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Sing Me To Sleep	By : OceanCrossing Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 551 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sing Me To Sleep
- 1
Disclaimer: These
characters belong to Arakawa-sensei, and I wouldn�t dream of claiming them as
my own or making any money off of them.
Notes: Well, Jill had no
part in this one � it�s all me, probably one of the only fics
I�ll be posting in our account.� Unbetaed, sorry! I�ve always thought Ling was one of the
most complicated characters in the Hagaren-verse, but
I did my best not to slaughter him.
-Ame-
Sing Me To Sleep
The bed is never big
enough. Ling wakes to find himself tangled in blond
and sinew, a mess that takes ten minutes to straighten out. Edward reasons that
the process would be much quicker were he not feigning slumber. He coaxes his
lips away from a smile while Ling grumbles and settles back into the mattress.
Ed lies sprawled on his
stomach as the press of cotton sheets forms creases on his cheek. Ling is turned
away from him now and Ed stares at the man through slitted
eyes, listening as his breathing grows deep. He traces the flesh
fingers of his right hand gently across Ling�s back, playing connect the
dots. The spasm of his lover�s muscles triggers a grin. It�s Ling�s turn to
pretend to be asleep.
Dust drifts in and out of
sunbeams that slip through the curtains. Ed wrinkles his nose and pulls a
pillow over his head while Ling snakes an arm to the floor to grab his pants.
He slips them on beneath the sheets.
Thirteen minutes later,
Ling�s side of the bed is cold and Edward needs something more interesting to
look at than the ceiling. Besides, there�s a song stuck in his head that he
can�t remember. Ed pulls on a shirt, and braids his hair on the way to the
kitchen. When walks in, he�s humming loud enough to make his lips vibrate.
Ling is beaming at him
over a table covered with sugar, salt, butter, flour, eggs, milk � Ed adds the
ingredients in his head and sighs. �Make your own damn breakfast,� he grouses,
rubbing sleep from his eyes. He�s already pulling out a bowl, though, because
Ed has learned that Ling is only a good cook when he wants to be.
Ed leans back against the
stove as he swirls a wooden spoon through the thickening batter. Ling�s
attention is focused on their wall calendar. After flipping through the months,
he plucks up one of the pens that, like Ed�s notes, are strewn all over the
house. He doesn�t notice Ed�s lifted eyebrow until he�s ringed one number in
red.
My birthday, Ling proclaims, flourishing the
pen. Ed snorts and returns to pounding the batter, more vigorously than before.
Ling almost feels sorry for the spoon.
After Edward has the first
batch of pancakes on the griddle, Ling starts to sing. The tune matches the one
Ed had been humming when he entered, but this time it joins with lyrics that he
can�t understand. But he does recognize a phrase once in a while, for this is
the language whose words Ling will shout in the throes of passion, or whisper
when he can tell that Ed�s not really sleeping.
Ling is not a talented
singer, but he�s passable. Ed doesn�t tell him how comforting that voice has
become, and Ling never says that he already knows.
The song ends with the
slap of a pancake hitting the floor, accompanied by a hearty swear from Ed.
Ling grabs a knife and slices it open. The flapjack is slightly raw in the
center, but otherwise edible. Edward performs a double take when he sees Ling
reaching for a fork as well. �What the hell do you think you�re doing?�
Ling slices off a large piece
and lifts it to his mouth. Just cleaned the floor a week ago, he says
while chewing.
�And you fucked me there
on Wednesday!� Ed objects, grimacing in disgust.
With a shrug, Ling shovels
up what remains of the pancake and dumps it onto his plate, drowning it in a
swamp of maple syrup. Ed shudders and vows to take greater care the next time
he uses a spatula.
It isn�t until Ed has
started on the fourth batch that Ling rises from the table to join him. The
brunette sweeps a finger around the edge of the mixing bowl while his other
hand slips behind Ed�s back to sneakily remove his hair tie. �What?� Ed asks
sharply. He hasn�t eaten yet and if Ling thinks he�s some kind of slave, or
worse, a housewife, Ed is going to�
But Ling only grins and
pops a batter-coated finger between his lips.
By the time breakfast
draws to a close, Ling has managed to swipe another pancake despite Edward�s
best efforts to guard his plate. The prince has been watching strands of gold
slowly unravel over the last half hour, Sunday morning�s idle entertainment.
Ed lets out a shout when
his hair slips over his shoulder and onto his plate. He glares at the sticky
strands for a moment, fuming. Ling whistles softly and leans his chair back on
two legs, repressing a laugh. Edward�s sudden devious expression is unexpected,
however; Ling barely has time to prepare himself
before the blonde dives across the table to knock him off his chair.
Ed�s legs are snugger than
any belt around Ling�s waist, and it�s more than syrup that cements their mouths
together.� A searching tongue sweeps
around Ling�s own and over his teeth.�
His breaths come short and sharp through his nose.� Slow down, Ling tries to say, but
Edward Elric is a force of nature, wild and
unstoppable.
Ed doesn�t even bother
with their pants; he pins his prey to the floor and grinds his hips
downward.� Ling can�t help straining up
to meet him halfway.� The back of his
skull hits the floor - he thinks he might be pulling a muscle in his neck - but
there�s an ache that overwhelms any other and focuses his attention between
their pelvises.� It�s barely started
before Ling is tipping over the edge, his lover following soon after.
Edward stalks off to take
a shower without a word. He leaves Ling on the floor, back bruised and
beginning to ache, wondering what hit him. It isn�t until he gets into the
shower himself that Ling finally understands.
When Alphonse comes to
visit that evening, Ling drags him to the bathroom and persuades him to
transmute the shampoo back into something more recognizable. Ed listens to the
water running with his head in his brother�s lap and pouts over the ruination
of his plot, muttering about learning not to indulge stupid princes. Al just
smiles as he drags his human fingers soothingly through Edward�s hair.
They allow Ling to carry
the conversation after he returns. He perches on the arm of the couch and talks
about When I�m Emperor while Ed secretly wonders how much it matters
anymore, wonders if he can find a way to make it not matter.
�I�m selfish,� Ed tells Al
before he leaves.
Alphonse just laughs a
little. �Impossible,� he says warmly.
Ed knows that his brother
is wrong, but that doesn�t stop him from pulling Ling into the bedroom once the
door closes. Their pace is languid now. Ling draws his tongue along the line of
Edward�s neck, and this time the blonde is the one letting down his lover�s
hair. Ling�s teeth nip lightly at Ed�s collarbone, while the other man worships
his chest with a warm and willing pair of hands.� Ed begins to wonder why he wears such tight
pants � his growing erection is already far too confined for his liking � but he
forgets to care when Ling grins from between his legs, his devilish savior.
Ed�s not entirely sure
what happens next, but he can imagine. All he can hope to do now is imagine. Because outside of his fantasies, Edward Elric
is not unstoppable. Because the rush of longing that tingled out from
his chest and swept into the metal finger of his shaking hand as he steeled himself
to shoot was overthrown by a single shout.
Don�t butt in, don�t
butt in, don�t butt in�
The images come to him in
dreams, and in dreams alone he can live. It�s only in the waking world that every
time he speaks Ling�s name, an unfamiliar voice answers coolly, �It�s Greed.�
- 1
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Sing Me To Sleep