InsaneJournal

FMA fic, Craving
Wow, long time no see, fic journal! But look! I have a gift for you; a new fic for your lovely archives!

And now, for your reading pleasure, I present:

Title: Craving
Author: annabeth_fics, Lily
Pairing: unrequited Elricest
Genre: angst, shonen-ai
Rating: R
Warnings: language, incest
word count: 1857
Notes: Written at 4am, for crying out loud! Apologies if it’s terrible due to lack of sleep.
Summary: It was going to be the most perfect, split-second of bliss kiss Al could have.



Craving

Al’s new body felt tender and sore all over, the product of years of loss and desire, and he relished every time he took a breath the sting of air in his nostrils, the scent of pine from the hardwood floors he walked every day, the touch of his hair as it brushed against his face. Every little thing he touched was a mystery, a revelation, but the greatest revelation of all came one morning just after he awoke, sprawled in his brother’s bed, alone, with heavy feeling between his legs. Looking down, he realised he had his first erection -- so this is what it felt like. Glancing up, he spied his brother, bent over a tome like usual, his hair in its customary braid yet still managing to fall in his face as he worked.

Edward impatiently shoved his bangs out of his eyes, and Al found himself studying the lean curve of his brother’s spine as he worked, intent on the mysteries of the text in front of him. Al lifted the blanket a little and peeked at his flush new flesh, the glorious skin he’d longed for so long, the awe-inspiring ache in his groin -- the joy of his first erection, a phenomenon he’d noticed in Edward as his brother slept some mornings. Ed had never spoken of it, and so Al had never felt comfortable bringing it up. But now, he had his own, and as the novelty began to wear off Al realised it was really uncomfortable.

He let the blanket drop, inordinately amused by the little tent his penis was making, and then returned his gaze to his brother. Edward wore his usual garb, the tank top, the shiny leather pants, the leather thong in his hair. His automail shoulder drew Al’s eye only for a moment, until his gaze came to rest on the pale, slightly scarred flesh of his other, human, shoulder. Al wanted to kiss each and every scar and thank his brother a thousand times for enduring physical pain and injury in an attempt to restore his body. It was a sacrifice Al could never repay. It took a moment, and then the circuits in Al’s sleepy, newly-awakened brain connected with a sharp sizzle of realisation. He had been dreaming about Edward, naked in the bed with him, his hips bare and dripping with sweat, his eyes stormy gold, his hair loose and lustrous down his back and over Al’s hands -- hands that were cupped over Edward’s buttocks, as his brother rubbed against Al’s abdomen, knees clutching Al’s torso between them.

The dream was so vivid it came back to him in astonishing detail, full-colour and vibrant, and his erection throbbed painfully. Al turned his head away from Edward; he’d seen his brother naked before and he’d never felt--

No, that wasn’t true. He didn’t know if he’d ever felt this way when Edward was bare-skinned around him; he’d been an empty suit of armour at the time. Al squeezed his eyes shut; brothers didn’t want to kiss each other. It was like being doused with icy water: he could never kiss and touch his brother the way he wanted to, the way he’d dreamt. It was a sudden new desire, this; Al had certainly never noticed lust colouring thoughts of Ed. But now images of Edward shirtless, damp from sparring, dripping from the shower, golden-toned from the sun -- it flooded into his memory and filled him with an unspeakable longing. He wanted so much more from his relationship with Edward. He wanted stolen kisses in the moonlight, brazen touches in the first rays of morning with nothing to hide their scars from each other. It was true that the only mark on Al’s body was a crimson “birth mark,” so to speak, located at the back of his neck. But Ed -- Edward was a map of criss-crossing lines, a fabulous litany of all that he’d suffered, and Al loved every single mark on him. He turned to look at his brother again, and smiled a little at what he saw. Edward’s head had fallen forward on the reference book, and his mouth was just a little bit open, and his hand rested just under his sweaty cheek.

It was stiflingly warm in the little room, and Al was pretty sure it wasn’t just his desire that made him feel that way. He paused a moment to revel in the feel of heat caressing his skin, causing him to sweat just a little under the lightweight blanket. He pushed it off and climbed out of the bed, wondering as he always did how he always came to be in Edward’s bed come the morning. The floorboards were warm under his bare feet, and the room smelt of flowers from the open window, and something that permeated every thought Al had -- the soft transient scent of Ed, something he remembered from his earliest memories. Adjusting his pyjama pants over himself, he rolled his hips a little, trying to alleviate pressure that seemed too insistent to dissipate on its own. A shame he didn’t know what to do about it, having never had the privilege of asking his brother what he did about it.

