Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Snake in the Playpen ❯ Part 3: Secrets ( Chapter 3 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

SNAKE IN THE PLAYPEN
A Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfic With Lemon
Written in Response to Challenges #2 (“The Audience,”) #15 (“The Bordello, or Dude Looks Like a Lady of the Night”) and #30 (“The Playroom, or, Wow, Santa Never Brought Me *That* Kind of Toy!") on the 30_Lemons Community

By Sailor Mac

PART THREE -- SECRETS

Russell walked into the party, thinking that the more formal suit he was wearing tonight was even *more* restrictive and uncomfortable than the one he’d been wearing that afternoon. He felt like a mummy trying to move within its wrappings.

The room was crowded, so much that it seemed there was hardly any room for *air* in there. In front of him, a man in a tuxedo was chatting up a platinum blonde with considerably darker eyelashes and eyebrows. On the couch, three men sat, all seeming to vie for the attention of the brunette in the chair opposite him, her trim figure swathed in an elegant “little black dress.” Waiters passed glasses of champagne, a silver-haired man sat at the piano, playing classical-influenced arrangements of popular tunes.

Like anything else at Madame Marie’s, it seemed like just another upper-class party until you looked a little closer and realized that the necklines were too low, the skirts too high -- and, in the case of the house’s male workers, the pants on their suits were just a bit too tight.

Russell took a glass off a passing tray -- he didn’t have any intention of drinking it, it was just something to hold onto, something to make him feel a little less awkward.

A chubby man with a shining bald pate fringed with salt and pepper hair, barely stuffed into his tuxedo, suddenly bumped into him. “Oh, hello,” he said. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“I’m a new customer,” Russell said. “Today was my first time here.”

“Oh, you’re gonna be hooked,” the man said. “I come here all the time. Wife has no idea, she thinks I’m out with the guys. But, hey, if wives weren’t such cold fish, we wouldn’t need places like this, huh?”

“I’m not married,” said Russell in an even tone.

“Ah, young guy sowing his wild oats, huh?” said the man, taking a gulp from his champagne glass that drained more than half of it. “Can’t say I blame you. Live it up before you go to the altar, huh?”

Russell was extremely relieved to see Ed pushing his way through the crowd toward him. “Excuse me,” he said. “I see my regular.”

The man looked over at Ed -- and his face immediately took on an expression like he was inhaling a pile of garbage that had been ripening in the hot sun for a week. “Oh, you’re one of *those*,” he said in a tone of contempt, before turning and walking away, shaking his head and muttering, “Madame Marie’s gotta be desperate to cater to those sickos.”

“Nice guy,” Ed said as they watched him leave. “I can see why *he* has to pay.”

“Sorry I’m a bit late,” Russell said. “I was in the *meeting* longer than I expected.”

Ed nodded -- he immediately understood what Russell meant. “It’s okay, the party’s just now getting started, really,” he said loudly, for the benefit of anyone listening. Softly, to Russell, he said, “We need a quiet place to talk for a moment.”

“Can’t we go to your room?”

“Not quite yet.” Ed’s eyes darted around. “Everyone else is downstairs . . .”

Russell nodded -- they didn’t want to look suspicious. “Let’s head back toward the kitchen, then,” he said.

The boys pushed their way through the crowds, brushing against velvet and satin and sequins, inhaling innumerable different perfumes and cigars, until they were in the hall leading to Madame Marie’s office. Fortunately, that seemed deserted -- for now.

Ed leaned over and whispered, “She had me talking to all these guys who are *lining up to be my customers* after *you* are done with me!”

“We know that’s not going to happen,” Russell whispered back.

“I know, but they were looking me over like a piece of meat and *poking* my automail.” He rubbed the false limb as if it could feel pain. “You don’t know how hard it was not to beat the crap out of them.”

Russell fully understood. He was feeling an urge to track the guys down and beat the crap out of them himself. “Did you . . . *hear* anything?” he whispered.

“All I can say is this -- be on the lookout for any workers here in fancier clothes than the others, especially if you see them talking to politicians or military men. They might be . . . what we need.”

Russell nodded -- Ed apparently had found evidence pinpointing possible spies. “Come on, we have to get back . . .”

As they started back into the room, the crowd seemed to have gotten even *thicker* -- Russell thought if people didn’t start making their transactions for the evening and going upstairs *now*, the walls would burst from the sheer volume.

They nudged their way past a love seat, where a stunning brunette, her ears and throat dripping with sparkling jewels over an elegant red velvet dress, sat talking to a man Russell recognized from the local papers -- a millionaire who’d basically bought his way into political office in Amestris’ first free elections.

“April, I’ve told you a million times,” he was saying. “I can take you away from this. I can set you up in a nice apartment . . .”

Ed suddenly stopped in his tracks, his metal fingers clamping down on Russell’s arm. Russell got the message immediately. The boys had to take a position where they could keep an eye on her, while trying to remain inconspicuous.

Ed happened to notice several couples around them attempting to dance in the crowd, but not getting very far because of the lack of room.

“Dance,” Ed whispered, grabbing the champagne glass away from his lover and putting it on a nearby table, then wrapping his arms around his waist. This would allow them to not talk, yet not look suspicious. Russell took the hint, and started swaying along with him.

On the seat next to them, April was saying, “I can’t leave, you know that. I owe a lot to Madame Marie.”

