elricest fanfiction
Title: Moving On
Author: esteltinuviel
Pairings: elricest, implied Ed x Winry, implied Al x Sheska
Genre: romance, angst, AU
Rating: R (for heavily implied sexual situations)
Words: 2365
Spoilers/Warnings: spoilers for episode 51, AU
Author's Note: Sorry it's so angsty... I'll try for more romance soon. Oh, and this was written in two hours, so forgive me if it's got lots of errors. I did proof read though!
Summary: Ed and Al begin, experience, and lose love.
MOVING ON
When I came back, the only word really to describe things was awkward. I was awkward on my legs, my voice felt awkward in my throat, it was awkward that I’d came back naked, and the hug Brother gave me was all too awkward for my liking. Perhaps it was because I was naked or my ribs were sticking out in that anorexic way that made me want to hurl when I looked down at them. Perhaps it was because it was Brother’s coat around me, and I still didn’t have much on, or that he carried me on his back out of that place and to a safe location. Perhaps it was because I was sick for at least two weeks, and threw up anything I ate for the first three days.
Perhaps it was because Brother never asked me for anything, even though he’d promised.
XXX
The touches were brief, at first. A guided hand there, across a nipple that would tighten under the cold steel, a light squeeze to throbbing flesh, nothing too lasting until we finally just crossed that border, or as much as we could with me as an unfeeling hunk of metal, and brother came, the white liquid spilling all over my hand. He’d licked it up, and even in that body I’d shuddered and thought it was strange. But Brother was strange, well not strange, just unusual in that he looked like he needed those touches. Gradually, I came to need them too.
It was one of the few ways we could be close like that, and in the back of my mind I couldn’t wait for when we could do it together and I had a body that could feel him touch me like that.
XXX
Brother had been good to me. He’d looked after me and taken care of me. I loved him, even if for that alone, although I’d cemented the idea some time along the way that I loved him more than just family. I knew he did too, that’s what the touches meant, the ones where I’d helped him cry out with lust and need and me…
I asked him about it one day.
“Brother, you said we would-“
“I know,” he snapped, then softened when he saw me wince. I was still sensitive to sound and other sudden feelings and such. “I’m just waiting until you’re ready. It’s a big deal, you know?” He made it sound like I would break from the contact, when we both knew I wouldn’t. It would hurt, yes, but I wouldn’t break. Ed never broke and I suspected he’d taken it harder than I ever would.
Brother often let guilt consume him.
XXX
People mistook me for the older brother. Sure I was bigger, but I’d always been more mature, or level-headed is more like it. Brother was plenty mature and adult, he’d grown up so early after all.
Some nights I’d have to hold him. Me, in my ugly and cold form, have to hold that little ball of warmth I’d come to call Brother. He had nightmares, and I’d hold him, rock him back to sleep, whispering over and over how much I loved him.
I’ve never been sure if he heard me.
XXX
The best way to describe a first kiss is wet. Very wet and weird. I can’t say I hated it, looking back I think I was enthralled just to be that close to someone, that close to Brother. He’d stuck his tongue in, all too soon for what I was expecting, and I reciprocated mainly because I was embarrassed and thought I should.
After about the second or third kiss it turned better. He stopped devouring my face and it turned more into one of the kisses I’d seen Winry’s parents give each other when they thought no one was looking. The kind filled with love and not lust. The kind you see in movies now, only those don’t lead to contact like mine did.
I don’t even remember if I was ready, but we were too far gone to stop.
XXX
The morning after I touched Brother for the first time, or he asked me to touch him and I went along, he barely spoke at all but you could see it written on his face.
He felt guilty, to the point of regretting it I think.
It’s never left me that Brother regrets loving me. Or that I love him back.
XXX
It hurt. That’s all I really remember, besides some heat and an altogether bad experience. Bad in that we didn’t know anything at all. Brother knew the basics of how to move and “where to put it” as he muttered in my ear with a covered up moan, but besides that, it took several minutes of uncomfortable movement for it to feel good at all, and even then he’d barely found my spot before it was over.
Even though it hurt, I told him I loved him, and convinced him to try again the next night.
XXX
“Winry asked me out,” he told me one day as he entered our little house in Risembool.
