Kimbley faces a power-mad Archer. (Kimbley/Archer. Sequel to Laylah's "Worth What It Cost.")
Kimbley deals with a power-mad Archer.
Sequel to Laylah's story "Worth What It Cost": http://www.ficwad.com/viewstory.php?sid=3614
Archer presses their palms together, holding Kimbley's hands against the wall on either side of his head, and leans in close. He can feel Archer's breath warm on his face. His heart pounds in his ears.
Only one of them is going to leave here alive.
"You know I wouldn't hurt you," Archer whispers, soft and coaxing like a lover, eyes glinting gunmetal cold.
Kimbley doesn't believe it for a minute. Not from Archer, not any more. He holds Archer's gaze, and mengally gauges the distance to the splintered remains of the door, trying to decide if he could get enough of a head start before Archer could work a transmutation. Archer is inexperienced with his arrays--but would that be enough of a delay? Kimbley decides not to risk it. It might be the first time he's ever been so cautious.
He's sure it's the first time he's taken the possibility of death so seriously. Those red-eyed bastards shooting at him in Ishbal, the snake bitch glaring at him like she was just waiting to strike, Greed's razor claws at his throat as they fucked, Archer holding him at gunpoint--none of that was ever this real.
Archer is the first to move, taking one hand away from Kimbley's, stroking the side of his face. Kimbley flinches and turns his head aside, but Archer persists. The burned marks are hot against his cheek.
"Haven't you ever wondered how it feels, Crimson?" Archer whispers.
Kimbley looks up again, meeting Archer's eyes. His throat is too dry to swallow, and his voice cracks when he speaks. "How what feels?"
"How it feels to be touched by you. To feel the threat of death in every one of your caresses. To be so close to power like yours, but unable to control it--unable to control /you/, if you chose not to listen." Archer's hand drops away from his face and trails down his chest, unbuttoning Kimbley's trousers and reaching in to stroke his cock. He's half hard already, and growing harder at the feel of Archer's array against his skin. Archer squeezes lightly and smiles. "Now you know."
"I didn't /want /to know how it fucking feels," Kimbley hisses, rocking into Archer's hand in spite of himself.
Archer's other hand moves to his shoulder and pushes. Kimbley slides down the wall to the floor, and, when Archer nudges further, lies back on the stained carpeting. Archer kneels between his legs, lets go long enough to tug off Kimbley's pants, and leans down.
Kimbley gasps. But it's not the feel of Archer's lips closing around his cock. It's those hands settling on his hips--the alchemical power lying dormant just beyond the surface of Archer's palms, close enough that he could almost touch it. And now, for the first time in years, he can see something more than hollow appearances and wishes, more than raw chemical bonds and fragile delusions of human importance.
Nobody he's ever known has been as real, as solid, as substantial as Archer's hands and tongue and lips feel now. It's too much, like facing the noon sun after seven years in that dark cell, like his first shot of whiskey in the Devil's Nest, like the first time he held a red stone in his hands. The intensity fucking /hurts/. Kimbley tries to pull away, clenches his fingers in Archer's hair and tries to push him back, but he's weak against Archer's tangibility.
He squeezes his eyes shut as Archer moves deeper and faster, and he screams when he comes. The room spins around him as he lies panting on the floor, and when it finally comes screeching to a halt, he's looking up into Archer's eyes.
Archer is propped on one elbow above him, one palm pressing against Kimbley's again, twining their fingers together. "God," Archer whispers, squeezing his hand. "These arrays are the most incredible thing I've ever felt. The sheer power--the way something as complex as human life just crumbles at a touch. . . . We're two of a kind now."
Kimbley doesn't reply.
"I think I finally understand you, Crimson Alchemist." Archer leans down toward him.
Kimbley turns his head aside, away from Archer's kiss. His voice shakes when he speaks. "I don't fucking want you to understand."
He isn't sure if that's a lie.
[ End ]