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She can’t get it out of her head.
The war’s over. It’s been over. Edward and Alphonse got their bodies back, the Colonel got his sight back, Jean’s walking again. She almost died.
Twice.
She thought she was over it. If anyone asks, she is over it.
So she doesn’t know why Envy’s words float around in her head like a lead bobber in an empty pond.
“Would he be able to tell the difference?” Envy had asked, their voice sly as they ran one hand over their– Riza’s –body. “If I came to him like this, in the dead of night, would he know it wasn’t you?”
Would he?
She doesn’t know.
And it’s killing her.
She’s on her third? Fourth? Sleepless night and she can no longer ignore the worried looks the Colonel sends her when he catches her eye from across the room.
She knows she’s looking worse for wear, she sees the dark circles under her eyes in the bathroom mirror in the morning, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t sleep because the only thing that’s happening in her head at night is–
Would he?
She likes to think he would, she thinks she would be able to tell him apart. In fact, she had been able to tell him apart. Within seconds she had discerned that the thing in front of her wearing the Colonel’s face was in fact, not the Colonel.
She had pulled the trigger in the blink of an eye, no hesitation because she knew, every part of her knew, that wasn’t her Col–
him.
That it wasn’t him.
She’s so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t even realize it’s the end of the workday until Jean’s patting her on the shoulder as he leaves and Fuery sends her a wave from where he’s already halfway out the door. Falman and Breda having already left minutes prior it seems and she’s all too aware that it’s now just her and the Colonel alone together.
Her mask of neutrality doesn’t slip in the slightest as she rises from her chair and slowly walks up to where he’s been pretending to do his paperwork since she stood, instead having been eyeing her entire walk across the room.
It makes something inside her pleased at having his attention.
Placing the file gently onto his desk, she mumbles a quiet “goodnight” and turns to leave before her wrist is caught in his calloused hand. His grip loose and gentle, as if afraid he would hurt her if he held on tighter.
“Lieutenant,” he begins, voice a pleasant rumble that leaves her skin itchy as he slides his hand from her wrist to cradle her smaller hand in his wide palm. “Riza,” this time, her skin burns. “Are you doing alright?”
Her eyes soften at the genuine concern bleeding into his voice, at the pleading look in his eyes as he looks up at her. It’s a good look on him, this openness, and it melts something inside her.
“I’m fine, Colonel,” she soothes, gripping his hand tight before she slips her fingers from his own. His hand clenches around the air where she just was, and his hand remains frozen for a moment before he lowers it back to his desk. “Just…haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Is there anything I can do?” He tries again to get to the full truth, but she knows she can’t tell him. She won’t, no matter how his eyes beg her to. “You can talk to me about anything.”
“I know,” she smiles gently and she watches as his own face breaks into a small smile. She raps her knuckles against his desk twice before she turns and heads back to her own desk. Pulling her jacket on and grabbing her bag, all the while feeling his gaze burn into the back of her head.
“If you ever need anything, I–”
“You’re here,” she finishes for him, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she makes for the door. “I know.”
And as hard as it is to do, as much as she wants to turn around and empty everything that’s been in her head since the Promised Day, she leaves and doesn’t look back.
“If you ever need anything, I-”
Groaning, she pulls herself from her bed and catches the time from the clock illuminated on her nightstand as she makes her way to the bathroom.
02:04 am.
Another sleepless night.
Splashing her face with cold water, she catches the stare of her reflection in the mirror and holds it.
Now, she’s not a shallow person. She knows, objectively, that she’s good-looking. She’s been on a number of dates with a number of men who have told her as such. Her father always told her she looked just like her mother, and from the pictures she’s seen of her, she knows she was beautiful. Rebecca fawns over her every chance she gets and as much as Rebecca likes to tease, she knows she’s being truthful.
And she doesn’t know if it’s the fifth sleepless night in a row or if it’s the moonlight shining through the bathroom window, but tonight she sees herself and realizes that she’s indeed beautiful.
Her hair falls over her shoulders in waves that brush the middle of her back, and even though she’s in desperate need of a haircut, she never thought she’d like herself with long hair so much.
Her sleep shirt, two sizes too big, hangs off of one shoulder and just barely touches the tops of her thighs. If she lifts her arms in the slightest, she can catch a glimpse of her panties and when she turns, she can see how nicely they hug her ass.
Raising a hand to cup a breast, she imagines it’s Roy’s hand upon her and she closes her eyes at the touch.
Would he think she’s beautiful?
Would he?
