#7, #13 -- "Riding the Wild Stallion" (RussellXEd, Fullmetal Alchemist)
Pairing/Fandom: RussellXEd, Fullmetal Alchemist
Theme: #7, The Wardrobe, or "I Feel Pretty!" and #13, "The Stables, or Giddyap!"
Title: Riding the Wild Stallion
Author/Artist: Sailor Mac
Disclaimer:Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix and Studio BONES. These characters ain’t mine, I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
RIDING THE WILD STALLION
A Lemon for the 30_Lemons Challenge
(Prompts #7, “The Wardrobe, of ‘I Feel Pretty!’” and #13, “The Stables, or Giddyap!”)
by Sailor Mac
“Brother, come and help me with my costume,” Al called from his bedroom.
Ed paused in the hall, balancing a pile of linens, and said, “Can you wait a moment, Al? Just til I set these down?”
He opened the closet in the hall and shoved the folded sheets in, closing the door. He was amazed that Al had waited this long to put together a costume. Mustang’s party was *tonight*. He’d put together his own outfit days ago.
Walking into his brother’s bedroom, he suddenly stopped short. Al was wearing some kind of long, flowing robe, and was attempting to glue a white beard onto his face.
“I can’t get the beard to stick,” he said. “I tried three different arrays . . .”
Ed frowned. “Al, what the heck are you supposed to be?”
“Florius,” he said. “The ancient god of vegetation. See, here’s my staff . . .” He pointed to a long piece of wood, painted green and twined with vines -- real ones, Ed noticed. Fletcher must have helped with the costume.
“Nobody’s going to know what you’re supposed to be,” Ed grumbled, taking the beard from his brother and laying it on the desk.
“Fletcher knew,” Al said, arranging a few stray strands that were tucked underneath the beard.
“Fletcher’s a plant geek, so he *would* know.” Ed clapped and placed his hands over the beard, there was a flash of purplish-blue light and he picked it up by the edges, gingerly handing it to his brother. “There, that should do it. It’ll just sting a little when you take it off.”
“You don’t seem to *mind* plant geeks most of the time, Brother,” Al said with a sly smile as he started to apply the beard.
Ed folded his arms. “I put up with it from Russell because I *have* to.”
“So what’s *he* wearing for this party?” Al said, continuing to push on the facial hair bit by bit.
Ed swallowed hard. He’d seen part of Russell’s costume in the closet, all right, and it looked alluring indeed. A white ruffled shirt, which seemed cut just low enough in the chest to let a sexy amount of skin show through . . .
That shirt was the main reason he’d stopped complaining about this particular party. He normally hated the military’s parties with a passion, but the thought of seeing Russell in *that* . . .
“I don’t really know yet,” Ed said, quickly.
“He hasn’t told you?” Al said between nearly-closed lips as he pushed on the mustache, so it came out more like “Eee ashn’t tol’ you?”
“Think he wants it to be a surprise,” Ed said. “That’s okay, I haven’t told him about mine either.”
There was the sound of approaching feet, and Russell stuck his head in the bedroom door. “There you are,” he said. “Ed, we just got a call from Mustang . . .”
“Crap, don’t tell me the party’s canceled,” Ed said.
“Not quite,” Russell said. “He asked if you and I would do him a favor. The guys who were supposed to wear the horse costume and entertain the kids couldn’t make it . . .”
“NO.” Ed said. “The answer is definitely no. Let *him* wear it.”
“He said he’d give us extra time off if we do it.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ed said, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Al, will you excuse us a minute?” Russell said, walking into the room and gently pulling Ed’s flesh arm. Ed stumbled into the hall after his lover, grumbling protests.
Once they were in their own room, Russell learned close to him and whispered, “He also said he’d give us extra time alone in the *gym*.”
“Oh, big fat freaking deal.”
“The gym . . . with that *big tub*.” Russell’s fingers gently caressed Ed’s shoulder. “Remember that?”
Ed sucked in his breath when he remembered the hot rendezvous he and Russell had in that tub, one they’d always wanted to repeat but never had a chance to . . . and rumor had it that a water alchemist on-staff had figured out a way to get the water to bubble and swirl around the bathers as they relaxed in the tub . . . he just imagined lying in *that* as Russell’s fingers ran over his naked body . . .
*Damn you, Mustang,* he thought. *You knew just how to push my buttons, didn’t you?*
“Fine, okay,” Ed grumbled. “But I want to wear the costumes we brought once we’re done with the horse thing!”
“I don’t see why we can’t,” Russell said. “It’s only going to be for a half-hour or so.”
“Well, let’s get this over with, then,” Ed said, snatching a garment bag from the door. He thought he’d be getting dressed in his ancient Aquroyan king costume right now. True, it consisted only of a toga, a pair of sandals and a golden head-wreath, but he’d *liked* the way it looked, dammit, and he’d hoped Russell would like it, too . . .
“Oh, and I think I’m going to be the front of the horse,” Russell said as they headed for the stairs.
