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In the capable surface tiers of his thinkpan and the deepest recesses of his downloads file tree, Karkat knows that interspecies amorations are not... unprecedented. They’re just even more robustly doomed than the quadrant smearers.
It’s been one month since you'd had That Talk. Not all that much has changed. Dave was already living here, and his shit was already all over your respiteblock due to a previously unacknowledged infinite sleepover. The boundaries between yours and his were already comfortably fuzzy. It’s just that now you can let yourself enjoy how warm that makes you feel.
What also makes you warm are the hundreds of little moments of Dave opening up as your... partner.
TG: hey karkat found some extra kisses any idea where i can put em
TG: hey karkat i made breakfast yeah i already ate but ill have some coffee and watch you eat if thats ok
TG: haha are you even awake yet
TG: hey karkat scoot your delicious ass over im fucking freezing here i come
You had no idea what you were really getting into here. Nothing in your extensive literature review of the romantic sciences could have possibly prepared you for it. First of all, between the alien and the fact that you two have still failed to broach any sort of quadrant negotiation, this technically isn’t even a romance at all but an intercultural embarrassment-in-waiting. At least, that’s why it took you so long to think about discussing any of it with him.
The volume of those doubts has waned recently. You know you can’t quite convince your pump biscuit of any of that, not really, while Dave has his legs slung over your lap, his thorax pressed up to yours to maximally bask in a simple rumble that he earned by digging his blunt, brittle, barely-there claws into your scalp.
(That’s pale. Is this pale? He’d kissed you, first.)
You kiss his forehead and he makes a breathy noise that you have learned indicates a happy human. He smells like skin, adorned mostly with traces of you.
DAVE: hey
KARKAT: HM?
You watch him sit up, and feel his fingers trace your luminous flush down the sides of your throat (Concupiscent pattern. Fuck.) to where the crimson glow is smothered by your shirt.
DAVE: can i maybe see where this goes sometime
DAVE: your pretty mood lighting i mean
A pretty far cry from the “lethal mutancy beacon” you’d always thought of it as. It surges in brightness.
KARKAT: LIKE, PHYSICAL INTIMACY?
The idea--no, the vulnerability, the quadratic commitment--makes your squeam sack flip uncomfortably.
DAVE: ok well you dont have to say it like youre about to turn me away from a blood drive but yes karkat
DAVE: i aint tryna pry here or anything but
DAVE: per our recent discussion-
You snort at that.
KARKAT: AND YOU TOLD ME NOT TO GET CLINICAL ABOUT IT.
He shooshes you briefly. (So that he can ask you to take your clothes off--bafflingly unpale)
DAVE: fuck off i was trying to find your comfort zone
DAVE: cause the number one zone on you i am about is that one
DAVE: the comfort one i mean
DAVE: the zones of you and on you that make you feel *good*
DAVE: and safe and loved and maybe even hot
He looks so comfortable. His lips turn up lazily at the side, and his head is tilted in a quiet invitation for some part of you to interact with his neck, if you felt like it. You already know he likes your kisses there. Concupiscently. Still, his eyes are alert, gauging your reactions to this overture. You bring your hand up and stroke the back of his neck, your thumb brushing under his ear. Predictably, he leans into your touch. The little hairs there stand up for some reason, but you’ve learned it’s not alarm.
You glance down, and yup, there it is on his arms--that weird bumpy rash texture. If it happens when you touch him, he’s probably completely allergic to you and trying to be nice about it. Your brows fold and you bite your lip as various guilts spar in your thorax. You’re poisoning him by touching, and he’s asking for more.
KARKAT: OF COURSE I ALREADY FEEL GOOD AROUND YOU.
DAVE: im not talking ‘around’ im talking ‘against’ babe
Damn Dave for actually studiously absorbing the whole “talk about your feelings” thing you’d badgered him to do for literal sweeps. Some feelings, like yours, however, are just too much of a mess.
