Alphonse's belly is twisting with excitement as he sits shirtless in the low—backed leather chair, his long, dark-blonde hair tied up high on his head in a scruffy bun and out of the way. He's practically vibrating as he stares at the white—tiled wall opposite him and he squeezes his hands together on his lap, his left leg bouncing to the low, fast beat of the music that is playing on a radio in the background. He can't wait for this, he really can't and he can't stop looking back over his shoulder at the hulking form of the man behind him that is sterilising his hands thoroughly.
"I'm going to be honest with you kid," he says, glancing at Alphonse with a raised brow, "this is going to hurt."
"I know," Alphonse replies, his lips curling into a grin. "I don't mind, though."
The man smiles back and his eyes flash as he says, "Oh, you're one of those, aren't you?"
Alphonse's smile turns sly, almost devious as he keeps his eyes on the man who is now pulling on a pair of rubber gloves from a sealed packet by the sink. He bites his lip and looks back at the wall, eyeing the pristine surface of it and following the white lines of the grout between the tiles as he listens to the man shuffle around behind him. His heart is thrumming hard against his ribcage and he grips the arms of the chair either side of him, his vision becoming unfocused as he listens hard for the flick of a switch. Sure enough he hears it, followed by a loud, hideous buzzing and he has to hold back an impatient whimper when nothing else happens.
"So, right here, right?" the man says; a gloved finger is now poking gently at the base of Alphonse's neck, just between his shoulder blades. "This is your last chance to change your mind if you want to take another look at it."
"No," Alphonse replies, his voice low so low and husky that the man's eyebrows raise in amusement. "It's perfect where it is."
"Right. Well, if you want me to stop at any point, just say and we'll take a break."
Alphonse nods quickly, the buzzing filling his head as it comes closer and he closes his eyes, waiting. There's the scrape of chair legs on the floor, the sound of the man adjusting his position and then a cold, gloved hand is stretching the skin between his shoulder blades.
"Ready?" the man asks over the noise.
"Ready," Alphonse confirms, tipping his head forwards.
There is a pause, one that barely lasts a second but it feels like an eternity before a white—hot pain drives right into Alphonse's skin on his spine. He can't hold back the moan that bursts from his throat and his fingers grip the arms of the chair hard enough to leave marks but he is smiling, almost manically, as his skin is punctured and dyed.
Edward's going to kill him, and Alphonse can't fucking wait.
It's late when Alphonse gets home, so late in fact that Edward is already in bed. It's probably a good thing; Alphonse is in agony and the bandage that is stuck between his shoulder blades is covered in blood so the last thing he needs right now is a tongue lashing from his brother.
He doesn't want to show it to him just yet anyway, not until he's cleaned it up.
After hanging up his coat and kicking off his shoes Alphonse heads straight upstairs and to the bathroom, making sure to keep quiet as he moves across the creaky floorboards on the landing. Luckily for him the bathroom is on the opposite side of the house to Edward's bedroom so when he locks himself in and turns on the shower he has no reason to worry about waking his brother. He strips off his clothes, his underwear and trousers first before his shirt; he winces when it catches the bandage as he pulls it over his head and he turns his back to the mirror, looking over his shoulder towards it. There is dried blood everywhere and Alphonse smiles at his own reflection with heavily lidded eyes, his cheeks flushing from the hot steam of the shower and his hair that is still tied up messily on his head seems to wilt slightly. He looks like he has just been fucked and in a way, he supposes he has. It had taken everything in him to stop himself from coming in that chair as the man drove that needle in and out of his skin, the pain that it had induced becoming pleasure as he traced the design that would be on Alphonse's body forever.
It's probably sick, Alphonse knows, but he can't find it in himself to give a shit. There are sicker things in the world than this, sicker things in fact that he himself has done, felt and wanted so enjoying being tattooed is nothing in comparison.
He reaches over his shoulder and begins to peel off the bandage, bearing his teeth when it pulls at the traumatised skin but he keeps going until the fresh, raw pattern is revealed. He hisses at the last tug then drops the bandage into a waste basket next to the sink, his eyes still on his reflection and his smile gets wider.
It's his blood—seal, carved into his skin in bright red ink and it looks incredible.
