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As an Outer God, the Secretive Plotter finds himself rarely enjoying the delicacies other constellations do. Despite how he masqueraded as one– he had, after all, done many things to distinguish himself from the rest of them. Once, the Gourmet Association had extended an invitation. It was unknown if it was one out of friendliness or one to gauge where his loyalties lie. Nevertheless, he turned them down and kept his distance from most of them.
Before, ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’ thought that living over and over for thousands of times was a lonely thing. But having transformed into what he was now, he felt a new kind of isolation. None of the other Outer Gods proved coherent enough for him to converse, and going through the scenarios as an overseer dulled his thirst for action. Splitting himself into tangible other-selves proved useful at first– entertaining afterwards, but the novelty was quickly replaced by mania settling into his marrows.
No matter how much he accepted each version of ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’, there was something unsettling about talking to yourself after all. Luckily, they seemed to feel the same way and busied themselves with something. A group of them took over the kitchen, and over everyone’s meals, if anyone fancied eating.
After all, as immortals, they didn’t need to eat human food. Cooking excellently was now reduced to a hobby rather than a necessity. But the hunger… Never stopped.
He knew what hunger was as a human. Craving salt or sugar within food so his body could break it down into fuel to keep on living. If he tried hard to dig into memories of what life was before the scenarios, he could almost remember what it was like to scavenge thrown-out containers of day-expired food just as shopkeepers dumped those trash bags at closing time.
But as an Outer God, a distorted being with no flesh or blood, hunger was something more abstract.
It was perpetual emptiness that spread from his core to the very tips of his sanity. The way his throat parched with no amount of wine quenching him, the way his stomach twisted into knots as he fought with his swimming visions. Hunger as an immortal didn’t weaken one’s body like a human’s would, but it was another ravenous monster within you whose greed and desperation empowered you. Knowing no bounds, it longs for any sustenance that could pad his stomach– even just the tiniest bit.
Fables enticed him more than once, the Secretive Plotter remembered how hard it was back then to turn down the Gourmet Association’s invitation to dine. He had known what Fables smelled like, close to tasting them on the tip of his tongue back when he still accepted invitations to visit other constellations. It was a siren’s call, the way it changes each second as if it tried to figure out what you craved. From what he inquired about its taste, it was indescribable. Sweet as ambrosia, fresh as peaches; rich as liver, bitter as dandelion greens. Fables tasted like everything, to nothing.
The only point he clung to in stopping himself from ever consuming a Fable, was the fact it had no nutrition. He had questioned the constellations who invited him, whether the human remains on their plate could ever fill their stomachs. They laughed and laughed some more and told him a cruel truth.
‘Hunger…? What a human thing to feel.’
As Constellations, they only needed their boredom satiated. What did this mean for the Secretive Plotter, who now learned that Fables were nothing but empty promises arranged on silver plates? So he closed his eyes, willed the world to pass through, and watched on as the scenarios showed him the worst of humankind.
Until he found, Kim Dokja.
The anomaly of this world.
He was the first human Constellation guest to step into N’Gai, even if unwillingly. With all his indignation, and tantrums, Kim Dokja resigned to his fate quickly– choosing to wander around the domain. Kim Dokja troubled everyone and everything, from native flora to desperate Outer Gods that were desperate to try and swallow him whole.
Which sparked something inside of him, something long buried rearing its ugly head once more. Something that led to the Secretive Plotter sitting across Kim Dokja at the dining table he had wilfully set up within the throne room. He knew the other man was more than uncomfortable, with how stiffly Kim Dokja used his utensils, and how deliberate his jaw moved with each bite. Yet, the Secretive Plotter continued to watch, dark eyes tailing each subtle shift and audible swallowing as Kim Dokja partook in the meal before him.
666 had done a good job in creating a spread of rich foods, something Kim Dokja was definitely not used to eating. It was adorable, how the thin male chewed thoughtfully on the cuts of fatty meat, cut through only with sips of red wine that the Secretive Plotter was more than happy to refill with a crackle of probability.
The Outer God inhaled carefully as Kim Dokja’s throat bobbed with another mouthful of meat, a red tongue peeking out to swipe against his equally bright lips that shone from the grease of his meal. His own inhuman stomach seemed to throb, cramping up with each pang of desperation.
“Are you full now, Kim Dokja?”
“I– yeah… I am, thank you.” Then with a smile, he added. “I’ve always craved ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’s cooking.”
His vision was plunged into darkness as every artificial light illuminating N’Gai was snuffed out. Ozone burned through the air, probability twisting the world before them as plates were flung in every direction. Deep down, he knew he should have refrained from taking any action. But it was too late by this time. When the lights flickered back to life, the dining table had now twisted into hard vines that imprisoned Kim Dokja within.
The Secretive Plotter salivated at the sight, relishing in how the feeble thing writhed desperately so. “It’s no use.”
“I thought you had no plans of harming me. Secretive Plotter, I don’t think you’ll want to eat my Fables.”
Oh, how wrong he was. So, so wrong.
His chuckles soon morphed into laughter so free, one that had his lungs burning as he threw his head back and allowed himself that liberation. He couldn’t help it, Kim Dokja’s words were such comedy.
In the dimming faux lights above them, the Secretive Plotter’s eyes glowed as he stood up and loomed at the presented body before him. The helpless meal trembled under his scrutiny.
"Kim Dokja, I hunger for you. Not for your Fables but for you."
