Meeting the Sun

"Um... Niisan? What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he replied, much too cheerfully in Al's opinion. His eyes narrowed slightly. Whenever Ed added that bit of a chuckle onto the end of his words, it definitely meant he was up to no good. That was okay, though; he knew how to get it out of him.

Al sauntered up to Ed's turned back and lazily wrapped his arms around his waist. When Ed stilled in a conditioned response – touch, warmth, comfort – he gently ran his tongue down the smooth, golden skin on the side of his neck. "Niisan," he murmured, "I know you too well to fall for that."

"Ah... Ah, well, now – A-Al," he answered falteringly, mind jumbled from distraction, "I – Damnit, Al, I can't think when you're doing that!" Ed scowled, turning a light red when Al used his teeth just there, in that little juncture of shoulder and neck that he was so sensitive to. Small tremors ran through him, and his thoughts seemed muffled with cotton, unable to think of anything but the need rising, swollen and heavy and hot in his gut. The book he'd been holding fell from his hands to settle lightly on the table, pages ruffling softly.

Pressing them closer, Al would have bemoaned the thin fabric separating them were it not for how much it was pure torture to his brother. Hard and stiff next to that place that ached, teasing blatantly and without remorse. "You're just too tense, that's all. Always hunched over a table... Take a break once in a while, won't you?" He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. Al knew how hard he'd been pressing himself lately and was determined to work out those knots in the muscles of his back.

"I'm busy!" protested Edward, but it was half-hearted at best. "I have things to do – things I can't just, just put off, or – or, oh, gods, Al – right there - "

This time it was a smirk, and he shifted his hips subtly once more, maneuvering them so Ed bumped into the table edge. He toppled forward after a bit of carefully applied pressure, sprawling across paper and ink. A soft groan came from him when Al followed, holding himself to his brother's form between the sloping cleft of his buttocks, deftly sliding the black shirt up higher. The pale skin of Al's chest, still unaccustomed to the sun, met Ed's deliciously golden back, both heated from the humid summer air and sticky with sweat.

Much too gently and entirely too slowly in Ed's opinion, Al suckled on his earlobe, swirling his tongue and keeping agonizingly still behind him. He made minute movements of his hips, pressing against his entrance, pressing, pressing, but no farther, just tiny circles made to have Ed panting with want. He didn't pant, but it was close, moaning quietly and scrabbling his fingers helplessly against the wood of the table. It was long and large and stiff and exactly what he wanted, and he wasn't getting it, damn it.

"Al," he groaned aloud, trying to push back and feel more friction, more heat, more anything, but Al's hands held him effortlessly in place. He maintained the gentle licks on his ear but, if anything, slowed that wonderful, torturous motion he'd been making.

"Mm, yes, Niisan?"

"Don't just – just – oh, come on, goddamnit, do something!"

"I am, aren't I?" And then there was a hand slipping discreetly down his pants, between soft cloth and softer skin, massaging gently and shallowly where the nest of dark blonde hairs lay.

Edward groaned again, incoherent, bright yellow hair messy and coming out of its entrapment. His eyes were dazed and vague with lust, his fingers curled and immobile.

It was exactly the way Al licked him best, prone and trapped beneath him and so willing he hurt himself trying to get more.

That evening, when Roy returned home, he smirked at the faint ink print on Edward's cheek, the tell-tale disarray of hair, the careless organization on the table, the very satisfied just-conquered-his-older-brother smile on Alphonse's face. "Anxious, were you?" he asked lightly.

"Oh, shut up," grumbled Ed.

Al and Roy shared smirks.

"I hope you're not too sore. I've had a tiresome day," said Roy meaningfully, looking as if he rather hoped he was sore just so he could worsen it.

"I said shut up, you bastard!" he hissed back, turning a bright red. With a violent air of abandon only Edward could manage, he thrust himself into his seat and had to grit his teeth against the yelp that tried to emerge. Fuck, that hurt.

Roy saw him wince and grinned outright. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

"Shut up!"