Fic - A Better Fate Than Wisdom
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing/Characters: Roy/Riza
Content Advisory: Sex
Words: 1,718
Summary: This is all taking a bit of getting used to. Post-canon, shortly after the move back east.
With thanks to certain people who know who they are for bullying me egging me on.
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
...
we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
- e.e. cummings
Riza pushes the door to Roy's quarters open very carefully, heart still pounding in her chest though there isn't a sound in the corridor outside. Two wavering gas lamps light the little sitting room and Roy is half-curled around a book on the nearest of a pair of puffy armchairs. He looks up and almost drops the book but a broad smile spreads across his face.
"Hello."
"Evening," she says. It's still strange not to make herself follow it with 'sir'. Roy stands up and closes the distance between them in two short, half-stumbling strides, and his hands come up to cup her face before he kisses her.
It hasn't even been a week and Riza still can't quite process this, that she can be standing here kissing him with her arms sliding around his waist, their stomachs pressed together and his faint evening stubble at the edges of her lips. She can feel Roy trembling ever so slightly, his thumbs moving softly across her face. This is too new still, too fragile to really grasp.
"I don't have a sitting room," she says eventually, their cheeks pressed together and both of them breathing hard. Roy chuckles.
"Benefits of rank." He doesn't try to move out of her arms but leans and reaches around her a little to lock the door. The officers' barracks, unlike the enlisted mens', are not patrolled at night, but they've spent the best part of a decade looking over their shoulders and this is just another secret to add in. Roy makes a soft, wordless sound and Riza presses her lips to his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. She's already losing track of how many times she's kissed him.
When they break apart they stare at one another a little awkwardly. It's been a long time since Riza has done this with anyone- longer, she thinks, for Roy- and it's not as if she can really even compare anyway. After a little while Roy drops his gaze and says, blushing, "I have a bedroom too."
Riza's laugh comes out tight with nerves and excitement. "Okay."
"If you wanted to..."
"Yes," she says, "yes," and he smiles that wide, unguarded smile again and she can feel her own grin threatening.
The bedroom is larger and better furnished than hers but this is still a single officer's quarters and she tumbles him into the narrow bed with a chuckle. Roy seems to have adopted a very minimalist style of unpacking, two boxes and an open suitcase the only real signs of any habitation.
"You're a bad influence," he says when he sees her looking.
"Really?" She lingers over his first three shirt buttons, fingertips teasing the skin underneath. Roy breathes in raggedly.
"A very bad influence."
It's all still unfamiliar, the way his hands feel against her bare skin, trying to shuck off clothing without letting go of one another, the little sounds he makes when she presses her mouth to his neck, his collarbone, the hesitant motions of his fingers through her hair. Riza has spent more than half her life with him, she knows his little quirks and mannerisms as well as her own, but this is still startlingly new. Roy mumbles something she can't quite hear and kisses his way down between her breasts as he tugs her bra off and she kneads his shoulders, his skin already hot under her hands.
Halfway down her stomach she feels Roy's tongue tracing tiny circles and she bites her lip; he lifts his head to ask breathlessly, "Do you want...?"
"Yes," she says, probably far too quickly, but Roy only nuzzles her stomach and presses on, his hands fiddling with her trouser buttons.
"These are difficult to take off another person," he mutters. Riza slides a hand out of his hair to try to help, although Roy insists on pressing kisses along her knuckles that are something of a distraction. The buttons eventually, reluctantly come free and Roy tugs her trousers and underwear down and off with impressive alacrity. He kisses her inner thigh and pauses, looking up at her with wide, dark eyes, and every syllable catches in her throat.
Riza has imagined this, more times over the long, long years than she'd be willing to count, imagined his warm hands and his breath against her skin and his mouth, but it hardly compares. She digs her fingers into the sheets, fighting the urge to press them into his scalp. Roy is slow and careful, so careful, glancing up every so often to gauge her reactions.
"Like this?" he whispers, the words electric. Riza wets her lips.
