Full Metal Alchemist, "Next to Godliness," Jean/Roy, NC-17
In case anyone has ever wondered, I seriously adore alchemistjunkie. Like seriously-fangirl-to-pieces adore this girl, because she drags me out of depression and helps me write like whoa when I'm in too much of a snit to even admit I need to be dragged out of depression. This story was written with her on a prompt given ... what, dear, two days ago? And I had a hell of a fun time writing it.
It comes across in the same sort of tone as this story by tir_synni, which I re-read in the middle of writing this fic. If Ed can have a long day, so can Jean.
NC-17 because Roy and Jean are big boys who love each other like men, and if I get comments, I write more porn, so ... yeah. You know the drill.
Next to Godliness
by Mistr3ss Quickly
Roy was laughing into his cup of coffee, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom.
"Jean, what in the name of heaven are you doing?"
Sleep-tousled and naked save for his undershorts, Jean Havoc paused and looked up, blinking at his lover across the wide bed he and Roy had shared the night before. "Um ... just making the bed," he said.
"And why, pray-tell, are you making the bed?" said Roy, head cocked to the side.
Jean straightened. "Um ... I don't know. Is it bad to make the bed?"
Roy shrugged. "A touch unnecessary, I think," he said. "Riza's a stickler for neatness in the office, but she's yet to come to my apartment to see if I'm keeping things in order. I don't think she'll start now, just because I've got you here and may or may not infect you with my seeming love of disorder."
Jean chuckled and returned to making the bed, smoothing the comforter over the rise where the pillows lay, neat and side-by-side, not haphazardly tossed to the foot of the bed, where they'd been the night before, cast aside during the pair's frenzied lovemaking. Satisfied, he straightened and padded around the bed to the pile of blue cotton in the floor, sorting through it for his own jacket and trousers, laying Roy's uniform out neatly on the foot of the bed as he came across pieces of it.
"Never would have thought of you as a neat-freak, Jean," said Roy, watching him.
"I'm not a neat-freak," said Jean, frowning as the tails of his uniform tangled around his legs, twisting the waistband of his trousers when he tried to button them. He made a small sound in the back of his throat when Roy stepped into the room and handed him his cup of coffee, gently straightening the mess of cotton around his lover's waist.
"Not very good at dressing yourself either, are you?" said Roy.
Jean blushed. "Not when I'm being watched, no."
"New experience for you, then?" said Roy, one eyebrow arched over his eye.
"With a lover, yeah," said Jean. "I don't usually go this far with my dates, you know, and even if I do undress on a date, it's in private, and it's just so I can change into civilian clothes after work."
Roy hummed softly and took back his coffee, sipping it. "I'm your first, then?"
Jean shrugged. "Sure," he said. "You're my first."
That seemed to please Roy. He set his coffee cup down on the floor and pulled Jean close by the fabric of the man's soft black undershirt, kissing him deeply, his tongue pushing into Jean's mouth straight away, bitter and warm from his coffee. Jean sighed and slid one hand around Roy's back, holding him close, threading his fingers into Roy's silky hair, gently massaging his scalp. After a moment, he pulled away, chuckling softly when Roy nipped petulantly at his lower lip.
"We'll be late, Boss," he said. "Riza'll yell at me if we come in late together, she'll know I could've made you be on time, you know how she is."
Roy sighed. "Yes, unfortunately," he said. "Damned good woman to have working for me, but sometimes ..."
Jean laughed. "Wouldn't happen if you didn't slack, Boss," he said.
"If you say so, Jean," said Roy.
Jean nodded. "Come on, finish your coffee. We'll be on time if we leave now."
"Yes, sir," said Roy, offering Jean a cheeky grin. But he did as he'd been told, dressing quickly and draining his cup of coffee, smacking Jean's backside as they made their way out of the apartment to the Military car parked at the curb.
"I'll drop you off, then go return this to the motor pool," said Jean, sliding in behind the wheel. "Won't look so suspicious, that way."
Roy nodded, offering his lover a smirk when the man looked at him in the rearview window. "Very well," he said. "If that's what it takes to satisfy your paranoid nature, then I suppose there's no helping it."
Jean sighed and started the car. "You're welcome, Boss," he said. "Good to know I'm appreciated."
Roy simply laughed, in answer.
~♥~♥~♥~
"Second Lieutenant, you're late."
