Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye (flame_queen) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-09-09 03:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | fullmetal alchemist: canon: riza hawkeye, fullmetal alchemist: canon: roy mustang |
Part 2
Who: Roy Mustang & Riza Hawkeye
What: Riza went on a date with York and Roy isn’t happy.
When: Late evening/Early Morning (Backdated, 2 Days ago)
Where: The Barracks
Rating: PG-13
Status: Log - Complete
*** Maybe it was unfair of both of them, maybe it was cruel to play with one another like that. Who knew? Roy certainly had no idea what he was doing, that much was evident by his fumbling, stupid advances that made him more of an asshole than it did anything else. He wasn’t good at this. Not when he meant it. He could charm any woman in the world, and a whole hell of a lot of men when he was motivated. But when it came to doing things with the people he was most invested in? He turned into a blazing idiot. But his feelings, at least, were genuine. Did Maes have these problems with Gracia? Roy hoped so. He hoped his friend made an idiot out of himself every chance he got. More than he usually did. But in the present, Mustang changed into civilian clothing, the set he owned that wasn’t specifically meant for when he frequented the henhouses. He still looked dapper as ever, dressed in neutral tones, his messy hair all over the place, and looking casual with his hands in his pockets. Always so that he was near those stupid white gloves. “I meant to ask,” he said as the pair stepped out into the general noise of Knowhere, “How’s your arm?” *** Those stupid white gloves. The stupid white gloves that she was extending her hand for. They were going to buy a cot, not fight a homunculi. The Lieutenant would be holding onto them for now, to ensure that the Colonel didn’t do anything ridiculous. When he didn’t give them up immediately, she lifted her brows. They were going nowhere until the gloves were in her hand. And once they were? Well, off they went. Easy, right? “It’s fine, sir.” Everything was always fine, that was how soldiers were. Unless they were soldiers seeking attention from beautiful nurses. Roy was decidedly not a beautiful nurse. “I inquired after Agent York this morning and his hand is doing well.” She imagined he might want to know. “And I had plans to stop by their apartment today, after work.” So now both she and the Colonel would be doing so. Together. As they moved through the streets, Riza wasn’t surprised that several women took second (and third) glances at the man beside her. Of course they did. He looked amazing. And she was a rock, not so much as glancing their direction. It wasn’t like it was any of her business what the Colonel did on his off time. Perhaps if he slept with more of them, he’d stop chasing after her. And then she could stop thinking about him. It sounded like a good plan. *** Roy kept his hands in his pockets regardless of the fact he was divested of his gloves, it gave him a strangely appealing look. So casual and suave women must get wet at the sight of him. At least, that was the idea they suggested just by the way some of them looked at him in passing. He was just glad none of them were anyone he’d slept with. He didn’t feel like dealing with a threatened woman who felt immediately suspicious of Hawkeye and wanted to inquire about who she was through thinly veiled conversation with him. Roy made a noise, acknowledging Hawkeye’s words, “Good, I wanted to check on Edward’s progress anyway.” He’d given him the alchemy project; if Roy knew Ed, he was furiously working away while leaving his brother behind, Al who would diligently be making sure Edward stopped long enough to eat, drink, and sleep. Roy frowned though, looking at Hawkeye. “If he works the formula the same way I did, he’s going to be looking for the elements you were.” And she’d just been assaulted in her pursuit of them. Crap. *** That had her fixing him with a sudden, sharp look. “You need to tell him to leave it alone. He can have the things I collected and if he needs anything else.. We’ll figure something out.” Maybe they could all get one at a time, to make sure no one thought anything of it. Whatever they did, they needed to do it as a group, she wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to those boys. Whoever it was, there wouldn’t just be five of them next time. They’d learned their lesson. Brown eyes turned forward again, though, and she would soon turn them into one of those shops that had anything and everything. “Do you need anything else while we’re here, sir?” Now was the time. And Riza didn’t even say anything about that red-head who was eyeing Roy from behind the counter. What was it with women? Didn’t they have any self-respect? Okay, now she was leaning forward over her folded arms, putting her breasts on full display as she smiled at them and welcomed them into the shop. Riza wanted to punch her. “Can I help you find anything, handsome?” She inquired with a wink. Clearly, she had no idea what subtle meant. “I’ll go find a cot.” Hawkeye told her superior, moving past him so that he could go get the woman’s number. *** What was Hawkeye angry about now? Roy watched her stalk away with that strange expression on her face, confused about what was happening, but his attention diverted back to the woman at the counter. Like a moth to flame, Mustang stepped in after the redhead and started a playful conversation with her. Little did anyone know, well Hawkeye probably knew by now, but Roy had