paradiseblossoms | Text Test Post

Oh, fuck that shit - Dave's not about to be naked while Gamzee flits about in all of his ridiculous clothing. He struggles out of the rest of his shirt while Gamzee attacks his pants, and then his calloused hands are sliding all over the troll, tugging and pulling at fabric and fastenings.

With Gamzee's mouth occupied on his neck, he finds the troll's horns are in easy mouthing reach, so he eagerly applies tongue to long, curved horns.

He chirps and trills in pleasure at that mouth sliding over his horns and Dave's hands working at his clothes. He lets Dave work, because that was going to be next anyway, and drags his nails down Dave's side as he busies himself by sucking on the marks he's leaving.

His bulge is nearly writhing already, but he can't help it at all; this is too intense for anything else.

Remembering last time, Dave lets his attentions get a little rough - he digs blunt nails into Gamzee wherever he can, tugs roughly at fabric so it rasps over pale grey skin, even goes so far as to apply his teeth carefully to Gamzee's horns in a soft scraping motion along the length.

One of his hands claws its way down Gamzee's lanky frame and slips past the loosened waistband of his pants, where Dave wraps long fingers around the troll's bone bulge and pumps, just once.

Yes, fuck yes. Gamzee likes the roughness, responding with throaty sounds and shifting into Dave's touches. The teeth on horns gets a little hiss, but it's a good one as he bites down and laps up more blood. He cups and kneads Dave's ass while moving against him, leaving lines and lines of so very shallow scratches--almost like papercuts--to irritate and sting.

But the stroke to his bulge makes his fingers dig in, drawing up thick beads of blood. "OH FUCK. ngh, Dave, fuck--"

He immediately hates himself for being so motherfucking responsive, but everything is so intense that it threatens to sweep him away.

Fuck, Dave doesn't mind those little scratches so much - they sting in a way that makes him hiss softly against Gamzee's horns, breaths low and harsh, and they heal up a hell of a lot faster than those gouges Gamzee cut into him last time.

Which, hey, speaking of which, kind of seem like they're making a repeat appearance as claws suddenly rake against his skin, and Dave gives a clipped, strained kind of noise that's half grunt, half groan, his leg tightening instinctively around Gamzee's hips and crushing his hand between their bodies, still wrapped around Gamzee's bulge.

He doesn't want to lose that incredible feeling against his horns, but at the same time he wants to feel that wicked and talented mouth against his. He wants other things too, and the desires are so conflicting. To fuck, to be fucked. To do it right here, with Dave shoved against the wall or to force him on hands and knees and enjoy him like that.

He groans and growls, getting impatient with himself and with the whole situation, while tonguing one of the bites he's left. The wall seems like a good idea, with Dave's leg wrapped around them like this. So Gamzee pulls a hand free, taking a moment to smack Dave's ass over the shallow cuts he'd left, and shoves his own pants down around his thighs. His bulge is wild, getting indigo all over Dave's hand and their stomachs, and he lets his hand join Dave's in part to gather some of that slickness. He's learned that humans don't have a nook at all (strange, backward species) so there's only one option, and he wants Dave begging unashamedly for more, not screaming in pain, mostly. That can come later, in a different situation.

Hey, the trolls created the human universe, it's pretty much their fault that humans don't have nooks. Or tentacledicks, which - speaking of which - keeps slipping through Dave's fingers as he tries to stroke it, indigo fluid smearing everywhere.

His hips jerk forward again at that smack, painful for a number of reasons, the least of which is not that there's thin rivulets of sweat running down his body, salt being rubbed into tiny little cuts - and that shit stings like a bitch.

And, fuck, he knows he should probably fight back, should probably resist - that's what all of this is about, right? - but he knows what it's like, sex with a troll, and he can't help but think that sex with Gamzee is bound to be really, really good.

If Gamzee had known that something they up and motherfucking did made humans nookless, he would have tried to change things. Honestly, he up and blamed it on the fucking frog being wrong. But those thoughts are pushed away by how Dave writhes against him, so hot and wanting and fuck damn is he going to give.

