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“Do you know what a xenophile is?” I asked, smirking up at him as he pulls away to look at me.
“Oh Christ, please,” he more like groaned, “please don't.”
He sits up further, pulling farther away so he’s kneeling in front of me with his jeans still on, his hands at his side. He’s nervous. He’s insecure about more things than his blood. He’s pulled far enough away I can’t feel his body heat. My hands can’t touch him. He stares down at me blankly and I realize it’s my turn to talk.
“But do you know what it is?” I pressed, tangling my legs behind his knees. I’m still laying where he left me, my eyes trying hard to memorize every inch of him. Eventually, they settle on his bare chest and drift up to his flushed, troubled face.
“No, I don’t,” he said bluntly. He’s trying much too hard not to ruin the mood.
“It’s somebody who likes weird, alien sex,” I say almost laughing at the color he turns, and hold out my hands for him to crawl back and drape himself over me once more,
“that’s us. We both get off on this. You don’t need to be self-conscious.”
“I’m not!” He insists loudly, but then he looks away. I open and close my hands once in a “give me” motion and he caves, leaning down to press our chests together. His face buried in my neck, his lips are on my skin.
"Would you shut the hell up you face humping fucktruck?” He says into my skin. The vibrations make me shiver.
“You’re such an asshole.” He's so fun to mess with. Too easy.
“I’m not the one weirding my partner out with stupid fetishes,” he growls. His personality is just naturally angry, I know he doesn’t really mean it.
I laugh at him, “you know, some face humping could be arranged.”
“Can we not complicate things please?”
“Sure,” I say, my hands going immediately to his jeans. The button slides out of its keeper easily, and I roll them down, bunching them around his knees which are still in contact with the bed.
“It’s not, uh, I just want you to be prepared. It’s not like a human, it’s-” he’s stuttering and unsure, so I cut him off.
“Would you shut up and take your goddamn pants off?”
His temper sparks, his shoulders rising and his eyebrows furrowing, “You dumb flighty broad, I’m trying to explain something to you!”
“Like my junk ain’t gonna weird you out!” I exclaim.
He sighed, grumbled something inaudible and rolled his eyes. He took one hand away from where it rested next to me on the bed and worked his jeans the rest if the way off. He worked his briefs off next.
For a second, we were both looking down.
I wasn’t sure exactly what to make of it. Sure, he had something that kind of resembled a dick, but it didn’t have a head, and for that matter, it barely had what qualified as a shaft.
It’s gray, like his skin, but very pale and sort of shriveled, with red droplets of pre budding on the tip. It looked like something off of an animal. Long and skinny, and it thickens the closer it gets to his body. It’s coiled, and I’m not sure what the range of uncoiling it could possibly have with the shape. There’s a little, swollen spot, right near the tip, and I wonder if those are his glands.
“Oh fuck this, I can’t do this,” he said, reaching down to pull his briefs back up, but my hand covered his and he froze.
“I don’t wanna push you,” I said quietly. “But I wanna keep going if you do.”
“Yeah,” he agreed vaguely.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…” I trailed off, “I'm sorry."
He didn’t answer.
“Do you still wanna?” I asked. He nodded slowly.
I slowly pulled him back flush against me to place gentle kisses on his earlobe, down his neck, over his shoulder and back up. I reached between us, and hesitantly my fingers grazed the object between his legs, and as if it had a mind of its own, it curled around them. It was slippery and leaking from the tip, and the more I touched it, the more it gave to me, writhing hot and slick in my grip. When he groaned, it wasn’t because he was frustrated.
“Jesus Christ,” he panted, “could you be any more of a fucking tease?”
“I am so fucking flushed for you, red, hot flushed,” I whisper into his ear.
“I hate it when you use troll speak,” his teeth graze my neck, they’re sharp and it’s a warning, “it’s not natural.”
“I hate it when you're a pompous asshole. We can’t all get what we want,” I giggle, and run my tongue up the side of his neck. I blow on it next, and it’s his turn to shiver.
