Violent Leisure ch 1-pt 2
April 23rd, 2005 08:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skerenAnd because LJ is a bitch!
Violent Leisure
Chapter one- part two
Roy let his head thump back to the tile, and he was visibly cursing himself. He must have been tired to have overlooked something so glaringly obvious when he'd returned home that night. He'd been so busy trying to deal with the Elric fall out and to plan for the inquiry over the damages that he hadn't been able to focus on something as painfully simple as asking what the hell an escaped convict wanted.
Kimblee chuckled darkly and gripped the smaller man's chin, yanking downward roughly. "You've grown soft, weak, since the war. How the hell did you even survive? You don't have what it takes to survive... Damn that Hawkeye bitch. She should have let you die. You aren't worth the pri. . ." He had to stop himself. Mustang was possibly worth the price, if only to be used and abused. When the hell did he get so lecherous? "Mm I believe you have your uses, but I'll be damned if I can think of one that is focused outside the bedroom."
Roy hissed out a breath, snapping back to the moment instead of beating himself up like he'd been a moment before, and he jerked his chin away. "Then apparently you have no reason to be here, do you?"
"Other than finding my fun, you mean?" He made sure that his voice veritably dripped with acidic sarcasm. Sometimes Mustang was just too thick for his own good. "I haven’t quite gotten what I came for, now have I? You haven't given me what I want, nor have I taken it. So I believe we have some unfinished business."
Roy glared up at him, trying to see if he had any slack at all in his new bindings. "You don't care about the information anymore, do you." It was flat, not really a question.
Kimblee pressed himself back into place atop Mustang's body and bent close to the pale face. "No." And it's all your fault was left hanging in the air between them. It was all the pony's fault and there wasn't anything that could be done about it... at least not by the bound alchemist. The only thing that would save him, it seemed, was someone wandering over, but Kimblee's informant had given ample schedules of any and all of Mustang's regular visitors... even a few of the irregular ones.
Roy curled his fists and stared back at him, the unspoken words as obvious as if they'd been shouted in his face. That didn't mean he would struggle any less if he persisted in carrying through, of course, but there'd always be this niggling that said he did it to himself. "And there's no changing your mind."
Oh, the pony wanted to negotiate did he? Well, it wasn't a first per say, but it was interesting. Kimblee propped an elbow on the man's chest and leaned his head into the opened palm. "And just how can you change my mind?" It wasn't going to help the alchemist in any way, but he felt like humoring some false hope before crushing it swiftly with the painful reminder of just who was in charge of this situation.
Alright, that might have been completely futile, especially as he could come up with a sum total of nothing in reply to that question. He was pinned down and tied up, this didn't give him options. "I was rather hoping you'd tell me."
"Heh, sorry but the cold hard truth is you can't. No, I'm enjoying this little diversion." He moved his face right along side the bruised area on the colonel's cheek, licking the area teasingly. "You were doomed from the beginning."
Roy leaned away from the action quickly, glaring. "Well, I've never taken to being doomed very well." Somewhere in there he'd apparently dragged his resolve back together.
"No, you don't seem the type." The man mumbled as he continued exploring the warmed area with his tongue. Bruises tasted different from undamaged areas. Maybe it was the pooling blood just below the surface of the skin that made it so appealing? Kimblee didn't really care about that at the moment since all he cared about was getting his prize for winning this perceived challenge. If he wanted to do that, he would have to step up his assault tactics. "But you'll learn. I have all the time in the world to make this punishment last Mustang. Do you think you can outlast me?"
"Nobody has all the time in the world." He twisted more fully away from the unwelcome attention to the bruise. Then he started to gauge what bits of himself he had to work with.
"You seem to think I have something pressing to occupy my time, Mustang." He spat the words bitterly into the man's ear. A moment later he sank long fingers into the thick raven hair and yanked Mustang's head back towards his mouth. "I wasn't done quite yet. Do not move again or this will become more painful for you." He was going to do this the hard way by the looks of it, because he knew Mustang had some fight still left in him. His one true goal, at the moment he let himself be pulled into this little game, was to make those vibrantly expressive eyes turn dull and listless. He wanted to hear the man's pain filled screams fill the darkened room around them and echo off the walls. In time he would get them. How long it would take depended on how much the Flame alchemist could take.
Of course, the hair pulling was met with a small jerk of resistance, but not enough for the man to actually rip out his own hair. He growled a little. "I'll never understand your fascination for pain."
"I have an interesting relationship with pain. One that took years to cultivate. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Mustang?" Kimblee seemed to loose interest in what he'd been doing after that statement. Releasing the hair he moved to the floor beside the prone body. "You'll be on the utmost intimate terms with it shortly, so don't fret about that."
It was time to completely immobilize his little pet project. No sense in loosing what he'd gained by letting the man have some leeway. It just wouldn't do, no, not at all. He set about binding Mustang's legs far enough apart that the ache would soon set in if there wasn't any movement for the muscles. Roy didn't exactly make it easy of course, obviously not caring for the idea of being even less in control. Having his arms over his head was bad enough. Despite his resolve, Roy didn't even manage to land a decent kick. He could only be grateful he was still fully dressed.
"Disgraceful," was muttered to no one in particular as Kimblee finished preparing Mustang in the pose he thought best suited the man. It was so deliciously simple that it ached to be done. He idly wondered why no one had done this before him. The man was just too easy to read. And he knew for a fact that it hadn't been the case, why else would this startle the poor boy so much? It made him smirk all the wider. When he'd gauged himself able to continue in a completely pedagogue role without the worries of sinking further in before it was time... he turned back to the bound man and crawled up to his side. "You've been nothing but a pain since the first time I met you Mustang. I didn't think much of you then, only how I could use you best as a lovely firework of mine. But now I know I should have paid more attention. You'd have been quite the entertainment back then, even as you are now."
"I'm not a toy Crimson." He didn't have any speeches. The sheer lack of options that he had right now was starting to get to him, and he was more intent on calming down before unwillingly yielding to the man's apparent wishes. He'd been tied up before, he was calm then, so why the hell was Kimblee scaring him so much now?
Kimblee chuckled humorlessly. "Ah but that is where you are wrong Mustang. I think you're a perfect little plaything, and I seem to be having more fun with you like this than anyone should. Somehow, I thought you'd be honored." Dark humor suited him, but he doubted it suited the idiot before him. Just something to do, really it was. But this was turning into something more than that. He was enjoying toying with the man but knew he'd have to finish soon. He may have boasted about having all the time in the world, but that simply wasn't the case. He knew someone would eventually come looking for the colonel. He also needed to leave the city soon otherwise someone might figure out he was still alive. The question was whether to let the pony live, or to put him out of his own misery.
Roy clenched his fists and took a deep breath, a twisted parody of a smile flitting over his face. He'd come to be rather fond of dark humor over the years. One had to when faced with the Elric boys regularly. "If you think of it that way, are you sure it shouldn't be the other way around?" He tested his leg bonds unhappily.
"Getting brave are we?" He asked gruffly while retrieving a small pocketknife from the inside pocket of his jacket. No more than a three-inch blade, and a total of six inches fully extended, the black and gray knife gleamed in the dim light. He moved the sharpened edge along the front of Mustang's uniform, slicing off the buttons one by one as it passed. It was relatively short work, but it was nice to see the man's reaction.
He pinned Kimblee with a narrowed-eyed glare, stilling with the presence of the knife so close to his skin. He couldn't get away from it, so he wasn't about to struggle and get cut by it on accident either. The glare told the man in no uncertain terms that he was not pleased.
Kimblee wasn't really paying attention to his victim's face, by far too entranced by his handy work. All the buttons were gone in a matter of seconds, so his knife sought entry underneath the blue fabric, finding a white shirt underneath. He pressed the tip lightly against the material and looked into Mustang's eyes. "I think white is such a boring color... don't you?"
"No, I'm rather fond of it." His tone was low, like he was trying to warn him off. He remained still though, unwilling to get cut by the blade since it had already proven to be well sharpened.
"You would be, wouldn't you? Me, on the other hand, well, I do not like anything so bland as white." He snorted as he looked down at the shirt underneath his own jacket. "And I'm being hypocritical of course, but I think I have that right." He pulled the knife away and waggled it in the man's face. "I've got the weapon here. Mm, one that I find can help with that white shirt." With his free hand he spread open the folds of the colonel's jacket, smoothing it over the man's stomach. He could feel the taunt muscles through the fabric, and he had dancing visions of how they would look bruised and bleeding. At this rate he was going to do something rash... but that would be okay.
He clenched and unclenched his hands a little, pressing himself flat against the floor in an effort to avoid the unwelcome attentions. "There are different colors of white, if your eyes are keen enough."
"And not a one I care for." He nearly laughed aloud when he felt Mustang tense and try to meld with the floor. "Fear has many responses. Most easily recognized being the trembling and screaming that I'm sure everyone has experienced at some point in their lives. But there are also the more subtle ones that many look over. For instance," He pressed his hand into the alchemist's stomach, doing his best to mock a perfectly warm massage. "the one you are under. It's very humorous to see you trying to be brave, it's very... nice."
