Full Metal Alchemist, "Homecoming," Havoc/Roy, NC-17
For galuxkitty, lifeinahole27, and havocmangawip, whom I so cruelly tricked on April Fools' day, and to whom I promised fireplace!sex.
NC-17 for sex, sex, and more sex, with more plot than usual, but that's just because I was reading scribblemoose's Saint Beast stuff and its plot made me feel mediocre for writing nothing but mindless smut.
Homecoming
by Mistress Quickly
It wasn't a sentence, really, not something a criminal would be given, and for that, they all were grateful, but it was still bad, still taking away One of Their Own, and that loss, on top of all others, was excruciating. Colonel Roy Mustang accepted it with grace, bowing his head in respect to the brass, then draped his arm around Alphonse Elric, reassuring the boy as they left the courtroom that, despite the turn of events, they would still search for Edward.
On the last night before Private Roy Mustang left for the Northern Outpost, where he would spend three years serving alone, grace no longer mattered, stripped naked and trembling, holding his lover while the man held him and kissed him and cried like a little boy.
"It's okay Jean, shh," Roy whispered, his good eye closed as he kissed coarse blonde hair.
"I don't want you to go," Jean sobbed, shaking and clinging and hurting. "You belong here, Roy. Not there."
Roy shook his head. "I failed everyone-failed them-while I was here, Jean," he said. "There's nothing for me here that I won't have there."
He endured Jean's sobbing, held the man until sleep triumphed, then lay back and let him go.
~♥~♥~♥~
The first time Jean visited his lover in the Northern Outpost, it had been three months since the Court had stripped Roy of his rank and sent him North to serve, alone and away from his men.
He and First Lieutenant Breda sat on the lumpy sofa in Roy's tiny outpost shack, surrounded by the whine of the wind whistling around the eaves, the crackle and hiss of the warm fire. Silence had settled around them after the first two minutes of their visit, when Jean had drawn out a cigarette and, rather than pulling on one of his ignition gloves, Roy had offered the man a pack of matches and a quiet apology that he'd not done Alchemy since he'd lost his eye.
Jean put away his cigarette and grinned, lying that he was trying to quit smoking anyway, but the damage had already been done.
When a log in the tiny fire in the corner settled and popped, Jean decided that he'd had enough of silence and waiting, and shifted in his seat, elbowing Breda as he stifled his sigh of irritation. Heymans was a great friend and a loyal companion, but dense, as dependable in a fight as he was to be a total idiot under normal circumstances. Slow as he was on the uptake, Jean knew he could depend on his friend to remember their plan.
Breda's acting skills didn't disappoint him. The redhead stood and stretched, then exhaled loudly. "I'm going to go out and see if I can't make friends with the great outdoors," he said. Then he nodded to Roy and made his way out, pulling the door closed tightly behind him.
Jean was on his feet in a heartbeat, tugging Roy to him and kissing the man, brushing Roy's lips with the tip of his tongue until Roy opened for him and kissed back, warm and wet and familiar. When he felt the older man start to pull away, he pressed forward, wrapping his arms around Roy's shoulders and kissing more deeply, whimpering when Roy melted against him.
"Mmm," he moaned, pulling away when they were both out of breath and Roy was struggling enough for him to let go. "Missed you, Roy."
Roy swallowed hard. "Breda," he said, "will be back soon."
Jean snorted. "Like I'd bring someone up here with me who didn't know about us. He'll give us time, Roy." He saw the look in his lover's eye and laughed softly. "They all knew, Roy. Even Full Metal figured it out, and that kid wasn't much one for subtlety."
"Still," said Roy. "It's cold out there. What if he-"
"He won't," said Jean. "He told me I wasn't permitted to come out of this outpost until I'd fucked some sense into you or fucked your delusions of failure out of your system. Either way, he'll know if that's not happened if we go home without you and I go right back to moping around while you stay up here where you can't warm my bed at night." He stroked the tips of his fingers down his lover's cheek, leant close and kissed him softly on the lips. "We're all worried about you, Roy," he whispered. "Especially me. I miss you. Want you to come home. I can make that happen, you know. Just tell me to do it."
"I can't," said Roy, shaking his head, stiffening only a little when Jean drew him close, fingers splayed across his back, stroking him comfortingly through the thick fabric of his coat. "I failed, Jean. I promised that I'd save our country, that I'd save those boys, and ..."
"Stop it, Roy, shh, stop," said Jean, kissing his lover's hair, holding the man tightly. "No-one thinks you failed, never did. Just come home, Roy. Please, we all want you to come home."
"Jean," said Roy, forehead pressed to his lover's neck, face buried in the collar of the man's coat, "honestly, what would I do, were I to go back with you? Sit around the big table and gripe about doing paperwork? Compete with the other sergeants to see who can get the most pencils to stick in the ceiling tiles when my superiors aren't looking? Lounge across my superior's desk and steal his heart right out of his chest?"
Jean smiled and reached between them, tilting Roy's face up. "I am a colonel now, Roy," he said, gently. "A little fraternization would be wonderfully refreshing. Although-" he kissed Roy, deep and slow "-I trust you'll still bend me over the desk, right? Even if it is my desk, not yours? I have missed feeling you inside me." He sighed and rested his chin on Roy's head. "Nearly as much as I've missed feeling you beside me."
Roy sighed. "I've missed you, too," he said, softly. "But I'm sorry, Jean. I just can't."
Jean nodded and kissed him, then stepped back and let him go.
~♥~♥~♥~
"You know everyone's going to blame me," said Breda, plodding through the snow beside his heartbroken companion. "No-one's going to believe that a guy like you wouldn't be able to bring him home. They're all going to think it was my fault."
Jean shook his head. "They wouldn't want to see him like this," he said. "He'll come back when he's ready."
Breda sighed. "And you'll be waiting," he said. "You're a good man, Jean."
"Thanks," said Jean.
