FicWad

Conduction
by Melissa the Sheep

"You know, regenerating after your explosions isn't my only talent." Greed/Kimbley. Smut!

Birthday present for pinstripesuit.



It's a miserable outside. The sun is beating down, and the air is heavy with the coy promise of rain. There have been no customers at the Devil's Nest all day.

Kimbley can't stand heat like this any more. He wondered how he tolerated it, when he was a younger man--back then, he even preferred the weather at South Headquarters to the cool arid climate back home. But now it's too much. Even sitting still and reading, even in the relative cool of the bar, even with his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, he can still feel the sweat trickling down his neck.

Across the room from Kimbley's table, Greed's lackeys are scattered around the couches, swapping war stories and arguing with each other about the details. Kimbley shifts restlessly in his seat. The air in here is too stagnant, too full of those freaks' idle chatter. His attention is wavering in the heat, and he finds himself reading the same sentence over and over.

He leaves the alchemy text lying open on the table, and heads for the rooms upstairs. Greed said something about an electric fan yesterday--if Greed really has one, maybe Kimbley can take advantage of it.

When Kimbley pushes the door open, he finds Greed sprawled on top of the bed, stripped down to a pair of powder blue shorts, torso unshielded. One arm dangles over the side of the bed, and Greed's hand clutches the neck of a liquor bottle. His vest and pants and boots are scattered around the floor. The room is half dark, curtains closed against the late afternoon sunlight--the window is open behind the curtains, though, and there's a slight breeze. There's no electric fan in sight.

Greed smiles lazily at him. "Hello, lovely."

"Hello. What happened to that electric fan of yours?"

Greed waves his free hand vaguely. "Don't have it yet. Had to order it from Central."

"Ah," says Kimbley.

"Stay anyway," Greed invites. He pats the bed beside him.

There's nothing better to do here, and it's little cooler elsewhere in the Devil's Nest, so Kimbley shrugs. He sits down on the edge of the bed to pull off his shoes and his socks, then stretches out beside Greed, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Care for a drink?" Greed holds the bottle toward him. The liquor smells vaguely medicinal.

Kimbley raises an eyebrow. "No, thank you."

"Suit yourself."

Kimbley is curious about the smell, though. "What is that, exactly?"

"Absinthe," says Greed. "It was my favorite, when I was much younger. This bottle was fucking hard to find--seems it's illegal these days." He takes a swig from the bottle.

"That's the one with hallucinogenic properties, isn't it?" Kimbley asks.

"I don't know." Greed shrugs and takes another drink. Either he doesn't understand what Kimbley was talking about, or he simply doesn't care about these things.

Kimbley lies back on the pillows and closes his eyes, listening to the slosh of the absinthe as Greed keeps on drinking.

He doesn't realize that he's dozed off, until he wakes to the feel of one sharp claw trailing up his bare arm. He mumbles sleepily and opens his eyes.

Greed is grinning at him. "About time. You didn't wake up 'til I changed to claws."

Kimbley frowns. "What are you doing?"

"Touching you, obviously. I really like your arms. You should get out of that suit more often."

"You strip it off of me often enough," Kimbley points out.

"Mmmm, yes," Greed murmurs, slipping a clawed finger underneath one strap of his suspenders, sliding it up and down his chest, brushing his nipple through the fabric of his shirt. "What do you say, darling? The sun's gone down now. Are you up for some fun?"

"It's still too hot," says Kimbley. "Find someone else."

"Come on," says Greed, rolling to lie between his legs. He can feel Greed's cock hardening against him. "It's never too hot for fucking."

Kimbley smiles, rocking his hips against Greed's, laying his hands on the sides of Greed's neck the way he usually does. "But it is too hot for explosions." They take so much more energy. He doesn't recover as quickly as he used to--he's older now, and still not back in shape after those years in prison. After he set Greed off yesterday morning, at the beginning of this heat wave, he felt sick and exhausted for hours.

Greed cocks his head. "In four hundred years, you're only the second person I've known who needed to snuff me every time. How on earth did you get by before you met me?"

Kimbley glances aside and sighs. "I don't have to blow someone up," he admits. It's just so much better if he does. "I didn't always."

"Then let's not, this time," Greed suggests. He squirms impatiently against Kimbley. "You know, regenerating after your explosions isn't my only talent."

Kimbley smirks. "But I'd bet it's your most interesting one."

