Rebirth

Title: Rebirth
Pairing: Archer/Kimbley/Al
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: genderswitch, noncon, double penetration, light bukkake, total PWP
Feedback: Please Read & Review
Disclaimer: Don\'t own FMA, ain\'t profiting. S\'all good.


-----


What’s that noise, it’s so loud…


...my head…


…so loud…


Is someone… Brother?


“And you’re positive no one saw you bring her here?”

No… not Brother…

“How many times do I have to repeat myself before you get it? Everyone fucking disappeared; she was the only one left.”

She?

“Hm.”

“Wish you’d shut up and let me fuck her already before she wakes up. Look at her, she’s not even wearing anything, she’s practically begging for it.”

No… I have to…

“And how exactly do you expect to accomplish this in your condition, Major?”

“ I said I’m fine.”

Why does… so loud…

“You’re not fine.”

“I can’t help it. Do you have any idea how many of them I killed? You should have seen them lining the streets... it made my dick hard.”

…help her…

“…”

“You can’t fool me, Colonel. I know you want to fuck her as badly as I do.”

It hur--


----


Alphonse Elric slipped in and out of consciousness and all he knew was that it hurt. Everything just hurt. During his brief periods of awareness, he tried to focus on his surroundings, but he found it too dark, or perhaps too bright. Splotches of color and shadow invaded his vision and all he saw was a blur, blobbed forms undulating past his eyes. If the hard, sandy floor didn’t scratch against his skin so painfully, he would have never known which way was up.

As if focusing visually was difficult enough, the high-pitched squeal emanating from somewhere deep within his own head made it hard to concentrate on pretty much anything else. He was practically blind, his ears were ringing loud enough to actually bring physical pain, the front of his face burned as scents assaulted his nose, and his entire body throbbed and stung. Drafts wafting through the tiny hairs on his arms sent electric shocks through his skin. He could feel every grain of sand, every pebble, every piece of dirt leeching him of his moisture.

If he had been able to stay awake for any significant length of time, he would have been able to appreciate the fact that he was feeling anything at all, that his body was made of supple and delightfully vulnerable flesh instead of cold, unfeeling steel. That he had skin to be scratched, that he had eyes to be blurry and ears to be ringing. Being trapped in the sensory depravation of a hollow suit of armor for five years, he missed out on vital development and forgot what it all felt like in the first place. If he could just stay awake, he would be able to get some kind of a grip on his newly rediscovered senses and coordination. Controlling muscles was different than bending steel joints through sheer force of will… maybe he would have even been able to defend himself if he had some time to recover.


----


“Hurry up. Hurry up! My dick’s gonna’ fuckin’ explode!” The Crimson Alchemist barked impatiently. Colonel Frank Archer was not unaware of the irony concerning the exclamation and the man. Kimbley, the State Alchemist who specialized, no obsessed, in explosives, in exploding with his bare hands, was complaining that he was about to do the same? If Archer didn’t share the man’s sentiments, he might have laughed at the absurdity.

The girl they were about to take, about to use and share in a well-known, rather well-disrespected war pastime, had appeared out of nowhere. According to Kimbley’s rushed report, he had entered the ruined city of Liore as planned, wreaked havoc in the only way he knew how and encountered the fugitive “Scar”, as well as Alphonse Elric. A fight had ensued, resulting in the wounding of Kimbley’s shoulder, but he had managed to get out of the city once he realized what the scarred man had planned.

Archer’s first infantry division, however, had already begun to file into the doomed town by the time Kimbley made his way back to the Colonel’s makeshift command post. He arrived just in time to see red light fill the sky, devouring the first wave of foolhardy Amestrian soldiers and any civilians who had happened to survive his onslaught of red stone fueled explosions.

Archer, Kimbley and the rest of the troops had entered the city looking for survivors not long after the light had faded. The two officers went straight to the place Kimbley had left, knowing it to be the last sighting of Scar and the young Elric brother. They expected to find bodies, or some kind of evidence that they had been there at all, not an unconscious, naked female. She was quite beautiful and quite a welcomed sight to two soldiers who hadn’t been able to gaze upon such a curvaceous form in a long while, having been stuck on military trains and in military camps surrounded by unwashed grunts. Archer of course had no one to thank for that other than himself, being that he had been one of the top driving forces behind most of the Fuhrer’s recent campaigns.

But he found that he really didn’t need the warmth of another person’s body next to his in order to be content. He found the plotting and scheming of wartime operations to far surpass carnal desires, but if the need ever arose, Kimbley had taken to making himself very obviously available to him. The frequency with which Archer visited his subordinate’s bed was nothing more than boredom, or at least that’s what he liked to tell himself.

The Mad Bomber was the insatiable one, always searching and yearning for his next fix, be it in explosive form or sexual (or on the increasingly more frequent occasion—both at the same time). The animalistic hunger in his eyes was breathtaking and fascinating to Archer in that it did not vary one bit between death and sex. Archer would always remember the first time the alchemist had enticed him into his bed. He could still feel the fear and adrenaline course through his body when he thought Kimbley’s eyes told him he was about to die, when he felt the clammy press of deadly palms against his cheeks. But then he realized that the passion in the wiry man’s face wasn’t a show of bloodlust, but of the regular kind. Those palms slid up his face, gripped his hair and pulled him closer…

It was absolutely exhilarating and he would never admit to himself just how much loved to see that man’s glazed and euphoric expression, or how far out of the way he was really willing to go in order to see it again. He tried his best to make his willingness to please a matter of military control, not a matter of personal desire. Whether Kimbley realized the truth or not didn’t really matter, however. Either way, the alchemist won and as Archer lifted and positioned the limp girl’s body over Kimbley’s naked and wounded one, he was all too aware of that fact.

