Oblivious

Title: Oblivious
Pairing: Roy/Hand
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Pre-series military academy stuffs, solosmut
Word Count: 1,324
Disclaimer: Don't own FMA/not profiting


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In Roy’s dream, he could only make out parts—a mouth, a hand, the inky blackness of spiked hair. It was chaotic, erratic in its frames like a defective movie reel running too fast, then too slow. It bounced and blinked, the sound roaring like an echoing locomotive, but the feeling was what made it worth remembering. His chest felt tight, his lap rolled with warmth, he grasped and clutched and breathedbreathedbreathed. It was a near-exact review of the previous night—the night Hughes made his move.

Roy hadn’t had any time at all to process what had happened, but he went to sleep utterly satisfied; more satisfied than he had been in a long time. He knew it must have been planned, that his roommate had crafted the entire evening carefully and purposefully. The idea that he’d been set up vaguely annoyed Roy, but he was in no place to complain. It had been good, damn good. The guy obviously knew what he was doing and Roy wondered if that was because Hughes had done it before, or if it was just instinct.

When he drifted off to sleep, spent and lazy, none of that really mattered, however. He found that though he wondered, he didn’t really care. Hughes was pretty good looking, Roy was secure enough with himself to admit that, and though the guy was oftentimes a bit overwhelming, Roy got along better with him than he did most of his other classmates. Roy had, of course, thought about the possibility of finding other men attractive that way—everyone did at some point in their lives, but Roy never really went beyond his own contemplation. It just wasn’t for him, but more power everyone else.

Though, if the sex continued to be that damn good, maybe he could adjust his thinking. His subconscious certainly didn’t seem to be all that opposed to it.


When he awoke from that dream, his first act of consciousness was to smile. The sun had already risen and was filtering pleasantly through the plain curtains of their small dorm room window. It was Tuesday, he recalled. As upperclassmen, they had a bit more leeway in their schedules than the lower recruits, and being that they were both tops in their classes, they got first pick. Tuesday was Hughes and Roy’s late day. They were allowed to wake up after the sun, which was a rare thing with the rigorous and demanding schedules of the military academy.

Roy blinked drowsily and stretched his sleepy muscles, rolling over in his bed to face the room. As he turned and his mind lazily wakened, he became keenly aware of the rock hard protrusion between his legs, sliding softly against his thin, cotton sheets. The heat he remembered from his dream inched down his thighs and up his stomach, flooding into his belly and firing signals up his spine that hit his brain like a brick.

Hard. Touch. Cock.


He groaned quietly and squirmed, inching his hand down to draw his palm along its underside, but a soft snort from across the room halted his motion. Roy’s eyes flicked nervously over to the sprawled form of his roommate-turned-playmate and thanked whomever when he found Hughes still asleep. Roy hadn’t overcome his shyness for doing it in Hughes’ presence yet, which was silly considering he had various parts of the guy’s body in his mouth the night before. Roy lustfully recalled it all—lips, neck, fingers… cock, among others. Surprisingly, Hughes was more vocal about having his fingers adored than any other of his more sensitive parts. Good luck for Hughes, Roy enjoyed it too; a lot more than he was comfortable admitting.

Despite it all, Roy hadn’t quite gotten over his gay reservations. He hadn’t really any time to.

Though, reservations or not, there was a very clear and insisting need between his legs that had to be taken care of. He briefly considered making a run towards the bathroom to do it in private, but he wasn’t quite sure where Hughes had thrown his shorts the night before and being caught lurking around naked in the daylight was not exactly on his agenda. What if Hughes was awake when he finished? How would Roy explain that? He was too comfortable to get out of bed anyway; he’d just have to be discreet.

Yes, discreet. His cock was standing proudly, its head pillowed in the soft hairs of his lower belly. It ached and the only way to cure that would be, of course, to touch it.

So he did.

Still lying on his side, watching Hughes across the room for any sign of his waking, Roy drew his hand up his length and wrapped his fingers around it firmly. His blood pounded in his ears and he held his breath, waiting, watching. Convinced he was as alone as he could be, Roy rolled over onto his back and spread his legs under the sheets, absorbing himself in his task. He exhaled wetly then, his fist starting its slow slide, squeezing over his head and making his hips twitch. The bumps of his knuckles shone through the thin sheet and Roy watched it as if he were watching someone else, as if he were watching Hughes.

Hughes… Yes…

Roy’s eyes dropped closed as his free hand snaked leisurely down his body to join in the job. He could remember everything from the night before, how Hughes had devoured him, sucked him and teased his whole body. Hughes’ lips and tongue had been very nearly everywhere, tasting up Roy’s stomach and chest to swirl over a nipple. Hughes’ teeth had bitten softly at neck and ear while his hand pumped Roy at a maddening pace, the pace Roy mimicked on himself then, hips rolling and bucking, breath quickening.

Roy was as hard as he’d ever been and he knew it wouldn’t take long. He moaned loudly, too loudly, and his eyes shot open in a panic, expecting Hughes to have wakened. His friend was still asleep however, so Roy continued. Oh God, Hughes’ mouth had been perfect; nibbling at inner thighs, tongue swiping over and under testicles. Roy moaned again and clamped his mouth shut, the sound reverberating through his throat like a purr.

In his mind, Roy threaded his hands through dark hair instead of around his own cock. He bucked himself into Hughes’ mouth instead of his own fist. He breathed loudly as he neared the end, his lips mouthing silent, pleading words.

Please… please… Maes… Yes!

Roy’s body shivered and he had the sudden urge to clutch. He whipped one of his hands up, grasped the pillow under his head and bucked wildly into his hand. He gasped and whined, lips pulled taut in a teeth-baring grimace, his hips bucking erratically as his fist flew frantically.

Time stopped short as his orgasm rolled forth with all the gentleness of a runaway train. It started with a loud groan, ended in a name and Roy was certain he had died, ascended unto some higher plane of existence where roses bloomed and kittens thrived and everything sparkled with the shimmering delight of pixie dust. All was silent there save for the heartbeat pounding in his ears. He relaxed, melting into the cloud that was his mattress, hand and sheets sticky, body damp with sweat.

He smiled again and relished, ever still, waiting for his breath and heart to calm. The mess would be dealt with later; at that moment, he was perfectly content, lost and oblivious in his own little orgasmic world.

“If you’re going to imagine me,” purred a familiar voice from somewhere nearby, “you could at least invite me.”


The roses rotted and the kittens turned feral, then. Roy’s eyes shot open and he dared to glance across the room at the very awake, open eyes and grinning mouth of Maes Hughes.

That son of a—Oh, shit.