[Full Metal Alchemist] [Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye] [Theme #4 Sunset]
Title: Unspoken Goodbyes
Author: parsnip-chan
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist
Pairing: Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye
7snogs Theme: #4 - Sunset
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for Manga Chapter 56 with implied adult themes
Disclaimer: Full Metal Alchemist and all it's characters do not belong to me. I'm only borrowing them for my own amusement.
Author's Note: Sorry! The promised smut is only implied. *cringes* Next time? ;p
Unspoken Goodbyes
Her lips were warm against his, making his mind tumble with confusion and wonder, mystified at the strangeness of her skin brushing his. He had walked her home with the intent of saying an unspoken goodbye. That her apartment was on his way made it all the easier to prolong the last time he would be able to see her safely, without the fear of what King Bradley would do to her pulling against his soul.
Hawkeye would be the Fuhrer’s willing hostage starting in the morning; her dedication sequestered through the very rank she had achieved solely to aid his own ambition. Her loyalty would no longer be his to command. Not anymore, at least.
Hands pulled him into the dark apartment, feet tripping over a mass of yapping fur before righting themselves with satisfaction, the brass buttons that held the lapels of his uniform closed falling to the floor in a tumble.
‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,’ Roy thought as he surfaced for air before finding his lips captured once again by a desperate softness. He was supposed to wave farewell to his men before they scattered to the four corners of the country. He was supposed to cut the ties that bound them together in order to preserve their well being while he struggled on alone. He wasn’t supposed to strengthen that tie with any of his subordinates, even if it was with the one who had been with him the longest. It shouldn’t matter that the woman kissing him senseless was the only one who had sworn to protect his life with her own and stay by his side through everything.
Hungrily, he pushed his hands underneath her jacket, fingertips grazing across the rough cotton of her blouse as they traveled upward to brush against one tender peak. His seeking was rewarded with a muffled cry as Riza’s back arched, tearing their lips apart with the sudden movement. He smiled, head reeling with the delicious power he felt as the woman before him reacted to his touch.
He’d never had a woman react so completely to him before, and he marveled that first lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, the one he could always count on to stay level headed and calm, would prove to be the most sensitive to every caress, every brush of his tongue against her lips. He was intoxicated with the elixir of her taste as he pulled her flush against him to taste those enrapturing lips with his own once more, trapping his kneading hand between their bodies.
It was the moaning of his name that brought him to his senses. It wasn’t Colonel Mustang or any derivation of that, but rather the sensual whisper of his first name, ‘Roy’ that doused his ardor and reminded him that this wasn’t how his first lieutenant was supposed to act.
She was supposed to reject every advance, taking it as a joke but appreciating the underlying message beneath it. She was supposed to walk away when he plied her lips with his own in a drunken stupor, hidden in an alleyway or on a stake-out. She wasn’t supposed to initiate kisses or run her hands down his chest, working the ties of his trousers loose, and making him moan in anticipation of those eager hands rubbing against him down there.
“Hawkeye,” he groaned, stilling her hands with his own, fighting for control as his brain worked feverishly to understand what was going on, to put it in context with the events of the day and the realization that he had been duped from the very beginning. Thoughts of a homunculus and the utter corruptness of the upper military ranks nearly forced every last vestige of desire from his body.
But then she spoke, and he was lost in a cloud of overwhelming sensuality.
“Riza,” she murmured, tugging her fingers away as she shrugged out of her jacket that had mysteriously become unbuttoned, revealing the translucent cotton shirt beneath, already moist with the heat of her ardor.
“Riza” he whispered back as his eyes followed the downward sweep of her jacket as it fell to the floor. Dragging his gaze upwards, he found himself staring into her brown eyes. The guarded fear shining back at him nearly floored him. Cupping her jaw in his hands, he couldn’t help but give her one more kiss. It was gentle and sweet, and filled with all the reassurances he wanted to give to the bravest person he had ever known, outside of perhaps Ed and Al.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said softly, breath mingling with hers as he rested his forehead against her own while his lungs labored to relieve the beating of his heart.
“I know, but I want to,” she sighed, running a hand through the coarse strands of his hair. “Tomorrow, I’ll be the personal assistant to King Bradley, but right now, I have no superior officer. I am merely Riza Hawkeye, and you are only Roy Mustang.” She lifted her eyes to his, foreheads still touching. Sincerity blazed in them as well as the banked flames of her desire.
“Just for tonight,” she whispered again, fingers tugging on the captured strands of hair as she brought her lips closer to his. “Just for one night, I don’t want you to worry about me or the others.”
She brushed her lips against his, tongue tracing the tender flesh of his lower lip.
“Tonight, I don’t want to worry about all the trouble you’ll get yourself into while I’m stuck playing assistant to King Bradley. I want to know that you’ll be safe tonight, Roy.”
With a groan, he threaded his fingers into Riza’s blond hair, tugging away the barrette that kept the tresses pinned neatly to her scalp. Taking control, he walked her backwards to her bed in the corner, helping her to remove his shirt while ravaging her lips, caressing her skin beneath the blouse now only tucked in along one side. Knees hitting the edge, they fell in a tangle to the covers, lost in each other and unwilling to give up their last sunset as an unstoppable team.
In the morning, there would be no regrets. Only a lasting nostalgia for a single night spent exploring, etching the feel of skin and hands and lips and sensation into their memories. It would be one night only to last them through the trials ahead, forced apart by the enemy. A single, beautiful sunset would have to last them until they at last could watch the sun rise on a military without King Bradley and his willing minions.
