The Limits of Control: a BDSM love story, Chapter 4, part 1
Title: The Limits of Control: a BDSM love story
Chapter: Chapter 4/9?
Word count: About... 25-30,000 so far?
Series: 2003 anime... sort of. Assuming a slightly alternate ending.
Characters: Roy Mustang, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric
Rating: M. Mature. Explicit. NC-17. Porn.
Warnings: Serious kinkiness. Pain play, whipping, dominance/submission, bondage. Oh, and a profusion of cursing, though that's going to be the least of your worries!
Summary: Just because you want something doesn't mean it's easy to let yourself have it. Relationships are hard enough even when they're totally normal - but Roy and Ed seem determined to make theirs as not-normal as it can get.
BDSM porn with a plot. Or plot with overwhelming amounts of porn. Pick one.
Notes: A totally unofficial (and much longer) sequel to Cryogenia's wonderful "Ties that Bind." If you haven't read it, go read it here!
This chapter: Our heroes banter more! Edward gets his shit together, or doesn't, as the case may be! Roy wonders what the hell he's gotten himself into! The two together make the best kind of disaster! And yes, hot man-on-man action. All this and more in today's installment of our BDSM love story!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
*
It took only about a week for the military bureaucracy to fully negotiate the Elrics' contracts and have them on the first assignment -- a sign of just how desperate the military was for alchemists with civilian skills, though no-one would admit it. It took Roy and Ed about only about three days of working near each other to get in their first major fight, a sign of -- well, he hadn't quite sussed that out yet, though he was doing his honest-to-god best.
“Are you trying to insult us?” Ed snapped, slamming his hands down on the desk and glaring at Roy with a fire in his eyes like he used to, once upon a time. Alphonse stood beside him with his hands folded in front of him and stiff shoulders, managing to look somehow both resigned and peeved at once. “I thought it was bad the last time I did shit for you sons of bitches, but this is another level! Like hell I'm gonna waltz around and do this kinda work for you. We're the fucking Elric brothers. We could kick all your asses if we fucking wanted! We don't gotta do your dirty work if we don't want to.”
Funny how this particular genius's ability to use proper grammar dropped to a grade-schooler's level when he got angry, though a grade-schooler with the filthiest mouth Roy had ever heard.
“You are a military contractor,” the general said, voice edged in amusement combined with more than a sprinkling of irritation. “Dirty work is in the job description. It's written in to your contract, actually,” Roy said, finally allowing himself his first knifing smirk. “Page five, halfway down: 'You are our bitch.' Didn't you notice?”
Edward snarled like a wild thing.
“You bastard, I'm not anybody's --”
“Brother, calm down!” Alphonse shot out, interrupting Ed's burgeoning tirade. “And shame on you too, Colonel, for encouraging him like this.”
Both men looked appropriately chastised. Sometimes Roy very much missed the half-shy, awkward eleven-year-old he had met such a long time ago -- that younger Alphonse had been far too polite to ever tell his commanding officer off.
This situation was crucially different than it had been back then, however. He had never been Alphonse’s superior, of course, but now he had no official jurisdiction whatsoever over either of them.
“Official,” being of course, the key word. The Elrics were hardly stupid, and the fact that they had officially been assigned to work with Lieutenant Burne from Resources did little to hide the fact that Roy had more than a casual hand in their affairs.
“My apologies, Alphonse,” Roy found himself saying.
“Yeah, sorry,” Ed muttered, standing up from where he had been bent over the table and running a hand through his bangs. He gave the general another glare, though with not half the intensity. “But seriously, Mustang. Sewer work? Really?” Roy raised a perfect eyebrow.
“Were you expecting something more glamorous?” the older man asked, putting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. “If that's what you're looking for, you should look elsewhere for gainful employment. The truth is that someone has to design and implement a new plumbing system for Central headquarters. That is hardly the specialty of any of the State Alchemists. If you decide not to do it, we will be forced to either hire an engineer and a construction crew, or an engineer and a set of alchemists to do the actual constructing. On the other hand, either of you two could probably design a functional plan in your heads right now, and be done putting it together before dinnertime.” Ed shifted, frowning. “You should be honored, Fullmetal. I recommended you to do something I thought that no one in the military could do.”
“First of all, don't call me that. That's not my name anymore. Second, I knew you had a hand in this crap. You were feeding me all those pretty words about how we're not actually working together and you’re not my superior officer and you couldn’t order me around even if you wanted to or whatever the fuck you were saying but it's not really different than it was before, is it?” Roy had a feeling that the other man's dark glare had to do with more than just his painfully plebeian assignment. “Come on, Al, let's go,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the door.
“Oh no, Brother. You can go home if you want -- maybe you should, if you're going to be such an infant -- but I am going to stay and do the job that I agreed to do and that I am getting paid for. You can do whatever you like,” said Al, his genuinely pleasant smile doing nothing whatsoever to disguise the tone of threat.
The general wondered briefly where the Edward he had conversed with at that last dinner had gone. Ed was nothing if not extreme in his emotions, but the range of them over the past several weeks had been nothing short of astonishing.
Roy was a smart man. He could put two and two together to make four, and he could easily connect angry office Edward to awkward bedroom Edward and painfully forward, sexually confident Edward to make something else entirely.
It didn't take a genius to see that the man was scared.
That made too much sense. The hot-then-cold, supremely volatile attitude would be Ed’s natural reaction to the unfamiliar: Edward Elric met anything that frightened him with either a blinding anger or a headlong charge, full of grace and more than a healthy dose of cockiness. But Roy knew from experience that a deep self-doubt suffused the other man's arrogance - no, confidence, because to be fair, Ed's self-assurance was far more often justified than not. Even when it had been at its worst, Roy had only ever been allowed to see this doubt in glimpses, but over the years those flashes became less and less frequent. Such doubt was not, perhaps, so central to Edward as it once had been, the older man knew that it had never quite disappeared, like a pair of gloves he had begun to outgrow but hadn't quite gotten around to throwing away.
“Your brother's right, Edward. Be reasonable. I'm only trying to help you,” the general said, remembering an instant too late just how childish Ed was acting at that moment, and remembered also how a young Fullmetal had once reacted to the idea of one Colonel Mustang helping him in any way.
“Help?! The fuck do you think you're saying?” Edward snarled. Roy may have gotten a sense of the cause of all that anger, but that didn’t mean that the result was any less frustrating. “You've been using us since -- wha, hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?” he squawked, as Alphonse grabbed Ed by the waist and hauled his older brother over his shoulder. “The fuck, Al?! Put me down!”
“Sorry about this, General,” Alphonse said, with a tiny bow towards the general as his brother flailed about, an exercise in futility. Al may not have been a suit of armor anymore but apparently he was still quite strong when he had a mind to be. “I'll talk some sense into him.”
“Thank you, Alphonse,” the older man said, not bothering to hide his relief. Al turned and marched out the door, taking his squalling brother out with him. Roy felt a smile break into his expression, though for what reason, exactly, he couldn't be sure.
The next day, Central Headquarters had a new, better designed plumbing system that was no longer leaking into the third floor women's bathroom, and Roy had a red-faced Fullmetal back in his office. The blonde made no attempt to hide his emotions, which was unreasonably charming. This time, he stood with elbows locked and shoulders hunched in front of the general's desk, mouth wrinkled down into a scowl, as if he blamed Roy for his embarrassment.
Roy smiled, leaning back in his chair
“What brings you here today, Fullmetal?” he asked, pleasantly. “Back for more of the usual?”
Ed snorted.
“No, you bastard,” he muttered, eyes on the floor. “I came to apologize,” he said, then stalked over to the office couch and flopped down on it, arranging himself so that he took up as much of the furniture as he could manage. He looked so much like he used to, in the office in East City, that Roy was inexplicably glad that he had kept the old setup.
“Oh? I had no idea you even knew the word,” Roy said, smirking more out of habit than anything else.
