Fic: The Phoney War, Interlude: Test Drive
Title: The Phoney War, Interlude: Test Drive
Setting: Fullmetal Alchemist, mangaverse, post-series, slight ending AU.
Characters: Roy/Ed
Rating: NC-17 for sexing
Word count: 2814
Summary: he half-wondered if they were going to end up in the bedroom, or if Mustang was leading him to a less sexy room in order to tell him he'd had second thoughts about the whole idiot idea.
Notes: You really don't have to know much about the plot of The Phoney War to get the uh, 'plot' of this piece.
More notes: ETA that I quite forgot to thank enemytosleep and seatbeltdrivein for their excellent suggestions and betaings. Thanks so much, dudes! Sorry I'm a churl. *_*;
So, here they were, then.
This felt kind of - different, Ed thought to himself as he jogged up the steps to Mustang's building in the warm evening.
He fingered the keys in his pocket, and felt weird about them. He'd had them for the library, which made sense enough - except that he wasn't coming over for the library right now, not even supposedly.
He was coming here to have sex. Deliberate sex. Non-accidental sex. Ed wasn't quite sure how you had accidental sex, only that he had a long and storied history of doing it.
He'd spent about half the day accidentally thinking about the sort of non-accidental things they might be doing to each other tonight. In retrospect, that was a mistake. He must be worked up, that must be why he felt all twitchy. Or maybe he shouldn't have had that last cup of coffee? He bounced on his heels. Then he took a breath, and rang the doorbell firmly. He listened for footsteps coming down from the top floor, and after a few moments, he heard them, tapping down the big spiral staircase inside. He bounced on his heels some more.
The door opened, and there was Mustang, in his uniform pants and a shirt that looked suspiciously crisp for one that he'd been wearing all day. Mustang looked at Ed. Ed looked at Mustang. Mustang said, "Come in," tilted his head and smiled, all cool. It kind of made him look nervous.
Ed said, "Okay," because he thought he ought to say something back, and then he decided that 'okay' sounded dorky and he should have just said nothing and walked in. Then he realised that he was still standing on the doorstep. He broke eye contact, looked around frantically for something else to look at to make him look casual, and then walked in and had to almost barge past Mustang, who shuffled back so he could get through.
Well, that wasn't awkward at all.
Ed walked up the stairs behind Mustang, absently staring at his ass through the butt-skirt. So, this is what he did now? He'd gone from ugh, it's Mustang to yo, want to get some lunch to great ass, wish there were fewer clothes on it. This would teach him to try to see the best in people.
Mustang looked back at him and gave him another nervous, fake-cool smile as he opened the door to his apartment. Ed followed Mustang along the hallway to - oh, huh, the kitchen. He'd only just stopped himself from taking a swerve towards the bedroom, where he'd stupidly assumed they were going to end up. Then he half-wondered if they were going to end up in the bedroom, or if Mustang was leading him to a less sexy room in order to tell him he'd had second thoughts about the whole idiot idea.
"Can I get you a drink?" asked Mustang. His head was tilted, as if Ed had done something funny.
"No, I'm cool." Had Ed done something funny? Had he spaced out again? Oh, hell, he had, hadn't he? Shit, focus. "Hey, actually, a glass of water would be great."
Ed watched Mustang fill a glass at the tap, with a horrible tight feeling in his belly. He let his eyes drift from Mustang to the window. The nearest window of the apartment block opposite was open, curtains lifting and blowing out slightly in the evening breeze.
Mustang held the glass out. Ed gave him a smile, and took it. "Thanks."
It was cold in his hand. The moment the first sip of water hit his mouth, he realised how thirsty he was. He tipped his head back and downed the whole thing. As he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, Ed realised Mustang was staring. He gave Ed a twitchy little smirk.
Ed snorted. Mustang shook his head and returned the snort. The smirk turned into a grin, briefly, then it vanished.
They looked at each other again, then away. Ed wondered, briefly, what had happened to all the suave. The guy he was seeing right now was the Mustang whom he'd only gotten to know recently, the man with uncertainties and bouts of scary exhaustion, the guy who threw peanuts at him at lunch, whose whole face looked different when he laughed unselfconsciously.
