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[FIC] FMA: Rationed Comfort
I think this must be the only 'real smut' I've written in... how long? And I used to be so much better at it too. -headdesk-
For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hughesathon.
Rationed Comfort
Characters/Pairing: Hughes/Roy
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2238
Summary: ‘… a little comfort now and then was far better than nothing at all.’ Ishbal War, manga canon. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
livetolove.
The door opened with a squeak of rusty hinges, and closed on a whimper.
Hughes looked up meeting dark eyes with hazel green. He saw Roy, who was standing stiff and overly-straight at the doorway, eyes trained straight at him and yet not really seeing him. Instantly, Maes knew what he was here for.
He waited, busying his hands by packing up his knives and the sharpening stone. His eyes never left Roy’s, a half-challenge hidden beneath dark lashes, even as he slid his knives up the sleeves of the blue starched military uniforms. He did not need to look, since he had done this far too many times already. He did not need to look so he didn’t.
Hughes simply waited with a dare in his grin and defiance in his half-lidded eyes. He had made his move, and now it was Roy’s turn. His best friend didn’t disappoint.
He felt himself being pushed back before he realized Roy had moved. The wood of the worktable cut into his hips, splinters poking uncomfortably into clothed flesh even as Roy kissed him in a way harder and even more unforgiving than the wood. A harsh reply to an obvious challenge.
Maes smiled into the kiss and felt his lips being bitten, a silent signal to hurry. He obliged, attacking Roy’s mouth with equal ferocity. Tongues tangled, and shivers of pleasure blossomed at his spine whenever they touch. He moaned softly, the soft sound disappearing in the warm cavern of Roy’s mouth, and slipped a hand up into his best friend’s hair in a secure grip.
He broke the kiss after a few minutes, once he realized rather belatedly that the sparks beneath his eyelids weren’t due to pleasure but to oxygen deprivation. He gasped, watching Roy pant noiselessly before asking, voice hoarse and breathless
“So. What brought this on?”
Roy shook his head, attacking his mouth again, fingers half-frantic as he tried to get his Maes’s military-issued fatigues off. Hughes kissed him back slowly in turn, stroking his tongue over the roof of Roy’s mouth, setting the pace. His hands didn’t try to still Roy’s fingers, however. He knew better than that.
It must be something really big, he thought, to get Roy so upset that he didn’t even bothered with questions.
His own hands busied themselves on Roy’s uniform, unbuttoning the navy blue coat and slipping it off Roy’s shoulders to expose the light blue shirt worn on the inside. His friend gasped, throwing his head back and exposing his throat. Maes couldn’t resist the invitation.
He pressed his lips onto the hollow of the offered throat, sucking slightly on the too-pale skin. Roy smelled of smoke and sulphur and, Maes realized as his tongue lapped gently at skin, tasted of salt and guilt.
Their shirts had both slipped off by then, and he could see pink and red scars all over Roy’s body, vivid among pale white skin. He traced one with a finger, turning his head up to kiss him again. Feeling fingers on his belt buckle, Maes reached down and stopped them, breaking off the kiss and shaking his head.
“Bed first.”
Roy nodded, pulling his fingers away from him and turned, walking towards the bunk bed without looking back, confident that he would follow. Maes smiled faintly, eyes slightly saddened as he watched his best friend, then followed.
They reached the room, although that was more of a corner of the tent covered by curtains than anything else, at a pace that was too fast and too slow at the same time. He felt himself pushed towards the bed, hands on his shoulder and hip. He hit the mattress with a soft squeak of the bedsprings and felt a piece of metal digging into his back through the too-thin mattress of the bunk bed.
Roy kissed him, soft and gentle; a startling contrast to the urgent hands Maes could feel unbuttoning his pants. He kissed Roy back, tongues meeting languidly. Sliding a hand into coal-black hair, he held Roy close even as he felt and heard (not watch) their pants dropping onto the dusty floor. The clink of the belt buckles echoed in the room, the only sound other than their half-muffled, barely audible breaths.
