Originally Published: June 11, 2021
Last Edited: September 1, 2022
A/N: Happy Royai Day! This chapter was fairly hard to write, and not for any particular reason. Last minute I decided to go with today's Royai Week Prompt: Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift.
I received three reviews for last week's chapter and I'm so flattered. Thank you all for reading and for sticking with me through this really long fanfiction.
As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you all so much!
Chapter 21
Illicit Affairs
Friday, September 27, 1918
Roy wore civvies at Eastern Headquarters today. He was officially on family leave until Monday and had decided it was best to make that distinction clear to his subordinates- which was every soldier in the region. Riza had decided to wear her uniform though, following in his shadow as she always did. Her attire was meant to give the message that even though this wasn't her usual work day, that was what she was doing with him. Work.
Her ears pricked with the whispers of staff and soldiers as they walked through the halls. "He looks tired." "I heard a whore tried to kill him." "Do you think his mother's alright?" "...At his birthday party too." "Do you think Hawkeye gets paid overtime?" "Serves him right, playing with women like that." Such whispers followed them all the way to Investigations, the department looking a bit overworked from the incident.
Breda drew her eyes, standing bent over a stack of papers at the secretary's desk. His goatee was a bit overgrown from lack of trimming, his eyes shadowed from missed sleep. He looked up as they approached, straightening instantly and offering a salute to Roy. "Sir, it's good to see you."
Roy's hands slipped into his pockets, "and you, Captain. I'm reporting for my interview for the investigation."
Breda glanced at a clock on the wall. "It's 1000 already? Shit. Excuse me, Sir, I can take you right back," he reassured, digging through his stack of papers and pulling out a packet.
"General," Riza piped up, her spine prickling with the formal address. His familiar, charcoal gaze shifted to her questioningly. "Permission to leave you with Captain Breda? There are some things I need to quickly take care of in the Staff Office."
A wariness crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it, his expression stoic. "Of course, Major. Report back here when you're done."
She saluted stiffly, "Yes, Sir." Turning to Breda, she asked, "Captain, do you know where Hayate is?"
"Oh, Hayate's with Catalina. I think she's upstairs working on some admin papers."
Her stomach knotted with the mention of Rebecca. "Thank you. Excuse me," she offered, turning and practically running into Armstrong's wall of a chest.
"Oh, pardon me, Major," he rushed, taking a step back. "General, we'll try to keep your interview short. I know you likely have family matters to handle."
"It's fine. I'm not expected at the hospital for a few hours," Roy reassured as Riza began moving past Armstrong. This was the first time they'd been apart since the incident. It was hard to not look back and check on him. She clenched her fists, determined to keep going.
Respectful nods and rushed salutes followed her to the elevator, but the whispers were absent this time. Hitting the button for the third floor, the door started sliding shut until a rushed arm caught it just before it closed.
Caught off guard, her hand flew to her Desert Eagle, strapped to her right hip. She had it half drawn as Vulcan pushed his way into the elevator with her.
"God... I caught up to you. Ex-excuse me- Major," he panted.
She eyed him, pistol still half drawn as she evaluated him. "Lieutenant. How can I help you?"
"Just- excuse me, Ma'am," he apologized again, his breath steadying. "Fuhrer Grumman asked me to check in on you."
"Shit," she hissed, making him cringe. "Sorry, I'm not upset at you, Lieutenant. I just can't believe I forgot to call him," she explained, slipping her pistol back into its holster.
She hadn't exactly given Grumman her new phone number, mainly because she wasn't sure which one to use. Though her emergency contact information file gave Rebecca's line, and it wouldn't have been a far guess that she had been with Roy the last two days. If he had wanted to, he could have contacted her.
The elevator began to rise, pulling her focus back to the tall blond in front of her. "I'll make sure to give him a call this afternoon. I'm doing alright. My foot is just sore." Compared to her cramps and breast tenderness, it had been a minor nuisance at most.
He nodded, an awkwardness creeping into the air. "You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep, Ma'am?" he tried.
Laughing weakly, she finally pulled her hand off the holster, relaxing her arms intentionally. "The General isn't sleeping much, and keeping up with him is probably getting to me." After her whispered confession and drifting off to sleep, he'd reluctantly woken her up five times throughout the night. She suspected he hadn't woken her up as many times as he should have, but it was better than not at all.
"You're still staying at the General's?"
Her heart quickened instantly, mind scrambling. She kept her face smooth, though, meeting his green eyes evenly. "Yes. He has a guest room he's letting me stay in."
"Ah," Vulcan nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets, thumbs still out and fidgeting.
"The Team's birthday parties aren't usually that- intense. I hope we haven't scared you off from participating in future celebrations," she tried, hoping to distract him.