Al crossed the room in only a couple short strides, the sun bathing his body in fierce warmth, and he closed his eyes and savoured it for a moment; he could almost taste the golden rays on his tongue. Opening his eyes, he leaned over Edward to whisper in his ear, something sweet and entirely appropriate, but once he was that close he could practically count Edward’s eyelashes, long and golden and resting like butterfly’s wings against his cheek. In sleep Edward was so peaceful, less volatile, deceptively harmless. No one would ever know to look at him that he was capable of great anger, great violence, and even murder -- if murder of a homunculus counted. But Edward did all of that for his brother, and never seemed to stop for a second to consider if it was worth it. Al knew that Edward would never believe -- could never be persuaded to believe -- that it wasn’t worth it. Al wanted to kiss those softly open lips, and he was filled with an exceptional desire for his first kiss, to feel things he’d never felt. Tentatively he reached out and brushed some hair away from Edward’s ear, marveling at the perfect whorl, the way his skin was soft and unmarked just under his ear. Al pressed even closer until his breath caused tendrils of Edward’s hair to sway out of place.

It was going to be the most perfect, split-second of bliss kiss Al could have. He could almost already feel those lips curved against his own -- would they be soft? Rough? He didn’t know and he couldn’t wait to find out. It never occurred to him to consider Edward’s reaction; he was his brother and he loved him to distraction.

Just before their lips touched, Edward’s eyelids fluttered open and he blinked rapidly.

“Al?” he said in a voice slightly wheezy from interrupted sleep. “Whaddya all about?”

Alphonse wasn’t sure he had words for the feelings coursing through him like a mighty rush of some as-yet-undetermined element, but he gave it his best shot. He gestured vaguely towards his pyjama bottoms and blinked himself.

“Well,” he said wistfully, “I was going to kiss you.” Had there ever been such folly? Had he not fully thought out the effect those six little words could have?

Edward pushed Al away with a hand, eyes wide and stark and startled.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

All of a sudden Al felt his vision dim to a tiny point, and he wavered on his newly-transmuted feet.

“I wanted to--”

“No, fuck that, I heard you, I just thought I was still dreaming. Al, I don’t know what you were thinking, but you’re confused.”

“How do I always wind up in your bed at night, Brother?” Al asked, the words tripping across his tongue and tumbling from lips denied too soon their first kiss.

“How the hell should I know? I wake up and you’re there, pressed up into the hollow of my side like you belong there.”

“What if I do belong there, Brother? Would it be -- would it be so wrong?” The moment the words left his mouth, Al knew it was the wrong thing to say. Edward’s eyes darkened.

“Al, you’re my only family, and my brother, and I would do anything for you. But I will not do anything with you. I adore you, it’s true, and I’m sorry to break this news to you, but an erection is purely physical. You woke up in my bed like you always do, and this time it wasn’t gone when you woke up. But that’s not because of me, Al, that’s nature.”

Edward dragged his automail hand through his hair, wincing as he tore some of the blonde strands free of his scalp. Al sat down suddenly on the floor, the feel of the hardwood against his buttocks hard and unyielding. Intractable, the way that Edward was being. He didn’t understand. It wasn’t nature, it was love, and how could Edward not feel the same way? They did everything together.

“But I love you, Brother,” Al said helplessly, the rise in his pyjamas gone down now. His brother’s unexpected rejection left him feeling cold and sick on the floor. Even the beautiful warmth of the sun couldn’t seem to penetrate the sudden icy cloud around him. “I need you.”

“Al, I’m only gonna say this once more. This feeling you’ve got for me, it’s fucked up. It’s not real, not the way you think it is. I’m not gonna stop loving you, but you can’t talk about this anymore. Not to anyone else, and especially not me. I don’t want to hear about it again.”

Edward got up and left the room, and Al heard him rustling in the kitchen. He sat on the floor so long the sun stretched all the way across the room and disappeared down the wall, vanishing into the twilight that pulled itself like a shroud over the room. It was unthinkable that Edward would react so harshly, and when he fell asleep, still on the floor, he awoke to lips as soft as a summer breeze on his forehead.

“I’m sorry, Al,” his brother whispered gently. “I do love you. I only do this to protect you; I don’t have those feelings for you, and if anyone were to find out, they’d ostracise you. They would tear you apart.”

Al kept his eyes closed, and after a moment Edward gathered him into arms he’d longed to feel this way, yet not exactly this way, and carried him to his own bed.

Much later, in the deepest part of the night, Al awoke with his hand on Edward’s doorknob. He must have been sleep walking; but when he turned the knob it wouldn’t budge. The door was locked.

end.