Estel Tinuviel (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} esteltinuviel) wrote,@ 2007-09-19 19:18:00 |
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Al x Hei angst fic
Title: Stray Kitten
Author:esteltinuviel
Pairing: one-sided Alphonse x Heiderich, implied Ed x Heiderich, elricest
Rating: R--NC-17
Genre: angst, romance, non con, one-sided romance, implied kink, animal role play, AT
Words: 1519
Spoilers/Warnings: as said above, non con, implied kink and animal role play, slight movie spoilers
Summary: With Edward dead, Al finds it hard to move on living with Edward's lover and his own doppelganger
Stray Kitten
Alphonse stared at his reflection in the mirror. His gaze moved from the gentle curve of his nose and the round shape to his face, to his large eyes that shone in the pale light, then back down to his mouth, neither a smile nor a frown, and then back up to the hair that fell across his forehead.
Only, when he looked in the mirror he saw blue eyes and blonde hair.
XXX
Al curled up on the couch, pulling the cat up into his lap. He started to pet his fur, and smiled when the animal began to purr at his ministrations.
“You’re a good kitty,” he whispered, bending down so his face was closer to the cat’s. Al’s smile widened when the animal relaxed and allowed him to rub under his chin, stretching out his neck to receive the maximum rub.
“You’re not fickle like all the others, but even if you were, I’d break you of that habit.” Al’s voice held a tinge of cold, a touch of sternness that was enough to make the cat tense up again and his already fast heart rate increase rapidly so that it was beating in his chest like that of a rabbit’s as it is about to be eaten by the fox.
Al’s smile fell and he stopped petting the cat. “If you don’t want to be petted, fine, have it your way.”
Al got up. Normally, a cat would feel the owner was getting up and jump off. But Heiderich just fell to the floor.
XXX
“Kitty! Kitty, time for dinner!” Alphonse called down the hall, clanking the food dish with a spoon.
Kitty came sauntering down the hall, in no hurry despite his hunger, but gratefully stared at the dish of chicken. He bent down, too far used to eating this way to care that he was eating with his face in a food dish, mouth covered in little bits of chicken, all of his gender identifying features plainly visible to his owner.
It was cooked. Kitty tried it raw once, as it was offered to him, but Kitty threw up and was given cooked meat from then on.
Cat throw up was unpleasant to clean.
But if Kitty ate all his food and was good during dinner, Kitty would get milk. And all kitties liked milk. Or if he didn’t like it, Kitty drank it anyway. Because all kitties like milk.
Alphonse watched his kitten eat, smiling, pleased his kitten enjoyed the food. Pride welled up within him, for being able to take care of a pet. The feeling soon came crashing down. Kitty wasn’t really his. Kitty was a leftover.
Edward had died to save that damn cat and now Al was left—alone—with the stupid thing.
XXX
Al gripped the fur on Kitty’s head, tight, his own jaw clenched shut in a growl. Only Al was permitted to growl.
Kitty meowed in what Al took as—said—was pleasure even though it was Kitty lapping at the weeping milk in hopes that the full deluge of milk would come soon enough even if he dreaded that event with as much as he could dread anything in his life now.
He flicked his tongue out at the tip, lightly licking, but then used his tongue to sweep in broader strokes as if hungry for the sweet secretion that was soul crushing to taste.
Al relaxed his grip, petting and smoothing the hair and naked skin, running his hands along the backbone of his kitten, whispering words of praise. He rocked his hips into Kitty’s mouth, surprising his pet.
Kitty choked, his teeth accidentally grazing the tender flesh.
Alphonse’s reaction was visceral.
He kicked, jerking, and pushed his kitten away forcefully. Kitty recoiled in fear, flinching as the hand rose against him and came crashing down his tender skin that should have hardened and grown used to this by now. He fought the urge to hiss and bite back, harder this time, but was petrified by fear of the hand that abused his body.
“Bad Kitty! What have I told you about biting?!” Alphonse shouted at him as he shoved him from the bed.
