#19 Echoes in Winter (Fullmetal Alchemist, Archer/Kimbly)
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Archer/Kimbly
Author: forchancookie
Artist: tomoe_daeva
Theme: #19 Echoes in Winter
Summary: Colonel Archer walks on dangerous ground when he becomes infatuated with a prisoner.
Warnings: Nazi!AU, NC-17, Yaoi
Echoes in Winter
The snow had finally begun to fall in Central. Colonel Frank Archer looked up as the first delicate flakes began to dust the street. He wondered if his golden eyed pet was keeping warm in his lab or if he'd chosen to stay huddled in his bed for an extra hour, nursing the ass that he'd given a thorough pounding the day before. He wouldn't be surprised if he walked with a limp today. It always gave him such a thrill to watch him limp around the laboratory.
When Archer had first received his assignment to work at the internment camp on the outskirts of Central, he'd been furious that he would be used as a mere guard. He was a skilled soldier, an excellent shot, and a shrewd officer. He felt demeaned by the position. That was before he really got to know the job. He oversaw the research complex, which was separate from the rest of the camp. It was no ratty old shack. Instead, it was a state of the art facility with large laboratories, a library, several offices and a dormitory for the scientists. Archer had a large office with a two way mirror that allowed him to watch the scientists at work.
In that building, he was God. He controlled schedules, meals, outdoor time, guard shifts, restroom breaks, supplies, and everything else that went on. He made sure to keep up on all the research and progress of the scientists and he ran the complex smooth and tight. He always received excellent performance reviews and was regularly granted a bonus for his exemplary work. He may not have wanted the post originally, but now he realized it was a good fit for him and he was pleased with his position.
Of course, there were also some extra benefits to his position. He regularly spent time with the head researcher of the project, Dr. Zolf J. Kimblee. Kimblee was a brilliant scientist with a specialty in ballistics. Currently, they had him working on a new type of bomb that they could use against their enemies in the war. The research looked promising and Archer was sure that sometime soon he would be able to present his superiors with the means to rid the rest of the world of the filth that had contaminated it.
It was a shame that Kimblee was part of that blemish. He was a handsome man. He had a strong calm face that framed the most peculiar golden eyes that Archer had ever seen. They always burned brightly with curious emotions that Archer could only catch fleeting glances of. Pride, anger, hunger, indifference, strength, and lust. His favorite was lust.
He had never before considered himself a deviant man. He was always a model citizen that walked the right path and never strayed. Then the doctor had walked into his office in a dusty lab coat, curiously long hair pulled back haphazardly into a ponytail and a stack of files in his arms. It was the first time that his mind had ever dared to suggest that a man was beautiful. Even in the dull gray jumpers that the scientists were given to wear, Kimblee had a shine about him and he found himself bewitched.
At first, he had been angry. He took it out on the doctor by yelling at him during their meetings, restricting his meals, and having his sleep cycle disrupted. Harried, scrawny, and exhausted, Kimblee still wreaked havoc on Archer's thoughts. He probably would have continued to run the man into the ground if the doctor hadn't approached him with a deal. He offered to relieve Archer's stress in return for better treatment. Intrigued, Archer had accepted without realizing what he was getting himself into. The first time that Kimblee had caressed him, Archer punched him. The doctor had spent the night in the infirmary with a concussion and walked around with a bruise on his face for over a week.
The second time Kimblee touched him was far more successful and pleasurable. He was able to move past mere caresses and use his mouth to pleasure Archer. As promised, Archer had felt considerably less tense after Kimblee's treatment. He began receiving such treatments daily along with his progress reports. It wasn't long before Archer's curiosity had them moving beyond oral pleasures to whole new realms of sensation. The first time that he entered Kimblee he thought that surely he had found the paradise that their ancestors had been banished from eons ago.
Having Kimblee's tight body squirming beneath his own seemed to stoke a primal fire within him and soon he had begun to think of the doctor as his own, his conquest, his l... No, he couldn't use such a word. As much as he enjoyed the trysts, to put such a label on their activities was to step off of the straight line that he had always walked. Now, it was a mere dalliance, but to title what they had was to step onto the side of the damned. He could not do that for he was one of those Chosen people. He considered himself a man of privilege to work for the Fuhrer ,while Kimblee was nothing more than dirt that was left to barter like a beggar with the only thing he owned, his body. And even that did not fully belong to him as Archer could take it at any time without permission, though he did not choose to do so. It was more pleasurable when Kimblee was a willing participant.
Kimblee had a fine body, but it was still unclean. Archer went home each night and cleansed himself of the filth in a hot bath. He drank strong alcohol to flush his system of any lingering trace of the man and he always gave thanks to his maker that he was Chosen and asked to remain pure despite straying. Each new day, he would again, partake of that which had been set before him. It seemed a waste not to indulge. As long as he continued to cleanse himself and did not get too attached, it worked out well.
