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rajTitle: Methodology
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raja815
Pairing/Fandom: Edward Elric/His hand, Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 2530
Warnings Descriptions of masturbation. Some silliness in the beginning.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Written for Ed month at Greatestjournel's fma_fuh_q for my Ed/Hand claim. I wanted some practice writing Ed, (which I don't think I did very well, but at least I tried.) Also, some tachi gen got in there. (Havoc/bottle zomgOTP)
“I like to use my left hand. Sometimes. For a change, y’know? Makes it feel like it’s a different person.”
“Heh. Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?”
“Shut your fucking face—hey, did you drink my other beer?”
“You drank it yourself.” Second Lieutenant Breda bonked Second Lieutenant Havoc gently on the head with the empty bottle. He frowned, exhaled a mouthful of smoke into Breda’s face, and took it from him. He examined it, looking pensive.
“What about an empty bottle? Ever tried it with an empty bottle?”
Breda took the bottle back, winced at it, then turned and winked at his friend. “Fuck, Havo, that’s an awfully small hole…”
At that, Edward Elric, who’d paused with his hand on the doorknob and the door to Colonel Mustang’s office barely cracked open at the sound of the voices, clamped his hand over his mouth in an effort not to burst into hysterical laughter. His gloved metal hand bumped a little too hard against his teeth and an unpleasant pressure flashed through his jaw, but even that wasn’t enough to defer the onslaught of suppressed chuckles.
“I didn’t mean a beer bottle, you moron, I meant—” Havoc started, waving the bottle spastically, but the rest of the undoubtedly amusing sentence went unheard by Ed, as Al took that moment to lean down and whisper in his ear.
“Brother, maybe we should come back later. They seem kind of… busy.” His normally high-pitched voice was even higher than usual, and choppy with uncomfortable giggles. If suits of armor could blush, he would’ve been red as a lobster.
Ed turned to his brother, biting back his laughter and trying to force his face into something at least resembling nonchalance. “Nah. We already walked all the way here. If we wait ‘til they’re done we’ll end up spending the whole afternoon here and we’ll miss the train.”
“But, brother—”
“Don’t worry about it, Al.” He gave his brother’s leg plate a companionable smack, and then practically splintered the door with excessive knocking. “Hello! Anybody there?” He said, much louder than was strictly necessary. Al sighed, pressing his gauntlet to his face.
“Shit,” Havoc hissed in a harsh whisper, and even over Ed’s knocking the sound of clinking glass was audible. “I thought you said everyone was out for lunch today!”
“They are. Don’t spazz about it, just stick the bottles back in my bag… unless you want to go have sex with one of them for a little while, of course.”
“Don’t you ever quit?” Havoc whispered again, then yelled over the sound of knocking. “Come in!”
Ed sauntered in, trying to keep his face neutral, which was suddenly a good deal harder. Laughter threatened in the base of his throat, but he bit it back, not wanting to let on he’d been eavesdropping on their… er, ‘private’ conversation. “Hey.”
Havoc and Breda, on the other hand, looked considerably more relieved. After all, if there was one higher-ranking officer who wasn’t likely to bust them for smuggling a few lunchtime beers into the office, it was Major Edward Elric.
“Hey, Chief,” Havoc said, grinning and saluting, though he didn’t rise from his chair. Ed had a moment to wonder if this was because Havoc was being casual or if it was some kind of subtle jab at his height, until he noticed Havoc’s left hand still folded over his lap and remembered the man’s admission to that hand’s activities and had to bite his lips to keep from dissolving into laughter. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Yeah. Not like you to show up unless someone practically court martials you,” Breda added, and clapped Ed on the shoulder. When he noticed Al, who’d been trying to wait unnoticed in the doorway (a difficult task for a seven foot suit of armor) he grinned and waved. “Hey, Al. Come in, why don’t ya. Stay awhile.”
“Oh… okay,” Al replied, voice clipped against his own suppressed laughter.
“What brings you kids into town?” Havoc asked, and took a long drag of his cigarette. Ed bristled a bit at that, which turned out to be a good thing, as it momentarily drove all thoughts of laughter from his mind.
“Don’t call me ‘kid,’ ” he grumbled, and glared a bit when Havoc chuckled. “We had a delay for our transfer train, and we’re stuck here until three. I thought I’d come in and report now, so I can go another six months without an encounter with Colonel Bastard’s smug face.”
Breda chuckled. “Heh. Well, it’s nice to see you thinking ahead, but you know what they say about best-laid plans. You picked a bad day for it.”
