Archive of Our Own ^beta

If Roy was hoping that taking Edward out for drinks would help him wind down after their first joint mission in a while, then he was sorely mistaken; somehow, miraculously, Ed manages to look even twitchier in the middle of a club with a drink in his hand than he does in the middle of a firefight with a gun. He barely glances up when Roy flops back down into his seat with his own newly refilled drink and sweat on his brow from dancing, instead just going back to scanning the crowds as if expecting someone to throw a warp out or something.

Well. If Elric won’t have fun on his own, Roy will just have to make him have fun.

“Relax,” Roy murmurs in his ear, his chest pressing to Ed’s shoulder as he leans close to be heard over Purgatory’s thumping music. It’s not to his personal taste, club music rarely is, but he can’t deny that it allows ample opportunity to create intimate situations like this. Or that it quite adequately gets the blood pumping. Roy’s certainly is. Though that might be a mixture of things: the adrenaline from the fight earlier, the alcohol in his veins, the way Ed’s hair still manages to look vibrant instead of washed out beneath the pulsing blue and purple lights. Roy wonders if it’s as soft as it looks, what it smells like; if he’s weird for wondering. Ed would certainly say he is. “You’re supposed to be celebrating a job well done.”

Predictably, Ed jumps as if he’s just been shot, clearly not expecting such an abrupt intrusion of his personal space. He turns his head to glare at Roy out of the corner of his eye, his shoulders hunching defensively. “Get your tongue out of my ear, fucker.”

“You wish, Elric,” Roy laughs, and laughs harder at the dark flush that blooms across Ed’s cheeks as he looks away with a huff.

Bless him, but the kid’s never been subtle about his appreciation of Roy’s body; earlier today, when Roy had walked down the Flame’s gangway onto the surface of the moon they’d been sent to secure, he’d been halfway convinced that Ed was gonna get himself killed by the geth they were hunting because he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way Roy’s biotic skinsuit clung to him. Thankfully, as was the trend, Ed surprised him; despite being a brash, loudmouth brat for ninety percent of his waking hours, from the moment he’d racked his shotgun he’d stayed focused on the mission, only speaking over the comms to relay coordinates of bogies to Alphonse, or to request coverfire when he was swapping his thermals or readying a nova.

Roy would even admit to his own appreciation of Ed’s body, though until now he’s never cared to act on it, or do much more than tease Ed about his own obvious crush. But working with Spectre Elric today for the first time in a while… it’d been too long since they’d been on a mission together. He’d been reminded all over again how intense Ed became when he was clocked in, and as usual watching him work made it hard to remember why Roy’s never made his interest more known. Especially when they ended up having to close in on a group of enemies and Ed had charged ahead, biotics blazing as he shot forward into the fray like a bowling ball determined to get a strike. He’d moved through the compound they’d been clearing with such confidence and unerring skill that Roy won’t lie, it’d had his mind wandering when it really shouldn’t have, wondering if Ed would be that confident and skillful in bed. Or against a wall. Or on the floor. Or sitting in the Flame’s captain’s chair–

Man, the turian bartender is really mixing these levo drinks hard, isn’t he?

Anyway. Unfortunately, Ed is not nearly so confident now. He’s still sitting at the table Roy’s team had claimed when they’d arrived and sipping at his first drink almost cautiously. Even Alphonse, who can’t actually get drunk, has had more to drink, if only for the taste of it. Ed’s little brother is currently cutting a rug on the dance floor –do people even still use that expression on Earth? he’ll ask one of the brothers later–, lost in the throng of sweaty bodies. He’s a shockingly good dancer, for a comatose man piloting a robot with his brain; Roy had been pleasantly surprised by the fluidity Al had moved with when they’d all been dancing together earlier. All of them but Ed, of course, who’d been hanging back and watching them closely from the table.

Roy’s not usually much of a dancer, sort of comes with the territory of staring down the barrel of forty, but he’s not going to pretend he didn’t put a little extra oomph into his hips while dancing with Havoc in the hopes it might get Ed’s attention. It certainly got Havoc’s, but it’s not like that’s very hard to do. At least it’s nice to know if Ed shoots him down, Roy still won’t have to leave alone. Regardless, if Ed was watching, he was doing a better job of hiding it than he had at the start of the mission; every time he’d snuck a peek over to see Ed’s reaction, he found the blond’s eyes trained on his brother. No doubt he was worried if the mech had been recharged enough on the trip back to the Citadel for Al to put it through its paces like this.

Poor Alphonse. Can’t pick a rock out of his shoe without Ed breathing down his synthetic neck asking if he’s okay.

Maybe that’s the ticket to getting Ed to loosen up a little. Talking about Al always cheers him up.

“How’d he handle it?” Roy asks, still pressed close to Ed’s side so he doesn’t have to shout. It’s a good excuse, because it’s a necessary one; the music is loud enough that if he were actually sitting upright in his seat, he would have to yell to be heard.

Ed jumps again, though less dramatically this time, but before he can have a chance to keep complaining about their proximity, Roy just points across the crowd to where Al can be seen spinning a delighted Riza for a few brief seconds before they’re lost to the crowd again.

He can’t help the way the sight makes him grin; Riza has two left feet —or whatever the turian equivalent to feet is— and with how hard her carapace is, dancing becomes more of a contact sport than anything. But since Al can literally just turn off his pain receptors, she’s finally got a dancing partner who can take an errant spur to the knee and not flinch. Glancing back at Ed, still smiling, he clarifies, “The new shell hold a charge okay? No issues linking from his body to the Fullmetal and back? The upgrades should have fixed any delay, but let me know if there’s still kinks to work out.”

Ed eyes him for a long moment, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of the question, before finally glancing back in the direction they’d last seen Al in, his shoulders lowering slightly and a small smile on his face; it probably helps that Roy does genuinely care, even if he could just read over the mission report later to satisfy his concerns. Even now that Ed’s well established on his own as Spectre and they don’t do joint missions very often, Roy still makes a point to check in on the brothers now and then.

“He’s good,” Ed finally says back, leaning in towards Roy as well to be heard over the din. “No issues body-hopping. Thanks to you, I guess… wouldn’t have been able to afford all the fancy neurolink stuff without you taking a risk and sponsoring me. Or the Huerta Memorial room. Or… much of anything actually, really.”

Roy smiles. Watches the way Ed’s golden eyes drop down to his lips for the barest moment before snapping back up to his own, that flush growing darker. Smiles wider. Says, “I knew you’d be a good investment. So far you’ve only impressed. You’ve achieved what you’ve got all on your own, Spectre— my recommendation just gave you and the Council both a nudge.” Then he backs off a little and gestures to Ed’s drink, still clutched protectively between his hands. “Not to your liking? We can trade. Or I can go pick something else out for you, if you trust my taste.”

“I don’t,” Ed says flatly, but with a telltale upward curl at the corner of his mouth that betrays him. Roy throws his head back and laughs, tickled instead of offended.

“Come on, Elric,” he cajoles, holding his own drink out. “Try mine. Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

Ed frowns at Roy’s cocktail for several seconds before finally sighing and holding out his own beer. Their fingers brush as they exchange glasses. The music overhead changes from one thumping bassline to another, this one slower-paced but no less insistent in its pounding thrum. Ed’s lips touch the rim of Roy’s drink, overlapping half the impression of Roy’s own lips. A whole damn glass and Ed puts his mouth there. Roy watches, eyes intent, as he takes a pull and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The music’s bass makes his bones rattle. This would be a great song to get fucked to.

Ed’s nose scrunches at the taste and he breathes a quiet Jesus, just barely loud enough to hear with how close they are. Roy laughs again, delighted. He always forgets how much he misses Ed until suddenly they’re together again.

