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He knew he was in trouble when Winry cornered him in the bathroom and flipped the lock on the door. The grin on her face, while pleasant, made it clear that she had something to tell him and that he was going to hear it if it was the last thing he did.
"Sit, Ed," she ordered, shoving his shoulder.
"Winry," he complained, "this can't be about –"
And in that one short moment, Winry hooked her fingers under her shirt hem and dragged the item over her head as if it had offended her.
Ed licked his lips, and wondered if she was really going to do what he thought she might. It took everything inside of him not to groan out loud when she started turning the knobs to the bathtub, waiting until the running water was just the right temperature before she plugged the drain.
This had all started with an argument over Ed's short showers. Winry saw bathing as a time to unwind, relax, and worry only about herself. Ed saw bathing as a necessity, pure and simple, and got no joy in drawing the process out any longer than it had to last.
"You need to learn how to appreciate the finer things, Ed," Winry informed him in a firm, patient tone. Then she reached behind herself, unhooked her bra, and dropped it on top of her shirt.
Ed's eyes lit up, and he started to stand before she gave him a withering look. "Sit down and watch."
Well if that's what she wanted. He leaned back, taking Winry in as she shimmied out of her pants and underwear, all in one go, and bent over to test the water before lifting one smooth, slim leg and stepping delicately into the tub.
"This is how you're supposed to do it." She sank into the tub until just her nose hovered above the surface of the water, her unbound hair soaking and spreading out around her.
Ed stared, utterly riveted, as she picked up a sponge and pulled it into the water, wringing it and dragged it across her chest. "When I'm in the bath," Winry told him in a quiet, husky, tone, "I can lay back and think about all the things that I don't always have time for during the day." He tore his eyes away from her breasts, only to find she was looking straight at him. "Like you."
And then the sponge started to move, and for every inch it moved down her body Ed's cock stiffened against his pants. Winry's eyes slid shut and her head fell back against the lip of the tub, and Ed strained to keep sight of exactly what her hand was doing.
However, the moment his hands started to move towards the zipper of his pants, desperate to find some sort of relief from the pressure, she opened her eyes and gazed at him accusingly. "Don't touch yourself," she ordered. "If you're doing that, then you're not paying attention to the lesson."
Ed nodded – anything to make her move again – and clenched his fists in his lap, licking his lips eagerly. She smiled impishly, relaxed back again, and continued. Ed called upon every single ounce of will power in his possession not to act: not to match her moan for moan, not to rip his own clothes off and join her, not to pull her out of the tub, carry her to the nearest bed, and finish the job himself.
All he could do was sit helplessly as Winry arched, her breasts momentarily rising above the line of water before dipping back down again, giving him only the smallest glimpse of her rosy nipples. Her breathing quickened, her legs shifted restlessly under the water, and finally, finally, she cried out, and he heard it: his name, whispered on the exhale.
He was breathing as hard as she was by the time she opened her eyes and stretched, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. "And that's how you take a proper bath." Winry grinned, lifting one leg out of the tub to dangle tantalizingly over the edge. "Would you like to take a bath now, Ed?"