Fullmetal Alchemist (RoyxEd, with various background pairings)
Well, hey, it's Nov 3 by MY clock...

Title: Proper Communication
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Everyone needs therapy to learn that if you don't ask, THEY can't tell.
Author's Notes: For the 2004 Yaoi Challenge, Nov 3. Prompt: Can't He Take a Hint? *g* -- One of your characters is ready for more, more than just the kissing and petting he and his lover have been indulging in since they decided to give whatever it is they have a try. The problem is that he doesn't know how to ask for more since he's the one who made the other slow down. No spoilers. Really not worksafe. ...Admittedly, this isn't a great night for fic-reading, considering, but hey: If the election's DONE, and your candidate won, read some smut to celebrate! If the election's DONE and your candidate lost, read some smut to console yourself! And if the election ISN'T DONE, read some smut to help deal with the tension!
Website: Passion Fruit


"Maybe," Ed mused aloud from the end of the bed, unmade blankets bunched behind his head and legs thrown over the rail at the end of his bunk, "if I dated somebody else, just to get his attention--"

Al didn't even look up from his book. "That's a bad idea, Brother."

"Why? He does it." Ed scowled up at the underside of the top bunk. "You know what he told me the other day?"

"What did he tell you, Brother?" Al asked obediently, turning a page. Ed was struck with the sudden, irritating feeling that he was being humoured and so he twisted to glare at Al, who seemed to remain oblivious. Like everyone else around here.

Ed gritted his teeth. "He said that he couldn't go out on a date with me because he was seeing a woman at that time."

"Ah."

"'Ah'?!" Ed punched his pillow, not quite hard enough to send stuffing flying. "What the hell is 'Ah' supposed to mean? We're supposedly in a fucking relationship, and he's blowing me off to see some brainless bimbo--"

Sighing heavily, Al put a finger in his place and closed the book, carefully. "Well, Brother, you do have to keep the relationship hidden, and his dating habits were pretty well-known. If he didn't keep dating around, people would probably start to notice--"

"That's not the point," Ed snapped. He scrubbed at his face with both hands, the cloth of his gloves almost rough. "The point is that he gives them more than he gives me and they're supposed to be the fake relationships."

Al made a slightly uncomfortable noise and Ed almost felt sorry -- no matter how he'd been determined to be honest to Al about who he was in a relationship with and how it was going, he doubted his little brother really wanted to hear how much Roy Mustang was 'giving him.'

"Still," Al said. "He's just keeping you safe."

"He's keeping his job safe, you mean," Ed groused, and sighed. "So. If I were gonna do the same thing and date someone else--"

"Brother."

"What?" Ed almost snarled. "I don't see why you're so sure this is a bad thing. It's not like you've ever had a date."

Al didn't say anything, just looked evenly at Ed, the lights in his eyes not even flickering, and Ed swallowed around sudden guilt.

"...sorry."

"Mmm." Al opened the book again, looking down. "It's okay, Brother, you're upset."

"Still," Ed said, and though his voice was subdued now, the idea hadn't quite let go. "What else could I do?"

It seemed Al had finally given up on the book, putting it beside him and resting one heavy gauntlet on it. "You could always just... talk to him."

"What, to Mustang?" Ed snorted. "Fat chance. That involves letting him know I was wrong."

"But if you were wrong--"

Ed scrubbed at his face again, groaning. "He'll never let me live it down." Al made a soft noncommittal noise in return and Ed glanced aside, gaze wry. "...well, don't worry about it," he told Al. "I'll figure something out."

***

He hates going into it blind.

It's not like it's the sort of thing you should have to have experience to be able to do at all -- if that were the case then nobody'd be able to do it, he'd have thought, because everyone has to start somewhere.

But he's pretty sure that most fifteen-year-olds have a better idea of what the hell to do than he does, and that pisses him the hell off.

Mustang's tongue is in his mouth. He'd almost choked when Mustang had just slipped it in there like it was okay, pressing past lips he'd tried to soften because he was fairly certain that's what you did in kisses. And maybe it was okay, or supposed to be okay -- Ed isn't sure, not with the Colonel's hand on the side of his face, his tongue stroking patterns along the edge of Ed's tongue, flicking up against the roof of his mouth behind his teeth. He feels frozen in place, dragging sharp short breaths in through his nose, his fingers closed hard enough on Mustang's shoulders that he thinks the Colonel might bruise. He's not sure how he feels about that either.

