For Laylah/cyphercat's birthday. <3

Breaking to Saddle

The first thing Karkat thinks after the body has rolled off the edge of the dinner table and landed with a jarring thud on his boots is oh well, Equius will be happy; the second is Wonder if I should let him, don't know where this asshole has been.

He nudges the corpse off him with a steel-toed boot tip as his eyes wander carelessly onto the other officers sitting at the high table. He knows his irises are too-bright and eerie and wrong; he knows how to use them by now. When the last Major has given up on the thought of using the first assassination attempt as a distraction for the second and sunk back down in her chair, he picks up his spoon and goes back to eating his soup.

His white glove is speckled with dark blue.

At least there isn't any in his soup; he'd probably make himself eat it anyway to look badass, but that'd be more gross than anything. The thought and the adrenaline conspire together to pull his lips up into a faint smile, which he doesn't notice until another officer has asked to be excused.

That old bulgegrinder Admiral Gougesaw has apparently gotten over his suspicious glaring, and when he snaps for someone to take away the corpse and bring Karkat a replacement table knife he says it with ghoulish enjoyment. Karkat catches himself humming under his breath.

Lieutenant Colonel Vantas. Yep.


He stalks back into his block, or maybe even bounces; when he sees Equius he pauses in the door, briefly. He forces himself to take the last step in and let the door slide closed. Two thoughts war in the back of his mind -- he expected him to chicken out; it's uncomfortable and weird to have another troll, not his quadrant, inside his space when he's not there.

The table is set, with highblood-perfect placement of a dozen eating utensils he never bothers with. Paper-sliced raw hoofbeast with grub shavings, in artistic hemowheel patterns, and assorted shellbeasts in fermented fruit sauce share the table with tuber paste, even a grubburger -- he has a choice of haute cuisine delicacies he deserves and hearty lowblood shit he actually eats.

Equius kneels beside the table, unmoving, hands joined behind his back, chin up, eyes lowered. He's only in his underwear.

Karkat takes his time; this trick he has learned from several drill sergeants and then from being a drill sergeant, and learned well. When you're not sure what the fuck to do with a subordinate, take your time thinking it out. There is almost no way they will notice you're completely lost at sea: they'll be too busy freaking out. It's a technique he could have used more of when he was a kid.

He really has no idea what to do with the guy.

Equius is nice to look at -- if mildly terrifying. There isn't a single scar on him, which is unnerving as fuck, and those muscles belong on better-than-trollish statuary, not on actual living assholes. What does a guy like that see in a guy like him? some part of Karkat wonders.

Someone who can wreck his shit, the part of Karkat that planted a food knife up someone's under-chin and into their thinksponge not a hour ago replies.

His first instinct is to compliment him on the choice of food, but Equius isn't here to be complimented. Karkat moves closer, slowly, making sure to let his heels hit the floor straight on.

Equius shudders, and he hasn't even touched him, hasn't even said anything.

Yeah, okay, he can do this.

"What are you still wearing, Zahhak," he says, quiet as possible without turning it into a whisper.

"My -- underwear? Sir?"

Sir. Fuck, he likes that. "Are you." He can't remember if he told Equius to be naked or not. Bit hard to enforce fairly if he didn't. "I'll give you a pass this time. Next time I don't care if your bulge freezes and breaks off."

There's little risk of that. Karkat keeps his quarters warm enough that Gamzee always has to strip down to his undershirt if he stays long. Equius would be fine.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I'll do better next time."

Hm. Karkat considers him -- chin up, eyes down. Proud, even now. And too smooth, too controlled, almost urbane; is Karkat being too nice? What does Equius expect exactly? Crap, a slap to the face would get his attention but they didn't even talk about whether he wanted to be hit. Karkat has read enough romance novels by now to have an okayish idea of how these things go. Mostly an idea of how much he still doesn't know.

Also Equius is so ludicrously STRONG, he might not even feel it. No, okay, shows of strength are useless, it's not a terrain on which Karkat can win.

His glove has dried hard and scratchy against his skin. It itches.

