Better Living Through Alchemy

Daniel Stanton, age thirteen, profession: note passer.

The steady click of the chalk connecting with the blackboard didn’t waver, but the yellow eyes of the Professor moved suddenly, running over his temples, above his ears and onto the back of his head, where they parted the ponytail hanging there with their incredible telekinetic eye-beam rays and stared right at Daniel Stanton, hand hanging between his and Eric Danvers’ desk, pinning him mercilessly.

“Mr. Stanton,” the Professor said, “would you care to share the wisdom you’ve so dutifully jotted down on that piece of paper, and seem in desperate need to share with Mr. Danvers, with the rest of the class?”

Daniel swallowed and fidgeted nervously, eyes darting to his companions. Eric sat rigid, eyes straight ahead, all too familiar with the cold wrath of their teacher’s yellow eyes. They seemed to have the ability to peer deep into one’s own cranium to instantly decipher any off topic thought lurking there. The way he could sniff out mischief, fear or a hidden sandwich were uncanny reminders of just who their teacher was: the legend of the dime-store novels.

Duffy, (that would be Henry Duffy, but looked so little like a Henry and so much like a Duffy, everyone just called him that), was also sitting at attention now, practically saluting. Daniel thought the lot of them traitors and knew he was to face the firing squad on his own. He sat back up slowly, tucked his hands into his lap, wet his lips and then braved speech.

“No, Professor Elric,” he said to divine retribution’s back, “I would rather not.”

Eric darted him a quick sidelong glance that spoke of his admiration for Daniel’s bravery and how he would prepare an eloquent speech for his funeral.

The figure at the black board continued out its equation to the end and then pocketed its stick of chalk. It turned to its desk and laid down the open text book it had been balancing in its right hand. Then, with a casual stride, it rounded its desk and started down the row of student desks, each heel step clicking out the doom of its intended victim. Said victim, in a fit of insane bravery or suicidal resignation, worked his hands furiously in his lap, tearing the small square of paper into as many tiny bits as he could, crushing them tightly in his sweaty fist. He saw the lower half of the Professor stop just before his desk and tried to lift his head to meet those strange eyes, but the magnet of fear had already worked its magic on his chin and was drawing it hard, down to his chest.

A white, gloved hand extended (the real hand, Daniel noted). The Professor always saved the scary (but really cool) metal hand for special occasions. Daniel saw the fingers move slightly, just once, the signal that patience was ending and a hauling out of the classroom by the ear would be imminent. Daniel swallowed and overcame the magnetic fear-field surrounding his body and lifted his hands slowly, gritting his teeth as he struggled against the foot soldiers of doom guarding the pathways of his nerves. He managed to get a message through to central command to tell his hand to unclench, which it did, dropping the ball of paper shreds into the white, gloved palm.

“Ah, what’s this?” the Professor said above his head, “it seems your note has had a mishap. I think this can be remedied… and used as a practical demonstration at the same time.”

There was now general (if polite) excitement as the Professor kneeled next to Daniel’s desk and the whole classroom began to gather around. Daniel found himself meeting the gaze of the man, raging inwardly at the smirk on his features, and realizing just what a pointless gesture tearing up the note actually was. Not only had he done the forbidden off-topic gesture, it would now be even more of a spectacle than if he’d just handed the note over quietly and took what was coming to him. The Professor was a man who loved to revel in audacity, for he had plenty of it himself, and he wasn’t above a little public humiliation to get his point across. In fact, he seemed to be living out some vindictive streak in that direction, seeing as how many a boy in the class had worn shame-reddened cheeks since the beginning of the school year, and that had only been a month ago.

But Daniel despaired of this particular shame, knowing it was not only going to cause trouble for himself, but for a friend, a friend he would give anything to protect. If he’d only handed the note over, not tried to mask it in useless subterfuge, he might have stood a better chance of reasoning the Professor out of reading it aloud. The man was, no matter how rigid on certain things, very fair. He watched gloomily as the Professor drew a simple chalk circle on the floor and then began to add into it the elements needed to reconstruct the paper.

“What are we doing?” the Professor asked the class in general.

Seth Winston, age twelve, profession: suck-up.

Seth’s hand was in the air almost before the questions left Professor Elric’s lips. The Professor hesitated a moment, waiting for other hands (of which he got a few) before calling on Seth, because his hand was up first and fair is fair.

“Understanding, deconstruction, reconstruction!” the boy in the thick glasses chirped, looking hopeful and leaning over his desk.

“Very good, it’s nice to know the lot of you do pay attention,” and he looked pointedly at Daniel as he said it, drawing another symbol in the circle. “What is this symbol?” he asked in general again. This time he skipped Seth and instead looked at Daniel’s own little gang of supporters, of which Duffy had begun to sweat profusely.

“Henry,” the Professor said, “would you care to take a closer look and hazard a guess?” he prodded.

Duffy squirmed around in his chair, his already straining uniform pulling at his middle and opening the vista of the white undershirt beneath the buttons wider for all to see. Daniel set his jaw, it was really unfair of the Professor to make his mistake Duffy’s as well. Daniel’s peripheral vision caught movement and so must have Professor Elric’s, because he turned his head to look at Eric across the isle and Eric’s face went a shade paler than the fish belly white it already was. His lips became a quivering line, he’d been pantomiming to Duffy, or at least trying to. Daniel doubted Duffy would have a clue as to what the word pantomime meant, but now he was caught out as well.

“Is there something you’d like to add, Eric Danvers?” the Professor’s voice was just this side of frigid and Eric shook his head frantically, pleading to Daniel with his eyes for a brief second.

I am not a coward, Daniel Stanton told himself and with that, found his voice.

“It’s the symbol for ‘earth’, Professor,” he said loudly. The yellow eyes swung to him and the matching eyebrows rose slightly, “because paper is made from wood and that would be the… equiv… equiva…” he tried.

“Equivalent,” the Professor supplied, looking thoughtful for a moment and then let Eric and Duffy go, “That’s partially right, at any rate.”

The Professor placed the little ball of shreds in the circle and everyone (Daniel included. How could you not hold your breath and feel the rush? The FullMetal Alchemist was about to perform Alchemy for your own private viewing pleasure!) leaned forward in wide-eyed anticipation, many jockeying-for-position battles ensued.

Like he always did, the Professor waited for the room to settle before touching his fingers to the edge of the circle. White and blue flares arced up and leapt for the ceiling, there were many appreciative gasps and one small groan of denial.

The folded note lay good as new in the middle of the circle.

***

Alphonse strode into the office, saluting as he walked. The Colonel was elsewhere in the building, but it was always polite to offer acknowledgements. First Lieutenant Pharr gave him a jaunty one right back as the young alchemist came over to the table and took a seat.

“How was the trip?” Pharr asked, eager to take a break from his paperwork and leaning on the table.

