Faye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
said_scarlett) wrote2016-02-24 07:09 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2016-02-24 07:09 pm
Entry tags:
- au,
- fic,
- fma,
- leynaverse
Scar/Lust Fic, NC-17, AU Verse
Title: Primal Urges
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: Scar/Lust
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,171
Summary: Scar wins a back alley boxing match, adrenaline fueled rough sex follows.
Lust always tried to sit on a fence or ledge to watch the fights. It was easier to press her thighs together, to curl her toes in building anticipation as she watched Scar duck and weave and land blow after blow.
It always got to her. It was primal and animalistic but she didn't care. The rawness of it, the masculine energy, flesh on flesh. It made her flushed from head to foot. Scar was good. Large as he was, his movements were fluid and seemed effortless. In the streets, bare-fisted and brawling for bags of cash, the men didn't wear shirts. She could watch the flex and pull and draw of each muscle. She knew full well just how hard, how strong they were.
He was typically so gentle with her. Almost restrained. Even in every day life, around the apartment, at the market. He was careful. One of those large men who was keenly aware of his size and strength and sought to minimize it.
But here it was maximized. He threw himself into the fights and utilized his mass and training and history of violence. He was a crowd favorite. He won again and again. He was called out for challenges and he met and bested every one. It called to something in her. There was a pride that her man was the champion.
And he was proving himself so once again. His opponent was swaying, his face bloodied. Scar's knuckles were bloodied, too, but little of it was his. He held his arms in tight, fists up, muscles tense. Lust bit her lower lip and leaned forward, heart pumping. The crowd was hushed in the moment.
Then Scar's fists were flying, and his opponent went down and the match was called. Scar stood in the center of the cheers, sweating and breathing heavily, but with hardly a mark on him. Even the blows that landed did little damage. A bruise here and there. The rough cuts on the knuckles that came from punching another battle-hardened man. The purse was his. Lust swore that this was more lucrative than any day laboring job he ever held.
She slipped down off the fence she'd perched on and adjusted her dress. He'd come to meet her. She knew better than to tempt a true fight by moving among the men. The fights worked Scar up in a different sort of way. The adrenaline continued to flow, keying him up after the last blow had been thrown. So she waited, breathless, until he joined her.
He'd only pulled on a strapped undershirt. His lip was bruised and his hair was mussed. There was a look in his eyes that only came after these fights. It made her stomach quiver. When he reached her he reached for her, his arm going around her waist.
"Congratulations." Her voice was already low and husky. Scar grunted in response, his hand low on her hip. The smell of him made her head swim and she wanted him to take her right then and there. She could feel his fingers straining downwards. Her skirt was above the knee.
The walk home seemed impossibly long. Her own hand moved along his back, slipping up under the cotton of his undershirt. The urge to press herself against him, her face to his chest, was difficult to fight. The noise of the alley where the men fought was fading behind them. The empty streets, devoid of traffic this time of night, made it all too easy to allow inhibition more leave then normal.
They rarely touched one another outside of their own home. Not beyond occasionally holding hands or linking arms. On the way home from the fight, their hands wouldn't stay still.
"I should ice this when we get home." Lust's fingers brushed the corner of his lip, near where the ruddy bruise blossomed.
"It doesn't hurt." Scar's words came out a throaty growl that shot to Lust's core. She shuddered, clenching her teeth together. Their eyes met. His narrowed slightly and he buried a hand in her hair. "Is something wrong?"
She whimpered with need when his voice rolled over her again, her fingers grabbing at his back. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and that only made it worse.
She had to tear herself away. They were almost home...
But the look in his eyes. It was possessive, wanting, fierce. Their life here was a quiet and pleasant one, but a predator still lurked beneath Scar's surface. Sometimes it came out.
Perhaps it was depraved, to be so aroused by it, but there it was. And she wasn't alone in how she was affected. He was as worked up and wanting as she was.
