Jean/Roy 2 (Chapter 3)
Title: To Really Free One's Self.
Chapter Title: Nothing More Than A Stage
Author: sull89
Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist
Pairing: Jean/Roy (Maes/Roy and Kimbley/Roy both alluded to as past relationships.)
Other Main Characters: Zolf Kimbley.
Rating: This chapter, NC-17. Story as a whole, NC-17.
Warning: In this chapter, not really explicit rape, but there is enough in it to merit an NC-17 rating
Summary: Finally free from prison, Kimbley decides to visit and old "friend" and ruin the life he had build for himself.
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter One
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter Two
In a matter of moments, Kimbley had Jean divested of his pants and boxers despite the younger’s vocal and physical protests. It was laughable, almost, how the poor pathetic kid thought thrashing his hands against the wall and yelling a few scared words at his captor was going to do anything. It was a mere side amusement to Kimbley, actually, the lead in act to a show that will leave both of them with an everlasting memory.
This is the show that Kimbley had been waiting almost a month and a half for; that glorious combination of physical pain, mental anguish, and bodily force that would push him over the edge and into an ocean of ecstasy. Of course, he knew the extravagance and brute, vicious beauty of it would be lost on the boy; some people just don’t understand real art when they see it, and Kimbley was ready to unleash the most poetically cruel vengeance he had ever been able to come up with.
It was a rush, and now, he was desperate for that curtain to open and his spectacular plans to come front and center. The stage was set it was finally time for the production to begin. With those delicious thoughts whirling around in his head, Kimbley finally let himself go, pouring out all the rage and anger and spite he had ever felt toward Roy Mustang as he yanked his hand down the other man’s soft and most sensitive organ, digging his nails into the tender flesh as he pumped some life into it.
The scream that reached his ears as soon as his hand came in contact with Jean’s skin was pure, unadulterated perfection to Kimbley, long starved of any of the real stimulation they craved. After all, the menial and worthless chatter of human beings was something that needed to be stomped out and killed; he had no patience for the so called “intellectual conversation” that so many others found fascinating; he was interested in something much more primal.
What he wanted to hear was the true raw emotion, the true pain that lie dormant behind facades of pleasant cheer far, far too often. He wanted to hear the screams and the sobs and the shouts of the tormented souls he liberated from those fake exteriors, listen as they poured their very hearts and minds out to him, all becoming part of the stunning act he put on as he showed them how pure their lives could really be.
So, it was with great pleasure that he allowed his show to begin. Despite what he knew were Jean’s best efforts to stop himself from getting hard, his dick was beginning to stiffen under Kimbley’s ministrations, nails notwithstanding. He could feel the younger man squirm and twist as he tried to escape, but it was a fruitless endeavor and they both knew it.
This was the first act, the one full of passion and anger as the two main players did their best to outsmart one another. Kimbley knew that in his play, things would go his way, just as they were right now. The would-be hero was already imprisoned, but this time, there would be no helpful friends to help him escape; Roy would be out of the picture for a long while yet.
It was with great satisfaction that Kimbley watched this scene unfold before him, his eyes following the veins and lines that formed Jean as they rose, however unwillingly, to his touch. His plaything still struggled but by now his pained grunts and snarled words were nothing more than the background music playing in accompaniment to the picture that was occurring right before his eyes.
They too drew in everything they could. Starved so long of the beautiful sight of a struggling toy or an unwilling partner, his now full ears gave in and let his eyes drink in the sights he had so long only held in his memory. It was just like the first taste of alcohol, burning his throat after having been denied him for so long; it looked so good it almost hurt. Before long, Kimbley smirked as he sank to his knees; he wanted a better look before he let his lips take over.
By now Jean was more than frantic, pushed past the point of panic into that of terrified, mind-bending state of pure fear. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his body from responding to the touch of the man before him and that in and of itself made him shudder with revulsion; he never wanted Kimbley to even be near him, much less touch him like that.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he did his best to ignore how the man’s strange and sickening eyes roamed over him and for a moment, it actually worked. But, when Kimbley’s strange, thin lips suddenly slid over his shaft, surrounding him with a wet smack, Jean cried out, almost yanking his shoulder from its socket as he tried to escape whatever it was Kimbley was doing.
