Yo! Another one-shot like fic that has been encircling my mind for the past couple days. Hope you like!


Alphonse was the type of person… who sometimes worked like a clock.

Ed suspected it was just a phase, but recently Al had become a walking habit of routine. He was scheduled now, and seldom broke that schedule, Ed had observed. Being a scientist and all, he was supposed to notice these types of things. And it was his belief that those who work like a wind-up toy in life, in sleep, at least for a time, naturally, would also function that way during sex.

It was the same thing every night they decided to lie together. Al would lay himself across the bed sheets, face up, arms strewed carelessly about, legs hanging loosely around Ed's waist. (Ed rather felt Al was lazy during sex; he never wanted to do any "work.") And no matter what was going on, Ed could always tell what Al was feeling, what Al was thinking.

There were hints, you see, clues, cues. The first cue that let Ed know Al was currently feeling great pleasure was this lovely red tinge that overtook Al's skin. It would start at his cheeks and work its way across his face, to his shoulders and chest, until it branched out all over his bare, sweaty skin. Once Al's entire body was glowing crimson, his legs would shudder and snap together. His once soft sighs would turn to whimpers, telling Ed that he wanted more.

Of course, Edward was more than happy to oblige.

The next cue was that Al's facial expression would begin to change. His normal composure of simple closed eyes would evolve into this exquisite look of bliss. His brows would tilt down into an inquisitive, almost curious look, and hot breath would rise up from his mouth. Al's eyes would open, half-lidded and heavy, while his cute pink tongue would lazily escape from his mouth. Which nearly killed Ed with its adorableness every time.

Finally, there came the breathing. No, "breathing" probably wasn't even the right word for it. It wasn't any normal, deep, inhaling of oxygen, oh no. To put it into perspective, when Ed first heard it he feared Al was hyperventilating, or something to that effect. But it wasn't the case, as he quickly found, it was simply Al's final… "message," to him.

At which point, Ed would lower himself deep into his brother and press their bodies tightly together, so their heat could mix and multiply. Ed would pick up his pace drastically, wanting to be in perfect synchronicity with Alphonse.

And then, of course…

Al never made a sound when he came. Ed never understood why, and even upon asking Al could offer no explanation either. It wasn't out of suppression though, of that Ed was fairly confident. Usually Al would simply close his mouth, or bite down between his thumb and forefinger, or on occasion would sink his teeth into Ed's shoulder. If Al's hands were otherwise free, he would grip around Ed's back in a loving embrace while his back would rise from the bed sheets up into open air.

For a split second, one glorious breath in time, they would be completely still, suspended, joined together completely, (both figuratively and literally.) Then both their legs and arms would betray them, and collapse back to earth in exhaustion.

Then, they would just lay there for a while. It took Al some time to recover from the ordeal, more time then Ed needed anyway. Their arms would still be entwined around each other, just the way Alphonse liked it, and his breathing would slow back down to a reasonable pace. Sometimes he would be perfectly silent, or sometimes whisper, "Brother… Brother…" to himself, before finally falling asleep.

However…

If the universe was particularly kind to Edward that night, Al would sometimes lean up into his ear and whisper, "Brother… let's do it again."

In which case Ed would reach over and wind up his lover once more.