
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/169946.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi, Other
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Terezi_Pyrope/Karkat_Vantas, Terezi_Pyrope/Karkat_Vantas/Equius_Zahhak,
      Sollux_Captor/Terezi_Pyrope/Karkat_Vantas/Feferi_Peixes
  Character:
      Karkat_Vantas, Terezi_Pyrope, Equius_Zahhak, Sollux_Captor, Feferi_Peixes
  Additional Tags:
      Dom/sub, Gangbang, Gags, Anal_Sex
  Collections:
      Claimed_Fills
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-03-12 Words: 2221
****** lie on the chopping block ******
by everlit_(Ink)
Summary
     Her expression never changes, and every moment it pierces him more.
     She may be blind but she sees him, and he can’t—he can’t deal with
     that but he can’t look away. Karkat gets well and truly fucked.
Notes
     Anon requested Karkat gagged and bottoming. I, ah, suppose this
     fulfills that. With interest.
     Also, trying to tag this made me cry.
The gag's just this side of uncomfortable—it doesn't hurt, but it's filling
him, it's pressing down on his tongue, and the straps bite into the corners of
his mouth. Terezi runs one finger across his cheek, under the edge of that
strap. “Are you still okay with this?” she asks.
The spark in her eye tells him she already knows, but she wants him to say it.
Or not say it, in this case.
“No?” she says, when he doesn't respond, and moves her hands to the back of his
head, playing with the fastener. She's smirking at him. God, she's so fucking
infuriating—
He doesn't look at her, but he nods once, deeply enough that she'll be able to
feel it, and reaches up to pry her hands away.
Her smile is like a sated cat's. “Good.” In the next instant she has one of his
arms bound behind him; the other she leaves free— “If you really want to stop,”
she says, “you can raise your hand—” and she bears him down onto his back; runs
her hands up the inside of his thighs, spreading his legs; licks a stripe down
his cock—
His hips buck and he yelps, moaning against the gag—
—and she withdraws. “Oh, yeah,” she says, low and thick and entirely too
fucking pleased, “I think they're going to like you. I think I like you. You
can come in now,” she calls, crossing over to kneel beside him.
Sollux enters the room. Feferi's on his arm, guiding him in, and she wiggles
her fingers at Karkat. "Hey, Crabsnack," she chirps, like they're at a fucking
tea party or something.
Ice shoots down his spine and he freezes. You didn't tell me she was going to
be here, he tries to say, you didn't tell me she was going to see—
Terezi strokes his hair, tucks a stray strand behind his ear. “What's that,
Karkat?” Her lips twitch. “You'll have to speak more clearly, I can't
understand you.”
Oh, fuck you— It doesn't do any good, though, he just ends up drooling around
the gag. Terezi runs her thumb over his lip to wipe it away. “You're making a
mess,” she says.
He shivers.
Feferi guides Sollux's hand between his legs, and Sollux glides his fingertips
over Karkat’s cock, briefly, along the insides of his thighs, before moving
further back. He does it all with the same air of casual indifference that
Karkat has come to expect from him, and his hands—parting Karkat, one finger
probing along the crack of his ass to find his entrance—are very cold.
Feferi, meanwhile, seems to have decided that he is her new sketchbook; she's
tracing little patterns, little whorls, on his skin with a delicate, too-light
touch. Every so often her fingers brush against his cock, which might be
accidental but probably isn't—or she's devious enough for it not to be, at
least. He can’t help it—he arches up into that touch—but she always pulls away.
She knows exactly how much she has to give him to drive him crazy, and she
doesn’t plan on going any further.
“Give him what he wants,” Terezi says, voice rich with laughter. "Just a
little."
This time Sollux plunges two fingers into him, slick with lube; Feferi hums her
assent and runs her thumb along the side of his cock, as easily as she might
pet a cat. She follows that up with her tongue—and he whines, high in his
throat, throwing his head back.
