Jump [FMA, Hawkeye/Havoc]
Title: Jump
Author: scathachdhu
Rating: R
Warnings: Sexual references and language
Word Count: ~800
A/N: Thanks to angstymcgoth for the beta; any remaining mistakes are my own.
Prompt: Fullmetal Alchemist, Hawkeye/Havoc: dominatrix - She says jump, he says how high.
He'd heard there were usually leashes or restraints of some kind involved, but she didn't use any of that. She didn't make him crawl on the floor, or bark like a dog, or call her weird names. It was her implacable will and the promise of her luscious body that kept him in line, and she knew well how to utilize them both.
"If at any time I am dissatisfied with your performance or your obedience, I will leave. Do you understand?"
Jean swallowed and nodded, not sure if he was supposed to speak.
Riza held his gaze another few moments before taking a few steps backward and sitting on the bed. "Remove your clothes. You may keep your underwear."
She'd obviously dressed to test the limits of his self-control, in a fitted, dark green shirt that exposed the upper curves of her breasts and a tan, knee-length skirt slit up one thigh. As he watched, she crossed her legs, making the slit ride even higher.
He nodded again, pulling his t-shirt over his head before bending to undo the laces on his shoes. He went to kick them away out of habit, but one look at Riza and he picked them up, turning and placing them against the wall behind him. He unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down over his legs before setting them next to his shoes.
As he straightened, she'd moved to stand in front of him once again. Jean swallowed, his eyes fixed at a point over her shoulder, unsure whether or not she would allow eye contact.
"Look at me."
He dropped his gaze to hers; her eyes were calm, her mouth pursed slightly.
She reached out, palming him through his boxers. On her instruction, he'd worn silk, and the material whispered across his already half-hard cock. He locked his legs to keep from pushing against her hand; moving before she said would be really, really bad.
"During this evening," she began, "you may speak unless I tell you otherwise, but you are to take no independent actions."
She paused and gave him an expectant look. "Ah, I understand," he said hastily, folding his arms behind him in reflex.
Riza raised an eyebrow; he'd messed up already. "You don't sound certain, Second Lieutenant. You move only," she tightened her hand over him, "when I tell you to move. Is that clear?"
"Yes!" he said, fervently. Fuck, yes. Shit.
She held his eyes another few moments, then nodded, releasing him. Her skin was soft against his sides as she slid her arms around his waist, dipping her hands below the band of his underwear. Her short, blunt nails scraped over his buttocks as she pushed the boxers over his hips and down his legs. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, sinking to the ground until she knelt in front of him, the scrap of black fabric puddled at his feet. He bit back a groan at the sight.
Her head snapped up, and she stood once again with a frown. "You're here for my pleasure; isn't that right?"
Man, had he fucked up again already? "Yes." He knew the answer to that at least.
"I want to hear you." She brushed a thumb over his mouth. "Now. Step out of them."
"Ma'am," he said, kicking the boxers behind him without looking.
"Lay on the bed, on your back. Hands flat at your sides."
He immediately obeyed, right before she placed a knee on the bed, swinging her other leg over to straddle his hips. Jean frowned; she was still wearing all her clothes, and she'd neither told him to undress her nor made any sign she planned to do it herself.
Not that he was objecting to the way her skirt slid up the slope of her thighs, especially since the side with the slit bared her leg all the way up to the hip.
"Remember," she said, coming up on her knees, "stay still until I tell you." She took one of his hands, placing it above her knee before sliding it up the inside of her thigh.
"Oh, God," Jean said a moment later, his voice faint. "You're not wearing panties." And apparently hadn't been for a while.
She raised an eyebrow. "That's correct. This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"
"No." He hoped she wouldn't count his shaking against him; he wasn't actually sure he could stop that.
"Good. If I have to stop because you've disobeyed me, it will be unpleasant for both of us." Riza's hair tickled his collarbone as she leaned over him and her breath was warm against his mouth as she braced her hands on either side of his head.
