Genderswitch fic, now with porn!
Apr. 6th, 2006 06:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mikkenekoYou know, this may be more het porn than I've written in.... ever. O_o;; Now if only I knew how to write yuri, there could be a sequel.
Title: Boys and Girls (still looking for a more clever title)
Pairing: Roy/Ed
Warnings: het, crack, genderswitch, language, silly
Rating: NC-17
Colonel Mustang was bored. So bored, in fact, that sorting the office supplies in order of quantity, expense, and frequency used had become the major highlight of the day. The advantage of this practice rather than the more usual pastimes of window washing, chair-tilting, or plain old daydream-staring was that it necessitated being out in the office with the rest of the officers, where Hawkeye's disapproval could be spread equally, rather than back in the office withering under that eagle glare alone.
So it could definitely be said that the abrupt and unscheduled return of the Fullmetal Alchemist, back from a supposedly risk-free mission to locate and detain a missing State Alchemist, certainly sped up the pace of things.
Fullmetal burst through the doors hard enough to tear them off their hinges, made a bee-line for where Mustang sat at Falman's desk, in a wild-eyed state of fury and panic that none of those there gathered had ever been privileged (or unfortunate) enough to witness.
"LOOK WHAT THAT BASTARD DID TO ME," the teenager shrieked, very nearly right in the Colonel's ear. It took several moments of wincing and head-shaking to restore normal hearing function, but somehow Mustang doubted that the missed dialogue had been anything important. It never was, when the younger alchemist was in this mood.
"Slow down a moment, Fullmetal," Mustang said when Fullmetal stopped for breath. "First of all, where is Al?" If there was anyone who could calm down Fullmetal in a raging fury, it was a seven-foot suit of alchemically-animated armor, and it was a job that Mustang would be only too glad to delegate.
"Dealing with the paperwork. Don't change the subject," Fullmetal snarled. Mustang's eyebrows went up; it was rare that Fullmetal could not be distracted onto the topic of Al whose condition was, after all, the primary driving force in their quest for the Stone.
"Second of all, who exactly is that bastard, and here I'm assuming you are not in fact referring to me, and what exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"
"Look at this!" Fullmetal shouted, and in a flurry of violent movements, yanked off the trademark red coat and tossed it away. The startlement of the onlookers was only matched and increased when the black shirt followed the coat. "And you tell me!"
There was a moment of silence as everyone in the office eyed Fullmetal's smooth, streamlined, and muscle-packed chest and abdomen.
"Are we supposed to be missing something here?" Breda asked Havoc.
"Looks about the same to me," Havoc observed.
"Oh ha, ha, very funny, DON'T YOU ALL HAVE SOMETHING BETTER TO DO THAN SIT AND STARE?" Fullmetal snarled at them, whipping around in a nut fury.
Looking at the gold eyes shooting flames and forked tongue slithering around frothing lips, the cream of Amestris's military force suddenly decided that they did, in fact, have better things to be doing. Only Havoc held firm, shooting back a "Well, chief, if you don't like people staring, why'd you take off your shirt?"
"Would you rather I took off my PANTS to demonstrate?"
Hawkeye coughed politely, interjecting a well-needed dose of military discipline back into the room. "Fullmetal, I really must insist that you remain in uniform. Or at least," and amber eyes glanced coolly from the black leather pants to the red coat and shirt now strewn messily across the floor, "no further out of uniform."
"Really, First Lieutenant, must you be such a spoilsport?" Mustang drawled softly, which had the unfortunate effect of drawing Fullmetal's attention back around front.
"YOU!" A metal hand stabbed across the desk, nearly poking Mustang in the eye, as Fullmetal slammed his other palm onto Falman's blotter. "You KNEW this would happen, didn't you? You knew when you sent me out after that perverted freak, that he could do this to me!"
"And what, exactly, did I know he could do to you?" Mustang asked in exasperation. Past experience indicated that if not interrupted, Fullmetal could rant on for hours.
"He transmuted me! The bastard! He got the drop on me! One moment I'm about to kick his pasty ass into next week, and the next moment I'm a guh..." Fullmetal turned beet red, and stuttered for a moment. "A g-guh..."
"A gigalo?" Breda offered helpfully. This help was rewarded by a look like a swift dagger of poison to the gut.
"He turned me into a GUY!"
Silence reigned.
For the first time since Fullmetal had entered the room, Mustang set down the pen and leaned forward intently. "Fullmetal... did you get hit on the head?" It was an honest concern. Last time Fullmetal had ended up in the hospital with a concussion, Al had to answer to the name "George" for three days.
"NO, I did not get hit in the head! I mean yes! Yes I got a few knocks on the head as is usual on these crap missions you send me on, you shit Colonel, but that has nothing to do with it! I'm telling you, he turned me into a GUY! A male! Look at this! My breasts are GONE!" Fullmetal punctuated this statement with a ringing slap to one distinctly flat pectoral, which seemed to echo hollowly in the fascinated office.
"And there's this... THING between my legs!" Now Fullmetal was actually blushing, good god, and when was the last time that had happened? The tirade had gone from outraged and righteous to a distinctly complaining tone. "And it's a funny shape and it keeps bumping into things and it chafes."
Havoc's cigarette dropped out of her open mouth. Fury choked and had to wheeze for breath while Breda pounded on her back. Hawkeye, as the only male -- well, previously the only male -- in the room, was beginning to look genuinely alarmed and not a little bit sympathetic.
And as for Mustang -- well, it took several minutes for Mustang to regain her composure, with her erstwhile subordinate leaning over the desk towards her, glaring with all his might and rubbing awkwardly at the front of his (suddenly much tighter) leather pants. "I... wasn't aware that was even possible, with current alchemy techniques," she finally managed, in a pale imitation of her usual urbane tone.
"Don't tell ME that!" Fullmetal blustered. "Tell HIM that!"
"Well. This is an unexpected development." Mustang sat back in her chair, tenting her fingers in front of her. Behind her calm face, her mind was racing. Clearly the Vital Force Alchemist was not such a doddering washup as his file had suggested, if he was capable of pulling off a transformation of this caliber without causing any harm to his subject. Equally clearly, they would have to track down Vital Forces if they wanted to be able to reverse the transformation, and once he was in custody, there were a number of ways he might be used to apply leverage on the Alchemical College.
In the meantime, however...
"This sucks," Fullmetal announced, hunching over on himself slightly. "My balance is all thrown off and my weight's all wrong. I keep thinking I'm going to fall over. And this... this... thing gets in the way every time I try to move!"
"Aw, it's not so bad, Chief," Havoc said, attempting for a comforting tone. "I mean, it's not like you make an ugly guy or anything, am I right?" She looked over at her comrades for support.