He tentatively presses a trembling finger against it, wincing when it stings but he traces it until he reaches the loop at the centre, the dried blood flaking off under his nail. It hurts, God it hurts so much but he can't help but feel anything other than aroused as he stares at his own swollen, sore flesh.
He drops his hand and turns, untying his hair before getting into the shower. It falls down to his waist, the soft strands grazing the tattoo but that is nothing compared to the droplets of water that pound against it when he stands beneath the flow, his teeth bared again and his eyes clamped shut. It burns so much but the heat travels right to his belly and after a few moments he opens his eyes, looking straight at his hardened cock. It's so red and wet with water and pre—come that he doesn't think twice before taking hold of it and pumping it in slow, sloppy strokes. He's been wanting to do this for hours so there's no way in hell that he will be able to stop his orgasm; it's already approaching fast but honestly, he doesn't care. He's been hard all fucking day because of the tattoo and he sees no reason to draw this out any longer than necessary.
He tips his head forward, his wet hair falling over his face in long, clumped strands and his lips part as he moves his hand faster. He increases his grip, digs his thumb into the slit when he passes over the head and incoherent words tumble from his throat. He uses his free hand to steady himself against the wall and his eyes roll back into his head as the coiling in his belly builds faster, the combination of pleasure and pain making him tremble with need.
"God," he hisses, tipping his head back and water falls into his mouth, quickly filling it and pouring over his lips but he doesn't move; he's so close, right on the edge and his toes curl and scrape against the bottom of the bath—
"Al? You in here?"
The bathroom door swings open and Edward appears behind a curtain of steam wearing nothing but his boxers and Alphonse looks across at him, spitting out the water with his hand still moving.
"Al, what the hell are you—"
"Edward!" Alphonse cries, coming so hard he sees stars and falls backwards towards the shower wall, his hand still on his dick as he milks it for all it's worth.
It covers his fist and his belly before slipping down his legs as it mixes with the water, pooling in the bottom of the bath before being washed away. Alphonse doesn't move, just stands there with his back pressed against the tiles, his chest heaving as he blinks slowly at his brother. Edward stares back, his face framed by messy blonde hair and his mouth hangs open as he takes in the sight of his spent little brother before him who is now a panting mess in the bottom of the bath.
"Al," Edward murmurs, his golden eyes roaming Alphonse's shuddering body as he steps forwards, "what the fuck is going on?"
Alphonse stares up at him through sheets of wet hair and stretches his legs out along the bottom of the bath, his entire body on display as it is beaten softly with water.
"I didn't want to wake you," he says, his voice low and quiet.
"You were loud enough to wake the dead," Edward says, his gaze set on his brother's as he suddenly drags down his boxers and climbs into the bath, his metal foot clinking against the porcelain. "You always are when you're jacking off."
"Fuck you, big brother," Alphonse sneers, spreading his legs so that Edward can fit between them.
"If you want," Edward grins, positioning himself right over Alphonse and in the line of fire of the water. His body is quickly soaked; his hair hangs over this shoulders and sticks to his face and chest and his hardened cock bumps Alphonse's belly when he shifts, his metal and flesh hands either side of his younger brother's shoulders. "I don't think you're up to it, though. Maybe I should fuck you instead."
"You wish," Alphonse murmurs, blinking slowly.
His body is still thrumming from his release but the sight of Edward hovering over him like this is making him ache with lust, even more so when Edward rocks his hips and drags his dick down past Alphonse's balls. He shivers and shoves a hand roughly into his older brother's yellow hair, the strands wrapping around his fingers like snakes and he pulls him down into a deep, wet kiss that causes them both to moan. Edward juts his hips again and his cock slides right against Alphonse's entrance, making him arch up into his brother and pull on his hair harder. He wants to be fucked, he wants to feel Edward inside of him but at the same time he knows that as good as it would be now, it will be much better later. The burning between his shoulder blades reminds him of this just as Edward begins to reach down between them; Alphonse grabs Edward's hand and somewhat reluctantly stops the kiss.
"No, not now big brother," he says over the hissing of the shower, "we should get to bed. It's late."