----

Alphonse awoke again to the feeling of… something touching him, pulling. It was soft and warm and… skin. Specifically, hands. Must have been hands… the separate indentations of fingers, the pressure… It had been a long time, but he definitely remembered the feeling of warm skin; it was one of the sensations he longed for the most. He heard someone grunt and strain and was then lifted and cradled in that someone’s arms. He felt a strange pull at his chest as he was lifted, but couldn’t identify why. His sensitivity to touch was still greatly amplified and the rough cloth of the person’s garments scratched against his skin, but the warmth, the heat… it was overwhelming and intoxicating. He felt beautiful, blinking his eyes lazily, trying to identify something around him. His vision was still cloudy, but the shapes were becoming clearer, or maybe he was just getting used to them.

He was awkwardly settled in the person’s arms and he tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but found he was still too weak to do much of anything. Besides, the little that he could move only distanced himself from the heat of the person’s body and he didn’t like that one bit. He wanted to wrap himself around the person, whoever it was. All thoughts about the previous conversation he had overheard were forgotten as he weakly rubbed his cheek against the person’s shoulder and quietly delighted in the rough texture against his skin. His skin.


“She’s awake--”


Alphonse felt the rumble of a very masculine voice through the person’s chest and he sighed, pulling himself closer. His ears did not hurt as much as before and the ringing had started to subside. He couldn’t help thinking that the man’s voice sounded familiar, but he had trouble placing it to a face in his memory, especially considering his perception of sound was so… skewed. Everything sounded different, yet the same. It seemed clearer and crisper. He heard just fine in his metal body, but it seemed muffled and sometimes echoed as if traveling a much longer distance to reach him than it actually was. Now that he had somehow done away with that body, it was unmuffled and perfect. There were ambient noises all around him that he had never noticed before or had forgotten, entire ranges of frequencies that he had missed out on during his unnatural soul attachment.

This girl… who is she?

“Who cares if she’s awake, give her to me.”

“Though she seems to be drugged…”

I know these voices… who are they…

“Better for us, then. What are you waiting for?!”


Alphonse mewled softly in protest when he felt the man holding him bend over, knowing he was going to be put down. He felt the unfamiliar heaviness on his chest again as he was lowered and he struggled to identify the cause, grappling weakly with one arm at the man to not let him go and clumsily trying to identify the heaviness on his own chest with the other, but he hadn’t gained fine control of his muscles yet and his meager flailing was unproductive.

All actions halted abruptly once the man who held him settled him completely onto something that felt even nicer. It didn’t take long to identify the sensations— firm and soft at the same time, smooth, warm. Skin, lots of it and touching him everywhere. He could hear the hiss of breath close to his ear, feel the breeze ruffle the fine hairs on his face as he rose and fell rhythmically upon the chest of someone else, seemingly male.

The sensation made him drunk with joy and he squirmed, wanting to be closer. He breathed deeply and weakly splayed his hands over the smooth skin below him, the touch sending ripples through his palms and up his arms, but he felt as though there was something obstructing him, something large and thick and soft between their chests, like a pillow.

It dawned on him sluggishly that there was something very wrong when he felt a rough hand slide over that very “pillow”. He should not be able to feel with an inanimate object not part of his body. The heavy hanging, the cushioned softness, the sense of touch… He suddenly gasped and tensed as pinching fingers sent shocks of cold heat straight through his body, all the way down between his legs.

----


If Kimbley’s left shoulder hadn’t been practically broken, he would not have been able to stop himself from flipping the delightfully squirming girl spread across his body over, and fucking her straight through the floor. But, his injury left him a bit incapacitated, which pissed him off. Everyone else had disappeared; there was no one left to take his anger out on. This girl was his. His reward for a job well done, his prize.

“Fuck yes. Look at the way she’s squirming; she loves it,” he said, inching his good hand between their pressed chests to run his fingertips over a pink nipple. The girl’s body responded accordingly, hardening under his touch.

Archer hummed in approval from above him as he kneeled down between his spread legs and ran his hands over the girl’s back. Her flesh erupted in goose bumps all over and she arched up ever so slightly to the touch with a quiet gasp.

The girl’s face was buried loosely in the crook of Kimbley’s neck and he nudged it aside, attacking her neck with teeth and tongue. She bucked her hips into his, squealing deep within her throat and grasping him weakly. The alchemist wasn’t sure if she was trying to push away or pull herself closer, but when her hand found meager purchase on the edge of his left shoulder, he howled and shoved her by her breast, nearly knocking her off his body altogether.

“Fuck! Keep her away from there!” he cried, eyes squeezed shut and panting. He grabbed his throbbing shoulder and gritted his teeth through the fading pain.

Surprisingly, Archer reacted quickly, catching and steadying the girl before she was launched to the floor. Kimbley was angrier still, but glad she wasn’t hurt quite yet. It wouldn’t do to harm her before they had their fun. It was much more fun to fuck the conscious; he could say that from experience. Fucking the unconscious was boring, really. Kimbley liked to hear them beg.

