Tiny Miniskirts
A Series of Fullmetal Alchemist Short Stories
Author: Kurama-Sweethart (Moe)
Rating: Mature (Ed's mouth, maybe sexual references, ect.)
Pairings: Various
Author's Note: Meh. More sexual innuendos in this one. More angst, too. Bite me.

Secret
Words: 147

Ed never thought that he'd have to tell anyone, let alone his own brother. And yet here he was, his mind urging him to just do it, his palms sweaty. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and glanced across the Rockbell's guest room to where his younger brother, appearing to an untrained eye as just a suit of armor, was sitting.

"Um… Al? There's something I have to tell you. Something I've been wanting to tell you for a very long time." He swallowed audibly, unable to meet his brother's bright eyes. "But I was afraid of what your reaction might be."

Even in an iron tomb, he could feel the concern written all over his sibling's face. "What? What is it?" There was urgency in Al's voice. "Tell me."

Ed took another deep breath, and once again his mind urged him. "I'm sleeping with the Colonel."

Worth it
Words: 131

There wasn't anything Ed wouldn't do to get his little brother's body back. When it came to Al, it seemed as though the Fullmetal had no embarrassment or pride- just the desperate need to return the only family he had into flesh again. Was that such a request? Was it worth all he sacrificed?

"Is he?" Envy asked, voicing his thoughts. The homunculus purred into Ed's ear, gently nibbling on the soft lobe, allowing the back of his hand to connect with the alchemist's face, skin flared at the contact. "Is that pile of scrap rubble worth… this?"

When the body beneath him neglected to answer, Envy snarled and slapped him again, thrusting his hips harder this time, watching smugly as Ed grimaced.

But he received only a groan in reply.

Fortnight
Words: 169

There was always urgency when Mustang slunk into my bedroom, already unbuttoning his military jacket. The Colonel always got straight to the point. Foreplay was a waste of time, he told me once, and he always stood true to his word. There was never any kisses or love nips to be found on my neck the next morning, nor were my lips ever swollen from his eager mouth. He would crawl into bed with me, smiling apologetically, as if he somehow knew. But even then, there was sadness in his dark eyes, something I could never really explain.

After he was satisfied, he would carefully slide out from under the sheets, pulling on his trousers and refusing to meet my gaze as I watched. There were never sweet nothings whispered into my ear, or strong arms to hold me as I drifted off to sleep. Just the lingering smell of cologne and cinders, and the echo of his whispers as he slipped through the door. "Until next time, Havoc."

To be continued. Totally written at ungodly hours of the night when I should be sleeping considering my massive contagious head cold, but I felt like writing a second chapter… just spur-of-the-moment. More angst than comedy, but hey, whatever. I would like to say something to my reviewers; however, I seem to be lacking in those, other than Requiem of Silence. Work on that. ;)