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The Price of Information.	By : RiekaDeVolka Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 753 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Price of Information.
- 1
Title: The
Price of Information.

Beta: Clover.

Rating: NC-17.

Genre: PWP with a tiny dash of angst. Also, mild non-con, manipulation,
semi-prostitution, BDSM, blood play.

Pairings: Hughes/Greed.

Feedback: Please! Feed my crazy!

Word Count: +/- 2 600.

Summary: It had been too good to be true, of course. Who would give out
information for free?

Notes: Written for the fma_fuh_q month challenge, Hughes. Set in
manga-verse, between the escape from the fifth lab and Maes� well. You get the
point. Also, this gives �topping from the bottom� a whole new definition.

~�~�~

The Price of Information.

~�~�~

A hand, Maes felt distinctively, tracing
lazy patters over his back, fingers teasing the tense muscles under his skin.
Then of course, the rest of the sensations came full force and he choked a gasp
against the satin sheets. Every nerve in his body protested with a cramp and
his head ached furiously as if a thousand explosions took place within his
skull. It was like hearing Armstrong rambling about family honor and whatnot,
except this time Maes had no means to stop the torture. He was lying on his
chest, he noted once his mind cleared enough to form coherent thoughts, with a
delicious satin sheet twisted beneath him and a wicked hand doing all kinds of
innocent things that felt not innocent at all. And then came the voice� and
with it, Maes� world crumbled.

�My, my, finally awake, are we?�

That voice, raspy in a strangely smooth
way, it was the same one that had cornered him outside the Headquarters,
offering what he needed if he wasn�t afraid to take it. He hadn�t been, but
now, naked and being touched languidly by the owner of that voice, Maes began
to wish he had been. Greed. He�d said his name was Greed. It was strange name
for a strange man, but then again, �Envy� had saved Ed from a rather tortuous
fate back at Lab five a couple of nights before. Maes really didn�t know in
what type of world he lived in anymore, if Sins roamed around the city like
they owned it.

�I�m glad you accepted the deal,� Greed
said, his fingertips suddenly sharp and stinging against Maes back, �I haven�t
had someone sign a deal with me in ages.�

And then it started.

Those sharp claws � because there wasn�t
anything else they could be � slicing the skin of his back with precise,
measured movements, only lifting a small layer of skin, not even enough to
leave a scar, but certainly enough to sting like a bitch. Maes tensed against
better thought, but reigned his instincts on time, before he could attempt to
pull back. Somehow, he knew that he wouldn�t survive the night if he did.

�It�s really quite a curious thing, my
dear.�

The rumbling voice, breathing over the
petty wounds, each word accenting the sting and making him tense all over. Maes
buried his face against his folded arms, inhaling the scent of spice in the bed
sheets and vowing to God he was not going to look. It was part of the deal,
after all. He hadn�t been blindfolded, which would have made everything easier,
but then again, this �Greed� didn�t seem like the sort of fellow who would make
things easier on anyone. He clenched his eyes shut and didn�t really fought the
tendrils of arousal that began to drip through his limbs as a long tongue found
his back.

�What you�re looking for,� Greed said
between licks, sounding amused but not perturbed by the circumstances in the
slightless, �Is standing right before your eyes. You see it every other day,
too, I�m sure.�

Teeth. Oh god, the teeth. They were
like pointed needles, slicing cleanly over the skin that covered his shoulder
blades, nipping not too gently and making droplets of blood pour out slowly.
Maes had the hysterical notion that this was what his steak felt every time he
sliced it with a sawed knife. He choked on his laugh when Greed bit him again,
and he let out a hissing moan. Of pain or pleasure, he couldn�t be sure.

�The bastard always loved to be seen,�
Greed informed him, and Maes resented him for being coherent amidst the feast
he was having with his bloodied back, �Like a peacock. Always wanting to be admired,
loving each fucking second of it.� Teeth clamped down on his shoulder, fiercely
enough to wrench a loud cry out of his throat. Maes felt the blood slowly
oozing down his shoulder, felt nauseous when Greed licked it. And still, his
arousal didn�t wane, if anything, the quiet rivets that had been pouring
through his veins intensified dramatically. �Father should have named him Pride
instead.�

Pride.

Greed. Envy. Pride.

Maes knew there was a pattern there he had
to pick up, but just as he was coaxing his dozing neurons back to work, Greed
placed one of his disturbingly cold, disturbingly large hands on his
left thigh. Maes� neurons told him to screw it and then fled in fright, leaving
him shuddering as the pattern began again. The gentle fingers, then the sharp
claws, then the hot breath and that tantalizing tongue, and finally those
teeth.

