Rakete

Title: Rakete
Type:
PWP, drabble
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Alfons/...
model rocket. >_>; and implied Hei/Ed
Warnings:
Smut

A/N:
This is... sort of crack. And mostly fap. * Facepalms forever*
Godwhy.

~~~;~;~;~;~;~;~;~~~

Alfons' clothes are a mess. His pants lie on the floor in a heap,
his shirt still has a few stray buttons done up, leaving most of his
chest exposed. His shorts are still on, and he only had the patience
to pull them down enough to get his erection out. The boy had
clearly been in a rush when he'd stumbled into his bedroom, lube
and... rocket? in hand, practically falling over himself to
lock himself up in the bedroom.

But now he's finally getting what he wants. A strained groan
cuts through the air while he presses the slick metal against his
body. He knows he should stretch himself first, but he needs it, and
as long as he's slow...

“Ah, Gott!” he bites out, shaking slightly as the
tapered end slides into his body. Panting, his free hand curls into
the sheet, making a tight fist. Deep breaths calm him down, he moves
slowly and the burn fades. Inch by inch, it only feels better.

A smirk pulls at his lips; his mind flits to Edward for a brief
moment. What would his roommate think if he came home to see Alfons
getting off with, of all things, a rocket inside of himself?
Well, he did love them, he did spend his days dedicated to
them... It was only fair that the rockets gave back once in a while,
wasn't it? Sure, they'd give back something much bigger one day, but
that could take years and this... this was fun, wrong, it was
one small sin that he could allow himself in his simple life. He
didn't indulge in many things, but this...

“Edward...”

Imagination leads the horrified expression that would be on Ed's face
to turn into a look of lust. Oh, the boy would walk right over to
him, one gloved hand reaching without any hesitation to touch and
push and press the toy even further inside of Alfons. Not that
Edward would need permission, no, Alfons would let him do whatever he
wished.

Moving along with his fantasy, Alfons arches up. The base of the
rocket is wider, it spreads him open more and he has to bite down on
his fist to silence a cry; Gracia can't hear him downstairs, can't
know what he's doing. The urge to moan, to make any sort of noise he
can is overwhelming when he finally angles the rocket to drag over
his prostate with each thrust, making his body shake.

Edward would lean over him, whisper in English--Amestrian, he still
insists on calling it. Alfons shivers hard and swears he can feel
his friend's breath on his ear and that it isn't just his
imagination.

Alfons finally lowers his hand from his mouth, he wraps it around his
cock, squeezing and stroking, gliding easily over his slick, hard
length. Suddenly, he lets a small cry slip out and bites his tongue.
Close. A second later, he arches up, forcing the rocket in
deep while his orgasm hits. He whimpers as he comes over his stomach
and chest, all but drenching his shirt in cum, then groans and
collapses once he's finally spent.

Exhausted, Alfons mind starts to wander again and he can't help but
think... surely, everyone had some little kink or secret like this.
He wonders what Edward's might be.