Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. I do own the DVDs, but I don't think that counts.

A/N: This chapter needs no introduction.

Enjoy!

Complete

France

18. Oct. 28

***

The room was lavish. White walls were embellished with curving floral reliefs and delicately painted murals. The boarder details reminded Winry of the waves of the sea, their bulky, rolling beauty carrying her eye all around the spacious sitting room, encouraging her to further settle herself into the luxury that the chamber promised. Walking past Ed, who was still gawking at the obvious expense Izumi had invested for his wedding night, Winry ran her fingertips over the soft lines of the wood frame of the sofa, the plush smoothness of the silk cushions, and the gilded frame of an ornate Rococo mirror. She smirked to herself when she realized that all of the fabrics were colored scarlet intertwined with the barest traces of gold thread. Everything was rich and sultry and it reminded Winry of her new husband, making her belly clench.

Licking her lips, Winry didn't allow her imagination to carry her too far away. She was just as nervous for her wedding night as she was excited, the memory of the liberties Ed had taken with her in the shower causing a shiver to run down her spine. It wasn't only that moment, however, that left her imagination running wild and wanton.

True to his promise, Ed had not made love to Winry once in the week leading up to their wedding. Although she had insisted that there was no reason for them to wait – even trying to persuade him with passionate kisses and teasing hands – Ed hadn't broken his oath. Instead, he had done something far worse. Every night for a week he would crawl into her bed, his body spooning around hers, arms thrown around her belly, groin nestled snug against her backside, and he would whisper to her every delicious act of lovemaking he intended on showering on her once they were married. Sometimes he would caress her as he spoke, languidly massaging her breasts or rubbing between her legs. Often he would get hard against her, but he never allowed Winry to relieve him, purposely trapping himself in a state of straining want like some torturous foreplay.

Rubbing her thighs together as Ed's whispers echoed through her mind, Winry tried not to blush when she brushed past him to open the double doors that led to the bedroom.

"Oh look…" she sighed, admiring the chamber with soft, half lidded eyes. Ed made his way to her side, his eyes still trained in awe at the sitting room for a moment longer before turning his attention to the bedroom.

"Wow. She really went out of her way, didn't she?" Ed commented gratefully as he walked into the room and circled the brass cart that was topped with silver platters of strawberries and cream and two bottles of fine pink champagne chilling in a bucket of ice, two crystal flutes placed expectantly next to it.

"We have to thank her," Winry noted as she picked up one of the champagne flutes and held it up to the dimmed chandelier light. Closing one eye, Winry perused the bedroom through the crystal. It was like looking through cool, spring water, making the majesty of the opulent room seem even more like a dream. There was a fireplace in the corner with warm flames blazing, their comforting crackle easing the few jitters that began to tickle across the young woman's body when her eyes fell onto the bed.

It was a giant piece of furniture, easily able to fit five people comfortably without their elbows bumping together. The frame and spiraling canopy pillars were made of white marble and the whole structure was seated on a dais, two velvet covered steps on each side of the bed. The coverlet and pillows on the bed were a dark crimson, soft and rich, just begging the newlyweds to tiptoe up the velvet steps and lose themselves to their passion.

Setting the flute back on the cart, Winry gulped, rubbing one hand along her belly as if trying to stroke away the tension that was building within her. She was no virgin, and she had seen Ed naked, so the usual wedding night jitters were not what were plaguing the young woman. Winry was still afraid, despite Ed's promises to the contrary, that when it came to sex she would be as terribly inadequate as her past lover had claimed. The very thought of disappointing Edward in bed was a horrifying sting to Winry's confidence and she fought hard and silently to quell her worries. She wanted the night to be perfect, and fussing over her nerves would only put a damper on the mood.

Mustering up her courage, Winry dared to turn and gaze openly at her new husband.

"What?" she asked when she realized that he had been staring at her, his golden eyes flickering like the flames of the fire. Instead of answering her, Ed flashed Winry a devilish grin she was very familiar with. It was the same grin he used to get when he was about to pull a prank on either herself or Al, and since the younger Elric was on his way to the countryside, Winry knew she was cornered.

Ed charged, scooping Winry up into his arms, holding her to him by the waist as he spun around the room, laughing when her legs fanned out and her arms immediately locked around his neck. Letting out a short squeak of surprise, Winry giggled, remembering how Ed often used to swing her around in just this way when they were children.

"My Winry lies over the ocean. My Winry lies over the sea. My Winry lies over the ocean. Oh bring back my Winry to me!"

"What are you doing?" she chuckled.

"Singing."

"You never sing."

"Never had a reason to."

Blushing at the touching compliment, Winry peppered Ed's neck with kisses. He continued to sing the tune, his spinning slowing until they were standing in the middle of bedroom, Winry's bottom and back pressed up against the bed. Ed moved quickly then and caught her lips with his own. His mouth was wet and warm, only making the woman in his arms want more. Breaking away, Ed pressed his forehead against Winry's, waiting patiently until she opened her eyes to look into his own.

"The winds have blown over the ocean. The winds have blown over the sea. The winds have blown over the ocean. And brought back my Winry to me."

He whispered the last refrain until he was speaking the final line, a raw, resonant tenor to his voice that vibrated from deep within his chest and moved Winry nearly to tears. With her fingers playing in his hair, Winry was lost in the honest swirls of Ed's dark golden eyes.

