From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki

Consuming Hunger (MATURE)

Dealthagar woke, a hunger gnawing at his throat, burning him no less than liquid fire. The acrid taste of the raw meat he had fallen asleep chewing now clung to him, sour and foul. He rose and pulled his clothing off, throwing it in a corner for Sularis to clean later. He washed the crusted remains from his face and neck with the basin next to the bed. Suddenly feeling cold and vulnerable, he scurried beck into his bed and under the thick down comforter, nestling against her.

He turned over and looked into the face of the woman he shared his bed with. Inhuman, and unnatural, he could not imagine anyone or anything more alluring. As if compelled, he reached out and stroked her hair. She was a dark goddess, worthy of worship….and he wanted nothing more but to taste her again.

“Mmm?” In the darkness of the shuttered room, the stark kelly green of his lover’s half opened eyes cut him to the bone, sharper than any blade. He could fall into those eyes…drown in her gaze.

He pulled her into his embrace, nuzzling her neck. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She stroked his hair, and wrapped a leg around the back of his knees, pulling him tight against her. “Are you feeling better?” She trailed a hand down his spine. “It seems to be settling well.”

“You were right, the sleep helped.” He kissed her throat and neck, almost instinctively nipping at her neck. “Strong enough, I think.”

“Strong enough for what?”

“I hunger.” His teeth sank into her flesh, tearing it bloodlessly. The futility of it burned angrily in his heart. “Do not deny me your gift. Not now.”

The arms she had been cradling him with suddenly held his mouth against her neck like a vice. He felt her skin split and his mouth filled with crimson life. As he drank, time slipped away. He was lost in her essence, aware of nothing but the gnawing desire and need to consume more and more. Suddenly, too soon for his liking, the flow stopped. He bit and tore at her throat, the hunger untamed, but his efforts were futile, impotent and unrewarded.

He was peeled away and pinned to the bed, her ivory skin just beyond his gnashing teeth. “So this is what to expect from the Oracle of Control?”

His insides burned, and he felt that his flesh would tear itself away from his bones. It didn’t matter. Only one thing did. “I need more.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Really?” Securing her grip on his wrists and pinning them to his shoulders, she rotated her hips, straddling him, and completely immobilizing him. She leaned forward and lifted her chin, exposing her throat fully to him. “How much?”

He thrashed like a trapped animal, his teeth snapping at her, but just out of reach. “You WILL give me more!” His voice was a feral growl, his empty sockets wild, tendrils of the void lapping at his lashes. “You MUST!”

“No.”

His mouth snapped at her, lonely tasting the sweat filled air between them. Realizing he was getting no closer to her throat, he turned his attention to trying to bite at her hands and arms. “You will give me more! I demand it!”

She smiled bemusedly. “You really aren’t in any position to demand anything.”

Bending his neck painfully, he managed to catch a small pinch of her upper arm in his teeth. The flesh tore, but she only allowed a single drop of her blood to flow, just enough for him to catch the taste and the smell. His world dissolved into a red-hot ball of rage. Unable to form words, a primal roar of rage, hate and fear loosed from his mouth and he strained against her with everything he could. Kicking, bucking, flailing, he fought until the wild anger was suddenly overtaken by pain.

The night before had been painful, but it was nothing compared to what he felt now. His bones felt like embers, searing him from the inside out. His flesh felt weak and shapeless, like a gristly stew that had been overcooked for too long. His skin was like ancient parchment, threatening to tear away with every breath.

As he felt his innards rebelling, undulating, trying to expel themselves from him, she let him go, a look of concern on her face. “Dealthagar?”

He began to convulse, his insides twisting and knotting themselves. As he took breath to speak, he felt the rising bile. His mouth opened and he expelled a fountain of silvery aqueous sludge. She sprung from the bed, horrified by the muck she was now covered in. He sat up and retched another bucket-worth of the glop onto the floor.

As Dealthagar rocked on the edge of the bed, small gouts of the fluid escaping his lips, she examined it closer. Originally, she had thought it to be actual silver, which would have been problematic. As she rubbed it between her fingers, her brow knotted in confusion. “What the fuck is this goop?”

The technomancer wiped his mouth. “Arcane powder. Arcane gems ground to a powder. I’ve been ingesting it for some time now.”

“It’s holding a magical charge?”

He sucked on his teeth for a moment then spit the last of the residue on the floor. As he ran the tip of his tongue across the roof of his mouth, tasting the grit, he looked about the room. The shadows loomed deeper, hung colder. The rivers of entropy that flowed through the world that the Gift allowed him to feel he could now see. He was whole and unclean, as he had been before he left the Order. “It probably siphoned up the residual energies of the Elven sorcery that birthed my new body. The blood interacted with it, and forced it out.”

Opening one of the cabinets in the room, she took out a jar and began scraping the phlegm she was covered in into the jar. “Were you expecting this?”

He weakly shook his head. “No. But it’s the only explanation. I can see the magic in it, feel the technomantic signature to it, but the Gift of the Damned shows it contains no darkness, no entropy.”

“It could be useful.” Stoppering the jar, she pulled a second from the cabinet. “I will collect what I can.”

He rose shakily. “I will go bathe.” She nodded at him distractedly, starting on her third jar. Lost in her work, his loss of control was forgotten.

She had managed to break through his walls, forced him to compromise his Singularity. He despised and worshiped her in the same breath. All of this was worth what must pass. He would have everything he could want soon. They would have even more reasons to fear and worship Technomancy and the Primus. He would become unstoppable.

As the satisfied feelings pushed the self-loathing and anger away, the skin rippled up his arms, across his shoulders and down his back.

The price of endless hunger was well worth the reward.

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Original Post Date: Fri Nov 06, 2009