his fill of redheads in the exasperating shape of a certain crime lord. Granted, they weren’t a steady thing--Roy never was, with anyone, and he never would be with that particular individual--but he saw him often enough that redheads lost their appeal. It didn’t stop him from flirting with this one. Or from taking her number. By the time Hawkeye came back, Roy was also leaning against the counter, braced on one arm, his eyes glittering with that look and the woman! She looked ready to jump his bones right there behind the counter. Then the woman did something Roy would never understand; she became defensive at the sight of Hawkeye, like she had laid claim to Roy and who was this woman he was so friendly with? “All done?” Because Roy hadn’t done a lick of shopping; he’d stood there and he’d flirted the entire time. Of course he did. He was a damned womanizing playboy; he had a reputation to uphold. *** Well he was doing a very good job of being a womanizing playboy. The Lieutenant was absolutely livid as she searched through the back of the store for some sort of cot. She was actually surprised to find one, but the surprise was immediately out-weighed by her intense and immediate hatred of Roy Mustang, who was such an asshole that-- the blonde woman let a breath out through her nose. Riza picked up the box and headed back to the front of the store. She half expected to find the red-head bent over the counter and Roy behind her. “Yes, sir.” Came her curt response as the box was set up for the woman to ring up. As it was rung, the girl continued to flirt, she talked about the fact she loved to buy her lingerie from the store near Starlin’s, and how she’d just gotten something new and flirty. She pretended like Riza wasn’t there. And Riza was fine with it. That was, until it was the shorter woman who took out the credits to pay and passed them over. Only then did the younger woman (and she was definitely younger than Hawkeye) seem to take notice of her and her smile faded away. The blonde didn’t look pleased. Red-head took it as a territorial thing (it was) and a cutting smile crossed her lips. “You should check it out, blondie, they’re having a sale and they might have something that would convince a guy to take you home, even though it looks like your face might crack if you smiled.” The fact that she said it in a perky, happy tone (and with that smile) made it sound so much nicer than it was. “You have a great day.” A wiggle of her fingers before she made a ‘call me’ motion at Mustang. Hawkeye was turning abruptly with her cot, so she wouldn’t shoot the girl between the eyes, and out she went. *** What the hell was that about? Roy’s eyes slid between the women but he, wisely, remained silent for the exchange. Then Hawkeye was turning away and Roy winked at the redhead, “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said and turned to follow after his Lieutenant. “What do you say, Hawkeye?” Roy asked, once they were outside and heading back toward the apartments to deliver their goods; they couldn’t very well defend themselves or do anything worth doing while hauling a cot around Knowhere. “Wanna go to the shop? See what’s on sale? We did just free up some of those precious credits we’re short on.” His shit eating grin spread across his stupid face. Roy was an idiot. *** Roy was an idiot. Hawkeye sent him a sharp look, but after a few seconds at just staring at that grin, she looked forward again. “Fine.” If he wanted to go to the stupid shop, they could go to the stupid shop. He could buy.. Whatever ridiculous little lingerie set he wanted to see that red-headed bitch in. Hell, he could buy the whole store if it was cheap enough and hand sexy little panties out to all the women in Knowhere so that when he inevitably fucked them, they’d look cute. She hated herself so much right then. Almost as much as she hated him. Thankfully, the walk back wasn’t long. The box was dropped off without ceremony and the two were on their way back into the depths of Knowhere once again. To buy sexy underwear. For.. The blonde let out a slow breath. It wasn’t the women’s fault. It didn’t matter, anyway. The walk would be in silence, unless the idiot opened his big mouth again. *** Huh, Hawkeye actually agreed. No snippy comments, just that deathly glare that Roy was mostly immune to. He didn’t get nervous until her fingers twitched, usually. Their walk was uneventful, except for the fact Roy seemed to come alive. Apparently the idea of shopping around for sexy underthings was enough of a reason for the man to perk up. Irritating, wasn’t it? But he looked a little giddy. Did she know how well he did when shopping for women? Did she know why he was suddenly eyeballing her, there under her uniform? He was really good at guessing sizes and for a man who paid no damned attention to anything else in Riza Hawkeye’s life, he could probably get really close to her actual size. In everything. Growing up in a brothel had its perks. The ladies had been more than happy to entertain him and more than happy to teach him their tricks and a trick or two of his own. When the pair found the shop in question, that stupid, playful look that said something awful was about to happen glimmered in Roy’s dark eyes. Hawkeye had agreed to the wrong event if she thought she’d escape this mess. Roy grinned as they stepped inside. What colors went well with blondes? No shame, no hesitation, Mustang looked back at Hawkeye and then he dove right in. If he wasn’t careful, maybe they’d come home with a pair of handcuffs. *** Hawkeye