Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist > Elysium
Elysium
[Roy/Havoc, future war AU, graphic sex, graphic violence] His days were full of other high-ranking officers telling him he was doing things wrong with this war, telling him too many casualties were...
?Blocked
Written for a dear friend.
Somewhere, at the start of all this, Roy had made a promise to himself to keep their relationship secret. That was almost seven years ago, and under the current circumstances it was growing increasingly more difficult to keep anything under wraps; superior officers were constantly interrogated, Roy spent more time at meetings with Generals that questioned every minute thing that the other Generals did, the only sounds Roy could hear in the night were his own soft breaths moans and those of Jean beneath him. He wondered, sometimes, why no one had turned them in, how no one could have heard them when he was sure his lover's soft whimpers were the loudest sound for miles. Running the tip of his gloved finger down the middle of Jean's stomach drew a moan from the blond's lips, and Roy mused humourlessly that by causing Jean to make such noises with others in such close proximity, he was breaking his own vow of secrecy.
His days were full of other high-ranking officers telling him he was doing things wrong with this war, telling him too many casualties were starting to emerge, telling him another record of death had to be signed by the Fuhrer. At night, he was forever grateful to find Jean safely waiting for him after a day on the battlefield, and found solace in the blond's body. In a sick way, he supposed he was grateful that Havoc would do anything for him; he didn't know if the man loved him, didn't know how long he would let him do this, but Havoc never protested and showed up every night after everyone was dismissed from the mess hall, and Roy was thankful for this. Perhaps, when he was fucking Havoc on the small camp bed he slept on, when he was controlling the pace, when he wanted his subordinate to move and react, he felt he had even the slightest bit of control over the situation.
That night was the first time that Roy noticed that Jean was too big to fit on the tiny camp beds they'd provided for the soldiers to sleep on. Maybe when the war was over Roy would look into that, but for now there was very little he could do. Running his gloved hands down the sides of Jean's bare thighs and poking the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, he leaned forward to tease the head of the blond's cock slowly, curling his tongue possessively and tightening his rough grip on Havoc's ass when he moaned. Roy had to fight the urge to reach up to silence his Lieutenant but found that he was breaking his own vow of silence and secrecy as the bitter taste of precome spread across his tongue and he hummed something pleased.
Roy wondered, just as he arched up and took Jean into his throat with utmost care, if anyone ever saw them. He wondered if they were already running to tell the generals of his indignity, wondered if they got off at the sight and sound of their pleasure. He remembered happier times, when he used to constantly tease Havoc for his luckless attentions to women, and somewhere the gentle amusement had become the softest pang of jealousy. He remembered the night after he'd been announced Fuhrer, with Havoc sitting next to him, and he'd felt drunk enough to lean over and kiss the blond and received nothing but a blank stare in return; to put it in perspective, even Fullmetal had been lost for words. He remembered the first night he'd spent at the battlefield, intent on never leaving the decisions to the state-imposed generals and intent on supporting the underdogs, the lower-ranking soldiers, trying not to let them fall into the same darkness and abandonment he'd felt in Ishvar. He remembered Hawkeye, Breda, Fuery, Falman and Havoc all standing in front of him at the beginning of the conflict, uniforms perfect, attempting confidence in a place that was so reminiscent of death itself, and he watched as gradually their uniforms got dirtier with dirt and blood, watched as they gradually dwindled until no one but Havoc was there to support him.
Fuery had been first to leave, unable to cope with the bloodshed and pressures of the battlefield, and Roy had thought he'd been able to save the young man from the horrors he'd suffered in Ishvar, but by the time he realized that Fuery deteriorated with every piece of bad news he sent it was too late. Breda was next, caught off guard by a stray bullet fired by one of their own, and Roy had simply watched with his fist clenched in trembling rage as Havoc sobbed for his best friend in a way that he'd never managed to do for Hughes. Falman had been caught in the radius of an attack by a reckless State Alchemist who had been approved by the stand-in Fuhrer, and Roy had found himself in such a hysterical rage after stripping him of his rank and sending him back on the next train that it had taken Hawkeye's gentle words to make him realize he was too close to the edge. Now even Hawkeye wasn't there for him anymore, shot three times while protecting him from a group of rebel children while he himself had stayed frozen with gloved hands poised to snap while going over the mantra he'd lived by in Ishvar in his head; as soon as it picks up a weapon, it is nothing but an enemy, not a son or a daughter, or a husband or a wife, or a brother or a sister...
