Title: Tumbled Scars
Genres: Romance/Angst
Couple: Miles/Olivier
Rated: M (graphic lemon)
"One day you will ask me which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life."
Even for Briggs Bears, there were limits for how long one could survive in the snow. It was fatal, a temperature far below "freezing", making the term "warmth" seem like a joke. What was warmth? It no longer existed in the North, where even wooly animals had to search for shelter before the icy winds snatched their life.
Here, it was no place for a human being to wander. They were both fully clothed, wearing extra layers, their coats firmly around their body, tightly keeping in as much heat as possible. However the effect was only minimal, and they both decided it was best they find shelter, if lucky, and wait it out. Neither would survive if they continued.
Near the evening, Major Miles spotted a small cave up ahead. It would still be freezing in there but the two would be sheltered, protected from the scarring snowflakes which continuously scratched their flesh. Blood was beginning to trickle from their wounds, and the officers would be foolish if they didn't decide to stop.
Exhaling loudly, Miles slowed his pace once entering the cave. It went a few metres. Miles reached the end and was comforted with how far from the entrance they were. More sheltered and less targeted from the wind. It was naïve to think wood would be nearby so there was no point in making a fire. Sleep would not come easy tonight.
Olivier remained silent. If Miles didn't know her as well as he did, the woman would have looked bored to him. However he had a hunch she was thinking deeply. Something had caught her mind and halted her from living in reality. Whilst unpacking their small bag of equipment, he sneakily stole a glimpse of her bright eyes.
Sad. She was sad.
His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly returned to what he was doing. Silence developed between them for a long time, and when Miles began to make a meal for them both, she still wasn't speaking. No orders; nothing. He rose his head from the tin of food, quirking an eyebrow.
'Are you hungry, sir?'
'No.' And that was it. Olivier's gaze remained on the wall, as if it were the most fascinating thing she had even seen. Miles furrowed his brows. He studied her, trying to figure out what was wrong, but, in a way, he sort of knew. It had only been a week since she lost so many of her men. It was an unusual experience for her; one she wasn't used to.
Because of this, she constantly beat herself up. Where had she gone wrong? What could she have done to avoid death? They didn't need to die. Her orders were reckless. It was a cycle which never seemed to end, and Miles wished she would continue. He didn't blame her for anything that had happened. If anything, the day was a success.
Lid off, Miles dug into his dinner, eyes swerving towards his commander officer every now and again. Half finished, he placed the tin down: 'Sir, can I please make you––?'
'I'm leaving.' Olivier stood to her feet. She didn't look at him. Miles watched whilst she proceeded for the exit and suddenly he followed suit, reaching for her arm. 'Don't!' She exclaimed, before he touched her. Miles froze instantly. Their gaze remained locked. He was frantically searching for an answer in her eyes –– what's wrong? 'If I catch you trailing behind, Major, I'll make you regret it.'
With reluctance, Miles remained put.
Appetite gone, the man unfolded his blanket and spread it across the ground before lying down, hand behind his head, staring upwards. An hour passed. Two hours. He drowned into his own nagging thoughts and "what-ifs". Dammit, it was silly. There were so many more important situations to ponder over. The dead were dead. Gone. A fate no one could control.
Olivier was powerful, but she wasn't God.
–– What about me? Miles neglected to be by her side. Yet orders were orders. Transferral was a suitable, but cowardly escape. He hadn't been there. Captain Buccaneer left without a good bye, and as much as Miles tried to dismiss the guilt, he spent nights awake, feeling rotten and shit. His best friend –– the first man to love him for who he was –– vanished. Miles hadn't done anything to stop him from suffering. Anger bubbled within, loathing the monster who stabbed the blade through his gut.
A devilish grin twitched over his lips. Buccaneer earned his revenge, giving the homonculus the first blow before leaving this corrupted world.
Leaving them. Him. Her.
Miles' muscles tightened, fists clenching. Ever since, Olivier had acted so withdrawn. Unlike herself. Refusing to speak about the topic. She was there for his funeral, amongst many others, and by the time they returned to the Fort, Miles knew she was beaten. The Ice Queen is never beaten. Yet as much as he wanted to believe this, he was a realistic man: Olivier was human. She still felt. Still fell.
And there was nothing he could do.
The revelation squeezed his heart in agony. Miles would do anything for the Major General. He would give his own life to preserve hers. But right now –– he was useless. Swallowing, he sat upright and ran a hand though his white locks. Miles raised his knees and propped his elbows on them, thoughts continuing to torture him.