~♥~♥~♥~
The second time Jean visited his lover in the Northern Outpost, two months had passed, bringing spring to Central, but deeper snow to the North, almost completely obscuring Roy's tiny shack amongst the trees.
Roy was out gathering firewood, when Jean arrived. Bundled warmly in his Military-issue coat, arms full of lumber too wet to burn properly, he actually laughed at the sight of his lover, the tall man huddled against the door of the outpost, shivering and looking utterly miserable.
"Jean, didn't your mother ever teach you to wear a hat when you play in the snow?" he said, unlocking the tiny shack and motioning for his lover to precede him inside.
"My mother doesn't know I'm out here," said Jean, through chattering teeth. "She'd probably cry if she knew our country made people live out here in conditions like this."
Roy hmm'd softly. "Probably," he said. He took Jean's coat and arranged the man on a cushion on the floor, wrapping him tightly in a dark brown blanket from the sofa. Then, with a small smile, he reached into the pocket of his uniform trousers and drew out one of his ignition gloves, snapping once over the logs in the fireplace, filling the small cabin with the warm glow of a roaring fire.
Jean untangled himself from the blanket and pulled Roy close. "Love it when you do that, Roy," he murmured.
"I know," said Roy. "I've been practicing, since you came up to see me last time. Nearly burnt the place down, the first time I tried it."
"Good to see you doing it again, Roy," said Jean, softly. He pressed a soft kiss to his lover's lips, then added, "and I'm glad you didn't burn your little shed down. It would be a pity to see such a fine work of architecture destroyed."
Roy snorted and kissed him back. "That's the first order of business when I leave this place," he said. "I'm going to burn this place so thoroughly that they'll not be able to tell where it was, save for the big scorch mark it'll leave."
"Been making plans to leave, hmm? That's encouraging."
"Mmm," said Roy. "Not much else to do up here. Practice Alchemy, plan how I'm going to destroy things, think about the past." He rocked his hips forward, cuddling closer to his lover, then sighed and cocked his head, fingers sliding into the short hair at the nape of Jean's neck. "You know, when I was a boy, my mother used to sit me in the corner whenever I misbehaved. Always said think about what you've done, so I'd know not to do whatever it was, again."
Jean nodded. "My mom did that to me, too. Never did much good."
"No," said Roy, softly, his handsome features settling into a frown. "No, but it did keep us out of their hair until they weren't so angry anymore. Ever think of it like that?"
Jean shook his head.
"Neither did I," said Roy, "but now ... now, that's what they've done with me, Jean. I'm in time-out until they don't want to execute me anymore. Giving me plenty of time to sit up here and think about what I did, analyze every wrong move I made, every glaringly obvious mistake that I so boldly mmph!"
He didn't open his mouth for Jean's tongue, but it didn't matter. The feel of his lover's warm breath washing over his chilled skin, the feel of strong arms pulling him close and holding him-forcing him to be close, to be warm-was so good, so desperately unfamiliar in the cold darkness of his solitary home, that he didn't fight it, didn't take control of it, didn't do anything. He felt Jean's tongue slip into his mouth, and moaned softly, felt Jean's fingers push under his shirt, cold against his spine, and shivered. When he felt Jean press forward, he surrendered, until Jean stole his breath, kissing him until he was dizzy and lost and warm and home.
"Roy," said Jean, "please don't make me go home alone."
"Jean," he panted, "please don't make me go back."
Stalemate was inevitable, so Jean covered Roy's mouth and Roy sucked on Jean's tongue, and together they blindly undressed each other in the flickering light of the fire, uniforms and eye-patches and clothes and blanket falling around them into a makeshift mattress, soft and lumpy and warm and just-good-enough for two men who couldn't have wanted it more.
When Roy pressed a bottle of hand lotion into Jean's hand, rocking forward so that his erection rubbed against Jean's, the younger man moaned, squeezing lotion onto his middle and index fingers. He tried not to smear lotion on the blanket when he slid his hand down Roy's hard, muscular body, but he was too impatient, too desperate to touch and be touched, so much so that lotion got everywhere, Roy crying out as Jean teased and pushed, entering him.
"Oh Jean ... too long ... so good ..."
He flexed his thighs, pale skin prickled with cold, cheeks flushed with arousal as he rode Jean's hand, forcing long, calloused fingers as deep into his body as they would go. When Jean steadied him, fingers scissoring to stretch him, Roy winced and dug his nails into Jean's shoulders, biting his lip. As Jean's lover, before, his body had accepted Jean into it after only a moment's preparation, eased the first few times by alcohol, then afterwards, eased by practice and frequency. After months of separation, however, months of forced abstinence and sobriety, his body was tight and unyielding, so much so that Jean had to calm his frustrated whimpers with gentle words and feathered kisses down his throat, murmuring reassurances as he worked a third finger past the tight muscle of Roy's entrance, stretching and pushing and stroking.
"Maybe a little too long," Jean said, nipping at Roy's throat to distract him.
"No," said Roy, pushing down, forcing Jean's fingers into his body. "That's enough, I want you now."
"You're sure?" said Jean.
Roy leered at him, shivering hard enough that the effect wasn't quite what he'd had in mind. "I could make it an order," he said, softly.
Jean moaned and passed him the lotion. "Yes, sir."
They worked together, wordlessly, brows furrowed in concentration, breath coming fast and shallow as Roy slicked lotion over Jean's erection, holding it firmly at the base as he raised himself up, guiding it to his entrance. Jean waited until he felt the head of his own cock against his fingers, then slid them out as his erection slid in, holding Roy open as best he could until he was inside and pushing, and Roy was panting and sinking down, body tight and trembling as he took Jean inside.
"Okay?"
Roy nodded. "Just give me a minute."
They kissed until Roy's body loosened around Jean's cock, kissed through the first tentative thrusts, Roy's hips rocking steadily, squeezing Jean's hips, Jean's hands steadying him, holding and encouraging him. When he began riding his lover in earnest, Jean broke the kiss and cried out, wrapping one hand around Roy's erection, pumping it as he rocked forward, spilling the smaller man in a graceful fall of limbs onto the blanket and their discarded clothes.