“I thought you said you were fine?” Archer asked him calmly, his eyebrow raised doubtfully.

“You shut the fuck up,” Kimbley replied angrily, “get her back over here; I’m gonna’ fuck her till she cries. And hold her arms!”


----


No!

Alphonse felt a strong hand wrap around his wrists, pinning them together behind his back as he was pushed back onto the man below him. His knees painfully cut and bruised against the sandy floor and the sides of his thighs brushed against the man’s hips. He tested his throat and his tongue, trying to vocalize his anger and let his captors know that he was absolutely not interested, that he needed help, but all he managed was a series of moans and grunts.

This can’t be… how am I…

Frustration with not being able to communicate welled in his chest while his oversized breasts swung gently, his new nipples lightly grazing the body below him. It felt a lot better than he wanted it to.

His wrists hurt, his knees hurt, his arms were being pulled back and up at a painful and unnatural angle, but there was still a small part of him that shamefully craved the slight touch beneath him. The rough hand grasping his new anatomy carelessly felt better to him than he would ever later admit and it just added fuel to the chaotic bonfire he found himself in upon awakening.

The angle he was being held in left his face nowhere to go but down, mashed into the smooth surface of someone’s chest. The overpowering scent of sweat, dirt and blood filled his nostrils, causing his head to throb. He tried to struggle, to pull his hands free of the man’s grip behind him, to squirm away from the man below him, but it was no use. He was too weak and too unaccustomed to his new body.

He whimpered feebly as a hand pushed down forcefully on his upraised lower back, forcing his thighs to part, his knees to scrape over the stone floor and his weight to rest entirely on the man below him, where he felt an uncomfortable and unmistakable hardness between his legs. It was warm, so very warm, and he felt it twitch against his body, nestled between folds of skin that he knew he didn’t have five years ago.

It was all too much to handle at once.

It wasn’t fair. He finally got a body back and though it wasn’t his, it was still better than armor. He should have been safe with his brother, getting used to his new body and trying to find a way to get back his real one. They had come so far and sacrificed so much; he was so close, so close to the answer! But here he was, held captive and violated, weak as a kitten, with two men who had no idea he was really a boy; a young and scared boy who just wanted his brother, who couldn’t help his natural reaction to touch, couldn’t help being drawn to the electric sensations that he had been deprived of for too long. No one should ever have to go without them like he did. He thought he would have never wished that torture on anyone, not even his most hated of enemies, but as he felt a wet mouth slide across his neck and firm fingers slide between the soft folds of his strange, feminine body, the heavy weight of self doubt rested upon his shoulders.


----


Archer and his subordinate advanced on their objective at the same time, one with tongue and lips, the other with probing fingers. At the intrusion, the girl tensed between them and offered whines muffled in the crook of a slim neck before resuming her futile squirming.

Archer leaned over the girl’s back, still gripping her wrists, to gaze into Kimbley’s eyes, partially shielded by the girl’s fine hair draped over his face. Kimbley’s eyes rose slowly, his mouth encircling the juncture of her neck and shoulder, scraping his teeth predatorily over her skin. The deeper and more insistently Archer probed, the more the girl squirmed, the more enchanting Kimbley’s eyes became, piercing into his own. With every twist, every struggle, she slid her body over Kimbley’s erection, teasing the alchemist to madness.

Archer could see it in his eyes.

Kimbley was almost there, almost at that point of complete abandon, where Archer could not tell whether the man was lost in desire or mania. As much as his own cock ached, as much as he wanted to thrust into the girl himself, neither of them would get the pleasure until his alchemist had reached that point, the point of primal, unabashed hunger that always kept Archer coming back for more.


----


Alphonse keened as another quiver wracked through his body. The man’s fingers within him scratched at his delicate new parts, but the obvious erection between his legs, sliding and shifting, lit his body on fire. As teeth and tongue scraped across the sensitive skin of his neck and as fingers pinched and pulled at his nipples, he wanted to beg them to stop and never leave him all at once. He wanted to kill and thank them. He wished he could clap his hands and free himself, he wished someone would save him; Brother, the military… hell, even the homunculus Greed treated him with more respect.

Yet, at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to live forever in the bliss and touch that these unnamed men gave him, no matter how overpowering it was.

The one beneath him groaned into Alphonse’s neck before rolling his hips upwards, sending vibrations coursing down the boy-turned-girl’s spine and a shock of white-hot heat erupting in his belly as the man’s hardness purposely brushed against something that appreciated the attention very much. In Alphonse’s short time in his real body, he had experienced the feeling of arousal plenty of times, experimenting as children do. It was brilliant and relaxing and heady, but different than now. This time, he ached on the outside; a small point of throbbing heat that spread like a blush deep within his thighs and belly, quaking his entire body in cathartic spasms that made him feel like a world unto himself. His already muddled vision blanched and swirled, his insides tensed and released in rhythmic waves, he sweated, drew sharp breaths and wailed.