"Right, right!" Fury chimed in, on cue. "Actually, you make a really handsome boy, you know. You should look in a mirror some time."
"Yeah, I'd totally do you," Breda agreed, "if you weren't, you know, you."
"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"
"You'd think the hair really wouldn't work," Fury mused, running her hand through her own short brown fuzz, "being long and all, but it really does, actually. It sort of frames your neck and shoulders, brings out the muscles..."
"Look on the bright side," Hawkeye advised him kindly. "Think of how much easier it will be to fire a rifle now, without breasts to get in the way."
Fullmetal was starting to turn slightly purple, now, which definitely clashed with his coloring, and he was turning between one and another of Mustang's officers as if unsure which direction he would explode in. Mustang decided it was definitely time to intervene.
"As fascinating as all these various points of discussion are -- " she interrupted smoothly, shooting a slightly apologetic look at Hawkeye and a slightly venomous one at Havoc, " -- there really are more important issues at hand." She stood, and beckoned to Fullmetal as she turned towards the door of her office. "This is a completely unexpected development in alchemy, and Fullmetal, I'd like a report on what you remember of the transmutation process immediately. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can restore your femininity."
She guided Fullmetal into her office, and shut the door firmly behind them, cutting off the snickers and fascinated glances of the officers. She could almost see Fullmetal's shoulders sag in relief as they left the crowd behind them, and placed one gloved hand on Fullmetal's shoulder in a gesture of support. Fullmetal glared at her half-heartedly, but didn't immediately shrug her away like normally, so she smirked as she let her hand drop and made her way to her large desk at the end of the office. "Have a seat, Fullmetal."
He did, and Mustang observed his uncomfortable shifting and fidgeting for a moment before she suggested mildly, "Try sitting with your knees apart."
"I knew that!" He sat up quickly and rearranged his legs; Mustang allowed herself one long moment of indulgence, tracing her eyes over the firm shape outlined under all that -- leather really concealed nothing.
She shook herself and glanced away, only to look up into Ed's accusing gaze. "You were staring," he accused.
Mustang cleared her throat. "Well, it is the topic of discussion," she threw out semi-randomly, hoping to distract him. "I was merely curious as to how, ah, complete the transmutation was. You should probably get a thorough physical before any attempt to change you back is made."
Fullmetal looked slightly ill at that thought, perhaps remembering the fiasco of his first State-mandated gynecological exam, and unconsciously attempted to close his legs tighter. Immediately, though, he jumped as though bit and spread his legs apart even wider, bracing himself against the couch back.
"This sucks," he grumbled, apparently more just to vent his feelings out loud than addressing Mustang in particular. "I mean, this really, really sucks. Bad enough my body's changed and I've got these stupid... dangling things, but I feel so angry. I keep wanting to kick or punch things. With my automail. Al made me ride in the other car because I wouldn't stop hitting the train seat. It's like it's my time of month all the time."
"Oh, dear." That was a real problem, and one Mustang would have to address in the upcoming days. Everyone in the office watched the calendar for those legendary three days, and the prospect of a Fullmetal constantly stuck in PMS-mode was a horrifying one indeed. "Perhaps it's only a side effect of the transmutation," she suggested. "Normal males manage somehow, you know."
Fullmetal said something unprintable and, at the moment, ironic about where normal males could stick themselves. "And I don't see why guys are always obsessing over the penis thing," he added on after a moment, glaring at Mustang as though the vagaries of the male sex were all her fault. "There's nothing good about it. It's awkward and ugly and it hurts."
"Well, it's to be expected that it's uncomfortable," Mustang attempted to reason with him. "You don't have the proper, ah, supportive gear, and anyway, there's not enough room for it in those pants. If you tried to pack a pair of C or D's into a double-A bra, naturally it would be too tight and get sore."
This comparison was met with a derisive snort and a look of disbelief, and Mustang recalled that Fullmetal had likely never had that kind of problem in bra sizes that he was now, apparently, facing in cup sizes. It would probably be... unpolitic at this point to suggest that Fullmetal made a better boy than a girl, Mustang thought, and cleared her throat to try and stifle the snicker. "I'm sure we can arrange some more appropriate personal gear for you to wear in the interim," she said to deflect Fullmetal's suspicious glare. "There's likely to be something your size in the military stores, and if not, Hawkeye can take you shopping. You really will need to undergo at least one thorough physical exam; there may still be lingering harmful side effects, and if nothing else, it will need to be documented in the name of alchemical research."
Fullmetal pouted a bit, sliding down against the couch, but as expected, the appeal to science worked its magic. "All right," he grumbled.
"We will make every effort to locate and retain the Vital Forces Alchemist," Mustang said. "And I believe that's all that needs to be said for the business end of things. Now, if you don't mind indulging my natural curiosity..." and Mustang pushed aside the notepad, leaning forward over the desk, "....how does it feel?"
Ed stared at the Colonel, his mind churning in confusion. How did it feel? How did it feel? What the hell did the Colonel mean by that? He'd already told her how it felt, well at least the important things; it was annoying and uncomfortable and really kind of unnerving, but something in the way the Colonel said that phrase made him think that wasn't really what she meant. Something in the way her voice dropped to a lower, velvety register, in the way her long black lashes swept down half-closed over her eyes. (Ed was horribly jealous of those eyelashes, always had been; the Colonel was so lucky to have black hair, her eyelashes didn't just disappear against her skin.)
"Well... I already... told you..." Ed stammered, jerking his gaze away as he realized he'd been staring into the Colonel's eyes like some kind of lovestruck calf. "It's, um... like I said, it's awkward, and..."
"Yes, so you've said at volume," the Colonel purred, propping her cheek against her fist and slanting Ed a sideways look. Ed felt his face heat, inexplicably. "But somehow I find it hard to believe it's all that bad. Most of the men of my acquaintance don't seem to regard their gender as an affliction. Surely there are some... perks."
Perks? Ed's mind kept going blank, and recycling the Colonel's words like they were some kind of encrypted alchemical code. What did she mean by perks? Why wouldn't the Colonel just say what she meant? It was so annoying, the way she always had to make everything so hard, twist things around. The only perks he could see right now were...
Color flooded his face, and the Colonel lifted her head, looking at him with some concern. "Fullmetal, are you all right? You didn't answer my question."
She half-stood from her chair, leaning forward over her desk to look him over, and Ed found his eyes drawn helplessly down to follow her chest, as it dipped forward. Had the Colonel's breasts always been that curvy? He dimly supposed they must have been, because he could remember being intensely resentful of the Colonel's proportions. But the feeling that was stirring in Ed's chest right now wasn't jealousy. It was more like...
