A/N: There's not much for me to say. An idea came to my head and I decided to follow it through. shrug. So ermm enjoy...
Warnings: Adult situations, NCS, profanity.
Pairings: Envy x Ed
Disclaimers: Don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.
Prologue: Make Me Bad
Our ritual was always a simple, yet noisy and not fully-understood one.
He'd come to my home upon my family's absence and we'd fuck. It was that simple.
Right there, on the couch, in the wide open space of my parents' immaculate, color-coordinated living room that just so happened to host the front door. Yes, I am talking about the same front door that everyone uses to enter and exit my house, including my parents: the same front door they could walk through at any moment and possibly find me lying on my back with my legs in the air, another guy between my legs, buried to the hilt inside me while I screamed out his name and begged for more; the same front door in which our cat, Mimi's own personal little kitty-door had been installed. The same front door that had betrayed me one too many times by allowing him entrance when it wasn't granted. Yes, that same damned front door. I'd obviously hit a new low if I'd now named the door as my arch-nemesis. Another courtesy of him, I believe.
When we had first begun this insane dance of ours, I had begged him that if he had to do this to me, take away my sense of pride like this, please, let's do it somewhere else. I had been scared, and still was many times.
"Why in the living room? Please, not here…"
He had simply shrugged it off, smirking as he grabbed my arm and forced me to drop to my knees. I'd turned my gaze to the floor, only to have him grab me by the chin, forcing me to look up at him. I didn't want to believe what was happening, but reality was bobbing right in my face (and not to mention scaring the shit out of me).
"This is, and never will be about you, Ed. What you want won't be my concern. Only what I want; it's your job to give it to me," he had said, his voice raw with the power he felt at being able to force me to do the things I'd rather die before doing willingly.
But I couldn't die. I didn't want to die, and that's what had me here living this hell.
I'd always wondered why he wanted it right here, in this part of my house. Why not upstairs in the bedroom, if it had to be here? Why at my place at all? Maybe it turned him on: the whole risk of my family walking in and seeing who they had always assumed to be their strong, moral, outspoken son and brother taking it up the ass like a common whore. But wouldn't he have a lot to lose as well? As much as it scared me, my whole paranoia of the living room and fucking thing had never been about my parents. No, it hadn't. It was never even about possibly traumatizing our cat Mimi. It was always about my brother; my younger brother of only one year…
What would Alphonse think of me? He looked up to me, and though I knew he was understanding and more kind-hearted than I could ever be, knowing this about me would fuck him (and his view of the world) up. He'd start hurting for me, and I didn't want that. This was my burden and I'd bear it alone, fuck you very much.
I had been halfway through my 8th grade year when I first saw him. I needed some extra cash and found myself working a lot of odd jobs involving tutoring; I had always been good with my sciences, including math.
One kid I tutored, her name was Nina, lived quite a way from my own humble abode, so I found myself catching a lot of cabs, missing a good deal of buses, and running very long distances just so I wouldn't miss these appointments with her. She was a sweet kid.
Each day on my way there, there was this guy who would always be sitting right across from me on the bus. He'd stare at me and I, in turn, would stare back. His dark green hair framed a face holding deep stormy grey eyes; a drastic contrast between the pale skin and the color's own depth in addition to the darkness of his hair. He seemed to like dark colors; every time I saw him, he was wearing them.
"Hey, you gotta problem?"
I always had the gift of mouthing off…or the bad habit. All depends on how you look at it. And I mean, the thought is pretty funny, due to the fact that I'm pretty short for my age.
He smirked at me and went back to staring out the window, only looking back up at me again when I got off, a wicked smile crossing his features. That smile threw me off for the rest of the trip to the Tuckers' house, and I found a feeling of foreboding settling in my stomach.
Turns out that the feeling was well-placed.