“You owe her nothing!” the man said. “You’ve worked for her for five years!”

April leaned over and put a hand on his knee. “Roger, if I was going to leave, believe me, you would be the one I’d leave for. But . . . I’m not going to.”

“What is it, then?” he said. “Is it money? I’ve got plenty of that, April. So much that my wife won’t miss it.”

“It’s not money, Roger. It’s . . . a matter of loyalty.”

Ed and Russell exchanged a look. This sounded like they were on to something.

“Loyalty?” the man said. “April, for *what*? She doesn’t do anything more for her people than any other madam out there! Whatever she gives you, I can give you *more*.”

“You have no idea what our lives are like!” the woman snapped, the mask of the trained man-pleaser falling away, the expression of a fierce tigress taking its place. “You . . .”

Suddenly, she took a deep breath, regaining her composure, and said, “Roger, let’s not discuss this right now. You’re ruining the mood. Let’s just . . .” She reached over and caressed his chest. “Open the bottle of champagne I have on ice in my room.”

A broad grin split Roger’s face. “You have a deal, baby,” he said.

Russell and Ed looked at each other and nodded, almost imperceptibly. They knew what they were going to do -- try to find her in the spy network, and see just what they were talking about over that champagne.

Fortunately, at that time, other workers were begining to head upstairs with their customers, so it didn’t look that unusual when they started for the elaborately carved staircase, hand in hand.

* * *

They didn’t turn on the light when they went into the room, just in case someone *else* was in the spy network, trying to peek in at them. As Ed held open the door, Russell made his way to the closet by the light pooling in from the hallway, opening the door and feeling around for the interior knob and latch.

Once he had it open, both boys slipped into the secret hallway, Ed shutting the door behind him.

“You know anything about where *pets* might have their rooms?” Russell whispered.

Ed shook his head. “They didn’t say anything about that. Guess we have to just look around this level.”

They walked forward in silence, peeking into any room that seemed lit. In one, a woman with long, black hair was starting to peel a near-giant’s expensive suit off. In another, a dark-haired boy was creatively stripping out of his suit, wiggling his bottom for the benefit of the man lounged on the bed, sliding the jacket down his shoulders and then back up again, tugging at his tie . . .

“Yeah, you *think* you’re hot shit, don’t you?” Ed mumbled to the window.

Russell frowned and turned toward him. “What was that?”

“Eh, that guy’s a jerk,” Ed said. “I met him in the lounge. Really full of himself. Stuck-up.”

Russell smiled to himself. “I once met someone like that.”

Ed whirled to face him. “*You* weren’t exactly Mr. Charm when I first met *you*, either!”

“I don’t usually greet people who break into my lab with tea and cookies,” Russell said breezily as they turned a corner.

“Yeah, well, I don’t greet people who *steal my name* with flowers, either,” Ed said as they peered around, seeing mostly darkened windows.

“Too bad,” Russell said. “I could have used them as weapons.”

It was as much a part of their relationship as working on alchemy together or making love, this banter about the circumstances of their first meeting. To a casual observer, it would seem sometimes that these two were still at odds with each other, still holding grudges.

Nobody would know it was quite the opposite. Sometimes, Russell and Ed didn’t even admit it themselves.

They approached the one window on the hall that wasn’t dark -- and scurried away from it, quickly.

“*That* . . . is something I don’t think I want to do,” Russell said, feeling the blood drain from his face.

“What’s the matter, Russ?” Ed said. “Not into the idea of being flogged?” He tried to keep a snarky tone in his voice -- but Russell could hear a faint tremble in it.

“At least we know it wasn’t *them*, Russell whispered as they turned another corner.

“Hard to tell, with that leather mask over the woman’s face,” Ed replied.

“That wasn’t Roger,” Russell said, looking around. This hallway had three lit windows. The first revealed two women simultaneously stripping off their bras and throwing them at a man lounging at the foot of the bed. The second, a boy with a blond crewcut and the muscular build of an athlete unbuttoning the shirt of a man who looked nearly three times his age. The third had a woman in a parody of the Amestris military uniform -- top too tight, skirt way too short -- handcuffing a shirtless man to the bed.

Russell suddenly felt relieved that, for the most part, they were witnessing the opening phases of the action. He didn’t know how comfortable he’d feel seeing scene after scene of full-blown sex unfolding before him.

He couldn’t think of this as being the same as what he did with Ed. That was making love. This was just *fucking.*

They peeked around the last corner -- and saw no lights on at all.

“What the hell?” Ed whispered.

“Maybe she’s down on the next floor?” Russell whispered back.

“No way!” Ed whispered. “That’s for the peons! Maybe they just got distracted on the way. We have to go look again . . .”

Russell started down the corridor again -- and stumbled on a nail protruding from the floor that couldn’t be seen very well in dim light. He reached for the wall to steady himself -- and felt it *give*.

“Ed?” he said. “Come here . . . I think I’ve found something.”

Ed came up beside him and pushed on the wall where Russell indicated. It swung inward, revealing another staircase, leading upward.

“Seems the pets have their *own floor,*” Ed said. “I thought it was just an attic up there, but . . .”

“Keeping them separate from the other prostitutes?” Russell whispered. “So nobody knows what goes on up there?”

“Exactly,” Ed replied. “We would never have found that door if you hadn't fallen.” He started up the stairs, Russell following.