"Maybe I should be singing that song," she whispered. "You were the one who always left and came back."

"Not this last time. You came back to me," Ed answered.

"Must be Fate," she sighed dramatically, smiling at her husband before he kissed her hungrily, one of is hands moving to cradle the back of her neck while the other wandered low on her waist before smugly capturing her bottom in a firm, lifting grip. Winry groaned into Ed's mouth, her mind dizzy with the sensation of his fingers squeezing her rear end and holding her close against his body. A rush of heat settled in her lower belly, urging her to be bold and brazen. Lifting one long, stocking clad leg, Winry wrapped it tight around Ed's hip, pulling him closer against her, grinding along the firm bulge nestled between his legs and smiling into their kiss when he bumped back. The excitement was building with each kiss, a tornado of cresting emotions that were pulling Ed and Winry like two swirling funnels into the centre, creating a super-storm of frenzied desire.

Shivering under the blissful stinging assault her emotions were playing on her body, Winry rolled her tongue inside of Ed's mouth, taking charge of the kiss and introducing a desperate new fire to their embrace. Her worries vanished under the assault of Ed's lips and she found that she couldn't contain her eagerness to finally be intimate with the man. Her clothes, so painstakingly selected just days before, were now suffocating her and she couldn't wait for them to be removed. She broke their kiss, gasping for air as her arms curved back to grasp at the mother-of-pearl buttons keeping her dress fastened to her body. As Winry struggled to undress herself, Ed burrowed his face in the crook of her neck, lazily licking away the sweat that hid behind her ear.

"You smell so good," he growled, moving one hand to urge her to arch her neck for his mindlessly pleasurable exploration. He wanted to bathe in her scent, drown in it if he could, craving the salty flavor tinged with lavender soap and the subtle, almost invisible hint of oil.

"Help me…" Winry whined in a sultry tone, bumping against Ed in frustration. Removing his face from her neck, he looked down into Winry's passion-glazed eyes and smiled at her furious enthusiasm. She looked absolutely gorgeous in his arms, her back arched as she tried to strip, her breasts heaving teasingly against his chest, her hair perfectly askew, and her lips dark and swollen.

And she was still dressed.

Moving with a renewed motivation, Ed wrapped his arms around Winry and all but attacked the insufferable delicate buttons at her back, his fingers tangling with hers and fumbling just as badly.

"Take these off!" Winry commanded, struggling to twist her hands around Ed's fingers and pull his gloves off. It was difficult to achieve the act behind her back, and Ed didn't co-operate, finding it amusing to wiggle his fingers out of her grip as she groped for his gloves. "Don't be impossible," she warned, kissing his chin over and over until she finally succeeded in her task. Linking their bare fingers together, Winry squeezed them meaningfully. "I love how your hands feel on my skin. Both of them."

Her words increased a fire that Ed didn't believe was possible to further fuel. He was determined to make his wedding night blissful for his bride and if she wanted to feel both of his hands on her skin then he would gladly oblige. Releasing her fingers and giving her hands playful dismissing pats, Ed worked with artful relish on every mother-of-pearl fastener. Winry didn't remain idle as Ed worked, quickly removing his vest and unsnapping his suspenders before rushing to undo every button of his shirt and rip the offending article open to reveal a thin undershirt that molded to his chest like a second skin. Holding onto the parted material as if the treasure that was Ed would vaporize if she let go, Winry stared at her husband with an honest hunger, free of all bashfulness and uncertainty.

Ed gently slipped his fingers under Winry's cream colored dress, his fingertips tickling her shoulders as he slowly pushed the gown from her body, urging her to release his shirt so that her outfit could drop to the floor in a forgotten wave at her feet. She was dressed in a thin linen chemise adorned with a simple lace trim and a blue ribbon along the bust. Her nipples were hard and straining under the material, inviting Ed to take one into his mouth. Before he could move, however, Winry pressed herself tightly against his body, scraping her teeth along his collarbone as she deftly untucked his undershirt and pulled it over his head. Her actions were uncoordinated, almost violent, and as soon as his chest was bare Winry latched her lips to one of his dark pebbled nipples.

He hissed as she suckled, her mouth warm and wet and her tongue a naughty devil as it flicked over him. Ed closed his eyes and hummed in bliss, the low rumble shaking Winry and daring her to continue her torture. He placed his flesh hand on the crown of her head, looking down on her with charged fascination. She moved to attack his neglected nipple, her fingers trailing up his torso to pinch the one she had just abandoned. Moaning when she pinched a tad too hard, Ed yanked Winry away from his body and bruised her lips with a searing kiss. His mouth was open, his tongue slick and sure, knowing where to tease to make her melt in his arms. But Winry wouldn't be won so easily and she fought back, pressing into Ed's kiss so harshly that their teeth clanked together. She moved like she wanted to sink into his flesh, raking her nails along his chest and belly, bumping her hips with his recklessly and breathing hard along his face. Shifting roughly, she pulled on Ed's hair.

"Ouch!" the young man whined, his lips smacking as he pulled away.

"Sorry," Winry groaned, panting as she gently untwined her fingers from the golden tresses. He rubbed the sore spot on his skull, his lips shifting into a puckered pout that almost made his mouth look like a disgruntled triangle. Winry felt the bubbly, euphoric sensation swell around her heart and spread throughout her body until she couldn't contain it any longer.

