Author's notes: Yes, here they are again. Winry/Ed isn't one of my main loves, but there will be cute scenes throughout the story. Though, there is a bit of one of my main loves (Roy/Ed, the other not appearing because Winry/Al only happens if Al is part of the story), including Ed masturbating to the thought of Roy. That will be cut for the edit. Also cut for the edit will be rough M/M sex.
I've given up trying to put the links to my GJ in the fanfiction.net edit. It's just not working. The GJ Memories are set up and linked in my profile. You can find the corresponding chapter that way.
Chapter 7
Just what was he supposed to write to Winry? Edward put down the pen, staring down at the blank page. Sure... Dear Winry, how are you? How's the automail business? By the way, I'm whoring myself out to find clues on the Philosopher's Stone.
Yeah right.
He sighed, picking up the pen again. Maybe he could just run on about some of the mechanical wonders here and Winry would be so caught up in it she wouldn't realize he wasn't saying anything about his life. Edward wrote a few meaningless phrases, resting his head on his left hand. A gift would probably distract her more. And he had that money that Miss West had given him...
Edward smiled, putting the pen away. Mustang was at the office, so he could get out with little problem. Hopefully there was enough money there that he could buy a decent gift.
The air outside was briskly cold, causing Edward to grin. The smell of upcoming snow was always welcome. He shoved his hands into his pockets, nearly skipping down to the shopping district.
"Hi!" Edward lifted a hand to the shopkeeper as he entered the hardware shop, a wide smile on his face. "Hey, I have a question. What's a decent piece of hardware I can buy for very little for a friend?"
The shopkeeper frowned in thought, then pointed to the wrenches. "A guy can never have too many wrenches. And they aren't that expensive."
He smiled, looking over the wrenches. "I'm not sure what sizes she has, though. I want to get her something she doesn't have."
Edward froze a bit at the smile on the shopkeeper's face. "Her, huh? Your girlfriend?"
"No, no!" The boy laughed nervously at the thought of sisterly Winry being a girlfriend. It was a bit of a scary thought. "I've known her since Al and I were little. She's a sister. Besides, I had an accident and my leg's automail. She'd be more interested in the leg than a date. But she's not a girlfriend!"
The smile only deepened. "Mm. Well, this is a new model. She would probably like this one."
Edward rolled his eyes, but reached out to pick up the wrench. Mistake. Pain exploded from his shoulder and rolled down his arm. His left hand went to clutch at his shoulder, a choked gasp escaping from his throat. The pain bit deeper, causing Edward to tip to the side a bit. It felt almost like when the automail leg had been attached, only stronger.
"Hey, kid. Hey... it's okay. It's okay."
The shopkeeper's hand on his back was a welcome sensation of pressure, forcing the pain back to the point Edward could look up at the man. He had fallen to his knees sometime during the sudden onslaught of pain. There was only one word that came to mind. "Ow."
He laughed a bit, the sound a little hysterical. "Kid, that looked to be a bit nastier than 'ow.' You should have that looked at."
Edward shook his head. "Then I wouldn't have money for this. Making sure Winry isn't worried is more important than my damn arm." He looked up at the shopkeeper, face intense past the pain.
The man reared back a bit, startled at the look in his eyes. "You're older than you look, huh? Well, far be it for me to tell you what to do with your money." He stood, a slight smile on his face. "You must love her a lot."
"She's NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!" Edward glared at him.
"Even so, kid, the signs are easy even for an old man like me to see. She means a lot to you, and even as a sister, you love her."
Edward growled, standing. His shoulder still throbbed, but it was easily ignored now. "Just sell me the wrench."
The wrench took most of the money that woman had given him. But it would keep Winry not thinking about the lack of personal details in the letters, and that would keep Edward from explaining to her about what "military spy" also included.
On the way back to Mustang's, he rubbed his shoulder, frowning. The pain had never been that intense before. He didn't want to think what that meant for the joint. Edward looked down at his very human right hand, feeling the muscles move in his shoulder as he flexed and extended his forearm. That night... if Mustang hadn't appeared, what would he have done? Would Al have been walking beside him now? Or would he have lost his body to join his brother?
