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Luka looks like predator despite his place underneath her, hooking one of his legs over her hip to let her feel him against her—he’s excited, somehow, despite the gaping wound she’s left in his chest. His heart beats steadily from the window she’s made from tearing into his body.
“Good girl,” Luka says, and he cups her sticky cheeks in his hands, flush with pleasure at the sight of her drooling mouth covered in his blood. He kisses her tear tracks. “I’m the only one who can satisfy you, aren’t I?”
He licks himself off of her mouth, lapping at flecks of blood still drying on her lips.
Hyuna thinks she might die under these hands.
Hyunwoo was a cake too—he smelled strong and bitter, black coffee and dark chocolate, and he was eventually put on a plate too.
He had presented before she had lost her sense of taste, and even then, Hyuna had never liked the overwhelming taste of cacao and the astringent smell that had carried from her mother’s cup in the morning—but from him, it was comforting; from him, it was good.
(They had always joked that at the very least Hyunwoo would be safe, that he was an acquired taste that not even Hyuna was born with—then he was gone. She had never wanted to be someone who’s gluttony would rob from others, not ever but...)
Luka was the opposite, his scent was light and subtle enough to be unnoticeable—vanilla cheesecake with a dab of blackberry jam, a mild flavour with a tad of tang.
It was an accident, her sense of taste had newly dissipated, everything had been unappetizing. The growing pains of being a fork had been everpresent. Luka had been there, and she didn’t mean to push him down. When she had regained her senses, her teeth had already been imprinted on his neck—a singular bite, she didn’t even rip out his throat like she could have.
Still, she had hurt him, she had assaulted a stranger who was just passing by—but everything about him had suited her tastes, the arch of his nose and the thinness of his lips made her want to ravish him. He had smelled so good her mouth had watered—she was exactly like the monster that took her brother.
But Luka didn’t scream and push her away, unlike Hyunwoo with his assailant, he didn’t cry when she had pushed him down. He had moaned.
Luka’s eyes were watery and dazed when she had tried to push him away, but his grip on her was strong, bruising as he had kept her in place, kept her from running. His smile made her stomach growl. “Good girl. I suppose I suit your tastes?”
Luka toys with the idea of using a muzzle on her when he’s healing, his once pristine skin is littered with pockmarks and holes—his recent injury is bad, she had chewed through the skin and fascia on his back until his ribs had shown, and he had came once her teeth had scraped against bone, shivering through the pain and the pleasure. He never does end up caging her fangs, though. It makes her wonder if he’s that confident she won’t kill him, or if it’s because he’s hoping she does.
Regardless, he has no preservation skills, and holds her down on his cock when he hasn’t regenerated his flesh fast enough, makes her choke on him as he spills down her throat so far she can’t taste it—what’s the point of eating if you can’t enjoy it? What’s the point of eating if you can’t luxuriate in the flavours?
(How is she the one coming undone when she’s the one supposed to be flaying him alive?)
She laps at him like a dog, consciously trying not to bite as he softens in her mouth—he holds her firm though, bucks his hips in an aggressive way that almost hits her teeth. Hyuna can’t get up, and for one, awful moment she thinks he’s going to force her jaw to close and swallow whats already in her mouth. She’s so hungry, but what kind of person would that make her if she did? What would that make them?
“Maybe next time,” he relents, as if he’s read her mind, releasing her as she gasps for air. “That would make it rather difficult to walk for a while, wouldn’t it? I have a busy schedule this month.”
Instead, he picks at a scab on his inner thigh, not quite healed. The blood flows freely from his saccharine veins. Her pathetic heart starts to race.
“Don’t worry,” Luka says, “I’ll always provide for you.”
Hyuna has no choice but to flatten her tongue against the injury.
“Good girl.”
Luka doesn’t like her around others, cake or not. He sticks to her like molasses, twines their fingers together. He narrows his eyes at anyone who lingers near her. There’s always an edge to him, even in the moments when he’s not using her hunger against her.
That’s why it’s odd when he pulls away from her, says that he needs to focus on school and work, tells her to spend time with other people, what happened to your friends?
He abandons her for a week, preoccupied with things that are not her, and Hyuna tries to tear herself away, makes do with sandpaper pizza and ramen that settled like sludge in her stomach—forgetting how she lived her life without him. She goes to karaoke with Hari before she dips out on their plans, burns her lungs with Lily while hunched over assignments, thirdwheels Dewey and Isaac just because she has nothing to do.
She ends up falling into Luka’s bed without shame the moment she gets his call, letting him fill her stomach as she gnaws on his collarbone.
Luka prepares breakfast for her in the morning after, the smell of flesh sizzling in on the stove and sliced thinly as blood starts to caramelize. When he sets the plate in front of her, he doesn’t blink until the meat has touched her tongue.
She wretches, stomach turning, rejecting everything that was just put in her mouth as she spits half chewed meat back on the plate; fighting hard not to waste last nights meal as her stomach roils.
That was not him lying on her plate—the taste of citrus is rotting on her tongue.
“Oh,” Luka says, sipping on his tea. “You’ve been getting along so well with Hari I thought you would’ve liked her. She’s going to go to waste now. I have so much of her in the cooler downstairs.”
Monster! something inside Hyuna screams, she’s not sure if it’s directed at him, or herself for being so loose with her morals—because when he approaches her, he lets her suck on his tongue, and her head goes empty as her stomach settles.
Hari lies forgotten until she attracts flies.
(“I knew I was the only one who could satisfy you.”)
Hyuna is voracious; she wants everything. She wants his tears, his spit, his sweat, his flesh, his cum—she’s so hungry. She doesn’t remember what it’s like to not be hungry anymore.
She contents herself with sucking on his ruined fingers, bloodied in her mouth as he drives his hips inside of her. He’s not wearing a condom, he’s going to go wasted inside of her cunt—she’s going to need to scrap him out of her pussy if she wants to taste him. But he enjoys this, Luka likes fucking her almost as much as he likes to watch her scoop out his offal with her hands.
It’s strange. She’s the one eating him, but the more she tastes him, the more it feels like he’s taking something from her. She’s feels like she’s getting hollower with every second that passes in this caricature of a relationship.
His first knuckle separates from his index finger and the noise he makes is sweet, as she severs loose skin to hold him in her mouth. She has scraps of him detached in her mouth, strips of his dermis caught on her incisors, so the rest of his fingers go free while she sucks skin off of his bones; feeling his teeth against the back of her neck as she widens her legs.
Luka wants to rips her apart too, sometimes—like he is now, wants to get the taste of iron and game on his tongue when he fucks her, grabbing her chest and staining her with his blood; even though it wouldn’t taste like anything but raw meat to him, even though he isn’t starving.
She could devour him right now, she thinks, she can have him lay heavy and filling in her belly. He’s hurt, he’s pleasured, he’s so used to her bending to her stomach that he wouldn’t expect her to turn around and tear.
“I’m hungry for you,” he says as Hyuna’s eyes start to water, “you’re the only one who can satisfy me.”
It’s Hyuna who cums first; shaking violently around his cock, swallowing as his finger becomes a solid weight in her stomach—he keeps going, past her hypersensitivity, fucking her until discomfort becomes pleasure again, letting her salivate all over his pillows like a rangy mutt.
That’s her line, not his.
Hyuna is starving, she’s willing to die under these hands for just one more taste.