She laughed, a giddy glorious sound that tinkled throughout the room. It was contagious, and soon Ed joined his wife in her tension draining chuckles, feeling his ardor hold strong, but at the same time losing its agonizing intensity. They laughed together in the room, the crackling fire accompanying their chortles. Gripping lightly onto the other's shoulders, they relished in their new union. Their passion burned bright, but a new intimacy was settling in their eyes. It was deep and overflowing and true, and it brought them closer together than sex ever could.

Still, sex would be nice, but a little teasing foreplay was far too tempting.

"We should eat those strawberries," Ed croaked. "I mean, Izumi will be pretty pissed if we let them go bad."

"You're just scared she'll kick your ass if she finds out you let her gift rot," Winry joked, grateful for Ed's choice of distraction from the sexual calamity that was stuffing her mind like cotton baton.

"Your loss if I can't move," Ed countered with a cocky grin.

"Well, aren't we full of ourselves."

"You wouldn't have me any other way," Ed stated proudly as he scooped up the platters of strawberries and cream and made a hazardous dive for the bed, barely making it onto the high mattress. Winry chuckled at her husband's childishness before leaping onto the bed as well. She nearly fell off, saved by her quick grip on a marble pillar and Ed's hand curling under the collar of her chemise. She landed on her belly, nearly upsetting the bowl of cream, laughing quietly the whole while, gracing Ed with a charming smile before dipping one finger into the cream and popping it into her mouth.

"Mmm…"

"If I liked cream, that would be pretty sexy," Ed snorted hoarsely before shoving several strawberries into his mouth, hoping his furious chomping would soothe the very forceful, one-track demands of his cock. Winry ignored Ed's discomfort, enjoying the sensual power she had over him, discovering just how much fun it was to be in possession of breasts and hips and how she could use them to make her man sweat. The platter of strawberries was nestled in the 'v' of Ed's crossed legs, and Winry stretched like a cat as she reached over to pluck one of the ripe red berries, purposely running her knuckles along his inner thigh before bringing the fruit to her mouth.

"Oops," she exclaimed lightly without a trace of remorse.

" 'Oops' my ass," Ed countered, moving so that he too was reclined on his belly, his nose inches away from hers.

"And what a nice ass it is," she offered, holding a strawberry against Ed's mouth as a means of truce. He bit into the berry, making a grand gesture of just how sweet it was, moaning as he smacked his lips together and even wiggling his bottom for Winry's benefit. "You've got some juice on your chin," she said before leaning forward and licking the offending red stain.

"That's the oldest trick in the book. If you wanted to kiss me all you had to do was ask nicely."

"You are so –"

"And you wouldn't have me any other way," Ed stated again, quickly stuffing a cream covered strawberry into Winry's mouth before she could argue. She narrowed her eyes as she chewed, clearly prepared to let Ed have it when she swallowed, so the golden haired man beat her to it. He kissed the corner of her mouth, tasting the barest hint of sweetness before whispering against her skin. "You have this infuriating need to keep my ego I check, and I wouldn't have you any other way."

"You mean you don't want me to agree with your every opinion? Stroke your pride? Be simpering and docile and quiet?"

"Hell no! You do that and I'll divorce you!"

"On what grounds?"

"False representation. You're a spitfire, Win. You start acting all calm and nice and I won't know what to do with you," Ed admitted, as much making a jest as he was being serious.

"So you're saying you know what to do with me when I'm worked up and angry?"

"Yep."

"And if I'm throwing a wrench?"

"Especially when you're throwing a wrench! Just before you beat my skull in with that thing, your cheeks puffed and pink and your eyes large and dark, I think that's when you look your most beautiful," he confessed, pleased when she blushed under his barrage of admirations.

"That's sweet, Ed, but I think you're a glutton for punishment. Are you sure you're not a sadist?"

"You're not funny," he grumbled, rolling onto his back and popping a few more berries into his mouth while Winry chuckled.

"Here," she said, holding a fat strawberry above him. "Is this another one of those old tricks?"

Ed stared at the berry, catching a drop of tangy juice as it fell on the seam of his lips before craning his neck to take the gift into his mouth. He smirked at Winry's stuttering intake of breath as his lips devoured both the fruit and two of her fingers. He chewed the strawberry gently, his teeth nibbling at her fingertips as his tongue played along the digits, tasting the juice on her skin, believing the flavor to be the most exotic he had ever indulged. She pulled her fingers away slowly, the slight suction of his mouth and the reflection of the fire in his eyes making her toes curl.

"Definitely an old trick," Ed stated, his voice low and rough like the distant crash of waves hitting the beach, "but it has its charms."

Winry gulped, her breath coming in heavy, heaving gasps, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she drowned in the liquid fire of Ed's golden eyes.

"Still hungry?" she asked huskily.

"Not for strawberries."

"Me neither."

She leaned over his body like a shield, her face all he could see in the world, and took his lips in hers, soft and pliant, unwilling to let him escape her as he had done for so many years. Ed bit at her bottom lip, appeasing the sting with his tongue, moving over her mouth in slow circles.

"Here," Winry said, shifting to her knees and shoving the bowl of cream into his hands. "Get these off the bed before we make a mess."

