[Regrets, doubt, complications - he's never had use of any of them. Not the second-guesses that come with indecision, not the hesitation between should-have(s) and what-if(s). No, he's a creature bound by his making; a thing dedicated to one motive and one alone, driving it close, close, close. It's the very reason he can take his time and while Mello pulls his teeth impatiently near his cheek, Greed merely slips himself into the space between his thighs. His own motion, as drawn-out and languid as a heavy curtain, lapping under a summer's idle breeze.]

[The Sin's nose pushes forward and as M's thumb digs in, the faintest trace of smoke forces itself out from his smile. In some ways, Mello is predictable. Where some may bend and beg, he grips, yanks, and pulls to get what he wants. All, under the salesman assumption that this, ah this, it's mutual beneficial, isn't it? Even if he is playing with fire, he's leveled out his options. The constant play, deliberately blowing and churning like that of a billows, coaxing the flame bright, bright, bright.]

[Yet, yet. He's still getting it oh, oh, so wrong.]

[Greed's mouth pries open and the wetness on his tongue quickly fizzles dry.] Hurt you? Ha - [A hiss of laughter slivers out of his teeth. The former homunculus presses his fingers across Mello's leg. He lets the smooth part of his skin skip atop leather; the look similar to that of rocks, easily lapping across a surface.] You should know me better by now, M. If I really wanted to do that, I would have done it already. [The crinkle-combination of leather and fur grinding down his back lingers. It causes his wings to pinch in, to invert; a contortionist's infernal display, alight with heat. It's only when the last hooks pass through, does his vest finally fall. The twist of his body, the weighted thwack that follows, more similar to that of a slippery something, emerging out of its shell.]

[Because Mello did this, didn't he. His curiosity, a cat's, killing inquisition, opening an unknown box.]

[The dull nails at his hips scrape dust and the Sin ushers his head under the other's chin - his jaws, an inch from his throat.] Good. If you were afraid of me, this wouldn't exactly work now, would it. [He emphasizes his point with a resounding clack of his teeth. No, it would do them little to no good. Sure, he needs, sure he wants, but as inhuman as he is, hurting his own? The very thought of it?]

[Well, let it never be said that the devil doesn't have his standards.]

[Greed turns his wrist. He coils his pinkie inward with a steely flick - a switch-blade's harrowing announcement. The tip of it snares the button to M's pants and as his arm casually jerks, he begins picking away at the clasp. His motion, as lethargic as loan-shark, shelling his coins.] That would be a real shame - [Purred. The former homunculus plants a trail of kisses down the other's throat. Over his pulse, he goes - the razor-edged hint of his mouth, ever-so-near. The zipper in his hand whines its protest and as the last of it unhinges, the Sin dips himself low. That grin of his, plucking at the hem as sure as a vulture, cleaning the bits off a bone.]

[Until:] Don't move too much, hmn? Wouldn't want you to make a liar out of me. [The Sin's warning is short lived and as the split of his tongue unwinds, he carefully motions his lips around the tip of Mello's cock. The sharps of his jaws, consciously in mind.]

[After all, honesty?]

[Oh, is it avarice's finest virtue.]