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"My baby, my little baby; I'll gobble you up whole."
The voice crooned from some corner distant yet too close for comfort; he'd wander off, he was sure, like he had the last two rounds-- But then again, third time's always the charm, isn't it?
He had to leave.
"Daddy's lonely, sweetums,"
But not yet.
"So, so lonely..." The wail was almost pitiable, so mournful and so sweet, if not for the rumble that came after. "But I suppose that's what you're scared of, isn't it? Daddy's belly, big and hungry, full with the bulk of you."
His laughter shook the temple. Link could have sworn even the moss quaked with it. He gasped; then hitched his breath. Ghirahim's laughter had stopped. Silence. Nothing but the wind through the cracks, and the dropping of water. Pat. Pat. Pat.
He ran.
The air tore. He ran. The metallic shriek burned his ears and the daggers skated him and his lungs burned but he ran and ran and ran. He dove for a crevice, jamming himself in right as something tore away his hat. He crawled, and crawled, and crawled.
"Oh no, you don't!"
An iron-fist grip on his ankle. Link yelped, and kicked the boot off, scrabbling back further. A sigh erupted from his pursuer; metallic, barely-restrained. It was with dread that Link felt the back of the tunnel. Just far enough from Ghirahim, but not enough to escape.
He was.
Oh gods he was.
A chuckle, raw and ragged, rose from the tunnel's mouth. "You're fucked, boy."
Link only breathed.
Goddess, oh sweet goddess.
He'd scraped his nose crawling in through here; bruised his knees and ribs when he threw himself down. It was starting to get to him. The stone was harsh, too. He whimpered. Ghirahim crooned, shushing sympathetically. Link choked.
"Gotten yourself into a pickle, haven't you, baby?"
"D-don't call me--!" He was cut short, as something wet touched his foot. He drew it back with a cry, only for the tongue to follow him there, too. He kicked. A cry broke, and there came relief. It was dashed as the demon gripped him again.
"You know what?" he spat. "If you want to play this game," He pulled off the other boot, gripping tight the whole way through. "Then fine; I'll play along," There was a pause, as he took a long, deep sniff of his foot. Link recoiled. "But you're joining me, either way."
And then he licked.
Something shot up through Link, and he squirmed. Sucks and kisses were pressed on and between his toes; a sloppy, mauling loose-lipped claim on the length of his sole.
"What lovely plump, flushed, pink little toes you have there," Ghirahim crooned. "All the better when they're kicking in my belly."
"Stop!" Link yelled. "Leave me alone!"
"Oh, dear hero," he mumbled, his breath grazing the hair utop his metatarsals. "But I can't; you, it seems, are as much a threat to me as I am to you," He laughed. "No matter how contestable. And besides,"
His other arm crept up his ankle to his calf.
"It'd be a crime for such supple flesh to go to waste."
And with that, he plunged the full length of it into his mouth; swallowing, strongly.
"Fuck!" Something hazy took him. An electric warmth shot through his whole body, and he scrambled away; tried; he tried; his back was already against the wall. Ghirahim's mouth was warm, wet and crushing; his throat moreso; and Link couldn't help but think of the time Groose gloated in getting Peatrice to suck him off.
He didn't think it'd be so,
Honestly, Link thought it was all,
Oh, Goddess,
Fucking shit, no, no, no,
No, no, no, no, no, no , n o !
Ghirahim rumbled, evidently pleased. He couldn't see his eyes, but he knew they were leering at him; deep, black, animalistic; lidded yet not closed-- Never closed. Fuck, had he been saying it all aloud? His throat was raw; but that could've been from the hours he spent with no water, slinking from so cruel a gaze. Ghirahim would be gloating-- Yes, yes, he'd be gloating; making up for his full mouth; Ghirahim's mouth was always full, wasn't it? With tongue, with words, with fallen baby birds-- And now him, apparently.
He'd hardly noticed that he'd plunged both his feet in, and was now up to his knees. His body must've been blocking it out; shielding him from the inevitable. And yet still, a sickly little squeak broke as his toes brushed the wall of that slimy, firey chamber. He'd live; he knew it; knew that Ghirahim loved to play with his food; that he might not see him as just food.