Does he?
She gasps without meaning to and rips her hand away, as if burned.
Ashamed, she shuffles back into her bed and curls up on top of her comforter, arms wrapped around her core that aches at the thought of him.
She knows she shouldn’t. It’s so, so wrong.
But she also remembers the way he held her, remembers how he looked at her since before the Promised Day, on the Promised Day, and every day since.
She knows how badly her body aches for him.
She knows she could pick him out in a crowd, could know him if she was the one that lost her sight, could tell when something that’s wearing his face isn’t him.
She thinks about his hand in hers, thinks about how gently he touches her, and she lowers her hand until it's slipping past the hem of her panties and touching herself.
She gasps at her first brush of fingertips against her clit.
It’s been…a while.
Too long, in fact, if the way she gets so wound up so fast is any hint.
And even though the angle's just right, the feeling is all wrong. His fingers would be bigger, warmer, she thinks he would know her inside and out, despite never being…well…inside her like this.
But pleasure is pleasure, she knows this well, and she gets lost in the feeling and lost in her head as she closes her eyes and moans his name.
She gets right up to the edge, one foot already stepping off, when her telephone rings.
She whines, upset, and with her head still cloudy from the ruined orgasm, she uses her free hand to wrestle with the phone until it’s pressed to her ear.
“What?" She bites, borderline whines, and she has half a mind to continue when she doesn’t get an immediate answer when a familiar voice cuts through her desires.
“Riza?”
All at once, she comes back to herself and she sits up fast enough that she gets dizzy.
Because it’s Roy.
Whipping her head around, she sees that it’s now 02:41 am and her lust fades to worry at why he’s calling at such an hour.
“Roy?” She whispers, voice still unsteady and she clears her throat before continuing. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing’s wrong!” He sounds frantic on the other side of the phone and she frowns at his next words. “Are you okay? You sound–uh…nevermind. Is now a good time?”
No. It’s probably the furthest from being a good time, but she’s not about to tell him that.
Not about to tell him why.
“Yes, it’s fine. What are you doing calling me at 3 am?”
Roy lets out a sigh at that and she can hear him fiddling with something on the other end.
“It’s just…I’m worried about you. You look like you haven’t slept in a week and…” he takes a shaky breath and Riza presses the phone closer to her ear to hear him better. “I woke up a little while ago and felt like something was wrong. I just had to know…that you were okay.”
He’s always been attuned to her, has always known when she needed him, but this is a little uncanny.
She doesn’t know if it’s the pleasure that lingers in the back of her mind or the minutes slowly ticking by, but her next words come out without thought, or reason at that.
“Would you know if it was me?”
He’s silent for a moment before “Uh…what?”
Flustered by her lack of eloquence, she’s quick to explain herself.
“Envy, they…” at her mention of Envy, Roy sucks in a breath that he doesn’t let out. “They said something to me that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. So…would you know that it wasn’t me? If it wasn’t really me?”
“You’re asking if Envy had turned into you, would I have known the difference between you two?”
Bingo.
Embarrassment floods her system at hearing her insecurities out loud, at having let Envy get under her skin like this, and almost hangs up the phone right then and there when he starts speaking again.
“Riza,” and this time, he sounds fond. “Of course I’d be able to tell. I would know you in death, I would know you blind. I did. When the world was falling down around us and I had no way to see, you knelt in front of me and I knew right away that you were there. That you weren’t going anywhere. That…” he trails off and coughs, covering his embarrassment. “That everything was going to be okay.”
“Roy,” she breathes out, finally lowering herself back onto her bed. Her hair fans out on her pillow and she feels like a teenager again. “Thank you.”
“Was that really what was bothering you? This whole time?” He asks curiously and she can hear him getting comfortable as well, the rustling of his sheets makes the fire inside her burn once again.
“Maybe,” she replies, refusing to let him get the better of her.
He hums sympathetically and she flushes at the sound so close to her ear.
“What were you doing up at 3 am?” He asks next, and this time it sounds mischievous and it sounds teasing and it sounds so, so soft.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” She replies, equally as teasing and equally as soft.
“None of my–I wake up in the dead of night with my mind convinced something’s happened to you and when you answer the phone you sound like–” There’s an audible snap as he closes his mouth hard enough for his teeth to clack.
“Like what?” She deadpans.
“Like…” There’s the rustling of his sheets once again as he exhales shakily. “What are you wearing?”
Oh.
So they’re doing this.
She must take too long to answer because he sounds frantic when he speaks again.
