[Fic] The Intimate Details of Rocket Design (Hei/Ed, Round Robin Fic, NC-17 Warning)
Title: The Intimate Details of Rocket Design
Authors: cryogenia and asingulargirl
Genre: Humor/fluff/smut
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hei/Ed
Spoilers: None, unless you don't know who Heiderich is.
Word Count: 6,100-ish
Warnings: Shameless abuse of rockets. Sex toys. NWS, definitely NWS.
Notes: This started out as a totally innocent idea: a picture of Hei with a toy rocket. Cute, right? It didn't end up being that innocent.
He was not in a foul mood, precisely, by the time he got back to the laboratory, but his patience was definitely just on this side of "tried". Tried by every professor he had met with that evening, every ridiculous piece of paper he'd had to collect and fill out and then redistribute to other professors or their secretaries. The concept of a "university" was something that sounded excellent in theory, coming from Amestris where the State had controlled all education - and institutionalized research - with an iron fist, but in practice, Ed was starting to find it somehow lacking. How was a man to experiment with anything if he first had to justify to three separate parties why his materials were necessary? They needed better chemicals so he could formulate a better fuel; he knew the combinations would work because he did; why did he have to write them out?
Actually doing the equations, of course, had only led to more arguments, challenges. Ed had accepted one defeat with grace, but the others he was still not at all sure were valid. Okay, fine, if pressed, he would admit that at times he forgot the rules of this world were not quite the same as the one he had left. Or rather, they were; it was just that he was limited to a solitary set. Alchemical chemistry differed greatly from the regular type. Taking something apart on the molecular - or, with Ed's level of talent, the atomic - allowed you so many more ways to recombine them, without concern for intermediate reactions and precipitate and potential hazardous gases. The energy was all contained in the reaction, and it worked because the alchemist could form all the mass going in into new stable structures by the end of it. Once upon a time, he had been able to just put two things in beakers next to each other, and rearrange their contents until he had them Right.
Hell, once upon a time, he had precipitated himself glasses of water from the moisture in the very air, until his Teacher had smacked him and cowed him into not being lazy.
Ed palmed his key into the lock on their lab's door, noting only vaguely that it was locked at all, and slipped inside. It was just as well it had taken him so fucking long to get through all of that bs tonight. He enjoyed designing these experiments, but the actual labor, the note taking and implementation, was something that grew tedious with only a rudimentary prosthetic to copy down observations with.
He entered the section of the warehouse-like building where their allotted space was, a mess of half-built projects and wooden sawhorses warding people away from potential exhaust danger. They had been using a jerry-rigged system of engines built into the cut up chassises of some old, scrapped planes to test burn times for various fuels. Decommissioned war planes, the professor in charge had told them when they started, with a certain tightness about the eyes that had told Ed not to ask too much more. Alfons got that way sometimes too, though he was quicker to rebound and natter on about the glory their work was going to return to his homeland.
Ed had said nothing then, either. At least Alfons's vision for Germany was much more harmless than Scar's had been for the Ishval.
From the sound of it, one of the engine-systems was still idling. A dull thrum echoed through the empty lab, and Ed winced a little and fished his ear plugs out of his jacket pocket. Warming up before a full burn? He followed the noise to its source in the far corner.
His shoulder ached from a full day of working the awkward false-automail, but he supposed he could at least hold the stopwatch. He really ought to make his prolonged absence up to Alfons-
He rounded the corner, choked on an incoming breath, and stopped dead in his tracks as he spied his lab partner leaning back against the thrumming chassis. The first thing that crossed his mind was that this was about fifteen lab safety and ethics violations right there. The second was that it might just be the hottest thing he had seen in his life.
Alfons Heiderich, his research and sometime bedroom partner, had his back and ass up against the riveted surface of the modified engine chamber, his legs spread apart, and a hand down his pants. His lips were moving wordlessly as the rest of him trembled, against both the vibration from the powerful motor and the natural tremors in legs that looked like they were only half-holding him. His left hand, through the slight opening his fly permitted, looked like it was doing sinful things. Ed's own hands shook with envy.
He had never seen the man pleasure himself before, he realized faintly. They had touched each other, yes - in fits and starts, at first only under the cover of darkness - but he had never been able to just sit back and watch like this before. Details. Little details. Alfons's eyes were closed, though the lids were ever so slightly fluttering. His free hand was splayed out to the side, clutching at the metal as if anchoring him. Ed felt a hot rush streak down his own front, to his groin. Alfons had his ear plugs in. He couldn't see him. Couldn't hear him. What kind of balls must it have taken to do this in such a potentially public place? Quiet, reasonable Alfons, pressed up against that thing, shuddering like that...
Alfons ground his tail end just a little harder against the chassis, and something about the motion started Ed out of it. Like it or not, it was a bad thing to gawk like this. Alfons would be embarrassed. It was horribly inappropriate in the first place. Even if it was amazing.
Reluctantly, Ed slunk around to the far end of the work area and shouted out his friend's name, four times louder than normal to compensate for the ear plugs.
"Hey Alfons, I'm back!"
No response. He tried again, a little louder. Alfons still failed to hear him over the engine.
Well, fuck Ed thought sulkily. He had hoped that by shouting from a distance, Alfons would have time to collect himself, and they could operate under the polite illusion that perhaps Ed hadn't seen what he was doing. But well, it was Alfons's choice to do this in the lab to begin with, he supposed. He could handle a little embarrassment.
He crossed back to where Alfons was (oh sweet mother of fuck) writhing a little against the engine chassis and punched him lightly in the shoulder.
"HEY, ALFONS!"
It was lucky in retrospect he had chosen to come in close and surprise him, because otherwise Alfons would have probably fallen face first and cracked his head open on the concrete lab floor. As it was, he nearly yanked his cock off on the next stroke.
"Edward!" the man yelped three octaves higher than usual, and his hand actually got caught in the front of his pants for a moment before he remembered how to get it out. Ed hung onto Alfons's other elbow, stabilizing him, as he attempted to find his legs and do up his pants fly. He did the latter in what looked to be record time.
"Yeah, who did you think it was going to be?" Ed said sarcastically, though truthfully, he did feel kind of bad. Alfons looked like he'd damn near had a heart attack.
All the more reason why you DON'T do that in public, Ed thought, annoyed. Damn the man for having such a sweet, scared little expression. It pissed him off that it was hard for him to stay truly pissed off at Alfons.
Alfons stepped away from the engine, wiped his left hand discretely against the side of his trousers. Edward crooked his finger and indicated for them to come away to a far corner, where they could take out their ear plugs and thus no longer need to shout.
"I'm sorry," Alfons babbled almost immediately. He did look sorry, too - being caught red-handed had left his face and neck similarly scarlet. He looked like he was blushing all the way down to the roots of his hair. "Oh god, I didn't mean-"
He couldn't resist a little teasing. "What, couldn't wait to get home to flush out the pipes?" Ed snarked crudely. Alfons's mouth snapped shut immediately, and the corners of his mouth tightened in embarrassment. "Could have at least tried the bathroom."
Alfons said nothing, averted his eyes. It was strangely heady, having someone nearly a full (augh how he hated to admit that) head height taller than him shy away. Ed, amused, prodded some more.
"Or are you that attached to your work? I mean I know they tell you to love what you do, but--"
"I was," Alfons cut in, voice thin but tense, like a struck piano wire, "hoping maybe it wouldn't take you two hours to get back, so we could go home and have some privacy."
Edward huffed. "It wasn't that long!" he protested. "And Professor Edelstein was a right bastard about signing anything."