"Up a little and- there, god-" her breath comes out in a rush and she's bracing her heels against the mattress. His mouth is still working patiently and she tries to keep a hold of herself. "You can be- faster, I-" she twists the sheet in her hand "- right there, perfect, fuck-"
Roy makes his way back up slowly, after, and she eases up onto her side to give him room on the narrow bed. His kiss is lazy and satisfied, his arms sliding around her before the tremors have quite subsided.
"You're still wearing trousers," Riza says after a little while, their mouths barely an inch apart.
"Observant."
"I don't think there's any need for them." She traces her hands lightly down his ribcage, slowing over the smooth scar tissue on his left side; she presses her palm flat, careful, to it before moving down to his half-unbuttoned fly. Underneath he's hot and hard against her hands and she smiles as he kisses her with sudden urgency, their teeth bumping and his breathing rough and short.
When she's divested Roy of the last of his clothes she rolls him onto his back and straddles him and his hands settle around her hips. Riza traces little patterns across his chest with her fingertips.
"Is this how-?"
"Yes," he blurts, and then flushes red, the colour spreading down his neck. She watches his throat bob as he swallows. "I want you."
Perhaps there will be some point in the future where she gets used to this, where the look in his eyes doesn't send shivers across her skin, where she doesn't want to clutch him to herself and thank some deity she doesn't really believe in that he's still alive and whole. Riza has spent years convincing herself she could never touch him and in the last four days she's woken up twice with his dark head beside her on the pillow.
"Are you all right?" Roy's voice is soft with concern and he pulls the pillows behind him with one hand to prop himself up a little. She kisses his forehead and the side of his nose.
"Wonderful," she mumbles and as their mouths meet, messily, backs arched, she takes him in hand and guides herself down. His fingertips press into her skin, little disjointed syllables slipping out of his mouth.
It's not fireworks or poetry or anything else grandiose and meaningless; it's him and their bodies moving together, every slick motion and tiny sound in his throat, every flutter of his eyelashes and bead of sweat under her hands. He's touching her with fingers as careful as his mouth, his eyes hooded with desire, and she wants to forget everything beyond the edges of the bed, forget where she ends and he begins. There's quiet all around them, darkness under the door.
Roy leans his forehead against her shoulder and she clutches at his back, her fingernails pressing into his skin. In between his short, sharp breaths she hears him muttering, "Riza, Riza," and she feels herself coming apart.
"The next time we have to stay in barracks you should ask for better quarters."
"I don't think I can put in a request for a bigger bed." Roy's fingers trace a dramatic gesture against her back. "'Special requirements: an extra bookshelf and a bed with room for my- with room for two."
"Shame." Riza wiggles her toes, her left leg caught between both of his. Roy makes a little noise of half-assent at the back of his throat.
"I don't really mind." He pulls her a little closer, head dipping to draw his lips across her forehead. She tightens her arms around his waist.
"Mmhmm." She won't be able to stay for more than a few hours but he's warm and close and there are two locked doors at her back; it's safe enough for now. Roy's kisses wander down from her temple and she tilts her head to meet him, his mouth moving slow and soft against hers. Afterwards he starts carefully tucking her hair behind one ear, a few strands at a time
"Won't be here much longer in any case."
Riza turns her head under his fingers. "That depends on how busy we are in the office. Neither of us might have a lot of time to go flat-hunting."
Roy huffs, "True," but then a grin creeps across his face and he kisses her again, swiftly. "You're not getting a taste for sneaking around, are you?"
"Perhaps." She walks her fingers slowly up his spine, watching his eyes darken. "We might have to do quite a bit of it."
"Oh, such a shame," he whispers and there's really nothing she can do with the look on his face but kiss him again. Roy makes a little groaning noise in the back of his throat and rakes his hand through her hair. When they break apart he breathes in hard and asks, "When will you have to leave?"
"Early enough that I don't risk waking anyone. Not right away."
"Good." He pulls her closer again, hands sliding further down her back, and she can feel his stomach brushing against hers with every breath. "I really-" he swallows "-this is, um, nice."
Riza is warm all over from the closeness of his body, his breathing a constant rhythm in her ear, and she feels like an adjective several magnitudes greater is in order but she can't quite say it either. "Really nice."
"We don't have to sleep just yet," Roy murmurs, resting his forehead against hers. Riza feels his ribs rising and falling under her hands.
