It's sunny out. It's sunny and bright and not the kind of day I like to go outside. The bed's warm and comfy, and John's shirt is soft. Maybe I can bury my face in his chest a little longer and forget everything. Forgetting… forgetting would be nice. Maybe all day. We don't have anything we have to do, so why not?

Where'd I put that collar? There it is, half buried under all this shit. Why do I keep shoving things in my nightstand anyway? It's stupid. Oh, but fuck this feels so good just in my hand, the metal cool and smooth with the soft, warmer leather.

Oh wow, it's even better on my neck- the constant presence, constant ownership. It makes it easier to slip into the role. As the collar goes on everything changes. We're not equals anymore. I'm less than him. Less and stupid and carefree and because of that it's okay for Master to take care of me in ways that I would never want John to.

But he's still warm and still soft and his arms still feel good when he wraps them around me. I close my eyes, inhale deeply, and then the sun has moved and he's scratching between my horns.

I'm not stopping myself from purring this time. It's nice and Master always says that good kitties purr. But it would be better if he was touching my horn. If I just nudge my head a little bit- there. It's so warm, but he stops rubbing and looks down.

"Oh, I get it." He runs his thumb over my tags with his other hand. "It's one of those days isn't it?"

I smile up at him and he starts rubbing my horn again.

"You're such a good boy, Karkat. Always such a good boy."

In response I knead his chest, making sure my fingers are curled in and he laughs.

"Mmm… Kar, I love you, but I have to piss."

Yeah, but cats don't speak English. Besides, he's warm and he smells like safety and home and human. I want to go back to sleep.

"We're playing that game, huh? Well, then, I guess you won't be getting food."

Every pet understands that word. I move. He stands and stretches. Wow, his back is pretty when he arches it like that and his skin is shiny and I want to touch it, run my fingers down and kiss those scratch marks. I'm sorry I did that to you, Master. It was troll me. He's not good enough for you, never good enough he-

Master's hand is on my head again.

"Don't worry. I'll feed you in just a second, okay?"

I give him my first meow of the day. The first of many. I curl back up, listening to the soft papping noises of his steps, so soft, so friendly. I want him to come back and pap me some more. The sound of the absolution trap startles me. That liar!

I get up and walk to the door. With both of my paws I pad at the door, meowing loudly.

"Do you want a bath too, Kar?"

No. nononononono-

The door opens and he grabs me by my collar. He's naked, water dripping down his skin and there's heat in my belly because of it. His hands slip beneath my pajamas and peel them away, throwing them irreverently to the floor. He likes what he sees. I know because his pupils are big and he runs his hands down my chest slowly.

"Such a pretty pet…" It's not quite purring, but it's close enough so I purr back.

He bites my shoulder, not a fighting bite. It's a loving bite, a "you're my kitty, and no one else's." It's silly. He likes to do it even though everyone knows I'm his. They know it even though I've never warn my pretty collars outside the-

Bad Karkat. There is no outside today. Just Master. Master and his kind heart and his beautiful body and the- oh wow, his bulge is all hard and hot already.

He steps back in the shower.

"Here, kitty kitty kitty."

I look at the stream of water and hiss. My ears are pressed back as far as they go. He can't expect me to go!

It looks like he doesn't because now he's sighing, rolling his muscular shoulders and turning away. I don't mind, his butt's pretty too. Every inch of Master is pretty. I should know. I've run my hands and my tongue and my bulge and my nook over every inch, and it's hot sweet salty slick hard warm and he says good kitty over and over and I love it.

I want to be a good kitty. Bracing myself, I climb into the tub and kneel in front of him.

"Glad you wanna get clean too," He says softly. "Because you're such a dirty kitty aren't you?"

Is that good? Bad? I meow and tip my head to the side.

He laughs. "Aw Kar, you're the best. But you know what would make it even better?"

I do. Oh boy do I. I lean forward and lick his bulge. It's playful at first. He loves it when I lap at the head, and I think it's because that's the first thing he trained me to do. The next is harder. Eventually, when I feel like I'm ready, I cover my teeth and try my best to swallow him whole.

"Ah! Good- good boy, Karkat!"

His hands-big hands strong hands, the hands that played me like a piano last night with one on my bulge and one in my nook-grip my hair tightly. My ears perk slightly and I blink slowly to show him I'm relaxed, not afraid, that I'll always trust Master. Now he's fucking my mouth, rushed and ruthless but he's making pretty noises. Master is happy, so I'm happy. I purr and he shouts, thrusting even deeper. I feel him come down my throat. In the past, before I was trained, I'd retch, spit it out and run away. Now I suck and suck and he's warm and salty as his genetic material slips down and settles in my stomach.

"Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck…"

That's a bad word. Is Master angry? Did I do a bad job? I let go of his bulge, small and floppy now. He gets to his knees beside me and pets my hair. He calls me good again and then gets the shampoo. It feels so good having him scratch at my skull that I don't even mind that I'm wet.

He slips behind me and I hear him fumble for the soap. His hands are just washing my back right now, but I want him to shove me down. Shove me down and forward, yank my pelvis up by my sheath and fuck my nook.

He must be seeing the red. He must see how much I want it. But he ignores it. He always does because my mouth and my hands can coax happiness from him all day, but my bulge only works once, twice if we're lucky. But he likes making me wait. He likes seeing how much slips out of me when he finally opens me up.

Cats aren't patient. He doesn't care. Master is smart, he really can't miss the bright red when he pulls my clothes back on. ("You're prettier without, but I don't want my Karkitten to be cold!")

He feeds me then. I must have been a good boy because he gives me rice and grubsauce instead of tuna. I eagerly start to eat. Then he gives me more. My stomach's stretching now. I feel it with each bite. But it's tasty. It's tasty and it's mine and I'm still not used to as much as I want whenever I want even though I've already started getting fat and- and cats don't care about that kind of musclebeast shit.

I look up. He's not even eating, just staring with a bright blush on his face. Does he want me on his bulge again? I'd like that. Everything's even warmer and fuller now that I've eaten. I feel swollen everywhere and I need him to help me let it out.

But then he heads into the recreationblock and turns on the television. A stupid earth movie again? Come on… I climb onto the couch and settle my head in his lap. I start breathing heavily onto his groin, coaxing coaxing coaxing. Come on, the bump is getting bigger, just let him-

About half way through the movie he shoos me off of him for long enough to unzip his jeans. I look down at myself and meow, hoping he understands I want clothes off. He smiles at me, but I see the cruelty in his eyes.

"You're a good boy, Kar. But I think you can do a little better. Just paws or mouth now."

I give him an annoyed meow. Not fair, Master. Not fair at all. Especially when I'm so full, so happy, so horny. But I am a good boy. I am. So I lick and paw and before long I'm swallowing more genetic material. It's good that he's not a troll. My stomach would never hold all of that.

We sit through that movie. And another. And another. I give up and curl up, letting the fullness of my stomach cover the emptiness of my nook. When I wake up the shadows have moved again and Master is gone. I stretch and start to look for him.

I smell him before I see him. He's cooking chicken with lemon and green things. I don't like the green things, but I realize my stomach's not really full anymore. I crawl over and nuzzle his legs. He laughs and pets my hair.

His hand is on my horn again and I want his big hard bulge splitting me open.

Thanks, brain. I was hoping to eat happily.

This time he puts my bowl on the table.

"You've been a so good, Karkat. So good." He slips a breast into my bowl.

I look at him and then at the chicken. At him, and then at the chicken. Then I jump on it, tearing into the meat. This is what troll teeth are made for: biting at tearing flesh and it's so good. This time he doesn't even pretend not to watch. I can feel the grease getting on my cheeks and his eyes locked on me. I'm filthy. Kitties don't do this. They don't sit at the table. Don't eat people food.

But I don't think Masters are supposed to have one hand under the table when they watch their pets eat. Maybe we're both bad, but he's the one I want to be good for so what does it matter?

He gets through about half of his and then pushes the rest to me. I'm full again. My stomach is stretching like crazy. Two big meals in one day is a lot and I almost feel sick by the time I finish the second breast. But it's what Master wanted. And it's good to be full. Really really good (even though the more often I'm full the more often I think of eggs and grubs and we still don't have the caverns ready yet).

Master stands, pushing his chair back.

"Alright, Kar. Bed."

I cock my head to the side. But it's still light and I just took a nap. Oh, that's a big bump in Master's jeans. I smile, meow happily and tromp off.

It's cheating a little bit, but I take off my clothes and grab the towel. I can be bad just for a moment if it means he's owning me that much more quickly and-

"Karkat!" Oh no angry voice.

I turn and pretend to be sorry.

He's giving me disappointed face. Oh no, please don't be mad Master. And above all, please don't refuse to fuck me.

"I said go to bed! Not mess all this up."

I cringe and climb onto the bed. Suddenly his face is a lot softer.

"It's okay. You're still a good kitty. You just did one little bad thing. And that was trying to be good, wasn't it?"

I meow and nod.

"Alright. Present."

Oh yes, yes, oh fuck yes. I flip over so I'm on my front, raise my rear high and bury my face in the pillows. His hands are cold on my thighs but his breath is hot and warm against my sheath. If only he would… please please please!

His mouth presses against my sheath and only dives deeper as I swing open. His tongue is almost as good as his hands. Better right now because it's hot, even if his teeth are just a little harsh. I hear panting and swallowing and realize he's drinking from my nook.

