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In his dreams

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In his dreams, he’s scared.

There’s darkness coiling around him, wafts of heavy, waspy black waves circling around him, touching his cheeks, curling around his arms.

They feel cold, like ice, wrapping around his sleeves, slithering under his clothes, chilling his skin.

He is afraid, but he has no idea why –he doesn’t know what is happening, and for that instant, all he knows is that it’s dark, he’s afraid, and he’s


and all he wants is for it to end.

He runs.

The corridors around him are familiar, or at least a part of him recognizes them, but he can’t focus on them, he can’t focus on thinking, like his memories are greasy and slippery and his hands simply can’t take hold on them. The moment passes, and once again he’s thrown into unfamiliar, foreign territory.

The walls seem to close around him, more dark coils chasing him as he runs and he just

                   can’t stop or they’ll get him

So he tries to run faster, but his feet are heavy, his legs burn with strain, and his lungs feel like he’s breathing underwater.

He’s choking.

Faces flicker in the dark, familiar faces, scary eyes glowing between the thick mist, and he shivers and tries to close his eyes, but once again

         he’s not allowed to

                                      he can’t close his eyes

                                                                 he can’t look away.

He’s scared.

He doesn’t know why, but he is, and if he lets go, if he stops

They will get him

So he keeps running, slower and slower, his body heavy and his heart racing in his chest, and the faces are all around him, their hands stretching towards him, and the coils of darkness wrap around his arms, around his legs, slither under his shirt,

                   Every spot they touch freezes, and the cold spreads

He slumps down, but the darkness holds him up, drags him above the floor, until he’s dangling there

Like a ragdoll

And the coils aren’t hurting him, but he’s choking, he doesn’t want it, he wants to be free, he wants to scream, and the cold is spreading

And then he comes.

His face is painted, ghastly against the dark background, eyes burning hot, filling his insides with a fire that almost chases away the freezing coldness in his body, and he arches his back against the restraints when a hand fall on his cheek.

Contrary to what he expects, the motion is gentle, almost caring –it uproots him, it makes the world topple over, and the darkness tendrils rub at his skin, making it tingle.

The hand softly presses against his throat, and the pressure is painful, robbing the last of his breath away, but at the same time heat is spreading where the hand is touching and he quivers, a gasp passing through his lips

                                      He wants the touch

He doesn’t want the touch

                   He’s the one he is running from, but now that they’re close, he wonders

why is he running.

He looks up, meeting a pair of sharp, indigo eyes, and he feels himself spiralling into nothingness, the contours blurring away until the only thing that matters is his face, and those eyes, burning and filled with raw, explosive desire.

The hand moves lower.

The fingers trail down his covered chest, and the darkness tugs at his clothes, pushing them away so the hand can move freely onto the expanse of skin, touching and bringing warmth and delicious heat

                                               he’s burning

         he’s afraid


he’s not sure why he’s scared anymore.

He arches into the touch and gasps again, the sound more like a moan, when the hand roughly pushes its way into his pants, touching him, lithe, dexterous fingers wrapping around his hardening erection, teasing its shaft, pumping him delicately, like it could break

“GiVe In”.

                   He wants more, he wants it, he wants more

         Why wouldn’t he

A body is pressed against his own, and there are words whispered in the dark, a voice shifting its tone, lower then higher, then lower again, muttering reverently, whispering his name over and over


And he suddenly remembers his own name

He’s burning, and the body against his own is cool, pleasant, calming the fire inside his body, and Dave moans and writhes in the hold, pleasure mounting inside him, fingers rubbing him, a body on top of his own, demanding and unforgiving, and

                   He can’t run from the white, hot pleasure

Riding it higher–

Lips descend on his own, kissing him, and air is filling his mouth, and it burns, it makes the pleasure double until he can’t even think anymore, just feel

                   Feel and want and sob and moan




And everything explodes and Dave screams



Dave’s eyes snapped open at the feeling of something moving inside his room.

He’d never been a heavy sleeper, and every small noise was enough to shake him awake; for a moment, he blinked, unsure, and groaned.

His body was burning, tingling pleasantly, shivers running down his back and sending sparkles of pleasure through him, but he had no idea why. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about, and everything felt hazy.

                                                                  Why did he feel so–

The feeling of the soft, cool sheets against his naked back made Dave gasp softly, the need to touch himself so strong his hand moved lower on its own, brushing its way down his chest, caressing his erect cock–

Why was he naked?