Taking the empty strawberry platter as well, Ed scurried off the bed and set the dishes back on the cart. When he turned to face Winry, he held his breath, blocking the laughter that was threatening to erupt as he watched his wife struggle to get out of her clothes. She was kneeling, the frills on her short cotton bloomers reminding Ed of the muslin dresses she used to wear as a little girl. Her stockings were gone and her camisole was raised high, leaving her torso bare for his gaze to rove, her bellybutton perfectly charming as she swiveled this way and that, struggling to pull the linen over her head.

"Damn buttons! Why does everything in this world have buttons?" she cursed lowly, resorting to yanking the chemise so roughly Ed heard some of the seams tear. "Ed, I can hear you laughing. If you don't help right now you can forget about seeing the rest of me."

Taking the threat very seriously, Ed was at Winry's side in moments, undoing the buttons with an easy flourish before taking her by the waist and planting a hard, lingering kiss on her navel, his tongue lapping against the dip as his hands ran up her bare back, feeling her muscles relax against him as she arched away to throw the chemise off her body.

Her breasts were bare, the nipples dusky pink and swollen. He took one between his teeth, pulling brusquely and making her moan as she straightened and moved to straddle the hard expanse of his right thigh. Ed groaned, his hands moving to rest on the swell of her rear as he encouraged her to ride along his leg slowly, the pressure hot and perfect.

Winry looped her arms around his neck, her mind going dizzy with the sensations Ed was spilling on her. His hands on her half exposed bottom were warm and gentle, urging her to slide back and forth along his thigh, the friction sending jolts of little firecracker bursts shooting up her spine, the excess energy falling down her body to settle in the aching cauldron of her womb. He was still suckling her, both of her nipples raw and wet, glistening like tight pink stars on the expansive galaxy of her light, doe-colored skin. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed as she succumbed to the sensation of being worshiped by a man. When the slick, smooth movement of one of Ed's clever automail fingers dipping into the crevice of her backside sent a hot chill through her body, Winry mewled and launched forward, forcing her husband's lips onto hers, the scant flavor of strawberries buried on his tongue.

She held his jaw between her hands when they pulled apart, ochroid and sapphire swirling with dark promises and even darker passions.

"You take off yours, I'll take off mine," Winry huffed, struggling to breathe. She raked her nails along Ed's shoulders, licking her lips as if she were preparing to sink her teeth into him. Ed's heart pounded as she slid off his thigh. He felt her heat, the barest traces of moisture dotting his trousers when she left him. He moved with purposeful vigor, his belt and fly buttons loose in seconds before his trousers and underwear were torn from his body and tossed into a corner of the bedroom, crumpled and forgotten. Winry moved just as madly, her bloomers catching on the velvet steps against the bed as she crawled under the heavy duvet, sinking with a calm sigh against the plush pillows.

Ed joined her, a wracking shudder tormenting his every muscle when the cool sheets brushed his cock. He was painfully hard and feverish, ready to take what Winry was ready to give, but he refused to let his body rush through the moment. Winry hadn't kept it a secret that her experience with sex was limited and unpleasant. Her past lover hadn't been attentive, fulfilling his own needs before hers, and between his own pride and the warning Izumi had given him about listening to what Winry wanted, Ed was determined to have his wife begging for release before he even considered his own body.

Under the sheets and lying side by side, a shuddering calmness took hold of the couple. There was no pretense or uncertainty, no mixed signals or anxiety. There was simply Edward and Winry, vulnerable and together, savoring every second as it slipped by.

He was almost too slow as he moved to rest on top of her, his automail hand supporting his weight as his flesh one charted lazy courses down her body, tracing her with his nimble, rounded fingers. She did the same, taking her time to enjoy the quiet chance to study Ed with her hands, closing her eyes as her thumbs played around his jaw, her palms smoothing down his stomach and hips, raising up to circle his back and dance around the ridges of his spine.

They kissed as if time was nothing, teasing and long, then quick and harried, tasting, retreating, savoring and fleeting. When Ed took a nipple between his teeth, the urgency began to pound in Winry's ears, her blood screaming for proper release as a stinging emptiness seemed to splinter her being. His metal hand moved to test the weight of one breast, squeezing it gently, letting her heat warm it before slinking further down her body, past her navel and the dip of her hip, before resting with agonizing tenderness along the inside of her left thigh.

And when Ed's automail was exactly where he wanted it to be, his lips followed.

Straddled between her thighs, Ed kept his gaze trained on Winry as he raised one deliciously long leg up to rest on his shoulder so that he could lavish kisses on her from ankle to knee. He watched her writhe beneath him, her arms thrown over her eyes as she struggled with every breath, the bewitching blush of passion staining her cheeks. He wanted to see her come undone, and so he continued his trail of kisses past her knee and up her thigh. The closer he got to her centre the longer his kisses became. He listened to every whine and purr that shook his wife and when her crisp flaxen curls were tickling his nose, he smirked like a conquering pirate when Winry sucked in a deep breath and held it expectantly, her body tense as she waited.

He latched onto the soft skin of her inner thigh, his teeth and lips working greedily as he sucked and pulled, refusing to let go even when Winry's hands yanked hard on his hair in a blind frenzy as she tried to move his lips to where she wanted them. Her scent was intoxicating, spicy and heady, far more indulgent than all the wine in France. Ed relished being surrounded by Winry's fragrance, showing his appreciation by adding even more suction to his hard kiss. When he was certain the circle of skin was plum and bruised, Ed pulled away and admired the sensitive love bite, barbarically proud of himself for leaving a brand on his woman. Giving the discolored skin a final quick nip, Ed crawled his way back up Winry's body, resting his head contently between her breasts, listening with smug gratification to the staccato drum of his wife's heart.