At the top, they found another corridor with spy windows like the ones downstairs. They didn’t have to look far to find April -- she was in the first one they came to.

She was also naked and bent over, hands resting on the bed, head thrown back, hair spilling over her shoulders. Behind her, Roger was equally naked, grasping her hips, thrusting as if his life depended on it.

“Guess they decided to skip the champagne,” Ed said.

Russell just watched the scene unfold in front of him. *So this is what it looks like,* he thought. *A man and a woman . . . what all those guys brag about in the tavern . . .*

Something looked *wrong* about the scene, though. The sounds that April was making, the grunts and panting and moans, didn’t seem to be coming from the *heart.* They didn’t sound like the sounds Ed made when they made love.

They sounded like an actress giving a performance.

He looked away from the window -- and saw that Ed had turned away altogether, standing in the corridor with his arms folded, head down.

“Ed?” Russell whispered. “Are you all right?”

Ed looked back at him with a wan smile. “Yeah,” he said, sounding not entirely convincing.

There was a bellow from Roger that sounded like the cry of a wounded moose, then more ragged breathing, and finally, silence.

A rustle of fabric followed, and then, Roger’s voice said, “I’ve got to go, darlin’.”

“Already?” April said. “You just got started!”

“Have to go back to the wife, you know,” he said. “And I’ve got a damn meeting in the morning.”

“Same thing you told me about last time?” she said, coyly.

“Now, you know not to tell anyone about that,” he said. “That is classified information.”

Russell and Ed looked at each other and nodded. They’d hit pay dirt.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied.

There was a sound of a kiss, and then goodnights were exchanged. The two boys turned and headed for the stairs -- they’d seen what they needed to, and more than they’d wanted to.

* * *

Ed rushed to the main light in his room after they came back through the closet, then the bathroom light. Russell followed him.

Once the bathroom door shut behind them, Ed said, “Okay, we *definitely* know that April is collecting information.”

“And the pets have their own floor,” Russell said, “so that nobody can watch the exchange of information except --”

“Other pets, or Madame Marie,” Ed finished. “And tomorrow, I’m going to go into Marie’s office, and find the evidence, and then we can call Mustang and get the hell out of this gold-plated hellhole.” He raked his flesh hand through his hair. “Then I can beat the crap out of him for sending me here in the first place.”

“I don’t think I want any more spy missions like that,” Russell said, quietly.

“It got to you, too, didn’t it?” Ed said, sitting on the edge of the tub and looking up at his lover. “The thing with April . . .”

“She was like . . . a windup doll,” Russell said, leaning against the sink. “It didn’t look . . . *human.*”

“That’s exactly what bugs me about this place, Russ,” Ed said, the fingers of his flesh hand sliding back and forth on the porcelain surface. “They don’t know how valuable *humanity* is. They think you can put a price on it . . . and you *can’t*. I remember when I . . .” He suddenly stopped, and looked away. “Forget it.”

Russell frowned. “Ed . . . what were you about to tell me?”

*Dammit*, Ed thought, *why the hell did I let that slip? I can’t tell him what I was just thinking about!* “It’s nothing,” he said.

Russell knelt beside him, covering his flesh hand with one of his own. “Ed . . . whatever it is, you can *tell* me. That first night we were together, I told you I’d listen and I’d never judge you. I *mean* that.”

Ed just looked at the wall. Could Russell *really* not judge *everything* Ed did? He’d accepted the story about human transmutation, but . . . there was so much *else* . . .

Russell was better off not knowing all of it. Not only might it affect his perception of Ed, it might affect his perception of his whole world. If he knew about the *Gate* . . .

“Really, Russell, it’s *nothing*,” he said, more firmly than before.

“Whatever it is, it’s a memory that pains you. A *lot*.” Russell’s grip became firmer. “Ed, you *can* share the burden with me. You’ll feel better. Whatever it is, it’s safe with me. I told you I won’t judge you -- I *love* you . . .”

Ed’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. Had he really heard what he thought he just did? The way Russell looked away, blushing, told him he had.

He didn’t think he’d ever hear those words -- at least, not from someone besides Al. Quite frankly, in his heart of hearts, he didn’t think he *deserved* to hear them.

But the boy kneeling next to him *had* said them -- in the bathroom of a whorehouse, of all places. *Bet it’s the first time those words have been said here,* Ed thought. And he suddenly realized that there was nobody else on earth he *wanted* to hear them from.

Russell was continuing to stare at the wall, turning crimson, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

Ed reached out with his flesh hand, put it on his lover’s face and turned him around to face him.

“Well,” he said, “nice to know we feel the same way about each other.”

Russell suddenly threw his arms around him -- and knocked him backwards. Ed had to throw his automail hand back to catch them both -- barely -- and keep them from tumbling into the tub.

“What the hell was that!” he shouted, automatically. “You nearly knocked us both over!”

“Excuse me for being affectionate!” Russell shouted.

“Affectionate? You plowed into me like a *bull!*”

“The hell I did! And what about that time you almost knocked *me* off the ladder?”

“You were only one step up it!” Ed retorted -- his automail still bracing them both in place.

Then, suddenly, his expression softened, and he said, “We’re always gonna do this, aren’t we?”

“Guess so.” Russell got off Ed, helping him to stand up.

Ed hugged Russell’s waist, and said, “You’re pretty strong for a guy who spends all his time locked up in a lab.”

