Back Together Again: Roy/Maes fic, Chapter 11
TITLE: “Back Together Again”
GENRE: Yaoi/Drama
RATING: Overall Hard-R to light NC-17 (or just M, if you prefer) for violence, language, sexuality and adult concepts
WARNINGS: Violence. Grief/PTSD. Sexuality (including some borderline non-con). Angst/Darkfic. Hughesmunculus. And finally: THIS FIC MAY CONTAIN HETEROSEXUAL SEX. <-- consider yourself warned!
PAIRING(S): HUGHES/ROY!!!!! (with a dab of Hughes/Gracia and a pinch of Roy/Gracia - sorta)
SUMMARY: A still-grieving Roy Mustang is visited by a ghost made flesh - a ghost in the form of Maes Hughes! Did Roy actually succeed in bringing back his dead best friend using alchemy … or is he being haunted by a homunculus?
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Ms. Arakawa, I just take them out to play.
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ART by the lovely greenfire_mantl . Her DeviantArt site is: http://solusauroraborealis.deviantart.com/
Chapter Eleven: Empty
You’re delicious, dreaming, slack jawed, green eyed
Rub my nose in icing sugar smooth
As when this cold and deadly blade kisses the fruit
So soft and gently breathing under your skin
Oh I’ll empty you, I’ll empty you
As empty as a boy can be
As empty as a boy can be
- “Icing Sugar”, Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me (the Cure)
The age-old rituals of theatre took hold. The orchestra could be heard tuning; the lights were dimmed. A hush fell over the audience.
There was that familiar moment where the collective population of the opera house seemed to hold its breath. Then the conductor’s baton raised and the overture was struck, and it was begun - the Story, the Song, the Dance, the Play; the magical, fantastic, grandiose conglomeration that was opera. Roy had not failed to note that this was the same opera as the one on that memorable occasion before. The singers and actors had changed, of course. And instead of a young soldier in the highest section of seats with his lover, he was an old, scarred General settled into the comfort of his private box … with his lover. Whom he couldn’t take his eye off of, despite the lure of the bright colors and beautiful sounds from the stage. He studied Maes’ profile in the near dark. The full lips, the strong jaw, the - why, the familiar glasses were gone. Was this Maes’ version of a disguise? It occurred to Roy that Maes had always had a beard, too, albeit a short and neat one. He no longer had one, and it made him look even younger than he … Roy’s mind stuttered. … than he was. Than he had been?...
Was.
Roy made it a few minutes into the first act, and then found he could sit still no longer. What a reverse from the last time, he thought wryly. He removed his white gloves, laying them on the seat in front of him, and traced his warm bare fingers over the back of Maes’ neck. The other man shivered and leaned into his touch.
That was all it took. In seconds, Roy’s hand was wrapped around the side of Maes’ face, pulling the larger man toward him. His tongue delicately traced the outside of Maes’ ear before plunging in recklessly. He felt Maes jerk under his tongue, heard the hissing intake of his breath, and Roy could wait no longer; he was bone-hard and ready, so ready.
He yanked the larger man up by his collar and drove him into the wall, padded by the lush velvet curtains on the far side of the box. They were close to the back corner, hidden by shadow; Roy had retained that much self-control - from certain angles people could see into a private box, and even from far away, they might have opera-glasses… all thought was once more swept from his mind as the larger man, pinned though he was, fisted his hand in Roy’s hair and ground their lips together in a hard, bruising kiss. In contrast with the roughness he displayed with his mouth, Maes gently reached a hand inside Roy’s jacket and fingered his nipples until Roy, choking off a frustrated cry, grabbed both Maes’ wrists and pinned them over his head with one hand. Roy continued to kiss the larger man hungrily, licking and sucking his way down Maes’ neck, unbuttoning his shirt collar with his free hand to give him access to - Maes writhed and twisted under Roy helplessly when his mouth fastened on the sweet spot at the join of Maes’ neck and shoulder. He worked the spot mercilessly, altering his hard sucking with an occasional light bite, grinding his pelvis up against Maes’, hard on hard … Roy was so turned on now, feeling the power of making his friend react that strongly, that he felt a little dizzy, and also felt like he might come at any second. That won’t do, he thought. I have to - to… He abruptly dropped to his knees before Maes, working open his fly with a speed born of desperation and out-of-control lust. He noted enthusiastically that Hughes wasn’t wearing any underwear. As soon as his friend’s erection was free, he hungrily took the whole thing into his mouth, reaching one hand in to massage the warm testes. Maes’ groan was low and deep, more felt than heard, but Roy sensed it, and it drove him wilder than ever. He withdrew his hand, wetted a finger, and then reached far back into Maes’ pants, plunging inside his friend with an abruptness he normally wouldn’t dare. Maes stiffened for an instant, then relaxed into this new assault. Roy continued sucking Maes, harder and faster than he’d done in a long time; his friend’s hips bucked helplessly, falling into his rhythm. He felt Maes tremble and knew he was close.