“No?” he asks, grinning.

“It’s sweet,” Ed says.

“What?” Roy asks, voice raised, even though he could hear.

Ed leans in close, his breath gusting over Roy’s ear, and repeats, “It’s sweet! And strong, damn. I don’t hate it, I just didn’t expect it. I thought you’d be drinking whisky or something.”

“I contain multitudes,” Roy says with a smirk. He waits until Ed’s leaned back enough to see when he puts the mouth of the beer bottle to his lips and tips it back, taking a hard pull instead of waterfalling it. When he lowers the bottle again he tongues at the hole to grab any leftover around the rim. It’s a pale ale, cheap and watery. Ed must have ordered it on reflex, the need to scrimp and save ingrained into him even now that he’s got that Spectre paycheck. He watches Ed watch him lick his lips.

Pressing close again, he tracks the way the back of Ed’s neck breaks into goosebumps as he murmurs into his ear, “You can have mine, if you want.” When Ed still hesitates he presses even closer, until his lips brush against Ed’s skin. “We’re supposed to be having fun, Spectre Elric. You’re allowed to cut loose a little after a successful mission.”

Ed shakes his head, looking around with an annoyed expression. “I just– I already hate crowds, and the music is too fucking loud! And I feel like if I take my eyes off my drink for even a second someone is gonna spike it. I wish I hadn’t let you talk me into this.” He runs a hand through his hair, the movement sharp with frustration, and then says with a near-whine, “I don’t understand how you can go from a life-or-death situation, having people shooting at you, to a place like this and relax! How do you do it, Mustang?”

Roy takes another pull from the beer with a smirk. “Call me Roy, we’re not in the field. And it would help if you’d actually let yourself try to have fun instead of just brooding in a corner. Come dance for a song or two, see if you don’t change your mind. If we get drunk enough then we won’t remember how stupid we look– not that I ever look stupid, of course. You on the other hand… well, I suppose I won’t know if you don’t show me. But even if you do, the whole point is to lose yourself in it and unwind.”

When Ed hesitates, still looking around in distaste, Roy takes a risk and sets the beer down, then reaches out and puts his hand on Ed’s thigh. It’s ostensibly just to steady himself as he leans back in, but Ed stiffens and swallows hard, turning wide eyes onto him. It’s not– if Ed shoots him down it doesn’t matter. It’s a big fucking galaxy, and one or both of them can hide at either end of it until the embarrassment runs its course and they can look at each other without remembering. And– the kid doesn’t know it, but even if this ends well they won’t work together again after this. Roy’s got his eyes set higher than just Spectre.

“Or,” he murmurs, just loud enough to be heard over the pounding music, “we could go somewhere quieter, and you could let me talk you into showing you my other favorite way to unwind.”

Then he glances down at Ed’s lips and lets his gaze linger for several seconds before looking back up, just in case he’d missed the point.

Ed stares, eyes bouncing around Roy’s face. Trying to read his micro-expressions. Trying to decide if he’s serious. The two of them have been dancing around each other for years, ever since Ed became a Spectre in full and Roy realized how well he filled out the uniform, but despite the rumors floating around the military, Roy’s never been in the habit of mixing official business with personal pleasure. He’s never let this nebulous thing between them turn into anything more than vague flirting, than appreciative glances out of the corners of their eyes. But if things shake out the way he’s hoping they will, this might be his only opportunity to have Ed in his bed while they’re still in an equal position, before Roy potentially becomes his boss and things get hairy.

And Ed wants him, Roy knows he does. He’s been nipping at Roy’s heels for attention from practically day one. There’s even been a few instances where he was sure that Ed had tried to be more direct with him, but he’d gently rebuffed it every time.

But now Roy’s the one being direct. And the question is, will Ed let himself have what he wants now that it’s finally being offered to him?

“What…” Ed swallows, licks his lips nervously; Roy can’t help but look at them again and list forward hungrily. “What about the others?”

It’s as good as acceptance, and Roy tightens his grip on Ed’s thigh. He leans in again and presses his lips to the soft skin beneath Ed’s ear. Tastes like sweat and the metallic tang of eezo, and Roy immediately knows that one taste won’t be enough. He wants to know if it’ll taste the same everywhere. Ed’s throat, his lips, his thighs, his cock– he wants to put his mouth on every inch of this kid.

“They won’t notice we’re gone,” he murmurs, fingers ghosting up Ed’s thigh to just barely cup the bulge at the front of his pants. Not yet hard but still thick enough to feel, fuck. He wants to see it so bad, feel the weight of it in his hands, his mouth. “And if they do, they won’t be surprised.”

Ed grabs his wrist before he can explore any further and Roy rears back abruptly, feeling foolish and cold.

Did he read the situation wrong? Christ, maybe Ed’s not– has Roy just been projecting this whole time? Fuck, it’s Maes all over again. Can he blame it on the alcohol and salvage their friendship, or–

Still holding his wrist, Ed lunges forward to make up the distance that Roy had placed between them and then they’re kissing, actually kissing, mouth to mouth and tongue to tongue and it’s all Roy can do to keep himself from throwing a leg over Ed’s hip and settling into his lap. He’s so fucking relieved, he can’t keep himself from moaning eagerly as Ed sucks on his tongue, or in dismay when Ed pulls back for breath. Roy shivers at the air that puffs against his spit-slick lips.

“Somewhere quiet, you said?” Ed murmurs, his lips brushing against Roy’s as he speaks. His eyes are as bright and intense and golden as Sol’s sun; and, like the sun, Roy’s always had trouble looking in them for too long without feeling like he’ll burn away inside. He lets himself look his fill now, and likes what he sees. He likes the burn.

Feeling giddy, he asks with a grin, “Your place or mine?”

They go to Roy’s place.

Turns out Ed doesn’t really have a place that isn’t the Fullmetal, and he doesn’t feel comfortable fucking someone in a ship that his brother’s consciousness inhabits a third of the time. Understandable, though Roy’s gonna fuss at him later about not at least having an apartment to retire to between missions. The Fullmetal is a barely space-worthy hunk of junk, held together with spit and rubber bands and the sheer determination of the Elric’s little mechanic friend that Ed still hasn’t been able to talk off of Earth. In Roy’s opinion, the less time Ed spends in it, the less likely he is to get tetanus. Or explode. Besides, Roy’s been to enough Grumman-mandated therapy appointments to know that having a healthy work-life balance is important, especially when your work revolves around killing people with little regulation or supervision. Another conversation for another time, when Roy isn’t about to combust from horny desperation.

Regardless, they go to Roy’s place, but he doesn’t wait for them to get there before he puts his mouth on Ed again. He can’t. He’s waited all day for this, why wait a second more? Maybe it feels like he’s been waiting even longer. He can barely make himself wait for the door to close on the hover taxi before he reaches out, dragging Ed into another heady kiss.

Two kisses in and Roy’s already addicted. Fuck. How is he ever going to get enough?

“This is a public taxi,” Ed protests as Roy crawls halfway into his lap, nipping and sucking at his throat. Though his protest doesn’t have much teeth, considering he lets Roy stay there and even puts his hands on his ass, squeezing Roy’s cheeks through his civvies with an air of reverence. Like he’s wanted to do this for a long time. Roy knows he has. Bratty little Elric’s been eyeing him for years, and Roy can’t wait to give him what he wants.

“They’re unmanned,” Roy points out, sneaking his hands beneath Ed’s shirt. God, the muscles on this guy– fuckin’ vanguards, always deceptively small because they only wear medium armor, but get the clothes off them and they’re cut like marble. He runs his fingers across Ed’s abs eagerly. “Automated. Nobody has any idea.”

