"Twice Wanting" - Hawkeye x RoyEd SMUT for Soku
And when I say smut, I mean smut. This is without a doubt the most porn-tastic thing I've ever written - it's not just OOC PWP, it's quite without redeeming value ^^ In fact, I think it might even fail the search-and-replace test (you know, the test you can do where you replace all the names with "Tom", "Dick", and "Harriet" and see if that makes it 100% original fic - which is to say, it's just that badly connected to canon :D) Don't say I didn't warn you.
But if you just want to read some dirty threesome smut, be my guest XD
Super-happy PWP old skool for Soku, who requested a fic where “Hawkeye watches them together”. This is that request plus my penchant for dominant!Hawkeye…I’d be her sub any day *_*
A/N: Note that these smut scenes are all technically non-connected (they’re all stand-alone) - the only important thing is the pairing :D
Roy side
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“Is it light out, still?”
“Yes, sir.” His drab new secretary answers without a sliver of interest, still scribbling away at her ledger. Roy frowns at her and tries to peer over her severe haircut, but he still can’t see the clock.
“What time is it?”
“Five minutes since the last time you asked. Which was four fifty.”
Edward’s voice from the couch, where he is lying splayed across the cushions in the most decadent fashion. He isn’t bothering with any semblance of decency today, Roy notices, and the urge to march him right down to the supply store and find him a pair of pants that fits is nearly overwhelming. Leather just isn’t meant to pull that way, he thinks with a wince, and at any rate he’s far too old to keep participating in that rather…ill-advised fashion trend. The material fits to his body like a second skin, and it leaves very little to the imagination.
Edward notices him staring and grins back wolfishly, adds a little flex of the thighs that has Roy shuddering and staring at the wall for comfort.
“And no, I don’t think I can make it go any faster for you. Unless, maybe, you want to try escaping again…?”
He rather thinks the boy is enjoying this.
“Good-day, sir.” His assistant says abruptly, and he is amazed to see it is actually five - her gigantic hair buns have disappeared and left him with the timer, which is busily ticking off another uncomfortable one hundred and twenty seconds.
“Good-day…Roseanne?” He hazards, but she gives him as little acknowledgment as possible and sweeps briskly out the door. No matter. The temp agency will replace her for tomorrow.
Edward makes a bored noise as he traces something theoretical into the plush of the couch cushions, and it is all Roy can do not to start raving at him.
He is not supposed to want this so much.
The timer finally screams, sending him damn near out of his skin; Edward gives it a nasty look and chucks one of the coffee table books at it. It takes a back-flip off of the desk and lands loudly on the floor, where it continues to shrill like a wildcat strapped to a gong.
Footsteps, in the hallway now, and his mouth goes dry with anticipation. The door opens.
Roy hisses and does his damndest not to put the feeling into sound, because she is absolutely perfect in her new uniform - as fierce as the creature her surname implies, the hard line of her mouth in perfect tune with the crisp folds of her overcoat. She must have just gotten it starched, and the material over her chest is pulled tightly - too tightly, worse than Ed’s, and it is all he can do not to follow that down with his eyes and stare at her nipples, because surely there will be nipples poking out at him even under the usually modest broad cloth. Or her legs, because she’s wearing the miniskirt, and oh holy hells they are beautiful peeking out there, milky stretches of thigh and calf that he can’t wait to stare up at--
“Good afternoon.” She says, locking the door behind her, and his entire body comes to alert.
Riza strides across the room with almost tangible purpose, and her boots clip expertly to where the alarm clock is lying. She glares at Edward once, who shrugs slightly, before shutting it off with a hard, chopping motion.
She turns to him.
“Are the windows secure?”
“No, ma’am.” He whispers, the address still foreign and heavy on his tongue.
“Then seal them.”
He does whimper now, because of course that’s impossible; his legs are chained to his desk, and his shackles are too tight to let him stand up - let alone move to the windows. Perhaps she means him to beg? But Edward gets up and claps his hands to the wall first, and a thick sheet of reconstituted plaster rolls down over the space where the blinds used to be, throwing them all into darkness.
Riza is not pleased.
“Edward.” She says, and even the Fullmetal Alchemist knows when to stop screwing around and fly right.
“Ma’am.” He says respectfully, and Roy is a little jealous to note that he almost sounds sincere.
“Fix the light.”
Edward reaches up and brings the light back - not with alchemy this time, but by tugging on the chain - and the room is flooded with a sickly light, courtesy of the single bulb left in the fixture.
