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Obedience and Restraint: Snarry, NC-17

Title: Obedience and Restraint

Author: feri_wiccan.
Pairing: Snarry.
Rating: NC-17. Like UNF.
Word Count: 200 x 2
Warnings: Uh... Porn. Complete PWP. D/s themes. Dirty talk like it’s no one’s business. Implied bondage. I’M A KINKY MOFO. No redeeming qualities other than to make you blush and delete your history.

Summary: Porn. Oh, you wanted an actual summary?

A/N: I’ve been in the fandom for a bit, but I hadn’t written anything for it yet. Decided to change this on a whim.

...I like porn.

I haven't written 'fic literally in years, do tell me how I am. I know I'm a bit rusty ;)


Tears were seeping out of his eyes, staining the blindfold. He didn’t try to blink and clear them.

A dark, deep chuckle. Something just grazing along the edge of his bound cock, which twitched despite the ring at the base of it.

“Mr. Potter,” murmured a voice from above, that voice, his bedroom voice. “You appear to be so hard that it is causing you pain.”

He couldn’t help a small noise escaping through his nose.

“Does it ache, Mr. Potter?” The voice was hinted with amusement now, teasing over his body. “You may nod.”

Harry took this to mean he should violently shake his head up and down. The touch on his prick drew away; he sobbed into his gag even as he heard the sneer Snape made.

“Oh, Mr. Potter,” came the hiss, “I could fuck you over any piece of the handsome, expensive furniture in this room, and you would spill yourself without even considering you’d be sullying it with your cum... That’s it, nod yes, Mr. Potter.”

Those silken, filthy words worked over his cock and his hips jerked violently as he tried to frot against air.

“You’re dripping, boy.”

He wanted to scream in frustration.


He froze.

“If you move your hips,” Snape whispered, “I will stop.”


It was the only warning he had before a finger began to drag across the head of his cock.

He screamed internally, blood thundering, muscles spasming. The touch circled his slit, pressed it, played with it. His balls were so hot and full...

The cock ring was Banished, and his prick throbbed, dangerously close to shooting off right then. The head of it was captured by Snape’s thumb and middle finger, squeezing just hard enough to restrict him.

Snape’s forefinger. Tapping insistently on his slit.

“Stay still. You will learn obedience, you will learn restraint.”

That was the lesson tonight, wasn’t it? Obedience and restraint... Tied and teased, agreeing to Snape’s every word.

“Slut.” Tap, tap, tap... rub...


“Greedy boy.” Rubbing harder, tapping faster.


“Nasty thing, aren’t you?”


“...Will you come on this?” The voice had dropped an octave.

Shit YES, yes yes please ohfuck—

Obey me, Mr. Potter.”

Fuck, he was coming, he was coming—Snape needed to take his hand away, it was— he was—

He jerked his hips, and the fingers released him, save for the one still abusing his slit.



Fic: Chatterbox

Author's Note: This fic was first posted on my deviantART account on 07-07-07. (Woah... I did NOT realize this when I posted it!) Some really old PWP. Not the best... lol.


Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: RoyxEd
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PWP


“Roy, what're you--”

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Hawkeye will be back from lunchbreak in fourty minutes!”

Edward rolled his eyes. A janitor's  closet? Seriously, the man had no tact. As Roy's mouth latched onto his neck, he bit his lip.

“Horny bastard, aren't you?” he gritted out. Mustang hummed an affirmative while running his teeth over Ed's ear.

“But aren't you, too?” he murmured, sliding his hand down Edward's torso and cupped his crotch. Edward rocked into the hand with his eyes shut, abandoning himself for just a moment as the man fondled him into hardness. How could the bastard do this to him with such a simple touch, dammit? It took him at least twice as long when he did it himself!

“Mmm, fuck,” Edward murmured softly, arching into the colonel's hand. He heard a chuckle in his ear.

“See, slacking isn't so bad,” Roy purred. “I find it to be just as good as working, just as... satisfying,” and he squeezed his hand, eliciting an unintentional moan. Edward was having difficulty standing up at this point, and he gripped Mustang's shoulders to steady himself.

“Get on with it,” he growled irritably, still rubbing himself on the colonel's hand, “Don't leave me -- ohhh -- hanging!”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Roy replied smoothly. He withdrew his hand (he swore he could hear Ed's cock sob) and swiftly undid his pants, Edward mimicking him hastily and shoving his boxers down. As Roy was still strugling with the buttons, he watched as Ed slid a hand down to himself, wrapping it around his erection and gently stroking. Finally (finally!) he got his own pants down, and he took no time in snatching the boy's flesh wrist away from jerking himself off.

“Oh, I don't think so,” he said with no small amount of amusement. Edward groaned and wet his lips, dry from panting.

“You got me this way,” he hissed, “fucking finish it!”

“I'll take my time,” Roy informed him smoothly, grinding his pelvis into Ed's.

“Oh fuck no,” the boy groaned in frustration, feeling his lover's cock rub against his own. “Hawkeye will wonder where we are,” he grated out, then moaned.

“Maybe she'll figure out that I'm in here, getting ready to fuck a horny Fullmetal into next week,” Roy panted. “I bet she'd understand.”

“You have a deathwish,” Edward moaned.

Mustang grinned inwardly. He so enjoyed their banter. In moods like this, Edward and he would often have entire conversations as he was slamming his cock into the blond's tight little ass. This time, however, he wanted to use those hyperactive vocal chords for a more... applicable cause.

He felt Edward's thighs tense; a tell-tale sign that the boy was going to cum. Forcing himself to stop and making Ed whine, Mustang fished out a bottle of lube from his discarded pants pocket. Edward was propped up against the nearest wall, mismatched legs flopping over the colonel's shoulders and aching cock between them. He moaned as Roy uncapped the lube and poured it over his fingers.

“It turns you on, knowing what I'm about to do,” the man husked, dropping the bottle and squeezing his ass.

“Fuck yes, you know it does,” Ed groaned. “Come on, I hate these goddamned games...”

“Why don't you tell me what you want me to do to you?” Roy purred, running his hand over the inside of Edward's thigh.

“Oh, you bastard,” he sobbed, “I'm half naked and up against the wall in a fucking janitor's closet! Just fuck me already, I know you want to; your cock looks almost as hard as mine!” Perhaps Roy should have wondered how the boy could tell from his current position, but he had a much better idea. He slipped a finger into Edward's ass to give him the friction he'd been craving, but then he brought his other hand down to grip his own cock. The colonel moaned deeply, rocking his hips into his fist so that it was unmistakable as to what he was doing. Edward's golden eyes widened a bit.

“Mmm, yeah, I'm so hard...” Roy crooned, slipping another finger inside of him. “I want to be inside of you, so bad...”

“You bastard!” Ed shrieked passionately. “I'm right fucking here, oh, hell!” His flesh hand had resumed stroking again, squeezing his aching cock in an attempt to find relief. He whimpered when Roy hooked his fingers and they brushed against his prostate; it made his hand jerk faster on his cock.

“What if we came like this?” Roy husked, following Ed's lead and stroking himself faster. “Would you be satisfied?”

“No,” Edward moaned, almost as if in pain, “but I can't stop...”

But I can. And Mustang did, withdrawing his fingers from the boy and stilling his own hips. He gripped Ed's waist and thrust smoothly into him, nearly losing it when he felt Edward's muscles clench around him. He was so hot, so tight, and Roy had to bite his tongue to keep thinking straight. The boy moaned loudly when Roy thrust into him, arching his back in acceptance.

“Yes, yes,” Edward panted, still fisting his cock, “Come on, move! Fuck me!” Roy groaned and thrust his hips, feeling the boy draw him deeper into that tight heat. He couldn't help himself from doing it again, and then again, and soon he was fucking the blond as fast as he could, desperate for more.

“Harder,” Edward demanded, unnapeasable. “Fuck, harder!” Mustang could barely think with all the pleasure coming from his cock, all he could do was obey and fuck the boy into oblivion. Ed cried out as he came, clenching deliciously around Roy's cock and dragging the colonel with him to the point of no return.

Roy had a bit of trouble staying upright, his knees wobbling with the force of his climax. He guided Ed back to the ground, helping him get his pants back on and being aided in return.

“'Was good,” the boy muttered, voice rough from sex. Mustang's pride swelled.

“Glad you approve,” he smirked, peeking out the doorway. Luckily, everyone was still at lunch and the halls were empty. He gave Ed's ass a parting smack and went in the bathroom to clean up.


Riza leaned against the wall, face flushed. Finally, it was over... She cocked her ears just to make sure.

Oh hell, she thought, this gave a whole new meaning to the term “closet pervert.” Damn, what would they think if they knew that she enjoyed their “banter” just as much as they did?



Fic: Obsession

Author's Note: First published 06-21-07 on fanfiction.net. Originally a sneak-peek for a longer fic, but I abandoned that one. I've never seen a WrathxAl pairing before, and I like to think that my concept is somewhat unique.


Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: WrathxAl (I know, weird, huh?)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AT, darkish smut


“You look so much like your brother.” A sentiment that came from each soul he met. He felt like he was living in a shadow, the shadow of some unreal legend that he never had the courtesy of being acquainted with. It had first begun when he received his brother's old clothes for his twelfth birthday; so delighted he'd been that he donned the red coat instantly, and took the resulting comments as praise. But Alphonse Elric didn't want to be some doppleganger, taking the place of a prodigy. It was a position he had been unwillingly thrust into, and behind his sunny exterior was a subtler demeanor; jealous and obsessive.

He sometimes questioned his motives for finding his brother; it had been four years ago, dammit, shouldn't he have given up? It was devastating at first, having to cope with the fact that Edward was gone, but now he had settled and he'd moved on. So what had driven him to this near madness, this intent on finding him? He remembered nothing, maybe that was why. Winry often spoke of a time “back then” when he was apparently a different person. When Ed was alive. It was madness within him, this unknowing, that drove him to near insanity. Alphonse often couldn't stand it.

It wasn't until he exploded at Winry did he notice his peculiar psychological behavior; no person in their right mind would get so upset about such a trivial phrase, right?

“SHUT UP!” he yelled.

“But, Al I was just-”

“Yeah, I know what you were just,” he sneered angrily, “'Oh, Al, you're so much like him,' 'Al, you've got your brother's eyes,' 'Sorry, Al, I didn't mean to call you Edward, it's just that you're his fucking twin--'”

“Alphonse!” Pinako's sharp voice cut into his. “I won't tolerate that sort of language in my house! I thought we raised you better!”

“Yeah, me too,” he muttered, spinning on his heels and walking quickly out the door. He was nearly positive that it came off the hinges slightly when he slammed it shut.


He set a quick pace to the river, Edward's boots clomping along the gravely road as he walked. Winry was probably following him, but he didn't care. Why should he? That girl was nothing but a nuisance to him. Always so emotional, especially when he was trying to do research! He needed to concentrate! He needed to be able to work without having some girl look at him with eyes she saved for his brother!

Alphonse set his pace quicker, made long, brisk strides along the riverbank. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't know if Winry was following him, and he didn't know where his brother was.

But there was one thing he did know.

He needed Edward back. He needed his brother to arrive and take his throne back so Alphonse could melt away quietly into the shadows.


He'd already gone farther than he and his brother had ever gone, and the sun was beginning to set. A bloody shade stained the sky and silhouetted the craggy hillside. Alphonse shivered and wrapped his brother's coat tighter around him, pressing the two arrays on his palms together to fuse the cloth.

“Shit,” he whispered as a gust bit at his face. That was the problem with Risembool, they'd always said, the only middle ground was three weeks in the middle of spring. Now that summer was fading, the nights had begun to drop violently in temperature.

A large, arc-shape shadow loomed about fifty feet away from him in the growing mountain. As Alphonse neared it, He realized it was a small cavern, and stepped in, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness for a moment in order to look around. The remaining sunlight shone through in small holes in the ceiling, and it was obvious that no one had been in there due to the abundance of spiraling rock formations on both ground and ceiling. Taking another step further in, Alphonse discovered that it went quite deep into the hillside, far deeper in fact than the shadows alluded to. Still squinting in the near-complete darkness, he let his eyes roam, until they caught upon something shining in the corner rather unnaturally. It shifted a bit and Alphonse froze, heart pounding. There wasn't anything there, he tried to tell himself, no one had been in the cave before. It was a trick of his eyes.

“Well, well,” scratched a voice from the darkness. It was an eerily high-pitched voice, almost childish, but the tone clearly alluded to a creature experienced in cruelty.

“W-Who's there?” he said, too quickly.

“Don't you recognize me?” it spat. The shining objects moved again, this time accompanied by a metallic shifting sound that seemed quite nostalgic.

Alphonse braced himself; the shifting appeared to be moving into a dim patch of light.

“I believe the more important question would be to ask who you are,” the thing said softly, in a childish voice with undertones of malice. As it stepped into view even the light itself seemed to shied from its pale body and startling metal appendages. Its face was almost totally obscured by long, unkempt black hair, save for two violet eyes with pupils like slits.

“Alphonse Elric,” he whispered, trying to push the fear from his voice. The thing seemed to falter for a moment, but quickly regained its air.

“Do you know what it is like, Alphonse Elric,” it asked, “to lose?”

Al shook his head slowly, unsure how to answer.

“Of course you don't,” said the thing almost placidly, and Alphonse would have taken it as soothing if its eyes weren't burning with hatred. “You couldn't possibly know what its like to have to live, DAY after DAY, knowing you have become that which you had despised the most! You couldn't possibly know what it was like to watch everything around you fall to PIECES and just fucking SIT THERE!” It was yelling through clenched teeth now, taking forceful steps into the light. “You couldn't POSSIBLY know what it was like, knowing that there's no death to look forward to, that you can't even fucking end it.

Alphonse gasped as it dug it's steel fingers into the flesh of its left arm, sinking to his knees and leaving deep, bloody gashes. But as he ran to help the unholy creature, its skin seemed to reconnect; the wounds seemed to vanish.

“What are you?” he whispered in fearful awe.

“I am a sin,” it replied coldly, spitefully, and it rose, almost like a puppet being pulled to its feet. It stalked towards him and Alphonse felt his heart flutter with increasing panic. He raised his hands, ready to slam them together at a moment's notice. The sin paused.

For a moment, a single, terrifying moment, the thing pierced him with its violet, serpentine eyes.

And then it laughed.

It started as a corner of that mouth curling up, displaying inhumanly sharp teeth. Then a giggle. Then it was clutching its stomach with mismatched arms and laughing cruelly.

Alphonse stared, dumbfounded, taken aback and yet still on edge.

“You are!” it shrieked in childish glee. “You look like him, you act like him! You've become your brother!” Al set his jaw and balled his fists at his side, waiting for the thing's hilarity to subside.

“Shut up,” he muttered lowly, not loud enough for the thing to hear him.

Or so he thought, for its giggling abated to fix him with a lazy, violet stare.

“Does that bother you?” it almost crooned, as if it took great amusement in the fact. Alphonse didn't answer, averted his eyes and studied a spiraling stalagmite protruding from the cavern floor. He heard footsteps and looked up, saw the creature walking towards him.

“You do look so much like him,” he murmured, and Al was sure it was a 'he' because he could blushingly see the identifying anatomy through the thing's tight black shorts.

“I thought you were his ghost, come to take me back to the Gate at last...” Al's heart skipped a beat.

“The Gate?” he breathed, momentarily forgetting his fear towards the boy-creature. “What do you know about the Gate?” The thing's tight lips curled into a faint, cold smile as it stopped about ten feet in front of him.

“It's hell in there,” he sang with cruel joy. Al gritted his teeth.


“Who are you?” he whispered. The boy's lips curled upward to reveal his sharp teeth and Alphonse shivered, thought to himself on how much he did not want to see those teeth again.

“I am a piece of the forgotten past,” the boy began lowly, “I am a child who was abandoned by mother and creator and God. I am the only one left who remembers the horrors of the day Edward Elric was swallowed up by the Gates of HELL!”

Alphonse flinched; the boy seemed as if he were going to explode with fury. But instead of screaming as he had feared, he looked up and spoke softly, as if reciting, with a deadly calm.

“I was cursed from the moment I was named,” he breathed, voice dripping with venom. “I am Wrath.”

Al shivered uncontrollably. There was something eerily fitting about Wrath's name, something in the back of his mind that chimed like a clearly-rung bell.

Look at him, it said, he has automail like Brother did! And for once, Al could, for the boy's tirade had brought him into a patch of fading sunlight that made the steel limbs gleam in striking contrast with the rest of his pale body. Alphonse studied it; tried to map out its every detail, this one remaining part of Edward that stood before him. His gaze brought his eyes to the boy's, which were fixed on his own.

“Intrigued?” Wrath whispered, walking towards him with his steel arm extended for show, “I don't blame you. They're fascinating.”

Al kept his eyes locked on the arm cautiously even as it was offered to him with playful elegance. The metal glinted in the dim light of the cavern, and Alphonse's eyes followed the line of it up to the shoulder, then snapped to the burning violet orbs that inhabited the sin's head, asking for permission.

“Go ahead,” Wrath said lowly. “Indulge yourself. I have all the time in the world.”

An offer he couldn't refuse.


Alphonse grasped the steel hand, gently, marveling at the perfection of each digit. He let it rest in his own, felt the weight of the metal and wondered briefly if this was what it had felt like when he held his brother's hand.

Wrath stood passively towards the expression of awe that crept onto Alphonse's face.

“...There's more than the hands,” the sin said finally, nonchalantly. He rolled his hand over so it was palm up, offering the blond another eyeful to devour.

“What does it feel like?” Al breathed in wonder. Wrath grinned in a sinister fashion, withdrew his arm and traced a single metal digit up and down his own pale arm.

“Where?” the sin whispered. Al gulped nervously, shivered just a little as he followed the steel with his eyes.