Ed suddenly whirled around and faced him. “Why *you* in the front?”
“Well, you know. Height reasons.” Russell looked just a wee bit smug there . . . just enough to piss Ed off . . .
“Who’s small enough to get *lost* in that costume?” Ed snapped.
“Hey, nobody’s saying you’ll get *lost* in it, but if the butt end is way higher than the head . . .” Russell said.
Ed let out a growl and stormed out of the house. Roy Mustang had succeeded in literally making a horse’s ass out of him.
* * *
His mood wasn’t lightened any when they were given the actual costume. It felt like it was made of the heaviest material known to humanity. Ed thought they were going to roast to death as Roy -- who was dressed as an old-fashioned dandy in an embroidered waistcoat and numerous frills, which Ed thought suited the bastard’s ego -- pulled the fabric up over his head and began to button it onto the piece of costume worn by Russell.
“All you have to do is dance around for a few minutes,” Roy said. “That’s it.”
“Couldn’t you get any young privates to do this?” Ed grumbled.
“They’re all serving as waiters tonight,” Roy said, cooly, as he tugged another button closed. “And with the amount of guests we’re expecting, I can’t spare any of them.”
“I think I would have rather been a waiter,” Ed said, shifting around, trying to get comfortable. He *hated* enclosed spaces, and they didn’t come much more enclosed than this. Tiny little gaps in the buttoned-up portion in front of him, which let patches of light shine through, were all that kept him from feeling *completely* trapped.
“Maybe you don’t remember what happened the *last* time you were a waiter, Fullmetal,” Roy said. “You were doing fine until you spilled a drink . . .”
“The guy ran into me!” Ed snapped. “And then he gave *me* crap!”
“Nevertheless, that was no reason to fuse his pants to the seat,” Roy said. “I have to say, I was impressed . . . you were 12 years old and it took *two* adult alchemists to undo what you had done.”
Ed heard Russell snicker from the front of the costume. “What?” he shouted. “He *said* that I was *12*!”
“Oh, I’ve never seen you lose your temper,” Russell chuckled. “Never seen it at all.”
“Keep that up, and I’ll fuse that horse’s head to your shirt!” Ed said.
“I’ll lead you into the party,” Roy said, and suddenly, Russell was moving, and Ed had no choice but to move with him, stumbling at first, then walking quickly in order to keep up with the strides of his long legs.
*And dammit, he’d better know where he’s going,* Ed thought, *because I can’t see anything.* All he could see was Russell’s back and his ass . . .
Oh, yes, Ed *did* have a very nice view of his ass. He saw it sway to and fro gently as Russell walked, ran his eyes over its gentle curve, remembered caressing it with his hands, with his lips, with . . .
Russell suddenly stopped short, and Ed crashed into him, nearly sending both of them tumbling over.
Russell whirled around and hissed, through the horse mask, “What are you doing?”
“Well, excuse me for not being able to see!” Ed said. “Warn me before you do that!”
“I’m not exactly equipped with a warning buzzer!” Russell whispered, just as Ed heard the cheering voices of children.
*Great*, he thought. *It’s showtime.*
He could hear Roy saying something to the kids. He couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t want to. He just wanted this to be over with.
*We’d better earn a *lot* of time with that bubble tub for this,* he thought.
He trained his eyes on the only thing in front of him that he could see -- Russell’s back, still covered by suspenders, even in this ridiculous outfit . .. and then, lower, his ass . ..
Oh, yes, his ass was a sight, all right. Even covered with the brown, fuzzy pants he had to wear as part of the horse costume, it was something to behold. Gently rounded and firm, seemingly shaped to be perfect for Ed’s hands .. .
Russell was starting to move now, jumping up and down a little, jogging to the right, then to the left, and Ed quickly struggled to keep up with him . . . while not taking his eyes off that magnificent rear end.
It looked even hotter now in motion, flexing and turning to the left, to the right . . . Ed couldn’t help but imagine it naked, writhing and moving beneath his touch, thrusting upward eagerly as Ed slipped a finger between the cheeks, gently pushing into his lover’s tight heat, getting him ready for . . .
Ed took a deep breath and mentally smacked himself. He was getting carried away, and his body was showing the evidence. He was suddenly very glad he was inside this stupid costume, so the entire party couldn’t see his very obvious arousal.
He was still trying to keep up with Russell’s horse dance, stepping to the left, then the right, hopping up and down in place . . . when all he wanted to do was grab him, yank his pants down and grind against him, oh, yes, his cock would feel so good against Russell’s ass, those firm cheeks rubbing the hot skin, enveloping him, enclosing him . . .
Russell stopped suddenly again, and Ed crashed into him. Both of them stumbled, nearly falling.
“What the . . .” Russell said. He started to turn toward Ed to yell at him . . . and then it registered what he was feeling . . .
Ed could hear Roy a seeming million miles away saying, “Okay, that’s it, Mr. Horse!” Russell was turning around, and Ed stumbled again.
