The Flame Variable

Drumroll please....

You all waited so patiently for the lemon scene, and here it is! I hope you enjoy it, and I hope it meets all of your expectations.

On a side note: *evil glare* There was a reviewer who was extremely rude in their message to me concerning the speed with which I update. I deleted their review, but in doing so, the system also deleted the comment of another reviewer, one who was nothing but nice, and whom I am very sorry to.

My point: DO NOT LEAVE NASTY REVIEWS. I will delete them, but I DO NOT want to risk deleting a polite reviewer's comment because of the few of you bastards who are unable to understand constructive criticism. Do I make myself clear? I do not want to see that kind of shit happen again. Do not make me report you.

That said, I sincerely hope the rest of you like the story's third, and next to last chapter. I have a short epilogue to write still, but this is the lemon. :)

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“I’m going to start touching you again, all right? And don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Roy muttered. /I’m terrified./ The thought went unsaid, but it was clear enough to read in his eyes, which were wide and bright with the fear, and darted to various points around the room. He closed them with a shiver when a lightly-calloused hand ghosted a line from his collarbone to his navel. The spike of—admittedly—virginal terror had slain his lust earlier, but he was still a relatively young man, and relatively untouched, and it did not take long for his hormones to activate once more. It did not take much, either, simply a chorus of light caresses that coaxed his body to sing along, interjected with kisses that dropped like little notes in the wake of a sonata.

It was inevitable, but Roy still gasped loudly in shock when his partner touched him at the place that sang loudest, and for an instant it was too much. By God, that single caress had made him *burn* for a moment, burn like his alchemy, burn like he had burned for some of his women, but more so, because he had never allowed them to touch him that way no matter how much he had wanted it.

“Easy,” that familiar voice soothed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he managed in return. “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I’m not used to—to being touched there.”

Hughes rubbed his thumb gently over the younger man’s hip-bone. “Obviously. Next you’ll be telling me you’ve never touched yourself like that either.”

The colonel flushed indignantly. “I’m not that much of a kid. I have hands and I have a penis, and I know the resulting equation.”

A snort that failed to completely disguise laughter. “That’s a relief. I was starting to feel like a child molester.”

“Shut up.”

“Roy,” the investigations officer chided, “Don’t sulk. It doesn’t suit a man of your age.”

“No, I mean it,” Roy growled. “Shut up. Are we going to do this, or are you going to talk all night?”

A flash of anger lit Hughes’s hazel eyes for an instant. It cooled quickly into sternness. “Maybe we should stop now. You’re obviously too keyed-up to continue.”

He moved toward the edge of the bed, but halted when Roy grasped his arm tightly.

“Maes, wait,” the black-eyed man said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m a coward, just like I told you earlier, and I bit your head off because of it. I’m sorry for that.” He sighed, and glanced up at his friend through a fringe of raven-colored bangs. “I wanted to do this; I still do. I trust you, so…don’t leave?”

Hughes let himself be drawn back, and wrapped a comforting arm about Roy’s shoulders. “This is a struggle for you. I get that, so I’ll say it again: relax, okay?”

A nod, and Roy pressed his forehead into the other’s neck. “I’m a selfish bastard. I keep forgetting that this is new to you, too.”

“Hah! That’s for certain. I’m used to making love to my beautiful wife, not to skittish stallions.” The taller soldier grinned when a fist struck him lightly on the chest for that remark.

Roy pulled back to glare at him, and then gave in and smiled. “Thank you. For all of this, and for being my friend.”

“I’ll always be your friend, Roy. Nothing will ever change that.”

Tension dissipated as though it had never been, and neither was sorry to see it go. Now it was the colonel who initiated a kiss, and this time when he felt the older man’s hands on him, he welcomed it and even tentatively returned the gestures. Here and there his touch drew a gasp from the hazel-eyed man; the first time, Roy froze, not sure how he felt about that. The hesitance faded quickly, and the next time the quiet sound made him tingle and echo it with one of his own.

He arched against the lieutenant colonel when a hand found his reawakened sex, a sound he refused to categorize as a whimper sliding over his tongue and into the air between them. Lips and tongue followed the path hands had taken, coupled occasionally (carefully) with teeth, and Roy couldn’t seem to still his body as it twisted and trembled under the pleasurable assault. Hughes blazed a hot, wet trail along the inside of the younger man’s thigh with his tongue, still stroking Roy’s erect member slowly. He bit lightly at the paler, softer skin there—and Roy came with a startled shout. He was not the only one who was surprised by the sudden, *messy* result of that action; most of it caught Hughes right in the side of the face.

Roy shuddered through his orgasm, only half aware of his friend’s misfortune, but rapidly regaining his focus. Shame stained his cheeks scarlet, and he stammered an apology, hating that even as he did, part of the tremor in his voice came from suppressed laughter.

