Full Metal Alchemist, "Empty Nest 3: Amestis Pie," Russel/Edward, NC-17
This story was promised to Dragonfemme like a zillion years ago, and I TOTALLY forgot about it. I am SO sorry, dear! But here it is, late as a pregnant woman’s period, but done! NC-17 for unrelenting lemon, innuendo, and gay boys trying to wrap their minds around the notion of a clitoris.
Chrstphrl, babe, I stole from you. I’ll give it back when I’m done, promise! ^_~
SailorMac, thanks for discussing female anatomy with me as though neither of us is equipped ^_^
[EDIT]: This story has been edited to fit into the Empty Nest timeline. If you've already read it, do a search for "If the others noticed, they didn't let on." Everything after that is new.
Empty Nest in its entirety:
Prologue: Prodigal Sons
Chapter 1: Awakening
Chapter 1.5: A Matter of Pride
Chapter 2: True Test
[Chapter 3: Amestris Pie]
Chapter 4: Waiting
Chapter 5: Allowance
Chapter 6: Change
Chapter 7: Truce
Chapter 8: Out Alone
Chapter 9: Growing Pains
Chapter 10: Resentment
Chapter 11: Back to Normal
Chapter 12: Perspective
Chapter 13: Understanding
Chapter 14: Distraction
Chapter 15: Silence
Chapter 16: Choose
Chapter 17: Bonds
Chapter 18: Healing
Chapter 19: Nesting
Chapter 20: The Morning After
Chapter 21: Reaction
Chapter 22: Aftershocks
Chapter 23: Goodbye
Chapter 24: Memory
Epilogue: Family
Empty Nest
Chapter Three
Amestris Pie
by Mistress Quickly
Danny Broche shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, allowing his shoulder to rest against the musty shelves of books Edward Elric was currently climbing, squirrel-fashion. He didn’t mind, really, following the young man around, didn’t mind the ache in his shoulders from carrying books all day. Didn’t even really mind his superior’s sick sense of humor, assigning him to work with Edward, even though Roy knew full-well that Danny’s relationship with Al was still a secret from the boy’s older brother.
He minded that it was only three o’clock, and he wasn’t free to go until five o’clock. He minded that his date was at five-thirty, and half an hour didn’t really seem like nearly enough time to go back to his dorm room, change out of the straightjacket the Amestris Military called a uniform, and make it back to the café where he’d promised to meet Alphonse.
Danny smiled. He loved date-nights.
Another book landed on top of the stack he was holding. “Okay,” said Edward. “I think that should be enough for now.” Then he scurried back down the ladder, landing on the old wooden floor with a metallic clunk. “You okay, man? You look kinda ... spacey.”
Danny shook his head, the uneven bits of hair around his face escaping confinement behind his ears to fall in his eyes. “Nah, just thinking,” he said. When Edward shrugged and turned, sauntering back to the table in the middle of the room, Danny followed, obedient as the dog the military had trained him to be. “What are you looking up, again?”
“Plant-cell water retention,” said Edward, opening the first book and scanning the page, his unusual yellow eyes drinking in the text like a parched weed. “Russel and I are trying to develop a plant that can be used for people who travel to arid regions. Needs to have a waxy skin so that it will hold water without drying or rotting, but it also needs to store all sorts of nutrients, without sending them back down to the body of the plant.” He flipped the page and lay one slender, gloved finger under a line of text, his eyes darting between the book and his notes as he scribbled something madly in pencil.
“Ah,” said Danny. “I remember Fletcher mentioning something about that. Didn’t know you were working with his brother on it, though I probably should have guessed.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Edward, flipping a few more pages.
Danny settled himself into a chair across from Edward, crossing his long legs, watching the man make notes and sketch arrays, while the dusty clock on the wall dragged its feet closer and closer to time when he could bolt for his room.
~*~*~*~
On his way out the door, he’d snarled at the thick tartan scarf that was firmly tucked under the collar of his jacket, not wanting to wear a present from his mother on a date. But twelve minutes later, sitting at a table on the café’s patio, stirring his chocolate coffee and feeling his ears slowly turn to ice in the sharp wind, Danny didn’t mind his scarf at all, burying his chin in its warmth and scanning the sidewalk for Alphonse.
He heard the boy’s frantic footsteps only a second before he saw him, standing to greet his breathlessly babbling boyfriend.
“Sorry I’m late! There was a kitten stuck in Mr. Zelaski’s attic, and he can’t climb ladders anymore, not with his arthritis, so I said I’d help him, and-mmph!”
Danny kneaded his fingers in the back of Alphonse Elric’s coat like one of the kittens the boy so often talked about, pressing his lips gently against Al’s until the boy overcame his surprise and relaxed, kissing back and sighing, his breath beautifully warm on Danny’s wind-chilled skin.
“I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad you were there to help the guy with the cat,” Danny said, pulling away, hands still pressed into the soft material of Al’s coat. “What kind of cat was it?”
Al’s eyes went impossibly wide, sparkling with excitement. “She was this little fluffy grey thing with a squashed-up face and little tiny ears, and her meow was really high-pitched and quiet, like she hasn’t really figured out how to do it properly, just yet.” He blushed a little when Danny chuckled softly and kissed him once more, sitting down in the chair beside Danny’s and stirring his hot chocolate. “I coaxed her out with a little bit of chicken, and when she was done eating it, she didn’t try to run away. Rubbed all over my hands, and purred when I carried her back down the ladder.”
“That’s cute,” said Danny, sipping his coffee. “You adopting her?”
“Oh, no,” said Al, shaking his head. “I don’t think Brother would like having a cat around very much, and Fletcher’s allergic to them. Besides, Grey Thing is Mr. Zelaski’s granddaughter’s kitten. They just didn’t want Jess climbing into the attic to get her. She’s only seven.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, licking off the white moustache his whipped cream left on his upper lip. “Anyway. That’s why I’m late.”
Danny rested his arm on the table and laced his fingers with Al’s. “I actually just got here,” he said. “Your brother’s good at letting me go right at five o’clock, but I ran into Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong on my way back to the dorms, so ...” He laughed at the look of sympathetic horror on Al’s face. “Yeah. Didn’t even get to my dorm before five-thirty, and I got here about a minute and a half before you came.”
Al visibly relaxed. “Good,” he said. “I really hate making you wait.”
Danny squeezed the boy’s gloved hand. Now that Al was his, waiting felt like nothing. Now that he could sit and hold Al’s hand and drink coffee while talking to the boy, sharing soft kisses and sleepy cuddles a few times a week, waiting was always worth it.
“I don’t mind at all,” he said, softly. “Just so long as you show up eventually, I don’t mind waiting.”
The blush on Al’s face, Danny decided, was worth even the suffering of Armstrong accompanying him home after a long day spent with the wrong Elric. He sighed into the chocolate-flavored kiss Al gave him for absolutely no reason at all, heart beating a little faster, butterflies fluttering in his belly.
Definitely worth it.
~*~*~*~
Danny’s dorm room was warmer than the café, and most certainly warmer than the windy walk they’d taken through the park. They’d done no more than hold hands until they were safely hidden away in the room, Danny calling out for his roommate, making sure Akil wasn’t in, before pressing Al against the wall beside the door, kissing and nuzzling his lover, arms wrapped around Al’s coat-plush waist.
Al giggled, scrunching up his face and closing his eyes as Danny nuzzled his nose.
“What?” said the man, wrapping his arms more tightly around Al. “Your nose is cold. I’m warming it up.”
“Probably just getting my snot all over you,” said Al.
Danny nuzzled him again. Just nice to have you back to where you can get snot all over me, he thought. “Won’t be the first time,” he said. “And I don’t mind at all.”
Al giggled again and wiggled harder, successfully saving his nose from his boyfriend’s and pressing his wind-cold lips against Danny’s in a gentle kiss. He sighed happily, crossing his arms more tightly behind his lover’s neck, holding the man close, even after the kiss ended.
“I’ve got to get back,” he said, softly. “Brother will start flipping out, if I’m gone too long.”
Danny sighed. “Wish you lived in the dorms, so you’d be closer.”
“You wish I lived in the dorms so you could request me as a roommate and keep me up all night, like Russel does to my brother,” said Al.
“Only if that’s what you wanted,” said Danny.
Al shook his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes, it seems like all they do is have sex.” He let his head drop forward, resting on Danny’s shoulder. “I’m just glad I’ve got Fletcher. He and Winry are waiting.”
