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whiskeycoffeeTitle: Nightmare’s Lullabye
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mjules
Requestor:roseeva
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Maes/Roy/Riza
Rating: Er…R? *headtilt*
Wordcount: 834
Warnings: Threesomes, slightly violent sex, angst.
Summary: Riza Hawkeye’s life is ruled by promises.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
A/N: The request was for: “Hughes/Roy, Roy/Riza, (Hughes/Riza, bonus!) a before-and-after of Hughes's death and how Roy copes.” I’m really not sure this is what you wanted, hon, but you ARE a member of my comm., so feel free to yell at me if you want to. ;) You’re allowed to abuse your moderator.
This was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slashfest community and was under posting restrictions until the 22nd.
The train ride to Central seemed longer every time, but this time, it seemed eternal. No beginning, no end in sight, just the constant rocking, like a cradle in a breeze, and the endless, mocking lullabye of wheels on the track.
“You should sleep, sir,” she told him yet again, glancing at the soothing chamomile tea he’d left undrunk, the alarmingly haphazard angle of the silverware on the table. The dining car held no solace for Roy; the sleeping car probably less. Sleep was a chance he would take – a chance they both took. In sleep, protective walls crumbled and memories came flooding in. For years, the worst nightmares had been of mortar fire and screams that filled the desert. They’d had to hold each other together, the three of them, arms and legs in such a tangle that it was impossible to separate (dreams, regrets, hopes, horrors, sins) them.
Now there were only two of them, and the nightmares were now of silence, of a mechanical voice, “The other party is no longer on the line. Please hang up and try your call again later,” and a buzzing that woke him up screaming, sweat-soaked, gasping for air.
He didn’t bother to argue with her, just stayed where he was. She wondered if it was because he knew she already knew the argument as well as he did, or if he simply hadn’t heard her.
“Do you remember,” he began, his voice raspy, his eyes far away, and she glanced around the dining car to see if they might be overheard. Their memories were not the sort that could be passed on. Their legends might live on for years but their secrets would die with them, and now they were one closer to being forgotten.
They were the only ones in the car; it was an off-day for travel and an inconvenient hour. But if these things were convenient it would only add to the horror, she thought. Seeing that they were alone, she turned her attention back to him.
“Remember what, Roy?” Her voice was soft and he didn’t seem to notice the change in her tone, in her manner of addressing him.
“The last time… the last… when…” His voice broke, trailed off, and she caught her breath as a spike of memory caught her off-guard.
Hughes, buried deep in Roy’s body, stretched over the smaller man’s shoulder to kiss her harshly, unrepentantly. One hand slid away from Roy’s hip to grasp hers, fingers bruising in possessive patterns. Every thrust of his body pushed Roy deeper into her and she met them both fiercely.
“Don’t let him die,” Maes rasped. “Whatever you do, Riza, don’t you dare let him die. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“You scared us,” she whispered now, remembering. Remembered how calm Maes had been in the office, telling Fullmetal and Alphonse that he couldn’t escort them to Risembool. Remembered how demanding, almost frantic, he’d been when he arrived at Roy’s apartment, slamming Mustang against the wall and biting at his neck.
“You idiot,” Hughes growled. “You fucking idiot.”
She remembered watching as Maes claimed Roy’s body, all the while muttering curses and threats, and remembered how she heard the words ‘I love you’ in every breath Maes took and every shuddering cry that Roy surrendered.
“He was so worried,” Roy murmured, still distant, still speaking from behind some glass wall of grief and denial. “So worried that I would die.”
“You almost did,” Riza reminded him. “We had good reason to worry.” She felt panic flare in her again at the fresh memory of Roy holding up his rain-soaked glove as if he could snap and send that serial killer to hell.
“What were you thinking?” Hughes’ voice was as harsh as his hands and Riza knew there would be marks left on Roy’s body for weeks. They were always a little rough with each other but this was more. This was worse. They’d almost lost all of this in one fell swoop. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking,” Roy gasped, pushing back into Hughes’s thrusts, inviting them, accepting the pain as if it were his penance, rapture shooting through his expression in erratic intervals. “That I didn’t want you to die. You were on the case.”
“He was killing alchemists, Roy.”
“And anyone else who got in his way,” Roy reminded him sharply. “You would have been in the way.”
“Riza,” Roy said now, sounding small, sounding lost. “I don’t know… I can’t…”
He trailed off and the silence in the car was nearly oppressive. Platitudes weren’t in her nature and though the words You can, and you will tapped at the back of her teeth, she held her tongue. She knew what he meant. The road ahead seemed impossible, impassable now. But he would walk it, and as long as she drew breath, she’d make sure of that.
