Do Not Disturb

The first thing he was aware of, when he came aware at all, was a languid, steady pressure on his front. Wonderful, luxurious pressure, fanning tendrils of warmth up through his belly as it slid back and forth against him. He groaned and arched, seeking more, and the flickers of pleasure became flame, lapping hard at the base of his spine.

So. Nice.

He was dimly aware something was moving against him, that he himself was clinging to it, but cognition was still distant. Perception too abstract. It felt more like he was hanging on to the tail end of a dream, a nice one, and he clenched down and tried to ride it for as long as it would carry him.

The picture started to resolved into person, into soft nuzzling at the base of his forehead, and Alfons keened, pressed his own face forward to find skin, softness. He mumbled praise softly, gasped at the feel of his own lips smooshed back into themselves. Something squirming, something warm, and he rubbed his face back and forth just feeling.

They rocked together unhurriedly, pushed up and together, and the warmth in his belly grew heavy and thick, became tangible. Hard. He slit his eyes open ever so slightly to look, vaguely aware this was not quite a dream, and saw nothing but flesh - the crux of a neck - the glimmer of what might have been hair, if it weren\'t so fine and pretty that it looked like straw spun to gold. Alfons blinked muzzily.

Gold.

Blonde.

SHIT.

He jerked hard and surfaced, broke free from dream-state into a state of pure terror. Icy terror replaced the arousal that had been heating his lower half; he shuddered and flushed, horrified. He did not, could not, would not, but had to, look up at Edward\'s face.

Please let him not be awake. Please, let him not be awake.

Edward was awake.

\"Alfons...\" And god he was so beautiful with hair stuck in his mouth, eyes not quite focused. What the hell did he say!? There had to be a million excuses, they were both half asleep, I thought it was a dream!, but Alfons could manage none of them. His guilt burned heavy between his legs.

Edward\'s eyes widened.

\"Oh fuck, I\'m sorry!\" Edward hissed, and scrambled backward. In his panic, he seemed to have forgotten the edge, forgotten his limbless state. And he knew he shouldn\'t touch him (how could he, the man was trying to flee him while crippled!?), but he could not stop it. It was immediate, instinctual. A part of him would rather die than let Edward fall. He lashed out and caught the man\'s shoulder, pulled as hard as he could to keep him righted.

Edward reached the same conclusion around the same time and heaved with his middle (so strong, he could throw himself over with his torso alone!), and somehow between the two of them he managed to flop back onto safe ground, panting. And touching. Alfons wanted to tear his arm away, but Edward had rolled up on it. There was nothing he could do.

\"Thanks.\" Edward gasped. \"That would have sucked.\"

Alfons nodded mutely. What was he supposed to say?

\"I couldn\'t let you fall.\" It was the only thing that came to mind. It was the only thing true.

Edward squirmed a bit on his arm and Alfons bit his lip, wished it would just end already. He could practically count the moments to his death, and the worst part of it was, somewhere in the back of his head he didn\'t mind: Edward was wiggling against him.

\"Fuck, I deserved it.\" Edward said darkly instead, an admission that only brought confusion.

\"What?\"

Edward jerked his head up, startled. \"You weren\'t awake when-\"

Alfons panicked. \"I thought you weren\'t!\"

\"Fucking hell.\" Edward swore. \"Well, damn. I bet you think I\'m the asshole of the universe, right about now, don\'t you?\" He chuckled, a horrible, dead sound.

\"No.\" Alfons said automatically, alarmed. \"Why would you say that, of course I don\'t-\" But inside, a hot feeling had blossomed, a powerful sense of relief singing through his veins. It was not, exactly, hope. \"Hope\" was too high-concept. This was more reflexive than that.

\"But I--I sort of started messing with you--\"

\"I messed with you first!\" And Alfons could see the relief he felt mirrored on his friend\'s face, and that made it surge twice as strongly. Made him rough and fool-hardy. He reached out and just grasped, needing to both hold and be held, and Edward made a strangled sort of noise and fell into him, grasping back.

Edward clutched at him with his solitary arm, like he wasn\'t sure what he should be doing with it; Alfons realized his own hands were kneading uselessly at Edward\'s back. Warm, hard; Edward was hard, and Alfons keened out loud as they both tried to arch at exactly the same time. Relief, there was so much relief; Edward was hard and he was hard, and they both were just fisting at each other\'s clothing, because they didn\'t have to worry who was at fault when they both were mutually interested.

Still a dream. Alfons thought giddily as Edward tried to climb his thigh like a tree trunk, though he knew it was not. He was very certain none his dreams had captured precisely how strange it was to have a mere stump of someone\'s leg scrabbling at him - nor how intoxicating it was to smell sleep on Edward\'s hair, and sex. He inhaled deeply and thought he might die of spontaneous combustion. It was the same musk he remembered from having Edward on top of him.