The older man blinked, stunned for a moment…and abruptly burst out guffawing. He could barely hold himself up on his arms, he was laughing so hard, and he did not cease for some time. Roy had long since joined him by the time he was finished; they looked at each other, the colonel with flushed face and wild hair and eyes wet from mirth, his subordinate with ejaculate splattered across his cheek and eyes equally red and glistening from his fit, and the two of them went into hysterics all over again.

“A fine pair of hyenas we make,” the Flame Alchemist gasped when he could speak coherently again.

“The look on your face!” Maes chortled.

“Never mind the look on *mine*, what about yours? You’d think you’d been shot by Lieutenant Hawkeye the way you jerked!”

“You almost got me in the *eye*, Roy! You’d have flinched too.”

He levered himself up into a kneeling position, and from there stepped down onto the bedroom floor. “I’m gonna grab some tissues, and then I’ll be back. Hang tight.”

Roy made himself comfortable while Hughes was off on his errand, stretching languidly and nuzzling into the pillow with the air of a contented cat. The frustrated grasp and slide of his own hand on nights when the loneliness got the better of him lacked a certain appeal, he now knew, compared to the touch of another. There was an unnamable quality in what a partner did to you that solo pleasure simply did not, could not have. Perhaps, he mused, it was the very fact that it *was* someone else. The novelty was part of it, but surely that faded with time and experience. Not knowing exactly how another’s hands on him would feel, not being able to anticipate exactly what would happen next; those things had to be the reason, or some of the reason.

/Or maybe,/ he thought with a wry smile, /I’m over-analyzing this whole thing. Better to just enjoy it and learn what I need to for the future./

When Hughes returned, it was with a clean face, a handful of tissues which he laid well within reach, and a small jar of moisturizing cream (an essential item, though a well-hidden one, in every male bathroom), which Roy gave a dubious look.

“And that would be for...?”

“Assuming you still want to go that far, it’s for lubricant.” The taller man raised an eyebrow when his alchemist friend grimaced. “You didn’t think I was going to try taking you dry, did you? I might not be an expert on this whole male/male sex thing, but I know better than *that*.”

“Do we really—” Roy fidgeted, not knowing exactly why the word “lubricant” made him squirm. “Do we really need it?”

Hughes planted a hand on his hip, and glared like a schoolteacher whose most promising student had just uttered something incredibly stupid. “Only if you don’t want to bleed. A woman wouldn’t need lube, but they come with their own. You don’t, and I won’t risk damaging you by not using anything.” He glanced at the vessel in his hand, and frowned a bit. “I’m not sure this is the *best* thing to use, but it should work well enough.”

“Should?” The colonel was looking anxious again.

“For pity’s sake, *yes*. I won’t hurt you, buddy, I swear. No more than what’s inevitable, that is. Which,” the other added quickly, “Won’t be much if we do this right.”

Obsidian eyes rolled. “I feel so much better knowing I am in your capable hands.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my hands a few minutes ago,” Maes pointed out cheekily.

Roy chuckled. “Point taken. All right then, I said I trusted you and I meant it.” He reached out a hand and smiled, a hint of his famous charm showing through. “Come on. Let’s continue our lesson.”

“You’ll make some woman very happy some day,” Hughes predicted, climbing back into bed with the alchemist. /Of course,/ he thought cheerfully, /That’s the idea./

He massaged lingering tautness out of the younger man’s thighs with firm fingertips, smiling when Roy moaned quietly, still sensitive from his release. When the dark-eyed soldier was limp and pliable, Hughes unscrewed the lid of the jar and dipped his fingers into the cream, making sure they were thoroughly slathered with the stuff before setting the vessel aside. The first touch to his anus made Roy wince, both from the cold feel of the moisturizer and from the foreignness of being touched at so intimate a place. Gentle rubbing allowed him to get used to the sensation somewhat, and he subsided back into a limber state.

“Bend your knees a little,” the lieutenant colonel requested. “I can’t really work with you this way.”

Roy complied with only the barest hint of hesitancy, and the older man made a quiet noise of approval before continuing. While the one hand gently worked him below, the other wandered over the planes of the colonel’s body. A finger plucked teasingly at his nipple, and Roy hissed; the sound transformed from pleasure to surprise when his friend eased the index digit of his other hand into the alchemist. He twitched, inside and out, and grunted quietly as the movement resulted in a brief prick of pain. His partner’s voice urged him to stay limp, and he complied through force of will. Every instinct in his body wanted to push out the invading digit, but tensing would only have made it worse.

The finger inside him moved minutely, no doubt to loosen him up as it spread around the lubricant. After a while, he became accustomed to the slow, easy stroking of his inner muscles, and the urge to tighten up faded.

