Disclaimer: Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie.
Wishful Thinking
It was another dark night on the obsidian planet of Derse. It was a moonless night, which made everything even darker than usual. But this did not stop a large dark figure from carefully creeping through the hallways of the royal palace.
He tried his best to tread only on the rugs so his feet wouldn't click loudly against the crumbling stone floor, but his weight ensured they made noise anyway. He felt incredibly silly for sneaking around like this, but he didn't want anyone to know where he was going.
The teleporter to his desired destination was down, and it was safe to say that it wouldn't be fixed for months. He'd have to take the stairs. Fortunately, the stairwell was closer. Unfortunately, like everything else in the palace, the stairwell was also falling apart. He had to tread carefully, not so much to keep from making too much noise, but to avoid stepping on a weak spot and taking a tumble down the stairs. He had received plenty of warnings about these stairs.
He cautiously took a few flights down to the appointed place. Before he stepped in, he peeked through the window in the door. It didn't look like anyone was in there. Good.
He quietly opened the door and slipped into the pantry. There, he quietly sneaked up to the kitchen doorway. It didn't look like anybody was in there either. But looks could be deceiving.
He lunged out from behind the doorway and dove behind a counter. Or at least that's what he wanted to do, but he wound up crashing into the side of the counter instead. He wasn't sure if the massive dent in the steel sliding doors was due to him, or if it was already there.
Well, if someone was in here, they would have heard him by now and came running. But seeing as how nobody was coming, it seemed the coast was clear. He just hoped his mishap didn't alert any guards. Then again, even if they had heard him, those lazy asses probably wouldn't bother to come looking.
He picked himself up and made his way over to the cabinets and drawers containing the various tableware and eating utensils. He started with the plates first. He grabbed one out of the cabinet and turned on a light above the nearest sink. He held the plate up to the light and gave it a thorough inspection. Sure enough, he could see spots all over it. He grumbled. Didn't anybody know how to wash a dish around here?!
He filled the sink with water and got out the detergent and some steel wool pads. He slipped on a pair of the biggest rubber gloves he could find (didn't want his shell to get rusty patches on it, after all) and began washing the plates.
Whoever they replaced him with after his "promotion" really didn't know what they were doing - if they had the funds to replace him at all. Well, it didn't matter. If he had to do his old job too, he'd do it. It'd show that somebody gave a shit in this pl-
His thoughts were interrupted when the lights suddenly came on. He dropped his plate in the sink as he covered his stinging eyes with his wet gloves. A voice dripping with sarcasm said, "Your Majesty?"
Aw shit...he knew exactly who was there.
"Godammit Jack, don't sneak up on a guy like that!" the Black King snapped at the archagent, uncovering his face but still squinting. "How'd you know I was down here, anyway?"
"When are you not trying to sneak down here?" Jack sneered at him. "Anyway, the Queen wants you."
"S-she does?" the dishwashing monarch stammered. He had to regain his composure before continuing. "What for?" "How the fuck should I know?" Jack replied, turning to leave. "She just said to get your huge ass up there on the double."
He walked away, grumbling to himself. Probably calling the King a "dirty peasant" or something under his breath again. Said monarch rolled his eyes. Jack made no secret that he had originally wanted to be king. Well, if he wanted the job so badly, he could have it! That's what the King would say if it was possible. Sadly, the Horrorterrors had bestowed the Black Scepter upon him and not Jack. Why, he'd never know, but if he wanted to hazard a guess, he'd say it was because the scary mollusks in the sky had some sick senses of humor.
And of course, the King's close relationship to the Queen probably didn't make him any more endearing to Jack, either. Not that Jack had anything to worry about, really.
Whatever, that wasn't important right now. The important thing was that his Queen wanted to see him. He wondered what she wanted.
...And at such a late hour?
No, no, that would be silly. They were just friends after all. Well, she still thought of him as just a friend, anyway. Nevertheless, he felt stupid for even entertaining that thought.