"You're not being funny," she groaned, stroking his hair.

"I'm not trying to be."

"I'm ready, Ed. Really," Winry pleaded, taking his left hand in her own and kissing his knuckles before leading it to the hot velvet softness between her thighs. She curled her fingers around his, urging him to explore. Ed shuddered, unable to stop the involuntary thrust of his hips against Winry's belly when his fingers caressed the silky, yielding flesh. She was slick and so very, very soft. He muffled his groan against her shoulder, carefully slipping his longest finger inside her.

"Oh!" Winry gasped, her nails digging into Ed's shoulders as he pumped shallowly, assuring her readiness, stretching her just a little, encouraging her body to reach a spectacular climax so that her mind would be foggy with blissful satisfaction before his incursion. He moved to rest the tip of his cock at her entrance, teasing himself with the fingers that had worked to make his intrusion as comfortable as possible. He braced himself on his elbows, his face hovering over hers, their hair tangling together to fall on the red pillow like golden silk. He kissed her with coaxing purpose, romancing her lips so that she might ignore his first breeching thrust.

And then it happened.

Pressing the heel of her palms to the small of his back, Winry gave her husband a hard, definitive push, at the same time bracing her legs apart as much as was comfortable. He was encompassed by her body in one easy movement, fitting snug and warm in the fleshy cavity as if it was designed for him alone. They moaned in unison, their bodies arching together. Winry's hands were tight around Ed's back, keeping him still and secure while Ed's legs trembled as he soaked in the reality of finally being one with her.

She was burning, so much hotter than he had imagined, and Ed wondered illogically if their skin would fuse, leaving them forever entangled together for the rest of their days. And then he wondered if he really cared at all because she was so tight and warm and perfect that he decided that an eternity inside of Winry was exactly how he would like to spend the whole of their marriage.

But then her muscles quickened against him and the driving urge to move wracked his body.

"Are you –"

"Yes…" she sighed, her voice small and filled with wonder.

She had no idea it could be like this! Her enthusiastic push had forced Ed into her a tad roughly, but the stretching discomfort had passed with each hard beat of her heart, and Winry realized that Ed was inside her, his hips cradled against hers, his cock hard and blistering as it sat in her sheath.

The vexing emptiness that had been plaguing her from the moment they had entered the hotel suite was filled, but in the dawning of that gratification came a wave of such devastating completeness that Winry thought she might faint. It was more than having her desires sated. It was the absolute healing of the hollowness that had been gnawing at her soul since the day Ed had set fire to his past. As if she had always known and never known, Winry realized that she had been burning, too, the flames licking at her flesh, consuming her heart, scorching her soul, leaving her to smoke and burn-out into grey ash. But now, there was a wave of relief, like a weir of cold clear spring water had put out the blaze and flooded her, filling in the cracks and scars until she was whole and healed and new.

It was everything.

They were everything.

"Dammit! Win, I'm sorry," Ed whispered, his breath damp on her cheek and Winry realized that there were tears slipping down the sides of her face. Her husband wiped at them clumsily, his flesh fingers blunt and warm, his metal fingers smooth and cool. He looked so charmingly distressed as he worried for her comfort that Winry felt her love for him coarse through her nerves like the quick, shattering jolt of automail attachment. She lost her fingers in his hair and kissed him, hoping he could feel her soul.

"I love you," she confessed breathily. "Move."

"But Win –"

"Don't make me tell you again."

He chuckled then, the slight tremors of his laughter barely shifting their bodies, but it was enough to remind the couple of the act they were more than willing to complete.

"And don't hold back," Winry warned as Ed moved to slide out of her. She locked eyes with him, their dark glimmer making it very clear that she wanted all of what he had to give, unwilling to settle for less. Smirking cockily, Ed moved to hook one of her legs in the crook of his elbow, opening her further, pumping into her deeper, and relishing the way her eyes never closed, trained only on him as they made love.

Winry savored every motion, each thrust of Ed's hips a new discovery. She loved the feeling of him inside her, and when he would pull back she followed, her body desperate to keep his heat. Ed growled as Winry bucked against him, her passage so tight and untried that his mind was lost to the deluge of his desire. The rhythm beat through is body, unleashing a savage beast that knew nothing but fulfillment and how to achieve it. Releasing Winry's leg, Ed moved to place his open palm on the curve of her plump buttocks, angling it so that every time he plunged into her his cock would titillate the petite bundle of nerves that were sure to make her scream his name.

There was a new fire building that had taken hold of Winry. In one breath she had believed her heart to be freed of the flames that had kept her and Ed apart for so long, and in the next, she felt her soul burst into a showering blaze, the heat wrapping around them both, promising to combust them together in a grand inferno of red and gold.

And she welcomed the fire, daring it to do its worst.

