This is Exactly What it Looks Like
'How it Could Have Happened'
Edward had never been to His Highness' house before, and his immediate impression upon entering said house was that it was lacking the ostentatious Smarmy Aspects that one would expect of Brigadier-General Roy Mustang. To clarify, Ed wasn't really sure what a Smarmy Aspect was, only that he had been doubly certain that the General would have some. Except he didn't. His house was very warm, actually, very cosy, all dark wood furniture and golden sunlight - there was even a room that wasn't fully decorated with reds or yellows or blacks or browns, and that was the library, which was a very rich, very beautiful green colour.
The room was, literally, a breath of fresh air, for wherever there was space a window had been installed and every single one of them was open. The library was on the second floor so there were no worries about people looking in, although Edward didn't care either way.
"I think you had spoken all of five words to me before losing yourself in these books," said the General. He stood behind Ed, who had immediately gravitated towards a shelf dedicated to renowned alchemical authors.
Edward did not even glance at the man. "Shut the fuck up, bastard," he said, as he hurriedly flipped through 'Brosman's Theory of Interwoven Alchemy'.
"Yes," said His Smarminess, "those were the five words exactly. What good recollection you have."
"I said, shut the fuck up, bastard!"
The General smirked - Edward goddamn knew he did - and inclined his chin. "Such grace, such eloquence," he said sarcastically. "Can you even speak for a good thirty seconds without swearing?"
"You won't be able to fuckin' speak in thirty seconds if you keep pissing me off," Edward snapped. He finally turned around to face the General, one hand fisted, the other shaking from how tightly it grasped the book. "Can't you leave me alone to read your books in peace?"
The General actually pretended to freaking think it over, that's how much of a Smug-Ass Bastard he was. "The possibility is there," he said, his voice slow and drawling, "but the current percentage stands at 1%. Say 'thank you' to me, and that probability will rise by a whole ten percent."
"You're a self-satisfied fucker, aren't you?"
"On the contrary," said the General, "I'd be a lot more satisfied if I could just hear you say 'thank you'."
"How about 'fuck you' instead?"
The tops of Edward's cheeks were tinged pink now, his golden eyes loud and ferocious beneath furrowed brows. His hair had somewhat slipped out of his ponytail and his glare was so hard to maintain that it was twitching a little: as irritated, as exasperated, as displeased as he was, he could not find the strength within him to be angry. Truth was, it was hard to be angry at the General these days and that vexed him more than anything. He goddamn hated the General, so why the fuck could he not get angry with him any more? Was this what growing older did to him?
If so, he bloody despised it.
"Here's a tip, Edward," the General said, repressing a Very Obvious smirk, "It is not a good idea to tell your host to 'fuck off', and it's an even worse idea to do so whilst crumpling his books into waste-paper."
Edward spared a look at the book in his hand, flushed up to his ears, and very carefully re-shelved it. "Smug fuckin' bastard..."
"I thank you for your kind words and reciprocate with 'ungrateful, shrimp-sized-'"
"Who you callin' small enough to be eaten in one mouthful, Bastard?! I'm as tall as you now, maybe even taller."
"And yet you will still be provoked by a bit of blunt teasing." The General laughed, and Edward scowled. "Your ability to be easily pissed off is a dependable talent."
"Only dependable because you won't fuck off," said Ed.
"It is my job to be as precise as possible in knowing my subordinates, and my unerring ability to do so means I am excellent at pushing whoever's buttons I please."
Edward gave him a flat look, rubbed the back of his neck, then looked away. "Who even speaks like that?" And then: "I am not your fuckin' subordinate any more, bastard!"
"Gentlemen speak like that, Edward, it's called having manners - and having a good grasp on grammar, as well. It is a concept I am certain is lost on you because you have yet to thank me for letting you browse my library."
"You sound like a pretentious fuck."
"I see your 'pretentious fuck' and raise you 'handsome, pretentious fuck'."
"You forgot 'imperious' and 'irksome'." Ed turned his back on the General and began to eyeball the names of the books. He did not flinch when the General stepped closer, almost touching his back. "And 'invasive'."
The General laughed, and it was soft and sweet against the nape of Edward's neck, tip-toeing down Edward's spine as though it were a tight-rope. "Oh, so you do have some sort of brain behind all the f-ing and shouting. I was starting to worry."
"Oh, General," snarked Edward, "I didn't know you cared."
"Well then, apparently I hide how pleased I am very well."
"Give me an hour and I'll give you somethin' to feel real pleased about!"
