Surrender

Well, this is certainly a change for me. I have never written a Fullmetal Alchemist story before and have only recently started to read them, so please excuse my noobness to this fandom. I hope I don't humiliate myself too much or anything. Anyway, I find the pairing of Roy x Maes simply adorable and wanted to try my hand at this, at least once. This idea came to me probably in the middle of the week while I was listening to the song of which select lyrics are included in the beginning of the story. Hope this is well recieved.

A few things about this story: Rated M for graphic yaoi. If this bothers you, or you don't like the pairing, or M x M in general, then please don't click or send messages or such. You have other options you know. If you do like this, please make yourself at home then.

Also, I guess it would be considered slight AU as they are still in their universe I just didn't specify a timeline or end for Hughes and such as like in the manga and show.

Other than those warnings, please enjoy. I apologize in advance if they are OOC, I hope they aren't too much so. I also apologize for any mistakes as I tried to make sure that I had everything in order and facts straight, etc before I released this. So hope to hear from you, remember, constructive not destructive criticism.

Also posted to ff.net under the same name.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or the lyrics appearing as inspiration behind the fic. The lyrics belong to Hawthorn Heights. No money made from this.


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Surrender

One-shot

So you're the fire and I'm the water

I am the balance and you are the color

I won’t forget you when we’re not together

This is the ending, here’s my surrender

~ Where do I stab myself in the ears by Hawthorn Heights

The rain fell in heavy, penetrating sheets and staining the course surface of the electric blue uniform a shade darker as the warm body made its way through the semi-lit streets of the city. Pale hands had stuffed themselves in worn pockets, not to escape the chill piercing the air but out of sheer habit alone.

His white and red-thread embroidered spark gloves were stuffed safely away, for they were absolutely useless in this weather. Fire never won the endless battle against its only natural enemy, water; no odds could change that simple fact.

Without them covering the calluses on his hands, he felt he had lost a part of his identity. It was the power and knowledge behind those gloves that had built the lifestyle he was currently coasting upon. So, without the warm material at the ready, he felt like everyone else.

He was powerful and cunning, smart for his age, and that had landed him a comfy seat as a colonel. He knew he was cocky and proud, even pretentious especially to subordinates like young Edward Elric or Riza Hawkeye. But the rest of the men close to his age awed him and the higher ups feared him, so that he was trapped in an endless stagnant middle of never advancing forward or backward. A stalemate.

It was probably around one am on a weekday, so that the streets were mostly desolate, devoid of early risers with duties and jobs to attend to in a matter of hours. With the downpour, it wasn’t exactly the most exceptional time to be roaming the streets, sleepless and depressed.

But none the less, his well worn, comfortable standard issue military black boots sloshed through ankle deep puddles on the well-worn streets of the city, not so far from his home. He was useless he contemplated as he continued on a path he knew so intimately that he hardly had to form the directions to be taken there.

He knew he should have covered his head as the chilly liquid bullets struck his head, rushing down his black locks in every direction, pasting the fringe above his dark eyes to his pallid skin in black tips like claws.

The rain ran turrets down the back of his neck, to the collar of his coat and uniform, ultimately touching his skin like icy fingers from a winter lake or a myth. He also knew, being a dog of the military so to say, that it was particularly dangerous for him to be wandering at this hour.

It was a situation that couldn’t be ignored, no matter how many times he had tried to force the images from his mind, the awful red splattered carnage, the smells, and the damage done. His usually cold eyes were vulnerable, darkened with painful memories of a younger version of himself, eager to please and to serve as he had been drilled.

His usually soft, smooth skin looked hard, pulled over his bones and muscles like canvas, a sign that he hadn’t slept as he should have. He had returned to his lonely home a little later than everyone else, staying for some paperwork.

The sound of the rain made his spectacle covered eyes feel heavier than usual, pitter-patteing off the firm glass windows around him so that he was almost forced by mother nature herself to turn in for the night. Such peaceful noise, however, was turned malice by his thoughts and soon the comforting sound was nothing more than a memory of a war zone, the ghosts of his past surfacing to remind him of his terrible deeds.

