On Edge

Disclaimer: Belongs to Arakawa, Bandai, Squeenix, etc. NOT ME XD;

Elricest, style of 2004: Yes, the infamous frustrated!Ed fic XD (As if I don't have enough of those :)

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"Brother!" Al complained, thumping a heavy hand down onto his desk. "You're doing it again."

"Hmmm?" Ed blinked, following the armor's pointed glare. "Oh..."

He twirled his pencil one more time and pressed it down to the notepad purposefully, as if he hadn't just been drumming it against his automail. Al continued staring.

"...didn't mean to." Ed apologized sulkily, with a fierce glower that just DARED Al to start. His brother simply shook his head and turned back to his own notes, the harsh grate of metal drowning out anything else he might have said. The irrational urge to chuck the pencil at his brother's head welled up like a summer thunderstorm, but thankfully it passed just as quickly.

This wasn't Al's problem. It was his.

Theoretically, it wasn't a problem at all, he recognized. It was perfectly normal, if the anatomy books were to be believed, and it was just another Celebrated Step on the Road Toward Manhood...well, fuck that. People who wrote shit like that had obviously never been sixteen and sharing a room with their younger brother. The fact was, the frustration was driving him absolutely nuts, and if he didn't get off sometime in the near future, he seriously thought he might kill someone. Edward was beginning to feel like he was permanently on edge, and...was Al staring at him again? It was making his mind pull crazy tricks.

He dug the nails of his human hand into his palm and tried to look down at the array he was drawing, but not even pain brought the lines back into focus. It was getting harder and harder to ignore now, and despite his best efforts he was steadily losing ground. It had been bad enough this morning, when he'd awoken hard from strange, half-remembered dreams. Something about Winry and his automail, only she'd taken her shirt off in the middle of smacking him with her wrench, and then somewhere in there it had started to feel good...Just thinking about it made his pants start to tighten, and he hissed slightly as he eased back in his chair. Damn, he needed bigger pants...or fewer erections...or something. God, could Al see? He shot a furtive glance in his brother's direction. Luckily, the armor was busy scribbling away in a notebook and completely ignoring his brother's predicament.

Ed leaned to one side as nonchalantly as he could manage, and tried his damndest to think. What were you supposed to do when this sort of thing happened? He really, really didn't want to wait it out again. It seemed to Edward he'd read somewhere that you were supposed to focus on something unpleasant, but not even Gramma Pinako was making the burn in his thighs go away.

Armstrong, then. He thought crazily. Armstrong and Gramma Pinako together...on a cold day...

"Brother, stop FIDGETING!" Al screeched, tossing his hands up. "Honestly!"

Ed looked down to realize he was drumming his automail leg against the floor.

"Oh, fuck this." He swore ambiently and shoved himself away from the table. He stood up with as much grace as he could muster, and began the slow and painful process of walking toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Al sputtered. "Nii-san!"

"Out." Ed announced. "I'll be back."

He slammed the door behind him and limped toward the common room, trying to see if he could walk it off. Cold thoughts. He needed cold thoughts. Ice cubes. Penguins. Popsicles in Antartica. It was enough to keep him moving, but the fire in his groin only intensified with each step. The leather was pulling just tight enough to be painful, but not hard enough to kill his hard on. It was actually making it worse. Somebody said something to him and he snarled, not at all in the mood for chit-chat. The barracks were about the worst place in the world to be turned on and lonely, and he had no problem with taking it out on strangers.

He stormed through the lounge and ducked into the restroom, no longer willing to wait. He had to do something about it, and this time of day there shouldn't be anyone around. Just needed to take the edge off, that was all. He'd get it over with quick and go back to work, and he wouldn't have to bother Al with this. He made a beeline for the stall farthest from the door and transmuted the lock shut, practically ripping his pants open in his haste.

He yanked his pants down and collapsed on the toilet, breathing a long sigh of relief. He could finally touch himself, and he pressed into his hand earnestly, gasping at the warm tendrils shooting down his cock. Yes, there, that's what he needed, and the shame dissolved instantly in the presence of desire. He rubbed his thumb over the head and sighed gratefully at the way the sensation shot up his spine. He squeezed himself urgently and felt his legs spread apart of their own accord. Just needed to take the edge off, and then he'd be able to think again.

It was getting progressively harder to breathe, and Ed opened his mouth to swallow air in big shuddering gulps. He gritted his teeth and forced his arm to keep moving, fighting his body's urge to seize up. Sitting upright was killing him and he leaned hard against the toilet paper dispensor, trying his damndest not to bend it with his automail. So...close...

