Righty-o! I was doodling in my notebook during a lecture at the university earler this week, and then one of the doodles turned into a Riza one, and then I did a Lust one... and I just got hit with the thought that I wanted them together! That's how this little ficlet came about. Hopefully someone will like it, and if not, eh.
The first two paragraphs are shifting between the women, just so you know. That's why one is in italics and the other not. After that it's general.
Warnings; PWP, and probably (but there's no way to tell really) TWT too. Shoujo ai.
Pairing; RizaxLust or LustxRiza, doesn't matter, doesn't notice which it is.
Light of Day, Dark of Night
She preferred the night. The velvet-soft darkness sprinkled with far-away pin-points of light. It gave her time to be herself, to wind down and relax. The day was always hectic and full of life, work to be done, certain lazy persons to hound, and so much more, so the only thing she could do was keep a tight reign on herself and others, to see to it that they all did their work. At night, she could retreat into the calm of her own home and enjoy being herself. Sitting in a comfortable chair reading, with only the lamp beside her for light and the window open to the night was one of her favorite methods of winding down. She was never looking for a place to hide, only a temporary retreat. Those who looked to the night to shield them from all their problems and fears were weak and cowardly. You should face your shortcomings with squared shoulders and a cocked gun, so to speak, and not hide from them. Since, after all, there's always light in the darkness.
She's always liked the day better than the night. Particularily sunny summer's days, when there's not a cloud on the almost intensely blue sky, and the sunlight is bright, almost glaringly so. Then there's no shadows to hide behind, for no one. She may have her faults and shortcomings, but during a sunny day, everybody's faults are on display, even if they try to hide them with happy laughs and smiles. No one can hide when there's no darkness to shield oneself in. That makes her feel better about herself, that all those people are as flawed, if in another way, as she is. She can sit in a chair in a café all day, slowly drinking her tea or coffee, just observing the people around her. And they all try to avoid the woman sitting with a secret smile on her lips, as if she knows all your faults and is laughing, because you can't hide them. Another favorite is sitting on a roof somewhere, so the people bustling on the streets below become small. Then she feels much larger than they are, not that she isn't better than them already, but now they are so infinitely smaller, and she sees them all. Especially in the light. Since, after all, there's always darkness in the light.
So they compromise when they meet. Sometimes in the day, sometimes in the night, but most often at sundown. That time when the light turns into molten gold and flowing blood, when the sky is pale gray-violet, or streaked with burning oranges. The time when the light of day is still lingering, still caressing the people and exposing them, the time when the dark of night is advancing, shielding the people from the stripping light, embracing them in its gentle arms.
They would meet in a corner of a street somewhere halfway between the head quarters of the military in Central City and the small apartment where the 1st Lieutenant lived. It was always the same; she would melt out of the shadows between the two lights of the corner, as if formed from the very darkness itself, dark hair tousled lightly from some non-existent wind, and without a word spoken between them, she would fall in step with the blond woman, light still caught in the golden strands twisted up in a screw on her head. They wouldn't touch, not yet. Not before they are inside the shadowed hallway of the apartment, then they will fall against each other, clinging together as if this moment will always be the last, warm, moist lips pressed against their counterpart in subdued desperation.
Their breasts press against each other, the gentle swell rubbing between them, creating electric friction. The blue uniform is rough against Lust's bare skin, but that too is a sensation to treasure, because next time it is possible they will be meeting when they are working and then... then it's no holds barred. Work is work, and play is play, how serious, warm, comforting and hot this may be. They both known this, and so will treat each meeting away from work like a fragile crystal that could break at a too hard touch. Or maybe as an Alchemist would treat a perfect Philosopher's Stone, found after years of searching and labour. But Stones are the last on either Riza's or Lust's minds. This is for them, for the fire between them and inside them, and not for work. Because next time, it may all be over...