Permission
A sense of assured privacy came as the door clicked shut. A quiet coffee in good company before heading home to his own apartment would be a comfortable end to a tiring week. He dropped his great coat onto the couch and turned to see Hawkeye slipping off her coat and hanging it on the stand.
"Colonel?" she enquired as she turned to face him.
He was puzzled by the formality in her tone. "Yes, Lieutenant," he replied.
She looked directly at him.
"Permission to fuck freely, sir?" she asked with a straight face.
Riza Hawkeye was naturally possessed of a sharp and dry wit; and her years in the military had given her a wide variety of expression, if she chose to use it. She shared her humour with few people and Roy Mustang was always honoured that she shared it with him.
He masked his grin and maintained the air of formality as he said, "Ah, I think you mean 'speak' freely, Lieutenant."
"No sir," she said as she closed the distance between them and stood before him. He looked into her lively, loving eyes.
The thought of a shared evening coffee had seemed pleasant enough. But, though they were both fatigued from the week's work, this offer was not to be taken lightly.
"It's been a pretty busy week, Lieutenant. You sure?"
"Yes sir. I think I've still got some energy left, if you have?"
Mustang nodded in playful thoughtfulness. "Very well," he replied. "Permission granted."
Hawkeye stood at ease directly in front of him, hands behind her back. She smiled as she leant in and laid a gentle kiss on his lips. She felt him smile in return as he played his own lips across hers.
Their days were still full of challenges and responsibilities. The country was on a steady path to peace and democracy and there were far less world destroying threats. Their loyalty to each other was publicly known. Those who knew of the growing private intimacy of their relationship chose to turn a blind eye.
Mustang laid his hands on her hips and drew her in closer. Hawkeye continued the kiss, feeling their lips warm under the mutual pressure. She loved the way he'd tease his tongue across the corners of her mouth, until she'd follow him back and they were locked in a deep, passionate kiss.
They never stopped kissing as he laid his hands on her shoulders and slipped them under her holster, running the straps down her arms. Hawkeye, hands still comfortably behind her back, rolled her shoulders back, allowing him to easily remove her weapons.
As he carefully lowered them onto the nearby couch, he mused, "We could try playing with that holster one day."
"Naha," she replied as she started to kiss him again. "They're my tools. For work. If you want toys, we'll buy some."
"Hum, sounds fun," he muttered between kisses. "I'm sure there's some reason for gift giving very soon isn't there?"
Hawkeye pulled back a little and tilted her head to one side, allowing Mustang to kiss her throat. He tenderly kissed the soft skin, being careful not to risk leaving marks that might invite awkward questions.
She hummed with pleasure as he slipped his hand under her black shirt and deftly undid her bra clip. With smooth movement he removed the bra from under her shirt and dropped it to, on the couch.
"You know what I love about this shirt?" he asked as he ran his hands up under the black fabric and across her abdomen.
"What?" she asked.
His hands slid up to her breasts and lingered a moment, gently fondling the smooth, firm curve of muscle and fingering her nipples till they began to become erect.
"No buttons," he murmured as he lifted the shirt up and over her head, the stretch fabric complying and peeling off her body, to be dropped unceremoniously on the floor.
Hawkeye lifted her arms with his action and as she brought them down she took hold of his coat lapels and within moments had striped the blue coat off him, and it too dropped to the floor. Laying her hands on Mustang's shoulders, she ran them slowly down his back feeling the sweep of muscle under the material of his uniform shirt; and she thought of the touch of the silk dress shirt he'd been wearing the last time they made love. There was still a rare thrill in touching; the feel of his body, his curves, under her hands and tease of the clothes between them.
Mustang resumed laying gentle kisses around her neck.
"You know what else I love about a turtle neck shirt?" he quizzed.
"Humm… What?"
As he worked his kisses a little lower, to a spot in the shallow above the collar bone, he suddenly increased the pressure of his kiss, delighting in Hawkeye's pleasured response as she gripped his back more tightly. He knew he'd be leaving purpled marks.
