Ficcage
I totally dreamed the beginning of this the day before last. I actually woke up with the first paragraph written and running through my head yesterday. Then I remembered there'd been a prompt on the kink meme.
Title: No more yielding but a dream...
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: Elricest
Word count: 2,709
Rating: NC-17
Summary:someone on the FMA kink meme requested:
"Ed has a wet dream. Al strips him down to watch how his body reacts."
Alphonse blinked bleary eyes into the brilliant sunlit glow of the room. The thin fabric of the curtains gentled the light from hard bars of white-gold into a softer radiance. Tiny motes of dust swirled through the shafts of light, suffusing the room with a hazy dream-like quality. He wondered, in a vague and distant kind of way, if this was still a dream. But then, he chided himself with a lazy smile, dreams tended to be a bit more… well, more. Didn’t they? Certainly nothing as simple as comfort and sunlight.
His head lolled, pressing his cheek against his shoulder and it inspired him to roll his shoulders, stretching the muscles briefly and making him feel that much more relaxed when he released the tension. He sighed softly and snuggled deeper into the blankets, gaze cast to the window where he could see the shadow of snow piled against the frame. It would be cold and blindingly bright outside. A contented hum hovered in his throat for a moment as he clung tighter to the blankets, watching the swirling dust with half lidded eyes.
There was a distinct possibility that he had drifted off without realizing it when he stretched again, toes curling against soft flannel sheets, back arching off the bed in a graceful line. This, he thought idly when his far flung arm touched the cool patch of quilt in the heavy shadows at the corner of the bed, is precisely how a cat feels. And with that he withdrew his arm, curling into the sun warmed tunnel of his blankets again. This time there was no lapse in time, he was conscious of each long minute of blank contentment. His thoughts swirled in mindless paths of inconsequential frivolity, mimicking the unhurried trails of the lingering dust gently drifting into one another in their half hearted fight against gravity.
His mind was pulled from his mesmerizing study of the habits of dust motes by the quiet sound of fabric gliding over fabric. He turned his head, rolling up onto his side with a detached curiosity. The motes swirled in a sudden flurry, multiplying in their intensity with a soft fwump. He wrapped his arms around his pillow and smiled faintly, finding himself a new, and infinitely more interesting, subject for his dreamy observations.
Across the room, on the bed opposite his own, Ed's comforter had now taken up residence on the floor beside his bed. Al smiled, part of him thinking that he really should get up and cover Edward back up before he got too cold. With the warm drowsy peace of the room weighing down on him he found he could not muster the conviction to do more than lay there and stare with the same somnolent single-mindedness with which he had watched the dust float about their room.
The soft sunlight made Edward glow with the brilliance of his own vibrant coloring. His hair fanned around him in a halo of silken strands, gleaming like a fall of liquid sunlight where it spilled off the pillow to pool beside him. In sleep the fierce scowl that made his brother's temper infamous softened into smooth lines and a hard jaw, round cheeks and full lips parted ever so slightly. Pale golden lashes gleamed like jeweled lace against his cheeks, fluttering with all the delicacy of a butterfly's wings in his sleep. Ed looked peaceful in a way he could not recall ever seeing when he'd been a steel sentinel guarding over his brother's sleeping form.
His lazy smile widened and he shifted just so, pulling the covers up to his chin. It was so magnificently warm and he was so incredibly comfortable he could not remember a time that rivaled the utter contentment of this moment. A quiet sigh pushed from between his lips and he continued his study; eyes roving from his brother’s peaceful face to the haphazard sprawl of his limbs.
Skin that somehow retained its tan year round warm and smooth and golden. Long lines of lean muscle, cleanly defined and almost dramatically shadowed in the play of the winter sun on his skin. Scar tissue gleamed almost as brightly as auto mail, the smooth crisp lines of the steel contrasting sharply with the gentle ridges of muscle and bone. As if aware of the heavy gaze upon it auto mail fingers twitched, clicking together softly and drawing a muffled sound from their owner.
If he moved much more he was likely to fall off the bed. As it was the elbow of his flesh arm hung precariously off the bed, fingers anchoring that arm against gravity by virtue of a loose grasp in the fabric of his pajama bottoms. Though Alphonse knew he should wake his brother, shove him back into the middle of the bed and return his blanket to its rightful place it seemed a matter of little importance. Really he felt as if nothing were more important than merely enjoying the peace of the sleepy morning.
