#gamztav

Gamzee's lids stood at half mast, eyes roving imperceptibly slow as he watched the boy beside him try and explain the purpose of Oogoni-fuckers again. Motherfuck he was trying hard, just look at the way his eyes got all squinty and focused. Go ahead, brother, toss that bomb down and show him how it's done. "Okay so once the card is in play you toss one, though you have to have pretty good aim because--um...Gamzee?" Tavros winced when he realized he'd been rambling again. He'd learned through experience that with his tall clowny friend, he had to repeat instructions a few times--who was he kidding, a LOT of times-- before he'd really understand. Turning to check if his friend had been listening, Tavros jumped a little, an unsettling prick of nerves raising goosebumps on his arms. Gamzee had been watching him the whole time again, hadn't he. Sighing, Tavros furrowed his brow and fought against a blush, turning back to the game. "Okay now listen, Gamzee, I'm going to throw the Oogonibomb at the meowbeast plush over there, and--"

Gamzee shifted closer, face less than a foot away and Tavros tripped on his words, mouth suddenly going dry. He didn't dare turn this time; he knew what that look meant even without having to see it. "Hey Tav, brother," "Gamzee I'm trying to teach you how to play!"

"Come on, man, just a quick one. I'll be real nice, cross my bloodpusher and pray for Faygo."

...Well, if he was praying for Faygo. Stifling a sigh, Tavros turned and shot an annoyed frown Gamzee's way. The sopored-up juggalo merely grinned at him and leaned in, lips finding their mark with practiced ease. Gamzee leaned in a little closer, one bony hand reaching up with its spider-legged fingers to tangle in the back of Tav's mohawk.

Tavros felt his stomach turn with anticipation, his back stiffening some. Oh no, no no if he let Gamzee do this then he'd never learn to play Fiduspawn--!

Gamzee lapped his tongue at the lowblood's lips, fangs grazing over the tender skin.

Pupa pan help him, to hell with Fiduspawn.

Tavros's hands slowly rose from their prior position, unclenching from around his wheels and reaching up to cup Gamzee's face in his hands. His friend's makeup had a tendency to smear on his fingers, but Tavros had long since stopped minding so much. He opened his mouth hesitantly as their lips continued to press and pull at one another, the slick warmth of Gamzee's tongue immediately filling the empty space and roving, clicking against the back of Tav's teeth. The rustblood steadied himself, hands wrapping firmly around Gamzee's neck as the taller of the two trolls tugged back on Tav's hair and deepened the kiss. Mouths crushing almost painfully together now, it was all that Tav could do to keep himself and his vocal cords in check.

The same couldn't exactly be said for Gamzee. Dozens of sensations were assaulting the drug-addled troll's thinkpan. The smell of the sweat beading down Tav's neck, the taste of his tongue as it rolled and prodded with Gamzee's own, and most importantly the damned weight of his arms round his neck, pulling him in like a vice. It was enough to make a brother get his laughs on; and Tav played like he didn't want to up and engage in some midgame makeouts. Well, if a brother wasn't going to be all honest with his true self, it was up to his best motherfuckin' friend to force his hand.

With little to no warning Tavros felt the arms tangled around his torso tighten; Gamzee was carrying him and for a moment it felt so much like flying that Tavros gasped into his mouth. A chuckle rumbled up the highblood's throat as he maneuvered his friend and his crippled legs around so that their chests were flush, Tavros's feet dangling limp against his ass. Hands making convenient use of the current vacancy to Tav's ass, Gamzee raked his nails down the brother's back, scratching him all the way down to his upper inner thigh. There they paused and gripped tightly, the pads of the spindlefingers pressing, taunting the delicate muscle just adjacent to that most choice of behinds. He felt Tavros stiffen, arms jerking tighter, kisses more desperate and ah, there, the miraculous sound of breath hissing fast and hot out of Tav's nose in a healthy little gasp.

