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Birthday Suit	By : ibshafer Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 5127 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Title: Birthday Cake (Birthday Suit – Chapter 2)

Part: 2/2

Author: ibshafer

Rating: NC-17, yaoi

Character/Pairing: EdXRoy

Disclaimer: I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let
me spin them around the page now and then.

Summary: Now that dinner’s been eaten, can dessert be far behind…?

Warnings: fairly graphic sex – OK, full on lemon…

Genre: Fullmetal Alchemist yaoi fluff+

Spoilers: none; AU – heavy

Feedback: yes, please!

A/N: It’s been nearly a year since Birthday Suit was written for a most auspicious
occasion – the birthday of the lovely and talented inugrlrayn which means, dear readers,
that it is once again, Rachel’s birthday, so please join me in wishing her a wonderful day
filled with happiness and, perhaps, just perhaps, a little yaoi… Happy Birthday, girlie!
Love you lots!

P.S. to the A/N: I know I shorted you out of the lemon last time; hope this makes up for
leaving you hanging…

Birthday Cake

~ibshafer

Oh, just look at him…

Biting his lip, Roy just barely managed to stifle the laugh making its way, its
uncharacteristically giddy way, up from his belly.

One hand firmly grasping his, the other clutching an ornate wooden box as if it were a
life preserver, Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, looked like, well, not unlike a
lamb on its way to the slaughter.

Which was odd, seeing as how he, Roy, by virtue of that same wooden box – and the
occasion of Edward’s18^th birthday – was, in point of fact, the one tonight actually playing
the role of the…

The General’s palm suddenly slipped on the polished wooden banister, sweaty in spite of
his unerring Roy Mustang cool and a physical carriage that spoke of complete and total
mastery of all he surveyed, every situation, both professional and sexual and, yes, even
the one he was currently (was his mouth suddenly dry?) about to embark upon, a line one
could never uncross, a road down which he could never come back, a cliché he could
never look straight in the face again…

Oh, god, I don’t know which one of us is more nervous.

As they headed up the stairs, Roy couldn’t help but think that Edward was gripping his
hand rather like he had their first night together some two years ago.

What does he have to be so nervous about? I’m the one who should be having words of
reassurance and flattery lavished upon him.

His inner Mustang, always a little amnesiac, was acting more like a skittish colt than the
seasoned, experienced lover that he was. (Roy cringed at his own metaphor – ‘skittish
colt’ – making a mental promise, now that he’d turned that particular phrase on himself,
to never use it to describe anyone, in any situation, ever again. Ever.)

Corny phrases and selective amnesia aside, something was squeezing his heart –
squeezing it so hard and fast he swore he could see the front of his starched blue dress
shirt moving.

He really couldn’t understand why he was so nervous – or why inner-Roy was so
nervous; had he (it) forgotten that epiphanous, exhilarating, frightening moment when he
had realized that more than any one thing, any object or accessory or, for that matter, any
food, he might find in some store or shop (or deli), that there was one thing he could give
Edward that would mean more than some material object, no matter how well-thought
out or much-requested.

And no, he wasn’t talking about that.

Edward wanted his heart.

Did Edward realize – of course, he did – that in giving this particular, weighty gift,
tangibly embodied by an elaborate wooden box – and all that it implied – that more than
just giving himself, submitting himself to Edward’s not inconsiderable will, that he was,
in doing so, giving more, so very much more than that…

Three little words.

Three little words he had never before said.

Three little words that he couldn’t say now.

And this would have to do.

His heart.

In the guise of a beautiful, wooden box inlaid with semi-precious stones and lined with
plush velvet, wherein lay the means to, for lack of a better word, an end…

So, really, what was there to be nervous about? He was getting off easy here, wasn’t he?

He had no doubt, fears (physical and psychological) aside, that the evening would be a
rousing, sweaty, exhausting success, and that Edward would feel, and perhaps already did
feel, …well, loved...

Was Roy Mustang just about the biggest coward there was – or what?

I trust him. I more than trust him.

So what if I can’t say It? He should know It.

Shouldn’t he?

Roy sometimes wondered what the young man really wanted.

There were times, like, say, thirty minutes ago, when Edward seemed so…focused on
Roy, so hungry for him, as hungry as only an 18-year old could be, that the mere thought
of the boy and all that focus, left Roy breathless.

