Accidental Somethings Are Forever
For the first few months, he didn’t notice that the man opposite his apartment window was actually his superior officer living in the other building across the street on the same level as him, the perfect view to peer straight into the other man’s home.
For the first few weeks, he was more concerned about the numerous leaks from the ceiling-just another rainy season in East City-of his “new” apartment. Actually it was an old apartment he used when he was stationed in this place instead of Central where he had another small living space that fit perfectly for him. His salary wasn’t that big and he struggled time to time but it was worth it. It was much better than living with Breda (no offense Heymans) who snored like a train with hale raining down on top of it.
It was, by chance, on a sunny day that he decided to organize his gun cleaning kit while sitting on the floor, in front of the couch with everything spread out in front of him on the coffee table. The sun was setting, evening blowing away the sun with a cool breeze filtering through his open window. The draft was a much needed relief after the sweltering days of summer after a flood of endless rain. Turning his head toward the wind, he caught sight of movement across the street.
What should be nothing almost became something. There leaning out of the opposing window was one Colonel Roy Mustang, eyes closed, head tilted up toward the sky, basking in the sunlight with his shirt partially open, pale flesh a stark contrast to the dark shirt he wore. For some odd reason, Havoc stared at his commanding officer, wondering if he should show himself and ask what Mustang was so obviously doing. It seemed rather private what Mustang was doing despite it being almost relatively normal.
Or it should be. His eyes lingered on the bare neck and the hollow area between Mustang’s collar bones, the exposed sternum. Mustang unbuttoned his shirt half way, his keen eyes noticed. His lips were dry. Tongue swiping over them to moisten, Havoc swallowed the lump in his throat. The air around him grew more humid, a bead of sweat trickled down one temple. He couldn’t look away, even when Mustang finally disappeared back inside the apartment.
He stared into the open window across the street, hoping for another glance at the man he swore he would follow to the ends of the earth (miniskirts or no miniskirts). The sun vanished from the horizon as dusk turned into night. The sky blackened. The stars came blinked into view above the city.
Closing his eyes for one eternity of a second, he imagined himself behind his superior, arms wrapping around the slighter man’s waist, pulling him close and flush against his own taller frame. He could almost smell the carbon and sulfur that lingered when Mustang was in the same room with a hint of cedar cologne that the brunet officer must have liked to be wearing every single day.
He imagined his fingers dipping into the bare exposed skin that the unfastened portion of Mustang’s shirt couldn’t hide, stroking the length of the alchemist’s breast bone. Would the skin be silk like a woman’s? Probably not, Mustang was very much male. Incredibly masculine despite his rather feminine features that was more apparent in certain lights.
But what if Mustang was a woman? Would his superior’s breasts be soft and heavy in his hand, filling them but not quite spilling out of them? Would Mustang’s legs be seemingly endless with voluptuous body and hips that just sway the way Havoc loves to watch them on any of his (failed) dates? Havoc groaned slightly, imaging his superior as a woman was almost taboo and sinful but he couldn’t help it. His pants tightened at the image of a lingerie-clad woman in front of him, rubbing her back against his chest, hips grinding against his.
The image slowly transitioned back to a very male Mustang. Kneeling in front of him, hands on his hips, mouth open slightly, a pink tongue licking his hard erection from crown to base and back again. He wore exactly the same outfit Havoc saw his superior donning before his imagination took over. He would stare down pale flesh valley.
Would they be smooth and unmarred like a child’s chest? Or would it be scarred, a testimony to Mustang’s time during the Rebellion that he went to but never seen combat up close other than at the other end of a sniper’s sight? His lips curled into a grin, one hand dropping to undo his trousers, pulling out his throbbing arousal from his boxers and pants.
Cool air caressed it and Havoc thought of Mustang’s bare hands.
His mind flickered to the idea of whether or not Mustang was one to take one position in bed or both. Would he bottom for Havoc? Spread his legs wide, opening his body to take Havoc’s cock into his body while the latter would thrust in and out, hard and fast, slow and gentle (if Mustang preferred), bringing them both to the pinnacle of pleasure. What if Havoc was the one receiving? Not that he would mind, really. He didn’t care which. After so many failures with women, he was open to relationships with men. (He experimented back in the academy, some of whom didn’t survive Ishabl but he didn’t think about them. There weren’t really any feelings to go with those trysts. It was all just physical.) He liked taking it both ways but Havoc wondered still, would Mustang give up control and trust him?
Stroking his cock lethargically, Havoc spared a stolen glance at the window some distance away from his. So far yet so near. Mustang didn’t appear but that was fine. Havoc could wait. Who knows, maybe one day, Mustang would invite him over and then they’ll see where they went from there.
Maybe, Havoc could find himself in more than just a tumble between the sheets with his commanding officer.
Man or woman, Mustang was Mustang and the image he just seen was burned into his mind forever.
His imagination could comfort him for a while, sating his newfound lust for the brunet in the other building across the street. So long as he had a view of Mustang acting natural outside the office, it will do. For now.
Fate always seemed to be against him for the most part but someday, it might just fall into his favour.