“Save it, Colonel. General. Shit, whatever.” He could hear the deep breath Ed took across the room. “I'm not here to fight with you. Al said he thinks he knows what you've been doing, and he convinced me. He says you’ve been getting us jobs that aren't dangerous or physically demanding, for his sake, what with his new body and all.”
Not just for Al's sake, Roy added silently, but decided not to interrupt.
“And, y'know, jobs where nobody's gonna ask us to do anything that’s wrong, or make us leave Central.” He slung his right arm over the edge of the couch and stared at the door he came in through. Roy allowed himself a quiet laugh.
“I must confess that my reasons for the last one may not have been entirely altruistic,” he said, carefully.
Ed's eyes shot over to the other man in half a second.
“Yeah?”
Roy sized the blonde up carefully: Ed was unique in his ability to look tense, even when slouching, boneless, and sprawled across three quarters of a couch plus half of one coffee table.
“Well, Edward. I have very much enjoyed our arrangement. I also enjoy your and your brother's company. Please don't take it any way other than the way it was meant if I say that I don't want to let you go at such a... critical time.”
Edward didn't respond, just stared at him. Roy wished he could know whether the blank look on his face covered up a flurry of thoughts or whether it was just utter confusion. One moment dragged into several, and after probably thirty seconds even Roy had to suppress the urge to squirm.
“Edward? Something the matter?”
“Critical... how?” the blonde finally asked, a faint edge of suspicion to his voice. Roy winced, wondering if he deserved such mistrust. He probably did.
“I just mean that we're trying to figure out what this” - he made a vague inclusive gesture -- “is, and what it's going to be. I imagine that you wouldn’t much want to leave right now, either.”
“Well, no, but that's not the point. In any case, I dunno what you’re tryin’ to figure out. I think you and I're pretty clear.”
Roy's eyebrows shot up.
“Are we? I must say, Fullmetal, for once you seem to be several steps ahead of me. Please, enlighten me.”
“Don't make fun of me --”
“I'm not,” Roy interrupted, then sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples slowly. “I just don't know what you mean.”
Edward seemed to give this some thought, then said:
“Well, it's pretty obvious what you think of this, isn't it? You're still bossing me around, and you promised you wouldn't. You said that what we did in -- well -- I mean.” Roy didn't have to open his eyes again to know that the other man was probably blushing hard. “You promised that what we did those times wouldn't affect anything. You haven't kept up your promise. I dunno why you expect me not to be angry when you're still acting like you've got me and Al singin' on cue.”
Roy's laugh sounded tired, even to his own ears. Edward was going to be the death of him, and probably sooner rather than later.
“Edward, I haven’t changed anything at all. We've acted like this towards each other for, what is it, six years now? I tease, you explode, everybody gets back to their day. What exactly were you expecting?”
“I dunno,” Ed said, shrugging as best as he could with one arm still slung over the back of the couch. “I guess I just hoped that you would start treating me like an adult, like someone worth five minutes of your time.” Everything that went unsaid in that sentence made Roy hurt. “I mean, I'd want you to take me seriously anyway, even if we weren't -- you know,” he added, this time suppressing any outward sign of embarrassment. “I'm eighteen now. Not a kid. I haven't been for a long time, anyway.”
He said it as if Roy weren't painfully aware of that fact. He ran words over in his mind, selecting each one with care.
“If I made you feel like you aren't valued, then I am sorry. That was never my intention. I just enjoy our verbal sparring, that's all. I said I wasn't going to change how I treated you just because of our private activities, and I haven’t.”
Edward watched him for a moment, considering. After a moment he stood up, then stretched his arms above his head, rocking from heel to toe and back.
“Alright,” he said as he let his arms fall to his sides. “That's cool. Whatever. I'll see you later.” With that, he turned and stalked towards the door.
Well, shit. Roy had no idea how his constant attempts to say the right thing kept ending up so - so wrong. Edward Elric was probably the most complicated person that he had ever had the beautiful misfortune to become involved with.
“Wait, Ed,” Roy said, on instinct. An intense relief cut him as the man stopped in his tracks, though he didn't turn back around. “I'm sorry. Allow me to take you to dinner to make up for it.”
The words hung suspended between them for a moment. Edward turned back, excruciatingly slowly.
“I'm sorry, what?”
“Dinner?” Roy's mouth repeated, automatic practices taking over even as he hoped he was judging the situation right. “I would be honored if -”
“Spare me your souped-up Casanova bullshit,” Ed spat, and Roy winced internally. Automatic mode clearly hadn't helped. “You can't pull one over on me with that crap.”
“I would never hope to try to pull anything over on you. But, I don't see how being nice to a prospective date hurts anything,” he said. Edward blushed down to his roots.
“You don't need to be nice to me, General. I'm not a delicate little flower.”
“Don't tease you, then don't be nice to you?” Roy asked, one eyebrow up. “Forgive me if I'm confused, you're sending very mixed signals. You're going to have to make up your mind.”
Edward just stood, frozen, staring at the older man in bafflement.
“...You meant it, then?”
“I never would have asked if I didn't.”
Another pause.
“And you'd be paying?” he finally asked, cautiously. The general smiled -- of course that would be Ed's primary concern.
“Naturally. I was the one who asked, after all.”
“Well.” He paused. “My policy is to never turn down a free meal,” he said, like a concession.
Roy found that response so amusing, so utterly Edward, that he had to suppress a laugh. Somehow he suspected that the younger man wouldn't appreciate it.
“Wonderful. Meet me at my place at seven? Oh, and dress at least somewhat nicely,” he said, straightening up in his chair.
“I'll put on whatever the fuck I want to, Mustang,” he growled as he turned back towards the door and stomped out. Roy watched the other man's rigid, retreating back, and smiled.
Such a horrible idea probably shouldn’t make him so happy.
*
“So, I heard you're dating the General now, Brother. That's nice.”
“Shut up, Al.”
“Do you want me to help you pick out something to wear for tonight?”
“Shut UP, Al!”
*
The door glared at Roy from the front entryway no matter how steadfastly he tried to ignore it. His eyes kept flickering up off of the faded, handwritten pages of his book, and he was certain he had read this paragraph before - possibly multiple times. Even if he had, he had to do it again, because none of it had lodged anywhere in his brain and he was determined to read until at least some of it stuck.
His task was not helped by the fact that he had unwisely chosen to sit in his living-room armchair, the one he would now forever associate with Edward, naked between Roy's knees, unbound hair swinging back and forth as his head bobbed up and down on Roy's cock...
The man took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and refocused, pushing those images away forcefully. He stared at the page in front of him. The book stared back. Roy could have sworn it looked smug.
Roy slammed the book shut and reached for his brandy. It occurred to him that among the many other distinctions it could claim, this evening would mark the first time that he had ever felt the need to study up in preparation for a date -- at least academically. If he did any kind of research before a normal date, it tended to involve candy and flowers and a certain lady’s preferences with regards to either. Somehow he didn't think that Ed would appreciate either.
The second strangest thing about the evening was how nervous he felt. Roy hadn't felt this out of his depth romantically since he had been a teenager himself. He wasn’t entirely unused to romancing men, but trying it with Edward Elric was a different matter in every conceivable way. In fact, Roy’s brain couldn’t quite put “Edward” and “romance” together in the same sentence without utterly shutting down.
In short, Roy was having some major second thoughts. His cock wasn't, though. No - at least one part of his anatomy was completely and utterly certain.
Nothing could quell the sudden panic, however, when a voice interrupted his silent musings.
“Whatcha reading there?” it said, sounding entirely too familiar. Roy sat up like a shot, nearly dropping his book, to see Ed leaning on the frame of the door into the entry hallway. He put the text down on the side-table carefully, to avoid any more such incidents.