The night after Hawkeye had been sent away still barely clinging to life, Havoc had been waiting for him, had kissed him and consented to be held, and since that night Roy had clung to his one remaining subordinate like a lifeline.
Roy hadn't noticed that he'd slowed until he heard Havoc's questioning, hushed whisper of his name. Offering the blond an apologetic glance, Roy curled gloved fingers around the base of his cock and began to move, ever the frustrating tease with lip and tongue. Havoc cried out and arched, euphoria being pushed too close to the edge, and Roy finished him with a low purr, a long, lascivious lick along the underside of his erection and a delicate swipe of a Pyrotex glove along bare skin. He swallowed what he could and let the last half-mouthful spill down his chin, where it was quickly swiped away with his tongue and then the back of his hand.
His Lieutenant breathed heavily, blue eyes darkened by lust and hair even more ruffled than usual, if Roy supposed that was possible. He probably would have taken the time to think the man was beautiful if heat hadn't been weighing heavily on his mind. Carefully, he slid up Jean's body, slipping fingers deftly under the tight material of his black undershirt as he went and pressed a soft kiss to the blond's parted lips before tugging the shirt over his head and discarding it off the side of the bed. Havoc's dog tags fell against his skin with a soft metallic sound, and Roy noticed that he still had the one he'd had cut for all his subordinates from his days as the Lieutenant's superior on top of the newer credentials of the officer he'd been transferred to after the government had decided they didn't trust Roy enough to give him the privilege of his friends' support.
If you died, they wouldn't know who to contact... but you're mine. All mine.
Murmuring softly, Roy watched contentedly as Havoc shifted under him, rolling onto his stomach, anticipating what the dark-haired man wanted. Knowing the camp bed would not long hold their combined weight, the Fuhrer guided Havoc until only his top half was supported by the camp bed and he was kneeling behind the blond. He fiddled with the buttons on his uniform pants, the buttons being uncooperative under gloved fingers, but figured at least one of the gloves would have to come off soon regardless, so he tugged the right-hand glove off sharply and threw it down with Havoc's shirt.
Nestling his erect cock in the cleft of Havoc's ass made him shiver in anticipation, but far too early as he pressed he leaned over, pressed his chest against the blond's back and brushed chapped lips with smooth fingertips, and he complied, taking Roy's fingers into his mouth and curling his tongue around them, slicking them insistently and knowing that Roy wouldn't bother with the real thing until it was necessary. Roy busied himself with running his free hand over the smooth skin of Havoc's thighs until the anticipation became too much for his lover and he broke away, his warm breath brushing against the older man's moist fingers and making them both shiver as Roy's erection twitched.
Pulling away and settling himself comfortably at Jean's side, Roy kissed the man's shoulder and gently pressed inside, hearing himself moan as Jean's face contorted when he scissored his fingers. Watching the blond's eyes screw shut and his lips move wordlessly with dark eyes, Roy felt his own breathing deepen as Havoc cried out and pushed back as his dark-haired lover's deft fingers brushed against his prostate. Brushing his tongue against Jean's skin and tasting the cold metal bite of the chain the blond kept his dog tags on, Roy bit down roughly on the blond's neck and withdrew his fingers, reaching to fumble under the mattress for the spring under which he'd jammed a tube of medical-issue lubricant he'd stolen from the meds tent. It made him feel selfish, because they were forever running dangerously close to running out of supplies, but when he smeared it over his cock and then used the excess to prepare Havoc further, all guilt he could have felt was postponed as he heard Jean moan from the unexpected touch.
Withdrawing his fingers and smiling an unkind smile, Mustang moved back around and into position, grasping his own cock, gently teasing Havoc's entrance with the head until he came dangerously close to the edge and until Jean cried out, precome leaking down the blond's thigh and muscles quivering in anticipation drawn out far too long. Tired of playing, the dark haired man pushed inside, Jean's soft whimper of his name sending a shiver of pleasure down his body, and he wasted no time quickening the pace. Once again pressing his chest down against Jean's back, he watched the thin silver chain shimmer and glisten in the dim light from the oil lamp near the bed and, transfixed, reached down to take the chain in his teeth, brushing tooth and tongue against Havoc's neck, simultaneously enjoying his moans and the challenge of separating metal from skin.
