[FMA] moving in air, Hawkeye/Greed, NC-17
Title: moving in air Pairing: Hawkeye/Greed Rating: NC-17 Word count: ~3700
Warnings: Sex? Very mild spoilers for Ishbal; set about a year or so after the end of the war.
A/N: This was hard, dammit! Damn my need to try to make a ridiculous pairing plausible. XD Thanks to angstymcgoth for the beta; any remaining mistakes are my own.
They met at the gym.
The military had exercise and training facilities of its own, of course, but she used this one in the southern part of East City on the days when she didn't feel like running into anyone that she knew. She'd been in an odd mood for the past few weeks, restless and edgy, and she'd yet to either pinpoint the reason or shake the feeling.
The walls were brick, and gray light poured in through large windows set high off the floor; the building had probably been a factory not too long ago. Clanking weights and the murmur of conversation filled one end of the large room. The other end, where Riza stationed herself, was taken up by a boxing ring. Both professional and amateur fighters liked to practice here, and the owner was always sure to keep the sparring from getting out of hand. Six punching bags hung from hooks bolted to the walls on either side of the ring, and while there were never very many women, she'd never been harassed.
Riza noticed him as soon as he walked in one day; tall and dark-haired, his lean, muscular arms bared by a dark vest trimmed in fur. He wore sunglasses, even inside, and his attention was fixed on the boxing ring. Plenty of people came to watch the fighters practice, wanting to get an in before placing their bets, and so she'd thought nothing more of him, turning to her own workout. She stayed for an hour, not noticing if he was still there when she finished.
He was back the next time she stopped by, standing in the same spot, leaning his elbows against the raised canvas floor of the ring. He didn't speak as she walked by, just gave her a short nod which she returned before going to claim a bag and begin her warm-up.
The third time she saw him, she was in a foul mood. Everything that could have gone wrong at work that day had, and her coworkers' attempts to walk on eggshells around her just made things worse. By the time she arrived, she was eager to take it out on the gym equipment.
Riza ignored the murmurs as people walked past, concentrating instead on the bunch and release of her muscles as she worked, the shock of each blow muffled through her thick protective gloves. She felt a growl work its way up her throat and she spun, snapping a leg out to land a solid kick on the side of the bag.
Today's series of mishaps on top of her persisting odd mood left her rather more volatile than she liked. And it was becoming noticeable at work; she'd caught the Lieutenant Colonel giving her long, considering looks more than once, but so far, he'd refrained from saying anything out loud.
When she looked up, the man in the vest was watching her, his sunglasses pushed to the top of his head. She raised an eyebrow and he grinned in response, displaying very white, oddly sharp-looking teeth.
"You oughta be over here," he called, jerking a thumb behind him at the ring.
Riza shook her head. "I don't think so," she replied, using a forearm to wipe sweat from her brow.
He gave her a lazy shrug in response, letting his eyes skim her form appreciatively before turning back to watch the fighters.
Riza let the gently swaying bag thud against an outstretched hand, then let her forehead rest against the leather, the material cool on her sweaty skin.
"It's not working, is it?" A sudden voice made her raise her head. He'd left the ring and was now leaning against the wall to her left, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her.
"And what do you mean by that?"
"This." He waved a hand at the bag. "You've obviously got some aggression to work out, but I bet you don't feel any better, do you?"
She raised an eyebrow, letting an elbow bump the bag at her side. "Are you volunteering?"
"Nah," he grinned, holding his hands up. "I'm not here to fight, just to watch."
"Ah," she murmured. "No," she admitted. "It's not working at all."
"Well, maybe you should try something else. Go out, have a drink or something. You can't be on all the time, right?"
She eyed him another few moments, then relaxed. "Thank you." She pulled off a glove, extending her hand. "I'm Riza."
"Greed." He had a firm handshake, and looked her straight in the eye.
"Odd name," she remarked.
He chuckled. "Odd family." He reached up, dropping his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Anyway, you should give it a try."
"I'll think on it."
"Maybe I'll see you around."
"Perhaps," she said, her voice non-committal. He grinned as he walked away, and Riza turned back to the bag, removing her other glove. She might as well call it a day.
She wound up compromising; she had no interest in a noisy, smoky tavern, but an evening out would certainly be nice. The restaurant she chose had a very pretty courtyard, with shiny green leaves and bright flowers peeking through the scrollwork of its low iron fence. It would be warm well into the evening, and musicians often gathered in the adjoining plaza for impromptu sessions. She hoped this would be the opportunity for her to finally relax.
