This is a continuation of my previous fic, Closer to Fire and Ice, in response to some demands and yes my wish to elaborate on it.
Pairings: OliviaxScar, onesided OliviaxMiles.
M for a reason. Warnings for implied sex, or maybe not so implied
DISCLAIMER: I still only wished I owned FMA.
Set one week after the events of Closer to fire and Ice
She was lying there for a good two hours already, hands on her head just staring at the ceiling. She frowned at the ceiling as if it was the culprit.
She tossed to her side and glanced at the red glow of light from the digital clock. It's already 2:11 in the morning. She grabbed her feathered pillow from above her head and smacked it right on her face. It didn't help one bit.
She growled and sat, pulled on her long blond hair in irritation and turned the bedside light on. She stood and walked towards the wall where she keeps her books neatly piled, hoping to find something to read. She stared at it for a good five minutes deciding which book to choose. Nothing seems even close to interesting to her at the moment. She slammed her fist on the wall, thankful that the concrete muffled the impact.
She went back to bed cursing his name under her breath, blaming him for what she is going through right now. She crashed her head against her soft pillows and closed her eyes tightly. Images from their brief encounter a week ago, particularly when he was holding her came back rushing behind her eyes.
Her eyes flew open. She crumpled her bed sheets tightly between her hands and stood back up.
She grabbed her robe made of wool to cover her silk nightgown, opened the door, and slammed it shut behind her. No particular direction in mind.
But someone's got hell to pay.
.
He on the other hand was in a not so different situation.
He is already standing right now, pacing, decided that he wouldn't be able to get much sleep tonight. Not that it was any different from the past seven days. It's not like something like that, or more precisely someone like her, was that easy to forget, especially when you get a taste of it.
Especially when you get a taste of her.
He unconsciously licked his lips from the memory, but consciously smirked.
He has to work harder she says. He wonders if him staying up late or rather not getting any sleep at all would cut it, or him eyeing her and giving her meaningful looks for the past days, in which she shows no sign of noticing. Except maybe her giving him death glares every now and then. Or the feel of her eyes burrowing behind his head, like a bullet from a high calibre sniper rifle.
He shook his head in amusement. Doesn't she know that in doing this he only likes her even more?
His mind wandered further, wondered what she could be wearing in her sleep. The thought made his breath lodge on his throat.
He was sure it was breathtaking, or more accurately for him, or for any masculine member of the species, arousing.
He ran a hand through his unruly white hair, and smiled. The things he was dying to do…
"What the hell." He whispered under his breath.
He made his way to his door, grabbed his wool coat, and headed out. No particular direction in mind.
.
She was walking, just past the communications array, head down, brows meeting together in annoyance. Her hands were clenched to her sides. Patrolmen making their routine rounds were about to greet her, but decided against it when they saw the look on her face. Instead they settled on saluting her.
It was like she didn't see them. While performing her angry stride, she felt something tapping her by the thigh. Probably coming from her robe pocket. She reached in and pulled it out. Ah, a folding knife pocket. Perfect.
.
He was walking, head down, thoughts of her and her nightgown still on his head. He was wearing such a solemn expression that no one would have guessed what was running on his mind. His hands were also clenched inside his coat pocket, because of the cold.
Patrolmen making their rounds decided between greeting him or just turn tail and make a run for it. But they held their ground. They called out his name and he nodded to them. As he walked past them, the men let out a sigh of relief.
He just continued walking aimlessly.
He was so consumed by his thoughts that he did not hear that familiar footsteps. So engrossed was he that he only noticed it when he saw a pair of boots right in from of him.
"Scar!" the voice choked.
"General?" She was the last person he imagined to run into, if imagining was the right term.
The shock on her face probably mirrored his own. It's not like her jaw was hanging open, but her eyes were, as wide as saucers. Both of them never thought they'd run into each other, not here, not in this hour.
They eventually returned to their senses.
Instinctively he took a step back. She took it as an invitation to take a step forward.
His eyes caught sight of the knife. Her eyes followed where he was looking. She smiled that devilish smile. It made his blood run wild.