Ed liked that guy; he had to admit it.
He put the glass of water down on the kitchen counter with a solid click.
"Okay," Ed said. "Could we just - hit the bedroom?"
Mustang raised an eyebrow. For a moment, Ed felt mortified and defensive. Then the smirk appeared, and for the first time in recent history, it looked real. "Of course we can."
They walked the few paces there in single file. Ed watched Mustang's butt again as he walked. It felt weird to be doing that without pretending not to. When they got in the bedroom, Mustang just kind of stood there, facing Ed, still staring. The smile had faded. Ed shifted towards him - then hesitated for a moment, feeling somehow, obscurely dumb again. Mustang tilted his head a little. Ed followed the tilt, gave him a half-apologetic grin. Mustang huffed out a little laugh - Ed snorted in return - and then Mustang leaned forward, put his hands into Ed's hair, and kissed him.
The kiss was a lot slower than most of their kisses up until now. It was the kind of kiss Ed imagined Mustang giving when he was doing the proper seduction thing. His teeth scraped Ed's lower lip gently. One hand shoved into his hair, and the other wandered down Ed's collar and started to undo the buttons of Ed's shirt. Ed kissed back, and pushed forward a bit, but found himself held in place. Ugh, annoying. This was the kind of thing Ling used to pull when he got in his king-of-everything moods. So. So - Ed fisted his hands into Mustang's shirt, took aim, and shoved him straight back onto the bed.
Mustang went down with an undignified yelp. It was great. Ed happily threw himself after, landing on the mattress with his knees boxing Mustang's hips. He grinned, hanging over him, but Mustang was oddly unfazed. He just grinned back, and pulled Ed down by his open shirt. Ed's insides lurched up and down like he was in a fast elevator.
This kiss was messier. More followed it. After Ed pulled his own shirt off, Mustang seemed to give up on the clothing removal in favour of groping Ed's butt, so Ed decided to work on getting Mustang's clothes off. Shirt first, with Mustang unbuttoning the bottom part as Ed did the top, so that their hands met in the middle, clumsily. The trousers got kind of annoying. One day, Ed supposed he would learn some sexy way to take someone's pants off them, but until then, it was going to be hauling them off, hand over hand. At least he managed to get the socks off at the same time.
Then, there he was: Ed's commanding officer, lying there naked, propped up on his elbows, grinning wickedly at him. Ed was still in his pants and boots. His cock twitched hard. Ed let his eyes slide up and down Mustang's body. Ed finally had a chance to stare at it now, and it was worth a stare. Good shoulders, good arms. The burn scar, which Ed hadn't had a chance to look at before, was the size of Ed's hand and weirdly enough, in nearly exactly the same place as the scar on Ed's own waist. He didn't really have any hair on his chest, just that little trail starting from his navel and heading down into his pubes. Ed ran his fingers down it, experimentally, landing at the root of Mustang's cock. He was at half-mast already. Ed scootched down the bed, propped his chin on his right hand, and started lightly working Mustang up with the other hand.
Ed looked up again. Mustang did a dorky little eyebrow wiggle. Ed snorted. Mustang said, casually, "You're completely fucking stunning. You know that, right?"
Ed could feel himself going red like an idiot. It was just the way the guy said it, looking him right in the eye and making him feel transparent. Ling had told him he was beautiful. Winry had told him he was gorgeous. The theremin chick had told him he was a cutie, and Al's friend Michael hadn't said anything much, he'd just made noises. Ed shrugged. It was one of those things people said when they were making out, right?
Mustang raised an eyebrow at him, then his face changed and he sucked a breath in hard.
Ed looked up at him again, his tongue still stuck out and curling around the underside of Mustang's dick. Mustang's throat worked. Ed chuckled. Then he remembered his manners. "You're - kind of - you know." Mustang laughed and shook his head. Ed rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm here, obviously I think you're hot. There you go." Ed felt the need to call off this round of verbal complimenting. So he just looked Mustang up and down again, raked his eyes over it all, and then popped his mouth back over the tip of Mustang's cock.
