== Be the high blood

You are now Gamzee Makara and you´re getting your chill on in the dark tunnels of the air vents, of all places.

It´s cold, cramped and cozy. And smells like a wonderpie with all of the colors of your friends´ mirthful blood staining the walls.

You feel at home. You´d honk to confirm it, but the smallest sounds of feet hitting the concrete give you second thoughts. You can´t see a shadow, because it´s just as fucking black outside the vent as it´s black inside the vent.

So you close your ocular orbs and breathe in deeply, choosing to scent the approaching motherfucker. A smile forms on your lips as you senses take in the sweet warm smell of blood and emotions.

You wedge your sharpass claws under the gate of the vent and slip out, your feet hitting the ground in absolute silence.

Your target doesn´t notice. He´s all OBLIVIOUS to your presence.

The little troll is making music, humming absently as he saunters through the dark hallway. Your thinkpan reacts fondly to the noises and you vaguely recall nights in the horn pile, dreaming to that same song.

You know you should go all up to him and wrap your large, strong arms around his tiny meat sack. It´s what palebros do, give each other hugs and kisses on the horns.

But as the rough hums echo in your head, a familiar feeling pierces your gut, like a misplaced horn in your recupercoon, but from the inside.

You stop smiling. Your hand opens and decaptchalouge, still as silent as the heart of your lusus when you last saw him, a club falling in your hand.

Karbro is almost at the corner. He still hasn´t noticed you and that infuriates you more. Is that motherfucker blind? Deaf? Doesn´t he know the horrorterrors never sleep?!

You flashstep forward, fingers clenching the thin neck of the club. You imagine warm skin and a beating pulse instead and grip harder.

Karbro stopped humming. He´s staring ahead of him. He can sense your presence. "Turn around, motherfucker." You growl in his ear.

A flash of silver and he´s facing you, sickles in hand.

"G-Gamzee? What the fuck, you scared the shit out of me!"

He´s relaxing, giving you a worried look masked in an angry scowl.

You stare at him.

He fidgets.

"Gamzee?" Fuck, that noise, you can taste the fear on your tongue.

Karkat glances at your club, and his eyes widen like he hadn´t noticed it before.

"Yes, palebro?" You say back and you don´t bother to keep the horrorterrors out of your voice. You´re just mocking him now.

"What are you doing with that club, man? Just put them down."

"No can do, motherfucker." You step forward and his sickles twitch upwards in a defensive position in front of his blood pusher. He´d better, you think. You´re about to get all offensive on his pitiful, mutant ass.

"Gamzee."

"I can´t put this down, Karkat."

"Gamzee, stop."

"This is my miracle worker."

"Gamzee, listen to me!"

"I MAKE MIRACLES WITH THEM! Miracles, bro, MOTHERFUCKING ONES. The best kind. And you´re going to experience them first hand."

"Fuck! Please, calm down."

"I am going to crack you open, Karbro, with this as my key. I AM GOING TO PAINT YOU ALL OVER THE WALLS OF THIS MOTHERFUCKING ROCK VESSEL! Hehe."

"Shoooosh…Gam-gamzee, just shoosh-"

"DON´T FUCKING SHOOSH ME!" You roar, swinging the club.

It connects with bone and the troll in front you crumbles. You guess he thought his pale shenanigans would work again.

Haha. No fucking way. You toss the still meat sack on your shoulder and climb into the vents, scenting the fresh miracle of candy blood dripping down your shoulder.

-: o )-

Your new respite block is hidden, where no nosy low blood or human can find you. You decorated it with the blood of your so called friends, propping headless bodies up in chairs and hanging the missing heads from the ceiling. Except Tavbro. His beautiful face lies in your new pile, ready for a round of smooching before you sleep. Shame he never wanted to kiss you when he was still alive.

The pile consists of all the horns you could fin before the others discarded your old pile (motherfuckers will pay). Then there are rocks, empty bottles, Aradiabot pieces, a few of Terezi´s plush dragons and Ross spare shirt (it smells nice and foreign).