"Look at me," he orders. "Properly," he says, harsher, when Equius's eyes open slow and too distant.

He can tell when the other man notices, because his next breath is deeper, more shaky.

"Told them what would happen," Karkat says, bitingly cheerful, "but they insisted anyway."

"Oh," says Equius very quietly.

His eyes are glued to the splashes of cobalt on Karkat's boots, the splatters over his knee, his (brand new, previously clean) jacket (fuck that dead asshole, Karkat would kill him again just for doing that to his new uniform.)

"And now we're wasting time here while my boots stain because you're still wearing that thing. What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation to follow my orders?"

Oh thank fuck, Equius finally looks a little alarmed. "--Ah -- I'm sorry--"

Karkat hisses a warning. "Stand. Hands against the wall."

He does, clumsy from kneeling so long, from confusion. Karkat tries not to feel a bit silly. If he doesn't keep in control then it's going to peter out and be ridiculous and they'll never be able to look at each other in the face again and --

"Hahaha! A table knife. You'll do, Vantas, you'll do."

Yeah, he fucking will. He sets his claws in the waistband of Equius's boxers, shreds right through. The rest of the cloth tears easily.

There is wet blue spotting the seat when it flutters to the ground. Karkat stares at it -- oh -- and then stares back up, and he could laugh at how flustered that gigantic asshole looks. It's like he's the shy debutante poured into the tenebrous rogue's body.

"It's nice to see you're still enjoying yourself, even while being so useless." He throws the rest of the cloth on the floor.


"If it's another apology, save it. It's only your underwear this time, Zahhak. Next time I'm sending you back out naked."

... Wow, was that a shudder. The way his stomach muscles flexed... Huh.

He fists a hand in that long, sleek hair, leans in; he has to yank pretty hard before Equius tilts his head back far enough for Karkat to reach his ear. (Damn, he'll have to recalibrate, he was afraid of tearing it out but it makes sense that the guy's follicles would be as ridiculously overpowered as the rest of him.)

"The second you step walkfrond in here this is the first fucking thing you do. You strip, all the way down. You've done nothing to deserve clothes. And if you make that mistake again I will parade you through the whole ship covered in my bright mutant spunk, are we fucking clear."

It's -- it doesn't even ping him much, that idea, it's more of an idle threat, he'd be way too embarrassed if anyone learned anything so private about his personal life, but the way Equius groans, the way he has to close his eyes just a moment...

That gets to him. Fuck. The guy is letting Karkat plant ideas into his head and he just gets off on them and asks for more. Karkat makes sure to control his breathing.

He wonders if he could learn his kinks well enough that he could make him jizz himself just by talking, hands-free.

"Yes, Sir. I will endeavor to -- I'll remember."

Karkat gives his hair another tug, but he corrected himself, so he lets it go. "See that you do."

Okay. Now...

Next step. Wow. Yeah, okay. He can do it. He needs to stop hesitating.

"Heel," he orders, and turns away, releasing his mane. He was thinking of dragging him around by the hair -- making him go on hands and knees? But he doesn't know what Equius wants, what will do anything for him, and it -- argh, hair pulling, yes, but that seems more like punishment. (Sexy punishment. Why does he have such nice hair.) Right now Karkat is in control and he's expecting Equius to fall into step while he goes to the ablution block because it's the way things are, and... hm.

"Hands linked behind your back, when they're not busy," he orders calmly, and pauses in the doorway to rake his body with his eyes, cold and stern. (The tip of a dark blue bulge peeks out of Equius's ridiculously full sheath; even as his eyes land on it, something squirms inside, the entrance clenches convulsively to keep his bulge trapped in.) "You don't hide any part of yourself from me."

He walks in before Equius can apologize again. He's sure it's reflex, but it's annoying. He hopes he can train him out of it.

... Wow, um, if this thing lasts, he actually could.

He forgot to take off his cap outside the ablution block. Oh, whatever. He dislodges it from between his horns now, drops it on the counter. There isn't a lot of free space in here, but at least there's a respectable-sized tub, which Majors don't get to have. Anyway it's sized with an eye toward bluebloods, since even now they still end up in a lot of the higher-ranked positions, so it'll do.

