Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Misuse of Alchemy Series ❯ 10: Misuse of Textile Transmutation ( Chapter 9 )

The Misuse of Alchemy series

a Full Metal Alchemist based collection of (erotic) oneshots involving the misuse and abuse of alchemy.

Because sex is better with an alchemist!

by Masamune Reforged

Masamuneehs@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters. If I did, you'd bet there'd be more porn of it.

Warnings: Yaoi (just a little explicit this time), angst, one-sided love, cross-dressing, incestuous undertones

Beta: ZaKai

 

Author's Note: Al is 17. Takes place before Misuse 07 (but, as always, you don't need to read any of these in any particular order)

 

Misuse of Alchemy 10

Misuse of Textile Transmutation

Roy x Al (mentions of previous Roy/Ed)

 

Roy Mustang set the nearly empty glass on the nightstand next to the hotel bed. He leaned back and shut his eyes, keeping down a yawn. The alcohol was starting to wash away the week's worth of weariness, but it was also making him sleepy. So many things like that in his life, too many things like that, things that cut both ways. And he waited.

 

Roy was not a man accustomed to waiting, not for things like this... Fighting the dull grogginess, Roy opened his eyes and began looking around the well furnished room, trying to find something to hold his attention and prevent him from nodding off.

 

He didn't have to search long. The light in the bathroom turned off with a click, and the door opened just as Roy's eyes rested on it. Roy's guest shut the door and took a few steps into the bedroom. Roy sat up.

 

Long white stockings came up well past the knees, stopping inches before the edge of the frilly, black skirt. Just the tiny patch of bare skin in between was enough to make Roy's throat suddenly dry. The skirt was hardly anything, ruffled silk clinging tightly to the supple body beneath it. Black gloves came up just to the elbows, and snowy frills adorned the shoulders of the tight, black shirt. Naked white skin peaked out of the heart shaped pattern cut into the center of the surprisingly muscular abdomen. Diamond earrings framed a face with prudent dabs of make-up. The sandy brown hair was tied back in a simple ponytail.

 

Roy wasn't sleepy anymore. The alcohol that had been lulling him to sleep now gave him a shot of lustful energy. He flashed a hungry smile.

 

“It's too small, isn't it?” Alphonse Elric whimpered, fidgeting uncomfortably under Roy's stare.

 

Roy didn't wince at the girlish mousiness, the dainty voice, the effeminate body language. It didn't matter any more how much of it was feigned, how much genuine. Al's sharp eyes were watching him with cat-like intent. Roy had a part to play if he was going to get what he oh so hungrily wanted.

 

“It looks perfect on you,” Roy lied smoothly. Even with the frills masking the difference, the shoulders were too small for Al's body. The skirt was just a little too small, too, and it stuck out awkwardly where Al's erection was crammed into the red panties.

 

Al's cock was always hard whenever he dressed in drag.

 

Al brightened and stammered a little, but didn't protest. He ate up the praise with a coy smile that was becoming a veteran tool in his arsenal. How long since it had been fully heartfelt, that content smile? Al didn't say anything, and Roy knew the young man wanted him to offer up some more sweet words before he started drilling into the alchemist's body.

 

“Really. It looks very sexy on you,” Roy said easily. That much was the truth. Alphonse was fire in a bottle, and the outfit was thrillingly outlandish. Alphonse's smile widened, sheepish but genuine now. He ran his gloved hands over his own body, and Roy knew the young man was getting off on feeling the women's clothing tightly wrapping around his skin.

 

“You look perfect,” Roy lied again.

 

Al wasn't perfect.

 

“You're just saying that.” Al knew he wasn't perfect.

 

Perfect was a few inches shorter.

 

Roy smiled. The game was never easy, but at least with Al it was consistent. “Fine,” he admitted. “I am just saying that.” Al gave an indignant huff to keep up appearances. “But only because you're so goddamn sexy that I'd say anything to get my hands on you right now.”

 

Perfect had pure, shimmering blond hair.