“Security cameras,” Ed rebuts, even as he pushes Roy’s hips down against his own. Oh, god, he can feel Ed’s cock through their clothes, harder than before in the club and getting harder still.

He does have a good point about the security cameras, though.

Sitting upright and ignoring Ed’s groan of protest as it stops their kissing, Roy pulls up his omnitool and searches for the taxi’s wireless routing connection in the closest available networks; then, tapping his fingers, sends out a quick bit of code that Fuery’d written for him years ago. Thank god for engineer specs. There’s a warning beep over the taxi’s sound system, and then one of the dozen lights on its dashboard goes out.

“No more security cameras,” he tells Ed with a grin.

Ed stares at him in shock. “Did you hack the taxi? That is so illegal!”

“Good thing we’re Spectres,” Roy says, grin widening. (Though he will definitely get chewed out by Olivier again if she finds out, the woman’s been on a power trip ever since she took over C-Sec.) “Now nobody will know.”

Whether or not Ed genuinely takes offense to it, Roy doesn’t know and doesn’t really care. This is a tiny, insignificant crime against many that Roy’s committed in the name of the Spectres, and if Ed isn’t committing them himself by now, then he needs to learn. And how better to learn than by associating the behavior with something pleasurable? Instead of going back to kissing, he slides out of Ed’s lap and settles at the footwell. Thank god these taxis are designed to fit all species; if there’s enough room for a krogan to sit on the bench comfortably, there’s more than enough room for Roy to push his way between Ed’s knees on the floor.

Ed yelps in surprise, clearly not expecting Roy’s candor, and puts a hand on top of Roy’s head as if to push him away.

“Come on, Elric,” Roy sighs, nuzzling his cheek into the hard bulge at Ed’s crotch. “You can’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about this for ages.” He puts his mouth to the shape of it and sucks against Ed’s jeans. Feels it twitch against his lips even through the fabric. Sucks harder and licks it too, until his tongue feels dry, until drool pools at the bottom of his mouth to make up for it, until the denim is wet from his attention. God he wants the real thing in his mouth so bad. Seeing Ed so competent and powerful on the field today really did a number on him, he hasn’t been this hot for someone in a while.

Closing his eyes, Ed’s hand on his head stops pushing and instead threads his fingers through Roy’s hair. “It’s just– aren’t we going kind of fast–?”

Frowning, Roy pulls back and ignores Ed’s strangled –and hypocritical– noise of dismay. “Is this your first time taking someone home or something? Am I popping a cherry here?”

Ed’s eyes snap back open in outrage. “What?! No! I’ve gotten laid plenty, you bastard!”

It was the answer Roy had expected, Edward is a handsome young man in his prime after all, but he can’t help the jolt of jealousy that comes with the mental image of Ed fucking someone else. Someone else feeling Ed’s hard muscles, taking his thick cock, having his complete attention on them. It makes him want to be mean, a little. “Then why are you being such a baby about it? This isn’t a date, kid, this is me teaching you how real Spectres blow off steam after a mission.”

“Don’t fucking call me a k– aah–”

Roy, who’s finally gotten Ed’s zipper undone, pulls his cock from his briefs, not even bothering to unbuckle his pants. They’ll need to straighten everything back up once they get to Roy’s condo, anyway. He gives his new prize a few solid jerks, looking it over thoughtfully while Ed shivers above him; with nerves or overstimulation, he’s not sure. It’s circumcised –Earthers are so weird– and hefty, and even not quite full mast it’s a little more than a handful, not as long as Roy’s own but delightfully thick.

“R-Roy,” Ed mumbles, a beseeching little tremble in his voice. Like he doesn’t exactly know what he wants, but hopes that Roy can figure it out for both of them.

Luckily, Roy already knows just what to do.

Ed’s hand in his hair tightens deliciously when Roy puts his lips to the fat head of his cock and sucks, rolling his tongue across the underside. It’s already dripping and leaking, threatening to spill past his lips, and smells like sweat. Ed must not have taken a full shower after the mission, he certainly didn’t work up a sweat dancing. Maybe Roy wouldn’t have showered either, if he’d known this was going to happen. He tries to pretend he doesn’t kind of love the thought of Ed fucking him dirty. Covered in dust and sweat from battle. A little bloody, maybe. It makes him feel guilty to think, but Roy’s long accepted that he’s not a very good man. He jerks Ed’s cock with one hand, coaxing even more precome up, and braces himself on Ed’s thigh with the other. The hand in his hair turns into a fist.

With this encouragement, Ed seems to get past whatever hangups he’d had; using Roy’s hair as a handle, he slowly guides Roy’s mouth down. Moaning needily, Roy allows himself to be maneuvered, widening his jaw and relaxing his throat as the tip of Ed’s cock starts to poke into it. He pries his eyes open, not realizing they’d closed, and looks up to see Ed watching him swallow his prick with wide-eyed wonder. Ed drags him back up. Roy lets him. Ed pushes him back down. Roy lets him.

“Holy shit,” Ed breathes.

If his mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, Roy would be smirking. Still got it.

The longer Ed goes without getting direction or correction, the more assertive he gets– a minute or so later Roy is genuinely choking, cheeks hot and damp with tears and saliva, when Ed’s huffing and puffing above him starts to get louder and heavier, a groan building deep in his chest. Roy feels the cock on his tongue twitch and yanks his head back with a wet gasp. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as Ed, who’s had one hand in Roy’s hair and one lifted to hold onto the grab handle overhead, whines plaintively at the loss.

“What the fuck?” he asks, high-pitched and shaky, hand slipping through Roy’s hair as he watches him climb back up into his seat with a look of such offense that it makes Roy cough out a laugh. “I was–”

“Really close,” Roy finishes for him, clearing his battered throat. “I don’t want you finishing too early, Elric; I’ve got plans for this.” As he says it he reaches out and wraps a hand around Ed’s cock again, though not jerking it with the same speed or intent as he had been before. Just enough to tease.

“I could get it up again,” Ed argues with a pout, but notably doesn’t argue when Roy pulls him into a kiss. Their tongues meet, swapping spit and the salty tang of precome; Ed admirably doesn’t flinch at the taste, which more than anything makes Roy believe his earlier assertion that he’s gotten laid ‘plenty’.

Breaking off the kiss with a lick to Ed’s top lip as he leans back, still lazily jerking his cock, Roy asks with amusement, “Avina?” The taxi’s dashboard alights with blue as the VI’s running lights kick in. “How long until our destination?”

The blue lights dim and pulse as the VI calibrates, and then the smooth feminine voice of the machine answers, “Three minutes and forty-six seconds, Spectre Mustang.”

Roy looks back at Ed smugly, his eyes immediately dropping back down to Ed’s lips. “Think you can get it back up in three minutes, kid?”

“I told you,” Ed snaps, taking hold of the back of Roy’s neck and hauling him back in. His kisses are crushing, bruising, make Roy lose his concentration on the way he’s been playing with the cock in his hand and instead bringing his hands up to hold Ed’s face; Ed grabs his wrist before he can retake control and twists him forcefully, taking him by surprise, and flips their position so that now instead Roy is the one pressed into the seat, with Ed crawling on top of him. Ed’s knees come to either side of Roy’s hips as he brings his not inconsiderable bulk –fucking vanguards– down against Roy’s body; and then puts a hand against his chest, fingers splayed out and pressure against his diaphragm, holding him in place. It makes every instinct in Roy, finely trained and honed from years of staying on top of brawls to stay alive, flare in warning; he can feel the eezo in him twitching to throw out a warp. Only the knowledge that this is Edward, who Roy very literally trusts with his life, stays his hand; Ed’s not gonna hurt him, not in a way that lasts. Instead, Ed bears down on him, somehow still managing to look intimidating even with spit all over his face and his cock hanging out, and growls out, “Don’t call me kid.”

