Faye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
said_scarlett) wrote2006-07-05 10:05 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2006-07-05 10:05 pm
Very AU FMA Fic (filtered)
Okay, this fic takes some explaining. Some of you may remember that a while ago, I had a dream with a handful of the cast of FMA as pirates. And that ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lacidiana and I took this idea and ran with it. And are still running. And are massing info from other friends of ours, and this is essentially turning into a big weird thing.
Out of that bizarre AU idea, this AU fic was born. Yes, this is an AU fan fic for an AU that technically doesn't exist yet. The basic things you need to know for this are: State Alchemists are naval officers, Ishbal was an island, and Hughes had a nasty 'accident' with being forced to walk the plank.
Anyway, this idea grabbed me, and as it does not belong at all in the actual AU, I just wrote it for the hell of it.
If you're still with me, awesome!
Title: Drifting On Empty Seas
Fandom: FMA (Pirate AU)
Pairing: Scar/Maes
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Um. For the Pirate AU, possibly.
Word Count: 2,291
Warnings: Frottage
Summary: Maes liked it when the nights were calm and the ocean was smooth as glass; it was peaceful. And sometimes Scar would join him on the deck and talk of ports he'd seen - both with Maes and alone. But even when speaking on pleasant things, there was something in the Ishbalan man's eyes that Maes could never read...
The sea was calm, the face of the ocean like a mirror beneath the night sky. Maes - known so as he couldn’t remember his own name when the scarred captain had pulled him from the churning waves - peered through the brilliant darkness. His eyesight was poor, but he could see no shapes of ships on the horizon. The night was still as glass, as the old sailors said.
Around him, the small ship creaked and groaned. Wood strained, heavy and thick with the ocean’s damp. The ropes whined, hanging limp from the towering poles of the mast. Maes liked nights like this, when everything was quiet and the ship rocked gently and even the cry of the seagulls was silenced. He leaned back in the ropes, using the coils as a cushion. It wasn’t the most comfortable of seats, but it would do.
He had tried to remember his life before he had been taken from the ocean, before Scar had saved his life and taken him onto his ship. But it was nothing but a blank canvas, as smooth and unblemished as the sea that stretched about him. Scar had called him Maes, because it meant ‘from the sea’ and he’d come from the sea . It was as good a name as any, when a man couldn’t remember his own. Besides that, he felt that it fit him. It seemed right, somehow, in a way he couldn‘t explain. Answering to it felt natural.
It was a strange ship, manned by the two of them alone. Maes knew that Scar was as much the name Scar had been born with as Maes was his own name. They were both men without pasts, the only difference being that Scar had forgotten his on purpose. But here, on the ocean, it didn’t matter.
“There is no wind.”
Maes looked up, startled. He hadn’t heard the scarred captain walk across the deck, but there he was. He was an imposing figure, tall and broad shouldered and stone faced. The loose shirt he wore did little to shield the coiled muscles of his arms, or the broad expanse of his chest. His white shock of hair gleamed in the moonlight.
“No, it’s been pretty quiet all watch,” Maes shrugged. He didn’t mind. Scar, however, looked less than pleased. But the dark skinned island man often looked displeased. It seemed to be his default expression.
“And there have been no ships?”
“Not a one.” Maes pulled himself to his feet. He knew he had to have been a man of the sea, as he was at ease on the decks of ships. “We’re all alone out here.”
“Good.” Scar nodded and grunted, his red eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon. He held out a hand and Maes saw a mug. “Tea.”
“Oh, thanks.” He still didn’t have the heart to tell the other man that he didn’t much like tea. But coffee seemed to be in short supply on the little ship, and it did no good to complain. Besides, any hot drink was welcome.
“You will rest soon.”
Scar never asked. He only ordered and told. Maes had grown used to the other man’s little ways after so many months upon the sea with him. He was a short tempered and brusque man, but Maes liked him. And sometimes, he would grow quiet and they would speak of the sea and the ports they had seen together and Scar would almost smile. Almost.
“Eh, I’m not all that tired.” Even if he hadn’t been asked, he could still protest. He grinned. “I think I got all the sleep I’ll ever need back in Derya!”
There it was, that faint twitch that passed for a smile on Scar’s lips.
“You would not have slept so much if you hadn’t accepted a drink from a strange woman.”
“Well… she was a really pretty woman,” Maes offered up in his defense. Scar only shrugged. Maes had never seen the other man take a woman, or even look at one with eyes of desire. Maybe it was wariness of the dock whores who would drug and rob sailors, but Maes thought there was more to it than that.
