Roy had begun to shave in the evening as well as the morning. He never used to bother, but Ed had started to complain, and well.

Well.

It still was strange, he thought, lathering carefully, drawing the razor down his cheek. It still was strange to have someone there regularly enough that he might complain. Certainly not what he was used to. Nobody complained about how things would be for next time when you were only having one night stands.

It was a lesson in compromise that was oddly discomfiting.

Strange how sensitive his skin felt.

Ed spat out a curse in the other room and Roy jerked, hissed at himself, ran a finger over the cut. Worse now, too sensitive, and the soap stung. He finished up shaving quickly, dabbed at his face with a towel that came away red. Stupid. Too used to living alone. He kept the towel pressed to his cheek as he left the bathroom.

After he'd moved in, Ed had kidnapped one of Roy's desks and filled it with his own books, his own notes. He was bent over it now, peering at a text, and Roy knew better than to call him cute.

He was, though, at least at the moment - he'd stolen Roy's reading glasses one day as a joke and had been startled to find that he was, in fact, farsighted. (Sometimes, Roy wondered when he saw symbolism crop up in real life, how ordered destiny was, and what kind of sense of humour existed in the universe). Sick of losing them whenever Ed had wanted to read, Roy had ordered Ed a pair of his own, but Ed invariably still stole Roy's when he could. They were a touch too large, and always slid down as they were doing now. Beyond that, his hair was falling in his eyes, and he'd put on a headband to keep it out of his face. Cute.

It made him uncomfortable, sometimes, to think of Ed as cute. Their age difference sat between them, unspoken and deadly. He thought, recently, that Ed might be trying to point it out to him; their last grocery list had included ice cream, though Ed hated milk and Roy couldn't see what the difference was. Sometimes, Ed would get himself a bowl despite that. He'd taken one earlier in the evening, but forgotten to eat it as he studied, and it sat melted beside him.

Roy leaned over, towel still cradled to his cheek, and plucked Ed's headband off. Ed's bangs tumbled down, obscuring his vision, and he looked up at Roy with a glare. "Colonel."

"You took my glasses," Roy said mildly. "Fair's fair, Fullmetal."

They stared at each other for a moment, then Ed snatched the glasses off his face, slammed them down on the desk, and held his hand out.

"You don't have to break them," Roy said, injured, and offered the headband back.

"I have another pair. What did you do to your face?"

Roy winced, faintly. "It's nothing, really. Cut myself shaving. It's shallow, but it bleeds a lot."

"Let me see."

He held the towel away from his face. The blood had almost stopped, he thought, which was just as well.

"Stupid," Ed said, voice low, and rose from his chair. "You never take care of yourself."

"I never-" Roy began, then stopped, because Ed was stepping closer, ignoring all the rules of personal space, and leaning up with his mouth open.

Ed's mouth stung, too hot, his tongue tracing the cut. All shallow cuts sting, Roy reminded himself, they all sting, but he couldn't stop the hiss of his breath, couldn't stop his fingers from tightening in Ed's shirt.

"There," Ed murmured, and didn't move away. "It'll stop soon."

So many answers, and none he could put into words.

Ed looked at him, eyes sharp, and kissed him.

He tasted his own blood on Ed's lips, sucked hints of it from Ed's tongue, let Ed back him against the desk. Roy put his hand down hard to catch his balance and the bowl of melted ice cream went flying to the floor. He startled, pulled his head away, looked at it soak into the carpet.

"Later," Ed said, and he couldn't ever argue when Ed got that tone in his voice.

Ed kissed him there for a while, and he knew he must be damaging Ed's notes, couldn't bring himself to care. If Ed didn't care, then he hardly had reason to. Ed stretched against him, cursed, and Roy sank down a little, lower back braced against the desk's edge, feet outstretched and pressed against the floor Ed settled between his thighs, hips to hips, groin to groin. If he didn't mention Ed's height, Ed didn't have to get upset for his compensating for it.

They lived their lives in silences.

"Just don't move," Ed whispered, voice low and husky, and ground his hips forward.

Roy caught his breath, tightened his hands on the edge of the desk, watched Edward's eyes through lowered eyelashes. Don't move, Ed said, and he tried as Ed's hands clenched at the desk, as Ed rubbed against him from chest to thigh, as he grew hard and whimpered and Ed grinned, showing teeth.

Don't move, Ed said, and how could he disobey, when Ed moved against him just so, when Ed pressed, and how could he obey when he wanted their pants off now, when he wanted - wanted -

"That's the face I like," Ed said, and Roy sucked air desperately.

He shifted carefully, only one hand to brace himself, the desk a line of pain in the small of his back from how hard he was pressed to it, and put his free arm around Ed as if he could pull him closer. "I want," he said, and that was enough.

"Bedroom," Ed said. "I was tired of studying anyway."

Roy pushed against his feet, slid up, and Ed grunted, rocking against his leg. Using the desk to half sit, half stand, Roy unfastened the buckle on Ed's shirt, slid it off and let it fall to the floor. It landed in the ice cream, but Ed didn't notice, and Roy wouldn't say. His tanktop followed, but he couldn't reach Ed's belt, not with the way he was pressed to Roy's leg, a hard heat through leather and cotton. "Bedroom," Roy repeated, and Ed shivered, pushed away, wove a stumbling walk to the door.

Roy watched, catching his breath.

Ed stopped in the doorway, turned back, and his eyes were bright. "Are you just going to stay there?" he demanded, and it was amazing how galvanizing that was.

They fell to the bed in a tangle, and while Roy secretly believed neither cared who ended on top, that moment of rolling around, clawing at clothing and skin, legs scrabbling for purchase - well. He wouldn't give that up, and Ed seemed not to want to either.

