Full Metal Alchemist, "Sentimentality," Russel/Edward, NC-17
More Disney writing! This was begun our first full day, finished our third full day, because I forgot about it until then. As soon as I figure out how to put art up on LJ, I’ll post a drawing I did just before finishing this story. They’re unrelated, but I could probably write a story to go with the drawing ...
Warnings: (or promises, depending on your kink) NC-17 for sex, Russel/Edward ... uh, that’s it. PWP at its finest. Oh. And it's never this fun to work in a greenhouse, so don't get romantic notions. *nods*
Sentimentality
by Mistress Quickly
The thunder rolled more loudly overhead, rattling the roof of the greenhouse and letting more of the pattering rain leak in through the cracks. Edward sighed and finished measuring the water he’d been getting for Russel, then fetched a ladder and positioned it under the newest leak, clapping his hands and mending it, only to discover three more and have to move around, fixing them.
He loved working in the greenhouse with his lover, honestly he did, but there were days when the greenhouse itself drove him to distraction.
“Thanks, baby,” said Russel, not looking up when Edward passed by, brushing against him. He measured a handful of small white beans, then set them in a jar and made a note.
“Greenhouse is falling apart, Russ,” said Edward, leaning against the worktable and toying with the clasp of his lover’s suspenders. “I still think you should transmute one of your plants into a new greenhouse, and just let this one fall in on itself.”
Russel chuckled and measured out more beans. “This one’s fine, baby. Besides, Fletch and I built it. I’m attached to it.”
“More attached to it than it is to itself, Russ,” said Edward. “And don’t call me ‘baby.’”
Russel set down his cup of beans and turned to look at his lover, a comeback ready on his tongue, but quieted at the sight of the older boy. It must have been a trick of the light, he reasoned later on, because there was nothing truly exceptional about Edward’s appearance. But something about the messy strands of hair that had escaped the boy’s braid, frizzy from the constant rain, something about the way his old sweatpants hung low on his firm hips, the way his t-shirt clung to him in the humidity of the greenhouse and the sweat of working hard, the way the light made the sweat and raindrops on his flesh arm glisten, the way it reflected off his automail arm, made Russel wild with lust. Work forgotten, he grabbed a very unsuspecting Edward and kissed him, pressure of lips on lips until Edward figured out what was going on and opened his mouth, moaning and licking at Russel’s tongue, eyes sliding shut at the feel of Russel kissing him.
“Ngh,” said Russel when Edward wrapped his mismatched arms around his neck, pulling them closer together. “Mmm ...”
Then Edward was rubbing against him, grinding his hips forward against Russel’s thigh, his erection hard and warm through the thin material of Russel’s trousers, his stomach tight and perfect against Russel’s own straining cock. It was maddening, the teasing friction, the need for more, the struggle between wanting more and not wanting to let go, wanting to throw Edward on the ground and fuck him and wanting to hold him tightly, grinding against him and kissing him until their lips went numb.
It was Edward, in the end, who decided it. He pulled away, gasping as Russel’s fingers found one of his nipples through a rip in his t-shirt, his automail hand pressed against the younger boy’s erection, cupping it gently through Russel’s trousers.
“Upstairs,” he gasped. “Now. We’re filthy, and I want to fuck. Upstairs. Shower. Now.”
Russel whined, but let go of the nipple he’d been pinching gently, following Edward out of the greenhouse and into the pouring rain, following the blur of blonde hair and grey cotton through the wet grass. They sneaked into the house, shedding their shoes and dripping all the way up the steps, bolting for the bathing room when Fletcher’s voice echoed in from the living room, demanding to know if they were getting water everywhere. Laughing, they collapsed into the bathing room, locking the door and kissing each other as Fletcher’s footsteps and angry demands that they come clean up their mess floated closer.
“We’ll do it later,” Russel shouted. “I’ve got to do you now,” he said in a lower tone to Edward.
“Fuck yes,” said Edward, stripping out of his shirt and pants in two sweeping motions, leaving him naked and wet, nipples puckered in the cold from the rain, watching Russel struggle with the buttons of his own shirt, the zip of his pants, the tangle of his suspenders.
