His touch was always something he could never get enough of. It didn’t matter where he touched him, as long as he did. Sometimes a simply pat on the shoulder, or an accidental brush of his hand on his as they walked side by side, was enough to reassure him, to appease him.

He didn’t like feeling so dependent. He didn’t like the fact the man now had so much power over him because of the way his body made him feel. He didn’t like the fact he craved this naked contact so much and so arduously. He didn’t like the fact he had fallen so hard and so fast for a man that annoyed him, made fun of him, treated him like a kid, and all in all seemed to consider him with the lowest of regards. But there wasn’t much he could do about it.

When he was alone in whatever hotel room his brother and he managed to get for a night when they were away from Central City headquarters, he thought and wondered exactly how it was that man had come to claim him, and had, unknowingly, probably saved him from certain insanity. There really wasn’t much to the story.

It had been another one of those nights for the famous Elric brother, a night in which he was once again awakened by his never-ending, repetitive nightmares of blood and pain and infinite guilt. He had, as he usually did, been wandering around the city and had, once again, found himself in the State Alchemist Library reading some book or other he wouldn’t remember come morning. The only thing that had been different that night had been the sudden air drift in the room as the door to the section was opened and closed.

He’d looked up then, expecting to see a guard who would, by the powers that be, call him a shrimp, pick him up by the scuff of his shirt and promptly kick him out of the library, after which he would mindlessly wander the streets until he felt he was tired enough to collapse on his mattress and sleep. But it hadn’t been a guard who greeted him when he looked up. It had been a tired looking, disheveled and pissed off Colonel still wearing his pajamas with a trench coat over them.

‘It’s all your brother’s fault,’ he had told him. ‘He called me up yelling something or other about you going missing and that it was my responsibility as your superior to look for you. You should talk to him about what happened with Scar,’ he had gone on to say after a moment of silence as both of Ed’s eyebrows had gone up. The shorter boy hadn’t deemed a reply to the last comment worthy, too stunned by the obviously crappy lie the Colonel had just delivered.

He had watched as the man sat down in front of him and began snapping his fingers, observing his digits as if he was expecting flames to rise up despite the obvious lack of gloves. The only problem was that he had kept on watching, forgetting about his book and getting strange ideas about the Colonel, his digits, and himself. He kept on staring, waiting for a flame and wondering how it was the Colonel kept his hands so well manicured and cared for.

He hadn’t seen Roy’s glazed eyes looking at him, nor had he noticed when the man got up from the chair and approached him (his eyes were glued to the man’s hands and had followed their every movement). He only realized how close the older man was to him when those hands lifted up and encased his face in them, forcing him to look in front of him and the eyes that went with the face he was now staring at.

He hadn’t been sure what exactly was happening, not when Roy’s face had gotten closer to his and not even when the other’s lips were on his, gentle and demanding, asking and taking all at the same time over and over until an acute pain on his forearm made him gasp and feel the sudden, and strange, texture of the Colonel’s tongue inside his mouth, seeking and conquering and empowering.

A fleeing thought of shame at allowing a man who was at least ten years his senior do this to him had passed through his mind and nagged at his consciousness until his brain had politely told it to shove it up its ass because he needed this. He needed the touch, and the human skin contact as the Colonel’s –no, as Roy’s hands –had wandered up his tee-shirt and begun tracing his muscles with smooth, fluttering fingers. He needed the presence of another being, a being he could feel warmth with, and feel safe with, as Roy pushed him back on the chair and he lifted his butt off it so his trousers could be lowered.

He’d never done anything like this before, and had never thought he’d be doing it with a man, with this man, and in a library, but as Roy’s soft hands continued to caress him and continued to tease him, he decided he didn’t care. He opted to simply ignore the place in which he was and instead try to understand what exactly was going on. Of course, that course of action failed miserably when Roy’s tongue probed out and began licking his dick, over and over, all around it, and his brain declared early retirement.

He had been speechless when Roy’s mouth encased his engorged member and had decided at that moment that his brain had the right idea after all as he placed both hands on Roy’s head and gave out a low, ecstatic moan from the back of his throat. He had shuddered and withered and –much to his embarrassment –whimpered throughout the entire blowjob, and when he came, he had bit his lips as one of Roy’s hands covered his mouth and the other kept his flesh and blood leg opened wide so he wouldn’t accidentally smash the older man’s head between his limbs.

He had opened his eyes after a while, wondering when it was he had closed them in the first place, and had stared at the black eyes watching him silently, waiting for an answer, waiting for something, anything. Without thinking he had reached out to the man, slid off the chair and brought those salty lips to his, tasting himself and wondering exactly what it was he was doing. He slowly sat back down and liked his lips, gazing at the bulge in Roy’s pants curiously.

‘Why me?’ he had asked. It had been his first words to the Colonel, and now he wasn’t sure those had been the right ones.

‘I don’t know,’ he had answered, never tearing his gaze away from the boy in front of him. ‘You looked cute. You always look cute.’

‘Is that all?’ Again he hadn’t been sure he had wanted to ask that question, but he had been in no position of processing coherent thoughts (his brain had retired, after all).

‘No.’

That had been all the words exchanged. Afterwards he had quickly dispensed Roy of his pants and had tortured the man as he switched his ministrations from his warm hand to his cold metallic one and then to his mouth, sucking and licking and blowing, driving the man insane and enjoying every minute of it. He’d decided right then and there that if this were to happen again, Roy would be warned that he wouldn’t let the Colonel have his way without a fight.

He had smirked when the older man had grabbed his long hair and groaned loudly, despite his teeth biting his lips and Ed’s hand covering his mouth (a mirror image of what had happened to the younger boy a few minutes before). He had come hard into the boy’s mouth and moaned further as he swallowed nearly all of it and licked his lips sensually afterwards, finishing everything with a long, hard kiss.

After that both of them had gotten dressed, made a trip to one of the many bathrooms in the library and gone back to their own rooms. Not a word more had been exchanged between both men about what had happened that night, and neither had an urge to bring forth the feelings involved in their now strange relationship.

It was because of that night that Ed now craved the man’s touch. He hadn’t realized how much he missed being touch tenderly; being held and stroked as if everything he did was okay, as if everything that went wrong would be all right in the end. Maybe this was the reason he felt so raw inside of himself all the time. He needed that comfort. He needed someone to give him that sense of togetherness, and for some incomprehensible reason, Roy Mustang had willingly volunteered to be the human being who would provide this to him.

And so now he was addicted.

And to tell you the truth, he enjoyed every minute of it.

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