"Yes, it was that long," Alfons countered. "I've been timing experiments with the watch; I know how long it's been. Everyone else left ages ago." His annoyance at being challenged seemed to have help him forget some of his embarrassment, though. He was looking a little less terrified. "But Professor Edelstein is a bastard, I'll agree."
The tension between them had eased somewhat. Edward bopped his friend in the arm again.
"So what do you have left to do tonight? Other than me?"
"Edward!" Alfons's tone was angry. And fearful. His eyes darted about in that shamed way Edward was unfortunately used to, and the tension surged up once more. He understood rationally that it was a valid reaction, but damn if it didn't still hurt.
"Well fuck, there's no one here!" he growled, spreading his arms wide. "You're so worried about that when you had your hand down your fucking pants!? It was just a joke, hell."
Please don't be ashamed of me.
"You know why we can't," Alfons said tightly. "Not even in jokes." He made an effort to meet Ed's eyes again, though. "I've just got a few last runs for number thirty-four, that's all. I figured since you were taking your time, maybe we could finish around eight and go get a late dinner."
He smiled again, softly. "I know a cheap place that has white sausages on Thursday."
"Ooh, I'm all ears."
Alfons laughed at that. "No, you're all stomach. It's a miracle you haven't eaten me out of house and home yet."
"Shut up, you." It was Ed's turn to have his ears burn scarlet.
His friend slapped him on the back and popped his ear plugs back in, started walking quickly, if stiffly, back toward the experiment setup. They did finish by eight, and the little beer hall did in fact have excellent white sausages.
Ed made a noble effort restraining himself from pointing out what they reminded him of.
***
Later, in the relative safety of their flat, Ed lay on his stomach on their bed surreptitiously contemplating the flat plane of Alfons's ass. His roommate was not a bad looking man by anyone's standards; neither was his ass. Somehow, though, how Alfons looked had just never been so much on his radar. Perhaps it was because he was never allowed to just sit back and look...or hell, if he were honest with himself, because he just hadn't thought of it. In the dark, it was easy not to think too much about anything but the feel of slender fingers down the front of his pants, the sharp hiss of breathing.
Those slender fingers down the front of Alfons's own pants. That not-bad-looking, maybe even very fine looking, ass, grinding up against the humming engine chassis.
Edward gathered his legs up beneath him on the bed, just a little bit, trying to ease some pressure off a rapidly swelling portion of his anatomy.
Alfons turned round from where he was tidying his desk, giving Ed a good eye-level view of his definitely not-at-all-bad-looking groin area, and Ed could no longer resist asking.
"So uh, seriously - what is it about the engine?"
"Pardon?" Alfons didn't look upset so much as out and out confused.
Ed propped himself up on one elbow (careful to make sure his own groin and the tent he had pitched there was still hidden) and tried again. "You were all squirming against it," he pointed out. "Looked like you were having some fun." He gave the man a wolfish grin.
Alfons got it then. He started and scowled, though his ears betrayed a slight flush.
"I don't see how that is any of your business."
Ed grinned wider, amused again at how easy it was to fluster the guy. Hypocritical, probably, considering he thought he would probably damn well die of embarrassment if Alfons ever walked in on him, but well, that's what also made this so interesting. It was funny, and also an intriguing phenomenon to study, because it wasn't him.
"C'mon, I mean, we both do it," he said. "It's not that embarrassing."
"Easy for you to say," Alfons huffed. "You're not the one having your nose rubbed in it."
Ouch. Ed blanched.
"Sorry."
"...why are you asking, anyway?"
Ed rolled up a little further onto his side. "I dunno, I was just sort of wondering if there was a reason for it."
"I'm not 'in love with my work', okay?" Alfons glared. "So you can avoid trying that joke again. It was poor enough the first time."
Ed harrumphed to himself moodily. He hadn't thought his jibe was that bad, or that tasteless. "You have no sense of humor," he complained.
"You have no sense of what's appropriate."
"Hey, I'm not the guy rubbing my ass on a rocket!" Ed shot back. "What the fuck was that, anyway? Is there something about you I should know, Alfons? Cause that was really weird, okay?" And hot, a wicked part of his brain reminded himself. Very hot.
Alfons looked away.
"I just wanted to know," Edward said.
"...fine," Alfons said quietly. "If you must you know...it's the ah, vibrations from the engine."
Ed blinked. He considered a couple things in his head.
"Yeah, but - you had your ass to it. Not your front."
Alfons sighed. "And like I've told you before, there is a reason people like to be fucked. There are lots of nerves back there..."
Ed shook his head.
"I still think you're crazy, no offense," he said. "I can't even get a finger in there without it hurting like a bitch."
Alfons snorted. "How am I not supposed to take offense when you call me crazy? And you hypocrite, you've tried it!?"
"Only once," Ed countered. "After you were carping on about it."
"I was not carping! I mentioned it once-"
"Yesterday?"
"Okay twice-"
"More than that. You've been on that for three weeks at least."
"Because you're being silly," Alfons hissed, looking more and more agitated. "I never said you had to, and I always offered to let you top, and you just keep insisting of all things that it can't possibly feel good, and I'm here to tell you that I know it does, I'm living proof! So if that's your theoretical excuse then you just need to find another one. Tell the truth, Edward. If you don't want to, that's fine. I understand."
Alfons's eyes said otherwise, though; pitifully resigned. Also, accusatory. Look, I make so many concessions for you, they said, and Ed gritted his teeth. Yeah, like hell he did.
"Well, fine then," Ed growled. "What, you think I'm scared? You think I'm chicken? I tell you what, next time you're wanting to go rocket-fucking, let me know, I'll take you up on that."
"I'd love to know how that is supposed to feel good, Alfons. I really would," he concluded, flopping back onto his belly.
"...oh really?"
The predatory glint in Alfons's eyes should have been a warning, but Edward's eyes were unfortunately looking down toward the mattress.
***
"This is weird," Ed said, pulling out his shirttails in short, erratic jerks. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
I can't believe it either, Alfons thought dryly, watching Ed's vest slide off his arms.
Ed started in on the buttons on his shirt, his left hand trembling, fumbling a little bit. "And besides, why does it matter, anyway? We both get off in the end, right?"
...The weakest excuse Alfons had ever heard. Really, Edward, you could do better, Alfons thought. He concentrated on watching Ed's chest appear, tan skin peeking out from under the strap from his prosthetic - and no less tantalizing for the obstruction - and counted to five before answering in an effort to keep his tone cool. "If that's the case, then, by your own logic, this should be no problem for you whatsoever."
Edward stopped and stared at him for a moment, then looked annoyed with himself. "Yeah, yeah." The shirt slid off and pooled on the ground on top of his vest with a soft rustle of fabric. "So what do I do now?"
Alfons raised an eyebrow and exhaled through his nostrils. Ed was flushed, a sheet of pink spreading from his cheeks down through his face, neck and chest and all the way up to his scalp. Alfons felt a spike of warmth rush through his abdomen. "Take off your pants and get on the bed," he found himself saying in an authoritative tone.
Ed's eyes widened slightly and he frowned, pupils narrowing, like he might rebel for a moment, but then he relaxed and began on his pants. "Give a man an inch," he muttered, his belt clanging as he unbuckled it.
Biting back a wry comment about the number of inches involved, Alfons moved closer to Ed and put a hand on his tense shoulder. This wouldn't do at all. It was crucial for Ed to loosen up if this was going to work, and Alfons already had a strong feeling that Ed was going to be dubiously receptive to this at best, at least until-
He was getting ahead of himself. His first priority was making Edward pliant. He leaned forward, putting lips on Ed's neck, just under his jaw, raking his teeth across Ed's pounding pulse and flicking his tongue. His mouth was cool against Ed's feverish skin in contrast. He tasted salt and the faint, bitter tang of chemical from the lab.
