And Darling

Greed/Envy. NC-17. ~3800 words. Pastfic. Artwork by Pinstripesuit.
Everyone’s greedy for something.

we can start with all the things that turn us out,
and we can go right down the list and throw them out.

-Abandoned Pools

Smoke curls from Greed’s mouth, drifts into the greyed dimness beyond the small pools of lamplight. The cigar is laced heavily with laudanum, enough that he can feel it creeping through his blood. Painted nails scratch lazily through his hair. He turns and his gaze falls on her rich, red lips as she lifts his glass to drink. A glimpse of white teeth and pink tongue, and he remembers how she tastes.

“That’s mine, darling,” he says, head lolling back on soft velvet cushions to enjoy the last of the drug before it burns away. His fingers trail lightly up her arm, wrap around the warmed glass to take it back.

She smiles, laughs, touches a fingertip to the corner of her lips and licks the taste of whiskey away. Her eyes are the blue of deep snow, framed by thick slashes of black. Her blond hair is dark, bushed and lightly oiled to shining waves. A jewelled clip, a gift from a generous patron, draws it back from her face.

“I’m certain I wouldn’t have as much trouble remembering what is yours and what is not,” she says as his gaze wanders to the soft curve of her bare shoulder, the gentle rise of her breasts above the tightly laced bodice, “if you were to give us a name to go with your handsome face.”

“What do you think, Marie?” he asks, the foreign name rolling off his tongue as smooth as the warm skin under his hand. He likes the way it sounds, a hint of bigger things, better things. “She wants a name so badly, what would you call me?”

Curled against his side, delicate hand resting possessively on his stomach, the other girl he’s claimed for the night lifts dark eyes to meet his. When she smiles, the light in them is of innocence playing at being wicked.

“If I were to call you anything,” she says, slim fingers cupping his cheek, gold bracelets jangling, “I’d call you greedy.”

“And you’d be right,” he says and laughs, running his hand over her glossy black hair. She leans into the caress, content as a kitten under his touch.

Ada laughs again, rich ripples of sound that draw his focus back to her. She crosses her legs with a rustle of full skirts, slings her arms along the back of the settee, and says, “Everyone’s greedy for something.” The thick pendant hanging round her neck glints in the lamplight.

“I know what you’re greedy for,” Marie says to him, impatient for his attention. Her fingers trip along his thigh, toy with the watch chain draped from his pocket.

“And what is that?” Greed asks, dropping the cigar stub into a silver tray. The box beside it is always full, just like the wine stores are never empty or the company never lacking. It’s what he imagined life to be. Endless.

She answers with a kiss, mouth moving slow and promising against his. Her lips taste of paint, her tongue of sweetened wine. Her skin is soft under his palm and smells faintly of powder. If she notices the sharpness of his teeth, she knows enough not to question.

“She’s right again,” he says, catching her chin and tilting her face to the light. His thumb rubs her lips, her tongue flicks teasingly against it, and he grins with satisfaction. “Your reward,” he says with a flourish, and offers her the rest of his wine.

As she accepts it, tips it to drink, her heavy-lidded gaze flicks to Ada. Smugness teases the corners of her mouth. She’s as possessive as he is, too jealous of his attentions for the high-priced whore she is, but he enjoys it all the same. Everyone wants to be wanted, even him. Especially him.

He trails knuckles over her collarbones, anticipation coiling tight in his stomach. Taking her hands, fine-boned and small in his, he pulls her to her feet. The empty glass tumbles to the cushions.

“Dance with me, my lady,” he says, and hums a few bars of his favourite waltz of the moment, whisking her across the room in dizzying circles. Her steps are clumsy at first, unused to his pace. Easily, Ada picks up the tune, her rich voice outperforming his as Marie’s delighted laughter rings in his ears.

He stops beside the bed, arms around her waist, holding tight to her warmth. Every deep breath she takes tugs on something low in his body. Her dark eyes glitter like the teardrop stones dripping from her ears.

