Full Metal Alchemist, "Domesticity Prologue: Alone," Russel/Edward, NC-17
Oh my fucking GOSH Domesticity JUST WON'T GO AWAY.
Here is the PROLOGUE to the thing. If it looks familiar ... *snerk* it should. And that's all SailorMac's fault, because she said, "If I read this and didn't know that it all turned out okay in Domesticity, I'd be very sad right now. Aw, jeez. Somebody smack me.
And here's the rest of the arc. Considering that chapter one was just a challenge (write 1000 words about masturbation in 54 minutes), this story really has stolen my soul. Oh, and if anyone's interested, here's the order in which these little fucking BASTARDS were written:
1, 2, 9, 3, 6, 4, 5, 7, 8, (realized it was an arc about here), 10, 11, 12, 13, 12 omake, epilogue, prologue. *tears hair out*
Domesticity, in its entirety. Let me know if you liked it!
[Prologue: Alone]
Chapter 1: Almost
Chapter 2: Sex Ed
Chapter 2.25: Nightmare
Chapter 2.5: Home
Chapter 2.75: Suspended
Chapter 3: Warm Up
Chapter 4: Gifted
Chapter 5: Warm
Chapter 6: Long Distance
Chapter 7: Does a Body Good
Chapter 8: Uniformity
Chapter 9: Post Traumatic
Chapter 10: Departure
Chapter 11: Top to Bottom
Chapter 12: A Time to Heal
Chapter 12 omake: Down Time
Chapter 13: Domesticity
Epilogue: Blessings
OH! Warnings. Lemon. Sex. F-word (ooooh). Russel and Edward at the very beginning. Which is why it's the Prologue. *insane laughter*
I'm really nervous about posting this. I don't know why.
[holy fucking hell i hate html tags]
Domesticity
Prologue
Alone
by Mistress Quickly
Russel punched him, right in the jaw, the first time.
He just wasn’t expecting it, was all. Edward had been trying to kill him for several days, as it was, so Russel figured it was just some sort of roundabout attack, a way to get him to drop his defenses so he could get in a really good shot. He had no idea that Edward was just trying to kiss him.
No idea at all.
Growing up in a small town, he’d gotten pretty well used to the idea that his attraction to boys was wrong, was a passing thing, perhaps even a punishment for messing with Alchemy so much. And where there were beautiful men everywhere he went-especially in Xenotime, where all the men were miners or farmers, and therefore were beautifully muscled and not ashamed to take off their shirts when they were too hot or drunk-he’d never met one who didn’t want a nice, shapely woman to keep him company, never met one who’d want some scrawny kid with hair that wouldn’t stay out of his eyes.
Why should Edward Elric have been any different?
But he was different, all golden eyes and flowing hair, snarling at Russel for hitting him, the blush forming on his pale cheeks the only indication that the kiss had been more than another attack, something other than a devious plot. Russel watched Edward’s chest rise and fall, watched embarrassment creep into those amazing eyes.
“What’d you do that for?” he said.
“Me?” said Russel, still on the defensive, totally confused. “What’d you kiss me for?”
Had their positions been switched, had Russel been the one blushing and panting, his jaw smarting from Edward’s fist, he would have turned and run, embarrassed and hurt and ashamed and rejected. But Edward was, back then, stronger than Russel, more sure of who he was, less worried about what others thought of him. And Russel was glad of it, because Edward wasn’t afraid to be honest.
“What do you think I kissed you for, idiot?” he said. “You’re hot. And you’ve been staring at that Rick kid’s ass all afternoon. I thought maybe ...”
And it was enough. More than enough. Yes, I want you back, Russel wanted to say. Desperately want you.
“You ...?”
“Yeah,” said Edward, crossing his mismatched arms over his chest. “How about you?”
And then Russel was kissing him, bending to accommodate the difference in their height, his hand on Edward’s soft cheek, feeling the boy’s jaw move as he opened his mouth, tongue slipping out to tease Russel’s, lips parting for Russel to taste him properly. He didn’t moan, merely sighed, his breath warm and tickly against Russel’s face. And it drove Russel wild, made him absolutely ache for the man kissing him, wanting with lust hotter and harder than he’d ever felt anything in his life.
They kissed until Russel’s lips were numb, something he’d not thought could happen from kissing, and when Edward pulled away, Russel was embarrassed, covering his erection with his hands, not wanting Edward to see the bulge, not wanting him to see the wet spot glistening where precome had soaked through the cotton of his work-pants. It caught Edward’s attention, of course, to see Russel covering himself, and he laughed, soft and gentle, not mocking or cruel.
“You know,” he said, “I never really thought of it before, but that’s a real plus to kissing another guy.”
Russel blinked at him. “What?”