Ed discovered a new sensation to add to the host of bizarre feelings that had characterized the past few days - this time, sort of a warm rush down his belly. And then all of a sudden his groin woke up, took a look around, and screamed in protest at its lodging conditions.
He yelped, and nearly toppled over on the couch, involuntarily grabbing at the protesting parts. "Ow! Shit, ow!" What the hell was happening? Everything had been fine just a minute ago, and now it was like being on fire.
"Fullmetal? Are you all right?" Mustang's voice seemed to come to his ears from very far away. "What happened?"
"I don't know -- it just started to hurt!" Ed said, scrabbling desperately at the bottom crotch seam which seemed to have taken on new dimensions of size and sharpness. It felt like someone had just put a vice around the... thing, and he hadn't even DONE anything. "Ow, fuck, OW!"
He looked up in time to see the Colonel coming around her desk towards him, face etched with concern, and somehow that didn't help the squeezing pressure at all. "Take off your pants."
That pulled his attention away from his discomfort, at least momentarily. "What?"
"I told you those pants are the wrong size. If you aren't careful, you're going to damage yourself," Mustang said severely, but her dark eyes were concerned.
At this point, Ed was ready to take any suggestion. With watering eyes he scrabbled for the catch on his pants, but he couldn't seem to make his hands work on the zipper properly, and every brush of his fingers over the protesting area just made matters worse. He whimpered.
Then, without warning, his hands were firmly barreled aside, and the Colonel's businesslike fingers were competently undoing the top button and sliding down the zipper. The sudden relief of pressure was so great, like a glass of water on a too-hot day, that for a moment Ed couldn't do anything but gasp for air and blink the stars out of his eyes.
The Colonel's face was less than a foot from his own, head tilted to the side, eyes tilted downwards. Seized with a sudden foreboding, Ed looked to follow her glance.
It only took a moment for his eyes to confirm what his groin was already insisting; that thing was standing straight up out of his opened leather pants, looking very oddly out of place under Ed's panties. One of the Colonel's white-gloved hands was resting against the underside of it, an incongruency that Ed simply could not comprehend.
"What the hell's wrong with it?" Ed demanded, an edge of panic in his voice as he looked back up to meet the Colonel's eyes. Mustang glanced up at him, a small smile tugging the corner of her lips,
"Nothing's wrong with it, Fullmetal," she said, with a barely concealed edge of humor in her voice, barely concealed with -- Ed really couldn't place it. "This is merely your first erection. It's quite normal for young men your age."
Ed squirmed. She still hadn't taken her hand off it, and somehow that contact was growing hotter and hotter even through the fabric of the gloves and the underwear. "But..." he stuttered, trying desperately to get hold of his thoughts, "but what should I DO about it?"
"This," Mustang told him, and moved her hand. Ed's mind went completely blank.
Without any direction from his conscious mind, Ed tossed his head back, knees spreading on the edge of the couch as his hips buckled upwards. It was like the thing had taken over, directing his body from the base of the spine upwards. Distantly, he thought he heard the Colonel chuckle, bringing her other hand to bear as she eased the thing out of his underwear, but he couldn't even concentrate hard enough to feel annoyed with her as usual. Not when her hand kept moving like that, oh fuck --
"This might be an excellent way to take care of the hormone problem," Mustang was musing, although the words didn't really register. "And yours, as well."
His hands were shaking and he flailed slightly, eventually grabbing hold of the Colonel's wrists. Not because he wanted her to stop -- God no -- but just to have something to hold. She apparently mistook his intentions, though, because the movement of the gloves slowed, then stopped. "Fullmetal?"
He whimpered, brain unable to process anything more than not moving. "Whu?" was the most coherent thing he managed, and he tugged pleadingly at her wrists, trying to start them moving again. "Co... Colonel... Please... don't st...."
"Well." Something about her voice caught his attention even through the haze, and he blinked as he looked up again to meet her eyes. She was still smiling, but somehow a more gentle smile now, and there was something in her black eyes that he couldn't fathom. "Well, then. I told you even a male body had its perks, Fullmetal."
Without warning she straightened up, and Ed nearly cried out with loss as she pulled her hands away. However, instead of stepping away, she merely began to peel off her gloves, tucking them in the breast pocket of her jacket. That done, she began to undo her jacket, shrugging it back over her shoulders, and then the white button-down blouse beneath. Ed felt his mind go blank all over again as she uncovered inch after inch of smooth, perfectly complexioned skin, and oh fuck, he only thought he'd been jealous of the Colonel's breasts before, because now she was tugging them out of the cups of her bra, and he'd only thought he knew what good skin looked like, without having such a perfect example thrust in his face.
He found himself salivating as though he were a starving man facing a banquet, and swallowed hard. His hands twitched, and the Colonel must have noticed, because she laughed again. But then she was taking his left hand in hers, and guiding it up along her ribcage to cup one perfect breast, and Ed swallowed again as the warm skin gave smoothly under his fingers, the round weight fitting perfectly in his palm. It was more than enough to distract his attention as the Colonel briskly unbuckled her belt, and undid the zipper on the blue military uniform pants.
The smell hit him then, the rich warm smell of grown woman rolling out from her open clothes, and it seemed to short-circuit his spine right from his nose to his groin. The thing twitched suddenly, and Ed yelped and started as it bounced against his stomach, the tip rubbing slightly against his shirt. "It moved!" he said indignantly, looking up to meet the Colonel's concerned inquiry.
"That just shows it's healthy, Fullmetal," Mustang said smugly, her lips twitching. "Regardless of your relative proportions in your natural female state, it looks like your new male organs --" she reached down and stroked him again, a slow sensual slide from base to tip that blanked out his mind entirely again before he could respond indignantly to the size comment -- "more than make up for it." Her eyes narrowed, and her tongue appeared briefly to wash over her lips, transfixing Ed with their wet shine.
He wanted to protest that, feeling that he'd been insulted somehow, but then the Colonel was taking off her pants, hips twitching deftly out of the waistband as the blue fabric fell down her long legs. The pristine white underwear followed, and he couldn't remember what he'd been about to say. She hadn't removed the cavalry skirt, and it draped softly over her buttocks and legs as she climbed onto the couch, seating herself over him with one knee on either side of his thighs.
He was familiar enough with his own anatomy -- well, his natural anatomy -- and he and Al had studied adult women in the hope of restoring their mother. But while he knew the female body, he'd never expected to see one from this angle, and he swallowed again, this time in sudden nervousness, as he looked up at her. "Colonel... I don't... know... " he stammered, unable to vocalize his feelings, his sudden needs.
A strong hand gripped his chin, tilting his face up towards hers, and the Colonel looked down with him, eyes dilated and expression more -- well -- more something than he'd ever seen. "This won't hurt, Fullmetal, but if you don't want to continue, we'll stop."
