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rajTitle: Fifteen Days in the Life
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raja815
Pairing/Fandom:Jean Havoc/ Roy Mustang, Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG to NC-17
Word Count: 15 hundred-word drabbles
Warnings Spoilers for chapter 38 of the manga, fluff, sexual content
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
This was the most fun I've had since finals started- a game of prompts between myself andgaluxkitty that resulted in each of us producing a separate set of 15 Jean/Roy drabbles. We each prompted each other, and she deserves much kudos for some of the weird things I threw her... These are for you, GK, babe. *love*. Read here awesome ones here.
1. “Utterly Impossible”
Roy’s body trembled, mouth drown into a determined, tight line as he struggled to keep silent, as impossible as that seemed just now that Jean’s fingers were brushing his prostate with every swift, teasing stroke. But damnit, he was NOT going to lose this bet; he could keep silent, it was-
Jean’s lips closed over his cock, pulling back and forth with a rhythm concurrent to the thrusts of his fingers. His other hand thumbed roughly at Roy’s nipple.
Oh, fuck.
“GOD, JEAN!” Roy screamed, coming hard into Jean’s mouth.
Jean licked his lips and grinned. “Looks like I win.”
2. “Fruit Salad”
Roy leaped back in surprise as the orange he was attempting to peel suddenly squirted a thick stream of juice directly into his face.
“You know, boss, you really don’t have to help me…” Jean laughed from the counter, putting down his knife and wiping the pear juice off his fingers. He closed the distance between them, and licked a drop off Roy’s cheek. He traced the sweet, sticky trail to Roy’s lips and kissed him.
The taste of orange mixed with the essences of the other fruit they’d each sampled, and suddenly the matter of cooking was entirely forgotten.
3. “Sheer Gold”
Jean could see his reflection in the depths of Roy’s eyes as his lover blinked sleepily in the early morning sunlight, the selfsame light reflecting off Jean’s hair, transformed into a sheer gold flicker at the edge of Roy’s iris.
He watched this shimmer as Roy rolled over on top of him, watched the reflection off himself that seemed an inherent part of his lover as he kissed him with open eyes and ground against him, the traces of lube on his cock from last night easing the friction.
Jean watched himself come in Roy’s eyes and felt oddly complete.
4. “Use the Blues”
Roy had never felt a particular fondness for music. He heard operas or danced if that’s what his dates wanted, but always in a rather passive manner.
When Jean moved in, despite the blond’s complete void of talent in the vocal department—to hell with a bucket, he couldn’t carry a tune in a wheelbarrow—Roy still found himself humming the tunes Jean loved, the soft, jazzy blues and simple hooks, to himself at first, and then singing them under his breath to Jean as he slept in the afterglow of their lovemaking, singing words that he never allowed himself to say.
5. “Minutes to midnight”
Nights seemed shorter spent with Roy. Before, he’d often sat hours at home, alone, just smoking and listening to song after song on the radio until it got late enough to go to bed.
Now with Roy’s clock ticking away the final minutes to midnight, it seemed like no time at all. Roy licked up and down his cock, making him moan and beg before finally closing his lips and engulfing Jean in soft, slick heat, back and forth, tight, slide, breath and ahh…
He tasted himself on Roy when they kissed, and thought the night couldn’t last long enough.
6. “Hereditary”
Jean’s blue eyes came from his mother and his blond hair and double-jointed thumbs from his father. He got his long face from his grandmother and his height from his great-granddad.
Roy’s dark hair and eyes and elegant features were his mother’s—once the most beautiful woman in Amestris—and his build and ambition were his dad’s. He shared personality with one sister, looks with a second, and stature with a third.
Over the spread of family photo albums on Roy’s coffee table, they stroked cheekbones, lips, ears, eyebrows, each mapping out his lover’s separate past here in their shared present.
7. “Intoxication”
For his size, Jean really didn’t hold his booze well at all. He stumbled over his feet, sang even more off-key than normal, and Breda would tell anyone who wanted to listen (no one) about the time they’d finally scored a double date with those red-headed twins and Jean had wrecked it by puking all over the poor girls’ shoes on the way home from the bar.
“You drink too fast is the problem. You have to pace yourself,” Roy mumbled, as he lapped the bourbon out of his lover’s navel, making Jean’s cock twitch. “Make it last. Enjoy it…”
8. “Hospital”
One day, during his physiotherapy, the therapist opened the window just as the groundkeeper lit a match to burn the pile of raked leaves on the front lawn, and the sudden flash and smell of ash sent a wave of longing so sharp into his stomach that his hands shook on the bars he gripped.