Her head bobs up. “Wow,” she says brightly, "Terezi was right—you really do
make the best noises," and she leans back in to lick the tip of his cock,
swirling her tongue against the slit, half a second before Sollux slides the
third finger in up to the knuckle.
“You do,” Terezi murmurs in his ear, proprietary, her nails curling around his
jaw, and that gets a moan out of him—the curve of her mouth, the way she leans
over him. And she laughs. “Yeah, just like that—hey, Sollux, are you going to
fuck him or what?”
“All in good fucking time, TZ,” Sollux grumbles, and eases in slowly, which is
a kind of torture all its own.
They are a study in easy command, his arrogance and clinical hands, her bright
smiles and layers of deviousness beneath. He isn’t prepared for the way they
open him up—and he isn’t prepared for Nepeta, who comes after, crawling up his
body in one long, sinuous motion, clawing down his sides, leaving scrapes and
scratches that she laps at with her tongue afterward—or Jade, who comes after
Nepeta, with her too-soft human hands and her smirk that isn’t soft at all—he’s
so much less annoying when he can’t talk, she tells Terezi and Terezi laughs.
She’s followed by her brother—John just stares at Karkat, all wide eyes and
wonder, like he wants nothing more than to ask well, what are you doing here,
Karkat? Like Karkat is some great puzzle—this angry boy pacified, reduced and
laid bare on the floor in front of him—and he turns that puzzle over and over
in his hands, searching for the trick of it.
Terezi is the constant; she pets his arms, his shoulders, runs her fingers
through his hair. Through it all, she never stops talking, her voice a low
rumble in his ear—you look so good like this, she whispers, you look amazing,
spread out and open and flushed, all the blood rising to the surface, she can
smell it on you. You can’t hide it, can you, how much you want this: to cede
control—moan for me, yes, exactly like that—to be touched and turned over and
taken until there is nothing left, acting is too much, thinking is too much,
you are there to be used.
Heat, shame, courses through him at that, but she shakes her head, sidles up
closer. You’re so afraid of what you want, she says. You don’t have to be
afraid. Don’t be afraid.
By the time John finishes, he’s exhausted, flagging, but when Terezi brushes
her thumb along the tip of his cock his whole body jerks. He hasn’t come yet
today—every time she brings him back from the brink, just as he’s about to.
Terezi smiles at him, like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “Not yet,” she
says.
He bites back a groan.
“Come in,” she calls, turning her head, and Equius steps into the room.
John had hung in the doorway for a long time, eyes bugging out of his head,
gaping, ogling. Equius, on the other hand, doesn’t ogle. Equius rakes, and his
breath rattles, heavy, as he kneels down between Karkat’s legs. For once, he
doesn’t say a word, thank god, only slides his hands so careful under Karkat’s
hips—lifts him up, too easily, and Karkat sucks in a breath that becomes a
whistle around the sides of the gag.
Equius is big, much bigger than either Sollux or John, and even though he’s
been thoroughly stretched it still hurts when Equius pushes into him, just
enough that it only makes him harder. He wants more, he can take more, he wants
so much—
“—didn’t bring you here to be careful,” Terezi says, from half a world away,
and when Equius growls in response he can feel it all along him.
The next thrust is hard and fast—not a trace of hesitation, just pure driving
force—and that, yes, that’s what he needs, that’s exactly what he’s been
missing. Please, he says, or thinks he says, but it doesn’t matter anyway, the
gag warps it all to incoherent noise. Equius grips his hips harder, bruising
the skin there, which should not—fuck—should probably not turn him on this
much, but that’s a lost cause by now. He’s gone.
Terezi’s touching his face, tracing around his open mouth—his mouth is dry, he
cries out as Equius pounds into him, throws his head back, but she keeps on
tracing, her expression never changes, and every moment it pierces him more.