Heiderich whimpered out a meow and waited for Al to go to bed, for only then could he curl up and nurse his bleeding wounds.
XXX
Al sobbed into his pillow. His hand stung from where he’d hit his cat, and the sound the poor animal made had twisted the knife farther into his fractured heart. His skin crawled as if infected with bugs, maggots, anything unclean and his mind reeled from the anger and abuse he’d just unleashed.
He hadn’t mean to. Honestly. He never meant to hurt his kitty. He loved his kitty.
But it wasn’t his kitty.
Heiderich was Ed’s kitty. Al wished he was Ed’s cat. But Ed was dead.
XXX
Kitty carefully crawled back up onto the bed once Al’s sobs had quieted and he had slipped into a deep sleep. He curled up against his back, nuzzling his nose into his neck.
Al’s breathing evened out and his body relaxed against his cat’s.
Calm.
XXX
Al woke up with his kitten still fast asleep against his back. He sat up slowly, so as not to disturb his pet, but the animal woke easily and soon blinked up at him.
Al hesitantly reached over and scratched Kitty behind the ears. Kitty flinched a bit, and Al drew his hand back hastily, biting his lip.
The tears came anyway.
They flowed like the blood that had seeped onto the sheets, staining them once again.
He sobbed and pulled his cat close, cradling the broken and bleeding animal in his arms with whispered words of apology and promises to never do that again, words of love and comfort. Empty words and broken promises.
Sorry never was enough.
XXX
Al let out a loud giggle as his cat tickled his bare chest. He laughed more when the cat started to knead his stomach, massaging the muscles as his paws worked the skin. Al brought his hand up, carefully, to stroke his cat’s underside, looking at Kitty’s face for signs of disapproval. But Kitty was relaxed, purring again.
“You’ve got such pretty fur,” Al murmured, petting him. “All creamy and smooth.” He trailed his hand down further, to just barely touch the tufts of dark that curled around more sensitive areas.
Kitty tensed and rolled over away from Al, curling up to protect his vulnerable underside. His bright blue eyes were wide, dilated as much as his true nature would allow, scared. His heart raced like that of a cat’s, borderline panicking.
Al pulled his kitten close. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you.” He rubbed his cat’s neck, soothingly, to calm the frightened animal. “You’re my little stray.”
Except Alphonse was the stray in need of care.
XXX
“Kitty, what was my brother like?” Al asked him, lying on his bed with his cat curled against his side. He idly petted his hair, long strokes from the top of his head down his backbone, but stopped just before he reached the tail. Or what would have been a tail, but Al had always suspected his kitty was a Manx.
Kitty’s eyes flickered up, but then back down. Kitty was silent, hardly purring at all. Al wondered if he needed to see a vet because his kitty was so silent these days.
“Was he nice to you? Gave you treats? Did he let you sleep on the bed?” Al paused, his voice going softer. “Edward would have never let my cats sleep on the bed… if I had any. “
Kitty shifted a bit, still tense. His muscles never seemed to relax.
“I bet Brother was a nice owner. He picked you out after all. Rescued you. I’m only here to keep looking after you for him.”
Another pause and silence.
“Kitty, do you love me like you loved Brother? I’m just as good as an owner.”
If Al couldn’t have Ed, he’d settle for leftovers.
Kitty purred, low at first, but it quickly turned into a growl. “Edward treated me like a human.” Heiderich said plainly but fast.
Al slapped him.
Kitties don’t talk.
XXX
“I wish you were real!” Al cried out, sniffling into the now wet fur of his pet. The cat’s breathing was surprisingly calm, but his expression blank, lifeless. No response whatsoever to the words that poured from Al’s mouth.
“If you were real, like me, then we could talk! You could tell me about Brother!” At the mention of Ed, his cries choked in his throat and came out strangled and pitiful into the night air.
“Talk to me Kitty! I love you too!”
Kitty just lay there, no purr, no hiss, no growl or shriek of indignity.
“Kitty, please, I look just like Brother.”