If part of that contentment was inspired by the knowledge of having his brother near and at peace himself, well, there were worse ways to spend a lazy wintry Sunday morning. There was a dream like quality to the air and once again Alphonse wondered if he mightn’t still be dreaming. Edward gave a quiet, sleepy noise, lips moving against each other to form inaudible words. The fingers at his hip, clenched, dragging the elastic waistband away from his body. Al’s smirk was a lopsided grin that never fully formed because his body refused to put forth the effort required for a full fledged smile.
A wistful noise of appreciation escaped with his breath and, though he was aware of it he didn’t really acknowledge it. It was a rare occurrence that he allowed himself to indulge his guilty pleasure but the little voice in his head that reminded him that the gorgeous golden body belonged to his brother -and no that was not supposed to make him relish the thought of touching it even more- was supremely unconcerned with the situation. He could write it off as a dream. Pretend, even to himself to have truly been asleep and not have known what was dream and what wasn’t. In truth he wasn’t exactly sure but he was willing to accept that. However much it felt like he was floating, drifting upon time as though it were the smooth surface of a lake and not a steadily rushing river.
Edward mumbled something else in his sleep, something that ended in a groan that made Al shiver and hum with delight. The hand that had been gripping his pants so fervently now pushed against the bed, trying to roll himself onto his side. It was difficult being that his pants were pinned between fingers and mattress but he succeeded, offering the room -and Al- his back. The pants had lost the struggle, now sitting awkwardly around Edward’s ass instead of their usual, more comfortable place at his waist.
His brother only lay like that for a brief moment before, with a disgruntled moan he fell back to the mattress, auto mail flung away from him. The metal would be cold against his chest, uncomfortably so in the chill of the room with no blanket to protect him. Again he thought he should rise and return Ed’s blanket but the mere thought of motion made him weary when he could lay in such absolute comfort and observe the sleep patterns of his beloved brother.
Another quiet sound slid past lips that had parted wider than before, blowing stray stands of bright golden hair away from his face. If he hadn’t been watching he wouldn’t have noticed the slow increase in Edward’s deep even breaths, wouldn’t have seen the difference when a light flush tinted his cheeks, made brighter by the illumination of the winter sun. He lay that way for a long time, body half turned towards the wall though his head tilted towards the room, pants clinging futilely to his body.
He was beautiful and if anything would’ve been enough to stir Alphonse from his own nest of blankets and warmth it would’ve been to touch him. That insistent voice was not, it seemed, quite content or sleepy enough to allow him to actually act on the thoughts it was deigning to permit on this warm sun-drunk morning.
Edward groaned this time, louder and more desperate than before, his lips moving silently against the air. He squirmed for a brief moment, one leg spasming, foot sliding along the bed and twisting away from the cool shield of the wall. Al’s breath caught for a moment, eyes drifting out of focus, and a quiet sound left him that even in his hazy mental state sounded dangerously close to a whimper.
The pajama bottoms had given up the fight completely, sliding down to cling half-heartedly to his thighs, the elastic snagging on the auto mail port on the left one. It may have been his imagination. It may have been the strange dream-like quality of the morning. Alphonse could’ve sworn the sun burned brighter for one dizzying moment, illuminating Edward’s body like some kind of god.
The flush on his brother’s cheeks was more pronounced, his breathing heavy enough to be just shy of panting, and his cock lay against his stomach, hard and dark with blood. Alphonse bit his lip, blush rising to his own cheeks as he drank in the sight of his brother’s body, bared before him and it took all his self control not to slide out of that bed and into Ed’s. He didn’t dare, regardless of how much he wanted to. Edward was everything to him and not even this surrealistic morning would be enough to urge him to risk their relationship. If this turned out to be naught more than a dream he could berate himself for passing up the indulgent opportunity but, on the off chance, that Edward was the only one dreaming now he’d ere on the side of caution.
Ed groaned again, voice raspy and sleep roughened and enough to make Al moan through lips pulled tightly between his teeth. Hips twitched slightly in his sleep and Ed fell onto his back. His left hand jerked, spasming in the sheets as if he were trying to hold onto something in his dream and Al wondered fleetingly just who it was his brother was dreaming about. Winry? Rose? Another thought came unbidden and, not for the first time he wondered about Ed’s determined disinterest in women. The colonel, then?