Archer passed a second hand store and turned as a flash of red caught his eye. In the window, a deep burgundy coat was wrapped around a tailor's dummy. Though he had never seen the man wear colors other than gray and white, he knew that this color would suit Kimblee. Just yesterday, the man had been complaining about the cold. He had been coming down with a chill because the standard issue jacket did little to keep him warm on his precious walks in the yard of the compound. As they lay together, curled on the lounge chair that Archer had recently put in the office for just such a purpose, Kimblee quietly asked if perhaps Archer could acquire a warmer coat for him to wear.
In the past, Archer had gifted him with thick socks, long underwear, and his own handed down boots, but never had he given the man anything so obvious as a jacket. He was aware that some of the soldiers in the main camp would give gifts to the women that pleased them, but such things did not happen at his compound. Yet, he could not afford to get sick because he allowed Kimblee to become ill. Besides, the prisoners in the main camps were lower than scum, while the scientists under his care were more like pets. They were kept better and were occasionally rewarded when their research proved useful.
Archer decided that Kimblee had been a model of good behavior lately and as such, he could be given a reward. With his mind made up, Archer went into the store and purchased the burgundy coat. The shop owner wrapped it in brown paper and tied it with twine and wished him a good day. Archer nodded and left the shop, imagining how Kimblee would look wrapped up in the fine red wool.
The light snow became heavier as Archer walked past the regular camp towards his own complex. As he neared, he heard voices raised in mocking jeers from the exercise yard. He frowned. His men were much more disciplined than the men of the main camp. They were not ones to behave like heathens. The men at the gate gave him curious looks as he was admitted into the complex. Ignoring them, he stalked towards the exercise yard where a knot of soldiers had gathered. No one was guarding the gate to the exercise yard. Archer angrily marched into the yard.
"What is the meaning of this?" He shouted, his voice snapping like a whip in the cold winter air. He watched their backs tense as they turned around to face the wrath of their commander.
The men gave him a hesitant salute as they stood at attention. They stood in close ranks, blocking something from his view. With narrowed eyes, he stalked forward and stared down two men until they moved out of his way to reveal a prone form. Though bloodied and bruised, the naked body on the snow was instantly recognizable as Kimblee. He bore purple black bruises in the shape of fists and boots and blood stained the snow around him. His long hair had been shaved off and lay in clumps on the ground.
All thoughts of berating his men fled as he Archer knelt beside Kimblee and turned the man over. His eyes were swollen shut and his nose obviously broken. At least one of his teeth had been knocked out and blood had dried to his face. Despite his dreadful condition, Kimblee parted his cut and swollen lips to release a sound that might have been his name. Archer pursed his lips angrily and tore at the brown paper that was wrapped around the burgundy coat. He draped it over Kimblee's body and gathered the man into his arms.
As Archer stood, he turned back to his soldiers and speared them all with his icy gaze. "I don't know what is going on here, but this will not go unpunished," he said.
"You're right sir. It won't."
Archer staggered back as though he'd been pushed. There was a crack of thunder in the air followed by a blossom of pain in his shoulder. The men were shooting at him! His knee exploded in agony and he tumbled to the frozen earth, dropping Kimblee. The man never let out a sound. Archer hit the frozen earth awkwardly. His body was riddled with pain, but he still looked up to check on Kimblee. The burgundy coat was changing colors and the snow that touched it turned pink. He realized that that first push had been a shot at Kimblee; a killing shot. What landed on the ground was no longer a bewitchingly beautiful scientist, but a mere corpse.
As he lay there, his shock faded and his training kicked in as he reached for his gun. The action was short lived as someone shot him in the arm. He bit through his lip as the pain lanced through him. The shots ceased and he looked up as the men gathered around him.
One of the men knelt in front of him and grabbed his hair, tugging him up to look at his face. "Are you confused sir? You look confused." He turned Archer's head violently, forcing him to look down at Kimblee's battered face. "This is trash. When you partake of trash, you become trash. You have sullied the position you hold and insulted the Fuhrer that trusted you with that position. You are no longer one of the Chosen people! You are nothing but trash!" He dropped Archer with a disgusted sound. "We are reclaiming the honor of this complex. No, the honor of the Fuhrer and all those who are Chosen!" He stepped back and signaled to the others.
The air crackled angrily as another round of bullets ripped through his flesh. As the echoes died, the pain in his body began to fade. His vision blurred as he stared at the burgundy coat he had bought for a man he feared to call his lover. His fingers twitched as he moved them to touch the hand that had caressed him so intimately. He thought that there were worse things he could die for. One final shot echoed through the yard and Archer joined his lover.
