Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Never ... ❯ One-Shot

Author's notes: Okay so this is my first yaoi ever, and I thought I did pretty good but I don't know xD;; I was inspired to write it not only because of my love for this pairing but because I kept reading the same kind of story with it and I wanted to try something maybe a little new. Most of the stories that I read had them already in love, but I don't remember really reading anything where they weren't exactly comfortable with being together in that way just yet. So, I decided to challenge myself and see if I could write up something that even could've happened in the actual timeline. But anyways, to the story!

 

 

 

In the desert, the wind was just as ruthless at night as it was during the day. In the day, it brought affliction and ruin with its suffocating and oppressing heat. During the night, a chilling, piercing gale wreaked havoc on anyone who was stupid enough to be outside. But one such man didn't even think about the cold air stabbing through his clothing like it didn't exist, numbing his fingers and toes as he stood there; no, he had other things on his mind. Roy Mustang stood outside Mäes Hughes' tent, a silent internal battle waging in his mind. He'd seen things … things which he would give any material thing he possessed to un-see but it was impossible, and his mind would not let him forget that fact. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the faces of his victims burned into the backs of his eyelids, fresh as if they'd just happened. Women, children, innocent people who weren't even fighting; he'd had to kill them all, and was expected to do the very same thing the next day.

 

He felt the weight of every single life he'd taken become added to his shoulders after every day of fighting, and soon it became too much to bear, his mind barely holding on whatever sanity he had left. He'd become a State Alchemist to help people, not to slaughter them. He wondered if this was all he'd be forced to do until he finally became Fürher, and would be able to order all of the pointless destruction ceased, but at the rate that this `war' was going, his mind would be long destroyed by the time that happened. The state of his mind right now was in its last sane phase, and this was its last call for help before he plunged into the dark abyss of madness; the only thing that made sense for him to do, which was partly caused by his mind's own self defence, was for his feet to bring him here, in front of his best friend's tent, and yet he still wondered if he should go in.

 

He knew why he was here; the last thing that he could comprehend was that he needed comforting, compassion, stability, and the only person who had ever offered him any of those was Mäes. Even if it was out of just being his friend, it meant a lot to Roy, because no one else had ever given any of those to him even just a little. Hughes was the only person he could turn to that might be able to help him; he was the only person here who knew that Mustang was a human being, not some cold, killing machine that the higher-ups wished him to be. Hughes knew that no one could be like that, not even the Fürher himself, without going insane from the guilt, which was exactly what Roy was doing, and which was exactly the reason he was standing here, the icy wind whipping his bangs around his face. Hughes would be his only salvation from the utter horror of this massacre, and if he didn't accept his plea for support, well, Roy would just have to take matters into his own hands.

 

At the thought, his right hand brushed across the holster on his belt, across the cold, metal handle that could be just as comforting as a friend's embrace, only much more permanent. It was his last resort; he didn't care if he was called a coward and his name disgraced; he figured anything they could throw at him after death would be infinitely better than the terror they were putting him through in life, day after day with seemingly no end. He didn't know how everyone else could cope with this, how they all turned into machines. Some of them enjoyed it, some of them deserted it, some of them handled it, but he figured the smartest ones were the ones who killed themselves. Now, he wasn't quite sure why he was here, and why he didn't just blow his brains out right now if he thought those men were so smart. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, the cold metal soon turning warm from what little heat was left in his hand, and he pulled it up slightly, finding a wave of relief wash over him as he thought about what he could do, what he would do to stop this madness, to stop himself from ever having to go out there again. But just as he was about to pull the weapon out fully, a tiny, almost inaudible voice in the back of his mind surfaced.

