Blood

"Blood"

'One-Shot'

By: BaffledFox


Zim likes Dib best when he's bloody and beaten on the floor.

The dirt-child has never been, and will never be a match for Zim when Zim wants to win.

Zim will always finish the fight.

Always.

"What's wrong Dib?" Zim grinned in that way that just oozed arrogance, his hands tucked neatly behind his back as he marched slowly – deliberately, up to the boy sprawled out on the ground of his lab.

Dib's eyes were heavy-lidded, staring hard at Zim's blurry shape as the Irken approached; the heavy sound of boot steps vibrating in his brain and leaving him dizzy. He couldn't muster a response, his tongue felt too swollen and heavy.

Zim's claret eyes caught the light in a sinister way, narrowing as he surveyed his broken prey. Steps ceased as he loomed upon the Earth-child, kneeling down, disregarding Dib's personal space.

Dib's fingers twitched uselessly, wanting desperately to form a fist, to punch that infuriating grin off Zim's face – but his body refused to listen to the wants of his mind, leaving him prone before his enemy.

It wasn't fair.

He was supposed to win this time.

Zim was oblivious to Dib's desperate thoughts, reaching out with a gloved talon to trace the curve of the boy's throat, running up to trace along the hard line of his jaw, "So pathetic," He murmured in an almost affectionate tone, "So fragile and worthless. Earth creatures," He quipped, "I don't see how such an inferior species lasted this long." Absently he cupped Dib's chin, his thumb running just under the human's bottom lip, entranced by the bright red smear across his mouth.

Zim's antennae twitched, inhaling that intoxicating flavor of blood; those delicious candies oozing from the numerous cuts on the boy's body, but especially dripping from that split lip of his.

Dib couldn't jerk his head from Zim's hand, couldn't do much of anything as he laid there under the invader; vaguely aware of the Irken kneeling closer, settling between his legs, just barely brushing against his inner thighs.

The alien's face hovered close to Dib's, his ridged tongue darting out to wet his own lips as he fought with desire and duty. "Stupid," He hissed, his tone diving into a depth Dib was not familiar with.

Dib's breath ghosted over Zim's lips, his gold eyes dimming with confusion as he gazed up at his foe, unsure what he was seeing in Zim's eyes. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat felt so tight and his mouth so sore, he couldn't form even the simplest of words.

"I don't understand," Zim continued his own dialogue, his antennae perking forward; feelers just faintly brushing against Dib's hair, "Why you think you're better," He hissed, baring his teeth in a mock display of hostility, "Why YOU think you are a match for ZIM."

Dib's brows furrowed slightly with the strain it took to keep himself conscious, Zim's tone causing a ripple of fear to quiver down his spine.

Zim's claws gripped hard at Dib's face, his claws digging into his skin as he forced his head closer. His dark eyes were trained on the boy's red lips, his antennae quivering from the metallic flavor that tainted the air between them.

He could end this.

Zim hesitated, absently listening to the frantic beat of Dib's heart, vaguely aware of the human trying to move his head out of his palm; but the pathetic worm-baby was too weak.

Without another thought Zim's tongue darted out and licked right along Dib's lower lip; the sweet sizzle of blood on his tongue nearly euphoric. A feral groan buried itself in his throat as he forced his tongue inside the boy's prone mouth, inhaling his essence as he sucked his lips clean of those sweet, sweet blood candies.

Dib's body bowed just slightly up against the Irken; but Zim couldn't discern if he had been trying to get away, or trying to get closer.

Zim drew in the kiss, remaining just a few inches from the Earth child, his opposite hand roaming up his chest, flattening his palm just above that heavily beating heart. He smirked, his pink-tinted teeth glinting in the dull lighting of his lab, "Mm…" He purred, his claws fisting in the fabric of the boy's shirt, "I could end you, right now."

Dib's eyes were dark, fighting with the need to stay conscious and the want to just give in. His lips moved in a silent inquiry, his breathing hard and erratic – the strain to keep his body awake and aware becoming too much.

He remained over the lowly child, enthralled by the struggle in those expressive honey-colored eyes. Whether he could make out Dib's feeble question or not, Zim didn't acknowledge one way or the other. Zim could still taste the bitter sting of blood on his tongue, the flavor tangy with the bite of fear.

Zim could easily stop that beating heart; force that delicious blood to run cold in Dib's veins, destroy that defiant light that smoldered in those strange amber eyes. His talons traced down Dib's chest in an absent gesture, "Zim is going to be merciful," He announced loftily.

He had grown addicted to this game of theirs – this cat and mouse that would surely span forever as long as they both lived and breathed.

But most of all he had acquired a taste for Dib's blood – the exotic taste easily changed depending on what emotion was currently pulsing through the boy's body. It was strange, fascinating. Zim decided he enjoyed that stinging taste of fear, and he could no longer indulge in such a flavor if the boy was dead, now could he?

No. If he were dead, his blood would clot in his veins and turn to dust – become flavorless and gritty.

Dib's eyes had fallen shut against his will, the tension starting to leave his muscles as darkness swamped his mind.

"Yes," Zim hissed, his lips pressing against the side of Dib's neck, feeling the pulse slow under his mouth, "Sleep Dib-thing," His teeth nipped faintly against the human's skin, "You've lost."