"Not yet," she echoes, and kisses him.
Pairing/Characters: Roy/Riza
Content Advisory: Sex
Words: 1,718
Summary: This is all taking a bit of getting used to. Post-canon, shortly after the move back east.
With thanks to certain people who know who they are for bullying me egging me on.
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
...
we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
- e.e. cummings
Riza pushes the door to Roy's quarters open very carefully, heart still pounding in her chest though there isn't a sound in the corridor outside. Two wavering gas lamps light the little sitting room and Roy is half-curled around a book on the nearest of a pair of puffy armchairs. He looks up and almost drops the book but a broad smile spreads across his face.
"Hello."
"Evening," she says. It's still strange not to make herself follow it with 'sir'. Roy stands up and closes the distance between them in two short, half-stumbling strides, and his hands come up to cup her face before he kisses her.
It hasn't even been a week and Riza still can't quite process this, that she can be standing here kissing him with her arms sliding around his waist, their stomachs pressed together and his faint evening stubble at the edges of her lips. She can feel Roy trembling ever so slightly, his thumbs moving softly across her face. This is too new still, too fragile to really grasp.
"I don't have a sitting room," she says eventually, their cheeks pressed together and both of them breathing hard. Roy chuckles.
"Benefits of rank." He doesn't try to move out of her arms but leans and reaches around her a little to lock the door. The officers' barracks, unlike the enlisted mens', are not patrolled at night, but they've spent the best part of a decade looking over their shoulders and this is just another secret to add in. Roy makes a soft, wordless sound and Riza presses her lips to his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. She's already losing track of how many times she's kissed him.
When they break apart they stare at one another a little awkwardly. It's been a long time since Riza has done this with anyone- longer, she thinks, for Roy- and it's not as if she can really even compare anyway. After a little while Roy drops his gaze and says, blushing, "I have a bedroom too."
Riza's laugh comes out tight with nerves and excitement. "Okay."
"If you wanted to..."
"Yes," she says, "yes," and he smiles that wide, unguarded smile again and she can feel her own grin threatening.
The bedroom is larger and better furnished than hers but this is still a single officer's quarters and she tumbles him into the narrow bed with a chuckle. Roy seems to have adopted a very minimalist style of unpacking, two boxes and an open suitcase the only real signs of any habitation.
"You're a bad influence," he says when he sees her looking.
"Really?" She lingers over his first three shirt buttons, fingertips teasing the skin underneath. Roy breathes in raggedly.
"A very bad influence."
It's all still unfamiliar, the way his hands feel against her bare skin, trying to shuck off clothing without letting go of one another, the little sounds he makes when she presses her mouth to his neck, his collarbone, the hesitant motions of his fingers through her hair. Riza has spent more than half her life with him, she knows his little quirks and mannerisms as well as her own, but this is still startlingly new. Roy mumbles something she can't quite hear and kisses his way down between her breasts as he tugs her bra off and she kneads his shoulders, his skin already hot under her hands.
Halfway down her stomach she feels Roy's tongue tracing tiny circles and she bites her lip; he lifts his head to ask breathlessly, "Do you want...?"
"Yes," she says, probably far too quickly, but Roy only nuzzles her stomach and presses on, his hands fiddling with her trouser buttons.
"These are difficult to take off another person," he mutters. Riza slides a hand out of his hair to try to help, although Roy insists on pressing kisses along her knuckles that are something of a distraction. The buttons eventually, reluctantly come free and Roy tugs her trousers and underwear down and off with impressive alacrity. He kisses her inner thigh and pauses, looking up at her with wide, dark eyes, and every syllable catches in her throat.
Riza has imagined this, more times over the long, long years than she'd be willing to count, imagined his warm hands and his breath against her skin and his mouth, but it hardly compares. She digs her fingers into the sheets, fighting the urge to press them into his scalp. Roy is slow and careful, so careful, glancing up every so often to gauge her reactions.
"Like this?" he whispers, the words electric. Riza wets her lips.
"Up a little and- there, god-" her breath comes out in a rush and she's bracing her heels against the mattress. His mouth is still working patiently and she tries to keep a hold of herself. "You can be- faster, I-" she twists the sheet in her hand "- right there, perfect, fuck-"
Roy makes his way back up slowly, after, and she eases up onto her side to give him room on the narrow bed. His kiss is lazy and satisfied, his arms sliding around her before the tremors have quite subsided.