He reaches down and takes Dave's dick in hand with a few strokes, spreading indigo prettily all over flushed skin. Mm, good, it makes that skin nice and slick. He growls and then presses his hand back between his own legs for a second, letting out a high-pitched needy whine as his fingers dip into his dripping nook, getting thoroughly soaked and slick. "Be all motherfucking easier if you had a nook."

That's all the warning he gives before he busies himself with making sure Dave is slick enough to take his bulge. "FUCK. Tight motherfucker, aren't you?"

"Yeah, 'cause this is all about making things easier for you," Dave snarls, though he can't stop his hips bucking into Gamzee's stroking hand, or the embarrassing whine that tears itself from his throat as Gamzee's fingers push into him. He can't help it - it's just so fucking good, and it makes him think about how much better it's going to be when Gamzee's bulge is in him, writhing in that completely alien way, and that just makes it so much worse.

He's no troll, but there's definitely fluid leaking from the tip of his aching dick, rolling slowly down the length of it, and even as it throbs against his stomach, smearing through that indigo painted all over him - and cut with just the finest hints of red - Dave digs deep and finds he can still manage words, even if they do come out a little strained.

"Nngh - yeah, you going to be able to handle yourself? It's - ah - it's not like your dripping wet nook, this shit'll - oh, fuck - m-milk you dry."

"Better be all getting your believe on. GONNA FILL YOU SO MOTHERFUCKING FULL UP WITH INDIGO. Stain up your insides with my color." He barely gets that out, with numerous pauses to gasp and groan in between words. Just the clench of Dave around his fingers drives him wild and he presses them deeper, exploring every contour by touch. This will feel so motherfucking good around his bulge.

But his nook is dripping wet, and he can feel that splendidly thick dick pressed against his stomach. Remembered sensations slither through him like liquid fire and he groans, loud and deep as he feels a drop of his fluids start sliding down his thigh with aching viscous slowness. Oh fuck is he wet. He wonders if Dave will get his revenge after this. Press him down and fuck him raw until he's nothing but sensation and liquid. Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck yes. But another thought hits him. Who's to say they can't have motherfucking both at the same time? It would be a fucking awkward position, but his bulge is long enough. Be easier if Dave had a proper nook but Gamzee likes the idea. A lot. He hisses out low, needy sounds, and can't keep a chirrup away.

"Want to-- motherfuck. Want... Fuck you against the wall, BULGE ALL UP IN YOU. Or, ngggh, throw you on the floor. GET OUR MOTHERFUCKING ADVENTURE ON. Are you brave? TRY SOMETHING YOU DONE UP AND NEVER TRIED BEFORE?"

Well, Tavros might have thought of it already, but he'll have to take that chance.

Dave whines - fucking whines, although he'll deny it with everything he has if anyone ever asks about it - at the thought of Gamzee's bulge pumping fluid into him. He knows what that's like, knows it feels too fucking good to be allowed, knows it's just one more of those distinctly alien things that somehow drive him fucking wild. His hips rock against Gamzee's fingers, disregarding claws for now as he tries to force them deeper into himself - although Gamzee seems to be taking enough care with them.

That sound - all those fucking sounds, really, but that one last chirrup at the end - fuck, Dave loves that shit. The best fucking kind of turn-on, and it makes Dave shudder against Gamzee, wondering what the fuck he just thought of to make those noises come spilling out of him. Dave's attempt at a scoff comes out just a little shaky, but at this point, who's really keeping score anymore?

"Haven't you heard, bro?" he asks, and fuck, did his voice really just crack? What is he, going through puberty again? He got enough of that shit the first time around. "I'm a fucking hero. Suicide missions and all that shit - 'brave' is practically my fucking middle name."

Another chirrup, and another, as he shudders with how intensely he wants. Dave is up for it, and oh so soon he'll have his bulge deep in that madding, furnace-heat, while Dave's dick pries and stretches him open. It will be motherfucking perfect. Gamzee makes another sound, a deep growl that very nearly vibrates bone, and pulls Dave away from the wall. He shoves, letting himself follow down and rub all over.