Danny stiffened in his arms at the mention of the attractive young man who lived with Al. “Hn,” he said. “We could wait, too. I’m certainly in no rush to get in your pants.” He stroked the tips of his fingers up Al’s back, then down again, squeezing the boy’s tight backside through the thick, soft material of his trousers. “You look so nice in them, it’d be a shame to see you lose them the minute we’re alone.”
Al laughed softly. “Thanks, Danny,” he said. “That’s really, really sweet of you.”
“Just the truth,” said Danny. “I’m not dating you just to get laid, and I don’t want you living nearby just because you’re hot.” He kissed the shell of the boy’s ear, nuzzled the bound strands of Al’s soft amber hair. “I really like you, you know?”
Al chuckled. “I really like you, too, Danny.” He righted himself and reached up, stroking Danny’s hair. “Want to play a board of chess before I go? I haven’t beaten anyone mercilessly in awhile.”
Danny kissed him, quick and deep. “Sure,” he said. “I’ve been walking far too normally lately.”
They kissed once more, slow and lingering, then broke apart, Al settling on the floor while Danny dug his chessboard out from under the bed.
~*~*~*~
Al arrived home to the sight of his best friend cuddled on the couch with his other best friend, the boy’s hand hidden from view under Winry’s skirt, his mouth busy with Winry’s. Al sighed.
Not unusual.
He made his way upstairs, tugging his sweater over his head and pulling the tie out of his hair, happily replaying in his mind the celebratory kiss Danny had given him when he’d whooped the man at chess for the third time in a row. Pulling his bedroom door closed behind him, he tossed his sweater onto the chair by his bed and sighed, flopping back onto the soft quilt he’d gotten from Mrs. Hughes for his first birthday since his return.
Danny was a wonderful kisser, he mused, blushing and grinning at the ceiling like a fool. Soft lips and gentle tongue, never forceful, even when they were kissing hard, even when their hands were wandering and passions were running hot. He touched his lips and closed his eyes, his other hand lazily rubbing his erection through his trousers, not enough to make him come, but nice, the same sort of pressure he felt, pressed against Danny’s thigh ...
A loud cry from the room next to his interrupted his fantasy, killing his arousal faster than a bucket of ice to his groin would have.
“Oh, Russ yes!”
Al sighed and sat up. That, too, wasn’t unusual, but it annoyed him that he had to sneak around on dates with his lover, for fear of Edward’s Overprotective Older Brother Reaction to someone dating his little brother, annoyed him that Fletcher was safe, fingering Winry in the living room because his brother and Edward couldn’t control their hormones long enough to wait for the house to be empty.
“Knowing my luck,” Al said to the poinsettia in his window, “I’d get one kiss from Danny in this house and Brother would catch us.”
Another loud cry from the bedroom answered his prediction, and something inside Al snapped. Normally patient and sweet, accepting of the love-lives of his housemates, he stood and stormed out of the room, pent-up sexual frustration and unjust loneliness propelling him over to his brother’s room. He threw open the door and glared at the pair in the bed, unfazed by Russel’s sweaty, panting expression of shock and Edward’s look of wide-eyed horror.
“Jeez, Al, knock!” he said, groping for a blanket to cover himself and his lover, Russel buried deep inside him, the younger man’s hand wrapped around his leaking cock.
“I didn’t need to,” said Al, voice low and dangerous. “The noises you two were making told me quite clearly exactly what I was going to be interrupting. Could you please just ... not do that-at least, not so loudly-when I’m around? Please?”
Russel slid carefully out of Edward and covered himself with the bed-sheet, spreading the soft cotton over Edward’s lap as well when the man sat up, legs dangling over the edge.
“Sorry, Al,” he said, quietly.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Edward, looking humiliated and miffed and tired, all at once. “Didn’t know you were home.”
Al rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m home, and so are Fletcher and Winry.”
Russel turned bright red. “My little brother’s here?”
“Yep,” said Al, “but I don’t think he heard you two. He and Winry are having a similar sort of private time, only they’re doing it right in the middle of the living room.”
He stepped aside just in time to save himself from being plowed over by an infuriated Russel, who bolted from the room, his bare feet quiet enough on the wooden stairs that, moments later, Al and Edward heard Winry’s shriek of surprise and Fletcher’s stuttered apologies, all to the accompaniment of Russel’s shouting.
Edward looked at his brother. “How long do you think it’ll be before he realizes he’s lecturing them in the nude?” he said.
Al shook his head. “Give him a minute or so more. He sounds really pissed.” He laughed and shook his head, rubbing his temples wearily. “He’s been taking lessons from you in the tantrum department, I swear. Listen to him; he’s been going at that volume for three full minutes now.”
Edward preened. “He’s doing me proud, for sure.”
“Hmph,” said Al. “Doing you seems to be a noisy activity, regardless of its manifestation, then.”
He left the room grinning, the feeling of victory he felt at the look on his brother’s face eerily similar to that which he’d felt while mercilessly defeating Danny earlier over the chessboard.
~*~*~*~
Two hours later, Al was alone, yet again, stirring vegetables into the curry sauce he was making for dinner. He heard Winry’s footsteps and braced himself for the inevitable.
Al was used to the inevitable.
“YOU,” said Winry, storming into the kitchen and pointing at Al, “HOW DARE YOU TELL RUSSEL THAT FLETCHER AND I WERE ... WERE ...”
“Were what, Winry?” said Al. “Studying human anatomy together?”
Winry scowled. “You’re just jealous,” she hissed, “because you’re single.”
Al rolled his eyes and stirred the curry. “I’m not. Neither jealous nor single, actually. I just don’t have sex in front of my family like some cat in heat.”
“You’ve got a girlfriend?” said Winry, her anger melting a little into curiosity. “Since when?”
“Since never,” said Al, putting a lid on the pot and lowering the fire under the burner.
“But you just said-”
“My brother doesn’t have a girlfriend, either,” said Al, rolling his eyes.
Winry blinked at him. “Oh,” she said. “OH! So you’ve got a boyfriend.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Al knew something was wrong when he looked back and Winry was nowhere to be found. He sighed and shook his head, dumping the broccoli he’d chopped into a pan and setting it on the stove. By the time the water had begun to boil lightly, he heard the thundering of mismatched steps on the stairs and sighed again, bracing himself for the tirade.
He was used to the inevitable, but it was still an unpleasantness that he dreaded. He rubbed his temples and watched his brother storm into the room, the older man’s teeth clenched and eyes wild, the inevitable fit building pressure inside Edward’s brilliant mind.
Al crossed his arms over his chest and let it come, as patient in love as he was in war.
~*~*~*~
Danny Broche shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, allowing his shoulder to rest against the musty shelves of books Edward Elric was currently ignoring. He didn’t mind, really, following the young man around, didn’t even really mind the ache he usually got in his shoulders from carrying books all day.
He minded that Edward had dragged him to the most remote, empty portion of Central Library, and hadn’t shown the slightest interest in looking at the books on the shelves.
“Everything okay?” he ventured, fisting his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to play with the shaggy hair around his face, a nervous habit about which Al often teased him.
“Funny you should ask,” growled Edward. “Because no, everything is not okay.”
Danny hadn’t really expected that it would be.
“How long,” continued Edward, “were you planning to work with me and not mention that you and my little brother were seeing each other?”
Danny swallowed hard. “Um,” he said, “I don’t know. Forever, maybe?” Then, before Edward’s reaction to that bit of information could put him six feet under, Danny hastily added, “Because he wanted to be the one to tell you, not because we didn’t want you to know. We were going to tell you together, as soon as ...” He shut his mouth, watching Edward to see if perhaps his loose tongue wasn’t going to get him into trouble. Edward’s frown told him he was wrong.
He hadn’t really expected otherwise.
“As soon as ...?” said Edward.
“As soon as we were sure we were going to last together,” said Danny.
Edward’s eyebrow arched. “How long?” he said.
“Three and a half months,” said Danny.
“Hmph,” said Edward. “Well, at least you’re honest. Al told me that last night.” He sagged a little, looking utterly defeated. “Just don’t hurt Al, okay? I’ll kill you if you make him cry or something. And it won’t be a cool, heroic death, either. I’ll just kill you and transmute you into potting soil, got that?”
Danny nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. And when Edward turned and started picking out books, stacking them in Danny’s arms, the man felt distinctly lucky, as though he’d survived a very serious scrape with death.