Mustang made a voiceless sound and shifted a bit. Ed got to work. The taste and the weight, he remembered from last night. He'd been thinking of it for half of today. He flexed his hips against the sheets, his dick already pushing against the front of his pants, then slid the fingers of his right hand behind Mustang's balls, and pressed up firmly. Ed's previous regular lovers, all two of them, had both been fond of the automail - if wary of its potential for snagging in delicate places.
Mustang made a throaty noise. Then he muttered, "You want to?"
Ed nodded, inasmuch as he could. He wasn't sure exactly what he was nodding about, but whatever it was, he almost definitely wanted to do it.
"Mm. Good. Hang on." There was fumbling, and Ed looked up to see Mustang pulling something from the nightstand drawer and tossing it on the bed. A condom tin and some lubricant. Okay, cool. Ed popped off and reached over to grab the lube and the tin.
Wait. What?
Oh huh, he'd had his fingers further back than he'd thought, that was why.
Ed looked at the condom for a moment. He considered just how doofy it would sound to say you want me to fuck you? He wasn't even sure why this was any kind of a surprise to him, he'd run nearly this exact scenario in his head an hour after lunch when he was supposed to be auditing expense claims. Before his thoughts traveled any further, though, his hindbrain suddenly kicked itself into high gear, yesyesyes now rightnowplease and Ed found himself yanking his pants down and kicking them off, pulling the condom from its ripped-open foil before he'd even said a word. As he held the pinched end of the condom over his dick, Mustang's hand was suddenly there, rolling it down and then gripping a bit, squeezing.
Ed groaned, and fumbled open the tube to squeeze some lube on to the fingertips of his left hand.
"You know, you don't have to swap hands," said Mustang.
"Oh yes, I do," said Ed. He wiggled his automail fingertips. "The joints pinch."
Mustang pulled a theatrical face. "All right, you do have to swap hands."
Ed shook his head and got to work. Take it slow, he reminded himself. He circled his index finger slowly around the entrance, then pushed it flat against it.
Mustang tutted and pushed down against his fingertip. Ed slipped it in. Out of nowhere, he got a pang of nerves. As he got to work, he scootched down again to tease at Mustang's cock with his mouth, as much to distract himself and hide any sign of twitchiness as anything else. Why performance anxiety now? Ugh. He humped the sheets a little, trying to keep himself worked up.
When he went to add the third finger, Mustang muttered, "Right, that's enough." Ed looked up. Mustang's cheeks were flushed and his chest was going up and down. "Ready. All right?"
"All right," said Ed.
It seemed to go okay at first. Mustang was sitting half-up, legs cocked wide. He pressed his lips together, breathing slowly through it, while Ed pushed in slowly with his heart hammering in his ears. Then Ed stopped. He just couldn't get any further in, something about the angle wasn't letting him.
"Keep going," Mustang muttered.
"Uh, we need to shift a bit." Ed used his grip on Mustang's hips to push them up higher in the air.
Mustang winced. Ed winced. They shifted straight back to the previous position.
"Are you okay?" Mustang didn't look snarky for some reason, he looked like he meant it.
Ed pulled a face and nodded. "Are you?"
"Yeah." Mustang looked to one side, and shoved a hand through his own hair. "Sorry, sorry - you're going to have to bear with me. It's been a while since I've done this."
Relief broke through Ed's cringing embarrassment. Mustang was blaming himself! He was embarrassed too! "So - uh - tell me how you like it?" Oh god. Why had Ed said that? It sounded so dorky.
Mustang gave a nervous laugh. He started to say something, then just stopped and shook his head. His ears had gone pink. He grabbed a pillow and slid down the bed so he was lying flat on his back. He propped the pillow under his hips, and put another one under his head. Then he raised his eyebrows and beckoned Ed over. Ed smoothed another, probably unnecessary (but it couldn't hurt, right?) glob of lube over the head of his dick. Then he crawled over and kneeled between Mustang's spread legs. Mustang guided him forward, lifted one leg in the air and put Ed's hand behind the crease of his knee. Ah, okay. That worked. Ed and Winry had done that position a lot when they'd done this particular act, he felt dumb that he hadn't gone for it straight away. He lined himself up and put his right hand behind Mustang's other knee.