“Yeah,” Havoc grinned. “Unfortunately Colonel Bastard’s face, along with the rest of him, is in a lunch meeting today with the Brigadier General.”
“I told you we should’ve called first,” Al mumbled, but Ed ignored him.
“How much longer is he gonna be? I want to get this over with.”
Breda shrugged. “Hard to say. You could walk down there and see if you want. He usually sticks around after the meetings are over to flirt with the Brigadier General’s secretary.”
“Yeah. But if you went in as soon as it’s over, I bet you could pull him awa—wait a minute,” Havoc said, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. “Which secretary is that?”
“The short one. Curly hair. Brunette… er, Annie, I think her name is?”
“I was supposed to go out with her! She started making excuses last week when the—”
“When the Colonel started this round of meetings? Figures.”
“This makes twenty-eight! Twenty-fucking-eight! I’ll kill him! I’ll fucking kill him!”
“Easy, Havo—”
“That’s more than the number of years I’ve been alive!”
“Maybe you should have another beer…” Breda soothed, and Ed and Al chose that moment to quietly slip away.
*****
Ed was finishing up a gigantic bowl of noodle soup in the train’s dining car, trying to bury the memory of the afternoon’s shouting match—er, report, that is—with the Colonel, where Ed had been annoyingly one-upped for forty-five minutes. It probably would’ve carried on longer, but Havoc had stuck his head in the door of Mustang’s private office (looking slightly more upset and considerably more intoxicated than he’d been when Ed and Al had last left him) and demanded “a word” with his commander.
As Ed slurped up a particularly long noodle, he remembered a few of the Colonel’s choicest comments to him and hoped Havoc’s “word” to Mustang had come attached to the end of his fist.
“I feel bad for Havoc,” Al mumbled, poking at his own untouched bowl of noodles. He always ordered food, rather than risk the odd looks from whoever was serving them. And Ed usually finished both portions off easily, anyway, so it wasn’t like anything was going to waste. “Twenty-eight is an awfully high number of women to lose to someone. He must feel lonely.”
Ed licked the last of the broth from his spoon and traded his empty bowl for Al’s full one. “Well, I’m sure he’ll find a way to ease the pain.” He snickered, jerking his head toward the empty soda bottle he’d polished off earlier.
“That’s not very nice, Brother,” Al scolded, but he put a gauntlet over his mouth… a remembered gesture to hide a smile that he was no longer capable of making.
For some reason, that gesture hit Ed hard, wiping the grin off his face. His stomach sunk, and for a minute he simply looked at his brother’s unmoving metal face.
We’ve been laughing all day, but he can’t even smile…
It scared him how comfortable he’d become with Al’s current state. Sometimes he could almost forget how things had once been, and how things should have been now. He couldn’t let that happen again.
“Brother? Is something wrong?”
“Nah,” Ed made himself smile, and pushed the mostly full bowl away. His appetite, for once, seemed to be gone. “Let’s go back and sit down. I want to look through some of those books we took out before I go to sleep.”
*****
He should’ve been asleep long ago. Everyone else on the car was, judging by the overwhelming silence punctuated only by the occasional soft snore from the large woman on the bench across from them. The lights on the train had been dimmed to the point where reading was painful on his eyes, and the small lamp he’d transmuted out of his empty soda bottle (fueled by a small amount of propane made from a few drops of water and a bit of his pencil lead) was sputtering. But he couldn’t seem to relax.
“You’ll have all day tomorrow to read, Brother,” Al prompted gently when he noticed Ed yawning. “Why don’t you lie down? There’s plenty of room, and you’ll be more comfortable.”
“You sayin’ I’m so small these benches are like a king-sized mattress to me?” Ed replied, though he was too distracted to get much of his usual venom behind it.
“That’s not what I said at all!”
“Don’t try with me, I know when I’m being insulted.” But he smiled. “Yeah, okay. I’ll lie down. I’m going to go change into a softer shirt, though. I always wake up sweating and itchy when I sleep in this jacket.”
“Good idea. You look tired; that’ll help you rest better.”
Ed pulled his small suitcase out from under the bench. “Back in a sec,” he murmured, and made his way up the aisle, dodging the occasional splayed legs of snoring passengers slumped over in their seats.
Cramped as the small lavatory at the back of the car was, Ed had little problem moving around (though once the thought occurred, he quickly pushed it fro his mind and refused to think that ever again.) He balanced the suitcase on the little sink and began rooting through it, past the considerable stash of snacks, alchemy texts, and the occasional comic book, and finally found his clothes in a rumpled, wrinkly ball at the very bottom of the case. He sighed and began pulling the articles out one by one, hoping he’d find a shirt clean enough to fall asleep in.