He had been able to wake himself, feeling fevered, the stark white sheets clinging to his scantily clad frame as he sat upright in the dark, trying to collect himself. Suddenly, the once inviting flow of his house felt like it would crush him if he did not leave.

So he grabbed up his uniform and coat, dressing quickly and quietly, though no one else was with him. It was a strange and unnatural instinct for him, to be afraid of shadows and ghosts of memories that only existed in his head and not the inanimate objects around him. He felt like a child, foolish and young enough to not know that such things did not exist as you grew older.

He slid into the chilly material wordlessly, trying not to turn on any lights for fear he might see something nerve-wracking and genuinely disturbing, unpleasant. It was hard to even breathe, the seemingly stale air threatening to choke him. He was gulping for air.

Any sound was magnified, like the wood creaking under his heavy feet when he crossed planks, or the shutting of a door. Even harmless sounds like his keys nearly sent him into unnecessary and irrational panic.

‘splash’ as he stepped through another puddle to cross the road to the house he knew so well. Work consumed a great deal of his life and the people around him, so that he never had time to visit outside of his job. Early morning hours were hardly any exception, except this time.

His boots hardly made an audible sound now as he began to ascend the stairs to a darkened home and doorway, to the one person in his consuming world that would know what to do. His hand hovered just above the heavy mahogany of the solid door, as he debated on his next action.

Should he knock or just go home and hope for the best? He didn’t like feeling so vulnerable, his teeth pulling his bottom lip into his mouth for a worry. ‘Anytime you need me,’ rang in his head. He knew it was always said, but it was just a theory until you put it into practice. He had never put it into practice this late before.

He knocked, his white knuckles rapping sharply against the wood and over the rain, resounding through the house. He hoped someone was home for all this trouble. If not, he would just go back to Central and work on paperwork until everyone else showed up in the span of hours.

Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed faintly past the door as light illuminated the zone beyond the glass as the lock clicked and hinges creaked. His mind prepared for the onslaught of chaos he was sure would come next.

“Roy?” a sleepy voice mumbled, a bewildered ring to it as the door opened fully, the damp air rushing past to clash with the toasty.

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a slight bow of his head, hands still resting quietly in his pockets non threateningly. He wasn’t strong enough to fight the overwhelming feelings of pathetic behavior at his own vulnerability.

“Are you injured? Something happened?” the other man’s voice rushed out, as panicked as Roy was feeling, with his guts wrenching inside under his skin shell.

His eyes were a luminescent shade of green to hazel, Roy never being sure how to classify them every time they met, and this time was no exception. He found himself staring at them, realizing they were unrestricted by his usual pair of thin glasses. He wasn’t surprised however, to see that he was dressed in only a pair of boxers and a pale shirt, as he had interrupted his sleeping cycle.

His best friend’s hands reached out for him, grasping his shoulders in a fairly natural and almost brotherly motion, trying to check for visible signs of injury. It was solid and comfortable contact, even though Roy rarely let anyone close to him. It was only acceptable when Maes reached out for him, as he seemingly had no concept of personal boundaries.

“No, nothing that drastic,” Roy smiled wanly in the faint light filtering past Maes frame in the doorway. He would feel silly admitting what it actually was that had terrified him enough to leave his home; that the injury was in his mind.

“Roy,” Maes whined rolling his eyes at his apparent attempt to lighten what could be a dark situation. His hands pulled Roy across the threshold of the house, as they left him to shut the door securely behind them. He was actually surprised to find that he missed that brief contact on his chilly clothing.

An arm wound its way around his shoulders as they moved quietly from the doorway to the vast living area, littered with toys and endless stacks of paperwork. He would have normally been upset to see it in such a state, mingling with objects that represented play; work and play should never be mixed.

But he was used to how Maes’ home always appeared and would have been stunned into silence if it looked any different when he showed up sometimes. It wasn’t that Gracia Hughes was a lazy housekeeper, just that children were children and fathers were fathers.

“What is going on? You’re soaking wet,” Maes pointed out, pulling at Roy’s coat, in a motherly manner now. It was actually rather cute Roy couldn’t help but notice, as he allowed a smirk to press his lips, how he could switch so many roles.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied as nonchalantly as he could muster, the lump in his throat residing for a minute or two so that he could breathe comfortably. But Maes Hughes, being the closest friend in the world that Colonel Mustang had, could tell it was something more, but that his pride would never allow a full confession probably.

