A Morning In

It would be nice to be able to say that everything then carried on precisely as Ed had dictated—or at least, it would have been nice for Ed. But of course, they didn't.

Mustang offered Edward a pair of plain flannel pajamas, a stark, dull red as if in defiance of the blue he wore every day, and loose even on the Colonel. Edward fairly drowned in it—the collar kept slipping off his flesh shoulder (it bunched on his metal one), and the elastic of the waistband didn't even hold the material around his waist, and it was far too long in both the pants leg and the arms.

It took considerable willpower on the Colonel's part to not burst into laughter as Ed stoically held the pants around his waist while he trooped about the apartment, hanging up his clothes to dry on a line the Colonel set up for him. In actuality, he admitted to being rather impressed; he had never imagined that clothes could be pinned to a clothesline one-handed, but Edward managed quite nicely, holding his pants in place with his metal arm and using his flesh arm to do all the work. But he did not offer help, nor did Fullmetal ask—Roy, because he secretly hoped that would get to see the embarrassment that accompanied fallen pants, and Edward likely because of his pride, which had already been fully violated for the night.

Besides, whenever Roy drew too close to Edward (as defined by about a 2-meter space around him), Ed would jump, spin, and glare dangerously at Roy. was quite funny. Although Roy wondered how Ed knew when he was coming.

They passed about a half-hour in this pseudo-camaraderie, and Edward was still a little wobbly on his feet when Roy popped The Question: where would Ed sleep?

More accurately, he proposed his bed, which Ed flatly refused.

"Like hell I'm sleeping with you!" he snapped, before realizing that the wording was all wrong, and blushed. "I mean, I'm not spending the night in the same bed with you!"

"So you do prefer sexual acts outside of their usual bedroom premises?" Roy suggested.

Ed's ears turned red. "I don't prefer them anywhere, you sexual deviant! I'm sleeping on the couch," he huffed. "Shut up," he added peremptorily, turning to said piece of furniture.

Ah well, so much for words. Roy calmly took a long stride to Edward and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him back against himself. "I won't let such an esteemed guest as the Fullmetal One to sleep on the couch," he purred to the outraged Edward, calmly scooping him off the floor and hoisting him over his shoulder again. It was a surprisingly effective way to carry Edward, he decided. And it gave extra access to Ed's buttocks, which were fun to touch inappropriately if only because Edward hated it so extremely.

Ed put up the expected fuss all the way to the bed, and Roy dropped him on the mattress unceremoniously, holding him down as he crawled over Edward and pressed himself against the young man's back from buttocks to shoulder, wrapping an arm around Ed's waist to hold him there. Ed, for his part, froze for a very long moment at the contact, and Roy took the opportunity to spoon around Edward completely, holding Ed most tightly against himself at the base of his ribcage. "Isn't this warmer?" he asked softly, removing any trace of amusement or sexual innuendo from his voice.

The Fullmetal Alchemist was quiet and irritable for a very long moment, but finally he conceded that yes, it was warmer, shut up.

Roy smiled and closed his eyes, and waited for Ed's breathing to slow to the point when he was dozing. Then the fun would begin.

The first time Ed woke up, it was because the Colonel had snuck his hand up his (way too damned huge!) pajama top and splayed his fingers over Ed's stomach. It made his stomach jump a little because the touch was still so light. Wearily he debated throwing a fit over it; his body still tingled, just a little, from the sensation of warm bathwater swirling around him as he ground against Mustang (how embarrassing), and the touch was not helping. But a temper tantrum was just...too much...effort...

He grasped the hand on his stomach and yanked it away, mumbling about something-or-other in his half-sleep, and drifted off again.

The second time Ed woke up, the touch of a hand against him fled immediately, and he sat up, because he was pretty sure he'd felt fingers around that line where one's belt usually ties off, only in these pants, there was a gaping space between Ed's small waist and the material. But belt or no, that line was not to be crossed, not no how no way, and he angrily turned to the Colonel, who slowly opened one eye at the sudden shaking of the bed. "Yes, Edward?" he asked, yawning.

"No funny business!" Ed thundered, not fooled for one minute by that innocent look.

"I haven't," Mustang said sleepily. And suddenly a hand came up around the base of his ribcage and yanked him down against the mattress again. "Try to get some sleep, Fullmetal," the Colonel encouraged him.

But Ed did not go to sleep for a while after that, and then, only a very light doze.