"Roy," he whispered, "mmm Roy ... you're so hot ... I want you ..."
Roy growled, deep in his throat. "Then take me," he said, spreading his legs wider apart and bucking beneath his lover. "Harder, Jean, I won't break."
"No, you won't," whispered Jean, "but I might. Fuck, you're tight Roy ... missed this. Missed you."
His lover didn't answer, wrapping his arms around Jean's shoulders, his legs around the man's waist, pulling them together too tightly for Jean to stroke him. With a grunt, Jean shifted, lotion-slick hands fisting in the blanket, scrabbling for purchase as he thrust, fast and hard for only the last few moments before he tightened and stilled and cried out and came, deep and long inside Roy's body.
"Roy ... Oh Roy that's ... aah ..."
"Mmm," said Roy. "Yeah."
He lay still, stroking Jean's coarse blonde hair when the man had recovered enough to slide down between his legs, mouth wrapped around Roy's cock, tongue and throat working and teasing and tickling, bringing Roy off in only a matter of moments. With a half-swallowed shout of Jean's name, Roy arched and trembled, moaning as Jean swallowed his semen, sucking at the head of his cock until he'd finished and had begun to go soft. Sticky and sated, they tugged at the blanket until they were both covered enough to be warm, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing and panting and dozing, the fire warm behind them.
~♥~♥~♥~
"Please Roy."
Roy shook his head, his hair scrubbing the collar of Jean's coat.
"Don't make me beg you, please."
Roy chuckled. "You're already begging, Jean."
"Then come home with me?"
Roy sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't, Jean. I just can't."
Gently, he buttoned Jean's coat, offered the man his own hat, then watched him go, Jean's shoulders hunched in defeat as he disappeared in the swirling snow.
~♥~♥~♥~
The third time Jean visited his lover in the Northern Outpost, he was in a hurry, and he wasn't alone.
Roy's good eye widened at the sight of the older woman standing beside Jean, shivering in the driving snow that whipped around the corner of his quarters, drifting deep around her ankles. She greeted him politely, patting his arm as he held the door for her, commenting that she was surprised to find Jean's description of the Northern Outpost to be accurate, not exaggerated in the slightest.
"When my husband was still on active duty," she said, seated primly beside her son on the lumpy couch, watching Roy make tea, "he used to joke about taking the post up here and bringing Jean along, wanting to teach him to ski." She sighed and took the cup of tea Roy handed her, patting Jean's knee with her free hand. "They never got the chance, though. Life moves too quickly, sometimes."
Roy served his lover a cup of tea as well, giving the man a look when their fingers brushed. Jean gave him a hang-dog look.
"I never really liked the cold much, Dad didn't either," he said. "We were better at fishing together, anyway."
His mother beamed. "Oh, yes, they used to fish together all the time, out in the country." She smiled at Roy. "Probably seems very rustic to you, dear, doesn't it?"
"No, ma'am," said Roy. "Colonel Havoc and I have gone fishing together with our ... comrades, a few times. I liked it."
Jean nudged his mother. "I told you about that, Ma, remember? Heymans and Cain and Vato tagged along, and Vato caught that huge catfish, then let it go because he felt sorry for it?"
His mother laughed. "I remember that, yes. You had your father doubled over laughing, when you told him about it."
"Yeah," said Jean, taking a drink of his tea. "That was a good time."
They sat in silence for a moment, Roy doing his best not to look uncomfortable under his lover's and his lover's mother's gazes, which rested on him over the rims of their mismatched tea mugs. When his own cup was empty, and Jean was fidgeting like a schoolboy, he cleared his throat and adjusted his eye-patch, crossing his legs and frowning.
"I'm assuming, Colonel," he said, "that there's a reason you've dragged your mother up here in the snow."
Jean sighed and nodded.
Roy sighed. "Want to enlighten me?"
His lover looked pained. "Ma heard from Cain-who heard from Vato, who heard from Heymans, who saw Riza signing my form-that I was coming back up here to see you," he said. "She wanted to come along."
Roy's eyebrow arched. "Really?" he said.
"More or less," said Jean.
Jean's mother sighed and patted her son's knee. "My son's been pining for you," she said. "Coming up here in this atrocious weather to visit you every so often. I didn't want him coming alone, this time. Besides, you've been stubborn about coming back, seems to me that you need to have some sense talked into you."
"Ma, I didn't come up here because I was lonely," said Jean. He saw the look on Roy's face and backpedaled. "I mean, yeah, I miss you, Roy, but ... Ma, just let me handle this?"
"Yes, dear," said his mother, giving his knee another pat.
Jean sighed. "I'm up here with a letter of reassignment, Roy," he said. "A situation has come up back home that requires your attention, effective immediately." He pulled a letter out of the pocket of his civilian dress-shirt and handed it to his bewildered lover, brushing his finger's against Roy's before letting go. "Read that, then start packing."
Roy unfolded the letter and scanned it, good eye widening as he re-read it.
"We're not sure he's going to make it, yet," said Jean, softly, "but he's doing well enough that you have no business being up here, three days' journey from Headquarters." He rose and stretched, then took his mother's empty tea mug over to the dishbucket in the corner, rinsing and drying both before putting them away. "Pack up, Roy, we're going home."
"I'm not going," said Roy, refolding the letter and slipping it into his pocket. "I won't leave my post unmanned."
Jean dried his hands on the legs of his trousers, then made his way over to his lover, taking the man firmly by the arm and leading him to the back portion of the cabin, where Roy's trunk and bedroll were. "Don't make me make this an order, Roy," he said softly, his breath disturbing the shaggy strands of black hair that were in desperate need of a trim. "I can order you to Central just as easily as I can put this place on unmanned reserve, and you know it. Now pack up your stuff and come on. Edward was pissed enough that you weren't there when he got home, I don't think he'll be any happier if you make him wait longer than he has to."