Of course, there were the rumors. The ones about men who lived at sea, forever in the company of other men. You got lonely. And you got…well, things happened. Sometimes they happened a lot. Sometimes a captain and a first mate would do more than just chart and map and navigate together. And maybe there were some men who only liked those sorts of things. Who liked those sorts of things to the exclusion of liking women-things.
Maybe Scar was one of those. But even that seemed odd, as Scar shared his ship with no one else. He didn’t need to Maes had soon learned. Scar was capable of controlling the very water the ship sailed upon, and a crew was hardly needed. But he’d kept Maes on…
They were standing together on the deck, Scar watching the ocean and Maes watching Scar. What was the captain seeing? His eyes had a faraway look in them. Again the question plagued Maes; why had Scar kept him on? Why hadn’t the man left him in the first port they came to? Scar didn’t need him. And he certainly didn’t seem like the type who craved company.
Or maybe he did want company, but wouldn’t admit it. Scar was a proud man, anyone with two eyes could see that. So maybe he was lonely. What kind of lonely… Maes shrugged to himself. Men had needs. Hell, he had needs. Which were never seen to what with the problem he had of being drugged and robbed by loose women. One of these days he’d learn how to tell the difference between a painted lady and a girl who just wanted a good time.
It did get lonely at sea. Maes was quite fond of the rare occasions when Scar would sit and talk with him. Maes didn’t know much about the man, but he knew he’d seen a lot.
“We will set a course for Conway in the morning,” Scar said, suddenly. “We’ll stock the ship there and leave for Glendwyr in the morning. And you will stay away from the street whores.”
“What can I say?” Maes shrugged and grinned. “They like me.”
“You’re an easy target.” But again, there was that slight softening of Scar’s lips. Maes turned, leaning casually against the railing of the ship.
“One of these days I’ll find the right lady.” He could almost see her, in his mind’s eye.
“Not selling herself on a dock, you won’t.” The smile was gone. Interesting. Maes shrugged again.
“Maybe not. But I’ll at least find someone to keep my bed warm for a night.”
“And you want that?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Maes shrugged and Scar lowered his eyes. Yes, this was very interesting. Maes moved closer, closing the distance between himself and his captain. What was the worst that could happen? Scar would yell. And Scar yelled a lot, so that really wasn’t much of a deterrent.
The moon was full. Even with poor eyesight, Maes could make out the chiseled lines of Scar’s face, the gleaming black tattoos on his arm. His brown skin was tinted bronze in the moonlight. Maes placed his hand over Scar’s, the one that rested on the railing of the ship. It was warm and rough. It didn’t move under Maes’s touch. Emboldened, Maes leaned closer, closing his eyes as his lips brushed against Scar’s. They were as rough as his hand.
A small part of Maes’s mind wondered if he’d ever kissed a man before. It felt normal. As normal as kissing a woman. And still Scar didn’t move. He stood like a statue, his breathing heavy.
Maes pulled away. He could still taste salt and brine on his lips.
“And you think I would warm your bed? You who fancies whores and tramps?”
Well. That hadn’t been the reaction Maes had been expecting. He wet his lips, nervously, and offered a sheepish shrug. He couldn’t read the expression in Scar’s eyes, but he saw no hostility there.
“You’re much better looking than any whore…” he offered, his voice and smile a clear indication that he was joking. “Come on, don’t make this a big thing. Either walk away, or I’m gonna kiss you again.”
At least Scar wasn’t yelling. And he wasn’t walking away, either. Maes made good on his promise and leaned in for another kiss, more forceful than the last. It was strangely easy and almost familiar. It was as though he had kissed roughened lips before, and felt a strong, flat chest against his own many times before now. Had he had men as lovers before this? He didn’t know. It was darkness behind that terrifying moment when he had been pulled from the sea. But that didn’t matter now, because the hand beneath his finally moved, twisting to twine fingers through his own.
Scar was returning the kiss now. Clumsily and hungrily and almost angrily. It wasn’t a lover’s kiss, not anywhere close. Maes didn’t know what sort of kiss it was, but he tasted the desperation that lay behind it. It was fierce and needy. It was the sort of kiss that writers penned to paper, not the sort that many men experienced in their lifetime. It was a good kiss.
Without breaking the kiss, Scar’s arm went around Maes. It crushed him close, holding him tightly on the gently rolling deck of the ship. Scar’s mouth parted beneath his, and the kiss deepened. Maes was pressed against the railing of the ship, rough skin sliding against rough skin as he sought to kiss Scar’s neck. No, none of this felt strange. Not the rasp of stubble, not the hard body, not the swell of arousal against his hip.
