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The rich, heavy scent of damp earth filtered through the room as the storm began to break overhead. Low, occasional rumbles of thunder peered through the sky. Near the paneled living room window, Edward was leaning back. He had a newspaper loosely gripped in his left hand and a steaming mug of hot chocolate settled in his right. The quiet comfort of his afternoon was gently broken by the familiar steps of her heels approaching.
“What do you think, Ed?”
Winry stood in the doorway, holding up two hangers. Her voice carried a faint, frustrating note of uncertainty. In her left hand hung a classically simple gown of dark grey silk embroidered with delicate patterns; in her right, a striking, strapless number covered in semi-gold sequins that caught the dimming light.
She already anticipated his answer, but the stubborn part of her needed to ask anyway.
Edward offered a mild shrug, putting down the mug on the table. His eyes returned to the newspaper. “Winry, you know I don’t care which one you pick. They both look great on you,” he said, his tone entirely transparent.
It was the seventh time he’d given some variation of that exact answer.
“Thanks, that’s incredibly helpful,” she grumbled, tossing her head back in exasperation. For nearly thirty minutes, she had been pacing a path between the closet and the mirror, drowning in indecision. She knew he meant well, but it would have saved them an immense amount of trouble if the man would just form a solid opinion. “At this rate, we’re going to be late for dinner.”
He let out a low chuckle. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Winry shot him a glare, though his amusement only made her lips twitch with a repressed smile. Finally giving up on the gold sequins, she opted for the grey silk. It was a beautifully draped piece with a vintage cut, adorned with gold and deep violet embroidery that seemed to undulate like waves along the hem and neckline.
“Anyway,” Winry added, smoothing the fabric against her waist, “Mustang is going to have half of Central at this dinner. If I wear the sequins, I’ll spend the evening dodging greasy politicians. At least in this, I can blend into the background while you do the heavy lifting.”
Edward groaned, letting the newspaper drop flat onto his lap. “Don’t remind me. The bastards are only calling it a ‘Strategic Alliance Gala’ to show off the military’s latest budget allocation. I’m just the trophy ex-State Alchemist they want to parade around.”
He rubbed his temples, a genuine sigh slipping past his lips. “Even Al admitted the guest list has gotten completely out of hand.”
Winry walked back toward the bedroom to change, her voice drifting out. “Come on, Ed. Everyone just wants to hear about your research transit through the East. You’re practically a celebrity there now.”
“Exactly. They’re gonna treat me like a museum exhibit,” Ed scoffed, crossing his legs. “I didn’t spend three years studying eastern alchemy there just to explain about what it can do to soil nutrients to high-society lapdogs. I’m bored just thinking about it.”
He turned his gaze back to the window. The sky’s gloom was deepening by the second. It was funny how something as completely colorless as water could turn the clouds into such a bruised, heavy charcoal.
Then, the sky opened up. The drizzle started small, prompting Ed to brush away the condensed fog on the glass pane to watch the street below. Within minutes, the light rain swelled into a downpour, creating a dull, rhythmic static against the glass, rooftops, and oak leaves outside—like an old radio gradually coming to life.
Winry stepped back into the living room, the dark silk gown hugging her curves perfectly, though her eyes immediately darted to the blurred world outside. She groaned. “Damn it. It’s coming down way sooner than the forecast predicted.”
Outside, the streetlights flickered against a deluge that threatened to turn the pavement into a rushing river. The wind whipped the heavy branches of the yard’s oak tree against the side of the house with a violent thud. Soon it wasn’t just rain; it became a wall of white noise.
The mere thought of wrestling with the heavy front door, fighting for a cab in the freezing chaos, then showing up to a stuffy hall drenched already felt utterly exhausting. The warm luxury of staying in settled over the room like a heavy blanket.
“Let’s just stay home,” Edward said softly, turning his head to look at her. The stubbornness was gone from his eyes, replaced by a quiet warmth. “The weather’s getting nasty, and I’m not letting your favorite dress get ruined by the mud.”
Winry paused, looking out at the dark sky, before letting out a long, relieved sigh. “I guess you’re right. We should call and let the others know.” She turned toward the side table, reaching for the telephone.
But as she reached to dial, a sharp tug at her shoulder blades made her halt. “Ugh, perfect. Just my luck.”
“What’s wrong?” Ed asked, setting his mug down and standing up.
