Hello. This is Lina of the coauthored team of BlackMercifulFaerie. This is my first (but, God willing, by no means my last) FMA fic. Since my friend Nana's vocal chords have appeared to have gone on holiday, I did not get her input for this one-shot, which is just as well, cause she probably wouldn't have approved of it anyway.
It should be known that I have an affinity for EdRoy pairings (though Edvy—as demented and incestuous as that is—has been quickly clawing its way up my list) and that I am in a particularly smutty mood today. However, since I have never written slash before, this will probably turn into some fluffy, gobbledy-gook thing. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, I would be kissing my own feet . . . which would make me very flexible. Maybe then, I could get a boyfriend . . . all the money wouldn't hurt either . . .
I'm sad now cause I'm poor and lonely. Happy?
This shouldn't be so interesting, Edward Elric thought to himself dully.
He and his commanding officer had just completed one of their little impromptu get-togethers—which weren't very 'impromptu', seeing as they occurred post- Ed's return from every one of his missions—and now, the blonde alchemist was lying next to the colonel, gently tracing the anatomic-geographical rises and hollows of Roy's back with his left hand.
The feeling one.
Ed shifted back slightly to look down at his automail arm. The steel muscles and tendons glinted softly in the moonlight that was filtering through the nearby window. Despite the fact that this had been his arm for more than five years now, the sight of the cold, prosthetic . . . alien limb made the alchemist shiver.
His automail was great. There was no denying that. The limbs were faultless as far as mechanics and nerve connections were involved and they were far more powerful and far less fragile than the regular old flesh and bone that the rest of Ed's body was made of. (Besides, even if he had hated them, he would have kept his mouth shut out of fear of a certain blonde-haired mechanic and her Amazonian wrench.)
No. Ed definitely appreciated . . . even loved his automail. But . . .
But . . .
But he just wished that they could feel. Ed would trade the power, stability, and even the stunted bayonet he could alchemically pull from his wrist . . . he would trade all that if he could feel again.
If he could touch Roy's hands and face and body with both hands and know what that felt like. If he could hold the Flame close to him while they slept and not have his lover unconsciously squirm away from the coldness of his steel appendages. If only, just once, he could experience Roy's tender kisses on the palm of his right hand; God what he'd give . . .
If only . . .
Ed sighed as he shifted to wrap his arms around Roy and press his face into the depression between the older man's shoulder blades.
Someday, Edward mused, his golden eyes drifting shut. Someday I'll be able to touch you and feel you . . . like you feel me.
I honestly don't know what this was. Maybe I'm high? –laughs- I'm just kidding, don't call the police!
Anyway, while I was writing this, I thought up another scenario with Ed and Roy. I might put that up here too. Later!