Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Al is staring at him.

Ed shifts under his view, looking out the window. Standing a few feet apart in the main hallway of their little isolated cottage, Al’s nostrils flare as Ed’s scent spikes with the inklings of his sudden heat; there’s a strange sort of halo around his brother, with the reflections of the setting sun illuminating him. Five years from crossing the Gate for the final time, Alphonse towers over him by now, despite physically being five years younger. A tiny part of Ed will always pout and bitch about it, but the years have mellowed him down. He can’t care, because his brother is here, in flesh and blood and he’s perfect.

He can also smell the desire oozing off his scent.

“Brother?” He asks softly, a tentative hope rising within his voice.

A lot has changed since they made the decision to stay here, after breaking the array that opened the pathway to the place they once used to call home. The very first thing that Ed did after passing through the Gate, after seeing Alfons’ bloody dead body on Noah’s lap, and after Alphonse recovered his memories by making the decision to stay with him in this world, was break down. In the privacy of his soon to be vacated apartment, just before the funeral.

The funeral of the boy he’d been with for two years. The funeral of the boy who’d been dying before his very eyes without his knowledge. The funeral of the boy he’d treated with such detached callousness that his final request could only be to never forget him. Edward will forever hate himself for not being able to return any of what Alfons gave him.

Alphonse doesn’t ask what the other boy was to him, what it was that they had, but Ed knows he pieces it together before long. The clothes he wears in the meantime are Alfons’, the clean ones that had been lingering in Ed’s closet. Seeing him standing there, in Alfons’ well-worn coat with a hesitant expression, akin to a ghostly reminder—it’s only sheer force of will that he doesn’t spiral into oblivion then and there. He can’t, not when Al needs him so badly, and is so clearly affected by the idea of having been replaced.

He wasn’t, he could never be. Ed clings to his brother like a lifeline in his need to prove it, but he knows it’s an idea that never quite leaves his mind. The quiet jealousy rolls off of him in waves, even during the funeral service, when he’s trying to be respectful of Alfons’ memory. At the end of it, they’re the only ones who remain, Noah having left them momentarily to their moment of privacy.

Edward stares in forlorn silence at the gravestone, throat tight, flowers held loosely in his hand. Alphonse stands uneasily with a bitten lip, expression complicated with what had to be a million different conflicting emotions about this boy who had been his doppelganger, who’d stood by Ed when they were universes apart, and who ultimately suffered and perished for his selfishness.

He breathes, eyes damp, but no tears willing to fall. “He deserved better than me,” he mutters hoarsely, and Alphonse jerks beside him.

“Don’t say that, brother!” Al protests vehemently. “Anyone would be lucky to have you!”

“That’s the thing, Al,” Edward sighs, looking at him straight in the eye. “He didn’t have me.”

Al falls quiet then, stricken, and they don’t talk about Alfons any more after that.

Ed happens to miss his heat after getting back through the Gate, when they’re on the road, and he doesn’t panic, exactly. There’s only one obvious suspicion he can have for why it passed him by—that maybe his body didn’t consider Alfons as null as he’d thought. They hadn’t slept together many times, not after Edward fucked things up so badly that first time. Alfons could scarcely look him in the eye, and Ed never dared invite him back into his nest. He’d lost that right entirely.

A week before that fateful carnival where they met Noah, Ed got suddenly hit with a heat so bad that Alfons couldn’t stand to hear him suffer anymore behind his closed door, and offered what he only saw as medical aid now. He knew he’d never measure up to the person Ed thought of when he looked at him, yet he helped anyway.

It was the last time they ever touched each other. What Alfons didn’t know is that it was also the first and only time Ed didn’t call out his brother’s name. A peak into something that could have been. Isn’t it funny how things work out?

To be clear, he knows this was always the danger when he made the choice to ride out his heats with Alfons without any protection at hand. While logically nothing could come off it, it’s still something he’d always mentally charted out the possibilities for. Alphonse would probably not quite kill him if he found out, but at the time, wrapped up in the delusional hope of making his way back home while battling the reality that he might never, and the idea of not seeing his little brother again…

Alfons wasn’t his Al, but—he wouldn’t have minded it.

Still, he chooses not to burden his brother yet and doesn’t mention it like he would anything else. They don’t really keep secrets anymore—except for this, apparently. He waits anxiously, pouring himself into their research while he tries to see whether it was a fluke or something more. He doesn’t have morning sickness nor does he feel any soreness, but that’s never a guarantee. Alphonse notices, because of course he does.

They’re in the middle of some dingy rented room in a worn-down town, having long since moved out of Munich. Ed still doesn’t know if they’re going to try and make it out of Germany or stay and try to protect the people that need to be protected like in Amestris. They’re going over the intel and research they’ve gathered, Alphonse still trying to make sense of this world’s scientific theories, its system of physics and how chemistry relates to alchemy, when he notices Ed’s discomfort.

“Brother?” He asks after a moment of loaded silence, looking up from their papers in concern. “Is something wrong?”

Ed stares at the mess strewn across the wooden floor, biting his lip, before waving his hand with a forced smile. “Nothing you need to worry about, right now,” he says, even though it clearly doesn’t convince his brother. “It’s—if it’s what I think it is, I’ll tell you, okay?” He assures, and Al purses his lips.

“You know you can trust me, right?” He asks quietly. His eyes flicker for a moment, but hold steady into his as he continues. “You’re—you’re all I have.”

Ed’s heart clenches slightly. He is, isn’t he? He’s all Al has ever had, and Al is all he’s ever had—since their birth to their rebirth and beyond. He’s no one without Alphonse, and he isn’t startled to find he’s okay with that, he just has to work not to hurt him in any way, even though he might have already done so by—being with Alfons.

“I know, Al.” He mutters, and quickly discards his glove to touch Al’s hand, flesh to flesh, something that seemed almost impossible ages ago. Al’s breath hitches, and his cheeks color beautifully as Ed grips and squeezes it tightly. “You’re the only one I can trust.”

At that, a tentative smile grows on Al’s face, reassured and pacified, and he dives back into their research with renewed eagerness. Even being unpresented, happiness rolls off of his muffled scent, and finally, a genuine grin makes its way on Edward’s face, just from watching him. Maybe they would be fine, after all.

Things aren’t sunshine and daisies, of course. The months pass, they go places, fix situations where they can, fight people when they need to, and end up making allies and enemies everywhere they go.

Almost without trying, they start building a reputation not unlike the one they had as alchemists, and it’s frightening how easily it happens. It’s not so different from their time in Amestris, which is a problem, because with the fallout of their conflict with the Thule Society and the simmering political tension in the background, they can’t afford to be as gung-ho as before and draw too much attention. Less for his own sake, and more for Al’s.

“I can’t afford to lose you again,” Ed begs to his upset brother, stripped of all composure and dignity when faced with his compromised safety.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, brother. These people need more help than me.” Alphonse tries to assure, so certain that other people’s needs are more important than his own.

“You don’t know that,” Ed hisses, well aware of what happens to people the Nazis take an interest in. “Al—how would you feel in my place?”

Al flinches, paling at the very idea of Ed in danger. He knows very well that without alchemy and their old allies, they can only rely on themselves to keep each other safe. Finally, he relents. They will still help where they can, but no more shenanigans that draw unnecessary eyes to them like before. A balancing act of keeping their new home and his own brother safe. It’s the only peace of mind Ed can have in the early months of 1924.

(And of course, there’s that damned uranium bomb. He shivers to think about what that could do to their new home.)

In the middle of it all, he keeps on feeling nothing out of the ordinary, barring the new fullness of his automail—thank you, Winry—and, eventually, a few weeks off from his usual date, his heat.

It’s sudden and violent, but they’re lucky enough for it not to hit in public. In a little rented pub room at midnight, Edward suffers, hugging himself with a blanket while he works his fingers inside of himself, tears pricking at his eyes. On the other end of the bed, Alphonse watches, frozen, eyes wide and mouth hung open.

Ed refuses to look him in the eye. Now that he has his memories back, Al has to remember all the times he’s had a heat before. The most mortifying one—his presentation heat—plays on Ed’s mind akin to psychological torture. Writhing around inside his brother’s armor and then humping his fingers atop his lap—he remembers how debilitating it felt, how humiliating, how it snuck up and started burning him up from inside, encompassing the world around him.

He also remembers how panicked and terrified Alphonse had been when he picked him up, but also how determined he’d been to get him to safety and take care of him, even with the way Ed acted afterward. He’s sure the same has to be running through Al’s mind, yet he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he strides to Ed with a resolute expression, and starts cuddling him without Ed needing to ask for it. He grips his slightly smaller body like a lifeline, shivering violently.

Al doesn’t comment on his crimson flush, his breathy whimpers, or the embarrassing sound of Ed thrusting his wet fingers in and out of his slick pussy under the blanket.

(Ed doesn’t dare ask for more. His brother’s five years younger now—how could he?)

In two days, they’re back on the road, bantering with each other as if nothing had happened. They move a lot, now. Regardless of whether they stay in Germany or leave, he knows that someday, they’ll find some place to settle, but he doesn’t need a home right now, because Al is his home. However, in the quiet of their travels, he reflects on this heat, and Al’s eyes keenly track the way Ed lays his gloved flesh hand on his stomach, almost subconsciously.

A fluke, then. The short time spent in Amestris probably messed with his cycle somehow, so it wasn’t that. He’s not sure what to think or feel—a tiny part of Ed that he didn’t know existed rues what never was, even though he knows for a fact that a child is never a good memento from a dead person. All he knows for certain is that when he dies, he’s gonna owe Alfons a big fucking apology.

If Al suspects what he had suspected, he makes no mention of it, even if Ed catches him glaring mournfully into the distance every now and then, frowning slightly. Every single time this happens, Ed sneaks up on him and scents him, unprompted. The first time he does, Al jumps as Ed throws his arms around him from behind and plasters their necks together, rubbing their glands against each other. His little brother gasps in surprise, and then whines as he goes lax in his arms, purring until he smells like Ed and only Ed.

“Brother…?” Alphonse asks as he turns back around, pink in the face and disconcerted, albeit not unpleased.

Ed grins. “Just making up for lost time,” he chirps in response, and Al smiles sheepishly, before diving back into his arms for more. Ed has no problem indulging him.

