BE WARNED. Smut, xeno, hermaphroditic trolls, inter-species relationships, pheromones, and oral sex lie ahead!
Enjoy, and read at your own risk!
You knew this little get together would be a bad idea ever since Roxy had walked in on you getting out of the shower earlier.
It was hard not to notice the sharp spike of a certain musk-like scent in the air around her as she tried not to stare. It was obvious she wanted you, but why she decided to pretend like she didn't was beyond your comprehension. Maybe it had something to do with people showing up soon and not having enough time? Probably.
You watch as Roxy sloshes her drink around while chatting animatedly with the female version of the John human and shift uncomfortably in your seat. You can still smell her arousal from across the room and it's driving you nuts. It's impossible to think about anything other than the idea of taking her right there on the goddamn coffee table, and the fact that she'd decided to wear that short little dress of hers today isn't helping either.
Trolls are supposed to be especially susceptible to their matesprit's pheromones, sure, you get that, but this is just ridiculous. How are you supposed to think? You're so worked up that even you're emitting your own pheromones in an attempt to let her know that you're more than available to handle the task at hand, but she doesn't notice.
Ugh. For a supposedly highly-intelligent species that relies on such a strange method of reproduction to keep from going extinct, you'd think that they'd have a better sense of smell than a barkbeast would, but that's clearly not the case when they're shrouding themselves in colognes and perfumes so strong it puts your thinkpan on the fritz. You shudder just thinking about it and thank the gods that Roxy knows how to be subtle enough so that you can actually appreciate whatever she's wearing and the way it mingles with her natural human scent, which you'd really grown to enjoy.
You sit up straight and roll your shoulders back, flaring out your fins to try and catch her attention since nothing else seems to be working.
Kankri once told you that humans don't pick up on troll pheromones, like they're on two different wavelengths or some shit, but what does he know? He's not the one dating a human, so probably not much. Besides, the three out of twenty-nine (human?) responses on Yahoo! Answers who claimed they did have to count for something.
Roxy glances quickly in your direction and for a second you think she might be finally picking up on your signals, until she turns back to her conversation with Jade without even so much as acknowledging you. Giving up hope, you make a small guttural noise of frustration and slump back down in your seat to suffer in silence.
"Could you be any more pathetic?"
You look over to see Kankri's shouty little dancestor—Karkat, was it?—scowling at you, his arms folded across his chest. "Learn to keep it in your fucking pants, why don't you."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
He nods down at your lap without breaking eye contact, and you furrow your brows and take a look for yourself to see what he's talking about. You can feel your face flush considerably when you see the small purple stain near the zipper.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh." He scoffs. "Have some fucking respect and common decency and get a hold of yourself. Nobody wants to see that shit."
"Trust me chief, I'd really like to do just that, but it's a lot easier said than done." You cross your legs at the ankles and fold your hands over the stain. "She just smells so good right now, you know?"
"What?"
"Roxy—she smells uh, real nice," you stammer and go to scratch the back of your head before remembering that your hands are currently in use. Karkat continues to stare at you like he's got no idea what you're talking about. You frown. "What?"
"You're seriously telling me that you're turned on because she smells nice, that's what. Are you fucking insane?"
"No no, I—wait, you really don't notice it?"
"Notice what?"
You're about to respond until Roxy stands up and shakes her empty martini glass, declaring, "I'm gonna go make myself another drink—anyone else want one?"
Her mother-daughter-whatever nods while Sollux, looking bored as usual, groans a muffled "No thanks" with his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. Dirk and Jane both refuse as well, their glasses still half full. Realizing that this is your chance, you drop the conversation with Karkat and follow her when she gets up to go to the kitchen, pretending not to notice when Dirk lifts a brow.
She's at the island counter trying to twist the cap off a liquor bottle when she notices you come in, and she flashes you one of signature cheeky grins. "Decide to finally join the party and drink with us, Crobro?"
You chuckle at her affectionate pet name for you—not exactly the term of endearment of your choice, but she's called you worse—and slide up behind her as she finishes pouring a couple shots worth of vodka into the cocktail shaker. When she makes a grab for the cranberry juice, you take the chance to wrap your arms around her waist and pull her back against your chest, resting your chin on her shoulder.
"If you're trying to be all cute and shit, asking me to make you a martini, the answer is hell no. You know how you drink and this shit's like water to you; have something heavier first to get a buzz going at least, then I'll make you all the martinis and fruity little drinks you want, babe. There's gin in the cabinet—oh."
She's got a really sensitive neck, which is what makes it so easy to shut her up with a couple of kisses and a few light nips at it. When she reflexively curls in on herself and giggles you switch sides and continue your assault, scraping your teeth lightly along her shoulder while letting out a low, sultry growl. One of your hands inch farther down her side and over a hip to fumble with the hem of her dress.
"Whoa, is it drone season for you guys or am I just missing something here?" she asks, peeking back at you with a playful smirk. You don't answer her, only nuzzle your nose to her skin and breathe her in. Up this close, her scent is so overwhelming that it's almost unbearable, with your bulge completely unsheathed and your nook starting to drip.
"I can smell you from across the room."