He looked at the open tin of food, then took it, prodding his fork into the energy source. Miles' stomach grumbled and he gave in, munching miserably, freezing.
'You know, if you place your fourth finger onto the G, you'll have played a chord.'
Smiling slightly, Miles turned his head to face the commanding officer. She was obviously teasing him, but Olivier was surprised he had taken interest into the instrument. After all, a piano wasn't easy to master. However boredom must have drove him to open the flap and mess around.
From his hesitant notes, Olivier knew he would be capable of learning if time was given.
She proceeded over. Miles felt his cheeks flush when a hand brushed against his shoulder and then held his hand which was against the ivory.
'Try this...'
Smoothly she guided his fingers to the correct keys: E, A, D, G... E, A, B, A, B...
A beautiful tune emitted from the wooden instrument. One he didn't recognise, yet his ears devoured. His eyes lingered away from their hands for a moment to look at her. She was a different person entirely. He could see in her eyes how much passion she held for this piece. The piano. A dream she could only have lived through her childhood.
Then she caught him staring.
Miles instantly flinched and turned away, his hand jolting to his lap. Silence developed between them, and he heard her sigh, and walk away.
... Olivier.
How long had she been out? Jumping to his feet he raced for the exit, only to be surprised with a murderous blizzard of snow. He exclaimed, but was quick to adapt. Miles stepped outside further, his body rigid from the horrific chill. Fuck. He couldn't believe Olivier was still out here. A pang of worry stabbed his heart: is she still alive?
She had to be. Olivier wouldn't leave him. Damn, he hoped she wouldn't.
"If I catch you trailing behind, Major, I'll make you regret it."
Olivier wasn't lying, but he didn't care. Miles couldn't afford losing her right now. It was his job to keep her alive. Miles wouldn't allow Buccaneer's death to be worthless! Fury forced him onwards, his shades barricading the snow from harming his vision. The wind was powerful, almost knocking him off his feet.
Fortunately the soldier didn't have to travel very far. A shady silhouette grew nearer and nearer, its walk slow and gradual, uncaring. He inhaled sharply and trudged for the figure, ready to yell, ready to scream bloody murder, but when her face became more clearer all sense of anger vanished in an instant.
There was a reason she was out here.
And it wasn't to die.
Despite her threat, Olivier didn't make him regret finding her. She rose her head and stopped, watching him, as if expecting him to attack her. Miles would never consider harming his General. Instead he placed a hand on her shoulder, expression softening. The wind made them deaf, but he managed to speak loud enough for her to hear.
'We should head back.'
A silent agreement was made, and they returned to the cave in a couple of minutes. Inside he managed to examine her better: Olivier's lips were almost blue, black rings hung under her eyes and she looked as if she would faint any second. His other hand reached for the opposite shoulder, steadying her.
'You're freezing.'
'Thanks for stating the obvious.'
At least she was finally talking to him again.
Miles felt her eyes on him whilst he ripped off his jacket and hung it over her shoulders, before reaching for the blanket, wrapping her in it. She protested slightly but common sense rung and she stilled.
It wasn't warm enough.
He could hear her teeth chattering, feel her body shivering violently.
I shouldn't have let her go.
When he offered to give her another blanket she pushed him away.
'I'm not a kid, Major,' she scolded. 'I'm fine.'
'Sir, I insist. You're shivering––'
'And I am fine.' As if to prove herself, she pulled off the blanket and flung it at him. She breathed heavily, keeping something –– an emotion –– locked inside and with difficulty. 'Just leave me alone. God.'
Miles felt a tad insulted. 'As you wish.'
'Yeah I do wish!'
Her retort was childish, she knew that, but Olivier didn't care. She snatched her own blanket and walked to the far end of the cave, an implication she didn't want Miles coming anywhere near her tonight. She was not in the mood for chat. She wasn't in the mood for anything.
Grinding his teeth, Miles picked up his unwanted blanket and made use of it for himself. He wasn't mad. There was no need. He wasn't upset either. Just confused. He wanted to help her, but there wasn't a thing he could do. If the man was foolish enough to talk, she would berate him until he backed down.
He didn't know how long it had been since Olivier had moved away from him. Possibly several hours, he wasn't sure. The howling wind had calmed, but his body still lacked a severe amount of warmth. If he felt this way, then he could only imagine how much Olivier was suffering. This was one of the reasons why he couldn't fall asleep.
Wrapping the blanket around him tighter, Miles attempted to get into a comfortable position. There was a rock jabbing his side which he managed to reach after a while. Shutting his eyes closed, he tried to sleep... footsteps...