 

“Maybe you think those men are the sanest, but maybe they had no one to turn to for help; you obviously think that youdo have someone to turn to , otherwise, why would you be standing here?” he heard it say, and wondered if it was his conscience, or just his own subconscious trying to keep himself alive. He pondered over the thought for a moment, and then very reluctantly let go of the security blanket which was his pistol, letting it drop heavily back into the holster, weighing down on him with the same kind of infinite heaviness of every soul he'd taken, the sort of heaviness of a decision made which he felt he might regret later. Sighing slightly, and obliging the voice by deciding to take the chance, he lifted his hand up, feeling like he had no choice now. He then paused, watching his fingers tremble with … what, he didn't know. Fear, uncertainty, guilt … And then the voice in his head suddenly snapped at him, telling him to go in or else his life would end, to not lose his nerve at such an important time just like he hadn't lost his nerve on the battlefield which was much less healthy for him. If he could kill hundreds of innocent people, he could open the flap to his best friend's tent and ask him for comfort.

 

His fingers slowly touched the rough fabric of the tent, the wind then whipping it out of his grasp but he leaned forward, grabbing it and holding on to it as if it were his last lifeline. He then slowly pulled it up, and poked his head in, seeing nothing but darkness. He thought that Hughes might've been asleep, but he suddenly heard a voice in the dimness call out to him. “Roy? Is that you?” a familiar tone asked, and Roy made a noncommittal noise, stepping into the tent and squatting down once he was inside. He then tied the flap of the tent shut before turning back to Hughes, who had sat up and lit the lantern which hung from the ceiling of the shelter, wearing nothing but his boxers and a loose nightshirt, the top blankets tossed aside as it was still rather hot and stuffy from the day earlier. Grabbing his glasses from beside his bed of blankets on the floor, he put them on after rubbing his eyes a bit, squinting a little from the light above him.

 

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Hughes asked, but then saw the look in Roy's eyes; a look of darkness, despair, and pure anguish. The sight of his best friend looking at him like this broke his heart into a thousand pieces; this man was being torn apart by guilt in front of his very eyes, and he didn't know if he could handle staring at him any longer lest his own emotions well up. Roy opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out, and he looked at the ground, sniffing a little; Mäes couldn't bear it any longer and beckoned him over, Mustang gladly obeying and sitting next to his friend. The next second, he didn't know what had made him do it but his face was buried in Hughes' neck, crying his eyes out with his arms around his neck as well. Mäes looked down at his friend sadly, wrapping his arms around him and trying to comfort him as Roy shook, wracking his body with sobs, otherwise breathing fast and unevenly. His fingers dug painfully into Hughes's back as his body and soul twisted up into a contorted entity of pain, but the man bore it, knowing that Roy needed to do it; he needed something to hold onto this tightly to remind him that he was still on earth and wasn't sinking into the darkness like he might have been had Mäes not been there.

 

The only reason that Hughes didn't mind being in a rather intimate moment with his friend was because he'd seen the horrors that Roy saw, and yet he wasn't forced into the same kind of mass destruction that his friend was, therefore he couldn't fathom the torment that the Flame alchemist had to endure every waking moment, of being a very big cause to a lot of misery and devastation to the Ishbalans. Mäes began gently rubbing his back and trying to calm him down, knowing that Roy should probably continue weeping but he wanted to try and alleviate even a little bit of the man's aching heart, not wanting to see him in such a terrible state. He also began wondering that if he'd been kept out here much longer, would he end up the same way? Sure he didn't have to do as much killing but it was still senseless, and it still took a harsh toll on his spirit, which was saying something.

 

Mustang didn't know why Hughes was letting him do this, or why he felt that he needed to cry so badly, but having Mäes' strong, warm arms surrounding him grounded him, and let him feel like he was safe for once in this alien, grisly place. He was glad, even relieved to know that Hughes would be alright with offering him this kind of support; under normal circumstances, crying in front of anyone would be a complete disaster to both his reputation, and pride, but these certainly weren't normal circumstances, were they? Realising that his friend actually was willing to console and soothe him, he started to relax, his fingers no longer gouging themselves into the man's skin as his sobs began to soften, his immediate pain slowly ebbing away. Roy had tried to let go of all of his pain and guilt and distress through his actions, and felt himself become perhaps a little saner that someone would allow him to let it all out without judgment, and once he'd gotten over his sudden tidal wave of emotion he pulled back, but didn't let go of Hughes' neck, still needing the comfort of something to cling to desperately.