"I don't care," Edward growls, rocking into Alphonse again. "Shit, I need to feel you—"
"You will, but not now. We have work tomorrow and I don't want to spend my day being yelled at by Mustang for being too tired to do anything constructive."
"This is constructive," Edward insists, leaning down to nip and lick at Alphonse's neck.
It sends shivers down the younger brother's spine and makes him arch upwards, but he manages to hold onto his self—control as he says, "Ed, come on, we can do this tomorrow."
"You're such a tease, Al," Edward moans, sliding his flesh hand from Alphonse's shoulder to the wet curls at the base of his semi-hard cock. "So fucking cruel."
"I know, but you love me for it," Alphonse purrs, pushing Edward away gently and sitting up. "Don't you, big brother?"
"I don't know about that," Edward smirks. "Maybe you'll see tomorrow."
Alphonse fakes hurt and punches Edward in the arm as he hops out of the bath and drops water all over the tiled floor. Edward looks back at him, his eyes flashing playfully and Alphonse feels his insides squirm with passion for him but he doesn't let it show; he keeps perfectly still where he is sat and rolls his eyes at him.
"I need to finish up here," he says, "so you just go back to bed. I'll be along in a bit."
Edward sighs softly before ringing his hair out into the bath. Alphonse watches him carefully and his groin stirs when he sees the muscles working in his brother's arm and back; he's just so beautiful, even with the auto—mail and Alphonse won't deny that he actually finds Edward's prosthetics more of a turn on than anything else. There's nothing like the combination of scorching flesh and freezing steel pressed against his back when Edward is rocking hard into him, or vice versa.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Edward asks suddenly and gestures to his crotch. "Tell me, Al."
Alphonse shrugs and climbs to his feet, standing right beneath the shower head and making sure to keep his back to the wall. "I don't know, but what ever you do could you do it somewhere else? I need to wash."
Edward couldn't look any more disappointed if he tried and as he pulls on his boxers Alphonse can't help but feel a pang of guilt as he eyes the tent that is created. It will be worth it though; when Alphonse has shown his brother his tattoo, the fun will start and it will make the wait worth it.
"Don't take too long, okay?" Edward says, grabbing a spare towel from a shelf by the door. "I've missed you today."
"I won't, big brother," Alphonse says with his sweetest smile, and after returning it, Edward leaves Alphonse to finish his shower alone.
"That looks incredible," Sergeant Brosh says, his eyes wide in awe as Alphonse holds down the back of the collar of his shirt. "I can't believe you actually did it. Does it hurt?"
"Yeah, but no more than the other one did," Alphonse answers truthfully. "The worst part is when it scabs over and starts to heal properly because it itches like hell."
"It's really cool," Master Sergeant Fuery grins, chewing on a bite from his sandwich. "Was it expensive?"
"Not really, but if I want any more, I'm going to have to save up."
"It's strange," Brosh says, twiddling his spoon between his fingers and looking at Alphonse's face when the young alchemist turns back towards him, "I never thought you were the type of guy to get tattoos."
"Why not?" Alphonse asks with a smirk and leans back in his chair.
"Well, look at you. You're Fullmetal's little brother, all innocent and shit, right?"
"Yeah," Fuery chips in, "you're always the one to stop Ed from doing weird stuff, not the other way around."
"That's what you think," Alphonse says with a wink.
He finds it highly amusing that everyone he works with still thinks of him in this way; they have no idea of how insane he can be sometimes, especially when it comes to his tattoo fetish. He may only have two of them, but if his brother's reaction to the first one was explosive, he can't imagine what this one will provoke, especially considering its nature. It almost makes him hard thinking about it so he tries to empty his mind and finish his lunch with the most irreproachable expression he can muster.
"What does Ed think of it?" Brosh asks, his gaze flicking towards Second Lieutenant Havoc who has just joined them at their lunch table and is clutching a hideous looking pile of papers.
"He hasn't seen it yet," Alphonse answers, looking down at his half—eaten sandwich.
"Hasn't seen what?" Havoc inquires with a sigh, his brows pulled together as he looks between Alphonse, Brosh and Fuery. "What are you ladies talking about?"
"Al's new tattoo," Fuery grins.