“Did you find out anything about our mystery creature?” Second Lieutenant Marilyn Harper asked from her end of the table. Alphonse grinned at her; she was pretty and sweet, always proficient and inquisitive, and just as hungry for knowledge as Alphonse in some things. If she wasn’t a fellow officer, he would even consider asking her on a date, but this woman was being molded under the formidable eye of her idol Colonel Hawkeye (and a very impressive idol to have… next to the Pirate) and would recite to him by rote military protocol, just as the Colonel did. So, Alphonse has already placed her firmly into the category of ‘friend’, as he had the General’s friend Anna Wagoner, when he’d first met her.

“No, it was a bust,” Alphonse sighed, and since the Colonel wasn’t in the office, he allowed himself the luxury of leaning his chin on the table, “Whatever it is, the locals all have varying stories about it. I’m hoping it’s not some suffering chimera. I felt bad I had to leave and come back to make the trip to Central this weekend, but it’s waited this long, it can wait a little longer.”

“Been out with April again?” Pharr asked, thrusting work aside for the more important things, at least the more important things while the Colonel wasn’t in attendance.

“Oh,” Al said with a shrug, “No. She was nice and all, but I’ve been busy and well then there was this mission…”

Pharr sat back in his chair and folded his arms, studied Al frankly and rubbed his chin.

“I think it’s the ponytail,” Pharr said, “It makes you look pretty young. Maybe if you cut it off?” he suggested.

Al sat up and reached back to finger the length of hair hanging down the back of his neck. He hadn’t even thought about it for a while, as long as it was tied back it was easy to keep out of his way and he trimmed his bangs himself. Would cutting it off really make him look older? Wait, what was Pharr inferring here? Was his ability to score zero written so plainly on his features?

“I like Al’s ponytail,” Marilyn offered, “his hair is lovely, I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t show it off by wearing it long, his brother does.”

That was a double edged compliment. On one hand, Marilyn liked his ponytail, the justification he needed to keep it; on the other hand, Marilyn inferred it reminded him of Ed, an association he didn’t want to break in the brotherly sense but one he wanted distance from. He wanted to be Alphonse Elric, not Edward Elric’s little brother.


The Colonel came striding in then and nodded at the table with a slight smile; Alphonse always liked to think the smile was there because he was. He tapped his fingers on the table a moment then, made a decision, stood and walked to the big desk.

“Sir, have you a moment, if you’re not busy? It’s more of a personal question as opposed to military business,” he said.

The Colonel gave him a nod as she slid into her seat behind her desk and laid her meeting notes in front of her.

“Of course, Alphonse. You know that I’m here for you, is something bothering you?” she asked with polite sincerity.

Alphonse fidgeted now, feeling ridiculous from bringing up such a frivolous subject, but she’s gone to the trouble of giving him her attention, he had to follow through. Why is it she could make him feel twelve again without even trying?

“I was wondering if you,” he took a deep breath and plunged ahead, “think my hair would look better short?” he tried to look very sincere and contemplative on the subject, as if it held great weight and only the wise counsel of his superior officer could help to ease his burdened mind.

Her eyebrows lifted just a fraction; Alphonse knew this was ‘surprise’. She was so frustratingly hard to read he was surprised he had any categorized facial references for her at all, but this was most definitely ‘surprised’. He’d seen it before when he was fourteen and had been caught hanging upside down from a vent duct outside the mess hall that he’d tried to crawl through to prove to himself that he could. For some reason he always thought he was too big… and pointy.

“Well Alphonse,” he got a little thrill at her use of his given name, but she always used it when the business was personal and not military, “I think that decision really lies with you. I think you have nice hair and you always wear it so neatly that it’s not a true breach of dress code since longer hair is allowable in the ranks.”

Her advice was really no advice at all, just a gentle nudge for him to make his own decision, which was proper and in the long run the only one that mattered. It was so typical of her to be so wise and caring, but wait; did she perhaps intimate she liked his long hair? She said it was ‘allowable’ and ‘not a breach of protocol’, and that in itself spoke volumes of her acceptance. If she took the trouble to notice she liked his longer hair, then perhaps in that turn, she meant she liked him. Unbidden, his mind turned to this incredible revelation.

If she liked his hair (and therefore liked him), then maybe she was just biding her time, waiting for his decommission and resignation, and then, on that very day, he could rush back to East City and ask her on a date. He would be eighteen then and he just wouldn’t tell Ed what he was doing. His mind’s eye suddenly traipsed to a scene of him entering her office, dressed in a dark and somber, conservative manner to her liking, hair pulled back neatly and shoes shiny. He would approach her desk and salute her out of respect even though he was no longer enlisted. Magically, his voice would have dropped even further by then, perhaps he’d be even taller (even though he was a bit taller than she was right now), and he would have coached himself through his proposal of dinner and movie?, dancing?, firing range?, by then.

She would do her surprised eyebrow twitch and then she might hesitate, considering her options, but in the end, because she had always liked him, (and his hair) she would agree. Then Alphonse Elric would truly be a man, not a boy or a shadow of his famous brother. He lifted his clenched fist and put it over his heart, eyes shining, sucking in his bottom lip. Yes, these could be the happiest moments of his life (next to getting Ed back) and he would cherish them forever.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” a voice lifted him from his haze of euphoria, “was there anything else you needed to ask me?” she said in a prodding manner. Alphonse snapped to and saluted, feeling his cheeks heat up. He wondered miserably how long had he been standing there looking like a complete fool.

“Nu... no. Thank you, Colonel. I need to go pack and get to the train station,” he said faintly, feeling the heat of his blush skip gleefully from his cheeks to his neck.

“Very well then, you are dismissed for the day. Catch an early afternoon train, and say hello to your brother and the General for me,” she said in her usual conversational tones, a blessing she was not making him twitch since she had him pinned. Ed needed lessons from the woman.

Alphonse dropped his salute and bowed forward a bit, turned, avoided looking at the big table as not to meet Pharr’s mirthful, glinted eyes and fled the office as fast as an orderly walk would take him.

Unlike home, or the General’s office in Central, no unbridled shout of laughter that had just been barely contained in his presence erupted after he got into the hall.

She was the consummate professional, after all.

***

Practicing arrays should be illegal. It was so very, exceedingly, dull.

At least to a group of boys in a classroom in an academy where a man with yellow eyes watched them like they might be edible, seeming to smirk when they trembled.

The note incident had ended with a surprising anti-climax. The Professor had opened the note, scanned it quickly, refolded it and stuck it in his pocket with a brief look at Daniel Stanton that said discussion was clearly to follow, just not in front of the class. Daniel had watched the Professor walk back to his desk with his own jaw slack in amazement. When the Professor told them to get out their sketchbooks and practice arrays, he leapt to do so out of gratitude and a sudden feeling of camaraderie. He would have to thank the Professor profusely after class for not making him into a laughing stock.

