whiskeycoffee | "Breathing Underwater" (Fullmetal Alchemist, Roy/Al/Riza, 1/1, Mature)

Title: Breathing Underwater
Author: m.jules
Pairing: Roy Mustang/Alphonse Elric/Riza Hawkeye
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: I picture Arakawa getting wind of this story and I run and hide. I wouldn't add ill-gotten gains to my list of trespasses.
Verse: Alternanime. Pretty much end-of-series, ignore the movie, and Roy still has his eye.
Author's Notes: Yes you read that pairing right. Roy/Al/Riza. As in, threesome. As in, Oh God, oh God, I hope my mother never figures out how to find me on LiveJournal. Thank you much to

cornerofmadness and

evil_little_dog for the beta, and to

galuxkitty for being fair game when I said, "Hey, do me a favor and see how this sounds. Oh, and which title should I use?" Also to

marlex for randomly IM'ing me with, "Hey, where's that Roy/Al/Riza you were talking about back in the summer?" and for giving me the song at the end. There are many hands that go into making these stories...

Now excuse me while I go wash mine of it. ;)

Roy almost couldn't remember the last time he'd seen young eyes looking so old... except he did. In the dirty water of a trough in Ishbal before the reflection was broken by his murderous hands, he'd seen the eyes of a killer looking back from the haunted face of a young boy, a boy not much older than Alphonse was now. Roy's mouth settled into a grim line as he watched Al fidget in the chair across the desk from Roy.

"I don't know where else to look," Al was saying miserably, and in all the years Roy had been keeping up with the boy, he'd never heard him sound so hopeless. "There haven't been any clues -- not from the beginning, but I thought... eventually..."

He felt Hawkeye shift behind his chair, knew she heard how lost and small Al sounded. It wasn't a sound that suited the tall, broad-shouldered nineteen-year-old at all. "I know," Roy answered him, hearing the weight of the years of fruitless searching in his own whiskey-roughened voice. Hughes, and then Fullmetal... Mustang knew what it was like to look without finding anything.

"What do you do?" Al whispered, turning haunted eyes up to him. "How do you..." He stopped to swallow, lick his lips. "...survive?"

Roy thought about giving him an answer that would tell him it was all going to turn out all right, that he just had to believe and keep trying; any number of platitudes meant to build him up and send him back out on his search. But in the end, what came out of his mouth was an honest, broken, "Any way you can."

The look that came over Al's face prompted Roy to elaborate. "You bury it when you can, drown it sometimes when you have to forget for a moment." He shook his head, feeling as if the last few years had been a lifetime. And, in a way, they had. "Come on, Alphonse. You look like you could use a drink." He laid his hands flat on the desk and pushed himself wearily to his feet. He tugged on his coat and looked back at Hawkeye. "Captain, we might need your assistance later," he said with a wry smile, and Hawkeye nodded.

"Yes, sir; I expected as much." Her face was as carefully professional as always, but Al thought he saw a flicker of concern, of protectiveness.

Roy walked around his desk and stood expectantly by Al's chair. When the young man only looked up at him silently, Roy reached down and put his hand on Al's shoulder. Al blinked as if pulled from a spell and stood, sliding his arms into his own jacket. He tugged it straight and followed Roy out the door, glancing over his shoulder at Hawkeye. She gave him a small smile and a wave and his eyes softened as he lifted his hand in response.

"How long?" Al asked, turning his head slightly until he could see Roy sitting beside him at the bar.

Roy gave a grunt of inquiry, not understanding the question. Ice cubes rattled in the near-empty tumbler as Roy set it back on the bar.

"How long until... until I forget?" They'd been drinking for a while; taking it slow because Roy said drinking too fast only made you sick, not numb.

Mustang winced at the question, looking down into the amber liquid in his glass. "Not helping, huh?" he asked in a low voice. "At least you aren't drinking alone; that's worse."

"Is it?" Al asked, this time turning enough to look at him straight-on. Roy looked up and met his eyes, haunted obsidian gaze softening with sympathy as it skipped over the younger man's features.

"Yes," Roy answered simply. "Much worse." He shook his glass, sending the ice cubes slinging from one side to the other, their soft clatter loud in the quiet ambience. "Then all your ghosts come looking for you."