He gestured with his head and entered the room right next to him, hoping the general would follow. Sure enough, a few seconds after walking inside, she was behind him. The label on the door says 'Armoury'.
They resumed with their staring stand-off. Olivia walked slowly towards him, with predatory grace.
Scar stood, ready and waiting. He narrowed his eyes towards her not forgetting the blade on her hands. She raised her hand by his neck as if reading his thoughts, the smirk still on her lips.
Scar was still rooted on his place, hands trembling with anticipation, eyes trained on her lovely lips. Olivia was now face to face with him, her playful devilish smile turned serious.
The air was heavy with tension, the right kind of tension.
She lowered the knife, right at his chest.
Olivia spoke, "You have been giving me problems Ishvalan, for the past week."
"So have you." He answers as he continued to engulf her presence with his fiery eyes, lingering on all the right places.
Of course, she saw it all, and her voice turned low, seductive. "Are you waiting for an order, soldier?"
That did it. All the control scar summoned the past week crumbled. He grabbed her knifed hand and put it behind her.
She breathed in surprise, mouth open in shock at the sudden movement. The Ishvalan took this opportunity to grab her by her hair and slam his mouth onto her.
A battle of tongues ensued.
Air. She pushed him away forcefully, and filled her lungs. She saw him do the same.
She grabbed him by the shirt, stuck the knife through it then ripped it apart. The blade flew along with the cloth.
A grappling of flesh.
Hands again lingered on the beautiful patterns, while mouths seek the other.
A robe fell. Red eyes lingered on the silk partly covering the divine body. She giggled at his attention. Teasing hands went and slowly lowered a strap.
Sexy.
He went and grabbed her at the waist, lifting her up. Well toned feminine legs encircled his waist.
She almost growled at the contact.
Something pushed in. A low moan escaped.
A sigh of pleasure released.
A steady rock became demanding, forceful.
A bite from her lips drew blood. He groaned at the sensation. Pain.
She licked and laughed.
She reached her peak and buried her hands at his back. He drew his head back in satisfaction.
They lay motionless for a while, only the rise and fall of their chest the visible movement.
There was a look of satisfaction in both of their faces. A feeling of sudden release. As if a thorn was taken off, a bullet extracted.
She was the first to move. She sat up and gathered her clothes.
He watched with fascination and admiration. How the muscles at her back tensed with the movement, and yet be so feminine. His sight-seeing was cut short as she pulled her nightgown back on. She turned her head to look at him, eyelids heavy.
She leaned back down and lapped where she bit him. Again her low laugh driving him insane. She looked at him through her lashes expression unreadable.
He was wondering what she was thinking, though he may not know, not yet.
But she was thinking of how dangerous this man was and yet how irresistibly handsome he is. She knows a more decent and smarter woman would stay away. Decent she is. Smart she is. But she also loves playing with fire. And he was the hottest of fires. Get too close and she'll definitely burn.
But a little danger makes life all the more worth living. It was like icing on the cake.
He tucks her golden hair behind her ears, and just look at her. Still partly unbelieving of what they had done.
She closed her eyes at the gesture. With the simple act of warmth, he glimpsed the woman behind the General. Tough, uncompromising, highly skilled, intellectual, but still human, still in need of affection. Only, she cannot show any such weakness in front of her men. The mask was slipping before his eyes, and he was even more captivated of what he was peeking at.
All the more he liked her.
As if an internal alarm sounded, her hard gaze and nonchalance returned. She straightened and sat up, and gathered all her clothing.
Olivia stood up and in a voice flat as the metal floor she on, she said, "I suggest you to be doing the same. You still have work you need to accomplish."
Scar sat up and wore a sardonic grin. "Yes, ma'am."
"I'll be heading back to my quarters and maybe catch a few hours of sleep. In doing the same," she turned and looked scar in the eye, her expression meant business, "I want you to make sure no one, and I mean no one sees out go out of here. Are we clear?"
He nodded. This woman is really unbelievably.
But the response was not enough for the general. She repeated in a voice that meant final "Are we clear?"
"Crystal." He answered.
"Good. And I like you to know, my threat is still standing. No one is to know what happened at the gym and this. Especially this." She pulled her knife from what box it lodged to.
