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Riza Hawkeye woke up this morning thinking she’d have a normal day off with grocery shopping and tidying up her new apartment in Central.
But as she waits to be transferred to Colonel Roy Mustang’s office line, one hand propping up a payphone and one hand pushing away a soul bonded to a suit of armor, she nearly laughs at how quickly her day off has gone sideways. How naive.
“Oh, Lieutenant Hawkeye, it’s you.” Roy’s tone is surprised and slightly concerned. “What is it? I thought you had the day off.”
She sighs heavily into the phone. Barry the Chopper yells an indecipherable compliment at her as he continues his attempts to enter the phone booth with her, but she pushes him away even more forcefully. “No, it’s just that I captured something really…” Her voice trails off as she attempts to find the right word to describe the situation at hand. “...weird.”
“Weird?”
“It’s best if you come see for yourself, sir,” she answers vaguely, providing her location.
“Stay right where you are, lieutenant,” he orders. “I’m heading there now.”
She motions instinctually to salute, but quickly catches herself and mumbles her affirmative understanding before hanging up.
Setting down her groceries and purse, Riza takes a seat on a ledge near the phone booth. Barry sits to her side, inching closer and closer; despite the fact that he has no physical body, his “body” language screams an unsettling level of adoration. He turns to her and even though she can’t imagine what his face looks like, she’s certain there would be a grin on his face staring back at her.
She crinkles her brows and sternly tells him that they are both staying put. He begs to chop her up and she flatly refuses him, because how else is someone supposed to respond when a convicted (and supposedly dead) serial killer is sitting inches away from them?
Barry scoots a little closer. “Then how’s about that guy coming here?”
“Not a chance.”
She sighs. I wish the colonel would hurry up.
Fortunately, her clear and emphatic rejections are enough to briefly keep Barry both silent and at bay. Any other person would be fearful of an empty suit of armor threatening to chop them up, but it takes more than that to frighten First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.
Roy arrives a few moments later, slightly out of breath and with a sheen of sweat across his forehead. The flush of his cheeks and pace of his arrival suggest he didn’t even bother driving, and that he probably ran on foot straight from Central Headquarters.
His eyes quickly scan the area to assess the situation. She begins to apologize for bothering him, but Barry tries to grab her protectively and asks, “Hey toots, who’s the chump?” Riza tries to hush him as she creates more distance between the two of them.
Meanwhile, Roy pulls on an ignition cloth glove, and there’s a darkness in his expression that Riza can hardly recognize. It’s impossible for her to tell if it’s a sense of protectiveness over his adjutant or a legitimate thirst for violence.
“Stand aside, lieutenant. There’s going to be a fire tonight.”
“Please calm yourself, colonel!” she admonishes. “This is Barry the Chopper, a convicted criminal who was supposedly executed!”
Roy is clearly astonished as evidenced by the way his mouth gapes open. But so much has transpired over the past few months that neither of the two are truly surprised by much anymore. He orders Riza and Barry to stay firmly put while he wanders into the phone booth.
“Honey, that’s not your boyfriend, is it?” Barry asks intrusively. “I was much cuter than him when I was a human.”
Riza rolls her eyes. “No.”
“Good. He could never keep up with legs like yours.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Riza notices Roy step out of the phone booth and approach them. She’s uncertain whether or not the colonel heard Barry’s slightly inappropriate remark, but the way he clears his throat signals to her that he has chosen to not dignify his comments with any type of response.
“Lieutenant, you and Barry will come with me,” Roy commands.
“What about her groceries?” Barry asks with a misplaced sense of innocence. “Can’t let such a beautiful lady go hungry. She can’t keep those muscles strong and pretty if she’s not eating well.”
Roy picks up her groceries and begins walking without a word to either of them. Riza retrieves her purse and obediently follows, and the suit of armor trails behind her eagerly. Walking through the park and collecting puzzled looks along the way, the three make their way to the location where Roy’s car is parked. The colonel climbs into the front seat while Riza and Barry take the back.
As Roy drives, Barry continues to shower Riza with compliments—some innocuous, some a little more suggestive. She warns that she’ll use him for target practice if his comments continue, but her threat has the opposite effect as he shares just how amazed he is by her strength, beauty, and grace. Roy is barely able to contain the flames of his temper, and Riza notices this not just from his visage in the rear-view mirror but also in his tense shoulders and tight grip on the steering wheel.