“Ah, Fullmetal. I see you didn't bother to knock,” the general said, standing up out of habit, both to be polite and because he didn't want to think about the last time Edward had seen him in that chair. He tried to avoid going on dates with raging hard-ons.
“Well, I did, but you didn't answer,” replied Ed, hands shoved into his pockets, and stepped into the living room. Roy couldn't help but notice how the orange light from the fireplace caught in the younger man's loose hair, or how he had left the top three -- three -- buttons of his shirt undone, baring the top of his chest to Roy’s appreciative eyes. His black pants were so neatly pressed -- if Roy's eyes did not deceive him, there were even creases down the front of the legs -- that it couldn't possibly have been Ed's own work.
“Unless I'm losing my hearing, that can't possibly be true. I was listening quite intently for your arrival,” Roy said, enjoying the line of muscle that swept from Ed’s neck to his exposed clavicles.
“Okay, I lied,” the blonde said, quite unconcerned. “What’s the use of knocking if I know you’re just gonna let me in anyway?” He took a few steps into the living room, then plopped down on the couch he had so recently occupied in quite a different capacity. “Listening ‘intently,’ huh?” he asked after a moment, grin dangerous.
Roy decided not to respond to that last part.
“You seem not to have picked up on this, so I’ll fill you in: it’s not really considered polite to transmute people's doors open, as a rule.”
“Eh, you don't mind,” Ed replied, body relaxing into the couch, sharp smile never faltering. The man looked altogether much more confident than Roy had been expecting, much more purposeful and knowing. Immediately the older man regretted allowing the other to sit down on that couch at all.
“True enough. If I did, though, you wouldn't be sitting there as comfortable and burn-free as you are,” Roy said, amiably. “Please keep that in mind.” He paused, took a breath. “You're very well pressed, this evening. I don't think I really expected you to make any special effort.”
Ed made a face as he glanced down at his clothes.
“Al did it. He didn't really give me a choice in the matter.” He paused, awkward for only a moment. “Except the hair. The hair was my idea. But, y'know, Al can be really fuckin' persuasive when he wants to be. Which I guess is all the time,” he said. Roy smiled at the smooth change of subject, and decided to let it pass. “You know, he knew about this before I even got home? Fuckin' ambushed me at the fuckin' door.”
The older man laughed. Edward was the only person he knew who regularly used multiple-expletive sentences in casual conversation.
“I assume you mean our plans for tonight?” A nod. “Well, I'm not at all surprised. I believe we have established that Alphonse is much cleverer than you. I see a lot of myself in him, actually.” Roy cut off the indignant remark by saying, “You really do look extraordinary, though. You're going to turn heads tonight.”
Ed blushed to his toes and stared at the wall, one of his preferred defense mechanisms.
“You should wear your hair like that more often. It suits you very well,” the general said, a statement crafted with the express intention of causing the other man to redden further, and that had the added benefit of being true.
The other man did exactly as expected, except for one part. He flushed like he might die of embarrassment, then turned to Roy and said:
“You know, you're barkin' up the wrong tree if you're trying to use compliments to get into my pants. I don't work like that.”
Roy frowned briefly.
“There are several things I would like to say to that. First, why would you assume that my compliments are anything but entirely genuine? I've never given a compliment I didn't mean one hundred percent. To a date, in any case,” he corrected when Ed snorted. “Secondly, I thought that sex, eventually, was one of the points of the exercise?”
“What do you mean, 'exercise'?” Ed hissed. Roy sighed, wishing he'd had more brandy already so this part of the evening would be at least marginally less trying.
“Not 'exercise' as in something I'm forced to do, Edward. Exercise just as in 'action,' something new we're experimenting with,” he said, then stood up and walked over to the back of the living room, opening the glass-paneled door of his liquor cabinet to examine the contents. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Normally, you don't need alcohol to deal with something you're supposed to enjoy,” Edward said, every word accusing.
“That is categorically untrue,” Roy replied with a short laugh as he pulled his gold-label brandy off of its shelf. He eyed the level of the liquid with some regret - only about a third left, and he hadn't bought it that long ago. He sighed, and made a resolution not to have any more for the rest of the week. Assuming that this evening went well, he amended. “Also, I would appreciate it if you would try not to be so touchy. I am doing my best to make this a pleasant experience, but you are making it very difficult for me.”
Edward shot straight up off of the couch, eyes narrowed. In the light from the fire they almost glowed yellow, like a cat's.
“If I’m so much trouble for you then fine, I'll leave,” he spat, squaring his shoulders. “Forget about all of this,” he said, and stalked back over to the entry door. Roy poured brandy into a clean crystal glass, never looking up to watch the teen's angry fit.
Time for a different approach.
“Well, that would be a shame,” Roy said, tone light. “I did manage to get reservations at the Seven Sisters restaurant on the East Side.”
Edward froze for a second, halfway to the door. After a moment he twitched and swung back around to face the other man. He hunched his shoulders, tense, like he would spring in any direction at the slightest provocation. He stared at the general with a furrowed brow.
“The... the Seven Sisters? That Xingian place?”
Roy allowed himself a flicker of self-satisfaction. At least this one well-practiced skill translated perfectly to Edward.
“The reservations are for seven forty-five. Someone from the motor pool will be arriving to take us there at seven fifteen. In the meantime, why don't you sit down and have some of this brandy? It's quite good.”
“Isn't it all expensive and shit?” asked Ed, the wariness never quite fading.
“Well, yes, technically speaking, but so was the lock you transmuted open. I shudder to think what you might have transformed it into. At least you will only make my brandy disappear, and that is what it was intended for.”
He watched Fullmetal in silence for a moment. The younger man walked back into the room, looking calmer than he had moments ago but significantly less at ease than he had been just a short while before that. Amazing, Roy thought, and more than a bit sad, that a set of compliments could unsettle the blonde so easily, and so thoroughly.
Ed strode over to stand in front of Roy, plucked the glass from his hands, then turned back to sit down on the couch again. He took a sip and made an appreciative noise as the liquid slid down his throat.
When, exactly, had the man had become a connoisseur of fine spirits, able to appreciate the subtle wood-soaked bouquet of an aged brandy? So much of the man was still a mystery to him.
The blonde downed the whole glass in one long gulp. Roy actually felt himself twitch.
Ed looked up at him expectantly.
“So, small talk,” he said, throwing his arm over the back of the couch again. “Let's get at it.”
Ed looked at Roy in silence, and Roy looked back, a lightness bubbling up in his chest as a smile caught on his face. He moved to sit next to the other man, unable to hold back a laugh.
Sometimes, living and working among politicians and socialites, it was easy to forget that sometimes the most charming things people could do were the things they did completely on accident.
“Edward Elric, you are extraordinary.”
Ed wrinkled his brow, surprised.
“Well, yeah, 'course I am. But I didn't do anything particularly amazing just then, did I?”
“Not anything unusual, no,” replied Roy, and sat back down in his armchair. “So, small talk.”
*
The restaurant was probably nicer than either Roy or Ed had strictly dressed for. Significantly out-dressing one’s date was a major faux pas, so he had opted to leave the suit jacket behind in favor of his military trench over a white button-up shirt. Edward, of course, didn't seem to notice being under-dressed at all - but then, of course he wouldn't.
Roy didn’t mind, either. He very much liked the way his date had dressed. He would like getting to take the man out of it even more.
“Wo-ow, this place is even ritzier than I thought,” Edward said, leaning back in his chair so that the back two legs supported all its weight. He tapped the table with his silver fork. His eyes roved across the ceiling, painted with images from the legend of the Seven Sisters in an excellent mimicry of the Xingian ink-brush style. “The hell'd you have to do to get a reservation here for the same day you called?” he asked, sounding suitably impressed.
“Trade secret,” Roy said, taking a sip of his wine.
“You've fucked the hostess, haven't you,” Ed said.
“That would be telling, wouldn't it?”
Ed snorted. “Well, I guess I'm not surprised. I'd almost be more surprised if you hadn't.”
