FMA -- Loud and Clear: The Path to the Precipice, Chapter 4 (2/2)
Title: Loud and Clear: The Path to the Precipice
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Roy/Ed (with Al/Win)
Rating: R
Word Count: 56,700 (11,400 in this chapter)
Warnings: notes from the last fic still apply :(
Summary: This isn't the first time Ed's seen the far side of a parabola, and it won't be the last.
Author's Note: *distant weeping about post limits*
LOUD AND CLEAR
PART 5: THE PATH TO THE PRECIPICE
CHAPTER 4, PART II
Ed had drifted-
Well, no.
Ed had dropped into sleep last night like a fucking lead-coated stone on some extremely heavy crack.
But he’d done it wrapped up in Roy’s arms either way, which was the important part-wrapped up and spooned, no less, which was a crime against any last little cowering remnants of dignity he might have had.
Whatever.
He’d needed the fucking sleep pretty badly; apparently he’d slept straight through-at the very least-Roy extracting himself from the Gordian knot of limbs and torsos in order to roll over onto his front and bury his face in the pillow. That was probably much better for your circulatory system in the long run that letting somebody sleep on top of your arm. It was good that Roy had made that call, because he had excellent arms, and excellent legs, and hands, and feet, and… other appendages… and Ed really didn’t want to see any of them have to get amputated.
Ed blinked. His morning brain was a weird-ass fucking place.
He blinked again. The light looked like… maybe mid-morning? And it had this incredible sort of softening effect on the white bedclothes; and Roy’s hair looked like spilt ink; and the stain had flowed gracefully over the back of his neck, and Ed wanted nothing more than to kiss the little nub of his first vertebra.
And he could, now. He fucking could again. He was fucking entitled; he was encouraged; he was…
Home. He was home.
He was home, and safe, and within touching distance of Roy, who wanted him there.
That was a giddy fucking feeling.
Man, mornings were great-the warm-fuzzies were swarming inside Ed’s chest like a cloud of fireflies, but none of the guilt or reason or better judgment or second-guessing circuits had woken up yet.
He shifted over, as quietly as he could, and looked at the clock. It was just a little after eight. That was late enough to count as sleeping in by a pretty significant margin, so it wouldn’t be rude to ruin it, right?
Well. “Ruin” it. If he fucked this up anything less than royally, he doubted the word ruin would make an appearance from Roy’s expansive vocabulary to describe any of what followed.
He peeled the sheets back carefully, just a couple inches at a time. Roy squirmed, then stilled, then huffed out a breath against the pillowcase, but he didn’t wake up.
Ed drew the sheets down far enough to expose most of the soft-worn T-shirt rather unfairly hiding the curved planes of Roy’s back, and then he hiked himself up and over to settle with one knee on either side of Roy’s waist. Then he leaned in and started kneading very gently at the spot low on the back of Roy’s neck where all the tension usually lived.
The tension, as far as tenancy, did not disappoint.
Ed thought it was a pretty fucking good tactic, all things considered: objectively very few downsides and a lot of opportunity. After about five seconds of soft, sleepy, incoherent mumbling into the pillow, a particularly deep press with his knuckle coaxed Roy over the boundary from still-dozing to decidedly awake. He turned his head, and one of of those impossibly gorgeous fucking eyes slid open, and it fixed on Ed with the world’s single most knee-cartilage-melting fucking smolder-and he’d seen a few.
“Did I die?” Roy murmured, and the throaty roughness of his voice just about did for the rest of Ed’s bones-liquid; he was fucking liquid straight through; he needed medical help and maybe a slightly less stupefyingly hot boyfriend.
“Not that I know of,” Ed said. “But you might if you keep using fucking lines on me.”
Roy’s grin sparked a glimmer in his eye before it ever moved his cheek. “If you want me to stop comparing you to an angel, you’re going to have to dye your hair.”
Ed wrinkled his nose. This was why he didn’t let his stupid fucking hair down in front of the likes of Roy any more often than he had to, but he’d been starting to get a bitch of a headache last night from all of the assorted crying and reading and not-sleeping and shit.
“Okay,” he said. “What color’s least angelic?”
“Black,” Roy said.
Ed reached forward and tugged gently at a stupidly pretty little lock curling against the back of Roy’s neck. “Then what the fuck happened to you?”
Roy snorted into the pillow. Which was cute.
“Never mind,” Ed said. “I had plans for you.”
Roy twisted his hips just enough to rub his ass against Ed’s groin, which-
Well.
Shit.
“Did you,” Roy said.
“Maybe,” Ed said, and his voice might possibly have come out a tiny bit strangled, but that could’ve been a coincidence.
“Mmm,” Roy said for good measure, because he was a bastard, and he knew all of Ed’s fucking weak spots. “Tell me more about these ‘plans’.”
Maybe he’d forgotten that one of Ed’s weak spots was dirty talk, since generating it was pretty much tantamount to climbing Everest with a toothpick for a walking stick, as far as Ed was concerned.
“Um,” Ed managed. Fortunately, his morning brain hadn’t geared up enough to produce the swirls of shame that usually accompanied this kind of harmless-but-still-humiliating only-Roy-would-know embarrassment. “I dunno.”
Wait, there was a coil of it-tight and throbbing, stabbing a sharp end through the bottom of his diaphragm, dulling the heat roiling in the pit of his stomach into a low, low endangered little flame.
Roy started shifting in earnest, and Ed had to tilt his weight forward to get up higher on his knees so that there was room for Roy to move under him, and then Roy rolled over, and then his hands darted up to settle on Ed’s hips like they fucking belonged there, and that-
Helped.
“I could make a few suggestions,” Roy said.
“I bet,” Ed said. “You tend to be pretty suggestive.”
Roy’s grin widened until it was hard to look at. Fucker had no right being so cute on top of everything else. What a goddamn cheat.
“Guilty as charged,” he said. He lifted both hands from Ed’s hips, the better to hold them out to Ed with his wrists together. “Lock me up, Officer.”
Ed batted his hands back down-gently, though. “If you’re lookin’ for authority, you’re in the wrong damn place.”
Roy spread his rejected palms on Ed’s thighs and smoothed them slowly up and down. “Au contraire, mon amour,” he said. “I can think of nowhere on Earth I’d rather be.”
Ed was going to vomit. Whether the expectorate would be barf or butterflies was still an open question.
“You know,” he said, “you’re damn lucky I put up with all your mushy shit.”
“Darling,” Roy said, drawing his hands languidly up Ed’s sides-and not-exactly-accidentally dragging Ed’s T-shirt with them; “that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”
Ed blinked, automatically raising his arms so Roy could peel the shirt off of him. “That you’re mushier than an overripe tomato and shit?”
Roy’s hands skated slowly back down over his chest.
“No,” Roy said, and he had that almost-secret little smile on again. “That I’m lucky.”
“Well,” Ed said, “you’re about to get lucky, anyway.”
Roy’s eyes lit up in a wholly different way. “Am I indeed?”