----


There it was, that spark in Kimbley’s eyes of deviousness and life and love of everything wrong. Archer’s erection jumped in his trousers when Kimbley’s half-lidded eyes glazed at the sound of the girl’s orgasm, his breath quickening as he seemed to look straight through Archer. Her release had been violent and impressive and wet. It rocked her entire body, inside and out. Her wetness dripped slowly down, coating Kimbley’s erection and the distinctive aroma of sex filled the small room they had locked themselves in.

The girl was visibly drained; she was panting and spent, her body flushed. The weak tension and resistance in her arms in Archer’s hands was entirely gone and so he released them, knowing that if she tried to fight, it would be even easier to overpower her.

Archer found his patience wearing thin. He braced himself with one hand on the floor and he leaned over the two bodies below him, gaining full viewing access to Kimbley’s wolfish eyes as he eased his fingers out of the girl, her abundant wetness creating a symphony of noise of the simple act in the quiet room. The two men’s eyes locked, lust clouding both of their visions and Archer slid his hand beneath the girl to grip Kimbley’s cock. A small smirk flipped up the corner of Archer’s mouth when the alchemist’s eyelids twitched, his brows furrowing slightly, waiting expectantly.

“Do it,” Kimbley hissed below the girl, his breath puffing her hair off his lips briefly, “Do it.”

Archer’s smirk broadened slowly and he leaned back to lift her slightly and guide Kimbley’s cock inside of her, pausing first to tease him with his hand. He always loved the feel of Kimbley’s erection; long and skinny, just like its owner. Archer always thought the softness belied his nature, but the heat and strength befitted him entirely.

----

Kimbley gasped as he slipped inside her with ease, the nails of his good hand digging into the soft flesh of her breast, his other hand straining at his side. It took a serious exercise of will to keep himself from using it, knowing that it would only bring himself pain, but wanting to take control and move anyway.

At first she seemed unconscious, which just wouldn’t do at all, but as his length penetrated her, she came to life. Though she seemed weaker than before, there was an underlying feistiness to her nature that just would not quit and Kimbley found he rather liked that about her. No matter how futile it seemed – and was – she never gave up; it would be fun proving to her it was useless.

He slipped inside her to the hilt, his length entirely engulfed, throbbing and impatient. The angle was perfect. The head of his cock nudged the sensitive barrier of her cervix and she jolted at the feeling, regaining what she had of her strength and awareness. Kimbley rocked his hips up and ground into her, hissing in his breath through his teeth, his eyes drifting shut. He smiled wide as she whimpered with each slow thrust, but it quickly faded when she started to move, trying to lift and support herself on his chest.

She grappled dangerously close to his aching shoulder and he swatted at her quickly, his eyes shooting open to glare at his commanding officer who sat mesmerized, enjoying the view with half lidded eyes. Archer was always watching him. He had that usual smug smirk on his face, but his normally pallid brow was tinged with pink and shining with sweat. Kimbley found it unnerving and exciting at the same time. While he loved to be watched, to know that just the view of him alone was making someone else want to fuck, the fact that Archer was always hesitating and making him wait while he got his jollies off being a little voyeur was so annoying.

“What the fuck are you doing,” he growled lowly at the man, lifting his head off the floor to see better, but continuing his slow pace inside the girl, the sensations of his rolling hips caused his own voice to falter, “grab her arms, tie her up, DO something, fuck!”

The girl moaned and struggled in response and Kimbley grabbed her by the hair, tight at the base of her skull, lifting her head back and staring coldly into distant, bronze eyes.

“We’re going to fuck you,” he annunciated with a cruel laugh, “If you’re going to fight, you’ll have to do better than that.” His eyes flicked up to Archer’s, noting that he had finally emerged from his slow fucking stupor. The man had removed his military jacket and was using its sleeves to bind the girl’s arms together behind her back.

Movement caught Kimbley out of the corner of his eye, however, and he looked back at the girl’s clumsily working mouth, “No.” she rasped, eyes unfocused and glassy.

“No?” He mimicked with a barking laugh, “Sure, kid.” He replied, all sarcasm and boredom, dropping her head back to his chest and lowering his hand to her hip. The girl made all sorts of protesting noises, kicking her legs ineffectively, but all they connected with was air.

His eyes once more locked with Archer’s, gazing for a moment, watching him the way stoic man usually did. Archer was slowly, purposefully unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them upwards, preparing for action. It was about damn time.

Kimbley’s callused hand gripped the skin of the girl’s shapely hip as he gave his first real thrust. Her breasts cushioned her and she rolled forward on them from the force, her nipples rubbing against his skin, her movement forward increasing the friction of Kimbley’s cock within her.

His eyes rolled backwards and he thrust into her again, harder, just to hear her whine.

----

And Alphonse did whine. The man’s cock felt huge inside of him, filling him and stretching him. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would and whatever pain he did experience quickly melted away, but it all was such a confusing feeling that he couldn’t quite compare to anything else he had ever experienced. There was so much pressure in his lower abdomen with each thrust, so much friction and wetness. The man drove himself in and slammed harshly against something deep within him, which hurt so much at first, but with each passing thrust, each pant and grunt, he found that in spite of the pain, he needed to feel the man deeper. He very nearly ached with the instinctive want.

He rocked upon the man, his breasts rolling with the force, all slick with sweat between their bodies. His new anatomy felt hot, burning inside and out as he rubbed against the man’s pelvis below him. He felt his insides clench and release around the man’s erection, sending waves roiling through his belly, radiating out and fading away. His outer folds burned, that extra sensitive spot between them throbbed and ached with every clumsy sway of his body.

