Fic: In the Doghouse
Title: In the Doghouse
Authors:bob_fish and sky_dark
Characters: Roy/Ed
Rating: NC-17 for bickering sexytimes
Word count: 2501
Setting: pretty darn vague owing to the way this got written. It's post-series/post-manga, and they're shacked up?
Summary: After an unnamed domestic transgression, Roy tries to weasel his way back into Ed's good books.
Notes: Inspired by this worksafe fanart by the Japanese doujinka Cucumis, we engaged in comment thread RP. Sky was Roy, Bob was Ed.
So, the bastard was home from work. And hey, look, he'd brought flowers.
Edward Elric looked at the man standing in the living room doorway. He looked him up and down, with narrowed eyes, so it would be very, very clear he was still pissed off about yesterday.
Ed looked down again, as if to imply that he had no interest at all. Then that didn't seem quite dramatic enough, so he snapped his book shut, as violently as possible. Here you are, interloper, interrupting my research with your apologetic looks and flowers and probable attempts to charm your way out of it. Ed marshalled his manly self-discipline, and looked up.
General Roy Mustang was giving him the puppy eyes now. No words, just the big almond eyes, the dropped chin, the vulnerable look. He wasn't really blushing, he'd probably pinched his cheeks on the way in, just to look more appealing. Dick.
"I'm still mad at you," said Ed. "You don't get out of it that easily." Roy slowly edged forward into the room. Technically, it couldn't be easy to convincingly imitate an adorable, recently kicked puppy when you were wearing a general's uniform. Ed wasn't quite sure how he pulled it off.
Ed looked pointedly back at his book, then remembered he'd shut it a minute ago. So he stood up and turned to look out of the window.
"You're looking irresistible today," said Roy from somewhere close behind him. Then there was warm breath in Ed's ear, and he could smell the bastard's cologne. "You won't really stay mad at me for such a small infraction, will you?" Roy pressed a little kiss to his temple.
"You're pushing your luck." Ed gave him a sidelong glance. He looked crestfallen, and Ed felt kind of guilty now, and - wait, he was not going to fall for the mojo this time out. Roy was just going to have to cope with being in the doghouse.
"I made a reservation at your favorite restaurant." Roy crooned softly in his ear.
"You made a reservation at Poochy's Chili Dogs?" Ed pulled his head out of Roy's way and frowned. "Can you even do tha- oh." Tsk, typical. "You mean the fancy Aerugan steakhouse, don't you?"
"I do." Roy was continuing to give him the stare, continuing to inch his fingers over Ed's upper arm. It was all so transparent. "Are you still mad at me?"
"Yes." Ed scowled at him. Of course now he had to weigh his current position, safely sulking on the moral high ground, against trading a little of his dignity for an enormous slab of nearly raw meat smothered in pepper sauce. With fries. Of course, he could always just march out on his own and secure his own steak. Alone! But it was freaking freezing out, and it was a half hour walk to the steakhouse, and Roy, bastard that he was, had a car.
The scales tipped.
"I guess I've got to eat somewhere," Ed conceded. "By the way, if I go, it doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you. Because I am. Mad at you. When are we going? Now?" He was totally going to order the porterhouse.
"But maybe," said Roy, edging unsubtly into his body space, "you're not so mad at me now? I'm sure it's something we can work through during your meat coma."
Ed gave him another narrow-eyed stare. He was sounding just a bit too confident he was on his way back into Ed's good graces. "I'm starving."
"So am I, but I guess I will wait until after you've had your fill." Roy picked up his ponytail with one hand, and pressed the end to his lips. Why did he always have such a thing for the hair? Ed half-turned to look at him. Roy's cheeks really were pink. Maybe it had been the cold? Ed caught himself leaning in. Crap. Well, leaning out again would be less subtle than just staying there and pretending he hadn't done it. So he stayed there.
"You know your problem?" Ed asked, not really expecting a response. "You think you can charm your way out of anything. It's actually pretty manipulative, I don't think it says much about your moral fibre. You need to learn to take it like a man when you screw up."
"Ah, moral fibre?" Roy muttered distractedly into Ed's hair. "Hmm. Not a concept I think about much. Actually, I think the real lesson you should take away from all my excellent examples is just how you can avoid problems if only you learn a little diplomacy." Roy pushed his nose into the back of Ed's neck. "Are you wearing cologne?"
