hmm, well, I did write something along these lines a while ago. It was the safest route seeing as I have no idea how to portray a dom/sub relationship. Plus, I really like the prompt
Enjoy!
ii: follow you into hell
In this moment, Riza can notice a handful of things she overlooked before. Has the comforter in her hands always been this soft, or the carpet beneath her feet this plush? She hears the signature crack of the General's alchemy and feels warmth bathing the left side of her body. Breathing in deeply, her lungs fill with the scent of oak logs burning in the fireplace of his spacious bedroom. It brings her back to her childhood in the countryside when she would play hide and seek with him among the trees surrounding the house in his free time, and he would usually spend so much time looking for her, but she was always above on high branches, giggling behind the hand that covered her smiling mouth. How time passes fast.
Her hands rest on her lap and she waits with all the poise someone has after years of being in the military; back straight, shoulders squared, definitely not a combination for a place as cozy as this. The mattress is comfortable under her weight, and she busies herself with running her toe along the fuzzy texture of the rug at the end of the bed. The windows to her right rattle as wind howls outside, her skin pricking beneath the long sleeves of her sweater.
It is winter in Central and snow had started falling just two days ago. However, it has not stopped yet, and the population fears it will get to the point in which leaving their homes will be impossible. The government tries to soothe their worries, but moments like this when there is a power cut caused by the weather only serve to leave everyone more agitated. Roy, very conveniently, has invited her over to his home, Black Hayate and all. Judging by that and the cabinets filled with food, a rare sight whenever he is concerned, she believed he was hoping for a snow in to keep her trapped there with him, at first. It is a good excuse they can use if it ever comes to that, she admits. So far, there has not been any warnings of storms despite the wind that begs to differ, but it is this force of nature that has caused half of Central to be without electricity tonight.
Riza turns her head towards the fireplace, where a noise of clinking glass originates. She cannot see the flames licking at the logs; she cannot see Roy pouring the wine he bought specially for this occasion. She thinks the necktie that serves as blindfold is a bit unnecessary – they could have gone without it and just used the natural darkness instead – but Roy has his motives, she reasons. The fire, the wine, the new luxurious bedroom of a house he has purchased recently, and yet she is already familiar with it... Everything screams romance, everything except for her covered eyes. Riza knows where this will lead and wonders why a blindfold is necessary.
His steps are muted, but she hears them easily until he stops before her. She tilts her head upwards, waiting. "You know, Colonel." He starts, and his smooth voice makes the hairs in her arms stand. "They say that when you take away someone's sense, the other remaining will heighten to make up for its loss. I used to think they were exaggerating, but as it turns out, it's true."
There is something before her nose. She smells the wine, and soon the cool edge of the glass touches her lips. He tilts the glass and she drinks from it, tongue running along her tinted lips afterwards. "Is it?"
"Yes, it is. In the moment I was blind, I swear I could've heard a pin falling on the other side of the room." Fabric rustles, and she does not know what he is doing. All she can do is wait for him and she hates sitting idly. "That gave me an idea, one that I sadly had forgotten in the aftermath of it all, but luckily I remembered it. Care to help me?"
"Of course, sir." She understands it now, all of it, and her body is thrumming in anticipation already.
Riza is expecting it, expecting his touch, and when it comes as a simple, innocent placement of his palms on her knees, she gasps. It is not about only heightening the other senses; her temporary lack of sight makes it impossible for her to know where he is going to touch, so every brush of his fingers on her is a surprise. His hands vanish from her knees and soon they come to her neck, brushing away her growing hair. His hands are warm, callused, applying a pressure so gentle, but so alluring she has to curl her fingers around the comforter.
His touch grows firmer; too light and she will chalk it up to her imagination. It travels down her arms all the way to her hands and back up, stopping to cradle her face. Roy kisses her finally, open mouthed, slow, passionate. She thinks it is not a comfortable position for him, to remain standing while she is comfortably sitting, but something inside tells her to keep quiet. He wants it this way, or else he would have done something different. Not only that, but he is hardly giving her room to breathe, let alone speak. A kiss ends and another begins when he parts from her to take a sharp intake of breath, and one after the other they come until they blur together and she cannot tell them apart anymore.