Roy raised an eyebrow.
“Just how many women do you think I've been with, Fullmetal?” he asked, before he could stop himself. “Sorry. I mean, Edward.” The blonde chose to ignore that last part.
“To listen to headquarters talk, you'd think it was half the women in the city,” Ed drawled, and let the front two legs of his chair slam back onto the floor. A few other diners looked over at the noise, but at least his seat was stable on the floor again.
“With all the damage control I've been doing for you over the years, I don't know where I would have found the time,” Roy said, silkily. The younger man twitched.
“You calling me out of control?” he asked. The timely arrival of the waiter saved Roy from having to reply immediately: she set down a plate in front of Roy and three in front of Ed.
“No,” he said, once the woman had left, “I'm not calling you out of control. I am calling you belligerent, though.” Roy swirled his wine around in its glass and watched his date intently. “Why are you being so aggressive this evening?” he asked. Ed flinched.
“What d’you mean, aggressive? I'm not being aggressive,” he snarled, and shoveled another mess of drunken noodles into his mouth.
Roy let out a deep breath and began to toy with his seared tuna.
“Yes you are, Ed. Listen to yourself. You have taken almost everything I have said since you came in my door as an attack, and responded the same way.” He paused, watching Edward hunch over his side of the table. “What are you trying to prove?” Roy had a fair idea, but there was always the possibility that he was wrong. Even if he wasn't, the key would be getting Ed himself to admit it.
“Not tryin’ to prove anything,” he said, taking another huge bite.
“I see. This is still about our previous activities, isn't it?”
Edward choked on his noodles, which Roy took to be as good as an answer.
“I don't see how this will ever be anything but uncomfortable for you if you are still ashamed of what we're doing.”
“Not ashamed,” the other man muttered.
“Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake. You're just looking for a fight with me for no particular reason,” Roy said, leaning forward to put an elbow on the table.
“Well, yeah. That's what you're always doing.”
If Roy could have leapt over to the other side of the table and calmly strangled the younger man without starting a scene then by god he would have. He determinedly kept his cool.
“I think I understand what's going on here, Edward, and if it is what I think it is, then I would like to get it out of the way once and for all. Several things.” He held up a finger to illustrate. “First, you and I both know that you are a very aggressive person, and a dominant one. You're strong and proud of it. Now, on the other hand, you get turned on by having all that strength and power taken away, by being put in a situation where you're completely helpless.”
Ed's eyes went round and wide and he froze in place with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Roy plunged onward before the other could respond.
“These two images of yourself don't mesh well - at least, they don't for you. You're still afraid I'll think that you want to be submissive to me in day to day life. Believe me, I am under no such impression,” he said with a dry chuckle. “Second.” He held up another finger. “You're afraid that you might actually want to be submissive to me in the normal world, and you don't like that. That scares you. Thirdly, you like even less the idea of having to depend on anyone but yourself for something you want. So, you're picking fights with me, like a dog trying to prove he's alpha male. How close am I?”
Ed opened his mouth like he expected something to come out, but nothing did. Roy took a bite of his own food. After a dragging silence, Edward managed to speak.
“...How did you know all of that?”
“Careful observation followed by analysis,” Roy replied. “You're a man of science, I'm sure you understand. I'd like to add a few things, though, in hopes that maybe they'll make some of this easier for you to swallow: what you like in bed - or on the couch, or the floor, or wherever else you're engaging in play,” he added, savoring the blush that had spread across Ed's face, “has nothing to do with the person you are outside of the bedroom. It's all a fantasy. You shouldn't worry about what it means: the only thing being tied up in the bedroom says about you is that you like being tied up in the bedroom. Are we clear there?”
The blonde just stared.
“Are you hearing what I'm saying? Am I talking to a wall?”
“I hear you,” Ed replied, and to Roy's relief he didn't sound like he was going to start yelling. A good start.
“Good. As for my last point - well, all I can say is that it's not so bad to need someone else for something every so often. You need your friend Miss Rockbell to fix your automail when it gets broken. You need conductors to run the trains you use to get from place to place. You need your brother to properly function in society. Don't bother denying it, you know it's true,” Roy added, pleasantly. “And by definition, you always need someone else for sex. This isn't terribly different.”
He didn't think he had ever seen Edward speechless for such an extended period.
“Now, the real question is what to do about it. What do you think?”
The blonde's shoulders sunk, like the air had been let out of him. “I don't know,” said Edward, quietly. “I'm just - it’s - yeah. Sorry I've been such a dick.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Dunno why you put up with it.”
“Oh I don't know, Edward. You have your charms,” Roy said, directing a smile at the other man. “And thankfully, I think I have an idea as to what would help.”
Ed didn't seem convinced.
“Yeah?”
“Well, to begin with...” Roy took a deep breath, gathering his own willpower. “Would it be helpful to know that there is no part of me that even wants you to submit to me in real life? Not here, or in the office, or anywhere else.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw the waitress scurry away from the table looking mortified, which amused him but hardly bothered him.
“Part of the reason that I find this arrangement to be so appealing is because you are so aggressive and stubborn, such a willful person. I would appreciate it if you didn't repeat this or throw it back in my face, but you're much stronger than I am, one of the strongest people I've ever met.” Roy felt sure that his face betrayed more than he had any interest in showing. It occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't have asked for that third glass of wine. “Don't let it go to your head. In any case,” he continued, trying to school his expression back to careful blankness, “the whole thing is so very arousing because I'm bending such a strong person to my will, and that makes me feel powerful. You hit on it before, but I’ll say it again: that is something I need, at least as much as you need to feel that pain. Your whims determine what I do. It is, in the end, the submissive person who truly has all the power.”
He paused to take a breath.
“In short, Ed” -- the other man looked like he was about to interrupt with fury, and Roy corrected course mid-stream “-- no, in conclusion, I apologize for my poor choice of words -- I don't want you to be someone who squeaks when I say 'hello.' If I were looking for someone shy and dependent, there are thousands of people across Central who I could have chosen. I didn’t.”
He let that resonate for a moment.
“So,” Edward began, slowly, sitting up a bit in his chair. “What do you want from me?” Slow strains of Xingian music drifted around them, accented by the murmur of genteel dinner conversation.
“I want to have a nice meal, and a pleasant conversation, and maybe if we don't tear each other’s throats out, we can do it again on Friday.”
Ed sat and seemed to think about this for a moment.
“Yeah, okay.” A pause. “I think... I'd like that, actually. But, uh -- did you mean what you said, about me being strong, and stuff?” he asked, perched halfway between hopeful and embarrassed.
“I thought I asked you not to repeat that,” Roy said, and finally took a bite of his seared tuna. A bit cold by now, but still well worth the price. “But regardless, yes. And I’d like to add that you really do have an incredible pain tolerance.”
A grin crept across Ed's face like fire across paper.
“I'll keep it just between you and me,” he said, in a way that made it obvious he was lying. “You know, that's about four or five times you've complimented me in the past couple of hours. I must be goin' for some kind of record,” he said, around a cheek-full of steak. His first plate of noodles lay empty in front of him, and he had made quite the dent in his second one. Roy wondered when the younger man had had a chance to eat any of it. “I must be doing something right,” he said, expression bright and sharp and lovely.
“With every word you say, the prospect of ever getting more is drifting even further out of your reach,” the general said, without any bite to it, just to test the waters.
“Don't you bring my height into this,” Ed replied, not sounding too terribly perturbed, much to Roy's relief.
“What, was that too low a blow?” Roy asked, propping his chin up on his folded hands and smirking.
“One more comment and I'm taking back all of the nice things I ever said about you.”
“You've said nice things about me? Why, Edward, I'm touched.”
Ed stabbed his chopsticks in Roy's direction, cutting the air.
“You're a bastard, you know that?”
Roy smiled. “So I've been told.”