The classroom door swung partially open and every pair of eyes in the room, including the Professor’s swung toward it. A man leaned in the doorway and looked around, then stepped into the classroom and put his hands on his trim hips, smiling at the boys.

He had on a tailored looking sweat suit of all things. His dark hair was immaculate and his jaw was square; his smile was shiny, white and bright and when he spoke, his voice was deep and authoritative, but a touch jovial and soothing, like he was your best friend, or your father, or idol.

“Say boys,” he said, “I’m looking for Professor Edric,” he intoned, “has he stepped out of the class?”

Bernard Martin, whose desk it was the Professor had stopped at when the door opened, made a sound like a small trapped animal and tried vainly to become one with his wooden chair, cringing away from the figure in front of him. Steel fingers drummed once on his desktop. There was a small collective gasp and scooting of desk chairs all around that vicinity, they all knew what a slighted Professor could do, having witnessed it themselves on the very first day of class.

***

Daniel and his gang were all hanging around a center group of desks they had pushed together when he walked in. He was dressed in civvies, not a uniform, and he had a ponytail, like a girl. It had been one long, endless summer of his mother’s social gatherings and his father’s attempts at bonding; he was just itching to get back into the swing of academy life, where his could flex and posture and impress his companions, effectively shaking off all the culture his parents had rubbed all over him during his free months. So, when the new kid walked in, looking a little lost and inquisitive, he was sure his school year would be far from dull.

They’d gestured to him. He had funny yellow eyes, kind of like a cat, and he arched his eyebrow once before heading over slowly, walking up to the group and looking at them one by one. He and Daniel stood eye to eye, while Eric towered over them both in his gawky fashion, but the new guy didn’t look up at him either. Duffy was almost eye to eye with him, and Seth, actually being a year younger than the rest of them, came just to his nose. They all eyed him back, taking in his clothes, his hair, and offering in return a challenging smirk, well practiced in the tradition of schoolyard pecking order.

“What’s with the clothes,” Daniel said, “uniform in the wash? It’s first day, you know, you had time to get it clean, or you ain’t got one yet?” he drawled.

A lazy smirk of his own cut across the guy’s mouth as he put his hands on his hips. That’s when Daniel noticed the gloves and his own challenging grin widened.

“Did your Mom dress you? You know we aren’t that formal around here, would hate to see those dainty white gloves get dirty,” Daniel furthered before the new guy got a word in edgewise.

The other three chuckled appreciatively. Daniel was the wittiest among them, capable of deadly, lightening fast come backs. They rarely challenged him.

The new guy’s grin had gone slowly into a scowl and his yellow eyes seemed to brighten. He seemed to have trouble with his jaw, because he had it clenched real tight and he had just a bit of a shake, like he was holding something in. He flared his nostrils to release the steam of his inner turmoil and Daniel folded his arms, wondering how long he could hold out as he started preparing another round of barbs for the next step into the ring, but the class bell rang first.

They were soldier’s kids after all. Immediately, desks began to realign themselves and everyone had already scuffled over where they were going to sit, but Daniel had an idea for the new guy and thought he should share it.

“Why don’t you sit up front, Ponytail,” he snickered, “with your girly looks and fancy suit you got teacher’s pet written all over you,” his gang of three snickered along with him as they gave the new guy mocking glances before retreating to their own seats.

Ponytail stood stock still for several long moments, still with that tight-jawed look of struggling for control, then he began to stalk toward the front of the class. He got a few catcall whistles and comments about his hair on the way, other boys picking up on Daniel’s glee, but he threw himself into a desk at the very front of the classroom and stared straight ahead, panting.

They all waited in silence, but after long moments had slipped by and no Professor seemed to be forth coming, a low murmur descended over the class again.

“Do you really think it’s the real FullMetal Alchemist?” Boyd Harding said from the back of the room, “I mean, you know, like the one in the books?”

Ponytail made a visible jerk at this, but remained silent, staring straight ahead. Daniel leaned back, lacing his fingers and putting them behind his head, stretching his legs out as far as he could.

“Let’s ask Ponytail. A guy dressed up like that should be really smart,” he threw out. Now that he had a victim, his school year would be complete, “do you know if he’s the real FullMetal Alchemist, Ponytail?” Daniel called up to the front of the class.

“If it is, he’s got to be really old,” Seth supplied, “my older brother read all those books forever ago,” because when you are twelve, two or three years is forever.

“Do you think he’ll have Alphonse with him, or we’ll get to meet him?” Richard Timbers asked, “I always liked Al, but they never did much with him. You think the FullMetal Alchemist will let us meet him and see his steam-powered suit of armor?”

There was much pondering and speculation about that, with general murmurs and knowing nods, crossing of arms and teenage beating of chests. Even if their teacher was the real, legendary, FullMetal Alchemist, they were still younger, smarter and in Academy (even though it would be really cool to like, brag that your teacher was the FullMetal Alchemist). They hadn’t met a professor, doctor or instructor they couldn’t drive to distraction yet.

Ponytail suddenly stood up and Daniel locked on target.

“You’re going to get your pansy-ass in trouble if the FullMetal Alchemist catches you out of your seat when he comes in,” Daniel offered with evil glee, “no matter how pretty you are in your ponytail,” he chortled.

Ponytail seemed to have gotten himself under control, for he marched to the big desk, turned to face the class and shrugged of his jacket, lying it on the desk. As he began to unbutton his vest, every eyebrow in the classroom climbed rapidly and all attention became riveted at the front of the class where the new guy, dubbed Ponytail, seemed intent on giving them a strip tease.

The vest followed the jacket onto the desk, then a tie, then the dress shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, but before it came off, Ponytail slowly and methodically peeled off his gloves one by one. The front of the class, that could see better, let out a sudden explosive gasp. Daniel watched as Ponytail shucked out of his shirt and glinted in the dull overhead light. His teeth became sharp, his tongue long and forked, and his eyes turned from cat-yellow to scary, fire-molten orbs. He held up his right arm, his automail, METAL, right arm and with volume enough to cause the desks to jump, Ponytail proclaimed once and for all.

“YES, HE IS THE REAL FUCKING FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST”, his forked tongue slithered in and out of his cavernous mouth. He walked around his desk then, bare-chested, raised the arm and slammed it down on the desk. The desk shrieked like a girl, making a sound like every tree in the vicinity was crying out in pain, as he pinned them again with evil light seeping from under his eyelids.

“ARE THERE ANYMORE QUESTIONS?! ABOUT MY HAIR, ABOUT MY CLOTHES, ABOUT MY HEIGHT (even though no one had mentioned that) THAT I NEED TO ANSWER BEFORE WE GET STARTED?!” he howled.

No one could think of a blessed one.

***

The man barging in on his class (marked for death, obviously) came in and looked the Professor over with an indulgent chuckle.

“You can go on back to your seat, I won’t tell him you were wandering about,” he said in that, ‘I’m your buddy’ kind of way adults do when they think they are doing you a favor, “and what’s with the civilian clothes? Uniform in the wash?”