“Everywhere,” he breathed without thinking, barely audible. The metal hand paused and Al flicked his eyes to Wrath's face, where the ghost of a smile had settled into place. He put the metal hand on his hip in mock annoyance, but the tips of metal digits resting in the crease of his thigh made Al hold his breath at the seemingly teasing gesture. Something about this was getting far too real, out of control...

It was also making his pants tighten in a familiar manner that seemed quite inappropriate for such a situation.

Alphonse fidgeted a bit; his eyes burned but he refused to blink. He couldn't, not when they were locked on that hand, inching closer to --

In one smooth movement, Wrath cupped his metal palm firmly over the front of his form-fitting black shorts and moaned. Al gulped nervously, felt a small bit of sweat slide down his neck. What the fuck was going on here? When had this turned sexual? But as he began to try and trace the chain of events back, the metal digits curled and rubbed, fucking fondled him into hardness. Al drew in a sharp breath, unable to draw his eyes from the fuckingDELICIOUS scene before him...

“What are you doing?” he hissed out as loudly as he could manage, which was a small whisper. This was scary, how he was reacting to this --

And even though he couldn't see it, he knew that those teeth were being displayed prominently in a devilish grin.

I thought it was supposed to be Wrath, not lust, he thought to himself. And suddenly, there was something else besides arousal as well that was cultivating in his system; something that nudged insistently at the back of his mind like an old memory.

The spell was momentarily broken when the sin moaned again, causing Al's eyes to whip to his face.

“Doesn't it strike you as odd,” Wrath began softly, between pants, “that we seem to be two halves of a whole?” Alphonse didn't answer, tried to keep his gaze fixed on the sin's face which was contorting beautifully in pleasure--

Wrath's arm left his crotch and he strode towards the blond, who was apparently rooted to the spot he stood at. The sin didn't stop until they were nose to nose, violet eyes piercing auburn ones.

“Who knows what will happen if we unite the two?” he said lowly, dangerously.

Alphonse didn't move, made no sound, didn't breathe, not even when the sin's lips pressed against his own in a demanding caress. It sent a jolt through his body, a fluttering awareness of contact that sent a rush of heat into his groin and a returning tickle to his mind. He felt a tongue poke at his lips and he reflexively tightened them in embarrassment.

“Come on,” Wrath murmured, causing a buzzing sensation on his lips. Cautiously, Alphonse parted his lips and let the sin's tongue slither in to stroke his own. It was a creepy feeling, not that he hadn't felt it from the odd date before, but certainly it was not like this. The tension and awareness of the situation contributed to Al's own arousal and he shivered a bit; felt Wrath drink it in. The sin wrapped a cold automail arm around his back and fit their bodies together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, and groin to groin. Al couldn't help grinding just a little with the hot pressure on his cock, and the sin's tongue in his mouth danced as if in delight. A contented moan.

“Yeah,” Wrath said softly, breaking their lips for a moment.

Alphonse's head spun. He opened his eyes only to stare into the sin's face, the closed pale eyelids which fluttered slightly in pleasure of the moment... It was scary that this was happening, and Alphonse could hear the blood pounding in his ears even as Wrath's tongue slid inside his mouth. The sin withdrew, a look of annoyance gracing its features.

“Just let the fuck go,” he hissed, “I'm going to do this whether you like it or not, so you might as well fucking enjoy it.”

Alphonse gulped in nervousness as silence reigned for a second.

Fuck it.

As Wrath moved to reclaim his mouth, Alphonse slipped an arm around the sin's back and let his tongue invade him.


It was so different. He had kissed girls, who often yeilded when a man's tongue slid into their sweet caverns, but Wrath was aggressive. Alphonse shivered, felt his cock stir more as the sin quickly found all of the most sensitive places in his mouth and exploited them shamelessly. Fuck, it felt good, and he couldn't help arching up a bit and grinding against an offered thigh in front of him. An automail arm snaked between their bodies and Alphonse was momentarily afraid that he had done something wrong, but only until it found the front of his pants. He broke away, using all of his willpower not to moan as Wrath undid the button and eased the zipper down.


“Relax,” Wrath murmured. “Not like I haven't done this before to myself.”

That's supposed to help me relax? Al thought in a bit of disbelief. Most of the blood had already left his brain, making him quite lightheaded and all of his feelings more potent. He steeled himself as Wrath's inhuman, devilish teeth teased his ear, as his mismatched arms pulled both his pants and boxers down, as a steel hand reached up to grasp his aching cock. The automail felt... bizarre. The sin was obviously used to wielding it, knowing exactly how much pressure to put on his cock and exactly how good it would feel. Alphonse gripped onto Wrath's shoulders tighter, shuddering as he tried to restrain himself from thrusting raggedly and ripping his delicate skin. It felt so good though, how perfectly the sin fondled it in those metal digits. It wasn't anything like he was used to doing on himself, there was never this... restraint.

“What does it feel like?” Wrath breathed into his ear, causing a shiver to run down the blond's spine. Alphonse could barely manage a grunt under the pleasure that was coiling inside him and he could feel the sin's answering smirk.

“I know,” he crooned understandingly, almost sympathetically, “I just don't know how your brother restrained himself all those years...” But Alphonse was too far gone to care, and Wrath's murmurings didn't even register in his mind. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth was slightly open in almost disbelief of the sheer amount of pleasure he was feeling, yet his throat refused to work. Unnoticed by him, however, was the pale hand that had began to stroke and pump the sin's own erection. Alphonse was lost, so close to release yet not able to thrust enough to cum. He moaned, then realized hazily that Wrath was the only one who could make him – and wasn't letting him.

“Fuck,” he ground out, panting, “Come on... Let me --” His breath caught hard when the sin squeezed, and it took all of his willpower not to buck in those blessedly constricting steel fingers. Then again, and again, and Alphonse's back arched violently as orgasm finally overtook him with a long and low groan.

Epiphany rushed through him and suddenly memories he'd never known existed revealed themselves to him; a young Winry's shocked face as his brother's blood spilled off an armor body onto the carpet; a strange hybrid of a dog and a girl; a little boy with black hair peering out of a forest on an island.

Oh God,” he whispered, bringing himself back to reality. He hung clammily to Wrath as he came down, weak after his violent climax. Wrath himself had cum only moments before, but Alphonse was so hazy-minded that he didn't notice the white liquid dripping down his leg.

He didn't know what to do as coherency slowly returned. He felt as though it was no longer necessary to be leaning his forehead on Wrath's chest with eyes shut tight, but embarrassment kept him frozen in place. The awkwardness that he felt only multiplied tenfold when he opened his eyes blearily to see the sin's flesh hand still wrapped around his own spent cock. Alphonse lifted his head jerkily with a blush and averted his eyes.

Silence reigned for a few gut-wrenching moments as he frantically tried to think of something to say. “Thank you” sounded stupid, and Alphonse was sure that he'd never muster the courage to say something like “that felt good”.

“...I...” he began after a few moments, “...have to... go.” Blushing furiously, he walked quickly out of the cave with mixed thoughts, feeling the sin's piercing violet gaze on him the entire way out.



Fic: Teacher's Pet, Chapter 2

Author's Note: This is the second chapter of my "Teacher's Pet" series, which has been put on indefinite hiatus after this chapter. This chapter was originally posted to fanfiction.net on 02-15-07. Although this story seems to me rather silly, I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Teacher's Pet
Chapter Two

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: RoyxEd
Rating: NC-17


It wasn't until he got home and settled down with a glass of scotch did he fully realize the extent of his mistake.


You fucked your sixteen year old student.

Roy winced at the accusation he'd brought upon himself and leaned his forehead on the rim of the glass. He really hadn't meant for it to go that far. It started as a joke, one small teasing comment that spiraled out of control to an after school make-out session complete with the loss of Edward's virginity.

He asked me for it! he tried to reason, pleading with his conscience. He begged for it! I wouldn't have done it otherwise, I swear!

But you did do it.

Why he always had to be so logical, Roy did not know.


There was no denial in Edward's mind about what happened. He'd been defeated by the truth after thinking about it when he got home. The facts were straight (or, rather, not so straight): he had kissed the bastard first, he had asked to be fucked. The question was why. Why was it that he had that much pent-up sexual frustration that he'd beg to be completely and utterly fucked by his male adult teacher? He'd never been really interested in anyone before, especially not men. Why did his body suddenly decide to wake up then?

Edward rolled over in his bed and eyed the clock. 10 o'clock already. He sighed. He'd been mulling this over for longer than he thought. He wasn't going to get any sleep, at this rate.

He flipped over again and tried to calm his restless mind. And yet oddly, the most calming image in his head was lying beside the bastard that day, having his naked stomach rubbed comfortingly after the most thrilling orgasm in his sixteen-year-old life.


“Care to explain the bodily fluids on the floor last night?” Roy winced and met the eyes of his friend, currently leaning on a mop.

“No?” he ventured. The dark haired man sighed in exasperation and adjusted his janitor's cap.

“You know, Roy,” Maes Hughes said, “None of this would happen if you just settled down and got yourself a wife.” Roy rolled his eyes. The speech was long dull the first hundred times, thank you.

“So, who was it?”

The question caught Roy off guard. He hadn't exactly planned on needing an alibi.