~*~*~*~
Al was out on a date, and Edward knew it. Al was out on a date, and there was nothing Edward could do about it.
He sighed and rubbed the side of his flour-covered hand across his already flour-whitened eyebrow, watching Russel cut ventilation holes into the crust of the pie they were trying to bake. Al’s snipe that the two of them would starve without his culinary skills had riled Edward’s pride enough that the older man had marched into the kitchen that morning, hell-bent and determined to cook something, anything to prove his little brother wrong, or at least, to distract himself from the undeniable fact that Al was on a date.
Russel was helping.
“Can’t believe he was fingering her,” the younger man groaned, drawing patterns in the flour Edward had spilled. “I mean, at least go to a closed room, like we did.”
“Like that did us any good,” said Edward.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Russel sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t know where he learned to do that, though. I mean, with us, it was pretty easy, because we’re both guys. We know what we’re doing by default. Where’d Fletch learn about girls?”
“Dunno, Russ,” said Edward.
Russel fidgeted with his hair. “She seemed to be enjoying it.”
“Well, of course she looked like she was enjoying it, Russ,” said Edward. “I mean, chicks wouldn’t have sex if it didn’t feel good, would they?”
Russel shrugged. “I dunno. It could just be for procreation. I mean, have you ever met a woman who sought sex as constantly as Havoc seems to be after it?”
“No,” said Edward, taking the pie from his lover and carefully setting it in the oven, gently closing the door and setting the timer. “But then again, the only women I really know well are Riza, Ross, and ...” he shuddered, “... Granny Pinako. And all of them are ... um ...”
“Interested in other things, most of the time,” said Russel, coming to his blushing lover’s aid.
“Yeah,” said Edward, “and usually things that involve violence.”
Russel chuckled. “It’s no wonder you’re gay, baby. Too scared to be straight, it seems.”
Edward scowled at him. “Oh yeah? Then what’s your excuse?”
“This,” said Russel, tugging Edward close and kissing him, hands gently squeezing Edward’s pert bottom. “When you came to get your name back, any chance women had of catching my eye totally disappeared.”
“You saying I turned you gay, Tringham?” said Edward, his mismatched arms resting loosely on his lover’s shoulders, lips brushing Russel’s in a soft kiss.
“No,” said Russel. “I think I was this way already. But you definitely confirmed for me that I liked boys. I’ve never been turned on so hard or so fast as I was that first night, watching you dodge my attacks.”
Edward laughed. “You’re a sick man, Russel Tringham,” he said. “You got off on me barely escaping your attempts to kill me?”
“No,” said Russel. “Not at all. I mean, I thought about you a lot, but it wasn’t until we were safe from Mugear that I noticed you. Like really noticed you.” He leant forward and kissed Edward deeply, the kiss of a lover. “Never really wanted anyone, male or female, after that.”
Edward didn’t respond, instead kissing back, his flesh fingers massaging the nape of Russel’s neck, playing with the younger man’s soft hair. When his breathing quickened enough to tickle Russel’s cheek, the younger man moaned, breaking away from the kiss to nibble his lover’s neck and ear, hands slipping down into the back of Edward’s lounging pants and briefs, squeezing the soft skin of Edward’s butt.
“I love you, Russ,” Edward whispered, rubbing his erection against his lover’s thigh. He gasped as Russel murmured words of love against his neck, clamping his lips over the sensitive skin and sucking hard, nipping gently with his teeth. Eyes slipping shut, he fumbled with Russel’s lounging pants, untying the loose, sloppy bow of the drawstrings and tugging until pants and briefs were low enough that he could pull away from Russel’s erotic torture and fall to his knees, nuzzling his lover’s soft balls and taking the man’s erection into his mouth. Russel cried out, threading his fingers through Edward’s hair and rocking his hips forward, gently, watching Edward suck him.
“Oh, Ed, that’s good,” he panted, watching Edward’s adorable nose wrinkle each time the older man took him deep enough for the hair around Russel’s cock to tickle it. “So good ...”
Edward hmm’d around his lover’s erection and slid his Automail hand between the man’s legs to cup Russel’s balls, stroking them gently with the smooth pad of his thumb. When Russel cried out brokenly, thrusting harder into his mouth, Edward pulled away, wetly licking his flesh index finger before wrapping his mouth around Russel’s cock once again, sucking steadily and feeling around for his lover’s entrance, tickling and circling and wetting before pushing his finger in, teasing the tight ring of muscles while taking Russel as deep as he could manage.
“Coming,” gasped Russel. “Ed, baby, I’m coming, I’m gonna aaaaaaahhhhhhh ...”
Edward tightened his lips around Russel’s cock, letting the man’s semen flood his mouth, then swallowed leisurely, as though savoring a fine wine. Only when he’d swallowed all of it, licking the hyper-sensitive tip of Russel’s softening cock, did he pull away, rocking back on his heels and smiling up adoringly at his lover. Russel collapsed into the floor and tugged Edward close, kissing him gratefully, whimpering at the sticky residue of his own come on Edward’s tongue.
“Thank you,” he panted, tugging his pants and briefs back up, then attacking his lover, his hands roaming all over Edward’s body. “Oh baby, that was amazing. Let me ...?”
“Yeah,” said Edward, lying back on the cool tile of the kitchen floor and closing his eyes as Russel stripped him of his pants and underwear, bucking and crying out when his lover’s lips fluttered over the sticky-wet tip of his cock, Russel’s tongue slipping out to clean the precome away before his mouth enveloped Edward’s cock completely.
In all his years of loneliness and fear, his years of guilt and pain, Edward had never found escape as beautiful and complete as the thrill of letting Russel Tringham bring him pleasure. The younger man’s face took on an expression of blissful abandon whenever he made love to Edward, no matter how he was doing it: his mouth, his hand, his cock, his perfect ass. His cheeks took on a lovely pink blush, hands worshipping Edward’s scarred, torn and tattered body, his breath bathing the dark blonde curls at the base of Edward’s cock in warmth, making the older man cry out and buck, hard, against the strong, field-calloused hands that held him. When orgasm teased the edges of his consciousness, he threaded his fingers through Russel’s soft hair and whimpered, letting Russel’s answering moan wash over him like waves of warm love. When his body tightened, flooding him in pleasure and Russel’s mouth in come, he opened his eyes and watched Russel lick him, eyes closed and throat working, lips still massaging the length of Edward’s erection in a thousand kisses, warm and soft and adoring.
Pants still pooled around his ankles, the tile floor cold on his bare bottom, Edward tugged his lover up and held him close, the younger man’s body cradled between Edward’s legs. “Thank you, Russ,” he whispered. “That was amazing.”
They lay that way only a few moments more, before Russel’s weight started to make it difficult for Edward to breathe, the cold floor making Edward’s butt go numb. He sighed when Russel slid off of him, tugging his underwear and pants back up his legs and standing, walking like a man asleep over to the oven.
“It’s bubbling,” he said, peering at the pie, Russel’s arms wrap around his waist. “It’s doing what the book said it would do!”
Russel chuckled and kissed his lover’s hair, resisting the urge to jump up and down at the sight of their pie doing what it was supposed to do.
~*~*~*~
They were watching the pie cool. Not that they needed to, of course. But they were doing it anyway, claiming that they needed to make sure it didn’t do something bad, like crack, each secretly enjoying sitting and appreciating the lovely view and scent of their pie cooling on the table.
Their pie. They’d made it, and it was perfect. Not only that, but it would shut Al up, possibly even shame the kid into making chicken casserole, Russel’s favorite. And, it had distracted Edward, the man’s expression almost one of peace as he sat, holding Russel’s hand and admiring their work. He still had a little bit of flour in his hair, caked just to the side of his cowlick, but Russel thought it was cute and was therefore keeping quiet about its presence. Al was due back within the hour, and Russel was pleased that it would be a happy Edward who greeted the boy, not the sulking blonde demon they’d all been tolerating of late.
They were puzzling over Winry and Fletcher again, a safer topic than Danny and Al.
“So,” said Edward. “About that female prostate thing. Who’re we gonna ask?”
Russel snorted. “We’re going to ask about it?”
“Well, yeah,” said Edward. “I mean, I don’t think we’ll ever need to know, but ...” He floundered a little. “What if Al ever needs to know? I mean, he may be with a guy now, but if he turns out to get a girl, then ...”
Russel laughed at the brilliant blush spreading across his lover’s face. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Ed,” he said. “But if you’re really curious, I’ve got a human anatomy book that I picked up under your name, back before we were together. Might have something in it about girls ... down there.”