Jean wilted, closing the door to the office behind himself. The rainclouds that had hung threateningly over Central since the previous day had finally burst, drenching him in a steady downpour on his way to Headquarters from the motor pool, which not only made his uniform uncomfortable, but had also robbed him of the chance to smoke the cigarette he'd not smoked the night before out of consideration for both Roy's very clean-smelling apartment and for Roy's very happy warm weight resting on top of him, practically purring with the afterglow of sex. Miserable and soaked and itching for a cigarette, he turned to First Lieutenant Hawkeye with the best hang-dog expression he could muster, feeling just as utterly forlorn as he hoped he looked.
"It's okay, First Lieutenant," said Roy, appearing in the doorway, one hand idly scratching his hip through his uniform, right over the spot where Jean was fairly certain he'd given the man a lovebite or two, the night before. "He was running an errand for me, I knew he'd be reporting around now."
Hawkeye saluted him. "Sir," she said.
Jean gave his lover a grateful look, then slunk over to his seat at the table, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes as Breda handed him a stack of forms to fill out.
"You look like shit, Havo," he said, grinning.
"Thanks," said Jean, digging around in his pocket for a toothpick. "You always know how to make a guy feel better, you know?"
Breda's grin widened. "That's what I'm here for," he said. "Your mom told me to keep you on your toes, you know? 'S all I'm doing, really."
Jean snorted. "Sure," he said. "I buy that."
"What? She did," said Breda. "She said to keep her 'little boy in line and on his toes.'"
"You do that too well," said Jean, surrendering his search for a toothpick as a lost cause and picking up his pen instead.
"Do what?" said Breda.
"Fake my mom's voice," said Jean, filling in the wrong date at the top of the paper and sighing as he marked it out and wrote in the correct numbers. "I'm going to have to stop taking you home with me when we're on leave. She's rubbing off on you, I don't want to risk it going both ways."
Breda laughed. "Asshole," he said.
"Everybody's got one," said Jean. He filled in the rest of the form and set it on the woefully small stack of completed papers, then reached for another, his best friend's gaze resting on him. After two more forms, he sighed and glared at the man. "What?"
"Just thinking," said Breda with a shrug.
Jean arched an eyebrow at him and chewed the inside of his lip, curiosity warring with-and winning over-his craving for a cigarette. "That's unusual," he said.
Breda snorted. "Knew you were gonna say that," he said.
"So," said Jean, placing another completed form on the stack, "what're you thinking about?"
The grin that worked its way across Breda's face indicated clearly to Jean that he shouldn't have asked.
"Oh," said Breda, "I was just wondering how long you've been shacking up with the Colonel. Always knew you liked stallions more than mares, but ..." He whistled. "Never pictured you riding a Mustang."
Jean gaped at him. "Whoa, hold on a second, who said-"
"Lieutenant Havoc, I'd like a word with you please."
Breda snickered and patted his best friend on the back, grinning like a fool as Jean stumbled to his feet and hurried to his superior's office, a brilliant blush warming on his cheeks. When Roy frowned and asked quietly if Jean was coming down with a fever, Breda laughed out loud.
"Second Lieutenant, please do not be noisy in the office," said Hawkeye.
Breda cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am," he said.
But even so, he was grinning as he returned to work.
~♥~♥~♥~
The rest of the day passed sluggishly, the face of the big clock at the end of the room looking more and more like an evil smirk to Jean as it dragged closer and closer to the end of his shift. Where he had enjoyed his superior's request of his presence earlier, saving him from Breda's teasing, the deep kissing and heavy petting they'd somehow slipped into once the door was closed and Roy's gloves were off had left Jean hard and frustrated, an exceptionally unpleasant state in conjunction with his unsatisfied nicotine craving. Then, on their break for lunch, he'd slipped out to have a cigarette before joining Roy in the mess hall, but the man had cornered him and coaxed him into the men's room, and Jean had gone willingly-eagerly, even-only to be left unsatisfied, once again, when the bathroom door opened, sending Roy quickly up onto the seat of the toilet so as not to have two pairs of boots in one stall, Jean holding the man precariously balanced on the porcelain until the restroom door squeaked, signaling that they were alone once again.
No cigarette. No sex. Nothing but paperwork and Roy Mustang's dark, lustful eyes resting on him, every time Jean had to file something in the man's office or Roy came out to ask Lieutenant Hawkeye a question or get a fresh cup of coffee.