It was sort of difficult to respond to someone sincerely saying the word ‘indeed’ in any situation that didn’t involve a period drama, so Ed tried for a combination of a smirk and an enigmatic smile and then scooted back too fast for Roy’s eager hands to catch him, shuffling himself under the covers. He curled his fingers into the waistband of Roy’s stupid-adorable pajama pants and gave the bastard time for one sharp gasp of comprehension before pulling them down.
The tail end of the gasp metamorphosed into a low, throaty, absolutely fucking world-shattering groan, which might’ve been Roy’s way of getting revenge for the fact that Ed had just applied a very warm tongue to his half-hard dick.
The great thing about blowjobs was that as long as you could keep your teeth out of the way, you didn’t actually need much technique: if you just sort of gradually increased the speed and the suction, you were pretty much golden, and most guys worth sucking off proved vocal enough to give you any other guidance required along the way. If you were really lucky, they’d get excited enough to fist a hand in your hair, which felt fucking kickass on top of helping you gauge how fast they wanted it, since usually they used that leverage to move your head for you.
Admittedly, you did have to convince your gag reflex to go on vacation for a while, and that was a little more challenging. But Ed was into challenges. That might even have been his defining fucking feature, depending on who you asked.
Point was, Roy was arching his back off of the bed and making these beautiful moaning sounds within a matter of seconds, and Ed was no longer regretting the decision to leave his stupid hair down, because it was trailing all over Roy’s skin as Ed moved, and for someone with a hair fetish as intense as Roy’s, that was probably heavenly.
And then-fuck, yes, one of Roy’s hands fumbled to catch his shoulder, then tracked up the side of his neck and delved into his hair, fingers curling just past his temple for a better grip.
“Beautiful,” Roy gasped out, and based on the tone, that was supposed to be a direct address for Ed, despite the fact that it was something of a non sequitur; “if you’re trying to make me desperate for you, you’re doing an e-excellent job.”
Downsides of giving oral included not being able to maintain a steady stream of banter at the same time. Ed paused, drew back, and then traced just the tip of his tongue in a lazy, wavy line from base to head, grinned when Roy threw his head back and whined in the base of his throat, and then tunneled his fist around Roy’s cock to keep it happy while it waited.
“Not much of an ulterior motive,” he said. “Just wanted your dick in my mouth.”
The faint, feverish little groan that slipped past Roy’s lips made it more than fucking worth it.
“What a coincidence,” Roy managed. “I want that very much as well.”
“So shut up and let me work,” Ed said.
“But you see,” Roy said, and then Ed breathed hot on the tip, and the words melted into a whimper before Roy caught his breath again. “You-see-I also-very much-want to fuck you until we’re both ready to go right back to sleep for the rest of the weekend.”
Ed looked up through his bangs, waited until his eyes fucking locked with Roy’s, and took Roy’s dick in down to the back of his throat.
“Hmm,” he said, trying to make his throat vibrate as much as possible with the sound.
The way Roy’s hips jerked upward was a pretty good indication of success.
“Oh, God,” Roy said, and then his breath hitched, and then he said it again, only softer, and unsteadier- “Oh, God.”
Ed pulled up and off, making sure to run his tongue over every fucking centimeter of the underside on the way-and then looked at Roy while he worked his jaw and slowly scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth to smudge the drool off.
Roy lifted his chin just a little to make sure Ed could see the first beads of sweat gleaming on his throat as he swallowed-hard.
“Come here,” Roy said, voice barely stronger than a whisper, shot through with that harsh crackle like he couldn’t fucking help himself, and Ed’s head spun with how damn hot that was. It wasn’t like he had a choice in any case; there were magnets in him everywhere, and Roy’s skin was searing sun-kissed metal, and he leaned down, landed in a kiss-
Both of Roy’s hands curled into his hair this time; one dragged out through the length of it, tugging at the tangles as it went; and the other clenched tight right against his scalp until the tingling sent a shudder down his spine. He let his whole body shiver with it-let the current curve his body right against Roy’s, all the way fucking down-
Roy bit his bottom lip, gently but with fucking meaning, with intent-then drew back, eyelashes rising; smiled like the whole world made fucking sense-
“Ed,” he said. “I love you.”
In that moment, Ed happened upon the slightly unfortunate discovery that he preferred choking on dick to choking back tears. There was really no going back from that kind of shit. To be fair to himself, though, crying was shit. It just was. No two fucking ways about it.
“Shut up,” he managed. “You fucking too. Shut up.”
He’d never had much of any instinct for all of this seduction shit, but something had to be done here, so he went for Roy’s gorgeous throat, kissing open-mouthed. Roy’s hands tightened in his hair, and that felt fucking killer, so he kept at it-worked his way around and up Roy’s jaw to his ear; breathed into it and nipped carefully at the shell. How were you supposed to bite somebody without hurting them, anyway? Roy made it seem so fucking easy, but it wasn’t; teeth were sharp, and skin was so easy to break instead of nice-bruising or teasing or-
“God,” Roy said again, and he hooked one leg-dumb-cute pajamas still caught on his knee-around the back of Ed’s thigh and ground their hips together, and that was fucking magnificent.
“Fuck me,” Ed said into the sweat-dampened hair at Roy’s temple, pressing his pelvis down. He’d been putting all his weight on his left arm to support himself anyway; that freed the right to trail down Roy’s chest, nudge itself underneath his shirt, and slide back up slowly-fingers spread, cataloguing and caressing every single line. “C’mon,” he whispered at the soft noise Roy made through slightly parted lips. “Hard. Now. C’mon. Please.”
Roy twisted far enough to press his cheek to Ed’s; hissed softly through his teeth, then swallowed loud enough for Ed to hear. “Fuck,” he said, and then he shook one hand loose from Ed’s hair and wrapped it around Ed’s right wrist instead. He could have it. Ed didn’t need hands. Roy could have all of it; everything; every fucking cell of Ed’s body; every impulse- “You,” Roy said, “are incredible.”
Ed wasn’t any such fucking thing, but sometimes-
Sometimes he felt like it, when Roy’s eyes lit like that-when they stayed on him, radiant with the deep heat of fucking desire, as Roy guided Ed’s first two fingers into his mouth and ran that unreasonably fucking talented tongue around them-
Ed’s guts burned; his blood boiled; the velvet slide of Roy’s tongue against his fingertips coaxed a desperate fucking moan out of him-almost more a prayer than a plea.
His hand trembled as Roy made one last wet sweep with his tongue and then drew back-eyes still bright like fucking supernovas, like whole universes had condensed and started to explode.
“Can I watch you open yourself up?” Roy murmured, kissing at the shining glaze of saliva coating Ed’s fingers all the way down to where they met his hand. “Would you do that for me?”
I’d pull down the fucking constellations and crumple them for you-I’d drop them at your feet, you gorgeous fucking bastard; don’t you know?
“Y-yeah,” Ed said. “Yeah, I-”
Roy’s tongue made another appearance, tip tracing slowly over Ed’s knuckles.
“Lovely,” he breathed, with a dangerous hint of a narrow fucking grin.
Ed dragged in a shuddering breath and tried to focus through the whirling maelstrom of arousal in his brain.
