Games without Frontiers - Chapter 13 - Roy/Riza - Rated M/NC-17
Series Title: Games without Frontiers
Series Rating: PG - NC-17
Main Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye
Other Characters: Various other members of the Peanut Gallery called Fullmetal Alchemist
Word Count: 3,539
Warning: Some adult themes; potential overdosing of crrrrack.
Synopsis: There is never a boring day at the office with the Mustang-tachi
Author's Notes: AU because I play with the timeline. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories and plots. 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. Based roughly on both the ’03 and FMA:B. 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 13: Watch Out Here I Come
Rating: M
Beef with a side of creamed potatoes and slice carrots. No, vegetables and rice. No, noodles. Just noodles. With butter. Milk. With sugar. Crumpets with berries and cream.
“Hawkeye,” the Colonel’s voice cracked across the mental conversation her stomach was having with her. “Check with the courier and get the folders on the new transfers. I’m hearing rumors about an audit.”
An audit. Just what this office needed. Riza sighed and went and did as she was told.
Those crumpets that your grandmother used to make. Remember those?
Her stomach had making pronouncements and demands ever since midmorning. While she headed down the hall, she decided for once to respond. Grandmother is dead. You can’t have those crumpets.
That matters not. The crumpets will do just fine.
Riza called herself a fool and picked up the great satchel of files from Central.
No, what you really want, dear, is coffee. Black coffee. No cream, no sugar. Just coffee.
Riza shook her head and ignored her stomach for the rest of the way back. It was obviously delusional. Coffee, indeed. She despised coffee.
The usual folders were there, as well as the fifty new transfers. The first folder on her stack had intrigued her, though, so she shoved the others aside and opened it.
It was a dossier on new research; armor piercing, exploding rounds. How they were made, where to get them, who had invented them.
Hello, remember me? I said I wanted coffee.
She was enraptured, so she told her stomach to wait. She would go to the mess as soon as she finished the file.
Apples? How about a big piece of pie. Or cake. Yes, you want cake don’t you? No. Just coffee. Black, no cream, no sugar. Just coffee.
Riza twitched. Drinking coffee was like drinking watered down dirt. She was a tea kind of person. And when she had to endure coffee because nothing else was available, she took it with much cream and all the sugar she could put into it. Black coffee was an abomination, to be sure.
No cream. No sugar. Just the grounds and the water. Now.
She pulled at her collar and once again told her stomach to be quiet.
You be quiet. I am hungry and I want to eat now!
Her stomach took that opportunity to lurch alarmingly, as if it were going to stage a revolution and head to mess without her. She rolled her eyes and stood. “I’m going to the mess. Permission to withdraw, sir?” She asked the Colonel. He waved, not even looking up from the game of tic-tac-toe he played with himself. So much for the worries of an audit. She left what folders she could find on the corner of his desk.
She made it into the mess and into line just in time to halt the ever-increasing hunger litany. She took the meat-like substance, the starch-like substance, and the vegetable-like substance. And ignored the big drum of coffee.
She shoveled in the food without really tasting it, which was a fortunate thing. Mess food the world over tasted the same, and it was best if one could avoid actually letting the stuff touch one’s tongue. After a few moments, she noticed an odd silence and looked up to see Fuery and Breda staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Ah,” Fuery said, “You hungry, Hawkeye?”
Riza looked down. Interesting. She’d just sat down and the plate was already empty. “I suppose I was.” She looked up at them; they were still staring. “Do I have food on my face?”
“Ah...no! Not at all.” Fuery and Breda went back to their conversation, stealing quick glances in her direction, as if she were about to reach out and devour their limbs for dessert. Riza shrugged inwardly and stood.
Apparently, in the war with her stomach, standing was a tactical error. Her stomach constricted, telling her in no uncertain terms that what she had just given it was not what it wanted.
Didn’t I say I wanted coffee? Coffeeeeee Coffee-coffee-coffee. Black gold. The poor man’s wine. This isn’t coffee. Get this stuff out of here.
Scrambling, she made it to the latrine just in time.
She virtually crawled over to the mirror and looked at her bedraggled reflection in wonder. Her stomach was lined with iron. It was well known that she could eat anything in the mess and not blink twice. Many a man had tried to trick her into giving up her lunch the good old fashioned way and many a man had failed.
You know what to do, her stomach commanded. You want that to happen to you again?