"Gamzee!" Shit, son, his voice was even cracking here. Gamzee let the brother's mouth pause for a breather, burying his makeupped face in the tense cords of grey muscle at the rustblood's neck. A grin stretched wide across his face as he kicked the door open to his respiteblock, feet stumbling around horn piles and discarded pie tins as he honked out a laugh and helped his friend out of his buttoned-up shirt.

            “You fucking did what? You idiotic bulgesucker, are you kidding me?” Gamzee had to admit, Karkat was being less supportive than he would have liked. Or maybe his moirail’s grating personality was just being amplified by the gratuitous quantity of sopor pies he had eaten that morning; hard to be sure. Still, he figured he at least owed his punchline-blooded brother an explanation. Popping his sopor-coated fingers from between his lips, he continued his story, his glazed eyes watching as Karkat’s forehead grew wrinkled with disbelief.

            “I went to this motherfucking club last night, bro. Vriska all up and laid all the info about it on me and I had just had this motherfuckin’ miracle of a pie, so it seemed like an alright sorta thing for me to all up an’ indulge in, you know?” A shrug and Gamzee was digging his fingers back into the warm goo of his pie. A vein by Karkat’s left eye twitched a little.

            “Jegus, are you seriously that incredibly dense that you would do whatever the fuck Vriska told you to? If she had told you to go and have a fucking staring contest with our blazing fiery asshole of a sun, would you do it?” The lanky troll scratched at his cheek, smearing slime over his grey skin, watching the vein twitch for a moment before remembering to answer.

            “Aw man, I’m not so motherfuckin’ sure. Sun’s awful fuckin’ bright to be all up an’ starin’ at it all the time.” The lanky indigo-blood paused for a moment, fingers buried deep in green sopor slime, before shrugging at his raging compadre. “Though, I’m not so sure that I wouldn’t fuckin’ do it if she told me to; you got to show some faith in your friends, hear what I’m sayin’ bro?”

            “What I’m hearing is that you’re a fucking moron, Gamzee.”

            “Aww, that’s kinda harsh of you bro.”

            “Big fucking deal.” Karkat shifted, scrunched into a corner of his moirail’s squishy relaxation perch and pointedly avoiding contact with the sopor stains that coated its surface. Why he wouldn’t call it a “couch” like any normal motherfucker was a mystery to Gamzee, though he vaguely remembered him saying it had to do with some rule or other about blood color. “Anyway, what the everloving fuck were you doing at this grubmunching club you’re flapping your gums about?”

            “Oh, yeah, I almost up and motherfuckin’ forgot.” A slow, easy grin spread over the troll teen’s face, his pie forgotten on his lap as he began his tale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Gamzee was more than a little dazed as he walked up to the vacant hive; Vriska had told him earlier that it had been renovated after its owner had been culled, and that the shows they put on there were worth his while. Not that he remembered the conversation in its entirety of course, what with the slime turning his thoughts into hazy butterflies all up and flappin’ around his nearly-empty thinkpan. Luckily, Vriska had had the wherewithal to scrawl the address of the converted hive on the back of his hand with some of the blue fluid from her 8-balls; the stuff shimmered on his skin when it was dry, so it caught his attention relatively easily enough, and with enough regularity that, if he ever lost his train of thought (which was a given, considering the troll in question) it would remind him where the motherfuck he was all up and runnin’ off to.

            Now that he had arrived there, though, he was having just as difficult a time remembering what exactly was supposed to be goin’ down inside. He had a vague recollection in the back of his thinkpan that it was supposed to be somethin’ like the best motherfuckin’ miracle he ever did part of, (though he couldn’t remember if those were his terms, or Vriska’s,) so with little trepidation and his typical lazy grin, he managed to make his way inside.

            The flashing multicolored lights distracted him for a moment there; the colors were reminiscent of his sylladex, and he had to resist the strong urge to yank up one of the overstuffed pillows scattered around just to watch the colors flash around once more. He hadn’t had much of a chance to use the miracle-dex any more now that the game was over and the item-collecting was through, but he still liked to break out the old thing often enough as a way of entertaining himself. Just as he was leaning over to touch his spindly fingers to the soft cushions, a much different sort of entertainment caught his attention in a much different sort of way.

