Fic - "ABC Kink - E for Emetophilia"
Feb. 17th, 2009 06:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rajTitle: ABC Kink - "E for Emetophilia"
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raja815
Character/Fandom: Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc. Fullmetal Alchemist.
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 748
Warnings: Sex. Vomit. Fluff. (In that order.)
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Emetophilia refers to an individual being aroused by vomit, which is technically the exact opposite of what happens in this fic. I thought you all might like it better that way. Anyway, all in all, it's a pretty lightcore fic, more humor than porn.
for “Emetophilia”
Ironically, it had been dancing around in the back of Roy’s head that he should tell Jean to slow it down. They’d had a pretty big dinner and quite a lot of expensive wine, and Jean had never attempted deepthroating before. But he was too pleasantly full and drunk, and what Jean was doing felt amazing, so he just sat back and relaxed, feeling the tight seal of Jean’s mouth move farther and farther down, faster and faster, Roy’s own consciousness floating farther and farther away as he neared his peak…
And then Jean made a horrible noise like a cement mixer. There was a stingily acidic high-pressure gush, and all at once Roy’s lap was full of something very warm, very wet, and very, very thick and sticky.
Roy groaned and screwed his eyes closed, trying not to inhale. His erection abruptly decided to take the rest of the evening off. He couldn’t honestly say he blamed it.
What a waste of a five-thousand sen meal, he thought distractedly, and was moving on to wondering how the hell he was going to get to his cleaning equipment without making the mess even worse when he heard a pathetic little whimper.
“Oh fuck. Oh, fuck, no…”
Afraid the sound signaled another impending eruption, his eyes flew open and he looked with real terror toward Havoc. But when he saw him, the feeling vanished all at once.
Jean had covered his mouth with one hand, and was shaking his head slowly back and forth. All the spots his fingers didn’t cover were crimson with blush, and his eyes were squeezed shut. He looked almost ready to cry.
Now, while he was actually pretty good at dealing with crying women, Roy Mustang had no idea how to handle crying men. Hell, he didn’t even know what to do with himself when he felt like crying. All in all, the prospect of Jean sobbing was even more detestable than the mess in his lap, so Roy decided to cut him off before it came to that. Besides, he looked pitiful. Really pitiful. And despite himself, Roy began to feel sorry for him. Poor smelly, disgusting, humiliated lieutenant.
“Jean, it’s all right,” Roy said, and was surprised at how gentle it sounded. “Stop carrying on."
“Oh, god,” Jean moaned, the words muffled by his hands. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. Oh, fuck. Oh, g—”
“I said stop it. It’s all right. I’ll clean up just fine. I’m not angry.” And once he said it, he realized he truly wasn’t. Odd. “Could you just… grab me a towel?”
There was one in the entryway, kept there to put wet galoshes on during rainy days. Jean crawled weakly over and got it.
“I’m so sorry,” he moaned again, as Roy was gingerly scraping what he could of the mess away. “I didn’t even feel it coming until I choked, and then I—”
Roy didn’t want to discus the specifics. He really, really didn’t. “I said it was all right, didn’t I? How do you feel now, still sick?”
Jean half shrugged, and looked miserable again. “I don’t know.”
He was such a pathetic sight that Roy felt a sudden urge to give him a hug, vomit or no vomit. For the sake of the carpet, he fought it. “Go wash up and get into bed. I’ll take a shower, and then we can go to sleep and forget it.” Fat chance of that, but at least it sounded good. “You’ll be fine.”
Jean nodded, still looking mortified, and headed for the small half-bath adjacent to Roy’s bedroom.
A few minutes later, Roy was under the spray of one of the most welcomed showers of his life, violently scrubbing his pubic hair. He thought of Jean waiting in his huge double bed, probably hiding his face under a pillow like a child who had received a scolding. To his great surprise, he felt almost amused enough to smile.
I can’t believe I’m still letting him stay the night after this, he mused. I must really love him.
His eyes snapped wide and the soap slipped out of his hand. That thought, and the immediate realization that it was quite true, was even more unexpected than the puddle of sick in his lap had been.