Roy stares up at him, eyes wide, and breathes out, “Yes, sir.”

It takes about three seconds for that to register, and Roy can tell when it does because Ed’s flush comes back with a vengeance, bright red and spreading from his cheeks to his ears, visible even in the dim taxi.

“You like that?” Roy asks, half-coy and half-sincere, because he genuinely can’t tell if Ed does or not. Considering the stunned look on his face, maybe Ed’s not even sure. “You like being sir for once, Elric?”

Ed sets his jaw; his hand on Roy’s chest fists into his shirt, his pupils dilate a little. Roy can only tell in the relative darkness of the vehicle’s night-mode because Ed’s eyes are bright no matter the lighting.

“You do,” he says, lips curling, entirely coy now that he’s been given an angle to work. “You want to be in charge of this, sweetheart? I’ll let you be in charge. I can be at your mercy. You can fuck me however you want, sir.”

Blinking, Ed swallows hard. “That’s– I thought you’d–” The stuttering is cute but Roy would really rather have those lips on his throat.

“Thought I’d what?” he asks with amusement, putting his own hand on Ed’s chest even while the younger Spectre still looms over him, trailing his fingers across Ed’s shirt. Too bad it’s not a button-up that Roy can just rip off of him– or maybe that’s a good thing, considering they’ll have to get out of the taxi soon– but he contents himself with running them down, down, down past his covered abs to where his cock still hangs, hard and heavy, out the front of his pants. Dragging his nails against the base and watching it twitch in response, he says over the sound of Ed sucking his breath in through his teeth, “Go on, sir, tell me what you thought I’d do.”

“I thought you’d want to fuck me,” Ed admits, easing his hold on Roy’s shirt.

Roy’s smile goes a little rueful. People always assume because he’s older, because he’s a Spectre, because he likes to be in charge–

“Maybe next time,” he says mildly, pretending he doesn’t notice Ed’s eyes going wide again at the assumption that this will happen more than once, “if you’re good, and I decide to keep you.”

Ed takes a deep, shuddering breath and then dives back in to kiss Roy once more, seeming overcome by the thought. He wasn’t exactly passive when they’d been making out before, even if he had let Roy take control for most of it, but now he seems more self-assured, more willing to push and press and take. And push and press and take he does, all of his weight bearing down on Roy as he kisses hard enough to take Roy’s own breath away, hands cupping either side of Roy’s head to hold him in place; he surrenders to it happily, one hand still playing with the base of Ed’s spit-damp cock as he runs the other up his back, feeling the muscles play beneath his shirt.

“Have you thought about it?” he mumbles against Ed’s lips as they part to breathe. “About fucking me? You must, seem so much more eager now, sir. When you think about it, do you push my face into the mattress? Make me beg for it? Do you make me scream, sir?”

“Christ,” Ed huffs. “I should have known you’d be a dirty talker, you fuckin’ pervert.”

Roy laughs and kisses him again, digging his hand beneath Ed’s ponytail and feeling the thick hair slip through his fingers. Teasingly, like he’s making an admission, he whispers, “I’ve thought about it. When I let myself daydream, you always make me scream.”

“Christ,” Ed hisses, more feelingly this time. He drops one hand to Roy’s crotch to paw at his zipper, any finesse lost in his eagerness to push Roy’s pants off and get at his prize, but he barely gets his fingers on the zipper’s tab before the taxi’s running lights flare again and the VI informs them over the speakers, “Arrived at your destination, Spectre Mustang.”

The taxi’s pulled up to his condomenium’s landing pad so smoothly that neither of them had even noticed, and they stare at each other in surprise at the sudden interruption for several seconds before Roy breaks the silence with a soft laugh. He shoos away Ed’s hand at his zipper; when he pushes lightly at Ed’s chest, Ed goes, standing up from where he’d been straddling Roy’s hips. Clearing his throat, Ed tucks his cock back into his pants and does his own zipper back up as Roy activates his omnitool to pay the taxi’s fare, which pings with a happy little mechanical noise. The door’s airlocks hiss and spit and then the hatch opens and Roy stumbles out, Ed hot on his heels.

Thankfully, his place is just upscale enough that the building’s landing pad is private instead of a public parking one, and this late in the night cycle there’s no one around to judge them as they clamber from the taxi, the both of them rumpled and red in the face. Outside now, Ed looks anxious and unsure again; Roy takes his hand and pulls him to the right building, threading their fingers together.

“Come on,” he says, tugging Ed along behind him. Before they reach the building’s doors he activates his omnitool again so he can just flash it at the scanner quickly for admittance. “I shouldn’t take out the security cameras here, I want to get my deposit back, but I’m only on the fifth floor so the elevator ride won’t be terrible.”

“Fifth floor?” Ed asks, looking around the lobby curiously. He’s no doubt clocking entrances and exits, cameras on the ceiling, possible makeshift weapons; Roy’s well familiar with the routine of familiarizing oneself with every new environment. The life of a Spectre often means trouble is around every corner, even when you think you’re safe. “Not a penthouse? Color me surprised.”

“Not a penthouse,” Roy says with a wry smile, jabbing a finger at the elevator button and tapping his foot impatiently until the doors open to admit them. “Not yet, anyway. I’ve been in the same place since my C-Sec days, and I figured I spend enough time on the Flame that it wouldn’t be worth the effort of moving.”

Ed nods in understanding, but thinking about it makes Roy’s chest ache, a little. Once he’s not a Spectre anymore, the Flame will probably be decommissioned. It’s technically government property, after all, just like him. His sexy little corvette ship that’s carried him all over the Terminus systems and even out into the Veil, that’s seen him through countless battles both professional and personal, might even be scrapped and pulled apart to retrofit newer ships. She’s an older model after all, especially compared to the turian-hybrid corvettes the Alliance has been pushing the last few years, though Roy’s done his best to keep her up to date. There are many pros and cons to his decision to leave the Spectres, and he won’t pretend that the potential fate of the Flame wasn’t a sticking point that kept him from pulling the trigger on resigning for a long time.

It’s just metal, he reminds himself with a quiet sigh as he watches the floor numbers tick up on the elevator’s display screen. Just metal and engines. A ship can’t feel abandoned, or betrayed. A ship can’t begrudge him for wanting more than this from his life. Maybe he can request that some of the materials be given to Ed, to be fitted onto the Fullmetal. Wouldn’t that be some irony.

Wouldn’t that be oddly appropriate.

“Hey,” Ed says, drawing him from his thoughts. His voice is cautious, almost hesitant, and when Roy turns to look at him in surprise, Ed’s brows are drawn and he’s biting the inside of his already kiss-swollen bottom lip. “We don’t have to– I mean, if you changed your mind or something, I can just walk you to your door and leave–”

“I’m sorry?” Roy asks, confused and admittedly a bit annoyed. They’re almost there.

Ed grimaces, lifting the hand Roy’s not holding to scratch at the back of his neck. The elevator pulls to a stop at Roy’s floor and the doors open again, but Ed doesn’t move for them. “You look… I dunno. Unhappy all of a sudden. If you’re, like, regretting this or whatever then we don’t gotta– like, it feels a little outta nowhere anyway, maybe we should–”

Roy smirks, tugging his mind from thoughts of the Flame and tugging Ed gently towards the elevator doors in turn. “Getting cold feet?”

