Games without Frontiers - Chapter 7 - Roy/Riza - Rating M/NC-17
Series Title: Games without Frontiers
Series Rating: PG - NC-17
Main Character:Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye
Other Characters: Various other members of the Peanut Gallery called Fullmetal Alchemist
Word Count: 1,406
Warning potential overdosing of crrrrack.
Synopsis: Interesting, what one night of moonlight can accomplish.
Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.
Chapter 7: Just One Night of Moonlight
Rated M/NC-17 for Situations
She heard Mustang’s voice raise and tuned in to what was happening in her own living room.
“I told you to wait two hours.”
“I know, I know, but, I wanted to... nice digs, Colonel. Is it that little beauty I saw at the party tonight? Didn’t know she was military.”
Riza closed her eyes. It was Havoc. Mustang had called Havoc. Idiot. Colonel of idiots. Fuhrer of idiots. Damn him. It was a good thing that Havoc had never been to her home, a grand thing that she kept her private life virtually private from her other comrades.
“What little beauty?” There was a warning in Mustang’s voice that apparently Havoc did not hear.
“That frosty little thing we saw back at the Ball. Breda was positive it was the First Lieutenant.”
“The First Lieutenant? Not likely.” Mustang lied successfully, even laughing as if the idea were insane.
“I know. I told Breda he was cracked. So... did I interrupt anything?”
“Enough. Now thanks and good night.”
“But wait-,”
“Barbeque, Havoc.”
“If things don’t go well--,”
“Your ass. Main dish.”
Riza heard the door slam and hoped it crammed that cigarette directly up his nosey nose.
Mustang came back into the room.
“You called Jean Havoc of all people?” Riza said, not quite yelling.
Mustang shrugged. “He’s who I usually call in these circumstances. He’s discreet. If you recall, I wasn’t exactly clear in thought.”
“But didn’t you think...no, of course you didn’t think. What if he had seen me? What if he’d gotten past the door and seen Black Hayate… oh, this isn’t going to work. We can’t do this. What if someone finds out-humph!”
She was powerless under the assault of his lips. So, she stood there hands at her sides, thinking about the feeling of this man’s lips on hers and how could he be holding her by the arms if he was still wearing a towel and…
Oh, my.
“You’re thinking way too loud again,” Mustang said, breathlessly. “And now, you have me at a disadvantage.”
She kept her eyes closed.
“Riza.”
She thought about... laundry. Socks. Yes, that was good. Socks and laundry.
“Riza.”
She had to do laundry tomorrow night, because yes, her hamper was quite full.
“Lieutenant!”
Okay, that was unfair. Her eyes popped open on their own, and her hand made it halfway to her forehead, and she took in the sight before her. She thought her eyes would actually leave their sockets.
“You were the one who asked me to come here,” he told her.
Once simple sentence that she could not argue with. She looked at him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. And all at once she wondered what the hell she was being such a silly little girl about.
This was what she wanted. This is what she got. And this would be what she would take.
She supposed she’d been thinking loudly again, because she saw him reading her very thoughts. That slow smile was back and he was moving.
Those lips were back on her mouth, without any preamble. She supposed that would be alright, considering all the trouble that had been caused by the previous chit chat.
She was being pushed back toward the bed and she felt hot, as if simple contact with his skin was enough to ignite.
His lips trailed across her neck, over her shoulder. And hand was pushing the tank up, over, and off. Just like that. He was a magician. Those lips were magic too, trailing over her skin like that, leaving heat everywhere they touched.
Flame Alchemist indeed.
He’d reached the waist band of her pajamas, now, and had stopped. Riza wondered why it was getting so difficult to take a breath, and then his fingers hooked themselves in her pants and pulled, and oh, dear, sweet, ever-loving....
He chuckled. “Ever practical Hawkeye.
”She looked down, then blushed, because she was wearing those terribly practical panties. “Um...they’re...”
“Perfect. It wouldn’t be you otherwise.”
And he made short work of them. Riza contemplated the ceiling. No wonder he was popular with all of the women in Eastern. And Central. And Northern. And possibly Amestris.
She looked around and saw nothing until she looked down. She was lying flat on the bed, her knees bent and legs hanging over the edge, toes about two inches from the floor. And he was just kneeling there, looking wicked, and - “Wh-what are you doing?”
Mustang halted, looked up at her. “Just relax. Trust me.”
Oh, no he wasn’t. No he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
His tongue touched her and her legs snapped shut right around his head.
It took a moment, but she heard his frantic mumbles of “I can’t breathe!” and opened her legs again, looking down with wide eyes.
Mustang shook his head, and his eyes uncrossed. “Really. You have to trust me. You will like this.”
She lay back again and kept her gaze riveted to the ceiling and every other sense to the man who was doing those... things with his tongue and... her hips bucked the next time he touched her, but she managed to keep her legs from shutting again. She supposed he needed air to get this done after all.
She tried to relax and trust him, but again and again a wave of something crested through her and she couldn’t help but move, half of her trying to get away, half of her trying to pulling him closer. Her hand fisted in his hair and pulled, her foot planted itself on his shoulder and pushed. She heard that soft chuckle again and thought it quite unfair that he could actually laugh at a time like this, because, dammit, she could barely get her own share of air into her lungs. That’s what he was doing, stealing all of the oxygen in the air for himself.
His mouth left her and she heard herself moan in protest, but then felt him slide up her body and his mouth attacked hers again. This time she opened up and let him explore her mouth with that same tongue that had just tortured her. His own moan resonated down her throat and ended right where he’d just left.
Fast, so fast, she thought. She hadn’t pictured it happening so fast. Hell, she hadn’t a picture for it at all. But he was there, right there, and he was about to, and -
“Ow!” Riza twisted the lower half of her body, feeling once again like a doused cat. “That’s quite enough of that!”
He grabbed her hips with hands like iron bands and held on tight. “Trust me,” he moaned into her neck, a pleading note to his voice she’d never heard before.
“It hurts, damn you.”
“Only for a minute or two.”
“You should have warned me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good-oh, ow!” She clubbed him on the side of his head with her fist.
“Hey!” He levered up on his arms and stared down at her, eyes wild, still buried deep inside of her. “That. Hurts.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“It’s going to hurt, Riza,” he gritted out. “You are a virgin.”
“Nobody told me it was supposed to hurt.”
“Well, I’m telling you now.”
“Well, it’s a bit late. Get out of there.”
Mustang looked at her as if she’d grown an extra head. “Are you crazy?”
“No. It hurts and I want you out.”
“As you wish.” He moved. Just a little.
Riza blinked.
He froze. “You still want me out?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He moved. A little more this time, sliding almost all the way out.
Riza moaned.
There was a little quirk at the side of his lip. “You still want me out?”
“Yes,” she said stubbornly between her teeth. “That was an anomaly.”
“An anomaly.” He shook his head. “Only you would use such a word at a time like this. Okay, tell me about this.” He pulled out again; this time sliding in as smooth as silk. “Now do you want me...out?”
Riza was silent.
“Riza?”
She stared at the ceiling, wondering where her brain had just gone.
“Was that an anomaly?”
She looked at him, her eyes clear and calm. “I’m not sure. Do that again.”
He did.
Her eyes rolled back and her legs twined themselves around his thighs. “Definitely not an anomaly, Colonel. As you were.”