Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Solf J. Kimblee is stood in front of a bathroom mirror, the lights are all off except for the candles that align the basin of the sink. There’s just a little bit of ambient light, and in the mirror he is aware of the glow in his own eyes. He’s always been told that they’re pretty, aged and lustrous amber, and normally Kimblee would be inclined to agree, but he’s also felt the inclination for 14 years now that there’s someone who has far prettier eyes than his, they’re full of a mysterious age and youth combined in a sadistic yet sensitive concoction. He sees his own eyes whenever he looks in the mirror, but he’s always thinking of those.

Those vivid, violet eyes, and they were the first thing Kimblee noticed whenever he first gazed upon that gorgeous pale face.

Kimblee stands in front of the bathroom mirror, he gazes at himself as he always does, but for 14 years he has always thought about stark pale skin, olive green hair, and the violet flame that resides in those emotional eyes he’s come to finally be able to gaze back at. Tonight, he will be gazing at them from above, perched and so tenderly preying upon the most beautiful thing he has ever known. He still remembers the first time he heard its name.

Envy.

What an ironic name it was, really. Still is. Because from the first time Kimblee saw that delicate body, gazed upon that gorgeous face, heard that sharply androgynous voice, there was nothing but sincerity in the utter fact Kimblee had no idea what or who this beauteous creature could possibly be jealous of.

He pulls a hair tie off his wrist with his teeth, twists it open with his free hand, the other stays gripping his ponytail. He’s already got his black hair pulled back prim and precise with a brush that now sits on the sink basin, he’s careful not to nudge or push any of the candles that rest upon it. There is nothing a man could bribe him with this night that could take him away from the one he will be with, the thing he will get to do, the very thing he’s been waiting to do for 14 years.

Tonight, Solf J. Kimblee will finally get to know the feeling of that homunculus under him, and he will get to hear that shrill voice scream. And if he’s really lucky, he might even get to hear it screaming his name.

The only way a man could stop Kimblee from reveling in this victory would be death itself. And in this moment, standing in front of the mirror as he fixes his hair into a slick ponytail, Solf. J Kimblee has never felt more alive.

He wonders where his darling homunculus will be when he exits the bathroom. He wonders even more what it’ll be wearing for him for this most special night. Something sleek and black, a little risqué but not too much? Something frilly and lacy, racy and perhaps a pristine virgin white? Or maybe, nothing at all…

The thought makes Kimblee’s head spin. He pulls on the strap of his tank top, smooths down the ribbed fabric, and decides that now is the time he shall go find out and get to know for himself. Now, better than ever, he’s finally in his moment, and he will get to know this most beauteous creature in every way possible, and in every way he's ever wanted. It is the one thing Kimblee thinks he’s ever truly wanted, and he’s about to get it.

Solf J. Kimblee is about to stake and claim his prize. Tonight he will finally be allowed to take what is now rightfully his. And there is nothing that will stop him.

He smiles in the mirror, a wicked, bastardly smile that no one could ever pull off quite like him. It turns into a grin of the same note, and as the expression marks his face he thinks of the one grin that has managed to captivate him like nothing else; something wide, thin-lipped and toothy, something so sardonically sadistic and evil that it always will, a grin he hopes to see grace that pale, utterly drop dead gorgeous face tonight as they both writhe in the pleasures of their victory. Kimblee will be the one finally taking what is his, but there is no mistake to be made that Envy will be receiving all the gifts tonight. The gift of freedom, the gift of liberation, and the gift that is Solf J. Kimblee’s eternal devotion in the flesh. And Kimblee will not stop giving it to him until there is nothing left to give.

Kimblee tugs at his ponytail for a second, makes sure its secure. He’s grown his hair out long enough that only a sliver of silky black falls out from his bangs, and he decides in that moment that he looks good. Desirable, even.

But compared to what he’s about to see when he exits the bathroom, he makes no mistake in his thoughts whatsoever. The thing he’s about to see, about to take and have for himself, oh, that thing? That thing could be what takes his breath for good and sends him straight to the gate.

Turning on his heel in a swift motion, never swift in the same way that utterly breathtaking homunculus of his is able to pull off but smooth nonetheless, Kimblee flicks his ponytail back over his shoulders, and as he starts to walk he can feel it swish behind him from the bounce in his step. He will hide such bounce to the best of his ability, but Kimblee’s never been good at disguising how he feels, though he supposes that neither has his beloved homunculus managed to acquire such a skill within the near 400 years its been alive. But it’s fine, okay, it’s really alright even with Kimblee. He wants all that bottled up high-strung emotion to pour out for him tonight, and that fine-tuned little body to sing for him. On this night, neither one of them have to hide a thing from each other ever again.

Kimblee extends his hand out, touches the knob on the door and turns it, listens to it creak. They’re in a nice lovely house that Dante has so graciously gifted him, its spacious while still maintaining a rustic feel that Kimblee’s always had a liking for himself, he finds the place charming for the circumstances surrounding it. It’s a place he knows Envy knows and hates, but in given time with Kimblee by his side he's sure that his most darling homunculus will learn to love it. Kimblee will kiss him on the cheek everyday before taking the train down to Central, he’ll work for however long he needs in his new high ranking position as general, he’ll get to brag to everyone there about the sexy little thing he has back at home waiting for him, the wife he’s always secretly desired, and when he’s finally done he’ll get to ride the train on back to Dublith and take that pretty, perfect wife of his in his arms and kiss him on the lips and whisper in his ear every single thing he’s been thinking about doing to him since he first walked out the door.

He imagines what Envy would look like in an apron and nothing else, with his back turned to him so he can get a direct view of that perky, perfect little ass, and despite being only a few years off from 40 it’s a vision that solidifies in his head and immediately makes blood rush down to his core. He can feel himself hardening at the thought, though tries his best to will the urge he feels to take right now away for the time being. After all, he’s got all weekend to exercise that urge, and he knows he’ll have more than enough time later to do what he pleases. Kimblee is not a man of patience by any means, but he has waited 14 years for this night, so he supposes that maybe he is. He’ll wait as long as Envy needs to make this good for them both, as long as Envy needs for it to want him in the way he wants him, there is no one else that could compare no matter how long the wait, even if it lasted forever. But Kimblee’s been fortunate, to his own surprise more so than anyone else’s at this point, and that fortune comes from knowing exactly how to shift a situation in his favor. One way, or another.

The bathroom’s connected to the master bedroom, it was Dante’s room Kimblee presumes and he can’t exactly fault Envy for not wanting to sit on the bed that wench used to sleep in. There’s a certain kind of twisted irony in it, that the same bed that Dante used to slumber and undoubtedly fornicate in for hundreds of years with whoever she was taken with at the time will be the same bed that he ravages her precious son in for the first time and will forever. He’ll fuck that sinfully beautiful thing in every position possible on that mattress until it forgets her name and its own and remembers nothing but Kimblee’s. As he slowly pushes the door open to see that he is correct about there being no Envy present in the room, Kimblee can’t help but wryly smile at the thought. This beauteous creature truly has nothing to envy, and tonight, neither does he. He wonders what that seductive voice that draws him in so deep would sound like saying his name, gasping it, moaning it. Screaming it, crying it, and he’s definitely hard as a brick now but it’s fine, its okay, its really quite alright because Solf J. Kimblee has every intention of making such fantasy into reality and he’ll have the sweet little bitch begging for him with that name in no time, once he’s gotten it all relaxed and comfortable, all pliant and willing and needing him.

KImblee’s dick is so fucking hard now that he could swing it and bust a hole through the windowpane with the damn thing.

The lights are all off in the bedroom, its evening now and the sun has already set. Kimblee can still see a faint glow of deep orange at the bottom of the horizon, it’s been a hot summer day and has transcended into a warm summer night, the windowsill is open just a little and Kimblee can feel the breeze from outside, its late July and there’s still a bit of condensation in the air even in the rising nighttide, though whether there was or wasn’t it wouldn’t affect the heat that Kimblee feels burning in his chest. It’s enough of a light that he can see even in the near darkness, there’s a bit of ambient light that still glows from the bathroom where the candles are lit, and it gives Kimblee a fine idea. He turns back on his heel and steps back into the bathroom, reaching his hand out for the sink basin to grab a candle and take it for the bedroom. The nerve damage in his hands from years of causing explosions with them has numbed them enough to where it doesn’t hurt him in the least, and he’s able to grab the second one and carry them both with ease back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He walks over to the dresser and sets one on top of it, admiring the way the candlelight illuminates the surrounding wall behind it, and then walks over to the bedside table and places the other candle down on top of it, slightly pushing the lamp that already resides on it to the side. He thinks about it for a second, and promptly walks back over to the dresser to reposition the second candle on it as well, the last thing he wants is for his precious little homunculus to flail those dainty limbs in the throes of their shared passion and light a house fire.

Speaking of that utterly malevolent, magnificent creature, the beguilingly lovely thing must be around somewhere. Kimblee watches the flame in the candle closest to the window, he can see his reflection in the dim glow of light and lets out a relaxed sigh. Relaxed, but not content. That will come, when Kimblee gets to see the reflection of his most bewitching Envy, the only thing alive that has managed to cast such a spell on him. Kimblee has decided long ago that he doesn’t believe in any deity or the art of witchcraft despite its initial ties to alchemy, but his most alluring little homunculus may be the nearest thing he’s seen to magic, and the closest thing he’s known to god itself.

Kimblee knows, that wherever Envy is and whatever he’s wearing or not, however he looks that it must be absolutely divine. He can only imagine that the warmth of pulsing homunculus insides will feel like seventh heaven around him, it will soothe the ache in his groin and the flame that burns so hot in his heart. And oh, who the hell is he kidding?

All that creature could ever do to him is turn a drop of gasoline into a wild, blazing inferno.

“Darling,” Kimblee whispers, and it is the first word he utters out loud that night. He steps towards the bedroom door, not hastily neither meandering, he’s done enough of that already and his patience for himself is starting to wear thin. Solf J. Kimblee is the kind of person that no one can (or should) stay in a room with too long alone, and that counts even for himself. He’s the kind of person that can (and will) drive you mad by being around for too long, figurative and literal and in every sense of what madness is and can be. But it’s fine, okay, really alright, and Kimblee knows this now, now after 14 years, because he has finally found someone who’s just as sick, sick, insane, fucking insane and mad as he is.

It’s really a shame that he cannot breed this prepossessing thing of beauty. He could possess Envy with his seed, meanwhile Envy has already possessed his soul. Equivalent exchange, would it not be?

But no seed to take care of means all the more time for Kimblee to fuck them into his virulent little beauty, and Kimblee decides then and there that the law of equivalent exchange must really not be real, as Dante has told him after taking him under her wing. Kimblee has spent his life destroying others only to get into indulge in what will undoubtedly be the greatest pleasure he’s ever been blessed with. In this world, its kill or be killed, sinners are the first to be blessed, and how beautifully ironic it is that his first real blessing will come from the original sin itself.

The thought makes Kimblee realize he’s salivating a little. Just a little, nothing lacking class or couth, just a show of his eternal devotion that he is so eager to give, more eager to do than any of the wars he’s helped wage, any of the lives he’s held in the palm of his hand and watched explode into pieces of viscera all over him, he’s more excited at this prospect than he ever was at the sight of crimson blood and gore all over his hands.

I will bless you with everything I have, is the thought that rings in Kimblee’s head as he opens the bedroom door and makes his way to the stairwell. He descends down, step by step, until he’s in the dining room. The empty dining room, though Kimblee senses a buzz in the air, something strange and eerie and most of all familiar, it’s the buzz he detects whenever there’s even a fragment of philosopher’s stone nearby, like in the adjacent room, for example. This buzz, it hums, it vibrates, it pulses within Kimblee stronger than any mere fragment of stone. It beats in Kimblee’s heart like it’s the very thing supplying him of life. And there’s nothing ironic to Kimblee that of course, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and is about to truly know is the most flawless philosopher’s stone ever forged. If Kimblee ever does come across that bastard Hohenheim, he’ll really have to thank him for creating such a perfect son.

And thank him again for crafting him an even more perfect bride as he folds the son of the bitch between his palms and splatters him across the ground into nothing.

There’s a bit of lamplight shining in through the crack in the doors that lead to the living room, and Kimblee realizes he was right. Envy is somewhere close by, probably sitting on the couch waiting for him, and Kimblee decides that he’ll go get their drinks prepared now, because if he doesn’t and walks in to see whatever he’s about to there really is no telling how much thinner his patience can wear for either of them. The thought of the prissy little thing dressed up all sweet and proper for him is enough for Kimblee to feel his groin pulse with anticipation, normally Envy adorns itself in that cropped turtleneck and matching black skort that shows off its pretty, petite little body so well, but tonight is special after all and Kimblee has no doubt that his violent little darling will look anything short of utterly ravishing.

Kimblee heads into the kitchen, over to the refrigerator, and takes out a bottle of red raspberry wine from the door. Envy is a malicious creature, but you’d never know it just by looking at the sweet thing, those sweet eyes, that sweet face, that utter delectable little body that Kimblee was sure he had to have under him from the first time he laid eyes on it, Greed really was right whenever he’d call him his doll, because that was the perfect descriptor for Envy’s beauty. And now, Greed was long gone, far out of the way, and tonight would be the start of Envy being Kimblee’s doll. And Solf J. Kimblee has every intention of playing with him until it breaks for him.

There is a little plastic zip lock bag in one of the crisper drawers of the fridge, it is something that Kimblee is aptly looking for. It contains three white tablets, two for Envy and one for him. He opens the drawer and pulls it out, closes the drawer and takes the bag over to where he’s set the wine on the table. He promptly pulls the zip lock apart and opens the bag, though doesn’t take anything out of it yet, rather sets it down on the table and whisks over to the cabinet to grab two wine glasses out. He does so, closes it with just a little creak, and walks back over to the table to set them down on top of it. He is going to prepare himself and his bride something to drink, something that will surely loosen both their inhibitions and get his precious little darling yearning for him in the same way he oh so yearns for it. Oh, he does.

Kimblee pops the cork and pours Envy’s glass first, he is nothing short of a gentleman in a time like this after all. He pours his own glass second, and even tops Envy off with a little extra. Then, he takes a tablet out of the bag, and drops it into his own drink. He watches as it dissolves, and when its finished he lifts the glass to his lips and takes a sip.

Tastes like red raspberries. Excellent.

He takes out the other two tablets from the bag and drops them one after the other into Envy’s glass, waiting for the first one to dissolve before adding the second. He could taste it if he so is inclined to, but rather declines. Kimblee is a man that despite not believing in a god, undoubtedly trusts the process, and he’s sure his homunculus bride will have no qualms about taking at least enough sips of what it’s been given for the ecstasy to take hold of him. He remembers seeing it drunk off its pert little ass at the Devil’s Nest, sitting in Greed’s lap and giggling for the fucking thing, the only thing more damning than watching two demons having sex is two demons making love, being in love, and Kimblee’s face sours at the thought. Its something he’s bitter about even now, but its fine, its okay, he supposes, because Greed is the dead one and Kimblee is more alive than ever and there is nothing to steal from a dead abomination but the memory of its dignity, and Solf J. Kimblee does not give a damn about such things.

“You haven’t known him for 200 years like I have. You don’t know him at all.”

“And what if someday I do?”

“Someday isn’t here with you now, Kimblee. I told you you’re in love with a fantasy. I’m in love with the real thing.”

On the thought of that memory, Kimblee notes that it is truly hilarious how the tables can and do turn.

“One more thing, Kimblee.”

“Yes, Greed?”

“If you ever touch him, I’ll kill you.”

It may have been, probably was a viable threat at the time. But now it is certainly no longer, because Kimblee is in his someday, right here, right now, he’s in his future with Envy, and there is no avaricious sin of Greed that can take it away from him.

“I’d like to see you try,” Kimblee utters under his breath, and laughs just a little at the prospect. I’d like to see you fucking try now, you greedy cocksucker.

Kimblee lets a sigh escape from his mouth, not tired, just present. He has a feeling he will be, can already imagine how his hips will ache from not having used his pelvic muscles in so long. But tonight will be a night well worth that wait. Kimblee’s never particularly had an interest in fucking, fucking women or fucking men, but that all changed along with the very chemistry of what composed his soul 14 years ago in the barren wastes of Ishval, where he saw that gorgeous creature standing in the dunes of sand with its delicate back turned to him. Truly a flower in the desert, a rose Kimblee has long decided, a bloody red rose, so pleasant on the eyes and utterly beautiful, only made so much more by the stark contrast of sharp thorns on its stem, the very thing connecting it to the bush giving it life and far from pleasant if one were to touch it. A crimson flower, perfect to pick for the Crimson Alchemist, and now that he’s got it in a vase sitting so pretty he will bare the pain that comes from touching its thorns and deflower his pretty little rose until each petal is soaking wet and that delicate core is barred open for him and seeded.

It is time, Kimblee reckons, to serve him and his bride some wine. He takes a glass in each hand and picks them up, and begins to walk over to the dining room door. Its already open wide enough to where he can nudge through with ease, the wine glasses in his hands don’t even splash or spill, and Kimblee can sense that buzz of the world’s purest philosopher’s stone so close it nearly drives him into frenzy. Kimblee is a man of insanity but certainty, and he’s never felt more of both than he does now. Tonight will be the best night of his life, and it will be the night that truly drives him to a point of no return.

