WHOLE LIVES CHAPTER 38: CONCLUSION PT 2:"HEY, HUGHES…"

By The Binary Alchemist, 2012

After all those months of separation, Ed's groin throbbed nearly as much as Roy's head. Dr. Knox had checked him out and Alphonse had used alkahestry to knit up two badly bruised ribs and several sprains but Roy was still going to be hurting like hell for quite awhile.

But there was an eager press outside clamoring for Edward, as well family and well-wishers celebrating out on the green. As much as Ed ached for some private moments of affection—and a quick blowjob—there were other responsibilities looming over them, the first of which required a little feminine intervention…

When Ed ducked out of the office to meet the press, Gracia Hughes was discreetly ushered in. Her mouth dropped into a perfect 'o' of astonishment at the splintered furniture, broken glass and the battered face of the man behind the imposing presidential desk. The 'o' became wider when he sheepishly held up a small compact of pressed powder and a tiny plastic pot of under eye concealer. "Gracia," he asked earnestly, "I don't know a damn thing about make up…" Then the corner of his firm mouth lifted into a hint of an ironic smile. "That's a good thing, I'm guessing….?"

Half an hour later, after some private inquiries around the ladies on the staff to acquire additional cosmetic supplies, Roy could go out in public, even if he was wearing more foundation than Mr. Garfiel at a Rush Valley social soiree. "Tell them…mmmm, let's see…oh, I've got it!" Gracia beamed. "Maes left one of his toys in your office and you tripped over it and landed face down on the coffee table."

Roy grimaced a bit as he blinked at his still-puffy reflection. It was plausible and would put a family-friendly spin on what might have led to nasty speculation of a lover's spat with Edward. "I believe my best friend married a genius. I ought to hire you as my publicist."

Gracia laughed and waved off the jest. "I appreciate the thought."

Roy turned around and she immediately quit laughing when she saw his expression. "You're experienced with the media. You have a knack for talking to nearly anyone and making them welcome…."

She touched his arm and gently shook her head. "I deeply appreciate it, Roy—but I know what I'm best at. Navigating the political rapids isn't where I want to be…but if you ever need my help-or a good home cooked dinner—or a friend to talk to, or a little girl to hug….we're just five blocks away."

###

The high point of the evening, at least as far as the crowd was concerned, was the showing of the newsreel footage that had been brought from Drachma for release in Amestris. It wasn't the first time Ed had cringed at the herky-jerky black and white image of himself larger than life projected onto a screen or even a white sheet hastily hung up in the trees or across the side of a building. The hand cranked movie cameras showed him at slightly exaggerated speed, waving to the crowd, shaking hands with the Tsar and Tsarina and Lobachevsky, Maxim and Alexi clowning for the camera, Pyotir looking far too serious and Dr. Chen and Alphonse waving from their motorbike as they chased behind the Amestris from the ground.

Ed stared at himself critically. The man up on the screen was…well, damn it, he was rather good looking in his leather flight helmet, goggles and silk scarf. The cinematographer had mercifully cut the scene before he heard the broadcast about the hostage situation back home. They showed him pumping his fists in triumph and then cut to a very proud looking Roy saluting in front of crossed Amestrian and Drachman flags. The footage was silent, but the military band accompanied with all appropriate ruffles and flourishes of brass and drums.

It might have gone to his head, however momentarily, if his best friend from school hadn't elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Just remember, hotshot," Dr. Pitt Renback grinned, "I can still out run you, out jump you, throw a spit wad further, eat more jelly beans, catch more fish—and I'm still taller than you!"

But there was an even bigger coup that was delivered by a smirking Fuhrer Mustang to his lover. "You might want to read this. It's from Prince Claudio."

The whoop of triumph that accompanied Ed's pounding on the table with excitement grabbed everyone's attention. According to the missive, the nation of Aerugo would be announcing at New Year's the establishment of Villa Rinacimento, a Collegium whose primary emphasis would be on the fine arts but would include a secondary focus on the study of electronics. The field was still very much in its infancy, but it had been the Aerugoans, well before anyone else, who invented the telegraph, the vacuum tube, wireless signal transmission and the radios which had now become such an essential part of military and civilian life.

It had been an embarrassing international scandal that Bradley's agents had not only stolen teleography and radiography from the Aerugoans but produced an army signal corps operator named DeForrest who loudly and publicly claimed credit for these inventions. Worse still, when questioned by the Central Times about his patented Audion tube that made radio possible, the abashed officer was not even able to coherently explain how the damned thing worked. Needless to say, that theft had been held over Roy's head as one of the significant reasons why the Aerugoans were reluctant to have anything to do with Roy's envisioned world wide renaissance of science and alchemy.

