[It's one of the few times he actually listens. Sure, he acknowledges their grievances, their strict no(s), their wants and needs. But in this moment, in this precise second where heart beats thud and a drum pushes at the skin, demanding attention - the Sin's movements are both elongated and coy. The touch of Mello's lip at his temple is a breath; his tug at his vest, a demand. And really, he's always had a knack for it, hasn't he? Pushing himself forward, toeing the line, chancing his luck. Until finally, finally, salvation's opposite comes to collect its dues.]
[Ah, but what is they say about the devil?]
["How merciful he can be."]
[Behind the sway of Mello's back, Greed's nails suddenly skate together. They brush against each other with a sharpening trill; the sound, similar to that of a butcher's block, plucking out its best. The former homunculus shrinks his head a bit lower and as the other's fingers play at he dip of his skull, a longing hum fights behind his teeth. The world's desires, all but hissing like prisoners beating against an overcrowded cell.] Oh - ? Is that what you think? Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. But this - [He hushes and one of his claws barely skips down Mello's spine.] - sorry, but that's all you, sweetheart. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I told you before: in the end, it is your choice. You just have to tell me exactly what you want, hmn?
[Though, he already knows his answer. Need. If anyone is an expert, he's certainly it. And as M's chuckle teases his ear, the Sin slyly pivots his heel. He forces his boot up and in; its dramatic tip, nudging aside Mello's legs as a wordless inquiry:]
["If you let me - oh, babe. I'll show you exactly what it's like."]
[A rush of soot shakes from his horns and the former homunculus plants a trail of kisses down M's exposed throat. He does it with a purpose - the bottom of his ear, first. Right outside his pulse, second. The action is continuous. Slow. The love of a sewer drain, sighing out its smoke, tasting the air, and feeling the life up above for the short, quick time that it has. No, even with all the centuries he's had, these are the moments he savors. And if he's taking too long, if he's dragging it out - ]
[Greed's mouth wrenches open; his exhale, humid and dank. One of his hands keys up Mello's side and as the tips of his fingers come upon his scar, a blatant pause steals his touch. All of his have their stories. Be it something they did, something out of their control, a mix of both, or just simply, an unfortunate case of wrong place, wrong time. Whatever the reason, the scale is vast. A human spectrum of the worst kind, bringing them here, here, here.]
[And what finds them but none other than avarice, avarice incarnate.]
[It's one of the reasons he hesitates. The former homunculus hovers his thumb above the start of Mello's blemish. The skin underneath's healed, sure enough, however - its wrinkled. Garish. Taut. The other's metaphorical rubber band, pulled tight and if one gets too close, if one pushes too much, the whole thing could snap right back. Greed skips over it, instead choosing to outline the mark with a soft, tracing touch of his own. No, here? Here, even he knows his limits.]
[And some things just aren't worth the trouble.]
Ah - you really are something, aren't you. [Whispered. Greed talks into Mello's skin like a promise. He maps him out with the very tips of his teeth and as one of his hands drifts further down M's chest, the other presses boldly into his back. Forcing their skin to meet as close as dancers, plotting inches of space. He leads and suggestions. Guides and coaxes. The clip of his heels and the not-so-subtle prod of his fingers, an effort to keep his lover stepping back, back, back.]
[Eventually though, he pauses again - the tips of his claws, barely tucked into the hem of the other's pants. One of his knuckles brushes Mello's hip.]Lovely - [The Sin's slurs, his mouth hitching a hair off Mello's neck. He pops the button to M's leathers not a second later and as his thumb circles, he gingerly brings his eyes upward. Unlike before, the thirst in them is more blatant. Red pounds in his sockets; a string of purple slinks between. The former homunculus hooks his talon at the inside of the zipper and as the tip of it connects with steel, he shoots an inspection(ary) glance over M's shoulder. The dresser behind them is anything but organized. Empty bottles line the mirror, odds and ends pile themselves dangerously on the edge. Yet, considering the circumstances -]
[Greed's smile splits and without even a hint of hesitation, he moves to snag the other's thighs. He makes an effort to snare both of Mello's legs behind the back of the knee - a notion to hold, to spread, and an offer for him to take, take, take.]
