paradiseblossoms | Text Test Post

A muffled, keening whine starts up from the back of Dave's throat as Gamzee's bulge writhes frantically inside him, and suddenly, his mouth is filled with the odd, alien taste of indigo blood as his blunt teeth finally manage to puncture shallow, square wounds into Gamzee's thick skin.

He breaks away, his lips smeared in indigo, his head dropping back with a solid thunk against the floor beneath him, baring his throat and putting Gamzee's scar on full display. But he can't help it - with every muscle in his body drawing tighter and tighter as the pleasure winds through him, it's getting harder to breathe. His panting seems loud enough to fill the room, and he's not even aware of the fact that every other breath he takes seems to be exhaled on Gamzee's name.

Gamzee cries out, high and warbling, as Dave's teeth finally break his skin. His hands clench and he rocks forward with all his weight, breaking rhythm. It's not quite enough for him to come yet, but he's hovering on the edge, so close he can almost taste it. He whines out Dave's name twice, but then Dave is baring his throat and he can't resist leaning down to bite the scare again.

If his mouth wasn't full he'd be swearing and crying out Dave's name over and over, but only muffled groans escape as his hips jerk forward with each sound of his name.

Fuck being the best. Fuck coming after Gamzee. Fuck everything except the feelings threatening to take him over, especially when Gamzee's skinny hips pound into his, and sharp fangs break the skin on his neck.

"Fuck, Gamzee," he moans, loud and unabashed and fucking delirious with pleasure. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Every curse is accompanied by a tightening of his legs and a desperate thrust of his hips, driving Gamzee into him, rubbing his dripping length against the troll's slightly raspy stomach. The cursing and the thrusts both come faster and faster, until Dave's back suddenly arches off the floor in a painful bow and every one of his muscles tightens, like his body is trying to pull Gamzee as close to him as physically possible, and then some.

"A-ah!"

"Dave-- Dave, fuck, Dave--" He's knocked loose from practically gnawing on Dave's neck and thrusts down to meet each of Dave's movements, breathless and so motherfucking close. He doesn't want it to ever end, but at the same time he needs to release the pressure building up deep within him.

When Dave arches Gamzee nearly screams, raw, and completely overwhelmed by how good Dave feels-looks-tastes-sounds. A thrust later and he's shaking as an alien shriek is torn from him. He's not the wave anymore, swept away just as helpless to the flow as Dave is. Time feels like it's slowed to a standstill and Gamzee deliriously wonders if Dave is doing it somehow before his arms give out. He's able to twist a little so he's not completely crushing Dave but otherwise doesn't stop the slump, too strung out on the pleasure to do anything but breathe and make small awed noises.

Fuck, that thought's never even occurred to Dave, and now he's going to have to experiment and see if he even has enough control in the middle of all that to slow time down - and avoid putting himself and whoever he happens to be fucking at the time back in the fucking 17th century or something like that.

Not right now, though. Right now, he has to focus on breathing, just getting his chest to go up and down - which is proving a little harder than it usually is, what with the way his muscles either seem to be made of water or quivering uncontrollably.

Everything is oversensitive and just taking a breath sends shudders through him. All Gamzee can smell is Dave and sex and motherfuck that's some powerful shit right there. He's too tired to really respond, but he knows for sure that the next time he gets a whiff of that he'll be aching to go pounce Dave and fuck him into the floor.

Gamzee just groans softly, amid all the sensations, so very aware of how he's still buried deep in Dave but not wanting to move because he thinks he might scream again at the intense sensation if he does. This is all way too fucking good to exist. But it does, and he feels suddenly so grateful to have it. It's a weird feeling amid all the black tangle of hate and lust.

Dave's starting to think he's going a little crazy, because there's something about Gamzee that's different from Tavros - not something as simple as build or personality, but deeper, like...like taste, or smell. Maybe he's been spending too much time around Terezi, but...yeah, Gamzee tastes and smells like indigo, whatever that means. It's sharper, more biting than Tavros' deep, rich chocolate brown, and fuck.

Dave echoes Gamzee's groan with one of his own, as the troll shifts slightly and a spark of pleasure/pain goes racing up Dave's spine. It's very possible that he blacks out for a moment, due to sheer sensation overload, his eyes rolling back behind his shades.

They're so intimately connected right now that he's hyper aware of Dave's every reaction. He'd feel so very smug if he wasn't too busy trembling and gasping with the surge of too-much-fuck-can't-take-any-more pleasure as Dave's body moves even that tiny bit.

He knows he should pull out, and ease the intensity for both of him, but part of him doesn't want to move and the rest of him doesn't know if he can right now. They're certainly both very, very well fucked right now, and that one does make him smirk a little, even if he can't put any of the bite he wants to in it.

Very, very carefully, with an arm that shakes so much he misses his target a few times, Dave reaches up to feel first the scar that Gamzee has reopened on his neck - that'll undoubtedly deepen the scar, raising even more bumpy tissue on his neck, but Dave can't quite bring himself to care - and then the dried blood caked onto his earlobe. He can't tell if the puncture wound is still there or if his God Tier powers have already healed it - and he also can't really decide which option sounds better.