Scar tasted of the sea and the wind and the burning sun. Maes buried his face in the crook of Scar’s neck, licking at the wind-harshed skin there. He felt Scar’s hands move along his back, pulling him away from the railing. He twined his leg between the other man’s, pressing his own erection against the hard swell of Scar’s hip. It was hot and good and better than anything offered in any port that Maes could think of. He shuddered as Scar’s hands found his arse and gripped. He was tight against the other man now, so tight he could hardly breathe and the scent of Scar filled his senses and he let out a small noise of pleasure.
Writhing together, Maes found Scar’s lips once more. He couldn’t tell if they were moving of their own accord or moving with the ship but he didn’t care, because he was pressed so tightly against Scar’s hip and the pressure was all he needed and his hands twined in Scar’s hair holding him in a kiss that felt as though it lasted forever.
Maes was weak kneed when he broke the kiss, Scar’s erection was rubbing against his own and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. And he realized that he really was grinding against his captain on the deck of their ship, and Scar was making soft grunting noises against him and he wasn’t even sure how it happened but then it was over, and he clung to Scar as he climaxed, the rough fabric of the captain’s shirt pressed tightly against his face.
Scar held him a while, teeth grit and muscles strained as the other man sought his own peak. Maes clung to him still, his legs weak and his muscles drained. He supposed he should care about the mess, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to.
Scar released him. He stepped away without a word, watching the ocean and not Maes. His expression was guarded, as always, but Maes thought it was softer now. He cleared his throat, not sure what to say. What did you say at a time like this? And Maes found his first instinct was to make a joke, and he knew that would be out of place here.
Finally, Scar looked at him. It was as if the islander were studying him, like he’d never seen Maes before. It was almost uncomfortable, to be looked at so intently.
“You should get rest,” was all Scar said, nodding his head to the cabin. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”
“Thanks.” Maes didn’t know what else to say. He turned towards the cabin, and then turned back, because he couldn’t leave it like that.
“Goodnight,” he said, and he kissed Scar once more, and this time it was a lover’s kiss. And Scar returned it, hesitantly. Maes smiled and headed off to the cabin to clean himself up and get some sleep.
They were an odd pair on an odd ship, but Maes figured they worked pretty well together. He closed the cabin door and left Scar standing on the deck, bathed in moonlight and watching the sea.
lacidiana and I took this idea and ran with it. And are still running. And are massing info from other friends of ours, and this is essentially turning into a big weird thing. Out of that bizarre AU idea, this AU fic was born. Yes, this is an AU fan fic for an AU that technically doesn't exist yet. The basic things you need to know for this are: State Alchemists are naval officers, Ishbal was an island, and Hughes had a nasty 'accident' with being forced to walk the plank.
Anyway, this idea grabbed me, and as it does not belong at all in the actual AU, I just wrote it for the hell of it.
If you're still with me, awesome!
Title: Drifting On Empty Seas
Fandom: FMA (Pirate AU)
Pairing: Scar/Maes
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Um. For the Pirate AU, possibly.
Word Count: 2,291
Warnings: Frottage
Summary: Maes liked it when the nights were calm and the ocean was smooth as glass; it was peaceful. And sometimes Scar would join him on the deck and talk of ports he'd seen - both with Maes and alone. But even when speaking on pleasant things, there was something in the Ishbalan man's eyes that Maes could never read...
The sea was calm, the face of the ocean like a mirror beneath the night sky. Maes - known so as he couldn’t remember his own name when the scarred captain had pulled him from the churning waves - peered through the brilliant darkness. His eyesight was poor, but he could see no shapes of ships on the horizon. The night was still as glass, as the old sailors said.
Around him, the small ship creaked and groaned. Wood strained, heavy and thick with the ocean’s damp. The ropes whined, hanging limp from the towering poles of the mast. Maes liked nights like this, when everything was quiet and the ship rocked gently and even the cry of the seagulls was silenced. He leaned back in the ropes, using the coils as a cushion. It wasn’t the most comfortable of seats, but it would do.
He had tried to remember his life before he had been taken from the ocean, before Scar had saved his life and taken him onto his ship. But it was nothing but a blank canvas, as smooth and unblemished as the sea that stretched about him. Scar had called him Maes, because it meant ‘from the sea’ and he’d come from the sea . It was as good a name as any, when a man couldn’t remember his own. Besides that, he felt that it fit him. It seemed right, somehow, in a way he couldn‘t explain. Answering to it felt natural.
