carnimirie: (FMA-ibesemenow?)
rowan ★ like i've never seen the sky before ★ ([personal profile] carnimirie) wrote2007-01-04 10:59 pm
Entry tags:

Dexterity

This be my [profile] fma_fuh_q fic for the month of December (yes, I know it's January!!) and my pairing was...Jean Havoc x His Hand.

.............

What? 

Anyway, feel free to read, if you want.  It's...not that good, but...

Dexterity

“Oh, Jean, I didn’t know you could play the piano!”

Well, nobody did, he thought as he sat down on the bench, slouching. Of course tonight had been just one more rejection to add to his long history of “world’s worst luck with women.” Of course Mustang had been the reason, yet again. And of course Jean found himself alone once more, faced with a long night in a cold, empty bed, with only tomorrow to look forward to. He sighed. What had he done to deserve this? It wasn’t that he was bad looking, or that he was a jerk, or even that he was boring. Hell, who could be when they worked for Colonel Roy Mustang?

Colonel-fucking-Mustang. That was the problem: while Havoc wasn’t “bad-looking”, Mustang was handsome; and though Jean wasn’t a jerk, Roy was charming. And while Jean worked for Mustang, Roy was Mustang, and…and dammit, how could he compete against that?!

Not to say he hadn’t tried; Jean even learned how to play the piano in his efforts of wooing a woman. Unfortunately, he’d never gotten the chance to put the skill to use…Absently, Jean placed his hands on the smooth white keys and began to play, not paying attention much to the music he was making.

What a pity that he never had the chance to play for someone, he thought as his fingers danced across the keys. Though, he had to admit that he was pretty good, able to play a few songs without music or even looking at his hands. It was fascinating to watch his hands fly over the keys, knowing the music that was filling the room was created by himself, and Jean found that he was doing just that, filled with a detached wonder at his hand’s talent. As though these weren’t his hands at all, but someone else playing, just for his enjoyment.

And…dammit, Jean thought as he felt his blood rushing through his veins, why the fuck was he getting excited just watching his hands playing the piano??? Ok, he hadn’t seen much action in…a while, but still! Was he really that horny that a little piano music could get a standing ovation out of him, as it were? In a gesture of shame and embarrassment, Jean tore his pants open and shoved his hand down them, letting the other rest on top of the keys. “Let’s just get this over with,” he thought, his hand curling around his cock.

Determined to take care of his arousal as fast as possible, he started to pump his erection, his hand growing slick and sweaty as he moved it up and down his pulsating member. Jean closed his eyes and willed himself to think of someone, anyone, that would help pushing him toward the edge…

But no one came to mind, only the image of his hands flowing over the piano keys, delicate, graceful, full of care and love for the music they were making. He bit down on his lip as he felt a groan try to escape. What the hell? Why was that turning him on so much? He tightened his hands in sexual frustration, and a jarring sound came from the piano. Opening his eyes, Jean found his other hand clenching the edge of the piano, a few of his fingers pushing down on the keys. That wouldn’t do, he thought, lifting his hand and commencing a one-handed melody. His other hand, the one wrapped around his cock, paused in its movement as the music filled the room again.

The song was light and whimsical and gradually, Jean released the tight grip on his cock, his hand and fingers mimicking the music with equally light and delicate touches over his sensitive flesh. He rubbed his thumb over the head, spreading the precum around, then moved his fingers to the base of his member, rubbing it softly. His other hand, the one playing the piano, paused as he shivered at the caresses gently dancing over him, then began again, this time with an underlying hint of urgency that was immediately taken up by the hand down his pants. Higher and higher the music rose, a great crescendo building louder and louder, while inside him, Jean felt closer and closer to the edge, a pressure building up inside him that longed to be released, to just let go and fall forever…

And then, the music crested into a wave of glory, just as his orgasm washed over him, a drawn-out moan mingling with the music as he came. Jean slouched at the piano for a moment afterwards, the song slowly dying as he regained his senses. Havoc pulled himself together, wiping his sticky hand against his pants, and letting his other hand fall to his side.

Jean glanced from one hand to the other. Then, he groaned. How pathetic was this? That he was so lonely and…deprived that his hands turned him on?

But they weren’t just ordinary hands. They were very talented, he decided. They had a grace, and a tender, delicate touch, that could bring pleasure to him, whatever they did. Whether it was play the piano or jerking off on a lonely night such as this one, they were reliable.

…which sounded completely lame, Jean decided, so he stood up from the piano and walked into his bedroom, lighting up on the way there. He took a long drag on his cigarette, and found himself staring at his hand again, and how elegantly it held the fag between his fingers. His long, slender fingers balanced the cigarette so nicely, that he couldn’t help but admire them for a minute.

“…shit,” Jean muttered. “Not again.” He put the cigarette out, a scowl on his face, and then made his way to the bathroom. “What do I have to do, start wearing gloves or something?” he asked himself as he snuck his hand back down his pants. And as his hand curled back around his half-erect member, Havoc couldn’t help thinking that, fuck, he should have never learned piano.

The End

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