all comments must be inane.
"Of course I do; I told you, I don't lie. Have some candy. Would you like to
verify anything else about my anatomy, now that we finally meet in person?"
Rose ignores the candy, as of course he must have known she would, and raises
her eyebrows. "As I recall, your other claim about your anatomy was that you
have no physical means of reproduction. Are you asking me to verify that? Did
you really just invite me to your room with candy and then offer to drop your
pants?"
"It would seem that I did," Doc Scratch responds. The absence of tone and lack
of facial cues doesn't give her anything more to work with than text had.
Fortunately she's well-practiced reading people even from that.
"This is ridiculous," she says after a moment. "You know exactly what you're
doing."
"That statement is nearly universally true," he says. There's still not much
tone to it, but there's no way for that not to come off smug.
"So why are you doing it? Why are you deliberately presenting yourself as a
predatory pedophile, only a white van away from personifying the stereotype?
Are you trying to put me off?"
"Not quite. 'Trying' implies that I have an uncertain chance of succeeding. I
never try. In this case, I know perfectly well that I will not succeed in truly
putting you off. You are a very clever and persistent girl." Doc Scratch's lack
of a face is still disconcerting—it's difficult to connect the body in front of
her to the voice in her head.
"So why make the attempt? Or whatever you want to call it." Rose doesn't
disguise her irritation.
"Because it's funny, I imagine. And because the comparison would be made
regardless of whether I drew deliberate attention to it or not."
"Would it?"
"Of course it would." Doc Scratch folds his arms neatly behind his back.
Somehow that clicks something in her perception—the neat suit and the arrogant
pose align with his personality in her mind, even with the strangeness of his
head.
"You said you're not attracted to me." Rose says, more hesitantly.
"And I am not, and cannot be. Not in that way."
"Then why?"
"That should be apparent by this point. It's not my attraction in question
here. It's yours."
Rose instinctively schools her face to blankness, but she can feel her cheeks
heating. She wonders for a split second if Doc Scratch can see it before
remembering that's a stupid question. Of course he doesn't need to.
"You find me to be very charming and intelligent," Doc Scratch continues
without waiting for a response from her. Not that she was going to provide one.
"An intellectual sparring partner who can best you. And of course more than a
little bit dangerous. All of which is entirely correct, and all of which you
find attractive. And for you, that attraction is sexual."
Rose swallows. "A gentleman would politely ignore an adolescent girl's absurd
crush on him. Instead you decided to go the creeper route?"
"It's absurd to hold me to any human standard of behavior. There was no
possible way for you to believe I hadn't noticed. Or known about it before the
fact, as the case may be. This method allowed you to confront the issue and its
inevitable implications directly. In addition, as I believe I mentioned: it was
funny."
Rose's lips quirk. "I guess it was. So what happens now that I've confronted it
directly?"
"Well, I am certainly capable of being a gentleman in other ways. What happens
next is up to you."
"But what I'm going to do is inevitable."
"Yes, it is."
"Is that an invitation?"
"Yes, it is."
Heart beating quickly, but high with the certainty that she can't make a wrong
step, Rose crosses the room to stand close to Doc Scratch. She slowly reaches
up to place her palms on his face—or where his face would be. The surface is
smooth and slightly warm under her hands. He remains disconcertingly still, and
this close she can see where the sphere blends seamlessly into his neck, just
above the collar of his well-fitting suit. It's bizarre—does he even eat or
breathe?
She can feel part of her mind reacting viscerally to the wrongness of it, but
somehow it doesn't seem to be talking to the part that's making her breath come
quickly and making her feel warm between her legs.
Trying to think of him as a creepy uncle hadn't really helped either. Rose
doesn't have any uncles, but if she did, they wouldn't be immortal, omniscient
beings from another universe.
Probably. It's always hard to tell with these things.