Havoc looks right at Alphonse with raised eyebrows and says, "You got a tattoo? Jesus, I thought you were like, twelve or something."
"No, Havoc, I'm eighteen," Alphonse says with a scowl. "Patronising bastard."
"You know what I mean," Havoc says with a wave of his hand. "Aren't you too young to be getting a tattoo?"
"No," Alphonse retorts, folding his arms across his chest and Havoc looks sceptically at him. "It's perfectly legal to have tattoos at the age of eighteen."
"Let's see it then," Havoc says, his interest clearly peaking.
Alphonse turns around pulls down his collar again, hearing Havoc give a low whistle when he sees the inky pattern on his skin.
"Well, that looks sore," Havoc says. "You're braver than I am. I'd never—"
"What the fuck is that?"
Alphonse swings around in his chair and immediately his eyes meet his brother's; they are filled with anger and confusion and Alphonse's belly knots immediately. Everyone in the canteen has stilled, all conversation coming to a halt as they turn to watch Edward yell at his brother. Alphonse feels himself tremble, not in worry or fear of his older brother's anger, but in excitement as he anticipates the fireworks.
"Al!" Edward shouts, coming towards him. "When did you do that?"
"Brother," Alphonse says, keeping his voice small, "I was going to tell you about it. I—"
"You were going to tell me?" Edward hisses, but then seems to realise that the huge room of soldiers has gone silent after glancing around. He then looks straight into his brother's eyes and says, "You're coming with me."
"What? But haven't finished my lunch!"
"I don't care," Edward growls, grabbing Alphonse's wrist in an iron grip and pulling him out of his chair. "Let's go."
Alphonse allows Edward to drag him from the canteen and hears the explosion of chatter as soon as the doors slam behind them. Edward keeps hold of him as he pulls him along the corridor and into an empty meeting room, sealing the doors behind him with alchemy and after they have fused together with flashes and sparks of blue light he turns to his little brother, his chest heaving in fury.
"Explain yourself!" he yells, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Why have you had that— that thing put on your skin?"
"It's my blood—seal," Alphonse says calmly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, but inside though he's in pieces as the anticipation rolls through him in waves. "I had it tattooed to me."
"Why?" Edward demands, stepping closer to him. "Why the hell would you do that, Al?"
"Because I like it," Alphonse replies with a shrug. "It's my body, I can do what I want with it."
"We didn't spend nearly six years trying to get it back for you to cover it in shit!" Edward practically screams, his eyes wild. Alphonse has to calm himself; he's quickly becoming aroused and overwhelmed by Edward's powerful emotions. "Especially not that, Al! God it's— it's sick!"
"Sick?" Alphonse asks, his brow furrowed. "Why is it sick? It's important to me, it has a lot of meaning—"
"Yeah, it reflects nothing more than misery, death and our struggle to return you to your real body. Of all of the fucking things to get, Al, you chose that!"
Alphonse doesn't reply, just stares at his enraged brother and he stares right back at him, his gaze penetrating right to his soul. It makes Alphonse quiver all over as this is what he wants; he wants the passion to drive Edward, he wants him to almost lose his mind, scream and yell until his throat is practically bleeding and then take him forcefully to punish him for what he has done.
"You don't see what is wrong with this?" Edward asks loudly.
"No, I don't," Alphonse shakes his head. "It's my body, my life, and my decision."
Edward continues to look at him in disbelief for a few moments before saying, "Fine. Fuck you, Alphonse."
With that he storms back across the room, clapping his hands together once as he goes and then places them on the sealed doors. They practically explode out of the frame in more flashes of blue light and after stepping over the shards of wood, Edward is gone.
Alphonse stares after him, his body now visibly shaking and a smile creeps onto his lips as he murmurs, "I hope so, big brother."
The rest of the day drags horribly for Alphonse and when he does finally get to leave work, he finds that he is alone on the train—ride back. He expected this; it's going to take a while to bring Edward around and he knows that when he gets in, he's going to have a fight on his hands.
He's not worried though. If anything, he's buzzing with adrenaline and ready to take on his brother and when he finally steps through the front door of their house he listens carefully for any signs of Edward. There is the sound of footsteps in the kitchen so Alphonse heads there immediately, kicking off his boots as he goes and throwing his coat over the banister at the bottom of the stairs.