Except Al was just pining for attention. Dead men can’t give attention and leftovers are never as good as the original.
XXX
It had started out as a kink. But now Al didn’t know how to stop.
Title: Stray Kitten
Author:
esteltinuvielPairing: one-sided Alphonse x Heiderich, implied Ed x Heiderich, elricest
Rating: R--NC-17
Genre: angst, romance, non con, one-sided romance, implied kink, animal role play, AT
Words: 1519
Spoilers/Warnings: as said above, non con, implied kink and animal role play, slight movie spoilers
Summary: With Edward dead, Al finds it hard to move on living with Edward's lover and his own doppelganger
Alphonse stared at his reflection in the mirror. His gaze moved from the gentle curve of his nose and the round shape to his face, to his large eyes that shone in the pale light, then back down to his mouth, neither a smile nor a frown, and then back up to the hair that fell across his forehead.
Only, when he looked in the mirror he saw blue eyes and blonde hair.
Al curled up on the couch, pulling the cat up into his lap. He started to pet his fur, and smiled when the animal began to purr at his ministrations.
“You’re a good kitty,” he whispered, bending down so his face was closer to the cat’s. Al’s smile widened when the animal relaxed and allowed him to rub under his chin, stretching out his neck to receive the maximum rub.
“You’re not fickle like all the others, but even if you were, I’d break you of that habit.” Al’s voice held a tinge of cold, a touch of sternness that was enough to make the cat tense up again and his already fast heart rate increase rapidly so that it was beating in his chest like that of a rabbit’s as it is about to be eaten by the fox.
Al’s smile fell and he stopped petting the cat. “If you don’t want to be petted, fine, have it your way.”
Al got up. Normally, a cat would feel the owner was getting up and jump off. But Heiderich just fell to the floor.
“Kitty! Kitty, time for dinner!” Alphonse called down the hall, clanking the food dish with a spoon.
Kitty came sauntering down the hall, in no hurry despite his hunger, but gratefully stared at the dish of chicken. He bent down, too far used to eating this way to care that he was eating with his face in a food dish, mouth covered in little bits of chicken, all of his gender identifying features plainly visible to his owner.
It was cooked. Kitty tried it raw once, as it was offered to him, but Kitty threw up and was given cooked meat from then on.
Cat throw up was unpleasant to clean.
But if Kitty ate all his food and was good during dinner, Kitty would get milk. And all kitties liked milk. Or if he didn’t like it, Kitty drank it anyway. Because all kitties like milk.
Alphonse watched his kitten eat, smiling, pleased his kitten enjoyed the food. Pride welled up within him, for being able to take care of a pet. The feeling soon came crashing down. Kitty wasn’t really his. Kitty was a leftover.
Edward had died to save that damn cat and now Al was left—alone—with the stupid thing.
Al gripped the fur on Kitty’s head, tight, his own jaw clenched shut in a growl. Only Al was permitted to growl.
Kitty meowed in what Al took as—said—was pleasure even though it was Kitty lapping at the weeping milk in hopes that the full deluge of milk would come soon enough even if he dreaded that event with as much as he could dread anything in his life now.
He flicked his tongue out at the tip, lightly licking, but then used his tongue to sweep in broader strokes as if hungry for the sweet secretion that was soul crushing to taste.
Al relaxed his grip, petting and smoothing the hair and naked skin, running his hands along the backbone of his kitten, whispering words of praise. He rocked his hips into Kitty’s mouth, surprising his pet.
Kitty choked, his teeth accidentally grazing the tender flesh.
Alphonse’s reaction was visceral.
He kicked, jerking, and pushed his kitten away forcefully. Kitty recoiled in fear, flinching as the hand rose against him and came crashing down his tender skin that should have hardened and grown used to this by now. He fought the urge to hiss and bite back, harder this time, but was petrified by fear of the hand that abused his body.
“Bad Kitty! What have I told you about biting?!” Alphonse shouted at him as he shoved him from the bed.
Heiderich whimpered out a meow and waited for Al to go to bed, for only then could he curl up and nurse his bleeding wounds.
