Poor Little Fool

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, just any OC's I've created for this story

Summary: Hampden Welles, England, 1934. Edward and Alphonse are professors of physics, and chemistry, respectively at Hampden Welles College. Edward is feared and hated by his students, loved by his brother, and desired by Claire Travers, an abandoned and betrayed wife. Alphonse is liked - if regarded warily - by his students, and he is loved by Sally Armstrong, daughter of the local squire, Arthur (not an alter for Major Armstrong). Alphonse and Sally are engaged to be married, but Edward is risking it all by embarking on an affair with Claire.

Warning: S-E-X here. Plus descriptions of "naughty bits", and mild bondage.
Beta: Serenanna, who gave me lots of useful advice. Such as men (even fictional ones like Edward Elric) cannot take half an hour of foreplay without "popping."

Chapter Three: Velvet And Lace

Edward lay back on Claire's bed and for the hundredth time growled in frustration. She was driving him crazy, utterly stark and barking mad with her little teasing game, which had already been going on for ten minutes. Once it was his turn, he was going to play a game of his own with her - and he wasn't going to be quite so nice. Meanwhile, her warm soft lips played over his nipples, her white (he had seen her smile, he knew her small, perfectly straight teeth were whiter than new snow) teeth gently nipped his left one, before her hot tongue licked the nibbled area, and Edward whimpered deep in his throat. A whimper he immediately tried to change into another growl when she giggled.

Claire moved lower, and breathed over his flat stomach, making his muscles jump, and his skin prickle. Her hands caressed the cramping muscles, and he groaned again. Mostly because the tightness in his groin was becoming unbearable, surely Claire couldn't miss the prominent bulge in his pants. She hadn't missed it,and she cruelly sat her silk-clad bottom right on it.

The heat from her crotch zinged straight to his and drove his libido closer to the edge. Edward clenched his teeth and pulled on his bonds before he arched his back, and thrashed with discomfort. Claire squealed with delight, like a little girl who'd just gotten a new doll, except this "doll" would be able to do more - a lot more.

She just wanted to have some fun, but she didn't want to make the poor boy suffer with desire, so it was time to up the ante. Slowly, very slowly, agonizingly slowly, Claire undid his belt buckle, unzipped his pants, and pushed them down to his ankles.

"Oh my! You're a boxer type of man!" she breathed. The blue material was tented, about stretched to it's limit by his erection and Claire had to swallow a sudden surge of saliva before she started drooling on him. She gently dug her fingers underneath the elastic waistband and pulled them down to join the pants bunched at his ankles.

Now Claire was drooling, it was a good thing she had convinced him to wear her lace sleep mask over his eyes so he couldn't see her like this. For such a slight man, Edward was well endowed enough he could hold his own in any Turkish bath. She held her breath and slowly ran a finger up the sensitve underside of the shaft, and the penis showed it's gratitude for freedom by swelling and lengthening a little more. Claire felt dizzy for a moment, she saw spots before her eyes. She felt like she would faint, until she remembered she was still holding her breath. She huffed out the used up air, and took in a deep breath,to make the spots and the faint feeling bleed away.


She bent over him, and her pink tongue flicked out to caress the head, like the soft touch of a butterfly's wings. Edward's breath hitched. Claire smiled at his reaction, his face was flushed cherry red and it was wet with sweat, as was his chest and stomach. Her tongue licked him again, and tasted salt. A milky looking liquid was ozzing out of the tip, so she licked more of it off before she sent her tongue swirling down his length to the balls. Edward groaned loudly, and his breath came in ever quicker pants. Claire didn't need to breathe deeply to pick up the scent of male arousal. She was getting rather excited too, and she wondered if he could tell.
___________________________________________________________________________

Edward was being such a good sport about this. Sam had never wanted to play little games like this, he was the traditional male. Sam preferred his sex the same way every time, lay stiff as a board next to her until his dick was only half flaccid, then he would roll over on top of her before roughly spreading her legs and forcing his turgid flesh inside.

She usually wasn't ready, and it hurt, oh god did it hurt! And Sam liked it that way, the friction felt very good to him, even if his entry felt like a thick truncheon wrapped in coarse grit sandpaper was being shoved up inside her. The few times she tried to "prepare" herself, Sam noticed the wetness and he flew into a petulant huff.

