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captain hanzy

Relax, Fullmetal


"Do you think he knows that there is such thing as working too hard?"

Mustang looks up from the form that is lying next to his half—eaten lunch and focuses his dark eyes on his friend. Havoc isn't looking at him though; his gaze is set firmly to a table two rows down behind them where a young man sat alone with his back to them, his long, blonde hair tied back in a plait hanging between his shoulder blades and his right arm moves across the table as he writes rapidly on a pad that is in the spot where his lunch should be.

Mustang turns back to Havoc and picks up his mug to sip his coffee before he says, "I don't see the problem. He keeps himself on top of things and that makes my life a hell of a lot easier."

"I know, but don't you think he needs to unwind a bit?" Havoc says with a frown, then reaches into his jacket to pull out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. "He's so fucking uptight. I'm thinking of inviting him out with us this weekend."

"You know he'll say no, Jean," the colonel snorts and goes back to his form, clicking the top of his pen. "He always does. I don't know why you're still bothering to ask him."

"I feel bad for the guy," Havoc shrugs. He sticks the end of one of his cigarettes in his mouth and lights it before continuing, "he's always on his own and he's never had a girlfriend— I bet he's fucking miserable."

"You don't know that," Mustang says with a frown; the numbers on the form just aren't making sense to him and he fights the urge to just screw it up and throw it away. "He probably doesn't feel the need to parade his love—life around here for all to see. For all we know he might have a string of women that he likes to pick and choose from when he feels like getting laid."

"I don't think so," murmurs Havoc, sucking on his cigarette. "Doesn't seem like that type of guy."

"Oh, and you know that for sure, do you? You a psychologist now, second lieutenant?"

Havoc rolls his eyes and blows out a cloud of smoke through his mouth.

"You know what I mean," he then says, flicking ash into his empty cup. "He's so quiet and secluded that I doubt he'd have the balls to try to pick up a woman."

"Well, if that is the case, then it's his problem," Mustang says with a sigh. He's given up with the form— there are so many mistakes on it now that he'll have to do it over. "It's nothing to do with us."

"I'm gonna help him," the lieutenant says with a nod, his eyes once again on the young man's back. "I'm gonna show him what he's been missing."

"You're an idiot, Jean," Mustang says with a sigh as he stands, grabbing the form and shoving it into a file. Havoc doesn't even look at the colonel as he flips him off and inhales on his cigarette again and lets the smoke filter through his nose. Mustang smirks and then says, "You'll let me know how it goes though, won't you?"

Havoc grins almost insanely, the cigarette still somehow sticking on his lip and he leans back in his chair as he looks up at Mustang.

"Do bears shit in the woods, Sir?"


Edward Elric is in his office when Second-Lieutenant Havoc invites him out for a drink at the end of the week; he is sat behind his desk working on a report that has been taking up his time for over a day now, and when Havoc is suddenly stood in front of him it takes a moment for him to realise what is happening.

"You want me to come with you?" he asks with a small frown.

"Of course," Havoc grins, leaning his hands on front of the desk. "You're one of us, right? Loads of us are going— me, Fuery, Breda, Fokker, Hughs, Brosh— even Mustang might turn up if he can be bothered."

Edward doesn't answer right away, just blinks at Havoc. He's asked him to go out before to try some of the pubs and bars in Central, but it has never really been something he's interested in. It's not that he's antisocial, he just doesn't fit in with Havoc and the others. He hasn't seen action like they have— being only twenty and only becoming a State Alchemist just a little over a year ago has meant that there have been very few opportunities for him to fight alongside the other military personnel and bond with them in the way that they have all bonded with each other. He has never been on the same wavelength as any of them so has preferred to either bury himself in his work and hide in his office, or research eastern alchemy in his spare time at home.

"I don't know," he says softly, looking down at the papers on his desk. "It's a nice offer, but drinking really isn't my thing."