Al sobbed into his pillow. His hand stung from where he’d hit his cat, and the sound the poor animal made had twisted the knife farther into his fractured heart. His skin crawled as if infected with bugs, maggots, anything unclean and his mind reeled from the anger and abuse he’d just unleashed.
He hadn’t mean to. Honestly. He never meant to hurt his kitty. He loved his kitty.
But it wasn’t his kitty.
Heiderich was Ed’s kitty. Al wished he was Ed’s cat. But Ed was dead.
Kitty carefully crawled back up onto the bed once Al’s sobs had quieted and he had slipped into a deep sleep. He curled up against his back, nuzzling his nose into his neck.
Al’s breathing evened out and his body relaxed against his cat’s.
Calm.
Al woke up with his kitten still fast asleep against his back. He sat up slowly, so as not to disturb his pet, but the animal woke easily and soon blinked up at him.
Al hesitantly reached over and scratched Kitty behind the ears. Kitty flinched a bit, and Al drew his hand back hastily, biting his lip.
The tears came anyway.
They flowed like the blood that had seeped onto the sheets, staining them once again.
He sobbed and pulled his cat close, cradling the broken and bleeding animal in his arms with whispered words of apology and promises to never do that again, words of love and comfort. Empty words and broken promises.
Sorry never was enough.
Al let out a loud giggle as his cat tickled his bare chest. He laughed more when the cat started to knead his stomach, massaging the muscles as his paws worked the skin. Al brought his hand up, carefully, to stroke his cat’s underside, looking at Kitty’s face for signs of disapproval. But Kitty was relaxed, purring again.
“You’ve got such pretty fur,” Al murmured, petting him. “All creamy and smooth.” He trailed his hand down further, to just barely touch the tufts of dark that curled around more sensitive areas.
Kitty tensed and rolled over away from Al, curling up to protect his vulnerable underside. His bright blue eyes were wide, dilated as much as his true nature would allow, scared. His heart raced like that of a cat’s, borderline panicking.
Al pulled his kitten close. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you.” He rubbed his cat’s neck, soothingly, to calm the frightened animal. “You’re my little stray.”
Except Alphonse was the stray in need of care.
“Kitty, what was my brother like?” Al asked him, lying on his bed with his cat curled against his side. He idly petted his hair, long strokes from the top of his head down his backbone, but stopped just before he reached the tail. Or what would have been a tail, but Al had always suspected his kitty was a Manx.
Kitty’s eyes flickered up, but then back down. Kitty was silent, hardly purring at all. Al wondered if he needed to see a vet because his kitty was so silent these days.
“Was he nice to you? Gave you treats? Did he let you sleep on the bed?” Al paused, his voice going softer. “Edward would have never let my cats sleep on the bed… if I had any. “
Kitty shifted a bit, still tense. His muscles never seemed to relax.
“I bet Brother was a nice owner. He picked you out after all. Rescued you. I’m only here to keep looking after you for him.”
Another pause and silence.
“Kitty, do you love me like you loved Brother? I’m just as good as an owner.”
If Al couldn’t have Ed, he’d settle for leftovers.
Kitty purred, low at first, but it quickly turned into a growl. “Edward treated me like a human.” Heiderich said plainly but fast.
Al slapped him.
Kitties don’t talk.
“I wish you were real!” Al cried out, sniffling into the now wet fur of his pet. The cat’s breathing was surprisingly calm, but his expression blank, lifeless. No response whatsoever to the words that poured from Al’s mouth.
“If you were real, like me, then we could talk! You could tell me about Brother!” At the mention of Ed, his cries choked in his throat and came out strangled and pitiful into the night air.
“Talk to me Kitty! I love you too!”
Kitty just lay there, no purr, no hiss, no growl or shriek of indignity.
“Kitty, please, I look just like Brother.”
Except Al was just pining for attention. Dead men can’t give attention and leftovers are never as good as the original.
It had started out as a kink. But now Al didn’t know how to stop.
