Faye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
said_scarlett) wrote2016-03-16 07:33 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2016-03-16 07:33 pm
Entry tags:
- fic,
- fma,
- leynaverse,
- scarlust
Scar/Lust Fic, NC-17, AU Verse
Title: A Crime of Passion
Fandom: FMA AU
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Scar/Lust
Wordcount: 2,012
Summary: An public incident leads to violence and far more pleasant private surprises.
The cinema let out later than Lust had anticipated. There was little to do, for leisure, besides the cinema or dance halls. She wasn't much in the mood to dance lately. Work was growing scarcer and scarcer. Scar was comfortable in a construction position, he'd worked for the same man for three years now, but still Lust worried. More and more of the women in the neighborhood were having to find jobs. Even she took in stitching and wash sometimes, for an extra cushion. So they could go out for a nice meal or a double feature now and then.
It had been a good showing, though. Tarzan the Ape Man and The Mummy. The newsreels between had been the same depressing fodder, but the films had been thoroughly entertaining. Johnny Weissmuller hadn't been hard on the eyes, in that animal skin toga, and she always enjoyed the frightening ones. Scar always grumbled a bit about going out, but it had been well worth it.
She was waiting for Scar to finish up in the washroom, waiting outside and having half a smoke in the cold evening drizzle. She didn't have much of a habit, it was simply something to do to pass the time. And it made her look busy.
That didn't matter tonight, though. It was only a few moments before some slick haired, booze smelling American man sidled up to her. Good god, the one time she stepped out in front of the cinema on her own...
"I'm waiting for someone."
"And lookee here, he just showed up." The offered grin was far more unsettling than it was charming. Couldn't he see her wedding ring? Likely he didn't care. Lust sighed heavily and moved to cross to the other side of the cinema.
The man grabbed her wrist.
"You're lucky I cam along, a girl like you can get into real trouble out here. You need a proper man looking after you."
Lust was stunned. She was used to thinly veiled racist remarks, America was full of them, but that this man was laying hands on her... she was too stricken to even protest, it simply seemed such an absurd thing. Men never touched her. She knew the dangers, of course, but it wasn't yet midnight and she was on a main street in front of a lit cinema. This wasn't a back alley in Berlin!
A small shiver of fear went through her. The street was eerily empty at the moment.
"Let go of me." His hand was still on her wrist. He had dirty feeling hands. Unpleasantly coarse. She was sure he had dirty fingernails. The thought made her shudder in revulsion.
Whatever response he gave, Lust didn't hear it. She didn't know quite when Scar had exited the cinema, but suddenly he was there, a great towering shadow that moved with deceptive swiftness. He said nothing, only seemed to be dulling growling as he stepped between them and pushed her back behind him. The crack of knuckles on flesh was resounding. Lust heard the aggressor's nose break with a sickening sound. His hand released her wrist immediately.
It all happened with rapid quickness. One moment she was trying to free her wrist and then Scar was breaking the man's face and standing over him, shoulders heaving. The marquis lights illuminated him clearly, steam rising from his bare skin where the light rain hit him. The muscles in his neck stood out. She couldn't see them through his jacket, but she knew the same was true of his shoulders. It was in the way he held them. His fists were clenched. There was blood on his knuckles.
Something in Lust went weak.
Scar had always been an angry man. But she was used to him controlling it, keeping it under a tight rein. Seeing him lose himself like that, in defense of her... there was a distinct liquid heat building between her thighs already.
"I'm...sorry..."
Scar was turning, his breathing ragged. His hands were still balled into tight fists. Lust wet her parted lips and shook her head. The dampness of the night made the white shirt beneath his jacket mold to him. His apology died on his lips when he saw her, her eyes darkened with a hungry want, her mouth open.
"We're going home. Now."
It was the wisest course of action anyway, Scar had just assaulted a man. It hardly mattered why, not for them. But her rush was born of something else entirely.
Scar swallowed thickly and nodded, casting another glance to the prone man on the street. His nose was a mess, his face covered in blood. There was something darkly exciting about it. She took Scar's hand and pulled him off towards home. The scene replayed again and again in her mind. Scar, appearing from nowhere as a mountain of protective vengeance. The fluid arc of his fist. The curl of his lip. The rage in his eyes. Lust shuddered. She barely felt the light rain.
Scar attempted to apologize again on the walk - a fast walk - but Lust shushed him. He had nothing to apologize for. He'd defended her. His violence had been on her behalf and the action had gone straight to her libido. Rather than frightening her, it only reminded her that she was safe with him. She'd needed him and he'd been there. It was such a strange thing to cause such a physical, visceral reaction, and yet...
"That level of force was uncalled for."