“Now, I know you didn’t just walk in the rain all the way here because you simply couldn’t sleep.” Maes warm fingers pulled his sopping, heavy coat from his body and then motioning for the rest of his clothing. Roy hesitated. He had left a trail of drops from one room to the next.

“Of course I went walking for my health,” he shot back, unable to stop the quips even though he could tell that Maes was genuinely concerned for his personal well-being as a human and not just a paper pusher or weapon of the military. He was probably one of the few, since most people in the military loathed the flame alchemist for one reason or another.

“Out of those clothes,” Maes commanded, still holding out his hand before he would allow Roy to be seated on the plush floral upholstery of the couch. His sharp eyes were equally commanding as he met the other man’s almost pitch black. The set of his jaw conveyed that he was not going to relent, even if he had to strip the slightly younger man down himself. “And then you’ll tell me what you risked your health and life to tell me.”

“Alright mother,” Roy smiled rolling his eyes cockily as he began to slowly unfasten the buttons, the task taking twice the normal amount of time since it was fairly soaked through as well. He realized with horror that it had even soaked through his shirt and pants to his skin. He felt a shade more than exposed now, standing in the Hughes’ living room in a little more than his birthday suit as Maes disappeared.

“You can borrow these,” Maes smiled jovially as he walked back into the room holding a white shirt and a pair of plain pale blue boxers. Gratefully, Roy pulled both on, though feeling strange his best friend was watching as he dressed. There wasn’t much of a choice of things to look at though.

He realized that Gracia and Elicia must have been gone for the night as Maes certainly wasn’t trying to be quiet or hide him. Then he remembered Maes had provided a lengthy explanation that they were visiting grandparents, since none of them had seen her since she was a baby probably and how he would be alone for a few weeks at least because of work.

“Now, what brought you here so urgently?” Maes started as they sat down, side by side on the medium sized couch. It was closer to a love seat, their thighs touching unintentionally as the cushions gave way beneath them. Maes was wearing his glasses now, the faint lighting of the single lamp beside them reflecting off of them.

“I told you, my health,” Roy explained, dodging the truth now openly. Damn his pride. He didn’t want to admit to his vulnerability, even to his best friend who knew him so well.

“Roy Mustang, do I have to torture you to get the truth? Something bothered you enough to make this trip. I can see it, something is wrong.” He leaned forward, to study the flame alchemist with scrutinizing eyes, as he already had an idea what was amiss. It was something that they both knew about but never discussed anymore if Roy could help it.

When Roy said nothing and merely began to study his hands, searching for flaws he knew were there, Maes placed a quiet hand on his shoulder to prompt him and demonstrate that he meant business. “I just want to help,” he added.

When Roy shut his eyes, he could still see the views of carnage there that he had buried and covered up with seemingly meaningless memories since then. He was a murderer after all when time seemed to meld in order from present to past. He slowly, painfully clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Those people,” he ventured his soul raw and exposed on his lips and tongue. He could still hear the screams and feel the kiss of the flames, whether from the wreckage or from his hands. They filled and consumed the empty hole in his chest where he felt his heart had been surgically removed. He knew that Maes would grasp his meaning almost simultaneously.

His bottomless eyes stared empty and forlorn, forgotten at his hands as his body stiffened as if under Medusa’s spell. That was all it took for Maes to grab the quivering alchemist into his strong arms, pulling the trembling body firmly to his chest.

It was a 180 change from the usual arrogant and confident air he surrounded himself with, reverting to an almost child-like state. It had been a long time since Maes had seen the slightly younger man this way, allowing his emotions to consume him.

His soft hands rubbed circles into Roy’s back, his face crushed against the pale of his sleeping shirt, mostly pulled into his lap. He wrapped his arms softly around him, whispering comforting words as he maintained contact. Stemming from a base instinct, Roy curled closer, inhaling the unique scent of floral verses woodland.