"You boys play nicely," said Jean's mother, from the doorway, her back to them as she watched the snow fall. "Jean, you help him pack his things, we'll need to go soon if we're to make it back to town before nightfall."
"Yes, Ma," said Jean. He regarded his lover coolly, his stern expression melting into a heartfelt grin when Roy sighed and nodded, bending to pack his things. Within minutes, the cabin was empty and dark, the fire extinguished in the corner, and Jean was leading his lover and his mother out into the snow, cheeks flushed and lips slightly swollen, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, Roy's hand tightly clasped in his own.
~♥~♥~♥~
In the warmth of their room at the inn, bathed in soft light from the bedside lamp, cradled in the soft embrace of a real bed, Jean lay perfectly still, hands tight on Roy’s thighs, watching his lover tease himself, watched him tease them both, his hips barely moving, rolling just enough to rub the tight ring of muscle wrapped around the base of Jean’s cock in small motions, tantalizing and hot and torturously erotic.
It was heaven. It was hell.
Three hours, they'd walked through the snow, shivering and talking, Jean's arm securely around his mother's shoulders, his body protecting her from the wind, his free hand tightly clasped in Roy's.
Two hours, they’d sat together, cold-numb limbs thawing as they ate dinner at the inn's restaurant, politely keeping their distance while sitting with Jean's mother before saying goodnight and seeing the old woman to her room, trying to mask their excitement at being alone as they walked back to their own room, hand-in-hand.
Thirty minutes, they’d kissed in the darkness of their room, gasping and fumbling with each other’s clothing, Roy’s eye-patch falling to the floor along with the other clothes covering his body, both of them laughing softly at the ease with which Jean's civilian clothes fell away, contrasted sharply against the difficulty they had arguing Roy’s uniform into the floor.
Ten minutes, they’d held each other in the shower, bathing and touching and kissing and murmuring, all tongues and hands and warm water, Jean shivering when Roy pushed him up against the cold tile wall, Roy yelping when Jean tickled him in revenge.
Two minutes, they’d dried and kissed and rubbed and wet and stretched, and then Roy had climbed into Jean’s lap and lowered himself onto his blonde lover’s erection, sighing as it slid into his body, hard and wet and familiar, Roy's body offering none of the resistance it had offered, before.
Now, joined together, they were taking their time, enjoying the feel of each other’s flesh, the sound of heavy breathing, the rocking motion of the bedframe under the strain of Roy’s motion, steady and gentle.
Controlled. Just like the man himself.
“Jean,” he whispered, tightening around his lover's erection, “Jean, my Jean, mmm.”
Jean sighed and rocked forward, stretching up until Roy noticed and bent to kiss him, then pulled the man back against the pillows propped against the headboard, thrusting his hips upward at the same time, making Roy arch and cry out, fingers digging into Jean’s strong shoulders.
Possession for possession, pleasure for pleasure.
“Hard?” said Roy.
“Please,” said Jean.
Roy closed his eyes and arched his back, lifting himself halfway up Jean’s erection, then relaxed back down onto it, building a hard, even rhythm, Jean’s hands digging into the soft flesh of his backside, feeling his movement more than guiding it. Jean sighed and mouthed Roy’s throat, moaning as the burn of orgasm grew with agonizing slowness in his belly. When he felt the buzz of Roy’s plaintive whimpering, vibrating through the older man’s throat to tickle his lips, he leant back and wrapped one of his hands around the man’s erection, stroking fast and sure.
He knew what his lover wanted, what he needed. Only a few sharp tugs later, Roy cried out and came, his body tightening beautifully around Jean’s cock, muscles rippling as he rode the man, his rhythm faltering only a little as his cock pulsed between them. When it was over, semen dripping messily down Jean’s chest, Roy retuned to the task of giving pleasure, thrusting his hips hard and fast, fucking himself on Jean’s cock, groaning when Jean gripped his hips and guided him down, thrusting up simultaneously to chase the bliss of release.
When it came, sharp and bright and even better than it had been in the flickering firelight of his lover's cold, dark hell, Jean arched and screamed, too loudly considering the thin walls of the inn, but he didn’t care. Roy was tight and warm around him, Roy’s mouth was wet and familiar against his own, and the months passed between them with no word, no contact, were melting away with each pulse of his cock, each shiver of pleasure that raced up his spine.
"I love you," he whimpered, holding Roy tightly as orgasm faded into afterglow. "I love you so much, Roy."
Roy sighed and nuzzled him, sweaty and semen-sticky and sated. "Love you too, Jean," he said.
~♥~♥~♥~
They stood outside Edward's hospital room, Roy's hands gloved and fidgeting nervously at his sides, Jean's hands sunk deep in his pockets, worrying the seam of his boxers through the cotton pocket-liner. Inside the room, they could hear Al's voice, deeper than it had been before his brother's return, but still higher than the older boy's, Edward's voice answering him, deep and thickly accented.
"Nothing to be nervous about, Roy," said Jean, eventually, glancing sidelong at his lover. "Just Full Metal and Al, in there."
Roy snorted. "Don't be foolish, Jean," he said. "Just don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, is all."
"Wrong idea?"
His lover looked up at him, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "I didn't come back because of Edward, Jean," he said, softly. "I came home because you asked me to."
Then with that, he pushed open the door and walked away, leaving Jean alone in the hallway.
~♥~♥~♥~
Roy was laughing, the sound rich and full in the echoing corridors of Central Hospital. Jean leant back against the wall and winked at Al, who was standing opposite him, hands fidgeting with the long red coat he still stubbornly wore.
"It's good to have him back," he said, when Edward's voice rose over Roy's shouting something about shoving his boot up the Colonel's-no, wait, you got demoted! You're just a grunt now, HA!-ass as equivalent trade.
Al nodded. "I've missed him. And Brother missed him, too, even though he won't admit it."
Jean blinked at him. "I meant-"
"I know," said Al. He smiled and reached for the doorhandle of his brother's room. "Thank you for bringing him back, Colonel. Central wasn't the same without him."
