A/N: Morning, morning! Noticing the complete lack of such *ahem* development between these two characters, I thought I could contribute a little. I mean, is it just me or Olivier is a bit of a femme-fatale, whereas Miles is like a pie? I don't know, but they just fit like a glove in this scenario, just saying.

Evidently, I don't own anything that is obvious and, per warnings, graphic situations and language. This contains normal sex, pegging and some good old fluff.

Anyway, Miles and Olivier Armstrong are fun to write and I hope they will be just as enjoyable to read. Thank you for checking out this story and I'd love to hear what you think of it!

But first things first...


A Matter of Perspective, part one - The Shop Window

Rain was rapping monotonously against the window, droplets rolling lazily down the surface. They landed shyly on the sill, feeding the puddle that was forming underneath.

Miles pressed his forehead against the glass, rejoicing in its coolness. He has been boiling since he'd arrived there and finally, after five long days of agonising heat, the weather was finally paying a little attention to the poorly acclimatised officer.

Whoever thought of him as a warmth-loving kind of person just because of his ancestry was deadly mistaken. He's gotten so used to feeling frozen that it wasn't as easy as it should have been to accommodate such high temperatures. But he supposed that midsummer in the Southern Amestris could be taxing for anyone, not just for a Briggs Bear who'd spent most of his childhood in the desert. He should really have had a little more endurance, given the facts, but things didn't always work like they were supposed to.

Miles sighed, his hot breath tinting the cold glass. For some reason that still eluded him, he had asked for a permission a few weeks before, firmly convinced that no one would be mad enough to send him away anywhere during summer, when the blood started to boil in everyone's veins and so many problems occurred because of that. However, things in Briggs turned out to be running rather smoothly, if not a bit slow, and the terribly generous commander of the fort, the dear Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong, had considered his vacation idea to be absolutely marvellous. She had not only allowed him an entire week of leave, she had even insisted that he ought to go all the way to South City to see a bit of sun, maybe catch a tan since he's been looking a bit pale lately. Some scorching heat and skin-peeling rays would do him wonders, she assured him, so much better than the sun reflecting in the snow and the teeth-rattling winds of the North.

The woman went to such lengths that she even bought his train tickets personally. Miles knew from the start that she was making fun of him, but he kept his mouth shut and watched his superior officer sign his leave paperwork. He didn't know what he had done to anger her so badly to be sent to the South in the middle of summer, but he could play that game, too. When he would eventually return to the North, he would make sure to tell her how amazing he'd felt during his vacation and rub it all over face, just to spite her – that's what he would do, he thought, all be damned.

That is how Miles landed in a hotel room in the overly sunny South City. He could have easily jumped off the train and changed his destination for something breezier, but Armstrong cut his wings long before he'd left the military base – she would make sure he got where she had sent him and stayed there by simply calling him in the morning, at the precise hour of sunrise. She wouldn't say a word – just call and then hung up when he picked up the phone. Naturally, he'd have to say something to prove it was him, and he made it his personal mission to step on her nerves every time she called. She'd respond, alright, and what she said wasn't by any means nice, but they were both too stubborn to stop that nonsense and be civil to each other.

Why he'd put up with her madness and why he felt the need to return it in kind, he didn't have a pertinent answer to that, but he was adamant on showing Olivier that he could very well enjoy himself even if she was torturing him from afar. She was messing with the wrong person and she would soon realise it.

He pressed his cheek to the window. Even if the season has been warm in Briggs as well, nothing could be compared to the blazing inferno that passed as summer in the South. Miles has forgotten how hot a day could get, though he wasn't surprised – during the highest temperatures in the mountains, they still had to clad themselves in the entire uniform, complete with thick socks and woollen clothes. The sole luxury of summer was that they could forgo the heavy coats when they went outside, which was a lot considering the altitude.

He remembered the summers in Ishbal from when he was a child and all of his family was still alive. The civil war hasn't erupted yet in that distant memory, though there were many signs of a possible conflagration. Nevertheless, to a little boy like he'd been back then, those things didn't matter. He recalled his grandmother rubbing nice smelling oils over his skin to protect him from getting sunburns - he stood all day outside only in shorts and rarely did he wear a top. He spent hours and hours playing with the local children, from sunrise to sundown and sometimes more. He had been quite a solar child, loving to bask in the sun until he nearly fainted from dehydration or heat. However, his time in Briggs changed his adaptability. He still appreciated staying outdoors, loving the gentle breeze over his face and the sound of the earth beneath his feet, but he started to lose that crazed passion of burning his skin raw and sweating like a dog.

Now that he thought of it, South City was nothing like his grandfather's house in the East. In Ishbal, the heat was dry and breathable, but in the South, it was moist and absolutely unbearable. The weather was as unpredictable as it could get, rainstorms erupting out of nowhere, bringing unnatural amounts of moisture with them. Even if the desert sandstorms weren't exactly a maiden's dream, at least they weren't wet.

Anyway, before he would have to worry about any added humidity, he could very well enjoy the freshness of the summer rain.

He turned on his heels and finished buttoning up his brightly coloured shirt, decorated by an extensive flowery imprint. The quarter Ishbalan has always loved wearing colourful clothes, despite the evident fact that the uniform couldn't allow him more eccentricity than his hairstyle and much needed goggles. In vacations, he could put on whatever he fancied.

Humming softly, Miles brushed his long white locks and tied them in a tight bun, hoping it would make his hair less rigid when he untied it in the evening. He put on his goggles, thankful that, among all the downsides of his destination, there were good things in travelling to a sunny city – everyone wore shades and no one asked questions.

Armed with an umbrella he's forgotten in his bag – an object which was stolen from the Armstrong manor when he had to chaperone his commander to an endless family party and it rained like there would be no tomorrow when they left - he descended into the softening rain. It was getting lighter, the droplets tapping on the resistant fabric almost soothingly. Before he got to the central plaza, the rain has stopped completely and all that remained in its stead was a pleasant slant of wind that cooled down the atmosphere.

He might have been complaining about the temperature of the previous days, but that didn't stop the officer from doing his usual sightseeing. Everyone was melting on their feet around him, so he didn't stick out that much. He had earned that damned tan Armstrong has been babbling about, too, meaning he could successfully say he had accomplished his vacation's mandatory goal. Let that harpy make jokes about his paleness all she wanted – he could respond to that his own way.