Good wives see sex and the procreation of children as a duty to their husbands whom God has ordained as their master! They aren't supposed to enjoy sex, because only depraved women do so! Are you a depraved woman, Claire? Are you a slut? A whore of Babylon?

Because of Sam's reaction to an innocent little thing as lubrication, Claire never dared mention any sexual positions besides the Biblically approved one, much less the mild bondage she fantasized about.

Five minutes in the missionary position nearly every night, except Sundays - Sam thought sex on "the Lord's Day" as immoral, akin to beastiality. He would thrust away, grunting and sweating for five minutes, before he uttered a high-pitched cry, which sounded unnervingly like a bleating sheep before he collapsed on top of her. Through all this, Claire was expected to lie still, no moving her hands nor hips. She couldn't make a sound either, no moans nor groans, no signs of pleasure whatsoever. But she couldn't help grunting when he flopped his weight on top of her.As Sam aged he became heavier, and his landings would force all the air out of her lungs, and she couldn't breathe except in small pants.

Sam would lie there and groan until he was entirely flaccid again, before he rolled off and to the side, his back to her. He immediately fell asleep, snoring - loudly, and in his sleep, he would invariably release one loud whistle of a post-orgasmic fart. Claire would just be getting her breathing back to normal when the smell hit her, and she would be obliged to climb out of bed and retreat to the couch in her dressing room for some sleep. From the vantage point of thirteen years on, she had forgotten what made her love this man. Now she had found out for how long he had betrayed her and their wedding vows, she was beginning to hate him.
___________________________________________________________________________

Edward's loud "OW!" shook Claire out her woolgathering. She had him in her right hand, stroking up and down while her thumb was gently rubbing the sensitive underside, and apparently, she'd been pressing down a little too hard.

"Sorry, my dear, shan't happen again." Edward growled again, and Claire moved to the last act, lowering her head and taking him into her mouth. It was another fantasy of hers, to suck and lick, and taste a man's release. Sam would never have countenanced it.

"Geh!" was Edward's throttled reply, as he pulled hard on the velvet cuffs, the veins of his left arm standing out because he was making tight fists. He shuddered and his back arched again as he attempted to push harder against what was causing such a delightful sensation. Edward's nerves were thrumming at a high pitch, and he was nearing his limit of endurance. To his embarassment, a whine broke from his lips when he felt her tongue dancing around on a particularly sensitive spot. Althoughut he couldn't have exactly placed where, because every inch of him down there had become acutely responsive.

His hips bucked once more just before Edward's whole body convulsed and he screamed out a deep pitched howl of completion. Claire pulled her head back slightly, and she swallowed the warm, thick spurts as fast as they came, her lips milking him dry until he was spent.

He tastes sweet.

She finally sat up again, licked her lips, and regarded Edward.

God, he's beautiful!

Edward was whippet-thin, there was hardly an ounce of extra fat on him, and there wasonly a few sparse blonde hairs on his chest, which was heaving up and down like a stormy sea. His mouth, his lovely mouth gaped open as he panted, his tongue flicked out once to lick dry and slightly reddened lips. His entire body, from forehead to legs was gilded shiny with sweat, even the curly hairs above his manhood, and on his balls were darkened with moisture.

Time to reward him.

After tying the cuffs around his wrists, Claire had kissed him, but only light busses, with the briefest of tongue contacts. Edward had growled whenever she pulled away, and he would raise his head, as if blindly seeking her velvety mouth. Claire shuffled back up to his lower abdomen, before she began licking her way, with light tongue flicks, up his body, and Edward moaned "NO!" deeply. His senses were overstimulated, and he needed a little rest before doing this again.

"Claire!" he protested when she reached his neck and began her little "nip and lick" up to his earlobes again. The moan turned into a growl, but she stopped it simply by recapturing his lips in a kiss, her tongue flicking past his to explore his mouth. Before the kiss became too deep, she walked her fingers up his arms to his wrists, and with a twist, flicked loose the knots which held the cuffs closed.