"Scar, if you say one more word, I'm going to gag you. And that will make everything else exceptionally difficult." She kicked the door closed behind them as they hurried into their apartment. Scar flipped on the light and she grabbed him, pulling him down into a fierce kiss. She could quiet him other ways. Her fingers clenched together at the back of his neck and her tongue plundered his mouth without hesitation. He made a startled noise against her, and she was dimly aware he was trying to kick off his shoes.
She pushed him backwards as they kissed, unusually aggressive in her advances. His mouth against hers was distracted. She kicked aside one of his discarded shoes and wrestled his jacket off of him. It fell to the floor, forgotten. The drying blood was still on his knuckles.
"You're going to knock us over before we reach the bed." Scar's hands moved to her shoulders, half grasping at her and half steadying her as they stumbled backwards together. He sounded more amused than cautionary. Lust wasn't aiming for the bed, anyway. The couch was much closer, and in a few steps Scar's legs hit against it and she pushed him down onto it.
She wasn't generally so forceful. She tended to lead, to urge, to coax. She met his pace. She enjoyed their normally equal interactions in bed. But tonight her need outweighed all else, and she hiked up her skirt and clambered into Scar's lap. She sat herself firmly in it, legs wrapping around him. Sitting like this, they were practically even in height. She wanted to take him tonight. As though she were reinforcing her claim to him.
"My shoe..."
"Forget your damn shoe." His shoes had nothing to do with this. She smoothed her hands over his chest and exhaled audibly, fingers tightening in his shirt. The mix of arousal and surprise in his eyes was a bit thrilling. He seemed to not know quite what to do with his hands all of a sudden, holding her hips, her breasts, then her back, then her buttocks. She could feel him still halfheartedly fiddling with his one remaining shoe, trying to toe it off while she occupied his lap.
Lust kissed him again. She took his lower lip between her teeth as her fingers tore at his buttons. His shirt came open easily and that was where she left it. She needed him. It was as though he'd spent an hour slowly building her up, despite the fact that he'd hardly even touched her. She could feel the proof of her arousal seeping through her underthings, hot against Scar's trousers. She could feel him, too, firm and ready beneath her.
It was about this time that they would stretch out, lie down in bed and progress to the next stage. But Lust stayed where she was, hands hectically moving over the bare skin on Scar's chest and abdomen. She sucked hard on his lips, his tongue. He sat up to meet her attentions, a half step behind. He made an effort to caress her aching breasts, but then her hands were down between them, reaching into the fierce heat where their loins met. His hands stilled where they were, partially inside her dress, covering her breasts through her brassiere. She pushed herself into him, reveling in the strength of his hands.
There was no need for foreplay tonight. Lust's readiness was apparent to every sense. She tore artlessly at the fastenings of Scar's fly, moaning as her wrist brushed against her own swollen sex. Long curls of hair pulled loose from their pins as she crushed her mouth against Scar's. Everything felt tight inside of her and throbbing. She pulled Scar's arousal loose from his fly and pulled aside the saddle of her underwear. It was a safe time.
She speared herself on him without ceremony, letting out a guttural cry as he filled her completely. His own grunt of pleasure echoed in her ears. The edges of his open fly pressed against the delicate skin of her inner thighs but she didn't care. She rode him hard, feet digging into the cushions of the couch for some sort of leverage. He simply gripped her breasts and held on, meeting her rhythm as best he could. She clung to him, her nails leaving dark crescent marks in his skin. Positioned as they were, it was more of a furious rocking with him buried inside her than anything else.
But it felt good. She wanted to feel him inside of her, filling her, fitting into her as though they'd been crafted for one another.
There was no build to it tonight. There was no warning tightening, no unfurling heat. There was only an explosive orgasm, then another, and another; quick bursts of blinding pleasure that cascaded into one another. She fell against him, clinging to him, crying out and biting into his shoulder. The edge of his open shirt brushed her cheek. She keened into him, her body shaking, almost spent.
One more small orgasm wracked her as Scar began thrusting properly - as properly as he could - his arms around her. He held her as he finished, and she kissed his neck and chest when she felt him stiffen and spill inside of her.
Lust curled against him, disheveled and trembling. He held her and kissed her hair, stroking her back, silent until she finally shifted and rolled off of him.
He still had one shoe on.
"Are you alright?"
There was a fondness in his voice as she flopped against the back of the couch, her skirt and slip still around her hips and her underthings all askew. Her dress was half open. Her hair was a mess. She raked a fall of tangled curls out of her face and nodded. She was more than alright. All she wanted now was to curl against him and fall asleep to his scent and the rise of his breath.
She limply reached for his hand and their fingers twined together, the best she could do at the moment. Her thumb brushed over the smudge of dried, blackened blood on his knuckles. His hand would be bruised tomorrow.
"I still shouldn't have hit that degenerate." He squeezed her hand.