What would have been the price to bring Al back that night?
Edward shook his head, trying to ignore the thoughts. That was in the past, and he didn't have time to think about would have happened. He lowered his arm, thankful the ache was dulled to the now normal discomfort.
"... cannot find the training he needs by himself. Edward is not a conventional alchemist, nor a conventional spy."
"Is there such a thing as a conventional spy?" The boy smirked, recognizing the second voice as Major Hughes's. So the Major was over at Mustang's place, huh? Edward eased the door open slowly, not sure if Mustang had his gloves on or not.
"Edward." The Lt. Colonel stood, as if surprised. "I was not aware you had gone out for the day." He studied the bag in the boy's hand, as well as Edward's face. Edward shifted, uncomfortable, and turned his attention to the man beside Mustang.
The smirk came back as he noticed Mustang was shorter than Hughes. Try short jokes now, Lt. Colonel, Edward thought with glee. Hughes had hair as black as Mustang's, but his eyes were a pale green-gold color. With the glasses and the beard almost neatly gracing his chin, the Major looked either incredibly respectable or incredibly goofy. With a serious gaze taking in the final remnants of a pained look, Major Hughes was every inch respectable.
Then the look faded, and a wide grin covered Hughes's face. "So, you're Edward Elric! Lt. Colonel has been saying some good things about you. Hey, want to see something good?"
Edward blinked, wanting to echo Mustang's sigh instead of feeling amusement at the irritated sound. "Uh..."
"Look!" With that, Hughes thrust a photograph under Edward's nose. He took a step back so his eyes would focus on the very happy, very pregnant lady in the picture. "That's my wife, Gracia. Doesn't she just glow?"
"Uh..."
"Hughes." That tone of voice made Edward gulp. It was a tone one would use right before really hurting someone. And being that Mustang controlled fire... Edward closed his eyes, trying to fight back the memory of his mother... no, that wasn't his mother. It was a monster Mustang had burned, no matter how kind the eyes were. He cracked open his eyes again, not looking up at the men.
The photograph retreated, and Edward assumed it was going back to where Hughes had pulled it out of to begin with. He lifted his head, certain his face didn't show what he had just thought. "You'll want Tucker, Mustang. Second Lieutenant Hawkeye should have information on how to set it up. She has many talents, that woman does."
"If you're hinting I should take better care of her, I take care of my staff."
"No." The goofy grin was back. "You should try a real relationship sometime, Roy. I would think that would have you happy to help your staff with the paperwork for once."
"Get out." Mustang's eyebrow twitched.
Edward watched Hughes walk by, and he jumped slightly as he felt a warm hand clasp his right shoulder. "Roy wouldn't carelessly snap his fingers and hurt you, Edward. He wouldn't harm an innocent like that." The words hung in the air, unfinished, as Hughes withdrew his hand and walked out.
The boy looked over at Mustang, expecting some sort of bland remark about his sudden fear. Instead, the Lt. Colonel stood there, a slightly haunted look on his face. Edward didn't want to admit it, but that look bothered him more than the teasing would have. The look smoothed away, as if he had worked through his own bad memories, leaving Lt. Colonel Mustang's face as bland as ever. "I did not know you had plans to work on your automail, Edward."
"Eh?" He blinked, then looked at the bag. "Oh, the wrench! I promised Winry I'd write. I figured a present wouldn't hurt. I mean, girls like gifts, right?"
Mustang eyed him, then nodded, as if understanding. "Most people would send flowers. You must know the girl very well to think she'd like a tool instead."
Edward laughed nervously. He didn't know if Mustang was teasing him, or understood why he was sending a gift. "Well, she's always been a bit of an automail geek, and that's not the type of thing that she would grow out of."