was entirely fine with this little venture, happy to stand at the front like a man while his wife went shoe shopping. Roy, after all, had seen what she’d picked when she had no underthings of her own. The most boring thing in the entire shop. They hadn’t had anything nude colored, so she’d ended up with white lace (the black lace had been far too racy for her tastes). No. Riza Hawkeye had no fun underwear. And she would have been happy (happy wasn’t the right word.. Maybe.. Less homicidal?) to continue with this silly outing. But Roy had questioned the sexy-dressed (why did the women in this store insist on wearing the lingerie they sold?) alien lady (she had a long tongue like a snake and slitted pupils, and she was eyeing Roy excitedly) about blondes and that had brown eyes snapping immediately to her superior. “You don’t date blondes, sir--” Insisted as he looked back at her and gave her that smile. What was he doing? “Sir?” Dear Lord. *** No, he didn’t date blondes. The only blonde he’d ever wanted was standing in front of him with a murderous look in her Killer’s eyes. Roy’s grin widened and the shop worker was coming around to show them what could satisfy their needs. She asked Hawkeye about her preferences. That had Roy laughing like a child, his fit of giggles deteriorating into a quiet snicker as they went. He had manic highs. He had a crazy unpredictability. He was really good at shopping for women. “Pink,” he said. “Pale. Pastels.” The white had been nice to look at, but it washed her out more than it helped. A bit of color on her skin though? That was exactly what she could use. He was enjoying himself way too much. What had you just gotten yourself into, Riza? Your superior officer was a maniac. *** Yes. Yes he was. “Just neutral colored things--” She insisted at the same time as Roy, causing her to give him a sharp look. “Please tell me you’ve figured out what sport bras are.” That was asked to the woman, though she was still staring at her superior. “Corset?” The woman asked with a smile, holding up a pink one with lace along the top and bottom. “It comes with panties.” A little, lacy pink thong. Riza paled. “No.” Not a chance. “Sir, unless you’re buying something for yourself to enjoy,” on another woman, “Or for yourself to wear--” “We do have a selection of men’s underthingsss..” The S was hissed out on her serpent’s tongue as she roamed her eyes over Mustang’s body. Hawkeye let out a slow breath through her nose. “Please hurry up, Colonel.” Resigned to the fact he was going to use this to tease her, the blonde finally gave up. Hopefully he wouldn’t waste their money on things for her, hopefully he would at least choose things he’d get to enjoy on one of the many other women he slept with. *** Well, if she was going to stand there looking resigned, all the more reason to use her as a model. Hawkeye gave up, and Roy took that as a cue to take several items from their display, then promptly held them up against her body, tilting his head this way, then that, before he discarded them. One at a time, he and the serpent tongued alien eyeballing him like her next meal, deliberated and conspired, determined to find something that would work for a blonde with murder in her eyes. She did, after all, invite him to buy something he’d enjoy. And he did enjoy two items in particular. One, yes, a pink set of panties and a lacy bra and the other a yellow set darker than her hair. “I don’t think these will look as good on me as they will you, Hawkeye,” he said, even as he held a bra against his chest and looked down at himself. Maybe he’d send a pair of panties to Gambit. “What do you think?” *** What color went well with murder? If looks could kill... But she did at least just stand there and allow the two of them their apparent fun. She hoped Roy enjoyed it. It’d be the last thing he ever did. But.. well.. He did look happy, and if nothing else came of this stupid shopping trip (even if she had to be humiliated for it), at least he was smiling. And it looked genuine, for once. She hoped it was. “I think you’re missing a wonderful opportunity to look very pretty in a strapless dress next time you go out, sir.” Well, at least she wasn’t so angry she wouldn’t push back when he gave her trouble. “Here, you need thessse too.” The woman stepped aside to tug something off of a rack and offer them out to Mustang. They looked normal enough. Boxer briefs. Only they were made of lace. Blue lace that matched the blonde’s uniform. Riza wanted to hit her head on the wall. “Can we go now, Colonel?” He’d had his fun, it was time to put it all back and go, they’d been at it for over half an hour. *** “You want a strapless dress, for the next time we go out?” That was how he read that message or maybe he was teasing. It was hard to tell with men sometimes. But he grinned his shit eating grin and then accepted the boxers from the slithering snake of a saleswoman. Perfect. He’d deliver these later. If for no other reason than that it was funny. “We’ll take them,” he said curtly, and then passed the lot back to the serpentine other, his dark eyes darting back to his subordinate. Roy winked at her. Maybe he was trying to make her shoot him. “Any last requests?” He asked, and if not, he used the few credits he had on himself to pay for his lingerie. *** Any last requests? “Only that you say your prayers tonight.” Oh, she was feeling sassy, wasn’t she? Well, that happened when you were pawed at for half an hour by your superior and a snake lady. But she stood by silently while he bought the items, was given