Stop? Ed boggled at the very concept. He was trembling, sweat dripping down his forehead into his eyes, and so wound up he thought he was going to die if something didn't happen soon. He could feel the thing trembling, too, feel the blood thumping in it in time with his heartbeat, and while he hadn't exactly wanted it in the first place, he really didn't want it to explode, or fall off, or do any of the other things he was sure it was going to do if the Colonel didn't do something right now.
"No! I mean, stop? No! I mean, I need, I need, I don't know," he stammered, fidgeting restlessly against the couch cushion. Every brush of her thighs against his, her fingers against his jaw, burned like sweet fire. "I... I... Colonel, please..."
"Hush." A swift finger laid against his lips halted his stuttering words, and involuntarily he opened his mouth, tongue flickering against her skin. She tasted like soap, and metal, and smiled when he did that as though something he'd done had pleased her. "Just relax, Fullmetal, and I'll take care of everything."
Then she lifted her hips, back arching as she bore herself down onto his lap, and any blood that had been remaining in his brain left it, heading south. The tip of his thing... penis... pressed against something hot and moist and before he could clear his mind of that sensation, she was sliding down, hotandwet, ohsoslick and he thought he was falling into an endless tunnel of feels so good.
He made a noise, halfway between a strangled gasp and a groan, and suddenly the Colonel's mouth was covering his own, the Colonel's fine black hair falling into his eyes, and her tongue in his mouth. It felt strange; good, and it distracted him from the heatandwet but had the unfortunate effect of restricting his breathing, and he was gasping for air when she released him. "Keep quiet, unless you want everyone to know what we're doing in here," she panted, her mouth still inches from his own, and although he couldn't quite grasp the meanings of her statement, he did his best to follow her orders.
She tossed her head back, shoulders rolling as her back arched; the jacket and blouse, hanging open around her breasts, would have fallen off if her hands had not been firmly grounded on his shoulders. She was panting now too, although not as fast as desperately as he was, and he tried desperately to remember to keep quiet as she bunched her muscles, gathering strength in her legs and hips, and began to move on him.
So slow, why was she moving so slow, and Ed whined aloud as he attempted to thrust, to buckle up against her. Mustang opened her eyes, and flashing a superior smirk down at him shifted her weight, pinning him down and taking away his leverage. "So impatient," she said breathlessly. "Let me handle this one, Fullmetal, I do know what I'm doing."
"Faster," he whimpered, but she only laughed at him, sliding oh so slowly down the length of him, and Ed suddenly found occasion to remember everything he hated about the Colonel. "Bastard," he groaned, though without the usual heat behind it.
"Quiet," she reminded him, arching her back again, and he bit on his lip to try and obey. He was finding that if he tried to time his movements with hers, thrust up just as she came down, she didn't hold him down, and between that and trying to hold back his moans he didn't have much concentration to spare for insults.
It all became too much suddenly -- the Colonel's expression, the Colonel's skin under his hands, her heavy breathing, the warmhotslicksmoothtightness, and Ed writhed uncontrollably, hands clutching at her skin and at the fabric of the couch. He felt like he was swelling up to the point of bursting, and clenched his teeth helplessly as though trying to hold back an explosion.
And then, in a moment somewhere between panic and exaltation, he did explode. All thoughts of "quiet" were forgotten, although if he shouted in the heat of the moment, he didn't hear it.
When his eyes and ears cleared, what felt like hours later, he found himself slumped panting against the back of the couch, every fiber in his body thrumming with bliss. Mustang was still kneeling over him, expression somewhere between annoyed and amused. "I should have known you would go off early," she murmured. "Oh, well, I suppose it was only to be expected."
She shifted off of him, and he gasped and shivered as he slid out of her, feeling suddenly very cold, very limp and very tired. But the Colonel wasn't done with him quite yet. "Here," she said, picking up his hand from where it had fallen against the couch cushion.
In some confusion, he tried to work out what she meant; she pulled his hand open and guided it between her legs, and when his skin touched something wet and warm, she gasped a little and shivered in delight. "Rub," she instructed him, breathlessly; and, bewildered, he tried.
She kept hold of his hand in both of hers, directing the place and the pressure, and he couldn't help the irritated thought that she was just using him for her own ends again, just like it had always been between them. When she suddenly arched and gasped, though, her flesh quivering and releasing a warm, sticky liquid onto his hand, her expression was so sanguinely delighted that he felt like it would be pretty selfish of him to complain.
And to be truthful, at the moment he didn't feel much like complaining about anything. He dropped back onto the couch as soon as she was done with him, feeling too weak and slothful even to get back up. He was dimly aware of the Colonel re-fastening her coat and jacket, and sliding her pants back up from the floor, and was only vaguely disappointed by the loss.
"Fullmetal," the Colonel was saying in his ear, shaking his shoulder in one hand. "Fullmetal, don't go to sleep on my couch. You need to get dressed before someone comes in here."
He stirred weakly, enough to slap away her hands and grumble. "Have a name, you know," he muttered in annoyance, slitting his eyes to glare at her. "You could use it."
"Fine," Mustang said, halfway between amused and annoyed. "Edwina, don't go to sleep on my couch."
"--Ed," he hissed, opening his eyes all the way to glare at her now. She was smirking, and before he could move fast enough to stop him she reached down into his lap, deftly took hold of his limp... thing, and tucked it neatly back into his pants. "I, ow... I told you never to fuckin' call me that."
"You aren't allowed to sleep yet," Mustang said briskly, doing up the fastenings for him with the ease of long practice. "You need to go shopping with First Lieutenant Hawkeye for a more appropriate size of pants."
"Huh?" Ed stretched his eyes a little more, sitting up on the couch. "What? Why?"
"Well, if you're going to be hanging around me in this body for any length of time," Mustang smirked, stepping briskly back towards her desk, "you're going to need them."
Title: Boys and Girls (still looking for a more clever title)
Pairing: Roy/Ed
Warnings: het, crack, genderswitch, language, silly
Rating: NC-17
Colonel Mustang was bored. So bored, in fact, that sorting the office supplies in order of quantity, expense, and frequency used had become the major highlight of the day. The advantage of this practice rather than the more usual pastimes of window washing, chair-tilting, or plain old daydream-staring was that it necessitated being out in the office with the rest of the officers, where Hawkeye's disapproval could be spread equally, rather than back in the office withering under that eagle glare alone.
So it could definitely be said that the abrupt and unscheduled return of the Fullmetal Alchemist, back from a supposedly risk-free mission to locate and detain a missing State Alchemist, certainly sped up the pace of things.