You dump Karbro into the pile. The wound on his skull went all up and dried halfway, but the remaining moisture glistens wickedly. You want to taste it.

You continue to stare for a few minutes, imagining ripping through his skin, tasting his blood, bathing in sweat while you two wrestled in the pile like a pair of mirthful black brothers. He´d scratch your back open and you´d sink your fangs in his shoulder, coating your face bright red while you pound your bulge into his nook.

You think about his muffled whimpers and can almost hear his groans.

Wait.

You blink.

He´s waking up, hissing softly in pain.

You want to shoosh him out of instinct.

Instead, you drop down in his lap. His eyes shoot open, but you´ve already got both of his wrists in one hand and the other on his neck, claws digging in.

You smirk.

"Hello there, palebro no more. Didn´t think you´d get the miracle of joining me in the motherfucking waking world, did you?"

"Gamzee…fuck! Get the fuck off of me you crazy juggalo!"

He tries to struggle and a few horns honk in the process. You watch, content on top of him while various muscles flex under you in his escape attempt. He looks so motherfuckin adorable, like a worm on a hook, and you chuckle.

He eventually stops, breathing hard and shoots you a sharp clawed glared.

"Get off me, nookstain."

"Nah, brother, I don´t motherfucking think so." You bend forward and your nose touches his. His glare softens and you can tell his thinkpan´s spinning like a party bottle because you´re sending him mixed quadrant signals.

You bare your teeth in a predatory grin to clear up confusion. He does it back at you, minus the smiling.

"So what are you even fucking doing? Did you kidnap me here just so you can sit on my crotch and grin at me like the pan rusted idiot grubfuck you are? Or is there another reason? Are you going to hang my head next to Vriska´s? Or maybe Eridan´s?"

"I don´t have any plans on murdering you, shouty motherfucker." You say, ruffling his hair. Friendly gesture enough, if you hadn´t scraped your claws into his scalp. "I´m just havin a lil fun."

"Fun? Oh my gog, you are more messed up than I thought you are."

"Karbro."

"What?!"

"We motherfucking need to get our conversation on."

"About what, bulgebrains?"

You shift, bouncing lightly on top of him. Several horns go honk and his grimace deepens in annoyance. You laugh and do it again, just to piss him off, until he screams at you to stop.

You change your grip on his tiny wrists, taking on in each papper, and holding them down beside his head.

His ocular orbs widen ever so slightly as you lean forward, getting all up into his personal space. You see it anyway. You´re so motherfucking close to his face.

The air gusts storming from your breathing tubes clash together. It smells like a jumble of grape faygo and grubsauce. You wonder if he ate alone in his respite block or with the rest of the joyful motherfuckers. You wonder if he spends most of his time alone.

"Gamzee." His growling rips you out of your stupor and you stop floating around in your mind to return to the pile.

You hiss at him quietly. "What´s up, Karbro?"

"You´re staring." He grits his teeth.

"Yeah. Right, I am."

"Well, quit it, it annoys the shit out of me. You wanted to talk, remember? Or has your ´wicked elixir of the gods´ addled you to the point of amnesia?"

"Nah. I wanted to say. I´m pitch. For the cutest troll the mother grub ever went up and made."

"For whom, nooksniffer?"

"How many motherfucking trolls do you see in this room?" You growl. His eyes wander over to Tavros´ head and you dig your nails into the pulse of his wrists.

"Don´t get coy with me."

Karkat shakes his head.

"Yeah, there´s no fucking way you´re pitch for m-ahh!" His smaller form arches up against yours. Blood wells up from the marks of your fangs on his neck and you suck the droplets out, relishing the bitter fluids.

"Fuck! Quit that!"

You press your lips against the bleeding wound, eliciting a gasp of pain from the smaller troll.

"Don´t fight it, Karbro." You murmur against his skin as he aggressively tries to pull himself free from your grasp. You know he wouldn´t be able to succeed, seeing how stronger you are than him, but honestly, all his struggling is doing wicked little things down in your pants.