Al shuddered, tipping his glass back for a long swallow. "I almost think I'd like that," he whispered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wry, knowing smile tug up one side of Roy's mouth.

"Yes," he said. "You almost would."

Al heard the unspoken words in that statement, all the ways those ghosts would be worse than being alone, and something inside crumbled. He had nowhere left to go, no one left to turn to. He had to be strong for Winry, for Pinako, for himself. He could not afford to be broken and lost, not now, not when he was the only one left. Ed had been the strong one; Ed had been the one who drove them onwards. Al had been the steadying force, the anchor. Ed was the wind in the sails and now Alphonse was dead at sea, adrift in the doldrums with no wind to carry him. He wasn't sure how much longer he could survive.

Roy looked over at him and frowned. "I'll call Hawkeye," he said, laying a steadying hand on Al's shoulder as he pushed himself to his feet and moved towards the telephone. Al's skin burned where Roy's hand had rested and he looked up, watching the older man walk away. There was a man who moved under his own power, a man with fire still in him. He'd survived these grievous wounds even longer than Alphonse had; he was still breathing. Al felt his chest tightening the longer he watched Roy, wanting what Roy had that let him go on, whatever that was.

When Mustang returned to the bar, Al caught the man's wrist in his hand, gripping it tightly. "How?" he asked. "How are you still alive?"

Roy's mouth twitched, tightened, but he didn't pretend not to understand the question. "I am not alone," he answered simply. "I have lost much, and am still losing, but I am not yet alone." He fixed Al with a serious look. "If I were to lose... everything," he hesitated, cautious to name names in public, in uniform, "I am convinced my own flames would consume me, leaving nothing but ash."

Al let go of his wrist, looking back down into his glass, weary and worn. "Oh," he said. At the moment, he felt very alone.

Roy put his hand gently on Al's shoulder again in a half-embrace and tugged the younger man to his feet. "Let's step outside and wait for Hawkeye," he suggested. "Some fresh air might be nice."

Alphonse nodded, handing the waitress money for his tab. Roy's hand closed over his, folding the bills back into his palm. "I've got it," Mustang insisted, keeping his fingers closed over Al's as he paid the barmaid with his free hand.

A frown creased Al's forehead and his fingers involuntarily clenched tighter around the money. He heard the crisp bills crackle like flames on dry wood.

Roy saw his look and shrugged, smiling. "I invited you out for drinks," he reminded Alphonse. "My treat."

Al nodded, tucking his money back in his pocket but slow to remove his hand from Roy's grip. He hadn't been touched in a long time, not skin-to-skin, and he hadn't realized how cold he had been feeling. The emptiness pressed in on him from outside and from within, chilling him to the bone. Roy watched him carefully; Al could see the intensity of observation in his eyes but couldn't read the thoughts behind it. Eventually, Mustang turned to walk out of the bar and Al followed on his heels.

He watched the older man, thought how odd it was that, though he was nearly an inch shorter than Alphonse, Roy's presence took up so much space. He was glad for it; it gave him a steady point to focus on, a north star to set his course.

Outside the bar, the night was damp. Rain had fallen while they were inside and now the street lights reflected in the puddles of water on the street. A cool wind blew, toying with the edges of their jackets, teasing their hair. Roy stood with his hands in his pockets, silent, and Alphonse stood beside him. The fresh air did indeed help, blowing the cobwebs of fear and worry from his mind, filling his consciousness with the scent of new rain, cleansing, and hope. He glanced over at Mustang and noticed for the first time how young the man really was. The weight of the world that rested on those broad, blue-clothed shoulders made him seem so old that Al hadn't realized he was barely over thirty.

"Roy," he said softly, calling the other man's attention to him. When Roy looked at him, face tilted up slightly to meet his eyes, Alphonse smiled a little. "Thank you," he said, and leaned in to kiss the corner of Mustang's mouth.

The older man stiffened slightly in surprise but didn't pull away, and when Al drew back, he noticed that Roy's eyes were fixed on him, curious, bemused, but not adverse. Al could feel warmth bleeding into him through the chill of isolation that had wrapped around him like a cloak and he wanted very much to get closer to that heat, to fan it into flame, to let it obscure the gaping void that mocked him. He only knew one way to do it. When Roy licked his lips, Al leaned in again. He hesitated briefly, but Roy didn't flinch, didn't move back, and Al pressed forward the last quarter-inch to touch their mouths together.

