You smile down at him as your nook takes his bulge eagerly. He can't see it, of course. Not with that blindfold over his eyes. But judging by the way he's moaning and how his slick bulge writhes inside you, warming your nook in ways that shouldn't be possible, you doubt he's complaining.

You were on the fucking bottom of the hemospectrum, a rustblood, burgundy of all colors. You were supposed to be the warmest troll out there.

And then you met Karkat. The troll who wasn't even on the spectrum at all.

You'd gone to visit your moirail during one of his bad periods, to make sure he wasn't dead or close to it, and feed and bathe him if he wasn't. When you arrived, there he was, Mr. Angry-All-Gray-Caps carcinoGeneticist, apparently just as worried and with the same plan to check on and take care of his best friend/potential black crush.

The two of you – grudgingly on his part – worked together to get Sollux to eat something, before you all but dragged him to the ablution block and then finally into his recuperacoon, all three of you bickering the whole time. When the two of you accidentally brushed hands after helping him slide into the blue side of his strange 'coon, you knew, just by the burning of hisskin against yours, even if his touch only lasted seconds before he'd jerked away, shielding his appendage as if you were the one who'd burned him.

Of course you'd cornered him once Sollux was successfully sleeping, and he admitted his cherry red secret. His posture had fallen into a tense stance, his right hand ready to go to his strife specibus, no doubt to retrieve a weapon in case you made just one wrong little move. That had tipped you off earlier in the nutritionblock, the fact that he was right-handed. You weren't sure if it was a mutant aspect or not, but it was sure unusual. Everyone else was left-handed after all. While you talked, he only relaxed – and only mildly – after you swore you had no intention of turning him in.

Now you knew why he hid behind the gray. And you knew you had to help him with that secret, too. You knew exactly what they would do to him if Feferi didn't kill the Condense and make empress.

For the longest time, you were the only one who knew, besides his moirail. If anyone found out, not only would he be publicly executed, but you would be culled as well. Gamzee was high enough, just below the seadwellers, that he would most likely be spared, though you weren't sure.

That's why you shouldn't be helping him. That's why you definitely shouldn't be fucking him. Yet here you were, and you wouldn't change any second of it.

His bulge thrashed violently and he groaned your name among various curses as he shot his hot genetic material deep inside you. Just the sensation of something so warm set you off, and you yourself arched your back, spraying him with dark red. Your colors dripped all over the desk you'd sprawled him over, and you were thankful you'd had the piece of mind to shove everything off it first, especially the plans Sollux and he had been making up for the rebellion you were all suicidal enough to work toward. You never used pails. Too much risk. Maybe, mixed well enough, your shared material could pass as that of two rust bloods, but it wasn't a chance you were willing to take.

As you untied him and removed the blindfold, you felt a pang of sadness. You may have been at the bottom, but at least you were still actually on the blood order, not slated to be culled for your differences alone. You helped him clean up with a grin forced on your face. After all, the ghosts have said nothing about his death, and Sollux has yet to hear his angry voice screaming in his head.

Yet.