“Was it Maria?” Hughes pressed.

“No, I- Look, I'd rather not-”

“Oh, experimenting, are we?” Hughes' eyes gleamed merrily. “I knew you enjoyed our college days more than you let on! It's Jean, isn't it? I've got ten bucks riding on it!”

“No, Maes, I-” Roy stopped. “People are betting on who I'm fucking?”

“Just a couple other janitors 'n' me,” Hughes assured him. “Nothing big, really.” Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So...” Maes said after a moment, rocking onto his heels. “Was it Falman?”






“You gonna tell me, or what?”



He was still grading papers when Edward arrived. The blond made a big production of walking to his seat without catching Roy's eye. He even managed to take out a piece of paper and copy down the problems on the board without blushing.


“Good morning,” Roy ventured, and received little more than a grunt in response. He mentally shrugged and decided not to push his luck.

That's more than I expected. Hell, if it had been him, he wouldn't have even come to school today. A few more minutes passed, and though the silence was about as awkward as you could get, Roy suspected attempting to force Edward into conversation might be like getting into negative ratios.

The next two to come in were the two girls who sat behind Edward, Julia and Megan. They walked in the door, took one look at Roy, and started to giggle and blush, walking to their seats. Seriously, you'd think he had no clothes on, the way they looked at him. In fact, as more people began to filter in, the only person blushing more than them was Edward, who had his nose buried in work and only looked up to meet Roy's gaze every couple minutes before whipping his eyes back down. Roy decided not to question it.

At last the bell rang. It gave him an excuse to get up from his seat and close the door. He cleared his throat.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said, sitting back down. “How are-”

“FINE,” Edward snapped, then seemed to realize that he was the only one talking and buried his face back in his algebra book. A corner of Roy's mouth perked up, but he forced it down.

“Good morning, Professor,” chimed Julia and Megan. Roy's eye twitched. The uber suck-up routine was getting very old, very fast.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said a bit uneasily, earning scandalized giggles from the two of them. Mustang groaned inwardly and turned to the blackboard, glancing back at his class notes for the day. He scribbled a few equations on the board and explained how to solve them. He also managed to dodge the poison glares that Edward shot at him with grace, and succeeded in keeping the two girls in check as well. About five minutes before the bell rang, Roy announced that class was over and sat down greatfuly.

Whoever said “First day is the worst, second is the best” is a fucking idiot. He sighed as the class turned into an unorganized jumble, except for Edward, who seemed intent on burning a hole through his forehead using sheer willpower.

Oh shit, maybe it might help if he stopped smirking.

Mustang mentally cursed himself. It was a subconscious reaction to seeing that scowl, he swore it was! Straightening his face, he motioned Edward over with a jerk of his head. He was going to apologize, if only just to clear his conscience. Arms folded, the blond planted himself in front Roy's desk, sulking glare aimed at the floor.

“Look, Edward, I-”

“I'm sorry,” Ed muttered. Roy blinked in surprise.

“What?” Edward was apologizing to him?

“You heard me,” he said, voice belying a rise in anger from the boy. “I've been a complete asshole. Isn't that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Well, no,” Roy said uneasily. Golden eyes flicked up to him in a suspicious glance. “I wanted to say that I'm sorry about yesterd-”

The bell rang.

Edward wasted no time in spinning around, braid whipping to the side, grabbing his backpack and heading out the door. Roy stared after him, dumbfounded. It was almost as if Edward didn't want him to apologize.


Why did you fucking apologize? Edward screamed in his head. After how I acted yesterday, and what you still did?

He walked into the boy's bathroom, seething, and undid his pants in a rush, fumbling with the buttons.

You're a complete BASTARD.

As he rolled his boxers down to his ankles, he realized how hard and aching he was.

I hate you.

Edward's fingers entwined in downy blond curls. His cock throbbed in impatience as sweat slid down his neck. He wet his lips and leaned his head back, letting out a trembling breath.

Really, I do.

He curled his fingers around the shaft and stroked, biting back chokes and gasps as his eyes slid closed.

But I can't stop--

His hips bucked hard into his hand a few times before he regained control, and he squeezed gently to reward himself, allowing for a quiet moan.


The pad of Edward's thumb stroked over the slit, causing him to sob softly. No... No, it wasn't his thumb anymore, it was that bastard's tongue.

Why do you do this to me?

The methodical pumping of his fist became Roy's mouth, bobbing between his legs. Precome became saliva and Edward's eyes rolled back and his breath caught hard in pleasure of the fantasy.

I don't want to think about you while I'm doing this...

Roy's face smirked at him behind his closed eyelids, Roy's tongue teased the head of his cock and he wet his lips as he felt his climax building.

But no matter how hard I try...

Ohh... So close...

You won't stay out of my mind!

Edward gritted his teeth against a keening whine as he came. He fell out of his body's hard arch against the wall and just panted for a few moments. He stormed out, but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much anger he wanted to feel, he couldn't stop the feeling of contentedness that curled into his limbs and mind.


Roy ate lunch quietly in his classroom that day.

He'd conceded that both he and Edward needed some time to think. Alone.

He... didn't want me to apologize... It was, when it hit him, a realization that filled Roy with the greatest potpourri of emotions he'd ever felt at any given time: relief, joy, anticipation, fear. He didn't know what to think, at this point. But hell, what happened that day could not happen again, no matter what the kid's feelings. He'd given it some thought and decided thoroughly on “well-you-didn't-think-it-through-the-first-time-but-if-you-do-it-again-it's-definitely-wrong.” It was all one big mistake, that was all.

Nothing more.

“Oh, god, Roy!”

Well, almost nothing.


Maes Hughes dunked his mop back into the bucket and checked his watch.

Lunchtime. He mentally did a little jig. He hadn't had breakfast that morning, and he'd been waiting eagerly for his lunch break all day! Granted, it wasn't technically his lunch break, but it was someone's; hell, he could sneak in to get a sandwich or something, right?

Hughes nodded to himself. Damn right! And honestly, he was so hungry he didn't think even getting fired for this would make him care.


Maes managed to slip into the lunch line without incident, but he had to fend off the instinct of pushing past all of the students to reach sweet salvation of hunger. It was so tempting to just grunt, “Outta my way”, but in the end his overall nice personality won out over primal hunger.

But only by a little. In fact, Hughes had to convince himself (with the help of teacher aides, much to his embarrassment) not to just scarf the sandwich down before finding a seat. Muttering something about lunch ladies minding their own business, he sat down at the nearest table, across from a blond boy wearing a red coat. Hughes wasted no time in taking a massive bite out of the defenseless sandwich, letting out a near-sexual moan of contentment. The boy eyed him for a moment before resuming eating his own lunch, albeit a bit slower. Hughes finished moments after, letting a dreamy smile settle onto his face.

“They make great sandwiches here,” he remarked, trying to make conversation with his tablemate. The boy shrugged.

“I guess,” he muttered, then seemed to think he'd said too much and turned back to his spaghetti.

“Not big conversationalist, I see,” Hughes remarked. It was ignored. “So... what are your classes?” he prodded, increasingly determined to get a response.

The boy had a distinctive “why-is-this-guy-still-talking-to-me” look on his face. Maes shrugged inwardly. If the kid wasn't going to talk to him, he might as well go back to work. Or whatever it was he was doing. With a wave and a smile, he left the blond in silence to finish his lunch.

“Goddammit,” he heard the boy mutter as he left, “why do all my lunches have to suck so much?!”


Ed was still relatively tired by gym class. Lethargy tugged at his body and he considered asking the teacher if he could sit out.

But it was still soccer week. Yesterday might have been lame, but today the coach (a woman named Riza Hawkeye) promised a full scrimmage. As he stood on the perimeter of the gym in line with the other twenty or so students, Ms. Hawkeye blew her whistle.

“Okay!” she said, yelling from the middle of the gym. “We'll be picking teams today for a scrimmage! Edward and Tim, you're team captains. Choose your teammates.” Ed walked to the middle of the room with Timothy Peterson, a boy who Edward had played with on the soccer team last year. Tim tucked his shaggy brown hair out of his face and smiled at him.

He tried to grin back, he really did. He only hoped it didn't come out as a grimace.


Edward was panting by the time the match was over and the bell rung. Tim had given him a real run for his money. His gym shirt was officially too sweat stained to wear until it was washed at least twice. Ed gratefully took a shower (though he usually avoided doing so because of the school's general unsanitary) and grudgingly walked to his English class.

He slept through half of it.


Edward hopped on the bus, nodding a hello to the driver. Al grinned wryly at him when he boarded.

“Not staying after today?” he said tauntingly, and shifted so Edward had room to sit down. Ed elbowed him (somewhat) gently.

“Shut up, will you?” he said. “Ask the bus driver to announce it, why don'cha?”


The only thing that stopped him was Edward yanking on his ponytail.


Roy's reluctance to let the boy go scared him. It was like a dark cloud that hung over his head. A big, dark cloud of “oh shit.” More specifically, of “oh shit I'm in love with a student.” Roy leaned back into his leather couch and left the ungraded papers on the glass top coffee table.