I looked up from my book and smoothed a hand down Snowball’s back. She purred at the contact. “When did she ask?”
He took a seat on our bed as I moved over to give him some room, curling up around him.
“Today,” he replied, and didn’t seem all too happy about it, as I could tell. His speech was quiet, calculated, as if each word were a bomb meant to go off. For him, they probably were, as the conflict within him seemed to well up.
I rubbed his back for a few seconds then stopped when I felt him tense. “She’s loved you for a long time you know…”
“Yeah, I know…”
That was the beginning of our problems.
XXX
The next few times Brother and I tried, it was considerably better. Good, beyond good, Brother was just… he made me melt and then remolded me each night it seemed under that searing heat he possess. Heat that would melt my insides to mush and make me go all soft under him at each kiss and thrust and little jab that made me cry out with pleasure.
I noticed he seemed less guilty too, and happier. He’d wake up in the mornings, still tangled around me and the sheets and sometimes still covered in me, a lazy smile on his face when I would wake up the same way. He cuddled more in the morning, and sometimes we’d get in a tickle fight, just like when we were kids, other times he’d tease by making breakfast without any clothes on, or other times I’d just get this tightness in my chest that screamed, “I love you!” and we’d begin all again, ending up dirtier than the night before.
His laugh was infectious, the times he would laugh, and they increased as the weeks passed. It was months since I’d come back, and a few weeks since we started in all that. He’d laugh at something I did or said, or even when I laughed, and his whole face would lit up like that was the only moment he was truly alive.
Even at night he no longer woke up with nightmares, clutching to me and shaking in a rare moment of fear. He’d just melt with me and drift off, snoring beside me.
XXX
We left Risembool for Central, saying I’d missed the city. I had, but not the way Ed made it sound like, like I needed to go there and just be away, be in the city.
I could tell it was hard on him, leading that double standard, but in Central we hoped things might be a little different, even if we couldn’t go out. Well, we couldn’t do that back home, so the only difference was she wasn’t there.
The apartment we got was small, cramped, and I hated it. I hated Central then as much as Ed did, although I think some of our happiest moments were there.
Ed loosened up for a time, returning to the happiness he’d had. We stayed in, reading, playing board games, or one some occasions, something naughtier. At night it was the same as always, the melting in the bed that we kept hidden, brushed under the covers as a ritual only we knew about.
I hated the secrecy, but I didn’t mind as long as he was there. For a time I was worried he’d leave, and he had, for a few months until he couldn’t take it and came back. To me, that is. I felt like we were really a couple there, like things were settling into a routine. The only thing missing was a house and maybe another cat. Or kids, I kind of wanted kids but couldn’t even think of how we’d manage that.
But for all his happiness, Brother wasn’t happy. The lines around his face grew more apparent, the mornings weren’t the bliss and giggles they had been. They were a sigh, a space in between us, or sometimes even an absence from the bed.
We only stayed ten months, but when we came back to Risembool, Ed brought a ring.
XXX
“I won’t cheat on her,” he said, hands clenched at his sides. It was hard for him.
I didn’t look up, and only nodded my head. I don’t know what I expected. I’d practically told him to date her. I felt bad, Winry had always been there, had always loved him, who was I to say no? And she didn’t even know why I would have been opposed… Brother and I never told anyone.
I cried into my pillow that night, lying in a bed that was mine and not ours anymore.
XXX
I felt like I was going to a funeral. Brother hardly smiled and stood stiff as a board the whole ceremony, although I can’t say I felt peachy either. If anything I looked like the one who was going to a funeral, but it was a funeral of sorts.
The tux felt tight and I remember pulling at the collar. Brother pulled at his too, and then I stopped. Midway through I just stared at the ground. I couldn’t bear to watch, it hurt, and my stomach was in painful knots the whole time.
I knew I wanted to be the bride Edward kissed.
XXX
Ed noticed my depression the week after. He’d just come back from his honeymoon, which I’d adamantly insisted he take. I didn’t want him staying around Risembool and seeing me when he should be with Winry. I didn’t want to be reminded that he was melting with her and not me. I hoped it burned and hurt and then wished I hadn’t thought that because I hated seeing Brother in pain.