Edward stiffened a little. Alfons slid his hands around Ed's waist, pulling him tight and hot against him for a moment while he moved his mouth up to Ed's and grazed his upper teeth over Ed's lower lip. A tiny sound came out of Ed's throat, and then he seemed to melt underneath Alfons, arms winding up around his and mouth open, breath warm and tongue wet across Alfons's lips.
That hot spike surged through him again and he pushed Ed away with gentle fingertips. "Get on the bed," he urged, feeling strangely confident about his upper hand for once.
Ed nodded, breathing hard, and shook his legs out of his pants as he crawled onto the bed. "What now?" He failed to sound nonchalant.
"Lie on your stomach," Alfons directed, and waited for Ed to comply, after a second's hesitation, before he followed him, sitting to Ed's side and putting a hand on his back.
Dear God, he thought, skating his eyes down the expanse of Edward's back and ass. Now this was a sight he could certainly become accustomed to. He brushed his hand tentatively over Ed, down and up through the gentle curve at the small of his back, the taut muscles pressing back against the pads of his fingers.
Ed made a noise that Alfons could feel, a low whine in his chest, as his hand moved across his back. Edward's hips bucked sharply down into the bed when Alfons reached his ass and took his hand away.
Muscles tensed visibly, the blond head buried in the pillow popped up, and Ed craned his neck around to look at Alfons. "Why'd you stop?"
"I just started!" Alfons protested. "Edward, you're going to have to relax for this."
"Well...can we at least turn the lights off?" Ed shifted up onto his elbows and let out a shuddering sigh, dropping his head down so his bangs floated atop the pillow. "This is so weird."
The new position made Alfons catch his breath. The curve of Ed's back was so - so graceful, so entirely in opposition to Edward himself. He was constantly a flurry of movement and accidents waiting to happen.
Alfons pushed on the top of Ed's back with his hand. That odd, calm, inner confidence grew with every uncertain movement and word of Edward's. "No, definitely not. You - you don't have to look at me if you don't want to," he said, feeling magnanimous about the concession. "Just stay there and relax."
Ed sighed again, this time in frustration and perhaps embarrassment, and collapsed his elbows out to his sides, resting his chin on his hands. "Okay," he said sullenly, "But I don't like it."
Alfons chuckled, and he could almost feel Ed rolling his eyes at the wall. He scooted up on the bed, draping an arm over Ed's shoulder and putting his mouth against Ed's ear. "I hope you'll change your mind about that soon enough."
Ed shivered then and settled, like a balloon deflating. "You better make this worth it," he grumbled, and his eyelids sank slowly shut.
Alfons didn't answer, somewhat pleased with the idea of leaving Ed in perplexity. He reached over and opened the nightstand, pulled out the lube and then shut the drawer while Ed tilted his head slightly to watch.
Then he reached under the bed.
"What are you doing now?" Ed asked.
"Taking my shoes off," Alfons answered calmly, and pulled out the latest of his innovations in small rocket craft before untying his shoes and tossing each one on the floor with a clunk.
"Take the rest of it off, too; it's not fair," Ed muttered.
"Always in such a hurry," Alfons murmured, but started undressing anyway. He was going to show Edward the error of his ways tonight, he hoped, as he stood up to finish taking his clothes off, leaving the rocket on the bed for a moment.
The rocket, which looked innocent, like a child's toy. The rocket, which was a scale for a larger model, and had been lovingly adapted during the awkward hour or so that had ensued after their uncomfortable earlier discussion. (Rocket-fucking, I'll show him rocket-fucking, Alfons had thought with indignation, and then had to stop for a minute, to shake away the mental image he was conjuring up.) The rocket, which Alfons had gutted and then equipped to run on a nifty little battery designed by Edward Elric himself for an abandoned project they had worked on a few months earlier. Thank goodness for his creativity.
He crawled up on the bed behind Ed, nudged his legs apart and arranged himself in between them, then took a deep breath before tucking the tiny rocket in the crook of his knee. Wouldn't do for it to be ice-cold, he decided - although that thought certainly held merit for the future.
Slicking up his fingers, he parted Ed's legs a little further. He trailed a finger down the cleft of skin starting at the small of Ed's back and then spread Ed's buttocks slightly to gain access, provoking another whine from his partner.
"Okay," he breathed, and then rubbed a finger gently over Edward's anus, waiting for him to relax again before sliding the pad of one finger in.
Ed tensed up, then eased as Alfons pressed his finger slowly past tight muscle. "Not seeing anything so great about this," Ed commented flatly.
"Am I hurting you?" Alfons asked with concern, pausing for a moment, watching Ed's back muscles move under his skin.
"No," Ed admitted.
"Then I'm already doing a better job than you did when you tried this," Alfons pointed out. "Relax, man, for the love of God."
The only response was a deep, theatrical sigh from Edward. Alfons chose to ignore it, and followed the curve of Ed's thigh with his other hand. When Ed loosened up a bit around his finger, he added a second one. Ed tightened up a little longer this time, then relaxed again.
"Oh, wow," Ed said sarcastically to the headboard. "That's just really-"
Alfons hooked his fingers inward.
"-oh." Ed breathed, and buried his face in the pillow.
"Yeah. Oh." Alfons smirked and found the spot again with his fingertips. Ed muffled something loud, probably obscene, and incoherent into the pillow.
Alfons added a third finger, waited a moment, and then brushed against Ed's prostate again, more surely this time.
Ed's hips couldn't seem to decide whether to move back toward Alfons or thrust into the bed underneath him. Either way, his partner jerking with anticipation underneath him was one of the most beautiful things Alfons had ever seen.
Alfons pulled his fingers out and hastily slicked up the rocket, feeling anxiously one more time to make sure all the rough edges were smoothed down.
Ed's head shot up and he dragged in a breath. "Fuck, don't stop now!"
"Nothing so great about this, huh?" he retorted to the back of Edward's head.
Ed shook his head vehemently.
All right then, Alfons thought smugly, as he checked one more time to make sure the rocket was thoroughly lubed, and then introduced Edward's ass to the makeshift sex toy.
He pushed it in, slowly, until Ed squirmed underneath him and tried to turn his head around to look. "What the fuck is that?"
"You'll see in a moment," Alfons replied reassuringly. "Are you all right?"
Ed took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm okay, I guess. It feels strange." He flopped his head back down helplessly, his face to the side.
"Let me know when you're ready." Alfons sat back a little, waiting for him to adjust.
Ed finally nodded against the pillow. "Okay, go 'head, I guess. I still don't understand what you're doing."
"You are entirely too analytical, Edward," Alfons replied slyly, and flipped the switch on the bottom of the rocket, pressing it inward slightly.
Ed's reaction was instantaneous and glorious. He stiffened, twisted his upper body to one side helplessly, his legs squeezing Alfons between them; his bangs slid over his face, across half-lidded eyes darkened with lust, appled cheeks, and parted, ruddy lips, and his breath fanned them out on the tail-end of a ruttish moan. His hand bolted down to grab his cock, fisting it desperately.
Holy fuck, Alfons thought, gulping and drawing his own hissing breath. He stayed the rocket carefully for a moment while he untangled himself from Ed's legs and moved up into the curl of his body. He took Ed's wrist and wrangled his hand back up.
"Let go!" Ed cried, the last word almost a sob. Sweet Mary, he was gorgeous like this. Alfons had to fight back the urge to reach for his own cock in response.
