Your name is Karkat Vantas. You enjoy pretending that you're cooler than you are, and taking on responsibilities that you know you can't handle. The fact that these responsibilities were no longer available may have been why you are in such a shitty mood as you sat on the couch of none other than John Egbert, your friend/enemy/you don't fucking know any more. He is currently in the kitchen wearing loose black sweatpants, a white tee-shirt that he intentionally made filthy for the purpose of a walking Nicholas Cage reference as well as something to top any sort of irony that either of the Striders could come up with in that he was wearing a pink, frilly apron over the tough-looking ensemble. Then again, not much, and by that you mean anything, could look tough on Egbert. He weighed about 97 pounds and was a full-grown man, mostly.
Of course, it could also be said that the combination of him in the kitchen making you sandwiches in feminine clothing that was making you even crabbier than usual. Sexual tension will do that to a mature troll. While you weren't quite old enough for the droids to come knocking, you were old enough to start practicing. Not that there were any droids to be preparing for, but the point was that you were horny, and John, in spite of his heterosexual protests, was making himself a lovely target for your sexual frustration.
You flip the channels on John's TV, wishing that there were something to watch on the three thousand channels. You wanted to cry as you flipped through seven channels that all had the same, shitty reality TV show playing. There were music channels that had a bunch of human parents and their many "babies". You wished that there was some troll-Will Smith on, because that man was fucking beautiful; or at least some romantic comedies from your planet. Earth romance was so linear and basic, having none of the wonderful depth of troll relationships.
"Hey, Karkat, are you enjoying yourself?" John called through the house. You are most certainly not enjoying yourself, but you decide to lie for his benefit, and answer in the false affirmative. He seemed happy, and when you look over, he is bending over, and the pants are falling off his mostly flat ass. But it's still an ass, and you discreetly stare at it in spite of its lack of mass.
"That's good. Here, I made the tiny ham sandwiches, and tea. You want a cup?" he asks, sitting down, as you settle on one of the shitty movies he likes so much. Your eyes glaze over, and you sigh.
"For the last time, I don't want any of your Earth leaf sludge." You say, grabbing several of the tiny sandwiches and shoving them into your nubby-toothed mouth.
"It's really good. Please, Karkat, for me?" He pouted, and you blush, and sigh once more. Now he knows he has you beat.
"Fine. But you're getting up to make it. Like hell I'm doing work for something I don't even want." You huff, trying to maintain a sense of authority, in spite of the fact that John is pretty much your best friend who isn't totally homicidal. You want to bash your head against the wall, but would then have to get up, and further undermine your leadership role.
"I was gonna make it for you anyway, silly. That's what a good host does." He said, closing his eyes in a big smile. Unfortunately what little balance the dork had was gone with the closing of his eyes, and he started to topple.
In spite of your ego, or perhaps because of it, you reach to catch him, to then call him a dumb fuckass who needs to pay attention and stop doing retarded things. But that backfired on you when you loose your balance trying to catch him, and instead knocking you both into the coffee table, which was a piece of shit, so it broke and the flat part fell on top of you. This left Egbert sandwiched between the Karkat and a table that he was too weak to move. Now that the game was over, the echeladder was effectively useless, and he was back to his normal pathetic self.
However, he did manage to wriggle around and rub himself against you in places that one should not rub against the sexually frustrated. You grip his stupid shaggy carpet so hard your grey skin is turning white, and you bite your lip, not even noticing the small trickle of candy red blood streaming from it.
"You should really get the fuck off, Egbert." You say, not really sure if it's because of emotions you have yet to work through, or simply because you were in desperate need of some bucket filling, but you could feel yourself preparing for some concupiscent shit. It would be all down hill from here if he didn't free you both soon. Not even a hill. There would be an entire mountain of shit to do a triple-back-flip off of should he not get as far away from you and your growing bulge as possible.
"I'm trying, Karkat. This table is heavy." He said, and you gulp as a fog drifts over your mind. Your species may be more technologically advanced than humans, but you were still far more animalistic, relying on instinct more than anything to survive. Those who didn't trust there instinct never made it out of the brooding caverns. Except Tavros, who apparently couldn't listen to his instinct to stop doing what Vriska told him to do...
"Fuck, it's made of fucking wood, Egbert. It's a piece of shit, just get off me, or thing could get really, really bad for you." At this point you were not using your normal yelling tone of voice. There was a desperate rasp like a man in the desert who hadn't had water in days; only instead of water you were missing something to shove your bulge into.
"I said I'm-" You cut him off, simply kicking the table-top off, and sending it flying across the room with strength you didn't know you had. You hadn't just done this before because you were too busy fighting your inner beast, so to speak, to fight inanimate objects. You had since stopped fighting said beast, and flipped the thin teen around so that you were on top of him. He seemed shocked by the fact that one of your ashen hands held his above his head while the other ripped the apron off of him, sending the fabric flying into the room. You didn't really give a fuck where it went.
