Fraternization -- ArcherxHand, MustangxHavoc
Title: Fraternization
Author: freaky_zero
Genre: Introspective smut?
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: ArcherxHand, MustangxHavoc
Spoilers: Not...really?
Word Count: Approx. 3,025
Warnings & Notes: This is my first time writing Archer as well as my first time writing masturbation, so I'm not sure how good it will be. Plus, I've got a...unique interpretation of Archer, please don't eat me if you disagree.... And, the timeline is skewed.
Marginally unbeta'd until tomorrow sometime. I do my best, but, sadly, I can't catch everything. If you see any errors, please point them out. I appreciate it.
DEAR FLIST AND RANDOM PASSERBY, THIS IS YAOI; DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.
Written for the fma_fuh_q for the month of March.
He wanted to grin; the urge threatened to stretch painfully into his cheeks and crack the cool mask of indifference that he kept firmly affixed to his features at all times. Had he been a lesser man, he might have given into the desire. As it was, he didn’t, slowly raising an eyebrow at the blond lieutenant standing motionless in front of his desk, instead.
“Well, Lieutenant?” He asked softly, gaze cooling by several degrees. “Surely you still recognize an order even after working underneath,” he paused and smirked, daring to show the expression only because he was in present company, “Mustang for so long.”
The blond visibly bristled at that, lips clamping angrily down around the unlit cigarette pressed between them. Archer allowed the smirk to stretch for the briefest second; then carefully wiped all traces of it from his countenance. He doubted the Lieutenant would understand its full implications.
Though truthfully he’d expected Havoc to break under his scrutiny, turn into a puddle of stammering, blushing excuses. Archer was pleasantly surprised to find that it was just the opposite. He’d always had a thing for blondes, strong willed blondes were even better. And better yet, lots of brawn and little brain made for even more fun because it was easily backed into a corner.
“Lieutenant,” he said softly, tone sharp all the same, “I’d suggest that you do as ordered or you’ll be under scrutiny for much more than you already are. You do realize that you’re acting very suspicious, I’m sure. This is not really an appropriate time to be drawing that sort of negative attention to yourself, don’t you think?”
The blond stiffened and Archer suppressed another smirk. He’d never been the type to enjoy frivolous pastimes, but if this situation could be equated to fishing, he’d just landed a ‘big one’; hook, line, and sinker.
Havoc lifted the receiver of the phone on the corner of his desk and began to dial.
It was only a few short minutes before Mustang pushed the door of his office open, stalking into the room as if he owned it. Arrogant; some things never changed. The other man’s dark eyes narrowed when they landed on him, angry and hateful. He thought he was good at hiding his thoughts, emotions, Archer was sure, because his face was very carefully blank--almost as faultless as Archer’s own mask--, but the effort was wasted every time, because his eyes gave him away.
The desire to smirk grew, but he pushed it away firmly. Mustang was much more difficult to manipulate, give the man an inch and he’d take a mile. He was irritating, but a worthy opponent, all the same. To him it was a sort of friendly rivalry, the competition between Mustang and himself (though if he had to guess by the daggers the other man was glaring at him, he wouldn’t say that Mustang would say the same).
“Archer.”
He turned his full gaze from Havoc to Mustang as the other Colonel stepped in front of his desk. They were the same rank, now, but Mustang never saw fit to acknowledge it farther than he still had seniority. Hearing the other man address him by his last name was something like having splinters wedged beneath his fingernails; he deserved the respect that Mustang wasn’t giving him, he’d worked his way up from the bottom, unlike any state alchemist who started off a Major.
Still, it was almost worth it when Mustang degraded him because now, he could fight fire with fire, so to speak.
“Mustang.”
The corners of Mustang’s mouth tightened and Archer wished he could take the moment to openly gloat. Instead, he stood.
“Have a seat,” he murmured, crossing the room to close the office door.
