To every outlandish, self-serving, and sometimes damn near suicidal thing that Edward Elric suggested, Jean Havoc would always reply mildly, with just a touch of good humor, "You're the boss."
"You're the boss," he said when Ed threw the car keys at him, demanding a ride home; "You're the boss," was fumbled past slightly preoccupied lips when Ed slapped his cigarette clear out of his mouth and kissed him before they were even through the door, hissing about the sorts of tortures that awaited him, as always, if he were to breathe a word of this to anyone; Havoc had only hesitated for the briefest of moments when first faced with the specifically-altered women's military uniform before shrugging, once, and responding with the same predictable mantra: "You're the boss."
And there he was, hands tied firmly to the headboard and dressed in women's military drag, responding softly in contrast to fierce kisses, metal fingers twisting painfully in his hair. Ed was all over him, everywhere—it was almost miraculous because the alchemist was so short—there were toes stroking up and down the insides of his calves and between his own feet, sharp pelvic bones and an equally as hard erection wriggling on his thighs and hips, hands dancing around his chest and tickling below his navel, and lips exploring the regions northward of his shoulders.
Ed's voice purred dangerously in his ear, and the shorter blonde nibbled at the delicate appendage as he spoke. "Ya like that, eh?" One of his knees pushed up under the blue fabric of the skirt. "Maybe I'll just leave you tied up here and begging for more, how'd ya like that?"
He might—he'd try, at least. "You're the boss," Havoc replied, knowing that when it came down to the wire, Ed would suffer more than he would if they were to stop now. He was too new at the whole thing to effectively torture anyone, and to be honest, all he really wanted to hear was the word 'please'. It gave him a charge, thrilled him the way nothing else could, and chances were, he would do damn near anything you wanted as long as you asked for it with 'please'.
It was all right, though. Havoc was a mellow sort of guy, and he could afford the occasional jab to his ego if he meant he got some really great sex. Asking nicely for something was just a crash course on what his mother had taught him about good manners, and wearing a woman's skirt wasn't that bad, since they were the only two who'd ever see it, and Ed found the thing just plain too hot to get on his case about it.
"Right, I'm the boss," Ed affirmed clearly, nodding to punctuate his point and kissing the taller blonde again, back to squirming. It didn't take much to get him aroused, but he had the peculiar habit of reining himself in until he was full to the breaking point, until he just couldn't stand it anymore, and it oftentimes made for violent sex. Havoc didn't mind that much, but it was getting sort of awkward to endure all the knowing stares at the office when he stood for the entirety of the next day. Just his luck that he'd end up with a desk job.
"So as the boss," Ed continued, as a sort of dreamy looked passed over his face, "I'm gonna pin your wrists behind your head, and I'm gonna gag you until you choke, and then you're gonna suck me off. How's that sound?" His eyes were yellow fire, and he clapped, turning—amazingly enough—some leather from his pants and some metal from the bedframe into a ringed object with buckles and leather straps.
Well. Clearly the kid had been doing his homework. It'd been a long time since Havoc had seen a ring gag.
Ed noted his recognition, and an anticipatory grin lit up his face. "Afraid yet, Lieutenant? Will you struggle? Will you try to stop me?"
Havoc shrugged; laced his fingers together. "You're the boss." As an afterthought, he stretched open his jaw and lolled his tongue out a little. "Aaaaah."
Ed grumbled at his cheek and forced the gag in his mouth, muttering something about insolent pups and fastening the straps behind his head, lacing them tight enough to make the older blonde wince. Havoc was starting to lose the feeling in his fingers, and he stretched his arms experimentally, trying to get the blood flowing there.
A ring gag—hell, any sort of gag—was uncomfortable; it left his mouth stretched open and he couldn't close it to swallow, so he ended up drooling a bit, looking undoubtedly like a moron. Edward's tongue was swirling around in his open mouth. A cold hand was forcing it's way up the skirt to rub at the crease of his hip and thigh. The Second Lieutenant grunted, unable to clench his jaw, and thus an uneven barrage of noises were allowed free passage past his lips.
Ed, for his part, looked like a bizarre combination of being impossibly turned on while at the same time resembling someone who had already been satiated; he grinned lazily at the movements and noises that Havoc was making, but there was a darkness to his eyes. They burned nearly amber in the dim lamplight. Ed always insisted that they have sex with the lights on.
"Mmm, I like it," the shorter blonde murmured appreciatively, taking in the soldier's mussed hair, gagged mouth, and short miniskirt. His hands jerked impatiently at his own leather belt, fingers fumbling and missing the buckle. Havoc would have taken pity on him and assisted, but alas, Ed had insisted on doing things his way, and the Second Lieutenant just didn't have any hands to spare at the moment.