The doors to the living room are still slightly ajar, enough for a sliver of lamplight to illuminate the area Kimblee’s in so he can see but not enough for him to push past them without spilling the glasses in his hand. He’s sure he’s got some spare ecstasy around here somewhere but can certainly not be bothered to go scrounging around for it now, so the last thing he wants to do is spill either glass and ruin him and his bride’s mood enhancers for the night. He decides to carefully set the glasses down on the dining room table, on the edge but not too close, and goes on over to the thick wooden doors to push them apart. He could use alchemy, he supposes, but his alchemy does nothing but destroy and he’d rather not cause a bang from resulting explosion and risk startling his darling. Kimblee is normally a man who thrives in the chaos that is fear, but the last thing he wants to do tonight is give Envy anything to be afraid of. He wants his sweet thing relaxed and open for him tonight, by any means necessary, he wants the capricious mood of his exquisite little flower to bloom in full and that lithe little body to blossom for him on this most exceptional night.

Kimblee peeks in through the doors at the couch in the living room, the back of it faces him and he can see just a little olive green sticking up over the headrest. He smiles, grins even, just a little at the sight. His homunculus does not seem to have been startled by the sound of any slight commotion, possibly hasn’t even noticed it and there’s something about the idea of sneaking up on and surprising the sweet little darling that makes Kimblee feel another jolt of heat pulse through his groin. He could just take the thing over the couch, lay him back and have his way with it, pull him up and bend it over so he can breach his way into that fine little piece of ass and ravage it, it’s an oh so tempting proposition he’s giving himself but Kimblee must really decline. He’s hopeful he’ll get to, he can’t lie to himself, he’s never been good at it and never will when it comes to his Envy. But if he waits for them to finish their drinks, gives just enough time for the ecstasy to settle into their systems and hit their bloodstreams… the crystalline clear, ruby red fluid of the most immaculate philosopher’s stone ever created laced with such heated want, fervent need and feverish desire… well, that’s just undeniable, isn’t it?

Sure is, Kimblee decides, and heads back over to the dining room table to grab their glasses of wine. Sure is.

Envy’s is to the left and his is to the right. Kimblee wouldn’t forget it, couldn’t forget something so important for him to remember. He picks them up, Envy’s first and then his own, Kimblee’s left-handed himself and its perfect really because he gets to hold Envy’s glass closest to his heart and isn’t that just some lovely fucking poetic justice. Kimblee has heard from Greed in the time he knew him how much Envy appreciated such fine things, and he finds that despite learning it from the bastard that he’s able to appreciate the quality of such too on this even more fine quality night. He feels high just thinking about it, thinking about his Envy, his Envy now and no one else’s, his thoughts are getting misconstrued now if not somewhat sporadic and that means to Kimblee that it’s about high time he stop thinking about tonight’s affairs and start making them happen.

And what time could be better than now, is what Kimblee asks himself in his head, though it is a question he damn well knows the answer to. None.

Kimblee can almost sense his steps falter from weakness in his knees as he reaches the open doors to the living room, he can still see just a little olive green sticking up over the headrest, telling him that Envy’s positioning hasn’t changed, the thing is literally sitting all proper and pretty for him and Kimblee may be salivating again, now with less class and less couth. The warm ache he feels throb in his groin is now anything but, the way his cock twitches and throbs at the thought of being so very close to the object of his desire is certainly uncouth, he can only imagine what he could look like sitting on that couch all perched and so pretty waiting for him, maybe its face is relaxed and calm or maybe the moody little thing has those decadent lips pulled into an even prettier pout, Kimblee’s seen it first hand back when the little beauty would stomp its way into the Devil’s Nest pretending it didn’t know exactly what it was there for, he’s heard what Dante thinks of her golden son’s defiance of her and her wishes, her orders, and really all Kimblee could see in the vile wench’s complaints was irony, because while Greed rebelling against the cunt was something he never cared about much one way or the other, it was that same spark of rebellion in his Envy that blew wind over a dropped match and set his whole sky ablaze. He’s heard from Greed first hand just how much Envy would break his back to please that fucking bitch and keep her happy at the expense of his own, that Greed had asked him over a century ago to run away with him, that Greed didn’t even give a damn about the philosopher’s stone anymore and only cared about taking the one thing that mattered to him. He remembers a piece of a conversation between them that had more impact on his decision making then maybe he would like to admit.

“So what’s it matter if he goes back to the wretched cunt anyways? He still keeps coming back to you, doesn’t he?”

“That’s the thing, Kimblee. Coming is a variable, going is a constant.”

“I’m not that kind of alchemist, Greed. Drop the science talk and be clearer.”

“Coming and going is a paradox of sorts, is what I’m saying to you. What comes may not always come, but what goes will always eventually go.”

“Come again?”

The next thing Kimblee remembers from that conversation was the hearty, bitter sound of Greed’s laugh.

“That was a good one. But jokes aside Kimblee, I think you’d know this better than anyone. Thing about life is that things  aren’t promised to come to you, but when they do you know that unless you take them for yourself that they will always go. Necessities, luxuries, all of it. But with life itself, with anything – if you don’t take something and make it yours, someone else will. And if you have that thing keep falling into your hands and you don’t grasp onto it with everything you have, someone will eventually snatch it and take it from you, and they won’t give it back.”

It is a conversation that has stuck with Kimblee ever since Greed first held it with him. But as some may say, and as Kimblee most certainly has and now with utmost certainty does – finders, keepers. May the rest weep, if Kimblee decides to give them that mercy instead of doing what he does best. He sure hasn’t yet.

And he makes a mental note, only to be shared with himself and no one else, that he never will.

Whatever it takes.

“My darling,” Kimblee says as he steps through the wooden doors into the living room. He sees that olive green rise a little as his homunculus shifts his position on the couch. He moves a little, but not too much, just enough to where Kimblee knows he has heard him. He doesn’t say anything to him in response, for one second, two seconds, three, Kimblee’s close to the back of the couch now and is about to turn the corner-

“Kimblee.”

Envy’s voice is mostly monotone, cold, it’s the one it puts on when it’s playing his act he does so well. But Kimblee’s spent enough time around the petulant creature at this point to know better. There is something besides coldness in that voice, and despite the monotone of it there’s certainly nothing uncaring about it. It holds something in its tone that Kimblee could make out possibly better than anybody.

It drips with venom.

And it is the only voice that could ever run a chill straight down Kimblee’s spine. Oh, isn’t that delicious?

It most surely is, thinks Kimblee as he wets the roof of his mouth with his tongue, it’s to the best of his ability but it is still dry. Kimblee is far from worried about it however, because as soon as he turns the corner, he knows he’ll practically be fucking drooling at the sight in front of his eyes. He realizes his footsteps have faltered again and he’s paused them this time around. That will most certainly have to change, he decides. He just has to see what this eternally beautiful creature has adorned itself in for him, whether it be something elegant, raunchy, or simply the air itself.

The air, it’s condensed with a stuffy heat. Filled with ticking anticipation, maybe even a little anxiety. Kimblee turns the corner, tilting his head down in what is definitely to his own surprise, anxiety, and he sets their glasses of wine down on the oak coffee table that sits in front of them. He releases them from his grasp and tilts his head back up slow, and when he does he’s glad he’s already set their glasses down, there’s a reason he did so first as opposed to getting greedy and immediately taking a peak. Because what is bared out in front of him now, is nothing short of everything Kimblee thought it would be, and so, so much more rapturously stunning.

Kimblee may as well be gazing at the very definition of divinity itself. No mere god could possibly hold the beauty he sees displayed out in front of him in this moment. All he is able to parse through his head now, is how this creature looks so absolutely and supremely divine. And Kimblee is nothing short of enraptured to be in its presence.

It takes a second or too, maybe three for Kimblee to think of a response. He breathes, and looks down at their wine glasses, pushing Envy’s across the table towards him with utmost care not to spill it. He is making an offering, and he has never been more sincere in his hope his most sanct homunculus will take it.

“Envy,” he says back, softly, quietly even, it’s a word that’s airy and pleasant on his tongue, but there is no mistake to be made that everything else about the moment feels heavy. It is the moment that will make or break the night, so Kimblee must choose his next words wisely. He thinks.

And then, he speaks.

“You look like a goddess,” he says, his eyes back on Envy, on his beautiful face, they’re scanning for his eyes until finally the pale amber of human meets the dark violet of homunculus, the first homunculus, the original sin, the sin of the supposed most brilliant alchemist to ever exist, but now he is Kimblee’s sin. That coward Hohenheim might have not been able to deal with the reality of his own creation, the weak man he was, is, Kimblee doesn’t care because now Envy is all his and he would gladly kill the pusillanimous bastard and fuck the sin of his forgotten son over his dead body if it would give that sublime sin any assuagement from the near four centuries of misery he’s suffered at the hands of his father. Kimblee has never cared about assuaging anyone, he seeks to do the opposite in every case with everyone he's ever met and ever will. Everyone, except for one, and that one exception is sat mere feet in front of him with its spikes of hair down around its shoulders in free falling grace, its body adorned in a smooth silky satin of vibrant olive green, green like grapevines, just like grapevines with the way those violet eyes gaze at him with something Kimblee cannot discern, but its more than alright because oh, what an utterly delectable, succulent fruit he has picked. All the souls that reside in that surely sapid little body, every budding piece of fruit that is so intricately woven into the vines of the immaculate creature that is his Envy, it is irresistible and irrefutable to Kimblee in a way that nothing else ever could be. His most coveted Envy, and as he sees something flicker within those eyes more violet than an orchard itself, he must say something else. He knows exactly what it is going to be. “You’re so beautiful.”

What Envy says next, surprises Kimblee if anything. It is not a statement, rather it is a question. A curious question, which means that Kimblee must be doing something right, as right as a man like him can get, anyways. Wrong with god and right with sin, as Kimblee has always said, and there’s a reason it is one of the few laws he abides by, because it is nothing if not sanct to him despite not believing in anything close to holy. He didn’t used to believe in sin, either, but now? Well, now he sees his very sin incarnated right before his own eyes, and he’s about to really revel in him, isn’t he?

“I am?”

“You most certainly are.” And Kimblee most certainly will.

There’s a bit of off-white lace that adorns the top hem of Envy’s nightgown, it’s almost a cream color, really, matches that pale skin perfectly if Kimblee does say so himself. It’s a color scheme that he can appreciate on his homunculus bride, though he supposes that after tonight that gown will be long discarded on the floor somewhere, and Envy will no longer be his bride, will he? No, Kimblee says, only in his head but still rings out true, and he fights with everything he has not to smile at the answer to his own question. He’ll be his wife.

His beautiful wife.

Envy places a hand under his chin, rests it on top, and Kimblee realizes that he is observing him. It is somewhat nonchalant, his bride does not seem overly impressed Kimblee will admit, but there’s a long way to go tonight and he’s sure he’ll have his foxy little thing enthralled with him by the time he’s done with him. And then the morning after that, if his sweet darling decides it needs anymore aweing from Kimblee himself. Envy’s gaze has become more focused on Kimblee in the moment now, almost like he’s reading his thoughts though Kimblee does know that it’s a stretch of imagination. The small smile he sees perch on the corners of Envy’s lips, is no stretch, however, and just as quickly as it fades Kimblee will remember it for the rest of the night, and the morning after this, and a long time after because he’ll be damned if he’s actually witnessed the first time the irascible little bitch has smiled for him. It is one of few things Kimblee thinks he could cherish forever, and he knows now he must be damned, but he’ll be even more so if he had any idea it could feel this good. He smiles back at Envy, an unadulterated expression, yet it holds no malice in any form and Kimblee can’t tell which one of them is shocked more by it. It grows a little wider, then falls off Kimblee’s face with a surprising sort of grace, his darling homunculus must be having an effect on him already because grace is not a trait of Kimblee’s. However, as he reaches a hand out to pick up Envy’s wine glass and extend it to him, he decides that certainly, his beautiful bride will have to take the offer. Kimblee is not a man of grace neither is he a man of hope, but tonight he is both, and he is sanguinely optimistic about his chances.

“Would you like something to drink?” Kimblee asks, bending slightly as he extends his arm out all the way so he is able to meet Envy on the other side of the coffee table. Envy looks down at the glass and, and to Kimblee’s wild delight, he eyes him with caution, suspicion even. However, he also eyes it with apt consideration.

“What’s in it?” he asks, his definite suspicion taking hold first and foremost, which Kimblee does not mind in the least. He’s more than gleeful to tell Envy what he’ll be serving him, there is after all, nothing alive that could possibly be more deserving of servitude in his eyes.

“Wine, my darling. Sweet like red raspberries, I thought you would appreciate the taste. I’ve tried a little myself. Would you like to as well?”

Envy’s gaze veers back up to Kimblee. He purses his lips in thought, for one second, two seconds, three-

“Take a sip from my glass,” he says, and Kimblee fucking grins like the maniacal bastard that he is. He can’t help it, and its far too late to hide it now. He laughs just a little at the order. Fine, then.

“Anything to please you, my dearest Envy,” Kimblee responds, and pulls the glass back to himself so he can take just a sip of the sweet red fluid. He keeps his eyes on his Envy as he raises it to his lips, keeps his eyes on him as he tilts his head back just a little in show, bares his neck for Envy, he knows the homunculus could extend his arm out into a blade and slice him quick and easily across the throat if it so desires but he’s not and it has to count for something. Kimblee keeps his eyes on his most beloved Envy as he takes a sip of wine per request, it is arguable how much wisdom his homunculus has gained from the near 400 years since its conception but it is undoubtedly an intelligent little creature and Kimblee is well aware that he wasn’t going to let him slide on him so easily. It is nothing if not appreciated, Kimblee after all does love a challenge.

He takes the glass away from his lips and extends it to his Envy again. Envy looks at him with a slight bit of bewilderment, but his face is languidly beginning to settle as he realizes that Kimblee is more than alright.

"See?” Kimblee licks his lips of any leftover wine residue, doesn’t take his eyes off his Envy though he knows his face has reddened a little. “Its perfectly lovely. May I offer you some?”

Envy continues to simply look at him in response. Keeps looking, keeps looking, he’s still looking-

“Your face is as red as what you offer,” Envy tells him, his first sentence is a statement. His second sentence is a question, and it is a whispered one at that. Do I really engage you so much, Kimblee?”

Kimblee can feel his gaze shine on his most darling homunculus. Oh, yes. He is exactly where he needs to be for tonight.

“Aren’t you something,” Kimblee says in earnest, he smirks a little but his mouth is open and he’s thinking of what to say next but in this moment he could argue with himself that there’s nothing better to say than the truth. “Yes, my darling. Yes, you most certainly do.”

"Oh,”  Envy replies, in just as much if not more ardent earnest, and he’s smiling just a little again and it lasts on his face, it seems more directed at the homunculus himself than at Kimblee but it’s not like he gives a damn about such irrelevance, not when he notices that this time that smile has not faded but is instead growing a little wider. Just a little, but oh if it isn’t more than enough for Kimblee. “Well in that case, I would like some wine,” he decides, taking his glass from Kimblee’s hand. He moves it to his lips, holds it there as they part for intake, and then he tilts his head back slightly and its not for show but that doesn’t mean Kimblee isn’t thoroughly entertained. He takes a sip, Kimblee can picture how it wets his tongue, and then he’s imagining that ruby red fluid sliding down his throat as he starts to drink from the glass Kimblee has given him. And oh, isn’t that just a delightful fucking sight?

Sure is.

So surely is.

“Mmn.” Envy hums, clicking his tongue at the taste. He flicks it off the roof of his mouth and parts his lips again, licking them promptly of wine residue. Kimblee is still smiling a little at him, amused as ever by the unintentionally but ever-seductive actions of his soon-to-be wife. “Good,” he says, smacking his lips together as he takes another sip from the glass, Kimblee sees his tongue extend out of his mouth into the expanse of wine, he slurps it from the glass and calmly blinks at Kimblee. “Mmmn,” he hums again, this time for a little longer and it’s a truly sultry sound, that sharply androgynous voice is surprisingly smooth, velvety smooth and sweet and so, so decadently erotic that Kimblee can feel a hot, hot pulse pump through his groin in an utmost fiery pique.

Tonight may be the first night Solf J. Kimblee has prayed to a god he doesn’t believe in. He prays on this night, for grace.

“What does it taste like?” Kimblee asks, his lip twitching a little as he does. Envy looks down at his glass for a second before veering his gaze back up to him, his eyes having slightly lidded.

“Tastes like red raspberries,” says Envy, looking at Kimblee yet again with something that is indiscernible. With enough time and enough alcohol in its fragile little system, Kimblee knows that look will change in soon enough due time into something Kimblee has been dying to see directed at him for 14 years. He’s smiling again at the thought, or maybe he’s never stopped, and then he's grinning.

“Excellent, darling.” Oh, excellent indeed.

He watches as Envy takes yet another sip of the wine, he’s drinking from his glass now in utterly beautiful zeal, beautiful zeal gracing the face of his even more beautiful bride. And tonight, he will consummate their marriage, sanctify their vows of forever and ever, and he will bed his bodacious little homunculus and fuck him until that artificial brain goes dumb and he’s bled that ruby red fluid of philosopher’s stone out his pretty prick so excessively that he loses himself and loses his mind.