"No, not at all," he rushed as the elevator stopped and the door opened. He quickly stepped back, gesturing for her to go first.
Stepping out, she led the way to the Staff Office, entering the open door and finding Brosh and Sheska were the only ones there. Brosh looked up, growing alert at the sight of her. "Major Hawkeye. Is General Mustang here?"
Always eager. "He's down in Investigations. Sheska, I wanted to check on the leave request for the General," she moved over to her desk, the smaller woman jumping with the sound of her name.
"Major! Oh, of course," she rushed, scrambling through files and pulling out two leave requests. "Here's yours as well, Ma'am. I wasn't sure whether to put it as PTO or family leave, though, so it's incomplete."
Riza looked over her shoulder, trying not to loom. "I technically haven't been off, but working overtime since the incident occurred." If it wasn't so stressful getting the house ready for Chris, it'd be the best kind of overtime- time with Roy.
"Oh- I suppose you're right. Excuse me, such a silly error. Of course you're working overtime," she looked flustered, digging through her file drawer and pulling out the appropriate paper.
Riza's jaw tightened, realizing the source of the mistake. She was the one who'd made it first, telling Sheska to fill out the leave form. Sheska hadn't questioned it because she understood the nature of her and Roy's relationship. Yes, as lovers, married or dating, Riza would have been on family leave in this instance. But as superior and subordinate, it was overtime.
"It's alright, Private. It's been a hectic week," she reassured, taking the form and filling it out quickly with one of Sheska's pens. "You wouldn't happen to know where Rebecca took my dog, would you?"
"She and Havoc took two hours to get some time logged at the range." Brosh answered, leaning back in his chair and stretching. "Havoc's been managing the administration side of things with you and the General gone."
"Oh?" Riza's eyebrow popped in surprised skepticism, "How's that going?"
"Pretty good. You run a tighter ship, but things are getting done, even with Breda, Fuery, and Ross being pulled to Investigation for the case."
"What have you been up to, Vulcan?" Riza asked, passing the finished overtime form to Sheska, turning her attention to Roy's leave form. Colonel Armstrong's signature instantly caught her eye, all loopy cursive and large capitals with tiny lowercase.
"Colonel Armstrong had me helping the Investigation yesterday and sent me back here for today," he answered.
Riza nodded absently, both to him and at the form, returning it to Sheska. "Good. Thank you for all your hard work. The General will be back Monday and things should get back to normal as soon as Armstrong closes the investigation."
"Major," Brosh broached as she took a step towards the door. She paused, looking back at him. "Catalina, Ross, and I were talking yesterday. We were thinking about throwing a quieter, surprise party for the General when he got back. You know- since his birthday party turned out so bad."
"Yes?" Riza asked, wondering why he was bringing it up with her.
"Well, can we do it in the Staff Office?" he asked, giving a shrug.
"I see no problem with that. Unfortunately I won't be available to handle any of the planning, so if you'd like to adopt this as your project, go ahead. Just don't let it interfere with your workload... Speaking of," she changed direction, moving to her inbox and snatching the sizable pile of papers. "Sheska, I'll have these in by Monday morning."
"Thank you, Major."
"Excuse me, I'm going to go fetch my dog before reporting back to the General," she dismissed herself, hugging the stack to her breasts. She winced, but kept them there, her pace quick. They weren't as tender as they had been yesterday, and she was hopeful the pain would fade entirely.
Hitting the call button, she had to wait for the elevator to come back, gratefully realizing Vulcan wasn't in pursuit. Relaxing, she stepped onto the lift, riding it back down. Back on the ground floor, she made her way across campus to the gun range, skipping the locker rooms and stepping outside.
The sky was a bright azure, a few wispy clouds interrupting the blue. A slight breeze picked up her loose hair, golden locks fluttering along with the yellowing leaves of the trees.
The familiar, echoing thunder of gunfire filled the yard ahead, dirt crunching under her boots. According to the rangemaster's board there were four shooters. Riza's guess sent her to the two at the far end of the range. Nerves began tangling in her stomach, worried what Rebecca would say. Worried about what she'd ask.
Tucked in a single stall, Rebecca's familiar, poofy ponytail drew Riza to a stop. She was on her stomach, elbows on the rest as she shot her rifle. Jean lay next to her rather than shooting in his own stall or kneeling a few feet back to hand her new clips. Their legs brushed and as she watched, Jean casually slid a hand over her back, fingers toying with Rebecca's bra strap under her form fitting turtleneck. He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear with unheard words.
Hayate sat facing out, tail wagging and tongue lolling out with a grin at the sight of her. His stance suggested he'd been given the 'guard' command, likely meant to warn the two lovers if their privacy was about to be invaded. But as their invader was Hayate's master, that clearly hadn't worked out for them.