 

“I'm sorry …” he sniffed, wiping his tears away on the shoulder of his own uniform as best he could. Hughes just shook his head slightly, telling him that he didn't need an excuse, and the Flame alchemist's head drooped, thinking about what to say. “I just … I was on my last thread of sanity … this was my last chance to survive and for some reason, I don't quite know why, I ended up here. I don't know if I just subconsciously knew that you could help me, or what but … My only choices were to come here, or shoot myself.” he said, and Hughes' heart sank even further; he hadn't realised how close his best friend was to being gone forever. “I know this is probably really awkward for you and it certainly is for me but, I just … I need comfort so badly and I don't care if this looks like something else.” he said, and Mäes forced Roy's face back onto his shoulder, hugging him tightly.

 

“You don't have to worry about what this looks like. No one from the outside would understand what you've been through, and what measures it would force you to take to find a small bit of sanity. I'm glad to be able to comfort you in such a hard time, and I'm glad to be the person you came to in your darkest hour. It honours me greatly.” he said, his sincerity clearly heard in his voice. Roy then knew from that moment that he'd done the right thing; finally, he'd chosen the right fork of those infinitely heavy decisions which he usually ended up regretting.

 

“I … I don't know what to say. Just, thank you … for understanding. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart.” came Roy's muffled response. “You don't know how much this means to me …” he said before becoming silent, closing his eyes and a few more tears leaking out, although more from relief than pain.

 

“Oh I think I do …” thought Mäes as he laid down with the still trembling form of his friend, and letting him get into a more comfortable position. The two now lay side by side, Roy still clinging to Hughes' neck with his face buried somewhere along there too, with the other man's arms around his middle, gently stroking his back as he continued trying to ease his anguish even by a little. After awhile, he seemed to relax completely, the raw emotion which had been tearing him up only a few minutes before seeming to have diminished, and he stopped quivering, even his breathing becoming more stable. Hughes inwardly smiled a little, extremely happy that Roy hadn't been a lost cause and actually was able to calm down; and even happier that he was the one who was able to give it to him. To be able to help a friend back from the edge and essentially save his life more than made up for everyone he'd killed, at least for the time being. It made him feel less like a heartless murderer and more like a soldier who just followed orders, and let him put up a little more of a wall there to distinguish the two.

 

Figuring that Roy might even be able to sleep, he sat up to turn the lantern off, catching the other man by surprise. Mustang lost his grip on him, immediately crying out pathetically and clawing at Mäes' flesh, trying to get back the warmth and comforting feel of his presence again. As soon as the light disappeared he lay back down, shushing Roy with a gentle hand stroking his face before taking off his glasses and putting them back in their place beside his bed, his hand soon returning to the other man's back. He began to wonder what someone would think if they walked in on the two like this in the morning, but pushed the thought aside, knowing his friend needed the comforting much more than his pride needed to stay intact, especially about such a stupid thing. Sighing slightly, he then heard Roy's voice come from somewhere around his collarbone, and he pulled back so that he could speak clearer.

 

“What am I going to do tomorrow?” he mumbled, his eyes half open and staring into space.

 

“You know what you're going to do?” Hughes more stated than asked, “You're going to make it through this alive. You're going to go out there, and just like every day you're going to block out the screams and the terror and the senselessness and you're going to be a soldier, and then once you've done your killing and your mind starts turning to everything that you tried to keep out but could only postpone feeling until right then, you're going to hear my voice.” Roy looked up at him with a rather confused expression on his face, and Mäes elaborated. “You're going to hear my voice in your mind, and you're going to follow it home. Do you understand me? You're not going to stumble around and wallow in self-pity, you're going to come straight here where I'll be waiting. My shift ends earlier than yours, so I'll be waiting here, waiting for you to let it all out again, to let go of all those terrible feelings at least a tiny bit and let yourself stay sane one more day. And you know what you'll do the day after that? The exact same thing.” he said firmly, leaving Mustang with no choice but to nod. “You will use me as a beacon of light in all of this darkness, to keep you going every day until we can finally leave, and I say you do this because you are my best friend. This is what best friends do; they look out for each other. You don't have to do a thing for me in return; the fact that you trust me enough to come to me instead of killing yourself is payment enough. And, if you can keep going every day, I certainly can take the time to comfort you every day, because I can't even imagine the things you see and must feel …” he said, sorrow lacing his voice.