Still, he doesn’t really have any time to remain hung up about the scare and what could have been. The reason for this is because, another couple of months later and shortly after Al turns fourteen, he presents.

For a moment, he wonders sardonically if sudden, inconvenient presentations are just a running theme in their family. Maybe it even happened to Hohenheim centuries ago too, before all that business with Dante. Ed then shudders at the thought, because gross.

They’re walking through a deserted park in the afternoon, having an argument. Being so young, Alphonse still has a chance to get something resembling a normal life—an education, friendships, somewhere to belong to outside their little bubble. Everything Ed could never have. The idea of being apart from him after having searched for him for so long, literally tearing apart the worlds just to find him, makes him sick to his stomach.

“So don’t do it, brother!” Al protests, “I don’t need any of that. I just need you.”

And oh, doesn’t Ed return the sentiment tenfold? Didn’t he try erasing himself from existence just for Alphonse? He feels like turning into liquid obsidian at the idea of being separated from him in any way, but—it’s for the best, isn’t it? His brother still has something worth salvaging.

“We won’t be far away, Al,” he tries to convince, even though it kills him to. “We won’t be away. Being in school doesn’t mean I’ll leave you by yourself—”

“How do you know that?” Al demands. “Besides, we don’t have anywhere to stay. We can’t stay anywhere as long as we’re out here helping people. And how can I think about school when we still need to find—”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have a life, Al,” Ed insists, pained and desperate. “We already went through this once, and it didn’t end well. I’m not saying we should stop searching, I actually think we should search more, but it’s been months and we’re nowhere near that thing. I don’t want you to waste your life on the road. You deserve more.”

His voice hitches on that last sentence. Ed fucking hates that he can’t be more and give Al everything he should have, and almost a decade after the accident that sent them tumbling down this path, he still hates himself deep down for being the cause of this. However, that is something that he can’t afford to dwell on any longer when his brother needs him.

The thing is, he needs Al just as much, and he sees right through him. Al looks at him with a defiant expression, and takes a few steps forward until they’re almost eye to eye. He’s gotten taller, Ed notices.

“So do you, brother,” Al says fervently, scent flaring, and grips his hands tightly. “I don’t need a life when I have you.”

Ed feels like the earth will give out below him, because the scary thing is—he agrees with him. Suddenly he feels dizzy, and quickly averts his gaze, dropping Al’s hands as he continues walking, trying to ignore how betrayed he looks. They’ll continue this conversation later.

In the meantime, Ed realizes forlornly that has to find a way to make money. He’s no longer the Fullmetal Alchemist, he is only Edward Elric, and in this world, that doesn’t mean much to anyone. Since their father isn’t around to help out anymore… He shakes off that train of thought. Ed isn’t as all-knowing as he once thought himself to be, but he’s smart. He can work something out.

His stomach twists at the thought of going back to rocketry. Ed never confessed this to Alfons, but at the time, he’d only taken an interest in it to go back home. He had a feeling that, after their first shared heat, Alfons had suspected something. Going back now would feel like an insult to his memory. He could try and find a job somewhere as a scientist, maybe even teach while Alphonse continues his studies. In any case…

“It shouldn’t be that hard, right? Al?” He says, and is met with silence. Ed stops in his tracks. “Al?”

Al doesn’t answer him. Apprehensively, Ed turns to look back at his brother. He’s frozen in place, nearly standing on tiptoes akin to a bristling cat, with his eyes blown wide and pupils dilated. His mouth is twisted in a grimace, and at the corners of his lips, Ed swears he can see some fangs peeking out.

Heart dropping, Ed takes a cautious step forward—and then he’s absolutely slapped in the face with a sourly bittersweet scent that screams newly-presented Alpha.

Oh, fuck.

Izumi had given them a very, very meager amount of sex education during their training, as well as Pinako before and after her, since Trisha never got the opportunity to do it herself. In his infinite arrogance, Ed disregarded the information back then, believing that they’d never need it.

Now more than ever, he wishes he’d listened, as he discretely tries to escort the nearly-hyperventilating Alphonse back to their cheap hotel room, waving with an uneasy grin at the suspicious desk clerk as they pass through to their bedroom, trying to whisper encouragements to Al as he clutches Ed’s arm with a deathly grip.

Al is literally tearing his clothes off by the time they make it to the still-messy bed, weak snarls mixed with soft whining. Ed is more measured, he needs to be, so he only removes his waistcoat and shirt, leaving his upper half uncovered just so his brother has unrestricted access to his scent. Before long, Al stands naked, illuminated by the midday sun leaking through the window, and his pupils are nearly black by the time he looks back at Ed.

His eyes roam over Ed’s bare torso, his fair skin and pink nipples erect in the cold air with his familiar scent permeating the room, attempting to soothe his distressed brother, and he pounces, sending them both tumbling onto the mattress.

”Brother, brother—” Al gasps atop him, torn between a moan and a growl, and Ed shushes him. He can feel his cock, rock hard and leaking, pressed against his clothed thigh. Al trembles, and his voice hitches into a tiny sob as he grinds against Ed. His pants prevent any penetration from happening, and he wouldn’t have let it happen anyhow, but tears leak out of his baby brother’s eyes and soak Ed’s shoulder, where Al buries his face.

“B—brother—I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” He babbles, sobbing as his rut intensifies. He’s chasing Ed’s scent, he notices, and he bucks his hips as Ed’s flesh hand snakes down to grip his still-growing Alpha cock, gently pumping it. Ed’s cheeks flame hot, and Al sobs even harder, almost tipping into hyperventilation with his moans.

“I—I can’t stop it, I’m so sorry brother it hurts—”

Edward remembers his own presentation, he wishes he could take this humiliation from his brother. He does his best to calm him down, running his automail hand through his hair and pulling Al’s head down to rub their scent glands together. Ed kisses his cheek softly, murmuring praises and sweet nothings into his ear.

“You’re doing so great, Al. So good, so perfect…” Is one of the things he says, and he means it. His brother is everything he could never be, but for some reason, this makes him shake harder, even as his cheeks grow pink.

Their sweaty chests are practically plastered to each other’s, but their lips never meet despite Ed’s suppressed desire, and Al cries into his shoulder as he bites it. It's not long until his little developing knot locks onto the ring Ed creates with his thumb and forefinger, shooting all over his stomach, thick and viscous in a way Ed’s non-virile release never was, or even Alfons’ normal one, and something inside him craves.

Momentarily brought back to reality, Al apologizes profusely, mortified and embarrassed, but Ed waves him off with a reassuring smile, even when he feels hot on the inside and his pussy is dripping inside his pants.

Half a week passes, with Ed spending the short breaks between the waves getting food and water, just like Al once did for him, and replying to anyone who asks that his little brother has a fever and he needs to take care of him. It’s close enough to the truth, anyway.

When he has the lucidity to recognize the situation, Al is miserable, clearly thinking that he’d made some sort of mistake by presenting as an Alpha, but Ed is having none of that.

“You’re perfect the way you are.” He insists, holding Al close to his chest as he hiccups through his tears.

“But I’m…” He gestures weakly to the space around him, as if that would explain it. To Ed, it does, and he pries himself off just a bit to look sternly into his brother’s tearful eyes and crestfallen expression.

“Hey, listen—I made you again, didn’t I?” Ed makes himself say, bringing the painful memories to the forefront, and playfully flicks at Al’s nose with a forced grin. “Are you really insulting my craftsmanship like that?”

It seems to have its intended result, since Al giggles wetly and a bit hysterically, but it does bring him back from the brink of despair he’d been in. When the next wave kicks in, he doesn’t apologize anymore. All he does is beg.

And so, abruptly as it began, his rut comes to a close, and both everything and nothing changes. Despite his new equipment and a stronger scent, Alphonse is still Alphonse, and Edward is still Edward. Their mission doesn’t stop, their research doesn’t end, and the Earth keeps spinning. Still, no matter his reassurances, Al would not be able to look him in the eye for quite some time. He doesn’t hold it against him, he was the same back then.

And yet, there’s an interesting difference. When Ed first presented, he got clingier in spite of the shameful experience he selfishly put Alphonse through. Now that Al has presented, he doesn't get any clingier—he gets possessive. Territorial, even.

When they go to eat at a pub, Al glares holes at the waitress who bats her eyes at Ed. Anytime they walk on the cobbled streets, making plans about their next steps, his brother stops abruptly and growls lowly at anyone looking funny at them—well, not the two of them, but Ed.

And on one memorable occasion when they’re nearing the countryside, they come across a wandering farmhand with an uncanny resemblance to Russell Tringham, of all people. Ed and Al gape at him, before noticing how much he’s struggling with his cart. Despite the initial shock, they quickly go to help him, and the boy turns out to be much more amiable than the one they knew in their world. Ed scoffs mentally at the irony, until…

“Thanks,” the Tringham alternate says, grinning down at him. Ed wonders just how different this world had to be for this boy to have turned out so different from the one on his own. “Do you want to come have dinner with us? My brother wouldn’t mind the company, I’m sure.”

He squeezes Ed’s shoulder, and bemusedly notices the subtle wink the farmboy sends his way. It’s a bold move with someone he just met, especially in a world so intolerant toward this type of relationship. Ed would be almost impressed, if it weren’t for Alphonse growling loudly and forcefully tearing the boy’s hand away from his shoulder. “No, we don’t!” He snarls, sounding more like an angry puppy than anything.

Ed can’t lie, it’s adorable. Alternate Russell looks at his brother in shock, then back at Edward. He smiles apologetically.

“Um, thanks for the offer, but we do need to be somewhere else today. Maybe some other time?”

Meaning never, of course. The other boy seems to realize it too, and he smiles ruefully, acknowledging the loss.

“I get it, my brother’s attached to me too. Good luck, then. See you around?” He says, and goes to make the trek up a hill to return to his farm. Ed waves at him as he leaves, while Al keeps glaring at him all the way. The minute he’s gone, he sags in on himself, and turns the other way, shame clear on his face.

Ed eyes him curiously, and squeezes his arm. “Al?”

His little brother’s lip trembles, and his eyes are downcast. “I’m sorry, brother. Let’s just go.”

