WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS RAPE
So, I'm trying quite a few new things with my writing style. That said, some of this chapter might be a bit unusal, nonsensical, and/or weird. Or it might be amazingly kickass. I dunno. It's as much your call as it is mine haha Anyway, please do keep that in mind as you read, that I am trying some new things and whatnot. Also, I would like to say that I find the beginning of this a bit...eh, passive? shaky? something like that.
Anyway, enjoy? Yeah, enjoy! :D
Sorry if it's total crap or "not up to standards" or whatever - I was get antsy to update haha
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS RAPE (not roleplay)
How many times had he gazed upon that bare chest and stopped himself, heart searing in the flames of desire? How many times had he touched that small hip and gone no farther? How many damn times had he restrained himself from relishing in the great sin of primal dominance? How many fucking times?
His black eyes flickered to the bed, the occupant peaceful in his sleep: chest slowly rising and falling, fingers occasionally twitching against the bedsheets, faced framed in fallen strands of gold.
He licked his lips.
A single bead of water trickled down his bare back as he ran his fingers through his hair, sending a shiver to race along his spine as the cool droplet teased his hot flesh. Like on some wild journey challenged with time, the small bead trailed down, down, down, following every subtle curve of his frame; it then disappeared, swallowed by the thick cotton that surrounded his hips.
With a soft sigh, he tore the towel from his body and tossed it carelessly on the carpet. Shame, the droplet would not be joining the sweat and the blood.
Blood. Oh, there would be plenty of that, not a drop spilled from his own veins. The sweet blood of an innocent, someone pristine and untouched, would paint the air with wickedness and the stench of metallic malevolence.
He took a step forward, a smirk falling on his lips; too easily would he be victorious, triumphant in his trials. Another step brought him closer, and he soon found himself at the very edge of the bed. Further in time, a minute built and fallen, he crawled in, hugging the small body beside him; a back arched arched against him at the innocent embrace, accompanied by a deep groan.
As he shifted closer, the boy's soft clothes rubbed against his flaccid length, and he bit back pleasure in the simplicity of the connection. He could feel himself yearning to come into a new life, twitching softly as he touched smooth fabric once more.
Minutes crawled by, time spent in subtle amazement at the overwhelming sensation of the blond's pajama pants against him as he slowly rocked his hips. Too much time was falling to waste, he realized.
His left hand gently grasped a hip, yet he froze, his lips barely upon the fine down of Edward's neck.
Edward loved him. Could he really hurt him so? Could he really strip the teen of trust and love?
Questions tossed his mind like a raging storm in the ocean, violent waves crashing down on a small boat as lightening licked the sky. The scene was dark and cold, just like the damn thoughts in his head. Then the black skies parted and the sea calmed, the answer shining on a glass surface of blue.
Yes, he could hurt Edward, because he didn't love him.
A wicked smile crossed his lips as he pressed them hard against the blond's neck, his hand trailing under the soft fabric at his small, effeminate hips. As his lips mercilessly attacked the back of the slender neck, his fingers journeyed forward until coarse hair interrupted the smooth expanse of warm flesh; he played in the wiry hair, twisting his fingertips in the mess of blond, rousing the boy from his sleep.
"Roy, w-what are you doing?" he groaned, wrapping his fingers around the invading hand.
He didn't answer, as actions and words could not be placed so evenly on a scale. He grabbed the lifeless length of the boy, flicking his wrist for quick, vigorous strokes. His wet lips stayed wrapped around sweet flesh, like the purest honey.
The raven-haired man smirked at the simple passing of letters, darting his tongue in and out of the blond's ear. As he pumped and fondled the boy, he felt the long length stiffen and twitch in his hand, setting his grin to split farther apart.
It wasn't uncommon to be awakened by the other with soft kisses and strokes of intimacy, and part of the reason why Roy shared his bed with the kid was in the hopes that he would wake up with a mouth greedily taking in his cock. His dear Edward was far from innocent in such ways, and now was no exception.
He felt Edward's hips buck forward into his palm, followed by a sharp grunt of want. Horny, little bastard—always wanting yet never willing to entirely give.
Nibbling on the blond's ear, he quickened his strokes, the cock hot and hard in his hand. As pleasure voiced itself, he wanted to laugh at how unknowing and unsuspecting Edward was, how naively the teen thought it was nothing more than a bit of midnight fun.
"Are you close?" Roy whispered huskily.