He cried out with each inward thrust, hissing in air the man pulled out. He took a few deep breaths and the sensations increased within him, moaning louder and more clearly against the man’s shoulder, mixing their cries together. Alphonse’s voice had gained strength since he first awoke and he could feel more power in his muscles, more control, but he was still trapped and bound, completely at their mercy.

He was so close to release, so ready to unfold, but seemed stuck in time, waiting for that extra kick, frustrated and tense. He thrashed his head and moaned deeply, mumbling nonsense into the man’s skin. He rocked his hips frantically, trying to increase the friction against the firm body below him, but it wasn’t until he felt a slick finger trail up between his thighs, circling around the sensitive skin of his anus, that he was able to come for the second time.


----

Archer watched the girl’s hands ball into fists behind her back as she shuddered and wailed, jerking and twitching and panting. He rounded his finger around her entrance and pushed in slowly while she was distracted, her body still shuddering with aftershocks.

He had been quietly enjoying the show, his own cock free of his trousers, dripping precome and jumping in his hand as he teased it, but the frenetic jerking of Kimbley’s hips meant he wasn’t going to last much longer, despite the man’s impressive stamina.

The will of an alchemist apparently extended on to other activities, but perhaps Archer had waited a bit too long. No matter; they had never been ones to foolishly expect some romantic notion of synchronicity, but he was intrigued by the idea of them both taking this girl at the same time. If the experience lasted unsatisfactorily shorter than normal, perhaps they could just try again if they had the time. He was sure Kimbley would not be opposed to the idea.

As the girl’s body calmed, she moaned pitifully and coughed faintly before speaking once more. Archer could hear her voice over the slapping of Kimbley’s body against hers, but he couldn’t quite make out what she said. Whatever it was, it caused the alchemist to grin sadistically and pound into her harder.

Archer smirked. Kimbley was ever ruthless, just like himself; it’s what he enjoyed the most about the alchemist.

He eased his finger out and swiped his hand once more against the girl’s wetness before plunging two back in impatiently, causing the girl to seize up and whine.

“Please… Stop,” she pleaded louder, her voice high and delicate, cracking under the strain.

Crimson’s grin widened and he laughed almost maniacally, “Do it!” he shouted, “Fuck her, damnit!”

Archer couldn’t suppress his amusement. He loved to see Kimbley like that, filled with pure joy and wickedness. It was disturbingly childlike but delightfully depraved; so wild and untamable, except by himself.

His fingers felt wonderful within her, wrapped in the delicate but firm silk of her inner muscles. She could probably stand to use a bit more finesse in her preparation, but what the Crimson Alchemist demanded, he had the mind to oblige, and quickly. He lightly rested his other hand at the base of Kimbley’s cock and the man stilled, confused at the attention.

“Just a moment,” he said, easing Kimbley’s cock out of her. The girl gave a very loud sigh of relief and began an uttered ‘thank you’, but when the tip of Archer’s erection pushed into her, her words caught in her throat, transforming into a moan of denial.

Archer thrust into her a few times, coating his cock in her wetness before pulling out again reluctantly. She felt absolutely lovely, but he had other plans. He raised her hips once more and let Kimbley re-enter her, then removed his own fingers and lined himself up to her anus, pressing in slowly. The girl sucked in an audible breath and clenched her fists once more.

“No!” she cried, loud and long as Archer’s length slowly disappeared with in her. It was exceptionally tight, exceptionally slick and exceptionally warm. His fingers dug into her hips and he could feel Kimbley’s cock within her, only separated by a thin barrier of flesh. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning his head back, relishing in the way her muscles twitched around him and the way her voice hitched when she sobbed.

----

The sharp, radiating pain Alphonse felt as he was slowly stretched wider than he was ready for made his breath catch and a strained grimace spread across his face. His eyes burned with the familiar sting of salt as he teared and when it was time again to breathe, his voice ripped from his throat in a strangled moan.

The man slipped further in and settled, thankfully giving him a little time to adjust, but it really didn’t make it any easier to bear. He found himself wishing something he thought he never would upon getting a human body back – he wished he could have his armor again. In the armor he was empty and alone, always feeling as though he was locked away in a distant place no matter how close to his friends and family he actually was, but at least there was no pain; not physically, anyway.

Through his experiences, Alphonse had learned very quickly to cope with the sting of emotional distress, for that was all he was capable of sensing. It had become rather easy for him to deal with; he was calm and collected, a creature which knew nothing of panic, only calculated reactions and logical retorts. It would only take someone he truly loved to be able to purposefully break through the emotional barrier he erected over his heart and bring him grief.

But pain, physical pain… no matter how much he trained and how much he lived, it seemed he would never be immune to it, and considering he had gone so long without, it all came crashing down around him like a broken levy. His hypersensitivity betrayed him, sending searing stings down his legs and into his spine. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t focus on anything but it and he begged them both to stop.

But his pleas were met only with small, self satisfied moans and hands that roamed over the curves of his back and thighs in a mocking gesture of affection.

The man behind him muttered something to himself, but Alphonse was too distracted to decipher the words, struggling to regain his breath and his self control. As they both moved within him tentatively, sliding in disorganized rhythm, the sense of complete and utter fullness underneath the pain was both uncomfortable and horrifyingly satisfying.