By the time his shift ended, Jean was positive there was no torture in the world that could possibly be more painful, unless he were to be tied to a chair and forced to watch his lover smoke a cigarette. But even then, he was certain he'd simply die, so it wouldn't last as long, at very least.
"Lieutenant, you're not looking well," said Roy, slapping Jean gently on the back as they walked to the motor pool together, that evening. "Are you sure you're not getting sick?"
Jean sighed. "I'm fine, sir," he said.
"You're certain?" said Roy, a smirk working its way across his features. He followed Jean around to their usual vehicle, sliding into the backseat, long legs crossed in front of him, his fingers laced together, resting on his knee.
"Positive, Boss," said Jean, settling behind the wheel and starting the car. He jumped at the sound of his lover's fingers snapping and glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening almost-painfully at the sight that greeted him.
Roy was coughing, obviously not accustomed to inhaling cigarette smoke, but the look in his eyes as he passed the lit cigarette up to Jean's trembling fingers told the younger man all too clearly that he knew just how happy he'd made his lover, how honestly desperate Jean had been for his fix, all day long. He watched Jean take a long drag on the cigarette, watched the man's eyes close in ecstasy as he exhaled, filling the car with smoke, and coughed quietly, rolling his window down.
"Thank you, Roy," Jean murmured, absently rolling his own window down as well. "You have no idea-well, no, you probably do have some idea, you lit this for me and all-how bad I needed this."
"Let's go back to my apartment, then, Jean," said Roy, settling comfortably back against the soft leather seat, "and see if we can't take care of your other cravings as well."
Jean's eyes widened, body tense as he scrambled to put the car in gear even before he'd finished his precious cigarette, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "yes, Boss," as he pulled out of the motor pool and into the rain, Roy laughing quietly in the backseat all the way home.
~♥~♥~♥~
Their uniforms, rain-damp and chill, lay scattered across the bedroom floor, their boots discarded messily in the hall, socks lying somewhere in between. More sensitive to cold than his lover, Roy had stretched out on the soft comforter on his bed and pulled his lover close, even before Jean had rid himself of his black undershirt, whining until Jean kissed him quiet, his larger body covering Roy's like a blanket, warming the man enough that Roy hadn't objected in the slightest when Jean sat back, breathlessly asking if they could make love, if Roy was up to it.
Roy was always up to it, but he simply smirked and turned around, presenting Jean with his backside, legs spread wide and hands gripping the headboard.
It was nice, after all, to hear Jean ask.
Other things Jean did were nice as well, the man's thick fingers sliding steadily in and out of Roy's body, gently massaging his slick, stretched entrance with small, circular rubs while he slicked his cock, groaning softly at the friction. Roy bowed his head and closed his eyes when he felt the hot, blunt head of his lover's erection rubbing where Jean's fingers had been, before; sucked in a sharp breath when Jean pushed forward, the head of his cock sinking completely into Roy's body before he paused, continuing only when Roy whined and rocked back a little, encouraging him to give him more, to fill him completely.
"Mmm, that's good Roy," Jean whispered, strong hands massaging Roy's hips, gripping them just enough to steady the man each time he slid carefully inside, pulling out just as slowly. "Are you ready? Can I move?"
Roy lifted his head and looked at his lover over his shoulder, leering as best he could, even with Jean rubbing in and out of his body in teasing little thrusts. "Yes," he growled, all witty comebacks dying at the sight of Jean's flushed cheeks, blue eyes bright with love and lust. "Yes, Jean, do it. Do it hard."
"Okay, Boss," said Jean, pulling out nearly all the way and thrusting back in, steady and hard and burning and perfect. "I can do that."
Roy cried out and arched, hands tightening on the headboard, body tightening around Jean's erection. Jean was definitely the best male partner he'd ever had, always gentle and careful and considerate, never too rough, yet never too cautious, never too gentle or slow. He knew how to stretch his lover properly, preparing Roy to take his impressive erection fully, yet without pain, but even still, he never lingered too long prior to pushing inside, never made Roy feel impatient, never made him beg, pausing just long enough for Roy to adjust, never so long that Roy felt bored or unbearably frustrated. Hands tight enough on Roy's hips to make the man feel secure, never hard enough to hurt, he held Roy aloft when Roy's knees slipped and slid over the soft comforter, the squishy pillows beneath, held Roy aloft when the man shuddered and cried out, arching his back in shameless pleasure as Jean rubbed his prostate with each thrust, over and over and over.
