A Dark Zenith [Fullmetal Alchemist, Kimblee: combustion]
Title: A Dark Zenith
Author: seta_suzume
Words: 1,158
Theme: Table 2, #3 combustion
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: R
Warnings: Tentacle sex. *shifty eyes*
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me~ I will put back the toys when I'm done!
Author's comments: Pride/Kimblee. I have no way to explain this. ^^;;;
The darkness inside her subconscious was troubling these days, but the darkness outside was cool and protective. It was easy for Sol to feel like it was watching over her as she wandered into the shelter of the tunnel. Privately, she invited the bloodless caress of shadowy tendrils to touch her. Red eyes gathered and slim arms responded to her secret call. How was it they could tell? (Or perhaps they could not. What did darkness care for consent? What did Homunculi?)
Up her legs and under her clothes they wound, binding her arms behind her back with an unbreakable weave. They moved, paper thin, between surfaces, bra and skin, but carved a firm path as they went. Her white scarf fell to the ground as tight black ribbons took its place around her neck. The highest twinings poked their fingers inside her mouth and Sol kissed at them greedily. Shadows were better than men had ever been to her. Her body bent backward, taut as a strung bow as the homunculus called Pride tested her. Fingers entering between her legs caused Sol to spasm slightly with pleasure, sucking all the harder at the tendrils wrestling her tongue, pushing further, ever further, almost as if called by the Philosopher's Stone resting within her stomach. Perhaps both sets of the creature's limbs were competing to see which bunch would reach her middle first.
Even through half-lidded eyes clouded with rising passion, Sol could recognize the smirk in the eyes overhead. And not just from above- she was being examined visually from every angle. Taking this simple human from gasping in surprise to gasping with pleasure was a source of pride for it (what else?). What person could resist its overwhelming charms? She had not failed to notice how it kept the pressure on her throat just tight enough to be remembered and squeezed at her nipples and roiled all around her opening without pressing in. Even if he meant to break her to bits, Pride meant her to come first. Sol wondered if that was, indeed, the way this would end. She had outlived her usefulness to the Homunculi, so they would finish her. And she would be their little marionette, controlled by blackest strings until the very end.
"Aaaah," she groaned as the first forward shadow circled her very rim, darting just the smallest bit inside, tantalizing her with the possibility of what was to come.
With an audible slither, Pride showed his teeth in a perfect, pointy grin. Sol was wet with wanting. "Please," she whimpered around her mouthful of darkness. It tasted of some indescribable combination of cold and metal, tangy with a smattering of her own drawn blood.
Pride played at proceeding, reveling in pushing her further and further toward a complete loss of control. Tiny seizures wracked her body as she struggled in his grasp, equally pleased and pained by that teasing pressure. "Please," she panted again, desperate for what would undoubtedly be the most spectacular release she had ever experienced (if she died now it would all still be worth it).
One final test motion later, Pride suddenly and forcefully complied, jamming more and more writhing arms into her body, more than Sol initially thought her size would hold, but she stretched to allow entrance to each and every one, vision beginning to swim even before the tightening began around her neck. She strained backward, realizing her feet were no longer touching the ground. Instead, Pride's rippling body lifted her upward. Had anyone ever pushed so deeply into her? Somehow, she didn't think so, but she couldn't recall. There were spots before her eyes. Would unconsciousness come before bliss? She couldn't imagine Pride meaning it to go that way after all this buildup. A small, "aah!" was all she could say against her bonds. All those arms combined together into something thick and pulsing, stabbing surely into her. There was only a tiny portion of her ever-observing rational mind to wonder exactly how a shadow orgasmed (if it could at all) as her lightheadedness reached a peak.
Pride pulled back from her lips in time for her to loose a frantic scream, the most uninhibited sound she had ever uttered. There was more pain now than pleasure. No, there was pleasure. Maybe pain was pleasure. This was a mad world anyway. While the main bunch of arms continued their torrent of inward motion, other, smaller, ones resumed their frenzied stroking.
