You're barely in the door when you're shoving Dave against it and kissing him. Neither of you hold back. He breathes hard in your ear and the kiss is sloppy and wet enough that you feel spit getting onto your cheeks and chin and you're not even sure whose it is. You shift your body over to get a little bit of friction on Dave's hip, but it's hard because he's tipped both of them up so he can get your thigh between his legs.
His packer's slipped a little bit out of place and now it's getting in his way. You just laugh at him as he makes little frustrated noises because he's got a solid inch of rubber between his crotch and your body. It's hard to tell, but from the one eye you can see it looks like he's glaring at you over his shades. His tongue retracts slightly and you follow it, only for him to bite.
It's not hard enough to make you bleed or even to really hurt, but you see black. Your ears tip downwards and your purr turns into a growl. Without thinking you take his lower lip in your mouth and bite back.
"Ah! Fuck!"
You pull back in concern. That was on the fine line between a good shout and a bad one. He touches his fingers to his lips and they come away with a hint of red. He looks at them for a moment. You open your mouth to apologize, but then he grins.
"You're gonna fucking pay for that."
He shoves you away and then grabs you by the hair before you can react. You snarl at him but he's holding on too tightly to attempt to escape. He pulls your head to the side and undoes your tie to get at your neck. You feel his flat teeth on your skin and groan. Your knees feel weak as he leaves his mark on you. It doesn't help that he's rubbing the base of your horn with his thumb.
Any proper kismesis would have left you for getting caught so quickly. Luckily, Dave isn't a proper kismesis. He's an unnatural blur of everything and, fuck it all, you love this. When he pulls away you know there's a big red mark forming.
"You gonna be a good little bitch now?" he asks.
"Yes," you reply even though you both know it's probably not true.
"Good." He lets go of your hair. "Bedroom. Now."
You really should tackle him then. It would be easy when his guard was down to pin him, to get his clothes off, and to fuck him right then and there. But then he wouldn't have his proper bulge and without that you can't even do blackrom the right way. So instead you follow like a barkbeast. As soon as you get close to the bed he's suddenly behind you. His hands deftly undo your pants and the buttons on your shirt.
"Oh man, can't wait to see you on my dick," he whispers in your ear.
You snarl, but then his hands are off your waist and one's around your neck while the other's holding your hair. Your pants fall to the ground.
"Come on, Karkles. Do you really need another mark to remind you who's topping tonight? I can put this one higher if you like, so every time you look in the mirror you remember you lost to a squishy, pathetic human half a foot shorter than you."
Your voice dims to a growl.
"'S what I thought. Get on the bed and take your underwear off."
You growl but do so. You reach for your undershirt, but he stops you. "Don't. I like that color on you. Brings out your pretty eyes. Now stay."
It's pathetic to sit there kneeling, wearing your partner's color and your flushed sheath bared for the world to see. But you don't move. Instead you watch as he drops his own clothes. He doesn't offer to do the same favor you paid him and takes his socks off too so that he's naked except for his binder. At least you can take some comfort in the fact that he still has a lovely pair of bruises the exact shape of your hands on his hips. You get a really good look at then when he breezes past you to get to the bedside table so he can switch out his smaller, softer bulge for a nice hard one.
Shit, he's getting the really big one out. It doesn't fit nicely into your nook even with a lot of preparation. For the sake of your internal organs, you pray that he just picked it for symbolic purposes and/or the fact that it's got the little attachment that slips under the harness to stimulate his real bulge, permanently sheathed as it may be.
It looks odd where it hangs between his legs, thick and stiff and a red too bright to be natural. But you like the way that he stands when he has it out, a little taller, a little prouder. He straddles your thighs and grabs your chin.
"Say you're mine," he growls.
"Just fucking get it over with."
He lets you go and pulls away. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You sure? You don't sound very eager."
You roll your eyes. "Ever heard of role play?"
"Right, okay." His expression softens.
"Fuck, Dave, you're almost as thick as Egbert."
"Ow, that hurts. As long as you think I'm almost as sexy as him too."
"Don't worry, you're every bit as hot." You put your hands on his cheeks and kiss him slowly and sweetly.
When the two of you break apart Dave laughs. "Even mentioning the dork ruins kinky time, doesn't it?"
"We don't know that for sure."
"Right." He kisses the side of your neck. "You're just saying that because it was hate at first sight."
"Mmm… maybe."
One of his hands rubs your thigh. "So I think I might have accidentally killed that other mood. Wanna make a new one?"
"Well that would be the logical fucking choice of action."
You pet his sides from the hem of his binder down to his hips. He groans softly and eases you backward onto the bed. When you spread your legs he takes a moment to stare. You always feel kind of awkward because it's the one time you're never able to see through his poker-face. You want to hide, to close your legs and cover yourself but you don't.
After a moment he smiles just a little bit and lies on your chest. You remove his shades and set them on the bedside table. Now that he's close enough to see you, you want to see him too. He rolls his hips and his bulge presses down against your sheath. With a whine you swing right open.
Your bulge juts out to wrap around his.
"Jeez, give me a chance to turn it on."
"You should have started sooner."
"Yeah, well… Oh, hey guys."
Your bulge, of course, has decided to pay with his fingers instead. You try to stop it, but the damn thing just never does what you want it to. Dave starts laughing.
"Oh my fucking God, stop petting it!"
"Sure, as soon as you stop purring."
Somehow one of the tendrils of your bulge manages to nudge the dial on Dave's bulge, putting it on low.