She frowns. "Oh god—do I smell rank or something?" She tries to wriggle out of your grasp but you tighten your grip with the arm you've got around her.
"No. You smell so good," you tell her and grind your swollen bulge into her from behind so that she can understand where you're coming from. She seems to get the hint because she presses herself into you more and leans her head back.
Your wandering hand dips between her thighs under her dress and you grin into her shoulder when you run a finger along her clothed slit, feeling how damp her panties are. "I knew it." You lick a stripe along her jawline while letting your fingertip rub small lazy circles around her stiff little bundle of nerves through the thin cotton. "You've been wanting this, haven't you?"
She rolls her hips back and hums. "Can you blame me when I've got the best looking alien fish guy on this side of the universe?" she asks with a lip-bitten smirk and rearranges the hand you've got around her waist to cup one of her breasts instead. Her words send a shiver down your spine and only serve to turn you on that much more, because it means that she's wet and ready just for you; that you're the one she wants to take and fill her, and it's just about all you can handle before you're pulling her panties to the side and whispering, "I have to taste you, Roxy."
Her breath hitches when you dip a finger into her, sliding in up to the middle knuckle almost effortlessly with how soaked she is, and she reaches back to grab you by the hair at the nape of your neck when you go to pull out. She gives you this look as if you'd just offended her in the worst way, but her eyes seem to soften when she watches in awe as you bring the finger coated in her juices to your lips and slowly suck it clean, putting on a bit of a show for her. You chuckle at the pure want in her eyes and go to turn her around for the main course, but when she starts rubbing her ass back against your clothed bulge and pawing needily at your arm, you can't help but let her drag your hand back down between her thighs and slide two fingers into her this time, giving her what she wants.
You smirk when she keens at the sudden intrusion and tosses her head back against your chest, digging her short nails into your wrists. It doesn't take long until she's urgently pushing her hips down onto your fingers in an attempt to get more friction, and you shove them in deeper and crook them until you can feel her fluids slowly dripping down to pool in your palm, and fuck, you desperately wish it was your mouth catching them instead.
"More."
"More? You want another?"
She nods and whines, "God, yes." Her own hand covers the one you've got pleasuring her, attempting to force another finger in. "Just one more. Please."
As hot as it sounds, you're a little reluctant to go through with her wishes. "I dunno, Rox. I don't wanna hurt you," you tell her while attempting to make due with the two fingers you've already got buried inside her. Roxy might not be made out of glass but you're a good deal bigger than she is, being a highblood male and all.
"C'mon Cro; your bulge is definitely thicker than three fingers and I take that just fine, don't I?"
You swallow hard at that reminder. "That's different."
You don't know why you even bother trying to reason with her when it's clear she's going to get what she wants one way or another, because when she twists around in your hold until she's able to run her tongue along the gills on your neck, that's all it takes for you to cave in and press another digit to her slick opening.
Three fingers is a bit of a stretch and you almost end up telling her no, but she's insistent and the little surprised gasp she makes followed by the sigh of relief when the third one finally manages to slip in with a bit of force is enough to convince you to keep going. She finally lets go of your hand to wrap her arms around your neck instead, relying on you to keep her steady while rocking herself down against your palm. You enjoy having her writhe in your arms like this, the feeling of her wet heat around your fingers as she moans in pleasure, until a sudden, more intense wave of her arousal hits your senses like a ton of bricks and you can't take it any longer—you're going to lose it.
She goes to say something when you pull out but you don't give her enough time to form an actual sentence, forcing your lips to hers the second she turns around to complain. She seems to forget almost instantly, returning the kiss with fervor. You wonder if she can taste the bare hint of herself that remains on your tongue at all. You hope so.
You walk her backwards until she's up against the fridge and block her in with both hands on either side of her head, keeping her attention on you. It isn't hard—she's got her hands gripping your shoulders like she's holding on for dear life and her pupils are blown so wide with arousal that you're pretty sure there's nothing else on her mind but your bulge, which she's got to be able to feel with how close the two of you are. Your thoughts are confirmed when she spreads her legs enough for you to get between them and press yourself even more into her warmth and, oh god, you can practically feel her wetness through your jeans, which are undoubtedly fucking ruined by now thanks to your own genetic material leaking from your bulge that's desperately trying to seek her out to no avail.
She runs her teeth along a fin when you're not paying attention and you buck your hips into hers a little too hard, making the cereal boxes on top of the fridge topple over to the ground. You know you should be more quiet so that nobody comes to see what's going on, but with the little mewl Roxy lets out and the way she's got her head tilted back she really seemed to enjoy it, so you give her more, rocking your hips together and licking at her collarbone. You hardly notice the low rumble that emits from deep within your chest when she runs her fingers down your sides over your clothed gills and she giggles. You pull yourself away to raise a brow at her and ask, "What?"
She tells you it's nothing, that she just thinks "It's so hot when you make those weird little alien noises of yours," so you grin and purr just for her while nosing at the crook of her neck, desperate to leave your own scent on her skin so everyone knows that, sorry, she's taken. Well, maybe not everyone since humans apparently have an absolute shit sense of smell, but at least other trolls will know to steer clear unless they're looking for trouble.