Edward’s eyebrow arched, his expression totally serious. “Why were you reading up on human anatomy, Russ?” he said. “You weren’t-”
“No, I wasn’t,” said Russel, resting his palm over the back of Edward’s metal hand. “Fletch and I were working on training plant cells to mend insect-damage on leaves. The anatomy book talked about skin-grafting, which was very helpful for our research.” He watched Edward visibly relax, the worry draining even from the man’s metal hand. “I wouldn’t try human transmutation, baby,” he said, softly. “You’re a genius, which is the only reason you survived it. I’d be killed, and I know it.”
“Don’t want to talk about it,” said Edward, softly, biting his lower lip and looking vacantly at the smooth surface of the table.
Russel leaned over and kissed him gently on the temple. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Would you like me to get the book, figure out what’s up with that ... thing?”
Edward looked up and smiled, a ghost of his usual expression, and nodded. “Sure, Russ,” he said. “It’d be nice to not have to ask Winry about it.”
He watched Russel leave the room, sock-covered feet whispering against the smooth tiles, then rose and began heating water in the tea-kettle, staring out the window at the chilly drizzle that was falling on the grass. He jumped when the kettle whistled, yanked back from his dreary thoughts, and added the water to two cups of hot chocolate, leaving enough space in each mug to add the sweet vanilla soymilk Russel had made only a few days before. By the time he was carrying the mugs back to the table, setting them carefully beside the cooling pie, Russel returned, a dusty brown book in his hand.
The younger man set the book down and sniffed his hot chocolate, closing his eyes in child-like bliss. “Thanks, baby,” he said. “Mmm, this smells good.”
“Soymilk,” said Edward, reaching around his lover to pick up the book and leafing through it. “Mom used to put cream in Al’s hot chocolate-not mine, obviously-and he really liked it, so ...” He shrugged and quieted, engrossed in the book. Russel smiled and sipped his own chocolate, watching his lover’s mind soak up the information in the book. Only when his cup was empty did he reach out and brush his fingers along his lover’s metal wrist.
“Anything in there about girls?” he said.
Edward smiled faintly at him. “Oh. Sorry, Russ, I got into reading about bone structures, and ...” He shook his head. “You already know I’m a nerd, no hiding it, I guess.”
“Love you for it,” said Russel.
Edward’s smile widened. “Love you too, Russ,” he said. “Now, let’s see about reproductive systems.”
~*~*~*~
“That makes absolutely no sense, Russel Nash Tringham,” said Edward, mismatched arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows knitted over his stunning eyes. “What good’s it going to do on the outside of the body?”
Russel sighed. “I don’t know, lover, but that’s what the book says. Maybe ... maybe the ...” He sighed, slumping in his chair, secretly feeling more grateful than he’d ever felt before that he was gay.
Edward laughed tiredly. “I don’t know about you, Russ, but I’ve never been so glad in my entire life that I’m gay. I mean, with guys, it's just wrap-your-hand-around-it-and-tug. And if you're inside, find the prostate and hit it as hard as you can.”
“Oh, Ed,” said Russel, laughing and batting his eyelashes theatrically at his lover. “You’re such a romantic.”
“Like you mind,” said Edward, his flesh fingers squeezing Russel’s half-hard erection through the man’s lounging pants. “Last I checked, you liked the old yank-and-tug.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Russel. “Just as much as you do, if memory serves. But regardless, if that’s how women work, then that’s how women work.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Mystery solved.”
Edward arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m glad you’re satisfied, Russ, but I’m not. How in the hell is a cock going to rub that and be inside at the same time?” He watched his lover’s eyebrows arch, saw the mocking smile warming on Russel’s handsome face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. What’s a gay guy care. Well, for the sake of curiosity-”
“I wasn’t going to say that, Ed,” said Russel, gently. He sighed. “What if ... what if the angle determined it? Like, if you do it one way, you’ll rub against the kittyruss ...”
“Clitoris,” corrected Edward.
“Yeah, that,” said Russel. “If you were to angle the penetration just right, you’d rub it. Like cutting plant-stems at an angle so that the soil works around them when they graft.”
Edward blinked at him. Russel sighed.
“Like this,” he said, making a tunnel with his left hand and thrusting the index and middle fingers of his right into it, curving them so that they rubbed just under the index knuckle of his left hand, the way he fingered Edward while sucking the older man, rubbing the ring of muscle just right while still hitting Edward’s prostate.
Edward shifted and adjusted his growing erection in his briefs. “That’s going to do what, then?”
“Rub the kittyruss,” said Russel, thrusting his fingers into his left hand faster. “See? It’s rubbing my knuckle on the way in.”
Edward licked his lips. “It’s ‘clitoris,’ and you’re moving your hand, Russ,” he said. “I don’t think girls can move like that, don’t think they can make you rub that high up.”
Russel rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “Then ... here! This.” He touched the center of the piecrust tentatively, testing the temperature before sinking his fingers into the pie, breaking a small hole through the center. He thrust his fingers back and forth a few times, cracking the soft crust and wetting it with blackberry filling. “See?” he said. “It’s got to hit the kittyruss! See how it’s making the crust wet?”
He looked up just in time to see Edward pounce, the older man’s cheeks flushed and breath quick, warm against Russel’s cheek, his cock a stiff pressure against Russel’s hipbone. Russel moaned and shifted, opening his mouth to his lover’s kiss, holding his blackberry-sticky hand awkwardly out of the way, not wanting to smear Edward’s hair with the dark purple goop.
“Finger me, Russ,” Edward begged breathlessly, rubbing enticingly against Russel. “Please, Russ.”
“Let me wash my hands, Ed,” said Russel. “I don’t-”
Edward blinked at Russel’s purple fingers, then launched himself at them, grabbing the younger man’s wrist and sucking the fingers into his mouth, licking ravenously at them, cleaning them of any trace of pie-filling and moaning, eyes closed and body tight, hard and erotic. Russel groaned and watched, entranced, totally still until Edward pulled away, licking Russel’s fingers once or twice before licking his lips, catching most of the blackberry on them, save for the smears at the corners of his mouth.
“Yum,” he said. “Now, do it, please?”
Russel sat up and wrapped his arms around his lover, tasting blackberry on Edward’s tongue. “Not clean enough, baby,” he whispered. “Just let me wash my hands, and-”
“What are you two doing?”
Al was standing in the doorway, fingers laced with Danny’s, one golden eyebrow arched menacingly. Danny blushed and looked away, squeezing Al’s hand. Behind them stood Fletcher and Winry, Fletcher peering around Danny’s shoulder and tugging absently at his scarf. Edward swallowed hard and blushed, scrambling out of his lover’s lap and standing, hands covering the bulge in the front of his pants rather conspicuously.
“Um,” he said, intelligently.
“Whoa, what have you two been reading?” said Winry, pushing past Fletcher and stepping into the room, looking down at the open book on the table. “Female reproductive anatomy?”
“What?” said Al and Danny in unison, both squeezing through the kitchen door and bending to look at the book.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said Fletcher, draping his scarf over the kitchen doorknob and padding into the kitchen. “Curiosity get the better of you two?”
Edward scowled. “Do you all want pie or not?” His scowl deepened at the enthusiastic chorus of yes’s. “Then shut up and put the book away.”
He and Russel set plates and forks on the table, handing Al the pie-server with a pleading look. The boy rolled his eyes, but stood, steadying the pie plate with one hand and setting the tip of the pie-server in the center of the pie, right in the messy hole Russel’s demonstration had caused.
“I don’t want to know what made this hole, do I?” he said quietly, serving the first piece to Fletcher.
“Russ accidentally sunk his thumb in it,” Edward said. “He was checking to see if it had cooled properly or not.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Winry, smiling up at Al in thanks when the boy handed her a slice of the pie. “The way you two were going at it when we came it ...”
Edward laughed nervously. Russel stood and poured milk for everyone, blushing and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Halfway through his slice of pie, he noticed purple blackberry stains around the cuticles of his right index and middle fingers, and only barely managed to swallow his yelp of dismay, quickly switching his fork to his left hand to finish his pie.
If the others noticed, they didn’t let on. Al finished his pie and stretched, stacking Danny’s plate on top of his own and carrying them to the sink, then returning and taking the man’s hand in his own.
“We’ll be upstairs if you need us,” he said. “Thank you for the pie. It was delicious.”