*
On to Part 2, because the word count for this chapter was Too Damn High
Chapter: Chapter 4/9?
Word count: About... 25-30,000 so far?
Series: 2003 anime... sort of. Assuming a slightly alternate ending.
Characters: Roy Mustang, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric
Rating: M. Mature. Explicit. NC-17. Porn.
Warnings: Serious kinkiness. Pain play, whipping, dominance/submission, bondage. Oh, and a profusion of cursing, though that's going to be the least of your worries!
Summary: Just because you want something doesn't mean it's easy to let yourself have it. Relationships are hard enough even when they're totally normal - but Roy and Ed seem determined to make theirs as not-normal as it can get.
BDSM porn with a plot. Or plot with overwhelming amounts of porn. Pick one.
Notes: A totally unofficial (and much longer) sequel to Cryogenia's wonderful "Ties that Bind." If you haven't read it, go read it here!
This chapter: Our heroes banter more! Edward gets his shit together, or doesn't, as the case may be! Roy wonders what the hell he's gotten himself into! The two together make the best kind of disaster! And yes, hot man-on-man action. All this and more in today's installment of our BDSM love story!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
*
It took only about a week for the military bureaucracy to fully negotiate the Elrics' contracts and have them on the first assignment -- a sign of just how desperate the military was for alchemists with civilian skills, though no-one would admit it. It took Roy and Ed about only about three days of working near each other to get in their first major fight, a sign of -- well, he hadn't quite sussed that out yet, though he was doing his honest-to-god best.
“Are you trying to insult us?” Ed snapped, slamming his hands down on the desk and glaring at Roy with a fire in his eyes like he used to, once upon a time. Alphonse stood beside him with his hands folded in front of him and stiff shoulders, managing to look somehow both resigned and peeved at once. “I thought it was bad the last time I did shit for you sons of bitches, but this is another level! Like hell I'm gonna waltz around and do this kinda work for you. We're the fucking Elric brothers. We could kick all your asses if we fucking wanted! We don't gotta do your dirty work if we don't want to.”
Funny how this particular genius's ability to use proper grammar dropped to a grade-schooler's level when he got angry, though a grade-schooler with the filthiest mouth Roy had ever heard.
“You are a military contractor,” the general said, voice edged in amusement combined with more than a sprinkling of irritation. “Dirty work is in the job description. It's written in to your contract, actually,” Roy said, finally allowing himself his first knifing smirk. “Page five, halfway down: 'You are our bitch.' Didn't you notice?”
Edward snarled like a wild thing.
“You bastard, I'm not anybody's --”
“Brother, calm down!” Alphonse shot out, interrupting Ed's burgeoning tirade. “And shame on you too, Colonel, for encouraging him like this.”
Both men looked appropriately chastised. Sometimes Roy very much missed the half-shy, awkward eleven-year-old he had met such a long time ago -- that younger Alphonse had been far too polite to ever tell his commanding officer off.
This situation was crucially different than it had been back then, however. He had never been Alphonse’s superior, of course, but now he had no official jurisdiction whatsoever over either of them.
“Official,” being of course, the key word. The Elrics were hardly stupid, and the fact that they had officially been assigned to work with Lieutenant Burne from Resources did little to hide the fact that Roy had more than a casual hand in their affairs.
“My apologies, Alphonse,” Roy found himself saying.
“Yeah, sorry,” Ed muttered, standing up from where he had been bent over the table and running a hand through his bangs. He gave the general another glare, though with not half the intensity. “But seriously, Mustang. Sewer work? Really?” Roy raised a perfect eyebrow.
“Were you expecting something more glamorous?” the older man asked, putting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. “If that's what you're looking for, you should look elsewhere for gainful employment. The truth is that someone has to design and implement a new plumbing system for Central headquarters. That is hardly the specialty of any of the State Alchemists. If you decide not to do it, we will be forced to either hire an engineer and a construction crew, or an engineer and a set of alchemists to do the actual constructing. On the other hand, either of you two could probably design a functional plan in your heads right now, and be done putting it together before dinnertime.” Ed shifted, frowning. “You should be honored, Fullmetal. I recommended you to do something I thought that no one in the military could do.”
“First of all, don't call me that. That's not my name anymore. Second, I knew you had a hand in this crap. You were feeding me all those pretty words about how we're not actually working together and you’re not my superior officer and you couldn’t order me around even if you wanted to or whatever the fuck you were saying but it's not really different than it was before, is it?” Roy had a feeling that the other man's dark glare had to do with more than just his painfully plebeian assignment. “Come on, Al, let's go,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the door.
“Oh no, Brother. You can go home if you want -- maybe you should, if you're going to be such an infant -- but I am going to stay and do the job that I agreed to do and that I am getting paid for. You can do whatever you like,” said Al, his genuinely pleasant smile doing nothing whatsoever to disguise the tone of threat.
The general wondered briefly where the Edward he had conversed with at that last dinner had gone. Ed was nothing if not extreme in his emotions, but the range of them over the past several weeks had been nothing short of astonishing.
Roy was a smart man. He could put two and two together to make four, and he could easily connect angry office Edward to awkward bedroom Edward and painfully forward, sexually confident Edward to make something else entirely.
It didn't take a genius to see that the man was scared.
That made too much sense. The hot-then-cold, supremely volatile attitude would be Ed’s natural reaction to the unfamiliar: Edward Elric met anything that frightened him with either a blinding anger or a headlong charge, full of grace and more than a healthy dose of cockiness. But Roy knew from experience that a deep self-doubt suffused the other man's arrogance - no, confidence, because to be fair, Ed's self-assurance was far more often justified than not. Even when it had been at its worst, Roy had only ever been allowed to see this doubt in glimpses, but over the years those flashes became less and less frequent. Such doubt was not, perhaps, so central to Edward as it once had been, the older man knew that it had never quite disappeared, like a pair of gloves he had begun to outgrow but hadn't quite gotten around to throwing away.
“Your brother's right, Edward. Be reasonable. I'm only trying to help you,” the general said, remembering an instant too late just how childish Ed was acting at that moment, and remembered also how a young Fullmetal had once reacted to the idea of one Colonel Mustang helping him in any way.
“Help?! The fuck do you think you're saying?” Edward snarled. Roy may have gotten a sense of the cause of all that anger, but that didn’t mean that the result was any less frustrating. “You've been using us since -- wha, hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?” he squawked, as Alphonse grabbed Ed by the waist and hauled his older brother over his shoulder. “The fuck, Al?! Put me down!”
“Sorry about this, General,” Alphonse said, with a tiny bow towards the general as his brother flailed about, an exercise in futility. Al may not have been a suit of armor anymore but apparently he was still quite strong when he had a mind to be. “I'll talk some sense into him.”
“Thank you, Alphonse,” the older man said, not bothering to hide his relief. Al turned and marched out the door, taking his squalling brother out with him. Roy felt a smile break into his expression, though for what reason, exactly, he couldn't be sure.
The next day, Central Headquarters had a new, better designed plumbing system that was no longer leaking into the third floor women's bathroom, and Roy had a red-faced Fullmetal back in his office. The blonde made no attempt to hide his emotions, which was unreasonably charming. This time, he stood with elbows locked and shoulders hunched in front of the general's desk, mouth wrinkled down into a scowl, as if he blamed Roy for his embarrassment.
Roy smiled, leaning back in his chair
“What brings you here today, Fullmetal?” he asked, pleasantly. “Back for more of the usual?”
Ed snorted.
“No, you bastard,” he muttered, eyes on the floor. “I came to apologize,” he said, then stalked over to the office couch and flopped down on it, arranging himself so that he took up as much of the furniture as he could manage. He looked so much like he used to, in the office in East City, that Roy was inexplicably glad that he had kept the old setup.
“Oh? I had no idea you even knew the word,” Roy said, smirking more out of habit than anything else.
