A/N: Companion piece to 'Procrastination', the other RoyEd in a page oneshot. This one, I got from an absolutely beautiful picture of a (clothed) Edward in a bath of roses with Roy holding him as I describe. More of my feeble attempts at sensuality~

~Naoko

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Bath of Roses

Edward couldn't imagine Mustang to be the all out erotic type. Sure, the man talks sweet—to both genders—but how bad, the blonde wonders, following the much taller man up the wooden stairs, could it be? It takes Edward a bit longer to follow, but when he arrives on the second floor, no one is there…

Strong arms wrap around his whole body from behind, Roy's voice is somehow in his ear, despite the height difference. Close your eyes for me, Edward… he purrs. Something velvety is brought up to the blonde's nose; he inhales to discover the heavy, aphrosidiac scent of a rose. Against himself, something hot spikes in two directions from his heart, one end sinks into his abdomen, the other escapes his throat as a hot moan. Willingly, his golden eyes close like setting suns, coated by the nighttime sky of lashes slightly too long to be outright masculine. Something thin replaces Mustang's arms, though its grip provides no more slack. It twines around him, sensual as the rose he now holds in hands bound by rope. Edward realizes he should be pissed by now. How in the hell that bastard wormed him into this shameless bondage with just a silly flower is completely beyond him. But he's enthralled and fascinated by the adult sensation it gives him, and he allows himself to be picked up bridal style, hungering for more.

The erotic and heady scent of the flora Edward clutches is multiplied tenfold as he's carried into what he can only assume to be the bathroom. Millitary-issue boots clunk on tile floors, and a lithe body is placed into a tub of hot liquid. Edward shoots up in shock as water devours and fills his clothing with itself, much as Roy does when they have sex. The raven-haired man chuckles from somewhere behind his little alchemist's head, and his hands take the braided length of gold into their cradling embrace. I almost forgot… he murmurs gently, he could've been talking to a small child if it weren't for the sensual undertone. Deft fingers unbraid the locks, and they tumble loose down Edward's back and strands tease the areas where the cool porcelain of the tub meets the heat of the water and the blonde's own body. Something thick coats the surface of the liquid and overflows onto the floor. Edward brushes against it gingerly with his real hand and realizes the tub has been coated with roses. Swishing the water, he idly imagines the bloodred pigments of the flower diffusing into pink liquid, like a tease at the Philosopher's Stone at the price of countless carefully snapped stems. Roy's head comes to rest on top of his own. One hand travels south towards Edward's stomach, but stops near his elbow. The other cups the blonde's cheek from above, fingers tangle in wet golden locks as the wings of a flaming raven come to rest in murder by murder on top of the soaking sun.

Later, they both lie in the tub. The water has turned cool, much of it has sloshed out and over the floor, pinkness soaking their long-since discarded clothing while the scent of roses echo and whisper around them both.