"Hmm." Mustang smirked, and Edward had the feeling he hadn't been understanding. "I can have my staff look up some of the technical details of some of the machinery around here. Is Winry the blonde at the Rockbell place? She will grow up to be a very lovely lady."
A bit from column A, Edward realized with a sigh, and a bit from column B. He could put up with the teasing, though. At least Mustang understood the why behind the gift.
***
Flip page. Read. Flip page. Resist urge to rub shoulder. Flip page. Stop arm from completing the gesture of rubbing the shoulder...
"Edward, how long has that been hurting?"
Flip page. Ignore Mustang...
"Edward."
Flip.
"Edward." That caused the boy to look up, almost flinching at the similarities between that tone of voice and when Mustang had told Hughes to leave. "You've been in pain since your first assignment, and now you keep almost rubbing your right shoulder. Is there something about that assignment you didn't tell me?"
Edward sighed, sitting up from the slouched position he had been in to read the alchemy book. "No, no. It must be the way I sit, right? Not good for the shoulder."
The look Mustang gave him was pure Do you think I'm that stupid? glare. "I have seen you read, and you lay down as often as you sit. And each time you pick a different position."
A blush crawled across Edward's cheeks, as if the man had said something more intimate than that. It was irritating, but he had started to realize Mustang's looks were awfully similar to the preternatural attractive looks of the Baron. But, Edward thought sourly, one look at that guy's eyes and it was obvious that just because he's attractive doesn't mean I'm gonna like him. Sure, Mustang had been much kinder than the look in the Baron's eyes, but it still didn't make him like the Lt. Colonel better.
"What is wrong with your shoulder?"
Edward jumped, not really expecting Mustang to say anything else. "I don't know," he replied truthfully. "It just feels really uncomfortable all the time, and sometimes it hurts."
Mustang looked at him, then stood and leaned over to press his fingers into his shoulder. "H-hey!" Edward tried to pull away. The last time Mustang had ever really touched him... the blush burned brighter on his cheeks, and his right wrist remembered the warmth and the pressure of his fingers against Edward's skin. "I don't think I need you to do that...!"
"It doesn't seem swollen." Mustang shifted his fingers lower, testing around the joint. "Nor do the muscles seem that tense. You might want to see a doctor about that." He pulled his fingers back, allowing the back of his hand to brush over Edward's chin. That simple touch caused Edward's breath to catch. He looked up at Mustang's dark eyes, almost certain his eyes echoed the hunger in the Lt. Colonel's face. Mustang brushed his knuckles over Edward's chin again, his thumb up to caress the skin under his lips. A breath tumbled out over Edward's parted lips, surprised at how that light touch felt. He was only twelve, but damn it, Edward wanted. He wanted... what that hunger set deep in those dark eyes meant. He leaned forward slightly, a bit into the touch and a bit to see what the man would do.
Mustang pulled his hand back, face aggressively bland over the previous look. "You seem a bit flushed," he said, his voice conversational as he stepped back. "Why don't you go rest?"
Edward stood on shaky legs, surprised at the fact he had an erection forming. "A-aah. Yeah. Wake me when it's time for dinner." He couldn't help but look down Mustang's body, comforted a bit that it wasn't just him that had been affected by something so simple. Even though it was still gross to see a man twice his age with an erection because of a twelve year old.
He closed his door securely, and threw himself onto his bed. If he went to sleep, then the arousal he had felt at Mustang's touch could have just been a weird dream and he could forget it. Edward pressed his face into the pillow, ignoring for the moment that his hips were shifting restlessly against the mattress. Now all he had to do was get to sleep.
His hips grinding his erection against his clothing wasn't helping with that thought. Edward sighed, rolling over onto his back. For some reason, that was almost worse as he felt oddly exposed. He doubted that Mustang would change his mind and come to molest him while he laid there, but if he wanted to, all that damned Lt. Colonel had to do was touch him and the memories would do the rest. Edward licked his lips. What if Mustang hadn't stopped?