"You're still wearing trousers," Riza says after a little while, their mouths barely an inch apart.
"Observant."
"I don't think there's any need for them." She traces her hands lightly down his ribcage, slowing over the smooth scar tissue on his left side; she presses her palm flat, careful, to it before moving down to his half-unbuttoned fly. Underneath he's hot and hard against her hands and she smiles as he kisses her with sudden urgency, their teeth bumping and his breathing rough and short.
When she's divested Roy of the last of his clothes she rolls him onto his back and straddles him and his hands settle around her hips. Riza traces little patterns across his chest with her fingertips.
"Is this how-?"
"Yes," he blurts, and then flushes red, the colour spreading down his neck. She watches his throat bob as he swallows. "I want you."
Perhaps there will be some point in the future where she gets used to this, where the look in his eyes doesn't send shivers across her skin, where she doesn't want to clutch him to herself and thank some deity she doesn't really believe in that he's still alive and whole. Riza has spent years convincing herself she could never touch him and in the last four days she's woken up twice with his dark head beside her on the pillow.
"Are you all right?" Roy's voice is soft with concern and he pulls the pillows behind him with one hand to prop himself up a little. She kisses his forehead and the side of his nose.
"Wonderful," she mumbles and as their mouths meet, messily, backs arched, she takes him in hand and guides herself down. His fingertips press into her skin, little disjointed syllables slipping out of his mouth.
It's not fireworks or poetry or anything else grandiose and meaningless; it's him and their bodies moving together, every slick motion and tiny sound in his throat, every flutter of his eyelashes and bead of sweat under her hands. He's touching her with fingers as careful as his mouth, his eyes hooded with desire, and she wants to forget everything beyond the edges of the bed, forget where she ends and he begins. There's quiet all around them, darkness under the door.
Roy leans his forehead against her shoulder and she clutches at his back, her fingernails pressing into his skin. In between his short, sharp breaths she hears him muttering, "Riza, Riza," and she feels herself coming apart.
"The next time we have to stay in barracks you should ask for better quarters."
"I don't think I can put in a request for a bigger bed." Roy's fingers trace a dramatic gesture against her back. "'Special requirements: an extra bookshelf and a bed with room for my- with room for two."
"Shame." Riza wiggles her toes, her left leg caught between both of his. Roy makes a little noise of half-assent at the back of his throat.
"I don't really mind." He pulls her a little closer, head dipping to draw his lips across her forehead. She tightens her arms around his waist.
"Mmhmm." She won't be able to stay for more than a few hours but he's warm and close and there are two locked doors at her back; it's safe enough for now. Roy's kisses wander down from her temple and she tilts her head to meet him, his mouth moving slow and soft against hers. Afterwards he starts carefully tucking her hair behind one ear, a few strands at a time
"Won't be here much longer in any case."
Riza turns her head under his fingers. "That depends on how busy we are in the office. Neither of us might have a lot of time to go flat-hunting."
Roy huffs, "True," but then a grin creeps across his face and he kisses her again, swiftly. "You're not getting a taste for sneaking around, are you?"
"Perhaps." She walks her fingers slowly up his spine, watching his eyes darken. "We might have to do quite a bit of it."
"Oh, such a shame," he whispers and there's really nothing she can do with the look on his face but kiss him again. Roy makes a little groaning noise in the back of his throat and rakes his hand through her hair. When they break apart he breathes in hard and asks, "When will you have to leave?"
"Early enough that I don't risk waking anyone. Not right away."
"Good." He pulls her closer again, hands sliding further down her back, and she can feel his stomach brushing against hers with every breath. "I really-" he swallows "-this is, um, nice."
Riza is warm all over from the closeness of his body, his breathing a constant rhythm in her ear, and she feels like an adjective several magnitudes greater is in order but she can't quite say it either. "Really nice."
"We don't have to sleep just yet," Roy murmurs, resting his forehead against hers. Riza feels his ribs rising and falling under her hands.
"Not yet," she echoes, and kisses him.