They walked a little way, and then there was the feel of someone pulling and tugging at the costume. The little spots of light above Ed’s head grew bigger and brighter.
*Mustang’s letting us out of this thing, and it’s about time,* Ed thought. *If I had to stay in here one second longer, I’d . . .*
Then, he remembered his condition -- which hadn’t lessened any -- and he froze. He sure as hell didn’t want Roy Mustang, of all people, to see him obviously turned on!
“Okay, you’re done,” Roy said, pulling the two parts of the costume apart. Russell shed his eagerly. Ed dropped it as far as his waist, holding it loosely, so the fabric sagged around him, giving nothing away.
“Where can we get into our other costumes?” Ed said, quickly.
“You seem to be in a rush, Fullmetal,” Roy replied as he picked up the piece of costume Russell had dropped on the floor.
“Well, I didn’t exactly *want* to wear this,” Ed said between gritted teeth, his hand clenching as he held the fabric still, willing his body to *go down* . . . but, of course, it wasn’t cooperating.
“You don’t seem to be in a rush to get rid of it,” Roy said with just the tiniest hint of a smirk that made Ed think that he’d *guessed his secret.* And *that* did not make Ed happy at all.
“Look, just *tell us where we can get changed already!* he snapped, feeling the blood rush to his head.
“Your costumes are in the old stable out in back,” Roy said in a bemused tone of voice, waving his hand in the direction of which he spoke. “You can change there.”
Ed nearly knocked him over (*and it would serve the bastard right*, he thought) as he charged through the hall, pushing past a woman in a gown with a huge hoopskirt, a guy dressed as some sort of elephant-headed legendary creature, a couple in traditional Xingian dress . . .
He heard Russell at his heels as he rushed to the stable and yanked open the door. Once he was inside, he drew a long, shuddering breath of relief.
Russell came in, slowly, and shut the door behind them. A single naked light bulb in the ceiling illuminated the stable, which still had bales of hay stacked here and there, although it was empty of animals.
“You have a problem, don’t you?” he said with a hint of a smirk.
“Shut up!” Ed said, clutching the costume tighter.
“I felt it when you ran into me,” Russell said, advancing on his lover slowly.
“If we weren’t in that damn costume, we wouldn’t have had that problem!” Ed snapped.
“Oh? Why is that?” Russell said, leaning over closer, so close Ed could feel his breath on his face, which was NOT helping his situation at all, dammit . . .
He looked away. “None of your business,” he said, feeling color rise to his face.
“Was it being so close?” Russell said, stroking Ed’s hair. “Or was it . . . the *view*?”
“I *told* you it was none of your business!” Ed sneered.
“Oh?” Russell said, leaning closer still, his lips almost touching Ed’s. “Well, then . . . don’t you want me to *help* with your problem?”
And before Ed could answer, the other boy’s mouth was on his, and their tongues were touching, Ed opening his mouth wider with a gasp, starting to eagerly probe for Russell. Their arms wrapped around each other as the costume fell to the floor at long last, Ed’s hips pressing against Russell’s, grinding his erection against him, needing the contact, to *feel* . . .
“Russ,” Ed gasped as their mouths broke apart, Russell’s tongue starting to sweep down Ed’s neck, Ed’s hands grabbing for that magnificent ass that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of . . . and oh, it felt even better than it had looked, all heat and firm curves and tantalizing promise.
Ed brought his mouth to Russell’s again as his index finger slid down the cleft, tracing it through the fabric of his pants, pushing just enough to bring a throaty groan from his lover. He pressed his erection against Russell again, rubbing up and down, imagining it already encased in his tight heat.
Russell pulled away. “Do I have to ask what you want to do?” he said, unzipping his pants.
“No way,” Ed replied, unclasping the suspenders and pushing Russell’s pants and underwear down, falling on his knees so he could slide his tongue up the shaft, kissing it hotly, then drawing in the head and beginning to suck. He heard Russell’s gasp, felt his hips push forward and he took him in deeper, sucking hard, his fingers tickling the other boy’s balls, bringing a “Yes, Ed, yes!” from Russell.
Ed took it in further, and further still . . . yes, it was even a bit in his throat now . . . and bobbed his head up and down, hearing Russell’s loud groans, feeling his lover’s hands tangle in his hair . . .
Then, he pulled away and stood up.
“What the hell?” Russell snapped. “I was so close!”
Ed leaned over, pushed the other boy’s shirt up and kissed a nipple, sending a shudder through Russell’s already more than aroused body.
“Don’t you want to come with me inside you?” he said, pulling away just enough to strip off his own pants and underwear.
“I don’t care *how* I come, just make me come!” Russell said, reaching down to grasp Ed’s erection, starting to pump it hard, rubbing the sensitive area under the head *just so*, just how Ed liked it.
The younger boy leaned back, moaning, putting his hand on top of Russell’s, encouraging him to stroke, yes, harder and faster . . . “Mmmm,” he said. “Like that . . . like that . . .” He groaned again as fingers teased the sensitive slit on top, spreading the precum on top of the tip, feeling slick and soft and unbelievable.
