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Take You Wonder By Wonder

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"Back that shit up," Dave demands. "Sollux is what?"


"Pining, Strider, he's fucking pining for your clueless, socially inept, formerly pasty alien ass," Karkat sneers, "And I am getting entirely fucking fed up with this little charade, and, in about a Perigee, so are the Imperial Drones. What. The fuck. Are your intentions. Towards my fucking moirail?" 


"Yes, Karkat," Dave drawls, "I harbor desperate inclinations to deflower your bulgebuddy in the back of a pickup truck after prom one hot second you turn your knobby little spine on the two of us. I'm getting him knocked up with two kids and a fucking dog and we'll settle down in a Troll trailer park and I'll make him make me sandwiches barefoot. Whatever am I going to do now that you somehow have divined my true intentions?"


Because that's the thing, anymore: he's fucked if he knows, either.


Sollux is-- Sollux is, fuck, how should he know? He's nuts. He's bugshit nuts, even literally, bugfuck nuts, apeshit gaga, loonytunes around the bend bats in the screwloose belfrey. But then, so are the rest of the Trolls; so is he, now. And Sollux talks to Dave, like, he sits on his hivestem windowseat with his blackcharred eyes staring sightless at the sky and his tongue hissing softly against his outsized fangs and his legs hanging over the staggering drop off the edge of the stem and he lets Dave lounge with him, and he just explains things, history, manners, computers, sports, culture, weird shit, any kind of shit.


Sollux is like the only one of them that maybe gets that doing everything from ordering groceries to saying hello to someone without getting a knife through the neck is something that has to be learned, has to be practiced, who gets that you fake it till you make and faking it is a damn shake easier if someone condescends to include a brochure to to this Alternian magical mystery tour their Human friends got dragged along for like toilet paper stuck to the heel of Fortune's stiletto. Sollux makes Dave feel like-- not normal, but sufficient, confident, like he can do this, like he's going to be able to have some kind of life, going to be able to piece together bit by painful bit some kind of future as what he is now, as an alien. Sollux is kind of an alien in all this too, stranger in a strange land, and that's what they are together, just two aliens fumbling their way along.


Trolls don't really have a word for bros-- and anyway, that's Karkat's job, to do the Troll not-bros thing. Sollux has fits, still, Sollux goes away in the dark places of his head and doesn't talk or move or eat or respond to anything but the hard slap across the face that Dave can never quite bring himself to give-- rude, man, in any species that's just got to be rude-- and that Karkat dishes out with a weary ease. Karkat's the one that comes over and orders pizza and bullies Sollux into eating it and shoves Dave around until Dave finds himself vacuuming the damn floor just to spite the little nubbyhorned shitstub. Dave just kind of is like... when Sollux is up coding all day Dave stays with him and scratches, mixing music to keep him company. When Sollux doesn't eat, Dave sits with him and plays his games through, letting the light of the gamescreens flicker across his empty gray face, both their gray faces, till Karkat comes over, and when Sollux goes away inside his own head Dave goes away, too, back to his own hivestem, and tries to remember how to be alone again.


He's lost the knack, somewhere, and he's not sure when and he's not sure, especially not sure, why.


They finally made a game together, just recently, staying up three days in a row till the world was a blur of exhaustion and slimy discarded egg cases, Sollux's fingers pruning up from the constant breeding and combgramming and Dave wearing his own fingers raw on the sharkskin rasp of Alternian records, mixing up a soundtrack like he was the last DJ on the planet who knew how to lay things the fuck down so they stayed fucking laid because he was, he was the last kid on any planet anywhere who knew how to fucking do any of this like this, and and the end of the three days they looked at each other and the whole world was just this fuzzy dreamy pulsing blur. They had tried to fistbump, when the game ran perfect, and missed, and it had made Dave's weird Troll heart kind of do a weird Troll floppy thing inside his chest.


"Thleep with me," Sollux had slurred, his axe-blade jaw lolling against Dave's shoulder, "You're going to get culled if you try to make it back to your hivethuite--"


"Yeah," Dave had agreed, arm around Sollux's skinny fucking shoulders, "yeah, sure, beam me up."