Edward Elric was, for want of a better cliché, a freaking force of nature, just as
undeniable and just as exciting.

And it was true what they said about teenagers – they really were ‘walking hormones.’

Roy was more than happy to avail himself of Edward’s easily aroused appetites, the truth
was he had always had a bit of an appetite himself, but there was a tiny portion of his
brain – the one usually reserved for self-doubt – that wondered if maybe, just maybe that
was all this whole thing was to the young man?

An outlet.

But even as the thought was crossing his mind, Roy was cursing himself for letting it.

He knew damn well that Edward gave himself, in anything, only reluctantly.

He had lost so much in his young life. While he threw his body around recklessly, he was
careful with both his mind and his heart.

Their relationship had not come easily and their first coupling, more epiphany than
sacrifice, had been the culmination of years of longing for Edward, and studied restraint
for Mustang. The night (and the following week) had been a revelation for both of them
as they discovered each other, exhausted each other, fought like hell and, afterwards,
loved with complete and utter abandon.

Setting the hard won exuberance with which Edward approached their relationship aside,
there were other signs that Roy could not ignore…

The flush that rose to Edward’s cheeks when he didn’t realize Roy was watching him
watch him.

The tiny smile, self-satisfied and almost embarrassed by it, when Roy had come at his
hands.

The utter gratitude that tinged his voice, hoarse from release and breathless, when Roy
had kissed him and loved him and held him close after it was all over.

Oh, god…

For a moment he considered releasing Edward’s hand, flesh and blood and just-as-sweaty
as his own, so that he could fish a handkerchief out of his pocket to dry his palms with,
but then thought better of it, because just then he didn’t want to let go.

He could feel the young man’s pulse, hummingbird fast, through his heated skin and he
was flattered and awed by the implicit compliment.

‘Roy Mustang, this is what you do to me…’

Roy was struck just then by the overwhelming urge to kiss him, to grab that barely
contained bundle of nervous energy, press him hard and fast against the wall outside his
bedroom, and worship him…

But...

But this was Edward’s day.

Edward’s to decide.

Edward’s to command.

Edward’s to take him and claim him and…

A deep well of want opened up in his chest, a feeling that so surprised him he stopped
dead in his tracks, still clutching that warm, strong hand in his. He felt blood rush from
the well, circle his heart once, then race between his legs to refuel his desire.

Roy only realized he was frozen on the spot when that strong hand squeezed his, pulling
him from his trance.

“Hey,” Edward said, voice faltering. “Y-you’re not having second thoughts, are you?
‘C-cuz it’s okay if you are. I mean—”

Roy turned to look at him and his heart thudded against his ribs: amber eyes wide, face
white as a sheet, Edward’s own desire, rather than be thwarted by his nerves, stood in
defiance of them, clearly outlined against the stiff blue fabric of his trousers.

O-oh, god…

Roy’s own manhood, never one to miss a visual cue, took that opportunity to remind Roy
that it still had some unfinished business with the owner of that visual cue…

‘C’mon, now, General, I know for a fact that you didn’t…complete your last mission…’

Second thoughts?

His throat suddenly dry, Roy swallowed once and shook his head.

“Quite the contrary, Edward.”

The young man flushed at this, then managed a tiny smile.

“Good,” he said in a voice so soft Roy wouldn’t have known he’d spoken if he hadn’t
seen his lips move.

And then, because he couldn’t resist any longer, Roy leaned forward and kissed him,
(though only briefly, so as not to affect the delicate balance of power here), running the
tip of his tongue over those plump curves, delving deeper, before drawing away.

With a theatrical flourish, he threw open the bedroom door and bowed deeply, inviting
Edward to enter first.

The gesture was not lost on the young man, still flushing hotly from the kiss, lips still
curved to it, the faintest look of confusion on his face. He responded by giving an
awkward little bow himself, then stepped inside, box still clutched beneath a metal arm.

To distract himself from that beautiful, flushed face (Edward had put the dress shirt back
on, but it was unbuttoned, and Roy couldn’t help noticing that the flush was
everywhere…) and what could quickly become a bad case of nerves if he let it, Roy set
about readying the bed, pulling back the rich silk comforter, fluffing the pillows.

By now, he was quite incredibly aroused, more so than he could ever remember being.
Part of it could be owed to the response his body normally called forth at this point in the
proceedings; part of it belonged to the auspicious nature of the night ahead.