 

Roy made a sound of agreement, burying his face back into Hughes and sighing, becoming even more relaxed now that the other man had given him a purpose, and a direction to go in each day. Mäes soon felt Roy's breathing become slower, and felt his grip on him loosen slightly, and he knew that the man had fallen into a somewhat calm sleep; probably a lot easier of a sleep than if he had been on his own. He smiled a little and relaxed himself, drifting off soon afterwards, and hoped that his friend would be able to make it tomorrow through his guidance.

 

 

“Soldier!” a voice rang out, and Hughes turned around, addressing the officer.

 

“Sir!” he answered, saluting.

 

“Since the man who used to be sharing your tent with you died on the battlefield a few days ago, we're moving someone else in who also lost their tent mate to conserve space. The man's name is Roy Mustang.” he said, speaking in a concise manner. Hughes had to hold back his happiness; this way no one would ask why the two were in the same tent all night. “His possessions will be moved into your quarters by the time you return. Is that clear?”

 

“Yes sir.” Mäes answered, saluting again before returning to going about his duties. Today was just a general day of labour; he didn't need to go on the battlefield for two days, and he was thankful for it. It was kind of like their weekend, but everyone's days `off ' were spaced so that an equal amount of soldiers were distributed at all times. They weren't necessarily off days though, as they still had to haul supplies and weaponry, among other things. This was also the time when they got their one shower a week, which was only 5 minutes long for water conservation and most didn't even bother to wash up because they knew they'd get dirty within hours from the sand blowing around all the time. Usually they just stood there in the cold water, enjoying its soothing feeling before it was cut off all too soon, forcing them back to their work.

 

By the end of the day he was exhausted, and crawled back to his tent to find another pile of blankets next to his, along with a suitcase which he figured housed Roy's changes of clothes and extra gloves; Hughes' own suitcase held his necessities as well but also a small bottle of vodka for the really harsh nights, and he pulled it out not for himself, but in anticipation for when said tent mate showed up; he would definitely need it more than him.

 

 

Mustang's face was unreadable has he snapped his fingers for probably the hundredth time that day, but he wasn't counting as a huge blast levelled a building in front of him, and for a moment he heard the terrified screams of the people inside but they were soon silenced. He then heard an officer running up behind him so he turned around and saluted, waiting for his next orders. “Good job soldier! You can go back to the encampment now. By the way, you've been moved since your tent mate died the other day. You're new quarters are with a man by the name of Mäes Hughes, who is six rows down from your old one. Is that clear?”

 

Mustang nodded, saluting again as he said. “Yes sir!” The man then patted him on the back once before moving on, off to inform someone else of their day ending. Roy then began the long walk back to headquarters, and as he did his mind turned to everything that he'd done that day as usual, every face flashing before his eyes, every scream ringing in his ears, and his hand brushed across his holster yet again, the comforting feeling washing over him once again. It was then that the voice in the back of his head awakened once more, but this time it was Mäes' voice; “You're going to hear my voice in your mind and you're going to come home. Do you understand me? You're not going to stumble around and wallow in self-pity, you're going to come straight here where I'll be waiting …” he heard it say, and nodded slightly to himself, stumbling back to the tents. His mind still didn't rest, going over and over the deaths of his victims, and by the time he got back to Hughes' tent he was the same kind of mess that he had been before, falling into his friend's arms and huddling up, tears rolling down his face.

