OUR LIVES, CHAPTER 22: THAT WHICH DOES NOT DESTROY US…

BY The Binary Alchemist 2013

"Hey! Waitaminute!" Ed was about to shrug out of his shirt when he noticed a small bruise on his lover's backside. "Where the hell did that come from?"

Roy glanced over his shoulder, then grimaced. "What?" Innocence, feigned or otherwise, might divert Ed from the small bluish mark that stood out in stark relief against his ivory skin.

"You've got a bruise on your butt."

A dark brow lifted a fraction. "You should be more careful."

"That's not an automail bruise, and I sure as hell didn't see that when we were in the shower this morning."

"You pay that much attention to my ass? I'm flattered." A flash of smirk…yes, that might be enough to distract him…

Gold eyes narrowed. "She goosed you."

"Huh?"

"That dame Gladys. She grabbed your ass."

"Your deductive skills are impressive. You should work with Falman in investigations." There was no point in denying the evidence. "And I assure you," Roy sighed, " I assure you I did not grab back."

Edward wasn't angry. As a matter of fact, there was something downright wicked about the grin he offered the President. "Did she get you hard?"

"You're insane!"

A broad hand in the middle of his chest shoved him playfully back against the headboard. "Tell the truth, asshole." The grin turned hungry and determined as Edward, clad in nothing but an open dress shirt, tie undone and hanging loosely over his bare chest, climbed his way up Roy's supine body until his bare knees were locked around Roy's hips. "C'mon, Roy! You were getting off on all that attention, weren't you?" A hand reached down between the older man's thighs and squeezed. "Did you want to fuck her?"

"It's called the Gallant Reflex." All Roy's saliva had dried up and his face was turning an intriguing shade of crimson. Something headstrong and impatient was poking him in the groin and he squirmed as much as humanly possible with his hips trapped in that vise-like grip. "It was purely a biological reaction. "

"You admit it, She got you hard." His lover leaned in close and put his mouth to Roy's ear. "I'll get you harder…"

###

Davy Collins was making his final rounds of the Bradley house before turning in for the night. Mrs. Bradley always asked him to look in on Selim and he never minded. The young man was generally so gentle and tractable that he wasn't much trouble at all…

…except when he was. Those were very bad nights indeed.

Nobody wanted to drug Selim but there didn't seem to be much choice. One of the Central doctors—not one of the military doctors but a civilian—talked about some new treatment called 'electroconvulsive therapy'. A brief pulse of low electrical current could be administered to induce a mild seizure while the patient was sedated. "It will get rid of these episodes he's been having," the doctors assured Mrs. Bradley but she still wouldn't agree to it. Collins didn't agree either. As he had explained to the President earlier that day, "I'm sorry, Sir—but don't you think it's inhumane?"

Mustang had agreed. "There have been enough horrible things done to Selim Bradley. Tell Mrs. Bradley that if the doctors pressure her to give Selim any type of therapy she does not approve of to contact me immediately."

"There's something about alchemy that drives the poor fellow half –mad."

"Again, that is not surprising. I'm afraid," Mustang's tone became crisp and formal, "that I am not presently at liberty to give you any details. And since he had the most recent episode of terrors after a nurse visit I will arrange for military nurses and doctors to oversee his care from this point on. Did you get a good look at the woman who came the night of his last…event?"

"I'm sorry, Sir,"

"I expect you to be more observant in future."

"Yes, Sir."

In the end it was determined that a mild, herbal sedative was acceptable to all. Even Selim was consulted and agreed that he would not mind taking 'some soothing syrup to help you sleep'. A mixture of chamomile, valerian root, hops and catmint may not have tasted pleasant, but at least it was non-narcotic and would not have any dangerous side effects. Besides, Collins always had a spoonful of cinnamon honey at the ready to clear the nasty aftertaste away.

The syrup had done its work. The breathing from Selim's bedroom was gentle and steady and a night-light glowed softly so he would not become frightened if he awakened during the night. A bell-pull sash was close at hand and he knew to ring it if he needed Collins, not that he ever did now that he was taking the sedative.