It was a strange ship, manned by the two of them alone. Maes knew that Scar was as much the name Scar had been born with as Maes was his own name. They were both men without pasts, the only difference being that Scar had forgotten his on purpose. But here, on the ocean, it didn’t matter.
“There is no wind.”
Maes looked up, startled. He hadn’t heard the scarred captain walk across the deck, but there he was. He was an imposing figure, tall and broad shouldered and stone faced. The loose shirt he wore did little to shield the coiled muscles of his arms, or the broad expanse of his chest. His white shock of hair gleamed in the moonlight.
“No, it’s been pretty quiet all watch,” Maes shrugged. He didn’t mind. Scar, however, looked less than pleased. But the dark skinned island man often looked displeased. It seemed to be his default expression.
“And there have been no ships?”
“Not a one.” Maes pulled himself to his feet. He knew he had to have been a man of the sea, as he was at ease on the decks of ships. “We’re all alone out here.”
“Good.” Scar nodded and grunted, his red eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon. He held out a hand and Maes saw a mug. “Tea.”
“Oh, thanks.” He still didn’t have the heart to tell the other man that he didn’t much like tea. But coffee seemed to be in short supply on the little ship, and it did no good to complain. Besides, any hot drink was welcome.
“You will rest soon.”
Scar never asked. He only ordered and told. Maes had grown used to the other man’s little ways after so many months upon the sea with him. He was a short tempered and brusque man, but Maes liked him. And sometimes, he would grow quiet and they would speak of the sea and the ports they had seen together and Scar would almost smile. Almost.
“Eh, I’m not all that tired.” Even if he hadn’t been asked, he could still protest. He grinned. “I think I got all the sleep I’ll ever need back in Derya!”
There it was, that faint twitch that passed for a smile on Scar’s lips.
“You would not have slept so much if you hadn’t accepted a drink from a strange woman.”
“Well… she was a really pretty woman,” Maes offered up in his defense. Scar only shrugged. Maes had never seen the other man take a woman, or even look at one with eyes of desire. Maybe it was wariness of the dock whores who would drug and rob sailors, but Maes thought there was more to it than that.
Of course, there were the rumors. The ones about men who lived at sea, forever in the company of other men. You got lonely. And you got…well, things happened. Sometimes they happened a lot. Sometimes a captain and a first mate would do more than just chart and map and navigate together. And maybe there were some men who only liked those sorts of things. Who liked those sorts of things to the exclusion of liking women-things.
Maybe Scar was one of those. But even that seemed odd, as Scar shared his ship with no one else. He didn’t need to Maes had soon learned. Scar was capable of controlling the very water the ship sailed upon, and a crew was hardly needed. But he’d kept Maes on…
They were standing together on the deck, Scar watching the ocean and Maes watching Scar. What was the captain seeing? His eyes had a faraway look in them. Again the question plagued Maes; why had Scar kept him on? Why hadn’t the man left him in the first port they came to? Scar didn’t need him. And he certainly didn’t seem like the type who craved company.
Or maybe he did want company, but wouldn’t admit it. Scar was a proud man, anyone with two eyes could see that. So maybe he was lonely. What kind of lonely… Maes shrugged to himself. Men had needs. Hell, he had needs. Which were never seen to what with the problem he had of being drugged and robbed by loose women. One of these days he’d learn how to tell the difference between a painted lady and a girl who just wanted a good time.
It did get lonely at sea. Maes was quite fond of the rare occasions when Scar would sit and talk with him. Maes didn’t know much about the man, but he knew he’d seen a lot.
“We will set a course for Conway in the morning,” Scar said, suddenly. “We’ll stock the ship there and leave for Glendwyr in the morning. And you will stay away from the street whores.”
“What can I say?” Maes shrugged and grinned. “They like me.”
“You’re an easy target.” But again, there was that slight softening of Scar’s lips. Maes turned, leaning casually against the railing of the ship.
“One of these days I’ll find the right lady.” He could almost see her, in his mind’s eye.
“Not selling herself on a dock, you won’t.” The smile was gone. Interesting. Maes shrugged again.
“Maybe not. But I’ll at least find someone to keep my bed warm for a night.”
“And you want that?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Maes shrugged and Scar lowered his eyes. Yes, this was very interesting. Maes moved closer, closing the distance between himself and his captain. What was the worst that could happen? Scar would yell. And Scar yelled a lot, so that really wasn’t much of a deterrent.
