A/n: Anyway, this is my first time attempting to write a trans character (and Dave), so I would really appreciate feedback!

Written for Shareq/Charlesdutton on tumblr

You're sitting next to Dave on the couch, kicking his ass at Super Smash Brothers when he asks, "Hey, you wanna have sex?"

For a moment you actually turn away from the screen to look at him. He's trying to play it cool, but normally he likes to use some obtuse anti-erotic metaphor when he talks about your coupling. Referring to it as 'fucking' is his equivalent of softly whispering 'I want you,' so "Having sex" must be Strider-ese "making love on a bed of rose petals atop fine silk sheets with the room filled by the soft light of the candles that sit upon every surface of the room while soft violin music plays in the background." You don't have rose petals, your sheets are cotton and overdue to be washed, and if you tried to put candles on the piles of shit in your shared respiteblock you'd burn down the hive.

You'll make do.

"Okay," you say because your throat is suddenly dry and you're finding it hard to access your extended vocabulary because every drop of blood in your body is slipping southward.

You convince yourself that's why you lose.

The moment it's over and Kirby is doing that annoying fucking dance in front of a very depressed looking Pikachu, you grab the remote and turn the TV off. Dave sets his controller to the side and climbs into your lap. The half-second you're taken aback by the highly unstriderlike move is all it takes for him to shove his tongue down your throat. Now that's more like him. With the knowledge of the ravishing you're about to receive you melt under his touches. It's nice to have all of him in your grasp. He's shorter and softer than you, and even though he has a not-so-secret complex about his appearance you like it. Oh fuck do you like it. It feels so good sinking into his form. If only there was a way to say that in his language. The closest you can get is giving him an occasional swat on the rump and saying that he looks "damn fuckable," but it just feels like harassment. He's said he likes it that way. You just hope he understands what your quick words and harsh snaps really mean when you squabble.

He pulls away and slips off of your lap. With his practiced (you've seen him at it) swagger, he walks away. He's too casual to be relaxed, but you shove the thought away and follow like a barkbeast. You grab one of his hands, tangling your fingers together. He lets out one of his little "I'm-humoring-my-sappy-matesprit" laughs but squeezes back.

The respiteblock isn't far. Normally he likes to shove you against the door and put his hip against your groin, but instead he goes to the bed and tugs the covers off.

"Are you okay?" you can't help but ask.

"Peachy." Oh wow it must be bad.

He takes off his shades and places them on the bedside table. His expression is measured and precise as always, without the slightest squint even though without his sunglasses he can't see clearly more than a few inches in front of his face and even relatively low lights are too bright for life. He turns his bright red eyes on you.

You come closer, straight on so you don't startle him (that happened once and you got a knee between the legs. Needless to say, no one got laid that night). You only stop when you're sure he can at least tell your body from the gray wall behind you.

"Dave…"

His answer is to pull his shirt off and kick his pants to the floor. "Come on, Karkat, let's go. Unless you'd rather I take care of myself."

With a sigh you guide him back onto the bed. He doesn't like it when you let go, so you pet his side with one hand as you take your pants off with the other. You straddle him before you remove your shirt. It's not pinning, not holding, just letting him know that you're there and you're not planning to leave.

You run your hands down his sides again, putting on a little more pressure and going all the way down to his hips. He shudders under your touch, but you're not sure where he wants you to go, what he wants you to do. It's becoming increasingly obvious from the lack of snide remarks and casual attacks that he's feeling insecure. You want to help, but without knowing what he's insecure about he's difficult to please.

To buy yourself a bit of time, you tug his boxers down and off. You shimmy down to get a closer look. He's ready, but you know he can will himself into sex in about .2 seconds. Then you glance back up. He stares straight at the ceiling because he wouldn't be able to see you anyway. You smile softly and kiss the inside of his thigh, silky smooth and soft beneath a sparse covering of hair. You slowly move closer and closer until his hand finds your hair and he tugs you up.

"Changed my mind," he says. "I want you up here."

With a nod you start crawling. When you're finally level he puts your hands on the bottom of his binder.

"Just you and me today, Karkat. None of this bullshit."

For a moment you're glad of your matesprit's nearsightedness. He can't see the concern and confusion on your face, though he likely knows it's there.

"Alright," you say slowly.

He wouldn't call it bullshit on a normal day, so why aren't you questioning it more? His rumblespheres pop free and for a moment you feel guilty. How much of your compliance is just for those? Because, fuck, they're lovely. It's not fair for a man to have such great rumblespheres. Your own are so tiny you don't need anything to support them, but Dave? He looks like a Peixes.

You wish his face had any clues, but it doesn't. The only option is to forge ahead and hope you don't step on a fucking landmine. You give one nipple a little kiss but there's still no response. With a grope, though, his lip gives the tiniest twitch upward. Anyone but you would have missed it.

Maybe you're just being paranoid. Maybe your matesprit is just treating you for once. No one ever said he can't be generous. So you bite and feel, lick and suckle at nipples and areolae and plain skin alike. He's starting to act more like himself now. There's an honest smile in his eyes, even if it hasn't reached his mouth yet. You'll get him there.