Gibbers of fear were heard all around. The man looked around, confused, as the Professor turned to face him slowly. Bernard appeared to faint and slump over his desk, and the man raised his eyebrow, looking at the Professor again.

“Is there something wrong with this boy? Should we fetch the school doctor?” he asked.

Maybe for YOU, several minds though at once.

“He’s fine,” the Professor hissed in a voice that made every adolescent nightmare half remembered in every adolescent brain in the room writhe in jealousy, “I’m Professor ELRIC,” the Professor annunciated loudly, “to what do I owe this pleasure,” he snarled.

The man looked Ed up and down for a moment, then held out his hand and grinned. There were several more gasps and winces because the boys had never seen a real live dismemberment before and watched through opened fingers even as they covered their faces with their hands.

“I’m Professor Thaddeus Taylor, but you can call me Thad.” he grinned a most charming grin and yet still managed to make it look slimy. The Professor forced his hand up and took the other man’s, shaking it once before releasing it and looking like he wanted to wipe his glove on something.

“Edward Elric, Professor Elric is fine. You are standing in my Alchemic Basics class and I’m wondering why,” the Professor grated out.

“You know, from your rep I thought you’d be taller, but as they say, big things in small packages. You caused quite the buzz in the staff room, let me tell you,” and he patted the Professor’s shoulder in that manner one does when one is humoring someone they are looking down on. The man continued on, seemingly oblivious to the gathering storm clouds in the room and several boys wondered if they could make running dives through the window in time to avoid the blast, but one boy was becoming more and more incensed with the casual and condescending way this man was treating their Professor. Ok, their Professor? When did that happen? When he didn’t rat you out to the class, you dork? You know if that equivalent exchange thing was really true you had that coming for the whole ‘Ponytail’ thing, but never mind that, he can’t talk to him like this, what does he think he’s doing… Before Daniel Stanton knew it, his voice rang out loud and clear, silencing the man standing with the Professor.

“He’s the FullMetal Alchemist,” Daniel said, proud and defiant, “Just who the heck are you?” he flung out. His eyes widened when he realized he was talking to teachers and that he had stood up while he was doing it. He started to sink back down before Divine Retribution could light into him, but from the look on the Professor’s face, the odd little look, Daniel got the feeling that wasn’t going to happen.

“Yeah, “ the Professor said, suddenly with a big cocky grin, “Who the hell are you anyway, Thad?”

The man removed is hand from the Professor’s shoulder, looking a little taken aback, but then his grin returned full force.

“Why, I’m the physical education instructor,” he said, “I’m here to see if you’d lend me my boy Boyd there,” Professor Taylor pointed and Boyd, as large as he was (a good head and half over the professor and just as broad, if not broader, at the shoulder), tried to make himself small, as not to provoke the Professor’s ire, that this person who was harassing him in his very own classroom was acknowledging an acquaintance with him.

“Why?” the Professor said, looking at Boyd in a reassuring fashion that said ‘Just because this man is a moron, I won’t hold it against you’.

“He’s our new lineman and we’re having a meeting down the hall. My assistant coaches and I wanted to introduce him around, won’t take a sec, glad you’re such a sport, come on Boyd,” Professor Taylor called.

Professor Elric looked askance and started to object, but Professor Taylor was already striding for the door. Boyd had not moved a muscle, eyes glued to the smaller man in front of the classroom, deferring him authority to the interloper, but Professor Elric nodded and Boyd stood up to follow the other man glumly.

“If you don’t make it back before the bell,” Professor Elric said to Boyd as he passed, “make sure to read chapter eight tonight. I’ll have one of the others share notes with you so you won’t be behind.”

It was the kindest thing the Professor had ever said to any of them and the whole class gazed in wonder, but then a few knowing glances turned to the visage of their emancipator, a one Daniel Stanton, who has stood up, spoke out of turn and defended their teacher, and in doing so, delivered them all.

***

The General unlocked his front door, opened it quietly and stuck his head in. Silence greeted him, but he stood a moment more before moving in with stealth and gently shutting the door behind him. He took off his great coat, trying to suppress the rustle of fabric as he hung it on the hall hook and then with the lightest steps he could, he started down the front hallway.


He urged himself to be extra quiet near the door of the den, but in only a month’s teaching time, Edward the prodigy had already developed the fine tuned senses needed to keep track of a gaggle of teenage boys… ironic, that.

“Roy?” came the voice from the den. The General sighed and turned to lean in the doorway. Ed smiled at him engagingly, then with the fingers of his flesh hand, he scooted a pile of papers back and forth on his desk.

“Help me grade papers?” he asked pleasantly, smile still in place.

Roy leaned on the doorframe and sighed, letting his temple rest against it too.

“But I’m a General,” he said plaintively, “you’re the teacher,” he tried to do it charmingly to wiggle his way out of a dull evening with a red pen in his hand, but the smile on Ed’s face faded abruptly and Edward looked down at the paper he was working on.

“Fine,” Ed said flatly, “dinner is ready and in the oven, I’m sure you can handle getting your own,” he made a mark on the paper.

Oh no, he made dinner. He had been smiling and nice, and Roy alternately loved and hated Ed’s maneuverability in the get-the-General-to-do-what-he-wanted department, but what else was there for it? He made Roy dinner, not bought it, made it. His cooking skills had improved so much (thank you Alex), he had his hair loose, he was wearing a t-shirt that was slightly too big for him and he had on his glasses.

Edward really was good at this heart-string thing.

“Alright,” Roy said, “let me change out of this uniform and I’ll help you. Will you at least eat dinner with me?”

The smile reappeared twice as bright. Ed took off his glasses and got up, walked around the desk to him, wrapped his arms around him and leaned up for a kiss.

“I’ll do you one better. While you change, I’ll heat it up and get the plates out,” he purred and got a second kiss for it. Then he let the General head for the bedroom while he headed for the kitchen.

***

“Something happened in class today,” Ed said, waving his fork momentarily, “I met one of the other teachers, he like just barged in and demanded one of my students for some sports thing… I mean the kid was in alchemy class…” the way Ed said it, Roy knew that Ed thought his was the only class in the whole of the Academy worth anything. Naturally, it made Roy smile.

“That’s shocking,” Roy said, and took a sip of his tea, “to think they’d pull a boy out for just sports, out of your class,” he grinned.

“Okay you sanctimonious bastard, enough already. It was really what sort of happened before I let Boyd go with Trevor, no wait, Taylor. So this guy comes in and I get mistaken for a student again,” Ed growled, “and he’s being all touchy feely on my shoulder,” Ed snorted.

Roy knew that Edward disliked being touched by strangers and was impressed that he wasn’t talking to Edward from a jail cell, where he had been incarcerated for breaking the man’s arm.

