Out of all the things Alfred F. Jones never expected to hear anyone truthfully say, "I want… to, erm, eat you." probably topped the list. Sure, there must have been something even more far out there (perhaps "I don't like nutella." would suffice?), but it was still mind numbingly shocking to hear the phrase uttered, especially by his best friend of nine years. "Artie, dude, did you seriously just say that?" he asked, betrayal evident in his voice.

Shamefacedly, Arthur nodded. As one of the few nagas existing in the universe, he found it hard to make friends, but that was mostly because he avoided such relationships. He had always known that he would experience these twisted desires, so he isolated himself from humans. A much younger Alfred had worked through his prickly outer shell. He wasn't the first to worm into his heart, but he was probably the last. The awkward situation almost made him wish his brother lived in England like he did, not Scotland. Despite being a right royal pain in the arse, he always knew what to do. "I did," he said, his disgust for himself blatant.

Unable to deal with the situation, Alfred fled, leaving Arthur to stare sadly after his disappearing shape.

Arriving home, Alfred dashed upstairs to his bedroom, without even saying "hi" his mom. As he sprinted away from Arthur, his mind had been a mess. Never one for thinking (he just 'did'), it had been horribly confusing to think it over. The sentence that Arthur had to force out of himself echoed in his brain, sending a painful squeeze through his heart. His best friend wanted to eat him. How messed up was that? "Alfred, sweetie, are you okay?" he heard his mom call.

Unwilling to worry her, he replied, "I'm totally fine! Heroic, actually!"

It must have satisfied her, because she didn't ask again. Certain he was alone, he turned on the computer. Google would surely hold the answer to his problem.

What Alfred saw well and truly shocked him to his core. "What the hell? Dudes seriously like this shit?!" he exclaimed.

Many, many hours after his original search (what do you do when your best friend wants to eat you?), he had accidentally clicked on a link that brought up a tab labeled Good Enough to Eat. It was a fanfiction, with a clear warning of vore. Being the curious person he was, Alfred searched this new word, which was why he was currently stupefied. The moment the shock wore off, he closed the tab. Out of sight, out of mind. Yeah, right. As if that would work.

When he didn't receive his daily visit from Alfred, it struck Arthur how incredibly lonely he truly felt. His woodland home was simply too empty without him cluttering it up, and the silence was deafening. He opened the cupboard to access his tea leaves, wincing at the sight of the small collection of coffee put there by Alfred. "Your instant coffee shit offends my cultured taste buds!" he had declared one day, and thus the now painful reminder was born.

Pretending it wasn't there, Arthur set upon the task of brewing a lovely cuppa to drown his sorrows in.

Sitting around doing nothing all day was dreadfully boring. Alfred had always found that days were he couldn't visit Arthur were torturous, but knowing he could and being unable to out of fear was even worse. He couldn't settle, no matter what he did. In attempt to be a proud brony, he had managed to sit through a few episodes of My Little Pony, but he was restless, and how happy everything was irked him. He tried playing the horror video game his friend, Kiku, had lent him, but couldn't focus due to an irritating incapability to think about anything but a strange thought that crossed his mind and refused to leave. What was the inside of a stomach like? Alfred ended up listening to a documentary about snakes and their feeding habits.

The knock at the door filled Arthur with a sense of excitement. Had Alfred decided to give him a chance to explain himself? Upon realising it was his siblings, his mood visibly darkened. "That'sss a right good welcome, that isss. Been workin' on it, 'ave you?" Logan remarked, inviting himself in.

Devlin, Blaine and Aeron followed, quickly making themselves comfortable in his living room. "What do you want, you gitsss?"

Devlin twitched at the insult, but recognised it as being said fondly and let it slide. "I'm here for Logan." he shrugged.

Arthur gave the younger of the pair of twins a quizzical look. "What, can I no visssit me wee brother?"

"No. You alwaysss want sssomething." Arthur said, with the air of someone who had said it many times before.

"Ssshockin'. Lookie 'ere, you cheeky bassstard, I jussst want to visssit you, thatsss all!" argued Logan.

Arthur would be damned if he believed it, but he merely sighed and turned on Blaine. Like a true blabbermouth, he blurted, "Arts, me houssse got repossssssessssssed!"

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?"

"On the subject, me houssse isss in danger too." Devlin suddenly spoke up.

