The New and Improved - Rocket Science
Title: Rocket Science
Pairing: HeiderichxEd
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Alfons' mind was more in tune with how much thrust per square inch it would take to get 'x' amount of mass off the ground than how to show a potential lover how to kiss.
Spoilers: None unless you do not know who Alfons Heiderich is
Notes: Thanks to kaltia for the beta
Word Count: 10,011
This is the original fic with all Ed's dialogue rewritten to be more Ed and less like Ed was snorting a ground up Jane Austen novel. kaltia and hime199 let me know if Ed is less British Nanny now.
“You shouldn't let yourself become so discouraged, Edward,” Alfons said, setting the bag down on the small table and reaching in to pull out the few things he'd bought to serve as dinner. “I also think you need more sunshine. You're become such a luftmensch - I'm sure it's not healthy.”
Ed pushed his glasses up his nose with the pinky of his flesh hand, surveying the contents of the bag as they were set on the table. His mouth almost watered at the cheese, but if he showed too much interest Alfons would make sure he got the larger portion and would take little for himself. Alfons had a lot of nerve speaking to Ed about his health when he should be worrying about his own.
“Sunlight is overrated, and I've seen enough in my day,” Ed replied. “Are you going to cook eggs ?” he added hopefully. Eggs with cheese sounded very good indeed.
“You’re trying to change the subject,” Alfons said. “Yes , I will cook you eggs. As I was saying, I think perhaps a change in perspective might help the situation. A fresh outlook often brings new revelations,” Alfons moved across the small kitchen where most of the space was occupied by the table, and opened the ice box carefully. It was old and the hinges were weak and they both lived in the fear that the door would fall off one day, and leave them with just a box to set things in to spoil.
“It's easy for you to say,” Ed told him, sitting back in the chair and folding his arms over his chest. “That is, when you're not trying to blow yourself up.”
Alfons chuckled and moved to the stove, pulling a frying pan off the hook behind it. He took the eggs he'd retrieved and set them in a chipped glass bowl so they wouldn't roll away. He then came to the table and collected the cheese and bread and tomato, and took them to the cabinet as well.
Ed began tidying up his academic mess as Alfons cooked dinner. He took the books and pens to the next room and laid them on the small side table beside the sofa. The smell of toast and fried eggs and tomatoes starting to make him very hungry. He was used to lean times, but even at his leanest back home they were never quite like this. Alfons thinness coupled with his bad cough often worried Ed into skipping lunch and lying about it when Alfons asked. It was really him imposing on Alfons' good nature in the first place, so it wasn't a lie he was ashamed of; Alfons needed lunch more than he did.
“Come on Edward, it'll get cold,” Alfons called from the kitchen; Ed grinned and came back in. Alfons set down a plate for him on the table, and fetched a glass to get him some water. (Since no amount of convincing could get him to drink milk, he tried instead to shove as much cheese down Edward's throat as he could. No logical argument could ever convince his friend that if he liked cheese, he might also like milk.).
For the most part dinner was eaten in silence. They were both tired from the day, and too hungry to want to waste energy on small talk at the table. Edward did the dishes because Alfons did the cooking, and that evening found them both in the smaller room that had been allocated to be the 'living' room - when in honesty they did more living in the kitchen, for the table top space and the food.
They sat side by side on the couch under the window, and had both lamps lit to fight the approaching gloom. Alfons was idling over a book about combustion while Edward was writing copious notes of dubious nature; and even though he tried to make them seem like nothing, whenever Alfons' eyes strayed towards them, Edward seemed to need to turn away and move the notes with him. In their acquaintance Alfons had become used to many of Edward's mysterious habits: the way he always wore gloves to hide his false hand (which in itself was an amazing feat of engineering, but no amount of subtle questioning could get Edward to be forthright about its manufacturer. Edward had many spares in his room, crated upright in boxes. Sometimes at night Alfons would walk by the door and suppress the willies at the sight of a boxful of hands reaching toward the ceiling in supplication), the way he seldom spoke of anything that had happened before the yesterday, or the way he would spend a lot of quiet time just looking out the window toward the sky. As if somehow he could pierce the gaze of the gas streetlamps and find his answers among the stars.
The stars were one thing the two of them held in common. Not only for the symbolism of what they both seemed to want, but for the simple beauty and depth of the night sky. During warmer days they would sometimes make the journey just outside the city and sit on the hood of Ed's battered car, and talk about those mysterious gasous balls of light. It was always in scientific terms, about the spatial distances, the composition, the speculation of why they shone so brightly. But often, time after time, they would both merely watch them and dream. It was during these forays into the dusk around Munich that Alfons would have a small dream of his own that he couldn't quite share with Edward.
It may have to do with the way Edward's ponytail would trail down his back when he was looking up, or the line of his throat, or the wonder clouded by sadness in his eyes. Sometimes when Ed was intent on the sky above him and Alfons was sitting on his right side, he would rest his fingers, lightly, against the side of Edward's false hand. Edward never seemed to notice, (or if he did, he didn’t mention it), and in this way Alfons made just a bit of his private dream a reality. But such things were in general, best left unsaid and undone. For on one hand he did not know was if Edward had reservations or objections to certain views, and on the other he was too much of a coward to find out.
But sitting side by side on the couch with Alfons sitting to Edward right made the blond's hand a temptation. Edward was resting it between the two of them at the moment, rereading his own notes (Alfons was sure Edward often looked confused by them, and from Edward's penmanship he wasn't surprised), and sucking on his bottom lip. He really shouldn’t suck on his bottom lip in such a manner. It made him look younger and it made Alfons bolder, and neither was a good thing, really. Alfons seemed surprised when his fingers brushed the smooth and cool surface of the hand-shaped object between them. He slowly hooked his pinky over its false counterpart and tried to keep watch through his peripheral vision, should Edward look down or look like he might want to raise his hand.
When after a bit nothing happened, Alfons let himself be pulled back into his text and quite honestly forgot what he was doing until his hand was lifted into the air. He turned his head quickly, and met Edward's bemused eyes as he held their hands aloft, entwined each by their pinky fingers. Alfons took the opportunity to use his best baffled expression, and gave his hand a little tug, pulling his pinky free. Edward really didn't say anything more about it, but watched Alfons resettle his wandering hand into his own lap before glancing back at his notes.
It almost seemed that Edward was sorry to have disturbed the contact, by the way his eyes had lingered on Alfons hand once he'd moved it, and that is perhaps what moved Alfons to speak.
“Are you lonely, Edward?” Alfons asked, fingering the bottom of his text a bit, because sometimes personal questions could make Edward brood for days.
“Lonely?” Edward said, turning his head and looking a bit surprised. “You geek, I suppose having you for company doesn't count?” Edward gave a half smile, but there was something untold in his expression.
“You’re going to think me mad,” Alfons said, “But now that I've actually come out and said it, I don't see why I shouldn't say the rest. I sometimes get the impression that when you’re looking at me, you aren't seeing me. It's almost as if you are looking for something else, and you have this expression in your eyes. I feel rather helpless at those times and I'm not sure what to say, and so I say nothing. You never talk about your home or your family, when I know I have bored you to tears with mine. I always wonder what you are looking for, and how you lost it. It makes me want to reach out to you in a way, to make you feel...well... more at home here. It may not be where you want to be, but it is where you are now. I don't like seeing you upset yourself so much over things that you can't see. I'd rather you live here while you are here, even if you go elsewhere later,” Alfons shook his head. “I'm sorry, maybe I'm being a bit forward.”
“No, I'm sorry,” Edward said quietly, and Alfons felt a small start of surprise. “When I first met you, I thought I saw something that I had lost, and that's not fair, to either of us, but now that I know you, I realize that...” Edward stopped, closed his notes and set them aside. He half turned on the couch to better face Alfons and Alfons did the same, closing his own text and turning toward Edward.
“It's really you who are going to think I'm insane,” Edward said. “There is something I want to tell you. I feel I can trust you. Even if you don't believe me when I'm through, I don't think you will judge me for it.”
For what seemed like hours afterwards, Alfons sat in rapt attention to Edward's every word, and found his horizons broadened as never before.
***
“See?” Edward said as he drew his tale to a close, “we're both commitable.”
Alfons wasn't sure what he was supposed to say at that point. He knew the appropriate words, but did he actually believe them? More importantly, did he believe Edward? The smaller man gave him an anxious look, and then turned his eyes away. He seemed to be, once again, drawing himself into his inner turmoil, trying to smooth his features as if to laugh it off and tell Alfons it was all just fancy. But Edward could never properly mask his eyes; they were his most striking and telling feature.
“Thank you for telling me,” Alfons said. His own life was fancy, his own mortality as well, and if he couldn't believe the dreams of another, then what were his own dreams? “I believe you.”
Edward's eyes darted to him then, his eyebrows raising; a smile threatened his lips, but he tried to withdraw into himself again. He was always swimming in doubt, Alfons realized, even when he craved acceptance.
“You don’t need to humor me Alfons,” Edward mumbled. “I know I sound off my fucking nut.” He gave a small, bitter laugh.
Alfons leaned across the space between them then, planting his hands on the couch and raising himself almost nose to nose with Edward. The other man's eyebrows climbed considerably higher, and his eyes widened. Alfons arranged his face into a scowl, his own eyebrows dipping down in the center.
“I am offended,” Alfons informed Edward, and Edward's throat worked as he started to speak - but Alfons cut him off. “If you make so light of my acceptance, why tell me the story in the first place? Perhaps you wanted to test my gullibility?”
“N..no,” Edward stuttered. “It's not like that Alfons, I didn't mean...”
“So you tell me you trust me and then tell me about your life,” Alfons said, “and you have so little faith in me to think I don’t' believe you?”
Edward seemed to be wilting in on himself and fumbling for the right words to say. Alfons was so sure he could read Edward by his eyes that he didn't look elsewhere, and he suddenly saw something else, a new fear - a fear of Alfons himself, it seemed. That was interesting and alarming, and perhaps he was being too hard on Edward.
“I'm sorry, I'm not making fun of you!” Edward said. “It's just so fucking unbelieveable, I'd have a hard time believing it if I were you,” he rushed. “I'm not out to make you mad at me Alfons, ok? Just let me be sorry about this and forget it.”
He's afraid he will lose me, too.
Unbidden, that thought stirred Alfons’ other hope. He bunched his fingers into the cushioning of the couch and didn't move, didn't draw back.
“Apology accepted,” Alfons said. “Do you know how I can make you feel more at ease here? How I can make this more like home?”
Edward seemed to give a guilty start and then sighed.
“I 'll just try to live here and now, like you want,” Edward said. “It's just hard sometimes, you know?. But having someone who knows helps. You're a lot nicer to me than you should be sometimes.”
Alfons swallowed.
I shouldn't, it will seem like I'm taking advantage.
He watched Edward's gaze travel for a moment to his lips before darting aside again.
He has shown me how to be brave in these matters of uncertainty. He has shown me how to speak what I want to say.
“Edward, there is something I want to ask you, but I find I don't have the right words,” Alfons said.
Edward lifted his eyes again, parted his mouth as if to ask his own question, and Alfons leaned forward and pressed his mouth over Edward's. Edward started and jerked and stiffened for a long moment, but he didn't pull back, nor push Alfons away. In fact, Alfons felt a tremor in his lips, and was sure it had traveled down the smaller man's body. When Alfons pulled back Edward stared at him for a long moment, then pushed himself up and off the couch and retreated without a word to his room, shutting the door behind him.
Alfons let his head fall to the back of the couch and wondered if he hadn't just messed up the best thing to come his way in years.