That night, Nina was killed by her father, who had disappeared without a trace. I had walked in on her anatomy splattered across the living room, and my fingerprints were all over the place as I fought with Mr. Tucker and lost, as you can imagine a scrawny boy of only 13 would to a 35-year-old man. He made his escape and left me there: a perfect set-up.
What had I been thinking? I ran as far from that place as possible and right into him, the weirdo from the bus. I could tell he was a wreck, and this bastard only eyed me in a slight mixture of interest, the glint in his eyes indicating a slight lean towards amusement, or maybe a deranged form of pity.
My own gaze dared him to say something; he seemed to take me up on that. "They'll never believe you if you say it wasn't you. Why would they?" His voice sounded pretty taunting and I had yelled in frustration; who the hell was this guy? What would he know about what I had just seen? It never occurred to me to ask. I was too pissed at his attitude to care about small details like that. Small, heh, right...
"Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? You tell me, fucking genius!"
He had eyed me coolly from his place, leaning against the wall under an awning, only taking his eyes off me to retrieve something from his pocket (which even then I had known to be a blunt), lit it and brought it to his lips casually, as if I wasn't standing here in the pouring rain having a panic attack. "Go home to your family as though you never saw nor heard of this. Act as though all is right. I will deal with it."
I gawked at him. "You think you're God or somethin'? Listen, dip shit, I-"
He cut me off with a cold glare. "Go home. You're pretty much useless." He sneered before continuing, "Consider this a debt you'll repay in the near future," he spat, looking off agitatedly into the distance where sirens could be heard, their lights dimmed by the white sheet formed by the rain hitting the pavement. His eyes narrowed, cool, calculating and cat-like. He was dangerous, and momma always said to leave rattlesnakes where they nap.
So as you can imagine, I would be walking – or running – in the opposite direction. I mean, c'mon now, common sense.
Now I don't know about you, but something about that statement irked me and, in turn, gave me the incentive to run as far (and fast) as possible from him as well. It was pouring outside and my skin pricked up at the cold.
I ran without ever looking back. I did a lot of running that night.
When I had gotten home, I sat upstairs in my room, flinching every time I heard a siren in the distance. My hair was plastered against my face and I knew my eyes were widened in panic; I expected there to be swat teams and men in black crashing through my window and flooding through my door to take me away. I just curled up under my bed sheets and prayed to God that He'd protect Alphonse once they did take me away. It was a messed up night.
The swat teams never came though. When I looked in the paper the week after, they already had a guy convicted of Nina and Mr. Tucker's murder. Ain't that a bitch? I nearly screamed in anguish when I read that article; that girl deserved at least a little bit of justice and the media, nor police dept, could even deliver it properly. Amazingly enough, they never came to even question me, Nina's tutor, who should've been arriving about the time her body was discovered by the 'neighbors'.
I hope I never see Mr. Tucker again. I'd kill him myself. The bastard disappeared without a trace, and I guess that's best for now.
Well, it just so happened that I was entering my freshman year when the weirdo from the bus had become a junior at the same high school. I shrugged it off; this guy had probably forgotten about me by now. No worries, right? I'd walk in high school, make friends with a few solid people, get my work done and live the life of a happy, healthy, straight teenage boy. I'm always wrong about the wrong things. Always.
We had started out small enough. I had thought it would only be once, that I'd repay my supposed debt, just this once, and he'd leave me alone, ignore me in the hallways at school like seniors and juniors normally did. I had been wrong (again).
The first time after he had gotten around to cornering me at school, he told me we'd go to his house and we'd just do this one thing; I would agree to be his for the afternoon, or at least a while. I, at first, thought he had been kidding.
"You're joking', right?"
He placed his hands on either side of my head against the locker and trapped me with his mocking blue gaze, a smirk falling over his lips. His nose was only a few inches from mine and I could feel his breath ghost over my lips. I remained unfazed and continued laughing, only looking dead into his face when I was done. I fixed my expression in a look of indifference.