Kimblee picks up his own glass and eyes the couch, looking at the empty spot on the left side of his Envy. He observes it for a second, seeing if his homunculus receives his intention through his gaze, but he doesn’t because his Envy has never been a mind reader, he needs his communication direct and precise just as he gives, and oh if Kimblee doesn’t adore that about his salient little darling. He’s a sensitive thing but he always says what he feels when he feels it, aims at his target of words and never misses, and Kimblee did say he loved a good challenge, didn’t he?

Solf J. Kimblee, also hits his targets with sharp salience and utter precision. And when he aims, he never misses.

Kimblee thoughtfully lifts his gaze back up to the homunculus that is seated in front of him. He surely, does not intend to start now.

“Would you mind if I sit next to you?” Kimblee asks, and its polite, chivalrous even, but he knows he can do better and he will. “It would be an utmost privilege to be at your side.” Kimblee pauses for a less than a second before adding two more words to finish off his sentence. “My goddess.”

“I-” Envy’s speech is lost in a soft gasp as he turns his head slightly to look at the empty space of cushion beside him. He smiles, and Kimblee still can’t tell if its directed inwards or outwards, he doesn’t care because he’s currently watching his darling Envy scooching over to the right of the couch and leaving him an open spot.

If there’s one thing that Solf J. Kimblee is, he is indeed a man who will take an opportunity when it is granted to him. He walks on over to where Envy has left him his own available space on Dante’s antique couch and claims it. He might have to fuck Envy on this couch before he christens the wench’s bed, is what he says and having such words uttered inside his own head doesn’t make the proposition he’s given himself any less tempting.

“Thank you,” is a sentence that Kimblee rarely ever utters, even less so does he utter it and mean it. But as embracing the love for his sin has changed much about who Kimblee is within the past 14 years, this is simply one of those changes, his Envy has made him by far a more humble, more gracious man, though both traits he’s developed over that span of time are only built to serve one, and the one he’s so eager to serve is sat right next to him, so close that he can hear the beating of pulsing philosopher’s stone inside that little chest cavity, so close that he can almost feel it in his own. So very close, that as Envy takes a another drink from his glass, that Kimblee can sense with the beating of his own human heart how his Envy’s is beginning to pump faster.

He picks his own up and takes an ungraceful swig, grace after all has never really been one of Kimblee’s strong suits as he'll openly admit, Kimblee is many things but for better or worse he is not a liar. But he’s not worried about it, doesn’t even stress it, he’s normally more conscious of himself around his Envy but he’s simply just catching up to him. He knows that within the near four centuries Envy’s been alive that he’s always been a lightweight, as Greed had told him whenever he had so amusedly asked about it.

Greed.

Kimblee takes another swig of wine so quickly that he practically gulps it down. He, on the other hand, is not a lightweight, and it will take some time for him for the buzz of intoxication to hit him. It is fine though, its okay with Kimblee. He will simply spend this time conversing with his darling and enjoying the time spent with him until it is time to focus on what inevitably lays beyond such conversation. And if there’s one thing Solf J. Kimblee is better at than anyone he’s ever known, it is truly the art of biding his time.

The insatiable urge Kimblee feels as he can sense the pulse of the stone pumping with increased speed, wrought tension in that little chest… Kimblee may not have to bide his time much longer. With the buzz he’s beginning to feel situate in his own chest, the heated blood he feels circulating through his veins… he’s not sure if he can.

Kimblee realizes he’s still hard as a fucking rock, harder than that insatiably powerful stone inside his darling’s lithe, petite and perfect form. That stone, he could rip it out through his sweetest sin’s little throat, he could, but he must utterly decline that proposition because his most flawlessly forged little philosopher’s stone is so much prettier in the current form it holds now, the form sitting right here beside him, its all his now, and there really is not a single imperfection to be found in this immaculate beauty that is seated mere inches away from him now. He also realizes, that those inches are closing in on him.

Solf J. Kimblee, is so very close to everything he’s ever wanted.

“Kimblee,” Envy sounds unsure of himself as he whispers Kimblee’s name, he’s got a hand on his stomach, a pale, delicate hand, so fragile and so utterly beautiful with the way its skeletal structure is so visible, those long, thin fingers clench that artificial little gut and Kimblee finds himself reaching out for it without a second thought. “I-”

“What’s the matter, my darling?” Kimblee practically purrs the sentence out at his Envy, he’s starting to feel a slight buzz from intoxication himself but he knows Envy’s must be double, maybe even triple-fold what his own is, he hears him make a little sound like a soft grunt in the back of his throat as he shifts his position on the couch, inching closer to Kimblee.

Kimblee grasps his hand, softly and even gentle, if his dearest Envy would like to pull away now is the time. But he doesn’t.

“Kimblee,” Envy’s voice starts to shake as he utters out Kimblee’s name, a little louder this time, and Kimblee’s grasp on his hand is still light. “What did you put in that drink?” Envy asks, clanking his almost empty wine glass down on the table with a trembling hand. Kimblee simply shushes him, though his hand holds Envy’s a little firmer now.

“Nothing that could do you any harm,” Kimblee says, only halfway surprised at this point that he’s somewhat telling the truth. “I think you’ll find its quite the opposite, really,” he adds, controlling the urge he has to grin at his Envy. He manages, challenging as it is, his lip is still twitching as he ponders the thought. He rests their clasped hands on the homunculus’ lap, brushes them against the satiny green of his Envy’s silk nightgown, and realizes he feels something hard beneath them.

Kimblee fails his challenge. He’s grinning with all and absolute lack of inhibition, like the absolute madman he is, and with that he grasps hold of his Envy’s frail little hand, grasps it tight with his own and he squeezes it. And his Envy, oh if his Envy doesn’t gasp at the motion, and oh if it doesn’t send a shearing wave of heat surging through Kimblee’s entire body quicker than the speed of light. Faster than the speed of light and hotter than the surface of the sun.

And what a delightfully ecstatic realization it is, that the ecstasy must be starting to kick in for them both.

“And I do believe, that you may even come to enjoy this feeling,” Kimblee’s grin has settled , he wets his lips with his tongue, slowly but steadily, and whispers his question in response. “Tell me, my darling. How do you feel?”

Envy’s hand is shaking in his own. Kimblee squeezes it, squeezes it tight until he feels it relax, before he loosens his grip. However, he does not let go.

“Kimblee,” Envy’s voice wavers, its lost all its sharp edge and has morphed into something soft, definitely unsure, though Kimblee’s sure the second half of that equation will be changing in no time at this rate. He’s caressing the back of Envy’s hand with his thumb, coaxing him to the best of his ability, Kimblee’s never been a particularly persuasive man but he makes do with what he can, what he has and what he is, and after 14 years it seems that such making do is finally about to pay off in his favor. Despite the opportunity laid out in front of him for the sweetest, most decadent gratification he could ever get to know for himself, he can afford a little more patience, he decides. Taking what he wants now is something Kimblee is sure would gratify him, but waiting until his darling wants him and then indulging in such decadence for them both would undoubtedly satisfy him to no end.

“Yes, Envy?”

“I feel-” Envy chokes on his breath, that artificial windpipe of his must be clogged with what’s left of his inhibitions, Kimblee assumes, he gives Envy’s hand another squeeze to assure him of just how much he no longer needs such inhibitions, they’re as mute as his Envy is right now, but then he hears that stuck breath push its way out through his darling homunculus’ little throat, hears him gasp again, a softer, lighter thing than before, and Kimblee can tell he is about to finish his answer. “Needy.”

Kimblee’s laugh rings out into the air. It is not malicious, but rather, simply amused. Oh, how he really does covet this arduously repressed little creature. What an adorable thing it is, and god itself be damned if Kimblee doesn’t absolutely adore him to pieces. Lusty, bloody pieces, how he viscerally cherishes each and every one of his most precious Envy.

“Needy?” Kimblee inquires, still smiling a bit, it grows just a little wider as he strokes Envy’s hand with the pad of his thumb, he’s pressing firmer now and applies more pressure to the lilywhite skin beneath it. “You’ll have to be more specific than that, my darling.”

Kimblee feels his Envy freeze in his position on the sofa, though he does realize that he can he can feel one of the homunculus’ thighs clenched against his own, Kimblee’s dreamed of those thighs for 14 years now and the night has come that he finally gets to feel them for himself. He really would benefit from getting these tight slacks off, they’re starting to constrict him and he’d love nothing more than to feel those toned tantalizing thighs tensed up against his bare skin, they’re surprisingly stout and thick for such a tiny creature, they might be Kimblee’s favorite thing about him next to his face, pouty pink lips, proudly defined nose, high yet full cheeks and those exotic violet eyes that are endlessly capable of every expression under the sun, every one there is except for one. Apathy, and Kimblee knows this because he’s never seen it in those eyes, Greed has told him that it’s the one thing his Envy truly is incapable of feeling, that he’s never displayed it as long as they had known each other, and as Kimblee listens to the pace of his darling’s breathing and the haste starting to build in each breath, he takes his free hand and places it under the homunculus’ chin, turning his head up so their eyes meet. Somehow, Kimblee is deathly aware of the humanity in both their gazes in this moment, and there is no other way he can describe it as such awareness may truly prove to be lethal.

With that, Kimblee does the one thing he’s always known how to do, its pure instinct with even impurer intention.

He goes in for the kill.

“Please, do tell me, my Envy.” His Envy, his Envy, his Envy. “What do you need?”

Envy lets out a shaky breath through his mouth, Kimblee can tell he’s parsing thoughts through that brilliant little mind of his. Despite what one may think of Solf J. Kimblee and his preferences he must admit he’s always loved the idea of wedding someone smarter than himself. He’s heard Greed throw insults at Envy about his intelligence while they were sparring words at the Devil’s Nest and tell him later those nights that it was all projection, that Envy was the cleverest, most cunning, most beautiful creature he knew and that he had no way to compare to him as no one possibly could, and oh how right the greedy bastard most truly was. All the stories about how Envy would talk to him about what he thought of life, what he hoped to make of the life that he would never have, all his dreams and hopes and ambitions that died alongside his human body, and sometimes he’d still hear him talk about them, on rare occasion but when he did he could never forget.

He remembers distinctly, that Envy had talked to Greed about his desire to study alkahestry. An art of the Xingese, the people that piss poor excuse of a father committed mass genocide on to bring the son back that he let die only to abandon him like he was nothing, Kimblee feels himself grasp Envy’s hand a little too tight all of a sudden and immediately loosens his grip, he feels something strange wash over him as he remembers a piece of conversation held between Greed and Envy one night, he had still been awake well past the rising of the moon as he usually is, the stars had glittered in the sky that night in the sereneness of their surroundings, and it was one of the few nights Kimblee could recall feeling eerie in his lifetime as he stood on the pavement and listened to the homunculi converse in the grass.

“Isn’t it ironic Greed, that something who once desired to heal the world wants nothing more now than to watch it die?”

“Is that something here with us now?”

Kimblee takes a look over at Envy’s glass of wine, still filled with just a little of the ruby red fluid left. Ruby red and sparkling bright, like…

“You know it is. And you know that what I say is true.”

“I don’t know, Envy. And you know what?”

Kimblee could tell by his tone of voice that Envy was already down, however he could never forget how that face fell that night.

“What?”

He had whispered the word, a question of assurance, reassurance even, but Kimblee knew that whatever it was he already knew.

“I don’t think you do, either.”

Greed had whispered back to him, and Kimblee would always remember the way Envy’s breathing shuddered. Like its doing now.

Tonight has also managed to gather an eeriness to it. The air is still in the room they’re in, and all Kimblee can hear is the soft shudder of his homunculus’ breathing. He is not sure what to do admittedly, and in his best attempt to calm the homunculus, he shushes him softly. Kimblee is not a soft man, but he is an unpredictable man, and tonight he is so much one that he really can’t even predict himself.

“It is alright, my darling. Would you like me to hand you your glass so you can finish? Perhaps it would ease your nerves a little.”

He watches as his Envy continues to breathe, exhales getting caught in his throat and croaking out through his mouth. Poor thing, Kimblee feels something tug at the heart he was sure served no purpose other than to pump blood until now, he feels something he can’t place his finger on so he will not try. But he will do whatever Envy desires of him tonight, whatever he wants, because his wish is Kimblee’s law and the few laws that Kimblee abides by are ones that he honors down to the very written code.

“I beg to serve you, my goddess. If there is anything you would like me to give you tonight, please, let me know.”

With that, he hears Envy’s breathing relax, he doesn’t grin, doesn’t even smile at all, but his hand clutches Envy’s just a little tighter for just a moment, and he can hear the soft click of Envy’s tongue as it flicks off the roof of his mouth, and those lips are parting for him in the premonition of speech.

“May you hand me my glass…” Envy’s words trail off, like he’s not quite done with the utterance of his question, but then he adds a word, a single word, one, and Kimblee will never forget how soft and tender his voice sounds as he says it. “Kimblee?”

“Yes, my darling, I will,” he responds, equally soft and tender, and he extends an arm so he can pick up his Envy’s glass to hand it to him. He clutches it by the cup and does so promptly, hands him it just as requested, as he does indeed beg to serve, there is no one more worthy and there never could be, especially in the glassy amber eyes of Solf J. Kimblee. He is aware that they have glassed over, and looks away from Envy as he takes his glass by the stem, Kimblee blinks, nothing comes out thankfully and he returns his gaze to the goddess sat beside him. He watches as he tilts his head back, accepted offering grasped in his hand, and he drinks until there’s nothing left.

It is as if Envy has somehow read his mind, and Kimblee somehow recognizes now what it is that he feels. He feels his own solemn, he feels his Envy’s somber, and he can feel them both entangled in the enmeshment of their combined sorrow. He could do with another drink, perhaps, maybe they both could, as Kimblee can sense that somehow they have both sobered up way too much for comfort and far too much for joy on what he has intended to be a most glorious night. Kimblee’s intentions are still true and genuine as ever though and he still intends on sharing all his glory with his most beloved Envy, so he will simply have to adapt, but it is fine. After all, there is no one who can adapt to a circumstance or surroundings better than Kimblee, and tonight’s situation that has unwittingly presented itself before him and his bride shall be no different. From now on, it is Kimblee as a man, and Envy by his side forever. But in what is undoubtedly the near future, so near that it bleeds into the present, so close that Kimblee can feel it, so very close that he can almost taste it, he is a man that is sitting with his bride, he is sat beside the wife of his dreams. The one he was always meant to have, meant to wed, meant to consummate every bit of sweet emotion and tangy sex with, he is sitting beside the one he now has, his own future wife. Tonight will be the first night lived of Solf J. Kimblee’s life where he falls asleep in bed and wakes up next to his wife.

His beautiful wife.

“Would you mind fetching me some more to drink?” asks Envy, pulling Kimblee out of his train of thought. He finds himself smiling, nothing particularly remarkable but noticeable all the same, as his Envy seems to be aware of the expression gracing his face. Maybe his darling truly is a mind reader.

“Surely wouldn’t,” says Kimblee in response, the ecstasy’s definitely started to kick in for him at this point but if his Envy desires a task to be done than by all means Kimblee will complete it. He can still feel that raging hard on nestled underneath the green satiny silk of his darling’s pulchritudinous nightgown, he’s sure Envy has to know its there though the fact he isn’t trying to shift it away has to mean something and Kimblee will take it as positive. That proper little erection standing so precise and firm is something that at best reminds Kimblee direly of his own desires, he finds himself a little hesitant to let go of Envy’s hand, but then he thinks of how the wine sparkled in their glasses, crystalline ruby red fluid, a precious essence and tasted so good, just like the juices of his most precious philosopher’s stone surely will, and Kimblee has decided that even the sheer temptation is enough for him to finally let go of that frail, pale hand grasped within the nurturing palm of his own, he does so promptly, and as he does he notices how relaxed that hand has become, he smiles a little again just for a second or so at the realization. His delicate little flower is slowly relaxing his petals, surely enough beginning to open them, and if Kimblee works hard enough with the gentle touch he’s been learning to apply tonight he might just get to see the core of that flower finally exposed to him. Bees are the pollinators and Kimblee is nothing if not a wasp, but he still has every intention of fertilizing his most ambrosial flower and stinging every bit of his essence into him to grow and spread throughout his being. But for now, he has a task at hand, and Kimblee would sooner slice his own throat then to deny Envy his wish. He gets up from the couch and begins to head back towards the dining room doors, they’re still pushed open from earlier and he’s able to walk right through them. As he ambulates past the dining room table, he realizes that he forgot to take Envy’s glass with him, and mentally slaps himself across the face for it. He reels for a moment, then supposes, as he makes his way into the kitchen, that he can simply bring the bottle back to the living room for them both, as Kimblee wouldn’t mind something more to drink for himself either. He could stand another glass, he thinks, surely could, therefore surely will, as Kimblee has never been a man to deny himself what he wants. Some may even call him—

Kimblee is glad he didn’t carry Envy’s glass in his hand now. He would have surely dropped it to the ground and been able to do nothing but listen as it shattered into a thousand broken pieces at his feet. For what reason, he cannot say, not because he doesn’t know but because he doesn’t want to. Besides, if his Envy really does have any capability of reading his most private thoughts, it is best he does not explore such ones for the sake of them both on this fine night, surely.