***
It was an empty house Alfons woke up to - not that he had slept in it that long. But long enough, it seemed, for Edward to sneak out in the morning hours. The kitchen was cold and empty; no residual heat from the stove, the counter just as it was the night before. Edward hadn't eaten again, and Alfons ran his hand over his face in aggravation. What was he going to do now? Going out and chasing Edward all over the city was hardly an option. Edward was far too easy prey anyway since he was probably at the library, which was more his home than this apartment. Even if he did confront Edward, then what?
He would apologize, of course. He would tell Edward that it was all just fancy and perhaps the emotion of the moment...and he would do just as Edward did to him last night. He would bare his soul and then try to take it back. Edward would be no more appreciative than he was, and they would be back to square one and all of this for nothing.
It was more aggravating in the long run that Edward had chosen to flee the situation. He would have to come back tonight. He would come back tonight. He better come back tonight, or Alfons would have to scour the city. Edward was truly a lost soul, and he had nowhere else to go. Alfons would make it right again, at whatever expense was necessary. He would not be responsible for Edward losing his home again (as much as he could ever really consider this place home), that he didn't think he could stand it.
He left the house only once - because while Edward was good about going without food all day, he should at least have something a little hardier than eggs for supper - and came home and cooked dinner at the appropriate time. But there was no Edward. At first he merely paced the rooms, and tried to look through one of his texts. It wasn't unusual for Edward to be late for supper on occasion. He found himself lingering near the large picture window that over looked the street from their apartments. When the gas lights were lit for the coming gloom, he decided he would have to take a walking tour of the city and went to get his jacket. It was then the front door opened and closed quietly and the uneven gate sounded in the hall. Alfons causally leaned out of the doorway to his room, and came face to face with the object of his evening’s worry , and they regarded each other in silence for a few moments.
“I'm sor...” Alfons started, but he wasn’t, really, and so he shut his mouth. Edward rolled his shoulders and looked to the side.
“You're late to dinner,” Alfons said. “I've got yours covered on the stove, I can heat it up for you.”
“Sorry to be a bother,” Edward mumbled. “I was the one late, I can do it.”
“You're not a bother, cooking dinner is my job,” Alfons said, tossing his coat back into his room and on his bed. He undid his cuffs as he came into the hall and folded them back over his sleeve.
“Alfons,” Edward said and the young man stopped and looked at him. “Sorry about last night, about this morning, about just leaving without saying anything.” He gave a shrug and jammed his hands into his pockets.
“Don't be sorry Edward,” Alfons said . “There are things that people do that perhaps they shouldn't, and you have a right to agree or disagree as you chose. I wouldn't ever hold that against you, my friend.”
“I just don't...I mean...No one has ever done that before, like on the lips. No one has ever wanted to do it before, so I don't know how to act,” Edward confessed. “I didn't think anyone would want to do that sort of thing with a half machine freak, you know?” He laughed a little, trying to make light of it while his cheeks blazed. Alfons made a sound of disbelief.
“What do you mean? You've never had anyone who was interested?” Alfons asked incredulously. “I find that hard to believe.”
Edward colored up even further.
“It's not like I had time for that sort of thing anyways,” he said with a wave of his hand, as if he could somehow make the conversation dissapate like smoke. “I had my brother to worry about and other shit that got in the way. And you know, like I said, people don't actually look at people who are missing parts, no matter how shiny the replacements are.”
“I think you are self delusional,” Alfons said. “For what reason, I'm sure I don't know, but knowing you as I do, you are right. Only, I think you were too consumed in your quest to notice the regards around you. Edward, how could anyone not want you?”
Edward gave a physical start and his cheeks were now high scarlet.
“I'm sure it's all that rocket fuel that's eating through your brain,” the shorter blond said.
Alfons rolled his eyes and shook his head, and went to move past Edward.
“I'll get your dinner,” the taller blond said.
“Wait,” Edward exclaimed and grabbed Alfons' sleeve. and Alfons could have no more moved past him then than been able to stop breathing.
“All that stuff you said about being here, about trying to make it a home...,” Edward's voice carried to him, but Edward's eyes were on the floor. “When you...when you kissed me,” Edward's voice dropped to an embarrased mumble, “It didn't seem...I mean, it wasn't like I was by myself here. It made it better...maybe.”
Alfons turned slowly and Edward's hand dropped away. Alfons moved his hands to Edward's shoulders, and tipped his head down; Edward finally looked up and closed his eyes as Alfons lips met his again. It was slow and questioning and when Edward parted his lips, just a little of Alfons’ touch became more seeking. One of Alfons' hands left his shoulder and rested lightly against his cheek. When the taller man pulled back, he stopped to kiss Edward's forehead, and the hand on his cheek moved up, the fingers combing through Edward's heavy bangs, he smiled.
“I'm glad,” Alfons said, “Come to dinner and we can talk some more after you've eaten. I know you skipped breakfast as well as lunch, and didn't have money enough to get anything decent. I cheated our research budget a little and got some sausages.”
Edward followed him willingly into the kitchen.
***
After dinner found them in the living room once again, but it was a very different atmosphere from the night before. They were both on the couch, side by side. Edward was sitting up straight instead of his usual comfortable slouch, and he had his hands fisted and resting on his knees. Alfons was also sitting up straight and wondering what he should do, to make Edward more comfortable with the situation. In the hallway Edward had proven he was willing to be kissed, and from his timid lip movements he seemed willing to learn to kiss, but how to go about it, exactly? Alfons' mind was more in tune with how much thrust per square inch it would take to get 'x' amount of mass off the ground than how to show a potential lover how to kiss. He squirmed a little at the word thrust when it played across his mind, and told himself in no uncertain terms he needed to slow down. Edward was doing the perfect imitation of a rabbit at the moment, looking for a place to bolt, and any aggressive moves just might send him fleeing for the safety of the crawlspace under his bed.
But then again Alfons had underestimated Edward before. (He could indeed climb very well with those artificial limbs, and never mind Alfons' own near heart attack when he saw just how high).
“Ok, so,” Edward said and straightened his shoulders. Edward tackled potential problems head on, like a blond bull; it shouldn't surprise Alfons that Edward saw this as just another obstacle to overcome. “I think I have the kissing part down.” He shot a glare at Alfons when the taller man dared to chuckle. Alfons thinned his lips and rolled his eyes to the side innocently, and Edward glared harder.
“What? You don't think I do?” Edward snarled. “It's not like it seems all that hard, all you did was mash your mouth on mine and move it around a little. How hard can it be?”
“I beg to differ, Edward,” Alfons said. “As it is with all situations, that is but one variable.” He smiled and leaned toward Edward. “Allow me to demonstrate?”
“Might as well, you've already had your lips all over me once,” Edward closed his eyes and slightly puckered his lips and waited. Alfons made several unseen facial contortions in his attempt not to laugh, because laughing at this critical point could be bad. Edward was also famous for his temper should he feel he'd been slighted, and that was the last thing Alfons wanted to deal with. Alfons leaned over and gave Edward a peck on his puckered lips and Edward's eyes fluttered open; his brow quirked up, and he searched Alfons' eyes for a moment.
“What was that?” Edward demanded, for it had been nothing like the one in the hall that had made his insides melt and run into his toes.
“A kiss, one of many different types,” Alfons informed him. “Since you saw fit to pucker up for me, I only returned the favor.”
At this Edward seemed to flounder, and Alfons felt some satisfaction that Edward was obviously expecting something more like what he'd had before, and yet didn't know how to go about asking for it. It seemed a little unfair to Alfons to withhold such knowledge, so he kindly caught Edward's chin and tilted his face up, covering his mouth again. This time he indulged himself a little with a bit of tongue over Edward's lovely lower lip, and Edward leaned toward him; Alfons released his chin and ran his hand up the side of Edward's face into his hair. Here they sat on the couch a little way away from each other, leaning into each other and kissing rather passionately. Alfons decided he'd like to be a bit closer at approximately the same time Edward did, and the result was that they both tried to occupy the empty space between them at the same time. It startled them enough that they pulled apart and looked at each other quizzically for a moment, then they both grinned. Once they'd renegotiated territory, they leaned into each other again, (this time it was not so much of a stretch) and Alfons began to instruct in the use of the tongue as a means of heightening the pleasure of a kiss. Edward seemed to shy from it a bit at first, but he soon warmed to it. He warmed enough that his hand rose, and his fingers dug into the sleeve of the arm Alfons was using to hold Edward's head steady by splaying the fingers of his hand over the back of Edward's head.
When Alfons pulled away this time Edward was flushed, and his lips moved a little, like he might have wanted to say something but couldn't draw the breath. Alfons lowered his head further then, tilted it to the side; laid his lips on the side of Edward's neck and Edward made a small surprised sound, followed by a deeper lush sound when Alfons used his lips to trace his neck up to his ear.
“Edward,” Alfons said, a whisper quiet in the ear he had so recently conquered. “Do you think perhaps you are ready to move beyond simple kissing?”
Edward nodded mutely and Alfons released him, stood and Edward looked up at him with a dazed sort of expression, then trailing his eyes back down at the place on the couch Alfons had just abandoned in a bit of confusion. Alfons merely held his hand out and Edward's gaze look went to it, realization dawning; he took the offered hand and rose to his feet. Alfons smiled at him and gave him a small tug to get him going, and together they went into the hall. There Alfons had a slight bout of indecision. His own bed was comfortable and large enough; Edward's bed was not nearly so large. But Edward might be more comfortable in his own room, and Alfons’ mind immediately went to the crates of limbs that he found so disquieting otherwise. So he opened his door and stepped inside, looking back at Edward, with whom his fingers were still tangled.
Edward stepped in behind him and Alfons released his hand; shut the door while Edward rubbed his artificial arm with his flesh hand, his eyes darting around Alfons’ bedroom like he'd never seen it before. Alfons moved to pick his jacket up off the bed and tossed it instead on the dresser; he then turned back to Edward who had watched the motion, but Edward's own eyes went back to Alfons when he'd turned around. Alfons walked back over, reached up slowly and brushed back the heavy bangs on the left side of Edward's face.
“Is this alright?” Alfons said. “Here in my room, or would you be more comfortable...?”
“Uh, it's fine,” Edward said. “Your bed is bigger, I mean, whatever you want...” Edward snapped his mouth shut.
It was amazingly endearing that his friend, the tenacious blond bull, then human cyclone; ravager of books, defender of the slight of stature and beergarten terror should be blushing and acting so shy. Alfons nodded once and reached up; shrugged his suspenders off his shoulders, letting them drop to hang at his hips. Edward hesitated a moment and then followed suit; his vest missed the dresser, however, and landed up on the floor. They both looked at it for a moment, then Alfons shrugged and started on his shirt buttons. He got his shirt open before Edward even had his collar properly undone, so he moved to help, starting lower. Together they worked the buttons open, until they met somewhere in the middle. All movement stilled for a few moments after that, and they both stared at each other's bared chest. Alfons was smooth, a bit thin and pale; Edward was darker, a bit broader and had some very fine blond down just in the center. There was a scar that ran from his right shoulder down toward the middle of his chest, but stopped before the first pectoral. There was also the leather harness that held his prosthetic in place. Edward fingered the edges of his opened shirt and looked to the side, as if ashamed of his appearance. Alfons lifted his left hand, fingers splaying, lying on Edward's cheek and along his neck. He leaned down and pressed his lips just above Edward's upper lip, his right hand moving up to grip Ed's shirt from his Edward's own fingers and push it back. Edward tilted his face up slightly; his left hand then dug into Alfons' shirt, the fingers tightening in the fabric, pulling it down, stretching it from Alfons' shoulder.
I will show you that these marks are just proof of your existence and they mean nothing more than what they are. I will make you see that you are beautiful.