"No," he contradicted, a bit shakily, winding his fingers through Edward's trembling ones. "Now you see, don't you?" Ed nodded furiously against the pillow, wordless, while Alfons reclined on one elbow, hooked one leg over both of Ed's knees and then drew his legs up toward Ed's center with his, still reaching around to hold the rocket in place.
Ed's breath came in gasps of sound, partially muted by the pillow. Alfons leaned in and licked a lazy line down Ed's collarbone, then up his neck. Ed curled down toward the sensation.
Poor bastard, Alfons thought with a grin. Ed was drawn together like a pillbug, and his pretense of bored reservation was in a million shattered pieces, probably strewn somewhere on the floor with their clothing.
"Rocket-fucking, Edward," Alfons whispered against Ed's open, panting mouth, and eased the toy rocket in a little more while he nipped at Ed's lower lip. "Not so ridiculous now, is it?"
"I," Ed started with an effort, then repeated the sound, unable to manage anything further. He thrust his hips forward and gripped Alfons's fingers tighter, trying to push their hands down to his cock. Alfons pulled their hands to his own crotch and rubbed on his own neglected erection instead.
In the back of Alfons's mind, there was a tiny, horrified voice demanding to know what the hell had come over him. He told it firmly to get lost.
"You like this, don't you, Edward?" Alfons breathed, hot against Ed's flushed ear, and ran his tongue around the outside of it delicately.
Ed shuddered and moaned again, encouraging.
Gripped by the sudden compulsion to make the most of Ed's incoherence, he continued talking in a low, caressing voice. "It feels good, doesn't it?" He moved their hands more insistently against his cock and licked Ed's upper lip, then dipped his tongue on a hot slide over his roommate's, Ed's affirmative groan soaring through his head. He captured Ed's lower lip between his, grazed his tongue across it, and released it with a slick, wet skid through his teeth. "You like being fucked, don't you?" Another keening noise caught in Ed's throat.
He realized that Ed had rolled over until he was almost on his back and he yearned after Alfons's mouth as he pulled away until he was dangerously close to a sitting position. Probably not exactly safe with that hard rocket in his ass, Alfons considered in a brief moment of clarity. He pushed Ed back down on the bed and pulled him back on his side.
He gripped the rocket firmly again and moved it in and out, making sure to angle it just so, mouthing and biting Ed's neck, licking beads of sweat away, and laying fervent, filthy words about being fucked against it and into Ed's ear, matching the rhythm with their still-twined fingers on his erection. Edward abruptly stiffened again and gave a whimper on a stroke in, thrust against Alfons, their hands and his cock, tightened his fingers on Alfons's so hard that it hurt, and convulsed helplessly with a stark, ruined sob.
And Alfons came right behind him, his face in Edward's neck, wordless and overcome, set off by the sudden slippery warmth that drenched their stomachs and the undone sound that rose out of Ed's throat.
He came to his senses a few moments later and hastily moved to take the still-vibrating rocket out of Edward's ass, flicking it off as he did so and letting it drop onto the bed. Ed's breath came out hard on Alfons's cheek as he dissolved into the bed.
Alfons disentangled their fingers and flopped back himself, too spent to even worry about the mess between them.
"Alfons?" Ed said weakly after a few minutes.
"Yeah."
"I think I get it now."
"Yeah."
Ed snaked across the bed and wriggled up against him. but Alfons winced a little as Ed's sticky stomach pressed up on his flank. "Ugh. Get up; let's clean up. Besides, you might be sore later; this will help." He took Ed's hand and coaxed him off the bed.
"Sore?" Ed asked as he reluctantly got up, then his eyes widened with realization. "Oh, sore." He looked embarrassed. "I see."
***
"Don't squish me," Ed instructed in a gruff tone, and pulled Alfons back against him.
The bathtub barely fit both of them, but that was okay, because Alfons fit perfectly against Edward's back, at just the right angle to prop his legs up on the front of the tub comfortably. Ed's legs crossed loosely underneath his, and Alfons was a bit surprised to find Ed threading his arms around his waist.
He knew if he called attention to that action, Ed would put an immediate stop to it out of sheer mortification. "Shut up," Alfons said idly instead, and settled for resting the back of his head gingerly against Ed's shoulder, putting a hand on his thigh, and closing his eyes.
"Um, Alfons?"
"Yeah."
"When did you, uh, discover that thing with the vibrations?"
He felt his ears turning red and slunk down further into the water. They were not having this conversation again. They simply weren't. He answered anyway. "A while ago," he muttered.
He had a feeling that "vibrations" was going to become one of those one-word inside joke things that Ed would throw casually at him once in a while just to screw with him when they were in the lab (probably nestled smugly in the margins of notes Ed handed off to him or something, the bastard), to end an argument that Ed couldn't win, or to otherwise fluster him in public. Leave it to Edward to find a way to hold this over his head even after Alfons had proved his point beyond a shadow of a doubt.
"But, uh, how?" Ed pressed.
Alfons shifted uncomfortably and took his hand away from Edward's leg. Ed wrapped his arms tighter. "Come on, I am really curious. How does someone decide one day he's gonna rub up on a rocket engine?"
"Are we going to have to discuss this repeatedly? Because I'd really rather not."
"Fine," Ed grumbled, and then he buried his face into Alfons's hair. "I was just asking."
Oh, Edward, Alfons thought, what are you doing to me? He sighed. "Well, before we were...before we were doing this," he brought a hand out of the water, trailing drops that plinked back into the tub, to gesture vaguely, since he still wasn't entirely certain what this was, "I was - well, I was frustrated."
He felt Ed grin against his scalp. "And desperate?"
"Oh, my God. Edward, just forget it." Alfons dropped down into the tub, away from Ed's face, humiliated. He studied the dripping faucet; he should really fix that, he thought obstinately, trying not to be angry.
Ed hauled him back up. "I was just teasing. Sheesh."
"Yeah, well, it wasn't funny. And besides," Alfons said, taking a deep breath and staring at his toes, "I was frustrated because of you."
"...Me?"
"Yes, you! You were so..." His words trailed off helplessly, and the silence that followed dripped away from them like the water leaking from the faucet. There was no way to finish his sentence.
He couldn't, just couldn't finish telling Edward that he had been attracted to him - no, infatuated with him - for months beforehand. Couldn't finish telling him that sometimes watching him work, watching him think, in that all-or-nothing way he had, was where Alfons had first seen who Ed might really be.
That passion had made Alfons start wondering how it would translate, for example, when he was kissed.
He didn't know, really, how his roommate felt about him at all, he realized; he had never considered it. They just were. For now, that seemed to work. And Alfons wasn't sure if this (whatever the hell it was) was going to work, yet, but he sincerely hoped that it would.
Ed appeared to have no response to that, and changed the subject a moment later. Thank goodness, Alfons thought.
And thank goodness Edward was so warm, he thought, half an hour later, after they clambered into bed, cursing the cold sheets, and he found to his amazement that Ed was curled up next to him, his head on Alfons's chest. Not quite snuggling, of course - oh, heaven forbid that - but lying on him nonetheless.
He tried to acknowledge it without too much affection. "I'm not your pillow," he pointed out.
"You're actually much better than my pillow," Ed answered matter-of-factly.
Alfons hmmphed out loud, but tentatively rested a hand against Ed's back, where it stayed for a few minutes, warming there. Then Ed shifted with a sudden movement, abruptly lifted his head and planted a crushing kiss on Alfons's mouth.
"What was that for?" Alfons asked in shock a few moments later, still reeling from the unexpectedness of it.
"Nothing." Ed moved uneasily next to him. "Alfons?"
"Yeah."