Fullmetal burst through the doors hard enough to tear them off their hinges, made a bee-line for where Mustang sat at Falman's desk, in a wild-eyed state of fury and panic that none of those there gathered had ever been privileged (or unfortunate) enough to witness.
"LOOK WHAT THAT BASTARD DID TO ME," the teenager shrieked, very nearly right in the Colonel's ear. It took several moments of wincing and head-shaking to restore normal hearing function, but somehow Mustang doubted that the missed dialogue had been anything important. It never was, when the younger alchemist was in this mood.
"Slow down a moment, Fullmetal," Mustang said when Fullmetal stopped for breath. "First of all, where is Al?" If there was anyone who could calm down Fullmetal in a raging fury, it was a seven-foot suit of alchemically-animated armor, and it was a job that Mustang would be only too glad to delegate.
"Dealing with the paperwork. Don't change the subject," Fullmetal snarled. Mustang's eyebrows went up; it was rare that Fullmetal could not be distracted onto the topic of Al whose condition was, after all, the primary driving force in their quest for the Stone.
"Second of all, who exactly is that bastard, and here I'm assuming you are not in fact referring to me, and what exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"
"Look at this!" Fullmetal shouted, and in a flurry of violent movements, yanked off the trademark red coat and tossed it away. The startlement of the onlookers was only matched and increased when the black shirt followed the coat. "And you tell me!"
There was a moment of silence as everyone in the office eyed Fullmetal's smooth, streamlined, and muscle-packed chest and abdomen.
"Are we supposed to be missing something here?" Breda asked Havoc.
"Looks about the same to me," Havoc observed.
"Oh ha, ha, very funny, DON'T YOU ALL HAVE SOMETHING BETTER TO DO THAN SIT AND STARE?" Fullmetal snarled at them, whipping around in a nut fury.
Looking at the gold eyes shooting flames and forked tongue slithering around frothing lips, the cream of Amestris's military force suddenly decided that they did, in fact, have better things to be doing. Only Havoc held firm, shooting back a "Well, chief, if you don't like people staring, why'd you take off your shirt?"
"Would you rather I took off my PANTS to demonstrate?"
Hawkeye coughed politely, interjecting a well-needed dose of military discipline back into the room. "Fullmetal, I really must insist that you remain in uniform. Or at least," and amber eyes glanced coolly from the black leather pants to the red coat and shirt now strewn messily across the floor, "no further out of uniform."
"Really, First Lieutenant, must you be such a spoilsport?" Mustang drawled softly, which had the unfortunate effect of drawing Fullmetal's attention back around front.
"YOU!" A metal hand stabbed across the desk, nearly poking Mustang in the eye, as Fullmetal slammed his other palm onto Falman's blotter. "You KNEW this would happen, didn't you? You knew when you sent me out after that perverted freak, that he could do this to me!"
"And what, exactly, did I know he could do to you?" Mustang asked in exasperation. Past experience indicated that if not interrupted, Fullmetal could rant on for hours.
"He transmuted me! The bastard! He got the drop on me! One moment I'm about to kick his pasty ass into next week, and the next moment I'm a guh..." Fullmetal turned beet red, and stuttered for a moment. "A g-guh..."
"A gigalo?" Breda offered helpfully. This help was rewarded by a look like a swift dagger of poison to the gut.
"He turned me into a GUY!"
Silence reigned.
For the first time since Fullmetal had entered the room, Mustang set down the pen and leaned forward intently. "Fullmetal... did you get hit on the head?" It was an honest concern. Last time Fullmetal had ended up in the hospital with a concussion, Al had to answer to the name "George" for three days.
"NO, I did not get hit in the head! I mean yes! Yes I got a few knocks on the head as is usual on these crap missions you send me on, you shit Colonel, but that has nothing to do with it! I'm telling you, he turned me into a GUY! A male! Look at this! My breasts are GONE!" Fullmetal punctuated this statement with a ringing slap to one distinctly flat pectoral, which seemed to echo hollowly in the fascinated office.
"And there's this... THING between my legs!" Now Fullmetal was actually blushing, good god, and when was the last time that had happened? The tirade had gone from outraged and righteous to a distinctly complaining tone. "And it's a funny shape and it keeps bumping into things and it chafes."
Havoc's cigarette dropped out of her open mouth. Fury choked and had to wheeze for breath while Breda pounded on her back. Hawkeye, as the only male -- well, previously the only male -- in the room, was beginning to look genuinely alarmed and not a little bit sympathetic.
And as for Mustang -- well, it took several minutes for Mustang to regain her composure, with her erstwhile subordinate leaning over the desk towards her, glaring with all his might and rubbing awkwardly at the front of his (suddenly much tighter) leather pants. "I... wasn't aware that was even possible, with current alchemy techniques," she finally managed, in a pale imitation of her usual urbane tone.
"Don't tell ME that!" Fullmetal blustered. "Tell HIM that!"
"Well. This is an unexpected development." Mustang sat back in her chair, tenting her fingers in front of her. Behind her calm face, her mind was racing. Clearly the Vital Force Alchemist was not such a doddering washup as his file had suggested, if he was capable of pulling off a transformation of this caliber without causing any harm to his subject. Equally clearly, they would have to track down Vital Forces if they wanted to be able to reverse the transformation, and once he was in custody, there were a number of ways he might be used to apply leverage on the Alchemical College.
In the meantime, however...
"This sucks," Fullmetal announced, hunching over on himself slightly. "My balance is all thrown off and my weight's all wrong. I keep thinking I'm going to fall over. And this... this... thing gets in the way every time I try to move!"
"Aw, it's not so bad, Chief," Havoc said, attempting for a comforting tone. "I mean, it's not like you make an ugly guy or anything, am I right?" She looked over at her comrades for support.
"Right, right!" Fury chimed in, on cue. "Actually, you make a really handsome boy, you know. You should look in a mirror some time."
"Yeah, I'd totally do you," Breda agreed, "if you weren't, you know, you."
"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"
"You'd think the hair really wouldn't work," Fury mused, running her hand through her own short brown fuzz, "being long and all, but it really does, actually. It sort of frames your neck and shoulders, brings out the muscles..."
"Look on the bright side," Hawkeye advised him kindly. "Think of how much easier it will be to fire a rifle now, without breasts to get in the way."
Fullmetal was starting to turn slightly purple, now, which definitely clashed with his coloring, and he was turning between one and another of Mustang's officers as if unsure which direction he would explode in. Mustang decided it was definitely time to intervene.
"As fascinating as all these various points of discussion are -- " she interrupted smoothly, shooting a slightly apologetic look at Hawkeye and a slightly venomous one at Havoc, " -- there really are more important issues at hand." She stood, and beckoned to Fullmetal as she turned towards the door of her office. "This is a completely unexpected development in alchemy, and Fullmetal, I'd like a report on what you remember of the transmutation process immediately. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can restore your femininity."
