With No Names
Title: With No Names
Author: Lucifer Hisaki (mercy_slays/luciferhisaki)
Rating: R
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Alfons Heiderich/Roy Mustang
Summary: They had met at a bar...
Disclaimer: You do not have a legal suit for the whole FMA thing. So don't even try.
Notes: For FMA_fuh_q's April Month. Looks like third draft is the charm. >.o; Spoilers for the movie's end.
With No Names
They had met at a bar, an unlikely place for the blond to be. Brunet had been there many times before. It was a shady place, dark and mysterious, caught deeply into many a secret (perhaps even a crime or ten). No one really knew just that bar was one that people should never trust the patrons or workers inside. They all had that weird look in their eyes, a sly but wary gaze that meant everything to more humble, moral people. They were the stuff of dark rumours and myths, taking advantage of the innocent and naïve. This was not the place for the common good and kind man should lurk but the blond didn’t care for that.
Instead the blond had been hesitant but otherwise wanton of a drink from this place. He needed a strong drink where no one knew him and no one would bother him. At least he had hoped. Today had not been the best he had and what had been happening at home was something he didn’t feel like going through.
Never before had he felt so much like a green-eyed monster, so full of envy. The blond sighed as he walked into the bar, hailing the bartender to give him something strong. It was just a shot of brandy at first then it turned into a full bottle of hard vodka, clear as day but full of burn.
Soon however a brunet joined him at the end of the bar, waving the bartender for a shot of brandy. The blond glanced over at his new companion, ready to politely snipe at him for trespassing on his personal space but then he caught sight of the man’s uniform. It was not unlike that the officers of Munich wore and the brunet looked much worn. Worn enough that he didn’t bother to tip or thank the hand that gave him his drink, drowning it with the practice of many years behind his belt.
First one shot went, then another. The blond watched him out of the corner of his eye, nursing his vodka glass, head bowed. They didn’t say anything to each other for the first half an hour, just drinking their liquor quietly in the dark corner of the tavern which they decided to temporarily reside. No one bothered them and the bartender refilled their drinks only on request, muttering to himself about “no good lousy men with no fucking generosity for the real hardworking men.” The blond had to withhold a laugh at that not so veiled insult.
The brunet just shook his head before taking another shot of his whiskey, a brand new bottle sitting by his right elbow. One more glance at the other man, the blond found himself staring into a dark iris, blacker than night, looking back at him from behind a mussed curtain of bangs. “Uh… hello,” the blond was the first to break the silence.
His companion said nothing, just continued to back down shot after shot of whiskey before finally echoing the sentiment.
Blond and brunet talked softly to each other, exchanging stories and tales. The brunet was a police officer, a high-ranking one at that. Almost the equivalent to Colonel in the military, he drunkenly replied with pride, a smirk on his face. The blond was an engineer on the verge of a new breakthrough in rocketry. They didn’t exchange names, neither wanting to feel that close to the other man for obvious reasons. This wasn’t the place where you just go off and actually trust the man next to you freely. No, this place was anything but that.
Each had a similar tale of woe. An unrequited want for a friend, each recipient seemingly infatuated with a lovely woman. They didn’t state names because names were too powerful but the stories were more or less the same. The brunet’s desire was his best friend and subordinate, his voice had turned low and full of woe. The blond’s lust was also a friend but a friend he didn’t feel as close to as he did before, not since the appearance of a woman his friend had saved over at the carnival they had gone to weeks ago.
Drinks were exchanged and each choked on the alcohol they consumed. There were tales of laughter, of sadness and longing but though each one had different circumstances, all of it was the same. They smiled together and laughed together, knowing they wouldn’t see each other again after this day. The brunet was due off to go some place the next day for roughly a month. The blond knew that his work would take the most of his days and possibly his nights so he could meet an almost impossible deadline.
In the shadows of the bar, they spoke of their problems and laughed at them with each other. It was the blond that suggested they should find somewhere private. The brunet agreed and paid the tab on the bar.
Later that night, they found themselves in at one of the small inns on the outskirts of Munich, another place where hardly anyone knew them. .The blond called home to tell his friend that he wouldn’t be back for the rest of the night, deciding to spend time over at an inn with some coworkers. A half lie he told his desire but it wasn’t the first time. He found it sometimes better to stay away from his friend when he felt down, especially when he was drunk as well. It wouldn’t do to embarrass himself in front of his friend. Just like it wouldn’t do to show how sick he was because of his work.
When he was finished with his phone call, the brunet returned, a key ring dangling on his gloved finger. The blond nodded to him and quietly they made their way up the stairs into their room. Neither knew what they wanted from this but they were drunk enough to do anything and everything.
It was the blond who took the initiative, crushing their lips together, hands fisted into the brunet’s uniform coat. Soon clothes were scattered on the floor as the brunet started to move them toward the bed. There was a sense of hurry in their actions, of need for flesh on flesh; to be barbarically in lust with the body. Both agreed that tonight wasn’t a night for sleeping but for physical satiation. It would bring a sense of temporary sanity into their lives; hopefully quelling the need for their desires for a long while. Long enough for them to finally accept that what they want, they can never have.
