Roy Mustang leaned back in the chair, his heavy military boots propped on the table. He grasped his coffee mug firmly in one hand and balanced a stack of reports precariously on his opposite knee. He was ignoring them to stare at the door to the other room. He could hear a faint creaking, and maybe a fainter whisper. Curious. Maybe he should check on the boy.
"Fullmetal. You're awake."
The creaking stopped immediately, and the Fullmetal Alchemist's flushed and slightly sweaty face froze in an expression of comical, horrified surprise.
"Colonel..." he choked out.
"Yes, I am." Roy regarded him quizzically from the doorway. "Thought I heard a noise?"
"I... I didn't hear anything."
"Sure you weren't talking to someone?" Roy glanced around the room. Still empty.
Ed's body was stiff as a board. His mangled metal arm hung limply off the side of the bed, and his left arm was strapped to his side by bandages, but Mustang could see the exposed fist clenched tight. Ed would not look at him.
"You shouldn't be trying to move. What were you doing? Shall I get... you..." Concern was replaced by sudden comprehension, and the colonel's expression was instantly both sympathetic and amused.
"Ah. I'll, uh, leave you alone, then." Roy turned to go, but was arrested by a stifled gurgle from the bed. He looked back at Edward, and had to suppress a smile. "You can't reach."
"Go. Away. Colonel." The boy was tomato-red.
Roy was unable to keep himself from smirking openly now. "Are you sure? I could... help you out."
"Go AWAY!" Ed strained to lift his useless arms, obviously attempting to form a circle before giving up with an exasperated sigh.
Roy hesitated in the doorway. "You know, I've been... incapacitated before, too. Sometimes..."
Ed gave him a long, slow look.
"Well, Maes and I-"
"What?"
"Uh... "
"...Major Hughes? HUGHES? He's married! He's, he's..."
Roy examined his shoes studiously. "He wasn't always. And even after he met Gracia, we were far from home most of the time. And in the trenches, your comrades are... everything."
"Hughes." Flat voice, flat expression. At least he wasn't yelling.
The colonel's head dipped a barely perceptible fraction of an inch.
"...And you."
Roy's eyes flicked around the room, to the floor, the walls, the small window, the doorframe, and finally landed squarely on Ed's face. "Yeah."
Edward closed his eyes and breathed in deep. "Comrades, huh?" He breathed out, and in again, and held it for a moment before exhaling. "All right," he said.
Roy disappeared into the other room briefly, and reappeared with the chair. Ed was peeking at him out of one eye, but he closed it again quickly, a little too tight. Mustang raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He set the chair next to the narrow bed, and pulled off his gloves as he sat down.
"So. Who were you thinking about?" he asked conversationally, as he pulled the sheet down to reveal Ed's belly, bare and pale. Roy reached for the now conspicuously tented trousers, ignoring Ed's sharp gasp as he methodically unfastened them. He slid his hand under the small of the boy's back and lifted gently so he could tug the clothing away. "That mechanic of yours? What's her name, Winry, isn't it? She's cute..."
Ed glared at him.
"We-ell. Maybe not her, then. Think about whatever you like. Don't mind me." Roy ran a hand lightly down Ed's tummy, taut with tension, then took hold of him, massaging professionally.
Ed twitched, and glared again. "That's really... clinical," he said. "Kind of the opposite of, um, a turn on... and looking at you doesn't make it any better." He looked away from the colonel, pointedly.
Roy chuckled and leaned in close. "Close your eyes," he ordered, and breathed on the boy's cheek before nuzzling his neck. "I'm Winnnn-reeee..."
"Shut up!" Ed hissed at him. "Shut up!"
"Sorry." Roy leaned back in the chair and folded his hands primly in his lap.
Ed's voice was petulant. "I said shut up, I didn't say stop."
A soft laugh in reply: "I'll try to keep it quiet, then." Mustang leaned back in and kissed Ed's cheek, one hand wandering back down the boy's torso and between his legs, the other weaving through blond hair, alternately caressing and grasping.
His movements were light, but swift and confident. His hands kept time with Ed's breathing as it quickened, and he kissed Ed's face, his ear, his throat, dragged his tongue along Ed's jaw, then took advantage of his open mouth when the boy moaned.
Ed stretched up to meet him, flattening his feet on the bed and pushing, pushing while Roy fought to balance over him, until he jerked and quivered, gasping, "Al, Al!" before slumping back onto the mattress.
Roy sat back in the chair again. "...Al?"
"I told you to shut your mouth, Mustang." Ed was still breathing hard, his lips bruised red. He wouldn't open his eyes.
Roy got up and fetched a clean bandage from the basket on the floor, then wiped the boy's stomach. He bent in once more and brushed his lips against the sweaty forehead. He rearranged the Ed's trousers and the sheet, and stood and gripped the back of the chair. "Would you like to be alone now?"
"Please," Ed whispered.
"Good, because now," the colonel hefted the chair, "I have something to take care of."
Ed's eyes widened as he looked at Roy, then back away, but he called out as the man retreated to the door, dragging his chair. "Colonel?"
"Yeah?"
"...Thanks."
Roy snorted. "Any time, Fullmetal. Any time."