"Is this why you usually ask to borrow Hayate for range practice?" Riza lilted, a hint of a laugh in the back of her throat.
They nearly jumped out of their skins at the sound of her voice. Havoc and Rebecca rolled away from each other to look at her, Rebecca defensively tucking the rifle to her breasts to keep it with her.
"Riza!" she nearly shrieked, chocolate eyes wide.
"Shit! Hawkeye, what are you doing here?" Jean demanded, sitting up and dusting his turtleneck off.
"I'm here to steal Hayate back," she informed, a smile quirking at her lips. "And when I suggested you spend more time with Becca, I didn't mean sneaking off during work... but this isn't a terrible place to hide. I don't think I'd enjoy sex as much with all the gunfire, though."
Jean began coughing, likely having choked on saliva from the shock of her words. Rebecca's cheeks grew scarlet from the implication as she sat up too. "We weren't... God, our clothes are all on, Reez!" Rebecca spluttered.
Enjoying the flipped tables, Riza decided on one more jibe- just to relish the moment a little longer. "You really don't need to take off much to mess around. Really, you can do a lot with a loose belt and zipper.
"RIZA!" Rebecca cried, scandalized as Jean began laughing, struggling to switch from his coughing as the mix shook his entire frame. "Jean!" she reproached.
Riza lifted a hand to her mouth, hiding her chuckle as Becca lightly smacked Jean's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. Rebecca, can I ask you something?"
As Jean's cough/laugh died down, Rebecca turned her attention back to her. "What's up?" she asked, hitting the safety on her rifle.
Stepping into the stall with them, Riza squatted down beside Hayate. "Roy's bringing Madame Christmas home while she recovers. No problem with that, she knows about us, but during the day, girls from the Bar are going to come over and stay with her while we're at work. At least until she feels up to going over to the Bar while we're unavailable.
"Anyways, only two of the Bar girls know about us, and one of them is going to Central to manage that bar while Ms. Mustang recovers. I- can't stay at his house while they're all coming and going. It was bad enough that Annette found out. If more of them did, I don't want to think what might happen.
"So, I was hoping to make good on your promise that I could stay at your apartment. It should only be a week or two. And- maybe I can give you your weekends to yourself since no one will come or go from Roy's on those days."
Rebecca blinked, then an almost sinister grin grew on her face. "Sure! I'd love to have you."
"Uh-oh. Don't do it, Hawkeye," Jean snickered.
Riza chuckled, uncertain what conniving plan Rebecca was cooking up for her. "And go where, Captain?" she asked him.
"Not my place. I don't have a guest bed, and I only share with Becky," he reassured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.
"You better not," Rebecca growled through gritted teeth.
"Rebecca's it is, then. I'll be staying at Roy's until Sunday at least. I'll give you a call about details later?"
Becca nodded sharply, "Sounds good."
"Thank you," Riza offered her a smile, standing up as her thighs began to ache from her squat. "Oh, and the total for window repairs is 1100 cenz."
Rebecca perked up, "What? That's it?"
"It took three plates." Riza shrugged. "Hayate, heel," she ordered, tone dropping with the command.
Rebecca laughed behind her, clearly giddy as she and Hayate left them behind.
Riza exhaled, tension leaving her body. She'd managed to avoid questions about her tattoo, but for how much longer? She was going to be rooming with Rebecca for two weeks, after all.
"I'm going for a walk," Roy announced, donning his favorite coat before tugging on his ignition gloves.
Riza poked her head out from the kitchen, her chestnut eyes wide as she watched him, clearly concerned. "Alright. Dinner should be ready in about an hour," she prompted. "Could you light the fire before you go?"
He paused, canting his head as his brows furrowed with her request. It was so- domestic of her it took him aback. "Yeah. Sure," he agreed, delving further into the house, passing her.
The living room was a bit of a mess, a two seater and three seater couch haphazardly pushed against the walls. A coffee table laying on its side was balanced on the smaller couch, out of the way, and a matching end table was squeezed into the corner with the radio.
Riza had picked out some area rugs that were coming tomorrow, as well as the dining table and chairs. They hadn't staged the furniture yet so they could get the rest into place first.
He moved to the mantle, kneeling down to stack some wood from the log holder onto the grate. "I'd send you with Hayate, but..." Riza broached tepidly.
"No, I'll take him," he interrupted, glancing back at her. "The neighbors might wonder why I don't have him," he pointed out.
"Oh..." she trailed off, looking abashed, "Right."
Satisfied with his work, he pushed himself back up, absently snapping his fingers. The air crackled with the transmutation, the wood springing alight at his command.