“I hate you,” he huffs. All I can think about is how warm he is. I wasn’t exactly sure, but his body temperature must be a good five or six degrees higher than mine. He was like hugging a walking furnace. His dick was like liquid fire.
“Oh?” I grip the moving appendage between his legs, and the pads of my fingers work him a little rougher. He moans, and it sounds like something from a porno, and God, is it hot.
My fingers worked lower on him, moving down the corkscrew and around him like some sort of fucked up bottle opener. I don’t hesitate to touch him, but I’m not exactly one hundred percent comfortable with it yet. By the sound of him, I’m doing okay, but what if I mess up?
Working back up, I spend some time on that little bump near the tip. He bucks like a champion bull in my hand, so I don’t spend too much time there. I don’t want this to be over too soon.
“Karkat?” I ask, and he shivers again before he answers.
“Yeah?”
“Would it be cool if I took my shirt off?” I question. I feel his lips on my neck again and he doesn’t even need to answer me, because his fingers are on the hem of my t-shirt and he’s lifting it up, lifting away from me momentarily to slip my shirt over my head. My hand leaves his, shit, I’m not even sure what this thing is called, but my fingers go looking for it as soon as my shirt clears my skin.
“What the hell is this thing?” He asks, and before I can ask what, the jerk snaps my shoulder with my bra strap. It doesn’t particularly hurt but my hand freezes.
“It’s a bra, you ass,” I snark, “What, girls don’t wear bras where you're from?”
“No, they don’t,” he snorts, like I’m stupid, “What’s the purpose of it?”
“Take it off and find out,” I sneer, and then the fumbling begins. The idiot has no idea what he’s doing, evident by the pulling at the straps, trying in vain to slip them down my shoulders or unhook them somewhere.
“No, look, here,” I say, and I put a hand on his chest, forcing us both to sit up. My hand leaves his crotch to grab his, leading them to my back and showing him how to unclasp my bra. As it falls away my breasts hang loose, not as perky since the cloth holding them up has gone.
“Humans are weird,” he states, and I can feel his gaze trying to understand what he was seeing, “I don’t get it, I thought humans raised live young?”
I snorted, “do trolls not?”
“No,” he states very plainly, like its normal. To him it is.
Is this really my life? I roll my eyes at him and say: “Okay, okay, enough, just, let’s stop talking about this shit before I lose my nerve.”
“Oh? What happened to all your big bad self-confidence?” I glare over at him as a smirk tugs at his mouth, “besides, answer my question, if you raise live young, why do you need these?”
I shake my head and sigh heavily, this is going south real fast. I wasn’t sure what I expected the first time I fooled around with an alien. Or vice versa.
“Lots of women breastfeed,” I inform him, “wait, why do troll girls have boobs if they don’t breastfeed?”
He shrugs, and I don’t care at this point. “That’s gross. Breastfeeding I mean.”
“You don’t hear me sayin’ anything about the tenta-dick, do you?” I shoot back, “who gives a fuck about weird anatomy, get on with it.”
“Don’t get your undies in a bunch, Jesus fuck,” he complains, and his hands go to my pants. He slows, unsure, so I assist him, taking my free hand and pushing my jeans and my panties down my hips after he unbuttons them. It’s his turn to look at my body like it's a science experiment gone wrong.
“It’s-it’s a lot different than it looked online,” he mutters, and I can only hear half of what he says. I don’t dwell on the implication he’s been doing research about my body. I would be sort of worried he’s been watching porn and getting the wrong idea but that was the last thing on my mind at the moment.
“You can touch me,” I offer. My head is swimming. I look up at him though half lidded eyes and I smirk. “It won’t bite your fingers off, just so you know.”
He’s blushing tomato red under all that gray skin, and his lips tremble hopelessly, my smart remark was forgotten. He didn’t know where to progress from here and honestly neither did I. We were both inexperienced with each other, and since my sex ed barely covered what to do with a human, I was feeling pretty lost too.
