Work Text:
The theater was maybe a quarter full, with every other person no less than four rows ahead of their back-row seats. The movie hadn’t been much of a hit at the box office, and it had been out for a while now – they’d seen it three times already.
The actual film had been playing for about ten minutes when Vriska’s fingertips skimmed over John’s thigh. He blinked, and glanced over at her, but her eyes were fixed on the screen, a slightly dreamy gaze appearing whenever Johnny Blaze appeared. Smiling and slipping his own hand – the one not covered with buttery popcorn – over hers, he let his fingers interlace loosely and went back to watching the movie.
Another ten minutes pass, and at some point her hand disappeared from his slackened grip. John didn’t notice much, focused on Nic Cage’s glorious visage, until he felt his zipper being tugged at. Looking at her again, he opened his mouth to say something, but she was still visibly fixated. He looked down, then at her, then down again, then back to her. Her eyes flicked in his direction and her eyebrows rose. Leaning in to brush her nose against his ear, she whispered, “Aren’t you watching the movie, John?”
A shiver. He managed to stutter “But you’re—” before a hiss came from somewhere else in the theater for him to shut up. The troll girl giggled quietly, resting her head on his shoulder and going back to watching the movie. At least, it looked like she did. Awkwardly, the boy lifted his arm and slipped it over her shoulders, even as she reached over and finished unzipping him with her other hand. She slipped her fingers into the fly of his briefs and he squeaked quietly, hurriedly stuffing a mouthful of popcorn into his mouth when his girlfriend shooshed him.
John trembled as she grasped his dick and rubbed him lightly, unable to resist the natural bodily reaction to a foreign, yet somewhat familiar hand that knew exactly what it was doing.
He lasted about thirty seconds before he turned his face and buried it into her hair, barely dodging her horns. Wiping his hand on his jeans, he grabbed for her wrist, only to have it caught and to be tisked. “V-Vris—”
“Shush, watch the movie, Johnny.”
It might have had something to do with the movie they were watching, but something in his belly tightened at the nickname. The troll hummed happily at the sudden increase in blood flow further south and pulled him out to the air-conditioned cold of the theater. He made another small sound and burrowed deeper, ignorant to the actual instruction she’d given him as she began to pump him slowly. He scrabbled to grab her hand again and she squeezed him, hard, pulling a shocked yelp from him and another SHHHH from somebody further forward. John quickly lowered his voice to a barely-there, panicked whisper. “Vris please—“ Another squeeze cut off anymore words.
John gave in to his fate and let his hand fall slack against his thigh. She praised him in a quiet murmur and twisted her wrist just so, and the teen was whimpering and stifling a moan.
Another particularly harsh twist had him jerking and moaning out loud, except everybody laughed at that exact moment and drowned him out. Maybe Dave was right, maybe that had seen this too many times if she could manage that in one of the few comedic moments. He shuddered, torn now between his initial fear of being caught and the deep-rooted instinct to get off that was increasing in intensity by the second.
“Play with your balls.”
It was the barest whisper, her breath barely ghosting over his ear, but it held the same tone of command that anything else she said did, and his still butter-scented hand automatically lifted and slipped into his fly to cup them. The warmth felt good, and he curled his fingers around his sack easily. Following Vriska’s commands was likely too habitual, but it usually turned out for the better in the end – the very very end – if he trusted her. She purred more quiet praise into his ear, taking advantage of the fact that he was still muffling his own sounds against her hair. Her hand quickened and he whimpered.
“Please, Vris...” John’s tone wasn’t confused, this time. It was begging. Vriska smirked and thumbed the head, just barely scraping the slit with a claw, and his arm around her clutched her closer, the one touching himself tightening noticeably in a way that seemed almost painful.
“Are you going to come for me, Johnny? Even with all these people here?” When his breath picked up and his hips bucked up at the mention of the others, her smirk became downright mean. “Or are you getting off because of the other people?” He whispered a denial, but she ignored him. “What if I got on my knees right now and finished you off with my mouth?” Another buck. The chair made a sound a little too loud for her tastes, and she squeezed him tightly in warning. “Would you like that, Johnny? Me wrapping my mouth around your cock, letting you fuck my throat?”
“V-Vr—”
“Or would you prefer me climbing into your lap and shoving my skirt up to my hips and sliding my hot, tight nook around you?”
It took a moment where she practically heard the gears turning in his head, and then he pulled away from her, eyes wide. “You’re not wearing—”
The girl’s replying grin was absolutely wicked. “Of course not.” She stopped her movements and took his hand, guiding it back to her side and setting it low on her bare thigh. He’d seemed oddly pleased when she’d worn a skirt to begin with, considering how rare in itself the act was, but now as he almost overly-cautiously moved his hand up to the juncture between her legs, she wondered if he didn’t have a few kinks she didn’t know about, after all. When his fingertips brushed against her nook, she bit his ear, reaching back over to grab him and start back off at a furious pace. She was already wet, legs clenched together tightly to keep any genetic material from leaking into the crappy red cloth seats through her black skirt. Though she’d hoped that this would dissuade him from playing with her, she was surprised when he nudged two of his fingers inside of her.
A gasp, and then she groaned into his ear and clenched tight around his digits. John made a weak sound in return, and then he was spurting his meager amount of genetic material over the back of her hand. She slowed the pace, milking out the last of it, until he slumped against her and pulled his own hand away. Vriska nipped his ear, lifting her hand to her mouth and licking away the evidence, before snatching his and doing the same to his fingers. “Don’t do that again, you know it’s not nearly as simple to cover things up when I finish.” Reaching back over, she tucked his softening member back into his briefs and zipped his pants back up.
For a moment, John just pressed his face against her neck, panting lightly. Vriska’s eyes flicked back to the screen. Eventually his face shifted to it, too.
By the end of the movie, John had surprisingly dozed off, and Vris waited until the other seats had emptied out before nudging him awake. He didn’t say much until they left the theater, trekked across the darkened parking lot, and were safely buckled into the car he’d received the year before as congratulations for getting his license. “You know, it’s not fair that I can’t at least tease you back. This is the third time this week.” She wasn’t sure whether to label his tone more whiny, or annoyed. And yet you’re still surprised every time, Johnny? She smiled, though her face flushed a little blue at the tables being turned. At least he was learning to roll with it. Turning her gaze to fixate on some barely-lit thing outside the window, she huffed.
“Deal with it. Nic Cage gets me hot enough without you sticking your hand down there.”
John coughed, and started the engine, glancing over at her with a playfully inquisitive look on his face. “Well...then...what was that about the other night at the dinner table, then?”
Vriska’s eyes narrowed and she unclipped her seatbelt. John glanced over in confusion even as she grabbed his collar and swooped close for a kiss. It was hard, desperate, and sharper than it usually was. When they parted, a trickle of red was dripping down his chin.
She licked her lips, reaching over to pet his crotch.
“I really hope you didn’t take the bucket out of the trunk, Johnny.”
“Wait, wh—now?!”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one—” Before he could finish, she’d clambered over into his lap and silenced him with another kiss. After a long battle of tongues, she pulled back and he gasped. She cocked an eyebrow, and he reached up to pull her back. “...okay.”
The troll touched her nose to the human’s and smiled. “What’s going through your mind, right now?” His hands slid over her thighs, and he kissed her again, lightly, smiling at the vague reference.
“You look real good.”
She smiled back, and reached for the handle to lay his seat back. “Alright then, Johnny. Let’s ride.”