The Day Alfons Lost His Wings | By : jenniferdarknight Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 781 -:- 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. |
Title: The Day Alfons Lost his Wings
Pairing: EdxAngel!Alfons
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/fluff/sap/smut/humor/crack…a
little bit of everything.
Timeline:
Post-movie…sort of.
Note: This was
written as a late Valentine’s Gift for a friend in February 2007, and was the
first porn I’ve ever written.
Warning: Yaoi,
Angel!sex. If this squicks you, RUN AWAY.
Disclaimer: FMA
is not mine. I just use the characters for my amusement sometimes.
Summary: For a
man who didn’t believe in God, Ed sure as hell bitched at him a lot…especially
after Alfons died. God couldn’t take it anymore—he had to shut him up for good.
For a man who didn’t believe in God, Edward sure as
hell bitched at him a lot. When he was a kid, it was about his brother being
stuck in a suit of armor (but it wasn’t God’s fault that they messed with Human
Alchemy…the Gate got really anal retentive when God decided to cross into her
territory and help those who she screwed over). When he grew older it was of a
multitude of things—a lot of them having to do with the sick joy he must have
had in watching him fall in love with someone who looked like his baby brother
(honestly, that was more Michael’s department than his—God was too busy protecting said baby brother to really
pay attention to what Ed did with his other self)…and then a few years after
that, the man practically gave him death
threats because he had to take Alfons home to heaven.
…The poor Creator had to assign a few angels just to
handle Ed’s onslaught of messages, and had almost went to killing him to get
him to just shut up already. Then he
remembered that Ed would continually nag him to watch his brother and make sure
that Roy Mustang didn’t molest him (which was a full-time job, even as it stood
now), and Trisha wouldn’t like it too much if her son was sent to Hell (next to
Izumi Curtis, she was a frightening woman when it came to her
children…)…especially for so frivolous a reason.
But the Creator had to do something. He had to do something to shut Ed up for good, or else
his poor sanity was in jeopardy…and he had thought that it wasn’t possible for
an omnipotent being to lose something
like that.
So God decided to get out the big guns.
He sent the newbie-Angel Alfons Heiderich to Earth.
* * *
It had been Azrael who told
him, giggling like a schoolgirl, that Alfons was supposed to go to Earth.
Usually Angels weren’t supposed to leave the Pearly Gates until they were about
a hundred years old (something about still being used to the pleasures of the
flesh, and no temptation or all that…he really wasn’t listening to Uriel when he went on that long tirade about it…he was
paying more attention the Officer-Hughes lookalike
angel as he jumped around showing pictures of his daughter, practically glowing with happiness) at least, so for
God to call out something like this…
It had to be important.
“Looks like God’s finally
lost it,” the Angel of Death said, pushing back his black ponytail and his
reddish eyes taking on a mischievous glow. “But if I had to listen to all that,
day after day, I’d go a little psychopathic myself.”
Alfons, of course, was clueless, but he let the Angel
go on anyway. He had heard a rumor that Azrael sliced
off the arms of the last Angel that pissed him off, and though he wasn’t one
for hearsay, Alfons wasn’t about to count his chickens yet…especially since as
an Angel, he could still feel pain.
“So you gotta go down there
and shut this guy up. Do whatever you can—just make sure he doesn’t bitch to
God anymore…at least that was the message relayed to me.”
“Who is ‘he’?” Alfons asked. “Do I know him?”
Why was Azrael chuckling?
It was slightly irking, but at least it wasn’t as irritating as when Edward
would sit in their apartment and mope all the time. Now that was irritating.
“S-something like that.” Azrael said in between chuckles. “Unless
we have the wrong Alfons Heiderich.”
“…”
“Look, you know a guy named Edward Elric, right?
Atheist, whiny, short, bitched if he wasn’t top…”
If he wasn’t already dead, Alfons swore that would
have been the moment that his life ended. Right there on a puffy cloud, the
Angel of Death speaking to him about a private matter so casually that a normal
man would have punched him in the face.
