This was just sitting on my computer all unfinished and lonely, so I decided to pay some much needed attention to it. Not much to say about this one really, other than it's an odd pairing.
Fanfiction
By: Smurf
Pairing: Armstrong/Feury
Genre: romance (dunnoe, it's just weird)
Rating: M (I think)
Summary: Kain muses on Armstrong.
Disclaimer: serialhugger does not own FMA or any trademarks or liscences related thereof.
Kain didn't know when it had started. He didn't even know why it had started. He did, though, know what had started it: admiration.
Admiration was after all a sort of love in and of itself. He admired the confidence of the older man; it certainly took a lot of self-confidence to walk around shirtless a goodly portion of the time. And it definitely took confidence to sparkle like he did. Sure, the twinkling sparkles that hovered around the large framed man seemed to be a genetic trait of the Armstrong family, but still, it took a real man, secure in himself and his identity to carry off sparkling in the way that the Strong-Arm Alchemist did.
If admiration was what had sparked it, then longing was what had fanned the flames.
Little Kain Feury was just that; little. He was short, and slender. Kain Feury, was to big, as Major Armstrong, was to small. While Kain was compact and lithe, even if a bit scawny, Armstrong was big and muscular. Feury longed to be like that. He wanted to be more like the Major, strong and confident, and able to reach the top shelf in the break room cabinetry without standing on tip-toe, or a rather thick looking training manual.
Admiration and longing were a part of it. Kain was well aware of that. He admired Armstrong for his confidence and longed to be like him… but it was more than that too. He didn't only admire the balding blonde's confidence, nor did he just long to be like him. He admired the man's sense of right and wrong, as well as his loyalty, though there wasn't a man in Mustang's unit who could really be called disloyal, and the gentle personality that was behind the bulging muscles, and glittering sparkles. He longed to touch the large frame of the older man. He wanted to feel Alex Louis Armstrong touch him as well.
If admiration sparked it, and longing fanned the flames, then the question became what exactly was 'it'? Was it desire? Lust? Or was it some combination of the two? Feury didn't rightly know. But he did know, as he stood shivering in his shower, not from the cool temperature of the water as it hit his skin, but from the orgasm that he milked from his body with his own small hand, that the hand he wanted on him, bringing him to completion, was a much different, much stronger, much larger hand; a hand that just so happened to belong to a certain sparkling Major.
Oh god! Someone shoot me... or at least review and tell me how disturbed I am.
I can't believe I wrote that.
Hugs and Oreos
Smurf