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How Many Licks

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"Eight licks."

"You bit."

"You never said I couldn't bite." You can smell the grin on her face, the pieces of candy, artificially colored with grubs' blood, stuck between her teeth. "I didn't break any rules."

With a put-upon sigh — more put-upon than you actually feel, more for show — you drop your Trolltsie Roll Pop, grab Vriska's and toss it aside. You fetch new ones from the package, taking a blue one for yourself and handing her a teal one.

"Wow, Terezi, is there something you're not telling me?"

A grin plays on your lips as you tug the wrapper off with your teeth. "We try again, and this time, no biting. On three."

One.

Two.

Three.

The scent of cerulean fills your nostrils, the taste wafting up through your upper palate. You work fast and furious at the lollipop. One. Two. Three. Four. You keep your ears open for the sounds of licking and, you hope, absolutely no biting from Vriska's end.

"This is boring," she whines once you reach twenty. "I'm gonna bite."

"No, Vriska."

"Gonna do it." Her teeth crack the shell of the candy.

"If you cheat, that means you lose," you point out. "But if you're okay with losing..."

She grumbles and resumes licking.

It is boring, though. Neither of you is actually expecting to reach the Trolltsie Roll center of your Trolltsie Roll pops just by licking; this is, of course, just an elaborate game you're playing to see which of you breaks the rules first. Or, more specifically, which of you spices things up first. And since Vriska seems to have taken your admonishment against losing to heart — or rather, since she can't bite without you noticing — it looks like it's your turn to make things interesting.

You scoot sideways, lean your head forward, and lick her lollipop.

"Terezi! Ewwwwwwww." Vriska scowls. "Now who's the cheater?"

"Tell me which rule says we have to only lick our own lollipops."

"I... Wow, fuck you!"

As she glowers, you lick her cheek. That isn't against the rules, either.

"Oh," is all Vriska says. And then, probably remembering that the two of you are in the middle of a competition, she conspicuously eyes your face before lathing her tongue across your glasses.

"You like what you taste?" you ask her, amused.

"Not really. They taste like spit. Ugh, I should have known you already lathered them in your own gross saliva."

"Heh heh heh." Pulling them off your face, you grin down at them and lick the other lens. "They are the best color."

"Shut up. We have licking to do, Scourge Sister." Her tongue laps against your lips.

This competition isn't over yet.