Riza splashed her face, fixed her hair and walked with as much dignity as possible back to the mess. To the large drum. She grabbed a cup, mutinously poured a cup and took a sip.
Aaahhh, yes. You are forgiven.
Abomination might have been a strong word. The coffee was not as bitter as it usually was. She took another sip, then recalled that she would be wired for the rest of the day if she finished it. She considered her choices for a moment, recalled the trip to the latrine, and then downed the cup in one swallow, wincing against the burn in her throat.
Again she suffered the stares of her comrades, but this time she ignored them. There was a file waiting for her to finish.
An hour later, she sat back and rubbed the crick out of her neck, and briefly watched her left leg bounce up and down. Damned caffeine. She closed the folder, satisfied that she’d learned all she could about the new rounds. The pyrotechnics involved in those exploding rounds would put even the Colonel to shame. With more finesse and ultimate directness, these bullets would be much more effective. She would never tell him that, though. She slid a requisition form from her desk and began the process to order a test box of the new ammunition.
“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” she heard Breda say to Havoc.
Riza’s ear took a moment to attend to the conversation, then veered away when she realized that Breda was introducing a foul limerick of some kind. And of course the four cackled at the punch line as if they’d never heard it before. Teenagers, the lot of them. Even she’d heard that limerick before. Knit a sweater, indeed.
“Gentlemen, do you need something to do?” She asked and was met with sudden, guilty silence.
Her stomach was still a little wobbly from the fiasco in the mess hall. She reverently made it a promise to stay away from meat-like substances and stay closer to the coffee pot if that’s what it took. She pulled open her top left-hand drawer and rummaged for second before coming up with a cookie she’d brought from home. She opened the next folder on her desk - a less interesting personnel file - and munched slowly. The cookie was dry; it crumbled easily. She reached out with her tongue and swiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth.
And looked up as she heard the sound of a cat being strangled. She looked over at the Colonel. He was holding a folder up to his face, so she couldn’t see his expression, but she was certain that the sound had come from that direction. She certainly wasn’t losing her hearing.
There were crumbs left on her fingers, and it would have been a shame to loose such amazing cookie goodness, so she discreetly stuck the pad of her thumb in her mouth and sucked. Again, she heard that sound and again she looked up. Again, the folder was back in front of his face, but this time she was beyond doubt that it had been him. What was wrong with the man? Maybe he needed to go take a lunch himself. “Sir? Did you need something?”
Again he waved at her, but the folder never moved. She shrugged. Really. Sometimes she could find herself sympathizing with the Colonel’s parents - both natural and foster. He must have been something to behold as a child.
The phone rang, startling her. The Colonel answered, and muttered for a moments. Then she heard him curse and saw him shake his fist.
“Lieutenant Colonel, why didn’t you let me know of this before he got away? Are you slipping in your old age? Yes, well, are you positive this time?”
Riza went back to counting transfers.
“Does your daughter know how to bring Scar in? Roy barked, “No? Then leave her out of it. Dammit, Hughes! Okay, Okay, she’s an adorable flower. Now get me the information on Scar. Fine!”
“What?” the Colonel yelled. “Why send him? But, I-yes, I’d heard about the audit. Fine, I call the br-I mean Edward in. Okay, okay, yes, I know. She’s absolutely enchanting. Always has been, always will be. I’m hanging up now. Yes, I am. Goodbye!” He threw the phone back in the cradle.
“Sir, do you want to explain to the auditors why we need to requisition a new phone?”
He glared at Riza. “Hughes says he’s know exactly where Scar is hiding.”
“If anyone would know, it would be him. Still. The phone.”
“And apparently Elysia is writing a new opera.”
“She is brilliant, sir.”
“Hawkeye?”
“Yes, sir?”
“If I ever get married-,”
Riza blinked.
“--and if I ever have children, and if I ever act as psychotic as that man, I give you permission to blow my brains out.”
She didn’t even give it a second of thought. “Without hesitation, sir.”
Havoc barked a laugh from his side of the room. “You? Have children, sir? Begging your pardon, but that would be a headline for the broadsheets.” He held up his hand as if holding a paper. “Firestarter Spawns Progeny. That’s rich.”
“I’m glad you’re amused by the prospect,” the Colonel said. “That being the case, you can go amuse yourself in the records room and seek out any cases that I forgot to sign.”