that pretty pink bag, and turned to indicate he was ready to go. She was not carrying that for him, he could carry it himself if he wanted the items so badly. The Lieutenant, however, did hold the door for him when he exited, then followed after, those murderous brown eyes doing their best to stare anywhere but at him. He couldn’t possibly think that she was going to wear those-- scratch that. She didn’t actually think they were for her. They weren’t. Were they? Sure, they’d accidentally had sex once (yes, it was an accident, what of it?) and she’d screwed up and kissed him this morning (he was only human, she still made mistakes), but he couldn’t think that buying lingerie for his subordinate was okay in any way. Right? “We need food.” That way when York came by later, he wouldn’t feel obligated to buy food for the man-- she was well aware of how strapped for cash those three were going to be. Ed only went to work when he felt like it and Alphonse certainly didn’t have a job (and likely never would-- really, what would the boy do?), and now they were living in a three-bedroom apartment, which was more expensive than what Mustang had, so she knew it wasn’t cheap. And he was buying all of that food for the three of them. She’d witnessed Al eat (and was suddenly glad their Alphonse didn’t eat) and knew how much York ate-- she also knew York was constantly buying food for Harry, and the Colonel. If she could take a bit of that burden from him, she would. *** “Hm, that kind of night, is it?” He asked, clearly amused. She was pissed enough to make a point that Roy should suddenly develop a belief in God. He didn’t, as a rule, have faith in such things, given he was a man of science. But, back out on the streets of Knowhere, Roy did in fact carry his pretty pink bag as if it were a hot item. He didn’t mind in the least. He was a man without shame and there was nothing wrong with holding a bag full of lacy items fit for a pretty lady. Somehow, if anything, it seemed to garner more attention (not that much, given most people didn’t care). But for those that did notice? Some women were offended men thought their girlfriends or wives had to dress up to please their men. Roy ignored it all, the cat’s contented grin set firmly in place. “Whatever you want,” he said mildly, “You’re in charge today,” he reminded her. She’d agreed to the shop, it wasn’t his fault she hadn’t put her foot down and said no. *** Whatever she wanted? She was in charge. She was in charge everyday and they both knew it, unless he vetoed her choices or was just being an asshole. Today, he was just saying it aloud. And it made her take a glance at him, considering.. Then her eyebrows lifted a touch. “Doesn’t the person in charge get to walk in front, sir?” It was only a tease-- why was she in such a good mood was he was being such a douche? She hated this feeling. Why couldn’t she just put an end to this? Why did she have to keep making it worse? Tonight, she resolved, tonight she would tell him they couldn’t do it anymore. From here on out, they were just friends, and officers. She could have today, right? As long as she didn’t shoot him in the face. *** Roy paused when she teased him, his brow quirking a bit. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of chalk--thanks, Dresden, your habits were rubbing off--then setting aside the dainty little bag, Mustang crouched down right there in the street and sketched out an array, his dark eyes bright. Using alchemy for fun was really quite amusing! He should do this more often, because he didn’t at home. He didn’t do a lot of things just because. Snickering to himself like a boy on a playground, he fished out two credits and dropped them into the center. It wouldn’t be exact, or quite accurate in color because the base metals wouldn’t turn to gold, but it would work well enough. Setting his hands to the array, Mustang called the energy to his touch and a bright light showed. The two credits morphed their shape, molding into a stupid set of yellow colored stars. Satisfied, the Colonel stood up and then stepped in closer to Hawkeye and lightly set one on her shoulder, and then the other. “There, now you have a promotion.” He snickered, and gestured her onward, to lead the way. She could be in front. *** What the heck was he doing? On the street. In the middle of the street. Was he really going to do Alchemy here? In fact, his strange little display had a few people stopping and watching. When the coins were turned to stars? He actually got some applause before those people moved on. Brown eyes remained locked to him though, watching as he pinned stars to her shoulders. ...He was so stupid. So why did she want to kiss him again? Thankfully, she didn’t. Instead, she turned to begin walking once more. It wasn’t until they were halfway to the market that she saw a man walking behind another woman, heading towards them. And the way he was staring at her rear. Then it dawned on her and she glanced back behind her at the Colonel. Had he agreed to this so he could watch her walk? No. Not in the uniform. There was nothing to see. Stop being so critical, Hawkeye. Sometimes Mustang was just a good guy. Stupid Mustang. “Do you have anything particular in mind, sir?” She finally spoke up as they came into the food section of the market. If she was going to cook for him, he may as well enjoy it. She knew what he liked, of course, but perhaps he had a taste for something here in space.. The food was a little off, after all. *** He didn’t forget to smudge the array and pick up his bag, falling