This was done for original-fic bingo, B-5 "hunger".
Universe: And the Dead Doves Fell
Characters: Qori, mentions of Nika
There are very few human things that Qori still feels. She still knows greed and envy like old friends. They seem to be her constant companions wherever she goes. She doesn't mind. It's not like they're unpleasant to her after all.
Qori has forgotten what things like love or hatred feel like. It's been millenia since the last time she felt lonely, far too long ago that she experienced heartache to consider her ever having been capable.
Qori feels hunger, though. Of course, she feels it in her stomach, a slight roiling pain that is really more bothersome than anything. She always quenches it before it can become an actual problem. Humans are easy to kill, so why should she suffer?
Qori feels hunger whenever she sees a new kind of human she's never encountered before, even if she just ate. She knows how to keep with the times; if she didn't she would've been forgotten a forever before just as those useless human things like happiness had been.
That kind of hunger doesn't bother Qori. It is easy to sate and quickly goes away after she feeds herself. What Qori mostly hungers for is him.
She'd had him, he was all hers. She was going to keep him forever and ever and bite him and lick him and eat him up. She was going to pleasure him and hurt him, break him, fix him. He'd feed her very soul until the end of time.
There is only so much simple blood could do. It only made her annoying belly stop rumbling, nothing fun. Blood - human blood, that is, because certainly his blood would cure very ailment she could have - doesn't get him out her head. It doesn't douse the fire that is her entire being whenever she just happens to think of him. Blood really doesn't do much.
Unfortunately, Qori thinks of him a lot. When she does, her mouth waters, her palms itch. Grainy pictures of him - his red hair, pale skin, unsuspecting smile - float in her mind. She remembers their wedding night and her thighs tense, heat arcs through her core, her teeth snap.
If only she had him. How she could play with him! She could use him until her begged her for mercy. She'd make him cry, make him sing. She'd beat him and break him and own him until he wept desperately for and end.
And then she'd break him some more, until he said he loved her again.