Davy Collins paused outside Mrs. Bradley's room and called softly, "All well, Ma'am?"

He could almost hear her smile from the other side of the door. "I'm fine, dear. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes, Ma'am. Sleep well, and ring if you need me."

He was stacking up a fresh pile of logs on the hearth when he heard the sound of footsteps muffled by the snow, a "thump!" and a "goddamnit!" that he had heard more than once when a certain younger man had turned his ankle tripping over the boots he has kicked aside in his eagerness to climb into bed and into the man that was waiting for him. He stuck his head out of the front door. "Are you all right?"

"Define 'all right'," called a voice from the shadows. "Last time I was here I got kicked out the front door, bruised my ribs, had a mild concussion—"

"—Maes, listen-"

"—AND, to add insult to injury, it's boring as fuck-all with you gone, and in spite of the aforementioned injuries I'm just idiot enough to come out here in the middle of the night and try to persuade you to talk to me….because…because…shit!" Something collided with the rose trellis. "All right, Collins!" It was somewhere between a whisper and a bellow. It sounded mad as hell and it took all of Sebastian's training to keep Davy from laughing. "Get your scrawny ass out here and talk to me, you dickhead! You don't just chuck me out and flush a lifetime of friendship down the crapper!"

A tall figure stumbled into the blade of light from the open doorway. The figure was hatless, coatless, but wore a scarf that Elycia had knitted for Davy knotted around his throat. The soft wings of pale hair that framed his face were dusted with snow. His lab jacket was torn at the sleeve—presumably from the rose trellis-and the motorcycle goggles shoved back on his head were fogged over—undoubtedly the reason he had collided with the birdbath. He had obviously parked his bike and sidecar up the street so that the engine's rumbling wouldn't give him away.

Maes was flushed and panting and scuffed and bleeding a bit from scratches on his cheek and if there had been even the slightest hesitation in Davy's mind about letting Maes Elric into the house it would have evaporated at the sight of his lover being ever at the ready to make an ass of himself in public to make a point….just like his legendary father.

And that was as close to romantic as an Elric was likely to get.

"Can I have my scarf back?"

"Hell no, and don't ask me again." Maes snatched it back testily. "After you buggered off to this place and left me…AND then proceeded to kick me out the front door…I should think I deserve something as a payback." He winced as Davy daubed antiseptic on his scratches. "I know you don't want me here—"

"Maes, that's not it—"

"—but I figured at this hour I wasn't likely to upset anyone—and I AM sorry, by the way. How the hell was I supposed to know Selim would react to alchemy like that?"

"You couldn't have known, dear. It's all right."

Both young men turned abruptly. Mrs. Bradley stood in the doorway in her dressing gown and slippers, a tea pot in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other. The genuine warmth in the old woman's smile assured Maes that she was not angry at him. "And I do hope you'll join us for breakfast."

Maes glanced at the gentle, accepting smile of the former First Lady of Amestris, then to the corner of his best friend's mouth, which was twitching almost imperceptively with barely suppressed laughter. He bit into a sugar cookie and frowned. "I bet you've forgotten how I like my morning toast. Very crispy and browned, butter on both sides and—"

"Permission to smother our guest with a sofa cushion, Ma'am?"

###

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded amused. "Well," there was a cynical chuckle in Samuelson's ear, "I suppose you could always get your old job back at the network. I hear the cinema critic is out on maternity leave."

"Very funny."

"You won't be laughing so hard on election day, Donal. Mustang just knocked you out without laying a glove on you." There was a deep intake of breath as if Archer was drawing on a cigarette. "You should be listening to your rival network. ABC Radio has an all night chat show, and Mustang couldn't pay for this kind of publicity."

"As I recall," Samuelson answered coolly, " you wrote the book on Mustang—you and that over-painted trollop you've teamed up with. I understand the book party at the gallery is a black-tie affair. See if you can get her to chisel off a few layers of makeup so she's presentable."