His body jolted and he snatched the collar of whoever had approached him.
At once Miles released her, scuffling back, gasping for breath. 'You scared the shit out of me, sir.'
Olivier didn't respond. In the dim light her eyes glowed, the rest of her features dark and gloomy. It was as if the only thing about her which lived was her eyes. Miles hadn't witnessed anything so beautiful.
Silence.
When she spoke, it was a whisper: 'Did you mean it?'
Miles didn't understand. 'Mean what?'
'When you said you loved me.'
His spine straightened and he froze, eyes wide. How could he have forgotten? How could she still remember? Why... was she mentioning this? It had been so long ago; a confession she demanded he get rid of. Her lack of response, while not her fault, felt harsh. "Rejected" was an understatement to how Miles felt.
Yet, in the end, he hadn't expected anything mutual.
Blood dripped from her cheek, pooling the ground below. Miles wanted to nurse her deep wound, but she was too distracted for him to reach her. They had fallen down a petty, but surprisingly effective Drachman trap. It went down for miles, and the man landed on softer ground than she. A rock scraped her cheek, a hip breaking in the process.
Yet she still stood firm.
The whistle worked, that much she was sure of and ordered him to wait. He had been in a soldier of the military for a year now, and had grown used to such dangerous situations. However he couldn't push away the concern.
'Sh–– Shall I check your injury, sir?'
'No,' she snapped, moving away. 'I'm fine.'
Miles insisted though. His hand found her arm and he pulled her to him. Olivier yelled, glaring daggers, but his fingertips reached the edge of her wound before she could pull back. If it weren't treated quickly, infection would spread.
Searching his trousers, Miles found a fresh tissue. She made a comment about him possessing such "silly equipment" but allowed him to wipe the fresh blood. Once her wound was more clear, Miles could inspect it further. Bits of soil occupied the injury. It needed to be cleaned.
There was only some water left in the bottle, but it was enough.
'Miles, this isn't necessary!'
'Yes it–– it is.' He still wasn't confident around her completely. At any moment she could impale him.
'You're acting silly.' Olivier broke free from his grasp.
'I need to do this.'
'There are more important things to deal with.'
'The infection will spread and then––'
'Let it spread!'
Her exclaim caught him off guard. Miles stood, frozen, before lowering the water bottle and tissue. If she so wished to avoid being nursed, then so be it. When he turned around, Miles immediately regretted giving in so easily. She was testing him, of course. Testing to see how far he would disobey her.
Miles couldn't.
Several hours managed to pass, and the infection did spread.
Briggs men were nearing, but Miles needed to deal with her injury as soon as possible. Olivier began to show fatal symptoms: hot flush, drowsy... angry. He hated himself for being so reckless and stupid. A commanding officer would go so far to test a soldier.
He washed the soil out successfully, but as soon as he did so, Olivier moved away and vomited. Miles claimed her shoulders, helping her sit upright again.
'Damn that was stupid,' she said, acting like this was a joke to laugh about.
He didn't understand back then. 'You can't leave me.'
'What? Pfft. You lack independence, Corporal.'
'I don't care. What will happen if you die? I... I can't let that happen. I...' She ceased to talk, and soon leaned against the side, motionless, eyelids closed, as if resting. Miles moved closer, a hand cupping her cheek. 'Sir?' Her body temperature was fatal, adding to the severe, hot infection. 'Please don't die, please don't die, I love you, please.'
The confession didn't hit yet. Just as he spoke these words, a pile of snow fell from above, and a man's heavy voice roared at them. Lieutenant Buccaneer never failed to send a chill up the Ishvalan's spine, and in seconds the duo were free, although Olivier didn't wake. Once inside the Fort Miles followed, heart pounding against his chest.
He didn't know her. At all, in fact, but somehow they both managed to converse, debate, argue –– speak in a manner no other Briggs Bear had the guts to. Because of this she held him in high esteem, accepted him for what strange creature he was, and whatever he did felt like nothing compared to what she gave him.
Thinking back, Miles wasn't sure why he bothered to say he loved her. She shouldn't have heard. For all he knew she was unconscious, life slowly slipping out of his fingers. Useless, as usual. Yet it had been a desperate moment for him, where he wasn't sure if he would ever speak to her again.
He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry and hard.
'Sir...'
'I'm not holding it against you.'
Miles rose his eyebrows, surprised.
'I just...' Olivier's gaze lowered. '... I just wondered. If you don't, then I understand. If you were to feel such things, I wouldn't allow you to be near me. As you know it's illegal...' She trailed off, realising her explanation was pointless, avoiding what she truly wanted to say. Sitting there, watching her, Miles understood she was at a loss with herself, more puzzled than he about her behaviour.