"Understood." Scar replied
Olivia nodded and started for the door.
"Olivia?" Scar started not sure what he was thinking of saying.
She stopped on her tracks and turned around. Her jaw was set as stone when she looked at him. He could already tell that there was a reprimand coming.
"I believe I have not allowed you to use my name so casually. To you I am still Major General Armstrong and will remain to be. Do we have an understanding, soldier?"
"Yes, we have. General."
She half turned toward the door. "Although, the name Olivia can be of use the next time I make you scream with pleasure."
She leered at him then went out the door.
There were a few things that that could surprise Scar, and this was one of them. He did not comprehend what she meant at first but when he got over the shock of what she said he bit his lip to stop himself from smiling too big, too stupidly.
He went for his clothing, eyed his torn shirt thanks to Olivia. Maybe he should try to get some sleep. But then he shook his head. As if the memories of this morning would allow him to.
XXX
Scar vision cleared with the snapping of finger's in front of his face.
He heard a distant voice calling his name. Then the voice became clearer.
"Scar, hey are you listening?"
Miles.
"I swear man, if only General Mustang wasn't too pushy I wouldn't be as well, but we are running close to the deadline."
Scar looked up, eyes bloodshot.
"Your eyes are open but your brain is still sleeping." Miles walked toward the counter and poured coffee into a cup. He laid the cup in front of the other Ishvalan.
The smell of the coffee seemed to have awakened Scar a little.
"What have you been up to last night?" The question was sudden, it caught him off guard. The answer would pertain to not only tonight, but the nights of the last three weeks.
Luckily, he was known for his silence. He chose not to answer. The man beside him just sighed.
"Never mind my question." The younger of the Ishvalan said. "We just have to finish this or General Armstrong will have our heads in a silver platter. We have been progressing really really slow as of late."
Scar took a sip of the coffee, black, as he likes it. He cleared his throat. "Where were we again?
Miles took out a map with the outline of the roads from Amestris and out. He pointed a firm finger to where Ishval meets the eastern countries. "Trading routes, we were talking about trading routes. I was saying that we should take the short road because there are many essential products that we get from Xing. Less time, less resources. And you were saying that that road is not good, stared at the map, and went blank."
Another sip of coffee. "I said that that road is not good enough…"
"Yes."
Scar flipped the map to face him and pointed at one infrastructure on the map "…because of this. It is a temple."
"There's a temple?"
"Yes there is. People of Ishval, knowing how devout they are, would not appreciate any kind of disturbance along where they worship."
Miles stared at the map, eyes going through it as in searching for another route. He pulled the map to himself. "I guess, that takes it out. Xing citizens also have great respect for beliefs, so they wouldn't want to upset the Ishvalans…"
"And so does the people from Central if they want to gain the citizens' support."
Miles put his hand on his mouth in thinking.
Scar was also looking intently on the map. He would have been thinking of a solution had he not been distracted. Thoughts of Olivia came assaulting his mind. Her bright blue eyes enticing him, her lips devouring him, even up to when she just leaves after as if nothing happened. Everything about the woman is sets him off balance.
They have been at it for three weeks now, and both are enjoying the game of cat and mouse. Neither of them showing signs of backing off. Although three weeks is still a little too early to have assurances. But he is growing fond of her. Not only wanting her because of the physical pursuits, but the more he sees, the less he knows, and the more he wants to learn. And this one is the next thing he had to figure out. Does she like him for the sex, or is there something more?
With her, he can never be sure. It is not like they have a conversation after.
Miles was looking at him now, his eyebrows raised and eyes narrowed. "You are not drifting away again, are you?"
Scar makes a trail on the map. "I was thinking that they take this back road, the distance is a little longer but not by much. Plus, there are only a few riders who take that trail, less traffic. Only it needs a little more attention and developing…"
He looks at the Ishvalan Major. He seems still unconvinced, but not of the information that was presented to him.
"Good." Miles said after a drawn out look, as if doubtful if the man in front of him was really paying attention. "I was thinking the same thing."
Before any other discussion was started, there was a knock at the door. Major Miles stood to attention and saluted.
