Little Lambs Prompt #13 - Slaughter Title: Little Lambs Pairing: Roy/Ed Rating: R Summary: They were like lambs to the slaughter, and Ed was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Genre: Romance/General Warnings: Language, dark themes, mild gore and implied sex. Length: 6866 words Status: Complete one-shot. Speed!fic written for two reasons. Firstly, it is created as an excuse for me to get Ed into eyeliner. Secondly, to aid dino_face in recovering from Man Flu. Get well soon, hun. Now with fanart! Thank you, Eaglebird! Little Lambs This place didn't have a name, not officially, but regulars called it ?The Pyre?. Supposedly it was a bar, but alcohol wasn't the only thing they served. Incense thickened the hot, breathless air, but it didn't hide the tell-tale fragrance of drug smoke. Faint, discordant music played in the background. No one was trying to dance; that wasn't what these people did. They reclined on cushions on the floor or lounged in comfortable chairs, some speaking, others staring into space as they listened or lost themselves in their own daydreams. Ed had seen Goths before. They dressed in black, dark crimson and deepest blues, completely at odds with Central's current fashions. Before now he hadn't paid much attention to them. They were just people, so what if they looked a bit different? With a metal arm and leg he was hardly one to talk about conformity. Those he had spoken to seemed friendly enough, but none of them had been like the patrons in this place. They'd had hope and purpose. These men and women had nothing. They weren't trying to make a statement with what they wore or how they looked. They were just trying to escape. Most weren't much older than him, but they looked like vulnerable kids, drunk or drugged or both. If someone told them to jump off a bridge, most of them would do it without question. And somewhere among them was a man who wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of their helplessness. An ex-state alchemist called Booker was preying on the drinkers and addicts here, using them as fuel for his experiments. He tempted them out into the city, promising them fuck knew what before making sure they were too high to know right from left and using them in... . Ed forced his expression to stay clear and blissful as his stomach turned. He had seen the arrays drawn around a rumpled double bed ? blood splashed bright red across white silk sheets and pooling on the floor.. Alchemy and sex were a powerful combination, and Ed could see why the pervert had chosen this place to find his targets. Everywhere he looked there were flashes of skin, nothing explicit, but they suggested so much more. In theory an alchemist who activated an array after penetration could make use of their partner's energy to fuel the transmutation. Slitting their throats wasn't necessary. Perhaps that was just how Booker got off. There were four dead bodies in the alchemist's basement, male and female, all blonde and under eighteen. One hadn't been dead more than a day. Booker would be looking for his next target, and it seemed like the natural conclusion for Ed to act as bait. He matched the profile of the victims, and even if he didn't catch the killer's attention then at least he was at his favourite hunting ground. With any luck, Ed would be able to make sure that no one else suffered the same fate as the others. At least, he would if the fucker showed up. He'd been hanging around since midnight, almost six hours, and there was still no sign of him. He took another sip from his glass, licking his lips as if enjoying the taste. To anyone who was watching he had been drinking spirits all night, but there was nothing worse than coloured water in the tumbler. The guy behind the bar was keeping him supplied, his cooperation guaranteed by the threat of a raid from the police if he did not comply. A movement in the corner of Ed's vision made him pause, and he watched a man hesitate at the doorway, scouting the crowd. He was probably in his mid-forties, dark haired, dark eyed and dressed like everyone else in here. Good looking, too. Ed's gaze gravitated towards the simple tattoo on the man's cheek, and he drew in a breath. It was the same array that had been painted around the bloodied bed. Ed shifted, letting a swathe of his loose hair fall forward. The flash of gold was enough to catch the eye, and he could feel the heat of Booker's hungry gaze on him, taking in his clothes and the body beneath them. It was instinctive to hunch away from that scrutiny but Ed held his ground, letting him look. He was used to being covered from head to toe, and the cool breeze raised a chill along his bare left arm and shoulder. The top he wore curved around his torso and covered the automail and its associated scars beneath black fabric. One or two strategic rips showed glimpses of his stomach, and