Lust rolled her eyes at him with a sigh and turned onto her side to kiss him softly.
"I emphatically beg to differ."
Fandom: FMA AU
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Scar/Lust
Wordcount: 2,012
Summary: An public incident leads to violence and far more pleasant private surprises.
The cinema let out later than Lust had anticipated. There was little to do, for leisure, besides the cinema or dance halls. She wasn't much in the mood to dance lately. Work was growing scarcer and scarcer. Scar was comfortable in a construction position, he'd worked for the same man for three years now, but still Lust worried. More and more of the women in the neighborhood were having to find jobs. Even she took in stitching and wash sometimes, for an extra cushion. So they could go out for a nice meal or a double feature now and then.
It had been a good showing, though. Tarzan the Ape Man and The Mummy. The newsreels between had been the same depressing fodder, but the films had been thoroughly entertaining. Johnny Weissmuller hadn't been hard on the eyes, in that animal skin toga, and she always enjoyed the frightening ones. Scar always grumbled a bit about going out, but it had been well worth it.
She was waiting for Scar to finish up in the washroom, waiting outside and having half a smoke in the cold evening drizzle. She didn't have much of a habit, it was simply something to do to pass the time. And it made her look busy.
That didn't matter tonight, though. It was only a few moments before some slick haired, booze smelling American man sidled up to her. Good god, the one time she stepped out in front of the cinema on her own...
"I'm waiting for someone."
"And lookee here, he just showed up." The offered grin was far more unsettling than it was charming. Couldn't he see her wedding ring? Likely he didn't care. Lust sighed heavily and moved to cross to the other side of the cinema.
The man grabbed her wrist.
"You're lucky I cam along, a girl like you can get into real trouble out here. You need a proper man looking after you."
Lust was stunned. She was used to thinly veiled racist remarks, America was full of them, but that this man was laying hands on her... she was too stricken to even protest, it simply seemed such an absurd thing. Men never touched her. She knew the dangers, of course, but it wasn't yet midnight and she was on a main street in front of a lit cinema. This wasn't a back alley in Berlin!
A small shiver of fear went through her. The street was eerily empty at the moment.
"Let go of me." His hand was still on her wrist. He had dirty feeling hands. Unpleasantly coarse. She was sure he had dirty fingernails. The thought made her shudder in revulsion.
Whatever response he gave, Lust didn't hear it. She didn't know quite when Scar had exited the cinema, but suddenly he was there, a great towering shadow that moved with deceptive swiftness. He said nothing, only seemed to be dulling growling as he stepped between them and pushed her back behind him. The crack of knuckles on flesh was resounding. Lust heard the aggressor's nose break with a sickening sound. His hand released her wrist immediately.
It all happened with rapid quickness. One moment she was trying to free her wrist and then Scar was breaking the man's face and standing over him, shoulders heaving. The marquis lights illuminated him clearly, steam rising from his bare skin where the light rain hit him. The muscles in his neck stood out. She couldn't see them through his jacket, but she knew the same was true of his shoulders. It was in the way he held them. His fists were clenched. There was blood on his knuckles.
Something in Lust went weak.
Scar had always been an angry man. But she was used to him controlling it, keeping it under a tight rein. Seeing him lose himself like that, in defense of her... there was a distinct liquid heat building between her thighs already.
"I'm...sorry..."
Scar was turning, his breathing ragged. His hands were still balled into tight fists. Lust wet her parted lips and shook her head. The dampness of the night made the white shirt beneath his jacket mold to him. His apology died on his lips when he saw her, her eyes darkened with a hungry want, her mouth open.
"We're going home. Now."
It was the wisest course of action anyway, Scar had just assaulted a man. It hardly mattered why, not for them. But her rush was born of something else entirely.
Scar swallowed thickly and nodded, casting another glance to the prone man on the street. His nose was a mess, his face covered in blood. There was something darkly exciting about it. She took Scar's hand and pulled him off towards home. The scene replayed again and again in her mind. Scar, appearing from nowhere as a mountain of protective vengeance. The fluid arc of his fist. The curl of his lip. The rage in his eyes. Lust shuddered. She barely felt the light rain.
Scar attempted to apologize again on the walk - a fast walk - but Lust shushed him. He had nothing to apologize for. He'd defended her. His violence had been on her behalf and the action had gone straight to her libido. Rather than frightening her, it only reminded her that she was safe with him. She'd needed him and he'd been there. It was such a strange thing to cause such a physical, visceral reaction, and yet...
"That level of force was uncalled for."
"Scar, if you say one more word, I'm going to gag you. And that will make everything else exceptionally difficult." She kicked the door closed behind them as they hurried into their apartment. Scar flipped on the light and she grabbed him, pulling him down into a fierce kiss. She could quiet him other ways. Her fingers clenched together at the back of his neck and her tongue plundered his mouth without hesitation. He made a startled noise against her, and she was dimly aware he was trying to kick off his shoes.