After a moment, Edward opened his eyes, staring down at the mess he had made. He would have to take a bath or a shower, but he really didn't want to sit up. His body felt too good to do that. He lifted his hand, and realized he was gulping back a nauseous feeling at the sight of the white smears.
It was true. He looked at his hand, and down at his body. If Mustang had just a few less morals and a few more hormones, at that time, Edward probably would have welcomed whatever the Lt. Colonel had wanted to do. He swallowed again, pushing off his pants and fumbling for his robe.
"He's more than twice my age," Edward whispered to himself, frustrated as he was unable to tie the sash. "It's gross, and I'm only twelve. It's gross for a guy to like someone that young." He was cold to the bone, as if no amount of warm clothing would keep him from shivering. "Damn it, I'm twelve!"
He wrapped the robe tightly, scurrying to the shower with the hope he wouldn't run into Mustang again. Edward just didn't think he would be able to deal with the encounter right then.
***
"Now, point your arm to the sky."
Edward did so, still irritated with Mustang. It was one thing to demand him to go to the doctor. It was a totally different idea when the man actually dragged a resisting Edward in. And the worst part was that Mustang told the doctor the truth about what "military spy" meant. The boy really didn't want to be lectured again about sexually transmitted diseases.
"Hmm. You can lower your arm. The joint doesn't seem damaged, nor do the muscles seem that tense. Do you sleep on your side, or do you lean more on your right arm?"
"Um..." Edward thought about that. "I sleep on my side, yeah. I do a lot of reading, and I don't remember hurting my shoulder that way."
The doctor got up, looking into his medicine cabinet. "Well, try not to use your right arm that much. I'm going to give you some muscle relaxants. Take only, and I do mean only one when your arm hurts." He came back with a vial. "And Edward, keep your... job activities to a minimum. There are certain positions that will put strain on that arm."
"Will you stop it?!" Edward glared at him, really wishing he was back in his clothing instead of sitting in the middle of a doctor's office in his boxers. "I didn't choose to spy this way, and I'm not going to stop until I get results." He started to get up, then frowned. "Doctor. What do you know about diseases that will cause someone to cough uncontrollably?"
The doctor froze. "So." He put down the vial, and looked Edward in the eye. "Lt. Colonel Mustang asked me this as well and I'll tell you what I told him. Unless I have the patient... or in this case, the cadaver, in front of me, I can't make a diagnosis. I would need to know more of the symptoms and neither of you seem to know more than coughing. Being that she lived in that part of town, the woman is probably ashes now. Whatever it was, it wasn't highly contagious or else both you and the Lt. Colonel would have caught it. So stop worrying about a dead prostitute."
"It wasn't just that. That's how..." Edward swallowed. "My mother coughed a lot too before dying."
The man watched Edward's face, but he was starting to learn how to hide the pain of losing his mother and the horror of the events that happened after. "I'm sorry, I can't help you," he finally said smoothly. "If you'll excuse me, I have other patients."
Mustang was somehow incredibly good at reading Edward's face, and he kept his hands where Edward could see them as they were walking back to the Lt. Colonel's. And the nice part was the boy could see that Mustang's hands were bare.
That nicety didn't keep Edward from yelling at him the way home.
"And then he went on about diseases and in great detail. The worst part, none of those books said a damn thing about pregnancy or diseases. You were letting me go to a deathtrap, you asshole!"
"First off," Mustang finally said, his voice low with anger, "if you had not allowed yourself to be too embarrassed, you would have seen that the books covered both. And my screening of clients doesn't just screen for how rough their sex life is. I am aware of the diseases out there and I am aware that if you contracted one, that would be the end of it. I screen for many things, Edward. Be aware of that."
"Yeah, well!" Edward kicked the ground. "I could have gotten that woman pregnant. I don't want to be a father. I'm too young."
Mustang looked over the boy, thinking. "Are you saying you did not enjoy the experience of being with a woman?"
"WHAT?!" Edward stopped, jaw dropped. "When the HELL did I say that? I liked it, I liked it! I just don't like the risk!"
