[Fic] FMA - RoyxHughes - Persistence of Memory
Title: Persistence of Memory
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: HughesxRoy (or RoyxHughes)
Author: Dogmatix
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1515
Prompt: "Hughes helps Roy into (or out of) his new dress uniform. Uniform/boot fetish! [Note: If sex, don't care who tops]." Request by ponderosa121
Summary: Roy brings homunculus!Hughes dinner. Hughes surprises Roy. And that's about it. PWP, really.
Warnings: Well, this is where I usually list yaoi, but under the circumstances....
Also, great thanks to forgottenlover for help w/ the fic and beta-work. :)
Persistence of Memory
Roy closed the door softly behind him, cutting off the spill of sunlight into the silent room. A slow, deep breath re-familiarized him with the somewhat dank, almost musty room. Beside the door was a lamp, turned down low, which was the only light source in the room.
Roy took a moment to let his eye adjust. A shape shifted in the gloom, someone sitting upright. The soft lamplight glinted off the metal strung beteen the figure's hands. Roy sighed as he walked towards his friend, boot heels clacking loudly on the stone floor. He always left Hughes on the bed, and always found him waiting patiently in the center of the room, lying curled up on his side.
"Hello, Maes," he said in greeting, "Sitting on the floor again? You know that's not good for you."
The reasonable part of him insisted that it was just because the chain to the shackles was anchored there, but there was always the shiver at the nape of his neck that refused to accept it. After all, that was where the array had been. That was where Hughes had first come back; gasping and twitching, pain-filled eyes fixed pleadingly on Roy.
Roy had been as ready as anyone could have been. He'd lived through the war, still lived with it now. He'd seen the Elrics' house after their attempt. He was no stranger to mutilation or atrocities. It had still been a struggle.
"They brought in another batch of red stones today. The alchemist who made them didn't survive." The Flame Alchemist wasn't expecting a reply, not really, not yet. "I couldn't get much this time, sorry."
Hand stuffed in his mouth to keep from screaming or worse, Roy had crawled on shaking knees towards the mess of limbs and exposed organs. He'd collected Hughes gently in his arms, talked to him, explained through his tears even though he knew he wasn't being understood.
He'd fed him his first few crumbs of red stone. And slowly, over the days - weeks - that followed, Hughes had healed. At least in body. Though certain echoes of Maes Hughes still remained, his mind had been a blank slate. Roy didn't know if he was doing the right thing by keeping Hughes isolated down here, slowly re-teaching him. But it was the only option he could see.
"Give me your hands," Roy said softly, holding out his own to his kneeling friend.
Head tilted to one side, Hughes looked at him, unnatural purple eyes calculating and thoughtful.
"Hands," Roy repeated. Hughes lifted his hands slowly, shackles clinking lightly against one another. Roy took hold of the metal, bringing out a key. A second later, the metal cuffs fell to the floor with a solid clank.
The shackles couldn't really keep the homunculus anymore if he decided otherwise, but he seemed content to let them be, a steady reminder of where he should stay.
"Take off my glove," Roy instructed, holding out his left hand, palm up, for Hughes' inspection. Roy had always previously taken his gloves off himself, but was trying to teach Hughes how to use his hands. The last ceramic cup had survived, so Roy felt relatively safe. The homunculus looked puzzled for a moment, ran fingertips lightly over the white material. Then his hands dropped back down to the floor, and Roy sighed. Maybe he was expecting too much.
Pressure on his fingers, and Roy's eye snapped open. Hughes was nuzzling his glove, lips slipping slowly over white tips. Roy's breath caught - Hughes wasn't even speaking yet but he remembered this?
With soft, warm, lips now around Roy's fingertips, teeth not yet blunted by years of use started to scrape lightly over the material. Biting his lip against the shivers of pleasure, Roy looked on anxiously.
He had several healing bitemarks on his fingers already, and though Hughes had been getting better about knowing his own strength Roy was by no means certain he wouldn't be nursing another bloody finger by the end of the day. Hand-feeding a new homunculus red stones with bare fingers probably wasn't the smartest habit Roy had ever fallen into, but a few nips and bites were a small price to pay for the happiness Hughes seemed to get from it.
