The vents are cool, comfortable, and he's lean enough that he can wriggle around like a grub. They've become a refuge for him these days, away from all the loud noises and loud people on the meteor. He likes to watch sometimes though. Karkat's little angry tantrums, Dave when he's quiet and rapping and vulnerable. Kanaya when she's with Rose, all blushing and sweet with all that blood so close to the surface.
Yes, he likes to watch. But none so much as her.
The first time he saw her unclothed was during his little…fit. When she changed into her uniform in front of him, not knowing he was there. Watching her. Seeing the flex of her hands, the shift of her tiny little bones under her skin. It aroused him. And he knew this could not, would not, be a one time thing.
He's fairly sure it's one of the reasons he didn't kill her.
So now, in the vent above her respiteblock, he watches.
She walks in, a little sashay to her hips that wasn't there a year ago. There's a calmness to her now, a stillness. He doesn't know if her likes it or not. He does like the curves that are starting to show through her clothes though; the swell of her breasts, the soft curve of her hips. She's taller than she was too, though still much shorter than him.
She lets her hands fall to the hem of her shirt, lifts it a little. His breath hitches at the glimpse of her skin, her bony hips, her navel. She pulls the shirt over her head in one smooth motion, her shoulderblades moving sinuously. He watches her spine move under her skin. She doesn't wear a bra, they're not a thing in Alternian culture. She is exposed and small and fragile, and her nipples are a deep teal. His hand drops to his bulge, and he cups himself through the fabric of his pants. He hisses, and she half turns towards the vent. Then she shakes her head, and turns back.
She takes off pants next, unbuttoning them and tugging them down with little grace. She kicks them off, not caring where they go. Her underwear is red, her favourite colour, the one she most likes to lick. He thinks for a moment - is she that flexible? - then shakes his head, reaching inside his pants. He slides a thumb down the length of his bulge, feels it wrap around his hand. He trembles, minutely, because he's so damn sensitive. And it's all her fault.
Her legs are longer than he expected, and she takes her time shimmying out of her underwear. He can't really take the slowness of it, the swing of her hips and the tantalising sheen of sweat at the small of her back. She shivers with the coolness of her room once they're off, a full body shudder that causes him to react in the same way. He is close now, unbearably so. His bulge feels so damn good in his hands, reacting to the way he's moving, reacting to the way she's moving. He closes his eyes involuntarily, doesn't hear her walk over.
She pulls out of the vent and grins down at him, maniacal as ever.
"Can I help you with something, you disgusting creature?" she spits, and oh you have never hated quite like this before.