That was the only time he ever allowed his jealousy to flare openly in front of Ed. He wonders a lot of things; if this is normal in newly-presented Alphas, what things would be like if the roles were reversed, if Ed would be this way if Al had had a body when he presented…

How he would have reacted to Alfons if he’d lived. His stomach twists at the thought.

Ed can’t let it get farther than that. He knows it’s ridiculous, nonsensical, unnecessary, and even Al seems to know it, but it’s a firm line. He just can’t, not after everything. Whenever their cycles get close, they can give each other clothing articles with their scents, they can cuddle in the more intense ones, but sex—let alone mating—is off the table, period.

“It’s to minimize risks,” he explains vaguely to Al on one occasion, fully aware of how unsatisfactory an answer it is, and doesn’t begrudge his brother for his ensuing frustration. Still, Al accepts Ed’s refusal, despite the look full of want he seems to have on his face whenever Ed retreats to whichever room he’s occupying at the moment.

Despite this, they never, ever tried to spend their cycles with anyone else. Even when Ed was literally crying out for a cock to fill him up, when Al was whining for something to milk his knot, when they were yearning, they never invited anyone else. Not even any of the tentative friendships they’d made, like Noah—it’s an unspoken rule to them.

There are logical reasons for this; the danger of their secret getting to the wrong people, the lack of acceptance in this world compared to Amestris, and, Ed keeps repeating to himself, a complete and utter lack of trust in anyone that isn’t each other.

The last one haunts his dreams, as the answer to their woes lies either in the next room over, or just next over, in the bed, cuddling the other. But, Alphonse respects his boundaries, and Edward refuses to give in. The guilt is a bed he’d made and laid in, but even with the combined memories, the last age Al remembered being was fifteen. It’s not like the years stack up, he just has two sets of memories now. Physically and mentally, he’s a child, while Ed is no longer.

It’s an arbitrary, unimportant line, considering everything they’d done and seen, yet it always seems to stop him in his tracks. All those years ago, he’d given up what little childhood he had in the name of returning his brother’s body to him, so how could he make Alphonse give up his newfound one? How does he know he won’t be robbing his little brother of something he’ll never get back if they mate now? Al seems to differ whenever he brings up his youth in other contexts, but it’s something that never leaves his mind.

Yet, an unpleasant part of his mind whispers, he won’t always be one. He firmly tamps that down, even when he notices Al glancing at him with longing, when he thinks Ed isn’t looking. He fails to not shiver in anticipation, because he remembers, something that he doesn’t know if Al does too.

“This doesn’t have to change anything.” He’d murmured in the middle of the night, after his brother’s first rut ended. An echo of deeply repressed memories. He was almost asleep, and he’d thought Al was, too, until—

“I want it to.” Alphonse whispered softly into his neck. Ed pretended he fell asleep, and Al didn't repeat it.

Time is a funny thing.

Back in Amestris, his concept of time ended with their mother. After the failed—well, relatively failed transmutation, birthdays came and went. Other people remembered it for him, Al and Winry most of all. Ed did remember his brother’s birthdays, and it killed him that they couldn’t celebrate it properly while he was in that armor. When put against Al’s pain, Ed felt like his birthdays were unimportant, just a funny piece of information to recall every now and then.

And yet, without fail, Alphonse always got him something. Anything he could get his hands on—a cupcake with a tiny candle, at the very least. They always spent those evenings chatting and laughing the night away as if all were right with the world.

Alfons had never done that, Ed never gave him any reason to—it would have felt a betrayal to Al, himself, and Alfons. His stomach still twists thinking of all the ways he’d wronged the boy, whose memory remained in a picture hidden deep inside his trunk. And yet, certain things don’t change, because on Ed’s nineteenth birthday, Al gives him a pastry with a sheepish smile, and he has to try so hard not to break down.

Time goes by, slow and fast at the same time. Somehow, Ed gets a job as a scientist in a remote town. He proves he deserves it with sheer grit and brains, and gets rewarded with a flexible schedule and ample use of research materials.

Somehow, Alphonse finally agrees to continue his studies, luckily at a school near his workplace. By this world’s standards, he’s a fucking prodigy, catching up and filling the gaps in his education in what seems like no time comparably, and Ed is so fucking proud. The change is hard, almost insurmountable with the way their lives are structured, but little by little, they manage it.

Their heats and ruts will be tough in such public settings, they will need to find creative excuses, but it’s not forever. Vacations exist, but school will only be a few years at best for Al, though he’s determined to get it done quicker. Ed is impressed, he’s sure he has it in him.

The most important thing is—they won’t be apart the way he’d feared. On the outskirts of this town, close to the countryside, there’s another village. Small, humble, and painfully familiar. The first time they set foot in, glancing in awe at the duller green hills and the quaint, cozy houses, with people going about their days, Ed’s eyes fall on a small engineering workshop, and he swallows. By his side, Al grips his hand like a lifeline.

The greasy brunette girl going about behind the window isn’t Winry. The old lady peacefully rocking on her chair at the porch while the gramophone plays softly on a small table isn’t Pinako. When the girl notices them through the windowpane and cheerfully greets them outside, she kindly doesn’t mention the way Ed’s hands shake. And when the granny mentions how rare it is for young folk to visit, Al is the one to lead the conversation and ask for more information, even as he subtly covers the quickening rise and fall of his chest.

Ed truly, genuinely doesn’t know if this place is the geographical counterpart for Resembool, but it’s close enough. It gives him a certain nostalgic comfort he’d been missing for what feels like an eternity, and he knows Al feels it too. When the girl points to a vacant lodging at the very end of the village, a cross between cottage and house that looks just right for two or three people, what can they do but buy it?

Eternity is an ephemeral concept. The rest of their life still feels like a goal to achieve, something near reach but still unattainable. As they set foot inside the cozy home for the first time, luggage in tow, looking around the living room, stairs, study, everything, Ed thinks—they could make something out of this.

Walking to work and school will be a chore, and this might not last forever. They might be forced to leave someday, out of necessity or want. But for the first time in three years, since the Gate first consumed him, Ed breathes.

By his side, Al smiles. And so, from the moment they first stepped foot into this world together, five years pass.

Which brings them to now.

Midway through summer in the year of 1928, a twenty-three year old Edward wakes up in a quiet morning with a strange sensation. He doesn’t recognize it as anticipation until he starts serving breakfast for himself and his yawning brother.

As they both dig in, Ed decides, for once, that maybe it’s best to stay in today. He wonders if maybe subconsciously, part of him could already tell what was happening. Alphonse pokes fun at his overeating, and Ed snarks back, because of course, but there’s an odd tinge to it that day; the air between them seems to be charged with an expectation for something that hasn’t quite come yet.

Alphonse seems to sense it too, because he frowns pensively, brushing his hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear. He’s been growing it out again in the past year, since graduating. Right now, it reaches his chin, and while it’s usually pulled back in a small ponytail, he’s wearing it loose today, framing his face with his usual bangs on top. If Ed’s being honest, he rocks the look much better than Envy ever did, but he’s never going to say that.

Still, Al’s eyes linger on him, and Ed feels hot under the collar as he avoids his gaze and retreats to their personal study.

Technically, this is nothing new. It hasn’t been since Al turned eighteen. From his presentation to then, Alphonse never suggested going beyond what they already did, despite the way he so obviously telegraphed that he wanted more. Even if he had been open about it, Ed would have put a stop to it, because they couldn’t. Honestly, part of him thought that maybe, just maybe, Alphonse would forget about it by the time he came of age, even if something buried deep inside him cried out and mourned at the idea.

If anything, it’s the opposite. Despite being better adjusted than him socially, Al refuses to leave Ed’s side, and since crossing the threshold into adulthood, he scents him more often, touches him more often, stares at him longer. They had long since passed what would have been considered appropriate in Amestris, and now, Edward realizes with a jolt, there’s no reason they can’t do what his grieving mind had dreamed of in those years spent apart.

So why don’t they? Why is he still so reluctant about the idea?

Alphonse doesn’t follow him, and as the hours pass, Ed wonders if maybe he’d gone out into the village, or perhaps the town. He did tell Ed he’s looking into applying for a job near his own if not there outright, if his plans for a universitary career don’t pan out. While Ed only wants the best for his brother, he’d be lying if he says the possibility of being even closer to Al doesn’t excite him. That’s probably not the best thought to have at this moment.

He sits down to work on a chemistry essay, pushing aside the useless, wrinkled doodles of transmutation circles strewn about the desk. When he can’t get more than a few words in, he decides to take a recent purchase off a shelf—a memoir of the Great War. Of course, that doesn’t work either. The letters are blurry, his vision going in and out of focus, and as he stands to put the book back and maybe grab another—he sways on his feet, gripping the side of the bookshelf harshly, his automail accidentally causing splinters in the wood.

Ed feels himself grow hotter, and sweat pools on his neck. By this time, it’s clear what’s happening.

Idly, he remembers how all-encompassing his first heat had been. Either they’ve lost potency over the years, or he’s gotten so used to the feeling that his heats don’t have the same impact they once did. All he does is sigh irritably, squirming in place uncomfortably, and makes plans for how he’s gonna pass it. Again.

He emerges long past afternoon, resolute on ignoring his screaming instincts on the onset of his heat and intent on locking himself in his room as per usual, until he stumbles upon his messily half-dressed brother, clearly unwinding after a return from somewhere. He’s in the middle of shrugging his coat off when Ed’s scent drifts over to him, causing him to utterly stiffen.

Ed remembers his first heat, and Al is staring at him.

“You’re going into heat,” Alphonse states softly, sounding a bit numb, thrown off-kilter by how off-schedule it is. The thing is, this is his first heat after Al turned eighteen, and they haven’t discussed how to navigate that. Clearly, Al has his own idea for what will come next. His breath quickens, his eyes go darker, his cheeks get tinged with red and anticipation writes itself all over his face. Edward gulps, growing even hotter under his smoldering gaze.

“Yup, it came early,” he responds stiffly, ignoring the flush climbing up his cheeks and looking away. “Don’t worry, though. I still have some time.”

“Time for what?” Al asks slowly, caution lacing his tone.

Edward purses his lips. Time for what, indeed. He clears his throat, and unconvincingly requests something which would have been a no-brainer request for anyone else, “For you to leave?”