"I've got a more than enough material on you, my friend. Your bar tabs could rival the national debt, for starters. "

"And you're pure as the driven snow. Don't make me laugh." He sighed heavily. "None of us come this far with clean hands. What do you want?"

"It's not what I want, Donal. It's what you want. Mustang's head on a platter. You know what you have to do, who to call, and what to say to get them to listen to you." Another deep, smoky breath. "I've got the press coming out tomorrow night to see the pictures from Ishbal. All the suits and the uniforms and the big wigs. When the press sees those pictures in the gallery, there are going to be a lot of old men in Parliament and in the military who are not going to want to get splattered when the shit hits the fan. There is going to be a backlash and somebody needs to be the scapegoat. As they say," Archer laughed nastily, "I'll get you the story. You provide the war. Understood?"

###

After the debate Nina had headed over to Elycia's comfortable flat above Il Gattina. It always amused her that when she was little her great grandmother Pinako and old man Faust used these rooms as their trysting place. Granny had been a randy old soul at heart and Nina loved the stories of Pinako's "Pantheress of Resembool" days.

"Where's Maes?" Elycia handed Nina a cup of coffee laced with brandy and topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream.

"Gone to make it up with Davy, I expect." Nina might find love an annoying distraction but she heartily approved of her brother's choice in a companion. "He said something about kissing and making up if he had to break Davy's arm to do it. How Rockbell is that, I ask you? Went off on his bike. Hope he doesn't wrap it around the lamp post again." She glanced at Elycia who was pouring a double shot into her own mug and stirring the brew with such force it was splashing onto her saucer. "You don't like them together." Her friend made a noncommittal shrug. "Leesie…might as well let that one pass," Nina sighed. "My brother—"

"—could be with anyone…man or woman—"

"—they've been friends almost all Maes' life. Who knew it would turn out like this?" Nina took the cup and saucer out of Elycia's hands. "But it has. Time to move on. Don't end up like Aunt Riza or my mom."

Elycia looked over at her companion. "What's up with Winry?"

"Uncle Pitt is sleeping at the clinic these days, and I don't think Uncle Alphonse is going back anytime soon."

"Oh, no! Are they—"

"—cooling things down a bit, " Nina nodded. "Mom's been a little overbearing these days. Probably a reaction to Granny passing, but it's getting on everybody's nerves. She was all over Maes to move back home and come work for the automail clinic. She's got a half a dozen village girls on a short list of prospective daughter-in-laws. And she was telling me to hurry up and finish in medicine so I can partner with Uncle Pitt. Yes, she's got the whole scenario nicely planned out for my brother and me and it's not on, Leesie. It's not on. "

"You're still planning to finish in medicine, right?"

Nina looked thoughtful. "I might do—but all night I've been thinking…you heard Poppy on the radio?" Elycia nodded. Nina's fixed her gaze on the flames cracking cheerfully on the hearth. "I watched him up on that stage—I listened to all those people….Leesie, if you're a doctor, you can heal one person at a time. But think about Poppy…he can do so much good for so many…and it's important to him. It's the most important thing in the world, even more than Daddy and me and Maes. We've talked about it a lot, how all he ever wanted to do was take care of Ametris and he made out the best career path to follow to accomplish that. Even if he loses the election, it won't stop him. Before we came along, all he wanted to do was be a good father to the people—to undo the damage, to stop the wars, to educate and improve the economy."

Elycia recognized the expression on her best friend's face. Some time—at some point during the course of this evening, Nina Elric had finally made up her mind over what to do with her tremendous intellect and drive and determination. She patted Nina's arm. "You know," she said softly, "you're going to need people you can depend on to stand by you, To help you make it wherever you're going. Mom and I will be there for you, okay?"

The green eyes of Nina Elric were steady and clear. She nodded, smiling a little. "Every Mustang needs a Hughes."

"And, " Elycia touched her cup to Nina's, "Every Hughes needs a Mustang."

"Mustang-Elric," Nina corrected with a smile.

###

"You know why my dad doesn't practice alchemy?"

