Redemption

Chapter 8

When dawn broke the next morning, filling the closed in cell with a soft rose glow from the small window near the ceiling, Scar was still awake. There was no way he was going to waste a single moment of time with his little lover on something as commonplace as sleep. He lay just about on his side, Al tucked quite securely against his chest and flank, snuggled close. Their legs were tangled together, and one of Al's arms was flung over Scar's side.

Damien stared down at the lovely boy in his arms, taking in the soft flush of sleeping cheeks, brazen lashes in thick fans over the tops of his cheeks, with their faint dusting of freckles. He was breathing softly, slightly parted lips revealing a faint hint of teeth, and the warm air washing over Scar's mouth and chin was humid, with a touch of musk from earlier endeavors.

The older man's heart contracted. God, how he loved this boy. As much as he'd hated before his death and rebirth in the desert sands, as much as he'd lusted for revenge, he now craved life with the sweet morsel in his arms. A long life, filled with laughter and tears, joy and pain, years and years and years with the angel that conquered his vengeful heart long before the decimation of Lior.

There were no more years; the life he'd led since Lior, since he found this sublime creature in the sour waters of Central's sewers, over. No more mornings past the next few. The trial would run its course, and he would die. And Alphonse would mourn.

That smote Scar more than the idea of his own demise; that Al would grieve, hurt and agonize. Even over leaving his sweet and gentle lover. Al would cry and scream from pain. And that was what was killing the older man.

Damien had no doubt that Al loved him. The boy was generous with his emotions, always had been. He'd told the older man this numerous times with his eyes and heart long before their discovery in Faldora, and Al finally saying the same with his mouth. Alphonse Elric loved him, Damien Coeurlisse with all his might and main, with every fiber of his heart and body, and every thought and deed. Al loved him, and would be crushed to his very foundations when Scar was executed.

Those wondrous molten eyes would run silver with bitter grief; those rosy lips would tremble with gasping cries of pain. That warm and beating heart could possibly still and this bright and vivid creature would turn dark and cold.

His own eyes burning ferociously, Damien lightly stoked Al's cheek, soft and warm and velvety like a summer-warmed peach. How he wished for a way, any way, to save this loving and gentle man such pain and suffering. But it was far, far too late. Al loved, and Al would grieve.

Soft drops dotted those sleeping cheeks, from the dark and sorrowful eyes of a man that had sworn years ago that he would never weep again.

A pair of eyes watched the trembling caress, the fall of silent tears. A heart contracted.

Havoc turned away from the little window of the door, trembling fingers over his mouth. Ed may have tracked them down, but Havoc turned them in. Havoc caused them to be brought back in chains, facing death. Havoc caused Al to face the loss of his heart.

And to see Scar weep over the boy was like watching something warm and wonderful die.

He leaned against the wall, facing away from the prison cell, and stared determinedly ahead. The lawyer would arrive today, and perhaps, despite everything, this would end well.

It just had to.

**************

Al came awake to a soft and dreamy passion. Something was pulling, tugging gently on a fiery center between his legs. God.. the sultry pleasure, the silvery locks between sleep befuddled fingers, dark lips suckling greedily…

"Damian…." It came out as a long soft moan as the boy's back arched and rushing wet heat flooded the other man's mouth thickly, intense pleasure plucking deeply within Al's body, followed by a soft stab of sated lust with every swallow that followed around his softening member.

Scar, his tears spent and all signs vanished, sat back with a satisfied look about him, swallowing the sweet and sharp mouthful he'd pulled from his young lover.

So delicious…

And he wasn't even really hard himself, though it wouldn't take much to get him that way. Drinking from Alphonse was like a holy sacrament to him. Something to be indulged in whenever possible, no matter what reciprocation came his way. And now, watching his flushed, his sleep and passion tousled lover, he was once more rewarded by the sharp lance of joy right through his heart.

Al stared sleepily up at his older lover for a moment, then shook off the last vestiges of slumber like an old blanket and was in Scar's lap, arms twined firmly around that sinewy neck, legs wrapped tightly around a flat waist, and a rear rubbing slowly and enticingly over a crotch that was hardening so swiftly, it hurt. Lips fused and breath was shared.

And to make matters even more erotic, both were naked, and last night's pleasure was continuing to leak slowly from Al's body, raking wet heat across Scar's lap. Al gave a happy squeak, twisted his hips deftly, and with the skill of months of passion, impaled himself on his lover's rigid spike.

Scar cried out with sudden unexpected pleasure. God, had Al always been able to take him so fast, so deep, so suddenly?

Considering that said boy's face was once more flushed with pleasure, eyes dreamy, mouth slightly parted and panting softly as he rocked in Scar's lap sensually… evidently so.

Alphonse was not often an instigator, though he was always eager when they made love, so it made this interlude all the more exciting to the older man's mind. Young hands pushed him down against the mattress as the blond hovered over the other, knees digging into the downy softness of the bed as he rose and fell, pushed and pulled, drove and retreated.