They always had particularly passionate relations when they made it home. That lack of restraint carried over - the only time that it did. Just thinking about it summoned the urge to wrap her legs around him here and now...
"Let's go." She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward their apartment building, her breath coming in hurried gasps. He came up behind her, his arms going around her again. They walked like drunkards, him holding her and her leaning back against him. He pulled the pin out of her hair, letting it spill loose over her shoulders. She felt him press his face into it and inhale.
How they managed to make it home with their clothing still on, Lust wasn't sure. Her legs were wobbling as they climbed the stairs to their second floor apartment. Scar's hands were on her waist, her hips, her belly. She could barely get the key in the door with him pressed against her from behind.
Once over the threshold, she dropped the keys on the floor. Scar slammed the door shut behind them and then Lust found herself pressed against it. Finally. She tipped her head back and flattened her palms against the wood and inhaled sharply as Scar tore at her button down dress. The buttons popped, scattering across the kitchen with a clatter. Scar's large, roughened hands ripping apart her dress was more than worth the inconvenience of having to mend a few buttons.
She'd find them and mend them later.
Her breasts heaved inside her brassiere, nipples already painfully tight. She could hear his breathing. His hands covered her breasts and she moaned. His mouth covered hers with a demanding ferocity, his tongue parting her lips. She could feel the small swell of that little bruise by the corner of his mouth. Her skin felt charged. She pressed her hips into his as he pawed her breasts, pulling at the cups of her brassiere. She could feel his hardness against her.
It was always overwhelming, when they came together physically. But on these nights, it was overpowering. Rational thought was wiped away in a flood of libido. Lust reached for Scar and he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head with a low growl.
Her underthings were suddenly uncomfortably sodden.
All of that power he'd displayed in the alley was here. Lust's eyes traced the hard swells of his shoulders and biceps. The cables of muscle stood out prominently. His skin gleamed in the low light spilling in from the street outside. Neither of them had bothered to flip the switch by the door.
Scar's body never failed to make her heart skip a beat, but on nights like these she was painfully aware of how exceptionally formed he truly was. He had the shoulders and chest of a bull, the arms of a bear. He was a monument to the potential of the masculine.
And he was clawing her brassier off and grinding his length against her thigh with a husky groan.
"Need you." The words were breathless. Her skirt rode up her hips as she lifted herself up against him, bracing one foot on the wall of the little doorless hallway that led to the kitchen. He gripped her buttocks hard enough to redden the skin and lowered his head to her breasts, his lips hard against her skin. He mouthed her breasts audibly, gripping her against him with her wrists still held over her head.
Lust made no attempt to stifle her pleasure. She moaned and gasped and urged him on vocally. The hard length inside his pants wedged firmly between her thighs. She squirmed, tugging her arms to gain release so she could undo his belt and fly. He looked up from her breast, nipple still between his lips and his eyes wild with want. She nodded toward their joined hips with a low exhale. He nodded with a grunt and dropped her hands, reaching for her other breast instead. He wasn't gentle, but she didn't want him to be.
Her hands fumbled at his belt, fingers trembling with haste. She needed to feel the heat of his bare skin. And his hand and mouth crushing her breasts was more than distracting. She wasn't a delicate woman. She could take roughness, enjoyed it with him. It was only so rare that he gave in to it.
Once his belt was loosened and his fly down, she slipped her hand into his trousers and grasped his arousal. It was hot against her palm. He made a guttural sound when she touched him, and she stroked him a few times before drawing his length out. His hand joined hers between their legs, shoving her underthings aside and thrusting his fingers into her hurriedly. She let out a loud cry, her other foot coming off the ground and wrapping around his lower back. His arm shifted under her, taking the rest of her weight.