"Jean," he whispered, shoulders tight and head dropping, once again, his cock throbbing and leaking, neglected between his spread legs. "Jean please ... please, please, please, please ..."
Behind him, Jean groaned. "Yeah, Roy?"
"M-more," whispered Roy. "More, oh please, please more."
He didn't beg for anyone else. Honestly, though he would never admit it to anyone but himself, he'd never had a partner worth begging for, before Jean.
When Jean released his grip on Roy's hip, strong arm sliding around Roy's body, pulling the man flush against his strong, sweaty chest, Roy cried out again and wrapped his own hand around his erection, stroking furiously, managing only a few tugs before Jean brushed his hand away, one sharp thrust of his hips burying him as deeply in Roy's body as he could go, melting Roy's protests into a startled yelp, a throaty moan.
Arm tight around his lover's chest, Jean pounded his lover, stroking the man's cock hard and fast for the precious few moments before orgasm overwhelmed him, his entire body snapped tight, erection thrust deeply into Roy's body as he came, hips jerking with each pulse that shot from his cock, hot and throbbing and perfect, the relief so sharp it made him dizzy, clinging tightly to his lover.
"Roy," he murmured, when it was over, his body trembling a little, weak as a kitten even as he tightened his grip on Roy's chest and returned his attention to stroking the man. "Roy, that was ... that was amazing. I love you."
Roy gasped and bucked his hips, head falling back onto Jean's shoulder, exposing his throat for Jean's kisses, Jean's teasing licks, Jean's careful biting. Writhing and panting, hands kneading the thick muscles of Jean's thighs, he thrust wantonly into his lover's hand, brokenly begging and praising and gasping, stiffening with a shout when Jean pinched one of his nipples, semen flying from his cock in a messy, sticky arc, splattering his chest and belly, dripping down Jean's forearm, wet and warm.
"You," he gasped, squirming weakly under the near-ticklish touch of Jean's tongue against his throat, "you ... that was ... that ... Jean are you trying to kill me?"
He felt Jean stiffen behind him and laughed a little when the man guided him up, pulling his softening erection out with far more care than usual, so much so that Roy had to wiggle, just to get it done. Just as he'd expected, there was apprehension lighting the beautiful, wide blue eyes that met his when he turned, a noise of concern from Jean's throat when Roy kissed him softly on the lips.
"No, you didn't hurt me," he said, before Jean could ask. "It was good, Jean."
"Oh," said Jean, slumping a little. "thank God." He stroked one hand down Roy's side, cupped the man's backside gently and squeezed. "D'ya want to have a shower?"
Roy yawned and nodded. "Sure," he said, offering Jean a sleepy version of his usual leer. "Want to join me?"
Jean's eyes lit up with the same excitement Roy had seen in them when he'd offered the man a cigarette, just off shift. "Sure," he said, "if you want me to."
Roy chuckled and slid stiffly off of the bed, dragging Jean along by the wrist. "Of course I do," he said, leading the man into the bathroom at the opposite end of the room. "I'm afraid we've destroyed your work, though, Jean. And it looked so nice, too."
"Huh?" said Jean, head cocked to the side, watching Roy bend over, tantalizingly exposed as he reached for the showerknobs.
"The bed," said Roy, motioning with one hand while the other adjusted the water temperature. "It looked so nice this morning, made for the first time since I moved in, I believe, and we've gone and messed it up."
Jean poked his head out of the bathroom and blinked at the bed-which indeed looked like a war zone, once again, the comforter wrinkled and twisted, the pillows lying askew, half on top of one another-then sighed and returned to his lover's side.
"I can make it up again," he said.
Roy straightened and stepped into the shower, holding the curtain open in invitation to his lover. "Why bother?" he said. "It's been a long day. I'm sure you won't say no to another round, later on. Will you?"
The uncertainty in his eyes was slight, so much so that Jean would have missed it, had he not been paying attention. Cupping Roy's stubble-rough jaw in his palms, he bent and kissed the man, eyes closed against the warm shower-water dripping from his hair, Roy's smile warm against his lips.
"No, Sir," he said. "Definitely not."
"Good," said Roy, pulling away and tilting his head back, wetting his hair in the warm water. "And you'll make the bed when we've finished, I assume?"