Roy couldn't stop himself from drawing a breath quickly, seeking to avoid the added contact. He followed it with a glare, since he hadn't meant to do that. "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"
Kimblee licked his bottom lip and continued working his hand along Mustang's stomach up towards his chest. When he got directly above the sternum, he pressed just enough to cause pain while looking into the man's eyes, giving his own cold glare. "Whatever makes you feel special... I'd like to think of it as a warning myself. But if you don't see what I mean, then no harm no foul."
The smaller man half closed his eyes against the pain, narrowing them. He was sensitive to certain types of pain, but that was a closely guarded secret, and he was going to keep it that way. His voice was a bit strained when he spoke. "Little attention as I paid before, I'm quite aware now."
"Ever observant are you now Mustang? Somehow I doubt that, considering your performance earlier. But it was to my advantage so big fucking deal." He put more weight into the pressing hand as he dragged himself to drape over the man's chest. "I've wasted enough time with chit chat Roy-boy. I think it's time to see just how long it will take..."
Kimblee left the rest of his thought unsaid, instead opting to cover the younger man's mouth with his own, immediately forcing his tongue between the warm lips. Roy's reaction was to bite. Yes he was more or less immobile, but he still had full control of his jaw and he wasn't loath to use it, even if he wasn't fond of the taste of blood. The reaction didn't cause the longhaired man to pull back right away as he just let the pain coursing through his tongue linger.
Kimblee’s fingers on the hand over Roy's chest found their way into the mess of raven hair and pulled hard to force the other man to open his mouth in a gasp. When he did, Kimblee moved his face further up to stare into the flame alchemist’s eyes. "Another mistake Mustang. I think I should punish you this time with something a bit more drastic."
He didn't let the other man have a chance to catch his breath before he reached between the spread thighs and gripped his crotch area roughly. With a tightening squeeze, he ground his knuckles into the sensitive area just above the shaft. The reaction was priceless. Roy’s eyes widened, and he was astonishingly soundless, digging his nails into his palms as froze entirely in place. Of course, part of that might have been because he just flat out stopped breathing for a second there.
Kimblee was more than pleased with the reaction he received. Bending just slightly, he gave a nibbling kiss to the side of Roy's mouth. "Much better. But not what I was hoping for. I'll try harder next time." His dark smile returned as he removed some of the pressure from the man's groin and he slowly began to massage the pain-laced area.
His eyes went from wide to tightly shut as he drew a deep, uneven breath, still unable to move a muscle. That hurt very much, but he didn't want to give in to it! He knew himself after all, and giving into the pain was a bad idea.
He enjoyed the expressions he got from Mustang. They were perfect and all his own. He doubted anyone else had gotten these select few he'd witnessed. He pressed more of his mouth onto the younger man's and lapped lazily. It was intoxicating, the pain and fear wafting off his victim and that just served to make him want more. He was in far to deep to just leave it as he'd planned. The grip in Roy’s hair effectively stopped any chance of him turning his head, and the hand elsewhere left him with little real desire to retaliate as he had before, so the man just forced his eyes into a narrowed stare and hissed at him.
Kimblee ignored it, taking over Mustang's mouth again before he could make any more sounds like that. It was a brief kiss, almost chaste. Then he yanked hard on the hair in his grip, pulling Mustang's head back to it's limits so he could attack the pale flesh of his neck, lips skirting the wound he'd made earlier. He was saving that sore spot for later. His hand moved along the sensitive area in slow massaging semicircles before he dragged his nails along one of the man's inner thighs.
Roy's mantra at that point turned into one of not letting himself react, and he tried to shift his leg out of horrible angle it had been put in. He'd almost made a sound that time, though what kind was uncertain.
The fabric was simply getting in his way! The damned material was just muting his efforts at drawing out the needed noises he wanted from Mustang. That simply wouldn't do. He angrily nipped at the man's neck, tailing his tongue along the jugular, then down to the open front of the blue jacket, until his teeth grabbed upon the white undershirt. It didn't stop him though, he merely made his way back to the jugular. His free hand, though, had abandoned causing reckless pain along the thigh and sought out his knife again.
Once the gleaming metal was in hand, he trailed the tip along the stomach again moving lower and lower. Roy knew the cease of the assault couldn't be any good, but when he felt the blade tracing over his clothes, he twitched a little, the tickling sensation being far out of place. The blade dipped between the meeting material of shirt and pant continuing it's journey until it was hilt deep. Kimblee smiled onto the abused neck as he turned the blade cornerwise to start slicing into both fabric and flesh. He wanted to get rid of the restrictions in his way and he'd be damned if he did it the easy way. He was going to get what he wanted from Mustang, even if he had to slice him to ribbons.
Roy drew a sharp breath, closing his eyes tightly to prevent any further sound from escaping him. It would have been shocking if he wasn't digging his nails into his palms hard enough that it would start bleeding at some point, though he hadn't applied enough pressure to cause that yet.
Kimblee’s fingers unwound from the raven tresses, giving Mustang a slight reprieve from the odd angle his head had been held in. It would work best to give the pony slight relief between the sessions of pain. He felt like ripping fistfuls but knew it wouldn’t give him the results he wanted. He wanted far more than just pitiful pain filled screams, but he was still working out just exactly he thought he would get out of this encounter other than the pure satisfaction of breaking the man's resolve.
The release of his head caused him to relax, though he hadn't wanted to. It would just make the next set that much worse, and he knew it, but the reaction was automatic. He didn't even bother to try to pry his eyes open just yet though. He still felt the touch of blade on skin.
He longhaired man’s lips softened on Mustang's neck as his tongue caressed the battered flesh. The knife was doing its job nicely, slicing fabric and cutting flesh as it worked its way along the zipper. It was a bit rough going, but once a large enough hole was evident, Kimblee withdrew the weapon, only trace it back along his victim's stomach. He worked his mouth upwards along the pale neck until he began to lap just under the man's chin, where he’d brought the blade point up to rest.
Roy cracked his eyes open a little, no longer able to keep his breath fully even as the fine cuts started to really burn on his skin. The blade was what made him be still instead of thrashing though. He wasn't going to let go of his defiance so easily, but he had no wish to die.
Kimblee left the knife resting against the hollow of Mustang's throat and pushed himself upwards. He crawled over the body to straddle the pinned man’s hips. Planting his hands on either side of his torso he grinned down at his handiwork. Red marred the normally fair skin everywhere he looked, and the bruise was becoming more pronounced against the man’s cheek. "Ah come now Mustang," He breathed huskily, "not enjoying yourself?"
Roy glared a bit with that, lifting his chin away from the blade tip a bit so he could speak without the sharp metal pricking skin. "Are you under the misconception I should be?" It was only a murmur though, as he didn't care to accidentally stab himself.
"Sarcasm is lost on the young." He mused, ignoring the question. He was amused at how careful Mustang was being around his knife. It was hilarious and all too tempting to plunge the tip into his throat. But that would end his fun too soon. Instead, he put leaned his weight onto his knees so he could slide his hands underneath the white shirt.
Roy hissed a little in reaction, the start of something that could have been a rather vocal protest, but was cut off with apparent determination. It wouldn't get him anywhere anyway. He managed an even voice, a cold one, to go with the glare. "I'm not that much younger than you."
"Details were never my strong suit Mustang," Kimblee nearly purred, pleased with his anger. He traced his fingertips along the smooth skin under the shirt, pulling it up as they went. Pale and nearly unmarked skin met his greedy eyes, causing something in the pit of his stomach to stir. He enjoyed the sight even more as he dragged the nails of one of his hands across Mustang's chest barely grazing a dark nipple in its wake.
Despite the fine layers of pain that were making his breath unstable, that action made his breath catch. He closed his eyes against it and forced himself to not react. Had to go and scratch him of all things... He was genuinely frightened he'd pick out those few strange weaknesses of his.
Even if he hadn't been a hardened observer from his years in the military service, or even his years incarcerated in the bowls of the damned lab, he would have noticed the subtle change in Mustang. It was very slight, but there none the less. It made him shudder with obvious desire to see his tactics finally garnering more than the typical reactions. Never did he expect that his ministrations would provide an insight into Mustang's character. This little quirk was worth exploring. He sank the nails of one of his hands into the man's side while the other made a trail across the chest once again.
Roy simply couldn't block that kind of pain out as effectively as the rest. It was starting to blur, and that was bad. He wanted to hang onto his resolve. Of course, that didn't stop a tiny high whine from getting past the stranglehold he was holding on himself.
Kimblee repeated the action again, this time at a slower pace. His smile held none of the warmth that it promised. "I don't understand why you fight me Mustang." He dipped his head to steal a surprisingly soft kiss. It was light and airy, with small nibbles at the edges for taste. "We both know that you won't be winning this battle."