Predictably, Ed bristles. “No! I just– if you are then I don’t want you to feel like we gotta do something just ‘cause you invited me.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Roy urges, smile widening as he tugs a little harder. Ed flushes bright red at the pet name, even worse than he did for sir earlier in the taxi. And unlike in the taxi, or in the club, the hallway’s lights are bright enough for Roy to see exactly how red he can get. He can’t wait to get Ed out of his clothes to see exactly how far down that red goes. “No cold feet here. Come out, before the doors close on us.”

With a little jolt, like he hadn’t realized, Ed lets himself be pulled from the elevator. Roy doesn’t let him go too much further before he pushes him against the hallway wall, leaning down to kiss him again and delighting in the inches he has on Ed’s height, even if they are scant. He’d poke fun at the brat for it, except he doesn’t want to sabotage himself on getting laid. Thankfully, Ed doesn’t notice how much Roy has to stoop; whatever nerves he had in the elevator, he lets Roy kiss them away now. He takes Roy’s sides in his hands, pulling forward until their hips meet and their hard cocks grind against each other. Roy can’t help but gasp a little and lose himself in the motion, pushing back. He’s been ignoring his own erection this whole time in favor of Ed’s and the pressure against his dick is exquisite.

“Can’t make you scream too loud,” Ed mumbles. His hands are still pulling Roy forward, as if any space between them is too much, as they veritably dry hump each other. “People above and below you, fifth floor.”

“If my neighbors complain tomorrow, I’ll show them your picture on the extranet,” Roy promises, smiling against Ed’s lips. “Nobody will blame me.”

They make out right there in the hallway for a minute or two before the heat and hunger in Roy’s groin becomes too much to tolerate and he yanks away with a gasp, spit connecting their mouths for a few seconds before breaking. This time Ed keeps pace with him rather than being pulled along behind, and when they reach Roy’s condo he presses against Roy’s back as he activates his omnitool once more to unlock the door, kissing the back of Roy’s neck and rubbing his sides and rocking his hips up into the muscle of Roy’s ass.

“Fuck, Ed,” Roy mumbles, stopping his graceless fumbling with his omnitool’s interface to instead brace against his still-locked door. He can feel Ed’s hard cock, remembers what it tasted like, the weight of it on his tongue. It feels unreal that this is actually happening after years of vague, aimless want.

“Thought I was sir,” Ed reminds him with a growl, biting the juncture of his shoulder and neck. “Open the fucking door, Roy, before I really give your neighbors something to complain about.”

“Oh,” Roy whispers with a shiver, grinding back. “Oh, oh, yes, sir.”

Opening his eyes, he swallows and pays a little better attention to what keys he’s pressing until his door unlocks with a cheerful beep. It wooshes open so quickly that Roy has to catch himself against the frame to avoid falling in; Ed’s hands on his hips steady him, chase him as he enters the condo.

It’s a studio, decently sized but still definitely a bachelor pad, with the kitchen bleeding into the living space bleeding into the bedroom and the only enclosed space being the bathroom; roominess wasn’t really his priority on a C-Sec salary, and most of his life is spent on the Flame, but it’s still nice to have a place to escape to when the constant company of his fireteam gets a little overbearing. Ease of access also wasn’t exactly his intention, but the fact that he can see his bed from the front door and there isn’t that far to go is a definite bonus. Ed seems to agree, because they’ve crossed the distance in record time, and before Roy can even really catch his bearings he’s been shoved onto the mattress, which he falls face-first into with a grunt of surprise.

“Lube?” Ed asks, busily working at Roy’s pants. The angle is awkward, maybe the little shit should have let him take them off before pushing him on his front, but instead of complaining Roy just gets his knees under him and lifts his hips before reaching down to help him. Between the two of them they manage to bully Roy’s pants and briefs off, and then his ass is out in the open. He should have expected Ed to immediately grab his cheeks and squeeze, but somehow he still jumps at the forceful grip anyway.

Pointing with one hand and getting the other elbow beneath him, he breaths out, “Bedside table, second dra– oh, Edward, fuck–”

He definitely wasn’t expecting Ed to pull his cheeks apart and dive in, the flat of his tongue lapping at Roy’s asshole with a fervor that puts his own earlier blowjob to shame. Ed moans loudly and openly as he licks, the vibration of the vocalization hot against Roy’s sensitive hole, and after a few seconds of this uses his thumbs to pull either side of it apart so he can get even deeper. Roy can feel his jaw working as he licks; it’s all he can do not to buck against that hot mouth, feeling the inadvertent scrape of teeth against the rim when Ed sucks. He can’t stop himself from writhing in place and gasping needily, “Ed, please, oh god– fuck– fuck, sir–”

His cock is hanging hard and full beneath him and he reaches beneath himself to give it a good tug, only for Ed’s nails to dig painfully into the globes of his ass. Hot damp breath puffs against his asshole as Ed pulls away to snap, “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

“No–”

There’s the sound of wet suction, and then a spit-covered thumb digs into his barely loosened hole. The pleasure only barely overshadows the pain, and Roy feels his back arch up into it needily. Holy shit, how can Ed read him so well, how can he know exactly what Roy likes– “Then don’t fucking touch yourself.”

“Yessir,” Roy moans, pushing back against the thumb in his ass. He moans again, more pitifully, when the thumb withdraws, but thankfully it’s quickly replaced with Ed’s tongue once more, warm and wet and squirming at his rim. Air gusts against his crack in short hard busts as Ed breathes in and out through his nose. Oh, god, Roy wishes he could see. When he peeks beneath himself, he can see that past his own hard, drooling cock, Ed has pulled his dick back out and is humping artlessly into the edge of the mattress, his hands too busy holding Roy’s asscheeks apart to spare a touch to himself.

God, okay, yes, he can definitely believe that Ed’s had sex before now. Enough to be more than practiced, enough to be great, enough that the fact that he won’t let Roy touch himself is all that keeps him from coming. Especially when Ed pulls back after a minute or two of eating him out like his ass is a meal he’s been craving, and spits into the loose ring of muscle.

“Lube?” Ed says again, less a question this time and more a reminder. Weakly, his muscles twitching and limp, Roy points again. He feels the mattress dip and lift as Ed moves, but he can’t pick his head up enough to watch. His cock is dripping a steady stream of pre-come; fuck changing the linens in the morning, he might need new sheets entirely after this.

He hears the rustle of clothing, fabric dropping as Ed undresses himself. Then hears the drawers open and then close, hears the pop of the lube cap, and then there’s a hand at his hip shoving him. He falls sideways onto the bed with a grunt of surprise, no longer with his ass in the air, and gets one elbow under him to look at Ed with affront.

Then he stares, mouth watering, at the way Ed is stroking his thick cock, lube shining on his knuckles as he coats himself with it.

He’s a vision naked, all tanned and gold somehow even though he spends just as much time as Roy out in space with no sunlight around. His muscles are just as defined as they’d felt to be beneath Roy’s questing hands earlier. If he weren’t so boneless from the eating out of a lifetime, he’d pull himself forward to lick up and down those abs. There’s only a slight visible difference at Ed’s right shoulder and left thigh that tells Roy where the real skin ends and the synthetic skin covering his cybernetics starts, the flesh there pale and somewhat puckered like a scar. But otherwise it blends in near seamlessly, such that if Roy didn’t know they were cybernetic, he wouldn’t be able to tell– Roy mentally reevaluates his opinion of Ed’s “little mechanic friend” back on Earth.

“Do you want to do it, or me?” Ed asks, dragging his attention away; Roy lifts his head and finds Ed staring back at him, sweat beading on his brow and his mouth and chin glistening with spit, lips swollen. Fuck. Fuck. He’s beautiful. Roy knows if he tells him that that Ed will bitch and moan that he’s strong and handsome, not beautiful, but he really is. He’s been beautiful from day one, when he was a little too young still for Roy to be noticing things like that but beautiful enough that he’d noticed anyway.