into step behind Hawkeye, his hands in his pockets again, his glowing eyes amused as they walked. “I’m not in uniform today, Captain Hawkeye, stop calling me ‘sir,’” He chided lightly. That wasn’t how the military worked, but he could play pretend for a while, divest himself of authority and concern. He didn’t usually bother about the mundane things anyway, but now he wasn’t bothering about anything. It was the first time in a long while that he genuinely stopped worrying and simply took a day to do whatever. When was the last time he’d done that? And look how happy he was doing it. He wasn’t that shivering, weeping mess from the night before. Oh, the many faces of Roy Mustang. But was this one real? But, food and the marketplace, Roy gravitated immediately to the apples. Alphonse had one when Roy met him the other day and it looked appetizing enough. Given the freedom and the peace, Mustang bothered choosing things he’d actually eat. Sort of. He never ate a lot, no matter what. Well, he was feeling a little manic today though, wasn’t he? It made shopping easier---he was agreeing to everything with good cheer. *** Sometimes Riza wasn’t sure what was real with her Colonel. And that bothered her. Sometimes Riza wasn’t sure that Roy knew what was real or not. That bothered her even more. So when the dark-haired man headed for those apples? Hawkeye was pleased to follow along, watching his face as he picked through them, chose the ripe, juicy ones, and placed them neatly into a bag (which she paid for and took from him once he was done). If he moved from stall to stall, she would be happy to follow, and he if fell back, she’d be just as happy to lead him to other places that looked like they might have food he would want. He looked happy. The Lieutenant would have done anything to keep that look on his face. But they could only shop for food so long before they had enough and it eventually became boring for the easily-amused (and easily distracted) Roy Mustang. Riza had needed to put up with women (and even a man or two) eyeing the Colonel through the market, which was something she was entirely used to. It was only at the last booth that she would be purchasing a few cuts of meat that the man would hand them over, then give her a smooth smile and lean in a little. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.” He told her quietly, sincerely. It caught her off guard and she brought brown eyes up. “Let me take you to dinner.” Bold. Confident. Without shame. It was the sort of man you needed to be if you expected to speak a single word to the sniper. This man had it in spades. “Excuse me?” There was no way she’d heard him correctly. *** Roy Mustang would ruin it. He always ruined everything for Hawkeye, including the array on her back and the precious flesh therein. For once, someone had taken a genuine interest in her, but Mustang was standing too near and was utterly incapable of letting her have the moment. His dark eyes switched from the cuts of meat to the face of her suitor, and narrowed. “That the best you can do?” he asked, plain and loud, confrontational. Mocking, even, and full of disdain. “Most women don’t like to be called creatures.” Though he’d never deny Hawkeye was beautiful. “You can do better,” He said to Hawkeye, a faint smirk curling his lips. Happy mood over? Hawkeye had his gloves, what did Roy think was going to happen? Who knew. *** The man seemed a little surprised and looked over at Roy, then at the blonde again. The dark man hadn’t staked his claim, though, so it was clear to the vendor that this was just some jealous guy who couldn’t get the girl and a slow smile curled his lips. “My deepest apologies.” Oh, now he was laying it on thick, reaching out to take her hand and bring it forward to kiss her knuckles, causing the blonde woman to look a little uncomfortable, but she allowed it to happen. When he was done, she slowly drew her hand back. “Thank you, but no.” A simple, polite decline. “I’m sorry to hear that.. But you should know, the very best part of my day has been seeing your perfect face, and hearing your beautiful voice, even if it was only to turn me down. You’re going to make some lucky man very happy one day, miss.” The man kept his eyes locked to hers, completely ignoring Mustang there. “..Thank you very much.” She didn’t know what to say to that, but the fact she lifted a hand to touch at her hair and tuck it slightly behind her ear? Well, Roy knew those subtle clues, didn’t he? She was flattered. Turning away, the blonde woman would begin to walk off. “You’re just as perfect from this angle!” The man called out after her. “I’ll wait for you forever, if I must!” Oh, he was smooth. *** Asshole. Who did he think he was? And why the hell was she so flattered? Roy could lay lines like that on her all god damned day and she’d ignore it, tell him to go back to work. She was immune to his flirting! And this loser son of a bitch selling slabs of fake meat said less than a hundred words and she was flattered? Asshole. Roy stared at him, imagining briefly of punching him in the god damned throat. He didn’t have his gloves, otherwise the stall would go up in flames and everyone would get free barbeque tonight. Dick. “That worked really well for you,” he said sarcastically, given Hawkeye had declined and walked away. Still, livid underneath, Mustang shook his head and turned away. Better he not assault the locals, better he not raise his hackles and peacock in front of everyone in the market. Hawkeye could do whatever she wanted and no amount of