Title: Lust
Characters: Scar, Lust and Scar's brother
Genre: Slightly Angst/ Hurt without the Comfort
Type: AU or AR
Words: 2,506 (without AN or Intro)
Lust:
(noun) intense sexual desire or appetite
(noun) a passionate or overmastering desire or craving
This was the only word that explained his feelings with the least bit of accuracy.
It was forbidden for him to love her. She was his brother's fiancée, his future sister-in-law. She was going to marry his brother, love him, provide him dark haired children and grow old with him. There wasn't any room for him and his feelings, not with the way society functioned today.
So why was he still holding onto these feelings of secret affection when he knew very well he shouldn't. All he had to do was move on and find someone else, right? He wasn't sure what to do. Every time he felt that he was going to move on, finally give up on this impossible dream of being with her, she pulled him back in. Whether it was a small smile or an innocent touch on the shoulder, he found himself buried deeper into his adoration and the courage he had worked up to finally give up the losing battle vanished.
As the years progressed, it only got worse. He started to crave her. Crave her like a spicy curry, thick on his tongue yet burning in the back of his throat, always desiring it but never allowed to have it.
Then he started having dreams. At first, it was simple dreams, about what their life would be like, what their kids would look like, how she would look on her wedding day. Then her looks became more passionate, more lust filled and he found himself watching as she showed him parts of her only his brother had seen. Then it turned to hot wild sex and he would wake up to soiled sheets and sweat clinging to the pores in skin.
Next were the prostitutes. He would go to several bars, find any girl that resembled her and pretend it was her while he was having sex with sometimes it was even with some random whore he had picked up.
It was two nights before their wedding when he had his worst dream.
Her deeply tanned skin rubbed seductively against his, while moans vibrated down his throat. Full pink swollen lips nibbled on his, bright amber eyes glowing with lust and love, groaning and screaming his name in pure ecstasy.
It made him tremble as the memory replayed over and over again, the feelings clashing with his usually calm state of mind. Slowly he lost all control as he stared to drown in despair; his surroundings all seemed to be faded.
Resentment formed. Buried deep inside him, hate burned his insides at the sight of the two snuggling together, whispering quietly in each other's ear, and just doing anything that he thought seemed so natural. He had been delusional, he could admit that. He somehow managed to convince himself that it was his brother's fault. His brother was the one who took her away from him. His brother was the one who tricked her and who seduced her into loving him. His brother was the one who purposely did it so he wouldn't have a chance with her.
He was always had the better poker face out of the two. He didn't need it when they talked about any other subject; it was natural for him to have an easy smile. His brother was his favorite person. He could talk to him about anything and he would listen, completely none judgmental, as he gauged the best response.
But then he would mention her name, his relaxed smiled turned into a sharp frown before it balanced out into a firm line, giving it just enough of a tilt so it gave the illusion he had on his customary easy smile.
Maybe he did it because of his hate for him. Maybe he did it to get rid of the taunting voice in the back of his head that kept telling him to make his brother pay. On the other hand, it could be because he was so desperately pinning after her. He didn't know what made him snap, what made him want to hurt the both of them as painfully as he could but all he knew that when he did it and he wouldn't be able to take it back.
It was the day before her wedding. Following tradition, she had a bachelorette party while his brother had his bachelor party. The problem was she had very few female friends and knowing his brother wouldn't be very happy if she brought some of her male coworkers, she instead dragged him along. Not that his brother minded or anything. His brother was so certain at the time that she was safer with him than with anyone else.
She generally strayed away from bars, since their culture told them it was born from evil sins of the western society, but tonight she was curious so he had suggested one of his favorite bars, Beautiful Scars.
They sat at the stools, not dancing, her drinking very little of the excellent alcohol they had to offer. The music continued to pound excitedly around them, but to him everything fell on deaf ears because all he could hear was the ticking; it was taunting him, warning him like Cinderella, whose time was coming till the end.
He convinced her to drink a strong beverage, even though she had a look that clearly said she didn't want to swallow one ounce of the amber liquid. It didn't take much effort to keep her chugging them down, all he had to do was lower his voice to its natural deep tone, and add an extra hint of kindness, a skill he had mastered over the years, and he watched as she drank them down with reluctant curiosity.
He stopped her after her first bottle, effortless changing his expression and tone. He suggested to her that he would take her home and it was getting late. He really didn't have to say anything because she was already gingerly trying to climb off the cushioned chair. She stumbled, reaching his hand out, he grabbed her, which caused thousands of electrical shocks to tear through his system. Waiting till she was steady, he took a tender step away from her, anything to put distance between them so he didn't have remember how just a single touch of her hand could arouse him. Her steadiness didn't last long, however, and very little time passed before she was falling over again, the distance between her face and the floor getting smaller and smaller.
His movements were automatic, his reflexes made him react like a spring coming up like a coil buried underneath a worn out mattress. Arms wrapped around her waist and he could feel the satin like smoothness of her skin through the thin layer of her enhancing dress. A fire lit his fingers, which tore through his muscles and into the marrow of his bone. It was agonizing for him to be so close, so close yet so far away that he found himself reluctantly letting her go as he leaned far away , watching from the corner of his eye to make sure she wouldn't fall over again.
"You're really drunk, aren't you?" He asked, trying to hide the dark note of lust that had taken over his mind, his fingers twitching in his pockets as they were forever burning with touch of her skin.
She didn't say a word. All she could do was stared at him with her solemn tired amber eyes and he knew the best thing to do right now was to get her home.