His mouth left Roy’s slowly, travelling down the jaw-line and peppering the slightly flushed skin with kisses along the way. He lavished special attention to the juncture between the neck and collarbone, suckling and kissing the sweaty skin. He knew from experience that it was one of Roy’s ‘pleasure spots’.
His hands weren’t idle either, pressing soft touches on his best-friend-turned-lover’s hips and inner thighs, circling around the erection he knew was there. He teased Roy with light touches and kisses, purposely avoiding the places that he knew the other man wanted to be touched most.
Roy moaned, the sound escaping dark, bitten lips. Maes smiled.
A hand slid into his hair, pulling his head up and away from the hollow of Roy’s collarbone. He blinked, smiling lopsidedly, pleased that the half-vacant, half-guilty expression Roy had worn had disappeared, replaced by frustration and desire.
The hand in his hair tightened almost painfully, and Roy’s lips pulled back into a snarl.
“Stop teasing and fuck me, Maes.”
Hughes smirked.
“Is that an order, Major Mustang?”
A pained look came into Roy’s eyes the very second the words left Maes’s mouth, and he instantly regretted them. But Roy squeezed his eyes shut, and when he reopened them, the look was gone.
A growl: “Yes, Captain Hughes.”
Maes smiled, and complied.
He pulled away from his best friend reluctantly, their lips breaking apart as he reached for the bottle he always kept under the bed. His fingers found plastic after a few seconds, and he triumphantly lifted the lubricant up, grinning as he brought it to eye view.
Roy watched him, dark eyes unblinking. His breaths escaped him in soft pants that instantly disappeared in the dry desert air. Maes watched him watch, flicking open the bottle cap and pouring too-cold oil onto his fingers. He rubbed his hands slowly, warming the liquid.
He knelt between Roy’s slowly spreading legs, tracing a finger from the base of Roy’s length down towards the puckered entrance that he knew would be there. Slowly, he pushed a well-slicked finger inside, stretching the tight ring of muscle.
Maes heard Roy gasp, a sharp inhale of air that would have gone unheard if not for the utter silence that surrounded them.
He started to thrust his finger shallowly in and out, making sure that the oil was spread evenly. Roy bucked his hips impatiently upwards, a silent signal that he immediately caught.
Withdrawing the finger, Maes pressed two inside before Roy could protest. He started to scissor them, thrusting again. His fingers crooked upwards to look for the bundle of nerves that he knew would make Roy writhe. And, after a few moments, he found it.
Roy gasped and arched his hips upwards, fingers clenching around the thin, military-issued blanket. Dark blue eyes met hazel-green, and a silent order was issued and obeyed.
Maes slid his fingers out fully with a soft ‘plop’, picking up the bottle of oil again. He poured a generous amount into his hands, slicking his own erection and biting his lower lip so as not to groan out load at the sensation of touch.
He gripped Roy’s hips and felt legs wrap around his waist. He raised his eyes; he met cobalt blue and smiled. He then closed his eyes and pushed, sinking into tight, clenching heat that seemed to mould around him. A soft breath escaped clenched teeth in a hiss.
He stopped when he felt himself buried to the hilt, eyes still shut as he waited, breath caught seemingly permanently in his throat. All he could recognize was the heat around him, and the overwhelming urge to thrust. But he held back, controlling himself until he felt Roy thrust back into him ever so slightly.
Maes adjusted his hands around Roy's hips, pulling back out until only the swollen head of his erection remained. Then, without a warning, he thrust back in.
Roy gasped, and then moaned as Maes started thrusting, hard and fast and harsh, a sharp contrast to the careful preparations earlier. He turned his head to the side, biting into the cloth of the mattress in an effort to lower the volume of his gasps. But Hughes wasn’t having any of that.
