Benchmade Knives In Buffalo, Ny

Just Breathe - Roy / Dr. Knox 6 / 7

Title: Footprints dressed in red
By: rizafk
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Torque: Roy Mustang / Dr. Knox (POV: Dr. Knox)
Rating: R
Prompt: Footprints dressed in red
Disclaimer: Although I have tried to bribe Hiromu Arakawa with a juicy offer yaoi fan fiction, it still has not sold me the rights to Hagrites, aka Fullmetal Alchemist. Time to take the firearms and this disclaimer could change.

Happy reading!

6 . Footprints dressed in red

(footprints dressed in red)

D just in my room, a cigarette between me and the other always put to bed to leaf through the latest research data without paying attention: in case some were not able to sigh in the morning to wait for assistance, it was better to be awake.

Then, if the night turned out to be quiet, collapsed.

Heaven does not even begin to turn gray dawn of the mattress when the tremor made me jump for the first time.

"Excuse me!" Said a voice in the impenetrable darkness.

"Imagine ..." unconsciously mumbled back. It was the best I could extract a misty thoughts of sleep.

"No," sighed the voice, and a breath hot and sour I hit my face. "I have no words to really apologize."

feel relieved to blow the covers off, and a hot body pressed against mine, crushing them. Wide-open eyes in the gloom, I saw his pale face staring at me anxiously.

I remained silent, while the desert wind blew his whistle with exaggeration.

that was enough.

After he clawed his back with trembling hands, he bent over me to tread on the rough lips and throwing him all the dust that had settled on the street. Enough to take my son to make us a castle.

He squeezed his eyes, keeping them closed all the time, while I watched the scene from outside, not in disgust, but rather curious in a clinic.

When I went on, pressing the erection against the thigh, I put a hand dripping with blood and slime who knows what kind of dirty mud under his shirt, at heart, and remained there to listen to the beat.

He ignored my face in disgust.

He apologized.

again and again.

Even as I clung around.

forever, stubbornly behind eyelids tightened.

When leave to swallow the memory of the evening along with a few glasses of the stuff strong enough to compete with gasoline, vehicles, he looked surprised and terrified of waking a sleepwalker who finds himself in a strange place.

He tried to escape, but I grabbed his wrist and torsos him firmly, fixing his stern face contorted with pain.

"Clean." And he growled, pulling out his tongue without hesitation, he leaned over me until my skin did not remain a trace of anything.

Perhaps only a few sketches red dirt.

went out in silence.

that time, and then the other.

the door, I looked furious, but it was a matter of time and in any case I did not care.

I lit a cigarette and stared at the ceiling.

That would give all the blame on myself if he did get better.

When I was suitable for first time the Alchemist of Fire, a distraught-looking young man who sat apart and bent shoulders as if the weight of the war we had everything on his shoulders, I thought that that would be a rather unfriendly.

One point in its favor.

I would sciorinare its moral dilemmas, or the propaganda war, as the people he did not survive for long: he was standing in a corner at my disposal, with folded arms and tight lips tremors horrified to hide, and brooding: he would not moved a muscle except gliel'avessi ordered.

Killing, could do so.

was what I asked him to destroy it.

The was easier if you obey debased to the end.

And I only wanted someone beside him to do his work without giving me trouble.

Leaving me alone wearing only a faded red.

Footprints dressed in red - End