"No," said Jean, watching the boy disappear into the room. "No, it wasn't."
NC-17 for sex, sex, and more sex, with more plot than usual, but that's just because I was reading scribblemoose's Saint Beast stuff and its plot made me feel mediocre for writing nothing but mindless smut.
Homecoming
by Mistress Quickly
It wasn't a sentence, really, not something a criminal would be given, and for that, they all were grateful, but it was still bad, still taking away One of Their Own, and that loss, on top of all others, was excruciating. Colonel Roy Mustang accepted it with grace, bowing his head in respect to the brass, then draped his arm around Alphonse Elric, reassuring the boy as they left the courtroom that, despite the turn of events, they would still search for Edward.
On the last night before Private Roy Mustang left for the Northern Outpost, where he would spend three years serving alone, grace no longer mattered, stripped naked and trembling, holding his lover while the man held him and kissed him and cried like a little boy.
"It's okay Jean, shh," Roy whispered, his good eye closed as he kissed coarse blonde hair.
"I don't want you to go," Jean sobbed, shaking and clinging and hurting. "You belong here, Roy. Not there."
Roy shook his head. "I failed everyone-failed them-while I was here, Jean," he said. "There's nothing for me here that I won't have there."
He endured Jean's sobbing, held the man until sleep triumphed, then lay back and let him go.
~♥~♥~♥~
The first time Jean visited his lover in the Northern Outpost, it had been three months since the Court had stripped Roy of his rank and sent him North to serve, alone and away from his men.
He and First Lieutenant Breda sat on the lumpy sofa in Roy's tiny outpost shack, surrounded by the whine of the wind whistling around the eaves, the crackle and hiss of the warm fire. Silence had settled around them after the first two minutes of their visit, when Jean had drawn out a cigarette and, rather than pulling on one of his ignition gloves, Roy had offered the man a pack of matches and a quiet apology that he'd not done Alchemy since he'd lost his eye.
Jean put away his cigarette and grinned, lying that he was trying to quit smoking anyway, but the damage had already been done.
When a log in the tiny fire in the corner settled and popped, Jean decided that he'd had enough of silence and waiting, and shifted in his seat, elbowing Breda as he stifled his sigh of irritation. Heymans was a great friend and a loyal companion, but dense, as dependable in a fight as he was to be a total idiot under normal circumstances. Slow as he was on the uptake, Jean knew he could depend on his friend to remember their plan.
Breda's acting skills didn't disappoint him. The redhead stood and stretched, then exhaled loudly. "I'm going to go out and see if I can't make friends with the great outdoors," he said. Then he nodded to Roy and made his way out, pulling the door closed tightly behind him.
Jean was on his feet in a heartbeat, tugging Roy to him and kissing the man, brushing Roy's lips with the tip of his tongue until Roy opened for him and kissed back, warm and wet and familiar. When he felt the older man start to pull away, he pressed forward, wrapping his arms around Roy's shoulders and kissing more deeply, whimpering when Roy melted against him.
"Mmm," he moaned, pulling away when they were both out of breath and Roy was struggling enough for him to let go. "Missed you, Roy."
Roy swallowed hard. "Breda," he said, "will be back soon."
Jean snorted. "Like I'd bring someone up here with me who didn't know about us. He'll give us time, Roy." He saw the look in his lover's eye and laughed softly. "They all knew, Roy. Even Full Metal figured it out, and that kid wasn't much one for subtlety."
"Still," said Roy. "It's cold out there. What if he-"
"He won't," said Jean. "He told me I wasn't permitted to come out of this outpost until I'd fucked some sense into you or fucked your delusions of failure out of your system. Either way, he'll know if that's not happened if we go home without you and I go right back to moping around while you stay up here where you can't warm my bed at night." He stroked the tips of his fingers down his lover's cheek, leant close and kissed him softly on the lips. "We're all worried about you, Roy," he whispered. "Especially me. I miss you. Want you to come home. I can make that happen, you know. Just tell me to do it."
"I can't," said Roy, shaking his head, stiffening only a little when Jean drew him close, fingers splayed across his back, stroking him comfortingly through the thick fabric of his coat. "I failed, Jean. I promised that I'd save our country, that I'd save those boys, and ..."
"Stop it, Roy, shh, stop," said Jean, kissing his lover's hair, holding the man tightly. "No-one thinks you failed, never did. Just come home, Roy. Please, we all want you to come home."
"Jean," said Roy, forehead pressed to his lover's neck, face buried in the collar of the man's coat, "honestly, what would I do, were I to go back with you? Sit around the big table and gripe about doing paperwork? Compete with the other sergeants to see who can get the most pencils to stick in the ceiling tiles when my superiors aren't looking? Lounge across my superior's desk and steal his heart right out of his chest?"
Jean smiled and reached between them, tilting Roy's face up. "I am a colonel now, Roy," he said, gently. "A little fraternization would be wonderfully refreshing. Although-" he kissed Roy, deep and slow "-I trust you'll still bend me over the desk, right? Even if it is my desk, not yours? I have missed feeling you inside me." He sighed and rested his chin on Roy's head. "Nearly as much as I've missed feeling you beside me."
Roy sighed. "I've missed you, too," he said, softly. "But I'm sorry, Jean. I just can't."
Jean nodded and kissed him, then stepped back and let him go.
~♥~♥~♥~
"You know everyone's going to blame me," said Breda, plodding through the snow beside his heartbroken companion. "No-one's going to believe that a guy like you wouldn't be able to bring him home. They're all going to think it was my fault."
Jean shook his head. "They wouldn't want to see him like this," he said. "He'll come back when he's ready."
Breda sighed. "And you'll be waiting," he said. "You're a good man, Jean."
"Thanks," said Jean.
~♥~♥~♥~
The second time Jean visited his lover in the Northern Outpost, two months had passed, bringing spring to Central, but deeper snow to the North, almost completely obscuring Roy's tiny shack amongst the trees.