The tub is filled with warm water and some kind of fragrance Karkat is pretty sure he does not own. Huh.

Okay, his jacket is dirty anyway. "Unbutton me," he says, chin up. If he breaks a few, that'll be another reason to punish him.

He watches Equius's face as he leans over him -- not looms, for once it doesn't feel like looming -- and concentrates on his small, difficult buttons. His fingers are shaking.

It's oddly intimate, being undressed so cautiously, so respectfully. Karkat stays silent, watches his face even as Equius watches his own hands, scared of messing up. He looks ... anxious, flustered. His pupils have gone wide. Is it the good kind of nervousness or the bad one?

Equius's bulge has stilled in its sheath, even though the tip still peeks out, a gleaming drop caught at the opening.

He lets the man guide the jacket off his shoulders, lets it slide down past his hands, nods toward the laundry basket in silence. Equius folds it quickly before he drops it there, possibly respect for the uniform that even Karkat doesn't have, possibly sheer personal habit, and either way it's endearing in a way Karkat didn't expect. He forces down a smile.

He unbuttons his shirt himself; Equius looks disappointed.

"On your knees."

He goes, willing enough, but there are questions in his eyes, not the nervous acquiescence of the beginning but something that might become doubt. Can't happen.

Should have let him at the shirt, shit. Guaranteed he'd have torn off a button, and then Karkat could have punished him. He has no idea what to punish him with though.

"My boy, those who disobey? Usually know the price better than you do."

Sarge Ripspine was right too; her advice has never failed him yet.

"What do you think should be done," Karkat asks idly, "with a lazy, reluctant asshole who tries to hide himself, and thinks mumbling out a sorry means he doesn't have to actually obey?"

Equius swallows, nervous. Karkat doesn't let him speak yet; he just narrows his eyes and adds; "Letting him touch my skin sure as fuck isn't part of it."

He props his ass on the little cupboard stuck under the sink, crosses his feet at the ankle, deliberately bringing his attention back to these black, shiny boots, the splatter on them almost Equius's color.

He can see Equius's thinksponge stutter as he stares down at them.

"You might --" he hesitates; Karkat taps his foot on the tiles impatiently. "That is, you could take away something... something he was looking forward to." A pause; he bites his lip, conflicted. "If he was really bad."

"Hm." Well good, he doesn't know if the dickwad he killed has space herpes or genital mold or anything like that anyway. "Get a sponge."

He obeys, at least, without question, and with the kind of speed that shows Karkat he took the time to familiarize himself with Karkat's bathroom. This is both pleasantly and unpleasantly intimate. It isn't like Karkat is hiding anything shameful in his cupboards, but... "Did you poke around in the cabinet over the sink?" he asks, making sure to sound idle, uncaring.

"Wh -- no, Sir, I would never." He looks all fussily offended, it's surprisingly hilarious.

"Oh, so you didn't make sure you could locate the lube?" Karkat shoots back before he can think twice, more like snarking at a friend than... whoever Equius is to him right now.

Equius goes blue in the face and briefly looks away, then forces himself to stare back at Karkat; his forehead is going damp. "I brought my own."

Karkat can't help it, he lets out a short bark of laughter. "Alright, that's good. I like you being well-prepared."

Equius flushes some more, hangs his head so his eyes can't be seen, hidden by a veil of long hair. He doesn't squirm, but almost. "Thank you, Sir."

Karkat spreads his legs, plants his heels on the tiles -- and when Equius's eyes jump not to his boots but to the crotch of his white dress pants something hot coils inside his belly. He snaps his fingers, points to a spot between his feet; it only takes a second for Equius to get it and shuffle closer and kneel here.

He looks up; Karkat looks down. It's an oddly charged moment. They're not even touching, for all that Karkat's feet are only an inch away from Equius's knees.

He's naked on the floor for Karkat. Karkat is still more than half-dressed -- shit, he should have kept the jacket after all, oh great Lords of the Abyss, why is this hot. He should be dressed from toes to fingertips to throat with only his bulge out, maybe, toward the end, as Equius bares himself entirely for him. Shit yes, yes, he needs this to happen someday.