The bathroom door opened with a loud creak and he froze instantly, human hand still clenched firmly around his cock. The tension was making his legs twitch and he pressed his heels hard down against the floor so his boots wouldn't clatter. He was instantly aware of the loudness of his breathing, the roar of the blood in his ears, and he held himself as still as he could muster. Heavy bootsteps thudded throughout the washroom and came to a stop somewhere by the sinks. The door creaked again and another set of footsteps thundered toward the middle of the room, followed by a muffled thud of equipment being dropped to the floor.

Ed took a long, shaky breath and loosened his grip a little, trying to stay rational. They were probably getting back from some mission and looking for a shower, that was all...they'd be in the next room in a second, and the roar of the showers would drown everything out. It would be fine, it would be good, and most of all he wouldn't have to come out with his pants down and commit homicide...

A faucet came on.

He waited for it to stop but it just kept going, an endless stream of water echoing all around him. Then, just when he thought he could start again, the taps were suddenly replaced by the unmistakeable sound of compressed air and gurgling aftershave. They were shaving. Ed repressed the urge to groan. There was no way he was waiting through that!

He closed his fingers around his cock again and tugged experimentally, heart still drumming in his ears. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but as always there was that tell-tale schlocking noise. Maybe a girl would be fooled, but every man on the planet would know what that sound was. The prospect of being caught jerking off in the public restroom was enough to make even the notoriously brazen Fullmetal Alchemist pause to think.

"Hey, you catch the game Friday night?"

"No! What happened?"

Small talk. They were making small talk. What kind of fucking idiots talked in the bathroom?! It was completely unnatural (and sort of creepy). These guys were just begging for a good ol' fashioned piece of the Elric mind. Except that, problem was, he wasn't in any mood to give them one. There were more pressing things to deal with, and cracking people's nuts didn't sound nearly so much fun when his own balls were screaming for release. He contemplated just transmuting the rest of the stall shut around him and doing it anyways, but that would attract even more attention than the original schlocking sound. They might even come over and ask if something was wrong. Ed didn't think he could deal with that.

He waited a few more moments before finally giving up. He snatched for a piece of toilet paper to wipe his hand off and transmuted the lock open as non-chalantly as possible. He pulled up his pants and hissed in discomfort as the tight leather chafed against his hard-on. It was painful enough to take the edge off some of his excitement, but again, it failed to go any lower than half-mast. He gritted his teeth and charged out into the main room, breezing right past the sinks and the stupid #@&%!!s who had the #$@#&%!ing gall to be using the #$@#&%!ing restroom when HE needed it more. He clapped his hands briefly and touched them to the wall, and if anyone was injured in the sudden indoor earthquake, he didn't stick around to see it.

He stomped back to their shared room and threw the door open with as much dignity as he could manage, but his control was severely lacking. Cold thoughts. He reminded himself. Al was still trying to work.

Al was staring at him.

"Yo." He grunted non-commitally, and kicked the door shut behind him. It crashed into the frame with a loud report and he winced. He needed to calm down, or at least stop doing things with his automail for a while.

Colonel Mustang freezing to death in his boxers in Antartica...

Damn, that thought was too pleasurable.

"Brother..." Al started heisitantly. His helmet was tilted downward, staring right THERE...

Ed's breath froze in his chest.

"Are you limping?" The armor gasped.

"N-no, I'm not!" Ed squeaked.

Al's soul-eyes narrowed in what passed for a scowl.

"Are you sure? You're walking funny."

"I'm fine." Ed insisted, and forced himself to stand up straight. The discomfort turned into a sharp spike of heat jabbing through his groin, and he changed his mind about getting back to his desk and headed for the couch instead.

"This day really sucks." He groaned, flopping down on his back. He draped an arm over his eyes and tried to just focus on not feeling anything for a while. Maybe he could get away with unbuttoning the top button on his pants if he moved quick.

Something heavy landed on his thigh and started to squeeze, right at the junction where the flesh turned to automail. He bolted upright and then collapsed just as quickly, cursing himself for an idiot. Al continued kneading.

"A-AL!" He yelped, hearing his voice crack and hating the sound of it, how young and helpless that was. "When did you--WHAT are you--?!"

"You hurt today, don't you?" Al accused. His tone was mild but his fingers got temporarily rougher, pressing hard into the muscle. It sent shivers racing up the back of Ed's leg, and the throb in his groin came back worse than ever. "Brother, you should have said something! You probably need ointment on it."

Ed bit his lip and suppressed the urge to whimper. God, Al thought his leg hurt?! Ed wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. But the rough glove on his thigh was taking his mind in an all too inappropriate direction, and the almost-there not-quite-direct-enough touch was making the need almost unbearable.