He could almost hear the two men stiffen as he clicked the lock into place. Archer smiled at the door, an expression that couldn’t have been called pleasant and took a moment to compose himself before turning back to them.
His boots clicked audibly across the floor as he took his time walking back to his desk.
”Would you like to know why I requested you were both here…?” he asked finally, coming to stand in front of his desk, he raised a brow, looking down at the two sitting before him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Archer, of course we want to know.”
Mustang was talking down to him again, but it didn’t concern Archer as much as it could have. It would stop soon enough, after all. Though it was almost a shame since, just listening, the other man’s voice was rather pleasant in its element (verbal sparring, it seemed); all low, smooth velvet. Maybe Archer would have Mustang sing, just to hear him. There were so many things he could do, with what he knew…
He allowed himself another small smirk; it couldn’t hurt to let Mustang know that he was going to play this card for all it was worth and it would make the bastard wonder. Mustang and Havoc both frowned in response and Archer took the moment to clear his throat.
“Well, since you’re so eager to begin,” he murmured softly, reaching for his desk drawer, turning the key and pulling it open to slip out an envelope he’d procured earlier in the day for just this purpose.
“You said I was under suspicion,” Havoc spoke up for the first time since he’d been called into Archer’s office, barring his call to Mustang, of course.
Archer tilted his head in acknowledgment.
“I did, but perhaps I was a bit hasty with my word choice. There’s really no suspicion,” he pushed the envelope towards them, letting them decide who would be the one to open it. “It’s actually hard evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Mustang practically snarled, snatching up the envelope from between the two and tugging it open.
He timed his response to the man realizing just what the envelope held.
“Fraternization.”
Mustang went pale, then red, and finally pale again, before slowly lifting his gaze away from the picture. Archer applauded himself for the foresight of having it, as well as various others, taken. There seemed to be no way to corner the other man without some sort of hard evidence and now, at long last, he had it.
“What do you want?”
Archer’s smirk made a slow, lazy reappearance. It was all the work that led to this moment that made it worthwhile. He could say that he had a friendly rivalry with Mustang as many times as he wanted, but he doubted there were many other ‘rivalries’ he could have gained this feeling of satisfaction from. It was competition and it was something else. Something he didn’t want to scrutinize too closely, though it really didn’t matter any more because he had won. He had finally won.
“Well?”
His attention turned back to Mustang and he raised a brow in mild surprise. Maybe the other man was better at hiding his emotions than Archer had originally guessed. Mustang’s gaze was calm, shuttered, but, again, it didn’t matter. He’d get what he wanted.
“Despite what you might think, Mustang, I’m not an unnecessarily cruel man and see no reason to…,” he paused thoughtfully. “Act hastily with this situation. Fraternization, as I’m sure you’re aware, is not tolerated, but I’m sure there’s something we could work out. There were ancient cultures who encouraged this kind of relationship, after all, so certainly there must be benefits to-,”
“Would you cut the bullshit?!”
He blinked, surprised, but at the same time not, at Havoc’s interruption. The blond was the wild card in this whole game, after all. Archer blinked at him, mollified when the blond began to squirm a bit, unnerved by his gaze.
“….Very well,” he said softly, staring directly at the blond. “Prove that what you have is worth it. I’m assuming that if you’re risking your careers and possibly your lives for this, you…love,” his lips formed a sneer around the rather distasteful word, “each other. Prove it to me. I want to see it.”
Archer leaned back in his chair slowly, gaze shifting from Havoc to Mustang; back and forth. The blond looked ready to faint and Mustang looked as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do.
Of course, he really didn’t care whether they loved each other or not. This was leverage, pure and simple. How humiliating would it be to perform this act, something that was supposed to be one of the most private things in life, in front of someone you hated? And at that person’s order, no less. The show wouldn’t be half bad either, he was sure; both Mustang and Havoc were very attractive men.
“Prove it how?” Mustang broke the silence after several minutes, eyes narrowed thoughtfully in Archer’s direction.
