The Binary Alchemist (binaryalchemist) wrote in fm_alchemist,
The Binary Alchemist


By binaryalchemist
Rating: NC-17 for adult content, yaoi and language. This chapter NSF!
Parings: Roy/Ed, past Hughes/Roy, Alphonse/A Cast of Thousands,Winry/Pitt Renback from the FMA novel “Under The Faraway Sky”
SPOILERS: post manga, stand-alone story from the Half Lives ‘verse
SUMMARY: On a lonely Solstice night, Alphonse cheers Roy up with a challenge: "You've never told me about the men in your life. What about Brother? What about Hughes?" And the best stories begin with the words, " sh*t, there I was..."
THIS CHAPTER:  As a young alchemy student, Roy got his hands on a copy of  “The Way Of The White Dragon”—a  illicit manual on erotic Tantric Alchemy so detailed and explicit that the Central Library kept their copy in a locked vault . Aside from increasing his transmutative powers, it changed his love life forever…especially once he discovers that Ed’s read the same banned book.

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By The Binary Alchemist  2013

           “Lock the goddamn door, will you?”
           A President-Elect—hell, even a General in the army—is never really alone. I had Sebastian smiling and pouring coffee with a garroting wire in his pocket and daggers up his sleeve. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if his signet ring concealed a dose of cyanide. His job was to keep people from getting too close to me who had no business getting too close to me. Hopefully he would knock before kicking down the door to be sure I wasn’t being assaulted without my consent.
           And damn, was I consenting.
           “I wanna see you.”
           It was an easy thing to light the emergency candle lantern on the night stand—electricity in Central isn’t the most reliable when there’s ice on the power lines in winter. No longer needing an array after my encounter with Truth, I still needed a Pyrotex glove to create a spark. It jumped easily off my fingertips and onto the candle wick,
           Before I could lie back, he impatiently tugged off my pajama top, not even bothering to unbutton it. His thumbs dug under the waistband and he yanked awkwardly, bending me briefly in a manner that was painful enough to soften me a bit.
           As soon as he stretched out on top of me, though, I was rock hard again, and I whispered for him to lift his hips enough to strip off the bottom half of his nightwear. Soon as he had kicked free of his clothes I lifted my knees and spread my thighs and he settled down into my arms, mouth to mouth, cock to cock.
           Strange…it was so strange that he would touch me like this, making low growls of pleasure as he shifted his chest back and forth, his nipples brushing against my own, the hard ridge of his cock digging into my belly. When he came up for air, he must have noticed the slightly puzzled look on my face.
           “The Way Of The White Dragon. I found a copy of it when I was twelve.”
           Only an alchemist would interrupt the act of love to discuss theories and books.
           If he hadn’t been on top of me I’d have fallen out of bed. “How the hell did you get your hands on---“
           “Tucker had a copy. Guess it didn’t occur to him that I’d find it when I was studying for my exams. Maybe he thought I was too damn young to understand it—but I did. And when I asked Teacher about it, she told me it was true and not to be worried about it.”
           The Way Of The White Dragon. So that was it.
           One of the great secrets of alchemy adepts and great masters is that humans may have male or female bodies—but an alchemic master embraces both within himself “The way of enlightenment seeks the balance within oneself of all opposites in mind and soul and body.”
           In other words—the great masters of alchemy were pansexual. They knew themselves to be a blending of all things and loved as they would without shame.
           As soon as Master Hawkeye met me he suspected that I had some concerns about being attracted to men as well as women. An adept himself, he understood and explained that this was not uncommon—in fact, it was often a character trait in the most powerful of alchemists.
           He allowed me to read the Way Of The White Dragon—then told me to lay it aside and get on with my life and not to worry about it.
           Now I understood. Edward and I had been taught that there were no boundaries of sex or gender in alchemy---or in love.
           He was smiling now, rocking against my belly. His hand swept across my chest. “You okay with this?”
           I knew what he wanted. I smiled back at him. “I have seen the Dragon…I have walked through the Gate from the Tree of Life. I have eaten in gratitude and have drunk in wisdom. All has been seen, even when hidden. Unto me the One Stone is given.”
           My arms and legs wrapped around him. For the first time, he said my name as if it mattered to him.
           Do you know what it means to surrender control to another person? Me—gamesman that I am, the master manipulator? Only once in my life have I ever let down my guard to let another person…to let someone jolt me out of my own head and push me past the brink, even in the most intimate moments. That person was Maes Hughes. In the end, that trust and love  cost me more pain than I like to think about, but it was worth it.
           I was ready to trust Edward—and he was ready to trust me.