His brother reels back, as if slapped. Immediately, Ed takes one step forward, an instinctive apology on his tongue, but he pauses, pained. Alphonse seems to be having some sort of internal war, and eventually, gathers his bearings and settles on asking, anguished, “Is that what you want?”

The question throws Ed in for a loop. He’d been prepared for begging, for demands, for Al to ask why they couldn’t do what was the natural course for them. Ed had never expected to be asked that, and in a way, it’s what finally lifts a curtain in his mind, because is it? Is it what he wants?

If Al leaves and he spends yet another heat without anything but his fingers to plug himself up alone, if Alphonse goes and finds someone who would accept him, who could potentially replace Ed the way Ed himself nearly did with him, will he be satisfied?

“What the fuck,” he whispers hopelessly to the heavens above, and looks back at his waiting brother. “Al, are we really having this conversation now?”

His lips twitch at the corners, and his brows crease together in something like sorrow. “If we don’t, when will we?” He asks, walking closer, and stops just a foot away from Ed. “Please, brother. Don’t shut me out now.”

“I’m not—” Ed begins, already defensive, but Alphonse stares him down. Immediately, he deflates, and sighs in defeat. “You’re right. Fuck me, I’m so sorry, Al, it’s just…” He drags his hand over his face, and looks at his brother with tired eyes. “Remember my first heat after the Gate?”

Alphonse purses his lips, pink now tinging his cheeks, and his hands clench as he looks down, whispering, “I wanted…”

“You couldn’t,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument. “You were a child, and I couldn’t do that to you. You understand, right? Even now, I’m…”

He trails off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He’s what? Ashamed? Sick in the head? Even after all his years on this Earth and on the other, he still doesn’t have a word for what he has with Al. More than brothers, not quite lovers. It’s probably not the most healthy relationship, but since when have they been? He knows family usually doesn’t want to mate with each other, but since when have he and Al fit the usual standard for family?

Why is he so resistant to having this?

“I’m not a child anymore,” Alphonse cuts in, determined and desperate. He licks his lips nervously as he continues, with momentary hesitation. “And… You’re the only thing I have—you’re all I’ve ever wanted…”

Despite himself, Edward feels a smile twitch up on his face as he feels a certain warmth deep in his gut. He’s not alone, huh? It’s easy to forget that from day one, his goal had also been Al’s, just in the opposite direction. A link reaching across universes, a bond tighter and stronger than the strongest automail plates in the world. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to fall into him, aside from the chronic loneliness and codependency. They’re all each other has ever wanted, yet still…

“You know why we shouldn’t do this, right?” He tries in the name of a token protest. It doesn’t work, given the unimpressed look Al throws his way, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Aside from the obvious, I mean.”

Alphonse bites his lip, and looks down. One of his hands comes up to cup his own scent gland, and he whispers, a little brokenly, “Is it because I’m an Alpha?”

Ed’s eyes widen, taken aback. Oh, shit. “What? No! Not at all, Al!” He insists, finally closing the distance between them and gripping his shoulders tightly, looking up at him, searching the insecurity in his eyes as he asks, “Where did you get that from?”

Al stays quiet for a moment, eyes avoiding Ed’s gaze, until he finally states, with a little hesitant voice, “Back then, you said you’d rather die before letting an Alpha…”

He trails off, and suddenly, Ed feels struck, harsh and cold. For a moment, his mind reels, once again repeating over and over that he needs to be mindful of how his words and actions affect everyone else. Then, of course, the need to make it right screams, so shamefully, the words are torn from him before he can think twice about it.

“You weren’t an Alpha, then.”

Sharply, Al looks up, but Ed continues, finally letting himself confess what he’d thought and hidden deep down all those years back, “When I said that, I didn’t say it to mean I didn’t want to spend my heat with anyone at all. I meant that I didn’t want to spend it with anyone that wasn’t you.”

Or a version of you, he thinks ruefully. But at this moment, that’s not the thing that seems to be going through Alphonse’s mind, as the wheels of his mind turn. He gasps, stupefied. “You mean, even back then…?”

Edward looks away in shame, but Al leans closer, and he can’t stop himself from inhaling the pheromones that gently say, Alpha, home, mate, as his brother grips his chin and turns it his way.

“Brother…” Alphonse begins, hopeful and nervously hesitant and beautiful, leaning in so close he can see the little honey specks in his gray eyes. “Will you let me help, now? Please?”

Slowly, a strange sort of epiphany happens upon Ed’s mind. He’s given up everything in the name of Equivalent Exchange. For Al to pass through the Gate, he needed to give up his alchemy, but in return gained back the four years of memories he’d lost. Ed knows better than to liken personal relationships to that concept by now, but—what if this is part of that? Unable to have a normal relationship with anyone else, why shouldn’t they give everything they have to each other? It wouldn’t be all that different, it’s what they’ve done since that day in Resembool, except…

Except now he’s allowed to just want this. He’s allowed to be wanted back.

“Alright.” He whispers back, feeling a spark in the air, as if by force of alchemy. As it sinks in, Alphonse slowly starts beaming, smiling all happy and dorky and lighting up like the sun, and Ed can’t help but match it with one of his own as he leads him back to his bedroom, feeling a little tingle down his spine.

Edward used to hate the idea of being owned, but he doesn’t think he’d mind belonging to Alphonse.

Back in Amestris, it would have been scandalous to invite one’s mate to witness their nest building, let alone their mate-to-be. The thing is, Ed has never given a fuck about that, they’re not in Amestris, and what they’re about to do is a much bigger transgression than that, so. Priorities.

Still, Al tries to give him his privacy by covering his eyes, bless his soul. He stands awkwardly next to the door, half-facing the wall, coat shucked off to one corner and remaining in his untucked white button-up and rumpled, half-undone pants. It truly speaks to Ed’s state that he ogles his brother’s lean form even in his clothed state, unable to keep himself from swatting his toned ass as he comes and goes, receiving a squeak and a flushed glare in response. Ed smirks at him as he sets up his nest.

Not that there’s much to do, in any case. He goes back to fetch some of Al’s worn clothing, throwing them on a heap on his bed with the rest of his unwashed clothes, still impregnated with his scent, mingling with Ed’s own. Only now is it hitting him how gross that is conceptually, but it slips away when he sees the depressing display strewn across his bed.

Ed glares mournfully at his nest, a sad trill clawing out of his throat. All these years, and he’s never managed to make anything more than this, a pathetic mound of clothing. He’s come to accept it for what it’s worth, because no matter how shitty it is, it’s his, but he wishes he had something fancier to present to the most important person in his life. Alphonse notices his distress, and quickly moves over to comfort him, shushing him with his calming purrs, softly embracing him with a gentle hug.

“It’s alright, brother,” Al says, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

It’s not, and he’s really not, but somehow, when Alphonse says it like that—Ed thinks he can believe it, just for a little while.

After letting himself be cuddled and comforted for a few minutes, he puts a hand on Al’s chest, and steps away. Not by much, but Al whines sadly anyhow, and Ed nearly does too once he realizes that he misses the contact not because of his heat, but because he wants Al. He wants him, and he wants to please him. Suddenly getting an idea, he pushes his brother onto the bed, and on his nest.

Alphonse’s jaw drops even as he lets himself fall on it, sitting up on his elbows and pupils dilating at being enveloped in Edward’s scent. To throw someone in your nest is to trust them with your life, with your being as a whole. Even in a world parallel to Amestris, the sentiment remains between them, and the flush that engulfs Al’s face is all-encompassing. Ed’s pretty sure he can see a few tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and he knows they’re not of sorrow, not with the utterly blinding smile he gives him.

Ed shoots him a smaller one, but not any less eager. Both his hands come up to his shirt, and he quickly throws away his vest. He has no plans to present, not in the traditional way. It’s what’s proper, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to do it again after what happened last time, and he doesn’t think Al would care either. However, he can give him a show, so slowly, teasingly, he starts from the top of his shirt, going down, button by button, little by little exposing more of his lean chest, his fair skin, the red flush traveling down his flesh, and Alphonse gapes in response.

“Brother…” He whispers in awe, and at this point, Edward just feels sheepish. Truth be told, he struggles to see what Al finds so attractive about him, but he can’t help but preen at the way he seems to drink up his bare torso once he discards the shirt on the floor. His brother’s eyes seem to be glued to his hands, and he leans even further forward as Ed undoes his pants. He bites his lip, trying not to laugh—Al really is a horny teenager, isn’t he? That’s alright, he likes him that way.

Unceremoniously, he slides them down in one fell swoop along with his boxers. Being sexy is far from one of Ed’s fortes, but it doesn’t seem to matter. With the shuddered breath Alphonse lets out at the sight of his naked body, his glistening cunt and his growing cocklet, he might well be the most erotic sight his brother had ever seen. Nevermind the automail, nevermind the scars, and Edward feels so wanted.

Alphonse tries to lean forward, clearly intending to pounce, but Ed is quicker. He places his hands on Al’s shoulders, pushing him back, and easily settles over him. Al’s breath hitches and gets quicker as his eyes flit everywhere about his body, and Ed smirks a little lopsidedly as he spreads his legs on either side of his thighs, snug on his lap, grinding his ass filthily against his erection and letting out a sinful moan.

He can pinpoint the exact moment his little brother’s brain stops working as he half-closes his eyes and groans, a little broken, canting his hips to gently meet Ed’s little thrusts. His hands try to grip his hips, but Ed gently pulls them away, feeling hot inside at the needy whine his brother lets out.

He shushes him gently, pressing a light kiss against his cheek, and softly orders, “Stay there, Al. There’s something I wanna do.”

Al whines again, but does as asked, and Ed rewards him with a kiss. Alphonse’s eyes widen as their lips come into contact, locking together for what he now realizes is the first time. Ed moans, swallowing Al’s surprised gasp, which soon devolves into a needy whimper of its own. With deft precision, he starts to unbutton Al’s shirt, and his brother arches his chest into the touch. The skin on his fingers feels like it sizzles where the flesh to flesh contact is made, leaving tingling trails on Al’s chest that make him shiver as Ed’s hand travels down.