"You fucking withh I'd beam you up."


"You wish I'd wish," Dave countered.


"Eheheh. Yeah, thure," Sollux said, and they stumbled off to Sollux's old bifuricated recuperacoon.


He was just... he was Sollux, bony and vague and brittle and bitter and famine-weak and riot-angry and sopor-sweet and kind of ironically cool in a so-apeshit-bananas-uncool-he-went-around-the-bend-right-back-to-cool cool, and so, so, so very strange and when Dave looks at him there's just this sort of hot bewildered horror in the pit of his stomach, that anyone in the universe could be like this, that anyone that was like this could survive how the world is about that. 


It's nothing like friendship, nothing like the warm pleasure of honest proper Human affection that keeps Dave's Human-- formerly Human-- friends still all together tight enough that everyone always thinks they're some kind of kinky polyamorous moiraility thing, and it's not even any kind of moiraleigance, either, Dave isn't Sollux's boss, not his babysitter, not his minder. It's raw and it's weird and it hurts and sometimes Dave just really wants to cut Sollux into little pieces and pack away each and every piece in it's own specimen jar, Subject Sollux Part One to One Hundred, and keep all those jars in his closet forever and he can't trust himself like this, can't trust what this lunatic asylum of a body wants him to do. Last time he just went and did what felt right he found himself getting into a fight with his own thermal hull, and Sollux is the only one that explains things to him. 


"He's..." Dave starts, "I think I just..." and he leaves that thought just a little too long, trying to think about what he's thinking about, shit's getting awkward as a boner in a cassock, and goes for a coolkid shrug. Karkat's gnarled-up face smooths out, a little, and there's a calmer glint to his golden eyes that makes everything feel, abruptly, totally weird.


"You've got no fucking clue which end is up about this kind of thing, do you?" Karkat asks, almost gently. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone off on you. You're such a huge bitch it's easy to forget you weren't hatched like this."


He flops down on the edge of Dave's futon. Dave hates him so much he wants to eat his face off.


"When a Troll and another Troll manage to stand each others' company for an extended period of time--"


"They make beautiful music together, okay, I got that part--"


"Shut the fuck up, no you don't. You're embarrassing me. You're embarrassing everyone in a twenty mile fucking radius. Shut up and let me pour some schoolfeed down your insatiable wordtrap, okay?"


Dave contemplates picking Karkat up by those little horns of his and throwing him out his goddamn window, but that would probably mean Karkat's won. He nods, smooth and slow, like a challenge.


"When a Troll and another Troll manage to stand each others' company for an extended period of time, their relationship tends to shift from the causal mutual familiarity we call friendship and also enemyship and which really just means hey I like knowing you," --lapsing for just a second into mocking, fang-mangled English-- "and into one of four different flavors as you reconcile your growing attachment with your romantic directives. Romance is is extremely important, way more important than whatever pathetic one-square form you Humans used to have-- and it’s not just about making grubsauce for the Drones, either. The primary form of Alternian relationships is these quadrants, and the primary social group you'll find yourself in as an adult is a clade of partners and inlaws, if you manage to sort out your bonebulge from your protein chute long enough to form your own partnerships in the first place."


"And this has to do with me how?"


"From what I understand of your shitty ex-culture," Karkat says, infuriatingly kindly, maddeningly delicately, "Humans seem to form their assbackwards matespritships from a mixture of admiration and fear: you guys were so weak that it was like what attracted you to your partners was their strength?"


"Shit, dude, that's just Equius," Dave says, and Karkat snorts a little like he's got a point.


"But anyway," he continues, "Here, now, with proper normal people, it doesn't work like that-- the stronger a Troll is the more likely they are to rip you apart, right? That's just Troll 101. Admiration, an apprehension of someone's prowess, that's a decent foundation for blackrom, or for being in cahoots. You want your business partners sharp, you want to know your kismesis can take care of themselves, you want your auspistices competent and well-fucking-versed in your own talents so they can mediate you and your entanglements properly, or so that you can mediate theirs, depending on which leaf you're at. But red feelings are necessarily based on pity, because with each other the two of you are going to be at your most vulnerable, your weakest. You need to know that when you stick your neck out like that for another guy he either won't or can't take it as an invitation to dig in his claws. That's how me and Sollux work-- he puts up with me because he feels bad about, I don't know, how angry I am about shit, he lets me vent, and I feel too sorry for the bipolar freakjob to give him any more grief than I have to when he goes into one of his retarded space cadet adventures in staring into the void headtrips. That's how it's supposed to work."