           Amazing how sensitive the human body can be. Just the faintest brush of the edge of my tongue across the very tip of his nipples made his breath catch in his throat. It was like he’d never been caressed before by someone who understood the subtleties of pleasure. He was unconsciously arching his neck in invitation, and a sucking bite and a hiss of warm breath raised the goosepimples all over his body. Traveling upwards, I licked gently along the rim of his ear and he yelped and panted, not expecting his nerve endings to be triggered in such unexpected ways.
           He had energy. I had experience. I wanted to be careful not to push him too far, or he might not last long—that was the only thing that kept me from flipping him on his back and pulling him into my mouth.
           To my surprise, he slowed himself down and his mouth found its way back to mine again. His first kisses were awkward, rather like being gnawed at, but he was good at following my lead and had gotten the hang of it very quickly. So well, in fact, that his belly was quite slick from the small bursts of moisture he was coaxing from my now-neglected cock.  We had been rubbing against one another, up to this point, but now he stilled, catching his breath. I knew what he wanted and every nerve in my body was screaming for him to get on with it—but this wasn’t about me. It was about us.
           “Do you have anything…?”
           “Lotion. Top drawer.”
           ‘Is that gonna work for--”
           “—yeah. It’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.”
           I put it on the nightstand within easy reach. He would tell me when he was ready for it.
           Blunt fingers skimmed down my chest, traced the fine trail of dark hair down. They lingered at my navel, just above the tip, and he seemed surprised how wet I was. “Is that from you or from me?”
           My own fingers slid down and squeezed. They brushed across his lips. “This is from me.” His lips parted and I pushed them in. He sucked them, almost thoughtfully. “Hmmm?”
           “Tastes…like…me…but different. You smell good.” Bolder now, he slid down until his face hovered above me. He glanced up. “Never done this. To anybody.”
           I caught his meaning. “Do you want to? It’s okay if you don’t.”
           His answer was a tentative kiss along my shaft. He kissed me again and touched the very tip with his forefinger. “It’s purple. I like the veins. Would…would it fit okay?”
           “Yeah. I promise. Later, if you want to.”
           He nodded. “Let’s see how this goes.” He sucked the moisture off his finger, thought about it for a moment. Then he swallowed about a third of my shaft and when the head hit the back of his throat I had to grab the headboard to keep from clutching his head.
           He must have satisfied all doubts about it, because he was now pulling me hard with his lips, his hand tight on my shaft. I felt my balls tighten and instinctively hooked a hand under each knee, spreading myself wide, inviting his touch. He responded by slipping a hand under my balls and gently rubbing my entrance, all the while trying to work the end of his tongue under the rim of my foreskin, circling the crown and bringing me dangerously close to bursting in his mouth.
           “Not yet,” I warned him and he backed off. “Here.”
           He took the bottle, but laid it to one side. He was studying my body with an expression I couldn’t read, forehead puckering a little as if solving a problem or trying to reach a decision.
           When his tongue slid down and in, I knew that decision was the right one.
           He glanced up at me again, as if he couldn’t quite believe he had done it. “Is…is that good?”
           I stroked his hair. “Let me show you.”
           He shook his head. He wanted no distractions, and I can honestly say that never in my life has any lover ever touched me with such concentration and concern. He wanted this to be good for me. How often can you say this about a man in bed? We are selfish bastards, all of us, by nature. Edward’s hands moved over my cock and my balls and my inner thighs, between my cheeks, cupping and stroking and learning me. He nuzzled the fine curls at my groin, rubbing his face against me. His hair brushed against my inner thighs and it felt nearly as wonderful as his tongue.
           He sucked hard, prying me open, humming the same way he had when he was in the bath and snuggling drunkenly against me. My hand squeezed his shoulder.
           “It’s…tight. I gotta…what is it, one finger, two fingers—“
           “—three fingers, dick---is that what you’ve heard?” He nodded. “It’s been a long time, but no. I’m ready.”
           I took him in my hand and coated him with the thick hand lotion. “Rub it,” I whispered harshly. “Rub against me. When I relax…you’ll feel it. Take it slow and steady, and keep going until…”
           He licked his lips nervously. “Until what?”
           “Until,” I pulled my knees close to my chest. “You fill me up.”
           There was a strangled half-sob of raw hunger and I felt him press against me, one shaking hand rubbing and circling with the tip until he had breached me. He stiffened and bit his lip.
           And it was slow and steady and it burned and it was bliss and my heart was pounding so hard I thought my ribs would crack. He sank to the hilt and I squeezed him tight inside me, my ankles now resting on his shoulders. “Keep going,” I gasped. ‘Hard!”
           And he did, his head falling back as his hips snapped hard against me, the rich smell of his sweat and machine oil and musk and damp hair filling my senses. There was the soft, wet sound of him plunging in and out of me, the slap of his balls against my ass and my own cries and shouts of pleasure, urging him on and on and on.
           Each time he filled me up he was stripping off another layer of my obsessive self control. Each time he pulled back and looked down into my face his smile grew wider, as if he were waking up and coming back to himself.
           I was jerking frantically at my own cock, and when his fingers curled around to join them I burst, hoarse from shouting his name, over and over, coming so hard I could taste the hot splash when it rained across my chest and over my chin and lips. I yanked him down into a deep kiss and he sobbed, bit my lower lip and the heat spread inside me…