All that strength and obstinate pride at his feet of its own volition. Fuck. Yes.

"Wash my boots," he says, and taps the outside of Equius's thigh with his hard-shelled toes.

Equius looks at him, looks at the sponge in his hand, looks crushed for a moment; he opens his mouth -- to protest? -- and Karkat leans forward, hands pressed back on the cupboard, smiling that eager, hungry grin that was the last straw his would-be assassin needed before attacking. Yeah, go on, try me, see what that gets you. "Something to say, Zahhak?"

Equius licks his lips, bows his head, proving he's less stupid than that dead jackass -- or possibly that he knows Karkat well enough not to underestimate him anymore. It's such a rush to prove himself to someone who saw him six sweeps old and flailing, screaming ineffectually until he was ridiculously hoarse because he didn't know how to make people listen.

"No, Sir. Nothing."

Karkat swings a foot up and into his lap, thick sole digging into his thighs as it nests in the valley between them. Equius shudders all over; Karkat can see the way his sheath opening clenches and still doesn't stop the long, sinuous push of a finger's length of his bulge, wet and feverishly searching against that absurdly flat belly.

He's extremely delicate when he cups Karkat's ankle in his hand and starts patting away at the dried-out splatters, detail-oriented to a ridiculous degree, if Karkat lets him he will dab preciously at the whole thing inch by inch, and...

... and maybe it feels nice, anyway? Not physically, he barely notices through the leather and the metal guards underneath, but... inside. It feels good to have someone expend so much dedicated care on him, like maybe he's worth someone taking the time for it. Maybe he can let himself have this. Maybe he wants to.

When Equius is done with the first boot, Karkat rubs it a bit on his lap, back and forth, even though it knows it probably chafes -- not close enough to his bulge to do anything, but in a way that makes it seem he was almost going to go there -- before he switches it for his other boot. This one isn't as dirty, but there's still dust on it. He watches Equius dab at the toes, and then he leans forward and rests his hand on his long smooth hair, lightly. Equius stops moving entirely, stops breathing.

Karkat tugs the splattered glove off with his teeth and slips his fingers in his hair. He gives his skull a light scratch, and goes "I didn't tell you to stop," mild and almost nice; he doesn't want to tug right now, he wants to pet, he wants to run that mane through his fingers and watch it flow.

Equius bows his head in agreement and returns to his task. Karkat keeps playing with his hair, combing in close to his skull and pulling his hair away, watching the strands slide free. His fingers edge close to the root of his horn -- the unbroken one; he doesn't dare touch the other one even despite how long it must be since it was mutilated -- scratch lightly at his scalp, move away just before the swell of skin over the horn's root. He likes how Equius's breath deepens ever so slightly every time it happens.

When it's done they both sit in silence for another heartbeat, for two, and then Karkat says, "Take it off," and Equius does, handling him the way he handles his most perfect mechanical creations, the way he handles Nepeta; he undoes the latches with a series of little snaps, loosens all the parts equally the way Karkat himself never bothers with before he takes it by the heel and starts tugging.

Karkat makes damn sure to hold onto the cupboard. He didn't need to; Equius' other hand comes to cup the back of his knee to brace him, and then he tugs his leg free.

He places the boot to the side; Karkat offers his other booted foot.

The bare one lands on a rock-solid thigh, turns so he can fit the arch of his foot to the curve of his muscles. Equius's fingers spasm open, dropping Karkat's booted foot heel-first on the floor.

He's pretty sure if Equius hadn't released him instantly he would have crushed through Karkat's foot, battle footwear and all. Karkat arches a pointed, disapproving eyebrow.

"What's this? You can't even handle a simple task without getting distracted? What kind of klutz are you?"

Equius flinches, but his eyes go a little narrow as well; it's a mulish look, refusal. Karkat's brow furrows faintly.

"You were doing so well with the washing too."