 

Al smiled. The game was always easy, but at least with Mustang it was rewarding. “Really?” he asked. “Then tell me...” Al began walking slowly over to the bed. “What makes you think I'd want your hands on me?”

 

Perfect had a body marred with scars and machinery.

 

“Oh, I think you want it.” Roy played it cool.

 

“I think you might be right.” Al stopped a step from Mustang.

 

Perfect wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt and stockings.

 

Al leaned down and kissed Mustang teasingly.

 

Perfect would kill him if he saw him right now.

 

Roy growled. He made it sound like a sexy, frustrated growl of longing, but it was an angry snarl directed at himself. He had to stop thinking about Ed when he was with Alphonse. It just made it that much harder to enjoy himself. And it was wrong against Alphonse, too. But Roy never could. He reached out and grabbed the glass on the nightstand, emptying it.

 

Al seemed to sense that something was wrong, but he just stood there. He wouldn't say anything, wouldn't ask. He didn't need to. Al knew.

 

Roy swallowed heavily and put the glass down. He caressed the young man's side, working his way slowly up to his chest. The material from the costume felt smooth and cool. Al leaned into the touch, mindless enjoyment covering up the concern and swirling thoughts, but only for now. Roy pulled Al toward him, but the young man held back.

 

“You are sexy,” Roy whispered.

 

Al leaned in teasingly to Roy's touch, kneeling onto the bed. The fresh scent of his shampoo was intoxicating. “How sexy am I?” Al demanded.

 

Roy shut his eyes for a moment and said, “So sexy, you melt the fangs of every white tiger in Xing into fluffy little cucumbers.” It was stupid. It was a grossly over-indulgent lie. But this was just a game.

 

Al giggled, ran a gloved hand through the slight hair dusting Roy's chest. “Just from looking at me?” he asked.

 

“No, no.” Roy shook his head seriously. “Their eyes popped out of their head and went to Creta to collect flowers for you when they heard about how sexy you are.” Roy smirked, unable to hold back his mirth. It was OK to lie when you were only playing.

 

Al chuckled. Looking into Roy's dark eyes, he shifted his hips and lowered himself down to graze over Roy's sex. The man took a sharp breath and arched his hips, but Al sat back quickly, and Roy thrust up into nothing but bed sheets. Al grinned down at him, close now. “Tell me, Roy Mustang,” Al said, words dripping seduction. “What kind of girl comes to a strange man's hotel room and makes him worship her with ridiculously silly words of praise?”

 

“The sexiest girl in all of the history of everything?” Roy tried. Really, this kind of game wasn't beneath him, but he didn't like doing it much. He wasn't very practiced at giving compliments. He didn't need to be.

 

Alphonse laughed a hollow, empty laugh, leaning forward and brushing his ass over Mustang's erection, eliciting a moan. Al slowly moved his hips, wriggling until he was completely lying on top of the man, faces just inches apart. He enjoyed the way the man struggled beneath him, body desperate to make contact with his own. Al could smell the oaken decay of whiskey.

 

“Do you think a girl like that is going to be a good girl?” Al asked. It surprised him how forlorn those words sounded.

 

Mustang didn't say anything for a moment.

 

“I don't want a good girl.” The answer was wooden and stiff. The humor had evaporated and the patience had dried up. There was only thinly lubed desire and stony honesty. Mustang tried to kiss him, and Al let him. Ql suddenly felt cold

 

Al broke the kiss quickly, pushing the dark thoughts away.

 

“Tonight's your lucky night then,” Al said through a forced smile.

 

“Yours too.” Mustang pulled him back in, kissing him deeper this time.

 

This wasn't what he wanted. He would have it, and he'd be hungry for more even before the night was finished, but this wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't what either of them wanted. They could never both have that.

 

Mustang's hand pushed at the hem of the skirt, snatching at Al's semi-hard sex. The other snaked into the heart shaped gap in his shirt, grabbing and flattening the nub of his left nipple. Al moaned and when his lips met Mustang's again, the hesitation was gone, along with the want. Al no longer wanted that other thing. Instead he filled himself with what was here, in front of him.