“Kiss me,” said Edward, pressing himself to his lover, slipping his tongue into Russel’s mouth, then deftly freeing the moaning boy of his clothes. He pushed the shirt off of Russel’s shoulders, along with the suspenders, then dropped to his knees and tugged Russel’s briefs and trousers down to the floor, holding them while Russel stepped clumsily out of them. He grabbed the younger boy’s hips and held them still, licking frantically all around the head of Russel’s erection, sucking the tip into his mouth and teasing the leaking slit with his tongue.
“Yes,” Russel whispered. “Oh, Ed, yes ...”
“Bath,” said Edward, licking the head of Russel’s cock once more, then standing. They stumbled over to the shower, not bothering with bathing stools, kissing and stroking whatever they could reach on one another while Edward fumbled with the showerhead. Turning warm water on full-force, he pulled away from Russel, smiling coyly at the younger boy’s moan of protest, and drenched himself, shaking his head under the stream of warm water. He felt Russel’s fingers join the ends of his hair in tickling his skin and opened his eyes, flirting through the drops of water. He handed Russel the showerhead and began lathering his washcloth with soap.
Russel bathed quickly, never once tearing his gaze away from Edward’s wet body, from the muscles shifting under Edward’s pale skin, from Edward’s erection, hard and wanting and beautiful. The moment Edward had rinsed himself and handed the showerhead back to Russel, the younger boy was on his knees, dripping soap as he grabbed Edward’s hips and shoved the boy’s length all the way into his mouth, gagging a little before his throat relaxed well enough for him to swallow, throating his lover until he needed to breathe. Pulling Edward’s cock out until just the head remained between his lips, Russel began sucking, bobbing his head back and forth, licking and sucking and moaning. When he felt warm water flowing over him, he looked up, seeing Edward’s heated gaze as the boy rinsed him, warming and arousing him, all at once.
“Fuck me, Russ,” Edward whispered, gently stepping back, pulling his cock out of Russel’s mouth and shutting off the water. “Right here on the floor. Fuck me please.”
Russel groaned and stood, grabbing an unlabeled bottle from the shelf over the bathing area and opening it, squeezing lube onto his trembling fingers. Edward got down on all fours, watching Russel over his shoulder and panting, moaning when Russel knelt behind him.
“How do you want it, baby?” murmured Russel, slowly slipping one finger into Edward’s entrance. “Fast and hard or slow and soft?”
Edward growled and thrust his hips back, forcing Russel’s finger all the way into him. “Don’t tease me, Russ.”
Russel pulled his finger out and re-wet it, thrusting it and two others into Edward’s body, all at once. Edward cried out, back arched and tense against the sting, but he spread his legs further apart, looking at Russel over his shoulder.
“Do it,” he whispered. “It’s good.”
Slowly thrusting in and out, Russel prepared him, dribbling lube over his fingers every so often, hooking his middle finger to brush Edward’s prostate on every pass. Only when Edward was crying out constantly, head hung and shoulders slumped, pushing back hard onto Russel’s fingers, trying to get the pressure he wanted did Russel pull his fingers away, slicking his cock and pressing it against Edward’s wet, quivering entrance.
“I love you, Ed,” he whispered. Then in one hard thrust, he pushed his length in, getting in almost all the way before he met resistance, a faint clenching of muscles around his cock, tight and teasing. When his lover’s body relaxed, he pushed the rest of the way inside, stopping when he felt the soft tickle of Edward’s balls against his.
“Yes ...” said Edward, still now, braced against the cold tile.
Russel thrust slowly in long, deep strokes, the tightness of Edward’s body rubbing his entire length maddeningly. He gripped Edward’s strong thighs and began to speed up, feeling less and wanting more, his body’s desire to come growing more and more immediate with every thrust into slick warmth. When he was close, when he could feel his balls tighten and throb, he draped himself over Edward’s back and reached around, wrapping his lube-wet hand around Edward’s cock and pumping, making Edward scream, the sound mixing with his own strangled cries.