Maes leaned down, pressing his lips to Roy’s and muffling the gasps and moans with his own mouth. Tongues entwined and danced, shivers running down both men’s spines with every touch and every breath. The speed of the thrusts increased until all he knew was the burn starting from his groin and spreading throughout his body and the look in Roy’s eyes and he writhed and arched back into him, more relaxed and wanton than he was at any other time.
He reached a hand down and started to stroke Roy’s erection in time with the thrusts. His best friend moaned, the soft sound caught by Maes’s mouth. The bedsprings squeaked, and the bed rocked in time with their movements, and Maes could feel metal digging into the flesh of his knees. He couldn’t care less about the minor discomfort right now.
Maes threw his head back, panting through his mouth, his left hand still tight around Roy’s hips. He could feel muscles tightening below him, he could feel himself approaching climax and increased his pace. His hips snapped forward, the head of his erection touching that bundle of nerves that made Roy moan and squirm.
He didn’t know who climaxed first. He could only remember two voices crying wordlessly out at the same time, heat and warmth racing throughout his body and white light bursting behind his eyes.
--
Maes groped for the tissues he kept beside his bunk, cleaning both him and Roy up even as he kissed Roy again, slowly this time, allowing himself time to actually enjoy the taste of his best friend without the need to rush. The used tissues were thrown to the floor without ceremony. He would clean up later.
His hands wrapped around Roy’s waist, drawing him close. He felt ridiculously pleased when he realized, not for the first time, that Roy’s head fit perfectly against the curve of his own jaw.
“What brought this on? Not that I’m complaining, mind you…” His voice was soft, half-soothing and half-questioning as he repeated his previous inquiry.
Roy’s reply was a whisper that almost went unheard, “I received my first assignment today.”
Hughes’s blood ran cold and he instantly knew what was wrong. Somehow, he managed to keep his voice casual when he spoke.
“What happened?”
“’Alchemy is for the people’…” Roy quoted in a soft, monotonous whisper. “My alchemy is for setting people on fire and killing them, then.” He laughed, a dry, self-deprecating chuckle that was bordering on hysterical.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…”
A shake of a head, and short black hair tickled the skin of Maes’s throat.
“They were defenceless… None of them even had any weapons; they couldn’t even fight even if they want to. All of them are women and children, because all of the men are either killed by us or in war with us. I killed them all. All of them.” Roy’s breath hitched, and he stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing on.
“It’s not just one village or camp, Maes. I killed a city. And there was nothing left in the end except the damn smell of sulphur and carbon because fire, my fire, turned everything else into ash. Proteins and calcium carbonate and silicon in the presence of oxygen react with fire to form carbon and carbon dioxide and sulphur dioxide and explosions.” Roy’s voice was hysterical, a monotone underlined with panic and guilt.
Maes didn’t understand, not completely, but he didn’t try to. He was silent, offering comfort with the warmth of his arms around his best friend and pretended not to notice that Roy was shivering, nearly convulsing at the mere memory of the ‘assignment’.
He untangled a hand from Roy, raising it to stroke the other man’s hair slowly. Lowering his head, he whispered cliché words of comfort into the shell of Roy’s ear.
“It’s over. It’s alright now. You’re safe, you’re here with me and it’s safe now. It’s over. It wasn’t your fault. Everything’s just fine now. It wasn’t your fault…”
His words were half-lies, and Maes almost hated himself for lying to Roy, but he knew that right now, it was the only comfort he could give. However, he also knew that it was that small bit of comfort that helped them to stay human during this too-long, too-bloody war.
It was only a tiny bit of comfort, worthless words that were forgotten the next day, the next hour, rushed sex that brought relief and maybe friendship but not love. It was only a few hours of escape from the guilt and the nightmares, a day at most away from the ‘assignments’ that the higher-ups bestowed.
It was comfort rationed out until there was almost nothing left, but, Maes realized, listening to Roy’s slow, steady breathing as he fell into uneasy sleep, that a little comfort now and then was far better than nothing at all.
