it's the small things

[deerna]

Rating: NSFW
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Relationship: Roy Mustang/Edward Elric
Tags: trans edward elric, first time, oral sex, post-canon
Wordcount: 672
Notes:

Summary:

Excerpt:

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Roy says. “We can go slow.”
“What? No, fuck slow, I’m just—look, you probably already know all about it, since you’re annoying like that, but just in case I—just don’t want it to be a surprise when my dick isn’t—” he flounders for a moment, gesturing awkwardly, “—there.”
Roy blinks. “What?”

{ read on AO3 | read here }

Roy imagined this moment a thousand times.

He probably shouldn’t admit it so freely—for a number of reasons. Edward was too young, before; they would’ve been committing fraternization on the job, before; there was an apocalypse to thwart and no room for pleasure and relationships, before—but it doesn’t matter now. He doesn’t have to imagine anymore.

One moment they’re teasing each other about something stupid, and the next they’re kissing on Roy’s ratty couch until they’re gasping for breath, Edward’s hands moving from his jaw to his waist to his arms like he doesn’t know where he wants to touch him first either, and Roy cutting himself on all the sharp edges of his eagerness.

They pause to gather their wits, and Roy looks at Edward’s eyes dark and liquid, a flush high on his cheeks and his hair a wispy mess where Roy accidentally mussed his braid and he’s beautiful. He breaks out in a breathless laughter when he sees Roy get on the floor—what are you doing? Your knees are gonna hate you in the morning—but then he goes very still when Roy smoothes his hands down his thighs, smiling up at him in a way he hopes feels reassuring and not too smug.

He moves slowly as he untucks the shirt from Edward’s waistband, unbuckles his belt without looking away from his face. Edward doesn’t stop him, even if his hands are clenched beside his hips, even if he’s biting his lip when Roy traces the seam on the inside of his thigh with a careful finger and—

“Wait,” Edward chokes out, rough and alarmed. “Fuck, wait.”

Roy stops. He brings both his hands back onto Edward’s knees, digs his thumb in the folds of his pants—feels where unyielding metal turns into hard toned muscle.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Edward bites out, dismissive. A muscle jumps under Roy’s hand. “I’m just. You need to know this. Before you start. I—” he stammers.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Roy says. “We can go slow.”

“What? No, fuck slow, I’m just—look, you probably already know all about it, since you’re annoying like that, but just in case I—just don’t want it to be a surprise when my dick isn’t—” he flounders for a moment, gesturing awkwardly, “—there.”

Roy blinks. “What?”

Edward flushes and makes a frustrated noise. “Whatever! Just—look!”

He jumps on his feet so suddenly Roy almost gets an automail knee in his face, but then he’s fumbling with his fly, and pulling his pants down his hips with his underwear in one swift movement and—

Oh.

Roy feels a few things rearranging themselves in the back of his brain. None of them are detrimental to his willingness to put his mouth on Edward as quickly as humanly possible, but— when he looks up, Edward is looking somewhere in the distance, clearly bracing himself for something, expecting Roy to say something. Something not good.

It’s a delicate moment. He really should think about something appropriate to say.

Instead, his fingers itch to stroke down Edward’s happy trail—dark and golden like his hair when it’s damp—and lower, over the hard swell and the wet folds of his sex.

“I wouldn’t say your dick isn’t there,” he says. “I would say it’s just as small as the rest of you.”

Edward splutters, between outrage and laughter, and he finally—finally looks at Roy, and reaches out to touch his face, and it’s glorious, and Roy could kneel at his feet forever. “I cannot believe you’re making jokes about my height right now.”

Roy grins. “You looked like you could use the distraction. Did it work?”

Edward huffed and shoved him, sending him sprawling on the carpet, laughter bubbling up in his chest.