She clicks her heels together three times, a code they’ve developed over the years to calm each other down. His spine straightens and shoulders loosen in response as he sighs quietly and continues to drive.
“Buddy, are we almost there? This pretty lady must be hungry and I’d love to chop you up so she has some dinner!”
—
They arrive at a warehouse, with Warrant Officer Vato Falman patiently waiting for them there. Falman quickly gets to work questioning Barry about the murders on record, and the suit of armor successfully corrects every wrong detail, even taking time to relish in killings that he finds particularly noteworthy or cathartic.
After some coaxing, Barry eventually reveals all the information he knows about Laboratory Five, the Philosopher’s Stone, and the homunculi. He explains the excruciating pain of ripping his soul from his living body and bonding it to the armor, the researchers who did it and their fate as ingredients for a Philosopher’s Stone, his encounter with the Elric brothers.
The situation is clearly disturbing and requires full attention, but Riza can’t help stealing glances of Roy out of the corner of her eye. The warehouse is warm, so he’s taken off his jacket to reveal the shoulder holster he’s wearing on top of his dress shirt, and it hangs in such a way that shows his defined arms and chest. As he jots down a note, his arm moves so that the holster sits flush against his chest, and she has to fight the urge to bite her lip in response to the outline of his muscles under his perfectly tailored shirt.
How does a man who spends so much time at a desk stay in such excellent shape?
She’s quickly brought back to the gravity of the situation when Roy pointedly asks if Barry murdered Maes Hughes. There’s an emptiness in his voice and body language the likes of which she hasn’t seen since Ishval.
Gratefully, Barry is genuinely clueless about the situation, absolving him of responsibility. Though Riza wants to find Hughes’ killer almost as much as Roy, she’s frightened of just how vengeful her colonel might become when face-to-face with whoever it might be. Not today.
At first the colonel dismisses Falman and tells him not to get involved, but when Falman offers his assistance, Roy orders him to take time off and keep Barry away from both the military and the general public.
This set of orders takes Falman aback—after all, his specialty is in intelligence gathering, not in babysitting empty suits of armor. But the entirety of the Mustang unit is loyal, almost to a fault, and this officer is no different.
After all, their colonel is worth it.
—
“I’m sorry your night was ruined, lieutenant,” Roy mumbles as he starts the engine of the car. “Let’s get you home.”
Riza shrugs back at him as he begins to drive in the direction of her apartment. “I know you’re disturbed by tonight’s events. But we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
It’s easy for Riza to tell what kind of mood he is in based on the way he drives. A frenzied, harried drive with lots of banter and an inability to abide by basic traffic laws is the first sign of a calm, collected, normal colonel.
But this is not one of those drives.
Instead the car is quiet, save for the hum of the vehicle’s engine. Riza is used to drives like this, when Roy is lost in thought and needs time to himself. In the early stages of their working relationship she feared her presence was intrusive or otherwise unhelpful on drives like this, but the fact that over the years these drives have grown in frequency paints a different picture.
She turns around to look at his jacket, which is still neatly folded in the back seat. Shifting her gaze, she examines his physique and his shoulder holster. She’s thought about him in many different ways over the years, but this is different than her usual train of thought in public. It’s a lot less pure, and much more difficult to ignore. There’s a twinge in between her legs, and she shifts uncomfortably in her chair in the hope that it’ll dissipate.
Painfully aware of her inappropriate thoughts, she props her elbow up against the arm of her car door, rests her chin in the palm of her hand, and stares out the window absentmindedly. She lives down the street from the warehouse and somehow this still is the longest car ride she’s ever taken home in Central.
Roy brings the car to a stop and parks it, a full block away from her house, just like he does any other time he drives her home. There’s never such a thing as too cautious.
Usually he lets her out at this spot and sits in the car to watch her as she makes her way into her apartment. But this time he rushes out of his seat with her, retrieves his jacket from the back seat, and puts it on. He explains that their findings tonight worry him a little more than usual so he’ll be walking her all the way up to her apartment door.
“You don’t trust Officer Falman to keep things in check?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in suspicion as she takes her groceries in one arm.
Roy shakes his head. “I don’t trust Barry ,” he counters defensively. “He’s a deranged lunatic who appears to now be obsessed with you. I’m always confident in your skills, lieutenant, but you’re also the one who always says a little backup never hurts.”
“I’ll be fine, sir.”
Still, it’s nice to be cared for. If she shuts her eyes it’s almost as if he’s walking her home after a date—not after an evening of learning about top-secret military conspiracies.