“What?” Roy croaks, uncomprehending. He’s just had his higher brain functions licked out through his asshole, he thinks he’s allowed a little confusion.

When Ed nods down at something on the bed, Roy glances at it to see the bottle of lube. Oh. Right.

Heaving himself upright, he shucks his own clothes, his shirt briefly getting caught around his shoulders as he tugs it off, before reaching for the lube. “I’ll do it. Come on, lay back on the bed. I want to ride you.” The truth is that he wouldn’t hate getting some control back; he’d mostly been teasing Ed about the whole sir thing, but he’s a little surprised by how effortlessly Ed picked it up and ran with it, considering his earlier hesitation to have Roy so much as lean against him at the club.

Ed pauses where he’s stroking himself and narrows his eyes at Roy thoughtfully, as if he’s already cottoned on to Roy’s bid for control. Or maybe he was expecting it.

“Come on, sir,” Roy murmurs, pulling his knees under him to kneel on the bed and coating his fingers in lube. He reaches behind himself, sucks a breath in through his teeth as his fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his licked-out hole. “Let me give you a show.”

Ed only hesitates for a second more before he wavers, swallowing hard as he settles onto the bed, pulling his legs up and sitting with his back to the headboard. His eyes go wide again, his lips part as if in awe, as Roy sidles forward to sit astride Ed’s hips, straddling him once more like he had in the taxi. The way Ed gives up control so easily, control that a mere moment ago he’d seemed determined to keep, makes Roy wonder if he isn’t just pretending to be as confident as he seems, regardless of how well he’d pleasured Roy with his mouth earlier. If maybe he’s just trying to be Sir because he thinks that’s what Roy wants.

Then Roy balances himself with a hand on Ed’s raised knee and sinks two fingers into his hole and forgets to wonder.

It’s been some time since he’s done this; hasn’t felt the desire to do it on his own in a while, hasn’t had a partner who made him feel like it was worth the trouble for even longer. Another side effect of closing in on forty, just like not dancing much these days. He picks people up much less often than he used to, and usually contents himself with letting whoever his beau is for the night fuck his thighs. But Ed, he knows, will be worth the trouble. Ed will make it good.

It takes less time than it usually does to make himself relax enough to enjoy it; Ed’s mouth had definitely warmed him up, put him in the mood. It only takes a few minutes before the stinging burn inside subsides into something pleasurable. The way Ed is petting up and down his sides and stomach, staring at him with something approaching awe, doesn’t hurt either.

By the time Roy’s loosened himself up enough that the stretch of two fingers doesn’t make him wince, Ed’s grown more bold with his exploration of Roy’s torso, until he’s squeezing against Roy’s own not-unimpressive pectorals. His hands are fucking heavenly spreading against Roy’s skin: callouses at the palms and the trigger fingers from his shotgun that drag just right; the tickle-tang of eezo in his flesh hand that the eezo in Roy’s own blood reacts to, like static electricity, a sensation that comes part and parcel with powerful biotics like the two of them; the quiet, barely-noticable thrum of cybernetics in his right one, the gentle vibration of the intricate machine beneath his synth-skin, so slight that it doesn’t even affect his aim when he sights his gun. His thumbs drag over his nipples, press, pinch, pull. There’s so much sensation when he touches Roy, and yet somehow still not enough.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Ed blurts, right as Roy’s worked himself past the burn enough to add a third finger. His face immediately flushes, seeming more embarrassed by the statement than the fact that they’re both naked and Roy’s fingering himself in Ed’s lap.

Still, it’s… flattering. It’s really flattering. Because he knows Ed, knows how honest and earnest the young man is, and knows that means he means it.

“Yeah?” he asks, putting a little more effort into stretching himself open, grinding his hard cock down onto Ed’s. “You think I’m pretty, sir?”

Ed tosses his head to the side, flustered, even as he continues to run his thumbs across Roy’s nipples. “You know you are,” he huffs.

“I like to hear it,” Roy tells him with a smile, only a little taunting. “Come on, sir, tell me I’m pretty. Tell me I’m pretty in your lap, riding your dick.”

“You’re not yet,” Ed points out. Despite his apparent annoyance with Roy’s teasing, he still holds him steady when Roy leans forward and braces a hand on the bed, changing the angle so he can get deeper, nearly pressing their chests together from how far over he’s leaning now.

“Can you–” Roy gasps, hanging his head as his fingers work faster, harder, more urgently. He should take his time with this, it’s been a while since he’s been fucked, but god he just wants Ed inside him already. “–lube–?”

Ed hurries to uncap the bottle and reach around Roy’s back, pouring some of it down his crack. It’s cold and tacky and makes him flinch, but it’s definitely effective, and the next time he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in he can go even further. His forehead settles against Ed’s collarbone as he breathes harshly, his hand working into his ass hard enough that his fingers are starting to cramp, that he can feel his wrist straining from the angle. Fuck, maybe he should have let Ed finger him after all, obviously the kid knows what he’s doing based off how well he’d eaten Roy out earlier–

“You are though,” Ed says abruptly, interrupting his thoughts. When Roy lifts his head in bleary confusion to look at him, one of Ed’s hands comes up to frame his face, brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Ed’s gaze jumps from Roy’s, to his lips, to over his shoulder where he can surely see the way Roy’s fingers work into his ass. His eyes are wide and dark, sun-spun gold nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils. Like there isn’t a single part of this he wants to miss. “Pretty. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, Roy, I–”

There’s something a little too vulnerable in the words and the look in his eyes, something a little too bare; pulling his fingers out with a wet sound, Roy surges forward to kiss him, cutting him off before he can potentially ruin this with something more complicated than either of them can handle. Ed lets him. Their lips slide together and Ed’s hands both sink into Roy’s hair, clutching him so close that breathing between the kisses is difficult. Whether it’s lack of oxygen making Ed’s head fuzzy, the way it kind of is Roy’s, or just plain distraction, he doesn’t seem to notice how Roy is knee-walking his way up the bed, inch by inch, so that when he sits up his ass is over Ed’s groin instead of his thighs. Ed sucks in a breath of surprise and tosses his head back, hissing a curse between clenched teeth, as Roy takes his cock in hand and aims, sinking down. It’s slow going —rushed prep and a thick dick don’t play well together, even ignoring how long it’s been since Roy’s taken it up the ass— but Ed stays still so that Roy can adjust at his own pace, even though the muscles in his navel and thighs are twitching with the obvious need to thrust upwards into the tight heat.

“God, Ed,” Roy moans, bracing his hands against Ed’s stomach as he finally works himself all the way down, his asscheeks flush to Ed’s thighs. “Fuck. You feel so good, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” Ed asks, his nails digging into Roy’s hips. Unlike Roy asking the same thing earlier, he sounds genuinely curious, not gloating. “‘S not— you good? ‘S not too much?”

“Perfect,” Roy promises. He rocks his hips, feeling the cock inside him throb as he clenches down. Slowly he lifts his hips, letting it slide halfway out, and then drops back down. His ass meets Ed’s thighs with a clap of sweaty skin. He can’t help the moan that the motion drags out of him. He’s so full, Ed’s so thick, it’s so hot. He already knows this won’t last long enough, already knows this can’t be the only time he has Ed inside him. There will have to be more. He needs more. “Yeah, Ed, it’s perfect. Come on, sir, you can— move, honey, use me—”

Ed takes the command to heart. His grip on Roy’s hips tightens, and the next time Roy lifts himself up Ed locks his elbows, holding him in place halfway seated. Then he drives his own hips up, thrusting back into Roy hard. The impact shocks a loud, throaty moan out of him, taking his breath away; but Ed doesn’t let up, and just as quickly as he’d pushed in he pulls back out, and then pushes in again, and then out again, and then back in, in such rapid and forceful succession that Roy’s moaning becomes stuttered and gasping. He can feel Ed’s balls slapping against his ass as Ed holds him still to fuck up into him, the younger man’s jaw set into a tense rictus of concentration. The thrusting is so powerful that it pushes Roy off balance a little, and with a cry he has to throw a hand out to brace himself on the mattress beside Ed’s head. It changes the angle inside him and now the fat head of Ed’s cock rubs against his prostate with every movement, just constant stimulation, until he’s screaming from it, his thighs quaking against Ed’s firm hold.