He really had no answer for that, and his breathing was turning ragged. There hadn't been another of those sounds, but it was clear that it was picking through the resolve he'd locked onto himself... At least it was the one only. He managed to make his comeback not sound as panicked as he felt, fortunately. "Don't understand? Unfortunate that." He cracked his eyes open just far enough to peer through his lashes, hiding his eyes wit the look.
The longhaired alchemist sneered at the prone man, but didn't lash out verbally like he normally would have. His mouth resumed nibbling at Mustang's while his hands danced along the semi-bare chest in a flourish of teasing caresses. This game of his was working far better than he had hoped, but he himself was losing his hard earned resolve. Willing or not, Mustang was in for a very bad, or good, experience, depending on Kimblee's mood at the time.
Roy pretty much decided his best tactic at this point was to simply not respond. That worked for all of a second, but why the hell was Kimblee being so gentle all of a sudden? He didn't like the implications of it. He especially didn't like that the gentleness was jarring him enough that a muted whimper actually got away from him before he realized he was going to do it.
Kimblee squeezed his eyes in a pleasant growl of satisfaction. It wasn't exactly the type of noises he was specifically looking for, but it was fast becoming more preferable. A screaming Mustang couldn't compare to a whimpering one... Maybe a moaning one was a fleeting thought that almost had him chuckling in delight. Time would tell, and like he’d told the small man, he had it in spades. A palm warmed against a nipple and massaged slowly, letting the other rub along a chilled side as he contemplated his next move. He wanted so much so fast, but he refused to waste this moment. It was just too much fun.
Roy's eyes flickered fully open for a moment, and he clenched his teeth as to not make another noise. His gaze was a mix of pain, fear, defiance, and even the creeping hint of want. He swept his eyes near closed again quickly, muscles tensed to the point where he'd start to tremble if he didn't relax. He didn't like having to fight Kimblee and himself. If Kimblee would just resume hurting him, then he'd be fine, if he could be sure that the line hadn't blurred too much.
Kimblee moved himself from straddling the fellow alchemist to resting himself between the man's thighs. In that position he could effectively move his teasing nips down the throat and onto the exposed chest. He found that he enjoyed the taste of Mustang's skin as he made a path down the line of his body, veering slightly to graze just above the left nipple. It tasted of dried sweat, what he assumed to be subtle hints of his office atmosphere, and something that reminded him of books and age. It was intoxicating because it was Mustang's own. It probably would all be gone with a good shower but he enjoyed it now, to hell if it wasn't the real essence of the man.
Much as he had when Kimblee had up and bitten him in the first place, he stilled almost entirely at the feel of teeth on his skin. It was a reaction he'd picked up somewhere along the way that wasn't really helping him at the moment since the fraction more had set off the fine tremble that had been lurking in the background.
Fine beads of perspiration dotted along Kimblee's hairline from all the activity. It hadn't been particularly warm that night, and most of the earlier fighting wasn't enough to work up much of a sweat, but the sheer proximity with another warm body as well as his own growing desire managed to take care of the lack of heat surrounding them. He knew his own body was working twice as fast, pumping more blood through his veins in his heightened state of arousal. And he nearly chucked when his mind let him know that he was still in the early stages at that. But he wasn't as interested in his own body's reactions as he was Mustang's. He didn't miss the soft tremors fluttering under his tongue and touch. He quite enjoyed those and blamed them for the rather uncomfortable constriction of his clothes. It was still too soon though... he almost didn't care.
Roy snapped out of his stillness with the pause, a low growl escaping him as he twitched away from Kimblee, upwards with a jerk of his chin. He outright ignored the slight cut the blade left on the side of his neck as his sudden action sent it to skitter onto the tile.
Kimblee didn't still his exploration of taste and touch just because his prey wasn't being all to cooperative, no, he stopped because he felt the man flinch. Normally he wouldn't give two hairs about it, but since he wasn't doing anything to constitute a flinch, he paused and looked upwards. His smirk returned when he saw the slight nick, and traveled the small distance back to the throat to give it an experimental lick. "Really Mustang, if I'd known you wanted another "war" wound, I would have been happy to provide it." His voice was a husky purr as he licked the area again.
Oh and that stung like a bitch. But not in an entirely bad way. Crap. He twisted away with another growl, his own voice unreliable at this point as his breathing wasn't level anymore. He chanced it anyway, swallowing to make it as clear and steady as possible. "I'm sure."
Kimblee made a small rumbling sound against the man's throat that could have been a laugh, but it was by far too garbled. He ignored what Mustang had muttered at him, more intent to elicit something far more pleasing to his ears. It wasn't to soon after his lips left his neck that they found their way back down the man's chest... then lower. He sat up slightly to toy with the slit in the fabric of Mustang's pants where he'd sliced them earlier. He grinned more to himself as he slide a finger along the frayed edges, ripping them little by little with each pass.
That little sequence of actions led to a futile jerk at his bonds, because he very much wanted to keep himself covered. He wasn't sure how much more stimulation he could handle before he had to let something give. The muted growl returned and he glared at his tormentor as he came up short. He was very unhappy to be reminded that he was tied up when he came up short.
Kimblee idled mentally as he looked over the prone figure splayed out below him. He couldn't help but feel a small swelling of pride in his work and in the choices that led them to this point. It was like looking at some work of art and coming back with a greater understanding of what it truly was. Of course, he was no artist, nor did he ever deign to be, but it was just a particular feeling. It was also better than delving into the wrongs of just what he was getting himself into. He had choices up until this point, he could have just killed the man and gotten it over with, but somewhere along the way he'd gotten drawn into his own little game. It was just supposed to be that, a game, not this. Not something he was now aching to finish. He cursed his weaknesses and fully blamed his victim, though he couldn't really reason out how it could be the colonel's fault. But blame him he did. He had to look away from the pale skin to regain some form of composure and what he saw next caused him to chuckle.
"Well Mustang, seems I've a new idea for you. This has been fun, but I find myself itching for something a little less tame." He didn't bother explaining what he was thinking, just got to his feet slowly and ambled over to the counter.
Roy let his eyes flutter fully open, twisting his head to watch Kimblee's actions. At the very least, he wouldn't be caught off guard. Not that his guard was all that solid anymore. He took the chance to calm down his breathing and his nerves. Who knew what the man was thinking?
He bent over the counter and began to rummage through the items he'd seen littering the surface, pulling a few of them into a small pile before him. He made sure to keep his body in the way of Mustang's line of vision. He knew the man would watch him. "It’s amazing what people have just laying about." His voice was just barely above a whisper. Some of the contents were poured onto the counter's surface and mixed together. It all had taken just a few moments, and soon he was trotting his way back to the man's side. He cradled a small substance in a palm, being careful not to upset it as he got to his knees. "You being the Flame Alchemist," He began softly but there was no denying the malicious edge to his voice, "I'm sure you've been burnt a few times. Funny when you think about it." He began to smooth what was in his palm along Mustang's legs. "Because what kind of Alchemist would you be to be burned by your own element?"
Roy didn't know what was being put on his clothing, but whatever it was couldn't very well be something good if it had Kimblee so excited. He had managed to calm to an extent, taking the small reprieve to shove all unwanted sensations back, so only a keen wariness and slight fear showed with his defiance now. "One who knows it well."
Kimblee wasn't phased by the retort, he'd expected it. "Oh good. I was half expecting you to be an arrogant arse and deny you'd ever been burnt. But we both know that isn't the case." He took the last of the mixture and took agonizingly slow pains in "massaging" it around the man's groin and inner thighs. "I remember the war, as I'm sure you do as well. We both know how badly it felt to be burned. Not by the flames of course."
"You like blowing things up too damn much." It was a dark mutter, and he couldn't believe he'd actually said it aloud, but he had, and now he felt rather like he should have kept his mouth shut. He kept the thought off his face.
"Of course I do, why the hell else do you think I was lead during so many of those damned raids? What, thought it was because of my charming personality and my thirst for being number one?!" He scoffed halfheartedly, letting the poor man have his moment. "But yes... very much. It's like being God in a way. I decide who lives or dies by the flick of my hands. Rather powerful drug that I've gotten addicted to. I'm not ashamed to admit that either." He traced the untainted hand over Roy's stomach in a teasing caress. "Why can't you admit that to yourself as well then I wonder? We both know what a rush you get from your alchemy. I've seen the hunger in your eyes as you watch the flames dance. Why, then, have you never allowed yourself to give in?"
"I don't enjoy destruction." It was a growl, and he couldn't believe he was answering at all. He remembered this argument. Kimblee had always dragged him along as his second, said the fire was pretty... He didn't want to agree with him then, and he certainly didn't now. Not when he had so little control of the events already.
"No, I don't image you do. That's my department after all. You enjoy something else Mustang." He slid the unoccupied hand down the opposite leg and activated his choice of alchemy, making sure the reaction would be small and controlled. "You crave the feeling of power surging through you when you snap your fingers. You may not enjoy the destruction, but you don't deny it either. You let it happen all around you and were by my side as I cleared the way. Don't kid yourself Mustang, you're no better than I am."
