Double Date

Perhaps this was what they called fashionably late, but of course, her kind arrived exactly when one intended to.

Heels clacking on the pavement, Lust slowed her brisk steps to a more relaxed stroll as she approached the café's edge. Her favourite table lay unoccupied, tucked under the pleasant white canopies, casting dotted shadows over the patrons.

Well, not entirely unoccupied.

The lone cup of tea upon it oozed steam like sighs in the icy air. Though a few days shy of the official start of spring, she would have hoped for something a little milder for her assignation. Better that than sit inside and endure something more lingering.

She settled into her seat, and at the table opposite perched the black spot of him, a dash of red at his neck, sharp dressed, new suit. Oh, how he spoiled her.

Lust glanced away, the only greeting she could afford, burrowing a little into the furred trim of her equally new coat. The snowy fibres pricked her neck and her cheeks; she doubted she'd take it off, given the weather. Her half-lidded eyes caught a smirk behind his steepling fingers, laugh going unheard.

They needed nothing more; such was the dance of their routines, perfected by the centuries. Humans saw nothing amiss, as ever. They played their parts, over and over again 'til they could seep back into the dark and—oh.

Her prey's blander shadow covered her, all sweetness and apologies.

Fashionably late, indeed.

She just waved him to his seat with one hand and lifted the teacup to her lips with the other. Her black gloves shimmered in the weak, orange light.

Lust sipped, eyes closed, enjoying the near sickly sweetness of the tea (how the others stood more than a single sugar cube she'd never know) before it fizzled out beneath the scalding heat. She should come here more often. Still, the burn was almost pleasant; it inflamed that low, prowling desire in her, sudden and wanting. She drowned it with a deeper gulp. Not yet…

Over the edge she watched the boy smile, flushing even, and past him her brother appraised the human, flashing her a glance and a tiny tilt of his head that asked This one?

The boy called over a waitress, requesting something soft and light, a slice of cake each to fritter the minutes on. Several more plates filled the table, his easy smile masking the nervousness in his eyes, searching hers for something that could pique her interest. She asked him about his work – as if there was anything else rolling around in his head – encouraging the tales of his most flourishing career. Foolish creatures, as predictable and unchanging as the seasons, and from those ancient enough concepts Lust plucked her aliases like flowers, and wore them as such.

"Is your birthday soon?" He said between mouthfuls of icing, bashfully, no doubt because of her current namesake. So daring, daring little military pup who knew nothing and knew too much. Definitely, if Envy's rants were to be believed, his bursts of calling her hag aside.

"It's rather rude to ask a lady her age." She teased, smile a touch sharper.

"I jus' wanna buy you something nice before I leave…"

Oh yes, the trenches called for him, thirsting for the blood of fools, creating the Crest drip by drip. She dwelled on it while the human thought of something new to ramble about. A shiver ran through her, naught but a chill from the absent spring. The breeze ruffled her hair.

All but drowning in his insipid chatter, the homunculus gazed somewhere over his shoulder, across the tables and into glazed, bottomless eyes that no longer saw her. He'd wilted only slightly, resting on his elbows, merely daydreaming. Did he see their Father instead, basking in his glory while she suffered here? Shame. But she'd have her answer soon enough.

Lust popped the last speck of sponge cake into her mouth, fork scraping her teeth with a shrill, ugly sound. The butter knife had barely managed to slice through it, more tearing it apart. Her tongue passed over her lips. Soon, soon enough…

With it gone, she took a bite of the strawberry that remained, a drop of juice escaping, dribbling down. She dabbed her mouth, blushing at the indignity. He chuckled, making way more of a mess with his strawberry, painfully obvious. Stupid boy.

A flicker of movement drew her away again, her brother stirring, reaching for his teacup. It took only the single glimpse of his shining, violet eyes to hers; she needn't see the nod behind his hurried sips, fingers twitching around the porcelain handle.

Ah, Father bade them, and so they must obey.

The elder pushed his cup aside, leaving a 500 cenz coin in his place before dashing off in his put-on, boyish way. Even so, his…eagerness did not go unnoticed. Lust knew where he'd wait for her, his casing sprawled and dozing, and shadow coiled endlessly inside him, outside him, everywhere.

Her still blunt fingers scraped over her own teacup. It had to be now.

"It's getting late, isn't it?" Lust kept her eyes downcast, suddenly demure and uncertain. "I must be going."

A flutter of her lashes was enough, the whelp standing to offer his hand; it was so very unsafe to be travelling alone this late, he said, because of course he did. Why, Barry had risen from his hibernation not a week prior, terribly dangerous business. It woke so noble an ideal in the whelp's heart, as if good intentions could shield from his cleaver. The Chopper was another matter, for another time. She pushed him from her mind.

Those thoughts rang in the minds of the populace, it seemed, the streets oddly – conveniently – barren for the time of day. Lust murmured something about the hotel, leading him down a side street, she hardly heard herself beneath the ringing in her ears. His even breaths made sweet little clouds, she yearned for more.

The red sun dipping behind them, her shadow grew as a long streak through the alley, painting the walls like a tiger's stripes. At least her shadow could be taller than him; even with her heels, she didn't reach past his shoulders.

Stepping into the shadow, her brother's aura almost crushed them, unmoving, unseeing for now, but watching her all the same. The desire coiled tight enough to snap in her. Only a little farther, she told herself, she could surely control herself enough to make it to the hotel...