“Can you help me with this?” She pointed a finger over her shoulder. “The zipper is completely jammed. I think it caught a piece of the silk.”
Balancing the heavy receiver against her shoulder, she fumbled to dial the hall’s direct line with one hand while trying to keep the back of the dress from gaping with the other. She looked beautifully flustered. Ed stepped in close, his shadow enveloping her as he moved behind her back.
He smoothly took the phone from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers as he held the receiver to his own ear. “Central Banquet Hall? Connect me to General Mustang’s party. Yeah, this is Edward Elric... Just tell him the lower district streets are completely flooded and we can’t go out. No, tell him not to send a staff car, we’re off the clock. Tell Al I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”
Ed dropped the phone back with a definitive click, a small, triumphant smirk on his face. “Well. We’re officially truant.”
“You’re terrible. Roy is definitely going to be pissed,” Winry whispered, though a smile and relief in her voice were noticeable.
While he had been speaking, Ed’s attention had already shifted to the snag. His fingers, calloused from years of gripping weapons and working with alchemy, moved with practiced precision. Not rushing, he carefully eased the delicate, dark fabric away from the metal fastener. As he did that, Winry could feel his knuckles brushing against the bare skin of her spine.
Ed felt the subtle shiver ripple through her body. His hands slowed.
Winry waited another second before glancing over her shoulder. “Still stuck?”
“Nah,” Ed murmured, his voice low against the shell of her ear. As his eyes wandered over her, he continued—guiding the zipper further down, exposing more of the pale, smooth skin of her back inch by inch.
“Just taking my time.”
His hands rose slowly, hovering for a beat just above her skin before his palms settled firmly onto the slope of her shoulders. Ed stepped even closer, his chest pressing flush against her bare back, completely enveloping her in his warmth. He dipped his head, his warm breath fanning across the exposed skin at the base of her neck, before pressing a chaste kiss to the sensitive valley of her nape.
Winry let out a quiet, trembling sigh, her head tilting slightly to give him better access. Her body naturally yielded to the weight of his presence.
Amused and encouraged by her surrender, Ed traced a slow, burning path of soft kisses along the curve of her neck, tracking outward toward her shoulder. Winry’s fingers blindly reached back, her knuckles bracing against his thigh as a shiver cascaded straight down her spine.
Satisfied with the trail of heat he had left across her skin, Ed’s hands slid down to the curve of her waist.
She turned around slowly within his embrace. The loosened gown slipped dangerously low over her chest, held up only by the fact that she had brought her hands up to rest on his shoulders. Her blue eyes held a knowing heat.
“Years have made you bold, Elric,” she teased. Her fingers curled into the loose golden strands of his hair, pulling him just a fraction closer.
“Well, you match me step for step,” he countered, his gaze dropping heavily to her lips.
Ed paused, his forehead leaning just slightly against hers. He let out a breath that brushed her damp lips before he actually touched them, stretching out the space between them until she couldn’t take the wait anymore.
He then gingerly pressed his lips against hers that felt like an anchor dropping. He took his time, testing the curve of her mouth, his lips catching her lower one in a soft pull that left her dizzy before the kiss even properly started.
Winry made a small sound in the back of her throat—a soft, caught breath that vanished right into him. That broke whatever iron grip he had on his patience.
He slanted his head, deepening the angle to drink her in completely. His tongue slipped past her lips, lazy but demanding, a thorough exploration that seemed to thrum straight down to her heels.
The rest of her body caught up all at once. Winry’s fingers tightened in his hair as she tilted her hips against his, seeking the solid heat of him through the sliding friction of the silk.
He broke the kiss only to graze down the sensitive expanse of her throat. He tilted her head back, his lips further mapping the pulse point that hammered wildly beneath her skin. He loved the way she sounded—the raw, hitching intake of air that proved, even after all their years together, he could still catch her completely off guard.
“Spent forty minutes stressing over the perfect dress,” Ed murmured against her skin. “Just for me to strip it off you anyway.”
Winry let out a breathy laugh, her knuckles tightening in his hair. “You technically haven’t stripped anything yet, smart ass. Less talking.”
To enforce her point, Winry slid her hand down to the nape of his neck, her fingers hooking into the hair tie of his low ponytail and giving it a firm, demanding tug.