“Fuck,” his voice said, sounding faintly surprised. He tilted himself towards the nightstand, knowing Roy’s firm hand on his thigh would keep him from falling, and rummaged through the drawer until his fingers found the lube.
And there it was, as he shifted back, centering his body over Roy’s-their dicks brushed, and Roy’s hips hitched up, and lightning spiraled up his spine. It was just so good with Roy; it was just so fucking good-
Roy still had his right hand captured; one long, painstakingly thorough kiss to the center of his palm later, it’d been released, and Roy’s palms were tracking up his sides, fingers slowing their ascent to count his ribs out one by one.
Ed rolled his hips, and the laugh that jittered out of him at the way Roy groaned made both of them grin, and it just-
He’d been willing to give this up.
Thank Christ, thank fucking anybody-thank the whole fucking universe he didn’t have to.
His balance was fucked, but Roy was holding onto him, hands still skimming back and forth across his skin; he had to plant one hand on the bed and shift his legs around to manhandle his boxers off of them; naturally they got fucking stuck on his dick, and the scrape of fabric wrung another little gasp-noise out of him. Finally he wrangled them free and tossed them off somewhere in the tangle of the sheets, which made Roy’s smirk a whole lot wider and a whole lot worse; that alone set the heat in Ed’s guts to simmering brand-fucking-new.
He had to swallow a couple times to reorient himself-to try to clear his head, which was probably a lost cause, but he didn’t want to fucking hurt himself at a time like this, and everything was just so hazy when he got this damn turned-on. It was like the whole world was moving through warm syrup, or… things. It was like things.
It was like practically going blind from the sheer swell of feeling.
It was like being on fire underneath the skin.
One of Roy’s hands wound itself up in his dangling hair again; the other started massaging gently at his hip, drawing him forward to settle Ed’s center of gravity just over Roy’s waist.
His right hand was already pretty damp from its recent-and amazing-fucking adventures in Roy’s mouth, so he dumped some of the lube on it and rubbed his fingertips together to try to distribute it around, and then-
Roy’s eyes watching him were so fucking hungry he almost fucking came right there.
Barely still counted, though-and barely was how he made it to the part with the reaching around behind himself and tracing one slick fingertip in slow circles around his asshole, and everything in him fucking throbbed. The beat of it was-urgent, too-hot, needy; it was a fucking animal thing-
He didn’t want to wait.
But he knew Roy wouldn’t let him rush it if there was any risk he’d regret it later, because Roy was like that, the bastard, and-
And besides, there was something to be said for closely monitoring the way Roy’s bottom lip trembled when Ed arched his spine and let his head fall back as he started to finger himself.
It was still always kind of a shock at first-the sheer fucking bizarreness; the combination of sensations-but he didn’t want to wait, and the slight sting-edged hint-of-a-burn of it sent tiny ripples running up and down his nerves, because his brain recognized what they meant. His brain knew that particular mix of stimuli indicated that Ed was about to get fucked.
He had to play this game right, though-had to balance the fucking comeonplease haste cycling heedlessly in his head with the concrete awareness that if he moved too fast, Roy would stop him out of concern that he’d do some damage. Bastard didn’t understand that sometimes damage was part of the point-and Ed couldn’t have that argument right now. Literally, that was, let alone psychologically; he wasn’t sure that he could speak.
He pressed his first finger up into himself slow but un-fucking-relenting-steadily, listening to the cadence of his own panting, keeping his eyes on the rapture unfurling on Roy’s face like this was the kindest gift from the universe that he’d ever received. First knuckle was easy; second made him grit his teeth-dumbass; he had to breathe; he had to force his stupid animal brain and every single muscle to relax.
Roy made a low noise in the back of his throat-a deep noise; a rough noise; a fucking growl with an edge of unashamed possessiveness, and his tongue darted out to wet the pad of one thumb. That hand drifted up Ed’s chest to graze damply across his nipple, then tweak it almost too hard; and the other arm wrapped around him, and the fingertips dug into the meat of his ass-
God, he melted like fucking butter under the heat of that-
He didn’t fucking care anymore, either; serendipitously, his body was in agreement, and it quaked and quavered and parted like the Red fucking Sea-two fingers; he twisted his wrist once just to be sure he wasn’t forcing anything; God that felt good-
But the best thing about it was watching Roy watch him take it.
Roy Mustang-the epitome of pure fucking dignity; the dictionary goddamn definition of handsome; possibly the world’s single most eligible bachelor who wasn’t heir to a fortune and/or a monarchy-was flushing from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears.
The hand clasping his ass gripped harder-enough that it almost started to hurt, except that the pain transformed into something else entirely before it could register; Ed’s nerves lapped it up as delicious fucking ecstasy instead. The thunder of his own pulse sweetened it; white-blind waves kept curling in him, seething up around his insides, but he couldn’t let them crash; not yet-
He didn’t even hear the sound he made when he pushed his third finger in underneath himself, but he felt it leave him on a harsh out-breath, and Roy’s whole body tightened, and his eyes went huge-
There wasn’t any other power in the world like this.
“Shit,” Ed forced out, following it with a breathless little laugh, because he sounded stupid, but he knew for once that it didn’t matter in the least. “M-maybe I should do this more often, what d’you think?”
“I think you should do it every fucking day,” Roy said, voice low and hoarse and fucking beautiful. “But I’ll confess a little bias on that count.”
Ed could feel that the grin on his face wasn’t the one from his regular repertoire-it was sharper and slyer and, very possibly, hot.
“Takin’ you off the jury, Mustang,” he said. He leaned in-way in, until he could breathe the next bit into Roy’s collarbones and up along his throat. “But we can meet up in a private room if you wanna talk about the case.”
Funny how finger-fucking himself was giving him all kinds of inspiration.
Roy was clearly pretty affected by it too, based on the rather incontrovertible evidence pressing progressively harder against Ed’s inner thigh as their bodies shifted closer by the fucking second.
“I would love to,” Roy said, clutching at Ed’s ass with the left hand and his hair with the right, tugging on the latter and then holding Ed’s head still while he dragged his teeth up Ed’s neck. “I have several opinions I’d like to share.”
Fuck this shit; Ed was ready to go. He shoved his fingers up and turned them a little and then drew them out, trying not to let the searing, stuttering progress of his own breath distract him; he braced himself on Roy’s shoulder with one hand and grabbed for Roy’s dick with the other, lined it up, lowered himself, caught his lip between his teeth and held it while he sank the fuck down-
The moment when it felt like too fucking much was the one he lived for-that first instant where it was more than he could fucking stand for one heart-stopping second; and he was fucking positive that he was going to break-
And then the breath choked out of him and shimmered back in, and Roy’s skin against his was so fucking warm; and the wet slide of sweat and lube between them made Ed’s mouth water sympathetically; and Roy gasped so fucking softly, but his hands were frantic-
“God,” he groaned again, and Ed darted in to kiss up along the ridges of his throat before the last reverberations of the sound had faded out.
Roy’s fingertips danced up his back, sifted through his hair, flirted with the lines of the tattoo-those same fingers had started tracing it once, slow and intent and utterly specific, but when Ed had asked, Roy had dropped his hand like he’d been caught doing something wrong.
