
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/947154.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      The_Signless/Karkat_Vantas
  Character:
      The_Signless_|_The_Sufferer, Karkat_Vantas, The_Dolorosa
  Additional Tags:
      vantascest, Stockholm_Syndrome, Consent_Issues, Xeno
  Series:
      Part 3 of 'Cest_PWP
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-30 Words: 2016
****** Worship for His God ******
by keresWings
Summary
     Karkat gets landed back on Alternia, where the Signless finds him.
     His Ancestor induces Stockholm Syndrome, which makes Karkat view him
     as a god.
     Cue sex.
It's been five nights now, so far as you can tell. You had been sucked into
some strange portal concocted by Strider and Lalonde, and had landed face first
into the reddish Alternian mud. As shitty as this fucking place was for trolls
like you, you were kind of glad to be back. And then some fucking asshole had
snatched you and dragged you back to his hive. He sort of looked like you,
messy hair and stubby horns and sickles, not to mention the accents on his
clothes were the same bright cherry red of your blood. The adult tried to talk
to you, but you refused to listen and ended up screaming obscenities at him -
you know what happens to kidnapped teenagers, fuck you very much. When the big
Kanaya-lookalike adult had come in, you had officially flipped off the handle
and there was no way in the Furthest Ring you were leaving a forwarding
address, so they locked you in this windowless room.

He comes every night, sits outside the locked door and just fucking talks to
you. It's infuriating, and not even in a black way. You never say anything, but
horrorterrors damn you, you actually stop raging long enough to listen. He can
talk, you'll give him that. He tells you he's called the Signless, and he's got
bright red blood, just like you, although he doesn't know that. There weren't
any redblooded lusii, so the Dolorosa took him and fled to the surface from the
brooding caverns, which explains why the jadeblood looks so much like Kanaya -
she must be your Maryam's ancestor. Which makes this Signless dolt yours. Your
life just keeps getting better. You'd never really believed in ancestors, and
now that you've met yours, of course he would be the most un-Alternian piece of
shit to ever exist in the universe frog's asshole. No fucking wonder he hasn't
culled you yet. He's fucking sentimental. You give him about a week to live
before this Alternia's Grand Highblood snaps his fucking idiot neck.
Night ten. The food that he pushes through the slit in the door has really
improved. You’d say you’re grateful, but you don’t want to give the son of a
bitch anything. He insists on telling you his dreams for Alternia, which you
promptly inform him is horsebeast shit. He’s exclaiming in delight that you’ve
finally said something before you realize you broke your resolve to stay
silent. You spend the rest of his visit curled up on your cot, sulking.
Night twelve. You’ve taken to sitting by the door again as you eat and he
talks. He tells you about Neophyte Redglare and how she almost caught him, and
usually you’d have told him to stuff it up his nook by now, but you’ve started
believing his stories even though there is no way in hell a legislacerator
actually let a mutant live, but you guess they have a ~*history*~ or some shit,
even though Signless is apparently in flush with his Disciple - who the
bulgechafing fuck would stick around this guy, let alone follow his “teachings”
and pail him on a regular basis? Whatever. You push the now empty tray out the
door and he takes it and leaves. Now that you think about it, you’re lucky
nothing they’ve given you has been drugged. You’re grateful for that.
Night fifteen. Signless tells you he wants you to come out, but he doesn’t want
you hurting his mother. You’ve never heard of a mother outside of the humans
being all unproductively nostalgic which you never ever do when you miss
Crabdad, not at all, nope, not you. You take a deep breath and actually tell a
story of your own, tell the crazy Signless dude about the game, how you were
the leader of the red team, and your flush/pitch/pale/ash flipping for Terezi.
He's a good listener, you give him credit for that, and it's nice how he seems
to just get you, how sometimes you transcend the quadrant system despite your
best efforts.
Night eighteen, and he finally opens the door. You stand face to face with a
troll who looks scarily like you, except taller and with filled in eyes. You
mentally wince at the bright, unnatural red nestled in yellow sclera, but he's
nice enough, smiling wide and inviting. You're not sure what it is that makes
you step forward and hug him, but you do, and it's nice to feel warm, strong
arms encircle you back. He leads out to the nutriblock and you meet the Kanaya
adult again. She introduces herself as “the Dolorosa, although Signless here
calls me Mother, and I'd be delighted if you wanted to as well, darling.” No
harm in it, you suppose, indulging these weird-ass fuckers, so you say thanks,
Mom, when she brings you and Signless hot bowls of grub soup, and the way she
ruffles your hair is nice. Reminds you a bit of Crabdad, only way more
intimate. You decide you like it.
You scarf down the almost-too-hot soup in record time, and end up waiting
impatiently for Signless to finish. When he does, you're standing up from your
chair in an instant. You're impatient to go somewhere after being cooped up for
two and a half weeks, and Signless laughs and obliges you, giving you a tour of
the hive. It's small, but homely. He shows you the lounge block, the ablution
block, and points out his mother's respite block before taking you to his.
