Type: Implications of m/m, General
Warnings: A bit of blood, some language
Summary: A night in the Devil's Nest, focusing on Kimbley, from Greed's POV.
Feel free to leave concrit, and I hope you enjoy it!
His eyes are gold, Greed thinks, as he mouths flattery into a giggling whore’s ear, nipping playfully at the soft lobe. Not the shimmering gold of jewelry, not the glistening gold of wealth and luxury. It’s the hard, angry gold, almost feral, pupils starkly black against the irises. They make his angled features stand out even more, accentuating the tight slant of his jaw, the straight nose, the thin lips, drawn flat, angled down slightly at one side. He’s sitting in his usual half-slumped pose, arms moodily resting over his knees, staring down into whatever poison he’s got, mouthing something to himself for a moment before he abruptly looks up to meet Greed’s gaze, the dim light behind the counter casting most of his face into shadow.
Fucking weird color – fucking fascinating. Something jagged flashes within as the alchemist catches Greed looking (a threat? promise?), before Kimbley breaks the contact, turns away in a deliberate motion of disinterest. Just looking at him is even more breathtaking, like looking into a flame, intensely bright, the sharpness of it all sparking his curiosity, his need to know why, what, and everything else about his new alchemist. Kimbley hasn’t exactly been forthcoming either, speaking only when absolutely necessary, most of his communication through hostile glances and derisive snorts.
The girl laughs loudly, flirtatiously as his hand squeezes tighter around her supple waist and he drags his attention back to her. It’s a quiet night, only a few customers enjoying drinks in the far corner, most of the girls out working the streets and alleys. Kimbley stands up now, leaving his untouched drink where it is as he moves across the bar, shoes cutting through the relative quiet. Greed sticks out a hand, grabs his arm as he passes, grinning up at him.
“Going to bed already?” he inquires, tilting his head jauntily.
Kimbley’s expression is contemptuous, eyes meeting Greed’s just for a moment before he looks down at the hand on his arm. Calmly, he places his fingers over Greed’s – eyes flicker again, something almost surprised, then smug once more – and does something, a prickling sensation creeping over his hand as it turns a slightly ashen beige, color spreading from fingertips to his wrist. The chimeras are on their feet now, starting towards them, but Kimbley’s already jerked loose, turning away to the stairs, the sound of his feet fading away within a few moments. Greed shakes his head at them, flexing out his hand – nothing seems to be wrong, probably just a trick of the light – let Kimbley have his sulk for now. He leans in to kiss, fingers stroking along her pretty chin.
And then his hand explodes, and he tastes blood, pulling back as the body slumps over his lap, jerking in death throes. Red leaks from her blasted mouth, her neck, one side of her jaw blown away in a ragged mess, a horrible gagging choke emitting from the mangled face before she goes limp, hands flopping against the stained couch. The pain in his own hand burns as his body rebuilds itself, but he doesn’t feel it, doesn’t feel the shards of his sunglasses popping out of his skin as he stares at the corpse, smells the coppery stench of blood in the air. The chimeras are already ushering the customers out, but he pays no attention, almost curiously touching the revealed teeth, watching one fall from the torn remains of her gums, rolling onto the floor with a sickly humorous clatter.
Something moves in the shadow of the stairwell, and he turns to find Kimbley, a triumphant grin on his face, staring at the bloody mess, eyes gleaming with a hunger Greed'd seen back at the prison. Gold eyes slide to his, vicious, cruel, and unrepentant, widening into shock, ending with a swift scowl of disappointment. Kimbley whips around, stalking back up the stairs, presumably to the room he’s claimed.
Well. That won’t do.
Greed licks his lips, shrugging off his bloodied jacket as he moves, catching Kimbley just as he gets to the room. Kimbley whirls as Greed comes closer, shoving his hands between them as Greed pushes him in and back against the wall, door crashing shut behind them. The creeping sensation starts again, fingers splayed against his chest, but Greed wrenches one hand away, then the other, trapping them both against the wall decisively. Now’s not the time for the other’s sullen antics – it’s his turn now.