It was over far too quickly, then, Edward’s body tightening spastically around Russel’s cock, the older boy’s come pulsing hard from his cock, splattering the wet tile, dripping down Russel’s fingers. Only when Edward had finished, when his cock was slowly softening did Russel lean back, once again taking Edward’s hips in his hands and squeezing, anchoring himself as he thrust wildly, each thrust shoving him closer and closer to orgasm. He screamed when it happened, Edward’s name falling tangled from his tongue, his cock pulsing over and over into the warm body of his lover.
He didn’t have the strength to stand, afterwards. Falling onto the cold tile, he pulled his lover with him, cock slipping out of Edward’s body in a warm rush, pressed soft and sticky and sated against his thigh as he cuddled his lover close.
“Good,” he murmured into the strands of wet blonde that clung to his face. “That was so good, baby.”
“Mmm,” said Edward. “Mmm-hmm.”
They lay together, water trickling down the tiles around them, making them shiver, Russel gently stroking Edward’s hip, kissing the boy’s hair. The edges of the tile were just beginning to bite into his shoulder, the water drying on his skin just beginning to itch, when they heard Fletcher, just outside the bathroom door.
“I don’t know what you two are doing,” he called to them, “but if you get a cold from lying around wet, I’m not taking care of you.”
“Thanks, Fletch,” yelled Russel, reluctantly allowing Edward to pull away and stand, following the older boy over to the shower, once again. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
Fletcher’s footsteps retreating down the stairs were his only answer, making him smile as he padded over to join his lover under the warm water.
“Kid’s too damned nosey,” he said when Edward turned off the water and splashed across the room to get his towel. “Knows too much, too.”
“Not surprising,” said Edward, handing Russel his towel. “We weren’t exactly quiet.”
Russel toweled off his hair and patted his body dry, gently swiping the rough terrycloth over his now hyper-sensitive cock, his soft, sated balls. “That’s true,” he said. “But he owes me anyway. I’ll bet you’ll change your mind about the greenhouse being bad now, won’t you?”
Edward laughed and dropped his towel, wrapping his arms around Russel and kissing him. “All that was just to get me to like that old rattle-trap greenhouse, Russ?”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Russel. “Noble sacrifice on my part, wasn’t it?”
“Sure, Russ,” said Edward. “Whatever you say.”
But later on, working in the greenhouse together in the unrelenting rain, Edward didn’t say a word about the constant leaks, nor the dangerous-sounding creak of wood and plastic in the wind. He just kissed Russel and continued about his work.
Warnings: (or promises, depending on your kink) NC-17 for sex, Russel/Edward ... uh, that’s it. PWP at its finest. Oh. And it's never this fun to work in a greenhouse, so don't get romantic notions. *nods*
Sentimentality
by Mistress Quickly
The thunder rolled more loudly overhead, rattling the roof of the greenhouse and letting more of the pattering rain leak in through the cracks. Edward sighed and finished measuring the water he’d been getting for Russel, then fetched a ladder and positioned it under the newest leak, clapping his hands and mending it, only to discover three more and have to move around, fixing them.
He loved working in the greenhouse with his lover, honestly he did, but there were days when the greenhouse itself drove him to distraction.
“Thanks, baby,” said Russel, not looking up when Edward passed by, brushing against him. He measured a handful of small white beans, then set them in a jar and made a note.
“Greenhouse is falling apart, Russ,” said Edward, leaning against the worktable and toying with the clasp of his lover’s suspenders. “I still think you should transmute one of your plants into a new greenhouse, and just let this one fall in on itself.”
Russel chuckled and measured out more beans. “This one’s fine, baby. Besides, Fletch and I built it. I’m attached to it.”
“More attached to it than it is to itself, Russ,” said Edward. “And don’t call me ‘baby.’”
Russel set down his cup of beans and turned to look at his lover, a comeback ready on his tongue, but quieted at the sight of the older boy. It must have been a trick of the light, he reasoned later on, because there was nothing truly exceptional about Edward’s appearance. But something about the messy strands of hair that had escaped the boy’s braid, frizzy from the constant rain, something about the way his old sweatpants hung low on his firm hips, the way his t-shirt clung to him in the humidity of the greenhouse and the sweat of working hard, the way the light made the sweat and raindrops on his flesh arm glisten, the way it reflected off his automail arm, made Russel wild with lust. Work forgotten, he grabbed a very unsuspecting Edward and kissed him, pressure of lips on lips until Edward figured out what was going on and opened his mouth, moaning and licking at Russel’s tongue, eyes sliding shut at the feel of Russel kissing him.
