murder of crows

Down By The River

The problem with automail was that it retained heat well. A hot summer day meant Edward was cooking; sweat collected under the lip of the automail where it met the flesh, and he was uncomfortable and not just a little stinky. One got used to the scent of Edward's sweat in the summer, when he was down in Resembool for repairs or recuperation because it permeated everywhere he went. Winry couldn't even talk about how his clothes got; she was certain he had to alchemize the smell away somehow.

This summer day, Winry attempted to find a novel way to cool him down. After all, he was flopped outside the house on his back, the water from the shower they'd rigged up out back on even if he wasn't even upright in the spray. He was cute, in soggy boxers and damp hair and that expression of 'please, give me some release'.

"You know, if you're that hot, we should go down to the river and get you a swim," she offered. After all, that's why she'd come out in bikini top and a wrap around her hips.

He groaned. This was going to take work, she was sure of it.

"Edward," she offered. "C'mon."

A hand was extended, and he finally, finally took it, even if he didn't use it to pull himself up. Eventually, she was pushing and prodding, guiding the tired boy down the hill and toward the river. She specifically guided him toward the shaded water, where it'd be coolest in the gentle flow.

Winry also wanted... some measure of privacy.

Edward got livelier once they were in the shade—he trotted into the water to slosh about, and even played at catching crawdads; Winry watched him play for a moment, glad at his amusement.

"Hey, Winry?"

"Mmm?" she asked, sitting on the bank.

"We should catch some crawdads, take 'em back, and cook them. We haven't done that in ages."

"We don't have a basket."

"Can we put 'em in your wrap?"

"I don't think so," she said, smirking now.

"Why not?"

Well, she had considered waiting—but since Edward was so interested in her wrap now... Winry decided it was best to show him why.

Wading down, she got so the water was just up to her hips—watching to make sure that Edward caught her gestures, following her hands as she undid the wrap. She extended it to him a moment later, though his eyes were fixed on the fact she had nothing on beneath it.

"It'd be really awkward to go home with crawdads in my wrap, Ed..."

"I should say so," he said, and then waded over. "There's—a nice spot on the grass over there," he said as he jerked his head in it's general direction. "Do you want to...?"

She grinned as he did; both knew it was a stupid question.

Despite that this had cooled him down, Edward was already to heat up again; he tumbled to the cool grass without a second thought, wet and dripping all over Winry; her breasts were easily freed with a brush of his hand, the thin cloth of her bikini pushed away.

"I approve of this top," he said, before his mouth was busy elsewhere. His automail hand propped him up, even as he wriggled out of his boxers with the aid of his other.

Winry tried not to laugh; her boyfriend was terribly over-eager when it came to sex—it had taken him a long time to get there, with so many issues to get past, but once he had finally gotten to enjoy it... well, there was little that could stand between him and satisfaction once he set his mind to it. It was a good trait to have in a boyfriend.

His girlfriend was no slouch, either; her hands were already reaching and touching, sliding between them to stroke along his skin, coax him to fullness; a state he achieved readily with his eagerness; soft sighs were uttered, encouragement offered. They stopped speaking real words and merely communicated in half-spoken sentiments—things that might have been words if they could have been said clearly.

She rolled him on his back once he was thick against her palm—breasts bouncing, free of their constraints, she let the grass tickle his back, as she drove down upon him, beginning the rhythms they'd only recently begun to master. He spread his legs apart, dug his heels in, and began to thrust beneath her, hands on her arms, hers on his chest, and watched each other. Every so often, his eyes would drift down to watch her work where they were joined, flesh vanishing into flesh as they rocked together.

As hot as they were, and as young, it didn't take long, honestly. Length would come with experience, experience with time and time was hard to find, even during the sweltering Resembool summers. He jerked beneath her, came with a cry of her name, and before going fully soft, reached down between them and let his fingers finish her, sliding against his skin and hers.

He still stank, but she curled up against him anyway. "Shall we splash a little more in the water," she asked, "and, uh, get rid of the evidence?"

"Sounds like a good idea," he said, kissing her neck. "Can't let them know we got hot instead of cool down here..."

Pinako already knew, she was fairly certain. She knew Al was more then aware of his brother's—ah, induction into the realm of men. He'd already had a certain jealousy expressed, and then given Winry his love and support; that was just the type of boy he was.

It didn't matter for now, though. She didn't want to rub it in—they'd rest here, finally cooling down after a heated moment, and then they'd face the summer days again, till they went back to Central to risk their lives. With Ed on her shoulder, she let the steam between them fade, and waited for him to want to go back.