She never felt his hands slide into her hair, pulling out the pins and tossing them aside. She couldn't have pulled back from the kiss, even if she had wanted to, because one hand was splayed over the back of her neck and holding her close. His other hand must have pulled off the sleep mask, because when she opened her eyes, he was looking back at her with fire burning in the gold, along with his tousled blond hair he looked a bit like a lion. She wanted to ask him a question, but neither his hand nor his lips would let go, so she had to think it and hope he received the message telepathically.

Shall I call you Leo the Lion?

Apparently so. Edward growled again, then curled his right leg about her body and Claire gasped as she was flipped over on her back with practiced ease. Now it was his turn to tease, and Edward set right to work. He broke the kiss, then gently nipped her lips, and followed it with a soft sweep of the tip of his tongue. Her ears, especially the sensitive lobes, the sides of her neck, and her throat got the same treatment, and Claire gasped in pleasure each time. Edward waited until he got lower on the white column of her throat before he put a little more heat into his nips and actually bit her there. Any resulting red marks would be covered by the necklines of her dresses.

The round globe of her left breast filled his mouth and he made Claire whine with delight when his tongue swirled around it's mass, and thoroughly explored both it and the nipple. His mouth broke contact with a loud smack, before burying itself in the valley between her breasts, tongue flicking, and his nose snuffling deeply. Claire's scent filled his nostrils - a mixture of perfume, sweat, and soap, all underlain with one intoxicating note he couldn't quite identify. He pulled back brieflyand smiled down at her. Claire's eyes were shut, she was sweating, panting, moaning, her hands convulsively kneading the sheets. And there was that odd scent again, he took a deep breath through his mouth, as if to taste it.

After Edward cupped a breast in each hand, he massaged each one, gently at first, tweaking the nipples with his thumbs. He gradually got a little rougher, kneading the flesh, and squeezing the nipples. He couldn't feel how much pressure he was using with his right hand of metal, so he watched her face for clues, ready to back off if she showed signs he was hurting her. Claire's moans were louder, and coming faster, and her chest was becoming flushed, her hands suddenly shot up off the sheets and clamped on either side of his head. She pulled down on him, and whined again when he didn't move.

"Edwarddd! I like that, don't stop!"

He knew what to do, and bent his head back down to her breasts. Edward lightly nipped and licked around their circumfrence, but ignored the reddened and erect nipples until she screamed softly in frustration. He uttered a low chuckle, but still gave in, licking, licking, moving his tongue in ever decreasing circles until his mouth engulfed the left nipple again, before his teeth closed softly over it.

Meanwhile, his left hand moved down and cupped her crotch. The fabric of her silk panties was wet through and very pliable, it threw off a moist heat, plus the scent which had captured his attention grew more powerful by the second.

Her breath hitched and she shuddered when he began to rub that aching spot, Claire whimpered and pushed her hips up. He had planned to be cruel, and make her wait for her release, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do this to her. Instead, he pivoted his hand slightly, and used his thumb and forefinger to pinch and rub what he thought of as her joy button.

That was all Claire needed, she dug her fingers into his hair as her back arched and her vision grayed out. Her cries of orgasm came in short, sharp yelps, which slowly lowered in volume as successive waves passed through her, making her body shudder some more.

That scent which Edward couldn't identify intensified in power, and he took a deep breath and held it briefly before exhaling. Between her moans, Claire managed to say "you sound like an animal", so Edward decided to become an animal. Growling softly, he moved further down her body, nipping her abdomonal skin, his tongue leaving trails of saliva behind where ever he licked the nipped areas. The scent was getting stronger, and it was making him salivate even more, so he gulped hard before he started drooling on her silk panties.

They were in his way, so he pulled them off with one swift yank. And the smell hit him like a slap in the face. It was coming from between her legs, and placing one hand between her knees, he slowly levered them apart until he could put his other hand in and open her wide. The scent was at it's strongest now, he could almost see the waves of it emanating from her secret spot of delight. The insides of her thighs were coated with a clear viscous substance, and even her curly black pubic hairs shone wetly, like they were soaked.

He growled again, and made as if to bite the inside of her left thigh, which caused Claire to whimper in apprehension. Instead Edward turned the threatened bite into a lick, in short little flicks, like a snake testing it's prey before delivering the fatal bite. He was the snake, and she was the transfixed little bird, unable to move as his tongue got closer and closer to the source of the scent - as well as that moist heat he had felt before.