"Now," Doc Scratch says, just before she drops her hands to instead grip his
suspenders. She glares and shoves him, the smug bastard. Even though he
simultaneously predicted the move and prompted it he still stumbles when his
back hits his desk, his arms finally unfolding from behind his back for
balance. An act for her benefit, she supposes. And if he's willing to do
that...
"You have hands, at least," she says challengingly, and if it's a bit of a non
sequitur he's smart enough to take her meaning even if he wasn't omniscient,
especially when she punctuates it by straddling his thigh, her skirt riding up
slightly.
He steadies her hips. "I do. And I am quite skilled with them." And with that,
an immortal first guardian is pulling up the edge of her skirt, his smooth,
slightly-cool palm sliding to rest on the skin above her knee. If she was warm
before, she's on fire now, and the touch isn't enough. She presses closer,
lifting her knee and climbing half on top of him.
"I'm afraid that's one of those things that can't just say, even if you're
omniscient," Rose says, slightly breathless and not making any attempt at
keeping her voice even. "You'll need to prove it."
"It will be a pleasure," he says. He brushes back hair from her face and
caresses her jawline with his other hand as the first moves up her thigh, the
skin there so hot and sensitive that his light touch is exhilarating.
Even expecting it, it's still somehow a surprise when he slides his fingers
under the edge of her panties and applies pressure in a way that sends a bolt
of pleasure up her spine. She wonders if that's close to how he feels.
"I can't feel quite like that," he says, and Rose wonders if he's talking about
sexual pleasure or what she had been thinking about. Possibly both. "But it's
satisfying to see. All the more so close at hand in someone I've taken a liking
to."
"Stop flattering me," Rose manages. She barely restrains herself from pressing
needily into his hand.
"Never." His fingers deftly find their way between her folds to rub at her
clit, and she gasps and turns her head. She accidentally—or maybe not—catches
the tips of his fingers in her mouth. He takes advantage of it to brush at her
lips, and they tingle. She abruptly realizes that he can't kiss. So instead she
lets her mouth fall open again, licking the pads of his fingers. They're soft
and warm, but strangely textured, and they taste slightly synthetic, like
plastic and metal. It's not bad, though, and when he dips his fingers deeper
into her mouth she sucks on them and shivers.
His hand between her legs keeps moving, and after a minute or two she's no
longer sure quite what he's doing with it. Moving too fast for her brain to
parse, maybe. I type very quickly. It hardly seems important, though, as
whatever he's doing sends waves of pleasure through her. She loses track of
what she's doing for a minute, and notices only belatedly that she's let her
jaw fall slack, and his free hand has found its way under her t-shirt. When his
damp fingers reach her nipple, her supporting leg trembles and threatens to
give out. He shifts to take more of her weight.
She's sprawled out against him as he leans back on his desk, squirming under
his touch, when it occurs to her that he's known this was going to happen the
whole time. During all their conversations. What would be embarrassing under
other circumstances just makes her breath hitch in a needy sob, and his fast-
moving hand shifts its angle slightly and she crests the threshold of orgasm,
trembling and pressing herself against his chest. He holds her in place with an
arm around her waist.
The fog of pleasure clouds her mind for an interminable time, and even when she
manages to focus it takes Rose a long time to convince her legs that they need
to support her again. Eventually, though, she finally releases Doc Scratch's
suspenders and step back.
"Well." What can she even say now? "You certainly weren't lying."
"Thank you."
"And thank you." Rose tugs her shirt back into place. "For indulging me. Shall
we move on to the matter at hand?"
He straightens, and folds his arms once again behind his back. "We can do
whatever you like. This will be the last occasion we have like this, at least
for a while, but we still have quite some time."
Rose shifts her weight. Her panties are soaked through, and she's still
incredibly sensitive, so the brush of fabric as she moves causes sparks of
sensation. She's extremely tempted to make him do it all again. And he must
know that.
"Let's talk business," she says. Somehow it doesn't take any of the edge off.
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