The lotion was in reach and pale hand on paler hand grasped for it at the same time. Blue eyes met black, primal lust being exchanged and mutual understanding. They cried out softly into each other’s skin as fingers were inserted before thrusting in and out. When one descended on the other, there was a soft sob of pleasure and pain-filled regret that this act was to be made with a stranger. Even without the knowledge of names, the intimacy between them was far pronounced than either intended. They were indifferently joined to each other, trying to imagine that the other man was their object of desire. The fantasy was nothing when one moved into his companion deeply.
Pants were heavy and names whispered between breaths, almost incoherent to each other’s ears. Too lost in their lust, neither man cared if they spoke the holy names of lust to his companion. Eyes closed tightly, gasps sharpening in pitch and volume. Muscles clenched. Sweat dripped, hair clinging to their faces, shadowing the façade of each man. Cries were spoken and echoed, hands gripping tightly to the sheets of the bed. Then heads thrown back in a silent cry, they came, splashing into and onto the other man.
The cycle was repeated again and again, both men changing position as soon as they can, resting for mere moments of time between to catch their breath.
Come morning, the brunet left first. He didn’t leave a note.
Come noon, the blond paid the innkeeper and called home. He didn’t ask if the brunet left him anything.
Life went on and the blond died by gunshot. The brunet watched the blond be buried soon after, noticing a double of the man (only with greyer golden eyes) he had bedded next to a solemn blond. He didn’t question the sight, standing off near the edge as the Gypsy woman danced; instead, he watched his desire stand close to the woman of his dreams and sighed.
Tipping his hat, he waited until everyone left before walking up to the tombstone. He had saw the face in the coffin and that was all but he didn’t bother to let himself hear the name. On the stone slab was the inscription of a name. The brunet tested the name on his tongue, taking off his hat and saluted the man two meters below him. The night they spent together had its own marker in his mind. He never forgotten that time or the blond he had spent it with.
“Hello Herr Alfons Heiderich. My name is Officer Roy Mustang. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you.” He smiled at the headstone, bowing his head before taking off his hat, setting it next to the flowers in front of the name. Turning on heel, he left without a glance back.
The officer noticed that his chest felt a lot lighter than it had been for quite some time.
End
I live off your reviews. Really. So please feed me?
Author: Lucifer Hisaki (mercy_slays/luciferhisaki)
Rating: R
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Alfons Heiderich/Roy Mustang
Summary: They had met at a bar...
Disclaimer: You do not have a legal suit for the whole FMA thing. So don't even try.
Notes: For FMA_fuh_q's April Month. Looks like third draft is the charm. >.o; Spoilers for the movie's end.
With No Names
They had met at a bar, an unlikely place for the blond to be. Brunet had been there many times before. It was a shady place, dark and mysterious, caught deeply into many a secret (perhaps even a crime or ten). No one really knew just that bar was one that people should never trust the patrons or workers inside. They all had that weird look in their eyes, a sly but wary gaze that meant everything to more humble, moral people. They were the stuff of dark rumours and myths, taking advantage of the innocent and naïve. This was not the place for the common good and kind man should lurk but the blond didn’t care for that.
Instead the blond had been hesitant but otherwise wanton of a drink from this place. He needed a strong drink where no one knew him and no one would bother him. At least he had hoped. Today had not been the best he had and what had been happening at home was something he didn’t feel like going through.
Never before had he felt so much like a green-eyed monster, so full of envy. The blond sighed as he walked into the bar, hailing the bartender to give him something strong. It was just a shot of brandy at first then it turned into a full bottle of hard vodka, clear as day but full of burn.
Soon however a brunet joined him at the end of the bar, waving the bartender for a shot of brandy. The blond glanced over at his new companion, ready to politely snipe at him for trespassing on his personal space but then he caught sight of the man’s uniform. It was not unlike that the officers of Munich wore and the brunet looked much worn. Worn enough that he didn’t bother to tip or thank the hand that gave him his drink, drowning it with the practice of many years behind his belt.
First one shot went, then another. The blond watched him out of the corner of his eye, nursing his vodka glass, head bowed. They didn’t say anything to each other for the first half an hour, just drinking their liquor quietly in the dark corner of the tavern which they decided to temporarily reside. No one bothered them and the bartender refilled their drinks only on request, muttering to himself about “no good lousy men with no fucking generosity for the real hardworking men.” The blond had to withhold a laugh at that not so veiled insult.
The brunet just shook his head before taking another shot of his whiskey, a brand new bottle sitting by his right elbow. One more glance at the other man, the blond found himself staring into a dark iris, blacker than night, looking back at him from behind a mussed curtain of bangs. “Uh… hello,” the blond was the first to break the silence.
