In all seriousness though, this is all 18+ shit. If that is not your thing, TURN BACK NOW, take the $200s and run. This is where all the nasty threads go.
[The warning still doesn't prepare her for the overall presentation of his offering.
Her hunter's gaze tracks the shield's retreat until it disappears beneath the collar of his shirt, her booze-addled brain not quite caught up with what exactly he was suggesting until he's already brought the claw to his throat. Before she can even open her mouth to refuse, that tough hide of his is split, glistening crimson already seeping from the wound.
Greed is not human. He was never human. But beneath the carbon and leather he smells of the things humans are made of, metallic like blood and the salt of sweat and flesh. Like nearly everyone she's met since she was turned, he has a unique scent and a flavor all his own, one she would be embarrassed to admit she was curious to try... So she should be grateful that she's being given the opportunity and not turn it down, right? It's being willingly given. Required, it would seem, considering the seal has already been broken.
The light in her eyes flickers with an inhuman glow, laser-focused on the wound he's created. If she doesn't clean it up now, it will soak into his shirt and that would be a shame, wouldn't it? Losing time to come up with an argument against whatever justification she's trying to make for this, she finally closes the distance between them with an exasperated growl, slipping her arms around his waist to pull his body flush against hers. He's hot and solid and heavy and yet she's got him cradled like he doesn't weigh a thing. This chaotic, feral energy of his shouldn't be so enticing, it shouldn't make her crave everything he's made of, but it does— he does.
The flat of her tongue draws deft along the length of his throat, lapping up the wayward crimson trail towards its origin, her eyelids fluttering closed as she latches on, fighting her urge to bite again, as she had with Fearless barely an hour before. Seras was able to stop herself and keep from taking everything from him, but what if she couldn't do it a second time? Something tells her Greed wouldn't be quite as lenient if she took more than she was offered from someone like him. So instead, she'll settle for suckling instead, carefully drawing his blood from the wound alone.
The flavor itself is different, some odd mixture of notes she couldn't quite place right off the top of her tipsy little head, but the flavor doesn't matter nearly as much as the near-instantaneous buzz she receives from it, like double-fisting espresso shots before your shift. She pulls away quickly, lips parted in surprise and smeared with blood.]
Whoa.
[Her chest heaves with the subconscious need for air, unnecessary as it is, the sudden overwhelming surge of energy firing up her nerves, prickling up and down her spine.]
What... why... why do you... [She sounds like she's run a whole marathon, breathless and panting, looking a little unsteady on her feet again. She reaches out for him.]
[He can feel that tongue on his throat, taking him in, drinking him for all his worth. And all he can think about is more. How she can have more, how she can take more, how she shouldn't be hesitating when they're this far into it. She's a predator just like him. A predator with teeth and a thirst that can never, truly, be quenched.]
[There's no heartbeat for her to have with him, but that. That he can satisfy.]
[Greed's smile is nothing but a crescent moon in the bar's dim; a razor blade with a thousand serrated edges.] Mn. That's a secret - [He speaks, and his breath is catching. Raw. She has him wrapped up in her arms like a lover, but that doesn't mean he can't move. And move, he does. He isn't fast, but subtle. And as he slides along the wall, he blindly feels out the surface with a free hand.]
[A door knob answers him finally - its soft rattle enough of an invitation.] - but before we get to that, I think you can do a bit better. Like this. [Warning, what warning? What's the point when they're already here, in the middle of it all, without a care in the world? Greed throws his head forward, his mouth open, and with both, he delivers all of those sharp affirmations. He sinks his teeth into the dip of her shoulder to anchor him there while his foot kicks out behind him, throwing the door to a supply closet wide open while a few of its bolts wiggle out of the place.]
[Because now, he's going. Moving fast, dragging her with him, like a shadow taking the light. The door snaps shut behind them and he throws his back up against a shelf or two, taking down cans, breaking a beam, and scattering all sorts of clutter that can be saved for tomorrow.]
[Because now. Now is the time she should have her fill.]
[Greed's breath is hot, too hot, as he exhales around the clamp of his jaws. His hands are on her as much as hers are on him; his nails gently wandering over the inches of her back like a man possessed by the number of bones. He growls, and it's as if it's coming not from his throat, but his chest. From somewhere deep below, deep down, and not even Hell itself could go so far.]
[The former homunculus lashes his tail, tossing a stack of papers off a crate to make them scatter like dollars. He releases his mouth and kisses his signature.] Sit. [He hisses as he tries to spin them around, only to knock a few more odds and ends into a pile that is steadily growing under them.] Sit and show me everything you are, Seras Victoria.
No amount of warning could have prepared her for what comes next. How could she have possibly guessed that he would bite back?
There's barely time to mutter a "huh" before she's paralyzed, a rabbit clamped in the jaws of a wolf. Her limbs fall heavy as lead at her sides, every choice that led up to this moment flashing before her mind's eye in a desperate search for where she went wrong. Before she knows it, she's being jostled about in a closet, making a mess of things as her wings flap and tail thrashes about across the shelves, wiping them bare.]
G-Greed— [The bat gasps, trembling hands grasping uselessly for something to grab onto, that bastard's penchant for shrink-wrapping himself in his clothing making it nearly impossible for her to find purchase anywhere to try and tug him off. ...Not that she could even if she wanted to, not without him taking a chunk out of her.
But now, It's happening again. That ache deep in her core, begging desperately for something she can't explain, a sensation so foreign and powerful she can't decide whether to chase it or run far, far from it.
Fearless had triggered it briefly earlier in the night when he'd allowed her to feed, the rush leaving her hungry for more than just his blood, but uncertain what else she could possibly need. The search for that answer may have continued with him if she hadn't knocked the poor guy out, but it seems Greed may have to be the one to pick up his slack.
Is it a fight? Does the predator in her want this to be a kill more than a meal? That can't be. She knows when she wants someone dead. Then why does she want to throw her body at him, clamp down and never let go? What the hell could that possibly mean?
He releases her and she loses her balance for a moment, catching herself against the already-disheveled shelves before she steadies herself again. Burning red eyes leer curiously up at her feral friend through a curtain of blonde and burgundy, a low rumbling emanating from her chest, accompanying that of the former homunculus as he makes his demands of her. This feeling is more familiar than the one twisting at her guts; a powerful, nigh-immortal being challenging her to prove her worth and to show him exactly why she was chosen.]
This is an odd place for a fight, isn't it? [The vampire lilts, soft like velvet, suggesting wordlessly that perhaps he may not like it if he rubs her the wrong way.
She does not sit. Seras stands firm before him, meeting Avarice eye to eye. The crook of her neck throbs in sync with the pulsing in her core, that feeling making itself known once again.]
If that's what you wanted, you should've just asked.
[It's carnage on the dance floor, and they're the pair that made it. A single bottle of wine rolls along a shelf half holding; its stopper ripped clean to pour and chug rich, sweet nothings as the silence holds between them. She says fight like she means it, and she asks her question like there's no other option.]
[And still, the bottle spews, emptying itself slowly to tick away the seconds.]
[Greed drops away from her and his arms go out to his sides and over his head. But instead of a lash or a punch, what follows is another one of his laughs. Another one of those bold, boasting laughs that makes his head snap back and the bones his neck crick and crack.] Aha AHAHAHAHA! Oh, no. No, no - [He catches himself when he realizes she's serious (dead serious), and his head flops forward. The light in the closet (with its flutters, flicks, and occasional buzz) do nothing to help his case. For every shudder it gives, his eyes answer: purple, red, purple, red.]
[The former homunculus waves his wrist as he takes a lazy step forward.] I'm not interested in fighting you, sweetheart. Is that what you thought this was? [He blinks at her, confused yet still so focused. Then, a thought snaps into place.] Wait. What did you think I was doing?
[The toes of his boots pat in the pool of wine spreading on the floor and ah, ah. He's getting close again, but it's different. Different like he's inspecting her, like he's checking for something he could never, truly see. Greed's eyes narrow and his mouth squeezes together into a small pucker. With his face in close, he raises a single eyebrow.] Did you - have you ever - ?
[Has she ever what. But he just assumed, didn't he? Because stories were just that: stories. Sometimes, they had a lick of truth to them, and other times, they were fantastic tales. Humans, after all, had a talent for imagination. So, as he bows over his hips to really, really, look at her, he has to ask:]
Fucked. Have you ever been fucked before? [Blunt, thy name is avarice. The Sin's tail flicks out behind him and in that moment, he's almost like a cat. Like a cat checking something to confirm whether it's alive or dead.] I thought being a vampire and all, you'd -
[Greed puts a hand to his face, smothering it with his claws. He can't hide his smile, though. And how genuine it is. Just his luck, isn't it? He thought he was being clear about it all. And Seras, she had sobered up after having a taste, didn't she?]
[Oh, how wrong, wrong, wrong he'd been. Never mind being on the right page, they weren't (aren't) even speaking the same language.]
[The former homunculus spreads his legs, making his boots line up with either side of hers.] Ah, shit. I'm sorry about that, lovely. Must have gotten the whole thing wrong. [He drops his hand, freeing that all-too-snide expression.] I figured that's kind of what vampires do. Guess the stories are just that, huh? [He shoves his elbow out to rest it behind her and one of the shelves finally gives way; the bulk of it crashing and splintering out onto the floor.]
Thought you and Fearless - [He sends a look to the ceiling, to the lightbulb, to another mess he'll have to clean up later.] - ah, well.
[And there he goes, rubbing her the wrong way one second and then making her remember why she likes him the next. He's a shark-toothed beastie who seems to get a real kick out of teasing and riling her up to get a reaction, but he's always willing to apologize if he manages to go over the line. How is it possible that she's gotten more genuine sincerity out of a monster than a man? The way he smiles- and the way he's trying to hide it, like he might actually know the concept of shame despite his devil-may-care attitude - only lends to his credit; he's seriously sorry here, isn't he?
Her attention flicks from his eyes to his mouth as he questions her, that heart shaped nose of hers scrunching indignantly at the bridge with his (accurate) accusations. She doesn't want to answer him, to give him another reason to laugh at how fucking oblivious she is, but he's right. Despite her appearance and given abilities, Seras is a virgin, and at this juncture she isn't really sure how he wouldn't have noticed. She's gangly and awkward- especially in this hell-altered body- and can't flirt to save her life, much less clock when someone else is actively flirting with her.... But now she has to wonder: have Fearless and Greed been genuinely flirting with her this whole time? They're not just general flirt-with-everybody flirts, casting their flirt-nets into the dating pool to see what ass they can dredge up? It hadn't occurred to her that this could, in fact, be personal.