"Mm. So are you saying men only?"
Edward looked away. "I don't even know if I like men." Liar.
"I am not stupid, Edward, nor do I forget that easily. Don't act like that is not true."
That was quite effective at putting an end to the conversation, and Edward scrubbed at his cheeks as he remembered what he had done when Mustang had just touched him. Sometimes, blushes actually hurt.
***
"A car. Wow. How is it that drunk ass rates me going in an actual car when I had to walk to my first one?"
Mustang sighed, obviously fed up with Edward's attitude about his second client. "Sex between males will leave the bottom feeling sore, especially if it's the bottom's first time. Ashley is very dominant, and he will top you. The car is to make sure you actually manage to get home."
"I'm not going to be that sore."
That earned Edward a glare. "Get going."
"Fine, fine." Edward slipped into the backseat, noticing the driver was either someone dressed like the one that drove him and Mustang to the party, or it was the same driver. Either way, the driver's face was mostly covered by the hat and the upturned collar of the jacket. The drive was sadly short, and the instant Edward shut the door, the driver took off. "So no finding out who drove me here. Fine." He stuck out his tongue at the dust cloud, then turned to the modest house before him. It had a knocker on the door. Edward ignored it and rapped on the wood with his knuckles.
"Ah." Well, at least this time Ashley wasn't drunk. Edward wasn't sure if the glittering awareness of his eyes was good or bad. "Lt. Colonel Mustang's child whore. Come in. Welcome to the house of Ashley Evans."
Edward fought his natural reaction to yell at the man about not being a child, and managed a half smile, half smirk on his face. He didn't quite trust himself to keep his temper if he opened his mouth.
The man motioned Edward in, an oily smile on his face. "Please. Come in, take off your coat and shoes."
It was getting rather cold. Edward stepped in, taking off the coat and his thick soled boots. "Where should I put them?" he asked, his voice strained with nerves and attempting to be pleasant.
"Leave them. Tina will get to them later."
Edward shrugged, placing the boots close to the door and folded his coat over them. He turned back to Ashley, head held high. Out of seemingly nowhere, Ashley's hand slammed into Edward's cheek. He let his face turn with the blow, his eyes widening far enough to hurt.
"Hmm. Used to taking blows?" Ashley grabbed Edward's chin hard, forcing him to look up at him. Edward gulped, starting to feel truly afraid of what this would mean. "You still have quite the spirit left in you. I look forward to testing it." He forced the boy against the back of the couch, leaning down to kiss roughly at his mouth.
Edward didn't kiss back. He knew Mustang had said rougher tastes, but the pain of his cheek and chin scared him. Let him stop at that let him stop at that let him...
A hand rested against Edward's throat as Ashley's lips moved to whisper in the boy's ear. "What does Mustang want?"
"Huh?"
The hand grabbed his throat, hard. "Don't play dumb. I know he wants something."
Edward choked, clawing at Ashley's hand. "M-money," he coughed out. "Support. If you'll give it." He looked up at the man, fighting to breathe past the constriction on his throat.
"Hm." Ashley sober appeared to be a dangerous entity. He mulled over the lie Edward spat out, then shook the boy. "Am I supposed to believe that?"
"Uugh..." It was getting harder to breathe. "Put in a good word... and I'll be at..."
Ashley released him, pushing back a free lock of blond hair. "Of course." The calm, calculating look was back. "You are a tempting creature, but are you just looks?"
Edward swallowed, one hand raising to rub at his neck. "I don't know. I'm new to this. But... ah... you have rough tastes. I won't break at a little handling." He glared up at the man. "And you can test that."
"I see." The blond smirked, and grabbed Edward's hair. "Then on your knees. Please me."
The boy blinked, then realized what he was asking. He gulped and slowly bent down on his knees. His hands reached out, unzipping Ashley's pants, pulling them down. He gulped again, not sure what to do. Edward stroked him, jumping as the flesh stirred slightly.