Jean had already come once that night; he was rocking back, crying out, begging for more as he fucked him because it would drive the older man closer to the edge, give him what he wanted, and Roy felt a painful pang of affection towards the blond and reached down to clasp his left hand over his Lieutenant's, feeling the tightened muscles, the prominent veins against his palm from the tight grip Havoc hand on the thin blanket on the bed. With his right, he reached to grip the blond's hair and direct his head back; Havoc glanced around at him, and Roy registered his brief look of surprise before kissing him, tongue pressing inside his mouth and teeth grazing his chin as he pulled away.
He was so close he could almost taste it; tugging back on the chain around Havoc's neck one final time and then dropping the metal from between his teeth, Mustang leaned down to suck and lick and tease the skin on Havoc's neck and he tasted the bitterness of salty sweat, the sting of gunpowder residue, the heat of arousal. Jean cried out and pressed back against him desperately and tightened around his cock, and Roy knew he couldn't be coming again but as the blond's muscles tightened around his cock, he felt his stomach lurch and he came, hard inside of Jean's body, slowly thrusting until he was totally spent, at which point he pulled out roughly and fell against the blond's back. Havoc remained stiff for a moment; his muscles still tensed against Roy's softly wandering hands, and then finally relaxed, Mustang's semen leaking down his thighs. The older man purred and leaned down, cleaning off Jean's thighs with a few lingering swipes of his tongue.
It was after another five minutes of Roy holding his blond lover in the content light of afterglow that Havoc murmured that he should probably get going. This was the first time Mustang ever found himself thinking about what the blond may or may not have felt for him. Wiping down his thighs one final time with Roy's discarded glove, Havoc reached for his shirt and pulled it on unceremoniously under Roy's dark gaze. He was reaching for his pants when Roy suggested that they stay together.
Looking surprised but gratified, Jean nodded and lay down next to his lover on the floor, holding him closer after he pulled the thin blankets off the bed to cover both their bodies.
Roy should have known something was wrong when Jean didn't show the following night after everyone was dismissed from mess. He spent the night awake, worrying and antagonizing over what could have happened. He could have been sent away on an assignment that took more than a day. He could have been injured. Or he could have been...
Mustang didn't even want to think it.
It was another two days before they found Havoc's body, and Mustang spent the second wondering just how the balance could have been torn in two. He was the commander listed on the Lieutenant's forefront dog tag, so he had to identify the body. The doctors consoled him. He felt beyond consolation. Whoever said not knowing was harder had obviously found their loved one safe and well.
Personal effects. The standard issue pistol he'd used up until his death, his dog tags, and an official notice of death that he had to sign and send to his mother. Three bullets to the chest and then one to the head, from a sniper; it had taken a lot to bring him down.
He was allowed to say goodbye on his own. Havoc looked bizarrely peaceful; too peaceful for sleep, as Roy had found out three days before that the blond was a very restless sleeper. In retrospect, they shouldn't have left him alone; perhaps they suspected the Fuhrer of their country to be more stable than to take up his Second Lieutenant's firearm and use the one remaining bullet to shoot himself in the head. Instant death. Final release. Whatever you wanted to call it.
The doctors ran to inform the Generals, looking shocked, and the low-ranking soldiers were left to clean up the blood.
Elysium. Roy didn't deserve it; he had never believed. He didn't want it, either; death was supposed to be the end of all things, not the start of something endless. Mustang had never been as adept with guns as Hawkeye or Havoc, but he would have assumed that a bullet to the temple was enough to end it all.
Jean's arms wrapped around him, and somehow he didn't feel shocked nor surprised.
Roy... you are here.
Hawkeye smiled.
Nice to see you again, Sir.
Falman saluted.
We didn't expect you so soon, Fuhrer.
Breda chuckled.
Should've known you'd be here. Can't leave us alone.
Fuery adjusted his glasses.
Fuhrer! You made it!
