Gamzee's bare feet were quiet on the floor of the steel hallway, he stalked as carefully as he could, but still couldn't shake the on-edge feeling, the fear that any moment he'd hear that voice again or feel a giant hand grab him from the back of his neck. He knew it was too early for Amalthea to be awake, it was close to three in the afternoon, no hard working troll worth his meat would be wasting the few hours of sleep a day where the nightmares came the fewest and the farthest between. Though Gamzee had no illusions about his own worth, the only thing worth anything left in his life was at the end of this hallway, behind an ugly-ass metal door.
It had taken almost a perigee before he'd found out Tavros had survived his operation and had his legs replaced, longer still before he'd been able to see them with his own eyes, but the circumstances under which he got to see Tavros were usually so foul they weren't worth remembering. Especially not now, not in these few, fragile motherfucking minutes where he actually managed to sneak out of his block and speak with his bro on his own terms, with his own voice. A half a foot of steel didn't feel like no thing compared to what was usually between them when they saw each other; one mean motherfucker of an ancestor and a whole world of hurt.
Approaching the door, he slid up beside it and and knocked gently three times before kneeling on the ground to get closer to the slot at the base of the door where plates of food were sometimes passed through to the prisoners on the other side. It was a few minutes before he heard some shifting that meant someone was nearby on the other side.
"Hello?" It was Tavros's voice. Logically, it wouldn't be anyone but Gamzee at this hour, the hour he always visited Tavros, but just in case he'd been discovered, Tavros always answered as if he was confused at who could be calling this late in the day.
"It's me, brother." Gamzee spoke low, quiet. He had trained the voices more and more over the last sweep, he could control the volume of his words easier these days, which was a blessing, considering all the sneaking around he did. There was a pause and more shifting, then Tavros' voice came much clearer, he must've sat down too.
"I thought you might not come, today." His voice sounded scratchy, noticeably deeper than it was when they were fresh off Alternia.
"Why not? I come every half perigree I can, Tav, I ain't missed one once."
"I think maybe, you should start."
"Start what?"
"Missing some."
Gamzee frowned.
"Did I fuck up again? If I did you can tell me, I ain't above admitting when I've-"
"No, you didn't, do anything. But, it's not safe. He's going to catch you, and soon."
"He ain't no omnipotent, hear all, see all, fuck all motherfucker alright? He's a powerful piece of SHIT." Gamzee's voice rose for a second, and he looked behind him before he resumed, a little quieter. "But even shit gotta sleep sometimes."
"I still think, you underestimate him..."
"Look, motherfucker, can we not talk about that fucker right now? Every fucking conversation...he already runs the whole rest of our lives, you know?"
"Yes, Gamzee. I do know that, actually." Tavros's voice darkened and Gamzee flinched.
"Right..."
There was an awkward pause before Tavros's voice sounded again, softer this time.
"How's your training going? You were taller the last time I, uh, saw you..."
"The old fuck keeps me working, that's the motherfucking truth." He rolled his shoulder, still feeling pains in his joints . "I'll bet he thinks if he lets me slack any I'll start thinking, figuring ways out of this hole in the sky. You know what they say about idle hands and shit."
"No, what do they say?"
Gamzee paused. "I...don't know. I guess they ain't said a thing about idle hands, now that I think after it. Shit, I don't even know who 'they' are..."
"Gamzee."
"Yeah?"
"I'm thinking about maybe, ending it."
Gamzee's eyes widened and he slid himself down low in a hurry, trying to see through the slot in the door, he could see metal kneecaps and Tavros's scarred hand for a second before it moved out of view.
"Tav, no. You can't okay? We talked about it, and it ain't in you!That's what you said right?" He couldn't help the manic edge from seeping into his voice. "It ain't what you're ABOUT, all leaving me and your ancestor alone with that FUCKSTACK."
"Gamzee, quiet! He'll hear you-"
"Tell me you're not going to kill your own motherfucking self, brother." Gamzee spoke slowly. There was a long minute of silence where he didn't let himself breathe.
"...It's been two sweeps, Gamzee. I can't even remember what Tinkerbull smelled like. I forget what the wind felt like on my face, I-"
"Tell me it, tell me all what it's like. I can help you." Gamzee said with sentiment so genuine that it felt old and raw in his chest, like a bumped bruise. He blushed. "Or ...get pale with your brown brother in there, just-"
"No, it's okay. I want to talk to you."
