Full Metal Alchemist, "Different Perspectives," Ed/Russel, Al/Danny, NC-17
If you've been reading me for awhile, you probably remember this story, which was posted on 13 October of 2005. I got a comment on it from pockygirl, which bunnied me, so I've expanded it.
Here's what I got.
Different Perspectives
by Mistr3ss Quickly
Russel stood in the doorway of the bathing room, frozen, his eyes wide as he watched his husband.
Dressed still in the suit he'd worn to the luncheon with a visiting Alchemist from Xing, earlier that day, Edward looked wonderful. Handsome and mature and utterly male, long hair bound in a loose ponytail and muscles shifting under the vest Al had insisted on ironing before he left the house that morning. Trousers unzipped and belt unfastened, the buckle clinking softly against his metal wrist as he moved, flesh hand tight around his spit-slick cock, stroking it.
He was masturbating. Simple and fast and intense, completely lost in the pleasure of his own touch.
Russel swallowed hard.
He'd thought, at first, that Edward was relieving himself and had simply not latched the door. He'd stopped and waited, wanting to tease the man for being a heathen, get a good laugh and probably a well-aimed slap for his humor.
He'd not expected this.
Edward was close, but not very, not yet. Close enough that, were it Russel's hand on his cock rather than his own, he'd be making demands, probably cursing a little. Moving his hips, if they were making love, trying to get Russel to move faster, to get him off. The sight of it made Russel's stiffened cock throb and ache, delicious tension heightened by his own refusal to touch himself, to draw out the feeling as long as he could.
He wouldn't last long, later. That much he knew with complete certainty.
Edward began rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, fucking his own hand now, breath coming loud and harsh enough that Russel could hear it, echoing in the quiet of the bathing room. Honestly close, then, close enough that he'd no longer beg or demand or curse or whine, instead writhing into Russel's touch, chasing the pleasure with unrestrained desperation, crying out when he came, and Russel found himself wondering if it would be the same, even without his participation in his lover's release.
He never got to find out.
Just as Edward began jerking himself hard enough that his hand was a blur, the front door of the house slammed open, Al calling out a greeting as he came in and kicked off his shoes, Danny's voice floating up the stairs just after, quiet and shy like the man himself tended to be. Russel jumped like a guilty man and hissed a curse through his teeth, instinctively covering the bulge of his erection with his hand as he turned to see if his brother-in-law was coming up the stairs. When Al's and Danny's footsteps disappeared into the sitting room, instead, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned, only to be confronted with Edward's eyes, completely round and focused, right on him.
He was blushing. Pants hastily zipped, shirt still untucked.
"Russ," he said. "Did ... were ... were you ..." He cleared his throat and looked down, tensing when he saw Russel's hand, still clasped tightly over the man's groin. "Oh my god, you were, weren't you. Shit."
He didn't wait for Russel to answer. Blushing furiously and avoiding his husband's eyes, he darted out of the bathing room and into the bedroom he and Russel shared, slamming the door and locking it behind himself.
Russel sighed and shook his head, then sunk his hands into his pockets and made his way downstairs to greet Al and Danny. Best to give Edward time to cool off, in such situations, after all.
~*~*~*~
By the time the sun had begun to set, Al had begun cooking dinner and Edward hadn't yet emerged from the bedroom.
"He's probably asleep," Russel heard Al telling Danny, over the hiss of something boiling over onto the stove. "It wears Brother out to be polite. Which is kind of funny, really."
Danny laughed softly and said something Russel didn't quite catch.
"No, it'd be best to let me do that, Brother's not very nice when he's woken from a nap," said Al. "I'll go wake him when dinner's a little closer to being done, see if I can't calm him down with the promise of food."
Russel sighed. Best to go and get Edward himself, really, unless Al wanted to deal with the sort of tantrum Edward tended to throw when he was embarrassed. He stood and put away the book he'd been reading, yawning as he padded into the kitchen.
"Hey," he said. "I'm going to go wake Ed up, so don't worry about it."
Danny pulled his hand out of the back pocket of Al's trousers and looked thoroughly guilty. Al gave Russel a perfectly innocent smile, the effect only partly ruined by the bright red blush on his cheeks.