Roy couldn’t help but fist the material into his hands, clutching desperately as if he were going to fall. He was going to fall it seemed, like the very couch was going to swallow him whole if he let go of Maes for even a second. It had never been this bad after all this time. Was it because he was under a lot of stress lately?

“You are going to be fine,” Maes spoke softly, his lips hovering just above Roy’s damp hair. He could smell the faintest scent of his shampoo that caused his locks to be silky and soft, always shining and catching the rays of the sun to highlight.

Roy wasn’t sobbing, but his chest was moving rapidly as if he were, or running a long distance. Without Maes’ comfort, he would have fallen completely to pieces probably. Only Maes had this miracle and calming effect for when he allowed himself to become this monster of vulnerability, to surrender completely to emotions that made him human.

“It is all over, nothing you can do to change your past,” Maes advised as he planted a gentle kiss to the top of Roy’s head, as he would Elicia if she were having a nightmare and climbed into his and Gracia’s bed in the middle of a night such as this. But instead of the parent-child feeling it was supposed to generate, it was as if electricity had spread from Hughe’s lips through Roy’s brain.

His senses screamed to life with a ferocity that had never been generated by a woman’s touch in all of the years he had been on many dates only ending in simple contact. It was similar to a fire crawling through his body as he flushed by the blood rising to the surface of his skin. His normally highly trained scientific mind had no answer for why that reaction was generated.

His dark eyes rose from the soft material of Maes’ shirt to his glass covered, luminescent eyes as full of curiosity and question. He knew he hadn’t dreamed his lips touching his head, or why it should matter if they did or not. Maes’ was comfortably married and with a family wasn’t he? It was an awkward moment of confusion and wonder.

“Did you…?” Roy didn’t even allow himself to finish his question, knowing that Hughes would understand what he was trying to voice. The older man stared down at him, a slow smile forming on his lips.

“Yes I did. Guess, it was just a force of habit,” he explained sheepishly, although he wondered if it was as much habit as it was heat of the moment. It didn’t look like Roy was upset right away though, as he was more surprised than anything else. Wasn’t he used to affection from all sorts of women that he dated or stole from other members of the military? Was it somehow different?

Much to the surprise of himself and Hughes, Roy requested: “Could you do that again?” Maes chuckled softly before his gentle lips touched Roy’s hair again, absorbing some of the moisture there. He wanted to feel the shock to his system that pulled him from his self inflicted pits of despair into utter confusion as for how he felt about this particular touch.

The same warming sensation began to cover his body as Maes’ lips lingered there a little longer, his mouth forming a smile at Roy’s change in manner. It started in his head and spread all the way to his bare toes, his boots and socks so wet he could have wrung them into an empty glass for a full one. It was a stark contrast to the desolate and chill he had first appeared with.

“You like that do you?” Maes smiled down at him, over the edge of the glasses. Roy was still clutching onto the front of his shirt, directly in his lap. He was smiling because it was nice to see something that pulled Roy out of himself faster than his dry sob sessions.

Roy asserted his answer with a simple and quick nod of his head. He wasn’t sure when the last time was that he had felt this way. He wanted more, but was embarrassed to ask for it. That would have made him stranger than normal, requesting attention from his best male friend; especially when they were both supposed the company of a good woman.

Maes’ hands pulled Roy a little further into his lap, so that he was forced to move his hands to his shoulders from their firm grip, leaving the material rumpled. He almost had to straddle Hughes to be at eyelevel with him as the older man smiled almost mischievously. That feeling of his memories crushing him was taking a back burner, but still roaming the edges of his sub conscious like a hungry predator.

“What about this?” Maes asked as he slowly moved in, tilting his head to the left and molding his lips over Roy’s. The action was simple and Roy held very still as his body flushed over again. The memories were pushed back a little further than before, but still he needed more to make them disappear. His body hungrily absorbed the warmth from Maes’ as he could feel a moan low in his throat.

“Or this?” Maes questioned as he moved from Roy’s lips, using his nose to tilt the other man’s neck as to expose more skin for him to touch and caress softly with the supple skin of his mouth as he pressed lush ministrations to the gentle curve. It was impossible for Roy to stop his fingers from digging Maes’ shoulders as he moved slowly.