Then she turned away and he realised she was trying to hold back tears.
Miles was speechless. Her efforts to not cry were breaking his heart. He couldn't believe he had done this. Forced her out of sleep to question him, because she felt confused. How long had she pondered over the confession? It was stupid what he said. She shouldn't worry.
All he wanted to do was hold her, to make her feel content and safe. She was a fractured picture before him, unreachable. When a hand made its way to her cheek, Miles' heart stopped. The wall wasn't strong enough. It had fallen, crumbled to the ground miserably, and slowly emotions began to break loose.
It terrified him to the core.
Miles found her, pulled her close, wrapped muscled arms around her waist and placed the suddenly vulnerable girl beneath him. Olivier stared up at him, shocked by the unexpected move, amazed he had it in him to direct something so intimate.
She didn't move out from under him though.
His breath tickled. He was so close it sent a wave of electricity through her and she realised his shades were off, revealing dark, gorgeous red irises. An opposite to hers.
Then he was nodding gently. 'I do love you. I wouldn't lie.' She was conscious of his hand trailing from her scarred cheek, to her collar bone. 'I just... didn't think you were the type to accept me if I told you. You never seemed like someone who would fall in love.'
It shouldn't have, but it caused a stab of pain to emit through her when he admitted such. Yet it was true: all her life she disciplined herself to be withdrawn and untouchable. A route she succeeded in taking, but failed to accomplish.
For some reason, this man had forced down the wall –– and it hurt.
'Don't go,' she said, voice quiet, unsure.
Miles moved closer, 'I'll never leave your side,' his lips brushing against her own. Miles felt her shiver beneath him and he paused. 'Maybe we shouldn't do this...'
'I don't care.' Her arms travelled around his waist, pulling him closer, their chest pressed together. 'I don't care anymore... don't say "no"...'
Obedient and loyal, Miles kissed her cheek, trailing down to her neck which he caressed with his lips, hearing her breath catch, then pressed his mouth against hers tightly. He moaned a little, tongue battling for entrance, exploring her mouth. His heart pounded against his chest, and he felt clammy but warm. Olivier's response was less dominating, as if his touch zapped out her cold demeanour, her ruling presence.
Miles never knew he was capable of such.
They shared open mouthed kisses for minutes, until breaking away, only to regain their breath. However Miles refused to rest, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, having to stop when he met blue cotton. In silence she pulled herself up into a sitting position, Miles still straddling her, and they kissed again, softer. Her body trembled, preparing itself for what was about to come, his hands trailing her hips to the buttons of her military jacket.
Once the black top was removed, Olivier became vulnerable to the chill. Her flesh was prone to it though, yet it was only a matter of time before the cold began to take effect. Miles' hands were at her waist again, their noses touching, eyes half shut. It didn't take long until his clothing was tossed aside, and they were kissing again.
He cupped her breast, encouraged by her sharp intake for breath, then unclipped the strap. She allowed it to fall, but his eyes didn't roam. Olivier fell back again, releasing a moan when his hand fondled her chest, his thumb skilfully brushing against her nipple causing her to stiffen. When they kissed she responded eagerly, enthusiastic. For once, someone was loving her for who she was. For once she could return the affection with honesty.
They grew cold quickly. Miles pressed her against him, their kisses turning wet and hot. Olivier's hands touched his well built chest, a sense of protection flooding inside her. This man was strong, beautiful, an outcast.
Their trousers and undergarments were removed without a fuss. Before Olivier could take action, Miles pressed a hand against her heat, alerting her already roused body. She didn't push him away. A finger rubbed her entrance and she allowed a little moan to escape her lips. The blonde clenched onto the blanket beneath them, her breathing pace quickening.
Miles felt himself tighten, excited with what he could do. He pressed further, gently, and she latched onto his forearm. Their gaze met. He leaned down and kissed her face and lips, smothering her with every bit of emotions which flourished through his body.
Then he pulled away, leaving the girl in a daze whilst he found her slit. Olivier was awakened instantly when he opened her up a little, and she instinctively snatched his wrists. She stared upwards, unable to speak, didn't stop him. There was a pause, and his tongue met her clit, causing the woman to gasp.