For a brief moment, they remained frozen like that until Roy's mouth moved under Al's, lips brushing softly against his, and Al felt his breath catch in his throat. Yes, he thought, and kissed him more firmly, mouths moving together in exploration. Embers began to glow somewhere within and Al wanted, needed more. He reached up and cupped Roy's jaw, opening the other man's mouth with his own. Roy hummed in approval and Al was pleased when the older man slid his tongue into his mouth, finding Al's and coaxing it into play. Al sucked in a breath through his nose, tilting his head as he rubbed his tongue along Roy's, feeling tiny flames starting to lick through him. For the first time in months, years, he was beginning to feel alive.

The sound of the door to the bar opening shocked them apart, but Al saw how Roy watched him from beneath hooded eyes, lips slightly swollen with kisses. Al swallowed, tasting Roy and whiskey on his tongue. He smiled at the older man, a smile meant to say that wasn't the end of it, and slid his hands into his own pockets, turning to watch the street, to wait for Hawkeye.

It didn't take long until a car pulled up to the curb, Riza's blonde hair dimly glowing in the streetlights, the tires making a wet sound on the cobblestone street. Roy opened the front passenger door and Al moved toward the back, but Roy intercepted him. A hand on the small of Al's back guided him into the front seat and he looked back at Roy, heat flaring in his eyes at the gesture. Roy nodded as he closed the door and Al looked over at Riza.

"How are you, Alphonse?" she asked, and it wasn't a polite question. He saw the concern in the lines of her eyes, of her lovely mouth, and smiled at her.

"Better," he answered truthfully, and her expression seemed to lighten at that, as if a weight had been lifted from her.

"Good," she nodded, glancing at Roy in the rearview mirror as he slid into the back seat and shut the door behind himself.

"My house, Captain," Mustang said quietly, and Riza gave him a sharp look in the mirror before nodding.

"Yes, sir." She pulled away from the curb and turned them toward Roy's apartment. Al leaned back against the seat, letting his eyes close and letting himself feel instead of thinking. He could feel Roy behind him, feel the warm presence of life in the back seat, life that teased and encouraged him to live again. Riza, beside him, was as soothing and steady as the gently lapping waves of the ocean against the hull of a ship and he reached over on impulse to rest his hand on her leg. He felt her surprise even though he didn't open his eyes to see it and heard a gruff noise -- jealousy? approval? -- from the back seat. Short moments later, her hand covered his, fingers curling around his softly, and he smiled.

Exhaustion and alcohol and the rocking movement of the car threatened to lull him to sleep and he drifted on the edge of drowsiness, twining his fingers through Riza's and holding on as if that alone could save him. She held on until she had to shift gears and he let his hand fall away from her thigh. When the car stopped, it took him a moment to open his eyes, awareness returning to him slowly. He sat up to find Riza watching him closely and half-turned in his seat to see Roy doing the same.

"You're welcome to come in if you'd like, Alphonse," Roy said. "I can make up the couch for you."

Al knew Roy was giving him several outs all in one -- leave if you want, stay with no strings if you want. He glanced at Hawkeye, saw nothing but acceptance in her eyes, and smiled at Roy. "Thank you," he said. "I'd like to stay, if it's no trouble."

"No trouble at all," Roy assured him, the knowing look in his eyes telling Alphonse he'd understood the full acceptance of that statement. "Hawkeye, perhaps you'd like to escort Alphonse inside? I'll find the extra blankets."

Riza looked back at Roy, their eyes meeting and holding for long moments. Al got the distinct impression they were having a silent conversation; he could almost feel the thoughts passing between them. Finally, Riza nodded and gave Al's hand a light squeeze as she murmured to Roy, "It's a cold night; make sure he's warm enough."

Al released Riza's hand long enough to exit the car, watching Roy as he strode into the house ahead of them, the steadiness of his step defying the amount of whiskey they'd had. They followed him inside and Al stood in the middle of the foyer, staring up the stairs after Roy as Riza closed the door. He felt a hand on his arm and looked down to see Riza looking up at him, warm concern etched on her features.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked him, and he shook his head.

"No," he answered. "I'm broken and I'm exhausted. But I'll survive." He favored her with a smile, one more reminiscent of his younger, worry-free self -- one that she'd rarely seen. "In fact, I might even live."