He finds Edward stood by the sink, wearing only a pair of loose pyjama pants and a black vest which indicates that he has been at home for a while. He turns when Alphonse enters the room, his eyes hard and still full of anger.
"What do you want?" he says harshly, running a hand through his loose hair.
"We need to talk about this, Ed," Alphonse replies, stepping forwards. "You can't avoid me forever."
"Like it matters what I think," Edward snarls, turning back towards the sink. "If you gave a shit, you wouldn't have done it in the first place."
"Of course it matters, big brother, that's why I want to talk to you now."
"What's the point? You've already had it done."
Alphonse sighs before quickly removing his shirt, the material sliding across the sore flesh at the base of his neck and he winces as it stings. It feels so hot despite the cool air in the kitchen and after tossing his shirt to the side he makes his way over to his brother.
"Why don't you look at it?" Alphonse suggests, his voice low and like silk and his heart pounds hard in his chest. "You might like it if you look at it properly."
"I don't want to look at it," Edward snaps, his eyes set firmly ahead of him out of the kitchen window. "Considering I was the one who created it out of my own blood in the first place, I think I've seen enough of it."
"That's why I have it, Edward," Alphonse murmurs, moving closer to him, so close that he can feel both his body heat and anger radiating off him in waves. "It's what kept me alive, it was the link to my soul, the only thing that kept me from disappearing from this world and the only thing that kept me with you."
"Yeah, but you're here now, Al! You don't need a fucking blood—seal to stay here because you're on this side of the Gate! Fuck!"
Edward's shoulders tense as he grips the side of the sink and he lowers his head. Alphonse is now right next to him, almost touching him and his belly rolls when he can smell the musky combination of sweat and oil; despite his delicately beautiful face and long hair, Edward is all man and just exudes masculinity in everything that he does, especially when he's angry.
"I knew you wouldn't like it," Alphonse admits, leaning in towards Edward's face. "I knew you'd yell at me for doing it. You need to understand though, big brother, why I did this."
"Well I don't," Edward growls, but he doesn't move away from his brother. "I can't understand why you would want that fucking thing on your skin, on your real body."
Alphonse blinks and there is a pause before he murmurs, "Do you remember what it used to be like, Ed? When you used to lie there, pleasuring yourself and I would watch in that hideous shell of steel, wishing so much that I could do the same, that I could feel something similar to what you were feeling?"
Edward's gaze flicks towards Alphonse, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Don't talk about that now."
"Why? It's the truth. I remember the first time I pleasured you, when I made you come so hard you screamed my name so loudly and Winry came running in, thinking that something bad had happened."
Edward's face flushes more and the corners of Alphonse's mouth turn upwards as he goes on.
"From then on I did it every time; I was the one that made you come and I even fucked you, remember? With those huge, ugly hands nearly every night and I never felt a thing."
"Alphonse," Edward croaks, blinking slowly.
"But then," the younger brother goes on, ghosting a hand over Edward's auto-mail arm as he speaks, "you had an idea. You thought of a way that you could be inside me and you climbed into me, locking yourself behind my chest plate and pushed your face against my blood—seal whilst you touched yourself. Do you remember that?"
Edward opens his mouth to say something but he stays silent, giving a small nod.
"Do you remember when you realised that if you touched it in a certain way, I could feel something like you were feeling when you came inside of me?"
His voice is so low now that it is barely audible but he knows that Edward can hear every word. He's trembling, flushing with heat and gripping the side of the sink so hard that it is creaking beneath his metal and flesh fingers. Alphonse feels almost delirious with desire for him and he finally allows himself to press against him, the auto—mail so cold against his skin but he melts into it, craving more.
"You owned me, big brother," he whispers, slipping his hand beneath Edward's vest. "You put that seal there with your own blood, connecting us and our souls even though I barely existed and even when I was convinced I could never feel anything ever again you showed me I could. You put your mark on me, Edward, right on my soul and now it's on my body."
Edward turns to him, his golden eyes locking with his own and he feels the distant burn of arousal building within him.
