Expectations
Expectations
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Title: style='font-family:Verdana;color:black;mso-ansi-language:EN'>Expectations.
Fandom:
Characters: Envy,
Wrath.
Rating: R.
Gerne: Angst.
Notes: I prompted
Clover to write something, while unknowingly, those words were random in this
drabble. Yes, I'm very much a bitch. I had fun with this, though.
His breath hitched and his hips buckled unconsciously. Envy grinned and Wrath
hated him for it. Hated him for touching and knowing how to touch, for making
those stupid noises as he moved, for using that stupid tongue to taste him.
Wrath hated it when Envy touched the trice damned mark on the sole of his feet,
making him arch back off the bed, making sounds that ashamed him.
Envy grinned, violet eyes flashing, hair wild, pressing and pulling and
twisting and delighting himself when the smaller homunculus cried out or
buckled against him. He delighted in the play of light across Wrath's face, the
ripping of growing muscle under his fingers, the buzz of power under the skin.
He delighted himself in the control he could extract on the pitiful
child-monster, on how much he hated him and what he did to him, yet craved it
desperately.
Dante controlled them all in the end, with her petty schemes and her wish for
revenge, for her obsession with her broken heart and their own to obtain a
soul. She controlled them, used them as she saw fit and discarded them as
useless after a while... like Lust.
Envy closed his eyes and pushed harder, bringing pain as well as pleasure,
because he hated that feeling of unease, the cold in the pit of his stomach
that told him he would never be as much as Dante was, that he would never
obtain that power, that he would never kill his father... that that stupidly
short idiot of a blonde would always be better than him. No one held power as
Dante did, no one held their destinies so surely as Dante did, and for that
Envy hated her and loved and desired what was hers.
But Wrath was his, only his, no one got to see him as he did, got to touch him
as he did. Wrath only screamed his name in that delightful mix of hatred and
desperation, and only he got to see the small tears falling, to hear the soft
whimpers.
It would all fade away of course, and Wrath would go back to wandering as Envy
would bow to Dante again. Everything ended, even them, and Envy told himself he
was not disappointed about it.
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