I'm reading too much into this, aren't I? He removed his reading glasses and rested them on the table and closed his eyes.

There was only one known remedy to this slump.

Roy opened the drawer to one of the side tables that a lamp was sitting on and drew out a little black book.


Edward walked out of the bathroom, weak-kneed and trembling slightly in afterglow. He wobbled to the couch, clicked his mechanical pencil again and set back to scribbling answers on his homework.


Something was wrong. He was panting after having sex with a woman, and yet he still wasn't satisfied. It was strange, actually, to have her moaning from release, and for it to act as a near turn-off. Damn that kid, damn him for distracting him like this!


He nearly emptied his bottle of scotch that night.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

It was a question he would ask himself for the rest of the night.

“I want you inside me.”

You're driving me insane, Elric. And you know, a part of me is liking it.


Roy had officially decided that he had the worst hangover of all time.

For all the world, he could not bring himself to lift himself from the desk. He kept reading the same words on the paper he lay on, repeating them like a mantra in his head to attempt to keep himself awake. “½(x1 – x2)h... ½(x1 – x2)h...

The door slammed open and a flit of a blond braid passed in the man's peripheral vision.

Roy lifted his head.

“Edward,” he managed as a greeting.

“Professor,” Ed grunted back, directing an angry glare towards his homework. Roy swore he could see the paper cower in fear. They sat in silence for the next few minutes until Roy finally gave in, exasperated.

There is no way I am going to just let this go.

“Edward,” he said, “come here.” The boy did as he was told, albeit reluctantly and with an angry glare that made Roy cringe.

“What?” he ground out from between clenched teeth. Regaining his composure, Roy tossed caution into the wind.

“I am not going to stand for having a student loath me the entire year,” he informed the boy smoothly. “I would sooner have you transferred to another class.” Edward bristled.

“That's what I hate about you,” he hissed. “You think that you're the hottest thing on wheels, don'tcha? And you won't stand for anyone not puppying behind you! That's the reason you fucked me, isn't it? Isn't it?!


“Well, what is, then?”

Roy remained silent.


The man rose from his seat, eyes narrowed on Ed's face, circling it for a moment. He reached out with one hand and, in one swift motion, cupped it behind the boy's head and brought their lips together, plunged his tongue into Ed's mouth.

Call it a weakness, call it a sin...

But as much as I try to deny it...

I can't help the fact that I...

“I am very attracted to you, Edward,” Roy murmured into the boy's lips after a moment of tongue battling, eyes glittering charcoal slits.

Edward's breath caught and the man savored it, swiped his tongue across the boy's lips one last time and drew back. Ed was left leaning over the desk on tiptoes, hands planted firmly on the edge closest to him, and eyes fluttering open.

The bell rang.

Life sprang back into Ed's features, realizing, in panic, where he was. He made a beeline for his desk, slamming his ass into the plastic seat rather violently in an attempt to kill his growing... problem. He silently cursed Mustang for having that large oak desk to cover him, and oh fuck what he would give for his long red coat right about now! His hand shot up and Roy looked at him quizzically before responding.

“Yes, Edward?”

“May I go to the bathroom, Professor?” he forced through gritted teeth, face heating up. Mustang was bound to know exactly why he needed to leave, after that freaking session of tonsil-hockey. God, he really hated the man sometimes! And the other times... well... that was for when he was in the bathroom. Alone.

Fortunately for him, Roy merely nodded and suppressed the oncoming smirk. Now was not the time, especially so because he had a half-class of teenagers and a hangover.

Even still, as Edward stiffly raced towards the door, Roy's mind couldn't help straying to the realm of not-safe-for-work thoughts... and exactly what the boy would do when he got in the stall, pants and boxers at his ankles, cock hard in his own hand...

He shook his head in a feeble attempt to pull his mind out of the gutter. But all he could think of was Edward, moaning and golden eyes screwed shut in pleasure...

He cleared his throat nervously and shifted in his seat to accommodate his OWN problem.

“I'll be right back,” he announced half-heartedly, and for all he cared, no one could have heard him. Roy stood up from his desk and walked out the door briskly.


Edward walked in the nearest bathroom and made sure all of the other stalls were empty before choosing the farthest one. He stripped his jeans and boxers off quickly, eager for relief. Ed hissed as he wrapped a hand around himself, stuffing the other into his mouth to stifle the noise.

Fuck, how could the bastard do that to him with a simple kiss? It was a paradox he'd never figure the answer to, and, as he stroked himself, he wouldn't care about for some time.


Roy closed the door to the bathroom quietly behind him and noted, with thankfulness, that only one stall was occupied. He walked up to the door, careful not to make noise, and leaned against the adjacent wall, ears perked intently to catch any noise.

A shuffling of feet, the rustling of pants, oh, flesh sliding along flesh, that sounded nice --

A moan, muffled by something. Roy's heart leapt in glee of the sound. Yes yes, that was good, oh, and a shaky curse as well, and the man's mind instantly went to work trying to picture the scene inside the door in his mind. Yes, he could see it, Edward leaning against the door, pants around his ankles. Hand around his own cock, palms slick with precome and sweat... The thought was delicious and Roy briefly considered walking into one of the other stalls to jack off for himself.

He decided against it when he heard his own goddamned name, and the idea of going into Edward's stall seemed much, much more appealing. But damn, he'd have to time it just right, just when Ed was desperate enough to let the man in. So Roy leaned back against the wall and, for the moment, enjoyed the show.


Ed was lost now, lost in his own fantasy and pleasure. He could almost feel the man's mouth around him, almost see a dark head bobbing between his legs. Ed wrenched his hand out of his mouth and brought it down to help, cupping and pressing his balls in time with his increasingly frantic strokes. God, he was so close, and he bit his lip hard to attempt to muffle any sound.

When he heard a whimper, Roy could no longer contain himself.

“Edward,” purred a familiar deep voice from outside the green stall door, “Do you want help with that?” Ed jumped, startled, yanked violently out of his fantasy, completely horrified being caught. But by who? His mind still had a haze of pleasure over it, and he couldn't quite think straight... God, if he could only place that voice...

Oh my god.

He shivered all over, and despite his fear and horror, he was instantly twice as hard as he'd been fifteen seconds ago. This couldn't be happening, no it could not, the man would not just abandon his class to come catch him masturbating. No, that was implausible, hell, he didn't even hear the man come in!

And mostly because if it did happen, Ed would surely pass out from both shock and lack of blood in parts of his body other than his cock.

“Edward?” There came the velvety voice again, perhaps a tad more concerned this time, though still sensual. Ed's cock jumped at the utterance, and he almost -- almost -- made an angry gesture at it.

And yet curiosity was eating him alive – what if it was the bastard, waiting outside, what if, on the slim chance it was him, the man wanted to pleasure him into a state of near unconsciousness like Edward kept imagining him doing?

Reluctantly and gingerly he unlocked the door and Roy Mustang strode in with a smirk on his face, locking the door behind him.

Ed's eyes nearly crossed. This was crazy... It was some insane dream, some insane, crazy, wonderful dream, and as soon as he woke up, he'd have to run to the laundry room with his soiled sheets in order to avoid his brother.

“Edward,” Roy husked, stroking a hand down the boy's cheek and eyes flicking to his aching groin, “do you want me to help you with that?”

This was insane, this was crazy, this was so different from the other day and this was surpassing all of his fantasies. Two days ago had been tension and desire, hard and fast and new, but this... This was simply different, Roy offering to please him, to satisfy his urge knowing full well that Edward could take care of it on his own. The thought was an unexpected turn-on and all the boy could do in response was gulp as his cock twitched impatience.

Roy leaned closer till their noses were almost touching, black eyes lidded and lust burning within them.

“Well?” came the murmur.

Well, fuck. If it was a dream, he might as well take advantage of it.

“...OK,” Ed managed to whisper shakily. Roy let out that low chuckle he found so sensual and the man kneeled down.

Edward's heart almost stopped.

Mustang wasn't just going to jack him off... he was going to --

All thought in Edward's head was effectively brought to a halt as Roy brought his cock into his mouth.


Edward was about to scream, or cry out, or something, but Roy muted it by reaching up and clamping a hand over the boy's mouth.

We don't need anyone walking in on us, do we? he wanted to say, but couldn't. So instead, the man hummed around Edward's cock, watching the effect it took on the boy. Ed's eyes got wide and he could feel the sob against his hand, had to hold the boy's hips to prevent accidental chokage. Roy went down on him, pressing the boy's cock to the roof of his mouth. Ed's eyes rolled back into his head and his hands managed to find the man's head, securing themselves there. Grunting, Mustang sucked and Edward took in a throaty breath that went straight to Roy's own cock.

Mustang drew back to say something and Ed sobbed and whimpered around his hand, his cock aching for that wet heat again.

“Shh,” Roy crooned, voice almost husky, “If you can be quiet, I'll make it better for you.”

Better? Ed's mind screamed, What can be better than this ROY, go back to sucking me off ROY, please I need it ROY!