He stopped at the first cafe that caught his eye and ordered a strong coffee to start his day. Its taste was exquisite on his tongue and he marked it as his favourite up until then. It had a nutty tone that he quickly associated with milk, so he promptly asked for a cappuccino to assess that assumption. As soon as he took the first sip, his mind was invaded with the blissful face Olivier made when he brought her coffee from wherever he went. He quickly asked if he could buy a pack of that blend, thinking she would appreciate it.

It might have been a vacation planned under strange circumstances, but he decided he could bring something for his commanding officer. Even inside his head, she was the commander, but he was partial to picturing the soft faces she made when they were alone, not that brutal mask she showed to the world. If all the mockery leaded to such peaceful moments like those in his mind, he could deal with whatever she came up with.

He muffled a sudden laugh by taking another sip from his coffee. He could easily imagine being sent South on the sole purpose of buying Olivier the blends he knew she would enjoy. The coffee in that part of the country was known for its quality, after all. She wouldn't be above that, but he guessed he could buy her some. Not because she awfully deserved it, more because he was feeling awfully kind these days.

He paid for his consumption and went out in the main road. He thought he could venture through different shops and look for something to bring to the guys from Briggs. Something flashy for Buccaneer, something to drink for the Doc and the engineering team, maybe some chocolates for those who entered the office. He always had sweets in the tin bowl on his desk and liked offering them to anyone who came to talk to him. That usually made his subordinates feel more at ease when the General next to him was glowering at them.

A little smile crept up his face, thinking that maybe some chocolate to chew on would make his commander shut up about the incapability of the Eastern troops, with whom they had just had a friendly exercise. That affair ended with certain classified agreements with Grumman and his entourage that made the blood in the Armstrong General seethe to the bursting point, something that had nothing to do with how disorganised she thought the Eastmen were – which they weren't, but it didn't do to say that in front of her.

He looked up at the cloudy sky. Perhaps he should be a little more respectful towards the Major General, since she was not only his superior but his girlfriend too, or, in the very least, that's what he considered her. Whatever they were to one another, that woman could be infuriating sometimes. Well, most of the times, but Miles had the patience of a rock when it came to her expansive behaviour. He loved her the way she was, totally unpredictable and slightly hysterical, even if she wasn't the easiest person to be with – Olivier was the kind you either worshipped like a madman or you hated to death and beyond. She knew her limitations well and she tended to listen to him when he tempered her, trusting him to let her know when she overstepped boundaries.

That might have been so on a usual day. In that situation, in spite of whatever power of conviction he held over her, he couldn't possibly imagine that stuffing her mouth with candy would make her any less verbal about the state of the army or what she thought about the higher command, because she could go on and on once the fuse was set. He'd have to muffle her mouth with so much more if he wanted to make her stop complaining.

That particular thought made him blush profusely. He hastily erased the image that was forming in his head and returned to making a list of things he should take for his colleagues.

Before he made any decisions, he entered a museum he's missed visiting that week. That took most of his day and what was left of it was spent on gift-chasing, especially for coffee. It was surprising how many took it for granted - people should see that thing they were having in Briggs, seriously, they would be more thankful for what they had.

With a sizeable amount of bags in one hand, the other inside his pocket, he made his way to a fruit shop he usually went to when Armstrong had business in the area and dragged him with her. It slightly surprised him that she didn't try to take a few days off too, but they couldn't always synchronise their leaves and because of that, Miles more often than not travelled alone. Olivier rarely took breaks anyway. She rarely left the fort without any official reason, if she left it at all. The soldiers usually made petitions to him to force their commander to take a vacation when she became too much to handle.

With those thoughts in his mind, he went down the familiar streets until they stopped looking like anything he had ever seen. He was in the good direction, though it appeared there had been some heavy renovations done in that neighbourhood. He shrugged and continued walking, making a mental map of the area to know how to return.

He counted the junctions and he finally found himself on the right street. He took a freshly squeezed fruit juice and slowly marched towards a route that looked interesting.

It was a rather obscure alleyway, filled with bars that had neon signs and liquor stores. He grinned, knowing where he would find something good for the Doc and the private stash in the office he shared with Olivier.

He didn't need to search too much for what he was looking for. He paid and returned to the main street. He went to the opposite direction to where he came from and as he walked, a pink sign made him stop in his tracks.

A smoking woman saw him looking at the window display and soon approached him. "You shouldn't be so shy, handsome," she told him as she extinguished her cigarette and pointed to the brightly branded shop she worked at.

Miles raised his unoccupied hand and waved it. "Ah, no, the sign's colour just blinded me, it's very... noticeable," he made, not knowing what to say. He felt a little confused by the skimpy dressed mannequins inside the display – they held some really strange whips and cuffs in their hands. He was an army man through and through, he was trained to see things that might bring harm such as those things, but he hasn't intended to stare.

"Nonsense," the woman brushed him off. "You know what? I think I have something just for you, handsome," she told him and went inside the shop, motioning for him to follow.

"I don't-" he started, but he couldn't see her anymore. He thought he should leave and pretend he wasn't approached by an erotic shop seller, but it would be rude not to tell her he really wasn't interested in any of her products.

His better nature won and he entered the shop. He instantly regretted that decision the moment he saw all sorts of weird phallic looking devices, some of their colours and shapes so strange he had to strain himself from gazing at them. Not every day did one get to see a yellow penis with random lumps painted in brilliant blue. His behaviour was understandable, he supposed.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't need anything," Miles said, but the woman was already rummaging through some boxes.

"You might not know it, but you do," she said from underneath the counter.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked indignant. He noticed some circular rings on a shelf and subtly read what was written under them. He quickly averted his gaze when he heard the shopkeeper shift, feeling something in him pang not exactly pleasantly.

What were all those torture instruments? For all his thirst for knowledge, he's never read that much about sex toys and the likes, but even without any informational support, he was suddenly afraid of them. Anyone who knew Olivier wouldn't trust her with anything that could maim someone for the obvious reasons and he dreaded the simple thought of restraining her in any way. He doubted he would live to see another day if he merely implied it to her and he didn't feel all that adventurous.