Pairing: Archer/Kimbly
Author: forchancookie
Artist: tomoe_daeva
Theme: #19 Echoes in Winter
Summary: Colonel Archer walks on dangerous ground when he becomes infatuated with a prisoner.
Warnings: Nazi!AU, NC-17, Yaoi
Echoes in Winter
The snow had finally begun to fall in Central. Colonel Frank Archer looked up as the first delicate flakes began to dust the street. He wondered if his golden eyed pet was keeping warm in his lab or if he'd chosen to stay huddled in his bed for an extra hour, nursing the ass that he'd given a thorough pounding the day before. He wouldn't be surprised if he walked with a limp today. It always gave him such a thrill to watch him limp around the laboratory.
When Archer had first received his assignment to work at the internment camp on the outskirts of Central, he'd been furious that he would be used as a mere guard. He was a skilled soldier, an excellent shot, and a shrewd officer. He felt demeaned by the position. That was before he really got to know the job. He oversaw the research complex, which was separate from the rest of the camp. It was no ratty old shack. Instead, it was a state of the art facility with large laboratories, a library, several offices and a dormitory for the scientists. Archer had a large office with a two way mirror that allowed him to watch the scientists at work.
In that building, he was God. He controlled schedules, meals, outdoor time, guard shifts, restroom breaks, supplies, and everything else that went on. He made sure to keep up on all the research and progress of the scientists and he ran the complex smooth and tight. He always received excellent performance reviews and was regularly granted a bonus for his exemplary work. He may not have wanted the post originally, but now he realized it was a good fit for him and he was pleased with his position.
Of course, there were also some extra benefits to his position. He regularly spent time with the head researcher of the project, Dr. Zolf J. Kimblee. Kimblee was a brilliant scientist with a specialty in ballistics. Currently, they had him working on a new type of bomb that they could use against their enemies in the war. The research looked promising and Archer was sure that sometime soon he would be able to present his superiors with the means to rid the rest of the world of the filth that had contaminated it.
It was a shame that Kimblee was part of that blemish. He was a handsome man. He had a strong calm face that framed the most peculiar golden eyes that Archer had ever seen. They always burned brightly with curious emotions that Archer could only catch fleeting glances of. Pride, anger, hunger, indifference, strength, and lust. His favorite was lust.
He had never before considered himself a deviant man. He was always a model citizen that walked the right path and never strayed. Then the doctor had walked into his office in a dusty lab coat, curiously long hair pulled back haphazardly into a ponytail and a stack of files in his arms. It was the first time that his mind had ever dared to suggest that a man was beautiful. Even in the dull gray jumpers that the scientists were given to wear, Kimblee had a shine about him and he found himself bewitched.
At first, he had been angry. He took it out on the doctor by yelling at him during their meetings, restricting his meals, and having his sleep cycle disrupted. Harried, scrawny, and exhausted, Kimblee still wreaked havoc on Archer's thoughts. He probably would have continued to run the man into the ground if the doctor hadn't approached him with a deal. He offered to relieve Archer's stress in return for better treatment. Intrigued, Archer had accepted without realizing what he was getting himself into. The first time that Kimblee had caressed him, Archer punched him. The doctor had spent the night in the infirmary with a concussion and walked around with a bruise on his face for over a week.
The second time Kimblee touched him was far more successful and pleasurable. He was able to move past mere caresses and use his mouth to pleasure Archer. As promised, Archer had felt considerably less tense after Kimblee's treatment. He began receiving such treatments daily along with his progress reports. It wasn't long before Archer's curiosity had them moving beyond oral pleasures to whole new realms of sensation. The first time that he entered Kimblee he thought that surely he had found the paradise that their ancestors had been banished from eons ago.
Having Kimblee's tight body squirming beneath his own seemed to stoke a primal fire within him and soon he had begun to think of the doctor as his own, his conquest, his l... No, he couldn't use such a word. As much as he enjoyed the trysts, to put such a label on their activities was to step off of the straight line that he had always walked. Now, it was a mere dalliance, but to title what they had was to step onto the side of the damned. He could not do that for he was one of those Chosen people. He considered himself a man of privilege to work for the Fuhrer ,while Kimblee was nothing more than dirt that was left to barter like a beggar with the only thing he owned, his body. And even that did not fully belong to him as Archer could take it at any time without permission, though he did not choose to do so. It was more pleasurable when Kimblee was a willing participant.
Kimblee had a fine body, but it was still unclean. Archer went home each night and cleansed himself of the filth in a hot bath. He drank strong alcohol to flush his system of any lingering trace of the man and he always gave thanks to his maker that he was Chosen and asked to remain pure despite straying. Each new day, he would again, partake of that which had been set before him. It seemed a waste not to indulge. As long as he continued to cleanse himself and did not get too attached, it worked out well.