He's pretty sure he should be doing something.

The Colonel's moved back before Ed's had time to decide whether or not he wants it to go on like this. His face is nearly expressionless, gaze flat, and a spike of anger goes through Ed; he feels his shoulders stiffen under Mustang's hands.

"Fullmetal?" Mustang's voice is remote, detached. "Is something wrong?"

Ed grits his teeth. "It's fine," he mutters. "Go on."

The Colonel eyes him for another long moment, lips a thin line in his face, then nods, and his expression seems to relax fractionally, the corners of his lips turning up just a little, brushing his curled knuckles gently down the line of Ed's jaw. It's a disturbingly gentle touch and Ed feels something sharp and panicked settle in his throat.

"Yes," Mustang murmurs.

He's got Ed pressed against the back of the couch and Ed tries, moves his tongue back uncertainly against Mustang's, has to draw in another sharp breath through his nose as that motion sparks a tightness in his chest sending tendrils down his belly. And Mustang's hands are following those tendrils, Mustang's fingers are unhooking the clasp he holds his jacket closed with, are pushing his tanktop up and tracing hot patterns over Ed's stomach to his chest, outlining muscles and--

A finger brushes a nipple and Ed does choke into the kiss, arching into the lightning-bright jolt of that touch leaving his body too-sensitive and hot under Mustang's hands. He has to close his eyes because Mustang's too close, the Colonel's own eyes closed as he kisses Ed, he has to arch against the couch as Mustang's fingers close around the nipple and pluck lightly. He's aching in ways he's not sure if they're good or bad, because they're too strong, it's like starving, where the food's good after but you need it too much and he's felt that before when he's on the road. Not this.

Nights alone with himself, rolled on his side to face away from his sleeping brother, teeth gritted around any noise -- they weren't like this. It's too much. It shouldn't be like this, he has to think, pressing up against Mustang as his fingers trace out scars, as Mustang almost purrs into his mouth, as Mustang's hand slides down his body--

He shoves the Colonel away.

"Fullmetal?" None of that flat face now, entire expression startled, something unusual written in his features, lips wet and full and eyelids lowered and something about his gaze that Ed has never seen and can never un-see.

"Stop," Ed mutters, and shoves him further away, scrubs at his hair. "Stop, just--"

"...ah... my apologies? I thought that." Mustang cuts himself off there, apparently unsure of what he'd thought. "...It's fine."

"I, my brother will be wondering where I am."

"Yes."

"...Next time, okay?"

"Next time," Mustang echoes, and sits back to try to smooth down his hair and rearrange his uniform.

***

Headquarters was the same as always, active personnel carrying papers to places they're needed, getting their work done. Only difference from usual, Ed thought grimly, was that Mustang wasn't there.

Just as well, really. He wasn't sure he could go through with this if he were.

He tracked Havoc down in the firing range and wrinkled his face up with distaste, plugging his ears as Havoc fired away. He waited until Havoc had to reload before calling his name, then louder, until Havoc blinked, lowering the ear protectors so they were hanging around his shoulders. "Boss? S'up, weren't you off today?"

"Lieutenant. Yeah. I, uh, wanted to talk to you--" It was, Ed found, amazingly difficult to get that much out, and he scowled at himself, fierce.

He tried to clear his expression up when Havoc began to look distinctly nervous. "Eh? Something up? ...Something I did?"

Ed waved his hands, laughing a bit awkwardly as he tried to reassure Havoc. "Nah, you really didn't -- I just, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. In private."

"In private?" Havoc blinked at him again. "...when I'm unarmed?"

What did that have to do with anything? "...Well, it's a bit personal," Ed said, and found himself turning red.

It was appropriate, at least. After all, the Colonel stole Havoc's girlfriends all the damn time, he might as well get some of that back.

Things were getting a bit weird, though, as Havoc appeared to be making note of all available exits. "...Can't we do it here?" Havoc asked.