So many replies to that flickered though his mind, but none of them seemed appropriate, too out of place, too revealing... far too much of an agreement... His eyes had to flicker away before returning to Kimblee. And what came out of his mouth wasn't at all what he'd decided on. "You were unnerving then, and you are now, what else was I supposed to do?" And he sounded... mad.
It was the first time, in a very long time, that Kimblee's laugh wasn't forced, instead being true. Surprisingly, it was light and warm, almost soft. He shook his head and smiled down at the man in denial. "Why be upset with me? There was plenty to do Mustang, you just chose not to see the other possibilities. You let yourself be governed by everything else and thus you've ended up being what you are now... my play thing." Well, it was more or less the truth. It was a very drastic simplification of the events and people that shaped Roy Mustang into what he was today. But Kimblee preferred his role in the development. He fancied himself as some paragon in the thick of it, but that was purely for his fantastic version of reality. He enjoyed that one the best though. In the end it did boil down to him being the one in control of Roy's life at hand. So it... more or less… is was the truth.
He couldn't say he had no wish to die, because that simply wasn't true. He had had a death wish on more than one occasion during the war, so that couldn't be used in his defense. It would be too easily shaken. He didn't like the view Kimblee had taken though, and he shook his head a little. "I'm not."
"Oh?" He wasn't all that interested in the answer. He was having too much fun pressing the man into unfamiliar and unwanted territory. Meanwhile, he wasn't interested in whatever garbage that at came from the man's mouth, he could get the real answers from his body instead. Which he fully intended to do, all he had to do was convince that keen mind that Roy was so fond of into obey itself and bend to his touch. "I think you're doing a perfect imitation then because I'm enjoying playing with you." He laughed as the first of several small flares began to snake up the fabric of the blue pressed pants. He turned his head to watch the coursing blue-green flames that danced for a few seconds before snuffing out.
Roy had had a feeling... but he'd forgotten somewhere along the way that Kimblee would be as delicate with his fireworks as he was harsh. The brief heat was enough to almost burn along his skin, and he couldn't help a little whimper. The bastard was using fire on him when he was like this and that was just completely wrong of him. Fire was his element, damn it, he was close to it, and he had no doubt the bastard remembered that.
Roy's mutterings were annoying but worth the results in the end, the small whimpers were like music to his ears. He didn't turn to look at the man though he desperately wanted to see the pain in those dark eyes. He took to sweeping his fingers through the ash and cloth left littering the legs instead. The red glared brilliantly against the waxen olive flesh. It was, in a word, beautiful. But that wasn't his style, so he merely categorized it as pleasing to the eye and touched them with great care. "Really enjoy I should say."
He tightened his hands into fists and closed his eyes on another whimpery noise. I won't react, won't won't won't! That was his new focus, as he had to let something go, so he didn't fight as hard to keep quiet. He wanted to, but he had priorities here.
"Mmm, does that hurt Mustang?" He asked quietly pressing firmly onto a particularly bright patch of red. Of course he knew it hurt, but he wanted to hear the pained answer and keep those delicious whimpers pushing forth.
Roy drew in a deep breath, refusing to open his eyes as he rather unhappily gave into the silent request. He didn't want that to feel good, and he'd keep the pain pain, even if it knocked him out!
"Refusing to answer now? That's a shame but I think I can manage to get over it. Especially," He changed his position to run his hands along the singed edges of the pants, ripping the tattered remains easily enough. "When I have other ways of getting what I want."
Roy cracked his eyes open, the rush of cold air wholly unwelcome. He was practically naked! He didn't like it at all! He took a couple deep breaths in an effort to quell the rise of panic.
Good, let the bastard be cold, he thought idly taking the time to take one of the last few items of clothing from the man. The boots weren't really needed anyway and would only get in his way. The last thing the man truly had left was those non-specific grayish boxers, and soon enough even those wouldn't be in his way. Something flitted across his face, he refused to acknowledge as lust… but it was close enough. He ran his palm up the burned leg and didn't stop until it was firmly on the man's hip, only then did he turn back to smile down. "Of course I wouldn't be opposed to verbal comment. It's more fuel for the fire"
He turned his face away, not even rewarding him by showing the bruised cheek more fully as he glared darkly, jaw clenched and hands tightly fisted. He ignored the words as much as possible, taking deep, measured breaths.
"Bravado doesn't do you any good with me, kid." What was a little insult to injury after all? He wanted Mustang mad, he wanted him fuming. It would make this all the more sweet once he had him where he wanted. And it wasn't going to be long for that to happen. Kimblee curled his fingers around the brim of the material, slowly dragging it downwards. His first reward was seeing the otherwise smooth and lustrous skin marred by a faint jagged scar, his second was the hiss he received for the efforts.
Roy flicked his eyes back to Kimblee as his air left him in a rush. He better not ask about that! The man didn't know how he got it and he didn't want him to! He twisted a little, wanting to keep that mark private. The glare he gave the other man was positively venomous. Well, at least the panic was receding in the face of the anger. He so rarely felt anger... he couldn’t let it run away with him with his element, it would eat him alive.
Kimblee was good at ignoring certain things and Roy's glare just happened to me one of them. Well, any glare really. He didn't take them to heart because more often than not, the one doing the glaring would be nothing more than stains soon afterwards. So he missed any intent the look was supposed to convey as he let his eyes drink in the sight. The fabric had since stopped being moved downwards because it seemed all that he was focusing on was that scar. He hated not knowing, and he also knew that it would almost be futile to ask, but he wanted to know. "I see we've picked up a war wound along the way... do tell me Mustang, get adventures and one of your little girls say no?"
"No." The word was flat, though not quite toneless. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again, watching Kimblee as he fought back the undercurrent of anger that had crept up on him. He couldn't afford to be angry.
Kimblee arched a brow. "No? Well, elaborate, or should I come up with some other fantastic idea?" He smirked down at the anger he seen creasing the normally calm exterior. This is what he wanted, to ruffle Mustang's cool facade and get at what he knew was truly underneath. Though, before he could get at that he needed the man to vent, to draw out of that shell he purposefully placed himself in. He was going to have fun with the process... gawds he loved messing with the norms.
"Go ahead, it's not as though you'd get it correct." Again he spoke in an almost flat tone, relaxing his clenched hands a bit with a soft exhale. He would defend his secrets. Especially this one from him of all people.
"Awww, am I hitting a nerve Mustang?" He leaned over the exposed chest to smirk into the man's face. "Why not tell me? Or is it some sorted secret that you've squirreled away from polite society? I'm not polite society after all."
This time when he growled, there was a genuine threat in there. It wasn't defensive, it was a warning that he'd bite him given the opportunity. The glare only added to the affect. He didn't like the fact that Kimblee could make him react at all. "It's none of your business."
"Might not be but I'm asking all the same. But no matter, you don't have to tell me anything. I'll eventually get it out of you or someone else." He said lazily and sat back up to resume taking those slinky little boxers off. Alright, so they weren’t slinky in any way, just some regulation type issue underwear that seemed to fit the colonel's personality. So formal and unassuming. He drifted the material slowly downward and lifted Roy's hips to slide it all the way off.
Roy twisted his wrists a little, knowing it was futile to try and get loose, but he was compelled to try anyway. He was exposed to a complete sadist. It was one of those things that tended to provide a person with ample incentive to get out of a situation. "So you think." He was the only one alive that knew how he really got that.
The boxers were presenting a small problem, well not a problem per say but they wouldn't be able to go down further since he'd pinned Mustang's legs at a painful angle. His only other option was to either cut them off, which he was leaning towards, or go back to the counter for more of his lovely concoction. "What I think and what I know are closely related in this situation Mustang. Try to remember that I have more than one way in getting information." He commented as he made his way back to the counter, tossing his braid over his shoulder with a shrugging motion. Roy was being defiant again; he'd have to stamp that out quickly.
Roy gritted his teeth a little and tipped his head, following him with the glare. It made his eyes go from near black to pitch. His defiance was rekindling, but he really didn't care anymore, for the moment satisfied he knew something that Kimblee wouldn't.
It had been an idle curiosity about the fellow alchemist, his eating habits that were. Why? He didn't honestly know, but for some reason he wondered about them. The kitchen looked barely in use, and the poor boy was a bit on the thin side. But that was hypocritical because he wasn't exactly a healthy weight either. Of course, his could be explained away by his constant activity during the war and well after the it, and during the laboratory... well, that was best just left to be wondered about rather than actually giving his time in that hell hole credence. The musing, however, was sparked by the lone thin stoppered, practically full, glass container of olive oil sitting just to the left of the stove. He palmed it and a small portion of the needed ingredients before heading back to the bound figure.
Roy watched him unwaveringly, twisting as much as he could to follow his movements in silence. He didn't want to find out what the man was planning. He didn't want to be tied down. And he sure and the hell didn’t want the knowledge that him being in this position was totally and utterly his own fault. So he glared, ire near the surface.