Russel and Edward beamed, the older man too proud of their baking achievement to more than sigh as his brother disappeared up the stairs, Danny’s arm draped about Al’s slender waist, Al’s giggles muffled at the top of the stairs. He figured his fit could wait.
Just this once.
Chrstphrl, babe, I stole from you. I’ll give it back when I’m done, promise! ^_~
SailorMac, thanks for discussing female anatomy with me as though neither of us is equipped ^_^
[EDIT]: This story has been edited to fit into the Empty Nest timeline. If you've already read it, do a search for "If the others noticed, they didn't let on." Everything after that is new.
Empty Nest in its entirety:
Prologue: Prodigal Sons
Chapter 1: Awakening
Chapter 1.5: A Matter of Pride
Chapter 2: True Test
[Chapter 3: Amestris Pie]
Chapter 4: Waiting
Chapter 5: Allowance
Chapter 6: Change
Chapter 7: Truce
Chapter 8: Out Alone
Chapter 9: Growing Pains
Chapter 10: Resentment
Chapter 11: Back to Normal
Chapter 12: Perspective
Chapter 13: Understanding
Chapter 14: Distraction
Chapter 15: Silence
Chapter 16: Choose
Chapter 17: Bonds
Chapter 18: Healing
Chapter 19: Nesting
Chapter 20: The Morning After
Chapter 21: Reaction
Chapter 22: Aftershocks
Chapter 23: Goodbye
Chapter 24: Memory
Epilogue: Family
Empty Nest
Chapter Three
Amestris Pie
by Mistress Quickly
Danny Broche shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, allowing his shoulder to rest against the musty shelves of books Edward Elric was currently climbing, squirrel-fashion. He didn’t mind, really, following the young man around, didn’t mind the ache in his shoulders from carrying books all day. Didn’t even really mind his superior’s sick sense of humor, assigning him to work with Edward, even though Roy knew full-well that Danny’s relationship with Al was still a secret from the boy’s older brother.
He minded that it was only three o’clock, and he wasn’t free to go until five o’clock. He minded that his date was at five-thirty, and half an hour didn’t really seem like nearly enough time to go back to his dorm room, change out of the straightjacket the Amestris Military called a uniform, and make it back to the café where he’d promised to meet Alphonse.
Danny smiled. He loved date-nights.
Another book landed on top of the stack he was holding. “Okay,” said Edward. “I think that should be enough for now.” Then he scurried back down the ladder, landing on the old wooden floor with a metallic clunk. “You okay, man? You look kinda ... spacey.”
Danny shook his head, the uneven bits of hair around his face escaping confinement behind his ears to fall in his eyes. “Nah, just thinking,” he said. When Edward shrugged and turned, sauntering back to the table in the middle of the room, Danny followed, obedient as the dog the military had trained him to be. “What are you looking up, again?”
“Plant-cell water retention,” said Edward, opening the first book and scanning the page, his unusual yellow eyes drinking in the text like a parched weed. “Russel and I are trying to develop a plant that can be used for people who travel to arid regions. Needs to have a waxy skin so that it will hold water without drying or rotting, but it also needs to store all sorts of nutrients, without sending them back down to the body of the plant.” He flipped the page and lay one slender, gloved finger under a line of text, his eyes darting between the book and his notes as he scribbled something madly in pencil.
“Ah,” said Danny. “I remember Fletcher mentioning something about that. Didn’t know you were working with his brother on it, though I probably should have guessed.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Edward, flipping a few more pages.
Danny settled himself into a chair across from Edward, crossing his long legs, watching the man make notes and sketch arrays, while the dusty clock on the wall dragged its feet closer and closer to time when he could bolt for his room.
~*~*~*~
On his way out the door, he’d snarled at the thick tartan scarf that was firmly tucked under the collar of his jacket, not wanting to wear a present from his mother on a date. But twelve minutes later, sitting at a table on the café’s patio, stirring his chocolate coffee and feeling his ears slowly turn to ice in the sharp wind, Danny didn’t mind his scarf at all, burying his chin in its warmth and scanning the sidewalk for Alphonse.
He heard the boy’s frantic footsteps only a second before he saw him, standing to greet his breathlessly babbling boyfriend.
“Sorry I’m late! There was a kitten stuck in Mr. Zelaski’s attic, and he can’t climb ladders anymore, not with his arthritis, so I said I’d help him, and-mmph!”
Danny kneaded his fingers in the back of Alphonse Elric’s coat like one of the kittens the boy so often talked about, pressing his lips gently against Al’s until the boy overcame his surprise and relaxed, kissing back and sighing, his breath beautifully warm on Danny’s wind-chilled skin.
“I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad you were there to help the guy with the cat,” Danny said, pulling away, hands still pressed into the soft material of Al’s coat. “What kind of cat was it?”
Al’s eyes went impossibly wide, sparkling with excitement. “She was this little fluffy grey thing with a squashed-up face and little tiny ears, and her meow was really high-pitched and quiet, like she hasn’t really figured out how to do it properly, just yet.” He blushed a little when Danny chuckled softly and kissed him once more, sitting down in the chair beside Danny’s and stirring his hot chocolate. “I coaxed her out with a little bit of chicken, and when she was done eating it, she didn’t try to run away. Rubbed all over my hands, and purred when I carried her back down the ladder.”
“That’s cute,” said Danny, sipping his coffee. “You adopting her?”
“Oh, no,” said Al, shaking his head. “I don’t think Brother would like having a cat around very much, and Fletcher’s allergic to them. Besides, Grey Thing is Mr. Zelaski’s granddaughter’s kitten. They just didn’t want Jess climbing into the attic to get her. She’s only seven.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, licking off the white moustache his whipped cream left on his upper lip. “Anyway. That’s why I’m late.”
Danny rested his arm on the table and laced his fingers with Al’s. “I actually just got here,” he said. “Your brother’s good at letting me go right at five o’clock, but I ran into Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong on my way back to the dorms, so ...” He laughed at the look of sympathetic horror on Al’s face. “Yeah. Didn’t even get to my dorm before five-thirty, and I got here about a minute and a half before you came.”
Al visibly relaxed. “Good,” he said. “I really hate making you wait.”
Danny squeezed the boy’s gloved hand. Now that Al was his, waiting felt like nothing. Now that he could sit and hold Al’s hand and drink coffee while talking to the boy, sharing soft kisses and sleepy cuddles a few times a week, waiting was always worth it.
“I don’t mind at all,” he said, softly. “Just so long as you show up eventually, I don’t mind waiting.”
The blush on Al’s face, Danny decided, was worth even the suffering of Armstrong accompanying him home after a long day spent with the wrong Elric. He sighed into the chocolate-flavored kiss Al gave him for absolutely no reason at all, heart beating a little faster, butterflies fluttering in his belly.
Definitely worth it.
~*~*~*~
Danny’s dorm room was warmer than the café, and most certainly warmer than the windy walk they’d taken through the park. They’d done no more than hold hands until they were safely hidden away in the room, Danny calling out for his roommate, making sure Akil wasn’t in, before pressing Al against the wall beside the door, kissing and nuzzling his lover, arms wrapped around Al’s coat-plush waist.
Al giggled, scrunching up his face and closing his eyes as Danny nuzzled his nose.
“What?” said the man, wrapping his arms more tightly around Al. “Your nose is cold. I’m warming it up.”
“Probably just getting my snot all over you,” said Al.
Danny nuzzled him again. Just nice to have you back to where you can get snot all over me, he thought. “Won’t be the first time,” he said. “And I don’t mind at all.”
Al giggled again and wiggled harder, successfully saving his nose from his boyfriend’s and pressing his wind-cold lips against Danny’s in a gentle kiss. He sighed happily, crossing his arms more tightly behind his lover’s neck, holding the man close, even after the kiss ended.
“I’ve got to get back,” he said, softly. “Brother will start flipping out, if I’m gone too long.”
Danny sighed. “Wish you lived in the dorms, so you’d be closer.”
“You wish I lived in the dorms so you could request me as a roommate and keep me up all night, like Russel does to my brother,” said Al.
“Only if that’s what you wanted,” said Danny.
Al shook his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes, it seems like all they do is have sex.” He let his head drop forward, resting on Danny’s shoulder. “I’m just glad I’ve got Fletcher. He and Winry are waiting.”
Danny stiffened in his arms at the mention of the attractive young man who lived with Al. “Hn,” he said. “We could wait, too. I’m certainly in no rush to get in your pants.” He stroked the tips of his fingers up Al’s back, then down again, squeezing the boy’s tight backside through the thick, soft material of his trousers. “You look so nice in them, it’d be a shame to see you lose them the minute we’re alone.”