Roy was out gathering firewood, when Jean arrived. Bundled warmly in his Military-issue coat, arms full of lumber too wet to burn properly, he actually laughed at the sight of his lover, the tall man huddled against the door of the outpost, shivering and looking utterly miserable.
"Jean, didn't your mother ever teach you to wear a hat when you play in the snow?" he said, unlocking the tiny shack and motioning for his lover to precede him inside.
"My mother doesn't know I'm out here," said Jean, through chattering teeth. "She'd probably cry if she knew our country made people live out here in conditions like this."
Roy hmm'd softly. "Probably," he said. He took Jean's coat and arranged the man on a cushion on the floor, wrapping him tightly in a dark brown blanket from the sofa. Then, with a small smile, he reached into the pocket of his uniform trousers and drew out one of his ignition gloves, snapping once over the logs in the fireplace, filling the small cabin with the warm glow of a roaring fire.
Jean untangled himself from the blanket and pulled Roy close. "Love it when you do that, Roy," he murmured.
"I know," said Roy. "I've been practicing, since you came up to see me last time. Nearly burnt the place down, the first time I tried it."
"Good to see you doing it again, Roy," said Jean, softly. He pressed a soft kiss to his lover's lips, then added, "and I'm glad you didn't burn your little shed down. It would be a pity to see such a fine work of architecture destroyed."
Roy snorted and kissed him back. "That's the first order of business when I leave this place," he said. "I'm going to burn this place so thoroughly that they'll not be able to tell where it was, save for the big scorch mark it'll leave."
"Been making plans to leave, hmm? That's encouraging."
"Mmm," said Roy. "Not much else to do up here. Practice Alchemy, plan how I'm going to destroy things, think about the past." He rocked his hips forward, cuddling closer to his lover, then sighed and cocked his head, fingers sliding into the short hair at the nape of Jean's neck. "You know, when I was a boy, my mother used to sit me in the corner whenever I misbehaved. Always said think about what you've done, so I'd know not to do whatever it was, again."
Jean nodded. "My mom did that to me, too. Never did much good."
"No," said Roy, softly, his handsome features settling into a frown. "No, but it did keep us out of their hair until they weren't so angry anymore. Ever think of it like that?"
Jean shook his head.
"Neither did I," said Roy, "but now ... now, that's what they've done with me, Jean. I'm in time-out until they don't want to execute me anymore. Giving me plenty of time to sit up here and think about what I did, analyze every wrong move I made, every glaringly obvious mistake that I so boldly mmph!"
He didn't open his mouth for Jean's tongue, but it didn't matter. The feel of his lover's warm breath washing over his chilled skin, the feel of strong arms pulling him close and holding him-forcing him to be close, to be warm-was so good, so desperately unfamiliar in the cold darkness of his solitary home, that he didn't fight it, didn't take control of it, didn't do anything. He felt Jean's tongue slip into his mouth, and moaned softly, felt Jean's fingers push under his shirt, cold against his spine, and shivered. When he felt Jean press forward, he surrendered, until Jean stole his breath, kissing him until he was dizzy and lost and warm and home.
"Roy," said Jean, "please don't make me go home alone."
"Jean," he panted, "please don't make me go back."
Stalemate was inevitable, so Jean covered Roy's mouth and Roy sucked on Jean's tongue, and together they blindly undressed each other in the flickering light of the fire, uniforms and eye-patches and clothes and blanket falling around them into a makeshift mattress, soft and lumpy and warm and just-good-enough for two men who couldn't have wanted it more.
When Roy pressed a bottle of hand lotion into Jean's hand, rocking forward so that his erection rubbed against Jean's, the younger man moaned, squeezing lotion onto his middle and index fingers. He tried not to smear lotion on the blanket when he slid his hand down Roy's hard, muscular body, but he was too impatient, too desperate to touch and be touched, so much so that lotion got everywhere, Roy crying out as Jean teased and pushed, entering him.
"Oh Jean ... too long ... so good ..."
He flexed his thighs, pale skin prickled with cold, cheeks flushed with arousal as he rode Jean's hand, forcing long, calloused fingers as deep into his body as they would go. When Jean steadied him, fingers scissoring to stretch him, Roy winced and dug his nails into Jean's shoulders, biting his lip. As Jean's lover, before, his body had accepted Jean into it after only a moment's preparation, eased the first few times by alcohol, then afterwards, eased by practice and frequency. After months of separation, however, months of forced abstinence and sobriety, his body was tight and unyielding, so much so that Jean had to calm his frustrated whimpers with gentle words and feathered kisses down his throat, murmuring reassurances as he worked a third finger past the tight muscle of Roy's entrance, stretching and pushing and stroking.
"Maybe a little too long," Jean said, nipping at Roy's throat to distract him.
"No," said Roy, pushing down, forcing Jean's fingers into his body. "That's enough, I want you now."
"You're sure?" said Jean.
Roy leered at him, shivering hard enough that the effect wasn't quite what he'd had in mind. "I could make it an order," he said, softly.
Jean moaned and passed him the lotion. "Yes, sir."
They worked together, wordlessly, brows furrowed in concentration, breath coming fast and shallow as Roy slicked lotion over Jean's erection, holding it firmly at the base as he raised himself up, guiding it to his entrance. Jean waited until he felt the head of his own cock against his fingers, then slid them out as his erection slid in, holding Roy open as best he could until he was inside and pushing, and Roy was panting and sinking down, body tight and trembling as he took Jean inside.
"Okay?"
Roy nodded. "Just give me a minute."
They kissed until Roy's body loosened around Jean's cock, kissed through the first tentative thrusts, Roy's hips rocking steadily, squeezing Jean's hips, Jean's hands steadying him, holding and encouraging him. When he began riding his lover in earnest, Jean broke the kiss and cried out, wrapping one hand around Roy's erection, pumping it as he rocked forward, spilling the smaller man in a graceful fall of limbs onto the blanket and their discarded clothes.