“How?” He says, and his eyes haven’t left my crotch.
“Well,” I say flatly, “just uh, rub it.”
I can feel the heat rise to my own face this time. I see the ghost of a smirk on his lips because he knows that he’s embarrassed the unembarrassable. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down with me. My lips cover his and work, slow and steady over one of the few spots of soft flesh he has. His muscles are hard, I’m reminded of that as my left-hand runs its way down his chest and stomach, his race is savage, he’s born that way.
Our kiss is wet, and it’s rough, with little flashes of teeth and hungry moans. I can feel the point of his incisors though his lips, and I’m not afraid to bleed if they cut me. Our lips separate with a wet pop, only to cover each other again and do it all over again.
Meanwhile, my hand is back on his, whatever that thing was, his dick, and the tip of it completely twists around my pointer finger and squeezes like a too tight ring. My other four fingers rub the remaining twisting five inches of him. He’s ridged like it’s got scales or suction cups, and I can’t even imagine what it’d feel like inside me. His precum, and I do hope it’s precum, drips like a red rain down my belly, pooling on the bed after it slides from my skin. The sheets are trashed.
One of his trembling fingers is gently prodding my pussy, and Jesus Christ is he a tease. He’s trying hard to be gentle, and his inexperience is clear. If he had a dick, then girl trolls must have something like a vagina. I wondered how many bases he’s covered if any at all. Shit, was he a virgin?
I didn’t ask. He’s sort of got something going with his thumb at my very entrance and the palm of his hand flat over my mound and either I was really into it or the pre-cum was an aphrodisiac because somehow his clumsy method was getting the job done. I assumed the former.
“Shit,” I swore between kisses, “push it in,” another kiss, “I need it, baby, I need it bad.”
I figure he’s got no idea what I’m talking about, but he’s certainly not stupid. It only takes a few more seconds of fumbling for him to rearrange his hands and then his pointer finger pushes inside.
“Two, baby, use two,” I urge, and I’m rewarded with another. My back arches off the bed, pushing myself into him and pinning our hands still for just a moment until he backs off a little more. His palm is up, just like I like it, and his fingers are thick inside me. He’s not sure what to do again, and I can tell by the clumsy way he’s poking me.
“Fuck me,” I gasped, “please, please.”
My hips buck into his hand, and God, it shoves his fingers just a little deeper, just south enough to reach my g-spot. He gives me more, complying with my demanding hips, and he’s rubbing harder, and moving his fingers, hard enough to make me squeal against his lips.
“More,” I say, and it’s almost inaudible because my lips don’t work while mashed to his.
“Please,” I try again, with more success, “more, faster, please.”
He responds with compliance, he increases his speed and my hips leave the bed. My thighs are squeezing, and his fingers are so thick, and my body is so urgent and insistent. I know this feeling starting to edge, I’m gonna cum and it’s gonna be earth shattering. I’m gonna cum, and It won’t be long now.
I don’t let up on his dick. He’s grabbing my bottom lip every time our lips part now, holding it between those sharp teeth, and I can taste coppery blood and feel little pinpricks. His kisses are savage, his lips are pressing harder and harder to mine, and then he finally bites me, but not on my lips. He rips his mouth away to move to more vulnerable flesh, the nape of my neck. It makes me whine, the feeling of his teeth in my skin. His tongue lapping the area clean and I can’t feel it bleeding.
I can't stand it anymore and my free hand leaves his shoulder to rub my aching clit. I only have to make a few small circles, because the combined effort is enough.
My head snaps backward, and the sound that leaves my mouth is close to a scream. He’s relentless, he keeps moving even though my hips can’t take anymore. For the first time, when they buck, they’re trying to move away from him. He growls like an animal, and his teeth are on my jaw in one, two, three places, and I can feel blood this time.