Jean nodded. "Every morning, if I can get you out of bed early enough," he said.
"It's an order, then," said Roy.
"Yes, sir," said Jean.
~♥~♥~♥~
The bed was never left unmade again.
It comes across in the same sort of tone as this story by tir_synni, which I re-read in the middle of writing this fic. If Ed can have a long day, so can Jean.
NC-17 because Roy and Jean are big boys who love each other like men, and if I get comments, I write more porn, so ... yeah. You know the drill.
Next to Godliness
by Mistr3ss Quickly
Roy was laughing into his cup of coffee, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom.
"Jean, what in the name of heaven are you doing?"
Sleep-tousled and naked save for his undershorts, Jean Havoc paused and looked up, blinking at his lover across the wide bed he and Roy had shared the night before. "Um ... just making the bed," he said.
"And why, pray-tell, are you making the bed?" said Roy, head cocked to the side.
Jean straightened. "Um ... I don't know. Is it bad to make the bed?"
Roy shrugged. "A touch unnecessary, I think," he said. "Riza's a stickler for neatness in the office, but she's yet to come to my apartment to see if I'm keeping things in order. I don't think she'll start now, just because I've got you here and may or may not infect you with my seeming love of disorder."
Jean chuckled and returned to making the bed, smoothing the comforter over the rise where the pillows lay, neat and side-by-side, not haphazardly tossed to the foot of the bed, where they'd been the night before, cast aside during the pair's frenzied lovemaking. Satisfied, he straightened and padded around the bed to the pile of blue cotton in the floor, sorting through it for his own jacket and trousers, laying Roy's uniform out neatly on the foot of the bed as he came across pieces of it.
"Never would have thought of you as a neat-freak, Jean," said Roy, watching him.
"I'm not a neat-freak," said Jean, frowning as the tails of his uniform tangled around his legs, twisting the waistband of his trousers when he tried to button them. He made a small sound in the back of his throat when Roy stepped into the room and handed him his cup of coffee, gently straightening the mess of cotton around his lover's waist.
"Not very good at dressing yourself either, are you?" said Roy.
Jean blushed. "Not when I'm being watched, no."
"New experience for you, then?" said Roy, one eyebrow arched over his eye.
"With a lover, yeah," said Jean. "I don't usually go this far with my dates, you know, and even if I do undress on a date, it's in private, and it's just so I can change into civilian clothes after work."
Roy hummed softly and took back his coffee, sipping it. "I'm your first, then?"
Jean shrugged. "Sure," he said. "You're my first."
That seemed to please Roy. He set his coffee cup down on the floor and pulled Jean close by the fabric of the man's soft black undershirt, kissing him deeply, his tongue pushing into Jean's mouth straight away, bitter and warm from his coffee. Jean sighed and slid one hand around Roy's back, holding him close, threading his fingers into Roy's silky hair, gently massaging his scalp. After a moment, he pulled away, chuckling softly when Roy nipped petulantly at his lower lip.
"We'll be late, Boss," he said. "Riza'll yell at me if we come in late together, she'll know I could've made you be on time, you know how she is."
Roy sighed. "Yes, unfortunately," he said. "Damned good woman to have working for me, but sometimes ..."
Jean laughed. "Wouldn't happen if you didn't slack, Boss," he said.
"If you say so, Jean," said Roy.
Jean nodded. "Come on, finish your coffee. We'll be on time if we leave now."
"Yes, sir," said Roy, offering Jean a cheeky grin. But he did as he'd been told, dressing quickly and draining his cup of coffee, smacking Jean's backside as they made their way out of the apartment to the Military car parked at the curb.
"I'll drop you off, then go return this to the motor pool," said Jean, sliding in behind the wheel. "Won't look so suspicious, that way."
Roy nodded, offering his lover a smirk when the man looked at him in the rearview window. "Very well," he said. "If that's what it takes to satisfy your paranoid nature, then I suppose there's no helping it."
Jean sighed and started the car. "You're welcome, Boss," he said. "Good to know I'm appreciated."
Roy simply laughed, in answer.
~♥~♥~♥~
"Second Lieutenant, you're late."