In spite of himself, in spite of that auspicious night, Roy had to suppress a chuckle.

So much pomp and circumstance, so much reverence, for what some would call a simple
animal instinct; something many people did without thinking, often, without
remembering...

Roy had forgotten when he’d lost his virginity (and even to whom), but he would never
forget the particular night he’d lost something else...

The last time (the first time...) he had been inebriated, unprepared and, frankly, more than
a little surprised.

Already a seasoned ladies’ man at twenty-two, he had assumed his role as aggressor was
obvious...

Unplanned, there had been no conversation beforehand, just rough fumbling hands and
breathless, awkward kisses. When the moment was reached, when he felt himself being
turned around, he was far too drunk to stop it.

In the end, there was pleasure, but not before a fair amount of pain and, even drunk, even
sated, an equally ample amount of shame...

The shame of submitting; of, in his own eyes, becoming less of a man for the act.

But that was many years ago with a man he hardly knew and, thankfully, never saw
again.

What he had now with this young man was so much more than that, was more, in fact,
than anything he had ever had or even hoped to have, with any woman in his life. He
cared more for Edward, for his hopes and his dreams, then he sometimes cared for his
own and it was this feeling that fueled his desire - to give to Edward a thing he did not
easily relinquish.

Control.

He has to know how hard it is for me to give that up, even if he doesn’t know why. Even
for the right reasons...

He knew his own face was flushed and he was sure Edward could see it; he was forever
commenting on how fair Roy’s skin was – ‘like a china doll’ – and he clearly thought the
idea of a blushing Roy Mustang both endearing and arousing. (And, depending on his
mood, also quite amusing...)

Edward was always such a speed demon in the final approach to sex, shedding clothes
and accessories with such aplomb that days later, Roy would find socks and briefs in odd
places – behind the furniture or hanging from light fixtures… Roy would beg him to slow
down, way down, explaining that sometimes the unveiling of skin, his, the
aforementioned china white, Edward’s smooth and golden, was the best part of, as
Edward so charmingly called it, ‘the pre-game show.’

But instead of his usual gleeful disrobing, Edward now sat stiffly on the end of the bed,
face red, eyes unfocused, still fully clothed.

Now there’s something I never would have expected…

Edward was usually so bold.

Edward was usually so impatient.

Edward was usually so...

Well, I’ll be. He’s scared to death.

Roy had to hold himself back; the urge to gather the boy (he really shouldn’t call him
that anymore, but old habits…) into his arms and soothe him was extreme, but he sensed
it might just be counterproductive. The balance of power was a delicate one indeed.

Edward had learned so much in the two years they’d been together. He’d overcome his
beginner’s fears, overcome his embarrassment, and learned it was all right, that it was in
fact, just right, to ask for what he wanted.

In short, he’d learned it was okay to be Edward, even in bed.

That lesson finally learned, he could actually be a demanding little demon when the
mood struck him, which, Mustang had noted with no small amount of excitement, it had
with increasing frequency these past few months.

Edward was becoming a man.

At Roy’s hands, he was learning to want – not just to get, but to give.

In contrast to his usual nature, which was a demanding one to begin with, Edward had
actually been fairly diplomatic in this particular sexual request.

As diplomatic as Edward could get, anyway…

‘Diplomatic’ for Edward wasn’t the same animal as diplomatic for anyone else (“Why am
I always the girl? Is it because I’m younger? It better not be because I’m sm-”) He
always caught himself before he finished that word.

But, no – he’d been diplomatic and respectful (imagine that!) and pretty damned
insistent. (What a concept! Edward? Insistent?!)

Which made his behavior now, on the cusp of gaining what he had so long sought, that
much odder.

Or not…

Edward always took everything in stride. He was the consummate ‘adapter,’ but for a
moment, Mustang wondered if this was all just too much for him – too much to think
about, too much to worry about, too much to feel.

Too much…

That was it.

This night - everything it meant, and all that was to come - it was too much...

Roy chastised himself for being slower on the uptake than he usually prided himself on
being.

It was clear now; at the moment, Edward Elric was the sexual equivalent of a 5-year old
with too much sugar in his system.

He was overstimulated…

Now that Roy really looked at the expression on his face, it wasn’t so much a non-expression, as it was an expression of honest, frozen pain.