"Uh..." Ed shrugged, finally. No real loss, and hell, the news did have to get out eventually. "...I was wondering if you wanted to do dinner. My treat. ...Just the two of us."

Havoc gaped at him for a long moment, then cleaned his ear out with his baby finger as if worried that his hearing had been damaged despite the protection. "Uh -- have you talked to Al about that?"

Taken aback, Ed stared at him. "...why would I need to ask Al about going on a date with you?"

"Oh. Oh." Havoc rubbed the back of his neck. "Ehhhhhh. This is a bit uncomfortable."

"Lieutenant?" Suspicion was starting to grow.

"...Listen, just talk to Al." Havoc patted Ed's shoulder with the care he'd normally give to live land mines. "Okay? Yeah. Uh. I've got, um -- firing to practice."

***

Mustang's teeth are worrying slowly at Ed's right earlobe, tugging it, his tongue flicking at the bit in his mouth. It's weird, fucking weird, and Ed's never thought of his ears as sexy before, but Mustang seems to be doing his damnedest to make him think it.

It's left Mustang's nose pressed against the upper rim of his ear and his breathing is loud, almost painfully so, rough and uneven and uncontrolled in a way Ed's not used to from the Colonel. It's a sound of need, heavy and sexual, even if the thought that Roy Mustang might need Edward Elric has never seemed so absurd.

And the Colonel's chest is bare, pressed against Ed's left shoulder with surprising heat, like the fire doesn't originate in principles and theories and arrays but in his chest, cycling through his veins. Ed finds low murmurs rising in his throat, thickly, as Mustang gives a brief shift, pulling at his earlobe, one hand sliding down the bare stretch of Ed's skin, neck to waistline.

He freezes, but Mustang's hand doesn't slide further, just stays there, fingers splayed against the tensed muscles of his stomach. Slowly he relaxes again, groans aloud as Mustang's mouth lets go of his ear to brush, feather-light, down the length of his neck. Mustang does it again, lips curled in a smile, and his lips pull back as he nips at Ed's throat, sucks at the the skin there.

Ed aches, his entire body alert and uncomfortable, alert and ready. The Colonel purrs again, sucks at Ed's throat hard enough that Ed realizes, suddenly, that it'll bruise, and if Al sees his neck, he'll know exactly what Ed was up to, and it's one thing for Al to know he was seeing Roy and another for Al to see that. Mustang presses closer to Ed's side and Ed freezes again at the feel of him, hot and hard through his pants, pressed against Ed's hip.

He's scrambled away before he's quite sure of what he's doing. Mustang blinks at him owlishly, his lips half-parted, tongue wetting them.

"I'm sorry," Ed mutters, and goes for his shirt. "I just remembered -- Al and I had been going to go to the library, if I don't show up, he'll be upset -- I'll be, uh, we can do this again soon. Next time."

Mustang pushes himself upright, one hand on the back of the sofa. "Yes," the Colonel says, and rubs at his face with a bare hand, as if suddenly tired. "Give your brother my greetings."

***

"What the hell!" Ed shouted, and Al almost fell back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

Al nearly huffed, his broad, spiked shoulders rising defensively. "I could ask you the same thing!"

"Havoc?! Lieutenant Jean Havoc?!" Ed flung an arm out. "What the -- I didn't even know you two talked!"

Offended, Al crossed his arms over his chest with a clang, the only sign of the force he was holding back in his anger. "Of course we've talked," Al protested. "I've known him for three years!"

Ed stalked closer, poking a finger into Al's abdomen, hard, as if he could feel it. "You're fourteen, Al! He's, what, thirty?"

"Twenty-seven..."

"He's twice your fucking age!" Flailing wasn't seeming to get the point across, but Ed wasn't sure what the hell else he could do. "You have no idea what you're doing with him! He's just using you, he's obviously just--"

Al seemed to lose his temper at that, voice rising in a childish squeak. "Brother! How do you think you can even say this? Just look at you!"

"You're only fourteen! I'm at least older--"

"So's the Colonel, Brother! He's thirty, you're just sixteen! And he's the one known for being an oversexed bastard! Sometimes when I think what he might do to you, I just get--" Al cut himself off and half-turned away. "I know what I'm doing, anyway..."