This is sensory overload, I can’t feel my legs and this Intense pleasure keeps hitting me like waves. He’s refused to let up, and finally, I have to grab his hand to make it stop. My pussy contracts around him and the rest of my muscles follow, leaving me little more than a ball of nerves.
I can hear him panting. His breath is hot and heavy on my skin.
“Did I hurt you?” He breathes, and his cock is moving still. It’s unfurled itself from my fingers in favor of my wrist, which it can’t get around. God, I notice he gets thicker the closer it gets to his body. I couldn’t answer him for a moment. When I tried nothing came out but a whine.
“Exactly the opposite,” I assure, moments after I regain control of my own body.
“Are you sure?” He asks suspiciously, “if your lying, so help me.”
“I’m sure. It felt really good,” my tone is firm. I can see his eyes set on the places he bit me, and I know he’s beating himself up about it. He beat himself up about everything.
“I’d like to do the same for you,” my tone is a little less firm, a little more sheepish. I’m panting, but not like I was.
My personal heater sighs and scowls, and then he sort of lowers himself down onto the mattress and pulls me a little closer. His tentacle cock shrinks to about half its size, and I’m more than perplexed to realize it recedes back into his body. I wonder if I’ve said something wrong. It’s leaking less than it was too. I’m not sure if I should continue.
“I just need a breather,” he says, and I think he’s overwhelmed.
“Take your time,” and I hope my words are reassuring. He’s being very affectionate, for someone like him anyway, an alien. (I don’t like to use that word. He’s a person.) I know he’s trying just for me. I know on his planet showing somebody else your vulnerable spots- your neck, your face, - is grounds to be attacked and possibly killed. His race is savage, I’m reminded again.
I’m drawing aimless circles on his bare chest when I first hear it. When I look up, his red eyes are closed and I can see one of his incisors poking out of his slack lip. He’s relaxed, I realized. And he’s making a rumbling noise deep in his throat, like a rhythmic purr.
I want to come closer to him, but I don’t. I don’t push it.
He’s been trying so hard to be human during this whole thing, and it relaxes me too. To be how his own nature tells him to be. He’ll share this moment with me and I’m grateful.
I wait for him to reach out but he never does, so I decide to make a move. I lace our fingers together, and he lets me. This is nice, I think.
He opens his eyes moments later and his gaze goes back to the bite marks on my face. I offer him a smile but he doesn’t return it. Instead, he uses the hand he’s holding to push me onto my back.
He makes a noise that sounds like a tiger chuff and pins my arm above my head. He sounds like he’s blowing air through his vocal cords, and as strange as it is I’m not weirded out. The purr has faded and he’s silent again, but only because his mouth is back over the bite marks. His tongue works over them like he’s trying to erase them, but they aren’t going anywhere.
“Karkat?” I hush.
He makes a noise like “hmm?” deep in the back of his throat.
“Would you let me blow you?” I ask, and move away from him in a hurry to nip at his ear. He doesn’t seem to mind I moved because he starts working on another bite mark he left.
“Are you sure you wanna do that?” He questions, and he chuffs again, right in my ear. It makes me shiver.
“Yeah,” I breath back.
He lay in the same spot, still licking at my raw skin. I thought maybe he wasn’t interested in a blowjob until he moved, coming completely off of me. I could see his red eyes though the dark, and I was sure he could see me a lot better than I could see him. I got off the bed as he slid his legs over the side and settled slowly in front if him, my hands resting on either of his knees.
“Don’t try and close your mouth around me, you’ll choke,” he says, his hands on my head. He’s sort of petting me, like a dog, and so I decide to get to work.
Whatever this thing between his leg is, it’s mostly curled up back into his body. My face is between his spread thighs. Hesitantly, I swipe my tongue up the length of him. He shivered.
I tried to continue, but I don’t get the chance. The gyrating, twisting object wouldn't hold still. My lips smacked the ridged skin each time I went to lick him, knotting and wriggling away only to prod my lips with the tip. I didn’t think he was controlling it, not by the way he whined.