Reaching into the same drawer as before, Archer pulled out a slim bottle of gun lubricant, and tilted his head calculatedly.
“The door’s locked.”
Havoc made a wheezing sound of disbelief, but Mustang’s reaction was muted, nearly disappointing.
“That’s all?”
“Boss, you can’t really-,” the blond started, but was cut off by Mustang’s lifted hand.
Archer inclined his head slightly. “For now.”
“What do we get out of it?”
Archer smirked freely. “The higher ups won’t be seeing this.” He tapped the envelope and picture carefully.
“You have more.”
“Of course.”
“What’s to keep you from showing those?”
“Nothing.”
The corners of Mustang’s lips tightened, lines creasing his cheeks. “So what do we really get out of it?”
“Time really is a precious commodity, don’t you think, Colonel?”
Mustang fell silent, working the words over in his head. Archer was giving them time; time to get the rest of the pictures away from him, time to figure out how to discredit the photos if necessary, time to run, time for any number of things… He nodded slightly.
“Nothing unreasonable.” Because there was no doubt they’d find themselves in this office again, with the same threat hanging over their heads.
“What’s unreasonable?” Archer asked softly, quirking a brow in question.
“Death.”
He nodded slowly. “Nothing unreasonable. You should find the sofa, suitable to your needs.” Archer gestured towards the couch behind them.
Mustang turned slowly to Havoc, who was flushing and staring at him as if he’d grown three more heads or something equally horrifying.
“S-S-Sir! I don’t-,” he started, only to be cut off by Mustang again.
“Jean,” he said softly. “Trust me.”
Archer shifted in his chair, almost discomfited as the blond nodded, feeling like an intruder in his own office. He’d expected a lot of things as he’d planned this over the week, but watching them make their way to the couch, lubrication clutched in one of Mustang’s hands as they began to undress each other, Archer knew this hadn’t been one of them.
When he’d stumbled across them in the break room nearly a week and a half before, they’d been going at it hot and hard, not even fully undressed and bent over one of the round tables in the room. They’d never noticed Archer in the doorway, there to wash his coffee cup for use the next morning before finally heading home.
Since then, all he’d been thinking about was getting one up on Mustang and maybe relieving a bit of extra tension while he was at it. But this…this was different than what he’d stumbled upon in the break room.
This was soft touches and low moans; Mustang didn’t even have Havoc fully undressed yet and the blond was panting, clutching Mustang’s head, pulling and tugging at his hair as a pink tongue swiped teasingly over his nipple.
“R-Roy…”
The blond’s moan went straight through Archer, a spike of heat aimed directly at his cock. He was riveted, unable to tear his eyes away as Mustang tugged at the nipple with his teeth before pulling away to kiss Havoc deeply, hand sliding from the blond’s waist into the waistband of his pants.
Havoc groaned, hips bucking into Mustang’s touch, moaning softly and allowing himself to be pushed onto the couch as his commanding officer tugged his pants open with one hand. Archer’s hand slid beneath his desk, rubbing firmly up his inside thigh.
He felt like an intruder, but the result of watching the two men before him couldn’t be put off. He was male, after all, it would be next to impossible not to get hard, seeing this. As well as hearing it. They were kissing now, though nothing like the first kiss. These were short, soft gestures, murmurs and moans interspersed between them.
Mustang was stroking Havoc’s cock now, and it was enough to make Archer’s breath catch in his throat, watching. The blond’s hips were jerking erratically into Mustang’s fist, soft noises of pleasure escaping him as the other man’s hand squeezed, pre-cum glistening from the head of his cock.
His hand slid up farther, pressing firmly against his balls and massaging through his pants as Mustang maneuvered Havoc gracefully onto his hands and knees, kissing a trail down his spine as one hand opened the lube Archer had given them. Archer’s finger pressed a poorly mimicked trial up the length of his cock, hissing softly at the uncomfortable sensation of the confining cloth of his pants rubbing against him.