Greed laughs and leans in to nip at his ear. He can smell the alcohol and herbs on Greed's breath. "Come on, darling," Greed coaxes. He slips his hand--normal flesh now--between their bodies and strokes Kimbley's cock through his trousers. "I want you so much. Do it for me? Please?"

"Ah," Kimbley sighs, because it's true that Greed has other talents. He presses up against Greed's hand.

"Please?" Greed repeats.

"Yes."

Greed grins happily, wriggling above Kimbley as if he can't contain his excitement, and leans down for a quick kiss. His lips taste like the absinthe. His hand leaves Kimbley's cock and slides up to unfasten the ends of Kimbley's suspenders, then the button and zipper on Kimbley's pants.

Kimbley pushes him away for a moment, so he can pull his black undershirt over his head and slide his pants down over his hips and legs. His clothes join Greed's on the floor. He smiles as he watches Greed slithering out of his shorts.

Greed smiles back, hungrily, as his eyes travel up and down Kimbley's naked body.

"Well, come on," says Kimbley. "You wanted some fun."

"I can't admire you for a moment first?" Greed asks, but he reaches for the bedside table anyway to get the little bottle of oil.

Kimbley leans back on the pillows, and moans quietly as Greed presses two slick fingers into him. He reaches down, but Greed's other hand brushes his away, and wraps around Kimbley's cock instead. For several moments, Greed slides his fingers in and out, stroking Kimbley's cock in time.

"Are you ready?" Greed asks.

He nods.

Greed withdraws his fingers and settles between Kimbley's legs, slick cock against his ass. When he pushes in, Kimbley's cock softens in his hand.

"I'm sorry," Greed murmurs. He holds still inside Kimbley, just strokes his cock.

Kimbley curses under his breath. Greed's hand isn't helping.

"Think of explosions," Greed suggests.

"Don't try to be helpful," Kimbley growls. "Just let go and get on with it."

Greed lets go of Kimbley's cock, trails his hand up to stroke the side of Kimbley's face. He thrusts slowly. "I'll suck you off when I'm done, darling."

"Just get on with it," Kimbley repeats. He turns his head to the side and stares at a crack in the wall.

Greed stops stroking his face, and the hand drops to rest on Kimbley's shoulder. For a few moments, Greed just thrusts, groaning, quickening his pace. Kimbley's cock begins to harden again at the feel, but not fully.

"I've got an idea," Greed murmurs.

Kimbley looks up and finds him smiling slyly, then feels the sudden prick of clawtips on his shoulder. They scrape lightly down his chest, and he sucks in his breath sharply. His cock is hard again when Greed's armored hand closes around it.

Greed grins. "I thought that might do the trick."

"I told you not to be helpful," Kimbley says, but he smiles at the feel of Greed's hand, smooth and slightly cooler than its flesh form.

Greed shrugs. "Well, you know I don't listen."

Kimbley moans, and presses his palms to Greed's chest.

"I thought you said it was too hot for explosions," Greed remarks wryly.

"I want to feel your shield. I want to feel it creeping over your body."

Greed nods. The shield creeps up his arms and over his chest. Kimbley can feel the transmutation tingling under his fingers, and it makes him gasp.

"Like that, darling?"

"More," Kimbley groans. He moves his hands up to the sides of Greed's head. "All of you. Your head. Your legs. Your cock."

"I don't like to," says Greed. "It's ugly."

"Please," Kimbley whispers. "For me."

"All right," Greed murmurs. His hand moves faster on Kimbley's cock as he begins to change.

Where their legs touch, Kimbley can feel the reaction sliding up Greed's limbs. Greed's cock turns steely inside him. Greed's ears disappear under Kimbley's hands, and his smug grin shifts into exposed animal fangs.

Alchemy tingles against Kimbley's skin everywhere he's touching Greed. He groans and arches his back. A few more strokes of Greed's hand as he slides his own hands across hard black carbon--and Kimbley comes with a sharp cry.

Greed drops his shield then and thrusts faster. He might look nearly human again, but when he comes, he still snarls like a monster. Like he always does.

"There," says Greed, panting, sweat dripping from his body, cock softening inside Kimbley. "Was it good for you, darling?"

Kimbley sighs happily. "Almost as good as an explosion."

Greed smirks, utterly pleased with himself, as he pulls out and rolls aside. "See? I told you I had other talents."

The curtains rustle. The breeze at night is hardly cooler than it was during the day.

Kimbley stands up and stretches his arms. "Someday," he says, "we should find out if I can blow up that shield."

Greed just grins.



[ End ]

::blithely ignores her own theorizing about the shield and Greed's cock::