[Author] Mara D
[Series] Fullmetal Alchemist
[Spoilers?] Yes. If you don't know who Scar or Lust are, do not read. There is sex. Heterosexual sex. It's a bit strange, and I can't really place exactly when it might have happened, so let us just call it AU and be happy.
[Chatter] This is for theladyfeylene who wanted a LustxScar. Thanks babe! this was a blast to write, in a creepy sort of way. A bit long, but I didn't think you would complain.
She half-circled him curiously, smooth gate slightly stilted with her suspicion. She had smelled blood, had followed him through the back alleys of Central. And here he was. Crouched in an abandoned apartment, a fox unmoving in scrub, listening for the hound. She was the hound. And she had him bayed.
It wasn’t like he could kill her, but that didn’t mean she trusted him
There was something about him, something that appealed to her in a way that she had not expected. It wiped the dust off fuzzy memories, and they were threatening to surface like fish on a line. A few ripples at a time at first.
She feared when it would break over her, when the memories would surface, glistening, wriggling, struggling. The recollections of who she used to be. The memories that she both did and didn’t want more than the next breath she didn’t require to survive.
Some said that homunculus were not human. Maybe they weren’t. But they could still hurt. They still could bled and ache and struggle alongside humanity. Sometimes to destroy it. Alchemists seemed to think that all homunculi were evil. Lust wasn’t so sure. She didn’t want to destroy the world, she didn’t want chaos, although she would use it to achieve her ends.
All she wanted was to be a real human being again, and perhaps that had warped her. Perhaps that had twisted her mind a bit. A mind that she knew was formed by the red stone, and pitted against her mistress in a battle she hoped to win.
But as she looked at him, as something stirred low in her stomach and high between her ribs, she began to think again how wonderful it would be. To be human, how her goal was worth it. How she wanted to love again…
Had she loved before? Surely she had…they had named her Lust after all, although she wasn’t quite certain why. Well, according to humans, love and lust were two different entities, but Lust herself was not so sure about that. Emotions were not so clean cut. Sin and salvation weren’t either.
She hadn’t felt anything like this before…an urge to be with…to touch…to feel.
Something about his crimson eyes, his sun kissed golden skin. She wanted to lap the blood away from his wounded arm, bathe his body in her touch. To let him inside her, where she had let no one that she could remember, in this body, in this time.
There was a broadness in his shoulders and chest that were unfamiliar, but the way he watched her. It was the same.
The same as what?
He was bleeding still, leaning up against the wall of the abandoned apartment with a patience that was eerie. A man quietly above and beyond his body, but not the torment of his mind.
“You are…” He began slowly, his voice a rumble in the stillness of the empty air, echoing against bare walls and off the cracked ceiling. “That woman.”
She didn’t like that he was bleeding on the floor. Some part of her deep down, the part of her that knew things that Lust did not, objected to the injury.
“Humans…you are so disgusting.” She said lowly.
Her words were self defense. A way to push aside, to punish the part of her that wanted to help. She had learned her lesson with Lujon, had she not?
“You are an abomination. I am human, but I am an emissary of God. Come closer. I will set you free.” He said, raising his hand.
Her eyes followed the tattoo up Scar’s arm wearily. The man knew she was no fool, but he firmly believed that the truth would draw her to him. Perhaps it would. But not in the way he was thinking.
“I would let you, if it would work.” She said quietly.
“All beings must die someday. It is the way of God.” He replied to her coldly.
Lust smiled and knelt, the slit of her skirt rising high enough to show the top of her thigh, almost to the hip. The fabric whispered, the sound hushed, like velvet on marble.
“I am a bit out of god’s jurisdiction.” She said smoothly. “I once was human, but that part of me is dead.” She said quietly. “And try as I might, I can never have it back without the knowledge I seek.”
This man, this “Scar” was not as thick as he seemed. She realized that now as ruby eyes followed her every move. He was mad, a fanatic, a twisted and warped mind. But he had a brave and noble heart, and he was intelligent.
“I see.” The man said. “I remember you for who you were, not as you are now. What part of you houses the soul of the woman I once knew?” He asked her quietly.
Lust couldn’t help the look of frustration and pain, of raw humanity that crossed her visage and made the Ishbalite in front of her blink in surprise.
“I do not know.” She said quietly. “It is a secret inside of me. Kept from me. I cannot justify my existence, but then again, neither could my creator. I do not know these things…”
/But I know you./
She wouldn’t give that secret away. Not yet. It was hers and she guarded it jealously.