There was no drawn out foreplay here. Scar fingered her hastily and then gripped her hip and entered her, taking her hard against the door with her skirt bunched around her hips. There was no thought spared for being careful. She wrapped her legs around him completely, clasping her ankles together. The insides of her thighs were already slick and Scar's rapid thrusts only added to the stains at the tops of her stockings. The door was hard against her back. She clung to his shoulders and her fingertips bit into his skin. She didn't move against him, she didn't have to. He moved for both of them, and groaned lowly with each breath. The door slammed against her back and she had to tip her head forward despite every instinct to throw it back.
She cried out loudly. In the dim kitchen she called out unintelligibly as Scar took her roughly in the little entryway. The door rattled in its hinges as she knocked against it. She was going to be bruised come morning.
For now, though, she was lost in wave after wave of powerful orgasm. She wasn't sure how many came over her, Scar continued to pound into her as she tensed and cried out, and once it began to fade it began all over again. Her nails dug furrows into his shoulders and her shoulders hit the wood behind her sharply but the pleasure radiated through every inch of her body and turned the mild pain into something exquisite.
She barely noticed when Scar approached his own orgasm, lost in a blurred haze of her own intense passion. Not until he was crushing her against the door and groaning loudly, head thrown back, the cords of his neck standing out visibly.
Lust's legs slowly dropped down as Scar pulled out of her. And then the rest of her joined them, sliding down the door with a wavering sigh until she was sprawled on the tile floor. She was weak and limp and breathless.
Scar leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. His trousers hung around his thighs. He looked as worn as she felt. It was always this way, when they'd finished. All the strength and energy was entirely gone. And they still had to clean up and change for bed.
She pushed herself up with a low groan. She didn't expect Scar to say much, he never did on these nights. He was always withdrawn afterwards, but it seemed moreso at times like these. It wasn't that surprising - she knew he feared hurting her, despite how emphatically she showed her enjoyment during their rough sessions.
"I'll run the bath." She adjusted her brassiere and pulled off her underwear and flipped on the light in the kitchen. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to Scar's cheek as she went by, her voice warm and fond now rather than low and heated. She loved all of him, including that part of him that could so easily break her in two should he choose it.
"And fix you something to eat." She ran her hand through his hair, comforting and reassuring. "The champion deserves all the proper homecomings."
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: Scar/Lust
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,171
Summary: Scar wins a back alley boxing match, adrenaline fueled rough sex follows.
Lust always tried to sit on a fence or ledge to watch the fights. It was easier to press her thighs together, to curl her toes in building anticipation as she watched Scar duck and weave and land blow after blow.
It always got to her. It was primal and animalistic but she didn't care. The rawness of it, the masculine energy, flesh on flesh. It made her flushed from head to foot. Scar was good. Large as he was, his movements were fluid and seemed effortless. In the streets, bare-fisted and brawling for bags of cash, the men didn't wear shirts. She could watch the flex and pull and draw of each muscle. She knew full well just how hard, how strong they were.
He was typically so gentle with her. Almost restrained. Even in every day life, around the apartment, at the market. He was careful. One of those large men who was keenly aware of his size and strength and sought to minimize it.
But here it was maximized. He threw himself into the fights and utilized his mass and training and history of violence. He was a crowd favorite. He won again and again. He was called out for challenges and he met and bested every one. It called to something in her. There was a pride that her man was the champion.
And he was proving himself so once again. His opponent was swaying, his face bloodied. Scar's knuckles were bloodied, too, but little of it was his. He held his arms in tight, fists up, muscles tense. Lust bit her lower lip and leaned forward, heart pumping. The crowd was hushed in the moment.
Then Scar's fists were flying, and his opponent went down and the match was called. Scar stood in the center of the cheers, sweating and breathing heavily, but with hardly a mark on him. Even the blows that landed did little damage. A bruise here and there. The rough cuts on the knuckles that came from punching another battle-hardened man. The purse was his. Lust swore that this was more lucrative than any day laboring job he ever held.