It returned with a vengeance when a second, lubed finger pressed gradually but determinedly in alongside the first.

“Ngh! Nn-Maes—”

“Shhh, easy. It’s okay; it shouldn’t hurt long.”

And it did not. That too became just another strange, almost pleasant feeling. The hazel-eyed man reached between his partner’s legs and lightly pumped his half-hard length, trying to use pleasure to draw Roy’s mind away from the third digit working into him. It didn’t work nearly as well as it was supposed to, but at least Roy stopped clenching his teeth after a moment or two. The Flame Alchemist was panting now, his eyes alternately shut tightly, or open wide and slightly wild.

Hughes bit his lip, hoping Roy wouldn’t notice that little bodily signal that indicated worry. In truth, he had only a limited knowledge of what he was doing; oh, he had *heard* plenty on the subject (non too surprising in a military with so few women about, and several wars over the years producing high tension, and the realization that one might not live to see tomorrow), but had only ventured to satisfy his curiosity by reading the basics, and had never put any of what he had learned into practice. In a sense, they were both virgins here, and the lieutenant colonel was well aware of the possibility of getting it wrong. Yet, he had promised to be the teacher because it was he who knew—more or less—what to do, and he refused to let his pupil down.

He only realized he had been subconsciously stroking his fingers deeper when Roy suddenly yelped, and clenched vice-like around the digits. Alarmed, Hughes ceased all movement, fearing he had hurt his friend. Roy, on the other hand, bucked his hips up insistently.

“God,” the Flame Colonel hissed, tightening again, seeking a repeat sensation. “Right—ah—there!” He spread himself wider, dark eyes half-lidded and ablaze with lust. “More,” he pleaded, the ages-old mantra of lovers.

And as it had affected every man since speech was invented and combined with sex, it affected Maes Hughes. He obeyed without even thinking, pushing his fingers in to the knuckle and spreading them, curling them, searching for what his own desire told him would be there. He knew his instincts had informed him correctly when the man beneath him cried out, and arched up hard off the bed.

“Haah—*fuck*,” Roy grated breathlessly, and Maes laughed softly, because it was rare for the alchemist to resort to such language.

“Do you think you’re ready?” the older man asked, continuing to rub and thrust gently as he spoke.

Roy was barely coherent at that point, but he managed to nod just shy of frantically as he moved his hips to meet the other’s hand. He would not even attempt to voice his consent in a recognizably human fashion, because he knew full well it would come out as nothing more lucid than a moan.

A deep whine of disappointment escaped when the digits within him withdrew, the action made no easier by the way his internal muscles clamped down, seconding the notion that he wanted them to stay.

Obsidian eyes snapped open wide when after a minute of nothing happening (nothing that Roy could possibly be aware of in his current state), Hughes hooked an arm under one of the shorter man’s legs, and used his free hand to guide himself as he began to push in. The colonel’s breath came in sharp, unsteady gasps, hitching whenever he felt a stab of pain from the blunt head advancing slowly but firmly into him. It was slicked thoroughly with the cream, but it was different, thicker, and he had to grit his teeth and force his lower body to stay loose and accept the invasion.

Hughes had steeled himself against the inevitable pleasure that would urge him to simply shove in hard, all at once, but he was ill-prepared for exactly how good it would feel. Roy was *hot*, as though his trademark flames came not from an outer spark but from within, and he was tighter than the investigations officer was used to. In the end, Hughes was only a mortal man, and he could only spare his friend a little by keeping his movements to a minimum until Roy adjusted. The other did so quickly enough, and was soon moving with him, and entreating him once again for more.

Roy was hard to the point of aching after several thrusts, and he slipped a hand over his hip to touch himself, not fisting his erection but only petting it, trying to take away some of the throbbing. A hand closed lightly over his own, and he immediately ceased his actions, staring, startled, up into a pair of green-gold eyes. Hughes lifted Roy’s hand and kissed it, and sucked the tip of the index finger into his mouth. He continued to rock his hips against the younger man as he drew the finger deeper, swirling his tongue around the length of it. When the index digit was painstakingly molested, he moved on to the middle, and then the ring finger, and last the sadly neglected pinky. His gaze never left the other’s, though his eyelids did lower to half-mast.

The colonel was stunned at first, and then fiercely aroused. He loosed a moan that was almost a snarl, jerked his hand free and flung his arms around the older man’s neck, yanking him down and claiming his mouth aggressively. Tongues clashed, negotiated, and settled into a dirty dance as the two men pulled and slid and thrust against each other, with no rhythm but plenty of intent.