Riza didn't have very many civilian clothes, but the pale melon blouse and straight, cream-colored skirt she chose were comfortable and neat, suitable for an evening out. She carried a small purse, and had a pistol strapped to her right thigh; it had been less than two years since the end of the war, but she never went anywhere unarmed anymore.
The waiter led her to a table outside, in the middle of the dining area. However, she preferred to be a bit more out of the way, and requested something closer to the front fence. She took the seat facing the plaza, where she could see the people passing by.
The menu offered fairly standard Amestrian cuisine for the most part, but she eventually chose grilled lamb with seasoned rice and a side of vegetables. The spices on the lamb were unfamiliar and left a pleasant sting in her mouth; after a bit of deliberation, she decided she liked it.
The cafe grew busier as the sun sank, and about fifteen minutes into her dinner, a few of the people sitting out in the square began to pull out instruments. A tall, lovely woman with long, dark hair played fiddle, her foot tapping along beneath a flowing, brightly-colored skirt. Her companions looked related, both stocky men with wide blue eyes and high cheekbones. One played accordion, while the other strummed along on a guitar. The song itself wasn't familiar, but it was lively and bright and Riza found herself smiling for the first time that day.
She was so caught up in the music that she was surprised when the waiter returned for her plate.
"Did you enjoy your meal?" He was slender, with red hair and a cheerful smile, looking as though it were all he could do not to run out into the plaza and begin dancing along.
"It was delicious, thank you," Riza smiled.
"Can I get you anything for dessert?"
"No, I--" she stopped. "Actually, I think I'd like some coffee."
"Would you like cream or sugar with that?"
"Both...and I'd like a shot of whiskey as well."
"No problem!" he grinned. He hummed as he whisked her plates away, and she couldn't help smiling after him. Despite his apparent distraction, he brought her order back within minutes and she decided she'd have to leave him a nice tip. With sugar and cream, it was almost like dessert. It burned, sweet and smoky, all the way down to her belly.
She made herself stop after two cups; any more and she'd have trouble falling asleep tonight. The whiskey was enough to leave her feeling pleasantly floaty and mellow; if she'd been at home, she would have indulged in a nice long bath, then curled up on her couch with a book.
Over the course of the evening, she'd had to restrain herself from looking every time someone walked by on the street--it was a busy Saturday night, and she'd never relax otherwise--so she was a bit surprised when a passerby actually stopped.
"Yo," Greed said, leaning against the fence. He wore the same outfit she'd seen him in at the gym. "Nice to see you out," he grinned. "Looks like it's working this time."
Riza felt generous enough to give him a small smile in return. "It is, thank you."
"Mind if I join you?"
Riza blinked as she looked up at him. The setting sun cast a red haze over his dark hair, glinting off his sunglasses. "Well," she said slowly. "I suppose not."
Greed laughed, placing one palm on the fence and vaulting it easily. He dropped into the chair across from her, stretching his legs along the side of the table. "Ouch. You're not doing my ego any good."
"You don't seem like it needs any help," she replied.
He laughed again. "No, can't say that it does." He eyed her empty cup. "Coffee?"
"I had whiskey put in it," she admitted. She licked her lips; it really had been delicious.
"Niiice," he said, leaning back and resting an arm on the back of his chair. "Can I buy you another one?"
"I've just had two." She noticed a strange tattoo on the back of his hand, but given her own situation, she was hardly going to pry.
"C'mon, it's still early."
"Maybe later," she hedged.
"Okay, okay, I get the hint," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "So...you're a soldier, right?"
"Yes," she nodded, frowning. "How did you know that?"
"Well, some of my friends are ex-military," he said, taking off his sunglasses and setting them on the table. "I've gotten pretty good at spotting you guys, even out of uniform."
"I see," she replied. Riza picked up her water and sipped, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. "And you? Are you from here?"
"Nah, just passing through. It hasn't been too long since my friends left the military, and we're all trying to decide where to settle. This place is all right, but we'll probably head out in another week or so."
"Ah...I've heard it can be difficult right after leaving." It was a familiar story; soldiers, who until recently had made the military their entire lives, often found themselves at a loss when their service was over. Especially if they'd served during war.
Greed touched her arm, and her eyes flew up to see him watching her with a rueful look on his face. "Hey, I didn't mean to bring you down."