Fortunately, Edward wasn't venemous, but he did mean to drive her crazy, so he stopped short of her nether lips, which were puffy and swollen, in favor of the inside of the other thigh. Claire gave a little scream of frustration, how badly she wanted a part of him in there - either his tongue, or his fingers, or his...

Speaking of which, it was becoming erect again, Edward huffed her aroused scent in through his mouth, then uttered another feral growl when his groin tightened in reply. He didn't really want to, but he had to pause - from necessity. Claire reached up behind her and scrabbled in one of the little cubbys on the headboard before finding the tiny box. "Only one left," she pouted.

"We'll have to go slow then, and make it last," he muttered, still in animal mode. He took the box she handed him and extracted the last french sleeve, french raincoat, condom, and all it's myriad nicknames. Until they got into the rhythm of fucking, he hated wearing one of those. They were easy enough to put on, but he was in agony of apprehension while doing it, always fearing he would tug too hard and cause a tear. And in the grip of his arousal, it was really hard to be patient while he pulled and pushed, and smoothed it out, careful to leave a little slack at the tip.

Claire held her hands out to him, and he crawled up the bed until their lips and tongues were meeting once again. He lowered himself, slowly, her legs spread further until she wrapped them around his waist. Claire felt a familiar thickness between her legs, and his hardness pushed forwards, against her lips, then between them, and inside to the molten heat. She moaned against his mouth when his hips rocked forwards, and his tongue mimicked the action, both moving agonizingly slowly. His hips moved back, and nearly all his length came out before it slid back, like a piston in slow motion. Once, he did pop out of her, and he had to reach back with one hand to guide himself back inside.

Claire cried out, high-pitched like a young girl, this extra slow motion was fine, but she wanted him to move faster, faster, and pound her senseless. The heat and weight of Edward's body was comforting as he moved back and forth, his right hand was caressing her hair while the fingers of his left were twining with the fingers of her right hand. Their mouths and tongues moved in rhythm too, until they started speeding up, then their mouths broke apart and his migrated to the side to suckle her right earlobe. Claire gasped out her passion in his left ear because heat was building in her abdomen, and her release was coming. She mewed like a kitten when it started, and writhed underneath him while her inner muscles clenched around him.

Her back arched, and she moved her hands to his hips, and tried to push him even further inside her as the familiar short, sharp yelps began to break free of her throat. Her body shuddered convulsively, and her climax began as one incredibly loud yell - which she muffled against his shoulder, biting him in time with the peaks of her orgasm. Edward growled in her ear, but increased his speed a little to help her along, and this time, her vision went beyond gray to a blinding white...
__________________________________________________________________________

Claire's interior muscles clamped so hard around Edward, for a breathless moment he thought she would break him, so he stopped and let her ride it out. A hot liquid gushed from deep inside her with such force, he could feel it soaking his pubic hairs, and running down his thighs. That would leave another wet spot on the bed. That smell, the one he had identified as that of aroused female strengthened, it filled Edward's nasal cavity and drove all coherent thought from his mind. He could feel his release just around the corner.

Claire's body was still jerking from the dying gasps of her climax when he lifted her legs up high until they rested on his shoulders before rolling his hips forward again to push deeper still. She had been moaning weakly, about to fall asleep, but this action brought her fully awake with a loud gasp. Edward moved slowly, very slowly, to let her get used to the feeling, and for her pants to start coming in time with his thrusts before he began to gradualy speed up. This was what she had wanted from the first moment he entered her. Edward had straightened his arms, and now he loomed over her, sweating profusely, the warm droplets speckling her swaying breasts.

Claire ran her hands up and down his arms, enjoying the mismatched strengths of his right arm of cold metal, and his left arm of warm flesh. She looked up in to his face and was startled to see him looking back at her, his golden eyes glinting behind his hair, and his long bangs swaying back and forth with each push. They had a rhythm going now, strong and hard, with a soundtrack of creaking bed springs, rustling sheets, sweaty flesh sliding against flesh, and the arousing wet sucking sound of their fucking, because they were way beyond basic lovemaking by now. This was pure, unadulterated, hot, sweaty, grunting animal sex.