He quickly looked over his plate to make sure that it hadn't gotten damaged when he dropped it. Then he dried it off, put it away, and cleaned up a bit before heading over to the teleporter that led to the upper floors. Thankfully, this one was working.
After going through a few security systems, he was taken up to the floor where the royal chambers were. His chamber was on his right, hers was on his left. He glanced over at his own door and mused about how his chamber's closet was bigger than his old apartment back when he was still a palace servant. But now he was just stalling.
He slowly approached the door to the Black Queen's chamber, trying to fighting off dizziness. As he stood in front of it, he stopped to adjust his crown and straighten out his black robes. He wasn't sure why he was bothering; it's not like she'd notice him. But might as well look nice for her anyway, right?
He started to knock on her door, but was immediately stopped by a dizzy spell. He had to lean on a wall to stop himself from falling down. This was incredibly silly; him and the Queen were best friends for decades, so why was he getting so nervous? Oh right, the fact that he had been secretly crushing on her since they were in their adolescent nymph stages. And that she had just called for him alone in the middle of the night for "mysterious purposes."
He waited for a moment to let the dizziness pass. He idly wondered what it would be like to be a king in the heroes' world. From what he had been told, their kings and queens were always married to each other. Here in the Incipisphere, they weren't; in fact, it was discouraged. "Nepotism" or "fraternizing on the job" or something. Also something about not wanting the military to influence a queen's decisions, since the king was the head of all the armies and all. There was even a big stink when Prospit's queen crowned her husband. Personally, he wouldn't mind being married to his queen...in fact, he'd love it. But she probably wouldn't go for him. In fact, he was pretty sure she had feelings for Jack.
He was stalling again. Not good.
While still leaning against the wall, he reached over and rapped his big metallic knuckles on the worn wooden doors.
"Who is it?!" the Queen's voice barked. She sounded impatient. Despite her irritation, her voice made him feel lightheaded again.
"Uh...just me, my Queen," the King said, trying not to sound nervous or nauseated.
"Oh!" her voice immediately softened. "Come right in, my King."
Was it just him, or did she sound unusually happy to see him? It sounded like there was a purr to her voice. No, no, that was just his imagination again.
He grabbed the door by its tarnished handle and slowly opened it. He kept repeating to himself to just stay cal-
The King immediately shut his eyes, turned his head away, and closed the door behind him while apologizing profusely. The Queen was in there stark naked. If his face wasn't covered in shiny pitch black plates, he'd be blushing.
"I'll...I'll come back in when you're finished dressing!" he sputtered while mentally kicking himself for his faux pas.
He heard the Queen chuckle. "Oh, c'mon. Don't be so shy. We've known each other for how long?" she said, her voice more alluring than usual. "You've seen me naked before."
Yes, but we were just larvae crawling around in a sandbox, digging burrows, the King thought. Now we're adults, and you're so smokin' hot and powerful, and I'm just some dumb fuckass who was stupid enough to fall for you.
Still, she wanted him back in there...for some reason. Whatever it was, it'd be rude to keep her waiting, wouldn't it?
He gripped the door handle again, which was a lot more difficult this time, as his hand was shaking like a leaf. He entered the room, desperately telling himself not to do anything stupid like fall down, throw up, or faint.
And when he finally beheld her, he nearly did all those things at once. She was sitting on a stool between her bed and her dresser...completely naked. All those gorgeous black plates exposed for him to see. By the gods, she was so beautiful. He felt like he could just melt in her presence.
The lights in the room were dimmed for some reason, and the air suspiciously smelled like lavender. That was just a coincidence, right? He hadn't been in her chamber in a long time, so maybe this was normal? Yeah, probably.
"There you are," she said, her voice oddly sweet and her reflective eyes glowing in the gloom. "I've been expecting you."