"Who the hell designed these uniforms?" Ed demanded, tugging string free, unzipping zippers, unbuttoning buttons. "A eunuch?"

Roy laughed, found the noise breathless, helped. His jacket hit a chair, his pants vanished somewhere, and he fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, began to tug his gloves off.

Ed growled at him. Roy blinked, taken aback.

"I like those. Leave those."

He left them, but his shirt went the way of his pants. Ed was biting his shoulder. Roy flipped them, pinned Ed, sat on Ed's thighs to undo his belt. Ed let him, and that should have been the first sign Ed was planning something.

Roy slid the belt free and Ed twisted under him, hip-checked him with the metal leg braced against the bed. It wasn't exactly pain as he landed on his back, certainly wasn't pain as Ed straddled him. Ed took the belt from his hands and leaned forward, hand on either side of his head, belt stretched between them.

He froze, the line of pressure across his throat making it hard to breathe.

"Don't worry," Ed said, grinning, and it was strange, the way he felt himself relax, tilt his chin up, close his eyes. It was too simple; it shouldn't have been that simple.

It was that simple.

Ed kissed him again, thighs snug against Roy's chest, belt taut across his throat. He felt tight in odd places, in his chest, in his throat, in his skull. Spots of colour - red, yellow - shifted behind his eyelids and then Ed was leaning back and air was rushing in. He heaved, and Ed whispered, fervently unscientific, "God."

He opened his eyes, saw Ed staring down at him, whispered up at Ed, "Well?"

Ed threw the belt aside and scrabbled at his own pants.

Roy didn't laugh, knew better than to laugh, but he pushed himself to an elbow and did his best to distract Ed, reaching out to trail a rough, gloved hand over the raw red flesh surrounding Ed's automail port, drawing a hiss and a half-spat curse. Leaned up and rolled his tongue over a nipple, tasted sweat and need.

Ed groaned, tangled his fingers in Roy's hair too tightly, tugged. "Turn over," he said.

Roy let Ed pull his head back, breathed the air, tasted them on it. "No," he said. Ed's eyes narrowed and he smirked. "I want to watch you."

Relaxing, Ed smirked back. "You're getting old, Colonel," he said. "You sure you can manage it?"

Lord, a challenge. His back would feel this tomorrow. "Why don't you give me a try?"

He arched as Ed shifted to sling Roy's legs over his shoulders. The automail was cold under his left leg, shockingly so, and he twisted at the feel. Ed grinned as he leaned, dragged the lube out of the bedside drawer, coated up two fingers. "Well, if you're asking-"

They were cold inside Roy and he hissed, arched. "Warm it up first," he snapped, and Ed laughed, twisted his fingers.

Hard to stay angry, really, and he wound his fingers into the bedsheets, smelled a faint spark, held on.

Ed pressed into him, hard, slick, impatient, hot. Roy groaned, pressed his heels into Ed's back, shifted against him.

Unsurprisingly, Ed did this like he did so many other things - immediate, demanding, relentless. Roy had trouble breathing, couldn't catch his breath, as Ed moved and kept moving, slamming his hips forward, trusting Roy to be able to take it, trusting that there wouldn't be any damage. He wasn't arguing. He could hear the noises he was making, he could taste them on the air, and he couldn't stop them.

After a moment, he managed to recall that he'd wanted to watch Ed, strained, lifted his head from the pillow. Too close at this distance, both of them farsighted, and sweat and need and the relentless thump of his own body, of Ed's body, made it hard to see, made things blur. His chest was tight with lack of air, and he watched, saw the way Ed bit his own lip, saw the way Ed's brows furrowed, almost with pain. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, blurred.

Desperate for something he couldn't quite name, he unwound the fingers of one hand from the bedsheet, tucked it behind Ed's neck, hissed, breathless, "More."

It almost hurt, it almost hurt, but he was painless there, nothing could hurt him, this far gone with Edward moaning, Edward moving. He was bent double, back aching, Ed biting down into his shoulder, snaking a hand betwen them, and hot, hot, movement, hot.

"More," he demanded, and Edward tugged, roughly, muttering invective, a rough hard grip. He tried to speak again and found no words, felt garbled groans come out, sucking air less and less, breathe, breathe-

He was almost surprised by his own orgasm, by his heels digging into Ed's back, by the cry Edward made as Roy shoved back, every muscle tight, by the burn and ache and - God-

Roy let himself relax, let himself breathe, let himself be moved and shaken as Ed thrust a few more times and came, a burst of heat, focussed on sucking air as spots danced in front of his vision, it was hard to see, it was hard to breathe. Ed was hot against him, skin making a wet sucking noise as their chests separated, as he leaned back.

And then collapse - he was used to it by now, though the first time Ed had done it it had frightened him. It was as if he used everything he had and then nothing but exhaustion was left. It was strange what he could get used to.

God, he was getting old, his legs aching as he slid them from Ed's shoulders, his back setting up an immediate dull throb as he uncurled, slid Ed from him. He couldn't find it in him to worry, not now. Even that ache was an echo of orgasm, even that was - enough, really.

Ed sighed. Stretching, he curled against Roy's shoulder, skin on skin scalding. Roy breathed sweat, smiled.

They lay there, and Roy listened to the air, wondered at the sound. Realized that he was, very faintly, humming.

He stopped, let silence grow, and Ed's fingers curled against his shoulders. "Don't," Ed muttered, voice thick with sleep. "More."

Roy exhaled heavily, inhaled the sweaty air, looked down at the top of Ed's head.

Then, very carefully, suddenly self-conscious, he began to hum again.