The woman chuckled and moved a big box to the side. "Nothing, handsome, why are you so tense? I think I know what to show you, but I don't want to take shots in the dark," she said and pointed a finger at him. "A fine looking bloke such as you is definitely hitched, m'right?"

He didn't know whether to feel insulted or flattered. He opened his mouth, but she got ahead of him. "No need to say a word, honey, I know you must be. I guess it's something without much fuss, hmm? I see no wedding ring on your finger, so you're not married," she went on. Miles tried to say something, but the obnoxious woman started talking again. "Wait, handsome, are you dating a woman or a man?" Her hands were making strange gestures and her face was quizzical.

Miles' brows shot up, not understanding where she was going with that. She replied before him, "Ah, woman it is then, let's see-"

"Wait a moment, Miss," he interjected. "I've only entered to say I don't want anything and I'm sorry for wasting your time, but I'm really not interested!"

"So you think the lady wouldn't like anything that you see here, mm? Okay then, I know exactly how you can blow her mind!" She quickly disappeared behind a curtain at the back of the shop.

"But I don't want to blow anyone's mind!" Miles protested and it was as good as talking to a wall. The woman returned with a black box, her smile wide. "You will thank me once you try this babe."

Miles sighed heavily. "Miss, I really- what the hell is that?" he asked, pointing to the now opened box. He looked better at the contents and felt his hair rise at the back of his neck.

"Aha, I knew you'd be hooked, handsome! I think the lady would appreciate it too, by the faces you're making!"

His eyes moved from the box to the woman, thinking how much he would eventually regret buying what she had suggested.

XXXXX

Olivier Armstrong swung on the burrowed chair, reading a boring report about wind shifts. It was once again a period of uneventful mountain patrols, so her men took it upon themselves to note down everything they've noticed to the tiniest detail, from the speed of the currents to how much snow has melted over the day. All in all, it wasn't a complete waste of time, because those apparently useless reports were used to predict weather. It just wasn't interesting to skim through long, interminable ramblings, even if they were needed for the safety of the fort and its occupants.

She jerked again, the chair rotating with her. She wondered why her office chair didn't spin and why Miles' did. It wasn't fair that her assistant had a cooler chair than her. She should do something about it.

Until she did anything, she could have fun with his chair. She has been spinning on it whenever her adjuvant was out of the fort – she guessed changing her boring seat could wait for a while longer.

She reclined on the backrest and propped her legs on the desk. She's had the office only for herself for almost a week. It was starting to get lonely and, quite honestly, sad. She somehow missed Miles' incessant babbling about this and that, it was too quiet with only her inside. There was no one to keep her calm when she started complaining about people's incompetence, but she guessed that the Major deserved a break from her.

Olivier knew that she had been particularly insufferable after the joined troops exercise, but she had many reasons to be. She felt something strange was happening with her country and she was insulted that she, as a high ranked officer, wasn't aware of anything, like she was being isolated by the higher command. Grumman had insisted they continued their tradition of joined training as a fair excuse for them to meet without drawing any unwanted attention. She understood their need to keep in contact, but that didn't make her any more ecstatic to work with Mustang and his merry crew. He was her friend, despite how little she liked admitting it, though that didn't mean she had to like helping that good-for-nothing idiot.

She crossed her legs and spun again. As soon as the seat faced the desk, she put the report down and grabbed another before the chair started another rotation.

Someone knocked at the door and she quickly stopped her goofiness. "Enter," she said loudly, her voice echoing strangely in the empty office.

The door was opened and the large figure of Buccaneer invaded the narrow entrance frame. He brought her a few yellow files and put them on her desk. "Sorry to interrupt, boss," he said and subtly pointed to her askew fringe, "I've brought you the reports from the weapon development department, like you've asked."

Olivier bent over the desk in pretence of looking at the folders, but what she did was to arrange her hair. All that spinning around disturbed it and she didn't need her men start questioning what she's been doing to get it like that. She needed to look professional, not like she had just gotten out of a merry-go-round.

Buccaneer, despite all his straight forwardness and lack of inhibition, was surprisingly attentive to her. He always appeared out of nowhere when she needed him and he looked after his commander as if she was his sister. He always took care of everyone and shadowed those who required his protection, but he had a soft spot for Olivier, who was like a surrogate family to him.

When she deemed herself ready, she looked up at the large man. "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me, Captain?"

"Aye, Sir, Major Miles has just returned."

"Send him here, then!" she said a little too harshly, but the Captain ignored her tone. He simply nodded and turned to the door to look for the Major. As he closed the door behind him, he saw his commandant jump from the chair she was seated on and change it for her usual one, rigidly standing by the wall.

Buccaneer had to chuckle a little at her fumbling. Armstrong had a strange way of showing affection and longing. She was the kind who would beat someone up to prove that she cared about them, but she had a good heart. Somewhere buried deep under sharp shards of ice, but it was still a good heart.

He ventured to Miles' room. He rapped at the door and opened it before he was answered. "The queen's requesting for you, mate," he said, making the quarter Ishbalan jolt. "What's with you?" Buccaneer asked a little concerned, but not too much. Everyone shivered when the General called them, but he suspected Miles did it for very different reasons than most.

"Ah, nothing, I just hoped I'd get to rest a little before I go. Is she still snappy from the training?"

Buccaneer grinned toothily and looked down at his automail arm. "What do you think?"

"Remind me, why do I still bother asking?" Miles muttered and shook his head. "I guess the sooner, the better, huh?"

"Mhm, I guess so," his friend encouraged him. "Look, if she gets a little too... excited to see you, I promise I will scrape you off the furniture and bury you somewhere nice."

"Thank you, that makes me feel better." Shaking his head, the Major opened his travelling bag from where he took out a little package and showed it to the Captain. "I found this for your collection, I thought you might like it."

Buccaneer accepted the box and opened it, his grin becoming so large it reached his ears. "Thanks a bunch, Miles, I didn't have the drum player!" he exclaimed and approached the little metallic figure to the ceiling illumination to have a better look at it. "Mate, this is so great, you've completed my band! Seriously, thanks a lot!"

"No problem," Miles made dismissively, knowing how much the big man loved those little sculptures. He wondered why everybody was so surprised that Buccaneer collected metal figures - he was bragging about his automail all day long. Why not cover his room with some more metal?

