Roy wakes slowly, like rising out of water, and even with his eyes closed he makes note of the heat and cold of Fullmetal against him. It's been soon enough since the last time that his body certainly doesn't blaze awake, but he breathes deeply, feels the rise and fall of Fullmetal's chest in shallow, wakeful patterns. Fullmetal says nothing and so Roy ponders keeping up the pretense of sleep, but in the end he sighs, shifts, feels the sticky tug of hot flesh on hot flesh, and a curl of interest stirs in his belly.

"You're awake."

There's something odd about their position, Roy realizes; a strange tightness across Fullmetal's chest when he rubs his cheek against it, and he cannot feel Fullmetal's arms about him or against his side. Slowly, he opens his eyes, raises his head.

Fullmetal has handcuffed himself to the bed.

Roy sits upright slowly, one hand braced on the bed beside Fullmetal's shoulder and -- no, he thinks, they aren't exactly handcuffs. He's taken part of the plate from his automail arm and turned it to a chain, a cuff, tied his metal arm to his flesh and to the headboard like that. It amazes him, he thinks, that he could have slept through a transmutation going on right above his head.

"Ya," Fullmetal says in casual greeting.

"Fullmetal?" He hadn't intended it to turn out quite as questioning as it did, and the blankets shift under his hand as he leans up, touches the cool metal of Fullmetal's automail handcuffs.

"You know," Fullmetal drawls lazily, "you can just tell me if you've got fantasies. I mean, I'll laugh, sure, but only a little."

Roy runs his fingers down the tense arch of muscle in Fullmetal's flesh arm. "Fantasies, Fullmetal? I'm not sure what you--"

With a jerk of his head, Fullmetal gestures towards the door with his chin and Roy turns, looks. Bars have risen in front of the door, and as he blinks and focusses, he can see the path the transmutation must have taken, a ripple through the carpet to the wall and up by Fullmetal's head.

"I'm not stupid, you know," Fullmetal says, a dark thread of amusement running through his tone. "I pay attention to shit. Like the number of times you've put me in prison or framed me to go to prison or invited me to quell prison riots with you."

It takes Roy a moment to find his voice. "There were good reasons for--"

"Sure there were." Fullmetal's knees part and Roy sinks down against him, Fullmetal's thighs warm against his sides, contrasting oddly to the cold of his left foot against Roy's right hip. "You always have good reasons for shit. Does it *feel* better when you do that? Like you don't have to worry, because at least you have an excuse?"

He doesn't answer. Fullmetal is grinding against him, a slow shift of his hips making his hardening penis press a hot path along Roy's stomach.

"You don't always need to make a fucking excuse, Mustang," Fullmetal purrs. "Sometimes you can just do stuff. You don't have to get what you like in small amounts and just let it be part of work. Suffering in silence makes me think you're stupid."

"I am stupid," Roy says, reaching up to twine his fingers in the chain of Fullmetal's automail with one hand as he shivers, reaches for the discarded bottle of lubricant with the other. "Sometimes."

Fullmetal laughs, head pressing back into the pillow. "Sometimes, Mustang? You seriously overestimate yourself, bastard."

Roy presses two slick fingers into Fullmetal, feels his breath catch and air stutter out. "Sometimes," he confirms, twisting his fingers into the sucking heat, pumping them.

"Mnn," Fullmetal says. It's not exactly an argument, but it'll pass for one if he cares to bring it up later. "C'mon. Been waiting a long time. You were sleeping."

His words trail off as Roy kisses him, licks and bites and sucks at surprisingly soft lips, tastes the exhaled heat of Fullmetal's sigh in his mouth. "Yes," Roy murmurs, tugging his fingers free, taking hold of Fullmetal's hips and tilting them up, positioning himself. "I was."

There's no time to wonder what Fullmetal might have done with his gift if Roy had kept sleeping, had slept the whole night away, if he'd have let his setup stay, let his shoulders cramp, or just put it all away for some other time. Roy presses in, groans into the cold metal of Fullmetal's shoulder.

Fullmetal's breath draws in, slow, thin, shaky. "C'mon," he murmurs, a resonance in the low husky tones. "C'mon, you bastard, move."

Roy slides one hand into the small of Fullmetal's back to support him, winds his fingers of the other into the chain of Fullmetal's cuffs, and moves, and moves, and moves.

There's a catch in Fullmetal's breathing every time he thrusts, and against his hand he can feel Fullmetal's fingers twitching. He grits his teeth and swallows against heat and pressure, against the weight of Fullmetal's body tied to the bed, against the way the chain links on the cuffs pinch his fingers lightly with each movement.

"C'mon," Fullmetal manages, and it's clear that his mouth's dry from the thinness of his voice, the breathlessness, the way he has to wet his lips first. "C'mon."

It takes more effort than he thought he could, but he shifts, lifts his hand from Fullmetal's hips as Fullmetal clamps his legs more firmly against him. He slides his hand between them, takes hold of Fullmetal's cock, strokes with a firm, needy grip.

Roy lifts his head to watch with blurry vision as Ed's wrists jerk against his cuffs, as Ed's hands curl into fists, as Ed's head tosses back against the pillow, mouth falling open, hips twitching, hot semen spattering both their stomachs.

He has to close his eyes to that and so he does, he closes his eyes and feels darkness and heat and tension, and hears the shift of metal chains and Ed's low panting groans and moves, and moves, and comes hard, hitting him like a heatwave, like the rocking-back force of an explosion until he shakes himself back into awareness and finds his face pressing against the scars on Fullmetal's chest and his voice a series of thick, low sighs against Fullmetal's skin.

Under him, Fullmetal slowly relaxes, pushes back to slide Roy out of him, curls down to the bed. Roy follows him down as if seeking his heat, curls against him, listens to the soft noise of Fullmetal's hands clapping together and the spark of transmutation a moment before Fullmetal's arms wrap around him, hot and cold, tugging him closer.

"See?" Fullmetal murmurs, low and husky. "Stupid. Go to sleep again."

Roy lets his eyes close again. Fullmetal has left the bars up behind their door, he thinks as he sinks back down towards sleep, but that can wait. It can wait until tomorrow, or until whenever. Right now they're locked in, and nobody can interrupt them, and he doesn't have to say a thing to keep it that way.

Not a thing.