Instead of the show he’d meant to put on with riding Ed, instead of the control he’d tried to wrestle back, Roy somehow feels more at Ed’s mercy than he would have if they were in missionary.

Fucking vanguards.

When Ed touches his cock, it’s over in seconds. Between the pummeling assault on his prostate and those calloused fingers wrapping around his length, that sure and steady grip, Roy never stood a chance; he bucks up twice into the hand that’s circled him and then comes all over the both of them with a shaky cry, muscles spasming as his prick jumps and pulses come down Ed’s navel. Ed groans, loud and long, as Roy’s ass clenches and squeezes around him. The neighbors are definitely going to complain tomorrow.

It takes a minute for Roy to catch his breath, leaning forward heavily until his forehead is pressed to Ed’s own heaving chest. Between the firefight earlier and the dancing in the club and the having his ass pounded, his entire body feels sore. He knows he’ll be as stiff as a board tomorrow. Reason number one hundred and whatever to retire before he fucks his body up irreparably doing this job. There have been so few human Spectres that there isn’t enough of a pool to draw an average career lifespan from; especially because the vast majority of them die in the field. Roy might be one of the few Spectres of any species to leave alive and of his own volition, and not be medically discharged from the position after a life-altering injury.

Anyway. Thoughts for later.

With a satisfied sigh, Roy pushes himself back upright and looks down at Ed. And fuck. What a sight to see.

Ed is staring up at him, golden eyes wild and wide and darting about as if he doesn’t know which part of Roy he wants to look at more: his face, his chest, his slowly softening cock. His teeth are bared from the force of will it’s surely taking him to keep from thrusting into Roy again, considering he’s still hard and throbbing inside Roy’s ass. His hair, loose and tangled, splays around him like a halo, and his grip on Roy’s hips will almost certainly leave bruises. Roy can’t wait to admire them in the mirror later.

He thinks, fuzzy and warm with post-orgasm bliss, that he wouldn’t mind seeing Ed like this, strung out and wound up, on a regular basis.

Daily, maybe. That might be nice.

“Good sir,” he croons, running his hands across Ed’s chest. He can feel the cock in his ass twitch eagerly at the praise. “Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart. You treated me so well.”

Ed swallows and nods jerkily, his thumbs rubbing at Roy’s hips. “You— you feel good too.”

Roy leans down a little to kiss him, once again causing Ed’s cock inside him to brush against his prostate. He feels his own dick do a half-hearted little jump and drool out some more come at the touch. He sucks languidly at Ed’s bottom lip for a few seconds before deciding he’s played with the poor guy enough and sits back up in Ed’s lap, rocking down into the cradle of his hips.

“You want to come inside me, sir?” he asks, keeping the swivel of his hips slow and purposeful as he rides Ed’s dick. He lifts one hand from Ed’s chest to touch at his own softening cock, playing with the tip even though he knows he’s done himself. “You want to fuck me full?”

“Yeah,” Ed pants, breathing out hard through his open mouth. “Yeah, I do, fuck–”

“Alright,” Roy says warmly. “I think I promised you a show.”

With a grunt he pulls off of Ed’s cock and, ignoring his partner’s startled whine of dismay at the loss, twists in place, shifting his knees until he’s turned around in Ed’s lap and his back is facing him. Reaching behind him once more, he guides Ed’s hefty cock back into his loose hole; the slide down goes much easier this time now that he’s been fucked open. Shivering out a sigh, Roy rocks gently for a few seconds just to catch his bearings. Then he places his hands on Ed’s knees and, using them for leverage, lifts himself up and slams back down. It’s half painful now that he’s come himself, getting only the aftersparks of pleasure, but it’s worth it for the way Ed shouts. After a few thrusts, he glances over his shoulder to see Ed’s eyes locked on to where his cock sinks into Roy’s ass, his gaze just as intense as when he’s in combat. Turning back around, he reaches past his own prick to fondle Ed’s balls, feeling the hot and heavy weight of them, drawn up close as he gets closer to orgasm.

“Roy–” Ed chokes out in warning, his fingers digging bruises into Roy’s sides.

“Come on, Ed, give it to me–”

Ed thrusts up twice and then stills with a chesty groan, loud and low, as his cock pulses inside Roy’s ass. Roy bites his lip, pinching one of his nipples lightly to try and prolong the hedonistic pleasure even as his own dick is now fully soft; in his other hand, Ed’s testicles throb as they’re emptied. Ed’s noisy when he comes, not shouting the way that Roy did but rather moaning and sighing constantly as his hips work and shift to get as close as possible, unable to keep still. Roy squeezes his balls gently, rhythmically, in time to Ed’s thrusts, until finally Ed goes limp with a final sigh of satisfaction, even his hands falling from where they’d been holding tight to Roy’s hips. He lays there, breathing heavily, for several long seconds before grunting out, “Holy shit.”

“Good?” Roy asks, amused, looking over his shoulder once more; Ed’s got an arm thrown over his eyes now, but at the question he lifts his free hand to give Roy a pat on the ass, as if to say ‘job well done’.

Rolling his eyes at the answer, Roy takes a breath to steady himself before pulling himself off of Ed’s cock. He can feel come dripping from him as he throws a knee over Ed’s hips to slide off the edge of the bed and stand on shaky legs.

“Where’y’goin’?” Ed mumbles, all one word, his Kansan accent coming out thicker than it’s been since the day Roy met him.

“Bathroom,” Roy says, pausing where he stands to stretch his arms above his head and revel in the pull of his muscles. Nothing makes him feel better after a mission than a good lay. “Need to clean up.”

He flinches when an arm wraps around his waist from behind, pulling him backwards. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he sits before he can be pulled off his feet. A warm, firm chest presses against his side; Ed has sat up from his easy lounge to move in close and whisper in Roy’s ear, “Why bother? I told you–” He reaches around Roy to rub the heel of his hand down onto his sticky crotch, pressing against Roy’s soft dick which nonetheless twitches admirably in response despite having just come. “–I can get it up again, fast.”

He takes Roy’s earlobe between his teeth and, pushing the heel of his hand against Roy’s dick, uses the arm around his middle to haul him back onto the mattress. Roy collapses backwards onto it bonelessly, too surprised to struggle, and then Ed is crawling over him on all fours so he can settle in to mouth at the base of his cock, his loose hair spilling over his shoulders to fall in a curtain and tickle at Roy’s thighs; his own prick hangs, only half-hard but already heavy, directly above Roy’s face.

Roy thinks, not for the first time and likely not for the last, that this kid might well be the death of him.

It takes another hour and another orgasm, this time with Roy being fucked from behind and having his face shoved into the pillow, before Ed deems him used enough for his satisfaction. Since Roy’s had any remaining energy plowed out of him, Ed’s the one who ends up cleaning them both up. It’s as Ed is carefully wiping a cloth along the inside of Roy’s thighs that he finally asks, an odd sort of caution to his voice, “Why tonight?”