Edward stroked his metal hand over the bulge in his own pants. “I don’t have to be embarrassed about this,” he said. “You’ve got one, too.”
You’ve got one, too, Russel’s brain repeated. His cock. Penis. Member. Erection. Erection. Because of me. Because he was kissing me. And he began to wonder, What would it be like to touch his? Would it be like mine? Would he like what I like? And what would he taste like? Would he be bitter and salty, like my precome and come?
Edward laughed. “You ever done this before, Tringham?”
“My name’s Russel,” Russel said, shuddering. The people of his hometown had called his father “Tringham,” and where he still idolized the man, flirting with Edward Elric was one situation in which he did not want to be thinking about his father. “And no, I haven’t. Why, have you?”
Edward’s smirk melted a little. “No,” he said. “Never. Not even with girls.”
“Do you like girls?” said Russel, not even knowing if that sort of thing was possible.
Edward wrinkled his nose. “Nah,” he said. “My best friend’s a girl, but ...” He stepped forward and slipped his hand under Russel’s hands, resting his fingertips right over the wet spot on the younger boy’s pants. “Is this okay?”
Russel nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice an embarrassing squeak, not anything like his normal tone. “Can I ...?”
“Yeah,” said Edward, arching up to kiss him. Russel kissed him back, feeling down the boy’s stomach-all those hard muscles, and his brain somehow decided to conjure up a fantasy of licking each one, down to his navel, then lower-past Edward’s belt to the swelling of his erection. And it was weird, feeling Edward’s cock through his pants, touching a hard penis without feeling the pleasure he associated with touching his own.
Not that there wasn’t any pleasure. Just a different sort, was all. An all-over kind of pleasure, like Russel felt when he woke up in the middle of a wet dream, not yet having come, rather than a focused pleasure between his legs.
Edward stroked him, good rhythm and pressure through his pants, not nearly enough friction for Russel to come, but plenty to make him rub Edward’s cock in return, wanting him, loving the feel of a man under his fingertips. The kiss grew less skilled, more hard breathing and tongue pressing into Russel’s tongue, and soon he pulled away, gasping and growling.
Russel had never thought about someone growling during sex. Moaning, sure-he caught himself wanting to moan whenever he touched himself, late at night, on a regular basis-but growling?
But before he had a chance to ask if he’d done something wrong, Edward’s hand-his flesh hand, cool from the autumn air, smooth from the protection of the gloves he always wore-was slipping into Russel’s pants, his metal hand unbuttoning and unzipping them before Russel could get his mouth to work, before he could form a question to ask.
“Please,” said Edward, “let me touch you. Just let me touch you.”
“Yes,” whispered Russel. “Please.”
And then Edward’s hand was wrapped around Russel’s cock, tugging on the shaft, thumb playing with the tip, smearing the precome that was coming out so copiously that it was trickling down the length, and Russel was panting, back pressed into the door of the shed, praying it would hold his weight, because his legs certainly weren’t going to.
“Good?” said Edward, and it wasn’t a teasing sort of question. That day, it was an honest question. So Russel gave him an honest answer.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Good ... good.”
He’d never used that word before. It felt good. But not as good as Edward’s hand felt.
“Are you ... are you going to ...?”
Russel nodded, breathing hard and watching Edward. “Yeah,” he said. “Pretty soon.”
“Oh,” said Edward, disappointed. “Can I, um ...” He licked his lips, his hand stilling. “Can I taste it?”
The suggestion more than made up for the sudden lack of friction. Russel made a strangled sort of cry and reached out, pushing down on the top of Edward’s head, his tongue refusing to form the word yes. And then Edward was bending, kneeling and arching up, reaching for Russel, pulling the younger boy’s cock down while Russel bent his knees, crouching enough that Edward could reach him, and then his cock was in Edward’s mouth, was in his mouth, not very much, just enough to bump the back of his throat, but at the time ...
Russel came after four hard sucks, tugging at Edward’s hair to warn him, gasping and watching as the boy swallowed the first few spurts, then backed off, coughing and jerking as the rest sprayed his face.
“Sorry,” Russel gasped, kneeling and digging in his pocket for a handkerchief. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t warn you ...”
Edward took the handkerchief and cleaned himself, watching Russel through his bangs. “Yeah you did,” he said. “I’m just not used to ... swallowing it.”
“Oh. You’ve ...?”
He shook his head. “Nah, only my own.”
When Edward kissed him, he tasted like Russel’s come, but different than it had tasted when Russel licked it off his own fingers. Like his come mixed with the taste of Edward’s earlier kisses, and the thought of his own come being in Edward Elric’s mouth made him want to cry with gratitude.
“Edward,” he whispered, not knowing him well enough at all at that time to call him “Ed,” the boy’s preferred name. “Let me ... for you?”