She was lost, a slave to her body and its bristling demands. Her breath hitched as she felt Ed expand within her, his eyes closing tight, a vein in his neck pressing with brutal force against his skin and his mouth grimacing beautifully just when a rush of wet heat shot from him to her. His fingers dug into the sheets at either side of her head and Winry's nails tore at the flesh of Ed's shoulders, her heart ceasing to beat as he growled her name, his breath sweet on her brow. He pumped a final time, his seed spent and settled deep within her womb, nearly collapsing on top of her, his body trembling. As he moved to slowly slip out of Winry's slick passage, her inner muscles spasmed, gripping his cock desperately as she discovered her own orgasm, the unintelligible sound that ripped from her lips the garbled name of her husband.

She arched off the bed as the power of her climax wracked her body. Ed bowed against her, pressing their damp cheeks together as her muscles milked him, following her hips back down to the bed when she became a puddle of pudding limbs and tingling nerves, a gentle smile smoothing her lips and wonder shinning in her sapphire-like eyes. Each breath pressed her breasts along Ed's chest, at first hard and rapid, then slowing into lulling reminders of her wonderful existence.

Ed moved to slip his cock out of her and shift to one side when she stopped him, arms circling his back, palms rubbing leisurely against the smooth muscles.

"Stay," she sighed. "I like you right where you are."

Ed complied without complaint, slumping fully against his wife, nestling his head in the crook of her neck where he laid a wet kiss as fatigue coaxed him into a peaceful slumber. His last sensation of the night was feeling Winry curve her leg to run along his automail calf, her whispers of love kissing the shell of his ear before dreams of home and wholeness whisked him away.

***

France

19. Oct. 28

***

Winry yawned loudly as she woke, her vision hazy and mind muddled, but her body so warmly relaxed that the slow consciousness of her senses was hardly a concern. Smiling, she rolled along the bed, thinking she would bump into the hard muscular planes of her husband, but was sorely surprised to discover that she was alone. Crinkling her brows, Winry sat up in the bed and searched the room.

It was very dark, dawn still a few hours away. The fire had gone out long ago, the ashes cold and no longer smoking. Winry had thought she would find Ed preparing to restock the fireplace, but instead she spotted his inky silhouette standing near the window. His figure was bare, his hair down and arms braced against the frame as he stared at the panorama of Paris. Knowing he was lost to his thoughts, Winry wondered if he wanted company to traipse the oceans of his mind.

Draping one of the sheets around her body, Winry slithered out of the bed and padded lightly towards her husband. From the way his shoulders relaxed, she knew that he could feel her behind him. Rather than turn to regard her, Ed kept his focus on the city, giving Winry the peaceful chance to admire his back. She had traced the contours of those muscles many times, charted the faded scars and polished the shoulder port. It was a lovely back, strong and smooth, the spine dipping along the centre of bronzed skin and ending in the firm, plump mounds of his buttocks. Running her fingers across his shoulder blades, Winry planted a gentle kiss in the middle of Ed's spine, working her lips higher until she was kissing the back of his neck and her arms were wrapped securely about his middle. She smiled when Ed's flesh hand joined hers, interlocking just above his naval.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

"Fine," Winry answered, smirking against his skin as she snuggled along his back. "Better than fine. Incredible. Amazing. Wonderful. I think…I think I want to cry tears of joy."

"I promise, Winry, the only tears I'll ever make you cry from now on are tears of joy," Ed swore, raising her hand to his lips so that he could seal his words with a kiss to her palm. Looking at their hands over his shoulder, Winry sighed, a mild tone of disgruntlement reverberating from her throat. "What is it?"

"I just wish we could have a ring for you," she whispered, her eyes falling to her own handcrafted wedding band, admiring it in the moonlight.

"I don't need a ring."

"But I –"

"You've already left your mark on me," he confessed, moving his right hand to rest on her upper thigh. She felt the metal through the sheet, its chill causing a comforting shudder to wrack her body. "This automail has always meant that I belong to you."

"So you've been mine since you were eleven?"

"Longer than that," Ed confessed as he turned to finally face her. His cheeks were still flush from the afterglow, his eyes full of dark electricity. "When we were kids, Al and I used to fight over who would get to marry you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Those days we would come to school really beat up and we never told you why…well, we always fought the hardest when it came to you."

"And why is that?"

"Because I wasn't going to share you, even with Al. I wanted you for myself," Ed confessed smugly, pulling her close and kissing her nose.

"Well, fair's fair, Mr. Alchemist," Winry warned. "I'm not sharing you, either."

They kissed then, mouths open and searching, lips wet and soft. Ed pressed Winry against him, making sure she felt how hard he was. Her encouraging groan was all the permission he needed to tug the sheet from her body and let it float to their feet. He took hold of her hips, about to brace her against the wall, when she pushed insistently at his shoulders and threw him a sultry, half-lidded look.

"I want to try something," she explained, leaning in to kiss his neck, his chest, his belly, until she was on her knees before him, his cock in her hands and her intention clearly shining in her blue eyes.

"Win –"

"I want to," she insisted, and before Ed could argue, her mouth was on him and all protests died to mingle into a shuddering moan on his lips.

Winry took her time, and Ed was not inclined to rush her exploration. She loved how his body went rigid and his hands groped for her hair. He had done so much to make her mind explode and her body writhe, bringing her all the pleasure he had promised, and she wanted to do the same for him. She wanted him to go mindless, to lose all control, to scream her name into the dark, and most of all, she wanted to pull his strings and make him bend to her will.