Dave sits back in his chair, and they stare at each other for a while. "And how does this have anything to do with me, you wordy fuckass?"


"Do you pity him?" Karkat asks, impatiently. "Sollux, I mean, my moirail, your friend, don't you pity him, even a little?"


"Who wouldn't?" Dave snorts, incredulous. "The boy's a fucking wreck, in case you missed that memo--"


But Karkat's laughing, sitting back against Dave's futon and sniggering with his hands over that ludicrous sharptoothed maw of his. "You do!" he says, "Oh my god, you totally do, and here I was almost fucking worried about you dipshits--"


Dave blinks, nonplussed, and then two and two knock on the door of his brain and inform him that they are four and also he may have just declared his actual inclimation to actually deflower Sollux in the back of an actual truck after actual prom.


Maybe they can skip the getting knocked up part.


Dave really hopes they can skip that part.


"I hate you," Dave hisses, rage rising up like lava into his brain, hissing and burning and calling for Karkat's blood. "You can have that confession for free, fuckstub, I want to chew your fucking face off, like, all the time, but you're the only one who's bothered to memorize the take-out numbers so Sollux'd probably starve if I offed you but that's got to be the only thing keeping the Troll cops from never fucking finding the body. Your fucking ugly short-stack little freakjob midget body."


Karkat stops laughing abruptly. "What?"


"I mean I motherfucking loathe your ugly fucking mug, Karkles," he spits out, furious, humiliated, on a fucking roll, "and I want to kill you, I want-- it's all your fucking fault that we're like this, now, you come into my stupid alien hive and you go on and fucking on about alien shit that I should never have had to care about like someone died and made you Troll Jesus and every word out of your mouth is like a coal shit out of Satan's hemorrhoidal ass and you are a stopped-up loadgaper spewing flaming bullshit diarrhea all over the fucking place like you're getting paid by the hour and sometimes when I can't think of anything better to do with my time like pulling my teeth out with pliers I sit around and imagine all the ways it would be possible to kill you, skin you, claw out your eyes and file your horns down and pull out every strand of your hair one by one till you cried like a girl and eat your fingers up all slow while you begged. I wouldn't even have to hide the body, you know what, you're so fucking obnoxious that if the police ever did show up they'd look at your chewed-up corpse and say 'oh look it's time to have a fucking parade, Strider, do you want the keys to the fucking city for this staggeringly heroic monument of public service you have just bequeathed us--'"


Karkat's grinning again, a kind of wide wondering grin, head cocked to one side, leaning forward over his knees, sucking down Dave's feelingsjam like his words are the last can of shitty bacon-flavored Troll soda on thirstmurder island.


"We can work with this," Karkat says, still grinning that shitty grin, and grabs Dave's wrist.


"What the fuck," Dave says.


"Time to get schooled, Dave," Karkat says, practically fucking snickers, and hauls Dave out of his hive.


The bidirectional corpsecloset trip down Dave's hivestem to the ground is the longest, weirdest, awkwardest thing he's ever done, and he's gotten his underwear caught in his pants' zipper before in public. Karkat won't let go of his hand, won't stop kneading it, a prickle of claws and hard fingers in the soft muscle of his palm, and Dave doesn't know how to cope with the way it's making him burn, this breathless furious ache starting to seethe beneath his skin. He wants to tear Karkat apart, push him up against the 'closet's wall and bracket that tempting neck of his with yellow claws till he chokes and then go further, wants to get a knee between his legs and break each and every one of his toes.


He stands there and he tries not to smash Karkat's face in and he watches the jagged Alternian numbers descend until the 'closet dings and lets them out on to the pavement. The cool night air hits him like a shock, makes him think about taking his damn hand back or maybe just drawing his swordkind and taking Karkat's hand off at the wrist but Karkat shoots him this filthy look, wicked and sly, impudent as hell, like Karkat knows something he doesn't and is just about to share and it just burns the shit out of whatever kind of stupid Troll brain Dave's been saddled with. So he lets Karkat drag him across the street and to the door of Sollux's hive.


