Once Upon A Night in Ishbal

A/N:

So, this is a very dark story with a happy ending.

Warnings: Noncon, violence.
Pairing: Hakuro x Roy, Hughes x Roy

Fullmetal Alchemist and all the characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa, not me. If they belonged to me, I assure you, things would be different

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"You okay, Roy?" Hughes asked slowly from behind his glass of whisky. Roy stiffened for the briefest moment, black eyes flickering down to his wrists before returning to stare back into the other's. "Just tired." he said with a faint smile, tipping back his own drink and letting the fiery liquid burn down his throat. Maes frowned but said nothing, taking another gulp of his whisky. "If you say so." he sighed, setting his glass down on the bar and standing up.

"I gotta go, I promised i'd be home in time to tuck Elysia in." he said, setting a few sens down beside the empty drink. "Have a good night, Roy. Try and get some sleep, you look exhausted."

Roy nodded vaguely, giving the other man another small smile. "See you tomorrow, Hughes." he murmured, staring down into the amber liquid in his glass.

Once he was alone, a graceful hand tentatively pulled back his sleeve, exposing the dark, angry ring of bruises and shiny red welts that stood out against his pale flesh like a weed among a bed of roses. He sighed softly and tugged his sleeve back down, tossing money on the bar for the drink and standing to go, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He couldn't dawdle, he had a date.

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Roy collapsed on his bed, every inch of his being screaming for sleep. He kicked his boots off and struggled his uniform pants and jacket off, giving up on the shirt when he couldn't get his numb fingers to work the buttons. His whole body ached, pain throbbing dully in his skull. A faint wetness made his boxers stick to his ass and thighs, but he was just too tired and sore to care.

He couldn't remember when he had first started to sleep with the upper command. He remembered being a hotshot Major and receiving a call from Brigadier General Basque Gran saying that General Hammond wished to see him. The larger man had overpowered him then, stripped him of his gloves and raped him right there in his office.

He'd been told to keep his mouth shut and given a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. From that point forward, he learned the way to the top wasn't through alchemy or his military prowess, but through his ability to take what the General's dished out and to keep mum about it.

"Hughes.." he mumbled, pulling one of his pillows to his chest and hugging it, arms and legs wrapped around it. He smiled ever so slightly as his mind took him to a faraway desert one freezing night in a long, lost memory of a ghost of a past. They had both been quite drunk, Hughes especially so, when they had made love. It was the first good night of sleep he had gotten since they had arrived in that Ishbalan hell, warm against his best friend's chest. He had woken up to find his cot empty, save himself. They had not spoken about what had happened that night, and sometimes Roy doubted Maes even remembered that they had lain together at all. A few months later, he announced his engagement to his soon to be wife, Gracia. Roy may have felt like crying, but he played the part of the happy best friend and best man, proud of the perfect couple on their wedding day. The next day, Hammond had raped him.

Roy closed his eyes tight, willing himself to fall asleep. Tomorrow he had another 'date' with General Frome. The kind, gentle family man preferred to come to his home and beat him to within an inch of his life before handcuffing him to the bed and raping him until he had his fill, as opposed to the other Generals who enjoyed taking him in their own homes or offices. Either way, his role was the boot licking, ladder-climbing subordinate who would do anything for a promotion.

He had made a promise, after all. A promise to himself, to the Ishbalans he had slaughtered, to the Amestrians who suffered under a cruel dictatorship, but most importantly to Maes. He loved him. Not just as a friend or brother, but as something much, much more. Ever since that far away night in Ishbal spent in that man's arms. But... Hughes had a wife and child, now. He had no business in dredging up the past event the green eyed man probably didn't remember or wanted to remember.

He felt exhaustion finally tugging at his consciousness and willingly surrendered to the blissfully silent darkness.

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"You look like death warmed over, Roy." Maes commented as he stowed away the latest stack of Elysia themed photographs. The office was empty, save themselves, for everyone else had disappeared the moment the Lieutenant Colonel had entered the office.