Then he puts his natural flexibility to work. He has to turn his back--oh and isn't that a motherfucking thrill of danger and sweet-hot lust--and yank Dave's legs apart, while tipping forward and tangling his with the human's. It would be fucking painful for any length of time, but he's so flexible that the stretch just feels good. His nook rubs against the shaft of Dave's dick, but not quite hard enough to slip in yet, while his bulge writhes against Dave's balls and down between Dave's thighs. Gamzee has to shift and guide the tip in with one hand, but once it finds where it's supposed to go, it's all over wriggling and undulating its way in.

"GOING TO TAKE MY MOTHERFUCKING TIME. Get to know every inch full up in you. MAP THAT SHIT FULL OUT."

He looks over his shoulder, expression cocky, to watch Dave's face. To watch as he realizes what's starting to go motherfucking down. He can't thrust like this so it's sinfully torturously slow, only the movement of his bulge and minuscule, intimate grinds of his hips pressing him further in, and finally, Dave just a tiny bit into him. The stretch is there and he cries out, adding an alien sound of pleasure no human could possibly voice.

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.

Gamzee's entire universe narrows to him in Dave, Dave in him. It's exquisite. It's torture. There's nothing but small movements between them, too intimately connected to move more without bringing the other with them. His hips work in tiny movements that would be delicate, except it's not. It wouldn't be without that tie. It's all he can manage as his bulge writhes and undulates the rest of the way into Dave, and Dave's dick fills him so motherfucking full at the very same time. His hips will have bruises in the exact shape of Dave's splayed fingers tomorrow, but he can only feel the grip as a part of the whirl of sensation threatening to send him exploding into space.

It's as if his voice tries to make up for how his body can't manage moving like every instinct urges. More alien sounds of pleasure burst forth from among the more familiar moans and cries and curses. Once he's settled, as deep as bulge and dick can get, he's nearly shaking without how intensely he feels. Filled and filling, body a-quiver around Dave's dick and bulge writhing so enthusiastically it's nearly doing corkscrews in that furnace heat that clutches him so perfectly. Not base deep, because no position could manage that, but the base is tucked against the fleshy sack Dave calls his balls, and their movements make that contact and pressure feel very nice.

He takes a deep, ragged breath, back in an arch with head tipped back and mouth open to allow him to pant. "MotherFUCK, Dave. Dave-- FUCK, DAVE."

If there is a verbal equivalent to keysmashing, that's the sound Dave is making right now - has been making for the past few moments. Because it's not enough that he's got his dick in Gamzee's nook and the troll's bulge pressed into him, it's not enough that Gamzee's nook is pulsing and gripping and fuck, it's not enough that Gamzee keeps making those sounds - no. None of that is enough, because Gamzee's bulge has apparently decided that now is the best time to go fucking hogwild in Dave's ass, and shit that is quite possibly the most amazing thing Dave has ever felt.

Sex with Tavros is great - mindblowing, even, sometimes - but this is just...different. This is hot and hard and urgent in a way that sex with Tavros never is. That writhing is so good it's almost painful, Dave thinks for a moment that he might just come apart at the seams from the way it fills him up, and his mind goes oddly fuzzy around the edges.

He might be cursing, or pleading, or something, but fuck if he knows. His world seems to have narrowed to those two points of contact, his dick and Gamzee's bulge, and whatever's spilling from his mouth, he's not in control of it anymore. His hips twitch and roll in shallow waves, rocking him into Gamzee and then back onto the troll's bulge, and fuck, this isn't going to last very long.

"Fffuck, Gamz. Gamz, I-I can't -"

Gamzee can't even form words anymore, aside from "Dave" and "fuck" and they are like dashes of flavor amid all the sounds. He sounds more desperate and needy with each passing second, hovering right on the edge as he moves with Dave. It's urgent, wild, and somehow perfectly in sync, like the best mixed song in history of ever.

Somewhere, he's aware that this could be dragged out, soft and slow and the sweetest torture, but that would be too motherfucking red. It's better like this, small desperate movements, and hungry sounds, and hands gripping at each other like they're the last things in the universe and they'll break apart and drift alone forever if they let go.

He can feel the pleasure like the tide, drawing out deeper and deeper, beaching the fish and the seadwellers, leaving behind only a sense of something is coming. Soon. And fuck, the wave will be the biggest motherfucking wave he's ever experienced.

