(i don't make you wear the uniform, you know, he'd said at the very beginning of it, a sly grin spreading across the line of his mouth like wildfire. you could do me this one small favor β¦
except they both know it isn't so much a favor as it is the bastard knowing that she can never really say no to him, mostly because she doesn't want to, but also because he won't give up on something once he's sunk his teeth into it, once he's gotten something in his head β
at least, this time around, it's as innocuous as getting her into a skirt much, much shorter than anything she might wear usually. she's always been modest, a little bit shy and a little bit awkward from the first day he'd met her, but that isn't going to change the fact that he thinks she's grown into the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
she acquiesces, and he takes her out; there's a favorite place of his where he likes to grab dinner on the way home some evenings, his own booth in a tucked-away corner and he'd chosen this place specifically for what he has in mind for the rest of the evening. which, of course, involves the skirt that rides up her thigh when she slides into her seat in a way that is already making his mouth water with how badly he wants to touch her. but. he has to take his time. he has to be discreet.
which means he orders a strong drink for himself and anything she might like, he always spoils her when they go out like this because he wants to, and because sometimes he thinks she deserves it with how often she has to put up with his absolute bullshit. he sits, and sips, one hand coming to rest high on the inside of one thigh and casually smoothing upward until he has to nudge them apart to get between them, the heat of her already almost scorching and he holds his breath for half of a second, pretending that he isn't letting a sideways glance take in any reaction she might make as he touches her through the thin fabric of her panties.
it's a light touch, teasing as the pads of two fingers rub slow circles over her clit, down a little bit lower to tease at her slit and back up again to pick up that agonizing pace. one that he keeps up until he can feel she's soaked through, and he stops β no matter what sort of noise she might make for him for doing so, for getting her worked up and stopping β but then he's tucking his fingers into the waistband and tugging. down, down, down and off and he somehow manages to get it all done in such a fluid way that no one around them is the wiser. though it might stand to reason that no one dares pay attention to roy mustang unless he wants you to.
he balls her panties up in a fist, tucks them into an inside jacket pocket and absently licks the tips of his fingers as he leans in to speak against the shell of her ear. )
We can go. ( he murmurs, a low rumble, almost a purr. ) Or we can stay. It's up to you.
( sometimes, he wonders if megumi is ever going to realize what a gamble it is to come to his office during the middle of the day. maybe he never will, or maybe he has already and thinks the reward is worth the risk β or maybe the risk itself is the reward, because how damned many times have they stopped to wonder when there would come a knock on the other side of that heavy door and find them both, effectively, caught red-handed?
too many to count, not enough for him to care enough to be more discreet, and he doesn't think the boy minds too much, either way. maybe it's the thrill of it.
roy isn't about to start complaining. not if it keeps this beautiful boy coming back to him, crowding into his personal space like he belongs there, and for all he cares to think about it β¦ he does.
spring in central means the window is open and there's a nice, warm breeze filtering in to rustle the myriad papers he has strewn all over his desk, at least the ones not caught beneath where megumi sits at the very edge in front of him with his thighs spread, pants crumpled up somewhere on the floor at their feet and knees hooked over roy's shoulders as he takes him into the heat of his mouth. over, and over, and over again until he can taste the betrayal of his arousal on the back of his tongue, the taste of salt and something inherently megumi as he leaks at the tip, and when he pulls off, he does so with the sort of hum he knows the other will feel down to the base of his spine.
one hand is braced on the flat of his stomach while the other curls possessively around a slender, pale thigh, and he mouths over the length of him until he can turn his head to leave a line of slick kisses almost all the way to the bend of his knee. he looks up then, dark eyes glittering with mischief, arousal and the sort of fondness that no one else can ever say they've seen on him.
he smiles, absently bringing the hand that had been on his stomach down to rub teasingly at the spot just behind his balls. )
If you smudge any of my paperwork, you're gonna be the one to redo it all. ( bastard.
this is absolutely, one hundred percent your fault. )
[ Meticulous boy he is, he knows fully well that it's a gamble. Yet, at times when they cross each other in the hallway or during a meeting, he always feels that tinge of need, a gradual build up in the pit of his stomach that he knows isn't a usual feeling for anyone. Megumi is young, after all. Even after passing his state alchemist exam, that fact hasn't changed. If anything, it's the study sessions he's had with his benefactor and teacher that led them toward this circumstance tonight; that day he lost his first time to the man inside his study, and the numerous times he would succumb to the older man's annoying charms and the devotion he has to him. This annoying person ... made him this way, essentially. He isn't like this for anyone else.