“What about the door?” Edward asks, but Riza shakes her head.
“You make things too airtight.”
Edward scowls.
”I don’t have to.” He insists. “I could alter a bit at the top, leave a vent there, or-“
“Come here.” She says, and pulls him into her ample chest.
Roy’s heart leaps into his throat as he watches the slowly, steady progression from struggle to euphoria, as Hawkeye bends down and nibbles behind Edward’s ears, down his jaw line, along his neck. Her hips sway and pitch as he begins to respond and she rolls with the motions - beautiful, seductive rhythm, all the goodness of sex standing up. Roy kicks at his shackles but the iron refuses to budge; he contemplates an array, but knows that consequences would be disastrous.
She pushes Edward away and flips him around to face Roy, clasps her arms around him from the back; the boy is flushed and panting and obviously not thinking a hell of a lot. She slides a hand down and forces him to spread his legs further, putting his already obvious erection even more on display. Roy swallows hard and envisions her pressing those perfectly cut nails down next to his own desperation, bucks his hips at the image.
“Do you want him?” She asks simply, tracing her other hand up under Edward’s shirt. Roy follows it with interest, but mostly because it is her hand; Edward is beautiful but he is nothing compared to Riza, her high-colored hair and those soft, milky thighs.
“…yes ma’am.” He answers finally, but she catches the delay, and sinks her teeth down into Edward’s shoulder. The young man goes stiff as a board as she flicks open his fly with a single, well-manicured hand.
“Do you want him?” She questions again, reaching in to slide a hand along Edward’s trouser line; Roy can see every movement of her fingers beneath the tight cloth of his pants. Edward cries out as she slides her hand beside his erection, and Roy’s breathing grows ragged in sympathy.
“Yes.” He hisses, thrashing against his chains, mesmerized by the sight of her hands rubbing up and down Edward’s body. “Yes ma’am.”
She smiles slightly, as if indulging a child’s fancy, and pulls Edward’s shirt up in one quick jerk, so he can see just where her long nails are rasping over the boy’s pale skin - they leave welts in their wake, and Edward keens and fucks empty air.
“Yessssss.” He hisses again, imagining those subtle curves pressed against his own back, her elegant talons scraping over his hardened nipples. “Fuck, now.”
He notices something is wrong only because Edward has stopped squirming, and then to his horror realizes that is because Riza has stopped teasing him - she is holding the boy against her chest with a wan sort of expression, and Edward is staring as well, in a peevish sort of way that bodes little well. A command. Oh fuck, a command, how stupid could he get, and now there is little hope of him seeing up that tight little skirt-
“Edward.” Riza says simply, and turns the boy loose, arching her back as she does so just so Roy can get a good look at her stiff nipples. Edward staggers, but the smile on his face is wicked, and it is times like these that Roy can understand just what it is that draws the boy to this place (really, far too young to be this old already, when did that happen?) and its far older deviants. He kicks at his shackles and thinks again of the pencil and paper, so maddeningly far away on his desk. One basic array, and his limbs would be free to fight back. But she was still watching him, observing his every move, and the knowledge that retribution would be swift and merciless leaves him tethered in place. He is harder than he can ever remembering being, and it is almost enough to make him scream when Edward sidles up to the chair. There are golden eyes staring down at him, large enough to devour, and it is not the first time that he knows this is being relished.
Damn the kid, for wanting him to fuck up.
Then there is nothing but heat as Edward’s tongue is pressed into his mouth, and the sharp, pungent odor of virile male at its most desperate; Edward fights his arms down with a well-timed application of automail. She is watching them struggle, he knows, and it makes him even more willing to please her - wants her to like what she sees and approve of his efforts, even though he knows that there is no way she will say as much. Edward’s lips are too smooth and too flat too keep hold of; they slip out from between his own as soon as he manages to capture one.
And oh fuck there’s a hand in between his legs now; a maddening addition because he knows there’s no way it will go anywhere beyond what she allows it to. It is just there to torture, this is part of his punishment, and if she wants him to beg like a dog on the street he would grovel at her heels; if she’d just come over here and tell Edward to press those fingers lower, to the left, in hard, lengthy strokes--
“On the desk.” She’s saying, and he’s suddenly twisting, being spun out of his chair by wiry arms until his ass is against the edge. “I want to see.”