Surely indeed.

Solf J. Kimblee reckons that he could definitely stand another glass of wine.

He’s back in the kitchen now, he’s just stepped through the doorway and already he’s thinking about the bottle of wine he sees sat on the tabletop in front of him, he steps closer and closer and doesn’t stop until he’s there. He wobbles a bit, nothing too noticeable, not to mention that no one else is in the room with him so it really is a mute point in itself, but Kimblee’s definitely not anywhere near as drunk as he needs would like to be for tonight and considering he can still stand upright without faltering he thinks its about high time that change, Kimblee’s always enjoyed getting drunk himself and he’s sure the mood of his most delicate flower will bloom in time with exposure to the same intoxication. That pulchritudinous body shall surely begin to, is surely already starting to blossom for him whether it is of his delicious Envy’s own will or not, though Kimblee knows for certain that picking apart each petal and tasting such ambrosia for himself that lies inside will be so much more fun for them both if his sweetest little flower is enjoying himself to his fullest. Oh, he hopes the sin will revel in himself as he is salaciously ravaged by such a sinner who revels in him with the same intensity, there could be nothing who deserves to feel it more than the embodiment of the original sin itself in all his artificial yet sincerely hot flesh.

In other words, Kimblee is more than willing to continue playing the long game until his Envy is willing to end it for them both. The losers are already far past them left in the dust, and now there remain two who can win, and Kimblee intends every bit to share his victory and give all the rewards that come with it to his most sanct of sins, and all he asks for in return is that such a divine sin share with him his own deviance and allow Kimblee to embrace it as his own. Even if forced to live out the life of their marriage under the damnation of that wicked witch of a mother’s rotten hand, together, they will be damned, and together, they will be beautiful.

Kimblee reaches out for the bottle of wine and grabs it by the neck, he gets a thought in his head as he observes how the delicious ruby red fluid shakes inside, it wouldn’t be considered a pretty thought to most but to Kimblee it is most beauteous, though some secrets are meant to be kept and as he lifts the bottle he decides that this secret will just have to be one of them. Still, its not like there’s anyone in the room to judge Kimblee’s sins right now, and that means there’s no one to reprimand him for thinking about all that sweet, succulent juice inside his most precious Envy’s little body pumping through his artificial veins as Kimblee’s hand is around his throat. Would it swash and bubble like its doing right now? Oh, how the temptation kills him.

Kimblee realizes he is shaking the bottle in his hand, and aptly places a hand under it to still and secure it. His darling had asked him so politely for more wine, and Kimblee wouldn’t be able to forgive his own careless mishap if he had dropped and spilled it. He notices that there is a little wine splashed on his hand from him moving the bottle in such a manner, and sets it back down on the table for just a moment so he can lick his hand of what he’s spilled. Still tastes like red raspberries, he thinks to himself. He licks his lips, slowly to savor the taste of what remains on them. Tastes damn good.

Picking the bottle back up as soon as his wetted tongue has flickered back into the dry cavern of his mouth, Kimblee grasps the bottle of wine that is standing in front of him by its stem, it’s a firm, but much gentler grasp. He gingerly lifts the bottle and places a tender hand underneath it to steady and secure it, looks at the refrigerator door for no real reason, and turns on his heel to face the kitchen doorway. There is also no real reason why he stands there for more than a second or two, and there is certainly no good reason, because his Envy is waiting on him, waiting for him, he waits for Kimblee’s return and Kimblee is not a refined appreciator of poetic justice the same as his Envy so very much is and with no Envy in the room right now to even try to sway him towards such appreciation, well… Kimblee is stuck alone with his own thoughts, and his are far less fine and beautiful than what that of his most coveted little creature’s are, and it rings out ever so true in the air around him that he was unabashedly right about one thing.

Anyone that stays in a room too long with Kimblee alone will be driven insane without a doubt.

Two things, actually, with the second one ringing even more true, in Kimblee’s head, outside of it, its everywhere and its everything that he knows.

Kimblee is not immune to his own touch of insanity.

He begins to walk, he’s stepping towards the doorway with haste now, and he will not stop. He’s moving fast, and he will not stop moving until he reaches his Envy. Kimblee will not rest until his Envy’s every wish is fulfilled.

He's past the doorway, in the dining room now, he can hear the buzzing of his precious stone in the next room now, he can feel it as he’s just steps away from it now. It overwhelms him a little, is beginning to leave him overwrought, but as he steps through the open doors that connect the room where his Envy sits to where he just was, he’s with his Envy now, he can tell by the way that peek of olive green is laid up against the back of the couch that his precious little stone has been growing ever impatient, he’s shifting in his position and Kimblee suddenly sees that hair splay flat, like his darling has just tilted his head back, and he hears a sigh. He realizes, that despite the haste in his own footsteps and surely the sound he’s made walking through back to where he now stands, that his darling is not aware that he is standing behind the couch. He hears his Envy stifle a sound and release what seems to be an aggravated huff of air through his nostrils. Was not aware, anyways.

“What are you doing over there, my darling?” Kimblee asks, utterly amused at the prospect as he’s already gained some idea of what was being done. He’s smiling wide, it turns into a wider grin, there’s even something diabolical to it though it is not from pondering any plans but simply relaying thoughts. One thought.

“Nothing.”

It’s the way he says it that confirms it to Kimblee, he doesn’t even have to look for himself to know. But it surely won’t stop him from doing so regardless. He’s not even faced with it, not yet, but Kimblee still can’t help but revel in the delightfully sinful scene he’s just walked in on.

“Alright then,” Kimblee responds, trying his best to pertain a nonchalance to his tone, but the excitement contained underneath makes itself apparent whether Kimblee likes it or not. He can’t hide it when it comes to his darling, that sinfully beautiful thing drives his mind and his sex and his heart and it never stops. Hasn’t stopped for 14 years now, and still seems hell-bent on steering the wheel to Kimblee’s being until he truly does lose his mind. At this point, he’s already over halfway there, and all he wants now is to make sure that they lose them together. Yet somehow, Kimblee feels more composed than ever in this moment, as sane as an insane man like him can get, and maybe that really is the final deathblow to the remainder of his sanity, it’s hanging by a thread now and Kimblee knows he’s just contradicted himself but he doesn’t care, he steps on over to the coffee table, makes his way around the bend of the couch, he’s not looking at his Envy because he doesn’t want to cut that thread just yet. He still has to set down their bottle of wine, and he does so promptly, purposefully avoiding Envy with his eyes to keep that thread hanging ever so thinly, he knows his Envy is watching him. He pushes the bottle ever so carefully up on the center of the table, still and secure so there’s no risk of either of them spilling it, and he finally cuts that thread and looks up at the sin sat in front of him.

“There you go,” he says, he can’t discern the look in his own eyes and certainly won’t make an attempt to because the sight he sees in front of him is far more worthy of his attention. And what a sight it is.

What an utterly luscious, impeccably delicious sight it is. Kimblee could lose himself in the lush of its decadence. He won’t though, not yet, he’s still got the last severed thread of his sanity clasped between his fingers. For now, he’ll hold onto it with everything he has.

He can’t let it go just yet. He just has to wait a little longer. He’s really not sure if he can now, he’s not, but for his darling, for his Envy, he will.

“Would you like me to refill your glass, my goddess?” Kimblee asks, and there is no thought behind the words but only absolute intention. He does not think about calling Envy his goddess, there is no thinking to be done. There is only knowing, and knowing that his Envy most certainly is. The maiden, the mother, and the whore, they are all sat in front of him ready for Kimblee’s devotion, waiting for his worship, and they are all his. All his, and Kimblee shall stay a devoted man and worship his goddess until he knows that her devotee’s love is held under no bounds and no restraint. Kimblee could never hope to bind himself to any when his unholy goddess is displayed in the forefront of his vision so admirably sinful. He’s so fucking beautiful that nothing else could ever hold such a beauty in Kimblee’s eyes ever again. Not the taste of blood, not the touch of viscera, not the sight of gore. Nothing.

The only scream Kimblee wants to hear now is one rapturing from those pale pink, softly parted lips. And he wants it to be of complete and uttermost, searing visceral pleasure and absolutely nothing else.

Kimblee wants to make Envy lose his mind so radically that he forgets he ever had one in the first place.

“Yes, please,” says Envy in response, and Kimblee’s heart flutters at the show of manners, and that’s two things confirmed that he didn’t know were possible. He's used to seeing Envy loud, brash, and volatile, its his utter element and Kimblee adores it about the little bitch, covets and cherishes all that sweet and savory bitchiness in his Envy, always has since he knew it was there and always would. But now, his Envy is soft for him, he’s palatable and demure, even, so sweet and tender in how he sits, how he talks, how he looks. How he looks, and it is nothing but a blessing to Kimblee that he gets to see such vision displayed in front of his very own eyes. And it truly is poetic justice, how the first thing Kimblee observes in such a vision are the blown out violent violet eyes of his most darling Envy, the way his irises surround his jetted ink black pupils in the thinnest of rings. He knows homunculi are incapable of sweating even in the most heated of moments, but he swears he can see the skin lining his brow glistening with something, it may very well be artificial sweat or it could be Kimblee getting his hopes up, but he’s let too much of his sanity slip between the meager grasps of his fingertips to care. Speaking of those brows, they’re a dark olive green, darker than his hair and so much so they’re nearly black, and the artificial muscle has loosened behind them but Kimblee can still wager that they’re slightly furrowed, can see the lines in front of each one that mark that stark pale face and give him a peek into what’s going on inside that marvelously pretty head of his hot little homunculus.

Kimblee can feel the heat radiating off him, it circulates all throughout the air, and he’s so enamored by the feeling that he’s barely aware he’s used the wrong word to describe such an intense heat. If anything, the circulation Kimblee feels is his own thoughts spinning rapidly in circles, they circle round and round but in the end always make the 360 back to the object of his focus, the thing he’s been waiting for, the thing that tonight he will no longer have to wait for, his precious, most beautiful, most coveted thing who will ever so soon now become his wife, Kimblee’s eyes lower back down to Envy’s, just a little below them actually, eye contact seems to be a thing his Envy is not so comforted by in the moment which makes Kimblee feel a little down but its only temporary, he knows. He’ll have all night long to stare into the expanse of those sensitive, emotional eyes, all night long to gaze at that sublimely gorgeous face, that defined nose, those radiantly high cheekbones, that smooth yet sharp jawline that is raised for him, his Envy is looking right at him now and Kimblee wants to look back, he does but he is much too enamored now by the sight of his Envy’s wide mouth, the lips that encase it are fuller than they appear when he’s smiling that fetchingly cruel smile of his, the smile of a wicked and ruthlessly cutthroat fiend, and now that’s a good word to describe what Kimblee feels right now in this moment. He fiends for the heated stone that is sat only footsteps away from him, fiends for the sin to end all sins that is so close to becoming his own, Kimblee fiends for his Envy, his Envy, he’ll do anything to please his Envy. Anything under the moon, anything under the stars, anything under the very sun, because the light of that face glowing for him in pleasure is all Kimblee could ever need.

“Hello?” he hears his darling ask, and Kimblee realizes he’s completely lost track of everything going on in the moment, including his task at hand. His next piece of speech only surprises him a little, it starts as a word, a single word, one Kimblee has never uttered within the near 40 years he’s been alive or at least can’t remember, but there is a first for everything Kimblee supposes and now is the time that he has just met his.

“Sorry,” he says, and he laughs but its not cruel, not mocking, its simply genuine and it’s the realest laugh Kimblee thinks he’s ever emitted. He lets out another one, a little more ironic but not sardonic at the thought, however it is still nothing if not real because he finds himself still so delighted by the confusion in his Envy’s eyes, he truly doesn’t know why he’s laughing, Kimblee’s laughing now at the absurdity of all of this, his own stupidity, how utterly stupid he becomes just looking at his Envy, he never thought this could happen to him and now it has and its just so- “I am simply delighted to finally be able to serve someone so deserving. Have I told you yet that you look absolutely ravishing tonight, my darling?” he asks, and its as real and genuine as ever a question, it is heartfelt and the statement supporting it is nothing but meant, because Kimblee can’t think of anything he’s ever said and meant more than what’s just come out of his mouth. “Please, let me get you some wine,” he says, taking Envy’s glass in his hand and lifting it off the table before doing the same with the bottle and tilting it by the neck. He aims it for the bottom of the glass and begins to pour, not too slowly neither with too much haste, and he watches as his Envy watches like he is so utterly perplexed yet enraptured by Kimblee himself, and as Kimblee finishes topping off his glass and extends it out to him to take he blinks his eyes at him, slow and steady, and says with pleasure evident in his own voice, “Here you go, my darling.”

His Envy takes the glass, and Kimblee grins. It is far from malicious, something undeniably unnatural for a man like Kimblee to display so fervently, he’s not sure he’s ever held an expression quite like this on his face before but there truly is a first time for everything and Kimblee is nothing but honored that the first time such an enthused grin on his face is because of someone so worthy and dear to him, someone he’s wanted to serve for 14 years and now finally gets to, and he finally gets to see that worthy someone grinning back at him. Its thin, but Kimblee can see it clearer than ever, how such a wide, dazzling grin is being flashed at him, those sharp teeth that poke out a little under from under the edges of his stretched top lip are practically coruscating within the glimmer of low lamplight within the room, the bulb’s probably going to go out soon Kimblee realizes but for now it creates a scene so perfect that Kimblee’s not sure if its real, but the star of that scene shines so bright in front of him that he can feel the rise of heat crawling out from his core, he’s still looking at Envy from where he stands even though the glass is already in his darling’s hand and he’s so glad he is, because the next thing he sees as his Envy lifts the glass to his lips and drinks is the sight of those gorgeously toned legs spreading for him. The muscles in them have pulled taut, and Kimblee realizes this as he suddenly sees them relax in place, and the sheer thought of it makes Kimblee realize he’s still achingly hard because he almost just came in his slacks. He feels himself throb under the tightness of constricting fabric, he still might, and he makes the probably wise decision to finally avert his eyes. He looks down at the table at his own empty glass, and now would be a perfect time for another drink, and an even more perfect distraction from how much he wants to savagely fuck the sin that’s seated in front of him, the thought makes heat pool in Kimblee’s face and he’s definitely glad he’s looking down now hence Envy see him blushing so madly at the prospect. There is no man madder than Kimblee, and there is nobody who could drive him into such a voracious state of madness in the way that the one seated in front of him has managed to do with such searing velocity.

Solf J. Kimblee is absolutely astonished at the realization that someone could hold such power over him. He doesn’t think anything could shock him so pleasantly any more, and he knows that no one could enrapture him the way this creature has. His coveted creature, his cherished Envy, and he’s not considering what he's parsing through his head but rather he’s feeling it as he thinks he could love him forever.

He feels his heart beating in his chest as he grabs his own glass and begins to pour wine into it. He splashes it a little, not too much, he certainly doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself now of all times and he finishes pouring, sets the bottle back down on the table, and lifts his glass to his lips to take a sip. What he hears his Envy say next nearly makes him spit out his drink.

“You can sit down by me, if you’d like. I’m not going to bite you.”

Fine, Kimblee does spit out his drink. Its not classy, its far from couth, but he’s so taken aback that there really is no other reaction for him to hold than what he’s just released. He looks up at Envy, trying to decipher his mood to the best of his ability, Kimblee’s never been good at reading people and he’s never needed to be until now, but now he sees those violet eyes gazing back at him and there’s no violence in them, they aren’t friendly either by any means but they simply gaze at him with thought, and while Kimblee’s observing it he senses some amusement in them as well, its something he takes note of as he speaks because it is a look on his darling’s face that he’s enjoying very much.

“Alright then,” he says, slowly beginning to ambulate over to the sofa where his Envy is sitting, waiting for him, and it’s a delicious feeling that Kimblee truly finds himself craving more and more of. He was the one who waited, and now, he is the waited for. But he could never make his darling chase him the way he has him for so long, in all actuality Kimblee’s more than shocked he’s made it this far without jumping the little beauty and pinning him to the couch cushions, pulling that dress up by the cream lace of its hem and – he didn’t know he was looking down at his Envy’s feet until he watches those toes curl, like his Envy knows exactly what he’s thinking, and Kimblee blushes madder than he is as he bumps into the fucking coffee table. Thankfully, more so than ever, only a little bit of wine spills from his glass onto the rug below their feet, it’s a solid black and the stain won’t show anyways, good. He hears his Envy laugh a little, it’s almost a giggle, and while Kimblee’s face is still heated aflame he can’t help but feel a hotter one burn in his heart. What a delightful sound.

Kimblee was going to say something, but he forgets what it was. He does, however, say something else, something new and something true, something he means and something that is utterly real to him.

“The sound of your laughter is the most pleasing thing I’ve ever heard grace my ear. You should do it more often.”

“I don’t often have a reason,” he hears his Envy say in response as he sits back down beside him. Kimblee considers leaning back on the couch, but he knows his Envy is still looking at him and for some reason the thought of relaxing his posture makes Kimblee feel self-conscious. So he doesn’t, but he does find himself extending an arm out against the back of the couch, he’s careful not to touch his Envy’s shoulders though, caution is not something Kimblee has ever known until tonight, but his darling seems to be exposing him to all kinds of new feelings on this night and now, it is. He says something else, something thoughtful, Kimblee is not a thoughtful man unless he is scheming, but tonight is different, tonight he’s a different man, because tonight, he is.