At least this explained why Havoc had been acting like Ed had come to kill him. Ed sputtered, scrubbing at his face. "Al, you're not old enough. You're not ready for this. Give it a few years, wait until you're restored -- weren't you gonna ask Winry out then? I thought you loved her. You asked to marry her."

Al's laugh was short and sharp. "Brother, I was just a baby then. And she hasn't told you?"

It was like the world faded to static. "Told me what?"

"She's got a girlfriend." The words came out fairly easily, though there was a plaintiveness in Al's voice.

"Wait." Ed held up a hand, the anger draining away. "Wait, what? Like, a friend who is a--"

"No. Like a girl she's sleeping with." Al gave another little laugh. "...at least you can't get hung up on her age, she's seventeen and her girlfriend's not too much older. You know her. Scheizka."

"...the bookworm girl?" Ed boggled. "What, when -- why didn't she--?"

"I guess she thought you'd take it badly." Al's shrug was brief, and Ed might not have even noticed he'd done it if not for the scrape of metal on metal. "...after all, we've all always known that one of the two of us would marry her."

Ed tilted his head up to look at Al. Al's face was as always impossible to read, and after a moment, Ed's lips twisted in something he hoped was a smile. "...Funny the way things work out."

"Um," Al agreed, almost subdued now.

"...Havoc, huh?"

"Um." Al nodded at that, hands folding in front of his loincloth, the fingers on his gauntlets twining together with nervous tension. "He's nice. Good company."

Ed couldn't bring himself to look at Al as he asked, "Al... what can you two even do together?"

For a long, long moment, Al didn't answer. Then he sighed, quietly. "I could do things to him, I think, but he won't let me? Not balanced. Reminds me I'm, um, an alchemist."

"...good."

"...Not really," Al said, and cleared his throat with an embarrassed cough. "...At any rate..."

"If he hurts you, I'll kill him."

Al didn't seem quite able to hide a chuckle. "...I think he knows that, Brother."

"Yeah, he'd better--" Ed cut himself off as the PA system came on, calling for him to come down to the desk to get a phonecall. "...Eh. Bad timing."

"Go get it, Brother."

It was Roy Mustang. Ed made muttered agreements with most of his opening greetings, waiting for the Colonel to get to the point and wondering why his mouth had gone dry.

"Well," Mustang murmured, after a brief pause. "I just got to your recent report, Fullmetal -- " A blatant lie; they'd been over it already. "-- and I have a few questions for you. I was hoping we could get together tonight to discuss it."

There was something strange, almost vulnerable in Mustang's voice, and Ed hesitated a moment before he said, casually as he could, "Overtime? Better repay me for it, you shit of a Colonel."

"I'll repay you with dinner."

"Eh. Sounds fair. Seven?"

"Certainly," Mustang said, and hung up without saying goodbye.

***

It is their third date at Mustang's actual house -- libraries and film don't hardly count, not when they have to act in public. Dessert had been surprisingly good, especially for something the Colonel had claimed to make himself, and Ed feels full, content. He leans back as Mustang ducks down to pick up his plate, and let himself press a kiss to Mustang's lips.

For a moment, the Colonel does nothing, then seems to relax into it, lets Ed explore his mouth with a careful tongue. When the kiss breaks, Ed reaches for him, and Mustang moves back smoothly, as if he'd practiced the move.

"Would you like some coffee before you go, Fullmetal?"

Suddenly uncertain, Ed looks back at the table, presses his palms flat to its surface. "Uh," he says. "...Sure, coffee'd be good." It'll go well with the taste of the cheesecake, at least.

Roy doesn't try to touch him for the rest of the evening, and sends him on his way before it is quite dark.

"...do this again soon?" Ed asks, and knows he isn't going to get a goodnight kiss, because they are already on the step and anyone could see.

"Yes," Mustang says. His smile is genuine but somehow distant, and strangely tired. "Give me a call, next time you're free."

***

The Colonel was late getting back to his own place, and it gave Ed time to think. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted that, but it was more that he couldn't really avoid it.

Mustang had been cold to him lately, and even if he'd never said it in so many words to Al, he figured that whatever they were going to talk about over dinner would involve a break-up. He tried to tell himself that he didn't mind; after all, it wasn't like they were really compatable; he still wanted to punch Mustang more often than he wanted anything else.