She guided Fullmetal into her office, and shut the door firmly behind them, cutting off the snickers and fascinated glances of the officers. She could almost see Fullmetal's shoulders sag in relief as they left the crowd behind them, and placed one gloved hand on Fullmetal's shoulder in a gesture of support. Fullmetal glared at her half-heartedly, but didn't immediately shrug her away like normally, so she smirked as she let her hand drop and made her way to her large desk at the end of the office. "Have a seat, Fullmetal."
He did, and Mustang observed his uncomfortable shifting and fidgeting for a moment before she suggested mildly, "Try sitting with your knees apart."
"I knew that!" He sat up quickly and rearranged his legs; Mustang allowed herself one long moment of indulgence, tracing her eyes over the firm shape outlined under all that -- leather really concealed nothing.
She shook herself and glanced away, only to look up into Ed's accusing gaze. "You were staring," he accused.
Mustang cleared her throat. "Well, it is the topic of discussion," she threw out semi-randomly, hoping to distract him. "I was merely curious as to how, ah, complete the transmutation was. You should probably get a thorough physical before any attempt to change you back is made."
Fullmetal looked slightly ill at that thought, perhaps remembering the fiasco of his first State-mandated gynecological exam, and unconsciously attempted to close his legs tighter. Immediately, though, he jumped as though bit and spread his legs apart even wider, bracing himself against the couch back.
"This sucks," he grumbled, apparently more just to vent his feelings out loud than addressing Mustang in particular. "I mean, this really, really sucks. Bad enough my body's changed and I've got these stupid... dangling things, but I feel so angry. I keep wanting to kick or punch things. With my automail. Al made me ride in the other car because I wouldn't stop hitting the train seat. It's like it's my time of month all the time."
"Oh, dear." That was a real problem, and one Mustang would have to address in the upcoming days. Everyone in the office watched the calendar for those legendary three days, and the prospect of a Fullmetal constantly stuck in PMS-mode was a horrifying one indeed. "Perhaps it's only a side effect of the transmutation," she suggested. "Normal males manage somehow, you know."
Fullmetal said something unprintable and, at the moment, ironic about where normal males could stick themselves. "And I don't see why guys are always obsessing over the penis thing," he added on after a moment, glaring at Mustang as though the vagaries of the male sex were all her fault. "There's nothing good about it. It's awkward and ugly and it hurts."
"Well, it's to be expected that it's uncomfortable," Mustang attempted to reason with him. "You don't have the proper, ah, supportive gear, and anyway, there's not enough room for it in those pants. If you tried to pack a pair of C or D's into a double-A bra, naturally it would be too tight and get sore."
This comparison was met with a derisive snort and a look of disbelief, and Mustang recalled that Fullmetal had likely never had that kind of problem in bra sizes that he was now, apparently, facing in cup sizes. It would probably be... unpolitic at this point to suggest that Fullmetal made a better boy than a girl, Mustang thought, and cleared her throat to try and stifle the snicker. "I'm sure we can arrange some more appropriate personal gear for you to wear in the interim," she said to deflect Fullmetal's suspicious glare. "There's likely to be something your size in the military stores, and if not, Hawkeye can take you shopping. You really will need to undergo at least one thorough physical exam; there may still be lingering harmful side effects, and if nothing else, it will need to be documented in the name of alchemical research."
Fullmetal pouted a bit, sliding down against the couch, but as expected, the appeal to science worked its magic. "All right," he grumbled.
"We will make every effort to locate and retain the Vital Forces Alchemist," Mustang said. "And I believe that's all that needs to be said for the business end of things. Now, if you don't mind indulging my natural curiosity..." and Mustang pushed aside the notepad, leaning forward over the desk, "....how does it feel?"
Ed stared at the Colonel, his mind churning in confusion. How did it feel? How did it feel? What the hell did the Colonel mean by that? He'd already told her how it felt, well at least the important things; it was annoying and uncomfortable and really kind of unnerving, but something in the way the Colonel said that phrase made him think that wasn't really what she meant. Something in the way her voice dropped to a lower, velvety register, in the way her long black lashes swept down half-closed over her eyes. (Ed was horribly jealous of those eyelashes, always had been; the Colonel was so lucky to have black hair, her eyelashes didn't just disappear against her skin.)
"Well... I already... told you..." Ed stammered, jerking his gaze away as he realized he'd been staring into the Colonel's eyes like some kind of lovestruck calf. "It's, um... like I said, it's awkward, and..."
"Yes, so you've said at volume," the Colonel purred, propping her cheek against her fist and slanting Ed a sideways look. Ed felt his face heat, inexplicably. "But somehow I find it hard to believe it's all that bad. Most of the men of my acquaintance don't seem to regard their gender as an affliction. Surely there are some... perks."
Perks? Ed's mind kept going blank, and recycling the Colonel's words like they were some kind of encrypted alchemical code. What did she mean by perks? Why wouldn't the Colonel just say what she meant? It was so annoying, the way she always had to make everything so hard, twist things around. The only perks he could see right now were...
Color flooded his face, and the Colonel lifted her head, looking at him with some concern. "Fullmetal, are you all right? You didn't answer my question."
She half-stood from her chair, leaning forward over her desk to look him over, and Ed found his eyes drawn helplessly down to follow her chest, as it dipped forward. Had the Colonel's breasts always been that curvy? He dimly supposed they must have been, because he could remember being intensely resentful of the Colonel's proportions. But the feeling that was stirring in Ed's chest right now wasn't jealousy. It was more like...
Ed discovered a new sensation to add to the host of bizarre feelings that had characterized the past few days - this time, sort of a warm rush down his belly. And then all of a sudden his groin woke up, took a look around, and screamed in protest at its lodging conditions.
He yelped, and nearly toppled over on the couch, involuntarily grabbing at the protesting parts. "Ow! Shit, ow!" What the hell was happening? Everything had been fine just a minute ago, and now it was like being on fire.
"Fullmetal? Are you all right?" Mustang's voice seemed to come to his ears from very far away. "What happened?"
"I don't know -- it just started to hurt!" Ed said, scrabbling desperately at the bottom crotch seam which seemed to have taken on new dimensions of size and sharpness. It felt like someone had just put a vice around the... thing, and he hadn't even DONE anything. "Ow, fuck, OW!"
He looked up in time to see the Colonel coming around her desk towards him, face etched with concern, and somehow that didn't help the squeezing pressure at all. "Take off your pants."
That pulled his attention away from his discomfort, at least momentarily. "What?"