“Wonderful,” Greed says, twining a lock of hair round his finger and brushing it against his lips. “Beautiful,” he adds before kissing her again, taking his time to taste the heat of her mouth. He hears the rustle of Ada’s skirts as she rises, and glances up to see her standing at the foot of the bed, a hand resting lightly on the post.

“You say that to all the pretty girls,” Ada teases.

“Only because it’s true,” he counters, lifting Marie off her feet and tumbling to the bed in a flurry of black and purple silk. She falls between his legs, back to his chest, colour rising in her cheeks. His hands stroke her sides, thumbs barely brushing the curve of her breasts. “And you are both very pretty girls.”

Ada lifts a knee to the bed, giving him a tempting glimpse of pale thigh. Marie’s hands slide over his legs. She arches her back, offering the smooth curve of her shoulder, as her palm cups his groin. An appreciative sound echoes low in his throat, and his arm slides round her waist, pinning her to him.

The mattress dips under Ada’s weight. “Come here, darling,” he says to her, leaning back against the ornate headboard and pulling Marie with him. His thumb strokes gently behind Marie’s ear, fingers buried in the warm, thick hair tumbled from its clasps. “Do you think she’s beautiful?”

Ada’s gaze follows the line of Marie’s body, lingering on the curve of her waist and the flush of her face. “Breathtakingly so,” she says, eyes meeting his again. He smiles in response to the question in them. She looks back to Marie, lips curved invitingly.

He doesn’t need to see Marie’s face to know the expression she wears. “I want you to do something for me, beautiful Marie,” he says, his hand stroking between her breasts and down her stomach. “I want one more of your kisses.”

She tips her face to his, more than willing. She tenses in his arms when he doesn’t take the kiss and the mattress dips again. “I don’t want it for myself,” he explains in a soft whisper.

Ada curls beside her, hand braced on the sheets to lean close. “He wants it for me,” she says, fingertips lightly touching Marie’s dark shoulder.

“You’re not serious,” Marie says, looking to Greed for an answer. She looks too young and too naïve, caught by surprise like a virgin bride.

“Of course I am,” he says. “I never ask for something I wouldn’t want. And what I want, my darling,” he continues, drawing Marie’s skirts up inch by inch to bare her legs, “is for you to give Ada one of your delicious kisses.”

Ada’s hand drifts up to her cheek. “You did tell us that you know how to please your men,” she says. “Tonight, he’s your man.” She brushes her lips beside her fingers, and Greed can feel the quiet trip of Marie’s breath. “You won’t leave him disappointed, will you? Over one small kiss?”

“No harm ever came from a kiss,” Marie says. Her smile hides her uncertainty well, but her eyes are a little too bright.

Greed strokes her hip as their lips brush, and quickly dampens his own. Ada glances at him only once before closing her eyes, cupping Marie’s face in her hands and letting her tongue trace the soft curves of Marie’s lips.

“Let her taste you,” he murmurs to Marie. He leaves her skirts bunched around her hips and slides his hand beneath. Her thighs part as slowly as her lips, and he cups the heat between them as he sees Ada’s tongue slip into her mouth. Slender fingers brush his, curve over his hand and dip lower. Marie starts, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

“Don’t stop,” he says, feeling Ada’s fingers push into the tight warmth of Marie’s cunt. “Don’t stop,” he repeats, guiding them back to their kiss.

Pressed to the small of Marie’s back, his dick aches, and he rolls his hips, groaning low as pleasure sparks along his nerves. He feels Ada’s fingers slip deeper, and Marie gasps again. She freezes, and doesn’t jerk away this time. Almost too soft to hear, she moans.

She rocks between them, muted friction against his cock, slick, wet heat against his fingers. Her eyes flutter open as Ada releases her mouth, trails lips down to her collarbone and presses slow, open-mouthed kisses there. Muscles quivering, face flushed with more than pleasure, she muffles her moans in the crook of Greed’s neck as she comes.