She slipped down off the fence she'd perched on and adjusted her dress. He'd come to meet her. She knew better than to tempt a true fight by moving among the men. The fights worked Scar up in a different sort of way. The adrenaline continued to flow, keying him up after the last blow had been thrown. So she waited, breathless, until he joined her.
He'd only pulled on a strapped undershirt. His lip was bruised and his hair was mussed. There was a look in his eyes that only came after these fights. It made her stomach quiver. When he reached her he reached for her, his arm going around her waist.
"Congratulations." Her voice was already low and husky. Scar grunted in response, his hand low on her hip. The smell of him made her head swim and she wanted him to take her right then and there. She could feel his fingers straining downwards. Her skirt was above the knee.
The walk home seemed impossibly long. Her own hand moved along his back, slipping up under the cotton of his undershirt. The urge to press herself against him, her face to his chest, was difficult to fight. The noise of the alley where the men fought was fading behind them. The empty streets, devoid of traffic this time of night, made it all too easy to allow inhibition more leave then normal.
They rarely touched one another outside of their own home. Not beyond occasionally holding hands or linking arms. On the way home from the fight, their hands wouldn't stay still.
"I should ice this when we get home." Lust's fingers brushed the corner of his lip, near where the ruddy bruise blossomed.
"It doesn't hurt." Scar's words came out a throaty growl that shot to Lust's core. She shuddered, clenching her teeth together. Their eyes met. His narrowed slightly and he buried a hand in her hair. "Is something wrong?"
She whimpered with need when his voice rolled over her again, her fingers grabbing at his back. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and that only made it worse.
She had to tear herself away. They were almost home...
But the look in his eyes. It was possessive, wanting, fierce. Their life here was a quiet and pleasant one, but a predator still lurked beneath Scar's surface. Sometimes it came out.
Perhaps it was depraved, to be so aroused by it, but there it was. And she wasn't alone in how she was affected. He was as worked up and wanting as she was.
They always had particularly passionate relations when they made it home. That lack of restraint carried over - the only time that it did. Just thinking about it summoned the urge to wrap her legs around him here and now...
"Let's go." She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward their apartment building, her breath coming in hurried gasps. He came up behind her, his arms going around her again. They walked like drunkards, him holding her and her leaning back against him. He pulled the pin out of her hair, letting it spill loose over her shoulders. She felt him press his face into it and inhale.
How they managed to make it home with their clothing still on, Lust wasn't sure. Her legs were wobbling as they climbed the stairs to their second floor apartment. Scar's hands were on her waist, her hips, her belly. She could barely get the key in the door with him pressed against her from behind.
Once over the threshold, she dropped the keys on the floor. Scar slammed the door shut behind them and then Lust found herself pressed against it. Finally. She tipped her head back and flattened her palms against the wood and inhaled sharply as Scar tore at her button down dress. The buttons popped, scattering across the kitchen with a clatter. Scar's large, roughened hands ripping apart her dress was more than worth the inconvenience of having to mend a few buttons.
She'd find them and mend them later.
Her breasts heaved inside her brassiere, nipples already painfully tight. She could hear his breathing. His hands covered her breasts and she moaned. His mouth covered hers with a demanding ferocity, his tongue parting her lips. She could feel the small swell of that little bruise by the corner of his mouth. Her skin felt charged. She pressed her hips into his as he pawed her breasts, pulling at the cups of her brassiere. She could feel his hardness against her.
It was always overwhelming, when they came together physically. But on these nights, it was overpowering. Rational thought was wiped away in a flood of libido. Lust reached for Scar and he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head with a low growl.
Her underthings were suddenly uncomfortably sodden.
All of that power he'd displayed in the alley was here. Lust's eyes traced the hard swells of his shoulders and biceps. The cables of muscle stood out prominently. His skin gleamed in the low light spilling in from the street outside. Neither of them had bothered to flip the switch by the door.
Scar's body never failed to make her heart skip a beat, but on nights like these she was painfully aware of how exceptionally formed he truly was. He had the shoulders and chest of a bull, the arms of a bear. He was a monument to the potential of the masculine.
