FMA (Scar/Roy): Blind Alley
Title: Blind Alley
Fandom: FMA (Scar/Roy)
Rating: MA
Genre: Angry-hot PWP
Words: 480
Warnings: hard yaoi and necessarily nasty language
Author's Note: For dA's garikaliev, who wanted to see Scar's barbarian splendor, wild and insatiable, with Roy as the spermbank he secretly longed to be. I may have failed the "no angst" request, but if I can't picture it as a canon back alley, it's hard to write.
Crossposted: citrus_taste, because this works well for Prompt 30 (Until There's Nothing Left of Us) and I've got to get back to that list and finish it!
The alley is filthy, but no filthier than we deserve. Your grunts are animalistic, crimson eyes burning into mine as you take me. Madness flares inside you, a fire to match my own. Retribution is your battlecry, and your cock slamming home is a perfect weapon to tear into me with fury I can understand.
Your hands dig into my thighs, prying me open to your gaze and your hunger. You fuck like the beast I know you for, and if I purge anything as I lay beneath you in the dirt and garbage it is not guilt but rage. Give me further reason to despise you, Scar. Prove to me that you crave more than death as you thrust home and drip sweat your body cannot afford to lose. You are walking death, a burning desert. Yet you surrender life to me even as you tear me open and fill me.
I devoured your snarl of surprise when I lay on my back instead of taking to my knees for your fuck, Ishbalan. If we're going to share this hatred, we'll share it openly. You won't pretend I am someone else-or no one at all. I am your enemy: face me. Preach to me and breach me with that tainted cock of yours, massive and unclean. I gripped it hard and felt its veins pulse beneath my fingers. I could have put on a glove, snapped, and burned you alive, animal. But that is not our dance this night.
A blind alley is our perfect shared destiny. I felt the slick foreskin, pulled it back and felt spare moisture at the angry head. I spread wide for you, smiled while doing it. You spit down to ease the passage, but there will be no ease between us, in this or anything else. As you felt my muscles give way, I licked my fingers. I tasted your death as you forced me open and tasted mine.
Now, as we both face a harsh climax centered in the only kind of pleasure two murderers can experience, we are forced to inhale the harsh stink of one another on rough and foul cobblestones that smell of the past and promise no future. The darkness swallows up all but our rough breathing, our rougher embrace.
"Fuck me harder," I command, dog of the military ignored by the infidel.
"Fucking alchemist whore," you answer, arrogant high priest of a dead religion, pitching over the edge and filling me with a killer's seed.
Orgasm doesn't stop you, and I feel your fist grip my cock hard as you ride me, show me the ruined strength of a monster, the doomed champion turning me into the piece of meat I cannot admit in words that I long to be. Fuck me, Ishbalan. Destroy me. Show me I was right to wish death on your people.
Fandom: FMA (Scar/Roy)
Rating: MA
Genre: Angry-hot PWP
Words: 480
Warnings: hard yaoi and necessarily nasty language
Author's Note: For dA's garikaliev, who wanted to see Scar's barbarian splendor, wild and insatiable, with Roy as the spermbank he secretly longed to be. I may have failed the "no angst" request, but if I can't picture it as a canon back alley, it's hard to write.
Crossposted: citrus_taste, because this works well for Prompt 30 (Until There's Nothing Left of Us) and I've got to get back to that list and finish it!
The alley is filthy, but no filthier than we deserve. Your grunts are animalistic, crimson eyes burning into mine as you take me. Madness flares inside you, a fire to match my own. Retribution is your battlecry, and your cock slamming home is a perfect weapon to tear into me with fury I can understand.
Your hands dig into my thighs, prying me open to your gaze and your hunger. You fuck like the beast I know you for, and if I purge anything as I lay beneath you in the dirt and garbage it is not guilt but rage. Give me further reason to despise you, Scar. Prove to me that you crave more than death as you thrust home and drip sweat your body cannot afford to lose. You are walking death, a burning desert. Yet you surrender life to me even as you tear me open and fill me.
I devoured your snarl of surprise when I lay on my back instead of taking to my knees for your fuck, Ishbalan. If we're going to share this hatred, we'll share it openly. You won't pretend I am someone else-or no one at all. I am your enemy: face me. Preach to me and breach me with that tainted cock of yours, massive and unclean. I gripped it hard and felt its veins pulse beneath my fingers. I could have put on a glove, snapped, and burned you alive, animal. But that is not our dance this night.
A blind alley is our perfect shared destiny. I felt the slick foreskin, pulled it back and felt spare moisture at the angry head. I spread wide for you, smiled while doing it. You spit down to ease the passage, but there will be no ease between us, in this or anything else. As you felt my muscles give way, I licked my fingers. I tasted your death as you forced me open and tasted mine.
Now, as we both face a harsh climax centered in the only kind of pleasure two murderers can experience, we are forced to inhale the harsh stink of one another on rough and foul cobblestones that smell of the past and promise no future. The darkness swallows up all but our rough breathing, our rougher embrace.
"Fuck me harder," I command, dog of the military ignored by the infidel.
"Fucking alchemist whore," you answer, arrogant high priest of a dead religion, pitching over the edge and filling me with a killer's seed.
Orgasm doesn't stop you, and I feel your fist grip my cock hard as you ride me, show me the ruined strength of a monster, the doomed champion turning me into the piece of meat I cannot admit in words that I long to be. Fuck me, Ishbalan. Destroy me. Show me I was right to wish death on your people.