“Yes,” Roy gasped, his adam’s apple bobbing just beneath the skin of his throat. Was this why Gracia had married Maes? Was it his kiss? The silky soft of his lips, the rough scratch of his ever present facial hair? The empty feeling was starting to disintegrate all together, as long as Hughes continued what he was doing.

“Tell me that you want me to continue,” Maes told him gruffly, the sound rumbling low in his throat as one of his hands traveled up Roy’s back to cuff the back of his neck firmly as his other wrapped around his waist, melding their bodies together. Roy had never heard him use that particular tone of voice, it sending shivers down his spine as he complied.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, “continue.” His hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, his mouth gasping like a fish out of water as he tried to think of anything to say. Was this wrong if he didn’t initiate it nor try to stop it? Roy felt a particularly throaty moan forming, pressing his lips over it to hold the offending sound inside.

Maes could feel the struggle and scraped his teeth lightly over the skin, to encourage the sound, tumbling from Roy’s glossed mouth, to hear just how much the younger flame alchemist was enjoying his touch. It was such a wonton noise and experience for him, to have his best married male friend act in this manner and encourage this behavior.

He was panting furiously, the flesh under the clothing becoming agitated with fresh desire and a craving for more. Roy couldn’t stop his body from rubbing sensuously against Maes, the area between his silken thighs growing more heated by the second with every ministration.

“You like that don’t you Roy?” Maes growled against his skin before he tugged at the collar of the shirt temptingly. “This is turning you on,” he commented. His fingers gently stroked the back of his neck, raking through the short, ebony locks in the back.

“Mm, yes,” he moaned as he threw his head back into Maes’ palm. He felt alive, on fire, more so than ever before, probably since becoming a certified alchemist or earning the rank of ‘colonel.’ The emptiness was gone temporarily at least, the crushing weight of guilt he had bore on his shoulders for a long time now. It had melted away with Hughes’ first kiss.

“Then let’s take this shirt off,” Maes’ smiled as the hand on his waist began to creep under the borrowed shirt, dancing across Roy’s yielding skin as he began to pull it upward with a little help. It landed in a pale heap on the rug in front of the couch as their lips met again in a sensuous kiss, his hands moving over the unrestricted territory.

Roy’s bare skin was met with the pleasant material of the other man’s shirt, his whole upper body physique prominent against Maes’ clothed chest. “But it is only fair,” Roy told him breathlessly, “if yours is gone too.” He raked his fingers down the thin cloth to the hem and pulled it upward as well, Hughes taking over as soon as it reached his ribs, it joining the other on the floor.

It wasn’t a meeting of an unfaithful husband and his queer colonel, but an easing of pain in a sensuous session to aid a friend in need, at least that was how they were both rationalizing it out as their lips connected again. It was a beautiful step in deepening a strong and sturdy friendship. Hughes knew that Roy needed this.

Their arms entwined around each other’s body as Hughes held him close, planting lavish kisses to the curve of his neck and chest, appreciating the firmness of his structure. Maes’ usually slightly messy hair was even more disarrayed by Roy’s fingers. They were covered in a thin sheen of sweat, while their tongues danced on the other’s the intrusion welcomed, their kissing heady and needed.

The gentle and intimate contact of their skin made quiet sucking and scraping noises. Roy had always held a strict appreciation for fire, and this time was no different, since his skin seemed to be contaminated with the very element.

It wasn’t so long before Hughes pushed him into the plush cushions of the couch, supporting his weight above him, his lips trailing from Roy’s supple neck to the smoothly muscled region of his chest. Roy arched his back and listened to the wanton moans coupled with the gruff breathing of Hughes above him, kneeling between his thighs.

Roy’s fingers rested in his hair as he gave lavish attention to the pallid skin that hardly anyone was ever free to look upon. He would never trust anyone else to do this with him, to allow his body to be touched in such a manner.

“You know Colonel Mustang,” Maes smiled as he trailed his fingers down, looking up at Roy through half lowered, seductive eyelids, “you have such beautiful skin, so pale and perfect,” he explained as he punctuated each word with a single touch of his lips to another part. Even the scars adorning the surface were beautiful in his eyes.

