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Bathtime Mal for ![[info]](https://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
yukitheawesome
Roy Swimming-In-The-Buff forcornerofmadness
droiche
moshesque
yukitheawesome Looking at this from a reasonable perspective, he doesn’t have much room to complain but, rut it, Mal’s not in the most reasonable mood at the moment.
He slouches lower into the hot water, bubbles frothing up his chest.
Inara doesn’t seem to mind and switches from caressing his shoulder with a wash cloth to running the warm and sopping fabric along his neck.
His body wanted to relax into her wiles like a pat of butter on a hot stove.
He’d thought it was bad when he’d pretended to be her indentured servant, but this? This was a whole ‘verse worse.
“Do you need more hot water?” a servant asked Inara.
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” the Companion said graciously, pouring water over Mal’s head. “My pet is almost clean now.”
If this was the best rescue his crew could come up with, Mal thought, fragrant steam wafting around his face, he was just going to tell them to leave in jail next time.
He slouches lower into the hot water, bubbles frothing up his chest.
Inara doesn’t seem to mind and switches from caressing his shoulder with a wash cloth to running the warm and sopping fabric along his neck.
His body wanted to relax into her wiles like a pat of butter on a hot stove.
He’d thought it was bad when he’d pretended to be her indentured servant, but this? This was a whole ‘verse worse.
“Do you need more hot water?” a servant asked Inara.
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” the Companion said graciously, pouring water over Mal’s head. “My pet is almost clean now.”
If this was the best rescue his crew could come up with, Mal thought, fragrant steam wafting around his face, he was just going to tell them to leave in jail next time.
Roy Swimming-In-The-Buff for
cornerofmadnessIn Ishbal, Roy dreamed of water and Riza.
His nights had been full of images of water since he first came to the desert, and Riza appeared as soon as he met the sniper with dead eyes and a pretty face who kept him alive.
(He always referred to her as Lieutenant Hawkeye, even to Hughes, even after he stole a look at her personnel records in order to learn her first name. As a boy he would have found that romantic - with blood on his hands and the scent of burning flesh charred into his skin, he found it pathetic.)
He was swimming in the most glorious lake, crystal waters cupped between a ring of hills. The water was so clear he could see his toes and the individual grains of sand he stood on. Around him, the forested slopes of the hills were reflected in the still surface. The water was cool, pure, and slid over his skin like a lover’s caress.
“You should join me,” he tells Hawkeye. She’s standing with her back to him, the blue wool of his uniform draped over her arm.
Roy watched the military-perfect line of her back, lets his eyes linger on the nape of her neck, bared to his sight by her cropped hair.
“No, thank you,” she says politely, just like she refuses Maes attempts to befriend her, wary of the cheerfulness Roy’s best friend can manage even in the middle of a holocaust.
“The water is heavenly,” he tells her. “Won’t you join me, Riza?”
“It’s hell, sir,” she informed him.
Roy looked around. Crisp, cool water, verdant green trees, the air smelling of sun and life...
“You just can’t see the flames, Major Mustang,” she continued, turning, and her face is blackened, burned away. She’s walking towards him, boot heels ringing against the surface of the water.
She drew her pistol and he stared at it, stared at her hands on the grip. They looked real, competent, clipped nails, tanned skin, clearly Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye’s hands.
Roy watched her squeeze the trigger and didn’t want to wake up.
He always does.
On-His-Knees Sanzo for His nights had been full of images of water since he first came to the desert, and Riza appeared as soon as he met the sniper with dead eyes and a pretty face who kept him alive.
(He always referred to her as Lieutenant Hawkeye, even to Hughes, even after he stole a look at her personnel records in order to learn her first name. As a boy he would have found that romantic - with blood on his hands and the scent of burning flesh charred into his skin, he found it pathetic.)
He was swimming in the most glorious lake, crystal waters cupped between a ring of hills. The water was so clear he could see his toes and the individual grains of sand he stood on. Around him, the forested slopes of the hills were reflected in the still surface. The water was cool, pure, and slid over his skin like a lover’s caress.
“You should join me,” he tells Hawkeye. She’s standing with her back to him, the blue wool of his uniform draped over her arm.
Roy watched the military-perfect line of her back, lets his eyes linger on the nape of her neck, bared to his sight by her cropped hair.
“No, thank you,” she says politely, just like she refuses Maes attempts to befriend her, wary of the cheerfulness Roy’s best friend can manage even in the middle of a holocaust.