Alfons' lips traveled over his cheek, down the right side of his neck and to his right shoulder. Alfons kissed what remained of the flesh there and then boldly onto the false joint, and Edward buried his face against Alfons own shoulder - Alfons heard him swallow audibly. Alfons lifted his face then, released Edward's half discarded shirt and ran his hand inside it, down the bare flesh of Edward's side, and Edward ground his forehead against Alfons' shoulder, his false hand moving up and coming against Alfons' chest. Alfons walked him then, slowly and backwards toward the bed, and Edward laid back with no resistance, looking up at the man hovering over him with an expression of both trepidation and wonder.
Alfons could no more help his need to touch Edward than his own heart’s beating and he moved then, with lips and hands. Over Edward's chest, his throat and shoulders, his lips again with Edward's moans became almost too much to bear. Edward tried to respond in kind, but it seemed for all intent and purpose he was too overwhelmed by these new sensations, and he even lifted his body at times to press to Alfons's touch. It was a heady and intoxicating revelation that Edward knew want, and Alfons felt not a little awe that it was he who would be giving Edward these first experiences of carnal pleasure. Edward seemed to have so little pleasure in his life, and his poor body was evidence of his past pains. So Alfons would not only show Edward's soul, but his flesh that pleasure was something to be cherished. When finally Alfons' lips left the already conquered territory and trailed down Edward's stomach, he felt the first real trembling in the smaller man's frame. His fingers deftly unbuckled Edward's belt, plucked open the buttons of Edward's trousers, and then trailed lightly across the waistband of Edward's linen boxers.
He glanced up to notice Edward had covered his face with his hands; Alfons moved back up his body, then, gently tugging on a wrist and exposing one side of Edward's face for light kisses. He then had the desire to see all of that thick bright golden hair unbound, so he lifted Edward's head, tucked his face against Alfons’ throat and worked the hair tie loose. Alfons’ fingers stilled for a moment when the felt the minute working of Edward's lips against his throat, in a slow halting imitation of Alfons' own mouth working Edward's throat earlier.
When the hair fell free Alfons took a moment to drag his fingers through it, and enjoy Edward's increasingly confident kissing and sucking of his neck. Edward ran his hands slowly up Alfons' sides, curled them over his shoulders and Alfons rewarded him by pressing them, chest to chest; pushing Edward into the mattress, letting him feel the contact and the weight. Their bare stomachs touched, their clothed groins touched and Alfons both shuddered and smiled at the return of his sentiment, by means of the hardness Edward pressed against his own.
Edward pulled his mouth free and groaned in Alfons’ ear, and Alfons gave a breathless noise in return. Alfons’ hand skated back down Edward's side; Edward raised his flesh knee and put his heel on the bed, tilting his hips up, as if seeking firmer contact. Alfons slid his hand around to Edward's back and down to his butt and pulled up as he pressed down; Edward shuddered and searched his eyes, and wet his lips.
They stayed like that, silent and gazing at each other until Alfons could stand the inactivity of it no longer. He lifted himself silently and steeled himself against Edward's soft wordless protest. Alfons resumed his former track with his lips; over Edward's stomach, down to where white linen lay just below his navel. Alfons hooked his fingers just under the waistband of Edward's trousers, pushing himself completely off Edward for a moment to push them down, kneeling to relieve Edward of his shoes, (but left him his socks). The trousers followed along with the shoes, and there was no real attempt made to make sure that they landed on the dresser. Alfons undid his own belt when he stood back up, and unbuttoned his own trousers. Edward was watching him with slightly widened eyes, and Alfons only smiled reassuringly.
When Alfons leaned over and put his fingers inside the waistband of Edward's boxers, Edward seemed to tense up all over. Alfons raised his eyes to golden ones and Edward gave him a frank look and dropped his head back.
“Should I wait?” Alfons asked.
“What are you asking me for? I don't know!” Ed returned. “Should you?”
“No, I'm asking you,” Alfons said. “Would you like me to leave them on for now?”
“You know I've never done this before,” Ed mumbled, eyes darting to the side. “Dont' ask me this shit, it's embarrassing.”
The side of Alfons mouth quirked up, and Edward's eyes darted back to him, going a bit dark.
“You're trying to analyze this? Give it a time table?” Alfons couldn't help his sudden grin.
Edward scowled and shifted and snorted, becoming very Edward-like in those moments. “Gah! Stop it, you know I hate not knowing,” Edward said by way of defense.
“Should I stop and let you get your notebook so you can make notes?” Alfons teased.
“Asshole,” Edward griped at him. “I hate coming off as an idiot that doesn't know what he's doing even if he doesn't know what he's doing! This bites,” he squirmed a bit.
“Edward, this isn't rocket science,” Alfons said, lifting a brow.
For a few heart beats they did no more than look at each other, then Edward broke first and howled with laughter. Alfons followed him soon after and they both ended up panting slightly; Alfons leaned down and kissed him hungrily, because Edward's smiling lips and eyes were something indeed to be cherished. The kiss evolved from that, and Edward tried gamely to respond and gagged just a bit on Alfons’ tongue; he went still as Alfons tried to keep him busy with the kiss, and at the same time relieve him of his boxers.
Alfons’ hands on his bare hips made him tremble and jump a bit. Alfons' warm lips on the divit of his throat made him tilt his head back. The slide of Alfons' lips from the divit to his navel made his stomach muscles tense and the touch of the tip of Alfons’ nose against his very evident erection made his vision swim.
***
Here was something he'd never had before. A touch he'd never known, never thought to know. A touch in a place no one had ever touched him but himself, and he was unprepared for the...electricity. The current that ran from that gentle touch through the rest of his body and nerves. It was just a touch, nothing more. But he could feel it, every last part of his body contracted to the point where just the tip of a nose laid against him was enough. It was almost too much to believe. He was almost too aroused to think, and then there was another touch, something he almost thought to be impossible. Alfons’ lips, on the very tip of all that heat and sensation between his legs; right on the very tip, nowhere else, and - was that Alfons’ tongue? Edward gasped out as his cock was moved slightly, as the head of his erection was pushed against his lower stomach by wet warmth. Then he felt Alfons' hand on his hip, kneading, and his other hand brushed the inside of Ed's thighs and moved upwards; Ed shuddered all over and then a large warm palm cupped his balls, a thumb pressing them slightly and rolling them back and forth gently.
There was no analyzing this, there was not tracking or mapping or studying this. The only guide he had was the feeling in his stomach and in his groin, and his own moans were the only words that would ever be spoken with any coherency in this event. He lifted his hips and he thought he heard Alfons chuckle but he didn't care; all he knew was want. He wanted more of this; he almost felt he could abandon the need for thought in this - he wanted this freedom, this pleasure, this escape. When Alfons’ lips closed over the head of his cock Ed's eyes flew open wide, and he stared at the ceiling and just for a moment thought he saw stars.
***
The sounds Edward made as Alfons took his cock into his throat cleared from Alfons mind any remote trace of doubt that still lingered, from when he'd begun this slow seduction. Edward's hips would not be stilled, and Alfons found he didn't care. He moved with the smaller man, letting him buck and writhe and cry out. Took his sweat and his scent into his memory and moved his mouth to illicit more cries and more thrashing. Edward did not disappoint him. The more Edward demanded, the harder Alfons worked. Yes, give Edward this abandon, this moment to just be, not to think, not to know, to just have this tactile sense overwhelm everything else. To give in, that is what Alfons wanted most for Edward, to just give in and let go of his control, if even for a little while. To breath the air as a free man, and turn his back on the world.
Here in this bed, to just be Edward and not someone's brother, someone's enemy, someone's underling. To be someone's lover, and to be loved. That is what Edward needed. He knew that other people loved Edward, and for a moment it was a jealous and unpleasant feeling, but he could shrug it off; because here Edward was his and his alone. He was an orphan in every since of the word, without family or friends or even his own culture. It was selfish, perhaps, but Alfons wanted to be the center of his world, while he could, before Edward found his way home. For surely he would, because whatever Edward desired would be his. Either by his own hand or by Alfons’.
When Edward came, Alfons still held him for a while, until he was sure Edward was completely spent. He released him slowly, kissed over the shuddering blond's stomach and moved up to lie beside him.
***
He blinked his eyes rapidly and panted hard. He fought the stinging and rising wetness and when Alfons moved to lie beside him he turned and buried his face against his chest. Alfons open shirt fluttered down over his cheek and hid him most effectively, while Alfons himself simply stroked through his unbound hair and sighed. It wasn't long before Edward spoke.
“That was a very singular experience, don't get me wrong,” he said, still slightly breathless and muffled as his face was pressed against Alfons' chest. “I'm not saying that like it's a bad thing. It's just...well it's not like anything I've ever done before, or that's been done to me before, or whatever.”
“Back to rocket science,” Alfons said. “Can't you just say if you enjoyed it or not? Why must everything thing be such a struggle with you?”
Edward pulled back then, frowned into Alfons' face and seemed to become rather aware of his nudity below the waist. He groped around, managing to snag the sheet and pull it over himself, before regarding Alfons again.
“Do you feel the need to deny it now?” Alfons questioned, feeling his heart start to sink.
Edward looked puzzled then looked flushed. “You still have your pants on,” he said.
Alfons merely shrugged and moved then, rolling onto his back, and wiggling his pants and boxers down to his knees, toeing off his shoes and then kicking them off into the floor.
“I forget,” Alfons said. “Your sense of fairness is all out of proportion.”
“What's that suppose to mean?” Ed growled, but didn't put up much of an fight when Alfons tugged the sheet away.
“It means,” Alfons said, moving back over Edward, settling down between his legs and watching Edward try to adapt to his new and very intimate position, “That sometimes you get the raw end of the deal. Honestly Edward, you think that everyone else plays by your rules, and get upset when you realize they don't. I'm not sure someone can be too moralistic...but you do test the boundaries. At times I find you a bit unbelievable; if I didn't know your sincerity for what it actually is, if there is such a thing as being too good, then I think you would be the first in line to receive the title.”
To this entire speech Edward only added: “You're still hard,” at the end, and had the audacity to blush.
“Edward, you're enough to make a priest curse, and that would take some doing,” Alfons informed him wryly.
“I just want to...give as good as I get,” Edward said, looking anywhere but at Alfons face. “You're the one harping on the fact I'm so fair.”
“So I am,” Alfons said, “so I should take my medicine.” He moved then, a slow grind of his naked hips against Edward's naked hips. His erection slid against Edward's and Edward swallowed and gave him quick anxious darts of his eyes to Alfons face. Finally Alfons captured his chin in his hand again and kissed him, as he thrust against him and let Edward become familiar with the sensation. It wasn't all that long until Edward's erection reawakened enough to be evident against Alfons' lower belly each time Alfons thrust.
***
They were both quite heated when Alfons suddenly pushed up on his hands and looked around in a half daze. In his eagerness to love Edward, he'd forgotten a basic necessity of coupling.
“What are we going to use for lubricant?” Alfons asked breathlessly.
“Lubricant?” Edward echoed in confused, heated tones beneath him and then boldly ran his hands under Alfons' shirt tail and gripped his naked ass, pulled on it.
Alfons lost all higher brain functions for the moment, and thought, in this dream like state, that Edward was asking him for lubricant and had somehow read his mind. But it was too delicious here and he didn't want to leave, and Edward obviously didn't want him to leave by the way he was pulling on his ass and raising his own hips to meet each pull. There was nothing more perfect on this earth, Alfons thought on the height of euphoria, than an aroused Edward Elric. The desire to know him intimately, inside and out, might be enough to take all common sense Alfons possessed, but in the end the sole corner of rational thought in his besieged mind prevailed. They needed lube.
He tried to push himself off and Edward made a sound almost like a wail and clung harder; he even went so far as to wrap his legs over the back of Alfons'.
“Let go, Edward,” Alfons said raggedly. “I have to get something and I'll come right back, I promise.”