“You–you don’t have to answer that! God, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have asked that! What was I–Good night Lieutenant–”
“A t-shirt,” she interrupts before he can hang up the phone, refusing to let this moment pass. She’s waited too long for this, wanted this for too long to let it go without a fight. “And panties.”
She bites her lip at his choked gasp.
“Really?” He whispers, amazed.
“Mmh,” she hums, lowering a hand to brush against her lower stomach. “What about you?”
“Boxers,” he chokes out as if the air’s been punched from his lungs. “Riza, are you–is this–”
Really happening?
“Yes,” she gasps out as she teases herself through her soaked underwear and the soft moan he lets out at her own sounds has a whine building in her throat.
“Am I dreaming?” He breathes out and he sounds so dazed she can’t help the laugh that escapes her.
“No, Colonel. You’re not dreaming.”
“Call me Roy, again.” He gasps, desperation seeping into his voice and into her veins. “Please.”
“Okay, Roy.” She whispers and delights at the sound he makes.
“God Riza, you’re going to kill me.”
“After everything we’ve been through, this is what kills you?”
“This being you, then yes. Riza, I–” he trails off and she pauses her teasing at how serious he sounds. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted you for so long.”
“How long?” She asks in wonder.
“Pretty much since the moment I first saw you.”
She swallows hard enough for it to be audible and she can hear his harsh pants in her blood.
“Come over,” she demands, her tone leaving no room for arguments. “Now.”
“I’ll be there in ten.” He promises, sounding unlike anything Riza’s ever heard.
He’s there in five, despite living fifteen minutes away.
And he’s barely through the door before Riza’s pressing him against the wall and kissing him.
He’s thrown on a soft blue shirt and flannel pants and he kisses her like he’s waited his entire life for this moment.
And he kinda has.
Fiddling with the door handle, he ensures it’s locked before kissing her once, twice, three times, before pulling back to look at her.
Her pupils are blown wide, once brown eyes now an eclipse. Her hair falls down her back like waves and his mouth waters at her pale shoulder that her too large t-shirt has freed. Collarbones are fully on display and looking even further down, he chokes on air when he sees that her shirt leaves nothing to the imagination.
She graciously allows him a minute of drowning in her before her impatience gets the better of her and she’s pulling him into a bruising kiss. Nipping at his bottom lip, she doesn't even need to ask for permission before he’s opening for her, his tongue brushing against hers as he whines into her mouth.
Trailing a gentle hand down her body, he hooks a hand behind the back of her thigh before pulling her flush against him, moaning as he feels how wet she is against him.
As if he’s much better.
“Riza,” he pants against her skin, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against her neck. He ruts against her desperately and he can feel the smile she hides in the top of his head, her fingers smoothing the back of his hair, no doubt a mess of bedhead.
“Riza, I–”
“Shh,” she soothes, her fingernails scratching at his scalp as she slips both of her legs around his waist, who lifts her easily. “I’ve got you.”
He trips a total of three times in his haste to get to her bed and once he’s laid her down, she wastes no time in shucking her shirt over her head, flinging it inconsequentially across her bedroom.
He stops midway through his own disrobing and stands frozen, unable to pull his eyes away from her.
The moonlight slips through the cheap blinds, hiding nothing. Her blonde hair fans around her like a halo and wings and her chest heaves from where she pants below him. Flushed red down to the tops of her shoulders, her breasts move with the movement of her breathing and he stares, unblinking, as he traces her body with his eyes.
Traveling further, the only piece of clothing on her is her soaked underwear, doing nothing to hide how badly she wants this. Wants him.
“Roy,” she chastises, breaking him from his thoughts and when he raises his eyes to meet her gaze, he’s borderline hysterical at the quirk of her brow and slight smirk.
He’s so in love with her.
“Fuck–Riza, I–You’re so–” unable to form a single sentence, his thoughts are an endless stream of nothing but her. He watches in real time as he eyes soften at his ridiculousness and he goes easily when she beckons him closer.
Her hands help him undress until he’s similarly left in only his underwear, which also does nothing to hide his want for her.
She stares openly at the tent in his boxers and slowly raises her pelvis until it brushes against his.
The moan he lets out is embarrassingly broken and inappropriately loud for it to be nearing 4 am.
When he asks her if he can touch her, she’s nodding before he’s even gotten the full question out.
Extending a shaky hand, he gently cups one breast in his wide palm and shudders at the gasp she lets out, head lolling to the side as she watches him through half-lidded eyes.