Sol could no longer hold back the tiny noises of shock and joy and hurt that demanded to escape her mouth. Pride responded favorably to her gradual loss of control, winding his way through her hair and plucking at the lobes of her ears.
So perhaps she wouldn't black out yet. She would just be pleasured to death, rubbed until she was dry. Several small peaks had come and gone, but the final performance was still yet to come. What did Pride want from her? Complete and utter surrender? Was he this slow, or was he delaying his own climax (whatever it might be like)?
Every muscle in her body seemed to be tensing in anticipation. Hair was falling into her eyes and her breaths came only in hot, ragged gasps. "Please," she tried to plead again, but she doubted the word left her lips with enough force to reach Pride's ears (or whatever served in their place).
"Oh, please!" a particularly sharp motion propelled her voice. Had the roots spreading within her gained even more mass? She felt like Pride was almost aiming to split her in half. "No more!"
Had that grin widened? The arms inside her certainly had.
"Ohhh," tears began to slide down her exertion-red cheeks. Finally the appropriately greater-than-human orgasm rocked her. She rode it out, eyes closed, and Pride pulled away naturally, a little at a time, lowering Sol back to the ground. She was too shaky to stand, so the dark arms cradled her comfortably as she smiled, still sniffling, up into the many eyes of her rough and tender lover.
"Have you ever cried for a man before?" Pride asked, stroking some of her hair back into place.
She stopped herself from starting to ask about Pride's classification of himself as a "man." Presumably, he thought of himself that way, but she had never seen any clearly sexed part of him. There was nothing to be gleaned from the shape of the shadow (not that Sol cared much about things like gender when it came to lovers).
"Once," she admitted. It was the first time she had told anyone, possibly because she felt a Homunculus would react differently than any ordinary human she knew. "But not because it was good," she hinted subtly, "Because I was young and he was hurting me."
"Does he live still?"
"No. I killed him."
"Good," Pride purred, "I'm glad to be the only man alive to make you cry."
Author: seta_suzume
Words: 1,158
Theme: Table 2, #3 combustion
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: R
Warnings: Tentacle sex. *shifty eyes*
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me~ I will put back the toys when I'm done!
Author's comments: Pride/Kimblee. I have no way to explain this. ^^;;;
The darkness inside her subconscious was troubling these days, but the darkness outside was cool and protective. It was easy for Sol to feel like it was watching over her as she wandered into the shelter of the tunnel. Privately, she invited the bloodless caress of shadowy tendrils to touch her. Red eyes gathered and slim arms responded to her secret call. How was it they could tell? (Or perhaps they could not. What did darkness care for consent? What did Homunculi?)
Up her legs and under her clothes they wound, binding her arms behind her back with an unbreakable weave. They moved, paper thin, between surfaces, bra and skin, but carved a firm path as they went. Her white scarf fell to the ground as tight black ribbons took its place around her neck. The highest twinings poked their fingers inside her mouth and Sol kissed at them greedily. Shadows were better than men had ever been to her. Her body bent backward, taut as a strung bow as the homunculus called Pride tested her. Fingers entering between her legs caused Sol to spasm slightly with pleasure, sucking all the harder at the tendrils wrestling her tongue, pushing further, ever further, almost as if called by the Philosopher's Stone resting within her stomach. Perhaps both sets of the creature's limbs were competing to see which bunch would reach her middle first.
Even through half-lidded eyes clouded with rising passion, Sol could recognize the smirk in the eyes overhead. And not just from above- she was being examined visually from every angle. Taking this simple human from gasping in surprise to gasping with pleasure was a source of pride for it (what else?). What person could resist its overwhelming charms? She had not failed to notice how it kept the pressure on her throat just tight enough to be remembered and squeezed at her nipples and roiled all around her opening without pressing in. Even if he meant to break her to bits, Pride meant her to come first. Sol wondered if that was, indeed, the way this would end. She had outlived her usefulness to the Homunculi, so they would finish her. And she would be their little marionette, controlled by blackest strings until the very end.