Both can probably be true, but Seras is unfortunately a little slow on the uptake...]
I-- I'm still new to the whole vampire thing, okay... I-I only died a few months ago. ...Or, un-died. Wh-whatever! [She huffs, brows furrowing with her petulant pout.]
I- I just haven't had the chance! That's all.
[But hey, at least now she gets it. It may behoove the former homunculus to always be so blunt with her, because she can't miss the point if he's literally in her face about it.]
B-but, ah. No! No, Fearless and I-- I mean. We maybe... Could have? But. He. Fell asleep.
[Booze-blasted as Fearless was, he still gave her enough to work with that she could, quite possibly, pick up where she left off but with a new partner instead. This one doesn't even need sleep, can heal his own wounds and now that she knows exactly what he was trying to do by dragging her in here, is probably pretty unlikely to pass the fuck out before things get good.]
I-it's not. Important.
[Damn, he loves to be close to her, doesn't he? Over the past few weeks, she's noticed that he's always up in somebody's business, like he just never understood personal space, but never really applied that same perspective to herself. How much longer would she have gone without noticing if she'd never taken his offer?
It doesn't really matter though, her eyes are open now. ...and they seem to be struggling to focus on anything but his features. She's watching his mouth again, that blood-smeared pit of razorblades somehow as tempting as it is terrifying.
Thinking about it... She should. Help him clean that up. Right? He's a mess. It's only polite. Plus, she doesn't want to further the Fearless conversation, she already knows he's going to laugh his ass off about it, and if she cuts him off at the pass, maybe she can avoid the secondhand embarrassment...
Resolute, she swallows her nerves and dives in, intent on wiping that smug look off his face. Both hands reach up to cradle that strong, jutting jaw of his in her palms, pulling him forward to press her lips roughly against his, hopefully making her decision- her desire -known.]
[A day after all this goes down, Greed's back at his hotel room. It's a slow enough day at the 'Nest that skipping out for a night isn't going to bother anyone. Besides, he's captain of that particular ship. If he wants to bounce, who the hell is going to stop him?]
[No one, that's who.]
[So, he leaves a note taped to the back of the bar ("Taking the night off. If something happens, call or do that text thing. Whatever. Otherwise, I think the lot of you can handle it.") and spends the rest of his hours cleaning up his space. Most of the stuff he's collected has, thankfully, been moved over to the basement of the Devil's Nest. Course, there's still .. some shit everywhere: a few street signs nailed to the wall, unused scratch tickets on the kitchen counter, various packs of smokes tucked away into corners like the worst game of I-Spy. And never mind the sheer volume of knickknacks and cash rolls he's got. Those? Those are everywhere.]
[But it is neater and easy to move around in, so. Don't judge a man, huh?]
[The Sin leans back on a sofa, his one hand cradling a glass of iced scotch. He's not sure what to expect. He knows the Devil is going to show him something? With his phone? But other than that?]
[Well, time would tell, wouldn't it?]
[Greed takes a healthy sip and tilts the glass, admiring how the pink neon strokes at the ice. Hell doesn't have a sun, so this is as close to a sunset as he typically gets. A little sliver of it, forever trapped in his drink.]
[ no one's going to stop him. which is good, because lucifer would be extremely annoyed. it's not like he owns greed or anything and he'd never try to, he's not that kind of guy, but still, having your plans interrupted sucks. so much.
but that's not going to happen. lucifer has no engagements for the night other than this either: the only thing he'd bail for at this point is charlie needing him, but he's pretty sure that isn't going to happen. he's trying not to think about how he hasn't seen her much lately, because he'll get lost in it and he can do that on his own time. when he doesn't have plans.
and he's not going to mind the clutter. he'll think it's charming, likely: the rolls of money will ping familiar to a certain someone, but he who will not be fucking named because it will ruin the night wouldn't have any of the other things. knicknacks, that is. lucifer, on the other hand, with his workshop full of rubber ducks, is the perfect person to appreciate the sentiment.
he's directly on time, literally poofing into existence at the door from across the hotel. he can't portal anywhere important or between realms, but he can do some tricksy magic still, and it's quicker than taking the elevator. he is a little nervous, but he's dealing with it. he's not going to chicken out.
he fidgets, briefly, in front of the door.
then he knocks.
when greed opens the door, lucifer is in a carefully chosen statement piece, though he does currently have an open suit jacket over the top that partially hides how tightly it's cinched at the waist. it's also white, with gold trim and a couple of gold chains keeping it in place like his normal outfit (with some almost criminally tight pants to boot), but it's obviously not the main event. no gloves today, his dark, almost chitinous hands and claws on display, and he tips his head back (and back, and back) to grin up at the homunculus when he appears. ]
Hey! So, we were gonna set your speed dial contacts?
[ oh-so-innocently. yeah, that. sure. he wonders, briefly, how quickly he can push enough buttons to make him snap. a fun experiment for both of them! everyone wins. ]
Edited (I JUST NOTICED A TYPO DONT LOOK AT ME I ALWAYS SPELL HOMUNCULUS WRONG) 2024-06-23 01:45 (UTC)
[There's a knock at the door and oh, he doesn't know the trouble that's waiting for him. Greed throws the deadbolt, twists the lock, and as it all wheezes open, he's prepared for something very different. Sure, the Devil is good on the eyes most (all) days: that he can't deny. But as the hallway comes into view and he sees just what is in store for him, well. To say that it stops him dead in his tracks would be putting it mildly.]
[For once, the tables have been fucking turned.]
[The Sin curls up into the doorframe, trying to shove that temperature of his down low, low, low. With his ankles laced together, he eases his hip against the inside door; his demeanor as lax as always.] Right. [He numbly finds the word, but it doesn't quite register. The thing about avarice? It always knows what it wants. It knows what it wants, when it wants, who it wants. As such, his eyes wander and fishtail behind his sunglasses along each and every inch he can take in: the gold trim, the chains, the hint of a tight-pulled waist, Lucifer's exposed throat. He doesn't even notice as the tips of his nails bite into his glass, nor does he hear it when they leave behind the smallest of pricks. Oh, no. He's too caught up in the spectacle of it all. And once again, the rattle at the end of his tail betrays his every want. It's trill lazy, but no less charmed:]
[Chh.Chh. Chhhh.]
[He takes a pull from the glass, letting the burn of scotch shock him back to the present.] Yeah, you were gunna show me how to set that up. Though, looks like I may have pulled you from something. Special occasion? [Greed turns, pinning the door open with his foot as he waltzes on in.] Hope you didn't cut it short just because of this little thing.
[Once inside, he forgets his drink on the kitchen counter.] Don't tend to come up here very often, so sorry I don't have as much as I do back at the 'Nest. [The former homunculus feels out his sides, his hips, if only to do something with his hands.]
Not a drinker, I know. Got a case of the ginger stuff. Want one? [The Sin crouches down to rip open the door of a mini fridge. And for once, he's thankfully for its chill.]
[ lucifer knows exactly what he's doing, and greed's response as soon as he opens the door cements that he's made the right decision. it might not be a good decision, but it's the right one. his grin is a little too cute instead of knowing or dark, but that's made up for when he hums and shrugs a shoulder, passing into the room once the homunculus makes room in the doorway, reaching out to touch his arm. it's brief, a short squeeze, but it's pointed as he steps by.
he does huff a laugh though and shake his head, moving to lean against the counter with his elbows resting on it so he can watch greed fuss around for the drink. ]
I just like looking nice, Greed. And what better time for it than a social call? And sure, I'd appreciate one. Thanks!
[ the rattle of greed's tail sends the tiniest shiver through him, though it's not visible when it does. he glances down toward it though, not glancing back up until he has to turn back toward greed to face him properly instead of at an angle. lucifer knows his own good side: the cant of his hips is subtle, but enough to make sure that one side of the jacket slips juuuust a tiny bit to expose more of his waist. just in case the tease wasn't enough, of course. ]
I don't normally socialize either, and you've already gotten it out of me on multiple occasions.
[Being distracted makes this a whole lot easier, and going through the bartending motions? Even more so. Greed grabs two bottles of ginger beer from the fridge and knuckles them between his fingers.] Ha - ! [He barks, sending a hot laugh back into the cooler before snapping it shut with his knee.] Well, if it's any consolation, I think you've always looked nice. Just figured a guy like you tends to be pretty busy.
[The Sin stands, turns, and catches the bottom of the kitchen counter with his toe. A momentary flicker (a beat really) of something flashes across his face. Concern? Intrigue? Embarrassment? Whatever it is, he quickly shrugs it off with that same old signature grin of his.]
Don't get me wrong. I socialize all the time. [He shakes his head and slides the tops of the bottles underneath the fake-granite countertop.] Just the people I visit tend to be a little demanding. [He pauses to slam his fist down, prying both bottle caps loose with a pop of fizz.]
Not that I care. I've told them to. Ah - [He collects the caps before setting down one of the bottles near Lucifer.] - but that's a shame. You gunna start working on that? Seeing some people? You should, y'know. Kind of a waste just sittin' around here all by yourself, hmn? [He waggles his finger. Because he can.] Remember, there's a whole world out there. Don't make me give you the same talk again, Luce.
[Greed takes a very long, very healthy sip from the bottle. It's not booze, but it gives a different sort of burn that's a welcome one right now. How it touches his throat and teases at the back of his nose, setting him right back into the now of things.]
[He tilts his head, showing off his own throat, and finishes about half before coming up for air again.] About this Speed Dial thing. What do you want for it? Came all this way, think I owe you something for the trouble. [And he doesn't think the Devil takes cash on a regular basis. But that's an assumption.]
[The former homunculus snatches his scotch and sidesteps in front of Lucifer. Though, not without trying to give him a slight graze of his elbow. Two could play that game.] I'd say whatever you want, but I think you've got most of that covered, huh?
[Foxxy's isn't the nicest strip club in Hell, but it certainly isn't the worst either. It's somewhere in the middle; a little place tucked down an alleyway, strung up in low-dim neon, and made specifically for meetings like this, where no one is going to ask a single fucking question.]
[Greed's already waiting outside the non-descript door, cigarette partly finished, and a grin on his face. In the club's limelight of blue, he takes on a ghostly kind of appearance - like a black cat waiting and bringing nothing, no nothing, but bad, bad luck.]
[However, that's not the case tonight, is it? No. Tonight, maybe, they'll finally clear the air, get some shit settled, and leave a bit more satisfied than when they arrived. Blitzø's always been a wild one. It was only a matter of time before it came to this.]
