Book Club

by scribblemoose

Ed looked around the office for something to do. There was nothing. Every shelf was tidy, every book in place, every inch of worksurface was... well, if not polished, at least pretty clean. And he wasn't so terribly bored that he'd polish office furniture. Not yet.

Give it another hour or so, though....

Ed slumped down at his desk and let out a long sigh.

He was starting to wonder how people survived Sundays. For most of his life the concept of weekends hadn't held much meaning, except the irritation of things being closed, which tended to lead to starvation and a lack of books to work on if he (or Al or Alfons) hadn't planned ahead. Now it didn't matter: he had all the time in the world to play and relax and all those other things he had no idea at all how to do.

Al didn't seem to share his problem. He'd taken up all manner of hobbies, from country dancing to obscure number puzzles. At that particular moment he was at Gracia's weekly book-club, discussing some novel.

Ed didn't really see the point of fiction. He had attended a couple of sessions to find out what Al liked so much about them, but he'd been banned from ever going again after he'd had a particularly heated argument with Riza Hawkeye. Apparently referring to a story as a piece of purile romantic crap wasn't the done thing.

Ed truly didn't care. But he did envy Al a little for having somewhere to go on a Sunday afternoon, and hobbies that he enjoyed so much. Ed wondered idly if there was such a thing as a social club dedicated to the construction of arrays, or the discussion of actual proper books with facts in. But Al said that was called work, and that Ed should get himself a social life.

One thing was for certain: sitting in an office that was sadly lacking in business during the week, never mind at weekends, wasn't doing him any good at all. Perhaps he should go for a walk.

Ed sighed another weary sigh, got up and shrugged on his coat. He tossed his keys in the air and caught them deftly. Then he spotted a shadow through the window in the office door.

It opened (without a knock), and Roy appeared.

"Busy, Fullmetal?"

Ed scowled, irritated by the way his heart tended to race whenever he caught an unexpected glimpse of the Colonel. "I was just leaving."

"I haven't seen you in here on a weekend before. Are things picking up?"

"Things are fine, thanks." Because even if they weren't, even if Ed was quite worried about the lack of business, he wasn't about to admit that to Roy. Not yet.

Roy gave him one of those long, thoughtful looks that Ed just knew meant that he'd been seen right through. And then, just as Ed was about to open his mouth and change the subject, Roy was pushing him up against the bookcase and kissing him hard.

And Ed was kissing him back, because Roy had this odd effect on him and suddenly it felt as though kissing Roy was all he wanted to do, ever. His mind gave only the briefest of struggles (I shouldn't do this here, anyone could come in, I don't have any lube) before surrendering itself to the blank-happy place that left Ed open to enjoying all the really good things his body was feeling.

"Got anywhere to rush off to?" Roy asked, trailing kisses down the incredibly sensitive arc of Ed's throat.

"'M busy," lied Ed. "But I could cancel."

"Want to come back home with me?"

It was all Ed could do to nod, because Roy was flicking his tongue against Ed's earlobe, and that made his skull vibrate and his spine and oh God, there was no hope he'd get any sense out of himself now until he'd seen this through.

"'kay," he said.

Roy clasped his hand firmly and dragged him from his office, pausing only briefly to let Ed lock the door. Then he was marched briskly outside to the waiting car. Ed didn't recognise the driver, but Roy dropped his hand before they were fully in view, which said a lot. Enough that Ed knew not to say anything very much in the short journey from Central HQ to Roy's house.

But Roy kept looking at him, and the few times Ed dared look back, and catch his eye, were plenty to keep the fires burning.

The car dismissed and they pretty much fell through Roy's front door, pausing briefly in the hall to dispense with coats; on the stairs to get rid of each others' shirts; on the upstairs landing to deal with boots, socks and belts. Trousers and underwear hit the deck as they lurched into Roy's bedroom, and Ed landed on the bed naked, hard and panting.

Roy kissed him a lot: this was a pattern in their lovemaking, Ed had noticed. Roy kissed him on the mouth, and made amazing groaning noises when Ed kissed him back; Roy kissed his neck and shoulders and chest and smiled to himself when Ed giggled; Roy kissed his belly and his dick and his balls and Ed never really knew what else he was doing because Ed had plain melted away by then. One day he thought he might like to turn the tables and kiss Roy all over, but somehow when it came down to it he was too selfish at that moment to ever want Roy to stop.