Gamzee felt wingcritters flap about in his pump cavity, but pushed them down. He wasn't red with Tavros, he wasn't anything with Tavros. Too bad Tavros was everything to him, too bad and too damn irrelevant.
"Then get talking." Gamzee replied, hearing a sigh soft behind the door. He got in a more comfy position on the floor, arms crossed under his chin.
"I don't want to die but, I can't live like this, not the whole rest of my life."
"You wont, I said I'll get you out and it was a meant thing. You just got to hold on."
"I can't sleep, when I do sleep all I have are nightmares. He doesn't give us sopor..."
Gamzee shut his eyes and bit at his arm.
"...and...I'm just, I'm in pain. All the time, everything hurts and I'm starting...starting to..."
He faded out. Gamzee reached his fingers through the slot, palm up and when warm digits met his, he squeezed tight.
"...I'm starting to hate myself. I've never done that, before. I mean, I never had much confidence, but, I never thought I deserved, the things, that happened to me."
"You don't."
"But, I-"
"Tavros, you motherfucking listen to me right now." Gamzee felt the hair-spikes at the back of his neck stand on point. He tried not to squeeze Tavros's hand too hard as he whispered furiously. "You do not, and I mean that as much as I ever meant a thing in all my sweeps, you do NOT deserve what he does by you. You deserve the universe, motherfucker, and all the good it got to offer, if there's any left. And I'm gonna get it for you."
"I want to believe that, but, I don't."
"That's okay. I'll believe it for the both of us." He patted Tav's hand beneath the door, stroking his thumb with his own. "I've got a plan. Just hold on and don't do nothin' we'll regret."
Gamzee heard some muttering on the other side but couldn't make it out it was so quiet, then suddenly Tavros's hand had pulled away.
"You should probably, go."
"Promise me first, brother. Promise me you'll hold on."
There was a silence so long and dark Gamzee started to listen to the voices again just for something to DROWN IT OUT. He couldn't do this without Tavros. Still, he knew the shit Tavros went through was beyond any suffering he'd wish on even his worst motherfucking enemy, it wasn't like he could blame him if he cracked. That wouldn't be on Tavros though, that'd be his own failing, his own motherfucking fault. He'd been the one to carry Tavros into this hell like a dumbshit deadpanned idiot. He had be the one to get him out.
Because if he didn't...well it didn't matter what kind of years he had left by virtue of his blood, If Tavros decided to check out early, Gamzee would just have to pack his bags and tag along.
There was the sound of delicate mechanisms working as Tavros stood.
"...Alright, I promise."
Gamzee stood too, he put his hand against the metal in front of him and imagined he could feel Tavros' warmth radiating from it.
"I ain't giving up on you, bro."
"I'll talk to you later, Gamzee." There was something clipped and stiff in his voice.
"...Yeah, okay. I'll go. Say hi to-"
"Yeah, I will."
"A'ight then...uh. Bye." Feeling confused and alone Gamzee drew back from the door, irrationally keeping on eye on it, as if there were a chance it would open, until he'd turned the first corner to the hallway leading back to his block.
Tavros sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, feeling little scars everywhere.
"I know you're awake." He said suddenly.
Rufio shifted on the sleeping platform, wincing as the dull ache that curled around behind his organs and along his spine gave a throb in protest at moving. It had only been a few sleep cycles since the Highblood had last used him, gently, goddamn gently, dropping him on the ground when he had been to exhausted to walk himself, his legs limp and rubbery.
He probably would have just kept on lying there, claw marks bleeding and gasping as he tried to get his breathing under control, and willing his bulge to retreat back inside already, the Highblood hadn't taken care to undo him. If Tavros hadn't been there to grab him under the arms and drag him to the ablutions chamber, he would have just lain there until a food dish was shoved into his side. It had brought him back to himself, back to the world.
Tavros caught on quickly to what he needed, like... like a devoted moirail should. That was what they were now, after all. It sent a warm feeling to his chest, to know that he was no longer alone, as much as it filled him with self-disgust at his own feelings. Tavros, should not have been brought here, should not have had to suffer.
The two sweeps that he had spent here had not been kind to him. The wriggler fat that had clung to his cheeks was gone, drained away leaving a leaner face, more square than his own. It reminded him more of The Highblood's jaw, wide and thick. He had been hoping that Tavros had been from a coupling with Mindfang, but the more time went, the more he thought less of that.
