The Edge of Insanity

A/N: Well, that took quite a while to write...



Chapter 3



It was as if a dam wall broke and the water flooded in a torrent through it. Kimbley smashed his lips against Roy’s, wetly thrusting his tongue in his mouth, a guttural sound purring in his throat. Suddenly he pulled away and Roy found himself roughly rolled over, face down on the thin, narrow mattress, Kimbley straddling his thighs. He grabbed Roy’s clothes and pulled, roughly tearing them off his form, the sound of ripping cloth filling the small tent.



“What are you…?!”



“Quiet. You’ll fix them in the morning.” Was the hoarse answer.



Roy quieted down and relaxed on the cot, naked under the other man. His hands, silky smooth, ran over his quivering back, tracing the lines of his muscles. He shuddered when he remembered the markings tattooed on those smooth palms. Kimbley could kill him with but a thought. He should be afraid. And he was. He just didn’t expect the rush of excitement, of arousal, that came along with the fear.



Soft, wet tongue traveled up his spine and Roy purred, unable to contain himself. The hands were caressing his sides, gentle, tender, careful, the mouth kept kissing and teasing his back and shoulders. It felt so good that he was slowly lulled by it, eyes closing, muscles relaxing, breathing slowing down despite his increasing arousal at each wet lick and kiss. When sharp teeth sunk in his the soft flesh of the juncture of shoulder and throat he yelped in both pain and surprise, the relaxation bleeding out of him in an instant. Kimbley suckled on the bitemark, wanting to make it as prominent as possible, then slowly withdrew and licked the stinging flesh, a guttural purr in rumbling in his throat. When he was done he leaned forward and kissed Roy’s cheek, then breathily whispered in his ear:



“Seems like I drew blood.”



Blood. How much of it had he shed since the day he arrived in Ishbal?



With a groan he turned his head and captured his lips, running his tongue over Kimbley’s teeth, tasting the faint coppery tang of blood. The other allowed him with a delighted hum, hands once again becoming tender as they caressed Roy’s naked form.



“You’ve got such a smooth skin. How did you manage to remain unscarred after all this time?”



“I was lucky, I guess.” Roy muttered, craning his neck to try and take a look at him in the darkness but all he saw was his silhouette again. He vowed that next time, if there was a next time, they’d do this somewhere where there was proper lighting. Roy liked looking at his lover’s forms when he fucked, liked watching the expressions on their faces when he made them scream. Only this time he had the feeling that he would be the one doing the screaming.



Kimbley was still lying on top of him, the rough, standard-issue fabric of his shirt and pants scraping against his sensitive skin.



“Aren’t you going to undress too?” he asked curiously as he felt the other man tongue tracing maddening circles down his spine.



“Hmmm… no.” Was the breathy answer before the other went back to work, slowly moving lower and lower. Surely he wasn’t going to…?



A dry finger suddenly breached Roy and he felt and heard the alchemic reaction both inside and out, the energy trickling over his inner walls. The sensation was indescribable, something primal and almost vicious. It tingled to the point of pain and yet teased him in a way that he never thought possible.



“What the hell…?” he exclaimed.



“Relax. I’m just not going to proceed without being sure that you’re clean.”



He was about to ask what did Kimbley intend to proceed with when a soft, wet tongue pressed against his still tingling entrance. Roy arched into it with a moan that would’ve been very loud if he hadn’t bitten the sheets underneath him.



He heard a chuckle behind him and felt the vibrations of it carry all the way inside of him as Kimbley kept licking and stabbing his tongue in his entrance, sliding into him for a moment before withdrawing, repeating the same teasing, maddening performance again and again.



“Oh, oh…” he moaned softly, fingers clawing at the sweaty mattress underneath him. Despite his numerous sexual escapades, he had never dared to ask any of his lovers to do this to him. He had known of this act, read about in dirty magazines and overheard some of his mother’s girls talking about it, but it had always seemed very disrespectful and dirty to ask this of a partner and no one had ever offered before. Then again, no one else had had the ability to make him clean inside and out for less than two seconds before.



The tongue, wet and agile kept laving at him, slithering over his twitching entrance faster and faster and he briefly wondered if it was even possible to finish just from this when Kimbley suddenly stopped. They both lay for a moment, panting, eager for more.



