The door swings open softly and carries with it the smell of burnt toast, the nasty undertone of burnt hair, and an apologetic Edward, who thankfully does not seem overtly singed.
"How you feeling?" His flatmate asks, offering him a plate of surprisingly appetizing breakfast. Usually, after a bad night, Alfons doesn't want to eat much of anything.
"Better." He replies, truthfully. Hanging his head over a steaming tea kettle helped—as did Edward's hand on his back, rubbing in small circles—but what really cures a body the most is a good night of sleep, and he tells Edward that.
Edward snorts, hands him fork and knife. His flatmate is a night owl and is always knocking around at odd hours, reading well in the early morning; if Alfons didn't remind him to sleep he most likely never would bother to. "Well, good to hear." He says, and sits down at the edge of the bed to toy with Alfons' trousers.
Alfons licks his lips and swallows painfully, fumbles the utensils and sends them screeching across the plate. Toast, eggs and hash brown are not nearly as interesting as the feeling of Edward, skating a careful palm over his waistband, and he abandons his breakfast to run his hand over Edward's.
Edward makes a distressed noise and moves to pick up the plate again, but Alfons beats him to it, leans down and sets it on the floor.
"Alfons, you need to eat." Edward complains, but does not stop the careful rubbing. Large, lazy circles now, arcing down across his waistband and up over his chest, touches on his nipples, his flanks, everywhere that makes Alfons shiver.
"THIS makes me feel better." He says, and moves Edward's hand lower for emphasis. The worst part about his attack, they hadn't even been able to finish what they'd started last night, and his groin is sore and aching because of it.
Edward's smile widens, naughtily, and he leans close to press his lips against the side of Alfons' throat. He will not use his other hand on him much, not unless it's covered by something—worries it pinches too much, the joints tend to gap—but he makes use of the one that IS safe. Short, rough fingernails rake their way up his chest (oh how glad he is that he didn't wear a shirt last night); make him wish he weren't wearing pants, either.
Edward fixes that quandary almost immediately, reaches down and flicks his fly open with practice born of experience. Alfons hisses as his cock is seized, swallowed. He hardens up the rest of the way inside Edward's velvety mouth, and the feeling is nothing short of exquisite.
Breathe. Has to remember what laid him up to begin with. He focuses on opening his lungs up, keeping his breaths slow and deep. Panting too hard was what set his lungs burning. He can't help but gasp, though, as a wet tongue swirls around the head of his cock. Damn, that is good.
Edward pulls away immediately, and Alfons wants to cry.
"Yes." Alfons gasps. He loves Edward, he really does, but sometimes he is entirely too careful.
"Maybe you ought to lie down." Edward suggests, brow furrowed.
"As long as you get back to...what you were doing." Alfons blushes. He feels awkward, sometimes, but he really can't claim to be a prude anymore.
He allows Edward to snake his arm around behind him and tilt him back, so he is lying flat on the mattress.
"Pants...?" Edward asks, tugging them down a few inches off his hips.
"Please." Alfons whimpers, and lifts his hips so Edward can slide them off the rest of the way. His cock twitches eagerly at being completely freed, his balls are aching so bad already, and he really, really would appreciate being able to TOUCH Edward right now.
Edward bends forward and engulfs him again, and he cries out at the heat, scrabbles uselessly at his lover's back. He grabs a fistful of shirt and tugs, wanting more of Edward than just his mouth on him.
Edward doesn't need much encouragement to shift over and kneel above him; the angle was probably hurting his neck. His groin is now right above Alfons, tantalizingly close, and he can't help but snake an arm up to fondle.
Edward releases him with a 'pop', gasps as Alfons squeezes him through the cloth. Unbuttons his fly and snakes his hand in to finger him more directly. Alfons loves the way Edward feels in his hands, so familiar and yet not. Edward's cock is shorter than his, but thicker; he loves its weight and girth across his palm.
"Alfons!" Edward gasps. "Do you want to..." Words are lost as Alfons begins to tug at Edward's pants, pulling his lover's hips closer and revealing his cock at the same time. God, Edward's cock is so close, it is dangling right in his face...
"No." He replies, mesmerized. "I want to try it like this." He lifts himself up high enough to lick at the his lover's erection, to get the point across.
Edward whines and pulls away, clambers entirely off him. Alfons is disappointed until he realizes that Edward is just struggling with clothing, and his lover is indeed naked in three seconds flat, shedding shirt and pants and boxers like water.
Far more than is strictly necessary. Alfons is highly amused.
"Sometimes, I wonder why you bother to get dressed at all in the morning." He laughs.
Edward scowls and straddles his face again, nearly smacks him in the nose with his cock.
"Oh, shut up, you." He growls, and grasps Alfons' cock once again.
Alfons keens and twists as his lovers lips suction onto his cock.
"You uh, gonna do anything or not?" Edward asks after a few moments. He shifts a bit, obviously uncomfortable with his legs spread so far. "Cause, uh..."
"Right." Alfons says. Begins the heady task of directing Edward's cock into his mouth. It would help if Edward would shift up enough to let him manuever his arm comfortably, but Edward's thighs are locked, trembling, in place. And Edward's cock, standing proud at attention, is also unfortunately pointing away from the direction Alfons needs it to go in... He finally manages to tilt the offending organ down far enough, lifts his head up a bit, and takes it in.
Edward groans and bucks his hips at the contact, and his erection slides right back out of Alfons' mouth and rubs down his chin. Alfons sputters and reaches for it again, ends up just holding the damn thing still and licking for a while.
Can't be too good. He thinks, sourly, but Edward doesn't seem to mind one bit. He attacks Alfons' erection with renewed vigor, and Alfons' own hips lurch upward.
Very, very nice.
Alfons works his mouth around Edward's erection as best he can, breathing in pure musk and heat; Edward's tongue writhes over him and it's so electric, it makes him want to cry out. He directs that energy into sucking instead, and Edward pulls back just as hard, and it is one circular building burn...
Edward's teeth scrape lightly along his shaft, and Alfons jerks his head back. Edward's cock slides halfway down his throat.
Now it is Edward's turn to spasm, because the sudden penetration has obviously set him off. Alfons gags and sputters as hot liquid pours down the back of his throat; it is all he can do not to reflexively bite. Breathe wide through the nose, has to breathe. He is used to the sensation of choking, just never like this.
Edward pulls out hastily and releases Alfons' cock. "Alfons, are you-"
"Yes," Alfons coughs, and this time his illness has nothing to do with it. "Edward, please!"
Edward plants his lips back on Alfons' erection, and it seems that he comes in no time at all.
Edward turns around in degrees and finally ends up flopped across Alfons' body the right way up, snuggles his face into the crook of Alfons' neck. He is adorably boneless, post-coital. Alfons himself doesn't much feel like moving, either.
"Feel better?" Edward asks, and Alfons nods, strokes his lover's hair idly. His breakfast plate lays forgotten on the floor.
Finally, he can breathe.