But he nodded vigorously, and unclenched his teeth so Mustang could withdraw his hand. The boy instead replaced it with one of his own. Both hands free, Roy gripped Ed's legs and took him in again. It was good, yes it was; having that hot, wet mouth teasing him was driving him insane. After a moment of sucking and humming and making sure the boy wouldn't cum yet, Roy let go of one of Edward's legs. He then took the free hand and slid them below his balls to the flesh behind it. Letting them rest lightly there, Roy continued to lavish Edward with licking and sucking and bobbing, but held back when he knew the boy was about to cum. Though he couldn't speak, Ed was pleading with his eyes and face, please, make me cum, please don't stop, I need it, please...

Roy gave a particularly hard suck and Edward moaned audibly. The man took it as a sign and began to rub his fingers down, the fingers right behind his balls. Ed's eyes got wide and he sobbed, gripping Roy's hair harder.

“Fuck,” he hissed against his hand. Yeah, it felt good. Hell, it was almost like the man was stroking him and sucking him off. Soon, the fingers attained a rhythm in time with his own bobbing head, and Edward was desperately trying to hold back orgasm. It felt too good, too good, he just never wanted it to end. His own fantasy being played out, plus this new element that Roy added into the mix... It was overwhelming. The heat of his mouth, the wetness, plus seeing that dark head between his legs, constantly reminding him that this was real.

Suddenly, he couldn't hold out anymore, and Ed bucked. Roy compensated, relaxing his throat and taking the boy deep. He released the boy's leg in favor of slamming his hand over Edward's mouth, since the boy's own hand had tangled itself in his dark hair, urging him on. Ed let out a muffled half-shout. Wave after wave of pleasure hit him, and he choked, feeling his inevitable orgasm catch up with him. He came and Roy's mouth stayed on him, sucking hard as ever through the hip spasms and even for a few moments afterwards. When the man finally looked up, Edward groaned at the sight: ruffled hair, half-lidded eyes, and a pink tongue slipping out to clean a dribble of white liquid from his lips.

I came in his mouth.

“That was great,” he found himself saying in a hoarse voice. “Really, really great.”

“Mmm, I'm glad you enjoyed it,” Roy replied huskily, “We'll have to do that again sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah we will.”



Fic: Teacher's Pet, Chapter 1

Author's Note: This was originally posted on fanfiction.net on 09-28-06. I promise you that my writing has since improved; this is here for archival purposes. That being said, I hope you enjoy one of my earlier works :)

Teacher's Pet
Chapter One: Demerit

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: RoyxEd
Rating: NC-17


“Brother, get up! It's the first day of school!” Edward strung a few curses together in a murmur and peeled his eyes open to read the digital clock sitting on his bedstand. It read 6:00. Alphonse was already downstairs making breakfast for them both; Edward could smell the bacon and eggs. He sat up with a groan and rubbed his eyes, yawning.

“Come on, Ed!” came the call.

“Yeah, alright!” he replied, swinging his legs over the side of the white bedspread. Half asleep, he stumbled into the walk-in closet and chose a top and some jeans at random. Other kids might care about how they looked, but screw them! It was six in the morning! After much ado with putting his underwear on the wrong way (twice), he chose a simple button-down shirt and jeans, then walked down the stairs, slightly more coherent.

“G'morning,” he said to his brother, who was placing the plates of scrambled egg and bacon on the table.

“Coffee?” Alphonse said, offering him a mug. Ed snatched it eagerly and took a long swig, his brain praising his brother for supplying him with caffeine. With another sip he sat down at the table and ate gratefully. Al joined him within a few seconds, gulping a bit of his orange juice.

“Thanks for breakfast, Al,” Ed said, and yawned.

“Figured you'd want some protein for our first day,” his brother replied kindly. Ed smiled and ruffled his hair.

“My brother, the saint,” he cooed. Alphonse immediately swatted Edward's hand away to fix his hair while Ed chuckled.

“Unlike some people,” his brother shot, “I actually care about how I look on the first day of school!” Edward shrugged.

“Not like I have anyone to impress or anything.”

“What about your teachers,” Alphonse pressed. “Surely you care about them.”

“You can't suck up on the first day, Al,” Ed laughed, “that comes later!”


Edward stepped into the doorway, nervously glancing into the room. There were several rows of desks, each and every one bereft of the customary student. He swore aloud at his luck. He was the first one there. No one liked being the first one in class. And on the first day of school, it was nearly guaranteed to grant you a week's worth of snickers and teasing. He shot his gaze to the teacher's desk. Oh, even better. Before the teacher, too. He sighed and made his way to the middle desk in the front row. Sitting down, he drummed his fingers impatiently, watching the clock move from quarter to seven. As it approached seven, a tall man with coal-black eyes and raven hair walked into the doorway, peeking his head in. He seemed to be the epitome of suave, which for no apparent reason, pissed the boy off. He flicked his eyes to Edward.

And he smirked.

For a moment, Edward blinked, stunned. The guy, whom he had never met before, never even seen before, had the gall to smirk at him! Screw suave, the bastard was fucking unctuous!

“You look a bit short for a junior,” he remarked casually, voice laced with taunting. He continued to smirk, leaning against the arch of the doorway. The insult sank in.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Edward demanded angrily. At that moment, the bell rang and kids began flooding in. The man walked fully into the room carrying a briefcase and Ed felt a pang of dread.


“My name,” he announced to the rapidly appearing class, but staring at Edward, “is professor Roy Mustang.”


Just my luck, he thought angrily, staring at his teacher. Damn, this day is not going well. After learning everyone's names (for which Ed had been asked to mutter his three times), Roy turned around and wrote his name on the chalkboard in PERFECT handwriting.

Yeah, like I'd ever forget you, thought Edward angrily. Bastard. Damn, I hope--

His angry thoughts were interrupted by the giggles and excited whispers of two girls behind him.

“The professor is such a hottie,” one of them whispered.

“Oh my god, I know!” the other breathed. “Just look at him!” Edward became increasingly irritated with each wibbling comment about “Professor Bastard.” Couldn't anyone else besides him tell that the man was a complete asshole? At that moment, Mustang turned around and sat down at his desk.

“Ladies,” he said, addressing the two girls behind Edward, “I'm glad you think so highly of me, but if you could leave your swooning for lunch?” Ed's jaw dropped. The bastard's composure didn't even crack a bit!

Fucking self-obsessed smart-ass --

“And if you could stop gaping like a fish, Mr. Elric?” Ed snapped his jaw shut and glared poison daggers at the smirking man.

-- bastard.


“Edward, why don't you give us the answer to the next question?”

“X equals seven,” he muttered. Math, luckily, was a strong point of his. Even still, it was annoying to be picked on; the two girls who had been chittering behind him giggled and his scowl increased.

Why is he picking on me?

Mustang nodded with a smirk, then darted his eyes up to the clock.

“Good,” he said. “OK, class, it's almost the end of the period now. Gather up your belongings.”

“Thank god,” Edward muttered.

“Frankly, Mr. Elric,” Roy said, “I'm glad you're leaving. Your lovely disposition and cheery attitude don't exactly fit in here. Maybe you could be a little more gloomy and grumpy?”

“Well fuck you,” Edward snorted.

And then he paled and remembered who it was he was talking to. Most of the other students were out the door already, but those who weren't stared at him in shock. Mustang's face did a few changes in the next few seconds and Edward documented them in his mind. Dark eyebrows arched elegantly up in gentle surprise before a glint in his eyes changed it to amusement. But the man quickly composed himself, pulling down the corners of his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows just a bit. But the twinkle of amusement never left and it left Edward decidedly angry and oddly on edge.

“I will not allow for such crude profanity in my class,” Roy declared (with a fucking smirk in his voice, Edward noted), “so I am afraid I'll have to give you a demerit.”

“What!” Edward shouted. “Everyone else in class was swearing their heads off and you just looked the other way! What makes me so special?”

“Well,” Roy said, “perhaps if you come to my classroom after school, I'll let you know.” Without a proper retort, Edward furiously gathered the rest of his stuff and jammed it in his bag, storming out the door.


Throughout the rest of the day, he could not stop thinking about the bastard. History (his next subject) was never a strong point of his and it most certainly didn't help that the woman teaching was boring beyond belief. She droned on and on about nothing, it seemed, and Edward was finding it very hard not to fall asleep. His eyes trailed along his textbook, brain not completely processing each word. In the 1840's... rebellion... armies... industry... it was all past his head.

He reluctantly trained his gaze to the professor, currently reading aloud. Ed felt his brain haze even as his eyes were open, and he drifted off into a light doze. Random oddities filled his clouded mind, floating by his subconscious. A corner of paper, numbers, books, a smirk, dark hair--

Ed jolted himself awake angrily.

Bastard won't even leave me alone in my daydreams!

He started at how wrong that sounded, (“sketchy,” they'd call it) and his face flushed before he got a chance to stop it.

It's not like that! he exclaimed inwardly. Eww!


Lunch didn't go much better. Unfortunately, he got second lunch, and no one he knew was in it, forcing him to grab an empty table. Edward bought himself a cheeseburger and sat down, beginning to snarf it down ravenously.