Al’s eyes unfocused, desire surging through him fierce enough to almost break the hazy spell, woven over him by sleep and sunlight, when tiny mewling whimpers issued from Edward’s throat. He clung to that dreamy sensation of floating, movements slow and leisurely as he tried not to let himself become fully coherent lest his guilt stay his hands. Hands that slowly pushed beneath the elastic of his own pajama pants, fingers hesitantly reaching out to wrap around his length, wondering how it would differ if it were Ed’s hand and not his own.
Ed moaned long and low, hands fisting in the sheets, hips jerking erratically as the dream brought him closer. His face was flushed darkly now, cheeks vibrantly red and hair clinging slightly with sweat. More moans and mutterings fell from parted lips that Al could envision wrapping around him, swallowing him down. He bit his lip to stifle his own moans, increasing the movement of his hand to match the little twitches of his brother’s hips.
It felt amazing. This was exactly the kind of morning that made every tiny spark of pleasure feel like something that should be cherished and savored. Though there was no rhythm to Ed’s movements the slow and varied pace only served to prolong the flow of his pleasure. He could only imagine what it would be like to have hands other than his own on him. To have the opportunity to make love, slow and sensual, in the golden haze of the morning. To have his brother above him, shining and glorious in the sunlight.
He fisted himself a little more firmly, gasping and hearing it echoed by his brother. Edward was squirming in disconnected movements, first one way then another. The auto mail hand clenched hard against the sheets and Al swore he heard the fabric rip but then it didn’t matter because time, which had been sluggish until that point, stopped completely.
Edward’s body arched and he thrashed particularly hard, hips lifting off the bed as he came. Golden hair in a delicate spray across his face, body flushed with pleasure, cock pulsing, coating his stomach and chest with his release. A gasping moan fell from his lips and gold eyes shot open, hazy and bewildered. Alphonse’s breath hitched almost painfully, both in awe of the beauty of his brother and terror at being discovered. He stilled his hand hoping beyond hope that Edward would be too sleepy to notice the tenseness he could not will out of his body even as he attempted to feign sleep.
He closed his eyes for a moment but could not resist the pull of his brother’s body. A loud groan of disappointment was quickly followed by a curse. He let his eyes open just a fraction, his vision blurred by his own thick lashes but he could see Edward now sitting up in his bed, looking mournfully at the torn sheets. His brother glanced towards him, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The blush burned brighter when he looked down at himself, come dripping down his chest in thick lines that Alphonse desperately wished he could lap off of that magnificent golden skin.
Another quiet groan of misery and Edward lay back in a huff, hair splayed wildly around him.
“Just a fucking dream.” Ed spat, lifting his flesh hand to trail a finger through the mess on his chest. Gold eyes narrowed considering before he brought the finger to his lips, sliding the digit into his mouth and sucking lightly. Alphonse drew in a strangled breath, his own cock twitching in his loose grip. Ed’s head whipped to the side, gold eyes wide with surprise.
Al forced his eyes closed, concentrated on steadying his breaths, relaxing his body and trying to look as though he were still asleep. It would’ve been infinitely easier if the drowsy surreal quality of the morning hadn’t been shattered the moment Edward woke. It would’ve been easier if his mind wasn’t now racing in circles trying to make up for the past twenty minutes, if guilt was not forcing a blush onto his cheeks and trying to make his breathing quicken.
After a long moment he hear faint shuffling noises, the soft thud of Edward’s pants hitting the wall beside the closet. A whisper of metal hinges and he let his eyes slide back open just in time to get a delicious view of Ed’s ass as he left the bedroom. A moment later the pipes groaned and the shower started up. Alphonse sighed in relief, tossing back his own blankets which now felt stifling after the comfortable warmth. He shifted onto his back, closing his eyes tightly and recalling every detail of Ed’s naked form.
In a distant corner of his mind he knew that this was wrong, so very wrong. That he was sick, that if Edward knew that this might be enough to drive his precious brother away from him. He clenched his fist around his shaft, stroking fast and hard, no longer able to savor the pleasure and simply looking for release. Release from the ache in his groin or release from the demons in his mind and since he’d long since given up obtaining the latter he’d accept the first. All the while telling himself that this whole morning had been nothing but a dream. When he came he raised his hand, biting down on his wrist lest his cry of “Brother!” be heard.
