Mara (jadedsilk) wrote in fma_yaoi,
Mara
jadedsilk
fma_yaoi

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[Title]From the Ashes
[Author] Mara D (Watarisgirl/Lady Jade)
[Series] Fullmetal Alchemist
[Pairing] MaesxRoy
[Rating] WAY Nc17
[Spoilers?] Yes. About Roy's past, and about Hughes, if you have never met him before.
[Chatter] Wow, just...this came out weird. I don't know if this turned out just how I wanted it and more, or not at all, but enjoy ^_^



~*~

“What the hell are you doing up?!”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

Maes plopped down on the arm of the couch next to Roy, golden eyes almost brown in the dark. He was in a pair of sleep pants and nothing else, bare torso perfect and pale in the moonlight, dark hair caressed to nearly a chocolate by the fading light of the moon. Drowningly handsome. Roy quickly glanced away.

Not receiving a reply which he damn fool well knew the answer to anyways, Maes Hughes yawned and stretched. While he was yawning, he was talking.

“Do you have any idea what time of the morning it is?”

Roy nodded sharply, dark eyes unblinking.

“It is three thirty three AM and the planet Venus is highest on the horizon. The neighbors came home drunk at one AM, and their son snuck out at one fifteen. The garbage men came at two AM and…”

“Sweet Ishbala Roy!”

Roy sighed then, turning his head irritably, eyes narrowed.

“What do you want me to say?!” Roy spat, his voice low and trembling around the edges.

“How about, Maes old pal? I had a nightmare, can you sit up with me for a while? Play cards? Have a drink?”

“That’s ridiculous.” Roy snapped. “I don’t need you to hold my hand.”

“I don’t want to hold your hand, you’d barbecue me.” Hughes said, wolfish smile painting his face as he amused himself.

Roy grunted at him and then reduced himself to sulking.

“But I have no problem sitting shoulder to shoulder with you and talking. Hell, just sitting here. I wouldn’t be staying in your apartment if you didn’t need me.”

“I can’t afford all the utilities, even on a Colonel’s salary. I needed a roommate, and you lost your place when those rebels hunted you down and jumped your complex trying to kill you.”

“I brought pie before I asked if I could stay.” Hughes said humbly, kicking his bare feet together, making his ankle bones click.

He left unsaid how much it had worked out, because of the state he had found Roy in, and how he had /needed/ a place to stay, and so it was settled that way. He was worried about Roy, still. Just because the man wasn’t at death’s door anymore, didn’t mean he was better.

The first few days had been spent trying to coax Roy out of the bathroom, away from the guns, to put the knife down, and to sit down. Relax. Read a book, have a drink. Chat. Anything.

Roy knew he was running away from everything, or more like falteringly trying to.

Hughes was /looking/ at him like that again, and he didn’t know why.

“What?!” Roy snapped.

“Let go Roy.” Hughes murmured, his expression doing one of its patented two second changes from jokingly serious to soft.

“What the hell are you talking about. Stop looking at me like that.” Roy hissed, scooting a bit further away, like the moonlight burned him, like the look in Hughes’ eyes burned him.

Hughes followed him over the arm of the sofa, sprawling gracelessly from the arm to the cushion and then pursuing him further over, gaze still strong.

“Let go of what?” Roy glared at the golden eyed man and knew without a doubt what he meant.

“Roy, you can’t keep it inside like this. Fire is your element, and it burns hot. You can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. Have you cried?” Hughes asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Roy spat, bristling and defensive.

“It /will/ kill you Mustang.”

“Leave me alone, who made you the expert?” Roy growled, finally reaching the other end of the couch and the arm and could go no further, so he just stood.

Hughes followed him, mirroring his motions, standing enough taller than Roy that it was almost intimidating, or at least, it would have been if Hughes hadn’t been standing beside him instead of in front of him.

The man was broader than him, taller, just enough taller that once in a great while Roy wondered what it would be like to hide in the hollow of that shoulder. To just rest his head and…

/no/

Roy was frustrated, dark eyes glittering dangerously, unkempt hair falling into his eyes, unshaven face serious.

The back of Hughes’ hand brushed Roy’s, and Roy physically flinched. Casual touch had never been anything between them. They were soldiers, they had seen each other naked before. Quite often. Casual hugs, smiles, sparring. It had never been beyond either of them. Hands brushing as they passed a bottle back and forth. But now Hughes’ touch was like poison, like liquid pain because it was so subtle and not humiliating and /kind/ and he didn’t deserve that and he was afraid he would shatter…

He couldn’t shatter. It would disintegrate him.