"Passthword," the door asks as usual, the S's hissed just a little bit like Sollux was really trying when he was recording it, eyebrows drawn together and taking the greatest of care and still fucking it up, and it makes the hot ache chewing up Dave's skin go a little funny, a little shivery and tender.


"It's Dave and Karkat, let us in," Karkat says.


"That is not the passthword," the door says.


"We've got a surprise for you, nookstain, come on and open up already--"


"That is not the passthword," the door repeats.


"Sollux, I know you're having fun lying on the floor feeling sorry for yourself and wishing that Karkat was there to mop up the lake of self pity that you have wept in his absence and, surprise, your wish has been granted, you are so fucking welcome--"


"That is not the passthword," the door repeats, Sollux's long-ago recorded voice, and Dave has no more patience for Karkat's rousing game of Yell At The Door Till Sollux Notices, he wants to hear the actual Sollux right now.


"Swordfish," Dave says.


The door unlocks.


"He told you the password?" Karkat looks furious. "There's actually a fucking password?"


Dave snorts. "Of course he's got a password, you bulgemunnnaaOW! Fuck!"


Karkat has driven his nails through Dave's skin hard enough to draw blood. "I can't believe you," he hisses, a low feral warble of sound, and Dave cannot entirely believe that his blood is not steaming in the air, that he's not breathing out licks of flames from his mouth his nose his ears his eyes, he wants to combust and rip Karkat into a wet shred all along the pavement, a handful of sodden ashes.


Karkat breathes out hard through his teeth, like he's thinking the exact same thing, and hauls Dave bodily into Sollux's corpsecloset by his mangled hand. He rams Dave hard into the wall, fists around the long backswept arches of Dave's horns and then he's kissing him, an onslaught of teeth and angry claws and it's like getting dryhumped by a chainsaw in the very best possible way. He rips the shades off Dave's face and crushes them underfoot and Dave pulls on Karkat's wild hair and claws one of his sleeves right off his arm. The furious singing that has wound its way through each and every one of Dave's mysterious Troll organs has found a set of lyrics and they go make him pay make him pay make him pay. When the 'closet dings and the door opens neither of them notice, too busy trying to kill each other with their mouths to give a shit about things like doors and dinging and Sollux poking his head in and Dave has managed to get his legs hooked up so perfectly around Karkat's hips and the way they're grinding is driving him out of his goddamn mind-- is driving his mind out of his mind--


"Not that I'm minding the free thound-thcape of obthene fucking noitheth I never wanted to hear my moirail make or anything, KK, but why the fuck are you performing it in here?"


"Fuck!" Dave says, and tries to get Karkat off him. Karkat laughs and pins his head back against the wall, his hands like iron bands around Dave's horns, wrenching the most embarrassing delirious whine out of him that he can only pray is due to having to deal with suddenly being acutely aware of having horns in the first place.


"Ehh," Sollux says, a high shiver of a noise, "Dave?"


Over Karkat's shoulder Dave can see Sollux's sunken bony cheeks going mustard yellow, his head cocked to one side, listening, and then Karkat digs the pads of his thumbs into the base of Dave's horns, the red velvety strip, and Dave's vision shorts out in a rush of incandescent pleasure.


"I'm playing relationship conductor," Karkat says breathlessly, still working Dave over, "Everyone aboard Dipshit Express, your best bulgebudy Karkat's gonna drive this failtrain all the way to Finally Getting Laidsville, no need to fucking thank me or anything--" he's giving Dave an honest-to-Troll-god handjob up there, kneading at shit Dave didn't even know he had until the world is just this vague fuzzy blur of heat and pounding pleasure and he's moaning Karkat's name over and over, too lost in the weirdness to be ashamed of anything, humping his weird wet Troll bone-bulge up against the taut smooth curve of Karkat's stomach and only wanting him to never ever ever fucking stop.