"I told you those pants are the wrong size. If you aren't careful, you're going to damage yourself," Mustang said severely, but her dark eyes were concerned.
At this point, Ed was ready to take any suggestion. With watering eyes he scrabbled for the catch on his pants, but he couldn't seem to make his hands work on the zipper properly, and every brush of his fingers over the protesting area just made matters worse. He whimpered.
Then, without warning, his hands were firmly barreled aside, and the Colonel's businesslike fingers were competently undoing the top button and sliding down the zipper. The sudden relief of pressure was so great, like a glass of water on a too-hot day, that for a moment Ed couldn't do anything but gasp for air and blink the stars out of his eyes.
The Colonel's face was less than a foot from his own, head tilted to the side, eyes tilted downwards. Seized with a sudden foreboding, Ed looked to follow her glance.
It only took a moment for his eyes to confirm what his groin was already insisting; that thing was standing straight up out of his opened leather pants, looking very oddly out of place under Ed's panties. One of the Colonel's white-gloved hands was resting against the underside of it, an incongruency that Ed simply could not comprehend.
"What the hell's wrong with it?" Ed demanded, an edge of panic in his voice as he looked back up to meet the Colonel's eyes. Mustang glanced up at him, a small smile tugging the corner of her lips,
"Nothing's wrong with it, Fullmetal," she said, with a barely concealed edge of humor in her voice, barely concealed with -- Ed really couldn't place it. "This is merely your first erection. It's quite normal for young men your age."
Ed squirmed. She still hadn't taken her hand off it, and somehow that contact was growing hotter and hotter even through the fabric of the gloves and the underwear. "But..." he stuttered, trying desperately to get hold of his thoughts, "but what should I DO about it?"
"This," Mustang told him, and moved her hand. Ed's mind went completely blank.
Without any direction from his conscious mind, Ed tossed his head back, knees spreading on the edge of the couch as his hips buckled upwards. It was like the thing had taken over, directing his body from the base of the spine upwards. Distantly, he thought he heard the Colonel chuckle, bringing her other hand to bear as she eased the thing out of his underwear, but he couldn't even concentrate hard enough to feel annoyed with her as usual. Not when her hand kept moving like that, oh fuck --
"This might be an excellent way to take care of the hormone problem," Mustang was musing, although the words didn't really register. "And yours, as well."
His hands were shaking and he flailed slightly, eventually grabbing hold of the Colonel's wrists. Not because he wanted her to stop -- God no -- but just to have something to hold. She apparently mistook his intentions, though, because the movement of the gloves slowed, then stopped. "Fullmetal?"
He whimpered, brain unable to process anything more than not moving. "Whu?" was the most coherent thing he managed, and he tugged pleadingly at her wrists, trying to start them moving again. "Co... Colonel... Please... don't st...."
"Well." Something about her voice caught his attention even through the haze, and he blinked as he looked up again to meet her eyes. She was still smiling, but somehow a more gentle smile now, and there was something in her black eyes that he couldn't fathom. "Well, then. I told you even a male body had its perks, Fullmetal."
Without warning she straightened up, and Ed nearly cried out with loss as she pulled her hands away. However, instead of stepping away, she merely began to peel off her gloves, tucking them in the breast pocket of her jacket. That done, she began to undo her jacket, shrugging it back over her shoulders, and then the white button-down blouse beneath. Ed felt his mind go blank all over again as she uncovered inch after inch of smooth, perfectly complexioned skin, and oh fuck, he only thought he'd been jealous of the Colonel's breasts before, because now she was tugging them out of the cups of her bra, and he'd only thought he knew what good skin looked like, without having such a perfect example thrust in his face.
He found himself salivating as though he were a starving man facing a banquet, and swallowed hard. His hands twitched, and the Colonel must have noticed, because she laughed again. But then she was taking his left hand in hers, and guiding it up along her ribcage to cup one perfect breast, and Ed swallowed again as the warm skin gave smoothly under his fingers, the round weight fitting perfectly in his palm. It was more than enough to distract his attention as the Colonel briskly unbuckled her belt, and undid the zipper on the blue military uniform pants.
The smell hit him then, the rich warm smell of grown woman rolling out from her open clothes, and it seemed to short-circuit his spine right from his nose to his groin. The thing twitched suddenly, and Ed yelped and started as it bounced against his stomach, the tip rubbing slightly against his shirt. "It moved!" he said indignantly, looking up to meet the Colonel's concerned inquiry.
"That just shows it's healthy, Fullmetal," Mustang said smugly, her lips twitching. "Regardless of your relative proportions in your natural female state, it looks like your new male organs --" she reached down and stroked him again, a slow sensual slide from base to tip that blanked out his mind entirely again before he could respond indignantly to the size comment -- "more than make up for it." Her eyes narrowed, and her tongue appeared briefly to wash over her lips, transfixing Ed with their wet shine.
He wanted to protest that, feeling that he'd been insulted somehow, but then the Colonel was taking off her pants, hips twitching deftly out of the waistband as the blue fabric fell down her long legs. The pristine white underwear followed, and he couldn't remember what he'd been about to say. She hadn't removed the cavalry skirt, and it draped softly over her buttocks and legs as she climbed onto the couch, seating herself over him with one knee on either side of his thighs.
He was familiar enough with his own anatomy -- well, his natural anatomy -- and he and Al had studied adult women in the hope of restoring their mother. But while he knew the female body, he'd never expected to see one from this angle, and he swallowed again, this time in sudden nervousness, as he looked up at her. "Colonel... I don't... know... " he stammered, unable to vocalize his feelings, his sudden needs.
A strong hand gripped his chin, tilting his face up towards hers, and the Colonel looked down with him, eyes dilated and expression more -- well -- more something than he'd ever seen. "This won't hurt, Fullmetal, but if you don't want to continue, we'll stop."
Stop? Ed boggled at the very concept. He was trembling, sweat dripping down his forehead into his eyes, and so wound up he thought he was going to die if something didn't happen soon. He could feel the thing trembling, too, feel the blood thumping in it in time with his heartbeat, and while he hadn't exactly wanted it in the first place, he really didn't want it to explode, or fall off, or do any of the other things he was sure it was going to do if the Colonel didn't do something right now.
"No! I mean, stop? No! I mean, I need, I need, I don't know," he stammered, fidgeting restlessly against the couch cushion. Every brush of her thighs against his, her fingers against his jaw, burned like sweet fire. "I... I... Colonel, please..."
"Hush." A swift finger laid against his lips halted his stuttering words, and involuntarily he opened his mouth, tongue flickering against her skin. She tasted like soap, and metal, and smiled when he did that as though something he'd done had pleased her. "Just relax, Fullmetal, and I'll take care of everything."