Soon his body tightened and he growled lowly, vibrating against her, his breath shallow and strained, his body bowing over hers as he came. And when he laid spent in her arms, Winry stroked his hair and kissed his brow, whispering that she loved him until he tugged at her body and pulled her up to look out the window at the sleeping city.

They made love as the dawn broke over Paris, and fell asleep on the floor, curled around each other.

***

France

20. Oct. 28

***

Dr. Mauro locked up his clinic and strolled back to his office. It had been a tiring day. A fire caused by a malfunctioning stove had set two houses ablaze, killing a mother and her baby and severely injuring another child. Sadly, the unfortunate burn victim had succumbed to her injuries and died that afternoon, making the senior doctor the messenger of unbearable news to the girl's father. It was the worst part of his work, and the promise of fuzzy comfort that rested at the bottom of the whiskey bottle hidden in the top drawer of his desk was what saw the good doctor locking himself in his dark, boxy office.

Collapsing into his chair, the cushion so worn that stuffing slithered out of several broken seams, Dr. Mauro gave his face a few rough scrubs before seeking out the amber alcohol and a clean glass. He drank two and a half glasses before bothering to notice the pile of mail on his desk. Now feeling limber and relaxed, he reached for the stacks of envelopes, flipping through them quickly to discern which required his immediate attention.

He nearly choked on his liquor when a choppy, scrawling handwriting caught his attention. The chicken scratch could only belong to Unteroffizier Yokidell.

Officer Yoki was a creeping, slithery fellow who, despite his thirteen years of service in the Reichswehr, had never graduated beyond his under officer rank. Being relatively ignored by his superiors, and his growing disdain for the German military fairly well known, Dr. Mauro had taken a chance, contacting a friend of an acquaintance of Yoki's to determine if the sly man would agree to doing a bit of espionage. The price Yoki demanded had been completely unreasonable, but the mystery of the SS officers that had come to his clinic nearly two weeks ago and their connection to the patient they'd called Kimblee had driven the country doctor to distraction.

The patient in question was no help at all. Although Mauro knew he had heard the dark haired SS solider call him Kimblee, the man never answered to that name when addressed by the clinic staff. For the most part, he was unresponsive and stoic, and then, without warning, would lash out violently, scratching at the eyes of his attendants, cursing at the women, and even going so far as to stab a blond nurse through the hand with a scalpel. Now the strange crazed man was strapped to his bed at all times, and for the past week had reverted to an empty shell of a human being, refusing all sustenance. It was a troubling case and a gnawing mystery, and the answers that Yoki may have been able to provide were as precious to the doctor as aspirin. Dr. Mauro wondered what Yoki could have discerned when the only information that could be used were the names Kimblee and Roy, a description of the blond female soldier and a connection with the Schutzstaffel. Still, no matter what flimsy report Yoki could provide, Dr. Mauro was eager to accept it.

He had to know who his mystery patient was before the curiosity killed him!

Gripping his letter opener far too eagerly, he tore into the envelope. Unfolding the paper, the doctor devoured the words on the page as earnestly as he had swallowed his whiskey. The seeping warmth that the liquor had so easily provided, however, drained and stilled in his veins as the doctor absorbed the information. His hands began to shake before he could finish the report and the paper slipped from his fingers and floated to the desk. Eyes wide and unseeing, Dr. Mauro tried to calm himself, but his body was trapped in the grip of horrified tremors as the truth in Officer Yoki's letter attacked him like a shower of bullets.

"This isn't right…" he muttered, gripping the arms of his chair so roughly that his knuckles burned white and his fingers chafed against the wood. "The Hochroter Tod…but he was executed. It can't be!"

"Oh, but it can."

As if he was suddenly turned to stone, Dr. Mauro was stricken as a figure emerged from the long shadow cast by his dominating bookcase in the orange lamplight. Like the phantom that he was, the patient that had consumed the doctor's imagination seemed to materialize out of the darkness. His hair was oily and disheveled, his eyes as black as coal dust and gleaming with deranged joy.

Kimblee smiled as he approached the befuddled doctor, enjoying the play of fear that contorted the old man's face as he came up to the desk and casually sipped from the whiskey bottle, cringing delightfully at the slow burn. Acting as breezily as if they were dear friends, Kimblee glanced down at the damning letter, his expression of blank interest stretching into malicious understanding.

"Y-y-yo-you can't –"

"Gee, doc, you look like you've seen a ghost," Kimblee joked, leaping over the desk and reaching for Dr. Mauro. Spurred by instinct, the doctor pushed back, desperate for distance between himself and the spook born of the shadows. Unfortunately, his chair wheeled into the wall, jostling him and upsetting his perception. Before he could heft himself out of his chair and make an escape, Kimblee had Dr. Mauro pinned, the slender tip of his embossed letter opener jabbing against the loose folds of skin at his throat.

"Zolf Kimblee is dead," Dr. Mauro groaned.

"Not quite."

"I read about it. A firing squad. You were declared dead. You were buried! You should be burning in hell!"

"Funny thing about hell, doctor," Kimblee snorted, "if the devil doesn't like you, he spits you back up."

"How did you escape?"

"I won't bore you with the details of my salvation from death, but I will tell you that your pretty little nurse – Claire, was it? – should have been warned about the potential dangers of loosening a patient's restraints when he appeals to her compassion for food."

"Should have?" Dr. Mauro gasped.