"Gonna have to find something for me to wear in this, if you want it to stay open," he says, his voice harsh and rasping from all the screaming he's done in the past...however long it's been since they ended up here.

"Be thinking that's a motherfucking fine idea." When he can move. His voice sounds as languid and liquid as he feels, but the idea of putting something of his through that ear is enough motivation to get him to move.

Except when he does he's instantly shaking and making a high, reedy sound of overwhelmed pleasure open-mouthed against Dave's skin. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's so fucking oversensitive and he can't even think. It hurts, and Gamzee can't decide whether it's a good hurt, a bad hurt, or some unholy combination of both. He takes a moment to pant and rest and then he's up, moving unsteadily around the room. For all that he'd never acted or dressed like a highblood, he'd been encouraged to frequently, and he knows that somewhere around here is--ah, there it is. He'd said rings and bracelets got all fucking slimed from his pies, and necklaces strangled him, so the solution had been earrings, which he'd never worn, though he had appreciated the gift (and then promptly forgotten about it, which Equius had been disappointed about).

He tosses it at Dave. "Here motherfucker. Stick that all through that pretty little hole."

Gamzee pulls out of him, and for a moment, it's like Dave's been electrocuted - his jaw drops open, he makes a noise that's nearly a scream, and he's left shuddering on the floor, raising new bruises on his pale skin as his body bangs against the floor. There's a high ringing in his ears, and it fades only slowly, as does the gray veil that seems to have dropped over his eyes.

He makes a snatch for the earring as Gamzee tosses it, and only manages to barely snag it, fumbling it on the way down to his eyes. Turns out its not so bad - he was expecting something all girly and shit, but it's just a little silver hoop, trimmed in some kind of indigo...shell, or jewel, or something? He turns it in front of his shades for a moment, still sprawled out butt-naked on the floor, then shrugs and reaches up to try and work it into his ear.

"Why the fuck not, I guess."

He's trying not to look at Dave too long, because the darkly possessive want that curls in his gut each time he does just feels draining right now. As much as part of him wants to have all of Dave and make him scream and scream and scream in pleasure until they both drop dead from exhaustion, his body just can't keep up. That sound though, wrenches an answering groan from his throat and he has to sit the fuck back down after fetching the earring. His legs really aren't holding him up right now.

"Motherfuck, Dave. THAT'S BEING ALL A GOOD LOOK FOR YOU." He says it with a low, rumbling sound of pleasure, possessive and proud. Dave's wearing his motherfucking color in his ear and fuck anyone who doesn't notice and give Dave what he deserves.

Dave's too fucking tired to bother trying to hide the shiver that runs up his spine at the tone in Gamzee's voice, and that low, deep sound that rumbles up out of his chest - and even though Dave doesn't speak alien, he knows what that sound means.

"Yeah, you'd fucking think so, wouldn't you?" he retorts, but there's not much real heat behind it - it's more just an automatic response. He gets the earring clasped in, and then just...feels it for a moment. It's...strange. He can feel it, hanging there, and when he gives it a few experimental tugs, there's a slight, stinging pain that settles into soreness. He hisses slightly.

"Fuck, how do chicks do this?"

"Don't be all asking at this brother that. I DON'T MOTHERFUCKING KNOW." Gamzee doesn't bother moving from where he is. He needs a shower in the worst way, but a part of him is pleased by the sweat and blood and genetic material--he still can't quite get over the color of Dave's though; it's so weird. Exotic--as a sign of this relationship. The back and forth. The owning in every sense of the word and being owned in return. All of that lights up a fire in him and he carefully nurtures the warming flames.

So he just sits and watches, enjoying Dave's debauched look and the way he plays with the earring. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of that sight. It's strong and vulnerable at the same time, but only vulnerable because he motherfucking won this match. Dave might win the next, but that's okay. They wouldn't be good kismesis if one of them won all the time.

If shit keeps up like this, Dave might have to take up smoking - he thinks maybe there would be something grounding about that, about the feeling of smoke filling his lungs, of the deep breaths he's taking to try and combat the tight feeling in his chest.

He yawns, huge and jaw-cracking, and finally leaves the earring alone, figuring he'll get used to it eventually. He glances sideways at Gamzee, not bothering to turn his head, but just sliding his eyes over, and there might be just the slightest hint of red peeking out from the sides of his shades.

Then, with a series of resounding cracks, he sits up and begins to stretch himself out, twisting and turning and arching into all kinds of impossible-looking positions, making soft little noises that are half pleasure and half pain.

Gamzee makes a sound that's more of an exhale obstructed by a full body shudder. That hint of red is intriguing and he vows to get a good look at Dave's eyes the next time. Everything about the human catches and holds his attention right now. He watches in appreciation with all his attention on the stretching.

But once Dave's finished, he stretches himself, upping the ante to near contortionist proportions. It's a little bit of a challenge, and also a little bit of showing off, but the whole time he's rumbling his approval at Dave and making similar noises of pleasure-pain. He's so marvelously sore, and he'll carry those painful reminders until the next time they come together in an epic clash.

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