She may be blind but she sees him, and he can’t—he can’t deal with that but he
can’t look away— “More,” she says, “and tuck your knees to your chest, Karkat,”
and he does, and Equius withdraws and he’s left panting on the floor, with her
hands and the cold tile—
—he gasps, arching up, one two three—
—and Equius slides in again, two fingers as well as his cock this time. He
fucks Karkat with both—slower this time, and the rhythms don’t match up, but it
burns, all the way down, it’s right on the edge of too much, he doesn’t think
he could take any more than this. Then Equius shoves his fingers in all the way
and—god, he’s not sure he can take this.
“More,” Terezi says, her lips curved up into that smile that’s so very her, and
he goes hot and then very cold. I can’t, he tries to say, Terezi, I can’t— but
it’s all one long muffled whine and her grin widens and he knows that look, he
knows this, this is the part where she makes him beg but he can’t and what do
you do when you can’t beg? When she strips you down and takes all of you, takes
every last thing except for one and then takes that away too—
The third finger splits him apart.
He clenches around it, but if anything that makes it worse. “Relax,” Terezi
says, but he’s wound so tight, his nails are digging into his palms, and when
he sucks in a breath it feels like his lungs are on fire.
“Karkat, relax.” She wraps her hand around the base of his cock, strokes him up
and down, and that takes the edge off it a little. “Breathe,” she says, and he
does; it’s easier this time, though he still feels like he’s being pulled in
two. He unclenches by degrees. Equius hasn’t moved the whole time, still isn’t
saying anything—Karkat can hear him panting, though, heavily, like it’s taking
all his effort to hold back.
Then he doesn’t—it’s just his cock moving in and out now, impossibly slow, but
the pressure, the weight of his fingers is still there. Every part of Karkat is
white-hot, his bones have turned to jelly, he can’t move—can only lay there and
whimper as Equius drags inside him, filling all of him. It hurts, it still
hurts—it feels impossibly good—pain becomes pleasure and pleasure becomes pain,
circling around and back again. His cock is aching. When Terezi’s fingers brush
against it, the lightest possible touch, the contact is unbearable; he is going
to die, he is sure of it—and then she does it again, works him harder this
time, ever harder, always, and his whimper is high and breaking all around him—
He comes, spilling all over himself, shaking.
Terezi says something he can’t make out, and the next thing he registers is
Equius withdrawing, leaving him empty, hollowed out, wanting. He can’t remember
who he is, barely knows where he is. There’s a hole in him that can’t be filled
easily—but Terezi presses herself flush against him, then, burying her face in
the crook of his neck, and her hands alight on either side of his head. She
strokes down his cheeks with her thumbs, smooths him out with every motion:
“You were good,” she says, “you were so good, Karkat,” and he lets himself take
her in, her scent, her words, her heartbeat against his. He absorbs all of it.
Someone grunts, the sound coming from somewhere very far away from him, and he
hears something hit the inside of a bucket. Terezi lifts her head a fraction of
an inch and says, “If you ever want to come back—”
“You are utterly depraved,” Equius starts, and then stops. There’s a long
silence. “And you know where to find me,” he says.
She huffs—Karkat can feel her breath against his throat. “Geez, is he ever
going to lighten up?” Then she falls silent again—and he, of course, can’t say
anything—and they both stay like that for minutes, hours, years. He wouldn’t
know, he is floating away, in the depths of space somewhere orbiting a blazing
star.
But he’s here, still, at the same time, because she is above him, and the whole
way through she never stops touching him. “Can you sit up?” she asks, after an
eternity. And this is his greatest secret, his greatest shame, larger and more
terrifying than anything he has done or wanted here today: he doesn’t want to.
He would like nothing more than to stay here, forever, mind gloriously blank,
with nothing but her hands and her warmth and the assurance of her body against
his, holding him down. But he nods, reluctantly, and she slides off him,
pulling him up with her. Her hands reach behind his head to take apart the
fastenings of the gag.
Even after she removes it, though, he doesn’t speak, not for a very long time.
And for once she doesn’t make him.
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