
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/217244.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Dave_Strider, Dave_Strider/Karkat_Vantas, John_Egbert/Karkat
      Vantas, John_Egbert/Dave_Strider/Karkat_Vantas
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Karkat_Vantas, Dave_Strider
  Additional Tags:
      Tentabulges, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Xenophilia, Frottage, Hand_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-06-30 Completed: 2012-10-02 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 5685
****** Three Is Company ******
by PickledDeath
Summary
     "It might not be cool to have your panties all fucking knotted up in
     juice soaked uncomfortable-ness like this, but fuck it. You are
     filled with a righteous boyfriend rage and Karkat is about to feel it
     all over his face if he doesn't back off in about 2.5 milliseconds."
     A kinkmeme fill in which Dave shows Karkat what swagger really
     means."
Notes
     This is completely and totally a work of smut. It was one of the very
     first Homestuck fanfictions I ever wrote (the two previous having
     been deleted due to excess amounts of SHAME). So, you know. Sex.
     (I have no regrets.)
***** Chapter 1 *****
You are Dave Strider and you have your panties in a royal tizzy.
 
It might not be cool to have your panties all fucking knotted up and soaked
girl juices like this, but fuck it. You are filled with a righteous boyfriend
rage and Karkat is about to feel it all over his face if he doesn't back off in
about 2.5 milliseconds.
 
But, there he goes again. Leaning in close so that his stupid little nubby
horns are almost brushing against John's hair. John is saying something
innocent and adorable, as usual, and Karkat is blushing a shameless pink. What
a jerk. Who does he think he's coming on too?
 
I mean, sure, you and John have had no real physical relationship and you have
yet to crack your own cool veneer enough to actually admit your feelings to the
little guy, but that does not make it okay for Karkat to be as all up in John’s
grill as he is. After all of his trumpeting about how bad human/troll
relationships were you'd think he'd know how to toe the goddamn line.
 
You guess not. You guess you have to show him what for. You guess you’ll have
to invite him to a session of fisticuffs for the derp biologist's affections.
 
Resolving your determination for fisticuffs, you push yourself off of the table
you were leaning on while you were watching the two boys talk closely about
their shared taste in movies and you approach Karkat. Placing one hand on his
shoulder, you give him a push and send his little rolly computer chair spinning
a few feet away.
 
Karkat immediately turns an extremely predictable red shade under his ashy gray
skin and stands up, storming up to you, and doing his best to stand toe to toe
with you, the nigh untouchable coolkid. Too bad he's about a foot shorter than
you, so that you get to happily soak in the feeling of superiority as you stare
down into his face with an impassive expression.
 
"Hey, Dave! What the heck?" John says crossly from his seat to your right. You
don't look (you're much too busy lording your height over a still glaring
Karkat), but you can hear the pout in his voice. Karkat owes you an even bigger
apology for making you miss John's pout face with his stupid offended glaring.
 
"Yeah, Dave Human! What the hell is your problem!" Karkat barks up into your
face. You stare down at him impassively, though you raise one eyebrow slightly
at his gratuitous overuse of shout poles.
 
"You probably wouldn’t even know how to handle him," you mutter down into
Karkat's face, as you think of what a bumbling little ragamuffin of anti-love
he is and how epic his fail would be if he ever got together with John. He
probably would be blushing an indignant red and stumbling all over himself to
remember how trolls bedded one another in his ridiculous Rom Coms. And, then
John would probably be all patient and reassuring, causing more red flushed
flesh to be spread generously between the two of them. Et cetra.
 
As you imagine the two boys' attempts at bumbling sexy time, not only does
Karkat just about bust a nut telling you what a jerky pink puss face of a speck
of dirt you are, but little Dave perks up and takes notice.
 
Why, hello there, little guy! What are you doing up so early in this fic'?
 
Dave junior tells Dave senior that he is already most aroused just anticipating
what awesome things are about to go down right here at this very moment and
just wanted to let everyone know that he was up, at 'em, and ready to party.
Why, thank you, my good sir! Such enthusiasm is much appreciated.
 