'M––Miles...' He continued to suck, closing his eyes and devouring her. A warm sensation of security and bliss empowered her and she sighed happily, a little smile reaching her lips. Her spine tingled, pleasure crawling from her entrance to all over her body. 'Ahh...' She could feel him begin to grow more confidence, his tongue searching for where he received the best response from her. Olivier bit down on her lip, trying to hold back any sort of noise threatening to escape, but she was incapable of doing so. A little exclaim came from her, 'No... that's nice... shit...'
He responded enthusiastically to her moans, his tongue dancing in and out of her, occasionally returning back to her clit which seemed to be her favourite part. A hand flew to the back of his head, encouraging him further, gripping his white hair, the other clinging to the blanket. Olivier began to tremble with pleasure unable to control the amount of sensations buzzing within her, urging him to continue, to not stop. Miles loved it. He loved it almost as much as she did whilst her slit began to grow more moist at its own accord.
She reached her peak, her back arching slightly, before her fist loosened about his hair, and her spine rested. Olivier exhaled then inhaled sharply whilst he continued to lap at her, tickling her, and when he was certain he had satisfied the woman (and himself), he rose his head and threw her a grin of his own.
And she was silenced. Miles straddled her, and kissed Olivier's lips whilst his rather engorged manhood touched her opening. Maybe she wanted to return the favour, but he pulled her hand away when it brushed against him: 'Don't.' He didn't need anything in return. Just having her was enough to make him feel loved and wanted for who he was. To convince him he wasn't an outcast. Someone out there appreciated his deformities.
The irony constantly glared at them. A full-blooded Amestrian had accepted him. A fact still frowned upon today.
Miles carefully lowered himself. Their eyes met and she reached to touch each side of his face, bringing him closer. At once he felt an immense pleasure shudder his form, the sensation was wonderful and he began to move a little faster, feeling more confident with their close proximity, his hands finding her hips for support.
His heart pounded against his chest whilst his tip buried itself deeper within her, rocking back and forth, increasing his pace, shivering when she gave a little moan. Olivier's hands slid down his face to the man's strong shoulders, their flesh contrasting against the other, an ironic balance teasing them.
Her eyes closed slightly, melting into the pleasure he was giving her. Miles' breath tickled her face, and she clung onto him.
'Are you okay?' He whispered, voice shaking. His length moved in and out of her easily, her juices giving him a smooth ride.
Olivier didn't answer –– she couldn't answer. The friction of him rubbing against her caused a blossoming warmth within her, a secure, safe feeling swelled. His rhythm increased, and she rippled with ecstasy, moving against him, finding him. God it felt fantastic. She wanted more, she wanted him completely. She moaned, scrunching her eyes closed with pleasure, his pelvis hitting against her own, and she soon gave sharp gasps, her vision blurring, tightening her grip on his shoulders, arms, him.
He throbbed dangerously, groaning against her slightly ajar mouth, his hands stroking over her curves, to her hips, holding her firmly.
Solace shuddered between them and they kissed each other hungrily, Miles lowering himself against her, their chests rubbing together whilst he continued to move within her, lip locked. It took effort for them both to pry each other's lips away. Several strands of white hair fell across his forehead when he smiled down at her, eyes showing nothing but a silly, happy affection he had been hiding for so many years.
'I love you,' he confirmed.
She still failed to speak. Olivier gripped hold of his arms and flung him to the ground, and she moved atop of him, hands pressed firmly against his sweaty chest, his member pounding into her perfectly. Miles had no problem with the switch, yet beneath her he struggled to gain control of the situation. His mind blew with hot pleasure, openly moaning with satisfaction.
Rhythm quick, Miles inhaled sharply, holding her waist before giving in, his sight clouded with utter bliss whilst he came, aware of Olivier following suit only seconds afterwards. He urged her to continue, slowly losing slack until limp. The blonde moaned, exhausted and lay next to him on her side, gaze lowered.
He allowed her to rest for a while, before facing her, a warm smile etched over his lips.
Miles kissed her. 'Hey.'
When Olivier regained her sense she snuggled against him. He turned to hold her properly, pulling her warm body against his own, blocking the freezing temperature from attacking the two. Relaxed and happy, they fell asleep. Nothing was more perfect than this.
author's note: This only took six hours or something to write because sweet Jesus I have never wrote such a graphic lemon before! In fact, I'd go ahead and say this is my first lemon so there goes my lemon virginity and I blame a certain online friend of mine for this one-shot to actually happen. I hope to God it isn't shit because I don't even know. Thank you so much for reading (and surviving). Honestly, this couple is beautiful in my mind and I feel I can't give them justice whatever I do. It's midnight, I'm emotional and I shall publish this and hope I delivered. Much love!
Quote by Kahlil Gibran.