He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips slid lower, leaving a trail of biting kisses across the delicate bone of her shoulder before tracking downward to the swell of her breasts. The loosened dress offered no resistance as Ed used his hands to gently push the fabric lower. His palms were large and warm as he slowly kneaded the soft flesh, his thumbs sweeping across until the sensitive peaks puckered under his touch.
Winry arched helplessly into his hands. By the time his mouth finally closed around her nipple, the sigh she’d been holding dissolved into something far less dignified.
She clutched at his shoulders, her head tossing back as his tongue danced around the aching tip. Every brush of his mouth, every squeeze of his hands, sent a wave of heat straight between her thighs.
Slowly, though reluctantly, Ed let her slip from his mouth, his hands tracing a slow path down to settle firmly on the flare of her hips.
Winry forced her heavy eyelids open, her dazed blue eyes locking onto his. Through the haze of her desire, her gaze drifted down to his right hand. Even after all these years, the sight of it could still make her breath catch, but right now, it made her blood run entirely hot. His hand was slightly tanned, mildly calloused from years of field research, and pulsing with a vital, heavy human warmth.
He looked up then, golden eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers all over.
“Focus, Winry,” he whispered. His voice sounded gentle, yet laced with a cruel tease. His fingers drifted higher, skimming the damp lace of her panties.
“Bet you’ve always imagined this, huh? No more cold metal. Just me.”
Her breathing completely faltered, voice catching in her throat as she failed to form his name.
He didn’t make her wait. Ed sank down to his knees before her. She stood trembling, completely exposed to his gaze as his hands slipped beneath the lace, parting her legs a little wider. His fingers found her center, already slick and burning for him, and he stroked her gingerly.
Winry gasped out his name, her fingers locking into the fabric of his shirt to keep herself upright as her thighs shook. He was relentless. Holding her open, he used his tongue to drive her further to the edge—lapping at her sweetness, burying his face against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
Then her control shattered.
Winry went completely rigid, as a sharp, undone cry tore from her throat. The pleasure crashed over all at once—a beautiful, blinding ruin that left her entirely breathless.
Her chest heaved, her breasts rising and falling as the dark silk gown finally, finally lost its last grip on her hips, sliding down to pool around her ankles.
For a split second, the sudden rush of cool air made her want to cover herself, an instinctive reflex to her absolute bareness, but the urge vanished before she could even lift her hands. It was already too late.
Ed rose back to his feet, a dark, triumphant satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he looked down at how thoroughly he had made her unraveled. He was breathing just as hard as she was.
He glanced toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. “Bed?” he murmured, though his voice didn’t really reflect the lack of any real conviction to actually walk that far.
Winry reached up, tugging firmly on his collar to pull him down. Her voice was breathless and demanding. “Too far. Couch is enough.”
He obediently guided her back onto the cushions, but as he leaned over her, Winry realized something. She was entirely exposed against the fabric of the sofa, but Ed was still fully dressed in his shirt, vest and heavy trousers.
“Hey,” she panted, planting a flat palm against his chest to hold him back. “This is completely unfair. Why am I the only one naked here?”
Edward let out a low, husky laugh, his hands coming down to pin her wrists lightly against the couch. He looked down at her with a cocky, teasing smirk. “Well if it bothers you so much, Mrs Elric, do something about it. I’m not stopping you.”
He expected her to blush or hesitate, but years have shown Winry that she no longer had to play by those rules.
She pulled her hands free from his grip and grabbed the lapels of his shirt. She hadn’t bothered to neatly undo the buttons. She peeled the shirt off his shoulders, her hands moving down to his belt with the same efficient, fierce determination she used on a stubborn piece of machinery.
Suddenly, the swagger wiped clean off Ed’s face.
A red flush crept up his neck and flooded his cheeks as she unbuckled his pants and pushed them down his legs. She flipped their positions so she could take the lead this time.
Winry paused, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips as she looked down at his burning face. She leaned over him, letting her bare chest brush tantalizingly against his, enjoying the way his heart hammered against his ribs.
“What’s the matter, Mr Elric?” she purred, tracing a slow line down his hot cheek with her fingernail. “Turns out that big mouth of yours has its limits.”
Winry’s hands slid further down, her fingers hooking over the elastic waistband of his briefs. She didn’t pull them down just yet. Instead, her palms smoothed over the taut fabric, feeling the prominent shape straining restlessly underneath.