            Tavros, decked out in little more than some leather pants and matching racing gloves, wheeled himself out onto the stage that Gamzee just noticed was occupying much of the interior of the hive. His would-be matesprit looked like he was going to vomit, and Gamzee genuinely felt some raging redrom pity for the brown-blood; he knew how harsh it was on Tav’s mellow to be all up an’ in front of people like that. Why he was on the stage in the first place Gamzee couldn’t even guess, but it seemed that there were a number of other trolls getting’ their chill on in the hive, murmuring to each other and watching as Tavbro slowly wheeled his leathered self around in front of them. Considering that Gamzee couldn’t tear his eyes away from that steadily browning blush even if he tried, he stumbled his way over to a low-set couch near the back wall of the hive, sopor-stained fingers flung wide over the cushy array of pillows as he swung his lanky self down to get his chill on too.

            It was a motherfucking miracle of timing; right as Gamzee’s sopored ass scooted itself into a comfy position on the couch, the house lights dimmed around him, colors fading (to the indigo-blood’s disappointment). For the split second that he was distracted from Tavbro’s fine self, his Taurian brother stood up (man it motherfuckin’ freaked Gamzee all up and out when his bro did that; he still forgot on occasion that Equius and his bad fuckin’ self had hooked Tav up with a sweet set of metal gams to all up an’ be walkin’ on.) and walked himself over to a glistening pole standing right in the middle of the stage.

            Now that shit all up and confused that highblooded motherfucker somethin’ good; what use was a fine-ass pole like that doin’ up there—and just what was Tavbro supposed to be doin’ with it?

            Of course, all these queries flew out the motherfucking window once Tavros strut across the stage and hiked his thigh up against the cool metal. The lowblooded troll glanced just once over his shoulder at the crowd—and then pulled himself up, muscles straining as he ascended. Gamzee could almost feel his jaw just drop right down off of his Subjugglating face.  He had known that Tavbro was a motherfuckin’ strong bro, for a troll so timid, but this was all up and on a whole new motherfuckin’ level. Then again, what the motherfuck did he know about how strong Tavbro was? He had only met the bro in person like what, twice? And even that had been years ago—back when the game was still all fuckin’ with their thinkpans and shit. Regardless, Tavros had certainly kept his upper body in shape since then, what with wheeling himself around his hive all the time. Although the metal legs were a huge time-saver when it came to getting in and out of his recuperacoon, they were physically exhausting to use, and took a lot of fuel to run besides. Thanks to them, his arms, pecs, abs—all were in perfect working condition for slinging his tall, healthily-muscled body around the pole.

            Gamzee, at this point, was trying to force himself to stay focused through the haze of sopor slime and the pulsing rush of the music. Each throbbing beat of the bass sent rippling shockwaves through his fingertips, each hushed drone from the crowd thrummed through his thinkpan and flushed his thoughts away like genetic material into a filial pail. Aww shit, wait, he shouldn’t be thinking about filial pails, or flushed quadrants, or how much of a motherfuckin’ miracle this whole convoluted experience was. How was it he had gotten himself on this couch again? Why the fuck were the lights goin’ all apeshit on his eyes? The questions flickered through his consciousness without leaving any memorable impression; the only things he could really register were the undulations of light across Tavros’s belly as his bonebulge strained through the leather pants to grind against his pole.