Russell suddenly took his hand away. “I’m not going to let you come until you make me come,” he said. “Equivalent exchange.”
A sly smile came over Ed’s face. Somehow, the words “equivalent exchange” always made their way into their lovemaking. He wondered what non-alchemists talked about in bed.
“All right,” he said, leaning over to kiss Russell’s lips hotly, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth. “Bend over.”
Russell complied, leaning over with his arms braced on a bale of hay, and that incredible ass was exposed to Ed’s view, naked and looking like the physical embodiment of sex itself.
He fished in his pants pocket for the lube and moistened his fingers, parting the cheeks and working a digit in, finding the puckered hole and massaging it, caressing it, until it bloomed for him, allowing him to slowly push in.
Russell’s body tensed, then relaxed, and Ed began a slow in-and-out motion, going deeper with each thrust. His cock ached with every plunge into the tight heat, just wanting it to be *all around him*, pulling him in, making him feel pleasure to the very bottom of his soul.
He tried not to be too fast and eager as he plunged in a second finger, but he moved them a little more quickly than before, and scissored them very gently, wanting to get Russell stretched out so he was *completely* ready. The younger boy’s whimpers and groans told him that he was just as eager as Ed, just as anxious to do it.
Ed slid his fingers out. “Ready?” he said as he lubed his cock.
“Ready,” Russell replied, pushing his ass backward just a bit, a mute begging.
“You sure?” Ed said, although he was already positioning himself, grasping Russell’s hips and pushing his erection against the cleft. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Ed, I’m fine! Just do it!”
Ed pushed in, slowly, and he had to pause and take a deep breath as the sensations flooded through him. Heat, tightness, a burning that ran from his manhood to his very core . ..
When he was sure he was composed enough, that he was out of danger of coming *that moment*, he pushed in again, pausing when he felt Russell tense, continuing when he relaxed again.
“How is it?” Ed said in a husky whisper.
Russell’s breathing was ragged, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He pushed his hips backward. “Fuck me,” he said in a near-growl.
Ed wasn’t exactly going to turn that offer down. He grabbed Russell’s hips tighter and started a slow thrust, which grew faster as Russell started to move, pushing his pelvis back against the smaller boy, telling him what pace he wanted. Ed thrust deeper, leaning over so his head was on Russell’s back, moaning into shirt and skin as the burning within him flared up into an out-and-out brush fire.
He sped up his movements, nearly pounding into his lover, hearing Russell’s throaty cries of “Ed, Ed, Ed .. .” as he reached around, grabbing his erection and stroking it in time to his thrusts.
Close . . . Ed was so close, he could feel the tightening in his stomach, his balls, his heart pounding, his skin tingling . . .
He thrust, and thrust again, and suddenly everything was *exploding,* bursts of white-hot ecstasy searing his consciousness as he threw his head back, letting out a long, loud bellow, his body trembling over and over until he sagged forward.
Somehow, he managed to keep stroking Russell, and it wasn’t long until he heard the answering cry from his lover, felt him tremble, felt the hot, sticky wetness on his fingers.
He slid out of Russell, laying kisses over his back and shoulders, and the younger boy turned around. Their lips met, softly, gently.
“Love you,” Russell said, nuzzling Ed’s hair with his cheek.
“Love you too,” Ed said, leaning over to wipe off his sticky hand on the hay bale, then bending over to find his pants, pulling tissues out of the pocket to clean them both up.
He didn’t feel like going back to that party. He just wanted to stay out here like this, warm and sated and snuggled against his lover . . .
But Russell brought him back to reality. “They’re going to miss us in there,” he said.
“Good,” Ed yawned. “Let ‘em.”
“And if they come out here?”
“We lock the door,” Ed mumbled.
“There is no lock,” Russell said. “It’s broken.”
“Damn.” Ed pulled away from him and reached for the two garment bags. As much as he hated the idea of going back, he hated the idea of Mustang coming out there and seeing them half-naked and obviously post-coital more.
“At least we get to see each other’s *real* costumes now,” Russell said, unzipping his bag. Ed saw him take out the ruffled shirt, a pair of black pants, an eyepatch . . .
*A pirate,* he thought as he started to pull on his own toga. And it was definitely a sexy outfit . . . the pants were tight and accented his legs and ass, the shirt showed *just enough* chest as he thought it would. He knew Russell would draw every eye at the party . . . and he’d have the satisfaction of knowing that this boy was *his*.
But an ironic thought popped into his head, and he just had to laugh. Russell frowned as he pulled his eyepatch into place. “What’s so funny?” he said.
“Nothing,” Ed said. “It’s not important.”
But what he had been thinking was that as sexy as the pirate costume was, it just wasn’t as *maddening* as being in that horse costume, and seeing that *ass*, and nothing but that ass, right in front of him, so sexy, so tantalizing . . .