Luckily, only John seemed to notice little Dave's new upright stature. The Heir
of Breath blushed a bright red and looked up into your face, only to see your
usual disenchanted visage. This only further confused the young man and pushed
him to keep his mouth shut. He was thinking that, maybe, it was one of those
freak puberty erections and that you might not have noticed yet. John smiled a
little to think that you could have uncool problems like that and graciously
stayed quiet to save your perceived pride.
 
But, you have no real pride. Just a reputation to uphold.
 
"What do you mean I wouldn't know what to do?! You wouldn't know what to do
with a bucket if it were strapped to your disfigured human reproduction
apparatus!" Karkat continued to scream into your face.
 
"Your mom wouldn't know what to do with all the mad buckets I would be filling
up all her shit," you retort confidently.
 
As Karkat sputters and rattles through his brain to remember what a 'mom' was,
you take the plunge. Little Dave is your pal and you would never leave him
hanging after all.
 
Putting one hand behind Karkat's head and the other on his waist, you pull the
momentarily staggered boy towards you, crushing your lips against his. He
tastes strange, not that you know what trolls (let alone other people) are
supposed to taste like. He doesn't taste like you, anyway. He tastes like old
paper and pennies. Dirty pennies that have seen better days. You don’t hate it.
 
At first he wiggles and struggles in your grasp. But, eventually, under the
careful ministrations of your tongue against his he begins to weaken and sag
against you even as you feel the heat of blood rush to his swollen lips and
heated cheeks.
 
John sounds a quick 'Eep!' from where he's sitting and you register him putting
a hand to his mouth, even as his blue eyes widen to the size of saucers. Well,
at least you have his attention.
 
You continue to play with Karkat's tongue, avoiding his sharp little teeth at
first, but eventually becoming daring enough to run your tongue over their
base. You find that his teeth, despite looking rather sharp, are not especially
so. While coming to points, their actual sharpness is not enough to do harm
unless pressure is applied to them. At least you don't have to worry about
tearing your mouth while you molest the shit out of him.
 
Eventually, you release the panting troll from your grip and wipe your mouth on
the back of your sleeve. John is looking back and forth between the two of you
with a strange expression on his face as Karkat and you stare each other down.
 
You smirk and look at John. "See, Karkles has no idea what to do with you. If
you want to get down and dirty, you should always do it with a pro," you
explain patiently, extending a hand to John, who takes it unconsciously.
 
His face has all the makings of a star struck Backstreet Boys fan.
 
Karkat makes some kind of frustrated sound from the background and, vaguely, it
registers that the sound was somewhere between indignant and whining.
Interesting.
 
But, not as interesting as the words marching out of John's mouth with an airy
breeze.
 
"O-oh. Thanks, Dave. That would be cool."
 
"Cool," you reply, glad that your solidly closed off emotional range doesn't
allow you to express elation.
***** Chapter 2 *****
You are Dave Strider and you are about molar deep in a face full of John
Egbert. You are not complaining.
 
When you ever so suavely whisked John away from Karkat’s grabby little hands,
you hadn’t expected anything further to develop. You were on the defensive, a
linebacker checking other players into walls, benches, and parked cars.
Because, that is how sports work. You weren’t expecting to ever get the ball.
You had just invested all of your stunted little heart into protecting it.
 
So, when John showed up in the doorway of the room you had declared as your own
on the dejected meteor laboratory that you were sharing with your fellow
aliens, you had never expected him to smile at you sheepishly and ask for your
professional guidance. In the ways of sucking face.
 
John is obviously heavily inexperienced in kissing. You are also greatly
inexperienced in kissing, but you’d rather not think about who might be the
source of the insane amount of slobber gracing your cheeks.
 
John’s breath is breaking hot and needy across your face. His teeth are
constantly in the way, but you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.
 
You can feel John’s hands trembling as they reach out to clutch at the front of
your shirt. You make it a point to steady your hands before you reach out and
smooth your hands over his abdomen. The muscles jump and shake a little at your
touch. John gasps into your mouth.
 
You might just die. You might just die from how ridiculously awesome your life
has become in the past two minutes.
 
Hesitantly, John pulls away from you and smiles bashfully.
 
“I, uh. I’m not that good, huh?” John laughs nervously, rubbing at his red and
swollen lips.
 
You are so glad that you still have your glasses on.
 