End
For the
hughesathon.Rationed Comfort
Characters/Pairing: Hughes/Roy
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2238
Summary: ‘… a little comfort now and then was far better than nothing at all.’ Ishbal War, manga canon. For
livetolove.The door opened with a squeak of rusty hinges, and closed on a whimper.
Hughes looked up meeting dark eyes with hazel green. He saw Roy, who was standing stiff and overly-straight at the doorway, eyes trained straight at him and yet not really seeing him. Instantly, Maes knew what he was here for.
He waited, busying his hands by packing up his knives and the sharpening stone. His eyes never left Roy’s, a half-challenge hidden beneath dark lashes, even as he slid his knives up the sleeves of the blue starched military uniforms. He did not need to look, since he had done this far too many times already. He did not need to look so he didn’t.
Hughes simply waited with a dare in his grin and defiance in his half-lidded eyes. He had made his move, and now it was Roy’s turn. His best friend didn’t disappoint.
He felt himself being pushed back before he realized Roy had moved. The wood of the worktable cut into his hips, splinters poking uncomfortably into clothed flesh even as Roy kissed him in a way harder and even more unforgiving than the wood. A harsh reply to an obvious challenge.
Maes smiled into the kiss and felt his lips being bitten, a silent signal to hurry. He obliged, attacking Roy’s mouth with equal ferocity. Tongues tangled, and shivers of pleasure blossomed at his spine whenever they touch. He moaned softly, the soft sound disappearing in the warm cavern of Roy’s mouth, and slipped a hand up into his best friend’s hair in a secure grip.
He broke the kiss after a few minutes, once he realized rather belatedly that the sparks beneath his eyelids weren’t due to pleasure but to oxygen deprivation. He gasped, watching Roy pant noiselessly before asking, voice hoarse and breathless
“So. What brought this on?”
Roy shook his head, attacking his mouth again, fingers half-frantic as he tried to get his Maes’s military-issued fatigues off. Hughes kissed him back slowly in turn, stroking his tongue over the roof of Roy’s mouth, setting the pace. His hands didn’t try to still Roy’s fingers, however. He knew better than that.
It must be something really big, he thought, to get Roy so upset that he didn’t even bothered with questions.
His own hands busied themselves on Roy’s uniform, unbuttoning the navy blue coat and slipping it off Roy’s shoulders to expose the light blue shirt worn on the inside. His friend gasped, throwing his head back and exposing his throat. Maes couldn’t resist the invitation.
He pressed his lips onto the hollow of the offered throat, sucking slightly on the too-pale skin. Roy smelled of smoke and sulphur and, Maes realized as his tongue lapped gently at skin, tasted of salt and guilt.
Their shirts had both slipped off by then, and he could see pink and red scars all over Roy’s body, vivid among pale white skin. He traced one with a finger, turning his head up to kiss him again. Feeling fingers on his belt buckle, Maes reached down and stopped them, breaking off the kiss and shaking his head.
“Bed first.”
Roy nodded, pulling his fingers away from him and turned, walking towards the bunk bed without looking back, confident that he would follow. Maes smiled faintly, eyes slightly saddened as he watched his best friend, then followed.
They reached the room, although that was more of a corner of the tent covered by curtains than anything else, at a pace that was too fast and too slow at the same time. He felt himself pushed towards the bed, hands on his shoulder and hip. He hit the mattress with a soft squeak of the bedsprings and felt a piece of metal digging into his back through the too-thin mattress of the bunk bed.
Roy kissed him, soft and gentle; a startling contrast to the urgent hands Maes could feel unbuttoning his pants. He kissed Roy back, tongues meeting languidly. Sliding a hand into coal-black hair, he held Roy close even as he felt and heard (not watch) their pants dropping onto the dusty floor. The clink of the belt buckles echoed in the room, the only sound other than their half-muffled, barely audible breaths.