Hughes ripped his mouth away from Roy’s and ran his tongue along the colonel’s jaw, gripped the proud chin and turned it, and then attacked the exposed ear. Roy thrashed, bestial sounds—whimpers, groans, growls—emanating from passion-reddened lips. He arched his neck, begging with his body, and his lover answered with lips, tongue, and teeth against the offered column.

When that deep voice began to cry out with nearly every push, Hughes knew Roy was almost there. He moved into him harder, faster, sounds of his own undoing escaping him more frequently as well, and it had never been quite like this (not that it hadn’t been this good, just never this *way*!), and he couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty for the thought.

“Don’t stop,” Roy gasped. “God—so damn—gah!—good—”

And Christ, that *voice*, pleading, urging, Mustang was *vocal* during sex and it stoked the fire inside the older man into a raging inferno. The lieutenant colonel shoved his other arm under the younger man’s other leg and leaned forward until Roy’s knees were almost touching his chest. The new angle added power to his thrusts, and he granted the alchemist no more mercy as he used that fact to his advantage. At one point he hit Roy’s sweet spot full on, and the colonel *screamed*, the sound like a man in agony, yet the look that twisted his handsome features was one of pure ecstasy. Almost; he was almost there, his penis dark with blood and throbbing, each pulse sending out a tiny river of pre-cum. He writhed as much as Hughes’s grip on him allowed, flinging little droplets of sweat as he tossed his head like the creature that shared his name.

And Hughes was right there with him, gasping, thrusts harsh and wild, hands gripping slick skin tightly enough to bruise. Roy tried to stifle his cries as he felt his end coming, and only half succeeded. He reached his zenith and teetered on its point, and for an instant he was paralyzed as it shook him, mouth open, unable to make any sound at all. Then the taller soldier rammed into him almost brutally several times, hitting *that* place each time, and he was matching it as best as he could, and he was going taut, eyes stinging, vision blurring—

Everything went black, scattered with tiny bits of piercing brightness; it might have been instantaneous, or it might have lasted for several minutes. All he knew was that when he could see again, the shudders were dying away, his breathing was returning to normal, and he was sinking into a warm, wholly satisfied state.

He wasn’t sure what he had screamed to made his throat so raw, but he thought it might have been his friend’s name. He could not seem to recall if Maes had made any noise during his release, because all the taller man was doing now was panting softly against his neck. He smiled the smile of those who have just experienced *really* good sex for the first time, and idly stroked his subordinate’s side, the only place he could reach without moving his tired arms too much.

They stayed that way for some time, neither wanting to spoil the afterglow with chatter, yet each aware of questions that needed to be asked, and answers that needed to be given.

Suddenly, Hughes stiffened and cursed under his breath. Roy blinked at him, confused.

“What’s wrong?”

The hazel-eyed soldier thumped the mattress with his fist. “I’m such an *idiot*! I forgot the most important thing: protection.” It was too late now, and they both knew it, but the older man was taking his negligence hard. “That’s the stupidest thing you can do when you have sex, and I did it. I can’t believe this! Roy, I’m so—”

“Don’t,” Roy interrupted quietly. “It’s all right. You’ve only ever been with Gracia, and I know for a fact I’m clean, so don’t worry about it, okay?” He bit his lip. “The thing is, I thought about that when we started, but I was…distracted, soon after.”

The tension oozed out of Hughes’s body, and he settled back onto his friend. “As long as you’re not angry,” he said with a sigh.

“Mmf,” Roy grunted. “I’m not, but you’re a bit heavy. As soon as you’re able, perhaps you could move?”

“I can move now, if you want,” the other offered.

Upon further consideration, Roy shook his head. “No. I think if you get up right now, I’ll be cold.”

Hughes chuckled, warmth gusting across the colonel’s shoulder. “Heaven forbid the Flame Alchemist be cold.”

“And I’m tired,” Roy defended. “And I think you’re supposed to cuddle afterwards, if you’re doing it right. So no, you stay right there.”

Now the lieutenant colonel was quivering all over with laughter. “You’re not just sexy, you’re also a cuddler. Whoever you marry is going to be a very lucky woman! I can’t wait for her to come and thank me for taking off your training wheels!”

“She won’t,” the dark-eyed man huffed, “Because I’m never telling her where I learned what I now know. Never, and stop laughing at me.”

“And if you marry Riza, you’ll have beautiful, deadly babies,” Hughes continued unabated. Roy cringed; he was starting to get that happy, dopey sparkle in his eyes (the one he got when he talked about his beautiful wife and daughter).

“Maes—”

“And I get to be their godfather, right?”

“Sure, but—”

“And when Alicia is big enough, she can babysit them, and take lots and lots of pictures!”

Roy let out a long, soft sigh, and did the only thing one can do when he has just had his first sex with his best friend, who will now not shut up. He closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

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