Title: Verloren in den Hölzern.

Rating: T

Pairing: Hohenheim/Ed, mentions of Ed/Al

Warnings: Some after series spoilers... Slash, Father/Son incest, Some adult content and langauge...Read at your own risk

Dedication and Acknowledgements: To Alkali for typing it and Eric for being awesome

Hohenheim's apartment in Munich was small, only a kitchen, living room and bedroom but it had suited his needs up until now. He'd been living alone here and hadn't planned on having many guests, but that changed when his son found his way to this side of the Gate. Edward was lost and alien in this world; ready to grasp onto anything even vaguely familiar. So when Hohenheim offered him a place to stay, he accepted the offer, despite his animosity toward the man.

Edward was currently asleep on the couch, unaware that his father was sitting in the chair beside him, watching as he slept. Hohenheim couldn't help but watch though, he was in absolute awe of how beautiful his son had grown to be. Though the boy had inherited the colour of his hair and eyes from Hohenheim, his facial structure and the softness of his skin were clearly from Trisha. But it was those things that were uniquely Edward's—the sad way he smiled, the slightness of his frame, even the way he mumbled in his sleep— that captivated the man.

Edward had been living here for slightly over a month and each night, unknown to Ed, Hohenheim would watch him like this. Tonight, however, he was not content with just watching.

He reached out his hand and gently stroked his son's face. He stirred slightly, muttering something about Alphonse. Hohenheim smiled. His son's were so loyal to each other, each willing to give up so much for the other. Truly dedicated. He leaned in and placed his lips against the boy's.

He felt so much like Trisha.

Ed huffed and wrinkled his nose in an annoyed sort of way and his father pulled back. He waited patiently for Edward's sleep to settle before reaching out his hand and resting it on his son's slender hip. The boy wriggled and twisted into the touch. Hohenheim let his hand skate lower, brushing against the front of Ed's boxers.

"Alphonse..." Ed gasped in his sleep, unconsciously bucking forward.

Hohenheim considered this event for a moment. Perhaps propensity toward incest also ran in the family. It was little wonder the bond between them was so strong.

There was a thin layer of sweat forming on Ed's forehead. His cheeks were flushed and his breath shallow as Hohenheim slipped a hand past the waistband of Ed's shorts. The stimulation finally reached Ed's consciousness and his eyes shot open.

"What the hell are you doing?" the young blonde screeched, jumping backward and trying to cover himself with a blanket.

Hohenheim said nothing. He was completely lost in Ed's eyes. Gold, such a rare colour, one the boy had inherited from him. But he could never remember his eyes ever being as bright or expressive as Edward's. Despite the boy's hardest attempts, he was never fully successful at hiding his emotions. As in now, in addition to the obvious anger and confusion, his eyes held the slight glaze of arousal. The older man found the sight irresistible. He leaned forward quickly, pinning his son's hands above his head. He roughly captured Ed's lips with his own, taking advantage of the boy's gasp to slide his tongue into his mouth. Edward's lips were soft like Trisha's, but his taste was all his own. It was another one of those things Hohenheim chalked up to how incredible his son was. Ed struggled beneath the older man and managed to pull his lips away. His stomach was turning, for more reasons than one and his heart was racing.

He had accepted the offer to live here because he was depressed and desperate without Alphonse, and though he continuously reminded himself that he hated Hohenheim, he still felt that his father was trustworthy enough to live with for a while.

He couldn't breath. Partly from the weight of the older man on his chest and partly from the mix of shock, repulsion and strange, disgusting, attraction he was feeling. He knew everything about this was wrong. He wondered briefly whether he was being was a hypocrite, feeling so uncomfortable with what his father was doing when he was so obviously and openly in love with his brother. He quickly dismissed the idea. Alphonse was perfect; an angel. He was the most wonderful brother anyone could ever ask for. Hohenheim was anything but perfect. Anything but wonderful. Yet somehow, as Hohenheim began unbuttoning Ed's nightshirt and running his fingers along the sensitive flesh on his son's chest, Edward found himself becoming painfully aroused.

Hohenheim took note of this as well. Slipping his hand past the edge of Ed's boxers again, he loosely wrapped his fingers around his son's length. Ed whimpered.

"Stop, please," he choked out.

"You seemed to be enjoying it," his father said coolly, sliding his fingers up and down Ed's arousal.

"Please," Ed whimpered again, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "You're my father."

"Yet you fantasize about your own little brother." It was a low blow, he knew, but he had no other rationalization. Ed's eyes flared and he attempted to wrench his hands away.

"I admit I'm in love with Alphonse!" he shouted, wriggling as he tried to free himself. "But I'd never do something like this to him. I'd never try to rape my own flesh and blood!"