"Oh, okay," he said. "Thanks, Russel."
Russel saluted and turned, jogging up the stairs to his bedroom. He knocked twice on the scarred wood of the door, then jiggled the doorknob, sighed when he found it locked. "Baby," he called gently, "it's me. Let me in?"
Nothing. Russel knocked again.
"Come on, Ed, let me in," he said.
"Go away," came Edward's muffled voice from inside the room. "Just ... just go away, Russ."
"I'm not going to do that, and you know it," said Russel, leaning againt the doorjamb. "Come on, Ed. You've been in there for hours for no reason, this is ridiculous. Now open the door."
Again, nothing. The rattle of the random things on the top of the dresser, the squeak of the mattress.
"Edward," said Russel, jiggling the doorknob, "we swore when we decided to get married that we'd never let something like this go un-discussed. So unless you want me shouting to you through the door about what I think's bothering you, with Danny and Al just downstairs-"
The door opened. Edward was blushing brilliantly, dressed in nothing but his pajama pants, his hand snaking out to grab Russel by the front of the man's sweater. He tugged his husband into the bedroom and slammed the door, re-locking it before snarling and stalking across the room, sinking down on the bed in infuriated defeat.
"Fine," he said. "Shoot. Humiliate me some more."
Russel settled on the bed beside him. "I'm not here to humiliate you, Ed," he said. "To be perfectly honest, I'm a little confused over why you're so upset in the first place." He stroked Edward's hair gently. "What I saw you doing, earlier, is nothing I haven't seen-or done, for that matter, to you and to myself-before. You know that."
Edward refused to look at him. "I know that, Russ," he said. "It's just ... I was ... you know. Alone. It's different, when I do it with you, or when we do it during sex. I ... I don't know."
They sat in silence for a moment, Russel gently stroking the loose hair of Edward's ponytail, Edward polishing his automail index finger with the tip of his flesh thumb. He let out an undignified squeak when Russel flopped back onto the mattress, tugging Edward with him.
"I don't know if other guys jerk off, even once they're married," said Russel, "but I think it's damned hot that my husband still knows how to pleasure himself. And I'll tell you, if you hadn't caught me watching, if I'd gotten to watch you finish yourself, I'd have jerked off thinking about you touching yourself."
Edward blinked at his husband. "Really?" he said.
"Really-really," said Russel. "And now, I'm horny, and you're here, so I'm going to challenge you: bet I can make myself come faster than you can."
Edward blinked some more, then smiled, slow and sexy.
"You're on," he said, wiggling out of his pants as Russel laughed and unzipped his own.
~*~*~*~
Al didn't ask, but he wanted to. And it was distracting him, so much so that Danny nearly beat him at chess, losing in ten minutes rather than his usual five.
"You okay, Al?" said Danny, setting the pieces back in their proper places.
"Fine," said Al. "Just wondering why Brother's doing the dishes. It's Russel's night."
Russel paused outside the sitting room and leaned in, a wicked smirk on his handsome face. "Because I won," he said.
"Won what?" said Al.
But Russel was already gone, leaving them alone, the sound of splashing and muttered curses floating down the hall from the kitchen.
Al shook his head and made his move, figuring he was probably better off not knowing.
~*~*~*~
Years later, when Al sought to comfort his own husband with a friendly bout of mutual masturbation after embarrassing the man by walking in on him during an intimately private moment, an idea lodged itself in his brain.
One that, annoyingly, refused to go away.
"Danny?" he said, hours later. "Do you remember, right after we first started dating, the night that I was so confused, 'cause Brother was doing the dishes, even though it was Russel's night to do them?"
Danny frowned. "Um," he said, "maybe?"
Al rolled his eyes and grinned. "It was the night we almost got caught making out behind the station, when we were saying goodnight."
"Oh," said Danny, blushing. "Yes, I remember that. What about it?"
Al shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Just thought of it. You know they say people never forget something they don't understand ... this is probably one of those things."
Danny chuckled and pulled his husband close, kissed him on the nose. "Probably," he said. "You're weird sometimes, sweetheart. You know that?"
"Yeah, I know that," said Al. He grinned and bit Danny on the neck, gently enough that it didn't leave a mark. "You love me anyway."