Roy pulled his gloved hand away from his throbbing temple, eyebrow twitching ever so slightly. "Could it possibly be because you spent the last hour shoving photographs of your daughter with a hat on in my face?" he asked through gritted teeth. Maes frowned and pulled out one of the pictures and kissed it, a silly grin on his face as he held it up for Roy. "But isn't she just so precious? How can you see that adorable little face and not smile just a little?" he cried, setting it down on Roy's desk. "You can keep it, to make you feel better." he said sagely, pausing in the door frame on his way out. "Get some sleep, Roy. You're as pale as a ghost." he murmured, a small smile on his face before he left.

Roy slowly picked up the picture, one of Maes and Elysia playing together. He ripped it in half and tossed Elysia into the trash, his eyes flickering over the remaining piece. A faint smile twitched at the corner of his mouth at the signature goofy expression on the man's face and he sighed. He looked around the office before he pressed his lips to the picture, tears burning in his eyes.

His watch ticked loudly in the silent office, reminding him he would be late for his 'date' if he didn't get going. He sighed and tucked the photo into his pocket, feeling ridiculous as he stood and pulled his jacket on. Maes was his best friend. A man. He was married and had a daughter. Roy was like fifth wheel. An unnecessary burden.

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Roy's black eyes regarded the man sitting on his bed with a hopeless, desperate gleam, knowing it would please the General. Frome smirked and gestured him closer, uncrossing his legs. He took the hint and slowly fell to his knees in front of him, finding the polished black boots and stroking his tongue over the leather, hands massaging the man's calf.

"Good boy." Frome purred, gripping his hair tightly and yanking him upward. "Now suck me.. and if you do a good job, I might clean you up when i'm done."

He knew it was a lie, but Roy smiled anyway as he was expected to and undid the blonde man's blue military pants, pulling them back to allow his cock to spring free. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat when the leather tip of a riding crop traced on his back, over his uniform. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend it was Maes whose legs he was kneeled between; Maes cock in his mouth, Maes who was hitting him again and again with the crop, hard enough to leave bruises. Because, as long as it was Maes and not another man who was abusing him, climaxing in his mouth and choking him with his thick flesh as he shoved his head down on it than everything could be okay.

Pain, darkness. The sound of harsh grunting in his ear and the sharp clink of metal cuffs on the metal bars of the headboard. His own cries of pain as he was slowly ripped in half, the snap of the crop on his flesh.

And then silence.

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"Roy?"

His eyes snapped open and he regarded the shadow in the doorway. Moonlight filtered in through the window, exposing and accenting every bruise and gash on his flesh and the dried blood and semen between his thighs and on the sheets.

"Maes."

The other man moved forward, eyes wide, dropping the bag of groceries on the floor and standing over him, afraid to touch the frail, breakable looking alchemist on the bed. Roy heard the tinkle of breaking glass and let his eyes slip shut once more, willing the older man to disappear and leave him to wallow in his misery alone.

"I came.. to see if you were feeling any better.. and to bring you some proper food.." he murmured, green eyes roaming over every scar, old and new, that marred his pale, ivory skin. "What happened, Roy?"

Roy said nothing, simply laying there and hoping that if he pretended to be asleep than Maes would just leave him be and he could pretend that his secret love had not seen him here covered in another man's stain.

Hughes sighed softly and Roy grunted with surprised when strong arms slid under his ruined body, lifting him off the bed with ease. "M-Maes..?" he asked hoarsely, too weak to do more than let the other carry him into the bathroom and set him in the bathtub. Gentle hands removed the remains of his clothing, little more than his tattered shirt and socks, careful to avoid touching any of the painful wounds. "Just relax, Roy.." he said softly, green eyes unfathomable behind his rectangular glasses.

Roy obliged, letting his eyes close once more as warm water suddenly sprayed over his chest. He heard Maes grab the showerhead and bring it closer, carefully cleansing the blood and semen from his body, using a damp washcloth to blot the wounds clean. The smaller man was quiet, save the occasional sharp intake of breath when a particularly sensitive wound was touched.

"Who did this to you?" he asked quietly, turning off the water and swaddling Roy in a thick, fluffy towel, carrying him into the living room and away from the filthy bed, cradling him in his lap on the couch. The alchemist said nothing, giving into his weakness and letting his wet head fall against Maes' shoulder, inhaling the warm, comforting scent of the man he adored. "Roy. Tell me!" Hughes demanded, not so softly anymore.

Roy swallowed and clenched his eyes shut, his arms clutched to his chest in the towel that cocooned him and prevented all possible escape. He opened his mouth and no noise came out, making him frown and burrow closer to the other, hoping he wouldn't have to answer.