The therapist told him he looked pale; did it hurt? Was he sick?
Jean found he couldn’t answer.
Later, back in his hospital bed, eyes clenched tight, he breathed as deeply as he could, hoping against hope to catch that smell—Roy’s smell—on the evening breeze.
9. “The Name of Love”
They didn’t use pet names; there wasn’t any need. It was enough of a thrill, after years of ‘sir,’ ‘colonel,’ and ‘lieutenant’ to call each other by name. It was good to say them, their given names, in time with the rhythmic creak of the box springs.
“God, Roy, that feels so good…”
“Oh, Jean…“
“Ahh, Roy—“
“Jean. Mmm, Jean…”
It was even better in the afterglow, when they didn’t even need first names.
“Love you.”
“I love you too.”
And it was best, as they fell asleep in each other’s arms, when they no longer needed words at all.
10. Picnic
“It really is pretty,” Roy muttered, looking out over the country where Jean had grown up.
“It is, isn’t it?” Jean murmured, and Roy turned to his lover only to leap back in surprise when he found Jean’s face, upside-down, directly next to his ear.
Jean laughed as Roy’s eyes widened, before reaching up to the tree limb he was now hanging upside down from and plucking two apples.
“What’s this?” Roy asked, as Jean, rather gracefully for a man of his size, somersaulted from the limb back to the ground beside his lover.
“Picnic,” he said simply, and smiled.
11. “The Hand that Feeds”
“Mmm…”
“Good?”
“Mmmmmm…”
The whipped cream on Roy’s fingers was almost as nice as the fingers themselves. Jean sucked as Roy slowly slid them out of Jean’s mouth, licking his lips. Roy smirked and dipped his first two fingers into the bowl again. Jean opened his mouth.
This time they both moaned as Jean’s tongue circled Roy’s fingertips, taking the stickiness away and leaving Roy’s fingers slick and clean.
He did it again, and Roy whimpered, hips rocking, as Jean sucked, before he finally let the bowl crash to the ground, freeing his other hand to fumble his zipper open.
12. “Pirate”
“I hate this party,” Jean mumbled. “Let’s go.”
“Nonsense, Lieutenant,” Roy purred, rubbing his lover’s back. “The night’s only just begun.”
“That’s the trouble. We’ve been here an hour and I feel like I’ve lost a year of my life dodging jokes about ‘finding my booty,’ for God’s sake.”
“I’m having a wonderful time.”
“Of course you are, everyone likes your stupid costume—“
“Of course they do. Have some rum, Cap’n Jean.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Oh, come now, Cap’n, I’m sure that’s not in the swashbuckling code of ethics—“
“Kill you. Kill you dead.”
“I love you, too.”
13. “Birthmark”
Jean took in the sight of the smooth, pale skin of Roy’s thighs in contrast to the wrinkled skin of his balls, humming as he licked them with long, easy sweeps of his tongue.
Roy was confused when Jean’s tongue stilled. Even more so when Jean laughed, softly and affectionately, and kissed his thigh.
“What is it, Jean?”
His lover’s voice was amused, and he felt the lightest touch of a finger on the sensitive skin just below his balls, tracing a small pattern, and the brush of a kiss on the same spot.
“Didn’t know you had a birthmark…”
14. “In the Blizzard”
When Jean got there, after unwrapping his three layers of coats, he found Roy curled up on the sofa. When he saw Jean, he smiled, raising a corner of his blanket so Jean could slip under with him.
“Cold out there,” Jean muttered, as his lips, slightly bluish from the wind, met Roy’s.
“I know.” Roy kissed him again, running his fingers under Jean’s shirt to stroke his stomach.
Jean sighed, sinking into the caress, and rested his chilled face against Roy’s fuzzy bathrobe, happy to replace the roar of the wind outside with the sound of his lover’s heartbeat.
15. “Only the Beginning”
Havoc had thought it was a horrible mistake. He and Mustang had both had too much to drink, and somehow Havoc awoke in his bed.
A sense of dread hit—he’d just ruined his life. He’d leapt out of Mustang’s bed, apologizing for what he’d done, begging Mustang to forgive him, not to fire him, just forget about it, and please, please don’t hate me—
Mustang shut him up with a kiss, and held him until realization hit.
This wasn’t the end of him, after all. In fact, judging by the gentleness in Mustang’s kiss, it was only the beginning.
As always, comments are appreciated. :D
And don't forget to do yourself a favor and check outgaluxkitty's awesome 15 drabbles here.