I felt the blood drain partially from my face as a grin spread across his lips. "I'm sorry but, if I remember correctly, guys usually aren't into other guys. At least, I'm not," I said awkwardly, yet firmly enough for it to be dignified with a response.
He quirked an eyebrow at me. "This isn't about your preferences, kid. It's about mine."
I shoved past his arm and snorted. "Listen, buddy, your mind games aren't my cup of tea, so I'll see ya around."
"Ed-babe," he cooed behind me. "Life is always open for experimentation…"
It just so happens that his words would haunt me throughout the day; I was curious, and that curiosity made me wonder, and wondering made me go seek answers.
So I did go by his house that day, but made it clear that it was only to repay my debt. The embarrassment had been colored all over my features like a kid's own manic creation with a Sharpie permanent marker. He had simply smiled, inviting inside and up to his room where I learned the basics of being with another dude. Wait, scratch that: where I learned the basics of being with Envy.
I learned quickly enough that slow and easy experiences weren't enough to sate Envy's sexual appetite. He rocked rough; that lesson was learned quickly enough. Especially since I didn't mind, it made things all the more satisfying. Envy found that pain made any experience more exhilarating, whether it be someone else's or his own.
It was small things like hand jobs and tongue kisses; stuff I could handle even as a beginner. Just enough to get the other off. Then we moved on to the advanced and more intimidating things, like blow jobs, tonguing and fingering. Never once during those meetings did we mention the Tucker incident. I had no intention of asking him.
All the dirty, hot touching was building up to the entrée that would be my ticket to put this whole mess behind me.
Well, obviously that didn't happen because I'm still here, aren't I?
I'm too messed up by now to tell you anymore. I hate thinking of the circumstances that got me here. I really do, and just maybe, if I ever become strong enough, I'll be able to erase them from my mind and live in an eternal sunshine. Just maybe.
I bit my lip as he guided himself into my waiting body. It hurt like hell; it always would, and there wasn't a thing he even attempted to do if it meant easing my pain, physically and mentally. He never bothered to prepare me; only the first time and a few other occasions when he felt like dragging out my sentence.
The seconds passed slower and slower as each inch of him was pushed inside, and I could feel my whole body screaming, my muscles clenching, trying to keep him out. He grunted as I felt his thickness finally settle deep inside me, and I nearly cried out as he pulled out of me, the pain only increasing as he slowly re-entered. He began to pump in and out of me in long, deep thrusts, moaning lowly as he stroked me from within, each time brushing that cluster of nerves that drove us both crazy.
Envy had become the bane of my existence in these last two months. I didn't feel I owed him this much but was afraid that, if I did and refused, karma would make sure I received my just rewards. Call me stupid, but I believe you can't get anything in this world without giving something of equal value. He seemed to live by the same rule.
I dug my fingers into the mattress below me and thrust up, begging him for more. This was our famous position: he loved to be able to look into my face and make me look up into his, just so I wouldn't forget.
He leered down at me, a sheen of sweat forming over his brow and running down his body. "Who's fucking you, Ed?" he demanded, punctuating the question with a particularly-hard thrust.
"You are," I whimpered out, not sure if I wanted to beg him to stop or plead with him for more …like I always.
"Who the fuck am I, Ed? Who the fuck is fucking you?" he grounded out, one of his hands moving to grip my hip mercilessly while the other fisted itself behind my head and in my hair as he drove himself into me, the sensation of pain intensifying the pleasure.
I felt his hand whip out and strike my cheek, causing my eyes to snap open: a pretty exhausting effort, mind you.
"That doesn't answer my question, Ed…" he hissed, tightening his grip on my hair.
Another sharp tug on my hair, followed by a slap.
"You! Envy, OH GOD, ENVY!" My desperate wail became a dry sob.
