But Mustang would hold onto his control easily, manipulating the boy to lose more and more of his.
Ed peeked into the last box and began to grin. "Twelve-layer chocolate cake," he said. "Wow, a whole slice."
"I know those court ordered anger management classes were years ago, but you've come such a long way."
Here, in this place where eyes were all but useless, hearing could be confounded with the sensation of touch.
...it was something you had. And if it's something you had, it's something I want.
A small biological flaw, if one could even consider it that.
Sex isn't comfortable. It's wet, hard, satisfying, but never comfortable.
He gently turned Ed's head so that he faced the camera, and with just a little luck, Ling would catch that amazing expression Ed always had when he came.
The Colonel's laugh might have been relieved or wanting or even mocking; it was hard to tell.
The first thing he was aware of when the aftershocks faded was an automail hand on his throat.
Let me start by saying that I love my grandchildren. Actually, they’re my great great grandchildren, but that’s repetitive and makes me sound old, so screw that.
"Get out of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
"I've never met a pair of virgins more ready to jump off the sexual deep end, and you are hung up on a little social rule?"
“I said no, Fullmetal--hey, what are you mmnph!”
Not many people are close enough to his brother to have seen either of the first two with any sort of frequency.
That was unacceptable. Anger was to be expected; disgust was not allowed.
Ed had confessed that he had no idea how the relationships had started.
"You know what the problem with this world is," Edward started, and Alfons thought: here we go again.
Roy had been among the rebels for weeks now, and he'd learned very early on that these men were dangerous, very dangerous.
"They're human chimeras, Mr. Elric. Children, primarily, and they're violent."
I'm lying through implication, but the kid won't know that, and after all the stuff I've done, lying has gotta be my pettiest sin.
"I'm not being forced out of another home. They won't be here long, and it's not like they'll be looking for us."
There is no way Alfons knows what he does to him.
The easiest way to destroy an enemy is to destroy those he depends upon.
Sometimes he feels like an actor, playing to an especially difficult audience.
Wouldn't it be easier, after all, to slip from beneath the blankets and return to his own bed, all but unused for the past month?
Roy flinched a little and walked the rest of the way down the hall -– to his fate. No, today would not be easy.
"...If I...really went insane...I mean, completely lost my mind..." Ed said, carefully, "do you think you'd be able to stop me?"
"Don't worry about it," he says bossily. "I know what to do. Give me the book--don't close it--ah, thanks."
He'd lied in smoke filled bars. He'd hunted down lubricants in seedy stores that catered to the most iffy of clientele. Alfons had EARNED Ed's love.
"How do you manage to win, even when you lose?" he asked sleepily, some time later.
This is what lovers do, thought Ed. They sacrifice for the other's pleasure.
As far as Edward was concerned it could just take for-damn-ever if it wanted because that’s how long he could go without taking to the Bastard.
"Oh my," the woman smiling broadly. "How CUTE. You are purring."
His flatmate is a night owl and is always knocking around at odd hours, reading well in the early morning; if Alfons didn't remind him to sleep he most likely never would bother to.
Oh, yes, Ed had ordered him not to speak, too. Couldn't forget about that.
See him move, see him train, see him jump into that air and swing his leg in a complete arch before he lands heavily to the ground in a perfect execution of Sensei's teachings.
"How old are you?" The answer was on the wanted posters, of course, but he wanted to check.
But still they see, from the languid, liquid (inhuman) grace of her walk, the sway of her movements, the tattoos on her skin that she is something not quite human.
He could imagine the words Fix typed as coming from his brother, and it afforded him a little bit of indulgence in his horrible, sinful, uncontrollable urges.
He runs out of ink halfway through the page, and with a quiet sigh dips his finger in the inkwell...
"Don't worry," Greed had whispered. "I'll take care of your little death."
It was a shame to mark the boy's pretty face so, but considering his abilities, prudent.
This is far more effective, Roy thinks grimly, than any threat of physical violence against his own self.
"You know it's a good thing I heal almost immediately, because otherwise I'd be so sore, I'd never get anywhere in the story."
Roy was far from at ease and he could not sleep, and so, instead, he watched Edward, feeling anxiety and guilt sink claws into his belly and tear into his mind.