* * *
The starlit night called out to Edward Elric as he
sat on his bed, knees brought up to his chest and head nestled against them,
loose gold hair falling down his bare shoulders. How long had it been since he
had started having these nights alone? Before it felt so natural, just having
someone next to him and breathing in his scent as the night wore on, though at
the time Edward wasn’t exactly grateful to it due to the perpetual stick he had
crammed in his ass.
It
was always “I have to go home,” or “I have to see my baby brother again,” or
“How could I have sex with a guy who looks just
like my baby brother?”
He
didn’t realize what he had until it was too late, and Alfons was lying at his
feet choking on his own blood.
Nice,
Ed.
Nice.
It wasn’t
exactly hard to tell that the poor man felt guilty about it, though not for the
reason that most would have felt guilty. It wasn’t about ‘never telling him
that he loved him’, because Ed was sure that Alfons already knew in his own
little way, and it sure as hell wasn’t about not kissing him or anything cheesy
like that—when Ed had seen the man’s dead body all he could do was hold it,
cry, and cover it with fervent and sad kisses that made Ed’s own head start to
feel light.
It
was a different kind of guilty—though not one that Ed could really explain in
words.
And damn it, his erection still wouldn’t go away.
It
had first shown up in the morning, when Al had woken him up from a particularly
nice dream (or rather, memory). Then it had gone away after a bit (though Ed
had to hide it for the better part of the morning), showing up yet again when he had decided to eat sausages that afternoon for lunch with
Al (sausages, of all things! If Ed
closed his eyes and let his mouth gently suck on it, it would almost be
like…)…and it hadn’t left ever since.
Al
had long since gone back to his hotel room, leaving Ed alone in his with an
erection from hell and the urge to just jack off and come all over the sheets, and to hell with whoever had to sleep in
his room next.
But he had some form of self-control. Besides, it
just didn’t feel right anymore, not without…
Tap.
“What the hell?”
Tap.
Ed stood, rigid, picking up his dislodged prosthetic
and snapping it in place.
Tap, tap, tap.
A few quick steps, back hugging the
wall, though the corners of the dresser were starting to dig into his back a
little.
Tap, tap, tap,
tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…
Just a little further…
Tap, tap, tap,
tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…
Hands flew to the window, throwing it open in a flash,
and golden eyes flashing, mouth wide open and ready to yell at whatever dumbass was doing that to shut the hell up and let him jack off—err, sleep in peace, when—
Blue eyes met gold, a long-gone-but-never-forgotten
sheepish smile meeting his as the visitor’s right hand lifted in a nervous
wave.
“Hey, Ed…”
It was at this point where Edward Elric had decided
to question his very sanity, for Alfons Heiderich, complete with a flowing
white robe and large shimmering wings was floating at his window, smile at the
ready and his tall, broad-shouldered build calling to him and making that
familiar swell in his pants almost burn
against the fabric.
* * *
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to fly in front of the
window like that, but Edward was never too keen on people tossing stones at his
windowpane. He found it aggravating and annoying, and it was the only surefire
way to get him to look over, even when he was half-asleep and disheveled.
But God, was he beautiful.
Long hair falling down sweaty shoulders, bronze skin shining in the moonlight,
gold eyes seeming to just reflect his
own wings’ glow…it was as if Ed was the Angel and not the poor dead soul who
just happened to be flying at his window, staring at him. Even with prosthetic
in place and all the scars, there had never been anything Alfons had ever seen
that had come closer to ‘perfect’.
And the way his eyes were wide, staring at him right
then…
Though Alfons couldn’t help but feel his cheeks pink
a little at the obvious tent in Ed’s shorts.
“Al…fons?” Ed’s voice
sounded shaky, but at the same time, hopeful.
“Hey.” His voice was much calmer than he actually
felt, racing heart betraying nothing but his voice staying even despite the
situation. “Would it be all right if I came in?”
Ed could only nod dumbly,
backing up a few steps as Alfons leaned forward, gliding through the opening
with a sort of awkward grace, nearly tripping over his own feet as he landed.
