theunvanquishedzims asked: Karkat <3< Kankri, the first time they were both totally quiet in each other's presence.

At The Window

"That's strange, really, Kankri is usually quite punctual."

The voice is coming in through the magnolia bush next to the front door, a bit muffled. The window is wide open to let in fresh air and long sheer drapes dangle in the breeze. It's spring.

One of the drapes catches on Karkat's bare shoulder, tickles his skin, shivery. The air is a little cool.

He has his other arm pressed to the wall and that shoulder has a leg thrown over it. His nose presses almost painfully against a soft belly.

Kankri's bulge is thick enough that his jaw aches, and its furious flicks and attempt at coiling in on itself don't help. He swallows around it and does his best to choke quietly.

"...understand something unexpected might have happened, but in most circumstances he would still be able to find a minute to text us a warning! This is surprisingly inconsiderate."

He flicks a glance up the body under him, wedged on its back against the wall, just under the open window. He wants to arch an eyebrow, make a face that says, your friends are assholes behind your back, wow, you guys really did find each other. Kankri's arm is still thrown across his eyes, his face turned, tucked defensively into the crook of his own elbow. His mouth opens onto a silent cry.

Outside they're talking in measured, polite voices. Karkat lets it all wash over him and doesn't try to understand, it's all going to be bullshit anyway. He pulls up, sucks at the whole length of Kankri's bulge on its way out of his mouth, goes hah through his nose, just a breath, not a sound, when Kankri's heel kicks blindly against his back.

The dull thud has them both freezing, but no one outside seems to have heard. Maybe they thought it was the cat knocking over a book.

Kankri lifts his head long enough to stare at him with one unhidden eye. His pomaded hair is a royal mess, hangs over his face in tufts and Karkat didn't know how warm satisfaction would feel at seeing him with the same hair Karkat sees in the mirror every evening.

Kankri grimaces down at him, glares, trying to hint without words. Karkat nods -- yeah, I understand you -- and pinches the tip of his bulge between two cruel fingertips, muffles a snicker against his unblemished thigh when Kankri arches off the floor in a violent shudder, and leaves sucking kisses all the way down his length.

He's sure when Kankri tries to knee him with the leg Karkat is pinning down under him it's entirely unplanned. The guy wouldn't know how to kick if a pack of wild asses descended from the mountains to teach him the ways of his people. He's also sure it wasn't a mere reflex, a muscle spasm, even though it's the lie Kankri will tell him afterwards, of course I would in no case resort to physical violence, Karkat, violence is the last refuge of the mentally unprivileged.

He rewards him by taking him in his mouth again, by opening his throat and letting his bulge plunge there like it thinks if it burrows deep enough it'll find Karkat's seedflap.

He loves and hates the way his jaw cracks trying to avoid biting down, the weight of it on his tongue, how it pushes out against his cheeks until he resembles some kind of ridiculous nut creature. He loves and hates the saliva he can't swallow in time, the long seconds where he can't breathe because Kankri is there inside him, invading him.

Two of his fingers find Kankri's nook and plunge in, fast, without prep; he doesn't stop until he's all the way in there. Kankri kicks him again, with both legs. He's stopped breathing, both his hands are on his mouth and the idiot is refusing to breathe again and turning funny colors. Karkat fucks him hard with his fingers for a beat, three, six, his throat full of bulge.

Tiny, tiny whimper. He slows down, merciful. (He just wants to drag it on.)

"... 'll call him," someone says, and Karkat's spine stiffens, Kankri's hand slaps out onto his abandoned pants. The phone shudders half a second before being silenced.

They stare at each other, utterly unmoving.

"Now I'm getting the voicemail."

"So he did have access to his cell phone long enough to turn it off then. Hmph."

Kankri glares up at the window. Karkat's shoulders jump with smothered laughter. Disheveled and naked on his own perfectly waxed wooden floor and he still makes these haughty faces. What an asshole.

Kankri transfers his glare to Karkat, though he blushes hot and his eyes try to skitter away when they land on the bulge tip Karkat is still idly sucking on.

Kankri mouths something to him. Karkat blinks slowly and crooks his fingers inside his (hot tight clinging) nook.

Then he starts fucking him with his fingers again, fast and deep and not especially gently. Kankri's hand flies blindly, slaps his horn. Karkat draws in a hissing breath.

"... going to stand here so the smoke won't inconvenience you," some asshole outside is saying, her voice sounding clearer and clearer.

Kankri's eyes go wide in offense (someone smoking, on his lawnring, without an ashtray?), and then in fear. Karkat has already gone through the hot flash of spine-stiffening terror; his nook is now a frenzy of shudders and fruitless clenching.

They press harder against the wall; Karkat ducks his head lower, cheek and chin pushing against the hollow of Kankri's hip.

Kankri's nook is trying to swallow his fingers. He has a hand on his mouth once again in a ridiculously prissy way; his horrified eyes are aimed at the window and his leg is holding on to Karkat's back so tight he couldn't pull back if he wanted.

Karkat wriggles down, shoves Kankri's other leg on his other shoulder, and dives mouth-first into his nook. (If he gasps, if he moans, not even Kankri will be able to hear.) Kankri's knees clench over his ears, he's deaf and he's going to smother in his crotch. If the girl sees them and yells he might not even know it straight away.

He crooks his fingertips against Kankri's seedflap deep inside and licks a stripe through his folds, darts the tip of his tongue in between his own spread fingers.

When he manages to look up Kankri is snarling down at him, pupils huge, teeth bared (gorgeous when he lets himself be angry.)

This is hate, Karkat thinks, and digs the claws of his other hand in a soft, unmarked hip. Kankri kicks on reflex -- and then kicks again. The grin spreading on Karkat's face at that, he doesn't control. It's full of malice and triumph. See? See what I make you do, soon you'll yank on my hair and try to punch me and it'll be all your own decision.