She leaned forward then, resting one hand to the ground, and tested her luck. She was a homunculus after all, they were curious and intelligent beings by nature. She reached out to that hand, the hand that Scar was holding out towards her in a defensive posture.
She dared him, brushing her fingertips across his palm slowly. His gaze never left her face, unwavering and really very untroubled. She was pressing against his defenses, and he was tolerating it for some strange reason. It wasn’t quite what he was suspecting. There was a tingle there, against his palm, something threatening to break her calm, the ripples of memory widening until she fell with a gasp.
/A touch of skin and a rush of pleasure, sweat and the smooth sliding of skin on skin, sliding inside of her, bright and sharp and sweet. She arched her back, threw her head back, warmth washing inside of her as she leaned against thin but powerful shoulders…/
She could hardly breathe when she was aware again, and a bit startled. She had blanked out for a moment, and he could have killed her (Not that it mattered, but it was inconvenient.). Instead, he was frozen, a look of shock and…aching longing on his face.
She jerked her touch back from him then. When ambushed, the only option was not to hesitate, to strike first.
And so she pulled away, and he blinked at her. She was suddenly angry at him, angry at the ache between her legs that tugged all the way up into her stomach every time she looked at him.
She had lost the upper hand, she knew suddenly…feeling the wetness on the inside of her thighs.
It didn’t bother her, alarm her. She was a homunculus, and chastity was far from important, though sex was something she knew little about in this form. It had never interested her. She knew how to use her body to seduce, but never, never had she let anyone touch her. Not like that. She had always served death swiftly with a claw before it came to that.
All men wanted her, although she honestly, deeply did not know why.
Scar was pushing himself up and away from the wall then, and she found that as much as she wanted to stand, to move away, her legs would not hold her. Instead she stared at him, and couldn’t help feeling vulnerable behind her anger.
He knelt beside her, no real fear in his expression, although a bit of longing, and deep and keen interest.
Neither of them had hurt the other, and neither of them would. That much was obvious now. They were circling each other now mentally, emotionally. They had both moved past their normal defenses, their normal response to threat.
She finally managed to push herself to her feet, trying to get the upper hand by position alone, and took a shaky step backward. He reached out, catching her wrist in a hand that could have spanned the delicate bones twice. Strong, but surprisingly not aggressive.
The other reached out, brushing the inside of her thigh just below the slit in her skirt. His fingers came away slick.
He glanced at her curiously, a bit of hunger there too. He was a man, after all.
“What?” He asked her quietly.
And she found she had no real answer.
There was a faint trembling in his hand then, where it held hers.
She watched him take a slow and shaky breath, overcoming the pain of an injury, and no doubt, struggling for control of his body.
“I am a man of God.” He said quietly. “I am not allowed this.”
“I am not human.” She said quietly. “I am not allowed this either.”
He let go of her wrist, and she stalked around him again. This time, his eyes followed her, an almost innocent hunger in them. One that she wasn’t certain he was aware of.
“What am I to you?” She asked, trying to ignore the aching in her belly.
“My brother’s wife.” He answered lowly.
“I was a woman then? Truly a woman, and once I existed?” She asked him dully, trying to sound disinterested even though she found that he held the key to things she needed desperately.
“You’re a monster now.”
“You are in love with the form of a monster.” She shot back.
He glanced at his fingers.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply lusted for you.”
She looked into his eyes then, a darker shade of crimson, nearly to the point of heart’s blood in depth and facet.
“Perhaps.” She said quietly, finally giving in to herself, pressing her luck, her limits, her dedication to herself and duties. “But even if I am just to be lusted for, at least I serve some purpose.” She said softly. “I have some use then, do I not?”
She moved closer to him again, so close that she was standing in the V between his knees.
She rested her hands on his shoulders, her touch surprising her with its care.
She didn’t care if his arm was bleeding anymore.
She leaned down, baring her slim and graceful throat to him just before she pressed their lips together.
His hand came up, closing around her throat, a reflexive gesture. For a moment she thought he might snap her neck, strangle her, push her away. But he did not. After an even tenser moment, the slightly chapped lips beneath hers parted, the hand at her throat loosened, and curious fingers began to caress the cool and silky skin there.
When his tongue slipped into her mouth, her knees betrayed her.
He pulled her into those powerful arms, his blood wetting her forearm and dripping down skin exposed by the low cut back of her dress, and she shuddered.
He was shaking, his breathing becoming heavier.
“It is a sin.” He said quietly when they broke apart.
She rained kisses across the scar on his forehead, across his temples and he quivered beneath her when she brushed her leg against the hardness forming in his pants.
