#pacbite

[qnsfwficrecs]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Cellbit/Pac

39,937 words

Tags: Predator/Prey, Fear Play, CNC, Role Reversal, Threesome (briefly)

Cellbit snorts, but there’s not much humour in it. There are bags under his eyes, and now that he’s not smiling, Pac can see a tiredness in his face that he didn’t notice before.

“Are you okay?” he asks hesitantly.

Cellbit straightens and gives him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m figuring things out.”

Bullshit.

***

Cellbit overworks himself. Pac wants to try helping him de-stress.

[qnsfwficrecs]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Cellbit/Pac

29,181 words

Tags: Consensual Somnophilia, Cannibalism, Knifeplay, Drug Use, Biting, Dacryphilia, Overstimulation

“Um, you know how last time we got together, I asked you if... uh, if you fucked me while I was asleep?”

“Yes.” Cellbit tightens his grip on Pac’s chin, just a little. “Go on.”

“Um, you said that you hadn’t, but that we could talk about it.”

Cellbit nods in understanding. “And you’d like to talk about it now?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

***

Cellbit and Pac try something new.

[qnsfwficrecs]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Cellbit/Pac

10,693 words

Tags: Predator/Prey, Frottage, Fighting for Dominance, Fear Play

He and Mike just recently came back from being imprisoned by the Federation, and of course that had to trigger this.

So now he stands outside Cellbit’s house in the Favela, dressed in clothes he doesn’t mind getting scratched, ripped up, or bloody, with his running prosthetic attached to his leg, wondering, as he always does, how he ended up so fucked up that getting chased down by the guy who ate his leg is the only solution to his problems he can think of.

[qnsfwficrecs]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Cellbit/Pac

22,156 words

Tags: Trans Cellbit, Trans Pac, Consensual Cannibalism, Knife Play, Fear Play

Pac shudders. Once he’s out that door again, they’re no longer dealing in yes’s and no’s and discussing boundaries and handling formalities. Pac can beg all he wants, and unless he says something from a handful of select words, there will be no stopping Cellbit once he’s on the hunt.

He takes one look at Cellbit and adrenaline surges through his veins, telling him to bolt like a frightened rabbit. And once he’s given the word, he will.

Cellbit glances down at his watch. “Five minute head start.” He nods towards the door. “Go.”

Pac is on his feet and running for the door in a second, and then he’s sprinting out into the night as fast as his legs will carry him.

***

Pac runs, and Cellbit hunts.