Roy/Riza/Jean for 30threesomes [Theme 15; Temperance]
Title: Habitual [Theme # 15; Temperance]
Author: galuxkitty
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc
Rating: R
Word Count: 1012
Warnings: Brief descriptions of threesome sex at the end
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is the property of Hiromu Arakawa. This is a fanwork written purely for both your entertainment and mine.
Just a quickie (no pun intended) I had to get out of my brain. >_> Would not let me be until I wrote the little sucker; was orignally going to be for the 15minuteficlets weekly challenge but I thought "hey, I can go beyond this" and added more to the beginning.
Monday was always a regular day for ‘the triptych’, as Breda had so aptly nicknamed them, and eventually the nickname had become quite the in-joke between himself, Farman and Fuery. Today was the regular day; the calm amongst the chaos down to the final, satisfying detail. Today another squadron was on immediate call and they were only used as backup. Today the paperwork was a steady flow of simple documents, the higher-ups apparently not being able to immediately recover from the weekends they had off. Today, Breda was back from their half-day ready with new in-jokes (“The triptych? I should expect they’re in the fireplace signing off each other's papers...”) that made Farman give him blank, sarcastic looks and Fuery blush beet-red and beg him to be quiet.
Eventually, Mustang would emerge from his office tailed by his two blond Lieutenants, nod at his other three of his subordinates and all six of them would leave HQ for their biweekly inspection of the fire departments in town. After stopping a few times to allow their superior to receive gifts and letters of admiration from local women (much to the equal displeasure of Hawkeye and Havoc) and slowly go over every safety detail in all four main fire stations in Central City. They’d return to HQ in time for lunch in Mess - always dry, salty silverside with lumpy mashed potato, wrinkled beans but always accompanied by a commendable glass of fruit punch served by a bubbly young member of the kitchen staff; a redhead with huge breasts of which Havoc was naturally very fond.
They ate in near silence, occasionally punctuated by Fuery coughing at the overwhelming saltiness of the meat or Hawkeye giving the big lump of ‘something’ she’d extracted from her serving of mashed potato. They’d finish up, leave their plates and cutlery on the table and then journey back to their office, where their nearly complete paperwork awaited. Once the last document was signed and the last spelling error corrected by the ever-practical hands of Hawkeye and Farman, Roy would grab the chess set he had received from the General of East HQ (upon saying it was too early to marry his granddaughter; it certainly wasn’t the fact that he didn’t love her but more the fact he also loved ‘him’, and that ‘him’ and ‘her’ also loved each other and of course, that was where thing often got complicated for people who couldn’t quite understand their feelings).
Once Breda and Mustang were contentedly testing one another’s strategic wit, Havoc would grope around in his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter and soon enough the office would be filled with the thick stench of tobacco; sharp, burning, strangely comforting.
As Hawkeye settled to listen to Fuery gentle banter (mainly centered around Black Hayate) and Farman pulled up a chair to observe the ongoing chess match while Havoc was lost in his nicotine-induced bliss, Breda would smirk at his Colonel and swiftly take another black piece from the checkered playing board.
“So, Boss... ever thought of changing our Monday schedule to include something other that slacking off for this last half-hour?”
“Of course not, Second Lieutenant,” he replied jovially, “My Monday is just fine as is in my opinion. And I declare Check.”
“He’s cornered in your King pretty good with that Knight and Rook,” Farman observed, nodding slowly and scratching his chin.
“The Chief’s got you there,” Havoc commented, and Hawkeye nodded sagely; the pair didn’t really know the deep mechanics of the game but tended to gently tease whoever was losing because both men were stubborn enough to react.
Sure enough, Breda grunted his disapproval and moved his King.
They would often stay a little longer than they were required to allow time for the chess match to end; a victory to Mustang this week, in return for the brilliant comeback win of Breda the week before.
“Looks like you owe me a drink next time we’re headed in the way of the bar, Breda,” Mustang smirked and Breda scowled as Roy smugly put the delicate playing pieces away one by one. Once the board was stored safely in his desk draw, he would snap a salute that all of his subordinates returned.
“Farewell. I expect you al here on time in the morning.”
“Says you, Sir,” Hawkeye commented.
“Flattery gets you nowhere, Lieutenant!” he grinned in reply, “You’re all dismissed.”
And so they’d all make their own ways back to their own quarters; Fuery and Farman to their dorms where Farman would often scold Fuery for taking in another animal, Breda usually stopping by the bar down the road from HQ to have a game of poker against the regulars (but not before giving Mustang, Hawkeye and Havoc one last, sidelong, snide glance that Mustang and Havoc returned but which made Hawkeye sigh) and then the three of them would head for Roy’s apartment (the closest, least decorated, most convenient).
Once they were out of uniform the charade could be dropped and Roy was unsure whether to arch forward into his flushed First Lieutenant or rock backwards against Havoc’s slicked fingers.
“Yes,” he hissed; yes to all of it, yes to Hawkeye’s warm breath across his face, yes to her tongue sweeping softly across his brow to rid it of the swiftly budding beats of sweat, yes to her nipples brushing across his chest and making him shiver as she rocked her hips upward, taking him deeper into her body. Yes to Havoc slowly easing his cock into his body, yes to the light nip on the back of his neck, yes to the slow, insistent burn and yes to the combined sensation as all three of them started to move with a rhythm that had taken them months of fooling around and experimenting to utterly perfect.
And as the trio lay in the afterglow, warm and wet and close and perfect as Riza’s fingers flexed against his bare stomach and Havoc toyed with his hair, Roy surmised that normality and routine could be just as good as the unexpected.