Her smile was small, tight, and she slid her hand down to his wrist, squeezing lightly. He darted in to give her a quick kiss on the lips, wanting to erase the worry he saw there. She caught her breath, startled, but he'd felt something warm uncurl inside of him, something like humanity and affection, and wanted more.

"Is this okay?" he asked her, and she hesitated briefly but nodded. He tilted her chin up with one hand and kissed her again, deepening it quickly. He pulled back at the sound of footsteps, looking up to see Roy with a pillow and several heavy quilts at the bottom of the stairs. Mustang gave him a smirk and kept going into the living room toward the couch.

Al tilted his head and followed him, Riza trailing with a watchful look. Roy dropped the bedding onto the sofa and met Al's frown with a shrug. "In case you decide you'd rather sleep on the couch," he said, and Al grinned at him, relieved that Roy wasn't actually rejecting him.

"I hope you weren't counting on that," Al told him honestly, making Roy laugh.

"Not really," Roy admitted, coming closer to Al. Al could feel his body tingling with anticipation, nearly aching for the taste of Roy's mouth again. The kiss was wet and hungry, more confident than the one they'd shared on the sidewalk, and Al melted into Roy, yielding to his onslaught, grateful that Mustang seemed to understand what he needed.

Roy's hand tentatively slid around Al's back, pressing the younger man close, and Al sighed into the kiss. Warmth pressed against his back and he broke the kiss in the surprise, looking back to see Riza as she wrapped her arms all the way around him to hug Roy. He felt safe, secure as he leaned his forehead against Roy's. Riza let one hand slide up Al's stomach, rubbing soothingly over his chest, and murmured, "We'll only go as far as you say, Alphonse."

"Okay," he whispered. "And if I don't say stop...?"

"Then we won't stop," Roy answered him, tracing a thumb across Al's lower lip. Mustang pulled out of Al's arms, smiling a little at Al's panicked look. "Hawkeye," he rumbled, then paused, smiled, softened. "Riza. It's quite cool in here. Some hot tea would be nice."

"And a fire," Riza nodded, pressing a kiss against Al's shoulder before she, too, let him go. "Alphonse, why don't you relax on the sofa. I'll make tea; Roy will start a fire." She smiled, and Roy leaned past Al to kiss her lips, lingering. Al watched them, warmth spreading through him at the sight. The idea of both of them taking care of him, giving him salve for his wounds, was deeply attractive.

He sank obediently onto the cushions, finding the quilts to be soft and heavy, just like the one that had been on his bed at home when he and Ed were children. He closed his eyes and pulled the patchwork up to his face, breathing in the scent. It didn't smell like home; it smelled like Roy but even that was comforting in its own way. Roy was a steady ocean current, and Al felt sure if he could just get close enough, he would be swept up in that tide, no longer having to tread water to survive.

There was a snap and a rush of sound as flames licked into the fireplace, surrounding the logs and beginning to crackle as they burned, but Al kept his eyes closed, listening, smelling, feeling. A hand smoothed over his hair and a sound of contentment slipped from his throat before he looked up to see Roy standing over him, gloves removed, eyes shadowed and glinting in the firelight. Mustang leaned over and Al tilted his head in acquiescence long before their mouths ever met.

Al's hand clenched around the quilt as Roy's tongue slid wetly into his mouth, exploring deeply. Al sighed, his eyebrows drawing down as want rolled through him. He released the quilt and reached up for Roy, hand sliding behind the older man's neck into his hair. Roy hummed and gently settled onto the couch beside Al, breaking their kiss. Shallow pants of air slid over Al's moist lower lip as he watched Roy, his hazel eyes bright with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

Roy frowned slightly as he studied Al's face, his fingers stroking soothingly through Al's bangs. "Are you all right, Alphonse?" he asked in that wonderfully deep, soft-rough voice of his.

Al nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and shifted so that he was hovering over Roy, lips parted in desire for a brief moment before he tentatively stole a kiss, and then another. Roy met his kisses but didn't try to deepen them, and after a moment, Al withdrew, confused. A noise behind him alerted him to Riza's presence, and Al sat back against the cushions, flushing slightly as Riza set the tea tray onto the coffee table.