Roy’s groin was alive and prominent to both of them as he moaned and tried to form coherent thoughts or at least intelligible strings of text. The nightmares that had driven him to the streets were gone under single desires of Hughes.

“You know Lieutenant Colonel, if you don’t continue I will fry you once my gloves dry,” Roy threatened hollowly, both of them knowing he would never do such a thing to him.

“Oh and if I do?” he asked, hooking a finger in the waistband of the shorts, tugging gently, just enough to expose his well developed and sculpted hips another inch or two. His breathing hitched, making him appear a little needier than he had intended. He was allowing his body to surrender to primal urges and wants.

“I…” His words died in his throat, replaced with a guttural moan as Hughes freed his aching, engorged member from the tented confines, his calloused fingertips slowly caressing the sensitive surface. He would take it lying down if Hughes continued. They would try to justify this later, or avoid the subject altogether, but that hardly mattered now when Hughes lips closed around the bright pink and shining with pre-cum head.

His tongue gently parted the delicate slit as Roy’s eyes rolled back inside of his head while he tried to grasp for something to hold on to, for he felt as if he were going to float away. His stomach flip-flopped as a fresh batch of sweat began to form. Any memory of the rain or the cold was lost as Hughes began to hollow his cheeks and suck.

He hummed a little as he continued to pleasure Roy enjoying the multiple expressions of gratification he was displaying and creating on his best friend’s face. Roy was feeling better already and that made him happy. He was driving the nightmares away, like water to a fire. He was Roy’s water, his color.

“If you,” Roy started breathlessly, “continue like-“ A chaste kiss to the head, “this, I’m going to-“

“Cmmmph,” Hughes smiled as he pulled away for the last time. Roy’s head was still shining with his saliva, still bright pink and standing as proud as a flagpole. “Not yet,” Hughes teased as he pulled the boxers down his pale thighs, to his ankles, and tossed them to the side.

Roy sat up, propping himself on his elbows, as Hughes got up from between his legs and stripped his own boxers off. “I’ll be right back,” he smiled as he set off for the bedroom to retrieve something. The empty lonely feeling was ready to pounce again, seeing how susceptible Roy was at the moment.

Hughes dug around in the drawer on the nightstand for the lubricant that he kept there for when he and Gracia would sometimes get intimate under tight circumstanced. It would be perfect to keep from hurting Roy, so that he could enjoy himself. When he walked back, he found Roy leaning against the couch, waiting with a large smile plastered on his face.

“So bend over for me Colonel,” Hughes smiled as he opened the bottle and coated his fingers in a gracious amount. Mustang complied, though having trouble taking his eyes off of how turned on Hughes actually was at this point.

Of course from being in the military things had been passed around and joked about so that they were not in the least in the dark for as how the process went down. Roy wasn’t afraid of the pain that might be involved, if the ends justified the means.

Hughes fingers penetrated his entrance as he braced against the couch for support. He felt like his knees might give out on him. The intrusion was nothing he couldn’t handle though; just strange considering this was his first time. Hughes murmured gently into his ear, nibbling on the lobe as he stretched and readied him, encouraging him.

“You’ll feel better in no time,” he whispered as he coated his member with copious amounts. His hands gently rubbed over Roy’s firm derriere before locking on his hips and pulling backward onto himself as slowly as possible. Roy couldn’t help the cry as he was slid all the way up to the hilt.

It was just a sting, the lubricant aiding in preventing the sensitive area from tearing and causing him further injury. Inside of Roy, it was hot and pulsating like lava, Hughes noted, different from a woman. His cheeks reddened as he realized that he enjoyed it, the tightness. His lips pressed and drifted over the skin of Roy’s neck as he quietly reassured him.

The flame alchemist was grateful as he gave himself plenty of time to adjust before he gave Hughes the command to continue. There was no going back after this surrender, after giving his body to Hughes, the only person that he had wanted to share it with, deep down.

Hughes continued slowly, pumping in and out of him while one hand moved to gently stroke his engorged member, his thumb on top and the other fingers wrapped around. Roy’s fingers dug into the floral upholstery as his pale back arched against Maes’ chest while his other hand pushed the alchemist’s body to his.