He eventually became accustomed to the new intrusion, his muscles relaxing and accepting, and the men found a workable pace. As the one below thrust in, the one behind pulled out and vice versa, quickly falling in to tempo and increasing the power and quickness of their thrusts.

Alphonse was shocked at how sensitive the rings of his muscles were; the slick sliding stroked them pleasantly, driving him down harder onto the man’s pelvis below him. The familiar warmth spread through his body there, twitching and hitching and shuddering. He found his moans and grunts reflected something other than pain entirely and found he very nearly felt a pang of loss as they pulled out, of satisfaction as they thrust in, of need and edge and want. It was degrading, disgusting; something not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but just there and good for the time being.


----

The Crimson Alchemist arched his back and tilted his head, baring his throat with a groan. There was something terribly satisfying about feeling that stoic Colonel sliding against him inside the girl, buffered though it was. It was almost better than seeing that little flush in his face, of watching his eyes slip closed, his mouth parting slightly. Sex was the only time the bastard let anything show in his face other than anger or annoyance, which is usually what Kimbley evoked from the man; he had that kind of effect on people.

But satisfying as it was, he knew it wasn’t going to last much longer. He thrust into the girl wildly, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tilting her face up so he could see the play of sensation over her face as she moaned. Her hair was matted down by sweat, her lips dry, her eyes unfocused and wet.

”Fuck,” he groaned up at her breathlessly, “I could kill your right now, you know. Blow that pretty little face right off.”

He heard Archer groan from above him.

“Yeah, I know how much you like that,” he smiled up at Archer wickedly, “that’s what I love about you, sir,” he continued, annunciating sarcastically, “you’re even more of a sick fuck than I am.”

“Fuck you,” the Colonel grunted, accentuating each word with a rough thrust.

“No, no. Fuck her,” Kimbley’s eyes rolled back and he pressed the girl’s face back down to his shoulder, fisting her hair in a tight grip, “God, I’m gonna’ come.”

Kimbley bent forward, teeth bared, and growled long and loud into the girl’s hair as he gave his last few violent thrusts. His body shuddered and he fell back against the floor, eyes closed and panting loudly, lazy smile plastered across his face.

----


Archer smirked slightly at the spent alchemist from above, slowing to a leisurely pace inside the weak girl. She was trembling and weeping quietly below him, rocking back and forth between their bodies. Once Kimbley caught his breath and opened his eyes, Archer pulled out of the girl completely and unbound her hands.

Her arms fell to her sides limply and she breathed in a deep sigh before muttering near-unintelligible words of thanks to no one in particular. She tried to lift herself from Kimbley below her, but her muscles seemed to not want to cooperate. She trembled with fatigue and rolled off him instead, her legs tangling in Archer’s.

Archer watched Kimbley’s eyes travel down his mostly-clothed body to rest on his still very erect and glistening cock, rising proudly from the front of his undone trousers. Kimbley lifted an eyebrow questioningly and Archer’s smirk grew wider in response, blue eyes locked with yellow as he reached down to untangle the girl’s limp legs from his own, spreading them wide before him. The girl gasped in surprise, thinking that the ordeal was over, and vainly tried to close her legs, babbling pleading words, but Archer’s grip was firm.

Archer felt a thrill up his spine as his alchemist smiled slowly, rolling over on his good side to watch him position himself between her legs. The girl tried to fight Archer off, lifting her arms and pressing her palms against his chest, but they were easily swatted away.

Archer swiped his hand roughly in the girl’s wetness and brought the mixture to his cock, coating it thickly before rubbing the head of his erection up and down her slit, pausing to pay special attention to the swollen nub of her clitoris. Her thighs jerked violently in response and he rubbed himself against her in circles until she wailed and shuttered once more, appreciating the way her muscles contracted beneath her skin and how quickly she responded.

Next to them, Kimbley whistled appreciatively as she panted and clutched at the sandy floor. Her reactions seemed to be getting less impressive as time passed and she became more and more weary. Not wanting her to slip unconscious before Archer was through with her, he pressed himself back against her lower entrance and swung his eyes over to Kimbley’s once more.

“You didn’t think I was finished, did you?” he questioned the man teasingly as he sunk back into the girl with ease. She responded for him with a wail of denial, begging Archer to stop, to let her go.

Archer broke his eyes away from the wiry alchemist stretched out languidly beside him and leaned down, grabbing hold of the girl’s breast with one hand and restraining one of her feebly fighting arms with the other. His entire weight rested on her then and he thrust into her quickly. Her body shifted against the concrete floor with each plunge and she sobbed out raggedly as her skin scratched and tore, which only drove Archer faster.


----

Alphonse had thought it was over. His stomach had turned in disgust when he felt the man below him release and he had to fight with all his might to not retch. He thought it was over. He thought they were going to let him go, give him time to forget. He tried to fight, but was easily overpowered; he tried to think of arrays he could use to alchemically restrain them, but his mind was muddled and unfocused. He had nothing with which to draw an array anyway, nor a stable surface to draw it on. His limbs were shaky and the violent rocking of the man inside him made his hands even more unsteady; he wouldn’t be able to draw a working array even if he had the tools, and if he could somehow accomplish that much, he probably wouldn’t have the mental strength to even activate it, much less control it.