Hughes was touching him again, and again he jerked away.

He was stepping back and the bigger man was in front of him then, a step forward, a step back. This progressed, Roy drowning in gentle gold until the coffee table took his knee out from under him and he staggered against the wall.

He was losing, and Hughes knew it. (He also suspected, knowing the intelligence officer that he wondered sort of sickly how far he could back Roy up before he gave. This must have answered the question, because Hughes made a soft little acquiescing sigh and stopped. Finally, just short of touching Roy’s cheek with two outstretched fingers.)

Roy closed his eyes and turned his head. He couldn’t stop Hughes because he was frozen, broken, bleeding inside and he /needed/ support and touch, he needed something, anything, and he didn’t want to look weak, incapable, as broken as he was, to accept it. This was the only way he could cling to what was holding him together. His anger. His resolve. His stubborn need to…

A warm hand cupped his cheek, and instead of the angry words he meant to say, something jumbled between brain and mouth and the only sound to come out was a needy and pained little moan.

It echoed in the room damningly, coming mockingly back to Roy’s ears.

“You need this.” Maes whispered sadly. “I know you do.”

“I don’t…need…n…anything…” Roy gasped, eyes still closed, head turned away.

But the touch felt so inviting, so warm.

Hughes didn’t mean this. Hughes liked women, not his best friend.

Roy was the pervert. The broken one. The fuckup.

Hughes was only worried about him, nothing more. But oh how warm that touch felt…

There was a body against his then, hands away from his head and hitting the wall on either side of his shoulders.

“You need to sleep.” The words were whispered against his forehead before there was a silky soft brush of lips.

Roy flinched, cracking the back of his head into the wall, eyes flying open.

He planted an open palm against Hughes’ sternum, preparing fully to shove the other man away. Roy’s eyes held deadly resolve, an almost embittered hatred as he glared at Hughes. The golden eyed man was not deterred though.

Hughes leaned into the open palm, leaned until Roy’s elbow was back against the wall and all leverage was lost.

Roy shuddered, starting to shake. Why couldn’t he push Hughes away? Why could he not do this? Why was he trembling?

“Roy?” Hughes asked, his voice knowing and questioning at the same time.

“C…” He began, more of a sound than the beginning of a word. Spluttering. “Cold…” He whimpered.

His face felt numb, his hands heavy and cold except where he was touching Hughes’ bare chest. The warmth was twisting up his arm, working its way into his shoulder and down to some place under his ribs. He gasped, a choking, tearless and soundless sob shaking his body like a hiccup.

“I’m so cold…” He pleaded, and he didn’t even recognize his voice. He also hadn’t told himself to say anything. He hadn’t planned on even communicating that, but now he had and he couldn’t take it back, and Hughes was stepping closer, the hands that had him caged against the wall sliding slowly under Roy’s armpits, sliding bare and warm around his pajama shirt and slowly pulling Roy away from the wall and towards the solid and heavy warmth of that tanned chest.

Roy went without a sound. Finally falling into those arms. Tense, still tense, but now responding. He did as he had always wanted to do, burying his face into that proud shoulder, and slowly pressing them together, taking a step closer to push them together from hip to shoulder. Warm. Maes was so warm.

When had he, the flame alchemist, become so cold?

The flame had gone out.

Was that why he felt like this?

He had turned down every friendly invitation to duel from his well meaning alchemist friends. But he couldn’t do it. He could not snap his fingers without seeing the look in that child’s eyes. He did not trust his alchemy. He did not trust his Fuhrer, he did not trust living, and above all, he did not trust himself.

He was shut down.

But Maes was trying to show him. Show him that this warmth…this warmth was all right. Roy knew that it would worm its way inside, break him open, pull the phoenix of his soul from its cold cold ashes.

And he didn’t know if he wanted that.

He also didn’t know if he didn’t. Because he was leaning into Maes like a man dying of thirst presses his lips to a glass of water. He didn’t want to do this, because he was afraid to face it. Admit to himself, he had committed horrible crimes. Not just against others at the bidding of a madman. But against himself.

“No!” He sobbed again quietly against Hughes, his fingers splaying out across that powerful back muscle, curling a bit, digging in. If it hurt, Maes made no sign of it. The arms around him were warm, strong, tender. Careful.

“Don’t fight so hard.” Maes murmured into his ear, this time, a hot mouth was descending to side of Roy’s neck, hesitantly tasting.