“What the fuck is it you need to get?” Edward replied in husky way. “Why do you want to leave now?”
Now, when there was all this heat and sweat and musk and passion.
Alfons managed to pry the false leg free and staggered back, throwing a hand out on the wall to catch himself. Edward pushed up on his elbows, his hair in his face and over his shoulders and his lips parted and swollen from Alfons attentions, his lower body very visibly agitated from the same attentions. He gave Alfons a funny, desperate look, and Alfons willed himself not to run back over and flop back on top of him, no matter what Edward's eyes were pleading for.
“I'll be right back,” Alfons got out, almost slamming himself in the nose getting the door open and stumbling out in the hall; behind him he heard Edward make an aggravated sound of disbelief. Alfons staggered down the hall and into the kitchen, his body so sensitive that his own shirt tails brushing lightly against his bare thighs and ass were almost enough to distract him yet again. He cast about in the cabinets desperately and then leaned against the counter, trying hard to think, but it wasn't easy. He heard Edward call his name once, from down the hall.
He turned then, jerked open the ice box, (broken door be damned) and reached in barehanded, grabbing the remnants of a block of lard. There would be no fried cabbage or tomatoes until it was replaced, but some sacrifices were worth it. He hurried back down the hall and burst into the bedroom and Edward's wild eyed look; came over to the bed and Edward struck like a cobra, grabbing Alfons' shirt and jerking on it. Alfons overbalanced and toppled forward, holding the hand with the lard above his head in a desperate move to save it. His knee came very close to catching Edward in a very sensitive area and they both stopped and stared down at it wide eyed for a moment, before realizing all was still well.
With a lot of grunting and half wrestling Alfons managed to subdue Edward one handed and panted in his face.
“Edward, leave off a moment,” he said. “Do you know what we are doing?”
The question seemed to stun Edward into stillness; he gave Alfons a befuddled look and Alfons could see him working it over in his mind, like it was some trick question.
“Having sex?” Edward finally ventured.
“Yes,” Alfons encouraged, “That’s right. Do you know why I have this hand full of lard?”
“No,” Edward said slowly. “Why the fuck should I? Come on Alfons, get on with it” he panted, eyeing the contents of Alfons hand a bit dubiously. Alfons would have laughed at the look on his face if he still had the brain capacity to do so.
“It's for lubricant,” Alfons said, “because we have no oil. I wish to make love to you in a more carnal sense.” He was rather impressed he could be this lucid.
Edward struggled with the sentence for a long moment before some comprehension dawned on his visage, and he nodded slowly and glanced at the lard squeezing between Alfons fingers.
“So you understand my meaning?” Alfons said and hoped and prayed he wouldn't have to elaborate.
“Yes,” Edward said in a half exasperated way, “it's not like it's damn rocket science.”
There was a bit of giggling involved then, and Alfons was able to get up on his knees between Edward's spread legs and look down at him. Edward licked his lips, (that could just be the lard, Alfons thought, Ed also had a disproportinate fondness of fried foods that went along with his views on fairplay), and looked again to Alfons for guidance.
Alfons wasn't exactly worldly in this aspect. He had been a participant once, long ago, but on the end Edward was on now, and he struggled to recall his own experience but on the end of a ‘giver’ rather than a ‘receiver’. He transferred hands with the lard and scooted up a bit on his knees, and Edward obligingly bent his own knees and put his feet flat on the bed.
“I'll try to be as gentle as I can,” Alfons said. “It's your first time, so I don't expect you to appreciate this in the beginning, please bear with me.”
“Less talk, more do,” Edward grunted and flopped his head back to the mattress, regarding the ceiling.
Alfons spent a little time rubbing the lard between his fingers to get it softened, and then reached down slowly and laid his fingers on the cleft of Edward's butt. Edward shifted just a bit and Alfons tried to work out better logistics, Edward wasn't being readily accessible this way.
“Hook your knees over my shoulders,” he told him and Edward raised his head and gave him a raised eyebrow in response; but he lifted his legs, and Alfons leaned forward a bit so Edward could settle them over Alfons shoulders. That was much better, because now Edward's hips were angled up and Alfons could see what he was doing. Alfons spend a moment trailing his finger lightly back and forth over the tight ring of muscle, and letting Edward squirm a bit and grip the sheets. Alfons remembered he quite liked the sensation himself and it helped relax him a bit before the initial penetration. After a bit Edward started a low whine and Alfons took this as a good sign and slowly eased his finger in, stopping at the knuckle and waiting. Edward was taking in deep breaths and releasing them slowly; he turned his head to the side, his blond mane falling across his face, half obscuring it while Alfons pressed again, sinking his finger until it could go no further.
It was hot and tight and good. Edward lifted his flesh hand slowly, curling the fingers and pressing them to his lips; he tightened up just a bit and Alfons hissed softly at him.
“Stay relaxed,” Alfons told him. “You have to stay relaxed or it will hurt.”
Alfons own first lover recited it like almost a mantra at the time Alfons had been the one on his back, watching another’s face with uncertainty.
Edward nodded and took another deep breath; Alfons felt the tightness ease and nodded, satisfied. He began to move another finger into Edward and Edward whipped his head in the other direction, flesh hand dropping to pull at the sheets again. He was such beauty, with his tightly shut eyes; he was sucking on his bottom lip, his chest was moving with each deep breath he took. Alfons faltered for a moment, entranced with watching Edward and not what he was actually doing. Edward's brow wrinkled and his mouth pulled down in a frown, and he gave a low grunt; Alfons broke his trance and tried instead to concentrate on what he should do next. He knew logically that he had to 'stretch' Edward, so he scissored his fingers a bit and Edward grunted, his brows drawing down.
Alfons began to move his fingers slowly, back and forth, drawing them out a bit and moving them back in, and Edward's face screwed up and he tossed his head again, not looking overly enthusiastic about the whole thing. If only Alfons could find the right spot - the last thing he wanted was to have Edward dreading what was coming next. He worried about it, biting his own bottom lip a bit, and tried moving his fingers again when suddenly Edward gave a wild little gasp and his eyes opened. Alfons smiled and stroked over that spot again and Edward arched his head back and sobbed.
***
Slicking ones self up with lard had to be the oddest thing Alfons had ever experienced. In his previous encounter they had used oil and Alfons remembered that he'd [liked] the way it glistened on his stomach, and on the skin of the man above him. But the lard was a bit yellow and while it was sufficiently slick, it was more greasy than oily. It made Alfons' hand slip on Edward's false leg when he went to grip it behind the knee, and he tried wiping his hand on the sheet to get some of the excess off. Edward watched with a slightly bemused expression and Alfons smiled at him, then gripped him behind his false knee again and scooted up closer, folding Edward up.
He met Edward's eyes and nodded and Edward nodded back, and his fingers bunched the sheets; Alfons slowly guided himself against Edward's anus and then leaned forward, letting his weight carry him in slowly.
Edward seemed to be holding his breath and Alfons closed his eyes for a few moments and was enveloped in heat and bliss. Alfons bowed his head and kept moving slowly forward, until he felt his balls against Edward’s flesh, and then he slowly opened his eyes. Edward was flushed, shining a bit from sweat and his own eyes were closed. He had not released his death grip on the sheets and his brows where tilted upwards. For all the world he seemed to have a look of puzzlement on his face, one that Alfons found endearing. Alfons waited, shaking a bit with his own arousal; he rubbed his hands up and down Edward's legs and spoke to him softly.
“Are you alright?” Alfons asked. “Edward, is it alright?”
“It's different,” Edward said, sounding a bit gravely, “but it's not bad.”
Alfons felt the overwhelming need to be close to Edward's lips, so he slowly eased Edward's legs from his shoulders. Edward tightened just a bit and frowned, so Alfons rubbed his stomach in a placating way and waited for Edward to re-adjust before leaning over him. He stroked Edward's hair back, getting it off his face, and leaned down and kissed him gently. Edward responded, his false hand rising and fisting in the sleeve of Alfons’ shirt. Alfons rose up a bit, and Edward turned his face to the side once more. Alfons moved, slowly and Edward's brow furrowed, and Alfons moved again. Out of necessity his pace was agonizingly slow. Edward's throat worked, he made small uncertain sounds and he panted. But he didn't move to shove Alfons away and he didn't tighten up. He was staying calm and relaxed and Alfons nuzzled his ear and cheek with his lips. The increase in pace became inevitable; Alfons himself was shaking with need and Edward still accommodated, looking neither pleased nor repulsed. He once again brought his flesh hand to his lips; balled his fingers and pressed his thumb to his mouth. Alfons laid his hand over Edward's wrist, curled his fingers around it. His other hand stroked over Edward's head once more.
“Alfons,” Edward said, muffled by his own hand. “Alfons...please.”
Alfons closed his eyes for a moment, almost in relief, and picked his pace up again. Edward groaned and pulled on Alfons’ shirt, his hand still buried in it. His flesh knee rose, running up Alfons’ side. Edward gasped and gulped air, shaking beneath the taller man. It was all Alfons could do to stop himself from staying still and just watching him. The play of things over Edward's face, things he'd never seen before; things Edward always kept shuttered. Edward pulled his hand from his mouth then, cried out loudly and lifted his hips just a bit. Alfons bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, because otherwise he was going to become lost and he couldn't afford the distraction. Not when he'd made Edward cry out like that, not when Edward was begging without words. Not when unspoken things shone in golden eyes and it was almost too painful to see. Alfons own need howled, his own desires wailed and demanded. He thrust his head back and his hips forward and knew that it was defining moment. Something he would remember all his days, the unspoken things in the face of the man beneath him. The man who wasn't one of them, the man who trusted him. He also knew that the unspoken things were likely to stay that way, and he could never bring himself to ask for more than Edward would give; for at this moment Edward was giving him everything.
Edward's cries rose in pitch and Alfons heart beat in time to them; the miasma of heat and lust worked their magic on him, and his own cries joined Edward's as he shuddered hard and came harder; bowing his head into Edward's shoulder and Edward clutching him tightly, half sobbing, and Alfons knew heaven.
Even in his heated and lax daze he knew that Edward had not reached his second completion. Alfons levered himself up with one hand, reached between their bodies with the other and gripped Edward's cock. Edward made a strangled wail and it only took a few good strokes and Alfons smiled at the wetness that hit his stomach, and allowed himself to relax again. Edward was panting harshly, soaked and flushed; he cracked his eyes open and regarded the soft blue ones hanging above him.
Edward gave him a sudden half grin and Alfons wrinkled his eyes and smiled.
“Maybe it's not rocket science,” Edward said between pants. “But I think you could learn a thing or two from it.”
“Oh definitely,” Alfons smiled, withdrew slowly and they both grimaced. “I think it's really all about flying.”
“Yeah,” Edward said and licked his lips. “I can see that, all about flying.”
Alfons flopped over beside him, threw an arm across him, and Edward turned his head to look at him. “In a rocket,” Edward grinned, “straight to the moon.”
Alfons hand moved up Edward's body and cupped his cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking gently under Edward's eye. Edward just regarded him with a lazy smile and stretched, his hands going over his head, pointing his toes.
“In a rocket, into another world,” Alfons said with a soft smile and Edward lifted an eyebrow. “I trust when you get home you'll make me famous there. Alfons Heidrich and his amazing world traveling rockets.”
Edward caught Alfons’ hand, pulled it over to his lips and kissing his fingers.
“Of course,” Edward assured him. “Everyone will want one then, so maybe you’ll have to come with me.”
Alfons searched his face then, the smile he usually wore fading for a moment from his lips. Edward wasn't sure what he'd said wrong, but Alfons smile came back again before he could speak.
“Maybe,” Alfons said and scooted over, drawing him close, and just kept on smiling as Edward drifted off to sleep.
