The click of a gun being cocked. A cold voice saying: "Get the fuck away from me, you bastard."
A shame, really, that he has to give up his wonderful little game. He likes tormenting the straw-headed desert lion, he likes seeing those lovely blue eyes snap and spark to life in helpless rage.
That's what does it for him. That incoherent hatred and disgust in those eyes, the gradual, ruthless chipping away of such sweet, endearing innocence. It gives him the most incredible feeling of power and dominancy.
Apparently, the blond man pointing a gun at him right now doesn't particularly think so. And so it goes.
He's getting bodily kicked out now and a bullet wings past his ear. Feral blue eyes glare at him, hurt, angry, wrathful, murderous. The lion is hunting, and it won't stop until he's dead. It's stunning and breathtaking in some primal way. It makes him want to get down on his knees and beg to be abused.
Bizarre how such a mild young man can turn into a jaded, cynical automaton. A farmboy turned sniper. The hideous irony makes his mouth water.
Another bullet flies past, kicking up sand right next to his foot. A cold, rough voice warning him.
He retorts that he could blow up his little lion with no effort. All it would take is a touch, a caress.
Like so many other caresses that he had given the lion. All of them received with the utmost disgust.
In a burst of movement that he completely missed, the barrel of the handgun is pressed up against his jaw. A growled warning, sharp teeth bared savagely. This time, it's clear that the lion isn't frightened anymore.
Words like 'murderer' and 'butcher' are hissed into his ear and he shivers at the intimate contact.
He reminds the lion that the alchemist he follows is also a butcher, a murderer.
A very good point, but somehow lacking against the utter conviction the lion has that the Flame Alchemist has honor.
He would kill to hear his lion say that he has some vestige of honor. However, he's sadly lacking in that trait.
No, the accumulation of such power has bent his mind, warped his perceptions. To him, love is dominance, comfort is cold steel, power is death.
The lion cannot understand, will not understand. He's not sure if it's a conscious decision or if it's some ingrained innocence.
Innocence is cuter, but more frustrating.
A bullet gouges through his shoulder. His lion's... no, Havoc's eyes are cold and emotionless.
"I never want to see you again."
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Er. Yeah. -points- Kimbley. And Havoc. Which is a weird paring, and there's no way to make it fluffy, unlike a lot of pairings. Requested by Torii.
Ah, for people reading and reviewing (I know you're out there!), would people like to see a short fic about the Celestial Alchemist? I have several plotbunnies hopping around in my head, and I just want to know if you would like to read about him.