"Aaaah," she groaned as the first forward shadow circled her very rim, darting just the smallest bit inside, tantalizing her with the possibility of what was to come.
With an audible slither, Pride showed his teeth in a perfect, pointy grin. Sol was wet with wanting. "Please," she whimpered around her mouthful of darkness. It tasted of some indescribable combination of cold and metal, tangy with a smattering of her own drawn blood.
Pride played at proceeding, reveling in pushing her further and further toward a complete loss of control. Tiny seizures wracked her body as she struggled in his grasp, equally pleased and pained by that teasing pressure. "Please," she panted again, desperate for what would undoubtedly be the most spectacular release she had ever experienced (if she died now it would all still be worth it).
One final test motion later, Pride suddenly and forcefully complied, jamming more and more writhing arms into her body, more than Sol initially thought her size would hold, but she stretched to allow entrance to each and every one, vision beginning to swim even before the tightening began around her neck. She strained backward, realizing her feet were no longer touching the ground. Instead, Pride's rippling body lifted her upward. Had anyone ever pushed so deeply into her? Somehow, she didn't think so, but she couldn't recall. There were spots before her eyes. Would unconsciousness come before bliss? She couldn't imagine Pride meaning it to go that way after all this buildup. A small, "aah!" was all she could say against her bonds. All those arms combined together into something thick and pulsing, stabbing surely into her. There was only a tiny portion of her ever-observing rational mind to wonder exactly how a shadow orgasmed (if it could at all) as her lightheadedness reached a peak.
Pride pulled back from her lips in time for her to loose a frantic scream, the most uninhibited sound she had ever uttered. There was more pain now than pleasure. No, there was pleasure. Maybe pain was pleasure. This was a mad world anyway. While the main bunch of arms continued their torrent of inward motion, other, smaller, ones resumed their frenzied stroking.
Sol could no longer hold back the tiny noises of shock and joy and hurt that demanded to escape her mouth. Pride responded favorably to her gradual loss of control, winding his way through her hair and plucking at the lobes of her ears.
So perhaps she wouldn't black out yet. She would just be pleasured to death, rubbed until she was dry. Several small peaks had come and gone, but the final performance was still yet to come. What did Pride want from her? Complete and utter surrender? Was he this slow, or was he delaying his own climax (whatever it might be like)?
Every muscle in her body seemed to be tensing in anticipation. Hair was falling into her eyes and her breaths came only in hot, ragged gasps. "Please," she tried to plead again, but she doubted the word left her lips with enough force to reach Pride's ears (or whatever served in their place).
"Oh, please!" a particularly sharp motion propelled her voice. Had the roots spreading within her gained even more mass? She felt like Pride was almost aiming to split her in half. "No more!"
Had that grin widened? The arms inside her certainly had.
"Ohhh," tears began to slide down her exertion-red cheeks. Finally the appropriately greater-than-human orgasm rocked her. She rode it out, eyes closed, and Pride pulled away naturally, a little at a time, lowering Sol back to the ground. She was too shaky to stand, so the dark arms cradled her comfortably as she smiled, still sniffling, up into the many eyes of her rough and tender lover.
"Have you ever cried for a man before?" Pride asked, stroking some of her hair back into place.
She stopped herself from starting to ask about Pride's classification of himself as a "man." Presumably, he thought of himself that way, but she had never seen any clearly sexed part of him. There was nothing to be gleaned from the shape of the shadow (not that Sol cared much about things like gender when it came to lovers).
"Once," she admitted. It was the first time she had told anyone, possibly because she felt a Homunculus would react differently than any ordinary human she knew. "But not because it was good," she hinted subtly, "Because I was young and he was hurting me."
"Does he live still?"
"No. I killed him."
"Good," Pride purred, "I'm glad to be the only man alive to make you cry."