Archer passed a second hand store and turned as a flash of red caught his eye. In the window, a deep burgundy coat was wrapped around a tailor's dummy. Though he had never seen the man wear colors other than gray and white, he knew that this color would suit Kimblee. Just yesterday, the man had been complaining about the cold. He had been coming down with a chill because the standard issue jacket did little to keep him warm on his precious walks in the yard of the compound. As they lay together, curled on the lounge chair that Archer had recently put in the office for just such a purpose, Kimblee quietly asked if perhaps Archer could acquire a warmer coat for him to wear.
In the past, Archer had gifted him with thick socks, long underwear, and his own handed down boots, but never had he given the man anything so obvious as a jacket. He was aware that some of the soldiers in the main camp would give gifts to the women that pleased them, but such things did not happen at his compound. Yet, he could not afford to get sick because he allowed Kimblee to become ill. Besides, the prisoners in the main camps were lower than scum, while the scientists under his care were more like pets. They were kept better and were occasionally rewarded when their research proved useful.
Archer decided that Kimblee had been a model of good behavior lately and as such, he could be given a reward. With his mind made up, Archer went into the store and purchased the burgundy coat. The shop owner wrapped it in brown paper and tied it with twine and wished him a good day. Archer nodded and left the shop, imagining how Kimblee would look wrapped up in the fine red wool.
The light snow became heavier as Archer walked past the regular camp towards his own complex. As he neared, he heard voices raised in mocking jeers from the exercise yard. He frowned. His men were much more disciplined than the men of the main camp. They were not ones to behave like heathens. The men at the gate gave him curious looks as he was admitted into the complex. Ignoring them, he stalked towards the exercise yard where a knot of soldiers had gathered. No one was guarding the gate to the exercise yard. Archer angrily marched into the yard.
"What is the meaning of this?" He shouted, his voice snapping like a whip in the cold winter air. He watched their backs tense as they turned around to face the wrath of their commander.
The men gave him a hesitant salute as they stood at attention. They stood in close ranks, blocking something from his view. With narrowed eyes, he stalked forward and stared down two men until they moved out of his way to reveal a prone form. Though bloodied and bruised, the naked body on the snow was instantly recognizable as Kimblee. He bore purple black bruises in the shape of fists and boots and blood stained the snow around him. His long hair had been shaved off and lay in clumps on the ground.
All thoughts of berating his men fled as he Archer knelt beside Kimblee and turned the man over. His eyes were swollen shut and his nose obviously broken. At least one of his teeth had been knocked out and blood had dried to his face. Despite his dreadful condition, Kimblee parted his cut and swollen lips to release a sound that might have been his name. Archer pursed his lips angrily and tore at the brown paper that was wrapped around the burgundy coat. He draped it over Kimblee's body and gathered the man into his arms.
As Archer stood, he turned back to his soldiers and speared them all with his icy gaze. "I don't know what is going on here, but this will not go unpunished," he said.
"You're right sir. It won't."
Archer staggered back as though he'd been pushed. There was a crack of thunder in the air followed by a blossom of pain in his shoulder. The men were shooting at him! His knee exploded in agony and he tumbled to the frozen earth, dropping Kimblee. The man never let out a sound. Archer hit the frozen earth awkwardly. His body was riddled with pain, but he still looked up to check on Kimblee. The burgundy coat was changing colors and the snow that touched it turned pink. He realized that that first push had been a shot at Kimblee; a killing shot. What landed on the ground was no longer a bewitchingly beautiful scientist, but a mere corpse.
As he lay there, his shock faded and his training kicked in as he reached for his gun. The action was short lived as someone shot him in the arm. He bit through his lip as the pain lanced through him. The shots ceased and he looked up as the men gathered around him.
One of the men knelt in front of him and grabbed his hair, tugging him up to look at his face. "Are you confused sir? You look confused." He turned Archer's head violently, forcing him to look down at Kimblee's battered face. "This is trash. When you partake of trash, you become trash. You have sullied the position you hold and insulted the Fuhrer that trusted you with that position. You are no longer one of the Chosen people! You are nothing but trash!" He dropped Archer with a disgusted sound. "We are reclaiming the honor of this complex. No, the honor of the Fuhrer and all those who are Chosen!" He stepped back and signaled to the others.
The air crackled angrily as another round of bullets ripped through his flesh. As the echoes died, the pain in his body began to fade. His vision blurred as he stared at the burgundy coat he had bought for a man he feared to call his lover. His fingers twitched as he moved them to touch the hand that had caressed him so intimately. He thought that there were worse things he could die for. One final shot echoed through the yard and Archer joined his lover.