She couldn't.

All at once she dragged him by the arm, dashing ahead and slamming him into the wall, pressed close, a finger ghosting over his lips, shushing him. The nervousness flickered in his eyes again, trying to smile.

She returned it, obsidian tresses bouncing atop her shoulders, so much sharper, darker, growing sharper still with her lengthening claws as she thrust them into his side. The first, strangled scream was always the sweetest, all confusion and betrayal and pain, but inside she knew she could afford no more. He mustn't run his mouth here and ruin her fun, her spare hand clamping over it.

Her nails flexed inside him, a pretty stain blooming outside while he panted like a dog, heating her palm with his pathetic whines, until something smooth and cold and watery spilled through her fingers, the shadow covering his mouth completely. More darkness reached out into the amber light, binding the human's ankles and wrists in effortless loops, and ventured no further. White flashes drew strings of blood, though none of it reached the floor.

At last.

She can't help herself, pushing onto the very tips of her toes and crushing her lips to him, forceful, fiery, as if to impart the unceasing fire in her heart to him. Still so cold…

Lust drew her spears out almost completely, the edges catching on the torn fibres of his jacket, only to shove them back in at a deeper angle. She felt only the wondrous hum of his stifled shrieks and moans on her lips and the hot trembles around her fingers. They moved as one, the shadow constricting in the line between their bodies, absorbing the sounds, sucking up the blood they wrung from him, together. A slither of the iron taste bubbled in the shade on her tongue, trickling out her mouth like the strawberry juice. Her own obscene moan hummed in her throat and he, not the human, shivered a little under her. Pride steadied her; he wound up her legs like vines, though his teeth were but teasing nibbles over her 'skin'.

Her now free hand lengthened, the index and middle fingers finding a lung apiece to shred. The breath leaked from him, coming out in quick, desperate little huffs as he slumped against the wall, held up only by their shade and spears.

Lust pulled away to admire their work, her magenta eyes alight. She sighed, smudging the blood on her lip with her spare hand, some smearing onto her cheek.

Oh, he was close, so close, eyes rolling skyward under sagging lids. How dare he look away! As quick as thinking, she snatched their prey lower with one hand, down to her. The last thing he'd see would be her. Her other hand held firm, buried deep, deep in his belly, slicing upwards as she dragged him down.

The tearing bass of her brother's laugh poured from the wall, he understood. His tiny claws slipped over the human's scalp and up his face, holding open his eyes, licking up their prey's tears as she plunged her slickened spears in again, and again, and again…

The tremors had long since ceased when Lust finally withdrew, lances splayed, another exquisite spray falling over her. She gasped, and gasped, teetering backwards until she smacked the wall opposite, slowly sinking down, and striking the path with a wet thump.

She must have looked a mess, she thought, a beautiful, beautiful mess; blood splashed over her like wine, her crimson lances gleaming and dripping in the rays of the dying sun, again matching the undersides of her gloves, her nodes. She was perfect…

He was perfect, too. The darkness quivered, forming clusters of eyes like the stars, shimmering and ancient, with the ink of his pupils spattered across them, all wide and round as teardrops. Dimly, she wondered if her own were so wide.

"Enjoy that?" It's all she could manage amid the red haze in her head, laughing, breathless. He didn't mind her trembles, burbling along the floor to her. She felt his so many hands skittering over the wall behind her, wrapping her waist, warm.

"Always."

His tendrils undulated like they were sighing, watching the rise and fall of her ouroboros tattoo, and the pleasing spasms at her still pointed fingertips. They raked more gouges into the path.

She doesn't retract them. They were her true self, as much as his. Though…here again, sprawled in the street, part of Lust longed to clutch the vessel close to her, tight enough to swallow its pretty gasps, like the scarlet dawn so long ago, that held only their breaths. Lust let the memory wash over her, his older shape pressed against her as they bathed in the magnificence of their Crest. The shadow squeezed. Was he thinking about back then as well?

Pride's uniform teeth clicked together, so soft it bordered on inaudible.

"So good of you to suggest this, sister mine." He purred through closed mouths and narrowed eyes. "But now," his hands flicked idly towards the gorgeous mess of her…their doing, "what are we to do with this one?"

"Mmm…" Lust's red-tipped talons raked languid lines through the pools of him, losing their bloodstains in them. "Well, we wouldn't want anyone mistaking it for Barry's work…

"Barry!" He cried, mouths falling open as if gasping. His tendrils twisted over her legs again, nibbling more teasing nips into her. "You insult us both. The Butcher wishes for such perfection…"

"I know," Lust thought on their brief observances of him, thrilling anew in excitement and disgust both, "but you know how humans are. They'll think it's him."

"Then they shall have nothing to pore over..." He rumbled deep in his shadow, echoing along from its source so far from her. The truer meaning shone in his eyes, they met and shimmered together.

The Chopper won't take their kill from them.

Smiling a softer smile and managing to push herself up, Lust watched her brother converge upon what remained of the human, half musing on how to explain him away in a more 'official' manner. Perhaps they'd send Envy in his place; their little brother could do with the week's vacation, anyway.

Lust could discuss it with him later, she supposed, swiping the remaining dregs of blood from her dress and her hair. She must look presentable, of course, for the night was young, and their date far from over.