Riza approaches her door and reaches in her pocket for her keys before offering a firm salute to her commanding officer.
“Thank you for making sure I get back alright, sir,” she says as she places the key in the lock and turns it. “I appreciate it. Now get home safely.”
Roy shakes his head and asks to come in. At first her response is apprehensive, but Roy points out that Barry could be waiting for her.
She sighs, relenting. Usually she’d fight him about this, but his behavior has been worrisome for most of the evening and she doesn’t have it in her to put up a fight tonight. He can be impulsive, and she’s fearful that one day his inability to control himself will lead him into a more dangerous situation.
But what could even be more dangerous than this situation with Barry?
The colonel crosses the threshold of the door before her, his left hand gloved and his right arm resting on his shoulder holster. She flips on the lights and the two are greeted by a cheerful, excited Black Hayate.
“See, sir?” She sets down her groceries and kneels to pet her canine companion. “Nothing here but this guy. I can take care of myself.”
He shakes his head, inhales deeply, and sighs quietly. “It isn’t that. I just hated hearing Barry talk about you that way.”
She picks up her groceries and rises, furrowing her brows at him. “In what way, sir?”
“Talking so lewdly about how you look. It’s disgusting.”
A shiver creeps up her spine and goosebumps travel along her arms as Roy glances at the side of her leg. She’s cut slits into most of her skirts specifically so she has a safe, accessible location for her firearm when wearing civilian clothing. It’s been a practice of hers ever since returning from combat in Ishval; after all, as a sniper, one must be prepared for anything.
In all of the years they’ve known each other, Roy has never been untoward. He has treated her with the utmost respect, even when Riza’s classmates in her hometown would whisper about the boy living with her, or when other officers saw them nearly inseparable at Eastern Headquarters. He has always maintained a safe distance, an even tone, a level head. The colonel has openly chatted about his preference for a woman’s legs, yet whenever she is required to wear a skirt for formal duties or events, his eyes never wander below her shoulders.
Riza has always followed his appropriate, professional lead. When they were children she admired his strong jaw and deep laugh, but only when he was buried in a book and couldn’t notice her gaze. And once she began to work as his adjutant, even those looks stopped. In the office she nods, smiles, bows—always with courtesy and deference.
But when she’s at home, reliant on her memory and the power of her imagination, she can do more than admire. She can fantasize about all the ways he’d eye her hungrily, or command her unprofessionally, or touch her all over.
There’s a curiosity that lingers in the back of her mind after all these years, of whether he actually believes in the wall of professionalism they’ve drawn up together in public or if it’s all a façade to him in the same way it is for her.
Riza knows better than to let her curiosity show, though, and her eyes dart upward at him in acknowledgment of his worry. I’m fine .
The moment he notices her glancing back at him, he’s quick to compose himself—hasty, almost. “It’s not your fault, lieutenant. You’re entitled to keep your firearms wherever you’d like. All I’m saying is he shouldn’t feel so comfortable talking about you in that manner.”
She nearly laughs at how defensive he is. After all, she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and as a woman in the military she’s used to all sorts of remarks about her appearance, the way she carries herself, who she might be interested in. She reminds him that Barry likely talked to his victims in the same way, that she was probably one of the few people who was able to fight back.
“That’s not what I mean,” the colonel responds brusquely. “No one should talk to you like that.”
“Sir, it’s getting late, and I think it’s having an effect on you. I’ll be fine, so it’s ok for you to head home.”
“I’m still worried. I’ll stay here.”
“No.” Riza points towards the door, gesturing to open it. “While I appreciate the concern, all I need is a good night’s rest. I won’t be able to do that if you’re here, since I’d end up sleeping on the floor monitoring you.”
It’s true. She values Roy’s comfort far more than her own, so her instinct would be to offer her bed for him to rest on. But it’s been a long evening, and all she wants is to lay down in the comfort of her own bed without worrying about Roy. It’s one of the few places she can find solace from the anxieties of the outside world.
“I know your instinct is to make me the most comfortable, but lieutenant, all I’m concerned about right now is ensuring your safety. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She pauses, hesitating. Riza’s not in the mood to argue, and if he’s offering to take the couch, all the better. After all, he’s parked far enough away from her place to not arouse suspicion, and Barry is under the watchful eye of Warrant Officer Falman. This is all just a formality to appease him and his tendency to worry.
