HUNGER

A/N – Hello again! It's me, the one unable to ever write any sort of meaningful author notes! But enough about me, here's the new chap where… well, things get even more ***-ed up. Again, if anything looks or sounds out of character, or wrong, or just implausible af, it's still me floating on the black sea of ignorance I've told you about the last time, so there. I have started reading the manga very recently, but as far as this subject is concerned not much light has been shed, I must say.

Also, a big thank you to my first reviewer for the amazing feedback and the help answering my question! I hope not to disappoint ;)

Warnings: substance use, disturbing ghoul stuff, lemonade (as in… with sugar)

Excitement felt almost like butterflies in his stomach and Uta suspected that it was bad news. He was always longing to be intrigued, but being cautious by nature made him secretly fear that this wish would one day end up pushing him to unwanted extremes. Sure, his life was creative for the most part, but even that got boring sometimes and his customers… well, at some point things had gotten somewhat repetitive. He'd grown to think that even ghouls weren't actually that interesting, let alone humans… until now.

The raven-haired artist was back in the kitchen, carefully cleaning his cooking utensils after a night of unsettled tossing and turning, and he was asking himself all sorts of questions. What was up with this investigator who looked so sweetly childlike yet so horribly messed up and… just awfully out of the picture? Was he some sort of fucked-up experiment of the CCG? He did smell human though…

Uta really hoped to get answers to all these questions and more, to satisfy his growing curiosity, if possible without getting any nasty surprises in the process. Speaking of which, the cuffs he'd secured the boy's wrists and ankles with the night before were supposedly sturdy enough to restrain even the strongest of humans, but if his 'military experiment' theory happened to be real-…

The ghoul turned brusquely upon the thought, damp cloth still in his hand, and nearly flinched upon discovering that the boy was now awake. Sort of, anyway, because his large eyes, currently fixed onto the metal instruments on display on Uta's tabletop were glassy and oddly unmoving, a clear indication that the drug effects were far from wearing off.

And they were red.

Crimson irises surrounding the widened black pupils, they reminded Uta of blooming poppies, beautiful, fragile and unsettling, holding the promise of danger. More than worth the wait.

Ever-so-carefully Uta moved, blocking the agent's view of his utensils and throwing a quick glance towards the ID card he'd left lying around. He'd forgotten the boy's name, just like he'd pretty much forgotten all of his previous thoughts, the sheer surprise seemed to have effectively erased them.

"Hello, Juuzou," the ghoul said softly. "Would you like a glass of water? Or maybe you want to go back to sleep?"

The agent's gaze shifted onto his face slowly, eyes blinking owlishly as he still tottered on the brink of sleep, and his lips moved, struggling to form words. "Fu…ghhhh… you….hnnn… ghhh… y'r a ghoul… Ghoul!"

"It's alright," Uta reassured him, reaching out to tread his long fingers through the white strands fanned out on the shiny metal surface. "It won't hurt. You won't feel anything, I promise."

The boy snorted, body tensing suddenly and squirming unsuccessfully against the restraints. There was viciousness in that small body, but the drug had fortunately taken most of his energy, the raven-haired artist noted with relief. Like this, there was no chance of his prey escaping, even if he was awake.

"YOU FUCKING GHOUL!" Juuzou spat, clearly this time, not scared but angry, those red eyes burning with all the fires of Hell.

But Uta was enthralled by the sight and completely unfazed by the insult, plopping into a stool he'd dragged by the table side with an absent hand.

"Your eyes… are so beautiful!" he breathed. "I must-… I will keep them!"

"FUCK YOU! FU-"

Uta leaned in to inspect the doll-like face from up close, squeezing the plump cheeks between his fingers. This was unreal! "What are you?" he murmured, taking in every feature with avid eyes, as if trying to commit all to memory. Sadly, the petite dove offered the same two-word profanity in reply to his question.

Well, this wouldn't do.

The ghoul turned around in his chair and chose a miniscule, razor-sharp scalpel from the countertop, and gave it a quick spin between his long, pale fingers before bringing it below the agent's chin.