That thought held attraction, and he slowly, agonizingly shifted in that direction, tipping them both back until it was so. Edward buried his face firmly in Alfons\'s throat, either too embarrassed or too turned on and confused to look at him. That was just fine with Alfons. It was hard enough to breathe.

Edward must have realized it too, because he tried to lift himself off, slid his sole leg and arm down on either side in a vain attempt to shift his weight.

\"Alfons? Alfons, are you okay? Cause I can-\"

They were so close. God, they were so close. He could die right now, and it would all be alright. Shaking fingers found his temple, chased off a bead of sweat they found there; Alfons responded by doing the thing he had not earlier dared - he slid a hand cautiously along the ridge of Edward\'s back, and then up, beneath those mocking pajamas. Edward bucked into him, reflexively, and Alfons hissed. The rub against his own cock was maddening, he needed more of it. Now.

He grabbed Edward\'s hips and tried to drag the man lower, needing their respective hard-ons to meet so badly it was nearly biological imperative. Edward made a questioning noise but followed the motion, shimmied across Alfons\'s front in a manner that seriously threatened to kill him. There was a hard lump pressed against his hip, his belly, and then oh holy mother of god that was good, right in front. Dimly, Alfons recognized that Edward was also making all kinds of strangled noises. Odd, that. He wasn\'t even the one getting crushed.

His hands were obsessed with Edward\'s sides, the hard muscle of the man\'s flanks, and that was where he let them play; his mind and most of his air were solidly located in his nether regions. Alfons pushed back as much as he could manage, but there was only so much he could do against the unyielding force that was Edward. He settled simply for hanging on, focusing on the sharp jerk of Edward\'s hips against his, the unbelievable hard-hot-pressure of Edward\'s groin rubbing over his, and then he was clamping his hands down like they\'d closed on electric wire, because his whole body was tensing and he couldn\'t...quite...

Alfons had never felt that when he came he glimpsed the edge of something fearsome and great, like the great writers said, but when his vision stuttered out and in on Edward, he somehow thought he understood the sentiment.

He collapsed in a sweaty heap, gasping for air, and vaguely thought that he was somehow being incredibly unfair. Edward was still thrusting against him desperately, making throaty little noises, and Alfons found he couldn\'t even muster the energy to keep holding his arms up. It took Herculean effort to get even one of them to stay on Edward\'s waist, and even that was slipping. He was a bad lay, he told himself. A good one would at least be gracious enough not to fall asleep.

It apparently didn\'t matter, though. Edward didn\'t seem to notice because he was also painfully close - his entire body had gone rigid against Alfons, and he was quivering with the tension. It was a good thing he\'d just come, Alfons thought fuzzily, because if he hadn\'t Edward\'s expression would have him agonizingly hard.

\"Alfons-\" Edward choked out, needlessly trying to warn him.

\"Yes.\" Alfons slurred, running that solitary, sweat-drenched hand up under Edward\'s shirt. \"Go ahead. Come for me.\"

That seemed to do it - Edward snapped once, twice, three times against him, then went boneless on a wail. Alfons stirred uncomfortably beneath the sudden dead-weight, and not entirely because it was restricting his air. He was momentarily afraid the sight had woken dead soldiers, against all biology.

But the moment passed, and he found himself instead with a mouthful of hair and an armful of Edward, who was not getting any less sticky or heavy as the minutes progressed.

\"Hey,\" he mumbled, trying to nudge Edward off. Edward made a noise something like a disgruntled animal.

\"Heavy.\" He tried again. One-word sentences, those were good. This time Edward consented to shift, flopped down at his side and curled up like the cat who\'d gotten the cream.

Life, life was good.

Dimly, he was aware that they were going to need washcloths or something, but the bathroom was currently light-years away. He settled for stripping off his pajama bottoms and wiping with those instead, then balled them up and hurled them off the bed. They could do the laundry later, too. For now, he sincerely needed sleep.

Edward watched him through half-slitted eyes, a glimmer of interest peeking out at the corners. \"Mmmm...warm.\" He mumbled sleepily as he removed his own pajama pants, went through with the cleaning. Alfons shivered a little as he thought about the implications of half-naked Edward lying next to him, but no, despite his earlier fears it was really still too soon. He pulled the twisted covers up and snuggled closer, relishing simply in the fact that he was so close.

\"Dream\'d about this.\" Edward slurred.

\"I know.\" Alfons said.

Edward cracked his eyes open wider, blearily. He was nearly asleep. \"Huh?\"

\"I dreamed about it too.\" Alfons replied smoothly, and settled in to sleep.

::i can hear you sing it to me in my sleep::