She gave him a fond smile, settling on his other side from Roy. She handed a cup of tea to him and one to Roy, then took one for herself and curled up on the couch, tucking her feet under herself. "Alphonse," she said quietly. "What do you think is about to happen here?"

Al looked to Roy in confusion, then back at Riza, feeling his face coloring. "I -- I mean..." He really didn't want to have to say it aloud, but realized if he couldn't say it, he had no business doing it. "If I'm not presuming too much, I assumed we were going to... have sex." He managed to say it with only a slight hitch, but there was no helping the hot blush that flooded his cheeks.

Riza nodded, taking a sip of her tea. Though Roy shifted behind Al, settling into the couch, her eyes didn't move from Al's. It was obvious she wasn't taking any chances on him getting in over his head and his embarrassment gave way to relief at the realization. She was taking care of him.

"It won't be the first time I've shared Roy," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "But you have to be sure you're ready for it, Alphonse. This can get very intense very quickly." She reached out, her fingers tracing down his smooth jaw and cupping his chin. "We won't think less of you if you decide it's too much to handle. Just tell us."

Al closed his eyes briefly, ducking his head to press his lips against her fingers gratefully. "Thank you, Riza," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But I think I need this."

She watched him carefully and finally nodded, accepting. She set her teacup down on the coffee table then leaned forward to kiss him. Roy's hands slid around his waist, taking Al's cup and saucer and moving them out of the way before he let his palms rest on Al's stomach. Riza took her time, her lips and tongue doing wonderful things. Al kissed her back, relaxing into Roy's arms. He could taste a slight bitterness of black tea sweetened with honey in her kiss. When Riza finally pulled away, Al remained still for just a moment, catching his breath.

Riza pressed him firmly into Roy’s chest as she stretched past Al to kiss Roy, and Al nuzzled into the side of her neck, content to be wrapped in their warmth. He floated on a sensation of suspended arousal, drifting in the cocoon of their bodies as they kissed and caressed him, simply enjoying the feeling of being coaxed slowly back to life.

They turned him in Riza’s arms so that he lay back against her chest, her long blonde hair falling over his shoulder as she nuzzled and kissed his temple, and he squirmed in delight, his eyes falling closed as he leaned into the touch like a kitten starved for affection. Then there was a brush of lips against his and his eyes shot open just in time to see Roy leaning in again. Their mouths met and Roy kissed him firmly, deeply, upping the stakes. Heat sparked in Al’s belly and he clutched at Roy’s shoulders, pulling him closer, teeth clicking lightly against the other man’s as he returned the kiss with a growing fervor.

Al felt heaviness and thickness between his legs and pressed upward, looking for stimulation, for relief. He found the almost-sharp edge of Roy’s hipbone and rubbed against it, gasping at the pleasure-pain. Roy groaned, low and quiet, the sound drawing across Al’s throat like the barest edge of a rough blade and Al realized there was an answering hardness pressing into his thigh.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Riza said in a husky voice, kissing the top edge of Al’s ear. “The bed has more room.”

Leaving the tea cooling on the table and the fire banked in the fireplace, Riza led Al upstairs while Roy took a brief detour to the kitchen. Riza pulled Al to a stop inside the bedroom door and rested her hands on his waist, looking up at him. Roy followed them in a moment later, passing them to set a bottle of cooking oil on the bedside table before he turned and faced them. Riza slipped to the side, leaving one hand on Al's back.

“Alphonse,” Roy said in a deep, serious voice. “I need to ask you two questions and I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Of course,” Al responded, though what he really wanted was to be between Roy and Riza again, hands and mouths and skin together.

“Have you ever had sex with a woman or a man before?”

Al blushed at the question but Roy’s expression didn’t waver. Al didn’t want to admit that no, he hadn’t had time or the emotional capacity for sexual dalliances, not with his brother missing and every day one more mile in the gap between them. This… this was more about being rescued from drowning than any playful satiation of hormonal urges. The two of them together, Mustang and Hawkeye, felt like driftwood and oxygen, one buoying him up so he could breathe the burning relief of the other. Riza and Roy both watched him with serious faces and he knew that anything less than honesty would end up being a mistake.

“No,” he answered quietly. “Neither.”

Roy nodded as if he’d expected that answer but he wasn’t done yet. “And this question is very important, Al. Are you drunk?”