"You were so, too."
Yes, Alfons decided, this was probably going to work, after all.
Authors: cryogenia and asingulargirl
Genre: Humor/fluff/smut
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hei/Ed
Spoilers: None, unless you don't know who Heiderich is.
Word Count: 6,100-ish
Warnings: Shameless abuse of rockets. Sex toys. NWS, definitely NWS.
Notes: This started out as a totally innocent idea: a picture of Hei with a toy rocket. Cute, right? It didn't end up being that innocent.
He was not in a foul mood, precisely, by the time he got back to the laboratory, but his patience was definitely just on this side of "tried". Tried by every professor he had met with that evening, every ridiculous piece of paper he'd had to collect and fill out and then redistribute to other professors or their secretaries. The concept of a "university" was something that sounded excellent in theory, coming from Amestris where the State had controlled all education - and institutionalized research - with an iron fist, but in practice, Ed was starting to find it somehow lacking. How was a man to experiment with anything if he first had to justify to three separate parties why his materials were necessary? They needed better chemicals so he could formulate a better fuel; he knew the combinations would work because he did; why did he have to write them out?
Actually doing the equations, of course, had only led to more arguments, challenges. Ed had accepted one defeat with grace, but the others he was still not at all sure were valid. Okay, fine, if pressed, he would admit that at times he forgot the rules of this world were not quite the same as the one he had left. Or rather, they were; it was just that he was limited to a solitary set. Alchemical chemistry differed greatly from the regular type. Taking something apart on the molecular - or, with Ed's level of talent, the atomic - allowed you so many more ways to recombine them, without concern for intermediate reactions and precipitate and potential hazardous gases. The energy was all contained in the reaction, and it worked because the alchemist could form all the mass going in into new stable structures by the end of it. Once upon a time, he had been able to just put two things in beakers next to each other, and rearrange their contents until he had them Right.
Hell, once upon a time, he had precipitated himself glasses of water from the moisture in the very air, until his Teacher had smacked him and cowed him into not being lazy.
Ed palmed his key into the lock on their lab's door, noting only vaguely that it was locked at all, and slipped inside. It was just as well it had taken him so fucking long to get through all of that bs tonight. He enjoyed designing these experiments, but the actual labor, the note taking and implementation, was something that grew tedious with only a rudimentary prosthetic to copy down observations with.
He entered the section of the warehouse-like building where their allotted space was, a mess of half-built projects and wooden sawhorses warding people away from potential exhaust danger. They had been using a jerry-rigged system of engines built into the cut up chassises of some old, scrapped planes to test burn times for various fuels. Decommissioned war planes, the professor in charge had told them when they started, with a certain tightness about the eyes that had told Ed not to ask too much more. Alfons got that way sometimes too, though he was quicker to rebound and natter on about the glory their work was going to return to his homeland.
Ed had said nothing then, either. At least Alfons's vision for Germany was much more harmless than Scar's had been for the Ishval.
From the sound of it, one of the engine-systems was still idling. A dull thrum echoed through the empty lab, and Ed winced a little and fished his ear plugs out of his jacket pocket. Warming up before a full burn? He followed the noise to its source in the far corner.
His shoulder ached from a full day of working the awkward false-automail, but he supposed he could at least hold the stopwatch. He really ought to make his prolonged absence up to Alfons-
He rounded the corner, choked on an incoming breath, and stopped dead in his tracks as he spied his lab partner leaning back against the thrumming chassis. The first thing that crossed his mind was that this was about fifteen lab safety and ethics violations right there. The second was that it might just be the hottest thing he had seen in his life.
Alfons Heiderich, his research and sometime bedroom partner, had his back and ass up against the riveted surface of the modified engine chamber, his legs spread apart, and a hand down his pants. His lips were moving wordlessly as the rest of him trembled, against both the vibration from the powerful motor and the natural tremors in legs that looked like they were only half-holding him. His left hand, through the slight opening his fly permitted, looked like it was doing sinful things. Ed's own hands shook with envy.
He had never seen the man pleasure himself before, he realized faintly. They had touched each other, yes - in fits and starts, at first only under the cover of darkness - but he had never been able to just sit back and watch like this before. Details. Little details. Alfons's eyes were closed, though the lids were ever so slightly fluttering. His free hand was splayed out to the side, clutching at the metal as if anchoring him. Ed felt a hot rush streak down his own front, to his groin. Alfons had his ear plugs in. He couldn't see him. Couldn't hear him. What kind of balls must it have taken to do this in such a potentially public place? Quiet, reasonable Alfons, pressed up against that thing, shuddering like that...
Alfons ground his tail end just a little harder against the chassis, and something about the motion started Ed out of it. Like it or not, it was a bad thing to gawk like this. Alfons would be embarrassed. It was horribly inappropriate in the first place. Even if it was amazing.
Reluctantly, Ed slunk around to the far end of the work area and shouted out his friend's name, four times louder than normal to compensate for the ear plugs.
"Hey Alfons, I'm back!"
No response. He tried again, a little louder. Alfons still failed to hear him over the engine.
Well, fuck Ed thought sulkily. He had hoped that by shouting from a distance, Alfons would have time to collect himself, and they could operate under the polite illusion that perhaps Ed hadn't seen what he was doing. But well, it was Alfons's choice to do this in the lab to begin with, he supposed. He could handle a little embarrassment.
He crossed back to where Alfons was (oh sweet mother of fuck) writhing a little against the engine chassis and punched him lightly in the shoulder.
"HEY, ALFONS!"
It was lucky in retrospect he had chosen to come in close and surprise him, because otherwise Alfons would have probably fallen face first and cracked his head open on the concrete lab floor. As it was, he nearly yanked his cock off on the next stroke.
"Edward!" the man yelped three octaves higher than usual, and his hand actually got caught in the front of his pants for a moment before he remembered how to get it out. Ed hung onto Alfons's other elbow, stabilizing him, as he attempted to find his legs and do up his pants fly. He did the latter in what looked to be record time.
"Yeah, who did you think it was going to be?" Ed said sarcastically, though truthfully, he did feel kind of bad. Alfons looked like he'd damn near had a heart attack.
All the more reason why you DON'T do that in public, Ed thought, annoyed. Damn the man for having such a sweet, scared little expression. It pissed him off that it was hard for him to stay truly pissed off at Alfons.
Alfons stepped away from the engine, wiped his left hand discretely against the side of his trousers. Edward crooked his finger and indicated for them to come away to a far corner, where they could take out their ear plugs and thus no longer need to shout.
"I'm sorry," Alfons babbled almost immediately. He did look sorry, too - being caught red-handed had left his face and neck similarly scarlet. He looked like he was blushing all the way down to the roots of his hair. "Oh god, I didn't mean-"
He couldn't resist a little teasing. "What, couldn't wait to get home to flush out the pipes?" Ed snarked crudely. Alfons's mouth snapped shut immediately, and the corners of his mouth tightened in embarrassment. "Could have at least tried the bathroom."
Alfons said nothing, averted his eyes. It was strangely heady, having someone nearly a full (augh how he hated to admit that) head height taller than him shy away. Ed, amused, prodded some more.
"Or are you that attached to your work? I mean I know they tell you to love what you do, but--"
"I was," Alfons cut in, voice thin but tense, like a struck piano wire, "hoping maybe it wouldn't take you two hours to get back, so we could go home and have some privacy."
Edward huffed. "It wasn't that long!" he protested. "And Professor Edelstein was a right bastard about signing anything."