"You don't have to get hammered," Havoc laughs, "just have a few beers and have some fun. Come on, you'll like it. You could bring someone if you wanted— a girlfriend or a wife or whatever—"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Edward murmurs, his cheeks flushing with slight embarrassment. "Or a wife."

He's beginning to feel really stupid: the closest thing he has ever had to a girlfriend was with his automail mechanic Winry Rockbell, and that's because they both drank too much at a party one New Year's Eve and ended up fumbling around behind a shed in Winry's back garden. It had resulted in nothing more than a heavy, messy kissing session followed by an awkward silence between them for the rest of the evening and for Edward there was the hideous feeling in his belly when he couldn't help but think that kissing Winry had been like kissing his sister.

"Well, even better! We can have even more fun!" Havoc's smile gets more excited and almost evil and he claps his hands together once. "Friday it is then!"

"Havoc, I really don't—"

"I'm not taking no for an answer!" Havoc sings in a higher pitch and he seems to float back towards the office door. "I'll see you on Friday, Fullmetal!"

Before Edward can protest any more, Havoc is gone with the door closed behind him. Edward stares at it for a moment before groaning and dropping his head down onto the desk, closing his eyes and wondering how on earth he can get out of this one.


When Friday rolls around, it seems like the longest day on earth as Edward works steadily through his shift. He has been thinking for the last few days about Havoc's invitation, and had decided that going out with some of his colleagues may not be such a bad idea after all. It's a chance to get to know them, and to let them see that he can actually be a fun person to be around despite how serious he is about his work. It's a chance to begin to establish some firmer work relationships as well as maybe some friendships so that he doesn't have to spend so much time alone at work when going through reports or eating his lunch.

Now though, just as his shift is ending, his belly is filled to the brim with raging butterflies and he is seriously regretting not putting up more of a fight with Havoc. He tries not to vomit on his desk through the anxiety as he tidies away papers and other clutter and jumps when there is a loud knocking on the office door followed by a very loud greeting as it opens.

"You ready to go yet, Edward?" Havocs grins almost manically and Edward can't do anything but swallow and grimace when he looks around at him. "We're all waiting for you!"

"I—I, erm," Edward stammers, "I don't think that I should—"

"Don't tell me you're chickening out?" Havoc says, his smile disappearing. "Come on, Ed! You're a State Alchemist! If you could pass those ridiculous exams then you can certainly handle a night out with the boys!"

"W—well, I—" Edward falters and looks away, his neck feeling hot. Havoc is probably right; becoming a State Alchemist wasn't exactly a walk in the park and in a way, it's really quite kind of Havoc to be so insistent on inviting Edward out with him. He looks up again and, feeling incredibly awkward he says, "Should I at least change?"

"No, you don't need to," the lieutenant's smile is back and his eyes are twinkling as he goes on, "you'd be surprised what you could get for wearing your uniform— works wonders for the ladies, if you know what I mean."

Edward can imagine but he doesn't say anything, just tries to smile and says, "So we're going now?"

"Yep! First stop is a pub just up the road from here so it's not far."

Edward nods and after getting his coat he follows his new insistent friend out of the door and to their first destination, his insides tightening all the more as he tries his hardest to keep an open mind.


Edward is stood at the bar in the fourth pub on Havoc's list and is waiting for the pretty barmaid to bring him his drink and if he is honest, it really isn't that bad. He hasn't said much to the others yet, just listened to their chatter about war and women and since he hasn't really experienced either he hasn't had much of a chance to comment. He's not bored though, and all of the men welcomed him into the group quite warmly and haven't excluded him in any way so he has no reason to feel nervous any more.

It also helps that he is really quite drunk.

He's on his sixth huge tankard of beer and between not really being used to so much alcohol and also being quite short it has gone straight to his head. He finds himself wobbling as he makes his way back over to the table of soldiers, their blue uniforms swimming before his eyes and he plops into his seat between Havoc and Brosh, both who smile widely at him. He grins back at them both and swigs his beer, listening to the conversation around him and glancing around the bar.