The pull from the tunnel was sudden-- Even Skyview's dim, evening light seemed to hurt his eyes. He whipped around, trying to get his bearings, when his hands landed on Ghirahim's solid shoulders. He was slumped across his face, with the demon's hands around his waist and his tongue on his groin. He whimpered. He should try to get up-- He even makes a measly attempt --But it's all too much. His body is convinced it's inevitable; his cock is hard, and scraping against the creature's hard-palate. The swallows are thick, and hard, and heavy and enticing.
Ghirahim's playing with him.
Ghirahim's sucking him off.
And Link can do nothing more than choke little gasps of, 'oh, oh yes please,' and, 'please, let me go,' and something, something possibly about Zelda and how he needs her because she needs him and he wants her back and safe and he can't do that in a demon lord's belly; and all Ghirahim does is gulp; deeper; and deeper; slow and methodical. Letting the heat build up; rise, as his cock bobs down into his throat and as Ghirahim's tongue slips between his cleft-- He'd undressed him, hadn't he? Somehow...?
But it's when it builds that Ghirahim takes him further; leans back further; takes him to his waist. And then he won't be able to shield himself from the horror of it all; won't be able to stare down at Ghirahim's stark, chiseled, perfect back and pretend he's merely being slung over his shoulder like a sack.
He sobs.
Ghirahim swallows.
He sobs.
Ghirahim swallows because he doesn't care he doesn't give a shit about how Link feels all he wants to do is use him, and use him, and use him until he can't be used anymore and then throw him away like a soiled rag and--
I'd never.
The intrusion catches him off guard. As do the hands, rising up along his body and to his face, clamping down on his eyes. He's lowered to the floor; softly, gently. The ground is cold, loveless stone, but he makes it feel like feather-down, with the way he holds him.
Allow yourself to enjoy this, my love.
And when arms metallic and lean wrap around him like a brace safe and sturdy, he finds it hard not to. The warmth of his breath, of his flesh, the thick-dripping ooze of his saliva and how it seeps into Link's every crevice and how he realises he's being tasted and he tastes good and somebody wants him, loves him, enough to give up his own body, and--
--Ahh,
Ah,
Ah...
Envelopment.
Short and sweet.
The final gulp; the sealing kiss from all-round. A return to... something. Perhaps that curiousity he first felt as a small child, looking into the abyss of a Loftwing's maw; that want to... explore. The urge to slip in and let yourself be carried away.
Dangerous, he quickly learned.
Yet.
Still.
When the last of him slips in, he's grateful of Ghirahim's need to recover. No, he couldn't take it, his asserting; not as he adjusts himself to this world slick, and dark, and tight. How way it burbles all around; how it's hot, and he'd certainly have died if not for his earrings.
"Or my mercy," He swallows, and breathes. Link steadies himself-- Much as he can, in a world like this. Ghirahim chuckles, and Link feels the rumble of it full-force; how full it is; how rich; like the bubbling of magma beneath the earth. "Settling in quite nicely, aren't we? I didn't even need to probe that hard; just nick a few sentiments, drag up some old memories..."
He's waiting for a response. Link would be angry. But he can't. It's just. He can't care; not anymore.
And besides, Ghirahim's hand on his head feels... good.
"Ah, sleepy." He rubs lower, then pats him down. "It's a wonder you didn't fall sooner; to me, or something else."
"Not very tasty..." Link mumbled, already burying his face in the crook of his hand.
Ghirahim hummed, and it dips. "I'd challenge that."
"Mmn, if you want..."
He sat back with a thud. He yawned, rubbing Link lazily. It surprised him how... nonchalant, this all was. Ghirahim had always been conversational-- Nigh-amiable, even --And he'd never made his feelings a secret; but this was...
"Mine."
Link's heart leaped. It was starting to sink in.
"You are mine. Every bit of you. I own every-thing you have, and I own you; you are mine. She'll never get her hands on you, and you'll never see her again." The embrace tightened. "Mine forever."
"H...humans don't... can't...!"
"I'll make sure you do. I will preserve you."
And he rubbed again; hands wandering, feeling out the whole of Link's body; testing, adjusting.
"Don't you worry."
Link felt very, very small.
Ghirahim giggles, and swallows. It lands on Link. He gets the sense he should be disgusted.
He's anything but.
"Though," he says, no doubt raising a finger to his chin, "If push came to shove, I wouldn't be entirely averse to digesting you."
A pit in Link's stomach; more than a pit; a heat, dipping down to his groin.