After gratuitous swearing and several more ill-fated attempts, Ed simply clapped his arm into a blade—ugh, Havoc wasn't too fond of alchemy so close to his face—and sliced the belt to ribbons; he'd complain about it later, but only snort in disbelief when told that his own impatience was at fault. He rose high on his knees and pushed his leather pants down to mid-thigh, not even bothering to get them all the way down.
Havoc tried to swallow—he was drooling again. How disgusting.
Ed, meanwhile, was hovering over him with a look of boyish glee, inching his hips closer and closer to the older blonde's vulnerable mouth, moving with exaggerated slowness. It was clear that he just wanted it to be over with, but again, he would perversely insist on drawing out the ordeal for as long as he could.
Havoc kept his jaw slack and waited for the impact, but it never came. Instead, the fiery blonde threw himself back on his palms explosively and let out a frustrated breath, glaring venomously. "Forget it," he hissed, mouth twisting in a snarl. "This isn't going to work."
The Second Lieutenant would have prodded further with a "...Yes...?", but, uh...ring gag. Instead he raised what he hoped was an inquisitive eyebrow. This was certainly unusual. When pressured so, Ed would usually cast aside all doubts for sometime later and just plow on ahead. And just what exactly wasn't going to work? As far as Havoc was concerned, everything was hunky-dory.
"It's not gonna work," Ed repeated, running his human hand through his hair distractedly. "It's not...you're not... Fuck!" He grimaced as though the next words tasted bad. "You're not struggling enough, dammit!"
Havoc couldn't see how his jaw could drop open any farther than what it was, but it did. Struggle? Why the hell should he struggle? He liked it, for Chrissakes, when he looked past Ed's habitual play toys and the somewhat random violence. It was good, whole-hearted sex; he didn't have to worry about getting up the courage to ask a pretty girl out on a date, and he didn't have to worry that the colonel would come along and snag his potential fling out from underneath him like the man always did. (So he hoped.) And if he was willing to look past even all of that, then Havoc could confess that yes, he liked Ed, yes, the Fullmetal Alchemist was an interesting and funny and well-meaning kid who just happened to dabble occasionally in the the world of BDSM, and yes, he had made it a point in his mind to remember the how and when of the time they'd first gotten together, because it was a particularly endearing incident.
...The fact that he should be trying to stop this boggled the mind, really.
'...an interesting and funny and well-meaning kid who just happened to dabble occasionally in the world of BDSM...'
...Ah. Havoc grinned knowingly around his gag, and Ed frowned at him, puzzled.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Havoc tensed his fingers around the ropes that tied him to the headboard...and yanked. Did it again. And a third time; even threw his head to the side to get his point across.
Comprehension was dawning on Edward's face, but he spoke slowly. "Are you saying you're finally gonna do this my way...? That you're gonna play my way?"
Havoc could have grinned and nodded, but then he wouldn't be playing Ed's game, so he mustered up a glare that he didn't feel at all and shook his head furiously, trying fruitlessly to spit out the gag.
The shorter blonde, for his part, looked positively delighted, and he sat up on his knees again, running skittish hands up and down underneath his black tank top. "Shit," he groaned, dragging his hands lower and closing his eyes, face flushed with need.
Havoc waited patiently, remembered belatedly that he wasn't supposed to be waiting patiently, and writhed experimentally on the sheets, testing the waters. He even let out a slightly frustrated sort of 'ungh!', to punctuate his point.
Either the taller blonde was a really good actor, or lust had made Edward stupid, because the teen bought the act, and leaned forward, moving his hand to snarl sweaty fingers around the ring of the gag, twisting it enough to hurt. "Enough fucking around," he said definitively, lips brushing against Havoc's teasingly; when the older man tried to lean forward and deepen the kiss, Ed laughed a bit maniacally and sat back on his knees, waggling his finger in a no-nonsense sort of manner. "Nuh-unh, Lieutenant," he reminded him, slipping a hand up the skirt to stroke once, maddeningly, at the soldier's groin.
Havoc struggled, and for real this time. It wasn't fair. Ed really had done his homework. He wasn't sure he could be patient for much longer.
And the fiery blonde was touching his own cock, lips half-parted in both abandon and glee; it was an odd mix to see, something so wanton and innocent all at once, and for some reason it was goddamned hot. Havoc kicked out with his legs—his unbound legs, because Ed never really bothering with tying them down—and got a foot full of automail; he hissed in pain and Ed laughed.
"Say 'please'," he demanded, and went off into a snickering fit when the Second Lieutenant actually tried. "Oh, wait, you can't, can you? Tell you what, be a good boy and service me sufficiently, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let ya come. Alrighty?"