He didn’t wait for any reaction from the other male, nor did he want any. Pressing their lips together, the Secretive Plotter’s tongue easily pried Kim Dokja’s mouth open. Desire made his head spin, Kim Dokja tasted so sweet. Scarred hands moved up to cup the shorter man’s cheeks, to see how little Kim Dokja was compared to his own large stature. How easy would it be to consume him in one bite. And the only thing Kim Dokja could do was gasp and take it all in.
Roughly, he pulled up Kim Dokja’s face closer, sharp nails digging into his jaw– and took a bite right on his neck. Blood spurted from the punctured artery, and the shorter man’s pained scream could have shattered his eardrums. Nevertheless, the God continued to bite down. His own teeth morphed into sharper fangs that helped him tear into the flesh until he was swallowing mouthful after mouthfuls of warm blood.
It tasted like liquid gold, he could summarise that much. Constellation blood should have tasted like sewer slurry, but Kim Dokja was heaven on his tongue. His stomach warmed as the blood slid into his gut, and the aeons of desperation that haunted the Secretive Plotter faded momentarily.
“Shouldn’t this be against our deal?” his meal spat out, sounding incredulous that the Secretive Plotter would actually bite into him.
“I don’t believe I had any intentions to harm you in any way, Kim Dokja.” Gently, he traced a finger over the gaping wound. Probability crackled as his little finger faded away and seamlessly, Kim Dokja’s neck stitched itself without a single indication that he had been injured. “I was eating, just like you were doing.”
Cannibalism only happened if they were equals after all– and Kim Dokja was a mere fledgling Constellation with a broken body and even more broken Fables stitching him up. With a single flick of his hand, the vines trapping Kim Dokja’s body shifted, growing thorns that shredded the meagre robes that covered him.
It was nothing special, a body strengthened and broken down by Star Stream over and over. Though no amount of coins could cover up the signs of malnourishment evident in those ribs and knocked knees. Absentmindedly, the Secretive Plotter traced patterns on Kim Dokja’s thighs as he sat back down on his chair. Parting those pale thighs earned a throaty grunt from the shorter man, though it was easily ignored as the Secretive Plotter focused on satiating his hunger.
Again, he bit into Kim Dokja’s flesh- his thighs this time, the only place where there seemed to be tender flesh. The smell of blood overpowered any other sensation as he ripped off a good chunk of his meal’s flesh, vines tightening to ensure Kim Dokja’s thrashing was useless. White peeked out at the centre of the wound, where his bite dug the deepest. A gentle poke at the flesh surrounding the bone elicited another round of screaming.
As he thoughtfully chewed, the Secretive Plotter couldn’t help but watch the exposed muscles contract and flex with each of Kim Dokja’s movements. He was never really a sadist, but when it came to Kim Dokja, pain was but a small sacrifice to find out how every inch of him worked.
With another wave of his hand, another finger faded away as Kim Dokja’s wound closed up. But he could only imagine the pain lingering, seeing how his poor meal trembled. “Kim Dokja, you’ve done so much trying to save ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’. But what if this was the only way to save ‘me’?”
“You aren’t him… You can’t be him…”
“I am him.” It was far too easy for him to slip his blood-soaked fingers into Kim Dokja’s hole– perhaps it was the flexibility of a Constellation’s body. Or perhaps had he done this with the other ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’ before? Suppressing the dark jealousy that coiled around his chest, he instead focused on adding another finger into the hole, thumb lightly tracing against Kim Dokja’s fluttering rim.
Shifting their bodies, he positioned his cock over the poorly-lubed hole. His cock sinks into it, inch by inch swallowed by the tight heat. Kim Dokja stayed silent under him, though each panicked breath betrayed his true emotion.
“Will you save me too, Kim Dokja? Will you let me feed on you?”
The heat tightened around him, and he started to move. His hips ground deep inside Kim Dokja, feeling prideful at each moan that slipped out of the shorter man’s mouth. Rough palms roamed across Kim Dokja’s body, fondling his thigh and up to his ass as the Secretive Plotter continued his pace. He made sure to take his time, closely watching how his cock moved in and out of that lewd hole.
Once more, he leaned in, gentler. Kim Dokja shivered as his lower lip was licked over and over, and the Secretive Plotter knew that he was bracing for a vicious bite that would never come. Instead, he avoided Kim Dokja’s clumsy teeth and licked against his tongue, trying to taste more of that sweetness. His stomach stayed quiet for once, the monster in him slowly settling as he consumed more and more of Kim Dokja. His flesh, his blood, his saliva. Everything was for him to swallow.
It was like a puzzle piece slotted perfectly into place. Like a clock shifting its gears to its rightful place and could now continue ticking perfectly.
The hands holding Kim Dokja in place didn't tremble the slightest bit, and neither did the God break out a sweat. He was methodical; his hard, veiny girth pressing against all the right places in steady friction.
With their position, Kim Dokja could definitely see how his rim was practically stretched around the Secretive Plotter’s cock, hole clinging tight every time the God dragged out only to push it back in. His moans grew louder, even daring to beg the Secretive Plotter for more.
The God was more than happy to comply with his request, his thrusts quickening to fuck Kim Dokja deeper, harder. He could see tears clinging to those lashes, falling down the side of his face as the loud sound of flesh smacking against each other echoed through the room. Feeling his pleasure spiking, the Secretive Plotter growled again against the shorter man’s neck, lips pressed on the unblemished area before he opened his mouth and bit down .
“Kim Dokja,” the God desperately whispered out as he tasted blood once more. “Save me from this hunger.”