... And relaxing. Okay, hm. Maybe he doesn't like having his competence put into doubt, for unsexy values of dislike. They'll discuss this later. For now there's more than enough to lean on.

"My apologies, Sir. I find your touch... distracting."

... Yeah okay, it's a base appeal to his ego, but it works. Only it's also a pretty transparent distraction. Karkat yanks on his hair. "Don't make me take the touching away, too. If I have to have you pail yourself stupid with a broom handle, you'll be keeping it up your nook until I feel like bothering to take it out."

Equius gasps and looks up, mildly scandalized. "And how long might that be?"

"Depends when I next feel like having you over again," Karkat asks with a friendly (toothy) smile.

"That is a long time." He looks vaguely forbidding now, starting to scowl.

"Afraid you couldn't do your job? We'd just have to cut it to a shorter length. You could spend all night sitting on it in your workshop then."

It doesn't matter what Equius's expression says; his bulge lashes. A droplet of saturated blue lands on the top of Karkat's foot. They both stare at it for a second.

Equius has stopped breathing. Karkat can't stifle the trill rising from his throat, hunting and aroused both, can't help the way his pupils have gone huge (he knows they have; everything looks brighter, comes in sharper detail.)

"Oh," he growls, so quietly it sounds like a purr. "Will you look at that."

It looks so intense a blue on his colorless skin.

"Did your gross bulge just do that, Zahhak? Or did I imagine it?"

He presses his bare foot between Equius's thighs -- fuck it's difficult to push between them -- and leaves it here for a second, trapped. They both watch the way the drop of blue almost touches, almost smears on Equius's skin.

And then he nudges the lips of his nook with his big toe.

It's a stunt that could well get him a broken ankle, but his boots are reinforced and would steady his wound anyway so who the fuck cares, he can't let it pass him by. Equius jumps, trembles, he looks up at Karkat and his eyes are wide, yellow showing all the way around.

"Ah -- Sir--"

"Yes?" Karkat asks, and teases his way between drenched lips, so slick he almost doesn't feel the skin underneath.

(It's such a good thing that he trims his toe claws super closely.)

"Speak up, you disgusting piece of trash, I want to hear your words."

"I -- I'm sorry, I forgot -- forgot what I wanted to -- ah, ah."

"You forgot to finish your job, is what you forgot," Karkat says, and kicks the outside of his thigh with his still-booted heel -- lightly, so he'll notice, shocking more than painful. "Take this off. You don't deserve to see me even having them on -- look at that, can't even contain yourself, are you trying to fuck yourself on my toe?"

Equius forces his hips to still. His shoulders are trembling when he bows over Karkat's boot. (Karkat's bare foot gets kind of squeezed even deeper in; it makes fluid gush between his toes, on the balls of his foot.) "My apologies, Sir, I am -- heinous, despicable--"

"Can't even do the easiest fucking job I ever entrusted to a repugnant bag of fuckslime like you; what the hell are you good for? Apart from staining my floors and humping me like a beast in heat? Is that what you are, Zahhak, is that what you're trying to hide with your electronics and your nose in the air? You're a horny beast in heat, that's all you are, going around daring someone to fuck you sloppy."

Oh hey. He's... breathing a bit fast. He tries to slow down. Where the hell did that even come from? Is it even anything that gets Equius off, anyway...?

He knows how to lead back to known territory, anyway.

He leans in, fits his bare hand around his intact horn, just barely over the darkest red part where Equius would have really felt it. "Such an uncouth wild thing. I'll have to break you to the saddle, I see," he purrs in his ear.

There's a noise like crockery breaking; it takes him a couple of seconds to realize that Equius just dug his toes so hard into the floor the tiles cracked. Holy shit. Holy shit.

His foot is still unbroken. He feels so cared for it's ridiculous.

Even when Equius's bulge accidentally lashes a long wet stripe across his ankle.

Karkat considers it for a second, and shoves his foot against Equius's nook again, rubbing the side of his toe and foot along the engorged slit. His skin will be stained blue at this rate, he feels so soaked in. Equius is frozen on the spot, breathing deep whenever he manages to remember he should. Karkat finds it oddly fun to time his movements with Equius's chest, make him gasp, breathless.