But he’d come by what was now my house, and I’d quivered and let him in. I couldn’t leave him there on the doorstep. I couldn’t be cold and shut him out. It was Brother, no Edward, even though his name felt funny on my tongue.
He reached up to touch my hair and I grabbed his hand to push it away but he touched my hair anyway. I let him, I didn’t stop him once he did.
We were sweaty and dirty but I felt like being selfish for once.
XXX
“Get a girlfriend,” he said one day. I pushed him away when he said it. I didn’t need him to say that after he’d just been pressed against me and his lips still lingered on my sweaty neck.
He left after that and I got a train ticket to Central in the mail from him. I took the train, even if to get away from him for a few days, but I ended up staying in Central.
I only hope he hated my wedding as much as he hated his own.
XXX
Sheska gave me kids. I suppose I should love her and be thankful, and I do, I love my kids and I can’t repay her enough for them, but each time I look at them… I’m lucky they look like her. If they looked like me or… I couldn’t take it. It’s bad enough that I sometimes find myself thinking, what if we did, or what if we adopted, what if we’d stayed together to the point of thinking of kids? What if they were ours, mine and his, our kids to raise and worry about explaining things like siblings and two daddies.
He had kids too, friends of my kids. We moved to Risembool because I had the house. But I never liked his kids. Not because they were mean, if anything they were angels, contradictions to him. But they should have been my kids.
His children looked like him.
XXX
We tried to meet up. Several times over each year over several years.
A rushed kiss that lead to a rushed night a rushed putting on of clothes and another rushed kiss before Ed was out the door with I was only half dressed and left in some seedy hotel we’d become familiar with all too well.
The room stank of stale sex and sweat but we would meet there anyway, for fleeting touches that would occasionally trick us into thinking it was the same as it used to be but then I’d have to cover my moan and we’d remember it wasn’t ever going to be the same.
Some times I’d cried, and once or twice I caught Ed crying too, though I’m not sure what for. He is just as much to blame for it failing as I am. He said yes, proposed, and did all that. He wanted it… that’s what hurt the most, is that he didn’t want to try and work things out even when I would have died and given it all up just for the hope that it might work.
After a while we quit.
XXX
Ed called it moving forward, I called it moving on.
Author: esteltinuviel
Pairings: elricest, implied Ed x Winry, implied Al x Sheska
Genre: romance, angst, AU
Rating: R (for heavily implied sexual situations)
Words: 2365
Spoilers/Warnings: spoilers for episode 51, AU
Author's Note: Sorry it's so angsty... I'll try for more romance soon. Oh, and this was written in two hours, so forgive me if it's got lots of errors. I did proof read though!
Summary: Ed and Al begin, experience, and lose love.
MOVING ON
When I came back, the only word really to describe things was awkward. I was awkward on my legs, my voice felt awkward in my throat, it was awkward that I’d came back naked, and the hug Brother gave me was all too awkward for my liking. Perhaps it was because I was naked or my ribs were sticking out in that anorexic way that made me want to hurl when I looked down at them. Perhaps it was because it was Brother’s coat around me, and I still didn’t have much on, or that he carried me on his back out of that place and to a safe location. Perhaps it was because I was sick for at least two weeks, and threw up anything I ate for the first three days.
Perhaps it was because Brother never asked me for anything, even though he’d promised.
XXX
The touches were brief, at first. A guided hand there, across a nipple that would tighten under the cold steel, a light squeeze to throbbing flesh, nothing too lasting until we finally just crossed that border, or as much as we could with me as an unfeeling hunk of metal, and brother came, the white liquid spilling all over my hand. He’d licked it up, and even in that body I’d shuddered and thought it was strange. But Brother was strange, well not strange, just unusual in that he looked like he needed those touches. Gradually, I came to need them too.
It was one of the few ways we could be close like that, and in the back of my mind I couldn’t wait for when we could do it together and I had a body that could feel him touch me like that.
XXX
Brother had been good to me. He’d looked after me and taken care of me. I loved him, even if for that alone, although I’d cemented the idea some time along the way that I loved him more than just family. I knew he did too, that’s what the touches meant, the ones where I’d helped him cry out with lust and need and me…
I asked him about it one day.