Al blinked. He had nearly forgotten that he and Roy had spent the first part of the evening in the bar, sipping whiskey from cut glass tumblers. It seemed so long ago already, his emotional state already that far shifted. No longer did he feel aimlessly adrift in an endless sea of numbness; now he could see the edge of a life raft and was reaching for it with singular focus.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t feel drunk. I just feel like I need you.” He glanced at Riza. “Both of you. You’re alive. You’re like…” Al shrugged, not wanting to draw comparisons to the obvious but failing to find a better simile. “You’re like the fire you create, Roy, and I’m just so cold… I just want to be near you.”

He saw Riza’s expression soften out of the corner of his eye, saw something like kinship enter the lines of her face and knew she knew what he meant. Roy was compelling as the trade winds on the ocean and Al wasn’t the first to be pulled into his current.

Riza moved behind Al and held him and he was grateful for her. If Roy was the wind and current, Riza was the ship and sails. He relaxed into her arms, sighing in contentment when Roy stepped forward, body pressing against him and lips brushing gently over his face.

Al couldn’t tell who was moving them toward the bed but the three of them went together. Riza shrugged out of her clothes, revealing black bra and panties that stood out in contrast to her creamy skin. Al sucked in a breath at the sight and Roy smirked, though there was a new flush on the older man’s cheeks as well. Riza smiled and began undressing Al, and all Al could think was finally. Roy helped and Al cooperated with their hands, surrendering each article.

Finally, Riza leaned back on the bed, holding out her arms to Al. “Come here,” she said, and he did, crawling into her embrace. She kissed him and he melted into her, curling his body against hers. The cool silk of her underwear and the warmth of her skin was a pleasing contrast against his naked flesh and he sighed in pleasure. She turned him so that he was resting, back against her chest, and then she smiled at Roy. “Your turn,” she said to her lover.

Roy smiled and undressed and Al watched hungrily, the blush on his face deepening with each new inch of skin that was bared to his gaze. Finally, Mustang joined them on the bed, running a hand up Al’s torso as he kissed first Riza, then Al.

They kept Al between them as they ran their hands and tongues over him, and Al tasted and touched everywhere he could reach. Roy finally unhooked Riza’s bra and Al nuzzled into her breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth and suckling as if he could draw comfort out through her skin. She gasped sharply, her hands twining into his hair, taking out the tie that held it in a ponytail and spreading it across his back. Al shivered at the ticklish sensation of his own hair on his shoulders and Roy pressed his face into the silky mass, wrapping strands of it around his fingers.

“Al,” Roy mumbled into the back of his neck, “Are you okay with this?” Roy ran his hand between them to squeeze Al’s buttocks, making sure the boy understood.

Al moaned softly as he realized what Roy was proposing, what that bottle of cooking oil was for, and nodded. “Yes,” he breathed. “Please.”

Cool air seeped in against his skin as Roy shifted and Al shivered. He hadn’t realized how warm he’d been, how warm Roy had made him. He smiled; the loss only proved that it had been there. Riza pulled Al into her arms, holding him against her chest. He rocked gently, enjoying the feel of her hard nipples pressing into his chest, the tender flesh of her breasts cushioning him, and the firm press of her toned, muscular thigh between his legs.

Al was licking the side of Riza’s neck and she had his earlobe between her teeth when he felt the cool press of a slick, oiled finger at the base of his spine, sliding between his buttocks. He tensed briefly at the first brush of Roy’s fingertip across the opening, tucking his face into Riza’s skin.

“Okay?” she murmured to him, stroking his hair. He nodded and consciously relaxed his muscles, remembering that this was Roy who was about to have sex with him and Roy would take care of him.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, going boneless against Riza’s body. “I’m okay,” he said, and Roy’s fingertip pushed just an inch inside. He winced a little but soon adjusted as Roy rubbed him firmly, slowly, massaging the muscles and coaxing them to relax. It felt strange, but not entirely unpleasant, and he was just starting to get used to it when Roy added a second finger.

That hurt a little and Al sucked in a breath, shutting his eyes. Riza combed her fingernails through his hair, kissing his forehead soothingly. Roy paused for a moment and Al exhaled, concentrating on relaxing again.

“You’re doing fine,” Roy assured him, leaning in to kiss the hollow of Al’s lower back. Al relaxed even more at the praise and Roy began moving his fingers inside Al, opening him little by little. Riza rubbed his back and shoulders soothingly as Roy asked, “Do you still want this?”