He turned away, moving over to her. She lifted her wide, whiskey eyes to him, an earnest concern in her gaze. "Are you alright?"
He bent down, brushing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm fine. I just need to clear my head a bit."
Her shoulders lowered as she exhaled slowly. "Alright. Thanks for wearing your gloves," she offered, her fingers brushing the back of his left hand.
He chuckled, catching her hand and squeezing her comfortingly. "I know how my Àirén worries. I'll be back soon," he reassured.
Letting her go, he clicked his tongue, prompting Hayate to follow him to the door. He snatched Hayate's leash from the mud closet as he passed, Hayate padding quickly after him. At the door, Roy bent down, clipping his leash on before they slipped outside.
The sun had already set, the western horizon turning a deep mix of purple and pink, orange light reflecting on the thin, tissue paper clouds. A cool breeze instantly made him glad he'd decided to wear his coat as he began heading down the sidewalk, letting his mind settle on heavier thoughts.
"Please state your name and title for the record," Breda began, picking up a packet- a script of questions.
"General Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, Chief of the Eastern Amestrian Military Forces," his voice felt hollow as he spoke.
Roy grimaced, adjusting his grip on Hayate's leash. The obedient shiba inu looked back at him, ears twitching in question. "You're fine," Roy whispered, tucking his free hand into his pocket.
"On Wednesday, September 25, 1918, around 2000, two gunshots were fired on the second floor of Madame Christmas' Bar and Brothel. Where were you when the shots were fired?"
The echoing thunder of the two gunshots made his hand twitch on the surface of the table. Both Fuery and Armstrong glanced at the motion as Roy smoothly pulled his hands into his lap, tucking them out of sight.
Roy hesitated at a street corner, glancing down the three streets before pressing forward. He wanted to see life: busy restaurants and Friday night escapees to distract him. A few blocks ahead was a city thoroughfare which would provide just that.
Breda reached over to an open file, pulling out a picture. He turned towards Fuery and the audio recording he was running. "I am showing General Mustang photo B 13. General, do you know what this is?"
Roy glanced down, the image depicting a burn welt on Annette's limp hand. "A blistered, second degree burn on a woman's right hand. I imagine this is the result of my transmutation."
"How did you deliver such a burn?" Armstrong followed up.
"I was aiming to disarm her, not kill her. My record can show I'm quite proficient at both when it comes to Flame Alchemy. I targeted her pistol, used fire to heat the metal and she dropped it when it started to burn her hand."
"As evidence in this investigation, the Military formally requests that you submit your alchemic device associated with this incident," Breda read directly from his script, making sure he had the wording right.
Roy raised an eyebrow at that. There were laws in place protecting State Alchemists's instruments, namely items like Roy's gloves or Armstrong's gauntlets. The Military could request such items, but they could not seize them.
After a moment of consideration he simply replied, "I decline."
Said glove was soaking in hydrogen peroxide at home for the fourth time. Most of the blood had come out, but there was still a faint, brown stain on the once white glove.
"General, please describe the nature of your conversation with Miss Steiner. What led to this confrontation between you two." Breda asked.
"She was propositioning me in the middle of a public event. I expected an outright refusal in the middle of the bar would have led to a tantrum on her part, as it has before. I wanted to get her away from the party guests and handle the situation privately. I even asked for Major Hawkeye to send my aunt up to act as a mediator. When we were in her room, as I explained my disinterest in sleeping with her again, she escalated the conversation until she pulled her gun."
It was completely plausible. Eliminate Riza from the story and Roy could perfectly imagine the situation having happened of its own accord. Chris, Vanessa, and Madeline agreed, and they'd assured him the other girls at the Bar were well aware of Annette's temper and obsession with him.
There'd been no mention of Riza's injury during his interview. Armstrong had informed him that they would go to the hospital and get Chris's testimony sometime in the afternoon.
The formulated story was that Vanessa and Riza had bumped into each other in the kitchen, and Vanessa had stepped on Riza's foot with her high heel. The situation supposedly happened as Riza went to get Chris, and his aunt had decided to go up on her own while Vanessa helped with Riza's injury.
It felt convoluted, but what else was there? Hopefully it hadn't raise any red flags during Chris's interview.
Hayate barked, drawing Roy's attention away from his brooding. They'd reached Berkwell Drive, the rush of cars ahead of them bringing them to a stop.
As he'd hoped, a few people were out and about, streetlamps and shop windows glowing yellow light as dusk faded into night. He turned left, beginning to head down the street.
Riza was going away.
Sure, he'd see her at work, but until Chris could comfortably travel to the Bar every day, Riza had to stay away and he'd be left with an empty bed and nightmares.