And it wasn't like it was all his fault. Even if he had changed his mind about the panic. Even if he figured that he could go through with it this time. Enough with worrying -- he wanted it, dammit, and Mustang wanted it, and he'd just needed a bit of time--

"What's with the face, Fullmetal? Someone mention how short you are?"

Ed twitched and raised his head to glower at Mustang; the practice at that particular expression seemed to have paid off, because the Colonel took a quick step back before he seemed to be able to stop himself. It was enough to make the rage vanish, to smirk at him. "Eh," Ed said. "You gonna leave me on your doorstep forever?"

Mustang shook his head silently and walked past him, fumbling with his keys. Ed twisted, still seated on the top step, and watched him as he unlocked his door, finding himself thinking, Maybe I can see that more often.

"Come in, then, Fullmetal."

"Sure." Ed tromped in, kicking his boots off on the landing so that they hit the wall, one after another, thump-thump. "So what's this about? You don't usually call me in the middle of the week." Better to play dumb. If he was wrong--

"Mm." Mustang's noise was noncommittal. "Can I make you some coffee, Fullmetal? We need to talk."

Fuck. "...Coffee's good."

He took a seat on the sofa as Mustang moved about in the kitchen and tried to ignore his nerves, propping his feet up on the seat just before the far end, stretched out as far as he could. Better to look casual, he thought. Better to look like I belong here.

When Mustang came back in with the steaming mugs, Ed cleared his throat. "So, what is this about? You haven't called me for weeks, you bastard."

"No," Mustang agreed, quietly. He set down one mug in front of Ed and sat down with the other -- in the chair, Ed noticed, not urging Ed to move his feet aside and sharing the couch, like they used to. "...so."

"Spit it out," Ed muttered, hunching his shoulders. "Get it over with, whatever it is."

The Colonel was silent for a long moment. "...You asked Lieutenant Havoc out earlier," Mustang said, finally.

Ed froze. "How did you--?"

"He told me, Edward. We're friends."

He didn't miss the use of his real name. Anger and panic swelled in his throat and mixed, and for a long moment, he couldn't answer. When words came out, anger won. "Why the hell would he tell you? You steal all his girlfriends, isn't it time for some payback?"

Mustang blinked at him, expression blander than Ed had ever seen it. "I don't steal his girlfriends."

"You steal them all the fucking time! Half those girls you go out with, they dumped him for you--"

"Then they were hardly worth him, were they?" Mustang's tone was mild.

Ed snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and squeezing slightly. "Oh, but you're just fine with girls like that? I'm not surprised--"

Mustang interrupted, and there was genuine anger in his voice for once, startling Ed into sitting upright. "At least I know they want me."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean, asshole?" Ed asked, voice low. "Are you trying to say--"

"If you don't want a relationship with me, Fullmetal, that's fine," the Colonel said, clearly fighting to force himself back into calmness again, his expression smoothing out but his eyebrows still drawn down, eyes sharp and angry. "I hardly have a say in the matter as it is, but I'd rather you'd inform me ahead of time, instead of agreeing and then just--"

Ed slammed a hand down, cutting Mustang off. Mustang had managed to get his composure back and sat back, watching him blandly. At least Mustang's blandness gave him time to put words together.

He searched through a few options, each angrier than the next, and discarded them -- no, no, no, not what he wanted, not useful. Finally, he bit back on his anger, teeth grinding together, and just muttered, "I was wrong."

"Pardon?"

"I want more. Than that." Ed gestured vaguely around them. "...what we've been doing. But -- fuck, you ass, what the hell was I supposed to say? That I was freaked out and made a big deal over a -- I won't say it's a little issue, but... it wasn't, it wasn't as big as I thought it was. I think." He eyed Mustang dubiously. "If you make a size joke right now, I refuse to be responsible for my actions."

Mustang didn't smile. "And so you asked Havoc out?"

"It seemed a better option than admitting to you that I could be wrong."

"I already know you can be wrong, Fullmetal. It happens frequently."

Ed grit his teeth. "See? That's why!"

For a long moment, Mustang didn't say anything. "But you did admit it," he added eventually. "Just now."

