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Driller watched as the last of the glyphid grunts burnt up, as his trail of sticky flames flickered out. Body aching from multiple bites, his shoulders slumped with a sigh.
That wave had been particularly nasty, and while he’d managed to avoid getting downed, he was definitely worse for wear, feeling pretty low health-wise.
Usually he'd grab a glyphid carcass before it bled out, and drink its juices for a decent pick-me-up. Unfortunately for him, all the bodies near him had burnt up in the flames of his CRSPR flamethrower, and all the remaining red sugar hung from the ceiling, as if taunting him.
He was about to grin and bear the damage until their next resupply, when Scout grappled nearby.
His fellow dwarf seemed to be in good condition, likely avoiding glyphid jaws with his high mobility, or replenished himself with the red sugar crystals in the ceiling.
No, he knew he shouldn't, but the moment the idea crossed his mind, hunger and temptation latched onto it, and he grinned. Sure, Scout would likely get mad, but he’d be fine. He just needed a little pick me up, and a juice box of health had just delivered itself to him.
“Hey Scout, over here, need your help with something.”
It took a second for the smaller dwarf to realize he’d been called, gaze snapping towards him once recognition hit, before he pointed his grapple gun in Driller's direction. Landing only a few feet away, he closed the distance on foot, head tilted back to look up at him, his gaze searching for the place of needed aid.
“Whatcha need from me?”
“Oh, just a little pick-me-up.”
Hands on both of Scout's shoulders, he gripped him tightly, before quickly bending down and sinking his teeth into Scout's neck. Letting out a startled grunt, the smaller dwarf flinched, and tried to push Driller away, to no avail.
“Driller what the fuck?! Let go!”
But he didn't care to listen, adjusting his hold on him to keep him steady as he squirmed, before he began to drink. With such closeness he could feel his smaller body shudder as blood drained from it, his pulse quickening with panic.
Scout was sweet, like the sugar they all ate, but richer, more decadent.
“Driller stop, this isn’t funny!”
But he couldn’t talk with his mouth full, instead, hummed in delight at the taste. Better than glyphids. More satisfying than red sugar.
“Help!”
Slowly, Scout's fight died down, as panic turned to irritation, and with crossed arms, he accepted his fate. After all, Driller wasn't gonna drain him dry, he just wanted to replenish his health.
And thankfully, it didn’t take much longer, before the craving subsided, feeling full.
Satisfied, his jaws unlatched, letting go of him after he licked the wound, before he was quickly shoved away, and a flare violently struck him in the face.
“Asshole! What the fuck?!”
The flare had hurt, but not enough to do anything more than possibly bruise.
“Couldn't reach the red sugar, much easier to reach you.”
A second flare struck him square on the nose.
“You could've asked me to get you some! You beardless blunderbuss!”
Predicting it, Driller managed to block the third one, the flare harmlessly deflecting off the back of his armoured glove. He licked the drop of blood dribbling down his chin, and grinned.
“You taste better.”
Scout froze, his body locking up as his brain seemed to crash like the Jetty Boot console when he hit it too hard. Avoiding eye contact, he covered his face with one hand, hiding a blossoming blush, as he quickly grappled away.
Driller hummed in delight, grinning, full and satisfied from his fast food delivery. Was worth being chewed out later.