[The Sin licks one of his teeth as he drags his heel off the pipes of his motorcycle, making the steel of it screech violence along the chrome. And as a few sparks pepper the sidewalk, he gently pinches the cigarette between his claws.]
[This is an evening for the simpler things, of the less complicated, and oh, oh, oh, is he ready for it.]
[Blitzø would be lying if he said he hadn't ever considered what it might be like to fuck Greed; most people he met he at least reflected on it for a second (which was not always the best of mental images) but he'd put a little more thought into it a few times since and especially given the sin's returned interest.
It felt like the best way to work things out too. Not that he had an issue with Greed, but the sin sure did seem to want to prove that he wasn't anything like Mammon and what better way than a little getting down and dirty with an imp?
...actually that probably didn't prove dick since Blitzø was pretty sure Mammon would fuck an imp if he could make a quick buck out of it, but he was horny and Greed was hot as fuck so he'd take it. It's a better distraction than half the other shit he'd been worrying about lately. With Stolas and Verosika gone, he was starting to worry a little about certain others and at least this was a chance to put all of that down for a while.
All he was going to do tonight was have a good fucking time and see which of them left with more bite marks and bruises the next day.
Spotting Greed waiting near the door, Blitzø grins and slides right on up into his space, tail curling around Greed's leg as he practically purrs up at the much taller man.]
[He isn't surprised when Blitzø takes charge of the situation. The man had warned him, countless times, about how this may play out, and how the tables would be flipped on him for once. But that's the thing, isn't it? He likes a good surprise as much as the next. And as he feels that tail wrap around his leg, the Sin slowly pinches his cigarette, plucking it from his jaws while another thread of smoke kisses his lip.]
Mn. Demanding, aren't you? [Greed clips the cigarette between two of his fingers and reaches to Blitzø's face, bringing the smoke to his mouth with a soft, chiding purr.] Good. It's what I like about you, Blitzø. Keep up that ambition of yours, and we'll see what it gets ya by the end of the night.
[But where would the fun be if he just laid back and took it? No, there's no thrill in that at all. And he wants a thrill; one that'll distract him, let him lose himself for a while. So, as Sin's tail chitters, a rattlesnake's admission of pleased, he spreads his fingers along the man's face.] I'll admit, you've always been an interesting guy. You don't take shit from anyone. Not the ones runnin' this place, not the people from that other Hell of yours. Ha - ! [He barks, his laugh subtle and smoggy with traces of tobacco.] Know just what you want, all of 'em be damned.
[When he pulls his hand away, he makes a point of tracing out Blitzø's jaw with his claw; the curved of it tucked in, a tease of his sharpness.] Finish it off. Then, let's get you what you came here for. Sound fair enough to you, handsome?
[Blitzø isn't opposed to taking instead of giving, but it would be a mistake for anyone to assume he'd immediately roll over and not make it a challenge. Greed is right that he doesn't take shit and doesn't give up without a fight for anyone, and this is no different.
He's pretty damn sure Greed won't mind in the slightest though, and he grins lazily as the sin leans in to bring the cigarette closer.]
I'm hoping it gets us both well and truly fucked. [His tongue, surprisingly dextrous as all imps' are, flicks tantalisingly against Greed's fingers before he takes a drag from the smoke, letting it curl past his teeth as he exhales.] Fuck that's good shit.
[As is the tease of fingers against his face and jaw, the spines on his upper back flaring as it sends a curl of pleasure through him.] But that's what you fucking like, isn't it? Fuckers who know exactly what they like and what they want, especially if they want it bad, huh?
[He grins and, just as Greed's fingers start to slip away, turns his head fast enough to nip at the pads with sharp teeth.]
And I always know what I fucking want when it comes to this. [He takes one last drag before tossing the cigarette and dragging Greed down and into a hard kiss.]
[And his smile, oh his smile: it stretches on his face, predatory and biting. There's no point in beating around the bush. They're here for one thing and one thing only.]
[So, when Blitzø's tongue skates across his fingers, the Sin sucks briskly at the corner of his mouth; a little pop of noise and oh, is it all ego.] Of course it is. I demand the finest, after all. Wouldn't really be right to call myself greed if I didn't deliver, hmn?
[Red like fire, red like churned coals, rakes behind his sunglasses. It's a tease, really. A bit of his making, bleeding through the lenses. Greed huffs from his nose.] You've got it. Want, desire - there's no point in denying it, but some of the people here are a real pain in the ass about it. What's the point? No. [He opens his mouth to click his teeth together twice. Clk, clk.] Everything you need, everything you want. Show me what you got, friend. And I'll be sure to do you the favor.
[The bite to his fingers makes him hiss, but not in a way that's angry. Instead, there's something very much pleased about it; like a snake, charmed by the challenge.] Good. I wouldn't have it any other way. [Which is why he doesn't even bother fighting when Blitzø drags him into a kiss. The hardness, the roughness of it all: he returns it point for point. His snapping teeth and rattling tongue threatening static in his mouth.]
[Greed tries to walk them backward and with a blind kick to the front door, he slaps it open, making it bang on its hinges. If anyone happens to be in the way, well. That's their problem, isn't it? Because he'll lead them back, if he can. Back to the front counter, unbothered by whatever obstacle may be in his direct path.]
[Closing time. It's late and Nanami and Seras have already let the rest of the staff go for the night with the promise that they would complete the last tasks and lock up on the way out. Not that the Nest is ever closed or locked for long, but still a formality they like to observe.
Of course, it devolves fairly quickly into the two of them having a nightcap or three which inevitably ends up with an aggressive make-out session in the hall. But Nanami has other ideas, and he's finally feeling up to trying one out.
It's not really a feat for either Seras or Nanami to be able to carry the other, but that doesn't mean the accountant doesn't enjoy doing it all the same. And tonight it gives him the ability to take Seras somewhere special: Greed's office.
The mess has long since stopped bothering him, there's only so much you can do against the hoarding tendencies of avarice incarnate, and so long as there isn't rotting food or unaccounted for valuables he leaves it alone. But being that comfortable with it also means he doesn't mind clearing the desk with one hand so he can set Seras down there and really get to work.]
I suggest you remove anything you don't want me to tear off of you, darling.
[It takes her a moment to catch her breath enough to speak, having spent the last few minutes getting swept away by this typhoon of a man. Quite literally, considering he piked her up and carried her in here slung over his shoulder like a sack of sexy potatoes. Of course, Seras wouldn't be fulfilling her role as Resident Brat if she made it easy for him-- reaching down as far as she can to smack and grab a cheek or two (or three or eight) during the walk, kicking her legs with no real intent of freeing herself from her uncertain but assuredly satisfying end.
Nanami did say they weren't going to do it in his office anymore, but somehow Greed's office was on the table? And yet nowhere near the realm of possibilities for where she thought they'd end up tonight; she would have put money on the less-than-secret bathroom before this brazen display--]
What're we-- [No sooner had she processed the location of their lurid rendezvous than she finds herself on her boss's desk, receiving a warning and what she's going to assume is a countdown before another outfit meets an untimely (but necessary) end. Her initial reaction is to obey; first goes a few accessories, dropped right next to the desk (surely she'll have the presence of mind to grab them and they won't get lost in the sea of expensive shit) but looking down to consider the dress she's opted for tonight, she must weigh the options of finding another like it or simply undressing herself... which, one is more ridiculous than the other but the other is so inconvenient...]
I did just get this dress, so--
She pauses, head swimming, gripping the hem of her skirt before she turns an accusatory pout his way.]
Wait, hold on-- First, you carry me in here like a brute-- [With a rolled "r" for dramatic effect and seemingly unable to hold that pout for long. She's all giggles and fangs after a moment.] And now you're making me undress myself? Chivalry has gone out the window-- [She can't even keep a straight face... Those last few shots really hit, didn't they.]
If we don't take it off, it will get dirty with... other things.
[As much as he wants to brute force his way to what he wants, he has to pause when she calls him out. He reaches up to pull his tie off, giving himself a moment to think. This is probably just brat-ery and he should 'punish' her, but there's still a grain of truth there. This is his beautiful lady and he should be treating her well. So he decides to split the difference.]
I will be sure to make it up to you on my knees shortly. But first, be a good girl and turn around for me.
[A quick look around the piles of riches around him finds him exactly what he hopes for, a knife with a jeweled handle and a decently sharp blade. He can still get the naughty thrill of ruining her clothes, but this way she can get them fixed and wear them again.]
[Laughing still, she turns as instructed and places her hands on the desktop, spreading her legs as if preparing to be stopped and frisked (it is simply procedure after all) pushing her hips out just enough to give a suggestive wiggle, her tail whipping side to side in anticipation.
A quick glance over her shoulder turns into a wide-eyed stare when she realizes what he's holding.]
A-ah... You know I was just messin' with you, right? [Aheh?]
[He flashes the knife at her and then decides against ruining her otherwise nice dress and tosses it aside into a pile of money. He can unzip her dress the old fashioned way and give her kisses and little teasing bites down her back as he does.]
I suppose I'll just have to find a different way to ruin you tonight, my little devil.
[Her ass gets a little smack while she's wiggling it and he wraps his hand around her tail and strokes it from base to tip just to get a reaction out of her.]
[Once the elevator doors shut however, he wastes no time. Greed lashes out, claws open, as he tries to tangle them in Michael's tie. Part of him knows he may be tearing it, but most of him doesn't care in the least. He's waited long enough. He's held back long enough. Desperation does funny things to men, and he? He's no exception. It's always there. That want of his more similar to an infection, building itself to a fever.]
[He makes an effort to slam the Archangel against the number pad as he blindly presses the key for upstairs. Whether it rings or not, he doesn't know. The pounding in his ears is too loud. The drum in his skull is screaming.]
["I want it to be you," he'd said, and his core had answered back:]
["You have no fucking idea."]
[Greed shoves his hips forward, trying to pin Michael down; a flight risk, instantly grounded. He feels his claws dig into the elevator's steel frame and as the metal of it groans, as ribbons of it curl under his nails in tight-spun wheels, the former homunculus catches his breath as he inhales close to Michael's throat.] Do me a favor, a real one this time.
[The edges of his teeth press against his gums as they try to stretch and twist into tusks. The Sin swallows to urge them down.] And don't fucking think.
After the doors close everything happens so quickly that his mind immediately shifts into battle mode, with both of his arms reaching out to grasp at a pair of the arms belonging to the former homunculus. Even his eyes glow for a moment before he is able to mentally talk himself back down, so he doesn't retaliate. This is not a battle, at least not at the present time. Better yet, this is one battle he doesn't mind losing. ]
.. Greed!