His brother helps him shrug off the shirt, breaking the kiss for a moment, and as he does so, strips of pale skin are revealed. Edward’s eyes are drawn to the lean muscle on his torso, his entire goddamn body. It wasn’t like that the last Ed remembers it, and obviously, because when he first disappeared to the other side of the Gate, Al had been ten, and when they met again, he was thirteen.

A child, suddenly unburdened by the memories of their travels across Amestris, but suffering due to Ed’s disappearance. A different kind of burden that he went about remedying, just like Ed. It was unfair of him to dismiss his little brother’s feelings back then, and now—now he’s facing what was inevitable all this time, and is it terrible that he feels so pleased about it?

Al was a child, and now he’s not, and the sinful thoughts running through his mind at the reminder seem clear as day to Alphonse. He gives a little knowing smile, and seems to enjoy the growing blush on Ed’s face.

“Do you like my body, brother?” He asks, cradling the back of his head with a slender, nimble hand. Part of Ed misses how broad and big his armor’s hands had been, but the rest of him can’t care, because his brother is warm flesh and he’s perfect. He can’t put into words how much more he feels than just like, so he shows it, by pressing into a searing kiss and finally, finally, undoing the fastening on Al’s pants.

He feels warmth, and a heavy weight that makes something inside him turn into liquid heat—but Ed also feels an odd sort of confusion. He breaks the kiss again, pumping Al’s erect cock in his hand a couple of times experimentally. “B—Brother—” Alphonse gasps, bucking into the touch. Ed doesn’t understand, why does it feel so—so big?

Ed shuffles back, regrettably breaking the contact, but Al’s breath hitches as he realizes that he’s going to kneel in between his legs. He’s never been in this position before, he hadn’t done this with Alfons, and the wooden floor feels uncomfortably cold on his one knee, but that’s the least of his concerns as he gazes at Alphonse’s cock. The only time he’d beheld it and had it in his hands was when he presented, he didn’t know much it had grown.

It stands tall, nearly the height of Ed’s face. And it’s also thick, he notices—uncannily similar to one of the exaggerated heat-aid dildos back in Amestris, one of the few he’d once had the gall to try out. Impossibly, his fingers can barely wrap around it, it’s throbbing in his hold, and there’s already a pearl of precum gathering at the tip. His balls don’t fall behind either in their size, and the thought of the content waiting inside them has something purring deep inside him.

Al’s cock twitches at Ed’s stare, and he flushes, feeling the wetness between his legs grow. He swallows.

“Were you always this big?” Ed asks, perfectly aware of how stupid that question is, and receives an amused, slightly heated chuckle in response.

“I don't know,” Alphonse says, grinning, “were you always so much shorter than me?”

Just like that, a fire is lit up inside him. “Who are you calling short!?” Ed growls, “I'm five years older than you now, damnit!” He exclaims over Al’s chuckle, and tugs on his brother’s unfairly large cock, drawing a moan from him—and not one of pain, he notices. Ed’s face flames, as Alphonse voices the sinful thought that then passed through his mind.

“H—harder…” He gasps, hands clenching as beads of sweat run down his exposed neck. Ed feels like he’s burning from the inside out of desire, at the knowledge that his little brother likes being roughed up. In hindsight, with how much they used to spar—and still do sometimes—it might not be that surprising.

Still, Ed grips his cock tightly in his hand, pumping it with just a bit of harshness from the tip, to the base, where the little bump of his deflated knot rests. Al chokes at the treatment, thighs trembling, more precum leaking from the little slit atop his cockhead. Watching the clear liquid slide down, Edward can’t stop himself from leaning forward and licking it up. The reaction is instantaneous—Al squeaks, wheezing his name in a broken moan at experiencing his first blowjob, and it emboldens Ed to try and take the whole thing into his mouth.

It’s—well, he flushes deeper as he struggles to get all of it down. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do it so fast. Ed tries to relax his throat, feeling the fat head on the flat of his tongue, the salty taste spreading across his taste buds. He tries to bob his head up and down, tries his goddamn best to get it all inside, but he only gets maybe halfway down.

By now, he’s starting to get frustrated, and he shoves it further in. Al makes a noise of concerned surprise, but Ed doesn’t hear it, because what he just did is a mistake that has him choking and coughing, wheezing as he takes the cock out of his mouth with a grimace, glaring at it for this personal slight. Why did it have to grow so much?

“Are you—” Al chokes, and honest to God giggles. “Is it too big for you, brother? Do you need a break?”

Despite the humor lacing his tone, there’s an undercurrent of genuine worry in his words. However, it’s the last thing on Edward’s mind, because the concept that his little brother’s dick is too large for his body to handle is one that can’t compute, and one that makes his blood fucking boil. He snarls and takes his cock back into his mouth, growling around it, causing Alphonse to shiver and moan above him, and Ed tries desperately to take more of it into his mouth, deeper into his throat.

Either he’s out of practice, or he’s simply not as skilled as he figured he was. His gag reflex kicks in, and he has to take it out again, still throbbing and glistening with Ed’s saliva as he pants, out of breath.

“Seriously,” he gripes, sounding brattier than he’d like. “Why is it so fucking big?”

That comment brings a full laugh out of Al, and the sweet sound has Ed chuckling along, because—it is pretty absurd, isn’t it? He’s about to fuck his brother for the first time, and here he is complaining that his dick is simply too big to fit into his mouth. It’s so ridiculous, and yet, it’s a genuine grievance he has, because he wants Al to feel good.

“You should know what happened to my dick, don’t you?” Alphonse asks innocently, ignoring the way Ed looks sharply at him. “You made it, after all.”

The comment hits him square in the chest and sends blood rushing to his cheeks. Ed flushes violently, and feels himself grow even wetter at the innocuous yet purposeful reminder of the taboo, of the unspoken little print in the contract of Alphonse’s existence. In any other situation, it would be a mood killer, but it’s not, and with a snarl, he reaches up and smashes their lips together, Al moaning happily into their kiss even at the taste of himself.

“It’s not fair,” Ed whines into his lips. “I had this whole plan—I was gonna have you fuck my mouth, knot me…” His little brother’s gorgeous gray eyes grow impossible wide as his breath hitches, growing ragged in desire at Ed’s words. He curses, looking down in shame. “I wanted to make you feel good, damnit.”

“Brother,” Alphonse breathes, “making you feel good makes me feel good, don’t you see? You don’t need to do all that, just let me take care of you.”

He caresses the side of Ed’s waist, thumbing gently at the part where his skin met his automail plate. Ed purrs at the treatment, nosing at the gland on Al’s neck, inhaling his calming scent, which had in the past years bloomed into something forest-like, full and soothing. Still, he insists petulantly, “Well, making you feel good makes me feel good too, I just—I want to please you, Al. Can I try to suck your dick properly, at least?”

Al wheezes in shock at the crass words, and it takes a moment for him to recompose himself while Edward cackles to himself. “S—sure,” he chokes out, cheeks flaming but anticipation shining in his eyes. “Just—don’t force yourself if it’s too much, okay? Take it easy…”

With renewed determination, Ed settles back between his brother’s toned thighs, and stares at his cock in deep concentration. Resolutely ignoring the little giggles Al lets out at the sight, Ed decides that maybe, just maybe, it would be better to start slow, instead of garfing it down. He has to remind himself it’s not a challenge, or a bet, and if he’s being objective, it’s not even needed—heats aren’t solved by giving blowjobs, but right now he’s more focused on giving Alphonse pleasure instead of himself.

Slowly, he licks up from the base of the shaft to the tip, making sure to nibble at the head and clean the salty pearl gathered at the slit, staying carefully observant for Alphonse’s reactions. He bites his lip, suddenly trying to contain his noises now that Ed is going for a more methodical approach, and that just won’t do. Ed relaxes his throat as much as he can, and he works the cock inside, leisurely but steadily, inch by inch and centimeter by centimeter. It fills his mouth so fully, so perfectly, that Ed feels like his mouth is a cock sleeve as he sinks further down and down.

When he’s about halfway through, Al’s fingers come to rest on his hair, caressing gently as he murmurs encouraging words under his breath, masked by the little gasps and moans he’s letting out, and that’s what finally gives Ed the push he needs to make it to the finish line. His lips stretch impossibly wide around the base, and inside his clenching throat, Al’s cockhead sits somewhere above his collarbone. Ed tries to breathe through his nose, adjusting to the sensation, and feels his brother’s full-body shiver.

“Fuck.” Alphonse whispers brokenly, and Edward has won.

He squeezes Al’s thighs as he lifts his head off his crotch, Al’s hand keeping him steady as he drags his cock out of his mouth. It’s a miracle he doesn’t end up choking or coughing, considering his lack of experience, and he feels more than a bit prideful as it slides fully out of his mouth. Their eyes meet again, Al’s full of lust and desire, and wordlessly, Ed takes his cock back into his mouth, working it in and out in consistent measures.

He wants to take it further. He wants Al to fuck his mouth, to use the hand cradling his head and shove him roughly onto his cock, over and over until he ruins him him inside and out, but he doesn’t. Instead, Al praises him for taking him so well, for doing such a good job as Ed gives him the best blowjob he can within his limited abilities.

From anyone else, it would seem condescending, like talking down to an Omega for doing what they were meant for, and if he were younger, he’d probably have biten their dick off in response. From Alphonse? It has him shuddering and turning into putty in his hold, leaning against his thighs, and it’s only instinct that drives him back into the rhythm of pleasuring his brother, slickening up further in preparation.

“You’re so beautiful, brother,” Alphonse mutters, carding his fingers through his hair so lovingly. “You’ve always been so gorgeous, everyone would be so jealous if they knew—”

He cuts himself off abruptly, the embarrassment rolling off him in waves, but Ed isn’t going to be satisfied with just that. With a slurp, he pulls the dick off his mouth, and after panting for a moment, looks at his brother piercingly. “If they knew what?” He inquires, staring at his brother, not judgingly, but daring him to finish the sentence with some delight. Al flushes deeper and looks down, stewing in silence for a moment, before he confesses, with a tiny voice, what the full thought was.

“That you’re mine.” He whispers, and Ed preens in satisfaction, because yes, this is right, something tells him from his deeply-buried Omegan instincts. He doesn’t reject the feeling, he welcomes it, and lets out a happy noise, leaning against the hand on his head, nuzzling it against his cheek.