Ada draws her hand away first, fingers glistening in the flickering light. Marie slumps against him, breathing deeply, wetting her dry lips, letting Ada place one last, chaste kiss high on the swell of her breast.

“Marvellous,” Greed says, and Ada blows him a kiss. He flicks a quick glance at the clock on the mantle. Just past midnight. Marie laughs at his praise, her dark eyes still hazed with pleasure.

“Would you like to see something more?” Ada asks, stretching out luxuriously on the bedcover, resting her cheek on Marie’s thigh.

“Always,” he says. “I think you deserve something first, though, don’t you?” He runs his hands down Marie’s arms, taking her wrists in a loose grip. “Close your eyes,” he whispers to them.

Marie’s slide shut immediately; Ada watches him a moment longer. He traces small circles on the palms of Marie’s hands as he waits, and glances at the clock again. When he looks back, Ada’s eyes are closed.

“Are you enjoying your evening, Marie?” Greed asks. His fingers drift up her arms again, lingering in the crooks of her elbows, the slant of her collarbones.

“Yes,” she answers with another quiet laugh. Small shivers chase across her skin. “Very much.”

“I want you to do one more thing for me, darling,” he says, lifting one hand away. Black ink seeps down his skin, lengthening fingers to claws as he flexes them. His voice drops to a whisper as the tip of one settles against the perfect line of her throat. “Don’t scream.”

Ada’s eyes snap open as he feels flesh part and warm blood flow. His arm clamps tight around Marie’s throat to minimise the spray; his shirt is soaked in seconds. He can feel his own heart beat harder as hers slows. The light in her eyes is the last to fade.

Ada stares at the dead girl, lips parted in surprise, hand clutching the fine misting of blood marring the hem of her gown. “I thought you liked her,” she says finally.

“I did,” Greed replies with a smile. He leans back, relaxed and self-satisfied, completely unconcerned with the cooling body sprawled in his lap. “You didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” she agrees slowly, doubt clear in her eyes. “You killed her for me.” She smoothes the wrinkles from her bloodied dress.

“I think you’re catching on,” he says with a gleaming smile. “If I was wrong, I’ll apologise right away, of course.” He pauses, glances down at the body. “But I doubt she’ll appreciate it.”

Ada narrows her eyes, regarding him critically. He keeps smiling, enjoying his moment; he knows he’s surprised her this time. She can’t quite keep the smile from tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You’re a boor for not telling me,” she says, dainty feet planted firmly on the corpse’s side and giving it a rough shove off the bed. She hikes up her fancy skirts just as unceremoniously and kneels between his legs, her arms round his neck and mouth crushed to his.

His hands settle on her waist, claws rippling into being and kneading gently, barely pricking through her clothes. The sharp edges of his teeth bruise her lips, and with a gasping laugh, she pulls away. “What’s the occasion?” she asks, nipping at his throat.

“At what point did I ever need a special occasion for presents?” he replies, a hand sliding boldly under her dress to cup her ass. She’s naked under the heavy cloth, naked and warm and wet. Obligingly, she straddles his legs, skirt tumbling down to hide what his hand is doing.

“It’s customary,” she says, eyes growing heavy. Her thighs quiver when his thumb skims over her clit, and she settles lower, hands braced on his shoulders. He takes his time sending shivers skittering up her spine, slow caresses from the inside and out.

“Customary,” he repeats, pressing one long finger into tight, clutching heat. He imagines fucking her like this, her dress concealing everything but the feeling of sliding his dick into her, over and over again.

She catches and holds a breath, then lets it out in a low groan. His claw on her hip keeps her from moving too fast, forcing her to take the lazy strokes and quick bursts of pleasure when he chooses to give them.

“Stop teasing me, Greed,” she says, fingers turning bloodless white and digging hard into his shoulders. She kisses him again, too rushed, her heartbeat fluttering like a trapped butterfly. “We’ll get another.” She nips at his lips, drawing back to watch him with glittering eyes. “You can kill another one for me.”