END
GK loves Roy-In-The-Middle comments. :D
Author: galuxkitty
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang/Jean Havoc
Rating: R
Word Count: 1012
Warnings: Brief descriptions of threesome sex at the end
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is the property of Hiromu Arakawa. This is a fanwork written purely for both your entertainment and mine.
Just a quickie (no pun intended) I had to get out of my brain. >_> Would not let me be until I wrote the little sucker; was orignally going to be for the 15minuteficlets weekly challenge but I thought "hey, I can go beyond this" and added more to the beginning.
Monday was always a regular day for ‘the triptych’, as Breda had so aptly nicknamed them, and eventually the nickname had become quite the in-joke between himself, Farman and Fuery. Today was the regular day; the calm amongst the chaos down to the final, satisfying detail. Today another squadron was on immediate call and they were only used as backup. Today the paperwork was a steady flow of simple documents, the higher-ups apparently not being able to immediately recover from the weekends they had off. Today, Breda was back from their half-day ready with new in-jokes (“The triptych? I should expect they’re in the fireplace signing off each other's papers...”) that made Farman give him blank, sarcastic looks and Fuery blush beet-red and beg him to be quiet.
Eventually, Mustang would emerge from his office tailed by his two blond Lieutenants, nod at his other three of his subordinates and all six of them would leave HQ for their biweekly inspection of the fire departments in town. After stopping a few times to allow their superior to receive gifts and letters of admiration from local women (much to the equal displeasure of Hawkeye and Havoc) and slowly go over every safety detail in all four main fire stations in Central City. They’d return to HQ in time for lunch in Mess - always dry, salty silverside with lumpy mashed potato, wrinkled beans but always accompanied by a commendable glass of fruit punch served by a bubbly young member of the kitchen staff; a redhead with huge breasts of which Havoc was naturally very fond.
They ate in near silence, occasionally punctuated by Fuery coughing at the overwhelming saltiness of the meat or Hawkeye giving the big lump of ‘something’ she’d extracted from her serving of mashed potato. They’d finish up, leave their plates and cutlery on the table and then journey back to their office, where their nearly complete paperwork awaited. Once the last document was signed and the last spelling error corrected by the ever-practical hands of Hawkeye and Farman, Roy would grab the chess set he had received from the General of East HQ (upon saying it was too early to marry his granddaughter; it certainly wasn’t the fact that he didn’t love her but more the fact he also loved ‘him’, and that ‘him’ and ‘her’ also loved each other and of course, that was where thing often got complicated for people who couldn’t quite understand their feelings).
Once Breda and Mustang were contentedly testing one another’s strategic wit, Havoc would grope around in his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter and soon enough the office would be filled with the thick stench of tobacco; sharp, burning, strangely comforting.
As Hawkeye settled to listen to Fuery gentle banter (mainly centered around Black Hayate) and Farman pulled up a chair to observe the ongoing chess match while Havoc was lost in his nicotine-induced bliss, Breda would smirk at his Colonel and swiftly take another black piece from the checkered playing board.
“So, Boss... ever thought of changing our Monday schedule to include something other that slacking off for this last half-hour?”
“Of course not, Second Lieutenant,” he replied jovially, “My Monday is just fine as is in my opinion. And I declare Check.”
“He’s cornered in your King pretty good with that Knight and Rook,” Farman observed, nodding slowly and scratching his chin.
“The Chief’s got you there,” Havoc commented, and Hawkeye nodded sagely; the pair didn’t really know the deep mechanics of the game but tended to gently tease whoever was losing because both men were stubborn enough to react.
Sure enough, Breda grunted his disapproval and moved his King.
They would often stay a little longer than they were required to allow time for the chess match to end; a victory to Mustang this week, in return for the brilliant comeback win of Breda the week before.
“Looks like you owe me a drink next time we’re headed in the way of the bar, Breda,” Mustang smirked and Breda scowled as Roy smugly put the delicate playing pieces away one by one. Once the board was stored safely in his desk draw, he would snap a salute that all of his subordinates returned.
“Farewell. I expect you al here on time in the morning.”
“Says you, Sir,” Hawkeye commented.
“Flattery gets you nowhere, Lieutenant!” he grinned in reply, “You’re all dismissed.”
And so they’d all make their own ways back to their own quarters; Fuery and Farman to their dorms where Farman would often scold Fuery for taking in another animal, Breda usually stopping by the bar down the road from HQ to have a game of poker against the regulars (but not before giving Mustang, Hawkeye and Havoc one last, sidelong, snide glance that Mustang and Havoc returned but which made Hawkeye sigh) and then the three of them would head for Roy’s apartment (the closest, least decorated, most convenient).
Once they were out of uniform the charade could be dropped and Roy was unsure whether to arch forward into his flushed First Lieutenant or rock backwards against Havoc’s slicked fingers.
“Yes,” he hissed; yes to all of it, yes to Hawkeye’s warm breath across his face, yes to her tongue sweeping softly across his brow to rid it of the swiftly budding beats of sweat, yes to her nipples brushing across his chest and making him shiver as she rocked her hips upward, taking him deeper into her body. Yes to Havoc slowly easing his cock into his body, yes to the light nip on the back of his neck, yes to the slow, insistent burn and yes to the combined sensation as all three of them started to move with a rhythm that had taken them months of fooling around and experimenting to utterly perfect.
And as the trio lay in the afterglow, warm and wet and close and perfect as Riza’s fingers flexed against his bare stomach and Havoc toyed with his hair, Roy surmised that normality and routine could be just as good as the unexpected.
END
GK loves Roy-In-The-Middle comments. :D