The sensations shot straight to the shattered ends of Roy’s nerves, heat spilling down up and down his spine and tingling into his fingertips, the warmth spreading. The kiss had been uncertain, but had been hot and open mouthed. Roy shuddered, his body arching into the touch even as he made a conflicted sound.

“Why?!” Roy choked brokenly as he closed his eyes for fear of the dampness gathering under the lids.

“I’ve known…I’ve always known…Roy, let me make you burn.” Hughes breathed, another hot kiss, this at the junction of throat and shoulder.

“Ahhhn.” Roy whimpered in reply, shuddering, feeling it start. Feeling the cracking of barely scabbed soul, feeling the heat and comfort and love pouring into his skin through the sheer heat of Maes’ touch.

He couldn’t give in.

Oh but how he wanted to.

Maes knew his darkest secret, even darker than Ishbal and it made him feel violated.

“You weren’t supposed to…kn…”

Hughes’ hot mouth closing over his Adam’s apple stopped the rest of the word.

“Come to bed.” Hughes growled softly.

“I c…”

“Yes. You can…I will make the cold go away. I swear it.”

Roy tilted his head back, still trembling as Hughes’ gold eyes met his with a shock. He wanted to be angry, defensive, but he couldn’t when the star of seemingly ever wet dream he had had in the last four years was holding him like this.

Part of him wanted to scream to be ripped open, turned inside out, used, abused, anything so that he could feel something but this dull and heavy ache under his ribs, the sickly pain that was like a stomachache but had more distinctly to do with the heart and soul.

He pushed it through his eyes in a look, a gaze that told Hughes what he wanted, needed, that the other returned with one of the gentlest and most open looks Roy had ever seen grace that cheerful face.

“I promise.” Hughes breathed.

~*~

He didn’t remember how he got into his bedroom with Hughes, but when he got there, (The room with it’s obviously untouched bed, it’s uniform pressed and on a hanger on a nail in the wall) he knew this was real. Not a dream, real. Real as the warm hand that was carding through the clipped hair at the nape of his neck and pressing their mouth’s together.

Roy could do nothing at first.

He was already so hard it hurt…this had been a fantasy for so long, a deep dark and secret one, and now Hughes’ mouth was on his, his lips softer, more tender than Roy could ever have imagined.

He whimpered in surrender into the unsure kiss, still a bit frozen but his body reminding him that there were appropriate responses, even in strange situations like this.

He wasn’t going to say no.

Maybe that was terribly wrong of him.

But he wasn’t going to say no.

He was as afraid as he was not when he finally began to kiss back, his strong hands kneading at the nape of Hughes’s neck, as he pulled away, gasping for air before diving in for another kiss. This time one that he let Hughes in on, his warm tongue was caressing at Roy’s mouth for access and Roy moaned lowly and shuddered, but let him in.

He tasted like coffee, air, and nothing at the same time, hot and wet. Slippery inside Roy’s mouth.

Hughes still felt a bit stiff, sort of awkward where Roy’s hands rested, curled helplessly now between tanned and bare shoulderblades. Hughes was determined though, and those powerful hands slid down first the back, and then around to the front of Roy’s pajama top. Uncertain, a bit anxious and eager and…trembling. Yet there was determination there too.

Roy had no doubts that Hughes had never done this before. He also had no doubts as whether the man planned to carry through. He never started anything he didn’t plan to finish. His first clue was the nimble fingers slowly undoing buttons. As he bared inch after inch of Roy’s sleek chest, his fingers curiously caressed.

It didn’t matter if Hughes had seen the whole show before, to actually touch…to…

“Mhhh God!” Roy cried out softly as Hughes’ warm mouth tasted the skin of his sternum, his collar bones.

Looking down all he could see was chocolate dark hair and a flash of tongue while the bigger man bent, nuzzling his pajama top aside, pushing it open and past his shoulders with patient hands while a tongue curled curiously at his nipple.

Roy had always been a quiet, focused lover, his fire enough to carry him seriously through any sexual situation with finesse and skill. Now? Maybe it was because the fire had died, but he found himself helpless under the sensations rioting in his brain and across his skin.

This was…different.

Hughes wasn’t his lover, he was his best friend, and for this, for this to happen…like this…

He stiffened again for a moment, fighting minutely.

“No, don’t fight me.” Hughes murmured, tongue flicking out across Roy’s collarbones again.

Roy dissolved.

He was vaguely aware of his shirt falling to the floor with a rustle, with the moonlight coming through the blinds, casting lines of silver and shadow at irregular intervals.