By now, he'd already sped up and I could hear my voice wailing throughout the empty house, refusing to let the silence settle. I couldn't, wouldn't deny the fact that it felt good. God would have to strike me down for lying if I said otherwise. Either way, it wouldn't matter though; I was already going to Hell, or at least moving on to the deluxe level for platinum sinners once I did finally die. No one could save me now. No one in their right mind would even try, would they? This was already my hell. The fact that I liked it only proved my point.
"I know you, Ed; you like this. How do you like it?" he rasped out between breaths, his own grunts and moans barely suppressed. He sped up the pace madly, and I was ashamed at the sound of my own voice crying out wantonly.
"Answer me!" he hissed above me.
I felt the control of my response slipping, my grip on awareness breaking. "Harder, please," I whimpered out, my eyes clenching shut as the darkness erupted into multicolor shots.
Each thrust became harder and faster, causing me to arch up underneath him, enough so that it felt as if my spine was about to break in two. I felt him hit my cheek, the sting numbed by the overload of all my other senses. Right now, him fucking me into a coma didn't look too bad. Maybe if he just knocked me out when he did this, I could plead rape; not having to deal with how fully aware of the situation I really was would be a blessing.
"I know you like it hard, Ed, I know," he cackled out insanely, his voice ragged.
This would be so much easier if he didn't talk; if he would just shut the hell up, I could pretend that he didn't exist, make myself numb. But he wouldn't. He knew me too goddamn well.
He took his hand to grasp my throbbing erection and began to pump, causing me to thrash my head from side to side and buck my hips towards the source of my pleasure. I was fooled to believe I heard the door knob jingle a few times and would laugh at my paranoia, if not for the fact that I didn't have enough breath to do so. My body tightened up and I shuddered violently as my climax reached me. I felt myself spill over his hand, which began to pressure the vein running along the side of my shaft. I whimpered at being too spent to feel the full effect of the touch and slumped back against the couch, my body too drained to continue arching into him and allow him to finish me off roughly, and knowing that if I closed my eyes now, he'd strike me, not even having the decency to leave a mark that could serve as enough evidence to have him locked up. He should be locked up.
"Oh God…" The line rattled out as I felt him shake slightly, and his member swelled inside me.
A few seconds later, I felt the familiar, wet warmth of his essence coat my insides and winced at the last few shallow thrusts he drove in before pulling out of me, making a small wet sound as his manhood slipped free. He unhooked my legs, leaving me on the couch to think about fifty ways to kill him and another hundred ways to hide the body.
Without the heat of his body above me, I was cold. It was always that same feeling, no matter how mind-blowing the sex was. It never left enough warmth to last.
I stared up at the ceiling, blinking my eyes closed for a minute, just thinking.
Envy hardly ever bothered with kissing me. I was thankful for that; a kiss would be him showing some kind of affection, making what we had seem a lot deeper than it actually was. At least, with this arrangement, I could be sure he only wanted my body, not my soul. He never took kisses after a bout of sex, only as a payment in exchange for something I may want or need from him, and those kisses were not exactly what I'd call products of love and affection.
I heard his footsteps, signaling his return a few moments later, and blinked my eyes back open to see him clad in a black sleeveless tee and a pair of baggy camouflage-printed pants, his headband back in place. I jumped up and moved to the far corner of the couch, trying to adjust my pants without showing more of me than what was necessary. He glanced at me with mild interest before flopping on the other end of the couch and leaning his head back, a pleased and relaxed look on his face. My pants finally slipped over my pale thighs and I pulled the draw string tightly around my waist.
Where the hell did my hair tie go…?
Finally, I decided to forget about the hair tie and curled up in the corner of the couch, sighing to myself. Today wasn't a day to talk. Surprisingly, he never just left when he was done. We sometimes talked; however hostile our dialogues became at times.
My hair fell in my face and I made little effort to brush it back behind my ear, just blowing at it agitatedly.