Onto the last part of the chapter!
Violent Leisure
Chapter one- part two
Roy let his head thump back to the tile, and he was visibly cursing himself. He must have been tired to have overlooked something so glaringly obvious when he'd returned home that night. He'd been so busy trying to deal with the Elric fall out and to plan for the inquiry over the damages that he hadn't been able to focus on something as painfully simple as asking what the hell an escaped convict wanted.
Kimblee chuckled darkly and gripped the smaller man's chin, yanking downward roughly. "You've grown soft, weak, since the war. How the hell did you even survive? You don't have what it takes to survive... Damn that Hawkeye bitch. She should have let you die. You aren't worth the pri. . ." He had to stop himself. Mustang was possibly worth the price, if only to be used and abused. When the hell did he get so lecherous? "Mm I believe you have your uses, but I'll be damned if I can think of one that is focused outside the bedroom."
Roy hissed out a breath, snapping back to the moment instead of beating himself up like he'd been a moment before, and he jerked his chin away. "Then apparently you have no reason to be here, do you?"
"Other than finding my fun, you mean?" He made sure that his voice veritably dripped with acidic sarcasm. Sometimes Mustang was just too thick for his own good. "I haven’t quite gotten what I came for, now have I? You haven't given me what I want, nor have I taken it. So I believe we have some unfinished business."
Roy glared up at him, trying to see if he had any slack at all in his new bindings. "You don't care about the information anymore, do you." It was flat, not really a question.
Kimblee pressed himself back into place atop Mustang's body and bent close to the pale face. "No." And it's all your fault was left hanging in the air between them. It was all the pony's fault and there wasn't anything that could be done about it... at least not by the bound alchemist. The only thing that would save him, it seemed, was someone wandering over, but Kimblee's informant had given ample schedules of any and all of Mustang's regular visitors... even a few of the irregular ones.
Roy curled his fists and stared back at him, the unspoken words as obvious as if they'd been shouted in his face. That didn't mean he would struggle any less if he persisted in carrying through, of course, but there'd always be this niggling that said he did it to himself. "And there's no changing your mind."
Oh, the pony wanted to negotiate did he? Well, it wasn't a first per say, but it was interesting. Kimblee propped an elbow on the man's chest and leaned his head into the opened palm. "And just how can you change my mind?" It wasn't going to help the alchemist in any way, but he felt like humoring some false hope before crushing it swiftly with the painful reminder of just who was in charge of this situation.
Alright, that might have been completely futile, especially as he could come up with a sum total of nothing in reply to that question. He was pinned down and tied up, this didn't give him options. "I was rather hoping you'd tell me."
"Heh, sorry but the cold hard truth is you can't. No, I'm enjoying this little diversion." He moved his face right along side the bruised area on the colonel's cheek, licking the area teasingly. "You were doomed from the beginning."
Roy leaned away from the action quickly, glaring. "Well, I've never taken to being doomed very well." Somewhere in there he'd apparently dragged his resolve back together.
"No, you don't seem the type." The man mumbled as he continued exploring the warmed area with his tongue. Bruises tasted different from undamaged areas. Maybe it was the pooling blood just below the surface of the skin that made it so appealing? Kimblee didn't really care about that at the moment since all he cared about was getting his prize for winning this perceived challenge. If he wanted to do that, he would have to step up his assault tactics. "But you'll learn. I have all the time in the world to make this punishment last Mustang. Do you think you can outlast me?"
"Nobody has all the time in the world." He twisted more fully away from the unwelcome attention to the bruise. Then he started to gauge what bits of himself he had to work with.
"You seem to think I have something pressing to occupy my time, Mustang." He spat the words bitterly into the man's ear. A moment later he sank long fingers into the thick raven hair and yanked Mustang's head back towards his mouth. "I wasn't done quite yet. Do not move again or this will become more painful for you." He was going to do this the hard way by the looks of it, because he knew Mustang had some fight still left in him. His one true goal, at the moment he let himself be pulled into this little game, was to make those vibrantly expressive eyes turn dull and listless. He wanted to hear the man's pain filled screams fill the darkened room around them and echo off the walls. In time he would get them. How long it would take depended on how much the Flame alchemist could take.
Of course, the hair pulling was met with a small jerk of resistance, but not enough for the man to actually rip out his own hair. He growled a little. "I'll never understand your fascination for pain."
"I have an interesting relationship with pain. One that took years to cultivate. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Mustang?" Kimblee seemed to loose interest in what he'd been doing after that statement. Releasing the hair he moved to the floor beside the prone body. "You'll be on the utmost intimate terms with it shortly, so don't fret about that."
It was time to completely immobilize his little pet project. No sense in loosing what he'd gained by letting the man have some leeway. It just wouldn't do, no, not at all. He set about binding Mustang's legs far enough apart that the ache would soon set in if there wasn't any movement for the muscles. Roy didn't exactly make it easy of course, obviously not caring for the idea of being even less in control. Having his arms over his head was bad enough. Despite his resolve, Roy didn't even manage to land a decent kick. He could only be grateful he was still fully dressed.
"Disgraceful," was muttered to no one in particular as Kimblee finished preparing Mustang in the pose he thought best suited the man. It was so deliciously simple that it ached to be done. He idly wondered why no one had done this before him. The man was just too easy to read. And he knew for a fact that it hadn't been the case, why else would this startle the poor boy so much? It made him smirk all the wider. When he'd gauged himself able to continue in a completely pedagogue role without the worries of sinking further in before it was time... he turned back to the bound man and crawled up to his side. "You've been nothing but a pain since the first time I met you Mustang. I didn't think much of you then, only how I could use you best as a lovely firework of mine. But now I know I should have paid more attention. You'd have been quite the entertainment back then, even as you are now."
"I'm not a toy Crimson." He didn't have any speeches. The sheer lack of options that he had right now was starting to get to him, and he was more intent on calming down before unwillingly yielding to the man's apparent wishes. He'd been tied up before, he was calm then, so why the hell was Kimblee scaring him so much now?
Kimblee chuckled humorlessly. "Ah but that is where you are wrong Mustang. I think you're a perfect little plaything, and I seem to be having more fun with you like this than anyone should. Somehow, I thought you'd be honored." Dark humor suited him, but he doubted it suited the idiot before him. Just something to do, really it was. But this was turning into something more than that. He was enjoying toying with the man but knew he'd have to finish soon. He may have boasted about having all the time in the world, but that simply wasn't the case. He knew someone would eventually come looking for the colonel. He also needed to leave the city soon otherwise someone might figure out he was still alive. The question was whether to let the pony live, or to put him out of his own misery.
Roy clenched his fists and took a deep breath, a twisted parody of a smile flitting over his face. He'd come to be rather fond of dark humor over the years. One had to when faced with the Elric boys regularly. "If you think of it that way, are you sure it shouldn't be the other way around?" He tested his leg bonds unhappily.
"Getting brave are we?" He asked gruffly while retrieving a small pocketknife from the inside pocket of his jacket. No more than a three-inch blade, and a total of six inches fully extended, the black and gray knife gleamed in the dim light. He moved the sharpened edge along the front of Mustang's uniform, slicing off the buttons one by one as it passed. It was relatively short work, but it was nice to see the man's reaction.
He pinned Kimblee with a narrowed-eyed glare, stilling with the presence of the knife so close to his skin. He couldn't get away from it, so he wasn't about to struggle and get cut by it on accident either. The glare told the man in no uncertain terms that he was not pleased.
Kimblee wasn't really paying attention to his victim's face, by far too entranced by his handy work. All the buttons were gone in a matter of seconds, so his knife sought entry underneath the blue fabric, finding a white shirt underneath. He pressed the tip lightly against the material and looked into Mustang's eyes. "I think white is such a boring color... don't you?"
"No, I'm rather fond of it." His tone was low, like he was trying to warn him off. He remained still though, unwilling to get cut by the blade since it had already proven to be well sharpened.
"You would be, wouldn't you? Me, on the other hand, well, I do not like anything so bland as white." He snorted as he looked down at the shirt underneath his own jacket. "And I'm being hypocritical of course, but I think I have that right." He pulled the knife away and waggled it in the man's face. "I've got the weapon here. Mm, one that I find can help with that white shirt." With his free hand he spread open the folds of the colonel's jacket, smoothing it over the man's stomach. He could feel the taunt muscles through the fabric, and he had dancing visions of how they would look bruised and bleeding. At this rate he was going to do something rash... but that would be okay.
He clenched and unclenched his hands a little, pressing himself flat against the floor in an effort to avoid the unwelcome attentions. "There are different colors of white, if your eyes are keen enough."
"And not a one I care for." He nearly laughed aloud when he felt Mustang tense and try to meld with the floor. "Fear has many responses. Most easily recognized being the trembling and screaming that I'm sure everyone has experienced at some point in their lives. But there are also the more subtle ones that many look over. For instance," He pressed his hand into the alchemist's stomach, doing his best to mock a perfectly warm massage. "the one you are under. It's very humorous to see you trying to be brave, it's very... nice."