Maes was going to dream about those teeth
until he died.

They just weren�t human. They were sharp
and pointed, and they made him feel delirious when they graced his skin
teasingly, drawing out the moment before they clamped down brutally on his
skin, tearing at it viciously. He was one bloody mess now, torn about just everywhere,
bleeding slowly into the bed and for some reason he really didn�t want to think
about too strongly, he was as hard as he could ever remember being under it
all. Greed must have noticed, though he hadn�t turned Maes around yet,
preferring to disfigure his back, his arms and his legs thoroughly before
moving onto new territory. He took an inordinate amount of time at his thighs
and his buttocks, and had Maes had enough peace of mind to think about it, he
would have blushed about it.

��but you�re a smart guy, I�m sure you can
figure it out on your own.� Belatedly � and deeply ashamed by it � Maes
realized Greed hadn�t stopped talking, clueing him about information he needed
desperately. He was desperate enough for it, he was lying on that bed, dripping
sweat and blood, stingy and horny beyond words, lulled to an almost sleepy
state as the sheer torture to his body continued. �I like the smart ones, they
take longer to break.�

Greed manhandled him as if he were
weightless, a fact that should have struck some sense of fear into Maes, but it
only made him moan miserably as the strong arms moved him easily. He did let
out a drawn out hiss when his back came in contact with the sheets, and
suddenly satin sheets weren�t such a good thing anymore. He kept his eyes
tightly shut, mouth slightly open when the fingers touched the small dip
between his collarbones, having by now memorized the routine. One of those
claws sliced cleanly over the aureole of his right nipple and Maes arched off
the bed, tense like a bowstring. Sweat slid down his face, icy cold against the
searing heat of his skin.

�Have you ever wondered what purpose does
the Military serve?� Greed was now blowing over his aching nipples. In a moment
of clarity, Maes noted he was doing nothing to his face � but whether that was
to keep him from seeing Greed�s face or because he didn�t want Maes to walk out
of there with the signs on his face, it wasn�t clear. �I�m sure you have. Tell
me, were you in the last war? I don�t know what war it was, but there�s always
a war.� Greed gave a particularly obscene lick to the hardened nub, before
catching it between his deadly teeth. Maes tensed in anticipation, mouth dry.
�Always.�

It took him a excruciatingly long moment
before he could gather his wits around him and kick his brain into any
semblance of working order, away from the lightheaded little sensation heaven
it was stuck in.

�Ishbal,� Maes said slowly, shivering when
the points of those terrifying teeth closed marginally on his skin, �It was
Ishbal.�

�The East then,� Greed retreated, and Maes
found, for some reason, that he missed the presence of that wicked mouth on the
shredded skin of his chest, �It won�t be long now.�

Nervously, Maes swallowed the question
when the deviant fingers found their way across his stomach, bypassing his
aching erection and exploring the smooth curve of his ass. His eyes shut, if
possible, even more tightly. God, not there. But still the thrill remained,
the dulled pain all over his body mellowing into a snaring low key pleasure
that made itself known by the throbbing arousal that stood almost proudly
against his lower belly. Greed took advantage of his distracted state to clamp
his deadly mouth on the juncture of leg and hip, and Maes gave out a loud whine
in reply, shuddering violently.

�It�s quite alright,� Greed lapped gently
at the wound, his fingers circling the tight ring of muscle almost patiently,
�I don�t want to break you just yet. I will, of course, but not now. It
wouldn�t be� satisfying.�

His arms were getting cramps from the
awkward position they were in, his elbows almost brushing the opposite ear and
his mouth hanging open in a perpetual shocked expression. He tried to keep
everything away from his brain, stray thoughts were dangerous when in the
clutches of such a clearly demented individual, but it was mostly guilt that
was begging to set him off. So far, the sheer agony his nerves were in � going
insane between the contradicting signals of pain and pleasure � had helped him
to not concentrate on dangerous things, like the scorching feeling of his
marriage ring on his finger, or the distant memory of his daughter at home.

�Mmm, let go already,� Greed coaxed in a
sickeningly serpentine tone, his tongue dragging the last syllable from the
base to the tip of his cock, and Maes felt the world narrow down considerable
at that point, �I want it� give it to me.�

Had the circumstances been different, Maes
would have burst out laughing at the corny, greedy demand, but as things
were, he simply moaned and writhed, arching his back again and planting his
feet firmly on the bed. The blood on his back was crusting already, leaving the
sheet stuck to his skin. The thought of moving away from the satin fabric at
some point in the future made him wince; it was not going to be pretty.