He snuck a quick glance to the young man’s lap and winced.

That’s got to hurt.

Roy felt himself flush.

How’s that for flattery?

He considered his choices.

Proceed with Plan A: “Edward Gets To Drive,” (another one of Edward’s charming
euphemisms), and, judging from the young man’s current state, it would be a short ride
indeed…

Or…

Plan B: “Operation: Escape Valve…”

Looking at his young lover, frozen with want and unable to move, he just knew he
couldn’t leave him that way.

How could he?

Not only would it be inexcusably cruel, ...without a little tension release their night
would be over before it even started. And Roy would be lying if he said he hadn’t been
dying to put his hands all over the boy since the instant he had walked through the door.

Seeing him in that crisp blue uniform, braids and buttons bringing out the fire in rich
amber eyes and lustrous golden hair, the dignified military back pleat (‘butt skirt!’) only
serving to highlight the most perfect rump yet created, was something he’d been
fantasizing about for far longer than he was comfortable admitting. Doing so would be
tantamount to admitting he’d taken a less-than-professional interest in a far-too-young
Fullmetal Alchemist very...early in his military career. And that was a number he had
pretty much expunged from his memory...

Dropping the shirt he’d been removing when he’d realized Edward’s predicament
(which, now that he thought about it, very likely contributed to that predicament –
Edward was pretty responsive to visual stimuli himself…), he took a step to the end of the
bed and placed a soft kiss on the young man’s forehead.

Tense beyond even normal Edward Elric tension, Edward flinched and colored sharply.

“Edward,” Roy whispered, inches from his face.

“What?” he gasped, gripping the box against his chest, barely able to look him in the eye.

Roy smiled. Man, he was so friggin’ cute.

I’ll have to show him just how cute he is…

“Well, Edward…” Covering the young man’s clenched hands with his own, Roy gently
began to pry those fingers, steel and flesh, away from the ornate wooden box. “I was just
thinking that I really should help you out here…”

Steeped in hormones and very likely still suffering from sugar shock (Pudding!
Chocolate cake! Apple fritters!), Edward was uncharacteristically confused.

“I don’t need any help letting go of the box, Roy,” he huffed, pupils still dilated.

“I’m not talking about the box, Edward.” Hands now clear of the it, Edward’s vise grip
relaxed and Roy was able to finally set the object of Edward’s distraction onto the bed
beside them. He drew his own hands up to frame that beautiful face, leaned in to kiss him
quickly, then slid to his knees. “I was talking about this little problem of yours…”

Edward wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t muster a knee-jerk verbal reaction, but the
fight was seriously not in him. Even at a time like this (especially at a time like this), he
was still sensitive to words like ‘little,’ ‘small’ and ‘tiny,’ in the description of any part of
his body, though he needn’t have worried; in this one department, that collection of
words most definitely did not apply…

“What’re you callin’ ‘little,’” he breathed, eyebrows pinched, but gaze unfocused.

“Did I say ‘little?’” Roy grinned, eyeing the mound appreciatively. “From this angle, it’s
obvious that it’s a rather large problem…”

‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say something a red-light movie actress might say.’

His own words echoed through his head and he gave an obliging, inward shrug. Even the
great Roy Mustang, orator of merit, could have a lapse in taste from time to time.

Roy ran a finger beneath Edward’s waistband and the young man gasped, belly jumping.

He began to undo the front of Edward’s trousers, no easy task because the stiff blue
fabric was already pulled so tightly; he knew Edward must be exceedingly
uncomfortable.

He knew this because he was quickly edging towards that feeling himself.

After all, as Edward had so considerately pointed out, while he had, Roy had not...

...Neither one of us is going last long.

Which was fine.

This was just an appetizer, after all. The main course was yet to come.

Roy smiled to himself; Edward loved using food metaphors to describe sex because
doing so combined his two favorite things in this world.

He leaned in closer for a little better fine motor control and was suddenly struck by the
heat coming off the boy, even through his trousers. Heat and musk...

Roy shivered.

God, I want him...

Why is it that on the brink of finally surrendering to him... I...I want him more than ever?

Closing his eyes, he steeled himself, willing his libido to just calm the fuck down.

Edward. This is for Edward. This is all for Edward...

A tiny gasp and his name uttered in a breathless voice. “Roy...”