DAVE: i mean like i just sort of thought youd let me now
DAVE: that youd want to try some new things as boyfriends n all
DAVE: you gave me that one taste but i kind of thought we could do more
DAVE: im not sure im showing you all the things i wanna show
KARKAT: IS THAT WHAT YOU DO WITH BOYFRIENDS? BECAUSE MOST OF THE TIME SO FAR IT’S INVOLVED THE SORT OF EMOTIONAL MAINTENANCE THAT I’D CALL PALE. I’M JUST TRYING TO LEARN IT FROM YOU HERE.
DAVE: learn what from me
DAVE: what boyfriends is??
DAVE: karkat boyfriends is boyfriends its just US but like
He makes what you suppose is some kind of gesture for unity with his hands, bringing his indicative prongs together in a peak. But the way his other prongs curl, it could be caliginous, or even ashen. You squint at this puzzle. He sighs and squares himself on your lap to ensure he has your attention. You glance at his arms again, and the allergy has abated for now at least. That’s good.
DAVE: boyfriends is just us letting ourselves just be
DAVE: and do what we want to do and feel how we want to feel
DAVE: right
DAVE: i thought you got that
KARKAT: I MEAN, I’VE HEARD IT. BUT IT SEEMS HARD TO TRUST, EXPECTING TO MONOPOLIZE ONE PERSON LIKE THAT AND NOT COMPLETELY EXHAUST THEM.
That sets off Dave’s eyebrows, signaling a terrible incoming line that you make sure to groan to simultaneously with its delivery:
DAVE: baby id love it if youd just wear me out and wring me dry
DAVE: but do you really want to share me?
Now, that makes something hot and protective flare in your lungs. You know that answer. You hold onto his hips. Your hands are bigger on him than they were before your metamorphosis.
KARKAT: **NO.**
He grins.
DAVE: thats right
KARKAT: SO YOU’RE SERIOUS ABOUT THE CONCUPISCENCE? DESPITE ALL THE COMPLICATIONS?
His next head tilt is obviously confusion-based, judging by further eyebrow action.
DAVE: what fuckin complications
DAVE: we just went over it
DAVE: your feelings aint a complication so dont worry bout emotionally shitting where you eat out or whatever cause i promise i have signed up to receive the full karkatian package whatever it actually entails
How can he ignore the obvious problems?
KARKAT: BUT YOU’RE ALLERGIC TO ME!
He looks at you like your horns fell off.
DAVE: what
DAVE: karkat what the fuck i am not allergic to you
DAVE: the shit that goes on in my chest cause of you is just feelings and it turns out im supposed to have those after all
KARKAT: NO, I MEAN THE SKIN CONDITION.
DAVE: skin condition???????
KARKAT: WHEN I TOUCH YOU, YOU BREAK OUT IN A HUGE RASH!
He stares blankly, agape, trying to puzzle through this one, then studies his own arms.
DAVE: do you mean
DAVE: fucking goosebumps
KARKAT: GOOSE BUMPS, CHICKEN POX, WHATEVER AVIANESQUE DERMAL DISEASE IT IS, I CAN *SEE IT*, AND IT ONLY HAPPENS SOMETIMES.
To your surprise and consternation, he laughs out loud and kisses your cheek.
DAVE: no babe thats a good thing
DAVE: chalk that one up as a 3-D flush alright same thing
DAVE: yours glows mine does little bumps sometimes
DAVE: its all good youre fine you dont hurt me
Well... it’s a relief, but it’s not complete relief. You huff and throw up your hands.
KARKAT: BUT I COULD! I COULD, SO EASILY! REMEMBER WHEN I TRIED TO BRUSH MY TEETH AFTER I ECLODED? I MISJUDGED AND SHOT THE WHOLE TUBE OF PASTE STRAIGHT INTO THE WALL!
DAVE: am i the toothpaste in this metaphor or am i the tube or is it a kool-aid man type chimera-
KARKAT: YOU’RE NOT TOOTHPASTE, DAVE. YOU’RE WAY MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT. EVEN IF IT TURNS OUT THAT I DON’T CAUSE YOU CONTACT DERMATITIS, I’M SURE THERE’S A DOZEN MORE HORRIBLE WAYS THAT LETTING ME AT YOU IS A BAD IDEA, EVEN EXCUSING THE ISSUES OF TASTE! I MIGHT NOT BE REAL IMPERIAL MATERIAL, BUT I’M STILL TWICE YOUR SIZE.