"Ashes to ashes and all that jazz," Kimblee sneered, rolling his eyes as if his confession was entirely too bothersome to even discuss.

"You killed—"

"I thought you'd read all about me, doctor. You should know killing is what I do."

And with those words, delivered with such honest revelry and purpose, Kimblee pierced Dr. Mauro's throat and sliced, the blood spraying on his face like a mist. Dr. Mauro gargled, small pink bubbles collecting in the corners of his mouth. His lips flapped and he tried to speak, but no sound would escape. Leaning forward, Kimble watched with ardent fascination as the life left the doctor. Locking eyes, Kimblee could see the accusation striking out at him from the depths of the doctor's quickly departing soul and he tutted as a mother would to a naughty child.

"Silly man, you should have known. Curiosity killed the cat."

Smiling with patronizing kindness, Kimblee watched as the doctor's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body sagging like a sack of flour in the chair. It didn't take long for the old man to die, and Kimblee didn't bother dignifying his death with a moment of thought. Licking at the bitter blood on his chin, the assassin worked quickly, only slightly encumbered by his injuries. He removed the doctor's clothing before his blood seeped through the long overcoat and sullied the shirt and trousers under it. Changing out of his own scrubs and into the fresher clothes of Dr. Mauro, Kimblee took a second swig of the whiskey before finding the doctor's car keys and wallet. Smirking at the fabulous turn of his luck, Kimblee finally addressed the letter that bore his treacherous secret. Reading over it briskly, a feral snarl tore itself from the assassin's throat as he read over Roy Kluge's name. Crinkling the paper, Kimblee shoved it in his mouth and swallowed the wad whole, his plan already in motion, his spite already a net around his soul.

It had been festering in him for weeks, ever since Kluge had declared him useless. Zolf Kimblee was not a man of great wealth or possession. All he had was his reputation and his pride, and Kluge had dared to take away both. It would be sweet satisfaction when he stole the uranium bomb from under Kluge's nose. He might even kill the haughty commander, or even better, report his little bodyguard to the Schutzstaffel and watch Kluge suffer as she was jailed, interrogated and killed. As he had lain helpless and impotent in the French clinic for the past fortnight, Kimblee was gnawed from the inside out with his obsession to make Kluge renounce his words. Only when he had felt some semblance of strength return to his body – and dammit to hell that he was forced to walk with a limp and damaged left hand! – did Kimblee allow his black nature to seek revenge on those who had wronged him.

It wouldn't be impossible to track down Elric and his whore, but as his body was in a tender condition, Kimblee knew it would be better to wait for the happy couple to frolic to him. Surely they would return to Freiburg and rendezvous with that traitor, Lang. If his dates were correct, the director would still be in Freiburg for another two days before his film permits expired and he would return to Berlin. Kimblee was certain that if he tracked Lang, Elric's merry band would resurface.

Because if he wanted to show Kluge his mistake in insulting him, Kimblee needed the uranium bomb, and if he wanted the bomb then he needed Elric.

And in order to get Elric, Kimblee needed the woman.

I want to apologize to everyone for taking so long to get this latest chapter finished. I must confess that, between my surgery, going back to school and moving, my inspiration also left me and I hadn't touched a single creative writing project for almost two months. However, I am back in the saddle and I'm ready to get Don't Forget finished before too long. I've always known how I wanted it to end, it was just a matter of getting the words to come out right. So, thanks for being patient, or not-so-patient but understanding, with me.

Here are some notes to my anonymous reviewers:

MC: Thanks! Hope I didn't let you down with this latest chapter, and sorry the update took FOREVER!

Shingmei: Hi! Glad you liked the AlxNoa detour. Don't worry, I can promise right now that neither of them will die, but as for when they'll work out their communication constipation…well, that's for a future chapter to tell. And I'm so thrilled you liked Izumi's appearance. It seems most readers did, and that just made my month. I'm doing very well, thanks, and I hope you enjoyed the lemon. It was pretty citrusy, wasn't it?

roseofsharon28: Thanks so much! The surgery went very well and I hope you've liked this last chapter.

Athyra: Fear not, things will work out with Al and his beloved…eventually…maybe…not in the next chapter though. Thanks so much for leaving a review. Hope you liked this latest chapter as well!

gorelore: Glad you liked Izumi. She's a ball to write. Hope you've liked this latest chapter as well.

Edwardsslave4live: Thanks so much for the support. And of course you can be a great writer, just practice, practice, practice, and take the risks of showing your work to others for critique and criticism. Hope the rest of this fic will continue to play with your heartstrings!

FMA-Freak: I can totally sympathize with your post-Conqueror of Shamballa feelings. That's why I started writing this fic. At least with the manga, and Brotherhood, I think we'll be in for a more satisfying EdxWinry conclusion. Thanks very much for your review!

whoyouwannabeisme: Fear not, I am continuing this story. Life just happened to take me for one hell of a ride these last few months, and I lost my writing bug for a while. However, I am happy to say that I am once again fully infected and am working to complete this work very soon. Thanks for leaving me your thoughts, I really appreciate them! Cheers!

tanya: Thanks! I'm happy you're enjoying the fic and I'm sorry it took so long to get the next update posted. Hope you enjoyed it!

Once again, thanks for reading. Please, leave me a review and let me know your thoughts. No flames, please and thank you!

Cheers!

Giant Nickel