Fic + Art: Set to 350 Degrees, Keep in when Boiling (fic by me, art by axmxp)
Title: Set to 350 degrees, keep in when boiling
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Series!Roy x Alfons x Alter!Roy, implied past onesided Alfons x Alphonse
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut, Humor
Prompt: In a Tight Spot
Warnings: Threesome, PWP, dubious timeline, extremely AU, Kitchen-sex, man-sammich.
Art by: axmxp, who is my porn-muse and RoyxHei art fairy <3
Note: For axmxp, who requested this on my request bucket, which you can find on my journal.
Note 2: Okay guys, I give. I edited this thing…I edited this a lot. I wanted to pull off Roy x Alfons x Roy, and I hope I did a good job (as there will be more stories like this in the future with these guys)…
Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist…and the characters depicted in sexual situations in this fic are older than 18.
The kitchen was a sacred place. This was where you cooked and stored your food…where you received sustenance when you were famished…where you got drinks when you were thirsty…
This was Alfons Heiderich’s personal domain, besides his workshop in the basement. Where he spent his time working, perfecting his skills…
Providing for the two Roys who somehow found themselves taking refuge in his much-too-large home. The same two Roys who couldn’t even make a proper bowl of soup without setting it aflame somehow. The same two Roys who had managed to lure him into their bed.
Narcissism, it was called. To love oneself…though in their case it was that they had sex with each other despite the fact that they looked the same…and the two of them dragged poor Alfons right along for the ride.
Sort of like now.
There’s something wrong with this, this isn’t right, Alfons thought hazily, struggling a bit against Roy’s iron grip as the other licked at his much-too-happy erection. This is a kitchen, for God’s sake. We eat in here…God, I’m going to have to clean up this mess…
He had to check on dinner soon, too. It would burn if he left it in the oven too long.
Too bad the Roy holding him fast had his ass quite firmly planted against the oven door. And convincing him was useless too…
Maybe there’s a way to get past them…oh God, if I don’t stop this, the whole kitchen will burn down-
“AAAHH!!!”
Alfons could feel Roy-the General Roy, the one who Edward had complained so much about when he was in Munich-curl his lips around him, sucking on him instead of merely licking. His clothes had already been shed, tossed helter-skelter around the kitchen floor, though Alfons wasn’t exactly sure where they were (it was hard to even think with that mouth on him like that…and ohgod, was the other Roy starting to nibble on his neck?!). His own pants were merely bunched around his thighs, suspenders almost torn off and tossed aside somewhere…
And his shirt.
His poor, poor shirt.
The other Roy-the one holding him back-was always too eager. Much more fiery than the General…
So eager in fact that he had ripped his shirt in half, and it too was lying somewhere on the floor…probably near the General’s discarded uniform.
Clothes are expensive here…and with my wages, I just can’t buy those on a whi-
Alfons gasped, when he felt a sharp pinch on his neck. Something like a bite.
“Alfons…” the Roy behind him had purred in his ear; Alfons shivered, despite the hard, tight vicegrip that the man was keeping his arms in, behind his back…
Wait.
Behind his back?
They were simply looped around his armpits earlier, hoisting him up…
“Are you even paying attention?” A low, throaty chuckle.
Alfons failed to see how them pinning him like this was funny.
The other Roy’s mouth moved away from its previous task, looking up and smirking at him.
“I don’t think he is.” He paused. “I think he’s a little…distracted.”
Distracted?
Oh, good…he couldn’t smell anything burning…
“I think we should solve this problem quickly.” The Roy behind him mumbled.
“I agree.”
Wait, his distraction was a problem? What was going o-
Alfons hardly had time to think about it, as already large hands were easing him down to the floor. It was sneaky, it was underhanded to do this…to be so pushy but not pushy all at the same damn time. But what the hell? They were always like that with him…at least when they wanted something, and then they somehow conned him into wanting it (damn Roys and their manipulation tactics…they were the same on both sides, and Alfons was starting to realize just why Edward had taken such a horrible disliking to the man when he was his superior in the military) took and took and took and never asked about it. Just made his mouth, body, muscles, skin, and voice do everything that they wished him to do.