“Maybe if you spent more time in a *lab*, you’d do some actual *research,* Russell replied, hugging back.

They walked back to the bedroom, hand in hand, both silently knowing they weren’t going to be discussing Madame Marie’s case again that night. Ed sat down on the bed, propping himself against the headboard, and Russell settled in front of him.

“The thing you were going to tell me about before . . .” Russell said.

Ed had almost forgotten about that until Russell brought it up. Suddenly, the memories were flooding back into his brain, as vivid and painful as the night they had happened. He could see the glowing tubes of red water, Envy standing over him, leering, Lust with her talons poised over Al’s blood seal, prepared to rake them across the rune and kill him . . .

“It was a few weeks after we got back from Xenotime,” he said, quietly. “Do you remember a Dr. Marcoh?”

“I remember Belsio talking about him,” Russell replied, shifting a bit on the bed. “He cured Elisa of her red water sickness when she was a baby.”

“Belsio told us about him, too,” he said. “And when we got back, Al and I decided to find him . . .”

The whole story rolled out of him -- tracking down Marcoh, the confrontation with Scar, the detour to Riesemboul to get repaired, the discovery of the true components of the Philosopher’s Stone . . .

“I knew about that,” Russell said, looking down. “There was a section of our father’s journal -- the one we brought you pages from the day you disappeared -- that was written in a very tough code. When you were gone, Fletcher and I managed to break it, and it said he’d discovered when he was in Central that the Philosopher’s Stone was made from living human beings.” He looked at Ed. “That’s why he wanted to make a fully-powered red stone so badly -- to give the world a Philosopher’s Stone without having to *hurt* anyone.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Ed said, shaking his head. “I know that now.”

He continued on with his tale, telling Russell about how they broke into the Fifth Lab, his encounter with the Slicer Brothers . . . He skipped over the part about Shou Tucker, because Nina was far too painful a thing for him to let out -- at least not yet.

Ed watched Russell’s face as he described the confrontation with the homunculi, how they tried to get him to sacrifice a room full of prisoners to restore Al -- and he just couldn’t do it.

“I knew how precious life was,” he said. “Even those lives that were supposedly useless -- I couldn’t. Not even for Al. And then, they were going to kill him . . .”

Russell moved over so he could hold Ed in his arms, and Ed sagged against him, grateful for the support as he finished the story -- he *had* to now, had to get it all out, like an infection that had been festering at the bottom of his soul for years and was now being opened and drained so healing could begin.

When he finally finished, he sagged against Russell like a rag doll, feeling his lover’s arms tighten around him, feeling drained -- but also, in a way, relieved.

“I would have done the same thing, if I was in your shoes,” Russell said, quietly. “You knew your brother wouldn’t have wanted you to make the sacrifice.”

“If they had killed Al . . . “ Ed said.

“I know.” Russell kissed the top of his head. “But they didn’t. And he’s with us now. He’s whole, and he’s happy, and he’s worried as hell about you. When I saw him this afternoon, he just wouldn’t stop asking me how you were doing, and if they were treating you well.”

Ed looked up. “You better not have told him about the leather corset.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Because if you did, you’d be *sleeping* in that bathtub tonight. And I’d transmute *this*” -- he indicated the lock of hair that always hung over Russell’s eyes -- “into steel wool.”

“Yeah, but I was *good*,” Russell said. “So . . . what do I get?”

Ed gave him a sly smile. “What do you *think*?”

Russell answered him by practically swooping down, kissing him *hard*, his arms tightening around him.

Ed melted against Russell, opening his mouth eagerly to him, almost a symbol of how he’d opened his heart just a few minutes earlier, moaning as the younger boy’s tongue stroked his.

He let his flesh fingertips lightly skim up and down Russell’s ribs, feeling his warmth through layers of fabric. His metal hand tugged at jacket buttons as Russell’s tongue plundered his mouth again and again, and Ed’s stroked and rubbed and caressed it.

When their mouths broke apart, both were panting. Russell unbuttoned Ed’s coat, and Ed stripped it off, letting it fall, before starting to undo his own shirt. He yanked it down his arms, noting with satisfaction that his lover was doing the same.

And then, when they were both stripped to the waist, Russell tugged Ed, encouraging him to sit on the very edge of the bed. He fell on his knees, as if in worship, and kissed Ed’s stomach with utmost tenderness, wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist. Ed reached down, stroking the other boy’s hair, as Russell’s lips touched him again and again, reaching down to unzip his pants.

His hand slid inside, grasping Ed’s length, stroking and stroking, and Ed just leaned back, panting, feeling himself swell and harden and tingle beneath the younger boy’s gentle caresses. Ed reached up to undo his ponytail, feeling his hair spill around his shoulders as Russell pushed his pants down, kissing his erection, flicking his tongue over the tip. He shuddered, letting out a small groan.

“You just love to drive me crazy, don’t you?” he said to the taller boy as Russell stood up, unfastening his own pants.

“I thought it was only fair, after all the times you’ve done that to me,” Russell replied, bending over to unfasten and pull off his shoes, presenting Ed with a lovely view of his upturned, naked ass.

This was a temptation that was too good to pass up. Ed leaned over, pressing his lips against one firm curve, feeling a shudder of heat inside him as Russell groaned in response.