He took out his usual substance, rolled it and began to take slow drags as he stared off into my living room, his eyes clouding over with drug-induced contentment before slipping back shut. I took the time to study him, gazing past the parachute and endless flow of green hair. His arms were well-toned, and even though he was a bit lanky compared to his other junior peers, his body showed off a greater deal of power than most of them too. I scowled as one stormed iris appeared from under what was once a closed eyelid and mocked me.
"Like what you see, Eddi-boy?" he taunted.
I looked away, mentally chastising myself. The air was still for quite some time and, without looking back at him, I broke the silence. "You should go," I said, knowing that the silence would carry my voice, no matter how quietly something was said. I gazed down at the floor.
"Are you kicking me out?" he murmured with a tone of amusement, his eyes still closed and his head still back with his infinitely-pleased smirk on as be brought the blunt to his lips slowly.
"If that's what you want to call it, then fuck yeah, I am. My parents will be home soon," I said, my voice coming out cranky and agitated. I was sure he could hear the level of desperation rising in my voice, and I mentally cursed myself for being so careless with checking my tone.
"I'd like to see how you'd manage that," he shot back calmly.
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and crawled to the other end of the couch. I straddled his lap and allowed him to caress my neck and face, knowing that he expected a favor in return for the one he'd be doing me by leaving.
He moved the hand holding the blunt away while he pulled me forward by the waistband of my boxers, and I found my mouth being ravaged, his tongue seeking out every bit of me. He tasted like smoke, but in a somewhat relaxing way. His tongue slipped under mine and wrapped around and over, causing me to gasp slightly. I tried pulling away but he pulled me closer, his tongue plunging deeper into my mouth, and eventually, I did tear away, my lips feeling swollen. The kiss was sloppy and I found myself tracing a finger under my bottom lip as soon as we parted.
He grinned lazily. "You love that, don't you?" he asked, not really searching for an answer.
I looked down, my forehead touching his. "Why do I have to do this?" I said against his lips, my eyes pleading without my permission.
"I saved your life. It's now mine, Ed."
I shook my head, pulling away from him.
"You did something stupid and panicked, making it impossible for you to fix the problems caused by your stupidity, on your own," he stated, berating me with each word.
I felt my temper rise. "You framed another man!" I accused.
"And for what price?" He grinned lopsidedly, taking another drag.
"No man's life should belong to another."
"Not unless they willingly give it up, my naive one."
"That man didn't give up his life for something he didn't do; you took it from him! You'd be no better than a murderer," I said lowly.
"How would you know whether or not he willingly gave himself up, Ed?" he snarled. "You ducked and ran, remember?" he sing-sang mockingly, tilting his head from side to side with each word.
I winced. "You can't hold that against me."
"And you can't hold my own actions against me." His words held finality to them and I shut my mouth, not caring to argue any further. It was useless either way.
"You love what we do, Ed. If you really wanted me gone, I'd be gone by now." He chuckled and I swallowed, noticing (and not for the first time) how low I really was.
I reached down below the couch to pick up my shirt. It sucked knowing he was right.
Once I fitted the red tee over my head, I moved back to the other side of the couch and hang over the edge, face down as I stared past my dangling arm and at the dark teal rug below. I felt the weight shift a bit on the sofa and found Envy against my back, leaning over to suck and nibble on my ear. I tried to turn my head away, but found his arm caressing my neck and shoulder seductively.
"You know what, kid?" he said huskily into my ear, his tongue tracing the outer rim.
I murmured something that sounded like 'I don't know' and flinched as his breath tickled the side of my face from the small chuckle he let out.
"We're both jus' guys lookin' for the right side of life. We're jus' makin' a few bumps together in our road along the way."
I snorted and didn't even bother to move as I felt his hand slide up the back of my shirt. His hand felt rough. No surprise there.
"That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard. How do you make bumps in the road for yourself?"
He ghosted his nose over my cheek and down my neck as if nuzzling me. His tongue flicked out and his teeth nipped lightly at my neck. "That's the mistake people make, Ed. You make your own road. It's not just there like that damn saying implies; it takes skill to get the desired products, so mistakes and flaws are only part of life, you make them yourself," he murmured. "You make it as you go along, babe."
