Just because I can post it here
Jun. 23rd, 2005 06:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
okami_huTitle: Masks
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
okami_hu
Disclaimer: Not mine, Arakawa hiromu's, yadda, yadda. Sheesh
Not beta-ed. You have been warned.
I just sat down to write a quick drabble before the 30_lemons mod kicks me out excalaiming that I haven't contributed anything, and it turned into this. I looove it. XDDD
It’s the annual Halloween ball on the Headquarters. It’s always a masquerade, the time when faces are hidden beneath masks or thick layers of paint. Strange creatures, monsters, and angels are dancing and drinking; they laugh and gossip and nobody notices, when they slip off in pairs.
Nothing is quite forbidden tonight, except bloodshed; the higher-ups forgive fraternization, especially since usually, they’re involved in that too. Just once in the year, on this pagan holiday celebrating the death of the old year and the deceased comrades, nobody gives a damn.
Cain Fury stands next to a table, his frilly blue-black dress shimmers, and glitters. Under the feather mask, the long, curly black wig, and the slight make-up, nobody recognizes him; at least, nobody did until this. The small-framed soldier enjoys the taste of the champagne and his freedom. A dance with Colonel Mustang, another glass from Lieutenant Colonel Archer and a politely refused affair from the slightly tipsy Denny Brosh made his night nearly perfect. Fury feels accomplished and loved. The men approaching him were easy to identify – Mustang’s voice is unique, just as the way he moves, and how he adjusts his snow-white gloves. Archer’s pale blue eyes and his hungry gaze are telltale signs. And Denny didn’t even bother to cover himself up, the few colorful lines on his face conceal nothing of his honest features.
But when a shadow falls on him and he turns, Cain’s breath catches in his throat. The man looking at him is tall, strong, and beautifully dressed; he looks like a renaissance avenger with the wide hat adorned with a black feather. His cape shimmers silkily and his midnight blue shirt is decorated with lace. A rapier hangs on his narrow hips. He offers a glowed hand without a word, inviting the small-framed soldier to dance.
Fury goes like mesmerized. The stranger’s hold on his hand and waist is confident, secure; he takes the lead and they’re swirling around on the dance floor, eyes locked.
The stranger is unidentifiable. His eyes remain in shadow, his hair is a common brown, there’s no identifying mark, gesture or scent around him. Fury is puzzled and thrilled; the stranger’s smile and gentleness appeals to him greatly. As the minutes pass, Cain feels that is better like this; he doesn’t even want to know, who his dancer is because it’ll hurt tomorrow, when they recognize each other in daylight, unmasked.
The waltz ends and the stranger leads Fury back to the table, for another glass of champagne. The small-framed soldier smiles at him and takes a glass with a carefully feminine-sounding “Thank you”.
The stranger nods with a smile and leans closer. “Would you like to come with me?” he asks on a whisper; his voice is unrecognizable. And Cain founds himself nodding despite his best will, because he knows it’s just a case of mistaken identities and once the stranger discovers the truth, he’ll leave disgusted and angry but he can’t fight that smile, that lovely vibration in the low whisper. He wants a kiss, just one, a slight caress ghosting over his naked skin. So Fury holds onto the stranger’s arm and follows him on the corridors, to Mustang’s office. He must be a friend of the Colonel, because he has a key. Cain steps in and he hears the lock clicking shut. The stranger doesn’t turn on the light; the October moon casts enough light into the room to see the outlines of each other.
The small-framed soldier is backed to the Colonel’s desk and in the next moment, there are hot lips sealing his with wild passion; and Fury kisses back eagerly, grinding his slim body against the taller one.
A minute later, Cain’s feather mask slips down, followed by the stranger’s hat and those lips trace the small-framed soldier’s eyelids, cheeks, his neck, his naked shoulders, while the strong hands caress his waist. It feels wonderful but as the fingers begin to inch toward his chest, Fury gasps and pulls away.
“W-wait… it’s not as you think. I’m not a…” he’s silenced by a tender fingertip placed on his lips.
“I know,” the stranger whispers. “That’s why we’re here.” He begins to pull the skirt up, caressing the small-framed soldier’s thighs, which are covered by silk stockings.