His mouth left Roy’s slowly, travelling down the jaw-line and peppering the slightly flushed skin with kisses along the way. He lavished special attention to the juncture between the neck and collarbone, suckling and kissing the sweaty skin. He knew from experience that it was one of Roy’s ‘pleasure spots’.
His hands weren’t idle either, pressing soft touches on his best-friend-turned-lover’s hips and inner thighs, circling around the erection he knew was there. He teased Roy with light touches and kisses, purposely avoiding the places that he knew the other man wanted to be touched most.
Roy moaned, the sound escaping dark, bitten lips. Maes smiled.
A hand slid into his hair, pulling his head up and away from the hollow of Roy’s collarbone. He blinked, smiling lopsidedly, pleased that the half-vacant, half-guilty expression Roy had worn had disappeared, replaced by frustration and desire.
The hand in his hair tightened almost painfully, and Roy’s lips pulled back into a snarl.
“Stop teasing and fuck me, Maes.”
Hughes smirked.
“Is that an order, Major Mustang?”
A pained look came into Roy’s eyes the very second the words left Maes’s mouth, and he instantly regretted them. But Roy squeezed his eyes shut, and when he reopened them, the look was gone.
A growl: “Yes, Captain Hughes.”
Maes smiled, and complied.
He pulled away from his best friend reluctantly, their lips breaking apart as he reached for the bottle he always kept under the bed. His fingers found plastic after a few seconds, and he triumphantly lifted the lubricant up, grinning as he brought it to eye view.
Roy watched him, dark eyes unblinking. His breaths escaped him in soft pants that instantly disappeared in the dry desert air. Maes watched him watch, flicking open the bottle cap and pouring too-cold oil onto his fingers. He rubbed his hands slowly, warming the liquid.
He knelt between Roy’s slowly spreading legs, tracing a finger from the base of Roy’s length down towards the puckered entrance that he knew would be there. Slowly, he pushed a well-slicked finger inside, stretching the tight ring of muscle.
Maes heard Roy gasp, a sharp inhale of air that would have gone unheard if not for the utter silence that surrounded them.
He started to thrust his finger shallowly in and out, making sure that the oil was spread evenly. Roy bucked his hips impatiently upwards, a silent signal that he immediately caught.
Withdrawing the finger, Maes pressed two inside before Roy could protest. He started to scissor them, thrusting again. His fingers crooked upwards to look for the bundle of nerves that he knew would make Roy writhe. And, after a few moments, he found it.
Roy gasped and arched his hips upwards, fingers clenching around the thin, military-issued blanket. Dark blue eyes met hazel-green, and a silent order was issued and obeyed.
Maes slid his fingers out fully with a soft ‘plop’, picking up the bottle of oil again. He poured a generous amount into his hands, slicking his own erection and biting his lower lip so as not to groan out load at the sensation of touch.
He gripped Roy’s hips and felt legs wrap around his waist. He raised his eyes; he met cobalt blue and smiled. He then closed his eyes and pushed, sinking into tight, clenching heat that seemed to mould around him. A soft breath escaped clenched teeth in a hiss.
He stopped when he felt himself buried to the hilt, eyes still shut as he waited, breath caught seemingly permanently in his throat. All he could recognize was the heat around him, and the overwhelming urge to thrust. But he held back, controlling himself until he felt Roy thrust back into him ever so slightly.
Maes adjusted his hands around Roy's hips, pulling back out until only the swollen head of his erection remained. Then, without a warning, he thrust back in.
Roy gasped, and then moaned as Maes started thrusting, hard and fast and harsh, a sharp contrast to the careful preparations earlier. He turned his head to the side, biting into the cloth of the mattress in an effort to lower the volume of his gasps. But Hughes wasn’t having any of that.