Never in his short life had he ever wished so strongly for his brother’s circle-less ability. Not having to draw an array was one step towards freedom that Alphonse didn’t have. All he’d need is one little alchemic reaction to startle them, bluff them into thinking he had more power than they thought. He could use it to his advantage; force them to bring him to their commanding officer, or to frighten them into running away and never looking back.


Alphonse tried to block out the sensations and he didn’t register the person scooting up next to him until he was breathing directly into his ear. It was the first man, his first rapist, back for more; he could tell by the overpowering stench of blood and dirt.

”How does it feel?” he whispered cruelly into Alphonse’s ear, his hot breath raising goose bumps along his neck. Alphonse turned his head away from the man’s voice, unintentionally nuzzling into the other man’s neck and baring his own wider to the one who stunk of blood.

The man next to him chuckled lowly and moved in closer. Alphonse’s head was trapped between both of theirs-- one panting and grunting heatedly, the other nipping ruthlessly at his skin. He choked back a sob, knowing that every sound he made just spurred them on.

This isn’t your body. It’s alright.

A particularly rough thrust sent Alphonse’s back scraping along the floor and he cried out, baring his teeth against the pain, unable to hold it inside.

This isn’t you, here. This isn’t you.

The man pulled out of him almost completely then, before shoving back in at full force and repeating. The pressure inside Alphonse was almost unbearable.

Brother…


Where was he? Alphonse had gone to Liore to find him. He was there somewhere, he knew it! Brother would come for him; he would come looking and he would find him.

When Alphonse’s fourth orgasm rolled through his body, fluttering around the man inside of him, visions of golden fury danced through his mind.

----


Archer felt the girl shudder weakly beneath his body and around his cock before he heard her whimper. It was soft at first and all but drowned by their frantically panted breaths, but her lilting cries lengthened to a whine and deepened to a sob as her fatigue and frustration reached their pinnacle.

Archer squeezed her breast roughly and shuddered himself, quickly nearing the end, encouraged by her tears.

“PLEASE!”, she cried raggedly between breaths, “PLEASE, NO MORE!”

Archer thrust into her wildly, her wide-spread legs bouncing forward and back with each plunge, his exposed skin slapping against her wetly.

Archer heard Kimbley groan next to them and he lifted his head lazily from the girl’s shoulder to find out why. Kimbley had pulled away from the girl and kneeled to get a better view. The hand of his good arm was caressing his half-limp cock idly and he was watching them with that same look in his eyes from earlier, from every sexual or deadly encounter of his that Archer had ever witnessed.

“You’re close,” Kimbley commented to no one in particular, his half-lidded eyes trailing hazily between Archer’s frantic hips and the girl’s grimaced face.

Archer never ceased his pounding and offered only a grunt as a reply, his eyes rolling briefly as another wave of pleasure surged through his lower body.

“Wait for me,” Kimbley whispered, shuffling closer to them on his knees, his cock next both of their faces.

Archer slowed and lengthened his pace, shuddering into the girl as he tried to prolong the inevitable. The girl howled her denial, squinting up at the alchemist above her, pleading to be let go. Archer ground into her, trembling against her skin, doing everything in his power to hold off for his partner in crime.

When the man next to him groaned long and loud, his pinked erection glistening in his hand, Archer felt the sound shoot straight to his groin, deep inside, undulating and roiling forth.

----

As if fucking her hadn’t been enough for Kimbley, watching his commanding officer pound her into the ground was even better. The man’s normally pristine hair was tousled; his uniform was wrinkled, dirty, covered in sweat and come; he positively reeked of pussy and musk and grime.

It was going to be a great next couple of days. Kimbley was going to fuck him until they were both raw and then he was going to fuck him again. After all he had done that day, all the filthy Liorian dogs he’d slaughtered… He’d even screwed up his shoulder fighting for that overeager Colonel; he was going to be paid his dues. While this girl they’d found was a nice surprise, a nice reward, she wasn’t enough. Fuck, it was too much. He had to get it all out.

It didn’t take long for him to reach his peak, his hand sliding quickly up and down his shaft, squeezing the head. The girl tried to turn her head away from him, but when he’d moved closer, his knee had come to rest upon her hair, spread wildly around her head like a golden halo. On the other side, her hair was trapped by her own arm, firmly pinned down by Archer’s grip. She was stuck, unable to turn her face left or right, her hair tugging at her scalp either way.

Kimbley smirked at Archer, whose forehead rested against the girl’s collarbone. The man’s back was arched high as he slid into her slowly. Sweat dripped down his face onto the girl’s chest and his breathing was strained, obviously trying to control himself. Kimbley recalled that the man was never very good with sexual restraint. He’d once made the mistake of laughing about it, only to be met with the business end of a pistol.

He’d been asked to apologize to it. He did it with his tongue.


“Tell me… when…” the Colonel breathed. Luckily for him, Kimbley had a very healthy libido.

He grunted quietly and shortened his strokes, concentrating on the sensitive ridge of his head. He jutted his hips out and aimed down, his breath quickening. Archer’s hips joined the pace of his hand and the girl screamed when they did, her mouth opening wide just in time to catch the first few drops of Kimbley’s orgasm.