“Well, well, looks like someone's hungry.” Edward winced. He knew that voice. With a sinking feeling, he glared up at The Bastard.

“Mind if I sit here?” Mustang asked, and before Edward could say “yes”, sat down. Knowing any sudden outbursts wouldn't do him much good, Ed kept to himself, containing his anger, boiling like a pot of water, and Mustang was just the fire. The bastard even tried to talk to him, for crying out loud! Like Mustang couldn't anticipate a student he just gave a demerit to being pissed off.

“So what else have you had so far?” Mustang asked pleasantly, taking a bite of his chicken. Edward grunted and engrossed himself in his cheeseburger.

“OK, if I guess right, say so. Science, English, history--”

Edward grunted again. Why the hell was the man even trying? He sure as hell wasn't going to get a word out of him!

“Not going to talk?” Mustang asked, and the smirk was back in his voice. Edward glared up at him. “I suppose we'll just have to talk after school.” After a few more minutes of silent eating, lunch was over. Edward hurried to his next class, glancing back at Mustang, sure that his eyes were on him. But they weren't. The man was simply throwing his trash away, but when he looked up, he smirked at Ed. The boy blushed and quickly looked away, running out of the lunchroom.


The rest of the day was a blur. Phys Ed was right after lunch, and that week's game was soccer. Edward, having played soccer for the majority of his life, was thoroughly disappointed when no one else was as good as he was.

The last block, English, wasn't much better. His teacher, a guy named Professor Thomas, seemed to favor rote memorization and copying words over and over again to remember them. By the time class was over, Ed was sure his hand had turned to pudding. When the bell finally rang, he rushed out the door gladly, but soon recalled his afterschool “appointment” with his math teacher. Thankfully, the math wing was directly above the English wing, so he didn't have too far to walk, but the sheer embarrassment of staying afterschool made the trip long and grueling. When he reached the door, he gulped and strode in.


It wasn't until he reached the middle of the classroom that he realized Professor Mustang wasn't even there. Ed blinked in surprise and looked around again to make sure the bastard wasn't hiding and planning to jump out and scare the shit out of him. That seemed the kind of thing he would do. Shrugging inwardly, he walked back to the door.

No sense staying if the bastard isn't here.

He nearly walked into the man on his way down the hall. Mustang grinned brightly like he hadn't just gotten caught sneaking out of a demerit.

“Ah, Edward,” he smiled, “glad you could make it.” The bastard continued to walk, turning Edward by his shoulders and walking him into the classroom. Ed scowled and made his way grudgingly to his seat, glaring daggers at the bastard.

“Proud of yourself?” Mustang asked, sitting down at his desk, smirk dancing on his lips. “You got a demerit on the first day of school.” Ed scowled and leaned back in his seat.

“Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in,” he said sarcastically.

“Why, you're very welcome,” replied Roy, smiling. “I'm just so very glad you could donate some of your valuable time to come today.”

“Fucking sadist,” Edward muttered.

“Yes, yes, I am very much enjoying your pain,” Roy sighed. “How absolutely horrible for you to be stuck in a classroom with someone like me.” The taunting tone of his voice coupled with the smirk finally set Edward off.

“How DARE you!” he yelled suddenly, standing up. “In all of my years at school, I've NEVER gotten a demerit until now! You want to know why? Because NONE of my teachers piss me off nearly as much as YOU!” He shook, seething for a moment before continuing. “You-- I HATE you!”


“Well,” Mustang started, still calm and collected, “I don't believe you.” Edward blinked in sheer astonishment for a moment before anger welled up in him again.

“In fact,” the man continued, leaning back in his chair and inspecting his nails, “I've never given a demerit to a student for swearing before. But you're different, Edward. I thought I ought to teach you a lesson. I can tell that your anger covers up your true feelings.” Ed felt a sudden pang of unexplained dread.

What true feelings?

“I saw how you were staring at me in class,” Mustang continued. “You looked angry on the outside, but you studied me like I can tell you don't study your books. Now tell me the truth. Do you really want to leave? Because if you say yes, truthfully, I will let you.” Rage dissipated and melted into surprise. The man was going to let him go? Why? Well, who cared? It was a way out, and no matter how stupid Mustang was for giving it to him, Ed was going to take advantage of it. He opened his mouth defiantly--

He met the man's charcoal eyes suddenly and felt their intensity burn through him and shatter his confidence. The “yes” died in his throat and was replaced by another word he did not expect (or want) to say.


Mustang smiled. “That's what I thought.”

Edward, dumbfounded, just stood there blinking at the man.

What the fuck? Why did I just say no? The man folded his hands and rested his chin upon them, observing Ed through lidded eyes.

“I- I meant yes!” he sputtered, but the triumphant look on Mustang's face told him that it was too late.

“Did you now?” A black eyebrow arching up. “Well, that's odd. Because a moment ago, you seemed pretty confident about your answer.”

“Shut UP!” Ed yelled furiously. “You-- You--” He pointed a finger, shaking in wordless rage. “Everything you say, everything you do!” The pointed finger turned into a fist slamming into the desk next to him. “Everything about you! I hate it ALL!” He stormed towards the door and Mustang's gaze did not follow him, but what he said next stopped the blonde in his tracks.

“You know, they say that there's a thin line between love and hate.” Edward froze in the doorway and paled. His eyes widened and he gripped the doorknob tighter with his left hand.

“What?” he said, voice barely audible.

“Do you want to cross that line, Edward?” Mustang practically purred, and the boy was suddenly very aware of footsteps behind him and the inability to move. A hand on his shoulder and the replay of the man's last words in his head.

Do you want to cross that line?

Oh, to hell with it.

In all honesty, he didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was because he was bored of doing nothing. Maybe his hormones finally spilled over the edge. Maybe it was a way to relieve stress, or tension. But for whatever reason, Edward Elric spun on his heels in a sudden burst of either lust or anger (he couldn't fucking tell anymore), yanked on the man's tie and kissed him.


And it was so good. Their tongues battled in mimicry of their last argument, held together this time by sheer, unadulterated lust instead of rage. It was so utterly satisfying, yet he found himself vying for more faster than he could be sated. His fingers tangled in dark hair as he pushed deeper into the kiss, desperate for more, more and more and more. The professor seemed completely unsurprised by Ed's sudden change in heart; in fact, Ed was certain he was smiling into the kiss, but in a moment he was too far gone to care. God, the man obviously knew what he was doing, indulging Edward's frantic tongue with his own, graceful strokes. A hand slid down his side to his waist, another stroking at the nape of his neck. Animalistic desire overwhelmed him; only the most basic feelings were conveyed to his lust-blurred brain.

A rough growl from Roy and his back was pushed against the wall. The pressure against Ed's spine caused him to arch up, into the man above him. Their tongues and bodies melded again, fingers digging in enough to bruise, the inability to remain still. This fierceness which he had never experienced before, it was so... delicious, for lack of a better word. But even so, fierce deliciousness was followed by fierce hunger and a fierce ache that spread from his groin all throughout his entire body, leaving a tingling of want and he was forced to break away. Roy took this as an opportunity to attach his mouth to a slender neck, and was well rewarded by a deep groan. Ed clasped on to the back of the man's head and drew it nearer.

“Fuck me,” he hissed, followed by a pant as teeth found his ear.

“Are you sure?” it was breathed. Ed screwed his eyes shut and tried to stop his head from spinning.

“Don't play with me...” he growled in a husky tone. “God, just do it...”

“Oh, do you want God to do it or me?” Roy purred, snaking fingers down in between his legs, and Edward arched frantically up to the touch. “Say my name,” it was demanded of him softly, tips of fingers stroking lightly over the bulge in his pants. “Go on, say it.”

Roy,” he pleaded in between gasps, hands scrambling on the man's back. He was rewarded by having his shirt ripped off, each button popped uselessly to the floor, then undershirt peeled away revealing sweat-slicked flesh underneath. His skin worshiped by a hot mouth and Ed arched closer with a groan, bringing his hands to the man's own chest and tearing at the fabric of his shirt feverishly. Roy shrugged it off without the barest of hesitation while deftly unbuttoning the boy's dark jeans, unzipping them and freeing his arousal, visible even through his boxers. Hands teased him to an aching hardness till he thought his cock would split, and then somehow his boxers were drawn down and tossed aside. Roy descended on the naked body below him, exploring each inch with lips and tongue and hands and fingers. Edward writhed under each touch, warmth and friction driving him insane. Fingers dug into the man's neck angrily and golden eyes rolled back.

“Don't... tease me.” It was meant to be hissed, but it came out as a groan when a tongue found one of his hardened nipples. Half lidded charcoal eyes smoldered at him as Roy's hand stroked down his abs to give Edward what he demanded. It wrapped around his straining cock and the boy stifled a scream. Blood thundered in his ears and he was sure he was either in heaven or hell, though it was becoming more hellish with each moment that passed when Roy didn't move his hand. He tried desperately to buck and create friction, but the man's grip was too tight.

“Well?” Whispered lowly into his ear, the first remark in a while.