“I will simply have to find a way to change that,” he decides, settling on the statement. Kimblee is not a man who makes promises because he does not keep them. But he crosses his heart, the heart he has that he had no use for besides its vital purpose until tonight, that he will make this thing of beauty seated so lovely beside him laugh again. A promise to one’s self is after all, the hardest to break. He notices Envy doesn’t say anything in response.

“I suppose a man like you appreciates a challenge then, if I take you correctly?”

Then he does.

“Very much so,” responds Kimblee, taking a sip out of his glass, more gracefully than he normally would since his Envy is watching him do so. He notices his eyes grow a little wide, and is not sure why, he’s curious and maybe even a little anxious, he hopes he hasn’t done anything to upset his darling-

“Thank you for the wine, Kimblee,” he says, lifting his glass to his lips and drinking and the sight with the words is a marvelously magnificent thing to behold. “I would have never expected you to behave like such a gentleman.”

“I have never had a reason to do so until now,” replies Kimblee, it’s an admission more than anything because he means it. “I’ve never met anyone that’s made me want to act in such a manner,” he states truthfully, his next sentence, is not a statement, but a request as he reaches for his Envy’s hand again and clasps it in his own, looks him straight in the eye as he says it so his Envy knows his sincerity is every bit as real as what he asks. “Please, call me Solf.”

“Solf,” Envy says, wetting his lips with his tongue, and Kimblee finds himself entranced by the sight and even more so at the way he says his name. “Have you ever let anyone else call you that before?”

“Not in a long time,” Kimblee admits, and he sees Envy smile at him. He can tell, somehow, that it is genuine, and he can also tell that it is sad.

“I understand,” is what he says, and Kimblee definitely knows without questioning it that he does.

“I must admit that do not know a lot about you, my darling,” Kimblee muses, beginning to rub circles into the palm of his hand as he watches his Envy take another drink. “But I would very much like that to change. If there is anything you would like me to know about yourself, please, by all and any means-” Kimblee pauses, and he squeezes Envy’s hand in his, its gingerly and its tender, its soft and its gentle. “Tell me all about it.”

“Do you mean it?” is what his Envy asks him next, it comes out before Kimblee can even really process his thoughts, and his answer does as well but it doesn’t make what he tells him in response any less true. It’s quite simple, but truth is nothing he says for tonight could be truer.

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

Solf J. Kimblee didn’t think it was possible for him to be so in love. That all changed when he saw his Envy grinning at him, wide and full and with teeth, and he realized he could feel him squeezing his hand back.

“You know, I am the oldest of all the homunculi. I’ve nearly been around for 400 years, at this point,” he tells him as that grin settles, but he doesn’t need to, because Kimblee already knows all too well. “A lot has happened since my initial conception,” he adds, his voice drawling and slurring at certain words, which finely tickles Kimblee’s ear. “I really wouldn’t know where to even begin,” he says, finishing his train of thought whilst slurring more words, and if Kimblee gets to hear him talk like that for the rest of the night then all he wants now is for his Envy to keep that train going until it runs all the way out of steam.

“Perhaps I could give you an idea. You know, all stories alike start at the beginning,” Kimblee smiles a little, faint but definitely noticeable, as he notices his Envy’s lip quirk slightly as he does it. “I’m sure yours in all its wrought glory is far greater than any ever told. So I suppose that is my question for you, my darling…” Kimblee’s speech trails off as he inhales a soft but audible breath, he takes a moment to look his Envy straight in his eye as he drinks from his wine glass, and squeezes his hand again in turn as he watches that ruby red fluid lubricate that little throat as it slides down.

Kimblee finds himself squeezing Envy’s hand just a little tighter as he instinctively drinks from his own glass. He lets out an exhale of air, sighs it out somewhat as he pushes it past his lips, and as he does he notices Envy leaning back on the couch. He realizes, that the homunculus’s shoulder-blades are touching the back of his arm, and he tries to stop the smile on his face from morphing into a grin of its own, but Kimblee is never truly a man of control on his best or worst day and it really is a mute point, mute like he is now but the audacious grin on his face says everything. Really, it is his Envy who is filled with such audacity, because he’s never felt so fucking elated in his life as he does now at the thought of how those definably ridged yet delicate shoulder-blades are not rigid against the splay of his extended arm, rather they are softened, and they are relaxed. His Envy is slowly but oh so surely finally beginning to relax for him.

Those violet eyes still gaze back at him, and Kimblee realizes just how much inquisition is in them as his Envy is the one to ask him a question. He chokes on his breath as he hears it, and is certainly glad his drink is rested in his hand and not on his tongue, as it would have been the second time tonight he’d have spat it out and Kimblee desires not to make a baffling fool out of himself, but it’s hard when he hears two words slip from his darling’s mouth and it’s not the only thing, oh no.

“Yes, Solf?”

Kimblee takes another drink from his glass simply to distract Envy, or himself, definitely himself, from the laying urge he has to violently kiss those lips that have uttered such so sweetly. And it is hard.

But Solf J. Kimblee is a calculating man, he is not a careless man on this night, and he will make sure that he waits as long as it takes for his darling’s desire to fill his pool. He will wait as long as it takes until that desire is spilling over the very brim for him, he will wait as long as it takes until his darling is begging to be drained of every ounce of that ruby red fluid nestled so deep inside him. Oh, yes.

“My question for you, my darling, is,” Kimblee’s breathing a little heavier now as he starts it off, he reigns it in to the best of his ability as he finishes said question. “Where does your story begin?”

He hears his Envy laugh, it’s still a lovely sound but is admittedly a little bitter, not overly noticeable but Kimblee can detect it all the same. He listens as the homunculus lets out a weary sigh, long and extended out in the soft stream of his breath, and feels as he leans his head back onto the couch and nestles his shoulders against his arm. He watches, as his darling blinks slowly, bats those long dark green lashes a few times at the air, before he turns his head to look at him. He’s smiling a little, its wry, but oh if it isn’t beautifully damning, and now that’s a good term to describe his Envy and everything that he is. He’s beautifully damned, and Kimblee in this moment wants nothing more than for them both to bask in the glory of his damnation. He wants his Envy’s sin to become his own, he wants him to stack each and every piece of it onto his back for him to carry for him, and he wants to feel those cold homunculus hands embrace him and their shared sinfulness as Kimblee stands and lets it all fall to the ground around them so they’re surrounded in it. He wants the sins of his sin to be what binds him to him forever and ever, and he hopes that in time his most darling Envy will someday want the same. Its all Kimblee has ever really desired he thinks, since he first saw that ethereally beautiful being standing with his delicate back turned to him in the vast dunes of Ishvalan desert—

“A long, long time ago,” says his Envy, and Kimblee is smiling again, its serene and its utterly unnatural for the being that he is, but If there’s one thing that Kimblee has learned tonight its that he didn’t know himself near as well as he thought he did, because he’s who he is and he always has been but when he’s around this glorious goddess of malevolent glamor he becomes everything he isn’t, and everything he thought he never could be. And what an utmost privilege it is, something sublimely beautiful and something superbly glorious.

Yes indeed, for sure it is.

“You must have so much to tell, I’m sure,” responds Kimblee, flexing his free hand behind Envy’s back, the muscles in his arm twitch as he can feel his darling homunculus settling in and getting comfortable, he leans his head back just a little and closes his eyes as he lifts his glass to his lips and takes another sip, meanwhile Kimblee is nothing if not entranced and all he can do in the moment is watch. He watches as Envy lowers his glass and lets out a soft ‘ahh’ and Kimblee’s smiling a little wider at the sound, and even wider as he realizes his darling’s sip was not merely a sip as his glass is about halfway empty already. Kimblee follows in his lead and takes a sip of his own, his is getting close to about the halfway point too but its more than alright because they’ve still got over half a bottle left. There will be plenty for tonight, and as Kimblee settles on the thought and finds himself getting comfortable as well, while his mind’s on it he finds himself asking his Envy a question related to the topic. “Are you comfortable, my darling?”

“I’m drunk,” is what he says in response, and it makes Kimblee chuckle, he holds himself back from fully laughing but what he does let out is entirely genuine, he doesn’t want his Envy to think he’s laughing at him but he can’t help but be ever amused by his blatancy, and the fact that he does seem comfortable enough with Kimblee to exhibit such must mean he feels—

“Let me rephrase that, then. “Do you feel safe?”

He notices his Envy stiffen on the couch a little, and Kimblee is admittedly unsure of how to go about such a matter. He’s listening to the pace of his Envy’s breathing, he notices it’s a little heavier than it was before, and in what he can only describe as an experiment he rests his hand on Envy’s shoulder and clutches it with ginger firmness. It’s not too soft, not too hard, but just enough to grab his darling’s attention and hopefully shift it away from whatever thoughts in that pretty head may be troubling him.

“I never thought I’d hear you ask me that,” his Envy notes dryly, he’s not looking at Kimblee as he says it but then, he is, and Kimblee can see another faint trace of smile on that face he adores so very much. He’s smiling too, its crossing the threshold into a light grin and there’s nothing faint about it as his Envy adds, “Will I still be safe if I tell you?”

“Do you want to be?”

KImblee does not think about what he’s asking Envy as the question leaves his mouth, but he’s sure as hell thinking about it now. He’s not sure what he really meant by it but oh if that isn’t a lie, not to his Envy but only to himself, as Kimblee is more than sure of exactly what he was implying. He hears his Envy laugh again, it sounds much more pleasant this time around and is also genuine, he can tell Envy did not get what he was aiming at by asking the question and Kimblee admittedly finds it rather endearing that his darling is so naïve about the nuances of sex after being alive for nearly 400 years, as he’s said and Kimblee knows. It is also something that turns him on way more than it should, but Kimblee is not about to piss around debating the fallacy of his own moral standards with himself because if he’s being honest there’s nothing about his Envy that doesn’t turn him on and besides, Kimblee has never been a man of morale and he doesn’t intend to start now. He would much rather engage in whatever this little beauty of his that’s sat beside him leaning back on his arm has to say, anyways.

“You know Solf, I do find you truly entertaining. I suppose if you are really interested in hearing my story…” Envy taps his bare foot against the rug underneath them, its subtle and its soft, and then his Envy is speaking again and his normally sharp voice has lost all remnants of its edge and smoothed down into something even softer. “I’ll tell you where it all started.”

Kimblee smiles again, and it is not subtle but it is soft. He’s getting somewhere, he knows, his Envy has given him the closest thing he’s ever received from him resembling a compliment and it’s already something he’ll lock in his heart and treasure forever. Oh, how he’ll treasure his most precious Envy forever. He begins to lift his glass slowly, before he’s got it to his mouth he utters one word to signal everything he thinks.

“Excellent.”

Envy stills again, he is not stiff, just still. Kimblee can’t hear him breathing anymore, he is not sure if it’s just softened or if the homunculus has entirely stopped. Kimblee lets out a breath of his own through his nose, trying to encourage his Envy to breathe with him, it doesn’t seem to have the intended effect as it makes him jump beside Kimblee on the couch a little. Jump, isn’t the right word though, and Kimblee is all too aware because what Envy does in his presence is something he’s far too used to coming from most who he’s encountered.

Envy flinches.

“You know, I have no intentions of hurting you on this night, or any, my darling,” says Kimblee, and Envy shudders a breath but he hasn’t pulled away from Kimblee, so Kimblee takes it as a well enough sign to continue. “The first time I saw you standing in the desert, you were facing the burning ruins of Ishval with your back turned to me, I could have walked right up on you and you wouldn’t have even noticed. Do you remember, Envy?”

Envy doesn’t answer the question, however he has relaxed again somewhat in his position, and Kimblee takes it as another sign to keep going.

“I could have walked right up on you and folded you in the palms of my hands. I could have blown you to pieces. And I won’t lie to you, I thought about it, Envy.”

Envy still doesn’t say anything, it’s alright, Kimblee doesn’t expect him to now. He’s just recounting a tale that at this point they both know all too well.

“I thought about it. But I didn’t. I’m sure you can only imagine why a man like me would choose to show mercy when I’ve never been so inclined to. But on that day in that moment, I was. Do you know why, Envy?”

“No,” Envy whispers hoarsely, it’s just loud enough that Kimblee can hear it. He doesn’t smile, neither of them do, but his lip does pull a little as he thinks back to that day, in that moment, his reason why.

“I was motionless where I stood, and so were you. But then,” Kimblee’s inhaled another breath, he pauses for a second to keep it in his lungs, and then he exhales it out through his nose in a light feathery stream as he parses the memory through his head yet again. “I watched as you slowly turned your head to look at me, and I saw your face. Your face, Envy, I’ve killed people with looks of all calibers in my lifetime, but I couldn’t kill you because you were so beautiful I didn’t think you were real. I thought I was having a hallucination.”

Envy doesn’t respond, but Kimblee can hear him finally exhaling a breath, and can feel him shifting his position on the couch.

“Do you remember that day, my darling?”

“I remember everything,” breathes Envy, Kimblee realizes he is shifting closer to him, he doesn’t move himself but makes sure he is not tense so his Envy feels invited to do so. “They say you don’t remember who you were before you were brought back. That it’s a void and your identity is all forgotten.”

Envy’s breathing is shallow now, and Kimblee knows because he can feel his Envy shuddering. He’s shaking a little, and Kimblee can tell he’s upset but also that it is not related to him, he’s not sure what to say so he says nothing. However, he does wrap his arm a little tighter around Envy, he takes a sip from his glass and its halfhearted, and then he watches as his Envy lifts his own to his lips, seemingly about to do the same.

“They say—” Envy stops, his glass is raised, and then he takes a huge gulp and swallows it all down, there’s barely any left in it now and Kimblee is surprised by the motion, though it is something he will definitely keep to himself. “They say, that you don’t remember anything.” Envy lowers his glass, his hand is trembling, and Kimblee truly is at a loss at what to do because he wants to take Envy’s glass but he doesn’t want to let him go and he’s torn but then his Envy is speaking again, its loud and indignant and suddenly his glass is dropping from his hand and— “But they’re wrong.”

The last word rings out as Envy’s glass shatters on the floor at their feet. Kimblee realizes he may have made a mistake in persuading him to open up, as he can hear sniffling beside him now and realizes that his darling is crying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Kimblee shushes him softly.

“It is quite alright, my darling,” he lets him know, and he wants to say something else, he’s not really sure how but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t mean it because he does. He tries his best to say it anyways, the normal bit of brashness in his voice is gone, it comes out hushed and mellow but is just loud enough so that his Envy is able to hear him clearly. “I am very sorry. I never intended to cause you any pain by making you relive things you would rather forget.”

“I don’t want to forget them, Kimblee,” says Envy, and Kimblee finds that he is now listening intently for what his next words will be. “Sorry, Solf,” he relays quickly, still obviously a little shaken up, and Kimblee laughs, it’s at the addition but it’s a little sad because the last thing he wanted on this night was for his darling to feel any pain. He shakes his head lightly at him.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my darling. What is it that you were going to say?” he asks, and he hears his Envy exhale a moderately distressed sigh before he’s then listening to the next words of the homunculus seated beside him, he’s got him wrapped in his arm and suddenly his head falls onto Kimblee’s shoulder and Kimblee has to do everything in his power not to jump, not because he is dismayed but because in the midst of everything going on the motion delights him.

“I want them all to know I remember.”

There is not a lot of words that Solf J. Kimblee has heard uttered that have been profound enough to give him a chill. However, he feels his skin raising with goosebumps, and realizes that such is exactly what his Envy has managed to accomplish. His darling truly is, in every sense of the word, a profound creature, profoundly thoughtful, profoundly emotional, and profoundly goddamn beautiful as he lifts his head back up and gazes at Kimblee without uttering a word more. Kimblee is too stunned to speak and can do nothing but gaze back; the way Envy is looking at him, its indecipherable, but Kimblee is trying his best regardless to clock what may be in such a sublime stare and finally, he catches something in it that he recognizes better than anything.

His Envy’s gaze, it holds intention.

“Almost 400 years ago, I was brought back from the dead. I felt my soul being pulled from the gates of hell into this world again. It was the most torturous agony I have ever felt to this day. But when I saw his face, when I saw him looking at me, it was all worth it.”

Kimblee knows who Envy is talking about. He doesn’t say anything.

“All I could do, in the form that he had resurrected me in, was look back. I looked back at him with love, because he loved me enough to bring me back to life. I could tell he was scared, he didn’t realize I would come back like this, and I was scared too. Everything was foggy and I couldn’t really remember anything, not at first. But then, I saw him reach his hand out, he was going to touch my head. And I—”

Envy looks down at the broken glass still laying at their feet, and blinks his eyes shut.

“I thought I didn’t remember anything. But I did, I remembered who he was as soon as I saw his face. I realized he was reaching out to touch me. I knew he was scared, but I also knew that he still loved me despite what I was at that point.”

Envy swallows a breath, Kimblee can hear it gulp down his throat. He lifts his head a little, but his eyes are still closed.