“Yours.” He confirms, happier and more at peace than he’s felt in years. Suddenly, an expression of complete longing crosses Alphonse’s face, looking like he might cry, and Ed grins. Not saying anything else, he goes back to his previous task with renewed vigor, and this time, Al joins him in it.

He doesn’t quite fuck his mouth, but it’s a close thing. The hand on his head holds him firmly, pushing him down on the cock faster, firmer, making sure to help him get him as far in as he can without bruising or hurting him. Ed hollows his cheeks, trying whatever little trick he can remember to make Al feel good, and he’s still not sure about his skill at this, but it doesn’t seem to matter in the slightest. Al bucks his hips slightly against him, moaning openly by now, and Ed feels like he was made for this.

He must look like a mess, and honestly, fuck that, because he is a mess. He’s an utter disaster of a human being only held together by duct tape, books, spite, regrets and far too much attachment to things anyone else should be able to let go of. Edward is all of this, and Alphonse seems to love him all the more for it.

”I’m close, brother,” Alphonse gasps. “What do—”

Ed knows that he’s lost sight of the reason they’re doing this in the first place. Outside of ruts, Alphas usually can only knot once per day. If they do this, he’ll have to find some way to manage without Al’s knot, but it’s fine. Ed wants this. He doesn’t dare take his mouth off of his cock for a second, but he thinks Al gets the idea by the way he goes faster, tightening his throat around him, goading him into spilling in his mouth. Al’s hand squeezes around his hair, and Ed moans shamelessly at the feeling.

Al shudders violently. “B—brother!” Ed chokes as suddenly, the steadily swelling knot reaches its full size at exactly the same time as Ed thrusts his head down, bumping against his lips and pushing past them, locking them in, and he chokes as the fat cock twitches in his mouth, immediately filling his stomach with scalding hot cum. He grips his brother’s thighs like a lifeline, and to his credit, he doesn’t react to the bite of his automail.

Edward isn’t so lucky to keep his composure. He gurgles slightly, because the release is slimy and salty, and it seems endless. He’s not prepared for the logistical complexities of swallowing your Alpha brother’s cum, and there’s a horrible moment where he feels like it’s gonna overflow out of his mouth, but it doesn’t. Instead, it slowly trickles out as Ed desperately tries to breathe through his nose, coached by Al’s murmured praises and sweet nothings, the satisfied tinge to his scent making Ed relax enough to the point Al can softly tug him off his knot, purring involuntarily once he’s free.

A bit of cum trickles out the corner of his mouth, and in this dazed state, Ed can see just how absolutely awestruck Al looks. He’s looking at Ed as if he’s never seen him, or at least, is seeing a side of him that he’d never truly considered. His wide gray eyes roam over Ed’s flushed face, painted a pink-red that’s traveled down his bare chest, and coming to rest squarely on the wetness soaking between his thighs.

Al’s pupils have dilated so much that they’re almost black, but there’s something questioning in his gaze that Ed can’t recognize. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches to wipe at the bit of release still on his chin. Ed’s sure that he intends to wipe it off or clean it somehow, and something inside him screams at that, so after his thumb brushes at it, he catches it with his lips, Al’s breath hitching as he sucks it insistently, making sure to keep daring eye contact as he licks it with his tongue. It’s not his favorite taste, but for Al, he’d do this and more. He can be a whore for his Alpha.

With his jaw having dropped a bit, Al retracts his finger, swallowing hard, and Ed gives him a bit of a woozy smile—the like you’d never find on him sober. Al giggles slightly at the sight, and Ed smirks. He looks down automatically, at the sweat matting Al’s skin, once again admiring the lean muscle on his body, and then, what’s sure to be his softening cock—

Edward gapes, suddenly jolting from his daze. It’s not throbbing as blatantly now, yes, and his knot has deflated, but it’s still erect and hard, somehow, despite having just knotted his mouth and filling his stomach with cum. His orgasm didn’t seem to be underwhelming, and Ed’s head game can’t be that bad, so what gives? He feels utterly baffled, and his brother suddenly seems embarrassed. It’s not the most impossible thing in the world, but did his heat have that big an effect on Al?

“How—” he begins, until suddenly, it hits him—something tangy spiking in Al’s usually soothing scent. His mouth clamps shut. A rut. Of course.

“I think my rut came early…” Alphonse says sheepishly, and Ed huffs in amusement. Did it come early, or did Ed’s heat push him into rut? It hasn’t in times past, but considering what they’re doing, it’s different this time. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter—it’s so early in his rut that he still has his wits about him, just like Ed, and even when they eventually get consumed by utter need, he knows his brother will not hurt him.

Still, he shivers in anticipation for what’s to come.

“So…” Ed begins, coughing and suddenly embarrassed to meet Al’s gaze, tugging on the pants that he’s still wearing for some reason. “I guess it’s time for the main show?”

Al helps him take off his trousers, tossing them to the useless pile beside the bed and lets Edward clamber on top of him, straddling his lap. For a moment, he’s unsure of how to proceed, even though this isn’t the first time he’s done this. His heart clenches slightly at the reminder, and as if reading his thoughts, Alphonse looks at him for a moment in silence. He’s searching him, Ed notices, questions at the tip of his tongue, with a knowing apprehensiveness in his gaze.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Alphonse asks quietly, “With him?”

Ed’s eyes widen, and then, he lowers them in shame. Him, of course, referring to his late counterpart. After passing through the Gate, and after the funeral, Al very rarely referred to Alfons by his name, opting instead to only call him as he or him. Ed never questioned it—just talking about Alfons was painful—but he’d assumed it was because it tripped him up to refer to a different-world version of himself by a nearly-identical name.

In the years since, in the frown Al has always had whenever Alfons crept into the conversation, as he’d come to piece together just who, exactly, he had been to Edward—at least physically—he’s realized that maybe there’s more to it than that. He can’t lie to his brother, so he simply hangs his head, and nods sharply.

Alphonse exhales, but he doesn’t lose his mind. He doesn’t reproach or shame him, he doesn’t throw Ed over his shoulder and ruin him beyond repair, he simply breathes evenly for a few seconds, and cups Edward’s cheeks.

“I’m not happy about it,” Alphonse mutters, “but I’m also glad you had someone. I wish I could’ve taken care of you like he did.”

Ed gulps. He will never not regret what he did to Alfons, and what he didn’t do. While at first it was nearly impossible, he eventually did start separating Alfons from Alphonse in his mind—in his little mannerisms, his appearance, what he meant to him. His brother would always come first, but near the end, when he’d fully seen Alfons for who he was and had confirmed Alphonse was safe and sane, then, he realizes—he could have accepted a life with him. It was just poor timing that everything happened when it did, and that Ed couldn’t stop it.

He thinks that he could have, should have stopped Alfons from leaving that night, but if he did, he wouldn’t have gotten his brother back. Was it the price to pay? Losing his life for Ed’s sake? To make way for Al’s residence in this universe? Ed frowns sadly at the thought. Maybe in another world, in a different life, he wouldn’t have broken his heart and unintentionally left him for dead—hell, maybe if the world had been tilted a bit to the right or he’d been a bit faster, he could have had both Alphonse and Alfons, even if it’s a guilty pipe dream that never would have come true. Life isn’t equivalent like that.

However, he can’t stay stuck in the past. Alfons’ life was his own, and he chose to give it to Edward. If, or when they meet again, he’ll be able to thank him, apologize, and do whatever comes closest to making it up to him in the afterlife, but remaining hung up and unfacing of the outside world would be discarding that sacrifice. Part of Edward will carry Alfons to the grave, but in his mind’s eye, he can perfectly picture the boy’s rueful smile and ultimate permission to move on to his happiness. So, once and for all, he lets Alfons Heiderich go, and gives a watery smile to his brother, his world, Alphonse Elric.

“You can, now.” He says, and Alphonse’s responding grin is blinding.

Ed’s lips are drawn to Al’s instinctively, naturally. Alphonse meets him halfway, hugging his body to him, moaning happily into the kiss. For a moment, all he does is enjoy the feeling, grinding onto him ever so slightly, letting his brother’s cock catch on his nether lips, but not sinking down yet. Al whines in response.

“Brother,” he breaks off the kiss, pouting. “Stop teasing me.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ed laughs, pecking him again on the lips. “I can’t help it.”

Al huffs in disbelief. Still, now that the actual act is upon them, and that they’re quite literally on the same wavelength, heat and rut linked hand in hand, he seems to hesitate. There’s no doubt in Ed’s mind that he still wants this, but now, seeing him suddenly falter, bare naked and flushed underneath him, it strikes him just how inexperienced he is. Ed is his first—and hopefully only—he needs to maintain some sense of composure and lead him through it. It’s his responsibility, and more than that, he just wants to be good for Al.

He gives his little brother what he hopes is a reassuring look, and tries to send some soothing pheromones through his scent, even though Edward as a person is anything but. It seems to work, though, at least somewhat, and a timid smile appears on Al’s face. Ed gives a reassuring grin, and presses their foreheads together. “I’m putting it in now, okay?” He breathes, and Alphonse shivers pleasantly.

“That should be my line…” He whispers, but finally nods.

With a deep breath, Ed hitches his hips up, moving to hover directly above Al’s cock. There’s a split-second—or maybe a full second—of hesitation, where he pauses to savor the moment. The before and after. Then, he’s sinking down, feeling his cunt stretch impossibly around Al’s cock as he goes, further and further, until he’s settled snugly inside, his pussy lips stretched around the deflated knot.

Ed shudders deeply. He feels so incredibly full, completely whole in a way he has never felt. He can feel the tip of his head kiss his cervix, and the sensation has him clutching Al’s shoulders in a death grip around his arms, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Al’s face is scrunched up, canting his hips so he’s as deeply inside Ed as he could be, but he’s clenching his hands, holding them tightly at his sides while he grits his teeth. Ed huffs fondly; is he hesitant to touch him, now that they’re in the actual act and Ed is taking charge?

“You can touch me, Al.” He breathes, and it’s all the permission his brother needs. Immediately, his hands come to map his skin, running hungrily over his torso and back, feeling everywhere he had never been able to reach for years. Al buries his head in the crook of Edward’s neck, inhaling his scent as Ed grinds slightly against his cock, gasping softly. He wants to sit in the moment for just a bit longer, and he wonders if he even has the capability of taking things somewhat easy after everything that’s happened, but then, his brother speaks.