Watching as Mustang slipped a lubed finger into Havoc, Archer carefully tugged his pants open, not wanting to miss a second of the show unfolding before him. The blond hissed, pushing back against the finger despite the discomfort it caused him.
“Slow, Jean,” Mustang murmured, leaning over him to kiss and suck gently at the back of his neck.
Something stabbed through Archer, not the delicious heat from before, but just as sharp, resonating through his chest as he watched the two. Then Mustang was slowly pushing another digit into Havoc and the blond was moaning softly, tilting his head back in pleasure and whatever had ensnared Archer for that single moment was gone.
Havoc rocked carefully back on his commanding officer’s digits, and Archer wondered how tight it felt inside of the blond, slowly wrapping his fingers around his erection and stroking firmly as Mustang lubed his erection. Then the other man was pulling his fingers out of the blond and pressing his cock teasingly against Havoc’s entrance.
“Do you want this?” Mustang murmured, leaning forward against him, shifting his hips, teasingly rubbing his erection against the blond.
“Y-yes,” Havoc half-sobbed, fingers digging into the couch cushions, attempting to push back against the other man, eager, despite how unsure he’d been before.
Archer’s grip tightened around his own cock, hips rising into his touch as Mustang slid into Havoc, a long groan escaping the other Colonel. All three of them were still for a long moment, ragged breaths escaping into the quiet of the office.
Mustang stroked his hands gently down Havoc’s sides, waiting for the blond to give him a signal to go ahead. Archer, playing the part of the intruder still, waited to move with them, subconsciously wanting to be a part of whatever this was, however he could.
The blond pushed back against Mustang with a sigh, after several agonizing moments, and the two on the couch moaned low and rough, as Mustang pulled back, thrusting into Havoc, slowly at first. Archer bit back a soft, strangled noise that might have been a moan if he’d let it escape him.
He matched their thrusts, starting slowly, as they did, then speeding with them as he stroked his cock, short pants falling from his lips. He caressed his balls as Mustang reached around to stroke Havoc, another choked sound falling from his lips as he tried to imagine what they were feeling as they moved together.
His hand tightened around his cock, squeezing teasingly here and there as he stroked, his thumb pressing hard over the head of his erection as Mustang began to slam into Havoc, the blond sobbing in pleasure. Archer’s vision began to fade, pleasure building inside of him.
“R-Roy! Please, I’m g-going to…ngh!”
Archer jerked at Havoc’s words, imagining the other man’s orgasm as he watched Mustang move hard into the blond and bit his lip, the thought dragging him over the edge into blackness, the warm slickness of his release splashing over his hand.
When he opened his eyes again, the couch was empty. Mustang standing by the arm, fully dressed and Havoc was buttoning up his top beside him. Archer had missed it, the part where Mustang was supposed to be vulnerable before him. He cursed himself mentally. He’d missed the entire reason he’d set this up!
They turned to him as Havoc straightened his jacket and Archer shifted in his chair, sitting up properly.
“I’ll keep this to myself, then. For now,” he said coolly, ignoring the gravelly quality to his voice that hadn’t been there earlier. He tilted his head thoughtfully, regarding them silently for a moment. “I’ll need to see you both back here next week, though.” He smirked. “Just to be thorough.”
Havoc looked aghast at the suggestion, but Mustang merely inclined his head before walking towards the door. The blond followed him, glancing over his shoulder at Archer almost as if he were going to be eaten as he pulled the door closed behind him and his commanding officer.
Archer sagged in his chair as the door clicked closed, feeling relieved and an entirely new kind of tense at the same time. He hadn’t gotten what he was after this time, but he would next time or even the time after. Mustang would keep coming back until Archer had no leverage over him. And he had no intentions of losing this leverage.
Tilting his head back, Archer sighed. Some part of him was amazed that this had happened, but he supposed it was one of the advantages of knowing his ‘enemy’. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a tissue to clean himself with, wondering if he could convince them to allow him to join next time. It wasn’t unreasonable, after all.