He was, for lack of a better word, unsheathing himself. It eased out of him slowly, and sloppily, coated in more red liquid. His prods to my lips are getting harsher, and there’s more of him thrashing on my chin, on my nose, on my cheeks.
Finally, I just give up. I open my mouth, letting him in.
He enters, pushing past my lips to fill my mouth. It feels full too, like theirs no possible way anything else can fit. I can feel the squirming appendage pushing on my cheeks, and on the roof of my mouth, but it stays away from my throat.
I use my tongue like a guide, pushing him back into line the best I can. I let him coil around anything he can get purchase on. Once I’ve got him right where I want him, I roll my lips over my teeth and suck.
The ridges on him feel strange. They’re the first things I notice as I slide down him and back up. I don’t linger on the thought he’s probably ribbed for pleasure. I suck him down, down as far as I can and hollow out my cheeks.
Immediately I’m sputtering. His red precum is hot, so I don’t know how I possibly forgot about it. I open my mouth to relieve the flood, sending saliva mixed scarlet down the front of me. It drips down my skin, thin and stringy. His hand is on my shoulder, pulling me off him.
“I told you not to close your mouth,” he sounds like he’s scolding me.
“Yeah,” I agree, panting. I try to lean back into him, to try again, but his hand is firm. He won’t allow it.
“No, just take a second,” he urges.
He’s looking down at me and I know I’m all doe-eyed looking back at him. His cock is still twitching, churning against his belly.
“Fuck, you look hot painted in my genetic material,” he says finally. When he realizes what he just said, we both flush.
“Do you think this stuff will hurt me?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“I’m not sure, I don't think so though.”
“Yeah?” I hum, rubbing some of the thin liquid between my fingers, “I’m a mess.”
“I feel kinda bad for you?” He states like its a question, and he uses a clean hand to pin a sticky lock of my hair behind my ear.
“That’s a nice thing to say to somebody who loves you,” the sarcasm drips from my voice as I roll my eyes.
“You, you love me?”
“Oh, shit, fuck, shit,” I swore, and I facepalm.
“I think we’re saying the same thing to each other,” he states plainly, “shit, this is so fucking-. Shit. Okay, fuck. Pity is sort of the equivalent?”
“I wish- oh shit. I wish I would have conveyed it better,” I said hurriedly.
“Jegus Christ on a two-wheeled device,” he mutters. It was his turn to facepalm. “It was me who should have conveyed it better. I’m such a fucking skum sucking-”
“Karkat?” I ask, cutting him off.
“Yeah?”
“It’s okay,” I assured him.
He cleared his throat, his eyes dancing over the room before they settled back on me. “Yeah.”
“Can I uh,” I don’t know why I’m so shy now, “can I try again?”
“I think I’m good,” he mutters.
“Are you sure I can’t..?”
“It’s not about reciprocation. It’s about, well, I’m really confused now. But it felt good, and I’m kinda overwhelmed, so let’s stop for tonight,” he sighs.
I nod and take his hand as he offers it, pulling me back up onto the bed and straight into his arms. His touch is tame, and when he kisses my cheek it’s chaste. His fingers sort of dance on my bare skin, not digging or scratching, just feeling. My arms wrap slowly around his shoulders and squeeze. This is the best I’ve felt all night.
“Is this okay?” He whispers. As if cuddling is dirtier than anything we’ve done.
“Yeah,” I breathed. I felt his chest swell with a sigh.
“I wanna make slow, sweet love to you when the time comes, when I get up the nerve,” he professes. I can’t help but giggle.
“That’s so cheesy.”
He just sort of hums, nuzzling his nose into my cheek. “It’s true.”
“Then you can make slow, sweet love to me when it’s time and when you get up the nerve,” I say, my hands skating down his arms and to his hips.
“I’m sorry I ruined your sheets, and got your mattress all wet, and,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, “I’m sorry I bit you.”