Author:
raja815Pairing/Fandom:Jean Havoc/ Roy Mustang, Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG to NC-17
Word Count: 15 hundred-word drabbles
Warnings Spoilers for chapter 38 of the manga, fluff, sexual content
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
This was the most fun I've had since finals started- a game of prompts between myself and
galuxkitty that resulted in each of us producing a separate set of 15 Jean/Roy drabbles. We each prompted each other, and she deserves much kudos for some of the weird things I threw her... These are for you, GK, babe. *love*. Read here awesome ones here.1. “Utterly Impossible”
Roy’s body trembled, mouth drown into a determined, tight line as he struggled to keep silent, as impossible as that seemed just now that Jean’s fingers were brushing his prostate with every swift, teasing stroke. But damnit, he was NOT going to lose this bet; he could keep silent, it was-
Jean’s lips closed over his cock, pulling back and forth with a rhythm concurrent to the thrusts of his fingers. His other hand thumbed roughly at Roy’s nipple.
Oh, fuck.
“GOD, JEAN!” Roy screamed, coming hard into Jean’s mouth.
Jean licked his lips and grinned. “Looks like I win.”
2. “Fruit Salad”
Roy leaped back in surprise as the orange he was attempting to peel suddenly squirted a thick stream of juice directly into his face.
“You know, boss, you really don’t have to help me…” Jean laughed from the counter, putting down his knife and wiping the pear juice off his fingers. He closed the distance between them, and licked a drop off Roy’s cheek. He traced the sweet, sticky trail to Roy’s lips and kissed him.
The taste of orange mixed with the essences of the other fruit they’d each sampled, and suddenly the matter of cooking was entirely forgotten.
3. “Sheer Gold”
Jean could see his reflection in the depths of Roy’s eyes as his lover blinked sleepily in the early morning sunlight, the selfsame light reflecting off Jean’s hair, transformed into a sheer gold flicker at the edge of Roy’s iris.
He watched this shimmer as Roy rolled over on top of him, watched the reflection off himself that seemed an inherent part of his lover as he kissed him with open eyes and ground against him, the traces of lube on his cock from last night easing the friction.
Jean watched himself come in Roy’s eyes and felt oddly complete.
4. “Use the Blues”
Roy had never felt a particular fondness for music. He heard operas or danced if that’s what his dates wanted, but always in a rather passive manner.
When Jean moved in, despite the blond’s complete void of talent in the vocal department—to hell with a bucket, he couldn’t carry a tune in a wheelbarrow—Roy still found himself humming the tunes Jean loved, the soft, jazzy blues and simple hooks, to himself at first, and then singing them under his breath to Jean as he slept in the afterglow of their lovemaking, singing words that he never allowed himself to say.
5. “Minutes to midnight”
Nights seemed shorter spent with Roy. Before, he’d often sat hours at home, alone, just smoking and listening to song after song on the radio until it got late enough to go to bed.
Now with Roy’s clock ticking away the final minutes to midnight, it seemed like no time at all. Roy licked up and down his cock, making him moan and beg before finally closing his lips and engulfing Jean in soft, slick heat, back and forth, tight, slide, breath and ahh…
He tasted himself on Roy when they kissed, and thought the night couldn’t last long enough.
6. “Hereditary”
Jean’s blue eyes came from his mother and his blond hair and double-jointed thumbs from his father. He got his long face from his grandmother and his height from his great-granddad.
Roy’s dark hair and eyes and elegant features were his mother’s—once the most beautiful woman in Amestris—and his build and ambition were his dad’s. He shared personality with one sister, looks with a second, and stature with a third.
Over the spread of family photo albums on Roy’s coffee table, they stroked cheekbones, lips, ears, eyebrows, each mapping out his lover’s separate past here in their shared present.
7. “Intoxication”
For his size, Jean really didn’t hold his booze well at all. He stumbled over his feet, sang even more off-key than normal, and Breda would tell anyone who wanted to listen (no one) about the time they’d finally scored a double date with those red-headed twins and Jean had wrecked it by puking all over the poor girls’ shoes on the way home from the bar.
“You drink too fast is the problem. You have to pace yourself,” Roy mumbled, as he lapped the bourbon out of his lover’s navel, making Jean’s cock twitch. “Make it last. Enjoy it…”
8. “Hospital”
One day, during his physiotherapy, the therapist opened the window just as the groundkeeper lit a match to burn the pile of raked leaves on the front lawn, and the sudden flash and smell of ash sent a wave of longing so sharp into his stomach that his hands shook on the bars he gripped.