When he finally located a clean(ish) cotton undershirt, he shook it violently to banish the stale smell of his suitcase, and laid it on top of the case to air further as he pulled off his jacket. Once he was bare-chested, with nipples hard and gooseflesh rising along his arms at the slight chill, he reached for it… and stopped with his arm outstretched.
“Makes it feel like it’s a different person, y’know?”
His metal arm gleamed in the faintly flickering light from the sconce on the back wall. For a moment he stared at it, then flexed his fingers one by one. Almost transfixed, he brought his prosthetic fingers to his cheek, and ran in over his skin. While his face tingled in response to the chilly metal, his fingers, as always, felt nothing. He slid it lower, over his nipple in a sharp, cold flash, and further down, letting it rest at the fastening on his pants.
Like a different person… a different body… a false body…
The guilt that had hit him at dinner resurfaced, stronger this time; he was letting himself get distracted again. Ed grit his teeth and waited for the urge to pass; he was on a train, for goodness sake, and it wasn’t fair to make Al wait…
Ed spent most of his time trying not to think about sex. From what he’d seen, it served as nothing more than a distraction from one’s own more important work, and he had enough on his plate without that kind of distraction. And besides… Al was always around, and it felt wrong to remind him of yet one more thing he was currently incapable of.
But, every once in a while…
The urge wasn’t going anywhere. It had been too long. He was young, and he needed the release, much as he hated to admit it. He reached for his shirt, trying to force himself to ignore it, but in the end he couldn’t and gave in.
If nothing else he could at least claim to himself he was just doing this to check the method.
Once he made the decision, his fingers moved quickly, undoing his fly and sliding a glove over his metal hand to keep the skin from snagging. He flexed his metal fingers carefully, hoping to loosen the joints, and leaned against one of the walls. As he did so, he worked his flesh fingers quickly over his cock, working it to hardness, concentrating on the sensations, letting his body take over, relinquishing his control.
“Like a different person, huh?” He mumbled under his breath, once his heart was pounding and his hips had begun to rock forward slightly, and he pulled his left hand away and reached down with his right.
Gingerly, afraid of using too much pressure, he closed his gloved hand around the base of his erection, sliding the loose skin upward. He shivered as his foreskin moved over the tip of his cock, and gave another pull of his hand.
It did feel different. He had almost perfect control of the automail after so many years, but it still lacked the exact finesse of his flesh hand, and the lack of feeling in the false fingertips did lend an alien quality to the experience. He stroked a bit, letting the soft fabric of his glove ghost over his skin. Yes, he decided, biting his lip slightly against the pleasurable feeling drifting upwards through his stomach, he could see how it might feel like a different person.
But which person?
He tried not to think of that, tried to let the sensation alone be enough. It wasn’t fair to want more, not when Al was stuck like he was. He had Al, he didn’t need anyone else. It felt unfair, to want someone else… but his body seemed to have other plans. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, he pumped faster, the slight chafe of the glove dueling with the pleasure as images began to swim through his head.
A hand… not my hand… someone different… someone safe and sweet and soft who kisses my neck and touches me, makes me feel good… someone I can trust… a beautiful hand, a beautiful face, a beautiful person who makes me hard and shiver and cry out…
With a sharp gasp he came, semen spurting over his glove and dripping down into his pubic hair. For a moment he rested, letting the cold air take the color from his cheeks and dry his sweat. Once his mind felt clear, he cleaned himself with his soiled shirt and put on the cleaner one. Grimacing at the mess on his glove, Ed rolled it up in the ball of laundry at the bottom of his suitcase and hoped he had a clean pair in there somewhere as well.
He walked back to his seat, greeted Al, and took his suggestion and curled up on the bench. At least he now felt relaxed enough to sleep, even if his earlier guilt was gnawing at his stomach. It never felt right; he should be focusing on getting Al’s body back, he shouldn’t distract himself…
“Everything all right, Brother?” Al asked, laying a hand gently on Ed’s shoulder.
“Everything’s fine,” Ed smiled, and rolled over. It was true, or at least mostly true. He’d be fine by the next morning, anyway. Guilt wasn’t a new feeling, after all.
And in the meantime, he could always picture Havoc bashing Mustang’s face with an empty bottle if his spirits needed a lift.
Man, I fail at writing Ed. XD;; Oh well, at least I made an effort. :) Comments would be nice.
