The Hand That Feeds You

Greed/Envy. G. ~150 words.
Possessive fingers stroked Envy’s bare skin.

Greed lounged in the antique sitting chair, eyes glazed, left arm draped casually over Envy’s thigh. He licked the corner of his mouth, drawing in a slow breath.

Envy, perched lazily on the chair’s arm, dropped his chin into his palm. “Like that?” he asked, smiling happily.

Dilated pupils gradually narrowed, the dazed look in Greed’s eyes receding like a sluggish tide. “Fuck,” he breathed. Possessive fingers stroked Envy’s bare skin, already giving in to the ever-present urge to own. “That’s good stuff. Why don’t I remember that?”

“We never do,” Envy replied, smile slanting into something more devious. He curled his hand into a fist, and when he spread his fingers again, another glossy red stone sat in his palm. “Do you want more?”

Greed tumbled Envy into his lap, idle touch replaced by a hard, demanding grip. “Now there’s a stupid question,” he said, eager light jumping into his eyes.


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