Roy has always felt his own immediacy, concentrated and bright and burning, wax candles that will flare and go out. But morality is what he says instead, and carries himself with confidence, all sleek edges and smoky glances.
There is a pause, staring into the irises of a molten crystal sun, unguarded in which Roy fights to steady his breathing, to make sense of the yearning for fragments of a new home, tracing the curve of a curious shudder. He watches an ember spark glisten from him, cool and still as the mountains that nations are built on, diminish whenever the heavy trod of leather boots fades into white noise. He feels silly, and then again inexplicably empty.
Because Edward is the negative space, the prolonged breathes shared between his words— with invitingly open pale lips upon ghosted nothings in the shy hours of morning light. And Mustang is left drifting in interstellar unable to fight the depths of undisclosed desires and diffused brightness of a dying star. Galactic distances, expansive as their hesitant caresses and sliding mercury skin, as they’re no longer superior and subordinate, alchemist and creators, broken and wounded just lost boys and searching souls looking for an anchor.
But because Edward is that fleeting supernova dispersed, ready to have the remnants gathered and enveloped, and all Roy can react is harsh begging, short lived pleas, while all he gets in return is icy, glass penumbra.
But tonight is different, tonight, he is tasting him for real, lips feverish and urgent enveloping his lower one and the slightest of pulling, of sucking, hot steam and slow tongue and open mouthed caresses, hair follicles that squirm and stand on end, plasma on his tongue, warm mouth sliding agonizingly over his own cold-warm mouth, passionate trembling of lips and sweet breaths and quiet moans of metal poison that heat Mustang up just right.
But tonight is different, tonight, he grips sharp hips, fingers caressing his face like sun-warmed feathers, the curve of his nose, the strong line of his jaw, and skin is like golden mercury, trembling as it gives way beneath his fingertips and— and closes his eyes, and in that moment eternity touches transience and both are needed.
Stay— for a little while.