Dave nods.
KARKAT: I’M SHARPER THAN YOU.
Dave nods more.
KARKAT: I’M STRONGER THAN YOU.
If Dave was still wearing his shades, they would be in serious danger of pirouetting right the fuck off his cartilaginous nub.
DAVE: yes please thank you i have noticed-
KARKAT: MY OUTSIDE IS PROTECTIVE AND STURDY, AND YOURS JUST BARELY SORT OF HOLDS YOUR ORGANS IN PLACE.
He looks down and pokes his middle. Your point is neatly illustrated by the way his finger so easily seems to go into his side, easily up to a knuckle. It’s so unnatural.
KARKAT: I’D JUST HAVE TO FUCK UP ONE TIME, AND I THINK WE CAN STILL ALL AGREE THAN I AM THE RANK-ASS *KING* OF FUCKING THINGS UP.
Dave shifts again while he considers this new information. Now he’s on your other side, legs again over your lap, leaning his shoulder on yours, and leaving your rumblespheres wide open for him to rest his palm on, which he immediately does. Somehow, they interest him even when silent.
DAVE: that soft bit of me is where i keep my guts its supposed to be squishy
DAVE: i mean i could help you file your claws a bit if youre worried
That sounds reasonable, but there are other dangers as well. You can feel the list piling up in the back of your gullet like the revenge of something your lusus dragged home.
KARKAT: HOW DO I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL WITH SUCH A SUBTLE FLUSH?
DAVE: i know it doesnt feature very much in your books but have you tried listening to me cause sometimes i say words
KARKAT: WHAT IF I TRIGGER AN EMPREGNATION AND YOU SUFFER MONTHS OF BODILY HORRORS AT MY DOING???
He laughs at this one, for some godforsaken reason.
DAVE: please just trust me when i say emphatically that you will *not* do that
KARKAT: WHAT IF ... SOMETHING, GETS IN YOUR GANDERBULB. WITH ONLY ONE LID, YOU HAVE NO PROTECTION.
DAVE: unless you jizz acid or something ill shower and be fine probably
DAVE: but i like whatever you just pictured
KARKAT: WHAT IF...
The current supply of horrible makebelieve scenarios has actually been exhausted, but your anxiety isn’t quelled. Dave takes a swing at it anyway.
DAVE: sugarbiscuit i wouldnt be asking to fuck if i didnt trust you right down to the most sensitive parts of me
DAVE: and your type of objections aint the wait-it-out type
theyre the work-it-out type
DAVE: like youre never going to trust yourself with me if we dont just prove that its fine right
DAVE: so lets just take it slow
That helps. You wrap your arm around him to hold him.
DAVE: trust my judgment of you a little here
DAVE: and trust yourself ok
He freezes, groans, and buries his head in his hands.
DAVE: god i did not just do a fucking believe in me who FUCKING believes in you speech before trying to pop my god damn cherry oh my god thats it im done i thought that man was out of my head-
Kissing him is the obvious distraction.
You’re sitting on Dave’s bed. He moved it in here (to what is now the only respiteblock in the hive) to “monitor” you while you were pupating, despite the smell, and has since pushed it right up to the edge of your cocoon to make for what he calls “pillow talk”. Sometimes you cuddle with him up on it. The sleep you get there is almost as good as the sopor.
Sleeping together, actually sleeping, was one of the first weird new sensations of this exciting foray into interspecies romance.
Of course you weren’t used to it. It’s alien and weird. You can’t fit two people into a cocoon with any comfort even if you did have the required bone-deep mortal trust in the other being.
But...
You admire your new manicure. The impressive shine on your newly blunted claws gives them the illusion of a handsome point.
... You do have that bone-deep mortal trust, don’t you?
Dave’s lounging further up the platform, trying to look somewhat nonchalant despite his fidgeting.
DAVE: hey
DAVE: you look really good and i think you should come get a little horizontal with me please
DAVE: the knight of time promising you a good time tonight
The line gets a laugh out of you and succeeds in breaking the ice that seems to frost up between you two the second someone sits too far away for too long.
