His body was surprisingly human. Improved through alchemy, but convincing. The forbidden arts had created his form carefully, mimicking biological details to the heat of his skin, every inhale-exhale, and the slightly hastened beating of that unnecessary heart. His reaction to being touched. So few things gave him away-- his eyes, the faint chemical taste of his mouth. His powers, if he chose to use them. But for a dead thing, for sack of organs held together only by flawed Philosopher's stones, he was a clever imitation of warm, throbbing life.

His kisses were barely that, all tongue and sharp monster teeth. He thrived on the taste of violence. Demanded it with his mouth. You didn't live four hundred years without learning intimately what your body craved, and oh, how this sin knew how to crave. Of all of them, he was the worst. Wrath, lust, pride, and greed, all wrapped in shapechanging flesh. A hateful little package.

But the darkness reflected in his eyes now wasn't hate. It was more dangerous than that. It was the desire to possess.

"You're not worried at all, are you?" the homunculus mused, his voice all deceptive velvet. He slid into the Corinthian's chair as he spoke, settling on top of his legs. With deft and deadly hands, Envy undid the front of his own pants. "That I'll try something. Are you really that powerful, or do you just want it that badly?"