Roy couldn't stop himself from drawing a breath quickly, seeking to avoid the added contact. He followed it with a glare, since he hadn't meant to do that. "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"
Kimblee licked his bottom lip and continued working his hand along Mustang's stomach up towards his chest. When he got directly above the sternum, he pressed just enough to cause pain while looking into the man's eyes, giving his own cold glare. "Whatever makes you feel special... I'd like to think of it as a warning myself. But if you don't see what I mean, then no harm no foul."
The smaller man half closed his eyes against the pain, narrowing them. He was sensitive to certain types of pain, but that was a closely guarded secret, and he was going to keep it that way. His voice was a bit strained when he spoke. "Little attention as I paid before, I'm quite aware now."
"Ever observant are you now Mustang? Somehow I doubt that, considering your performance earlier. But it was to my advantage so big fucking deal." He put more weight into the pressing hand as he dragged himself to drape over the man's chest. "I've wasted enough time with chit chat Roy-boy. I think it's time to see just how long it will take..."
Kimblee left the rest of his thought unsaid, instead opting to cover the younger man's mouth with his own, immediately forcing his tongue between the warm lips. Roy's reaction was to bite. Yes he was more or less immobile, but he still had full control of his jaw and he wasn't loath to use it, even if he wasn't fond of the taste of blood. The reaction didn't cause the longhaired man to pull back right away as he just let the pain coursing through his tongue linger.
Kimblee’s fingers on the hand over Roy's chest found their way into the mess of raven hair and pulled hard to force the other man to open his mouth in a gasp. When he did, Kimblee moved his face further up to stare into the flame alchemist’s eyes. "Another mistake Mustang. I think I should punish you this time with something a bit more drastic."
He didn't let the other man have a chance to catch his breath before he reached between the spread thighs and gripped his crotch area roughly. With a tightening squeeze, he ground his knuckles into the sensitive area just above the shaft. The reaction was priceless. Roy’s eyes widened, and he was astonishingly soundless, digging his nails into his palms as froze entirely in place. Of course, part of that might have been because he just flat out stopped breathing for a second there.
Kimblee was more than pleased with the reaction he received. Bending just slightly, he gave a nibbling kiss to the side of Roy's mouth. "Much better. But not what I was hoping for. I'll try harder next time." His dark smile returned as he removed some of the pressure from the man's groin and he slowly began to massage the pain-laced area.
His eyes went from wide to tightly shut as he drew a deep, uneven breath, still unable to move a muscle. That hurt very much, but he didn't want to give in to it! He knew himself after all, and giving into the pain was a bad idea.
He enjoyed the expressions he got from Mustang. They were perfect and all his own. He doubted anyone else had gotten these select few he'd witnessed. He pressed more of his mouth onto the younger man's and lapped lazily. It was intoxicating, the pain and fear wafting off his victim and that just served to make him want more. He was in far to deep to just leave it as he'd planned. The grip in Roy’s hair effectively stopped any chance of him turning his head, and the hand elsewhere left him with little real desire to retaliate as he had before, so the man just forced his eyes into a narrowed stare and hissed at him.
Kimblee ignored it, taking over Mustang's mouth again before he could make any more sounds like that. It was a brief kiss, almost chaste. Then he yanked hard on the hair in his grip, pulling Mustang's head back to it's limits so he could attack the pale flesh of his neck, lips skirting the wound he'd made earlier. He was saving that sore spot for later. His hand moved along the sensitive area in slow massaging semicircles before he dragged his nails along one of the man's inner thighs.
Roy's mantra at that point turned into one of not letting himself react, and he tried to shift his leg out of horrible angle it had been put in. He'd almost made a sound that time, though what kind was uncertain.
The fabric was simply getting in his way! The damned material was just muting his efforts at drawing out the needed noises he wanted from Mustang. That simply wouldn't do. He angrily nipped at the man's neck, tailing his tongue along the jugular, then down to the open front of the blue jacket, until his teeth grabbed upon the white undershirt. It didn't stop him though, he merely made his way back to the jugular. His free hand, though, had abandoned causing reckless pain along the thigh and sought out his knife again.
Once the gleaming metal was in hand, he trailed the tip along the stomach again moving lower and lower. Roy knew the cease of the assault couldn't be any good, but when he felt the blade tracing over his clothes, he twitched a little, the tickling sensation being far out of place. The blade dipped between the meeting material of shirt and pant continuing it's journey until it was hilt deep. Kimblee smiled onto the abused neck as he turned the blade cornerwise to start slicing into both fabric and flesh. He wanted to get rid of the restrictions in his way and he'd be damned if he did it the easy way. He was going to get what he wanted from Mustang, even if he had to slice him to ribbons.
Roy drew a sharp breath, closing his eyes tightly to prevent any further sound from escaping him. It would have been shocking if he wasn't digging his nails into his palms hard enough that it would start bleeding at some point, though he hadn't applied enough pressure to cause that yet.
Kimblee’s fingers unwound from the raven tresses, giving Mustang a slight reprieve from the odd angle his head had been held in. It would work best to give the pony slight relief between the sessions of pain. He felt like ripping fistfuls but knew it wouldn’t give him the results he wanted. He wanted far more than just pitiful pain filled screams, but he was still working out just exactly he thought he would get out of this encounter other than the pure satisfaction of breaking the man's resolve.
The release of his head caused him to relax, though he hadn't wanted to. It would just make the next set that much worse, and he knew it, but the reaction was automatic. He didn't even bother to try to pry his eyes open just yet though. He still felt the touch of blade on skin.
He longhaired man’s lips softened on Mustang's neck as his tongue caressed the battered flesh. The knife was doing its job nicely, slicing fabric and cutting flesh as it worked its way along the zipper. It was a bit rough going, but once a large enough hole was evident, Kimblee withdrew the weapon, only trace it back along his victim's stomach. He worked his mouth upwards along the pale neck until he began to lap just under the man's chin, where he’d brought the blade point up to rest.
Roy cracked his eyes open a little, no longer able to keep his breath fully even as the fine cuts started to really burn on his skin. The blade was what made him be still instead of thrashing though. He wasn't going to let go of his defiance so easily, but he had no wish to die.
Kimblee left the knife resting against the hollow of Mustang's throat and pushed himself upwards. He crawled over the body to straddle the pinned man’s hips. Planting his hands on either side of his torso he grinned down at his handiwork. Red marred the normally fair skin everywhere he looked, and the bruise was becoming more pronounced against the man’s cheek. "Ah come now Mustang," He breathed huskily, "not enjoying yourself?"
Roy glared a bit with that, lifting his chin away from the blade tip a bit so he could speak without the sharp metal pricking skin. "Are you under the misconception I should be?" It was only a murmur though, as he didn't care to accidentally stab himself.
"Sarcasm is lost on the young." He mused, ignoring the question. He was amused at how careful Mustang was being around his knife. It was hilarious and all too tempting to plunge the tip into his throat. But that would end his fun too soon. Instead, he put leaned his weight onto his knees so he could slide his hands underneath the white shirt.
Roy hissed a little in reaction, the start of something that could have been a rather vocal protest, but was cut off with apparent determination. It wouldn't get him anywhere anyway. He managed an even voice, a cold one, to go with the glare. "I'm not that much younger than you."
"Details were never my strong suit Mustang," Kimblee nearly purred, pleased with his anger. He traced his fingertips along the smooth skin under the shirt, pulling it up as they went. Pale and nearly unmarked skin met his greedy eyes, causing something in the pit of his stomach to stir. He enjoyed the sight even more as he dragged the nails of one of his hands across Mustang's chest barely grazing a dark nipple in its wake.
Despite the fine layers of pain that were making his breath unstable, that action made his breath catch. He closed his eyes against it and forced himself to not react. Had to go and scratch him of all things... He was genuinely frightened he'd pick out those few strange weaknesses of his.
Even if he hadn't been a hardened observer from his years in the military service, or even his years incarcerated in the bowls of the damned lab, he would have noticed the subtle change in Mustang. It was very slight, but there none the less. It made him shudder with obvious desire to see his tactics finally garnering more than the typical reactions. Never did he expect that his ministrations would provide an insight into Mustang's character. This little quirk was worth exploring. He sank the nails of one of his hands into the man's side while the other made a trail across the chest once again.
Roy simply couldn't block that kind of pain out as effectively as the rest. It was starting to blur, and that was bad. He wanted to hang onto his resolve. Of course, that didn't stop a tiny high whine from getting past the stranglehold he was holding on himself.
Kimblee repeated the action again, this time at a slower pace. His smile held none of the warmth that it promised. "I don't understand why you fight me Mustang." He dipped his head to steal a surprisingly soft kiss. It was light and airy, with small nibbles at the edges for taste. "We both know that you won't be winning this battle."
