ownership

One perfectly good reason for the desire to hold the position of Fuhrer of Amestris would be to have no equals in rank to humour. This was the line of thinking that went through the head of General Roy Mustang while he walked away from General Smythe. Smythe was an idiot and deserved to be punched in the face, but there were things one just didn't do to one's peers. Damn. Still.

The day had begun like most of its kind: slow. Getting up reluctantly, making some haste to get to work at least moderately on time, avoiding the /looks/ of Major Hawkeye. Coffee and a bit of paperwork until lunch. Eating a sandwich in a quiet little café. On his way back to his desk he ran into General Smythe, recent transfer from some backwater station out West and, as it turned out, the type to listen to gossip.

"I have heard," Smyhte said, lounging against a desk, "you have quite the reputation in the sack."

"You should not rely on intelligence from the bathroom walls," Roy said, not unkindly. He had conversations like these a thousand times, ranging from requests for advice to insinuations about his current situation. He tended to hear the other party out before jumping to conclusions.

Smyhte ducked his head, still a youngish man, not unattractive in a lanky, weedy way.
"I might be interested," he said deadpan.

Roy quirked an eyebrow, the only outward sign of his perturbance. Subtle the man was not. Good grief. Still, it might be a set up of some kind.
"Rather forward," he remarked, grade four chilly: take care of your tongue.

"Seriously," Smythe said and actually winked. "Anytime, just say the word."

"Thanks for the offer, but no," Roy nodded. "Not interested, no offence. I'm in a relationship these days. Committed, you know."
He wasn't harsh, no need for that but he really didn't want to have this conversation with this man. Wasn't it a blessing to be able to hide behind his relationship for once?

"I heard," Smyhte nodded, oblivious as well as a gossiper. "But he travels a lot, right? In fact he is away right now, so you can do as you please?"

Unbelievable cheek or ice-cold challenge? Roy looked as bland as possible.
"Right, and it pleases me to be faithful," he drawled.

Smythe chuckled.
"I did hear you were whipped but I didn't believe it," he managed.

Just wonderful. What in hell did it take to get rid of this idiot? And what exactly had the man 'heard'?
He smiled sadly, shaking his head.
"One day you might meet some-one special," he drawled. "I sincerely hope you will, and then you may understand what it's like to just not want to jeopardise what you've got."
He nodded once for emphasis, still smiling blandly and walked out.


He sat behind his desk craftily ignoring the mountain of paperwork, contemptuous at first, with a sprinkling of pity. As if being committed to your relationship was a weakness! Smythe obviously had never met Edward, otherwise he wouldn't talk such rot.

He had to dismiss the possibility of a conspiracy. That would mean his intelligence on the various factions was failing to such an extent he'd deserve to be taken down. Wouldn't do to be too complacent though, but he could ignore that for the time being. That left a crude attempt at a come on. He should be flattered, really, but all he could muster was a certain distaste. He didn't have to appreciate being proposed like some hard up cadet.

During the long, otherwise incredibly dull afternoon, a tiny speck of doubt filtered through his consciousness. It was a fact that Ed was very dominant, it was often so much easier to give in, to let him have his way rather than prepare for endless, exhausting battle. They'd never stop fighting. Ed didn't grasp elusive concepts like giving in or strategic retreat. The treacherous thoughts were dismissed with a toss of his head. He was Roy Mustang, dammit. Not some sad push-over. Ed loved him! There was no doubt whatsoever about that.


The house /felt/ different when he entered his front-door in the evening. There was a vibrancy, a kind of energy in its atmosphere that announced Ed's return before he opened the door to the living-room and was greeted with a cheerful "Hi there, bastard!"

"My love," he countered without missing a beat and bend over the vision of gold sprawled on the couch for a deep and lingering kiss.

Roy felt an urgent, shameful urge to prove himself, to show he was able to have it his way. He put a hand on the neck of his lover and kissed him hard. Ed grinned into his mouth, enjoying the challenge, throwing himself into the kiss with the determination that was so very characteristic for him. And if Roy might not have expected this response he didn't show it, he responded in kind, leading to an energetic, joyful tongue-wrestling match, that was, frankly, /hot/. Ed was pleased to be home, glad to see him again and horny as hell, ready to go at it any way Roy suggested. He groaned, wrapping his mismatched arms around his lover's back as he ground his hips into Roy's.