His heart ached with the coming separation. Two weeks wasn't enough time to express all he felt for her. Now he had the same amount of time ahead of him where they'd be apart.
What if things grew awkward? What if Riza realized she didn't really feel that way about him and decided to end things before they got worse?
"...She may have a rough recovery ahead, but if I know Christine Mustang, she won't let this kill her."
"That's easy to say..."
"I know it," Riza insisted, jabbing his chest with her finger rather forcefully, leaving a sore ache in her wake. "She'll come out of this and be at our wedding if she has to claw her way out of her grave!"
"So, you will marry me?"
She blinked, Roy clearly seeing her mind catching up with her mouth. Her cheeks and ears turned a pretty pink from embarrassment, her voice almost growing shy. "I expect a proper proposal sometime, but yes."
Riza Hawkeye didn't break promises.
Roy scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. How could he let himself be so insecure about this? Despite him rejecting her ten years ago, she'd waited. She'd blatantly told him she didn't feel the same way about anyone else when he'd asked her why she hadn't slept around. She hadn't said the words 'I love you,' sure, but she'd said more. Last night was a perfect example.
What the hell was he worried about?
Maybe that he'd slept around? It had stopped years ago, the first time having been desperate and awkward, the second solidifying his feelings for Riza even further. Now he couldn't even remember their names or faces.
He needed to remind her how he felt. To pull them through their coming separation. Hell, he was desperate to do so. So he began his search.
Tucked between the stairwell and the downstairs half bath, Riza creased open her address book, flipping to the Gs. Keeping it propped open on the shelf where the phone sat, she picked up the handset, holding it between her shoulder and ear as she spun the rotary, dialing the listed number.
It rang twice before a hostile, masculine voice answered. "This is a private line. State your name and clearance code."
"Major Riza Hawkeye. My code is Echo, Oscar, November, Eight, Zero, Three."
"M-Major Hawkeye!" the man sounded startled. "I-I'll put you through right away. Of course." He cut off suddenly, a blank space following his words.
Riza shifted the phone into her hand, closing her address book as she sighed. What had Grumman said to make a complete stranger sound almost frightened of her? Of course he'd be hostile to any unexpected callers, that was his job monitoring the Fuhrer's personal line.
A clattering of a phone being picked up off the receiver reached her ears. "Grumman here," her grandfather announced, voice sturdy and businesslike.
"Hello, Grandfather," she offered, voice gentle.
"Riza? Riza! Hello, my dear girl! I'm so glad you called!"
She smiled at the excited tone to his voice, absently twisting her finger into the coiled phone cord. "I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. Things have been a bit hectic since Wednesday."
"Oh, I figured you were working hard as always. You never do take enough time for yourself. Are you at home?"
"No, I'm still staying in the General's guest room until Ms. Mustang is released from the hospital. I'll be going home then," she explained, the concept only slightly foreign as she'd settled into the plan throughout the day.
"Ah. I see. You never did give me your new phone number after your move."
"I was going to, but I had this problem with the apartment I'd arranged. Apparently they'd lost my contract and leased it out to someone else. I had a hell of a time trying to find a new place, and it's not like I can live at the Military dorms with Black Hayate."
"I could have made arrangements..." Grumman lilted.
"So could General Mustang, but that's an abuse of power," Riza reminded flatly. "It's fine, Rebecca has a two bedroom apartment and agreed to let me be her flatmate. I- don't think she'd appreciate random phone calls from you, though," she hedged awkwardly. "That's why I haven't given you my number."
There was a prolonged silence on Grumman's part, Riza picking absently at the bottom hem of her turtleneck. "Right. No she wouldn't," he finally agreed softly.
"I'm mostly at work anyways. I'm hardly ever at home," she rushed, trying to pull away from the awkward topic.
"Right. So- how's your foot healing? Vulcan had me worried when he described it."
She laughed lightly, Vulcan had only glimpsed the injury before it was gone. "Dr. Marcoh made quick work of it. He told me it'd be sore for a few days, but it's hardly even been that since yesterday." Absently, she lifted a hand to her breast, massaging it gently. The discomfort was slight and she silently thanked her body for the reprieve.
"I'm glad to hear it. I worry about you, Riza. I know you don't want me to, but with how I lost Elizabeth and Fredrick, it's hard not to worry," he confessed slowly.
Frowning lightly, Riza shifted on her feet, leaning her hip and shoulder against the wall. "You never did tell me how Uncle Fredrick died."
"That's a story for in person. It involves Berthold," the bite to his voice was one she silently agreed with, "and I'm not sure I'm up for telling it tonight. Oh, thank you, Alice," he added lightly, a slight clinking of glass giving her a hint that Ms. Kent had handed him a drink or something.
"You've told me that before," she snickered, smiling softly.
