Plot, what plot? or, pr0n without plot.
She clung to him so tightly that his skin was white under her fingertips.
Pillow talk, with the Fullmetal Alchemist, was shop talk.
Roy Mustang still doesn't entirely understand First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Perhaps he never will.
"Alphonse... why are you wearing a blouse?" The younger boy buried his face in his textbook, and mumbled something inaudible. "...and a miniskirt!?"
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
At a large mahogany desk, polished to an almost jewel-like shine, sat Colonel Edward Elric, who was deep into his paperwork. Or at least that is how he appeared.
"Damnit, brother," Alphonse managed, and Ed grinned at him. "I was only away for a week!"
There were many things that Edward Elric didn't want the world to know, secrets to be protected at all cost.
Ed was pretty sure that the Colonel had an office fetish.
I noticed, Ed told him with as much edge as he could muster.
The door opened, and all the energy Ed had been ready to put towards transmuting the door into a pile of sticks drained out of him through his feet.
"Can't you forget what you read for a few minutes, and just... you know... go with the flow?"
From saint to sinner, from mother to whore… She was far more beautiful in death than she'd ever been in life.
Tenderly, Ed's flesh fingers threaded into hair that he had created — short and bronze-gold, the same downy texture that he'd recalled from childhood.
Ed had his suspicions about any offer Roy Mustang made that sounded like what he wanted. There had to be a catch.
"So ...." Havoc tried to look nonchalant. "Fullmetal's hair is, uh ... bright."
There is no way Alfons knows what he does to him.
Her lover could have been anyone; Edward or Alphonse Elric, Roy Mustang, Ling Yao.
Unexpectedly, the door flew open with a loud bang, steps sounded on the tile, and a very familiar, very cranky voice said...
I know we're going to wind up in our power roles again and again, claws out, dipping hard, down into flesh that sprouts the sanctity of red, red, blood.
The Colonel's laugh might have been relieved or wanting or even mocking; it was hard to tell.
Edward was like on a dog on a too-short leash, so close to the bone but unable to taste it.
Yeah. Get it right and be honest, it's a little too good, a little too everything to let go of just yet.
"No funny business!" Ed thundered, not fooled for one minute by that innocent look.
Al didn't complain about his brother's occasional delinquency, so Ed didn't have room to complain about Al's taste in boyfriends.
"I will teach you patience even it if kills me," Alfons gritted out. "Let me do this my way, you can give up control just for one act."
"So," said Ling. "I was thinking, perhaps my father can buy out Ed's contract."
"Hi Brother!" the other end of the phone chirped, and Ed's shoulders immediately went from tense to jelly.
Artificial muscles and steel could not replace the level of sensitivity real muscle and skin had.
"You paid for him to have sex?" Mustang says incredulously, putting his pen down on the table top and shoving the form away. "You bought him a prostitute?"
Of course, the jar was really the professional female companionship fund; or, as Ed liked to sarcastically call it, the pussy kitty.
Now the eyes were dull, the gold frosted, and bitter lines caged his mouth.
"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."
"Yeah, so I hear the best way to get anything out of you is by going through your pants," the boy said evenly.
"Yeah," Fuery chips in, "you're always the one to stop Ed from doing weird stuff, not the other way around."
No kinks, no cross-dressing, no tag-team threesomes, and all pets must be ushered out of the room beforehand.
The desire to go wandering again, to never settle down... it worried Alphonse.
"I can't be this old and still a virgin," Ed snickered. "I mean, you've been with someone, right?
Ed let out the barest squeak, then glared fire as if daring Roy to say anything.
"So by 'torture,' you really mean 'sexual gratification'. Specifically your sexual gratification.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
Ed knew he was going to muck everything up between the three of him if he didn't get a hold of his libido.
The blow cracked Ed's cheekbone, an audible noise in the quiet room, and he felt and tasted the blood that filled his mouth.
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.
"It was a while ago," he offered nervously. "Before your time. He's, uh, well, he was a persistent bastard, and... You're not mad, are you?"
He's been after her since the day they met. He'd been a newly-made Major and, at the time, the youngest State Alchemist ever. She'd been a Colonel going on Brigadier General.