Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Bastard ❯ Chapter 1

Bastard

 

 

“Colonel, I still haven't heard why you stopped that last attack.”

 

He couldn't look the kid in the eye. He just sat there, shovel in hand, and stared at the rubble they made in combat. Combat. What did kids know about….

 

“Nevermind.” A metal hand was on his shoulder. He flinched. “Nevermind.” He repeated himself, as if he was trying to convince Roy he wasn't hearing things.

 

He knew it. He just didn't believe it. Edward Elric, curiousity personified, was letting it go; just like that? Where was catty comeback? Didn't the little bastard live to undermine his authority? Childish. The bastard was childish.

 

And still, he let it go.

 

Roy nearly let himself turn around, just to convince himself that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him; like it had during that `combat.'

 

That was the only reason some kid beat him. Had to be.

 

“Don't get smug, Edward.” Roy shook his head, gave him a rye smile, even though the “Maybe I wanted you to win.” When the boy spat, he knew it was safe to turn around. The sun was setting behind Ed, but it was like he held the light behind him, in his eyes. Scowling, snarling, staring him down. “You would have failed. Then what good would you be to me?” Roy lay his cheek on the shovel and smiled. “Hm?”

 

“Who are you calling a measly little weakling you could step on like a bug?”

 

“No one.” Roy shrugged, got up, and stretched. Oh, he was going to feel this fight, come tomorrow. His back was already aching. “But, if the shoe fits-“

 

It was a mistake to keep his back to the boy. Even though he could see every movement in the shadows on the ground, Roy was in no condition to react quickly enough. A damn mistake. Because the next thing he knew, he was face down in the dirt and broken concrete.

 

Good thing Edward was a lightweight. Otherwise it would have hurt like a bitch to have the kid wailing on his back. Good thing. Roy had to laugh.

 

“What's so fucking funny?”

 

He felt pain, sharp on his shoulder. That was not funny. Roy grunted, twisted and flipped himself over. When Ed, who was straddling his waist, tried to hook him from the right- with his metal hand- Roy caught the fist and rolled him back. The sun was still bright in Roy's eyes- even when it was dead in the sky. Even when he was laying on the ground.

 

“You really want to know?”

 

The boy was pissed. Pissed as hell. That was a good thing. Not just because he was almost as pretty as Hawkeye in a snit. That was actually a little disturbing. It was good because the boy wasn't wondering why Roy had hesitated. Even if he had given up on finding out, he could be damnably, dangerously curious.

 

Roy shifted his weight, pushed his knee between the boy's legs, and pinned his hands over his head.

 

“So tell me.” Ed tried to kick and hit. It was pointless. The kid might've been tough; hell, he was tough. But he was still a kid. Small, and easy to weigh down. “What's so damn funny, asshole?”

 

“You.” Roy smirked. He liked it when the boy was angry. It was twisted, he knew it. But, the rage was a safe passion. He could make the kid hate him, burn him up with hate, and to hell with the pity he heard in Ed's voice, when he said “nevermind.” No dismissal. Roy was the only one who could make that call. Only Roy.

 

Ed spat in his face. “Don't you dare laugh at me. I beat you, asshole. Fair and square. You just can't deal with that, can you?”

 

He was such a kid. Really. Roy had to laugh, again. He didn't understand the challenge he gave; the red flag. No one would have anything over Roy Mustang. Absolutely no one. Even if he liked the kid. Besides…

 

Memory already had something over him. The persistence of memory. He was already a beaten man. Already…

 

He couldn't let him know that. Couldn't tell this kid he was broken. Oh, a child could show his pain to the world, and there would be no shame if he was given pity. A grown man? No. A grown man had to carry his pain. Silently. Stoically. Happily. With pride.

 

“No pity.” Roy leaned down and glared at the boy. For all Ed's suffering, he still didn't understand what it was to be a man. He couldn't accept loss. He couldn't bare his own weight. Dependant, adolescent, childish…

 

“I didn't give you any,” said the boy.

 

“No.” Roy shook his head. Ed was too beautiful for his own good. “I meant you should get no pity.”

 

“What?” He actually laughed back at him. “You're the loser.”

 

Loser. Roy pressed himself down on Ed. He wanted to push the air out of his body, keep him from saying anymore.

 

“I wouldn't say things like that if I were you…” That was when he felt it. Ed. He was hard. Roy could feel it against his thigh. “Well, well.”