"I love the turtle neck bit. I love that now it gets to cover up other things."
A shiver ran through Hawkeye as he continued to work along the flesh at the base of the throat. She ran her hands firmly down the muscles of his back until she held his buttocks.
"Have I ever told you I think you've got a nice butt?" she said as she gripped his backside and pulled him in tight against her.
"I think you did raise the matter at the Legislative Planning Meeting last week," he chortled.
His nonsense earned him a sharp slap.
"Ouch," he said with a mock wince. As he pulled back a little he looked at her, naked from the waist up, her eyes shining and a soft flush to her face.
"You're so beautiful," he simply said and couldn't stop smiling as he looked at her.
His adoring gaze always made her feel a little shy.
"You're not to shabby yourself,' she whispered.
"It's an illusion," he replied. "Clothes make the man."
"Well then,' she hummed, "lets see about unmaking the man beneath the clothes."
Holding him close as she was, Hawkeye was well aware of Mustang's increasing arousal. Her hands moved around from his backside and stroked across the crotch of his uniform. The wool cloth bulged unambiguously. And bulged more as she continued to stroked him.
"Good thing you're not wearing those linen trousers," she said. "You'd have ripped right through them by now."
He chuckled with delight and his head drooped onto her shoulder.
Hawkeye found the belt buckle and loosened belt and trousers until she could slip her hand down his pants and fondle him without hinderance.
A deep moan escaped his lips as he turned his head against her shoulder to be able to look at her. She smiled back at him, finding herself aroused by how much he was enjoying the moment.
Without moving away from her touch, Mustang managed to slip his hands down over his hips and dropped trousers and underwear to the floor. As waves of pleasure washed over him he placed a hand behind Hawkeye's head, drawing her into a deep kiss; his other hand caressing her breast.
They held each other, kissing, stroking, caressing.
The moment lasted till Mustang tried to move. The trousers bundled above his still booted feet held him fast.
"Damn, boots." he growled, as he hooked the heel of one boot under the sole of the other and levered his feet out of them. After a moment of teetering he finally kicked off the bundle of blue wool from around his feet.
Mustang, now naked from the wist down, took a step backwards and looked at her. His disheveled mop of hair hanging into his glistening eyes. The boyish grin returned.
Humm," he wondered as he raised his hands into a clap position.
"What?" said Hawkeye, suddenly cautious.
"I was just wondering if I could deconstruct the rest of our uniforms off, and reconstruct them a few feet away?" he said as an impish grin spread across his face.
Hawkeye's hands flew up and grabbed his wrists, pulling his palms away from each other.
"Oh no you don't," she said. "I prefer you undress me in a more conventional, leisurely manner." Her attention turned to his hands, and as she drew one back towards her she continued, "Besides, I'm not entirely convinced our uniforms would survive the process."
Holding his wrist she kissed the scars on the palm of his hand, and brushed her lips over the ridges of skin. The delicate stimulation raised goose bumps up Mustang's arm.
There were no circlets around their fingers, but still they were each other's king and queen. Long ago they had exchanged vows as real as any. Vows of loyalty, of fidelity, to follow and to care. Over the years that had passed they had renewed those vows time and again by deed and word.
She slipped her hand around his and gently angled it back kissing his exposed wrist. He shivered and tried to wiggle his hand away, but she held his hand in place and continued to suck at the delicate skin, despite the growing resistance.
A stifled snort escaped Mustang's mouth.
"Ha aa ah, stop!" he giggled. "Stop, stop, it tickles!"
Hawkeye looked up with smiling eyes. She felt a sudden excitement at the thought of the beautiful, goofy, lopsided grin that she knew would eventually consume his face as he climaxed.
"Well then, I'll have to find somewhere to kiss you where it doesn't tickle," she stated.
"And where would that be?"
Still holding his hand she led him through her small, neat apartment.
"I expect it will be somewhere in bed."