He rocked his hips against me and I squirmed slightly when I felt the small nips turn into deep kisses and occasional sucking here and there. His teeth grazed the base of my neck, leaving only to be replaced by his seeking mouth. I closed my eyes and, once again, tried to squirm away. The hand that had been moving up and down my back suddenly slipped down the back of my pants, sliding down to finger my entrance.
The sucking on my neck grew even hungrier and I whimpered, arching away from him slightly. I could feel him growing hard against me and I swallowed the sick feeling settling in the back of my throat. I was making myself sick. Envy had nothing to do with it.
"Are you ready for me, Ed-babe?" he rasped out between his ministrations.
I gripped onto the arm of the couch, sliding further underneath him as he used his weight to shift me down. "You're disgusting," I choked out pitifully, closing my eyes and bowing my head down.
"That's how you like me." He chuckled, taking a particularly-long and languid lick up the side of my neck. "Don't you get it?" He laughed against my neck, purring insanely.
His finger slipped slowly past the tight ring and I whimpered, giving into my instincts and thrusting back against the nosy and all-too-knowing digits.
I bit my lip to stop the moan forming in my throat from passing my lips; instead of stopping completely, it came out as a whimper, tail-ended by a small cry on my behalf. I buried my face further into the arm of the couch and bucked against him, my breath becoming short.
"We're disgusting, Ed."
I moaned as another finger joined the first upon re-entry.
I let Envy take me for the second time that afternoon, taking in his words and shutting them up deep in the back of my mind.
"Brother, are you okay?" My brother's concerned voice broke me out of my thoughts and I blinked up at him from where I lay on the bed.
I paused in my homework long enough to give him a reassuring smile. "Sure, no worries here, Al," I said and let out a silent sigh of relief as he smiled back at me.
I went back to scribbling away on my scratch paper.
"Ok…it's just that you've been really different these past few months, Ed, I-"
I cut him off with a wave of my hand and rolled on my back so my head could hang upside down off the bed, making me able to look him in the eye from where he sat, cross-legged on the floor. I winced as I did so, forgetting that I was still tender from the activities earlier this afternoon. "Nah, don't worry 'bout it, Al; just a lot of work with mid terms coming up and all. Don't worry 'bout me, 'k?"
He looked skeptical for a moment, and then nodded and sighed. "If you say so, Ed."
I flipped back up over the bed and landed on the other side, grinning manically. "Thanks man, I'mma go take a shower now."
My brother shook his head. "One of these days, you'll be sorry when the springs just give in and you'll land on your head instead of your feet."
I threw a pillow at him before waving casually. "You wish!" I then ran out the room and snickered at the sound of a pillow hitting the door.
I sighed as I shuffled to the bathroom, feeling a need for yet another shower; I felt a bit dirtier than usual. Envy seemed to have a deep-seeded need to slobber over me more than usual, seeking out every part of my body, leaving me…exposed. It was a shameful feeling, and as I stood under the stinging hot water for the third time that day, a thought came to me.
I was weak.
This developing sexually-submissive behavior was becoming a growing weakness. I succumbed to the twisted desire crippling me and took myself in my hand, the water only making the experience more electrifying.
Author's Note: Writing that jus kinda came to me. I was bored and so…….BEHOLD! Alas as you see I have come through and edited the story a bit. Not too much though except you'll notice the absence of lyrics. A reviewer (thakyou!) pointed out new policy (lyric free) a while ago and... well trying to keep track of the content (gotta keep those lemon scenes toned)AND lyrics is just too much(i'd practically be asking for people to personally escort me from the site and my home). All I can kinda do is recommend what I liked best with the chapter.
Beta Blanc Automne for all the corrections and stuff.
'Make me Bad' - Korn
'Paper Cut' - Linkin Park