"Karkat," Sollux says again, his voice trembling, "d-do you think Dipthhit Expreth'th got any fucking thtopth on Not My Fucking Corpsecloset Avenue...?"


"Don't spoil the mystery," Karkat pants. "It is possible that every stop is Exactly Your Fucking Corpsecloset Avenue, the whole damn trip just consists of that Avenue--"


"Yeah, and it's pothible if you f-fuck that kid in there I am going to do a fucking goddamn thtellar flip off the--"


"No you're not, you hapless reject. I could fuck Dave in here all night and you'd pull a damn chair up to the door. Go pop some grubcorn, okay?"


Dave's stomach lurches, and when he opens his eyes it's to a thick white haze of psionics. He and Karkat float into the air, just a few inches off the floor, and then separate from each other in a spatter of all the red and orange blood he hadn't noticed they were spilling.


"You're gonna do thith on my couth if you're gonna do thith at all," Sollux says firmly, and levitates them down the hall to his gameroom.


The moment his feet hit the ground, Dave lunges for Karkat, trying to get his hands on the smooth blunt curves of the little shit's horns, make him pay. Karkat makes a derisive bark of laughter, and kicks him off.


"Nice try," he sneers. "Go try that with Sollux."


Sollux. It's like a dash of ice down his spine. Dave hunches up his shoulders, turns around like he hadn't just been about to hump his best friend's best friend to death.


"Hi," he says uncomfortably, jamming his blood-sticky hands in his pockets.


"...Hi," Sollux says.


They both kind of stare at the floor, or at least, Dave stares, and Sollux points his face downward.


"So," Karkat says brightly, "Tonight is the night I get my caliginous quadrant filled by a kid who's an even bigger dipshit than my pale one! I am so happy I could just vomit up all my organs to strangle myself with. But that's not even the best fucking part or anything! Now, why, Karkat, I hear you asking, why is that not the best part of tonight? Well, I answer, magnificent in my benevolence, like a god, like a coruscating creature of moonlight and answered prayer, I answer you: there are further quadrants to be filled tonight! There are all the quadrants."


"...Get to the fucking point, KK, or I am going to boil your thinkpan out of your bonecage with my eyelatherth. I actually do have eyelatherth now, you may recall."


"He pities you," Karkat says, with sadistic glee.


"He what?"


"He pities you so hard, his exact words were 'Who wouldn't, that kid is a wreck'."


Sollux rounds on Dave, his blank eyes wide, his skinny fists balled up and trembling.


"You what? And you never thaid anything?"


"Uh," Dave says, and risks a glance up from the floor. Even though Sollux is blind, Dave still really wishes he hadn't let Karkat crush his shades, he feels naked. "I didn't know that was a big thing for you guys, I mean, I just sort of didn't get it. I can't be a genius at everything all the time, you know, I mean I know my reputation for possessing strictly illegal amounts of gray matter precedes me but give me just a little bit of a fucking break, okay?"


"Wow," Sollux breathes. "Yeah, okay, we need to be fucking right the fuck now, you abtholutely wretched alien retard."


He tackles Dave, all skin and birdbones, and tips him right over on to the couch, straddling his lap and grabbing up desperate fistfulls of Dave's shirt. He kisses like he talks, all awkward teeth and sloppy tongue and furious intensity, lapping with a manic concentration at every nick Karkat’s teeth have introduced to Dave’s face and it feels fantastic. Dave wraps his hands around the larger set of his horns and squeezes and Sollux makes that shivery shuddery moan, melting against him, and Dave feels like the King of Trollsex.


"Do you wanna--"


"Yeah," Dave gasps, completely clueless as to what he's agreeing to, "yeah, yeah, do it--"


Sollux flips open the fly of Dave's jeans, drags the waistband of it down his hips and over his thighs and then, patience apparently spent, he lines Dave's already sopping wet bonebulge up with his nook and rams himself down on it.


"God," Dave hisses, and "Yeah," Sollux gasps, and "Why yes I am," Karkat say smugly from the other side of the couch.