Author: parsnip-chan
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist
Pairing: Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye
7snogs Theme: #4 - Sunset
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for Manga Chapter 56 with implied adult themes
Disclaimer: Full Metal Alchemist and all it's characters do not belong to me. I'm only borrowing them for my own amusement.
Author's Note: Sorry! The promised smut is only implied. *cringes* Next time? ;p
Unspoken Goodbyes
Her lips were warm against his, making his mind tumble with confusion and wonder, mystified at the strangeness of her skin brushing his. He had walked her home with the intent of saying an unspoken goodbye. That her apartment was on his way made it all the easier to prolong the last time he would be able to see her safely, without the fear of what King Bradley would do to her pulling against his soul.
Hawkeye would be the Fuhrer’s willing hostage starting in the morning; her dedication sequestered through the very rank she had achieved solely to aid his own ambition. Her loyalty would no longer be his to command. Not anymore, at least.
Hands pulled him into the dark apartment, feet tripping over a mass of yapping fur before righting themselves with satisfaction, the brass buttons that held the lapels of his uniform closed falling to the floor in a tumble.
‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,’ Roy thought as he surfaced for air before finding his lips captured once again by a desperate softness. He was supposed to wave farewell to his men before they scattered to the four corners of the country. He was supposed to cut the ties that bound them together in order to preserve their well being while he struggled on alone. He wasn’t supposed to strengthen that tie with any of his subordinates, even if it was with the one who had been with him the longest. It shouldn’t matter that the woman kissing him senseless was the only one who had sworn to protect his life with her own and stay by his side through everything.
Hungrily, he pushed his hands underneath her jacket, fingertips grazing across the rough cotton of her blouse as they traveled upward to brush against one tender peak. His seeking was rewarded with a muffled cry as Riza’s back arched, tearing their lips apart with the sudden movement. He smiled, head reeling with the delicious power he felt as the woman before him reacted to his touch.
He’d never had a woman react so completely to him before, and he marveled that first lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, the one he could always count on to stay level headed and calm, would prove to be the most sensitive to every caress, every brush of his tongue against her lips. He was intoxicated with the elixir of her taste as he pulled her flush against him to taste those enrapturing lips with his own once more, trapping his kneading hand between their bodies.
It was the moaning of his name that brought him to his senses. It wasn’t Colonel Mustang or any derivation of that, but rather the sensual whisper of his first name, ‘Roy’ that doused his ardor and reminded him that this wasn’t how his first lieutenant was supposed to act.
She was supposed to reject every advance, taking it as a joke but appreciating the underlying message beneath it. She was supposed to walk away when he plied her lips with his own in a drunken stupor, hidden in an alleyway or on a stake-out. She wasn’t supposed to initiate kisses or run her hands down his chest, working the ties of his trousers loose, and making him moan in anticipation of those eager hands rubbing against him down there.
“Hawkeye,” he groaned, stilling her hands with his own, fighting for control as his brain worked feverishly to understand what was going on, to put it in context with the events of the day and the realization that he had been duped from the very beginning. Thoughts of a homunculus and the utter corruptness of the upper military ranks nearly forced every last vestige of desire from his body.
But then she spoke, and he was lost in a cloud of overwhelming sensuality.
“Riza,” she murmured, tugging her fingers away as she shrugged out of her jacket that had mysteriously become unbuttoned, revealing the translucent cotton shirt beneath, already moist with the heat of her ardor.
“Riza” he whispered back as his eyes followed the downward sweep of her jacket as it fell to the floor. Dragging his gaze upwards, he found himself staring into her brown eyes. The guarded fear shining back at him nearly floored him. Cupping her jaw in his hands, he couldn’t help but give her one more kiss. It was gentle and sweet, and filled with all the reassurances he wanted to give to the bravest person he had ever known, outside of perhaps Ed and Al.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said softly, breath mingling with hers as he rested his forehead against her own while his lungs labored to relieve the beating of his heart.
“I know, but I want to,” she sighed, running a hand through the coarse strands of his hair. “Tomorrow, I’ll be the personal assistant to King Bradley, but right now, I have no superior officer. I am merely Riza Hawkeye, and you are only Roy Mustang.” She lifted her eyes to his, foreheads still touching. Sincerity blazed in them as well as the banked flames of her desire.
“Just for tonight,” she whispered again, fingers tugging on the captured strands of hair as she brought her lips closer to his. “Just for one night, I don’t want you to worry about me or the others.”
She brushed her lips against his, tongue tracing the tender flesh of his lower lip.
“Tonight, I don’t want to worry about all the trouble you’ll get yourself into while I’m stuck playing assistant to King Bradley. I want to know that you’ll be safe tonight, Roy.”
With a groan, he threaded his fingers into Riza’s blond hair, tugging away the barrette that kept the tresses pinned neatly to her scalp. Taking control, he walked her backwards to her bed in the corner, helping her to remove his shirt while ravaging her lips, caressing her skin beneath the blouse now only tucked in along one side. Knees hitting the edge, they fell in a tangle to the covers, lost in each other and unwilling to give up their last sunset as an unstoppable team.
In the morning, there would be no regrets. Only a lasting nostalgia for a single night spent exploring, etching the feel of skin and hands and lips and sensation into their memories. It would be one night only to last them through the trials ahead, forced apart by the enemy. A single, beautiful sunset would have to last them until they at last could watch the sun rise on a military without King Bradley and his willing minions.