Dave groans as Gamzee's bulge works its way into him, gritting his teeth against that fucking fantastic feeling of slick flesh writhing and squirming against his insides. Determined as he might be not to yield to Gamzee so quickly, not to show any sign of how much this is affecting him, he can't stop his breath from catching and then speeding up into quick, shallow pants - just like he can't stop his back from arching off the ground and one of his legs from snaking around Gamzee's waist.

"Already got a ffff-fucking scar from you," he growls out, scratching blunt nails down Gamzee's back, trying to distract himself from the way he wants to flip the troll over and ride his bulge until they're both screaming. Just the thought is enough to make his legs tremble, his muscles tightening to grind his hips up against Gamzee's.

"What the fuck else do you want?"