Jean wilted, closing the door to the office behind himself. The rainclouds that had hung threateningly over Central since the previous day had finally burst, drenching him in a steady downpour on his way to Headquarters from the motor pool, which not only made his uniform uncomfortable, but had also robbed him of the chance to smoke the cigarette he'd not smoked the night before out of consideration for both Roy's very clean-smelling apartment and for Roy's very happy warm weight resting on top of him, practically purring with the afterglow of sex. Miserable and soaked and itching for a cigarette, he turned to First Lieutenant Hawkeye with the best hang-dog expression he could muster, feeling just as utterly forlorn as he hoped he looked.
"It's okay, First Lieutenant," said Roy, appearing in the doorway, one hand idly scratching his hip through his uniform, right over the spot where Jean was fairly certain he'd given the man a lovebite or two, the night before. "He was running an errand for me, I knew he'd be reporting around now."
Hawkeye saluted him. "Sir," she said.
Jean gave his lover a grateful look, then slunk over to his seat at the table, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes as Breda handed him a stack of forms to fill out.
"You look like shit, Havo," he said, grinning.
"Thanks," said Jean, digging around in his pocket for a toothpick. "You always know how to make a guy feel better, you know?"
Breda's grin widened. "That's what I'm here for," he said. "Your mom told me to keep you on your toes, you know? 'S all I'm doing, really."
Jean snorted. "Sure," he said. "I buy that."
"What? She did," said Breda. "She said to keep her 'little boy in line and on his toes.'"
"You do that too well," said Jean, surrendering his search for a toothpick as a lost cause and picking up his pen instead.
"Do what?" said Breda.
"Fake my mom's voice," said Jean, filling in the wrong date at the top of the paper and sighing as he marked it out and wrote in the correct numbers. "I'm going to have to stop taking you home with me when we're on leave. She's rubbing off on you, I don't want to risk it going both ways."
Breda laughed. "Asshole," he said.
"Everybody's got one," said Jean. He filled in the rest of the form and set it on the woefully small stack of completed papers, then reached for another, his best friend's gaze resting on him. After two more forms, he sighed and glared at the man. "What?"
"Just thinking," said Breda with a shrug.
Jean arched an eyebrow at him and chewed the inside of his lip, curiosity warring with-and winning over-his craving for a cigarette. "That's unusual," he said.
Breda snorted. "Knew you were gonna say that," he said.
"So," said Jean, placing another completed form on the stack, "what're you thinking about?"
The grin that worked its way across Breda's face indicated clearly to Jean that he shouldn't have asked.
"Oh," said Breda, "I was just wondering how long you've been shacking up with the Colonel. Always knew you liked stallions more than mares, but ..." He whistled. "Never pictured you riding a Mustang."
Jean gaped at him. "Whoa, hold on a second, who said-"
"Lieutenant Havoc, I'd like a word with you please."
Breda snickered and patted his best friend on the back, grinning like a fool as Jean stumbled to his feet and hurried to his superior's office, a brilliant blush warming on his cheeks. When Roy frowned and asked quietly if Jean was coming down with a fever, Breda laughed out loud.
"Second Lieutenant, please do not be noisy in the office," said Hawkeye.
Breda cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am," he said.
But even so, he was grinning as he returned to work.
~♥~♥~♥~
The rest of the day passed sluggishly, the face of the big clock at the end of the room looking more and more like an evil smirk to Jean as it dragged closer and closer to the end of his shift. Where he had enjoyed his superior's request of his presence earlier, saving him from Breda's teasing, the deep kissing and heavy petting they'd somehow slipped into once the door was closed and Roy's gloves were off had left Jean hard and frustrated, an exceptionally unpleasant state in conjunction with his unsatisfied nicotine craving. Then, on their break for lunch, he'd slipped out to have a cigarette before joining Roy in the mess hall, but the man had cornered him and coaxed him into the men's room, and Jean had gone willingly-eagerly, even-only to be left unsatisfied, once again, when the bathroom door opened, sending Roy quickly up onto the seat of the toilet so as not to have two pairs of boots in one stall, Jean holding the man precariously balanced on the porcelain until the restroom door squeaked, signaling that they were alone once again.
No cigarette. No sex. Nothing but paperwork and Roy Mustang's dark, lustful eyes resting on him, every time Jean had to file something in the man's office or Roy came out to ask Lieutenant Hawkeye a question or get a fresh cup of coffee.
By the time his shift ended, Jean was positive there was no torture in the world that could possibly be more painful, unless he were to be tied to a chair and forced to watch his lover smoke a cigarette. But even then, he was certain he'd simply die, so it wouldn't last as long, at very least.