And now—in no small way thanks to the solving of the Prince of the Dawn's plumbing problems and the efforts of Alex Armstrong and Dr. Knox over the summer-Aerugo was joining the Collegium of Alexandra as a full international partner in the new year. Even more exciting news, they were sending no less than Signor Marconi himself—the true father of wireless and radio and one of the most brilliant inventors in the known world—to teach at the Hohenheim Institute this spring. In addition, one of their top physicists would journey to Stoltovgrad to take Bacalla's place. Two eminent surgeons would intern and teach at the Chrysanthemum Palace in Xing and a team of agriculturists would be welcomed in Ishbal. It was even better than they had hoped.

Alexi leaned over Ed's shoulder to read and then turned anxiously to Maxim.

"Ну теперь мы находимся в него. Если Aerugoans отправить Маркони, мы должны принести доктор Тесла из изгнания и доказать что беспроводной драхма изобрел первый!" ("Well, now we are in for it. If the Aerugoans send Marconi, we will have to bring Doctor Tesla out of exile and prove that Drachma invented wireless first!")

"Da! Interesting times, it will be!" Maxim winked. "Perhaps we take this Marconi out to hunt Devotchkas with Alphonse?"

Alphonse overheard and socked his friend gently on the arm. "Start another war between Aerugo and Amestris with your damned devotchka hunt, Tovarich, and I'll make sure Lobachevsky has you mucking out pigsties for the rest of your days!"

"You did it!" Ed crowed to his lover. "I don't know how the hell you pulled it off, but you did it!" He pounded Roy on the back, realizing one instant too late that in view of Roy's recent bruising that this was probably the wrong thing to do. "Uh…sorry," he mumbled contritely. "Ah…I…guess that means…you get to top tonight….?"

The loss of alchemic skill had only sharpened Ed's appetite to explore the sciences he had scoffed at when he was younger. It had been sweat and science and cooperation that had taken Edward Elric aloft, not transmutation circles. Now more than ever he appreciated that there must be room for the scientist, the alchemist and the craftsman to learn to work together and not against each other as in Amestris' past.

Izumi was right: alchemy was not a cure all, and he would never underestimate the value of hard work again.

He glanced at Roy, now talking softly to Elycia while Maes and Nina perched on his lap, completely unselfconscious of his power as both an alchemist and as a world leader. He was just a guy, really. Just a man in his mid-thirties who had a crazy dream that the world could somehow be better than it was, and that it might be to everybody's benefit to spend less on tanks and bombs and more on investing in the future of Amestris and her people and building bridges, not blowing them up as Bradley had done long ago.

"Ours is a history written in blood," Roy had told the nation. "We have annexed and conquered. We have taken much and given little, with perpetual war the inheritance we have left to our children. And in all of our wars, each bullet claimed not just a human life but potential. What great minds have been lost? What wonders will never be invented—what art will never be created? Each time we take a life in a conflict that might have been avoided, we rob the future just as surely as we rob families on both sides of their loved ones."

Yeah, Edward decided. I can spend the rest of my life and raise a family with a guy who thinks like that. In full view of everyone, not giving a good goddamn who was watching, he moved in close, slid his arm around Roy's shoulder, and without hesitation leaned in and kissed the President of Amestris full on the mouth. Then he whispered under his breath, "the makeup isn't too bad—but that rouge is definitely not your color, jackass…"

###

Throughout this very long and exhausting day in the public eye Edward had been forced to keep his urge to jump on Mustang and hump his parts raw simmering on the back burner until they could get alone behind locked doors, preferably somewhere where the sound of curses, slurping, moans and the sound of bed slats breaking wouldn't frighten the children. All day long he kept excusing himself to the men's room to deal with a persistent erection that threatened to burst right through his zipper. Don't wanna poke someone's eye out with this thing he told himself after the third time when a hot, stealthy glance from across the room had lit up his limbic system like the Central skyline after dark.

Once the kids had been tucked in with Winry and Izumi and the rest of the family in the guest wing, Ed guided his weary lover upstairs for a long hot shower. "I guess we better be careful not to make your sprains any worse," he ventured carefully as he unbuttoned, unzipped and carefully peeled the perfectly tailored uniform off his battered mate. "I'm glad didn't see any kicks aimed towards your balls."

Roy smirked at him. "Doesn't mean you can't kiss them all better though, does it?"

When they entered the bathroom they were surprised by an elegant silver tray on the marble counter. It held an iced bottle of champagne, two glasses, some massage oil…and a bottle of aspirin. Roy popped two tablets in his mouth and washed them down with a swallow of cold bubbly. "Remind me to give Sebastian a raise."

"Why not?" Ed rubbed himself against his lover's hip. "You've sure as hell given me one. Let's get wet."