“Don’t worry about it, Bro,” you say slowly, trying to nonchalantly run the
back of your sleeve over your face. Whoever knew that making out was such messy
business? “You have a lot to learn, but this coolkid here has a degree in
fucking and a license to be a professional badass,” you say, as you press your
hand against John’s chest and slowly guide him to lying down on his back.
 
Sometimes, you sincerely wonder where this amazing bullshit you spout comes
from. It’s as if it just falls from the asses of douchebag angels, lands in
your mouth, and you projectile vomit all the fuck over the place.
 
John’s face gets even hotter at your response than it was before, if that’s
possible. You say a silent prayer to the smart aleck diarrhea angels watching
over your love endeavours.
 
With John laid out beneath you, dumbfounded, innocent, and completely
vulnerable, you can’t stop yourself from taking advantage of him. You lean down
and press your mouth against his neck. John follows quickly and tilts his head
back and to the side, exposing more of his pale neck to you and your voracious
mouth. You bite and suck all along the throbbing jumping veins in his neck. You
make sure to leave big suckle marks on his shoulders and the hollow of his
throat.
 
You keep your hands on John’s chest and enjoy the feeling of his stomach muscle
twitching with all his feels, the sensation of his spine rolling with each new
touch and bite, the expansion and decompression of his chest with each gasping
breath.
 
You are invested in this motherfucker. And, if this market crashes, fuck
everybody else. You’re jumping out the fifth story window.
 
Things begin to advance quickly and you’re just hoping that your pounding
pumping heart will be able to keep up with your dick’s debonair pace.
 
You continue to assault John’s neck as your hands lift off his torso and trail
down towards the top of John’s pants. You can feel the little motherfucker’s
body practically levitate off the mattress in anticipation. You have to bite
your tongue not to moan aloud at his show of enthusiasm.
 
Teasing, you instead tuck your fingertips under the hem of his pale blue shirt
and allow your fingers to follow the same trail that had taken down back up
John’s stomach. Your fingers are trembling as they lightly skim John’s skin,
but you’re rather sure he doesn’t notice considering how much his chest and
stomach are jumping and twitching. Eventually, your fingertips trail up to
John’s chest and trace ghostly circles around his nipples.
 
John is gasping for breath at this point and his hands are desperately grabbing
at the back of your shirt. You can feel the fabric stretching and John
straining to pull you down against him. You’re starting to think he’s going to
start hyperventilating soon. You’ve never heard him breathe so fast or so hard.
 
But, there’s some sadistic little part of you that doesn’t want to give him the
satisfaction he’s craving for, that wants him to continue begging with his eyes
and with his mouth. You know that you’ll eventually give in, so you don’t feel
so bad about the frustrated mewls that are sneaking their way out from the
depths of John’s throat.
 
Why hurry? You’d rather keep John trapped underneath you, yearning for you,
like this forever.
 
John obviously does not agree.
 
You’re busy trailing teasing touches down John’s body and licking hot stripes
up his neck when his cute mewls turn into sincerely frustrated angry growls.
You pause in your ministrations. You didn’t know that John’s voice could even
go that low. Why, had your precious Heir finally hit puberty at the ripe old
age of sixteen? You are so proud of him.
 
You have no time to take a leisurely stroll down sarcastic reminiscence avenue,
as John’s angry growling has turned into angry movement. With one surprisingly
strong roll of his hips, John pushes you up off of him, tips you onto your back
on the bed, and comes back up to straddle you.
 
John presses his hands against your chest before leaning down with a cross
expression on his face.
 
“Dave,” he growls. You try your best to suppress a shiver at the guttural way
he said your name, but you’re pretty sure you failed. “Stop being such a jerk,”
John rumbles before leaning down to claim your mouth in a devastating kiss.
 
What a crazy awesome motherfucking wizard. Magic is obviously awesome. You are
so glad that it is real.
 
His tongue is in your gaping mouth in seconds and he’s doing all kinds of
ridiculous things with that tongue. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you
know that you were supposed to be the professional. But, John is kind of
showing you what for right in your own bed. You can not find it in you to
complain.
 
John starts to slide his hips back so that this dick is pressed flush against
yours (except, you know, for the layers of clothing between them). You gasp
like a dainty little fairy princess and start to have issues controlling your
breathing. You’re starting to like this flipping magic.
 