"Roy," he whispered, "mmm Roy ... you're so hot ... I want you ..."
Roy growled, deep in his throat. "Then take me," he said, spreading his legs wider apart and bucking beneath his lover. "Harder, Jean, I won't break."
"No, you won't," whispered Jean, "but I might. Fuck, you're tight Roy ... missed this. Missed you."
His lover didn't answer, wrapping his arms around Jean's shoulders, his legs around the man's waist, pulling them together too tightly for Jean to stroke him. With a grunt, Jean shifted, lotion-slick hands fisting in the blanket, scrabbling for purchase as he thrust, fast and hard for only the last few moments before he tightened and stilled and cried out and came, deep and long inside Roy's body.
"Roy ... Oh Roy that's ... aah ..."
"Mmm," said Roy. "Yeah."
He lay still, stroking Jean's coarse blonde hair when the man had recovered enough to slide down between his legs, mouth wrapped around Roy's cock, tongue and throat working and teasing and tickling, bringing Roy off in only a matter of moments. With a half-swallowed shout of Jean's name, Roy arched and trembled, moaning as Jean swallowed his semen, sucking at the head of his cock until he'd finished and had begun to go soft. Sticky and sated, they tugged at the blanket until they were both covered enough to be warm, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing and panting and dozing, the fire warm behind them.
~♥~♥~♥~
"Please Roy."
Roy shook his head, his hair scrubbing the collar of Jean's coat.
"Don't make me beg you, please."
Roy chuckled. "You're already begging, Jean."
"Then come home with me?"
Roy sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't, Jean. I just can't."
Gently, he buttoned Jean's coat, offered the man his own hat, then watched him go, Jean's shoulders hunched in defeat as he disappeared in the swirling snow.
~♥~♥~♥~
The third time Jean visited his lover in the Northern Outpost, he was in a hurry, and he wasn't alone.
Roy's good eye widened at the sight of the older woman standing beside Jean, shivering in the driving snow that whipped around the corner of his quarters, drifting deep around her ankles. She greeted him politely, patting his arm as he held the door for her, commenting that she was surprised to find Jean's description of the Northern Outpost to be accurate, not exaggerated in the slightest.
"When my husband was still on active duty," she said, seated primly beside her son on the lumpy couch, watching Roy make tea, "he used to joke about taking the post up here and bringing Jean along, wanting to teach him to ski." She sighed and took the cup of tea Roy handed her, patting Jean's knee with her free hand. "They never got the chance, though. Life moves too quickly, sometimes."
Roy served his lover a cup of tea as well, giving the man a look when their fingers brushed. Jean gave him a hang-dog look.
"I never really liked the cold much, Dad didn't either," he said. "We were better at fishing together, anyway."
His mother beamed. "Oh, yes, they used to fish together all the time, out in the country." She smiled at Roy. "Probably seems very rustic to you, dear, doesn't it?"
"No, ma'am," said Roy. "Colonel Havoc and I have gone fishing together with our ... comrades, a few times. I liked it."
Jean nudged his mother. "I told you about that, Ma, remember? Heymans and Cain and Vato tagged along, and Vato caught that huge catfish, then let it go because he felt sorry for it?"
His mother laughed. "I remember that, yes. You had your father doubled over laughing, when you told him about it."
"Yeah," said Jean, taking a drink of his tea. "That was a good time."
They sat in silence for a moment, Roy doing his best not to look uncomfortable under his lover's and his lover's mother's gazes, which rested on him over the rims of their mismatched tea mugs. When his own cup was empty, and Jean was fidgeting like a schoolboy, he cleared his throat and adjusted his eye-patch, crossing his legs and frowning.
"I'm assuming, Colonel," he said, "that there's a reason you've dragged your mother up here in the snow."
Jean sighed and nodded.
Roy sighed. "Want to enlighten me?"
His lover looked pained. "Ma heard from Cain-who heard from Vato, who heard from Heymans, who saw Riza signing my form-that I was coming back up here to see you," he said. "She wanted to come along."
Roy's eyebrow arched. "Really?" he said.
"More or less," said Jean.
Jean's mother sighed and patted her son's knee. "My son's been pining for you," she said. "Coming up here in this atrocious weather to visit you every so often. I didn't want him coming alone, this time. Besides, you've been stubborn about coming back, seems to me that you need to have some sense talked into you."
"Ma, I didn't come up here because I was lonely," said Jean. He saw the look on Roy's face and backpedaled. "I mean, yeah, I miss you, Roy, but ... Ma, just let me handle this?"
"Yes, dear," said his mother, giving his knee another pat.
Jean sighed. "I'm up here with a letter of reassignment, Roy," he said. "A situation has come up back home that requires your attention, effective immediately." He pulled a letter out of the pocket of his civilian dress-shirt and handed it to his bewildered lover, brushing his finger's against Roy's before letting go. "Read that, then start packing."
Roy unfolded the letter and scanned it, good eye widening as he re-read it.
"We're not sure he's going to make it, yet," said Jean, softly, "but he's doing well enough that you have no business being up here, three days' journey from Headquarters." He rose and stretched, then took his mother's empty tea mug over to the dishbucket in the corner, rinsing and drying both before putting them away. "Pack up, Roy, we're going home."
"I'm not going," said Roy, refolding the letter and slipping it into his pocket. "I won't leave my post unmanned."
Jean dried his hands on the legs of his trousers, then made his way over to his lover, taking the man firmly by the arm and leading him to the back portion of the cabin, where Roy's trunk and bedroll were. "Don't make me make this an order, Roy," he said softly, his breath disturbing the shaggy strands of black hair that were in desperate need of a trim. "I can order you to Central just as easily as I can put this place on unmanned reserve, and you know it. Now pack up your stuff and come on. Edward was pissed enough that you weren't there when he got home, I don't think he'll be any happier if you make him wait longer than he has to."
"You boys play nicely," said Jean's mother, from the doorway, her back to them as she watched the snow fall. "Jean, you help him pack his things, we'll need to go soon if we're to make it back to town before nightfall."