"Yeah," Ed muttered, adding a mental Fuck you and figuring his expression got it across well enough.

The Colonel just looked at him for what seemed like too long, then sighed. "Well."

"'Well'?" Ed echoed, stiffly.

"...every new relationship has rocky periods," Mustang said, and lifted his mug, sipping. He sighed when he put it back down. "...Hopefully that'll be one of the last."

"Why? Don't plan for it to last long?" Ed muttered.

"...Hoping we can get these things out early next time we fight."

Ed looked up from the coffee cup held between his hands. "...Next time, huh?"

"Well," the Colonel said, and shrugged. "It is a relationship."

Slowly, Ed put the cup down. "Okay. Gonna give a shot at honesty. You listening?" When Roy lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward, Ed pointed to the mug. "...I don't really want coffee."

After a moment, Mustang put his own mug down. "Is there something you'd prefer?"

***

Ed sat on the bed first, stripping his tanktop over his head. He'd insisted on the bed, though Mustang had been perfectly content to just moving over on the sofa -- We're doing this. Going through with it. I don't want the fucking sofa, Ed had told him. That still didn't exactly make it easy -- he knew Mustang's living room just fine, knew the lower part of his house, knew that sofa damn well.

The bedroom he didn't know at all -- never been up there. He'd expected something more lavish, really, but he thought he shouldn't be surprised to see that the room was strict and military, the bed tightly made and everything in its place. At least the bed was big; that was still in line with the mythos of Roy Mustang's bedroom.

It wasn't easy, but he managed to sit still as Mustang moved about the room, darkening lights and drawing the blinds. Ed glanced down as he moved, pondered his pants, and ended up taking his belt off as well; if everything went well, it'd be more nuisance than it was worth, he decided.

That took just long enough for him to finish and come over. Ed looked up at him and stiffened, because Mustang was just looking down at him, face unreadable. He tried to force his shoulders to untense, shrugging them as if he were unaffected, leaning back on his elbows. "...You coming?"

The Colonel watched him for another long moment, then nodded, and took a seat beside him, leaning down so that he, too, was propped up on one elbow. "If I'm lucky," he said, deadpan, and leaned in to kiss Ed, muffling his snort as he got it.

Ed relaxed into the kiss; it was nothing like the last one had been, nothing like that noncommittal thing he'd done to Mustang. This one started out slow, tongues probing carefully, as if they were both this damn uncertain -- but heated up quickly as Mustang's breath sighed out, as he shifted closer, wrapping one arm around Ed. Ed mmphed into the kiss and deliberately moved closer, placed his right hand on Mustang's hip. Half-purring, a low murmur in his throat, Mustang nipped lightly at Ed's lower lip, tugging at it between his teeth.

Breathing growing harder, heavier, Ed steeled his resolve and moved closer, pressed Mustang from his side to his back, pushing him into the bed. Mustang made a low noise but didn't protest, and his arms rose after another long moment of kissing, wrapping around Ed's shoulders and holding him, propped up on Mustang's chest as he was.

Ed pulled back just a little, pressed a lighter kiss to the corner of Mustang's lips, pressed his forearms into Mustang's chest to let him pull back against the weight of his arms and look down. Mustang'd lost that distant look completely, his hair mussed from Ed's hands before they'd moved to the bedroom, his lips half-parted and wet, his eyelids lowered -- and his eyes were hot, even if there was something still a bit careful about them.

It had been something good when the Colonel had done it to him, even if it had been too new, so Ed exhaled, mouthed along Mustang's jawline back to his throat, and pressed his lips there. The pulse throbbed against his lips, and it was weird, somehow, that Mustang's heart was beating faster already, because there was no way that was normal. He kissed that spot, then bit lightly, lips forming a seal to cling a moment before he pulled back and did the same lower down, at the base of Mustang's neck.

That drew a low groan, almost surprising, and he hesitated a moment, raising his head to look at Mustang, at the way his eyes had closed. "Hey," Ed said, low-voiced. "You're gonna have to tell me if it's bad, 'cause I haven't done this before."