[ It sounds like a reprimand at first because it is, he was expecting a leisurely stroll not to be manhandled so suddenly. His back hits the panel with a dull thud mere moments after he puts his wings away, but he still lets out a hiss at the contact. The dull ache comes with one bonus, it reminds him that they are both present in the moment and the effects of the chocolate have waned.
Fuck the tie, the tie is the last thing on his mind right now. Pulling on it draws their faces closer together and, upon feeling the exhale against his neck, he tilts his head back to expose more of it. Every natural instinct is telling him how dangerous this is, to turn back now and avoid a possible injury, but he wants this — he wants him — in all of his unholy glory.
The unfamiliar pressure when their hips meet has him gritting his teeth but not pulling away, letting out a half-groan. The hands against his arms pull away to allow him to grab the ends of his vest and slowly urge him even closer. When that's done, he reaches up to slide his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose because he doesn't want to stare up into a void, he wants to see him. Wants to see what manner of thought is hiding behind the lenses. ]
Only if you stop talking.
[ For the first time since they started this little tango there is actual want behind the words. As long as those doors remain closed, he is choosing to give in and listen to his favor. Instead of dropping romantic words or gestures he looks up at him from the awkward angle, practically daring him to continue. Most people are in the Garden now anyway so if things escalate, there is always another button he can press to keep them closed temporarily while he composes himself.
And if those on the outside of the elevator waiting for it complain? Well, then to hell with them. Tonight? Tonight, he isn't going to think about a single damn one of them. ]
[And what's behind those sunglasses is an inferno. One barely kept at bay, but promising to burn, burn, burn. The slits of his eyes hardly register anymore; their slits, as thin as pencil lead. Greed loosens his hold on Michael's tie only to find it again and as he consciously begins to knot the silk between his knuckles, he tugs on it in an effort to bring his mouth within a breath of his. His smile tight, wound, and peeling like paper, shrinking under heat.]
You - [He manages, even as his voice scrapes like tin against his throat.] - no, I was right when I said it before. You're either dense or stupid. And I think we've gotten to know each other well enough by now that the latter doesn't really cut it. [Air skirts out of his nose, wild and tense. He's high strung, that's what he is. Like gas under pressure and Lord, has he have no mercy left go give.]
[Greed lets out a gaspy, barely there laugh.] I've been wondering, y'know. When you'd ask me. When you'd finally put all that bullshit aside and take what's already yours. [The Sin's tail snaps out again and every, gnarling spine clicks open like a blooming chopping block.]
[Let whoever comes on next see it for what it is: the Sin's left his writing on the wall and now, he's come to collect.]
[He doesn't hesitate when he kisses Michael. His claws sink into his tie, and that's all he needs. Greed swallows his lips, trapping them in his teeth, and the juts of his hips arch into him. Everything about it is slow. Everything about it is furious. He's watched that face walk out on him so many nights, so many days. And every time, he'd let him. Their goodbyes always, always, leaving him wanting just a little bit more.]
[So he doesn't need to see where to place his hands: he already has Michael memorized. And as he slides his fingers across his cheek to tangle them in his hair, he lets his other hands wander. One, he slips into the small of his back while he clamps down on his hip with another; the grip of his fingers like a tight, squeezing vice.]
[He's heard so many songs over the years. About love, about the achiness of it, about the flightiness of it. About the longingness of it and how it can pull people apart, piece by piece, like thread on the seams. And if he were any other creature, he'd know. He'd already know he was screwed from the very start. But he doesn't. All he knows is that static. That screaming, relentless static buzzing and growing in the back of his skull like a hornet's nest.]
[Angels shouldn't love monsters. They'll always make meals out of them.]
[Greed hums to try to send his voice pitching down Michael's throat. When he pulls back, it's only to briefly catch his breath.] Ha - I tried, y'know. Really, I did. [His grin eases open, not so much toothy as defeated.] I figured you'd just stop showing up eventually. Wouldn't have taken it personally if you did. [He eases away his hip to give Michael a chance to breathe himself. Not that he needs it.] But you didn't, did you. You and that fucking righteousness of yours -
[It's fucked him, he fails to mention. If Michael had told him right then and there to stop, he would. If he told him to get lost, he'd do just that. And if he'd asked him to tell him everything? He doubts he'd be able to deny him. The Archangel's already offered his body as a contingency plan. His secrets aren't worth shit anymore.]
[When he feels the elevator bounce into place, the Sin pulls back, releasing Michael's tie with a twirl of his finger.] I already know where your room is. [His nails stay on his hip a bit longer than they should before he slides them away too, causing the edges of them to scratch softly at the fabric of his suit.] But don't get the wrong idea. We aren't done here, Blue Eyes.
[The warning bell chimes, and the former homunculus retreats; his body coiling up into the corner of the elevator as cool and rigid as settling adder. He plucks his sunglasses off his face to hang them at the collar of his shirt and as he crosses his legs, he lets his hand press against the rail behind him.]
Five minutes. [Greed starts, splaying his fingers apart as if to make his point clear. The tips of his claws drum against the rail and as his tail licks the floor, the tip of it twitches impatiently.]
[ Despite the fact that he is one hundred and ten percent right, Michael bristles at both of the accusations, narrowing his eyes a fraction. ]
I’m not supposed to want this, to want you, but I do — and have for some time. [ Having him so close means he can hide nothing from him, not the anticipation causing his mouth to feel drier than a desert or the fact that his breath keeps catching in his throat. He follows those eyes with dogged determination even if they are threatening to set him alight from the inside out. ]
You are so proud of your avarice, of what you take, but you never tried to take me before now. Why? I wouldn’t have denied you. [ A part of him knows, Greed follows his own code and if someone is not willing, he abandons his pursuit without fuss. But how long has he been willing to give himself to this Deadly Sin? When he creeps closer, Michael grabs a fistful of his vest to close the distance. ]
I would never deny you. [ The last utterance before their mouths meet with a bruising intensity he should have expected. Nothing about this is going to be sweet and kind, not when both of them have wanted from afar for so long, and he does not care. Heaven is love and light and while love does play a part in this, that is where it ends. There is nothing Heavenly or virtuous about how this night is going to end. Even if the price is giving up his wings, he would still travel down this treacherous road with him.
His free hand rakes through the hair of the former homunculus, fingers twisting into the strands to give them a sharp tug. They are so close that not even a breath could slip between them but he yearns for more, for nothing to be between them. He never thought he would curse the existence of clothing but here is he, swearing internally at the thought that there is still a barrier between them.
He wants it all and the prospect is new and terrifying. His fingertips are unable to drink in the heart radiating off of his body fast enough, so he lets out a noise of protest into their kiss. God help him, there is no coming back from this, he is well and truly smitten by this monster. Just when he thinks he might suffocate on the tail end of the kiss, Greed is the one who pulls away.
Michael’s head meets the panel with a soft thud as he gulps down air like it may be his last chance to do so. If there was any doubt before it should be gone now, he has no intention of telling him to stop. In fact, when he starts to pull away, he draws the hand that was tangled up in his hair down to his face, letting the nail of his thumb trace out his lower lip. ]
If I recall correctly, weren’t you the one who approached me first? You could’ve turned me away, you still can. [ No, he knows better, once he has hooked those claws into someone he is never letting go. One of his, isn’t that how he always words it? He finds his eyes lingering on his mouth as he maps it out, though they occasionally flick up to stare at the man himself. If he had a heart, it would have beat itself free of his chest about two minutes ago, but he can somehow still hear the distinct throbbing of a pulse in his ears.
But then he pulls away and Michael is left momentarily speechless for a different reason. Did he just wind him up in the elevator on purpose? The look he gives him would be borderline scathing if nearly every muscle of his body wasn’t wound up like a top. With nothing to keep him upright, he sinks against the wall and tips his head back with a groan before the doors open. ]
Has anyone ever told you that you’re an asshole?
[ He always keeps his wings out when he is in Heaven, so they unfurl behind him with little ceremony. Unfortunately, letting them out betrays every emotion he is trying desperately to rein in at the moment, the feathers trembling like leaves dancing against a summer breeze. To further give his annoyance a voice, he flicks one of the wings out and lightly smacks him with it.
Five minutes is not enough time to compose himself. When he chews at his bottom lip and realizes he can still taste him, he turns and shows him his back to at least keep one emotion to himself for the walk back. He could fly to his balcony but he walks every day, he knows it takes less than five minutes for him to reach his floor.
And if he happens to be a few seconds late? Call it his payback for the elevator. When the doors open, Michael slips through the crowd waiting to climb aboard and disappears.
Normally the walk back would be soothing but no amount of chill in the air seems to be able to cool him down. He is as polite as ever during the walk but stops to talk to no one, which means he gets to his door with time to spare rather than tacking on spiteful minutes. Greed is a frequently flyer in his room so he knows he has left the balcony unlocked, he has no idea what he might be walking into.
Without further ado, he unlocks the door and steps inside a room lit up only by a dimly glowing bulb in the corner of the room. ]
[The shadows on his face are dark, even against the elevator's bright light. Greed presses his lips together. He can feel Michael there, still lingering like a lick of sweet, burning bourbon. And all of him is itching. All of him is on fire. But there are some things that are worth the wait.]
[And this? This is one of them.]
It's been said before. [Is his only answer. The tone of his voice, though: there's a possessiveness about it that's cooking. That's simmering, boiling, and trembling as sure as a lidded pot, shaking on the stove. Greed laughs shortly when the wings hit him across the face. He doesn't bother getting out of the way. There'd be no point.]
[And as he watches Michael leave again (watches him let him leave), the Sin's knuckles buckle into the rail, bending it out of shape.]
[It doesn't take him five minutes.]
[By the time the Archangel gets up to his room, the door to the balcony's already been ripped open, leaving a breeze to waft ghostly into the room, and the Sin's sunglasses wait on the coffee table. No, walking in - it's like entering a space that shouldn't have ever been opened in the first place. And as a pair of red pricks fume in the dark, the warning? It should be as clear as day:]
["Buyer beware, something's already here.".]
[Greed slowly slinks out of the corner of the room. His vest is already halfway off his shoulders by the time he makes it to the kitchen and as it hits the floor, he kicks it away with little to no dignity. And maybe, that's his cue. Because a second later, and he's off like a bullet. All of his claws, all of his teeth, all of his want, reaching out to grab Michael's collar as he comes stepping through the door.]