Roy smirked as he covered the wet head with his palm, flicking his wrist several times and catching the hitched moans in his ears. Edward's hips thrust forward against his hand, an echoing cry of pleasure tearing from his parted lips as a sticky substance tore from the his length to fill Roy's palm. The raven-haired man let every ounce of the white sin paint his hand, and when he removed it from the confines of the blond's pants, he rubbed it on his own cock, hissing at how sensitive the area had become.
"What are you doing?" Ed asked, a quiver in his voice as pleasure continued to rock him.
A dark smile spread over his face, even darker thoughts looming in his mind. His body ached, need and lust extended with abuse for too long; he rocked his hips against Ed's hind, let him feel how hard and needing he was.
"Can you feel it?" Roy asked lowly, his breath barely controlled. "Can you feel how hot I am?" He pushed his hips forward, one hard and rough jerk that would have placed him deep in the blond. Stupid fucking clothes.
He took hold of the elastic band on Ed's pants, tore them down with a solid flick of his wrist. Soft, sandy skin, perfect in every way. Just a few more seconds of waiting, a few more seconds of savoring. Touching, gently. Explorative strokes along satin flesh. Wondering what the blond was thinking with every sticky stroke.
He explored a bare thigh, the muscles under relaxed, then moved upward along Edward's side until he came upon a bony shoulder. Moving to the center, he trailed his finger down subtle dips and rises of his spine, stopping momentarily at the base where a small crevice lay. He tapped against the spot, felt the blond shake softly in response, saw muscles suddenly twitch and tense in his thigh.
"I've been good to you, haven't I?" he asked in a hollow whisper, tapping his finger against the engraved flesh once more. Slowly, he moved his finger deeper in the crevice, a gentle tightness wrapping around the tip; he would have gone farther—fuck, so much farther—yet his dear, dear Edward would not so easily succumb to such touches as a hand latched tightly around his wrist to pull him away from his goal.
"No, Roy, I already told you I don't want to be touched there," the blond said, voice lined with obvious agitation.
A low laugh rumbled in his throat as he tore his hand from Edward's grasp, swiftly turning the tables and snatching a bony wrist. He squeezed it tightly, twisted it awkwardly until he heard the blond whimper, some bigger, deeper, more pathetic sound suppressed behind a clenched jaw. With a single, uncaring jerk, he wrenched Ed's arm upward against his bare back. Heard the pop of bone.
"It's been so long," he whispered harshly, letting go of a hot breath as his cock twitched and throbbed for attention.
"Roy, let me go."
"Not when I've come this far. Not when I'm this fucking close." He ran his tongue along the back of the blond's neck, the faint flavor of salt falling upon his taste buds. It would be so easy to plunge himself deep inside the bastard, feel him squirm and hear him beg, but no, not just yet.
Excitement rose to a fucking heavy boil, scorching every sense of compassion and reason within him. Searing the collar on his leash, burning straight through. Animalistic pride took over, tearing apart the last pieces of doubt and concern as he licked and bit at exposed flesh.
Edward, his sweet and precious Edward, tensed and tried to curl into himself, tried to defend himself with weak ramblings spewed from trembling lips. A rabbit squirming as the wet drip of saliva fell upon its pretty white coat. The wolf was hungry—too many days of abusing desire, too many days of burning starvation.
"Please, Roy, don't do this to me!"
Play dead, little bunny. Play dead.
But his teeth are already in me.
"You're delicious," the raven-haired man murmured softly, flicking his tongue over abused flesh. Stupid, stupid Edward tried to jerk himself out of his grasp, groaning deeply.
No, little bunny, no.
Roy sunk his teeth deep in the blond's neck until he tasted copper on his tongue, pushing the captured arm farther up on an arching back of prickling honey. A warning.
He's tearing me apart.
Oh, little bunny, don't be so daft.
"R-Roy," the blond said raggedly, eyes screwing shut and teeth clasping tight against each other as pain exploded at every nerve.
Ripping me open.
Just give in, little bunny.
Deeper and deeper. Wet rubies on his tongue, filling his mouth. Smelted metal in his nostrils, traveling to his lungs. Breathing in. Breathing in. Another's pain vibrating against his soul. Intoxication seizing, taking control.
You can't run from the wolf, little bunny.
Roy smirked as he pulled his mouth away at the youth's diminished plea, licking the blood from his lips. Small clouds of delight had befallen his taste buds. Bitter crimson and sharp salt, mixing together on his tongue. Intertwining seamlessly. A small taste of his masterpiece.