"Yes, it was that long," Alfons countered. "I've been timing experiments with the watch; I know how long it's been. Everyone else left ages ago." His annoyance at being challenged seemed to have help him forget some of his embarrassment, though. He was looking a little less terrified. "But Professor Edelstein is a bastard, I'll agree."
The tension between them had eased somewhat. Edward bopped his friend in the arm again.
"So what do you have left to do tonight? Other than me?"
"Edward!" Alfons's tone was angry. And fearful. His eyes darted about in that shamed way Edward was unfortunately used to, and the tension surged up once more. He understood rationally that it was a valid reaction, but damn if it didn't still hurt.
"Well fuck, there's no one here!" he growled, spreading his arms wide. "You're so worried about that when you had your hand down your fucking pants!? It was just a joke, hell."
Please don't be ashamed of me.
"You know why we can't," Alfons said tightly. "Not even in jokes." He made an effort to meet Ed's eyes again, though. "I've just got a few last runs for number thirty-four, that's all. I figured since you were taking your time, maybe we could finish around eight and go get a late dinner."
He smiled again, softly. "I know a cheap place that has white sausages on Thursday."
"Ooh, I'm all ears."
Alfons laughed at that. "No, you're all stomach. It's a miracle you haven't eaten me out of house and home yet."
"Shut up, you." It was Ed's turn to have his ears burn scarlet.
His friend slapped him on the back and popped his ear plugs back in, started walking quickly, if stiffly, back toward the experiment setup. They did finish by eight, and the little beer hall did in fact have excellent white sausages.
Ed made a noble effort restraining himself from pointing out what they reminded him of.
***
Later, in the relative safety of their flat, Ed lay on his stomach on their bed surreptitiously contemplating the flat plane of Alfons's ass. His roommate was not a bad looking man by anyone's standards; neither was his ass. Somehow, though, how Alfons looked had just never been so much on his radar. Perhaps it was because he was never allowed to just sit back and look...or hell, if he were honest with himself, because he just hadn't thought of it. In the dark, it was easy not to think too much about anything but the feel of slender fingers down the front of his pants, the sharp hiss of breathing.
Those slender fingers down the front of Alfons's own pants. That not-bad-looking, maybe even very fine looking, ass, grinding up against the humming engine chassis.
Edward gathered his legs up beneath him on the bed, just a little bit, trying to ease some pressure off a rapidly swelling portion of his anatomy.
Alfons turned round from where he was tidying his desk, giving Ed a good eye-level view of his definitely not-at-all-bad-looking groin area, and Ed could no longer resist asking.
"So uh, seriously - what is it about the engine?"
"Pardon?" Alfons didn't look upset so much as out and out confused.
Ed propped himself up on one elbow (careful to make sure his own groin and the tent he had pitched there was still hidden) and tried again. "You were all squirming against it," he pointed out. "Looked like you were having some fun." He gave the man a wolfish grin.
Alfons got it then. He started and scowled, though his ears betrayed a slight flush.
"I don't see how that is any of your business."
Ed grinned wider, amused again at how easy it was to fluster the guy. Hypocritical, probably, considering he thought he would probably damn well die of embarrassment if Alfons ever walked in on him, but well, that's what also made this so interesting. It was funny, and also an intriguing phenomenon to study, because it wasn't him.
"C'mon, I mean, we both do it," he said. "It's not that embarrassing."
"Easy for you to say," Alfons huffed. "You're not the one having your nose rubbed in it."
Ouch. Ed blanched.
"Sorry."
"...why are you asking, anyway?"
Ed rolled up a little further onto his side. "I dunno, I was just sort of wondering if there was a reason for it."
"I'm not 'in love with my work', okay?" Alfons glared. "So you can avoid trying that joke again. It was poor enough the first time."
Ed harrumphed to himself moodily. He hadn't thought his jibe was that bad, or that tasteless. "You have no sense of humor," he complained.
"You have no sense of what's appropriate."
"Hey, I'm not the guy rubbing my ass on a rocket!" Ed shot back. "What the fuck was that, anyway? Is there something about you I should know, Alfons? Cause that was really weird, okay?" And hot, a wicked part of his brain reminded himself. Very hot.
Alfons looked away.
"I just wanted to know," Edward said.
"...fine," Alfons said quietly. "If you must you know...it's the ah, vibrations from the engine."
Ed blinked. He considered a couple things in his head.
"Yeah, but - you had your ass to it. Not your front."
Alfons sighed. "And like I've told you before, there is a reason people like to be fucked. There are lots of nerves back there..."
Ed shook his head.
"I still think you're crazy, no offense," he said. "I can't even get a finger in there without it hurting like a bitch."
Alfons snorted. "How am I not supposed to take offense when you call me crazy? And you hypocrite, you've tried it!?"
"Only once," Ed countered. "After you were carping on about it."
"I was not carping! I mentioned it once-"
"Yesterday?"
"Okay twice-"
"More than that. You've been on that for three weeks at least."
"Because you're being silly," Alfons hissed, looking more and more agitated. "I never said you had to, and I always offered to let you top, and you just keep insisting of all things that it can't possibly feel good, and I'm here to tell you that I know it does, I'm living proof! So if that's your theoretical excuse then you just need to find another one. Tell the truth, Edward. If you don't want to, that's fine. I understand."
Alfons's eyes said otherwise, though; pitifully resigned. Also, accusatory. Look, I make so many concessions for you, they said, and Ed gritted his teeth. Yeah, like hell he did.
"Well, fine then," Ed growled. "What, you think I'm scared? You think I'm chicken? I tell you what, next time you're wanting to go rocket-fucking, let me know, I'll take you up on that."
"I'd love to know how that is supposed to feel good, Alfons. I really would," he concluded, flopping back onto his belly.
"...oh really?"
The predatory glint in Alfons's eyes should have been a warning, but Edward's eyes were unfortunately looking down toward the mattress.
***
"This is weird," Ed said, pulling out his shirttails in short, erratic jerks. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
I can't believe it either, Alfons thought dryly, watching Ed's vest slide off his arms.
Ed started in on the buttons on his shirt, his left hand trembling, fumbling a little bit. "And besides, why does it matter, anyway? We both get off in the end, right?"
...The weakest excuse Alfons had ever heard. Really, Edward, you could do better, Alfons thought. He concentrated on watching Ed's chest appear, tan skin peeking out from under the strap from his prosthetic - and no less tantalizing for the obstruction - and counted to five before answering in an effort to keep his tone cool. "If that's the case, then, by your own logic, this should be no problem for you whatsoever."
Edward stopped and stared at him for a moment, then looked annoyed with himself. "Yeah, yeah." The shirt slid off and pooled on the ground on top of his vest with a soft rustle of fabric. "So what do I do now?"
Alfons raised an eyebrow and exhaled through his nostrils. Ed was flushed, a sheet of pink spreading from his cheeks down through his face, neck and chest and all the way up to his scalp. Alfons felt a spike of warmth rush through his abdomen. "Take off your pants and get on the bed," he found himself saying in an authoritative tone.
Ed's eyes widened slightly and he frowned, pupils narrowing, like he might rebel for a moment, but then he relaxed and began on his pants. "Give a man an inch," he muttered, his belt clanging as he unbuckled it.
Biting back a wry comment about the number of inches involved, Alfons moved closer to Ed and put a hand on his tense shoulder. This wouldn't do at all. It was crucial for Ed to loosen up if this was going to work, and Alfons already had a strong feeling that Ed was going to be dubiously receptive to this at best, at least until-
He was getting ahead of himself. His first priority was making Edward pliant. He leaned forward, putting lips on Ed's neck, just under his jaw, raking his teeth across Ed's pounding pulse and flicking his tongue. His mouth was cool against Ed's feverish skin in contrast. He tasted salt and the faint, bitter tang of chemical from the lab.