The third time Ed woke up, though, that hand was most definitely in his pants. And not going anywhere, as its fingers tangled in the light pubic hair just above Ed's groin.

Ed caught his breath on his teeth. "Colonel!"

There were lips against the back of his head, and he felt them stretch against his hair. "Yes, Edward?"

"Stop it!" he snapped, his adolescent voice betraying him by spiraling into a squeak.

"Stop what?" asked the Colonel, as that hand inched a little closer to its goal.

Ed had what might qualify as panic attack, as he realized that if this started now, it wouldn't end until they'd gone all the way and then they'd have gotten no sleep and they would both look awful and Al would worry and so would Hawkeye and he still hurt from before, dammit—

He grasped the Colonel's hand, yanking it up, and held it against his chest, choosing to ignore the chuckling at his back when he refused to let go. "I meant it," he said as coldly as he could manage, painfully aware how red his cheeks were.

Mustang laughed again, softly. "I have no doubt you did, Fullmetal."

Ed fell back to true sleep, finally, with the Colonel's hand still clutched against his chest.

He woke up at last to the sun streaming into the Colonel's window. And a hand in his pants. Again.

Actually, the hand wasn't in his pants per se, because his pants had been pushed halfway down his legs—probably to make sure that Edward felt the clad arousal of the Colonel against his buttocks, and the leg that had split his knees apart and was inching up his inner thighs, and the fingers that were slowly stroking him, and already had him half-aroused.

Edward Elric flung himself out of the bed so fast that he fell off the side of it. "Augh!"

Roy looked over the edge of the bed; the smile on his face could only be described as 'predatory'. "Would you rather have sex down there, Fullmetal?"

Ed did not make that interesting, strangled noise of horror—no, Ed did not make noises like that. Or so he liked to think. But he did yank up those accursed pajama bottoms and scramble back to his feet as fast as he could, blushing angrily. "I'm going now!" he announced, grabbing for the waist of his pajamas as they began to slip to his groin again—his groin, which was aching, dammit—and spinning away, marching to the kitchen where his clothes had been hung up to drip-dry.

He heard Mustang's footsteps behind him and steadfastly ignored them, but the Colonel's stride, damnably long, caught Ed before he'd made it to the door. Ed wasn't completely surprised when a hand suddenly wrapped around his waist from behind, pulling him back again—but he was startled when Mustang's other hand grabbed his crotch unashamedly.

This time there was no denying the interesting sound that emerged from Ed's lips as he stumbled back against the Colonel's chest, rendered immobile for a long instant as pleasure seized him and strangled him. The waistband of the pants fell from his nerveless fingers.

"You're leaving, even with this?" Roy asked softly.

Well, not any more, apparently! Ed's vision blurred as Roy rubbed his fingers against him; his legs quit on him, and he sagged against the Colonel.

Roy released his groin and Ed's held breath shuddered from him; his pajama bottoms began to pool around his ankles, and Ed made a desperate lunge for them, but it was too late; the Colonel had him by the waist and was already flipping him over one shoulder, again, like a disobedient child that had to be punished. The pants were left in a red puddle on the floor.

The shirt was long enough to cover the vital organs, of course, but Edward couldn't help how suddenly and horribly vulnerable he felt; the flannel fell lightly over his buttocks, barely covering them. He made fists against the small of Mustang's back and growled.

And Mustang laughed. Damn him, anyway.

Mustang was more gentle about depositing Edward on the bed this time, though, practically laying him upon the sheets, and Ed turned his head to the side and blushed when he realized how obvious his erection was over the flat of his stomach, even through the material.

Fingers lightly brushed over the length of his erection through the shirt, and Edward shivered uncomfortably; he looked back up to see the Colonel had one knee on the bed between Ed's own knees, his other foot planted on the ground next to the bed, and was leaning over him leeringly. "You look good like this," he murmured in a low voice, thumbing Ed's lower lip (it took willpower not to bite said thumb off), "in that just barely covers you." The last part was said in a voice that hardly qualified as a whisper, as the Colonel bent close to Ed's ear and licked the edge of it. Ed shuddered violently, started to jerk away, but the Colonel's hands came down against his shoulders, gently holding him in place, as he chuckled. "Ah, Edward Elric, you should get used to hearing compliments—you are quite the handsome young man."