Al laughed softly. “Thanks, Danny,” he said. “That’s really, really sweet of you.”
“Just the truth,” said Danny. “I’m not dating you just to get laid, and I don’t want you living nearby just because you’re hot.” He kissed the shell of the boy’s ear, nuzzled the bound strands of Al’s soft amber hair. “I really like you, you know?”
Al chuckled. “I really like you, too, Danny.” He righted himself and reached up, stroking Danny’s hair. “Want to play a board of chess before I go? I haven’t beaten anyone mercilessly in awhile.”
Danny kissed him, quick and deep. “Sure,” he said. “I’ve been walking far too normally lately.”
They kissed once more, slow and lingering, then broke apart, Al settling on the floor while Danny dug his chessboard out from under the bed.
~*~*~*~
Al arrived home to the sight of his best friend cuddled on the couch with his other best friend, the boy’s hand hidden from view under Winry’s skirt, his mouth busy with Winry’s. Al sighed.
Not unusual.
He made his way upstairs, tugging his sweater over his head and pulling the tie out of his hair, happily replaying in his mind the celebratory kiss Danny had given him when he’d whooped the man at chess for the third time in a row. Pulling his bedroom door closed behind him, he tossed his sweater onto the chair by his bed and sighed, flopping back onto the soft quilt he’d gotten from Mrs. Hughes for his first birthday since his return.
Danny was a wonderful kisser, he mused, blushing and grinning at the ceiling like a fool. Soft lips and gentle tongue, never forceful, even when they were kissing hard, even when their hands were wandering and passions were running hot. He touched his lips and closed his eyes, his other hand lazily rubbing his erection through his trousers, not enough to make him come, but nice, the same sort of pressure he felt, pressed against Danny’s thigh ...
A loud cry from the room next to his interrupted his fantasy, killing his arousal faster than a bucket of ice to his groin would have.
“Oh, Russ yes!”
Al sighed and sat up. That, too, wasn’t unusual, but it annoyed him that he had to sneak around on dates with his lover, for fear of Edward’s Overprotective Older Brother Reaction to someone dating his little brother, annoyed him that Fletcher was safe, fingering Winry in the living room because his brother and Edward couldn’t control their hormones long enough to wait for the house to be empty.
“Knowing my luck,” Al said to the poinsettia in his window, “I’d get one kiss from Danny in this house and Brother would catch us.”
Another loud cry from the bedroom answered his prediction, and something inside Al snapped. Normally patient and sweet, accepting of the love-lives of his housemates, he stood and stormed out of the room, pent-up sexual frustration and unjust loneliness propelling him over to his brother’s room. He threw open the door and glared at the pair in the bed, unfazed by Russel’s sweaty, panting expression of shock and Edward’s look of wide-eyed horror.
“Jeez, Al, knock!” he said, groping for a blanket to cover himself and his lover, Russel buried deep inside him, the younger man’s hand wrapped around his leaking cock.
“I didn’t need to,” said Al, voice low and dangerous. “The noises you two were making told me quite clearly exactly what I was going to be interrupting. Could you please just ... not do that-at least, not so loudly-when I’m around? Please?”
Russel slid carefully out of Edward and covered himself with the bed-sheet, spreading the soft cotton over Edward’s lap as well when the man sat up, legs dangling over the edge.
“Sorry, Al,” he said, quietly.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Edward, looking humiliated and miffed and tired, all at once. “Didn’t know you were home.”
Al rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m home, and so are Fletcher and Winry.”
Russel turned bright red. “My little brother’s here?”
“Yep,” said Al, “but I don’t think he heard you two. He and Winry are having a similar sort of private time, only they’re doing it right in the middle of the living room.”
He stepped aside just in time to save himself from being plowed over by an infuriated Russel, who bolted from the room, his bare feet quiet enough on the wooden stairs that, moments later, Al and Edward heard Winry’s shriek of surprise and Fletcher’s stuttered apologies, all to the accompaniment of Russel’s shouting.
Edward looked at his brother. “How long do you think it’ll be before he realizes he’s lecturing them in the nude?” he said.
Al shook his head. “Give him a minute or so more. He sounds really pissed.” He laughed and shook his head, rubbing his temples wearily. “He’s been taking lessons from you in the tantrum department, I swear. Listen to him; he’s been going at that volume for three full minutes now.”
Edward preened. “He’s doing me proud, for sure.”
“Hmph,” said Al. “Doing you seems to be a noisy activity, regardless of its manifestation, then.”
He left the room grinning, the feeling of victory he felt at the look on his brother’s face eerily similar to that which he’d felt while mercilessly defeating Danny earlier over the chessboard.
~*~*~*~
Two hours later, Al was alone, yet again, stirring vegetables into the curry sauce he was making for dinner. He heard Winry’s footsteps and braced himself for the inevitable.
Al was used to the inevitable.
“YOU,” said Winry, storming into the kitchen and pointing at Al, “HOW DARE YOU TELL RUSSEL THAT FLETCHER AND I WERE ... WERE ...”
“Were what, Winry?” said Al. “Studying human anatomy together?”
Winry scowled. “You’re just jealous,” she hissed, “because you’re single.”
Al rolled his eyes and stirred the curry. “I’m not. Neither jealous nor single, actually. I just don’t have sex in front of my family like some cat in heat.”
“You’ve got a girlfriend?” said Winry, her anger melting a little into curiosity. “Since when?”
“Since never,” said Al, putting a lid on the pot and lowering the fire under the burner.
“But you just said-”
“My brother doesn’t have a girlfriend, either,” said Al, rolling his eyes.
Winry blinked at him. “Oh,” she said. “OH! So you’ve got a boyfriend.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Al knew something was wrong when he looked back and Winry was nowhere to be found. He sighed and shook his head, dumping the broccoli he’d chopped into a pan and setting it on the stove. By the time the water had begun to boil lightly, he heard the thundering of mismatched steps on the stairs and sighed again, bracing himself for the tirade.
He was used to the inevitable, but it was still an unpleasantness that he dreaded. He rubbed his temples and watched his brother storm into the room, the older man’s teeth clenched and eyes wild, the inevitable fit building pressure inside Edward’s brilliant mind.
Al crossed his arms over his chest and let it come, as patient in love as he was in war.
~*~*~*~
Danny Broche shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, allowing his shoulder to rest against the musty shelves of books Edward Elric was currently ignoring. He didn’t mind, really, following the young man around, didn’t even really mind the ache he usually got in his shoulders from carrying books all day.
He minded that Edward had dragged him to the most remote, empty portion of Central Library, and hadn’t shown the slightest interest in looking at the books on the shelves.
“Everything okay?” he ventured, fisting his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to play with the shaggy hair around his face, a nervous habit about which Al often teased him.
“Funny you should ask,” growled Edward. “Because no, everything is not okay.”
Danny hadn’t really expected that it would be.
“How long,” continued Edward, “were you planning to work with me and not mention that you and my little brother were seeing each other?”
Danny swallowed hard. “Um,” he said, “I don’t know. Forever, maybe?” Then, before Edward’s reaction to that bit of information could put him six feet under, Danny hastily added, “Because he wanted to be the one to tell you, not because we didn’t want you to know. We were going to tell you together, as soon as ...” He shut his mouth, watching Edward to see if perhaps his loose tongue wasn’t going to get him into trouble. Edward’s frown told him he was wrong.
He hadn’t really expected otherwise.
“As soon as ...?” said Edward.
“As soon as we were sure we were going to last together,” said Danny.
Edward’s eyebrow arched. “How long?” he said.
“Three and a half months,” said Danny.
“Hmph,” said Edward. “Well, at least you’re honest. Al told me that last night.” He sagged a little, looking utterly defeated. “Just don’t hurt Al, okay? I’ll kill you if you make him cry or something. And it won’t be a cool, heroic death, either. I’ll just kill you and transmute you into potting soil, got that?”
Danny nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. And when Edward turned and started picking out books, stacking them in Danny’s arms, the man felt distinctly lucky, as though he’d survived a very serious scrape with death.
~*~*~*~
Al was out on a date, and Edward knew it. Al was out on a date, and there was nothing Edward could do about it.
