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Entry tags:
- art,
- fic,
- fma,
- havoc week,
- yaoi
April 24 is STRIP HAVOC NAKED DAY
Happy Strip Havoc Naked Day!
Art:
Title: "Um... Sir?"
Characters/Pairing: Havoc/Roy
Rated: R for nudity
Fic:
Title: The Assistance His Plight Required
Characters/Pairing: Havoc/Roy
Rated: R
Word Count: 577
Havoc didn’t really remember the drive home from the bar; it was all sort of a pleasant haze from the time Mustang had wrenched his keys from his hand and buckled him into the passenger seat. He did remember Mustang trying to wrench the final bottle of beer from his other hand once he’d gotten in, but he’d held onto it a lot more strongly then he’d held onto the keys… and he sort of remembered Mustang telling him if he continued singing “that terror of a song,” he would be killed and posthumorously demoted five ranks… anyway, beyond that it was a blur.
Now here he was back at his apartment, uncoordinated and desensitized, stumbling into his box of dishes and breaking what sounded like at least half of them, but happy, looking forward to taking off his uniform, collapsing into his bed, sinking into the pile of soft quilts and drifting off into a drunken sleep.
Unfortunately, his uniform wasn’t cooperating.
He’d been yanking at his pants for what felt like an eternity, swearing at them and stumbling dizzily into the high counter of his apartment’s kitchenette and hadn’t managed to do much but tangle them about his hips and boots when he suddenly felt a strange set of hands close over his on his hips. He yelped.
“Let me help you, Lieutenant. You’re impossible when you’re drunk…”
He recognized Colonel Mustang’s voice and blanched at it for a moment. It was odd; he didn’t remember his Colonel coming back up to his apartment with him… well, come to think of it, it wasn’t that odd. Besides the three-quarter empty bottle he still had clutched in his hand, he’d left a two-foot pile of similar empties on the floor of the bar.
“Thank you, Sir,” Jean managed, though his tongue felt stupid and much to large for his mouth. Carefully, he leaned against the counter, stumbling a bit over the tangle of fabric at his feet.
Carefully, his superior straightened the cloth, pulling it downward, twisting it back and forth, and knelt on the floor to attempt to free Havoc’s boots. “You’ve made quite a mess of the whole operation, Havoc,” he said, and even with all the alcohol Havoc didn’t quite miss the amusement in his voice… or the gentle, amused pat to Havoc’s calf as he slid his pants downward.
He was trying to think of a reply, at the same time musing on the softness of his Colonel’s hand when he had his gloves off, and then two things struck him at once. One, at some point during the undressing process, his boxer shorts had slipped downward, low over his thighs.
And two, he was suddenly sporting a massive erection.
Immediately his face and ears went hot with blush and he swayed a bit, feeling the light flutter of panic in his stomach redouble and intensify as he looked down to see his Colonel’s dark head bent low beneath him.
“Um… Sir?” He mumbled, and then realized that had been stupid when Mustang suddenly looked up, amusement spreading over his face as he saw his Lieutenant’s predicament.
Havoc closed his eyes, waiting for the barrage of teasing insults that was sure to follow.
Instead, he felt the same soft hand encircle his cock and gently stroke forward.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” his superior officer purred, and Havoc felt his warm breath tickle the head of his cock. “I can help with this, too.”
See you all tomorrow for Spy on Havoc Day! :D
Art:
Title: "Um... Sir?"
Characters/Pairing: Havoc/Roy
Rated: R for nudity
Fic:
Title: The Assistance His Plight Required
Characters/Pairing: Havoc/Roy
Rated: R
Word Count: 577
Havoc didn’t really remember the drive home from the bar; it was all sort of a pleasant haze from the time Mustang had wrenched his keys from his hand and buckled him into the passenger seat. He did remember Mustang trying to wrench the final bottle of beer from his other hand once he’d gotten in, but he’d held onto it a lot more strongly then he’d held onto the keys… and he sort of remembered Mustang telling him if he continued singing “that terror of a song,” he would be killed and posthumorously demoted five ranks… anyway, beyond that it was a blur.
Now here he was back at his apartment, uncoordinated and desensitized, stumbling into his box of dishes and breaking what sounded like at least half of them, but happy, looking forward to taking off his uniform, collapsing into his bed, sinking into the pile of soft quilts and drifting off into a drunken sleep.
Unfortunately, his uniform wasn’t cooperating.
He’d been yanking at his pants for what felt like an eternity, swearing at them and stumbling dizzily into the high counter of his apartment’s kitchenette and hadn’t managed to do much but tangle them about his hips and boots when he suddenly felt a strange set of hands close over his on his hips. He yelped.
“Let me help you, Lieutenant. You’re impossible when you’re drunk…”
He recognized Colonel Mustang’s voice and blanched at it for a moment. It was odd; he didn’t remember his Colonel coming back up to his apartment with him… well, come to think of it, it wasn’t that odd. Besides the three-quarter empty bottle he still had clutched in his hand, he’d left a two-foot pile of similar empties on the floor of the bar.
“Thank you, Sir,” Jean managed, though his tongue felt stupid and much to large for his mouth. Carefully, he leaned against the counter, stumbling a bit over the tangle of fabric at his feet.
Carefully, his superior straightened the cloth, pulling it downward, twisting it back and forth, and knelt on the floor to attempt to free Havoc’s boots. “You’ve made quite a mess of the whole operation, Havoc,” he said, and even with all the alcohol Havoc didn’t quite miss the amusement in his voice… or the gentle, amused pat to Havoc’s calf as he slid his pants downward.
He was trying to think of a reply, at the same time musing on the softness of his Colonel’s hand when he had his gloves off, and then two things struck him at once. One, at some point during the undressing process, his boxer shorts had slipped downward, low over his thighs.
And two, he was suddenly sporting a massive erection.
Immediately his face and ears went hot with blush and he swayed a bit, feeling the light flutter of panic in his stomach redouble and intensify as he looked down to see his Colonel’s dark head bent low beneath him.
“Um… Sir?” He mumbled, and then realized that had been stupid when Mustang suddenly looked up, amusement spreading over his face as he saw his Lieutenant’s predicament.
Havoc closed his eyes, waiting for the barrage of teasing insults that was sure to follow.
Instead, he felt the same soft hand encircle his cock and gently stroke forward.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” his superior officer purred, and Havoc felt his warm breath tickle the head of his cock. “I can help with this, too.”
See you all tomorrow for Spy on Havoc Day! :D