Hughes was a fast learner, it seemed, for teeth dragged the glove's finger down to a point before clamping shut on it, catching only the fabric. And tugged sharply. He did remember. Roy was caught between mortification and jubilation.
Roy's breath came faster as Hughes repeated the action four more times, ending with his thumb. The scratch of teeth and the wet warmth of lips through the glove was making it difficult to think straight.
Now able to get a solid grip on the loose material, Hughes got the glove off in a single strong pull.
The air was cool on his bare hand, leaving him feeling unaccountably vulnerable. The glove fell softly on top of the shackles, forgotten by both of them as Hughes softly traced a healing bitemark with his tongue.
A broad, wet swipe of tongue from fingertips to wrist made Roy twitch and his breath catch, and apparently signaled that his friend was done with that hand. Scooting closer, Hughes moved his attention to the alchemist's clenched right hand. The array received particular attention, Hughes nipping softly at the red lines before trailing slowly down the fingers.
White cloth tips caught in a playful grip, and the process started over again. Roy's hand tingled as the glove was tugged over it in fits and starts, feeling every milimeter of it with hyper-sensitive skin that sent shivers of goosebumps like ripples through his entire body.
With the gloves off, Hughes moved to other territory. It was a good thing Roy had always seen Hughes as amnesiac rather than as a child, because there was nothing childlike about the way the homunculus was brushing his cheek against the front of Roy's pants. Glove-less hands found themselves trailing through Hughes' short black hair.
There was no possible way to pretend he wasn't rock hard by that stage, and Roy moaned harshly as Hughes brought his hands up to feel out where the shirt tucked into his pants. Untucking the shirt went quickly, but the pants became a center of vexation for Hughes as he picked at the buttons, fingers poking and tugging until one popped open almost by accident.
The homunculus glanced up at Roy with a triumphant smirk that was purely Hughes. That, as much as if not more than the second button being opened, made Roy flush with heat. Roy strongly suspected he was wearing a silly grin.
Which was brought up short when his pants fell down around his boots. "Maes, stop," Roy said in a low voice, brushing his thumb over a smooth cheek and pushing his friend gently away. "Maes..." and now what? 'I don't trust you'? 'Watch the teeth'?
Before he could settle on something, anything, Hughes turned his head slightly, taking one of Roy's fingers between his lips.
And slowly, evenly, and being very careful of his teeth, the homunculus gave Roy's finger a mock-blowjob. Even with the dim lighting, Roy caught the look of merry deviltry in Hughes' eyes.
He wasn't sure if he said anything else, because Hughes started running strong, warm fingers up and down his cock, and Roy didn't care if it was memory or natural talent just as long as he didn't stop. Hughes switched from finger to cock without missing a beat, and Roy's joints melted with pleasure as Hughes showed that he knew exactly what he was doing. On edge and breathing hard, moans and words slipping unheeded past his lips, he gripped solid, well-muscled shoulders just to stay upright. Roy felt the rush of orgasm at the edge of his senses, powerless to stop it and crying out as it crashed over him in a convulsive white fire.
Comfortable and content, Roy found that the floor wasn't really that bad, at least not when he was lying mostly on the warm, solid weight of his resurrected friend. Who was stroking his hair. And giving him a hopeful look. Various scenarios ran through Roy's head, but a discreet check with a shuffled leg showed that Hughes had taken care of himself. Which was kind of disappointing.
Of course there was a perfectly obvious answer, he realized. Twisting around, he retrieved the small pouch from his pants pocket, pulling up his pants while he was at it because lying on a stone floor with your pants around your boots wasn't very dignifying at all.
Small pebbles of red stone tumbled out onto Roy's palm, and sharp purple eyes watched them avidly. Roy would have brought more if he could have, but even a Brigadier General could only disappear so much 'illegal' (which in practice meant 'non-military') red stone. Curling up virtually on top of Hughes, Roy shared a grin with the homunculus, picked up the first bit, and slipped it between his friend and lover's lips.