Roy pulls away and she follows him until he is out of her reach. Her loss is short-lived, for his hands are now under the woolen dress she wears and inching it up. The thick pantyhose she had been wearing prior to arriving in his house has been taken off much earlier, and he brushes the pads of his fingers against her sides as he works the material off her body. The high collar of the dress catches on the blindfold and dislodges it. Riza keeps her eyes closed, feels the flickering flames dancing on her eyelids until the tie is back in its place. She earns a hard kiss for that and returns her hands to her lap.
His lips settle on the top of her breasts. She marvels at the way he can light her on fire so effortlessly when he wants. Gentle or rough, Roy always gets that delicious feeling simmering low in her stomach with every little thing he does. Of all the things the blindfold takes away, what she misses the most is the smoldering look in his eyes and how they surely reflect the flames to her left. That dangerous glint full of promises never fails to make her feel the first stirs of arousal anytime, anywhere.
Riza opted for a non-padded bra today, and he uses it in his favor, brushing his tongue over the lace that covers a perky nipple. Her reaction is instantaneous. A shudder racks her body and her thighs try to close, to press together to alleviate some of the need she feels, but Roy is standing between her legs and she can feel his smirk against her soft skin. The bastard. He undoes the clasp of her bra and spends an awful long time giving her breasts attention with nips and slow licks, and firm squeezes. Riza bites her lip, her tongue, the inside of her cheek, anything to keep from making a sound, her small payback for not being able to close her legs.
Hot and wet, his tongue travels down the valley of her breasts, dives into her navel, and trace the line of her underwear on her hips. Strong hands caress the length of her legs. Fabric shuffles and his presence before her shifts. He is on his knees, Riza realizes when his forearms rest on her thighs, thumbs stroking circles around her hipbones. His breath fans the lower half of her abdomen. She swallows and licks her lips.
The hands she keeps between them hanging in the space between her legs and blocking the view are moved aside by his own. His fingers start a slow journey on her elbows to her hands, thumbs squeezing into the pulse on her wrist and the center of her palm. He takes her hand, kisses backs and palms of both, and she shivers at the gesture and its tenderness. Riza sets them on the mattress on either sides of her body when he lets them go, and shifts her hips when he deems it is finally time to get rid of her last piece. Unlike her, he is still fully clothed.
Roy hums as he guides the matching panties down her toned legs, the first noise he has made in a while. The heat inside her grows, because like his eyes, his voice is a deadly weapon of seduction. His thumbs dig into the inner part of her knees and push her legs outwards, opening them to their limit. He often comments on her flexibility and how this specific asset of hers is so useful when they are alone. She can feel as he leans in closer, feels his breath again on her and her muscles twitch in anticipation.
Riza waits on bated breath. She hates waiting. She hates being so wet and ready and needy, and not being able to do anything about it. She hates that he is likely smirking at her now and enjoying seeing her reigning in her need to squirm and protest and beg and demand he does something. She hates that he is torturing her on purpose. Do it! Riza grits her teeth to keep the words to herself, but her trembling muscles give away how wound up she is waiting for him to take action.
The first brush of his tongue on her folds make her jump with a hiss, a languid stroke from bottom to top that makes her back arch. Roy alternates between dipping his tongue into her and wrapping his lips around her clit to suck. It is an unhurried climb to her orgasm, and no amount of tugging at his hair and whimpering gets him to go a little faster. His hands perched on her thighs remain there and never stray, never touch her anywhere else that can magnify the pleasure she feels now. She can feel him staring at her; can imagine how his eyes are glinting, shining.
She moves her leg, finds that he is not restricting her movements, and brushes her toes on the obvious volume between his thighs. Roy groans into her and it shoots straight up her spine. Riza throws her head back, the tips of her hair brush her shoulders and she shivers. She tries to touch him again but he takes hold of her ankle and returns her leg to its previous place. Whereas his mouth was working slow and gentle before, now it is slow and demanding in response to the little feat she pulled. Her fingers weave into his hair and press his face closer to her. Her spine curls as Riza leans forward and gasps, moans when the warmth inside her coils tighter and threatens to burst.
"Roy–" Riza never gets to finish. He sucks hard one last time and she is done for, squeezing him between her thighs and clutching his hair in a painful grip. He laps it all up, tenderly once more, draws away from her and moves. A finger under her chin guides her head up to meet his lips. She tastes herself on his tongue, wraps her tired fingers around the shirt he wears.
Roy breaks the kiss, but remains close enough so she feels his lips quirking in a smirk and his tongue darting out to run over them. "I'm not done yet."