 

His eyes- they got so big. Young lust. Fuck, Roy could remember the times when it seemed like wind blowing on his crotch made him hard. A man can look back and understand it's just hormones; a boy, even a prodigy, didn't have experience to reassure him. He only had his body. Roy watched the tendrils of Ed's hair flutter over his cheeks. He was breathing hard. And his big, big eyes. There was so much confusion in them.

 

“Never pity,” Roy said. “Never pity me, boy.”

 

“I don't.” He tried to sound angry. Roy recognized the true emotion behind anger; fear. He liked that. He wanted that. Not because he did not like Ed. No- he liked him, very much. Ever since he found the boy, he knew he was something special.

 

And Roy wanted him to be on edge. To know he was his superior. And never pity. Never.

 

“Why are you so hard?”

 

“What?”

 

“You.” Roy shifted, brought his knee into contact with him. There. Right there. Just enough to make the boy moan, like delicious candy. Oh, memory could be sweet, too. Roy smiled. He could remember how good it felt to be touched, and feel surprised by that feeling. “Why are you hard, Edward?” He leaned down and whispered in his ear. “You horny, boy?” Shit. His skin was so flushed Roy could feel his heat without even touching his cheek.

 

He would teach him a lesson he would never forget. Never pity Roy Mustang. Never pity a man. Hate him. Hate him for all he's worth, but never take away that worth with pity and render him a child.

 

“You pervert!”

 

“You're the one with the hard on. Tell me, Edward, do you ever touch yourself?”

 

“What?” There was a delicious panic in his voice.

 

“Of course you do. That's normal. What about your brother? Do you let him watch you?”

 

“You're- you're disgusting…” He closed his eyes and whimpered. The throb between his legs was answer enough, though.

 

“It's normal, boy. Hell, I could tell you a few stories, myself. You know the dorms are divided by gender. What do you think young cadets do, when they call lights out. Hm?” He laughed softly in Ed's ear. “All alone, with other boys. You can hear them, talking to each other. Telling each other… things. And those things have nothing to do with the day's lessons.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I give the orders, Elric.” Roy pushed his knee, hard, into his crotch. Just enough to make it nearly painful. Ed groaned, wonderfully, beautifully. “Don't you forget it, boy. Call me sir.”

 

“Hell no!” He gritted his teeth and shook his head; his ridiculously long hair hit Roy's face.

 

He ground his knee into his crotch, again. “Say it.”

 

“N-n-nooo.”

 

“Don't you dare defy me, you little shit.” He slammed him, hard, against the broken concrete. It felt good: This boy would not hold anything over him. Memory be damned- he could still be a man. Even if he didn't respect himself, this snot nosed little bastard was going to respect him.

 

Even if it took hate. No pity for Roy. No mercy for the boy. Roy wanted to forget mercy: It was toxic.

 

He reached down, down Ed's small, heaving chest, lower, over his belly, flattened his palm under his shirt, then under the seam of his pants. Down, down, down. To a place he was positive no one ever was, before Ed. Even his little brother. Then he found it, hot and hard.

 

Delicious. The rage reconfiguring in those eyes was sweet. Roy smiled.

 

“You want to say it.” He pumped Ed, slowly. His thumb rubbed the tip of his cock until it got wet. “I know you do. It feels like fire, doesn't it? I know how that feels. I can make it even hotter, boy. You know I can. Just say the word.” Ed groaned. Roy could see the hesitation, the conflict, the need. “You feel it, boy? That dirty part of yourself? The part of you that screams to come out? You probably jerk off late at night, while your brother sits and listens. But he can't touch you.”

 

“N-n-nooo…”

 

“Not like this.” He began to move, deliberately too slow. He let go of the hands he'd pinned above his head. They stayed there, anyway, and the boy shook with horror-lust. “You need more?” Roy stopped.

 

Ed opened one eye and whimpered.

 

“You do, don't you? All alone, Ed. You're all alone, no one to touch you late at night, creaming in your pants. All those fantasies. Tits and ass, boy. You want to share your hard on with someone who understands what it is to feel all that lust in your body? You want something more?”

 

He was so horrified. So gloriously horrified and confused. He had him, now. He knew it. And the boy would hate him, wonderfully, when he was done.

 

It was the least he could do for Ed. Roy shuddered when he realized- he wanted to give this hate to him; it was a gift, to hate the bastard he truly was. Never let go of that beauty, the sun setting in your eyes. Never forget to hate the man who touched you where no man should touch a boy. Hate the bastard, and live on, knowing what a bastard was.