Big hands found slim hips; all the better to help the boy ride him, and the thrusts became even more forceful, deeper, harder, and more erotic. Scar arched up every time Al drove down and their bodies slapped together in counterpoint to hurricane breathing, deep groans and mewled cries.

It didn't take long, despite the previous nights passion, and they froze together, grinding hard against each other, one seeking to crawl inside his lover, the other seeking to envelope him from utterly. There were jerking spurts deep inside one, and hot pulsing ribbons striking chest and cheek of the other.

And then it was over. Al collapsed over his older lover, both physically and emotionally, and began to cry softly.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't let Damian leave him behind. He couldn't be without his dark and silvery lover. He couldn't let his heart break, the other stop breathing. He couldn't do it…. Trembling whispers washed over Scar's perspiring face.

He wouldn't….

And Scar saw the burning resolve in the other's eyes, and sighed softly, knowing there was trouble ahead. When Al got that most Elric like look in his eyes, there was no swaying him.

And he was right. Several moments later, both were settled back into the bed, and Al stared at his lover as if he'd never seen him before. Scar was uneasy to see such a stern look on that young and loving face.

"I won't do it," the boy declared suddenly.

Scar didn't pretend to misunderstand. "You may very well have to."

"No, I won't." Still stern, unyielding. "I know you say you do not want a life on the run for me… but do you want me to grieve forever? I will you know. I will miss you forever, and I will never dare love again. You're it, Damien. You are the one, the only. Once you are gone, I will be alone forever. Do you really want to do that to me?"

Scar sighed softly. "There is still your brother. He loves you, you know. Like you did him. He loves you like that now."

Al was silent a long moment. He had already figured this out; not only on his own, but because Ed had let him know early on that his feelings for his brother had only grown more intense, more passionate.

"But I loved you this way first," he said forlornly. And it was true. He'd been born loving his brother, in a most familial way. I was only after he'd gotten his body back, and been drowned with sensation that he learned to love his brother erotically. But though he couldn't feel the sensations before when he was armor, the way he felt about Scar now was the same as then; only now he could feel every delicious sensation of it.

Despite the wistful tone of voice, Al's eyes were hard as steel. Scar would have his work cut out for him trying to dissuade his young lover to leave him to his fate now, no matter how yielding he'd been before.

But before Scar could find any retort, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by just enough time for Al to gasp and burrow deeply into the blankets of the bed, which, despite his insipient embarrassment, he suddenly noticed were crisp and clean and woven of fine cotton.

Scar almost leisurely reached over for his linen overshirt, as crisp and clean as his sheets, and slid it over his head just as the guard, to wit, Havoc, opened the heaven wooden cell door to allow his Fuhrer to pass through.

Mustang showed no surprise to find a smaller lump in the bed, quivering slightly. An almost not there smile graced the dark haired man's lips. Of course he was well aware of who his prisoner's guest was, and was pretty sure what they had been doing.

"It is time to get up, Scar," the Fuhrer said coolly. "You and your lover both. You have a visitor, and I hope you will avail yourselves of his services."

A rosy-cheeked Al finally peeked out of the nest of blankets to blink owlishly at Mustang.

"He is one of the finest up and coming young lawyers of our finest law firm. Try to be decent when he arrives shortly, will you?" Without waiting for a response from either man, Mustang strode briskly out the door. The man was unsure how to feel about this newest development.

To be sure, it had been done with his knowledge; dealing with an angry, heart aching Al had been terrible. Yet, Scar had done so much evil towards the State; an entity to which Al, his brother Ed, and Mustang himself owed so much. Their homeland. But Mustang was also wise enough to know that forces of war had driven the silver haired man, who was no citizen of Amestris, but a refugee of a people the State had tried very had to destroy. Scar was Amestris' terrorist, but he was Ishballan patriot. Everything was relative.

However, for Al's sake, he hoped that the Amestrian courts could be persuaded to have such a liberal view as this.

Pausing for a moment to survey the attorney sent to the prison by the State's most prestigious law firm, he hoped that this young man would be up to the task. After all, both Al and Ed were exceedingly young, yet so skilled in their fields. So too must this young man be. He would have to be, for Al's sake.

Back in the room, there was a quick frenzy of motion as Al threw on yesterday's clothes with amusing haste. Unfazed by this latest event, having indeed been informed from the beginning of his upcoming trial, naturally, Scar stayed the overwrought young man long enough to take care of a few glaring discrepancies in his attire; most notably turning his shirt right side out, and closing his fly.

Al couldn't help the bubble of laughter that rose in his throat; as well as rising hope. Though there had been no time to fully hash out Al's point of view, he knew that Scar had caught the gist of it, and the younger man would dog his lover's very steps if necessary, to ensure the best possible outcome of his trial.

Because if that failed, Al would have to take drastic measures, no matter what Damian had to say on the matter.

Thus both were presentable when ten minutes later, a dark haired young man in his twenties, with gray eyes and a dusting of freckles across his nose, was ushered in.

Upon this young man's slender but unbowed shoulders, their fate would rest, at least for a while.

AN: Gasp! Is it… could it be… Sam???

And… am I.. is it possible… Alive???

Only the shadow knows…

But we can always hope, lol.