“To kill is a sin.” She said quietly. “For any reason. To swear, to gamble, even with your own life. Suicide is a sin…I am one of the seven deadliest…and yet…all sin is equal in god’s eyes.”
He narrowed crimson at her again.
“Don’t quote God to me, you are an abomination.” He said lowly.
“I once wasn’t.” She murmured as she slid her hands down his shredded shirt and bloodied chest, making his breath hitch.
“You once loved me.” She said quietly. “It is an emotion that I can never have back, but I will accept Lust in her place. It is all I have. And you cannot kill me, you know this.” She demanded. “Than at least give me some peace this night.”
Her hands undid his fly, and they were trembling as she did so, as his need sprang free, proud and thick.
She wasn’t quite sure what she should do, and she knew now without question, the way he touched her that he was as innocent in body as she was in this form. It couldn’t be that difficult to take charge. And she wanted, for some strange reason, to please him.
He was staring at her, a bit of fear now, hungry like a man, the feral cat trapped in his crimson eyes. All men had this look when their bodies talked loudly. When they lusted.
She pressed him back to the floor, and he went, with a ripple of muscle and shaking thighs, his need twitching without his permission. She smiled, hiking up her dress before covering him with herself and the fabric, her thighs on either side of his hips. His hands came up to guide her, although the expression on his face was one of self loathing. He couldn’t say no to her either, any more than she really could have to him.
She lowered herself until she could feel him, nudging her entrance, sliding in her wetness.
He made a sound that was surprisingly vulnerable, a pleading whine.
She thrust him into herself hard, and pain blossomed up her spine, made her toes curl in her high heeled shoes. Something inside of her had torn, and she gasped in surprise when the shock wore off enough that she could draw breath again.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered lowly, suddenly cupping her face, pulling her to his chest. He didn’t know why he was sorry, she knew, but he was. She was sort of sorry too. Sorry for the pain, sorry suddenly for forcing this on him. He was taking it with the grace of a man, the care of a heart that was bigger than he ever admitted.
“Don’t be.” She gritted.
“Hold tightly.” He said, moving her hands to his shoulders as he rolled them both over.
She grunted again as he shifted inside her, as she felt blood run down her leg to mingle with his on the stained patch of carpet they had fallen to.
When he moved, she almost cried out, but her gaze never left those crimson eyes, he himself was groaning, his body moving reflexively, muscles rippling as he pulled out, pushed back in. At first it was nothing but pain, and gasping breaths, but as she relaxed, as he became familiar with the rhythm of his body, the pain eased, and a burning ache took its place.
/The slid of tanned skin on skin…sweat and the smell of incense, heady with scent of sex and blood, he apologized, holding her tightly through the pain, making it better with touches and quieting kisses. The motion of his body against hers, familiar…familiar. A body not as broad, thinner, more beautiful but with eyes just the same.
“Always” He whispered. “I will always protect you.”/
There was no longer the rub of silk sheets made in Xing, there was no longer the glow of candlelight and a wedding chalice on an ornate table. Instead it was an empty apartment building in a crumbling portion of Central City. The man above her was not her lover, not /that/ man, though they looked much the same. He was not kissing her sweetly…but who could kiss a monster…
Her vision dimmed, and the tension that had been building within her released so violently she arched her back with a moan.
He was quickly following her, a few jerks of his hips and he was throbbing within her, collapsing to her gasping.
Reflexively, as she found her way back to this time, to this place, she found her fingers tangling in his hair, playing along the sheared short sides and twisting in the slightly sun bleached white on the top.
Nothing could have driven home harder the point of who she could never be again, or about how she wanted to try.
His eyes were taking her in softly, an almost tender look on his face.
“I’ve never.” He said softly.
“Not in this form.” She said quietly.
“I have sinned.” He said, his eyes not really all that guilty.
“No you have not, I am the most deadly. I took your sin into myself. I am your absolution. The next time we meet, I could be your damnation.” She said, eyes very serious.
“I expected it.” He said lowly.
“For now.” She said softly. “For now I will stay the night with you. I will absolve you of everything.”
There was silence for a moment.
“But then what will I be fighting for?” He asked her.
The point hit home.
“The same thing I do, brother of my husband. Fight for your right to be human, to feel, to exist. I understand now.” She said quietly as she wriggled out from under him.
He let her.
She did not bother to wipe his wetness and her blood from the insides of her thighs. Instead she just adjusted her dress, and ran her fingers through her hair.
“Your faith is your sin.” She said quietly. “And there is no absolution from belief. You will fall before me.” She softly,
“Of that.” He said lowly. “I am certain.”
He hadn’t even finished his sentence before she was gone.