It is a gamble, and a subordinate could walk in at any time for some reason or another, yet he always finds the risk worth taking at the end of it all, even if he knows it's such a stupid decision to come in. Roy does away with his anxieties right away, and too easily, in fact. He's doing that right now. Megumi hardly has the mind to think about all those stressful possibilities of being caught, or all the usual worries he has in his daily life, because he's got a head between his thighs and is at the mercy of that expert mouth. ]
Then ... organise your paperwork for once ... [ To satisfy his own fastidious nature, he attempts to lift his hips, pushing away the documents he was sitting on. In any other situation, he would take over and start organising those documents for that man, but right now? He doesn't have half a mind for any of that. Roy swallows around his cock, gliding against him smoothly, and there's that teasing contact between his legs, so dangerously close to his entrance. It makes him throw his head back, hands sliding against the papers and only messing them up further. His legs writhe against Roy's back, toes curling and creasing his uniform, and he raises his hips greedily, wanting more of that mouth. ]
Mr.Mustang ... I'm ... close. [ So quickly, as always. ]
( megumi had drawn him in from the very beginning, whether he'd been willing to admit it or not; he's sharp as a tack, quick-witted, takes to things with the sort of enthusiasm and determination that he can't say he's seen in any of his other subordinates and it makes him want to β
it makes him want to keep him, hoard him, because the world is going to ruin him. war is going to ruin him and there's such a purity in him that he doesn't want to see tarnished, but he's letting everything he needs to keep to himself filter up to the surface too easily, isn't he? hm.
roy bites at the inside of his thigh for the backtalk, covering a bruise he'd left before healed enough now that it needs to be covered again, a hum sitting in the back of his throat that emerges as something thoughtful as he smoothes the sting of his teeth with a sweep of his tongue. hot and slick, and he turns that attention to the base of his cock as his fingers keep up their teasing massage while those of his free hand reach into a drawer to retrieve the lubricant he keeps on hand for moments just like this.
he doesn't give a shit about his paperwork.
he slicks two fingers, presses the tips of both against his entrance as he returns the attention of his mouth to where it belongs, a line of filthy, open-mouthed kisses pressed to hard, aching flesh from the base of his cock up to the head until he can take him into his mouth again. the warmth of his mouth and the inward press of his fingers are a double assault and he knows it, but if he's already close β¦
he pulls off of him for the smallest second, licking at the slit, chancing a glance upward. )
β¦ Already? ( he muses, and then he sucks at the head briefly, just to bring him closer to the edge. )
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momijizukamori
she ( ruins my composure );
except they both know it isn't so much a favor as it is the bastard knowing that she can never really say no to him, mostly because she doesn't want to, but also because he won't give up on something once he's sunk his teeth into it, once he's gotten something in his head β
at least, this time around, it's as innocuous as getting her into a skirt much, much shorter than anything she might wear usually. she's always been modest, a little bit shy and a little bit awkward from the first day he'd met her, but that isn't going to change the fact that he thinks she's grown into the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
she acquiesces, and he takes her out; there's a favorite place of his where he likes to grab dinner on the way home some evenings, his own booth in a tucked-away corner and he'd chosen this place specifically for what he has in mind for the rest of the evening. which, of course, involves the skirt that rides up her thigh when she slides into her seat in a way that is already making his mouth water with how badly he wants to touch her. but. he has to take his time. he has to be discreet.
which means he orders a strong drink for himself and anything she might like, he always spoils her when they go out like this because he wants to, and because sometimes he thinks she deserves it with how often she has to put up with his absolute bullshit. he sits, and sips, one hand coming to rest high on the inside of one thigh and casually smoothing upward until he has to nudge them apart to get between them, the heat of her already almost scorching and he holds his breath for half of a second, pretending that he isn't letting a sideways glance take in any reaction she might make as he touches her through the thin fabric of her panties.