And in the space of six heartbeats, he watched Edward pull away, watched him stand and undo his pants, watched him pull his cock free of the fabric, hard and wet and beautiful. Watched Edward’s beautiful eyes as he leant forward to take it in his mouth, watched them close as he sucked on the tip. Watched Edward arch as he slid deeper into Russel’s mouth, the spongy tip of the head pressing into the roof of Russel’s mouth.
Watched Edward jump and yank his cock out of Russel’s mouth as someone knocked on the shed door.
“Fuck,” he swore, zipping his pants and looking deliciously guilty.
“Russel, are you in there?” It was Fletcher, his voice high-pitched with concern. With worry.
“Yeah, I’m in here,” said Russel, glancing at Edward to make sure he was presentable before opening the door. “What’s up?”
Fletcher beamed. “Al and I found a kitten, and we’re going to take it to Elisa as a get-well present. Want to come?”
Then Edward’s hand was at his back, warm and stroking him like a lover. “Yeah, we’ll come,” he said, voice even and deep, not a hint of the lust Russel had heard in it earlier.
And so, together, they took the little grey tabby to Elisa, Edward’s hip brushing Russel’s as they stood around her bed, telling her about a bird’s nest in one of the lemon trees, about Belsio marking the tree with a little sign that read “The Nursery” so they would know to be careful while picking lemons from it. Returned to Belsio’s together to eat dinner, Edward’s toes tickling Russel’s shin through the entire meal, then said goodnight to each other politely as their respective younger brothers dragged them off to separate rooms in the house.
Russel lay in bed awake, long after Fletcher’s breathing had deepened and turned into soft little snores, replaying Edward’s lips against his, Edward’s mouth around his cock. Edward’s cock in his mouth, hard and salty and warm.
Heard Edward padding down the hall to the bathroom, the older boy’s mismatched gait pulling him out of the light sleep he’d achieved, and wondered if Edward was going there to finish what they’d begun.
After a sleepless hour had passed, he rose and found pen and paper, and began to write.
~*~*~*~
Dear Edward.
Curly handwriting, almost like a vine, covered the page. Tiny letters forming luscious words, luscious words forming erotic sentences, erotic sentences forming an erection in Edward Elric’s pants that hurt so badly he wanted to cry.
Wanted to get off at the next station and return to Xenotime, too. But that was out of the question. He was on a mission and couldn’t be distracted by ... by ...
Oh, but Russel’s come had tasted so good, bitter and warm in his mouth. His cock had felt good too, hard and slick on Edward’s tongue, bigger than he’d expected and lovely to lick and suck, the boy’s mouth and kisses no small pleasure, either.
He sighed and re-read the letter. The first part he’d read three times. The second bit ...
Well, he was young. Fifteen years old and hormones raging inside him, he’d had to go hide in the back storage area of the train the first time he’d read the second half of the letter. And even at that, he’d heard the conductor coming and had stuffed his leaking erection back into his pants just in time for the door to open, smoothly explaining that he was checking his cargo to insure it hadn’t gotten damaged on the journey, not jerking off in public, even though he knew it was totally wrong and would gross out anyone who caught him.
Now, his balls were informing him that if he didn’t hurry up and let them come NOW, they’d make him come in his sleep, and that would just be too embarrassing. He looked at the letter.
Dear Edward,
I am so sorry for taking your name and tarnishing your reputation as a morally upstanding individual and respectable State Alchemist. I was childishly desperate and made a bad choice. It is my deepest hope that you will, someday, be able to forgive me. I am certain that you already understand my decision. Forgiveness I will trust to time.
I regret that you are leaving tomorrow morning, so early. So much has happened since you came to Xenotime, so much that I won’t be able to tell anyone about. You saved me and my little brother from that tyrant Mugear. I cannot thank you enough for that, nor can I thank you enough for saving Xenotime from the red water. You are such a hero, yet you act as though it is your duty to do such superhuman things. I am only a year younger than you, but I sincerely doubt that, when I am your age, I will do anything remotely as heroic as the things you have done in my town.
You are an amazing man, Edward Elric. To me, and to all who meet you.
It was an ego-stroke, to Edward, reading such humble words of thanks and praise, especially coming from a boy he’d fallen for, so totally fallen for. The first time he’d read the letter, he’d only made it that far, blushing horribly and feeling his ego swell, dodging Al’s attempts to swipe the letter, knowing that the boy would just tease him for having yet another person think he was Superman.
Later on, when he’d gotten to the second half, he was immensely pleased that he’d kept the letter away from Al. There were some things his little brother just didn’t need to know. And where he knew he shouldn’t be hiding things from Al ...
Well, he was doing it anyway.