He really had no answer for that, and his breathing was turning ragged. There hadn't been another of those sounds, but it was clear that it was picking through the resolve he'd locked onto himself... At least it was the one only. He managed to make his comeback not sound as panicked as he felt, fortunately. "Don't understand? Unfortunate that." He cracked his eyes open just far enough to peer through his lashes, hiding his eyes wit the look.
The longhaired alchemist sneered at the prone man, but didn't lash out verbally like he normally would have. His mouth resumed nibbling at Mustang's while his hands danced along the semi-bare chest in a flourish of teasing caresses. This game of his was working far better than he had hoped, but he himself was losing his hard earned resolve. Willing or not, Mustang was in for a very bad, or good, experience, depending on Kimblee's mood at the time.
Roy pretty much decided his best tactic at this point was to simply not respond. That worked for all of a second, but why the hell was Kimblee being so gentle all of a sudden? He didn't like the implications of it. He especially didn't like that the gentleness was jarring him enough that a muted whimper actually got away from him before he realized he was going to do it.
Kimblee squeezed his eyes in a pleasant growl of satisfaction. It wasn't exactly the type of noises he was specifically looking for, but it was fast becoming more preferable. A screaming Mustang couldn't compare to a whimpering one... Maybe a moaning one was a fleeting thought that almost had him chuckling in delight. Time would tell, and like he’d told the small man, he had it in spades. A palm warmed against a nipple and massaged slowly, letting the other rub along a chilled side as he contemplated his next move. He wanted so much so fast, but he refused to waste this moment. It was just too much fun.
Roy's eyes flickered fully open for a moment, and he clenched his teeth as to not make another noise. His gaze was a mix of pain, fear, defiance, and even the creeping hint of want. He swept his eyes near closed again quickly, muscles tensed to the point where he'd start to tremble if he didn't relax. He didn't like having to fight Kimblee and himself. If Kimblee would just resume hurting him, then he'd be fine, if he could be sure that the line hadn't blurred too much.
Kimblee moved himself from straddling the fellow alchemist to resting himself between the man's thighs. In that position he could effectively move his teasing nips down the throat and onto the exposed chest. He found that he enjoyed the taste of Mustang's skin as he made a path down the line of his body, veering slightly to graze just above the left nipple. It tasted of dried sweat, what he assumed to be subtle hints of his office atmosphere, and something that reminded him of books and age. It was intoxicating because it was Mustang's own. It probably would all be gone with a good shower but he enjoyed it now, to hell if it wasn't the real essence of the man.
Much as he had when Kimblee had up and bitten him in the first place, he stilled almost entirely at the feel of teeth on his skin. It was a reaction he'd picked up somewhere along the way that wasn't really helping him at the moment since the fraction more had set off the fine tremble that had been lurking in the background.
Fine beads of perspiration dotted along Kimblee's hairline from all the activity. It hadn't been particularly warm that night, and most of the earlier fighting wasn't enough to work up much of a sweat, but the sheer proximity with another warm body as well as his own growing desire managed to take care of the lack of heat surrounding them. He knew his own body was working twice as fast, pumping more blood through his veins in his heightened state of arousal. And he nearly chucked when his mind let him know that he was still in the early stages at that. But he wasn't as interested in his own body's reactions as he was Mustang's. He didn't miss the soft tremors fluttering under his tongue and touch. He quite enjoyed those and blamed them for the rather uncomfortable constriction of his clothes. It was still too soon though... he almost didn't care.
Roy snapped out of his stillness with the pause, a low growl escaping him as he twitched away from Kimblee, upwards with a jerk of his chin. He outright ignored the slight cut the blade left on the side of his neck as his sudden action sent it to skitter onto the tile.
Kimblee didn't still his exploration of taste and touch just because his prey wasn't being all to cooperative, no, he stopped because he felt the man flinch. Normally he wouldn't give two hairs about it, but since he wasn't doing anything to constitute a flinch, he paused and looked upwards. His smirk returned when he saw the slight nick, and traveled the small distance back to the throat to give it an experimental lick. "Really Mustang, if I'd known you wanted another "war" wound, I would have been happy to provide it." His voice was a husky purr as he licked the area again.
Oh and that stung like a bitch. But not in an entirely bad way. Crap. He twisted away with another growl, his own voice unreliable at this point as his breathing wasn't level anymore. He chanced it anyway, swallowing to make it as clear and steady as possible. "I'm sure."
Kimblee made a small rumbling sound against the man's throat that could have been a laugh, but it was by far too garbled. He ignored what Mustang had muttered at him, more intent to elicit something far more pleasing to his ears. It wasn't to soon after his lips left his neck that they found their way back down the man's chest... then lower. He sat up slightly to toy with the slit in the fabric of Mustang's pants where he'd sliced them earlier. He grinned more to himself as he slide a finger along the frayed edges, ripping them little by little with each pass.
That little sequence of actions led to a futile jerk at his bonds, because he very much wanted to keep himself covered. He wasn't sure how much more stimulation he could handle before he had to let something give. The muted growl returned and he glared at his tormentor as he came up short. He was very unhappy to be reminded that he was tied up when he came up short.
Kimblee idled mentally as he looked over the prone figure splayed out below him. He couldn't help but feel a small swelling of pride in his work and in the choices that led them to this point. It was like looking at some work of art and coming back with a greater understanding of what it truly was. Of course, he was no artist, nor did he ever deign to be, but it was just a particular feeling. It was also better than delving into the wrongs of just what he was getting himself into. He had choices up until this point, he could have just killed the man and gotten it over with, but somewhere along the way he'd gotten drawn into his own little game. It was just supposed to be that, a game, not this. Not something he was now aching to finish. He cursed his weaknesses and fully blamed his victim, though he couldn't really reason out how it could be the colonel's fault. But blame him he did. He had to look away from the pale skin to regain some form of composure and what he saw next caused him to chuckle.
"Well Mustang, seems I've a new idea for you. This has been fun, but I find myself itching for something a little less tame." He didn't bother explaining what he was thinking, just got to his feet slowly and ambled over to the counter.
Roy let his eyes flutter fully open, twisting his head to watch Kimblee's actions. At the very least, he wouldn't be caught off guard. Not that his guard was all that solid anymore. He took the chance to calm down his breathing and his nerves. Who knew what the man was thinking?
He bent over the counter and began to rummage through the items he'd seen littering the surface, pulling a few of them into a small pile before him. He made sure to keep his body in the way of Mustang's line of vision. He knew the man would watch him. "It’s amazing what people have just laying about." His voice was just barely above a whisper. Some of the contents were poured onto the counter's surface and mixed together. It all had taken just a few moments, and soon he was trotting his way back to the man's side. He cradled a small substance in a palm, being careful not to upset it as he got to his knees. "You being the Flame Alchemist," He began softly but there was no denying the malicious edge to his voice, "I'm sure you've been burnt a few times. Funny when you think about it." He began to smooth what was in his palm along Mustang's legs. "Because what kind of Alchemist would you be to be burned by your own element?"
Roy didn't know what was being put on his clothing, but whatever it was couldn't very well be something good if it had Kimblee so excited. He had managed to calm to an extent, taking the small reprieve to shove all unwanted sensations back, so only a keen wariness and slight fear showed with his defiance now. "One who knows it well."
Kimblee wasn't phased by the retort, he'd expected it. "Oh good. I was half expecting you to be an arrogant arse and deny you'd ever been burnt. But we both know that isn't the case." He took the last of the mixture and took agonizingly slow pains in "massaging" it around the man's groin and inner thighs. "I remember the war, as I'm sure you do as well. We both know how badly it felt to be burned. Not by the flames of course."
"You like blowing things up too damn much." It was a dark mutter, and he couldn't believe he'd actually said it aloud, but he had, and now he felt rather like he should have kept his mouth shut. He kept the thought off his face.
"Of course I do, why the hell else do you think I was lead during so many of those damned raids? What, thought it was because of my charming personality and my thirst for being number one?!" He scoffed halfheartedly, letting the poor man have his moment. "But yes... very much. It's like being God in a way. I decide who lives or dies by the flick of my hands. Rather powerful drug that I've gotten addicted to. I'm not ashamed to admit that either." He traced the untainted hand over Roy's stomach in a teasing caress. "Why can't you admit that to yourself as well then I wonder? We both know what a rush you get from your alchemy. I've seen the hunger in your eyes as you watch the flames dance. Why, then, have you never allowed yourself to give in?"
"I don't enjoy destruction." It was a growl, and he couldn't believe he was answering at all. He remembered this argument. Kimblee had always dragged him along as his second, said the fire was pretty... He didn't want to agree with him then, and he certainly didn't now. Not when he had so little control of the events already.
"No, I don't image you do. That's my department after all. You enjoy something else Mustang." He slid the unoccupied hand down the opposite leg and activated his choice of alchemy, making sure the reaction would be small and controlled. "You crave the feeling of power surging through you when you snap your fingers. You may not enjoy the destruction, but you don't deny it either. You let it happen all around you and were by my side as I cleared the way. Don't kid yourself Mustang, you're no better than I am."