His chains are straining uncomfortably now, and he can’t quite slide all the way back onto the desk; the result is a painful tip-toes position made even more awkward by the bundle of blonde hair and leg humping he is currently pinned under. He risks a look backwards (tilts his head until he nearly gets his hair caught in the paste well, actually) and his cock jumps a mile because she is smiling at this picture, at the contrast they make on the edge of his desk with black hair and blonde, one young and one learned. Edward bites at the underside of his chin and he groans with the sensation, tries his damndest to get in on some of the bump and grind now taking place dangerously close to his own erection. He has no leverage, though, tilted back like this, and it’s all he can do not to scream.
“Please, ma’am.” He finally brings himself to hiss, even though a part of his rational mind is still indignant at the prospect of begging. “I’ll be good.”
Edward is making unhappy noises too, and she bids him continue with seeming indifference to both of their discomfort; Roy knows that part of this is punishment for the boy’s earlier impatience with the window blinds. Edward likes to pretend he can hold out, but he is still too young to understand real control. Roy is exercising all of his at the moment, because Edward’s hands are sliding lower on his hips, and if it weren’t necessary for the boy to support his weight, there was no doubt Edward would have started pawing at his crotch by now. The boy is only an effective tease at a distance - up close and left to his own devices, he moves far too quickly.
And oh god, she must think so too, because now she is there behind Edward, wrapping her slender fingers around his wrists before his hands can be tempted to move further inward. She molds her curves around his backside and Edward stiffens like he’s been electrocuted; Roy can only imagine what it must feel like to have her firm breasts pressing into his back.
“Higher.” She purrs, and it’s not just the boy’s hands she is talking about - she places her own hands on Edward’s hips and coaxes him up on tip-toe, so he can finally rub his groin against Roy’s. They both jerk reflexively at the contact, needing it harder, faster, fuck, right there…Roy lets out a low, shaky cry and Edward mirrors it; the way they’re going they’re likely to start a goddamn fire.
And all the time she is watching, hazel eyes twinkling with a light so brilliant it’s practically alive. She. The one controlling their pacing, the very existence of this encounter; Roy’s eyes roll back in his head as she rocks her hips up against Edward’s ass as if meaning to fuck him. Maybe she does. Maybe she’ll fuck both of them, before the night is through.
It is not to be, though, because she must have decided they have not yet suffered enough; she hauls Edward off him so suddenly that the boy doesn’t even have time to figure out how to stand up correctly. Roy slides downward almost immediately and meets Edward’s body halfway; they slam together noisily and tumble to the hardwood floor, momentarily distracted from the fire in their groins by the fire in their knees.
He looks up past Ed’s cursing form and fuck yes, there it finally is - the cool, sloping expanses of her thighs where they curve up into her skirt. Sloping up to infinity, dizzying heights of femininity, and he kisses the floor where she stands in hopes of seeing more.
“Come here.” She commands, in exactly the same tone she uses for her dog; and fuck, they’re both lying there panting, Edward is whimpering, what else are they but her bitches? She spreads her legs and slides her hand down to the edge of her skirt and they are both riveted, unable to tear themselves away if they tried.
Slowly, much too slowly, she rolls the fabric upward; it seems like each new inch of skin is more tantalizing than the last. And finally, finally, the explosion of golden curls as her legs abruptly come together into a T, and they both hiss in unison as she slides down to a squat in front of them.
“On all fours.” She instructs, and spreads her legs further; they don’t need any further encouragement to scuttle forward and nuzzle at her. Dogs, yes, he could belong to her - he nips at her blessed thighs just as any lapdog might do, before pressing his nose closer and getting a good breath of her wonderful, heady scent. Edward elbows him hard and tries to nudge him out of the way, but Roy refuses to give up any ground. He bares his teeth and nips at the boy’s ear - the best he can do on all fours - and Edward’s hackles almost visibly raise, as if they really were animals.
“No!” She snaps, and flattens them both to the floor; she is towering above both of them and it is somehow terrifying. She looks down at him specifically and oh god, she’s displeased, she’s standing up and the skirt is coming back down again, and fuck, fuck, FUCK-the ruler hits him across the back and he doesn’t even flinch, it can’t possibly hurt any worse. His cock is practically screaming, trapped against the hardwood floor, and Edward can’t be fairing much better. The ruler comes again, once, twice, and he takes his licks like a good little puppy and tries to ignore how badly his cock throbs when her tits shake.
“Bad.” She admonishes them again, and they both nod eagerly, no less turned on for the ruler-whipping and nearly ready to start barking on command. Fuck, he needs to come, and Edward is even rubbing himself against the floor, as if he can somehow make it yield and give actual relief.
