The Flame Variable

Okay...first of all I'd like to apologize profusely. *kow-tows* I'M SORRY THIS CHAPTER WAS SO LATE! I DO NOT DESERVE FORGIVENESS, AND I SHALL NOW COMMIT SEPPUKU WITH A BLUNT SPORK!!!! Except that I won't, because I have one more chapter and an epilogue to finish.

Next, I'd like to note that this is not the lemon you've all waited so patiently for. *PIMP-SLAPPED*

I know, half of you are screaming in outrage and the other half are now leaving with looks of disgust, never to return. But I swear, I'm over the big fat Writer's Block I had concerning this fic, and I will finish it within the next few days! So please be kind to this poor, idiotic writer who works full-time and can't write lemons when his relatives are around, because even though he's nineteen and should be able to write whatever the f*ck he wants, his parents are still insistent that yaoi is the work of Satan. T_T

Yeah, I live with my parents. I make minimum wage, guys; don't mock me for not being moved out yet. And yes, I AM careful, and no I will NOT be caught, and no my parents will NOT sue AFF, because I AM legal and there's nothing they can do about that. The homophobes.

That bitched-I mean, said-please look kindly on my work, and enjoy.


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“First,” Maes instructed once the bedroom door closed behind them, “We find out how much you know. How far have you gotten with anyone?”

“I didn’t know this was going to be an interrogation,” Roy grumbled.

“Didn’t I say to relax? I need that information so I’ll know how much I have to explain.”

“Sorry,” the colonel sighed. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’ve never gone beyond heavy petting. Clothing ruffled but not on the floor yet, that sort of thing.”

Hughes whistled lowly. “That’s all? I thought you said you got close sometimes.”

“Sometimes the clothing got pretty damn ruffled. It was when my pants started to succumb to gravity that I stopped things.”

“Ah, I see.” Maes weighed his options for a moment, trying to work out a plan of how to proceed. At first, he had thought to strip first and go from there, but now that was sounding like a bad idea. Finally, he decided against just jumping into the higher learning; easing the other man into actual sex would make the whole thing less startling. “Okay, let’s start with that.”

He reached for Roy, frowning a little when his nerves-riddled friend flinched. “Don’t be so jumpy. This is supposed to be a good experience.” He tried again, and this time Mustang let himself be embraced.

Roy unlocked his spine from its rigid posture when large hands ran through his hair, tilting his head back to receive a kiss. A kiss was nothing new, even if it was coming from his best male friend, right? Only it was new; Maes had a broader mouth than a woman, and he was taller than Roy, and frankly his beard tickled and reminded the alchemist of just who he was locking lips with. And unlike any woman he had kissed in the past, Hughes’ entire presence overwhelmed Roy, from the long arms around him, to the mouth that covered his, to the larger body that practically enfolded him and made him feel small for once in his life. It was intimidating how much of him Maes dominated with just one kiss.

And yet…a part of him knew it was just Hughes. Just the man he had known forever, and trusted with everything, even this. That knowledge was what let him stay relaxed and return the kiss. Let it never be said that Roy Mustang couldn’t at least do that much.

The taller man kissed slightly harder, and received an equal response. Familiar territory, that, and the colonel could handle it. Roy’s sable eyebrows shot up when hands slid down his back and settled on his butt, and for a split second he thought about stopping everything right where it was. Then the visitors at the back door gave him a squeeze, and it felt good enough that he decided they were tolerable, so he let them stay.

Roy reached up (UP damnit, how dare his subordinate be taller than him!? He grabbed his brain and shook it, telling it to shut the hell up and let him enjoy the experience) and removed his friend’s glasses, wanting them out of the way. He contemplated dropping them on the carpet, but reconsidered when he got a mental image of the poor specs crushed under a careless heel. In the end he had no choice but to leave the kiss and place the glasses on the bedside table.

He had just straightened from setting the delicate things down when a pair of arms wrapped around him again, pulling him back against a solid, warm body. A hand ran up his chest and continued upward, tilting his head back to expose his neck to a soft rain of kisses.

“Talk to me,” Hughes murmured against the shorter man’s skin. “Tell me when anything’s new. Tell me what you like and what you don’t.”

The Flame Alchemist shivered and moved his head to the side, to give that mouth more room. “What you’re doing feels good,” he said quietly. He was *not* blushing like a woman, blast it. “I’m not too into rough stuff, but a little biting feels nice.”

Teeth nibbled at his throat, then moved to his ear and closed gently on the lobe. He ‘hummed’ in encouragement, and Maes drew the tip of his tongue around the shell-like shape.

“Nnn....” The hairs on the nape of Roy’s neck prickled; delicious tingles made him twitch slightly in his friend’s arms.

“You’re really sensitive, aren’t you?” Maes observed, a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel Obvious.” Roy certainly had not meant for that to come out as a purr, but he could hardly be angry with those hands running languidly over his body.

Fingers brushed over his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt, causing him to swallow hard and try not to breathe like he was running for his life. *God* that felt good, and not many of his female partners had ever done that to him deliberately. Apparently, most women thought men had no nerves in their chest area whatsoever, and tended to overlook it. They obviously didn’t know what their guys were missing.

He arched a little into the elusive touches, and Hughes obliged his silent plea by rubbing gently. Roy’s lower anatomy was definitely paying attention now, supporting his insistence that there was nothing physically preventing him from losing his virginity.

“Is this as ruffled as you normally get?”