You're not surprised to end up here. You know the stories of adults who take in
pre-ascension kids, and you know exactly what's expected of you. But for some
reason, you don't think you'll mind. He's been really nice so far, so maybe
that'll continue into pailing. You take a deep breath and pull off your shirt.
Signless grabs your wrists gently yet firmly. “You don't have to, you know,” he
says, and you scoff.
“Of course I do. But, I sorta,” you look away, “want to.”
A small, pregnant pause. “Well then.” You can hear the smile in his voice and
suddenly his hands are on the waistband of your jeans, expertly undoing the
button and pulling down the fly. You never thought you'd experience someone who
felt warm to you – even the humans had cooler chroma than you did – but his
finger certainly is warm when it pushes up into your nook, making you squeak.
He chuckles, chest rumbling against your cheek (how did you end up pressed
against him?) as he slowly pumps in and out of you, pulling painfully pathetic
noises out of you every time he presses against a ridge inside your nook. Your
bulge is slowly unsheathing and it wraps around his wrist, spreading sticky
slick genetic material across his skin. Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to mind.
You figured an adult wouldn't care if you get off.
But goddamn do you get off. With just one finger in your nook – aahhhhh
fuckgoddamnit make that two – and claws lightly tracing random patterns across
the sensitive skin of your bulge you shudder in his grip and come in your pants
like a wriggler, panting and keening with your head rolled back and seeing
white, you don't care that your throat is exposed to him to tear out if he
feels like it.
It takes a few minutes, but eventually your bones are solid enough again that
you can stand on your own. You look up at him with wide eyes.
“Holy fucking hell,” you essay, still breathing hard. He laughs quietly.
“I wouldn't mind a little help,” he says, rubbing a palm over where his
leggings bulge outwards at the crotch, the front darkened with wet genetic
material. Hungrily, you get down on your knees and press an open mouthed kiss
to the dark patch, sucking. The genetic material that coats your teeth and
tongue is tangy, but not in a bad way. Sort of like those cherry red candies
Terezi is constantly snacking on in the laboratory and making everyone annoyed
with her obscene smacking sounds and loud declarations of how delicious they
are. His hand lands in between your horns and his claws scritch lightly at your
scalp and you purr happily at his approval.
It doesn't take long before he's impatient and pulls down the leggings. Usually
you'd have a snide comment for someone who wears their leggings pulled up to
their armpits but somehow the Signless makes it look majestic. His bulge is
dark and glistening, twisting lazily in front of your face, and holy shit is it
supposed to be that thick? Are you going to be that thick after your adult
molt? Either way, you lean forward and slip the tip of his bulge into your
mouth, feeling the weight of it on your tongue. You lap at it, sucking, before
pulling off and and mouth kisses down the underside, not caring when it leaves
large streaks of sticky material across your cheek and forehead and into your
hair. He's been so kind and patient with your sorry ass (you want to slap Past
Karkat for being such a crotchrot idiot and not realizing what a good thing it
was that Signless found you) and you could fucking worship him for that. So you
do, pressing your nose against his bulge and forcing your tongue into his nook,
worshipping him. The way his hand fists in your hair and tugs, encouraging,
tells you that your worship has been received and your new god approves. You
keep at it until the underside of your tongue is sore and you pull back,
sucking his bulge back into the heat of your mouth, being careful to wrap your
lips around your fangs so he gets all pleasure and no pain. He sighs, your only
sign that it feels good.
You press yourself down on him, taking a moment to figure out how to open your
throat to take even more of him inside of you. You wonder for a moment what
it'd be like to have such a thick bulge in your nook, and even though you just
got off, you feel you nook start to drip again at the thought. Signless
carefully pushes you the rest of the way on his bulge, your lips stretched
uncomfortably around his base and you swallow reflexively, again and again as
the intrusion of his bulge doesn't go away. You can feel him twitching and
curling against the back of your protein chute and you moan like a fucking
concupiscent porn star, sending vibrations through the slick appendage in your
mouth. Signless pets your hair and murmurs encouragements, and you glow under
the praise. You dare to try and bob your head on his bulge, and although you
don't do it nearly well enough to be worthy of the god you're sucking off, he
fists his fingers in your hair painfully tight and comes, pouring genetic
material down your throat and covering your chest and legs with what comes out
of his nook. You keep your nose pressed against his pelvis as his bulge spasms
inside your protein chute, nearly choking on the amount of genetic material he
releases, but you don't really care because it tastes so good and you would
happily be on your knees all night pleasing him in thanks for saving you when
you were thrown back onto Alternia.
You feel him start to resheath and carefully pull yourself off his bulge,
working your jaw as it protests closing after being stretched so wide for so
long. You collapse at your god's feet, covered in his genetic material combined
with traces of your own, the same bright colour, and he's kneeling beside you,
petting your hair and telling you how well you've done, how much you've pleased
him. You smile hazily and close your eyes, not minding that you're sticky and
uncomfortable, not minding that you're half naked and vulnerable.
Your thoughts of Strider and Lalonde rescuing you almost seem like daymares
now.
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