It's quite dark in the seating area of the pub, the only sources of light coming from candles in opaque bulbs fastened to the walls and each section is separated by black and red drapes that create an oddly intimate atmosphere. The other tables can't be seen because of the drapes but Edward can hear other men talking, some laughing loudly though their words are indecipherable and as he peers around he notices that each individual section has a maid to collect empty glasses and return them to the bar. He watches them closely having never seen something like this before and soon realises how scantily clad they all are, wearing either tiny skirts or shorts, ankle or knee—high boots and very revealing blouses. Bangles and chains hang from their wrists and they all have their hair tied up high on their heads in long, curly ponytails and Edward blushes when one of them— one with long black hair and dark skin— catches him staring and she blows him a kiss and flutters her eyelashes before disappearing into the seating section next to his.

"Found something you like, Fullmetal?" Brosh murmurs, leaning close to Edward and raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Er, I— no," Edward stammers, his neck flushing and he sips from his tankard to avoid Brosh's eyes. "No, I was just—"

"Calm down Ed," Havoc laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's what they are here for, right? You're allowed to look."

Edward glances at him, his face still feeling hot from both his embarrassment and his insobriety and Havoc's lips turn upwards into a devious smile.

"You said you don't have a girlfriend, right?" he asks, his voice low and Edward realises that none of the other soldiers are talking anymore; all eyes are on him.

"Er, no," Edward answers with a shake of his head and immediately regrets the action; Havoc seems to swim before his eyes and his stomach rolls over. "No, I don't have a girlfriend."

Havoc's smile gets even bigger and he looks past Edward, right at a girl who is coming towards their table and Edward can't help but notice how different she looks to the other women. Her dark-blonde hair is down and hanging over her face and shoulders, and her skinny, slender body is covered by long, flowing trousers and a loose, v—neck shirt with sleeves that cover most of her hands. She isn't looking at any of the soldiers, just keeps her head down as she reaches the table and begins to collect the empty glasses silently, leaning right over Edward to get to the back of the table. His nose is immediately filled with a heavy, musky smell that makes his insides writhe and as the girl pulls back her gaze flicks to his; her eyes are gold like his own but darker and Edward's heart seems to jump into his throat.

"Hey sweety," Havoc says to her as she leans up, several glasses balanced carefully in her hands, "how much?"

The girl stiffens and holds the glasses against her chest, accentuating just how flat it is and she murmurs, "Five hundred."

Havoc's eyebrows raise and Edward frowns in confusion as the lieutenant says, "That's a lot, don't you think?"

"It's not up to me," the girl says, much louder this time but is still hiding behind her hair. Edward is surprised by how deep her voice is when she speaks again: "If you don't like it, then you'll have to choose someone else."

Havoc's smile fades slightly but he suddenly pulls out his wallet, dragging out several notes and holding them out to the girl. She nods and then disappears, presumably to the bar to return the glasses and Edward, still frowning, turns to Havoc.

"What's going on?"

"You're going to have a little fun," Havoc murmurs, fanning out the notes in his hands and waving them like a fan. "You don't need to worry though, it's on me."

Edward blinks at him and says, "I don't understand. I'm already having fun."

There are titters and snorts from the other soldiers who are still watching Edward closely and he begins to feel frustrated and anxious — are they playing a trick on him?

Before he can dwell on that thought he is being pulled to his feet clumsily by Brosh and he holds onto his tankard as he tries desperately not to spill his beer, his vision blurring and the bar seeming to move from side to side. The barmaid is back and she's taking the money from Havoc, her head bowed and she turns to Edward before taking his hand. He finds himself being led away from the table by her, the soldiers still sat there cheering and whooping and he begins to panic.

"What's happening?" he slurs, his feet still moving as the girl pulls him behind a curtain into a dark corridor. "Where are we going?"

"All clients here are assured of complete privacy," the girl says, her voice low and she leads him through a door into another room. "No one except me will know that you're in here."