“And you know I have to be polite in front of the kids because they pick up all kinds of shit and then, you know, you get in trouble if the kid goes home and uses a curse word in front of his parents…” Ed grunted.

Roy kept his mouth firmly shut, knowing that in the month Ed had been with the Academy, he’d had to ‘chat’ with the Dean twice on that subject.

“So Daniel stands up and yells out to this guy that I’m the FullMetal Alchemist, acting all offended. Not sure what that was about,” Ed said, but looked pleased nonetheless, and sort of proud. Roy’s smile grew as his own mind gestured to a tall, lanky, blonde Lieutenant Colonel who stood with his hand on his hip in a slightly cocky manner, staring the rude officer down and saying in causal defense, “You might want to watch what you’re saying, this is a General, you know”, in that mess-with-him-mess-with-me tone.

“Daniel and Boyd? Those are first names, I don’t believe I’ve heard you refer to any of your students by their first names before,” Roy said causally, warmth spreading through his belly, patting himself on the back for such an excellent decision when the opening had come to his attention.

“Well, it’s not like they don’t have them,” Ed said, starting on his salad, “ I just have them listed on roll call by their last names,” Ed shrugged, “anyway, after the whole thing, Daniel comes up to me because he had been in trouble earlier for note passing, but I gave him his note back and we sort of nodded at each other. I don’t know, I always read way too much into situations,” Ed said off handedly and reached for the pepper.

“Alphonse called me today. He’s on the train, he’ll be here Friday,” Roy said, “do we have any plans?”

Ed grinned at his younger brother’s name and shook his head, finishing with the pepper and reaching for the salt as he sucked salad dressing off the tip of an automail digit. Roy often wondered if Edward no longer had the ability to taste metal, the way he was always jamming his automail into this mouth was his first clue. The couple of times the automail had found its way into Roy’s mouth during love making, the older alchemist had a metallic aftertaste for about an hour.

“I have no plans,” Ed said, “other than being happy my brother is home. Should we make some? Maybe go out or something? Or wait and see what Al wants to do? Let’s do that, let Al pick something for us to do. He’s here for a week, right? Did he tell you?”

Roy was used to being the buffer by now, the way the brothers occasionally communicated. Little by little over the last year, Edward had accepted, if not with grace, that this ‘new’ Al leaned a bit more on the General than himself. Plus, it was disruptive to call during a class, but not disruptive to call a General trying to avoid paperwork, so during the workday, if Al had to call, he called Roy. They’d both agreed Ed having a job was a fine way of making it so they could communicate by phone again.

“Two weeks, I believe,” the General said, finishing off his meal and wiping his mouth, laying the napkin on the table, “he mentioned wanting to spend some time at the library, which will be fine during the times you’re in class,” Roy said.

“Really? Two?” Ed grinned. It was more of that heart-string thing, the way Edward looked forward to Alphonse’s visits, the way he measured their time together and tried to think of how it could best be spent by the two of them. He wasn’t so methodical with he and Roy’s time because they had all the time in the world now, but each moment with Alphonse was precious to him, because Roy knew that Ed was sensing that the older Alphonse grew, the shorter these times might be. Alphonse was going to go off at some point and start his life, which was good, right and natural, but for an elder brother who missed so much of seeing him grow to begin with, it was a little hard.

“Let’s go grade papers and have dessert after in bed,” the General coaxed gently and his lover smiled in appreciation.

“Ummm,” Ed said, “chocolate covered General, my favorite!”

Roy laughed.

***

Their fingertips hit the same last paper at the same time and they grinned at each other. Ed started at the bottom and Roy started at the top (grading upside down). They met in the middle, did a brief mock pen battle over the last question, then they both snorted in laughter and then they were kissing.

Hot and wet and tongues surging, Ed crawled up onto the desk and slid his arms over Roy’s shoulders. Roy wrapped his hands around Ed’s waist, pulling him against his body, and they ground against each other, both moaning and delving and tasting.

Roy yanked him over the desk, got him on his feet and walked him backwards into the wall beside the door where he could brace him while trying to suck his soul out through his mouth and where he could grind his hard, hot cock with more power into Ed’s crotch and lower stomach. Ed made deep sounds, hungry and aching as he arched hard into Roy’s pelvic gyrations, adding his own and bracing his back on the wall for more leverage to push against Roy. They continued in this manner for several long moments before Ed shoved him away forcefully and dragged his flesh arm over his mouth.

“You get in the fucking bedroom,” Ed growled, “I need to stop by the kitchen,” he said, yanking off his glasses that had miraculously stayed on the entire time and tossing them at the desk, not caring if they missed and skittered across the floor. “What the fuck are you still standing here for?” Ed snarled, “You better be naked when I get in there.”

So, it was to be this way tonight. Roy couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran his frame any more than he could keep from backing away from his advancing lover. When he gained the hall, he turned and forced himself to walk to length to the bedroom, hearing Ed’s distinctive footsteps follow him partway, but turn off into the kitchen area.

***

Roy pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop. He kicked out of his pants and thigh long briefs in the same manner, letting them stay where they fell. Ed liked it that way, he liked to walk in and see the clothing he commanded be shed lying on the floor.

Before his disappearance, Ed’s lovemaking had begun subtle changes. His simple yielding had started to give way somewhat, his lips and hands had become more attentive and his wants had started to surface. He had just come to the edge of demand, which to Roy was a signpost of the advancing sexual maturity he had wanted to develop in his lover. Ed had just begun to force Roy’s hands where he wanted them to go, to tell Roy in low, husky growls when it was not hard enough, not fast enough, when he wanted more and when he wanted less. All these things that Roy savored disappeared with the boy that fateful night, never to return.

What had returned was sculpted and molded by Ed’s own desires and experiences where Roy could not follow. Ed had come into his understanding on his own, he had a pronounced aggression that had just been budding, but was harder chiseled now than it might have been had he stayed in Roy’s bed, under Roy.

It was unnerving at first, the clench of metal on his wrists, the grit of teeth and flash of heat in his lovers young face, the way he demanded what he had never asked before. In the beginning, when Ed was new to him again, it was almost like being in bed with a stranger. Roy was not used to surrendering his control and in the beginning, even without intention, he fought against it. But Ed was physically stronger, more combat agile and his need much heavier and harder to deny than it had ever been in his youth.

Roy pulled the covers down on their bed, moved up onto it and settled back in the pillows. He didn’t pull the sheets up, there was no point. Ed would hiss and snatch them away if he came in to his lover covered; it seemed to anger him to no end, like it was defiance. He settled into the pillows, arranging them under his neck and pulling one out to the side, in easy reach of an automail hand in case he decided he’s rather not see Roy’s face in his passion. But, the norm of it was that he usually preferred it, as he called it, ‘sweet side up’.

Roy still wasn’t sure how he felt about this. He enjoyed it, Edward could make him shake and cry out, make his body arch and tremble and feel, but he wondered if it was perhaps a bit unfair of him to still harbor doubts after all these months. This was hardly the first time Edward had made it clear who would be servicing who in bed that night.