----


Archer watched the rest of it dot along the girl’s cheek, mixing with her tears, before Kimbley sat back on his haunches and just breathed. She tried to turn her head away and she spit and gagged when it entered her mouth, but they had effectively pinned her in place, no matter how unintentionally.

Her screaming was hoarse and music to Archer’s ears as he quickly approached his long overdue orgasm. Slowing down to wait for Kimbley had caused the wetness on his cock to evaporate slightly; plunging back into the girl must have been extremely painful for her, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was about to come and when he did, he was going to do it all over her face.

She begged him to stop again, sobbing and howling, but Archer ignored her, concentrating only on himself. She cried out for help, finally conscious enough and strong enough to project, but it was pointless; it would all be over soon anyway.

Archer moaned long and loud, his body giving one last final quake as he pulled out abruptly and jumped up to straddle her torso. He rested his weight on the hand restraining her arm against the floor and he pumped his cock down towards her face, his body folding in on itself abruptly as he growled his release, bucking his hips forward, pumping and squeezing and gasping.

There was much more than Kimbley’s. The first shot hit her forehead, near her hairline, and roped down over the bridge of her nose. She had clamped her eyes and mouth shut and Archer was vaguely disappointed that he wouldn’t have the pleasure of a direct hit, but he was in no place to complain. The second wave shot over her cheek, mixing with Kimbley’s come and dripping down to the ground. The rest of it peppered over her lips and chin as he squeezed his tip, making sure to give her every last drop.

She looked disgusting and beautiful. Her smooth skin was trailed in thick, white come, glistening tears and the smears of someone else’s blood. He wiped his cock on her cheek before rolling off her to catch his breath, leaning back on his hands. The front of pants was soaked through with sweat and the girl’s come; it was cold and sticky and uncomfortable, but worth it. He wondered vaguely how he was going to make himself presentable enough to leave their locked little room, but Kimbley would probably know some way to alchemize their clothes clean.

With her hair free, the girl rolled over onto her side, drawing her knees up and weeping quietly. When she opened her mouth to breathe, Archer’s come dripped inside and she coughed violently, spitting and gagging and retching emptily.

“Why,” she whispered, mumbling to herself around hitching breaths.

Kimbley had tilted his head back, relaxing in his afterglow and Archer gazed at him through his own haze, admiring the lines of his neck and the way his muscles bobbed when he swallowed. There was blood caked along his wounded shoulder and spattered all over his body, dirt was packed into the creases around his neck, deepening them and accenting them. The leather tie of his hair had come lose, spilling his black mane down his back in a thick fall and over his shoulder in matted strands. He looked raw and dangerous, just the way Archer liked him.

“Why,” she whispered again and Kimbley’s mouth quirked in a small smile, “…Brother…”

Archer’s consciousness gained clarity at a surprising rate and Kimbley’s smile halted as he brought his chin down slowly, a faint look of confusion furrowing his brow.

“…Colonel… Brother… why…”

Archer and Kimbley’s eyes locked as the realization set in.


That voice. There was a certain ring to it, a familiar tone, high and sweet with just a little hint of young whine… but it was different.

The girl hiccupped softly and called for her brother again, for a colonel, for anyone.

She sounded different because she was a girl.

She sounded different because she wasn’t suit of armor.

Eyes that wide could only belong to one family.

----


There was a sudden rush of noise and movement around Alphonse and he cringed in fear, hugging his knees tighter to his chest, hiding his wet face between them. He wanted to clean himself, but at the same time, was too disgusted to touch his face. It was irrational and he knew it, but the thought of getting… it on his hands…

He had to find something else to wipe himself. Besides, his face was not the only part of him that needed tending and his hands would not help him everywhere else.

His back was sticky with sweat and sand and it stung with hundreds of tiny cuts and scrapes, especially along his spine, rubbed raw against the stone floor. However, the worst of his ails was much lower. He could feel the horrible, wet slide of fluids leaking from between his legs. It was maddeningly slow and his skin made sickening, soppy noises with even the slightest movement. His inner muscles involuntarily contracted as they readjusted and retightened from his violation, stinging and dry, torn, swollen and irritated.

His entire body hurt again, but for different reasons. He was worn out. He hadn’t even the had time to appreciate his new body before being overpowered and violated.

He had no more tears left to cry. Even if he had, his tormentors wouldn’t have even given him time to do that.

Three hands grabbed him and roughly rolled him to his back. Alphonse blinked up at them tiredly, his vision improving. He saw their dark hair, one cut long, the other short. One wore an obvious, blue, military uniform, the other, just skin. They seemed to be arguing with him, or maybe with each other. He didn’t care; he just wanted them to leave him be.

“What’s your name?!” the short-haired one barked, grabbing a hold of his jaw and squeezing, his warm fingers sliding and sticking in the fluids they had put there.

“Fuck this, just leave her. If they find her--“ the long-haired one argued.

“He is an alchemic gold mine. I would think you’d be interested in him.” The first speaker interrupted.

That one… is an alchemist?

Could it be…?

“I’d be interested in blow--\"

“A-Alphonse Elric,” he interrupted weakly, “My brother…”

There was silence above him for a few moments and his clouded eyes flicked back and forth between to the two forms.

The last thing he saw before slipping once again into the darkness of unconsciousness was the short-haired man’s hand flying down towards his head, grasping a dark, heavy object like a weapon.