*Russell,* Ed thought, *believe it or not, you were hotter as the front end of a horse.*
Theme: #7, The Wardrobe, or "I Feel Pretty!" and #13, "The Stables, or Giddyap!"
Title: Riding the Wild Stallion
Author/Artist: Sailor Mac
Disclaimer:Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix and Studio BONES. These characters ain’t mine, I’m just borrowing them for a little while.
RIDING THE WILD STALLION
A Lemon for the 30_Lemons Challenge
(Prompts #7, “The Wardrobe, of ‘I Feel Pretty!’” and #13, “The Stables, or Giddyap!”)
by Sailor Mac
“Brother, come and help me with my costume,” Al called from his bedroom.
Ed paused in the hall, balancing a pile of linens, and said, “Can you wait a moment, Al? Just til I set these down?”
He opened the closet in the hall and shoved the folded sheets in, closing the door. He was amazed that Al had waited this long to put together a costume. Mustang’s party was *tonight*. He’d put together his own outfit days ago.
Walking into his brother’s bedroom, he suddenly stopped short. Al was wearing some kind of long, flowing robe, and was attempting to glue a white beard onto his face.
“I can’t get the beard to stick,” he said. “I tried three different arrays . . .”
Ed frowned. “Al, what the heck are you supposed to be?”
“Florius,” he said. “The ancient god of vegetation. See, here’s my staff . . .” He pointed to a long piece of wood, painted green and twined with vines -- real ones, Ed noticed. Fletcher must have helped with the costume.
“Nobody’s going to know what you’re supposed to be,” Ed grumbled, taking the beard from his brother and laying it on the desk.
“Fletcher knew,” Al said, arranging a few stray strands that were tucked underneath the beard.
“Fletcher’s a plant geek, so he *would* know.” Ed clapped and placed his hands over the beard, there was a flash of purplish-blue light and he picked it up by the edges, gingerly handing it to his brother. “There, that should do it. It’ll just sting a little when you take it off.”
“You don’t seem to *mind* plant geeks most of the time, Brother,” Al said with a sly smile as he started to apply the beard.
Ed folded his arms. “I put up with it from Russell because I *have* to.”
“So what’s *he* wearing for this party?” Al said, continuing to push on the facial hair bit by bit.
Ed swallowed hard. He’d seen part of Russell’s costume in the closet, all right, and it looked alluring indeed. A white ruffled shirt, which seemed cut just low enough in the chest to let a sexy amount of skin show through . . .
That shirt was the main reason he’d stopped complaining about this particular party. He normally hated the military’s parties with a passion, but the thought of seeing Russell in *that* . . .
“I don’t really know yet,” Ed said, quickly.
“He hasn’t told you?” Al said between nearly-closed lips as he pushed on the mustache, so it came out more like “Eee ashn’t tol’ you?”
“Think he wants it to be a surprise,” Ed said. “That’s okay, I haven’t told him about mine either.”
There was the sound of approaching feet, and Russell stuck his head in the bedroom door. “There you are,” he said. “Ed, we just got a call from Mustang . . .”
“Crap, don’t tell me the party’s canceled,” Ed said.
“Not quite,” Russell said. “He asked if you and I would do him a favor. The guys who were supposed to wear the horse costume and entertain the kids couldn’t make it . . .”
“NO.” Ed said. “The answer is definitely no. Let *him* wear it.”
“He said he’d give us extra time off if we do it.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ed said, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Al, will you excuse us a minute?” Russell said, walking into the room and gently pulling Ed’s flesh arm. Ed stumbled into the hall after his lover, grumbling protests.
Once they were in their own room, Russell learned close to him and whispered, “He also said he’d give us extra time alone in the *gym*.”
“Oh, big fat freaking deal.”
“The gym . . . with that *big tub*.” Russell’s fingers gently caressed Ed’s shoulder. “Remember that?”
Ed sucked in his breath when he remembered the hot rendezvous he and Russell had in that tub, one they’d always wanted to repeat but never had a chance to . . . and rumor had it that a water alchemist on-staff had figured out a way to get the water to bubble and swirl around the bathers as they relaxed in the tub . . . he just imagined lying in *that* as Russell’s fingers ran over his naked body . . .
*Damn you, Mustang,* he thought. *You knew just how to push my buttons, didn’t you?*
“Fine, okay,” Ed grumbled. “But I want to wear the costumes we brought once we’re done with the horse thing!”
“I don’t see why we can’t,” Russell said. “It’s only going to be for a half-hour or so.”
“Well, let’s get this over with, then,” Ed said, snatching a garment bag from the door. He thought he’d be getting dressed in his ancient Aquroyan king costume right now. True, it consisted only of a toga, a pair of sandals and a golden head-wreath, but he’d *liked* the way it looked, dammit, and he’d hoped Russell would like it, too . . .
“Oh, and I think I’m going to be the front of the horse,” Russell said as they headed for the stairs.
Ed suddenly whirled around and faced him. “Why *you* in the front?”