She let out a soft, low hum, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and desire. “Look at that,” she murmured, her thumb tracing the rigid length through the cotton. “Someone’s impatient.”
Ed inhaled sharply.
He could feel her breath brushing his ear. “Do you want me to give you back exactly what you just gave me, Ed?”
The question tore through his remaining composure. His jaw clamped tight. “Yes. Damn it, Winry, yes.”
Realizing he was completely at her mercy, Edward tried to sit upright, his hands reaching for her waist in a bid to slightly regain control.
“Nu-uh. You already said yes. Stay down,” Winry ordered, placing a flat palm against his chest and shoving him firmly back into the couch.
Before he could protest, she closed her hand directly around him over the fabric, cupping his heavy length. Ed let out a sharp, ragged groan, his hips arching into her palm against his will. Satisfied, Winry hooked her fingers into the elastic and slid the fabric down his thighs, freeing him completely into the warm air of the room.
She leaned over him, her hair falling like a golden curtain around them as she traced a slow, wet line with the tip of her tongue from the very base of his shaft all the way to the top.
The sliding heat made Ed’s head toss back against the sofa, his knuckles turning white as he buried his fists into the cushions.
Winry didn’t let him catch his breath. Her fingers wrapped tightly around his length to hold him steady while her other hand slid lower, her palm cupping his balls. She gave them a teasing squeeze. Ed whimpered, completely entranced by her touch.
Leaning lower, she swiped her tongue over the smooth, sensitive head of his penis, swirling around the crest to catch the bead of his arousal.
Before he could form a coherent thought, she parted her lips and took him in.
The engulfing friction made him gasp, his eyes tightly shutting as the intense heat of her throat welcomed him. Winry could hardly wait. She began to set a rhythm, bobbing her head to take him as deeply as she could manage.
Her hand at his base maintained a firm, squeezing pressure, sliding up and down his skin in a tight handjob that perfectly matched the downward stroke of her lips. All the while, her other hand remained nestled below, gently cradling his balls and keeping him entirely centered under her.
The sensation was borderline overwhelming—the slick glide of her hands, the heavy warmth around his balls, and the wet, swirling vacuum of her mouth. It didn’t help that his brain was only filled with the hitching sound of her and the mindless, desperate heat building between them. Oh, Ed was completely undone. His entire universe narrowed down to the agonising and cruel yet perfect pressure of her mouth wrapping around his cock.
His hips twitched up, chasing the engulfing warmth as his breath fractured into ragged gasps.
He was so close.
“Winry—fuck, Winry, wait,” Ed panted, his hands flying to her hair. He unconsciously pushed himself deeper into her mouth and his fingers tangled helplessly in the golden strands as the sensation was driving him toward the absolute edge. “S-slow down, I—I’m—”
Right at the highest peak, she pulled away.
Ed’s eyes flew open, his chest heaving as he tried to process the sudden, jarring stop. He felt completely exposed, shameful and throbbing in the sudden absence of her warmth.
“Wha—are you kidding me?” he rasped. There were no other feelings he could describe other than desperate and utterly frustrated.
She just sat back on her heels, a wicked smirk emerging as she wiped the corner of her lips with the back of her hand.
Oh.
So that’s how this was going to be.
His brow knitted as he shook his head, almost laughing at the sheer audacity of her. Fine. He’d make her pay for that later.
Right now, the relentless ache between his thighs left him incapable of thinking about anything else. He only knew one thing: he was going to fuck her senseless.
Grabbing her by the waist, Ed hauled Winry up from her knees and pressed her back into the plush cushions of the couch, earning a startled yelp from her.
As his shadow fell over her, Winry felt the rush of adrenaline and burning heat pool heavily in her core all over again.
She loved this specific, untamed dynamic between them—the way that even after years of marriage, his fierce, stubborn energy could still make her heart race. There was never a day where she didn’t feel fiercely alive and youthful with him.
Seeing the dazed, breathless look in her eyes, a smug smirk tugged at the corner of Ed’s mouth. He barely gave her a second to recover. He hooked his hands beneath her knees, driving her legs back toward her shoulders to completely open her up, and slid himself deep inside her in a single unforgiving thrust.