"W-what did you need me for, my Queen?" he tried his best to keep his voice level, but he still stammered. He was starting to feel lightheaded. Why, oh, why did he have to be such a nervous wreck around her? It wasn't like she was going to bite him, she was just sitting there...being naked...and gorgeous...
"Oh, I was just polishing my carapace," the Queen said, "but there's places on my back I can't reach. So I'll need you to get them for me." She held out a can of polish to him.
"M-me?!" he cried involuntarily.
She smiled coyly at him. "Yes, you," she chuckled. "You're the one of the only ones I can trust not to stab me while doing it. Besides, I've seen how well you used to wash the dishes. A carapace can't be too different, can it?" He swore her smile turned sneaky. "Unless...you can't do it, for some reason?"
"Uh...n-no, I can do it!" he practically yelped. "Here, I'll take that."
She handed him the polish along with a rag, a toothy grin on her face. "Very good," she said.
He sat on the bed, her back turned to him. She just wanted him to polish her back plates. Shouldn't be too hard, right? He opened the can, put some of the waxy substance on his thick fingers, and began to reach over.
He almost lost his balance. Even just her back made him want to swoon. All those lovely, jet black interlocking plates...they didn't need to be polished to be beautiful. He felt like it would be a sin to touch them with his dirty, pseudo-royal hands. But orders were orders.
He slowly began to rub the wax over her shoulder plates. Simply touching her made him shiver. He could feel the immense power hidden within her slender body. Queens were naturally very strong, and the Black Queen even moreso, as she had gone through extensive combat training since she was old enough to crawl upon land. The previous queen had wanted to make sure she could fight off any assassination attempt, or whether it be from angry nobles, Prospitians, or legendary heroes. She was probably the strongest person on Derse, perhaps the entire Incipisphere. He saw her demolish an abandoned building with just her fists so they didn't have to hire a wrecking crew. She could probably lift him over her head, one-handed. Her strength made him tremble, and he fought to keep his hands steady.
He spread the wax down her back, enjoying the feel of her warm, smooth plates against his bulky fingers, the combination of metals and organic compounds that formed a sort of natural steel. Her shell was such a breathtaking shade of ebony. It was darker than the night sky outside. It was if someone had taken a piece of Void itself and forged it into the form of a woman, his stygian goddess of temptation. Maybe he could see the Horrorterrors swimming around in her armor if he looked close enough.
She suddenly leaned back. "Mmmm...you have such strong hands," she cooed.
His face felt hot and his heart pounded in his eardrums. She was enjoying his touch? This was a good thing, of course...a great thing. He fumbled for a response.
"Um...thank you?" he said. He wanted to slap himself for sounding so pathetic.
"You'd make a great masseuse," the Queen said, looking over her shoulder at him. "Maybe I should have you give me personal back massages from now on!"
"Uh..."
Say something smooth, dummy!
"...If it pleases you, my Queen."
Okay, that wasn't too bad. You didn't stutter, but you still hesitated...
She leaned back some more. "Mmm...it does please me," she sighed.
"Well, I always aim to please you, milady." That's what the King would have said if his entire mouth hadn't gone completely dry and numb at that point.
He continued on, rubbing the wax down her lower back while being careful not to get too near her rump. He didn't want to ruin this moment by making it look like he was getting fresh with her. He tried not to stare at its luscious black roundness either, as difficult as that was. Oh sure, he had seen larger rears, but they didn't weren't as muscular or well-toned as hers.
He took the rag and carefully rubbed the waxy areas starting with her shoulders again. He toweled her down with the same care as he would a dish: he made sure any and all spots were gone and he could see his reflection in it. Only the best treatment for his Queen. He wanted to say that too, but his mouth was still not functioning.
At that moment, he thought he heard a crack noise. He stopped and looked around, particularly at the door to make sure no one was trying to sneak in.
"What's wrong?" the Queen asked, noticing his sudden stop.
"Did...you hear something?" he asked, looking at the window this time. Nobody out there, either.
"No, can't say I did," she replied, although he swore there was something in her voice that sounded like she knew more than she was letting on.