fighting street vendors would sway her into loving him the way he imagined. Idiot. *** Back to the Colonel’s apartment (she would always think of it that way) Hawkeye took the time to put all of the food away carefully and into the spots it belonged-- it was clear that York had made a really wonderful system, which she appreciated, and would keep going. But once all that food was put away, she turned her attention onto the Colonel once again and watched him a few seconds before turning back to fold up the bag they (read: she) used for the market. Hawkeye had a plethora of things she wanted to say to him, but none of it seemed worth saying. None of it seemed smart to say. So she remained silent. Unfortunately, living with Riza Hawkeye didn’t make the apartment anymore lively, except the fact that Mustang seemed a bit.. Well.. livelier? Was that the word? And Riza wasn’t afraid to admit it pleased her. “You should call her.” She said, after a rather lengthy silence. Likely far too long. She meant the red-head, of course. That pink and yellow would look fantastic on her skin tone. Go on, Roy, make things easier for her, remind her that no matter what your mouth said, you’d always be Roy Mustang: womanizer. *** Back home, Roy flopped onto the couch and let Hawkeye do the rest of whatever. He heard her putzing around putting things away and he? He just closed his eyes and drifted off, startling himself awake before he could go too far. He twitched. Then when she finished, he looked up when she spoke. Call her? “Who?” he asked, “My mother?” A terrible joke, but he laughed anyway. His mother was dead, of course, had been since Roy’s first year of life. He’d never known any details about her. The Colonel rubbed his face with a weary hand and yawned. He knew who Hawkeye was talking about, he just wasn’t interested. “Here,” he said, fishing the number out of his pocket, “You call her, I’ll let you wear my uniform and everything. I’ve got several sets of nice lacy things to wear instead.” *** Why was he doing this? They both knew who she was talking about, and yet.. Ah, there it was. A long-fingered hand extended to take the number from his fingers and she dropped it neatly into the trash can before heading for the office. There was no point in wearing her uniform for the rest of the day, so she’d strip out of it and carefully remove the stars, tucking them into her extra pair of boots for safe keeping, and hang it all up neatly. She didn’t bother to close the door-- why would she?-- but she did pause long enough to look at herself in the mirror-- in those white, lacy underthings-- and slowly turned so she could see her back, casting a look over her shoulder at the markings there. And the scars. After a few seconds, she removed the clip from her hair and let it fall down to partially cover the top half of that tattoo. Then she stooped to grab up some clothes and started to dress. Even if she had liked the look of that man, there was no point in accepting his invitation. Who’d have guessed it? Riza Hawkeye had an issue with the way she looked with her clothes off. Though, really, it might not be much of a surprise for anyone who really knew her. But no one did. In her mind, there’d never really been any other choice than Roy’s great ‘plan’. If they didn’t go through with it, what was left for her? Nothing. The answer was nothing. One of the many reasons she would happily follow Mustang into Hell. *** Roy followed her. Of course he did. He wished he hadn’t because he paused in the doorway when she had her back turned, giving him a full look at the expanse of her torso, from the set of her shoulders down the length of her spine to the width of her hips. In all of that, Roy only saw the scars and the ink penned into her skin at first. She was beautiful, even with the marks laid therein. He regretted the scars more than anything. He’d been the one to leave them on her, and in doing so he had taken her burden onto his shoulders and carried it with him. He didn’t mind. He’d carry it forever, after what he’d done. Roy hesitated, he lowered his eyes, then looked back up, stepping into the office fully and stopping behind her. His hands settled on her hips and he touched his brow to her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. He didn’t say anything. What could he say? He only ever ruined moments when he opened his mouth. So, wisely, he chose not to speak. *** Pants having been slipped on, the Lieutenant had a bra dangling in her fingers when Roy had come in, causing her to pause and turn her head a bit, but she didn’t look far enough to see him behind her. She felt his hands fall to her hips. His forehead pressed to the back of her skull. His hands were so warm. So welcome. The bra was brought up, the cups tucked into place beneath her breasts, she slipped the straps to hang at her elbows. He didn’t have to say anything. She would. “Do you mind, sir?” Her words were quiet, gentle. The blonde woman expected that the Colonel would hook her bra for her. It gave her an excuse to feel his fingers on her skin, a small moment she was stealing. Just a moment between the two of them. *** If she could steal moments, so would he. Roy lifted his head away from Riza’s a bit, raising one hand away from her hips to gather her blond hair and sweep it over her shoulder. Unnecessary for the act of clasping her bra, as requested, since it didn’t hang down that low. But helpful for the pursuit of kissing her throat, which is what he did. He leaned his head back in and touched his lips to her skin, then tongue and