"General."
"Major Miles," General Armstrong nodded, "Scar. What have you accomplished?"
Scar smirked although unnoticeably. That's Major General Olivia Mira Armstrong for you. No small talks, no introductions, just gets on to business, like in bed.
Major Miles cleared his throat. "We have just finished the trading routes. We will talk next of road construction. We have also discussed and chose possible people from Ishval who would do well to serve in the government as liaison and representative to the people. We will hand over the list shortly."
Olivia waited for the next on the list that they have finished. Upon hearing nothing, she looked at him sharply. "Is that all Miles?"
The Major blinked twice and looked at Scar. "Uh…"
"Scar?" The general asked.
He wasn't able to answer immediately, wracking his half asleep brain. "Infrastructure." He replied after a moment's pause.
"Infrastructure?"
Scar and Miles looked at each other.
Miles caught his lead. "Yes, major infrastructures that are needed in Ishval, like hospitals, a military base. Scar and I discussed the lack of them as they were lost and burned to the ground during the war…" his voice trailed off.
Miles involuntarily glanced at Scar. So did Olivia.
Scar unconsciously tightened his jaw. This gesture did not go unnoticed by the other two people in the room. It was still a touchy subject for the man. But he shook it off.
"We were just touching on the subject of infrastructure and road works, and the possible manpower allocation and the raw materials needed." Scar explained.
"We already have a rough estimate of the cost and the number of people needed." The major followed through and handed over a paper where various computations are scribbled down.
Olivia took it, her eyes scanning the paper from top to bottom. She did it again. At the third attempt, she gave up, frowned and shoved the paper back to the major.
"Break down the computations, I want every detail of how you arrived at these numbers. Write down the possible sources of the supplies and possible contractors for the infrastructures. I want everything we discussed today in writing." She had a tone that commands no contradiction.
"Include the discussion on trading routes, and also all of the names of the nominated men and women representative for Ishval. I want all their accomplishments, their bio-statistics, everything about them in organized bullet form highlighting the most significant detail. I want it today, and at my desk by 5 pm."
The two Ishvalans looked at the clock overhead, it's a quarter before four.
"My lady…" Miles started to object.
Olivia cut him off asking him what.
"It's not feasible."
"Make it." She stubbornly answers. "You are my best man, and I know you can think if a way. I won't have Grumman, Fuhrer or not, bark at me and dog me around because of my inefficiency." She pointed out. "I'd say that Mustang had a hand on this."
She slams a hand on the work table. "seventeen hundred hours, at my desk, not a minute late, not a minute early. Are we clear?"
"Crystal." They answered in unison, the other voice in attention, the other weary.
Just like that, she straightens up and heads out the door.
"Central must have been relentless." Scar observed still looking at the place where the general had been standing.
Miles sighed looking at the same spot. "No doubt about it, no doubt about it. Mustang…"
Miles massaged his temples with both his hands. Scar could practically hear the clicking of the cogwheels in his brain. He grabbed the radio from his belt. "Officer Falman, Sergeant Wicker, Private Barnes, report to Lounge 52 immediately."
The major then proceeded on the work table, grabbed a yellow highlighter and furiously gone over the notes, putting a yellow line over the important details. Three static voices over the walkie-talkie affirmed receiving the command.
Scar walked over to him. Miles didn't look up.
"I know." He stated while continuing to highlight words and phrases on their notes. "I need to relax a little. Is that what you wanted to say?"
Scar shrugged. "Something like that."
"I know Olivia. When she says she wants something done, she wants it done. I don't want to be caught on the brunt of her raging inferno when this happens. I just don't let it happen."
Scar caught something from the statement that Miles just said. Something that bothered him, just a little. He called her Olivia.
"I guess the two of you have a long history."
"You have no idea." The man's clueless answer, a glimpse of a distance smile on his lips, as if recalling a memory. A bittersweet one. "To be on the receiving end of an angry General Armstrong, I would have rather fought Fuhrer King Bradley."
Scar smiled. "That bad?"
"That bad." Miles laughs and slumps a little.
"Do you like her?" Scar asks to the point. But fails to ask a more important, more revealing question.