"Well, I'm done trying. You walk about, shaking that ass of yours, as if you're just begging for me to take you." You say, licking the vein along his neck, where his blood was contained. He shivers underneath you, and you grin a sadistic smirk.
"K-Karkat, what are you doing?"
"I've been desperate for months, and trying to do it myself isn't working anymore. I need someone else, willing or not." You growl, and his blue eyes grow wide with what you think to be fear, but don't really have enough blood in your brain to process thoroughly.
"Stop this Karkat, I'm not a-" you cut him off once more, tired of his hoofbeast-shit.
"Notice I wasn't giving you a fucking choice. You can cooperate, and this can be enjoyable for us both, or you can fight. Matesprit or Kismesses: you decide, John." You say, pressing lips to his, and roughly forcing your tongue in to the soft mouth. Even if he was fighting, you didn't think you'd be able to tell. The kid defined weak nerd, and you were happy to take advantage of his weakness.
"Please, don't do this…" He begs beneath you, but the fog is too thick now. Your blood is boiling, just like the water for the shitty earth sludge John seemed so fond of.
"Your shit is wrecked." You say, as you free him from/force him out of his pants. You see not only his odd human bulge, but also the fact that he appears to have no nook. Well that's fucking inconvenient.
"Well, what the fuck do you have going on then?" He spat back defensively. You grin, and stand for a moment to remove your own jeans. You smile when he makes no attempt at escape. He simply looks at you with those beautiful blue eyes, swirling with emotional uncertainty. What John didn't know, is that in spite of your mutant blood, you actually had quite the impressive set-up. Bulges got increasingly small as the spectrum went up, probably why Feferi didn't want to be with that fucking looser in spite of the fact that they were obviously made for each other.
"A normal, if not above so, troll bulge. So, what's it gonna be, John?" you ask. If he agrees to this, than you will take the more submissive roll, and allow yourself to be the one entered. If not, then his shit-hole would just have to do.
"I- fine. But not because I want to or anything!" He protested, his face flushing redder than you thought possible. You wonder if it was the culture shock, or the entirety of the situation. While they served generally the same purpose, your genitalia proved quite different. As mentioned above, his was completely average for a human. Yours is, as also mentioned above, slightly above average, but still the same generally make-up. A mass of writhing tentacles that harden into a sort of small, third horn when not arouse, making trolls confused by the human term "horny" since they became quite the opposite.
"Then this won't do." You say, bending down and placing your mouth, careful of the teeth, around his strange human member. Since you lived in a society where "masturbation" was heavily discouraged, there was not troll porn and as such when you had the need, you had to settle for human porn. This meant that you were well versed in the ways of making a human male feel good, given that it wasn't all that different from yourself.
He hardens in your mouth, and as he bucks up, obviously more than willing, you raise your nearly dripping nook over hip, and lower yourself slowly. Or at least you try to. Like a shark that smelled blood, as soon as he started to feel you, he thrust up, and you hiss in pain. He mumbles an apology, and then looses intelligible speech as the tentacles wrap around the base of his dick, massaging it, since they have no nook of their own to burrow into.
As you are being sated, bouncing atop him like a wriggler in a candy shop, the fog starts to fade away, and you start to realize what you are doing. While embarrassment is a key factor, guilt becomes the dominant feeling.
"I'm sorry, John." You whisper in his ear, and then nibble on the ear lobe. It may be the fact that you were currently mating with him, but you could feel your uncertain feelings reveiling themselves to be pretty red, and a tear of the same color rolls down your cheek.
"K-Kar…" He trails off, lost in the throes of ecstasy.
"I couldn't hold it in. please forgive me, John." Somehow you feel saying his name made it more serious. You cut off any retort with a sweet kiss, tongues dancing as he decides, whether consciously or not, to reciprocate the kiss.
"I'm gonna…" You cut him off again, as your genetic material drenches you both, sweat dripping from your body, making the shirt you never bothered taking off cling to you like a second, darker skin. You feel something shoot into you, and assume that it was his material as well.
"Please forgive me?" You ask, making eye contact with him. He smiles at you, and hope flutters in his chest.
"That was amazing. Of course. But only if you love me like I love you…?" He said, unsure of himself.
"Of course, you fuckass. If we were kimesses, you'd be bleeding." You say, collapsing next to him, and wrapping him in your arms.
"And I'm still not a homosexual." He said, his eyes seeming to say, "fucking told you". This would normally anger you, but you don't have the strength.
"Don't fucking spoil it." You say, hugging him closer, and drifting to sleep.
A/N- so this is my first time writing alien sex, so tell me how it was. Review if nothing else to tell me how to improve.