"It's fine," she said, shaking her head.
"Sure I can't buy you a drink?"
Riza sighed, pulling her arm back with a slight smile. "All right," she said. "I'll have an amaretto sour."
Greed signaled the waiter, who came straight over. "Amaretto sour for the lady, and a whiskey on the rocks for me."
"Yes, sir." He turned and weaved his way through the tables, heading towards the bar inside.
Their orders arrived as the sun sank below the horizon. Riza wrapped her hands around her glass as Greed sipped his drink. Her earlier edginess was returning, but it was different this time; she was enjoying the tension instead of simply feeling irritated and out of sorts.
"When's the last time you did something like this?" Greed asked, setting his drink on the table.
"I don't even remember." She let her head fall back, gazing at the stars just winking into sight in the evening sky. Her hair hung in her eyes; she'd have to get it cut.
"Job must be rough on you, huh?"
"It's...demanding," she said, looking at him once more. "But it's what I want to do."
"Guess that's the important thing." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then gave her a crooked grin. "Can I talk you into dancing with me?"
Riza raised both eyebrows. "Dancing."
"Well, it'd be a shame to let this go to waste." He waved a hand at the plaza, where the original group of three musicians had grown to close to a dozen. The music had gone from bright to slow and dreamy, the plaintive notes of the fiddle soaring above the rest of the instruments. More then a few couples had gathered, turning the square into an impromptu open-air dance hall.
"I'm not much of a dancer..." she frowned.
"You don't have to be, with this kind of music." He didn't touch her, but she could almost physically feel his eyes brushing the curve of her mouth. "What's it gonna hurt?"
"Mm," she replied, looking him straight in the eye. "No, thank you."
"Ah, my heart." He grabbed at his chest, sagging in his chair.
"Somehow, I doubt it's your heart that's bothering you."
"Oh?" He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
"I'm not stupid."
"No, you're not." His dark eyes were piercing despite his lazy air. "But I think if you minded, you'd be out of here already."
She paused deliberately before replying. "I suppose I would." She lifted her glass and took another sip. His responding smile was positively predatory and it sent a pleasant tingle down her spine.
He sat back once more, resting an elbow on the back of his chair. "I didn't tell you before, but you look good tonight."
She snorted. "Given that you've only ever seen me in exercise clothing, that isn't saying much."
"Are you kidding?" he chuckled. "The men in that gym would be all over you if they weren't so scared of the way you whale on that punching bag."
"You don't seem scared," she remarked, letting her finger glide along the edge of her glass. She took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm the flutters in her belly.
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Strong women don't scare me. They're always worth the extra effort."
"Have you been making an effort?" she asked. "I hadn't noticed."
That slow, wolfish smile curved his mouth once again. "See? Another guy would have run off with his tail between his legs by now. But something tells me you hear the normal lines all the time. You know I'm interested; you'll make up your own mind."
Riza let her eyes glide over him, lingering on his broad chest and flat belly. She never did this, never took up with a strange man. Her one previous lover had been someone she'd known and trusted to stay discreet, a fellow soldier who understood the need for release and human contact without demanding more than she'd been able to offer.
She had no illusions about what this would be.
And if she was honest with herself, she was curious about the strength in his big hands, and the sly humor in his dark eyes. Something about him appealed to the recklessness inside her that she rarely indulged.
Riza picked up her drink, drained it, then twisted in her chair, signaling her waiter for the check.
There was indulgence, Riza mused--and then there was utter hedonism. She leaned her head back, winding her fingers into Greed's hair as he knelt before her. Her skirt and panties lay crumpled beneath her feet as she sat on the edge of the bed, but she hadn't yet removed anything else--not even the holster on her thigh.
Riza let out a shuddering sigh as he buried his head between her legs. She tried to control herself, but her hips soon began to make small, jerking movements against his face. He grunted as she planted her feet on his thighs and arched up, then laughed, a hot puff of air before he began to work her clit with his tongue.
Soon even sitting up became too much and she flopped backwards on the bed, eyes darting around the small room. She'd emphatically refused to bring him back to her apartment, so they'd settled on a small, clean hotel a few blocks away from the cafe. Enough moonlight came in through the window for her to make out the features of the plain room; light walls, a small desk, and a bed. Nothing special, but the linens were clean and it had its own attached bathroom--as she'd insisted.
Greed slid a finger inside her, and she bit back a moan.