A lean hand stretched down to stroke the tousled head in his lap, one cheek resting on the pale, faded bullet scar Collins had gotten saving the son of a perfect stranger on the day that changed his life. "Doesn't? Or can't?"

"Exactly." Maes nuzzled the scar thoughtfully. "I don't know all the details, but when Dad and Uncle Alphonse were kids they messed around with alchemy and something went wrong. Dad got hurt—that's how he lost his leg and arm. Uncle Al got so messed up he had to hide in armor for years. I always guessed Auntie Mai and her people set him right, 'cause I know she helped Dad get his arm back, although I'll be damned if I know how. But that was the end of it for the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"How old was he?"

"Sixteen, I think. And you know what else? I think it's probably all in his head."

"In his head? You mean you think it's psychosomatic?"

"Sure!" Maes reached over and sipped from the glass of wine they shared. "Alchemists have a sort of..well, they call it a Gateway…it's inside your mind. You open that Gate in your mind to use alchemy."

"Sounds too hard for me."

"Well it wasn't too hard for me or my sister. I've been doing it since I was five or six. It's not like that Gateway could be given up or go away or close forever, is it? I think Dad just doesn't want to go there because of how Uncle Al got hurt." He looked thoughtful. "That's what made me think of Selim."

Collins looked puzzled. "What are you getting at?"

"Well, he throws those fits because something out of the blue sets him off, right?"

"More or less."

"Right! Then maybe if we find out what it is and Selim faces it and gets through facing it, he'll get well. That's better than going through life all drugged up, right? Maybe he's simple minded because he's spent his whole life shutting something back. He's not damaged, is he? He's not got any sort of retardation or birth injury?" Collins shook his head. "Okay. I know you can't say anything, but I can. I'll talk to Mrs. Bradley. I can't believe she wants Selim to spend his life doped up or in some madhouse. Because," Maes sat up and smoothed his hair out of his eyes, "I don't think Selim Bradley is slow, any more than I think my dad can't do alchemy anymore. Dad won't even discuss it, but maybe Selim….."

His lover looked doubtful. "Maes, you could be wrong. There are some things in life we just can't get over."

"You know what the Milos say?" Maes slapped Collin's naked thigh for emphasis, "'That which does not destroy us can only make us strong in the end'

###

Edward Elric could not transmute the brass headboard but the sashes that tied up their respective bath robes would do in a pinch. "Can't move?" Roy shook his head. "Good. You and I are going to have a little chat about the Ice Cream Blonde. Comfy?"

"Not exactly," Roy grunted. "I'm getting a cramp in my leg." Not surprising, since both ankles were tied to the bedpost behind him, as well as his wrists, which were behind his head.

"Tough shit." Ed admired his handiwork. Not that Roy hadn't dared him to do it and cooperated willingly. "Now then, about Gladys Turlough. Aunt Chris says she's a one-woman sporting event—The Amestrian Open. Now,' he rummaged in the night stand and removed a corked bottle that had been imported from a certain dealer in the Ishballan souks—the same man who had sold Roy Mustang a book of erotic desert poetry many years ago. It was labeled 'Oil of the Moon". The first time Roy had used it on Ed had been on a wild night before Ed left for Drachma when they had shared a double saddle and ridden together under the stars. They had saved the bottle for special occasions. This was one of them.

Ed held up the bottle and Roy swallowed hard, nodding, his face flushing as deeply as the cock that twitched impatiently on his belly. "I don't care if you fuck her. I really don't give a damn." He carefully removed the stopper and sniffed. It smelled cool, but felt warm when rubbed on the skin, growing hot if blown upon. "I'm absolutely serious. You want to fuck Gladys Turlough or any woman, for that matter. Be my guest. You wanna know why?"

"I have no idea."

"Because they can't give you this." An oiled finger slid up to the knuckled and stroked. Roy's eyes rolled back in his head. The finger curled. Just one single finger, and it moved in and out and circled with a purpose. "They don't know you…they never will. They never did, all that time when you were fucking your way up the chain of command, getting all that information from the lovers of those other officers." The finger withdrew and Ed leaned in closer. "You had your fun. You don't have anything against women." The bottle tipped again into the palm of Edward's hand. "You like fucking them. You enjoyed it back in those days, didn't you?"