"Alright, I'll go see the General now. Wish me luck," Miles said tersely and they both exited the room. He locked the door and adjusted his goggles.

"Sure, break a leg, Major," Buccaneer replied airily.

The shorter officer looked up at him with a frown. "I really hope it won't be literally."

"You never know with the Ice Queen."

Miles shrugged. "Well, if I don't show up for dinner, you can start looking for that nice place to bury me."

Laughter rumbled next to him. "Don't worry, Sir, I've picked it a long time ago! Anyway, stop delaying it, or I will have to peel you off the walls for real."

Miles clicked his tongue and turned for the office. Behind him, Buccaneer whistled loudly. "By the way, Major, killer tan you've got there!"

In response, Miles raised his hand to the other soldier and waved him off, thinking that he might have sat too much in the sun. But he was proving a point there.

He walked the distance to the office and knocked at the door before entering. "Good afternoon, Sir," he saluted.

"Ah, I see you've returned a day earlier, Major. I believe your permission has been restful, am I correct?" Olivier asked, looking straight into his covered eyes. Miles noticed that his chair was a little inclined to the side, but he didn't comment on that.

"Plentifully restful, Sir, thank you," he replied politely.

"Ah, great, because you've got a good pile of work waiting with your name on it," she commented with a strange glint in her eyes. She pointed to the overflowing paper tray on his desk and Miles wanted to go and scream until that paperwork disappeared. He perfectly understood how Mustang felt when he saw how many reports he had to read, because he was feeling that way too. Cutting icicles was often more fun than doing paperwork.

"I'm looking forward to get to it."

Armstrong was enjoying his fallen face a bit too much. "Don't act too ecstatic, Miles, you might get more if I see you love it so much."

"I think I'll have to pass the offer, Sir, but thank you," he said hastily. "If I may be excused, I'd like to rest, the train travelling was tiring."

"Of course," she said, still staring at him. She admired the darkness of his skin against his bleached locks, enjoying the powerful contrast. She might have been a little selfish for making her adjuvant go South on his leave, when he could have chosen any other destination that he actually wanted to see, but she liked watching him after he was kissed by the sun and his dark skin gleamed with health. He looked so much better than when he was cooed up inside the electrically lit fort, which usually earned him a greyish hue that made him look sick.

Miles nodded at her. "Thank you. Have a good afternoon, Sir," he said and turned to the door. On an afterthought, he returned his gaze at her. "Pardon me for asking, but have you eaten anything today?" he demanded, his brows knitted together in concern.

"Why, Major, are you afraid I might get ill? Don't you worry, Buccaneer did a fine job on forcing me to eat and sleep. But I'd be careful if I were you, he might take your place when you're not paying attention."

"I'm convinced of that. Well, Sir, if you'll excuse me." With that, Miles left the room, reminding himself to thank the Captain for taking care of their commander while he was away.

XXXXX

Later that evening, Olivier found herself staring at the greyish ceiling. It was the only spot that wasn't occupied by anything in her room. Her walls were full of scotched drawings and nailed maps. Her personal desk was an utter mess. She thought she should make some order through the papers and books scattered over it, but as long as the frame containing her family's photograph was still visible, that unpleasant ordeal could wait.

She drummed her fingers against her thigh, bored to stay awake and do nothing. She didn't feel like reading anything or sketching in her notebook. She had been using her eyes enough, they needed some rest from papers and written words, and her hands started to twitch when she clenched her fists.

It might not have been the best idea to send the Major away for a whole week, but she needed to cool off without him. She had sent him as far as she could to make sure he returned when he ought to, not earlier like he sometimes did. He had only returned a day earlier, which was manageable. She needed some time to think alone, without having someone breathing down her back.

That didn't mean she didn't appreciate his attention, on the contrary, but her assistant was too good of a man to have to listen to her inner musings when he was so tired. He looked so much better than when he'd left, so Olivier concluded the little vacation did him good.

She looked at the large coffee package that stood on her nightstand. She took it with her to wrap some beans in satchels and put them between towels. Their smell always relaxed her, she was so thankful that Miles remembered to buy her some.

She looked at the burner and the kettle over it and set herself to brewing some coffee for her and her assistant. She could at least check out if he was sleeping and if he wasn't, they could share a cup or two. He could tell her what he's seen. He must have entered every gallery, shop and pub he'd found, he definitely had some interesting stories.

Olivier filled a tall thermos with coffee and wrapped a blue robe around herself. She was only wearing some nondescript pants and a shirt and the corridors were a bit chilly even in summer. She walked steadily, not encountering anyone on her short trip.

Just as she turned around the corner, she saw Buccaneer exiting Miles' room. "Sure, mate, that's a plan!" he said. "We'll show those new recruits what it means to be a Briggs Bear, alright," the larger man stated proudly.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Miles averted his friend. "Personally, I haven't sparred in a while and I have tons of work to do, so let's keep it amicable."

"Don't we always?"

"No, we never do," Miles retorted. Olivier saw him cross his arms over his chest.

"I'll see what I can do, Major, so your delicate body wouldn't be strained. You'll be able to sign papers after that, don't worry."

"Ta, what a relief! Goodnight, Buccaneer."

"Night, Sir!" the taller man boomed and left the stark corridor, heading for the personnel barracks.

She heard her assistant sigh profoundly. He kicked his door closed and Olivier waited a little while to make sure no one came her way. After a few minutes, she knocked at his door.

"Seriously, Buccaneer, what's- Oh, Major General," Miles said dumbly when he noticed it was his superior instead of the loud Captain. "Um, can I help you, Sir?"

"You could let me in, for starters," she suggested. "I've made coffee and I thought we could share it."

Miles nodded and backed off, allowing Olivier to enter his quarters, and then locked the door behind them.

His room was similar to hers, only that it was far better organised. He took the liberty to transform it into something that appeared mildly cosy, as much as anything military could get. He had separated what was dubbed as the 'bedroom' from the little makeshift study with a paper screen. The said 'study' consisted in a desk, a striped armchair, some misfit chairs and a tall foot lamp he requested for reading. In the back, he had his own bathroom with a working shower, the one thing he appreciated the most in his room. No one could witness nor interrupt his singing under the water when he bathed.