“Are you going to move, brother?” He smirks against his shoulder, and Ed growls as he raises his hips and slams down harshly, drawing a moan from both of them.

Honestly, he’s also pretty inexperienced with this particular thing. Not sex, but just the act of riding his partner. Still, he fakes it through. His thrusts are awkward but firm, and Al holds him through, meeting his thrusts as best he can. The slap of their skin echoes in the room, but their moans are louder, and Al keeps kissing everywhere he can reach—his face, his lips, the scent gland on his neck. Maybe it’s the intimate intensity of the situation making him hyperaware, but Ed swears he can feel just a bit of teeth grazing at the gland, and he keens.

Ed’s little cocklet is as hard as can be, and he and Al are so close to each other that it’s caught between their stomachs. The friction feels like heavenly hell, and Ed can’t help but buck up into the touch with a loud moan that his brother gladly drinks up with a kiss. Fuck, maybe Ed should really just own the fact that he’s a noisy fuck during his heat—or sex in general. Al doesn’t seem like he minds, at all.

He looks at all of Ed, eyes exploring his flushed form, and licking his lips, Al flicks at the little nubs on his chest. Ed doesn’t even bother hiding his moans, leaning into the touch, feeling the hot-wet sensations it sends down to his cunt. “I wonder,” Alphonse muses, thumbing at his chest teasingly, “do you think these could fill with milk?”

Edward fucking loses it. He bucks against Al’s cock, the mental image making him feel flustered and humiliated and hot, incapable of doing anything but work for his brother’s knot. Alphonse laughs openly, the asshole, and he has the audacity to grip Ed’s hips, stopping his frantic thrusts. Ed whines, and it has to be the heat getting to him at this point, but whether Al realizes it or not, it doesn’t really matter. He scents him again indulgently, kissing everywhere he can reach in his neck, up to his jaw and the corner of his lips.

He clings to Alphonse’s shoulders for dear life, whimpering into his neck as he sets the pace of their thrusts. It’s not the frantic, rough thrusts that Ed was so used to whenever he tried to pleasure himself, but a rhythmic, steady, filthy grind of his cock inside his sopping cunt, as his brother helps Ed bounce on it. For all his inexperience, Alphonse caught the gist of it fast enough, and the reality of the situation makes Edward feel like he’s burning up from the inside.

It’s in this space that Al’s fingers trickle down Edward’s spine. With the free hand that isn’t occupied holding Ed’s hip, he travels between his shoulders down his back, and wantonly squeezes one of his round asscheeks. Ed gasps in surprise and arches into the touch, the action somehow driving Al’s cock in even deeper, but he outright squeaks when Alphonse smears his finger with the slick soaking the place where they’re joined, and prods at the little puckered hole between his cheeks.

“Al!” Ed chokes at the foreign intrusion. It’s not that he’s never played with himself back there, but it’s different feeling someone else touch that hole, much less his little brother. Then again, he was never the only curious boy in the household. Alphonse shushes him, and pecks him again on the lips.

“Let me take care of you, brother.” He repeats soothingly, and Ed gulps. Swallowing down any nervousness, he decides to give in to the sensation. Alphonse circles his finger around his perineum, and Ed can’t help but shiver at the slimy feeling of his own slick on the tight pucker. Finally, the tip sinks in down to the first knuckle—Ed has to bite down on Al’s shoulder, and if he even notices it, he gives no indication as he continues his exploration of Edward’s ass, continuing to sink more of his finger gently and watching out for Ed’s comfort.

Meanwhile, he doesn’t cease his thrusting. He’s careful so as to not hurt Ed, but Al still keeps a firm grip on his hip, making sure he’s still bouncing on his cock, and the sensation on both his cunt and ass is almost too much to handle. Al’s strength is deceiving, because despite the height disparity, Ed is in no way light, yet his little brother doesn’t seem to be struggling to handle him in any way, even with his lean form. The action has Edward mewling, something that he couldn’t remember doing in years, but—it doesn’t bother him, not with Al.

And yet he realizes, as his heat starts to rear its ugly head, it’s not enough. Alphonse seems to realize this, and maybe that’s because it’s not enough for him either, not with his rut starting to kick into gear. Maybe that’s why he does what he does next.

With the pad of his finger still teasing at his hole, Al squeezes Ed’s asscheek and tightens his grip on his hip. Ed’s eyes boggle as his little brother manhandles him, shifting their positions almost effortlessly and turning them over so Edward is laying on his back, and Alphonse is leaning over him, settled perfectly between his legs with his dark blonde hair splayed just past his shoulders, a strange sort of halo around his head from the fluorescent light above and the setting sun behind the windows.

The image is almost ethereal, dreamlike filtering through the haze threatening to overtake his mind, but he’s kept grounded in reality thanks to their position. With the new angle, Alphonse reaches much, much deeper—parts of him that he never thought he could reach. It’s like every little corner of his cunt is filled with cock, and for a moment Ed is genuinely afraid Al will be able to reach past his cervix and fuck his womb open, no matter the impossibility of it. And the thing is, as his pussy grows even wetter from arousal and heat, it’s not even fear he feels, it’s want.

Ed’s brother is beautiful, wonderful, perfection incarnate. He would never treat him in any way that he’d see as disrespectful or denigrating—barring the usual daily annoyances—but Edward wants him to. He wants Alphonse to use him as a cocksleeve and cockwarmer, he wants to be his little brother’s live-in pussy, he wants to be bred day in and out and used and hurt and spoiled rotten after, because he knows that his brother is incapable of hurting him. His little Omega hindbrain that he’d always tried so hard to repress wants to cry—why had he fought this so much?

With these frantic thoughts running through his mind, Al’s finger reaches to the little bundle of nerves inside him, and just like that, he’s seizing up with a shout, eyes screwing shut as his limbs clamp around Alphonse, crossing his legs just above his buttocks and pressing his swollen pussy lips against the still-forming base of his knot, gushing wet around him and out of his cocklet.

God, he hasn’t even been knotted yet.

“Brother?” Alphonse breathes, sounding very far away, simultaneously shocked and awed. “Did you—”

Edward growls. He’s never been knotted, he realizes. Aside from his mouth a few minutes ago, he’s never had his slick pussy knotted and properly bred like it should. This is his first time in that sense, and he doesn’t know if Alphonse knows that, but he’ll be damned if they stop just before getting to the good stuff.

“Keep going.” Ed hisses through gritted teeth, rolling his hips back against him. His brother’s eyes are nearly black by now, and with a look of pure hunger, he obliges, drawing his slick-wet cock back and then slamming back in to the hilt, punching an embarrassing moan out of Edward.

He holds nothing back, not anymore. With Ed’s permission and goading, Alphonse pounds into him with a snarl, driving his cock into his pussy over and over again with wet noises that make the tips of his ears turn red. Their hips meet each other in unison thrusts, Ed doesn’t untangle his legs, and he’s sure that his automail will leave indentured marks across his brother’s back with how tight he’s clinging with his arms, but Al doesn’t care.

“Brother, brother, Ed—” He keeps panting out Ed’s name, and it sounds different in this situation. It sounds filthy, but also a bit like a prayer, like something that will disappear if he looks away. Of course, of course, because Edward, no matter how strong a front he had tried to put up, had been in the exact same situation. Every day he wakes up with the split-second visceral fear that everything had been a dream and he would find himself back in that tiny apartment in Munich. How must Al feel, how insecure and afraid?

He runs his flesh finger down the side of his brother’s face, filled with the need to reassure him. Alphonse leans into the touch with a little sniffle, and Ed’s eyes widen in surprise at the tears gathered on his scrunched up eyes. Had he telegraphed his thoughts so obviously through his scent? It wasn’t common, but not impossible—especially not during a heat and rut, when their senses are in such overdrive. Edward makes a little chirp, a ridiculous sound born from instinct meant to soothe upset mates, and nuzzles against his scent gland again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Al.” He mutters right into his ear, and he feels him tremble violently against him with a choked-off sob. Suddenly smashing their lips together again, Ed groans into the kiss as Alphonse thrusts back into him. He licks his way inside Ed’s mouth, and he gladly tangles his tongue with his brother’s.

Al retracts his finger from Ed’s ass, and he hisses at the sudden removal, but then he’s snaking his hand across his body, caressing his skin, worshipping it with the bare touch he’d been denied for so long, and Ed chases the touch with a higher moan as his brother pinches at a pink, pebbled nipple, squeezing it as if he’d be able to draw milk from it. He whines at the treatment, but his brother smiles at him apologetically.

“I love you, brother.” Alphonse whispers suddenly, wonder in his starry eyes, and Ed’s breath is taken away with the contrast between the loving sentiment and the filthy grind of his cock against his cunt. He curses, and he thinks he returns the sentiment vocally, but it probably gets lost along the way in the mess of needy, heat-stricken Omega that he is right now. Coherent thought is nearly out the window, setting in his mind like the sun outside their little house, and it’s here that he decides that he wants more, that he wants to take care of his little Alpha brother again.

Suddenly filled with a sort of manic desire, Edward starts pushing at Alphonse’s shoulders, and heat or no heat, his grip is strong. By itself it might not have moved him, but Al is surprised at Ed’s sudden vigorousness, and doesn’t fight back as he starts bucking and kicking against him, and after rolling until Ed’s back on top of him, lets himself be moved back into a semi-sitting position again.

It’s lower this time, upper back propped up on the small nest, but he can see everything. Edward’s heaving chest, as sweat rolls down his glistening skin, the wet once-golden hair matted against his face, his legs spread on both sides of his hips and how deeply buried inside his gushing cunt his cock is. It twitches with interest, and maybe Ed has lost it, but if he looks down just right, he swears he can see a tiny bump on his lower stomach. The images it conjures makes him moan, and the experimental roll he does instinctively makes Alphonse groan in pleasure under him.

Ed expects Al to grasp his hips again and bounce him on his lap like a toy, but he doesn’t. He wraps one hand around Edward’s waist, rubbing gently with his thumb as he grasps his hand with the other, squeezing with a smile as he lets Ed set the pace. He bites his lip, feeling like he’s burning from something other than his heat as he slowly starts building up the pace, lifting off his brother’s cock until only the tip remains inside, and firmly but steadily dropping down, drawing a moan out of both of them at the sensation.