KARKAT: IT’S JUST NOON WITH CURTAINS. DO I HAVE TO WAIT?
He can’t take his eyes off you, and you haven’t even done anything. He wants you. It’s obvious to you and your bulge, and despite your lingering reservations about what sorts of alien risks and substances you might encounter, you recline next to him. Face to glowing, flushed face. He smells warm and inviting.
He welcomes you with a kiss. It starts easy, but his eagerness becomes completely apparent as he pushes at you with the enthusiasm that he’s been reserving since that first, spontaneous, too-fast makeout a month ago. Blunt prongs begin to roam. First, he traces that seam between your sensible turtleneck and your sensible sweatpants. Then he slides his palm up your side, until...
KARKAT: OW FUCK! CUT IT OUT.
DAVE: what is this too much
KARKAT: YOUR PRONGS DON’T GO THERE.
You swat Dave’s prongs out of your spiracles and give him a ruby red squint.
DAVE: whats even going on under there anyway
KARKAT: MY IRREVOCABLY MORTAL MEAT HULL, OBVIOUSLY.
DAVE: ok yeah but can i see it
Take off your clothes? Well, it isn’t an outright necessary requirement of what you had planned. You’ve read plenty about folks that don’t bother with details like that and still get the job done. Wouldn’t it be better to leave your unremarkable form to Dave’s imagination, which would naturally provide something he’d like better?
Unfortunately, your mouth moves faster than your thinkpan. Maybe the signals of another organ got there first.
KARKAT: ONLY IF I CAN SEE YOURS.
And maybe that’s not so bad. If this chitinous meat satchel is going to make anybody happy, it’s going to be Dave, isn’t it? He saw you emerge grown, slimy and pink, and is still asking for more for some reason.
You reflect that one of the perennial realities of xenophilia is the practical necessity of delighting in your partner as he is, whatever form or life stages you might be invited to share. That’s also one of the exact facts that made Dave so appealing to you, isn’t it? That Dave would come to your body without any notions of its pervasive wrongness, without any expectations for your color or your lethality or your horns or your body? Isn’t part of his allure that every new discovery of you would be a wonder in its own right? Dave isn’t a fortress of a troll. He hasn’t got any horns at all. But you know by now that those weren’t his concerns for himself and they’re not his concerns for you either. And you need to recalibrate your own expectations here and work with the human you love right in front of you.
You’ve been selfish, haven’t you?
DAVE: i dont think so
Fuck, said that part out loud.
DAVE: karkat if i wasnt cool with taking it glacial fuckin slow im highly aware that id have picked the wrong guy but as it is we literally got all the time in the universe
DAVE: besides
DAVE: you didn’t go into that cocoon my sweetheart and come out someone capable of hurting me, karkat
He gently helps you out of your shirt, leaving your spiracles alone this time as his prongs slide up your sides, lighting you up along their path. He makes a small gasping noise that you think has to be disgust until you get the garment over your bulbs and see his parted lips, his head tilting to help drink in all of you as much as he can. Your pump biscuit stutters.
(Do you make him feel like that?)
KARKAT: I DIDN’T GO IN AS YOUR SWEETHEART AT ALL.
DAVE: aw cmon honeybuns
DAVE: didnt you?
You give him the sort of harrumph that lets him know he’s right. He grins, letting you know he heard you.
It’s not like he’s wrong. If there were any flush left on you not currently at full shine, it’d be lit now. None of these feelings are as new as they seem, are they?
Dave kisses the bright streak on your throat, helpfully illuminated to let him know exactly what it will do to your bulge. You can feel the blood pooling there, which hasn’t quite displaced its protective plate. It’s only a matter of time now. You can feel the warmth spread in your veins with every beat.
DAVE: look at you shining all lit up like the big apple
DAVE: red delicious
KARKAT: SHUT UP.
KARKAT: NO, WAIT, DON’T DO THAT.
