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said_scarlett) wrote2007-03-23 04:32 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2007-03-23 04:32 pm
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fma_fuh_q Fic For March!
Title: The Alchemist In Passionate Repose
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
theladyfeylene
Genre: PWP
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hohenheim/Hand, Hohenheim/Trisha
Word Count: 1012
Summary: Hohenheim wasn't generally a man given to self pleasure, but he couldn't shake the image of Trisha's rain-soaked form from his mind....
There was something somewhat surreal and disorienting about being centuries old and still needing to take a bit of private time. But it had begun to rain, and Trisha had been wearing a white dress with nearly nothing underneath. The soft cotton had clung to her, molding against her nymph-like figure. Hohenheim had found his eyes riveted to her breasts, perfectly defined by the sodden cloth. Her nipples had been hard, pressing tightly against her dress. Only a blind man wouldn’t have looked.
Hohenheim had been a gentleman, offering her his coat and taking her back to her family home. They had shared a chaste kiss - cold and damp from the rain - and nothing more. She was far too young and inexperienced for anything further, much as Hohenheim would have liked to go further. But even after returning to the small room he rented, the image of Trisha’s breasts, barely hidden by her rain-soaked clothing, lingered in his mind.
As gentlemanly as he was, Hohenheim was a warm-blooded man and Trisha was a beautiful young woman. Young and innocent and so untouched by the harsh realities of the world outside of Risembool. She was everything that Hohenheim had always cherished in a woman. Everything that he - and Dante - weren’t. She stirred him in ways few women did these days. And beyond the physical, she was intelligent and inquisitive, bursting with life and joy. A breath of fresh air in Hohenheim’s stale and blood-soaked past.
But therein lay the crux. Trisha was young and innocent, untouched by men. And Hohenheim had far more than simply a physical attraction to her. The small village girl had captured Hohenheim’s attention in ways no woman had in centuries. And he was hardly so brutish as to push himself - or physical attentions - onto her. Much as he wanted her, he was not that manner of man. It was one thing to seduce a more seasoned woman with little thought, another to bewitch an innocent to his bed. An innocent, he was reluctant to admit, he believed he was falling in love with.
And so there he was, standing beneath a hot shower, unable to keep his mind from envisioning Trisha’s breasts without that thin shield of wet cloth. He could see them so perfectly, small and high and pale - perfection in female form. How easily he could imagine cupping them in his hands, feeling her small nipples press against his palms. He knew already that her skin felt like silk. He longed to touch her breasts, to feel them bare against his skin, feel her nipples tightening at his touch.
Even the fantasies of his imagination were enough to stir him to aching hardness, blood rushing downwards as he thought of Trisha‘s breasts. He pursed his lips together, imagining closing them about one of Trisha’s hardened nipples. He could almost taste her skin. It felt so wrong, so dirty to be thinking of the girl like this - she was so young, hardly even a woman! But he couldn’t help himself. Would she cry out when his lips touched her? Or would her noises be small, soft, like her? Would she reach boldly for him, or need him to guide her?
Hohenheim imagined her slender hand wrapping around his hardness. He reached down his own body, finally touching himself, leaning back against the slick tile of the shower. He could see it so clearly - Trisha, kneeling, her dress pulled down to expose her breasts, her hand stroking him as she looked up at him with mischievous but bashful eyes.
Hohenheim couldn’t bite back a moan, his fingers tightening around his erection. Would she use her mouth? The thought of those soft, innocent lips wrapped around his cock was almost enough to send Hohenheim over the edge then and there. Would she lean forward some, her breasts swaying as she took more of him into her mouth? He could see himself cupping her breasts, palming them, pinching her nipples between his fingers as she used her mouth on him, one hand gripping the base of his cock. He grit his teeth, his own hand moving over himself as his mind continued to paint the picture, Trisha, beautiful Trisha, running her tongue along his erection. Her hair falling in her face, her slim back arched, her small round buttocks lifted ever-so-slightly...
Hohenheim was too far gone for shame now. He tilted his head back, his hand moving quickly now, envisioning himself rubbing his erection against Trisha’s small breasts, imagining the silken-soft feel of her skin against his. Would she let him touch her? Lift up her skirt and run his fingers along her inner thighs, to the junction between? Would she be wet for him? Had she ever touched herself, or would her flesh truly be untouched, explored by none but him? Would her legs spread to his touch? Would she cry out then, when his fingers brushed against those secret places that brought women such pleasure? Would her hand jerk against him, tighten?
Hohenheim bit his lower lip, feeling the first stirrings of his climax. He could see it so clearly. She would lean forward when he touched her, on her hands and knees, his cock nestled against her throat. Her head would fall back and her fingers would clench and her breasts would bounce as she shook. And Hohenheim would lean forward, guide his erection to nestle between her swaying breasts as he slipped one finger inside of her. She would be so tight, so very tight. It was sinful, really, to think of such things. But he couldn’t help it!
And perhaps it was the sin of it that made Hohenheim’s climax so powerful. The thought of feeling his fingers inside of Trisha while her breasts moved against his cock was all it took. He finished into his own hand, the hot water nearly gone, his emissions disappearing down the drain as he sank back against the tile.