“Ngh,” said Russel when Edward wrapped his mismatched arms around his neck, pulling them closer together. “Mmm ...”
Then Edward was rubbing against him, grinding his hips forward against Russel’s thigh, his erection hard and warm through the thin material of Russel’s trousers, his stomach tight and perfect against Russel’s own straining cock. It was maddening, the teasing friction, the need for more, the struggle between wanting more and not wanting to let go, wanting to throw Edward on the ground and fuck him and wanting to hold him tightly, grinding against him and kissing him until their lips went numb.
It was Edward, in the end, who decided it. He pulled away, gasping as Russel’s fingers found one of his nipples through a rip in his t-shirt, his automail hand pressed against the younger boy’s erection, cupping it gently through Russel’s trousers.
“Upstairs,” he gasped. “Now. We’re filthy, and I want to fuck. Upstairs. Shower. Now.”
Russel whined, but let go of the nipple he’d been pinching gently, following Edward out of the greenhouse and into the pouring rain, following the blur of blonde hair and grey cotton through the wet grass. They sneaked into the house, shedding their shoes and dripping all the way up the steps, bolting for the bathing room when Fletcher’s voice echoed in from the living room, demanding to know if they were getting water everywhere. Laughing, they collapsed into the bathing room, locking the door and kissing each other as Fletcher’s footsteps and angry demands that they come clean up their mess floated closer.
“We’ll do it later,” Russel shouted. “I’ve got to do you now,” he said in a lower tone to Edward.
“Fuck yes,” said Edward, stripping out of his shirt and pants in two sweeping motions, leaving him naked and wet, nipples puckered in the cold from the rain, watching Russel struggle with the buttons of his own shirt, the zip of his pants, the tangle of his suspenders.
“Kiss me,” said Edward, pressing himself to his lover, slipping his tongue into Russel’s mouth, then deftly freeing the moaning boy of his clothes. He pushed the shirt off of Russel’s shoulders, along with the suspenders, then dropped to his knees and tugged Russel’s briefs and trousers down to the floor, holding them while Russel stepped clumsily out of them. He grabbed the younger boy’s hips and held them still, licking frantically all around the head of Russel’s erection, sucking the tip into his mouth and teasing the leaking slit with his tongue.
“Yes,” Russel whispered. “Oh, Ed, yes ...”
“Bath,” said Edward, licking the head of Russel’s cock once more, then standing. They stumbled over to the shower, not bothering with bathing stools, kissing and stroking whatever they could reach on one another while Edward fumbled with the showerhead. Turning warm water on full-force, he pulled away from Russel, smiling coyly at the younger boy’s moan of protest, and drenched himself, shaking his head under the stream of warm water. He felt Russel’s fingers join the ends of his hair in tickling his skin and opened his eyes, flirting through the drops of water. He handed Russel the showerhead and began lathering his washcloth with soap.
Russel bathed quickly, never once tearing his gaze away from Edward’s wet body, from the muscles shifting under Edward’s pale skin, from Edward’s erection, hard and wanting and beautiful. The moment Edward had rinsed himself and handed the showerhead back to Russel, the younger boy was on his knees, dripping soap as he grabbed Edward’s hips and shoved the boy’s length all the way into his mouth, gagging a little before his throat relaxed well enough for him to swallow, throating his lover until he needed to breathe. Pulling Edward’s cock out until just the head remained between his lips, Russel began sucking, bobbing his head back and forth, licking and sucking and moaning. When he felt warm water flowing over him, he looked up, seeing Edward’s heated gaze as the boy rinsed him, warming and arousing him, all at once.
“Fuck me, Russ,” Edward whispered, gently stepping back, pulling his cock out of Russel’s mouth and shutting off the water. “Right here on the floor. Fuck me please.”
Russel groaned and stood, grabbing an unlabeled bottle from the shelf over the bathing area and opening it, squeezing lube onto his trembling fingers. Edward got down on all fours, watching Russel over his shoulder and panting, moaning when Russel knelt behind him.