The fingers inside, not doing much to
prepare him as much as they were threatening him. He could feel them
move, slicked � he thought with a sick realization � with the copious amount of
blood that kept pouring out from his very pores, and adding to the lightheaded
sensation in the base of his spine that made reality a bit blurred and sharp at
the same time. He was already hanging by the edge, just a few thin tendrils
keeping him conscious.

Greed cut them all cruelly when he allowed
his teeth to lightly caress the head of his cock.

Tired and out of control, Maes allowed his
arms to lash out against the bed, hands clenching tightly on the soiled sheets.
His eyes were tightly closed, though, not wanting to see that� that thing
reducing him away to nothing. It was too much. Too much of that tongue lapping
wantonly at him, those fingers curling teasingly, silently promising to rip him
to shreds if he so much as breathed the wrong way. The spikes of arousal kept
coming, though, each one sharper than last, until Maes felt he was about to
fall into the dark abyss, forever swallowed in his own guilty need.

And then Greed stopped, withdrawing
completely from him, hands and tongue, leaving Maes shuddering each breath.

He whined, loud and clear, clenching each
muscle in his body in answer to the instinctual call that demanded release. He
was tempted to touch himself, to drag his own hand across the raw expanse of
his erection, rubbing the minor injuries until he came, but something told him
that would not be appreciated. And even if for some reason the past torture had
been eerily welcome, he really hoped to walk back home at some point.

Greed shuffled around the room, the sound
sharp and almost unbearably loud to Maes� straining ears as he heard a zipper
slid off and the rustle of clothes falling to the floor. The bed sank as the
other man crawled over to him, placing a knee at each side of his hips. And
then he spoke, in that lusty, absolutely evil tone that made Maes melt
down bonelessly against the bed.

�You can look at me now, you know?� Greed
leaned against him, though still keeping his weight on his bent legs, �I want
to see your eyes when you come. I want to see it all.�

The exact moment Maes opened his eyes,
Greed allowed gravity to drag him down against the aching member, swallowing
Maes greedily into a body that was too hot, too pliant, too hard and too
perfect.

He stared in dumb fascination at the
distinctive features of his captor and informant. Allowed his eyes to wonder
over the flexing muscles of the strong thighs that supported Greed�s weight, to
the man�s own arousal, jutting uncomfortably and daring Maes to reach out and touch.
Trailing higher, he saw the defined muscles, the strange markings on the body,
red lines that patterned over his arms, catching a fleeting glance at the
Oroborus tattoo on his hand before he saw the enraptured expression on his
face.

In that precise moment, Maes Hughes
understood what Greed was. What the unbearable wanting meant, the need
to have it all, all the time, at all times.

He had never been so close to heaven as in
the moment when Greed began clenching his muscles, creating a strange rippling
sensation that traveled the length of his cock, through his abdomen until it
settled into his very bones, sending Maes spiraling down to hell. When he began
moving, thrusting wildly and somehow knowing Greed really didn�t mind the rough
side of things, he condemned his soul to damnation. The sheets were plastered
to his back, crusted against the ungodly amount of blood that was still
escaping his pores, but he found he didn�t care. He sat down, a thousand little
cuts flaring to life with pain as he did so, and set the suddenly pliant Greed
against his chest, buckling his hips desperately.

Nearing the edge, Greed pulled back to
look at him, dark violet eyes � inhuman, devious, evil violet eyes � narrowing
on his own as he smiled, and the dreadful smile Maes had only imagined
materialized in front of him, inches away from his, surprisingly, unmarred
face.

Then Greed came, and unceremoniously
clasped his entire body into a tight knot that milked Maes for all he was
worth, his clawed hands sinking rather painfully at his shoulders and his teeth
closing on his neck viciously. When Maes reached climax, two seconds later, he
no longer was able to move under the sensory overflow and his world went black.
The last thing he remembered was Greed licking him up again, from the tip of
his toes to the roots of his hair, calmly cleaning up the mess � or more likely
to not waste the blood and semen and sweat that coated Maes� skin � and
sneering knowingly at him.

The next morning, he woke up sore and
stingy and mildly sticky in a back alley behind Headquarters, a couple of hours
before dawn. He never felt dirtier in his life - not in Ishbal, not after
killing someone - than the moment he came through the door and Gracia greeted
him with worried eyes. Privately, in that secret corner of his mind that was
solely inhabited by Sin, he had never felt more satisfied, either.
- 1
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The Price of Information.