            It was motherfuckin’ amazing how focused his brown-blooded bro was once his body was moving; Tavros seemed to have no spare time to think about the flashing lights or staring eyes of the crowd. As soon as his legs swung up, gripping the pole tight against his thighs, the lowblood was all business. Gamzee watched the brown blush even itself out into grey, still glistening with sweat, and felt a dull throb in his belly; almost nervous, almost painful. He pressed his hand to his stomach absentmindedly as though to stifle it, though his attention was still focused on his bro as Tav motherfuckin’ flipped upside-down, his legs holding him aloft as he arched his back in what could only be ecstasy. The lazily hooded eyes followed every move of those huge orange horns, every twitch of the tightened muscles of Tav’s belly, with careful anticipation. His fingers gripped tighter at the pillows, sopor smearing over the cushion and staining it, the green fluid nearly glowing in the dim lights. Distracted by the neon glow, he glanced down at his hands—and saw what could only be a motherfuckin’ pail, just sittin’ there mindin’ it’s own motherfuckin’ business by his feet.

            The highblood felt the strange pulse in his stomach quicken, burning deep and low, and shamelessly reached for the bucket, dragging it closer. With every flex of that tempting lowblood’s back the image of the pail burned deeper into his lazy yellow eyes. Dips, thrusts, spins, each motion called carnal to Gamzee as he reclined, tense, against the low couches. The poor motherfucker didn’t know how much more of this miracle he could stand before reaching for that dirty fuckin’ pail at his feet. Something in his thinkpan stopped him, however; wasting genetic material—especially that of a precious, sacred Subjugglator—was illegal, worthy of an immediate culling. He was about to kick the bucket away but—motherfuck—Tavros moaned up on the stage and Gamzee couldn’t control his own fuckin’ self anymore. His sopored tongue unlocked his jaw on its own and a low, needy, terrible moan rumbled from his throat; his belly twitched with the force of it, and without thinking the highblood reached down to his pants.

            His bonebulge already rock-solid, Gamzee set into a steady stroking motion, his head lolling to the side as he narrowed his eyes at the troll on the stage. A thrust of Tavros’s hips and his own bucked in response, a harsh breath as Tav climbed atop the pole and Gamzee felt himself twitch in his palm. Just glancing at those massive horns made him want to praise the motherfuckin’ Mirthful Messiahs. He could almost see it; him, striding up onto the stage beside the lowblood, running his hands down his back, over his ass, between his thighs, raking his teeth over the soft flesh and spilling delicious copper blood onto his motherfuckin’ tongue. Gamzee’s eyes crushed shut with the thought, pulse racing as he saw himself taking his would-be matesprit from behind, the whole crowd watching as their flesh clapped together, his bonebulge thrust deep inside the lowblood. There would be sweat—he could smell the tang of it on Tavros’s skin, feel the slickness of his thighs as his fingers ravaged the taut flesh. Their blood would pulse in unison, their genetic material spilling onto the floor in their ecstasy. He would ride that motherfucker until the sun was all peekin’ through the motherfuckin’ curtains and it still wouldn’t be enough. Pure want coursed through his fuckin’ veins, the heat making his temples pulse and locking his jaw tight. His hands throbbed harder against his bonebulge, and his foot—in his frenzied lust—twitched, clanging against the pail at his feet.

            “Motherfuck, Tavbro,” the indigoblood grunted under his breath, lip twitching against his canines as he fought against the rush in his bulge. Gamzee struggled through the green haze of sopor and the red haze of need to glance back up at the sexy motherfucker onstage. Tavros was ascending for what looked like the final time, his face and shoulders flushed brown with the effort of hoisting himself up again. His lips were parted around his dulled teeth, the leather binding his thighs tight and flush with his skin. Gamzee could see they way Tav’s bulge was near to bursting, and for a split moment wondered if the lowblood actually got off on being watched—before he remembered his own throbbing bulge and stroked harder, slipping down off the couch and breathing heavily over the pail. He forced himself to look up again though if only for Tavros’s finale, the fuckin’ end to whatever the motherfuck it was he was watching. Tavbro—the name was on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it, aching for the end, to let loose all the miraculous colors of the Subjugglators into that motherfuckin’ pail.

            Finally Tavros stopped his sensuous climbing, looked out into the crowd one last time—and shot a beaming smile as he clung, breathless, to the pole.