Being cut up and covered in blood was one thing; it was something to be expected and could be treated, as long as he made it out alive. But this… this was something so much worse. This was an invasion into his very being, yet there was not a single thing he could do about it. The thing that scared him most, though, was that any time this had happened before, it had been as a sign of mutual affection and love; now it was a terrifying mix of control and hidden agendas and he wanted nothing more than to get away from it.
He did everything he could to ignore what was happening to him, but Kimbley was too good. It was only a matter of moments before he felt something coiling deep in his stomach, a snake of sexual arousal and desire brought to life by the world’s most evil and sadistic man. It wasn’t that Jean enjoyed what was happening, but the lips that surrounded him were wet and warm and his body, unlike his mind, couldn’t tell the difference between the soft, thin, and loving lips of his partner and the cold, hard, evil ones that took him in now.
He did what he could to avoid what he knew was coming, but by now he was solid under the other man’s lips and tongue and there was nothing more he could do but clench his fists and try to ignore any fleeting feeling of pleasure that might flutter through his body. It was true that while right now, Kimbley wasn’t hurting him physically, the mental scars left would run deep. On top of that, this fake act of love and devotion only meant that when Kimbley felt it was time to pleasure himself, things would hurt that much more.
Sadly enough, the time when Jean found out that his assumptions were true came all too soon. Kimbley sucked and nibbled and tongued at him in a manner that strongly suggested he had gotten plenty of recent practice and before long, Jean could feel the warm, fuzzy coil of orgasm building higher and higher, peaking in a cry of strangled pleasure before throwing him over the edge.
Kimbley smirked around the cock between his lips as the sticky white fluid that resided within it finally spilled into his waiting mouth. Swallowing with ease, he waited until the other man was drained before pulling away and rocking back onto his heels, smirking up at his victim as he licked a few salty liquid drops from his lips, “And we’ve only just finished act one…”
Now that his mouth, just as his ears and eyes before, had finally gotten to taste the long denied and long awaited sin that had just released itself down his throat, he was ready to satisfy the other part of him that screamed for a release of its own. It was with languid ease that he rose to his feet, taking his time as though he had all he could ever want.
And have all he could ever want he did; after all, on the stage, time froze.
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter Four
To Really Free One’s Self: Chapter Five
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter Six
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter Seven
Chapter Title: Nothing More Than A Stage
Author: sull89
Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist
Pairing: Jean/Roy (Maes/Roy and Kimbley/Roy both alluded to as past relationships.)
Other Main Characters: Zolf Kimbley.
Rating: This chapter, NC-17. Story as a whole, NC-17.
Warning: In this chapter, not really explicit rape, but there is enough in it to merit an NC-17 rating
Summary: Finally free from prison, Kimbley decides to visit and old "friend" and ruin the life he had build for himself.
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter One
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter Two
In a matter of moments, Kimbley had Jean divested of his pants and boxers despite the younger’s vocal and physical protests. It was laughable, almost, how the poor pathetic kid thought thrashing his hands against the wall and yelling a few scared words at his captor was going to do anything. It was a mere side amusement to Kimbley, actually, the lead in act to a show that will leave both of them with an everlasting memory.
This is the show that Kimbley had been waiting almost a month and a half for; that glorious combination of physical pain, mental anguish, and bodily force that would push him over the edge and into an ocean of ecstasy. Of course, he knew the extravagance and brute, vicious beauty of it would be lost on the boy; some people just don’t understand real art when they see it, and Kimbley was ready to unleash the most poetically cruel vengeance he had ever been able to come up with.
It was a rush, and now, he was desperate for that curtain to open and his spectacular plans to come front and center. The stage was set it was finally time for the production to begin. With those delicious thoughts whirling around in his head, Kimbley finally let himself go, pouring out all the rage and anger and spite he had ever felt toward Roy Mustang as he yanked his hand down the other man’s soft and most sensitive organ, digging his nails into the tender flesh as he pumped some life into it.
The scream that reached his ears as soon as his hand came in contact with Jean’s skin was pure, unadulterated perfection to Kimbley, long starved of any of the real stimulation they craved. After all, the menial and worthless chatter of human beings was something that needed to be stomped out and killed; he had no patience for the so called “intellectual conversation” that so many others found fascinating; he was interested in something much more primal.