Ugh. He had only had his wings for a total of eight Earth months (Not a long
time at all in Heaven), so he didn’t have much practice flying. It was hard
enough keeping afloat at the window as it was…
“So uh…” Ed licked his lips, and for some reason the
room felt a little stuffy all of a sudden. “That’s…that’s really you, right?”
He took a single step forward.
“But…what’s with the outfit? And
the wings? And…”
Alfons sighed. “I’m an angel, Edward.”
“…An angel?” Ed repeated. If only he could have seen his
expression right then. Wide eyes, mouth hung open only slightly, with his
forehead creased with a perplexed “Huh?” aura that seemed to just radiate off
of him.
“Yes. An angel.”
“Like, from Heaven?”
“Well, yeah, that’s where we usually come from.”
“Coming down to Earth, doing God’s bidding and all
that?”
“That too. Usually they
wouldn’t send a newbie like me down though, but sometimes God makes exceptions
to this rule, as you can see.”
Five…
Four…
Three…
Two…
One…
“Holy shit.”
“I wouldn’t actually go that fa…”
Ed’s back turned, and wobbly steps moved towards the
bed, golden hair hanging down over his face as his fingers trailed the sheets.
His shoulders were also shaking, with something that sounded like laughter
escaping his lips.
“Look how desperate I am. I’m hard, I’m horny, and
I’m so out of it I’m daydreaming that my ex-lover came back to see me as an Angel. A fucking Angel. Maybe Al was right. Maybe
I do need to move on.”
“Uh…Ed?”
“Maybe all I need is to just jerk off and go to sleep.
M’obviously hallucinating.”
A pause. Another sardonic
laugh escaped the man’s lips; one that seemed to go straight to Alfons’s heart.
“Fuck…can’t believe I almost fell for that…fuck…too
damn desperate. Never coming back. Have to fucking realize that…damn it.”
“Ed?”
“Alfons…damn
it.”
He was sitting on the bed, legs spread apart; his
hair started to hang down over his eyes.
“Edward, I’m right over here.”
A hand started to skate down a toned stomach, and Ed
hissed in a breath and tilted his head back…
Is he going to
do what I think he’s going to…
Flesh fingers moved under an elastic waistband, cheeks
starting to warm up, eyes starting to close…
He is. He is.
The idiot was starting to jerk off in front of him, by God.
And his cock started to twitch.
No, no, no. He was not about to let that get ahold of him now. Not now. Ed may have been leaning against
the wall, hand down his shorts, mouth quivering and hand moving almost
frantically under the fabric, but he was not about to give into his urges and—
DAMMIT! He wasn’t supposed to be MOVING TOWARDS HIM!
Shouldn’t
be doing this. It’s indecent.
I’m an ANGEL. I shouldn’t be looking at
this, my God…
But he still took that step.
And another.
And another.
“D-dammit…”
It was hard to imagine someone feeling so confused when touching themselves. He
didn’t look like he was going towards a release. It was more like he was
getting punched in the gut with every stroke. His cheeks may have been flushed,
and his face may have been contorted with arousal, but there was also
something…broken about it. He almost
expected tears to fall down his cheeks, but no—not even alone would Edward
allow himself to let go like that.
He was too proud.
And watching him damn near ripped
Alfons’s heart in half.
Enough.
He was right in front of him now. Close enough to
touch.
He could feel himself start to twitch some more, but
his mind firmly told his cock to shut up
for the moment. He wasn’t sure if Angels could even come or not, or if it was
even normal to feel arousal.
But that wasn’t important.
The only thing that was… was his hand touching the frantically moving one through the
fabric.
Tentative.
Oddly chaste.
“I’m right here, you know. I thought you told me that
you didn’t like people watching when you touched yourself? Yet here you
are…giving me a show.”
Golden eyes snapped open, and the hand stopped.
Actually, it nearly flew out of his
shorts, like the inside was made of hot coals. Precome was still sticking to
his fingers, and Alfons had to fight back habit and not take the hand and lick
it off.
So he did the next best thing.
He leaned forward, and kissed him.