“Save it, Colonel. General. Shit, whatever.” He could hear the deep breath Ed took across the room. “I'm not here to fight with you. Al said he thinks he knows what you've been doing, and he convinced me. He says you’ve been getting us jobs that aren't dangerous or physically demanding, for his sake, what with his new body and all.”
Not just for Al's sake, Roy added silently, but decided not to interrupt.
“And, y'know, jobs where nobody's gonna ask us to do anything that’s wrong, or make us leave Central.” He slung his right arm over the edge of the couch and stared at the door he came in through. Roy allowed himself a quiet laugh.
“I must confess that my reasons for the last one may not have been entirely altruistic,” he said, carefully.
Ed's eyes shot over to the other man in half a second.
“Yeah?”
Roy sized the blonde up carefully: Ed was unique in his ability to look tense, even when slouching, boneless, and sprawled across three quarters of a couch plus half of one coffee table.
“Well, Edward. I have very much enjoyed our arrangement. I also enjoy your and your brother's company. Please don't take it any way other than the way it was meant if I say that I don't want to let you go at such a... critical time.”
Edward didn't respond, just stared at him. Roy wished he could know whether the blank look on his face covered up a flurry of thoughts or whether it was just utter confusion. One moment dragged into several, and after probably thirty seconds even Roy had to suppress the urge to squirm.
“Edward? Something the matter?”
“Critical... how?” the blonde finally asked, a faint edge of suspicion to his voice. Roy winced, wondering if he deserved such mistrust. He probably did.
“I just mean that we're trying to figure out what this” - he made a vague inclusive gesture -- “is, and what it's going to be. I imagine that you wouldn’t much want to leave right now, either.”
“Well, no, but that's not the point. In any case, I dunno what you’re tryin’ to figure out. I think you and I're pretty clear.”
Roy's eyebrows shot up.
“Are we? I must say, Fullmetal, for once you seem to be several steps ahead of me. Please, enlighten me.”
“Don't make fun of me --”
“I'm not,” Roy interrupted, then sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples slowly. “I just don't know what you mean.”
Edward seemed to give this some thought, then said:
“Well, it's pretty obvious what you think of this, isn't it? You're still bossing me around, and you promised you wouldn't. You said that what we did in -- well -- I mean.” Roy didn't have to open his eyes again to know that the other man was probably blushing hard. “You promised that what we did those times wouldn't affect anything. You haven't kept up your promise. I dunno why you expect me not to be angry when you're still acting like you've got me and Al singin' on cue.”
Roy's laugh sounded tired, even to his own ears. Edward was going to be the death of him, and probably sooner rather than later.
“Edward, I haven’t changed anything at all. We've acted like this towards each other for, what is it, six years now? I tease, you explode, everybody gets back to their day. What exactly were you expecting?”
“I dunno,” Ed said, shrugging as best as he could with one arm still slung over the back of the couch. “I guess I just hoped that you would start treating me like an adult, like someone worth five minutes of your time.” Everything that went unsaid in that sentence made Roy hurt. “I mean, I'd want you to take me seriously anyway, even if we weren't -- you know,” he added, this time suppressing any outward sign of embarrassment. “I'm eighteen now. Not a kid. I haven't been for a long time, anyway.”
He said it as if Roy weren't painfully aware of that fact. He ran words over in his mind, selecting each one with care.
“If I made you feel like you aren't valued, then I am sorry. That was never my intention. I just enjoy our verbal sparring, that's all. I said I wasn't going to change how I treated you just because of our private activities, and I haven’t.”
Edward watched him for a moment, considering. After a moment he stood up, then stretched his arms above his head, rocking from heel to toe and back.
“Alright,” he said as he let his arms fall to his sides. “That's cool. Whatever. I'll see you later.” With that, he turned and stalked towards the door.
Well, shit. Roy had no idea how his constant attempts to say the right thing kept ending up so - so wrong. Edward Elric was probably the most complicated person that he had ever had the beautiful misfortune to become involved with.
“Wait, Ed,” Roy said, on instinct. An intense relief cut him as the man stopped in his tracks, though he didn't turn back around. “I'm sorry. Allow me to take you to dinner to make up for it.”
The words hung suspended between them for a moment. Edward turned back, excruciatingly slowly.
“I'm sorry, what?”
“Dinner?” Roy's mouth repeated, automatic practices taking over even as he hoped he was judging the situation right. “I would be honored if -”
“Spare me your souped-up Casanova bullshit,” Ed spat, and Roy winced internally. Automatic mode clearly hadn't helped. “You can't pull one over on me with that crap.”
“I would never hope to try to pull anything over on you. But, I don't see how being nice to a prospective date hurts anything,” he said. Edward blushed down to his roots.
“You don't need to be nice to me, General. I'm not a delicate little flower.”
“Don't tease you, then don't be nice to you?” Roy asked, one eyebrow up. “Forgive me if I'm confused, you're sending very mixed signals. You're going to have to make up your mind.”
Edward just stood, frozen, staring at the older man in bafflement.
“...You meant it, then?”
“I never would have asked if I didn't.”
Another pause.
“And you'd be paying?” he finally asked, cautiously. The general smiled -- of course that would be Ed's primary concern.
“Naturally. I was the one who asked, after all.”
“Well.” He paused. “My policy is to never turn down a free meal,” he said, like a concession.
Roy found that response so amusing, so utterly Edward, that he had to suppress a laugh. Somehow he suspected that the younger man wouldn't appreciate it.
“Wonderful. Meet me at my place at seven? Oh, and dress at least somewhat nicely,” he said, straightening up in his chair.
“I'll put on whatever the fuck I want to, Mustang,” he growled as he turned back towards the door and stomped out. Roy watched the other man's rigid, retreating back, and smiled.
Such a horrible idea probably shouldn’t make him so happy.
*
“So, I heard you're dating the General now, Brother. That's nice.”
“Shut up, Al.”
“Do you want me to help you pick out something to wear for tonight?”
“Shut UP, Al!”
*
The door glared at Roy from the front entryway no matter how steadfastly he tried to ignore it. His eyes kept flickering up off of the faded, handwritten pages of his book, and he was certain he had read this paragraph before - possibly multiple times. Even if he had, he had to do it again, because none of it had lodged anywhere in his brain and he was determined to read until at least some of it stuck.
His task was not helped by the fact that he had unwisely chosen to sit in his living-room armchair, the one he would now forever associate with Edward, naked between Roy's knees, unbound hair swinging back and forth as his head bobbed up and down on Roy's cock...
The man took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and refocused, pushing those images away forcefully. He stared at the page in front of him. The book stared back. Roy could have sworn it looked smug.
Roy slammed the book shut and reached for his brandy. It occurred to him that among the many other distinctions it could claim, this evening would mark the first time that he had ever felt the need to study up in preparation for a date -- at least academically. If he did any kind of research before a normal date, it tended to involve candy and flowers and a certain lady’s preferences with regards to either. Somehow he didn't think that Ed would appreciate either.
The second strangest thing about the evening was how nervous he felt. Roy hadn't felt this out of his depth romantically since he had been a teenager himself. He wasn’t entirely unused to romancing men, but trying it with Edward Elric was a different matter in every conceivable way. In fact, Roy’s brain couldn’t quite put “Edward” and “romance” together in the same sentence without utterly shutting down.
In short, Roy was having some major second thoughts. His cock wasn't, though. No - at least one part of his anatomy was completely and utterly certain.
Nothing could quell the sudden panic, however, when a voice interrupted his silent musings.
“Whatcha reading there?” it said, sounding entirely too familiar. Roy sat up like a shot, nearly dropping his book, to see Ed leaning on the frame of the door into the entry hallway. He put the text down on the side-table carefully, to avoid any more such incidents.
“Ah, Fullmetal. I see you didn't bother to knock,” the general said, standing up out of habit, both to be polite and because he didn't want to think about the last time Edward had seen him in that chair. He tried to avoid going on dates with raging hard-ons.