Tavros had grown taller, his new legs had to be replaced and adjusted every few perigrees, he was now almost up to Rufio's own height. There was no telling how much taller Tavros would have gotten had he retained his flesh and bone legs. The metal ones the Highblood had commissioned for him were stunning to behold. Lean and made more for style than function. The only thing ugly about them was the Capricorn sign in indigo that had been woven into their design.
Surprisingly, he had retained most of his muscle, even with the minimal amount of food they were given. There was not much to do when the Highblood wasn't with them. Tavros had taken to doing pushups after he had taught him how, and other workouts that one could do with just themselves in a tiny, barren block. Even if he had let his muscles wither, his frame had only shown signs of growing and he would have still been wider than him. He desperately tried not thinking about the comparisons and how Mindfang had been small shouldered, even for a woman.
There was only one thing that hadn't grown, and that was Tavros' wings. There hadn't been any sign of them coming in. No bumps or movement of muscle groups on his back or even the beginnings of new groups. He didn't know whether to be relieved that they weren't going to form, only to be torn out or mutilated, or despairing at the thought that Tavros would never taste the joy of flying.
It was for the best, he always told himself, every time he did his physical checks on Tavros' back.
He shifted again, trying to find the position that brought him the least pain. Experience taught him it was having his body mostly on its side, with his boney knees brought up slightly and his spine curved outwards. He couldn't lay his head down on its side, it would mean having to lean on his horns. They were numb, mostly, but he would be putting pressure on his skull if he did so and that would be uncomfortable.
His back was to the doorway, and he could not see what Tavros was doing, but judging from the scraping sound, he was using what small nails he had to scrape at the ground in an attempt to make pictures, sitting underneath the table.
He shifted his knees a bit higher and the pain lessened slightly, then he heard the three knocks
His descendant hurried to the door, crouching by it, the gears and metal scraping and groaning. He didn't have to be facing the door to recognize who would be on the other side, or strain his ears for the voices. It was the Highblood's spawn, the youth Gamzee.
He grit his teeth and fisted a hand as he thought about Gamzee. He tried to warn Tavros repeatedly against the youth, ever since he had first knocked on their door. Tavros was young and thought he actually cared. He may have acted like he cared, but he was a highblood through and through. They all eventually showed their roots and their utter disregard for those deemed lower. It led to plenty of fights between them, ones where they wouldn't speak for hours.
When Gamzee came around, he tried to give Tavros some kind of privacy. It had been one of the reasons he had started to sleep with his back to the doorway, as much as it made him uncomfortable. He tried not to listen to their conversations. He played at being asleep.
The room was small enough that he couldn't outright ignore what his descendant was saying. It was mostly the same. The highblood talking about his own life, his ancestor, as much as he tried to avoid the topic, then...
He felt his blood pusher freeze when Tavros talked about, 'ending it'. It made his blood run cold and his breath catch and die in his throat.
Tavros, wanted to die. He didn't blame him, even he wanted to die. He lost track of the ways he had tried, often desperately, to rid himself of existence. He hadn't tried since Tavros had arrived, even stopped thinking about it, focusing more on ways to get him out.
Tavros... Tavros had never tried though, never even mentioned wanting to when they jammed. He had the means to do so, theoretically. The Highblood had let him keep his claws and teeth.
Tavros could chew through his wrists. Could drive his hands through his neck or stomach, or into his eyes and brain. But, from what he knew of Tavros, what he had grown to know about him, was that it wasn't in him.
Tavros was not a being of violence, often shying away from threats and going meek. He wouldn't have it in him to take his own life.
Would he ask for help?
No, he wouldn't, that was not in his nature either. He would have to offer. He would be able to, for all of Tavros' muscle, he was still stronger. He could snap his neck, he could strangle him to death. Then he would be alone. That thought froze him more. He, he would be alone. There would be no one to come back to. No moirail to get him back up, to get him back alive. No goal to plan towards-
There would be no hope.
"...Alright, I promise."
Those words brought him back, and he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The sudden expansion of his chest sent a twinge of pain through his insides and he twitched in pain, letting out a small noise of discomfort.
He cursed himself and tried to stay still, hoping that his descendant hadn't heard him. His voice was clipped with Gamzee, and he shooed him away. He still held onto the thought that Tavros just didn't want to speak with him anymore, but then he heard him turn and speak, and knew that there was no hiding. He looked over his shoulder towards his descendant.
"Will you kill yourself?" He asked. He offered no apologies, they would be useless. There was mild panic in his words and he felt shame in even feeling it, let alone having it enter his voice. He hoped his descendant didn't pick up on it.