The moon was full. Even with poor eyesight, Maes could make out the chiseled lines of Scar’s face, the gleaming black tattoos on his arm. His brown skin was tinted bronze in the moonlight. Maes placed his hand over Scar’s, the one that rested on the railing of the ship. It was warm and rough. It didn’t move under Maes’s touch. Emboldened, Maes leaned closer, closing his eyes as his lips brushed against Scar’s. They were as rough as his hand.
A small part of Maes’s mind wondered if he’d ever kissed a man before. It felt normal. As normal as kissing a woman. And still Scar didn’t move. He stood like a statue, his breathing heavy.
Maes pulled away. He could still taste salt and brine on his lips.
“And you think I would warm your bed? You who fancies whores and tramps?”
Well. That hadn’t been the reaction Maes had been expecting. He wet his lips, nervously, and offered a sheepish shrug. He couldn’t read the expression in Scar’s eyes, but he saw no hostility there.
“You’re much better looking than any whore…” he offered, his voice and smile a clear indication that he was joking. “Come on, don’t make this a big thing. Either walk away, or I’m gonna kiss you again.”
At least Scar wasn’t yelling. And he wasn’t walking away, either. Maes made good on his promise and leaned in for another kiss, more forceful than the last. It was strangely easy and almost familiar. It was as though he had kissed roughened lips before, and felt a strong, flat chest against his own many times before now. Had he had men as lovers before this? He didn’t know. It was darkness behind that terrifying moment when he had been pulled from the sea. But that didn’t matter now, because the hand beneath his finally moved, twisting to twine fingers through his own.
Scar was returning the kiss now. Clumsily and hungrily and almost angrily. It wasn’t a lover’s kiss, not anywhere close. Maes didn’t know what sort of kiss it was, but he tasted the desperation that lay behind it. It was fierce and needy. It was the sort of kiss that writers penned to paper, not the sort that many men experienced in their lifetime. It was a good kiss.
Without breaking the kiss, Scar’s arm went around Maes. It crushed him close, holding him tightly on the gently rolling deck of the ship. Scar’s mouth parted beneath his, and the kiss deepened. Maes was pressed against the railing of the ship, rough skin sliding against rough skin as he sought to kiss Scar’s neck. No, none of this felt strange. Not the rasp of stubble, not the hard body, not the swell of arousal against his hip.
Scar tasted of the sea and the wind and the burning sun. Maes buried his face in the crook of Scar’s neck, licking at the wind-harshed skin there. He felt Scar’s hands move along his back, pulling him away from the railing. He twined his leg between the other man’s, pressing his own erection against the hard swell of Scar’s hip. It was hot and good and better than anything offered in any port that Maes could think of. He shuddered as Scar’s hands found his arse and gripped. He was tight against the other man now, so tight he could hardly breathe and the scent of Scar filled his senses and he let out a small noise of pleasure.
Writhing together, Maes found Scar’s lips once more. He couldn’t tell if they were moving of their own accord or moving with the ship but he didn’t care, because he was pressed so tightly against Scar’s hip and the pressure was all he needed and his hands twined in Scar’s hair holding him in a kiss that felt as though it lasted forever.
Maes was weak kneed when he broke the kiss, Scar’s erection was rubbing against his own and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. And he realized that he really was grinding against his captain on the deck of their ship, and Scar was making soft grunting noises against him and he wasn’t even sure how it happened but then it was over, and he clung to Scar as he climaxed, the rough fabric of the captain’s shirt pressed tightly against his face.
Scar held him a while, teeth grit and muscles strained as the other man sought his own peak. Maes clung to him still, his legs weak and his muscles drained. He supposed he should care about the mess, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to.
Scar released him. He stepped away without a word, watching the ocean and not Maes. His expression was guarded, as always, but Maes thought it was softer now. He cleared his throat, not sure what to say. What did you say at a time like this? And Maes found his first instinct was to make a joke, and he knew that would be out of place here.
Finally, Scar looked at him. It was as if the islander were studying him, like he’d never seen Maes before. It was almost uncomfortable, to be looked at so intently.
“You should get rest,” was all Scar said, nodding his head to the cabin. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”
“Thanks.” Maes didn’t know what else to say. He turned towards the cabin, and then turned back, because he couldn’t leave it like that.
“Goodnight,” he said, and he kissed Scar once more, and this time it was a lover’s kiss. And Scar returned it, hesitantly. Maes smiled and headed off to the cabin to clean himself up and get some sleep.
They were an odd pair on an odd ship, but Maes figured they worked pretty well together. He closed the cabin door and left Scar standing on the deck, bathed in moonlight and watching the sea.