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“So you’re like wanting me to go and make you feel bad?” Gamzee asked.

It is surely inappropriate for you to presume to ask a favor of the highblood, although you’re only asking for him to do what is proper by affirming his place over you. He has become more receptive to your seeking his authority since you admitted your mutual pity, but you still yearn to truly feel his power over you.

“No, no highblood,” you rush to explain. “On the contrary, I would...greatly desire to be treated in such a manner. To affirm the difference in our status, to, to be reminded that I am lesser than you in all things. It makes me feel…”

Sweat is running down your back, and you don’t feel quite comfortable putting this into words – you are sure it isn’t appropriate to talk about how it feels to be subject to highblooded authority. You can hardly think of words for it. “I assure you it would not make me feel bad, highblood. I would find it....most pleasant.”

“So you want me to be making you feel like you’re a bad blue motherfucker and you better be doing all those things I say, and then you get like to be feeling all the good things?”

“Well, er, yes,” you reply, although it is rather embarrassing to hear it said straight out with the highblood’s customary lack of shame. “That is essentially what I am saying.”

A wide grin spreads across Gamzee’s face. “Well shit, my brother, why didn’t you all get to be saying so in the first place instead of all that confusing shit with all those colors and things everywhere?”

He comes up to you and kisses you, taking you by surprise. The kiss is quick and hard and then he’s grinning in your face, “Well then I guess what I ought to be saying is get down on your fucking knees, motherfucker, cause I’m not like to be having any low blooded people coming around here and not showing all that respect,” and his hands are on your shoulders pushing you down.

Your knees hit the ground hard enough to hurt and you look up to see him grinning down at you, watching your face like it was something new he’d discovered. Your heart is pounding and your shirt is stuck to you with sweat, and you can’t help but reflect his smile back at him because you almost can’t believe he’s doing this but you just want him to keep you on your knees.

He reaches down and plucks your glasses off your face, examining your eyes. “Shit, this has got to be some kind of fucking miracle you invented, brother! You’re all thrilled as shit the way I’ve never gotten to see you and it’s from all this bad fucking shit, who would have thought of that, man?”

He tugs on your hair, it’s not hard, but you let him tilt your head up and kneel up to follow him. He slides a bare foot into your crotch, rubbing lightly at your bulge, and you fight the urge to push against it, not wanting to seek your own pleasure beyond what the highblood chooses to give you.

“Like look at this motherfucking sweet bulge you got going there, that’s some hot shit, man.” Gamzee palms his own bulge lightly with his other hand, and you realize with delight that the highblood is also becoming aroused by what you’re doing. “You’re right away all so motherfucking excited just because you have to do whatever I fucking tell you to.”

“Yes, highblood, yes, please, what would you have me do?”

Gamzee releases your hair and turns away, setting your glasses down before slumping in a chair. He beckons to you. “Don’t be getting the motherfuck up though, you just get on over here on the ground like where I fucking put you.”

You bow your head and crawl across the cold metal floor to where Gamzee sits. When you glance up at him he is watching you fiercely, his grin unflagging, and you feel a stab of gratified heat through you at the thought that he is enjoying watching you debase yourself before him. You feel an impulse to show him how much you want to raise him above you, and you pick up one of his bare feet, as gently as possible, and press a kiss to it.

The highblood shivers and you look up to see him smiling down at you languidly, slumping down further in the chair. “That’s some good shit, motherfucker, don’t be all like to stop now,” he laughs, and his other foot is pressing your head back down. You don’t know how he even does that but you go where he wants you to and press your lips back against his foot.

Gamzee relaxes above you as you kiss his foot again and again. He makes pleased noises as you begin to lick, lapping at each of his toes in turn. You are careful to move slowly, gently, not wanting to hurt him, and you don’t know how you thought of this but it works, he is pleased, and you are crouched on your knees before him, pleasing him.

You press down lower to the ground to move to his other foot. He takes the opportunity to slide the first foot between your legs again to rub idly against your arousal, now hard enough to hurt, then so soft you can barely feel it. You whimper against his foot, wanting more, wanting anything. This time you can’t resist rutting against him, and you press your tongue to the sole of his foot, feeling low and degraded and desperate for more.

He chuckles and finally reaches down to drag you up towards him, his hand on the back of your neck. You press yourself against his leg, moving towards his bulge, but he holds you back.

“Not yet, motherfucker, I’ve still got some shit you gotta do for me before you can be having all that.” Gamzee stretches his long limbs as he eases himself out of the chair, letting go of your head to step back and look at you. You see him take in the outline of your bulge through your shorts. It’s obscenely prominent and beginning to leak through your clothing, and you can feel yourself flush, ashamed by his evaluation of your eagerness.

“All right there, brother,” he says quietly, “now open that fucking mouth.”