Somehow - somehow, Dave's not even sure when it happened, or how, or why - one of Dave's hands has found it's way off Gamzee's hips and onto the troll's bony hand, gripping hard enough that he can feel those oddly thin and delicate bones digging into his skin.

There's nothing in his mind anymore - it's gone completely blank, completely taken over by the desire burning through him, by the heat coiling at the base of his dick. All he wants now is for that coil to snap, and it makes his grip tighten on Gamzee's hip, tugging the troll as hard as he can into those short, sharp thrusts of his hips.

His rhythm falters, suddenly - that's always the end of it. That place his body finds where it can't even maintain a beat anymore, his heart and his breathing all out of sync, not even syncopated, but just wild, and his hips stutter up off the ground once, twice, all the muscles in his body drawing tight - and then he's gone, his nails digging into Gamzee's skin, a shuddering moan spilling from his mouth, his back arching to a nearly impossible angle.

The way Dave squeezed his hand was an odd feeling, but a good one. He squeezed back, aware of the bones beneath warm flesh--were all humans so hot-blooded?--and the sensation added to the sea of sensation that was coming closer by the second.

As it gets closer he whines out Dave's name, again and again, only aware of those movements Dave makes and how motherfucking good it feels. His pitch rises, and his volume too, as he starts to feel that rhythm fall apart. He's lost, adrift, his own rhythm faltering at the same time, with nothing to match. Then he feels Dave come. Feels that rush of being filled and the way Dave's body clenches and quivers around him. It's perfect and wonderful and he wails his pleasure to the ceiling.

A few moments, a few movements, later, the wave crests. He feels it build and it's like standing on the dry seabed while the wave towers above him impossibly high. It even pulls the breath right out of him and then it falls. It's like being swept away, with a force more immense than life crashing down around and through him. Gamzee only manages a thin, alien sound of pleasure, too out of breath for much else, as he shakes and stiffens, releasing his genetic material in a flood of indigo.

For a moment, it's like everything is frozen in time, and then he feels completely turned to water, unable to hold himself up. All he can manage as Dave slips out of him is to put a hand back so he doesn't come crashing down like a stone dropped into the sea. He ends up half on Dave, breathing heavily and staring blankly up while the aftershocks rock through him in waves.

Dave has to just lie there, mostly ignoring the lanky troll sprawled all over him, as his body finds its beat again. It's his heart first, which is good - his chest aches a little, like his heart had skipped a few beats - thudding away quickly, but steadily beneath his ribcage.

His breaths follow - sort of. They hitch, every now and then, as little shocks of pleasure jolt up his spine, as his body tries to remember how to exist without fading away into a haze of pleasure - and it doesn't help that he can feel Gamzee's indigo bleeding out of him, pooling on the ground beneath his thighs. But for the most part, his breaths come in short, sharp - but rhythmic - pants.

There's pain, a bit - but certainly nothing like the last time. The small, stinging scratches have all pretty well healed already, which just leaves Dave with those few deeper punctures from where Gamzee gripped too hard, and a not-entirely-unpleasant ache between his legs. All in all, Dave thinks, taking a mental account of his body in the aftermath, not too shabby. And pretty well worth it.

He can't stay here, he knows. Afterglow is too red, too...something. Coherent thoughts are proving rather difficult. But his muscles don't seem to want to cooperate just yet, so he stays where he is, on his back, half under Gamzee.

Gamzee is aware of it being a little too red too, but he's still made of water. The remains of his bones feel like they're nothing more than stirred up sediment by the waves. Waves still rocking him, and his body shudders to their rhythm. All he can hear in his hearducts is a rushing like water, and all he can taste is sweet salt that he knows is blood but can't parse as anything other than the sea right now. Everything is the tides and swells of the ocean.

He's full of wondrous little aches, like fresh bruises, and the rasp of a throat dry from the yelling he did in his pleasure. Funny how he can be water and dry at the same time, but it doesn't matter. Hardly anything does. He's just floating, soft and pleasant, awash in sensation. There is in the back of his mind that he did what he promised. Filled Dave full up with his color and stained at his insides with it. His now, and isn't that a pleasant, smug thought? Yes, yes it is. He wants to up and say that. Tell Dave how it is and glory in it.

