There is a routine in the approach of midnight, the silence in the halls of Central headquarters, the ache in Riza's shoulders after a night of overtime work. She walks with Roy, he as quiet as she, to the dimly lit, nearly empty basement parking, where their cars are only a few spaces apart in a far corner. Her senses are mostly dulled by the desire for nothing more than to finally get home.
At the door of her car, she finds herself pulled back, suddenly enveloped in Roy's arms as he gently takes her keys from her hand.
"Don't go yet."
It's as if she's forgotten the time.
Riza turns in his arms, and they begin kissing furiously, grabbing at each other with uncharacteristic recklessness. They stumble and shuffle to his car, and she slips her hand into his pocket for his keys; his back slams onto the car as she presses into his body; they don't pause as she fumbles with the door. When she finally unlocks it, Roy quickly turns as he throws the door open, and she pulls him by the collar as he pushes her inside.
They begin tearing off each other's clothes hurriedly, tiredness forgotten for arousal, the cramped space of the backseat notwithstanding. Riza feels his breath on her neck, and she curses under her breath as goosebumps appear on the exact same spot.
"You're always in such a hurry to go home, Lieutenant," says Roy, pushing his hand through the hem of her trousers. "I hate seeing you leave so soon."
His fingers swiftly trace down her thigh and between her legs, and then slip into her. She tenses up, already wet; her hips involuntarily push forward, legs kicking off her remaining clothing. "We've been here—all day—"
"A while longer shouldn't hurt."
Roy is as precise with her as he is with flames, dragging and pressing his fingers deftly about her sex. She stretches and winds her legs around him, inviting him with both movement and heavy breaths to reach in as he pleases. Her hands pull off Roy's white shirt and run through his hair with no conscious command. Her pleasure mounts up, and he is quick to replace his fingers with his cock, with surprising tenderness replacing urgency.
Every part of Riza wakes up with Roy's touch; her shoulders beneath his warm lips, her breasts in his palms, her thighs against his as she pushes herself upwards to his body. He is gentle at first, rolling his hips so that she builds up more slowly than she is used to. Somehow, it's at just the right pace, allowing her to savor the waves of sensation that climb up to her back.
The softest moan escapes her lips, and she feels him tense up.
"What was that?" His voice is soft and level, but somehow dark.
Riza tips her head back, mouth open as her short, faint breaths teeter on the edge of full pleasure. Behind the whisper, she hears a note of hunger; it should have prepared her for what was coming.
"I'm not going to ask again." He thrusts hard once to punctuate the end of his sentence; she moans again, louder this time.
Roy takes her shoulder and her hip and he turns her over, thrusting from behind now, all care forgotten, his movement fast and hard. His breath brushes her ear as he moans, arousing her even more. He wraps an arm around her chest, which her hand quickly finds his as he grabs her breast. Soon, Riza begins to pulse between her legs as sweat pools behind her knees.
Her toes curl; she digs her fingernails impatiently, repeatedly, into Roy's hand. "Please."
In a moment, she is overcome with her climax, like a sandstorm that refuses to settle, or wave after tall wave drowning her in the ocean. She moves for as long as she can, prolonging the sensation until she grows numb; at the same time, Roy reaches his climax as well, his release filling her with warmth. He deflates; they sink into the backseat, Riza turning to face him, and she pulls him close with languid limbs.
The high fills her mind just as it does her body, almost immediately bringing back the earlier feeling of fatigue. This time, it weighs her down even more; she isn't even sure if she still has the energy to push her superior office off herself, or get dressed, let alone drive. Her mind returns to her house and poor Black Hayate waiting dutifully by the door.
The tired part of her regrets that she had stayed out longer than she had planned, far from the warmth of her bed. But by now, she has already familiarized herself with this regret, memorized their routine on nights like this, and so she fights the urge to fall asleep there and then, still naked and drenched in sweat, just like she's used to.
The part of her that finds the pleasure worth the trouble will always win out. She could never go home without a proper goodbye to Roy Mustang.