Author:
raja815Pairing/Fandom: Edward Elric/His hand, Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 2530
Warnings Descriptions of masturbation. Some silliness in the beginning.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Written for Ed month at Greatestjournel's fma_fuh_q for my Ed/Hand claim. I wanted some practice writing Ed, (which I don't think I did very well, but at least I tried.) Also, some tachi gen got in there. (Havoc/bottle zomgOTP)
“I like to use my left hand. Sometimes. For a change, y’know? Makes it feel like it’s a different person.”
“Heh. Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?”
“Shut your fucking face—hey, did you drink my other beer?”
“You drank it yourself.” Second Lieutenant Breda bonked Second Lieutenant Havoc gently on the head with the empty bottle. He frowned, exhaled a mouthful of smoke into Breda’s face, and took it from him. He examined it, looking pensive.
“What about an empty bottle? Ever tried it with an empty bottle?”
Breda took the bottle back, winced at it, then turned and winked at his friend. “Fuck, Havo, that’s an awfully small hole…”
At that, Edward Elric, who’d paused with his hand on the doorknob and the door to Colonel Mustang’s office barely cracked open at the sound of the voices, clamped his hand over his mouth in an effort not to burst into hysterical laughter. His gloved metal hand bumped a little too hard against his teeth and an unpleasant pressure flashed through his jaw, but even that wasn’t enough to defer the onslaught of suppressed chuckles.
“I didn’t mean a beer bottle, you moron, I meant—” Havoc started, waving the bottle spastically, but the rest of the undoubtedly amusing sentence went unheard by Ed, as Al took that moment to lean down and whisper in his ear.
“Brother, maybe we should come back later. They seem kind of… busy.” His normally high-pitched voice was even higher than usual, and choppy with uncomfortable giggles. If suits of armor could blush, he would’ve been red as a lobster.
Ed turned to his brother, biting back his laughter and trying to force his face into something at least resembling nonchalance. “Nah. We already walked all the way here. If we wait ‘til they’re done we’ll end up spending the whole afternoon here and we’ll miss the train.”
“But, brother—”
“Don’t worry about it, Al.” He gave his brother’s leg plate a companionable smack, and then practically splintered the door with excessive knocking. “Hello! Anybody there?” He said, much louder than was strictly necessary. Al sighed, pressing his gauntlet to his face.
“Shit,” Havoc hissed in a harsh whisper, and even over Ed’s knocking the sound of clinking glass was audible. “I thought you said everyone was out for lunch today!”
“They are. Don’t spazz about it, just stick the bottles back in my bag… unless you want to go have sex with one of them for a little while, of course.”
“Don’t you ever quit?” Havoc whispered again, then yelled over the sound of knocking. “Come in!”
Ed sauntered in, trying to keep his face neutral, which was suddenly a good deal harder. Laughter threatened in the base of his throat, but he bit it back, not wanting to let on he’d been eavesdropping on their… er, ‘private’ conversation. “Hey.”
Havoc and Breda, on the other hand, looked considerably more relieved. After all, if there was one higher-ranking officer who wasn’t likely to bust them for smuggling a few lunchtime beers into the office, it was Major Edward Elric.
“Hey, Chief,” Havoc said, grinning and saluting, though he didn’t rise from his chair. Ed had a moment to wonder if this was because Havoc was being casual or if it was some kind of subtle jab at his height, until he noticed Havoc’s left hand still folded over his lap and remembered the man’s admission to that hand’s activities and had to bite his lips to keep from dissolving into laughter. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Yeah. Not like you to show up unless someone practically court martials you,” Breda added, and clapped Ed on the shoulder. When he noticed Al, who’d been trying to wait unnoticed in the doorway (a difficult task for a seven foot suit of armor) he grinned and waved. “Hey, Al. Come in, why don’t ya. Stay awhile.”
“Oh… okay,” Al replied, voice clipped against his own suppressed laughter.
“What brings you kids into town?” Havoc asked, and took a long drag of his cigarette. Ed bristled a bit at that, which turned out to be a good thing, as it momentarily drove all thoughts of laughter from his mind.
“Don’t call me ‘kid,’ ” he grumbled, and glared a bit when Havoc chuckled. “We had a delay for our transfer train, and we’re stuck here until three. I thought I’d come in and report now, so I can go another six months without an encounter with Colonel Bastard’s smug face.”
Breda chuckled. “Heh. Well, it’s nice to see you thinking ahead, but you know what they say about best-laid plans. You picked a bad day for it.”