"Dave. Fuck." Well, maybe in a little while, when his voice doesn't sound wobbly like he's hearing it from underwater.

"Yeah," Dave says, his voice low and raspy and drawling in a way it hasn't been in a very long time. He's usually careful to keep most of his Southern twang in check, bringing it out only when it's ironically appropriate - though it tends to slip out when he gets tired, and he doesn't ever remember being this tired before.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what just happened here."

Slowly, he starts to struggle to get up. This is all just too...much for him, and suddenly all he wants is to go find Tavros and curl up somewhere. Maybe have another one of those amazingly fantastic showers - although they spent a while after that avoiding each others' eyes whenever Karkat started ranting about someone using all the hot water.

Oh, oh fuck, does that drawl in Dave's voice do funny, wonderful, tingly things to his stomach. Gamzee shivers and groans at the sound of it, the only thing preventing him from starting back up into arousal being how utterly exhausted he is. When Dave moves, though, he does struggle to at least not be sprawled over the human anymore. He ends up on his stomach, legs sprawled out and looking utterly debauched. His nook aches in that well fucked but now empty way that just makes him want to arch up and find something to rub against. Massage until he's feeling warm and utterly boneless again. He can't help wriggling a little at the thought, or the little chirrup that escapes when he feels the faint tickle of Dave's come starting to dribble out of him. He blinks up at Dave with smug appreciation, eyes flickering half-closed as he voices the echoes of pleasure.

"Motherfucking marvelous. ALL FULL UP WITH MY COLOR, dripping it all out of you. ALL DOWN THOSE FINE LEGS. How does it feel, Dave?" He drawls Dave's name out, like he's savoring the sound.

He's right, of course - as soon as Dave manages to struggle to his feet, he's bleeding indigo everywhere, streams of it running down his pale legs to soak into the fabric of his pants. Fuck, all this shit needs to get washed or something. And what's worse is that Dave likes it - likes that sensation of being filled, of being fucked, being used as a troll's personal goddamn pail.

There's something so fucked up about all of this. And yet - he answers, and as he does, he knows that he'll be back for more.

"Well, to tell you the truth," he says, and that drawl's mostly back under control again, though some of his vowels still want to drag themselves out, "it's pretty all right."

Pants are tugged back over bony hips, shades are readjusted. "But it was also over pretty damn fast, don't you think? Lose control of yourself a little bit? I mean, fuck - I had you screaming on the floor last time, I thought you'd give at least as good as you got."

He's lying through his teeth, but fuck if he's going to admit that he'd never even considered that anything could feel as good as what they just did.

"Don't motherfucking lie, Dave. IT'S BEING ALL UNBECOMING." Gamzee stretches, and turns it into a move that would make a contortionist jealous as he oozes to his feet. The stretching helps remind his bones and muscles that they're not water, and he manages not to fall back over, though he does sway like he just got off of a storm-tossed ship. He emphasizes the sway though, as he stalks that tiny distance towards Dave, naked as the day he was hatched.

"You went off all like a motherfucking rocket, soon as my bulge was all up full in you. GRIPPING ONTO ME LIKE YOU WERE BEING ALL FALLING OFF THE MOTHERFUCKING EDGE IF YOU DIDN'T. Full up with the best motherfucking bruises from your hands." He presses his fingers over the marks on his hips, already starting to purple with angry indigo under gray skin.

He lowers his voice to the most intimate whisper he can manage. "You're already up and thinking it was the best fucking thing and aching all for me again."

That's one thing he has to admire about Gamzee - the way the lanky motherfucker moves. He's so used to Tav and his clanking metal legs, his ridiculously oversized horns, that watching Gamzee move like that, like water, sends a little shiver down Dave's spine.

Those indigo bruises forming on Gamzee's hips aren't helping matters, either.

Dave stands his ground, staring through his shades with his usual lack of expression, and shrugs. "I could go another round, maybe, sure. But from the way your legs don't want to hold you up, I'm guessing you might need a while, so maybe I'll take a raincheck on that offer."

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