Sollux's nook is approximately a million zillion squid-fucking-illion times better than anything Dave had found so far to stick his bulge into, and that included a desperate and ill-advised fling with an old smuppet. It's soft and warm as a dream of sunshine and when Sollux takes a shuddery little breath and squeezes his claws into Dave's shoulders the walls of his nook flutter too and clench down tight all around him, dragging with unbearable tenderness against his sensitive flesh. Except for being self-lubricating, bone bulges aren't that different from human dicks, and Dave feels like he's finally on familiar fucking ground. Sure, he's never fucked an alien before-- never fucked anyone-- but he's gotten to know Alien Dave Junior pretty good over the last little while and he feels something very much like confidence, when Sollux tucks his head into the curve of his shoulder and rolls his hips up and down on him.


I can do this,  Dave thinks, and then, Shit, how mad is he going to be if I come first--


And then Karkat decides to wade in. He grabs one of Dave's horns and Dave is starting to really seriously rethink how pleased he's been about not winding up with little stubs like Karkat or Sollux or John's, really kind of not actually pleased with the stately curl of his headgear anymore when it means Karkat can wrap his hands around them from behind and haul him around like a bike.


"Get the fuck off!" Dave snarles.


"Get the fuck on your knees, bitch," Karkat counters, twisting his head painfully around till he bundles his arms around Sollux's skinny ribs and tries to cooperate. Sollux maneuvers Dave the rest of the way, his bony thin heels on the tender small of Dave's back, and suddenly Dave finds himself confronted with a long skinny gold-flushed streak that is Sollux prostrate across the couch for him, gaunt and gorgeous, and the thick, intrusive press off Karkat's fingers into Dave's own personal nook which Dave had been ignoring just fine all these Perigees and had really actually intended to ignore forever.


"Dude, no," Dave says flatly, bucking in what is hopefully a warning fashion against Karkat's hands. Unfortunately that also drags his bulge halfway out of Sollux's nook and when Dave goes to shove it back in Sollux whimpers and clings at him and Karkat gets two fingers hooked up tight into this spot Dave hadn't known he had and it's like the horns thing, all over again, getting absolutely ambushed with shit not actually feeling too bad at all and the horn thing is still actually going on right this moment, also. Karkat's squeezing his right horn, licking at the base of his left, his chest a burning damp weight covering his back and between his legs he's stoking up this weird pressure, this weird hunger, Dave's never felt anything like this in his life but he knows that whatever it is it wouldn't be the end of the fucking world if he got more of it.


Karkat just works two fingers in and out, over and over, in time with the way he's squeezing Dave's horn and counterpoint to the way that Dave is fucking Sollux, pulling out when Dave fucks in, pushing back in when he pulls out, and each time it feels a little better and gets a little less satisfying and he's up to three fingers, now, kind of an ache when his knuckles grind past the ring of flesh on into Dave, kind of unsatisfying as shit and he wants more, wants Karkat to really give it to him like he means it none of this patronizing kiddie bullshit, Dave can take it, can take anything Karkat could care to dish out.


He's really pounding into Sollux, now, each thrust ricocheting between Karkat's hands and the endless soft warmth around his bulge, driving him deep into the cushions while he shakes and sobs out Dave's name and his skinny hands wrap around Dave's horns-- room to fucking spare and it just feels so fucking good, being held like this, being used-- and Dave's whining, too, grinding his ass back demandingly against Karkat, needing to be fuller, to be filled-- grinding himself down on Karkat's bulge in his nook, cursing at him, he needs more of this, he needs Karkat to fuck him harder, fuck him like he fucking means it, fuck him like he's going to do his worst because Dave fucking Strider can take anything, just fuck him harder or he will break out every one of Karkat's teeth and flay him with them, he will cut off his goddamn eyelids and make him eat them, he will reach his hand down Karkat's throat and pull his bulge inside out if he doesn't fuck him harder.


Then Sollux spares a hand from Dave's horns to grab one of Dave's hands from his horns and guide it to his own neglected, soaking bulge, and Dave doesn't have to do much more than drag a fist from the slick root at the top of his nook to the blunt tip before Sollux is coming like a firecracker, literally crackling with fire, shaking and screaming and blazing with silver light that skitters like static across his skin. Dave drives himself a final time deep into the wildly spasming hot mess of Sollux's nook and falls over that same edge, a mindless blur of noise and endless pleasure and he can feel Karkat getting frantic, behind him, plunging into him hard enough to knock out all the air in what used to be Dave's lungs and getting sloppy-desperate with it, and everything is just a blissful roar of sensation that carries him with it and away.