"I promised him I wouldn't. So, I wont." Tavros shrugged and wandered over to sit on the edge of the bed. "He says, he's going to rescue me, that he has a plan."
He couldn't help the snort that came out. He didn't trust that highblood for a second. The highblood had been saying that for the last two sweeps. If Gamzee did get Tavros out, it would only be to lock him somewhere else, by himself and for himself.
He felt the bed move as Tavros sat down and he forced himself to shift, ignoring his pain so he could at least look his descendant in the face. Tavros was taller than him, when they were sitting side by side, it made him uncomfortable.
He knew it was Tavros, and his build was not anywhere near the monstrosity of the Highblood, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had been growing steadily as Tavros did. He moved to sit up and lean against the wall, so they were closer in height, wincing as his insides protested.
"You've tried it, right? When you were younger, but, he stopped you." Tavros shifted, pulling his legs onto the bed and lying down flat. His horns had grown larger too in the past sweeps, almost spanning the width of the headboard.
Rufio felt his wrists itch.
If the skin on his wrists hadn't been worn raw countless times, there would have been different scars there. If you tore the skin and muscle away to look at his bones, you would have undoubtedly seen the tell tale marks of fangs.
"Yes. Countless times."
He shifted, making space for Tavros. His horns took up so much room, how much longer would they grow?
He tugged at the young troll, pulling him closer so his head was touching his legs and started carding his fingers through his hair. Tavros stared at the ceiling, contemplatively.
"Do you think he'd stop me, too?"
"He would." Rufio said, scared hands carefully going through his hair. It was getting longer, almost to his chin. His voice came out calmer than he thought it would. He didn't feel the need to add more. It was unsaid that the Highblood never let anyone go unless he himself grew bored of them. His, enjoyment, of Tavros didn't seem to be lessening any...
Tavros closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of the dull fingers running across his scalp, tugging gently at his hair. There were nights where the two of them would do nothing but sit like this, Rufio would pet his hair or rub his aching muscles. Sometimes he would tell stories, of both history and fiction, other times it was too painful to speak and the only sounds were the soft sighs of their pale interactions.
Tavros was a different person than he used to be. Gamzee never seemed to change except in physical ways that frightened him more each time they met face to face. Rufio was still as broken as he ever was, his inner fire a pilot light that refused to die. But Tavros...
He felt so far from the stuttering innocent he used to be, practicing his lancing and dreaming of fights with pirates in a world of magic, that he wouldn't recognize that person if you sat him right down in front of him.
He no longer blushed, or balked. He rarely smiled. He didn't fight.
But he could still feel.
He reached above his head and grabbed Rufio's hand in his, bringing it down to his lips to kiss the scars on his wrist. Then he clutched it to his chest.
"Are you still sore?" He asked.
Rufio soaked in the pale warmth that emanated from his descendant. Tavros took as much reassurance as he did from these actions. He liked spending moments like this. It was one of the easiest ways to pass the time.
His hand froze when Taros grabbed it, bringing it to his mouth, kissing and asking. He shifted, testing himself out. He was sore, but, it wouldn't do him any more harm to...
"Not much." He gripped Tavros' hand in his lightly.
Tavros sat up slowly and turned to face Rufio, shifting forward until he was almost in the others lap. He put his hands flat against the wiry chest in front of him. They locked eyes for a second before Tavros leaned forward and kissed the side of Rufio's neck, just below his jaw line.
"Lie down." He whispered.
There was a need in those brown eyes, so similar and different than his own, not a physical need, but something else, something less tangible.
Rufio lifted his head back, baring his throat to Tavros, shivering at his breath. It was at times like this, where the lined blurred, and he saw Mindfang. She would do something so much similar, but with more teeth. It sent a shiver down his spine and he pushed those thoughts away.
Tavros needed him here, not in the past. The little spark that was always there telling him to fight, even when he had no need to. He squashed it down like all the times before when Tavros... did this.
He needed this, and it was something he could give him. He followed his directions and allowed himself to be guided down onto his back, there were no wings to be careful of, they had been pulled out god knows how long ago, and would take perigrees to grow back. His arms hung limply at his sides, not moving unless Tavros directed it.
With a sigh Tavros lowered himself onto Rufio kissing him gently, open mouthed. He couldn't stay like that for long, his horns weighed him down, but he waited until Rufio kissed back before pulling away and sitting on top of him.