“I knew he had to have known I remembered him.” Suddenly, Envy opens his eyes, they’re watery and the sound of his breathing rattles, like the inside of his chest is hollow. “I whispered his name,” he breathes, and then he’s clutching Kimblee’s thigh in his cold hand and he’s clutching it tight. “He stopped moving, and he just stared at me. I saw him pull his hand back. He was completely still, and he just kept staring at me.”

Envy’s gaze solidifies, and all Kimblee can do is watch as it settles into an incensed glare.

“I listened to him as he said nothing. I watched him turn his back to me.”

Tears begin to drip from Envy’s eyes, they bleed a startling, visceral red out from the thick of his blinking lashes. He grasps Kimblee’s thigh with every bit of inhumanly superior strength he has, it’s even more viscerally excruciating but it only lasts for a second, as then his Envy is letting go.

“And then I watched him walk away.”

Envy’s hand has ridged itself still completely on top of Kimblee’s thigh, it is frigid and unmoving, like it is dead. But then, Kimblee can feel his palm twitch from under his slacks, and he still doesn’t say anything because he has no idea what to say.

“He loved me enough to bring me back. But he didn’t love me enough to stay.”

Envy’s voice is weak, it croaks in his throat and all Kimblee can do is gaze at him thoughtfully. It is impossible for him not to hold such thought when he is around his Envy, and suddenly he finds himself being overwhelmed with it, not just thought but emotion. He’s sad that his Envy’s sad, and he’s enraged that he’s distraught over that fucking—

Hohenheim of Light better hope he never reaches the day in his four centuries of forsaken life that he runs across Kimblee. He’s seen first hand how some fates are worse than death.

If Solf J. Kimblee ever runs across him, he’ll give him the worst, and he’ll make damn well certain that the motherfucker suffers for what he’s done.

Kimblee still does not know what to say, so he says nothing. However, where his words are absent his actions are not, and that is when for the first time in his life, Solf J. Kimblee is pulling someone in with his arm and wrapping them in a hug.

Envy sobs into his shoulder, and all Kimblee can do is hug him tighter. He’s sure his tears are staining the fabric of his tank top, he wore a white one for this night, but Kimblee is not inclined to give a damn. He’s heard many cry in the wake of his presence, but never has he so badly wanted to make one stop.

With every bit of utmost effort pointed into his aim, Solf J. Kimblee takes a shot that will either make or break everything he’s ever wanted. All he wants now, is for his beloved Envy to stop crying, because he’s always believed himself not to be a man of emotion and he’s beginning to fear that it is yet another thing his darling has proved him dead wrong on.

“I don’t know what four centuries of misery is like,” Kimblee starts, and he finds the pace of his own breathing coming to a halt as he is not the only one on this night who remembers. “But I can relate more than you might believe.”

His Envy says nothing in response, however Kimblee can hear his sobbing starting to let up, its lightened into weak cries now, his face is still buried in Kimblee’s shoulder but as Kimblee exhales a sigh that really has nothing to do with his dearest homunculus, he can feel him shifting on the couch a little, his breathing beginning to settle back into a steadier rhythm.

“I haven’t endured to the same extent that you’ve endured, my darling,” Kimblee says, and he knows now that as he has started, he must finish. “I don’t understand a lot of your pain, and I don’t understand the concept of empathy. There’s a lot of concepts I’ve never been able to grasp within the time I’ve been alive, I know it’s been a much shorter time than yours but in the time I have lived…”

Kimblee inhales.

“You have made me understand a lot more of them.”

Kimblee exhales.

“I have never cared about anyone in my life. I hope you can forgive me for not going about this properly, because I don’t know how. I normally have thought nothing of anyone’s woes, I’ve found them glorious and reveled in them if anything. But when I see you exposing your grief so openly, Envy…”

Kimblee breaths in. He breathes out. And then—

“I cannot help but be reminded of my own that I hide.”

Kimblee heaves a sigh.

Envy raises his head. He’s looking at Kimblee.

His darling is looking at him.

And then he is speaking to him.

“I was not aware you could feel anything at all until tonight.”

Kimblee laughs a little, it is not sardonic and it is not even bitter, it is simply sad. Still, it is genuine, as are the words that Kimblee relays next.

“Neither was I.”

They both say nothing to each other, continuing to breathe in and out, Kimblee realizes the rhythm of their breaths have synced and it doesn’t make him smile but he feels the familiar emotion that would normally come with one all the same. Kimblee is not an emotional man, but when it comes to his darling, he supposes that maybe, he is.

“Let me clean up your glass, my darling. I don’t want you accidentally cutting those precious feet,” is what Kimblee says to break the silence between them, his Envy in turn crosses his legs together and lifts the foot he has on the floor.

“Can’t you just use alchemy to fix it?” Envy asks him, Kimblee can tell it’s a genuine question so he gives a genuine answer.

“I could try my hand, but its for the best I not. My alchemy is only good for one thing, I think you know.”

Envy nods his head musingly as Kimblee leans down to scoop up the pieces in his hands. He seems to realize what Kimblee is doing, and promptly emits a startled sound from his throat.

“What the hell are you doing, you’ll cut yourself to fucking pieces!”

It’s the most colorful language he’s heard from his darling all night, and it makes Kimblee laugh in equally startled delight. He pushes the pieces into a neat pile, as neat as he can get them anyways, and bunches them together in his palms before scooping them up. He shows Envy his hands holding the broken glass, smiling to a point of lightly grinning once more at the look of utter surprise on his darling’s pretty face. His eyes are wide, his mouth is twitching, and he’s sucked his cheeks in just a little, its absolutely adorable and Kimblee can’t help but laugh again, just as his Envy cannot help but notice that Kimblee’s hands are not gushing out onto the rug.

“See, no blood on my hands,” says Kimblee as he stands up from the couch, and in realizing what he’s actually just uttered, he’s looking at Envy and Envy is looking at him.

They both burst out laughing.

Envy is bowed over on the couch laughing his pretty little ass off. Kimblee’s barely standing upright, he almost drops the pieces in his hands and it distracts him enough to calm himself down, and he’s so glad he has, because without the sound of his own brash voice howling to drown everything out, he gets to hear the rapturous sound of his Envy shrieking in mirth, a beauteous sound from a beautiful creature, his ravishing little delight that he loves so. Kimblee also realizes what he’s just parsed through in his own head, he’s not questioning it but is simply aware. He doesn’t say anything as he heads to the grand wooden doors to throw away the pieces in his hand, he’s more wobbly on his feet but makes the best of it, there’s a small trashcan on the other side of the doors in the dining room that Dante would use for waste that wasn’t food related, he’ll hand it to the bitch for keeping one there at least because it means he doesn’t have to walk all the way through the dining room to the kitchen in the state he’s in. His Envy is still shrieking for him and Kimblee realizes he must be really drunk, he’s laughing a little too out of sights again at the thought as he steps past the doors and slides the broken glass off his hands into the trash, he hopes Envy doesn’t desire a new glass because while he didn’t have too much trouble making it this far he's not in any state to be carrying any fragile objects, whether he is ever in such a state is arguable within itself but Kimblee is not here to philosophize because he's got another focus on this night and he decides he’ll be back on his way to tending to him. While Kimblee enjoys philosophy himself, he’s got something he’d much rather do tonight that involves a lot more action than thought and the ecstasy in his system combined with his intoxication is really starting to mess with his head, its not unpleasant but it is making his thoughts swirl, he’s making his way back to Envy now and that delightful shrieking has mostly quieted down, its calmed into little fits of giggles and Kimblee’s not sure if Envy is even still laughing at what he said, regardless the sound is still very much welcome in gracing Kimblee’s ear and he hopes it will be far from the last time he gets to hear it.

“Whatever you’re laughing at must be very funny,” notes Kimblee in amusement as he turns the corner of the couch and tugs at his ponytail, he's not really sure why he did it but its habit for him more than anything, he’s glazing his eyes over to his darling and finds that his violet ones are glowing with shared amusement, he’s got his chin rested atop of his hand and he’s biting his lip at Kimblee and Kimblee realizes he had gone soft for a while as he’s definitely starting to harden up again, his Envy is puffing out his bottom lip between his teeth and Kimblee can’t help but smile.

“Funny?”

Envy bursts out laughing again. This really is going to be fun, Kimblee thinks, he tells to no one but himself but the sentiment remains the same. Kimblee sits down beside his Envy and finally finds himself relaxing his posture and leaning back on the couch, the homunculus beside him follows suit which Kimblee has no qualms about, he’s glad the sweet thing is making himself comfortable and he’s overjoyed when he realizes that his Envy is curling up and leaning into him. He instinctively wraps an arm back around him and lets himself sit in the moment they’re in together as his darling finally begins to settle in, he feels his breath hit his side and there truly is nothing that Kimblee can describe himself as feeling in this moment other than joy. Sweet, rapturous joy, and he’s never felt such a thing until tonight either but he sure feels it now. He’s grinning wildly, he’s so fucking happy and he can’t even hide it, its not light at all, it’s the grin he has on his face in times of chaos but now as it sits Kimblee has never felt more at peace.

He decides, then and there, that it’s a nice feeling.

“You know Envy, I don’t commonly see others laugh around me. I must say it is a pleasure to watch you do so.”

KImblee taps his foot against the rug beneath them, its somewhat absentminded but his head is swimming in thoughts. To be more precise, it swims with one.

“You truly do look beautiful when you smile.”

He feels his Envy shifting on the couch, and comes to realize he is lifting himself up – he’s laying himself down.

He's laying himself down. And he’s laying his head on Kimblee’s lap.

He’s blinking up at Kimblee. And in his amazement at what has happened and what he sees, all Kimblee can do is blink back.

“Really?” his Envy asks, the corner of his lip is beginning to tug. Kimblee feels himself getting harder, his mouth is drying up but there’s still just enough saliva on his tongue for him to speak without struggle.

“Really.”

Envy grins at him, lips pulled thin, his pretty teeth are bared on full display at Kimblee, its almost a little vicious in the way his darling’s best grins always are, and Kimblee doesn’t have anything else to say because he couldn’t if he tried.

His beautiful darling, however, does have something else to say.

“Something’s poking me,” he giggles, Kimblee blushes immediately as he realizes what his Envy is referring to.

“I bet it is,” Kimblee says before he can think about it, he already knows he sounds fucking stupid, his Envy makes him so fucking stupid, he’s so fucking stupid for him that Kimblee would pity himself if he was capable of feeling such a thing.

“Bet what is?” the homunculus lets out another mirthful shriek as he starts to giggle again, he’s got a blithe expression on his face though Kimblee admittedly cannot tell by the intonation of his speech if he’s asking in sincerity. There’s a sort of playful innocence that vibes within the shrill sound of his voice, and whether its genuine or not it doesn’t really matter, because now Kimblee is hard as a fucking rock all over again as he hears his Envy shriek again in a fit of giggles.

Kimblee doesn’t say anything. Envy, however, does, and what he says next has Kimblee blushing from ear to ear as the homunculus shifts his body on the couch, he’s turning his head towards Kimblee’s stomach for a second and biting his lip before he’s looking back up at Kimblee, he’s stopped giggling but he’s still all smiley, his eyes are half lidded now and his gaze is heavier than before, there’s something to it that Kimblee wants to be there but he can’t tell for sure, and what comes out of his mouth only solidifies that confusion along with Kimblee’s—

“Its hard.”

Kimblee’s dick is so fucking hard that it might burst through the containment of his slacks. His darling is more than correct, and as he hears him start to erupt into a fit of giggles again he can feel a heat simmering in his lower abdomen, the concealed length of his erection throbs in a hot, hot ache, his entire groin pulses intensely with heat, fuck, Envy’s shifting again, its just enough to provide a tantalizing pressure on Kimblee’s dick, the creature lets out another shrill shriek as he does it that’s so loud it almost sounds like an ecstatic scream, and Kimblee’s going to come if he doesn’t stop, oh fuck fuck fuck—

Envy sits up all of a sudden, and Kimblee cannot tell if he is relieved or disappointed. He tosses a coin in his head, he hasn’t dictated which is heads and which is tails so its really a mute point, mute like he is now, but then he hears the sound of his Envy’s voice travelling through his ear and realizes he is speaking to him, Kimblee is absolutely dumbfounded and has no idea what he’s just said more than he has any idea if he’s actually going to last long enough to stick his dick in him tonight, he’s thinking about what those toned, thick thighs must look like nestled so covertly under the silky green satin of his nightgown, he’s imagining them tensing up as sweet, sweet pleasure seeps throughout his entire body, he’s picturing the muscles in that tight little ass clenching and he’s—

“What?”

He wasn’t saying anything in response. He has now, he may have sounded like a stumbling idiot but he’s said something, he did answer his Envy’s question. Uh, whatever it was.

KImblee decides to try again.

“I’m terribly sorry, I did not hear you before. What was your question?” Kimblee fumbles the rhythm of his own breath, before he also asks, albeit weakly, “You— you were asking me a question, weren’t you my darling?”

“Yes, Solf,” says his Envy, he’s smiling with a hint of something that Kimblee can only take as seductive and his languid tone of voice only suggests the same, of course even just hearing that voice seduces Kimblee and— “I was. I was asking you if you would mind if I drank a little from your glass, since I did break my own earlier.”

The wrought tension in Kimblee’s body begins to finally loosen. Oh. Alright, then.

“Of course you may, my darling,” says Kimblee, fixing his posture as he sits back up straight. “I will refill it for you.”

“Refill it for me? Are you so opposed to sharing my spit with me?” Envy asks, splaying a pale hand over his little chest in what Kimblee is sure is at most a semi-sincere gesture of shock, he sounds far more amused than offended and Kimblee simply shakes his head at him, he’s smiling a little again and it really cannot be helped, as he’s learned when he’s around his darling. He leans over and grabs their bottle of wine off the table, sure his Envy is only playing with him. He decides he will simply have to play back.

“I think you already know the answer to that, little stone.”

Kimblee promptly begins to pour wine into their glass, he knows his Envy is watching him do so and is waiting to see what he’ll hear next from the lovely little thing. Envy isn’t saying anything, though Kimblee can see a flash of a small smile on his face out of the corner of his eye, and he finds himself to be correct in what he’s envisioned as he turns to his darling to hand him his glass. His precious stone, his beautiful bride, the bride Kimblee had dreamed of for 14 years whilst locked inside the confines of that damned prison cell, is now sat beside him, waiting to share a glass of wine with him, and really Kimblee could not be any more elated at the thought of sharing sweet homunculus spit, tasting it, savoring it, swallowing it down and in turn giving Envy a taste of his own. Its not just a pleasing proposition – its so tempting it makes Kimblee’s mouth water at the sheer thought. It’s the closest he’s come to tasting his darling, and the realization of just how close he is to finally being able to savor that taste is enough to flood the drought inside his mouth with saliva, its far from dry now but all Kimblee wants in this moment between them is to make it wetter. That warm, slick little mouth, Kimblee’s heard all about it from Greed but never seen it working the magic he’s heard it contains in all its wet glory, he has however gotten to watch that hot, tight little ass in full action as greedy hands slid it up and down on an even greedier cock, and at that point as Kimblee stood watching the scene unfold from the doorway he couldn’t even blame fucking bastard for executing his sin so freely, however it sure as hell did not stop him from fucking the son of a bitch over, if anything it was what ultimately assured him he would, because Kimblee had stood there stroking his cock to what he saw commencing on that bed and he’d never come so hard in his life as he watched his Envy tremble in the throes of full body orgasm, Greed had held the fucking audacity to look him right in the eye as he had first noticed him standing there but in that moment neither of them were focused on a damn thing except for Envy, Kimblee had never witnessed a more hauntingly beautiful orgasm in his life and he fucked Greed in the end out of spite but he also did it because he needed to see the rapture of that orgasm happen again, and to this day Kimblee thinks seeing it commence as a result of his own action might just save his soul. Oh, of course it fucking wouldn’t, Kimblee has been damned since his own bastardly conception and he’s only dug himself deeper into hell since, but feeling that body tense and clench above him, under him, beside him or wherever his sweetest sin so desires to lay, feeling it stiffen before relaxing into an ethereal bliss and hearing the sounds that his sin could make in such a moment made all because of him? It wouldn’t give Kimblee salvation, but he sure as hell wouldn’t know the damn difference.

Kimblee sure as hell is hot would never be able to forget the look on his Envy’s face as the homunculus’ back was folded, the way his spikes of olive green hair hung down and touched Greed’s thighs, and the way his eyes were rolled so far back in his head that he appeared possessed by the rapture of his own filthy sin, there is no other word Kimblee could use to describe what he saw; the homunculus being so passionately ravished atop that bed, because despite having long realized his darling had no idea he was there Kimblee felt the execution of judgement strike its hand down on everything he had ever done and everything he had ever thought to do, everything he had ever wanted and everything he would never get, it was all within the whites of those beautiful eyes, and as Kimblee saw just a sliver of deep, glowing violet reappear he realized that everything he had ever wanted was right in front of him, impaled on the cock of another and being grasped within the esurient clutch of ultimate avarice itself.

Kimblee would never forget the way Greed’s hands held Envy so lovingly, the utter display of reverence in his grip, or the way Envy’s hands clutched those hands back and clutched them tight as he came.