She is squatting before them again (damn that skirt!) and biding them to all fours again; neither of them dare move toward her for fear of making her stand up again. She reaches into her breast pocket and extracts a small vial of something, tosses it to Edward; he very nearly catches it in his mouth but fails at the very last minute. It falls to the ground with a nerve-racking clink, but thankfully, thankfully does not shatter.
“Go on.” She says, and there is the trace of a smile in her otherwise stern expression. Edward is looking at it like it’s Christmas, and she’s looking at him like a fond grandmother, and Roy just wants to grab one or both of them and fuck them into the ground, but it’s already clear he won’t be having either.
At least his pants are coming off, he thinks blearily as Ed practically flies to his backside; his erection has been trapped for so long he was worried it might fall off. She reaches forward and curls some of those oh-so-elegant fingers around his chin and tilts it upward just as Edward slides his trousers downward, and it is almost too much for him to bear. He is feverish, he is on fire, and the feeling of Edward’s slippery hands on his ass nearly makes his limbs melt.
“Open your mouth.” Another command, and he obeys it mindlessly, too far gone to even register what she is doing. Something hard and flat slides up and over his tongue just as something firm and round explores his backside, and he nearly gags at the combined assault. Ruler. Oh. He sucks on it dutifully and tries to breathe through his nose as Edward goes through what passes for his attempt at foreplay - again, the boy’s control is never much to speak of, and with his tongue suppressed like this he can’t even tell Edward what he’s doing wrong-
--or right, because he changes angles a bit and it suddenly becomes incredibly bearable, downright peachy in fact, and he bites down on the ruler so hard that she has tug to withdraw it. That earns him a sharp rap across the shoulders, but he is so far beyond caring…Edward is pressing into him, all the way into him, and that is all that really matters.
And then it is nothing but motion blurs, her thrusting the ruler in and out of his mouth so hard he can’t even moan; Edward thrusting into him so hard he can’t hardly breathe. His cock pulses with each and every stroke and he wants so fucking badly to touch it, he would be begging if she weren’t damn near choking him, he starts to shift his hand back…and she whips him with the ruler. The corner of it even draws blood this time. He just stares at it stupidly, watching the fluid bead along the surface of his forearm with no particular interest. This is nothing compared to his need to have Edward’s rough hands on his cock; nothing compared to his need to grab one or both of them and just ride until he came.
Edward is seizing up now against his legs and it won’t be long now; they’ve both been made to wait far, far too long, and this is a much needed release. He is already just as pissed off as he is turned on, but it still a spine-chilling thing when Edward finally comes - he surges forward with his entire body and just rattles against Roy’s sturdier frame, like a tiny leaf caught in the wake of a powerful gale.
“Fuck…fuck, fuck, FUCK…” He is chanting, and Roy is inclined to agree with him. He looks up at her through sweat-drenched bangs and her eyes are practically glowing, staring back at Edward, obviously satisfied. She slides the ruler out of his mouth and crawls back to wrap her arms around the boy; Roy can see over his shoulder that Edward’s eyes are practically rolled back into his head. She coaxes him down from it gently, slowly, slowly encourages them to separate, and then bids the boy curl up, exhausted, next to her. He will be asleep in a matter of minutes, and so it is not unusual for her to give him what is obviously a good night kiss, and-
Her shirt. Oh holy fucking hell, she’s taking off her shirt and draping it over Edward’s quivering form, and now those beautiful tits are finally free and jiggling in front of him, and fuck, he can’t wait any longer, he’s got to get his hands on something…she slaps his arms away but consents to curl herself around him from the back, neatly taking Edward’s place. Slowly, she slips her arms down underneath his belly…pets along his torso…
And then yes, there it is, a warm hand wrapped tightly around his cock and pumping away, and he very nearly weeps at the long-awaited stimulation. Her fingers are heaven, they are hell, ghosting up around the head and then all the way back down to the base, and stroking three kinds of fire into the shaft with every single knead. It’s so close, he’s right there, when suddenly she freezes and chokes it off, leaving him shivering and hovering on the pinnacle.
“Speak.” She whispers pointedly, and goddamn if he didn’t go ahead and bark for her.
And then the petting comes again, and then he can’t say anything at all for three blissful, explosive seconds.
He comes down from it eventually and collapses bonelessly into her lap, no longer able to support his own body weight; she catches him carefully and even permits him to pillow his head against her heavenly thighs. Edward stirs only slightly when his leg accidentally sprawls into him; Roy takes that to mean that he is sufficiently tired not to bitch about it later when they inevitably fail to wake him up for the conclusion. Because he is still lying so close to those beautiful legs, and he knows that she is nowhere near to being sated, and what good is a faithful little doggy without its wet, curious tongue?