So, here they were. Mustang wore this position as if it was actually remotely dignified. Mustang put a hand down between his legs, as if to check out Ed's work. Ed snorted and Mustang tickled just under the head of his cock. Their eyes met again.
"Okay," said Ed, "take two." Mustang gave him the nod, and he started to push in.
This time it worked. And after a few moments, it really, really worked.
Mustang was grinning again now, and there was a lot of smirk in it. He was palming his own dick lazily with one hand. Ed carried on with the slow thrusts, shallow at first, then steadily deeper, but not faster, for as long as he could bear it - which being honest, was not that long. Then, when he couldn't hold back any more, he let his hips go and just moved.
Suddenly pinned flat to the mattress by Ed's hands and hips, Mustang groaned and scrunched his nose. The sound vibrated all through Ed's body, and the sight made his dick throb. He could feel Mustang awkwardly jerking his hand up and down between their bodies.
Ed leaned forward and muttered into his ear, "Guess I know how to wipe the smile off your face now?"
Mustang didn't really answer, he just made some noise. Ed thought of trying for another quip - and then Mustang was thrusting back against him. He sped up, off-rhythm, and a leg tightened around the small of his back - and very suddenly Ed wasn't up to thinking or quipping or anything but moving.
It didn't take long. They both went down shouting.
They lay together for long moments afterwards, breathing hard and grinning at each other. Ed untangled himself and went to flush the condom and wash up. Then he returned to the bed on shaky legs and flopped down on his stomach next to Mustang. Mustang turned his head to face Ed, and gave him a slow, well-fucked smile. Ed reached out and shoved the sweaty hair out of Mustang's eyes. He didn't seem to mind. They stayed like that for a few silent moments, not saying anything at all. This part was good too: the sleepy buzz of it, the animal contentment, the thoughtless peace.
Mustang put a hand to the back of Ed's head for a moment, and gave him a rough little head scratch. Ed found himself grinning again.
"You know what," said Mustang, "I think that so far, this thing is working pretty well."
Back to the plot! Read on for Chapter Six.
Setting: Fullmetal Alchemist, mangaverse, post-series, slight ending AU.
Characters: Roy/Ed
Rating: NC-17 for sexing
Word count: 2814
Summary: he half-wondered if they were going to end up in the bedroom, or if Mustang was leading him to a less sexy room in order to tell him he'd had second thoughts about the whole idiot idea.
Notes: You really don't have to know much about the plot of The Phoney War to get the uh, 'plot' of this piece.
More notes: ETA that I quite forgot to thank enemytosleep and seatbeltdrivein for their excellent suggestions and betaings. Thanks so much, dudes! Sorry I'm a churl. *_*;
So, here they were, then.
This felt kind of - different, Ed thought to himself as he jogged up the steps to Mustang's building in the warm evening.
He fingered the keys in his pocket, and felt weird about them. He'd had them for the library, which made sense enough - except that he wasn't coming over for the library right now, not even supposedly.
He was coming here to have sex. Deliberate sex. Non-accidental sex. Ed wasn't quite sure how you had accidental sex, only that he had a long and storied history of doing it.
He'd spent about half the day accidentally thinking about the sort of non-accidental things they might be doing to each other tonight. In retrospect, that was a mistake. He must be worked up, that must be why he felt all twitchy. Or maybe he shouldn't have had that last cup of coffee? He bounced on his heels. Then he took a breath, and rang the doorbell firmly. He listened for footsteps coming down from the top floor, and after a few moments, he heard them, tapping down the big spiral staircase inside. He bounced on his heels some more.
The door opened, and there was Mustang, in his uniform pants and a shirt that looked suspiciously crisp for one that he'd been wearing all day. Mustang looked at Ed. Ed looked at Mustang. Mustang said, "Come in," tilted his head and smiled, all cool. It kind of made him look nervous.
Ed said, "Okay," because he thought he ought to say something back, and then he decided that 'okay' sounded dorky and he should have just said nothing and walked in. Then he realised that he was still standing on the doorstep. He broke eye contact, looked around frantically for something else to look at to make him look casual, and then walked in and had to almost barge past Mustang, who shuffled back so he could get through.