"I would like you to answer my questions," he said, in the same even tone. "It's not that much to ask of you, but if you don't I'm afraid there will be pain."

Juuzou's lips curled into a slight but gleeful smirk. "I don't feel any pain."

The other's black eyes widened instantly, trailing from the pale face to the row of stitches gruesomely decorating the boy's thin neck and disappearing under the sheet. He ran his fingertips over the red thread pattern and the stringy plastic feel of it sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

"So these… I thought you enjoyed hurting yourself, because I figured out they must be your own doing. See, there are none on your back and-…" Uta explained, licking his lips briefly. "But if you don't feel pain… How do you not feel pain?! Are you some sort of experiment?! What has the CCG done to you?"

"…wha-"

"What about other things?" the ghoul pressed. "Can you feel other things? Do you touch yourself?"

Maybe that question was absurd, Uta pondered immediately afterwards. If the boy was indeed the result of some sinister lab work, perhaps his functionality was limited to his intended purpose and nothing else. Otherwise, he could not fathom why the lack of pain, why those scars and missing parts. It made no sense. And even so, why would something so beautiful not be able to… or perhaps he was missing something here?

"Did you ever come?"

How old was this kid again? The ID card said nineteen, but it must have been bullshit, he didn't look more than fourteen at best. Also, Uta's last question was met with a puzzled glance which said it all and managed to make him feel a tad stupid in turn – because without knowing the meaning it did sound like a dumb question after all. But still…

"I want to see you come," the raven-haired artist thought out loud, inspecting Juuzou's confused expression. Admittedly, he didn't have much to work with, but he would give it a try nevertheless. Uta liked experimentations of this kind and this boy, well, let's simply say that he was a beautiful instrument worth playing.

Long fingers cupped the round, doll-like cheek as the ghoul slipped his other hand under the sheet, blindly ghosting his warm fingertips over the small body. It was better like this – touching without seeing – just smooth exploration of flesh upon flesh, Uta was good with his fingers, loved the richness of textures and subtlety of shapes, it brought a deeper comprehension, even when it came to his creations.

"No, no, look at me," he pleaded softly when Juuzou gasped, pale lips parting in utter surprise and beginning to look genuinely frightened now.

The ghoul observed him in awe, fingers pressing, rubbing and squeezing, fascinated by the expressions passing over the boy's chalk-white face at the sensations which were obviously unfamiliar, enjoyable yet so scary. And when those gorgeous red eyes widened, pupils expanding until Uta could almost see his own reflection in them, he couldn't resist any longer. He leaned in brusquely and pressed his lips aggressively against the small mouth, pushing his tongue inside.

Juuzou may have smelled appetizingly, but his taste was divine. His innocence was intoxicating.

"I must have you. I-I'm sorry, but-… I will take you now."

Uta's face was pressed into the crook of the boy's small neck, listening to that steady rhythm in the still panting chest. Gaze trained absently onto the discarded sheet and clothing on the floor, he rubbed circles on the agent's shoulder, thin under his fingers, like bird bones. Juuzou's body felt deliciously warm under his own now that they lay skin on skin, slender thighs still pressed against the ghoul's hips.

"Why?! Why must you be human?" the raven-haired artist murmured. "If only you weren't… if… I wish we could-…"

They could what, exactly? To begin with, the boy's eyes would not have held that unmistakable hint of aversion and disgust for him, still present despite the confusion of the unexpected and unfamiliar pleasure. And in turn, Uta wouldn't feel this profane, this accursed hunger which tainted the pure appreciation of the other's beauty.

Because now, lust spent, he was hungry. No, he was ravenous. And he knew, no matter what, hunger would always win. Hunger would always consume him and take away everything that was important, everything could have been precious and worth keeping in his life… like this exquisitely beautiful boy.

I can live neither with, nor without you…

Absently, Uta reached for the scalpel abandoned on the tabletop and gripped it lightly, like he would a pencil or brush. Still, it had no such grace and no finesse in its strokes. It plunged into flesh with a sickening sound and the smell of blood filled the ghoul's nostrils, bringing about the usual feeling of exhilaration and defeat.

End of chapter

Yes, I did this. I did.