Pairing: HeiderichxEd
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Alfons' mind was more in tune with how much thrust per square inch it would take to get 'x' amount of mass off the ground than how to show a potential lover how to kiss.
Spoilers: None unless you do not know who Alfons Heiderich is
Notes: Thanks to kaltia for the beta
Word Count: 10,011
This is the original fic with all Ed's dialogue rewritten to be more Ed and less like Ed was snorting a ground up Jane Austen novel. kaltia and hime199 let me know if Ed is less British Nanny now.
“You shouldn't let yourself become so discouraged, Edward,” Alfons said, setting the bag down on the small table and reaching in to pull out the few things he'd bought to serve as dinner. “I also think you need more sunshine. You're become such a luftmensch - I'm sure it's not healthy.”
Ed pushed his glasses up his nose with the pinky of his flesh hand, surveying the contents of the bag as they were set on the table. His mouth almost watered at the cheese, but if he showed too much interest Alfons would make sure he got the larger portion and would take little for himself. Alfons had a lot of nerve speaking to Ed about his health when he should be worrying about his own.
“Sunlight is overrated, and I've seen enough in my day,” Ed replied. “Are you going to cook eggs ?” he added hopefully. Eggs with cheese sounded very good indeed.
“You’re trying to change the subject,” Alfons said. “Yes , I will cook you eggs. As I was saying, I think perhaps a change in perspective might help the situation. A fresh outlook often brings new revelations,” Alfons moved across the small kitchen where most of the space was occupied by the table, and opened the ice box carefully. It was old and the hinges were weak and they both lived in the fear that the door would fall off one day, and leave them with just a box to set things in to spoil.
“It's easy for you to say,” Ed told him, sitting back in the chair and folding his arms over his chest. “That is, when you're not trying to blow yourself up.”
Alfons chuckled and moved to the stove, pulling a frying pan off the hook behind it. He took the eggs he'd retrieved and set them in a chipped glass bowl so they wouldn't roll away. He then came to the table and collected the cheese and bread and tomato, and took them to the cabinet as well.
Ed began tidying up his academic mess as Alfons cooked dinner. He took the books and pens to the next room and laid them on the small side table beside the sofa. The smell of toast and fried eggs and tomatoes starting to make him very hungry. He was used to lean times, but even at his leanest back home they were never quite like this. Alfons thinness coupled with his bad cough often worried Ed into skipping lunch and lying about it when Alfons asked. It was really him imposing on Alfons' good nature in the first place, so it wasn't a lie he was ashamed of; Alfons needed lunch more than he did.
“Come on Edward, it'll get cold,” Alfons called from the kitchen; Ed grinned and came back in. Alfons set down a plate for him on the table, and fetched a glass to get him some water. (Since no amount of convincing could get him to drink milk, he tried instead to shove as much cheese down Edward's throat as he could. No logical argument could ever convince his friend that if he liked cheese, he might also like milk.).
For the most part dinner was eaten in silence. They were both tired from the day, and too hungry to want to waste energy on small talk at the table. Edward did the dishes because Alfons did the cooking, and that evening found them both in the smaller room that had been allocated to be the 'living' room - when in honesty they did more living in the kitchen, for the table top space and the food.
They sat side by side on the couch under the window, and had both lamps lit to fight the approaching gloom. Alfons was idling over a book about combustion while Edward was writing copious notes of dubious nature; and even though he tried to make them seem like nothing, whenever Alfons' eyes strayed towards them, Edward seemed to need to turn away and move the notes with him. In their acquaintance Alfons had become used to many of Edward's mysterious habits: the way he always wore gloves to hide his false hand (which in itself was an amazing feat of engineering, but no amount of subtle questioning could get Edward to be forthright about its manufacturer. Edward had many spares in his room, crated upright in boxes. Sometimes at night Alfons would walk by the door and suppress the willies at the sight of a boxful of hands reaching toward the ceiling in supplication), the way he seldom spoke of anything that had happened before the yesterday, or the way he would spend a lot of quiet time just looking out the window toward the sky. As if somehow he could pierce the gaze of the gas streetlamps and find his answers among the stars.
The stars were one thing the two of them held in common. Not only for the symbolism of what they both seemed to want, but for the simple beauty and depth of the night sky. During warmer days they would sometimes make the journey just outside the city and sit on the hood of Ed's battered car, and talk about those mysterious gasous balls of light. It was always in scientific terms, about the spatial distances, the composition, the speculation of why they shone so brightly. But often, time after time, they would both merely watch them and dream. It was during these forays into the dusk around Munich that Alfons would have a small dream of his own that he couldn't quite share with Edward.
It may have to do with the way Edward's ponytail would trail down his back when he was looking up, or the line of his throat, or the wonder clouded by sadness in his eyes. Sometimes when Ed was intent on the sky above him and Alfons was sitting on his right side, he would rest his fingers, lightly, against the side of Edward's false hand. Edward never seemed to notice, (or if he did, he didn’t mention it), and in this way Alfons made just a bit of his private dream a reality. But such things were in general, best left unsaid and undone. For on one hand he did not know was if Edward had reservations or objections to certain views, and on the other he was too much of a coward to find out.
But sitting side by side on the couch with Alfons sitting to Edward right made the blond's hand a temptation. Edward was resting it between the two of them at the moment, rereading his own notes (Alfons was sure Edward often looked confused by them, and from Edward's penmanship he wasn't surprised), and sucking on his bottom lip. He really shouldn’t suck on his bottom lip in such a manner. It made him look younger and it made Alfons bolder, and neither was a good thing, really. Alfons seemed surprised when his fingers brushed the smooth and cool surface of the hand-shaped object between them. He slowly hooked his pinky over its false counterpart and tried to keep watch through his peripheral vision, should Edward look down or look like he might want to raise his hand.
When after a bit nothing happened, Alfons let himself be pulled back into his text and quite honestly forgot what he was doing until his hand was lifted into the air. He turned his head quickly, and met Edward's bemused eyes as he held their hands aloft, entwined each by their pinky fingers. Alfons took the opportunity to use his best baffled expression, and gave his hand a little tug, pulling his pinky free. Edward really didn't say anything more about it, but watched Alfons resettle his wandering hand into his own lap before glancing back at his notes.
It almost seemed that Edward was sorry to have disturbed the contact, by the way his eyes had lingered on Alfons hand once he'd moved it, and that is perhaps what moved Alfons to speak.
“Are you lonely, Edward?” Alfons asked, fingering the bottom of his text a bit, because sometimes personal questions could make Edward brood for days.
“Lonely?” Edward said, turning his head and looking a bit surprised. “You geek, I suppose having you for company doesn't count?” Edward gave a half smile, but there was something untold in his expression.
“You’re going to think me mad,” Alfons said, “But now that I've actually come out and said it, I don't see why I shouldn't say the rest. I sometimes get the impression that when you’re looking at me, you aren't seeing me. It's almost as if you are looking for something else, and you have this expression in your eyes. I feel rather helpless at those times and I'm not sure what to say, and so I say nothing. You never talk about your home or your family, when I know I have bored you to tears with mine. I always wonder what you are looking for, and how you lost it. It makes me want to reach out to you in a way, to make you feel...well... more at home here. It may not be where you want to be, but it is where you are now. I don't like seeing you upset yourself so much over things that you can't see. I'd rather you live here while you are here, even if you go elsewhere later,” Alfons shook his head. “I'm sorry, maybe I'm being a bit forward.”
“No, I'm sorry,” Edward said quietly, and Alfons felt a small start of surprise. “When I first met you, I thought I saw something that I had lost, and that's not fair, to either of us, but now that I know you, I realize that...” Edward stopped, closed his notes and set them aside. He half turned on the couch to better face Alfons and Alfons did the same, closing his own text and turning toward Edward.
“It's really you who are going to think I'm insane,” Edward said. “There is something I want to tell you. I feel I can trust you. Even if you don't believe me when I'm through, I don't think you will judge me for it.”
For what seemed like hours afterwards, Alfons sat in rapt attention to Edward's every word, and found his horizons broadened as never before.
***
“See?” Edward said as he drew his tale to a close, “we're both commitable.”
Alfons wasn't sure what he was supposed to say at that point. He knew the appropriate words, but did he actually believe them? More importantly, did he believe Edward? The smaller man gave him an anxious look, and then turned his eyes away. He seemed to be, once again, drawing himself into his inner turmoil, trying to smooth his features as if to laugh it off and tell Alfons it was all just fancy. But Edward could never properly mask his eyes; they were his most striking and telling feature.
“Thank you for telling me,” Alfons said. His own life was fancy, his own mortality as well, and if he couldn't believe the dreams of another, then what were his own dreams? “I believe you.”
Edward's eyes darted to him then, his eyebrows raising; a smile threatened his lips, but he tried to withdraw into himself again. He was always swimming in doubt, Alfons realized, even when he craved acceptance.
“You don’t need to humor me Alfons,” Edward mumbled. “I know I sound off my fucking nut.” He gave a small, bitter laugh.
Alfons leaned across the space between them then, planting his hands on the couch and raising himself almost nose to nose with Edward. The other man's eyebrows climbed considerably higher, and his eyes widened. Alfons arranged his face into a scowl, his own eyebrows dipping down in the center.
“I am offended,” Alfons informed Edward, and Edward's throat worked as he started to speak - but Alfons cut him off. “If you make so light of my acceptance, why tell me the story in the first place? Perhaps you wanted to test my gullibility?”
“N..no,” Edward stuttered. “It's not like that Alfons, I didn't mean...”
“So you tell me you trust me and then tell me about your life,” Alfons said, “and you have so little faith in me to think I don’t' believe you?”
Edward seemed to be wilting in on himself and fumbling for the right words to say. Alfons was so sure he could read Edward by his eyes that he didn't look elsewhere, and he suddenly saw something else, a new fear - a fear of Alfons himself, it seemed. That was interesting and alarming, and perhaps he was being too hard on Edward.
“I'm sorry, I'm not making fun of you!” Edward said. “It's just so fucking unbelieveable, I'd have a hard time believing it if I were you,” he rushed. “I'm not out to make you mad at me Alfons, ok? Just let me be sorry about this and forget it.”
He's afraid he will lose me, too.
Unbidden, that thought stirred Alfons’ other hope. He bunched his fingers into the cushioning of the couch and didn't move, didn't draw back.
“Apology accepted,” Alfons said. “Do you know how I can make you feel more at ease here? How I can make this more like home?”
Edward seemed to give a guilty start and then sighed.
“I 'll just try to live here and now, like you want,” Edward said. “It's just hard sometimes, you know?. But having someone who knows helps. You're a lot nicer to me than you should be sometimes.”
Alfons swallowed.
I shouldn't, it will seem like I'm taking advantage.
He watched Edward's gaze travel for a moment to his lips before darting aside again.
He has shown me how to be brave in these matters of uncertainty. He has shown me how to speak what I want to say.
“Edward, there is something I want to ask you, but I find I don't have the right words,” Alfons said.
Edward lifted his eyes again, parted his mouth as if to ask his own question, and Alfons leaned forward and pressed his mouth over Edward's. Edward started and jerked and stiffened for a long moment, but he didn't pull back, nor push Alfons away. In fact, Alfons felt a tremor in his lips, and was sure it had traveled down the smaller man's body. When Alfons pulled back Edward stared at him for a long moment, then pushed himself up and off the couch and retreated without a word to his room, shutting the door behind him.
Alfons let his head fall to the back of the couch and wondered if he hadn't just messed up the best thing to come his way in years.