Ed snorted. "Uh, no, I used some of your fancy soap again."
"My soap smells wonderful on you." Roy was kissing the back of his neck now, which was always good, so Ed tilted his head so that Roy could reach more neck. Whoa, Ed really was starving. What he really liked about that steakhouse was that when you said you wanted your meat rare, as in just lead it in and hit it on the head, they really gave it to you rare. No wimping out. The Aerugans really knew how to treat a steak, you had to give them that.
"When d'you book the table, anyway?"
"You're so impatient, we've a little time. You know, I really enjoy watching you enjoy a meal." Roy's hands snuck around Ed's waist. Ed felt his breathing deepen, and and the remnants of his moral fibre begin their inevitable crumbling.
"What d'you mean "watching me enjoy"?" Ed wriggled closer against Roy's irritating, delicious warmth at his back. "You love steak too, it's not like this is a big sacrifice for you or anything ... "
"You have no idea how much torture waiting for you can be," Roy muttered, dragging his lips over the back of Ed's neck. "Trust me, I'm sacrificing big here." He moulded himself to Ed's back, and Ed felt Roy's growing interest in this issue starting to press at his butt. "I don't suppose," Roy said in a voice of silk, "that you'd take a raincheck on the steak?" Silence. Roy sighed. "That's just wishful thinking on my part, isn't it?"
Ed snorted. "Completely." He ground his butt back a little into Roy's crotch. "I'm definitely going to need that steak. He tipped his head back onto Roy's shoulder and looked at him sideways. "You can't advertise it and not deliver. It's, like, a violation of trust." He nuzzled the stubble at Roy's jawline. Okay, but maybe it was kind of mean to tease him like this, but Roy kind of deserved it, and damn if it wasn't fun, and - well, yeah, kind of hot too.
"Sadly, I suppose you are correct," said Roy, "And you're right, you'll need your strength for later... "Roy nudged Ed's head forward again, bit down lightly on the back of his neck, and arched forward. Ed twitched a little, ground back, and began to reshuffle his evening plans. He grabbed one of Roy's hand by the wrist, and repositioned the fingers over his nipple. Maybe a quick pre-steak detour? Yeah.
Roy got the message as quickly as Ed would expect of him. His thumb rubbed slowly back and forth over Ed's nipple, as the other hand headed due south to palm him lightly. Ed pushed back against Roy's hips. They both groaned at the same time.
Several minutes later, buttons had been undone, clothes had been shed, and Ed had been deposited on the couch with Roy kneeling between his legs in pretty much the appropriate posture for a man hoping to butter up an aggrieved spouse.
Ed grunted, and dropped his left hand to rest on top of Roy's head. Now, while it could not be denied that Roy in general gave a great blow-job, he didn't normally get this intense so fast. It was awesome how he was making a special effort and everything, considering his transgression. If this was the warm-up, then the second, post-steakhouse round was going to rock. Ed shuddered happily, and attempted to run a list of the kinds of sexual favours that an apologetic Roy might offer. There was Roy letting Ed tie him up and do him, but frankly, as far as Ed was concerned, that was a favour that worked out far too nicely for Roy. No, he was going to have to do some work here. Ed groaned as Roy's tongue pressed him to the roof of his mouth. Well, this was a nice start. After the steak, though, Ed was feeling inclined towards something really serious - hey, wait now.
It now occurred to him that his chances of getting energetic sex out of Roy after Roy had consumed steak, fries and half a bottle of wine were minimal at best. No, of course, he would want to pass out on the bed while Ed poked him in the arm and attempted to remind him about his fruitless promises of round two.
Sacrifices had to be made. Ed scrunched a hand into Roy's hair, and muttered, "Get on me. Now."
Roy popped off him and kissed rapidly up the line of his hip, nodding. He tugged Ed's hair back to kiss his neck, and Ed felt his control of himself, and therefore of the situation, heading west. What was it about post-argument sex that made it so fucking hot? It didn't really make sense, but Ed's ability to make sense of anything was never quite a hundred per cent at these times. It was best to just kind of go with it.
"Hang on a minute," said Roy. "Don't go anywhere." He stumbled off in the direction of the kitchen, and returned a few moments later with the olive oil from the counter, getting there and back surprisingly rapidly for a man in his excited condition. Ed liked that, like it was so fucking urgent that he couldn't even make the stairs to get actual proper lubricant from the nightstand.