Well, that wasn't awkward at all.
Ed walked up the stairs behind Mustang, absently staring at his ass through the butt-skirt. So, this is what he did now? He'd gone from ugh, it's Mustang to yo, want to get some lunch to great ass, wish there were fewer clothes on it. This would teach him to try to see the best in people.
Mustang looked back at him and gave him another nervous, fake-cool smile as he opened the door to his apartment. Ed followed Mustang along the hallway to - oh, huh, the kitchen. He'd only just stopped himself from taking a swerve towards the bedroom, where he'd stupidly assumed they were going to end up. Then he half-wondered if they were going to end up in the bedroom, or if Mustang was leading him to a less sexy room in order to tell him he'd had second thoughts about the whole idiot idea.
"Can I get you a drink?" asked Mustang. His head was tilted, as if Ed had done something funny.
"No, I'm cool." Had Ed done something funny? Had he spaced out again? Oh, hell, he had, hadn't he? Shit, focus. "Hey, actually, a glass of water would be great."
Ed watched Mustang fill a glass at the tap, with a horrible tight feeling in his belly. He let his eyes drift from Mustang to the window. The nearest window of the apartment block opposite was open, curtains lifting and blowing out slightly in the evening breeze.
Mustang held the glass out. Ed gave him a smile, and took it. "Thanks."
It was cold in his hand. The moment the first sip of water hit his mouth, he realised how thirsty he was. He tipped his head back and downed the whole thing. As he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, Ed realised Mustang was staring. He gave Ed a twitchy little smirk.
Ed snorted. Mustang shook his head and returned the snort. The smirk turned into a grin, briefly, then it vanished.
They looked at each other again, then away. Ed wondered, briefly, what had happened to all the suave. The guy he was seeing right now was the Mustang whom he'd only gotten to know recently, the man with uncertainties and bouts of scary exhaustion, the guy who threw peanuts at him at lunch, whose whole face looked different when he laughed unselfconsciously.
Ed liked that guy; he had to admit it.
He put the glass of water down on the kitchen counter with a solid click.
"Okay," Ed said. "Could we just - hit the bedroom?"
Mustang raised an eyebrow. For a moment, Ed felt mortified and defensive. Then the smirk appeared, and for the first time in recent history, it looked real. "Of course we can."
They walked the few paces there in single file. Ed watched Mustang's butt again as he walked. It felt weird to be doing that without pretending not to. When they got in the bedroom, Mustang just kind of stood there, facing Ed, still staring. The smile had faded. Ed shifted towards him - then hesitated for a moment, feeling somehow, obscurely dumb again. Mustang tilted his head a little. Ed followed the tilt, gave him a half-apologetic grin. Mustang huffed out a little laugh - Ed snorted in return - and then Mustang leaned forward, put his hands into Ed's hair, and kissed him.
The kiss was a lot slower than most of their kisses up until now. It was the kind of kiss Ed imagined Mustang giving when he was doing the proper seduction thing. His teeth scraped Ed's lower lip gently. One hand shoved into his hair, and the other wandered down Ed's collar and started to undo the buttons of Ed's shirt. Ed kissed back, and pushed forward a bit, but found himself held in place. Ugh, annoying. This was the kind of thing Ling used to pull when he got in his king-of-everything moods. So. So - Ed fisted his hands into Mustang's shirt, took aim, and shoved him straight back onto the bed.
Mustang went down with an undignified yelp. It was great. Ed happily threw himself after, landing on the mattress with his knees boxing Mustang's hips. He grinned, hanging over him, but Mustang was oddly unfazed. He just grinned back, and pulled Ed down by his open shirt. Ed's insides lurched up and down like he was in a fast elevator.
This kiss was messier. More followed it. After Ed pulled his own shirt off, Mustang seemed to give up on the clothing removal in favour of groping Ed's butt, so Ed decided to work on getting Mustang's clothes off. Shirt first, with Mustang unbuttoning the bottom part as Ed did the top, so that their hands met in the middle, clumsily. The trousers got kind of annoying. One day, Ed supposed he would learn some sexy way to take someone's pants off them, but until then, it was going to be hauling them off, hand over hand. At least he managed to get the socks off at the same time.