So many replies to that flickered though his mind, but none of them seemed appropriate, too out of place, too revealing... far too much of an agreement... His eyes had to flicker away before returning to Kimblee. And what came out of his mouth wasn't at all what he'd decided on. "You were unnerving then, and you are now, what else was I supposed to do?" And he sounded... mad.
It was the first time, in a very long time, that Kimblee's laugh wasn't forced, instead being true. Surprisingly, it was light and warm, almost soft. He shook his head and smiled down at the man in denial. "Why be upset with me? There was plenty to do Mustang, you just chose not to see the other possibilities. You let yourself be governed by everything else and thus you've ended up being what you are now... my play thing." Well, it was more or less the truth. It was a very drastic simplification of the events and people that shaped Roy Mustang into what he was today. But Kimblee preferred his role in the development. He fancied himself as some paragon in the thick of it, but that was purely for his fantastic version of reality. He enjoyed that one the best though. In the end it did boil down to him being the one in control of Roy's life at hand. So it... more or less… is was the truth.
He couldn't say he had no wish to die, because that simply wasn't true. He had had a death wish on more than one occasion during the war, so that couldn't be used in his defense. It would be too easily shaken. He didn't like the view Kimblee had taken though, and he shook his head a little. "I'm not."
"Oh?" He wasn't all that interested in the answer. He was having too much fun pressing the man into unfamiliar and unwanted territory. Meanwhile, he wasn't interested in whatever garbage that at came from the man's mouth, he could get the real answers from his body instead. Which he fully intended to do, all he had to do was convince that keen mind that Roy was so fond of into obey itself and bend to his touch. "I think you're doing a perfect imitation then because I'm enjoying playing with you." He laughed as the first of several small flares began to snake up the fabric of the blue pressed pants. He turned his head to watch the coursing blue-green flames that danced for a few seconds before snuffing out.
Roy had had a feeling... but he'd forgotten somewhere along the way that Kimblee would be as delicate with his fireworks as he was harsh. The brief heat was enough to almost burn along his skin, and he couldn't help a little whimper. The bastard was using fire on him when he was like this and that was just completely wrong of him. Fire was his element, damn it, he was close to it, and he had no doubt the bastard remembered that.
Roy's mutterings were annoying but worth the results in the end, the small whimpers were like music to his ears. He didn't turn to look at the man though he desperately wanted to see the pain in those dark eyes. He took to sweeping his fingers through the ash and cloth left littering the legs instead. The red glared brilliantly against the waxen olive flesh. It was, in a word, beautiful. But that wasn't his style, so he merely categorized it as pleasing to the eye and touched them with great care. "Really enjoy I should say."
He tightened his hands into fists and closed his eyes on another whimpery noise. I won't react, won't won't won't! That was his new focus, as he had to let something go, so he didn't fight as hard to keep quiet. He wanted to, but he had priorities here.
"Mmm, does that hurt Mustang?" He asked quietly pressing firmly onto a particularly bright patch of red. Of course he knew it hurt, but he wanted to hear the pained answer and keep those delicious whimpers pushing forth.
Roy drew in a deep breath, refusing to open his eyes as he rather unhappily gave into the silent request. He didn't want that to feel good, and he'd keep the pain pain, even if it knocked him out!
"Refusing to answer now? That's a shame but I think I can manage to get over it. Especially," He changed his position to run his hands along the singed edges of the pants, ripping the tattered remains easily enough. "When I have other ways of getting what I want."
Roy cracked his eyes open, the rush of cold air wholly unwelcome. He was practically naked! He didn't like it at all! He took a couple deep breaths in an effort to quell the rise of panic.
Good, let the bastard be cold, he thought idly taking the time to take one of the last few items of clothing from the man. The boots weren't really needed anyway and would only get in his way. The last thing the man truly had left was those non-specific grayish boxers, and soon enough even those wouldn't be in his way. Something flitted across his face, he refused to acknowledge as lust… but it was close enough. He ran his palm up the burned leg and didn't stop until it was firmly on the man's hip, only then did he turn back to smile down. "Of course I wouldn't be opposed to verbal comment. It's more fuel for the fire"
He turned his face away, not even rewarding him by showing the bruised cheek more fully as he glared darkly, jaw clenched and hands tightly fisted. He ignored the words as much as possible, taking deep, measured breaths.
"Bravado doesn't do you any good with me, kid." What was a little insult to injury after all? He wanted Mustang mad, he wanted him fuming. It would make this all the more sweet once he had him where he wanted. And it wasn't going to be long for that to happen. Kimblee curled his fingers around the brim of the material, slowly dragging it downwards. His first reward was seeing the otherwise smooth and lustrous skin marred by a faint jagged scar, his second was the hiss he received for the efforts.
Roy flicked his eyes back to Kimblee as his air left him in a rush. He better not ask about that! The man didn't know how he got it and he didn't want him to! He twisted a little, wanting to keep that mark private. The glare he gave the other man was positively venomous. Well, at least the panic was receding in the face of the anger. He so rarely felt anger... he couldn’t let it run away with him with his element, it would eat him alive.
Kimblee was good at ignoring certain things and Roy's glare just happened to me one of them. Well, any glare really. He didn't take them to heart because more often than not, the one doing the glaring would be nothing more than stains soon afterwards. So he missed any intent the look was supposed to convey as he let his eyes drink in the sight. The fabric had since stopped being moved downwards because it seemed all that he was focusing on was that scar. He hated not knowing, and he also knew that it would almost be futile to ask, but he wanted to know. "I see we've picked up a war wound along the way... do tell me Mustang, get adventures and one of your little girls say no?"
"No." The word was flat, though not quite toneless. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again, watching Kimblee as he fought back the undercurrent of anger that had crept up on him. He couldn't afford to be angry.
Kimblee arched a brow. "No? Well, elaborate, or should I come up with some other fantastic idea?" He smirked down at the anger he seen creasing the normally calm exterior. This is what he wanted, to ruffle Mustang's cool facade and get at what he knew was truly underneath. Though, before he could get at that he needed the man to vent, to draw out of that shell he purposefully placed himself in. He was going to have fun with the process... gawds he loved messing with the norms.
"Go ahead, it's not as though you'd get it correct." Again he spoke in an almost flat tone, relaxing his clenched hands a bit with a soft exhale. He would defend his secrets. Especially this one from him of all people.
"Awww, am I hitting a nerve Mustang?" He leaned over the exposed chest to smirk into the man's face. "Why not tell me? Or is it some sorted secret that you've squirreled away from polite society? I'm not polite society after all."
This time when he growled, there was a genuine threat in there. It wasn't defensive, it was a warning that he'd bite him given the opportunity. The glare only added to the affect. He didn't like the fact that Kimblee could make him react at all. "It's none of your business."
"Might not be but I'm asking all the same. But no matter, you don't have to tell me anything. I'll eventually get it out of you or someone else." He said lazily and sat back up to resume taking those slinky little boxers off. Alright, so they weren’t slinky in any way, just some regulation type issue underwear that seemed to fit the colonel's personality. So formal and unassuming. He drifted the material slowly downward and lifted Roy's hips to slide it all the way off.
Roy twisted his wrists a little, knowing it was futile to try and get loose, but he was compelled to try anyway. He was exposed to a complete sadist. It was one of those things that tended to provide a person with ample incentive to get out of a situation. "So you think." He was the only one alive that knew how he really got that.
The boxers were presenting a small problem, well not a problem per say but they wouldn't be able to go down further since he'd pinned Mustang's legs at a painful angle. His only other option was to either cut them off, which he was leaning towards, or go back to the counter for more of his lovely concoction. "What I think and what I know are closely related in this situation Mustang. Try to remember that I have more than one way in getting information." He commented as he made his way back to the counter, tossing his braid over his shoulder with a shrugging motion. Roy was being defiant again; he'd have to stamp that out quickly.
Roy gritted his teeth a little and tipped his head, following him with the glare. It made his eyes go from near black to pitch. His defiance was rekindling, but he really didn't care anymore, for the moment satisfied he knew something that Kimblee wouldn't.
It had been an idle curiosity about the fellow alchemist, his eating habits that were. Why? He didn't honestly know, but for some reason he wondered about them. The kitchen looked barely in use, and the poor boy was a bit on the thin side. But that was hypocritical because he wasn't exactly a healthy weight either. Of course, his could be explained away by his constant activity during the war and well after the it, and during the laboratory... well, that was best just left to be wondered about rather than actually giving his time in that hell hole credence. The musing, however, was sparked by the lone thin stoppered, practically full, glass container of olive oil sitting just to the left of the stove. He palmed it and a small portion of the needed ingredients before heading back to the bound figure.
Roy watched him unwaveringly, twisting as much as he could to follow his movements in silence. He didn't want to find out what the man was planning. He didn't want to be tied down. And he sure and the hell didn’t want the knowledge that him being in this position was totally and utterly his own fault. So he glared, ire near the surface.
Onto the last part of the chapter!