I think I may have told you yesterday, the letter continued, that I’ve never been with a boy before. I’ve never been with a girl, either, Edward. Never wanted to be. And I’ve never been as attracted to a person as I was-as I am-to you. I was impressed by you when we fought each other, and again when we fought together, but once it was all over, once my town was safe and my brother was well, not sick from red-water poisoning, I really began to notice you.
You have the most amazing eyes. Gold, almost like a cat’s. Like a darker version of your hair.
You have the most amazing skin, so smooth and soft. I watched you bathe, tonight. After Fletcher interrupted us, I wanted to return the pleasure you gave me. Wanted to make you feel good, the way you made me feel good. So I followed you when you went to bathe, watched you wash your hair, watched you wash your body. When you threw your head back and let the water rinse you, I came, stroking myself and chewing my lip to keep anyone from noticing me.
You should look up more often. I was in the tree, just over you. Watching you touch yourself all over, but not where your body wanted it most. How did you manage to resist touching yourself? You were so hard, it had to hurt. And it wouldn’t have taken long ... you were so close when I was sucking on you, and I came so quickly, watching you, even though it was my second time.
But you didn’t.
I heard you get up tonight, heard you going into the bathing room. You’re in there now, and I can’t help but wonder if you’re touching yourself now, your soft hand wrapped around that beautiful cock that I only got to taste for a moment, only got to taste long enough to know that I want to taste it more.
I wonder what you’d do if I came in and asked to help. If I came in and offered my mouth. My hands. If I offered my ass. Would you know what to do with it? I wouldn’t. I’ve only heard rumors. Nothing that would really be of any use.
There was more. But Edward’s pants were feeling painfully tight, once again, and there was precome soaking through the fabric, sticky and wet. He couldn’t just go jerk off in the cargo area. He just couldn’t, but ...
He stood, tucking the letter into the pocket of his jacket. “Be right back, Al,” he said.
“Okay, Brother,” said Al, still pouting that Edward hadn’t given him the letter. Edward resisted the urge to pat the armor gently on the head, then drew his red jacket around himself, concealing his erection and stained pants until he reached the cargo area at the back of the train.
Just make it quick, he told himself, although he really couldn’t imagine it taking long at all.
Writing this, I’m getting hard again, harder than I usually get when I think about sex. When I think about guys. There’s a boy who lives just down the way, and I used to think about him when I’d touch myself, but he’s nothing like you. Not muscular and strong, soft and beautiful. You’re a contradiction, Edward Elric, and I love it.
I’m certain you’re touching yourself. Certain that you’re touching yourself. You don’t know I’m still awake, don’t know I’m in here, thinking about you, but I am. And since we couldn’t come together earlier, we’ll come together now.
Edward freed his cock and wrapped his flesh hand around it, metal hand shaking as he held the letter. The end really was the best part. He knew what Russel was talking about. Knew the shape and size of the younger boy’s cock, knew the soft brown curls at the base. Knew the texture and flavor of Russel’s come, knew the feel of it pulsing, warm and wet out of the delightfully smooth tip of the boy’s cock.
I think about sucking you read the letter. I’m thinking about kneeling on the tiles of the bathing room floor, naked and hard, your cock in my mouth and your balls in my hand. Do you like having them cupped, I wonder? Stroked? Tickled? Pulled?
Edward drew a shaky breath. Stroked, he answered, silently. Maybe pulled, a little. Not tickled ...
He stroked faster, eyes sliding over the letter.
I think about licking you all over, think about squeezing your ass. I think about ...
Then there was a smudge, one that made Edward suspect that Russel had come, pressing down with his pen in his hurry to catch his semen in a handkerchief before he made a mess. And that sort of thing just couldn’t make him come. Not at all.
But it did. He gasped and emptied himself into his own handkerchief, pulse after pulse of wet semen, just as he’d done in the bathing room, relieving all the tension he’d felt since he’d swallowed Russel’s come, totally unaware that just across the hall, the man of his fantasies was coming as well, hard and wet and beautiful, completely alone.
... teasing the backs of your thighs, where you’re probably ticklish. I think about swallowing your come, like you did for me, continued the letter. Edward cleaned himself up and folded the letter, returning to his seat and his little brother, who made an eerily knowing sound in greeting.
“You know, Brother,” said Al, “you can’t keep secrets from me forever.”
“No, Al, I probably can’t,” said Edward, curling up for a post-orgasm nap. And since I’m never getting rid of this letter, chances are good that you’ll happen across it someday, he added, mentally. But, truth be told, the letter was worth it.
Thank you for being my first, the letter read, the last line. I will never find anyone like you. You are an amazing man.
Edward drifted to sleep, warm and sated and lonely and wishing, with more of his heart than he was willing to admit, that he was back in Xenotime, curled up in the arms of a man who wanted him, despite his temper, despite his metal limbs.
Despite everything.