His eyes, glazed and pounding from the delightful rush, settled on his artwork. It was trying to hide from him, trying to tuck itself behind a protective curtain of intrusive blond. He brushed it aside with ease, his mouth splitting open as he saw it in its entirety. An immense pride crashed onto him, struck him with awe. Oh, the way the red trickled down into perfect strands of gold, ruining it.
His eyes robbed him of every sense. Ears fell deaf, useless. Mouth and tongue numbed, only a hint of a strange taste flitting in the moist cavern. The nerves snaking in his flesh dimmed away, iced over. Every scent—pleasant and nasuating—faded to a hollow nothingness. His eyes robbed him. But that was okay, for the scene before him was brilliant, beautiful, and unique in every way.
He sucked in a deep breath, realizing he had dumbly gone too long without the precious intake. Slowly, his body began to gain a distant touch of ache. Too much neglect.
He was torn. A part of him wanted to watch the small buds of water-roses ease out from the darkness of the blond's body; he wanted to watch how it trickled down his neck and seeped into pretty blond hair until not another drop set itself free. The other part of him, with its edges frayed and uneven, wanted to ravage the trembling body, claim it entirely. That other part of him wanted to smell something darker than blood, wanted to feel screams touch his flesh, fucking wanted to gasp and moan—fuck, laugh—at sobs and tears and damn pathetic pleas.
But, he was torn. He wanted all of both worlds, but could he wait long enough to admire the art he had before creating more?
Waters to be tested.
A rumbling, bestial groan birthed in his throat as he commenced in the sudden movement of a precise and swift maneuver. Hand tight around a thin wrist, he pushed forward, easily forcing the blond to lay on his front as he rose behind him on his knees.
Briefly, he wondered where all protest from the small man had gone; Edward was oddly silent, strangely still, boarding absolute compliance. Hardly a second after the thought, he shrugged, deciding that it was simply in his favor and best not to question.
He leaned his body forward, barely able to contain the moan that fought against the walls of his mouth as he touched hot, pulsing skin. The world he was in was already beginning to crumble, the second world creeping upon it to take its place.
No, no, no. A little bit more. Just
He hissed as he fought against every nagging urge of pleading, savage, desperate lust, tossing the blond's arm out of his grasp as mild frustration caught him. He just wanted to savor the moment, admire it to remember every part, but his body was aching, burning, to be used. His body was becoming desper—
"Just let me go," the blond said quietly.
Roy was slightly startled by the soft mew. The little alchemist had a voice? A la-de-fucking-da voice?
He'd completely forgotten.
No, he had imagined it. Edward had no voice. None at all. At least, nothing stretched beyond primitive grunts of disdain and discomfort.
But there it was again, like the ever-illusive whisper through the wind.
"Just let me go."
What to say? What to say?
"You don't understand, Edward," he began in a low voice, a dark laugh ghosting in and out of his words. "I've been good to you, gave you everything you wanted, but you never once gave me anything I wanted. I've shared my home, my food, my bed, my life with you and you've given me nothing in return. And I've decided that you won't just give me what I want—I'm going to have to take it instead."
"No, I'm not ready!" the blond cried out as Roy pressed his hot, hard erection against twitching flesh. Little bastard wasn't so quiet anymore. "Please, wait, I'm not ready!"
"Oh, just shut the fuck up. I'm done waiting on you."
The moment the words left his lips he thrust No! his hips forward, his cock suffocating in the intense heat and tightness of the blond's insides as a scream filled the air. Delightful.
"Ah, fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his hot breath Stop! brushing the fine Ro-! Ah! down of platinum. A smile spread on his face Please, stop! as his entire body yelled with Someone help me! honest words of gratitude, giving God, fuck! voice with loud moans and N-no—Stop it! grunts that clashed with the agonized, sobbing cries of the blond.
I'm going to die! Please!
His smile widened with every thrust and a laugh flooded into the air as he greedily captured every sound the bastard made. His dreams were suddenly found in reality. No more green clouds and blue grass. No more grinning cats or singing stars. No more dreams! Reality! It was happening. Everything! Darker than blood, heavy screams!
Blood and screams blood and screams blood and fucking screams!
He laughed as bright red entranced his gaze, seduced it entirely. There it was—God, so beautiful!—trickling down ivory legs, staining perfect pallid flesh.