Roy knelt on the sofa, tipped a goodly amount of oil into his palm, and stroked it over his cock quickly with both hands. A good few drops hit the sofa, but Roy didn't seem to notice. Ed decided not to mention it either because he was enjoying all this urgency, and because Roy was totally wrong about whether vibrating oil molecules out of fabric made it smell weird forever. One of Roy's hands pressed Ed's cock against the flat of his belly, the other lifted one of his legs up and dipped down to stroke around his entrance.
Their eyes met as Roy slipped in the first finger. No matter what the occasion, Roy always got a little sappy at this moment. Ed gave him a little grin, and Roy smiled back. For a moment, the evening's bickering and domestic negotiations didn't matter. They were here and together, and they knew it.
Roy was teasing him a little now, thrusting two fingers in and out and curling them inside Ed annoyingly slowly. So Ed teased him right back, sitting forward and nipping at what he could reach of the skin of Roy's chest. He was so pale that the pink marks stood right out for a moment.
Ed leaned back, and slung his right leg up onto Roy's shoulder.
Roy tutted.
"What?" said Ed.
"It's just, next it's going to be the automail leg, and then you'll want to keep them there, and much as I love folding you double like an envelope, you dig your heels in when you pull up."
"So? It's sex. It's energetic fucking of the sort you should be totally pleased to be having this far on in a boring, domesticated long-term relationship."
"Last time you nearly broke my collarbone with the automail! I had a bruise!"
"Well, it's not like you cared at the time! I didn't see you complaining when you were drilling into me -"
"Can you not use words like drilling, it's completely unromantic -"
Ed grabbed Roy's shoulders, threw himself forward, and growled right into his face.
They looked into each others' eyes for a moment, both breathing hard and silent. Roy was giving Ed that black-eyed stare that could still make him shiver after years, and Ed was staring back and grinning his head off.
Then without a word, Roy forcefully bowled him straight onto his back onto the sofa cushions, and Ed felt him lining up. Then he breathed deeply through the stretch as Roy entered him.
After the first few moments of breathing and long slow strokes, Roy's pace began to accelerate somewhat, and after a few moments more to head towards what Ed would call - why the hell not, anyway? - drilling. Roy groaned and arched backwards.
"Fuck, yeah," muttered Ed. Then he slung the other leg up.
Roy frowned for a moment, and then gave a martyred sigh, or possibly just a gasp, and carried on.
***
"That was awesome, " said Ed, stroking Roy's forehead.
"Mm," said Roy, nuzzling Ed's chest.
"What is it about rows always making the sex good?" asked Ed, running a hand through Roy's sweaty mop of dark hair.
"Nn," said Roy.
"I mean, whatever it is, I guess given our history, we should be grateful for it, right?"
"Mmph," said Roy.
"I'm starving. Right. Let's get dressed and hit the steakhouse!"
Silence.
Ed lifted up Roy's bangs. His eyes were closed, he was breathing deeply and evenly, there was a blissful little smile on his face. It was a very good impression of a man sound asleep.
Ed poked him in the ear.
Roy tutted.
"Hey, Mustang, remember that bad thing you did?" Ed went in for another ear poke. "You're compounding it."
"Please, Ed," Roy muttered. "I'm exhausted. Could you maybe grab a sandwich and we could just go to bed?"
"It's eight o'clock on a Friday night!"
"It's been a long week," Roy was fully awake now, awake and grouchy. "I know you don't appreciate everything I do; you've made it abundantly clear in the past."
"A week in which you did a bad thing! C'mon. You promised like half an hour ago. This is not a good time for you to be an ass, Mustang."
Roy groaned and sat up. "But" - he shook his head despairingly, and Ed could see him preparing his last-ditch attempt to get out of this. "We had make-up sex? Excellent make-up sex. And I'm going to have a bruise on my shoulder to show for it; see? Sacrifice. You can't milk this one transgression forever, Ed. When will it end?" He turned big, sad almond eyes on Ed.
"It ends with steak." Ed folded his arms.
"I see you won't let this one go," Roy groaned and pushed himself up to sitting. "At least you're a relatively cheap date. To think, I could be soothing this with diamonds. I suppose I should count myself lucky."