[His keys fall off the counter, but he doesn't hear those either. Instead, all he hears is the pounding in his skull as he tries to slam the man against the only exit left. No, tonight? Tonight Michael isn't going anywhere. He won't let him. Not if he has any fucking say about it.]
[The lock to the door rattles, the sound of it like loosened, bar-fight teeth, and the Sin shoves his body up against Michael's again, smothering him. If the Archangel's frustrated? He's wound like piano wire. The leather of his pants doesn't hide much. He's hard and ready; probably has been since the moment he let the man loose off the elevator. And as Greed nudges his nose under Michael's throat, the air that comes out of him is hot. Heaving.]
[He's being cooked alive, and who else would it be but Heaven's flaming sword, come to strike him down.]
[The former homunculus hooks one of his claws at the bottom of his suit coat, snaring the lowest button.] You already know why. [He hisses. The smile on his face twitches, causing his jaw to clamp loudly shut. Greed tests his teeth on Michael's collar and as he moves his wrist, he slices the button at the bottom of his suit clean off. Another penny, paid to avarice's insatiable demand.] Because I didn't need to fuck you. If having you meant I never got to touch you, to feel you, to hear you - I would have taken it, Blues. [He can feel his stone beating its wretched fists, yelling at him through his bones and causing the veins in the side of his head to stand on end.]
If you denied me, I would have walked away. Does it make sense now? Do you fucking get it? I was never made to -
[Unconsciously, he slips two of his hands around Michael's thighs as he brings up a third to try to knot his fingers in his hair. It's as if he can't get enough of him. As if he can never, ever, get enough of him.] Turning you away. I couldn't do that even if I wanted to. Not anymore. You've got me, Michael. Now, let's see if you've actually got the stomach for it.
[Another jerk of his wrist, and a second button meets the first. Everything is forfeit tonight. Him, at the mercy of a want that's been choked for months. Michael, and all that he is, all that he owns. There's only so much he can hold back, after all. And if a few things need to be replaced by the end of the night? So be it. He's got the money for it.]
[The Sin gets half the jacket open before he plants his hand on Michael's hip to map out the curve of it. To most, the Archangel is unassuming. He's kind and gentle. Soft-spoken and warm. But hidden underneath it all is something harder. Michael is a champion, first and foremost. And that title? It doesn't come without a certain amount of muscle behind it.]
[Greed's knuckles tense, pricking the fabric of his shirt.] Where. [He asks, huskily. While his dick is already pressed up against the zipper of his pants, he takes the time to glide his hand along Michael's stomach, to his chest, like a man searching for a heartbeat he'll never find.] I won't ask you a second time, so make it somewhere it'll count.
[But those hands, they're still wandering. The Sin flicks out two of his nails and as he drags his wrist, he begins to leisurely sink his claws into the fabric of his shirt; each inch, punctuated by the shrill whine of fabric being torn apart.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smashes christening champagne on this inbox
Wh-?
[The warning still doesn't prepare her for the overall presentation of his offering.
Her hunter's gaze tracks the shield's retreat until it disappears beneath the collar of his shirt, her booze-addled brain not quite caught up with what exactly he was suggesting until he's already brought the claw to his throat. Before she can even open her mouth to refuse, that tough hide of his is split, glistening crimson already seeping from the wound.
Greed is not human. He was never human. But beneath the carbon and leather he smells of the things humans are made of, metallic like blood and the salt of sweat and flesh. Like nearly everyone she's met since she was turned, he has a unique scent and a flavor all his own, one she would be embarrassed to admit she was curious to try... So she should be grateful that she's being given the opportunity and not turn it down, right? It's being willingly given. Required, it would seem, considering the seal has already been broken.
The light in her eyes flickers with an inhuman glow, laser-focused on the wound he's created. If she doesn't clean it up now, it will soak into his shirt and that would be a shame, wouldn't it? Losing time to come up with an argument against whatever justification she's trying to make for this, she finally closes the distance between them with an exasperated growl, slipping her arms around his waist to pull his body flush against hers. He's hot and solid and heavy and yet she's got him cradled like he doesn't weigh a thing. This chaotic, feral energy of his shouldn't be so enticing, it shouldn't make her crave everything he's made of, but it does— he does.
The flat of her tongue draws deft along the length of his throat, lapping up the wayward crimson trail towards its origin, her eyelids fluttering closed as she latches on, fighting her urge to bite again, as she had with Fearless barely an hour before. Seras was able to stop herself and keep from taking everything from him, but what if she couldn't do it a second time? Something tells her Greed wouldn't be quite as lenient if she took more than she was offered from someone like him. So instead, she'll settle for suckling instead, carefully drawing his blood from the wound alone.
The flavor itself is different, some odd mixture of notes she couldn't quite place right off the top of her tipsy little head, but the flavor doesn't matter nearly as much as the near-instantaneous buzz she receives from it, like double-fisting espresso shots before your shift. She pulls away quickly, lips parted in surprise and smeared with blood.]
Whoa.
[Her chest heaves with the subconscious need for air, unnecessary as it is, the sudden overwhelming surge of energy firing up her nerves, prickling up and down her spine.]
What... why... why do you... [She sounds like she's run a whole marathon, breathless and panting, looking a little unsteady on her feet again. She reaches out for him.]
Why does... a homunculus... feel like this...?
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[There's no heartbeat for her to have with him, but that. That he can satisfy.]
[Greed's smile is nothing but a crescent moon in the bar's dim; a razor blade with a thousand serrated edges.] Mn. That's a secret - [He speaks, and his breath is catching. Raw. She has him wrapped up in her arms like a lover, but that doesn't mean he can't move. And move, he does. He isn't fast, but subtle. And as he slides along the wall, he blindly feels out the surface with a free hand.]
[A door knob answers him finally - its soft rattle enough of an invitation.] - but before we get to that, I think you can do a bit better. Like this. [Warning, what warning? What's the point when they're already here, in the middle of it all, without a care in the world? Greed throws his head forward, his mouth open, and with both, he delivers all of those sharp affirmations. He sinks his teeth into the dip of her shoulder to anchor him there while his foot kicks out behind him, throwing the door to a supply closet wide open while a few of its bolts wiggle out of the place.]
[Because now, he's going. Moving fast, dragging her with him, like a shadow taking the light. The door snaps shut behind them and he throws his back up against a shelf or two, taking down cans, breaking a beam, and scattering all sorts of clutter that can be saved for tomorrow.]
[Because now. Now is the time she should have her fill.]
[Greed's breath is hot, too hot, as he exhales around the clamp of his jaws. His hands are on her as much as hers are on him; his nails gently wandering over the inches of her back like a man possessed by the number of bones. He growls, and it's as if it's coming not from his throat, but his chest. From somewhere deep below, deep down, and not even Hell itself could go so far.]
[The former homunculus lashes his tail, tossing a stack of papers off a crate to make them scatter like dollars. He releases his mouth and kisses his signature.] Sit. [He hisses as he tries to spin them around, only to knock a few more odds and ends into a pile that is steadily growing under them.] Sit and show me everything you are, Seras Victoria.
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No amount of warning could have prepared her for what comes next. How could she have possibly guessed that he would bite back?
There's barely time to mutter a "huh" before she's paralyzed, a rabbit clamped in the jaws of a wolf. Her limbs fall heavy as lead at her sides, every choice that led up to this moment flashing before her mind's eye in a desperate search for where she went wrong. Before she knows it, she's being jostled about in a closet, making a mess of things as her wings flap and tail thrashes about across the shelves, wiping them bare.]
G-Greed— [The bat gasps, trembling hands grasping uselessly for something to grab onto, that bastard's penchant for shrink-wrapping himself in his clothing making it nearly impossible for her to find purchase anywhere to try and tug him off. ...Not that she could even if she wanted to, not without him taking a chunk out of her.
But now, It's happening again. That ache deep in her core, begging desperately for something she can't explain, a sensation so foreign and powerful she can't decide whether to chase it or run far, far from it.
Fearless had triggered it briefly earlier in the night when he'd allowed her to feed, the rush leaving her hungry for more than just his blood, but uncertain what else she could possibly need. The search for that answer may have continued with him if she hadn't knocked the poor guy out, but it seems Greed may have to be the one to pick up his slack.
Is it a fight? Does the predator in her want this to be a kill more than a meal? That can't be. She knows when she wants someone dead. Then why does she want to throw her body at him, clamp down and never let go? What the hell could that possibly mean?
He releases her and she loses her balance for a moment, catching herself against the already-disheveled shelves before she steadies herself again. Burning red eyes leer curiously up at her feral friend through a curtain of blonde and burgundy, a low rumbling emanating from her chest, accompanying that of the former homunculus as he makes his demands of her. This feeling is more familiar than the one twisting at her guts; a powerful, nigh-immortal being challenging her to prove her worth and to show him exactly why she was chosen.]
This is an odd place for a fight, isn't it? [The vampire lilts, soft like velvet, suggesting wordlessly that perhaps he may not like it if he rubs her the wrong way.
She does not sit. Seras stands firm before him, meeting Avarice eye to eye. The crook of her neck throbs in sync with the pulsing in her core, that feeling making itself known once again.]
If that's what you wanted, you should've just asked.
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[And still, the bottle spews, emptying itself slowly to tick away the seconds.]
[Greed drops away from her and his arms go out to his sides and over his head. But instead of a lash or a punch, what follows is another one of his laughs. Another one of those bold, boasting laughs that makes his head snap back and the bones his neck crick and crack.] Aha AHAHAHAHA! Oh, no. No, no - [He catches himself when he realizes she's serious (dead serious), and his head flops forward. The light in the closet (with its flutters, flicks, and occasional buzz) do nothing to help his case. For every shudder it gives, his eyes answer: purple, red, purple, red.]
[The former homunculus waves his wrist as he takes a lazy step forward.] I'm not interested in fighting you, sweetheart. Is that what you thought this was? [He blinks at her, confused yet still so focused. Then, a thought snaps into place.] Wait. What did you think I was doing?
[The toes of his boots pat in the pool of wine spreading on the floor and ah, ah. He's getting close again, but it's different. Different like he's inspecting her, like he's checking for something he could never, truly see. Greed's eyes narrow and his mouth squeezes together into a small pucker. With his face in close, he raises a single eyebrow.] Did you - have you ever - ?