“Solf.”

Kimblee realizes he’s been sidetracked by his own train of thought again. He refocuses himself, thinking about how lovely his name sounds rolling off his darling’s tongue as he somewhat hastily sets their bottle of wine back down on the tabletop. He looks at Envy, who’s smiling at him for a moment, and even if fleeting the sight is enough to calm Kimblee considerably. He watches as his darling takes what is probably a second sip from their glass, he doesn’t mind, his Envy can have as much as he wants, and sees him extending their glass to him, it takes him a second to also realize that he is handing it to him. He takes the glass, definitely hastily, as he sees the look of slight startle on his darling’s face, he’s lifting his hand with his free one to his lips and he’s kissing the top of it covetously, before gingerly lowering it and letting go. He smiles back a little, just enough to assure his Envy that everything is alright.

“Yes, my darling?”

“I cannot not help but wonder how such a brutish man as yourself can touch one so gently.” Envy looks down at their feet, by where the broken pieces of his glass had laid on the rug beneath them, before lifting his gaze back up to Kimblee. He watches as he takes a sip from their glass, his lips having pulled a little tighter. He has an expression on his face, though it is not a smile. “What made you decide it to be me?”

Kimblee does not say anything for a moment. He has to think about his answer, he doesn’t want to come out with the first thing he thinks and stumble over such thought as it springs from his head. However, he finds himself not having to think for long, he knows what he wants to say and he knows without a single doubt that in his eyes it is nothing but objective fact.

“Truth of the matter, if you inquire so, Envy…” Kimblee holds their glass in his hand for another moment to take a second sip, he lifts it back to his lips and does so before lowering it again and licking his lips of wine residue. “There is no one I’ve ever wanted for myself until I saw you.”

“Wanted for yourself?” Envy seems to ponder the thought, he taps his foot as he does so, which signals to Kimblee to hand him back the glass. He is caught off guard by Envy’s next sentence, a question, because it is not something he was expecting to hear yet its all too familiar to him to know. “Am I no more than simply a possession to you?”

Kimblee laughs, it’s a little off, as Envy takes the glass from him. He does not drink from it, instead aptly staring Kimblee in the eye and not easing him any, not that he needs it. He’s not uneased, he’s not even uncomfortable, but he is at a loss for words because there’s a tinge of something in his Envy’s voice that feels like an accusation. He thinks of how to handle it accordingly, and has already figured it out, because as far as such goes if there’s one thing Solf J. Kimblee is undoubtedly skilled in besides the art of murder it is acting accordingly whenever the need may rise, such need has risen and so has Kimblee in response to meet it. As always, he rises just a little bit higher.

“Oh, my darling.” Kimblee laughs again, its less loud, soft even, but there’s a quality to it that makes it stand out far more brazen. Kimblee is not sure what it is, but he knows that somehow, he feels it, and then he is, because his next words are everything he knows and everything he wants to know, they are the truth and he couldn’t be any more sure. “If you are a possession of mine, than I am nothing if not a possession of yours.”

His Envy is definitely pondering the thought once more as he raises their glass to that lush mouth to spoil it with more to drink, those pale pink lips have curved slightly as he waters his sweet tongue with the taste of wine. He’s still smiling, albeit a little wider, as he lowers the glass just a little and winks at Kimblee.

“Is that what you would call equivalent exchange?”

Solf J. Kimblee is so fucking hard. He doesn’t even have an analogy to accompany the thought this time, he can barely think at all when the only thought he’s capable of parsing is what he’s just witnessed, his darling is extending one of his stark, pale hands out and touching Kimblee’s thigh. Kimblee tenses up immediately, and in turn he can hear the homunculus laugh somewhat darkly as he grabs Kimblee hand and holds it in his, oh. He was reaching for his hand.

Oh. Envy is holding his hand.

“These hands, Solf. I have never seen such resilient hands in my life. Resilient hands on an even more resilient man?”

Kimblee can’t help but notice how his darling’s last words raise in intonation, as if he is asking him a question. He realizes, as Envy’s smoothing the soft pad of his thumb over the rough skin that covers the back of his hand, that it is not simply a question, but rather, it is an inquiry.

Kimblee smiles as his Envy flips his hand over.

“These deadly hands…” Envy whispers whilst examining the alchemic symbol tattooed on Kimblee’s palm. “These lethal palms. Who would have possibly agreed to mark you which such power?”

His voice has gotten a little louder, he continues to examine Kimblee’s palm, inspecting it closer. He rubs the pad of his index finger over the center of his alchemy symbol, drags it down to the edge of the circle, and Kimblee shivers. His Envy is now looking up at him, their hands still touching, and that is when Kimblee realizes they are no longer simply touching but rather entangled, as his darling is squeezing his hand and its tight, its tighter, it’s so tight its hurting him but it hurts so good, Envy is releasing the strength of his grip and letting go and by whatever god may or may not exist does Kimblee miss that pain.

“I marked myself, if you must know,” Kimblee whispers back. Envy’s eyes widen, not seemingly in any fear, but he does seem surprised at the notion.

“I must know, Solf Kimblee.” Envy flickers his gaze back down to Kimblee’s hand, it’s still palm up in his grasp, his gentle, tender grasp, Kimblee has never been touched in such a way before and it’s something he has no idea how to counteract. Maybe he doesn’t need to. “I must know how a man like you came to be.”

Kimblee does not know what to say. He is so marveled by the fact that his Envy is showing actual interest in him that he has no words that could convey such feeling, there is nothing he could say that would accurately describe how he feels, he is still speechless at this revelation that he feels at all, and he feels so much—

“Will you tell me, Solf?”

“Yes, my darling,” Kimblee replies, his breathing soft like his Envy’s voice, quaint in the moment shared between him and his darling. “Yes, I will.”

Solf J. Kimblee feels so much for his beautiful darling that he would do anything he asked without a single question. Whenever his goddess calls upon him, there is no doubt that Solf J. Kimblee will answer, and tonight, she beckons.

“It’s a long story,” says Kimblee, and he hears Envy laugh in response. He can’t judge the tone of such a laugh so he will not try, but he does add to his statement, “Not as long as yours, I know. Probably not as engaging either. I’ve only been alive for four decades as opposed to your centuries and would not have near as much to tell. But everything I do have to tell, everything known and anything not—” Kimblee stops in the middle of his sentence and smiles a little as he can tell his Envy is intently listening to him. “I think you know, Envy, that they say every man has three faces. The one he shows to the world, the one he shows to his loved ones, and the one he dares not bare to anyone but himself. I haven’t known anyone I’ve loved in so long.” Kimblee’s smile drops off his face. “So I’ve only ever had two faces myself.” He smiles again, just a little, at the irony of the prospect. “I have the one I display to the rest of the world, and the one I bare to no one but myself. If you really so desire, my darling…”

Kimblee clutches Envy’s hand in his and holds it. Envy lets out a slight gasp, however he does not move away, and Kimblee takes it as a good sign. He’s still gazing at Kimblee with intent, which he also takes well. Very well.

“I will show you every face I’ve ever had.”

Kimblee’s grip on his darling’s frail little hand is firm, yet soft. He loosens it slightly, allowing the homunculus to flex his fingers freely, and he’s not smiling but he is gazing at his Envy with all his heart pouring out through his eyes, he lets it all spill to the floor beneath them without saying a word and hopes that Envy will soak it all up. It’s his, it was his from the moment Kimblee saw him, it’ll always be his. Kimblee hears the breathing of his sweet sin begin to settle, and the sound of his voice as he responds to what he’s uttered forth is even sweeter, Kimblee can tell it’s not purposeful because there’s no undertone laying in that voice now, there’s nothing to it really but sweet sincerity, and Kimblee may not have a smile on his face but inside despite the memories coming back to him he finds himself feeling content; he’s happy.

“I would like to see what else lays dormant in a man like you. I’ve already seen so much I would have never expected in a human, let alone one like you,” says his darling, his soft voice feathering even softer as he squeezes Kimblee’s hand just a little. Kimblee notices, that even after he loosens such squeeze, that he is not letting go. “You know I am a covetous creature. My nature does not allow me to let anything go, whether it wishes to stay or leave.”

Envy is hesitating and Kimblee can tell. He’s not exactly sure what the homunculus is gauging at, though he’s starting to gather an idea. Just as Envy begins to let go of Kimblee’s hand, Kimblee clutches his back, holds it in his and splays it out, allows himself the subtle pleasure that comes with viewing such a beauteous hand grasped in his own, so starkly pale and delicately fragile, yet like Kimblee he knows just how resilient his darling is. He loves him for it. He loves him.

There is no doubt in his mind, that despite never having felt such a feeling before, that Solf J. Kimblee is in love. It’s not something he recognizes, rather it is something he just innately knows, and he knows it to be true, because nothing could be truer. Not to him, the truth compels all, and there is no higher truth to Kimblee than what he says to his darling next, it is not simply a statement said as there is something held in it that makes it something more.

It is Kimblee’s most willful admission. It is everything he feels and everything he wants. It is the truth and nothing but the truth, and it may be the only truth Kimblee really knows anymore.

“All I’ve ever wanted since I knew you existed was for you to covet me the same. However long you desire to keep me, my Envy.” Kimblee pauses, lets out a shaky breath, and expresses his undying devotion to his most dearest Envy, his sanct sin, his beloved bride, if all goes well he’ll be— “I will be yours.”

“Solf.” Envy’s breathing falters, he looks down at their entangled hands, and Kimblee may be sitting on his ass but his next words depict a man who is pleading on his knees, he’s begging and he doesn’t care because has to know the grace that his darling’s lips hold, he needs to sanctify his vows to his Envy now, he wants to—

“May I please kiss you, my darling? Watching those pretty lips utter my name is a blissful torture, but I can only take so much—"

Envy is closing his eyes. He’s squeezing Kimblee’s hand in his, it’s just tight enough so that Kimblee can feel it and know it’s real, he’s watching as his darling is parting his lips. Those pale, pretty pink lips, they are inviting him and Kimblee realizes he is waiting for such invitation to be taken.

Kimblee leans in and accepts it. His own eyes close, his lips are parting in turn, and he’s brushing a gentle hand on the side of his darling’s face as he takes his lips in his own and kisses them.

Envy’s lips feel softer than silk. And they are the sweetest sin Kimblee has ever tasted.

Bloodlust is so weak compared to the love Kimblee feels for this creature.

Kimblee cannot help himself in this moment. He sighs relievedly into Envy’s mouth, it pushes past his Envy’s lips, those silky, plush lips that Kimblee is finally tasting for himself, they’re so sweet and Envy kisses him so soft, like he’s shy, and he has no need to be because this is all Kimblee could ever want. He can’t find it in himself to pull away, keeps kissing those lips in a way he’s never kissed before, Kimblee’s never kissed anyone before and never had the desire to until now, and now, he is, and he understands why people kiss each other, he understands this desire and what it means, this is heavenly for a sinful man like Kimblee and feeling his darling’s lips kissing back is the highest blessing that could possibly have been bestowed upon him, his goddess has blessed him with the taste of his lush little mouth, plush parted lips and such a decadently sweet flavor that he could get lost in it, but its so alright with Kimblee, because why would he ever want to return to anything he’s known before this?

“So you’ll fuck me but you won’t even kiss me while you do it? Some gentleman you are, Greed.”

“Don’t mean to hurt your feelings. Told you I’ll stick my dick in anything. My lips are reserved for Envy.”

“You sure about that? I just saw your head in between some whore’s legs last week.”

Kimblee remembers how Greed had glared at him. They were out in the back of an alleyway, and he also distinctly remembers how Greed had looked down at their feet and kicked a stray pebble across the gravel, and Kimblee couldn’t parse what exactly what was going through the homunculus’ head other than being sure it was memories.

“Let me reiterate that, Kimblee.”

Greed had looked back up at him, his gaze still solidified but no longer glaring. There was something in his eyes that Kimblee had swore he hadn’t recognized, but swearing on such an oath would have only made him a liar, because he did. He knew.

“I only kiss Envy.”

Kimblee hears his darling gasping for air, his eyes fly open at the sound, he realizes he’s grabbed ahold of his face harsher than he meant to, he’s squeezing his hand in apology as he withdraws from the homunculus. Envy stares at him as he does so, he doesn’t seem upset by the motion but Kimblee can tell he is thinking about it regardless, he is too, he’s squeezing his Envy’s hand with gingerly gentleness once more to reassure him he truly didn’t mean to be so rough, but he sees his darling smiling a little out of the blue, he’s raising an eyebrow at the sight because he’s not sure what he’s done to warrant such a lovely sight in front of his eyes after he let himself get so careless, he—

“You kiss like a starved man, Solf. I’ve never felt a mouth so hungry on my own. You—” Envy’s smile begins to morph into a grin, faint, but oh if it isn’t there. “You kissed me like you’ve been deprived of the experience.”

Oh, how that grin grows wider on his darling’s face, and all Kimblee can do is observe and listen. He watches his pretty teeth glint, he can see a little fang poke out in that wide bared grin, its dissipating a bit but what his Envy says next fills in any void its left behind.

“I never thought I’d live the experience of a man kissing me with such depravity.”

There is something deep and dark that lines the edge of Envy’s voice as the last word slips from his lips. It morphs into what Kimblee can almost sense as a little distortion, something subtle but just present enough for him to notice, and he does and it makes the pit of his stomach sear. Oh, if his darling isn’t absolutely right in every way there is.

“I am a very depraved man.”

In every way there is, Solf J. Kimblee is.

He still can’t take his eyes off those lips. He can’t stop thinking about that lush little mouth.

But temptation kills, and Kimblee knows. He knows this, so he will continue to wait. Meanwhile.

“I can only imagine,” purrs his darling, he’s got the palm of the hand he’s just had in Kimblee’s splayed flat against the satiny silk of his nightgown, he’s slithering it down his leg as he's reaching the other one out and gracing Kimblee’s cheek, he’s brushing it across the side of his face as he says, “I would like to know you to the fullest extent, my Solf.  Teach me all there is to learn.”

Kimblee chokes on his breath. He realizes Envy has long since set their glass of wine back down on the table top, and promptly picks it back up to take a much needed drink from it. He does so, raising it to his lips and gulping a swig, allowing the wine to drench his throat and sate his thirst, and he’s thinking about that ruby red fluid nestled so deep inside him, and he can feel himself twitch in his slacks. For a man of no control, Kimblee surely has exerted a lot of it tonight, and he’s optimistic it will pay off in his favor because he really has no other choice. It’d be easy, too easy indeed, to overpower the homunculus seated beside him and hike that dress up over his gorgeous legs, touch everything that lays under that satiny silk and take it for himself, Kimblee knows he has finally managed to establish some level of trust with his darling and it’d be so easy for him to just take him now, but despite being an evil son of a bitch Kimblee is not that kind of evil and he has no desire to traumatize his darling as means to his end. His precious little stone deserves a night of heated passion and hot love, he deserves to be spoiled and cherished on a night like this to the fullest extent of Kimblee’s capabilities, and Kimblee has come to learn just how capable he is when it comes to such and he will give his darling anything he wants and everything he needs if he just tells him he wants his need fulfilled, but until then, Kimblee has got a story to tell. Its far less grand he’s sure than what his darling’s would be, but if his Envy wants to hear it then Kimblee will tell it, and he will tell him everything there is to know within himself, because whatever Envy wants is what Envy shall surely get.

“I suppose I will start off by telling you something I’ve never told anyone,” says Kimblee, lowering his glass from his lips and extending it out to his darling. “Would you like some more to drink?”

“Certainly,” replies his Envy, his tone of voice suggesting that his curiosity has been piqued. Kimblee reaches for the bottle sat upon the table and grabs it by the stem, he tilts its opening into their glass and begins to pour. Their glass wasn’t empty but was starting to get close, Kimblee can sense the shift of weight inside the bottle that tells him they’ve both been very much appreciative of the wine, it’s a fair bit lighter now than Kimblee can initially recall it being but it’s alright because he could have no complaints when it’s gotten him and his darling this far, and besides his darling is a delightful little drunk if Kimblee does say so himself. He’s a lot more relaxed and less on the edge, Kimblee can see why Greed liked to serve him a few drinks often times when he’d stop by, he remembers how Envy would sit in his lap as they shared a bottle, how they would smile and laugh and gaze into each other’s eyes.

But Greed is not here, Kimblee most certainly is, and this isn’t about that bastard. He realizes he’s about to spill their glass over, stops pouring and sips a little off the top to balance the weight. It is a much needed drink. With that, he hands the glass to Envy and sets the bottle back down on the table, getting back to where he was, where they were.

“What I am about to tell you is something no one alive except for me knows. You could call it a deep secret of mine.”

Kimblee watches as Envy lifts his glass to take a sip. His bride— no, that’s not what he is anymore, is it? Those lips have been acquainted with Kimblee’s own, finally after so long, and finally, the homunculus of his sole desire is the one thing Kimblee has always wanted him to be.

Envy the Jealous is Solf J. Kimblee’s wife. The spouse of his dreams, his beautiful, perfect wife, the one and only whom Kimblee has vowed forever and ever to, and there could be no one more deserving of hearing what Kimblee has kept hidden from all the world for so, so long. He’s waited so, so long, for this moment to commerce.