All he knows is, if this is the punishment for skipping out early on work on Monday, he wants it to be Monday every day of the week.
But if you just want to read some dirty threesome smut, be my guest XD
Super-happy PWP old skool for Soku, who requested a fic where “Hawkeye watches them together”. This is that request plus my penchant for dominant!Hawkeye…I’d be her sub any day *_*
A/N: Note that these smut scenes are all technically non-connected (they’re all stand-alone) - the only important thing is the pairing :D
Roy side
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“Is it light out, still?”
“Yes, sir.” His drab new secretary answers without a sliver of interest, still scribbling away at her ledger. Roy frowns at her and tries to peer over her severe haircut, but he still can’t see the clock.
“What time is it?”
“Five minutes since the last time you asked. Which was four fifty.”
Edward’s voice from the couch, where he is lying splayed across the cushions in the most decadent fashion. He isn’t bothering with any semblance of decency today, Roy notices, and the urge to march him right down to the supply store and find him a pair of pants that fits is nearly overwhelming. Leather just isn’t meant to pull that way, he thinks with a wince, and at any rate he’s far too old to keep participating in that rather…ill-advised fashion trend. The material fits to his body like a second skin, and it leaves very little to the imagination.
Edward notices him staring and grins back wolfishly, adds a little flex of the thighs that has Roy shuddering and staring at the wall for comfort.
“And no, I don’t think I can make it go any faster for you. Unless, maybe, you want to try escaping again…?”
He rather thinks the boy is enjoying this.
“Good-day, sir.” His assistant says abruptly, and he is amazed to see it is actually five - her gigantic hair buns have disappeared and left him with the timer, which is busily ticking off another uncomfortable one hundred and twenty seconds.
“Good-day…Roseanne?” He hazards, but she gives him as little acknowledgment as possible and sweeps briskly out the door. No matter. The temp agency will replace her for tomorrow.
Edward makes a bored noise as he traces something theoretical into the plush of the couch cushions, and it is all Roy can do not to start raving at him.
He is not supposed to want this so much.
The timer finally screams, sending him damn near out of his skin; Edward gives it a nasty look and chucks one of the coffee table books at it. It takes a back-flip off of the desk and lands loudly on the floor, where it continues to shrill like a wildcat strapped to a gong.
Footsteps, in the hallway now, and his mouth goes dry with anticipation. The door opens.
Roy hisses and does his damndest not to put the feeling into sound, because she is absolutely perfect in her new uniform - as fierce as the creature her surname implies, the hard line of her mouth in perfect tune with the crisp folds of her overcoat. She must have just gotten it starched, and the material over her chest is pulled tightly - too tightly, worse than Ed’s, and it is all he can do not to follow that down with his eyes and stare at her nipples, because surely there will be nipples poking out at him even under the usually modest broad cloth. Or her legs, because she’s wearing the miniskirt, and oh holy hells they are beautiful peeking out there, milky stretches of thigh and calf that he can’t wait to stare up at--
“Good afternoon.” She says, locking the door behind her, and his entire body comes to alert.
Riza strides across the room with almost tangible purpose, and her boots clip expertly to where the alarm clock is lying. She glares at Edward once, who shrugs slightly, before shutting it off with a hard, chopping motion.
She turns to him.
“Are the windows secure?”
“No, ma’am.” He whispers, the address still foreign and heavy on his tongue.
“Then seal them.”
He does whimper now, because of course that’s impossible; his legs are chained to his desk, and his shackles are too tight to let him stand up - let alone move to the windows. Perhaps she means him to beg? But Edward gets up and claps his hands to the wall first, and a thick sheet of reconstituted plaster rolls down over the space where the blinds used to be, throwing them all into darkness.
Riza is not pleased.
“Edward.” She says, and even the Fullmetal Alchemist knows when to stop screwing around and fly right.
“Ma’am.” He says respectfully, and Roy is a little jealous to note that he almost sounds sincere.
“Fix the light.”
Edward reaches up and brings the light back - not with alchemy this time, but by tugging on the chain - and the room is flooded with a sickly light, courtesy of the single bulb left in the fixture.
“What about the door?” Edward asks, but Riza shakes her head.
“You make things too airtight.”
Edward scowls.
”I don’t have to.” He insists. “I could alter a bit at the top, leave a vent there, or-“
“Come here.” She says, and pulls him into her ample chest.
