Little Games:

 

The man-in-blue walks down the street - his heavy boots making heavier sounds upon the cobbled streets. White gloved hands, sink within pockets to feel for something. Full lips quirking into a smirk as fingers clasp the round steel but smooth object.

 

Just a reminder, an inner voice says. Of who you really are and who you ought to be.

 

“Buy some fresh flowers,” a voice croaks from the shadows. “Won’t you buy my flowers?”

 

He stops and cocks his head to the side, lips now pursed in a look of contemplation.

 

Perhaps he will like them, he thinks with a smile – the smirk now nothing but a shadow.

 

He is not a romantic man by nature. Never was and never will be. Romance was something the young read in old books. The chemistry and science of love was nothing more than a jumbled mesh of human emotions. In short, romance was for the weak.

 

“But I’m sure he will like them,” he says out loud as he steps up to pay for it.

 

 

__

 

 

The boy-in-red walks down the street – all alone and full of thought. His brows are drawn together in a perpetual frown it seems. His hands are within his pockets; fingers caressing the smooth round steel object within it like a newborn babe.

 

Just a reminder, a voice says. Of who you are and who you ought to be.

 

He is nervous, but you will never know it. Or perhaps you will, if you come just a little bit closer. See the way his lips are tightened? See the way the sweat breaks out on his brow? The heat – you might say. But we know better, don’t we? He swallows tightly and eyes his environs. His fingers caress the object in his pocket a bit faster and then he begins to tap his foot.

 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 

Soft. Rhythmic – but no doubt nervously.

 

He will not come, he thinks with a squint as he looks down the street. This is such a stupid idea. What had I been thinking?

 

He licks his lips – they feel dry and chapped like a desert on a hot summer’s day. He feels incredibly foolish and his cheeks grow even hotter. The red upon him seems to weigh a ton now. He must take it off or he is sure he will burn.

 

He sits on the bench and stares at the cobbled streets below his feet. He will wait for one more hour and then…

 

 

__

 

 

…he sneezes.

 

He eyes the flowers in his hand and makes a face. They are already withering and dying.

 

What a waste.

 

He eyes his surroundings with a raised brow and then allows his lips to curve into a smile as he sees the one thing he’s been looking for.

 

He lightens his steps. They do not sound so heavy on the streets now.

 

With a smirk on his lips, he stops behind the golden glow below him and then leans forward to wrap his arms around the strong chest.

 

He relishes in the surprised yelp and begins to nuzzle the warm skin gently.

 

Not in public! The golden one cries out in a harsh whisper. People can see us!

 

“I bought you flowers,” the man-in-blue croons thickly into his ear. “Do you like them?”

 

“They are dead, you moron,” the boy replies, but we see that his cheeks are still flushed. He looks…embarrassed…but yet…happy? Oh, what a contradiction.

 

“But my heart is still alive for you,” the man continues to whisper as he dares to taste the golden boy’s skin. “Mmm…alive for you…”

 

The boy-once-in-red lowers his head and tries to control himself. He doesn’t know if he wants to swat the persistent man away or to throw him upon the bench and to have his way with him. He settles for the former – with great reluctance.

 

“Touché,” the man-in-blue says with a grin as he settles beside his partner on the bench.

 

“You are so cheesy. It’s amazing,” the boy mumbles as he takes the flowers and eyes them warily. He wonders if he can make them look remotely decent again. He can spot a few things that are supposed to be roses.

 

“But you love me being cheesy,” the man cajoles softly, his lips already finding their way upon the strong neck to kiss it softly.

 

The boy pushes him away again with a light snort. His breathing is becoming a bit harsher now, but one must exercise restraint in such a situation.

 

“We.Are.In.Public. Keep your hands to your damn self!”

 

“You almost look like a girl, so we can pass off for lovers here,” the man says with a wicked smirk. He bites gently. The boy cries out again although one can hear the low moan of pleasure that accompanies it.

 

“I am not a girl. Go find Lt. Hawkeye…”

 

“She doesn’t like me.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“She can’t stand me.”

 

“Ooh…liar…”

 

“She…will…kill…me…”

 

“I’ll kill you too…mmm…”

 

“With your love?”

 

“You are such an idiot…aaah…don’t…”

 

“Don’t what?”

 

“Down…there…don’t…not here…not now…”

 

“But you are hot and tasty…”

 

“I’ll shove these flowers down your…aaah!”

 

He throws his head back and arches into the hand upon him. His gloved hand sinks into the dark hair and tugs a bit roughly, eyes squeezed shut as he allows the man-in-blue to speak to him.

 

And just when he thinks that the conversation has reached its boiling point, the speaker leaves him with a heavy sigh.

 

“Wha…? Why?!”

 

He’s flustered, hot, bothered and…well…upset!

 

The man-in-blue smirks wickedly and snaps his fingers with a wink. “But we are in public, Ed. Surely you don’t expect me to do that to you out here.”

 

“But…”

 

The man leans closer again. This time he pins widened golden depths with a gaze just as intense - effectively holding them prisoner. A glove-clad finger traces the outline of full-parted lips as if trying to memorize each feature.

 

“Say the words to me, Edward Elric and I’ll take you to places you’ve only dreamed of.”

 

The boy turns a bright red and turns his face away. He does his best to ignore the scent and pure heat that radiates off his tormentor’s body. He tries to move, but he is trapped between the older man’s sinewy length and the hard bench below.

 

“I…I can’t…” he whispers softly almost pleading. “I can’t say it.”

 

“It’s just three simple words, Edward,” the man says with an exaggerated pained expression on his features. “Everyone says it.”

 

The boy mumbles something.

 

“Come again, Ed?”

 

“I said, ‘Everyone does not say it!’ You only make me say it!”

 

The man sighs and pulls away gently. “I did my best. I honestly did. But it seems as if you are going to have to do this all on your own now.”

 

He rises to his feet and stretches aching muscles. He takes a step forward but stops as he feels the strong tug on his uniform.

 

He raises a brow and eyes the lowered head beside him. The boy is literally trembling and he does not need to see that his dear Ed is shaking with humiliation and anger.

 

Another set of mumbled words.

 

“What did you say, Ed?”

 

And this time through grit teeth, he hears the tight plea. “Fuck.Me.Please.”

 

The man-in-blue gives a hearty laugh and nods in approval. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

The boy finally lifts his head and gives an exasperated sigh. “At least this scenario is better than the last time…”

 

The man feigns ignorance. “What happened the last time again?”

 

Edward Elric flushes and turns his face away, refusing to say anything.

 

The man suddenly remembers. “Oh! I made you dress up as a French maid, correct?”

 

He dies a million deaths and wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. But he still cannot stop the small smile that comes to his face as he listens to his lover ramble on and on.

 

These are just the little games they play after all and he is only a willing participant.

 

“How about I dress you up as Envy next time?” the man suggests. “You’d look good in a short skirt and a mini tank top…”

 

“Roy…” the boy growls softly as he claps his hands together. “One more cross dressing idea from you and I swear you will die tonight!!!”

 

“But you would look…”

 

Ah, and yet another explosion to solidify his statements. Of course we should have gotten used to this by now. But come, we will leave this scene in the hopes that we can catch them both again in yet another risqué scenario perhaps?

 

We can only hope.

 

 

~Owari~