Edward blinks slowly and after peering around at the dark, mahogany walls, the large, satin—covered recliner covered in cushions and pillows and the candelabra that is hanging from the ceiling he realises what's happening. His insides clench and he turns to face the girl but stumbles, dropping his tankard and toppling backwards onto the recliner. The girl whips her head around and looks from him to the beer—soaked carpeted floor and her mouth turns upwards in a small smile.

"You're really drunk, aren't you?" she says softly, her voice seeming deeper than ever and Edward blushes as he pushes himself into a sitting position but finding it incredibly difficult as his head begins to spin. "Don't worry though, I don't mind."

"I think there has been a mis—misunderstanding," Edward murmurs, his fringe falling into his eyes as he shakes his head to realign his vision. "I didn't— I don't—"

"This is your first time, right?" the girl says, turning away briefly to lock the door. "It's okay to be nervous."

Edward feels himself blush more as he says, "My first time?"

"Your first time here," the girl says before opening a cabinet by the door and pulling out a pile of cloths. "Your first time with me."

Edward's eyes widen and he scrambles off the recliner to his feet, his right foot landing in the beer and splashing it all up his trousers. The girl then kneels next to him and places several of the cloths in the puddle before grabbing another and running it over Edward's boot. Edward wills himself to move but finds he can't when the girl is running the cloth up the inside of his leg to soak up the beer, her dark eyes flicking to his every few seconds.

"Don't worry," she murmurs soothingly, running her free hand up Edward's other leg and to his thigh, "I'll take good care of you. Just relax, okay?"

Edward shivers slightly as his belly jolts again, but this time it's not in panic or anxiety. He remembers this feeling, one that he gets when he indulges and satisfies his own desires but this time it's almost overwhelming him. He knows it's wrong— this is wrong and he promises himself that when he gets out of here he will murder Havoc for putting him in this position.

"I can't," he slurs, shaking his head again. "I didn't— Havoc didn't even ask me—"

"What's your name?" the girl suddenly asks, taking her hands off Edward's legs and mopping up the rest of the beer from the floor quickly.

"I— why?"

"I want to know what I should call you, sir," the girl says, lifting her gaze to his. "Unless you'd rather remain anonymous?"

"M—my name," Edward stammers, "is Edward. Edward Elric."

The girl gathers the beer-sodden cloths in her hands and stands, her eyes still on Edward. She is smiling gently at him and there is a slight blush to her cheeks as she eyes him for a moment before dumping the cloths into a bucket in the corner.

"That's a nice name," she says, moving slowly back over to him with so much grace that it's as if she is weightless and Edward is transfixed. "Why don't you lie back down and we can start?"

Edward swallows hard and says, "I really don't think I should— I don't—"

The girl steps closer, her eyes are locked and level with Edward's and he feels her slip her hands up his sides. He inhales sharply when she pushes him backwards gently, that musky smell filling his nose once more and there is a definite twinge of heat in his groin. He shouldn't like this, shouldn't be turned on by this; he should stop this and leave right now before this goes any further because it's not right—

"Lie down, Edward," the girl whispers, her breath hot on his lips and his eyelids flutter when he blinks. "It's so much better if you are lying down."

Edward finds himself obeying, his back hitting the pile of silky cushions and he keeps his gaze on the girl. Her eyes are filled with a sudden fire that fuels his own lust and he feels his groin tighten as his cock begins to harden in his trousers. Is this really happening? Is he seriously about to submit himself to a stranger?

"Now, what would you like first?" she asks, her voice low again as she straddles his legs and runs long, sleeve—covered hands up and down over his hips. "Should I undress you? Or do you want to undress me?"

Edward blinks slowly, the girl seeming to sway in front of him and heat pulses through his cock when one of the hands on his side slips down and across the bulge in his trousers. He gasps as she palms him, her eyes huge and peering out from beneath long sheets of dark—blonde hair and her lips are parted as she watches him react to her touches.