“That,” Roy murmured, and the fingertips grazed across Ed’s bottom lip where he was biting it, “may have been the sexiest thing I have ever seen.”
Ed’s voice was a shadow of a thing, but shadows counted for more than he wanted most times. “Bullshit.”
“Mmm,” Roy said, and the hands skated back down Ed’s sides to settle on his hipbones again. “Not in the least.”
And a part of Ed wondered-
What if Roy really did mean it?
What if every time he said some schmoopy-stupid thing, it was the truth?
What if all the declarations-every single compliment; every last brown-sugar morsel of overstated praise-
What if he meant all of it from the bottom of his stupid fucking heart?
And if he did-
Well, shit. If he did, he probably needed his eyes checked; and also Ed was the luckiest piece of feckless, fucked-up shit that the world had ever tried and failed to scrape off of the bottom of its shoe.
He was also about to fuck Roy Mustang’s brains out, which was easier than figuring out how to say Thank you for being dumb enough to want me; I’m really grateful that your standards are so fucked.
Burying both hands in Roy’s hair and kissing him-hard, and heavy on the tongue-seemed like a good segue either way.
When they came up for air, Ed started rocking his hips back and forth real fucking slow-and then drew himself up on his knees until he’d almost separated their bodies, and then struck up a rhythm, up and down and up and holy fucking hell; he’d volunteer to die a thousand times for another moment of the way Roy’s face had contorted with fucking rapture; he would.
And one of Roy’s hands was still tangled in his hair, and the other wrapped around his dick where it was pressed in between them, and the forest fire raging in his guts had decimated him to the ends of his fucking fingertips; he buried his face in Roy’s neck and mouthed at the sheen of sweat.
Roy’s hips kept rising up to meet him-serenaded every time by a faint huff of hot breath; Roy’s arm curled around the back of his neck, and they both scrabbled to realign themselves so that their mouths could collide-
Teeth and lips and the wet cadence of ever-faster panting in between them; Ed couldn’t tell whose shuddering sigh was whose-
But he knew whose fucking whimper it was when Roy’s dick, so-good so-big so-full inside him, struck the fucking sweet spot and hit the endorphin jackpot, and everything in Ed’s body went weak.
“Fuck,” he heard himself force out. One more like that and he was fucking done for; that was a fact. “Roy-”
“I’ve got you,” Roy said, and the smooth fingers tunneled around his dick stroked once, twice-
And Ed levered himself up and flung himself down hard-
And the starbursts on his eyelids made the birth of the universe look small.
He’d tensed all he could to maximize the impact, and when it slammed into him, he just-let go-just-
Roy’s hands fluttered in the sparking ether, fingertips flickering across his skin; the moan from deep in Roy’s chest rumbled right through Ed’s, ricocheting around his ribcage and slingshotting down his spine so that his hips jerked down with it, and instinctively he brought in his thighs-
Roy’s voice shook out of him so low and hoarse and ragged that everything in him squeezed: “Ed-”
And that was-
That. A foaming wash of fucking serotonin and fuck knew what else; warm, slick cum all over both of them-Ed had left a frankly pretty impressive fucking quantity across Roy’s stomach, and the returned favor had just started seeping out around Roy’s softening cock and dripping down his legs.
Holy hell.
Holy hell.
All he wanted to do was collapse into a boneless fucking sprawl and never move again for the rest of his fucking life-except maybe for coffee; he wasn’t a total idiot-but when you were the one on top of the tangle, you had certain responsibilities to fulfill, or… something. Whatever.
So he reached one extremely heavy arm over and eviscerated the Kleenex box, pulling out half of its contents in order to start mopping up.
“God,” Roy said, kissing at his cheek and jaw when he moved back into range, then snatching a few of the tissues from him to assist. “You… God.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Ed said. The trash can was about a billion miles away, and he was not getting out of this sex-sleep-nest yet, so he just tossed the used Kleenex over the side of the bed.
“Speechlessness from me,” Roy said, “invariably is.”
At last, Ed gave in to the extremely insistent urge to collapse on top of Roy with one arm stretched out across the bastard’s chest. Turned out exertion without any carby breakfast calories was way more taxing more than he’d bargained for.
“I better remember that,” he said into Roy’s surprisingly comfortable collarbone. “Better write it down, since it’ll prob’ly be another year before it happens aga-”
“Oh, my God,” Roy said, displacing Ed’s more-or-less limp body as he tried to sit up. “I bruised your ass. I’m so sorry; I didn’t realize-”
Ed tried to twist around enough to look over his own shoulder. “Huh?” It did look like maybe there were some faint marks on his ass cheek where Roy had been gripping him like he was the last lifeline to the ship in a storm. “Oh. S’okay.”
“No, it’s not,” Roy said, brushing at the affected area with his hand like he could clear the color away-which was sort of hilarious, for starters; and which added an utterly exquisite fucking tingle on top of the pleasant ocean of the afterglow. “That’s like leaving fingerprints on the Mona Lisa.”
Ed couldn’t help starting to laugh at that one. “Roy, it’s an ass. It’s not Renaissance art.”
“You’re right,” Roy said, bending enough to brush a kiss across the little flushed part. “I’ve studied David’s ass extensively, and it’s not nearly as impressive as yours. Perhaps Michaelangelo didn’t think people would believe him if he tried to encapsulate the sheer aesthetic power of an ass as nice as yours, so-”
“Shut up,” Ed said, rolling over so Roy couldn’t try to sing any more paeans to his upper thigh muscles.
“Oh, hell,” Roy said, wriggling in next to him but finally fucking settling down, at least. “That reminds me that I promised Elicia I’d take her to the photography exhibition that just opened at the gallery. Which would be lovely, don’t get me wrong, but I’d much rather lie here and fawn over you all day.”
“Don’t you dare fucking cancel on her,” Ed said, rolling back over and shoving ineffectually at Roy’s… something. He couldn’t really tell what it was; he had his face pretty deep in the pillow again. “She fucking treasures putting up with you, and you know it.”
Roy laughed softly, and several kisses landed in various parts of Ed’s hair. “I know. And I wouldn’t-I won’t.” It was definitely time to get up; Roy had started nuzzling. Ed was going to have to kick his ass soon. In just another minute. Maybe a minute and a half. “You could come with us, so that I don’t have to let you out of my sight.”
“Nah,” Ed said. “That’s her time. And I’ve got shit I gotta do in the lab anyway. Why don’t you just pick me up when you guys are done, and we can go to the store and then make dinner all together or some shit?”
This kiss was much more specifically aimed for his ear. “That is a wonderful idea,” Roy said.
Ed managed to move enough to eye him. “You sure you’re gonna let me out of the car, at the rate you’re goin’?”
“Nope,” Roy said cheerfully. “You’ll just have to risk it and find out.”
“Eugh,” Ed said.
Roy recommenced the fucking nuzzling. “May I make you coffee?”
“Fuck,” Ed said, which was an iota or two better than what he would’ve said if his mouth had caught up with the rest of him-which was Goddamnit, Roy Mustang, I just love you so, so fucking much that there aren’t any words fucking big enough. “Please.”