The older man pulled a way a little and said:



“Turn around.”



Sluggishly, he obey and rolled over, facing up, searching for the shadowy face with his eyes. He truly wished he could see him.



“I will have you tonight.” Kimbley said thoughtfully, crawling forward until they were face to face again. “Make you all mine. You would like that, wouldn’t you? To be mine, rather than the Stone’s?”



He nodded, a lump stuck in his throat.



Rough fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, hard enough to sting but not to hurt – just a warning for now.



“Say it.” He ordered calmly.



“Yes.”



“Yes, what?”



“Yes, Sir.” Roy whispered and the hand in his hair immediately turned gentle, petting the sable locks.



“That’s a good boy.”



Kimbley drew back until he kneeled on the narrow cot, each knee outside Roy’s thighs. Roy could barely see him in the weak light in the tent, but he heard him moving, heard the rustling of cloth and the popping of buttons.



“You will make me all ready for you now.” Kimbley stated calmly. “Return the favour from before too.”



Roy’s breaths came shallow and rapid as he sat up and groped in the darkness for Kimbley’s crotch. A pair of deceptively strong hands grabbed his wrists and guided him patiently to the exposed cock, already half-hard and silky smooth. Roy carefully wrapped his fingers around it, taking his time to get used to the texture and weight of it in his grasp – it had been a while since his last encounter with a man. He had never felt insecure about his sexual skills before – it was one of the many things that growing up in a brothel made sure of – but something about the predatory presence above him made him second guess himself, made him worry if he would satisfy Kimbley enough for the man to want a repeat performance. It was important for the man to want him, Roy thought bitterly, because without him, he would remain alone with the Stone. He didn’t want that. He was ready to do anything to avoid that.



He leaned and wrapped his mouth around the hardening tip with a newfound determination, soft lips encircling the silken flesh, wet tongue sliding around it, flicking against the sensitive slit. The elegant fingers gripped his hair harshly and above him Kimbley hissed but otherwise remained silent, though Roy felt his breathing increase sharply. Despite the stinging in his scalp where his partner gripped him so roughly, he felt quite pleased with himself. His tongue slid further down, teased the ridge of the flaring head and met the scar of a not very well-performed circumcision. He had been curious about that, as his tongue traced the scar-tissue, curious about the effect it would produce. He knew that sometimes a lot of the sensation was lost, sometimes it was sensitive to the point of pain. A whimper left Kimbley’s lips and Roy hummed to himself as he slid his mouth further down on the now engorged cock. He had his answer which case Kimbley was.



The hand in his hair tightened even more, but Kimbley did not thrust in his mouth as he expected him to – in fact, he remained quite passive, obviously willing to let Roy do most of the work. He wrapped the fingers of his right hand around what he could not swallow and used the left to roll and gently massage the taught balls between Kimbley’s thighs, enjoying the soft, hairless skin.



Above him the man purred with delight as Roy’s head bobbed up and down on his erection, the fingers in his hair tightening rhythmically and he could feel the narrow hips of his partner trembling with the effort to keep still. Suddenly the grip tightened again and Kimbley kept his head in place, Roy’s mouth stretched wide around his organ. Hesitantly he looked up, wondering what he intended to do now, but once again saw only shadows. Still holding Roy’s head, Kimbley slowly slid further in until the tip of his cock touched the back of his throat. Roy blinked rapidly, body stiffening in anticipation.



“You won’t bite now.” It was more of an order than a question, but Roy couldn’t even nod his assent. The thick cock kept pressing in and the younger man made a conscious effort to suppressing his gag reflex.



It was finally in his throat, cutting off all air, thick and hard and throbbing and Roy’s eyes watered with the strain of it. The hand in his hair let go and began to pet him instead, but he didn’t dare pull back, even if Kimbley gave him that opportunity. His lungs screamed for air, the edges of his vision blurring by the time the other finally pulled back and freed Roy’s airway.



He collapsed forward and grabbed onto slender, muscled thighs to stop himself from falling face first onto the bed, gulping like a stranded fish as his lungs expanded with sweet, delicious air, his entire form trembling uncontrollably. Hands caressed his hair, face, shoulders and he leaned into the tender touch.