 

Once he was done with his initial breakdown, he mumbled, “I heard you, out there. If it weren't for that I wouldn't have been able to handle it …”

 

Mäes just hugged him closer, placing his head on Roy's shoulder. “That's what I'm here for, you know that.” he said softly, soothing his friend once again. When Roy had pieced himself together somewhat, Hughes stood up, giving Roy a hand so that he could as well, and the Flame alchemist rubbed his eyes, making sure that there was no trace of tears before they both went out to the mess hall to get their evening meals. Eating out here was a quiet affair for the most part; most men were close to the same state that Roy was and were just focusing on trying to eat instead of throw up like they felt like doing. When the two had finished that they went back to their tent, but Mustang didn't say in his own bed; instead he crawled over to Hughes and clung to him again until the two fell asleep, Mäes' vodka left untouched and forgotten about for the time being.

 

The next day wasn't the same however; Roy was in an even worse state after god knows what he saw, and Mäes handed him a small shot glass of the clear liquid, which he gratefully consumed before relaxing considerably, the alcohol's effects working immediately. The days following that were similar; sometimes they'd sit and talk for awhile after, sometimes Mustang would be in too much of a condition to even speak, and sometimes Mäes had to give him more of the drink to even calm him down enough to sit. Sometimes, even Hughes cried at the things he'd been ordered to do, the two of them just laying, huddled together in their pain, and they were glad that no one bothered them; this was what war did to you and they needed to let it out somehow lest they do go insane. It also broke Mäes' heart to watch his friend's condition deteriorate every day; even though he was helping him through it, he couldn't do this forever. The both of them would surely end up mad.

 

 

A few days later, Roy came back to their tent yet again, but he had a different look in his eyes. Mäes, having already stripped down to a muscle shirt and his boxers from the heat, raised an eyebrow as his friend didn't do what he usually did, which was break down on him, but he stood there, and didn't move, his eyes seeming dead. “Roy?” Hughes asked, becoming even more confused, but it didn't seem like his friend had heard him. It didn't seem like he was even there; just staring into space, not moving, barely breathing even. Hughes had to force him to sit down, but Roy just pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, burying his face into them. “Roy are you alright?” he asked again, wondering why his friend wouldn't let him comfort him. He had to shake him before his head came up, and looked him in the eyes with that same dead expression which completely shattered his heart again.

 

“They gave us incomplete Philosopher's Stones.” he said, holding up his right hand. “We are now complete killing machines. I levelled an entire city with only two fingers …” he said, going back to looking straight ahead as if he was staring at nothing again. Hughes couldn't imagine what Roy had been through; it seemed enough to deaden his spirit immensely and he wondered how coming back here had registered in his friend's mind at all. He then knew that he had to talk to Mustang about it or else he would be lost forever; he feared that he'd lost him already. It took about 4 shots of vodka and a lot of coaxing and comforting before Roy would respond to anything Hughes said, and boy did he respond. Clinging to Mäes tighter than he ever had, he practically wailed at the horrible acts that he'd committed, all the hundreds of lives he'd taken in one day.

 

“So many children …” he sobbed, “Most of them weren't even ten years old and I was ordered to kill them all! There's no way that they could've fought! They wanted to surrender and to have peace but I was told to kill them anyways as a lesson to their people that we're ruthless! I'm not a ruthless person Hughes! I can't do this shit anymore!” he cried, virtually gasping for breath but he couldn't stop bawling, and Mäes bit his bottom lip, feeling a tear run down his own cheek at seeing his friends pain, wondering if the suffering would ever stop. They were killing Roy with what they were making him do, killing him just like they were killing all those other people only with him it was slower, but infinitely more painful.

 

“I … I don't know what to say Roy …” he whispered, “I don't know how they can keep expecting you to do this day after day … Pretty soon there won't be a single Ishbalan left …” Roy just clung to him harder, his body shaking violently with his sobbing, guilt absolutely tearing him apart. “Mustang … You can't blame this on yourself! They ordered you to do it, you had no choice! You can't keep beating yourself up over it or else you will go insane! You've come to me to help you but I can't do that if you don't help yourself as well …” he said, and he felt the other man loosen up slightly, and he looked up at him.