Al hummed and nodded, lulled into drowsiness by Riza’s petting and Roy’s careful preparations. His erection flagged a little and he snuggled into Riza’s bosom, getting used to the odd pleasure of having Roy’s fingers inside him. Then Roy brushed something inside that made him yelp and jump as a shock ran across his nerves. Al knew the anatomy of the human body perhaps better than anyone who wasn’t a doctor, and some part of his mind clinically noted that Roy had found his prostate and that it felt better than he’d thought it would.

Al moaned softly and arched, moving on Roy’s fingers, trying to find that spot again and, even more importantly, prove to Roy that he was ready to go further. He felt a shudder work through him at the anticipation of having Roy inside of him. Something in him wanted, needed to be claimed in this way by this man, as if he thought it would place him even more firmly under Roy’s emotional protection.

Riza’s arms tightened around Al’s back, stroking up and down his spine as Roy tugged Al’s hips upward. Al tucked his nose into the crook of Riza’s neck, breathing in her scent and nestling into her as he waited.

It wasn’t long before he felt Roy’s body press against his and a hardness pushing into him, so slick with oil that Al could feel the excess running down his balls. The fingers that found Al’s hips, holding him in place while Roy sank slowly into him, left a greasy handprint on his skin, proof of Roy’s care for him.

Despite Roy’s generous preparation and lubrication, it still hurt and Al grimaced, clutching Riza’s sides. The coolness of the oil soothed the initial burn and he concentrated on just breathing as Roy paused, finally as deep as he could go. When the sparks of pain began to fade, replaced by an uncomfortable but not unbearable sensation of fullness, he realized that he could hear Roy panting behind him, could feel puffs of hot breath as they skittered across his ear.

The knowledge that Roy was aroused by him, that Roy was having sex with him, did something to him and he pushed back, groaning as the motion set off a chain reaction of pleasure that raced up his spine. Roy shuddered and began to move, shallow thrusts at first, then long, deep ones. There was a hot edge of pain that sizzled along Al’s nerves but it was accompanied by a deep pleasure, not just in his body but deeper, in his mind and his heart.

Al moaned, arching his back like a cat as he began awkwardly meeting Roy’s rhythm. Riza’s hand traced down Al's torso and found his cock, stroking him until he was fully hard again. His body trembled and he couldn’t figure out how to match Roy’s thrusts and Riza’s ministrations at the same time.

“Wait,” Riza said, her voice throaty and deep, shooting straight to Al’s groin. Behind him, Roy let out a noise that sounded like a mix between bliss and profound frustration, but the older man stilled, holding himself in place inside Al. Hawkeye wriggled out of her panties and reached into the drawer of the bedside table, finding a condom inside and opening it. She smoothed it down over Al’s cock and then squirmed until she was underneath him, his hips cradled between her thighs.

Al saw sparks and thought he might come right then when Riza guided him into herself, slick wet heat surrounding him and Roy filling him from behind.

“Don’t worry about lasting,” she whispered at his ear and Roy chuckled behind him.

“She’s right,” he said, nipping at Al’s neck and then soothing it with his tongue. “You won’t last long, but don’t worry about it.” He bit down on the juncture of Al’s shoulder, his hips jerking just a bit as he tried to keep himself still for another moment. “I didn’t last the first few times I was in your spot, either.”

Al didn’t have time to think about what Roy meant about that, exactly, as the older man started thrusting before he’d even finished his sentence, pushing Al deep into Riza. Her internal muscles tightened and clenched at him and he dimly heard himself crying out with each motion, overwhelmed and unable to do much except lie there and let himself be loved.

Both of them knew what they were talking about and it wasn’t long before he spilled, coming hard inside the condom as the orgasm hit him with concussive force. He groaned deeply, reality fading in and out of his grasp as he rested his sweaty forehead against Riza’s collarbone. He was dimly aware of Roy coming deep inside him a minute later, the older man’s cock thrusting hard enough to hurt a little.

After a moment, Roy pulled out of him and Riza helped roll him to the side, removing the condom and discarding it. He looked at her through drooping eyelashes, concern creasing his forehead. He’d never been with a woman before but he was fairly sure he knew enough to know she hadn’t come.

