#cancest

Karkat had just arrived in front of his dancestors hive. Ever seince he had died, he's spent more and more time with Kankri. Then again, why wouldn't he? He had no one else. Well, that's what he believed. But this one time, he wished that Kankri didn't call him over. Why? Kankri had called him over when he was in the middle of a shower, but when he tried to explain what he was doin, Kankri said that was a triggering topic and hung up on him, ordering Karkat to come over.

And shit, who could say no when Kankri used that voice? A low growl, his voice deep. He wonders what it would sound like if...

He shook the thoughts from his head, sighing as he knocked on the door

"Karkat! I'm very glad y9u c9uld make it"

"YEAH WHATEVER. WHY THE HELL DO YOU NEED ME?"

Kankri began explaining why he called him over, a project or something. But he doesn't pay attention, instead he just stares at his lips. So soft, they move so much, he wonders what it feels like around his---

"Karkat! Are y9u even listening t9 me?" Kankris angry voice snaps him from thought as he looked up "WHAT? OH YEAH SURE"

"9k. N9w, where was I?"

He sighed as he continued, but his buldge didn't just forget. It started unsheathing as his breath hitched, squirming around a bit as he kept talking. The other must have noticed this because he suddenly stopped talking

"is that why y9u didn't want t9 c9me 9ver?'' he asked, karkat muttering Something that was probably a curse as he tried to hide the growing red stain

"I can help y9u kn9w"

"BUT YOU'RE FUCKING CELIBATE. YOU TOOK THAT VOW"

He nodded, sitting on the couch across from the chair "well yes I am, 6ut y9u kn9w, there's 9ther ways t9 reach y9ur climax with9ut interc9urse"

He must've saw his confusion because he chuckled a bit before gesturing for karkat to come to him, which he did. He put one of his legs over his own, and Karkats other leg under his. The smaller ones breath hitched as he rolled his hips onto the tallers, grabbing his shoulders

"HOLY SHIT..." he mummbled, the friction of his pants rubbing on his squirming buldge, he swore he could feel the others buldge as well as he soon eagerly began thrusting his hips, wondering how Kankri could even keep his composure. But that didn't worry him too much.

Soon, Kankri laid down, letting Karkat eagerly hump him as he began humming soft words of encouragement to him, one hand tangling in the younger cancers hair as he kept going until

"F-FUCK KANKRI IM GONNA CUM" he suddenly said, his thrust turning into rolling of hips as he bit his lip, once he got the word he immediately released into his pants, whining at the disgusting feeling, face scrunching up

⚠advertencia ⚠

Este cómic contrae siertas escenas no aptas para menores de edad

Y eso es todo lo que trae el capítulo 1 7u7 bueno seguiré dibujando para más experiencia rikolina.

⚠ADVERTENCIA ⚠

Este cómic contiene escenas no aptas para menores de edad por sierto yo soy aesy black 7<7 la cual sabre quien robo mi cómic porque esta firmado ahora si prosigamos.

He hasn't considered breaking his vow for sweeps, and the fact that he is considering it at all speaks volumes of his affection for the troll beside him.

They're nestled together, just two oversized sweaters on an even bigger pile of sweaters.  Karkat's flailing arms are making a mess of Kankri's essays; thankfully he keeps copies on several hard drives, but really--

"Karkat, my dissertation may be an exemplary study on hemopolitics but it is not an adequate pillow."

Karkat answers by slapping him with page 10, Kankri recoiling with a mock-gasp.

The rich bassline of Android Porn sets the stage for his performance on the stripper dance pole Porrim's installed in her hive.

Porrim doesn't think a thing of it, but you can't stop staring at him.

How can she not ogle his hips that swing like a chandelier or his ass that jiggles to the commanding rhythm.

Undulating like a snake, Kankri rubs up and down the pole, straddling it with breathtaking confidence.  The beat resonates through your body, willing you to move in some way, so you tap your foot in sync, drum your fingers on your thighs and pray to the pantheon that you don't sprout a wriggly right there in her hive.

Swinging a leg around the shaft and grasping it one-handed, Kankri arches backward, tossing his head back just in time to catch your hungry stare raking up and down his backside.

The contact is electric--or maybe it's just wishful thinking.  Or maybe you're just that hot for him.  Either way, it's embarrassing and you try to blink free of the trance but you're already on his radar.  He turns back momentarily to slide slowly down the pole until he's squatting; he knows your eyes are fixed on him, and that's exactly why he's bouncing his unfairly round ass that ripples beautifully to the music.   What a fucking minx.