"It's not bad," Mustang murmured, and his eyes slitted open. One of his hands rose from Ed's back to tug at the end of his braid, and Ed felt the hair tie slip free, his hair starting to unwind in waves against his back. "You're not bad at all."

"Eh." Ed lowered his eyes to ponder the fastenings of Mustang's uniform. "...Get this undone for me."

Mustang shifted, and Ed sat back, off him, as Mustang undid zippers and buttons with the speed of long practice. His blue jacket hit the ground, and Ed watched as he untucked the linen undershirt and undid that as well, baring a strip of darker flesh under the cloth. It took him a moment to remind himself that it was all right, he was supposed to, before he drew a deep breath and reached out, tracing that opening path with cold metal fingertips.

Shivering, Mustang raised his eyes to Ed's and Ed shrugged at him, almost rueful. "Eh," Ed said, and stroked again, sliding over to thumb at his nipple. "...I don't think I'm going to be as fun as you're expecting."

Eyebrows lifting, the Colonel asked, "Oh?"

"...Might be my age," Ed said, low-voiced and not looking at his face, tracing a path through the fine black hairs circling Mustang's nipples, "but I, uh, sort of--"

"Want it now?"

He looked up, and saw a hint of a smile on Mustang's face, less of a smirk than he was used to. "Yeah, well. Sorry, you expecting romance?" Mustang laughed, and he let himself grin back, just a little. "Heh, well..."

Mustang leaned over again and kissed him without ceremony, almost abrupt. "It's fine," he said, and gave one of Ed's nipples a solid tweak, making him jerk as the tension curling in his belly shot downwards in a lightning-sharp flash. "We can take our time tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, huh." Ed eyed him, and tried to ignore the huskiness in his own voice. "Think highly enough of your own skill that you think I'll be back, eh?"

"Certainly," Mustang agreed, and didn't quite wince as Ed's fist socked him in the shoulder. "...what exactly do you want to do?"

Ed stiffened. "Do?" he parrotted, and groaned as Mustang's thumb traced a teasing path over and over under his nipple as he leaned in, running his tongue over Ed's lower lip. "Like, uh--"

"You do know what's involved?"

"That's not the point," Ed muttered, breath hissing out between his teeth as Mustang slid down a little and mouthed at his other nipple. "It's, uh, just -- I mean, whatever. Whatever's fine."

"Considering," Mustang murmured against his chest, lips brushing just the tip of his nipple, each touch sending need cycling down, "I think I'd rather you put limits to start rather than me stumbling across them in the middle."

Ed squirmed back a little. "Uh." When Mustang raised his head with sudden concern, he flushed. "No, it's not -- just couldn't think while you were, um. Doing that. But. Anyway. I don't -- uh." He swallowed. "I don't want you to fuck me. That's, uh -- No insult, Mustang, but I'm not sure I trust you that much."

"'Roy' is fine," Mustang said.

"...yeah, but what I'm saying--"

"No, that's all right," Mustang said. "I understand. At this point, I'm not sure I'd want you to fuck me either. Yet."

He pushed himself up onto one elbow with more speed than he'd thought he could muster. "Wait, yet? You mean, that'd be an option at all?"

Mustang's eyebrows rose. "You really don't trust me much, do you?" He didn't seem too offended at least, chuckling faintly as punctuation. "Why not? But later. We have time. Don't we?"

Ed nodded and shrugged at the same time, then cleared his throat at the almost predatory expression that crossed Roy's face. "...but anything other than that, okay. ...just don't expect me to be good."

"You'll be fine," Mustang said, almost a bit distracted-sounding, his hand tracing a light path from sternum down to the waistline of Ed's pants. Ed drew a sharp breath at that, but didn't move away, and a moment later he lost that breath explosively when Roy's hand slid that little bit further and he squeezed, lightly. Teeth gritted, Ed only fought a moment before giving up and thrusting against the flatness of Mustang's hand, his voice a husky wheeze as he nearly shook at the heat sweeping him.

Roy chuckled and Ed opened one eye to glare at him as best he could, hips jerking into empty air as Mustang let go again. "You," Ed hissed.

"You really would rather not wait, wouldn't you?" Roy asked, clearly more rhetorically than anything else. "Well. Do something for me?"

"What?" Ed asked, suspiciously.