"An hour?" General Mustang chuckled, his fingers just lightly touching Edward's hips, the small of his back, before pulling away. "How very ambitious."
It was as though he'd been electrocuted. Edward, jumping out of his skin like a startled cat, spun around on his heels to gape at his former CO. "What does that- I didn't fuckin' mean..."
And the General was smirking again. "Mean what? I have no idea what you're talking about. Would you care to explain?"
Edward was red again. This time, however, it was much more violent than the last and it filled his entire face. "Bastard!" he gasped out.
Roy's smirk sharpened, dark eyes glistening like puddles in the night. "And don't you forget it," he said.
It was then as Edward and Roy stared at each other, twitching and preening respectively, that the phone rang from the other room. Roy broke eye-contact to look out into the hall, then left without a word, his heavy footfalls fragmenting the fraught silence that overcame them after every bbrrring-bring! of the telephone. Edward was holding his breath, unknowingly, so as to listen attentively as Roy picked up the phone.
"Mustang," he answered.
Edward wanted to snort.
"Well, is it urgent?" A pause. "Must I sign them now? Can I not do it, say, in a hour, or even tomorrow?" Another pause, and Edward heard Roy shift on his feet - apparently he did not like whatever the other person was saying. "Me? Liking paperwork? Major, do you know who you're talking to?"
Of course she does, Edward wanted to say, you answered the phone by saying your own fuckin' name.
"Yes, I know it's important. All right, I'll be there in five. Ready a pen and tell Havoc to stop slacking - it may be my day off but I can smell the smoke from here. Thank you, Hawkeye. Goodbye."
When Roy returned he had pulled on his coat, covering his slacks and shirt.
"Going somewhere?" asked Edward.
"Not that you didn't hear," Roy said neutrally, "but I have to go into work to sign a few documents. I should only be a little while, so you can stay here whilst I'm out."
Now that, Edward wasn't expecting. Not that he'd admit to it. "Oh, how generous you are." He turned his back on Roy dismissively. "I was gonna stay anyway. Nothin' you coulda said would've got rid of me."
"Has anyone told you how much like a fungus you are?"
Edward fumed, his face colouring and his ribcage rattling as if it were a freaking xylophone. He held his composure quite nicely, all things considered. "Weren't you going somewhere?"
"That's right," said Roy, "I was. Don't burn the house down while I'm gone."
"But I can pilfer all your books?" Edward snorted, glancing back at the man. "You need to choose your words more carefully."
"Says the man who called me a pretentious bastard for speaking correctly, and swears in every other sentence." Roy turned on his heel. "All right, I'll amend my earlier statement: do not do anything we would both regret."
Edward waved a hand, disregarding the General. "Whatever. See you later."
If Roy said anything then, Edward did not hear it, for he was already consumed in memorising every book he could. The collection Roy had was staggering ("Old bastard's been holdin' out on me," Ed had mumbled to himself upon finding a copy of Jenzing's 'Ancient and Able Alchemy') and Ed wasted no time in diving into whatever titles grasped and held his attention, piling them up on the table in the middle of the room. He scoured every shelf as he went, quick like a cat and just a lithe (the amount of stretching and jumping that went into fetching the up-high books was something Ed was both proud and resentful of), until finally he came upon the last of the shelves.
These shelves were extremely different. Indeed, unlike every other shelf, these shelves housed only fiction books. Ed initially went to turn away but thought better of it upon consideration that any mushy and disgusting romance books the General had would be here, on this shelf, and if Edward found them... Well, let's just say that the General was going to regret ever letting Edward into his house.
Grinning maliciously, Edward searched through the books, needing only a few moments to mentally file each book into a genre. This was how he quickly came to realise that there was not one romance book in this collection: they were all horror, mystery or adventure books, none of them frilly or sweet enough to give one a tooth-ache. There was, however, a few books on the very top shelf that caught Ed's eye, for they looked to be a collection, all dark red and black with some hints of pink and brown.
Edward thought he had hit the jackpot. He was staring right in the face of Mustang's humiliation, his guilty-pleasure, he knew it. Books like that had to be filled with some sort of woe-is-me love story that Ed could mock him with for the rest of his life. The only problem was reaching them.
Carefully, Edward chose his target: it was a book that hadn't quite been put away properly, obviously shoved away in a hurry. It was black with a curling, red title printed upon it's spine: 'Claiming and Taming', it was called. Edward snorted upon reading it, but nevertheless reached up on the very tips of his toes and managed to grapple on to it with the ends of his fingers. He wriggled it and pulled, but ultimately failed, falling back onto his heels with a huff.