Mother grub's third auxillary heart…

I rut down, trying to get more tongue, more teeth, more anything. Instead he pulls back. I turn and he's wiping his mouth off with his hand and licking his fingers. There's fog and bright red juices on his glasses. He pulls them off and sets them on the table but doesn't take his eyes off of me. They're big and bright and blue, but this isn't like the first time. He's not scared, not amazed, not taken aback. He looks at me almost like he looks at an enemy, like a puzzle to solve. He's strategizing, thinking of how best to treat or punish me. The only moment I don't feel him staring through me is when he takes a moment to rid himself of his shirt. Even as he gives his bulge a few idle strokes he doesn't look away.

Then he smiles and leans down. He's right in my face and his eyes are so big and so blue and I can't fucking stand it.

"How do you want it, Karkat?"

I have my mouth open before I realize it's a test. I turn my answer into a wordless whine and shake my hips. Master is smart. Master should know that I have an empty nook which means I want his alien bulge as deep as he can cram it. (Okay, maybe there is something to it when he calls me his 'perfect little slut.')

He soothes me, running his hands down my spine. They're warm now, warm and comfy and the perfect temperature to slip inside of me. Instead he walks around the bed. I feel the shift as he kneels behind me. One of his hands is on my hips, gently holding me steady. I close my eyes. I know what he looks like with his other hand holding his bulge and his tongue poking out from between his lips. If I look I'll lose it and I won't even really be able to enjoy the punishment that'll follow for denying him a good lay.

My breath is knocked out of me as the broad head demands entry. It's not painful, he's gotten me too used to the stretch for that to happen, it's just that the human bulge doesn't ask. It's not like a troll bulge, which probes, which gets permission from a coaxing nook and then rearranges itself to fit it. No, human bulges are big and rude and just come in. But fuck if he's not welcome. My nook is good at compromising.

Now that he's in he drapes himself over my back. I feel his heart thundering into my shoulder, which is distracting as fuck while I'm trying to coax my muscles to relax. Luckily, nooks know what they want and my folds inside are pulling him in even deeper. He presses his hands to my stomach, putting extra pressure on it. By bulge whips the air, desperate for something to fill and my nook gives him an extra harsh tug.

His laugh is rough and breathy in my ear and he presses harder. I whine softly.

"You like this, don't you? Such a good boy."

I twitch again and he laughs more. One hand's playing with my bulge now, but the other's still on my stomach. He bottoms out-actually bottoms out- and I startle. He fits in me now, all the way to his base. I feel like I'm gonna cry.

Then his hips start rocking, slowly easing out and in. I loosen a little more around him and then he's fucking my nook the same way he fucked my mouth in the absolution trap: hard and fast. I can't help but purr: the pressure, the speed, the angle, it's all perfect. Who's trained who, huh, Master?

But Master can't be challenged. He must have heard those thoughts, the challenge in them, because now he's biting my ear and pressing two fingers to my lips. I open and begin to suck in rhythm to my nook, slower and more forceful than his thrusts. It's a lovely harmony, one that doesn't bother mimicking and instead just matches.

I love him. I want him. I want to melt into Master, kneel here forever and be his little pet. I want him to fuck me and fuck me over and over. I want him to turn and press past my seedflap and come over and over until my eggpouch is full of his genetic material. I want- I want-

I want to be good for him.

He shifts just a little. Oh, that's-

Shit, I'm a mess now. The bed is a mess. Even with the towel, Master will be so angry. So very angry. But he's laughing. He's laughing and nuzzling me and still fucking me, but with the overstimulation it's a good sort of hurt. I find I don't mind when he comes inside of me.

He collapses, and I feel my nook start pushing the genetic material towards my seedflap. I purr and nuzzle him. It's not like it'll do anything. He didn't go past so there'll be no eggs even if we were genetically compatible.

His hands are on my neck, and the collar is off. I blink and turn to look at him. He pulls away and throws the dirty towel towards the laundry basket. I'm about to whine, but he lies next to me and pulls me close.

"Take your time," He whispers as he strokes my spine.

Take my- what is that supposed to mean?

"To get out of headspace, I mean. You're safe. I'm not gonna rush you."

Oh, that. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Words change in my head. Master becomes John, superior becomes equal, owner becomes matesprit and then matesprit shifts into 'boyfriend,' which is the term we agreed on to express our weird-ass quadrant-blurring relationship.

When I finally pull away he can tell.

"Good morning, Karkat," He says, giving me a little kiss on my forehead.

I hum softly. "Have fun?" I asked.

"Always. I never thought I'd be into that sort of thing but, wow. You never stop being amazing, Karkat. I love you so much."

I blush and hide in his chest. He means it. With that face and that voice there's no way he doesn't, and that means more than a million praises of "good boy" ever will.