Greed laughs, her excitement catching. “Not-”

“Or I’ll kill one for you,” she says quickly, small hands seizing his waistcoat. Her arms flex, the buttons strain. He expects to hear the fine material rip, and regrets choosing to wear his favourite.

“Or,” she continues, smoothing away the wrinkles again, moving to pick open the buttons instead. “We could keep this fine room for an hour or two more. Entertain ourselves.”

“I prefer the third,” he says, pushing both hands under her skirt to undo his pants. It’s not like her to spare anything that gets in her way, his clothes included. He wonders if his gesture has tipped the scales that much, and if things will be easier or harder for it.

She rises without his prompting, pausing to scrape her teeth along the sharp angle of his jaw. “Is that what you had planned for the evening?” she asks, soothing the quickly-fading marks with the slow glide of her tongue.

“Not quite,” he admits. His nerves are screaming with the need to be inside her, inside her now, and she knows it. She holds herself just above the head of his cock, waiting for the rest of his answer. “We’re waiting for an alchemist.”

“An alchemist,” she breathes, sinking slowly down, too slow and too perfect, and for a split-second all he can do is feel. “Why would you need an alchemist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, can’t answer, not with the way she knows just how to move for him. “She’s – she doesn’t know it, but she’s – yes, like that,” he says, lifting a hand free to touch her hip, then brush a thick lock of hair away from her face.

“Tell me,” she says, hands slipping down to his chest, pushing his shirt aside. Her nails dig white crescent moons in his skin.

“She’s making something for me,” Greed hisses, grabbing her hips, finally driving deep and hard. He growls a curse, doing it again, and again, and she fights his rhythm until he starts to speak again.

“She fell in love with him,” he says, hands slipping over her ribcage, thumbs curling under her breasts before sliding down again. He tells her everything, the rumours, the planning, the timing; he knows he’s telling more than he should, but it’s hard to care when his body is flush with pleasure and the anticipation of having something new, something his.

His breathing is harsh, his attention focused on the coiling heat in his belly when he says, “She’s up there right now. Trying to rebuild him.”

“You’re here for another homunculus,” she says, fingers curling in his hair. She jerks his head back. “One she doesn’t know about,” she breathes into his mouth, lips brushing his, so much more than a kiss. “One just for you.”

Greed feels his entire body shudder, lips silently forming her words. The new homunculus would be his; his, not hers. Not even a bit hers. He hisses, “Yes,” and tries to kiss her again.

She grinds against him, hard enough to hurt, and tightens her fists in his hair. “You stupid fuck,” she murmurs, and he feels sharp teeth slice through his lip.

He snarls and grabs for her dress as she rolls away. It slips easily from his grasping claws, shrinking, vanishing in a blinding flash of light. “Envy!” he growls, grabbing again, feeling solid flesh under his claws seconds before hot blood flows down his arm. Greed hears Envy’s sharp gasp of pain and jerks him back, pinning him to the stained coverlet with razor claws at his wrists.

“I’m not afraid of her,” he says, staring down into familiar purple eyes. Envy hisses at him, beautiful face twisted into an animal snarl. He smiles; the threat of claws slicing through flesh is enough to keep Envy his for now. “And I’m not stupid enough to think I owe her anything.”

“As long as she thinks you owe her something, you do,” Envy snaps, twisting free. “How the hell do you think you’d be able to keep her away from him?” Nails rake down his chest, slicing through flesh and muscle before the shield blocks it, and Envy goes straight for his throat.

Greed bares his teeth, deadly claws closing around Envy’s slender throat. “With your help,” he mouths, not enough breath left to speak. He should be dead by now; Envy’s holding back, and that’s not like him at all. Before Envy can refuse, Greed snaps his neck.