"Isn't it a bit too late for coffee, Sir?" he asked and showed Olivier to the desk which also worked as a table, because he didn't have one.

"It's never too late for coffee, Miles. You still have the day off tomorrow, you can stay up a bit later," she remarked. "Or are you too tired? Do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine," Miles replied at once. "I just thought you might have gone to bed already."

"At ten in the afternoon? Not even when I'm sick, I don't fall asleep that early," Olivier made scandalised. She took the two upturned mugs from the desk and poured some steaming coffee in them. "You've brought me some good smelling coffee, Major," she praised him. She stirred some sugar from a bowl in her coffee and took a large gulp, ignoring how hot it was. "Mhm, good stuff," she agreed and smacked her lips together.

Miles smiled at her. "Aren't you going to take your mug?" she asked him. He continued to smile and took the cup between his palms. "So, tell me about your trip," she requested.

He started talking about what he had done and seen. Olivier watched him intently and nodded from time to time, showing she was listening. Whenever she took another swallow of her drink, her eyes closed, soon opening to stare back at him.

With time, the intensity of her gaze increased. Miles tried to look composed, but he couldn't. The blonde was literally ogling at him and he couldn't look into her eyes anymore without having to blink continuously. He started regretting putting down his goggles, it was impossible to avert his gaze without her knowledge. His eyes were accidently caught by his travelling bag and they strayed in its direction frequently.

Obviously, Olivier noticed. "Miles, why are you looking so much at your luggage?" she interrupted him. "Is there something I shouldn't see?"

He gulped, remembering the strange box he had brought with him from the South City. He might have been fairly confident buying it, but in the present, he definitely wasn't. "It's nothing, I'm just a bit tired."

"Really, huh? Why didn't you say so when I've asked you?" Olivier smirked darkly and rose from her seat. She went straight to the bag and crouched next to it.

Miles thought that he should tell her to stop looking through his things, but he knew that he would be ignored. Just like he assumed she would do, Olivier rummaged through his bag. "You haven't unpacked until this hour, Major! Where's your discipline?" she teased. He didn't dignify that with an answer, he was too mortified to say anything.

Olivier pulled out a black box from the bottom of the bag. He really should start unpacking his things the moment he reached the fort - he always left everything in his travelling bag and it took him ages to take them out.

Unaware of Miles' inner turmoil, Olivier turned the box on each side. "What's this?" she inquired, measuring the rather large package. "Is this from some perfume or-" She opened the box and stopped talking. "What are you doing with this thing?" She snapped her head up to him.

The woman pulled out some strange looking straps and raised them to her eye level. She put them on the floor and looked at what remained in the box. "Um, Miles? What's a plastic dick doing in your bag?" she asked, lifting the black dildo and pointing its bulbous head at him.

Miles gaped at her like a fish. That was the same question he's been asking himself too, what a coincidence.

Olivier looked up from the device in her hand. "Why would you have these?" She placed the box on the floor, but she didn't let go of the rubber penis.

Miles thought he'd black out. He actually hoped he would, because he didn't know how to respond to that. Olivier got to her feet, but not before she had lifted the harness from the floor. "Don't stand there staring at me, dammit! I've asked you what you're doing with these. That's all I want to know." She was imagining all sorts of things, some of them that she didn't care to voice out.

"Well, you see..." he started and waved vaguely.

"I happen to see very well, thank you."

"That's not what I've meant," he snapped. After taking a deep breath, he told her about how he came into the possession of that strange device, all the time looking anywhere but at her. She started looking more relieved and something that resembled a smile was creeping up her face.

When he eventually finished, Olivier burst into laughter. "Oh Gods, you are a salesman's dream! Why on Earth would you buy that?" She was still chortling when she patted his shoulder, like she was consoling him. "You do realise you're not tying me anywhere, right?" She lifted the harness and waved it at him.

"It's not exactly for that," he whispered.

"Hm?" She opened the folded straps and took a better look at them. Her mouth turned into a circle. "Ah, pardon me. So, this is- Ah, I know what this is!" she made triumphantly. She turned it and looked at the large hoops at the base. "Aren't these a few sizes too big for you, you're quite slender for- whoa, wait a moment, is this for me? No way," she wolf-whistled. She raised her blue eyes at him, radiating with fake childishness. "Are you serious?"

Miles wasn't sure what he would do if she kept on making fun of him. He's made many bad choices in his life, why did she have to mock him for every single one of them?

Olivier chuckled and put the objects on the desk, next to the forgotten cups. She approached the chair that her partner seemed to try to catch roots on and sat on his lap, looking into his crimson eyes. "Don't make that face," she said and poked his cheeks. She smiled and closed the gap between them, getting closer to him until their lips touched.

Miles didn't exactly respond as sought - he just stood inertly and blinked dumbly, his vision foggy. Olivier gritted her teeth and punched him in the shoulder. "Tsk, did you get short-wired?"

He rapidly shook his head and looked at her. "Sorry, Olivier, I've told you it's a bit complicated-"

"Complicated? How come?"

"Well, um-"

"Tsk, spit it out already! You want me to fuck you or not?" Olivier asked gracelessly and crossed her arms. She leaned backwards, clenching her grip around his hips not to fall off. She watched him cringe and she couldn't help shaking her head disapprovingly. "Seriously, Miles, I think we've reached the age when we're considered adults, don't start telling me you've suddenly developed some sort of bleached imagination and pristine vocabulary."

"No, evidently not! All I'm saying is that I didn't exactly think it through."

"Really?" Her face was the epitome of innocence as she pressed her hands to his chest. "No shit!"

Miles scolded back at her. "As always, thank you for the note of confidence," he made sarcastically. He looked down and rapped his fingers on her hips, feeling his ears getting red. He wetted his lips and put her hands lower on his chest from where they originally were, uncomfortably close to his neck.

Olivier regarded him annoyed and Miles thought she might make him regret being born if he didn't make his case quickly. He squeezed her thigh to lengthen his agony until he found the right words. "We, um- we could try it, because you seemed to enjoy- well, you know what," he motioned largely, "and I know it's a bit strange, but it can't be that bad, right? I don't know if you'd like-"

"Like?" she made incredulous, almost in disbelief. She smacked their lips together, deciding he was just playing stupid. What woman in their right mind wouldn't want to take their man up their arse? Well, perhaps not so many, but she didn't exactly qualify as normal.