[Because if he loses a few bottles, a few trinkets? Well - ]
no subject
[Ah, but what is they say about the devil?]
["How merciful he can be."]
[Behind the sway of Mello's back, Greed's nails suddenly skate together. They brush against each other with a sharpening trill; the sound, similar to that of a butcher's block, plucking out its best. The former homunculus shrinks his head a bit lower and as the other's fingers play at he dip of his skull, a longing hum fights behind his teeth. The world's desires, all but hissing like prisoners beating against an overcrowded cell.] Oh - ? Is that what you think? Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. But this - [He hushes and one of his claws barely skips down Mello's spine.] - sorry, but that's all you, sweetheart. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I told you before: in the end, it is your choice. You just have to tell me exactly what you want, hmn?
[Though, he already knows his answer. Need. If anyone is an expert, he's certainly it. And as M's chuckle teases his ear, the Sin slyly pivots his heel. He forces his boot up and in; its dramatic tip, nudging aside Mello's legs as a wordless inquiry:]
["If you let me - oh, babe. I'll show you exactly what it's like."]
[A rush of soot shakes from his horns and the former homunculus plants a trail of kisses down M's exposed throat. He does it with a purpose - the bottom of his ear, first. Right outside his pulse, second. The action is continuous. Slow. The love of a sewer drain, sighing out its smoke, tasting the air, and feeling the life up above for the short, quick time that it has. No, even with all the centuries he's had, these are the moments he savors. And if he's taking too long, if he's dragging it out - ]
[Greed's mouth wrenches open; his exhale, humid and dank. One of his hands keys up Mello's side and as the tips of his fingers come upon his scar, a blatant pause steals his touch. All of his have their stories. Be it something they did, something out of their control, a mix of both, or just simply, an unfortunate case of wrong place, wrong time. Whatever the reason, the scale is vast. A human spectrum of the worst kind, bringing them here, here, here.]
[And what finds them but none other than avarice, avarice incarnate.]
[It's one of the reasons he hesitates. The former homunculus hovers his thumb above the start of Mello's blemish. The skin underneath's healed, sure enough, however - its wrinkled. Garish. Taut. The other's metaphorical rubber band, pulled tight and if one gets too close, if one pushes too much, the whole thing could snap right back. Greed skips over it, instead choosing to outline the mark with a soft, tracing touch of his own. No, here? Here, even he knows his limits.]
[And some things just aren't worth the trouble.]
Ah - you really are something, aren't you. [Whispered. Greed talks into Mello's skin like a promise. He maps him out with the very tips of his teeth and as one of his hands drifts further down M's chest, the other presses boldly into his back. Forcing their skin to meet as close as dancers, plotting inches of space. He leads and suggestions. Guides and coaxes. The clip of his heels and the not-so-subtle prod of his fingers, an effort to keep his lover stepping back, back, back.]
[Eventually though, he pauses again - the tips of his claws, barely tucked into the hem of the other's pants. One of his knuckles brushes Mello's hip.]Lovely - [The Sin's slurs, his mouth hitching a hair off Mello's neck. He pops the button to M's leathers not a second later and as his thumb circles, he gingerly brings his eyes upward. Unlike before, the thirst in them is more blatant. Red pounds in his sockets; a string of purple slinks between. The former homunculus hooks his talon at the inside of the zipper and as the tip of it connects with steel, he shoots an inspection(ary) glance over M's shoulder. The dresser behind them is anything but organized. Empty bottles line the mirror, odds and ends pile themselves dangerously on the edge. Yet, considering the circumstances -]
[Greed's smile splits and without even a hint of hesitation, he moves to snag the other's thighs. He makes an effort to snare both of Mello's legs behind the back of the knee - a notion to hold, to spread, and an offer for him to take, take, take.]
[Because if he loses a few bottles, a few trinkets? Well - ]
[Nothing in this world is free now, is it?]