“And what would this deep secret of yours happen to be, my Solf?”

“My Envy…” Kimblee pauses as Envy hands him back their glass. He waits to take a sip, will finally get what’s been weighing on his chest for close to 40 years now off it, tits the first secret he’s ever held and the deepest secret he’s ever kept. He heaves a sigh, he’s nervous against his best efforts not to be, until he feels his Envy place a hand on his thigh and realizes he is rubbing it. Alright. “I will start by saying I am a man of utter blasphemy, for what I practice. That fact alone does not bother me, you know. But even before I ever learned how to kill I was considered a heathen, a scum of the earth by those people. Perhaps such has made it easier to commit to what I’ve been doing for all these years…” Kimblee swallows a breath of air, his Envy is still rubbing his thigh, and he lets all that air out in another long, heaving sigh. “Would you believe me if I told you I was one of them?”

“One of who?” his Envy asks, the motion of his hand coming to a stop. Kimblee cannot refrain any longer from taking a drink. Just remembering makes him need it. He grits his teeth, not at his darling at all but only at himself, as he raises his glass to his strained lips and parts them just enough to let a slither of wine drip past them. The taste hits his tongue, and his jaw is relaxing as he drinks and drinks and drinks. He drinks like he is thirsty, like he has been deprived of anything to quench his thirst in so long, just like he was in that goddamned fucking desert, goddamned fucking Ishval—

“One of them.” Kimblee glares at the wall, until he feels his darling softly clutching his thigh, and it is nothing but a miracle that he finds the solidity of such a glare melting away from his eyes, and he sees clearly, now, there is nothing left for him to hide after this. “My mother was one of them. They exiled her from the city for practicing alchemy. But her blood remained theirs.” Kimblee looks down at the floor. “And so does mine.”

Suddenly, Kimblee finds himself flicking his gaze back up, he lays it straight and before his Envy can say anything in response he’s staring him right in those pretty violet eyes and relaying to him the ugliest secret he’s ever had, he’s kept it for so long and now he is finally letting it go.

“The first people I murdered were my own, Envy. My mother was an Ishvallan. I am one of them.”

Kimblee cannot stop himself from taking another long-winded gulp of wine, the very thought of recognizing what he is makes his skin crawl. Neither he nor his darling says anything after that, the silence around them demeans and it defines. Kimblee closes his eyes, feeling defeated by his own admission. He feels a hand touching his chin, long, slender fingers are gracing his jawbone, and Kimblee really cannot help himself from smiling softly at the gesture. He does not say what he feels, but there is no doubt that he feels, and what he feels can only be described as love. Kimblee has never been a man of gratitude, but in this moment he is grateful for his Envy, and he is grateful for his love.

He loves him so much.

“Such a graceful creature you are, my darling,” says Kimblee, his eyes still closed, but he’s reaching a hand out in search of his Envy’s as he passes him the glass. He can feel Envy take it from him, and his other hand being grasped in turn. “My precious little stone.” Kimblee opens his eyes just a little, blinking his lashes and not particularly focusing his gaze, he doesn’t need to though because he knows where he is, he is right where he needs to be. Kimblee is a man sitting next to his wife, and he couldn’t imagine any other place he would want to be more than where he is. “You supply me with the very essence that makes me want to live. For 14 years I have waited for you. I would wait all over again if I knew I would end up here.”

“I would have never expected you to be such a romantic,” his Envy says softly, Kimblee squeezes his hand and he finds that it is being squeezed back. His darling, his dearest Envy, his wife, returns his gesture, and Kimblee is nothing if not thrilled at the prospect. He smiles a little wider as the thought crosses his head.

“I never expected anyone would have ever marked my head and signed my heart the way you have, my Envy. I could only act accordingly to the way you’ve claimed me.”

“Claimed you?” Envy asks it a little incredulously. “I did not know such a man like you had any ability to be claimed.”

Kimblee watches as his darling takes a sip from his glass. His eyelids have fluttered open most of the way now, he can see his Envy’s are about half-lidded themselves, they seem to be growing only heavier on that pretty face. He's still smiling, he never stopped, it’s so hard to when his precious wife looks so adorable, Kimblee realizes he must be getting sleepy so his next words cut straight to the point.

“Neither did I until I realized I already was. The first time I looked at you I knew there was no going back,” Kimblee says, observing his darling’s face for a reaction of any sort. There’s not much present, but it’s okay, he’ll keep going just so his Envy can hear it. “And the first time you looked at me…” Kimblee lets a soft breath stream through his nose, he can feel the air feather through his nostrils and the sensory of expelling it relaxes him deeply. His hand is still in his Envy’s, though neither of them are squeezing each other, but it’s really okay with Kimblee as he finishes his sentiment with, “I knew I didn’t want to.”

“What is it about me that has swayed you so, Solf? Surely, ah—” Kimblee hears the pause in his darling’s speech, and realizes he is opening his mouth wider, much wider, his lips are stretching and he’s yawning, and oh isn’t that just absolutely adorable?

Sure is, thinks Kimblee, he’s still smiling and he can’t find it in him to stop, not now when his Envy is being so precious without even trying, his foxy little thing is losing his spirit for the night and Kimblee can tell, he realizes he probably won’t get to fuck him tonight but it’s fine by him, because the night he has experienced with his beautiful wife has been nothing short of magical, and Kimblee has said he doesn’t believe in such things now, hasn’t he? He might just have to make an exception, because there’s no other way to describe the effect his darling has had on him as anything other than enchanting. He’s marked Kimblee’s head, scribed on his heart, and with his encapsulating sorcery has transformed him into something he thought he could never be, transmutated his very will and the essence of who he is, and now all Kimblee wants is what he swore he had never wanted in all his life, but his darling’s will is far more powerful as Kimblee is here now and he begs to serve. He lives to serve his Envy, fulfill his every wish, quench his every bit of thirst, sate his every bit of hunger.

Envy could eat him alive and Kimblee would feel nothing but gratitude that he was the one he chose to devour so wholly. But as they sit, his Envy’s appetite seems to have fallen dormant, he’s about half-asleep and Kimblee is simply honored that he has spent so long engaging him in their conversation. Oh, how he loves him so, and there is no doubt in the recesses of Kimblee’s instable mind that it is the one thing he feels that could never, ever change. He loves his Envy, and he thinks he might just love him forever.

“Surely you are not so weak willed,” is what his darling says to finish his sentence, and Kimblee laughs. Perhaps his Envy is a little more awake still than he thought.

“Surely,” Kimblee starts, his smile having grown into a small grin, but it’s continuing to grow wider as he can tell his darling is aptly listening to see what he'll say next, those sleepy violet eyes observe him so prettily and what Kimblee does say next really cannot be helped, by Envy or himself or anyone or anything. “You know what will happen if you continue to tease me.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Kimblee’s mouth falls open as soon as the words leave his Envy’s lips, the homunculus lifts the glass in his hand to his lips and takes a sip, and before either of them can say anything he bursts out laughing all over again, it’s a startling sound but a very pleasant surprise, so pleasant indeed and Kimblee finds himself reaching out to grab their glass from his hand right as its about to slosh over the edge and spill onto that lush green silk that adorns that luscious little body underneath, a pulchritudinous nightgown on the epitome of pulchritude himself, it reminds Kimblee of something he was planning to give to him tonight besides the heated physicality of his devotion but it can afford to wait, it may have to because the last thing Kimblee wants to do is leave where he is right now to go get it, he knows where it is and it will simply stay there until he is ready to gift it to his darling. Until then, he will sit here, and enjoy every delightful second he gets to hear his little stone laugh for him. A sound sweeter than a siren’s song, it’s something that Kimblee feels himself lured by all the same, and it must be his own insanity because in the moment as he starts to weakly laugh too he’s never felt more sane.

Solf J. Kimblee has never felt more sure that despite his near 40 years of life being lived to do one thing and one thing only, that he has finally found his true purpose. He is meant to be at this creature’s side, serve him and dutifully cater to his every request, and give him the fulfillment that he deserves for as long as he shall live. Envy’s time with Kimblee is Kimblee’s forever.

Forever and ever shall Solf J. Kimblee belong to his Envy.

Kimblee takes one last sip from their glass before setting it back down on the table. It’s light, he can feel the intoxication from the wine hitting him heavy now, he’s started to go a little soft though that is not an indicator of anything at all when it comes to his darling seated beside him, one subtle touch in the right place and he’d be stiffening up rock solid all over again, but he’s not counting on it now and its not something that bothers him too much, its fine really because Kimblee feels more than satisfied with how his first night with his new wife has gone. Besides, he can tell his thoughts are starting to run, his ability to think properly in itself is beginning to wear thinner and thinner, he’s not really surprised at all as he finds himself yawning in tandem as he’s leaning back on the couch and wrapping an arm around his darling’s shoulders. He must really not be thinking, and maybe his Envy isn’t either or just maybe, he is, because he realizes soon enough that the sweet thing is leaning against him and snuggling in.

Envy is snuggling with him, and Kimblee has never felt his heart flutter so fervently. He feels a heat spreading throughout his chest, it’s not anything overly intense, not this time, it is simply warm and fuzzy, and it is a feeling that if Kimblee is being honest he doesn’t mind, it’s not something he had any idea he could feel until tonight but he’ll gladly accept being wrong. It’s a lovely feeling, so sweet and lovely just like his beautiful wife, his beautiful wife, and Kimblee could not be any more pleased with where his life has taken him in this moment.

Never in his life did Solf J. Kimblee think he could be such a happy man.

“If you truly desire to know what it is about you that has swayed me so,” Kimblee takes a pause to languidly breathe through his mouth as the hand at his darling’s shoulder wraps around it and holds its position, he’s flexing his fingers on that stark shoulder, sneaking one or two under the strap of his nightgown to see if Envy will stop him. He doesn’t, and Kimblee continues promptly. “In short, it is everything. In length, I could go into great description, but you seem a little tired for meticulous detail. Would I be correct?”

Kimblee can feel Envy is snuggling in closer, so close that their bodies touch side to side now, and he realizes that his head is beginning to fall. It lands, right on Kimblee’s shoulder, and isn’t that just lovely?

Oh, yes indeed, it surely is.

Envy is purring into the side of his neck, and Kimblee can feel himself hardening up but he won’t dare move from where he is now, not even his own deep desire could cause him to disrupt the moment commencing between him and his darling at this point, he does wonder with all the alcohol and ecstasy in his little stone’s artificial nervous system if there is any particular reason he has grown so physical with Kimblee in such a short time, but he won’t question it too much because he’s sure as the pits of hell are deep is not complaining about it.

His Envy isn’t saying anything. The only response Kimblee gets is the sound of his rumbling purr, not that he minds it in the least. He can feel the sensation vibrate against his neck, nothing too intense, rather Kimblee finds it all the more relaxing, it releases tension held in the strain of his muscles and it makes him feel euphorically comfortable, he allows himself to let his eyelids fall heavy, he’s sure his darling’s must be closed all the way now.

“I will tell you all there is to know about me another time, little stone. For now I think you should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

At least one of them may get some rest. Kimblee doesn’t mind that though, it doesn’t bother him in the least. Envy’s breathing has begun to settle, he can tell, his purring has calmed although hasn’t stopped, he smiles just a little as he can feel his face nuzzling against his neck, he’s relaxing into Kimblee now and getting very comfortable, he must be very tired. Kimblee finds his spirits are also dimming, speaking of dimming, the lamplight around them has dulled considerably, Kimblee assumes its growing tired with them and will soon give out.

Soon indeed.

The lamplight which was once surrounding them in its mellow ambiance is now gone, cloaking the living room in what is almost a complete shroud of darkness save for the bit of moonlight glimmering in through the tall windows that line the wall. It illuminates the area around them just enough so Kimblee can see a few steps in front of him, and he realizes that the lamplight is not the only thing that has given out, as he can sense his Envy is unconscious, his head still laying on Kimblee’s shoulder, his breaths shallow and steady as he uses Kimblee as a pillow. Out like a light.

Kimblee smiles, allowing his own eyes to finally close. They don’t stay closed for long, as he can feel his Envy shifting in his sleep, he wonders if maybe he would feel more comfortable laying in a warm, soft bed as opposed to halfway sat up on this couch, Kimblee would lay him so his head rests right on the plushness of pillows and cover his body in cozy, heated blankets, surely he would prefer that, his darling is out cold and as he shifts himself he comes to the conclusion that it’ll take a lot more than that to wake him now. Very well, then.

Kimblee pulls Envy across his lap, his dress hikes up a little as he does so, lush silk pulls right over those luscious thighs, Kimblee could take a peek at what lays a little further underneath if he so desires but something in him can’t bring himself to do it. He lets it rest, just like his darling, he gazes at that sublimely gorgeous face in all its slumbering beauty, and grasps him in his arms securely before standing up. His Envy is heavier than he thought he’d be, is the first thing Kimblee notes, but he himself is not a particularly strong man by means of physics and he’ll make do, he’ll get his precious little stone up the steps and into their bedroom and tuck him in all nice and cozy, he’s stood on his feet now and he takes just one more moment to gaze at the face he loves so much, the only face he could ever love, before he begins to walk with his darling in tow. He’ll clean up their wine on the table tomorrow, but for now he is focused on getting his sweet thing all tucked in and properly rested.

Kimblee makes an effort to dampen the sound of his footsteps on the hard wood floor as he steps through the dining room to the loft, his darling is still fast asleep in his arms as he reaches the stairway. He raises his foot and presses it down on the first step as softly as he can manage, lifting his other one in tandem and stepping down on one higher. He ambulates in no hurry, Kimblee would rather take his time than risk waking his sweet sin cradled in his arms up from his slumber, he’s about a quarter of the way up the steps now and continues at the pace he’s going, he hopes he left the damn bedroom door open.

About halfway up the stairwell Kimblee can feel Envy shift in his arms, he grows a little wide eyed at the thought that he might awaken, stops and waits a second to see, but it is thankfully to no avail as his Envy seems to still be fast asleep, Kimblee wonders if maybe he is dreaming, what could that pretty little head of his be dreaming about? Kimblee wonders indeed, but if his darling desires him to know than perhaps one day he will tell him. Kimblee’s about three quarters up the stairs now, he’s walking slow but steady in his footsteps, he’s realized its better that way because then they don’t creak, he’s close to rounding the top of the stairwell, he’s getting closer, he is, and in the moment of truth as Kimblee climbs the last step he sees he did, in fact, leave the door open.

Maybe, just maybe, there is something listening to Kimblee’s prayers. If there is, he decides he won’t push it, and turns the corner to enter the bedroom.

The candles are still lit, and Kimblee is grateful, as they provide enough light for him to see what he is doing. He’s got his darling hoisted a little higher in his arms as he approaches the bed, the candlelight illuminates his face and he glows, he’s glowing, he looks so damn beautiful that Kimblee could faint, he might just, but he’s got to get his Envy situated first of all and then he can pass out at his side. His feet are just about touching the box spring of the bed as he begins to carefully lower the sleeping homunculus in his arms down onto the mattress, it’ll be hard to get him under the comforter without disturbing him so he’ll settle for laying the blanket that lays at the foot of the bed on top of him, he’s got him laid flat on the mattress now and not too hastily does he pull his arms out from underneath his sleeping frame, he’s laid him more towards the center of the bed which leaves Kimblee himself not a whole lot of room, but its fine, okay, alright even because if his darling is comfortable than Kimblee is at ease. He’ll lay down where he lays and snuggle in beside him, wrap him up in his arms and not let him go until he so desires to be released, and for the first time in near 40 years Solf J. Kimblee may actually get some well enough rest. He reaches for the soft throw blanket laying neatly folded by his darling’s bare feet, he’s still got his shoes on and will have to kick them off before he climbs in with him, he’s taking the edges of the blanket in between his fingertips and pulling it up over the body of his sin, his sweet, sleeping little sin, he looks so precious as his chest rises and falls so soft and Kimblee makes sure he is snug before sitting down on the edge of the mattress and bending to unzip his combat boots. He gently kicks them to the side, pulls his socks off along with them, and at last takes his ponytail by its base and begins to unwrap his hair tie. He situates it around his wrist, letting his long black hair fall to his back as he gingerly stands once more to blow out their candles. He starts with the one on the dresser and finishes with the one on the bedside table, leaving the room in complete darkness except for the glimmer of moonlight that creeps through the windows. It provides a natural sort of ambience, and Kimblee finds that in his own state of drowsiness that it is something he can very much appreciate. With that, Kimblee takes a few muted steps towards the bed for what he intends to be the last time tonight, he can feel himself growing dozy just at the thought, and places a knee on the mattress before hitching his other leg up and situating himself on the bed. He grasps ahold of the edge of the blanket, hoping his darling isn’t a hog when it comes to them, but if he is then it’s a sacrifice Kimblee is willing to make. There is nothing that could sound better to him than falling asleep next to his beautiful wife, his beloved Envy, and the rest will be what it is.

With that, Kimblee tucks himself in next to his darling, snuggles in close to him but not close enough to disturb him, and closes his eyes. The pillows beneath their heads are soft, the blanket that covers their bodies is warm, and as Kimblee drifts off to sleep he wonders if he will dream about something more beautiful than death.

Kimblee is not sure, but he has a good feeling, and he is sanguinely optimistic about his chances.