***
It was an empty house Alfons woke up to - not that he had slept in it that long. But long enough, it seemed, for Edward to sneak out in the morning hours. The kitchen was cold and empty; no residual heat from the stove, the counter just as it was the night before. Edward hadn't eaten again, and Alfons ran his hand over his face in aggravation. What was he going to do now? Going out and chasing Edward all over the city was hardly an option. Edward was far too easy prey anyway since he was probably at the library, which was more his home than this apartment. Even if he did confront Edward, then what?
He would apologize, of course. He would tell Edward that it was all just fancy and perhaps the emotion of the moment...and he would do just as Edward did to him last night. He would bare his soul and then try to take it back. Edward would be no more appreciative than he was, and they would be back to square one and all of this for nothing.
It was more aggravating in the long run that Edward had chosen to flee the situation. He would have to come back tonight. He would come back tonight. He better come back tonight, or Alfons would have to scour the city. Edward was truly a lost soul, and he had nowhere else to go. Alfons would make it right again, at whatever expense was necessary. He would not be responsible for Edward losing his home again (as much as he could ever really consider this place home), that he didn't think he could stand it.
He left the house only once - because while Edward was good about going without food all day, he should at least have something a little hardier than eggs for supper - and came home and cooked dinner at the appropriate time. But there was no Edward. At first he merely paced the rooms, and tried to look through one of his texts. It wasn't unusual for Edward to be late for supper on occasion. He found himself lingering near the large picture window that over looked the street from their apartments. When the gas lights were lit for the coming gloom, he decided he would have to take a walking tour of the city and went to get his jacket. It was then the front door opened and closed quietly and the uneven gate sounded in the hall. Alfons causally leaned out of the doorway to his room, and came face to face with the object of his evening’s worry , and they regarded each other in silence for a few moments.
“I'm sor...” Alfons started, but he wasn’t, really, and so he shut his mouth. Edward rolled his shoulders and looked to the side.
“You're late to dinner,” Alfons said. “I've got yours covered on the stove, I can heat it up for you.”
“Sorry to be a bother,” Edward mumbled. “I was the one late, I can do it.”
“You're not a bother, cooking dinner is my job,” Alfons said, tossing his coat back into his room and on his bed. He undid his cuffs as he came into the hall and folded them back over his sleeve.
“Alfons,” Edward said and the young man stopped and looked at him. “Sorry about last night, about this morning, about just leaving without saying anything.” He gave a shrug and jammed his hands into his pockets.
“Don't be sorry Edward,” Alfons said . “There are things that people do that perhaps they shouldn't, and you have a right to agree or disagree as you chose. I wouldn't ever hold that against you, my friend.”
“I just don't...I mean...No one has ever done that before, like on the lips. No one has ever wanted to do it before, so I don't know how to act,” Edward confessed. “I didn't think anyone would want to do that sort of thing with a half machine freak, you know?” He laughed a little, trying to make light of it while his cheeks blazed. Alfons made a sound of disbelief.
“What do you mean? You've never had anyone who was interested?” Alfons asked incredulously. “I find that hard to believe.”
Edward colored up even further.
“It's not like I had time for that sort of thing anyways,” he said with a wave of his hand, as if he could somehow make the conversation dissapate like smoke. “I had my brother to worry about and other shit that got in the way. And you know, like I said, people don't actually look at people who are missing parts, no matter how shiny the replacements are.”
“I think you are self delusional,” Alfons said. “For what reason, I'm sure I don't know, but knowing you as I do, you are right. Only, I think you were too consumed in your quest to notice the regards around you. Edward, how could anyone not want you?”
Edward gave a physical start and his cheeks were now high scarlet.
“I'm sure it's all that rocket fuel that's eating through your brain,” the shorter blond said.
Alfons rolled his eyes and shook his head, and went to move past Edward.
“I'll get your dinner,” the taller blond said.
“Wait,” Edward exclaimed and grabbed Alfons' sleeve. and Alfons could have no more moved past him then than been able to stop breathing.
“All that stuff you said about being here, about trying to make it a home...,” Edward's voice carried to him, but Edward's eyes were on the floor. “When you...when you kissed me,” Edward's voice dropped to an embarrased mumble, “It didn't seem...I mean, it wasn't like I was by myself here. It made it better...maybe.”
Alfons turned slowly and Edward's hand dropped away. Alfons moved his hands to Edward's shoulders, and tipped his head down; Edward finally looked up and closed his eyes as Alfons lips met his again. It was slow and questioning and when Edward parted his lips, just a little of Alfons’ touch became more seeking. One of Alfons' hands left his shoulder and rested lightly against his cheek. When the taller man pulled back, he stopped to kiss Edward's forehead, and the hand on his cheek moved up, the fingers combing through Edward's heavy bangs, he smiled.
“I'm glad,” Alfons said, “Come to dinner and we can talk some more after you've eaten. I know you skipped breakfast as well as lunch, and didn't have money enough to get anything decent. I cheated our research budget a little and got some sausages.”
Edward followed him willingly into the kitchen.
***
After dinner found them in the living room once again, but it was a very different atmosphere from the night before. They were both on the couch, side by side. Edward was sitting up straight instead of his usual comfortable slouch, and he had his hands fisted and resting on his knees. Alfons was also sitting up straight and wondering what he should do, to make Edward more comfortable with the situation. In the hallway Edward had proven he was willing to be kissed, and from his timid lip movements he seemed willing to learn to kiss, but how to go about it, exactly? Alfons' mind was more in tune with how much thrust per square inch it would take to get 'x' amount of mass off the ground than how to show a potential lover how to kiss. He squirmed a little at the word thrust when it played across his mind, and told himself in no uncertain terms he needed to slow down. Edward was doing the perfect imitation of a rabbit at the moment, looking for a place to bolt, and any aggressive moves just might send him fleeing for the safety of the crawlspace under his bed.
But then again Alfons had underestimated Edward before. (He could indeed climb very well with those artificial limbs, and never mind Alfons' own near heart attack when he saw just how high).
“Ok, so,” Edward said and straightened his shoulders. Edward tackled potential problems head on, like a blond bull; it shouldn't surprise Alfons that Edward saw this as just another obstacle to overcome. “I think I have the kissing part down.” He shot a glare at Alfons when the taller man dared to chuckle. Alfons thinned his lips and rolled his eyes to the side innocently, and Edward glared harder.
“What? You don't think I do?” Edward snarled. “It's not like it seems all that hard, all you did was mash your mouth on mine and move it around a little. How hard can it be?”
“I beg to differ, Edward,” Alfons said. “As it is with all situations, that is but one variable.” He smiled and leaned toward Edward. “Allow me to demonstrate?”
“Might as well, you've already had your lips all over me once,” Edward closed his eyes and slightly puckered his lips and waited. Alfons made several unseen facial contortions in his attempt not to laugh, because laughing at this critical point could be bad. Edward was also famous for his temper should he feel he'd been slighted, and that was the last thing Alfons wanted to deal with. Alfons leaned over and gave Edward a peck on his puckered lips and Edward's eyes fluttered open; his brow quirked up, and he searched Alfons' eyes for a moment.
“What was that?” Edward demanded, for it had been nothing like the one in the hall that had made his insides melt and run into his toes.
“A kiss, one of many different types,” Alfons informed him. “Since you saw fit to pucker up for me, I only returned the favor.”
At this Edward seemed to flounder, and Alfons felt some satisfaction that Edward was obviously expecting something more like what he'd had before, and yet didn't know how to go about asking for it. It seemed a little unfair to Alfons to withhold such knowledge, so he kindly caught Edward's chin and tilted his face up, covering his mouth again. This time he indulged himself a little with a bit of tongue over Edward's lovely lower lip, and Edward leaned toward him; Alfons released his chin and ran his hand up the side of Edward's face into his hair. Here they sat on the couch a little way away from each other, leaning into each other and kissing rather passionately. Alfons decided he'd like to be a bit closer at approximately the same time Edward did, and the result was that they both tried to occupy the empty space between them at the same time. It startled them enough that they pulled apart and looked at each other quizzically for a moment, then they both grinned. Once they'd renegotiated territory, they leaned into each other again, (this time it was not so much of a stretch) and Alfons began to instruct in the use of the tongue as a means of heightening the pleasure of a kiss. Edward seemed to shy from it a bit at first, but he soon warmed to it. He warmed enough that his hand rose, and his fingers dug into the sleeve of the arm Alfons was using to hold Edward's head steady by splaying the fingers of his hand over the back of Edward's head.
When Alfons pulled away this time Edward was flushed, and his lips moved a little, like he might have wanted to say something but couldn't draw the breath. Alfons lowered his head further then, tilted it to the side; laid his lips on the side of Edward's neck and Edward made a small surprised sound, followed by a deeper lush sound when Alfons used his lips to trace his neck up to his ear.
“Edward,” Alfons said, a whisper quiet in the ear he had so recently conquered. “Do you think perhaps you are ready to move beyond simple kissing?”
Edward nodded mutely and Alfons released him, stood and Edward looked up at him with a dazed sort of expression, then trailing his eyes back down at the place on the couch Alfons had just abandoned in a bit of confusion. Alfons merely held his hand out and Edward's gaze look went to it, realization dawning; he took the offered hand and rose to his feet. Alfons smiled at him and gave him a small tug to get him going, and together they went into the hall. There Alfons had a slight bout of indecision. His own bed was comfortable and large enough; Edward's bed was not nearly so large. But Edward might be more comfortable in his own room, and Alfons’ mind immediately went to the crates of limbs that he found so disquieting otherwise. So he opened his door and stepped inside, looking back at Edward, with whom his fingers were still tangled.
Edward stepped in behind him and Alfons released his hand; shut the door while Edward rubbed his artificial arm with his flesh hand, his eyes darting around Alfons’ bedroom like he'd never seen it before. Alfons moved to pick his jacket up off the bed and tossed it instead on the dresser; he then turned back to Edward who had watched the motion, but Edward's own eyes went back to Alfons when he'd turned around. Alfons walked back over, reached up slowly and brushed back the heavy bangs on the left side of Edward's face.
“Is this alright?” Alfons said. “Here in my room, or would you be more comfortable...?”
“Uh, it's fine,” Edward said. “Your bed is bigger, I mean, whatever you want...” Edward snapped his mouth shut.
It was amazingly endearing that his friend, the tenacious blond bull, then human cyclone; ravager of books, defender of the slight of stature and beergarten terror should be blushing and acting so shy. Alfons nodded once and reached up; shrugged his suspenders off his shoulders, letting them drop to hang at his hips. Edward hesitated a moment and then followed suit; his vest missed the dresser, however, and landed up on the floor. They both looked at it for a moment, then Alfons shrugged and started on his shirt buttons. He got his shirt open before Edward even had his collar properly undone, so he moved to help, starting lower. Together they worked the buttons open, until they met somewhere in the middle. All movement stilled for a few moments after that, and they both stared at each other's bared chest. Alfons was smooth, a bit thin and pale; Edward was darker, a bit broader and had some very fine blond down just in the center. There was a scar that ran from his right shoulder down toward the middle of his chest, but stopped before the first pectoral. There was also the leather harness that held his prosthetic in place. Edward fingered the edges of his opened shirt and looked to the side, as if ashamed of his appearance. Alfons lifted his left hand, fingers splaying, lying on Edward's cheek and along his neck. He leaned down and pressed his lips just above Edward's upper lip, his right hand moving up to grip Ed's shirt from his Edward's own fingers and push it back. Edward tilted his face up slightly; his left hand then dug into Alfons' shirt, the fingers tightening in the fabric, pulling it down, stretching it from Alfons' shoulder.
I will show you that these marks are just proof of your existence and they mean nothing more than what they are. I will make you see that you are beautiful.
