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English
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Part 56 of there is something wrong with you. there is something wrong with you that it is also wrong with me , Part 1 of collected the pieces and picked out a dagger
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Dead Dove: Do Not Eat 🍽🕊, you love blood too much (but not like i do)
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Published:
2025-12-27
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1,001
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1/1
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11
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43
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i'm way over the tree line, roaring like a feline, still coming up the incline

Summary:

It's not a hunger for food, not for the dull shit the RDA gave them, not even for the scrap you could shoot or gather out in the bush. No, he goes wild for the unhealthy stuff, for sinking his teeth into unlucky technician's necks until he breaks bone, for the colonel's sweat and piss and cum, for his own blood spilling from his lip.
___

On old appetites and new connections.

Notes:

Title from the song Sweet Tooth by Scott Helman.

Prompt: Sweeter Than Candy

Work Text:

Sometimes, Jake thinks he was reborn with an oral fixation. Or maybe he was always like this--chewing on the edge of his kiddy tablet, chewing on Tommy's shirtsleeves, chewing on Bear's button eyes. Chewing on ears in bar fights and chewing on necks in bed, chewing on the numb skin of his knees until they bled.

Whatever it was, it kicked to a notch in his second-third life, a hunger filling his mouth with stinging saliva almost from the get-go. Side effect of starvation, maybe, the brain going hungry during fifteen years in a chilly electric box, appetite only sharpened by his too-brief jaunt in Tommy's stolen body.

It's not a hunger for food, not for the dull shit the RDA gave them, not even for the scrap you could shoot or gather out in the bush. No, he goes wild for the unhealthy stuff, for sinking his teeth into unlucky technician's necks until he breaks bone, for the colonel's sweat and piss and cum, for his own blood spilling from his lip.

They send him out into the woods, perhaps hoping he'll get filled with arrows before their little experiment slips out of their control again, and he comes back with an armful of sweet-tasting angel boy. Jake worships Spider with his tongue day in and day out, biting down just enough to keep the kid from wriggling away.

"So good," he whispers, and Spider screams and curses at him, bright perfect sounds that Jake swallows down because that's a meal, isn't it, fury means passion means love. Daddy's fist sinking into his belly and wrestling him down onto the little bed, showering him with kisses.

With Spider gone--because Jake was too slow, too weak, useless fucking failure--he starves. For attention, for freedom, for a single look from his colonel. Quaritch offers him a turned back, all his attention on her, red-and-gray bitch with her spells out under the fucking volcano, no better than Augustine's witch recombinant.

Stupid pet names for her, barbaric fucking face paint for Quaritch, it's just negotiations, Corporal, a cock down Jake's throat to keep him quiet. He swallows and swallows until his throat aches, but it's never enough. He needs three hearts, now, not half of one.

Maybe she notices, maybe that's why she hands him the powder, soft grey shit that stains his fingers. A peace offering, a bribe, perhaps trying to get him out of the way for good...but no, the Colonel wouldn't let her, would he? Does Jake even want to stick around in a world where Colonel Quaritch doesn't care if he lives or dies?

"Scared?" she asks, heavily accented, one of the new words she had the negotiation team teach her. Jake smiles at her, and she smiles back, teeth gleaming like mirrors reflecting back at each other. He shoves the herbs into his mouth and chews, just because he fucking can.

It stings going down, burning like hot coals all down his throat. It's bad enough that he wants to go get water, but when he turns to look for some the world sways dangerously, blurring meld of red and gold. He plops down with a surprised laugh, watching clouds of shimmering ash rise up around him.

Varang laughs, too, and Jake's surprised by how much her laugh resembles her own. She crouches down before him, face blurring: one minute her features are small and delicate enough he could mistake her for human, the next twisting into something monstrous, snapping beak and fluttering tongue.

"Do you like it?" she asks, and it's easier to understand her now, somehow, the drug loosening all the Na'vi he mechanically stocked up on in dull Bridgehead courses. "I designed it myself." And yeah, he can see the stains on her hands, smell the soft reek of chemicals coming off her dark hair.

Not a witch, no, whatever the locals think. Varang's a scientist, but not the way labcoat pukes are scientists. A good scientist, like Tommy, reckless and creative. More ruthless than Tommy, though, with her sharp knives and mad eyes. Daddy's girl, although she doesn't know it yet.

Jake lets her guide him onto his stomach, lets her tug his head between her legs, rough grip on her kuru. He laps at the glittering sprawl of her cunt and when she has her full of that he sucks her cock instead, bobbing up and down.

He feels more than hears the Colonel finding them, kneeling behind Jake and wrenching his legs open. Spearing him from both ends, like he and Quaritch used to do with the kid, only they don't have to be half as careful now.

They treat Jake like a toy, shoving him roughly back and forth, stuffing him with cocks and fingers and sweet, greedy words in two languages. He gulps down whatever they offer, swallows until his stomach aches with it.

Afterward, they hold him as he comes down, rubbing soft circles over his belly. Mommy and Daddy, maybe, or Daddy and Sister...silly distinctions, really, it means the same thing. Through a gilded haze he can see their heads bent towards him, nodding to the same beat.

For a moment, he thinks of Mo'at'ite, if Sully could have brought her in like this, united with Quaritch in a righteous circle. No need for Jake then, no need to steal Tommy back. But Sully had been selfish, couldn't bring himself to share. Jake will be better, he has to be.

In the morning he lets them smear pale flowers onto his face, and then he kneels before Varang, tracing a tattoo needle over her wrists. She watches in amusement, letting him mark her with three dark links: the same as Jake, and Quaritch, and Spider (wherever he is, sweet boy, they'll bring him home soon).

He presses his lips to the new mark, something that can't be washed off, unlike his paint. Her skin is tender, and so sweet it makes his teeth ache.