"Not from you," Ed shot back angrily, irritated that the Colonel seemed to find it so easy to insult him, to tease him, to—to say the right things to get under his skin—and then his thoughts derailed, crashed, and burned, as Roy's mouth pressed against that spot on his neck right behind his ear. It was like a magic Ed had no concept of, but for some reason, wet lips against the back of his hairline was paradise on earth. And damn Mustang for being the one to bring it to him. Yet Ed could not move and practically couldn't breathe as his body gave him away, trembling, forcing air to his lungs as a gasp.

Finally Roy's mouth moved on from caressing that spot, placing kisses down his neck, and Ed could not help the shaky sigh of relief that escaped him. But the torture was far from over; Mustang's knee was inching up his thighs, forcing them further apart as it threatened his groin. The shirt bunched against the Colonel's thigh; Ed froze at the sheer sense of vulnerability, at the sense that his body was open to touching and caressing and penetration. And the Colonel smirked down at him, that damnably calm, proud face oh-so-close, but Ed did not dare try to punch him.

Sometimes he hated having morals about rank. Sort of. But it was more of a strange, gnawing fear that if he broke away from the Colonel's grip on his shoulders, he would do something that...that later he would regret doing.

What the hell was the Colonel doing to him that he wanted this so damn much!?

Mustang's lips almost touched his ear, and his breath was hot there. "Please, relax and enjoy this, Fullmetal." But Ed could not relax, although he had the disturbing feeling he would enjoy it, whether he wished to or not.

The Colonel's knee just barely touched his scrotum, and at the same time Mustang's tongue caressed the lobe of his right ear, drawing it into his mouth, where he gently bit it. The sensation of wet heat and the sting of teeth on one of Ed's weak spots gave him shivers; his fingers clawed at the sheets without his notice. He arched his neck away after a moment or two, unable to stand it any longer, fighting his own body's response, but this only increased access to his neck. Mustang took full advantage of it, nipping at his throat and laving the hurt with his tongue until Ed was squirming helplessly under him, panting for breath. His knowledge of the world narrowed to the pinpoint of a hot mouth at his collarbone, at his hairline, on his vocal cords...

He was torn between relief and loss when those warm lips and tongue left his throat; his awareness increased again, slowly, and he realized that Roy had shifted himself between Ed's legs, his knees pressed about halfway up Ed's inner thighs; he was still held down, although not very tightly, by a hand against his chest. A burst of anger took Ed, followed very closely by a burst of embarrassment at his vulnerability and how easily his defenses had been crossed—but it was only made worse when the Colonel slowly ran the fingers of his free hand over Ed's inner thigh, from his own knee to close-to-but-not-touching Ed's balls, and back. It tickled and electrified every nerve in Ed's body; the Colonel's flannel top was suddenly softer, somehow, more noticeable. He had no idea how red he turned at how obscenely he tented the too-long shirttails, but judging from Mustang's damnable smirk, it had to be one fantastic shade.

"Stoppit," Ed said, trying to keep the mumble from sounding plaintive and failing miserably.

"You don't really want me to, do you?" Mustang murmured, his voice dripping with suggestiveness as he leaned over Ed, pulling the boxers he had worn to bed down his legs with one thumb, freeing his own erection; he pushed them down to his knees and jockeyed them off slowly. "What you really want," he continued, leaning further forward, his lips an inch from Ed's, "is for me to stop teasing you—" now their lips brushed with every word Roy spoke—"and touch you—" the flannel shifted against Ed's erection as Mustang gently cupped Edward's groin, shifting his hand—"right here." He rubbed Edward's groin hard, squeezing his balls, stroking Ed's erection with renewed vigor; Ed gasped aloud as he drowned in pleasure for a long moment, and Roy claimed his lips, his tongue thrusting into Ed's mouth, courting Ed's tongue and practically vying for his tonsils.

Edward was galled into response by Roy's fingers on his groin; he hated losing to the Colonel, hated that he lost to him every day, in every situation, and for some reason, kissing back was like a vital rebellion against that irritating command. He pressed his tongue against the Colonel's, fighting for dominance of the kiss, willingly ignoring that his hands had come up to grasp the thin white t-shirt Mustang had worn to bed to hold him down into the kiss. He sucked and chewed at and licked the Colonel's mouth; the Colonel did the same to him, and fondled Ed's groin until the young man couldn't help but jerk his hips in response, desiring more and more friction at the expense of what shreds of dignity he may have still had.