Alfons' lips traveled over his cheek, down the right side of his neck and to his right shoulder. Alfons kissed what remained of the flesh there and then boldly onto the false joint, and Edward buried his face against Alfons own shoulder - Alfons heard him swallow audibly. Alfons lifted his face then, released Edward's half discarded shirt and ran his hand inside it, down the bare flesh of Edward's side, and Edward ground his forehead against Alfons' shoulder, his false hand moving up and coming against Alfons' chest. Alfons walked him then, slowly and backwards toward the bed, and Edward laid back with no resistance, looking up at the man hovering over him with an expression of both trepidation and wonder.
Alfons could no more help his need to touch Edward than his own heart’s beating and he moved then, with lips and hands. Over Edward's chest, his throat and shoulders, his lips again with Edward's moans became almost too much to bear. Edward tried to respond in kind, but it seemed for all intent and purpose he was too overwhelmed by these new sensations, and he even lifted his body at times to press to Alfons's touch. It was a heady and intoxicating revelation that Edward knew want, and Alfons felt not a little awe that it was he who would be giving Edward these first experiences of carnal pleasure. Edward seemed to have so little pleasure in his life, and his poor body was evidence of his past pains. So Alfons would not only show Edward's soul, but his flesh that pleasure was something to be cherished. When finally Alfons' lips left the already conquered territory and trailed down Edward's stomach, he felt the first real trembling in the smaller man's frame. His fingers deftly unbuckled Edward's belt, plucked open the buttons of Edward's trousers, and then trailed lightly across the waistband of Edward's linen boxers.
He glanced up to notice Edward had covered his face with his hands; Alfons moved back up his body, then, gently tugging on a wrist and exposing one side of Edward's face for light kisses. He then had the desire to see all of that thick bright golden hair unbound, so he lifted Edward's head, tucked his face against Alfons’ throat and worked the hair tie loose. Alfons’ fingers stilled for a moment when the felt the minute working of Edward's lips against his throat, in a slow halting imitation of Alfons' own mouth working Edward's throat earlier.
When the hair fell free Alfons took a moment to drag his fingers through it, and enjoy Edward's increasingly confident kissing and sucking of his neck. Edward ran his hands slowly up Alfons' sides, curled them over his shoulders and Alfons rewarded him by pressing them, chest to chest; pushing Edward into the mattress, letting him feel the contact and the weight. Their bare stomachs touched, their clothed groins touched and Alfons both shuddered and smiled at the return of his sentiment, by means of the hardness Edward pressed against his own.
Edward pulled his mouth free and groaned in Alfons’ ear, and Alfons gave a breathless noise in return. Alfons’ hand skated back down Edward's side; Edward raised his flesh knee and put his heel on the bed, tilting his hips up, as if seeking firmer contact. Alfons slid his hand around to Edward's back and down to his butt and pulled up as he pressed down; Edward shuddered and searched his eyes, and wet his lips.
They stayed like that, silent and gazing at each other until Alfons could stand the inactivity of it no longer. He lifted himself silently and steeled himself against Edward's soft wordless protest. Alfons resumed his former track with his lips; over Edward's stomach, down to where white linen lay just below his navel. Alfons hooked his fingers just under the waistband of Edward's trousers, pushing himself completely off Edward for a moment to push them down, kneeling to relieve Edward of his shoes, (but left him his socks). The trousers followed along with the shoes, and there was no real attempt made to make sure that they landed on the dresser. Alfons undid his own belt when he stood back up, and unbuttoned his own trousers. Edward was watching him with slightly widened eyes, and Alfons only smiled reassuringly.
When Alfons leaned over and put his fingers inside the waistband of Edward's boxers, Edward seemed to tense up all over. Alfons raised his eyes to golden ones and Edward gave him a frank look and dropped his head back.
“Should I wait?” Alfons asked.
“What are you asking me for? I don't know!” Ed returned. “Should you?”
“No, I'm asking you,” Alfons said. “Would you like me to leave them on for now?”
“You know I've never done this before,” Ed mumbled, eyes darting to the side. “Dont' ask me this shit, it's embarrassing.”
The side of Alfons mouth quirked up, and Edward's eyes darted back to him, going a bit dark.
“You're trying to analyze this? Give it a time table?” Alfons couldn't help his sudden grin.
Edward scowled and shifted and snorted, becoming very Edward-like in those moments. “Gah! Stop it, you know I hate not knowing,” Edward said by way of defense.
“Should I stop and let you get your notebook so you can make notes?” Alfons teased.
“Asshole,” Edward griped at him. “I hate coming off as an idiot that doesn't know what he's doing even if he doesn't know what he's doing! This bites,” he squirmed a bit.
“Edward, this isn't rocket science,” Alfons said, lifting a brow.
For a few heart beats they did no more than look at each other, then Edward broke first and howled with laughter. Alfons followed him soon after and they both ended up panting slightly; Alfons leaned down and kissed him hungrily, because Edward's smiling lips and eyes were something indeed to be cherished. The kiss evolved from that, and Edward tried gamely to respond and gagged just a bit on Alfons’ tongue; he went still as Alfons tried to keep him busy with the kiss, and at the same time relieve him of his boxers.
Alfons’ hands on his bare hips made him tremble and jump a bit. Alfons' warm lips on the divit of his throat made him tilt his head back. The slide of Alfons' lips from the divit to his navel made his stomach muscles tense and the touch of the tip of Alfons’ nose against his very evident erection made his vision swim.
***
Here was something he'd never had before. A touch he'd never known, never thought to know. A touch in a place no one had ever touched him but himself, and he was unprepared for the...electricity. The current that ran from that gentle touch through the rest of his body and nerves. It was just a touch, nothing more. But he could feel it, every last part of his body contracted to the point where just the tip of a nose laid against him was enough. It was almost too much to believe. He was almost too aroused to think, and then there was another touch, something he almost thought to be impossible. Alfons’ lips, on the very tip of all that heat and sensation between his legs; right on the very tip, nowhere else, and - was that Alfons’ tongue? Edward gasped out as his cock was moved slightly, as the head of his erection was pushed against his lower stomach by wet warmth. Then he felt Alfons' hand on his hip, kneading, and his other hand brushed the inside of Ed's thighs and moved upwards; Ed shuddered all over and then a large warm palm cupped his balls, a thumb pressing them slightly and rolling them back and forth gently.
There was no analyzing this, there was not tracking or mapping or studying this. The only guide he had was the feeling in his stomach and in his groin, and his own moans were the only words that would ever be spoken with any coherency in this event. He lifted his hips and he thought he heard Alfons chuckle but he didn't care; all he knew was want. He wanted more of this; he almost felt he could abandon the need for thought in this - he wanted this freedom, this pleasure, this escape. When Alfons’ lips closed over the head of his cock Ed's eyes flew open wide, and he stared at the ceiling and just for a moment thought he saw stars.
***
The sounds Edward made as Alfons took his cock into his throat cleared from Alfons mind any remote trace of doubt that still lingered, from when he'd begun this slow seduction. Edward's hips would not be stilled, and Alfons found he didn't care. He moved with the smaller man, letting him buck and writhe and cry out. Took his sweat and his scent into his memory and moved his mouth to illicit more cries and more thrashing. Edward did not disappoint him. The more Edward demanded, the harder Alfons worked. Yes, give Edward this abandon, this moment to just be, not to think, not to know, to just have this tactile sense overwhelm everything else. To give in, that is what Alfons wanted most for Edward, to just give in and let go of his control, if even for a little while. To breath the air as a free man, and turn his back on the world.
Here in this bed, to just be Edward and not someone's brother, someone's enemy, someone's underling. To be someone's lover, and to be loved. That is what Edward needed. He knew that other people loved Edward, and for a moment it was a jealous and unpleasant feeling, but he could shrug it off; because here Edward was his and his alone. He was an orphan in every since of the word, without family or friends or even his own culture. It was selfish, perhaps, but Alfons wanted to be the center of his world, while he could, before Edward found his way home. For surely he would, because whatever Edward desired would be his. Either by his own hand or by Alfons’.
When Edward came, Alfons still held him for a while, until he was sure Edward was completely spent. He released him slowly, kissed over the shuddering blond's stomach and moved up to lie beside him.
***
He blinked his eyes rapidly and panted hard. He fought the stinging and rising wetness and when Alfons moved to lie beside him he turned and buried his face against his chest. Alfons open shirt fluttered down over his cheek and hid him most effectively, while Alfons himself simply stroked through his unbound hair and sighed. It wasn't long before Edward spoke.
“That was a very singular experience, don't get me wrong,” he said, still slightly breathless and muffled as his face was pressed against Alfons' chest. “I'm not saying that like it's a bad thing. It's just...well it's not like anything I've ever done before, or that's been done to me before, or whatever.”
“Back to rocket science,” Alfons said. “Can't you just say if you enjoyed it or not? Why must everything thing be such a struggle with you?”
Edward pulled back then, frowned into Alfons' face and seemed to become rather aware of his nudity below the waist. He groped around, managing to snag the sheet and pull it over himself, before regarding Alfons again.
“Do you feel the need to deny it now?” Alfons questioned, feeling his heart start to sink.
Edward looked puzzled then looked flushed. “You still have your pants on,” he said.
Alfons merely shrugged and moved then, rolling onto his back, and wiggling his pants and boxers down to his knees, toeing off his shoes and then kicking them off into the floor.
“I forget,” Alfons said. “Your sense of fairness is all out of proportion.”
“What's that suppose to mean?” Ed growled, but didn't put up much of an fight when Alfons tugged the sheet away.
“It means,” Alfons said, moving back over Edward, settling down between his legs and watching Edward try to adapt to his new and very intimate position, “That sometimes you get the raw end of the deal. Honestly Edward, you think that everyone else plays by your rules, and get upset when you realize they don't. I'm not sure someone can be too moralistic...but you do test the boundaries. At times I find you a bit unbelievable; if I didn't know your sincerity for what it actually is, if there is such a thing as being too good, then I think you would be the first in line to receive the title.”
To this entire speech Edward only added: “You're still hard,” at the end, and had the audacity to blush.
“Edward, you're enough to make a priest curse, and that would take some doing,” Alfons informed him wryly.
“I just want to...give as good as I get,” Edward said, looking anywhere but at Alfons face. “You're the one harping on the fact I'm so fair.”
“So I am,” Alfons said, “so I should take my medicine.” He moved then, a slow grind of his naked hips against Edward's naked hips. His erection slid against Edward's and Edward swallowed and gave him quick anxious darts of his eyes to Alfons face. Finally Alfons captured his chin in his hand again and kissed him, as he thrust against him and let Edward become familiar with the sensation. It wasn't all that long until Edward's erection reawakened enough to be evident against Alfons' lower belly each time Alfons thrust.
***
They were both quite heated when Alfons suddenly pushed up on his hands and looked around in a half daze. In his eagerness to love Edward, he'd forgotten a basic necessity of coupling.
“What are we going to use for lubricant?” Alfons asked breathlessly.
“Lubricant?” Edward echoed in confused, heated tones beneath him and then boldly ran his hands under Alfons' shirt tail and gripped his naked ass, pulled on it.
Alfons lost all higher brain functions for the moment, and thought, in this dream like state, that Edward was asking him for lubricant and had somehow read his mind. But it was too delicious here and he didn't want to leave, and Edward obviously didn't want him to leave by the way he was pulling on his ass and raising his own hips to meet each pull. There was nothing more perfect on this earth, Alfons thought on the height of euphoria, than an aroused Edward Elric. The desire to know him intimately, inside and out, might be enough to take all common sense Alfons possessed, but in the end the sole corner of rational thought in his besieged mind prevailed. They needed lube.
He tried to push himself off and Edward made a sound almost like a wail and clung harder; he even went so far as to wrap his legs over the back of Alfons'.
“Let go, Edward,” Alfons said raggedly. “I have to get something and I'll come right back, I promise.”