He looked up to find Edward, chest heaving, regarding him desperately through half-lidded eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t be c-complaining right now,” he said, voice faltering. “But this isn’t
how tonight was s-supposed to go...” He drew in a quick breath and bit his lip as Roy
stroked the smooth skin below his exposed navel. “Y-you don’t need to...” He started to
elbow himself into a more upright position, wincing at his discomfort. “I’m fine. Really.
Let me worry about you...”

Oh, my. Now there’s a humbling thought.

Edward, in his most...relaxed times, (translation: post-coital) would be the first one to
admit that he was a little self-involved.

If you tickled him and kissed him in all the right places, he might even admit that that
singular focus pretty much applied to all aspects of his life.

When Edward wanted something, he wanted it now and you had better not try to keep
him from it, talk him out of it, or eat it before he could...

Which is what made his last statement, and the sentiment behind it, even more stunning.

Here he was, in spite of his rather obvious discomfort, practically begging to ‘let Roy go
first...’ (Another of Edward’s endearing little phrases.)

Edward was saying ‘no’ to what was clearly a much-needed blow-job because (Roy
suddenly felt himself getting lightheaded...) he wanted desperately to, was redirecting
that singular focus to, ‘make love to Roy...’

If that wasn’t love, then every other description of the word was just plain incorrect.

He wants me.

For the first time in his life, Roy understood, first hand, what the word ‘swoon’ meant...

Oh.... oh my...

Roy suddenly found himself quite breathless and damned if he didn’t feel his blood
betray him and rush headlong to his face where it could be seen by, oh, say, anyone with
eyes.

Feeling unprepared, (yes, even now), to address the implications of this, Roy covered
quickly, dipping his head to place a lingering kiss on Edward’s quivering abdomen.

“There’s plenty of time for me, Edward. In a bit.” He kissed that taut belly again, tracing
a fan of muscle with the tip of his tongue and Edward gasped and giggled at the same
time. “Right now, we need to cool you off a little.” He paused in his exploration of the
contours of Edward’s perfect torso to peer up at the young man. “I’m sorry, Ed. I should
have slowed you down before.”

The wicked smile that followed was both apology and mischief as he breathed hotly
against the smooth skin, curling his tongue into an inviting navel.

Edward covered his face with an automail arm.

Another kiss. Another giggle.

Something in that giggle set off Roy’s memory and he was suddenly treated to a
cinematic recap of their pre-dinner activities...

Edward had been all manic energy, mouth and hands everywhere, grinding against him in
a lovely frenzy (he seemed to remember contributing quite heartily to this), until the lure
of a hardened pink nub was more than Roy could deny...and Edward had come all over
his new military trousers...

“I should have stopped you, Edward, but I didn’t want to.”

The exposed quadrant of face Roy could see below that metal arm was suddenly
animated with the most beatific smile he had ever seen.

The smile spoke volumes about the state of mind of the young man who wore it;
gratitude, love, lust, relief...

He was afraid I’d changed my mind.

Edward bit his lip again and it was all Roy could do not to follow suit.

He was, quite literally, helpless at the young man’s feet.

Well, not altogether helpless.

There was the little matter of an overdue orgasm...

Peeling back the fabric of Edward’s trousers, Roy was happy to note that while the cotton
briefs were soaked, they would not have to perform any more alchemy on Edward’s
uniform tonight. (Not that he didn’t have that task down pat now...)

He could see the boy’s manhood very clearly through his now translucent briefs and for a
moment, as his mouth watered and his own erection threatened to break through to
daylight, he considered drawing him out and just having at it. There was something
damned sexy about giving (or getting) a fully-clothed blow-job; feeling the need so
strongly, so passionately, that you just couldn’t wait…

So close...

But the grown-up part of him was clear-headed enough to remind him that there was still
the ceremony for Edward’s promotion tomorrow and really, didn’t they have better
things to do tonight than laundry?

Taking a deep breath, he slipped his fingers under both waistbands at once and when
Edward obligingly (did he just whimper?) raised his adorable little butt off the bed for a
moment, Roy was able to pull briefs and trousers down at the same time, revealing the
Fullmetal Alchemist in all his splendor. It didn’t hurt that this action brought that
tantalizing mound of heat that much closer to Roy’s face.

Just look at him!

He was so, so beautiful.