On the other side of the box, from behind her curtain, Gracia watched every movement, her breathing shallow and fluttering. She felt light-headed, like she’d consumed too much wine. If someone had told her merely a few months ago that she would be watching General Mustang ravish her dead husband in a semi-public place, and liking it, she would have laughed or slapped them, she wasn’t sure which.
When Mustang’s mouth moved down Maes’ neck she got a funny, giddy feeling in her stomach - she knew how Maes liked it there, she’d felt him react before - but seeing Maes’ expression was - oh - and then when the General dropped to his knees and started in on him … how many times had she tasted him, felt him in her mouth … and yet - she had never seen the look on Maes’ face, never seen his jaw go slack, his eyes roll back. Though she’d felt his hips move helplessly, she’d never seen it and - almost without being aware of it, she’d pulled up the heavy skirt of her fancy evening dress with one hand, and slid the other hand into her undergarments. She was slick with desire. She expertly slid one finger inside herself, then two, using her thumb to massage her clit in slow circles.
With a final long, hard lick, Roy withdrew both his mouth and his hand from Maes; he shakily got to his feet. He reached into his jacket pocket for a handkerchief and wiped his hands, trying to steady himself.
Maes was having none of that, however. He grabbed Roy by the shoulders, and Roy had no more than two seconds to re-stash the handkerchief before Maes slammed him into the wall, reversing their positions. He all but tore open the collar of Roy’s shirt and bit him at the base of his neck, using his own wrist to gag Roy’s guttural cry - not that it would have been heard over the swelling music. Roy’s body twisted underneath him, his clothed pelvis grinding into Maes’ still-exposed flesh.
Roy’s hands were still free, though, and he explored the warmth of Maes’ body inside his jacket - the angle wasn’t right for him to get any farther inside his best friend’s shirt. His hands roamed over a strange bulge in one of the jacket’s inner pockets, and he plundered it without thinking. With what Maes was still doing with his mouth, it took several seconds for it to register with Roy that he was holding a pair of ladies’ evening gloves in his hand … gloves that Maes had had in his jacket pocket …
Maes felt him stiffen in shock. He drew back from Roy, looking at him expectantly, eyes glittering in the darkness. Roy held the gloves out to him like an accusation. With an effort of will he unlocked his gaze from Maes’ and started to scan the box for signs of another person.
Maes grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing him to drop the gloves. He then grabbed Roy’s other wrist in his other hand and pinned both against the wall above Roy’s head, trapping him similar to the way Roy had trapped him before. “Yes,” he breathed in Roy’s ear. “You’re right. She’s here. We are being watched.” In spite of everything, Roy moaned, feeling Maes’ deep voice resonate in the base of his spine. “Are you going to let that stop you now?”
He should feel betrayed, Roy thought dizzily. He should feel … something other than … this. He felt like he was on fire, and the knowledge that Gracia was watching them only fanned the flames hotter. He felt - no, he knew - that if he didn’t have Maes this instant, he would literally die. He shoved Maes away from him and held him at arm’s length for an instant before throwing him at the wall. “Turn around, soldier,” he responded in a growl. “That’s an order.”
Maes obeyed, slowly, placing both hands on the curtained wall, even bending his knees slightly and shoving his ass outward to give Roy better access.
Roy did not hesitate. With trembling hands he loosened Maes’ pants further, yanking them down below his buttocks. He opened his own fly, wrestled with his underwear, and lubed himself as best he could with saliva.
He guided himself inside, not wanting to hurt Maes but almost too far gone to care. I have you now, he thought, somewhat incoherently. He snarled triumphantly and gave Maes a single hard thrust, digging his fingers into the other man’s hips, as if to proclaim to himself, to Maes, and to the concealed watcher: Mine … You belong to me.
Maes grunted and instinctively tightened up, then relaxed into Roy. He turned his head, looking at Roy over his shoulder, and hissed through clenched teeth: “Is that all you’ve got, General?”