5/26
See you guys tomorrow for letter F. :)
Author/Artist:
raja815Character/Fandom: Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc. Fullmetal Alchemist.
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 748
Warnings: Sex. Vomit. Fluff. (In that order.)
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Emetophilia refers to an individual being aroused by vomit, which is technically the exact opposite of what happens in this fic. I thought you all might like it better that way. Anyway, all in all, it's a pretty lightcore fic, more humor than porn.
for “Emetophilia”Ironically, it had been dancing around in the back of Roy’s head that he should tell Jean to slow it down. They’d had a pretty big dinner and quite a lot of expensive wine, and Jean had never attempted deepthroating before. But he was too pleasantly full and drunk, and what Jean was doing felt amazing, so he just sat back and relaxed, feeling the tight seal of Jean’s mouth move farther and farther down, faster and faster, Roy’s own consciousness floating farther and farther away as he neared his peak…
And then Jean made a horrible noise like a cement mixer. There was a stingily acidic high-pressure gush, and all at once Roy’s lap was full of something very warm, very wet, and very, very thick and sticky.
Roy groaned and screwed his eyes closed, trying not to inhale. His erection abruptly decided to take the rest of the evening off. He couldn’t honestly say he blamed it.
What a waste of a five-thousand sen meal, he thought distractedly, and was moving on to wondering how the hell he was going to get to his cleaning equipment without making the mess even worse when he heard a pathetic little whimper.
“Oh fuck. Oh, fuck, no…”
Afraid the sound signaled another impending eruption, his eyes flew open and he looked with real terror toward Havoc. But when he saw him, the feeling vanished all at once.
Jean had covered his mouth with one hand, and was shaking his head slowly back and forth. All the spots his fingers didn’t cover were crimson with blush, and his eyes were squeezed shut. He looked almost ready to cry.
Now, while he was actually pretty good at dealing with crying women, Roy Mustang had no idea how to handle crying men. Hell, he didn’t even know what to do with himself when he felt like crying. All in all, the prospect of Jean sobbing was even more detestable than the mess in his lap, so Roy decided to cut him off before it came to that. Besides, he looked pitiful. Really pitiful. And despite himself, Roy began to feel sorry for him. Poor smelly, disgusting, humiliated lieutenant.
“Jean, it’s all right,” Roy said, and was surprised at how gentle it sounded. “Stop carrying on."
“Oh, god,” Jean moaned, the words muffled by his hands. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. Oh, fuck. Oh, g—”
“I said stop it. It’s all right. I’ll clean up just fine. I’m not angry.” And once he said it, he realized he truly wasn’t. Odd. “Could you just… grab me a towel?”
There was one in the entryway, kept there to put wet galoshes on during rainy days. Jean crawled weakly over and got it.
“I’m so sorry,” he moaned again, as Roy was gingerly scraping what he could of the mess away. “I didn’t even feel it coming until I choked, and then I—”
Roy didn’t want to discus the specifics. He really, really didn’t. “I said it was all right, didn’t I? How do you feel now, still sick?”
Jean half shrugged, and looked miserable again. “I don’t know.”
He was such a pathetic sight that Roy felt a sudden urge to give him a hug, vomit or no vomit. For the sake of the carpet, he fought it. “Go wash up and get into bed. I’ll take a shower, and then we can go to sleep and forget it.” Fat chance of that, but at least it sounded good. “You’ll be fine.”
Jean nodded, still looking mortified, and headed for the small half-bath adjacent to Roy’s bedroom.
A few minutes later, Roy was under the spray of one of the most welcomed showers of his life, violently scrubbing his pubic hair. He thought of Jean waiting in his huge double bed, probably hiding his face under a pillow like a child who had received a scolding. To his great surprise, he felt almost amused enough to smile.
I can’t believe I’m still letting him stay the night after this, he mused. I must really love him.
His eyes snapped wide and the soap slipped out of his hand. That thought, and the immediate realization that it was quite true, was even more unexpected than the puddle of sick in his lap had been.
5/26
See you guys tomorrow for letter F. :)