"Guess it was just my imagination then," he said. If someone was trying to peek or slip in, he would have seen the door move. But the door remained where it was. He just decided to shrug it off.
He returned to polishing her dorsal plates - or at least he started to. Something other than a strange noise made him hesitate this time. Did her plates suddenly have wider gaps between them? And her upper arms...they didn't look quite right either. Her left arm looked broader than her right. Was he just imagining things again? Maybe his nervousness was making him hallucinate.
He tried to shut everything out as he slowly and methodically toweled her down her back. As he reached the lower area of back, she suddenly moaned.
"Oh, lower," she purred, almost begging. "Lower, please...!"
Any lower and he'd be touching her butt! Damn, that sounded childish. But even so, that's what was happening here! His hands trembled and his head swam. But wait, what if she wanted him to touch her there? What if...
...Oh gods, what if she wanted to mate with him?
He kept wondering about that ever since he was called here...alone and in the middle of the night. He kept telling himself it was impossible; she didn't harbor those kinds of feelings for him. But here he was, alone in the room with her. And she was naked. With the lights romantically dimmed and the faint smell of incense in the air. And he was giving her what was pretty much a sensual backrub and she was moaning erotically and telling him to rub her rear end.
But why? It wasn't because Jack pissed her off and now she wanted to make him jealous, would it? No, if she wanted to do that, she'd just make out with him in front of the archagent. Maybe she just wanted a random one night stand? If she did, she was putting an awful lot of effort into it. So then...maybe it was because she really did have some kind of feelings for him?
It was like a dream come true! But...could he do it? Of course, he knew how to mate. Any Carapacian with two brain cells knew how to crawl into a body of water and fuck. But he had never mated before. If they did get in the tub together, he would want to make her feel real good, feel special. But he knew nothing about the finer points of lovemaking. On top of that, she had guys throwing themselves at her feet; she probably had dozens of suitors already. He'd disappoint her, he knew it. She was way too much woman for him to handle.
He tried to finish up polishing her back, but he found it much more difficult now. His imagination was tormenting him, and it was making his hands shake. He couldn't stop thinking about the two of them in the tub together...her lips against his...their bodies pressing against each other...her ample bosom against his thick chestplates...and his...inside her...uh...uhh...
Oh gods, he didn't deserve her. Jack was right, he really was just a "dirty peasant" - a dirty peasant that some superpowered squids gave a stupid magic wand, kingly armor, and magical steroid injections to. He shouldn't even be allowed to be touching her right now let alone sleep with her. His commoner filth might accidentally tarnish that supernatural beauty of hers.
Pull yourself together! he told himself. He still had a job to do, and he needed to focus. He shouldn't be so cocksure that the Queen wouldn't notice him fooling around back there. He needed to stop getting off - going off in his thoughts and finish going down on - uh, going down her back. He needed to be a hard man and do it right. FUCK - I mean, dammit!
"For a guy with such big hands, you've really got a gentle touch," the Queen sighed suddenly, her voice smoother than silk. "Makes me wonder how that touch of yours would feel on other parts of the body..."
He involuntarily gasped.
"...I could use a foot massage," she finished, smiling slyly at him.
The King's hands shook so hard at that moment that he accidentally dropped his rag. He bent down to pick it up and almost fell flat on his face. The room had started wildly spinning around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and placed his face in his palms, waiting for the vertigo to pass.
Way to go, you idiot, he chided himself. Just take a few deep breaths it'll go away. He dutifully tried to breathe deeply. That's it...that's it...no, no, NOT OUT YOUR MOUTH!
But it was too late. He was already hyperventilating. No matter how hard he tried to stop himself, his gasps only got harder.
The Queen turned to look at him again. "My King?" he heard her ask. "My King, what's wrong? You don't look so good."
"I'm...okay...really...," he said weakly between gasps.
"You don't look okay," she argued. "You poor dear, you look like you're about to pass out! Here, let me help."