teeth. The last only lightly so as not to mar the flesh. He trailed down to her shoulder where he paused and only then did his other hand slide away from her hip to ghost up her side, the other hand following suit on the opposite end. He did take the ends of her bra in hand then changed course midway to push them away, both hands setting to flesh again to curve around her ribs to the soft underside of her breasts, cupping them, his thumbs stroking over nipples. Not what either of them meant to happen, probably. Roy didn’t care. *** With her hair gently brushed aside like that, the Lieutenant tilted her head a little, allowing his mouth access to her neck. His mouth felt perfect there. It reminded her of other places his mouth had felt amazing. And now one of his hands was sliding up, the other was moving, her bra pulled away carefully and his hand replaced it-- Riza let out a little puff of breath and she pressed her hips back against him. Well that hadn’t been a brilliant move. She really needed to get accustomed to this sex thing real fast, so she could learn to ignore it. But right now, she had no chance, and he felt so good against her. He had so much more experience, he certainly could have seduced her without even trying. “The bra is supposed to go on, Colonel.” She managed in a surprisingly stern tone. “I won’t ask you for help later if you can’t behave now.” The sniper didn’t want him to stop, of course, but he had to. They couldn’t do this again-- that again. His hands were already on her and she’d enjoy them, but she couldn’t let it go further. They needed to stop. She was starting that now. *** She pressed her hips back against his, causing his breath to catch, his lips there against her skin. Riza was warm and while he’d never tell her she was soft the flesh of her breasts certainly were in his hands. Was that a threat from her? A command? Behave, Roy Mustang. What would she do? Draw a gun? … would he mind if she did? Tell him sit on his hands while she finished dressing. He liked the idea. But now wasn’t the time. Roy kissed her throat again, ghosting his lips up to that place just under her ear, while his hands let go then clasped her bra. See? He could behave. But only just. All the more reason to take her clothes off again. Hands back on her hips, one remained there only briefly before he was reaching around to glide across her belly then angling downward, the tips of his fingers pushing beneath her trousers. He wanted to touch her. Please her. And then he could leave her there, a heaping mess of pleasure. *** Bra clasped, she felt safer, even with the kiss to her neck. But then his hand was slipping around, it was pushing down, his fingers slipping between flesh and trousers. Her hand came up to catch his wrist, but it just held, she didn’t attempt to pull his hand away. What were they doing? This was such a bad idea. Still, she left his hand and held. Her fingers would only tighten the further he slipped his hand downwards. Oh. Shit. Her chin dropped down towards her chest. Surely Roy had to realize the advantage he had here, he knew more about her body than she did-- he knew more about what she wanted than she did. And all the Lieutenant could do was stand there, her hips pushing back into his to try and avoid those fingers because she knew they should not be continuing down this road but.. But damnit, she wanted this, and she wanted him, and she wanted that damn hand. The grip around his wrist tightened a little more. If she wasn’t careful, she might bruise him. What was Roy doing with this woman? Really? He could have had any normal, reasonable woman off the street, who wouldn’t have such adverse reactions to his advances. *** Her motions were tantalizing, as was that vicelike grip on his wrist. It did nothing to deter him, she wasn’t saying no. He took it for permission, such as it was, his lips to her skin, teeth biting just so. He knew what he was doing and it was honestly the most relieving thing in the world---to bring a woman pleasure with his hands, hands that were used for killing. Nevermind his prior thoughts he shouldn’t be touching her with them. He wanted it as much as she did. She pushed her hips back into him, so that Roy’s other hand looped around her to hold the woman near. He didn’t need to see what he was doing to open her trousers, to push his hand further beneath her panties to touch her. His breath caught in his throat again, but he never hesitated. Everything about his touch was confident and sure. And when his fingers were inside her? Well, he kept his arm around her to keep her from sinking to the floor. *** He would need to tighten his arm around her-- why wasn’t Roy able to be like this all the time? Able to anticipate what she would do? Because her knees gave in once his fingers slipped inside and it was only his arm that kept her from sinking to the ground. Her other hand grasped onto that holding arm and her breaths became shuddering. Why wasn’t Roy able to use his words as well as his hands? He could weave a spell on any other woman with that silver tongue, and his hands worked just as well on them as they did Riza-- but he couldn’t get that tongue to work on the woman he loved. His hands, however, didn’t seem to have the same hangup. Maybe he should stop trying to use his tongue (ahem, not like that) and instead start using his hands a little more often. His touch was golden. No matter where he put his hands on her, he got a positive reaction. Riza, who wasn’t used to being touched, but was immune to his non-stop flirting. He’d given her