It wasn’t hard to find Roy’s sweet spot and to ram it almost continuously, causing the younger man to arch against him, his lips and mouth moving in an immodest fashion. But he was beautiful none the less covered in sweat, his hair pasted to his forehead.

Maes knew that he would be hitting his limit soon; he could feel it uncurling in the pit of his stomach. “That’s it Roy, get ready to cum for me,” he encouraged with a playful nip to his earlobe under the black hair.

Roy responded with heavy pants and grunts as he pushed his hips back against Hughes’ with loud and rapid slapping noises from the contact. “That’s it,” he encouraged as he pumped faster. “Cum for me Roy, right now,” he panted, their hot breath mixing as he gave one final squeeze as pearly essence spilled in hot arcs all over his fingers and palm from covering the end to keep from it hitting the couch.

With a few more erratic thrusts, he shot his load into Roy’s derrière, collapsing on his back as he collapsed over the side, full contact with the material against his heated skin. No words were needed at this point in time as both men tried to collect their breathing. Roy could feel the same essence that created Elicia running down the insides of his thighs as Hughes gently kissed him for a while.

“You know, I love you,” Hughes spoke quietly. The words sounded foreign to Roy’s unbelieving ears. No one ever told them that they loved him. But he ran the words over and over again, knowing they were real.

“I…love you too,” he spoke, the phrase tasting different, but somehow wonderful. He did love his best friend. Nothing would change that. He had just never voiced it. Maes was the first to move, but only to grab something to clean them up with before he invited Roy to lay on the couch with him, as best they both could, given the size.

They wrapped up in a blanket, Roy’s head on Maes bare chest, his dark hair sticking to both of them as he fell into an easy and light sleep with the other man’s fingers brushing through his hair while the other hand stroked his skin.

It had taken less time than usual to calm him down by this method. It was more enjoyable this way, for both of them, he smiled. He didn’t feel guilty, since they both knew it was to help, for love, the sake of friends. The last time Roy had done this was late at work before Gracia was pregnant and he had stayed at Central all night to console him by holding him close.

It pained him to know that Roy would probably never get over the memories completely, but he hoped that he could always be there to help him out, in the best way he knew how, for as long as he needed him. Even he knew that the love of a good woman wouldn’t be enough to console him the way only Hughes could.

And with this thought, Hughes smiled and fell asleep as well, listening to Roy’s heartbeat against the pitter-patter of the rain.

X

“Thank you,” Roy smiled as the heavy coat fell into place. “I really appreciate this,” he smiled, actually smiled instead of smirked. It was just an hour or two before they had to return to Central, to their normal lives and jobs.

“Anything for you,” Hughes chuckled as he began to fuss with the buttons on his uniform. Roy moved his hands aside and began to adjust them for him. “You know, anytime.” Roy coughed and turned his face, even though Hughes couldn’t miss the blush that had crept there.

“I wouldn’t have made it through the night probably,” Roy admitted as his arms wrapped around Maes’ neck.

“I don’t believe so.” Maes’ hands rested comfortably on Roy’s hips, a sign of trust and bonding. Roy’s head rested on his shoulder for a few minutes, inhaling the unique floral-wood scent he always seemed to have for some strange reason. His clothes were still slightly damp, but he couldn’t complain. “You are very important to me Roy,” Maes told him as he brought his lips over to place a soft kiss to Roy’s.

The younger man nodded quietly, before he responded with a phrase similar. “I don’t think I tell you enough,” Roy explained. Hughes’ hands gently squeezed his hips.

“I mean it Roy, anytime you need me, I’ll be waiting,” he spoke seriously, making sure that Roy grasped what he was trying to convey.

“Thank you.” They were silent, awkward for a few moments longer, each reliving the previous night.

“So tonight, would you like to stay here and look at baby pictures of Elicia with me? She is getting so big now,” Hughes grinned as he pulled an ever present picture from a pocket. Normally, Roy would have responded through tight lips with some type of sarcastic ‘no’ or a varying form of decline while rolling his dark eyes.

But this time, his simple answer was “Yes, I would like that after work then.” They parted ways, each smiling in the bright and non-threatening air of the new day, the perfect blue sky reflected in the vast puddles.

X

The end.