“Brother, you said we would-“
“I know,” he snapped, then softened when he saw me wince. I was still sensitive to sound and other sudden feelings and such. “I’m just waiting until you’re ready. It’s a big deal, you know?” He made it sound like I would break from the contact, when we both knew I wouldn’t. It would hurt, yes, but I wouldn’t break. Ed never broke and I suspected he’d taken it harder than I ever would.
Brother often let guilt consume him.
XXX
People mistook me for the older brother. Sure I was bigger, but I’d always been more mature, or level-headed is more like it. Brother was plenty mature and adult, he’d grown up so early after all.
Some nights I’d have to hold him. Me, in my ugly and cold form, have to hold that little ball of warmth I’d come to call Brother. He had nightmares, and I’d hold him, rock him back to sleep, whispering over and over how much I loved him.
I’ve never been sure if he heard me.
XXX
The best way to describe a first kiss is wet. Very wet and weird. I can’t say I hated it, looking back I think I was enthralled just to be that close to someone, that close to Brother. He’d stuck his tongue in, all too soon for what I was expecting, and I reciprocated mainly because I was embarrassed and thought I should.
After about the second or third kiss it turned better. He stopped devouring my face and it turned more into one of the kisses I’d seen Winry’s parents give each other when they thought no one was looking. The kind filled with love and not lust. The kind you see in movies now, only those don’t lead to contact like mine did.
I don’t even remember if I was ready, but we were too far gone to stop.
XXX
The morning after I touched Brother for the first time, or he asked me to touch him and I went along, he barely spoke at all but you could see it written on his face.
He felt guilty, to the point of regretting it I think.
It’s never left me that Brother regrets loving me. Or that I love him back.
XXX
It hurt. That’s all I really remember, besides some heat and an altogether bad experience. Bad in that we didn’t know anything at all. Brother knew the basics of how to move and “where to put it” as he muttered in my ear with a covered up moan, but besides that, it took several minutes of uncomfortable movement for it to feel good at all, and even then he’d barely found my spot before it was over.
Even though it hurt, I told him I loved him, and convinced him to try again the next night.
XXX
“Winry asked me out,” he told me one day as he entered our little house in Risembool.
I looked up from my book and smoothed a hand down Snowball’s back. She purred at the contact. “When did she ask?”
He took a seat on our bed as I moved over to give him some room, curling up around him.
“Today,” he replied, and didn’t seem all too happy about it, as I could tell. His speech was quiet, calculated, as if each word were a bomb meant to go off. For him, they probably were, as the conflict within him seemed to well up.
I rubbed his back for a few seconds then stopped when I felt him tense. “She’s loved you for a long time you know…”
“Yeah, I know…”
That was the beginning of our problems.
XXX
The next few times Brother and I tried, it was considerably better. Good, beyond good, Brother was just… he made me melt and then remolded me each night it seemed under that searing heat he possess. Heat that would melt my insides to mush and make me go all soft under him at each kiss and thrust and little jab that made me cry out with pleasure.
I noticed he seemed less guilty too, and happier. He’d wake up in the mornings, still tangled around me and the sheets and sometimes still covered in me, a lazy smile on his face when I would wake up the same way. He cuddled more in the morning, and sometimes we’d get in a tickle fight, just like when we were kids, other times he’d tease by making breakfast without any clothes on, or other times I’d just get this tightness in my chest that screamed, “I love you!” and we’d begin all again, ending up dirtier than the night before.
His laugh was infectious, the times he would laugh, and they increased as the weeks passed. It was months since I’d come back, and a few weeks since we started in all that. He’d laugh at something I did or said, or even when I laughed, and his whole face would lit up like that was the only moment he was truly alive.
Even at night he no longer woke up with nightmares, clutching to me and shaking in a rare moment of fear. He’d just melt with me and drift off, snoring beside me.
XXX
We left Risembool for Central, saying I’d missed the city. I had, but not the way Ed made it sound like, like I needed to go there and just be away, be in the city.
I could tell it was hard on him, leading that double standard, but in Central we hoped things might be a little different, even if we couldn’t go out. Well, we couldn’t do that back home, so the only difference was she wasn’t there.
The apartment we got was small, cramped, and I hated it. I hated Central then as much as Ed did, although I think some of our happiest moments were there.