"Come on, now," he chided, adding another finger. "I'm doing all this work; don't I at least get to hear you?"
Riza lifted her head. His lazy air was gone, replaced by something far more intense. She felt herself tighten around his fingers as she met his eyes. "If I can hold back...perhaps you're not doing as much work as you thought."
Greed groaned and moved up her body to kiss her, planting his free hand next to her hip for balance. His tongue thrust into her mouth forcefully, stealing what little breath she had left at the movement of his fingers. "Oh, man," he murmured against her lips. "I gotta take you with me when I leave."
"Not...a chance," she panted, running her hands over his back. She moaned into his mouth, unable to even kiss him back as his hand moved faster. His fingers were long and clever, knowing exactly where to stroke and how much pressure to use and he was--oh...oh..., he was...
Part of Riza was vaguely appalled at the high, helpless noises she made as she came; the rest simply wondered if her brains could actually leak from her ears the way they were currently threatening to. As she regained her breath, Greed was still leaning over her, eyes seeming to devour every sign of arousal that crossed her face.
"Ah," he muttered. "You gorgeous thing." He reached up and unbuttoned her shirt, unhooking the front closure to her bra.
Riza inhaled, digging her fingers into his back as he took a nipple in his mouth. "Oh," she murmured. "Oh..." Her few previous fumbling encounters had never left her feeling like this.
He raised his head, pressing a kiss below her jaw. "Yeah, like that," he crooned. "Let me hear it, beautiful." He scraped his teeth against her throat and she shuddered. God, she never realized how sensitive she was there; she was learning all kinds of things about herself this evening.
Riza pulled back and twisted to reach the condoms she'd set on top of the nightstand. She reached down to free him from his pants, and he started to push her shirt off her shoulders.
"No," she told him. "Never mind that." She unsnapped her holster and set it carefully on the nightstand.
He shrugged and took the condom from her, unrolling it over his length with quick, practiced movements.
Greed groaned as he entered her, a few careful strokes before she was able to take all of him. There was none of the discomfort she'd been fearing; he was hot and full inside her as he ran one big hand ran up her belly to her breast.
The flare of heat in his eyes jolted her, and she tightened her legs around his waist. His thrusts were short and powerful, and she wasn't going to last, which was fine because it felt so good she couldn't do much but lay there and moan anyway.
He bent to kiss her, but she pulled his face to her neck instead. That mouth of his was really very talented. God, he knew what he was doing. It wasn't long at all before she felt her stomach and thighs begin to quiver.
"Oh...oh, oh, oh--" Riza threw her head back and gasped at the ceiling as her whole body clenched.
Greed came a moment later, growling, his breath hot against her throat and his hair tickling her jaw.
Her long, shuddering gasps eventually slowed; he didn't speak, giving her an occasional nibble or lick as she recovered. She sighed, smiling to herself; for the first time in longer than she cared to admit, the tension she'd been carrying in every muscle was completely gone.
"You didn't even let me take off my pants," he said, sounding amused even though his voice was muffled into her shoulder. "I think I'm in love."
Riza snorted. "Like I'd believe that." She inhaled as he withdrew, still hard enough to make her sensitive flesh quiver. His leather pants pulled at her skin for a moment, stuck to her thighs with sweat.
He pushed up on his elbows, studying her face. "Too bad you're set on staying here."
"You'll get over it."
Greed sighed. "That's what I get for going after the strong ones."
She closed her eyes, tilting her head back as he gave her a gentle bite on the side of her neck. "And yet you keep doing it."
"What can I say?" he purred against her ear. "Gorgeous, dangerous women do it for me every time."
"Every time?" Riza pushed at his shoulder, and he obligingly rolled over onto his back.
"Oh, yeah," he grinned, reaching up to palm one of her breasts as she straddled him. "It’s a weakness."
"Is this the last of it, Hawkeye?" The Lieutenant Colonel eyed the latest pile of paperwork Hawkeye set on his desk.
"Yes, sir," she replied. "I've arranged them in the order by which they must be completed."
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Mustang paused. "I hope you had a good weekend."
Riza blinked. "Ah, I did, sir. Thank you."
"Good," he said. His dark eyes flicked up to hers as he skimmed the form in front of him. "I'm glad to hear it."
Riza gave him a small smile; this was as close as he'd allow himself to get to expressing worry. "Thank you," she repeated. "It was very relaxing."