Author:
theladyfeyleneGenre: PWP
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hohenheim/Hand, Hohenheim/Trisha
Word Count: 1012
Summary: Hohenheim wasn't generally a man given to self pleasure, but he couldn't shake the image of Trisha's rain-soaked form from his mind....
There was something somewhat surreal and disorienting about being centuries old and still needing to take a bit of private time. But it had begun to rain, and Trisha had been wearing a white dress with nearly nothing underneath. The soft cotton had clung to her, molding against her nymph-like figure. Hohenheim had found his eyes riveted to her breasts, perfectly defined by the sodden cloth. Her nipples had been hard, pressing tightly against her dress. Only a blind man wouldn’t have looked.
Hohenheim had been a gentleman, offering her his coat and taking her back to her family home. They had shared a chaste kiss - cold and damp from the rain - and nothing more. She was far too young and inexperienced for anything further, much as Hohenheim would have liked to go further. But even after returning to the small room he rented, the image of Trisha’s breasts, barely hidden by her rain-soaked clothing, lingered in his mind.
As gentlemanly as he was, Hohenheim was a warm-blooded man and Trisha was a beautiful young woman. Young and innocent and so untouched by the harsh realities of the world outside of Risembool. She was everything that Hohenheim had always cherished in a woman. Everything that he - and Dante - weren’t. She stirred him in ways few women did these days. And beyond the physical, she was intelligent and inquisitive, bursting with life and joy. A breath of fresh air in Hohenheim’s stale and blood-soaked past.
But therein lay the crux. Trisha was young and innocent, untouched by men. And Hohenheim had far more than simply a physical attraction to her. The small village girl had captured Hohenheim’s attention in ways no woman had in centuries. And he was hardly so brutish as to push himself - or physical attentions - onto her. Much as he wanted her, he was not that manner of man. It was one thing to seduce a more seasoned woman with little thought, another to bewitch an innocent to his bed. An innocent, he was reluctant to admit, he believed he was falling in love with.
And so there he was, standing beneath a hot shower, unable to keep his mind from envisioning Trisha’s breasts without that thin shield of wet cloth. He could see them so perfectly, small and high and pale - perfection in female form. How easily he could imagine cupping them in his hands, feeling her small nipples press against his palms. He knew already that her skin felt like silk. He longed to touch her breasts, to feel them bare against his skin, feel her nipples tightening at his touch.
Even the fantasies of his imagination were enough to stir him to aching hardness, blood rushing downwards as he thought of Trisha‘s breasts. He pursed his lips together, imagining closing them about one of Trisha’s hardened nipples. He could almost taste her skin. It felt so wrong, so dirty to be thinking of the girl like this - she was so young, hardly even a woman! But he couldn’t help himself. Would she cry out when his lips touched her? Or would her noises be small, soft, like her? Would she reach boldly for him, or need him to guide her?
Hohenheim imagined her slender hand wrapping around his hardness. He reached down his own body, finally touching himself, leaning back against the slick tile of the shower. He could see it so clearly - Trisha, kneeling, her dress pulled down to expose her breasts, her hand stroking him as she looked up at him with mischievous but bashful eyes.
Hohenheim couldn’t bite back a moan, his fingers tightening around his erection. Would she use her mouth? The thought of those soft, innocent lips wrapped around his cock was almost enough to send Hohenheim over the edge then and there. Would she lean forward some, her breasts swaying as she took more of him into her mouth? He could see himself cupping her breasts, palming them, pinching her nipples between his fingers as she used her mouth on him, one hand gripping the base of his cock. He grit his teeth, his own hand moving over himself as his mind continued to paint the picture, Trisha, beautiful Trisha, running her tongue along his erection. Her hair falling in her face, her slim back arched, her small round buttocks lifted ever-so-slightly...
Hohenheim was too far gone for shame now. He tilted his head back, his hand moving quickly now, envisioning himself rubbing his erection against Trisha’s small breasts, imagining the silken-soft feel of her skin against his. Would she let him touch her? Lift up her skirt and run his fingers along her inner thighs, to the junction between? Would she be wet for him? Had she ever touched herself, or would her flesh truly be untouched, explored by none but him? Would her legs spread to his touch? Would she cry out then, when his fingers brushed against those secret places that brought women such pleasure? Would her hand jerk against him, tighten?
Hohenheim bit his lower lip, feeling the first stirrings of his climax. He could see it so clearly. She would lean forward when he touched her, on her hands and knees, his cock nestled against her throat. Her head would fall back and her fingers would clench and her breasts would bounce as she shook. And Hohenheim would lean forward, guide his erection to nestle between her swaying breasts as he slipped one finger inside of her. She would be so tight, so very tight. It was sinful, really, to think of such things. But he couldn’t help it!
And perhaps it was the sin of it that made Hohenheim’s climax so powerful. The thought of feeling his fingers inside of Trisha while her breasts moved against his cock was all it took. He finished into his own hand, the hot water nearly gone, his emissions disappearing down the drain as he sank back against the tile.
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Plus, the imaginary sex was really hot.
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:D:D:D
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Second of all, YAY! for Hoho/Trisha fic.
Third, this was really great! I loved the way you characterized Hohenheim and the way he thinks. It was really interesting. And HOT. *silently prays for more*
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I love them, so much.
Yay, thank you! I'm very glad you enjoyed!
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