And even in the company of his younger brother, his world, Edward Elric slept, feeling very, very alone.
Here is the PROLOGUE to the thing. If it looks familiar ... *snerk* it should. And that's all SailorMac's fault, because she said, "If I read this and didn't know that it all turned out okay in Domesticity, I'd be very sad right now. Aw, jeez. Somebody smack me.
And here's the rest of the arc. Considering that chapter one was just a challenge (write 1000 words about masturbation in 54 minutes), this story really has stolen my soul. Oh, and if anyone's interested, here's the order in which these little fucking BASTARDS were written:
1, 2, 9, 3, 6, 4, 5, 7, 8, (realized it was an arc about here), 10, 11, 12, 13, 12 omake, epilogue, prologue. *tears hair out*
Domesticity, in its entirety. Let me know if you liked it!
[Prologue: Alone]
Chapter 1: Almost
Chapter 2: Sex Ed
Chapter 2.25: Nightmare
Chapter 2.5: Home
Chapter 2.75: Suspended
Chapter 3: Warm Up
Chapter 4: Gifted
Chapter 5: Warm
Chapter 6: Long Distance
Chapter 7: Does a Body Good
Chapter 8: Uniformity
Chapter 9: Post Traumatic
Chapter 10: Departure
Chapter 11: Top to Bottom
Chapter 12: A Time to Heal
Chapter 12 omake: Down Time
Chapter 13: Domesticity
Epilogue: Blessings
OH! Warnings. Lemon. Sex. F-word (ooooh). Russel and Edward at the very beginning. Which is why it's the Prologue. *insane laughter*
I'm really nervous about posting this. I don't know why.
[holy fucking hell i hate html tags]
Domesticity
Prologue
Alone
by Mistress Quickly
Russel punched him, right in the jaw, the first time.
He just wasn’t expecting it, was all. Edward had been trying to kill him for several days, as it was, so Russel figured it was just some sort of roundabout attack, a way to get him to drop his defenses so he could get in a really good shot. He had no idea that Edward was just trying to kiss him.
No idea at all.
Growing up in a small town, he’d gotten pretty well used to the idea that his attraction to boys was wrong, was a passing thing, perhaps even a punishment for messing with Alchemy so much. And where there were beautiful men everywhere he went-especially in Xenotime, where all the men were miners or farmers, and therefore were beautifully muscled and not ashamed to take off their shirts when they were too hot or drunk-he’d never met one who didn’t want a nice, shapely woman to keep him company, never met one who’d want some scrawny kid with hair that wouldn’t stay out of his eyes.
Why should Edward Elric have been any different?
But he was different, all golden eyes and flowing hair, snarling at Russel for hitting him, the blush forming on his pale cheeks the only indication that the kiss had been more than another attack, something other than a devious plot. Russel watched Edward’s chest rise and fall, watched embarrassment creep into those amazing eyes.
“What’d you do that for?” he said.
“Me?” said Russel, still on the defensive, totally confused. “What’d you kiss me for?”
Had their positions been switched, had Russel been the one blushing and panting, his jaw smarting from Edward’s fist, he would have turned and run, embarrassed and hurt and ashamed and rejected. But Edward was, back then, stronger than Russel, more sure of who he was, less worried about what others thought of him. And Russel was glad of it, because Edward wasn’t afraid to be honest.
“What do you think I kissed you for, idiot?” he said. “You’re hot. And you’ve been staring at that Rick kid’s ass all afternoon. I thought maybe ...”
And it was enough. More than enough. Yes, I want you back, Russel wanted to say. Desperately want you.
“You ...?”
“Yeah,” said Edward, crossing his mismatched arms over his chest. “How about you?”
And then Russel was kissing him, bending to accommodate the difference in their height, his hand on Edward’s soft cheek, feeling the boy’s jaw move as he opened his mouth, tongue slipping out to tease Russel’s, lips parting for Russel to taste him properly. He didn’t moan, merely sighed, his breath warm and tickly against Russel’s face. And it drove Russel wild, made him absolutely ache for the man kissing him, wanting with lust hotter and harder than he’d ever felt anything in his life.
They kissed until Russel’s lips were numb, something he’d not thought could happen from kissing, and when Edward pulled away, Russel was embarrassed, covering his erection with his hands, not wanting Edward to see the bulge, not wanting him to see the wet spot glistening where precome had soaked through the cotton of his work-pants. It caught Edward’s attention, of course, to see Russel covering himself, and he laughed, soft and gentle, not mocking or cruel.
“You know,” he said, “I never really thought of it before, but that’s a real plus to kissing another guy.”
Russel blinked at him. “What?”
Edward stroked his metal hand over the bulge in his own pants. “I don’t have to be embarrassed about this,” he said. “You’ve got one, too.”