That was a start.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Roy/Ed (with Al/Win)
Rating: R
Word Count: 56,700 (11,400 in this chapter)
Warnings: notes from the last fic still apply :(
Summary: This isn't the first time Ed's seen the far side of a parabola, and it won't be the last.
Author's Note: *distant weeping about post limits*
LOUD AND CLEAR
PART 5: THE PATH TO THE PRECIPICE
CHAPTER 4, PART II
Ed had drifted-
Well, no.
Ed had dropped into sleep last night like a fucking lead-coated stone on some extremely heavy crack.
But he’d done it wrapped up in Roy’s arms either way, which was the important part-wrapped up and spooned, no less, which was a crime against any last little cowering remnants of dignity he might have had.
Whatever.
He’d needed the fucking sleep pretty badly; apparently he’d slept straight through-at the very least-Roy extracting himself from the Gordian knot of limbs and torsos in order to roll over onto his front and bury his face in the pillow. That was probably much better for your circulatory system in the long run that letting somebody sleep on top of your arm. It was good that Roy had made that call, because he had excellent arms, and excellent legs, and hands, and feet, and… other appendages… and Ed really didn’t want to see any of them have to get amputated.
Ed blinked. His morning brain was a weird-ass fucking place.
He blinked again. The light looked like… maybe mid-morning? And it had this incredible sort of softening effect on the white bedclothes; and Roy’s hair looked like spilt ink; and the stain had flowed gracefully over the back of his neck, and Ed wanted nothing more than to kiss the little nub of his first vertebra.
And he could, now. He fucking could again. He was fucking entitled; he was encouraged; he was…
Home. He was home.
He was home, and safe, and within touching distance of Roy, who wanted him there.
That was a giddy fucking feeling.
Man, mornings were great-the warm-fuzzies were swarming inside Ed’s chest like a cloud of fireflies, but none of the guilt or reason or better judgment or second-guessing circuits had woken up yet.
He shifted over, as quietly as he could, and looked at the clock. It was just a little after eight. That was late enough to count as sleeping in by a pretty significant margin, so it wouldn’t be rude to ruin it, right?
Well. “Ruin” it. If he fucked this up anything less than royally, he doubted the word ruin would make an appearance from Roy’s expansive vocabulary to describe any of what followed.
He peeled the sheets back carefully, just a couple inches at a time. Roy squirmed, then stilled, then huffed out a breath against the pillowcase, but he didn’t wake up.
Ed drew the sheets down far enough to expose most of the soft-worn T-shirt rather unfairly hiding the curved planes of Roy’s back, and then he hiked himself up and over to settle with one knee on either side of Roy’s waist. Then he leaned in and started kneading very gently at the spot low on the back of Roy’s neck where all the tension usually lived.
The tension, as far as tenancy, did not disappoint.
Ed thought it was a pretty fucking good tactic, all things considered: objectively very few downsides and a lot of opportunity. After about five seconds of soft, sleepy, incoherent mumbling into the pillow, a particularly deep press with his knuckle coaxed Roy over the boundary from still-dozing to decidedly awake. He turned his head, and one of of those impossibly gorgeous fucking eyes slid open, and it fixed on Ed with the world’s single most knee-cartilage-melting fucking smolder-and he’d seen a few.
“Did I die?” Roy murmured, and the throaty roughness of his voice just about did for the rest of Ed’s bones-liquid; he was fucking liquid straight through; he needed medical help and maybe a slightly less stupefyingly hot boyfriend.
“Not that I know of,” Ed said. “But you might if you keep using fucking lines on me.”
Roy’s grin sparked a glimmer in his eye before it ever moved his cheek. “If you want me to stop comparing you to an angel, you’re going to have to dye your hair.”
Ed wrinkled his nose. This was why he didn’t let his stupid fucking hair down in front of the likes of Roy any more often than he had to, but he’d been starting to get a bitch of a headache last night from all of the assorted crying and reading and not-sleeping and shit.
“Okay,” he said. “What color’s least angelic?”
“Black,” Roy said.
Ed reached forward and tugged gently at a stupidly pretty little lock curling against the back of Roy’s neck. “Then what the fuck happened to you?”
Roy snorted into the pillow. Which was cute.
“Never mind,” Ed said. “I had plans for you.”
Roy twisted his hips just enough to rub his ass against Ed’s groin, which-
Well.
Shit.
“Did you,” Roy said.
“Maybe,” Ed said, and his voice might possibly have come out a tiny bit strangled, but that could’ve been a coincidence.
“Mmm,” Roy said for good measure, because he was a bastard, and he knew all of Ed’s fucking weak spots. “Tell me more about these ‘plans’.”
Maybe he’d forgotten that one of Ed’s weak spots was dirty talk, since generating it was pretty much tantamount to climbing Everest with a toothpick for a walking stick, as far as Ed was concerned.
“Um,” Ed managed. Fortunately, his morning brain hadn’t geared up enough to produce the swirls of shame that usually accompanied this kind of harmless-but-still-humiliating only-Roy-would-know embarrassment. “I dunno.”
Wait, there was a coil of it-tight and throbbing, stabbing a sharp end through the bottom of his diaphragm, dulling the heat roiling in the pit of his stomach into a low, low endangered little flame.
Roy started shifting in earnest, and Ed had to tilt his weight forward to get up higher on his knees so that there was room for Roy to move under him, and then Roy rolled over, and then his hands darted up to settle on Ed’s hips like they fucking belonged there, and that-
Helped.
“I could make a few suggestions,” Roy said.
“I bet,” Ed said. “You tend to be pretty suggestive.”
Roy’s grin widened until it was hard to look at. Fucker had no right being so cute on top of everything else. What a goddamn cheat.
“Guilty as charged,” he said. He lifted both hands from Ed’s hips, the better to hold them out to Ed with his wrists together. “Lock me up, Officer.”
Ed batted his hands back down-gently, though. “If you’re lookin’ for authority, you’re in the wrong damn place.”
Roy spread his rejected palms on Ed’s thighs and smoothed them slowly up and down. “Au contraire, mon amour,” he said. “I can think of nowhere on Earth I’d rather be.”
Ed was going to vomit. Whether the expectorate would be barf or butterflies was still an open question.
“You know,” he said, “you’re damn lucky I put up with all your mushy shit.”
“Darling,” Roy said, drawing his hands languidly up Ed’s sides-and not-exactly-accidentally dragging Ed’s T-shirt with them; “that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”
Ed blinked, automatically raising his arms so Roy could peel the shirt off of him. “That you’re mushier than an overripe tomato and shit?”
Roy’s hands skated slowly back down over his chest.
“No,” Roy said, and he had that almost-secret little smile on again. “That I’m lucky.”
“Well,” Ed said, “you’re about to get lucky, anyway.”
Roy’s eyes lit up in a wholly different way. “Am I indeed?”
It was sort of difficult to respond to someone sincerely saying the word ‘indeed’ in any situation that didn’t involve a period drama, so Ed tried for a combination of a smirk and an enigmatic smile and then scooted back too fast for Roy’s eager hands to catch him, shuffling himself under the covers. He curled his fingers into the waistband of Roy’s stupid-adorable pajama pants and gave the bastard time for one sharp gasp of comprehension before pulling them down.