"You own me, big brother," he repeats breathlessly, pushing his fingers into the sensitive skin that is connected to the metal plates of Edward's auto—mail arm. "You always have, and you always will. Unless," he pauses, watching Edward's eyelids flutter as he fingers the skin, "unless you don't want to any more."
That's it; Edward breaks instantly and he's suddenly grabbing Alphonse around the waist with a force that Alphonse has felt only a few times before and it's as if the air has been knocked out of him when wet, hot lips are pressed against his own. Edward's tongue is then pushing forcefully into his mouth and he whimpers when he feels his cock harden inside his tight, black trousers.
"Let me see it," Edward growls into Alphonse mouth. "Let me see this fucking thing."
"No," Alphonse replies with a fiendish smile, pulling at Edward's vest. "Not yet."
"Alphonse," Edward says, his tone so thick with lust that it goes straight to Alphonse's groin and he falters; Edward turns him around and forces him against the table, bending him right over it and the side of the wood smashes right into his thighs.
Alphonse cries out loudly in surprise and pain but all he can do is lean back into Edward's strong, grabbing hands. He holds still when he feels flesh fingers run up his spine towards the new tattoo, trembling as every nerve in his back seems to react to the touch.
"Yes," he murmurs, gripping at the table with blunt nails. "Yes, yes, yes—"
"I can't believe you did this," Edward murmurs; his hips are pressing right against Alphonse's behind and Alphonse is positive that he can feel his brother's swollen cock though their clothes. "Did it hurt?"
"Yes," Alphonse nods, looking back over his shoulder and his dick throbs against the tabletop; Edward looks so good behind him like this, so powerful and domineering. "It hurt like hell."
"More than the Flamel?" Edward asks, his gaze flitting to Alphonse's right shoulder where the dark red symbol adorns the pale skin.
"Much more," Alphonse says truthfully. "But I nearly came."
Edward's eyes widen and he says, "Y—you what?"
"Yeah," Alphonse nods, leaning back into Edward's groin and rotating his hips. "It hurt so fucking much but it felt so good that I nearly came in the tattooist's chair."
Edward looks like he doesn't really know what to do with this piece of information and Alphonse grins knavishly at him as if daring him to move. Edward does; he slides his fingers around the outside of the tattoo as if to touch it but he doesn't, just teases the edges of the tender, delicate skin. Alphonse's smile immediately disappears and he feels like he's going mad after only a few moments of Edward's physical taunting of his nerves.
"Touch it," he breathes, clawing at the table. "Please big brother, please—"
"Why should I?" Edward asks before shoving his trousers and boxers down in one swift movement, his long, hard length springing out and resting against Alphonse's behind. "Give me one good reason why I should."
"It's your seal, big brother," Alphonse groans, arching his back into the flesh hand. "It belongs to you, like I do. Please, Ed—"
Edward runs a finger over the top of the freshly scarred skin and Alphonse moans loudly; it's as if it is being done with the needle again and it burns so much that his body writhes on the tabletop. His cock throbs at the friction created and his head falls forward, his fringe covering his eyes and he hisses when Edward begins to trace the pattern slowly, his nail catching on the barely—formed scabs.
"Edward," Alphonse croaks, spreading his legs and rocking slowly back into his brother and into the table to create more friction. "God, Edward—"
"You like this, Al?" Edward murmurs, slipping his metal hand beneath Alphonse's hips to rip off his belt. He destroys it completely, tearing the leather and snapping the buckle and after pulling it through the loops of Alphonse's trousers Edward throws the remains noisily to the floor. "You like it when it hurts?"
"Yes," Alphonse croaks; his body is flushing with arousal and pain and he's burning up under Edward's light but sharp touches. "I love it when it hurts."
"You're so fucked up, Al," Edward says with a laugh that is entwined with lust. "You used to be so innocent."
"That's what you think," Alphonse retorts, looking back over his shoulder with his hair in his face. "I was never innocent, just good at playing 'baby brother'."
"I like it when you play 'baby brother'."
"You like it more when I'm like this though, right?" Alphonse asks in a whisper, leaning up slightly and supporting himself with his arms. "You like it when I'm obnoxious and fucked up."