Roy, who’s half-asleep and nestled into the pillow he’d only recently been screaming into (he’ll send out apology fruit baskets or something for his neighbors), hums out a noise of question, his eyes still closed. “Why tonight, what?” he asks, even though he’s pretty sure he knows.

“Come on,” Ed says with a huff, though his touch with the cloth between Roy’s legs stays gentle even through his apparent frustration. “You know what. We’ve worked together for years and have been pretending we weren’t eye-fucking each other for at least half that time, and I figured we’d just keep doing that until one of us was in a casket or something– what was different tonight that made you decide to do something about it?”

Roy opens his eyes. He blinks at the wall blearily a couple of times, then focuses his gaze on Ed. Poor kid’s got a blush on his face the size of the Citadel. But he makes and holds eye contact regardless, brave in the face of his own embarrassment. A kid compared to Roy and what Roy’s been through, but twice the man nonetheless.

Sometimes Roy’s worried he’s ruined him.

“You’re handsome,” Roy says with a grin, and is delighted to see that blush go even darker. “And you were all pent up, and so was I. I told you, it’s good stress relief. Always helps work off tension after a rough mission. How do you feel now?”

(It is easier to say this than it is the truth: that Roy’s days in the Spectres are numbered, and the only thing that made Roy brave tonight was the knowledge that his opportunity to take what he wanted after years of silently pretending he didn’t want it was slipping through his fingers and will soon be out of reach. If they fuck as Spectres, it’s almost expected. Spectres do whatever they want, including each other. But if something happens after Roy’s inducted into the Counsel… well, there goes his seat. He doesn’t say any of that, because he knows Ed won’t like that answer.)

Ed finally glances away, ducking his head so his long, sweaty hair hides his face. Roy lifts a leg and nudges him in the side with a knee teasingly. “Come on, Elric. You feel good now, don’t you? Had some fun, blew off some steam?”

When Ed stays silent, Roy pulls his knee up with a grunt to show off his hole, still loose enough to be leaking come. He slips his middle finger in with a sigh, amazed even now by how easily it slides in, and sighs, “Feels like you had fun to me.”

“Oh my god,” Ed says with a begrudging laugh, flicking hair out of his face to glare at Roy without any real anger. “Yes, bastard, I feel good. You were right. That was… way better than bad drinks and shitty music in a horrible club owned by a gangster we all pretend we don’t know about. What a high fuckin’ bar to reach. Now keep your leg up there so I can wipe your ass, you big baby. Unless you want to fall asleep dripping all over your stupid sheets.”

“By all means,” Roy yawns, pulling his finger out and hooking an arm beneath his knee to hold himself open, “wipe away.”

It’s hard to be embarrassed about having his ass on display, considering how thoroughly Ed had acquainted himself with it earlier. And it’s admittedly pretty nice to have someone else taking care of him afterwards; it’s been a long time since he’s had a partner to do this with regularly, and usually when he has one night stands either they leave or he kicks them out before he’s thought to clean up. But Ed is being gentle despite his normally abrasive nature, and after years of handling things by himself there’s something soothing to indulging in shared aftercare.

“…who do you usually do it with?” Ed asks, which sort of fucks up the nice relaxing feeling of being taken care of, in an admittedly comical way. It’s just, right now? Really? While Roy’s asshole is still out and everything? “Blow off steam, I mean.”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Roy says wryly, dropping his leg and making himself comfortable again once Ed’s done. Ed looks away again, brows furrowed; he must not like that answer. Roy bites his lip, debating, and then decides to ruin his own carefully-cultivated reputation by admitting, “I don’t do this as often as you probably think I do. Tonight with you is the first time I’ve taken someone home in… a while.”

“Oh,” Ed says. He’s still facing away, but Roy can see a small, pleased upwards curl of his lips. Brat. “Cool. Um, me too. I don’t… blow off steam like this that much, either.”

“That’s a shame,” Roy tells him honestly, trying to tease out that grin again. “You’re very good at it. Maybe you should do it more often, you’re depriving people the galaxy over.”

It works: Ed’s smile widens and he shoves at Roy’s knee. “Shut up! God. You’re so weird.”

“Your taste must be skewed then,” he says, feeling warm and sated right down to the tips of his toes. “You fucked me, after all.”

“Yeah,” Ed agrees easily. He tosses the damp cloth he was using to clean Roy with in the direction of the laundry hamper, then turns back to Roy and climbs over him. Roy sits up a little, intrigued; he meets Ed halfway when the younger man leans down for a kiss. He tastes like spit and come and cock, delicious in its depravity; Roy opens his mouth for more. He doesn’t think he can take another round tonight, not if he wants to report in in the morning without limping the entire time, but the all-consuming way that Ed kisses makes a solid case for trying. When Ed pulls away again to speak, it’s all Roy can do not to chase him. “So what are we now? Like, are we doing this again, or…”

Roy pauses. It’s a good question. The problem is the answer right now is very simple, but in a year once Roy’s finished his tutelage under Grumman and has officially tendered his resignation as a Spectre and stepped into the councilor’s seat, it’s going to get infinitely more complicated. And he still needs to tell Ed that eventually. For some reason he feels like it should come from him, and not a memo on Ed’s omnitool, or from gossip around the proverbial Spectre watercooler.

But not now. Not tonight. Not when they’re not arguing for once, and Ed has made him feel so good. Just for tonight Roy will let himself be selfish and give them both what they want.

“We’re coworkers, mostly,” he says softly, running a hand through Ed’s hair. “Friends, sometimes. When you’re not being a brat.” Ed bites his lip in retaliation, and Roy tightens the hand in Ed’s hair into a fist. The moment hangs in the air, the both of them waiting for the other to take it a step further; when neither pushes, they both relent and just kiss again, soft instead of violent. “As for doing it again… I don’t know, Edward. We’re not usually in the same part of the galaxy for longer than a few hours at a time. It’s best not to try and plan things like this.” He hesitates, then continues carefully, feeling like he’s bringing down an axe, “...or put labels on it.”

Ed is quiet for a long moment, seeming to think that over, though his expression is so impassive it’s difficult to tell what he’s thinking. A rarity, considering he’s a man who typically wears his heart on his sleeve. Finally he nods slowly and says, “Okay… no labels. I can do that.”

“It’s just easier that way,” Roy explains, and tries to pretend he’s not making up excuses. “With this job, it can be difficult to–”

“I get it,” Ed interrupts, a smile tilting at his lips again. Even this close it’s hard to tell if it’s genuine or not. “I know. It’s just blowing off steam.”

“We could meet up between missions,” Roy suggests, trying to soften a blow he’s not even sure he’s struck. Ed seems so… neutral. Casual. Unbothered. It’s entirely possible he actually doesn’t care about labels at all, and Roy’s the only one worried about them. In fact, Roy didn’t even realize how worried about them he was until Ed seemed to shrug them off so easily himself. “Grumman’s got me on protection detail for a while, but I know you’re out in the Terminus a lot, I’m sure I could pick up something near Omega.”

“Shit’s always happening in Omega,” Ed agrees, easily enough that Roy feels a little less guilty over something he’s still not certain he understands. “So… that’s the plan? To not plan. Just meet up if we can, like ships passing in the night.”

“If you like,” Roy says, still feeling a bit off balance. He’d been so sure that Ed would try to fight him about it, or at least look the slightest bit disappointed. For some reason, the thought that Ed apparently hadn’t even considered a relationship makes Roy feel… Clearing his throat, he continues, “I would like to do this again because I had fun, but– I understand if you wouldn’t”

Ed looks him over, as if searching for something in his face. Roy’s not sure what he’s looking for, or if he finds it; either way, after a few seconds he quirks a wry smile.

“Well, you know what they say,” he says. “Any port in a storm.”