When they embraced under the spray the raw physicality of the moment threatened to buckle Ed's knees, both flesh and metal. From the acceleration of the pulse he could feel against his chest, it was clear Roy's need matched his own. It was like a shock to the system, this skin-to-skin intimacy after such a long separation, and it was all he could do to resist rubbing himself to bliss, cock to cock, as he locked himself tightly around that slick, beautiful body. All the clever toys of Dr. Chen and Mr. Spenser had filled him and taken the edge off his hunger but plunging into a Gate of Paradise or straddling a rubber phallus couldn't compare with the heat and smell and strength and—"ohhh god!"—the sweet, greedy intrusion of a tongue gliding into his mouth while possessive hands gripped his bottom, clenching and caressing.

It was in his mouth before his hands could capture it. His knees simple wouldn't hold him up any longer. Iron hard, darkly flushed and as his tongue touched the crown he was rewarded with a small spurt of pearly moisture and a low, animal cry. "Careful, now," Ed warned, wagging a finger in warning before slipping it into the hot crevice between the cheeks his lover spread wide for him. "Old guys like you, not sure how many shots you got in you after a long day."

"I'll be more than happy to demonstrate. Unlike you, I have been in complete control all day—"

"—you have also been eating analgesics because you had the snot kicked out of you."

Roy offered him an elegant sneer. '-which in no way has dampened my ardor. I have endured a most uncomfortable erection all day and I intend to tie your ankles to the bed post, cover you in oil from head to toe and invade every available orifice until Sebastian brings in my breakfast tray-uhhhggghhh! Shit!-and…."

The finger crooked inside him. "And?"

"—k-keeppp y-you tied…tied..YESSS!…until…"

"…until I get my ass loose…and bend you over…like…THIS…"

"…!…"

"-and pay you back, Mustang!" A tongue slithered exactly where Roy wanted it to go, followed by another finger…then another….then Ed sat back on his heels and grinned up at his mate with feigned concern. "Oh…but we mustn't hurt that sore back of yours…all that—"the fingers curled and scissored and another spurt of moisture dripped down to be caught on the back of Ed's hand and quickly lapped up before it could be washed away, "….pounding…oh, and there's a nasty bruise where she kicked you in the ass…" Shoving Roy's legs further aside his head ducked between trembling thighs and he sucked lightly on that cusp of taut muscle behind his lover's balls. He lifted Roy's knee and positioned his foot firmly on the edge of the tub. "One of these nights," Ed commented, his words coming out in urgent puffs of breath, "you're going to show me exactly how you used to sliiiiiide that hard rubber cock inside. I'm gonna take the tip of it and slowwwwly rub it…right…here…and watch you open up for it. I'll slick it up with my own come and I'm gonna screw it….reallllll slow….right here…..and you're gonna tell me how my cock feels so much bigger….and hotter…mmmmmff!" He ducked his head around for another sucking kiss and then struggled to his feet. "And I'm gonna tell you how nothing is ever gonna feel this goddamn good as THIS-" he yanked his fingers out and slid in to the root, roughly yanking his lover's hips against his groin.

Roy hissed and flung back his head, eyes tight as the spray beat down on his upturned face. There was a hot mouth at his ear, growling obscenities as Edward plunged and rooted mindlessly inside him, one hand squeezing and frantically yanking at Roy's cock. "Better be enough, old man-better be enough inside your balls to last me all night-because as soon as you can walk you better turn me loose on the sheets and make good on your promise….because lemme tell you, getting pounded…by….my….goddamned…HUSBAND…beats an assfull of..AHHHEEEEEEE! Ohh…ohh….h-hhhnnnnn! Tight-tightyeahohhhfuckkkksqueezeit-squeezeithard…yeahRoy…FUUUUCKKK!""

The bruises that dappled Ed's inner thigh were from hard, sucking kisses, not fists. His calf rested on a sweat-slicked shoulder as Roy straddled his other thigh, cock hard and high again, slowly drawing out the toy he had been churning inside his lover's body "for comparison's sake". He slowly fisted his own hardness so Edward could watch, capturing the drops of bitter-sweetness he milked from his cock and offering his wet fingers for Ed to suck on.

"You're still wearing my ring."

"You ain't getting' it back."

"Did I ask for it?"

"You're not that stupid." Ed lifted his hand and displayed the gleaming band of gold that bore Roy's first crude attempt to create an array device when he was still in his teens. "You gave me this…." The hand gently stroked a pale chest, directly over Roy's heart. "—and this…." The fingers caressed and explored down the scarred, muscled torso, coming to rest at the base of his shaft. "-and this. No givebacks. You're stuck with me, you son of a bitch, vows or no vows, and if that makes you my husband like Teacher says, well…fuck it."