Wrapped up as he was in his own guilt he never noticed the lingering shadow in the doorway, nor the hungry golden gaze upon him.
Title: No more yielding but a dream...
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: Elricest
Word count: 2,709
Rating: NC-17
Summary:someone on the FMA kink meme requested:
"Ed has a wet dream. Al strips him down to watch how his body reacts."
Alphonse blinked bleary eyes into the brilliant sunlit glow of the room. The thin fabric of the curtains gentled the light from hard bars of white-gold into a softer radiance. Tiny motes of dust swirled through the shafts of light, suffusing the room with a hazy dream-like quality. He wondered, in a vague and distant kind of way, if this was still a dream. But then, he chided himself with a lazy smile, dreams tended to be a bit more… well, more. Didn’t they? Certainly nothing as simple as comfort and sunlight.
His head lolled, pressing his cheek against his shoulder and it inspired him to roll his shoulders, stretching the muscles briefly and making him feel that much more relaxed when he released the tension. He sighed softly and snuggled deeper into the blankets, gaze cast to the window where he could see the shadow of snow piled against the frame. It would be cold and blindingly bright outside. A contented hum hovered in his throat for a moment as he clung tighter to the blankets, watching the swirling dust with half lidded eyes.
There was a distinct possibility that he had drifted off without realizing it when he stretched again, toes curling against soft flannel sheets, back arching off the bed in a graceful line. This, he thought idly when his far flung arm touched the cool patch of quilt in the heavy shadows at the corner of the bed, is precisely how a cat feels. And with that he withdrew his arm, curling into the sun warmed tunnel of his blankets again. This time there was no lapse in time, he was conscious of each long minute of blank contentment. His thoughts swirled in mindless paths of inconsequential frivolity, mimicking the unhurried trails of the lingering dust gently drifting into one another in their half hearted fight against gravity.
His mind was pulled from his mesmerizing study of the habits of dust motes by the quiet sound of fabric gliding over fabric. He turned his head, rolling up onto his side with a detached curiosity. The motes swirled in a sudden flurry, multiplying in their intensity with a soft fwump. He wrapped his arms around his pillow and smiled faintly, finding himself a new, and infinitely more interesting, subject for his dreamy observations.
Across the room, on the bed opposite his own, Ed's comforter had now taken up residence on the floor beside his bed. Al smiled, part of him thinking that he really should get up and cover Edward back up before he got too cold. With the warm drowsy peace of the room weighing down on him he found he could not muster the conviction to do more than lay there and stare with the same somnolent single-mindedness with which he had watched the dust float about their room.
The soft sunlight made Edward glow with the brilliance of his own vibrant coloring. His hair fanned around him in a halo of silken strands, gleaming like a fall of liquid sunlight where it spilled off the pillow to pool beside him. In sleep the fierce scowl that made his brother's temper infamous softened into smooth lines and a hard jaw, round cheeks and full lips parted ever so slightly. Pale golden lashes gleamed like jeweled lace against his cheeks, fluttering with all the delicacy of a butterfly's wings in his sleep. Ed looked peaceful in a way he could not recall ever seeing when he'd been a steel sentinel guarding over his brother's sleeping form.
His lazy smile widened and he shifted just so, pulling the covers up to his chin. It was so magnificently warm and he was so incredibly comfortable he could not remember a time that rivaled the utter contentment of this moment. A quiet sigh pushed from between his lips and he continued his study; eyes roving from his brother’s peaceful face to the haphazard sprawl of his limbs.
Skin that somehow retained its tan year round warm and smooth and golden. Long lines of lean muscle, cleanly defined and almost dramatically shadowed in the play of the winter sun on his skin. Scar tissue gleamed almost as brightly as auto mail, the smooth crisp lines of the steel contrasting sharply with the gentle ridges of muscle and bone. As if aware of the heavy gaze upon it auto mail fingers twitched, clicking together softly and drawing a muffled sound from their owner.
If he moved much more he was likely to fall off the bed. As it was the elbow of his flesh arm hung precariously off the bed, fingers anchoring that arm against gravity by virtue of a loose grasp in the fabric of his pajama bottoms. Though Alphonse knew he should wake his brother, shove him back into the middle of the bed and return his blanket to its rightful place it seemed a matter of little importance. Really he felt as if nothing were more important than merely enjoying the peace of the sleepy morning.