"Go stick a rusty fork up your nook." He responds.

"I´d rather have other objects sticking themselves all up in my nook."

You raise your head and your shark like grin was met with a flustered scowl.

"What are you looking at, douche nozzle?"

"You´re so motherfucking weak and helpless, it´s adorable."

"Shut up."

You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Oh, but it´s true, Karbro. I can do anything I motherfucking want right now and it doesn´t even matter if you´re down with it or not."

"What are you talking ab-"

Smirking, you grind your hips into his. His whole form twitches and his ocular orbs are wide, like he can´t believe you just did that. So you do it again and this time you detect movement in his crotch.

Seems like your bugle is not the only thing out right now.

"Problem, brother?" You taunt your still silent pile buddy. Karkat´s surprise faded away into something completely different. Lust and anger, still there, but fear glints in his eyes as well.

You run your tongue over your lips hungrily. His eyes follow it. You grin wider. "Like what you are seeing, motherfucker?"

"Shut up, Gamzee." He strains against your hands again. "Let me go."

"Why should I?"

"Because I want to touch you, you insufferable, grubpailing, ass."

You release his wrists and grab the sides of his head and mash your lips together. He groans up in your mouth, one of his hands tangling up in your hair and tugging on the long, curly strands fiercely.

You growl in response and bite his tongue warningly.

"I´m the alpha troll of this pile." You say against his mouth.

"Bite me." Is his response and you make sure to do just that. The cancer moans loudly, tilting his head back when your fangs bury in his collarbone. His exposed neck is too tempting to pass up. You move upwards, sucking and biting a trail of bright red bruises along the curve of his throat.

Your hands wander, slipping underneath his thick sweater to scratch at his grubscars. A mixed whimper of pain and pleasure is your reward, and you do it again, sometimes lighter, making him pant in your ear, sometimes harsher, where the grip in your hair would become painfully tight.

You´re still not satisfied. You´d like to get an eyeful of all of his miraculous form that he keeps hidden away underneath those layers. So you hook your claws in the slightly damp fabric and pull.

A sharp sound goes up and interrupts the previous wonderful steamy noise. Karkat stares at you in disbelief.

"What the hell, Gamzee? That was my only sweater I had left and now I have to go and alchemize new clothes and listen to Strider nag me about walking around shirtless! Plus, how the fuck am I supposed to hide all of these bruises now?!"

"You can always stay here, pitch brother."

"Like hell. I don´t want my head to end up next to fucking Tavros."

"Then shut the motherfuck up." You threaten and reach for his pants. He immediately goes to grab your wrist, but a snarl from you and he´s letting you pull them off him, leaving him only in his black and white checkered boxers.

He avoids your hungry gaze and crosses his arms. "If I have to be naked, you might as well strip too."

You chuckle and start pulling your shirt carefully over your head, making sure not the snag the fabric on your horns. "Sure thing, Karbro."

For a few seconds, everything goes dark as the shirt travels over your eyes, but once it´s light again, you see your little new kismesis studying your chest. Your grubscars are a deep amethyst color and your ribs stick out like roots of a tree surfacing from the ground.

You have always been the bony type, probably due from living on pie and faygo for most of your days. But not Karkat. He had enough of pupa fat to keep his bones well hidden. Not chubby, Sburb took care of that, but nowhere near as skinny as you are. You run your hands of his stomach. You like the feeling.

You go for your pants next, working the black, polka dotted fabric over your hips, legs, down to your ankles, where you kick it off, over Karkat´s head, behind the pile.

The front of your underwear is already stained and your bulge is writhing against the fabric, trying to escape its confinements.

Karkat swallows hard, but you give him no time to voice any fears. You return to sit on his lap, your mouth finding his. While the two of you kiss and bite and press your bodies flush against the other´s, you slip your hand down into his boxers. Capturing his squirming bulge between your fingers, you let it glide through them and eventually wrap around your wrist.

Your pile buddy suppresses his groans, cursing under his breath. His voice finally dies out when you stroke the bright red appendage with your thumb, lightly grazing it with the tip of your claw.