Edward growls and yanks down Alphonse's trousers, not even bothering to unzip them but they slide quite easily down his slim hips. When they reach his ankles Alphonse kicks them off and shivers when the cool air meets his bare legs, the harsh, rough surface of the table almost painful against his sensitive cock. He can feel his own pre—come smearing all over the wood and the skin on his belly when he leans back, right into Edward's cock that slips hotly into the cleft of his arse.
"Fuck," Edward murmurs, his eyelids fluttering and he places his hands on Alphonse's hips. "Al—"
"Yes," Alphonse nods desperately; they are nearly there, so close to being fused together and Alphonse is shaking from the expectation. "Yes, big brother—"
"I can't believe you did this," Edward interrupts, his eyes glassy and darkening. "I can't believe you didn't even tell me that you were going to put this on your skin—"
"I can't believe you're dick still isn't inside me."
Edward's eyes widen in shock but he then grins as he says, "What, you think you're ready?"
Alphonse's answer is to suck two fingers into his mouth and then reach behind himself to press them to his own tight entrance, both digits slipping in with only slight resistance. He makes a low noise in his throat and watches Edward's expression carefully as it goes from assertive to astonished as Alphonse's practised fingers just slide in and out of his body. Alphonse arches back and curls them, searching for his prostate and he pushes onto it hard when he finds it. His body jerks as intense pleasure pulses through him, his balls tightening and his cock twitching and leaking all over himself and the table. It's not enough though, not big enough and he stares at Edward as if willing him to take control.
"Come on, big brother," he says breathlessly, his body jerking into the table. "Don't you wish this was you? I've been such a bastard to you, getting the tattoo and not even telling you— don't you want to teach me a lesson?"
Edward's eyes flash and he grabs Alphonse's wrist, pulling it upwards and Alphonse cries out when his fingers leave his body. His cock gives another twitch and his eyes shine with excitement as he watches Edward let go of his wrist before parting his cheeks, those golden eyes on his entrance and Alphonse bites his lip in impatience. He needs this so badly and Edward knows it, which is why he's hesitating and driving his little brother up the wall by doing so.
"You're such a fucking brat, Al," Edward murmurs, grabbing his own cock and sliding it against Alphonse's entrance. It's so wet with pre—come that Alphonse shivers from head to toe and his insides practically yearn with need. "Always getting what you want."
"I'm not getting what I want right now," Alphonse moans, "I want you to fuck me and you're stalling."
"You said to teach you a lesson, right?" Edward breathes, leaning over Alphonse's body and moving his flesh fingers over the new tattoo. "I'm still pissed off that you did this, so surely I should get some kind of payback?"
"Yes," Alphonse agrees through gritted teeth, "yes you should."
Edward smirks and after a pause he finally pushes forward, his head of his cock feeling huge as it slides into Alphonse's tight heat. Alphonse half screams and throws his head back as he grabs and scratches blindly at the table as his insides begin to smart; with little preparation and the only lubricant being Edward's pre—come he isn't exactly surprised but somehow it still feels fucking amazing. He can hear Edward's heavy breathing behind him as he pushes deeper, moving right over Alphonse's prostate and Alphonse cries out again before rocking backwards with sudden force. It's Edward's turn to moan, his voice deep and so carnal that it goes straight to Alphonse's groin. He feels like he's going to pass out; Edward is filling him, stretching him wider and when he is fully sheathed Alphonse squeezes him as hard as he can.
"Al— fuck!" Edward chokes, falling forwards so that his chest is pressed flush against his brother's. "Don't— don't do that, not yet—"
"Move," Alphonse demands, thrusting against the table. "Fuck me, big brother—"
Edward doesn't need to be told again; he pulls back, his cock dragging once again past Alphonse's spot and then snaps his hips forward to drive himself deeper and the younger brother shrieks in ecstasy. Finally, after twenty—four hours of screwing with Edward's head he is getting what he wants, he is completely at his mercy and when he looks back at him over his shoulder he can't help but give a lazy grin. Edward's teeth are bared and his eyes are slits as he concentrates on keeping the fast, steady rhythm, holding Alphonse's hips hard with experienced hands to keep him in place. He's grunting and hissing through his teeth like a wild animal and his golden hair waves as it hangs over his shoulders and face, the shorter strands sticking to his sweaty cheeks and lips. He's incredible, a vision of pure power and lust and Alphonse almost climaxes at the sight of him.