Authors:bob_fish and sky_dark
Characters: Roy/Ed
Rating: NC-17 for bickering sexytimes
Word count: 2501
Setting: pretty darn vague owing to the way this got written. It's post-series/post-manga, and they're shacked up?
Summary: After an unnamed domestic transgression, Roy tries to weasel his way back into Ed's good books.
Notes: Inspired by this worksafe fanart by the Japanese doujinka Cucumis, we engaged in comment thread RP. Sky was Roy, Bob was Ed.
So, the bastard was home from work. And hey, look, he'd brought flowers.
Edward Elric looked at the man standing in the living room doorway. He looked him up and down, with narrowed eyes, so it would be very, very clear he was still pissed off about yesterday.
Ed looked down again, as if to imply that he had no interest at all. Then that didn't seem quite dramatic enough, so he snapped his book shut, as violently as possible. Here you are, interloper, interrupting my research with your apologetic looks and flowers and probable attempts to charm your way out of it. Ed marshalled his manly self-discipline, and looked up.
General Roy Mustang was giving him the puppy eyes now. No words, just the big almond eyes, the dropped chin, the vulnerable look. He wasn't really blushing, he'd probably pinched his cheeks on the way in, just to look more appealing. Dick.
"I'm still mad at you," said Ed. "You don't get out of it that easily." Roy slowly edged forward into the room. Technically, it couldn't be easy to convincingly imitate an adorable, recently kicked puppy when you were wearing a general's uniform. Ed wasn't quite sure how he pulled it off.
Ed looked pointedly back at his book, then remembered he'd shut it a minute ago. So he stood up and turned to look out of the window.
"You're looking irresistible today," said Roy from somewhere close behind him. Then there was warm breath in Ed's ear, and he could smell the bastard's cologne. "You won't really stay mad at me for such a small infraction, will you?" Roy pressed a little kiss to his temple.
"You're pushing your luck." Ed gave him a sidelong glance. He looked crestfallen, and Ed felt kind of guilty now, and - wait, he was not going to fall for the mojo this time out. Roy was just going to have to cope with being in the doghouse.
"I made a reservation at your favorite restaurant." Roy crooned softly in his ear.
"You made a reservation at Poochy's Chili Dogs?" Ed pulled his head out of Roy's way and frowned. "Can you even do tha- oh." Tsk, typical. "You mean the fancy Aerugan steakhouse, don't you?"
"I do." Roy was continuing to give him the stare, continuing to inch his fingers over Ed's upper arm. It was all so transparent. "Are you still mad at me?"
"Yes." Ed scowled at him. Of course now he had to weigh his current position, safely sulking on the moral high ground, against trading a little of his dignity for an enormous slab of nearly raw meat smothered in pepper sauce. With fries. Of course, he could always just march out on his own and secure his own steak. Alone! But it was freaking freezing out, and it was a half hour walk to the steakhouse, and Roy, bastard that he was, had a car.
The scales tipped.
"I guess I've got to eat somewhere," Ed conceded. "By the way, if I go, it doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you. Because I am. Mad at you. When are we going? Now?" He was totally going to order the porterhouse.
"But maybe," said Roy, edging unsubtly into his body space, "you're not so mad at me now? I'm sure it's something we can work through during your meat coma."
Ed gave him another narrow-eyed stare. He was sounding just a bit too confident he was on his way back into Ed's good graces. "I'm starving."
"So am I, but I guess I will wait until after you've had your fill." Roy picked up his ponytail with one hand, and pressed the end to his lips. Why did he always have such a thing for the hair? Ed half-turned to look at him. Roy's cheeks really were pink. Maybe it had been the cold? Ed caught himself leaning in. Crap. Well, leaning out again would be less subtle than just staying there and pretending he hadn't done it. So he stayed there.
"You know your problem?" Ed asked, not really expecting a response. "You think you can charm your way out of anything. It's actually pretty manipulative, I don't think it says much about your moral fibre. You need to learn to take it like a man when you screw up."
"Ah, moral fibre?" Roy muttered distractedly into Ed's hair. "Hmm. Not a concept I think about much. Actually, I think the real lesson you should take away from all my excellent examples is just how you can avoid problems if only you learn a little diplomacy." Roy pushed his nose into the back of Ed's neck. "Are you wearing cologne?"