His eyes didn't leave Rufio's as he undid his loincloth and pulled it away, letting it drop beside them. Tavros himself didn't wear clothes, of any kind, other than the metal collar around his neck and ones shackled on his wrists. With his metal lower half, the Highblood hadn't thought them necessary, he guessed.
He'd thought a few other things were necessary though.
With a practiced move, Tavros undid a latch on his groin and his bulge slipped neatly out of him. It was a shiny metal alloy, completely silver, yet didn't seem to have any catches or ridges at all. It must have cost a fortune to design, he'd often thought. What a stupid waste. Still, it felt smooth as serpent beast skin in his hands and it made him feel...something. Whatever they had done to him on that operating slab, It had given him back some of the feeling he'd lost as a wriggler. Enough to make his breath catch if he touched himself just right. He let his shoulders drop slightly and relax. Once he had, he reached for Rufio's again and guided their joined hands back to his artificial bulge.
"Touch me."
Tavros' kisses always burned him. So soft and gentle, they made him go back to the times he was with Mindfang, in her cabin, tearing at eachother's clothing and sharing breathless kisses and happy nips. He became lost in memory every time, taking a second to respond. They never lasted long though, and Tavros would retreat the second he started to reciprocate, he let out a chur at the loss without meaning to. When he moved away, his eyes found Tavros' again.
He didn't drop his gaze as he rid him of his 'clothing', shifting his hips to allow the thin cloth to be stripped from under him. Tavros' gaze was intense, piercing and commanding, much like Mindfangs' had been, so far from the mad, consuming looks the Highblood gave. It made his chest tighten.
He only looked down when he heard a click of a latch. He watched as his descendant's shoulders relax, the tension bleeding out as his metallic bulge slid out. Tavros' 'bulge' was something he could never get used to, despite how many times they had been together. It was long and wide, wider than his own. Shiny and smooth, smoother than a bulge should be and unrelenting inside when a normal bulge would have some give. He couldn't decide if it was better or worse being fucked by that, or being fucked by the Highblood. He didn't know how it even worked, or if it even mattered if Taros was aroused. IT always seemed to be ready.
His hand was limp when Tavros reached for it, and guided it to himself. He followed the orders without question, grasping it more tightly than he would have on a normal bulge. Tavros didn't have much feeling in it, but he knew how to hold it, how to stroke and grip to make him feel good.
He let his fingers trail up the side and dug his thumb into its 'base', where it would retract into itself when put away. He looked back up at Tavros, to watch him, hoping the subtle pheromones his descendant was putting out would start working on him soon.
Tavros keened and leaned backward, closing his eyes. Letting himself feel that something, that moment of peace and control he only felt when he'd given an order and had it followed. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Rufio was staring at him, still sheathed and unaroused, eyes focused but unreadable.
He detached Rufio's hand and grasped both of them in his own, holding them over Rufio's head.
"Why are you looking at me, like that?" He ground his hips downward until he felt something move in response.
"I'm sorry I said, that I'd kill myself, if that's it." He looked down and watched as Rufio's bulge slithered out, just slightly alongside his own. It felt warm, the coolant that ran through his legs had lowered his body temperature slightly. He stared down at Rufio, who was still stony faced.
"I don't see, why, you'd be mad at me. Ah!" Tavros gasped as Rufio's bulge slipped underneath his, sweeping close to the edge his synthetic nook. "You want to die, too." He moaned.
Rufio focused on how Tavros moved, how he shifted and how pleased he was at being touched and followed, tried so hard to will his bulge to come out. Tavros' legs dug into his hips, not exactly sharp, but heavy and cold, so cold. It made it harder for him to stay in the present. Mindfang had been so close to this coolness, like the sea during the hot season. Refreshing.
He forced himself to be in the present, his descendant deserved it, but his legs and his bulge were so cold...
He let his arms be pinned above his head, Tavros leaned in closer, his descendant wasn't producing many pheromones, hardly anything, just like every other time. He had spent time and time again, thinking about these... acts, after the fact. About Tavros' needs.
He didn't answer his descendant, only gasping slightly as those two cool legs drove their groins together, hitting just the right pressure, something both familiar and distant. The position was so familiar, when he would piss Mindfang off, and she would get rougher with him.
He could almost hear her laugh and her disparaging remarks, playfull and pitiful.
"No, It's not- I am not angry..." He railed off into a hiss, his hips trying to buck a bit under his descendant's weight. He closed his eyes, so Tavros would not have to look at something that offended him.
He willed his bulge back away from Tavros' false nook. He knew it would be cool in there, slick and soft. They'd never done that though, not here, not when they were alone.