“How could I ever not know you?” He asks breathlessly, helpless under her stare. Lowering himself onto her, she parts her thighs and allows him to settle until he’s rocking against her. She locks her ankles behind the small of his back and pulls him impossibly closer.
His hand that’s not occupied with her breast cups the side of her face and relishes in the moans she lets out. He watches her until his eyes go dry before he blinks as quickly as he can and goes back to staring, not wanting to miss a second of this.
“You’re everything to me, Riza.” He pants out against her lips, almost going cross eyed in his attempt to keep looking at her as she pulls him into a kiss. “God, you’re–you’re everything. I love you.”
He doesn’t mean to confess like this, rutting against her like a dog in heat, but that doesn’t mean he means it any less.
Riza whines at that, high and long and Roy feels himself twitch at the sound. He pulls his aching need away from her lest he finish before she does. And in his boxers, no less.
“I love you," she gasps into his open mouth. They’re not kissing at this point, more like breathing each other in over and over again, and Roy fixes this with a firm press of his lips against hers, tonguing into her mouth as if depraved.
“Fuck me,” she begs once they’ve pulled back for air. Grinding up against him, she drags her nails down his back and he drops his head against her shoulder with a groan. “Roy, please.”
“Anything you want, baby.” He doesn’t quite know where the pet name comes from, some part of him he’s suppressed for years now probably, but she shivers at the word and he takes note of that.
Rising onto his knees, he watches her watch him as he takes his boxers off before pressing a kiss to her stomach and removing her own underwear.
He watches, mesmerized, as she lowers a hand to finger herself open, her eyes never leaving his.
Unable to help himself, he pumps himself slowly in an attempt to match her rhythm.
“Roy,” she whispers, voice barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. “Baby,” now it’s her turn with the pet names and he audibly whines. “Will you fuck me?”
“Yes–” he chokes out, accidentally grabbing his dick enough for it to hurt. Wincing in pain, he finds it worth it at the giggle she lets out at his expense.
“I–uh, I don’t have any…condoms.” Embarrassment is clear in his voice and he’s kicking himself for not stopping on the way. It would've been torture to wait to see her but worth it in the end–
“That’s okay, I’m clean.” She says easily, her free hand coming to hold onto one of his. “Are you?”
Gulping, he thinks she might really be the death of him after all.
“I…yes. I’ve never…done this before.”
This being well, sex.
Riza looks surprised at that, her pretty mouth forming an “o” before her lips curl into a smile as she tilts her chin up, asking silently for him to kiss her.
He does so quite happily.
She kisses him until he forgets his name and then some and when she closes her hand around his dick, he jolts in her touch and shakes as she begins to pump him.
He watches with wide eyes as she guides him into her and at the first touch of her heat against him, he’s biting his lip hard enough to bleed.
She shivers as he sinks deeper and it’s only when he’s bottomed out does he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. With quivering hands, he grabs hold of hers and presses guileless kisses into the palms of her hands as they both do their best to calm down.
It feels like hours until he feels sane enough to move without cumming on the spot and he leans down to kiss her. She tightens as he shifts inside her and he groans deeply into her mouth.
“Good boy,” she moans against his lips and those two little words are enough to elicit a wanton moan from him, his shoulders tightening in his attempt to not cum.
“You can move now, baby.”
“Can’t.” He pants, hair frizzy and cheeks red as she strokes along his back. Her touch sends goosebumps breaking out on his skin and he whimpers against her lips. “If I do, I’ll cum.”
“That’s okay,” she says through a huff of laughter. She sounds so impossibly fond and it makes tears prick at his eyes. “I don’t mind.”
“No,” he whines out. “Just give me a minute.”
She hums her consent and scratches lightly at his back, kissing softly against his red, too red cheeks.
It takes him more than a minute, he knows it, but she remains so patient. Blinking dazedly from where he’s buried his face in her neck, the rising wave in his lower abdomen has dulled to a small tide and it’s then that he begins to move.
At first, he simply rocks into her. The gentle motion is enough to sate both of them for the time being as she tilts her head back into her pillow and moans out his name, her voice calling to him like a siren until he’s kissing her again.
Swallowing down her sounds, his own wanton moans slip out uninhibited as she rises to meet him again and again, increasing the pace all on her own as she presses him in as deep as possible, shuddering every time he bottoms out.
Soon enough, the only sounds filling the room are their bodies meeting each other and their moans they’ve long since stopped trying to hide.