[Has she ever what. But he just assumed, didn't he? Because stories were just that: stories. Sometimes, they had a lick of truth to them, and other times, they were fantastic tales. Humans, after all, had a talent for imagination. So, as he bows over his hips to really, really, look at her, he has to ask:]
Fucked. Have you ever been fucked before? [Blunt, thy name is avarice. The Sin's tail flicks out behind him and in that moment, he's almost like a cat. Like a cat checking something to confirm whether it's alive or dead.] I thought being a vampire and all, you'd -
[Greed puts a hand to his face, smothering it with his claws. He can't hide his smile, though. And how genuine it is. Just his luck, isn't it? He thought he was being clear about it all. And Seras, she had sobered up after having a taste, didn't she?]
[Oh, how wrong, wrong, wrong he'd been. Never mind being on the right page, they weren't (aren't) even speaking the same language.]
[The former homunculus spreads his legs, making his boots line up with either side of hers.] Ah, shit. I'm sorry about that, lovely. Must have gotten the whole thing wrong. [He drops his hand, freeing that all-too-snide expression.] I figured that's kind of what vampires do. Guess the stories are just that, huh? [He shoves his elbow out to rest it behind her and one of the shelves finally gives way; the bulk of it crashing and splintering out onto the floor.]
Thought you and Fearless - [He sends a look to the ceiling, to the lightbulb, to another mess he'll have to clean up later.] - ah, well.
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Her attention flicks from his eyes to his mouth as he questions her, that heart shaped nose of hers scrunching indignantly at the bridge with his (accurate) accusations. She doesn't want to answer him, to give him another reason to laugh at how fucking oblivious she is, but he's right. Despite her appearance and given abilities, Seras is a virgin, and at this juncture she isn't really sure how he wouldn't have noticed. She's gangly and awkward- especially in this hell-altered body- and can't flirt to save her life, much less clock when someone else is actively flirting with her.... But now she has to wonder: have Fearless and Greed been genuinely flirting with her this whole time? They're not just general flirt-with-everybody flirts, casting their flirt-nets into the dating pool to see what ass they can dredge up? It hadn't occurred to her that this could, in fact, be personal.
Both can probably be true, but Seras is unfortunately a little slow on the uptake...]
I-- I'm still new to the whole vampire thing, okay... I-I only died a few months ago. ...Or, un-died. Wh-whatever! [She huffs, brows furrowing with her petulant pout.]
I- I just haven't had the chance! That's all.
[But hey, at least now she gets it. It may behoove the former homunculus to always be so blunt with her, because she can't miss the point if he's literally in her face about it.]
B-but, ah. No! No, Fearless and I-- I mean. We maybe... Could have? But. He. Fell asleep.
[Booze-blasted as Fearless was, he still gave her enough to work with that she could, quite possibly, pick up where she left off but with a new partner instead. This one doesn't even need sleep, can heal his own wounds and now that she knows exactly what he was trying to do by dragging her in here, is probably pretty unlikely to pass the fuck out before things get good.]
I-it's not. Important.
[Damn, he loves to be close to her, doesn't he? Over the past few weeks, she's noticed that he's always up in somebody's business, like he just never understood personal space, but never really applied that same perspective to herself. How much longer would she have gone without noticing if she'd never taken his offer?
It doesn't really matter though, her eyes are open now. ...and they seem to be struggling to focus on anything but his features. She's watching his mouth again, that blood-smeared pit of razorblades somehow as tempting as it is terrifying.
Thinking about it... She should. Help him clean that up. Right? He's a mess. It's only polite. Plus, she doesn't want to further the Fearless conversation, she already knows he's going to laugh his ass off about it, and if she cuts him off at the pass, maybe she can avoid the secondhand embarrassment...
Resolute, she swallows her nerves and dives in, intent on wiping that smug look off his face. Both hands reach up to cradle that strong, jutting jaw of his in her palms, pulling him forward to press her lips roughly against his, hopefully making her decision- her desire -known.]
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➥ Closed to @ Lucifer welcome to the shit show
[No one, that's who.]
[So, he leaves a note taped to the back of the bar ("Taking the night off. If something happens, call or do that text thing. Whatever. Otherwise, I think the lot of you can handle it.") and spends the rest of his hours cleaning up his space. Most of the stuff he's collected has, thankfully, been moved over to the basement of the Devil's Nest. Course, there's still .. some shit everywhere: a few street signs nailed to the wall, unused scratch tickets on the kitchen counter, various packs of smokes tucked away into corners like the worst game of I-Spy. And never mind the sheer volume of knickknacks and cash rolls he's got. Those? Those are everywhere.]
[But it is neater and easy to move around in, so. Don't judge a man, huh?]
[The Sin leans back on a sofa, his one hand cradling a glass of iced scotch. He's not sure what to expect. He knows the Devil is going to show him something? With his phone? But other than that?]
[Well, time would tell, wouldn't it?]
[Greed takes a healthy sip and tilts the glass, admiring how the pink neon strokes at the ice. Hell doesn't have a sun, so this is as close to a sunset as he typically gets. A little sliver of it, forever trapped in his drink.]
my favorite television program, the shit show
but that's not going to happen. lucifer has no engagements for the night other than this either: the only thing he'd bail for at this point is charlie needing him, but he's pretty sure that isn't going to happen. he's trying not to think about how he hasn't seen her much lately, because he'll get lost in it and he can do that on his own time. when he doesn't have plans.
and he's not going to mind the clutter. he'll think it's charming, likely: the rolls of money will ping familiar to a certain someone, but he who will not be fucking named because it will ruin the night wouldn't have any of the other things. knicknacks, that is. lucifer, on the other hand, with his workshop full of rubber ducks, is the perfect person to appreciate the sentiment.
he's directly on time, literally poofing into existence at the door from across the hotel. he can't portal anywhere important or between realms, but he can do some tricksy magic still, and it's quicker than taking the elevator. he is a little nervous, but he's dealing with it. he's not going to chicken out.
he fidgets, briefly, in front of the door.
then he knocks.
when greed opens the door, lucifer is in a carefully chosen statement piece, though he does currently have an open suit jacket over the top that partially hides how tightly it's cinched at the waist. it's also white, with gold trim and a couple of gold chains keeping it in place like his normal outfit (with some almost criminally tight pants to boot), but it's obviously not the main event. no gloves today, his dark, almost chitinous hands and claws on display, and he tips his head back (and back, and back) to grin up at the homunculus when he appears. ]
Hey! So, we were gonna set your speed dial contacts?
[ oh-so-innocently. yeah, that. sure. he wonders, briefly, how quickly he can push enough buttons to make him snap. a fun experiment for both of them! everyone wins. ]
good good tv 10/10
[For once, the tables have been fucking turned.]
[The Sin curls up into the doorframe, trying to shove that temperature of his down low, low, low. With his ankles laced together, he eases his hip against the inside door; his demeanor as lax as always.] Right. [He numbly finds the word, but it doesn't quite register. The thing about avarice? It always knows what it wants. It knows what it wants, when it wants, who it wants. As such, his eyes wander and fishtail behind his sunglasses along each and every inch he can take in: the gold trim, the chains, the hint of a tight-pulled waist, Lucifer's exposed throat. He doesn't even notice as the tips of his nails bite into his glass, nor does he hear it when they leave behind the smallest of pricks. Oh, no. He's too caught up in the spectacle of it all. And once again, the rattle at the end of his tail betrays his every want. It's trill lazy, but no less charmed:]
[Chh. Chh. Chhhh.]
[He takes a pull from the glass, letting the burn of scotch shock him back to the present.] Yeah, you were gunna show me how to set that up. Though, looks like I may have pulled you from something. Special occasion? [Greed turns, pinning the door open with his foot as he waltzes on in.] Hope you didn't cut it short just because of this little thing.
[Once inside, he forgets his drink on the kitchen counter.] Don't tend to come up here very often, so sorry I don't have as much as I do back at the 'Nest. [The former homunculus feels out his sides, his hips, if only to do something with his hands.]
Not a drinker, I know. Got a case of the ginger stuff. Want one? [The Sin crouches down to rip open the door of a mini fridge. And for once, he's thankfully for its chill.]
perfect for bingewatching
he does huff a laugh though and shake his head, moving to lean against the counter with his elbows resting on it so he can watch greed fuss around for the drink. ]
I just like looking nice, Greed. And what better time for it than a social call? And sure, I'd appreciate one. Thanks!
[ the rattle of greed's tail sends the tiniest shiver through him, though it's not visible when it does. he glances down toward it though, not glancing back up until he has to turn back toward greed to face him properly instead of at an angle. lucifer knows his own good side: the cant of his hips is subtle, but enough to make sure that one side of the jacket slips juuuust a tiny bit to expose more of his waist. just in case the tease wasn't enough, of course. ]
I don't normally socialize either, and you've already gotten it out of me on multiple occasions.
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[The Sin stands, turns, and catches the bottom of the kitchen counter with his toe. A momentary flicker (a beat really) of something flashes across his face. Concern? Intrigue? Embarrassment? Whatever it is, he quickly shrugs it off with that same old signature grin of his.]
Don't get me wrong. I socialize all the time. [He shakes his head and slides the tops of the bottles underneath the fake-granite countertop.] Just the people I visit tend to be a little demanding. [He pauses to slam his fist down, prying both bottle caps loose with a pop of fizz.]
Not that I care. I've told them to. Ah - [He collects the caps before setting down one of the bottles near Lucifer.] - but that's a shame. You gunna start working on that? Seeing some people? You should, y'know. Kind of a waste just sittin' around here all by yourself, hmn? [He waggles his finger. Because he can.] Remember, there's a whole world out there. Don't make me give you the same talk again, Luce.
[Greed takes a very long, very healthy sip from the bottle. It's not booze, but it gives a different sort of burn that's a welcome one right now. How it touches his throat and teases at the back of his nose, setting him right back into the now of things.]
[He tilts his head, showing off his own throat, and finishes about half before coming up for air again.] About this Speed Dial thing. What do you want for it? Came all this way, think I owe you something for the trouble. [And he doesn't think the Devil takes cash on a regular basis. But that's an assumption.]
[The former homunculus snatches his scotch and sidesteps in front of Lucifer. Though, not without trying to give him a slight graze of his elbow. Two could play that game.] I'd say whatever you want, but I think you've got most of that covered, huh?
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➥ Closed to @ Blitzø
[Greed's already waiting outside the non-descript door, cigarette partly finished, and a grin on his face. In the club's limelight of blue, he takes on a ghostly kind of appearance - like a black cat waiting and bringing nothing, no nothing, but bad, bad luck.]
[However, that's not the case tonight, is it? No. Tonight, maybe, they'll finally clear the air, get some shit settled, and leave a bit more satisfied than when they arrived. Blitzø's always been a wild one. It was only a matter of time before it came to this.]
