Set to 350 degrees, keep in when boiling | By : jenniferdarknight Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 455 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Title: Set to 350
degrees, keep in when boiling
Fandom: Fullmetal
Alchemist
Pairing: Series!Roy x
Alfons x Alter!Roy, implied past onesided Alfons
x Alphonse
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut, Humor
Prompt: In a
Tight Spot
Warnings: Threesome,
PWP, dubious timeline, extremely AU, Kitchen-sex, man-sammich.
Note: There was
also art done with this fanfic, and you can find that
on my fanfic journal (http://community.livejournal.com/jen_fics),
but you have to be a member of the community in order to view it (as it is
friends-locked)
Disclaimer: I
don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist…and the characters depicted in sexual situations
in this fic are older than 18.
The kitchen was a sacred place. This was where you
cooked and stored your food…where you received sustenance when you were
famished…where you got drinks when you were thirsty…
This was Alfons Heiderich’s
personal domain, besides his workshop in the basement. Where he spent his time
working, perfecting his skills…
Providing for the two Roys
who somehow found themselves taking refuge in his
much-too-large home. The same two Roys
who couldn’t even make a proper bowl of soup without setting it aflame somehow.
The same two Roys who had managed to lure him into
their bed.
Narcissism, it was called. To love oneself…though in
their case it was that they had sex with each other despite the fact that they
looked the same…and the two of them dragged poor Alfons right along for the
ride.
Sort of like now.
There’s
something wrong with this, this isn’t right,
Alfons thought hazily, struggling a bit against Roy’s iron grip as the
other licked at his much-too-happy erection. This is a kitchen, for God’s
sake. We eat in here…God, I’m going to have to clean up this mess…
He had to check on dinner soon, too. It would burn if
he left it in the oven too long.
Too bad the Roy holding him fast had his ass quite firmly planted
against the oven door. And convincing him was useless too…
Maybe there’s a
way to get past them…oh God, if I don’t stop this, the whole kitchen will burn
down—
“AAAHH!!!”
Alfons could feel Roy—the General Roy, the one who
Edward had complained so much about when he was in Munich—curl his lips around
him, sucking on him instead of merely licking. His clothes had already been
shed, tossed helter-skelter around the kitchen floor, though Alfons wasn’t
exactly sure where they were (it was hard to even think with that mouth on him
like that…and ohgod,
was the other Roy starting to nibble on his neck?!). His own pants were merely
bunched around his thighs, suspenders almost torn off and tossed aside
somewhere…
And his shirt.
His poor, poor shirt.
The other Roy—the one holding him back—was always too eager. Much more fiery than the General…
So eager in fact that he had ripped his shirt in
half, and it too was lying somewhere on the floor…probably near the General’s
discarded uniform.
Clothes are
expensive here…and with my wages, I just can’t buy those on a whi—
Alfons gasped, when he felt a sharp pinch on his
neck. Something like a bite.
“Alfons…” the Roy behind him had purred in his ear;
Alfons shivered, despite the hard, tight vicegrip
that the man was keeping his arms in, behind his back…
Wait.
Behind his back?
They were simply looped around his armpits earlier,
hoisting him up…
“Are you even paying attention?” A
low, throaty chuckle.
Alfons failed to see how them pinning him like this
was funny.
The other Roy’s mouth moved away from its previous task, looking up
and smirking at him.
“I don’t think he is.” He paused. “I think he’s a
little…distracted.”
Distracted?
Oh, good…he couldn’t smell anything burning…
“I think we should solve this problem quickly.” The Roy behind him mumbled.
“I agree.”
Wait, his distraction was a problem? What was going
o—
Alfons hardly had time to think about it, as already
large hands were easing him down to the floor. It was sneaky,
it was underhanded to do this…to be so pushy but not pushy all at the same damn
time. But what the hell? They were always like that
with him…at least when they wanted something, and then they somehow conned him
into wanting it (damn Roys and their manipulation
tactics…they were the same on both sides, and Alfons was starting to realize
just why Edward had taken such a horrible disliking to the man when he was his
superior in the military) took and took and took and never asked about it. Just
made his mouth, body, muscles, skin, and voice do everything that they wished
him to do.