"Yes, Ma," said Jean. He regarded his lover coolly, his stern expression melting into a heartfelt grin when Roy sighed and nodded, bending to pack his things. Within minutes, the cabin was empty and dark, the fire extinguished in the corner, and Jean was leading his lover and his mother out into the snow, cheeks flushed and lips slightly swollen, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, Roy's hand tightly clasped in his own.
~♥~♥~♥~
In the warmth of their room at the inn, bathed in soft light from the bedside lamp, cradled in the soft embrace of a real bed, Jean lay perfectly still, hands tight on Roy’s thighs, watching his lover tease himself, watched him tease them both, his hips barely moving, rolling just enough to rub the tight ring of muscle wrapped around the base of Jean’s cock in small motions, tantalizing and hot and torturously erotic.
It was heaven. It was hell.
Three hours, they'd walked through the snow, shivering and talking, Jean's arm securely around his mother's shoulders, his body protecting her from the wind, his free hand tightly clasped in Roy's.
Two hours, they’d sat together, cold-numb limbs thawing as they ate dinner at the inn's restaurant, politely keeping their distance while sitting with Jean's mother before saying goodnight and seeing the old woman to her room, trying to mask their excitement at being alone as they walked back to their own room, hand-in-hand.
Thirty minutes, they’d kissed in the darkness of their room, gasping and fumbling with each other’s clothing, Roy’s eye-patch falling to the floor along with the other clothes covering his body, both of them laughing softly at the ease with which Jean's civilian clothes fell away, contrasted sharply against the difficulty they had arguing Roy’s uniform into the floor.
Ten minutes, they’d held each other in the shower, bathing and touching and kissing and murmuring, all tongues and hands and warm water, Jean shivering when Roy pushed him up against the cold tile wall, Roy yelping when Jean tickled him in revenge.
Two minutes, they’d dried and kissed and rubbed and wet and stretched, and then Roy had climbed into Jean’s lap and lowered himself onto his blonde lover’s erection, sighing as it slid into his body, hard and wet and familiar, Roy's body offering none of the resistance it had offered, before.
Now, joined together, they were taking their time, enjoying the feel of each other’s flesh, the sound of heavy breathing, the rocking motion of the bedframe under the strain of Roy’s motion, steady and gentle.
Controlled. Just like the man himself.
“Jean,” he whispered, tightening around his lover's erection, “Jean, my Jean, mmm.”
Jean sighed and rocked forward, stretching up until Roy noticed and bent to kiss him, then pulled the man back against the pillows propped against the headboard, thrusting his hips upward at the same time, making Roy arch and cry out, fingers digging into Jean’s strong shoulders.
Possession for possession, pleasure for pleasure.
“Hard?” said Roy.
“Please,” said Jean.
Roy closed his eyes and arched his back, lifting himself halfway up Jean’s erection, then relaxed back down onto it, building a hard, even rhythm, Jean’s hands digging into the soft flesh of his backside, feeling his movement more than guiding it. Jean sighed and mouthed Roy’s throat, moaning as the burn of orgasm grew with agonizing slowness in his belly. When he felt the buzz of Roy’s plaintive whimpering, vibrating through the older man’s throat to tickle his lips, he leant back and wrapped one of his hands around the man’s erection, stroking fast and sure.
He knew what his lover wanted, what he needed. Only a few sharp tugs later, Roy cried out and came, his body tightening beautifully around Jean’s cock, muscles rippling as he rode the man, his rhythm faltering only a little as his cock pulsed between them. When it was over, semen dripping messily down Jean’s chest, Roy retuned to the task of giving pleasure, thrusting his hips hard and fast, fucking himself on Jean’s cock, groaning when Jean gripped his hips and guided him down, thrusting up simultaneously to chase the bliss of release.
When it came, sharp and bright and even better than it had been in the flickering firelight of his lover's cold, dark hell, Jean arched and screamed, too loudly considering the thin walls of the inn, but he didn’t care. Roy was tight and warm around him, Roy’s mouth was wet and familiar against his own, and the months passed between them with no word, no contact, were melting away with each pulse of his cock, each shiver of pleasure that raced up his spine.
"I love you," he whimpered, holding Roy tightly as orgasm faded into afterglow. "I love you so much, Roy."
Roy sighed and nuzzled him, sweaty and semen-sticky and sated. "Love you too, Jean," he said.
~♥~♥~♥~
They stood outside Edward's hospital room, Roy's hands gloved and fidgeting nervously at his sides, Jean's hands sunk deep in his pockets, worrying the seam of his boxers through the cotton pocket-liner. Inside the room, they could hear Al's voice, deeper than it had been before his brother's return, but still higher than the older boy's, Edward's voice answering him, deep and thickly accented.
"Nothing to be nervous about, Roy," said Jean, eventually, glancing sidelong at his lover. "Just Full Metal and Al, in there."
Roy snorted. "Don't be foolish, Jean," he said. "Just don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, is all."
"Wrong idea?"
His lover looked up at him, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "I didn't come back because of Edward, Jean," he said, softly. "I came home because you asked me to."
Then with that, he pushed open the door and walked away, leaving Jean alone in the hallway.
~♥~♥~♥~
Roy was laughing, the sound rich and full in the echoing corridors of Central Hospital. Jean leant back against the wall and winked at Al, who was standing opposite him, hands fidgeting with the long red coat he still stubbornly wore.
"It's good to have him back," he said, when Edward's voice rose over Roy's shouting something about shoving his boot up the Colonel's-no, wait, you got demoted! You're just a grunt now, HA!-ass as equivalent trade.
Al nodded. "I've missed him. And Brother missed him, too, even though he won't admit it."
Jean blinked at him. "I meant-"
"I know," said Al. He smiled and reached for the doorhandle of his brother's room. "Thank you for bringing him back, Colonel. Central wasn't the same without him."
"No," said Jean, watching the boy disappear into the room. "No, it wasn't."