The tail end of the gasp metamorphosed into a low, throaty, absolutely fucking world-shattering groan, which might’ve been Roy’s way of getting revenge for the fact that Ed had just applied a very warm tongue to his half-hard dick.
The great thing about blowjobs was that as long as you could keep your teeth out of the way, you didn’t actually need much technique: if you just sort of gradually increased the speed and the suction, you were pretty much golden, and most guys worth sucking off proved vocal enough to give you any other guidance required along the way. If you were really lucky, they’d get excited enough to fist a hand in your hair, which felt fucking kickass on top of helping you gauge how fast they wanted it, since usually they used that leverage to move your head for you.
Admittedly, you did have to convince your gag reflex to go on vacation for a while, and that was a little more challenging. But Ed was into challenges. That might even have been his defining fucking feature, depending on who you asked.
Point was, Roy was arching his back off of the bed and making these beautiful moaning sounds within a matter of seconds, and Ed was no longer regretting the decision to leave his stupid hair down, because it was trailing all over Roy’s skin as Ed moved, and for someone with a hair fetish as intense as Roy’s, that was probably heavenly.
And then-fuck, yes, one of Roy’s hands fumbled to catch his shoulder, then tracked up the side of his neck and delved into his hair, fingers curling just past his temple for a better grip.
“Beautiful,” Roy gasped out, and based on the tone, that was supposed to be a direct address for Ed, despite the fact that it was something of a non sequitur; “if you’re trying to make me desperate for you, you’re doing an e-excellent job.”
Downsides of giving oral included not being able to maintain a steady stream of banter at the same time. Ed paused, drew back, and then traced just the tip of his tongue in a lazy, wavy line from base to head, grinned when Roy threw his head back and whined in the base of his throat, and then tunneled his fist around Roy’s cock to keep it happy while it waited.
“Not much of an ulterior motive,” he said. “Just wanted your dick in my mouth.”
The faint, feverish little groan that slipped past Roy’s lips made it more than fucking worth it.
“What a coincidence,” Roy managed. “I want that very much as well.”
“So shut up and let me work,” Ed said.
“But you see,” Roy said, and then Ed breathed hot on the tip, and the words melted into a whimper before Roy caught his breath again. “You-see-I also-very much-want to fuck you until we’re both ready to go right back to sleep for the rest of the weekend.”
Ed looked up through his bangs, waited until his eyes fucking locked with Roy’s, and took Roy’s dick in down to the back of his throat.
“Hmm,” he said, trying to make his throat vibrate as much as possible with the sound.
The way Roy’s hips jerked upward was a pretty good indication of success.
“Oh, God,” Roy said, and then his breath hitched, and then he said it again, only softer, and unsteadier- “Oh, God.”
Ed pulled up and off, making sure to run his tongue over every fucking centimeter of the underside on the way-and then looked at Roy while he worked his jaw and slowly scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth to smudge the drool off.
Roy lifted his chin just a little to make sure Ed could see the first beads of sweat gleaming on his throat as he swallowed-hard.
“Come here,” Roy said, voice barely stronger than a whisper, shot through with that harsh crackle like he couldn’t fucking help himself, and Ed’s head spun with how damn hot that was. It wasn’t like he had a choice in any case; there were magnets in him everywhere, and Roy’s skin was searing sun-kissed metal, and he leaned down, landed in a kiss-
Both of Roy’s hands curled into his hair this time; one dragged out through the length of it, tugging at the tangles as it went; and the other clenched tight right against his scalp until the tingling sent a shudder down his spine. He let his whole body shiver with it-let the current curve his body right against Roy’s, all the way fucking down-
Roy bit his bottom lip, gently but with fucking meaning, with intent-then drew back, eyelashes rising; smiled like the whole world made fucking sense-
“Ed,” he said. “I love you.”
In that moment, Ed happened upon the slightly unfortunate discovery that he preferred choking on dick to choking back tears. There was really no going back from that kind of shit. To be fair to himself, though, crying was shit. It just was. No two fucking ways about it.
“Shut up,” he managed. “You fucking too. Shut up.”
He’d never had much of any instinct for all of this seduction shit, but something had to be done here, so he went for Roy’s gorgeous throat, kissing open-mouthed. Roy’s hands tightened in his hair, and that felt fucking killer, so he kept at it-worked his way around and up Roy’s jaw to his ear; breathed into it and nipped carefully at the shell. How were you supposed to bite somebody without hurting them, anyway? Roy made it seem so fucking easy, but it wasn’t; teeth were sharp, and skin was so easy to break instead of nice-bruising or teasing or-
“God,” Roy said again, and he hooked one leg-dumb-cute pajamas still caught on his knee-around the back of Ed’s thigh and ground their hips together, and that was fucking magnificent.
“Fuck me,” Ed said into the sweat-dampened hair at Roy’s temple, pressing his pelvis down. He’d been putting all his weight on his left arm to support himself anyway; that freed the right to trail down Roy’s chest, nudge itself underneath his shirt, and slide back up slowly-fingers spread, cataloguing and caressing every single line. “C’mon,” he whispered at the soft noise Roy made through slightly parted lips. “Hard. Now. C’mon. Please.”
Roy twisted far enough to press his cheek to Ed’s; hissed softly through his teeth, then swallowed loud enough for Ed to hear. “Fuck,” he said, and then he shook one hand loose from Ed’s hair and wrapped it around Ed’s right wrist instead. He could have it. Ed didn’t need hands. Roy could have all of it; everything; every fucking cell of Ed’s body; every impulse- “You,” Roy said, “are incredible.”
Ed wasn’t any such fucking thing, but sometimes-
Sometimes he felt like it, when Roy’s eyes lit like that-when they stayed on him, radiant with the deep heat of fucking desire, as Roy guided Ed’s first two fingers into his mouth and ran that unreasonably fucking talented tongue around them-
Ed’s guts burned; his blood boiled; the velvet slide of Roy’s tongue against his fingertips coaxed a desperate fucking moan out of him-almost more a prayer than a plea.
His hand trembled as Roy made one last wet sweep with his tongue and then drew back-eyes still bright like fucking supernovas, like whole universes had condensed and started to explode.
“Can I watch you open yourself up?” Roy murmured, kissing at the shining glaze of saliva coating Ed’s fingers all the way down to where they met his hand. “Would you do that for me?”
I’d pull down the fucking constellations and crumple them for you-I’d drop them at your feet, you gorgeous fucking bastard; don’t you know?
“Y-yeah,” Ed said. “Yeah, I-”
Roy’s tongue made another appearance, tip tracing slowly over Ed’s knuckles.
“Lovely,” he breathed, with a dangerous hint of a narrow fucking grin.
Ed dragged in a shuddering breath and tried to focus through the whirling maelstrom of arousal in his brain.
“Fuck,” his voice said, sounding faintly surprised. He tilted himself towards the nightstand, knowing Roy’s firm hand on his thigh would keep him from falling, and rummaged through the drawer until his fingers found the lube.