“Fine,” she states plainly before changing the subject. “By the way, I’m glad you’re wearing your holster, sir. It’s a good look.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, colonel,” she admonishes. “All I meant is I’m glad you’re arming yourself. You can’t always rely on just alchemy.”
Roy takes a seat on the couch as she excuses herself to put away her groceries. They’ve been out most of the evening so her meats and cheese are no good, but at least her produce and bread will be fine. Guess I’ll go tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll be less eventful.
When she’s done, Riza tells the colonel to make himself at home as much as he can. (He may not be sleeping on a bed, but that was of his own volition; he deserves some level of comfort if he still insists on staying.)
To help him feel settled, she walks into her bedroom to pull out an extra pillow and blanket from a box in her closet. She’s still unpacking from the move to Central and can barely find anything else she needs, so she’s grateful she doesn’t need to make him wait too long.
She returns to the living room and finds that he’s already sprawled out on the couch, his jacket laying neatly on the coffee table. The image of Colonel Roy Mustang laying on her couch in a shoulder holster nearly gives her shivers, but she ignores the physiological response and hands him the amenities in her hand, attempting to remain as normal as possible.
“You’ll need to take off the holster and put the guns on the table. You don’t want to accidentally set them off and waste your ammo,” she reminds him.
He sets the pillow under his head and the still-folded blanket up against the back of the couch. Shifting her gaze, she examines his physique and his shoulder holster once more before catching herself and blinking rapidly to come back to full attention.
Clearing his throat, Roy sets his two guns down on the coffee table, on top of his jacket. “Why would I take my holster off, lieutenant? You said it was a good look. I can tell because you’ve been staring at it all night.”
“Sir, you don’t wear it as often as you should. I worry you don’t adjust the fit every time you wear it.”
Liar. He caught you.
“I can assure you it’s functioning as it should. Just like my firearms.” He pauses, his fingers resting on his chin as he looks off into the distance. “Speaking of which, just how high up do you keep your gun? The way Barry was talking made it sound as if you had revealed yourself to him.”
Taken aback, Riza puts her hands on her hips and gives him a stern look. “You know me better than that, sir.”
He chuckles. “Easy, lieutenant. I’m only poking fun at you.” His eyes narrow. “I’m still curious, though. Where do you keep your holster? I showed you mine, so it’s only fair you show me yours too.”
She’s uncertain about whether his curiosity is rooted in a mere concern for her wellbeing or if there’s a more suggestive implication, but the two of them don’t keep secrets from each other, much less as it relates to their own security measures. Sticking out her leg from the slit, she hikes the skirt up to reveal where the holster is still sitting. (She usually sets the firearms down on the nightstand when she arrives home, but since Roy is here, she’s a little more cautious than a normal evening.)
“I try to keep them lower than the actual slit,” she explains. “Otherwise, I’d have to dig around for them, and that’s precious time wasted.”
He reaches his hand out near—but not on—her skin. “May I?”
At first she’s hesitant. After all, it’s very clear what path they’re headed down, and although she’s thought of him like this before, she also knows this is a slippery slope. Still, her burgeoning desire is getting the best of her, and she’s confident in both their abilities to keep things professional in case they continue crossing blurred lines.
She nods slowly, and the moment his fingertips land on her skin, she sinks into his touch. It’s near impossible for her to mask how good it feels as his knuckles brush up the skin of her thighs, even under the guise of him examining her equipment.
He removes her gun and sets it on the table. “You won’t need that.” He adjusts slightly on the couch and props himself up to plant a single kiss on her thigh, right under the holster.
There’s no question, yet she still groans a satisfied yes as he continues planting soft kisses along her thigh, up to the waistband of her undergarments. The sensation gives her goosebumps and she’s barely able to focus on removing the gun holstered on her other thigh.
Roy tugs on her skirt, motioning her on top of him, and she does so hurriedly, as if she’d run out of breath if she didn’t. She leans in to kiss him and though she’s fantasized about what it would feel like to kiss her colonel, she never imagined it would be like this —so wanton and urgent, depraved almost.
“Sit up, sir,” she commands, standing up to give him room. It’s one of the few times she’s told him what to do, and though it’s slightly foreign, it’s exhilarating .
He obliges, his back against the foundation of the couch, and she quickly takes a seat on his lap, moving in to kiss him again. She tosses her arms around the back of his neck and pulls him in closer; he takes a fistful of her hair in his hand, pressing his fingertips into her scalp.