[The Sin licks one of his teeth as he drags his heel off the pipes of his motorcycle, making the steel of it screech violence along the chrome. And as a few sparks pepper the sidewalk, he gently pinches the cigarette between his claws.]
[This is an evening for the simpler things, of the less complicated, and oh, oh, oh, is he ready for it.]
lets goooo
It felt like the best way to work things out too. Not that he had an issue with Greed, but the sin sure did seem to want to prove that he wasn't anything like Mammon and what better way than a little getting down and dirty with an imp?
...actually that probably didn't prove dick since Blitzø was pretty sure Mammon would fuck an imp if he could make a quick buck out of it, but he was horny and Greed was hot as fuck so he'd take it. It's a better distraction than half the other shit he'd been worrying about lately. With Stolas and Verosika gone, he was starting to worry a little about certain others and at least this was a chance to put all of that down for a while.
All he was going to do tonight was have a good fucking time and see which of them left with more bite marks and bruises the next day.
Spotting Greed waiting near the door, Blitzø grins and slides right on up into his space, tail curling around Greed's leg as he practically purrs up at the much taller man.]
Gimme a fucking hit of that smoke.
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Mn. Demanding, aren't you? [Greed clips the cigarette between two of his fingers and reaches to Blitzø's face, bringing the smoke to his mouth with a soft, chiding purr.] Good. It's what I like about you, Blitzø. Keep up that ambition of yours, and we'll see what it gets ya by the end of the night.
[But where would the fun be if he just laid back and took it? No, there's no thrill in that at all. And he wants a thrill; one that'll distract him, let him lose himself for a while. So, as Sin's tail chitters, a rattlesnake's admission of pleased, he spreads his fingers along the man's face.] I'll admit, you've always been an interesting guy. You don't take shit from anyone. Not the ones runnin' this place, not the people from that other Hell of yours. Ha - ! [He barks, his laugh subtle and smoggy with traces of tobacco.] Know just what you want, all of 'em be damned.
[When he pulls his hand away, he makes a point of tracing out Blitzø's jaw with his claw; the curved of it tucked in, a tease of his sharpness.] Finish it off. Then, let's get you what you came here for. Sound fair enough to you, handsome?
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He's pretty damn sure Greed won't mind in the slightest though, and he grins lazily as the sin leans in to bring the cigarette closer.]
I'm hoping it gets us both well and truly fucked. [His tongue, surprisingly dextrous as all imps' are, flicks tantalisingly against Greed's fingers before he takes a drag from the smoke, letting it curl past his teeth as he exhales.] Fuck that's good shit.
[As is the tease of fingers against his face and jaw, the spines on his upper back flaring as it sends a curl of pleasure through him.] But that's what you fucking like, isn't it? Fuckers who know exactly what they like and what they want, especially if they want it bad, huh?
[He grins and, just as Greed's fingers start to slip away, turns his head fast enough to nip at the pads with sharp teeth.]
And I always know what I fucking want when it comes to this. [He takes one last drag before tossing the cigarette and dragging Greed down and into a hard kiss.]
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[So, when Blitzø's tongue skates across his fingers, the Sin sucks briskly at the corner of his mouth; a little pop of noise and oh, is it all ego.] Of course it is. I demand the finest, after all. Wouldn't really be right to call myself greed if I didn't deliver, hmn?
[Red like fire, red like churned coals, rakes behind his sunglasses. It's a tease, really. A bit of his making, bleeding through the lenses. Greed huffs from his nose.] You've got it. Want, desire - there's no point in denying it, but some of the people here are a real pain in the ass about it. What's the point? No. [He opens his mouth to click his teeth together twice. Clk, clk.] Everything you need, everything you want. Show me what you got, friend. And I'll be sure to do you the favor.
[The bite to his fingers makes him hiss, but not in a way that's angry. Instead, there's something very much pleased about it; like a snake, charmed by the challenge.] Good. I wouldn't have it any other way. [Which is why he doesn't even bother fighting when Blitzø drags him into a kiss. The hardness, the roughness of it all: he returns it point for point. His snapping teeth and rattling tongue threatening static in his mouth.]
[Greed tries to walk them backward and with a blind kick to the front door, he slaps it open, making it bang on its hinges. If anyone happens to be in the way, well. That's their problem, isn't it? Because he'll lead them back, if he can. Back to the front counter, unbothered by whatever obstacle may be in his direct path.]
in ur office getting frisky
Of course, it devolves fairly quickly into the two of them having a nightcap or three which inevitably ends up with an aggressive make-out session in the hall. But Nanami has other ideas, and he's finally feeling up to trying one out.
It's not really a feat for either Seras or Nanami to be able to carry the other, but that doesn't mean the accountant doesn't enjoy doing it all the same. And tonight it gives him the ability to take Seras somewhere special: Greed's office.
The mess has long since stopped bothering him, there's only so much you can do against the hoarding tendencies of avarice incarnate, and so long as there isn't rotting food or unaccounted for valuables he leaves it alone. But being that comfortable with it also means he doesn't mind clearing the desk with one hand so he can set Seras down there and really get to work.]
I suggest you remove anything you don't want me to tear off of you, darling.
[Yeah, he's in some kind of mood tonight.]
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Nanami did say they weren't going to do it in his office anymore, but somehow Greed's office was on the table? And yet nowhere near the realm of possibilities for where she thought they'd end up tonight; she would have put money on the less-than-secret bathroom before this brazen display--]
What're we-- [No sooner had she processed the location of their lurid rendezvous than she finds herself on her boss's desk, receiving a warning and what she's going to assume is a countdown before another outfit meets an untimely (but necessary) end. Her initial reaction is to obey; first goes a few accessories, dropped right next to the desk (surely she'll have the presence of mind to grab them and they won't get lost in the sea of expensive shit) but looking down to consider the dress she's opted for tonight, she must weigh the options of finding another like it or simply undressing herself... which, one is more ridiculous than the other but the other is so inconvenient...]
I did just get this dress, so--
She pauses, head swimming, gripping the hem of her skirt before she turns an accusatory pout his way.]
Wait, hold on-- First, you carry me in here like a brute-- [With a rolled "r" for dramatic effect and seemingly unable to hold that pout for long. She's all giggles and fangs after a moment.] And now you're making me undress myself? Chivalry has gone out the window-- [She can't even keep a straight face... Those last few shots really hit, didn't they.]
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[As much as he wants to brute force his way to what he wants, he has to pause when she calls him out. He reaches up to pull his tie off, giving himself a moment to think. This is probably just brat-ery and he should 'punish' her, but there's still a grain of truth there. This is his beautiful lady and he should be treating her well. So he decides to split the difference.]
I will be sure to make it up to you on my knees shortly. But first, be a good girl and turn around for me.
[A quick look around the piles of riches around him finds him exactly what he hopes for, a knife with a jeweled handle and a decently sharp blade. He can still get the naughty thrill of ruining her clothes, but this way she can get them fixed and wear them again.]
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A quick glance over her shoulder turns into a wide-eyed stare when she realizes what he's holding.]
A-ah... You know I was just messin' with you, right? [Aheh?]
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I suppose I'll just have to find a different way to ruin you tonight, my little devil.
[Her ass gets a little smack while she's wiggling it and he wraps his hand around her tail and strokes it from base to tip just to get a reaction out of her.]
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➥ Closed to @ Michael valentine's gay
[He makes an effort to slam the Archangel against the number pad as he blindly presses the key for upstairs. Whether it rings or not, he doesn't know. The pounding in his ears is too loud. The drum in his skull is screaming.]
["I want it to be you," he'd said, and his core had answered back:]
["You have no fucking idea."]
[Greed shoves his hips forward, trying to pin Michael down; a flight risk, instantly grounded. He feels his claws dig into the elevator's steel frame and as the metal of it groans, as ribbons of it curl under his nails in tight-spun wheels, the former homunculus catches his breath as he inhales close to Michael's throat.] Do me a favor, a real one this time.
[The edges of his teeth press against his gums as they try to stretch and twist into tusks. The Sin swallows to urge them down.] And don't fucking think.
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After the doors close everything happens so quickly that his mind immediately shifts into battle mode, with both of his arms reaching out to grasp at a pair of the arms belonging to the former homunculus. Even his eyes glow for a moment before he is able to mentally talk himself back down, so he doesn't retaliate. This is not a battle, at least not at the present time. Better yet, this is one battle he doesn't mind losing. ]
.. Greed!
[ It sounds like a reprimand at first because it is, he was expecting a leisurely stroll not to be manhandled so suddenly. His back hits the panel with a dull thud mere moments after he puts his wings away, but he still lets out a hiss at the contact. The dull ache comes with one bonus, it reminds him that they are both present in the moment and the effects of the chocolate have waned.
Fuck the tie, the tie is the last thing on his mind right now. Pulling on it draws their faces closer together and, upon feeling the exhale against his neck, he tilts his head back to expose more of it. Every natural instinct is telling him how dangerous this is, to turn back now and avoid a possible injury, but he wants this — he wants him — in all of his unholy glory.
The unfamiliar pressure when their hips meet has him gritting his teeth but not pulling away, letting out a half-groan. The hands against his arms pull away to allow him to grab the ends of his vest and slowly urge him even closer. When that's done, he reaches up to slide his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose because he doesn't want to stare up into a void, he wants to see him. Wants to see what manner of thought is hiding behind the lenses. ]
Only if you stop talking.
[ For the first time since they started this little tango there is actual want behind the words. As long as those doors remain closed, he is choosing to give in and listen to his favor. Instead of dropping romantic words or gestures he looks up at him from the awkward angle, practically daring him to continue. Most people are in the Garden now anyway so if things escalate, there is always another button he can press to keep them closed temporarily while he composes himself.
And if those on the outside of the elevator waiting for it complain? Well, then to hell with them. Tonight? Tonight, he isn't going to think about a single damn one of them. ]
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You - [He manages, even as his voice scrapes like tin against his throat.] - no, I was right when I said it before. You're either dense or stupid. And I think we've gotten to know each other well enough by now that the latter doesn't really cut it. [Air skirts out of his nose, wild and tense. He's high strung, that's what he is. Like gas under pressure and Lord, has he have no mercy left go give.]
[Greed lets out a gaspy, barely there laugh.] I've been wondering, y'know. When you'd ask me. When you'd finally put all that bullshit aside and take what's already yours. [The Sin's tail snaps out again and every, gnarling spine clicks open like a blooming chopping block.]
