Chapter 1 - Charge and Spark

Roy Mustang had been Fuhrer for about half a year on that fateful night with Riza Hawkeye, his battle partner-turned-chief advisor and drinking buddy. After a particularly trying sparring session that left them both bruised and sweaty, they were having a “policy meeting,” also known as “sneaking off to the bar at Madame Christmas’s new place and getting wasted without the interference of an army of guards or the press,” when midway through the night he finally confessed something to his best friend after they somehow got on the topic of sexual history.

The explanation was rambling and involved a lot of talking around the issue, and he clearly did not have the vocabulary, but the meaning had eventually become clear.
Roy Mustang was a submissive, but had never actually had the opportunity to indulge his desires.

“You see,” he said drunkenly with a blush - an honest to god blush rising on his face, “I may have used to talk myself up a lot but I haven’t actually been with many women, and the ones I’ve been with… well, they’ve always expected me to be the, the…”

“The dominant one?” Riza asked. She marveled at how her best friend, despite having come this far in life, was so unversed in sex. It was kind of adorable, actually - not that she was sure that the word ‘adorable’ could be applied to the supreme leader of the country, the only flame alchemist on the planet, and one of the few men who had the dubious honor of having personally slain Homunculi.

“Er, yes, I suppose so,” he said. The blush remained, and only half of it was from the alcohol. Roy drank whiskey, Riza had gin and tonic. Both of them were definitely feeling it by this point.

…

That afternoon they engaged in their regular sparring sessions - no alchemy, martial arts only - and things had gotten a bit heated. That is, more than they usually did. Roy and Riza were the closest people in the world to each other and they shared an almost mental link, their sparring was less fighting than it was a conversation and a dance. They could always tell if something was throwing off the other’s mindset, if something good had happened, if the other had shot out of bed soaked in sweat that morning after dreaming of homunculi.

They knew each other well.

That was why they had each independently but at the same time realized that they bore a sexual, if not romantic, attraction to each other.

It amazed both of them that this came out of nowhere, years into their friendship. Perhaps now that they were safe - no civil wars or nation-spanning plots - the attraction finally had the space it needed to bloom.

Regardless, this realization came at the height of their sparring.

Roy sent out a jab, probing Riza’s defenses. Riza deflected it, but Roy was ready. He grabbed the wrist that had deflected the blow and shot towards Riza’s ribs. She was quick to recover, however, and she grabbed the wrist of the hand that had nearly gotten her.

Gripping tightly on each other’s wrists and trying to grapple for control of the other, they struggled for several seconds before Roy came out on top and managed to take control of both of Riza’s arms.

He had forgotten about her legs.

Her right leg swept Roy’s legs out from under him and he fell, dragging Riza down with him. They struggled even while falling, giving Riza control of Roy’s wrists. These she slapped down to the ground to distribute the force of the collision across his body before his head could hit the mat. It was a rapid, forceful move, but one born of care and one that minimizing Roy’s discomfort. This left them on the ground, however, in an innocent but inappropriate tableau. Riza was on top of Roy, straddling one of his legs and pinning his wrists to the floor. Roy was left spread eagle on the mat with Riza controlling his range of motion.

In that moment, in that position of Riza on top in a show of dominance, they both began to get aroused.

Perhaps that’s why, once they had started drinking, they had gotten onto the topic of sex in the first place.

“Well,” Riza said slowly, cautiously, “would you like some… help with that?”

“Excuse me?” Roy asked, puzzled.

“You see,” Riza explained, “I’m actually a dominant myself. And it’s hard to find submissive men in our circles. So, maybe we could, well, help each other out.”

Roy was taken aback. To hear his best friend suggest something so intimate with an air of calmness and ease was startling, but intriguing. And he was not offended at the proposal, much to his surprised. Instead, he was interested. And more than a little aroused - he could feel his dick slowly getting hard, rubbing his rough pants through his underwear.

After some discussion of terms, and with the solid agreement that this didn’t make them anything other than friends still, they retreated to the chief advisor’s quarters. Riza opened her closet and pulled out a black leather suitcase, which she opened, revealing an impressive variety of sex equipment, most of which Roy had never even seen before and could not imagine how it was used.

They agreed that Riza would take the lead, and that Roy only need call out the word ‘red’ if he needed her to stop. With that, she efficiently undressed him and began to tie him up, stopping to examine her Fuhrer’s naked body. Roy was getting older, but he stayed in peak physical condition. His now-erect cock was a little longer than average, and quite thick. She started by fitting a leather collar to his neck, which Roy found intensely arousing, although he couldn’t have said why. She then pulled out four lengths of rope, which she tied to his wrists and his ankles. She led him to the bed, which bore a short post at each corner, and told him to lie down.
He did so.

She tied the rope cuffs to the posts of the bed with practiced ease. Roy asked her how she knew all this, when she said she would restrain him Roy had expected handcuffs. Riza replied that she had studied Xingese rope bondage.

With her commander’s arms and legs successfully tied down, Riza began to work Roy’s cock with military, yet erotic efficiency.

Before long Roy was straining in his restraints, bucking and rolling his hips in time to Riza’s strokes. Riza praised him, saying what a good boy he was being, how well he was doing, what a wonderful cock he had. Each praise sent Roy spiralling closer and closer to the edge. Praising his cock almost pushed Roy over then and there, but he managed to hold out. He was panting heavily, and the sweat pouring from his body reeked of horniness, getting the sheets damp. He saw that Riza had her free hand down her pants, and was letting out tiny moans in response to Roy’s huge, gasping ones.

Soon Roy could take it no longer. “Riza,” he said, “I’m about to cum, I’m about to cum. Oh god I’m about to cum.”

And, indeed, he came. Thick ropes of cum shot out of his cock, splattering across his chest as he arched his back. He just barely had time to close his mouth before a shot of cum landed just below his lip. He gasped with each shot, one, two, three, four ropes of cum splattering across his own naked body.

Of course, that’s only the first time he was to cum that first night.