He loses all semblance of composure over the next few minutes, desperately working his hips to drive the fat cock in and out of his pussy. God, he feels every bit the wanton Omega that he really is. The end is near—or at least, the end of this wave, and with it, the sealing and beginning of this new chapter of their relationship, their lives. By this point, he’s chasing not just his own climax, but Alphonse’s. He’s already cum inside his mouth, but it’s not enough, and it will never be enough. He wants to feel him everywhere, but most of all, he wants to feel it in his cunt, deep as it can go in his womb.

Suddenly, it hits him—he wants his own brother to breed him. And of course, there’s a lot to acknowledge with the reality of it, not just the act itself, but what’s there to think about? Right now, all he can think about is—how beautiful would it be to do the exact opposite that his father did? How wonderful would it be, to bring a life into this world that they made without any misplaced alchemy? To create it with all they have in this world—themselves?

He doesn’t know if Alphonse wants the same, not with all the complications it would bring, even in this world. He can’t tell if it’s an idea that crosses his mind, but fuck, the very thought has Edward arching his back, clenching down on Al’s cock as he claws at his shoulder, drawing a hiss out of him. Ed drops his torso down, so they’re chest to chest, and lays soothing kisses over the red trail he left like a lover, grinding once again on his cock as he does so.

And in a sudden moment of heat-drunk lucidity, Ed muses back on what their relationship even is. Technically, they’re supposed to be lovers now, but that’s also wrong. Calling what they have love and more than is accurate, and it’s always been, but being lovers is not, because that implies some degree of temporality. No matter the commitment between lovers, boyfriends, girlfriends and spouses, there is always the chance of breaking it off, of something fizzling out like the dying spark of a misplaced fuse.

Alphonse is not his lover, because Edward could never imagine being apart from him, in any way. He knows he doesn’t, either, because if he did, he would never have gone to the impossible lengths he did to get him back and immigrate to an entirely different world—just so they could be together. And Edward did the same. They’re on the same wavelength, the same little corner of the third and fourth dimension, they’re inseparable, a pair. It was them against the whole world, and now it’s them in the whole world.

Their eyes meet, honey-gold against gray encased by a gorgeous flush, and then and there, Edward makes his decision. Wordlessly, he tilts his head, exposing the unscarred scent gland on his neck, and Alphonse sucks in a harsh breath.

“Brother—” He gasps, disbelieving and devastated and hopeful.

“Do it.” Ed challenges, except it’s not really much of a challenge, is it? It’s a request, an ask for confirmation of what he already knew he wanted, because how could he trust anyone else with this? From birth, to death, to birth again, it was always Al. Alphonse, his world, the reason he kept going despite that sin all those years ago. Even in Munich, when he was on the verge of wondering if Amestris was nothing but the vivid dream of an ailing mind.

Maybe, just like the Earth, Ed was born to revolve around the sun. Right here, right now, there is no one, had never been and never will be anyone but Al who he could give so much of his being to, with no regrets.

Releasing a keen, Alphonse leans forward, latching his teeth around the gland. Ed shudders violently as his world turns bone-white, muffling his scream with his hand as his cunt clenches around Alphonse's cock and his nearly-formed knot, forced to climax once more at the sudden hormonal changes. His orgasm gushes around his length and out of his cocklet, while red-golden warmth spreads from his gland and envelops the entirety of his body.

It’s a strange feeling, being mated. He’s heard that it’s common to bleed from the mark right after, but—he doesn’t. Maybe Al was just that careful, but all he feels is a pleasant sting that his new brother-mate laps at. As the bite settles in, his senses feel sharper, more attuned to something that he can’t quite name yet. There’s a light buzzing in his head and his body, along with something that feels like a protective blanket. He feels like he was the product of an incomplete transmutation and the bite completed him. Edward feels whole, and that, more than anything, is what causes him to tear up and look at his brother.

Alphonse hasn’t climaxed yet, he’s at the tipping point, but his face is a more distressed mirror of Ed’s. Before he can ask what’s wrong, he notices Al’s lips trembling, and watches as he brings a shaking hand to brush his hair aside, exposing his unscarred, unblemished scent gland.

“Please…” He whispers, something desperate and begging deep in his voice that pulls at Ed’s heart, and reveals so much. Because Ed realizes, those years they spent apart is a scar that will never truly heal, but what must truly be weighing on Al’s mind right now is—all those times he’s rejected him in the name of his own good.

How terrified must Alphonse be of Edward up and disappearing again, like he did all those years ago? If he bit him but didn’t let him do it back, if he suddenly decides it was a mistake and leaves him with half a bond, then the hurt and pain might very well kill his brother. How could he live with himself if?

But Edward has changed with the passing of the seasons in this new world, and he would never do that. Not anymore, not when he’s all in and he knows it, deep in his soul, that even if there were anyone else, he would still choose Al.

He leans forward, baring his teeth and biting down on the gland. Immediately, Alphonse gasps and bites off a shout as his knot pops inside him, sealing them together and climaxing just as Ed had. Instantly, his insides are flooded with his release. Hot and thick, thicker than any he’d ever felt, filling him up so completely, up to his cervix and beyond, settling in his womb, just as he wished. Edward moans, and another orgasm sneaks up on him at the fulfilling, pleasantly heavy sensation deep in his belly, cumming around Al’s cock.

It’s then that he notices the coppery tang feel of blood on his mouth. Concern shoots up in him, but instinct takes hold first. Dutifully, he starts licking it clean. Alphonse jerks under him, pressing against his cervix and trying to pull back, but to no avail thanks to the knot. He smacks him slightly on the side, trying to soothe him with a deep purr as he laps at the mild wound. It’s what his nature demands, he needs to take care of his mate.

Eventually, the bite stops bleeding. When it does, he leans back a bit, and looks into Alphonse’s eyes. Ed’s vision is crystal clear around him and hyperfocused, likely a side-effect of the mating bond. His brother looks awed and in shock, gray eyes wide and disbelieving. Edward understands, this whole situation feels surreal, but it’s not a dream, and he’s not afraid of waking up anymore. A bit hysterically, he chuckles, and grins at Alphonse.

For a second, it looks like he’s torn between laughing along and crying, but then, his eyes notice something and they zero in on the corner of his mouth, where a little spot of blood remains. His eyes flit between Ed’s and the smear, and then he leans in, licking at his mouth and his own blood, finishing the cleanup job. Ed shivers, and immediately draws him in on a kiss, swallowing his moan and grinding on the knot.

With a shuddering breath, they part. Ed grasps Al’s head in his hands and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes, feeling the moment tenderly just for a bit, Al’s breath hitching, and finally, he whispers.

“Yours,” Edward vows, and Alphonse freezes. “Always.”

His little brother seems on the verge of hyperventilating for a minute, and then, with a cry, he tackles Ed in a hug, unheeding of the automail or the knot connecting them together, and they both fall on the bed in a heap of limbs, Edward with a joyful laugh and Alphonse in tears.

“Thank you,” he sobs, hugging him as tight as can be, “thank you thank you thank you, for being mine. Don’t leave me, please.”

The very idea has his Omega crying out in displeasure. He would never, not physically or emotionally, even if the bond won’t let him now. This is what he chose, and he’s not going to walk it back.

“Never.” He hisses, a solemn vow in his tone. Al seems to understand it loud and clear, and he squeezes him again, continuing to sniffle into his shoulder. Edward shushes and soothes him, rubbing his flesh arm over his bare skin, and lets time drift them by.

The minutes tick by, and the sun sets behind the window, leaving them in near-darkness. Al’s knot won’t go down for another while, and then, they’ll need to recharge and prep for the second wave. Eventually, he stops sniffling, and starts purring right into Ed’s bonding gland, nuzzling slightly against it and drawing a smile out of him.

Still, now that he sees an entirely new lifetime stretching into infinity, Ed can’t help but muse and wonder, letting his mind wander as it so often does in these moments of quiet, when he doesn’t have an immediate goal to achieve.

Alphonse’s body is the last thing he created using alchemy. Under the archaic opera house lights, he’d given up his life’s work so his little brother could have a chance to live, and it worked. He’s standing here right before him, body hand-sculpted so perfectly and working beyond either of their wildest dreams, given a new childhood by Ed’s hand.

For so long, he’d hoped to restore his body to the way it was before their mom’s transmutation, and it’s driven him insane since meeting him again that he doesn’t know if this body is what he’d been destined to have all along, or if it’s a recreation from Ed’s imagination. The five years were taken by force of Equivalent Exchange, so did alchemy build his body for him, or did Ed build it himself under the belief it was alchemy restoring it?

As these thoughts run through his mind, Al shifts above him. Ed looks at him, moving slightly. His knot is probably about to deflate, but instead of saying anything about it, his brother simply sends a blinding grin at him, joyful and full of wonder and pride and everything he can’t name, and kisses him again.

It’s a normal, innocuous thing, but it feels like the last key that unlocks the final puzzle in his brain.

Ultimately, finally, he realizes after years of hand-wringing and wondering, that it doesn’t matter. Al is finally happy with how he is, with who he is and who he’s with, and Al’s happiness is his own. How could he not feel so proud of his little brother, when he’s so perfect and his? How could he feel ashamed when he is Edward’s final and greatest creation?

Welcome to the rest of your life, Ed thinks as he caresses Al in utter worship.

In this little moment of bliss, something tugs at his mind. After a moment, he remembers and swallows. Al notices and tilts his head curiously. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and it’s not that Ed is afraid, he just… He doesn’t wanna ruin it. Not this. Licking his lips, he starts.

“Al…” Edward mutters, “I’m not on any birth control.”

Of course he’s not. How could he be, in this world?

Alphonse stiffens, and Ed with him, in anxious anticipation of his response.

“Oh,” he whispers, and slowly, seems to light up from within. “Oh.”

Gently, he caresses Ed’s stomach, settling his head on the crook of his neck and humming a tune that he vaguely recognizes as something their mother used to sing to them as children, and just like that, he relaxes.

His hand comes to join Al’s, and squeezes as he dozes off. Yeah, this is fine.

More than, it’s perfect.