Arthur decided not to ask Aeron, whose expression was too innocent to be real. When they were gone, he would likely find he was missing something. A knitting needle or two, perhaps. Aeron had recently started to use the wool his sheep produced to knit.

Days crawled by. During them, Alfred learned some things. First of all, he couldn't do anything worthwhile. He was couldn't think straight long enough. Secondly, watching TV shows about snakes was a bad idea. It made him wonder about what Arthur was doing. Did he miss him as much as he did? Lastly, the man at the door was related to Arthur. The dots didn't immediately connect, but he supposed there was some clues, like his massive eyebrows and green (though they were almost blue) eyes. Also, his scaly tail was another factor. Alfred totally didn't think he was a random stranger until he said, "Arthur'sss me wee brother."

"Cool. You gonna tell him not to eat me?"

"It'sss no me place." Arthur's brother shook his head apologetically.

"Dude, I don't wanna die!"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur's brother walked away, muttering, "You jussst 'ad to fall for a right eejit, Arts. He'sss no underssstandin'. No like Francisss."

Arthur had long since suspected he had gone crazy by the time Alfred worked up the courage to visit. He often sat by the window, peering out hopefully. It was possibly worrying to Alfred to find Arthur standing in the doorway expectantly, but he didn't give a toss. "Hello, Alfred, love," he greeted, nervously flicking his tail to indicate he could come in.

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred returned, stepping inside carefully, like he expected to be attacked.

"Make yourself comfortable while I make the tea and coffee."

It was a command, not a suggestion, but Alfred ignored it. "Nah, your coffee sucks ass! I'll make it myself." he said, in his typical stubborn fashion.

Never had Arthur thought he would miss the tactlessness of it all, but now it felt like something had just clicked into place. "Ungrateful git,"

It was said without fire, causing Alfred to grin. He too had longed for the familiarity of hanging around Arthur. Even it was potentially deadly, he made up his mind there and then to continue his visits anyway.

Over tea and coffee, they made small talk. Covering topics here and there, the subject of Arthur and his wish to eat Alfred was avoided like the plague. Alfred felt edgy, desperate to talk about it, but terrified of what Arthur might say. 'Heroes aren't afraid of anything.' a small voice in his head told and he tried to ignore it. He really did. But it was difficult. "-ening to me are you, you git?"

"Why'd you wanna eat me?"

The inquisitive question burst out of Alfred, rendering Arthur frozen with the suddenness of it for a few moments. Recovering, Arthur tried to find the words to explain. "It'sss… an urge nagasss get." he decided on.

Alfred took it the wrong way. "What? To kill their friends?!"

It wasn't at all like that, Arthur wanted to say. He wanted to explain, but he couldn't. The only explanation that Alfred would understand would be a demonstration. "No," Arthur managed. "It'sss not like that."

"Then what?!"

"It'sss… It'sss safe…" Arthur felt a blush creep onto his face.

Despite attempting to slow down his heart beat (why was it going so fast, anyway?), it stayed there. Stupid body. "Safe? How'd that be safe?!" Alfred practically yelled, feeling his face heat up.

It reminded him of those fanfictions. Not that he read them, of course. Heroes totally didn't read about people being eaten, even if it was magically nonfatal. "You're trying to trick me!" he accused, then immediately felt terrible.

He shouldn't have said that.

When Arthur looked away, Alfred was almost certain he heard his heart begin to shatter. Oh, sexy pants demon, what should he do? "Arthur…" Alfred murmured, quiet for once, and unsure of what to say.

Tentatively, Arthur turned his head ever so slightly, as if he expected Alfred to laugh at him. Alfred gulped, staring guiltily into Arthur's eyes. Normally a sparkling, intriguing green, they were dulled dejectedly. He felt horribly selfish, but he just couldn't see how this would work. "A - are you sure I'd be okay?" Alfred stuttered, staring down at his feet in embarrassment.

Gaze focused on the ground, he didn't notice how Arthur's face lit up. "You'll be perfectly sssafe, love." Arthur promised, slinking closer to him and allowing his tail to wrap around Alfred's leg.

Alfred jumped at the unexpected feeling, but relaxed upon realising what it was that had ensnared him. "But what about digestion, Arthur? I don't wanna die!"

"Nagasss have two ssstomachsss. The firssst hasss no acidsss."

"Oh," said Alfred, feeling stupid (and wondering why he didn't just say that in the first place). "I, uh, okay." he added, cheeks burning.

