A/N: Apparently after, like, 8 years I'm back on my bullshit. Happy 13th anniversary to DotNW/ToS-R, this is my gift/curse to the fandom. The game is officially old enough to yell at me on twitter to follow in Bad End Emil's footsteps for writing this kind of stuff!
Content Warning: This fic contains same-size, soft, non-fatal, oral vore. If you're not sure what that means check my profile before you google for a brief summary/idea of what I work with. Don't like, don't read. This fic also contains implied past abuse.
Disclaimer: All abilities featured in this work are fictional. Do not attempt at home.
Glancing nervously at the older man, Emil notes the faint wince Richter tries to suppress. He frowns to himself, feeling a little bad-he knows exactly what Richter's current problem is, of course, he's seen the looks the other has been giving him as they make their way through the Mausoleum in search of that tombstone or whatever it is Richter is looking for.
It isn't really that hard to figure out-Richter being a pred and all, and Emil is (unfortunately) very familiar with the occasional urges and needs such people experience. He nervously runs one hand along his other arm, shuffling slightly as Richter pauses in his stride to look back his way. Emil blinks up at the redhead, offering a small smile.
"Is there something wrong, Emil?"
Shaking his head Emil glances away again, not really sure how to proceed. He doesn't particularly want Richter suffering, but he's very nervous about offering to ease the other's discomfort himself. If they make quick work of this, Richter can simply head off to town and find someone he can hire to help him out for a half hour or so, Emil supposes. He shakes himself a little and moves closer, trying to look ready to keep going.
"Nothing's wrong, Richter. I-I was just thinking, it's nothing."
"...Alright, then. Keep up."
Emil does, at first, watching Richter out of the corner of his eye. He notices the occasional glance from the other, becoming more frequent for a bit before abruptly stopping-which surprises Emil. He begins to trail slightly behind, wondering what caused Richter to start pointedly ignoring his presence. It isn't as if Richter's problem has just stopped, that isn't how it works-besides, Emil watches him closely, noting the almost automatic way a hand twitches up towards his stomach for a moment before returning to his side.
Is… Richter trying to avoid making me uncomfortable, maybe? Richter is kind… And it has to be obvious how nervous he is, alone with a pred who clearly needs a (hopefully temporary) snack.. Emil keeps his silence on the matter, though, trying to stay out of Richter's way and help him with his search so they can leave and Richter can get his issues taken care of.
Except it's starting to interfere with his ability to fight-Emil barely manages to break free of engaging with a monster on his own to intercept a blow that would have opened Richter's torso up for all to see if had landed. This is becoming too much of a problem-he can't let Richter get himself hurt trying to ignore his issues like this!
After they finally clear the area, Emil reaches out a hand to grab Richter's sleeve, trying very hard to keep himself from trembling like a leaf in the wind
"R-Richter, wait."
"What is it?" Richter's voice is tight, discomfort bordering on pain evident in it and the way his body is held stiffly at attention.
Emil takes a slow, deep breath. "U-um. Ri-Richter, I…"
"We don't have time for you to waste, say what you want or let's keep going."
Emil flinches, trying to work up his courage for a moment before taking a steadying breath. "R-Richter, you're, um… Hungry right?" The emphasis on the word makes sure it's clear he doesn't just mean for normal food.
Emil watches Richter stiffen further, taking a sharp breath in and staring at him. The man is silent for almost an entire minute before he gives a short, sharp nod.
"Th-then… L-let me help you."
Silence falls between them again for a moment before Emil feels Richter's arm pull from his grip, and he watches the other move towards the wall of the hallway they're in and slide down to sit at its base. A soft pat on the ground in front of him indicates Richter wants Emil to join him, and Emil shuffles over to lower himself before the other.
I… I'm actually doing this. I… I'm going to be e-eaten, a-and I offered…
Emil pushes back his unease as best he can, fighting to keep his breathing steady as he lifts his arms and begins to slowly unwind his scarf, letting it slide to the ground behind him. Hands shaking faintly, he begins to unbuckle his sword and pack, pushing them into a small pile with the scarf and his gloves slip off next. Emil forces himself to not think about what he's doing as he undoes and removes the top, and finally-fumbling a bit from nerves-undoes and removes his pants and shoes, sitting naked before the redhead.
Emil offers Richter a nervous smile watching as Richter stares at him with an extremely unnerving intensity, a need burning in his eyes that Emil is still very wary about satisfying. But he's offered… There's no taking that back now.
"U-um, you… P-promise to let me out?" A slight pause before remembering that being specific is the only way to ensure safety when negotiating these sorts of things and then, "S-same way I go in? Same c-condition?"
Richter simply blinks at him, a faintly confused look on his face that smoothes away almost immediately before a simple "I promise to let you out" answers his questions.
Emil tenses and barely stops himself from beginning to tremble. That isn't quite what he asked: all he's gotten is a promise of exiting the other's body, he hasn't gotten a promise that he'll do so safely or intact-or even alive. Emil swallows hard, his hand pressing lightly against a shiny scar across the outside of one thigh, rubbing it uneasily. It's one of several such patches on his skin.
Taking a deep breath, he decides there's nothing for it but to keep going-and prays that Richter isn't looking for a proper meal.
"I-I'm ready…"
A quick nod from Richter is all the warning he gets before a hand reaches out to tug his head in. Emil squeezes his eyes shut as Richter's jaws part and he feels his face being pulled into that hot, wet mouth. A soft brush against his cheek as Richter licks gently at him brings the reality home to him that this is, actually, happening and he bites back a whimper.