[Let whoever comes on next see it for what it is: the Sin's left his writing on the wall and now, he's come to collect.]
[He doesn't hesitate when he kisses Michael. His claws sink into his tie, and that's all he needs. Greed swallows his lips, trapping them in his teeth, and the juts of his hips arch into him. Everything about it is slow. Everything about it is furious. He's watched that face walk out on him so many nights, so many days. And every time, he'd let him. Their goodbyes always, always, leaving him wanting just a little bit more.]
[So he doesn't need to see where to place his hands: he already has Michael memorized. And as he slides his fingers across his cheek to tangle them in his hair, he lets his other hands wander. One, he slips into the small of his back while he clamps down on his hip with another; the grip of his fingers like a tight, squeezing vice.]
[He's heard so many songs over the years. About love, about the achiness of it, about the flightiness of it. About the longingness of it and how it can pull people apart, piece by piece, like thread on the seams. And if he were any other creature, he'd know. He'd already know he was screwed from the very start. But he doesn't. All he knows is that static. That screaming, relentless static buzzing and growing in the back of his skull like a hornet's nest.]
[Angels shouldn't love monsters. They'll always make meals out of them.]
[Greed hums to try to send his voice pitching down Michael's throat. When he pulls back, it's only to briefly catch his breath.] Ha - I tried, y'know. Really, I did. [His grin eases open, not so much toothy as defeated.] I figured you'd just stop showing up eventually. Wouldn't have taken it personally if you did. [He eases away his hip to give Michael a chance to breathe himself. Not that he needs it.] But you didn't, did you. You and that fucking righteousness of yours -
[It's fucked him, he fails to mention. If Michael had told him right then and there to stop, he would. If he told him to get lost, he'd do just that. And if he'd asked him to tell him everything? He doubts he'd be able to deny him. The Archangel's already offered his body as a contingency plan. His secrets aren't worth shit anymore.]
[When he feels the elevator bounce into place, the Sin pulls back, releasing Michael's tie with a twirl of his finger.] I already know where your room is. [His nails stay on his hip a bit longer than they should before he slides them away too, causing the edges of them to scratch softly at the fabric of his suit.] But don't get the wrong idea. We aren't done here, Blue Eyes.
[The warning bell chimes, and the former homunculus retreats; his body coiling up into the corner of the elevator as cool and rigid as settling adder. He plucks his sunglasses off his face to hang them at the collar of his shirt and as he crosses his legs, he lets his hand press against the rail behind him.]
Five minutes. [Greed starts, splaying his fingers apart as if to make his point clear. The tips of his claws drum against the rail and as his tail licks the floor, the tip of it twitches impatiently.]
That should give you enough time.
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I’m not supposed to want this, to want you, but I do — and have for some time. [ Having him so close means he can hide nothing from him, not the anticipation causing his mouth to feel drier than a desert or the fact that his breath keeps catching in his throat. He follows those eyes with dogged determination even if they are threatening to set him alight from the inside out. ]
You are so proud of your avarice, of what you take, but you never tried to take me before now. Why? I wouldn’t have denied you. [ A part of him knows, Greed follows his own code and if someone is not willing, he abandons his pursuit without fuss. But how long has he been willing to give himself to this Deadly Sin? When he creeps closer, Michael grabs a fistful of his vest to close the distance. ]
I would never deny you. [ The last utterance before their mouths meet with a bruising intensity he should have expected. Nothing about this is going to be sweet and kind, not when both of them have wanted from afar for so long, and he does not care. Heaven is love and light and while love does play a part in this, that is where it ends. There is nothing Heavenly or virtuous about how this night is going to end. Even if the price is giving up his wings, he would still travel down this treacherous road with him.
His free hand rakes through the hair of the former homunculus, fingers twisting into the strands to give them a sharp tug. They are so close that not even a breath could slip between them but he yearns for more, for nothing to be between them. He never thought he would curse the existence of clothing but here is he, swearing internally at the thought that there is still a barrier between them.
He wants it all and the prospect is new and terrifying. His fingertips are unable to drink in the heart radiating off of his body fast enough, so he lets out a noise of protest into their kiss. God help him, there is no coming back from this, he is well and truly smitten by this monster. Just when he thinks he might suffocate on the tail end of the kiss, Greed is the one who pulls away.
Michael’s head meets the panel with a soft thud as he gulps down air like it may be his last chance to do so. If there was any doubt before it should be gone now, he has no intention of telling him to stop. In fact, when he starts to pull away, he draws the hand that was tangled up in his hair down to his face, letting the nail of his thumb trace out his lower lip. ]
If I recall correctly, weren’t you the one who approached me first? You could’ve turned me away, you still can. [ No, he knows better, once he has hooked those claws into someone he is never letting go. One of his, isn’t that how he always words it? He finds his eyes lingering on his mouth as he maps it out, though they occasionally flick up to stare at the man himself. If he had a heart, it would have beat itself free of his chest about two minutes ago, but he can somehow still hear the distinct throbbing of a pulse in his ears.
But then he pulls away and Michael is left momentarily speechless for a different reason. Did he just wind him up in the elevator on purpose? The look he gives him would be borderline scathing if nearly every muscle of his body wasn’t wound up like a top. With nothing to keep him upright, he sinks against the wall and tips his head back with a groan before the doors open. ]
Has anyone ever told you that you’re an asshole?
[ He always keeps his wings out when he is in Heaven, so they unfurl behind him with little ceremony. Unfortunately, letting them out betrays every emotion he is trying desperately to rein in at the moment, the feathers trembling like leaves dancing against a summer breeze. To further give his annoyance a voice, he flicks one of the wings out and lightly smacks him with it.
Five minutes is not enough time to compose himself. When he chews at his bottom lip and realizes he can still taste him, he turns and shows him his back to at least keep one emotion to himself for the walk back. He could fly to his balcony but he walks every day, he knows it takes less than five minutes for him to reach his floor.
And if he happens to be a few seconds late? Call it his payback for the elevator. When the doors open, Michael slips through the crowd waiting to climb aboard and disappears.
Normally the walk back would be soothing but no amount of chill in the air seems to be able to cool him down. He is as polite as ever during the walk but stops to talk to no one, which means he gets to his door with time to spare rather than tacking on spiteful minutes. Greed is a frequently flyer in his room so he knows he has left the balcony unlocked, he has no idea what he might be walking into.
Without further ado, he unlocks the door and steps inside a room lit up only by a dimly glowing bulb in the corner of the room. ]
WHEEZE SOMEHOW I HIT POST when I wasn't done
[And this? This is one of them.]
It's been said before. [Is his only answer. The tone of his voice, though: there's a possessiveness about it that's cooking. That's simmering, boiling, and trembling as sure as a lidded pot, shaking on the stove. Greed laughs shortly when the wings hit him across the face. He doesn't bother getting out of the way. There'd be no point.]
[And as he watches Michael leave again (watches him let him leave), the Sin's knuckles buckle into the rail, bending it out of shape.]
[It doesn't take him five minutes.]
[By the time the Archangel gets up to his room, the door to the balcony's already been ripped open, leaving a breeze to waft ghostly into the room, and the Sin's sunglasses wait on the coffee table. No, walking in - it's like entering a space that shouldn't have ever been opened in the first place. And as a pair of red pricks fume in the dark, the warning? It should be as clear as day:]
["Buyer beware, something's already here.".]
[Greed slowly slinks out of the corner of the room. His vest is already halfway off his shoulders by the time he makes it to the kitchen and as it hits the floor, he kicks it away with little to no dignity. And maybe, that's his cue. Because a second later, and he's off like a bullet. All of his claws, all of his teeth, all of his want, reaching out to grab Michael's collar as he comes stepping through the door.]
[His keys fall off the counter, but he doesn't hear those either. Instead, all he hears is the pounding in his skull as he tries to slam the man against the only exit left. No, tonight? Tonight Michael isn't going anywhere. He won't let him. Not if he has any fucking say about it.]
[The lock to the door rattles, the sound of it like loosened, bar-fight teeth, and the Sin shoves his body up against Michael's again, smothering him. If the Archangel's frustrated? He's wound like piano wire. The leather of his pants doesn't hide much. He's hard and ready; probably has been since the moment he let the man loose off the elevator. And as Greed nudges his nose under Michael's throat, the air that comes out of him is hot. Heaving.]
[He's being cooked alive, and who else would it be but Heaven's flaming sword, come to strike him down.]
[The former homunculus hooks one of his claws at the bottom of his suit coat, snaring the lowest button.] You already know why. [He hisses. The smile on his face twitches, causing his jaw to clamp loudly shut. Greed tests his teeth on Michael's collar and as he moves his wrist, he slices the button at the bottom of his suit clean off. Another penny, paid to avarice's insatiable demand.] Because I didn't need to fuck you. If having you meant I never got to touch you, to feel you, to hear you - I would have taken it, Blues. [He can feel his stone beating its wretched fists, yelling at him through his bones and causing the veins in the side of his head to stand on end.]
If you denied me, I would have walked away. Does it make sense now? Do you fucking get it? I was never made to -
[Unconsciously, he slips two of his hands around Michael's thighs as he brings up a third to try to knot his fingers in his hair. It's as if he can't get enough of him. As if he can never, ever, get enough of him.] Turning you away. I couldn't do that even if I wanted to. Not anymore. You've got me, Michael. Now, let's see if you've actually got the stomach for it.
[Another jerk of his wrist, and a second button meets the first. Everything is forfeit tonight. Him, at the mercy of a want that's been choked for months. Michael, and all that he is, all that he owns. There's only so much he can hold back, after all. And if a few things need to be replaced by the end of the night? So be it. He's got the money for it.]
[The Sin gets half the jacket open before he plants his hand on Michael's hip to map out the curve of it. To most, the Archangel is unassuming. He's kind and gentle. Soft-spoken and warm. But hidden underneath it all is something harder. Michael is a champion, first and foremost. And that title? It doesn't come without a certain amount of muscle behind it.]
[Greed's knuckles tense, pricking the fabric of his shirt.] Where. [He asks, huskily. While his dick is already pressed up against the zipper of his pants, he takes the time to glide his hand along Michael's stomach, to his chest, like a man searching for a heartbeat he'll never find.] I won't ask you a second time, so make it somewhere it'll count.
[But those hands, they're still wandering. The Sin flicks out two of his nails and as he drags his wrist, he begins to leisurely sink his claws into the fabric of his shirt; each inch, punctuated by the shrill whine of fabric being torn apart.]
I SAW NO ERROR HERE what are you talking about
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i had to be productive.. on my hiatus (i’m not here)
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