           ….and I woke up, wet and terrified. I was biting my pillow and the sheets were a mess.

           A week later he was on an eastbound train. If he had heard me that night—or in the nights that followed—he never mentioned it. But in those days that followed Solstice we were at ease with one another as we had never been before in our lives.
           He went back to Resembool. There was another child—a girl he named Nina after Shou Tucker’s lost daughter.  Winry, I learned years later, had thought that another offspring might bring them closer together. A terrible burden to place on an innocent child, she later came to understand…but they were young, those two. Neither of them had anything near to a normal childhood or adolescence.  They had thought that friendship and custom and expectation was enough to build a life upon.
           Ed needed more. In time, so did Winry.
           When he returned to my house one early winter’s morning, he finally unpacked his suitcase. From that day to this, his hairbrush is still on my—our—dresser, right beside mine. That’s as it should be.
           The first Solstice after their divorce, Izumi summoned us all to Dublith for a family holiday. Ed and Winry found that they could be kind to one another, and the children basked in the warmth of much loving attention from us all, including me.
           We were lying in our bedroom under a pile of handmade quilts and Ed propped himself up on one elbow, grinning down at me. “Not the worst Solstice, I gotta say.”
           “Oh hell no, not by a long shot.”
           He looked curious. “Oh? What’s the worst Solstice you ever spent? Was it me throwing up all over your carpet and you jerking off in the guest room?”
           I smoothed his hair back from his forehead, “That was one of my better Solstices, idiot. Now,” I settled him against my chest in the dark, “the worst Solstice in the history of my life—not counting the Dahlia Campaign in Ishbal—had to have been just before Hughes and I went into the field as junior officers. He was writing to this girl named Gracia and was not as keen on blowjobs and handjobs as he used to be—I think he was feeling guilty about sleeping with me. Hell, I know he was. Anyway, Hughes got this idea that maybe what I really needed was a good lay, and when we got on the Eastern border we swiped a jeep one night and headed for the wrong side of town.
           “No shit—there I was….”

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