It's only moments before he feels Richter's arms gripping his torso strongly, pushing forwards and his head begins to slide into the much tighter confines of Richter's throat. The muscles grip him firmly, pulling him down with each powerful swallow from the other. It takes all his strength to keep from shaking, afraid as he is, as at last his face begins to push into the slightly roomier space within Richter that is the other man's stomach.
I-it's… Empty? Relief causes his muscles to go slack, earning him a muffled, surprised noise as Richter has to readjust his grip to support him. But Emil can't bring himself to care-at least for the moment he's safe, even if it won't necessarily last. It's certainly nicer than the face full of acid he's learned to expect from past experiences. He doesn't really have long to dwell on that as more of his body slips in, surprisingly large quantities of saliva pooling around him. Richter's mouth must be watering like crazy, do I really taste that good? Or… O-or is he just that hungry?
He squirms a little, earning a quiet moan around his legs, and settles again to wait for the rest of him to join him in the stomach. It's only a few moments later before his feet slip in beside him and he feels the sphincter close after his toes, locking him into his new home-though hopefully not a permanent place of residence.
"You taste great, Emil" sounds from around and above him, accompanied by several firm pats to the stomach from outside. "Been… A long time since I had such a good meal."
Emil wilts at the wording, any hope he has of escaping unscathed dissolving as he feels Richter's hands press more firmly against him, stroking at him as Richter enjoys his full gut. Still, maybe if he makes this pleasurable for Richter he can at least avoid a painful ending… Emil begins to squirm, wriggling about and pressing himself against the confining walls that surround and grip him snugly.
There isn't a lot of space to move around, but the fleshy confines stretch around him easily enough to shift his position and press back against the surrounding walls. He rubs his head and hands along the slick, powerful muscles as he listens to the soft grunts and quiet moans of the pred around him-small noises of pleasure and satisfaction. Emil can feel Richter's hands pressing on him, massaging him from the outside as the other enjoys the feel of a live snack in his gut.
Finally, exhausted, Emil curls into a ball, the walls around him pressing in tightly and firm pats from without resting upon his head.
"That… Felt amazing, Emil. My stomach feels much better with you in it, you have my thanks."
"I-I'm glad, Richter…" He smiles weakly, enjoying the praise but regretting that it's likely to be the last he gets. He remains loosely curled up, the minutes dragging by in silence as he waits to begin feeling the tingling, burning sensation of acid on his skin.
It never comes.
Richter sighs happily, hands roaming slowly over the stretched expanse of skin that is his overstuffed stomach, tracing out the outline of the blond within. He had definitely wondered what it would feel like to have Emil inside him, but he hadn't planned to ask -it's plain as day that Emil is a nervous wreck around him.
He's been trying to ignore the growing need to have Emil inside him, squirming and pressing out against his flesh, filling his empty belly up completely. And when Emil had offered… He couldn't resist taking the blond up even though he knew Emil was still nervous. Richter hopes that promising safety to Emil and his own attempts to keep his body treating it's temporary occupant gently would reassure him.
It seems to have-Emil's movements, while strong, aren't the terrified thrashing of prey that fears for its life. They're simply the movements of a helpful prey, filling a need for a pred. Eventually the blond settles down inside him, and Ricther rests against the wall, eyes closing, softly patting his midsection as he hopes Emil won't want to come back out too quickly.
After a while, he isn't sure quite how long, he feels a soft stirring in his stomach and runs a hand against Emil again. A quiet voice, somewhat muffled by layers of skin, muscle, and some fat reaches him and makes him frown at how tentative it sounds.
"R-Richter…?"
"Hm? Something wrong, Emil?"
"M-may I... Ask a favor?"
"Of course, I owe you that much after your assistance, after all."
A beat of silence meets his words followed by a very small voice asking, "W-will you… M-make it painless?"
Richter blinks down at his belly, confused, trying to figure out what the hell Emil could be referring to. "What are you talking about?"
More silence, then, "W-well, you're done with me right? You're s-stomach feels better? So... You don't n-need me moving in here anymore… S-so… Please, don't l-let it hurt… Wh-when you d-digest me…"
Richter goes very, very still, shocked by Emil's assumption. "I promised I'd let you out, why the hell would you think I'd do that to you?"
He feels Emil curl a little more tightly into a ball, trembling. He's… Terrified… Richter feels unease and guilt at failing to realize how frightened of the idea Emil must have been this entire time starting to thread through him.
"You di-didn't promise I'd be safe…"
"How else do you take 'I promise to let you out' if not that you'll be fine?"
"F-food comes out e-eventually…"
His gut churns uneasily, pressing uncomfortably tightly against its blond passenger and forcing Richter to take deep breaths to try and control himself, disgust and horror at the mere suggestion flooding through him and threatening to forcibly evict his temporary tenant. How the hell is that his first thought? Why would he- and his train of thought abruptly halts at the worst possible station.
"You... Have experience with the kind of person that plays those sorts of word games, don't you?"
Silence stretches by for thirty seconds or so before a soft, "Yes…" reaches his ears.
A brief memory flashes through his mind's eye, various shiny, scarred patches on Emil's skin-scars he'd taken as remnants of wounds from the burning of Palmacosta during the Blood Purge. Scars he's just now realizing came from a very different sort of burn. His gut churns uneasily again, and he can't stop it.
"S-sometimes, when he'd get angry… M-my uncle…"
Richter leans forwards, stomach clenching tightly and violently shoving his companion back up his throat, expelling a very startled Emil and he turns to the side, retching, dry heaves wracking him at the thought of what Emil's been through, unable to understand how Emil could ever have offered to do this for him in the first place. It takes several minutes for his body to settle again.
Richter turns and looks at Emil, eyes filled with the same pity and horror that adds a slight tremor to his voice.
"I'm… Sorry."