“Yeah,” Havoc grinned. “Unfortunately Colonel Bastard’s face, along with the rest of him, is in a lunch meeting today with the Brigadier General.”
“I told you we should’ve called first,” Al mumbled, but Ed ignored him.
“How much longer is he gonna be? I want to get this over with.”
Breda shrugged. “Hard to say. You could walk down there and see if you want. He usually sticks around after the meetings are over to flirt with the Brigadier General’s secretary.”
“Yeah. But if you went in as soon as it’s over, I bet you could pull him awa—wait a minute,” Havoc said, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. “Which secretary is that?”
“The short one. Curly hair. Brunette… er, Annie, I think her name is?”
“I was supposed to go out with her! She started making excuses last week when the—”
“When the Colonel started this round of meetings? Figures.”
“This makes twenty-eight! Twenty-fucking-eight! I’ll kill him! I’ll fucking kill him!”
“Easy, Havo—”
“That’s more than the number of years I’ve been alive!”
“Maybe you should have another beer…” Breda soothed, and Ed and Al chose that moment to quietly slip away.
Ed was finishing up a gigantic bowl of noodle soup in the train’s dining car, trying to bury the memory of the afternoon’s shouting match—er, report, that is—with the Colonel, where Ed had been annoyingly one-upped for forty-five minutes. It probably would’ve carried on longer, but Havoc had stuck his head in the door of Mustang’s private office (looking slightly more upset and considerably more intoxicated than he’d been when Ed and Al had last left him) and demanded “a word” with his commander.
As Ed slurped up a particularly long noodle, he remembered a few of the Colonel’s choicest comments to him and hoped Havoc’s “word” to Mustang had come attached to the end of his fist.
“I feel bad for Havoc,” Al mumbled, poking at his own untouched bowl of noodles. He always ordered food, rather than risk the odd looks from whoever was serving them. And Ed usually finished both portions off easily, anyway, so it wasn’t like anything was going to waste. “Twenty-eight is an awfully high number of women to lose to someone. He must feel lonely.”
Ed licked the last of the broth from his spoon and traded his empty bowl for Al’s full one. “Well, I’m sure he’ll find a way to ease the pain.” He snickered, jerking his head toward the empty soda bottle he’d polished off earlier.
“That’s not very nice, Brother,” Al scolded, but he put a gauntlet over his mouth… a remembered gesture to hide a smile that he was no longer capable of making.
For some reason, that gesture hit Ed hard, wiping the grin off his face. His stomach sunk, and for a minute he simply looked at his brother’s unmoving metal face.
We’ve been laughing all day, but he can’t even smile…
It scared him how comfortable he’d become with Al’s current state. Sometimes he could almost forget how things had once been, and how things should have been now. He couldn’t let that happen again.
“Brother? Is something wrong?”
“Nah,” Ed made himself smile, and pushed the mostly full bowl away. His appetite, for once, seemed to be gone. “Let’s go back and sit down. I want to look through some of those books we took out before I go to sleep.”
He should’ve been asleep long ago. Everyone else on the car was, judging by the overwhelming silence punctuated only by the occasional soft snore from the large woman on the bench across from them. The lights on the train had been dimmed to the point where reading was painful on his eyes, and the small lamp he’d transmuted out of his empty soda bottle (fueled by a small amount of propane made from a few drops of water and a bit of his pencil lead) was sputtering. But he couldn’t seem to relax.
“You’ll have all day tomorrow to read, Brother,” Al prompted gently when he noticed Ed yawning. “Why don’t you lie down? There’s plenty of room, and you’ll be more comfortable.”
“You sayin’ I’m so small these benches are like a king-sized mattress to me?” Ed replied, though he was too distracted to get much of his usual venom behind it.
“That’s not what I said at all!”
“Don’t try with me, I know when I’m being insulted.” But he smiled. “Yeah, okay. I’ll lie down. I’m going to go change into a softer shirt, though. I always wake up sweating and itchy when I sleep in this jacket.”
“Good idea. You look tired; that’ll help you rest better.”
Ed pulled his small suitcase out from under the bench. “Back in a sec,” he murmured, and made his way up the aisle, dodging the occasional splayed legs of snoring passengers slumped over in their seats.
Cramped as the small lavatory at the back of the car was, Ed had little problem moving around (though once the thought occurred, he quickly pushed it fro his mind and refused to think that ever again.) He balanced the suitcase on the little sink and began rooting through it, past the considerable stash of snacks, alchemy texts, and the occasional comic book, and finally found his clothes in a rumpled, wrinkly ball at the very bottom of the case. He sighed and began pulling the articles out one by one, hoping he’d find a shirt clean enough to fall asleep in.