“Well, I did, but you didn't answer,” replied Ed, hands shoved into his pockets, and stepped into the living room. Roy couldn't help but notice how the orange light from the fireplace caught in the younger man's loose hair, or how he had left the top three -- three -- buttons of his shirt undone, baring the top of his chest to Roy’s appreciative eyes. His black pants were so neatly pressed -- if Roy's eyes did not deceive him, there were even creases down the front of the legs -- that it couldn't possibly have been Ed's own work.
“Unless I'm losing my hearing, that can't possibly be true. I was listening quite intently for your arrival,” Roy said, enjoying the line of muscle that swept from Ed’s neck to his exposed clavicles.
“Okay, I lied,” the blonde said, quite unconcerned. “What’s the use of knocking if I know you’re just gonna let me in anyway?” He took a few steps into the living room, then plopped down on the couch he had so recently occupied in quite a different capacity. “Listening ‘intently,’ huh?” he asked after a moment, grin dangerous.
Roy decided not to respond to that last part.
“You seem not to have picked up on this, so I’ll fill you in: it’s not really considered polite to transmute people's doors open, as a rule.”
“Eh, you don't mind,” Ed replied, body relaxing into the couch, sharp smile never faltering. The man looked altogether much more confident than Roy had been expecting, much more purposeful and knowing. Immediately the older man regretted allowing the other to sit down on that couch at all.
“True enough. If I did, though, you wouldn't be sitting there as comfortable and burn-free as you are,” Roy said, amiably. “Please keep that in mind.” He paused, took a breath. “You're very well pressed, this evening. I don't think I really expected you to make any special effort.”
Ed made a face as he glanced down at his clothes.
“Al did it. He didn't really give me a choice in the matter.” He paused, awkward for only a moment. “Except the hair. The hair was my idea. But, y'know, Al can be really fuckin' persuasive when he wants to be. Which I guess is all the time,” he said. Roy smiled at the smooth change of subject, and decided to let it pass. “You know, he knew about this before I even got home? Fuckin' ambushed me at the fuckin' door.”
The older man laughed. Edward was the only person he knew who regularly used multiple-expletive sentences in casual conversation.
“I assume you mean our plans for tonight?” A nod. “Well, I'm not at all surprised. I believe we have established that Alphonse is much cleverer than you. I see a lot of myself in him, actually.” Roy cut off the indignant remark by saying, “You really do look extraordinary, though. You're going to turn heads tonight.”
Ed blushed to his toes and stared at the wall, one of his preferred defense mechanisms.
“You should wear your hair like that more often. It suits you very well,” the general said, a statement crafted with the express intention of causing the other man to redden further, and that had the added benefit of being true.
The other man did exactly as expected, except for one part. He flushed like he might die of embarrassment, then turned to Roy and said:
“You know, you're barkin' up the wrong tree if you're trying to use compliments to get into my pants. I don't work like that.”
Roy frowned briefly.
“There are several things I would like to say to that. First, why would you assume that my compliments are anything but entirely genuine? I've never given a compliment I didn't mean one hundred percent. To a date, in any case,” he corrected when Ed snorted. “Secondly, I thought that sex, eventually, was one of the points of the exercise?”
“What do you mean, 'exercise'?” Ed hissed. Roy sighed, wishing he'd had more brandy already so this part of the evening would be at least marginally less trying.
“Not 'exercise' as in something I'm forced to do, Edward. Exercise just as in 'action,' something new we're experimenting with,” he said, then stood up and walked over to the back of the living room, opening the glass-paneled door of his liquor cabinet to examine the contents. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Normally, you don't need alcohol to deal with something you're supposed to enjoy,” Edward said, every word accusing.
“That is categorically untrue,” Roy replied with a short laugh as he pulled his gold-label brandy off of its shelf. He eyed the level of the liquid with some regret - only about a third left, and he hadn't bought it that long ago. He sighed, and made a resolution not to have any more for the rest of the week. Assuming that this evening went well, he amended. “Also, I would appreciate it if you would try not to be so touchy. I am doing my best to make this a pleasant experience, but you are making it very difficult for me.”
Edward shot straight up off of the couch, eyes narrowed. In the light from the fire they almost glowed yellow, like a cat's.
“If I’m so much trouble for you then fine, I'll leave,” he spat, squaring his shoulders. “Forget about all of this,” he said, and stalked back over to the entry door. Roy poured brandy into a clean crystal glass, never looking up to watch the teen's angry fit.
Time for a different approach.
“Well, that would be a shame,” Roy said, tone light. “I did manage to get reservations at the Seven Sisters restaurant on the East Side.”
Edward froze for a second, halfway to the door. After a moment he twitched and swung back around to face the other man. He hunched his shoulders, tense, like he would spring in any direction at the slightest provocation. He stared at the general with a furrowed brow.
“The... the Seven Sisters? That Xingian place?”
Roy allowed himself a flicker of self-satisfaction. At least this one well-practiced skill translated perfectly to Edward.
“The reservations are for seven forty-five. Someone from the motor pool will be arriving to take us there at seven fifteen. In the meantime, why don't you sit down and have some of this brandy? It's quite good.”
“Isn't it all expensive and shit?” asked Ed, the wariness never quite fading.
“Well, yes, technically speaking, but so was the lock you transmuted open. I shudder to think what you might have transformed it into. At least you will only make my brandy disappear, and that is what it was intended for.”
He watched Fullmetal in silence for a moment. The younger man walked back into the room, looking calmer than he had moments ago but significantly less at ease than he had been just a short while before that. Amazing, Roy thought, and more than a bit sad, that a set of compliments could unsettle the blonde so easily, and so thoroughly.
Ed strode over to stand in front of Roy, plucked the glass from his hands, then turned back to sit down on the couch again. He took a sip and made an appreciative noise as the liquid slid down his throat.
When, exactly, had the man had become a connoisseur of fine spirits, able to appreciate the subtle wood-soaked bouquet of an aged brandy? So much of the man was still a mystery to him.
The blonde downed the whole glass in one long gulp. Roy actually felt himself twitch.
Ed looked up at him expectantly.
“So, small talk,” he said, throwing his arm over the back of the couch again. “Let's get at it.”
Ed looked at Roy in silence, and Roy looked back, a lightness bubbling up in his chest as a smile caught on his face. He moved to sit next to the other man, unable to hold back a laugh.
Sometimes, living and working among politicians and socialites, it was easy to forget that sometimes the most charming things people could do were the things they did completely on accident.
“Edward Elric, you are extraordinary.”
Ed wrinkled his brow, surprised.
“Well, yeah, 'course I am. But I didn't do anything particularly amazing just then, did I?”
“Not anything unusual, no,” replied Roy, and sat back down in his armchair. “So, small talk.”
*
The restaurant was probably nicer than either Roy or Ed had strictly dressed for. Significantly out-dressing one’s date was a major faux pas, so he had opted to leave the suit jacket behind in favor of his military trench over a white button-up shirt. Edward, of course, didn't seem to notice being under-dressed at all - but then, of course he wouldn't.
Roy didn’t mind, either. He very much liked the way his date had dressed. He would like getting to take the man out of it even more.
“Wo-ow, this place is even ritzier than I thought,” Edward said, leaning back in his chair so that the back two legs supported all its weight. He tapped the table with his silver fork. His eyes roved across the ceiling, painted with images from the legend of the Seven Sisters in an excellent mimicry of the Xingian ink-brush style. “The hell'd you have to do to get a reservation here for the same day you called?” he asked, sounding suitably impressed.
“Trade secret,” Roy said, taking a sip of his wine.
“You've fucked the hostess, haven't you,” Ed said.
“That would be telling, wouldn't it?”
Ed snorted. “Well, I guess I'm not surprised. I'd almost be more surprised if you hadn't.”
