…This is the longest oneshot I have ever written.
Michi, consider this a get-well-gift that may or may not leave you hot under the collar.
And I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell in a handbasket…with my muse laughing maniacally all the way, of course.
You see, Michi (you awesome person, you!) this is what happens when, after staying up until midnight, I suddenly remember a conversation we had quite awhile back about Train and Edward and their similarities. I shortly remembered that you've been sick lately (sniffle), and then decided to work on that idea.
…At which point I realized that said idea was pretty much just characters involved in mindless love-making. And that it made no sense for two FMA characters to even be in Black Cat in the first place.
Hence, you lucky duck, you get PLOT AND YAOI ALL AT ONCE. And no, I didn't plan for this to be M-rated. It just…decided that on its own.
Decadence
By
Godell
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or Black Cat, only this fic.
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The notes of the Waltz of the Flowers seemed to caress and slide off their bodies, easily sculpting their once coarse, simple movements into something more refined.
Creed smiled as Envy leaned forward in his seat, his countenance no longer sleepy and bored, like a green-haired jungle cat, but instead alert and enthralled.
The suite Creed had "obtained" for the evening was just as lavish as he had promised them: soft, comfortable velvet chairs, soft carpets that seemed to mold to your feet, silk drapes, fine wine, and a bed large enough to hold all four of them comfortably, with gold silk sheets and countless pillows.
At the moment, Train and Edward were putting the bed to very good use.
"Seems like déjà vu, huh?" Envy asked Creed, his eyes never leaving the scene before them.
"What do you mean?" Creed asked, idly resting his hand on Envy's.
"That play we went to…isn't it similar to the play we saw when we first met?"
Creed grinned. "I liked this one better."
Edward snickered as Train kissed down his jaw-line. "It's better watching things with us, right?"
Creed rolled his eyes as Train chuckled mischievously. "I was watching. You and Train were…"
Train twirled a lock of Edward's hair between his fingers, eyebrows raised. "No complaining, Creed. You had fun, admit it."
Creed shrugged. "I suppose a little decadence never hurt anyone."
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Creed had met Envy at the theatre located near the outskirts of yet another artsy of yet another town.
Edward had been there too—a sullen, morose shadow in comparison to Envy's cool delight. They had sat next to Creed (Envy was closest), their knees brushing against each other, the expressions akin to that of an angel and a demon awaiting Judgment Day. Their clothes—while perfectly acceptable at a chapel of the Arts—were slightly disheveled, and covered with the slightest hint of dust, as though they had had a struggle, or had traveled a great distance.
Creed had felt that the pale one's hair was only just acceptable for such a classy situation: a vibrant shade of green, it was tied back in a ponytail with a black ribbon, as was the custom of aristocratic class. He had also wished that the short, blond one wouldn't slouch in his seat—it made him look even shorter than he was already.
Then the show had begun, and Creed had put them out of his mind.
Soon, however, it became apparent that Creed was not the only connoisseur.
The green-haired one whispered to the blond, his voice condescending "I can see the wires. I thought this was a big-budget deal."
"Just relax," the blond said curtly. "And be thankful that we actually got something from that last bounty. You're not supposed to kill people anymore—unless you weren't paying attention to the Gate. Dead bodies are dead weight on our bank account, remember that?"
Creed watched the actor rise into the sky, hidden from view, and thought that he saw a brief silver sheen dangling from the man's arm.
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Edward's hair tie had been unwound since his second glass of wine, and his golden-blond hair spread out over the pillow like a river of precious metal. His eyes—an unmarred gold different from Train's (though less pleasing to Creed's taste)—were half-closed, hazy with wine and lust.
Train was leaning over Edward, a small, cocky grin on his face as his hands rested on Edward's shoulders. His lips brushed Edward's ear, and he began whispering so softly that Creed could barely make out the words. Edward's lips parted, and his breathing began to grow harsh and quick.
"Well done," Envy murmured appreciatively, his grin widening. He turned to Creed, who couldn't help but grin in return. "Want to know what he said?"
Creed was always surprised at how good Envy's hearing was—but then, he was a Homunculus, with all the special biological adjustments that implied.
"I think I can guess," Creed replied with a chuckle as Train crafted a love mark on Edward's tanned chest.
Edward's metal hand reached up to grab Train's shoulder, the silvery sheen creating a warm affect in the soft light of the room. Creed wished he didn't have to blink, that he could savor the look on Train's face as he took Edward's hand and placed a chaste but meaningful kiss on the steel digits.
Creed chuckled again. "Yes, I think I can guess perfectly."
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During the intermission, Creed had stepped outside to enjoy the night air.