"We all have our skeletons. I promise I'll tell you one day."
One day…. "How's your illness?" she whispered, growing sober.
A clink of glass filled the silence, "About the same. It's only been two weeks, dear."
"A lot can change in two weeks," she commented, turning so her back was against the wall. She'd certainly had an eventful two weeks, not that she dared tell him about it.
The front door thumped, the latch clicking as the handle was turned. "Excuse me, Grandfather, General Mustang is back," she informed, pushing off the wall.
"Alright, I'll let you get back to it," Grumman chirped as Roy pushed his way in, pausing in the doorway at the sight of her. Hayate's leash was in his right hand, her dog stepping in and sitting down, waiting to be released. In Roy's left hand was a large, red, pink, and white bouquet.
Her lips parted, eyes flashing over his casual slacks, dress shirt, coat, and gloves. Nothing special, but her heart began to quicken anyways, making her far too aware of her own hand still holding her breast.
"Riza?" Grumman asked.
Blinking, she turned away from Roy, her cheeks, ears, and neck heating as she let go of her chest and quickly rubbed the burning flesh at her nape instead. "Sorry, Sir. The General was asking me something. Um... I'll try to call again sometime next week, alright?"
"I'd appreciate that."
"Of course. Bye, Grandfather," she offered, Roy's feet padding behind her as he quietly shut the door.
"Love you, Riza," Grumman offered, causing her to hesitate halfway through hanging up the phone. She exhaled, returning the handset to its cradle.
"How's Old Man Grumman?" Roy asked, shifting around behind her. Hayate padded his way into the kitchen, noisily lapping up water from his bowl.
Taking a preparatory breath, she turned around. Roy had drawn closer, gloved hand fidgeting on the bouquet's stem as his eyes flashed up from her waist, meeting her gaze. Her skin goosed as she lifted a hand, pulling her turtleneck away from her throat, her bra feeling tight.
"He's fine," she answered raspily, quickly clearing her throat. "How was your walk?"
"Uh, good. I, uh, found a flower cart, and…" he offered the bouquet to her, her eyes falling to the flowers. A pink and white amaryllis crowned the bouquet, surrounded by full bloom, red roses, pink carnations, and white chrysanthemums. "She had an amaryllis! The carnations are for my gratitude, for- all you've done for me, not just this week but… And the chrysanthemums are to show my loyalty and devotion. I- think you know what the roses mean."
Her cheeks heated again as she timidly accepted the bouquet, hiding her blush in the flowers and inhaling the scent deeply. "You didn't have to," she whispered.
"Riza," he breathed, voice and expression growing warm. He stepped forward, gloved hand gently taking her elbow, his thumb caressing her forearm with coarse strokes. "I wanted to. I wished I'd had them during our picnic two weeks ago."
"We could try again," she proposed, pulling her face from the flowers. "Before we ruin the living room with all the furniture."
He snorted, "Ruin? Isn't that fixing it?"
Ignoring his question, she passed the flowers back to him. "Set up the blanket, I'll pull dinner out of the oven," she instructed, moving towards the kitchen.
"By the way, what did you make?" he asked, moving to the linens closet and pulling out a blanket and two pillows.
"Baked chicken and mushroom risotto," she replied, her hips swaying as she glanced back at his broad shoulders. "It'll go better with wine than stew did."
"Risotto- remind me what that is," he prompted as he moved out of sight and into the other room.
"Cretian, creamy cooked rice. You liked it growing up," she summarized briskly as she turned to the oven, pulling out the dish with a hot pad.
"I did? I don't remember it."
Riza rolled her eyes, a fond smile on her lips. She moved to the fridge, pulling out the unopened bottle of Riesling. She quickly began serving them both plates, the risotto steaming with the scent of garlic and oregano.
As she screwed the corkscrew in, the sound of soft paced jazz began drifting from the other room, the warbling, female singer cracking slightly with static. It was an older song, one she was familiar with. As she poured the wine, she began humming softly along. The static faded as Roy must've tuned the station, his footsteps returning to the front room.
"Are you making me wait?" she called, balancing the plates on one arm, taking the wine bottle and glasses with the other.
"I'm just putting my coat away," he reassured, and sure enough he intercepted her between the kitchen and the living room.
He'd taken off his gloves and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His toned forearms caught her eyes as he eased a plate and the wine bottle from her arms. His focus turned to the dish, "Oh, this stuff," he lilted.
"It's called risotto," she repeated teasingly.
He looked between the filled glasses and the bottle, before leading the way to the set up before the fire. "I hope this is a good vintage, I haven't bought a lot of wine before."
"So you went and bought three bottles?" she questioned as he set the plate and bottle by the bouquet on the blanket. He straightened, stealing the rest from her before she could even step up to the blanket.