Hohenheim backed off immediately. He released Ed's wrist and removed himself from Ed's body. He hadn't thought of this as rape. He'd been hoping beyond hope that his son would be willing. Ed's body had certainly responded well to him.

"I wasn't…." the older man trailed off. There was nothing he could say to rationalize what he'd done, especially not to Edward.

"Don't you dare try to lie you're way out of this, you sick bastard." Ed growled low in his throat.

"Is it really so sick to be attracted to the last thing I have of my Trisha? The last reminder of my beloved wife's beauty and perfection?"

"Shut up!" Ed shouted, jumping to his feet. "Don't you ever use my mother as justification for your sick fantasies!" Angry tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"It's not like that Edward, I just..." The older man trailed off again, there was nothing else he could say.

"Sorry doesn't mean anything," Ed spat.

"I know," Hohenheim bowed his head slightly, "If this does count for anything, that was more then just acting out a fantasy or simply losing control. I've been falling in love with you since the day you came to live with me." He took Edward's hand in his own.

"I told you, there's no way you're lying your way out of this." Ed was trembling again.

"It's not a lie, Edward, I know what falling in love is like." Hohenheim took his hand from Ed's and hesitantly reached up to brush a few strands of hair out of his son's face. Ed didn't pull away.

"I'm not Trisha," Ed said coldly.

"I know you're not," he said softly. "You're Edward Nicolas Elric. You may have Trisha's beauty, but your charm and the way you wear that beauty are all your own." Again, with hesitation, he leaned forward and very gently kissed Ed's cheek. His son gave no response.

Edward's heart skipped several beats and was currently trying to settle itself. He wasn't sure if he should be repulsed or flattered.

"I'm already in love with Alphonse," he blurted out, unable to form any other response.

"You and Alphonse don't currently share the same universe. Given this situation, a relationship probably wouldn't be too successful." He said with a slightly teasing smile.

Ed chose to ignore the mocking tone of the statement. "I'm going to get back to him some day," Ed said with conviction. "And when I do, we can finally be together. I promised him we would be, and I'm not going back on that for anyone, especially not you!"

"I'm not asking you to love me, Edward, I know it must be too late for that," the older man whispered in his son's ear. "I'm asking if you could let me love you."

"You abandoned us," Ed said harshly, "You let your wife die, then you show up out of the blue, claiming to have loved her. You take advantage of how lost I am here, then you just plain take advantage of me." Edward was shaking, adrenaline running through his body. "Then you have the nerve to expect me to accept you as a lover, even though you knew I'm in love with Al. You're my father. The father I spent most of my life despising and you just hope I'll have feelings for you." Ed looked him straight in the eye; again he was close to tears. "You walked out on us...I'm supposed to hate you. But...I can't. I can't hate you. I can't pretend I didn't like it when you kissed me, and I can't act like I don't want you to do it again. I think that I could love you, that I could forgive you…and I hate myself for it."

"Edward..." Hohenheim pulled his son into an embrace, tears finally falling from the young blonde's eyes. Tears of anger, confusion, and self-loathing poured out in short sobs as he buried his face in his father's chest. The older man raised his son's chin and pressed their lips together, calming the boy. Edward was the one who pulled away from the kiss, staring at his father with tear-filled, bloodshot eyes.

"I can't do this," Ed said, his voice cracking, "My heart belongs to Alphonse."

His father pulled him closer, stroking his back softly and soothingly. "You have needs Edward. Needs that in you're current situation, Alphonse can't satisfy."

"I don't love him because of what he could do for me," Ed snapped, "My little brother is not a sex toy!"

"I would never suggest that he was," Hohenheim stroked his son's face and ran his finger through his hair. "I'm merely proposing a temporary solution."

Ed took a deep breath. It was hard to believe any of this was actually happening. "This is going way too fast," Ed said, holding his head in his hands, "Just give me some time to think about everything."

"Take as much time as you need, I can wait as long as is necessary."

Ed managed a smile. Tentatively, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the older man's lips. His father smiled back when they pulled away.

Ed's head was swimming. He needed sleep. As Hohenheim released Ed from his arms, the younger male quickly laid back down on the couch. His father stood to leave, but hesitated.

"You know, Edward, you're more than welcome to sleep in the bedroom," he offered. His son looked at him skeptically and the older man smiled. "I promise I'll behave myself."

The sternness in Ed's eyes softened and he sat up, "Fine. But only because I was tired of sleeping on the couch anyway."

Hohenheim smiled brightly as he walked with his son to the bedroom. Tonight, he'd finally be able to sleep with his beautiful, precious Edward in his arms. Though he realized now there were far better ways of going about this, this was still a victory in his personal crusade to mend the broken relationship with his son. It was a small victory, yes. But it was a victory to be savoured.

Please review this...im actualy really proud of my writing on this...but i REALLY need some constructive criticism