With unsteady hands, he touched the warm wetness.
Pretty, pretty paint. Just the color he needed.
A deep groan, laced with a high reptilian hiss, bellowed in his throat as he forced himself deeper in the blond, his soiled hands gripping sweaty thighs and hips, coloring them red. He dimly noted the decline in noise and fight, how silent and limp the young alchemist was. Too much to handle, it seemed. Another laugh joined with the air at this realization as he tossed his head back, beads of sweat tearing loose from his brow.
The laugh died away, short gasps and pants seizing his voice. The tightness around his length was no longer so smothering, yet the heat had tripled with the arrival of crimson that enveloped him. He dove deeper into the puddle, wetting his cock to the base and producing a strange squelching sound.
Faster, deeper, harder—fuck!
A shudder escaped his parted lips as a shock ran along his spine, his stomach pulling together in an insane knot.
His masterpiece was coming to a finish, the grand-opening of his art exhibit ebbing closer and closer.
His eyes closed as he gritted his teeth, his fingernails digging into lax muscles.
Thrusting inside the unconscious blond, skin slaping skin, he urged his body to a close. He'd waited so long for that damn end, that explosion of heat and pleasure, the final stroke on the canvas. His signature.
With an unrestrained moan, he let himself go, his seed escaping his body to join with the blond's, weaving with worming wine. Boiling waves of pleasure crashed onto his being, yet he continued to rock his hips, persuading every ounce of sin to leave him, to fill the young man instead.
Spent, exhausted, body trembling, he slowly eased himself out of the small body as his length went limp, empty; he lowered Edward to lay fully on the bed, but he kept everything in view. Breathing heavily, he examined his work, finding it all to be in the highest degree of satisfaction.
Blood—some dark and dry, some bright and fresh—grazed the youth's wan flesh as thick clumps of white oozed from the darker confines of the small body, sliding down to his stretched scrotum.
His masterpiece was complete.
With his breathing steady and pulse normal, he grinned, pride overwhelming him as he found he could not bring his gaze away from his work. Then he remembered, like a distant wailing from his new past, that there was more to his masterpiece than what he saw before him.
Sighing softly, he moved himself beside the blond, laying on his side, his arm tucked under his head. With his free hand, he reached out, gingerly touching the mark that hid under messy blond hair. He saw the twitch of eyelids as he moved his fingers over the spot of old abuse, no longer so careful in his actions. There was more twitching as hidden eyes moved in the absolute darkness, his fingers harshly fondling the spot.
And then, hesitantly peeping from the corner, a tear fell down Edward's cheek, and his eyes opened as the lonely bead met his chin.
"Hi," Roy said casually, smiling innocently.
Edward's eyes widened and he gasped as pain and awareness evidently caught up with him, understanding not far in the line. Amused, Roy watched as the amber eyes darted this way and that, becoming more and more magnified behind a shimmery film of building tears. He watched as Ed clutched at his chest and abdomen, told himself over and over that he had been dreaming.
Roy's gaze followed the blond's hands as he disbelievingly touched his bloody thigh, then reached behind him to briefly feel something wet and warm. He saw the stunning shock hammer in the tearing eyes, and he simply smiled.
"Y-you said you loved me," Edward said in a faltering whisper. "You said—"
Uninterested, Roy rolled over, swiftly coming to his feet. He stretched and yawned.
"You said you loved me."
His back popped as it arched and he groaned, cursing his age.
"You said you— You said you—"
He walked to the bedroom door, resting a sticky hand on its brass surface. He turned the knob, but the trembling, broken voice from behind stopped him.
"You said you loved me! You said you would never hurt me!" Ed shrieked, hot tears flooding down his face. "You swore!"
Good? Bad? Better luck next time? Amazing? Kickass? Flaming sack of poo? :o
You tell me haha
Oh, by the way, I'm sure Ed would have fought back more and all, but...it just didn't work out that way. I goofed :p So, for all practical purposes, Ed didn't fight Roy because he loves him and didn't think he could...or something like that....Idk -sigh- Just flame it. No, please don't flame :(
Anyway, please review! Thanks for all the reviews so far! They don't go unnoticed :D
Just as a reminder... this fic is basically a string of unrelated oneshots, so anything can happen in one and not affect (or is it effect? o.0 ...should probably look that up ha) the following chapter. For instance, Ed could be tragically murdered in one chapter and be fine and dandy in the next :D