Entry tags:

digital devil saga

[Fic] Digital Devil Saga
Title: N/A
Fandom: Digital Devil Saga
Pairing: N/A (...Heat/Harley?)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1036 words
Notes: WARNING FOR FATAL VORE. Written for Yaoi Challenge '07.



The new words crowding into Heat's brain (the look on Harley's face was terror; the color of his wide, panicked eyes was orange; the taste of the sweat trickling down from his headband to the edge of his jaw was salty) were all drowned out by a single, screaming sensation.

Pleasure.

The hunger was everywhere, wrapping around him in thick coils that wormed their way into his body and constricted like it was trying to choke him. Heat growled low in his throat, and when Harley jerked back against the wall with a faint whimper, the sensation came again. It was like a sharp knife in his gut, twisting and feeding the hunger and yet subtly different. The mark on his arm pulsed once, twice, again, like a heart pumping the need to feed through his veins.

"I see now," Harley murmured, his head bowed. "There is one thing I finally understand."

Something had changed in the man's voice. The desperate, shrieking fear had been replaced with a cool calmness that made Serph shift defensively next to Heat.

"In this world," he continued, his voice raising to a crazed pitch, "it's eat or be eaten!"

Heat couldn't have agreed more, as he let the hunger consume him.

---

Harley's body fell back against the wall with a meaty thud as he lost control of the transformation and reverted to human form. He was still alive, but barely--his breath came in gurgling gasps, his fingers twitching ineffectively at his sides. Only his eyes remained active, flicking back and forth wildly, nearly rolling up in blind panic.

It was on the tip of Heat's tongue to say to leave him. After all, he hadn't known anything, and he'd be dead soon enough. There was no logical reason to remain. But logic didn't hold the all-encompassing allure it once had, and the smell of the blood beginning to pool under Harley made him bear his teeth in anticipation. The demon stirred inside him, urging him on.

Serph looked at Heat questioningly, then jerked his head at the door. He didn't have to say anything. His meaning was clear enough.

Heat looked from Serph to Argilla, kneeling on the floor and retching, to Harley, and back again to Serph. "Nah," he said, without really thinking, "I'll catch up with you. There's still some cleaning up to here."

The icy gaze studying him narrowed briefly as Serph considered this. Finally he shrugged and knelt next to Argilla to help her to her feet. As the two made their way to the door, Argilla's footsteps strangely unsteady, Heat approached Harley's prone form.

"Heat--" Argilla cried out, her voice strangely desperate, but the click of the door as Serph closed it behind them cut off whatever else she might have had to say.

That was fine with Heat. He crouched in front of the soon-to-be-former leader of the Vanguards and let a growl slip past his lips once more. Harley was too far gone to flinch like before, but he made a laudable effort at it, his shoulders drawing together ever so slightly as his hazy eyes took on a pleading air.

"You know," Heat said conversationally, bracing one hand against the wall next to Harley's limp head as he leaned in closer, "I think you were actually right about something for once, Harley." He closed the distance between the two of them until his lips brushed against the skin of Harley's jaw. "It is eat or be eaten. And you're going to be eaten."

A wet, high-pitched noise escaped from Harley's throat at Heat's words. Heat laughed and tugged back the ragged remains of Harley's mantle until pale, bloodstained skin was revealed. And then he bit down.

That same, sharp sensation of pleasure, nearly indistinguishable from the hunger, now, threatened to overwhelm him. He opened himself up to it and tore at Harley's flesh with his teeth, then his hands when teeth weren't enough. Blood was everywhere, staining his hands and his face and clothes. The white expanse of Harley's shoulder was slowly giving way to glistening red muscle and the flat, white plane of his collarbone. Heat brought his gore-stained fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, watching Harley's rapidly dimming eyes for reaction as he did.

He was straddling Harley's body now, his hips flush against one of the other man's thighs. And he was hard, so hard as he sunk his teeth into muscle and ripped. It was a physical reaction he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with, but previously it had been something to take care of quickly and methodically and ignore until it happened again. This time Heat found himself grinding into Harley as he ate, strange, snarling, hissing noises coming from his own throat as waves of pleasure shot through him from both his groin and his stomach.

The mark on his arm began to pulse again with the demon's heartbeat, fire consuming him whole until his hunger was the demon's and the demon's was his and it didn't matter which form he was in as long as he was able to eat. And with razor-sharp teeth and bony claws, it was so much easier--somewhere, giddily, in the back of his mind he recalled something about two heads being better than one, and he found himself in complete agreement.

It was a blur of meat and bone and hunger after that, too much and not enough and more sensation than he'd ever experienced before until a single white-hot moment when everything came together like nothing before and Heat howled.

---

Heat eyed himself in the cracked glass above what remained of Harley's corpse, baring his teeth in an experimental snarl. They were stained as red as the rest of him, and he decided that he liked it. It was fitting, marking him as the predator he was. Predator or prey. Eat or be eaten. On the way out of the room he stopped and grinned at the lump of bloody meat that had once been the leader of the Vanguards.

"Thanks, Harley," Heat said with a grin. "Lesson learned."