Fury moans and throws his arms around the stranger’s neck, letting go of his doubts. He wants this so desperately, it’s almost frightening. When one of those hands palms his crotch, Cain throws his head back with a trembling sigh, thrusting his hips forward.
“So eager,” the amused reply comes “so beautifully wanton. You’re breathtaking.”
“Thank you,” Fury whispers with a smile and kisses his soon-to-be lover.
The small-framed soldier’s growing erection is freed from the silk panties and the stranger strokes the pulsing shaft with skilled touches. He runs his finger over the weeping slit to make the little crossdresser moan more, then grabs his hips and lifts him to sit on the desk. The tall man then kneels down and takes the throbbing piece of flesh into his mouth without a warning.
Cain clutches his skirt and cries out softly as the stranger’s tongue caresses the underside of his manhood, tracing the veins, lapping up the drops of pre-come. Soon, he feels the approaching waves of the orgasm, so he stops the other’s activities with a gentle tug on the brown mane.
“Please… not like this. I want you…” he blushes “inside. Please.”
The stranger nod and pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is there anything here?”
Fury understands. “If I remember correctly, Lieutenant Hawkeye keeps some hand cream in her drawer,” he says knowing very well that if the strict woman ever finds out, she’ll stuff him with lead.
The stranger steps to the desk and opens the drawers one by one. When he finds the cream and walks back, Fury is already leaning on the Colonel’s desk, holding his skirt, delicious backside offered shamelessly. The stranger purrs at the sight.
Fingers dip into the cool substance and press against the small opening, then they slip in, stretching, caressing. Cain struggles to keep quiet but loud moans still escape from his throat. The sensations chase him into a waking dream. There’s pain, but pleasure too and the mixture of them is like sweet poison. The stranger brushes against his prostate and Cain cries out, nearly coming from the shock. “Please!” he pants, almost crying. “Now. Please, do it, please.”
“No need for begging,” the stranger whispers lovingly and presses the tip of his own rock hard erection to Cain’s entrance. The small-framed soldier squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself against the pain. However, there’s almost none an the tall man moves with agonizing slowness, giving his lover time to adjust. Fury relaxes and smiles. “Yes… oh, it’s so nice.”
A kiss on the nape of his neck answers him and the stranger sheaths his shaft fully into Fury’s tight channel. It’s a moment of bliss, to fill him up completely and being filled by him. After a few seconds, the taller man moves, pulling out then pushing back, slowly at first.
Panting and moaning fills the room as the minutes pass and the movements quicken. Fury’s in delirium; his world narrows down to his groins, his twitching shaft, and the other man’s balls knocking against his. The stranger runs over his sweet spot once more and Cain screams helplessly, spilling his semen on the Colonel’s desk. A few moments after, he can faintly hear a strained, loud moan over the rapid beating of his own heart and something burning hot fills his inside.
A minute passes in silence; neither of them speaks, they just enjoy the moment. Then the stranger pulls his softened member out, and draws a tissue to clean up both of them. He gently pulls the silk panties back and lets the skirt fall down to its place, covering Cain. The tall man’s arm encircles Fury’s waist and he kisses the last remains of the lip gloss off.
“Go now, lovely princess,” the stranger whispers. “I’ll take care of the mess. Ask Warrant Officer Farman to escort you home.”
Cain nods slowly, stealing another kiss. The stranger’s mouth holds a faint aftertaste but Fury’s too dizzy at the moment to figure out, what can it be. He walks to the door, opens it, and slips out to the dimly lit corridor to leave forever. His hearth aches as his steps echo hollowly on the empty hallway.
He nearly reaches the mass room, to find Farman when he passes next to a soldier, who’s leaning out of a window, smoking.
The realization makes Cain stop in his tracks.
That lingering taste is still in his mouth; the true identity of the stranger is revealed.
“Anything wrong, babe?” the smoking soldier asks with a small smile. Fury shakes his head and waves his hand nonchalantly.
“Not anymore.”
The end
Author/Artist:
okami_huDisclaimer: Not mine, Arakawa hiromu's, yadda, yadda. Sheesh
Not beta-ed. You have been warned.