The other theatergoers were milling around, talking, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings to their lovers. Creed had wished that Train had come with him. But it had been Train's turn to go to work, at the bar where they were momentarily employed. He knew Train wouldn't have sat through the entire play anyway—there was too much political intrigue in the plot.
It had felt so strange in the beginning: Creed and Train had gone from being partners and lovers, to enemies, then to partners again. Creed was still shocked to find Train lying beside him in the morning, his partner's eyes closed in blissful sleep.
So Creed had enjoyed the night on his own, watching the moonlight illuminate the opera glasses and the dark cobblestones at his feet.
"Envy, you can talk to the actors later. Just—"
Creed then turned his head to see the blond youth and green-haired man he had noted before walking quickly out the door of the theatre. The green-haired young man had been scowling, his hands clenched into fists. The blond was looking equally annoyed, as though his companion wasn't behaving quite as well as he should have.
They had reminded Creed of his relationship with Train in the past—always trying to help him grow, but somehow never getting very far.
It was that thought that had propelled him to discover the green-haired one's malcontent.
"Did something about the play not suit your tastes?" Creed had asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
The two young men had stiffened, looking ready to fight…until Creed politely tipped his top hat.
"I didn't mean to intrude. If you want, I'll leave you two alone."
The green-haired one's lips curled into a mocking smile. "It's not obvious?"
Creed chuckled and shrugged. "If you mean the terribly-crafted backdrop, the horribly-conducted music, and the appalling acting, then yes, the issues are obvious."
The green-haired man threw his head back and laughed with coarse glee, while his companion cracked a smile. "Yeah, you hit the nail on the head! You're the first one besides the Pipsqueak and I to get it!"
The blond-haired man snarled "Envy, for the last time, I'm not small! And I'm still growing!"
Creed hadn't been able to hold back his pleased laughter. "Such a quick response. Have you known each other long?"
The green-haired man—Envy—had smirked and shrugged. "You could say that. By the way, this…Pipsqueak here is called Edward. You could say he's my traveling companion."
"We're…not from around here." Edward had added, suddenly looking wary.
Creed had raised an eyebrow at that phrasing. "Oh? Very interesting. I'm not from around here either. I'm Creed Diskenth." He had then bowed formally, pleased at the approving look on Envy's face.
"You're a swordsman," Envy had said, one dark eyebrow raised.
Creed had smiled. "You seem to be the type to use your legs more."
"Yeah, I'm good at using my legs well. Ed is too." The tone in Envy's voice had suggested he and Edward were talented in more than just battle.
"I have a traveling companion as well. As it happens, we were planning on leaving town soon. Would you two like to meet for drinks sometime?"
Edward had grinned, and Creed marveled at the striking similarity to Train's smile. "Sure. Know of any place good?"
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Creed was broken out of his reverie by Envy's lips on his.
Envy grinned and pointed to the two men on the bed. "Ed's glad you thought this up, it seems. It's a nice break for him."
Creed knew from experience that Envy wasn't a gentle lover. He silently praised Edward for having walked beside him through three years' worth of dusty, barren roads. He often wondered what exactly prompted the two to even become lovers in the first place, and he always reached the same conclusion—one that didn't make much sense.
"So, what's your plan?" Creed asked lazily, reclining in his seat as Envy settled into his lap, arms wrapped around him in mimicry of a pair of normal lovers.
Envy shrugged.
Creed rolled his eyes and leaned forward to kiss him. "Liar," he whispered, as Envy cut off his words with a passionate kiss that tasted of wine and the toffee he had eaten for dessert.
He knew Envy too well to be fooled by his casual actions.
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The first time Creed had introduced Train to them, Envy's eyes had widened just the slightest fraction.
Creed had to admit he had felt more than a little smug—after all, Train was one of those lucky people who hit twenty-six and never seemed to grow any older. His golden eyes were a shade lighter than Edward's, looking almost apple green in comparison.
"So, these are the guys you met yesterday, huh? Pretty cool." Train grinned and held out his hand. "I'm Train Heartnet, nice to meet you."
He had looked good in his bartending uniform: a white dress shirt, black waistcoat and trousers with shiny black leather shoes.
Edward had taken Train's hand first, grinning as well. "I'm Ed Elric. This is Envy. Nice to meet you, too." Checking out the bar, he had asked "Got any orange pop?"
Train had nodded, his gaze flicking to Creed for an instant—he had known Creed well enough to know what he would like. "Bottle or glass?"
"Bottle." Envy and Ed had replied simultaneously, their grins widening.
Train had raised an eyebrow. "Just the one?"
Envy had settled himself comfortably on a stool at the bar, crossing his legs at the knees in a decidedly feminine gesture. The clothes he had worn that day had seemed strange to Creed—a black sleeveless top cut at the midriff and a black skort that seemed to change color when he moved. Was the fabric black, blue, or wine purple?
