Written for 24hour-themes community on livejournal, and with the assumption of post-Movie events. Ownership of Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me.
The clock on the wall read the third hour of the early morning when his brother first came to him. And at that first time, he wondered if it was right. And he wondered if it was right to be wrapped up in him. Wondered if it was right to trail metallic fingers against slick skin. Wondered if it was right to be pressed deep inside him.
He awoke the next morning, entangled with Al, and doubt clouded his mind. He worried that he had hurt him. Worried that he had confused him. Worried that somewhere along the journey of their lives, he had fucked up Al (oh, he had really fucked him up well, and yet Al always forgave him).
He avoided his brother the entire day, and pretended not to see the needy glances, and pretended not to feel the desperate touches.
That night, Al came to him again, and came for him again. But he tried to stop it. He tried not to touch him. He tried not to kiss him. And when he found himself buried deep inside that wonderful heat, he tried so hard not to let it stop.
It happened again the next night. And the night after. And the night after. Al whispered to him then, in his ear as he cried.
"It's alright, brother… I love you."
He had never come as hard in his life as he did that night.
After that, he didn't let himself wallow in guilt. He finally let himself fall into the arms that were open to him every night. He finally grew accustomed to the way his brother felt beneath him. He finally let what happen what should have happened long before. He should've known it would happen.
Now, he never holds back. He never lets go. He will never stop, and never stop, because it's just so right (even if it's wrong).