Author: freaky_zero
Genre: Introspective smut?
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: ArcherxHand, MustangxHavoc
Spoilers: Not...really?
Word Count: Approx. 3,025
Warnings & Notes: This is my first time writing Archer as well as my first time writing masturbation, so I'm not sure how good it will be. Plus, I've got a...unique interpretation of Archer, please don't eat me if you disagree.... And, the timeline is skewed.
Marginally unbeta'd until tomorrow sometime. I do my best, but, sadly, I can't catch everything. If you see any errors, please point them out. I appreciate it.
DEAR FLIST AND RANDOM PASSERBY, THIS IS YAOI; DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.
Written for the fma_fuh_q for the month of March.
He wanted to grin; the urge threatened to stretch painfully into his cheeks and crack the cool mask of indifference that he kept firmly affixed to his features at all times. Had he been a lesser man, he might have given into the desire. As it was, he didn’t, slowly raising an eyebrow at the blond lieutenant standing motionless in front of his desk, instead.
“Well, Lieutenant?” He asked softly, gaze cooling by several degrees. “Surely you still recognize an order even after working underneath,” he paused and smirked, daring to show the expression only because he was in present company, “Mustang for so long.”
The blond visibly bristled at that, lips clamping angrily down around the unlit cigarette pressed between them. Archer allowed the smirk to stretch for the briefest second; then carefully wiped all traces of it from his countenance. He doubted the Lieutenant would understand its full implications.
Though truthfully he’d expected Havoc to break under his scrutiny, turn into a puddle of stammering, blushing excuses. Archer was pleasantly surprised to find that it was just the opposite. He’d always had a thing for blondes, strong willed blondes were even better. And better yet, lots of brawn and little brain made for even more fun because it was easily backed into a corner.
“Lieutenant,” he said softly, tone sharp all the same, “I’d suggest that you do as ordered or you’ll be under scrutiny for much more than you already are. You do realize that you’re acting very suspicious, I’m sure. This is not really an appropriate time to be drawing that sort of negative attention to yourself, don’t you think?”
The blond stiffened and Archer suppressed another smirk. He’d never been the type to enjoy frivolous pastimes, but if this situation could be equated to fishing, he’d just landed a ‘big one’; hook, line, and sinker.
Havoc lifted the receiver of the phone on the corner of his desk and began to dial.
It was only a few short minutes before Mustang pushed the door of his office open, stalking into the room as if he owned it. Arrogant; some things never changed. The other man’s dark eyes narrowed when they landed on him, angry and hateful. He thought he was good at hiding his thoughts, emotions, Archer was sure, because his face was very carefully blank--almost as faultless as Archer’s own mask--, but the effort was wasted every time, because his eyes gave him away.
The desire to smirk grew, but he pushed it away firmly. Mustang was much more difficult to manipulate, give the man an inch and he’d take a mile. He was irritating, but a worthy opponent, all the same. To him it was a sort of friendly rivalry, the competition between Mustang and himself (though if he had to guess by the daggers the other man was glaring at him, he wouldn’t say that Mustang would say the same).
“Archer.”
He turned his full gaze from Havoc to Mustang as the other Colonel stepped in front of his desk. They were the same rank, now, but Mustang never saw fit to acknowledge it farther than he still had seniority. Hearing the other man address him by his last name was something like having splinters wedged beneath his fingernails; he deserved the respect that Mustang wasn’t giving him, he’d worked his way up from the bottom, unlike any state alchemist who started off a Major.
Still, it was almost worth it when Mustang degraded him because now, he could fight fire with fire, so to speak.
“Mustang.”
The corners of Mustang’s mouth tightened and Archer wished he could take the moment to openly gloat. Instead, he stood.
“Have a seat,” he murmured, crossing the room to close the office door.
He could almost hear the two men stiffen as he clicked the lock into place. Archer smiled at the door, an expression that couldn’t have been called pleasant and took a moment to compose himself before turning back to them.