"Lieutenant, you're not looking well," said Roy, slapping Jean gently on the back as they walked to the motor pool together, that evening. "Are you sure you're not getting sick?"
Jean sighed. "I'm fine, sir," he said.
"You're certain?" said Roy, a smirk working its way across his features. He followed Jean around to their usual vehicle, sliding into the backseat, long legs crossed in front of him, his fingers laced together, resting on his knee.
"Positive, Boss," said Jean, settling behind the wheel and starting the car. He jumped at the sound of his lover's fingers snapping and glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening almost-painfully at the sight that greeted him.
Roy was coughing, obviously not accustomed to inhaling cigarette smoke, but the look in his eyes as he passed the lit cigarette up to Jean's trembling fingers told the younger man all too clearly that he knew just how happy he'd made his lover, how honestly desperate Jean had been for his fix, all day long. He watched Jean take a long drag on the cigarette, watched the man's eyes close in ecstasy as he exhaled, filling the car with smoke, and coughed quietly, rolling his window down.
"Thank you, Roy," Jean murmured, absently rolling his own window down as well. "You have no idea-well, no, you probably do have some idea, you lit this for me and all-how bad I needed this."
"Let's go back to my apartment, then, Jean," said Roy, settling comfortably back against the soft leather seat, "and see if we can't take care of your other cravings as well."
Jean's eyes widened, body tense as he scrambled to put the car in gear even before he'd finished his precious cigarette, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "yes, Boss," as he pulled out of the motor pool and into the rain, Roy laughing quietly in the backseat all the way home.
~♥~♥~♥~
Their uniforms, rain-damp and chill, lay scattered across the bedroom floor, their boots discarded messily in the hall, socks lying somewhere in between. More sensitive to cold than his lover, Roy had stretched out on the soft comforter on his bed and pulled his lover close, even before Jean had rid himself of his black undershirt, whining until Jean kissed him quiet, his larger body covering Roy's like a blanket, warming the man enough that Roy hadn't objected in the slightest when Jean sat back, breathlessly asking if they could make love, if Roy was up to it.
Roy was always up to it, but he simply smirked and turned around, presenting Jean with his backside, legs spread wide and hands gripping the headboard.
It was nice, after all, to hear Jean ask.
Other things Jean did were nice as well, the man's thick fingers sliding steadily in and out of Roy's body, gently massaging his slick, stretched entrance with small, circular rubs while he slicked his cock, groaning softly at the friction. Roy bowed his head and closed his eyes when he felt the hot, blunt head of his lover's erection rubbing where Jean's fingers had been, before; sucked in a sharp breath when Jean pushed forward, the head of his cock sinking completely into Roy's body before he paused, continuing only when Roy whined and rocked back a little, encouraging him to give him more, to fill him completely.
"Mmm, that's good Roy," Jean whispered, strong hands massaging Roy's hips, gripping them just enough to steady the man each time he slid carefully inside, pulling out just as slowly. "Are you ready? Can I move?"
Roy lifted his head and looked at his lover over his shoulder, leering as best he could, even with Jean rubbing in and out of his body in teasing little thrusts. "Yes," he growled, all witty comebacks dying at the sight of Jean's flushed cheeks, blue eyes bright with love and lust. "Yes, Jean, do it. Do it hard."
"Okay, Boss," said Jean, pulling out nearly all the way and thrusting back in, steady and hard and burning and perfect. "I can do that."
Roy cried out and arched, hands tightening on the headboard, body tightening around Jean's erection. Jean was definitely the best male partner he'd ever had, always gentle and careful and considerate, never too rough, yet never too cautious, never too gentle or slow. He knew how to stretch his lover properly, preparing Roy to take his impressive erection fully, yet without pain, but even still, he never lingered too long prior to pushing inside, never made Roy feel impatient, never made him beg, pausing just long enough for Roy to adjust, never so long that Roy felt bored or unbearably frustrated. Hands tight enough on Roy's hips to make the man feel secure, never hard enough to hurt, he held Roy aloft when Roy's knees slipped and slid over the soft comforter, the squishy pillows beneath, held Roy aloft when the man shuddered and cried out, arching his back in shameless pleasure as Jean rubbed his prostate with each thrust, over and over and over.