"ROY." Maes growled threateningly, shaking him slightly. The smaller brunette swallowed thickly and opened his black eyes, staring at the strong, proud curve of Maes' stubbled jaw. He remembered what it was like to feel those rough kisses, unshaven beard roughly scratching up his chin and cheeks and how wonderful it was to-

"Roy, I demand an answer or I will dump a bucket of cold water on you." Hughes interrupted his reverie, green eyes flashing with promise. He sighed softly and his eyelids fell until only narrow slits remained. "Frome." he said finally, the word falling from his lips like so much dead, lifeless weight.

"Frome? But why? Roy, you have your gloves, why didn't you just fight him off...?" Maes asked softly, confusion evident in his tone. Roy swallowed thickly, closing his eyes the rest of the way to block out the look on his love's face as the wheels slowly turned and the puzzle pieces fell into place.

"You.. You let him do this to you? Roy?"

He couldn't bring himself to respond, but his silence was a damning enough answer by itself. He felt Maes' Adams apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, digesting the information as it all came together, two plus two finally coming out to equal four. "But why would you do that..?"

Silence. He couldn't do it, he couldn't tell him the truth. Couldn't admit he sold his body for promotions while all the while pining after the man who held him and comforted him so sweetly and gently. And then, as if of their own volition, the words began to tumble out. Jumbled at first, but gaining clarity as his confession poured out of him like a river that had burst its dam, completely beyond his control. Once it was over, he simply lay against Maes, feeling dried up and used up and awaiting the moment the bespectacled man shoved his filthy body off his lap and made an exit, stage right.

Instead, Maes clutched him closer, burying his face in Roy's hair, his body shaking slightly, whether from anger, disgust or sorrow he couldn't tell. He felt wetness on his head and knew that his best friend was crying. For him?

He snaked a hand free of the towel, backing away from Maes to brush his tears away, feeling his own sorrow began to manifest as rivulets of salty water down his cheeks. "Please.. Please don't cry.. I brought it on myself, it's my fault.." he whispered hoarsely, voice cracking with emotion. Hughes frowned and slid his hand over Roy's, resting against cheek. "Don't say that, Roy. You were raped. None of this is your fault." he said softly, turning his head to kiss his palm.

Roy felt his blood began to rush, incapable of accepting that Maes was touching him like this, cradling his naked, albeit towel wrapped, body in his lap and kissing his hand. He had to be dreaming. A wonderful, beautiful dream that would lead to sorrow and pain when he awoke, but, for the moment, a blissful mirage he never wanted to awaken from. "Maes..?" he trailed off uncertainly, his eyes widening when gentle lips pressed to his, his hand moving to clutch at the front of the older man's shirt, trembling violently.

"I'm sorry." Hughes grunted, pulling away and wiping his mouth, cheeks burning with discomfort at his rashness. "I didn't mean to, I just.."

Roy said nothing, fisting his shaking hand in Maes' shirt and pulling him back down for another longing kiss, whimpering softly as fresh tears tracked down his pale cheeks. "Please.. Please, don't leave me.." he begged against Maes' lips, black eyes shining from his crying, reflecting the moonlight that poured in from the open curtains.

"Roy.. I.. Gracia.. Elysia.." he trailed off, his voice full of conflicted pain and sorrow, with a regretful edge that tore at Roy's heart. The smaller man swallowed and forced a smile on his face, sliding off of Hughes' lap and wrapping the towel tight around himself. "Of course... Go back to them, they're probably worried about you.. You don't even remember, anyway, so what does it matter...?" he whispered, trying to keep down the sadness that threatened to consume him. He was going to be alone again. Nothing had changed. Maes would go away and pretend this had never happened, he would continue to give himself to the Command as a plaything in exchange for the promise of an eventual promotion or a good report and he would never be held or touched so gentle ever again.

Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, holding him tight and he felt a pair of lips on his neck. "Roy.. I.. Ever since.. What happened in Ishbal.. I.. I wanted you.. But I was afraid.. that you did not want me.. You were always the ladies man, after all.. And we were friends! I married Gracia to distance myself from my desires.. but I never forgot, Roy.. I never forgot!" he protested, trembling against Roy's back.

