Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11587350.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroko_no_Basuke_|_Kuroko's_Basketball
  Relationship:
      Himuro_Tatsuya/Murasakibara_Atsushi
  Character:
      Himuro_Tatsuya, Murasakibara_Atsushi
  Additional Tags:
      Body_Horror, Cannibalism, Vore, Candy
  Series:
      Part 4 of SASO_2017
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-23 Words: 1204
****** whet your appetite ******
by justlikeswitchblades
Summary
     “Chocolate,” Tatsuya finally murmurs, fascinated yet anticlimactic,
     as if Atsushi eating so many sweets would inevitably turn him into
     one.
Notes
     prompt: "everyone says you have a heart of ice / but they're only
     half right. / you have a heart of ice cream."
     – a softer world [rocky road.]
Every time Tatsuya sees Atsushi, he's concerned that Atsushi is about to melt.
Maybe it's just him spoiled by life in California; winter in Akita has proven
to be ruthless, school cancelled twice now due to heavy snowfall, to say
nothing of the bite of the chill in the air. Tatsuya has found himself wearing
extra layers under his uniform’s mandated ones, UnderArmor under his shirt and
shorts even when he's working up a sweat in the gym.
Atsushi, however, can't seem to keep his layers on. He peels off his sweater
when he gets to class, from what Tatsuya has heard, and refuses to put on much
else when going outside. He rolls up his sleeves, unbuttons as many buttons as
he can before the class rep chastises him for not wearing an undershirt,
discarding his shirt minutes into the one-on-ones Tatsuya ropes him into
playing. He doesn't seem to be getting sick, despite his actions seeming
vaguely indicative of a fever, so Tatsuya tries not to worry; he licks the
sweat from Atsushi's neck, tasting vaguely sweet, like salted caramel. He
watches as Atsushi, dragging his feet on the walk back to the dorms, lays down
in the snow, turning his white shirt translucent in an out-of-season contest.
Seeing Atsushi wearing so little has become normal; seeing him start to wear
more again, at practice and in the hallway, is what makes Tatsuya turn his
head. He still frowns most of the time, tugging at his collar, hair pulled up
to keep it off his neck. He's pouty, clearly trying to complain less.
When Tatsuya finally wrestles him out of his t-shirt, the both of them crammed
into and still spilling out of Atsushi's dorm room bed, nothing seems to have
changed. The large, dark birthmark smeared over the expanse of his pectoral,
chest and stomach speckled with a constellation of beauty marks. Tatsuya sees
the repeating diamond pattern marked into his skin; he nearly writes it off as
the impressions made from the bedsheets, after waking up from a long nap. But
the ridges have a raised texture to them, the patch of skin shining with a dull
sheen.
“Atsushi,” Tatsuya levels a cool look at him, eyebrow raised just a notch above
his mild expression. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I'm fine, Muro-chin,” Atsushi pouts, though he can't fight the way he exhales,
lips parting when Tatsuya's fingers skim over his chest.
“Does that feel okay?” Tatsuya inquires again, adjusting his question, trying
not to smirk at the way Atsushi’s cheeks color. Atsushi forces a frown, but
just for a moment.
Tatsuya kisses Atsushi, kisses down his neck, drags his lips along the edge of
Atsushi's birthmark. He inhales, and is hit with the usual richness of
Atsushi's musk. But there's another note in it, a mix of bitter and sweet, that
Tatsuya can't quite place. He frowns, lips on Atsushi's skin while he thinks;
the patch of skin feels harder yet more brittle at the same time. Then, Tatsuya
pulls back just a fraction, eye widening.
“Chocolate,” He finally murmurs, fascinated yet anticlimactic, as if Atsushi
eating so many sweets would inevitably turn him into one. Atsushi looks as if
he's thinking the same thing, eyebrows raised to suggest either pride or
disgust, or perhaps both. He dips his head, sticking out his tongue.
“Atsushi!” Tatsuya swats at his wrist, looking incredulous enough. It's not the
part doing the reaching, but it still does the job; Atsushi stops, making a
displeased noise in his throat.
“If your dick turned to chocolate, would you eat that too?”
“It’d probably melt if I tried to fuck you with it,” Atsushi shrugs. “Might as
well use it for something.”
“Besides,” He continues, his lip turning up in a smirk. “I’d share with you.”
Tatsuya’s poker face rises back up over his features, though Atsushi’s smirk
echoes on his own lips. He leans in to Atsushi’s chest again, kissing at the
patch of chocolate, licking it all over so it shines brighter with his saliva.
The chocolate doesn’t quite melt, but it gets a little sticky, staining his
lips. His eye flicks up to Atsushi’s--half-lidded, pupils wide, cheeks pink. He
keeps looking at him, fitting his teeth against his chest.
And then he takes a bite.
Atsushi crunches in his mouth, and Tatsuya chews, the chocolate-coated waffle
cone going down easily, just like every other ice cream cone he’s had while
walking down Santa Monica Pier. Atsushi shudders with a gasp, long fingers
working into Tatsuya’s hair, but as far as Tatsuya can tell, it doesn’t hurt.
He takes another bite, staring down at the vibrant licorice lace muscle of
Atsushi’s pectoral, the red and white stripes on his candy cane ribs. Tatsuya
eats up the rest of his birthmark with manicured bites, careful to leave a
millimeter of separation between the cone and Atsushi’s paler skin. He slides
his lips along a rib like a sugary harmonica, peppermint filling his mouth as
the bone thins into a warped spindle, slight enough for him to take a chunk out
with a bite. Tatsuya rolls the spire around in his mouth, long enough to push
out his cheek on one side, then pulls up, pushing it into Atsushi’s mouth with
his tongue. The rise and fall of Atsushi’s chest wavers for a moment, his
labored breaths quieting, replacing with the sound of him crunching on his own
peppermint bone.
Tatsuya returns to the opening in Atsushi’s chest, taking in a mouthful of
licorice, nearly choking with a snort when Atsushi’s stomach rumbles seconds
later.
“Not funny, Muro-chin,” Atsushi pushes playfully at Tatsuya’s head, and Tatsuya
can’t help grinning, gagging and depositing the half-chewed lump of licorice
onto Atsushi’s chest. Atsushi whines with an open mouth, begging for the candy.
“I don’t like licorice,” Tatsuya shrugs. “And I’m starting to regret dragging
you to the gym.” He goes in for another bite, feeding it to Atsushi this time,
who chews it slowly, his pout edged with the twitches of a smile. Tatsuya’s
gaze falls all over Atsushi again; the soft puffs of hair at his armpits like
candy floss, so easy to imagine his pink, perked nipples transforming into
Hershey kisses, or gumdrops.
A few more bites and that section of Atsushi’s pectoral is mostly cleared away,
a sliver of gummy pink lung visible next. What really draws Tatsuya’s attention
is what is to its left--multiple scoops of neapolitan ice cream cobbled
together into the shape of a human heart. The other half is obscured by
Atsushi’s still very human body, and it’s not so deep that Tatsuya couldn’t
stick his tongue down for a lick--but he sticks a finger in instead. Atsushi’s
heart is so cold it stings Tatsuya to touch it, but he keeps his finger there,
applying gentle pressure, watching Atsushi squirm and whimper underneath him,
feeling his heart throb into his touch, and his cock throb against his crotch.
Tatsuya pulls his finger out, his skin discolored by the cold. The ice cream is
shining, melted on his fingertip. He looks at his finger, then at Atsushi; then
he leans in, kissing Atsushi, his finger trapped between their lips.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!