nestingdevil | ➥ PROMPT | emerald and crimson

It still made him wince; still made him inwardly recoil, despite knowing. Despite knowing that those broken bones would mend, that the blood on the floor would be gone. That that gaping hole where a skull used to be would soon reform. Piece by piece, inch by inch like some gruesome creation.

And he did it without so much as a care. Without so much as a flinch. Just that ever-present smile, finger to the sky and it was all dramatics. All a display.

A means to fill his rather avaricious appetite.

Loki was silent as he mapped the blood smears. Mapped the arcs of crimson splattered up the wall, across rich stone and intricate gold. And he smoothed a hand to the front of his leathers, let the soft side of his palm slowly trace the metal accents, the intricate pattern-work that he prided himself on.

Because faced with mortality, the God in question could only look inward.

He side-stepped briefly when the corpse finally twitched. And from the heels, his would-be companion rose. Like a creature out of the grave, hand still poised to the air as if frozen stiff. And jaws hung open, the small trickles of blood ignited in that terrible red arc. Bolts that sprung worth with no definite source.

Shaping, reforming. Pulling bone and tissue out of nowhere and snapping it against a skull. Wrapping like the fingers of a fly-trap and there was a drawn out groan as white-shot eyes rolled forward. As those eerie pupils flipped back and Greed swung his head forward. Pushed a thumb into nostril to push the blood out to the floor.

Loki arched a thin brow slowly. A silent gesture as he watched the remnants sprinkle the tip of his boots. "Must you," he stated, voice clipped. Tone a bit soured as his fingers spread and in a quick flash of blue, the blood splatter was gone. "-I have no need for your pieces, Greed."

And the monster just watched him. A grin slowly rising as he wiped his chin clean with the back of his wrist. Smeared the blood away to reveal those sharp pearly whites. That insatiable smirk that fit the name.

"But unlike most, I usually come back," was his reply, body lifting with the help of his thighs. With the help of his hands at his knees and he straightened himself. Slumped only slightly as he rested a palm on the outer rim of his hip. "-besides, this isn't the first time I've done that to prove a point, lovely."

Lovely. Loki's eyes briefly widened at the word. A slight tick at the edge of his eyes. He was familiar with the pet name, familiar with its odd sort of sincerity. It was a word that held so much in so little; that was worth far more than its simplicity gave it. And as he closed gaps between himself and the creature in front of him, the God gave a slight smile. A gentle pull at his lips. "Yes. You are quite a marvel, you know."

With mere inches between them, Loki twisted his hands over each other. Eyes slipping away from his partner, fingers lighting up with the faintest tinges of blue as he motioned fingertip over fingertip. Let that electric fire coil tight between his palms before a gem formed between his palms. Green as he was, and as sharp as his uncanny lover.

A perfect mix of the two.

"A marvel that should be rewarded," Loki spoke up, his voice like a whisper. Like the cruel tongue of a long-separated beauty. A fairytale ending in tragedy.

With a quick snap of the wrists, the jewel fell into outstretched hands. And eyes met slit pupils, met that stretching smile, those wicked teeth. Met thighs that spread to bring the creature low; to have him hovering just off the ground by the curve of his boots, by the jut of his spine.

Loki placed a hand to black spikes. Slipped gentle fingers through those too-dark strands, felt the solidity of a skull. Felt as a tongue touched the tips of his nails, as jaws edged the emerald deep into covetous jaws. And as the Sin rolled the stone against the back of his teeth, his eyes closed shut. All the while, Loki fingers clenched and he held on without a sound. Forced the other forward with only a muffled laugh for his troubles.

Because it was perfection. An awful sort of perfection the two of them made. Red smeared against green, a beautiful contrast.

It was of no surprise when he felt claws scrape against his leathers. No surprise when he could hear the metal falling to the ground, could feel the restrictive cling of his clothing wash away. And when his lover took him, when he swallowed with that gem balancing just at the tip of his tongue, Loki could feel of no better place to be.

For it was better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven anyday.