His companion said nothing, just continued to back down shot after shot of whiskey before finally echoing the sentiment.
Blond and brunet talked softly to each other, exchanging stories and tales. The brunet was a police officer, a high-ranking one at that. Almost the equivalent to Colonel in the military, he drunkenly replied with pride, a smirk on his face. The blond was an engineer on the verge of a new breakthrough in rocketry. They didn’t exchange names, neither wanting to feel that close to the other man for obvious reasons. This wasn’t the place where you just go off and actually trust the man next to you freely. No, this place was anything but that.
Each had a similar tale of woe. An unrequited want for a friend, each recipient seemingly infatuated with a lovely woman. They didn’t state names because names were too powerful but the stories were more or less the same. The brunet’s desire was his best friend and subordinate, his voice had turned low and full of woe. The blond’s lust was also a friend but a friend he didn’t feel as close to as he did before, not since the appearance of a woman his friend had saved over at the carnival they had gone to weeks ago.
Drinks were exchanged and each choked on the alcohol they consumed. There were tales of laughter, of sadness and longing but though each one had different circumstances, all of it was the same. They smiled together and laughed together, knowing they wouldn’t see each other again after this day. The brunet was due off to go some place the next day for roughly a month. The blond knew that his work would take the most of his days and possibly his nights so he could meet an almost impossible deadline.
In the shadows of the bar, they spoke of their problems and laughed at them with each other. It was the blond that suggested they should find somewhere private. The brunet agreed and paid the tab on the bar.
Later that night, they found themselves in at one of the small inns on the outskirts of Munich, another place where hardly anyone knew them. .The blond called home to tell his friend that he wouldn’t be back for the rest of the night, deciding to spend time over at an inn with some coworkers. A half lie he told his desire but it wasn’t the first time. He found it sometimes better to stay away from his friend when he felt down, especially when he was drunk as well. It wouldn’t do to embarrass himself in front of his friend. Just like it wouldn’t do to show how sick he was because of his work.
When he was finished with his phone call, the brunet returned, a key ring dangling on his gloved finger. The blond nodded to him and quietly they made their way up the stairs into their room. Neither knew what they wanted from this but they were drunk enough to do anything and everything.
It was the blond who took the initiative, crushing their lips together, hands fisted into the brunet’s uniform coat. Soon clothes were scattered on the floor as the brunet started to move them toward the bed. There was a sense of hurry in their actions, of need for flesh on flesh; to be barbarically in lust with the body. Both agreed that tonight wasn’t a night for sleeping but for physical satiation. It would bring a sense of temporary sanity into their lives; hopefully quelling the need for their desires for a long while. Long enough for them to finally accept that what they want, they can never have.
The lotion was in reach and pale hand on paler hand grasped for it at the same time. Blue eyes met black, primal lust being exchanged and mutual understanding. They cried out softly into each other’s skin as fingers were inserted before thrusting in and out. When one descended on the other, there was a soft sob of pleasure and pain-filled regret that this act was to be made with a stranger. Even without the knowledge of names, the intimacy between them was far pronounced than either intended. They were indifferently joined to each other, trying to imagine that the other man was their object of desire. The fantasy was nothing when one moved into his companion deeply.
Pants were heavy and names whispered between breaths, almost incoherent to each other’s ears. Too lost in their lust, neither man cared if they spoke the holy names of lust to his companion. Eyes closed tightly, gasps sharpening in pitch and volume. Muscles clenched. Sweat dripped, hair clinging to their faces, shadowing the façade of each man. Cries were spoken and echoed, hands gripping tightly to the sheets of the bed. Then heads thrown back in a silent cry, they came, splashing into and onto the other man.
The cycle was repeated again and again, both men changing position as soon as they can, resting for mere moments of time between to catch their breath.
Come morning, the brunet left first. He didn’t leave a note.
Come noon, the blond paid the innkeeper and called home. He didn’t ask if the brunet left him anything.
Life went on and the blond died by gunshot. The brunet watched the blond be buried soon after, noticing a double of the man (only with greyer golden eyes) he had bedded next to a solemn blond. He didn’t question the sight, standing off near the edge as the Gypsy woman danced; instead, he watched his desire stand close to the woman of his dreams and sighed.
Tipping his hat, he waited until everyone left before walking up to the tombstone. He had saw the face in the coffin and that was all but he didn’t bother to let himself hear the name. On the stone slab was the inscription of a name. The brunet tested the name on his tongue, taking off his hat and saluted the man two meters below him. The night they spent together had its own marker in his mind. He never forgotten that time or the blond he had spent it with.
“Hello Herr Alfons Heiderich. My name is Officer Roy Mustang. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you.” He smiled at the headstone, bowing his head before taking off his hat, setting it next to the flowers in front of the name. Turning on heel, he left without a glance back.
The officer noticed that his chest felt a lot lighter than it had been for quite some time.
End
I live off your reviews. Really. So please feed me?