Edward stiffened a little. Alfons slid his hands around Ed's waist, pulling him tight and hot against him for a moment while he moved his mouth up to Ed's and grazed his upper teeth over Ed's lower lip. A tiny sound came out of Ed's throat, and then he seemed to melt underneath Alfons, arms winding up around his and mouth open, breath warm and tongue wet across Alfons's lips.
That hot spike surged through him again and he pushed Ed away with gentle fingertips. "Get on the bed," he urged, feeling strangely confident about his upper hand for once.
Ed nodded, breathing hard, and shook his legs out of his pants as he crawled onto the bed. "What now?" He failed to sound nonchalant.
"Lie on your stomach," Alfons directed, and waited for Ed to comply, after a second's hesitation, before he followed him, sitting to Ed's side and putting a hand on his back.
Dear God, he thought, skating his eyes down the expanse of Edward's back and ass. Now this was a sight he could certainly become accustomed to. He brushed his hand tentatively over Ed, down and up through the gentle curve at the small of his back, the taut muscles pressing back against the pads of his fingers.
Ed made a noise that Alfons could feel, a low whine in his chest, as his hand moved across his back. Edward's hips bucked sharply down into the bed when Alfons reached his ass and took his hand away.
Muscles tensed visibly, the blond head buried in the pillow popped up, and Ed craned his neck around to look at Alfons. "Why'd you stop?"
"I just started!" Alfons protested. "Edward, you're going to have to relax for this."
"Well...can we at least turn the lights off?" Ed shifted up onto his elbows and let out a shuddering sigh, dropping his head down so his bangs floated atop the pillow. "This is so weird."
The new position made Alfons catch his breath. The curve of Ed's back was so - so graceful, so entirely in opposition to Edward himself. He was constantly a flurry of movement and accidents waiting to happen.
Alfons pushed on the top of Ed's back with his hand. That odd, calm, inner confidence grew with every uncertain movement and word of Edward's. "No, definitely not. You - you don't have to look at me if you don't want to," he said, feeling magnanimous about the concession. "Just stay there and relax."
Ed sighed again, this time in frustration and perhaps embarrassment, and collapsed his elbows out to his sides, resting his chin on his hands. "Okay," he said sullenly, "But I don't like it."
Alfons chuckled, and he could almost feel Ed rolling his eyes at the wall. He scooted up on the bed, draping an arm over Ed's shoulder and putting his mouth against Ed's ear. "I hope you'll change your mind about that soon enough."
Ed shivered then and settled, like a balloon deflating. "You better make this worth it," he grumbled, and his eyelids sank slowly shut.
Alfons didn't answer, somewhat pleased with the idea of leaving Ed in perplexity. He reached over and opened the nightstand, pulled out the lube and then shut the drawer while Ed tilted his head slightly to watch.
Then he reached under the bed.
"What are you doing now?" Ed asked.
"Taking my shoes off," Alfons answered calmly, and pulled out the latest of his innovations in small rocket craft before untying his shoes and tossing each one on the floor with a clunk.
"Take the rest of it off, too; it's not fair," Ed muttered.
"Always in such a hurry," Alfons murmured, but started undressing anyway. He was going to show Edward the error of his ways tonight, he hoped, as he stood up to finish taking his clothes off, leaving the rocket on the bed for a moment.
The rocket, which looked innocent, like a child's toy. The rocket, which was a scale for a larger model, and had been lovingly adapted during the awkward hour or so that had ensued after their uncomfortable earlier discussion. (Rocket-fucking, I'll show him rocket-fucking, Alfons had thought with indignation, and then had to stop for a minute, to shake away the mental image he was conjuring up.) The rocket, which Alfons had gutted and then equipped to run on a nifty little battery designed by Edward Elric himself for an abandoned project they had worked on a few months earlier. Thank goodness for his creativity.
He crawled up on the bed behind Ed, nudged his legs apart and arranged himself in between them, then took a deep breath before tucking the tiny rocket in the crook of his knee. Wouldn't do for it to be ice-cold, he decided - although that thought certainly held merit for the future.
Slicking up his fingers, he parted Ed's legs a little further. He trailed a finger down the cleft of skin starting at the small of Ed's back and then spread Ed's buttocks slightly to gain access, provoking another whine from his partner.
"Okay," he breathed, and then rubbed a finger gently over Edward's anus, waiting for him to relax again before sliding the pad of one finger in.
Ed tensed up, then eased as Alfons pressed his finger slowly past tight muscle. "Not seeing anything so great about this," Ed commented flatly.
"Am I hurting you?" Alfons asked with concern, pausing for a moment, watching Ed's back muscles move under his skin.
"No," Ed admitted.
"Then I'm already doing a better job than you did when you tried this," Alfons pointed out. "Relax, man, for the love of God."
The only response was a deep, theatrical sigh from Edward. Alfons chose to ignore it, and followed the curve of Ed's thigh with his other hand. When Ed loosened up a bit around his finger, he added a second one. Ed tightened up a little longer this time, then relaxed again.
"Oh, wow," Ed said sarcastically to the headboard. "That's just really-"
Alfons hooked his fingers inward.
"-oh." Ed breathed, and buried his face in the pillow.
"Yeah. Oh." Alfons smirked and found the spot again with his fingertips. Ed muffled something loud, probably obscene, and incoherent into the pillow.
Alfons added a third finger, waited a moment, and then brushed against Ed's prostate again, more surely this time.
Ed's hips couldn't seem to decide whether to move back toward Alfons or thrust into the bed underneath him. Either way, his partner jerking with anticipation underneath him was one of the most beautiful things Alfons had ever seen.
Alfons pulled his fingers out and hastily slicked up the rocket, feeling anxiously one more time to make sure all the rough edges were smoothed down.
Ed's head shot up and he dragged in a breath. "Fuck, don't stop now!"
"Nothing so great about this, huh?" he retorted to the back of Edward's head.
Ed shook his head vehemently.
All right then, Alfons thought smugly, as he checked one more time to make sure the rocket was thoroughly lubed, and then introduced Edward's ass to the makeshift sex toy.
He pushed it in, slowly, until Ed squirmed underneath him and tried to turn his head around to look. "What the fuck is that?"
"You'll see in a moment," Alfons replied reassuringly. "Are you all right?"
Ed took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm okay, I guess. It feels strange." He flopped his head back down helplessly, his face to the side.
"Let me know when you're ready." Alfons sat back a little, waiting for him to adjust.
Ed finally nodded against the pillow. "Okay, go 'head, I guess. I still don't understand what you're doing."
"You are entirely too analytical, Edward," Alfons replied slyly, and flipped the switch on the bottom of the rocket, pressing it inward slightly.
Ed's reaction was instantaneous and glorious. He stiffened, twisted his upper body to one side helplessly, his legs squeezing Alfons between them; his bangs slid over his face, across half-lidded eyes darkened with lust, appled cheeks, and parted, ruddy lips, and his breath fanned them out on the tail-end of a ruttish moan. His hand bolted down to grab his cock, fisting it desperately.
Holy fuck, Alfons thought, gulping and drawing his own hissing breath. He stayed the rocket carefully for a moment while he untangled himself from Ed's legs and moved up into the curl of his body. He took Ed's wrist and wrangled his hand back up.
"Let go!" Ed cried, the last word almost a sob. Sweet Mary, he was gorgeous like this. Alfons had to fight back the urge to reach for his own cock in response.