So Roy had his way, and before Ed knew it his cock was slick with lube and Roy was straddling his hips.

This had only happened once or twice before, and Ed met it with wide eyes and a throat that wouldn't work, and his dick tingled, fucking tingled as Roy impaled himself on it, and Ed's hips had a life of their own and bucked up and Roy hitched his breath and smiled an amazing, blissful smile.

They started to fuck, and this time, because Ed was learning all the time, he licked his hand and wrapped it around Roy's cock, and gave him something to fuck in return.

The first time Roy had done this Ed had, to his shame, come in about ten seconds flat. He could last a lot longer now, especially if he used the handjob he was giving Roy to distract himself from the incredible buzz of pleasure that was working through his cock and making his balls snap up tight, and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears, and then there was that moment, that incredible, glorious moment when absolutely nothing mattered about anything. Ed arched up and back, faintly aware of Roy's strong arm holding him a little off the bed, so his head could tip back and his hips could snap up as he spurted over and over into Roy's body.

And then Roy lay him gently on the bed, and with Ed still stiff inside him, looking up at him with what was no doubt a moronic expression on his face, Roy jerked his own dick in long, indulgent sweeps of his left hand, until he came all over Ed's belly and in stripes that ran down Roy's arm and dripped onto his thigh.

Ed gulped in breath and grinned the hugest, big-ass grin he had.

A few minutes later, as Roy disengaged himself and started to clean himself up with a towel, Ed's brain returned, a little disorientated to find itself several miles across town and with a naked, sated Ed to deal with, but happy to be back just the same.

It immediately started to worry.

Things between Ed and Roy had never gone quite this way before. In the three weeks and two days they'd been together they had seen each other every other day, and it had always followed the same pattern. They met after work, went out somewhere for dinner, or at least a drink, something which Ed supposed might be called a date. Then they went back to Roy's house, had sex, and went to bed. Sometimes they woke up and had more sex before daybreak (sometimes several times), but nonetheless, at some point they slept and when they finally woke up properly it was morning, one of them was usually late for something, they grabbed coffee (breakfast if they were lucky), sniped at each other and went to work.

Sex during the day, however, was a novelty. And Ed had no idea what the protocol was. It was far too early to go properly to bed, they didn't have a date that evening and Ed didn't have to be anywhere else. He didn't want to be anywhere else, either. But still. What should he do? He supposed Roy did something or other when he wasn't around, and that's probably what he wanted to do now. He must have his own kind of social stuff to do, some weird Colonel-club to go to or something. And if not, what could they do together on a Sunday afternoon while they waited to have sex again?

Ed slithered off the bed, and looked around for his clothes.

"Rushing off already?" Roy said.

"Well, um, you know. It's not... you must have things to do. I must, too. Um. Yes, things to-"

"Would you like to stay?"

Ed looked up at him, taking a second to swallow very hard because Roy was still naked, and looked incredibly … handsome? Beautiful?... standing there, and Ed's brain had to struggle to stay around for long enough to make any kind of sense at all.

"Okay," Ed said. "If you want."

"I do," said Roy. "Unless you have to be somewhere?"

"No," Ed admitted. "Al does this bookclub thing on Sundays, and well, you know it's not really my kind of…" he shrugged.

"Ah, yes, I heard about that," said Roy, and looked away under the pretence of retrieving his socks, but probably because he was trying not to laugh.

"So, um, what shall we…" What do we do if we're not eating or having sex? And then Ed started to panic. What did they really have in common, after all, and oh shit, what would they talk about?

"I've laid a fire in the study," Roy said. "I could make some tea and we could sit and read for a while, if you like. I've just got a review copy of a new book on thermodynamics you might like."

"Sit and… read?" Ooh, thermodynamics?

"Unless you'd find that too boring." Roy was smiling.

"No," said Ed, with a grin he couldn't help. "I could just about stand it."

And so the first non-date that Ed spent with Roy was actually better than any of the dates they'd been on. There was a warm fire, and a good (and not at all fictional) book, and Roy, and Ed decided this was the most perfect Sunday afternoon hobby he could ever hope to indulge in.

And he still got to have sex afterwards.

~ owari ~

Illustration by PL Nunn