You are never satisfied, ah this might be true, Roy decided. He distinctly remembers yearning for his lover’s maturity, but now he finds a part of him longs for his lover’s earlier vulnerability, when he lay trembling in a Colonel’s arms after having been brought to completion.

Edward stopped all further musing by his mere presence. He strode into the room with an aura of oppression surrounding him; his eyes clawed at Roy’s form on the bed as he tossed a bottle onto the foot of it, dragged his shirt up and off, and kicked off his pants without ceremony. He stalked to the end of the bed and climbed onto it, pushing the bottle before him as he went and pressing its cold surface to Roy’s side as not to lose it or let it roll away.

“The honeymoon is definitely over,” the General snorted and shied a moment from the coolness, “maybe I should like, pre-lube for you and just have my knees up around my ears when you walk in,” he said dryly.

Ed hung over him a moment, scowling down at him. He made a snort and looked off to the side a moment, like he was thinking, then he looked back at the General and grinned.

“Hey baby, you’re looking really hot lying here all naked and waiting, I guess you couldn’t wait for me, huh? You look really fuckable, I promise to make it good,” Ed said and leaned down to kiss Roy’s bare stomach.

Roy rolled his eyes, sighed and spread his legs.

“Here, dig in, who am I to stop you? After all, you’re going to smear Al’s homemade chocolate sauce all over me and lick it off while growling like an animal. It’s not like that’s a bad thing, but you know I’d like a little change up in your routine every once and while if you don’t mind. Not that you fucking me senseless doesn’t have it’s appeal, but really Edward, I’m a bit hurt. I never taught you how to be in a rut in bed,” Roy stretched then, put his arms over his head and raised his eyebrow at the blonde who had lifted his head and was regarding him wryly, his bangs hanging in his eyes.

Ed sat back on his heels and put his hands on his hips, puffed up his cheeks and blew upwards toward his bangs with no real effect.

“Are you calling me sexually dull?” Edward demanded, “Is that what you are getting at? Now I’m the one who’s hurt, you certainly howl like a fuckin’ banshee when I’m going at you! I’ve never heard you complain before, I thought you liked chocolate sauce! Why are you bringing this up now… wait, you want to be on top tonight, that’s it, isn’t it?”

“Noooo,” Roy said, “what I’m saying is that you don’t have a romantic bone in your body,” Roy lifted his hand back to his face and studied his nails, “I suppose I never got to properly teach you to woo anyone besides giving gifts, each one I enjoyed immensely I might add,” he said to forestall the hurt huff that had threatened.

“I just told you that you looked fuckin’ hot,” Ed complained, “how is that not romantic?”

Roy clasped the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and rubbed in a circular motion, closing his eye.

“Your vocabulary has its time and its uses. Your proclivity to color the air with many a colorful epitaph can serve, at times, to set the mood when I’m feeling the need to be ‘jack hammered’, one of your more colorful descriptive phrases I might add, or if I wish to be ‘pounded through the mattress’, another of your delightful descriptive phrases that is a particular favorite of mine. But perhaps one night I might appreciate a bit more…” Roy waved his hand, “seduction? Amour? Allurement? I don’t know, surprise me. I’m not saying that I am better at topping than you are, before you get that silly notion in your head, but I am saying I have better variety. Instead of being insulted you should take it as constructive criticism,” the General said.

“You are the master of fucking bullshit,” Edward snarled, “you can’t whoop me in a fair fight to be on top, like it should be. I say he who pounds all comers gets to be king of the hill, so you try to confuse me with that simpering fuck-headed double talk you use around the office that makes everyone think you’re so smart, we’ll I’m smart too, ass-wipe and I’m not letting you on top because you decided to complain with pretty words.”

Roy sat up, leaning back on his hands and they glared at each other for a few moments. Roy regarded Ed with his mouth drawn flat.

“Let me give you a better example,” Roy said, “do you remember a night, perhaps a couple of months ago now, when I thought it would be nice for us to walk though the plaza near Central City Square and talk and have dinner before we went home for the evening? I was trying to set a mood. But instead, you found the one person in the whole of Central that I not only knew, but had to deal with on behalf of my position the very same week and you made fun of his pants, where he could hear you doing it, I might add.”

Ed made a helpless shrug, wiggled his fingers and sucked in his lower lips.

“It is not my fault it looked like the guy had taken a dump in them,” Ed said, “if you don’t want baggy pants, go to a better tailor. I swear they were swinging back and forth on his wide load ass; he looked like he was carrying cargo! I shouldn’t have pointed and laughed, I admit that now, but come on, you thought it was funny too, I know you did. Plus I gave you three, count them, three make up blowjobs that week, I even did one on my knees in the living room, and you said you forgave me. But oh no, here you go bringing it up again, just like I knew you would, because that’s how you operate, you save things up to use them at times like this. I am going to be on top tonight ROY,” Ed emphasized, “and you are not talking me out of it.”

More glaring came next and then Ed moved. His hand came up and blocked the foot aimed at the side of his head and he slammed the leg down, lunging onto the General, knocking him back into the pillows and grabbing one of his wrists to pin it. Roy arched and bucked beneath him, lips pulling back in a snarl as he slammed his free hand against an automail shoulder in an attempt to dislodge his lover, but to no avail. He merely got that hand caught and similarly pinned above his head. With both wrists secured in an unbreakable steel grip, Ed’s hand was free to roam and conquer. He shoved his steel knee between Roy’s legs with a tsking noise as Roy attempted to close them.

“And you call yourself a General,” Ed leered in a nasty grin, “that was a piss poor ambush, sir,” he exulted, “I expected much better than that,” Ed’s flesh fingers dragged through black hair, coarse and heavy at the juncture of Roy’s legs. He caught the head of Roy’s cock between his thumb and forefinger, and squeezed. Roy gasped and shuddered, tried to twist, but remained pinned. He swung his face back to glare up at the golden eyes grinning down at him in a smug and hungry way.

“You little shit,” the General hissed and Ed grinned wickedly as he slid his hand down Roy’s hardening cock, gripped it as he gave a hard tug and pull. Roy gasped and resumed struggling to free his wrists, twisting his body, trying to avoid the hand even though it was, they both knew it, as hopeless as it was inevitable. Everything Roy had said leading up to this, Ed’s ‘routine’, was a ruse to entice him, to bring forward the aggressor he both had fear of and craved. He knew when the playfulness ended and the true seduction began, the change in Ed’s eyes, the way his breathing deepened, the pressure on Roy’s pinned wrists and the slide and pull of dry friction that was quickly becoming uncomfortable. Roy knew the game now; he’d have to play good for a moment, to allow Ed to get oil, so they could continue comfortably. He signaled his acceptance by relaxing and licking his lips, arching to those squeezing fingers. Ed eyed him a second, then slowly released his wrists, hand hovering a moment in case Roy moved. When he didn’t, when he was a good boy, Edward reached over to snag the bottle of oil from the bedside, stopped the delightful and torturous manipulation of Roy’s cock long enough to slick up his hand, then the steel fingers gripped his wrists once more and the flesh fingers captured Roy’s cock again.