He was so, so hard...

It was all Roy could do not to swallow him whole on the spot, but then it would have
over right then and there. There was no need to rush things unduly. Not with Edward
spread so invitingly before him. Not when he was so close he could already taste him.

Another moment to appreciate the wonder that was Edward Elric, then he was nosing
through soft golden curls and inhaling deeply while Edward gasped and shuddered and
pleaded with the sweetest, most breathless voice. (‘P-please, Roy, pleeeze…’)

Reining himself in, he breathed hotly along the boy’s length, to Edward’s answering
moan, then traced the underside with a fingertip, to which Edward responded with a
whimper and a sharp intake of breath. Looking up, he found the young man regarding
him intently and, Roy noted with satisfaction, not a little impatience.

Roy bit his lip to keep from laughing.

He was well familiar with that expression; it was usually accompanied by some frustrated
and none-too-gentle hair tugging - and more often than not, a little swearing.

In spite of Edward’s earlier assertion, not five minutes ago, he was now well and truly
past the point of selflessness.

Ah, there’s the Edward I know...

Deciding he’d tortured his young lover enough, he closed his hand fully around Edward’s
hardened length and the young man thrust upwards sharply with a shuddering cry.

That sound, and the desperate way his fingers wound into Roy’s hair, would quickly be
Roy’s own undoing; he already owed his manhood one release tonight and he was very
primed and incredibly ready…

One hand wrapped around the object of his adoration, the other fisting himself, Roy ran
his tongue from base to tip and then slipped the young man into his mouth.

“Oh-OH!”

Employing is usual masterful technique, he alternated deep draws with tender kisses
along the length, dragging the flat of his tongue across the crown, probing, sucking,
before pulling him once again into his throat. The gasps and cries rising from above him
added fuel to the fire, speeding his ministrations as he pressed the boy’s soft sac with one
hand, massaging and pulling, while the other occupied itself with the rather insistent
concern between his own legs.

And Edward, god bless him, wanted what he wanted...in spite of what he wanted.

“Oh!”

Call it force of habit, call it blind lust, call it that self-same masterful technique, but
damned if he didn’t spread his legs farther apart and cant his hips forward, whimpering
the way he did when he wanted to be made ready.

And it would be so, so easy.

Three seconds...

Three seconds and Roy’s own arousal, hard and already in hand, could be buried deep
inside him.

Roy’s fingers stroked the soft skin of the young man’s inner thigh and as he edged closer,
closer to that spot, Edward invitingly, almost desperately, lifted his hips, clearly
forgetting, now that he was in the heat of it, that this evening was supposed to be about
role reversals...

Forgetting himself for a moment, Roy ran his finger up to and around the young man’s
entrance, caressing him, teasing him.

“Ah-AH!”

Three seconds...

His libido was screaming at him to ‘do it!’ and his manhood was threatening to finish
without him if he didn’t hurry the hell up...

It would be so easy.

It would be so wonderful.

It would be... it would be so wrong.

(And would have made for a most unpleasant morning-after as Edward awoke and
realized that Roy had taken his gift back, stealing his thunder, as it were, if only
temporarily. Not to mention the fact that Roy’s libido seemed to have conveniently
forgotten the need for lube...)

And so, drawing him more deeply into his throat, (Edward’s answering shout was most
gratifying, indeed), he pushed just the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle and
Edward, one toe over the line already, came hard with a gasp and a throaty cry, hands
twined in the crimson silk comforter.

As Roy soothed Edward’s quaking, happily sighing body with equally shaky hands, he
realized, quite breathlessly, that he’d come as well. (He glanced at the comforter, but
decided this particular bit of alchemy could wait until morning...)

Cleaning Edward up with a grateful tongue and tender kisses to his lovely fat crown, Roy
was about to collapse in the young man’s lap - for just a moment - when he felt Edward’s
arms circle his back, lifting him up.

Drawing Roy into an upright position, Edward pulled him close against his chest, holding
him tightly there, chin buried in Roy’s hair as he pressed Roy’s face against his still
heaving chest. With a contented sigh, Roy slipped his arms around the young man’s
smooth back, happily listening to the frantic, slowly winding-down sound of Edward’s
heart. Placing a kiss there, just over the spot, he felt warm and relaxed and sated.