"I've just noticed you tend to gravitate towards wine at formal events," he hinted as she tried to step past him to the blanket. He straightened suddenly, spinning towards her. He smoothly caught her waist with one hand, the other taking her hand as he pulled her momentum into a rocking dance step, keeping her close.
Taken off guard, she met his dark eyes, a playful, loving glint to his obsidian orbs. "May I have this dance?" he asked, despite how he was already guiding her booted steps.
Blinking in surprise, a laugh broke from her throat. "Roy! Oh, how long has it been?" she asked, drawing closer to him as she slinked a hand up his muscular arm, resting it on his shoulder.
He smiled, lips parted as he glanced over her face, focusing on no one part until he returned to her eyes. "I- I don't know. Before I left for the Academy?"
"That sounds about right," she agreed quietly.
His smile faded as the brass and piano through the radio transitioned into a melancholy number. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to ask you to dance since then?" he breathed.
"About as many times as I've wanted you to ask me."
He was silent for a moment, their rocking step not intentional enough for a proper waltz. "I've wasted a lot of our time. I'm so sorr…"
"You're not now," she interrupted, her heart aching with the same sentiment. "Please, just let us have this. Right now," she begged softly, her eyes flickering down to his parted lips. Growing self conscious, she wetted her own, meeting his eyes again. Her black turtleneck and bra grew tighter, her boots and uniform trousers becoming heavier.
"Alright," he breathed, drawing closer. "Alright, my Queen." His lips brushed hers, stealing her breath away. She parted her lips instinctively, heat pooling between her legs, but his kiss was simply tender and chaste. For a moment she hung on the precipice, deciding how far she wanted to go. Dinner was on the blanket, the wine warming and the food cooling.
It seemed unimportant right now.
She squeezed his hand with hers, pushing more into the kiss. He tensed as she glided her tongue across the seam of his lips, his grip at her waist tightening. His mouth opened, his tongue dancing with hers where their feet had left off, a small part of her mind obsessing over his taste.
She moaned softly, taking a step forward. He backed up, trying to keep their balance. A smile tugged at the edge of her lips and she kept pressing forward, backing him up until his knees buckled. Their lips broke apart, his arm around her waist dragging her down with him onto the larger of the two couches.
"Careful, Riza, I…"
She ignored him, straddling his thighs as she grabbed the hem of her turtleneck, peeling it off of her skin and over her head. As her hair whipped free from the snug collar, she met his gaze and tossed the fabric aside. That now familiar heat was back in his charcoal eyes as they flicked down to her bra and back up again.
"I want it slow," she whispered, one hand gliding up his torso, making his shirt bunch as she used the other to brace herself on the back of the couch. She leaned down and he rose to meet her lips, his hands gliding around her thighs and pulling her further onto his lap.
The slow jazz continued as they kissed, his scruff rough against her chin and nose, his mouth warm and wet. Slowly his hands rose up her back, one disappearing over her scar, but the other made it clear he was unclasping her bra. She inhaled sharply, hands moving to his buttons as she began popping them open. She broke the kiss, hovering over his mouth as they're heavy gazes met.
"Do you want to go the whole way?" he breathed. She nodded with shallow pants as she unbuttoned the last in the row. "Let me get a towel so we don't ruin the couch," he prompted, trying to move under her.
She slid her hands up his chest under the open lapels of his shirt before she lifted a hand to his chin. She thumbed his lower lip as she whispered, "You can have me on the floor. Just don't leave me."
One of his hands slipped between her legs, caressing her over her trousers. She inhaled heavily, back and head arching as her hair hung down between her shoulder blades. His mouth pressed against her throat as his other hand tugged her bra off of her arms, his hand at her crotch pressing harder.
"I love you," he whispered against her neck, lips dropping to her collarbone to nip her softly. "I won't leave," he promised, mouth falling to her breast, his tongue running over her nipple as he took her into his mouth.
"Roy," she keened as he sucked warmly on her tit. His hand left her core, both meeting to loosen her belt and fly. He pushed a hand into her panties and she fisted the front of his shirt with both of hers as he rubbed her, his fingers soaking instantly.
He groaned, letting her nipple go. His hot breath gushed heavily between her breasts as he pressed his forehead against her chest, gaze tilted down. A shiver ran up her spine, her massaged area tightening more when she realized he was watching her groin.
"Roy," she gasped, tugging at his shirt. He inhaled sharply, two of his fingers pressing into her. She gasped, her hips bucking against his hand instinctively as his fingers curled against her walls, massaging her.