Roy’s heart leaps into his throat as he watches the slowly, steady progression from struggle to euphoria, as Hawkeye bends down and nibbles behind Edward’s ears, down his jaw line, along his neck. Her hips sway and pitch as he begins to respond and she rolls with the motions - beautiful, seductive rhythm, all the goodness of sex standing up. Roy kicks at his shackles but the iron refuses to budge; he contemplates an array, but knows that consequences would be disastrous.
She pushes Edward away and flips him around to face Roy, clasps her arms around him from the back; the boy is flushed and panting and obviously not thinking a hell of a lot. She slides a hand down and forces him to spread his legs further, putting his already obvious erection even more on display. Roy swallows hard and envisions her pressing those perfectly cut nails down next to his own desperation, bucks his hips at the image.
“Do you want him?” She asks simply, tracing her other hand up under Edward’s shirt. Roy follows it with interest, but mostly because it is her hand; Edward is beautiful but he is nothing compared to Riza, her high-colored hair and those soft, milky thighs.
“…yes ma’am.” He answers finally, but she catches the delay, and sinks her teeth down into Edward’s shoulder. The young man goes stiff as a board as she flicks open his fly with a single, well-manicured hand.
“Do you want him?” She questions again, reaching in to slide a hand along Edward’s trouser line; Roy can see every movement of her fingers beneath the tight cloth of his pants. Edward cries out as she slides her hand beside his erection, and Roy’s breathing grows ragged in sympathy.
“Yes.” He hisses, thrashing against his chains, mesmerized by the sight of her hands rubbing up and down Edward’s body. “Yes ma’am.”
She smiles slightly, as if indulging a child’s fancy, and pulls Edward’s shirt up in one quick jerk, so he can see just where her long nails are rasping over the boy’s pale skin - they leave welts in their wake, and Edward keens and fucks empty air.
“Yessssss.” He hisses again, imagining those subtle curves pressed against his own back, her elegant talons scraping over his hardened nipples. “Fuck, now.”
He notices something is wrong only because Edward has stopped squirming, and then to his horror realizes that is because Riza has stopped teasing him - she is holding the boy against her chest with a wan sort of expression, and Edward is staring as well, in a peevish sort of way that bodes little well. A command. Oh fuck, a command, how stupid could he get, and now there is little hope of him seeing up that tight little skirt-
“Edward.” Riza says simply, and turns the boy loose, arching her back as she does so just so Roy can get a good look at her stiff nipples. Edward staggers, but the smile on his face is wicked, and it is times like these that Roy can understand just what it is that draws the boy to this place (really, far too young to be this old already, when did that happen?) and its far older deviants. He kicks at his shackles and thinks again of the pencil and paper, so maddeningly far away on his desk. One basic array, and his limbs would be free to fight back. But she was still watching him, observing his every move, and the knowledge that retribution would be swift and merciless leaves him tethered in place. He is harder than he can ever remembering being, and it is almost enough to make him scream when Edward sidles up to the chair. There are golden eyes staring down at him, large enough to devour, and it is not the first time that he knows this is being relished.
Damn the kid, for wanting him to fuck up.
Then there is nothing but heat as Edward’s tongue is pressed into his mouth, and the sharp, pungent odor of virile male at its most desperate; Edward fights his arms down with a well-timed application of automail. She is watching them struggle, he knows, and it makes him even more willing to please her - wants her to like what she sees and approve of his efforts, even though he knows that there is no way she will say as much. Edward’s lips are too smooth and too flat too keep hold of; they slip out from between his own as soon as he manages to capture one.
And oh fuck there’s a hand in between his legs now; a maddening addition because he knows there’s no way it will go anywhere beyond what she allows it to. It is just there to torture, this is part of his punishment, and if she wants him to beg like a dog on the street he would grovel at her heels; if she’d just come over here and tell Edward to press those fingers lower, to the left, in hard, lengthy strokes--
“On the desk.” She’s saying, and he’s suddenly twisting, being spun out of his chair by wiry arms until his ass is against the edge. “I want to see.”
His chains are straining uncomfortably now, and he can’t quite slide all the way back onto the desk; the result is a painful tip-toes position made even more awkward by the bundle of blonde hair and leg humping he is currently pinned under. He risks a look backwards (tilts his head until he nearly gets his hair caught in the paste well, actually) and his cock jumps a mile because she is smiling at this picture, at the contrast they make on the edge of his desk with black hair and blonde, one young and one learned. Edward bites at the underside of his chin and he groans with the sensation, tries his damndest to get in on some of the bump and grind now taking place dangerously close to his own erection. He has no leverage, though, tilted back like this, and it’s all he can do not to scream.