His right hand caressed the firm flesh in front of him, marveling at the shape, how it seemed to be sculpted by an artist who was a stickler for perfection, how the cleft divided it into two even, perfect halves, seeming just right to be held and squeezed.

Russell Tringham was beautiful and sexy and all *his.*

He kissed some more, running his lips over the curve, nibbling a bit, feeling his own body tingle when Russell groaned in response.

Reluctantly, he eased back and stood up, shedding his own shoes, kicking his pants away. He sat on the bed and opened his arms to his lover.

Russell embraced him, and they tumbled to the bed together, moving slightly, just enough to create friction, but mostly just feeling the other boy’s warmth, the texture of his skin -- and, in Russell’s case, metal -- breathing in his scent, just being *close.*

Their lips came together, a soft and gentle caress, brushing and melding and exploring with the utmost tenderness. Pale blond hair blended with a deeper gold as they rolled over on the bed a couple of times, almost playfully vying for dominance.

Finally, they stopped with Ed on his back and Russell above him, kissing his lips as he swirled his fingers over the other boy’s nipples. He reached down and grasped his length as he kissed Ed’s neck, and Ed let out a groan as Russell started to caress, faster and harder than he had before, his fingers fluttering up and down the shaft like a virtuoso playing his instrument.

A hot wetness closed over Ed’s nipple as a warm palm stroked the head of his aching hardness, and Ed threw an arm around Russell’s shoulder, panting, arching upward into his touch because it was so, so good . . . his automail hand gripped the sheets tightly as Russell began a rapid up-and-down movement, fingers finding the drops of dew at the tip and coating his whole erection with it.

“Oh, yes,” Ed panted. “Keep going . . . ohhh . . .”

Russell sucked his nipple hard, pulling back to flick his tongue over it in patterns, teasing the pink, then rapid flutters over the bud, as his hand caressed the root of his lover’s cock before sliding up again.

Ed clung to Russell, letting out one small cry after another, feeling the pleasure mount and mount, thinking he would explode any second . . .

Then, he stiffened, and let out a loud, throaty cry, his body shuddering as pulses of electric heat passed through him, overwhelming him.

When he sank to the bed, he felt Russell kiss him, tenderly, the other boy’s erection pressing against his thigh. . .

Oh, no. That wasn’t going to do. One thing that could always be said about Edward Elric was he gave as good as he got.

Flipping them both over, he moved down to Russell’s legs, running his tongue down a thigh, then his knee, then his calf. When he reached his foot, he licked slowly over the instep, moving to his toes, which he kissed reverently, one at a time.

He leaned back, holding the foot against his chest, rubbing the toes against a nipple, and heard Russell’s surprised gasp -- he was half-sitting up to get a good view of what Ed was doing.

He dropped the foot and moved back up, kissing Russell’s lips hungrily, grasping his erection and starting to stroke it rapidly as his lover had done to him, and he heard Russell groan deeply in his throat, just spurring him on.

Ed let his fingers tease Russell’s balls, cupping the sacs in his palm, then a gentle caress over the surface, then taking the whole thing in his hand again, lightly stroking.

“Oh!” Russell cried. “Just a little more . . . so close . . .”

Ed slid his fingers back up to the shaft, stroking hard, fast, feeling Russell buck in response, hearing his groans, his whimpers, his low murmuring . . .

He caressed his lover *right* where he knew he liked it, just under the head, and that did it. Russell thrust upward wildly, letting out a yell as hot wetness started to coat Ed’s fingers, writhing until he sank to the bed again.

Ed grabbed a tissue quickly to clean himself and Russell off, then moved up, kissing his lips, sweetly.

“I meant it when I said I loved you, you know,” Russell panted.

“Hey, you think I’d accuse you of lying about something like that?” Ed said, nuzzling the other boy’s neck.

“And you?” Russell said, his hand cupping Ed’s face, turning the boy to face him.

“Yeah,” Ed said. “I meant it, too.”

He nestled his head on Russell’s chest, feeling the other boy’s arms wrap around him. “I’m really glad I decided to stay tonight, now,” Russell said.

“You would have stayed one way or the other,” Ed yawned. “If you tried to get away, I would have transmuted that damn leather thing into a lasso and used it to pull you back.”

Russell turned toward him. “You *really* don’t like that corset, do you?”

“Why don’t *you* try wearing it?” Ed said.

There was a moment of silence, and then Russell said, “Okay . . . point.”

Ed kissed him again. “Still . . . you’d probably look cute in it.”

Russell stroked his hair. “When this is over, we’ll find something sexy for *both* of us to wear, okay?”

“You’re on.”

Ed fell asleep, imagining just *how* Russell would look in the leather corset.

* * *

Ed woke up when it was still the middle of the night. He sat up, yawning and stretching -- and his automail arm collided with something with a dull *thunk.*

Leaning over, he saw the *something* was the stand next to his bed where the sex toys were, and that one of them had fallen on the floor.

Grumbling, he bent over to retrieve the dldo. He lifted it up so he could see it in the streetlight coming in from the window. It was a bit slimmer than a real male organ, and rippled, and broad in the base.

“Huh,” he said, quietly. “Weird-looking thing.”

Shifting it to his flesh hand, he could feel its texture -- smooth and firm, just soft enough to give a little when he squeezed it.

The realization of just *what* he was holding hit him, and he dropped it to the sheets with a thud, rushing into the bathroom to wash his hands.