“John, are you in here?” you hear a familiar scratchy voice ask about 2.4
seconds before Karkat waltzes around the corner and immediately freezes in
place like a deer about to be run over by a fourteen wheeler barreling down the
interstate.
 
Your mind is cloudy, but you do register some extreme disappointment. You were
really hoping to develop this little encounter into the kind of thing that the
editorials of ‘Hot Boy Wang Monthly’ are made out of. But, no. The stupid
little nubby horns had to shove his thick think pan in your door at the exact
wrong minute. What a fucking cock block.
 
“John, what are you doing in here!” Karkat screeches, his face finally molding
itself into a perfect image of rage and indignation.
 
You visibly flinch and refuse to type his words in all caps. Just to be a dick.
 
“Karkat, stop yelling!” John exclaims from above you. “Come here,” he demands,
reaching a hand out towards Karkat while his other remains on your chest.
 
… What?
 
Karkat seems as dumbfounded by the command as you are.
 
John’s expression becomes even more firm and he does a little bounce that makes
you gasp at the contact. You imagine John would have stomped his foot if he
hadn’t been busy grinding his dick on you.
 
“Karkat, come here,” John reiterates.
 
Karkat’s face works as he seems to consider the proposition. Eventually, he
seems to settle on being complacent to John’s whims for once and shuffles his
feet toward the two of you.
 
John takes Karkat’s hand in his own and pulls him forward until he’s forced to
kneel on the bed beside you, making you feel even more uncomfortable than
before, if at all possible.
 
“I’m just about done with the two of you fighting all the time,” John pouted.
 
Karkat opened his gaping maw to snap something out, but John’s look stopped
him.
 
“You two are going to learn to get along, if it’s the last thing you do!” John
exclaimed.
 
You think that your best wet dream has just turned into your worst nightmare.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING! Tentabulges.
     Because, I do what the fuck I want to do.
Your stomach has been doing uncomfortable backflips from the moment that Karkat
walked in on your unlikely rendezvous with John. Despite how much you harsh on
Karkat, you don’t really hate him. He might be adorable if he wasn’t screaming
profanities every second. Just, you know, you don’t want him around while your
dick is hard and rubbing up against your teenage male love interest’s thigh.
 
“John, I want absolutely nothing to do with whatever fucked up human mating
ritual you are engaging in right now. In fact, I want nothing to do with any of
your human rituals,” Karkat screeched, already looking noticeably ruffled as
John pulled him towards the bed and sat him firmly down beside you.
 
Karkat sits down with his back to you. He is leaning forward to listen closely
to whatever nonsense John is spouting and you suddenly realize that Karkat
tucks his shirt into his pants. What the fuck? How did you never notice that
before. Just when you thought the little turd couldn’t get any cooler. What a
badass lady’s man.
 
You notice this fine display of manliness, because you see that his shirt has
been pulled out of his pants in the back. When Karkat leaned forward, the shirt
must not have been long enough to stretch across the sharp planes of his back.
His pants are having issues trying to keep ahold of his tiny little bony ass,
as well. So, you (Dave Strider, in case anyone momentarily forgot) are getting
quite an eyeful of the top of Karkat’s backside.
 
It says something about how numb you are to awkward situations that the first
thing you’re amazed about is that trolls even have asscracks. Secondly, you
take warm note that Karkat has quite the shapely rear. It’s being pushed up and
together like some floozy’s finely crafted cleavage.
 
John and Karkat are having a very serious conversation about what John and Dave
were doing and how badly John needs Karkat to accept the two of them. And, is
John trying to maneuver Karkat into a three way? Whatever. This ass crack is
far more wonderful.
 
“Dun duh, dun duh...” you hum, turning your hand into a terrifying shark as it
swims its way through the air. “Dun duh, dun duh,” you say, the shark slowly
circling its prey.
 
“Dave, what are you doing?” John stops mid-sentence to ask.
 
But, it’s too late. The shark already has its prey in its sights and its not
about to be distracted now.
 
“Dun Duh, Dun Duh, Dadah!” and with a final exclamation of anticipative doom,
you slide your flattened hand between Karkat’s asscheeks in the most classic
credit card of all existence. Your dead human bros would be most proud.
 