"Alphonse," Edward says breathlessly, pulling his younger brother up so that he's almost standing straight. "Al— touch yourself."
Alphonse nods and takes hold of his swollen cock; the head is an angry red and shining with so much pre-come that it's almost too easy for Alphonse to pump it in slow, faineant strokes but as Edward continues to fuck him roughly and quickly he finds his hand matching the pace. He moans loudly when he feels a hand sneaking up his back towards his tattoo and his knees almost buckle when a finger is pressed right into the centre of it, making it sting like hell and he screams in pleasure.
"That good?" Edward huffs, tracing the pattern as accurately as he can with his vigorous movements. "You like that, Al?"
"Yes," Alphonse gasps, still pulling on his throbbing length. Already the heat is coiling in his belly and he is torn between letting himself come and holding himself back. "So good, big brother—"
He's cut of when Edward pushes his chest down flat against the table top and then retakes hold of his hips to support him. There's just enough space for Alphonse to keep his hand moving, his orgasm edging closer and he can't hear himself think over the slapping of his and Edward's skin as his brother thrusts harder and deeper into him, pounding against his prostate. He feels inebriated with pleasure and as his body begins to tense he grabs at the table's edge with his free hand as if to steady himself, even though Edward has a perfectly good hold on him and would never let him fall.
"Al," Edward croaks, his fingers digging into his younger brother's flesh, "Al, I can't hold it—"
"Then don't," Alphonse pants in response.
He jerks his hand faster, digging his thumb into the slit of his cock and he can barely feel the ache in his thighs as they are slammed into the table's sharp edge; his body is flushing with heat and he can't see anymore, just hears his own racing heartbeat and Edward's gasping as he now chases his orgasm in uneven thrusts. He feels himself tightening around Edward's cock and when it slides right against his spot he topples over the edge, coming in hot spurts all over his chest as well as the table and there is a distant yelling behind him that signals Edward's simultaneous release. Alphonse's eyes roll back into his head and he arches up, still squeezing his dick as he draws his release out and his knees begin to buckle beneath the weight of both himself and his brother.
"Al," Edward gasps, holding onto him with a sudden gentle strength that has a completely different tone to his ferocity from only moments before. "Alphonse—"
Alphonse opens his eyes and leans his head back against his brother's sweaty shoulder, wincing when his tattoo sticks to Edward's chest. Edward is trembling and still moving his hips slightly as he holds on to him, his hands smoothing all over his come—covered stomach and breathing heavily into his ear.
"Big brother," Alphonse breathes, reaching behind Edward's head and running a hand through the loose hair. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Edward says with a small nod and presses a soft kiss to Alphonse's Adam's apple. "Are you?"
"Of course," Alphonse smiles, turning his head and bumping his lips against Edward's. Edward smiles back before kissing him softly and lazily, his tongue running over his bottom lip and Alphonse sighs when he pulls away. "Are you still pissed off with me?"
Edward blinks at him before shifting backwards, his cock sliding out of Alphonse but he keeps hold of him as he turns him around to press their sticky chests together.
"Maybe," Edward says, his breath hot on Alphonse's lips. "I'm not sure yet."
Alphonse pouts but secretly he's thrilled. He can definitely get some more fun out of this if he plays his cards right because now he knows exactly how to push Edward's buttons. He rubs his face on Edward's neck and inhales his musky, oily scent before saying, "We made such a mess, big brother. We should probably clean up."
Edward snorts and pulls away from Alphonse, a devious smile on his face and he looks from the come—covered table to the clothes and belt remnants on the wooden kitchen floor.
"I'm not cleaning anything," he laughs, stepping backwards and heading for the door. "You can do it."
"What?" Alphonse says loudly with a scandalised expression. "Why me?"
"It's your punishment for getting that fucking tattoo," Edward grins and his eyes flash playfully. "Let me know when you're done so I can start dinner."
Alphonse then watches in disbelief as his beautiful, naked brother leaves him alone in the kitchen to deal with the cleaning and even though he feels that it is entirely unfair, he knows that somewhere along the line he probably deserves it.