Blunt claws fidget with the fabric of Dave’s shirt. He waits. Glacial fuckin’ slow, he’d said. Working out your complexes, he’d said. You’re going to have to set the pace. Under the black polish, your prongs don’t shred the material. You’ve got protection, you’re not going to hurt him. He’s already made you feel so nice.
Dave’s shirt joins yours where he discarded it (the floor) and you’ve got yourself a half naked human on soft grey sheets.
KARKAT: YOU LOOK...
It’s still weird. Instead of inhabiting a sensibly protective exterior, Dave’s skin stretches over his bones and—like he pointed out—his organs. You can see his ribs and where the muscles stretch over them. Directly, not simply suggested by divots in his chitin, because he doesn’t have any.
Bone-deep mortal trust. On full display. You hear yourself... rumble. Fuck. No. No, it’s okay. He wants everything. You can tell, because his hands are back on you, tracing how your chitin fits together, how your lights indicate your intentions, even if the signals all run together for him.
The visceral reality of how he’s laying himself out in front of you, that same vulnerability that scared you so much, is what flips a switch in you. You love Dave. That’s easily settled. The wave of protective passion that he’s drawing you through? It’s hot. He’s hot. The things you can see under his skin, that’s because he loves and trusts you. Like he said: to his most sensitive parts. And suddenly, you don’t want to take it glacial fuckin’ slow anymore.
KARKAT: POWERFUL. INCREDIBLE. LETHALLY GOOD. YOU’RE WIDE OPEN, BUT YOU KNOW YOU MATTER TOO MUCH TO BE AT RISK.
It’s a power play, the way he’s calling you out as being so securely under his thumb, that could easily slip caliginous on another day.
He laughs out loud in delight at the full throated rumble you unleash. Almost a growl. But maybe that too? The vibrations are one from your jaw to your rumblespheres, and you’d rather repay Dave for his patience than sit and sort your feelings by shape again like wriggler toy blocks.
DAVE: oh HELL fucking yes come here get on me
DAVE: lookin like hot coals well come and give me that heat
Nibbling the inside of his lip to manage his excitement, he rolls onto his back and kicks off his trousers. He does some sort of patting at the front of his nethergarment that makes his hips tremble and pulls at your middle to ask you to follow.
KARKAT: WON’T I CRUSH YOU?
DAVE: ideally
DAVE: not gonna hurt me remember
DAVE: cause youre listening to me remember
DAVE: you can grab me move me
DAVE: give me a lil of those claws even
DAVE: teeth if you think ive earned it
DAVE: like i said im after that full karkatian package
He licks his lips and slides his hand down your front to your own nethergarment, watching your face the whole time. You suddenly realize that for the past several years you’ve been reading him manually curated how-to’s for what you’d like, under the guise of basic romantic literacy education.
DAVE: this karkatian package to be specific
DAVE: can i
You shudder and nod as he tugs your remaining clothes down your hips, and with just one well-guessed stroke invites your entire bulge aside of the bone plate and out to play. There’s another reverential, satisfied sigh from Dave as he runs his fingers up the sides of it, spreading the first slick drips of your repulsive material again and again, as his other hand goes back to his front, but you barely have pan space to notice anything other than him touching you.
It’s basically a great ugly beacon of your mutation. It’s hardly ever done anything of value for you, for so long the shame would kill your mood before you got to that point. Under Dave’s affection and attention, it’s different. He’s not disgusted, you’re not ashamed. You just want to share with him what he wants because you love him. A human. It feels incredible. Your rumbly-growl-whatever pulses in time with your breaths, which happen when you can get yourself to pause kissing him.
An outright moan from Dave makes you open your eyes and look down at him again. Further down, and he’s squirmed out of his shorts as well. What he’s got in his hand is...
KARKAT: DO YOU WANT MY HAND ON THAT? BECUASE IF YOU WANT MY HAND ON THAT, I’M GOING TO NEED A LITTLE MORE FUCKING INSTRUCTION HERE.
You roll back off of him and sit up, Dave follows suit. You can’t help it, you stare. So, you’ve seen a human dick. They had them in Good Luck Chuck. You kind of thought that somehow, Dave’s would look different... and better. Well, it does, a little. Your rumble and lights flicker as nervousness comes for you again.