She’d promised, after all.
Author:
mjulesRequestor:
roseevaFandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Maes/Roy/Riza
Rating: Er…R? *headtilt*
Wordcount: 834
Warnings: Threesomes, slightly violent sex, angst.
Summary: Riza Hawkeye’s life is ruled by promises.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
A/N: The request was for: “Hughes/Roy, Roy/Riza, (Hughes/Riza, bonus!) a before-and-after of Hughes's death and how Roy copes.” I’m really not sure this is what you wanted, hon, but you ARE a member of my comm., so feel free to yell at me if you want to. ;) You’re allowed to abuse your moderator.
This was written for
slashfest community and was under posting restrictions until the 22nd.The train ride to Central seemed longer every time, but this time, it seemed eternal. No beginning, no end in sight, just the constant rocking, like a cradle in a breeze, and the endless, mocking lullabye of wheels on the track.
“You should sleep, sir,” she told him yet again, glancing at the soothing chamomile tea he’d left undrunk, the alarmingly haphazard angle of the silverware on the table. The dining car held no solace for Roy; the sleeping car probably less. Sleep was a chance he would take – a chance they both took. In sleep, protective walls crumbled and memories came flooding in. For years, the worst nightmares had been of mortar fire and screams that filled the desert. They’d had to hold each other together, the three of them, arms and legs in such a tangle that it was impossible to separate (dreams, regrets, hopes, horrors, sins) them.
Now there were only two of them, and the nightmares were now of silence, of a mechanical voice, “The other party is no longer on the line. Please hang up and try your call again later,” and a buzzing that woke him up screaming, sweat-soaked, gasping for air.
He didn’t bother to argue with her, just stayed where he was. She wondered if it was because he knew she already knew the argument as well as he did, or if he simply hadn’t heard her.
“Do you remember,” he began, his voice raspy, his eyes far away, and she glanced around the dining car to see if they might be overheard. Their memories were not the sort that could be passed on. Their legends might live on for years but their secrets would die with them, and now they were one closer to being forgotten.
They were the only ones in the car; it was an off-day for travel and an inconvenient hour. But if these things were convenient it would only add to the horror, she thought. Seeing that they were alone, she turned her attention back to him.
“Remember what, Roy?” Her voice was soft and he didn’t seem to notice the change in her tone, in her manner of addressing him.
“The last time… the last… when…” His voice broke, trailed off, and she caught her breath as a spike of memory caught her off-guard.
Hughes, buried deep in Roy’s body, stretched over the smaller man’s shoulder to kiss her harshly, unrepentantly. One hand slid away from Roy’s hip to grasp hers, fingers bruising in possessive patterns. Every thrust of his body pushed Roy deeper into her and she met them both fiercely.
“Don’t let him die,” Maes rasped. “Whatever you do, Riza, don’t you dare let him die. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“You scared us,” she whispered now, remembering. Remembered how calm Maes had been in the office, telling Fullmetal and Alphonse that he couldn’t escort them to Risembool. Remembered how demanding, almost frantic, he’d been when he arrived at Roy’s apartment, slamming Mustang against the wall and biting at his neck.
“You idiot,” Hughes growled. “You fucking idiot.”
She remembered watching as Maes claimed Roy’s body, all the while muttering curses and threats, and remembered how she heard the words ‘I love you’ in every breath Maes took and every shuddering cry that Roy surrendered.
“He was so worried,” Roy murmured, still distant, still speaking from behind some glass wall of grief and denial. “So worried that I would die.”
“You almost did,” Riza reminded him. “We had good reason to worry.” She felt panic flare in her again at the fresh memory of Roy holding up his rain-soaked glove as if he could snap and send that serial killer to hell.
“What were you thinking?” Hughes’ voice was as harsh as his hands and Riza knew there would be marks left on Roy’s body for weeks. They were always a little rough with each other but this was more. This was worse. They’d almost lost all of this in one fell swoop. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking,” Roy gasped, pushing back into Hughes’s thrusts, inviting them, accepting the pain as if it were his penance, rapture shooting through his expression in erratic intervals. “That I didn’t want you to die. You were on the case.”
“He was killing alchemists, Roy.”
“And anyone else who got in his way,” Roy reminded him sharply. “You would have been in the way.”
“Riza,” Roy said now, sounding small, sounding lost. “I don’t know… I can’t…”
He trailed off and the silence in the car was nearly oppressive. Platitudes weren’t in her nature and though the words You can, and you will tapped at the back of her teeth, she held her tongue. She knew what he meant. The road ahead seemed impossible, impassable now. But he would walk it, and as long as she drew breath, she’d make sure of that.
She’d promised, after all.
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