The former Fuhrer stared for a moment, and then relaxed in Jean's arms, surrounded by his friends. The pain evaporated, and for the first time in a long time, Roy found himself to be happy.
END
Somewhere, at the start of all this, Roy had made a promise to himself to keep their relationship secret. That was almost seven years ago, and under the current circumstances it was growing increasingly more difficult to keep anything under wraps; superior officers were constantly interrogated, Roy spent more time at meetings with Generals that questioned every minute thing that the other Generals did, the only sounds Roy could hear in the night were his own soft breaths moans and those of Jean beneath him. He wondered, sometimes, why no one had turned them in, how no one could have heard them when he was sure his lover's soft whimpers were the loudest sound for miles. Running the tip of his gloved finger down the middle of Jean's stomach drew a moan from the blond's lips, and Roy mused humourlessly that by causing Jean to make such noises with others in such close proximity, he was breaking his own vow of secrecy.
His days were full of other high-ranking officers telling him he was doing things wrong with this war, telling him too many casualties were starting to emerge, telling him another record of death had to be signed by the Fuhrer. At night, he was forever grateful to find Jean safely waiting for him after a day on the battlefield, and found solace in the blond's body. In a sick way, he supposed he was grateful that Havoc would do anything for him; he didn't know if the man loved him, didn't know how long he would let him do this, but Havoc never protested and showed up every night after everyone was dismissed from the mess hall, and Roy was thankful for this. Perhaps, when he was fucking Havoc on the small camp bed he slept on, when he was controlling the pace, when he wanted his subordinate to move and react, he felt he had even the slightest bit of control over the situation.
That night was the first time that Roy noticed that Jean was too big to fit on the tiny camp beds they'd provided for the soldiers to sleep on. Maybe when the war was over Roy would look into that, but for now there was very little he could do. Running his gloved hands down the sides of Jean's bare thighs and poking the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, he leaned forward to tease the head of the blond's cock slowly, curling his tongue possessively and tightening his rough grip on Havoc's ass when he moaned. Roy had to fight the urge to reach up to silence his Lieutenant but found that he was breaking his own vow of silence and secrecy as the bitter taste of precome spread across his tongue and he hummed something pleased.
Roy wondered, just as he arched up and took Jean into his throat with utmost care, if anyone ever saw them. He wondered if they were already running to tell the generals of his indignity, wondered if they got off at the sight and sound of their pleasure. He remembered happier times, when he used to constantly tease Havoc for his luckless attentions to women, and somewhere the gentle amusement had become the softest pang of jealousy. He remembered the night after he'd been announced Fuhrer, with Havoc sitting next to him, and he'd felt drunk enough to lean over and kiss the blond and received nothing but a blank stare in return; to put it in perspective, even Fullmetal had been lost for words. He remembered the first night he'd spent at the battlefield, intent on never leaving the decisions to the state-imposed generals and intent on supporting the underdogs, the lower-ranking soldiers, trying not to let them fall into the same darkness and abandonment he'd felt in Ishvar. He remembered Hawkeye, Breda, Fuery, Falman and Havoc all standing in front of him at the beginning of the conflict, uniforms perfect, attempting confidence in a place that was so reminiscent of death itself, and he watched as gradually their uniforms got dirtier with dirt and blood, watched as they gradually dwindled until no one but Havoc was there to support him.
Fuery had been first to leave, unable to cope with the bloodshed and pressures of the battlefield, and Roy had thought he'd been able to save the young man from the horrors he'd suffered in Ishvar, but by the time he realized that Fuery deteriorated with every piece of bad news he sent it was too late. Breda was next, caught off guard by a stray bullet fired by one of their own, and Roy had simply watched with his fist clenched in trembling rage as Havoc sobbed for his best friend in a way that he'd never managed to do for Hughes. Falman had been caught in the radius of an attack by a reckless State Alchemist who had been approved by the stand-in Fuhrer, and Roy had found himself in such a hysterical rage after stripping him of his rank and sending him back on the next train that it had taken Hawkeye's gentle words to make him realize he was too close to the edge. Now even Hawkeye wasn't there for him anymore, shot three times while protecting him from a group of rebel children while he himself had stayed frozen with gloved hands poised to snap while going over the mantra he'd lived by in Ishvar in his head; as soon as it picks up a weapon, it is nothing but an enemy, not a son or a daughter, or a husband or a wife, or a brother or a sister...