Roy raised an eyebrow.
“Just how many women do you think I've been with, Fullmetal?” he asked, before he could stop himself. “Sorry. I mean, Edward.” The blonde chose to ignore that last part.
“To listen to headquarters talk, you'd think it was half the women in the city,” Ed drawled, and let the front two legs of his chair slam back onto the floor. A few other diners looked over at the noise, but at least his seat was stable on the floor again.
“With all the damage control I've been doing for you over the years, I don't know where I would have found the time,” Roy said, silkily. The younger man twitched.
“You calling me out of control?” he asked. The timely arrival of the waiter saved Roy from having to reply immediately: she set down a plate in front of Roy and three in front of Ed.
“No,” he said, once the woman had left, “I'm not calling you out of control. I am calling you belligerent, though.” Roy swirled his wine around in its glass and watched his date intently. “Why are you being so aggressive this evening?” he asked. Ed flinched.
“What d’you mean, aggressive? I'm not being aggressive,” he snarled, and shoveled another mess of drunken noodles into his mouth.
Roy let out a deep breath and began to toy with his seared tuna.
“Yes you are, Ed. Listen to yourself. You have taken almost everything I have said since you came in my door as an attack, and responded the same way.” He paused, watching Edward hunch over his side of the table. “What are you trying to prove?” Roy had a fair idea, but there was always the possibility that he was wrong. Even if he wasn't, the key would be getting Ed himself to admit it.
“Not tryin’ to prove anything,” he said, taking another huge bite.
“I see. This is still about our previous activities, isn't it?”
Edward choked on his noodles, which Roy took to be as good as an answer.
“I don't see how this will ever be anything but uncomfortable for you if you are still ashamed of what we're doing.”
“Not ashamed,” the other man muttered.
“Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake. You're just looking for a fight with me for no particular reason,” Roy said, leaning forward to put an elbow on the table.
“Well, yeah. That's what you're always doing.”
If Roy could have leapt over to the other side of the table and calmly strangled the younger man without starting a scene then by god he would have. He determinedly kept his cool.
“I think I understand what's going on here, Edward, and if it is what I think it is, then I would like to get it out of the way once and for all. Several things.” He held up a finger to illustrate. “First, you and I both know that you are a very aggressive person, and a dominant one. You're strong and proud of it. Now, on the other hand, you get turned on by having all that strength and power taken away, by being put in a situation where you're completely helpless.”
Ed's eyes went round and wide and he froze in place with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Roy plunged onward before the other could respond.
“These two images of yourself don't mesh well - at least, they don't for you. You're still afraid I'll think that you want to be submissive to me in day to day life. Believe me, I am under no such impression,” he said with a dry chuckle. “Second.” He held up another finger. “You're afraid that you might actually want to be submissive to me in the normal world, and you don't like that. That scares you. Thirdly, you like even less the idea of having to depend on anyone but yourself for something you want. So, you're picking fights with me, like a dog trying to prove he's alpha male. How close am I?”
Ed opened his mouth like he expected something to come out, but nothing did. Roy took a bite of his own food. After a dragging silence, Edward managed to speak.
“...How did you know all of that?”
“Careful observation followed by analysis,” Roy replied. “You're a man of science, I'm sure you understand. I'd like to add a few things, though, in hopes that maybe they'll make some of this easier for you to swallow: what you like in bed - or on the couch, or the floor, or wherever else you're engaging in play,” he added, savoring the blush that had spread across Ed's face, “has nothing to do with the person you are outside of the bedroom. It's all a fantasy. You shouldn't worry about what it means: the only thing being tied up in the bedroom says about you is that you like being tied up in the bedroom. Are we clear there?”
The blonde just stared.
“Are you hearing what I'm saying? Am I talking to a wall?”
“I hear you,” Ed replied, and to Roy's relief he didn't sound like he was going to start yelling. A good start.
“Good. As for my last point - well, all I can say is that it's not so bad to need someone else for something every so often. You need your friend Miss Rockbell to fix your automail when it gets broken. You need conductors to run the trains you use to get from place to place. You need your brother to properly function in society. Don't bother denying it, you know it's true,” Roy added, pleasantly. “And by definition, you always need someone else for sex. This isn't terribly different.”
He didn't think he had ever seen Edward speechless for such an extended period.
“Now, the real question is what to do about it. What do you think?”
The blonde's shoulders sunk, like the air had been let out of him. “I don't know,” said Edward, quietly. “I'm just - it’s - yeah. Sorry I've been such a dick.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Dunno why you put up with it.”
“Oh I don't know, Edward. You have your charms,” Roy said, directing a smile at the other man. “And thankfully, I think I have an idea as to what would help.”
Ed didn't seem convinced.
“Yeah?”
“Well, to begin with...” Roy took a deep breath, gathering his own willpower. “Would it be helpful to know that there is no part of me that even wants you to submit to me in real life? Not here, or in the office, or anywhere else.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw the waitress scurry away from the table looking mortified, which amused him but hardly bothered him.
“Part of the reason that I find this arrangement to be so appealing is because you are so aggressive and stubborn, such a willful person. I would appreciate it if you didn't repeat this or throw it back in my face, but you're much stronger than I am, one of the strongest people I've ever met.” Roy felt sure that his face betrayed more than he had any interest in showing. It occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't have asked for that third glass of wine. “Don't let it go to your head. In any case,” he continued, trying to school his expression back to careful blankness, “the whole thing is so very arousing because I'm bending such a strong person to my will, and that makes me feel powerful. You hit on it before, but I’ll say it again: that is something I need, at least as much as you need to feel that pain. Your whims determine what I do. It is, in the end, the submissive person who truly has all the power.”
He paused to take a breath.
“In short, Ed” -- the other man looked like he was about to interrupt with fury, and Roy corrected course mid-stream “-- no, in conclusion, I apologize for my poor choice of words -- I don't want you to be someone who squeaks when I say 'hello.' If I were looking for someone shy and dependent, there are thousands of people across Central who I could have chosen. I didn’t.”
He let that resonate for a moment.
“So,” Edward began, slowly, sitting up a bit in his chair. “What do you want from me?” Slow strains of Xingian music drifted around them, accented by the murmur of genteel dinner conversation.
“I want to have a nice meal, and a pleasant conversation, and maybe if we don't tear each other’s throats out, we can do it again on Friday.”
Ed sat and seemed to think about this for a moment.
“Yeah, okay.” A pause. “I think... I'd like that, actually. But, uh -- did you mean what you said, about me being strong, and stuff?” he asked, perched halfway between hopeful and embarrassed.
“I thought I asked you not to repeat that,” Roy said, and finally took a bite of his seared tuna. A bit cold by now, but still well worth the price. “But regardless, yes. And I’d like to add that you really do have an incredible pain tolerance.”
A grin crept across Ed's face like fire across paper.
“I'll keep it just between you and me,” he said, in a way that made it obvious he was lying. “You know, that's about four or five times you've complimented me in the past couple of hours. I must be goin' for some kind of record,” he said, around a cheek-full of steak. His first plate of noodles lay empty in front of him, and he had made quite the dent in his second one. Roy wondered when the younger man had had a chance to eat any of it. “I must be doing something right,” he said, expression bright and sharp and lovely.
“With every word you say, the prospect of ever getting more is drifting even further out of your reach,” the general said, without any bite to it, just to test the waters.
“Don't you bring my height into this,” Ed replied, not sounding too terribly perturbed, much to Roy's relief.
“What, was that too low a blow?” Roy asked, propping his chin up on his folded hands and smirking.
“One more comment and I'm taking back all of the nice things I ever said about you.”
“You've said nice things about me? Why, Edward, I'm touched.”
Ed stabbed his chopsticks in Roy's direction, cutting the air.
“You're a bastard, you know that?”
Roy smiled. “So I've been told.”
*
On to Part 2, because the word count for this chapter was Too Damn High