Then, there he was: Ed's commanding officer, lying there naked, propped up on his elbows, grinning wickedly at him. Ed was still in his pants and boots. His cock twitched hard. Ed let his eyes slide up and down Mustang's body. Ed finally had a chance to stare at it now, and it was worth a stare. Good shoulders, good arms. The burn scar, which Ed hadn't had a chance to look at before, was the size of Ed's hand and weirdly enough, in nearly exactly the same place as the scar on Ed's own waist. He didn't really have any hair on his chest, just that little trail starting from his navel and heading down into his pubes. Ed ran his fingers down it, experimentally, landing at the root of Mustang's cock. He was at half-mast already. Ed scootched down the bed, propped his chin on his right hand, and started lightly working Mustang up with the other hand.
Ed looked up again. Mustang did a dorky little eyebrow wiggle. Ed snorted. Mustang said, casually, "You're completely fucking stunning. You know that, right?"
Ed could feel himself going red like an idiot. It was just the way the guy said it, looking him right in the eye and making him feel transparent. Ling had told him he was beautiful. Winry had told him he was gorgeous. The theremin chick had told him he was a cutie, and Al's friend Michael hadn't said anything much, he'd just made noises. Ed shrugged. It was one of those things people said when they were making out, right?
Mustang raised an eyebrow at him, then his face changed and he sucked a breath in hard.
Ed looked up at him again, his tongue still stuck out and curling around the underside of Mustang's dick. Mustang's throat worked. Ed chuckled. Then he remembered his manners. "You're - kind of - you know." Mustang laughed and shook his head. Ed rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm here, obviously I think you're hot. There you go." Ed felt the need to call off this round of verbal complimenting. So he just looked Mustang up and down again, raked his eyes over it all, and then popped his mouth back over the tip of Mustang's cock.
Mustang made a voiceless sound and shifted a bit. Ed got to work. The taste and the weight, he remembered from last night. He'd been thinking of it for half of today. He flexed his hips against the sheets, his dick already pushing against the front of his pants, then slid the fingers of his right hand behind Mustang's balls, and pressed up firmly. Ed's previous regular lovers, all two of them, had both been fond of the automail - if wary of its potential for snagging in delicate places.
Mustang made a throaty noise. Then he muttered, "You want to?"
Ed nodded, inasmuch as he could. He wasn't sure exactly what he was nodding about, but whatever it was, he almost definitely wanted to do it.
"Mm. Good. Hang on." There was fumbling, and Ed looked up to see Mustang pulling something from the nightstand drawer and tossing it on the bed. A condom tin and some lubricant. Okay, cool. Ed popped off and reached over to grab the lube and the tin.
Wait. What?
Oh huh, he'd had his fingers further back than he'd thought, that was why.
Ed looked at the condom for a moment. He considered just how doofy it would sound to say you want me to fuck you? He wasn't even sure why this was any kind of a surprise to him, he'd run nearly this exact scenario in his head an hour after lunch when he was supposed to be auditing expense claims. Before his thoughts traveled any further, though, his hindbrain suddenly kicked itself into high gear, yesyesyes now rightnowplease and Ed found himself yanking his pants down and kicking them off, pulling the condom from its ripped-open foil before he'd even said a word. As he held the pinched end of the condom over his dick, Mustang's hand was suddenly there, rolling it down and then gripping a bit, squeezing.
Ed groaned, and fumbled open the tube to squeeze some lube on to the fingertips of his left hand.
"You know, you don't have to swap hands," said Mustang.
"Oh yes, I do," said Ed. He wiggled his automail fingertips. "The joints pinch."
Mustang pulled a theatrical face. "All right, you do have to swap hands."
Ed shook his head and got to work. Take it slow, he reminded himself. He circled his index finger slowly around the entrance, then pushed it flat against it.