"I'm still waiting on my other boot."

Equius finally manages the latches, finally pulls Karkat's other foot free; his big rough hands shake like leaves in a hurricane. This one doesn't get put down with military precision next to its brethren, as Karkat can see Equius was trying for; his hand spasms at the wrong time and sends them both toppling over. Karkat tssks pointedly.

"Look at that, you're even staining my pants." He's not even lying; the cuff is turning blue. "Breaking my ablution block, fucking up my Empress-damned dress pants, and you can't even be clean and orderly, what the hell is that, why are my effects on the floor like some grub just threw them over in a fit? Does that seem befitting a Colonel of Her Glorious Fuckshitting Fleet?"

His big toe is halfway up Equius's nook by now, and it's getting warmer in here, and it's tight like a dream. Karkat's not giving him any useable depth, just a horrid tease and some rough stretching; he's got calluses on his feet, and Equius didn't get several inches of tapered length to slowly ease him into opening that wide.

"I bet if I let you, you'd just rut on my foot until you came all over yourself. Wouldn't you?"

He stills, until Equius remembers himself, remembers he's supposed to answer. His face is gloriously flushed, his eyes are two black pools amongst amber, he pants. There's hair glued to his forehead with his sweat; it's oddly gorgeous.

"I -- yes, I'm sorry, I'm -- so bad, please don't -- don't let me, please."

It's so sincere, so anguished Karkat's chest does a funny little squeeze-freeze-thump thing.

He runs his hand down the shaft of Equius's horn, rubs his thumb gently over the base, pulling a soft chirp out of him. "I won't," he promises quietly.

He pulls his foot free. Equius looks wrecked, almost clenches to hold him back and then forces himself to spread his knees. It bares his slit; his inner thighs are coated in glistening blue.

"I need to teach you patience and selflessness, I see," Karkat says, and somehow he doesn't even laugh at how ridiculous it is. "So this is what's going to happen."

His gloved hand finds his zipper. He loves how dark eyes follow it hungrily, fascinated. He doesn't know if it shows, that he's probably soaking through his pants; he tilts his hips forward some in his seat; next time prepare thicker underwear, Equius can't know how insanely hot he thinks it is.

"Open your mouth."

He does, instant and unquestioning. He looks silly -- he should look silly, mouth wide open around nothing, but it's open on nothing yet and that makes all the difference.

"Hands joined behind your back. Spread your knees. Wider. Good."

Fuck. The picture of debauchery, Karkat thinks, and then says it, because he deserves to hear this. "The very fucking picture of debauchery. Leaking, sweaty, your holes wide open, and your bulge all over the damn place. Fuck, Zahhak."

... Not debauchery, actually, or not only. Need. That's what's all over him, in every line of his body. He needs Karkat, in any way Karkat wants it, whatever part of him he wants to give.

"You're going to service me. Show that you can think of someone else's pleasure but yours."

Equius twitches, even though he had to have known that was where Karkat was going. Oral sex... no, not for a proper blueblood like Equius Zahhak. To risk putting saliva in the slurry? Unthinkable.

Karkat stands. His legs are a little wobbly. He tugs Equius closer by the horn, tilts his head up forcefully, smiles that sweet, fire-eyed smile. "I'm going to fuck your mouth, and you're going to take it."


"You're going to swallow it, aren't you? Every drop."

His eyes roll in his head a bit; Karkat spends a few seconds rubbing his thumb against the root of his horn, soothing.

"Shh, I know you can do it, if you really try. But you have to give it your all, okay?"

Equius gives a tiny nod.

"Don't disappoint me. If you spill any..."

Equius bites the corner of his lip, immediately flinches and opens it again, cringing; he forgot himself. Karkat decides to be benevolent and keep it for later ammunition.

"Well. We'll see when that happens. It can be a surprise." (Really Karkat has no idea. He'll figure it out on the fly.)

His bulge doesn't even wait for his hand before it coils and shoves free of his underwear. He takes himself in hand anyway, gives himself a couple of long, rough pulls, and then he leans his hips in and feeds Equius his bulge.