"How about I undress you, Edward?" she suggests, realising that Edward is too drunk and in too much pleasure to answer right now and she slides her hands to his belt and fingers the buckle. "Would that make things easier?"

Edward exhales shakily and grips the recliner with both hands as if holding on for his life. His body wants this but what sobriety that is left of his mind is telling him to end this now— he didn't pay for this and he shouldn't let this poor girl think that he wants it.

Even if his cock is trapped and hard in his pants, hurting like hell as it throbs against the constricting material.

He looks down as she unfastens his belt slowly, her long, nimble fingers working the buckle and it clinks in her hands as she pulls it off. She then slips her hands over his hips again as if to sooth him and stops at one of the loops on his trousers, one on which his pocket watch is attached and she looks at it, turning it over carefully with raised eyebrows.

"You're a State Alchemist," she murmurs, her eyes flicking to his.

"Y—yeah," Edward says breathlessly, blinking sluggishly. His heart is racing and he is beginning to tremble between her legs as she hovers over him, still examining the watch. "Yeah, I am."

"What do they call you?" the girl asks softly.

"Fullmetal," Edward answers, his hips rising when she runs a hand over his erection again. Should he be telling her this? Why is he trusting her?

"So you're the Fullmetal Alchemist," she states, letting go of his watch and sliding further up his body.

She's gazing down at him from beneath her hair in the most intrigued way as she moves and her eyes don't leave his as she undoes his jacket. He swallows and his stomach turns over in nervousness as the jacket slips back over his shoulders and is tossed to the side, revealing his vest—covered torso and the girl's eyes widen when she spots his auto—mail arm.

"I suppose this is why you have such a strange title?" she says gently, running a hand along to cool surface of the metal and Edward's face burns. "Does it hurt?"

"No," Edward whispers, looking away. "Not anymore, anyway."

The girl nods before taking the bottom of Edward's top and dragging it over his chest and his arms. It joins the jacket and the belt and Edward just lies there, bare—chested and unable to move when she dips her head to place hot, wet kisses on his trembling skin. He gasps when she rubs him through his trousers again, his dick aching at the touch and all coherent thought seems to vanish as her mouth descends further down his belly and she discretely unzips his pants.

"Shit," he breathes, gripping the sides of the recliner again and the girl looks up at him with lust—filled eyes.

"Do you like this?" she asks, her voice so low that Edward barely hears her and he finds himself nodding slowly. She smiles and bites her lip as she leans up, taking his flesh hand in her own. "You can touch me if you want. Would you like to?"

Edward finds himself nodding again and the girl places his hand on her bony hip under her shirt; her skin is warm and soft to the touch and she leans into his hand, her eyes fluttering when he glides his fingers up and across her belly. He's never done this before, has never been in this situation yet some instincts he never knew he had are taking over and making him want more.

"I'll be honest with you, Edward," the girl says hoarsely, "they don't usually want to touch me."

"Why?" Edward asks in a whisper, watching as his own fingers smooth across her belly beneath the floaty, white shirt.

"They don't like to know that they are being pleasured by another man."

Edward freezes and looks up, right into the gaze that is trained on his own and in one swift movement, a flat chest is revealed when the girl— no, the man removes his shirt. Edward's speechless as he stares at him, his porcelain—like skin almost glowing in the dim, flickering candle—light of the room, his torso so lithe and impossibly long.

Beautiful, that's the only word that comes to Edward's intoxicated mind and to his surprise his cock throbs harder than ever at the sight of this young man straddling him like this. He can't believe that he didn't realise before now and he wonders vaguely if Havoc did too before he offered the man money to show Edward a good time.

"If you're not into this, then I can keep myself covered," the man says, his voice strong as if already accepting rejection but he is hiding behind his hair again. "What would you prefer?"

Edward tilts his head and blinks slowly before saying in an uneven voice, "What's your name?"

There is a pause and the young man shifts on his knees before he murmurs, "Why?"