He sighed and rubbed the side of his flour-covered hand across his already flour-whitened eyebrow, watching Russel cut ventilation holes into the crust of the pie they were trying to bake. Al’s snipe that the two of them would starve without his culinary skills had riled Edward’s pride enough that the older man had marched into the kitchen that morning, hell-bent and determined to cook something, anything to prove his little brother wrong, or at least, to distract himself from the undeniable fact that Al was on a date.
Russel was helping.
“Can’t believe he was fingering her,” the younger man groaned, drawing patterns in the flour Edward had spilled. “I mean, at least go to a closed room, like we did.”
“Like that did us any good,” said Edward.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Russel sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t know where he learned to do that, though. I mean, with us, it was pretty easy, because we’re both guys. We know what we’re doing by default. Where’d Fletch learn about girls?”
“Dunno, Russ,” said Edward.
Russel fidgeted with his hair. “She seemed to be enjoying it.”
“Well, of course she looked like she was enjoying it, Russ,” said Edward. “I mean, chicks wouldn’t have sex if it didn’t feel good, would they?”
Russel shrugged. “I dunno. It could just be for procreation. I mean, have you ever met a woman who sought sex as constantly as Havoc seems to be after it?”
“No,” said Edward, taking the pie from his lover and carefully setting it in the oven, gently closing the door and setting the timer. “But then again, the only women I really know well are Riza, Ross, and ...” he shuddered, “... Granny Pinako. And all of them are ... um ...”
“Interested in other things, most of the time,” said Russel, coming to his blushing lover’s aid.
“Yeah,” said Edward, “and usually things that involve violence.”
Russel chuckled. “It’s no wonder you’re gay, baby. Too scared to be straight, it seems.”
Edward scowled at him. “Oh yeah? Then what’s your excuse?”
“This,” said Russel, tugging Edward close and kissing him, hands gently squeezing Edward’s pert bottom. “When you came to get your name back, any chance women had of catching my eye totally disappeared.”
“You saying I turned you gay, Tringham?” said Edward, his mismatched arms resting loosely on his lover’s shoulders, lips brushing Russel’s in a soft kiss.
“No,” said Russel. “I think I was this way already. But you definitely confirmed for me that I liked boys. I’ve never been turned on so hard or so fast as I was that first night, watching you dodge my attacks.”
Edward laughed. “You’re a sick man, Russel Tringham,” he said. “You got off on me barely escaping your attempts to kill me?”
“No,” said Russel. “Not at all. I mean, I thought about you a lot, but it wasn’t until we were safe from Mugear that I noticed you. Like really noticed you.” He leant forward and kissed Edward deeply, the kiss of a lover. “Never really wanted anyone, male or female, after that.”
Edward didn’t respond, instead kissing back, his flesh fingers massaging the nape of Russel’s neck, playing with the younger man’s soft hair. When his breathing quickened enough to tickle Russel’s cheek, the younger man moaned, breaking away from the kiss to nibble his lover’s neck and ear, hands slipping down into the back of Edward’s lounging pants and briefs, squeezing the soft skin of Edward’s butt.
“I love you, Russ,” Edward whispered, rubbing his erection against his lover’s thigh. He gasped as Russel murmured words of love against his neck, clamping his lips over the sensitive skin and sucking hard, nipping gently with his teeth. Eyes slipping shut, he fumbled with Russel’s lounging pants, untying the loose, sloppy bow of the drawstrings and tugging until pants and briefs were low enough that he could pull away from Russel’s erotic torture and fall to his knees, nuzzling his lover’s soft balls and taking the man’s erection into his mouth. Russel cried out, threading his fingers through Edward’s hair and rocking his hips forward, gently, watching Edward suck him.
“Oh, Ed, that’s good,” he panted, watching Edward’s adorable nose wrinkle each time the older man took him deep enough for the hair around Russel’s cock to tickle it. “So good ...”
Edward hmm’d around his lover’s erection and slid his Automail hand between the man’s legs to cup Russel’s balls, stroking them gently with the smooth pad of his thumb. When Russel cried out brokenly, thrusting harder into his mouth, Edward pulled away, wetly licking his flesh index finger before wrapping his mouth around Russel’s cock once again, sucking steadily and feeling around for his lover’s entrance, tickling and circling and wetting before pushing his finger in, teasing the tight ring of muscles while taking Russel as deep as he could manage.
“Coming,” gasped Russel. “Ed, baby, I’m coming, I’m gonna aaaaaaahhhhhhh ...”
Edward tightened his lips around Russel’s cock, letting the man’s semen flood his mouth, then swallowed leisurely, as though savoring a fine wine. Only when he’d swallowed all of it, licking the hyper-sensitive tip of Russel’s softening cock, did he pull away, rocking back on his heels and smiling up adoringly at his lover. Russel collapsed into the floor and tugged Edward close, kissing him gratefully, whimpering at the sticky residue of his own come on Edward’s tongue.
“Thank you,” he panted, tugging his pants and briefs back up, then attacking his lover, his hands roaming all over Edward’s body. “Oh baby, that was amazing. Let me ...?”
“Yeah,” said Edward, lying back on the cool tile of the kitchen floor and closing his eyes as Russel stripped him of his pants and underwear, bucking and crying out when his lover’s lips fluttered over the sticky-wet tip of his cock, Russel’s tongue slipping out to clean the precome away before his mouth enveloped Edward’s cock completely.
In all his years of loneliness and fear, his years of guilt and pain, Edward had never found escape as beautiful and complete as the thrill of letting Russel Tringham bring him pleasure. The younger man’s face took on an expression of blissful abandon whenever he made love to Edward, no matter how he was doing it: his mouth, his hand, his cock, his perfect ass. His cheeks took on a lovely pink blush, hands worshipping Edward’s scarred, torn and tattered body, his breath bathing the dark blonde curls at the base of Edward’s cock in warmth, making the older man cry out and buck, hard, against the strong, field-calloused hands that held him. When orgasm teased the edges of his consciousness, he threaded his fingers through Russel’s soft hair and whimpered, letting Russel’s answering moan wash over him like waves of warm love. When his body tightened, flooding him in pleasure and Russel’s mouth in come, he opened his eyes and watched Russel lick him, eyes closed and throat working, lips still massaging the length of Edward’s erection in a thousand kisses, warm and soft and adoring.
Pants still pooled around his ankles, the tile floor cold on his bare bottom, Edward tugged his lover up and held him close, the younger man’s body cradled between Edward’s legs. “Thank you, Russ,” he whispered. “That was amazing.”
They lay that way only a few moments more, before Russel’s weight started to make it difficult for Edward to breathe, the cold floor making Edward’s butt go numb. He sighed when Russel slid off of him, tugging his underwear and pants back up his legs and standing, walking like a man asleep over to the oven.
“It’s bubbling,” he said, peering at the pie, Russel’s arms wrap around his waist. “It’s doing what the book said it would do!”
Russel chuckled and kissed his lover’s hair, resisting the urge to jump up and down at the sight of their pie doing what it was supposed to do.
~*~*~*~
They were watching the pie cool. Not that they needed to, of course. But they were doing it anyway, claiming that they needed to make sure it didn’t do something bad, like crack, each secretly enjoying sitting and appreciating the lovely view and scent of their pie cooling on the table.
Their pie. They’d made it, and it was perfect. Not only that, but it would shut Al up, possibly even shame the kid into making chicken casserole, Russel’s favorite. And, it had distracted Edward, the man’s expression almost one of peace as he sat, holding Russel’s hand and admiring their work. He still had a little bit of flour in his hair, caked just to the side of his cowlick, but Russel thought it was cute and was therefore keeping quiet about its presence. Al was due back within the hour, and Russel was pleased that it would be a happy Edward who greeted the boy, not the sulking blonde demon they’d all been tolerating of late.
They were puzzling over Winry and Fletcher again, a safer topic than Danny and Al.
“So,” said Edward. “About that female prostate thing. Who’re we gonna ask?”
Russel snorted. “We’re going to ask about it?”
“Well, yeah,” said Edward. “I mean, I don’t think we’ll ever need to know, but ...” He floundered a little. “What if Al ever needs to know? I mean, he may be with a guy now, but if he turns out to get a girl, then ...”
Russel laughed at the brilliant blush spreading across his lover’s face. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Ed,” he said. “But if you’re really curious, I’ve got a human anatomy book that I picked up under your name, back before we were together. Might have something in it about girls ... down there.”