“How do you want it, baby?” murmured Russel, slowly slipping one finger into Edward’s entrance. “Fast and hard or slow and soft?”
Edward growled and thrust his hips back, forcing Russel’s finger all the way into him. “Don’t tease me, Russ.”
Russel pulled his finger out and re-wet it, thrusting it and two others into Edward’s body, all at once. Edward cried out, back arched and tense against the sting, but he spread his legs further apart, looking at Russel over his shoulder.
“Do it,” he whispered. “It’s good.”
Slowly thrusting in and out, Russel prepared him, dribbling lube over his fingers every so often, hooking his middle finger to brush Edward’s prostate on every pass. Only when Edward was crying out constantly, head hung and shoulders slumped, pushing back hard onto Russel’s fingers, trying to get the pressure he wanted did Russel pull his fingers away, slicking his cock and pressing it against Edward’s wet, quivering entrance.
“I love you, Ed,” he whispered. Then in one hard thrust, he pushed his length in, getting in almost all the way before he met resistance, a faint clenching of muscles around his cock, tight and teasing. When his lover’s body relaxed, he pushed the rest of the way inside, stopping when he felt the soft tickle of Edward’s balls against his.
“Yes ...” said Edward, still now, braced against the cold tile.
Russel thrust slowly in long, deep strokes, the tightness of Edward’s body rubbing his entire length maddeningly. He gripped Edward’s strong thighs and began to speed up, feeling less and wanting more, his body’s desire to come growing more and more immediate with every thrust into slick warmth. When he was close, when he could feel his balls tighten and throb, he draped himself over Edward’s back and reached around, wrapping his lube-wet hand around Edward’s cock and pumping, making Edward scream, the sound mixing with his own strangled cries.
It was over far too quickly, then, Edward’s body tightening spastically around Russel’s cock, the older boy’s come pulsing hard from his cock, splattering the wet tile, dripping down Russel’s fingers. Only when Edward had finished, when his cock was slowly softening did Russel lean back, once again taking Edward’s hips in his hands and squeezing, anchoring himself as he thrust wildly, each thrust shoving him closer and closer to orgasm. He screamed when it happened, Edward’s name falling tangled from his tongue, his cock pulsing over and over into the warm body of his lover.
He didn’t have the strength to stand, afterwards. Falling onto the cold tile, he pulled his lover with him, cock slipping out of Edward’s body in a warm rush, pressed soft and sticky and sated against his thigh as he cuddled his lover close.
“Good,” he murmured into the strands of wet blonde that clung to his face. “That was so good, baby.”
“Mmm,” said Edward. “Mmm-hmm.”
They lay together, water trickling down the tiles around them, making them shiver, Russel gently stroking Edward’s hip, kissing the boy’s hair. The edges of the tile were just beginning to bite into his shoulder, the water drying on his skin just beginning to itch, when they heard Fletcher, just outside the bathroom door.
“I don’t know what you two are doing,” he called to them, “but if you get a cold from lying around wet, I’m not taking care of you.”
“Thanks, Fletch,” yelled Russel, reluctantly allowing Edward to pull away and stand, following the older boy over to the shower, once again. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
Fletcher’s footsteps retreating down the stairs were his only answer, making him smile as he padded over to join his lover under the warm water.
“Kid’s too damned nosey,” he said when Edward turned off the water and splashed across the room to get his towel. “Knows too much, too.”
“Not surprising,” said Edward, handing Russel his towel. “We weren’t exactly quiet.”
Russel toweled off his hair and patted his body dry, gently swiping the rough terrycloth over his now hyper-sensitive cock, his soft, sated balls. “That’s true,” he said. “But he owes me anyway. I’ll bet you’ll change your mind about the greenhouse being bad now, won’t you?”
Edward laughed and dropped his towel, wrapping his arms around Russel and kissing him. “All that was just to get me to like that old rattle-trap greenhouse, Russ?”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Russel. “Noble sacrifice on my part, wasn’t it?”
“Sure, Russ,” said Edward. “Whatever you say.”
But later on, working in the greenhouse together in the unrelenting rain, Edward didn’t say a word about the constant leaks, nor the dangerous-sounding creak of wood and plastic in the wind. He just kissed Russel and continued about his work.