He reaches his fingers inside your mouth, pressing on your jaw to force it wider until it’s almost painful. He traces your lips with wet fingers as you hold your mouth open, looking down at you with a smile that you dare to imagine looks almost condescending.

“Don’t motherfucking move,” he murmurs as he removes his bulge from his pants.

You expect the highblood to use your stretched-open mouth, or to pleasure himself in front of you as you watch. Instead, you feel warm liquid hit your face almost immediately, and you are shocked to realize that the highblood is urinating on you. The liquid runs down your face and into your open mouth and it’s so obscene, you want to shrink away but he told you not to move. So you stay still, shuddering with humiliation, your mouth stretched open as far as it will go to take his urine.

It tastes unfamiliar, astringent, and it’s not good but it’s not as bad as you would have expected it to be either. But it goes on, and you can’t stop it, only hold your mouth open and take what the highblood chooses to give you, and you realize that you’re still desperately, painfully hard. You’re utterly degraded, so low that the highblood can use you as a receptacle for his bodily fluids, and you want it all.

When Gamzee finally finishes you still don’t move. You wait with your mouth open until he comes up to you, pressing himself to you, one hand at the back of the neck and the other spreading across your urine-soaked face. He rubs at your face, wetting his hand, and pushes his fingers back into your open mouth. You can taste his fluids again on his fingers.

Gamzee plays with your mouth, his fingers reaching into your throat so far you almost start to gag, his hand at the back of your neck keeping you from pulling back. You groan a little around his fingers, shaking with arousal at your own degradation. You’re filthy, sticky with sweat and his fluids and you just want this to continue, to kneel at his feet and let him do anything to you.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, letting it finally close, and strokes his rapidly hardening bulge, inches from your face. Your mouth waters at the sight and you hear yourself whimper.

“Do you want this bulge, motherfucker?” Gamzee murmurs down at you, rubbing it against your face. You’re nodding frantically against his bulge and he says, surprisingly sharply even after this, “Then motherfucking ask me for it.”

A shock of desire runs through you at the order. “Please, highblood,” you grind out, “Please let me taste your bulge. Use my mouth, highblood, please,” and his fingers are pushing your aching jaw open again and he’s guiding his bulge between your lips and you have to take care to wrap your lips around your teeth to keep from hurting him as he pushes in.

Gamzee isn’t especially harsh, not enough to hurt you or make you gag, but he’s setting the pace, he is using you, his hand on the back of your neck controlling the movements of your head. You let him move you how he wants you, totally humbled and glad to finally be allowed to pleasure him. Desperately aroused, you try to buck against its leg, but he pulls back.

“After, my blue motherfucker, just another minute now, I’m so motherfucking close, but you gotta fucking finish me and shit before you can be all like to be doing your bad fucking thing, you know what I’m saying…”

He keeps murmuring obscenities until he comes in your mouth, holding you still on his bulge. Swallowing mouthfuls of his thick fluid, you gently lap at his softening bulge until he pulls it out of your mouth.

He gets down beside you, grinning sloppily in your face, “I bet you want this now, don’t you motherfucker…” and he’s reaching down to rub at your bulge through your shorts.

“Please,” you breathe, “highblood, please,” and you’re trying to hold your strength back but you can’t keep from pushing back against his hand, desperate to come. It only takes a minute, as hard as you are, for you to come against his hand, soaking your shorts. You groan and pant incoherently as you slump against Gamzee, trying not to grab at him but unable to hold yourself up anymore, and he holds you as you shudder against him.

You remain there for some time, too overwhelmed to move and not sure what to say to someone you’ve just induced to totally humiliate and subjugate you. Finally Gamzee starts to stir, and you open your eyes to let him know you aren’t asleep.

He’s looking at you sort of stupidly, obviously trying to suppress a grin, which makes your heart leap. You thought he might be disgusted with you for asking for these things, but instead he’s sitting there beaming at you with his arm still around your waist.

“Shit, bro,” he says to you, “I, um…was that all like motherfucking okay with you and shit? I know you wanted to like have all the bad stuff get done to you, but then I went and got all really fucking into it. You seemed like to be having a motherfucking good time but then I thought about it and maybe that was some kinds of too bad of shit, or-“

“Highblood,” you say, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “Gamzee. That was. I am…” you feel yourself getting flustered again attempting to talk about it. “That was extremely gratifying. I feel…most appropriately put in my place.” Your description is utterly inadequate, but you take his hand gently in both your palms, bowing your head as you draw it to your chest.

“So you’re like meaning to say it was motherfucking awesome?”

“Yes,” you agree, “It was most extremely – awesome.”

He finally stops trying to be serious and lets his most infuriatingly ludicrous grin spread across his face. You sink back to the floor, too tired to bother to remain upright, still holding his hand.