End
If you enjoyed the story, hate it or what not, please leave a review on your thoughts. Thank you. ^_^
For the first few weeks, he was more concerned about the numerous leaks from the ceiling-just another rainy season in East City-of his “new” apartment. Actually it was an old apartment he used when he was stationed in this place instead of Central where he had another small living space that fit perfectly for him. His salary wasn’t that big and he struggled time to time but it was worth it. It was much better than living with Breda (no offense Heymans) who snored like a train with hale raining down on top of it.
It was, by chance, on a sunny day that he decided to organize his gun cleaning kit while sitting on the floor, in front of the couch with everything spread out in front of him on the coffee table. The sun was setting, evening blowing away the sun with a cool breeze filtering through his open window. The draft was a much needed relief after the sweltering days of summer after a flood of endless rain. Turning his head toward the wind, he caught sight of movement across the street.
What should be nothing almost became something. There leaning out of the opposing window was one Colonel Roy Mustang, eyes closed, head tilted up toward the sky, basking in the sunlight with his shirt partially open, pale flesh a stark contrast to the dark shirt he wore. For some odd reason, Havoc stared at his commanding officer, wondering if he should show himself and ask what Mustang was so obviously doing. It seemed rather private what Mustang was doing despite it being almost relatively normal.
Or it should be. His eyes lingered on the bare neck and the hollow area between Mustang’s collar bones, the exposed sternum. Mustang unbuttoned his shirt half way, his keen eyes noticed. His lips were dry. Tongue swiping over them to moisten, Havoc swallowed the lump in his throat. The air around him grew more humid, a bead of sweat trickled down one temple. He couldn’t look away, even when Mustang finally disappeared back inside the apartment.
He stared into the open window across the street, hoping for another glance at the man he swore he would follow to the ends of the earth (miniskirts or no miniskirts). The sun vanished from the horizon as dusk turned into night. The sky blackened. The stars came blinked into view above the city.
Closing his eyes for one eternity of a second, he imagined himself behind his superior, arms wrapping around the slighter man’s waist, pulling him close and flush against his own taller frame. He could almost smell the carbon and sulfur that lingered when Mustang was in the same room with a hint of cedar cologne that the brunet officer must have liked to be wearing every single day.
He imagined his fingers dipping into the bare exposed skin that the unfastened portion of Mustang’s shirt couldn’t hide, stroking the length of the alchemist’s breast bone. Would the skin be silk like a woman’s? Probably not, Mustang was very much male. Incredibly masculine despite his rather feminine features that was more apparent in certain lights.
But what if Mustang was a woman? Would his superior’s breasts be soft and heavy in his hand, filling them but not quite spilling out of them? Would Mustang’s legs be seemingly endless with voluptuous body and hips that just sway the way Havoc loves to watch them on any of his (failed) dates? Havoc groaned slightly, imaging his superior as a woman was almost taboo and sinful but he couldn’t help it. His pants tightened at the image of a lingerie-clad woman in front of him, rubbing her back against his chest, hips grinding against his.
The image slowly transitioned back to a very male Mustang. Kneeling in front of him, hands on his hips, mouth open slightly, a pink tongue licking his hard erection from crown to base and back again. He wore exactly the same outfit Havoc saw his superior donning before his imagination took over. He would stare down pale flesh valley.
Would they be smooth and unmarred like a child’s chest? Or would it be scarred, a testimony to Mustang’s time during the Rebellion that he went to but never seen combat up close other than at the other end of a sniper’s sight? His lips curled into a grin, one hand dropping to undo his trousers, pulling out his throbbing arousal from his boxers and pants.
Cool air caressed it and Havoc thought of Mustang’s bare hands.
His mind flickered to the idea of whether or not Mustang was one to take one position in bed or both. Would he bottom for Havoc? Spread his legs wide, opening his body to take Havoc’s cock into his body while the latter would thrust in and out, hard and fast, slow and gentle (if Mustang preferred), bringing them both to the pinnacle of pleasure. What if Havoc was the one receiving? Not that he would mind, really. He didn’t care which. After so many failures with women, he was open to relationships with men. (He experimented back in the academy, some of whom didn’t survive Ishabl but he didn’t think about them. There weren’t really any feelings to go with those trysts. It was all just physical.) He liked taking it both ways but Havoc wondered still, would Mustang give up control and trust him?
Stroking his cock lethargically, Havoc spared a stolen glance at the window some distance away from his. So far yet so near. Mustang didn’t appear but that was fine. Havoc could wait. Who knows, maybe one day, Mustang would invite him over and then they’ll see where they went from there.
Maybe, Havoc could find himself in more than just a tumble between the sheets with his commanding officer.
Man or woman, Mustang was Mustang and the image he just seen was burned into his mind forever.
His imagination could comfort him for a while, sating his newfound lust for the brunet in the other building across the street. So long as he had a view of Mustang acting natural outside the office, it will do. For now.
Fate always seemed to be against him for the most part but someday, it might just fall into his favour.
End
If you enjoyed the story, hate it or what not, please leave a review on your thoughts. Thank you. ^_^