And there it was, as he shifted back, centering his body over Roy’s-their dicks brushed, and Roy’s hips hitched up, and lightning spiraled up his spine. It was just so good with Roy; it was just so fucking good-
Roy still had his right hand captured; one long, painstakingly thorough kiss to the center of his palm later, it’d been released, and Roy’s palms were tracking up his sides, fingers slowing their ascent to count his ribs out one by one.
Ed rolled his hips, and the laugh that jittered out of him at the way Roy groaned made both of them grin, and it just-
He’d been willing to give this up.
Thank Christ, thank fucking anybody-thank the whole fucking universe he didn’t have to.
His balance was fucked, but Roy was holding onto him, hands still skimming back and forth across his skin; he had to plant one hand on the bed and shift his legs around to manhandle his boxers off of them; naturally they got fucking stuck on his dick, and the scrape of fabric wrung another little gasp-noise out of him. Finally he wrangled them free and tossed them off somewhere in the tangle of the sheets, which made Roy’s smirk a whole lot wider and a whole lot worse; that alone set the heat in Ed’s guts to simmering brand-fucking-new.
He had to swallow a couple times to reorient himself-to try to clear his head, which was probably a lost cause, but he didn’t want to fucking hurt himself at a time like this, and everything was just so hazy when he got this damn turned-on. It was like the whole world was moving through warm syrup, or… things. It was like things.
It was like practically going blind from the sheer swell of feeling.
It was like being on fire underneath the skin.
One of Roy’s hands wound itself up in his dangling hair again; the other started massaging gently at his hip, drawing him forward to settle Ed’s center of gravity just over Roy’s waist.
His right hand was already pretty damp from its recent-and amazing-fucking adventures in Roy’s mouth, so he dumped some of the lube on it and rubbed his fingertips together to try to distribute it around, and then-
Roy’s eyes watching him were so fucking hungry he almost fucking came right there.
Barely still counted, though-and barely was how he made it to the part with the reaching around behind himself and tracing one slick fingertip in slow circles around his asshole, and everything in him fucking throbbed. The beat of it was-urgent, too-hot, needy; it was a fucking animal thing-
He didn’t want to wait.
But he knew Roy wouldn’t let him rush it if there was any risk he’d regret it later, because Roy was like that, the bastard, and-
And besides, there was something to be said for closely monitoring the way Roy’s bottom lip trembled when Ed arched his spine and let his head fall back as he started to finger himself.
It was still always kind of a shock at first-the sheer fucking bizarreness; the combination of sensations-but he didn’t want to wait, and the slight sting-edged hint-of-a-burn of it sent tiny ripples running up and down his nerves, because his brain recognized what they meant. His brain knew that particular mix of stimuli indicated that Ed was about to get fucked.
He had to play this game right, though-had to balance the fucking comeonplease haste cycling heedlessly in his head with the concrete awareness that if he moved too fast, Roy would stop him out of concern that he’d do some damage. Bastard didn’t understand that sometimes damage was part of the point-and Ed couldn’t have that argument right now. Literally, that was, let alone psychologically; he wasn’t sure that he could speak.
He pressed his first finger up into himself slow but un-fucking-relenting-steadily, listening to the cadence of his own panting, keeping his eyes on the rapture unfurling on Roy’s face like this was the kindest gift from the universe that he’d ever received. First knuckle was easy; second made him grit his teeth-dumbass; he had to breathe; he had to force his stupid animal brain and every single muscle to relax.
Roy made a low noise in the back of his throat-a deep noise; a rough noise; a fucking growl with an edge of unashamed possessiveness, and his tongue darted out to wet the pad of one thumb. That hand drifted up Ed’s chest to graze damply across his nipple, then tweak it almost too hard; and the other arm wrapped around him, and the fingertips dug into the meat of his ass-
God, he melted like fucking butter under the heat of that-
He didn’t fucking care anymore, either; serendipitously, his body was in agreement, and it quaked and quavered and parted like the Red fucking Sea-two fingers; he twisted his wrist once just to be sure he wasn’t forcing anything; God that felt good-
But the best thing about it was watching Roy watch him take it.
Roy Mustang-the epitome of pure fucking dignity; the dictionary goddamn definition of handsome; possibly the world’s single most eligible bachelor who wasn’t heir to a fortune and/or a monarchy-was flushing from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears.
The hand clasping his ass gripped harder-enough that it almost started to hurt, except that the pain transformed into something else entirely before it could register; Ed’s nerves lapped it up as delicious fucking ecstasy instead. The thunder of his own pulse sweetened it; white-blind waves kept curling in him, seething up around his insides, but he couldn’t let them crash; not yet-
He didn’t even hear the sound he made when he pushed his third finger in underneath himself, but he felt it leave him on a harsh out-breath, and Roy’s whole body tightened, and his eyes went huge-
There wasn’t any other power in the world like this.
“Shit,” Ed forced out, following it with a breathless little laugh, because he sounded stupid, but he knew for once that it didn’t matter in the least. “M-maybe I should do this more often, what d’you think?”
“I think you should do it every fucking day,” Roy said, voice low and hoarse and fucking beautiful. “But I’ll confess a little bias on that count.”
Ed could feel that the grin on his face wasn’t the one from his regular repertoire-it was sharper and slyer and, very possibly, hot.
“Takin’ you off the jury, Mustang,” he said. He leaned in-way in, until he could breathe the next bit into Roy’s collarbones and up along his throat. “But we can meet up in a private room if you wanna talk about the case.”
Funny how finger-fucking himself was giving him all kinds of inspiration.
Roy was clearly pretty affected by it too, based on the rather incontrovertible evidence pressing progressively harder against Ed’s inner thigh as their bodies shifted closer by the fucking second.
“I would love to,” Roy said, clutching at Ed’s ass with the left hand and his hair with the right, tugging on the latter and then holding Ed’s head still while he dragged his teeth up Ed’s neck. “I have several opinions I’d like to share.”
Fuck this shit; Ed was ready to go. He shoved his fingers up and turned them a little and then drew them out, trying not to let the searing, stuttering progress of his own breath distract him; he braced himself on Roy’s shoulder with one hand and grabbed for Roy’s dick with the other, lined it up, lowered himself, caught his lip between his teeth and held it while he sank the fuck down-
The moment when it felt like too fucking much was the one he lived for-that first instant where it was more than he could fucking stand for one heart-stopping second; and he was fucking positive that he was going to break-
And then the breath choked out of him and shimmered back in, and Roy’s skin against his was so fucking warm; and the wet slide of sweat and lube between them made Ed’s mouth water sympathetically; and Roy gasped so fucking softly, but his hands were frantic-
“God,” he groaned again, and Ed darted in to kiss up along the ridges of his throat before the last reverberations of the sound had faded out.
Roy’s fingertips danced up his back, sifted through his hair, flirted with the lines of the tattoo-those same fingers had started tracing it once, slow and intent and utterly specific, but when Ed had asked, Roy had dropped his hand like he’d been caught doing something wrong.