I just sat down to write a quick drabble before the 30_lemons mod kicks me out excalaiming that I haven't contributed anything, and it turned into this. I looove it. XDDD
It’s the annual Halloween ball on the Headquarters. It’s always a masquerade, the time when faces are hidden beneath masks or thick layers of paint. Strange creatures, monsters, and angels are dancing and drinking; they laugh and gossip and nobody notices, when they slip off in pairs.
Nothing is quite forbidden tonight, except bloodshed; the higher-ups forgive fraternization, especially since usually, they’re involved in that too. Just once in the year, on this pagan holiday celebrating the death of the old year and the deceased comrades, nobody gives a damn.
Cain Fury stands next to a table, his frilly blue-black dress shimmers, and glitters. Under the feather mask, the long, curly black wig, and the slight make-up, nobody recognizes him; at least, nobody did until this. The small-framed soldier enjoys the taste of the champagne and his freedom. A dance with Colonel Mustang, another glass from Lieutenant Colonel Archer and a politely refused affair from the slightly tipsy Denny Brosh made his night nearly perfect. Fury feels accomplished and loved. The men approaching him were easy to identify – Mustang’s voice is unique, just as the way he moves, and how he adjusts his snow-white gloves. Archer’s pale blue eyes and his hungry gaze are telltale signs. And Denny didn’t even bother to cover himself up, the few colorful lines on his face conceal nothing of his honest features.
But when a shadow falls on him and he turns, Cain’s breath catches in his throat. The man looking at him is tall, strong, and beautifully dressed; he looks like a renaissance avenger with the wide hat adorned with a black feather. His cape shimmers silkily and his midnight blue shirt is decorated with lace. A rapier hangs on his narrow hips. He offers a glowed hand without a word, inviting the small-framed soldier to dance.
Fury goes like mesmerized. The stranger’s hold on his hand and waist is confident, secure; he takes the lead and they’re swirling around on the dance floor, eyes locked.
The stranger is unidentifiable. His eyes remain in shadow, his hair is a common brown, there’s no identifying mark, gesture or scent around him. Fury is puzzled and thrilled; the stranger’s smile and gentleness appeals to him greatly. As the minutes pass, Cain feels that is better like this; he doesn’t even want to know, who his dancer is because it’ll hurt tomorrow, when they recognize each other in daylight, unmasked.
The waltz ends and the stranger leads Fury back to the table, for another glass of champagne. The small-framed soldier smiles at him and takes a glass with a carefully feminine-sounding “Thank you”.
The stranger nods with a smile and leans closer. “Would you like to come with me?” he asks on a whisper; his voice is unrecognizable. And Cain founds himself nodding despite his best will, because he knows it’s just a case of mistaken identities and once the stranger discovers the truth, he’ll leave disgusted and angry but he can’t fight that smile, that lovely vibration in the low whisper. He wants a kiss, just one, a slight caress ghosting over his naked skin. So Fury holds onto the stranger’s arm and follows him on the corridors, to Mustang’s office. He must be a friend of the Colonel, because he has a key. Cain steps in and he hears the lock clicking shut. The stranger doesn’t turn on the light; the October moon casts enough light into the room to see the outlines of each other.
The small-framed soldier is backed to the Colonel’s desk and in the next moment, there are hot lips sealing his with wild passion; and Fury kisses back eagerly, grinding his slim body against the taller one.
A minute later, Cain’s feather mask slips down, followed by the stranger’s hat and those lips trace the small-framed soldier’s eyelids, cheeks, his neck, his naked shoulders, while the strong hands caress his waist. It feels wonderful but as the fingers begin to inch toward his chest, Fury gasps and pulls away.
“W-wait… it’s not as you think. I’m not a…” he’s silenced by a tender fingertip placed on his lips.
“I know,” the stranger whispers. “That’s why we’re here.” He begins to pull the skirt up, caressing the small-framed soldier’s thighs, which are covered by silk stockings.
Fury moans and throws his arms around the stranger’s neck, letting go of his doubts. He wants this so desperately, it’s almost frightening. When one of those hands palms his crotch, Cain throws his head back with a trembling sigh, thrusting his hips forward.
“So eager,” the amused reply comes “so beautifully wanton. You’re breathtaking.”