What to do, he wondered? The book was quite wedged in there...
Of course, that was when Edward thought to get a chair. Happy in the knowledge no-one could see him, he dragged the chair to the bookcase and hoisted himself up onto it (he felt a quiet satisfaction in standing on the General's beloved upholstery) then pulled the book out with a quick, sharp tug. There were so many books crammed on to this shelf that they were practically conjoined, however, so it was impossible to collect one book without another, and then another and another... Before Edward knew what was happening, he was wrestling with several books, trying to put them back, trying to simply collect one -
Around then was when everything went wrong. Not because Edward had began to drop the books (although he had) but because it was then that he saw the cover of the particular book he had been ogling and made a strangled sort of gasp. 'Claiming and Taming' had two naked people on it's front and - Edward's eyes widened, his foot losing it's balance - were they actually having sex?
Making a noise as though he'd be strangled and drowned simultaneously, Edward slipped and toppled from the chair with a thump! Some of the books broke his fall but, then again, some of the books landed on him, so he wasn't certain that he should be grateful.
"Fuck fuck fuck," he grumbled but he did not even try to get up. His head felt sore (he'd banged it on the shelf) and his leg felt a bit weak, so he decided that he was quite happy where he was, thank you very much. And, of course, now he was here on the floor he did not have to move because he had the General's books to read... the ones he obviously did not want anyone to look at...
Edward quite understood why he did not want anyone to see them, now, especially upon seeing their titles: 'Carnal desires', one was called; another was called 'Leather Studies'; and one was even named 'The General'. Edward himself still had the book entitled 'Claiming and Taming' held tightly in his hand and he stared down at it, at the naked people embracing, kissing, on the cover. Then his eyes flickered back to the 'The General' and the indistinct man on the front wearing uniform, and something dipped in his throat.
These were porno books, Edward knew, realised, with some sort of startled clarity. They were erotica, literally just pages and pages of poor plots and sex... although sometimes it was very good sex, Edward had heard...
Something about the thought of Mustang sitting in this library, in one of the high-backed chairs at the table and reading these books made Edward's mouth go dry. The image of him sitting there in his uniform, pristine and put-together, calm, collected, but slowly unravelling as he read about two characters impassioning each other was... Edward could imagine the moment Mustang started to get aroused, could imagine him shifting in the chair, unbuttoning his trousers, slipping his hand inside to palm at his erection...
The books were suddenly not as funny as Edward had thought they would be. They suddenly felt hot, secret, precious. From where he was buried in them, Edward exchanged with a shaking hand 'Claiming and Taming' for 'The General' and, hardly believing himself, peeled it open to some random page in the middle of the book.
His back arched, sweet sweat trickling down his spine as he gasped raggedly into the glove the General had gagged him with, his wrists stinging from the rub of the rope bindings. He could feel the General hovering over him like a storm-cloud, thunderous and magnificent, dark like chocolate and just as rich, just as delicious... He wanted to beg, wanted to tell the General how to do his job, but with the way his heart was fluttering in his throat he understood that the General knew exactly what he was doing.
This torture, this game, was dangerous: what had he gotten himself into? he wondered, only seconds before the General's hand flew down, and he keened as his skin rang with pain. The General's hand came down again and again, and soon he was floating, adrift, each spank harder and better than the last-
Edward suddenly slammed the book shut, his inhale rasped as he tried to compute what he had just read.
"Gay porn," he said to himself, his voice husky, fingers trembling. "Gay porn..."
Oh. Oh. So not... The General- er, no, Mustang wasn't straight, then. He was gay. And he liked... books like this... and... stuff...
Edward couldn't decide what was worse: that he had read that one small extract and felt his body tingle with arousal such as he had never before felt, or that he pictured The General in the book as being- as looking like-
Hesitantly, he reopened the book to a new page, and with some strange guilt absorbed every word like water on his skin.
"General," the man pleaded, "please..."
"Lucid enough to talk?" the General said. "Evidently I am not pushing you hard enough."
And then his fingers were back, stretching, caressing, pushing - except, the man realised in faint horror, that it wasn't his hand. It was too big, too round, too...
He moaned like a wounded animal as the device was pushed into him and the General, looking displeased indeed, switched it on.
"I'll be back in twenty minutes," said the General. "You are forbidden to touch yourself. If you can still talk by then, I will tie you up and whip you, and we'll see how your mouth serves you then."