The night after Hawkeye had been sent away still barely clinging to life, Havoc had been waiting for him, had kissed him and consented to be held, and since that night Roy had clung to his one remaining subordinate like a lifeline.
Roy hadn't noticed that he'd slowed until he heard Havoc's questioning, hushed whisper of his name. Offering the blond an apologetic glance, Roy curled gloved fingers around the base of his cock and began to move, ever the frustrating tease with lip and tongue. Havoc cried out and arched, euphoria being pushed too close to the edge, and Roy finished him with a low purr, a long, lascivious lick along the underside of his erection and a delicate swipe of a Pyrotex glove along bare skin. He swallowed what he could and let the last half-mouthful spill down his chin, where it was quickly swiped away with his tongue and then the back of his hand.
His Lieutenant breathed heavily, blue eyes darkened by lust and hair even more ruffled than usual, if Roy supposed that was possible. He probably would have taken the time to think the man was beautiful if heat hadn't been weighing heavily on his mind. Carefully, he slid up Jean's body, slipping fingers deftly under the tight material of his black undershirt as he went and pressed a soft kiss to the blond's parted lips before tugging the shirt over his head and discarding it off the side of the bed. Havoc's dog tags fell against his skin with a soft metallic sound, and Roy noticed that he still had the one he'd had cut for all his subordinates from his days as the Lieutenant's superior on top of the newer credentials of the officer he'd been transferred to after the government had decided they didn't trust Roy enough to give him the privilege of his friends' support.
If you died, they wouldn't know who to contact... but you're mine. All mine.
Murmuring softly, Roy watched contentedly as Havoc shifted under him, rolling onto his stomach, anticipating what the dark-haired man wanted. Knowing the camp bed would not long hold their combined weight, the Fuhrer guided Havoc until only his top half was supported by the camp bed and he was kneeling behind the blond. He fiddled with the buttons on his uniform pants, the buttons being uncooperative under gloved fingers, but figured at least one of the gloves would have to come off soon regardless, so he tugged the right-hand glove off sharply and threw it down with Havoc's shirt.
Nestling his erect cock in the cleft of Havoc's ass made him shiver in anticipation, but far too early as he pressed he leaned over, pressed his chest against the blond's back and brushed chapped lips with smooth fingertips, and he complied, taking Roy's fingers into his mouth and curling his tongue around them, slicking them insistently and knowing that Roy wouldn't bother with the real thing until it was necessary. Roy busied himself with running his free hand over the smooth skin of Havoc's thighs until the anticipation became too much for his lover and he broke away, his warm breath brushing against the older man's moist fingers and making them both shiver as Roy's erection twitched.
Pulling away and settling himself comfortably at Jean's side, Roy kissed the man's shoulder and gently pressed inside, hearing himself moan as Jean's face contorted when he scissored his fingers. Watching the blond's eyes screw shut and his lips move wordlessly with dark eyes, Roy felt his own breathing deepen as Havoc cried out and pushed back as his dark-haired lover's deft fingers brushed against his prostate. Brushing his tongue against Jean's skin and tasting the cold metal bite of the chain the blond kept his dog tags on, Roy bit down roughly on the blond's neck and withdrew his fingers, reaching to fumble under the mattress for the spring under which he'd jammed a tube of medical-issue lubricant he'd stolen from the meds tent. It made him feel selfish, because they were forever running dangerously close to running out of supplies, but when he smeared it over his cock and then used the excess to prepare Havoc further, all guilt he could have felt was postponed as he heard Jean moan from the unexpected touch.
Withdrawing his fingers and smiling an unkind smile, Mustang moved back around and into position, grasping his own cock, gently teasing Havoc's entrance with the head until he came dangerously close to the edge and until Jean cried out, precome leaking down the blond's thigh and muscles quivering in anticipation drawn out far too long. Tired of playing, the dark haired man pushed inside, Jean's soft whimper of his name sending a shiver of pleasure down his body, and he wasted no time quickening the pace. Once again pressing his chest down against Jean's back, he watched the thin silver chain shimmer and glisten in the dim light from the oil lamp near the bed and, transfixed, reached down to take the chain in his teeth, brushing tooth and tongue against Havoc's neck, simultaneously enjoying his moans and the challenge of separating metal from skin.