“That,” Roy murmured, and the fingertips grazed across Ed’s bottom lip where he was biting it, “may have been the sexiest thing I have ever seen.”
Ed’s voice was a shadow of a thing, but shadows counted for more than he wanted most times. “Bullshit.”
“Mmm,” Roy said, and the hands skated back down Ed’s sides to settle on his hipbones again. “Not in the least.”
And a part of Ed wondered-
What if Roy really did mean it?
What if every time he said some schmoopy-stupid thing, it was the truth?
What if all the declarations-every single compliment; every last brown-sugar morsel of overstated praise-
What if he meant all of it from the bottom of his stupid fucking heart?
And if he did-
Well, shit. If he did, he probably needed his eyes checked; and also Ed was the luckiest piece of feckless, fucked-up shit that the world had ever tried and failed to scrape off of the bottom of its shoe.
He was also about to fuck Roy Mustang’s brains out, which was easier than figuring out how to say Thank you for being dumb enough to want me; I’m really grateful that your standards are so fucked.
Burying both hands in Roy’s hair and kissing him-hard, and heavy on the tongue-seemed like a good segue either way.
When they came up for air, Ed started rocking his hips back and forth real fucking slow-and then drew himself up on his knees until he’d almost separated their bodies, and then struck up a rhythm, up and down and up and holy fucking hell; he’d volunteer to die a thousand times for another moment of the way Roy’s face had contorted with fucking rapture; he would.
And one of Roy’s hands was still tangled in his hair, and the other wrapped around his dick where it was pressed in between them, and the forest fire raging in his guts had decimated him to the ends of his fucking fingertips; he buried his face in Roy’s neck and mouthed at the sheen of sweat.
Roy’s hips kept rising up to meet him-serenaded every time by a faint huff of hot breath; Roy’s arm curled around the back of his neck, and they both scrabbled to realign themselves so that their mouths could collide-
Teeth and lips and the wet cadence of ever-faster panting in between them; Ed couldn’t tell whose shuddering sigh was whose-
But he knew whose fucking whimper it was when Roy’s dick, so-good so-big so-full inside him, struck the fucking sweet spot and hit the endorphin jackpot, and everything in Ed’s body went weak.
“Fuck,” he heard himself force out. One more like that and he was fucking done for; that was a fact. “Roy-”
“I’ve got you,” Roy said, and the smooth fingers tunneled around his dick stroked once, twice-
And Ed levered himself up and flung himself down hard-
And the starbursts on his eyelids made the birth of the universe look small.
He’d tensed all he could to maximize the impact, and when it slammed into him, he just-let go-just-
Roy’s hands fluttered in the sparking ether, fingertips flickering across his skin; the moan from deep in Roy’s chest rumbled right through Ed’s, ricocheting around his ribcage and slingshotting down his spine so that his hips jerked down with it, and instinctively he brought in his thighs-
Roy’s voice shook out of him so low and hoarse and ragged that everything in him squeezed: “Ed-”
And that was-
That. A foaming wash of fucking serotonin and fuck knew what else; warm, slick cum all over both of them-Ed had left a frankly pretty impressive fucking quantity across Roy’s stomach, and the returned favor had just started seeping out around Roy’s softening cock and dripping down his legs.
Holy hell.
Holy hell.
All he wanted to do was collapse into a boneless fucking sprawl and never move again for the rest of his fucking life-except maybe for coffee; he wasn’t a total idiot-but when you were the one on top of the tangle, you had certain responsibilities to fulfill, or… something. Whatever.
So he reached one extremely heavy arm over and eviscerated the Kleenex box, pulling out half of its contents in order to start mopping up.
“God,” Roy said, kissing at his cheek and jaw when he moved back into range, then snatching a few of the tissues from him to assist. “You… God.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Ed said. The trash can was about a billion miles away, and he was not getting out of this sex-sleep-nest yet, so he just tossed the used Kleenex over the side of the bed.
“Speechlessness from me,” Roy said, “invariably is.”
At last, Ed gave in to the extremely insistent urge to collapse on top of Roy with one arm stretched out across the bastard’s chest. Turned out exertion without any carby breakfast calories was way more taxing more than he’d bargained for.
“I better remember that,” he said into Roy’s surprisingly comfortable collarbone. “Better write it down, since it’ll prob’ly be another year before it happens aga-”
“Oh, my God,” Roy said, displacing Ed’s more-or-less limp body as he tried to sit up. “I bruised your ass. I’m so sorry; I didn’t realize-”
Ed tried to twist around enough to look over his own shoulder. “Huh?” It did look like maybe there were some faint marks on his ass cheek where Roy had been gripping him like he was the last lifeline to the ship in a storm. “Oh. S’okay.”
“No, it’s not,” Roy said, brushing at the affected area with his hand like he could clear the color away-which was sort of hilarious, for starters; and which added an utterly exquisite fucking tingle on top of the pleasant ocean of the afterglow. “That’s like leaving fingerprints on the Mona Lisa.”
Ed couldn’t help starting to laugh at that one. “Roy, it’s an ass. It’s not Renaissance art.”
“You’re right,” Roy said, bending enough to brush a kiss across the little flushed part. “I’ve studied David’s ass extensively, and it’s not nearly as impressive as yours. Perhaps Michaelangelo didn’t think people would believe him if he tried to encapsulate the sheer aesthetic power of an ass as nice as yours, so-”
“Shut up,” Ed said, rolling over so Roy couldn’t try to sing any more paeans to his upper thigh muscles.
“Oh, hell,” Roy said, wriggling in next to him but finally fucking settling down, at least. “That reminds me that I promised Elicia I’d take her to the photography exhibition that just opened at the gallery. Which would be lovely, don’t get me wrong, but I’d much rather lie here and fawn over you all day.”
“Don’t you dare fucking cancel on her,” Ed said, rolling back over and shoving ineffectually at Roy’s… something. He couldn’t really tell what it was; he had his face pretty deep in the pillow again. “She fucking treasures putting up with you, and you know it.”
Roy laughed softly, and several kisses landed in various parts of Ed’s hair. “I know. And I wouldn’t-I won’t.” It was definitely time to get up; Roy had started nuzzling. Ed was going to have to kick his ass soon. In just another minute. Maybe a minute and a half. “You could come with us, so that I don’t have to let you out of my sight.”
“Nah,” Ed said. “That’s her time. And I’ve got shit I gotta do in the lab anyway. Why don’t you just pick me up when you guys are done, and we can go to the store and then make dinner all together or some shit?”
This kiss was much more specifically aimed for his ear. “That is a wonderful idea,” Roy said.
Ed managed to move enough to eye him. “You sure you’re gonna let me out of the car, at the rate you’re goin’?”
“Nope,” Roy said cheerfully. “You’ll just have to risk it and find out.”
“Eugh,” Ed said.
Roy recommenced the fucking nuzzling. “May I make you coffee?”
“Fuck,” Ed said, which was an iota or two better than what he would’ve said if his mouth had caught up with the rest of him-which was Goddamnit, Roy Mustang, I just love you so, so fucking much that there aren’t any words fucking big enough. “Please.”
That was a start.