If part of that contentment was inspired by the knowledge of having his brother near and at peace himself, well, there were worse ways to spend a lazy wintry Sunday morning. There was a dream like quality to the air and once again Alphonse wondered if he mightn’t still be dreaming. Edward gave a quiet, sleepy noise, lips moving against each other to form inaudible words. The fingers at his hip, clenched, dragging the elastic waistband away from his body. Al’s smirk was a lopsided grin that never fully formed because his body refused to put forth the effort required for a full fledged smile.
A wistful noise of appreciation escaped with his breath and, though he was aware of it he didn’t really acknowledge it. It was a rare occurrence that he allowed himself to indulge his guilty pleasure but the little voice in his head that reminded him that the gorgeous golden body belonged to his brother -and no that was not supposed to make him relish the thought of touching it even more- was supremely unconcerned with the situation. He could write it off as a dream. Pretend, even to himself to have truly been asleep and not have known what was dream and what wasn’t. In truth he wasn’t exactly sure but he was willing to accept that. However much it felt like he was floating, drifting upon time as though it were the smooth surface of a lake and not a steadily rushing river.
Edward mumbled something else in his sleep, something that ended in a groan that made Al shiver and hum with delight. The hand that had been gripping his pants so fervently now pushed against the bed, trying to roll himself onto his side. It was difficult being that his pants were pinned between fingers and mattress but he succeeded, offering the room -and Al- his back. The pants had lost the struggle, now sitting awkwardly around Edward’s ass instead of their usual, more comfortable place at his waist.
His brother only lay like that for a brief moment before, with a disgruntled moan he fell back to the mattress, auto mail flung away from him. The metal would be cold against his chest, uncomfortably so in the chill of the room with no blanket to protect him. Again he thought he should rise and return Ed’s blanket but the mere thought of motion made him weary when he could lay in such absolute comfort and observe the sleep patterns of his beloved brother.
Another quiet sound slid past lips that had parted wider than before, blowing stray stands of bright golden hair away from his face. If he hadn’t been watching he wouldn’t have noticed the slow increase in Edward’s deep even breaths, wouldn’t have seen the difference when a light flush tinted his cheeks, made brighter by the illumination of the winter sun. He lay that way for a long time, body half turned towards the wall though his head tilted towards the room, pants clinging futilely to his body.
He was beautiful and if anything would’ve been enough to stir Alphonse from his own nest of blankets and warmth it would’ve been to touch him. That insistent voice was not, it seemed, quite content or sleepy enough to allow him to actually act on the thoughts it was deigning to permit on this warm sun-drunk morning.
Edward groaned this time, louder and more desperate than before, his lips moving silently against the air. He squirmed for a brief moment, one leg spasming, foot sliding along the bed and twisting away from the cool shield of the wall. Al’s breath caught for a moment, eyes drifting out of focus, and a quiet sound left him that even in his hazy mental state sounded dangerously close to a whimper.
The pajama bottoms had given up the fight completely, sliding down to cling half-heartedly to his thighs, the elastic snagging on the auto mail port on the left one. It may have been his imagination. It may have been the strange dream-like quality of the morning. Alphonse could’ve sworn the sun burned brighter for one dizzying moment, illuminating Edward’s body like some kind of god.
The flush on his brother’s cheeks was more pronounced, his breathing heavy enough to be just shy of panting, and his cock lay against his stomach, hard and dark with blood. Alphonse bit his lip, blush rising to his own cheeks as he drank in the sight of his brother’s body, bared before him and it took all his self control not to slide out of that bed and into Ed’s. He didn’t dare, regardless of how much he wanted to. Edward was everything to him and not even this surrealistic morning would be enough to urge him to risk their relationship. If this turned out to be naught more than a dream he could berate himself for passing up the indulgent opportunity but, on the off chance, that Edward was the only one dreaming now he’d ere on the side of caution.
Ed groaned again, voice raspy and sleep roughened and enough to make Al moan through lips pulled tightly between his teeth. Hips twitched slightly in his sleep and Ed fell onto his back. His left hand jerked, spasming in the sheets as if he were trying to hold onto something in his dream and Al wondered fleetingly just who it was his brother was dreaming about. Winry? Rose? Another thought came unbidden and, not for the first time he wondered about Ed’s determined disinterest in women. The colonel, then?