“Well, you know. Height reasons.” Russell looked just a wee bit smug there . . . just enough to piss Ed off . . .
“Who’s small enough to get *lost* in that costume?” Ed snapped.
“Hey, nobody’s saying you’ll get *lost* in it, but if the butt end is way higher than the head . . .” Russell said.
Ed let out a growl and stormed out of the house. Roy Mustang had succeeded in literally making a horse’s ass out of him.
* * *
His mood wasn’t lightened any when they were given the actual costume. It felt like it was made of the heaviest material known to humanity. Ed thought they were going to roast to death as Roy -- who was dressed as an old-fashioned dandy in an embroidered waistcoat and numerous frills, which Ed thought suited the bastard’s ego -- pulled the fabric up over his head and began to button it onto the piece of costume worn by Russell.
“All you have to do is dance around for a few minutes,” Roy said. “That’s it.”
“Couldn’t you get any young privates to do this?” Ed grumbled.
“They’re all serving as waiters tonight,” Roy said, cooly, as he tugged another button closed. “And with the amount of guests we’re expecting, I can’t spare any of them.”
“I think I would have rather been a waiter,” Ed said, shifting around, trying to get comfortable. He *hated* enclosed spaces, and they didn’t come much more enclosed than this. Tiny little gaps in the buttoned-up portion in front of him, which let patches of light shine through, were all that kept him from feeling *completely* trapped.
“Maybe you don’t remember what happened the *last* time you were a waiter, Fullmetal,” Roy said. “You were doing fine until you spilled a drink . . .”
“The guy ran into me!” Ed snapped. “And then he gave *me* crap!”
“Nevertheless, that was no reason to fuse his pants to the seat,” Roy said. “I have to say, I was impressed . . . you were 12 years old and it took *two* adult alchemists to undo what you had done.”
Ed heard Russell snicker from the front of the costume. “What?” he shouted. “He *said* that I was *12*!”
“Oh, I’ve never seen you lose your temper,” Russell chuckled. “Never seen it at all.”
“Keep that up, and I’ll fuse that horse’s head to your shirt!” Ed said.
“I’ll lead you into the party,” Roy said, and suddenly, Russell was moving, and Ed had no choice but to move with him, stumbling at first, then walking quickly in order to keep up with the strides of his long legs.
*And dammit, he’d better know where he’s going,* Ed thought, *because I can’t see anything.* All he could see was Russell’s back and his ass . . .
Oh, yes, Ed *did* have a very nice view of his ass. He saw it sway to and fro gently as Russell walked, ran his eyes over its gentle curve, remembered caressing it with his hands, with his lips, with . . .
Russell suddenly stopped short, and Ed crashed into him, nearly sending both of them tumbling over.
Russell whirled around and hissed, through the horse mask, “What are you doing?”
“Well, excuse me for not being able to see!” Ed said. “Warn me before you do that!”
“I’m not exactly equipped with a warning buzzer!” Russell whispered, just as Ed heard the cheering voices of children.
*Great*, he thought. *It’s showtime.*
He could hear Roy saying something to the kids. He couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t want to. He just wanted this to be over with.
*We’d better earn a *lot* of time with that bubble tub for this,* he thought.
He trained his eyes on the only thing in front of him that he could see -- Russell’s back, still covered by suspenders, even in this ridiculous outfit . .. and then, lower, his ass . ..
Oh, yes, his ass was a sight, all right. Even covered with the brown, fuzzy pants he had to wear as part of the horse costume, it was something to behold. Gently rounded and firm, seemingly shaped to be perfect for Ed’s hands .. .
Russell was starting to move now, jumping up and down a little, jogging to the right, then to the left, and Ed quickly struggled to keep up with him . . . while not taking his eyes off that magnificent rear end.
It looked even hotter now in motion, flexing and turning to the left, to the right . . . Ed couldn’t help but imagine it naked, writhing and moving beneath his touch, thrusting upward eagerly as Ed slipped a finger between the cheeks, gently pushing into his lover’s tight heat, getting him ready for . . .
Ed took a deep breath and mentally smacked himself. He was getting carried away, and his body was showing the evidence. He was suddenly very glad he was inside this stupid costume, so the entire party couldn’t see his very obvious arousal.
He was still trying to keep up with Russell’s horse dance, stepping to the left, then the right, hopping up and down in place . . . when all he wanted to do was grab him, yank his pants down and grind against him, oh, yes, his cock would feel so good against Russell’s ass, those firm cheeks rubbing the hot skin, enveloping him, enclosing him . . .
Russell stopped suddenly again, and Ed crashed into him. Both of them stumbled, nearly falling.
“What the . . .” Russell said. He started to turn toward Ed to yell at him . . . and then it registered what he was feeling . . .
Ed could hear Roy a seeming million miles away saying, “Okay, that’s it, Mr. Horse!” Russell was turning around, and Ed stumbled again.
They walked a little way, and then there was the feel of someone pulling and tugging at the costume. The little spots of light above Ed’s head grew bigger and brighter.