"Well," Edward begins slowly, and though still feeling anxious he leans up to boldly go on, "I told you my name, so I think you should tell me yours. It's only fair."

The young man's lips turn upwards into a smile and he shakes his hair out of his eyes before saying, "My name is Alphonse."

"Alphonse," Edward repeats, looking from the young man's face to the loose trousers that are hanging on his hips and he feels nothing more than pure, sexual desire for him. "Do you tell your other clients your name?"

"They never ask for it," Alphonse murmurs, placing a hand on Edward's chest and pushing him back against the cushions again. "You're the first to do so."

Edward doesn't get a chance to reply to that; sparks of heat explode in his belly when Alphonse rains scorching kisses all over his chest and neck, his hands once again all over Edward's hips and he shoves his trousers to his knees where they catch on his boots. Edward writhes beneath him as his boxers are then pulled down and his heart hammers harder in his chest when he realises that he is almost completely naked, his pulsating cock now resting heavily on his bare stomach. He feels his face and neck flush hotly as he watches Alphonse glide his hands down his thighs, his gaze on Edward's left leg as he drags off his boots, trousers and underwear.

"You have an auto—mail leg too," he murmurs gently; Edward looks away and involuntarily flexes his metal foot. "What happened to you?"

Edward doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. There is suddenly a blistering wetness surrounding the head of his dick and he moans as his hips buck, his cock sliding further into Alphonse's mouth. Edward stares down his body and watches as the young man sucks him slowly, his tongue sliding and digging into the slit and he cries out again, his flesh hand finding Alphonse's hair. Every nerve in his length is on fire and there is a distant coiling in his lower belly that drives his hips upwards again in a slow, laboured rhythm that Alphonse follows, wrapping one hand around the base of Edward's cock as he laps and sucks at the head.

"Oh, God," Edward groans, watching his dick disappear deeper into Alphonse's mouth. "Oh, fuck—"

Alphonse hums around the flesh in his mouth in response, his eyes on Edward's face and Edward can feel the coiling in his belly begin to tighten at a faster rate. His instinct tries to fight it; he doesn't want to come yet because somehow he feels as if he's not ready to and he stills his entire body. Alphonse continues to take him into his mouth in long, drawn-out movements, his lips tightening around the hard muscle and Edward breathes heavily through his nose as he tries to regain some kind of control.

It's insane; he's lying here drunk, naked and an amazing—looking man who has been paid to pleasure him is sucking skilfully on his dick. It's wrong, immoral and it just has to be so illegal that if he was caught here by his superiors, he would most likely lose his job. Havoc would too for paying for this but somehow, as Alphonse takes his cock so deep that it practically touches his tonsils, Edward can't bring himself to care.

"Shit," he hisses, pulling at Alphonse's hair and rolling his hips. Alphonse's eyes suddenly flash and he pulls off, saliva and pre—come covering his lips and Edward holds back a moan when the young man gets to his feet.

"Now," he says, his voice hoarse and thick with lust, "would you like to fuck me?"

Edward's belly rolls over in arousal and he stares at Alphonse with wide eyes. "W—what?"

"Or maybe, I could fuck you?" Alphonse suggests, licking his wet, swollen lips and he moves to a small cabinet by the side of the recliner. "You paid full price, so you get the choice."

Edward continues to stare as Alphonse pulls out a small, white tube from a drawer in the cabinet and then moves back over to the foot of the recliner with his gaze sweeping Edward's body.

"Although," he murmurs, flicking open the top of the tube, "I get the feeling that you have never been entered before."

Edward swallows and his cock quivers as if in response to Alphonse's words and he shakes his head slowly.

"Well, I'll make the choice for you then," Alphonse says softly with a hint of a smile on his pink lips and he squeezes the contents of the tube into his palm. "But you can let me know if you change your mind."

He leans down and coats Edward's cock in the liquid from the tube and Edward moans louder than he intends; it's so cold on his hot length and between that and Alphonse's nimble fingers he feels like he could come at any second.

