[Fic] Digital Devil Saga
Title: N/A
Fandom: Digital Devil Saga
Pairing: Sheffield/O'Brien
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 661
Notes: WARNING FOR FATAL VORE



Heat had always known that things went to hell more quickly with Serph around. Not that anyone had ever believed him. Now, with a bullet slowly burning in his gut and Argilla's screams dying to a wet gurgle, he found himself somewhat hysterically amused by the fact that he'd been right all along. There was a thunk behind him and a horrible crunching, ripping noise that that he ignored. Instead he focused on the way his palm slid along the blood-slicked floor until he found a purchase to tug himself a few precious inches forward.

He wondered how long Argilla would last the thing Serph had become. Gritting his teeth to keep from crying out at the sudden, stabbing pain as the bullet shifted inside him, his fingers finally closed around the foot of one of the chairs in front of the control panel. Relief shot through him--he'd made it. If he couldn't save himself from the bastard, he could at least do this.

The chair made a shrill squeaking noise--had it always been this loud?--and swiveled as he began the process of climbing onto it. He knew even without looking that it would attract Serph's attention. Fine. Let him come, Heat thought savagely, collapsing into the seat. The screen, spattered with blood and cracked in places, was still functioning, though the sound had cut off what felt like hours ago, but had probably only been minutes. That was good. It meant he didn't have to listen to the screams of a scared and betrayed little girl anymore. "Sorry," he gasped out, apologizing for a million things he should have done differently but it was too late now, too late and all he could do was shut the damn screen off so she wouldn't have to watch anymore.

He jabbed the final combination of buttons and turned the chair around just in time to see Serph discard a pale arm onto the floor. The thing bared bloodstained teeth at him in a parody of the man's usual mocking smile. "Fucker," Heat spat. "Come on and do it, already." And as though that was all the encouragement it needed, it was on him. Clawed and bladed hands gripped his shoulders as teeth bit into his shoulder like a bloody kiss. He might have screamed when the first chunk of flesh was torn away. It was hard to tell. All he knew was that when he was thrown from the chair and pinned to the ground, there was something fitting about it. From the moment he'd met Serph, the man had been slowly consuming him, stripping away his skin and his morals and his barriers until he could feel pale and spidery fingers wrapping around his heart and squeezing.

It was like all the metaphors were gone. The thing that was Serph lunged in and he could feel its cock, hard and ridged, jutting against his stomach, rubbing the place where he was slowly bleeding out. It hurt like a bitch but all he could do was arch into it, arch into the fucking teeth that were peeling his flesh away layer by layer and ripping muscle and bone to bits. He didn't need to look to know that his left arm was gone now.

Serph pulled back and looked at him, sightless and all-seeing and horrible and welcome. Heat's lips pulled back into a feral grin and he laughed. "I'm part of you now," he whispered fiercely. "Not ever going to get rid of me." And his hand closed around the gun the monster had forgotten on the floor, raised it to Serph's head, and pulled the trigger.