![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rajTitle: Words, Words, Words
Pairing: Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc of FMA
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 500
Disclaimer: FMA and all replated characters are the property of Hiromu Arakawa.
Notes: Written for this week's challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15minuteficlets. Prompt is under the cut.
THis week's prompt was: Moon.
“Roy?”
There was an answering grunt from somewhere amidst the giant bundle of blankets to Jean’s right, so he assumed the other man was awake and at least partially coherent. He continued, reaching through the layers of cotton duvet in search of the other man’s arm.
“Moon’s out.” He whispered. His hand seized something warmer and more inviting than the blankets; further investigation revealed it was Roy’s shoulder. “Bright tonight.”
A dark, shaggy head, hair tangled into a fluffy mop to rival his lover’s fringe suddenly protruded from the pile, a good fifteen or so inches away from the spot Jean would’ve expected his head to be. He glared at Jean in a terrifying yet sleepy way. “And what exactly did you want me to do about it, Lieutenant?”
“Nothing… just… the way it’s reflecting off the snow, the light comes right in. Hard to sleep, with it so bright.”
“Speak for yourself.” But he sat up, struggling out of the blankets to sit upright. He stretched and stared at the gleaming stripes of silvery light coming in through the half-drawn blinds. After a moment he sighed and lay back down, positioning his head on Jean’s lap. “I don’t know why you do these things to me…”
Jean smiled and stroked the tangled mess of hair. The longer you knew Roy, and knew him privately, and well, the easier it got to read him.
“Sorry, Boss.” Jean squeezed Roy’s leg.
“Well, too late now.” Roy’s face split in an enormous yawn, and he sat up, turning to face Jean. Despite the cold, Jean still slept naked but for his boxer shorts, and the snow-reflected moonlight looked inviting enough striped over his lover’s bare chest. He opened his mouth, tracing the lines of light with his tongue before reaching a nipple, erect in the cool room, and biting lightly, eliciting a pleased little hum from Jean’s throat. “Might as well make the best of it?”
“Of course.” Jean’s arms locked around Roy, pulling him in for a kiss.
Despite the chill, neither of them felt much like covers at the moment, and as the kiss deepened and first Roy’s pajama bottoms and then Jean’s shorts made their way to the floor, replaced by simple strips of that elegant light against their skin, the cold ceased to matter. Their bodies knew each other, reading each other’s desires and pleasures in motion and movement, the same way they could read the words behind each other’s spoken syllables.
They kept a tube of lubrication under Roy’s pillow, and put it to good use, Jean relishing every second of stretching and friction as Roy slid into him. The moonlight illuminated his messy hair from behind, giving him an ethereal quality that made Jean desperate to feel him. They moaned for each other, cried out, and when they finished they kissed and curled up in Roy’s trademark warm pile.
“Bright moon,” Jean repeated through a yawn, cheek warm against Roy’s chest.
Roy kissed his forehead.
Pairing: Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc of FMA
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 500
Disclaimer: FMA and all replated characters are the property of Hiromu Arakawa.
Notes: Written for this week's challenge at
15minuteficlets. Prompt is under the cut.THis week's prompt was: Moon.
“Roy?”
There was an answering grunt from somewhere amidst the giant bundle of blankets to Jean’s right, so he assumed the other man was awake and at least partially coherent. He continued, reaching through the layers of cotton duvet in search of the other man’s arm.
“Moon’s out.” He whispered. His hand seized something warmer and more inviting than the blankets; further investigation revealed it was Roy’s shoulder. “Bright tonight.”
A dark, shaggy head, hair tangled into a fluffy mop to rival his lover’s fringe suddenly protruded from the pile, a good fifteen or so inches away from the spot Jean would’ve expected his head to be. He glared at Jean in a terrifying yet sleepy way. “And what exactly did you want me to do about it, Lieutenant?”
“Nothing… just… the way it’s reflecting off the snow, the light comes right in. Hard to sleep, with it so bright.”
“Speak for yourself.” But he sat up, struggling out of the blankets to sit upright. He stretched and stared at the gleaming stripes of silvery light coming in through the half-drawn blinds. After a moment he sighed and lay back down, positioning his head on Jean’s lap. “I don’t know why you do these things to me…”
Jean smiled and stroked the tangled mess of hair. The longer you knew Roy, and knew him privately, and well, the easier it got to read him.
“Sorry, Boss.” Jean squeezed Roy’s leg.
“Well, too late now.” Roy’s face split in an enormous yawn, and he sat up, turning to face Jean. Despite the cold, Jean still slept naked but for his boxer shorts, and the snow-reflected moonlight looked inviting enough striped over his lover’s bare chest. He opened his mouth, tracing the lines of light with his tongue before reaching a nipple, erect in the cool room, and biting lightly, eliciting a pleased little hum from Jean’s throat. “Might as well make the best of it?”
“Of course.” Jean’s arms locked around Roy, pulling him in for a kiss.
Despite the chill, neither of them felt much like covers at the moment, and as the kiss deepened and first Roy’s pajama bottoms and then Jean’s shorts made their way to the floor, replaced by simple strips of that elegant light against their skin, the cold ceased to matter. Their bodies knew each other, reading each other’s desires and pleasures in motion and movement, the same way they could read the words behind each other’s spoken syllables.
They kept a tube of lubrication under Roy’s pillow, and put it to good use, Jean relishing every second of stretching and friction as Roy slid into him. The moonlight illuminated his messy hair from behind, giving him an ethereal quality that made Jean desperate to feel him. They moaned for each other, cried out, and when they finished they kissed and curled up in Roy’s trademark warm pile.
“Bright moon,” Jean repeated through a yawn, cheek warm against Roy’s chest.
Roy kissed his forehead.