His boots clicked audibly across the floor as he took his time walking back to his desk.
”Would you like to know why I requested you were both here…?” he asked finally, coming to stand in front of his desk, he raised a brow, looking down at the two sitting before him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Archer, of course we want to know.”
Mustang was talking down to him again, but it didn’t concern Archer as much as it could have. It would stop soon enough, after all. Though it was almost a shame since, just listening, the other man’s voice was rather pleasant in its element (verbal sparring, it seemed); all low, smooth velvet. Maybe Archer would have Mustang sing, just to hear him. There were so many things he could do, with what he knew…
He allowed himself another small smirk; it couldn’t hurt to let Mustang know that he was going to play this card for all it was worth and it would make the bastard wonder. Mustang and Havoc both frowned in response and Archer took the moment to clear his throat.
“Well, since you’re so eager to begin,” he murmured softly, reaching for his desk drawer, turning the key and pulling it open to slip out an envelope he’d procured earlier in the day for just this purpose.
“You said I was under suspicion,” Havoc spoke up for the first time since he’d been called into Archer’s office, barring his call to Mustang, of course.
Archer tilted his head in acknowledgment.
“I did, but perhaps I was a bit hasty with my word choice. There’s really no suspicion,” he pushed the envelope towards them, letting them decide who would be the one to open it. “It’s actually hard evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Mustang practically snarled, snatching up the envelope from between the two and tugging it open.
He timed his response to the man realizing just what the envelope held.
“Fraternization.”
Mustang went pale, then red, and finally pale again, before slowly lifting his gaze away from the picture. Archer applauded himself for the foresight of having it, as well as various others, taken. There seemed to be no way to corner the other man without some sort of hard evidence and now, at long last, he had it.
“What do you want?”
Archer’s smirk made a slow, lazy reappearance. It was all the work that led to this moment that made it worthwhile. He could say that he had a friendly rivalry with Mustang as many times as he wanted, but he doubted there were many other ‘rivalries’ he could have gained this feeling of satisfaction from. It was competition and it was something else. Something he didn’t want to scrutinize too closely, though it really didn’t matter any more because he had won. He had finally won.
“Well?”
His attention turned back to Mustang and he raised a brow in mild surprise. Maybe the other man was better at hiding his emotions than Archer had originally guessed. Mustang’s gaze was calm, shuttered, but, again, it didn’t matter. He’d get what he wanted.
“Despite what you might think, Mustang, I’m not an unnecessarily cruel man and see no reason to…,” he paused thoughtfully. “Act hastily with this situation. Fraternization, as I’m sure you’re aware, is not tolerated, but I’m sure there’s something we could work out. There were ancient cultures who encouraged this kind of relationship, after all, so certainly there must be benefits to-,”
“Would you cut the bullshit?!”
He blinked, surprised, but at the same time not, at Havoc’s interruption. The blond was the wild card in this whole game, after all. Archer blinked at him, mollified when the blond began to squirm a bit, unnerved by his gaze.
“….Very well,” he said softly, staring directly at the blond. “Prove that what you have is worth it. I’m assuming that if you’re risking your careers and possibly your lives for this, you…love,” his lips formed a sneer around the rather distasteful word, “each other. Prove it to me. I want to see it.”
Archer leaned back in his chair slowly, gaze shifting from Havoc to Mustang; back and forth. The blond looked ready to faint and Mustang looked as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do.
Of course, he really didn’t care whether they loved each other or not. This was leverage, pure and simple. How humiliating would it be to perform this act, something that was supposed to be one of the most private things in life, in front of someone you hated? And at that person’s order, no less. The show wouldn’t be half bad either, he was sure; both Mustang and Havoc were very attractive men.
“Prove it how?” Mustang broke the silence after several minutes, eyes narrowed thoughtfully in Archer’s direction.
Reaching into the same drawer as before, Archer pulled out a slim bottle of gun lubricant, and tilted his head calculatedly.