Jean had already come once that night; he was rocking back, crying out, begging for more as he fucked him because it would drive the older man closer to the edge, give him what he wanted, and Roy felt a painful pang of affection towards the blond and reached down to clasp his left hand over his Lieutenant's, feeling the tightened muscles, the prominent veins against his palm from the tight grip Havoc hand on the thin blanket on the bed. With his right, he reached to grip the blond's hair and direct his head back; Havoc glanced around at him, and Roy registered his brief look of surprise before kissing him, tongue pressing inside his mouth and teeth grazing his chin as he pulled away.
He was so close he could almost taste it; tugging back on the chain around Havoc's neck one final time and then dropping the metal from between his teeth, Mustang leaned down to suck and lick and tease the skin on Havoc's neck and he tasted the bitterness of salty sweat, the sting of gunpowder residue, the heat of arousal. Jean cried out and pressed back against him desperately and tightened around his cock, and Roy knew he couldn't be coming again but as the blond's muscles tightened around his cock, he felt his stomach lurch and he came, hard inside of Jean's body, slowly thrusting until he was totally spent, at which point he pulled out roughly and fell against the blond's back. Havoc remained stiff for a moment; his muscles still tensed against Roy's softly wandering hands, and then finally relaxed, Mustang's semen leaking down his thighs. The older man purred and leaned down, cleaning off Jean's thighs with a few lingering swipes of his tongue.
It was after another five minutes of Roy holding his blond lover in the content light of afterglow that Havoc murmured that he should probably get going. This was the first time Mustang ever found himself thinking about what the blond may or may not have felt for him. Wiping down his thighs one final time with Roy's discarded glove, Havoc reached for his shirt and pulled it on unceremoniously under Roy's dark gaze. He was reaching for his pants when Roy suggested that they stay together.
Looking surprised but gratified, Jean nodded and lay down next to his lover on the floor, holding him closer after he pulled the thin blankets off the bed to cover both their bodies.
Roy should have known something was wrong when Jean didn't show the following night after everyone was dismissed from mess. He spent the night awake, worrying and antagonizing over what could have happened. He could have been sent away on an assignment that took more than a day. He could have been injured. Or he could have been...
Mustang didn't even want to think it.
It was another two days before they found Havoc's body, and Mustang spent the second wondering just how the balance could have been torn in two. He was the commander listed on the Lieutenant's forefront dog tag, so he had to identify the body. The doctors consoled him. He felt beyond consolation. Whoever said not knowing was harder had obviously found their loved one safe and well.
Personal effects. The standard issue pistol he'd used up until his death, his dog tags, and an official notice of death that he had to sign and send to his mother. Three bullets to the chest and then one to the head, from a sniper; it had taken a lot to bring him down.
He was allowed to say goodbye on his own. Havoc looked bizarrely peaceful; too peaceful for sleep, as Roy had found out three days before that the blond was a very restless sleeper. In retrospect, they shouldn't have left him alone; perhaps they suspected the Fuhrer of their country to be more stable than to take up his Second Lieutenant's firearm and use the one remaining bullet to shoot himself in the head. Instant death. Final release. Whatever you wanted to call it.
The doctors ran to inform the Generals, looking shocked, and the low-ranking soldiers were left to clean up the blood.
Elysium. Roy didn't deserve it; he had never believed. He didn't want it, either; death was supposed to be the end of all things, not the start of something endless. Mustang had never been as adept with guns as Hawkeye or Havoc, but he would have assumed that a bullet to the temple was enough to end it all.
Jean's arms wrapped around him, and somehow he didn't feel shocked nor surprised.
Roy... you are here.
Hawkeye smiled.
Nice to see you again, Sir.
Falman saluted.
We didn't expect you so soon, Fuhrer.
Breda chuckled.
Should've known you'd be here. Can't leave us alone.
Fuery adjusted his glasses.
Fuhrer! You made it!
The former Fuhrer stared for a moment, and then relaxed in Jean's arms, surrounded by his friends. The pain evaporated, and for the first time in a long time, Roy found himself to be happy.
END
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