Dave goes down hard, the wind knocked out of him, and by the time he gets it back to protest the rough treatment, he's starting to wonder just what Gamzee's up to. He's staring at the troll's back - not a bad view, really, although there are certainly better ones - and reaching out to scratch or something, when Gamzee's bulge starts to force it's way into him, and suddenly his hands aren't scratching, but gripping desperately at Gamzee's bony hips, and when the fuck did that happen?

It's a little distracting, that feeling, and so he has to work kind of hard to focus on what Gamzee's saying, on the slight shift of muscles as the troll turns to look at him, and even then, it takes a moment for Dave to get it. He does, though, eventually - and it helps when he feels his hips buck up, trying to get Gamzee's bulge deeper in him, faster, because this slow burn is driving him mad, and the motion forces him to go sliding into Gamzee's nook, and -

"Ssshit," Dave hears himself say, and it comes out all slurred and almost unintelligible, because this is too much. There's that familiar, full sensation building in him from Gamzee's bulge, and his dick is sliding into that gripping, warm wetness, and that sound Gamzee just made, the one Dave can't even put a name to because humans don't make noises like that, they don't need a word to describe it - he's panting, he can hear himself, but he can't stop it, no more than he can release the death grip he's got on Gamzee's hips, like he's desperately trying to ground himself in the midst of all this.

Which, coincidentally, is exactly what he's doing.