 

Mustang's sex stuck into his stomach, and the man's hands stroked Al's body.

 

This wasn't so bad.

 

“You're beautiful,” Roy told him.

 

But it wasn't perfect.

 

Roy frowned. The game was never easy, but at least with Al it was consistent. Al had a consistent set of impossible demands for Roy to halfheartedly attempt at fulfilling. A modest supply of top-grade fabrics. Never-ending praise. Expensive hotel rooms. A rough, demanding style of sex. The last was easy. It was easy to be rough with someone when you had as much guilt to misplace as Roy did. At least Roy found it easy, that part.

 

They embraced, neither looking at the other.

 

Al frowned. The game was always easy, but at least with Mustang it was rewarding. Mustang had a range of whims so menial that Al could completely lose himself in neglecting them. A pedigree demand for easy conversation. Limited criticism. Cheap commitment. A frail, submissive style of sex. The last was easy. It was easy to give yourself completely to someone when you had as little hope of truly being loved as Al did. At least Al found it easy, that last part.

 

This wasn't so bad.

 

“You're so beautiful,” Roy told Al.

 

But it wasn't perfect.

 

Al stood up suddenly, making Roy's eyes flash open in confusion. But when he saw that Al was just kicking off his shoes, the look vanished. Mustang turned and reached over to the lamp on the nightstand.

 

Keep it a game.

 

“No,” Al cut him off, putting a hand on his arm. “Leave it on.”

 

Best to just keep it a game.

 

- | - | - | - | - | -

 

 

Roy was still asleep. The man snored lightly and slept deep. He would probably sleep well past noon. They hadn't gotten to bed until hours past midnight.

 

But Al wasn't tired.

 

He turned the light on in the bathroom, shutting the door quickly so that it wouldn't disturb Roy. Al squinted at the sudden light, blinking heavily and quickly. His own image blinked back at him out of the elaborate, silver gilded mirror above the sink. Al took a step forward and examined his reflection.

 

Slight streaks from the make-up blurred his cheeks and below his eyes. His sandy brown hair was loose, catching in sweat dried patches down and past his shoulders. Tiny bites and bruises, some older than others, dotted the pearly white flesh of his neck. They'd been protested, more from revulsion at the sight of them than discomfort at receiving them. But Roy never listened when Al said not to bite.

 

“You're so beautiful.”

 

Al turned away from his reflection. He sighed and stared down at the black and white clothing crumpled in his hands. He knelt down on the floor and began smoothing out the wrinkles with his hands, frowning at how the fabric never seemed to fully restore itself to its original form.

 

He found it on the right side of the shirt, in the armpit, a small tear in the black silk. Al sighed and fingered the tear, stretching it slightly. He knew he could just sew it up... but he didn't have the thread with him here.

 

Al considered throwing it away. After all, it was too small, and he had wanted to make a new outfit for some time. He also felt that Mustang was getting bored of seeing him in this one, though he'd only worn it three times. It was too small and it wrinkled too easily. The design was well done, but it hadn't been what Al had envisioned when he'd started on it.

 

It was far from perfect.

 

Al fingered the tear, and it grew.

 

But... no...

 

He wanted to keep this one.

 

Setting the costume down on the floor, Al clapped his hands together, resting them onto the fake heart cut into the thin material. The light from the transmutation flashed brightly, but quickly.

 

Al looked down at what he now held. He'd decided to change the design just a little bit, just the thickness of the white lace. The wrinkles were gone, and the tear had been mended.

 

Carefully, Al folded it and set it down.

 

It looked brand new, and beautiful.

 

But it was a slight bit smaller than it had been before.

 

-end Misuse of Textile Transmutation

Misuse of Alchemy 10

 

Note: Angst, fucking, city. God, it's almost too much, even for me... I dunno, but once I got going, I just had to go all out. Really interested in what people might have to say about this one.