A/N: Alrighty then! This is my first Homestuck fic! I'm well aware I should be waiting until I'm completely caught up before I even think of writing anything, but I started writing THIS, and I couldn't resist! D=
This is KurMeu, and this IS PWP. And I apologize for any rampant OOCness, mostly and particularly on Kurloz's part. I'm only on Act 4 and I only know what I know about the Dancestors and the trolls in general from reading the MSPA wiki. Please forgive me. OTL
I really couldn't resist posting this—even at the risk of a possibly too OOC Kurloz (but I'm not sure if he's really THAT OOC. That'll be for you all to judge) because there's just such an EXTREME and RIDICULOUS lack of KurMeu lemons. Especially KurMeu lemons that take place in the canon universe.
Anyway, this does contain an explicit lemon. Read if you're comfortable. Don't if you're not.
So please read, enjoy, and reviews are love! =)
P.S.: I now have a tumblr! The address is "meulins-disciple (dawt) tumblr (dawt) com"
Just get rid of the spaces and quotation marks and replace the "(dawts)'s" in the URL with actual periods (".")! The tumblr has nothing posted on it yet (except the link to this fic, which will be posted on it soon), but it's my personal tumblr where I will post stuff about fics and whatnot! Ask me a question if you feel like it; you don't even need to log in to do so! ;)
The Skeletons in Our Closet
By: Meulin's Disciple
Her name is Meulin Leijon, and despite what everyone thinks and has been led to believe, she and her matesprit Kurloz Makara have never actually seperated.
Most of the sweeter, more lustful intimacies they share haven't been quite the same as before, but she still loves them all the same. When she kisses him, he can't really reciprocate, and their tongues can no longer tangle in the same desperate dance they once did, tight stitches of thread binding his mouth closed, making that completely impossible. But even if the barrier wasn't present, he has naught left but a short stump remaining of what was once his tongue.
Needless to say, Kurloz's oral amputation has made foreplay of the same variety from his end impossible, and Meulin would consider herself a damned, dirty liar if she ever said that she didn't miss it, but she loves Kurloz enough that the loss of that one thing didn't matter too much, and Kurloz—ever the considerate one—always refuses to accept any oral attentions from Meulin aside from perhaps a kiss or two to his sewn lips. But, when they pailed, he would love her with such a sweetness, care, and attentiveness that it more than made up for what he could no longer do for her.
One day, after they've just pailed, Meulin brings up a sore subject with her matesprit, the tuskbeast in the room of sorts. "Take out the stitches. You don't have anything to purrove to me; I furgave you long ago," she says softly—an interesting and rare change from her normal almost-shouting (but as she is unable to gauge the volume of her voice, she speaks so softly as to be somewhat hard to hear. It's really hit or miss with her tonal changes)—frowning, a pained glint in her ephemeral eyes.
Kurloz immediately tenses in her arms and looks at her wide-eyed, almost frightened, like she had just struck him. There was a sort of pleading desperation in his phantom orbs. All of a sudden, she understands. He has said nothing, verbally or telepathically, but she suddenly just... understands and never again brings up the topic.
Again they pail, but this time, they forgo the bucket they've been so accustomed to. There is no need for it, nor has there been a need for it for a very long time. It is a silent decision—no words exchanged—to do this, and somehow, the love feels even sweeter than usual. Their hands are clasped with one another's and their fingers are intertwined, and Meulin, drunk with bliss, moans and babbles gibberish softly and sweetly into Kurloz's ear as he pushes into her from beneath. His bulge squirms powerfully within her, desperate for release, but he forces himself to a calmer state; Meulin is the priority. She always was and always is and always will be. He continues to roughly thrust in and out of her body, just the way she likes it. "Ah, Kurloz!" Meulin loudly cries out as she can feel her body buzzing with absolute pleasure. "S-so close..."
Meulin's upper half is resting on Kurloz's own body, while her hips are lifted just enough, allowing him to thrust into her just as roughly as she likes but without going overboard. She is indeed very close, but Kurloz, for all of his attempts at self-control, isn't very far behind. He removes both of his hands from his matesprit's hips before bringing one down to her much smaller bulge and gently grasping the moist, wriggling tentacle-like appendage, stroking it with a fairly loose grip. She gasps and then her body stiffens, her breaths now coming hard and heavy. So, so close, yet not quite there...
'Kurloz, purrlease...' she mouths, breathless, an almost crazed desperation to reach completion encompassing her senses in a dense haze.
Kurloz's breath is coming in the form of short, dense puffs of air, and though he can barely manage to focus on anything but the pleasure and Meulin (Oh, dear, sweet Meulin... My beautiful Kitty-Bitch...), he brings his other hand up to her head and carefully tweaks one of her horns. "Ku-Kurloz! Ahn~" Meulin keens. It is with that action that she finally comes undone and her nook quivers and pulses around Kurloz's bulge, her genetic material leaking copiously from her own bulge. The rippling walls of his matesprit's nook around him are too much to handle and he also reaches climax—his own genetic material seeping out from Meulin's pulsing nook—and in its throes—though he has forbade himself from ever again speaking—moans what sounds like a muffled moan of Meulin's name coming from his chewed-out tongue, and Meulin notices. Under normal circumstances, she would not be able to tell what another was saying from jaw movements alone, but looking, and feeling the rumble of a neglected voice from within his chest, it was the most logical guess in Meulin's mind. The brief sight of Kurloz breaking his vow to moan her name and the knowledge that she was the only one who could ever drive him to do so manages to ramp her climax higher somehow and though it does not set off a second orgasm, it lengthens the one she is experiencing, which Kurloz seems to feed off of in their shared moment of rapture. He brings both of his hands to her behind, stroking down it and down her thighs as he rides out the pleasure with Meulin.
When the concupiscent cascade finally slows and returns to normal flow, Meulin begins to cry softly into Kurloz's chest and embraces him tightly. When he telepathically and concernedly inquires into this action, she whimpers that he said her name and that she really missed it, that knowing that he said it was like the first time she heard him say it the first time they ever pailed.
A bittersweet moment for Kurloz.
He gave such a wonderful joy to his beloved matesprit, but at the cost of damning his vow. "What a waste I've made of my repentance..." he murmurs softly to her telepathically, moving a stray lock of hair from Meulin's face. She immediately looks up at him, cheeks tear-stained, eyes pitying of him, of the punishment he puts himself through. She kisses his threaded lips and he mentally tells her to stop, that his lips are not worthy of being blessed by her own. She tells him that he's being ridiculous and that even the worst of sinners can be saved if they're truly repentent.
He's given up with the debate at this point and leaves Meulin the last word, as always. The woman has always been stubborn, but he gives up earlier than usual. He considers that she may perhaps have a point.
But then he considers that he doesn't know any other way to go about his repentence.
For once, he lets his literal slip of the tongue slide.
He then notices that Meulin has already fell into slumber, and gives a brief smile when he notices that he is still embedded within her and that they are both covered in some oddly colored mixture of their genetic material and then follows his wonderful Kitty-Bitch into that place where only whispering lullabies and exhaustion allow one to go.
His name is Kurloz Makara, and he has decided that it's really nice to have skeletons in your closet, but it's even nicer when you're able to share some of those skeletons with someone else.