You’ve got one, too, Russel’s brain repeated. His cock. Penis. Member. Erection. Erection. Because of me. Because he was kissing me. And he began to wonder, What would it be like to touch his? Would it be like mine? Would he like what I like? And what would he taste like? Would he be bitter and salty, like my precome and come?
Edward laughed. “You ever done this before, Tringham?”
“My name’s Russel,” Russel said, shuddering. The people of his hometown had called his father “Tringham,” and where he still idolized the man, flirting with Edward Elric was one situation in which he did not want to be thinking about his father. “And no, I haven’t. Why, have you?”
Edward’s smirk melted a little. “No,” he said. “Never. Not even with girls.”
“Do you like girls?” said Russel, not even knowing if that sort of thing was possible.
Edward wrinkled his nose. “Nah,” he said. “My best friend’s a girl, but ...” He stepped forward and slipped his hand under Russel’s hands, resting his fingertips right over the wet spot on the younger boy’s pants. “Is this okay?”
Russel nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice an embarrassing squeak, not anything like his normal tone. “Can I ...?”
“Yeah,” said Edward, arching up to kiss him. Russel kissed him back, feeling down the boy’s stomach-all those hard muscles, and his brain somehow decided to conjure up a fantasy of licking each one, down to his navel, then lower-past Edward’s belt to the swelling of his erection. And it was weird, feeling Edward’s cock through his pants, touching a hard penis without feeling the pleasure he associated with touching his own.
Not that there wasn’t any pleasure. Just a different sort, was all. An all-over kind of pleasure, like Russel felt when he woke up in the middle of a wet dream, not yet having come, rather than a focused pleasure between his legs.
Edward stroked him, good rhythm and pressure through his pants, not nearly enough friction for Russel to come, but plenty to make him rub Edward’s cock in return, wanting him, loving the feel of a man under his fingertips. The kiss grew less skilled, more hard breathing and tongue pressing into Russel’s tongue, and soon he pulled away, gasping and growling.
Russel had never thought about someone growling during sex. Moaning, sure-he caught himself wanting to moan whenever he touched himself, late at night, on a regular basis-but growling?
But before he had a chance to ask if he’d done something wrong, Edward’s hand-his flesh hand, cool from the autumn air, smooth from the protection of the gloves he always wore-was slipping into Russel’s pants, his metal hand unbuttoning and unzipping them before Russel could get his mouth to work, before he could form a question to ask.
“Please,” said Edward, “let me touch you. Just let me touch you.”
“Yes,” whispered Russel. “Please.”
And then Edward’s hand was wrapped around Russel’s cock, tugging on the shaft, thumb playing with the tip, smearing the precome that was coming out so copiously that it was trickling down the length, and Russel was panting, back pressed into the door of the shed, praying it would hold his weight, because his legs certainly weren’t going to.
“Good?” said Edward, and it wasn’t a teasing sort of question. That day, it was an honest question. So Russel gave him an honest answer.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Good ... good.”
He’d never used that word before. It felt good. But not as good as Edward’s hand felt.
“Are you ... are you going to ...?”
Russel nodded, breathing hard and watching Edward. “Yeah,” he said. “Pretty soon.”
“Oh,” said Edward, disappointed. “Can I, um ...” He licked his lips, his hand stilling. “Can I taste it?”
The suggestion more than made up for the sudden lack of friction. Russel made a strangled sort of cry and reached out, pushing down on the top of Edward’s head, his tongue refusing to form the word yes. And then Edward was bending, kneeling and arching up, reaching for Russel, pulling the younger boy’s cock down while Russel bent his knees, crouching enough that Edward could reach him, and then his cock was in Edward’s mouth, was in his mouth, not very much, just enough to bump the back of his throat, but at the time ...
Russel came after four hard sucks, tugging at Edward’s hair to warn him, gasping and watching as the boy swallowed the first few spurts, then backed off, coughing and jerking as the rest sprayed his face.
“Sorry,” Russel gasped, kneeling and digging in his pocket for a handkerchief. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t warn you ...”
Edward took the handkerchief and cleaned himself, watching Russel through his bangs. “Yeah you did,” he said. “I’m just not used to ... swallowing it.”
“Oh. You’ve ...?”
He shook his head. “Nah, only my own.”
When Edward kissed him, he tasted like Russel’s come, but different than it had tasted when Russel licked it off his own fingers. Like his come mixed with the taste of Edward’s earlier kisses, and the thought of his own come being in Edward Elric’s mouth made him want to cry with gratitude.
“Edward,” he whispered, not knowing him well enough at all at that time to call him “Ed,” the boy’s preferred name. “Let me ... for you?”
