When it was all said and done, Colonel Roy Mustang really didn't like sex. While the aftereffects were nice and relaxing, he found many of the procedures much like a ballroom dance.
For the truth was, Mustang liked dancing. The type of dance he liked the most was against a worthy opponent, dueling back and forth with verbal points. Dodge or block, it was still a whirlwind of events that could end up with him either winning or losing. With such uncertain outcome, who wouldn't like sparring verbally?
A political dance was just as worthy, but the stakes were much higher. A promotion, life, and death hinged on who won. Mustang had practice dancing in uncertain footing, however, such high stakes did not make the dance worth it.
But sex... it was much like dancing in a ballroom. You stepped forward, and you were certain what your partner would do. You slipped fingers into wet folds, and it was certain an erotic sigh would escape lips. There was almost no challenge. The outcome was often the same, with very little changes.
Roy hated knowing what would happen with such certainty. Life was more exciting when the ending was waiting to be written instead of already set in ink.
He sat there in bed, looking over at the nude figure beside him as he explained all of this. The figure shifted, looking at him through long strands of blond hair.
"I don't understand," Edward Elric said sourly.