kirby’s kinktober (twenty-three)
body worship//edward elric
I left it ambiguous as to whether or not this takes place in brotherhood or 2003. I prefer 2003 personally but each version of this boy deserves love.
you know that years of disability and scars, both emotional and physical have left edward always feeling pained and burdensome.
it shows whenever you’re intimate and you’re determined to help him manage it, with warmth and loving support expressed through feather-light, carnal touches.
he always seems to shiver when you kiss his body. he squeezes his eyes and scrunches his blushing face when you lips and fingertips graze the browned, scarred skin of where his metal arm the remains of his human shoulders and chest.
“edward,” your calm voice chimes as you crawl on top of his laying figure. he sighs out when you touch his face, exhaling a breath he didn’t even notice he was holding. “relax.”
your voice has equal parts adoration and concern as he unclenches his jaw and lets his tense muscles loosen.
“s-sorry. i just,” he trails off. unless his eyes are in planted firmly in an alchemy book, edward’s mind always rushes with anxieties, equations trying to match all his wrongdoings and traumas together like a messy, winding puzzle. at the moment, he worries that it’s killing the mood but he just can’t word it.
but it’s okay. you understand. you put your hand on his cheek and from above him like this, the light of the orange sunset leaking through open curtains onto the curves of your silhouette - it’s like he’s making love to an angel.
every thrust up reminds him how warm you are, inside as your soaking walls clench his length but also in your voice.
he gives a throaty moan as you push back his golden hair to kiss his ear.
“you’re so beautiful, edward.”
“baby…” he mewls your name when you sink down onto him and suddenly he can’t focus on anything except your compliments.
“I mean it.” your hands brush his sculpted abs and chest. “I love all the work you’ve put into your body. I love how you persevere.”
even if he can’t feel the warmth he can tell you’re touching the cold metal of his leg and gasps sharply when you reach the stump of where it meets his human flesh.
“so much pain.” you coo, rolling your hips so slow he can’t help but buck his hips up to signal for a faster pace, which you happily oblige.
you kiss and nip at his neck as your soft body molds against his. every time he wonders if his body is deserving of yours, with its multitude of all the old stab wounds and blunt hits - maybe you’d prefer something smooth and soft.
ever since alphonse had recovered his body, he’s been soft and warm without a trace of old wounds cuts. should edward be jealous? wouldn’t you prefer something like that?
“i love you edward.” you whisper as if reading his thoughts and tears prick at his eyes. he doesn’t wipe them because your hands interlock with his and the gesture alone brings close him to orgasm.
“i love feeling you inside me. it’s so hard and warm. i love every bit of your skin, and your hair and those fiery golden eyes.”
his mind wants to reject it.
“i want you to feel it.” your chest rubs against his, voice airy and close to breaking from the wet pleasure below. “do you feel how much i love you?”
he does and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. but he chokes up and spasms as his hips give a stuttered jump pulling out and creaming onto his toned stomach with a shaky sob of a breath.
“i-i’m sorry.” he shakes his head. “it was early, it’s pathetic i know you just…”
“no, no.” you cup his face and kiss him with a warmth that always melts the icy, metal barrier that years of hurt have put around his heart.
“did your body feel good?”
“then that’s all that matter.”
you cradle his head into your neck like a baby and edward finally lets himself feel, breaking down. finally out of his own head, he doesn’t care if it’s embarrassing, he just cares that you’re here.