Edward let out a wild sound then, a ragged and rough groan, a savage vocalization of his aggravation, his arousal, his lust. Then, finally, Roy's hand slid along his shaft and he knew he wasn't going to last long. He desperately tried to hold orgasm off as long as he could, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight, but it was a futile effort. He couldn't stop his hips from thrusting any more than he could stop his heart from beating. The pleasure burning inside of him, it was just too much, felt too good. After the third stroke, he came with a hoarse whine, tossing his head back, ponytail whipping around. Roy purred into his ear, tasting the shell of it before pulling back. Edward peeled his eyes open to stare blearily back at the man.

That's it? He had gotten himself this far, and damnit, he would finish it! Head still reeling from climax, he tried to form words, trying to make the man see that that was not enough, but Roy didn't notice. Finally, he gathered up the strength to feebly reach out again for him, this time grabbing for the belt masking the man's erection. He felt his own cock stir again. Roy's hand caught his wrist and fixed him with a questioning – if not disbelieving – gaze. Edward jerked his hand free.

“I tell you to fuck me and you give me a freaking hand job,” he hissed, “Maybe I should reword: I. Want. You. Inside me.” His own voice sounded so unlike him; rough, deeper, husky. Shock flickering in dark eyes and a bit of a shiver before a lazy (and somewhat hungry?) smile settled into place.

“With that kind of request, how can I refuse?” he purred.


It was an interesting position, actually. Edward sprawled naked on the floor near the door, undoing the man's pants while Roy kneeled between his spread legs. But neither had the patience for frivolence, both harboring an aching problem beetween their legs. Roy took the boy's left hand and brought it up to his lips, dragging the tip of his tongue from the base of his index finger to the tip. He groaned and his grip tightened on the man's belt as he pulled it through the loops, the wetness on a sensetive part of his body that wasn't in between his legs driving him nearly insane. Thankfully, Roy seemed to sense this, for he guided the hand back to his pants and helped it undo the button and zipper. Edward felt a grin infect his face as he did so, until it nearly split it in two when he yanked down the man's pants.


Roy took on a different personality when he was naked in the face of another. More urgent, less formal. No time was wasted as flesh came on flesh, chests sliding together, teeth scraping along his jawline, ticklishly light then bruising. His muscles tensed, tensed, then Roy turned them to butter as his fingertips slid over them. As Edward gasped, the man moaned, buried his head in Ed's shoulder. Mustang's hands never stopped moving, always roaming his body, nonstop friction. Edward soon learned to mimic him, exploring the unknown flesh of a lover's body. Their lips and tongues came together again, extracting a hitched breath on Edward's part. Roy slid his hands up the boy's arms and snaked his own fingers in between Ed's. Hand's clasped together, Mustang straddled him, naked groin against naked groin and the man couldn't help bucking. Edward broke the kiss to gasp at the sensation and was transfixed by the vision of Roy's naked hips moving against his. He clung desperately to the sweat slicked body above him, arms around neck and clawing at his back.



Do it, please just--

“Fuck me,” he groaned. “How many times are you going to make me ask?” And, miracle upon miracles, Roy stopped grinding. Now, Instant-Gratification-Horny-Edward screamed obscenities at this outrage, but Productive-Horny-Edward screamed at Instant-Gratification-Horny Edward to just quit bitching and wait because it would be better if he did. Ed's cock sided stubbornly with Instant Gratification, but Edward himself sided with the latter, having just enough common sense left in him to know that he was right. Seemingly sensing an internal struggle within the boy, Roy comforted all sides by grabbing Edward's aching cock (which he swore began to sing “Hallelujah”) and parted Ed's lips with two fingers of his other hand, the boy obediently sucking on them. Unfortunately it took longer than it needed to get them wet with all the moaning he did, but when the deed was finally done, Mustang wasted no time. He took one lubricated finger and slid it gently over Edward's entrance, letting the muscles relax enough to accept it.

He wasn't going to lie. It didn't feel good. He grimaced, split between the feelings of pleasure from a hand around his cock and the uncomfortableness of a finger up his ass. Roy was patient and gentle, however, and before he knew it, one finger was all the way in. He was adjusting slowly, pleasure overwhelming pain, or at least until he felt another finger stretching him. Edward grimaced.

This had better be as good as they say, for all this damned preparation. And just as he thought it, he knew it to be true; Roy's fingers hooked and moved in a circle and he took a frantic breath, eyes rolling back.

HARDER. His first instinctive thought. Pleasure curled into his groin, pleasure like he'd never felt before. Teeth nibbling affectionately at his ear again. A third finger added without consequence. Roy pressed again and he sobbed outright. His hips thrust instinctively back, but he knew that he didn't want just fingers. He wanted Roy.

“I... I need...” He wasn't able to complete his plea as another wave of pleasure overcame him, cutting him off with a sharp gasp.

“Just fucking take me already!” he grated out, becoming thoroughly impatient. “I'm ready – AH! -- please!” Finally the fingers slid free of him, hand leaving his cock in favor of urging the boy onto his knees. He complied without a second thought, body aching with need. A moment of breathing, a hand gingerly laid on his shoulder.

“OK?” Edward closed his eyes.



Heat and pressure on his ass. He moaned despite himself, the head of Roy's cock sliding past the ring of muscle. Screwing up his face, he forced himself to relax.

“Good, Edward.” Moaned from behind him. Kneading on his hips. “Just relax... That's the worst...” Further in. His body wanted to reflexively tighten, but he held it off, knowing the man wouldn't appreciate it. It hurt, yes, but he didn't care. He wanted it too badly.

Each inch seemed to take forever, but soon, he felt the man's naked thighs against his butt and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

“My God,” it was whispered from behind him. A sweaty, trembling palm was smoothed over his stomach, sending shivers down his spine as the man's stomach molded with his back. The groan behind him vibrated all the way through the Mustang's frame to his. A gentle thrust and pressure on a certain spot inside his body.

Edward's eyes popped wide and he moaned.

“Again,” he demanded breathlessly, common sense and coherency rapidly draining. “Again!” One arm splayed outward and one propping him up at the elbow, he whined and bucked backwards, forcing the man's cock to hit that spot inside of him that drove sparks of pleasure up his spine. All he could think of was how much he wanted that again, harder, faster--

Too many words to convey his needs. Another thrust and his body decided on a keening whimper, throwing in a tremor. His body began to warn him violently that it needed, so his outstretched hand migrated down to his own hardness, but Mustang snatched it away.

“Mine,” he said roughly, gripping it. Ed nearly screamed out a sob and ground backwards as hard as he could.

Pleasure like nothing he'd ever felt before, not even from this encounter, each fiber of his body aching to be brought to completion. Roy pounded into him, chin on his shoulder, stroking his cock and murmuring, moaning, begging into his ear. He felt climax building inside of him, his fingers digging into his palm as Roy's free hand stroked up and down his splayed arm. Each thrust drove him nearer to climax, each word from the lips perched on his shoulder pushed him further towards ecstacy, and it was so good, so fucking good...

His toes curled and he arched violently as he came, teeth gritted and letting out a wordless groan. Two more thrusts and Roy released as well, warmth blossoming in him, not the most pleasant sensation, but considering the orgasm he just had, he was willing to overlook that, plus pretty much anything else that happened in the next few hours. He collapsed finally, shuddering as his body wrung out each tiny drop of residual pleasure from his veins. The man lay on his side next to Edward, crooning things into his ear like, “that was so good,” and “you were amazing.” They lay like that for a few minutes, Edward's head in the man's chest and Roy stroking his stomach, before the boy sat up with a (decidedly nonsexual) groan. The reality of the situation hit him with an uncomfortable suddenness, and a blush spread over his features.

“Alphonse'll be waiting,” he muttered. “My brother,” he added quickly, remembering that the man didn't know who Al was. Roy sighed and hauled himself off the ground, eying the strewn clothes.

“I think the showers are still on,” Roy offered. “If you want to clean up.” Edward shook his head and began to pick through the piles, finding two sets of identical boxers.

“Apparently we have the same taste in underwear,” he remarked. “Which ones are yours?” Roy shrugged casually, Edward noticed, as if they hadn't just had sex, or if they didn't just do it in his classroom.

“Which ones are smaller? They're probably yours. And I know that for a fact, now.” Edward, not having the stamina or brainpower to think of a proper retort, simply stuck his tongue out.


“'M home!” he called. “Going upstairs to take a nap.” Dumping his school bag onto the green couch next to the door, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, walking towards the staircase.

“Where were you?” Edward stopped, nearly walking into his brother, who was blocking the stairs with hands on hips.


“Just an afterschool thing,” he lied quickly. Alphonse didn't look convinced.

“I can't believe a teacher made you stay after on the first day!” he exclaimed. “You're always getting yourself into trouble!”

“I've never gotten a demerit in my life until now!” Edward retorted, then quickly shut his mouth.

“A demerit!” Al exclaimed, waving his arms in the air. “What for!”

“Nothing!” he snapped. “C'mon, I need a nap!”

“More like a shower,” Al scoffed, but he got out of his brother's way. “You stink.” Edward thankfully ran up the stairs into his bedroom, fatigue quickly catching up with him as his head hit the pillow.