And in the space of six heartbeats, he watched Edward pull away, watched him stand and undo his pants, watched him pull his cock free of the fabric, hard and wet and beautiful. Watched Edward’s beautiful eyes as he leant forward to take it in his mouth, watched them close as he sucked on the tip. Watched Edward arch as he slid deeper into Russel’s mouth, the spongy tip of the head pressing into the roof of Russel’s mouth.
Watched Edward jump and yank his cock out of Russel’s mouth as someone knocked on the shed door.
“Fuck,” he swore, zipping his pants and looking deliciously guilty.
“Russel, are you in there?” It was Fletcher, his voice high-pitched with concern. With worry.
“Yeah, I’m in here,” said Russel, glancing at Edward to make sure he was presentable before opening the door. “What’s up?”
Fletcher beamed. “Al and I found a kitten, and we’re going to take it to Elisa as a get-well present. Want to come?”
Then Edward’s hand was at his back, warm and stroking him like a lover. “Yeah, we’ll come,” he said, voice even and deep, not a hint of the lust Russel had heard in it earlier.
And so, together, they took the little grey tabby to Elisa, Edward’s hip brushing Russel’s as they stood around her bed, telling her about a bird’s nest in one of the lemon trees, about Belsio marking the tree with a little sign that read “The Nursery” so they would know to be careful while picking lemons from it. Returned to Belsio’s together to eat dinner, Edward’s toes tickling Russel’s shin through the entire meal, then said goodnight to each other politely as their respective younger brothers dragged them off to separate rooms in the house.
Russel lay in bed awake, long after Fletcher’s breathing had deepened and turned into soft little snores, replaying Edward’s lips against his, Edward’s mouth around his cock. Edward’s cock in his mouth, hard and salty and warm.
Heard Edward padding down the hall to the bathroom, the older boy’s mismatched gait pulling him out of the light sleep he’d achieved, and wondered if Edward was going there to finish what they’d begun.
After a sleepless hour had passed, he rose and found pen and paper, and began to write.
~*~*~*~
Dear Edward.
Curly handwriting, almost like a vine, covered the page. Tiny letters forming luscious words, luscious words forming erotic sentences, erotic sentences forming an erection in Edward Elric’s pants that hurt so badly he wanted to cry.
Wanted to get off at the next station and return to Xenotime, too. But that was out of the question. He was on a mission and couldn’t be distracted by ... by ...
Oh, but Russel’s come had tasted so good, bitter and warm in his mouth. His cock had felt good too, hard and slick on Edward’s tongue, bigger than he’d expected and lovely to lick and suck, the boy’s mouth and kisses no small pleasure, either.
He sighed and re-read the letter. The first part he’d read three times. The second bit ...
Well, he was young. Fifteen years old and hormones raging inside him, he’d had to go hide in the back storage area of the train the first time he’d read the second half of the letter. And even at that, he’d heard the conductor coming and had stuffed his leaking erection back into his pants just in time for the door to open, smoothly explaining that he was checking his cargo to insure it hadn’t gotten damaged on the journey, not jerking off in public, even though he knew it was totally wrong and would gross out anyone who caught him.
Now, his balls were informing him that if he didn’t hurry up and let them come NOW, they’d make him come in his sleep, and that would just be too embarrassing. He looked at the letter.
Dear Edward,
I am so sorry for taking your name and tarnishing your reputation as a morally upstanding individual and respectable State Alchemist. I was childishly desperate and made a bad choice. It is my deepest hope that you will, someday, be able to forgive me. I am certain that you already understand my decision. Forgiveness I will trust to time.
I regret that you are leaving tomorrow morning, so early. So much has happened since you came to Xenotime, so much that I won’t be able to tell anyone about. You saved me and my little brother from that tyrant Mugear. I cannot thank you enough for that, nor can I thank you enough for saving Xenotime from the red water. You are such a hero, yet you act as though it is your duty to do such superhuman things. I am only a year younger than you, but I sincerely doubt that, when I am your age, I will do anything remotely as heroic as the things you have done in my town.
You are an amazing man, Edward Elric. To me, and to all who meet you.
It was an ego-stroke, to Edward, reading such humble words of thanks and praise, especially coming from a boy he’d fallen for, so totally fallen for. The first time he’d read the letter, he’d only made it that far, blushing horribly and feeling his ego swell, dodging Al’s attempts to swipe the letter, knowing that the boy would just tease him for having yet another person think he was Superman.
Later on, when he’d gotten to the second half, he was immensely pleased that he’d kept the letter away from Al. There were some things his little brother just didn’t need to know. And where he knew he shouldn’t be hiding things from Al ...
Well, he was doing it anyway.
I think I may have told you yesterday, the letter continued, that I’ve never been with a boy before. I’ve never been with a girl, either, Edward. Never wanted to be. And I’ve never been as attracted to a person as I was-as I am-to you. I was impressed by you when we fought each other, and again when we fought together, but once it was all over, once my town was safe and my brother was well, not sick from red-water poisoning, I really began to notice you.