He strips Envy’s half-formed clothes away, gasping for breath, and glances quickly at the clock. It will start soon. Things aren’t going quite as he’d intended, and as he watches the light flare back to life in Envy’s eyes, he admits to himself that they never really do.

“Why do you think I brought you here?” Greed says, catching Envy’s hand as it shoots for his throat. His fingertips idly stroke the mark on Envy’s thigh, calm and gently soothing.

Envy lets Greed push him back to the bed, even stretches his arms up over the pillows with nothing more than a little nudge. “You’ve already stolen some of the red stones,” he says.

“Oh, yes,” Greed says, smiling broadly. He dips his head to lick at the soft skin beneath Envy’s ear. Dealing with Envy always did keep him on his toes. “Enough to feed the new one and make it whole.” When Envy says nothing, Greed nuzzles his neck and slips a knee between his thighs. “She’s too busy picking out a pretty new body to notice how much is gone.”

“Tell me one last thing,” Envy says, his skin glowing momentarily before the shift ripples over him again, leaving Ada’s naked body in his place. “What makes you so sure I’ll help you?” he asks, whispering the girl’s rich voice into Greed’s ear.

“Because I need you to help me,” Greed says, still aching with the need to finish what they started. Envy’s legs spread, wrap around his waist. “Because I want you to help me,” he says, licking sweat from his lip. “And what else do you have to do today, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Envy says, hips lifting, urging Greed to take what he wants.

“Not like that,” he says, tucking his arms under Envy’s shoulders and rolling over. Greed slides his cock over slick heat, groans with more than anticipation. Something tugs at his blood, makes the want stirring in his body churn.

“It’s starting,” he tells Envy, needlessly. His fingers slip between the cheeks of Envy’s ass, press his dick against tight muscle. “Shift for me,” he half-groans, half-growls, and shoves Envy down.

Envy’s body snaps taut, spine bowed, a scream caught in his throat. Under Greed’s hands, soft curves turn to lean muscle. The quiet sounds falling from Envy’s parted lips change tone, become harsher, harder, as he pushes deeper. Energy crackles along his skin, lighting invisible leylines, and he can feel Envy shift from the inside.

Everything is tight pressure, suffocating; he fights to breathe the heavy air. “Say it,” Greed hisses, brutal claws sinking slowly into Envy’s sides. Envy thrashes, falling forward, and he feels teeth slice his neck. Long limbs tangle around him, blunt nails score his skin.

Greed forces the shield back, wraps an arm around Envy’s back to brace him. “Say you’ll help me,” he says, words whispered harsh. He imagines he can see it all: the foolish girl’s fear of her creation, the air too thick with power to breathe, Envy’s pale skin bearing the marks of his claws. “Say it.” His hips lift entirely off the bed, desperate to drive deeper into clutching heat, desperate for more.

He tries to kiss Envy, quick, fevered touches that taste candy-sweet on his lips. Envy hisses agreement into his mouth, breath mixing as everything peaks. Head tossed back, lips parted, eyes dazed, hair caught like black slashes across his throat, Envy says it.

Hot friction turns to slick heat, still tight, still perfect. Envy sags against him, hips jerking, muscles twitching with every slow thrust. The crackling atmosphere lessens, Envy makes one last sound that could be protest or pleasure. Greed looks to the clock, then to the ceiling, tucking a strand of hair behind Envy’s ear as he sits up.

It’s quiet, the air eerily free of the screams he expected. He smoothes a hand down Envy’s back, and presses a brief kiss to his shoulder. The attempt either killed the girl, or she’s close enough to dead that it hardly matters.

“We’ll have to fetch him now,” Greed says, and pushes a hand under the thick warmth of Envy’s hair. “I don’t suppose we should leave him up there in that mess.”

Envy stirs lazily, hums something low in his throat. He lifts his head slowly, blinks pleasure-hazed eyes, and says, “You’d best hope he likes you.”

Greed grins, all knife-edged satisfaction. “What’s not to like?” he asks, and kisses Envy again.


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