Miles stops from his crazy scribbling and looks up. "No."
The older of the two caught his eye, expression showing that he was not convinced by the major's answer.
The Major could tell. He breaths in, and puffs out air slowly. "Yes." He confesses.
"I thought so." Scar feigned nonchalance.
"She is a great woman. Tough to deal with, but great nonetheless. I am lucky to be serving under her. And may I add, she is beautiful too."
Scar nodded. He couldn't agree more.
The major resumed to his work. Scar took a piece of paper and did the same.
The major chuckled dry, and weakly, as if pained of what he was thinking and what he was about to say. "Daughter to the renowned former General Philip Gargantos Armstrong, heiress to the Armstrong estate, a forerunner to be next Fuhrer after Grumman, I am way over my head even to just imagine…"
The Major trailed off and sighed, frustrations palpable. He distracted himself by focusing on the work ahead.
Somehow Scar felt like it was his subconscious who was talking, as if knocking sense into his head.
"Major Miles." A white haired man stood in attention at the door. "Officer Farman reporting for duty!"
Then two other soldiers came in. Miles straightened started to issue orders handing them the marked papers.
Whatever it was Scar was thinking or wanting to say, he was no longer able to.
.x.
The day's work was finally over. The Ishvalan was thanking his God. He liked the major but when he gets to serious on catching on a deadline, he becomes difficult. Really, difficult.
The guy is lucky he has an Ishvalan heritage, or Scar wouldn't have been so patient with him. But having Ishval blood or not, the major is a decent and respectable man. He has integrity, and courage, traits that would pass for him to consider a man deserving of his respect. And this particular man shows even more than that, just from their first meeting, even when they were on the different side of the battlefield.
Either way, it was thanks to him that they were able to meet the five o'clock deadline.
Scar rubbed his nape and stretched his neck left and right. He groaned due to exhaustion. As he was doing so, he heard the shuffling of cloth and light footsteps behind him. He sharply turned to look behind him. No one.
He turned to look in front of him. Empty. He again looked back. The hallway was devoid of people, front and back. When he was convinced that no one is following him, he started to turn towards the front.
He was not so surprised when he saw a very familiar face only a few inches on his own.
"Hello Scar." She purred, he can feel the moist breath as she speaks.
"Olivia." He greets, he can't keep the smirk from painting his face.
The general grabs him by the collar and drags him to a nearby room. Stocks and supplies. But as she was stumbling to get the door open behind her, Scar bends down and kisses her, needy and famished.
She giggles low on her throat and moans. She managed to get the door open after fumbling and groping. He pushes her inside the room.
The door closes. Their breaths and whimpers hushed behind the concrete sanctuary. Their secret sealed within.
Or so they thought.
Because amidst their screams of pleasure and the grinding of flesh, their knowledge betrayed them. Cautious, they were, but the desire made such vigilance not enough. For in the corner, cloaked in shadows, inconspicuous to anyone, the other soldier who hailed from Ishval lurks silently. Eyes behind the snow-blindness glasses watchful, hands clenched in pain, but resigned to stay motionless, resisting to perform anything his mind commands him.
For the happiness of his queen.
This wasn't the first time he witnessed them, nor will it be the last.
He breathed heavily to ease the pressure on his chest, like he always does, and knocked his head on the cold concrete wall. Eyes behind the glasses shut tight.
When the feeling subsided, he turned to walk back to his quarters. He was at least thankful that his eyes were hidden behind the goggles, just in case a soldier would be doing his patrol. At least it was still useful even though the fact that he was from Ishval is known to all.
He scolds himself of following them every night and watching them, again, and again.
He was sure he isn't a masochist. But he had to see, no matter how painful. It was solace, to see her smile the way she did at the other.
A/N: I just assumed Miles was younger though there is no mention of age. Just coz he seems like it.
I wanted the smut part not be so much of a porn, but more of an art. So what do you think about it? I cannot bring myself to write something more detailed, and yes this is my first attempt at this.
Tell me what you think of my story, any comment is welcome, naughty or nice.
Thanks for reading! I might think of a third if this one gets good reviews and if people ask for it.