This thought bubble had barely crossed Edward's mind when he felt it coming, his climax, his release, and he first growled in anticipation, then hissed between his teeth when the first wave of pleasure hit him. He threw his head back as his vision turned white, then closed his eyes tightly and howled his satisfaction to the full summer moon visible outside the bedroom window. Dim cries reached his ears and they told him Claire was climaxing along with him. So she had him on orgasms 3-2, he didn't begrudge her that. His vision came back into focus as his orgasm wound down, he grunted through a few more half hearted thrusts and finally stopped, his chest heaving, and a seeming waterfall of sweat cascading from his face.

Feeling like he'd just run a pair of marathons back to back, Edward first collapsed on to his elbows as he tried to catch his breath, before taking hold of Claire's legs and gently setting them back down on either side of him. He reached down and took hold of himself before he shuffled backwards to withdraw before he softened and the condom came off. Edward crawled on his knees to the side of the bed wherehe removed the condom and tied the end shut before dropping it into the bedside wastebasket. When he left Claire's bed, he would take it home with him like he always did, but not as a trophy. Back at the Old Vicarage he would get a trowel from the toolshed and he would bury the evidence at the bottom of the garden. In an uncultivated place where he knew it wouldn't be accidentally unearthed.

But he wasn't leaving just yet. On the bedside table was a damp cloth and Edward used it to carefully wipe himself off before laying back on the bed next to his exhausted lover. He lay the warm palm of his left hand over her stomach, and traced the old Caesarian scar there with his fingers. Early in their marriage, between the first miscarriage, and before the sad parade of more miscarriages, Claire had once carried a pregnancy to term long enough to go into labor. But after 18 hours of agonzing pain, the babe still hadn't appeared, and even the administration of Pitocin hadn't advanced her labor. The doctor had finally reached a hand up into her suffering birth canal where he discovered the baby was in a breech position.

She had been rushed into the operating theater and sedated, then her abdomen had been cut open, through the skin and the muscles to the uterus, but no cry had been heard when the baby was lifted out. The poor little mite had died a few hours before,he had been (it was a boy) strangled by the umbilical cord wrapped around his tiny neck.

The surgery had been botched and hasty, and as a result, an infection had set in, and Claire had developed a high fever. She lay there and suffered, until the doctor gave her morphine, then she drifted in and out of a fog for three days. Only occasionally did she hear Sam ranting and raving at her, you killed my son, you bitch! That had been the lowest point in their marriage, until the day she read the letter which informed her he had a mistress and children in Hong Kong.

The doctor had told her another pregnancy could be fatal because her uterine wall was weakened by the hasty manner in which it had been breached. Not that it mattered to Sam, barely eight weeks after she came from from the hospital, weak and pale, he was in bed with her, and starting another failed pregnancy which would weaken her a bit more.. It was another important reason for her and Edward to avoid pregnancy - it could quite likely kill her. Edward made no demands, he simply lay next to her and gently massaged the scar, as if his touch could make it vanish. Her abdominal walls had also been weakened and her belly stuck out slightly. Claire was very self conscious about it and she had felt unattractive the first time Edward had undressed her, but he told Claire the trials she had survived only made her more beautiful. Then he showed her his own scarred body, and his limbs of that strange metal. She never mentioned her feelings of inadequacy again.

Claire's eyes had already closed in sleep, and Edward's soon followed. The alarm was set for two a.m., it was very tempting to spend the entire night and kiss her good morning in the sunlight, but Claire was afraid Sissy would walk in on them. And Edward was afraid Alphonse would call out a search party if he didn't come home before dawn.

What Claire didn't realize is the nosy Sissy had found and read the letter damming Sam as blatantly unfaithful, and she also knew her employer was having an affair.

Which Sissy wholeheartedly approved of, but she thought Claire's lover of choice would be Bill Michaelson, the man who filled the coal bins in the cellar. He was tall, brawny, and good natured. Who would have thought a beautiful woman like Claire Travers would prefer the short, sickly-looking and rather temperamental Professor Elric?
___________________________________________________________________________

The alarm went off precisely two a.m., but Edward's quick hand silenced it after just a few rings. Not wanting to wake Claire up, he carefully slipped out of bed before pulling the covers up over her still naked body. He stood still for a few minutes, the dying moon limming his nude form with light while he waited for his eyes to get used to the darkness. Edward moved with care around the end of the bed, careful not to stub his toes, because he knew he would invariably curse the very air blue, and wake Claire up. His boxers and pants were at the end of the bed, and he quickly slipped them on, his socks were a few feet away, and close to the door he found his shirt.