Tavros switched out holding one of Rufio's wrists, and began to fist their bulges together. He started slow and got gradually harder, faster.
"Do you want me, inside you, then?" He asked, roughly. His breath becoming harsher.
Rufio gasped, pressing his head back into the sheets, bearing his throat. His bulge twined with Mindfa-Tavros' cooler one. It made his toes curl and his legs strain. His arm stayed where Tavros had left it, gripping his other hand, blunt nails not causing any harm at all, but digging in.
He was sore on the inside, his inner muscles burning slightly, but his nook was wet... They had never entered each other during these times, but, if Tavros wanted to, he would be fine with it. It would help him separate him from her...
"It, it is your choice." It was the basis for their couplings, and he would not take that away from Tavros, any move made here, would be his.
Tavros stopped moving his hand, stopped moving entirely, and stared down at Rufio.
"That's not what I asked. I asked, do you want me to?"
He couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips when Tavros' hand stopped, his hips bucking and his bulge twisted, trying to get more friction.
He cracked his eyes open, trying to judge his descendant's mood, trying to decide his next words. He was focused, his body tense above his. He looked, nervous. Was he fearing rejection?
He shifted underneath him again, his body twinging in pain. It made him think of the Highblood, and how their couplings ended, how even the times when Tavros was used to fuck him had always been dictated by that bastard. It had always been hard and painful and left him almost numb for hours.
"... Yes."
Tavros nodded and bit his lip for a second before lowering himself down slowly until they were skin to skin. He kissed Rufio's collarbone and gently nudged his chin up with his forehead so he could kiss his neck.
His hands found Rufio's hips and ran down his thighs to his knees, pulling them apart slightly and sliding between them. His bulge slid neatly, obediently to the crook of Rufio's inner thigh and groin.
"I want you to tell me, what, exactly, it is you want, from me." Tavros said in a soft voice, speaking into the skin of Rufio's throat. "Everything. What makes you feel good, what, doesn't. Promise me?"
Rufio could not help the flinch at having his legs spread, he almost snapped them shut before reminding himself that this was Tavros, not the Highblood, and he forced himself to relax. He let his head be tipped up and shivered at Tavros' breath and lips on his neck.
He felt the others' bulge resting on his thigh, unnaturally smooth, but thankfully warmer than the Highblood's. It was familiar and he couldn't help looking around, expecting a large silhouette sitting across the room with a faygo and a grin with too many teeth.
He tried to keep the tremors out of his his body and could hardly hear Tavros speak. He swallowed, then brought his hands to Tavros' back, scarcely resting them over his shoulder blades.
He licked his lips
"Yes."
He tried to splay his legs a little wider, try to give his descendant more room. His hands were shaking.
Leaning forward, Tavros kissed Rufio on the mouth and the very tip of his bulge slithered inside him. Rufio was loose, and wet, and warm, but he still moved slowly, as carefully as possible. He felt Rufio tense up and brought his arms up to pap him gently on his chest, rubbing in circles until he relaxed somewhat.
"It's just me. It's only me..." Tavros whispered, in between soft, slow kisses. "You can...you can close your eyes, if you want."
He kissed back, matching Tavros' gentleness. He forced his muscles to relax, ignored the desire to fight and kick and bite. Sweeps worth of learned reactions were not easy to break and his fingers dug into Tavros' back. It was close, too close. He loosened them when he felt Tavros' gentle papping, small and rhythmic. Something the Highblood had never done.
He was grateful when Tavros suggested closing his eyes. The Highblood... it was one of the things he had always forbade, going as far as to use clamps and head pieces to keep them open. He focused on Tavros and his actions and his voice. It made something warm bloom in his chest and he moved his face forwards, searching for Tavros' mouth.
Tavros watched until his ancestor closed his eyes before meeting his lips and closing his own. Letting the darkness fall on him like a warm sheet. Feeling the power, the peace and even, though he'd never said the word out loud, something comparable to what he supposed love would feel like.
Rufio concentrated on the smell of Tavros, but it was a fight to stay relaxed. Tavros' bulge had settled deep inside, stretching the sore muscles of his insides. It didn't burn, hardly at all compared to the other times he had been pailed while still recovering, but it brought him back to those times, all those times where he had screamed himself hoarse and scraped his fingertips raw. Where the pain had been greater than any pleasure he may have gotten. This was Tavros. The Highblood would not be this gentle. There would be more pain, much more, and claws and teeth. This, this was Tavros.