Ed snorted. "Uh, no, I used some of your fancy soap again."
"My soap smells wonderful on you." Roy was kissing the back of his neck now, which was always good, so Ed tilted his head so that Roy could reach more neck. Whoa, Ed really was starving. What he really liked about that steakhouse was that when you said you wanted your meat rare, as in just lead it in and hit it on the head, they really gave it to you rare. No wimping out. The Aerugans really knew how to treat a steak, you had to give them that.
"When d'you book the table, anyway?"
"You're so impatient, we've a little time. You know, I really enjoy watching you enjoy a meal." Roy's hands snuck around Ed's waist. Ed felt his breathing deepen, and and the remnants of his moral fibre begin their inevitable crumbling.
"What d'you mean "watching me enjoy"?" Ed wriggled closer against Roy's irritating, delicious warmth at his back. "You love steak too, it's not like this is a big sacrifice for you or anything ... "
"You have no idea how much torture waiting for you can be," Roy muttered, dragging his lips over the back of Ed's neck. "Trust me, I'm sacrificing big here." He moulded himself to Ed's back, and Ed felt Roy's growing interest in this issue starting to press at his butt. "I don't suppose," Roy said in a voice of silk, "that you'd take a raincheck on the steak?" Silence. Roy sighed. "That's just wishful thinking on my part, isn't it?"
Ed snorted. "Completely." He ground his butt back a little into Roy's crotch. "I'm definitely going to need that steak. He tipped his head back onto Roy's shoulder and looked at him sideways. "You can't advertise it and not deliver. It's, like, a violation of trust." He nuzzled the stubble at Roy's jawline. Okay, but maybe it was kind of mean to tease him like this, but Roy kind of deserved it, and damn if it wasn't fun, and - well, yeah, kind of hot too.
"Sadly, I suppose you are correct," said Roy, "And you're right, you'll need your strength for later... "Roy nudged Ed's head forward again, bit down lightly on the back of his neck, and arched forward. Ed twitched a little, ground back, and began to reshuffle his evening plans. He grabbed one of Roy's hand by the wrist, and repositioned the fingers over his nipple. Maybe a quick pre-steak detour? Yeah.
Roy got the message as quickly as Ed would expect of him. His thumb rubbed slowly back and forth over Ed's nipple, as the other hand headed due south to palm him lightly. Ed pushed back against Roy's hips. They both groaned at the same time.
Several minutes later, buttons had been undone, clothes had been shed, and Ed had been deposited on the couch with Roy kneeling between his legs in pretty much the appropriate posture for a man hoping to butter up an aggrieved spouse.
Ed grunted, and dropped his left hand to rest on top of Roy's head. Now, while it could not be denied that Roy in general gave a great blow-job, he didn't normally get this intense so fast. It was awesome how he was making a special effort and everything, considering his transgression. If this was the warm-up, then the second, post-steakhouse round was going to rock. Ed shuddered happily, and attempted to run a list of the kinds of sexual favours that an apologetic Roy might offer. There was Roy letting Ed tie him up and do him, but frankly, as far as Ed was concerned, that was a favour that worked out far too nicely for Roy. No, he was going to have to do some work here. Ed groaned as Roy's tongue pressed him to the roof of his mouth. Well, this was a nice start. After the steak, though, Ed was feeling inclined towards something really serious - hey, wait now.
It now occurred to him that his chances of getting energetic sex out of Roy after Roy had consumed steak, fries and half a bottle of wine were minimal at best. No, of course, he would want to pass out on the bed while Ed poked him in the arm and attempted to remind him about his fruitless promises of round two.
Sacrifices had to be made. Ed scrunched a hand into Roy's hair, and muttered, "Get on me. Now."
Roy popped off him and kissed rapidly up the line of his hip, nodding. He tugged Ed's hair back to kiss his neck, and Ed felt his control of himself, and therefore of the situation, heading west. What was it about post-argument sex that made it so fucking hot? It didn't really make sense, but Ed's ability to make sense of anything was never quite a hundred per cent at these times. It was best to just kind of go with it.
"Hang on a minute," said Roy. "Don't go anywhere." He stumbled off in the direction of the kitchen, and returned a few moments later with the olive oil from the counter, getting there and back surprisingly rapidly for a man in his excited condition. Ed liked that, like it was so fucking urgent that he couldn't even make the stairs to get actual proper lubricant from the nightstand.