It took a moment for Ed to notice when the hand on his groin migrated to his hips, the residual pleasure was so strong, but as he forced the bucking of his own hips to slow, he realized that Mustang had spread his legs further apart with his knees, leaving him even more exposed.

Mustang broke off the kiss finally, sucking at Ed's lower lip a moment longer, before leaning forward over Ed, grasping for something off to the side. Edward, lips swollen and fighting for control of his breathing, craned his neck to see what he was reaching for. What he saw was lube.

Ed pressed his lips together a little nervously as Roy murmured, "Stay still," and lifted his hand off Ed's chest, sitting back briefly to snap the cap off the tube and pour the contents over one hand; he recapped it and put it down at his side. Slowly and deliberately he slid his dry hand up Ed's thigh, under the pajamas; it tickled, and Ed couldn't help squirming just a little, snarling silently when the Colonel chuckled at him for it. He then flipped the shirt up over Ed's stomach to expose his erection. "Hm." He slid two wet fingers up over Ed's length, and Ed lifted his hips into the touch wantonly, pleasure making a warm ball in the pit of his stomach. Then those wet fingers pressed against his anus, rubbing the tight ring of muscle, encouraging it to relax enough to let in a finger.

It stung, actually, and Edward couldn't help wincing as his sphincter protested; it had been well abused the night before. But Mustang bent over him, stroking Ed's erection agonizingly slowly with the palm of his dry hand, and Ed almost forgot about the pain in his rear entirely, letting his eyes slide closed and fisting his fingers in the sheets. He pressed his lips shut against the rising moan in his throat; the Colonel's hot breath burned his collarbone, and his groin ached with dissatisfaction. He only noted the increased sting and ache inside himself when Roy managed to slide one finger inside him, and then a second one shortly after, before forcing his mind from them, drowning himself in the pleasure.

Ed had no concept of how much time passed until Mustang's lips and breath left the base of his neck and the hands inside him and wrapped around him relocated to his hips. He slowly lifted his head when Mustang began to shift over him, pulling Ed's hips up over his thighs. The shirt scratched against Ed's back as it bunched up against the Colonel's knees, riding up his stomach.

"Hm," said Mustang, a contemplative look crossing his face. "This would be easier if your legs were long enough to hook over my shoulders."

Ed felt his brain attempt Flying Rage at the insult to the length of his legs, and thus his height, but it ran smack up against Pleasure, which had colonized the larger part of Ed's consciousness and had no place for his irritation. He ended up growling, which only drew an amused sound from the Colonel, who leaned over Ed again, hooking Ed's legs gently to increase his access to Ed's anus. He pulled Ed up his long thighs by his hips, then reached for himself with the smallest grimace of pleasure, and guided himself to Ed's entrance.

Ed braced himself inwardly, aware that it was going to hurt; with a gentle thrust of his hips, Mustang pushed past the initial ring of muscle and into Edward. Ed grimaced, biting the inside of his lower lip as his sore rear end protested the second invasion, and endured the stinging pain while the Colonel swiftly buried himself entirely in Ed.

For a long moment neither moved as Edward adjusted slowly to Mustang's length, the pain dulled by time, and Mustang bent over Ed, his breathing quickened but that little masterful smile on his face. "You little—" Ed began as he caught a glimpse of that smirk—that bastard, looking at him like he was something he owned!—but the Colonel chuckled deeply and bent down, sliding his fingers and hands between Edward's back and the bedsheets. He then lifted Ed off the bed with one arm and pushed himself upright, so Edward was sitting impaled in his lap. The nightshirt tumbled down over Ed's sensitized body to settle over his back and covering his somewhat flagging erection. The light touch electrified it, and that, combined with the change in position that caused Mustang's length to shift inside Ed, made the young man gasp and press his face against the Colonel's shoulder, grasping his sides as he struggled for self-control again.

"If I were you," the Colonel said calmly as he wrapped his arms around Edward, supporting him a little off Mustang's thighs, "I would not have much to say about being little."

Edward growled, searching for a response, but in truth his mind was derailing. "Bastard," he managed, before Mustang rocked underneath him, sliding out of Ed halfway and pushing back in rapidly. Edward's fingers spasmed against Mustang's sides; there was a sharp, momentary pain at the movement, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a momentary satisfaction.