Miles shook out of his trance and returned the kiss, encircling her with his arms. She shifted and caught him firmly between her thighs. She opened her mouth and welcomed him deeper, their kiss getting more heated with each stroke of their tongues.

He fluidly lifted her up and she gripped his shoulder tightly, afraid he might drop her. She secured her legs around him as she was walked across the room to the edge of the bed, where he finally let go of her without much ceremony.

Olivier fell on her back, bouncing a little on the mattress. She pulled Miles over her and they returned to making out fervently, tightly clinging to each other. She rolled on top of him and pushed him on his back. She shrugged out of her robe and his hands immediately found the hem of her top, which he discarded swiftly. The blonde wasted no time to open her bra, casting it aside somewhere. She rose on her knees and lowered her pants and undergarments to her ankles, finally getting rid of them. "Undress," she ordered simply and returned to ravaging his mouth.

Miles fumbled under her, his movements limited by her position. He managed to open his shirt and awkwardly kicked off his pants and boxers. His legs did a strange movement and then he was finally naked.

"Mhm, much better," Olivier hummed in his ear and set herself to roaming her hands over his body. She felt his quickening pulse and bit hard on his collar, licking around the exposed flesh. He groaned and his arms shot down to her hips, where he grounded his fingers as her teeth grazed over his chest.

He caught her bottom and squeezed it to get her attention. "Get up," he said softly into her hair and pulled her higher, towards his upper body. "I want to taste you, come here," he said and his pupils suddenly grew larger, until his red eyes were almost black.

Oliver rose to her feet on the bed and looked down at him. She made small steps, each of her feet on the other side of him. She turned around and slowly kneeled, her face turned from him and eyes fixating his groin with a Cheshire grin.

Miles fluidly caught her hips and jerked her up to him, but he barely made any contact with her lower body before she plunged down. Like a cat, she swiftly grabbed his hardening cock and gave it a squeeze, lowering her head to leave a fluttering kiss on the top. His clenched hands lay her flat over his chest and eased her upwards.

Her mouth on his member disappeared as she was pulled up on him, their difference in heights suddenly evident. He bent as much as he could to accommodate the smaller woman and she looked behind her back to him, laughing. "Nice moves, Major!"

Not wanting to respond to her taunts, he merely departed her buttocks, allowing his fingers to wander over her slick lower lips. He stuck his tongue out and slowly drew a line from her clit to her clenching hole, where he dived in breathlessly. She gasped over him and grabbed his leg with a firm grip, keeping him steady as she opened her mouth to envelop his throbbing member.

Olivier closed her eyes in bliss and bobbed her head greedily, hollowing her cheeks with each powerful suck. She flattened her tongue under his length and opened her throat to take him in deeper, breathing in deeply not to accidently choke. The mouth on her cunt worked more fervently as her palms insinuated themselves between his legs.

She spread them apart slowly, almost unnoticeable, and slid her hand down to his balls. She played with them languidly, cupping and rolling them slowly, lazily, enjoying the warmth of the flesh. Her mouth opened and his cock slid out, trailing across her cheek and landing wetly on his stomach. Olivier blew hot air over the sensitive skin and left moist kisses on the inside of his thighs, tongue slowly drawing repetitive patterns. Confidently, the blonde woman bit his right buttock and circled the area with the tips of her fingers, rubbing and pinching the skin until it was brilliant red.

She heard Miles taking in a sharp breath as she got closer to his rear, making her halt any movement. He stopped as well, his mouth leaving her lower muscles clenching with abandon, missing the tongue and fingers that were spreading them open and invading their tightness so perfectly right. He bent his knees, signalling for her to get up.

Olivier did get up, but she didn't turn to look at him. She jumped off the bed and padded to the small desk, her back turned ostentatiously to him. She took the harness and the detachable dildo and threw them back, hitting Miles straight into the face with them.

"You're a doll, you know," he stuttered as he put the objects aside, startled by the flying rubber dick and its confines. Olivier let out a breathy chuckle and walked to the discarded bag on the floor, bending to rummage through it. "Of course I am," she replied breezily, searching through the insides of the luggage.

Miles watched her with interest, partly because she was offering quite the unveiled image bending down with her back right at him, but also because he didn't know what she was looking for. Somehow, his curiosity won out and he started gazing solely at the bag.

His commanding officer must have been able to read his mind, because she swiftly kneeled, hiding whatever modesty she had left, and turned her head to him. "Keep making those clueless faces and I'm leaving," she averted and returned to her task.

Miles rotated towards the foot of the bed and rolled on his stomach, placing his head in his palms. "What are you looking for?" he asked her, watching how she threw out his clothing from the bag. "Is this a way of telling me I should unpack? I would have done it eventually!"

Olivier got to her feet victoriously and turned on her heels, holding up a small bottle for him to see. "You didn't think it through, huh? So what are you doing with this?" she made and threw the lubricant to his head. Miles ducked and the bottle flew over him, accompanied by the Major General, who plopped next to him on the mattress. She grabbed his ponytail, forcing him to prop himself on his elbows and she kissed him messily, biting his lips and coaxing him to stand up.

Miles hummed around their mouths and sneaked his arms around her waist. He pulled her on top of him and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. She blinked, feeling more naked than she already was under his heavy gaze. To break the intense lock, she reached for the bottle of lubricant she has thrown across the bed. The blonde opened the cap and sniffed the subtly scented liquid. Her blue eyes were sincere in front of his, watching him with unguarded fragility. "Are you sure about this?"

"No," he replied and shrugged.

"Sounds fair to me," she said and nudged him to open his legs. He silently watched her pour the clear liquid on her hand and lowered it to his bottom, where the tip of her fingers touched him a little shyly. He flinched due to the coolness of the lubricant, but he didn't say a word, opting to wait patiently for her to make up her mind.

Bold digits encircled his entrance and one even dared to break into the tight ring of muscles, which clenched at the intrusion. Miles' neck bended backwards and his head hit the mattress as she bravely pushed one single finger inside him. Olivier's mouth soon found his slightly deflating cock, not awfully interested by what was happening to its owner. The Ishbalan drew deep, steadying breaths, his eyes shut and an arm over his forehead.