“The sheets were old,” I assured him, “and it didn’t hurt. I’ll just put some Neosporin on it. The marks’ll be gone soon. I uh, liked that thing you did. The noise. Earlier. It was kinda cute and kinda hot.”
This time I can feel his throat swell as he chuffed again, right into my skin with a sly grin. “That one?”
“Yes!” I practically squeal, and he does it again and again, hands crawling up my sides, not quite tickling.
“It’s like a dominance display,” he explains without prompting. “Like, to tell your partner, hey, look, I’m big and bad. It’s okay to be vulnerable because I’ll protect you.”
“Oh yeah?” I smirked, “you’re gonna protect me, buck ass naked?”
“Hell yes I’m going to,” he snarked, “I’ll defend you with my mutant nubby horns until the earth-cow-hoofbeasts come home.”
“Mm, defend me on the couch. It's dry there.”
“Want clothes?” He asked, pulling my shirt from somewhere I couldn’t see.
“Nope!” I reply, popping my p, “just you and a blanket. Maybe some water.”
“If you throw in a Lifetime movie I’m in,” he jokes, and I affirm that yes, that sounds good.
It’s cold in my little house, so I try to stick close to him. We make a pit stop in the bathroom to clean up, but that’s short lived. We drag the bed blankets to my couch and settle down. I let him do all of the arranging as I grab us each a bottle of water.
It’s one in the morning in my otherwise dark living room, so for sure Lifetime movie network is pulling out all of its worst movies it’s been saving all day. I don’t complain though because Karkat genuinely likes them. He’s just sat down and he’s already pretty engrossed. He’s trying to watch the movie, but he’s also fussing quite a bit with the blankets. He makes sure I’m covered up adequately enough twice, moving pillows and shuffling blankets to my other side. I realize he’s sort of made us a nest, and he keeps somehow getting closer.
“It’s a good thing I don’t do quadrants,” he huffs, finally satisfied with the blankets. “Because this is a red-pale smearing mess.”
“It’s all the same to me,” I tell him. I reach across his chest and pull myself into his lap. He leans down onto the couch, resting is head on a pillow propped up on the armrest. I rest mine on his chest.
I shift my leg, trying to get comfortable, and the outside of my thigh brushes his pelvis and- it’s just. Bare? Null. What? I remembered his dick sort of retracting back inside of him but I hadn’t expected it to be bare down there.
“Karkat er, uh, can I ask a question?”
“Sure.”
“Where’s your uh, like your dick? Like where does it go?”
I watch a sort of realization click on to his face.
“Do you mean my bulge? It’s on the inside. Here,” his hand covers mine and they snake down between us, between his legs and he’s forcing my fingers, roughly, onto his smooth skin. Something parts and I can feel folds there not unlike my own. “That’s a nook. When it inverts it’s called a bulge.”
I’m so confused. “Are you saying it turns inside out? To make a dick? Bulge. Whatever.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” he agreed.
What? “What?”
“Look, so, all baby trolls are born from the mother grub. She makes the eggs, trolls provide the slurry, the fertilization. It’s not a dick or a vagina. They don’t function the same and they both produce slurry.”
I kind of just stared at him for a moment. I think. I think he was trying to tell me that all trolls functioned like a human male? I guess that was kinda cool. Lots of room for gender expression if everyone’s junk was the same. No wonder trolls were pansexual.
“Okay,” I nodded, removing my hand from between his hips. “I think I got it.”
“Good,” he replied, kissing the top of my head, “any more questions for teacher?”
“No,” I muttered into his skin.
“Even better. Hey,” I can feel his chest swell as he puffs with pride, “flushed for you. And by that I mean I love you.”
I can’t contain my smile as I scoot up to kiss his lips. “Love you too, flush mate.”
That makes him laugh. “Matesprit,” he corrects.
“Matesprit,” I parrot back. I like the way that feels on my tongue.