And just when he thought there was nothing else he needed from the moment, he heard
Edward whisper, “I love you, Roy,” then lean forward to kiss the top of his head.

Roy was shocked to realize that though it was evident in everything Edward said, was
subtly slipped in between his words, (even when he was yelling), and clearly written on
his face, (even when he was yelling), this was the first time Edward had actually said it,
spoken it out loud.

This boy, now a man, always so guarded in everything and with everyone, lest he be hurt,
let he hurt them, was and always had been an open book when it came to Roy Mustang.

I wonder what he sees when he looks at me?

I wonder what I would see if I looked at myself?

Would I...?

Roy marveled at how easily those three little words seem to roll from the boy’s mouth, as
though they were always there, just at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be uttered aloud.
Five minutes sooner and Roy would have chalked it up to the kind of tongue loosening
that comes at the height of passion or immediately after climax. Being spoken, as they
were, during the wind-down, when the brain is kicking back in, gave them so much more
weight.

He was quite surprised to realize how fervently he wanted this to be true.

For the first time in his life, with this young man, at this moment, Roy Mustang was in
love.

Of course he was.

More than that, as exhilarating as that realization was in itself, there came another one; he
wanted him. He wanted to give himself to him, wanted to offer himself to this beautiful
young man. To do with as he pleased. However he pleased.

Oh, god...

He felt himself begin to stir again and he realized as the heat rose between them that
Edward had, as well.

Breath deepening, his hands began to slowly explore flushed skin and plant soft kisses at
random points of pleasure: on the boy’s collar bone; his belly; a hardened pink nub.

‘Now,’ he commanded himself, banishing any last minute misgivings he may still have
had.

Extracting himself from the boy’s warm embrace, he rose to his feet, stripped off trousers
and underclothes with practiced grace, then slid himself onto the sheets, relocating the
box, and it’s portentous contents, to the night stand.

“Edward,” he said, his voice a low growl.

He waited, waited until the boy, movements somehow slow, turned to look at him and
then, with a calculated move, he shook out his hair, delivering a smoldering gaze from
behind a fringe of black.

“Make love to me.”

For a moment Roy thought perhaps the young man hadn’t heard him; he sat before him,
suddenly blank-faced, unmoving. Only his coloring cheeks betrayed his comprehension,
but apart from his labored breathing, and a now fully-revived erection, he remained still.

They sat that way, Roy hopelessly aroused, bared before him, Edward turned awkwardly
on his corner of the bed, seemingly in a trance, belly quivering as he breathed, for what
seemed like an endless time, and then suddenly, all at once, the young man pulled his
legs up together onto the mattress and simultaneously spun around in place to face him.

Oh!

Walking himself out onto all fours, Edward crawled towards him, shaking his hair down
around his shoulders, until he’d gained him, moved over him and crouched, hair
feathering Roy’s chest, inches separating them, the heat immense, the hunger in his eyes
almost obscene.

A moment’s pause, in which Roy felt himself held captive, pinned back to the bed by
those smoldering amber eyes, then a flesh hand was slipping behind his neck, fingers
burying themselves in Roy’s hair, and Edward drew Roy towards him, claiming his
mouth, possessing his mouth, drawing him into a kiss so tender, so passionate, that he
could feel it in his chest, in his heart, between his legs, all the way down to his toes.

Oh, my god... Where did he learn to do that?

Edward was usually all wild fire and acrobatics, his athletic, prehensile body coupling
with the passion of his youth (re: boundless energy) to drive Roy madly up one side of
climax and, breathlessly, down the other. But tonight...

Tonight was different.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the power, and the self-possession it spoke of, was,
like Edward himself, a force of nature.

The young man hung over him, mouth at his neck, at that sweet spot he knew was just
behind Roy’s right ear, and the blood thrumming in his ears, singing in his veins, knew a
different song.

He owns me.

With those hands. With that mouth. With...

The young man’s arousal traced a hot, slick pattern on his belly and he couldn’t help
himself, braced himself for it, wanted it.

“Edward, I--” was all he could manage to croak out, throat dry. His head was spinning.
He hadn’t expected it to feel this way, to want him so badly. “How did you...”

When Edward looked at him, eyes embers behind a heavy blond curtain, he felt his
breath catch in his chest.

Ooooh...

“Where do you think, Roy? I learned at the feet of the master.”

tbc...
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Birthday Suit