KARKAT: IT LOOKS LIKE A MUSHROOM. HOW DOES IT WORK? IT DOESN’T MOVE, SO YOU HAVE TO PUPPETEER IT WITH YOUR HIPS, RIGHT?
DAVE: please dont say puppeteer
KARKAT: IS IT SUPPOSED TO BE THAT SWOLLEN? ARE YOU *SURE* IT’S NOT AN ALLERGY? WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH THAT COLOR? IT LOOKS LIKE IT WILL EXPLODE WHEN I TOUCH IT.
He gives a breathy laugh.
DAVE: hope not
DAVE: trusting you with my most sensitive bits remember
DAVE: yaint gored me yet
His soothing grasp brings your safely blunted claws towards that odd protrusion. His hips tip forward smoothly to fit himself into your prongs. With his guidance, it isn’t a hesitant hold anymore.
Since it doesn’t move, and it would save his hips the workout, it only makes sense to move your hand up and down. Recalling his prior wishes, you scoop his thighs one in each hand and haul him into your lap with a grunt. He’s sticky with sweat and grinning as wide as you’ve seen as you lean in to make him feel as good as he’s done for you, weird mushroom or no.
He thrives under your touch, pressing closer to taste, feel, hear more of you, your body, hair, horns, and bulge, while yours quickly learns how to navigate around his between your hands. The way your bodies fit together, as alien as you are, floods you with a new unfamiliar aphrodisiac: pride. This close to him, you’re lighting him up in your color too, painting him with your chaotic, maraschino flush. It makes his eyes sparkle. Red, yours and his. Black hair. Ashen skin. Pale palms grabbing, claiming you for his. All touching and touched, blurring and coming together.
Well, almost.
Dave breaks the rhythm you’ve built with his dick against yours in your hand. You start to let go, but he seizes your hand and squeezes it tight while his fierce kiss turns into a bite to your lower lip that gives way to moans.
DAVE: karkat fuck
DAVE: youre a molten fuckin hunka burnin love with some extra-terrestrial *hunk* fuck *fuck* hhohmygod
His material slicks your palm, and you nibble little marks up his jaw. The smell of him makes your bulge coil. He basks and catches his breath while your bulge coils around him still. When he winces from overstimulation, he scoots just out of your grasp.
Sweaty hair to curled toes, for all his alienness, he’s a perfectly recognizable picture of satisfaction. You did that. He’s-
KARKAT: GORGEOUS.
DAVE: im not the one with the day glo dick
DAVE: talk about a disco stick i mean
He focuses his attention back on it as you work yourself between your prongs.
DAVE: can i suck it please
KARKAT: WITH YOUR MOUTH? AND TEETH???
DAVE: yeah blunt harmless teeth remember
DAVE: let me show you what that lets me do
DAVE: maybe itll give you ideas for next time
He climbs off of the bed and you immediately miss him. Sitting on the floor, upright between your legs like this, his hands are free to wrangle your very excited bulge into his mouth as you watch. The pressure is rising on your seedflap, it’s not going to take long.
His warmth on your bulge was an upgrade from your fingers, his mouth tilts the contents of your thinkpan right onto the floor. His tongue is short, but has the dexterity to give you the contact you need.
You don’t stand a fucking chance when he closes his lips and swallows.
KARKAT: DAVE, FUCK! *DAVE!*
Your release catches him off guard and makes him sputter your genetic material over both of your bodies and the bed, and you haul him back up to help clean him up with the sheet and sweet kisses. He trades his mouth for his hand to toy with your bulge until it begins to retract a couple minutes later. By then, your veins are full of a pleasant buzz that you’re broadcasting from your thorax, laying back with Dave by your side again.
He’s right. You didn’t hurt him. Your differences won’t doom you. Any two puzzle pieces are going to have completely different geometry anyway, won’t they? You reach for his side to draw him close. When his soft middle squishes under your grasp, you can see that not as a fatal weakness, but as more evidence that he’s just that capable of welcoming every part of you, every piece and shade you have to offer, without breaking.
You’re ready to explore so much more with him.