[ed/riza; nc-17] To Turn the Tables Title: To Turn the Tables Author: emilie_burns Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Pairing: Edward Elric/Riza Hawkeye Prompt: #3, Warm Glow (16Candles_Fics) Word Count: 1506 Genre: Shameless smut, aka PWP Rating: NC-17 Summary: Never mind the fact that Edward was younger than she was, and less experienced in the world of romantic entanglements and sex, the single-minded control and attention he put into everything else in his life was not excluded from the bedroom. Warnings: Smut. Porn. Hot boy-on-girl bump'n'grind. No nudity though. :D Author's Notes: I could expand on this. I don't want to. I refuse. The plotbunny promised a short little smutfic - but the bunnies promise me that a lot. The bunnies LIE. So I'm ignoring any potential for plot before this explodes into a 12k+ fic of angsty plot and backstory. It promised me PWP, and by god, for once it'll deliver. D:< Chanson du Jour: Fuel : Falls On Me (5.82MB, mp3) [yousendit | megaupload] Original LJ Post Date: December 21, 2006 @ Chaotic_Library
To Turn the Tables
He always had the upper hand.
Never mind the fact that Edward was younger than she was, and less experienced in the world of romantic entanglements and sex, the single-minded control and attention he put into everything else in his life was not excluded from the bedroom. Most days, it didn't matter to Riza; if he felt more comfortable with the control, she had no real objections one way or another.
And the end results were always surprisingly worth it.
But once in a while, she wanted to be the one in the lead, the one calling the shots, the one to turn the tables so she could make him writhe and pant on the bed that more and more often over the last couple of years held two instead of the one it had for so long. The more she tried, and the more her attempts at getting the upper hand were thwarted, his years of combat skill coming into easy play, the more determined she became.
An opportunity was gracious enough to present itself as they stood beside her bed, and past the dizzy haze of his lips and tongue at her neck, following her racing pulse and wandering to that sensitive spot just below her ear, she realized his back was to the bed.
Once upon a time, it wouldn't work. He would have had the leverage advantage. But in the years following his brother's restoration, he gained some of the height that had been denied him while his body served as a support and anchor to Alphonse's, still in the Gate. He was almost to her height, making things a bit more equal, and if she could get his greater body weight off-center to work with her...
Teasing and slow, she rubbed her leg against his flesh one, avoiding any sudden or deliberately blatant moves that might alert him, until her leg was carefully locked around his. It was difficult, maintaining a high enough level of attention on what she was doing as his teeth gently pressed against her neck, and she shivered at the feel of his tongue teasing the captured skin. In another effort to keep the playing field more level with her tangled nerves and the quivering that wouldn't stop, she dragged her fingertips up his back, tracing his spine, and felt him tense, a rush of cool air against her skin at his sudden intake of breath.
At that, she moved her leg as firm and hard as she could manage, trying to pull his foot out from under him as she shifted her weight forward, sending them crashing to the bed. Success!
Riza quickly moved to straddle his thighs, supporting herself with her hands at either side of his head, and grinned coyly. "Hi."
Edward yelped in surprise when they went down and blinked for a few moments as his dazed awareness caught up with the sudden change. Then he raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one that made a wave of shivers uncoil from the base of her spine, and she knew the battle was far from won. "Well." She felt his hand traveling up along her back, and suddenly grip her hair. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked even as he lifted his head and licked her neck.
Riza shuddered as her nerves caught fire and uncoiled, like melting caramel, and pressed her hips against his in response, drawing a soft gasp from his lips. "Taking over today," she whispered. "You're mine."
There was a slight tension to his body, a subtle shift of weight that served as a warning that came far too late for her to try and compensate for it before his arms locked around her and together, they rolled toward the headboard, coming to a stop in reversed positions. "Really, now?"
"Goddamnit."
His smirk deepened. "Keep trying all you want, Riza. I rather like a challenge, even if it's not much of one."
"Oh, now you're just asking for it," she growled, and pressed up against him as she slid her hands against his back. "You still haven't won yet."
His arms, still under her back, tightened around her as he buried his face against her neck, a shudder rippling down his spine from his shoulders to his hips, and he matched her movement, and she could feel his erection through the black slacks he'd taken to wearing once his hard-pressed traveling days were done over the leather pants of his youth. The seam of her worn, faded denims she wore aided in pressure and friction, and a fresh wave of white-hot melting fire unfurled as sharp as a whip from some low point. He bit her neck then nibbled her earlobe as he began to move against her, and it wasn't enough.
Riza whimpered, wanting -- needing -- more, harder, faster, wanting to feel him inside of her, touching her, reaching the source of that terrible, wonderful bone-melting, trembling heat that was taking over, threatening to consume her. It felt incredibly unexpected and deliciously wanton, fully clothed on her bed, both of them panting and grinding against each other like a couple of hormonal teenagers, something not even he was anymore.
He pulled his hands free and caught her arms, bringing a halt to her teasing strokes against his back and pinned her hands to the bed with his own. The shudder that elicited from her arched her back and pressed her more firmly against the seam, against his zipper, against the swell of his erection through his pants and it was never enough. A point of release was visible, but not within reach, almost there but never quite enough to pass that point into a shattering nothingness. He stared down at her, his ponytail tumbling over his shoulder to brush against her cheek, and the movement of his hips was controlled, firm, deliberate thrusts that were in stark contrast to her more reflexive, desperate grinding.
Too much control; he always was able to get the upper hand, to distract himself from his own hormones by watching and controlling her reactions. She couldn't even use her hands to tease him, to work them under his shirt, to trace little patterns up along his spine that she knew from experience shorted out all clear thought. Riza tried to slow down, to regain a balance that would let her stand a possible chance There was too much heat, too much need, and she was willing to back down, to let him have that victory of control yet again, anything, whatever she needed, just to feel him inside of her. She tried to will their clothes away, or at least whatever separated them. But to stop, to move away, that would take too much time.
"Edward," she gasped, the air thick in her lungs as her nerves continued to find that heat that kept tangling them into a crackling mass more interesting than being able to breathe, "Trans-- alchemy. Our clothes, can you?" That was all the coherency she could muster, and she whined, bucking her hips against him as she saw his lips curve into a smirk, and felt his grip on her hands tighten. The automail hand skirted dangerously close to being painful.
"Where would the fun in that be?" he replied, kissing her, whispering against her lips. "I rather like you like this."
The curse that she breathed tangled up with a needy whimper, and all ability to breathe temporarily left as he turned his head and left a trail of kisses, licks, and nibbles along her racing pulse on her neck, and without warning, everything that had never been enough before became sufficient, a catalyst for a white, liquid heat like molten metal exploding and shattering along her nerves and radiating outward from low in her hips, liquefying her bones. Then it was gone, like flashfire, searing and sudden, passing as quickly as it arrived.
When she went still, relaxing against the bed, he kissed her ear gently. "Now we can get undressed," he whispered, and she swore softly again, an epithet that made him chuckle, a low and husky sound. "That's the general plan."
In response, she kicked his leg with the side of her foot, remembering a split second too late that was automail, and repeated the maneuver with the other foot, and a second time for good measure as he started to laugh. "Brat," she muttered.
"Mmhmm." He nibbled her neck as he released her hands and slid his own down to her chest to rake his thumbs against her shirt, against her nipples underneath, making her shiver. Even as she reached for him, to try and tease him into his own nerve-tangled state, he was pulling away out of reach. "Uh-uh. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll have a few more opportunities to try before we're done."
Yes, he always had the upper hand. Someday, she vowed, she would get the better of him.