When Dave comes back to himself Karkat seems to have finished, and is sprawled limp and sweaty across Dave's back, his bulge still tucked up into Dave's nook, while Dave himself is laid out like an excruciatingly perverse ragdoll across Sollux's chest, likewise still connected. Now that they're not all fucking it feels kind of grossly damp, but Dave is pretty loath to move. Sollux's skin is very soft, for all that his ribs are like knives, and all the strange wondering horror in Dave's chest has turned into a ferocious, confident posessiveness. He still wants to cut Sollux up into specimen jars and keep him forever and ever, but now at least he knows why.


"One of you lardatheth ith gonna have to get the fuck off," Sollux grumbles. "Theriousthly any fucking time now. Preferably whichever one of you thought eating darkmatter and brickth for every meal wath a great fucking idea, you can go fuck yourthelf right in the oracular thpongeclot."


"You," Dave grunts, and leans his head back enough to jab Karkat's head with the tips of his horns. Now that they're not being molested they feel just kind of numb and normal, again, maybe a little bit sore, maybe a little bit tingly. Some part of him-- a large part-- wants to go back to the getting molested.


Karkat gives a great, grumbling sigh, and scoots back. "That was just slightly less than completely horrible for everyone everywhere," he says, and smacks Dave's ass as he pulls out of his nook. He wipes his bulge on the back of Dave's shirt, and then lounges back against the couch.


Sollux elbows Dave pointedly in the face, and Dave disentangles himself too.


"So is that it...?" Dave looks around. He had kind of expected something with buckets, with hentai bukkake, big goopy puddles of rainbow slime, or eggs, or something, but aside from being a little bit slick and sticky between the legs there's nothing-- less jizz, even, than when he'd been Human and messed around with himself in bed.


"What did you expect, pailth?" Sollux asks, all wry sarcasm, and then blinks. "Eheheh, you did, didn't you? Oh my god, Karkat, he thought--"


"Oh, fuck, he did?" Karkat leans around Dave's shoulder, peering at his face. "He did! Ahahaha oh my god, that is priceless. Pails! Now! When we're fucking seven sweeps?"


"Dave, thith wath jutht a dry run," Sollux says, carding his thin fingers through Dave's hair. "We'll do it all for real, with pails, when we're old enough that the Droneth come for uth."


"Oh my god, you poor dumb fuck, you thought this was it!" Karkat fucking lies back and cackles with sadistic glee.


"So I've got two rounds of nasty fucking surprises in, okay, great, I'm so completely thrilled to hear that," Dave snaps at him. "I totally woke up this evening thinking 'Oh I know what I want to do with my life, I want to have my first fucking roll in the alien hay twice, with aliens, while they don't share basic things like how getting fucked up the shitty alien orifice you're not even supposed to have doesn't actually mean shit because we're all apparently still in pedophile territory and there's actually a whole entirely different bucket worshiping proceedure with your stupid shitty royal voyeur bugs--"


"Yes, Dave, I completely apologize for blowing your feeble Human thinkpan with the majesty of my concupiscent ardor," Karkat drawls. "Clearly I should have realized that when Past Dave was just going oh Karkat fuck me like you mean it what he really meant was Future Dave-- that is you, just in case I wasn't being clear enough-- was going to flip his fucking lid over not getting to make grubsauce with me right this fucking second. You are welcome, you are welcome a million times, I hope to god that you choke to death on my munificent benevolence and your corpse is eaten by shitants."


"Tho, you wanna go again?" Sollux asks.


"We can go again?" Dave asks, and then realize that sometime between shouting at Karkat and getting shouted at by Karkat his bulge has decided that it is definitely fucking time to go again.


"We can fucking go again," Karkat says. "We are fucking going again."


"I'm on top this time," Dave says.


"Eheheh," Sollux says. "Nope!"


"No you're fucking not," Karkat agrees, and grabs on to his horns again.


They go again.