She pushed him backwards as they kissed, unusually aggressive in her advances. His mouth against hers was distracted. She kicked aside one of his discarded shoes and wrestled his jacket off of him. It fell to the floor, forgotten. The drying blood was still on his knuckles.
"You're going to knock us over before we reach the bed." Scar's hands moved to her shoulders, half grasping at her and half steadying her as they stumbled backwards together. He sounded more amused than cautionary. Lust wasn't aiming for the bed, anyway. The couch was much closer, and in a few steps Scar's legs hit against it and she pushed him down onto it.
She wasn't generally so forceful. She tended to lead, to urge, to coax. She met his pace. She enjoyed their normally equal interactions in bed. But tonight her need outweighed all else, and she hiked up her skirt and clambered into Scar's lap. She sat herself firmly in it, legs wrapping around him. Sitting like this, they were practically even in height. She wanted to take him tonight. As though she were reinforcing her claim to him.
"My shoe..."
"Forget your damn shoe." His shoes had nothing to do with this. She smoothed her hands over his chest and exhaled audibly, fingers tightening in his shirt. The mix of arousal and surprise in his eyes was a bit thrilling. He seemed to not know quite what to do with his hands all of a sudden, holding her hips, her breasts, then her back, then her buttocks. She could feel him still halfheartedly fiddling with his one remaining shoe, trying to toe it off while she occupied his lap.
Lust kissed him again. She took his lower lip between her teeth as her fingers tore at his buttons. His shirt came open easily and that was where she left it. She needed him. It was as though he'd spent an hour slowly building her up, despite the fact that he'd hardly even touched her. She could feel the proof of her arousal seeping through her underthings, hot against Scar's trousers. She could feel him, too, firm and ready beneath her.
It was about this time that they would stretch out, lie down in bed and progress to the next stage. But Lust stayed where she was, hands hectically moving over the bare skin on Scar's chest and abdomen. She sucked hard on his lips, his tongue. He sat up to meet her attentions, a half step behind. He made an effort to caress her aching breasts, but then her hands were down between them, reaching into the fierce heat where their loins met. His hands stilled where they were, partially inside her dress, covering her breasts through her brassiere. She pushed herself into him, reveling in the strength of his hands.
There was no need for foreplay tonight. Lust's readiness was apparent to every sense. She tore artlessly at the fastenings of Scar's fly, moaning as her wrist brushed against her own swollen sex. Long curls of hair pulled loose from their pins as she crushed her mouth against Scar's. Everything felt tight inside of her and throbbing. She pulled Scar's arousal loose from his fly and pulled aside the saddle of her underwear. It was a safe time.
She speared herself on him without ceremony, letting out a guttural cry as he filled her completely. His own grunt of pleasure echoed in her ears. The edges of his open fly pressed against the delicate skin of her inner thighs but she didn't care. She rode him hard, feet digging into the cushions of the couch for some sort of leverage. He simply gripped her breasts and held on, meeting her rhythm as best he could. She clung to him, her nails leaving dark crescent marks in his skin. Positioned as they were, it was more of a furious rocking with him buried inside her than anything else.
But it felt good. She wanted to feel him inside of her, filling her, fitting into her as though they'd been crafted for one another.
There was no build to it tonight. There was no warning tightening, no unfurling heat. There was only an explosive orgasm, then another, and another; quick bursts of blinding pleasure that cascaded into one another. She fell against him, clinging to him, crying out and biting into his shoulder. The edge of his open shirt brushed her cheek. She keened into him, her body shaking, almost spent.
One more small orgasm wracked her as Scar began thrusting properly - as properly as he could - his arms around her. He held her as he finished, and she kissed his neck and chest when she felt him stiffen and spill inside of her.
Lust curled against him, disheveled and trembling. He held her and kissed her hair, stroking her back, silent until she finally shifted and rolled off of him.
He still had one shoe on.
"Are you alright?"
There was a fondness in his voice as she flopped against the back of the couch, her skirt and slip still around her hips and her underthings all askew. Her dress was half open. Her hair was a mess. She raked a fall of tangled curls out of her face and nodded. She was more than alright. All she wanted now was to curl against him and fall asleep to his scent and the rise of his breath.
She limply reached for his hand and their fingers twined together, the best she could do at the moment. Her thumb brushed over the smudge of dried, blackened blood on his knuckles. His hand would be bruised tomorrow.
"I still shouldn't have hit that degenerate." He squeezed her hand.
Lust rolled her eyes at him with a sigh and turned onto her side to kiss him softly.
"I emphatically beg to differ."