Edward’s eyebrow arched, his expression totally serious. “Why were you reading up on human anatomy, Russ?” he said. “You weren’t-”
“No, I wasn’t,” said Russel, resting his palm over the back of Edward’s metal hand. “Fletch and I were working on training plant cells to mend insect-damage on leaves. The anatomy book talked about skin-grafting, which was very helpful for our research.” He watched Edward visibly relax, the worry draining even from the man’s metal hand. “I wouldn’t try human transmutation, baby,” he said, softly. “You’re a genius, which is the only reason you survived it. I’d be killed, and I know it.”
“Don’t want to talk about it,” said Edward, softly, biting his lower lip and looking vacantly at the smooth surface of the table.
Russel leaned over and kissed him gently on the temple. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Would you like me to get the book, figure out what’s up with that ... thing?”
Edward looked up and smiled, a ghost of his usual expression, and nodded. “Sure, Russ,” he said. “It’d be nice to not have to ask Winry about it.”
He watched Russel leave the room, sock-covered feet whispering against the smooth tiles, then rose and began heating water in the tea-kettle, staring out the window at the chilly drizzle that was falling on the grass. He jumped when the kettle whistled, yanked back from his dreary thoughts, and added the water to two cups of hot chocolate, leaving enough space in each mug to add the sweet vanilla soymilk Russel had made only a few days before. By the time he was carrying the mugs back to the table, setting them carefully beside the cooling pie, Russel returned, a dusty brown book in his hand.
The younger man set the book down and sniffed his hot chocolate, closing his eyes in child-like bliss. “Thanks, baby,” he said. “Mmm, this smells good.”
“Soymilk,” said Edward, reaching around his lover to pick up the book and leafing through it. “Mom used to put cream in Al’s hot chocolate-not mine, obviously-and he really liked it, so ...” He shrugged and quieted, engrossed in the book. Russel smiled and sipped his own chocolate, watching his lover’s mind soak up the information in the book. Only when his cup was empty did he reach out and brush his fingers along his lover’s metal wrist.
“Anything in there about girls?” he said.
Edward smiled faintly at him. “Oh. Sorry, Russ, I got into reading about bone structures, and ...” He shook his head. “You already know I’m a nerd, no hiding it, I guess.”
“Love you for it,” said Russel.
Edward’s smile widened. “Love you too, Russ,” he said. “Now, let’s see about reproductive systems.”
~*~*~*~
“That makes absolutely no sense, Russel Nash Tringham,” said Edward, mismatched arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows knitted over his stunning eyes. “What good’s it going to do on the outside of the body?”
Russel sighed. “I don’t know, lover, but that’s what the book says. Maybe ... maybe the ...” He sighed, slumping in his chair, secretly feeling more grateful than he’d ever felt before that he was gay.
Edward laughed tiredly. “I don’t know about you, Russ, but I’ve never been so glad in my entire life that I’m gay. I mean, with guys, it's just wrap-your-hand-around-it-and-tug. And if you're inside, find the prostate and hit it as hard as you can.”
“Oh, Ed,” said Russel, laughing and batting his eyelashes theatrically at his lover. “You’re such a romantic.”
“Like you mind,” said Edward, his flesh fingers squeezing Russel’s half-hard erection through the man’s lounging pants. “Last I checked, you liked the old yank-and-tug.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Russel. “Just as much as you do, if memory serves. But regardless, if that’s how women work, then that’s how women work.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Mystery solved.”
Edward arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m glad you’re satisfied, Russ, but I’m not. How in the hell is a cock going to rub that and be inside at the same time?” He watched his lover’s eyebrows arch, saw the mocking smile warming on Russel’s handsome face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. What’s a gay guy care. Well, for the sake of curiosity-”
“I wasn’t going to say that, Ed,” said Russel, gently. He sighed. “What if ... what if the angle determined it? Like, if you do it one way, you’ll rub against the kittyruss ...”
“Clitoris,” corrected Edward.
“Yeah, that,” said Russel. “If you were to angle the penetration just right, you’d rub it. Like cutting plant-stems at an angle so that the soil works around them when they graft.”
Edward blinked at him. Russel sighed.
“Like this,” he said, making a tunnel with his left hand and thrusting the index and middle fingers of his right into it, curving them so that they rubbed just under the index knuckle of his left hand, the way he fingered Edward while sucking the older man, rubbing the ring of muscle just right while still hitting Edward’s prostate.
Edward shifted and adjusted his growing erection in his briefs. “That’s going to do what, then?”
“Rub the kittyruss,” said Russel, thrusting his fingers into his left hand faster. “See? It’s rubbing my knuckle on the way in.”
Edward licked his lips. “It’s ‘clitoris,’ and you’re moving your hand, Russ,” he said. “I don’t think girls can move like that, don’t think they can make you rub that high up.”
Russel rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “Then ... here! This.” He touched the center of the piecrust tentatively, testing the temperature before sinking his fingers into the pie, breaking a small hole through the center. He thrust his fingers back and forth a few times, cracking the soft crust and wetting it with blackberry filling. “See?” he said. “It’s got to hit the kittyruss! See how it’s making the crust wet?”
He looked up just in time to see Edward pounce, the older man’s cheeks flushed and breath quick, warm against Russel’s cheek, his cock a stiff pressure against Russel’s hipbone. Russel moaned and shifted, opening his mouth to his lover’s kiss, holding his blackberry-sticky hand awkwardly out of the way, not wanting to smear Edward’s hair with the dark purple goop.
“Finger me, Russ,” Edward begged breathlessly, rubbing enticingly against Russel. “Please, Russ.”
“Let me wash my hands, Ed,” said Russel. “I don’t-”
Edward blinked at Russel’s purple fingers, then launched himself at them, grabbing the younger man’s wrist and sucking the fingers into his mouth, licking ravenously at them, cleaning them of any trace of pie-filling and moaning, eyes closed and body tight, hard and erotic. Russel groaned and watched, entranced, totally still until Edward pulled away, licking Russel’s fingers once or twice before licking his lips, catching most of the blackberry on them, save for the smears at the corners of his mouth.
“Yum,” he said. “Now, do it, please?”
Russel sat up and wrapped his arms around his lover, tasting blackberry on Edward’s tongue. “Not clean enough, baby,” he whispered. “Just let me wash my hands, and-”
“What are you two doing?”
Al was standing in the doorway, fingers laced with Danny’s, one golden eyebrow arched menacingly. Danny blushed and looked away, squeezing Al’s hand. Behind them stood Fletcher and Winry, Fletcher peering around Danny’s shoulder and tugging absently at his scarf. Edward swallowed hard and blushed, scrambling out of his lover’s lap and standing, hands covering the bulge in the front of his pants rather conspicuously.
“Um,” he said, intelligently.
“Whoa, what have you two been reading?” said Winry, pushing past Fletcher and stepping into the room, looking down at the open book on the table. “Female reproductive anatomy?”
“What?” said Al and Danny in unison, both squeezing through the kitchen door and bending to look at the book.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said Fletcher, draping his scarf over the kitchen doorknob and padding into the kitchen. “Curiosity get the better of you two?”
Edward scowled. “Do you all want pie or not?” His scowl deepened at the enthusiastic chorus of yes’s. “Then shut up and put the book away.”
He and Russel set plates and forks on the table, handing Al the pie-server with a pleading look. The boy rolled his eyes, but stood, steadying the pie plate with one hand and setting the tip of the pie-server in the center of the pie, right in the messy hole Russel’s demonstration had caused.
“I don’t want to know what made this hole, do I?” he said quietly, serving the first piece to Fletcher.
“Russ accidentally sunk his thumb in it,” Edward said. “He was checking to see if it had cooled properly or not.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Winry, smiling up at Al in thanks when the boy handed her a slice of the pie. “The way you two were going at it when we came it ...”
Edward laughed nervously. Russel stood and poured milk for everyone, blushing and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Halfway through his slice of pie, he noticed purple blackberry stains around the cuticles of his right index and middle fingers, and only barely managed to swallow his yelp of dismay, quickly switching his fork to his left hand to finish his pie.
If the others noticed, they didn’t let on. Al finished his pie and stretched, stacking Danny’s plate on top of his own and carrying them to the sink, then returning and taking the man’s hand in his own.
“We’ll be upstairs if you need us,” he said. “Thank you for the pie. It was delicious.”
Russel and Edward beamed, the older man too proud of their baking achievement to more than sigh as his brother disappeared up the stairs, Danny’s arm draped about Al’s slender waist, Al’s giggles muffled at the top of the stairs. He figured his fit could wait.
Just this once.