It's wet and warm in his mouth and his tongue is soft; Karkat spends a minute forcing the tip of his bulge to coil and tickle at that tongue, under it. He lets Equius have a grunt when the man presses the flat of his tongue to the underside of his bulge, caresses it back.

It's not tight enough, though. Soon enough he's pushing his hips closer and his bulge slithers deeper in, to the back of his throat and beyond. Oh yes.

Fuck, he forgot something. "When you need to breathe -- uh. Slap the floor."

He closes his eyes and lets the last inches of his bulge press down Equius's throat. They try to snake and twist down there but it's narrower than a nook, more rigid too, and then Equius swallows convulsively around him and he groans.

Fuck, it feels good, it feels so good. But he needs to, shit, what was it.

Oh. Yeah. Keep talking. "Yeah. Good. Good hole -- nice, useful. I should stuff it every time oh fff, every time classist bullshit spouts out, train you out of it entirely. Such a better use -- don't agree?"

Equius groans around him, makes shuddery vibrations resonate all the way through Karkat's bulge. He thrusts, mashes himself against his face; Equius slaps the floor.

Karkat holds him close another second before pulling him off his bulge by the hair, and it's such a gorgeous spectacle to see its whole length spill out of those thin lips, disgustingly wet with ropes of red material and translucent blue saliva. Equius is panting, eyes rolled up to stare at him, dazed. Karkat pats his face and pulls him back in, before he's gotten his breath entirely back.

Karkat does it several times; the press of tight lips smoothing their way up his bulge is so, so good, almost as good as Equius's throat and the way he swallows around him.

One time when he pulls out he glances down at Equius's bulge and it's been squirming all the way around, searching feverishly between his own thighs, and Karkat stares unmoving until the first two inches of it have disappeared between shaking thighs to thrust himself all the way back in.

He comes down Equius's throat in long, wrecking pulses, nook clenching on nothing and bulge trying to coil, pressing against the constricting muscles that try to close Equius' throat around it. He comes and comes and almost misses the noise, the slap, once and then twice, urgent; he pulls himself out in a startled, orgasm-wrecked spasm and a last pulse of genetic material splatters translucent red across Equius Zahhak's haughty face.

... Fuck. That was awesome.

He feels behind him for the cupboard, sits back gingerly (his nook squelches, urgh.) He looks at the tableau before him -- Equius still on his knees, coughing and wheezing, tears in his eyes, saliva and spunk dripping from his mouth, hair a mess -- did Karkat pull that much? -- and that bulge he gropes at awkwardly to try to stop it moving deeper into himself.

"Hands off," Karkat grunts.

Equius twitches, looks up like he can't possibly have heard right; Karkat narrows his eyes and he puts both hands back behind his back, even as he tries to smother his coughing.

"Think I kind of want you to pail yourself," Karkat muses. "Fill you up with your own blue, make you carry it around a while, maybe, I wonder what it'd do. I know, bulges aren't built to be able to get seedflap-deep inside your own nook, but yours looks big enough... Or maybe if I had you put your ass in the air as you filled yourself, gravity would do the rest."

"Sir," Equius whispers, like Karkat is torturing him. "Please, may I beg for -- for a favor, please--"

Karkat arches an eyebrow, even as he tucks his spent bulge back in his underwear; it'll manage the rest. "Hm. Well, you did manage to be patient so far. That wasn't very long but I guess we have to start small. What do you want?"

"I -- may I come, please, Sir, may I be allowed to come--"

Karkat considers it, nodding slowly. He's already decided, really. "On your back."

Equius twists to the side to free his legs and then manages to wedge himself and his horns on the small available floor space. This means his feet are on both sides of Karkat's and his knees are bent and up. It's really not a bad thing.

He toes at Equius's ass, considers his splattered foot, whether he could fuck him to orgasm that way. Hm. Yeah, okay.

Not yet, though.

"Hold your knees up out of the way," he orders quietly. "Show me your nook. I'm not sure the greedy thing really needs it that much, does it?"