"You don't need to worry about hurting me," Alphonse says, letting go of Edward's cock and leaning back up again. "It won't take long for me to loosen up."

Edward blinks slowly in slight confusion as he watches Alphonse pull down his own trousers and then kick them off as they pool at his ankles, revealing long, slender legs and Edward's gaze is drawn upwards to his semi—hard length. For the first time since he began to submit himself to Alphonse it occurs to him that the other man most likely doesn't want to do this; it's his job, his profession and as much as Edward's needs are aching to be satisfied there is no reason to assume it's the same for Alphonse.

But this vague and drunkenly muddled consideration of the morality of the situation quickly vanishes; Alphonse is now back up on the recliner with his knees on either side of Edward's hips and is squeezing more of the liquid from the tube onto his fingers. He then reaches behind himself to where Edward can't see and his eyelids flutter closed for a moment, his arm moving in a rhythmic fashion and Edward feels another wave of intense arousal roll through him when he realises that Alphonse is fingering himself.

"God," Edward breathes, his heart racing and he subconsciously reaches out towards Alphonse's cock. His fingertips brush the head and right before his eyes it seems to swell, Alphonse shivering slightly before he opens his eyes again.

"You don't have to do that, Edward," he breathes, but Edward can't stop; Alphonse is getting harder and thicker in his hand and he likes it— no, he fucking loves it and he watches with fascination as the young man straddling him shoves his fingers in and out of himself and bucks into Edward's grip.

"Now," Alphonse hisses, pulling his fingers out of himself and grabbing Edward's cock, "I hope this is good enough for you."

Without another word he repositions himself right over Edward's hips and lowers himself onto him, the weeping head bumping against his tight entrance. Edward gasps when a heat, one so much slicker and viselike than Alphonse's mouth, envelopes his length painfully slowly and Alphonse closes his eyes, leans his head back and exposes the long line of his throat. He braces himself on Edward's knees, his blunt nails digging into the flesh on his right and scraping against the metal on his left, but Edward can't feel or think about anything other than the grip and pulsing of Alphonse's insides on his cock.

"You're big," Alphonse grits out, looking at Edward with heavily lidded eyes and a damp brow. "Fuck, you're so big."

Edward isn't sure how to reply to that and doesn't have any intention of doing so; he's quickly becoming overwhelmed and he instinctively rocks his hips upwards, his lower belly bumping Alphonse's balls and Alphonse moans softly, his eyes fluttering closed again. Edward's belly twists when he can't help but think how incredible this man looks on top of him but he doesn't get time to dwell on it as Alphonse begins to rise up and down, Edward's length sliding in and out of him in painfully slow strokes. Edward grinds his teeth, his hands finding Alphonse's hips and he holds onto him as he moves with a steadily increasing pace. It's incredible to both feel and watch; the tension that is deep in Edward's belly is building faster than ever as Alphonse leans forward slightly and moans, his cock bobbing as he moves. It's so hard and wet now that Edward can't resist sliding his flesh hand from Alphonse's body hip to the soft, dark curls at the base of his length and then along it to the red, weeping head to smooth his thumb across the slit. Alphonse cries out and grips Edward's knees harder.

"You— you don't have to," he stammers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't need to come."

Edward lets out a growl and in his haze he sits up, his metal arm going around Alphonse's waist and he begins to pump him in time to his movements. Alphonse moans and bucks into Edward's hand and Edward cries out; the pressure on his cock has become greater than ever and he can feels his orgasm drawing closer. His body is trembling with it and in his haze he slips his free hand up Alphonse's sweaty back and into his hair, gathering it all and pulling it to the side so he can see the man's face. He's flushed and drenched but he looks amazing and Edward's belly twinges when Alphonse presses his forehead to his.

"Edward," he pants over the slapping of his body as it hits Edward's, "you're getting me closer. I can't last if you don't let go."