He closed his eyes then, when his pants went, knife calloused hands stroking over the bare skin of his hips, stroking around, underneath, above his need curiously. The sound of more fabric hitting the floor. There was a breath stealing touch of hard body against hard body, Hughes’ skin so hot it burned against Roy, against the cold where he stepped up against him, hands sliding around his waist and their needs brushing.

Roy’s knees buckled and he went down helplessly.

Strong hands caught him as he fell, guiding him back to the bed, supportive, strong.

“I’ll catch you…” Hughes murmured. “I will always catch you.”

Roy cried out, those words tearing something open inside of him. His eyes opened slowly, squinted, tiny tears forming in the corners, his breath coming in minuscule little gasps.

“Give it up Roy.” Hughes murmured, golden eyes still warm, except where they were hungry.

Roy had seen a cat look at a baby bird like that once. It was frightening. That look was normally Roy’s. That was his look, not friendly golden Maes’. He wanted to cry, he was terrified, aroused and alarmed and bleeding inside now, despite his best intentions.

“Do you…know…how?” Roy asked softly as he went limp under strong hands, leaning back into the duvet cover, forcing himself to breathe, to pay attention to nothing but the reality of what Maes was offering him. A dream. A dream come true, love. Love. He did love Maes, but for that very reason he did not know how to return it. He had never really been in love before, and so this…this puzzle was a mystery. A mystery that he didn’t have all the pieces for.

Maes shook his head, looking a bit uncertain.

Roy knew. Roy had had lovers of both sexes, though his knowledge with males was more limited.

“You need…something…” Roy said, trying to make his brain engage.

Maes nodded, oh, so he knew that much.

“Do you have anything?”

“Drawer.” Roy gasped, feeling something frightened and hot crawling up the inside of his sternum.

This was real. This was going to happen, and then what?

“What will?” Roy began to speak as he watched Maes rummage in the bedside drawer.

“Hush, Roy, don’t think. Not now.”

“But.”

Maes was back, there was a hot mouth on his. Hard, demanding, nothing like a woman’s, and yet, better that way. Strong and curious hands were stroking from shoulder to hip, everywhere at once and exploring and all Roy could do was helplessly whine and writhe. He wanted to touch Maes, he wanted to touch back but somehow that felt forbidden. To get this much…

He would never get it again, he knew, and if he touched the memory would be on his fingertips, in his soul. Already he wouldn’t forget the nothing taste of Maes’ mouth, that warm and powerful tongue. The man was good. Especially for this…Maes had obviously been with women before, oh yes. He had heard many a drunken and debauched story…so Roy was certain and…

The kisses were not inexperienced but…

He couldn’t think anymore when a hot tongue wrapped around the head of his need. He cried out then, loudly, sharply, and looking down there was nothing but that chocolate hair, bangs brushing his lower stomach, head nestled among Roy’s dark curls as he slid down and down and…

Roy cried out shudderingly again, struggling not to come from the sheer eroticism of something he had only /dreamed/ wildly of.

He made tiny little grunts and moans with each exhalation, pleading sounds as his hands came up of their own accord to gently tangle in that hair.

Oh, so much softer than it looked, so thick and cool and sleek between his fingers. Roy’s hands were warm. When had they gotten warm?

He wasn’t supposed to touch…

Roy writhed as that mouth uncertainly explored him, tongue curious, unsure, and knowing in the same breath.

A man knew what another man liked.

He wasn’t supposed to touch…

But his hands were untangling from that hair, sliding lower, one hand rubbing powerful back muscles while another slid a thumb down the groove of Maes’ spine.

So sleek and hot, skin softer than any man’s had a right to be, and the man was growling and purring encouragingly under Roy’s touch.

“Damn you!” Roy gasped, feeling heat, sensation, live and tingling desperation spiral around his spine to make something roar in his ears.

The wet was gone then, the heat, and all Roy could do was lie there and heave, swallowing hard between breaths. He did not open his eyes, even when he heard the cap of the lube snap open.

Strong hands were grasping the backs of his knees, pressing his legs open further.

Roy tried to clamp them back together, but a smooth nibble to the inside of his knee and rough rub of stubble made him yield.

“Why are you…Why are you making me!” Roy sobbed, his breath coming too fast as his knees were firmly tucked up against sleek sides.

When he opened his eyes he was glancing into gentle gold.

“Because you have to feel.”

“You don’t want this…” Roy said softly, tilting his head away, dark eyes open now, staring at the duvet.

Hughes laughed then, a pinched and desperate sound.

Something was nudging at Roy’s entrance, something blunt and slick and…

“Does this feel like I don’t want this?” Hughes asked softly. “Granted I’ve never tried this like this before, but I am no virgin…and I know what I want. I also know you don’t. Why don’t we try and find out?”

