AN: Event: Roy/Ed Week, Day 4- Gloves.

Enjoy!

Lt. Colonel Edward Elric wanted to smack his head into his desk. He swore that fuckin' Brigadier General Roy Mustang was put on this fuckin' Earth to fuckin' torture him. That could be only explanation of his current uncomfortable predicament. Shifting in his seat, Edward leaned his hand against his hand cradling it as he continued his watch over the General.

The General was currently talking quietly to one, Jean fuckin' Havoc, idly tracing lazy circles in his desk... Havoc looked very animated over whatever the hell they were discussing. Edward narrowed his eyes as the fuckin' bastard lightly touched his subordinate, his gloved fingers trailing over the man's wrist.

He couldn't help but wonder: what would it feel like to feel those roughen silk gloves upon his person? Would the roughened fingertips infused with flint scratch along his skin? Would the silky fabric of the palms soothe the trail left behind? How would it feel on his wrist? A whisper of a touch? A caress on his face? He wondered…would it burn against his taut flesh?

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Edward scribbled furiously on his paperwork. Trying to ignore the wonderment of his thoughts. Glancing up, he looked incredulously as the General placed the tip of his glove into his mouth, dragging the glove off his hand in a incredibly slow manner. He continue his blatant perusal as the General raked his hand through his hair, giving the man the 'just fucked' look.

It shouldn't be fucking sexy. But fuck!

Edward quickly went back to his work, trying desperately to hide the reddening of his cheeks. He wondered if Mustang did that move before he fucked the luc—unlucky person.

Did he tease them relentlessly, sliding the roughen gloves infusing a trail heat on their flesh? Would he remove his glove in the same manner before giving them that damn smirk?

Groaning lowly, Edward screwed his eyes shut trying to block on the mental images his mind was torturing him with. He could see Roy… No, General Mustang stalking towards him pinning him against the door whispering naughty words. Fuck, no. He needed to concentrate, not think of fuckin' sexy...no. Discreetly, fixing himself, Edward hunched over his paperwork.

He listened as his fellow officers shuffled around the office completing their duties. He tried not to focus on the sexy timbre of his superior, who was currently thanking Hawkeye for something.

He was NOT prepared for the sinful moans.

Startled, Edward stared at his commander officer, who was presently drinking some frozen concoction with moans that any call-girl would be jealous of. He watched Mustang lightly lick the white cream from his lips with a satisfied pop before placing the cherry into his mouth. Edward stared slack-jawed as the General tied the damn cherry into a knot, sucking lightly with appreciative slurping noises.

He was fuckin' screwed. That would forever be imprinted on his mind! He wondered how it would feel to have that warmth wrapped around him. He bet the damn man would like it rough. He clenched his fingers at the thought of tangling his fingers in his superior's dark locks. He could almost see himself pumping in and out of that—groaning, Edward shielded his eyes in frustration. He knew now—his Superior officer was placed on this Earth to fuckin' torture him. Right now, he was so fuckin' tempted to march over there...

Bowing his head, Edward took a fortifying breath trying to discreetly relieve some of the pressure with the heel of his palm. Unable to help himself, he glanced back at his superior and was not prepared.

The man had taken his uniform shirt off announcing how hot it was. All that Edward cared about was the tight undershirt proudly displaying the sexy Bastard's attributes. The bastard sat on the edge of his desk lightly running his gloved hands along a banana that mysteriously appeared. He watched transfixed as Mustang trailed his roughened glove up and down, slowly peeling to reveal the hidden fruit. Gulping, Edward shifted uncomfortably as his XO swallowed the entire thing almost to root, making those damn noises lightly licking the fruit. This was just too much. Slowly, he watched the commander repeat the action in apparent satisfaction before locking eyes with him with a smug smirk that was borderline evil.

The fuckin' asshole.

Scowling, Edward ducked his head staring blankly at his paperwork. He quietly hoped the redness of his face would go away along with his apparent arousal. He needed to get the fuck out of here, before anyone noticed his raging hard-on. Ignoring the oblivious people in the office, who were carrying on like that shit didn't just happen, Edward tried desperately to finish his paperwork. The sound of snapping fingers startled a whimper from the him as lightning shot down his spine. Fuuuck.

"Fullmetal, my office," the smug bastard commanded, holding the door open.

Squaring his shoulders, Edward briskly walked towards his commanding officer's domain. Secretly wondering if his dreams were about to come true as the door shut and the sound of the lock echoed in his ears.

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