"But have no doubt," she murmured, "...I'll make sure it's worse for you."
Author: scathachdhu
Rating: R
Warnings: Sexual references and language
Word Count: ~800
A/N: Thanks to angstymcgoth for the beta; any remaining mistakes are my own.
Prompt: Fullmetal Alchemist, Hawkeye/Havoc: dominatrix - She says jump, he says how high.
He'd heard there were usually leashes or restraints of some kind involved, but she didn't use any of that. She didn't make him crawl on the floor, or bark like a dog, or call her weird names. It was her implacable will and the promise of her luscious body that kept him in line, and she knew well how to utilize them both.
"If at any time I am dissatisfied with your performance or your obedience, I will leave. Do you understand?"
Jean swallowed and nodded, not sure if he was supposed to speak.
Riza held his gaze another few moments before taking a few steps backward and sitting on the bed. "Remove your clothes. You may keep your underwear."
She'd obviously dressed to test the limits of his self-control, in a fitted, dark green shirt that exposed the upper curves of her breasts and a tan, knee-length skirt slit up one thigh. As he watched, she crossed her legs, making the slit ride even higher.
He nodded again, pulling his t-shirt over his head before bending to undo the laces on his shoes. He went to kick them away out of habit, but one look at Riza and he picked them up, turning and placing them against the wall behind him. He unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down over his legs before setting them next to his shoes.
As he straightened, she'd moved to stand in front of him once again. Jean swallowed, his eyes fixed at a point over her shoulder, unsure whether or not she would allow eye contact.
"Look at me."
He dropped his gaze to hers; her eyes were calm, her mouth pursed slightly.
She reached out, palming him through his boxers. On her instruction, he'd worn silk, and the material whispered across his already half-hard cock. He locked his legs to keep from pushing against her hand; moving before she said would be really, really bad.
"During this evening," she began, "you may speak unless I tell you otherwise, but you are to take no independent actions."
She paused and gave him an expectant look. "Ah, I understand," he said hastily, folding his arms behind him in reflex.
Riza raised an eyebrow; he'd messed up already. "You don't sound certain, Second Lieutenant. You move only," she tightened her hand over him, "when I tell you to move. Is that clear?"
"Yes!" he said, fervently. Fuck, yes. Shit.
She held his eyes another few moments, then nodded, releasing him. Her skin was soft against his sides as she slid her arms around his waist, dipping her hands below the band of his underwear. Her short, blunt nails scraped over his buttocks as she pushed the boxers over his hips and down his legs. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, sinking to the ground until she knelt in front of him, the scrap of black fabric puddled at his feet. He bit back a groan at the sight.
Her head snapped up, and she stood once again with a frown. "You're here for my pleasure; isn't that right?"
Man, had he fucked up again already? "Yes." He knew the answer to that at least.
"I want to hear you." She brushed a thumb over his mouth. "Now. Step out of them."
"Ma'am," he said, kicking the boxers behind him without looking.
"Lay on the bed, on your back. Hands flat at your sides."
He immediately obeyed, right before she placed a knee on the bed, swinging her other leg over to straddle his hips. Jean frowned; she was still wearing all her clothes, and she'd neither told him to undress her nor made any sign she planned to do it herself.
Not that he was objecting to the way her skirt slid up the slope of her thighs, especially since the side with the slit bared her leg all the way up to the hip.
"Remember," she said, coming up on her knees, "stay still until I tell you." She took one of his hands, placing it above her knee before sliding it up the inside of her thigh.
"Oh, God," Jean said a moment later, his voice faint. "You're not wearing panties." And apparently hadn't been for a while.
She raised an eyebrow. "That's correct. This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"
"No." He hoped she wouldn't count his shaking against him; he wasn't actually sure he could stop that.
"Good. If I have to stop because you've disobeyed me, it will be unpleasant for both of us." Riza's hair tickled his collarbone as she leaned over him and her breath was warm against his mouth as she braced her hands on either side of his head.
"But have no doubt," she murmured, "...I'll make sure it's worse for you."