The therapist told him he looked pale; did it hurt? Was he sick?
Jean found he couldn’t answer.
Later, back in his hospital bed, eyes clenched tight, he breathed as deeply as he could, hoping against hope to catch that smell—Roy’s smell—on the evening breeze.
9. “The Name of Love”
They didn’t use pet names; there wasn’t any need. It was enough of a thrill, after years of ‘sir,’ ‘colonel,’ and ‘lieutenant’ to call each other by name. It was good to say them, their given names, in time with the rhythmic creak of the box springs.
“God, Roy, that feels so good…”
“Oh, Jean…“
“Ahh, Roy—“
“Jean. Mmm, Jean…”
It was even better in the afterglow, when they didn’t even need first names.
“Love you.”
“I love you too.”
And it was best, as they fell asleep in each other’s arms, when they no longer needed words at all.
10. Picnic
“It really is pretty,” Roy muttered, looking out over the country where Jean had grown up.
“It is, isn’t it?” Jean murmured, and Roy turned to his lover only to leap back in surprise when he found Jean’s face, upside-down, directly next to his ear.
Jean laughed as Roy’s eyes widened, before reaching up to the tree limb he was now hanging upside down from and plucking two apples.
“What’s this?” Roy asked, as Jean, rather gracefully for a man of his size, somersaulted from the limb back to the ground beside his lover.
“Picnic,” he said simply, and smiled.
11. “The Hand that Feeds”
“Mmm…”
“Good?”
“Mmmmmm…”
The whipped cream on Roy’s fingers was almost as nice as the fingers themselves. Jean sucked as Roy slowly slid them out of Jean’s mouth, licking his lips. Roy smirked and dipped his first two fingers into the bowl again. Jean opened his mouth.
This time they both moaned as Jean’s tongue circled Roy’s fingertips, taking the stickiness away and leaving Roy’s fingers slick and clean.
He did it again, and Roy whimpered, hips rocking, as Jean sucked, before he finally let the bowl crash to the ground, freeing his other hand to fumble his zipper open.
12. “Pirate”
“I hate this party,” Jean mumbled. “Let’s go.”
“Nonsense, Lieutenant,” Roy purred, rubbing his lover’s back. “The night’s only just begun.”
“That’s the trouble. We’ve been here an hour and I feel like I’ve lost a year of my life dodging jokes about ‘finding my booty,’ for God’s sake.”
“I’m having a wonderful time.”
“Of course you are, everyone likes your stupid costume—“
“Of course they do. Have some rum, Cap’n Jean.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Oh, come now, Cap’n, I’m sure that’s not in the swashbuckling code of ethics—“
“Kill you. Kill you dead.”
“I love you, too.”
13. “Birthmark”
Jean took in the sight of the smooth, pale skin of Roy’s thighs in contrast to the wrinkled skin of his balls, humming as he licked them with long, easy sweeps of his tongue.
Roy was confused when Jean’s tongue stilled. Even more so when Jean laughed, softly and affectionately, and kissed his thigh.
“What is it, Jean?”
His lover’s voice was amused, and he felt the lightest touch of a finger on the sensitive skin just below his balls, tracing a small pattern, and the brush of a kiss on the same spot.
“Didn’t know you had a birthmark…”
14. “In the Blizzard”
When Jean got there, after unwrapping his three layers of coats, he found Roy curled up on the sofa. When he saw Jean, he smiled, raising a corner of his blanket so Jean could slip under with him.
“Cold out there,” Jean muttered, as his lips, slightly bluish from the wind, met Roy’s.
“I know.” Roy kissed him again, running his fingers under Jean’s shirt to stroke his stomach.
Jean sighed, sinking into the caress, and rested his chilled face against Roy’s fuzzy bathrobe, happy to replace the roar of the wind outside with the sound of his lover’s heartbeat.
15. “Only the Beginning”
Havoc had thought it was a horrible mistake. He and Mustang had both had too much to drink, and somehow Havoc awoke in his bed.
A sense of dread hit—he’d just ruined his life. He’d leapt out of Mustang’s bed, apologizing for what he’d done, begging Mustang to forgive him, not to fire him, just forget about it, and please, please don’t hate me—
Mustang shut him up with a kiss, and held him until realization hit.
This wasn’t the end of him, after all. In fact, judging by the gentleness in Mustang’s kiss, it was only the beginning.
As always, comments are appreciated. :D
And don't forget to do yourself a favor and check out
galuxkitty's awesome 15 drabbles here.
