In His Head
Title: In His Head
Verse: Further Interruptions
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Ed/Roy, Ed/Tate (OMC)
Summary: But he still couldn’t shut it off. This… thing… in his brain. It wasn’t because of Central and it wasn’t because he’d been face to face with the Bastard again. It was because his damn boyfriend wouldn’t leave it the hell alone.
Author's Note: Unbeta'd (the last few stories) because my beta is on vacation and deserves it :P This takes place after The Letter.
He couldn’t shut it off. He never could. Ed didn’t know how to be anything other than what he was. He couldn’t half-ass anything.
So he wanted this to work.
But he still couldn’t shut it off. This… thing… in his brain. It wasn’t because of Central and it wasn’t because he’d been face to face with the Bastard again. It was because his damn boyfriend wouldn’t leave it the hell alone.
He knew that Tate wanted to make his way through the ranks and Ed had spent too much time in the military not to know how it worked. You networked. You socialized. You found a way to play into the expectations of your superiors and you made yourself useful. If you were good, you made yourself indispensable.
So, Ed understood that Tate wanted to be introduced to Mustang, but Ed couldn’t do it. And he couldn’t really explain why. He wasn’t about to admit to being in a relationship with his superior. Or that it had ended so badly Ed had run to Aerugo to get away from it.
When Ed refused to introduce them Tate realized he had to try another tactic and he’d started asking Ed about the General. What was it like to work for him? Did he like his team to think for themselves or do what they were told? Did they try to butter him up? How did he drink his coffee? Did he like the theatre?
“I hear he’s a womanizer,” Tate had said, sitting up on his elbow, his eyes on the wall even though Ed was right beside him. “but do you think he’s into guys too?”
Ed bit his tongue because what would come out wasn’t good. He wanted to shout, ‘He likes to play with my hair, so now I can’t stand it when someone else touches it,’ or ‘He’s fucking in charge all the damn time, but he knows how to read you and before you an ask for a damn thing, he’s already given it to you with more than you could ever have thought to ask for!’ or ‘He fucked me up so damn bad I can’t let anyone else touch me like he did. I can’t give that much of myself to you, because he still has it!’
Instead, he sat up and pushed his legs over the edge of the bed.
“Not this again,” Tate said with a long-suffering sigh.
“Not what?”
“You’re rushing off because I mentioned him again.”
“Take the hint,” Ed said as he pulled his hair free from his ponytail and began to straighten his hair back to do it up again.
“Why does it bother you when I mention him?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t like it when my boyfriend talks about another man when we’re naked in bed together.”
Ed grabbed his underwear and pulled them on, followed quickly by his pants. His shirt was over on the dressed and Ed grabbed it, but before he could put it on, Tate’s hand was on his back.
“Ed, come on, don’t go.”
Ed closed his eyes as Tate pressed a kiss to his shoulder, but it was the wrong one, the flesh one.
He let out a deep breath and he could feel the phantom ghost of Roy’s lips against his automail shoulder. He could hear his voice whisper against Ed’s skin, ‘Come back to bed, Fullmetal,’; not a plea but a command that Ed had been helpless to disobey. And he’d been pulled back into strong arms and a soft mattress. He’d been opened, and filled, and fucked so damn good he’d fucking whited out. And when he’d come to, Roy spent the rest of the night worked him over twice as hard.
Fuck. He didn’t want to think about this now. Not here. But fucking Tate had to bring him up where Ed had been so damn careful not to let him intrude.
Because Tate would beg Ed into bed, but he would never command. He’d slyly tease his fingers across Ed’s ass but never actually ask to fuck him, even when it was obvious he wanted to. He’d beg for Ed’s cock and never push Ed for control.
No matter how much Tate wanted it. No matter how much Ed wanted him to.
But that was okay. Because Ed couldn’t let him take control anyway. He was still too fucked up. He couldn’t leave himself that open to someone else.
He felt Tate press closer to his back and arms slipped around his waist. Even if Tate didn’t push all his buttons, he knew plenty and he pressed his lips to the back of Ed’s neck and ran his fingers across the edge of his pants, as one hand settled on his hip and pulled Ed back to feel the hard length of him.
Only this time, Ed kept his eyes closed and remembered Roy against his back. Roy would have pushed him down until his chest was on the dresser and followed it with kisses to his neck and automail, with words of praise delivered in a voice made for bedroom confessions. He’d have pushed Ed’s pants down just far enough to be able to finger fuck him open and the thought of it was enough to make him moan.
Tate took it as a sign to continue and he felt his pants being undone even as he crossed his arms over the top of the dressed and leaned over to drop his head into the crook of one elbow. His pants fell to the floor and Nate pressed up behind him again, this time with his hand coming up to stroke Ed’s cock.
In his head though, he had Roy’s fingers inside him and Roy’s voice in his ear. And when he was loose enough, Roy replaced his fingers with his slicked cock and spouted obscenities about Ed’s ass. Then, he’d feel it. The tug at the back of his head, where his ponytail came undone and his hair fell around him. He’d feel one of Roy’s hands buried in it, and the man would press against his back even closer to nose around in his golden mane.
And Ed would beg to be fucked, because Roy would start messing with his hair and forget about the cock buried in his ass. Roy would laugh against his neck because he was a bastard and an idiot but Ed would put up with it because he fucking loved to feel it when Roy laughed, pressed up against his back and lips against his ear.
And then, Roy would start to really get into it, and he’d start with long, slow thrusts that eventually became hard and fast and never enough for either of them. He’d wrap his hand around Ed’s cock, press up against Ed’s back even harder to keep his balance since the bastard refused to let go of his hair, and he’d stroke Ed in time with each thrust.
And he’d be so damn close to the edge, and then he’d feel the way Roy fucked into him, one last time to bury himself as far as he could, and he’d bite Ed’s shoulder, just where the automail ended and the scar tissue was sensitive, and Ed would come all over his fist.
He barely stopped himself from shouting the bastard’s name to the room but bit his lip to catch it instead.
He felt tears in his eyes when he realized what he’d done.
Tate was still pressed against him, his cock hard and leaking against Ed’s back. He pressed another kiss to Ed’s flesh shoulder. “Come on, Ed. Let’s go back to bed.”
Tate took a few steps back and Ed heard him sit on the edge of the bed. No doubt, if he looked, he’d be spread out enticingly for Ed’s perusal. Ed didn’t look back though. Without a word, he pulled his pants back on and grabbed the rest of his clothes. He tossed on his shirt and jacket and didn’t bother with buttons just yet. His socks and boots were in the front room and he threw his socks into his jacket pocket and shoved his feet into his boots.
“Ed?”
Tate was in the room, but it was too late. Ed was out the door.
He didn’t run home because Alphonse was there and he didn’t want to have that conversation. Instead, he ran to the park close to their place. He fixed his shirt and pulled his jacket closed. He let out a shaky breath and tried to stop the racing of his heart.
So long as Mustang was in his head, he couldn’t take Tate back to his bed.
The problem was, even now, the rushing sound in his ears that was the blood pumping through his heart, still sounded like flames.