it's a light touch, teasing as the pads of two fingers rub slow circles over her clit, down a little bit lower to tease at her slit and back up again to pick up that agonizing pace. one that he keeps up until he can feel she's soaked through, and he stops β no matter what sort of noise she might make for him for doing so, for getting her worked up and stopping β but then he's tucking his fingers into the waistband and tugging. down, down, down and off and he somehow manages to get it all done in such a fluid way that no one around them is the wiser. though it might stand to reason that no one dares pay attention to roy mustang unless he wants you to.
he balls her panties up in a fist, tucks them into an inside jacket pocket and absently licks the tips of his fingers as he leans in to speak against the shell of her ear. )
We can go. ( he murmurs, a low rumble, almost a purr. ) Or we can stay. It's up to you.
he ( makes me weak for everything he has );
too many to count, not enough for him to care enough to be more discreet, and he doesn't think the boy minds too much, either way. maybe it's the thrill of it.
roy isn't about to start complaining. not if it keeps this beautiful boy coming back to him, crowding into his personal space like he belongs there, and for all he cares to think about it β¦ he does.
spring in central means the window is open and there's a nice, warm breeze filtering in to rustle the myriad papers he has strewn all over his desk, at least the ones not caught beneath where megumi sits at the very edge in front of him with his thighs spread, pants crumpled up somewhere on the floor at their feet and knees hooked over roy's shoulders as he takes him into the heat of his mouth. over, and over, and over again until he can taste the betrayal of his arousal on the back of his tongue, the taste of salt and something inherently megumi as he leaks at the tip, and when he pulls off, he does so with the sort of hum he knows the other will feel down to the base of his spine.
one hand is braced on the flat of his stomach while the other curls possessively around a slender, pale thigh, and he mouths over the length of him until he can turn his head to leave a line of slick kisses almost all the way to the bend of his knee. he looks up then, dark eyes glittering with mischief, arousal and the sort of fondness that no one else can ever say they've seen on him.
he smiles, absently bringing the hand that had been on his stomach down to rub teasingly at the spot just behind his balls. )
If you smudge any of my paperwork, you're gonna be the one to redo it all. ( bastard.
this is absolutely, one hundred percent your fault. )
no subject
It is a gamble, and a subordinate could walk in at any time for some reason or another, yet he always finds the risk worth taking at the end of it all, even if he knows it's such a stupid decision to come in. Roy does away with his anxieties right away, and too easily, in fact. He's doing that right now. Megumi hardly has the mind to think about all those stressful possibilities of being caught, or all the usual worries he has in his daily life, because he's got a head between his thighs and is at the mercy of that expert mouth. ]
Then ... organise your paperwork for once ... [ To satisfy his own fastidious nature, he attempts to lift his hips, pushing away the documents he was sitting on. In any other situation, he would take over and start organising those documents for that man, but right now? He doesn't have half a mind for any of that. Roy swallows around his cock, gliding against him smoothly, and there's that teasing contact between his legs, so dangerously close to his entrance. It makes him throw his head back, hands sliding against the papers and only messing them up further. His legs writhe against Roy's back, toes curling and creasing his uniform, and he raises his hips greedily, wanting more of that mouth. ]
Mr.Mustang ... I'm ... close. [ So quickly, as always. ]
no subject
it makes him want to keep him, hoard him, because the world is going to ruin him. war is going to ruin him and there's such a purity in him that he doesn't want to see tarnished, but he's letting everything he needs to keep to himself filter up to the surface too easily, isn't he? hm.
roy bites at the inside of his thigh for the backtalk, covering a bruise he'd left before healed enough now that it needs to be covered again, a hum sitting in the back of his throat that emerges as something thoughtful as he smoothes the sting of his teeth with a sweep of his tongue. hot and slick, and he turns that attention to the base of his cock as his fingers keep up their teasing massage while those of his free hand reach into a drawer to retrieve the lubricant he keeps on hand for moments just like this.
he doesn't give a shit about his paperwork.
he slicks two fingers, presses the tips of both against his entrance as he returns the attention of his mouth to where it belongs, a line of filthy, open-mouthed kisses pressed to hard, aching flesh from the base of his cock up to the head until he can take him into his mouth again. the warmth of his mouth and the inward press of his fingers are a double assault and he knows it, but if he's already close β¦
he pulls off of him for the smallest second, licking at the slit, chancing a glance upward. )
β¦ Already? ( he muses, and then he sucks at the head briefly, just to bring him closer to the edge. )