Riza wanted to laugh at the look on Havoc’s face. He would be in the records room for the rest of the day. Riza gathered up the completed folders and stood.
The world suddenly pitched alarmingly to the left. Several of the folders on the top of her stack slid to the floor. She stood completely still, watching the papers spread and willing things to stop spinning long enough for her to catch her breath.
“First Lieutenant!” The Colonel was up and headed toward her, as were the others in the room. “Are you all right?”
She held up a hand. “I’m all right. I just had a battle with lunch this afternoon. Lunch won, I lost. I’m fine.”
“Told everyone to stay away from the meat-like substances,” Havoc muttered.
“And you were right,” Riza told him as she bent to pick up the folders. “These are for you, sir. There’s a dossier on a new technology - exploding rifle shells. I think you’ll find it quite interesting. I’ve also taken the liberty of ordering a box of the ammunition to sample.”
The Colonel groaned.
Relative peace remained while she listened to the Colonel’s pen scratch-scratching on paper. Whether it was truly his signature or something else, she wouldn’t be certain.
Just as she was about to check his progress through the piles a commotion entered the office that removed all though of peace and order from her mind.
The first thing she saw was Alphonse, in all of his armored glory, holding his older brother by the collar of his red greatcoat. Edward was swinging, flailing, and cursing the military at the top of his lungs.
The Colonel had stopped scribbling, and just looked up with an arched eyebrow.
Behind this hurricane of cloth and metal came Second Lieutenant Havoc, holding a haphazard pile of folders and looking as if he’d just taken a trip through the eye of said hurricane.
“Colonel!” Edward shouted, flailing impotently. “You need to have a better leash on your guard dogs!”
“Me?” Havoc yelled back. “Colonel, this… this… almost cut my damned head off with his damned… whatever the hell that is!”
“Only after you almost shot my fucking head off!”
“Fullmetal, language,” Riza tried injecting into the maelstrom. She took a second look at her comrade and noticed the thin trickle of blood going down the side of Havoc’s throat.
“Well, who the hell goes barreling through the hallways like a greased piglet at a village fair?”
“Who-you-calling-so-small-he-could-use-a-sock-for-a-sleeping-bag!”
“Bro-ther!”
“FULLMETAL!” The Colonel’s roar cut short the argument. Havoc look sheepish; Edward looked mutinous.
“In my office, both of you!” Mustang growled. “You too, Alphonse.”
Riza watched as they were marched into the Colonel’s private office. She suppressed a smile when she noticed that Roy looked like he wanted to grab Edward by his collar and march him into the office like a boy going to the headmaster’s office. She also thanked the powers that were that she hadn’t been called into that meeting. Especially after she heard Edward’s voice spouting more foul language than any person his age had any business knowing.
She enjoyed a fine dinner that night, to make up for the afternoon. The only thing missing were the crumpets that her grandmother used to make for guests. She was enjoying her meal in peace as well; she’d left Roy in the office, working late to catch up once again. The man despised audits; he hated people nosing around his office, picking on things that didn’t deserve the time that was spent on it.
As she rinsed the dishes in the sink, two hands grabbed her around the waist from behind. Riza chuckled. She’d heard him long ago, prowling across the carpet with all of the agility of a pack mule.
“That was a very lame attempt at stealth, Colonel,” she said. She continued to straighten the kitchen table, even as she felt him bend his head to her neck.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” He asked her. “I’ve never seen you sick a day in your life.”
“I’m fine. Like I said, lunch won this afternoon. I had a good dinner to make up for it.” She twisted to look at him. “Are you hungry?”
“Hm. Yes, but not for dinner.” His hands crept under the hem of her top and up. She laughed and kept working.
His thumbs swirled around her nipples as he cupped her breasts. She gasped and arched back into him, dishes suddenly forgotten. “Don’t ever lick your fingers in our office like that ever again.” he said in her ear.
“So, it was your impression of a strangled feline I he-heard...” Her skin was super-sensitive today; and she let him tease her until she trembled in his arms. One of his hands wandered down to lay flat on her stomach, holding her still, as the other tweaked and pulled at her, sending flashes of heat up and down her body. His teeth nipped at the ear closest to his lips, eliciting a moan.
When had she become so easy? She thought to herself, coming from just that stimulus, her body quaking and shivering under his assault. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, but he wordlessly let her know wasn’t done with her yet. As she floated back down to earth, he moved her, climbing onto the table, pushing things out of his way. She stood there and stared, still fuzzy. It was an interesting thing, sex with this man. Clothes seemed to have a wonderful talent for disappearing with little effort. She would have to ask him one day how he did that.