Oh God, Edward thought. Oh dear fuckin' God.
To just be left there, with that- that thing vibrating inside of you, slowly driving you insane, was Edward's idea of hell. Or, at least he thought it was, until he realised that he was so hard it hurt, and that he had already been absentmindedly rubbing himself off.
Perhaps- perhaps he did like it, Edward thought, as he hesitantly poked at his feelings. The idea of Mustang tying him up and leaving him to fuck himself on a vibrator was-
"Fuck," Edward hissed, when a shot of heat broke his spine. "Oh, fuck..."
Yes, well, apparently he very much liked that idea. How about... How about if he imagined Mustang, wearing those goddamn gloves of his, pressing Edward against the wall and just touching him, teasing him, avoiding all of the places that Edward actually wanted him to touch? How about if Mustang then gripped Ed's hair in a fist and yanked, forcing Edward to his knees, to bend over and bare himself to him? How about it he hit Edward with a cane, if he told Edward how good he was, what a slut he was, but that Mustang knew it was all for him?
Edward didn't know when it started. Didn't know what he had pulled his dick out of his pants and bucked his hips, rubbed his thumb over the slit, pumped his hand up and down... But he was doing it, he was masturbating right here, right now in Mustang's library - "my little slut," he imagined Mustang saying, and moaned aloud, head tipping back - and he wasn't even ashamed. He knew Mustang was bound to be back any minute but somehow the thought just invigorated him, just turned him on that much more, and he clenched his eyes shut as he drove his thumb up his sensitive shaft and squeezed.
He imagined it was Mustang doing this to him, imagined that it was Mustang making him whimper and beg and bend over and oh god-
"Fuck!" Edward cried, and then without warning he was coming in three hard spurts, all over the books, all over himself, and he barely even realised that he had called out The General's name.
It took him a long while to come back down from his high, a couple of minutes at least. By the time he was finally lucid and starting to feel a bit 'oh fuck what did I just do I need to clean up and fuck I just masturbated over the bastard holy fucking shit', he realised that he could hear footsteps walking towards him, realised that he was not alone, and his eyes flung open in undisguised horror.
It was the bastard. Roy. The General. Mustang. He was staring at Edward with his dark, all-consuming eyes, his shoulders back, his spine straight, and despite himself Edward could not help but stare.
"Do you have," began Mustang slowly, in a low, commanding voice, "any idea what you look like right now?"
Oh, Ed did. He was fully aware, in fact, of how he looked: he was completely dressed, his ponytail in disarray, his legs splayed out across the floor with his trousers undone and his cock hanging out of his pants. Not only that but he was sitting on Mustang's books, he was buried in them, and every single one of them was erotica. That was, Edward thought with some sort of horrified glee, forgetting to mention that Ed's cum was covering not only himself and his clothes, but the books he was swamped in.
And he was sure that his face still held some of it's post-orgasmic bliss.
"I-I-" Edward licked his lips and swallowed, hard. "Oh, fuck," he said.
"You look like a whore," Mustang said, as though Edward had not even spoken, "You look like a desperate whore who could not contain himself and touched himself over a few sexual books, and then came shouting his Commanding Officer's name. Isn't that what you look like?"
Edward's tongue twisted against his teeth, unable to answer.
"Silent for once?" Mustang chuckled. "Refreshing. I didn't ever think I'd see you close that pretty mouth of yours."
"I-what?" Edward asked, and then flushed red all the way up to his ears and said, "F-Fuck you, Bastard, you smug fuckin'..."
And yet Mustang simply laughed again. "You just masturbated in my home, over my books - holding my favourite one, in fact-"
Edward dropped 'The General' as though it had stung him.
"-And you tell me to fuck off? Do you think you have the right to speak to me like that, currently?"
Edward was appalled to realise that he was getting aroused by this, even more so to realise that his dick was still out in the open air and that he hadn't even bothered trying to clean himself up. "I - no, I'm sorry, look- fuck-"
The General clicked his tongue, turning his back on Edward. "Your language is awful."
"You- Look, you bastard, I didn't fucking mean to do this, it just happened, and it's your fault for leaving me in a fuckin' library with erotica anyway, and where do you get off being so high and fuckin' mighty? Bet you've came over these books in this library more times than you can goddamn count-"
The defensive anger, the words, suddenly vanished from the tip of Edward's tongue like shrinking violets as Mustang unfastened his coat and threw it over the back of a chair. It was initially the sight of the man's strong legs, lean shoulders and waist, that led to Ed's silence - but then when the man pushed up his sleeves to reveal his forearms Edward was truly gone. Or so he thought.