Roy knelt on the sofa, tipped a goodly amount of oil into his palm, and stroked it over his cock quickly with both hands. A good few drops hit the sofa, but Roy didn't seem to notice. Ed decided not to mention it either because he was enjoying all this urgency, and because Roy was totally wrong about whether vibrating oil molecules out of fabric made it smell weird forever. One of Roy's hands pressed Ed's cock against the flat of his belly, the other lifted one of his legs up and dipped down to stroke around his entrance.
Their eyes met as Roy slipped in the first finger. No matter what the occasion, Roy always got a little sappy at this moment. Ed gave him a little grin, and Roy smiled back. For a moment, the evening's bickering and domestic negotiations didn't matter. They were here and together, and they knew it.
Roy was teasing him a little now, thrusting two fingers in and out and curling them inside Ed annoyingly slowly. So Ed teased him right back, sitting forward and nipping at what he could reach of the skin of Roy's chest. He was so pale that the pink marks stood right out for a moment.
Ed leaned back, and slung his right leg up onto Roy's shoulder.
Roy tutted.
"What?" said Ed.
"It's just, next it's going to be the automail leg, and then you'll want to keep them there, and much as I love folding you double like an envelope, you dig your heels in when you pull up."
"So? It's sex. It's energetic fucking of the sort you should be totally pleased to be having this far on in a boring, domesticated long-term relationship."
"Last time you nearly broke my collarbone with the automail! I had a bruise!"
"Well, it's not like you cared at the time! I didn't see you complaining when you were drilling into me -"
"Can you not use words like drilling, it's completely unromantic -"
Ed grabbed Roy's shoulders, threw himself forward, and growled right into his face.
They looked into each others' eyes for a moment, both breathing hard and silent. Roy was giving Ed that black-eyed stare that could still make him shiver after years, and Ed was staring back and grinning his head off.
Then without a word, Roy forcefully bowled him straight onto his back onto the sofa cushions, and Ed felt him lining up. Then he breathed deeply through the stretch as Roy entered him.
After the first few moments of breathing and long slow strokes, Roy's pace began to accelerate somewhat, and after a few moments more to head towards what Ed would call - why the hell not, anyway? - drilling. Roy groaned and arched backwards.
"Fuck, yeah," muttered Ed. Then he slung the other leg up.
Roy frowned for a moment, and then gave a martyred sigh, or possibly just a gasp, and carried on.
***
"That was awesome, " said Ed, stroking Roy's forehead.
"Mm," said Roy, nuzzling Ed's chest.
"What is it about rows always making the sex good?" asked Ed, running a hand through Roy's sweaty mop of dark hair.
"Nn," said Roy.
"I mean, whatever it is, I guess given our history, we should be grateful for it, right?"
"Mmph," said Roy.
"I'm starving. Right. Let's get dressed and hit the steakhouse!"
Silence.
Ed lifted up Roy's bangs. His eyes were closed, he was breathing deeply and evenly, there was a blissful little smile on his face. It was a very good impression of a man sound asleep.
Ed poked him in the ear.
Roy tutted.
"Hey, Mustang, remember that bad thing you did?" Ed went in for another ear poke. "You're compounding it."
"Please, Ed," Roy muttered. "I'm exhausted. Could you maybe grab a sandwich and we could just go to bed?"
"It's eight o'clock on a Friday night!"
"It's been a long week," Roy was fully awake now, awake and grouchy. "I know you don't appreciate everything I do; you've made it abundantly clear in the past."
"A week in which you did a bad thing! C'mon. You promised like half an hour ago. This is not a good time for you to be an ass, Mustang."
Roy groaned and sat up. "But" - he shook his head despairingly, and Ed could see him preparing his last-ditch attempt to get out of this. "We had make-up sex? Excellent make-up sex. And I'm going to have a bruise on my shoulder to show for it; see? Sacrifice. You can't milk this one transgression forever, Ed. When will it end?" He turned big, sad almond eyes on Ed.
"It ends with steak." Ed folded his arms.
"I see you won't let this one go," Roy groaned and pushed himself up to sitting. "At least you're a relatively cheap date. To think, I could be soothing this with diamonds. I suppose I should count myself lucky."