#gamara

The most shocking thing, though, was that she moved first. Gamzee liked to take his time before making a move; he had met Karkat when they were both two and a half sweeps old, and hadn't suggested pale until they were four (he thought about it almost immediately, but he didn't want to rush). But with Damara, the second time he came to his hive to smoke nip and ignore him, she shoved him to the floor and climbed on top of him.

At that point, he stopped trying to act like he wasn't into it, into her treating him like he wasn't anything special, since she obviously realized anyway. Once he admitted it, with her hand tangled in his hair while he half-sobbed into the pillows on his couch and she fucked him hard enough he almost bruised, she came over more often.

"No labels. I don't want to get attached again." Damara said, every time. He could live with it.

The other thing, much more surprising, was that she didn't even blink when he begged her to let him call her mommy. It was weird, something he learned from the humans, of all people, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting it. And, as a nice bonus, she never complained. If she didn't like something, she told him, and he never asked for it again.

"Please." He breathed. He twitched, hands curled into fists on his knees. She was slouched on the couch, eyes on her phone. Well, he assumed they were. Her knee was over his shoulder, her skirt over his head. She scratched his horn, and he whimpered, oversensitive. "Mommy, please. Please."

She had, easy as anything, stripped her panties off as soon as she walked in, dropping them lazily on the floor, and directed he kneel in front of her. Now, as disgusting as the thought made him feel, he could smell her nook, but wasn't allowed to move. "Why should I?" A video started playing on her phone, and he whined.

"I'll be good. I'll do so good, mommy, please." He shivered, leaned forward by an inch, and she flicked his horn. "Please, please, please, pl--"

Damara's hand in his hair pulled him back fast enough he got dizzy, and then the pain hit him and he whined. "Stop begging like that. Did you even seal paint?" Her eyes traced the barely-covered scars on his face slowly, and he struggled not to cover his face.

"Yes, mommy. Sorry, 'm sorry." He was whining, and crept his hand forward to wrap around her ankle, his wrist resting on the top of her foot. "I'm just, I'm so fuckin', I need it, please."

For a second, Damara looked thoughtful, as though she was going to just leave; and maybe she would, it wasn't like Gamzee was about to try and keep her without her permission. They weren't anything. "Fine. Do good and I'll let you spill." Her hand stayed tangled in his hair, and he barely had a second to think before she shoved his face against her nook.

He dropped his jaw, licking into her nook with a moan. His hand slid up her calf, to hold her thigh, and let himself focus on her taste and her deep, low voice as she told him he was a good boy. It made the skin on his head feel like it was crawling, in a strangely pleasant way, as well as her nails scratching over it. His bulge writhed angrily in his pants, but he ignored it. She would just get annoyed if he did anything with it.

Damara's bulge twisted against his cheek, over his lips while he pressed the flat of his tongue against her pleasurenub. Her moans were starting to get louder, more genuine than reactive, and he shuffled closer to chase them. This was, after all, the closest he had ever gotten to kissing her, and the more he did it, the more he wanted to kiss her.

Maybe he would ask her for it later, if he got a reward.

Time lost all meaning when he was with Damara, when she was easily, happily bending him to her will, so he jumped and almost stopped what he was doing when her foot pressed against his bulge. She pressed hard enough that it hurt, but not so hard he wanted her to stop, and once he was used to it, he rolled his hips against the pressure anyway.

"Good little slut. So good for mommy." She cooed, curling some of his hair behind his ear. Her voice was warm, resonating in his skull, and he shook as he spilled, so suddenly he couldn't even try to stop it. "Oh?"

He whimpered, and tried to keep licking her nook, but she pulled him back, the same hand that had been so soothing just a moment before pulling his scalp away from his skull. "N-no, please, I'm sorry, please, mommy." He could feel tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

"You're sorry? You made a mess, slut." Damara's voice was steely, and she pressed against his bulge again. "Clean it. Now."

Gamzee sniffled and blinked tears down his cheeks as he nodded, leaning down to wipe his material off her foot. It wasn't that bad, but he had messed up, and now she would never want to kiss him, he knew it.

"No. Mouth." She said, curt. Her glare was withering on the way he clutched his shirt in his fist, until he dropped it, and nearly laid on the floor to reach. "Show how sorry you are."

The rust of her prematerial smeared, mixed with the purple of his, as he licked the side of her foot. He had done worse, of course, and knew that she was probably cleaner than he was, but it felt different to have her over him. Her bulge pushed her skirt up, without his mouth to occupy it, and he had to look away. It didn't take much, since his switch back to sweats after the game saved him from the strangely thin material of his god-tier fit, but he was still face down, panting like a dog at the end of it.

"Good boy. Come up." She barely finished speaking before he was following her order, crawling into her lap with another muted sob. She wiped, carefully, the tears off his face, and pressed two fingers into his mouth. "Good. You did good. You want a kiss?"

He whined, nodding around the fingers in his mouth. Damara grinned, leaned forward, and spat into his mouth, ending it with a drag of her tongue over his top lip.