"I notice that you haven't even tried to get up or apologise," the General's smirk was sharp as he turned around, and Edward saw that the man was thoroughly aroused, "so I'm giving you a choice. You can either get up now and leave and I'll forget that you masturbated in my home if you forget that I watched you come, or you can stand up now, put your hands against the wall, and we can see where this goes."
Edward gulped. His eyes, trained on Mustang's clothed erection, turned up to look him in the face. His legs were weak from the fall, weak from surprise, weak from his orgasm, but somehow they managed to push Edward to his feet and walk him, slowly, to the nearest bare wall, where he spread his legs, bowed his head, and placed both palms flat against the wallpaper.
Behind him, the General stifled a moan. "Very good," he said huskily, and his voice made Edward's legs quiver.
His intense reaction to Mustang scared him a bit, he had to admit, and he found himself squeezing out a vehement: "Look, bastard, just 'cause I'm doing this doesn't mean you get to fuckin' order me around or-"
"Be quiet," said the General.
"Fuck you," said Ed.
Edward somehow knew what was coming before it did: the General made a few quick steps towards Ed before spanking him hard on the buttocks. Edward gasped, eyes widening, and Mustang took the opportunity to shove his glove into Edward's mouth (his move reminiscent of the General in the book).
It was for that exact reason that Edward had a stronger reaction than he perhaps should have had: his body undulated like a wave, his head hit the wall and he moaned loudly.
"Oh," The General sounded pleased, "so you've read that particular part of the book, have you? I wonder what other parts you've read..."
Wanting to deny that he'd read more than - more than a little bit, Edward tried to speak but his words were muffled. It felt like a dismissal, having himself gagged like that, not the offensive kind of dismissal but the kind where the person knows that what you're going to say is complete bullshit because they know you, and so they don't even bother listening, and for some reason it made Edward dizzy with arousal. Perhaps it was the pure trust that was involved, the intimacy...
"Perhaps you're read this part..."
Oh fuck, thought Ed, oh fuck, he's picked up the book, holy shit no-
But Ed felt somehow trapped against the wall as he was: even though he was free to move, even though he was not tied up, he felt stuck, as if the General's command alone was a chain. He was entirely useless, standing there with his legs spread, his mouth stuffed with The General's glove, the saliva that wasn't absorbed collecting at the corner of his lips.
And then the General stopped rifling through the book, cleared his throat, and began to read:
The man gasped raggedly, uncertain of what had overcome him but revelling in it, wanting it. He bit down on his lip and let his eyes fall shut as he pushed himself into the General's touch, whose fingers were pinching hard at his nipple, his other hand pumping at his erection. He could come, he thought, just from this, just like this, just having the General's hands on him was enough...
And the General knew it, too. "Desperate to orgasm, aren't you?" he murmured, and his smile was a ghost's touch against the man's neck before he bent down and bit at the junction of his shoulder and-
"No," said the man, almost sobbing, as the General clamped his hand around the base of his erection and cut off his orgasm. "No, no, no, no, no... Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"
The General chuckled. "You are a brat," he said. "I will teach you how to ask nicely for the things that you want, Brat."
Roy was touching him lightly, his hand up Edward's shirt as he stroked his knuckle down Ed's spine. It was strangely intimate, strangely frustrating, strangely hot.
"You hadn't read that bit, had you?" he said in a low voice, smirking when Edward shivered. He cast the book to one side. "I didn't think you had. Do you want to know why I bought that book?"
He removed his hand and jerked Edward's hair free of its binding, then wove his fingers through it, tugging until Edward's neck was bared to him.
Edward couldn't talk so he settled on levelling the General with his best glare. He was going to fuckin' find out anyway, wasn't he?
The General laughed. "Hmm... Well, you see," he kissed Edward's throat and for a moment Edward became so liquefied that his hands left the wall, so close was he to collapsing. The General supported him by the hair and shoved him back into position. "You see," he began again, "I found it sitting innocuously in the back of a bookshop in East City, and naturally the titled intrigued me. I read a few lines and I was reminded, startlingly at times, of you." Another kiss, and Edward's breathing came faster, harder. "The main character is strong willed, defiant, and fights at first against the General because he doesn't understand why he likes to submit so much... He doesn't understand why he likes it when the General makes him submit."