The nice thing about it being the two of you is you can take it slow. Dave's explained it to you a few times that, in spite of his "Not-so-girly parts" being a "cultural snafu of the highest degree" on earth, they let him enjoy more of a slow burn than cis guys. You're pretty sure you don't understand all of the connotations beyond "Dave got the better half," but you already knew that because a nook is a nook and nooks are wonderful to own.

Every now and then you ghost your fingers across his fleshy sheath, occasionally slipping past it to fondle the tiny nub the way he likes. He begins to touch back, lightly teasing your sheath. It's not enough to make you open and he knows it. You decide that he's probably alright now and just let yourself play. His body's a paradise and tonight only it looks like it's no-holds-barred, all doors open, all you can eat buffet of Dave Strider.

Oh, wait, that gives you an idea.

"How do you want it?" You whisper in his ear.

"You sound like you have a plan."

"I think-" fuck, why do you still feel so awkward asking for this kind of thing? "I think you should sit on my face."

"Mmm… nah."

"'Nah'?"

"I like it, but I've got a better idea. Just you and me, basic, old-school like the nuns would have wanted."

"Okay," you reply, reaching over and fumble with the drawer on his nightstand.

"What're you doing?" he asks.

"Getting your bulge?"

He frowns, "Karkat, I told you, no bullshit."

You don't remove your hand from the drawer. "Why are you saying your bulge is bullshit?"

He looks away and shrugs. "It's not part of the natural Strider set."

"Dave, let's just take a moment to consider how much what's 'natural' affects our lives and remember that the answer is 'not at all.'"

"Right."

"I mean, I won't force you if you don't want to, but normally you're reaching for your harness before our pants are on the ground."

"I just… I need to try something new, okay? If you get me off I promise I'll eat you out instead, okay?"

There's fire and life back in his eyes, and you can't say no to that. "So what do you want? I didn't get what you meant before."

"I want you to fuck me. Just full out tentadick in mangina action."

"Alright," you reply, leaving a gentle kiss on his lips.

You reach down and open yourself up. Your bulge uncurls and starts trailing red all over Dave's thighs. He spreads his legs a little wider so you can settle in better. You give your bulge a little nudge forward. It gets lost for a moment, wriggling around inside Dave's sheath, until it finds the lip of his actual nook and slides right in. Both of you moan. Dave's nook is just so compliant compared to a normal one, as soft as the rest of his body and every bit as enticing. It somehow manages to suck you in without undulating folds or peristaltic motions. Whenever you're inside you never want to leave.

"God, I will never get used to the wiggling." He's gasping heavily and shaking, though, so you're pretty sure it's a good thing or one last attempt to save his dignity.

You're not letting him have that. "You love it."

"Nah."

Your two helper tendrils detach and taunt his clit. You bunker down, pressing your body flat against his. You won't give him anything else, not until he breaks. Your bulge is being unruly. You can't keep it from twitching slightly, but you've gotten enough practice that you can stop it from coiling and undulating, which is what Dave really wants. Even now his heart is hammering in his chest hard enough for you to feel it clearly even with his rumblespheres in the way (not that you don't love the way they're pressed against your chest, lining up perfectly with your pectorals when you're lying like this). He fists the blanket and you're pretty sure his toes are curling as you continue.

"Should I just hold still then?" you purr.

"I'm gonna kill you," he growls

"Quadrant fucker," you accuse, though there's not an ounce of bite in it.

He's so hot, so tight after all this time and it's getting hard to control the twitches, especially since his nook is twitching back. You lower your head and bite softly on his shoulder. There's not blood, even with your sharp teeth. Your helper tendrils pick up the pace and Dave's cries get louder and higher. It's beautiful. He's beautiful.

Your own nook has never felt so empty. It's all you can do not to reach over and snag the bulge from the drawer. Just breathe. In, out. Hold still, Karkat, still. Then he comes and, oh fuck it, it was a dumb game anyway and he loves it when you do this.

You finally let go and start fucking him. Your rhythm complements the spasms of Dave's nook. He lets out one short scream, loud and high before clapping a hand over his mouth. For a moment you think back to the night you exhausted him to the point where he didn't even care (how many times had you managed to make him come? Eight? Nine? You have to do it again). Fuck that was amazing. You love it when he lets himself be a soprano. His natural voice is so lovely, but he says he feels dumb when he sings, so you don't push it.

Dave's first orgasm is dying down. There's not an ounce of tension anywhere in his body. Even his breaths are slow. And the looseness manages to be every bit as good as the twitches. He's still hot, but slicker now. Instead of making your bulge conform to his shape he makes way for you. You have to pull away to breathe. It's hot. Sweat runs down your cheek.

Suddenly he starts laughing. It causes a different sort of contractions in his nook that your bulge happily moves with. Dave cranes his neck and licks the drop of sweat away. Then he's laughing again. You're not sure why, but you start laughing too. Your bulge, however, has about zero fucks to give and keeps moving inside of your lover.

"Oh fuck," Dave says, "I love you Karkat."

