Nothing is true unless you say it out loud. A child's hidden wet bet sheets, a best friend's secret of something she shouldn't have done, the name of someone you love. The Lieutenant and I exchange many truths throughout each day. "The papers have been filed," "the letter's been sent," "I'd like you to set up a morning meeting with the Lieutenant General." But the truths left unsaid are much too complicated and have no place in Central.
"Understood, Colonel."
In its place is that cool voice; that which I've heard speak but two tones, maybe three now that I think about it. I'm remembering now the one she uses on special occasions when she thinks I've done something to put myself in danger. A decibel below angry, one above disappointed. But no matter the tone, always composed. Our relationship does not allow me to hear her otherwise. Even at Ishval, among cooking corpses and flying bullet shells, her voice never faltered, never rose, or even shivered.
The first night I came to see her, I expected it to do all three. At the very least, I expected her to scold me for coming so unprepared, with not a word planned in advance, standing at her doorway like a mute. Her look of surprise faded in my silence. She spoke. Without words but with touch; and the moment her fingers met mine in guidance to the inside of her room, we entered its arcane realm.
Since then, every body part has become a dialect. With my hands, I pronounce the tight curvatures of her breasts, fingertips to pinch their hard consonants, lips to quell the stutters of her trembling shoulders when she gets close. We confess our lists of unsaid truths, which grow with every glance, with every cup of coffee, and with every whiff I catch of her hair. Her eyes speak in voices I have never heard from her in uniform. She coos, and whispers; she begs, and moans. And in all that time, our lips part only to breath and to kiss. The look on her face walks me through.
To the right
Higher
Deeper
Rougher
More.
The Lieutenant is strong. Underneath me, she writhes and bucks but she bites her lip in accordance with our tacit contract. On some nights, I am not as strong-willed and her tight, sweating, heaving, gyrating body drives me close to insanity and my dry throat releases a held in groan. This sends her over the edge. She takes me in a new position, claiming me roughly with no inhibitions, her body spread in a lewd and erotic show of every inch of her anatomy. It's enough to make a man go mad.
"Colonel," she says.
She has caught me in a daze and I haven't heard a word of what she's said.
"If you are not feeling well, please stay at home. Your incompetence compromises the entire unit," her voice is as sharp as her look. She turns coolly to consult the rest of her work.
I hold my tongue; and save it for later.
Another impulsive one-shot. I was thinking back to the scene where Hawkeye tells Envy that Roy always calls her "Riza" when they're alone to break him out of his disguise- but then she takes it back right after and it made me realize that so much of their relationship is unspoken. I may write a part two to this so please leave a review and let me know what you think.