The General was still sitting up; though his legs were spread now, obvious erection up and at attention. He was older, but Roy was never big as he himself was…though the two Roys had often joked that his much too-large anatomy was some sort of divine joke; Alfons was far too submissive to do the fucking himself, and yet that cock of his was ideal to just impale yourself against.
Joke of fate, indeed.
The Roy on the floor looked up at the Roy behind him, quirking an eyebrow.
“Your clothes are still on,” he said.
“That they are,” the Roy at his back replied, moving Alfons to sit on his hands and knees.
Hands and knees.
Oh Lord in Heaven.
“S-stop…” his protest was weak, dammit. He knew that. He was so hard it hurt (why why why?! He was being tossed around like a party favor and he knew that!) and his blood was already down between his legs almost to the breaking point. But he had to say something…
“Mmmm?” Oh hell, the Roy behind him had already removed Alfons’s pants, tossing them aside (but how? Alfons didn’t even notice him lifting his legs to remove each pant leg, or even his hands on his pants! For all he knew, his hands were still bound!).
“Th-this…this is…n-not…right…” Damn him for starting to pant already. “This is…unsanitary…”
“Don’t worry,” the Roy on the floor adjusted his eyepatch and gave him a smile, leading him forward a bit, “We’ll clean up after ourselves.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. Alfons thought.
“The problem is that we don’t want him to move.” Which one had said that? The one at his back? The one in front of him? It was hard to remember…they looked almost the same, save for their eyes, and when he was like this they both looked exactly the same to him…
“If he has his arms unbound, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”
Alfons shut his eyes, and shut them tight.
If they were planning something, he didn’t exactly want to see what it was. He would be on the receiving end of it soon enough anyway.
A drawer opened and closed nearby, and he could hear the shuffling and feel the exchanging of hands, though his own wrists kept in a tight vice-grip…even though it was only from one hand.
“Could you help me, please?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t have him getting away when I’m taking my pants off.”
He was released, but a second pair of hands grabbed him before he could flail his escape, holding him steady.
Then he felt something wrap around his poor wrists.
Something coarse…and fabric.
` A…
Dishtowel?
“There. He won’t be getting away now.”
Another chuckle. He couldn’t tell which Roy it was…and he didn’t even care. Just for them to do their worst and for him to get it done with already. He knew he wasn’t getting away and even if he wanted to, there was no chance for him escaping.
“Just…Just…”
“Alfons, you don’t have to close your eyes…”
“It’s going to happen no matter what I do,” Alfons reasoned, “So why should I keep my eyes open?”
“So you don’t like to watch?”
“You two both look the same when I’m like this. It’s like looking in a mirror…”
“Is that such a bad thing?” One of the Roys asked. Again, Alfons’s eyes were closed so he didn’t know which one it was…nor did he care.
…It was almost like fantasizing about Alphonse again, and God knew he didn’t want to go back to those days.
“P-perhaps it’s best if…Aaah…you…you don’t ask such a thi-”
Cold.
Holyfuckcold against his ass.
Alfons jumped, opening his eyes and trying his best to look back at Roy-the Roy from his side (the Roy with two eyes instead of one)-but it was hard to look over when his hands were bound and he was stuck in his current position.
“I can’t prepare you if I don’t use something wet,” he said, in almost a devious tone.
“What are you using?”
He was almost afraid to ask.
“That’s for me to know, and for you to not worry yourself about,” was the jovial response.
Alfons wondered if he said something else…
But somewhere between the fingers probing his ass and the feeling of that spot being brushed up against his eyes had fluttered shut and he had lost most of his sense of coherency.