“Please, ma’am.” He finally brings himself to hiss, even though a part of his rational mind is still indignant at the prospect of begging. “I’ll be good.”
Edward is making unhappy noises too, and she bids him continue with seeming indifference to both of their discomfort; Roy knows that part of this is punishment for the boy’s earlier impatience with the window blinds. Edward likes to pretend he can hold out, but he is still too young to understand real control. Roy is exercising all of his at the moment, because Edward’s hands are sliding lower on his hips, and if it weren’t necessary for the boy to support his weight, there was no doubt Edward would have started pawing at his crotch by now. The boy is only an effective tease at a distance - up close and left to his own devices, he moves far too quickly.
And oh god, she must think so too, because now she is there behind Edward, wrapping her slender fingers around his wrists before his hands can be tempted to move further inward. She molds her curves around his backside and Edward stiffens like he’s been electrocuted; Roy can only imagine what it must feel like to have her firm breasts pressing into his back.
“Higher.” She purrs, and it’s not just the boy’s hands she is talking about - she places her own hands on Edward’s hips and coaxes him up on tip-toe, so he can finally rub his groin against Roy’s. They both jerk reflexively at the contact, needing it harder, faster, fuck, right there…Roy lets out a low, shaky cry and Edward mirrors it; the way they’re going they’re likely to start a goddamn fire.
And all the time she is watching, hazel eyes twinkling with a light so brilliant it’s practically alive. She. The one controlling their pacing, the very existence of this encounter; Roy’s eyes roll back in his head as she rocks her hips up against Edward’s ass as if meaning to fuck him. Maybe she does. Maybe she’ll fuck both of them, before the night is through.
It is not to be, though, because she must have decided they have not yet suffered enough; she hauls Edward off him so suddenly that the boy doesn’t even have time to figure out how to stand up correctly. Roy slides downward almost immediately and meets Edward’s body halfway; they slam together noisily and tumble to the hardwood floor, momentarily distracted from the fire in their groins by the fire in their knees.
He looks up past Ed’s cursing form and fuck yes, there it finally is - the cool, sloping expanses of her thighs where they curve up into her skirt. Sloping up to infinity, dizzying heights of femininity, and he kisses the floor where she stands in hopes of seeing more.
“Come here.” She commands, in exactly the same tone she uses for her dog; and fuck, they’re both lying there panting, Edward is whimpering, what else are they but her bitches? She spreads her legs and slides her hand down to the edge of her skirt and they are both riveted, unable to tear themselves away if they tried.
Slowly, much too slowly, she rolls the fabric upward; it seems like each new inch of skin is more tantalizing than the last. And finally, finally, the explosion of golden curls as her legs abruptly come together into a T, and they both hiss in unison as she slides down to a squat in front of them.
“On all fours.” She instructs, and spreads her legs further; they don’t need any further encouragement to scuttle forward and nuzzle at her. Dogs, yes, he could belong to her - he nips at her blessed thighs just as any lapdog might do, before pressing his nose closer and getting a good breath of her wonderful, heady scent. Edward elbows him hard and tries to nudge him out of the way, but Roy refuses to give up any ground. He bares his teeth and nips at the boy’s ear - the best he can do on all fours - and Edward’s hackles almost visibly raise, as if they really were animals.
“No!” She snaps, and flattens them both to the floor; she is towering above both of them and it is somehow terrifying. She looks down at him specifically and oh god, she’s displeased, she’s standing up and the skirt is coming back down again, and fuck, fuck, FUCK-the ruler hits him across the back and he doesn’t even flinch, it can’t possibly hurt any worse. His cock is practically screaming, trapped against the hardwood floor, and Edward can’t be fairing much better. The ruler comes again, once, twice, and he takes his licks like a good little puppy and tries to ignore how badly his cock throbs when her tits shake.
“Bad.” She admonishes them again, and they both nod eagerly, no less turned on for the ruler-whipping and nearly ready to start barking on command. Fuck, he needs to come, and Edward is even rubbing himself against the floor, as if he can somehow make it yield and give actual relief.
She is squatting before them again (damn that skirt!) and biding them to all fours again; neither of them dare move toward her for fear of making her stand up again. She reaches into her breast pocket and extracts a small vial of something, tosses it to Edward; he very nearly catches it in his mouth but fails at the very last minute. It falls to the ground with a nerve-racking clink, but thankfully, thankfully does not shatter.