*Mustang’s letting us out of this thing, and it’s about time,* Ed thought. *If I had to stay in here one second longer, I’d . . .*
Then, he remembered his condition -- which hadn’t lessened any -- and he froze. He sure as hell didn’t want Roy Mustang, of all people, to see him obviously turned on!
“Okay, you’re done,” Roy said, pulling the two parts of the costume apart. Russell shed his eagerly. Ed dropped it as far as his waist, holding it loosely, so the fabric sagged around him, giving nothing away.
“Where can we get into our other costumes?” Ed said, quickly.
“You seem to be in a rush, Fullmetal,” Roy replied as he picked up the piece of costume Russell had dropped on the floor.
“Well, I didn’t exactly *want* to wear this,” Ed said between gritted teeth, his hand clenching as he held the fabric still, willing his body to *go down* . . . but, of course, it wasn’t cooperating.
“You don’t seem to be in a rush to get rid of it,” Roy said with just the tiniest hint of a smirk that made Ed think that he’d *guessed his secret.* And *that* did not make Ed happy at all.
“Look, just *tell us where we can get changed already!* he snapped, feeling the blood rush to his head.
“Your costumes are in the old stable out in back,” Roy said in a bemused tone of voice, waving his hand in the direction of which he spoke. “You can change there.”
Ed nearly knocked him over (*and it would serve the bastard right*, he thought) as he charged through the hall, pushing past a woman in a gown with a huge hoopskirt, a guy dressed as some sort of elephant-headed legendary creature, a couple in traditional Xingian dress . . .
He heard Russell at his heels as he rushed to the stable and yanked open the door. Once he was inside, he drew a long, shuddering breath of relief.
Russell came in, slowly, and shut the door behind them. A single naked light bulb in the ceiling illuminated the stable, which still had bales of hay stacked here and there, although it was empty of animals.
“You have a problem, don’t you?” he said with a hint of a smirk.
“Shut up!” Ed said, clutching the costume tighter.
“I felt it when you ran into me,” Russell said, advancing on his lover slowly.
“If we weren’t in that damn costume, we wouldn’t have had that problem!” Ed snapped.
“Oh? Why is that?” Russell said, leaning over closer, so close Ed could feel his breath on his face, which was NOT helping his situation at all, dammit . . .
He looked away. “None of your business,” he said, feeling color rise to his face.
“Was it being so close?” Russell said, stroking Ed’s hair. “Or was it . . . the *view*?”
“I *told* you it was none of your business!” Ed sneered.
“Oh?” Russell said, leaning closer still, his lips almost touching Ed’s. “Well, then . . . don’t you want me to *help* with your problem?”
And before Ed could answer, the other boy’s mouth was on his, and their tongues were touching, Ed opening his mouth wider with a gasp, starting to eagerly probe for Russell. Their arms wrapped around each other as the costume fell to the floor at long last, Ed’s hips pressing against Russell’s, grinding his erection against him, needing the contact, to *feel* . . .
“Russ,” Ed gasped as their mouths broke apart, Russell’s tongue starting to sweep down Ed’s neck, Ed’s hands grabbing for that magnificent ass that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of . . . and oh, it felt even better than it had looked, all heat and firm curves and tantalizing promise.
Ed brought his mouth to Russell’s again as his index finger slid down the cleft, tracing it through the fabric of his pants, pushing just enough to bring a throaty groan from his lover. He pressed his erection against Russell again, rubbing up and down, imagining it already encased in his tight heat.
Russell pulled away. “Do I have to ask what you want to do?” he said, unzipping his pants.
“No way,” Ed replied, unclasping the suspenders and pushing Russell’s pants and underwear down, falling on his knees so he could slide his tongue up the shaft, kissing it hotly, then drawing in the head and beginning to suck. He heard Russell’s gasp, felt his hips push forward and he took him in deeper, sucking hard, his fingers tickling the other boy’s balls, bringing a “Yes, Ed, yes!” from Russell.
Ed took it in further, and further still . . . yes, it was even a bit in his throat now . . . and bobbed his head up and down, hearing Russell’s loud groans, feeling his lover’s hands tangle in his hair . . .
Then, he pulled away and stood up.
“What the hell?” Russell snapped. “I was so close!”
Ed leaned over, pushed the other boy’s shirt up and kissed a nipple, sending a shudder through Russell’s already more than aroused body.
“Don’t you want to come with me inside you?” he said, pulling away just enough to strip off his own pants and underwear.
“I don’t care *how* I come, just make me come!” Russell said, reaching down to grasp Ed’s erection, starting to pump it hard, rubbing the sensitive area under the head *just so*, just how Ed liked it.
The younger boy leaned back, moaning, putting his hand on top of Russell’s, encouraging him to stroke, yes, harder and faster . . . “Mmmm,” he said. “Like that . . . like that . . .” He groaned again as fingers teased the sensitive slit on top, spreading the precum on top of the tip, feeling slick and soft and unbelievable.