"Yes, I do," said Danny. "Very, very much."
~*~*~*~
The issue never came up again. In either household.
Here's what I got.
Different Perspectives
by Mistr3ss Quickly
Russel stood in the doorway of the bathing room, frozen, his eyes wide as he watched his husband.
Dressed still in the suit he'd worn to the luncheon with a visiting Alchemist from Xing, earlier that day, Edward looked wonderful. Handsome and mature and utterly male, long hair bound in a loose ponytail and muscles shifting under the vest Al had insisted on ironing before he left the house that morning. Trousers unzipped and belt unfastened, the buckle clinking softly against his metal wrist as he moved, flesh hand tight around his spit-slick cock, stroking it.
He was masturbating. Simple and fast and intense, completely lost in the pleasure of his own touch.
Russel swallowed hard.
He'd thought, at first, that Edward was relieving himself and had simply not latched the door. He'd stopped and waited, wanting to tease the man for being a heathen, get a good laugh and probably a well-aimed slap for his humor.
He'd not expected this.
Edward was close, but not very, not yet. Close enough that, were it Russel's hand on his cock rather than his own, he'd be making demands, probably cursing a little. Moving his hips, if they were making love, trying to get Russel to move faster, to get him off. The sight of it made Russel's stiffened cock throb and ache, delicious tension heightened by his own refusal to touch himself, to draw out the feeling as long as he could.
He wouldn't last long, later. That much he knew with complete certainty.
Edward began rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, fucking his own hand now, breath coming loud and harsh enough that Russel could hear it, echoing in the quiet of the bathing room. Honestly close, then, close enough that he'd no longer beg or demand or curse or whine, instead writhing into Russel's touch, chasing the pleasure with unrestrained desperation, crying out when he came, and Russel found himself wondering if it would be the same, even without his participation in his lover's release.
He never got to find out.
Just as Edward began jerking himself hard enough that his hand was a blur, the front door of the house slammed open, Al calling out a greeting as he came in and kicked off his shoes, Danny's voice floating up the stairs just after, quiet and shy like the man himself tended to be. Russel jumped like a guilty man and hissed a curse through his teeth, instinctively covering the bulge of his erection with his hand as he turned to see if his brother-in-law was coming up the stairs. When Al's and Danny's footsteps disappeared into the sitting room, instead, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned, only to be confronted with Edward's eyes, completely round and focused, right on him.
He was blushing. Pants hastily zipped, shirt still untucked.
"Russ," he said. "Did ... were ... were you ..." He cleared his throat and looked down, tensing when he saw Russel's hand, still clasped tightly over the man's groin. "Oh my god, you were, weren't you. Shit."
He didn't wait for Russel to answer. Blushing furiously and avoiding his husband's eyes, he darted out of the bathing room and into the bedroom he and Russel shared, slamming the door and locking it behind himself.
Russel sighed and shook his head, then sunk his hands into his pockets and made his way downstairs to greet Al and Danny. Best to give Edward time to cool off, in such situations, after all.
~*~*~*~
By the time the sun had begun to set, Al had begun cooking dinner and Edward hadn't yet emerged from the bedroom.
"He's probably asleep," Russel heard Al telling Danny, over the hiss of something boiling over onto the stove. "It wears Brother out to be polite. Which is kind of funny, really."
Danny laughed softly and said something Russel didn't quite catch.
"No, it'd be best to let me do that, Brother's not very nice when he's woken from a nap," said Al. "I'll go wake him when dinner's a little closer to being done, see if I can't calm him down with the promise of food."
Russel sighed. Best to go and get Edward himself, really, unless Al wanted to deal with the sort of tantrum Edward tended to throw when he was embarrassed. He stood and put away the book he'd been reading, yawning as he padded into the kitchen.
"Hey," he said. "I'm going to go wake Ed up, so don't worry about it."
Danny pulled his hand out of the back pocket of Al's trousers and looked thoroughly guilty. Al gave Russel a perfectly innocent smile, the effect only partly ruined by the bright red blush on his cheeks.
"Oh, okay," he said. "Thanks, Russel."