He arched his back in the air, heels digging into the mattress as another wave of pleasure hit him. he was barely touching himself, but his body was already burning up with need and heat, and his lips parted in a whiny pant, unsure of what was going on, but unable to concentrate.

Everything was burning, even the air itself felt good against him, every small touch–

Gamzee emerged from the darkness in front of the bed, almost as if he’d been one with the shadows, eyes glowing eerily, sharp and penetrating.

Hazy and confused, Dave could only let out a soft, embarrassing moan as Gamzee’s eyes settled on his spread form.

Why was he–

Another wave of pleasure curled inside him, and Dave’s eyes fluttered close as he threw his head back, exposing his neck, hands scrambling to take a hold of the rumpled sheets in an attempt to reign control of the pleasure.

It was all in vain –the heat was too much, clouding his brain, making every breath heavy and every inch of his skin feel overly sensitized–

He wanted… he needed…

When Gamzee lowered himself on top of Dave, Dave could only arch up to him, bodies flushed together, and Dave’s arms wrapped around the troll’s shoulders, anchoring himself there, indigo eyes staring into his own, so close they shared their breathing, so close Dave could feel Gamzee’s low growl vibrating through his own chest.


Something was familiar –the feeling of Gamzee’s body pressed against his own, his eyes, the feeling of cool hands caressing his body, making Dave want to cry and chant Gamzee’s name over and over but he didn’t understand why

“Do YoU wAnT tHiS, mOtHeRfUcKeR?”

Gamzee’s voice rumbled close to his ear, a tongue flicking out to lick at his collarbone, and Dave almost toppled over, moaning.

His body felt heavy on top of him, fitting perfectly against his own, heightening the pleasure, and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, he wanted–


“Do YoU wAnT iT?”

“… y–yes… f–fuck… yes, I–”

Words tumbled out of his mouth, like a plea, like a sob and Gamzee’s hands were parting his legs, and something was wrapping around his cock, slick and slippery and so fucking


And Dave was only barely aware of Gamzee’s mutters as he moaned his name and clung to him, their bodies moving together, sliding and rubbing and thrusting


“ghh… Gamzee… ah–”

“MoThErFuCkInG mInE–”

Heat engulfed Dave’s brain and ate him away, until he was only aware of Gamzee’s lips touching his own, swallowing his pleas, swallowing his cries, tongue invading his mouth, tasting him owning him

He came, his entire body trembling violently and arching up, nails digging into Gamzee’s back, drawing blood, and Gamzee growled loudly into his ear, groaning, whispering

his name

                   pressing him into the mattress, almost violently–

Slumping on the bed, Dave groaned and felt heaviness press against his eyelids, and didn’t fight it, his eyes fluttering close, the last thing he saw being Gamzee’s dark eyes, the feeling of rough hands holding him close.

He didn’t dream.


Dave woke up still curled into Gamzee’s embrace, red lines covering his sides where the troll’s claws had scratched his skin, one of his nails tracing spades all over his chest.

“MoThErFuCkInG hI,” the troll murmured, his growl soft as he bit down on Dave’s ear.

Sticky, tired and achy, Dave had no energy to smack the troll away, so he glared at him, crimson eyes uncovered and bare, and allowed the troll to lick all the traces of blood away.

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” he muttered, voice raspy and barely higher than a whisper. “Creepy as shit”.

He could feel Gamzee’s lips stretch into a smirk as he continued cleaning him with his tongue.

He could remember everything. His mind was clear, even if he was tired, and he could remember every single detail of his dream, of what he felt, and what Gamzee made him feel. The troll had a grasp on his mind, the ability to read deep inside him, to know what to say, where to touch to make him react the way he wanted him to.

Dave shivered slightly when Gamzee’s tongue reached his navel, and the troll’s gaze trailed up to stare at him. His eyes looked a tinge less sharp, less dangerous, just like all the other times he’d used his creepy alien mind powers on Dave.

It was scary –the control he’d willingly given to the troll, the knowledge that if he ever wanted to stop, he might even have no chance to because he’d relinquished his brain to him… but at the same time, the deep, rooted conviction that Gamzee would never go too far.

With a sigh, Dave turned away and tried not to think about the messed up relationship the trolls called kismesis.

His life was a mess

but he didn’t really mind.