Russell suddenly took his hand away. “I’m not going to let you come until you make me come,” he said. “Equivalent exchange.”
A sly smile came over Ed’s face. Somehow, the words “equivalent exchange” always made their way into their lovemaking. He wondered what non-alchemists talked about in bed.
“All right,” he said, leaning over to kiss Russell’s lips hotly, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth. “Bend over.”
Russell complied, leaning over with his arms braced on a bale of hay, and that incredible ass was exposed to Ed’s view, naked and looking like the physical embodiment of sex itself.
He fished in his pants pocket for the lube and moistened his fingers, parting the cheeks and working a digit in, finding the puckered hole and massaging it, caressing it, until it bloomed for him, allowing him to slowly push in.
Russell’s body tensed, then relaxed, and Ed began a slow in-and-out motion, going deeper with each thrust. His cock ached with every plunge into the tight heat, just wanting it to be *all around him*, pulling him in, making him feel pleasure to the very bottom of his soul.
He tried not to be too fast and eager as he plunged in a second finger, but he moved them a little more quickly than before, and scissored them very gently, wanting to get Russell stretched out so he was *completely* ready. The younger boy’s whimpers and groans told him that he was just as eager as Ed, just as anxious to do it.
Ed slid his fingers out. “Ready?” he said as he lubed his cock.
“Ready,” Russell replied, pushing his ass backward just a bit, a mute begging.
“You sure?” Ed said, although he was already positioning himself, grasping Russell’s hips and pushing his erection against the cleft. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Ed, I’m fine! Just do it!”
Ed pushed in, slowly, and he had to pause and take a deep breath as the sensations flooded through him. Heat, tightness, a burning that ran from his manhood to his very core . ..
When he was sure he was composed enough, that he was out of danger of coming *that moment*, he pushed in again, pausing when he felt Russell tense, continuing when he relaxed again.
“How is it?” Ed said in a husky whisper.
Russell’s breathing was ragged, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He pushed his hips backward. “Fuck me,” he said in a near-growl.
Ed wasn’t exactly going to turn that offer down. He grabbed Russell’s hips tighter and started a slow thrust, which grew faster as Russell started to move, pushing his pelvis back against the smaller boy, telling him what pace he wanted. Ed thrust deeper, leaning over so his head was on Russell’s back, moaning into shirt and skin as the burning within him flared up into an out-and-out brush fire.
He sped up his movements, nearly pounding into his lover, hearing Russell’s throaty cries of “Ed, Ed, Ed .. .” as he reached around, grabbing his erection and stroking it in time to his thrusts.
Close . . . Ed was so close, he could feel the tightening in his stomach, his balls, his heart pounding, his skin tingling . . .
He thrust, and thrust again, and suddenly everything was *exploding,* bursts of white-hot ecstasy searing his consciousness as he threw his head back, letting out a long, loud bellow, his body trembling over and over until he sagged forward.
Somehow, he managed to keep stroking Russell, and it wasn’t long until he heard the answering cry from his lover, felt him tremble, felt the hot, sticky wetness on his fingers.
He slid out of Russell, laying kisses over his back and shoulders, and the younger boy turned around. Their lips met, softly, gently.
“Love you,” Russell said, nuzzling Ed’s hair with his cheek.
“Love you too,” Ed said, leaning over to wipe off his sticky hand on the hay bale, then bending over to find his pants, pulling tissues out of the pocket to clean them both up.
He didn’t feel like going back to that party. He just wanted to stay out here like this, warm and sated and snuggled against his lover . . .
But Russell brought him back to reality. “They’re going to miss us in there,” he said.
“Good,” Ed yawned. “Let ‘em.”
“And if they come out here?”
“We lock the door,” Ed mumbled.
“There is no lock,” Russell said. “It’s broken.”
“Damn.” Ed pulled away from him and reached for the two garment bags. As much as he hated the idea of going back, he hated the idea of Mustang coming out there and seeing them half-naked and obviously post-coital more.
“At least we get to see each other’s *real* costumes now,” Russell said, unzipping his bag. Ed saw him take out the ruffled shirt, a pair of black pants, an eyepatch . . .
*A pirate,* he thought as he started to pull on his own toga. And it was definitely a sexy outfit . . . the pants were tight and accented his legs and ass, the shirt showed *just enough* chest as he thought it would. He knew Russell would draw every eye at the party . . . and he’d have the satisfaction of knowing that this boy was *his*.
But an ironic thought popped into his head, and he just had to laugh. Russell frowned as he pulled his eyepatch into place. “What’s so funny?” he said.
“Nothing,” Ed said. “It’s not important.”
But what he had been thinking was that as sexy as the pirate costume was, it just wasn’t as *maddening* as being in that horse costume, and seeing that *ass*, and nothing but that ass, right in front of him, so sexy, so tantalizing . . .
*Russell,* Ed thought, *believe it or not, you were hotter as the front end of a horse.*