Choking on a sob, Equius grabs his legs under the knees and pulls them to his chest, hips tilted up. His nook lips are flushed, clenching and releasing on the thin end of his own bulge; Karkat watches it wriggle and try to get itself deeper in for a minute before he magnanimously lifts a foot to press the flat of it right across his nook, trapping his bulge there.

It doesn't take much grinding before a flood of sudden, thick blue splashes out of his nook, puddles under him. What Karkat is not trapping of his bulge lashes and squirms and pulses; it's gorgeous.

"I guess it did," he concludes, once Equius has let his head thump back on the floor and his legs relax. His knees fall outwards a little, and when Karkat takes off his foot even more blue comes out. "Hm. Your flap didn't want it though, did it."

"My apologies, Sir," Equius rasps. Karkat catches himself chuckling.

"No, I'm not about to blame you for biology. Maybe if I fucked you first..."


Karkat stands, a little floaty, a little at a loss. Is he supposed to punish Equius for coming without orders, maybe? Find something else to...? No, he's too tired, the evening was exhausting and the last dregs of his adrenaline have fled out through his bulge and down into Equius's stomach.

Something in his chest flutters again at the thought that he did swallow everything, or almost.

"... And my foot is still dirty. Damn."

Equius hauls himself up in something of a sitting position, flips around, and then, oh, he's on his elbows, ridiculously solid body twisted uncomfortably on the floor so he can lean down and kiss the top of Karkat's foot.

Karkat lets him have it, the way he planned to from the start, the way he should have made him do earlier, sooner, before they both peaked and crashed and all the electricity in the air was gone.

Maybe it's not all gone, he feels, when a flat, soft tongue licks gently at his ankle.

He sits and breathes and he allows Equius to kiss and reverently lick the last of the splatters and stains away, soft and gentle and warm, even as he laps between his toes, kisses his way down his arch.

When he's done he looks up, still cradling Karkat's foot in both hands, and Karkat looks back and takes off his other glove and cups his face with both hands too.

"Get in the tub, you humongous disaster," Karkat says, and barely recognizes his own voice.

The water overflows when Karkat joins Equius in once naked, drenches the clothes he dropped carelessly on the floor; he doesn't care, he wedges himself in the gap between the side of the tub and Equius's muscle-bound flank, rests his head on his shoulder. He's not even sure if he's supposed to; this is strange, he feels lost all over again. None of the books talked about that.

Equius still trembles under him from time to time, long shudders crossing the whole of him. Karkat takes a soft sponge and pours soap on his chest and starts washing him. (It feels almost pale. Only they've just fucked, and he thinks he'll want to do it again.)

"Did," Equius tries to say, and "Was," and Karkat snorts quietly and leans in to nip his chin.

"Yeah, it was good for me."

Equius manages an approximation of his haughty, disapproving look, though it'd help more if he could keep it up without looking away guiltily at the end, like he thinks he's being bratty. "I wanted to ask if my performance was... satisfactory."

Karkat can't help but laugh.

"Are you fishing for compliments?" he asks, and as Equius flinches a little he burrows against his chest, nuzzles under his chin. "It was fucking awesome. Now can we just... cuddle or some shit, it's not an order, I mean, if this isn't a cuddling relationship it's fine but I--"

Okay, no, he's in control here, he can't -- it's just, Equius is so fucked up, really, such a mess of contrasting instincts and needs, and it almost seems as if he wouldn't mind if Karkat coddles and nags the hell out of him. And if this was just random no strings-attached play, well, that's also okay, totally fine, it was fun and all, only this is possibly the reddest thing he has ever done for anyone, verbal humiliation and all. Karkat doesn't think he knows how to be handed such absolute trust and then to not give anything in return.

Eyelids at half-mast, Equius chuckles quietly. It moves Karkat along like he's not even here. "I would be extremely gratified," he says, and it rumbles in his chest where Karkat can feel the sounds before they become words, "if this were to become a cuddling relationship."

Well, shit.

Looks like he landed himself a matesprit.

When Equius starts to purr to match his own it makes the soap bubbles explode.