Then she lifted her hips, back arching as she bore herself down onto his lap, and any blood that had been remaining in his brain left it, heading south. The tip of his thing... penis... pressed against something hot and moist and before he could clear his mind of that sensation, she was sliding down, hotandwet, ohsoslick and he thought he was falling into an endless tunnel of feels so good.
He made a noise, halfway between a strangled gasp and a groan, and suddenly the Colonel's mouth was covering his own, the Colonel's fine black hair falling into his eyes, and her tongue in his mouth. It felt strange; good, and it distracted him from the heatandwet but had the unfortunate effect of restricting his breathing, and he was gasping for air when she released him. "Keep quiet, unless you want everyone to know what we're doing in here," she panted, her mouth still inches from his own, and although he couldn't quite grasp the meanings of her statement, he did his best to follow her orders.
She tossed her head back, shoulders rolling as her back arched; the jacket and blouse, hanging open around her breasts, would have fallen off if her hands had not been firmly grounded on his shoulders. She was panting now too, although not as fast as desperately as he was, and he tried desperately to remember to keep quiet as she bunched her muscles, gathering strength in her legs and hips, and began to move on him.
So slow, why was she moving so slow, and Ed whined aloud as he attempted to thrust, to buckle up against her. Mustang opened her eyes, and flashing a superior smirk down at him shifted her weight, pinning him down and taking away his leverage. "So impatient," she said breathlessly. "Let me handle this one, Fullmetal, I do know what I'm doing."
"Faster," he whimpered, but she only laughed at him, sliding oh so slowly down the length of him, and Ed suddenly found occasion to remember everything he hated about the Colonel. "Bastard," he groaned, though without the usual heat behind it.
"Quiet," she reminded him, arching her back again, and he bit on his lip to try and obey. He was finding that if he tried to time his movements with hers, thrust up just as she came down, she didn't hold him down, and between that and trying to hold back his moans he didn't have much concentration to spare for insults.
It all became too much suddenly -- the Colonel's expression, the Colonel's skin under his hands, her heavy breathing, the warmhotslicksmoothtightness, and Ed writhed uncontrollably, hands clutching at her skin and at the fabric of the couch. He felt like he was swelling up to the point of bursting, and clenched his teeth helplessly as though trying to hold back an explosion.
And then, in a moment somewhere between panic and exaltation, he did explode. All thoughts of "quiet" were forgotten, although if he shouted in the heat of the moment, he didn't hear it.
When his eyes and ears cleared, what felt like hours later, he found himself slumped panting against the back of the couch, every fiber in his body thrumming with bliss. Mustang was still kneeling over him, expression somewhere between annoyed and amused. "I should have known you would go off early," she murmured. "Oh, well, I suppose it was only to be expected."
She shifted off of him, and he gasped and shivered as he slid out of her, feeling suddenly very cold, very limp and very tired. But the Colonel wasn't done with him quite yet. "Here," she said, picking up his hand from where it had fallen against the couch cushion.
In some confusion, he tried to work out what she meant; she pulled his hand open and guided it between her legs, and when his skin touched something wet and warm, she gasped a little and shivered in delight. "Rub," she instructed him, breathlessly; and, bewildered, he tried.
She kept hold of his hand in both of hers, directing the place and the pressure, and he couldn't help the irritated thought that she was just using him for her own ends again, just like it had always been between them. When she suddenly arched and gasped, though, her flesh quivering and releasing a warm, sticky liquid onto his hand, her expression was so sanguinely delighted that he felt like it would be pretty selfish of him to complain.
And to be truthful, at the moment he didn't feel much like complaining about anything. He dropped back onto the couch as soon as she was done with him, feeling too weak and slothful even to get back up. He was dimly aware of the Colonel re-fastening her coat and jacket, and sliding her pants back up from the floor, and was only vaguely disappointed by the loss.
"Fullmetal," the Colonel was saying in his ear, shaking his shoulder in one hand. "Fullmetal, don't go to sleep on my couch. You need to get dressed before someone comes in here."
He stirred weakly, enough to slap away her hands and grumble. "Have a name, you know," he muttered in annoyance, slitting his eyes to glare at her. "You could use it."
"Fine," Mustang said, halfway between amused and annoyed. "Edwina, don't go to sleep on my couch."
"--Ed," he hissed, opening his eyes all the way to glare at her now. She was smirking, and before he could move fast enough to stop him she reached down into his lap, deftly took hold of his limp... thing, and tucked it neatly back into his pants. "I, ow... I told you never to fuckin' call me that."
"You aren't allowed to sleep yet," Mustang said briskly, doing up the fastenings for him with the ease of long practice. "You need to go shopping with First Lieutenant Hawkeye for a more appropriate size of pants."
"Huh?" Ed stretched his eyes a little more, sitting up on the couch. "What? Why?"
"Well, if you're going to be hanging around me in this body for any length of time," Mustang smirked, stepping briskly back towards her desk, "you're going to need them."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 08:58 am (UTC)I think my favorite line was this: "Yes, so you've said at volume," the Colonel purred, propping her cheek against her fist and slanting Ed a sideways look. I could just see it so *clearly*.
As for yuri (that's femmslash, right?LOL), I don't think you'd have much problem. I mean, c'mon! If you can change Roy into a girl and notloose his character and write hot het, yuri should be easy. n_n
Great job!
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Date: 2006-04-07 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 09:55 am (UTC)It's great writing, but it's oh so wrong!! Edwina! gaaaak!
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Date: 2006-04-07 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 10:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 04:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 10:19 am (UTC)LOL Mustang is in her Dirty Thirties! ^o^ Watch out, Ed! Yeah, he better invest in those bigger pants or suffer the pain!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 04:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 11:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 04:26 am (UTC)FMA gender bending is FUN!
Date: 2006-04-06 02:05 pm (UTC)Re: FMA gender bending is FUN!
Date: 2006-04-07 04:30 am (UTC)Re: FMA gender bending is FUN!
Date: 2006-04-07 07:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 06:18 pm (UTC)Mikke, I adore you. Even more so now that I'm awake :DDDD
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Date: 2006-04-20 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 06:35 pm (UTC)nice use of smut
A++
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Date: 2006-04-20 04:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 06:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 04:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 07:06 pm (UTC)Oh homina. I REALLY approve of Roy as a woman, in a way I probably shouldn't.
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Date: 2006-04-06 07:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-06 07:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 03:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-19 07:30 am (UTC)Wow. I ave to say, you are the only author I've ever read who could pull off genderswitch well enoug for me to get through to the end.
This was funny, and sexy, and in character, and just plain fun. :D
no subject
Date: 2006-04-20 04:37 am (UTC)Awww, thanks for your kind words!