And he was clawing her brassier off and grinding his length against her thigh with a husky groan.
"Need you." The words were breathless. Her skirt rode up her hips as she lifted herself up against him, bracing one foot on the wall of the little doorless hallway that led to the kitchen. He gripped her buttocks hard enough to redden the skin and lowered his head to her breasts, his lips hard against her skin. He mouthed her breasts audibly, gripping her against him with her wrists still held over her head.
Lust made no attempt to stifle her pleasure. She moaned and gasped and urged him on vocally. The hard length inside his pants wedged firmly between her thighs. She squirmed, tugging her arms to gain release so she could undo his belt and fly. He looked up from her breast, nipple still between his lips and his eyes wild with want. She nodded toward their joined hips with a low exhale. He nodded with a grunt and dropped her hands, reaching for her other breast instead. He wasn't gentle, but she didn't want him to be.
Her hands fumbled at his belt, fingers trembling with haste. She needed to feel the heat of his bare skin. And his hand and mouth crushing her breasts was more than distracting. She wasn't a delicate woman. She could take roughness, enjoyed it with him. It was only so rare that he gave in to it.
Once his belt was loosened and his fly down, she slipped her hand into his trousers and grasped his arousal. It was hot against her palm. He made a guttural sound when she touched him, and she stroked him a few times before drawing his length out. His hand joined hers between their legs, shoving her underthings aside and thrusting his fingers into her hurriedly. She let out a loud cry, her other foot coming off the ground and wrapping around his lower back. His arm shifted under her, taking the rest of her weight.
There was no drawn out foreplay here. Scar fingered her hastily and then gripped her hip and entered her, taking her hard against the door with her skirt bunched around her hips. There was no thought spared for being careful. She wrapped her legs around him completely, clasping her ankles together. The insides of her thighs were already slick and Scar's rapid thrusts only added to the stains at the tops of her stockings. The door was hard against her back. She clung to his shoulders and her fingertips bit into his skin. She didn't move against him, she didn't have to. He moved for both of them, and groaned lowly with each breath. The door slammed against her back and she had to tip her head forward despite every instinct to throw it back.
She cried out loudly. In the dim kitchen she called out unintelligibly as Scar took her roughly in the little entryway. The door rattled in its hinges as she knocked against it. She was going to be bruised come morning.
For now, though, she was lost in wave after wave of powerful orgasm. She wasn't sure how many came over her, Scar continued to pound into her as she tensed and cried out, and once it began to fade it began all over again. Her nails dug furrows into his shoulders and her shoulders hit the wood behind her sharply but the pleasure radiated through every inch of her body and turned the mild pain into something exquisite.
She barely noticed when Scar approached his own orgasm, lost in a blurred haze of her own intense passion. Not until he was crushing her against the door and groaning loudly, head thrown back, the cords of his neck standing out visibly.
Lust's legs slowly dropped down as Scar pulled out of her. And then the rest of her joined them, sliding down the door with a wavering sigh until she was sprawled on the tile floor. She was weak and limp and breathless.
Scar leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. His trousers hung around his thighs. He looked as worn as she felt. It was always this way, when they'd finished. All the strength and energy was entirely gone. And they still had to clean up and change for bed.
She pushed herself up with a low groan. She didn't expect Scar to say much, he never did on these nights. He was always withdrawn afterwards, but it seemed moreso at times like these. It wasn't that surprising - she knew he feared hurting her, despite how emphatically she showed her enjoyment during their rough sessions.
"I'll run the bath." She adjusted her brassiere and pulled off her underwear and flipped on the light in the kitchen. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to Scar's cheek as she went by, her voice warm and fond now rather than low and heated. She loved all of him, including that part of him that could so easily break her in two should he choose it.
"And fix you something to eat." She ran her hand through his hair, comforting and reassuring. "The champion deserves all the proper homecomings."