Ed had strong fingers and a firm grip. He knew Roy now, knew the pressure he liked, the speed he desired, and he always held off to just the edge of what Roy wanted, enticing sounds from the older man, half gasped directions, arches and twists of his slender, defined body and a dark eye that demanded and pleaded in the same look. Ed had made his own, slow, painstaking map of his lover’s places, what got the best moans, what got the best pleas, what got the snarls of lusty outrage. He studied them, tried variations, worked Roy’s body as he would work an array, striving for perfection and heat and sweat.

Roy’s open mouth, throaty sobs, complete with arched neck, is what Ed liked best. He would attack the exposed throat with his lips and tongue, hand never slowing in its conquering. Roy began a rhythmic thrusting upwards. This told Ed his time was nearing and so Ed gave in to him then, gave Roy all the things he liked as he pulled up to watch his lover’s face when he came, the agony that was ecstasy, the way his throat worked as he looked, for just a moment, like he might cry. Ed would kiss him then, all over his face and lips and even his eye patch, although Roy still mumbled half hearted protests to it, then down his throat and over his chest and nipples before pulling up to release Roy’s wrists and watch him pant, waiting for the dark eye to flutter back open.

***

Ed as a seducer was a sight that would almost make his heart stop at times. After he’d been brought to his first completion, opening his eye and looking up at his lover glowing faintly in the dim light of the bedside lamp was a treasured thing. The look in Ed’s eyes, the slight smile pulled at the corner of his lip, there was nothing in Roy’s world to compare.

To be wanted as Ed wanted, to be craved as Ed craved… with Ed, nothing was half way. Everything was his spirit and determination, and it made Roy feel weak. Sometimes he would cringe from it, but he always in the end gave into it, letting Ed have him as he always let Ed have him and not just in body.

Ed murmured to him loving endearments and retrieved he bottle from the bedside once more, this time lying it by Roy’s side with the abandoned chocolate sauce (for which Roy was glad not to be smeared with. Ed’s claimings were always sleep-inducing affairs that left him too drained to want to rise and bathe afterwards. He was always a sticky, stale mess in the mornings, and he hated that). With his fingers thus oiled, he raised Roy’s legs and hooked his knees over his shoulders, sliding his fingers behind Roy’s raised and offered balls, down the cleft of his ass and pausing to circle the ring there once, twice, before introducing the first slow finger.

***

Ed had been Roy’s first. Never before had it occurred to Roy that he would be giving up control, it’s just not something he was accustomed to. He remembered the night Ed had made his desires clear. At first, Roy had considered it just a tease that Edward had played at for a time, but always let Roy top in the end. Finally though, one night, Edward had made his stand.

“I’m on top tonight,” the blonde had husked, “I want equal time, bastard,” he groaned. Roy had chuckled softly as he always did, returning his lips to that sassy mouth, his fingers already buried to prepare Edward for taking. But, he’d pushed away suddenly and with force, twisting himself free to sit on the side of the bed, flushed with masculine beauty, fixing Roy with a hard look. “I’m serious.”

Roy was stunned to silence momentarily. His brain halted in its lust-bound tracks and he could think of not one thing to say. He made a helpless gesture, reaching for Ed, thinking that if he could just get him to lay back down he’d make him forget, but Edward had grabbed his wrist and held it firm, mouth a determined line, eyes glinting.

Edward was serious. Roy tugged his wrist and Ed released him. Roy sat up on his hip and pushed back his sweaty bangs, groping for how to start this conversation, but Edward plunged ahead for him.

“I can make it good for you, I know how. You taught me, mostly,” he said, “ I want this, Roy. I want to be inside you, I want to be the one to watch your face as you cum and know that I did that to you with my body, not my hands and mouth. I want what I give you freely; I want you to give that to me too.”

How could he refuse? How could he explain? Never once, and he’d had a couple of male lovers before Ed, he never given up enough of himself to let another person inside him. He was capable of it emotionally, obviously, but physically? Something inside him rebelled. It was a sign of weakness, but that wasn’t right, he didn’t think of Edward as weak and never had. It was a double standard that he had fooled himself into believing and now it was threatened by the only person that could threaten it. He felt… trapped, betrayed, and maybe a bit afraid.

But he wasn’t in the habit of lying to Ed and he wouldn’t’ start now, so he shrugged and said simply, “I’ve never done it before, been on the bottom. I’m not sure I’d like it.”

Edward, as usual, was not easily swayed by mere words.

“I didn’t like it at first either, but you made me like it, now let me make you like it. I’ll be gentle, it will be good, I’ve done it bef…” he stopped himself then and they both stared at each other. There was a slip there, a reference to the ether that hung between them sometimes, that realm that Ed had visited and refused to invite Roy into.

There was uncomfortable silence now and each party shifted a bit on the bed. Roy felt a bit chilled as the sweat he’d accumulated earlier began to cool. His cock waned as well, sighing in disappointment, thinking that it had finally overcome this stumbling block with its beloved Edward, but seemed doomed to repeat it time and again, like a bad penny turning up unwanted. Edward hung his head, bangs obscuring his profile and half turned his back on the General. Roy wondered if it was because of the admission. He reached out and touched a smooth back and Ed looked at him then, over his shoulder, his scotch eyes sad and apologetic.

Did Ed actually think Roy would hold an affair while he was trapped wherever he was, against him? The look in his eyes said he must and Roy cursed mentally that Edward still hadn’t outgrown the thought that he deserved all his suffering, that it was always a bad thing he’d caused. Roy ran his hand under the blonde hair, gripped the back of Ed’s neck and began pressing to turn him around.

“Stop this, Ed,” he said softly, “that means nothing. All that means anything, is us here and together, do you understand?” he gave Ed a small shake, “Do you think I’d want you to be lonely? I told you about Hawkeye, remember?”

Ed nodded, letting himself be turned and drawn against Roy’s chest. Roy rubbed his back and kissed his blonde head and sighed, wondering if he’d ever be able to work up a formula to finally rust to a halt that Edward Elric guilt machine. After a few moments, Edward’s hands began to wander and trace over Roy’s abdomen, his thighs and finally his cock, stroking and dragging lightly with his short nails. Roy smiled and kneaded his shoulders, letting Edward explore and touch, because it felt good and his cock stirred hopefully, thinking maybe the evening wouldn’t be a total bust.

They were lying face to face, touching and kissing. Edward’s hands trailed around Roy’s hips and began kneading his ass and parting it, a fingertip touched Roy’s anus and he jumped and pulled back.

“Let me,” Edward husked, “I want you, I need you. Let me Roy, please.”