“You’re doing so good, Roy.” She whines into his ear after he’s picked up the pace enough to rock the bed, the headboard hitting the wall after every thrust. “You’re making me feel so good.”
“God, Riza I–” his voice breaks off in a sound so broken, if he wasn’t currently melting under her touch, he’d be embarrassed about it. She’s all around him, surrounding him completely, and it's everything he’s ever wanted. “I can’t last much longer.”
“That’s okay,” she repeats again, just as understanding. She lowers a hand to play with her clit as he pounds into her and he watches her ministrations for a time before he feels comfortable enough to do them himself. Pushing her hand aside, he rubs her clit in time with his thrusts and watches her through sweaty bangs as she closes her eyes in pleasure.
“Just like that,” she breathes, and he preens about the fact that he’s the one making her fall apart like this. “I’m close, too.”
Focusing all of his attention on making her feel good, he gets so lost in her pleasure that he forgets about his own. Not realizing his thrusts have faltered until she cracks one eye open and snorts at his focused expression. He feels himself flush an even darker red as she guides his face to hers and licks into his mouth.
Losing himself in her once again, he quickens his pace, bottoming out with every thrust and circling her clit in the way he saw her do, in the way he’s dreamed about.
“Roy,” Riza moans, pulling back from his mouth to throw her head back. He latches onto the soft skin of her neck without hesitation and sucks proof of his love onto the pale canvas. She chants his name before tightening around him hard enough that he sees stars. He pumps into her just until her orgasm subsides and then he’s pulling out, barely avoiding cumming inside her as he coats her stomach with his spend.
“Fuck,” he curses, watching as he paints her abdomen, all the way up to her ample chest. She moans at the heat that covers her and he cums enough for it to pool in her navel. It’s an absolutely debauched sight and he doesn’t realize he’s been repeating her name until he catches her eye and sees her smile.
“Riza,” he flusters, voice absolutely wrecked as he covers her body with his own, not minding the mess he’s made, and kisses her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. She hums into his mouth as he strokes his fingertips up and down her sides before cupping her soft waist and sliding a thigh between her legs, smiling at the noise that slips from her at the press of skin against skin.
They kiss long enough that his cum cools against their bodies and creates an uncomfortable mess. She loves him enough to give him an extra five minutes of slow kisses before she’s pushing him from the bed and demanding, albeit gently, to find something to clean her up.
He laughs at her indignation and walks on unsteady legs to the bathroom, quickly returning with a wet rag and promptly stopping in his tracks at once again seeing her like that.
His dick twitches in interest before his mind even has the chance to catch up but he pushes his everlasting want aside to take care of her like she always does for him.
He cleans her up, pressing a kiss to every spot he wipes clean, and cleans himself up with far less care before tossing the towel to the side and curling up beside her in bed, covering them both with her sheets.
She watches him do all this through her lashes, lip bitten as she attempts to hide her smiles. But he can see it in the apples of her cheeks, the twinkle in her eyes, and he grins wide enough to show off his teeth.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said I love you.” He whispers once she’s settled comfortably against his chest. Her head rests delicately over his heart and she strokes circles into his stomach with her thumb. The touch is borderline teasing and it gets his dick very interested.
If she notices the slowly rising tent of the fabric around his waist, she doesn’t say a thing, too intent on the eye contact they’ve yet to break.
“I would hope so,” she responds slyly, pressing a kiss to his jawline and he laughs at the feeling. “Because I love you too.”
It’s mesmerizing, to watch her say it, to see her lips form the words he’s wanted to hear since he could remember. He’s dreamt of this moment too many times to count but it’s nothing compared to the real thing.
“How did I get so–” he cranes his neck uncomfortably to kiss her and in the same motion where she rises to meet him halfway, she slides his hand to his erection and pumps him from tip to base, just once. “-lucky?” he chokes out, heaving at her touch.
“Mm, I’m not sure.” She teases, a glint of mischief in her eyes as she kisses him once more before she swings one leg over his hip and settles in his lap, wasting absolutely no time in grinding against him like she owns him.
And she does.
God, does she.
“Want me to show you just how lucky you are?” She questions, hands coming to rest on his chest as she slides him between her lower lips.
“Please,” he gasps out, hands coming to grasp at her waist, her hips, scrambling for purchase as she sinks down onto him in one go. “Please, please–”
Rising to the tip and dropping herself back down, she drinks in his moans like a woman deprived of water and watches as he falls apart beneath her. He stares at her like something holy and tears prick at his eyes and she makes sure that yes–
He would.