Never Coming Home

It was cold, standing amid the snow and the ice, the way it fluttered around his ankles, swirled up his thighs. His breath blew spirits on the window, puffs that had some life, something that defined them, but it was them he ignored, shut them down for the scene inside, that moviesque glory. Cautious eyes were enslaved, even as one delicate hand brushed against the glass, a plea, a wish.

And then he moved, heard the tingle of the bell at his collar, that reminder of what he was now, why he could never go into that world, that world where his brother was holding onto his picture and weeping, where the Christmas tree twinkled in the corner. Foreign hands grabbed the little hood of his cloak, tightening it around his face, cautious of the furry white ears that protruded from the top of his head.

"He misses me," came the quiet whisper, a hope that maybe this madness would end, that maybe, maybe, he could be released, that he could go home.

"And you are surprised?" Roy laughed, his one dark eye glittering, a full eclipse in the night. One of his hands, gloved and guarded against the cold, tightly clutched the hip in front of him as he pulled the lithe body against his own. Underneath the other's cloak, there was the definite feeling of something different, something foreign, as it wound helplessly around his own leg.

"Let me see him," came Al's helpless plea, that begging moment. Roy half expected him to turn, to face him, to shine those eyes on him in a hope to warm his heart (But I'm on fire, don't you see? Already burned away to cinders.), but his charge wouldn't move from the image of his sibling, that silhouette in the frosted window, wouldn't stop looking at Edward Elric's mourning. "Please!"

You will look at me like that one day, won't you? Need me. Love me.

"Your lack of appreciation for your Christmas present is disheartening," Roy muttered. He jerked his pet back, felt the slim hips rub into him, grind into his lust, and he smiled; one could take the brother out of the cat, but never the cat out of the brother. "I am giving you everything you could want."

"You're teasing me!" hissed the chimera, but he was moving, writhing as Roy's hand dipped beneath his cloak, down to the depths, and rubbing against the suit. "I...I am so close... but you won't let me—"

"Let, let, let! I let you do so much!" Was it wrong? Was this wrong? Al was happy; he heard it when the chimera came, when he whimpered around his gags, when he licked Roy's shoes. And now, now he was letting him see his brother, and it still wasn't enough! Didn't he see that if Edward knew he was here, that they would be separated? And, dammit, he had earned this! No one had the right to take it away from him!

"Please!" But it was too late, far too late for all the banter; Roy's hands were under the tight suit, rubbing around him, clutching him, teasing and jerking. And Al, oh, how he purred, how he moaned, heady and lost to the hormones that coursed through small veins, taken by things beyond his control.

And when Roy bent him over, their bodies focusing on one another for heat, for carnal needs, Al tried, desperately to look through his hair and see Edward, his precious Edward, but the golden brother was lost behind the panting fog his desire had spread over the window.