The Colonel's fingers found their way to Edward's erection, covered by the flannel of Mustang's shirt, and Mustang stroked him through the shirt, supporting him with one arm as he continued to stroke into and out of him. The warm, fuzzy material tickled, but the feeling was strangely erotic, and Ed squirmed at the sensation. He pressed his face against the Colonel's shoulder, his teeth against his collarbone, and kept his breathing as even as he possibly could, drowning in pleasure. The ache from the previous night's activities was forgotten as Mustang rocked in and out of him, stroking him firmly through the nightshirt, then finally slipping his hands under it. He slid his finger over the tip of Ed's erection, and Edward had to hold his breath to cut off the moan that came to his lips.

It was almost a mercy when the Colonel finally wrapped his fingers all the way around Ed's length and fisted him, sliding his hand up and down Ed in time with his own half-thrusts into Ed. The young man's world had narrowed to the sensations in his groin and rear end; he grit his teeth and let out a sound that was not quite a whimper, letting his head fall back. Mustang lowered his lips to the base of Edward's neck, kissing him on the shallow dip where Ed's neck met his collarbone, then lifted his head enough to lick Ed's ear, his hot breath like a brand on the shell of it.

Very suddenly it was too much, and Edward clutched at the Colonel as his climax shuddered through him, his teeth clenched against sound. His vision doubled and he shut his eyes, seeing sparks as his groin seemed to catch fire in Mustang's hot, tight hand; his back went rigid as he soaked the flannel shirt with his seed. And despite his best effort, a tiny cry—'nngeh!'—escaped his lips, before he collapsed against the Colonel, chest heaving.

Mustang's fingers left Ed's flaccid length then, and Edward was dimly aware of it when the Colonel grasped him supportively, lifting Ed almost completely off his erection before yanking him back down on it, taking him roughly and quickly. Ed felt the pressure, but his nerves were still afire with the residual effects of orgasm; drained, he merely wrapped his arms around Mustang's neck wearily and hung on until the Colonel was finished.

The Colonel groaned softly—Ed more felt it than heard it as Mustang's chest rumbled with the sound—and continued to thrust into him several more times. Ed was unsure of the count; it didn't matter. But finally Mustang ground his pelvic bone against Ed's ass, and then it was Mustang's turn to go rigid; Edward felt warmth flood inside him as Roy's fingers tightened around Ed's waist, the man's body shaking slightly as he half-gasped, and moaned his release.

Slowly, slowly the Colonel relaxed, and he wrapped one arm around Ed as he lowered over him, letting them both down to the bed gradually. Once Ed was resting on his back again, Mustang pulled out of him, detaching Ed's arms from around his neck gently and wiping away the semen that clung between them. He lay down on the bed next to Edward.

The sheets were still warm from their body heat, and Edward couldn't help but relax there, feeling sated and a bit done-in. There was a fairly lengthy silence as Ed drifted somewhere between a doze and consciousness, peripherally aware that the Colonel was lightly and repeatedly running one finger over the base of his hairline on the side of his neck. He knew he had places to go and people to see, but right now, even sitting up was just too much effort.

He did not know how long they lay there, but the wet nightshirt was starting to grow cold against Ed's stomach when he reminded the Colonel, "I said no funny business."

"So you did," the Colonel remembered, and even though Ed wasn't looking at Mustang, he could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm sorry, Edward. Did I offend you?"

"Bastard," Ed answered, because answering the question required too great a loss of dignity. The Colonel chuckled, and his hand drifted down Ed's side. Ed shivered, his sensitized skin tickled by the touch. "...should get up," he added.

"It's Sunday," Roy murmured, his thumb running a firm path down the lower half of the side of Ed's ribs. "Take the opportunity to sleep in."

"With you around, I'm sure we'll be doing a lot of sleeping," Ed answered irritably.

The Colonel chuckled. "Shh, Fullmetal. I promise that I will not try any 'funny business' on you again today." Mustang pinched Ed's side gently, and withdrew his hand. "Even the Flame Alchemist needs rest."

Ed turned his head towards the Colonel, but the man's eyes were already closed, and Ed couldn't help but think that really, Mustang looked very much at peace. He frowned at the relaxed face sleepily, exhaustion creeping back onto him. "Well..."

That peaceful mouth quirked. "We can take a shower together later."

Ed would have growled, but fatigue got the better of him, and he fell back into a doze to the sound of the Colonel's soft laughter.