The General was still sitting up; though his legs
were spread now, obvious erection up and at attention. He was older, but Roy was never big as he himself was…though the two Roys had often joked that his much too-large anatomy was
some sort of divine joke; Alfons was far too submissive to do the fucking
himself, and yet that cock of his was ideal to just impale yourself against.
Joke of fate, indeed.
The Roy on the floor looked up at the Roy behind him, quirking an eyebrow.
“Your clothes are still on,” he said.
“That they are,” the Roy at his back replied, moving Alfons to sit on his
hands and knees.
Hands and knees.
Oh Lord in Heaven.
“S-stop…” his protest was weak, dammit. He knew that.
He was so hard it hurt (why why why?! He was being tossed around
like a party favor and he knew that!) and his blood
was already down between his legs almost to the breaking point. But he had to
say something…
“Mmmm?”
Oh hell, the Roy behind him had already removed Alfons’s pants, tossing them
aside (but how? Alfons didn’t even notice him lifting his legs to remove each
pant leg, or even his hands on his pants! For all he knew, his hands were still
bound!).
“Th-this…this
is…n-not…right…” Damn him for starting to pant already. “This is…unsanitary…”
“Don’t worry,” the Roy on the floor adjusted his eyepatch
and gave him a smile, leading him forward a bit, “We’ll clean up after
ourselves.”
That’s what I’m
afraid of. Alfons thought.
“The problem is that we don’t want him to move.”
Which one had said that? The one at his back? The one in front of him? It was hard to remember…they looked
almost the same, save for their eyes, and when he was like this they both
looked exactly the same to him…
“If he has his arms unbound, that would be a problem,
wouldn’t it?”
Alfons shut his eyes, and shut them tight.
If they were planning something, he didn’t exactly
want to see what it was. He would be on the receiving end of it soon enough
anyway.
A drawer opened and closed nearby, and he could hear
the shuffling and feel the exchanging
of hands, though his own wrists kept in a tight vice-grip…even though it was
only from one hand.
“Could you help me, please?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t have him getting away when I’m taking my
pants off.”
He was released, but a second pair of hands grabbed
him before he could flail his escape, holding him steady.
Then he felt something wrap around his poor wrists.
Something coarse…and fabric.
` A…
Dishtowel?
“There. He won’t be getting away now.”
Another chuckle. He couldn’t
tell which Roy it was…and he didn’t even care. Just for them to do their worst
and for him to get it done with already. He knew he wasn’t getting away and
even if he wanted to, there was no chance for him escaping.
“Just…Just…”
“Alfons, you don’t have to close your eyes…”
“It’s going to happen no matter what I do,” Alfons
reasoned, “So why should I keep my eyes open?”
“So you don’t like to watch?”
“You two both look the same when I’m like this. It’s
like looking in a mirror…”
“Is that such a bad thing?” One of the Roys asked. Again, Alfons’s eyes were closed so he didn’t
know which one it was…nor did he care.
…It was almost like fantasizing about Alphonse again,
and God knew he didn’t want to go back to those
days.
“P-perhaps it’s best if…Aaah…you…you
don’t ask such a thi—”
Cold.
Holyfuckcold against his ass.
Alfons jumped, opening his eyes and trying his best
to look back at Roy—the Roy from his
side (the Roy with two eyes instead of one)—but it was hard to look
over when his hands were bound and he was stuck in his current position.
“I can’t prepare you if I don’t use something wet,”
he said, in almost a devious tone.
“What are you using?”
He was almost afraid to ask.
“That’s for me to know, and for you to not worry
yourself about,” was the jovial response.
Alfons wondered if he said something else…
But somewhere between the fingers probing his ass and
the feeling of that spot being
brushed up against his eyes had fluttered shut and he had lost most of his sense
of coherency.
A hand was put on his head, leading it down, down…and
he felt something hard and familiar against his lips, twitching a bit, almost
begging him to put it inside…to tease it, play with it. To do
something while this cruel
pleasurable torture of preparation was taking place, boggling his mind with Roy’s teasing. Well, the Roy with two eyes. The other Roy.