Edward swallowed. Ah, yes, he vaguely thought, I can understand why he'd wonder that...
"But he soon realises that he loves to be desired in that way, that he loves to know that someone wants him so badly that they want to control him like that, when he knows in actuality that it is him with all the control." His tongue laps out, licks a line up to Edward's earlobe where his teeth graze Edward's skin, and Edward's back arches. "He knows that The General would not use him, that actually The General is smitten with him and doesn't expect him to be completely submissive in everyday life, only in bed. And he likes it."
Edward was whimpering, panting between mewls so loudly that it's heard even above the General's voice.
"He is like you, although you are better in many ways." A tug on Edward's hair, a thrust of the General's hips, and Edward was pulled taut against Mustang's body, both of them completely touching. "You are smarter, you are funnier, you are sexier, you are braver, and most importantly: you would look better tied up in ropes."
Oh, God, Edward thought, Oh fuck fuck fuck...
"Only if you would consent to it, of course." The General smirked. "For now, though, I think I'll content myself with a good old-fashioned orgasm - what do you say?"
And of course Edward couldn't talk but he nodded emphatically, writhing against the General until he was flipped around and pressed hotly up against the wall, the General's voice heavy in his ear, vibrating against his chest.
"I think you'll find submitting to be very rewarding," he said, undoing his belt and trousers and pulling out his cock, "I think you'll find that you love to submit to someone, to be possessed, not only because you'll feel powerful and desired but because acting that way, acting like a whore, will turn you on, won't it? Even if you know that it's only me that you'll ever submit to..."
A shift in position, a firm grasp around Edward's neck to keep him pinned to the wall, and Edward's eyes rolled into the back of his head as Mustang thrust forward, their dicks rubbing up against one another. Ed's own hips snapped forward desperately, even though the hand around his neck tightened as he did so, and with what oxygen he was given he moaned.
"If you want me to stop," the General said, panting as he slid their cocks back and forth against each other, "just pull the glove out of your mouth, okay?"
But Edward did not want to stop. He was trying to buck forward - even when the pressure on his neck grew so much that he saw stars - and was gyrating against Roy's touch, wanting to shut his eyes but unable to because the General was looking right at him, through him, as though he was the centre of the universe and fuck, it was embarrassing, fuck, it was arousing, and Edward squirmed against the wall as the General gave a particularly harsh thrust and then-
Gasping, almost choking, Edward came, eyes shutting, knees breaking beneath him, held up only by the General's body and the General's grip but then he was coming, too, groaning as he leant forward and kissed along Ed's jaw and shit fuck shit it was good, collapsing together on a heap in the floor, both desperate for air, both trying to calm themselves down as sweat beaded their brows and stuck their clothes to their bodies.
"Here," Roy said after a while, helping Ed to remove the glove, "I'll do it."
He did. Once it was out Edward rocked his jaw around, bit down, and breathed more calmly.
"Bastard," he said in his hoarse voice, and Roy laughed.
"You're beautiful," he said.
Edward's face burned red. You're a kinky, fucked-up fuckin' arsehole, he wanted to say, but he couldn't, because apparently he was also a 'kinky, fucked-up fucking arsehole'.
So, Edward settled with a repeat of,"Bastard," but he made sure to say it with more passion this time.
Funnily enough, it made Roy smile. "So you say," he agreed, and then he had taken Edward's face in hand, fingers folded firmly under his jaw, as he gazed into golden eyes. "I may have taken on a certain persona for a while there, but I meant what I said. You are a genius, Edward: a charming, hilarious, slightly mad and infuriating genius, and I would love to take you out to dinner. And perhaps," he added silkily, "tie you up in ropes afterwards. But only if you wanted."
"Fuckin' perverted sap," Edward muttered.
Roy smirked. "Yes, well, I have been in love with you for about a year now. I think I deserve to be a sap once in a while."
And Edward, like a fool, gaped at the man.
"Too much all at once?" asked Roy. "I suppose I have come on a bit strong..."
But then Edward was laughing, laughing for all he was worth, until he calmed down enough to share his first kiss with the man he- well, perhaps not loved, he wasn't a goddamn idiot, but he certainly liked him, that was for sure.
"Well, I don't think I did anything the both of us regretted while you were gone," he said.
"You certainly didn't," Roy agreed. "Dinner?"
"Only if you're paying."
And Roy kissed him again, lovingly, with both hands cupping his neck. "Oh Edward," he said with a small chuckle, and Edward despite himself felt his heart fly high, "Don't you ever change."