Maes leaned down, pressing his lips to Roy’s and muffling the gasps and moans with his own mouth. Tongues entwined and danced, shivers running down both men’s spines with every touch and every breath. The speed of the thrusts increased until all he knew was the burn starting from his groin and spreading throughout his body and the look in Roy’s eyes and he writhed and arched back into him, more relaxed and wanton than he was at any other time.
He reached a hand down and started to stroke Roy’s erection in time with the thrusts. His best friend moaned, the soft sound caught by Maes’s mouth. The bedsprings squeaked, and the bed rocked in time with their movements, and Maes could feel metal digging into the flesh of his knees. He couldn’t care less about the minor discomfort right now.
Maes threw his head back, panting through his mouth, his left hand still tight around Roy’s hips. He could feel muscles tightening below him, he could feel himself approaching climax and increased his pace. His hips snapped forward, the head of his erection touching that bundle of nerves that made Roy moan and squirm.
He didn’t know who climaxed first. He could only remember two voices crying wordlessly out at the same time, heat and warmth racing throughout his body and white light bursting behind his eyes.
--
Maes groped for the tissues he kept beside his bunk, cleaning both him and Roy up even as he kissed Roy again, slowly this time, allowing himself time to actually enjoy the taste of his best friend without the need to rush. The used tissues were thrown to the floor without ceremony. He would clean up later.
His hands wrapped around Roy’s waist, drawing him close. He felt ridiculously pleased when he realized, not for the first time, that Roy’s head fit perfectly against the curve of his own jaw.
“What brought this on? Not that I’m complaining, mind you…” His voice was soft, half-soothing and half-questioning as he repeated his previous inquiry.
Roy’s reply was a whisper that almost went unheard, “I received my first assignment today.”
Hughes’s blood ran cold and he instantly knew what was wrong. Somehow, he managed to keep his voice casual when he spoke.
“What happened?”
“’Alchemy is for the people’…” Roy quoted in a soft, monotonous whisper. “My alchemy is for setting people on fire and killing them, then.” He laughed, a dry, self-deprecating chuckle that was bordering on hysterical.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…”
A shake of a head, and short black hair tickled the skin of Maes’s throat.
“They were defenceless… None of them even had any weapons; they couldn’t even fight even if they want to. All of them are women and children, because all of the men are either killed by us or in war with us. I killed them all. All of them.” Roy’s breath hitched, and he stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing on.
“It’s not just one village or camp, Maes. I killed a city. And there was nothing left in the end except the damn smell of sulphur and carbon because fire, my fire, turned everything else into ash. Proteins and calcium carbonate and silicon in the presence of oxygen react with fire to form carbon and carbon dioxide and sulphur dioxide and explosions.” Roy’s voice was hysterical, a monotone underlined with panic and guilt.
Maes didn’t understand, not completely, but he didn’t try to. He was silent, offering comfort with the warmth of his arms around his best friend and pretended not to notice that Roy was shivering, nearly convulsing at the mere memory of the ‘assignment’.
He untangled a hand from Roy, raising it to stroke the other man’s hair slowly. Lowering his head, he whispered cliché words of comfort into the shell of Roy’s ear.
“It’s over. It’s alright now. You’re safe, you’re here with me and it’s safe now. It’s over. It wasn’t your fault. Everything’s just fine now. It wasn’t your fault…”
His words were half-lies, and Maes almost hated himself for lying to Roy, but he knew that right now, it was the only comfort he could give. However, he also knew that it was that small bit of comfort that helped them to stay human during this too-long, too-bloody war.
It was only a tiny bit of comfort, worthless words that were forgotten the next day, the next hour, rushed sex that brought relief and maybe friendship but not love. It was only a few hours of escape from the guilt and the nightmares, a day at most away from the ‘assignments’ that the higher-ups bestowed.
It was comfort rationed out until there was almost nothing left, but, Maes realized, listening to Roy’s slow, steady breathing as he fell into uneasy sleep, that a little comfort now and then was far better than nothing at all.
End