And he could comply, but the truth was, Ed really wanted him to resist, so he glared and shot out a string of obscenities that Hawkeye would have pistol-whipped him for had she heard them, and had they not been muffled by that inhibiting ring gag. Ed's cheeky grin was still on his face...he had actually had the gusto to call someone nearly twice his age a boy.
The shorter blonde surged forward and pressed the hard lines of his stomach into Havoc's face, the tip of his erection poking at the Second Lieutenant's chin like a knife, or the barrel of a gun. He said something too low to hear—might've been an endearment—and patted his cheek softly before stiffening suddenly, grabbing the taller blonde painfully by the hair, and forcing his head down.
It was a bit painful, and Havoc struggled for a bit—it mostly put this hideous crick in his neck, because Ed was a bit oblivious to the fact that he wasn't all that tall—and he choked, too, because Ed had gone in deep. He tried to pull back, out of instinct, and Ed groaned at the sight of it, pushing in deeper. "That's pretty fucking hot," he said, almost cheerily, excepted his voice was darkened with lust. "You're pretty fucking hot, when you're not surrounded by clouds of smoke or grinning like a moron. This's—" He started thrusting in, legs trembling with effort. "This's a good look for you, Lieutenant. We should play this game more often."
"Uff," responded Havoc in kind, and gagged, trying to cough but finding the passage of air solidly blocked. He wanted to relax, to breathe in air through his nose and take passively unto himself all of the boy's latent frustration, but he struggled, aware that he was making it harder on himself, because that's what Ed wanted, and Havoc really was a mellow sort of guy, anyway. He'd play Ed's games, because there really were worse things in the world besides being tied and gagged in a woman's miniskirt giving head to someone half your age. There were. Honestly.
He tried to tear his head to the side, to get his mouth free, but Ed's grip was like iron—half of it was iron, or at least steel—and he had limited options. His neck was starting to hurt a bit, past the point of bearable discomfort, and and he shifted, giving out a honest grunt of pain.
Ed stopped and withdrew slowly; held the taller blonde's face up, looking worried. "Hey, Second Lieutenant! You still with me, here?"
And he was truly concerned, hell, repentant, which wasn't any fun. Havoc didn't like to see anyone pretty—whether they be a guy or a girl—so upset, so he rolled his eyes and grinned as best as he could around the gag.
"Epp...'oss," he assured the shorter blonde, Yep, Boss, and Ed grinned back, clearly relieved. He was always like that, he always felt bad later for losing control, and did his best to make up for it after the fact, but now wasn't after the fact; Edward still had a throbbing hard-on despite the interruption, and Havoc was as horny as high hell, and there really was no reason for anyone to be upset...not yet, anyway. Not unless the notoriously fickle Fullmetal Alchemist decided that now would be a good place to call it a day and pack up for the night. He lifted his leg and heeled Edward in the small of his back for good measure.
The boy jumped as though shot, squinted down at Havoc's face—the taller blonde gave him an insistent, wide-eyed look—and rolled his shoulders, letting out a breath. "Alright. You were good enough. And I'll take this off, too, but you'd better moan for me, you idiot, moan loud and long."
Ed undid the straps of the gag and tossed it somewhere on the floor; Havoc winced and pretended it was from his raw skin, as opposed to the blow to his pride. 'Good enough', right! "Ah, you're too good to me, Boss," he sighed, and took a moment to swallow all that drool—it was rather unbecoming. His throat hurt.
"Damn right I am," Ed agreed, skipping no beats in returning to his role as the aggressor. "You're taking me out for ice cream later, ya know."
Cool air was a blessing against Havoc's bruised mouth. "You're the boss." Ed was reaching over him to rifle through the bedside drawer for the lube, throwing an arm around the older man's neck for support; his hair was everywhere, and Havoc spared a moment to breathe deeply of it. Pretty hair. Soft as a girl's, but he harbored no delusions about it. Ed was a boy, end of story. If he wasn't a boy, then there wouldn't be lubed fingers prodding persistently around his ass, unless he was a girl with some very strange kinks; obviously the kid had found the lube, judging from both the fingers and the scattered contents of the bedside drawer flung nearly halfway across the room.
"You want jimmies on your ice cream, Boss?" Havoc inquired mildly, raising an eyebrow and lifting his legs helpfully. Ed flung them carelessly over his shoulder and looked up at the other blonde, distracted. He mouthed the word 'jimmies' in confusion, and Havoc clarified. "Sprinkles, Boss, sprinkles."
"Oh." Now he looked annoyed. "I dunno, what does it matter?"