Karkat screeches and jumps about a mile in the air, his hands scrabbling to
protect his shapely rear.
 
“WHAT THE HELL!” he yells. You feel it’s okay to capitalize his scream, as it
seemed appropriately louder than his normal yelling to dictate some caps up in
this bitch.
 
“All shall fear the shark,” you reply, snaking your hand through the air.
 
John snorts.
 
All is well with the world.
 
“YOU MOTHERFUCKING KNOB FUMBLING SKIN SACK!” Karkat screams, launching himself
at you. Before he can get a good grasp of you with his nubby little gray
fingers, you use his own force to toss him on his side beside you. You then
proceed to roll over on top of Karkat like a bag of flour, John obligingly
jumping off of your slightly softening dick to accommodate your counter-attack.
 
Despite being one of the skinniest motherfuckers around, you’re still a good
twenty or thirty pounds heavier than Karkat. He screams and bucks and generally
makes a ruckus, but you just continue to be a cool motherfucker just laying on
this infinitely fresh scream-y pillow. So scream-y and wiggly.
 
John starts to laugh loudly and launches himself on top of you. Okay. This
would be cool if you didn’t have organs.
 
“Dog pile!” John calls happily.
 
Karkat makes a kind of whimpering sound and you cough to try and force your
lungs open.
 
“John,” you say, “I kind of can’t breathe.”
 
“Oops!” John exclaims, rolling off of you.
 
You take a deep breath and relish the taste of oxygen for a moment. It’s nice
to have organs.
 
“John, get this monkey -” you hear Karkat start to form an insult when it’s
muffled halfway through. Curious, you roll over to get an eye full.
 
John is deep mouth kissing Karkat. Right there. Right in front of your face.
And, Karkat is not complaining in the least.
 
You idly wonder if you should be complaining. Should you come down on their
face sucking parade with a mountain of feels? You wonder if you can even
effectively pull off the jealous boyfriend schtick, considering your face has
such a hard time doing anything greater than a nervous tick. After considering
it, you decide not to do the jealousy thing. Let’s not go down the teenage girl
route. Let’s go down the teenage boys gone wild route. You’re probably not
going to get to college anyway. Might as well let the hormones fly.
 
Never one to be outdone, you stretch your head up to start to lick at Karkat’s
neck. You feel his body stiffen under yours and hear him moan into John’s
mouth. John groans back appreciatively.
 
Now that you have someone other than yourself to compare him too, you’re quite
sure that Karkat tastes different than most humans. His skin feels leathery and
dry against your lips and tongue and he still tastes somewhat coppery, though
it’s less so than his mouth. His skin is also loose and somewhat stiff. You
image that it’s the texture that someone severely dehydrated would have.
 
You take a handful of Karkat’s shirt and yank it from the top of his pants
(such a fucking badass). Karkat tilts his hips back in reaction. You start to
move your hands up Karkat’s chest.
 
It feels alien, as stupidly obvious as that is to say. There is a lot more
ribcage and a lot less muscle than either you or John have. His ribs start low,
you can feel some of the lowest ones around his waist. Feeling lower, you can
detect more bones. It is possible that his rib cage runs from his hips all the
way to his clavicle? Your clever hands start to explore.
 
Karkat has no nipples. You’re starting to classify him as some kind of reptile
anyway, so that’s not that surprising. His chest has the same general shape as
a humans, but there are still a lot more bones that you can’t identify or
rationalize. Your hands are skirting along his sides and your mouth is attached
firmly to his throat when Karkat suddenly sits up.
 
“Will you stop poking at me like some kind of lab experiment?” he snaps, his
lips shining and his chest heaving.
 
John looks up from the bed surprised, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
 
“I can’t help it, dude. It’s interesting,” you reply with a shrug.
 
That strange red tint starts to show under Karkat’s gray skin again. You
suppose that this is his version of blushing.
 
“Whatever!” Karkat grumbled. “Let’s see you, then,” he demands, grabbing the
edge of your shirt and tugging. Deciding to be nice, for once, you allow Karkat
to pull your shirt up over your head and then enjoy his expression as he takes
in your bare chest.
 
His mouth sort of falls open and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. His eyes
keep flitting from your nipples, to your bellybutton, and generally anywhere
else they can look at you.
 