The Flame Alchemist shook his head, dark hair settling distractingly in his eyes. “Give me some credit; my shirt isn’t even unbuttoned yet.”

The hands on him moved to commence the unbuttoning, and he helped as much as he could without getting in the way. When the garment hit the floor with a whisper of lightly-starched cloth, he turned back around then and resumed their earlier kiss, this time encouraging Hughes to take his mouth more thoroughly with light nips and nudges. His friend and “teacher” disappointed him not at all, enveloping him from the lips inward and giving him a good tonsil-swabbing with his tongue. Roy emitted a muffled groan and tugged blindly at the other man’s shirt for a minute before managing to wrap his brain around the idea that he had to unbutton that too.

They became essentially octopi for a while; that is to say, all hands. Hands yanking buttons out of their buttonholes, hands groping still (damn it) mostly-covered skin, hands destroying carefully gelled hairstyles. The sudden roiling boil of passion slowed to a simmer when Hughes undid the button of Roy’s pants and slid a hand down over his hip, pausing to knead gently and let the black-eyed man know what was happening. This was the point Roy had claimed he always stopped at, and it had to be handled carefully.

Roy hesitated, glanced up at Maes with half-lidded, wary eyes. But he had made his decision, and he knew there was no going back now. He shoved all his Mustang Brand issues to the back of his mental closet, and gave a barely perceptible nod. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Well, all right, maybe not full speed. Actually, slow would be good. Nice and slow so he could stop and catch his breath if he needed to. And was it normal to chatter at one’s self during sex, or was that just a first-time thing?

His eyelids lowered to half-mast subconsciously as his trousers and underwear slipped inch by inch down his hips, guided by his friend’s hands. It was sort of sensual, the feel of fabric sliding over his skin, followed by the touch of fingers. Such a simple sensation, but it felt good.

The air of the room felt colder when he was fully exposed to it, and he colored slightly at the realization that Maes did not share his state of undress. As an alchemist, he rather favored the idea of equivalency (though not nearly on the same level as a certain short, blond, temperamental someone), and it seemed to him that if he was to be naked, his partner should be the same. He batted the hands away from his sides so he could pull Hughes’s shirt the rest of the way off, all the while wondering where his eyes should settle. They gravitated of their own will toward bare skin until he forced them down to stare at the floor, but that felt ungracious so he allowed them to drift back up. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to look his friend directly in the face, though logically that was the safest place to look. His face burned as if he had loosed a poorly controlled flame attack on himself, and when his hands reached the other man’s waistline, they simply stopped.

“I can leave them on,” Hughes offered, “If that would make you more comfortable.”

Roy snorted softly. “What would be the point of that?” /Besides,/ he thought wryly, /I’m already pretty damned uncomfortable. It can’t get much worse, right?/

With this in mind, he made short, efficient work of the lieutenant colonel’s button and zipper, amazed as he did so that the entire room did not reflect the crimson glow of his cheeks. He was sure he looked like a human-shaped version of the Philosopher’s Stone, but Hughes made no comment about it, bless him. Instead, he leaned in and coaxed wonderfully distracting kisses and nuzzles from the shorter man, and somewhere in there a second pair of pants joined the first on the floor.

Roy vaguely wished he hadn’t noticed being backed slowly toward the bed; all those dime-store romance novels made it seem like that motion was undetectable, that people only realized they were there when they felt the edge of the mattress against the backs of their legs. But no, he definitely knew it was happening, and so when he actually did bump into the bed he winced a little, the fact that he was expecting it making the sensation all the more solid. He did not resist, however, simply allowed his body to move naturally into the act of sitting down and scooting back to give the other room to join him.

And then there was weight resting lightly over him, and he was forced to absorb the knowledge that he was naked—*with* someone—and he had no idea what was supposed to happen now.

“Well,” he said softly, swallowing back the nervous lump in his throat before continuing, “What now?”

Hughes meditated briefly on his friend’s question. The way he saw it, they could do this one of two ways. First, he could continue his role as the aggressor. That way, Roy would not only lose his virginity, he would also develop a sense of empathy toward his future partners, when he would be the one taking (which, in the long run, would make him a more considerate lover). The downside to this was, it would probably scare him to be under someone like that, and it would definitely hurt a little. The second option was for Roy to assume the dominant role. There were a lot of problems with that one, foremost being Roy’s complete lack of experience. Without even knowing it, he could end up really hurting his best buddy, and would probably brood about it for days afterward. It might even turn him off to the idea of making love to someone ever again, for fear of hurting them also! Roy’s guilt complex was almost as bad as Edward Elric’s, and just as long-lived. On the upside, being the dominant partner would eliminate the fear and pain factors on Roy’s side.

“It depends,” the bearded man stated at last. “Would you feel better if I was the one taking you, or the other way around?”

Roy let out a panicky sort of laugh. “That’s a loaded question, and it’s not fair. How should I know what’s best? You’re the teacher here, not me.”

“All right,” Maes soothed him, hearing the shorter man’s growing hysteria. “Take it easy. I’ll lead, and you can follow at whatever pace is most comfortable for you, okay?”

The dark-eyed alchemist nodded mutely, and for a long moment silence ruled with an iron fist. At last it was broken, by a voice so small it was almost a child’s whisper. “Okay.”

The lieutenant colonel ran a bracing hand through his hair, and resisted the urge to sigh aloud. This was going to be a long lesson.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Don't kill me, pleez?

*darting eyes*
>.>
<.<

...Review?
*BRICK'D*