far too much practice ignoring his words, but those hands? Well. They were new. The warmth of his body was new. The confidence that came with his movements was altogether different than his smooth-talking. It seemed Roy Mustang couldn’t lose as long as he kept his mouth shut. He’d have the Lieutenant eventually releasing the grip on his arm (not his wrist, not that hand which had disappeared into her panties-- that grip stayed tight) to lift her hand and cover her mouth to silence herself. At least she still had some wits about her. She would not be moaning for Colonel Roy Mustang, while bent forward in his office, with his hand down her pants. No matter how much she wanted to. *** Oh, damn, she was beautiful. She was perfect. And he wasn’t just thinking so because he was pressing two fingers inside her, though believe you me, it was the sexiest thing he could ever imagine. Her back to his chest, her knees weak, and her breath a shuddering mess? She was beautiful and he loved her, and Roy had no desires other than to undo her. She covered her mouth with a hand, and whatever her intent, it spurred him on, long fingers curling inside. He closed his mouth over her throat again, not cruelly, but possessive. His hips pressed into her own, and when she twitched involuntarily, that tantalizing quiver, the jerk of her hips he held tighter and refused to let go. No even when the motions were more desperate and uncontrolled. Not until she reached her peak and he could push her over. He wanted to make her feel good. *** He was definitely doing a great job at making her feel good. And she was doing a terrible job of controlling herself, of being stoic and stern. She just couldn’t fight against that-- he knew it. His talented Killer’s hands would do their job well; they were meant to subdue and to take by force, they were there to make his opponent submit. And while Riza wasn’t an opponent (well, depending on what, exactly, they were talking about..) he was certainly making her submit. It didn’t take him more than five minutes before her hand fell away from her mouth to grasp onto his arm again to give her some stability when she let out a few panting breaths. His name slipped out in a moan. Roy. Her legs finally gave out entirely and he’d have to take on her total weight, or lower her to the ground, because there was no way Riza was going to be able to hold herself up as that sudden, world-shattering orgasm took over. Fucking Roy Mustang. Even her hands were shaking as they held on. Her entire body shivered. *** There it was. The sound of his name on her lips, that breathless moan--it sent a thrill of pleasure down his spine, a touch of satisfaction. She was beautiful and he loved her. And then she was a shivering mess of release, her weight in his arms nothing for him to keep. He grasped her tight, holding her back against his chest, his arm adjusting to angle across her so she wouldn’t fall. She wouldn’t end up on the ground, not ever. Roy held her, his forehead to her hair, his breath rugged in her ear. She was beautiful. She felt wonderful in his arms. He never wanted to let her go. And no matter the words of her resistance he wouldn’t give in lightly. Nevermind the mixed signals, the confusing messages. Her weak moments and her stern denials. He’d take what he could get and when she allowed it? He’d give her all the pleasure in the world. Happily so. She deserved that much, he wanted that much. Roy breathed her name quietly, kissing her hair, and when she was stable on her feet again he lingered just a while longer then slowly let go. What could he say? She already knew everything he was capable of expressing. *** Finally released, Hawkeye found that her legs had begun to work again and that her back felt very cold. It was an unwelcome feeling. Still trying to regain her breath, she’d move both hands down to zip her trousers back up and button them, then she looked over her shoulder at him, cheeks a little flushed and her pupils larger than normal. That? That was the post-sex glow he’d missed the first time in the darkness of his apartment on that couch. There was even a little smile she couldn’t seem to push away. A hand lifted to tuck her hair behind her ear and the Lieutenant took a shaky step back towards her bag, so she could bend and pick up her shirt, carefully tugging it on over her head. She was finally beginning to get her breathing under control. And once dressed, she found that she was finally able to turn and face the Colonel fully. “I thought I told you to behave yourself, sir.” It seemed like a tease because of the small smile, but it was as much a scold as it was a tease. “Go set up the cot.” It’d give him something to do. It’d give her a moment to collect herself. Go on, Roy. Get out. *** Roy stood there staring, he had the good sense not to wipe his hand on anything (why would he? He wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed or anything but entirely pleased with the moment), but he did smile when she scolded him. Then he winked. The idiot. He couldn’t help it, she looked so damned wonderful with that post-sex color in her cheeks. “Yes, sir,” he teased right back and then he left her in the office to finish her business as intended. He should have left her alone to begin with, but he never regretted their encounters. His mood decidedly stable, Roy smiled as he did as commanded, contentedly distracting himself with putting together her bed. Today had been a good day. They happened so rarely. Maybe they should spend more time together. It made them both happy. |