“Thank you,” Fury whispers with a smile and kisses his soon-to-be lover.
The small-framed soldier’s growing erection is freed from the silk panties and the stranger strokes the pulsing shaft with skilled touches. He runs his finger over the weeping slit to make the little crossdresser moan more, then grabs his hips and lifts him to sit on the desk. The tall man then kneels down and takes the throbbing piece of flesh into his mouth without a warning.
Cain clutches his skirt and cries out softly as the stranger’s tongue caresses the underside of his manhood, tracing the veins, lapping up the drops of pre-come. Soon, he feels the approaching waves of the orgasm, so he stops the other’s activities with a gentle tug on the brown mane.
“Please… not like this. I want you…” he blushes “inside. Please.”
The stranger nod and pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is there anything here?”
Fury understands. “If I remember correctly, Lieutenant Hawkeye keeps some hand cream in her drawer,” he says knowing very well that if the strict woman ever finds out, she’ll stuff him with lead.
The stranger steps to the desk and opens the drawers one by one. When he finds the cream and walks back, Fury is already leaning on the Colonel’s desk, holding his skirt, delicious backside offered shamelessly. The stranger purrs at the sight.
Fingers dip into the cool substance and press against the small opening, then they slip in, stretching, caressing. Cain struggles to keep quiet but loud moans still escape from his throat. The sensations chase him into a waking dream. There’s pain, but pleasure too and the mixture of them is like sweet poison. The stranger brushes against his prostate and Cain cries out, nearly coming from the shock. “Please!” he pants, almost crying. “Now. Please, do it, please.”
“No need for begging,” the stranger whispers lovingly and presses the tip of his own rock hard erection to Cain’s entrance. The small-framed soldier squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself against the pain. However, there’s almost none an the tall man moves with agonizing slowness, giving his lover time to adjust. Fury relaxes and smiles. “Yes… oh, it’s so nice.”
A kiss on the nape of his neck answers him and the stranger sheaths his shaft fully into Fury’s tight channel. It’s a moment of bliss, to fill him up completely and being filled by him. After a few seconds, the taller man moves, pulling out then pushing back, slowly at first.
Panting and moaning fills the room as the minutes pass and the movements quicken. Fury’s in delirium; his world narrows down to his groins, his twitching shaft, and the other man’s balls knocking against his. The stranger runs over his sweet spot once more and Cain screams helplessly, spilling his semen on the Colonel’s desk. A few moments after, he can faintly hear a strained, loud moan over the rapid beating of his own heart and something burning hot fills his inside.
A minute passes in silence; neither of them speaks, they just enjoy the moment. Then the stranger pulls his softened member out, and draws a tissue to clean up both of them. He gently pulls the silk panties back and lets the skirt fall down to its place, covering Cain. The tall man’s arm encircles Fury’s waist and he kisses the last remains of the lip gloss off.
“Go now, lovely princess,” the stranger whispers. “I’ll take care of the mess. Ask Warrant Officer Farman to escort you home.”
Cain nods slowly, stealing another kiss. The stranger’s mouth holds a faint aftertaste but Fury’s too dizzy at the moment to figure out, what can it be. He walks to the door, opens it, and slips out to the dimly lit corridor to leave forever. His hearth aches as his steps echo hollowly on the empty hallway.
He nearly reaches the mass room, to find Farman when he passes next to a soldier, who’s leaning out of a window, smoking.
The realization makes Cain stop in his tracks.
That lingering taste is still in his mouth; the true identity of the stranger is revealed.
“Anything wrong, babe?” the smoking soldier asks with a small smile. Fury shakes his head and waves his hand nonchalantly.
“Not anymore.”
The end
no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 01:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 08:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 01:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 10:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 01:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 02:20 pm (UTC)How cute. I am not really a Furyx_____ fan. But this was so cute T____T;;
Well written =D
no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 03:02 pm (UTC)I think you used too many commas sometimes, though. But otherwise this fic is awesome. ^_^ I like the image you created in the beginning about the party especially, and the last line. ...And of course everything in between. XD
no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-25 03:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 01:18 am (UTC)other wise i would say.. falman.... 0_0..
Great fic :3
no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 02:06 am (UTC)And thanks.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 02:18 am (UTC)