Fullmetal Alchemist. Lust/Gluttony. NC-17. 500 words.
Gluttony was a creature of simple wants.
Gluttony was a creature of simple wants. One could argue that they all were—each of them who had been born with sin already tied to their flesh. But Gluttony was raw and unfocused, too caught up in the needs of the moment to think ahead, and burdened with powerful emotions as easy to manipulate as they were to hurt.
Lust cupped his round face with both of her hands, smiled thinly when his small eyes blinked up at her. His nostrils flared, drawing in the smell of sex and blood that clung to her.
“Lust?” he said. Questioning, always questioning. He could have been wholly Dante’s if the woman had known how to give and not just take.
“Was it lonely while I was out?” Lust asked. Half the furniture had vanished. What few objects remained in the room all bore the crescent marks of his teeth.
He nodded, mouth dropping open, and Lust wrapped her arms around him. She pulled his face into her breasts and gently placed a kiss on the top of his head. His lips were warm against her skin, and she could feel her own brand of hunger stirring in his body. She cradled him close as that hum of want grew and grew until it resonated in her bones so strongly it made her shiver to think of denying herself—denying him—the fleeting escape of orgasm.
“Come,” Lust said, heading for the bedroom and wondering if she’d find most of the furniture devoured there as well. Gluttony trailed obediently behind, his footsteps heavy on the bare wooden floorboards.
The room appeared untouched, and Lust led Gluttony to the edge of the bed. She bid him wait as she settled back amongst the pillows like a queen upon a carnal throne. Extending a nail, straightedge sharp, she drew it up along the length of her dress, splitting the material easily. The darkness slithered over her knees and fell away from her hips, peeling back with the watery ripple of silk to reveal in inches the pale skin of her thighs, the swells and folds of her cunt, and finally, her breasts.
“Now? Now, Lust?”
Gluttony’s mouth spread wide and smiling. His tongue dangled heavy and dripping, eager to taste, and Lust spread herself wide in invitation. Her eyes narrowed to slits as he crawled up between her knees, and she rested her hands on the broad expanse of his shoulders as he cleaned the come streaking the insides of her thighs.
“Patience,” she murmured, nails sinking into his flesh until he whined and slowed the frantic lapping of his tongue.
“Patience,” she repeated. Her eyes slid closed. Sex stilled the restlessness she felt, the clawing hunger for the something that she was beginning to doubt Dante could provide. Part of her wished she had Gluttony’s uncomplicated, childlike view of things. Curving a hand over her breast and clutching hard, Lust moaned softly, and put that singlemindedness to use for her own advantage. “We must have patience.”