Author's Note: This is a chronological series of one-shots. Each new "sequel" will be updated as a new chapter to avoid cluttering up the "My Authors" , sweet and just for fun. No major plot involved.

Warning: Language. Mentions of adult behaviour.


Roy Mustang sighed, his lips quirking into a smile as he strolled along the street. His jacket was slung over his shoulder and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, letting the warm breeze caress his skin. Car exhaust and jasmine mixed together in an intoxicating perfume, heady and free: the scent of Central's summer.

Times like this were rare. Hell, they had practically been unheard of these past few years. He could not remember when he had last stopped the heartbeat of his life and simply enjoyed each moment. For months, events had been rushing at him: destiny's bullets all aiming true. They had gathered momentum, building into a desperate pinnacle of Bradley's making. Then, in the time it took for dusk to melt inevitably into dawn, it was over.

Relief was a dizzy high, escalated further by Ed's success. It had already been two months since both the Elric brothers had walked into the office, flesh and blood and as bold as ever. Al's body was even the correct age, as if it had continued to grow in all that time he had been locked inside his armour. Alphonse was calm, centred and strong, but it was nothing in comparison to Ed.

It was as if the molten steel of his potential had finally formed and solidified into something that was – Roy hesitated, wordless in his own thoughts – simply stunning. There was no other way to describe Ed now. He dazzled people with his alchemy and left them breathless with his determination. Roy had never known anyone so strong.

He would probably never find out what Ed had done to snatch Al back from the tenacious grasp of the gate, but there was a sense now, when he looked at him, of incredible confidence tempered with a trace of humility. It was as though the young man had gambled everything and, despite all the odds being against him, still won.

It was hard to believe that there had ever been any doubt that Ed would pull it off, but back then, in the midst of it all…

Roy shook his head, chasing the thoughts away in one quick motion. The lazy buzz of whisky in his blood was just enough to make him thoughtful and bring his focus closer to the present. One glass and suddenly it was hard to see anything beyond this time, this second, this breath. One drink and suddenly he remembered everything he had to be grateful for.: his freedom, his friends, his life… . It could have been so very different.

He walked on, content in his own reverie. Bars made pockets of noise as lamplight spilt from their windows to splash across the sidewalk. Tobacco smoke curled from open doorways, beckoning with edgy fragrance. It seemed as if the world was celebrating. It was like everyone had chosen this one night to appreciate what they had and forget all that they had lost. Euphoria, strange and heady, hummed in the air. There was no real reason for it, no single good deed to celebrate, but sometimes it seemed that the city itself was letting its hair down.

Crossing the road he walked in the cooler shadows, rolling his shoulders as the peace settled around him. This feeling, this lack of tension, was like great sex, but without the awkward morning after. It was as if his body had experience some incredible release, and now he could revel in bliss.

The thought of sex made his mind wander. It had been a while since he had caught any fun between the sheets. Perhaps he should look in on Angela: blonde, statuesque and incredibly willing to immerse herself in a really good time; or maybe Guye, perfect for a night of pleasure without any expectations when dawn broke over the horizon… .

Movement on the other side of the street made him hesitate. The light was poor, but there was no hiding the young couple half-concealed in the mouth of the alley directly opposite his position. If either of them looked up they would notice him in an instant, but they were too engrossed in each other to notice the world around them.

A dark haired young man, no older than twenty, had his paramour pressed against the wall. One hand cupped his lover's chin, holding them close for a deep kiss while the other gripped their hip tight.

Not womanly hips, Roy realised with a smile. The shorter of the two was lean and masculine, a body used to working and – from the look of things – playing hard. Their face was obscured by a fall of pale hair turned silver by the moonlight. Dark clothes blended with the night, and the skin of their left arm and shoulder glowed. sheathing hard, firm muscles.

The kiss broke, and Roy heard the tight, hoarse groan of the man against the wall. It ran through him like quicksilver, spreading warmth along every nerve. He knew he should move. For god's sake, he was not so desperate that he would get his kicks from watching other people. Yet something held him transfixed, fascinated and increasingly aroused.

It was an appealing image, dark hair and light, like night and day, but it was the movements of the one with his back pressed against the brickwork that caught and held his attention. Every twitch and grind was passionately artless. It should have been naïve and clumsy but, to Roy, it spoke of something feral and wild, something he itched to tame.

How long had it been since he had taken a lover like that to his bed? One who did not view sex as a game of guile, but simply enjoyed it for the sheer pleasure it could offer. With all of his partners there was a certain reservation, as if they were holding themselves back. Yet just across the street there was someone offering themselves up on a plate: head tipped back and hair shimmying around broad shoulders as the dark one nipped at his lover's exposed throat, tracing his tongue over the flicker of his pulse.

Roy swallowed, half-shocked at the growing bulge in his own trousers. God, it really had been too long. This should not be turning him on so much. He couldn't even see their faces, but each caress was an age-old dance. They were both still clothed, both almost decent and respectable, yet they may as well have been fucking each other against the alley wall.

Hints of growls and soft, needy sounds, half caught behind clenched teeth, kept teasing Roy's ears. The unmistakable rasp of a fly echoed through the air, and Roy felt himself twitch in needy response as the blonde ground himself up into his companion's palm, hips jerking at the caress. They were getting painfully close to the point of no return. Every breath was taut and audible, painfully recognisable to anyone familiar with the games of the bedroom.

As if reading his mind the dark-haired one pulled back, murmuring something that Roy could not quite make out. He held his hand out, beckoning. After a moment's panting pause his lover reached out, the silver of his automail glinting in the moonlight.

Icy surprise darted down Roy's spine, followed by a sharper, hotter surge of fire that pooled in his stomach and between his legs. He barely had the sense to pull himself further back into the shadows as Ed was tugged out of the alley. His hair changed in the lamplight, not silver after all, but gold. It poured wealth down his back and tickled cheeks flushed with want. His lips were swollen with kisses and Roy knew without looking that his eyes would be bronzed with need.

Neither of them looked up or paid attention to anything but each other as they walked away, shoulder-to-shoulder and almost staggering, drunk with lust. They'd be going back to a bed somewhere. There was no way they could have teased each other so close and not be heading off to seek a place to finish what they started.

Roy leaned back against the wall, his breath escaping him in a tight moan as he ground his head against the brickwork. It was one thing to watch two strangers, but now – now he wasn't so much embarrassed as impossibly horny. His mind was rich with images of Ed arched and groaning and earnest in his desire. What would it feel like to have that? To have aureate hair spread across his pillows and that young, lithe body arched up into his: steel and skin, hard and soft and wild?

Painfully he shifted his weight, forcing himself to start walking home to his empty bed. There would be no Angela and no Guye. Not tonight. There was just Ed filling his thoughts from one edge to the other, inescapable and beguiling.

Ed was untouchable. Roy could never skim his palms over honey skin and silvered steel. He could never taste those kisses or lose himself in their shared passion. Worst of all, he had a sinking feeling that no one else could even aspire to be as intense a lover. In a handful of minutes his body had attuned itself to Ed, had witnessed too much and now would settle for nothing less.

Roy swore, kicking at a pebble and sending it skittering on ahead of him. He always wanted what he could not have. There was no going back. There was no way of unseeing what he had witnessed and, even though he was tormented by a want that he could not truly appease, Roy knew he would never willingly give up that brief, perfect glimpse of Ed's sexuality.

In the end, a glimpse was all he could ever have.