"No," he contradicted, a bit shakily, winding his fingers through Edward's trembling ones. "Now you see, don't you?" Ed nodded furiously against the pillow, wordless, while Alfons reclined on one elbow, hooked one leg over both of Ed's knees and then drew his legs up toward Ed's center with his, still reaching around to hold the rocket in place.
Ed's breath came in gasps of sound, partially muted by the pillow. Alfons leaned in and licked a lazy line down Ed's collarbone, then up his neck. Ed curled down toward the sensation.
Poor bastard, Alfons thought with a grin. Ed was drawn together like a pillbug, and his pretense of bored reservation was in a million shattered pieces, probably strewn somewhere on the floor with their clothing.
"Rocket-fucking, Edward," Alfons whispered against Ed's open, panting mouth, and eased the toy rocket in a little more while he nipped at Ed's lower lip. "Not so ridiculous now, is it?"
"I," Ed started with an effort, then repeated the sound, unable to manage anything further. He thrust his hips forward and gripped Alfons's fingers tighter, trying to push their hands down to his cock. Alfons pulled their hands to his own crotch and rubbed on his own neglected erection instead.
In the back of Alfons's mind, there was a tiny, horrified voice demanding to know what the hell had come over him. He told it firmly to get lost.
"You like this, don't you, Edward?" Alfons breathed, hot against Ed's flushed ear, and ran his tongue around the outside of it delicately.
Ed shuddered and moaned again, encouraging.
Gripped by the sudden compulsion to make the most of Ed's incoherence, he continued talking in a low, caressing voice. "It feels good, doesn't it?" He moved their hands more insistently against his cock and licked Ed's upper lip, then dipped his tongue on a hot slide over his roommate's, Ed's affirmative groan soaring through his head. He captured Ed's lower lip between his, grazed his tongue across it, and released it with a slick, wet skid through his teeth. "You like being fucked, don't you?" Another keening noise caught in Ed's throat.
He realized that Ed had rolled over until he was almost on his back and he yearned after Alfons's mouth as he pulled away until he was dangerously close to a sitting position. Probably not exactly safe with that hard rocket in his ass, Alfons considered in a brief moment of clarity. He pushed Ed back down on the bed and pulled him back on his side.
He gripped the rocket firmly again and moved it in and out, making sure to angle it just so, mouthing and biting Ed's neck, licking beads of sweat away, and laying fervent, filthy words about being fucked against it and into Ed's ear, matching the rhythm with their still-twined fingers on his erection. Edward abruptly stiffened again and gave a whimper on a stroke in, thrust against Alfons, their hands and his cock, tightened his fingers on Alfons's so hard that it hurt, and convulsed helplessly with a stark, ruined sob.
And Alfons came right behind him, his face in Edward's neck, wordless and overcome, set off by the sudden slippery warmth that drenched their stomachs and the undone sound that rose out of Ed's throat.
He came to his senses a few moments later and hastily moved to take the still-vibrating rocket out of Edward's ass, flicking it off as he did so and letting it drop onto the bed. Ed's breath came out hard on Alfons's cheek as he dissolved into the bed.
Alfons disentangled their fingers and flopped back himself, too spent to even worry about the mess between them.
"Alfons?" Ed said weakly after a few minutes.
"Yeah."
"I think I get it now."
"Yeah."
Ed snaked across the bed and wriggled up against him. but Alfons winced a little as Ed's sticky stomach pressed up on his flank. "Ugh. Get up; let's clean up. Besides, you might be sore later; this will help." He took Ed's hand and coaxed him off the bed.
"Sore?" Ed asked as he reluctantly got up, then his eyes widened with realization. "Oh, sore." He looked embarrassed. "I see."
***
"Don't squish me," Ed instructed in a gruff tone, and pulled Alfons back against him.
The bathtub barely fit both of them, but that was okay, because Alfons fit perfectly against Edward's back, at just the right angle to prop his legs up on the front of the tub comfortably. Ed's legs crossed loosely underneath his, and Alfons was a bit surprised to find Ed threading his arms around his waist.
He knew if he called attention to that action, Ed would put an immediate stop to it out of sheer mortification. "Shut up," Alfons said idly instead, and settled for resting the back of his head gingerly against Ed's shoulder, putting a hand on his thigh, and closing his eyes.
"Um, Alfons?"
"Yeah."
"When did you, uh, discover that thing with the vibrations?"
He felt his ears turning red and slunk down further into the water. They were not having this conversation again. They simply weren't. He answered anyway. "A while ago," he muttered.
He had a feeling that "vibrations" was going to become one of those one-word inside joke things that Ed would throw casually at him once in a while just to screw with him when they were in the lab (probably nestled smugly in the margins of notes Ed handed off to him or something, the bastard), to end an argument that Ed couldn't win, or to otherwise fluster him in public. Leave it to Edward to find a way to hold this over his head even after Alfons had proved his point beyond a shadow of a doubt.
"But, uh, how?" Ed pressed.
Alfons shifted uncomfortably and took his hand away from Edward's leg. Ed wrapped his arms tighter. "Come on, I am really curious. How does someone decide one day he's gonna rub up on a rocket engine?"
"Are we going to have to discuss this repeatedly? Because I'd really rather not."
"Fine," Ed grumbled, and then he buried his face into Alfons's hair. "I was just asking."
Oh, Edward, Alfons thought, what are you doing to me? He sighed. "Well, before we were...before we were doing this," he brought a hand out of the water, trailing drops that plinked back into the tub, to gesture vaguely, since he still wasn't entirely certain what this was, "I was - well, I was frustrated."
He felt Ed grin against his scalp. "And desperate?"
"Oh, my God. Edward, just forget it." Alfons dropped down into the tub, away from Ed's face, humiliated. He studied the dripping faucet; he should really fix that, he thought obstinately, trying not to be angry.
Ed hauled him back up. "I was just teasing. Sheesh."
"Yeah, well, it wasn't funny. And besides," Alfons said, taking a deep breath and staring at his toes, "I was frustrated because of you."
"...Me?"
"Yes, you! You were so..." His words trailed off helplessly, and the silence that followed dripped away from them like the water leaking from the faucet. There was no way to finish his sentence.
He couldn't, just couldn't finish telling Edward that he had been attracted to him - no, infatuated with him - for months beforehand. Couldn't finish telling him that sometimes watching him work, watching him think, in that all-or-nothing way he had, was where Alfons had first seen who Ed might really be.
That passion had made Alfons start wondering how it would translate, for example, when he was kissed.
He didn't know, really, how his roommate felt about him at all, he realized; he had never considered it. They just were. For now, that seemed to work. And Alfons wasn't sure if this (whatever the hell it was) was going to work, yet, but he sincerely hoped that it would.
Ed appeared to have no response to that, and changed the subject a moment later. Thank goodness, Alfons thought.
And thank goodness Edward was so warm, he thought, half an hour later, after they clambered into bed, cursing the cold sheets, and he found to his amazement that Ed was curled up next to him, his head on Alfons's chest. Not quite snuggling, of course - oh, heaven forbid that - but lying on him nonetheless.
He tried to acknowledge it without too much affection. "I'm not your pillow," he pointed out.
"You're actually much better than my pillow," Ed answered matter-of-factly.
Alfons hmmphed out loud, but tentatively rested a hand against Ed's back, where it stayed for a few minutes, warming there. Then Ed shifted with a sudden movement, abruptly lifted his head and planted a crushing kiss on Alfons's mouth.
"What was that for?" Alfons asked in shock a few moments later, still reeling from the unexpectedness of it.
"Nothing." Ed moved uneasily next to him. "Alfons?"
"Yeah."
"You were so, too."
Yes, Alfons decided, this was probably going to work, after all.