He had almost expected Ed to push him away. Maybe cry
out, maybe say something like, “You showed up now, after all this time?” Or maybe just
dismiss him again as an illusion. He had seen him during his ‘trinity’, but Ed
had turned him away as an illusion then, too. Could only say goodbye,
and even then he was sure that his voice wasn’t heard.
But Ed didn’t fight back.
Didn’t attack him.
Didn’t yell at him.
He just grabbed him roughly by the hair (Ow, ow, ow…that hurts!) and pulled him as close as he could to
him, deepening the kiss almost enough to swallow him whole.
Oh God. It’s
been too long.
Heaven wasn’t the puffy clouds that he found himself
floating on, day after day.
Heaven wasn’t the wings that were now perched on his
back, still glowing in the moonlight.
Heaven wasn’t the music that he would hear, horns and
harps and singing and all that that entailed.
No way.
Oh hell no.
Heaven was this,
his body straddling Edward’s, mouths battling, hungry, fierce, almost trying to consume something that was barely
tangible; something that if they both kissed hard enough or nipped fervently
enough, they would be able to taste
on the tip of their tongues.
Moaning. Edward was moaning
against his lips and holy shit he was
rocking against him, his hardness rubbing against his own. How long had it been
since he had felt those sparks form behind his eyelids, or that desperate want become physical between his legs?
Eight months wasn’t a long time in Heaven, but when one thinks about the burn
of flesh and the feeling of cool, sweat-dampened hair caressing his cheek, even
a day was too long.
He had to have more.
Damn it, he needed
more.
It was Edward who backed away first, saliva still
dripping from his lips and cheeks even more flushed than before. A pair of firm
hands on his chest prevented Alfons from leaning forward to reclaim his
previous territory, and it was hard to contain the whimper that almost fell from his lips.
“Lie down.”
It wasn’t a request. It was an order. But then Edward never was one for ‘please’ and ‘may I’. He just grabbed and took without asking, taking and
taking until there was nothing left to take, and even then he took some more,
even though he himself probably didn’t realize exactly what he was grabbing.
“What are you…?”
“On the bed, on your back. Right now.”
Short and irritable, yet darkened
with lust. In this state, it was hard for him to form coherent words,
even back then. Though something was different this time.
Very different.
Alfons didn’t really have a chance to move, however—before he could, a pair of
hands had already grabbed his wrists, tiny body moving and flipping him over,
pinning him down against the mattress.
Wings hurt a little though, but with all of that
warmth and Edward on him, Alfons
chose to ignore it.
He wished he could have moved his wrists. Or moved at all, really. Flesh and prosthetic moved, rubber holding his arms up above his head, as clumsy flesh
fingers trailed his jawline.
Alfons sucked in a sharp breath.
“The hell do you get these off?”
These. What?
Oh.
Oh.
The robes. Of course.
“Ah…well…” Alfons coughed. “There should be a string
by the right shoulder…”
That was all he needed to find it, yank on it, and send the fabric falling
down along Alfons’s waist in a heap. The Angel shifted a little, just a shimmy
of the hips, and Ed took that as an invitation, grinding hard against him.
“Ah!”
At this rate he was going to die.
Again.
And it didn’t help that his fingers were moving so featherlight against his chest, lingering along his nipples
and sending shocks straight to his already throbbing cock, which the other man
could probably see very clearly, making a tent out of his robe’s discarded
fabric.
A quick lift of the hips, a grab of material, and the
robe was gone, tossed across the room and onto the floor faster than he could think—
And when the
hell did Edward get naked? He had just had his shorts on moments ago, but
he looks away for even a moment and now the guy’s bare and flushed, looking at
him like he might look at the last sausage on the pub table.
Sausages.
Damn it.
“Edward…please.” Maybe if he
lifted his hips, he’d get the picture. Maybe he’d get the idea that he didn’t
want to be teased—not this time. He wasn’t even supposed to be doing this at all, for the love of God.
His response was a soft nip to the collarbone, hand
skating lower.