"Y..yesssss"

"Of course you did. It felt good. However," the voice became a seductive whisper as Edward climbed up his lover's body, "there's a difference between what feels…good…and satisfying…and then there's what can…drive…you…out..of…your…goddamn…mind. You taught me that. You taught me that first time in the hospital…remember?"

He pushed. It burned. Roy hissed. Ed was rubbing against him from the outside, from just inside, withdrawing…teasing. "Of course," he continued, "there are all kinds of ways to make it work. The way I make it work when you're half a world away from me. I have all those wonderful little…toys—"

"AGHHH!"

"—to play with. Gladys is pretty smart. There's no telling what she did to Havoc. I'm sure she's got one of those toys for her girlfriends. Maybe she can read you. Maybe she would rub up against you and tell you what she could do to make it unforgettable…" He pushed again, barely breaching, circling, spreading the heat and slickness. "There's no telling what she's got to play with . And it might get you off for an afternoon or two." The burning gold eyes became enormous.

"I can get you off for a lifetime. And I will."

His wrists were instantly freed, hands moving up to caress, to pull that driving body down into Roy's embrace. Pale thighs strained and shook as Edward spread them wider, leaning back, giving Roy an unobstructed view of everything he ever wanted and no woman could ever give him. "Look at me…look at me going into you." Ed was at the edge of sanity. He was the taker being taken, helpless because the man under him owned him in every way that mattered. Ed couldn't take his eyes off his own cock, darkly flushed and swollen to bursting, gliding slickly in and out of his lover. "That woman could do this to you if you wanted—but you don't, do you?"

"Never."

"Right…because,,ahh…ohhhgodddd…SHIT!…b-because…if she did it…you couldn't feel her heartbeat inside you…like I feel it when you f…fu..fuckme…so deep…."

"…like I feel you right now…"

His hair stuck to his shoulders and chest. He was panting furiously, his balls growing tight. His voice was a hoarse whisper now. "I've been tempted…oh fuck have I been tempted when I'm gone…when I've gotta fuck…just gotta fuck…anyone…anything…feel like I'm gonna die I'm so alone…and I don't…I caaaa…aan't…can't…I get the book…I look at you…nothin' comes close…"

"…better than any goddamn woman…better than Hughes…" Roy growled at him, yanking him close and biting down hard on a scarred shoulder.. "Oh, fuck yes…"

Edward abruptly pulled back, out and his hand yanked at the sashes, freeing Roy's ankles. Crawling up frantically, he spread himself with both hands and sank down hard and deep, a low groan slipping out of him as Roy slammed up to meet him.

Lips that were gnawed half bloody pressed against Roy's ear. "They don't love me."

It was too damn much to bear. The exquisite torment of being filled to the bursting, the lingering heat of the oil, the sudden bliss of Edward straddling his hips, riding him with his wet hair whipping across his face and down his back, a wet cock straining against his belly. Roy caught Edward in his hands and their fingers laced together as Edward rocked down hard and squeezed, as if he wanted to take the whole of Roy Mustang, body and soul, inside himself and to keep him there, deep, up under his heart, where nobody could ever separate them again.

They were rooted together. Edward's eyes had gone from slits of gold to wide open and strangely wet. The look he gave his lover told Roy everything he needed to know about being naked with another person—in the truest sense of the word.

"I love you."

He said it once. He said it twice. He said it, his eyes meeting Roy's. He whispered it. He moaned it as he filled his lover's clenched fist, pearly droplets spattering an ivory chest, He panted it as his hips were bruised by scarred hands that drove him down and down again and he felt that hot gush pulsing inside him. He heard his own admission gasped in his own ears, against his own skin, into his own open mouth as their tongues collided.

Side by side, they rested, fingers lightly entwined, laughing a little as they caught their breaths.

"One more thing."

"Huh?"

"If she touches your dick, she's dead."

…TO BE CONTINUED…