A/N: This was a short, sweet one that I wanted to write. I'm trying to make sure that these don't get too long. It's bad enough as it is. But enjoy!
Roy Mustang had been kissed many times in his life. While much of his playboy nature was designed to disguise his informant meetings, he had done his share of dating. He noticed that there were lots of different types of kisses with different meanings and feelings behind each one. One of his first kisses was with a young girl when he was barely out of elementary school. He was playing 'house' and there was a moment of 'this is what parents do as part of being parents.' He forgot the girl's name, but he remembered that it felt weird and short and kind of wet.
Then, there were his kisses with the girl Leah in his 8th grade class, which had the strange taste of changing hormones and something deeper that he felt like he didn't quite get. He distinctly remembered the teasing they both got, and how embarrassed the girl was that he told everyone he had kissed a girl before anyone else. He mostly did it on a dare, but kind of liked the way her bright hazel eyes fluttered closed when she leaned into him. Roy wondered if kissing was supposed to make his heart thump wildly in his chest.
He first realized his love for kissing with Rosaline. The pretty girl at the bookstore was all wild hair and freckles, her mouth wide with laughter and sultry smirks. She was the first to teach him how to use his tongue, and where else he could practice his oral ministrations. He felt the stirrings of the deep, unquenchable fire in the pit of his stomach. It was the type of kissing that made the world spin like he had spent too much time on the dance floor. Roy was really fond of this kissing.
It wasn't until he met the daughter of his alchemy teacher when he found another, stranger occurrence. This wasn't the awkward, tentative locking of lips from his youth, nor was it driven by the testosterone-induced frenzy with Rosaline. Her fingers kissed the underside of his jaw, her mouth tracing the corner of his lips. It was a ghost of a kiss, something delicate and inquisitive and so completely her. It came after two years of quiet bonding with Riza Hawkeye. With one brush of her mouth against his, he felt the fierce desire to protect this fledging relationship with this unusual girl. They did not explore each other in the way he had with his last lover. For some reason, he did not think to push her further. This kissing was not insistent. It was like savoring a fine meal or an old book. It was strange, and Roy did not sleep that night. Not with the distinct taste of tea and honeysuckle tickling his tongue.
Before he left after her father's funeral, Roy came across the resigned, subdued kiss that preceded a painful goodbye. He almost wished she had been mad at him. It would've saved him from tasting the salt against her skin or the way she trembled against him like he had destroyed the foundation on which she had built her life. He nearly wished that she insisted he stay, so he could push against the woman she had become and forget how she fit into his arms as though they had been two people crafted from the same mold. It was the kind of kiss that lasted entirely too long and not nearly long enough. It left him aching in places he did not know existed. It was the only time he felt uncertain about his future and it was the only time he questioned whether or not he was doing the right thing. Roy did not like this kind of kissing.
In the years to come, Roy had to find creative ways to continue courting his Queen. The kisses of the beauties in his favorite bars were stale in comparison. During the military balls, he would catch sight of Riza Hawkeye, dressed in her high-necked finery. He learned to hold her hand like a butterfly, balancing her digits against his palm and sweeping his mouth against her knuckles. It was a kiss of propriety, of courteous respect. It was completely appropriate from a distance. But he could see the flash of defiance in her eyes, almost daring him to make it last longer. He felt her pulse jump against the pad of his thumb. It was an innocuous gesture, almost silly in comparison to his previous escapades. Still, there was a sense of danger and primal thrill he got every time. They had long since learned how to keep from blushing. They knew how to avoid unnecessary contact. So this small victory, this small reminder of the history they shared and the future they planned was enough to keep him going when his bed felt too cold and big for just him.
Then there was the kiss that happened late at night, after half a bottle of whiskey and a hard-won victory. When everyone had left or fallen asleep, it was just the two of them and the unspoken feelings that hung heavy in the air. It was the kiss that neither one of them had anticipated, but once it started they couldn't stop it. It tasted of liquor and something dark and distinct that washed over him like the changing tide. Her body fit into his like she had never left and they crashed together with the reckless abandon of two young lovers. Roy was heady with emotions and a forgotten fervor that swept him up and made him senseless. It was the kind of kiss that she would forget in the morning, leaving him to wonder if he was relieved or a little emptier because of it.
Finally, there was the kind of kiss they shared when they had finished. This kiss came after he was sworn into office, when they had achieved their dreams. He had watched her, her face shining with joy and pride in their shared accomplishments. In the private moments after the ceremony, she had pulled him aside to congratulate him. He had kissed her then, reveling for the first time in the freedom his position brought him. Nearly 20 years of history sliced through the electric contact they made. It was rich and full of a complete understanding of the other person. It was the kiss that made him understand what it meant to be someone's other half. Altogether, the kiss was brief. They still had a dinner to attend and people to greet. But their short moment was a promise. A promise of what was to come that night. A promise of what his new dream would be. A promise of the future they had to deny themselves for so long. That, Roy realized, was his favorite kiss of all.