And all with that damnable sweater on.

He dips low and springboards back to his full height, using his grip on the pole to spin around and face you.

Smiling playfully (fucker never smiles, what a disarming sight), he curls a beckoning finger to you.

Porrim, who'd been relatively detached from this spectacle until now, gives you a shove, startling you out of your seat.  You practically limp over to him, awkward in your own skin.  The music pounds like pure sex through your body, doing wicked things to your physiology.

Once you're toe-to-toe, he leans in close enough that errant wavy locks tickle your cheek and murmurs directly into your ear beneath the blaring music.

"Hands on the pole, Karkat."

"What--"  You squawk and fumble for the pole while he moves like liquid seduction, slipping his sweater up over his head and using it to lasso your midsection.

The fabric stretches (Porrim will forgive him) as Kankri tugs, reeling himself in through it to grind, hips oscillating, up against you.  Kankri's breath prickles the hair on your nape, his heinous voice as smooth as his motives.

"You didn't think our sessions would be purely scholastic, did you, pupil?"

A/N:  just a little thing that sounded better in my head

-

You can look, but you can't touch, and frankly, there is nothing more agonizing than being deprived of the one thing you want most.

Kankri doesn't help alleviate your anguish; if anything, he makes it worse, crouched before you, his cheek resting on your bare thigh, casually suckling two of your fingers.  He's teaching you a new lesson in the many ways he can use his mouth to infuriate you.

He cooks for you because he claims you don't eat healthy and your body deserves more than quick-fix grubsludge.

He clips your nails and paints them (red) so you're less inclined to chew them up.

You're dubious of his motives; it's not like Kankri is known for his sincerity.  You've asked around, and Kankri is definitely not one to dote on others as he himself recoils from coddling in any form.

"Why are you doing this?"  You snap as he works a brush through your hair, hissing as the bristles catch on matted clumps.

"This?"

Kankri doesn't turn toward you.  He simply keeps brushing your hair until it shines and dusts a wayward lock off your horn.  You fidget restlessly.

"This.  Caring for me.  You're not obligated to do this shit.  You're not my lusus, and you certainly don't pity me that way."  Your overactive imagination contrives an image of you two in-flush, and you don't know whether to laugh at scoff at the notion; you blush instead and banish the flustering thought.  "So why?"

"Because you never said no."  Karkat's thankful Kankri's seated behind him and can't see that his cheeks are emulating the lurid color of maraschino cherries.

"Because you allow me to be a part of your life, and that's a right--a privilege--I will not take for granted.  Every moment with you is a chance for me to get to know you."

You finally twist your body around to look at him, freezing beneath the disconcerting intensity of his gaze.

"Why don't you hate me?  I'm nothing like you.  You should find my brutish nature and lack of regard abhorrent because it directly contradicts what you claim to stand for and teach.  I figured you'd be let down by who I really am."

Kankri's flinch surprises you, and when he takes your face in his hands you fall silent, mentally bracing yourself for what he'll say or do next because quite frankly you don't know so you instinctively prepare for the worst.

"Who could ever hate you?"

Afterall, how could you possibly get along with a fellow mutant blood?  He’s just a spitting image reminder of how much you detest yourself.

Your dancestor, however, doesn’t share the sentiment.

He feels a kinship with you—the poor idiot.

He feels like you can commiserate in the hardships of being off-spectrum.

What does he know of hardship?  He’s soft all over and wears his—your—blood color on purpose.

It wasn’t an easy breakthrough; the two of you fought relentlessly.

You shed tears, and he kissed them away.

You pushed him away but he kept persisting.

And you cried again because damn him why can’t he just go back to being an unrepentant asshole with no redeeming qualities?

Underneath the virtuous guise, Kankri is as damaged as you.

Behind his righteous prattle, Kankri actually hates himself as much as you.

And it’s strange and it’s wrong but you take comfort in that.

The first time he embraced you, you felt… calm.

The smell of him, the warmth of him, the gentility in his hands, all of it soothed you so fully, so quickly, that it scared you.

But when you tried again to push him away, he kissed your forehead and squeezed you.

And it was all you needed—that final crack in your armor—for you to come undone in his care.

You feel safe.  You feel… validated somehow.

He cradles you, and it’s all red, but you don’t mind.

It feels like you’ve come home, and you’ve never ever felt like you’ve ever been home until now.