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Puel, Wrongsexual (puella_nerdii) wrote in porn_battle,

Drinking from a Broken Cup: Digital Devil Saga, Roland/Argilla, and I'm stepping on the devil's tail
He quit drinking. And he hasn’t touched a drop since then, since Indra’s lightning first burned in his veins, burned hotter and brighter than the booze ever could. And the hunger—the shakes are worse than the DTs when Indra starts roaring, roaring for blood and meat.

Roland drank to fill up the hole before. Now he devours. But the hole doesn’t go away, it keeps yawning deep inside him. The absence of—he doesn’t even know. He’s been living like this for so long, he just grabs whatever he can and holds on until his knuckles turn white but even then he feels himself slipping. His palms get sweaty, he trembles, he knows he’s going to fall, but the world slips between his fingers and he’s scrabbling, scrambling to dig his nails in—

Dig his nails into Argilla’s skin; the only imperfections on her body now are those red crescent marks welling up from where he’s touched her, clawed her. Her hands are rock-solid on his jaw, clamping around his face, dragging him closer until their lips crush together and her breath makes him dizzy, makes him spin. He drinks her in, bites the corner of her mouth and sucks on it until she keens; the sound is half-Prithvi, half-her, and his Atma pulses, throbs, sends bolts trailing down his spine. He feels the Seismic Wave rumbling against his chest, so he lowers his head and licks that, too. His tongue tingles as he traces the pink lines spreading out from it. There’s earth in his mouth now, earth and musk. He feels Argilla shiver when the change finally ripples through her, when her smooth slick skin turns rough and ridged. He kisses the mouths forming on her breasts. Her teeth batter his lips, soft and weak and human, but he keeps kissing her there, keeps rocking against her and moaning even when the sound coming from him stops being entirely human.

Roland anchors himself in her, in the mother of the Earth, lets her whips coil around his wrists. She holds him tight and he gasps “Tighter” and she hears him, pins his arms behind his back. His shoulders scream in protest but Indra drowns all that out, Indra’s voice and Prithvi’s scent make his mind cloud up and stagger around like—he can’t even think of what and he’s too drunk on Prithvi to care, too caught up in her.

“Fuck,” he breathes. Naked before the goddess. His mouth rests on her skin, in the hollow between her breasts and he’s whispering, his lips are moving against her, he doesn’t know if he’s praying or if he’s just babbling but something in his head just came loose, something—something makes the lightning surge in him when Prithvi releases his wrists and pushes him between her legs.

She has teeth there too, of course. Ridges of them. He feels the heat rising from her, rolling over him.

“I’m hungry,” he says. The words sound slurred to him, rushed and indistinct. “God. I need—”

“Then take it,” her mouths growl. Her voice is the voice of the earth. Rumbling. Raw. He’s so hard now that it hurts. Even the friction of his cock against the cement on the floor is—maybe it should hurt, maybe it does, but the agony’s different. Lingering. Can’t think straight, the electricity and the heat and Prithvi. God. Prithvi.

He licks her once to try it out, tentative and slow at first. She’s warm, molten, and the enamel on her teeth rubs against his tongue. Some of the ridges nick him. There’s copper in his mouth when he does it again, when he goes over every inch of her cunt. He’s careful, somehow; he manages to avoid ripping his mouth to shreds on her teeth even when he kisses their points hungrily. He speeds up, makes the strokes of his tongue little and quick, lets his teeth press down on her skin for just a second before he starts licking again. Her thighs tremble and she rumbles, he thinks her mouths are saying something but he can’t hear, he’s too busy tasting her and smelling her and touching her everywhere he can, everywhere she’ll let him. She doesn’t get softer around him, exactly, but he can feel it when she comes, feel it in his bones, and he trembles right along with her.

Prithvi fades away and leaves Argilla behind, Argilla panting and damp, her hair plastered to her skin. He can’t stand up, his head roars when he starts to think about it and he collapses right back down to the ground.