Al’s eyes unfocused, desire surging through him fierce enough to almost break the hazy spell, woven over him by sleep and sunlight, when tiny mewling whimpers issued from Edward’s throat. He clung to that dreamy sensation of floating, movements slow and leisurely as he tried not to let himself become fully coherent lest his guilt stay his hands. Hands that slowly pushed beneath the elastic of his own pajama pants, fingers hesitantly reaching out to wrap around his length, wondering how it would differ if it were Ed’s hand and not his own.
Ed moaned long and low, hands fisting in the sheets, hips jerking erratically as the dream brought him closer. His face was flushed darkly now, cheeks vibrantly red and hair clinging slightly with sweat. More moans and mutterings fell from parted lips that Al could envision wrapping around him, swallowing him down. He bit his lip to stifle his own moans, increasing the movement of his hand to match the little twitches of his brother’s hips.
It felt amazing. This was exactly the kind of morning that made every tiny spark of pleasure feel like something that should be cherished and savored. Though there was no rhythm to Ed’s movements the slow and varied pace only served to prolong the flow of his pleasure. He could only imagine what it would be like to have hands other than his own on him. To have the opportunity to make love, slow and sensual, in the golden haze of the morning. To have his brother above him, shining and glorious in the sunlight.
He fisted himself a little more firmly, gasping and hearing it echoed by his brother. Edward was squirming in disconnected movements, first one way then another. The auto mail hand clenched hard against the sheets and Al swore he heard the fabric rip but then it didn’t matter because time, which had been sluggish until that point, stopped completely.
Edward’s body arched and he thrashed particularly hard, hips lifting off the bed as he came. Golden hair in a delicate spray across his face, body flushed with pleasure, cock pulsing, coating his stomach and chest with his release. A gasping moan fell from his lips and gold eyes shot open, hazy and bewildered. Alphonse’s breath hitched almost painfully, both in awe of the beauty of his brother and terror at being discovered. He stilled his hand hoping beyond hope that Edward would be too sleepy to notice the tenseness he could not will out of his body even as he attempted to feign sleep.
He closed his eyes for a moment but could not resist the pull of his brother’s body. A loud groan of disappointment was quickly followed by a curse. He let his eyes open just a fraction, his vision blurred by his own thick lashes but he could see Edward now sitting up in his bed, looking mournfully at the torn sheets. His brother glanced towards him, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The blush burned brighter when he looked down at himself, come dripping down his chest in thick lines that Alphonse desperately wished he could lap off of that magnificent golden skin.
Another quiet groan of misery and Edward lay back in a huff, hair splayed wildly around him.
“Just a fucking dream.” Ed spat, lifting his flesh hand to trail a finger through the mess on his chest. Gold eyes narrowed considering before he brought the finger to his lips, sliding the digit into his mouth and sucking lightly. Alphonse drew in a strangled breath, his own cock twitching in his loose grip. Ed’s head whipped to the side, gold eyes wide with surprise.
Al forced his eyes closed, concentrated on steadying his breaths, relaxing his body and trying to look as though he were still asleep. It would’ve been infinitely easier if the drowsy surreal quality of the morning hadn’t been shattered the moment Edward woke. It would’ve been easier if his mind wasn’t now racing in circles trying to make up for the past twenty minutes, if guilt was not forcing a blush onto his cheeks and trying to make his breathing quicken.
After a long moment he hear faint shuffling noises, the soft thud of Edward’s pants hitting the wall beside the closet. A whisper of metal hinges and he let his eyes slide back open just in time to get a delicious view of Ed’s ass as he left the bedroom. A moment later the pipes groaned and the shower started up. Alphonse sighed in relief, tossing back his own blankets which now felt stifling after the comfortable warmth. He shifted onto his back, closing his eyes tightly and recalling every detail of Ed’s naked form.
In a distant corner of his mind he knew that this was wrong, so very wrong. That he was sick, that if Edward knew that this might be enough to drive his precious brother away from him. He clenched his fist around his shaft, stroking fast and hard, no longer able to savor the pleasure and simply looking for release. Release from the ache in his groin or release from the demons in his mind and since he’d long since given up obtaining the latter he’d accept the first. All the while telling himself that this whole morning had been nothing but a dream. When he came he raised his hand, biting down on his wrist lest his cry of “Brother!” be heard.
Wrapped up as he was in his own guilt he never noticed the lingering shadow in the doorway, nor the hungry golden gaze upon him.