Riza begins to grind gently against his lap and his neck relaxes against her hands. At first he groans softly as their eyes remain locked on each other, but then he pulls her in closer and kisses her neck, his breath dancing along her skin. It’s electrifying, sending shivers up her spine in a way she couldn’t have ever imagined.
“May I try something, sir?” she asks breathlessly. Caught in the ecstasy of his lips on her skin, she can barely choke out the sentence, but she’s desperate to give him more. He deserves it all.
He nods in a way that is somehow still deeply affectionate and sweet, even in spite of the less-than-wholesome activities they’re engaging in on the couch. It’s comforting that he’s so willing to open himself up to her without even asking what she has in mind. She’ll always cherish their mutual trust in each other.
Rising from his lap and kneeling on the ground in front of him, she unbuckles his belt and meets his gaze. His eyes are wide in disbelief as she undoes the button of his pants.
“Are you sure, lieutenant?” Even though his voice is husky with desire, it’s clear that her comfort and consent are more important to him than his growing arousal.
“Definitely.” She pauses. “If it’s alright with you, sir.”
“There are few things I’ve ever wanted more.”
Taking the waistband of his pants in her hands, she pulls them down with his help, to find a pair of grey silk boxer briefs underneath. The fabric clings to his skin in just the right way, revealing the outline of his already-hard cock. She teasingly runs her knuckles along the length and a deep groan escapes from his throat; his cock throbs against her touch.
Making quick work of his boxers, she takes his cock into her hand and begins to pump up and down slowly. His breath quickens and he grips the couch cushions in response. She’s been a sniper and fought an empty suit of armor, yet she’s never felt more powerful than in this moment of being in full control of her colonel’s pleasure.
She leans her head in towards his lap and swirls her tongue over the head of his cock without ever loosening her grip along the shaft. His hips jerk involuntarily in response and he hastily apologizes, but he’s barely able to finish his sentence when she takes him deeper in her mouth. She continues to bob along his cock with her mouth while her hand pumps up and down. These motions are unfamiliar to her and she’s not sure if he’s enjoying it, but his sudden groans are all the confirmation she needs to continue.
For many, many years, Riza has kept her more lewd thoughts about the colonel within the confines of her living spaces. Though she’d be embarrassed to admit it to anyone, she’s spent plenty of evenings with her eyes shut, touching herself to the thought of Roy. She’s imagined him fucking her on every inch of surface area in her apartment in East City, most especially in her kitchen. More recently she’s daydreamed, while taking a shower in her Central apartment, what it would be like to get on her knees for him in there.
But those fantasies are nothing compared to what it’s like to really hear his moans, feel his body pressed up against her, taste his lips on hers.
“Ah—you might want to slow down, lieutenant,” he warns breathlessly. “It may look like there are only four loaded guns in this room, but there’s actually a fifth.”
Riza almost chokes, not because of the intimate act she’s performing on him but because she can’t tell if she likes his joke or thinks it’s absolutely ludicrous. “I can stop if you prefer.”
“Sit back on my lap,” he commands. “After you take off everything from the waist down.”
She looks at him cautiously. “Sir—”
“I assure you that not only am I 100% clean according to my last physical, I’m also always armed with many types of protection, not just firearms. It’s SOP at the bar.”
Her concern isn’t about safe practices. After all, the military provides female officers the option of getting a contraceptive injection at their annual physicals. (She’s never told anyone; the only other person who needs to know is her doctor.) And of course she believes Roy’s assurances that he is clean. Rather, now that they’ve crossed even more lines this evening, she’s worried about the effect this will have on their professional relationship, on the walls they’ve drawn up between each other for so long.
On the surface Roy’s eyes are hungry and lustful, but there’s a lingering unease that matches hers. It’s an unease that only she would ever notice, in his body language, from being with him for years. Still, they’ve already crossed the line of professional moments beforehand, when she let him touch her thigh. There’s a conversation to be had about this, but they both nod at each other, as if to acknowledge that the conversation can happen later—after this, whatever this is.
Obediently rising from the ground, she rubs her knees with her fingertips gently. Despite the fact that she’s wearing a skirt, she still feels a slight sting from being on her knees for so long. She steps out of her skirt to reveal what’s underneath. It’s nothing special—just a pair of black panties sitting comfortably at her waist—but she’ll never be able to look at this specific piece of clothing the same way ever again.
