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• Loyalty	By : RiekaDeVolka Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 715 -:- 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
  • 1-Loyalty
• • 1
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  

  Title: Loyalty.
  
  Pairing/Characters: Frank Archer/Jean Havoc.
  
  Rating: NC-17.
  
  Prompt: You don't really have a choice in the matter, do you?
  
  Word Count: +/- 422.
  
  Notes: For hallidae.

  
  
  

  Loyalty.

  
  
  

  Havoc knows Mustang’s important, knows
  there’s more to the man than the power-hungry, sly son of a bitch that enjoys
  stealing his dates day in and day out. He knows Mustang is just what the
  country needs, what could change their fucked up lives into something better,
  nicer, something that didn’t leave them sleepless at night, thinking of the
  screams and the fire and the war.
  
  He also knows Mustang does not abuse his subordinates, that he didn’t coerce Ed
  into his bed, that he honestly and truly loves the annoying, upbeat brat, that
  he’s willing to risk his neck for him and then some.
  
  But Havoc is not willing to risk Mustang, so he lets himself be coerced
  into bending over the desk and clench his teeth, because Archer is a sick fuck
  with enough bad blood to sell over their Colonel to the Brass for sleeping with
  an underage subordinate and fuck up all their chances of a better future.
  
  Archer twists and pulls and comes inside – in, within, out, outside,
  around, over, above – him, breathing sharp and raged, making him clench his
  eyes tightly shut and desperately hope it’s over.
  
  It’s not and it won’t be over any time soon, because Archer holds the cards and
  Havoc knows it and hates him and himself and Mustang, because if Archer
  weren’t such a bastard and Havoc such a dog and Mustang such a fucking good
  man, then he wouldn’t be sore and dirty and worthless. A fucked up pawn
  in a power game he really doesn’t want to play.
  
  “Don’t feel so bad, Second Lieutenant,” Archer purrs mockingly as he drags his
  hand over his back, nails trailing burning paths over the sensitive skin, “you
  don't really have a choice in the matter, do you?”
  
  And Havoc knows, he knows, and they know and it’s all so terribly fucked
  up. He dresses quickly and efficiently, ignoring the ache that makes his
  movements torpid and the knot of tears stuck in his throat, leaving the room as
  fast as he can, as if running away would fix it, as if ignoring it happened
  would prevent it from happening again. It won’t and it will, and Havoc cries
  bitterly on his bed that night, watching the cigarette consume itself,
  untouched, the mocking laugh ringing between his ears and the shame choking his
  breath.
  
  Loyal, always loyal, the fucking dog. Havoc barks a laugh that’s more a sob
  than anything else, and swears to his own loyalty that Mustang will never know.

  
  
  

   

  
  
  
• • 1
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