"Al..." He warned, trying to scoot away from his brother's touch. Al's hand moved after him and migrated higher, rubbing the inside of his thigh. Ed cursed and tried not to thrust.

"See?! You're all knotted up." Al grumbled and mercifully withdrew, leaving Ed red-faced and panting. "You need to take better care of yourself...Winry would kill us both if she knew you were letting it go like that."

Al moved away and started rummaging in their suitcase, still muttering something disparaging about stupid siblings who never get help when they need it. Ed just sagged into the cushions and focused on breathing through his nose, slow and steady. As soon as he could trust himself to stand, he was going to head straight for the bathroom and transmute a ten foot wall over the door, and everyone else who wanted to use the restroom could bite him.

"Hey, we've still got some!" Al turned around and brandished a tube of numbing cream. Ed stared for a long second before accepting the medicene. It would certainly make Al happy if he used it...then he remembered what applying ointment entailed, and decided against it. There was no way in hell he was taking his pants off right now, not if a whole colony of fire ants fell out of the sky and decided to take up residence.

"I'll take care of it later." He said nonchalantly.

"Do you want me to help you?" Al persisted. "Your shoulder probably needs it too."

"I said, I'll do it later." Ed growled, and pocketed the tube.

"Nii-san!" Al wheedled, kneeling down beside the couch. "It won't get any better if you don't use your medicene..."

"It's okay, really." He sighed. Why did Al always have to be so damn caring all the time? It was getting annoying.

"You don't look okay."

"It's not that bad, I swear!"

"But you really should--"

"Dammit Al, I'm FINE, just get out of here and LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

They both paused, surprised by the outburst.

"Aw hell, Al, I'm sorry..." Ed groaned, dragging his human hand through his hair. "I'm just kinda pissed off right now, that's a--"

Al's hand returned to his thigh and began to squeeze again, making Ed squirm in spite of himself. The other one joined it and drifted higher, brushing gently over the ache between his legs.

"Al!!!" He gasped, but he couldn't hide the reaction. The light touch was torture, and his hips spasmed forward reflexively, seeking more contact.

"I knew it!" Al scowled, and rubbed him again. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"N-no..." Ed lied, trying to shove Al's arm away. "Stop that, you're--oh fuck..." Ed moaned as Al pressed his fingers over his clothed erection. The cool metal was heaven against the heat in his crotch, and it took all the strength he had not to thrust again.

"You could have just told me." Al continued, brushing careful fingers over Ed's hips. Ed whimpered and tried to avoid his brother's eyes. His face was flaming with shame and embarrassment, but the sensation was too good to ignore. He needed to get off so badly his whole body was shaking, and he wasn't sure he could put it off any longer.

"I--"

"It's okay." Al whispered, in that same damnable caring voice, and careful fingers tugged his fly open. He ran his palm down into Ed's pants and Ed choked on an incoming breath, making a wet, sobbing sound. It was getting harder to remember why he'd been so against this, and he bucked into the touch gratefully, happy for any kind of release. Al hooked a finger into his boxers and yanked the front of them down, exposing his erection to the chilly air.

"Hey!" Ed gasped indignantly. Damn, they needed to buy a space heater or something...and then Al's palm was brushing over his cock again and he forgot about the temperature, because that rough direct contact was setting him on fire. He curled into it, whimpering, and rubbed into the leather like his life depended on it. Al didn't trust himself to close his fist around his brother's erection, because he was afraid he might pull too hard, so Ed knew this was all he could have. It didn't matter. It was wonderful.

His legs stiffened suddenly and he no longer could thrust properly, muscles tensed too tightly to do anymore than twitch. Al must have noticed, because he did curl two fingers around the side of Ed's cock and pump slowly. Ed groaned as liquid pleasure flowed through his cock and ignited his body, making him tremble. A few seconds later he spasmed and came, whole body jerking as the tension finally released. He choked on a sob and sagged into the cushions, unable to do anything but breathe. Finally, relief.

Al brought him a towel and he wiped off dutifully, sleepy as hell. It felt like his human arm weighed a thousand pounds, and he let the used cloth fall to the floor, not particularly interested in walking it to the laundry hamper.

"Better now?" his brother asked, stroking one finger down along Ed's side, and Ed didn't bother to answer. There was no point in stating the obvious. He reached lamely toward his desk and Al brought his books to him, piling them on the floor beside the couch. Ed propped one up on his lap and started reading again, pointedly ignoring his sibling's periodic soft caresses.

He'd just needed something to take the edge off, that was all. That was all.

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...my the souls that find no peace still i look to you to find release find release...