Fin.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: HughesxRoy (or RoyxHughes)
Author: Dogmatix
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1515
Prompt: "Hughes helps Roy into (or out of) his new dress uniform. Uniform/boot fetish! [Note: If sex, don't care who tops]." Request by ponderosa121
Summary: Roy brings homunculus!Hughes dinner. Hughes surprises Roy. And that's about it. PWP, really.
Warnings: Well, this is where I usually list yaoi, but under the circumstances....
Also, great thanks to forgottenlover for help w/ the fic and beta-work. :)
Persistence of Memory
Roy closed the door softly behind him, cutting off the spill of sunlight into the silent room. A slow, deep breath re-familiarized him with the somewhat dank, almost musty room. Beside the door was a lamp, turned down low, which was the only light source in the room.
Roy took a moment to let his eye adjust. A shape shifted in the gloom, someone sitting upright. The soft lamplight glinted off the metal strung beteen the figure's hands. Roy sighed as he walked towards his friend, boot heels clacking loudly on the stone floor. He always left Hughes on the bed, and always found him waiting patiently in the center of the room, lying curled up on his side.
"Hello, Maes," he said in greeting, "Sitting on the floor again? You know that's not good for you."
The reasonable part of him insisted that it was just because the chain to the shackles was anchored there, but there was always the shiver at the nape of his neck that refused to accept it. After all, that was where the array had been. That was where Hughes had first come back; gasping and twitching, pain-filled eyes fixed pleadingly on Roy.
Roy had been as ready as anyone could have been. He'd lived through the war, still lived with it now. He'd seen the Elrics' house after their attempt. He was no stranger to mutilation or atrocities. It had still been a struggle.
"They brought in another batch of red stones today. The alchemist who made them didn't survive." The Flame Alchemist wasn't expecting a reply, not really, not yet. "I couldn't get much this time, sorry."
Hand stuffed in his mouth to keep from screaming or worse, Roy had crawled on shaking knees towards the mess of limbs and exposed organs. He'd collected Hughes gently in his arms, talked to him, explained through his tears even though he knew he wasn't being understood.
He'd fed him his first few crumbs of red stone. And slowly, over the days - weeks - that followed, Hughes had healed. At least in body. Though certain echoes of Maes Hughes still remained, his mind had been a blank slate. Roy didn't know if he was doing the right thing by keeping Hughes isolated down here, slowly re-teaching him. But it was the only option he could see.
"Give me your hands," Roy said softly, holding out his own to his kneeling friend.
Head tilted to one side, Hughes looked at him, unnatural purple eyes calculating and thoughtful.
"Hands," Roy repeated. Hughes lifted his hands slowly, shackles clinking lightly against one another. Roy took hold of the metal, bringing out a key. A second later, the metal cuffs fell to the floor with a solid clank.
The shackles couldn't really keep the homunculus anymore if he decided otherwise, but he seemed content to let them be, a steady reminder of where he should stay.
"Take off my glove," Roy instructed, holding out his left hand, palm up, for Hughes' inspection. Roy had always previously taken his gloves off himself, but was trying to teach Hughes how to use his hands. The last ceramic cup had survived, so Roy felt relatively safe. The homunculus looked puzzled for a moment, ran fingertips lightly over the white material. Then his hands dropped back down to the floor, and Roy sighed. Maybe he was expecting too much.
Pressure on his fingers, and Roy's eye snapped open. Hughes was nuzzling his glove, lips slipping slowly over white tips. Roy's breath caught - Hughes wasn't even speaking yet but he remembered this?
With soft, warm, lips now around Roy's fingertips, teeth not yet blunted by years of use started to scrape lightly over the material. Biting his lip against the shivers of pleasure, Roy looked on anxiously.
He had several healing bitemarks on his fingers already, and though Hughes had been getting better about knowing his own strength Roy was by no means certain he wouldn't be nursing another bloody finger by the end of the day. Hand-feeding a new homunculus red stones with bare fingers probably wasn't the smartest habit Roy had ever fallen into, but a few nips and bites were a small price to pay for the happiness Hughes seemed to get from it.