Ed loosened up for a time, returning to the happiness he’d had. We stayed in, reading, playing board games, or one some occasions, something naughtier. At night it was the same as always, the melting in the bed that we kept hidden, brushed under the covers as a ritual only we knew about.
I hated the secrecy, but I didn’t mind as long as he was there. For a time I was worried he’d leave, and he had, for a few months until he couldn’t take it and came back. To me, that is. I felt like we were really a couple there, like things were settling into a routine. The only thing missing was a house and maybe another cat. Or kids, I kind of wanted kids but couldn’t even think of how we’d manage that.
But for all his happiness, Brother wasn’t happy. The lines around his face grew more apparent, the mornings weren’t the bliss and giggles they had been. They were a sigh, a space in between us, or sometimes even an absence from the bed.
We only stayed ten months, but when we came back to Risembool, Ed brought a ring.
XXX
“I won’t cheat on her,” he said, hands clenched at his sides. It was hard for him.
I didn’t look up, and only nodded my head. I don’t know what I expected. I’d practically told him to date her. I felt bad, Winry had always been there, had always loved him, who was I to say no? And she didn’t even know why I would have been opposed… Brother and I never told anyone.
I cried into my pillow that night, lying in a bed that was mine and not ours anymore.
XXX
I felt like I was going to a funeral. Brother hardly smiled and stood stiff as a board the whole ceremony, although I can’t say I felt peachy either. If anything I looked like the one who was going to a funeral, but it was a funeral of sorts.
The tux felt tight and I remember pulling at the collar. Brother pulled at his too, and then I stopped. Midway through I just stared at the ground. I couldn’t bear to watch, it hurt, and my stomach was in painful knots the whole time.
I knew I wanted to be the bride Edward kissed.
XXX
Ed noticed my depression the week after. He’d just come back from his honeymoon, which I’d adamantly insisted he take. I didn’t want him staying around Risembool and seeing me when he should be with Winry. I didn’t want to be reminded that he was melting with her and not me. I hoped it burned and hurt and then wished I hadn’t thought that because I hated seeing Brother in pain.
But he’d come by what was now my house, and I’d quivered and let him in. I couldn’t leave him there on the doorstep. I couldn’t be cold and shut him out. It was Brother, no Edward, even though his name felt funny on my tongue.
He reached up to touch my hair and I grabbed his hand to push it away but he touched my hair anyway. I let him, I didn’t stop him once he did.
We were sweaty and dirty but I felt like being selfish for once.
XXX
“Get a girlfriend,” he said one day. I pushed him away when he said it. I didn’t need him to say that after he’d just been pressed against me and his lips still lingered on my sweaty neck.
He left after that and I got a train ticket to Central in the mail from him. I took the train, even if to get away from him for a few days, but I ended up staying in Central.
I only hope he hated my wedding as much as he hated his own.
XXX
Sheska gave me kids. I suppose I should love her and be thankful, and I do, I love my kids and I can’t repay her enough for them, but each time I look at them… I’m lucky they look like her. If they looked like me or… I couldn’t take it. It’s bad enough that I sometimes find myself thinking, what if we did, or what if we adopted, what if we’d stayed together to the point of thinking of kids? What if they were ours, mine and his, our kids to raise and worry about explaining things like siblings and two daddies.
He had kids too, friends of my kids. We moved to Risembool because I had the house. But I never liked his kids. Not because they were mean, if anything they were angels, contradictions to him. But they should have been my kids.
His children looked like him.
XXX
We tried to meet up. Several times over each year over several years.
A rushed kiss that lead to a rushed night a rushed putting on of clothes and another rushed kiss before Ed was out the door with I was only half dressed and left in some seedy hotel we’d become familiar with all too well.
The room stank of stale sex and sweat but we would meet there anyway, for fleeting touches that would occasionally trick us into thinking it was the same as it used to be but then I’d have to cover my moan and we’d remember it wasn’t ever going to be the same.
Some times I’d cried, and once or twice I caught Ed crying too, though I’m not sure what for. He is just as much to blame for it failing as I am. He said yes, proposed, and did all that. He wanted it… that’s what hurt the most, is that he didn’t want to try and work things out even when I would have died and given it all up just for the hope that it might work.
After a while we quit.
XXX
Ed called it moving forward, I called it moving on.