You notice that John is giving you an appreciative look from over Karkat’s
shoulder. You pull your shoulders back and try your best to look like you
notice. John smiles at you and pulls off his shirt from behind Karkat, but the
troll doesn’t notice.
 
“Excuse me, but I’m up here,” you joke, pointing to your face.
 
John giggles and presses himself up against Karkat’s back, making the troll
nearly jump out of his skin. But, it seems to shake him out of whatever
stupefied state he seemed to have fallen into.
 
“God, you guys really are aliens,” he groans, visibly sagging back into John
who has wrapped his arms affectionately around Karkat’s middle.
 
“That’s right. We’re as motherfucking extraterrestrial as it gets,” you
deadpan, crawling forward to nuzzle up against Karkat’s neck again. It’s one of
the strangest and most familiar tastes you’ve ever experienced, but you can’t
quite put your finger on what Katkat tastes like. The closest you can come to
is a nasty old bike tire that’s been left out in the rain for a few days.
 
With that imagery in mind, maybe you don’t want to chew on his neck even if he
does sound awfully nice when you do it.
 
You, instead, give the heavy breathing Karkat a quick peck on the cheek while
your hands make quick work of his pants.
 
“Hey!” Karkat exclaims breathlessly, putting a staying hand over yours.
 
He and you share a look for a long moment. Finally, you sigh and give him
another quick peck on the lips while John nuzzles his hair.
 
“It will be okay,” John croons.
 
“Yeah,” you reprise. “I mean, nothing could cement our xenophilia more than
this,” you say with a grin as you give Karkat’s pants a sharp yank.
 
You pull his pants free and down in one deft movement while Karkat gasps and
John generally does the loving boyfriend thing; kissing his knuckles and
nuzzling into his dark curls.
 
You, however, are doing your best not to think about hentai. It sounds weird in
this context, but you’re pretty sure you just saw a little red tentacle wave
hello to you from the depths of Karkat’s pants.
 
Why, hello there little Karkat. You are a tentacle monster. Very nice to meet
you. Perhaps you’re being a racist (xenist?), but you’re not going to turn ten
feet long, one foot thick, and wear me like a condom, right? Usually the
tentacles just knock out the boys and go seek out cuter asian girls in mini
skirts. You hope that Karkat’s genetalia is a Japanese tentacle monster. At
least those are predictable.
 
John seems not to have noticed what Karkat’s nethers are made out of yet, so
you take the time to explore again. You are nothing if not a curious
motherfucker.
 
You dangle your index finger teasingly above the half-shadowed writhing red
mass in Karkat’s pants. You are still mentally debating with yourself about
whether you really want to touch it or not when one of the little ends shoots
out and grabs your finger tight.
 
You gasp in surprise, Karkat gasps in ecstasy, and John looks down and squeaks
a little.
 
While Karkat pants heavily and stares at the ceiling, John and yourself share a
knowing glance.
 
Tentacles. Really.
 
Sighing a little, you pull Karkat’s pants further away from his genitalia.
After the troll’s hesitance and the way John and you kind of swept him up
(somewhat against his will) into your own delinquent affair, you can’t possibly
wimp out now. Neither of you can.
 
Taking your hands, you slip them between Karkat’s pants and his ass. You feel
him press into the touch and give both of his pert little cheeks a firm
squeeze. This pushes a breathy moan that helps to give you the confidence to
move forward.
 
You slide your hands down the back side of Karkat’s legs, pulling his pants
down with them. You continue all the way to the back of his ankles, at which
point you’re forced to pull off Karkat’s socks and shoes as well. You look up
into Karkat’s fevered eyes and are a little bit startled at how attractive he
looks. Well, the two of them look.
 
Karkat’s eyes are warm and wet, his mouth is open and panting, and his
genitalia has unfolded between his legs into a red wet writhing mass of
differently shaped tentacles. John is pressed behind him, looking at you hotly.
He has a conspiratorial gleam in his eye that you like and, even though his
hands and mouth are dedicated solely to Karkat, his eyes stay trained on you.
 
Need you reiterate? Hot.
 
You climb slowly back up Karkat’s body, getting as much into his space as
possible without touching him. You hover your hand over his crotch teasingly.
 