He grasped her and lifted.
“What-? Oh, Roy, are you crazy? This table won’t take our weight...”
“Trust me,” was all he said, as he pulled her into his lap. She knelt on either side of him, placing her hands on his shoulders, wondering. How he’d managed to get his trousers open and down was beyond her, especially as he was hooking his fingers in her waistband and tugging. She had to wriggle some to get them all the way down, then she kicked one leg and the other to make them go completely away. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his shoulder as she straddled him, wondering what the hell he was about to do to her. This was certainly new.
Sweet heaven... lifted her and slid into her, hot and slick and oh so deep. She couldn’t help but arch up, pulling him deeper and quivering at the moan he let loose into the quiet air. She grabbed his shirt collar with both hands and pressed her lips on his, letting his tongue do the same thing that he was doing to her. Up and down he lifted her until she picked up the rhythm. She put her hands on his shoulders and raised herself on her knees. Down she slipped over him, quiet but for low whimpers that punctuated his guttural gasps and nonsensical words. Riza watched him bang the back of his head against the wall of her kitchen in time with her movements, wincing in the back of her mind.
The table began to groan under their weight. Roy blinked to clear his mind and lifted her up and off, leaving her panting at the abandonment. “Don’t you get tired of being right?” he gasped.
“Never,” she came back, wishing he would get on with whatever he had planned.
She should have known he wouldn’t let her down. Pulling them into another position, he gently pressed on her back, and she lowered herself until her forehead almost touched the table top. Hands flat on the table for support, she waited until he slid into her from behind… and her mind tried to slither right out of her ears at the sensation. Her top half lay on the table, but his hands were in no way keeping her there. Her curiosity and the delicious feeling of him touching her so deep kept her prone. There was a vague sense of powerless but, as she squirmed against him and made his breath catch - once, twice - she realized it was a great facade. Then, it became a race to see who would make who go over the edge first.
His thrusts quickened the more she moved, his moans becoming growls, low and urgent. She whimpered once, then lost her breath again when he shoved deep and bent over her, nipping her neck lightly between his teeth. “Give it to me, Riza,” he pleaded breathlessly.
“Not until you give it to me first,” she gritted out, pushing backward.
He almost cried out, stilled for a moment, holding back. “You are a cruel, cruel woman.”
“You knew that from the beginning.”
“Oh, sweet… so sweet.”
Riza looked at him again and gave him a wicked smiled. She was nothing near sweet and he knew it. And, she could tell by the way his eyes narrowed and the muscle in his jaw worked, that it would be over soon. All she needed to do was one more thing:
“Colonel... please...”
“Oh, unfair....” With a rumble from somewhere deep inside of him, he came. As deep as he was, she could feel the pulses, and they triggered her own climax.
Panting, he leaned over her, resting his forehead on her back for a moment. “That was a low trick, Riza,” he gasped. “You don’t know how many times I pictured you saying that.”
“Probably as many times as I have,” she chuckled as her heart slowed to normal pace.
Roy laughed softly as he helped her up. “Have I corrupted you beyond repair?”
“Probably. But I wouldn’t worry.” She looked around for her pants and slipped them on. “I think I can survive this type of corruption.”
“You? Certainly.” Roy stretched, something Riza was becoming immensely fond of seeing, especially when the tails of his shirt rose up like that. “You did mention something about dinner, right?”
After she slid the tank over her head she crossed her arms across her chest. “You are not sitting at my table in that condition.” She flushed. “In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be sitting at this table to eat ever again. Take a shower.” She shook her head. “Don’t look at me like that. When you’re done, dinner is right over there,” she gestured at the stove top and turned to leave the kitchen. “You know where the plates are.”
“Hey! Aren’t you gonna...” he stumbled to a halt when she turned back with hooded lids. “Stay and watch me eat?” he finished on a weak note.
She knew what was on the tip of his tongue. Feed him her ass. “Humph. If I do that, you won’t get much eating done. I’m going to take a shower too.”
“But...?” The light dawned. “Oh!”
When he finally crawled in to curl around her, she was barely registered his weight in the bed. Her brain was twisted and sodden and called out for sleep long before he finished demolishing her kitchen - and using up all the water in her little shower.