He turned in Maes' grasp and threw his arms around his neck, not caring that allowed the towel to fall to the floor as he pressed hard against the other man's body. "Maes.. Maes.. I never forgot.. I always wanted you! Ever since that night all i've wanted is you and it's not fair because you wanted me too and now-!" he cried, his sentence cut off by a pair of desperate lips against his, bodies crushed together as if an iota of space between them would separate them for the rest of eternity. "Damn you, Roy Mustang! What do you think you're doing, letting those other men touch you?!" Hughes demanded breathlessly, still clutching the smaller man against his body.

"I just wanted to make our dream come true! To become Fuehrer at all costs and redeem myself and to keep my promise to you!" Roy whispered painfully, his face etched with sorrow and fear. "That's how you get promoted to the top, Maes! They don't care if you're good at alchemy or a genius or a gifted tactician! They just care if you know the right things to say and do to get them off before they return home to their wives and children!"

Maes slapped Roy, making the alchemist reel backwards, hand on his cheek and eyes wide with shock. "Maes?"

"You listen here, Mustang, and you listen well!" Maes growled, his voice as deadly serious as the time he had walked into Roy's apartment and discovered he had been committing taboos. "You will stop selling yourself to the Generals like a common whore! You will get back on your feet and hold your head high and claw your way to the top by being the smartest, most connected, gifted man in the military, not by letting yourself get fucked into your mattress until you can't move! ARE WE CLEAR, SOLDIER!?" he roared, eyes blazing with fury.

Roy stiffened and automatically saluted at the tone of his voice, swallowing thickly. "Yes, sir." he said softly. He didn't seem any different, unless one looked into those pitch black eyes. Once lackluster and devoid of life, they now burned with rekindled desire and ambition. The desire to get to the top and to achieve his goals, for Maes, for the Ishbalans and for the Amestrians.. and for himself. For his redemption and his satisfaction.

Maes sensed the change and relaxed, a wry smile gracing his lips as he tugged Roy close. "I always knew it only took a good slap to make a tamed Mustang go wild once more." he chuckled, burying his face in the alchemist's damp, black hair.

Roy couldn't help but smile back, circling his arms around Maes' waist with a soft sigh. "Maybe next time, not so hard? How will I explain my bruised cheek to Hawkeye tomorrow?"

Maes shook his head but said nothing in reply, picking up the towel and sliding it around Roy once more. "Come on, you goof. Let me change your sheets and get you into bed."

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Two months later, Roy lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a bemused expression on his face. Much had changed since that night. His wounds had healed and despite numerous threats on his life and ranking, he had refused to return to selling himself for promotions. Part of him wondered if it was because of his returning pride or whether it was because it was Maes who had shown him the way out. He figured it was probably a combination of the two, since it was always Maes who got him out of his deep ruts in the past.

All these changes were expected, though. At least by him, anyway. Even at his lowest he never fully believed he would remain a whore of the military the rest of his career. After all, who does one sleep with to get promoted to Fuehrer? Who would respect and honor the commands of a Fuehrer whose gift lay in blow jobs and rough sex?

No, Roy always knew he'd eventually get out of the 'dating' business. The biggest change in his life came in a much, much different form.

"You okay, Roy?" Maes asked softly, sitting up and cupping his cheek, concern etched in his face. The blankets shifted to pool at his waist as he leaned over the smaller brunette. Roy smiled, the first true smile to grace his lips in many months, and slid his arms around Maes' neck, pulling him down on top of him. "I'm good, Maes. Everything is good."

In the end, Maes didn't leave Gracia. He and the older man had discussed it for a very long time. The simple answer was that there wasn't one. Hughes loved Gracia and Elysia, but he also loved Roy. He couldn't live without any of them, and Roy had to agree. If Hughes kicked Gracia to the curb simply because he realized his affections were returned, he would have lost a little respect for the man. But he knew Maes wasn't like that. He was an honorable man who stuck by his vows and promises, no matter what. For now, Roy was the mistress, for all intents and purposes. The courtesan of night, and occasionally, day. Every once in a while it got lonely, wishing for Hughes and knowing he was home with his wife and daughter., but looking up at Maes as a smile spread across his face, leaning down to steal another kiss from his black haired alchemist, Roy supposed it would suffice.