Edward just shakes his head and increases his grip on the pulsing cock in his hand. His vision is blurring and everything is tightening as he totters on the edge of his release.

"Faster," he groans, "please, faster."

Alphonse manages it, crying out each time he plunges on to Edward's cock and Edward feels him somehow becoming impossibly tauter. It is then only moments before Edward's balls are tightening and he is catapulted over the edge, coming hard and fast inside of Alphonse's body and he sees stars as he practically screams in pleasure. There's then a sudden wet heat all over his belly and he looks down to see Alphonse coming in white ribbons across his skin, his head thrown back and he cries join Edward's as he continues to move up and down in a sharp, uncoordinated rhythm. They both ride their orgasms together, uneven panting and moaning echoing around the room and Edward falls back against the pillows completely spent with his arm still around Alphonse.

They lie together chest to chest for quite a while and Edward shifts when he knows he's lost his erection, but Alphonse seems to realise too as he suddenly leans up and climbs off him. He then moves over to the cabinet by the door to pull out more cloths, wiping himself down with one of them and dropping the others onto the recliner.

"You can use those to clean yourself," he says, then retrieves his trousers and pulls them on quickly. "I'll just be in the bar so take as much time as you need."

Edward pushes himself into a sitting position slowly as his afterglow consumes him and Alphonse turns around to look at him with a smile on his lips.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," he says, his eyes flashing. "It was lovely doing business with you, Fullmetal Alchemist."

With that he leaves the small room and Edward stares after him, entirely unable to string any real coherent thoughts together until he feels a chill ripple through his naked body. He then leans forward to grab the cloths at the end of the recliner, his movements slow and laboured and as he removes the drying sweat and come from his body he tries to decide whether he should either thump or hug Havoc when he next sees him.


"So he went out with you then?" Mustang asks his friend, his eyes on yet another form but this one is actually error—free. "How was it?"

"It was... interesting," Havoc replies, sucking on the cigarette that is hanging out of his mouth. "He definitely loosened up, anyway."

"What do you mean? Was he drunk?"

Havoc blows out a cloud of smoke to the side and then leans back in the little plastic chair before he says, "We got him more than just drunk. We got him laid."

Mustang looks up, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "You got him laid?"

"Yep," Havoc nods. "Cost a fair bit, though."

"You paid for him to have sex?" Mustang says incredulously, putting his pen down on the table top and shoving the form away. "You bought him a prostitute?"

"Yeah, I did," the lieutenant says with an almost evil smile. "It wasn't all seedy and shifty, though, not like a street corner thing. It was at that place on the other side of Central."

"What place?"

"That bar with all those gorgeous girls that wait on the tables," Havoc says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, the one with the curtains and candles and all that kind of shit."

"I can honestly say I have never been there," Mustang says, his eyebrows lowering. "You shouldn't go there either— you're in the military, you moron. What if someone saw?"

"No one saw, Roy," Havoc rolls his eyes, "so there's no need to shit yourself over it."

Mustang shakes his head and looks over his shoulder; Edward is sat alone a few tables down with a pile of papers and a half—eaten sandwich in front of him, the papers clearly demanding much more attention from Edward than his lunch.

"So did you actually get to know him then?" Mustang asks when he turns back to Havoc.

"Not really," the lieutenant sighs. "He didn't say much to begin with and after he disappeared off with the girl he pretty much clammed up when he came back. I tried to ask him how it went, but he wouldn't answer."

"You probably embarrassed him," Mustang states, picking up his pen again. "I wouldn't want to talk about something like that, especially with the guy who paid for it. You're so cruel."

"Yeah, well, you have to be cruel to be kind," Havoc says with an almost evil grin and he inhales on his cigarette again before saying, "It was worth it though. You should have seen his fucking face. Even if he won't tell me what it was like, it's obvious that he loved it."

Mustang rolls his eyes once more and as he goes back to his form he makes the mental note to never, ever go out with Havoc ever again.