You really wish you could give her breasts some much needed attention but you can't keep her here in the kitchen forever. Dirk's bound to come looking for her any minute now—it doesn't take Roxy twenty minutes to make a martini—and the last thing you need is to get caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie jar, so with regret you skip over them as you sink to your knees between her legs and push her dress up.
You can feel how tense she is. She's nervous and you can't say that you really blame her; after all, you've got a mouth full of shark teeth and there's a reason seadwellers don't normally do this sort of thing. Coupled with the fact that you're not exactly the most careful guy, you wouldn't hold it against Roxy if she decided to call for a timeout, but you've never once fucked up doing this the few times she's let you. Still, it's a bit of a new addition to your bedroom repertoire, something you'd just recently managed to convince her into letting you do, so you know it's going to take some time before she's a hundred percent willing to just spread her legs for you without a worry in the world.
If you could somehow activate your joint-moirail instincts to calm her down you would, but you simply can't, not right now anyways—this is strictly redrom territory and there's no way you can just flip pale when you can't think of anything past how enticing she smells—so you pepper a few kisses on the insides of her thighs instead, hoping that it'll be enough to reassure her she's safe and that you'll be as gentle as possible before tugging her panties down, unwrapping her like she's some sort of gift that you can't wait to play with.
You start salivating the moment they come off and she's standing there completely exposed to you, the bottom of her dress bunched up in her fists so it's out of the way. You're so overwhelmed with this primal instinct to just shove your face between her thighs that you actually need to remind yourself to have some self-control. When you lean in to give an experimental lick at the little nub where her bulge should be her breath hitches and she jerks her hips away, but you don't miss how her toes curl against the floor or the little moan she lets out, so you take it as a good sign and continue.
The opening to her nook is slick and dripping with her own creamy slurry, and she gasps when you dip your tongue in to taste; a bit salty, not unlike the sea but still different and for some reason oddly addicting. Looking up you can see her watching you through half-lidded eyes until you dig your tongue in a little deeper, making a small bit of fresh material gush out. She squeezes her eyes shut and throws her head back against the fridge. You trill as you swallow what little she offers.
This continues for some time, running your tongue along her soft pink flesh and lapping up her juices like it's some sort of treat while Roxy whines and squirms above you in pleasure. Somewhere along the line she drops her dress to try and stifle her moans by biting down on her hand, the other one busy holding onto a horn to keep steady, so you push it up yourself and wrap your hands around her waist to keep it out of the way while simultaneously holding her in place.
When she's had enough, Roxy gives your horn a tug to tell you so and you let her pull you up until your tongue slides over that stiff little nub once more, making her squeak and bite her lip with an eager grin. You smirk up at her, holding her gaze as you bury your nose in the short, trimmed blonde fur above her nook, occasionally switching between flicking your tongue and gently sucking on the spot that drives her crazy until she's abandoned trying to stay quiet for wrapping both hands around your horns and desperately grinding herself against your mouth.
"Fuck, Cro, I'm so close. I'm—I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come so fucking hard, your tongue is so good oh my god, please don't stop."
You love it when she gets like this.
You stay where you are, not daring to make a move until her legs are trembling and she lets go of your horns to fold herself over you, fisting the back of your shirt instead as she lets out a choked sob. You try and help her ride out her orgasm until she has to literally push you away from over-stimulation. When she finally comes down from her high, you gently run your tongue along her folds once more to make sure not a single drop of her material goes to waste before you lick your lips and join her back up at her level.
"So how was that? Good, right?" you ask and pull her into your arms, stealing a quick kiss before she can even think to deny it. Your own neglected bulge is still writhing in your jeans, though not as bad as before; it's a lot easier to think now that you're not being suffocated by her arousal.
"Do I even need to say it?" Roxy laughs and thumbs off a bit of her material from your chin. You lick it clean and bite down on her thumb gently with an undoubtedly-devilish grin. "But what about you?"
"What do you—" She catches you off guard when her fingers slide into the top of your jeans. "Oh."
"You can't seriously tell me that's all you wanted," she says, and when she worms her fingers under the waistband of your boxers, the tip of your bulge reaches up to wrap itself around one. You groan. "See?"
What you want is to bend her over the island counter and bury yourself bulge deep inside of her, but you're running out of time and you know it probably wouldn't be a good idea to send her back out into living room with purple running down her thighs.
You (reluctantly) pull her hand out of your pants when she gets dangerous close to your nook and shake your head. She licks the small traces of violet from her fingers with a smirk and you instantly regret doing so.
"Don't worry about me, doll. I'll be fine."
"Cro—"
You shut her up with a kiss and smooth the bottom of her dress out before nudging her towards the living room. "We can pick up where we left off later, eh? Now, get back in there before people start getting ideas."
It takes a bit more convincing, but after a couple more kisses (and perhaps a little too much touching than necessary) she whispers a few choice words against your neck before turning with a flourish and leaving to join the others in the living room, not once looking back.
You know you really should follow her, but it's not like you'll be missed or anything… right?
With that decided, you pocket her forgotten panties from the floor before retiring to the bedroom for some much needed stress relief.