Roy was shaking his head yes while inside he was screaming “nonono”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, can I do this? Is it too soon?”

Roy shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Do it or don’t Maes, but don’t fucking /sit/ there.” Roy gasped, a bit of passion he was not able to control leaking into his gaze.

“About damn time.” Hughes murmured to him, his expression a bit proud.

He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t rough either.

Roy made no sound as his hands fisted in the sheets. It was all he could do to not scream, he had not had anyone in so long, and he had not been prepared, and it was his own fault and he didn’t deserve to scream, to cry, to feel any pain at all because his pain was nothing compared to a little girl in Rizenbul that no longer had her mother or father…to the lives of those in…

Oh gods he couldn’t think anymore it hurt…

He dug abandoned the sheets and dug his hands into Maes’ shoulders, his legs trembling under the bigger man’s hands.

“Too rough huh?” Maes gasped, his forehead now resting on Roy’s.

“Normally, you slide a few fingers in first, to help your partner relax…”

Roy gasped as he dug his fingers in harder.

“Shit, I’ll stop.” Maes gasped, making as if, by some sheer force of will, to back out.

“No you fucking don’t!” Roy snarled, dark eyes meeting worried gold. “If you pull out now, I will go get my gloves…” Roy threatened.

“At least…that would be something…” Maes chided softly as he pulled almost out, making Roy growl in disapproval… and then rocked back in.

“I hate you!” Roy cried out as the pain and the fullness, the pure eroticism of the moment overwhelmed him.

Heat was building between them, crawling across Roy’s skin, warming him.

Maes just chuckled and alternatively gasped, moving again, and this time brushing something inside Roy that made the dark haired man cry out.

Roy shook his head.

He couldn’t fight it anymore.

As Maes picked a rhythm, so did Roy.

Before he could stop himself, it had begun. The pleasure, the warmth of hard muscle moving over him, of Maes moaning and whimpering…it made him whimper too. “I hate you!” He sobbed one last time before he gave in, he gave in and he met Maes thrust for thrust, teeth bared, moaning.

Maes’ voice alone was enough to turn him inside out, where those strong arms were grasping his legs where they shook, where he was moving his hips, savoring the fire and pain and pleasure.

“I…I…I…Maes…”

He was loosing his grip on himself, on his mind, on his control.... He was bleeding deep inside his chest in someplace that should not be able to bleed because it was /spirit/, and there was a hot pressure behind his eyes, a stinging in the back of his throat…pain and pleasure and wet…his face was wet, his eyes were wet. He was sobbing and sobbing and trembling and Maes was moaning, crooning, touching.

When Roy wrapped his legs around Hughes reflexively, the bigger man was then kissing him, swallowing his broken sobs, strong fingers imitating the trails of wetness down his cheeks as they moved together, They were moving and there was soon only pleasure, the strong muscles of Maes’ chest that he was pressed to, and something so precious that it was going on forever and would be over all too shortly. He was loosing himself and there was fire sliding down his spine, sliding across his skin and making him sweat. He was so hot that he felt like he himself would ignite, the first warmth to happen in ages.

“I c.. I can’t…”

“I’m close too.”

“Mh…unh…Maes….”

“I’ll catch you when you fall…I swear it…”

He couldn’t stop his back from arching then, those words tearing him open the rest of the way until he had no choice but to bleed, to come, to scream raggedly into a heavily muscled shoulder. His face was wet, his belly wet, Maes inside of him was wet, and those strong hands were holding him flawlessly, even as Roy watched that face frozen in ecstasy, the last few thrusts driving his hips into the bigger man’s hands, stroking him again as they convulsed together…

Maes was indeed catching him.

When his world was more than little flashes of light and snatches of sound, when the universe had slowed and he could even marginally think. When Hughes was wrapping both of their naked forms into the sheets, cradling Roy, all he could do was sob.

He was sobbing, dully recognizing the sounds of shoulder muffled howls of pain and grief and /feeling/. And they were his.

He was shattering, disintegrating, breaking, falling.

And Maes was holding him as he did so.

Breaking his fall, and holding him safe, close and warm.

Fire pranced across his skin, through his body and his mind and what started as mere sparks and guttering tongues quickly became an inferno.

“Burn…you have no choice…” Maes’ soft voice whispered in his ear.

And he did.

And then he slept.

~*~



Cross posted to jadedsilk fm_alchemist
Tags: author: jadedsilk, pairing: roy x maes, rating: nc-17
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