“What the fuck is it you need to get?” Edward replied in husky way. “Why do you want to leave now?”
Now, when there was all this heat and sweat and musk and passion.
Alfons managed to pry the false leg free and staggered back, throwing a hand out on the wall to catch himself. Edward pushed up on his elbows, his hair in his face and over his shoulders and his lips parted and swollen from Alfons attentions, his lower body very visibly agitated from the same attentions. He gave Alfons a funny, desperate look, and Alfons willed himself not to run back over and flop back on top of him, no matter what Edward's eyes were pleading for.
“I'll be right back,” Alfons got out, almost slamming himself in the nose getting the door open and stumbling out in the hall; behind him he heard Edward make an aggravated sound of disbelief. Alfons staggered down the hall and into the kitchen, his body so sensitive that his own shirt tails brushing lightly against his bare thighs and ass were almost enough to distract him yet again. He cast about in the cabinets desperately and then leaned against the counter, trying hard to think, but it wasn't easy. He heard Edward call his name once, from down the hall.
He turned then, jerked open the ice box, (broken door be damned) and reached in barehanded, grabbing the remnants of a block of lard. There would be no fried cabbage or tomatoes until it was replaced, but some sacrifices were worth it. He hurried back down the hall and burst into the bedroom and Edward's wild eyed look; came over to the bed and Edward struck like a cobra, grabbing Alfons' shirt and jerking on it. Alfons overbalanced and toppled forward, holding the hand with the lard above his head in a desperate move to save it. His knee came very close to catching Edward in a very sensitive area and they both stopped and stared down at it wide eyed for a moment, before realizing all was still well.
With a lot of grunting and half wrestling Alfons managed to subdue Edward one handed and panted in his face.
“Edward, leave off a moment,” he said. “Do you know what we are doing?”
The question seemed to stun Edward into stillness; he gave Alfons a befuddled look and Alfons could see him working it over in his mind, like it was some trick question.
“Having sex?” Edward finally ventured.
“Yes,” Alfons encouraged, “That’s right. Do you know why I have this hand full of lard?”
“No,” Edward said slowly. “Why the fuck should I? Come on Alfons, get on with it” he panted, eyeing the contents of Alfons hand a bit dubiously. Alfons would have laughed at the look on his face if he still had the brain capacity to do so.
“It's for lubricant,” Alfons said, “because we have no oil. I wish to make love to you in a more carnal sense.” He was rather impressed he could be this lucid.
Edward struggled with the sentence for a long moment before some comprehension dawned on his visage, and he nodded slowly and glanced at the lard squeezing between Alfons fingers.
“So you understand my meaning?” Alfons said and hoped and prayed he wouldn't have to elaborate.
“Yes,” Edward said in a half exasperated way, “it's not like it's damn rocket science.”
There was a bit of giggling involved then, and Alfons was able to get up on his knees between Edward's spread legs and look down at him. Edward licked his lips, (that could just be the lard, Alfons thought, Ed also had a disproportinate fondness of fried foods that went along with his views on fairplay), and looked again to Alfons for guidance.
Alfons wasn't exactly worldly in this aspect. He had been a participant once, long ago, but on the end Edward was on now, and he struggled to recall his own experience but on the end of a ‘giver’ rather than a ‘receiver’. He transferred hands with the lard and scooted up a bit on his knees, and Edward obligingly bent his own knees and put his feet flat on the bed.
“I'll try to be as gentle as I can,” Alfons said. “It's your first time, so I don't expect you to appreciate this in the beginning, please bear with me.”
“Less talk, more do,” Edward grunted and flopped his head back to the mattress, regarding the ceiling.
Alfons spent a little time rubbing the lard between his fingers to get it softened, and then reached down slowly and laid his fingers on the cleft of Edward's butt. Edward shifted just a bit and Alfons tried to work out better logistics, Edward wasn't being readily accessible this way.
“Hook your knees over my shoulders,” he told him and Edward raised his head and gave him a raised eyebrow in response; but he lifted his legs, and Alfons leaned forward a bit so Edward could settle them over Alfons shoulders. That was much better, because now Edward's hips were angled up and Alfons could see what he was doing. Alfons spend a moment trailing his finger lightly back and forth over the tight ring of muscle, and letting Edward squirm a bit and grip the sheets. Alfons remembered he quite liked the sensation himself and it helped relax him a bit before the initial penetration. After a bit Edward started a low whine and Alfons took this as a good sign and slowly eased his finger in, stopping at the knuckle and waiting. Edward was taking in deep breaths and releasing them slowly; he turned his head to the side, his blond mane falling across his face, half obscuring it while Alfons pressed again, sinking his finger until it could go no further.
It was hot and tight and good. Edward lifted his flesh hand slowly, curling the fingers and pressing them to his lips; he tightened up just a bit and Alfons hissed softly at him.
“Stay relaxed,” Alfons told him. “You have to stay relaxed or it will hurt.”
Alfons own first lover recited it like almost a mantra at the time Alfons had been the one on his back, watching another’s face with uncertainty.
Edward nodded and took another deep breath; Alfons felt the tightness ease and nodded, satisfied. He began to move another finger into Edward and Edward whipped his head in the other direction, flesh hand dropping to pull at the sheets again. He was such beauty, with his tightly shut eyes; he was sucking on his bottom lip, his chest was moving with each deep breath he took. Alfons faltered for a moment, entranced with watching Edward and not what he was actually doing. Edward's brow wrinkled and his mouth pulled down in a frown, and he gave a low grunt; Alfons broke his trance and tried instead to concentrate on what he should do next. He knew logically that he had to 'stretch' Edward, so he scissored his fingers a bit and Edward grunted, his brows drawing down.
Alfons began to move his fingers slowly, back and forth, drawing them out a bit and moving them back in, and Edward's face screwed up and he tossed his head again, not looking overly enthusiastic about the whole thing. If only Alfons could find the right spot - the last thing he wanted was to have Edward dreading what was coming next. He worried about it, biting his own bottom lip a bit, and tried moving his fingers again when suddenly Edward gave a wild little gasp and his eyes opened. Alfons smiled and stroked over that spot again and Edward arched his head back and sobbed.
***
Slicking ones self up with lard had to be the oddest thing Alfons had ever experienced. In his previous encounter they had used oil and Alfons remembered that he'd [liked] the way it glistened on his stomach, and on the skin of the man above him. But the lard was a bit yellow and while it was sufficiently slick, it was more greasy than oily. It made Alfons' hand slip on Edward's false leg when he went to grip it behind the knee, and he tried wiping his hand on the sheet to get some of the excess off. Edward watched with a slightly bemused expression and Alfons smiled at him, then gripped him behind his false knee again and scooted up closer, folding Edward up.
He met Edward's eyes and nodded and Edward nodded back, and his fingers bunched the sheets; Alfons slowly guided himself against Edward's anus and then leaned forward, letting his weight carry him in slowly.
Edward seemed to be holding his breath and Alfons closed his eyes for a few moments and was enveloped in heat and bliss. Alfons bowed his head and kept moving slowly forward, until he felt his balls against Edward’s flesh, and then he slowly opened his eyes. Edward was flushed, shining a bit from sweat and his own eyes were closed. He had not released his death grip on the sheets and his brows where tilted upwards. For all the world he seemed to have a look of puzzlement on his face, one that Alfons found endearing. Alfons waited, shaking a bit with his own arousal; he rubbed his hands up and down Edward's legs and spoke to him softly.
“Are you alright?” Alfons asked. “Edward, is it alright?”
“It's different,” Edward said, sounding a bit gravely, “but it's not bad.”
Alfons felt the overwhelming need to be close to Edward's lips, so he slowly eased Edward's legs from his shoulders. Edward tightened just a bit and frowned, so Alfons rubbed his stomach in a placating way and waited for Edward to re-adjust before leaning over him. He stroked Edward's hair back, getting it off his face, and leaned down and kissed him gently. Edward responded, his false hand rising and fisting in the sleeve of Alfons’ shirt. Alfons rose up a bit, and Edward turned his face to the side once more. Alfons moved, slowly and Edward's brow furrowed, and Alfons moved again. Out of necessity his pace was agonizingly slow. Edward's throat worked, he made small uncertain sounds and he panted. But he didn't move to shove Alfons away and he didn't tighten up. He was staying calm and relaxed and Alfons nuzzled his ear and cheek with his lips. The increase in pace became inevitable; Alfons himself was shaking with need and Edward still accommodated, looking neither pleased nor repulsed. He once again brought his flesh hand to his lips; balled his fingers and pressed his thumb to his mouth. Alfons laid his hand over Edward's wrist, curled his fingers around it. His other hand stroked over Edward's head once more.
“Alfons,” Edward said, muffled by his own hand. “Alfons...please.”
Alfons closed his eyes for a moment, almost in relief, and picked his pace up again. Edward groaned and pulled on Alfons’ shirt, his hand still buried in it. His flesh knee rose, running up Alfons’ side. Edward gasped and gulped air, shaking beneath the taller man. It was all Alfons could do to stop himself from staying still and just watching him. The play of things over Edward's face, things he'd never seen before; things Edward always kept shuttered. Edward pulled his hand from his mouth then, cried out loudly and lifted his hips just a bit. Alfons bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, because otherwise he was going to become lost and he couldn't afford the distraction. Not when he'd made Edward cry out like that, not when Edward was begging without words. Not when unspoken things shone in golden eyes and it was almost too painful to see. Alfons own need howled, his own desires wailed and demanded. He thrust his head back and his hips forward and knew that it was defining moment. Something he would remember all his days, the unspoken things in the face of the man beneath him. The man who wasn't one of them, the man who trusted him. He also knew that the unspoken things were likely to stay that way, and he could never bring himself to ask for more than Edward would give; for at this moment Edward was giving him everything.
Edward's cries rose in pitch and Alfons heart beat in time to them; the miasma of heat and lust worked their magic on him, and his own cries joined Edward's as he shuddered hard and came harder; bowing his head into Edward's shoulder and Edward clutching him tightly, half sobbing, and Alfons knew heaven.
Even in his heated and lax daze he knew that Edward had not reached his second completion. Alfons levered himself up with one hand, reached between their bodies with the other and gripped Edward's cock. Edward made a strangled wail and it only took a few good strokes and Alfons smiled at the wetness that hit his stomach, and allowed himself to relax again. Edward was panting harshly, soaked and flushed; he cracked his eyes open and regarded the soft blue ones hanging above him.
Edward gave him a sudden half grin and Alfons wrinkled his eyes and smiled.
“Maybe it's not rocket science,” Edward said between pants. “But I think you could learn a thing or two from it.”
“Oh definitely,” Alfons smiled, withdrew slowly and they both grimaced. “I think it's really all about flying.”
“Yeah,” Edward said and licked his lips. “I can see that, all about flying.”
Alfons flopped over beside him, threw an arm across him, and Edward turned his head to look at him. “In a rocket,” Edward grinned, “straight to the moon.”
Alfons hand moved up Edward's body and cupped his cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking gently under Edward's eye. Edward just regarded him with a lazy smile and stretched, his hands going over his head, pointing his toes.
“In a rocket, into another world,” Alfons said with a soft smile and Edward lifted an eyebrow. “I trust when you get home you'll make me famous there. Alfons Heidrich and his amazing world traveling rockets.”
Edward caught Alfons’ hand, pulled it over to his lips and kissing his fingers.
“Of course,” Edward assured him. “Everyone will want one then, so maybe you’ll have to come with me.”
Alfons searched his face then, the smile he usually wore fading for a moment from his lips. Edward wasn't sure what he'd said wrong, but Alfons smile came back again before he could speak.
“Maybe,” Alfons said and scooted over, drawing him close, and just kept on smiling as Edward drifted off to sleep.