One Thousand Words

Envy shifted above his little blond captive—(my captive, my prize, my pet, mine, my, me... me as I was supposed to be, what I was before, before Father left, and I will take back what this little bastard took without knowing...)—-brushing their noses together and stealing the human's breath away like a malignant cat lingering over a baby's lips, sucking up the scent of his suffering.

Ed flushed hotly, trying desperately to twist away from the too-intimate closeness, but the Sin was everywhere; he was Ed's world now, and he wanted Ed to realize that he would not stop until there was nothing but what existed between them; there was nothing outside the curtain of dark hair which fell around the alchemist, tickling against his face and shoulders and blocking his view of the rest of the room; there was nothing, nothing, nothing... nothing but Envy. His amber eyes flashed as he squirmed, but Envy could see—could smell—the tears pooling in them, making them bright, and the boy whimpered prettily into the gag stuffed into his mouth.

Envy was no poet—one could say that he lacked a poet's soul—but he did recognize beauty when he saw it, and oh, Edward was beautiful, beautiful now most of all, when he was helpless and aware of his helplessness, as the hair-fine cracks began to splinter through him—he was breaking so slowly, so exquisitely that it would have taken Envy's breath away had he actually had to breathe—and the homunculus smiled slowly in delight against his alchemist's parted lips, feeling them quiver at the touch.

"A thousand words could not describe how utterly perfect you are right now, in this last moment..." Envy breathed, and Ed's eyes widened; the gag did not muffle his frightened yip, the restraints holding him in place did not budge as he struggled frantic and futile.

Envy wrapped a hand around Ed's throat and squeezed down unmercifully.