The sudden fullness was a total shock. Winry’s eyes widened, and a loud, entirely unfiltered moan escaped her lips. Realizing she had let her defenses completely drop, Winry drew her hands over her mouth to muffle herself—but Ed was faster. He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head against the back of the sofa.
He leaned down, his weight trapping her beneath him. She could see his golden eyes burning with dark satisfaction as he began to move inside her, a slow, deep rhythm.
“Not so cocky now, are you?” he drawled against her lips.
Winry swallowed hard and looked up at him and knew it was over. She gave up trying to slide her hands free from his grip. Instead, she just held on tightly to his wrists.
“Ugh, God,” she breathed. Her voice gave out on her completely. “You win. Please.”
Ed let out a sly, breathy laugh against her lips. “Wrong name, Winry. But I’ll give you a pass.”
His grip on her wrists tightened against the cushions as he shoved his hips forward. Winry arched off the sofa and the last thing she knew: everything blurred. The sheer depth of him left her utterly undone, each heavy thrust hitting her core until she couldn’t manage a full breath. She was crying out now—helpless, broken sounds that she couldn’t hold back.
Ed leaned down, slamming his mouth over hers to swallow her cries.
The kiss was messy and desperate, full of bruising heat. Their tongues tangled while his hips kept up that ruthless, driving pace below. Winry bit down on his lower lip, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist to pull him even deeper, drinking in his groans until neither of them had any air left.
He finally tore his mouth away, panting hard. His skin felt like fire. He could feel her inner muscles clamping around his shaft, squeezing him so hard that it dragged a grunt right out of his chest. He was moving on pure instinct.
Winry locked her thighs around his waist, pulling him down, her fingers clawing into his shoulders as the tension stretched to the breaking point.
There was no saving himself.
He drove in to the hilt. Winry shrieked his name as the climax hit her, her body locking up around him as he finally let go, spilling inside her breathlessly.
Then the world narrowed to the rough drag of his breathing against her throat. He fell forward, all his exhausted weight collapsing onto her as the sound of the rain outside gradually rushed back into the room.
Winry couldn’t move if she wanted to. She simply laid under his heavy frame, her muscles still twitching slightly. Suffice to say, her mind was completely wiped clean.
After a long while, her hand found its way into his tangled hair. She was breathing in Ed’s scent.
Ed stirred at the touch, lifting his head just enough to find her face in the dim light. He looked into her cerulean eyes. He then leaned down.
His lips found hers, light at first, before settling into a slow, heavy ache they both recognized. The way their lips fit together held the weight of every year they’d outlived—the quiet miracle of simply surviving long enough to end up here. Winry let out a soft sigh, her mouth parting as she pulled him down closer.
She clung to him, anchoring the whole of her life against the only heartbeat that had never changed.
He carefully broke the contact, resting his forehead against hers while his breathing finally began to level out.
“Couch is freezing,” he finally said.
“Yeah, I change my mind,” she whispered back as she cupped his jaw. “Bed?”
Ed laughed. Gathering what little strength he had left, he braced his hands against the cushions and shifted. He slipped his arms under her back and knees, lifting her clear off the sofa.
Winry just buried her face into the crook of his neck, her eyes already half-shut as he carried her toward their bedroom.
He tumbled onto the mattress with her, completely spent. Neither of them cared about the mess left behind in the living room or the clothes scattered on the floorboards. They just crawled beneath the heavy duvet, letting the chill of the house vanish the moment they pulled each other close. Ed wrapped his arm securely around her waist, locking her back flush against his chest.
Winry smiled into the dark, her fingers tangling with his under the blanket. Her thumb lazily traced the smooth curve of the gold band resting against his knuckle.
Ed had spent his boyhood trying to decode the very laws of creation, searching for truth in chalk circles and burning fires, stubborn in the belief that every ounce of joy had to be bought with an equal measure of pain. He had lived by the strict rules of equations.
But marriage wasn’t alchemy.
There was no equivalent exchange in the way they belonged to each other now. No toll to be paid to the universe, no sacrifice demanded to keep the balance. He no longer had to leave her to chase ghosts across the map.
They had promised each other half of their lives on that train station years ago. It was a sweet albeit clumsy offering that had long since grown into something absolute—something the law of equivalent exchange cannot entirely disprove.
Under the heavy duvet, his pulse slowed to a steady beat against her skin. The math of the world simply vanished in the dark.
They were just home, and they were completely whole.
The End