Russell stirred when he heard the sound. “Ed?” he said.

“It’s okay,” his lover called from the bathroom. “Just picked up something I shouldn’t have, that’s all.”

“What’s this?” Russell replied -- and Ed rushed back in, clapping before Russell could have a chance to touch it.

“Eh, just something that was lying around the room,” Ed said, bringing his hands to the thing. Purple lighting danced around it as he sterilized it, as he’d done to the bed.

Once it was clean, Ed flopped down again, picking it up -- but not putting it back on the rack. For some reason, it was fascinating him.

*Looks like something you’d stop up your drain with,* he thought. *What’s so sexy about that?*

Russell sat up, reaching out with his hand, lightly touching the dildo.

“Do you want to . . . try that?” he said.

Ed sat bolt upright. “Try that? Put *that* inside me? Or you?”

“It’s sterile,” Russell said. “You just cleaned it.”

“Hey, what would *you* do if you found something like that? We don’t know where it’s been!” Ed said, quickly -- but he didn’t drop it.

There was a pause, then Russell said, “Well, I just thought it might be worth a try . . .”

Ed whirled around to face him. “You think this thing is sexy?”

Russell flushed bright red. “I didn’t say that!”

“Yeah, *sure* you didn’t say that,” Ed said. “You’ve been looking at this thing like it was a part of *me*!”

“Well, is it so wrong to be *curious*?” Russell said.

“*I’m* not curious!” Ed said.

“Look, just forget it, then!” Russell said, flopping back on the pillows. “It was just an *idea*!”

Ed lay back down himself, and turned over -- and found himself facing the rack the thing came from. He clapped his hands again, leaning over to sterilize the whole thing. *Just because I can’t stand to have them in the room, that’s all,* he thought.

But in the light of the transmutation, he couldn’t help but see the other objects that were there. Dildos of all different shapes and sizes, thin and fat, short and long, flesh-colored and a variety of plastic colors --

And at least one with a small *crank* in the bottom.

Now *that* was odd. He took it from the rack, tentatively, and started to turn the crank, winding it up like a music box. He heard the creak of springs as Russell sat up again.

“What are you . . .” he said.

“Just want to see what this does, that’s all,” Ed said, quickly, finishing the winding. There was a small button on top of the crank, which he pushed -- and the whole toy started to vibrate. Ed dropped it and scurried back on the bed as if he were seeing an insect, the dildo lying there, purring and moving around slowly like a living thing.

Russell just stared at it. “What . . . the . . .”

“Who the hell THINKS of these things?” Ed said, still frozen to the spot, staring at the toy with wide eyes. It rolled across the bed, seemingly of its own accord, and came to rest against his flesh leg.

And then, Ed *felt* it. Felt the vibration, softer than he’d expected, and tingly, and seeming to make his skin *glow* . . .

He let out a small sound of pleasure. In the back of his mind, he was beginning to wonder if it felt so good against his leg, what would it feel like . . .

“Ed?” Russell’s voice said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Ed looked at his lover, and a wicked smile spread over his face. Russell wanted to try these things so badly? Well, he’d try *this* one out on him!

He picked the toy up and started to wind it again as he leaned over, his lips claiming his lover’s hard, deep, his tongue sliding quickly into Russell’s mouth. A thrill ran through Ed’s body as he heard the other boy’s deep groan of satisfaction, felt Russell’s arms envelop him.

Ed broke contact with his lips to run his tongue down Russell’s neck, and the other boy let out a husky, “Ooohhh . . . that’s so good . . .”

“You taste *really* good, Russell,” Ed said breathlessly, before starting to suck on his neck, nibbling at the soft flesh. He finished winding the toy, and dropped it to the bed for now, reaching for Russell’s ass, squeezing it hard.

He let his fingers tease the cleft as he kissed Russell’s shoulder, nibbling at the collarbone, letting his tongue lightly brush the juncture with his neck. Russell moaned, low, hungry sounds that made Ed’s blood run hot.

Gently, he tipped his lover backwards until he was against the pillows, bending over to kiss one nipple, then the other. He reached over for the bottle of lube . . .

His hand hit something hanging from the bedpost. He looked, and saw it was one of the two straps they’d pushed out of the way earlier.

Suddenly, he had a very, very wicked inspiration. He grabbed the strap and looped it around Russell’s left wrist. “What the . . .” Russell said.

“Hey, you’re *mine*,” Ed said, reaching for the twin strap. “I’m not about to let you get away.” He grabbed Russell’s other hand and secured it as well, then reached for the bottle again.

He looked at the sight of Russell, hands bound, his body a pale streak against the crimson of the sheets, hair in disarray, eyes closed, erect nipples standing out against his chest, full erection resting on his stomach, swollen and red and already moist with a few drops of precome . .. .

Oh, yes, he was a *pretty* sight.

Leaning over, he began to lick up and down Russell’s shaft as he poured lube onto his fingers. He brought one to Russell’s entrance, pushing it in slowly as his mouth enveloped Russell’s erection, sucking hard as he felt the younger boy tense around him, then relax.

Ed started a rhythm, pushing his finger in as he slid Russell’s manhood out, then sliding down on the boy’s erection as he pulled out the finger. His lover whimpered in response, and Ed felt a hot thrill run through his own body.