“Riza, you need…”

“Ssh,” she soothed, kissing his forehead. “This is about you tonight. There will be other nights for me.”

Al shook his head stubbornly. “I want you to.”

On his other side, Roy grunted in interest as he pushed up on his elbow. “I can help with that,” he grinned. He took Al’s hand in his own and reached between Riza’s legs, nudging her thighs apart. “He needs to learn this anyway.”

Riza gave Roy a look but didn’t argue, opening her legs easily. Roy’s fingers guided Al’s into the soft folds, rubbing, gently exploring, teasing her.

“Roy…” she warned; she was in no mood for his torment. Al squirmed between them, uncertain, but Roy just chuckled.

“She’s telling us she wants a little more, a little faster,” he told Al as if instructing a pupil. Riza’s lips drew into a thin line but Al thought he could see laughter hiding in her eyes. “Most women have a very sensitive clitoris, and our Riza is no exception, but she’s a fan of penetration, too.”

Al blushed brightly at Roy’s matter-of-fact explanation, but his ears pricked at the term “our Riza.”

Hawkeye rolled her eyes and stroked a gentle hand over Al’s shoulder. “Sorry, Al,” she smiled. “There’s no helping him some days. Good sex tends to put him in a goofy mood.”

“It’s okay,” Al grinned, warmed by the implied compliment. This easy, almost playful banter wasn’t anything he’d expected to have anytime soon. He felt light, almost giddy, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled like this. Roy kissed the side of Al’s neck from where he was draped over the boy and moved Al’s finger up to the bundle of nerves at the apex of Riza’s legs.

“So what we’ll do,” Roy continued, murmuring lowly in Al’s ear, “is double-team her. You’re in charge of her clitoris,” he pressed down on Al’s finger to demonstrate and Riza caught her breath, “and I’m going further down.” Roy’s hand slid away from Al’s, dipping two fingers inside of her.

Riza sighed softly as Roy began moving inside her and Al explored her clit, gently at first and then more firmly. Every new sound she made, every twitch of her body, made him smile. Al’s attention was drawn to the generous swells of her breasts so close to him and he leaned in, capturing a nipple between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it.

“Good,” she gasped, one hand going to his head to hold him where he was. He adored the flesh under his mouth, all the while rubbing her clit, and Roy looked over his head to share a look with Riza. Out of the corner of his eye, Al saw Roy smile tenderly and Riza reach up with the hand that wasn’t buried in Al’s hair to stroke Roy’s cheek. Roy turned his head and kissed her palm and Al was overwhelmed with a sense of utter contentment to be where he was.

With Al and Roy’s combined efforts, Riza soon went sailing over the edge, and when she opened her eyes, it was to be greeted by two men smiling at her like little boys, pleased with their accomplishment. She laughed and kissed Al first, then Roy, and they all snuggled into the covers together, Al sandwiched between Riza and Roy.

As sleep tiptoed over Al's consciousness, Riza’s fingers sifting through his hair and Roy pressed warmly against his side, he heard them murmuring, their words filtering through the haze of drowsy satisfaction that wrapped him up like a blanket.

“What started this?” Riza asked quietly, scraping her fingernails gently over Al’s scalp.

“You heard him,” Roy answered. “He was alone and he needed not to be.” Roy shifted a little so he could reach Riza, rubbing her arm. "We kept his ghosts quiet for tonight, at least."

"Just tonight?" Al couldn't decipher the tone of Riza's voice but he thought she sounded slightly disapproving.

"More if he wants it," Roy said. "If you want it."

Riza's lips pressed to Al's forehead and the last thing he heard before sleep took him under was Riza saying, "I want him to know he has someone to come home to." He sighed as he settled into their arms and the smile on his mouth remained long after he drifted into his dreams on a gentle current.

"Future Mending"
Ally Kerr

If it's all gone to pot
Then come down and just stop
And consider your lot
You've made it this far

Think of blue sea
Or the birds and the bees
Or the feeling you get
When you catch a sunset

Hope is just never ending
Hope is the future mending
Hope you will always be my friend

If you've slept through the years
On a blanket of tears
And confronted your fears
Then I am with you

Just close your eyes
And you'll soon realise
That the world isn't real
It is just a feeling

Hoep is just never ending
Hope is the future mending
Hope you will always be my friend

Hope it is all need
It is what I live for and it's the air I breathe