"Fuck! A-ahh, Gamzee…!" He moans, finding hold by grapping onto your hips.

"Hmm?…what, Karbro?" You ask, running the knuckles of your other hand teasingly against his nook.

He whimpers. "Pl-please…ah, shit. Just-…fuck."

"Please what, motherfucker? You have to get your communication on if you want me to be doing anything."

"Sh-shut up, nookstain. You…you know what I fucking mean. I´m not g-going to, to be-beg-fuck! That hurt, douchenozzle!"

You do it again anyways, roughly handling his bulge, not guarding your claws or what they scratch.

"Sorry, bro. But I´m not one of those motherfucking thinkpan seers. You´re gonna hafta go all up and explain this to me."

Of course you know what he motherfucking means, but you want to hear him say it. You want to hear him scream it, beg it until he´s all hoarse and scratchy and every groan damages his windpipe but he can´t stop himself because you´re hurting him too good.

"Fuck me!"

"Huh, what?" You return to reality, squinting at him. Did he say anything?

"Gogdammit, Gamzee, just fuck me already you whimsical piece of horseshit, terrible, excuse for a fucking troll, I can´t believe I´m filling a quadrant with an absolute thinkpan addled, psychotic moron like- like…ahh yessss….."

You´ve pushed your boxers down as well and cut off his rant as your bulge found and prodded his swollen nook.

You thrust your hips forward, going deeper into the smaller troll laid out in front of you, your hand squeezing along the curling appendage.

He practically sobs, one hand seeking yours in slight comfort in the storm of pleasure. You pin his arm above his head and squeeze his bulge harder, your own abusing his nook mercilessly. You rub it against his seed flap teasingly, remembering what he told you once, when you two still had diamonds instead of spades, that one of his fears is pailing and forgetting a bucket, therefore humiliating himself endlessly.

You don´t plan on bringing out a pail at all.

He seems to remember the exact same thing just a little while after you do, due to your bugle bringing him close to the edge over and over again, and his eyes snap open.

Karkat sends you a half panicked, half threatening look, but it quickly changed back to raw bliss as you rub the entrance to his nook around your bugle, pleasuring the both of you at the same time.

You laugh darkly, the sound laced with breathless groans and you lightly prod his sac again. This time, you keep the pressure going, watching him squirm and cry, begging you for release, begging you to stop.

You press his bulge and lean over, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth. Helpless pants pour out and he frantically rut against you, trying to seek out that small push he so desperately needs to come undone.

You lock your lips together, sucking on his tongue lightly. You swallow his moans. His eyes open and besides the hazy look reflecting in his ocular orbs, you see watery red tears forming and dripping down his cheeks, his small form overwhelmed with pleasure and terror.

It satisfies you, seeing him so vulnerable and pathetic. You kiss him once more, then press up against his seed flap, finally shoving him off the edge.

He screams against your mouth, writhing on the pile as sobs and curses stream out, along with an explosion of candy red, coating both of you in his color and soaking into the fabrics underneath. A bit splashes on Tavros´ face as well.

Despite the clenching heat surrounding your bulge, your nook still pleads for attention. You hump down against a random plushie, the rough fabric and hot wetness sloshing against your swollen flesh giving you push you needed. You come with a heated, growling shout, throwing your head back as white hot pleasure surged through you. Every nerve tingles and you see miracles dancing before your eyes.

When they clear, you turn your gaze back to Karkat. His chest is rising and falling fast, hooded eyes dazed, but furious.

"You awful, treacherous fuckass!"

"Hehe."

"Shut up, shitsponge."

You let yourself fall on top of him, genetic material squelching. Karbro makes a face.

"Go to sleep, motherfucker." You whisper in his ear, before tucking your head into his neck.

Pale, you know, but until you figure out the fine art of pitch afterpail cuddling, it´s all he´s going to get.

He grumbles a bit, about how it´s the wrong quadrant, bulgebrains, but eventually, he nuzzles into your damp, sweaty hair and you both drift off.