“Go on.” She says, and there is the trace of a smile in her otherwise stern expression. Edward is looking at it like it’s Christmas, and she’s looking at him like a fond grandmother, and Roy just wants to grab one or both of them and fuck them into the ground, but it’s already clear he won’t be having either.
At least his pants are coming off, he thinks blearily as Ed practically flies to his backside; his erection has been trapped for so long he was worried it might fall off. She reaches forward and curls some of those oh-so-elegant fingers around his chin and tilts it upward just as Edward slides his trousers downward, and it is almost too much for him to bear. He is feverish, he is on fire, and the feeling of Edward’s slippery hands on his ass nearly makes his limbs melt.
“Open your mouth.” Another command, and he obeys it mindlessly, too far gone to even register what she is doing. Something hard and flat slides up and over his tongue just as something firm and round explores his backside, and he nearly gags at the combined assault. Ruler. Oh. He sucks on it dutifully and tries to breathe through his nose as Edward goes through what passes for his attempt at foreplay - again, the boy’s control is never much to speak of, and with his tongue suppressed like this he can’t even tell Edward what he’s doing wrong-
--or right, because he changes angles a bit and it suddenly becomes incredibly bearable, downright peachy in fact, and he bites down on the ruler so hard that she has tug to withdraw it. That earns him a sharp rap across the shoulders, but he is so far beyond caring…Edward is pressing into him, all the way into him, and that is all that really matters.
And then it is nothing but motion blurs, her thrusting the ruler in and out of his mouth so hard he can’t even moan; Edward thrusting into him so hard he can’t hardly breathe. His cock pulses with each and every stroke and he wants so fucking badly to touch it, he would be begging if she weren’t damn near choking him, he starts to shift his hand back…and she whips him with the ruler. The corner of it even draws blood this time. He just stares at it stupidly, watching the fluid bead along the surface of his forearm with no particular interest. This is nothing compared to his need to have Edward’s rough hands on his cock; nothing compared to his need to grab one or both of them and just ride until he came.
Edward is seizing up now against his legs and it won’t be long now; they’ve both been made to wait far, far too long, and this is a much needed release. He is already just as pissed off as he is turned on, but it still a spine-chilling thing when Edward finally comes - he surges forward with his entire body and just rattles against Roy’s sturdier frame, like a tiny leaf caught in the wake of a powerful gale.
“Fuck…fuck, fuck, FUCK…” He is chanting, and Roy is inclined to agree with him. He looks up at her through sweat-drenched bangs and her eyes are practically glowing, staring back at Edward, obviously satisfied. She slides the ruler out of his mouth and crawls back to wrap her arms around the boy; Roy can see over his shoulder that Edward’s eyes are practically rolled back into his head. She coaxes him down from it gently, slowly, slowly encourages them to separate, and then bids the boy curl up, exhausted, next to her. He will be asleep in a matter of minutes, and so it is not unusual for her to give him what is obviously a good night kiss, and-
Her shirt. Oh holy fucking hell, she’s taking off her shirt and draping it over Edward’s quivering form, and now those beautiful tits are finally free and jiggling in front of him, and fuck, he can’t wait any longer, he’s got to get his hands on something…she slaps his arms away but consents to curl herself around him from the back, neatly taking Edward’s place. Slowly, she slips her arms down underneath his belly…pets along his torso…
And then yes, there it is, a warm hand wrapped tightly around his cock and pumping away, and he very nearly weeps at the long-awaited stimulation. Her fingers are heaven, they are hell, ghosting up around the head and then all the way back down to the base, and stroking three kinds of fire into the shaft with every single knead. It’s so close, he’s right there, when suddenly she freezes and chokes it off, leaving him shivering and hovering on the pinnacle.
“Speak.” She whispers pointedly, and goddamn if he didn’t go ahead and bark for her.
And then the petting comes again, and then he can’t say anything at all for three blissful, explosive seconds.
He comes down from it eventually and collapses bonelessly into her lap, no longer able to support his own body weight; she catches him carefully and even permits him to pillow his head against her heavenly thighs. Edward stirs only slightly when his leg accidentally sprawls into him; Roy takes that to mean that he is sufficiently tired not to bitch about it later when they inevitably fail to wake him up for the conclusion. Because he is still lying so close to those beautiful legs, and he knows that she is nowhere near to being sated, and what good is a faithful little doggy without its wet, curious tongue?
All he knows is, if this is the punishment for skipping out early on work on Monday, he wants it to be Monday every day of the week.