Roy’s eyes scan her from the waist down, and it takes all of her energy to not disobey him and fall back on her knees for him. After years of looking her directly in the eye, he’s finally looking at her more than just as his adjutant. She’s a woman he wants.
“It looks like you’re in excellent shape, lieutenant,” he remarks. “But we should make sure your stamina is up to par too.”
She smirks. “I’d be happy to demonstrate, sir,” she responds flirtatiously. She can hardly recognize these versions of them—the playful, suggestive banter—but she’s not complaining. “And while I appreciate the gesture, we don’t need your protection. Not only do I have a clean bill of health, I’ve also been issued a contraceptive injection. Is that ok?”
He bites his lip at her to indicate his approval and gestures her to get back on top of him. She obliges, setting her knees on the couch against his own legs. With one hand on the back of the couch and one hand on his cock, she gently rubs the head of his cock around her clit and folds teasingly.
Roy gasps, but quickly catches himself. “Lieutenant, while I appreciate that, I gave you an order.”
“I just wanted to show you that I was ready to obey that order, sir.”
Using her hand to guide him through her entrance, it takes her a moment to stretch around in response to his cock. At first it’s disconcerting, but soon her walls ease around him and oh, it’s so good . At first she’s hovering, having taken only a bit of him inside her, but she lowers herself onto his full length and he cries out, begging her to keep moving.
She’s imagined this plenty of times, but she’s still incredulous that she’s sitting on Roy’s lap, that he’s completely under her control and pleading for her. Of course she’s had power over others in the past, but never like this .
Roy’s hand moves up her thigh and brushes against the fabric of her thigh holster. “Do you plan to keep this on?” he questions.
She nods. “Keep yours on too,” she instructs.
Moving her hands from the back of the couch, Riza tugs on both straps of his holster and uses it as leverage as she continues to ride him. He smirks back at her, and it takes all her mental effort not to ride him at full intensity. Of course this moment can’t last forever, but that doesn’t mean she can’t draw it out a little. She slows down momentarily, just enough to tease him without upsetting him or encouraging him to take control.
The couch squeaks as she continues moving against him. Sweat begins to develop in response to both the warmth of their bodies and the lack of cooling in her building, and her thighs begin to slap against his. Their movements make the air thick with the smell of his cologne and her shampoo.
He cups his hands and places them on her hips, gripping the skin of her ass with his fingertips. The way he guides her movements on top of him only makes her more intent on maintaining control, but this is her colonel, after all, and she’d do anything and everything for him.
“Faster,” he urges her.
Riza happily obliges, riding him so fast that her knees begin to sting from the friction of kneeling on her couch so aggressively. It doesn’t matter, though—this is what he wants, and she’s so proud to deliver.
She tenses around his cock, and his fingertips dig into her flesh even more in response. For years they’ve utilized codes, but right now they don’t need them. A code is meaningless in comparison to what they’re doing right now.
“Have you ever thought about this before?” she asks, deliberately stopping her movements and allowing him to catch his breath. “Us like this, I mean.”
He nods aggressively. “Often.”
“Me too,” she admits. “I’d like to show you what I do when I think about this, if that’s alright, sir.”
Before he can even respond, she sneaks her hand in between her legs and begins to rub at her clit slowly. His eyes widen but he’s silent and mesmerized; his cock quickly stiffens inside her even more, and it only makes her yearn for more friction. At first her touch is slow and gentle, but she finds a particularly noteworthy spot and her colonel bites his lip in response, so she quickens her pace to match his excitement.
She’s touched herself to the thought of him before, but this climax is completely different. He’s not just a fantasy: he’s inside her, filling her up while she plays with herself—and not only that, he’s actively watching her. Now he’ll know, forever, what she looks like coming undone.
Her walls close in around his cock, and her heart beats so quickly she swears it’ll burst from her chest. As she opens her eyes she finds Roy staring at her hand, which she has yet to remove from between her legs.
As she collapses in exhaustion, Roy takes her hand and licks her fingers, tasting her for himself. Even though she’s tired, she’s still terribly excited by this act and how lewd it really is. Barry’s comments have nothing on the thoughts she’s had about Roy in the past—and even better, the filthy things Roy and Riza have done together on this couch this evening.
Tossing her hand aside, he places his own hands on the couch to prop himself up and begins to forcefully drive into her, reminding her that he’s not quite done yet. His skin smacks aggressively against hers and even though she’s tired from her climax, she wants nothing more than for him to spill his seed all over her walls.