He pulled his finger out and lapped hungrily at the other boy’s cock as he wiped off and relubed the digit. Oh, yes, Russell tasted *good*. Felt good, too, hard and hot and slick from both Ed’s mouth and the dewy droplets that kept forming at the tip.

When he pushed the two fingers in, he felt Russell’s whole body clench again, felt him writhe a little . . . but as Ed resumed his sucking, Russell relaxed. Ed went deep into him, his fingers flicking back and forth rapidly as he devoured the luscious thing in his mouth . . . he had to be careful, he didn’t want to take Russell *too* close to the brink. Coming now would ruin everything.

“Ed,” Russell moaned. “Do it, I’m ready . . .”

Ed slid out his fingers and, reluctantly, moved his mouth away. “You *do* know what you’re going to get, don’t you, Russell?”

“I think so,” Russell panted.

Ed looked at the two toys that were on the bed. He decided it was better to start with the non-motorized one, to open Russell up and make sure he was ready. Picking it up, he coated it liberally with lube (and reminded himself he was going to have to sterilize it again *after* its use), then gently began to push it into his lover’s entrance.

He saw an expression of pain on Russell’s face -- no different from normal penetration, at least not yet -- and moved up to kiss his lips, then his nipples, then his lips again.

“How does it feel?” he said.

“Different,” Russell said. “Not warm like you. A little strange, but . . .” He closed his eyes. “I want to keep going.”

Ed resumed pushing in, going slowly and carefully, keeping an eye on Russell’s face. Gradually, his expression changed, his body relaxed. Tentatively, Ed began to thrust -- and was rewarded by Russell starting to writhe, letting out a low, throaty groan.

“Good,” he moaned. “Oh, Ed, you have to try this . . . it feels so good . . .”

Encouraged, Ed started to thrust a little faster, and Russell gasped, raising his hips to meet every stroke, murmuring softly. Ed switched off hands, moving the toy with the metal one so he could grab his own erection with the flesh one, stroking it as he watched his lover moaning, skin flushed and sweaty, hips rolling along with his thrusts.

Russell was ready for the main event. Ed slipped out the toy, hearing a groan of disappointment from Russell, and coated the vibrating one. This one was very easy to slide inside, since his lover was already stretched, and Russell offered no resistance, thrusting his hips down against it.

Once it was in, Ed pushed the button, the toy began to vibrate and Russell let out a loud cry, so loud Ed would be worried about people coming running if there were anywhere other than a whorehouse.

“AAAAHHH!!” Russell cried. “Oh . . . oh . . . this is . . . AAAAHHHH!!” His hips lifted all the way off the bed, his body writhing wildly, wrists straining at his bindings as he panted, his skin fairly glistening with sweat.

“You’re so beautiful right now,” Ed said, starting to thrust the vibrator in and out. “So very sexy . . .”

“More,” Russell cried, wildly thrusting his hips up and down, and Ed matched what he was doing, pushing the toy in hard and fast, twisting it a bit, moving it here and there . . .

And then, Russell arched so far off the bed Ed thought he was going to break the bonds, and very nearly *screamed*. Ed had connected with his prostate. Ed moved the vibrator back and forth over the same spot, caressing it as Russell cried out again and again . . .

The younger boy stiffened, then shuddered, crying out as he released himself, hot fluid shooting all over his stomach, all the way up to his chest.

Ed moved up and kissed him, hotly, his tongue pushing hard into his lover’s mouth. Russell was trembling, his eyes still closed, his whole body completely limp . . .

“You okay?” Ed said, reaching for tissues to clean Russell off.

Russell opened his eyes, slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s just that it was . . . damn . . ..”

“Guess you liked this thing, then?” he said, teasingly, holding up the vibrating toy.

Russell smiled, slyly. “Get me out of this and I’ll show you.”

Ed would have protested that idea before -- but seeing how Russell had just reacted . . .

“You’re lucky I love you, Russ,” he said, leaning over and undoing the restraints. “I wouldn’t let just anybody do something like this.”

Russell sat up and moved over, pulling Ed into his mouth and kissing him hotly.

“I *am* lucky you love me,” he said, easing his lover down to the bed. “Very lucky.” He reached for the straps and wrapped one around Ed’s automail wrist.

“Careful,” Ed said. “If you break anything, I’ll let *you* tell Winry you broke her masterpiece by tying me up in a whorehouse.” He couldn’t help but feel a small bit of satisfaction at Russell’s pained wince at the thought.

Ed raised his flesh arm, feeling Russell loop the strap around it and pull it just tight enough to be snug, but not enough to cause pain. Before he had a chance to get used to the sensation, the younger boys’ lips were on his again, his fingers on his nipples, and Ed moaned deeply in his throat, warm pleasure stealing through his body.

“Mmmm,” he said. “Go on . . . suck . . .”

Russell lowered his head, and Ed gasped as the hot, wet tongue started to slide back and forth over the sensitive peak, followed by his lips, closing over it and tugging at it hotly.

“Ohhh, yes,” he groaned. “Damn, that’s good . . .”

Russell kissed one nipple, then the other, lavishing each with his tongue as his fingers played in his lover’s navel before slipping down, the flat of his palm sliding over Ed’s lower belly, making him grow more and more excited as it got closer to . . .

