Ed started awake from his nap as the front door banged open. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch—shit, had he really fallen asleep that long ago? He'd sent Al out to get lunch hours ago.
"Sorry it took so long," Al called from the hallway. Ed heard him toss something onto the floor; then he appeared in the kitchen doorway, flushed with heat and laden with boxes of food. "I got distracted—one of the bookstores is selling hardback copies of Martinier's Ex Machina."
"No problem." Ed yawned and stretched—shit, he'd be wishing he hadn't fallen asleep in a chair later tonight. Rubbing his automail, he asked, "What'd you get?"
A playful smile tugged at Al's lips. "I went back to the restaurant," he said, "where you took me after you got your bonus, you know?" He opened one of the boxes. "Chopped lamb with sweet sauce. Your favorite." He opened the other box. "Lasagna for me. They make the best lasagna, I should really get their recipe somehow. And—"
Ed peeked into the last box and began to grin. "Twelve-layer chocolate cake," he said. "Wow, a whole slice."
"It's probably enough for both of us, don't you think?"
"It's probably more than enough for both of us."
They pulled up chairs and dug in. The lamb was even better than Ed remembered, softer and juicier, the sauce sweeter; he'd eaten all of it in a few minutes. Without skipping a beat, Al slid him a plate of potatoes.
"Should I get a fork for the dessert?"
Al scowled. "Ed, swallow first, that's disgusting." Then he smiled, a slightly devious expression. "Actually, I was thinking we'd use our fingers for the dessert."
Edward raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" He swallowed. "That's awfully Neandarthal of you, Al."
"Shut up," Al said, reaching over and pinching his arm. "I was thinking," he said primly, a blush coloring his cheeks, "we could take it to the, uh—the—you know."
"The uh?" Ed deadpanned. "What the hell is 'the uh'?"
"Jerk," Alphonse muttered, rolling his eyes.
"If you mean the bedroom, though," Ed said, "I'd have to say hell, yes."
Al's blush intensified even as his smile slowly widened. He put down his fork, shoved away his lasagna and, leaning to put his lips next to Ed's ear, said, "First one in the bedroom gets to be on top." He bolted out of the room.
"Al—!" Ed chased after him, cursing. "Fucking cheater!"
He caught up with Al in the hallway, but his little brother shoved him away laughingly; Ed pretended to take a fall—it wasn't like he really minded being on bottom, after all, but he wasn't going to make it easy on his kid brother—and by the time he got to the bedroom, huffing, Al was already sitting on the bed.
Alphonse smiled and held out the box. "Dessert, brother?"
Ed tackled him; they fall into the sheets, Al beneath him, and wrestled for a few moments before Al kissed Ed or Ed kissed him, he couldn't really be sure. He moaned into Al's mouth, shifting on top of him, tongue flicking out to taste the lasagna and salt on Al's teeth. His brother chuckled breathily beneath him; then, without warning, he tensed and flipped Ed over.
"Hey—!" Ed protested.
Al smiled and tsked at him. "I bought the dessert," he said, opening the box's top, "I get to decide what we do with it, brother."
That didn't sound too bad, honestly, but Ed bucked his hips anyway and grinned when Al drew in a breath.
"Naughty brother," Al said lightly. He ran his finger through the cake, then pulled it out and held it up carefully, making sure the chocolate didn't drip off. He smiled, bent low, held the finger to Edward's lips. "Suck on it," he said in a low voice.
Ed's mouth went dry. Alphonse smiled again, the expression warm and loving, and Ed couldn't resist shifting underneath him, bringing their hips closer together. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, closing his lips around Al's finger and guiding it in. Rich, cool chocolate filled his mouth; he closed his eyes and swallowed the first mouthful, then sucked the rest off of Al's finger until all he could taste was Al's skin, hot and slightly salty.
"God," Al said in a breathless voice. "Brother...." He shook his head, pulled his finger out of Ed's mouth and reached again for the cake. This time, he scooped up a handful. He glanced over at Ed, quirking an eyebrow. "Want to eat it?" he said, sounding halfway close to laughing.
Ed grinned himself and opened his mouth in answer. Al fed him the cake, gently and slowly, handful by handful; ever so often he leaned in to kiss Ed, sampling the chocolate from his mouth. Edward pulled him in closer, wrapping his arms around Al's back and pressing him down onto the bed; he sucked on Al's bottom lip briefly before pulling back and saying, "Fuck the cake, Alphonse. Just do me already."
Al frowned. "Don't you like it?" He grabbed the box and reached across Edward to set it on the bedside table. "I just wanted to do something—you know, different." He bit his lip.
"Al." Edward rolled his eyes. "I fucking loved it, but now I want to be having sex, okay?"
"So crude," Al murmured, but his smile was back. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss onto Ed's mouth. "I love you, you know."
"Yeah, yeah, I love you, too." Ed tilted his hips up and ground against him. "Flattery," he gasped, "will—only get you so far with me, though." He reached up, wrapping his arms around Al and pulling him down into another kiss. He could taste the chocolate from his mouth inside Al's, and God damn if it didn't turn him on in the worst way. He shifted again, uncomfortable.
Al broke the kiss with a soft noise, breathing hard, flushed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned at Ed. "I'm glad you liked the cake, though." Without waiting for an answer, he set his hands on Edward's hips and braced against him as he slid down the bed, maneuvering until he could fit his head between Ed's legs.
Ed took a deep breath, tilting his head back. It was in the middle of the afternoon—he'd kind of hoped Al would fuck him, but his little brother had weird ideas about doing it at nighttime. He pressed his hands into Al's hair, applying gentle pressure, and smirked to himself. This would work, though.
Al's mouth closed around the head of his erection and Ed sucked in a sharp breath, gritting his teeth, letting his head fall back onto the bed. He tried to arch up but Al's hands pressed firmly on his hips. He murmured around Ed's cock—probably along the lines of 'please don't choke me, if you'd please.' Then Al's lips slid around the rest of Edward's cock, his tongue touching the underside, and Ed shouted, bucking up, losing all coherent thought—only able to feel Al's mouth around him, his hands on his hips, his body a warm weight where it pressed against Ed's. He was half-hyperventilating, trying to lift up his hips and groaning when he couldn't, digging his fingers into the bedsheets and God, Al—couldn't you go faster—and then Al hummed, and Ed's entire body tightened and tensed as fire raced up from his dick to his fingers, his spine, his head, his brain.
He fell back against the sheets, panting. The world went slightly dark and Edward closed his eyes, letting the moment pass over him and recede. When he opened his eyes again, Al was still nestled between his legs, smiling a smile of pure adoration. It brought a blush to Ed's cheeks and he held out an arm, silently.
Al nestled into it, folding himself against Ed's body and fitting his head into the curve of Ed's shoulder. They lay silent for a few minutes, letting their breathing settle and their temperatures return to normal. Ed was aware that Al's erection was still fresh, waiting to be taken care of; the thought made him tingle a little. He turned his head to press a kiss to the top of Al's head.
After another pause, Al said breathlessly, "The cake was really good, though, wasn't it?"
"Alphonse," Ed said, affecting a pout, "this is where you're supposed to say how good I am, not how good the bloody cake is."
"Sorry, brother." Al closed his eyes and smiled. "It's just that I have you every night, but I've never had cake like that before."
"Brat." Ed pinched Al's cheek and smiled, himself. "I love you, too."