At that, Roy lost all control. He drew back as far as he dared and slammed in, again and again, reveling in the sensation of being sheathed in his friend’s tight warmth. His pace increased, becoming more and more frenetic, and he took a savage joy in the fact that Maes was backing into each thrust, head down, hands clenched in the curtain, arms trembling with effort, loving every second of it. And why shouldn’t they put on a good show? Roy thought. He felt his testes contracting, his climax building, and unconsciously he rose on his toes as the moment approached.
Gracia had given up on all modesty; her latent fear of discovery was long forgotten. She had already come twice using just her right hand while Roy was on his knees. At the sight of the two of them fighting for dominance, of the General taking her all-too-willing husband so intimately, practically right in front of her, the rest of her tattered self-control deserted her. She half-crouched, legs spread wide to keep her skirts above her waist and out of the way, and continued fingering herself with her right hand while using the first two fingers of the left hand on her clit. When Roy came - head thrown back, mouth open, body raised up and arched almost backward, buried as deep as possible inside his lover - so did Gracia, again, stronger than ever this time. She’d been biting her lips to keep from making any sounds, but a strangled groan escaped her nonetheless. She hoped it would go unnoticed, but she was so far gone she almost didn’t care either way.
Roy stayed as he was for a few seconds, bent over Maes, legs weak and exhausted; then he backed out slowly and fumbled for his handkerchief again. Giving himself a cursory cleaning, he placed the handkerchief in Maes’ hand and helped him stand upright. “Here,” he said gently. “Wouldn’t want your suit to get all -”
A low chuckle came from Maes’ throat. He turned around, presenting Roy with his still-throbbing erection. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said as he took the proffered piece of cloth and placed it strategically to help absorb the inevitable mess, “but I’m not done yet.” He smiled and patted Roy on the head. “You look tired,” he said. “Maybe you should sit down.” Placing both hands on Roy’s shoulders, he applied pressure, attempting to force the smaller man to his knees.
Roy tried to struggle, to play the game, but he was still drained from his recent climax; he collapsed like a rag doll at Maes’ feet. After a couple seconds, he looked up at Maes, who was grinning down at him. Maes winked, as if to say, It’s all for show, Roy, come on … be a good sport … He reached down and gently stroked Roy’s hair. Roy nuzzled at his hand like a cat. He let himself be guided back to Maes’ rigid warmth. Although he was feigning reluctance, the truth was just the opposite: his groin was throbbing painfully back to life. It was too soon; how the hell was this possible? … He opened his mouth and throat and expertly took in Maes’ erection a second time, and when he felt his best friend shudder and heard that deep, barely-suppressed moan, he abruptly forgot his own discomfort.
He couldn’t resist teasing Maes a little. He drew back and licked the underside, again and again, long, slow, teasing licks, and with each stroke Maes writhed deliciously, struggling to keep still. He abruptly removed his hands from Roy’s hair and clasped them over his head, and when Roy saw that, he knew he had won - Maes only ever removed his hands so quickly when he was feeling the urge to forcefully grab his partner’s head … when he was too turned-on to control himself anymore.
Roy was definitely hard again by this point, and suffering because of it, but the intoxicating thrill of causing Maes to lose it like that made it more than worth the price. He grabbed his best friend’s buttocks and rammed his head down on Maes’ length, as far as he could, and began sucking him hard and fast, like he had a short while before. As he’d expected, his friend did not last long against this assault. A choked-off cry and the clenching of Maes’ muscles were Roy’s only warning, and then Maes was there, spilling himself into Roy’s eager throat, body convulsing in passion.
Gracia had never seen Maes like this, never seen how he trembled, how he clenched his own hands to keep his control, never seen his head thrash back and forth from the force of his climax … she knew he reacted differently to this act than to intercourse, but naturally, when she was engaged in it, she wasn’t in a good position to watch him. But oh, she’d never dreamed something could be this beautiful. She had come yet again while Mustang was teasing Hughes, but when Maes reached his moment of passion, only moments later, it triggered something wild in her, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her muscles were still clenched from the force of her last climax, and yet she felt herself peak again.
Roy rode out his friend’s climax and gave him one last suck for good measure before he disengaged. Trying to ignore his own erection, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around Maes’ lower back, hugging him briefly, and got to his feet. He helped Maes reassemble his clothing without a word. Maes said nothing, either, but continued to grin at him like they were in on the world’s best joke. And they were, really, weren’t they? Roy thought.
Onward to Chapter Twelve
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