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Consecration	By : RiekaDeVolka Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Het - Male/Female Views: 1008 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Consecration
- 1
Title: Consecration.

Pairing(s): Envy/Dante, implied Hohenheim/Dante, gratuitous dash/hint of
Envy/Ed at the end.

Beta: None, sadly, all mistakes my own.

Rating: NC-17.

Genre: Angst.

Warnings: Pseudo-incest. Almost, sorta, maybe non-con.

Feedback: Very welcome, please!

Word Count: 1 002.

Summary: She�s changed again, a new body and a new face, so she comes
back to him to feel alive once more.

Author's Notes: I (blame) dedicate this (on) to hieronymousb. Entirely.
**goes hide away in a corner**

Consecration.

She�s changed again. Envy
knows this, because the scent of death becomes tangible and something within
him � a primitive instinct of self preservation � stirs and keeps him on edge
for whole three days. He spends these days hiding away in the manor, enjoying the
silence and pretending everything�s alright. Then she arrives on the fourth
day, clad with that all too familiar smile, and he knows time has come again.
He never remembers the names of the previous women, those sad fools who end up
losing themselves when they thread into his master�s plans, but that doesn�t
really matter. It�s her face that has changed, not her. Of this, Envy is
sure.

This strange ritual of sorts is scary and
he hates the liquid fear pooling in his veins as he retreats back to his room,
mustering all the aloofness that the quickly raising panic can allow. He�s done
this enough times to know how it works; he�s commited enough mistakes to know
what to avoid, and experience dictates that his face is the first thing that
should change, so he does. His body reshapes itself, the sensation of mercury
condensing as it stretches and enlarges, but he tries not to think about it,
because he hates this face. The one face that has never been his.

She coos him but not him, touching
the illusion he�s wearing, deceptively delicate fingers tracing the hard,
angular features that are so not him, and it makes him sick. But his
hands are busy, though, and he trails the skin under her clothes with the same
insistent movements as any sincere lover would, just as she likes him to. He
doesn�t enjoy the different textures of her new body; the softness hiding under
her breasts, the coarse hair growing between her thighs, the slick heat
beckoning him closer. He doesn�t like any of it, because it�s Dante and it�s human.

All the newborns want to become humans, he
knows, just like Wrath or Lust, but not him. He�s older and wiser, and this�
this wrenched, annoying pleasure is what killed his own desire for
humanity so long ago. Pleasure strong enough to crumble the walls around him,
to make him weak and needy. Humans crave this pleasure, to the point they spend
their pathetic lives awaiting a moment of unadulterated bliss; but he doesn�t
want to be weak, or needy, or vulnerable; he�s Envy and he�s perfect.

�Yes,� She says, while raising her hips
over his body, presenting such a wanton, depraved picture that he almost comes.
It�s thrilling to see her falling so low, to not recognize the body, but know
it�s her slipping around him � though it�s not him. �Just like that�
there.�

Her breathless cries are burnt into his
memory, no two sounds the same, not now, not through four hundred years of this
strange dance of wrongness. She looks almost shy, tasting her new,
virgin body on him, stretching and adjusting as if it were the first time. But
one glance to her eyes proves the same old fire�s glinting on them, that
endless pit that opens at his feet and threatens to swallow him whole until not
even a whisper of him is left.

�Harder!� She bounces on him, so harshly
it would bruise him if he were human, her arms around the head that wasn�t his,
burrowing his nose into her chest. �Harder!� She commands, then
mercilessly presses a finger to one of the nodes on his back.

There�s a loud, keening whimper, and after
a moment of rueful silence, he realizes it came from his throat. Her smile
widens maliciously, and then all her muscles clench. He arches off, hating the
sadistic light in her borrowed eyes and the white hot sensation of release
looming above him. Her movements are jerky now, desperate for a climax he
wishes he could avoid, allowing him to pull back from her constricting embrace.
Sitting back, he looks at her, really looks at her, knowing her need is
rising alongside his, but this is the part of the ritual that�s his.

His hips are thrusting on their own,
burying him deep within her, forcing him to withstand the empowering sensation
of her insides, but as her moves become erratic, he lays back to watch her,
attentive to each line of her body, the sweat gathering on her back, the
delicious shudders that take her breath away. And then she comes, silently as
usual, with a soulless gasp as every part of her new body clenches in
desperation. In that second of bliss, Envy can see her for what she is, though
he dares not to name it. Not when he�s still moving and still fighting back the
inevitable pull of release.

�Change�� She orders in a hiss, twisting
her own breasts with her fingers and glaring down at him, �Change..�

He does, watching her face melt into
ecstasy as he his body becomes small inside her, thinner and far more graceful.
There�s a mirror on the wall, place there especially for moments like this, and
Envy obediently turns to it before he�s even ordered to. When he finally sees
himself, tussled and flushed, he comes with a groan, feeling what little
mockery of life he still possesses flee his grasp.

�There, there,� She�s cuddling him now,
patting his back as she turns them around, �It�s quite alright.�

No, it�s not alright, he wants to
scream, hating the filthy sensation of their bodies pressed together, the
disgusting slickness of their actions cooling on him. He hates the way she�s
almost treating him almost lovingly now and he knows it�s not alright for
things to have felt so damn good while being so fucking shitty.
She continues to touch him gently, dragging his wary mind into unconsciousness.
When he finally gives up, his last thought is, strangely enough, of what he
wants to do to the blond brat as soon as they meet again.

Dante watches him sleep, and smiles
knowingly. Alright� indeed.
- 1
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Consecration