 

“How can I live with myself when I've done such things? It would be easier to die than to take more lives …”

 

Hughes' kind eyes suddenly flashed in anger, surprising Roy to say the least. “Don't you ever say that again. You do not deserve to die just as those Ishbalans don't. The only difference is that unfortunately you're more powerful, and you're in the military. Killing yourself won't bring back everyone you've killed, and it won't make anything better. Besides, I won't have my best friend anymore …” he said sadly, “And I don't know how I'd live with that.” he finished.

 

His statement seemed to get through to Roy; he stopped his crying and thought over it for a long time, the two of them just sitting there, not bothering to go and eat. Neither of them felt like they could stomach food, and sitting in each other's arms felt like the only thing they could do right then. Roy then pulled back, looking into Hughes' eyes, the other man seeing a mixture of sadness, guilt, but most prominently a desperate need for comfort, a sort of wild emotion that would do anything to satisfy itself, no matter who could provide it. He saw it flare up suddenly before Roy breathed, “Hughes …” and leaned up, capturing Mäes' lips with his own, the action so desperate that he had a hard time resisting.

 

But he pulled away, looking at him confusedly, “What the … What are you doing?” he asked, but Mustang just pulled him closer, now kissing his neck, his hand sliding under his shirt as Hughes tried to push him away. “Roy! I … what … why are you doing this …” he asked, his resistance becoming weaker with every touch and kiss, slowly being pushed down by the Flame alchemist. Once he'd stopped fighting altogether, and just lay there, Mustang pulled back, looking him in the eyes again, Mäes seeing that frantic … need for some kind of close human relation, and realised what it wanted from him. It wasn't Roy doing this, out of attraction or what have you, it was his mind trying to find something deeper to hold on to, something to anchor it to this world; and what better to anchor itself with than the most intimate thing two people can experience together?

 

“You know I'm not gay …” Hughes said, although he still wasn't entirely sure why he wasn't resisting anymore.

 

“Neither am I.” the other man answered.

 

“Then why are you doing this?”

 

“Do you want me to stop?”

 

“Never …”

 

And with that, the two found themselves in a feverish tangle of limbs and emotions, Roy's hand clutching the back of Hughes' head, forcing them into a crushing kiss as his other hand pushed up his shirt further, Mäes' hands fumbling to undo Mustang's uniform as quickly as he could. They broke apart for a split second to pull off the muscle shirt completely before surrendering to each other's lips again, their tongues soon battling it out for dominance. Hughes' ended up winning and pushing itself into the other man's mouth, exploring it while he finally managed to slide off the blue uniform, pulling the white dress shirt out of his belt soon afterwards. After he'd somehow managed to unbutton that as well and slid it off, Roy's mouth moved to his neck, kissing and sucking on it all the way down, making Mäes moan slightly, both of them breathing heavily already from their hormones that were rampaging relentlessly throughout their bodies.

 

Roy still gripped the other man's hair as he moved his way down, soon licking and kissing around one of his nipples and unconsciously rubbing his groin slightly against the tent now formed in Mäes' boxers, making the older male whimper a little at the feeling. But Hughes, not wanting to be teased any longer, seized his ass and pulled him down, emitting a loud groan and making Roy gasp as he was forced to grind their erections together, finding his pants to be terribly constricting all of a sudden. Hughes felt the same and within moments, both of them were completely naked, still twisted around each other, and yet neither knew who was on top anymore. It didn't matter to them as both tried to kiss, touch, feel every inch of the other person's body, Hughes now needing the closeness almost as much as Mustang did. But, what they were doing wasn't exactly romantic; it was more of a wild passion, with fingers clawing at each other, bodies wrestling to be the one who was giving the pleasure, grunts, pants and moans filling the air, both of them having their hair, ass, soul grasped and clutched at, neither wanting to be the one who gave in to the other.