"You aren't very good at this, are you?" The condescending tone caused Edward's shoulders to flinch. He wasn't looking up when Ashley hit him again, hard enough to cause him to topple over a bit. He caught himself with his left hand, remembering the doctor's orders, and was surprised when Ashley placed his foot on his chest. The man kicked him, then grabbed Edward's collar, dragging him up. "Have I broken you already?"
"You..." Edward gave in, and spat in his face.
Ashley wiped away the spit, chuckling. "Very good. It wouldn't do to have you gone already." He threw Edward to the side, watching the boy crash into the small end table. "Ah." He opened the top drawer, and pulled something out. "Now, you'll be a good boy and not make me tie you up?"
Edward nodded wildly. "You want me to undress? I can strip, I can strip well," he babbled, trying to crawl backwards. "See?" He unbuttoned his shirt and pants, eyes wide and frightened. Being tied up... he might as well be helpless.
"Take off your pants and any undergarments, and turn to your stomach."
The boy did so, laying down on the floor. Mustang had said his tastes were something he could handle, and damn it Edward was going to handle this! He jumped slightly as a slick finger started pushing inside of him. It didn't quite hurt... it actually went in easier than he expected. Edward turned his head, realizing that Ashley had a tube of something that was probably lube in his hand. Then another finger was added, and it started to hurt. With sharp, stabbing motions, Ashley plunged his fingers in deep a few times before withdrawing them. "That damned Mustang..."
Edward let out a pained gasp as Ashley buried himself deeply. Ashley grabbed his hair, pulling his head back. "But it won't matter if I support that bastard or not, will it?" He just trembled, knowing the first sound out of his mouth would be a whimper of pain if he tried to speak. Ashley shook Edward's head, laughing. "Of course it wouldn't matter. Mustang doesn't have a clue what happens outside Central, does he?"
Edward gulped, hoping Ashley would say more. A particularly hard thrust brought tears to his eyes, but he kept the whimpering sounds quiet. Instead, the man turned back to what he was doing.
Ashley pulled out of him tiredly, letting go of his hair. "I got what I paid for, I suppose." He chuckled, throwing a small bag at Edward. "Here. You will say good things to Mustang, won't you?" he asked, voice smoothly dangerous.
Edward smirked as he slowly got up into a kneeling position. "I'll think about it."
The man snorted, and left the room. Edward looked at the bag, curious. He peeked in, surprised at the sight of gold coins. "Huh." He shrugged, and painfully started getting dressed. He was starting to see what Mustang meant about pain.
When Edward finally had everything buttoned up, he looked down at the end table. Ashley hadn't shut the drawer, and the boy could see that there were letters addressed to the man from someone in Xenotime. Edward looked up, and quickly stuffed one letter in his pants pocket. Might be useful.
A nervous face peeked out from where Ashley had gone. "Sir? A-are you needing help?" A girl stepped out, noticing Edward's bare feet. "Oh! Your shoes! I'll get them for you, sir!" She nearly tripped over her own feet scrambling over to the shoes and coat. "Oh, how lovely!" She picked up the coat, examining the stitching. "The stitches are perfectly spaced, but it wasn't done with a machine. Oh, what a masterful hand!"
Edward sighed, holding out his hand. "Can I have my coat and shoes?"
She started, as if she had forgotten Edward was there. "I... I'm so sorry! It's my job to make sure his guests are happy and... I'm so sorry!"
Edward slowly took the coat from her hands. "You shouldn't be sorry. It's not your fault." He shrugged on the coat, and started shoving his feet into the boots.
The girl ran her hands over his coat, awed. "You had a master make this. The fabric is top notch, and the stitching is firm and even."
"Would you like a coat like it?" Edward asked, struck by the similarities between an automail geek and a fabric geek.
"Um... would you rather get me the materials? Sir doesn't allow me to buy them for myself, and I would much rather make it." A blush spread over her cheeks. Edward realized she was maybe eight, nine. Much younger than he was. "I'm not that good, but I can sew."