Hughes was a fast learner, it seemed, for teeth dragged the glove's finger down to a point before clamping shut on it, catching only the fabric. And tugged sharply. He did remember. Roy was caught between mortification and jubilation.
Roy's breath came faster as Hughes repeated the action four more times, ending with his thumb. The scratch of teeth and the wet warmth of lips through the glove was making it difficult to think straight.
Now able to get a solid grip on the loose material, Hughes got the glove off in a single strong pull.
The air was cool on his bare hand, leaving him feeling unaccountably vulnerable. The glove fell softly on top of the shackles, forgotten by both of them as Hughes softly traced a healing bitemark with his tongue.
A broad, wet swipe of tongue from fingertips to wrist made Roy twitch and his breath catch, and apparently signaled that his friend was done with that hand. Scooting closer, Hughes moved his attention to the alchemist's clenched right hand. The array received particular attention, Hughes nipping softly at the red lines before trailing slowly down the fingers.
White cloth tips caught in a playful grip, and the process started over again. Roy's hand tingled as the glove was tugged over it in fits and starts, feeling every milimeter of it with hyper-sensitive skin that sent shivers of goosebumps like ripples through his entire body.
With the gloves off, Hughes moved to other territory. It was a good thing Roy had always seen Hughes as amnesiac rather than as a child, because there was nothing childlike about the way the homunculus was brushing his cheek against the front of Roy's pants. Glove-less hands found themselves trailing through Hughes' short black hair.
There was no possible way to pretend he wasn't rock hard by that stage, and Roy moaned harshly as Hughes brought his hands up to feel out where the shirt tucked into his pants. Untucking the shirt went quickly, but the pants became a center of vexation for Hughes as he picked at the buttons, fingers poking and tugging until one popped open almost by accident.
The homunculus glanced up at Roy with a triumphant smirk that was purely Hughes. That, as much as if not more than the second button being opened, made Roy flush with heat. Roy strongly suspected he was wearing a silly grin.
Which was brought up short when his pants fell down around his boots. "Maes, stop," Roy said in a low voice, brushing his thumb over a smooth cheek and pushing his friend gently away. "Maes..." and now what? 'I don't trust you'? 'Watch the teeth'?
Before he could settle on something, anything, Hughes turned his head slightly, taking one of Roy's fingers between his lips.
And slowly, evenly, and being very careful of his teeth, the homunculus gave Roy's finger a mock-blowjob. Even with the dim lighting, Roy caught the look of merry deviltry in Hughes' eyes.
He wasn't sure if he said anything else, because Hughes started running strong, warm fingers up and down his cock, and Roy didn't care if it was memory or natural talent just as long as he didn't stop. Hughes switched from finger to cock without missing a beat, and Roy's joints melted with pleasure as Hughes showed that he knew exactly what he was doing. On edge and breathing hard, moans and words slipping unheeded past his lips, he gripped solid, well-muscled shoulders just to stay upright. Roy felt the rush of orgasm at the edge of his senses, powerless to stop it and crying out as it crashed over him in a convulsive white fire.
Comfortable and content, Roy found that the floor wasn't really that bad, at least not when he was lying mostly on the warm, solid weight of his resurrected friend. Who was stroking his hair. And giving him a hopeful look. Various scenarios ran through Roy's head, but a discreet check with a shuffled leg showed that Hughes had taken care of himself. Which was kind of disappointing.
Of course there was a perfectly obvious answer, he realized. Twisting around, he retrieved the small pouch from his pants pocket, pulling up his pants while he was at it because lying on a stone floor with your pants around your boots wasn't very dignifying at all.
Small pebbles of red stone tumbled out onto Roy's palm, and sharp purple eyes watched them avidly. Roy would have brought more if he could have, but even a Brigadier General could only disappear so much 'illegal' (which in practice meant 'non-military') red stone. Curling up virtually on top of Hughes, Roy shared a grin with the homunculus, picked up the first bit, and slipped it between his friend and lover's lips.
Fin.