When Russell grasped him and started to stroke, Ed’s hands jerked at the restraints, his urge to bring a hand to his mouth thwarted. He’d feel frustrated if Russell’s fingers weren’t doing such damn amazing things, stroking along the shaft with the pads of his fingertips, then ticking the head, spreading around the drops of dew.

Russell didn’t let go of Ed as he moved down and reached for the lube bottle -- not until the last second, when he got the lid flipped open one-handedly. Ed groaned in disappointment as the hand left him, but found himself opening his legs and raising his hips in anticipation of what was coming.

It was a very strange feeling, giving up control, being at the mercy of another -- and *not minding it*. Had it been anyone but Russell, any circumstances but this, Ed would have been yelling, twisting about, doing *anything* to get out of his restraints . . .

But this? Oh, yeah, *this* was hot.

Ed felt a finger push into his entrance, and he caught his breath, anticipating the pain. Damn, but he hated that moment, that sharp stab as his muscles protested the invasion . . . but he gritted his teeth, thinking only of what was going to come after.

Russell’s other hand was back on him, grasping him, stroking up and down rapidly, his fingers circling the base, tickling here and there before moving up again, and Ed let out a moan as the friction went to the very core of him, spreading a luscious pleasure that completely obliterated the pain.

The finger within him was moving in and out, and there was no pain now, just a delicious *fullness* that merged with the sensations coming from his cock, and Ed found himself moving back against the digit, forward into the caressing hand, his head starting to thrash on the pillow.

“Good?” Russell said, his hand and finger both moving faster, sending a fresh wave of *feeling* washing over Ed, making him writhe and moan and forget everything else in the world except the boy pleasuring him.

When he got enough of his senses back, he panted, “No, Russ, I *always* look this way when I’m just sitting around doing nothing. And if you stop now, I’ll kill you.”

Russell pulled out his finger, and Ed was about ready to break the damn restraints and make good on his threat -- when he felt a *second* finger enter him along with the first. He gritted his teeth against the pain again, hands clenching into fists . . . but the pain went away fast, and Ed moaned *loudly* as what was warm pleasure before became a throbbing heat.

“Do it!” he said. “Do it or I may come *now*. . .”

There was a pause, and Ed heard the squish of lube being poured out again . . .

And then, *something* was probing his entrance, cold and odd, a bit softer than Russell, ripply in texture . . .

He wasn’t quite sure if he liked it. In fact, he was almost ready to tell Russell to take it out . . .

Then, it hit a sensitive spot, and he let out a cry, his hips bucking. And as Russell pushed it in further, the pleasure just kept building and building from there.

His body was starting to adjust to the toy, warming it, shifting around it as if to welcome it. And when Russell’s mouth enveloped Ed, sucking him hard as the thing within him moved back and forth, caressing him here and there, seeming to stimulate every damn nerve within his channel . . .

“Fuck, Russell!” Ed cried, arching off the bed, feeling like he was burning up from the very root of his soul. The mouth sucked harder, the toy moved faster, and Ed panted, groaned, let out low, animal sounds, begging Russell without words to *make him come* . . .

The mouth and toy left him, and Ed sagged back to the bed, crashing back to earth, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. The air felt cool on his skin, and he knew he was *bathed* in sweat.

He heard a clicking sound, over and over, and then the squish of the tube . . .

“Ready?” Russell said.

Ed was beyond being able to think of a smart retort or snappy comeback. He just groaned, “Yes.”

There was the feeling of pressure at his entrance again, and then something slid in, bigger and thicker than before, and this time, there was nothing but *pleasure* as Russell pushed it further, Ed’s body open and very, very willing . . .

Russell leaned over and kissed his lips. “Love you,” he whispered.

“Love you, too,” Ed whispered back.

And then, Russell pushed the button in the toy, and it was *vibrating*, hard, sending shockwaves of fiery tingles shooting over every part of him, and he nearly screamed. He didn’t know pleasure this intense could possibly exist.

The toy began to move, and the vibrations seemed to travel from one end of Ed’s ass to the other, running to the very base of his spine and out through his cock . . . damn, Russell wasn’t even *touching* his cock and it felt *amazing* . . . He rocked his hips, wanting *more* of that thing, and *more* still, feeling like it was shaking him apart from the very root of him, and it was the most beautiful sensation in the world.

“I’m . . . I’m gonna . . . “ he gasped.

And *then*, it bumped his sweet spot, and the whole world exploded. He arched all the way off the bed as white heat consumed him, and waves of ecstasy broke over him hard and fast, completely overwhelming him, and just when he thought it was over, it started *again* . . .

When he finally sagged to the bed, he felt like a limp dishrag, exhausted and boneless and completely, totally, utterly satisfied.

Dimly, he was aware of Russell sliding out the toy, unfastening his wrists, cleaning him up -- did he *really* shoot so hard that some of it got on his *face*? -- and then, of his lover’s lips on his. He rolled over, wrapping his arms around Russell and purring contentedly.

“Now you see why I liked it so much?” Russell said.

“Russ,” Ed murmured sleepily, “we *are* taking those home.”

He heard Russell chuckle, felt his lips on his forehead. It just added to the *warm* feeling inside him.

He never, ever thought he’d feel this good again. Not since the horrible moment when he and Al had walked in the door to find their mother on the floor.

Yawning again, he nestled his head against Russell’s chest and fell asleep.

____________

Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix and Studio BONES. No profit is being made from this fanfic.