A hand was put on his head, leading it down, down…and he felt something hard and familiar against his lips, twitching a bit, almost begging him to put it inside…to tease it, play with it. To do something while this cruel pleasurable torture of preparation was taking place, boggling his mind with Roy’s teasing. Well, the Roy with two eyes. The other Roy.
Oh to Hell with it-When his mind was like this…fuzzed and full of lust, mind swimming and body aching and burning…it was almost impossible for him to tell the difference between the two (at least that’s what he kept telling himself…). They looked the same, their hands were on him, they were kissing him, touching him, and fondling him in ways he hadn’t even thought possible, and their damn names were the same…!
Alfons’s mouth closed on that hard, thick thing that was pressing against his face, taking a deep, long whiff of the musk that threatened to overpower his senses. Strong…but somehow a little sweet. He could barely make out a moan coming from his front, and that which his mouth was so fervently sucking and nuzzling on was already twitching.
…And not just because of that loud moan he let out of his lips right then, either.
Damn Roy for not warning him before he thrusts in. Or maybe he did say something and he hadn’t heard it.
Sort of like the oven. It could be beeping like crazy and you wouldn’t even notice it, would you?
Alfons pushed back the thought and sucked harder, swallowing the moans and trying his best to relax his muscles against the invader who had penetrated them.
“Alfons…” he could hear the strained voice at his back…pained, almost… “Relax…”
It was hard to try to relax when said invader was already thrusting in and out…Slow, but...
It was always a choreographed dance with them…Alfons suckling, sometimes hard, sometimes soft…one Roy in the back thrusting away inside him as the other one, the one Alfons himself was pleasing, would moan and croon and rub his hair and massage his scalp…all three of them begging for release in their own small, desperate way.
Himself…
He didn’t know when the discomfort had changed to pleasure, or when his cock started to be touched…His body was numb and trembling now…numb and feeling at the same time…He kept getting pressed forward with each thrust, feeling that feeling and hearing the sound of skin slapping against skin…
Somewhere along the line, that he had so fervently been sucking on before had grown soft…and his face was somehow soaking wet with something other than the sweat that was most definitely pouring down his brow (he wondered if the Roy he had been sucking off had already come…that would certainly explain the mess on his face, anyway), and his chest and nipples were being touched and stroked…pinched…teased…
He couldn’t stop himself from wailing now…louder and louder, screaming a name that he knew was ambiguous to two different men, but he didn’t even really give a damn (but was that the sound of the oven going off?), crying out and crying out and crying out, until…
One last scream and he was done, arching his back and shutting his eyes even tighter than he had been this whole time…
He floated on the afterglow of release for just a few moments before the rest of his coherency became fuzzy…
He didn’t even notice the wetness that suddenly formed inside him until a few minutes later, when he was on the floor sandwiched in a warm, three-man embrace.
* * *
“Alfons, I can’t help but notice that dinner tastes a little…”
“Burnt?” Alfons jabbed his fork into the slightly charred roast, not even bothering to look at the other two men who were sitting on either side of him. “Why didn’t you tell me that the oven was going off? The kitchen could have burned down!!”
“You act as if we didn’t rush to turn it off the moment we heard it beeping,” Roy-the General Roy, the one with the eyepatch and a ravenous reading appetite that only rivaled his own-chuckled, taking a bite out of charcoaled carrot. “It was irresponsible of us to not notice it before…but I’m sure in the grand scheme of things you would have been more upset than you are now if we stopped our activities to turn the stove off.”
He had him there.
“And you know…” Roy-the Roy from his side, the one with two eyes who wrote dirty novels for a living and had an unhealthy obsession with Alfons’s homemade vanilla pudding-looked over at Alfons from where he sat, glancing at him with eyes that could have knocked even asexual Edward Elric in throes of sexual flights of fancy.
“What?” Alfons looked at him, and could feel his face already start to warm up…shit, shit…
“The food may be burnt…but it can always have…other uses…”
…
It had to be illegal for one to mention food-play at the dinner table without even the slightest blush…
But living with two Roys under the same roof…
Anything was possible.