Russel saluted and turned, jogging up the stairs to his bedroom. He knocked twice on the scarred wood of the door, then jiggled the doorknob, sighed when he found it locked. "Baby," he called gently, "it's me. Let me in?"
Nothing. Russel knocked again.
"Come on, Ed, let me in," he said.
"Go away," came Edward's muffled voice from inside the room. "Just ... just go away, Russ."
"I'm not going to do that, and you know it," said Russel, leaning againt the doorjamb. "Come on, Ed. You've been in there for hours for no reason, this is ridiculous. Now open the door."
Again, nothing. The rattle of the random things on the top of the dresser, the squeak of the mattress.
"Edward," said Russel, jiggling the doorknob, "we swore when we decided to get married that we'd never let something like this go un-discussed. So unless you want me shouting to you through the door about what I think's bothering you, with Danny and Al just downstairs-"
The door opened. Edward was blushing brilliantly, dressed in nothing but his pajama pants, his hand snaking out to grab Russel by the front of the man's sweater. He tugged his husband into the bedroom and slammed the door, re-locking it before snarling and stalking across the room, sinking down on the bed in infuriated defeat.
"Fine," he said. "Shoot. Humiliate me some more."
Russel settled on the bed beside him. "I'm not here to humiliate you, Ed," he said. "To be perfectly honest, I'm a little confused over why you're so upset in the first place." He stroked Edward's hair gently. "What I saw you doing, earlier, is nothing I haven't seen-or done, for that matter, to you and to myself-before. You know that."
Edward refused to look at him. "I know that, Russ," he said. "It's just ... I was ... you know. Alone. It's different, when I do it with you, or when we do it during sex. I ... I don't know."
They sat in silence for a moment, Russel gently stroking the loose hair of Edward's ponytail, Edward polishing his automail index finger with the tip of his flesh thumb. He let out an undignified squeak when Russel flopped back onto the mattress, tugging Edward with him.
"I don't know if other guys jerk off, even once they're married," said Russel, "but I think it's damned hot that my husband still knows how to pleasure himself. And I'll tell you, if you hadn't caught me watching, if I'd gotten to watch you finish yourself, I'd have jerked off thinking about you touching yourself."
Edward blinked at his husband. "Really?" he said.
"Really-really," said Russel. "And now, I'm horny, and you're here, so I'm going to challenge you: bet I can make myself come faster than you can."
Edward blinked some more, then smiled, slow and sexy.
"You're on," he said, wiggling out of his pants as Russel laughed and unzipped his own.
~*~*~*~
Al didn't ask, but he wanted to. And it was distracting him, so much so that Danny nearly beat him at chess, losing in ten minutes rather than his usual five.
"You okay, Al?" said Danny, setting the pieces back in their proper places.
"Fine," said Al. "Just wondering why Brother's doing the dishes. It's Russel's night."
Russel paused outside the sitting room and leaned in, a wicked smirk on his handsome face. "Because I won," he said.
"Won what?" said Al.
But Russel was already gone, leaving them alone, the sound of splashing and muttered curses floating down the hall from the kitchen.
Al shook his head and made his move, figuring he was probably better off not knowing.
~*~*~*~
Years later, when Al sought to comfort his own husband with a friendly bout of mutual masturbation after embarrassing the man by walking in on him during an intimately private moment, an idea lodged itself in his brain.
One that, annoyingly, refused to go away.
"Danny?" he said, hours later. "Do you remember, right after we first started dating, the night that I was so confused, 'cause Brother was doing the dishes, even though it was Russel's night to do them?"
Danny frowned. "Um," he said, "maybe?"
Al rolled his eyes and grinned. "It was the night we almost got caught making out behind the station, when we were saying goodnight."
"Oh," said Danny, blushing. "Yes, I remember that. What about it?"
Al shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Just thought of it. You know they say people never forget something they don't understand ... this is probably one of those things."
Danny chuckled and pulled his husband close, kissed him on the nose. "Probably," he said. "You're weird sometimes, sweetheart. You know that?"
"Yeah, I know that," said Al. He grinned and bit Danny on the neck, gently enough that it didn't leave a mark. "You love me anyway."
"Yes, I do," said Danny. "Very, very much."
~*~*~*~
The issue never came up again. In either household.