Ed was twenty now, and he'd blossomed spectacularly after the end of his quest. His brother was safe and sound, puttering away in Risembool. Ed still paid lip service to the cause of restoring his limbs but it was very much Al's project. He had been curiously reluctant at the time to leave Central or to sever bonds with the Military until Al had forced him to come out with his reasons: he had wanted to stay with Roy, who had carefully been avoiding the subject for fear of turning out to be a perverted letch. Ed however, once committed to a cause was unstoppable. Roy /was/ interested so what could possibly stop them? And Roy was only a flesh and blood man, unable to withstand the unrelenting onslaught. Ed everywhere. Ed furious if he did as much as take someone out for a cup of coffee. Roy had valiantly tried to do what he thought was right, even introduced Edward to likely candidates. That hadn't gone over well. Ed wanted him, him, him and fuck, and damn. In the end Roy had caved, had felt like a dog until he had given over, allowed himself to enjoy what he'd got so undeservedly. That had been two years ago. Time had proven Edward right.


Roy reached for the lube under his pillow and managed to get some on his fingers. Ed's flesh hand meanwhile had found his lover's dick and was stroking that to unbearable hardness with his thumb, causing said lover to lose some cognitive functions. That was no good, Roy wanted to be in control, wanted to have his way. He moved Ed's hand from his cock and put in on the younger man's own, pumping it with both their hands, slick with Roy's pre-cum.

"I want you," Roy murmured against his lover's mouth, as he moved his hand, with firm, long strokes. Ed grunted, pressed himself against Roy and threw his head backward to expose his throat. Roy took the invitation, nipped under the chin, swirled his tongue around in the hollow at the base of his throat and sucked at the collarbone. He put his other hand on Ed's firm buttock, kneading it for a bit before letting his finger slide in the cleft.

"I'm going to fuck you," he panted, holding on to the threads of his coherence with great effort as Ed explored his neck, his shoulders with his tongue.

"Less talk, more fuck," Ed growled, allowing his tongue only the brief respite necessary to get the words out before he went back to devouring Roy one lick at the time.

He felt exhilaration. His brand of subtle manipulation was proving its worth once again and fed his self-confidence. He sought Ed's anus and worked it with his fingers, trying al the tricks he knew that made Ed writhe and gasp.

As he penetrated the young man, as Ed gasped and panted beneath him, he couldn't help his growl. The electric heat, the sheer pleasure drove all thoughts, all ideas from his head. He only existed in the now, where everything he ever wanted was happening. This was /Ed/, his lover, whose hot breath on his neck drove him wild. Ed, arched back, gritted teeth, not wanting to make a noise, he was irresistible. His hands, cold and hot, on Roy's back, panting. Climax of light and stars. Afterwards they twined in each others arms, nuzzling and smiling, thoughts about who owned who completely forgotten.


The day began like most of it's kind: waking up with a deep sense of satisfaction, Ed snoring softly in his arms, his scent invigorating, powering the energy needed to face the day. Stretching and not quite accidentally waking Ed, who blinked drowsily, and yawned, and wiggled. Roy grinned at the spectacle, rising.

"I'm going to make us some coffee," he announced.

Ed grunted in response but it did have a positive ring to it. He rolled over in the spot Roy has vacated and inhaled, eyes closed, a slight smile on his lips.


After a pleasant lunch together, they separated at the front stairs, Roy going to his office, Ed to the library. Ed waving casually as he walked away, grinning. Roy watched him go, an involuntary smile curling his lip. He sighed and mounted the stairs to face the afternoon of work. The very first person he chanced upon inside the door was Smythe, whose eyes grew wide as he spotted Roy, and he literally flattened himself against the wall. Roy arched a curious eyebrow at him and the man cringed. He didn't quite know what to do with this so he cowardly made his way around the quivering mass and hurried on to his office. What could possibly have happened to the man's confidence since yesterday?

He stopped at Havoc's desk. The Lieutenant looked incredibly innocent, pure as driven snow.
"What the hell did you tell Fullmetal?" Roy asked, very, very carefully, leaning forward over the man's desk.
Havoc swallowed.
"I may have mentioned General Smythe to Ed?" he tried to sound casual and failed. "Um. I just told him there were rumours, nasty gossip, quite likely originating from Smythe. Which is all true. Um. Ed didn't like it."
That was the understatement of the year, given that Ed's middle name should have been "protectiveness".

Roy Mustang settled behind his desk for the afternoon haul and leaned back with a wry grin. He had heard Ed arrive in the office earlier and leave again. He even had asked about it but Ed had shrugged and said he'd had something to take care of. Roy hadn't thought to question that, still going on the high from last night. Negligent. Well, Smythe had still been in one piece, Ed had shown remarkable restraint. This thought made a warm glow of pride swell in Roy's heart. His lover /was/ maturing and might, one day, be somewhat less of a menace. Perhaps he ought to experience chagrin at Ed's interference in his affairs but he couldn't find it in him. The reality of Edward's presence influenced his priorities to an alarming extent. He /was/ owned, it was undeniably true. The laws of equivalent exchange however, worked in his favour, he owned in turn and what he possessed was of much higher value.