The scent of tobacco wafts in. Karkat has resumed fucking him. He's close, from the way he clenches on Karkat's fingers, the way his seedflap spasms desperately over his fingertips. The way his bulge escapes and slaps Karkat across the eye, motherfuck, and that weird high-pitched noise was Kankri desperately trying not to laugh. Karkat bares his teeth up at him and swallows his bulge again, sucking him in punishingly fast even as his fingers still.

Kankri shudders; steals little glances up at the window -- either one would be bad but what would be worse, Karkat knows he's thinking, being found enduring his own molestation, or being found trying to fuck himself on Karkat's fingers?

Being found participating is undeniably worse for his little purity squad, but Karkat's resting his hand now and has no intention of giving him even a twitch. With how worked up he is it surprises Karkat not at all when his hips try to roll, when his skin makes this funny noise against the wooden floor when he tries to push himself down.

Karkat just lets his fingers move with Kankri's hips, so he gets no useful stimulation at all, and swallows him down to the root a last time.

A second before Kankri comes his hand finds Karkat's horn, and he holds on.

He's deep enough in Karkat's throat that Karkat's gag reflex gives barely a twitch from his load, long jets of spunk straight down Karkat's throat and into his stomach. He swallows as fast, as much as he can and still gets backed up, still chokes some out to spill on his lips and splatter Kankri's belly, but Kankri is still too destroyed to tear precise little stripes into him for "the untidiness."

Karkat pulls free, watches his bulge flop out in a smear of his own comes, watches his body gone limp, the furious heaving for breath of his chest, his ribs. The sweat on his face, the look on him. He's never come that hard, Karkat has never blown Kankri's mind that badly before and he needs to come so much it aches.

When he straightens up a tiny bit and looks up through the window he sees the back of someone's head, the top half, orange-brownish hair and no horns. Human (who cares) and not looking their way, but so close to seeing them (caring now.) He arches an eyebrow at Kankri, nods his head meaningfully at her. Kankri looks briefly horrified, and starts trying to gather his legs.

They tremble with aftershocks, they're so weak he'd wobble if he walked right niw. They make Karkat want to dive into him again, fuck him so hard he'll just lie there afterwards, he won't even want to try to go anywhere else.

He knew Kankri had a meeting to drive his friends to from the start, of course, that's exactly why he started it now. They're all of Kankri's ilk, a poisonous bunch of "concerned" citizens who preach and don't practice, he doesn't mind pissing them off by proxy.

He lets Kankri slide free. Kankri crabwalk himself back into the corner of the room, out of sight, he stays hunkered down right there, and Karkat watches him gather all his clothes in sneaky, twitchy flicks and scamper out of the room, he sees him ghost halfway up the stairs and pretend-come down, pants on and fighting to pull down his turtleneck.

(His t-shirt is under Karkat's knee; all afternoon he'll be naked underneath the wool.)

He lets Kankri do that, lets him call out through the door, "My apologies, I feel asleep, I'll be with you in a minute!" and then he ghosts out of the living room and into the hall where Kankri is reaching for the door.

He presses against his back, entirely naked, grabs his hips.

"Karkat," Kankri hisses, and turns his head to glare at him, and doesn't squirm to push him off.

"Shh, won't take long," Karkat says, and tugs his pants down to his thighs. "It wouldn't be fair otherwise."

"It wasn't fair when you assailed me in -- where you did!" Kankri growls -- fuck yes, it is a growl -- and pushes his hips back against him.

He got to empty his shame globes, but his seedflap's empty. Karkat knows how that feels; good, yes, but almost a disappointment, a tingle deep inside slowly dying unsatisfied.

(Karkat assailed him in that he was the one who got naked, and Kankri was the one who jumped at him trying to tow him back out of the front room and tripped them both to the floor. Hypocrite.)

Karkat is grabbing his hips and pulling them back until he's bent over, ass offered, and then he's inside him, hips flush against his ass and his bulge uncoiling forcefully against Kankri's sore inner folds.

"Kankri? Are you quite ready? We'll be very late! If we miss the debate on quadrants and ingrained hypersexuality in today's society--"

It doesn't take him long.

He pulls out of Kankri, considerate enough (hah) to avoid leaving a questionable streak on the back of his pants (and he shakes, and fights not to plant his claws in the wood of the door and pin him there so he can slump heavy and tired on him and feel him try to squirm free.) Kankri turns around in his arms and sneers at him, color high on his cheeks. His face is so much more interesting in anger than it ever is in haughty disinterest.

There's no time for a bucket.

Kankri has pulled up his pants, has his hands fisted on the waistband; Karkat buttons him up, gives his belly a little tap, almost gentle, just enough to remind him how full he is.


"One minute!" he -- was that a yell? Did Kankri raise his voice in impatience to one of his Allies? Heh. Heheheh.

He stares at Karkat down his nose as he pats down his turtleneck. Karkat takes a lazy step back, and doesn't cover any part of his naked body. (How much he hates looking at its imperfections is nothing to how much Kankri hates being reminded of his -- of their -- carnality.)

"I don't believe I could ever loathe anyone more than I loathe you," he says quietly, and he -- oh, oh, he sets his hand on Karkat's bare chest and he pushes him back out of sight of the opening door.

It's a baby push. Karkat was nudged harder by his lusus turning over in his sleep.

It's the first step down the slippery slope of physical might.

Karkat waits a few seconds, and then he trots back to Kankri's living room and its wide open window, and when Kankri glances back as he herds his friends off Karkat waves with red-stained fingers, his naked, red-smeared body visible from the hips up.

After that he hides in the bathroom and spends the next hour running up Kankri's hot water bill and purring.