“The water is heavenly,” he tells her. “Won’t you join me, Riza?”
“It’s hell, sir,” she informed him.
Roy looked around. Crisp, cool water, verdant green trees, the air smelling of sun and life...
“You just can’t see the flames, Major Mustang,” she continued, turning, and her face is blackened, burned away. She’s walking towards him, boot heels ringing against the surface of the water.
She drew her pistol and he stared at it, stared at her hands on the grip. They looked real, competent, clipped nails, tanned skin, clearly Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye’s hands.
Roy watched her squeeze the trigger and didn’t want to wake up.
He always does.
droicheGenjyo Sanzo disliked the Sanbutsushin.
They were purported to be the three faces of Buddha, almost Bodhisattvas in their own right, yet of the teachings they seemed to only understand compassion and nothing of nonattachment.
Sanzo always approached them with respect and left with another fucking piece of baggage.
Cold, white marble pressed against his knee and hand, while they informed him of failures and obligations and wrapped attachments around his throat like garrotes.
First it was just insults and servitude, followed by an obnoxiously polite murderer who came with a bonus irritating and over-sexed kappa and then finally this fucking field trip, clearly designed by a sadistic goddess to be the most annoying thing in existence.
“Oh, Konzen, you're finally noticing the effort I put into allowing you to save the world,” Kanzeon Bosatsu commented, “but would a little appreciation be too much to ask?”
Sanzo wondered why he had the sudden urge to flip off the sky.
Since he didn’t kneel to irrational desires, he settled for reasonably smacking the two idiots in the back with his harisan while Hakkai caromed down a goat track that was pretending to be a road.
Hakkai Well-Shagged for They were purported to be the three faces of Buddha, almost Bodhisattvas in their own right, yet of the teachings they seemed to only understand compassion and nothing of nonattachment.
Sanzo always approached them with respect and left with another fucking piece of baggage.
Cold, white marble pressed against his knee and hand, while they informed him of failures and obligations and wrapped attachments around his throat like garrotes.
First it was just insults and servitude, followed by an obnoxiously polite murderer who came with a bonus irritating and over-sexed kappa and then finally this fucking field trip, clearly designed by a sadistic goddess to be the most annoying thing in existence.
~~~
“Oh, Konzen, you're finally noticing the effort I put into allowing you to save the world,” Kanzeon Bosatsu commented, “but would a little appreciation be too much to ask?”
~~~
Sanzo wondered why he had the sudden urge to flip off the sky.
Since he didn’t kneel to irrational desires, he settled for reasonably smacking the two idiots in the back with his harisan while Hakkai caromed down a goat track that was pretending to be a road.
moshesqueShe always leaves him before dawn.
Hakkai supposes he can’t complain. After all, when she starts to get dressed, he’s always sprawled limp across the bed or panting as he leans against the wall or spread out across the floor, limbs heavy with pleasure and back stinging from her nails.
She leaves him with endorphins flowing through his body, leaves him satisfied, but she leaves him nonetheless.
She leaves, and the silence she leaves behind is always louder than the memory of her gasps and cries.
Hakkai supposes he can’t complain. After all, when she starts to get dressed, he’s always sprawled limp across the bed or panting as he leans against the wall or spread out across the floor, limbs heavy with pleasure and back stinging from her nails.
She leaves him with endorphins flowing through his body, leaves him satisfied, but she leaves him nonetheless.
She leaves, and the silence she leaves behind is always louder than the memory of her gasps and cries.
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And Hakkai well shagged....mmmm. I don't think I need to say much more than hot. And poor Hakkai. Maybe one day she'll be able to watch the sun rise with him, huh? :D
I'm sappy tonight. Leave me be. :P
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Poor Hakkai. But he's being well compensated for his pain, you know? And one day, I assure you, he will watch the sun rise with Yaone.
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And yeah, I think watching the sunrise with Yaone would be his best morning ever.
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Hakkai and Yaone, I don't think it matters what they're doing... they're gorgeous. :D And I don't know if it's just 'cause I live by a lake or what, but I like sunsets more- They're peach and purpley colored. Sunrise over here is yellow and bright blue... and painful if you'd rather sleep... >>
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Yeah, Hakkai x Yaone are made of win.
I like sunset better myself - but that could be because I see more, and when I'm seeing a sunrise, I'm usually like, 'that isn't pretty - it's just a sign that I'm getting up way the hell too early.'
Thanks for commenting!
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Agreed.