At first his breathing is heavy, as it has been the entire night, but it evolves into hoarse groans, much like the ones that escaped his throat when she was sucking his cock. Those groans increase in both pace and volume, so much that Riza has to gently remind him that she it’s late and she has neighbors. Still, she’s brimming with pride—who knew she could make her colonel feel so good that she’d have to hush him?
She leans in, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. As she tries to pull away, he pulls her back in and gives her deep, greedy kisses. Though his kisses and his motions are intense, they’re never forceful, and Riza is happy to oblige because her pleasure is so intrinsically entwined with his.
He continues to thrust into her, his speed quickening. His guttural moans combined with the way his eyes roll into the back of his head signal to Riza that he’s enjoying this moment of being in control, even in spite of her being on top. He warns her— I’m close —and with a series of rapidfire thrusts he coats her walls as he pulls away for a gasp of air.
They sit together quietly for a few moments, eyes locked on each other, catching their breath. The air is thick with the smell of his aftershave, her shampoo, their sweat clinging together. There’s a stillness between the two of them that Riza hardly recognizes, a sort of calm she only recalls from the early parts of their childhood together. It’s a sense that, even with the world falling apart around them and danger clearly on the horizon, they’ll figure it out. Whatever it is.
“May I rise and clean up, sir?” she asks, breaking the silence. It’s the most apprehensive she’s been all night. He nods at her, and she slowly eases up off of him, using her hand to guide his cock out of her.
“What a mess I’ve made on your couch, lieutenant.”
Climbing off of the couch, she shakes her head. “We both did,” she points out, excusing herself.
She walks through the bedroom and into the bedroom to use the toilet—the military incessantly reminds women to use the restroom after any kind of sexual activity with a partner, and though she’s never done this before, she’d rather take the advice now than regret it later.
When she’s done, she grabs a washcloth and runs it under warm water, so she can give it to Roy. Returning to the living room, she holds out the washcloth for him to find that he’s already put his pants back on, though his firearms are still sitting on the coffee table. He’s standing hunched over the couch, looking absentmindedly at the couch cushions. It’s impossible to tell if he’s blissfully dazed or actually distracted.
“I brought this for you to help you clean up,” she says gently, “but it looks like you’re already done.”
Roy smiles weakly. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. It’s a bit... undignified .” He takes the washcloth. “I can at least wipe your couch down, though.”
She declines the help before clearing her throat. “I’m going to head to bed now, sir. Please arm yourself and head home.”
He shakes his head emphatically. “I meant what I said. I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially since Barry is so interested in you.”
She points out that the person they call Barry is the soul of a serial killer bonded to a suit of armor. He’s not someone she’d be interested in. She fights the urge to share what’s really on her mind, because it doesn’t matter. It’s you. It always has been.
Roy shrugs. “Be that as it may, I still want to make sure you’re attended to, at least for the rest of this evening.”
The air is thick with silence as Riza fights her inner turmoil. On the one hand her instinct now is to invite him to her bed so that he’s comfortable and she can protect him. And, selfishly, so they can hold each other for even a moment, especially after such an intimate act.
She begins to scold herself for giving in to her unprofessional lust, when she has always known better and acted as a paragon of professionalism. But she’s going to die one day, method to be determined, and at least she can die knowing that she’s experienced the feeling of her colonel filling her to the hilt.
Still, she can’t let him stay. Much as she appreciates his innate desire to protect her, they’ve just entered dangerous territory in many ways this evening. If the enemy—whoever the enemy is—were to find out their knowledge of Barry’s secret, or their own intimacy tonight, she shudders to think what would happen.
“I’m aware that I agreed earlier,” she admits, “but in light of more recent events, I think your judgment is a little impaired. I’ll be alright this evening, sir, so it’s time to go.”
She watches as Roy’s shoulders slump in disappointment, but she remains steadfast in her commitment to not muddy their boundaries even more than they already have. He places his firearms back in their holster and gets fully dressed, all without a word to Riza.
As he stands near the door, ready to put his shoes back on, he offers to stay one more time. She shakes her head again and opens the door for him, and he bids her good night in the most professional way possible, as if they had just wrapped up overtime in the office. Her smile back to him is weak, because of course this isn’t the way to end such an evening, but there’s more to be accomplished and more to be discovered before they can even consider them .
That evening, she clutches Black Hayate close, hopeful of a day when Roy can stay.