Tavros sighed and stilled his hips, letting his bulge move on it's own. Sliding gently in and out, rubbing soft lines and patterns on Rufio's insides. There was a predictability to it which was comforting, and so, so unlike sex as Tavros knew it to be. He groaned and opened his eyes again.
That was a mistake.
Rufio's eyes were shut, but his face was tense and not in pleasure. Jaw set, eyebrows twitching inward and lip curling as if he were trying with every inch of himself to relax, but could not.
Fuck him like I fuck him, pet.
As if he were fighting not to fight.
Harder! make him scream for me...
In an instant Tavros had shoved off and pulled out, stumbling away from the bed. His shoulder hit the wall and he doubled over, trying not to retch.
"Oh god...I'm sorry. I'm-" Tavros tried to explain, before his digestive sack lurched again and he fell to his knees, gagging. The images in his head, the memories were suddenly fresher than reality, more visceral than the here and now.
Rufio heard the younger troll sigh above him (at least he was enjoying himself.) Then his descendant's weight disappeared, his bulge ripped out, hastily and clumsily, jerking harshly against his insides. It made him hiss and he curled into himself, away from the pain. A threatening rattle leaked its way out of his throat.
Rufio heard something hit the wall, had the Highblood come in here?
No, Tavros had thrown himself away, at the wall where he crouched and made gagging noises, punctuated by apologies, for what he did not know. He fought to calm himself down, to stop the rattling in his throat. His bulge curled in on itself on his lower stomach
"Tavros?
"I'm sorry, I'm just..." Tavros straightened up and covered his face with his hands, avoiding Rufio's eyes. "I'm a fuck-up, there's really just nothing else to say. I'm sorry, I messed everything up, just..." He looked around hopelessly, as if trying to find a place to hide, but there was nowhere.
Rufio straightened up, putting one hand on the wall to help him. His insides were sore, and burned now from the friction of Tavros' hasty retreat. The pain did not do anything to convince his bulge to go back in its sheath in the least bit.
He ignored it. "Tavros... you have not done anything wrong."
His bloodpusher was still pounding in his chest, and he could not quite stop the instinctive rattling, it was underlying his words, making them sound harsh. He couldn't help how tense he was.
He shifted to the edge of the bed, to go to Tavros, his legs shaking under him. His legs felt like jelly from the adrenaline that still coursed through his system. He made his way painfully to his descendant's side, each step resulting in a jolt of pain, making his gait a bit bowlegged.
He gently grabbed the others wrists and pulled them away from his face. "If there was something that I did..?"
"No!" Tavros pulled his hands away and held them to his chest. His head dropped down and his sight flickered across the floor, settling anywhere besides on Rufio.
"It was a bad idea, that's all. It was dumb, I'm dumb, sorry..." He let his hands fall and spoke, much more quietly. "I thought it might, um, make it better, I guess... I don't really, know why I thought it might help. It didn't."
He bit his lip, and brought his arms up to bring his descendant into a hug, resting his forehead on one of Tavros' horns.
"Shhh. Its okay Tavros. I-" He cut himself off, squeezing his eyes closed and snarling silently. He should have been able to relax. It was only Tavros, only them in this place. He hadn't hurt him, not intentionally, deliberately. He had been as slow and gentle as he could have possibly been.
He ignored the burning inside, crisscrossing like sparks in his nook. He should have been able to relax, to give Tavros what he needed.
He felt liquid running down his thighs, familiar and disgusting. He hoped it was just lubrication, and not blood. His bulge thankfully had started to retreat back somewhat, half sheathed.
Tavros pulled away and walked to the corner of the room furthest from the door.
"Forget it." He said. He sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them. He didn't want to talk, or be comforted, mostly he just wanted to disappear. He thought of Gamzee, and for a second, hated his friend for making him promise to keep living.
"Just, go back to sleep, Rufio. Please."
He let his descendant move away, going to sit by the wall, practically in the corner, like he was hiding. His legs quaked and his body burned. He fisted his hands, fingers digging into his thin palms.
His descendant was trying to hide away from what was bothering him. The urge to drag his descendant out verbally spiked. His descendant was so meek. So different than he had been at his age.
It was the 'please' though, that he listened to, against his better judgment, and turned to go to the ablutions chamber, leaving a trail of brown drips as he left without a word.