“You did so well. I am proud of you.” Kimbley praised him and Roy just mewled in response, realizing that he had never been this hard in his life. For that brief moment Kimbley had had complete control over him, his life, his body, all that he was and he had used it without remorse. He knew that he should be furious at being treated like this, but instead he felt only gratitude and utter relief – for a moment, one sweet, heated moment, all worries about the Stone, about the wrongs he had committed for the past days, it had all been forgotten and the only thing his mind had focused on was the sheer need of air, the taste and scent of the thick organ in his mouth, the graceful fingers in his hair. For that brief moment of breathlessness, he had been free of the Stone.



Kimbley settled back on the bed and gathered Roy’s trembling form in his arms, burying his face in his throat, covering it in tender kisses.



“You’re doing really, really well.” He praised him again and Roy’s hips jerked at the words, pressing his own erection against his new lover. They were both painfully aroused and Roy could feel the need exuding from the other man, marveling at his sheer self-restraint to draw this out like that, rather than just bend him over and take from him what he wanted. An elegant hand sneaked between them and found Roy’s cock then began to fondle him.



“Why are you doing this?” Roy asked quietly, voice faltering as the hand kept teasing him mercilessly.



“Why am I doing what, exactly?”



“Why are you so gentle?” he answered after a few moments, shaking when a thumb pressed against his leaking slit. Kimbley chuckled in his ear with amusement.



“Only fools use pain alone to enforce their control, boy.” He pointed out and dragged his manicured nails against the sensitive skin under the flaring cockhead. Roy keened and clutched onto him, knees drawing up to his chest. “Do you think me a fool, Roy?” he asked mildly.



“N… No.” was all Roy could articulate for the moment, because the hand returned to its gentle ministrations.



“Good. I would’ve been most unhappy if you did.”



He didn’t have the time to ponder on the not so hidden threat in that response because the fingers that fondled his erection until that moment suddenly moved lower, squeezing and massaging his balls and he sucked in his breath as a wet tongue traced the outer shell of his ear. Roy realized that he was sprawled entirely on Kimbley’s lap, legs splayed wide open, giving the other man perfect access to his most private places.



The hand went away and he moaned unhappily at the loss, but Kimbley shushed him.



“Quiet now. As much as I’d love to take you dry, we need you to be productive tomorrow and watch my back. You won’t be able to do that if you can’t walk.”



He more felt that saw Kimbley search through his uniform pockets until he found what he was looking for – a small tube of aloe gel some soldiers used to for their sunburned skin, Roy recognized it when what little light there was in the tent glinted off the smooth metallic surface of the tube – that is, when they had the sufficient funds to buy it off the black market. Being a State Alchemist, of course, meant that Kimbley had no such monetary problems.



The fingers returned between his thighs, now wet and slippery, the cool substance smearing against his perineum before the questing digits slid between his cheeks and circled his entrance. He twitched and tensed at the sudden sensation, then flushed at his own skittishness which was so unusual for his character. The first finger breached him and he moaned at the long forgotten sensation.



“What’s wrong, Roy? You’re so tight. That friend of yours, he hasn’t given it to you for a while now, has he?” the other teased him mercilessly. Roy refused to dignify that with a response and furiously slammed down on the finger, feeling it go all the way inside of him. His jaw went slack at the feeling and he groaned again, rolling his hips hungrily, eager for more.



“Wanton little slut.” Kimbley muttered, sounding more like he was talking to himself rather than Roy but that didn’t matter, because a second finger soon joined the first. His muscles stretched and stung around the invading digits and burn went straight to his cock, hot and hard and leaking against his flat belly. As Kimbley added a third finger he leaned and suckled the moist head, long, silken hair spilling over Roy’s stomach and chest. His fingers grazed his prostate, once, twice, the agile, wet tongue flicked against his organ and it was all he could take, spilling himself in that soft mouth with a hoarse groan.



Kimbley pulled back and Roy saw him rub the back of his hand against his mouth, then suddenly backhanded him across the face. Roy jerked more in surprise than in pain, blinking up at the shadowy figure.



“What was that for?!” he protested, ready to bolt, despite the three fingers still lodged in his ass.



“To remember that next time you should exercise a little self-control and not come without permission.” Was the eerily calm response.



Despite his vulnerable position, Roy couldn’t help but smirk up at him.



“I thought that only fools used pain to gain control.” He challenged.