 

Soon, it seemed that their objectives started to change. At first, they were both in it for the secure feeling of having another person's body close to theirs in such a trying time. But as they progressed, they slowly felt their instincts kick in, telling each one that they had to be the one in charge, that they needed to be the alpha, that they had to win this little competition. The good thing about this was that Roy seemed to have forgotten all about his guilt, and Mäes seemed to have forgotten all about initially not wanting to do this with a man, the both of them now trying in earnest to satisfy their testosterone-induced needs. They weren't violent with each other, still kissing and stroking and licking, but they couldn't do this forever, and one of them had to win eventually.

 

Finally, Mäes found himself on top, spreading both knees out so that he could keep Roy down. Using his weight advantage to gain control, he leaned down to bite at the other man's pale skin and leave teeth marks all over his chest as a sign that he was now in charge, claiming himself the victor. Both somehow found it in their minds to be careful about leaving marks on each other's necks, lest people start wondering what was going on, but everywhere else was fair game, and they used it to the fullest. The man then left a bite a little lower than the first, and then lower, trailing bites and kisses downwards until Roy couldn't handle the teasing anymore, grabbing his hair again and grabbing his throbbing cock with his other hand, pushing Hughes' face towards it, the other man smirking as he took it into his mouth. He sucked on it roughly, the force causing his teeth to drag along it slightly too, making Mustang cry out loudly, the feeling bordering on pain but registering in his mind only as pleasure. Mäes continued this for only a little bit before pulling away, wanting to alleviate his own pulsing erection as well.

 

Roy growled as the other man's mouth left his now protesting member, but soon felt his shoulders being pushed on by Mäes' hands, making him lay flat and unable to move. Mäes, confident that younger man would not move, slipped one of the hands underneath him to lift him up slightly, and Roy almost fought what he was about to do, his primal instincts screaming in his ear that he needed to be the one on top who would be taking the other, but he had no choice; the other man was taller, heavier, and generally stronger than him. He then felt tip of Hughes' rigid cock probe at his entrance, slick with precome, and he had to force himself to relax enough that it could slowly slide in. Surprisingly there was enough of the fluid to act as a good lubricant, and Mustang had to fight to not scream as it soon brushed against the bundle of nerves that sent white flashes of pleasure across his mind, instead letting out a choked groan.

 

Mäes groaned himself as he felt the other man's muscles tighten around him, and he couldn't help but thrust himself in fully, moving his hand back to the other shoulder of the man below him. He pulled on both of them slightly for leverage as he held him down, soon forming a rhythm, and all Roy's thoughts about fighting Hughes dissipated in the blinding pleasure he received every time a certain spot was hit. He then tried to lean up to start kissing the man on top of him but he was still forced down, and so he used his hands to push Mäes' arms away, catching him off guard and making him collapse almost completely onto Mustang, grunting as his rhythm was disrupted. Roy began biting at his shoulder as Mäes readjusted, leaning on his elbows which were now placed beside the other man's head, beginning to thrust into him again, tangling his fingers into the Flame alchemist's hair. But the act of disobedience did not go unnoticed; Hughes leaned down and bit harshly into the sensitive flesh of Roy's neck while growling, breaking their silent rule about not marking each other's necks. Mustang didn't seem to care about the rule anymore either, and just snarled back, the two baring their teeth at each other for a moment before Mäes gave a particularly hard thrust, causing the younger man to throw back his head and let out another strangled moan.

 

Roy's hands soon found themselves on Hughes' ass, urging him to thrust harder, deeper, and every time he touched that one spot he bit harder into his shoulder in a pathetic attempt to quiet himself. Mäes growled at the pain but bore it anyways since his mind was more focused on how tight Mustang felt around his cock, almost creating a painfully tense sensation but he loved it. Now that Mäes was forced to be pulled against Roy's body, his abdomen was grinding against Roy's formerly neglected member, giving him twice the sensation as before and almost being too much for him. Mustang even started to move his hips so that it would keep rubbing against the other male's skin, the bumps of his chiselled abs creating a wonderful friction against his cock. Hughes leaned down to place his teeth on Mustang's neck again but not biting down this time, instead letting his hot, heavy breath wash over his skin with every pant and make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, shivers running down his spine. Roy created a similar sensation by dragging his fingers down Hughes' bony ridge in his back, giving up on trying to stifle himself so much as he knew it was futile when he was experiencing this much pleasure at one time.