What he wanted to hear was the true raw emotion, the true pain that lie dormant behind facades of pleasant cheer far, far too often. He wanted to hear the screams and the sobs and the shouts of the tormented souls he liberated from those fake exteriors, listen as they poured their very hearts and minds out to him, all becoming part of the stunning act he put on as he showed them how pure their lives could really be.
So, it was with great pleasure that he allowed his show to begin. Despite what he knew were Jean’s best efforts to stop himself from getting hard, his dick was beginning to stiffen under Kimbley’s ministrations, nails notwithstanding. He could feel the younger man squirm and twist as he tried to escape, but it was a fruitless endeavor and they both knew it.
This was the first act, the one full of passion and anger as the two main players did their best to outsmart one another. Kimbley knew that in his play, things would go his way, just as they were right now. The would-be hero was already imprisoned, but this time, there would be no helpful friends to help him escape; Roy would be out of the picture for a long while yet.
It was with great satisfaction that Kimbley watched this scene unfold before him, his eyes following the veins and lines that formed Jean as they rose, however unwillingly, to his touch. His plaything still struggled but by now his pained grunts and snarled words were nothing more than the background music playing in accompaniment to the picture that was occurring right before his eyes.
They too drew in everything they could. Starved so long of the beautiful sight of a struggling toy or an unwilling partner, his now full ears gave in and let his eyes drink in the sights he had so long only held in his memory. It was just like the first taste of alcohol, burning his throat after having been denied him for so long; it looked so good it almost hurt. Before long, Kimbley smirked as he sank to his knees; he wanted a better look before he let his lips take over.
By now Jean was more than frantic, pushed past the point of panic into that of terrified, mind-bending state of pure fear. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his body from responding to the touch of the man before him and that in and of itself made him shudder with revulsion; he never wanted Kimbley to even be near him, much less touch him like that.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he did his best to ignore how the man’s strange and sickening eyes roamed over him and for a moment, it actually worked. But, when Kimbley’s strange, thin lips suddenly slid over his shaft, surrounding him with a wet smack, Jean cried out, almost yanking his shoulder from its socket as he tried to escape whatever it was Kimbley was doing.
Being cut up and covered in blood was one thing; it was something to be expected and could be treated, as long as he made it out alive. But this… this was something so much worse. This was an invasion into his very being, yet there was not a single thing he could do about it. The thing that scared him most, though, was that any time this had happened before, it had been as a sign of mutual affection and love; now it was a terrifying mix of control and hidden agendas and he wanted nothing more than to get away from it.
He did everything he could to ignore what was happening to him, but Kimbley was too good. It was only a matter of moments before he felt something coiling deep in his stomach, a snake of sexual arousal and desire brought to life by the world’s most evil and sadistic man. It wasn’t that Jean enjoyed what was happening, but the lips that surrounded him were wet and warm and his body, unlike his mind, couldn’t tell the difference between the soft, thin, and loving lips of his partner and the cold, hard, evil ones that took him in now.
He did what he could to avoid what he knew was coming, but by now he was solid under the other man’s lips and tongue and there was nothing more he could do but clench his fists and try to ignore any fleeting feeling of pleasure that might flutter through his body. It was true that while right now, Kimbley wasn’t hurting him physically, the mental scars left would run deep. On top of that, this fake act of love and devotion only meant that when Kimbley felt it was time to pleasure himself, things would hurt that much more.
Sadly enough, the time when Jean found out that his assumptions were true came all too soon. Kimbley sucked and nibbled and tongued at him in a manner that strongly suggested he had gotten plenty of recent practice and before long, Jean could feel the warm, fuzzy coil of orgasm building higher and higher, peaking in a cry of strangled pleasure before throwing him over the edge.
Kimbley smirked around the cock between his lips as the sticky white fluid that resided within it finally spilled into his waiting mouth. Swallowing with ease, he waited until the other man was drained before pulling away and rocking back onto his heels, smirking up at his victim as he licked a few salty liquid drops from his lips, “And we’ve only just finished act one…”
Now that his mouth, just as his ears and eyes before, had finally gotten to taste the long denied and long awaited sin that had just released itself down his throat, he was ready to satisfy the other part of him that screamed for a release of its own. It was with languid ease that he rose to his feet, taking his time as though he had all he could ever want.
And have all he could ever want he did; after all, on the stage, time froze.
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter Four
To Really Free One’s Self: Chapter Five
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter Six
To Really Free One's Self: Chapter Seven