That's enough to make you pause. He's never said it out loud before. For a moment, his eyes go wide and he realizes it too.

When he speaks again his voice is soft and unguarded. "Hey, you wanted to eat me out, right?"

You swallow and nod.

"Alright. Sign on the dotted bed. Let's go."

"Oh fuck yes," you breathe as you scuttle to turn around.

It doesn't occur to you until you hear the slide of wood on wood that he was back to using really stupid names for things (the first time he'd said that he had to fucking explain that it was because your sign is a sideways sixty-nine. Because the first thing that pops into the average troll's mind when seeing an instrument of torture is 'it looks like a sex position.' Thanks, Dave). You smile into his thigh and start nibbling again. The scent of his nook, salty and acidic, is drawing you in. Then you hear the soft buzz of his bulge starting up. Your nook and bulge twitch in unison. You don't care about which one gets it as long as something-

"Yep, here you go squiddle-buddy."

Your toes curl as your bulge wraps around the toy. It shakes your body to the core, and you can feel the reverberations in your painfully empty nook. Then Dave grabs your hips and pulls you down onto his face. And that's- that's just-

Taking a deep breath, you dive into his nook because you're going to be useless soon. After you make Dave come the first time it just gets easier and easier to wring orgasms from him, and you wag your goddamn tongue often enough that you're dexterous as fuck. It's another race, another battle of wills, but you know full well it's a game. If he wins he'll gloat, if you win you'll gloat, but tomorrow when you wake up it's all off the table. Still, you already lost that video game, you already lost getting him to admit his appreciation for all aspects of bulge, you're winning this.

Thankfully you do, because otherwise you'd feel like such a little bitch after that sort of mental declaration. You're so focused on trying not to come all over Dave that it takes one of his shouts of surprise for you to notice he's shaking and shuddering again.

You turn and smile at him, getting right in his face and then licking your lips clean.

"Oh my god," he says. "Karkat, you are the sexiest person I've ever stuck my dick in."

"I'm the only person you've ever stuck your dick in," you say.

"Yeah, well, com'ere."

He grabs your bucket and runs a hand down your spine, ending it by plunging three fingers into your nook. With a shudder, you spill into the pail. He's gentle with you as he coaxes wave after wave of genetic material out. When you're finally empty, he gets up and covers you with the blanket before taking the bucket to the absolution block. You just lie back because you're trembling and none of your limbs are listening to you.

There's the sound of running water for a few seconds, and then Dave's back by your side with a wet cloth in his hand. He pulls the covers back and gently wipes the red from your legs and sheath.

He drops the cloth on the plate you leave there for exactly that purpose and climbs in next to you. You manage to roll towards him and he slips into the little spoon position, bringing your hands around to his front. You bury your nose in his hair, slightly damp from perspiration.

"Thanks," he says after a few moments.

"For what?"

"That." He takes a deep breath and you kill whatever stupid thing you were about to say. This might be your only chance to hear what the fuck he was thinking all night. "Karkat?"

"Yes?"

"I'm about to tell you something important, so don't laugh or look at me disapprovingly or any of that shit because I don't think I could deal with it."

You squeeze one of his hands. "I promise I won't."

"Good." There's a pause. Then he finally says, "So I was hanging out with Rose and Kanaya today and they said we've got this colony thing pretty stable. And Kanaya says she thinks she'll be ready soon to try a first batch of grubs."

Your eyes widen. You'd just never imagined that she'd actually- that maybe your people could- But Dave's still talking.

"And well, we humans made a pact that we wouldn't have any kids until you guys could. But that means that pretty soon that's probably gonna be a thing. And as awesome as it would to take part in a giant orgy because we all somehow managed to start dating people we're genetically incompatable with, I'm… I guess I'm just confused. Because even though we probably want all the genetic variation in our inbred little gene pool we can get, I'm a guy and I just have no fucking idea what I should do."

"Is that why you wanted this?"

"Well, I mean, I put 'get laid' on my to-do list when I wake up every morning, but… yeah. It was. I wanted to know if I would feel any different if I tried acting like a girl, and if I did if it would change anything."

"And do you feel different?"

"No. That's why I started laughing. It wasn't really helping so I figured I'd just enjoy myself, you know?"

"Right."

Has the clock on the wall always been so loud? He's waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to do something. You're going to fuck it up. You know it. But you have to do something.

"Dave, I don't know how much I can help. You're a grown-ass man and you can make your own choices. Just know that whatever you choose I won't think any less of you."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah. When the time comes, and if Kanaya and Terezi want to keep my mutant blood in the gene pool, I'll probably have a clutch of eggs or two, so if you do it won't be weird. And I'm never going to internalize all the details of your human gender binary, but I get that it's different and that it's kind of a thing that human females usually bear young, so if you don't it won't be weird either. But even if it was weird, I don't think it would matter." You brush a lock of hair out of his face. "What's the point of ruling a new universe if you don't get to make the rules?"

He smiles and wraps his arms around you a little more tightly.

"Thanks," he says. "That's exactly what I needed to hear."

You see the tears, but all of his other signals are pure and unadulterated happiness. You think that you've done okay.