            “T-thank you all for, uh, coming to see me,” His voice was stronger than Gamzee remembered; the sweeps had done him good, and the deep, ringing vibrato of his voice went straight to the highblood’s aching, thrusting hips. The stammer—that adorabull motherfucking stammer—was still there though, and it was that familiar tone that nearly bust Gamzee’s bulge into the bucket.  “Now…let’s finish this.” 

            The highblood almost froze, eyes widening as he watched Tavros turn his attention back to his pole. The lowblood gripped the thick metal with his legs, just below his bulge, dipping backwards with arms outstretched and reaching out to arc over the open air. The muscled, slick body spun so slowly that it almost hurt Gamzee to watch. The Taurian troll eventually reached below him to latch on with his hands once more, slowly loosening his grip with his legs until they were spread-eagled above him, his bulge still pressed firmly against the metal. Tavros twisted and spun, his speed gradually increasing, the gyrations of his torso more sensual with each thrust and pull against the pole. Gamzee watched, mesmerized, not realizing that his hand was following the rhythm of Tavros’s undulating torso, his fingers pulsing hard and fast on his bulge. Shlckshlckshlck, the beat of the music pulsed faster against Gamzee’s temples. His free hand clutched desperately at the rim of the pail, hips frantic as they matched Tavros’s pace. Finally, as Tavros performed his last spin—his back arching out and away, the sweetest of moans parting his lips—Gamzee’s voice rang out with his. The indigoblood let himself spill, a deep, throaty groan bursting from his chest as he filled the pail with violet. 

            As his hips bucked out the last of his dying lust, Gamzee risked looking up again at the stage. Head clearing, he focused his vision—only to find Tavros’s eyes locked on his. The highblood was surprised to say the least, but his shame had been stolen by the sopor. All he could up and offer to his lowblooded friend was a tired, satisfied grin. Tavros’s face—once serene and focused while dancing on the pole—bloomed a dusky orange, a motherfuckin’ miracle to the eyes. The highblood couldn’t help but fuckin’ laugh, a strange sense of relief tingeing his thoughts with lights. As Tavros turned away to return to the relative calm of his four-wheel device, Gamzee thought he may have seen a small smirk glance over the other troll’s normally-gentle features.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            “I honestly can’t tell which part is fucking worse, Gamzee.” Karkat’s face was flushed so brightly pink that Gamzee had to wonder at the fact that the motherfucker’s head didn’t all up and explode all over the place.  “The fact that you assaulted my auricular sponge clots with the word “pail” and “bucket” multiple excruciatingly god awful times, that you described to me the image of your flush-crush’s undulating body in minute detail, or that you actually had the indecency to whack off your fucking bone bulge in the middle of a fucking strip club!”

            Gamzee pondered this for a moment—half-forgetting what they were talking about for a second there—before a chuckle bubbled from his lips and he clapped a spindly hand on his moirail’s back.

            “Haha, motherfucker, it wasn’t a fuckin’ strip club, nobody didn’t even all up and strip or nothin’ bro.”

            “Goddamnit Gamzee if your fucking matesprit was grinding his ass on a pole then he was doing it at a fucking club, insignificant and circumstantial details aside.”

            “Aw, Tavbro ain’t my matesprit either, bro.” The indigoblood grinned at Karkat, swirling a lanky finger in his pie. “Well I mean, he ain’t yet; are you all payin’ me some fuckin’ attention, Kar?”

            “You know what, just forget it, fucking forget it! I don’t even know why I start getting myself involved in these useless discussions with you anyway; you’ll just forget it all within twenty minutes thanks to those disgusting pies of yours.”

            “Oh shit!” Gamzee jumped up, his lanky figure stumbling some around horns and discarded bloodstained juggling pins. “I all up an’ motherfuckin’ forgot about the rest of my pies! You want one, motherfucker?”

            “God forbid I let one drop of that sludge touch my taste organ; at least one of us has to maintain proper moirail etiquette.”

            “Ahh, whatever motherfucker, just means I get more pies all to my motherfuckin’ self.”