Mustang tutted and pushed down against his fingertip. Ed slipped it in. Out of nowhere, he got a pang of nerves. As he got to work, he scootched down again to tease at Mustang's cock with his mouth, as much to distract himself and hide any sign of twitchiness as anything else. Why performance anxiety now? Ugh. He humped the sheets a little, trying to keep himself worked up.
When he went to add the third finger, Mustang muttered, "Right, that's enough." Ed looked up. Mustang's cheeks were flushed and his chest was going up and down. "Ready. All right?"
"All right," said Ed.
It seemed to go okay at first. Mustang was sitting half-up, legs cocked wide. He pressed his lips together, breathing slowly through it, while Ed pushed in slowly with his heart hammering in his ears. Then Ed stopped. He just couldn't get any further in, something about the angle wasn't letting him.
"Keep going," Mustang muttered.
"Uh, we need to shift a bit." Ed used his grip on Mustang's hips to push them up higher in the air.
Mustang winced. Ed winced. They shifted straight back to the previous position.
"Are you okay?" Mustang didn't look snarky for some reason, he looked like he meant it.
Ed pulled a face and nodded. "Are you?"
"Yeah." Mustang looked to one side, and shoved a hand through his own hair. "Sorry, sorry - you're going to have to bear with me. It's been a while since I've done this."
Relief broke through Ed's cringing embarrassment. Mustang was blaming himself! He was embarrassed too! "So - uh - tell me how you like it?" Oh god. Why had Ed said that? It sounded so dorky.
Mustang gave a nervous laugh. He started to say something, then just stopped and shook his head. His ears had gone pink. He grabbed a pillow and slid down the bed so he was lying flat on his back. He propped the pillow under his hips, and put another one under his head. Then he raised his eyebrows and beckoned Ed over. Ed smoothed another, probably unnecessary (but it couldn't hurt, right?) glob of lube over the head of his dick. Then he crawled over and kneeled between Mustang's spread legs. Mustang guided him forward, lifted one leg in the air and put Ed's hand behind the crease of his knee. Ah, okay. That worked. Ed and Winry had done that position a lot when they'd done this particular act, he felt dumb that he hadn't gone for it straight away. He lined himself up and put his right hand behind Mustang's other knee.
So, here they were. Mustang wore this position as if it was actually remotely dignified. Mustang put a hand down between his legs, as if to check out Ed's work. Ed snorted and Mustang tickled just under the head of his cock. Their eyes met again.
"Okay," said Ed, "take two." Mustang gave him the nod, and he started to push in.
This time it worked. And after a few moments, it really, really worked.
Mustang was grinning again now, and there was a lot of smirk in it. He was palming his own dick lazily with one hand. Ed carried on with the slow thrusts, shallow at first, then steadily deeper, but not faster, for as long as he could bear it - which being honest, was not that long. Then, when he couldn't hold back any more, he let his hips go and just moved.
Suddenly pinned flat to the mattress by Ed's hands and hips, Mustang groaned and scrunched his nose. The sound vibrated all through Ed's body, and the sight made his dick throb. He could feel Mustang awkwardly jerking his hand up and down between their bodies.
Ed leaned forward and muttered into his ear, "Guess I know how to wipe the smile off your face now?"
Mustang didn't really answer, he just made some noise. Ed thought of trying for another quip - and then Mustang was thrusting back against him. He sped up, off-rhythm, and a leg tightened around the small of his back - and very suddenly Ed wasn't up to thinking or quipping or anything but moving.
It didn't take long. They both went down shouting.
They lay together for long moments afterwards, breathing hard and grinning at each other. Ed untangled himself and went to flush the condom and wash up. Then he returned to the bed on shaky legs and flopped down on his stomach next to Mustang. Mustang turned his head to face Ed, and gave him a slow, well-fucked smile. Ed reached out and shoved the sweaty hair out of Mustang's eyes. He didn't seem to mind. They stayed like that for a few silent moments, not saying anything at all. This part was good too: the sleepy buzz of it, the animal contentment, the thoughtless peace.
Mustang put a hand to the back of Ed's head for a moment, and gave him a rough little head scratch. Ed found himself grinning again.
"You know what," said Mustang, "I think that so far, this thing is working pretty well."
Back to the plot! Read on for Chapter Six.