His shoes would be downstairs, on the back hall mat. Now, where was his tie? Oh, that's right, he hadn't been wearing one. Tip toeing back to the bed, he leaned over the sleeping Claire and gently kissed her cheek, before he collected the condom wrappers and tossed them into the wastebasket, then gathered up the cellophane lining, tied it shut, and pulled the entire thing out. His eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness now, but he still navigated the bedroom with care to guard against bumping into an article of furniture and waking Claire up. After slipping out, and pulling the bedroom door to behind him, Edward found the hallway bright with moonlight, it ran on an east/west axis with large windows on either end.

A slight noise at the far end of the hall put him on his guard - Claire had joked it was haunted - Edward didn't believe in ghosts. But the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up anyway, and he practically flew to the stairs. He went down them quickly and turned left, through the dining room and into the kitchen. Past the enormous iron stove, still warm with a banked fire inside it, to the back hall. Edward slipped into his jacket which had been hanging there, then his shoes. Not bothering to tie them, he opened the back door and cautiously looked out. It was still pitch dark out, and what seemed to be an obscene amount of stars glittered overhead. The moon was heading for it's setting, but it still lit his way well enough.

No one about. Good.

Barely a month ago, he'd nearly been seen by either a very late night or very early morning perambulator.Someone who couldn't sleep had decided to take a walk in the lane, Edward had sunk behind the low wall surrounding Claire's garden and stayed there, trembling a little, until the sound of the man's footsteps had faded away. The next day, there was a story going about the town about how Mr. Parsons had seen a ghost flitting about the back garden of Mrs. Travers's house. It was a good cover, so neither had twitted Parsons about "seeing things". For Edward had discovered early on the people of this world were highly superstitious, and even mere rumors of ghostly activity kept all but the most curious away. Edward made sure the lock was set, and he closed the back door with a soft click. After shoving the cellophane package into a pocket, he knelt down and quickly tied his shoes before walking out to the garden gate.

Because it creaked, and the sound seemed to carry for miles in the still air, he climbed over the low wall. It had some natural toe holds and he scrambled up and over easily, and dropped softly onto the dirt surface of the lane. He cautiously looked around - no moving shadows announced someone taking a walk at 2.30 in the morning, so he straightened up and began walking swiftly and silently back to the Old Vicarage. Once home, he didn't go to the door right away, but instead went to the toolshed, right inside the door which opened silently on oiled hinges was a small trowel he had placed on a hook closest to the door. Edward flitted to the bottom of the garden, crouched down and began digging in the soft earth. In a matter of a few minutes, he had made a deep enough hole. He tossed in the cellophane packet, and filled in the hole, then scuffed the top a bit with his shoe so it didn't look too obvious.

They didn't have a gardener - couldn't afford one, so they bothered only with the top half of the garden, and planted a few rows of tomatoes, peas, green beans, and carrots. But one row set aside for a few pumpkins. Alphonse was fascinated with machine world holidays, particularly All Hallow's Eve and it's superstitions, like the preparation of jack o' lanterns. He would take some of the ripe pumpkins to his classroom in mid October and let his students mangle them. If ever a miracle happened (but Edward believed even less in miracles than he believed in ghosts, or the strange God of this world), and they could go back home, he felt Alphonse would have a hard time tearing himself away. His fiancee, Sally was said to be a "champion gardener", and she would probably take the entire garden over once she and Al were married. Which meant Edward would have to find someplace else to bury used condoms.

Edward replaced the trowel on it's hook, and shut the toolshed door before quietly approaching the front door of the house. The key slid smoothly into the oiled lock, and the door opened silently on oiled hinges. Edward slipped inside and shut the door before untying and removing his shoes, and hanging his jacket away in the front closet. Then he snuck down the hall to the back stairs.

He nearly died when the kitchen light clicked on with a sound which seemed deafening, and the light blinded him after the near-darkness his eyes were accustomed to. All he could see was a vague shadow approaching him, and a chill ran down his spine until it spoke one word:

"Brother?"

I'm nicked!