“The door’s locked.”
Havoc made a wheezing sound of disbelief, but Mustang’s reaction was muted, nearly disappointing.
“That’s all?”
“Boss, you can’t really-,” the blond started, but was cut off by Mustang’s lifted hand.
Archer inclined his head slightly. “For now.”
“What do we get out of it?”
Archer smirked freely. “The higher ups won’t be seeing this.” He tapped the envelope and picture carefully.
“You have more.”
“Of course.”
“What’s to keep you from showing those?”
“Nothing.”
The corners of Mustang’s lips tightened, lines creasing his cheeks. “So what do we really get out of it?”
“Time really is a precious commodity, don’t you think, Colonel?”
Mustang fell silent, working the words over in his head. Archer was giving them time; time to get the rest of the pictures away from him, time to figure out how to discredit the photos if necessary, time to run, time for any number of things… He nodded slightly.
“Nothing unreasonable.” Because there was no doubt they’d find themselves in this office again, with the same threat hanging over their heads.
“What’s unreasonable?” Archer asked softly, quirking a brow in question.
“Death.”
He nodded slowly. “Nothing unreasonable. You should find the sofa, suitable to your needs.” Archer gestured towards the couch behind them.
Mustang turned slowly to Havoc, who was flushing and staring at him as if he’d grown three more heads or something equally horrifying.
“S-S-Sir! I don’t-,” he started, only to be cut off by Mustang again.
“Jean,” he said softly. “Trust me.”
Archer shifted in his chair, almost discomfited as the blond nodded, feeling like an intruder in his own office. He’d expected a lot of things as he’d planned this over the week, but watching them make their way to the couch, lubrication clutched in one of Mustang’s hands as they began to undress each other, Archer knew this hadn’t been one of them.
When he’d stumbled across them in the break room nearly a week and a half before, they’d been going at it hot and hard, not even fully undressed and bent over one of the round tables in the room. They’d never noticed Archer in the doorway, there to wash his coffee cup for use the next morning before finally heading home.
Since then, all he’d been thinking about was getting one up on Mustang and maybe relieving a bit of extra tension while he was at it. But this…this was different than what he’d stumbled upon in the break room.
This was soft touches and low moans; Mustang didn’t even have Havoc fully undressed yet and the blond was panting, clutching Mustang’s head, pulling and tugging at his hair as a pink tongue swiped teasingly over his nipple.
“R-Roy…”
The blond’s moan went straight through Archer, a spike of heat aimed directly at his cock. He was riveted, unable to tear his eyes away as Mustang tugged at the nipple with his teeth before pulling away to kiss Havoc deeply, hand sliding from the blond’s waist into the waistband of his pants.
Havoc groaned, hips bucking into Mustang’s touch, moaning softly and allowing himself to be pushed onto the couch as his commanding officer tugged his pants open with one hand. Archer’s hand slid beneath his desk, rubbing firmly up his inside thigh.
He felt like an intruder, but the result of watching the two men before him couldn’t be put off. He was male, after all, it would be next to impossible not to get hard, seeing this. As well as hearing it. They were kissing now, though nothing like the first kiss. These were short, soft gestures, murmurs and moans interspersed between them.
Mustang was stroking Havoc’s cock now, and it was enough to make Archer’s breath catch in his throat, watching. The blond’s hips were jerking erratically into Mustang’s fist, soft noises of pleasure escaping him as the other man’s hand squeezed, pre-cum glistening from the head of his cock.
His hand slid up farther, pressing firmly against his balls and massaging through his pants as Mustang maneuvered Havoc gracefully onto his hands and knees, kissing a trail down his spine as one hand opened the lube Archer had given them. Archer’s finger pressed a poorly mimicked trial up the length of his cock, hissing softly at the uncomfortable sensation of the confining cloth of his pants rubbing against him.