"And then what?"
"Oh~ I'd rebirth you, my dear!" A chuckle; the walls around him strain again. "You are precious to me, in all ways."
Link's breath hitches, and he gasps.
"How... would...?"
"Imagine that," Ghirahim rumbles. "You, developing in my belly," He makes a sweep across the lower half of him. "Nestled in the folds of my womb for nine, long, months. Starting as nothing more than a dribble of quickening, then a grain of rice, a stamina fruit. Small and discreet, perfectly tucked away while I wage war on your goddess and her people."
Link chills, shudders, but it does nothing to stop the growing heat.
"You'd keep growing, and growing, until you filled out the whole of me. I would curse you as you threw blows at my bladder and kicked me in the ribs. And I would rub you still, and I would love you still, and I would brag and boast to anyone and everyone that would listen the depths of my good fortune. I would fondle you as you lay on my thighs, as I do now, and as I might after your birth. Oh, and that birth-- Why, for all my complaining, I would put it off as long as I could; a year, maybe two, even three if my body would allow me-- Oh, how I would mourn our parting!"
"And once I'm born?"
He can all-but hear the smile on his face.
"I would kiss you, and suckle you on my chest. I would scold you for all the trouble you put me through. I would run my fingers through your hair, and offer one, in the hopes of holding your little hand. And when you had finished, I would kiss you again."
The arousal fades into something equally warm, fuzzy, yet nameless. Laying against his soft, slick walls, knees tucked up by his forehead... The blood rushing by his ears, the organs churning restlessly below, the heaving of the diaphragm and the restless pounding of the heart above. How it's dark. Blissfully dark. Surely, there hadn't been such a darkness since when the world began.
He reaches out, searching for his navel, and presses.
He answers, firmly.
"This is nice, isn't it?"
"Kinda..." The mugginess of it all has him slurring.
"The perfect place to lie down, and rest."
Link makes to protest, but it drowns in his throat, as Ghirahim plants more firm caresses. The flesh presses down, down onto him. Some bit of tubing groans beneath. Was... was the fluid always this...?
He gasps, and jolts awake.
"Let me out!"
"Oh goodness, what now?"
Link prods, then pounds against his flesh. "Now!"
Ghirahim grunts, and settles back down. A flurry of squirms marr the surface of his stomach. Just looking at it, let alone feeling it...
"Fuck. I don't think I've ever enjoyed your insolence this much. You're so-- Oh, oh, that's good."
"Ghirahim, you cunt! Let me out now! I'm not staying in you for nine months!"
"Three years," he mumbles, eyes shut and sighing. There's a hand up by his mouth, catching little burps. The other roams down by his gut, patting appreciatively. "Maybe more."
The fluid rises. Link continues to thrash, groping here there and everywhere for the sphincter from whence he came. There is no up or down, let alone left or right-- Direction has lost all meaning. All there is, is thick, pungeant air, and the liquid that threatens to engulf it-- Engulf him.
Ghirahim moans.
He's going to be so lovely, drowning in there.
Link slips, and his foot bursts into the duodenum. He inhales some fluid on the way down-- He chokes, and inhales more. It's hot, searing fucking hot, and it's so acidic it feels like it's going to burn the lining of his nose off.
Panic, more panic.
Ghirahim's caresses have turned to gropes. Sharp fingers prod at him through the flesh, grabbing, pinching, exploring. Every part of Link is felt, by parts of Ghirahim inside and out. His buttocks are slapped by some invading hand. His lips dig into some slimy, wrinkled wall, pressing involuntary kisses. There is no air. It's all gone. He thrashes, and he thrashes, and it's all gone.
This is what would have been at the other end of a Loftwing's maw.
The kind of thick, searing, amniotic darkness the world can expect at its end.
The Imprisoned.
Zelda.
All mankind.
"It's such a shame you never divulged about that Time Gate. It really would have made everything so much easier-- For you, you know."
That hand, that bloody hand, running down the length of his, that firm, glorious, horrid blood-stained hand--
"Say, boy," he hushes; Link can barely hear him, over the cacophany of his body whole. "Did you ever wonder about Hylia's first hero?"
It the chaos of Link's being, something horrible rings clear.
He was...
...They were...
"Welcome to the bloodline, my little one. Don't worry; with some luck, she'll have thought to find another."