Lightly putting his arm around her small shoulders, he guided her to the car, making sure to pay the grumbling bartender, easily shutting him up by giving him a fairly large tip.
She remained silent as he led her to the passenger seat, opening the door for her as she clumsily got in. Once he knew she safely buckled in, he walked around to the driver's seat, thankful that he was smart enough not to drink anything, for he of course, was the designated driver.
It was a quiet ride, a ride full of a lax silence, which gave him far more time to think then he really wanted. He just wanted… no, needed to feel and for once in his life the thought of analyzing the situation as too tedious of a labor to attempt. She just remained passive as she stared outside through the clouded window, silently gazing at the scenery as it leisurely rolled by in the darkness of the night. He was sure that if he didn't see her amber eyes staring at him through the reflection of the window he would have believed she was asleep.
The beauty about the bar was that it wasn't too far away from their house, so it came no surprise when ten minutes had passed and they were already at the house. Like at the bar, he carefully guided her to the door. Normally she walked with a natural grace but the alcohol had turned it to a wavering unbalanced weak steps and he was practically holding her by the time they got to the door.
She didn't put forth any effort into putting the key in the lock, as if she expected him to be a perfect gentleman and do what she wasn't physically able. She just watched, rather indolently, as he grabbed the keys out of her hand, watching him with intense curiosity as he put the key in the sculptured hole and turned it.
A familiar click rang through the windless night, reminding him of how big and empty the world was, before he pushed the door open to reveal a dark barren house that somehow managed to retain its warm homey feeling.
*He watched her as she strolled into the room, her hips subconsciously swaying as he had entered into the house, gently closing the door behind him. They really needed to oil the hinges.
She didn't bother to turn on the light or maybe she never thought of it, but she just stopped at the entrance, leaned down and began to unzip her ankle boots from her small feet.
He didn't make a sound as he felt his self-control crumble into shambles. He didn't moan or lean toward her and swallow her whole. He waited, waited until she was standing perfectly straight; staring at him with eyes that he thought begged him to love her. Then he just kind of… snapped. Everything flowed out of him, his hate, his desire, his pain, his loneliness, it was a rushing current and before he could stop himself, he had already grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the nearest wall.
There wasn't any love. There wasn't any desire. There wasn't any acceptance. It was nothing like he had imagined. There was only a drunk glaze as she peered at him innocently from under her long eyelashes. Her eyes scared him. It was more than just him being scared. There was something in her eyes, something that made him feel so guilty. It frightened. So instead, he focused onto her lips, on the soft red hue, on the plump volume and her rich taste.
He didn't wait. He didn't wait or want her approval or her love. He just took her. He took her as if she was his to take, raved and satisfied himself with intense obsession instead of listening to her pitiful cries and weak moans.
It was a shy cry at first, but as his efforts got harder and more pleasurable, she yelled it louder. She yelled her brother's name, not his. He predicted that some night she would say that. She was drunk so it didn't come to any surprise when she couldn't tell that it was her fiancé little brother that was making love to her rather than his brother.
He paused to listen to her sweet whimpering moans. He waited, waited for the burning of agitation, the pain of betrayal, and the ugly head of jealousy butting in where it didn't belong. However, it never came. He felt oddly empty, oddly guilty, so to push the feelings away, he continued to taste, to explore, to hurt, not bothering to correct his mistake.
That night he had explored her, had sinfully loved her in ways that he shouldn't have been allowed. Skin on skin. Soft nibbles. Butterfly kisses. Rough licks. Running, turning, spinning fingers. He did everything that he had imagined in his dreams and maybe even more.
She didn't object. She just took it all in, moaning and whimpering, driving him of the edge that only made him increase his efforts, earning himself more delicious moans and whines.
She would never remember. She would never remember the touches, the few gentle kisses, the waves of passion and pleasure. She would never remember the moans, the quiet pleading whispers, the guilt in his eyes as he heard her call his brother's name over and over and over till he felt sick to his stomach.
She would never remember and he made sure of that.
In the morning sunlight, he saw the full pain of destruction he had left. She laid there, sheets wrapping around her lithe form like a cocoon, bite marks barely visible in her deep tanned skin, dried tear stains drying out on soft skin of her cheeks.
He left, boarded a train to go to college. He knew by now she would have woken up, appalled by the results of their one nightstand, before she took a shower and got dressed, probably hiding the marks with liquid foundation.
Then she would walk down the aisle, a perfect angel, and then they would cut the cake and dance and go on their honeymoon both unaware that she had a darker secret than they could have ever imagine. As the rest of the train ride slipped on, the clock ticking its familiar chime had filled his head and made him do what he forbidden himself from a long time ago. He cried.
He read a book later when got into college, that he found the answer to what his supposed "love" to her was. He had heard his professors raving about this new book, using high appraisals, and he couldn't help but be very interested. So, the next day he went to the library, picked the last copy of the book and proceeded to his room to read it. He cracked open a page, dust billowing out of the book and he fanned it all away before he finally could focus on the elegantly cursive words.
"Lust gives us exactly what we want. Nothing more, nothing less. And that my friends, is the very reason why on this earth lust is the most rewarding thing anyone will find."
He had a funny feeling that he was going to like this book, a very funny feeling.
AN: So are any of you curious on why this took so long? Probably not but I will tell you anyway. Okay this was supposed to be the Alphonse and Winry but thanks to my wonderful friend and beta (who is probably one of the best) suggested I change it to Scar/Lust/Scar brother's triangle. I think it was brilliant. Then we had to reread it and edit a million times and I am pretty happy with the result, which is what your looking out. So please R&R.
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