the hem didn't quite meet his belt. His right hand was gloved, and the leather pants were only slightly different from those that he wore everyday. He looked like he belonged here. He'd made sure of that. If anyone cared to look closely they would see other touches that gave credibility to his appearance, like the ring in his lip and at the top of his ear, but Booker had obviously seen enough. The man sauntered closer, never losing eye contact. Ed expected him to be wary and distrustful, but he was arrogantly confident, as if he thought no one would ever catch him. A faint scar carved along the line of his jaw, and there was an edge of restlessness to his movements, as if he were on the high of his life. The hot, metallic stench of alchemy washed over Ed as Booker stopped in front of him, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with awareness. He reached out, taking Ed's glass from his loose grasp and setting it aside before giving a wolfish grin, lustful and dangerous. It was tempting to attack, to take him down and get out, but there was no way Ed could be sure that he'd succeed. If Booker got a chance to activate any kind of array, he could blow this place apart, killing Ed and everyone else within fifty feet. His stolen power made the air seethe, and Ed knew he couldn't give the fucker a chance to put it to good use. He would have to play along for now, at least until they were outside. Booker reached out, brushing Ed's loose hair back behind his ear before bracing his palms against the wall on either side of Ed's head. A snarl threatened to rumble from Ed's throat, a warning to the stranger to back off, but he forced it back and held himself still. If he did anything that suggested he wasn't as drunk and suggestible as everyone else in here, then this whole thing would fall apart and the bastard would either run or fight. He needed to act like he was interested, but his mind kept returning to the dead teenagers and fury clenched hard and hot in his gut. 'I can give you what you want,' Booker husked, his voice a rough-edged purr as he gave a smoky, mysterious smile. 'Whatever you need, I'll make sure it's yours.' Ed kept his silence, knowing that if he said a word it would be full of rage. Better to let Booker think he was too far gone to speak. Instead he blinked up at the alchemist, trying to feel anything other than bile and loathing. He wasn't good at acting. People could always tell when he was lying; his face was too expressive and gave everything away. He needed to be convincing, and the only way that was going to happen was if he pretended that it was someone else pinning him to the wall, someone he actually wanted to take to bed. In this light Booker's hair and eyes could have been black, and it wasn't hard to imagine a different man in his place. The thought of Mustang leaning over him like this was enough to change the quality of the heat in Ed's body. It sank lower, spreading down between his legs, and he felt the familiar prickle of want dance over his skin as he dredged up every enticing fragment of memory he had. It didn't matter that he and Mustang had never been more than commanding officer and subordinate, that they'd never kissed or even touched. For now his imagination served its purpose, giving his body language a more realistic edge. He licked his lips, letting them curve in a secretive smile. Tipping his head to the side, Ed exposed his throat as he looked up Booker, submissive and inviting. Dark eyes flickered to the skin over his pulse, and Ed clung desperately to his fantasy as Booker lowered his head to press a kiss over the hammering beat. Lips became teeth, biting hard in a way that made Ed's body jerk in pain, but Booker took it for need instead, making a rough sound of appreciation in Ed's ear. No one in their right mind would let someone they barely knew do this to them, but Ed knew that was what the alchemist was counting on. Everyone here was too far gone to do anything but respond to their basic instincts. Booker seduced them and they followed him home, like lambs to the fucking slaughter. And Ed was a wolf in sheep's clothing. A hand shifted, skimming down his bare arm before circling his wrist firmly, tugging him away from the wall. Ed let himself stumble, making every step deliberately uncoordinated as he followed Booker's lead between the other patrons and up the steps that led to the outside world. The entrance to ?The Pyre? was down a secluded alley, gloomy in the weak dawn light. There was no one with them but a handful of down-and-outs, and Ed glanced quickly in their direction before turning back to Booker. The whole thing still had the potential to go horribly wrong. If he fucked this up now and Booker got away, then they would probably lose their only chance of catching the bastard. He had to choose his moment. If he could just get ...
Mojaunicorn