Kimbley looks pretty like this, Greed muses, under his power, that blank bored mask wiped free from his face, eyes fixed on his with something akin to loathing. The alchemist struggles wildly, teeth bared, but it’s a simple matter to kiss him, just as he kissed that whore, forcing Kimbley to take it, even as he jerks away, biting sharply at him.
“Let me fucking go –“
“Now,” Greed says almost mildly, lip healing with a small jolt. “You’ve cost me my fun.”
“Fuck you,” Kimbley spits, kicking at him, nothing hidden about his expression now, clear fury on his face as he fights to get free, anger for the sake of anger.
Greed slides a kiss up Kimbley’s neck, pressing flush against the other. Kimbley stiffens, a badly hidden shudder racking him as Greed whispers into his ear, voice low and promising. Curious.
“How about now?”
He can feel the bony angles of other’s warm body – so thin, did they feed him at all in prison? – quick breaths hissing out into his ear as he waits for an answer. When the silence stretches too long, he smirks against the other’s neck, releasing his grip. Kimbley instantly lunges for him again, but Greed’s ready this time, slamming him back harder than before, catching the realization of the cat-and-mouse game in the alchemist’s renewed thrashing.
“If you want it, Kimbley,” he purrs, lips brushing his, “then just say yes.” He grinds forwards slightly, feeling rather than hearing the alchemist swallow what could have been a curse, could have been a moan. The room is quiet now except for Kimbley’s heavy breathing. Inwardly, Greed marvels at how easy it really is – maybe he should have tried this earlier, if his alchemist was going to respond so well. Another jerk of his hips thumps Kimbley’s head back against the wall, his teeth gritted. Resentment colors his furious gaze, tangled in reluctant hunger. Obviously, pissing Greed off and warning him away was the intent of his little display earlier. He doesn’t want this at all – but he does. How badly and why, Greed can’t tell, doesn’t know, but it’s enough to keep him quiet, keep him from spitting rage and more curses into his face. The inward struggle in his eyes is pleasure to see, a fighting against physical desire and evident revulsion.
“Get off,” Kimbley finally manages, tone shaken from his usual flat monotone, daring Greed to argue the point. Practically an invitation. He laughs now, lips teasing just under Kimbley’s tense jaw.
“If I do, then you won’t.” He doesn’t give Kimbley time to respond to that, cutting him off with more kisses.
The rigidity doesn’t leave the other’s frame for a second, but Kimbley seems to eventually get his fury under control, wary expression back on his face as he watches Greed, leaning away from the last kiss. He’s definitely at least partially interested now – Greed rocks back against him, earning a sharp intake of breath, eyes narrowing.
“If I let you, what do – what would I get?” he snaps after another minute, placing heavy emphasis on the ‘if’. Another hard yank on his wrists, making it clear he’s not ready to play, yet.
“What do you want?” Greed counters easily, ignoring Kimbley’s slip of tongue.
“How did you do that?” Kimbley suddenly demands instead, head jerking towards Greed’s arm. “I know I fucking blew your hand off.”
Greed smiles wide, before letting go of Kimbley, eyes lidding as inked palms descend upon him unerringly.
When he comes to, the other is leaning against the wall, breathing hard, staring at the blood spattered across his hands, then back at Greed. They watch each other for a few minutes; Kimbley’s face shuttered once more, that general look of disinterest settling over him. A tense balance hangs in midair, tipping first one way then the other as Kimbley’s glance flits between him and the door.
“Like it? I’m sure we –“
Before he’s finished speaking, Kimbley’s already left, slamming the door hard enough that it pops back out of the half-cracked frame, momentum carrying it open once more. A few moments later, the faint bang of the front door indicates that he’s left, never mind the late hour.
Greed doesn’t need to see the look on Kimbley’s face to know, to see the rage, hate, resentment, and most of all, sanguinary hunger roaring in his eyes behind the cold façade.
Kimbley most definitely wants it.