Oh to Hell with it—When his mind was like this…fuzzed
and full of lust, mind swimming and body aching and burning…it was almost
impossible for him to tell the difference between the two (at least that’s what
he kept telling himself…). They looked the same, their hands were on him, they
were kissing him, touching him, and fondling him in ways he hadn’t even thought
possible, and their damn names were the
same…!
Alfons’s mouth closed on that hard, thick thing that
was pressing against his face, taking a deep, long whiff of the musk that
threatened to overpower his senses. Strong…but somehow a
little sweet. He could barely make out a moan coming from his front, and
that which his mouth was so fervently sucking and nuzzling on was already
twitching.
…And not just because of that loud moan he let out of
his lips right then, either.
Damn Roy for not warning him before he thrusts in. Or maybe he
did say something and he hadn’t heard
it.
Sort of like
the oven. It could be beeping like crazy and you wouldn’t even notice it, would
you?
Alfons pushed back the thought and sucked harder,
swallowing the moans and trying his best to relax his muscles against the
invader who had penetrated them.
“Alfons…” he could hear the strained voice at his
back…pained, almost… “Relax…”
It was hard to try to relax when said invader was
already thrusting in and out…Slow, but...
It was always a choreographed dance with them…Alfons
suckling, sometimes hard, sometimes soft…one Roy in the back thrusting away
inside him as the other one, the one Alfons himself was pleasing, would moan
and croon and rub his hair and massage his scalp…all three of them begging for
release in their own small, desperate way.
Himself…
He didn’t know when the discomfort had changed to
pleasure, or when his cock started to be touched…His body was numb and
trembling now…numb and feeling at the same time…He kept getting pressed forward
with each thrust, feeling that
feeling and hearing the sound of skin slapping against skin…
Somewhere along the line, that he had so fervently
been sucking on before had grown soft…and his face was somehow soaking wet with
something other than the sweat that was most definitely pouring down his brow
(he wondered if the Roy he had been sucking off had already come…that would
certainly explain the mess on his face, anyway), and his chest and nipples were
being touched and stroked…pinched…teased…
He couldn’t stop himself from wailing now…louder and louder, screaming a name that he knew was
ambiguous to two different men, but he didn’t even really give a damn (but was that the
sound of the oven going off?), crying out and crying out and crying out,
until…
One last scream and he was done, arching his back and
shutting his eyes even tighter than he had been this whole time…
He floated on the afterglow of release for just a few
moments before the rest of his coherency became fuzzy…
He didn’t even notice the wetness that suddenly
formed inside him until a few minutes later, when he was on the floor
sandwiched in a warm, three-man embrace.
* * *
“Alfons, I can’t help but notice that dinner tastes a
little…”
“Burnt?” Alfons jabbed
his fork into the slightly charred roast, not even bothering to look at the
other two men who were sitting on either side of him. “Why didn’t you tell me
that the oven was going off? The kitchen could have burned down!!”
“You act as if we didn’t rush to turn it off the
moment we heard it beeping,” Roy—the General Roy, the one with the eyepatch and a ravenous reading appetite that only rivaled
his own—chuckled, taking a bite out of charcoaled carrot. “It was irresponsible
of us to not notice it before…but I’m sure in the grand scheme of things you
would have been more upset than you are now if we stopped our activities to
turn the stove off.”
He had him there.
“And you know…” Roy—the Roy from his side, the one with two eyes who wrote dirty novels for a living
and had an unhealthy obsession with Alfons’s homemade vanilla pudding—looked
over at Alfons from where he sat, glancing at him with eyes that could have
knocked even asexual Edward Elric in throes of sexual flights of fancy.
“What?” Alfons looked at him, and could feel his face
already start to warm up…shit, shit…
“The food may be burnt…but it can always have…other uses…”
…
It had to be illegal for one to mention food-play at
the dinner table without even the slightest blush…
But living with two Roys under the same roof…
Anything was possible.
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