“E-Edward, I mean it, I…”
He was shivering. He was shivering and Edward was grinning at him in that damned obnoxious
cocky way of his as his fingers closed around him, giving a few experimental
pumps before releasing him entirely. Well, his hands and poor cock anyway. He
was so hard it hurt and Ed knew it—it
didn’t help that doing the worst attempt at a hand-job that Alfons had ever
seen only made the whole thing that much worse.
And he knew that Edward was loving
every second of it.
“So,” Edward was leaning over him now, body still
pinning him down and his voice hot against his cheeks. “Think you can whip up
some Magical lube for us, or what? You are an Angel, right?”
Lube. Figures out of all the
things that an Angel can do—fly, heal wounds, control the elements, impart
celestial wisdom…Ed had to ask if he could magic up some damn lube. He would have laughed if he wasn’t
so aroused, and if he wasn’t in love with the man he would have been not just a
little insulted.
The water
spirits aren’t going to be happy with this…
“I…I need you to get off me.”
“Why?” Damn he was insistent. Almost like Alfons
would run away if he stopped touching him.
“Because ah…when an Angel casts a spell, they let out
a lot of energy…” Uriel’s practiced words seemed to
just tumble from his lips, more of an embarrassed
mantra than anything else. His skills in spells were small at best, but making
something simple as lubricant (lube, of
all things!) was something that didn’t seem too hard. After all, it was wet
and slippery, and though it didn’t have the same chemical composition as water,
it still belonged in the Water Spirits’ domain…
Thank God water
spells are what I’m best at…
Ed still wasn’t moving.
“I’ve performed Alchemy. This’ll be nothin’.”
“Well…if you insist…”
“Hurry up, dammit!”
“Be a little patient.”
“Fuck that; hurry up!”
Alfons sighed. Closing his eyes, he felt the
familiar-yet-not-so-familiar buildup of magical energy form behind his eyelids,
going straight through his wings which then decided that it would be fun to run
up and down his spinal cord in a jolting motion. It didn’t take long for the
long-rehearsed ancient words to form into the night air, and the release of
energy to fly out in a forward motion, probably knocking Edward off of him and
flat on his ass—though the heavy weight on his chest disproved that theory
quick—and if he could almost see the blue flash of light…
…
…
Cold? Last he checked, lube wasn’t exactly cold…
…
…
“Alfons…”
“Mmm?”
“The fuck is this?”
“What?” Alfons opened his eyes, and had to stifle a
laugh.
Though it was hard to laugh when his stomach was
freezing from the full milk bottle sitting on his chest, and Edward’s gold eyes
looked like they were ready to kill him.
“I’m sorry, Edward, I’m sor…”
“Figures this’d happen. I ask for lube and I get
fucking milk.”
Alfons couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “I’m sorry—I usually do better than this—I just…”
“It’s fine. Whatever. It’s
wet. It works.” A frustrated look crossed
the man’s features as he popped the lid off and grimaced at the smell that came
out the top. “And it’s sour, too.”
“Is that even healthy?”
“You’re the
Angel. It’s not like you’re gonna die if you get sour
milk up your ass.”
Alfons made a face. “But it’s sour.”
“Hey,” Ed spilled some of the stuff on his palm,
rubbing it in until his fingers were sufficiently slick, moving down towards
Alfons’s entrance. “If I can bear to put this shit on my cock, then you can deal with it in your ass. Besides, it’s your
fault for making it in the first place.”
“Point…aaah!”
He had decided that yes, right in the middle of
talking was the perfect time to stick that first finger in, wiggling the damn
thing once it got past the ring of muscle. Alfons willed himself to relax,
though the bottle that Ed had so kindly decided to set back down on his chest
was making him cold enough to make relaxing a bit of a problem.
“You okay, Alfons?”
Says
the man who left a bottle of milk on my chest.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…cold.”
“Oh! Shit, sorry.”
And the bottle was put to the side, right next to Ed
as he put the second finger in.