Roy swallowed. He wanted to please Edward, he really did, but he had to come up with a way to conquer this force inside him that blustered and groused and said he was the man in this relationship (not that Edward was a woman, but he wasn’t a non-man either. He wasn’t really sure what category Edward was really, but Roy was the man. Definitely. No doubt about it.) and as such, he should claim chest-beating dominance. Before Roy could stop it, he flung out a challenge.

“If you can take me,” Roy heard himself say, “you can have me.”

Edward Elric had laughed then, in a very frightening way, and Roy made a sudden wild flail, trying to throw himself off the bed, but it was too late, it was far too late.

***

The second finger moved in easily and Roy panted through it. Ed stilled and waited, then moved with Roy’s unconscious signals. Ed kissed the inside of Roy’s knee where it rested over his automail shoulder and worked Roy in slow circles, stretching him.

For all the bluff and fluster, posturing and foul language, Ed was an extraordinarily gentle lover, especially with his skittish ‘stallion’. (Roy had groaned and rolled his eyes over that one, Ed had snickered and they both said at the same time, ‘I’ve heard that one about a million times!’ then both had laughed about it some more) He always took an immense amount of care making sure Roy was ready. The third finger met resistance that was gently and quickly overcome, and Roy’s breathing began to deepen, preparing himself mentally and physically. It was good, it was always good with Ed. He told himself that over and over again, because it was true and he wanted Ed. He wondered how long it would take, how many times Ed would top, before this thing in his chest was banished once and for all.

Edward liked for Roy to lube him. Roy offered up his palm and Edward anointed it with oil, then thrust himself forward enough that Roy could fist his cock. Ed thrust a couple of times into the hot tunnel Roy made with his fingers before pulling back, resettling Roy’s legs and looking down between them, tugging his own cock for a moment before lining up and raising his eyes to meet Roy’s.

Edward always asked permission with his eyes and that always made Roy feel warm and tight in his chest. He licked his lips and smiled, and Edward smiled back and moved forward, pushing in very slowly. Roy closed his eye and relaxed, giving himself up as always.

***

Roy’s surrender was always stirring to him, because he knew despite the many times they had done this reversal of sorts, he still had some reservations. But Roy was always giving, always compassionate and always there for him. Sometimes, if he thought about it too much, it made it hard to breathe. There was heat and tightness and Edward trembled with it, his restraint was always just on edge, he always just wanted to bury himself the moment he gained entrance, but he couldn’t, it had to be good for Roy, and Roy needed slow.

He reached between Roy’s legs with his flesh hand, gripped him and began a slow stroke as he sank to the hilt. He waited there for a few moments, stroking, listening to Roy’s low moans and hitched breathing, waiting for that unspoken signal. When he received it, he began to move, slow and steady, long strokes that brought him almost all the way out, then sinking back in to the hilt.

This is the pace he would give Roy until he couldn’t stand it anymore. From his vantage point, he would watch the man he loved as he loved him. He would take in the sight of Roy Mustang, pliant and flushed, sobbing and panting, for he knew that no one else ever had this sight. It was his alone and he would keep it his alone, or die in the effort. Roy touched him in ways even his brother didn’t, because Roy was his, because Roy had given himself up and let Edward drown him, because no one had ever touched him in body and mind like Roy. No one loved him in the way Roy loved him, no one would ever love him like Roy. Roy was the second center of his universe, to be protected and loved and horded like a precious gem, beyond even the red stone he spent half his life chasing.

His need was becoming pronounced and his own breathing more erratic. His hand stroked faster, so he allowed his hips to catch up. Roy grimaced once, but remained relaxed and began to pant himself; his fingers working furiously in the sheets to either side of his hips, his tongue skating out wet his lips. Edward groaned at the sight, his memory flashing a jumbled myriad of images at how that very tongue had brought him so much pleasure.

His pace increased yet again and he began voicing his lust with heavy groans and Roy’s name. He voiced his lust and his love in a set of stuttered words, throwing his head back as his automail hand gripped Roy’s leg, leaning back as if he could bury himself deeper. Roy’s cries joined his own frantic calls, begging. His voice caressed him, pushed him, pleaded with him and Edward opened his eyes wide, looking up at the ceiling as everything he was, all his love, rushed forward. His last thrusts were perhaps a bit more brutal than he intended, but it was so much and he had to get it out before his heart exploded. He slammed his eyes shut and bowed forward, pushing Roy’s knees toward the hollows of his shoulders as Roy half screamed. There were a few more hard jerks on both their parts, then stillness and nothing but the sound of harsh gasps and struggles for air.

***

Fear, love, lust, pain and pleasure; Edward always gave him everything he could ever desire. They looked at each other, Roy reaching up to wipe sweat from his eye and then reaching out to touch Ed on his nose. Ed was hanging against his legs and grinned when Roy’s finger lighted on the end of his nose, crossing his eyes momentarily, then shaking his head and pushing back. Roy groaned because it made Ed’s cock (flagging, but still buried deep) shift and he was sensitive now.

Ed made a soothing noise and slowly pulled free. Roy grunted, then relaxed and Ed moved over him, leaning down to kiss him softly. They did this for a few long afterglow moments until Edward pulled back again, reached up and stroked back sweaty, black bangs. He cupped Roy’s cheek and sighed, lowering himself to lie on his lover. Roy grunted again and shifted just a bit as he ran his hands down Ed’s sweaty back, resting them on his butt and Edward lowered his cheek to Roy’s shoulder.

Roy drew idle circles, heaving a few heavy sighs. Edward smiled and all but wallowed as Roy turned his head and snorted in his ear, tonguing it once.

“What are you sighing about?” Ed said finally. He always hated breaking the afterglow silence.

“Well, I was thinking that you are damn hot and I was being smug with myself because I taught you how to be damn hot,” Roy teased and Edward half laughed.

“I sometimes miss my shy and blushing teenager,” Roy continued, “who would look at me with his big eyes and always say rude things, but still flop adoringly on my bed with his legs spread and his arms stretched out to me,” Roy kneaded on Ed’s butt cheeks.

Edward groaned in natural embarrassment and flexed his butt to Roy’s attentions.

“Don’t bring that up, that’s embarrassing shit. What did I know, you were always the one who knew everything, I was a sucker,” Ed said, “So now I’m on equal footing and you want to use that old stuff to make me feel like a kid again.”

“Not true,” Roy said, a little strained beneath him, “I like to think about it at times like these because you were so much lighter then,” he quipped.

Edward snorted and suddenly raised his arms and legs off the bed, making Roy support his entire weight for a few seconds. He chortled vindictively as the man gasped and tried to roll him off, with no success.

“Are you calling me fat again?” the blonde asked, dangerous and low.

“No,” Roy said feebly beneath him, “unless husky is fat.”

Edward lifted his arms and legs again, this time he waited until Roy turned blue before he put them down.