#forgeevents

It's a story idea I have in my head, where there's someone going around terrorising a random town™(as you do) and leaving photographs behind as little clues. It's supposed to be light-hearted and Roy & Ed make a competition out of who can find them faster and connect the dots sooner. (Maybe Ed challenged him and Roy felt bored enough to use that as an excuse to leave his desk for a change. Not that he needs further incentive to watch Ed in the field 👀). Just a little trip with a co-worker yk,,,

It's just the premise I use to excuse their silly banter and some light action scenes 🙂‍↕️ if I ever write a fic about them it'll probably have something to do with this lol

This went a little further than expected, whoops. Have a lot more thoughts but I should probably stop haha

Well, you're probably wondering how Roy got here.

However, please consider: the whole thing was meticulously, thoroughly thought out.

Roy knows exactly what he is doing, from beginning to end. He calculated all the possible outcomes before the plan was even put into action. It's all his—his idea, his actions, his… Yes, maybe the pollen vial was actually Vanessa's, but he stole it, which means it's not hers anymore. Spring is the best time to get it, when the flowers are in full bloom, and Vanessa had so many, all these different types she uses with the clients. She won't miss this one, and even if she does, it's for a good cause.

And it's just so easy, so simple: all it takes a little (or a large) sprinkle of the pollen on Roy's report—then, he hands it to the Colonel, and as he turns the pages and pages of Roy's most dedicated file ever…

The moment Roy set his eyes on Edward Elric, he knew this was the only possible outcome.

"What the fuck," the Colonel breathes out.

It's so beautiful to see his Colonel like this, with Roy kneeling between his legs, hidden underneath the office's desk. He watches the Colonel hungrily, seated on his fancy chair with a bright flush over his cheeks. Roy's chest fill up with pride at the beautiful reactions he gets, so many emotions flashing on the Colonel's expression. Desperation, guilt, anticipation, indignation, and pure, raw lust.

Then, when Roy takes his cock deep into his throat, those golden eyes shine with wonder.

Roy is good at this, he knows. He's practiced here and there; there's only so much soldiers at the cafeteria and women in a brothel talks a teenager can hear without wanting to put it into practice. And Roy has dreamed of this for so long: the strong scent of musk, automail oil, and this undercurrent of leather and spice and—God, Roy needs this. He swirls his tongue around the head of the Colonel's cock, keeping his eyes firm on him, watching the way his breath catches and comes out as a pained hiss.

"Shit," Colonel Elric curses.

This time, Roy's greatest sin is being overeager; he wants everything, and he wants it now. He hollows his cheeks, bobs his head up and down. The chair creaks—the Colonel's hands cling to the armrests too tightly, and Roy wonders if he could make those metal fingers leave dents on the wood. Moaning at the thought, he doubles his efforts—faster and harder, and he revels in the way the Colonel fits in his mouth, large and thick and Roy can barely wait—

His own cock is so hard it's almost painful. If he looked down he would probably see a little wet patch on the military blue pants, but he can't with his mouth full of Elric, so what he does is grab the Colonel's flesh hand and put it on the back of his head.

He pulls off Roy's cock with a wet pop.

"Pull my hair," he says. "Hard."

It still takes a bit of resistance—Roy can see the hesitance in the Colonel's eyes before it vanishes, being overtaken by that beautiful dazed expression—and the Colonel's fingers tighten on the dark strands, and he pulls hard, so hard it burns. As Roy's mouth falls open with a loud gasp, the Colonel pushes his cock back inside in a swift movement.

Then, Roy's dream comes true.

Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, starts to fuck his mouth in these shallow, stuttered thrusts that barely give Roy any time to breathe. It's so hot, so good, and the burn on his scalp adds perfectly to the lack of oxygen, to that dizziness that relaxes his throat further and lets Roy slip into that state that has him floating and whining.

"What did you do to me," Colonel Elric grunts, "you little shit?"

All the answer he gets is a moan and Roy's eyes blinking open to stare at him through tear-wet lashes.

Apparently, that does it; thick warmth fills Roy's mouth, spills into his throat. He swallows it eagerly, desperately, because that's the first time the Colonel comes in him, and he wants to savor every drop. He wants more, he wants it again, and now, but his cock protests the lack of stimulation and the Colonel pulls his still-hard cock out.

It glistens with Roy's spit and Roy can't help but smirk as his mouth waters again.

"It's spring," he says, and his voice sounds broken. "The window is open, it could just be the effect of the season's pollen—"

"You're full of shit," Colonel Elric snaps. Yet, his hand remains on the back of Roy's head, his cock still dangerously close to Roy's lips. "You're a scheming little asshole, this is your fault, I just know it."

Roy leans back just a bit, just enough to spread his legs further and show the bulge in his pants, the darker patch on the military blue. "My fault or not," he smirks, "I've decided to help you." Slowly, he slides a hand over his thigh, cups his own cock through the fabric and makes a show of shivering and gasping. "I think you should thank me instead of complaining so much, I've been doing good so far."

The gesture has the desired effect—the Colonel stares at him, devours him with his gaze, and Roy shivers with it.

"Stand up," he orders.