The fingers withdrew and he heard a zipper being lowered, then Kimbley moved between his splayed legs, gripping his thighs and spreading them further apart.



“I said pain alone.” He reminded him and slid in with one sharp thrust. “I never said completely without pain.”



Roy flung his head back and keened, body stiffening at the sudden, painful invasion. Despite the preparation he still wasn’t ready for it, wasn’t ready to be taken in such a violent way, especially not after all the months of celibacy he had experienced. His body had forgotten how to relax, how to accept the intruder, and all he could do now was lay there, mouth wide open in a silent scream as he tried to breathe, hands fisted in the threadbare mattress beneath him.



“Son of a bitch!” he growled up at the man, sure that he was smirking down at him.



“Mmm. Can’t say it’s not true.” Kimbley answered, but he too sounded winded and hoarse, although Roy was sure it was for very different reasons. He remember what it felt like to be sheathed in a tight, slick glove and knew that Kimbley must be struggling now to ward off his own orgasm.



Still, despite that he expected him to begin thrusting immediately, the other man took his time, patiently waiting for the tight heat around him to begin to relax. Soon, the sting in Roy’s ass faded to a dull, heated throb, replaced with the incredible sensation of fullness. He lifted his legs and tentatively wrapped them around Kimbley’s narrow hips, pulling him even closer. His lover – because that was what he was now, wasn’t he – seemed to get the hint and began pumping his hips with slow, shallow movements.



Roy shivered and tugged on the long, silken hair to pull the man further down so he could wrap his arms around his shoulders too, half-expecting the other to pull back, but Kimbley surprised him again by allowing the embrace.



The cot under them creaked unhappily as they rocked together, tangled tightly around each other. Kimbley was running his tattooed hands all over his body, hissing quietly in his ear with each rolling pump. Roy turned his head and mouthed the sweaty juncture of his neck and shoulder. The coarse fabric of his lover’s pants chafed between his legs but the pain only heightened the pleasure and he moaned when the tip of the length inside of him brushed over his prostate. Kimbley kept aiming at that spot, delighting in the soft sighs and keens that produced, pulling back enough so that they could be face to face. A strong hand snaked around Roy’s throat and stayed there for a few moments before suddenly tightening, stopping all air supply. It was unexpected, but it produced the same results as before – that utter feeling of helplessness and vulnerability, a total loss of control. He would’ve whimpered if he could. His erection swelled further and throbbed between his thighs, trapped between their hard bellies.



Kimbley slammed back in right when he loosened his grip and the sudden influx of air combined with the rough stimulation of his prostate made stars burst behind his tightly scrunched eyelids. The other waited for him to begin breathing normally again, rocking back and forth between his legs before his fist tightened again, and again, and again. The lack of air dampened sound, made spots dance before his eyes and hightened sensation and soon he was shaking, his orgasm ripping through him just when the hand closed around his throat again. The heat that coursed through his body was so intense, wave after wave cresting and ebbing away, that he must’ve blacked out for a few moments. When he came to he felt Kimbley shudder above him and inside of him, soft little mewls escaping his clenched teeth. There was something open and vulnerable about him in those short moments of pleasure, something about the way his body arched and spasmed, about the sounds he made, about the way he slumped over Roy afterwards, body sweaty and shivering.



Roy’s hands came up instinctively and he held him for a moment, feeling the tremors that ran through his frame before the man stiffened and pulled away, leaving him sticky and cold.



“We should go back to sleep.” Kimbley said conversationally, as if nothing had just happened between them. “Tomorrow we’ll reach the enemy base.” He put his hands on Roy and before he could react he felt the electric tingle and saw the glow of Alchemic reaction. In the faint light he finally saw Kimbley’s angular face – cold and closed off, golden eyes thoughtful and guarded. All masks were back in place. When the light disappeared he felt much cleaner. Kimbley repeated the process on his own person and muttered: “No need for us to do it all sticky.”



“Kimbley…” he tried, and the sound that came out of his bruised throat was hoarse and barely recognizable.



“Go to sleep, Mustang.” The man insisted, climbing in his own cot and turning his back to him.



He certainly didn’t want to sleep and he had quite a few questions, but he knew that Kimbley was right. Tomorrow was an important day. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could do much talking at the moment – he felt quite sore all over.