Watching as Mustang slipped a lubed finger into Havoc, Archer carefully tugged his pants open, not wanting to miss a second of the show unfolding before him. The blond hissed, pushing back against the finger despite the discomfort it caused him.
“Slow, Jean,” Mustang murmured, leaning over him to kiss and suck gently at the back of his neck.
Something stabbed through Archer, not the delicious heat from before, but just as sharp, resonating through his chest as he watched the two. Then Mustang was slowly pushing another digit into Havoc and the blond was moaning softly, tilting his head back in pleasure and whatever had ensnared Archer for that single moment was gone.
Havoc rocked carefully back on his commanding officer’s digits, and Archer wondered how tight it felt inside of the blond, slowly wrapping his fingers around his erection and stroking firmly as Mustang lubed his erection. Then the other man was pulling his fingers out of the blond and pressing his cock teasingly against Havoc’s entrance.
“Do you want this?” Mustang murmured, leaning forward against him, shifting his hips, teasingly rubbing his erection against the blond.
“Y-yes,” Havoc half-sobbed, fingers digging into the couch cushions, attempting to push back against the other man, eager, despite how unsure he’d been before.
Archer’s grip tightened around his own cock, hips rising into his touch as Mustang slid into Havoc, a long groan escaping the other Colonel. All three of them were still for a long moment, ragged breaths escaping into the quiet of the office.
Mustang stroked his hands gently down Havoc’s sides, waiting for the blond to give him a signal to go ahead. Archer, playing the part of the intruder still, waited to move with them, subconsciously wanting to be a part of whatever this was, however he could.
The blond pushed back against Mustang with a sigh, after several agonizing moments, and the two on the couch moaned low and rough, as Mustang pulled back, thrusting into Havoc, slowly at first. Archer bit back a soft, strangled noise that might have been a moan if he’d let it escape him.
He matched their thrusts, starting slowly, as they did, then speeding with them as he stroked his cock, short pants falling from his lips. He caressed his balls as Mustang reached around to stroke Havoc, another choked sound falling from his lips as he tried to imagine what they were feeling as they moved together.
His hand tightened around his cock, squeezing teasingly here and there as he stroked, his thumb pressing hard over the head of his erection as Mustang began to slam into Havoc, the blond sobbing in pleasure. Archer’s vision began to fade, pleasure building inside of him.
“R-Roy! Please, I’m g-going to…ngh!”
Archer jerked at Havoc’s words, imagining the other man’s orgasm as he watched Mustang move hard into the blond and bit his lip, the thought dragging him over the edge into blackness, the warm slickness of his release splashing over his hand.
When he opened his eyes again, the couch was empty. Mustang standing by the arm, fully dressed and Havoc was buttoning up his top beside him. Archer had missed it, the part where Mustang was supposed to be vulnerable before him. He cursed himself mentally. He’d missed the entire reason he’d set this up!
They turned to him as Havoc straightened his jacket and Archer shifted in his chair, sitting up properly.
“I’ll keep this to myself, then. For now,” he said coolly, ignoring the gravelly quality to his voice that hadn’t been there earlier. He tilted his head thoughtfully, regarding them silently for a moment. “I’ll need to see you both back here next week, though.” He smirked. “Just to be thorough.”
Havoc looked aghast at the suggestion, but Mustang merely inclined his head before walking towards the door. The blond followed him, glancing over his shoulder at Archer almost as if he were going to be eaten as he pulled the door closed behind him and his commanding officer.
Archer sagged in his chair as the door clicked closed, feeling relieved and an entirely new kind of tense at the same time. He hadn’t gotten what he was after this time, but he would next time or even the time after. Mustang would keep coming back until Archer had no leverage over him. And he had no intentions of losing this leverage.
Tilting his head back, Archer sighed. Some part of him was amazed that this had happened, but he supposed it was one of the advantages of knowing his ‘enemy’. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a tissue to clean himself with, wondering if he could convince them to allow him to join next time. It wasn’t unreasonable, after all.