“Wow, Karkles,” you chuckle. “Is that an octopus in your pants or are you just
happy to see me?” you ask.
 
John has the decency to bury his face in the back of Karkat’s neck, but not
enough to not laugh.
 
“F-fuck off,” Karkat mutters, though his eyebrows are quirked just enough to
indicate that he’s unsure. Distressed?
 
Can’t be having that. Fuck up the orgy mood much? You don’t think so.
 
Allowing your face to be pulled into a cocky smirk, you press the palm of your
hand against Karkat’s, uh, bulge? You don’t really have any idea what you’re
doing, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Karkat.
 
He arches his back with a wanton moan and presses his crotch against the flat
of your hand. He begins to grind his hips against your hand, the long writhing
tentacles that make up his genitals are twitching and dripping red smelly
liquid all over you. The smell of ozone starts to permeate the air. Fucking
aliens.
 
“Oh, wow,” John breathes from behind Karkat. You feel, rather than see, a
shiver run up Karkat’s spine at the words.
 
Your smirk pulls a little wider and you crawl up to lick a hot strip up
Karkat’s neck and face. You enjoy feeling the tremor that sends through his
whole body.
 
“Karkat, I’m surprised,” you breathe against the shell of his ear. He groans
and tosses his head towards John who is happy to pepper his sharp features with
chaste kisses. “You had us all fooled into believing you were a pure maiden of
restraint, but just look at the way you’re dripping all over my bed. Don’t
think that I’m going to be sleeping in this wet spot, let me tell you.”
 
Karkat attempts to give you a withering look, but it fails to hold its desired
ire what with the thick blush across his cheeks and his blown pupils.
 
John laughs and leans over Karkat’s shoulder to catch your caustic mouth in a
kiss. You dive into his mouth with your tongue like a dying man in a desert
dives into an oasis. You begin to twist your fingers into Karkat’s bulge.
Karkat groans appreciatively from between the two of you and tilts his hips up
toward you.
 
Karkat is dripping wet. You can literally feel the thick liquid gathering and
running down your arm. You allow your fingers to burrow further into the
tendrils of his bulge while your tongue carefully explores John’s mouth. Your
fingers eventually hit what seems like a pubic bone. Karkat’s sounds become
more enthusiastic and you can tell that he really likes it when you rub your
fingertips against the slick spongy skin stretched between the tentacles.
 
You continue to press and rub between the tentacles, slowly moving your fingers
lower as Karkat croons and mewls his appreciation. Eventually, your fingers
slip out from the little forest of tentacles and slide down into a little
divot. The skin there is especially warm and wet. It’s spongy and porous and
you try to be especially careful with your fingernails.
 
As soon as your fingers reach the little divot Karkat hows and lifts his hips
fully off the bed. You jump back from both him and John in surprise.
 
Karkat reaches out behind him and clutches John who squeezes him in return.
Karkat’s whole body shudders and twitches and John carefully guides him through
with whispered words of encouragement and kisses along his neck and ear.
 
You can’t help but to be a little jealous. Your dick is currently getting stage
three zipper burn from inside your jeans. You never thought Xeno dick could be
so hot. But, now seems like a bad time to whip it out.
 
Karkat’s orgasm slowly fades and he allows himself to lowered back down into
the dark spot he’s made on your comforter. You’re glad that you have a red
blanket over your bed, so at least the little puddle Karkat left isn’t as
noticeable as it could be.
 
Reluctantly, you pull your mind away from the mess on your bed and look up at
Karkat. He’s snuggled in close to John who is still patiently petting and
comforting him. John catches your eye for a moment and smiles. John subtly
crooks a finger in your direction and you lean forward into his space.
 
John smiles at you apologetically and you can feel your heart do a little two
step in your chest.
 
“Sorry,” he whispers, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Next
time?” John asks quietly.
 
Next time? Your mind reels with the thought of being able to do something like
this (like anything) with John again.
 
“Sure,” you whisper back hoarsely. Karkat twitches as he falls into a deep
slumber in John’s arms.
 
“If it’s any consolation, that was a rather impressive display of professional
prowess,” John chuckles.
 
If you weren’t Dave Strider, you would blush. But, you are Dave Strider, so the
warmth across your cheeks isn’t a blush. It isn’t.
 
Shut up.
 
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