It didn't seem to be a problem. "Sure."
Her face sparkled, and she bowed several times. "Thank you! I... Tina, sir!"
Edward waved as he exited the house. "I'll see you, okay, Tina?" He closed the door, noticing the car was back but not really caring. He just had to rest for a moment. Moving around caused his backside to hurt, and the sooner he got in that car, the sooner he would have to think about what was said. The boy slid the bag into his coat pocket, and walked over to the back car door. It was probably better to get the letter back to Mustang as soon as possible.
The driver never even looked up at him during the drive back. Edward was thankful for that. He stepped out of the car, dimly aware that the driver didn't even wait for him to close the door this time. Edward quickly entered Mustang's place, sliding to his knees as his legs gave out.
"Edward." Mustang was beside him, reaching out to steady him. "He..."
"Xenotime. He had a letter from Xenotime. And he said something about it not mattering if he gave his support or not." Edward pulled the crumpled letter out of his pocket. "I didn't have time to transmute a copy."
Mustang opened the letter up, still bent down beside Edward. "Red water," he hissed out. "The bastard is using the red water."
"I'm getting tired of this," Edward snapped. "What is red water?"
The Lt. Colonel skimmed the rest of the letter quickly, paling. "Children. He..." His face showed the disgust in his voice. "Red water is the precursor to an incomplete Philosopher's Stone. But it requires humans."
Edward felt his stomach rebel at the thought. "Children... you don't mean...!"
"The plan detailed here is to inject red water into mothers. The children would be the sacrifice for the Stone." Mustang reached out, pulling the bag out of Edward's coat pocket. He opened it, and pulled out a coin. "Gold. Does killing unborn children really pay that well?"
Edward just looked at him, wishing Mustang was wrong. He had to be. He wasn't. "That bastard," he whispered. "It has to stop!" He was going to go on, but the man cupped his injured cheek. "Ow!"
"It'll stop," Mustang promised. "How badly did he hurt you?"
Edward blinked. "My face... he hit it twice. My chest. Kicked me. And my back. That end table has sharp corners." He stood shakily. "I'll take a warm shower and put some salve on it. I'll be fine."
"Are you bleeding?"
"What?"
Mustang stood, tapping Edward's rear end. "From here."
He jumped, and shook his head. "I don't know, but don't touch me. That hurts."
The Lt. Colonel frowned. "After you shower, go lay down on your bed. Face down. You can't reach your back that well, and massaging salve into your lower back will make it feel better."
"What? No way!" Edward blushed, hating it. "I said I'll be fine."
Mustang just glared. "Bed. Face down."
Edward ran off for his shower, not bothering to answer. It hurt more to take off the clothing than it did to put it on. He was starting to stiffen. The warm water relaxed his muscles enough that he could wash himself. Edward was starting to hate washing off dried or drying semen. He dried off as quickly as he could, and slunk back to his room. Where, of course, Mustang was waiting with that damned salve. "What the hell are you doing here?!"
"I will not argue with you any longer. If you make this harder for me, I will be forced to set back your clients, and that means you will be here longer."
Edward gripped the towel around his waist tighter, growling. "That doesn't mean I'll let you put your hands on me."
He gave the boy a withering look. "You are attractive, but I am not willing to change the status quo because of lust. You are mine, below me in this relationship, and not my equal. Get on the bed."
"Fine." Edward threw the towel off, carefully laying down on the bed. "Here, you like it? It's a nice piece of twelve year old ass, huh? You like it, Lt. Colonel?"
Mustang refused to rise to the bait, and started spreading the salve over Edward's back. "You aren't bleeding, thankfully." His fingers lightly slid over the sore spots, careful. His hands settled on Edward's lower back, and he started to dig his fingers into the tensing muscles.
It actually felt good.
No it doesn't. I'm angry with Mustang. It feels horrible.
It was really relaxing.
If I go to sleep, that damned bastard's going to take advantage of it.
And Mustang was keeping the touch just on his lower back.
Edward fell asleep.