She looked up and saw him. She wanted to leave what she was doing and ask him if he was okay, because he definitely didn't look so, but he opened his legs wider and motioned for her to continue. Olivier closed her eyes and casually took his length down to the base, while her finger prodded into the slowly relaxing hole.

Impatiently, she added another finger and the resistance she got was surprisingly little, so she kept up her pace. She left his cock and went up his body to kiss him, another digit entering him as her tongue conquered his mouth.

Miles groaned throatily and grabbed her hair, twisting it around his fist. She slapped his hip with her free hand and took out the other, leaving him spread open and panting.

The strange intrusion has made Miles dizzy, his senses drunk on the overwhelming sensation. He wanted those damned fingers away from him and at the same time, he wanted them more, somewhere deeper and better. He felt so open and honest in front of his lover, with his body pulsing madly for something more of that sweet torture she administered so readily. He should have felt violated instead, but when he opened his eyes and saw her tying the intricate leather harness and then carefully coating the stiff appendage at its front with an important amount of lubrication, he remembered she would never do anything to harm him and that was another reason why he loved her.

Their gazes met and Olivier smiled a little. "I think it'd be better if you got on your knees," she suggested. He nodded and turned with his back to her. The cold fingers returned to his rear and dived in a few more times, making him gasp. It wasn't very comfortable, but he was starting to get accustomed to it. He felt slightly abandoned when the fingers disappeared.

Miles' eyes budged out and he buried his face in the pillows when he felt something much larger breaching into the still tight ring of muscles. The phallus moved forward, spreading him apart in its unnatural direction. His breath quickened and he fisted the sheets as the rubber cock revealed all its length inside him and Olivier's stomach was pressed against his back. "That's a sight to behold," she said appraisingly, looking at their joined bodies, and slapped him playfully on the right bottom cheek. "Are you okay?"

Miles lifted his arm and waved vaguely, not trusting his voice. He didn't know whether he was alright or not because those shivers creeping up his spine were like nothing he has ever felt before.

Olivier interpreted his wave as an affirmative answer and withdrew slowly, pushing back inside with a little more enthusiasm than before.

Why the woman assumed that Miles would suddenly feel relaxed around a plastic dick sticking into his arse, it escaped him, but he didn't comment. The thrusts, slightly snappy and irregular at their inception, were getting steadier and better paced, though it was still uncomfortable. All that he registered was some dull pain and an eerie stretching, nothing more.

Those were his thoughts before something in him exploded and everything started to feel more intense than ever. Olivier, in all her fumbling, has hit his prostate and everything around Miles stopped existing, just that powerful buzz in his ears and the quivering of his stomach still made some sense to him.

Deeply pleased by the noises she was getting, Olivier moaned above him, finding a good rhythm that made the straps rub against her throbbing need. She grabbed his hip tighter and imitated what he would do to her, pounding inside him harder, trying to hit the same spot as before. Miles groaned, the words coming out of his mouth incomprehensibly, and he started welcoming each of her thrust, pushing back to meet her faster and deeper than before, shifting to catch up with her.

He let out a strangled shout when her hand found his stiff cock, so much harder than ever. "You sure like this," she commented between shaky breaths, her hips aching but unfaltering in their determined pace. She couldn't stop, not when her man was so vocal about what she did to him. He never made such noises, ever - they were music to her ears and she wanted more of that.

Olivier leaned forward, her fingers clawing into his hips. She kissed him between his shoulder blades and rested her forehead there. Her grip on his cock tightened and her thrust became shorter, deeper and faster, struggling to please.

Miles' breath came out unevenly and high-pitched at the end, encouraging her to continue. His head was swimming with each rock of their hips and all he could do was chase after her body, to retain the sensations she was delivering for a bit longer. He moaned and grunted, unable to form anything coherent, until it all transformed into haze and his muscles clenched and hips stuttered.

Oliver got out of him swiftly and rolled him on his back. He didn't register that, it was all in a blur when she moved the straps to the side and lowered herself on his weeping cock. She shivered and started moving up and down his length, both of them so wet the friction didn't exist. The tip of his hard member impaled her insides and he grabbed her, bounced her over his length fervently.

His cavernous grunts echoed around the room as he came powerfully. Like a whisper, he heard Olivier scream her climax over him, covering him with her hot release. She collapsed on his chest and they looked at each other, panting and blinking stupidly.

With shaky hands, Olivier unclasped the straps around her legs, wincing as she leather dug out from her skin. She slowly dismounted him and freed herself from the harness, cum sliding down her leg as she stretched a little. She tossed the toys aside and kissed Miles tenderly, revelling in his scent and trembling embrace.

Miles rolled them around, so he would be on top of her, but his knees gave out under him. He landed over her torso and she started laughing cheerily, tangling her fingers in his hair. "You are such a slut, Miles," she said good-naturedly and stroked his white locks fondly. She tugged the loose strands behind his ear and left a few chaste kisses along his jaw line. "You looked good like that, on your knees and mauling. You're a wonder to one's ego."

Miles blushed deeply and poked her cheek with his nose. "That's a bit far-fetched, I didn't maul."

"If you don't believe me, I'm going to record you the next time and put you on the fort's station. You can ask the others what they think about it," Olivier said with a great grin. "I should have you photographed and put you on the fort's walls, you'd increase the men's productivity by a hundred percent, at least!"

"Olivier!" he exclaimed.

"Mhm, you're right," she agreed frowning, "I'd personally slice anyone who'd look at those pictures."

"Olivier, stop right there," Miles put a palm over her mouth. "There's absolutely no need for anything like that, but I'm glad you enjoyed it."

She bit his hand to let herself speak. "Don't give me that, Mister, you liked it too," she said and traced her wet fingers over his face, smearing his chin and lips with their spent. "See? I think you liked it quite well!"

Miles chuckled and captured her wandering digit inside his mouth, sucking lightly on it. Olivier smirked and kissed him again. She pushed him aside and nestled on his chest, peppering small, loving pecks over it.

Miles smiled and stroked her hair. He placed a small kiss on top of her head. He felt surprisingly tired, but he guessed it was due to the long train trip from that day. Olivier, on top of his chest, looked ready to doze off from the vigorous physical exercise, so he guessed it was time for them to retire for the night.