"Well, you'd better hope—" Havoc cut off with a groan and fought to relax as Ed added another finger and curled metal fingers around his nuts, soft in contrast to the misgivings he had about intimacy with the automail. "—that I'll be able to afford your sprinkles from the spare change I've got atop the fridge, because you appear to have flung the contents of my wallet all over my bedroom."
"Well, I want these 'jammies' or whatever," Ed decided out of spite, actually sticking out his tongue in distaste, "so if you don't have enough change for ice cream, then I guess you'll have to go without, eh?" He straddled the mellower blonde, pulling lubed fingers out of the other's ass to run them down the shaft of his own cock, slicking it up.
"They're called 'jimmies'," Havoc corrected, "and, uh...you're the boss."
"Oh, shut up," Ed snarled disagreeably, hitching up the miniskirt and thrusting in roughly.
At the first thrust, Havoc clenched his fingers into his palms, feeling his fingernails cut little crescent moons into his palms. It always hurt, at first. Ed was either too hasty or too violent, and he'd lose his confidence if Havoc bothered to enlighten him, so it stretched somewhat strangely; tingled, not quite a burn. For a moment Ed stayed there, frozen and buried up to the base, muscles tensing and relaxing in increments, trying to get used to the feeling. For a moment he looked curiously cognizant, as though his brain was catching up to his body, and he flushed from embarrassment at the sight of his fellow soldier in a skirt with his hands lashed to the headboard of the bed.
It reminded Havoc of when Ed had first asked him to drive him to that military banquet. "Hey, Boss," he said slowly, grinning, "who'd have thought that our little black tie affair from back then would've turned into something like this?"
Ed crimsoned even further. "Stop heckling me," he demanded crossly, starting at last to move back and forth, hips rocking in an almost boatlike rhythm, not at all fast or ungentle. "It doesn't have anything to do with that damned ball. I say it doesn't, so it doesn't."
And ah, it was starting to feel good, little jolts up and down the Second Lieutenant's spine. "Of course," he conceded, nodding solemnly. "You're the boss."
They gave up talking after that, because Ed's impatient side began to show through, and he pounded into the taller blonde with earnest, thrusts that were this short of painful, bordering on the brink that made them feel exquisitely good, and just in time Ed remembered Havoc, and used his automail hand to brace himself against the headboard while his other hand pumped vigorously up and down the older man's cock.
Edward came first—he always did, because he was both The Boss and still A Kid—but Havoc wasn't long in following suit, Ed's ecstatic face probably what pushed him over the edge; he wasn't a very vocal sort of lover, but he didn't have to muster up much courage to hazard a drawn-out moan, because it was what the kid had asked for, after all—Ed grinned at him, shakily, before slowing to a stop and collapsing atop Havoc's broad chest.
It took Ed a few minutes to remember, but eventually he sat up and cut the ropes away with a sigh, and Havoc bared his teeth as the blood came rushing back to his arms with vengeful force. After transmuting his automail back to normal, Ed flopped back down and, with the sticky sort of awkwardness that Havoc remembered possessing as a teen, started to lick away the sheen of sweat that had filmed on his neck.
"Ice cream," he was mumbling, trying to stay awake, "ice cream...with jinnies."
"Jimmies," Havoc corrected for the last time, faintly exasperated. "Christ, Boss, what kinda childhood did you have? I thought every kid knew about jimmies."
"I'm not a kid," Edward hissed drowsily, "I'm the boss."
"Absolutely; you are the complete and utter fucking boss," Havoc agreed whole-heartedly, albeit a bit breathlessly. He took a chance and petted the lethargic blonde on the head, who made a face but bore it with a sigh. "Go to sleep, Boss. We'll get ice cream later. Maybe I'll even find my wallet among this mess."
"Unh-uh," Ed insisted, latching onto his arm. "You're staying here...until I say...we...get up..." His words quickly deteoriated into light snoring, and his fingers went lax.
Havoc grinned, and seriously wanted a cigarette, but knew he'd never hear the end of it later. Instead he remembered how Ed had stumbled up to him, nervous and fidgety in a tux and black tie, and asked him if he'd go to the annual Amestris Founding Fathers ball with him, because everyone he'd known on base had been too busy, and Alphonse hadn't been allowed to go because he wasn't military. And he remembered how Ed had pulled him down to eye-level by his own tie—his cigarette fell out of his mouth in shock—and the boy had grinned ferally(more than a little drunk), and had kissed him hard enough to take his breath away.
He was a funny kid, all right, with enough abusive tendencies for a family of four, but he looked damned cute when he was sleeping. Edward's nose wrinkled unconciously in his dreams.
"You're the boss," said Havoc, grinning as he closed his eyes, "but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna teach you the right way to say 'jimmies'."