Entry tags:

ed x riza, edward elric, fma, fma: alternate manga timeline, het, meme, nc-17, riza hawkeye, short shorts, smut, zanne, zanne: fma

[ed/riza; nc-17] Blurring the Edges
Title: Blurring the Edges
Author: kuchehexe
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Edward Elric/Riza Hawkeye
Prompt: FMA Kink Meme for an Ed/Riza bondage request, hosted by blacknymph.
Wordcount: 714
Genre: smut
Rating: NC-17
Teaser: That was how she wound up where she was: in one of the restrooms in the headquarters building, the smooth porcelain of the sink trapping her hands and keeping her bent over facing the mirror...
Warnings: Mild Riza-centric manga spoilers, bondage.
Author's Notes: This was originally written anonymously in response to the meme. I was also correct in guessing who requested it, hence the mangaverse reference. I'm quite proud of this short little PWP I managed to type up in an hour's time, so here it is.
Original LJ Post Date: May 17, 2007 @ blacknymph's LJ

Blurring the Edges


Despite the ten year age difference, there was no question who was in control in that relationship. Oh, Riza was certainly a switch, and tried on numerous occasions to turn the tables on Edward, but always lost the battle for dominance in the end.

That day was no exception.

It didn't help matters any either that with a clap, anything within reach could be used to restrain her, and another clap could remove anything she wore. That was how she wound up where she was: in one of the restrooms in the headquarters building, the smooth porcelain of the sink trapping her hands and keeping her bent over facing the mirror, the tile of the floor wrapping around her boots, the only thing she still wore save for her dogtags.

Even though she knew he'd sealed the door, the risk of discovery was like a constant electrical current along her nerves, heightening the awareness of every touch. Unlike Mustang, Edward had little regard for military protocol and rules, and she couldn't help but let him pull her into living dangerously for the few moments they could grab together.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, teasing her as he reached around and traced a cool automail finger around a nipple, causing it to pucker as a gasp and a shiver caught in her throat. She pushed her hips back against him and watched his expression in the mirror. That was why he didn't blindfold her. There was an added element of arousal to that, being able to watch each other, being able to see the predicament she was in. Riza didn't think she could look away even if she wanted to; the breathless upward curl to his lips and the expression in his eyes only underscored and repeated what the porcelain and tile reminded her of. Mine.

Riza Hawkeye, First Lieutenant, and one of the deadliest sharpshooters in the Amestrian Army, was bent naked over a sink, her teeth clamped down on her kiss-swollen bottom lip to keep from crying out and being discovered, and pressed her hips back into his thrust in an effort to goad him into stopping the slow teasing. It was a juxtaposition in her mind; this was her workplace, where she was Lieutenant Hawkeye, not Riza. Edward demanded everything from her -- including removing the careful lines she kept between her work self and private life.

That only served to fuel her arousal even more.

He slid his flesh hand up her back, his fingers tracing a few of the dark, inked lines here and there, to her neck, and with a soft, light touch, teased the sensitive skin there until she shuddered and roughly pushed back against him. Edward's lips and tongue were hot on her skin when his hands went around her waist, and he answered her nonverbal pleas with harder thrusts. The air felt too thin to breathe, and her knees almost buckled as a white heat built up low in her belly, demanding more -- harder, faster, more, don't stop, there, more--

Her fingers tried to flex against the smooth bonds, tried to dig in the nails, and the strain to keep from crying out as the orgasm washed over her stung her throat. Her breathing was harsh and raspy, as winded though she'd run for miles at top speed. Just when the constant stimulation felt too much to take any longer, he stopped with a final thrust, his hands gripping her waist hard enough to leave faint bruises, and quiet sounds from his lips were muffled against her back.

They remained like that for a bit longer, coming back to awareness, the dizzying hyperawareness of climax fading away. Even when he pulled back, he still didn't undo the bonds, leaving her helpless, his to take care of, to protect. His. That was one of the many reasons she'd fallen for him.

Only after her uniform was restored to its original appearance did he finally make the sink and floor release her. She'd barely straightened up before he kissed her once more, demanding and gentle all at once.

"Fix your hair," he whispered before letting her go. "Mustang's gonna start wondering what's keeping you."

- end