Even with as clumsy as Ed’s fingers were, or as just
plain weird the milk felt against his
muscle, it didn’t take long for Alfons to start to buck and cry out, thrusting
into thin air in a manner akin to the way a starving man eats that tiny fish
that’s handed out to him by a kind stranger.
And he was
hungry.
When he was living with Edward, they couldn’t go one
night without sex.
Eight months had passed.
Do the math.
“Edward…”
“I know, I know! Here, let me…”
Alfons’s eyes were almost mesmerized with the older
man as he poured more of the foul-smelling stuff on his palm and applied it to
himself, and he lifted the Angel’s legs and hooked them on his shoulders,
heretofore raising his hips and ass slightly off the floor.
He didn’t even brace himself for the inevitable, when
that thick, sliding burn ran through
him, hitting him from his stomach, to his head, down to the tips of his toes.
“Okay?” Edward asked. Alfons couldn’t help but notice
the slight quiver in his voice.
“Yes.”
And that was it. The rest was just a blur of sight,
sound, and color. Edward’s insistent thrusting, mixed in with that sweet warmth and friction with that hand focused just as much on his cock as it was
on his entrance, and he was sure he was yelling so loud that he was waking
people in the adjoining rooms and probably made more than a couple wonder if
somebody was getting murdered (or castrated—you pick), but mixed in with Ed’s
heavy breathing and the bubbly feeling in his belly, he really couldn’t have
given two shits.
Edward hadn’t closed his eyes—didn’t even waver them, not once—just kept staring at his face, as if he
was memorizing every line and color for the very first time. Ed hadn’t closed
his eyes their first time either—come to think of it…
Damn it. He needed to quit thinking.
“A-Alfons…”
Damn it all to hell, that voice was distracting.
Ragged, throaty, deep, free—something
that made Alfons grind down onto him harder, faster—it was a feeling that was
like flying but better—something he hadn’t had for what seemed like years and
he didn’t even care if it was right or wrong, just as long as Edward kept doing that…
“Alfons, fuck…”
That tiny whisper—that small plea, half-begging and
half-demanding, a growl but not quite, with the single hard thrust that went
with it…that was enough to send Alfons’s body spiraling on liquid heat, and
somehow he felt that this, here, was
Heaven.
* * *
“Hey uh…Alfons?”
“Yeah?”
“Why exactly did you come here anyway?”
The bed was a mess. Sticky, musky,
covered in a mixture of semen and sour milk, though Alfons couldn’t bring
himself to wrinkle his nose at it. Really, with Edward Elric actually
willing to cuddle, when before the man threw off any attempt of simple
affectionate contact like they were hot coals being shoved between his
genitals.
And his body was so relaxed. He didn’t even want to
move.
“God sent me here.” Alfons said.
“God, huh?”
“Yeah. Lord Azrael told me that God wanted me to come and see you. Said
you were raising a bit of a fuss. Said
that God almost went psychopathic because of you.”
No yelling. No screaming. No picking up the bed and
yelling a long and indignant rant about how God was an asshole and how dare he mock him and all that…nor was there a gloating sound,
about “Yeah, of course I’d piss God off.”
None of that.
Just,
“Oh? Mmm.”
“You’re not going to tell me what you did to make God
get this desperate?”
“Tired. Sleep.”
Edward nudged Alfons’s shoulder with his head, wrapping his flesh arm tighter
around the other man’s waist. “Can talk in the morning.”
“Edward, I’m not sure how long I’m allowed to sta…”
“Y’not
leaving. Gotta get through me…mmrrrph.”
Sighing, Alfons shook his head, leaning his head down
against the crook in Edward’s shoulder and touching the soft gold hair that
seemed to be everywhere…though Alfons really couldn’t see himself caring that
much if some got in his mouth while he was sleeping.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself to start to
drift into sleep.
“Alfons?”
“Mmmm…yeah?”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, Edward.”
…If only the two knew that Alphonse was going to be mortified
at seeing his brother, a naked man (who was supposed to be an Angel but for
some strange reason didn’t have any wings
on his back), and sour milk in the same room the following morning.
…Oh well.
…Just take things as they come.
It seemed to work so far, at least.
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