 

The Flame alchemist soon became frustrated that Hughes seemed to be going at a slow pace just to tease him, and tried to unbalance and flip him over, but Hughes caught on and spread his legs farther to keep from losing his dominance, biting Roy harshly on the shoulder to punish him. He then smirked, thinking that if that's how he wanted to be, then he could suffer by being on the bottom properly. Mäes suddenly pulled out momentarily and easily flipped the younger man onto his stomach, roughly pushing him into the ground and growling before entering him again without warning, making Roy cry out in ecstasy as he got a direct hit on his prostate. Mustang hated that he now had no choice but to submit, but soon all thoughts of anger left as his knees were pulled up to give the other man better access, which he certainly made use of, his pace having increased exponentially. Hughes then leaned down to start biting at Mustang's skin again on his back, leaving teeth marks all over as one of his hands began travelling Roy's rock-hard stomach, the other being used to support himself.

 

His hand soon brushed against the other man's stiff member, and he wrapped his fingers around it, using the precome that had collected on the tip to let his hand slide a little easier as he started pumping on it in time with his thrusts, Roy clutching at the blankets they were on and moaning loudly into the fabric of Mäes' pillow to try and stifle himself; otherwise the whole encampment would probably hear him. He then started moving his hips to meet with every one of the older man's thrusts, and soon felt his climax coming upon him, their rhythm going faster and faster as both tried to reach their pinnacle, feeling it just within their grasp … Seconds later, white strings of fluid coated Mäes' hand and Roy's stomach as he came, yelling into the pillow, his knuckles turning white as he seized the blankets. The way that his muscles tightened even further around Hughes' cock in his orgasmic bliss sent the man over the edge, spilling his own seed deep into the Flame alchemist, and biting into his shoulder so hard that it drew blood as he tried to not scream as well. He managed to tone it down to a strangled yell, grasping the other man's member even harder in his ecstasy, inadvertently furthering Roy's pleasure.

 

When they were both spent, they positively collapsed into a sweaty embrace, Roy having rolled back over and Hughes pulling out, holding each other tightly in their arms, still panting heavily. Hughes then felt a warm liquid trickling along one of his arms, and leaned up a bit to see the bite he'd left, which was now bleeding freely. “Shit, I'm sorry.” he said, moving over to lick it up, Roy wincing slightly as he suddenly realised the pain. Both of their minds slowly returned from the once competitive and rather aggressive mindset as they lay there, Mäes licking the blood from the wound as gently as he could so as to not hurt Roy even more, seeming a little bashful that he'd gone that far. Once it had clotted, Mäes pulled back to look Mustang in the eyes, nuzzling his head slightly before speaking. “So, do you feel better now?” he asked, his breathing having finally returned to normal.

 

“Yeah … I think I do. Thank you.” Mustang whispered, snuggling into the other man's skin again, falling asleep soon afterwards from exhaustion. Hughes followed suit a few minutes later, having one of the best sleeps of his life.

 

 

Mustang never truly got over his guilt for all of the killing he'd done. Even so, ever since that night he found that he was able to handle the horrors of Ishbal easier, or at least it was easier for Hughes to comfort him every time that he came back to their tent. He rarely broke down anymore, and all it took for him was a soft touch, a reassuring squeeze of the arm, a tight hug and he was reminded that there was someone there for him, and there was a reason for doing all of this, however wrong it seemed. All that jabbering the man did about not blaming himself and holding on started to sound pretty good to him, although he didn't know if he would ever be able to believe it fully.

 

With the aid of the Philosopher's stones, Ishbal was cleaned up pretty fast, and before he knew it, they were being shipped back to their friends and families, a terrible scar still fresh upon Roy's heart and soul, but one that he hid well. Once they were back home, the two of them always felt a special bond but never felt the need to be together in that way again, reserving themselves to a soft touch, a reassuring squeeze of the arm, a tight hug once in awhile to remind them of who they really were, and what they'd been through … together.