"Ah, shit-! Karkat!"
"Hnn- Now you gonna stop petting?"
"Yeah. So I can do… this." He slips his hand a little further back and slips two fingers into your nook.
"Ah! John!"
"Oh, should I be jealous? Rather have Mr. Long-Fingers down here?"
"What? Oh shit. Look, it happens!"
"If I say his name when I come you can't be pissed now."
"Where you- un- were you planning on it?"
"Oh, that's a new noise. I like that one. What else you holding back, Karkles?"
"Barely concealed rage."
His laugh makes his bulge twitch oddly, but hell if you don't like it. You wrap your legs around his hips and he begins to rut down against you.
"Fuck, Dave!"
"'S what I'm doin'."
"At least I fucking said the right name this time."
"Yeah, whatever." He bites your shoulder and you keen.
You have no fucking idea what color you're supposed to be right now. His bulge and his teeth say black, but his fingers and his vocalizations say red, and his eyes are saying pale of all things. He resettles his weight a little bit so that he can reach up and start touching your horns. It's just affectionate, not sexual or even sensual. Your bloodpusher is racing, pumping around an variable cocktail of contradicting hormones.
It's hard to breathe. Your diaphragm doesn't want to work with you, possibly because your thinkpan is too busy trying to sort everything out. You will yourself to just accept it, to not worry about the quadrants and just enjoy the nearly overwhelming sensations Dave's giving you.
"Let me please you." Oh god, could you have said something more third-rate porno? He's going to give you shit.
But instead he just says, "Oh, babe, you already are."
"Fuck, you'd better get off to this."
"Oh I am!"
Your fine motor control is too unreliable to attempt touching his nook, so instead you kind of end up messily petting his hair. He's saying something, but when he's coming apart his accent gets thick and he starts talking way too fast and he's directing most of his words into your rumble spheres anyway so your shirt absorbs most of the sound. Not that you care much. Your bulge is wrapping as tightly as it can around his. You feel the genetic material welling up inside of you, pressure mounting steadily. Your nook's not fairing any better. You've pulled his fingers down to their base but it's still not enough.
Why the fuck didn't you make him grab the bulge he can actually fuck you with?
You realize not long thereafter because if he did there's no way in hell you wouldn't have come already. Because holy shit.
Dave inhales sharply and starts to shudder. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. As goofy as it is, you still love his orgasm face. He grips you tightly, and on your horn it hurts slightly because his nails are digging into sensitive skin. With his other hand he's pressing up against your seedflap and it takes all you have not to spill all over the bed.
"Dave! Bucket!" You shout.
He looks up at you, eyes bleary, but it only takes him a split second to react. First he pulls away from you. His movement is jarring and somewhat painful, which helps you keep your material in. He helps you onto your knees and the bucket slips between your thighs. One arm wraps around your waist and the other reaches between your legs. Your bulge wraps happily around his wrist and his fingers press back up and in.
"It's okay," he whispers in your ear. "You can come."
You try, you really do, but for some reason the gates won't open. Still, the pressure mounts and it starts to get painful.
"I can't." You squeak out.
"Ssh, yes you can. Come on, babe. I know you've got so much in you. Just relax."
You whine, you rut against him, but you just won't… Then he kisses you. For a moment you're taken aback, but then you relax into the kiss. You hear the sound of your genetic material hitting the pail before you start to feel the relief. But when you do it hits you all at once.
Your legs shake, you lose your breath. If Dave wasn't holding you you would have collapsed by now. But he is, and you start to feel as though your internal organs have all liquefied and are streaming out of your bulge. He's murmuring in your ear, but you neither know nor care what is actually coming out of his mouth other than the soft, sweet tone.
When you finish, he peels off your sweat-soaked shirt and carefully eases you back down onto the bed. You lie there dazed for a minute, just watching. He gets out of bed, straightens up, and stretches. Fucking humans and their fucking ability to get up right after sex. He kisses your forehead and then he's gone. You hear water running and you know he's rinsing out the bucket and probably wiping down his toys and his actual genitals. You remember, amused, how angry he was the time you grabbed him before he could run off and he started whining about how he felt slimy and gross. Well, so do you but you're not complaining.
Eventually he comes back, washcloth in hand. You purr as he runs it over your thighs and your still-sensitive sheath. When he's satisfied with his handiwork, he tosses the cloth into the laundry bin and slides back into bed next to you. Now you can take him and make him your little spoon.
"So," he says, "What did you think?"
"You're fucking amazing."
"I meant about the date, not the sex."
"You're fucking amazing."
"Do you think John liked it?"
"Dave, I don't know if you realize this, but John is worse at keeping his feelings to himself than I am."
"I guess…"
"Hey, don't worry about it."
"But it's John. And I just… I really want him to like us."
"So do I. But no matter what happens…" You kiss the back of his neck. "You still have me."
He caresses the hand you've got on his middle. "Thanks, man. You're pretty cool, you know that, right?"
"I love you too."
For a moment you let yourself just lie there and listen to his breathing and feel his belly expand and contract with each breath. It's nice. Just like feeling the beating of his heart and the heat of his skin, sometimes you just like the reminder that the man you love is alive and well.
"Sorry I'm so shitty at pillow talk today," He says. "I'm tired."
"It's fine. I'm on the same flotation device."
That's the last thing you say before you wake up the next morning to the smell of eggs, sausages, and fresh coffee.