She stood up, and oh gods, he could now see her glorious naked front, her lovely pair of round, dark chestplates, her exquisitely strong thighs. There was still something strange going on with her left arm, however; it looked like it had somehow become more muscular than her right.
He quickly forgot about it as she leaned over him and - oh gods - she touched his chest and eased him onto his back on the bed. His crown fell off and landed next to his head. He wanted to melt - her touch was so wonderful.
Then - oh, oh by the Horrorterrors - she lay on top of him, her face nearly touching his. She grinned a wide, toothy "I've got you now" grin. He wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around her and kiss those luscious obsidian lips. But alas, he could not; he was quivering so terribly, he was paralyzed. He felt so pathetic.
"You poor, poor thing," she said, her voice honeyed as she gently stroked his round cheek with her long, bony hand. "You look so sick. What you need is some air and a nice drink of...water!"
Water? Uhh...dumb question, but did she mean in a glass, or...?
She sat up for a moment to open her window a bit. Then she leaned back over him and grasped the black clasp on his cape.
"Here, let's get these things off you," she said as she removed the cape.
Her nimble fingers then went to work on the buttons down his robe - oh holy shit, SHE WAS TAKING HIS CLOTHES OFF! His gasps became so hard, they were painful. She was now pulling open his robe off with one hand and...wait. Where did her other hand go?
He felt something gently stroking his stomach - oh there it was. His eyes started to roll up, and the room started to blur. Keep doing that and never stop. But wait...he felt her hand slowly trail down his lower abdomen. Where was it going? It was slowly making its way down to his...oh gods!
The Black King's NERVOUSNESS GAUGE hit CRITICAL MASS and executed a LV. 99 CASE OF THE VAPORS. He fainted.
The Black Queen cackled to herself as she watched her King roll his eyes up into his head and lose consciousness. Just like Jack was so adorable when he was whipped into a frothing rage, the King was adorable when he was nervous. It so was fun to watch him squirm and to overstimulate him until he swooned. If she had the time, she'd make him pass out all day.
She gave him a kiss on his rounded forehead and draped his violet cape over him like a blanket. She knew he liked her more than just a friend. The fool was as subtle as a Knight in a china shop about it. Her feelings for him, however...they were a bit more complicated. He always was a great friend; probably the only true friend she had left. And had he stayed conscious, she most likely would have helped him into the tub in the next room and mated with him. He had always been pretty cute, but he was downright sexy now that he had a lot more meat under his shell.
She thoughtfully stroked her upper left arm where her carapace had split at the seam and the purple muscle underneath had bulged out. He also had a very arousing touch for someone who's never had a girlfriend before.
However, she didn't like the way he made her feel. She always felt safe around him, like she could let her guard down. That may have been okay when she was still a princess, but queens that let their guard down wound up dead. Besides, boyfriends could be a liability; somebody could kidnap them and hold them for ransom.
She looked over his unconscious form and chuckled to herself. He was such a klutz when it came to romance. She hoped Prospit wouldn't find out about this; all they would have to do his have their queen give him a kiss and he'd be out like a light. That's alright, she was already working hard on toughening him up. She wanted to make him a well-oiled killing machine just in case he was called to the Battlefield.
And maybe after she was done doing that, she'd turn him into a well-oiled sex machine. And maybe Jack too, if she could remove all the knives off his person; he'd be good for a threesome. Nobody would believe it, but she was tired of secretly being a virgin queen.
As much as she hated to get off of him, she did so anyway. She had to wipe off any excess wax off her carapace; otherwise it'd get all over her sheets. As she toweled herself down, she suddenly got an idea. She was originally planning on just lugging the unconscious King back to his chambers, but this was so much more fun!
She crawled under the King's cape and cuddled up next to him. For good measure, she placed his crown on her head and put her hand on his bare chest before going to sleep. He was going to have quite a surprise when he came to, and she wanted to see his reaction.