Roy took his hand, and Ed let him, 'mmph'ing quietly when Roy unzipped his pants with his free hand and slipped Ed's hand into the gap. His cock was only half-hard, throbbing and heated, and Ed curled his fingers around it -- that was easy enough to do, really, even if the angle was different and awkward compared to what he was used to. "This okay?" he asked, low-voiced, and stroked. It seemed weird to think that Roy might like his personal rhythm, firm and strong and fast, but it was the only one he knew with enough detail to feel comfortable doing, and Mustang at least didn't seem to mind, his head dropping forward as he groaned.

It was weird, he thought, how quickly he got used to the feeling of someone else's cock in his hand, until the rhythm felt natural again, and Roy was fully hard, thrusting in short, sharp motions against the tension of Ed's hand.

"Ed," Roy muttered, and reached over again, put his hand against the front of Ed's pants. Ed groaned at that, jerking, his hand closing maybe a little hard, the ache he'd been trying to ignore intensified, almost desperate. "Here, I--" Roy's hand was actually shaking a little as he carefully worked Ed's fly down, pushed at leather pants and boxers roughly enough that Ed winced and let go of Roy's cock to help, pressing them down to his thighs with a little more care.

He looked up from that again and found Roy watching him with hot eyes, eyelids so low he could just barely see the dark glimmer of his irises under the lids. Ed's breath whistled out, low, and Roy shifted forward, pressed the two of them together chest to chest, Ed's head tucked under his chin as Roy licked his hand and pressed it between the two of them, took hold of both their erections in one startlingly firm grip -- but of course, Ed thought feverishly, of course Roy would have strong hands; they got the most exercise, they were his first and best weapon--

"Move," Roy suggested, and Ed did, breath a hiss between his teeth as he picked up a rapid pace, moving fast and hard. Against his lips, he felt Roy gulp and he mouthed absently at Roy's throat, more lips and suction than any teeth. Roy's pulse was thudding against his mouth, and against his chest, and against his cock and he couldn't hardly think anymore, let alone breathe. And Roy was moving too, against the tension of his own hand and the movement of Ed's cock, shallow, sharp thrusts that almost hit counter-rhythm, almost threw Ed off, but he was too far to stop.

Roy's other hand slid down Ed's back, pressed into the small of it to hold him closer, more tightly, and Ed gritted his teeth, thrust again, and again, and bit down on Roy's throat as he came, barely hearing the low, ragged groans he was making beyond the stuttering ache, beyond the rush of white noise in his ears, in his head as everything seemed to hang in the air a moment before tumbling down through the heat and the throb. He shivered his way through aftershocks, drawn out of him more strongly than he'd expected as Roy kept moving, making noises he'd never imagined Roy making, his own motions picking up speed.

He was nearly at the point of oversensitivity, shivering at each thrust Roy made, when Roy nearly froze against him, a low groan tearing through him and seeming to settle in the pit of Ed's stomach. The only movements Roy was making were sharp, shallow thrusts and the jerk of his cock, semen spattering their stomachs in stuttering bursts as he slowed, finally stilling altogether. Ed murmured at him something low and stupid, and wrapped an arm around Roy because for some reason, Roy seemed shaken, uncertain, different than Ed was used to, not some irritating bastard of a commander but just Roy Mustang.

Ed stroked a light path down Roy's spine and sighed, quietly as exhaustion settled over him. He came to a belated realization that Roy was nuzzling into his hair.

"Should clean up," he husked at Roy, because if there's one thing he learned from his nights alone it was that the longer you waited, the harder the cleanup was.

"Mph," Roy told him, and rolled against him, pressing Ed back into the bed, nose tucked in Ed's shoulder, his eyes closed and his body mostly dead weight anyway.

Oh well. They had time to clean up in the morning, annoying as it would be.

***

Ed woke early, around dawn, with Roy still sprawled over him. He was sticky and having a hard time breathing and started to squirm away, only to find Roy's arm tightening around him.

He thought, briefly, of waking Roy, telling him that, hell, Al was waiting at home, would wonder what Ed was up to -- but then, Al probably wouldn't wonder, after all, and he didn't really want to leave.

Slowly, he let himself relax again and closed his eyes to go back to sleep.