Arthur smiled, drawing him into a quick hug. He released him shortly, only to start pulling Alfred's clothes off. Alfred yelped, but didn't resist. His mom would probably yell at him if he came back home with his clothes ruined by saliva.

When he was nearly completely bare, he shooed Arthur's hands away to deal with his remaining clothing himself. "Hey, Artie, what should I do with my glasses?" he asked, trying not to let on how uncomfortable he was standing in front of his best friend while wearing nothing at all.

Normally, Arthur would have protested at the nickname, but he was so happy he would finally fulfill the dream that had haunted him for quite a while now, he let it go. "Put them on the table, love." he replied.

The world was fuzzy without his glasses. It had always made Alfred feel unsafe - what kind of hero couldn't see? - but with what was about to happen, terror blossomed. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself down. There was room for more effectiveness, but at least he didn't start shaking. "So… How do we do this?" Alfred wanted to curse how nervous he felt.

Arthur rubbed his back reassuringly. "Head or feet firssst, love?" he asked.

Alfred considered this. Head first sounded pretty disgusting, but it would get one of the worst parts over with… "Feet first, Arthur." he chose anyway.

"Sssit down, and try to relax."

He did as he was told. Arthur's forked tongue licked at his feet, tickling them. Ignoring the his slight laughter, Arthur opened his mouth and enveloped Alfred's feet. Alfred gasped at the sudden warmth, and had to hold in a small groan. It felt surprisingly good. Arthur sucked gently, being careful with his teeth. He didn't want to accidentally bite Alfred. The paranoid boy probably wouldn't let him do this again if he did. Savouring Alfred's incredibly sweet taste (it must have been the ridiculous amounts of sugary foods he consumed), he swallowed.

Whimpering at the unbelievable heat, Alfred felt shocked at Arthur's speedy pace. He was up to his knees now, and could feel Arthur's tight throat practically hugging him. The attention Arthur was paying him was almost arousing, especially with that tongue of his.

Feeling Alfred stretch his throat, Arthur moaned. He had forgotten how amazing it felt to have willing prey.

"A - Arthur!" a cry escaped Alfred when Arthur swallowed again, this time up to his crotch.

Everything past his knees was inside Arthur's stomach now, and he couldn't believe he had spent so long worrying over Arthur's confession. It felt so incredibly pleasant. He was struck by a overwhelming desire for all of him to be inside Arthur's stomach. Vaguely, Alfred wondered if this made him a vorarephille. It didn't matter, he decided. What was important was how amazingly warm and soft it was, like the slimiest hug ever. As Arthur consumed more and more of him, Alfred began to feel very safe and relaxed.

Alfred was an extremely satisfying meal, Arthur thought to himself, rubbing his bloated belly. A mixture of sweet and salty, his taste was exquisite. He really did hope they could do this again, but how quiet Alfred was being was worrying. As a chatty, hyper, overly childish teenager with a unique obsession with being 'the hero,' it was uncharacteristic of him. "Are you alright in there, love?" questioned Arthur cautiously.

"Yup, I'm great, Artie! It's real nice in here, actually!" Alfred said cheerily, with an embarrassed undertone.

Now, this surprised Arthur. He felt a huge grin spread across his face, "Hmm?"

"It's much better than freezing my ass of out there!" explained Alfred, referring to the cold British weather that had bothered him ever since he moved from his home in America to England at the age of seven.

It was why the British were all so miserable and bad-tempered, he claimed. Being boring was their own fault, though. Honestly, the main cause of depression here was either bus drivers, or running out of tea. Back in America, it was something that made sense, like the idea of never having a twinkie ever again. "Language, git," Arthur chided, lying down on the couch.

For Alfred, it was like an earthquake. "Woah, Artie, warn a guy before you do that!" he cried, unsure of how to steady himself without hurting his friend.

And he didn't want to do that. Hurting friends was definitely unheroic. His only choice seemed to be to wait it out, but it was very tiring. Would Arthur mind him taking a nap in his stomach? Probably, but he deserved it for freaking him out, Alfred decided, closing his cerulean eyes and allowing himself to drift off when all became still.

"Alfred, your snoring is obnoxiously loud." Arthur informed him, although he didn't mind too much.

Noise was something he associated with Alfred, and it was good to know he trusted him enough to do this. "If you can't beat them, join them."

And with that, he surrendered himself to sleep. He would spit Alfred out in a few hours. Maybe.