Amalthea gave a sigh of disappointment when his Little Fly walked away instead of talking with his clone. He loved watching them interact so much. This time, after Gamzee had left, thinking he was a sneaky thing, something new had happened, that had been especially nice. He wanted to see more. Ah well…
His claws tapped away on his keyboard, the nails glinting dully in the light from the screen. He pressed a button and the figures went backwards through their actions. He patiently waited, the light throwing shadows around the dark room. He stopped it when it came to where they had started to touch each other and let it play through.
He let out a rumbling purr at their actions. He was slouched in his seat, legs spread under his desk. His bulge leisurely pumped in and out of his nook, lashing at his insides and bending in ways that stretched him, adding just that pinch of pain that made everything feel so motherfucking GOOD.
His eyes were half mast as they watched the scene play out on his screen. They still hadn't noticed any of the hidden cameras that he had installed, even though he knew that Summoner, no... Rufio, (he hadn't even known his real name, not until his fly's descendant used it. What a riot.) had looked over his cage from top to bottom. It made him chuckle when he looked right into the lenses without even knowing.
He purred when Tavros let his bulge slip into his ancestor. The bluebloods on this ship had really done something miraculous with that. Their pailing wasn't as rough as he would have liked, but that was what some of the fun was, not directing it, watching them without them knowing. Seeing them raw. It was delicious.
He had never seen his Fly willingly submit to someone before, it was an interesting change. Never in his life had he ever done something willingly for him, it was always a fight to get what he wanted. That's what made it so much motherfucking FUN.
This though... this had only started about halfway through the first sweep. Tavros had begun turning their usual pale indulgences into these trysts. Shortly after he had broken him, stripped him of the last of his will to fight. It had been so motherfucking EASY to break the thing into such little pieces.
It didn't scream any longer, or cry, or even resist for a second. It was so motherfucking amusing, he could laugh until his gut burst. It made him such a riot to show off and pass around. Never fought back, hardly flinched. Who else had a pet so motherfucking well trained that they didn't need to tear out their fangs or file their claws? No one, that was motherfucking who.
He was just so different than his other pet. He thought he would have gotten bored of the little one when it finally broke and killed it, but it had only gotten more fun...
It burned his Little Fly to see his descendant submit. Oh, how it so obviously BURNED HIM. He wondered if Rufio saw himself every time Tavros diligently followed his every order. It never seemed to dull his fire, only making him snarl and spark more when his turn came around.
He rubbed his hand over his bulge, putting pressure on the base and purring rougher, watching Rufio's face as he fought not to fight and only to submit. It made his bulge pulse. Even when he wanted to relax, he never really could.
His legs tensed and shook as he came in himself, his genetic material filling up his seed sack. He groaned at the feeling deep inside, at that pleasurable stretch. He absently rubbed harder, urging more of his genetic material out. He liked feeling of that. It was pleasant. His own was never enough to create that noticeable of a bump in him, though. He would empty it out when he cleaned himself up.
Drops of indigo seeped around his retreating bulge and he scooped them up, using it to draw designs on his grey skin. Circles and his sign, the Flies'.
He looked back up at the recording. It had finished playing through and had gone back to the beginning of the hour, when Tavros was sitting, crouched by the doorway, talking to Gamzee.
Gamzee... he still saw potential there, so motherfucking much of it. It came out more and more as the sweeps passed, but every single motherfucking time the he went to visit the Fly's descendant, he would regress, just that little motherfucking bit. It angered him, and he was getting increasingly frustrated with his descendant.
He had the drive and the focus to back up his actions. He was almost unmatched in his fighting skills and he killed and participated in revelry and brutality as much as the rest of his brethren, the other trainees. After these visits though, he would hold back. His hits would not be as bone breaking, and he would show mercy to those he should be subjugating.
He needed to do something about that. The obvious answer, would be to just get rid of the problem. Get rid of Tavros. He didn't want to do that though, not if he could avoid it.
He could put a stop to the visits. Lock his descendant in his respite block until the morning carnival, when his day would begin. He would probably just tear his claws bloody trying to get out. It would be funny, but it would give his descendant more time to kill. He wasn't the sharpest thorn in the paw, but, given time and enough drive, he could potentially find a way to escape, and would be just that much more motherfucking annoying. If there was one thing Amalthea had learned in his long, long life, it was to never underestimate a highblood who has been backed into a corner. It wasn't their natural state to be caged like the rabble.
The only other option would be to do something to drive them away from each other. His gaze drifted to the screen again, pausing it on Tavros' face. He could do that, probably wouldn't be all that hard, either.
If it didn't work, well, his descendant was more important than his Fly's.