Roy pressed a fond kiss on Edward's knee and smiled down at him. 'Does that make you my wife?"

Ed leaned up on his elbows, scowling pointing angrily at his crotch. "Does this look like a fuckin' pussy to you? No? All right, jerk. If I can ram your hole and make you scream like I did in the shower, I can call myself any goddamn thing I want to-and wife sure as hell ain't one of 'em!"

"Oh?" Removing the leg from his shoulder, Roy slid down until they were chest to chest, hip to hip and mouth to mouth. They clung together like that for a very, very long time. "So," he eventually whispered in his lover's ear. 'What do you want to call yourself?"

"Yours, you bastard. And don't you forget it!"

###

"Better be some motherfuckin' coffee out here or I'm gonna drag you outta that tent by your balls."

Ed had wriggled out of a shared sleeping bag a few minutes ago to pee and the dawn was so crisp and wild-smelling and so goddamned wonderful he decided to enjoy the stillness and watch the sun come up.

He reached for a towel off the back of his camp chair but it was wet from the thunderstorm he only barely remembered, having been rowdily fucked through most of it before coming out to rebuild the fire, eat a quick meal and diving back inside for a rematch inside the sleeping bag. He wasn't especially cold, and far as he knew nobody else was watching. Hawkeye and Havoc were probably banging each other's brains out on some sunny, secluded balcony in Aerugo, Al was in Creta, doing things with Julia Creighton that would make the Bakery Girls jealous, making Ruby mad and making poor, obsessed May Chang sob on Dr. Chen's shoulders. No, the only person that might be handing around as sentry was Ruby—and after Drachma there probably wasn't much she hadn't seen of Ed, buzzing around like a blowfly on a roadkill while he was wanking off under the trees and missing the hell out of the man who was still snoring in the tent inside a sleeping back that would have to be decontaminated when they got back, soaked through as it was in assorted body fluids, sweat and melted butter. "We could wash it in the creek but then we'd knock up half the fish in the river downstream," Ed chuckled aloud. "Now where the-oh, there it is! Hope the damn thing is as easy to work as Peehole said."

Roy had loaded the Aerugoan coffee press—a gift from Prince Claudio that Armstrong brought back for Ed—with the proper amount and grind of some hellishly expensive brew Bacalla had shipped to them in hopes of obtaining a presidential patent so he could print "Presidential Reserve" on every tin sold and charge three times what it was worth. An old battered tin army coffee pot full of water was over the remains of their campfire, steam rising from the dented spout.

Ed poured the scalding water to the fill line, stirred the resultant fragrant mess, guesstimated about three minutes then slowly pushed down the plunger. The resultant brew met with his approval. Peehole would get that patent after all.

He hiked naked down to the stream, coffee pot in hand, to rinse off and refill so Roy could make him another pot when he woke up. Dipping the much-abused pot into the chilly water he noticed something painted on the side:

HUGHES/M #867-5309-911

Ed sank down on a dew-covered rock and studied the coffee pot, dented and scratched and looking for all the world as if it had been dragged through a war over twenty years ago.

He smiled. "Hey, Hughes…? It's me, Y'know…Ed?" He glanced up towards the trees. The branches were moving in a light breeze and already the rising sun was beginning to dapple through and warm his face. It was going to be a fine day, no clouds, little chance of rain.

"Look…sorry about the digging around the graveyard shit—and the stuff with the flowers. Looks like Gracia and Roy got their shit straightened out. Elycia's happy. Life's pretty damned good-but then you know that already, right?" He ran his finger over the name and registration number and he nodded. "He's gonna be okay. I'll make sure of it. Don't sweat, all right? See you when we see you. Over and out."

Roy had crawled outside when Ed got back to their campsite. When he saw what Ed hand in his hand he tensed visibly.

"Found this on the fire. You must've have been dragging it around in your pack since the academy days." He leaned forward and kissed Roy. "Still pretty damned useful after all these years. I think we'll keep it around."

…NOT THE END…..

Author's Note: The Further Adventures of Edward, Roy, the Elric Kids, Alphonse and friends will

Continue in "OUR LIVES", which will take us fifteen years into Amestris' future as Roy prepares to make good on his '520 Cenz Promise' to Edward—but as Amestris makes the move from military state to full democratic republic, Roy finds his life being rewritten by an unscrupulous biographer during his last months in office as Fuhrer, Riza is unprepared for life away from Roy's side, young Maes and Nina are setting Hohenheim Institute on its collective ear-and Ed and Roy plan for the Presidential Wedding of the century….Thanks for Reading!

Much Love and Gratitude to all of you wonderful, wonderful readers—YOU are my inspiration!

The Binary Alchemist, June 24, 2012 1:40pm EST