Creed soon learned that Envy was more chameleon than man.
"We share lots of things," Envy had said coolly, his eyes half-lidded as Train stepped behind the bar to grab the bottle. "Just like you and Creed, here."
Train had halted in the middle of handing Edward the neon-orange bottle, ice cold with condensation misting the glass. "How'd you know?"
Envy had laughed, snatched the bottle—Creed had been irritated at his rudeness—and popped it open without a second thought. "Your movements match. When you step forward, he does too. When he drums his fingers on the table"—he had pointed lazily at Creed, who forced his fingers to stay flat on the dark oak surface—"you tap your foot. When he breathes in, you breathe out."
Creed had marveled at the way Envy pulled Edward closer and had easily poured the soda into his mouth—just enough so that Edward wouldn't choke. Edward's lips had curled at the action (perhaps the bubbles had been tickling his throat) and swallowed, eyes half-lidded.
"We've got quite a lot in common," Envy had said, his lips stretching into a sharp grin. "I think this'll be fun."
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Creed enjoyed being right—especially when it came to Envy.
In many ways, the way they brought pleasure to others was quite similar, and yet quite different. Envy teased and tormented before settling into a series of harsh, fast movements with no true preparation. Creed teased and tormented with exasperating patience before bringing satisfaction.
It made their sessions…unique.
Creed easily tugged off his shirt.
Creed grinned in amusement when Train and Edward stopped moving and watched as Envy's fingers trailed down Creed's chest, touching and testing until Creed's hands clutched the armrests. Soon Envy's fingers swirled briefly across Creed's stomach in a light tickling motion that caused him to laugh softly.
He was abruptly aware of Train standing beside him, his body radiating the casual sensuality he had obtained from two years as a Sweeper. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes were dark and provocative (something Creed could never get enough of), and Creed was once again positive that bringing Envy and Edward into their two-man circle of companionship was a stroke of genius.
"Hey," Train said playfully, tilting Creed's head up to better kiss him, "what about me?"
Creed smiled as he pulled Train close for a kiss, aware that Edward was caressing Envy's eager body with barely a trace of gentleness.
"That sounds familiar…"
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"What about me?" had been a phrase used from the very beginning.
In the beginning—after they had conglomerated into a single unit of travelers, found an inn to stay at, and nearly drank themselves into a stupor—Creed and Train had watched as Edward and Envy toppled into bed, the latter playing the role of drunkard, the former living it.
But then, Creed and Train had been drunk too, which made the whole scenario even more bizarre.
Creed would always remember the feeling of astonishment that crawled through his body when Envy easily peeled Edward's simple traveling clothes away, revealing his prosthetic limbs for the first time.
He would always remember the way Envy had smiled when Edward stared unblinkingly at him, completely, beautifully vulnerable.
Creed had expected the teasing that Envy performed—the light, almost tickling touches on Edward's skin, the mocking words ("You know, Pipsqueak, if I'd known you like having an audience before, I'd have done this a long time ago"), and the way Edward had responded. His eyes had grown unfocused, his skin had grown sweaty and red, his hands were clutching at Envy's hair as though they were the only things keeping him sane.
And then suddenly, their bodies had become nothing but a frenzied mass of limbs and hitched, frantic breathing.
Creed had heard Train's breathing catch at the primal way Envy and Edward "made love"—the word hardly applied—and heard him whisper "That's what we could have been."
"What do you—" Creed had begun, but Edward's voice had called from the bed, not wounded or teary-eyed, but strangely calm and collected, though a bit slurred:
"Whatchabout you two? You gonna go at it?"
Creed and Train had turned to each other, eyes wide. After seeing that display of…well, "pseudo-affection"…
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"Y'know, Creed, you really should stop zoning out. It's no fun if you're not into it," Train complained playfully.
"Sorry," Creed said easily, sighing with pleasure as Edward exchanged places with Envy, the cool feel of metal on sensitive skin truly incredible. "Just having a…m-moment of déjà vu."
Train shrugged and went to work, finding exactly the right spot to make Creed's eyes close in delight. He was always the most beautiful, in Creed's opinion—he always had been.
Creed traced Envy's jaw-line, smiling at the look on his face. It was a treat to discover what excited the Homunculus—Envy could figure out a person's preferences in a heartbeat.
"A little decadence never hurt anyone," Train murmured, grinning from ear to ear.
Creed trailed his free hand down Train's chest. Envy let out a sigh of pleasure and sprawled out beside Edward, his hands grasping and holding what he felt like taking for himself.
Edward's eyes widened abruptly, and Creed laughed at Envy's smug expression.
"I have to agree with you, Train," Creed replied, thoroughly pleased with the evening's events.