When he finally located a clean(ish) cotton undershirt, he shook it violently to banish the stale smell of his suitcase, and laid it on top of the case to air further as he pulled off his jacket. Once he was bare-chested, with nipples hard and gooseflesh rising along his arms at the slight chill, he reached for it… and stopped with his arm outstretched.
“Makes it feel like it’s a different person, y’know?”
His metal arm gleamed in the faintly flickering light from the sconce on the back wall. For a moment he stared at it, then flexed his fingers one by one. Almost transfixed, he brought his prosthetic fingers to his cheek, and ran in over his skin. While his face tingled in response to the chilly metal, his fingers, as always, felt nothing. He slid it lower, over his nipple in a sharp, cold flash, and further down, letting it rest at the fastening on his pants.
Like a different person… a different body… a false body…
The guilt that had hit him at dinner resurfaced, stronger this time; he was letting himself get distracted again. Ed grit his teeth and waited for the urge to pass; he was on a train, for goodness sake, and it wasn’t fair to make Al wait…
Ed spent most of his time trying not to think about sex. From what he’d seen, it served as nothing more than a distraction from one’s own more important work, and he had enough on his plate without that kind of distraction. And besides… Al was always around, and it felt wrong to remind him of yet one more thing he was currently incapable of.
But, every once in a while…
The urge wasn’t going anywhere. It had been too long. He was young, and he needed the release, much as he hated to admit it. He reached for his shirt, trying to force himself to ignore it, but in the end he couldn’t and gave in.
If nothing else he could at least claim to himself he was just doing this to check the method.
Once he made the decision, his fingers moved quickly, undoing his fly and sliding a glove over his metal hand to keep the skin from snagging. He flexed his metal fingers carefully, hoping to loosen the joints, and leaned against one of the walls. As he did so, he worked his flesh fingers quickly over his cock, working it to hardness, concentrating on the sensations, letting his body take over, relinquishing his control.
“Like a different person, huh?” He mumbled under his breath, once his heart was pounding and his hips had begun to rock forward slightly, and he pulled his left hand away and reached down with his right.
Gingerly, afraid of using too much pressure, he closed his gloved hand around the base of his erection, sliding the loose skin upward. He shivered as his foreskin moved over the tip of his cock, and gave another pull of his hand.
It did feel different. He had almost perfect control of the automail after so many years, but it still lacked the exact finesse of his flesh hand, and the lack of feeling in the false fingertips did lend an alien quality to the experience. He stroked a bit, letting the soft fabric of his glove ghost over his skin. Yes, he decided, biting his lip slightly against the pleasurable feeling drifting upwards through his stomach, he could see how it might feel like a different person.
But which person?
He tried not to think of that, tried to let the sensation alone be enough. It wasn’t fair to want more, not when Al was stuck like he was. He had Al, he didn’t need anyone else. It felt unfair, to want someone else… but his body seemed to have other plans. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, he pumped faster, the slight chafe of the glove dueling with the pleasure as images began to swim through his head.
A hand… not my hand… someone different… someone safe and sweet and soft who kisses my neck and touches me, makes me feel good… someone I can trust… a beautiful hand, a beautiful face, a beautiful person who makes me hard and shiver and cry out…
With a sharp gasp he came, semen spurting over his glove and dripping down into his pubic hair. For a moment he rested, letting the cold air take the color from his cheeks and dry his sweat. Once his mind felt clear, he cleaned himself with his soiled shirt and put on the cleaner one. Grimacing at the mess on his glove, Ed rolled it up in the ball of laundry at the bottom of his suitcase and hoped he had a clean pair in there somewhere as well.
He walked back to his seat, greeted Al, and took his suggestion and curled up on the bench. At least he now felt relaxed enough to sleep, even if his earlier guilt was gnawing at his stomach. It never felt right; he should be focusing on getting Al’s body back, he shouldn’t distract himself…
“Everything all right, Brother?” Al asked, laying a hand gently on Ed’s shoulder.
“Everything’s fine,” Ed smiled, and rolled over. It was true, or at least mostly true. He’d be fine by the next morning, anyway. Guilt wasn’t a new feeling, after all.
And in the meantime, he could always picture Havoc bashing Mustang’s face with an empty bottle if his spirits needed a lift.
Man, I fail at writing Ed. XD;; Oh well, at least I made an effort. :) Comments would be nice.