You have the most amazing eyes. Gold, almost like a cat’s. Like a darker version of your hair.
You have the most amazing skin, so smooth and soft. I watched you bathe, tonight. After Fletcher interrupted us, I wanted to return the pleasure you gave me. Wanted to make you feel good, the way you made me feel good. So I followed you when you went to bathe, watched you wash your hair, watched you wash your body. When you threw your head back and let the water rinse you, I came, stroking myself and chewing my lip to keep anyone from noticing me.
You should look up more often. I was in the tree, just over you. Watching you touch yourself all over, but not where your body wanted it most. How did you manage to resist touching yourself? You were so hard, it had to hurt. And it wouldn’t have taken long ... you were so close when I was sucking on you, and I came so quickly, watching you, even though it was my second time.
But you didn’t.
I heard you get up tonight, heard you going into the bathing room. You’re in there now, and I can’t help but wonder if you’re touching yourself now, your soft hand wrapped around that beautiful cock that I only got to taste for a moment, only got to taste long enough to know that I want to taste it more.
I wonder what you’d do if I came in and asked to help. If I came in and offered my mouth. My hands. If I offered my ass. Would you know what to do with it? I wouldn’t. I’ve only heard rumors. Nothing that would really be of any use.
There was more. But Edward’s pants were feeling painfully tight, once again, and there was precome soaking through the fabric, sticky and wet. He couldn’t just go jerk off in the cargo area. He just couldn’t, but ...
He stood, tucking the letter into the pocket of his jacket. “Be right back, Al,” he said.
“Okay, Brother,” said Al, still pouting that Edward hadn’t given him the letter. Edward resisted the urge to pat the armor gently on the head, then drew his red jacket around himself, concealing his erection and stained pants until he reached the cargo area at the back of the train.
Just make it quick, he told himself, although he really couldn’t imagine it taking long at all.
Writing this, I’m getting hard again, harder than I usually get when I think about sex. When I think about guys. There’s a boy who lives just down the way, and I used to think about him when I’d touch myself, but he’s nothing like you. Not muscular and strong, soft and beautiful. You’re a contradiction, Edward Elric, and I love it.
I’m certain you’re touching yourself. Certain that you’re touching yourself. You don’t know I’m still awake, don’t know I’m in here, thinking about you, but I am. And since we couldn’t come together earlier, we’ll come together now.
Edward freed his cock and wrapped his flesh hand around it, metal hand shaking as he held the letter. The end really was the best part. He knew what Russel was talking about. Knew the shape and size of the younger boy’s cock, knew the soft brown curls at the base. Knew the texture and flavor of Russel’s come, knew the feel of it pulsing, warm and wet out of the delightfully smooth tip of the boy’s cock.
I think about sucking you read the letter. I’m thinking about kneeling on the tiles of the bathing room floor, naked and hard, your cock in my mouth and your balls in my hand. Do you like having them cupped, I wonder? Stroked? Tickled? Pulled?
Edward drew a shaky breath. Stroked, he answered, silently. Maybe pulled, a little. Not tickled ...
He stroked faster, eyes sliding over the letter.
I think about licking you all over, think about squeezing your ass. I think about ...
Then there was a smudge, one that made Edward suspect that Russel had come, pressing down with his pen in his hurry to catch his semen in a handkerchief before he made a mess. And that sort of thing just couldn’t make him come. Not at all.
But it did. He gasped and emptied himself into his own handkerchief, pulse after pulse of wet semen, just as he’d done in the bathing room, relieving all the tension he’d felt since he’d swallowed Russel’s come, totally unaware that just across the hall, the man of his fantasies was coming as well, hard and wet and beautiful, completely alone.
... teasing the backs of your thighs, where you’re probably ticklish. I think about swallowing your come, like you did for me, continued the letter. Edward cleaned himself up and folded the letter, returning to his seat and his little brother, who made an eerily knowing sound in greeting.
“You know, Brother,” said Al, “you can’t keep secrets from me forever.”
“No, Al, I probably can’t,” said Edward, curling up for a post-orgasm nap. And since I’m never getting rid of this letter, chances are good that you’ll happen across it someday, he added, mentally. But, truth be told, the letter was worth it.
Thank you for being my first, the letter read, the last line. I will never find anyone like you. You are an amazing man.
Edward drifted to sleep, warm and sated and lonely and wishing, with more of his heart than he was willing to admit, that he was back in Xenotime, curled up in the arms of a man who wanted him, despite his temper, despite his metal limbs.
Despite everything.
And even in the company of his younger brother, his world, Edward Elric slept, feeling very, very alone.