"Jean," he whispered, shoulders tight and head dropping, once again, his cock throbbing and leaking, neglected between his spread legs. "Jean please ... please, please, please, please ..."
Behind him, Jean groaned. "Yeah, Roy?"
"M-more," whispered Roy. "More, oh please, please more."
He didn't beg for anyone else. Honestly, though he would never admit it to anyone but himself, he'd never had a partner worth begging for, before Jean.
When Jean released his grip on Roy's hip, strong arm sliding around Roy's body, pulling the man flush against his strong, sweaty chest, Roy cried out again and wrapped his own hand around his erection, stroking furiously, managing only a few tugs before Jean brushed his hand away, one sharp thrust of his hips burying him as deeply in Roy's body as he could go, melting Roy's protests into a startled yelp, a throaty moan.
Arm tight around his lover's chest, Jean pounded his lover, stroking the man's cock hard and fast for the precious few moments before orgasm overwhelmed him, his entire body snapped tight, erection thrust deeply into Roy's body as he came, hips jerking with each pulse that shot from his cock, hot and throbbing and perfect, the relief so sharp it made him dizzy, clinging tightly to his lover.
"Roy," he murmured, when it was over, his body trembling a little, weak as a kitten even as he tightened his grip on Roy's chest and returned his attention to stroking the man. "Roy, that was ... that was amazing. I love you."
Roy gasped and bucked his hips, head falling back onto Jean's shoulder, exposing his throat for Jean's kisses, Jean's teasing licks, Jean's careful biting. Writhing and panting, hands kneading the thick muscles of Jean's thighs, he thrust wantonly into his lover's hand, brokenly begging and praising and gasping, stiffening with a shout when Jean pinched one of his nipples, semen flying from his cock in a messy, sticky arc, splattering his chest and belly, dripping down Jean's forearm, wet and warm.
"You," he gasped, squirming weakly under the near-ticklish touch of Jean's tongue against his throat, "you ... that was ... that ... Jean are you trying to kill me?"
He felt Jean stiffen behind him and laughed a little when the man guided him up, pulling his softening erection out with far more care than usual, so much so that Roy had to wiggle, just to get it done. Just as he'd expected, there was apprehension lighting the beautiful, wide blue eyes that met his when he turned, a noise of concern from Jean's throat when Roy kissed him softly on the lips.
"No, you didn't hurt me," he said, before Jean could ask. "It was good, Jean."
"Oh," said Jean, slumping a little. "thank God." He stroked one hand down Roy's side, cupped the man's backside gently and squeezed. "D'ya want to have a shower?"
Roy yawned and nodded. "Sure," he said, offering Jean a sleepy version of his usual leer. "Want to join me?"
Jean's eyes lit up with the same excitement Roy had seen in them when he'd offered the man a cigarette, just off shift. "Sure," he said, "if you want me to."
Roy chuckled and slid stiffly off of the bed, dragging Jean along by the wrist. "Of course I do," he said, leading the man into the bathroom at the opposite end of the room. "I'm afraid we've destroyed your work, though, Jean. And it looked so nice, too."
"Huh?" said Jean, head cocked to the side, watching Roy bend over, tantalizingly exposed as he reached for the showerknobs.
"The bed," said Roy, motioning with one hand while the other adjusted the water temperature. "It looked so nice this morning, made for the first time since I moved in, I believe, and we've gone and messed it up."
Jean poked his head out of the bathroom and blinked at the bed-which indeed looked like a war zone, once again, the comforter wrinkled and twisted, the pillows lying askew, half on top of one another-then sighed and returned to his lover's side.
"I can make it up again," he said.
Roy straightened and stepped into the shower, holding the curtain open in invitation to his lover. "Why bother?" he said. "It's been a long day. I'm sure you won't say no to another round, later on. Will you?"
The uncertainty in his eyes was slight, so much so that Jean would have missed it, had he not been paying attention. Cupping Roy's stubble-rough jaw in his palms, he bent and kissed the man, eyes closed against the warm shower-water dripping from his hair, Roy's smile warm against his lips.
"No, Sir," he said. "Definitely not."
"Good," said Roy, pulling away and tilting his head back, wetting his hair in the warm water. "And you'll make the bed when we've finished, I assume?"
Jean nodded. "Every morning, if I can get you out of bed early enough," he said.
"It's an order, then," said Roy.
"Yes, sir," said Jean.
~♥~♥~♥~
The bed was never left unmade again.