He caught the blanket with his toes and jerked it upwards. He covered them both and circled his arms around his queen, deciding to overlook that the lights were evidently opened and shining right into his eyes. He should have shut them, but he didn't have it in him to get up and go to the switch. He wasn't even sure he would be able to get up, because his rear was protesting with each of his movement.

He kissed her hair one more time and closed his eyes, counting how many hours they would have until she would eventually have to go to her own room. That would have to be quite soon, because the days started early at the fort and people could see her sneaking out, but he could enjoy that little peace while it lasted.

Olivier smirked pleased, shifting more comfortable over him. "Remind me to look for that nice woman who made you buy that shit and thank her in person."

"Go to sleep, Olive, and stop speaking stupid things."

"Nonsense," she made drowsily, her eyelids heavy and voice small. "I'll give you more permissions if you return with stuff like this from them," she added and lowered her hand to his now fairly placid cock. He caught her wrist and put her arm back next to his.

"Stop talking and close your eyes," Miles whispered in her ear. He heard her grumble, but she put her head back on his chest. All was silent for a moment, before she kissed his collar. "Thanks for the - you know," she said.

"Mhm."

"Sorry for snapping at you lately," she added on a second thought. She looked up at him and she saw Miles open his eyes with surprise. "I think it's time to go to sleep, you're right," she blurted hastily. She needed to shut up before she started being too sappy. He was the kind and romantic one, not her. She shouldn't steal his spotlight.

Miles nodded. "Please do, you're turning into a nice person and we can't have that."

Olivier shivered and childishly closed her eyes, like that would hide her from the world. He chuckled, the sound in his chest reverberating inside her ears, and he hugged her tighter. "Goodnight, my love," Miles said in a shushed voice.

"Mhm," she hummed and entangled her fingers in his. She squeezed his hand and moved it to her chest, closing her eyes when his skin brushed over her breast. She smiled and snuggled closer to his neck. "Goodnight to you, too."

XXXXX

"Major! Major, wait!" Buccaneer shouted after him. "We were supposed to spar today, where are you going?"

Miles felt his nerves snap and his back scream for about the same reason. As much as he had felt good during the previous night, just as much his lower body ached the following day. He had no idea how he had dragged himself out of bed that morning, perhaps because the Major General started shouting at him that he should clean up his room – not that hers was any tidier, she just didn't stand seeing someone sleeping when she had to get up at an ungodly hour – but he was sure that nothing in him would resist a fight, be it just demonstrative, against the bear of a man that was Buccaneer. He enjoyed being able to walk on his own two feet and not on crutches, and fighting him in his state would definitely result in serious injuries.

"Sir, I've been running after you the entire day!" Buccaneer made indignantly, the bow in his braid swinging as he motioned frantically.

"Pardon me, Captain, I had places to be," Miles replied apologetically and started walking slowly, wanting to flee as gallantly as he could without stumbling. His hips balanced a little too much and he jumped a bit with each step, but he hoped it wasn't as visible as he imagined it. "I'm not sure we'll be able to do it today," he added and struggled to walk perfectly straight, more so than usual, with a faint pain shooting up his spine.

Buccaneer's eyes widened comically and his hands shot up in the air. "No way, Sir! What happened to your team spirit? Is there something wrong? Are you sick?"

"Ah, no, what makes you say that?"

The Captain shrugged. "I don't know, Sir, you've behaved funny since breakfast and you walk a bit strange, but it might be just me," he said doubtfully. "Are you hurt?"

Suddenly, Miles was thankful for his newly acquired tan, because he could feel himself getting terribly red and it masked that a little. He lowered his head between his shoulders and shook his head. "I'm alright, I've simply slid on a slippery stair, nothing much," he retorted casually.

"That's a nasty thing, Sir, you should be more careful! I heard of people who've fallen like that and couldn't walk anymore, it's nothing to joke about! But you can walk, right?"

"Err, obviously."

"Then why not try a bit of exercise? It helps a lot with the pain, my sister always twisted her ankles, she's got two left feet, you see, and she kept on running so it wouldn't hurt anymore. You can try it too!"

At that, Miles didn't have a good answer to get out of that situation. According to the other officer, he'd have to repeat whatever had caused his pain or at least strain the aching area, but that particular reasoning made him a little flustered – something he really didn't need if he were to spar in front of a crowd.

He had to find a plausible way out of his promise.

As if fate finally took pity on him, sure steps approached them. "There you were, Major," Armstrong made displeased, appearing behind the officers. "Where are the formularies from the transfers? Captain, I don't like seeing you holding my assistant from working," she scolded and Buccaneer visibly shrunk under her scrutiny. "Did you two become fond of cutting icicles?" he asked them. They looked at each other and shook their heads. "Tsk, I thought so," she said and waved at Miles to follow her. "You'd better make yourself useful, Buccaneer, before I make you be useful somewhere you wouldn't like it."

"Yes, Sir!" the Captain shouted and saluted her stiffly.

Miles followed her in a stroll, walking a little strained, but thankfully free of anything that would render him completely useless. "Thanks a lot," he said and fell into her steps.

"Don't thank me yet, Major," she replied dangerously. "I still want my formularies checked, and I think I want them today, not tomorrow."

Miles sighed and followed her to the office, his vacation officially over – a day sooner, at that. At least he wouldn't make a mess of himself in front of the soldiers.

"By the way, Major," Olivier told him as they walked together, "Buccaneer's right, you should be more careful. Falling down the stairs is a nasty business, indeed," she said with a smirk and strode in front of him, her long blonde hair swinging about her.

Miles grunted something and clasped his hands behind his back, once again questioning his choices.

From the end of the corridor, Buccaneer looked at the two departing officers who were just turning around the corner. "Didn't Miles have today off, too?" he asked himself and scratched his neck, mentally replaying the conversation he had with the Major the previous night. He shrugged and left to continue his duties for the day – it wasn't his place to question his superiors' decisions.

However, knowing his said superiors, the Captain thought he didn't want to know the answer to his dilemma all that much. He could live without knowing things from their perspective.

All in all, he enjoyed his limited view.


A/N: Ta-ta, that was that! Please tell me what you think of this and thank you for reading! In case you're interested in what else I've written, please check my profile. Thank you very much for the support!

Until the next time, bye-bye!