She whined as he kept going, squirming in his lap as his thumb toyed with her clit. "God, do you hear that?" he asked, voice husky. Dividing her attention, she listened, the jazz having changed to a warmer tempo. Her ears pricked as she caught onto what he meant: a slight squelching sound coming from his intimate fingering.
Her cheeks and ears heated. She didn't want him to stop, but she couldn't let this continue. She fumbled slightly, cupping both sides of his jaw and forcing his face up. His cheeks were an aroused pink, his eyes almost pleading. Desperately she kissed him, focusing on his mouth as their tongues slid across each other again.
She gave a muffled moan, thrusting against his hand. Heat coursed through her body, her toes curling inside her boots. She inched closer and closer to the edge, her heart racing in her chest as she dropped a hand down, palming his erection through his pants. He grunted, his hand pumping into her harder as he added a third finger.
Her body trembled as her high swept over her, forgetting to return his kiss. He broke their lips apart and she let her head fall to his shoulder, whimpering with each exhale, hiding her face against his neck.
His fingers slowed in her as his free hand dug into her hair, pulling his fingers through with smooth strokes. "I love you, Riza," he whispered against her ear once her body stopped trembling, his fingers withdrawing slowly from her panties. She exhaled heavily, focusing on her limp hand over his crotch. She ran her thumb across his restrained length, still trying to catch her breath.
"I thought you were on your period?" he voiced, tone curious.
"I-I am," she lifted her head, finding him rubbing his wet fingers together, frowning at the clear liquid. "Oh…"
"Is it usually that clear?" he asked, meeting her gaze as he wiped them on his pants. "When you touch yourself- on your period."
"Um, no," she answered weakly, confused and embarrassed to admit she did that. "I do sometimes stop bleeding for a day or two in the middle," she confessed, though 'two' was too generous, and it usually happened the second half of her period, not the first.
His hands moved to her thighs before he shifted both of them. She moved her arms behind his neck for support as he gently lay her down on the couch, hovering over her. "Then we won't worry about it," he reassured, his hands sliding down to peel off her boots and socks.
She let go of his neck, giving him more freedom of movement while she watched him, trying to dismiss her worry. Her eyes fell down to his bulge, her heartbeat growing louder against her eardrums again. She reached for his belt, pulling it loose as he shrugged his shirt off, watching her.
"See something you want?" he teased as she unzipped his fly.
"Well, I could just lay here limply if you prefer," she shot back, pushing his clothes down far enough to let his manhood spring loose. She took a hold of his length, pumping him as she ran her thumb over his damp head. "Excited, Sir?"
He growled softly, kicking off his shoes as he pulled her pants and underwear off. "You said you wanted it slow, Àirén."
Complete naked, she shifted herself under him, legs wide in invitation. "I do," she smiled, squeezing his length teasingly. "But you seem to be leaking a bit."
"Riza," he groaned, gently swatting her hand away. "Can you blame me? Making you come is one of the most satisfying things in the world."
She hummed absently, her hands left unoccupied. She dropped her fingers between her legs, softly rubbing herself as she watched him, eyes greedily taking in the sight of his muscled torso, scar, and cock. He was halfway through extracting a condom from his boxers' pocket before he noticed what she was doing. He froze, eyes locked between her legs. She watched his breath quicken, his hand numbly pulling out the small, square package.
"You're better," she whispered, circling her clit. "You can make me feel so much better than I can on my own. Oh, Roy," his eyes rose to meet hers, his lips parted, "Please. Get in me." She pressed against her entrance without going in, desperately wishing it was him instead.
He suddenly snatched her wrist, pushing it away from her core. "Well give me a second, woman!" he exclaimed, clearly flustered.
She laughed off the tension, wiping her fingers on her stomach as he hastily ripped open the condom, sliding it on. Focus on his ruggedly handsome face, her mouth spoke without thought. "I love you, Roy," she murmured softly, a smile claiming her lips. Halfway through pushing his pants down, he looked up at her, surprised. She didn't let herself retreat from the unintentional declaration, the warm, fuzzy burning in her chest too pleasant to dismiss.
After a moment, his face broke into a boyish smile. "Yeah?" he asked, kicking his legs free as he climbed above her, bracing himself on either side of her head.
She reached up, running her hands across his forearms, admiring the tautness of muscle. "Yes. I have for years."
His grin grew even brighter, his midnight eyes glittering with stars. "I- I love you too," he stuttered boyishly.
"I know. Thank you- for being so patient," she whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek.
His tip brushed against her area as he found her entrance, hesitating. She inhaled sharply, breath hitching with anticipation. His eyes searched hers, his lips parting with unspoken words. She could read that look though and knew what he was silently pleading for.
Running a hand up his torso, she rested her hand on his heart as she held onto his shoulder with the other. "Roy, I love you," she repeated.
He inhaled a hiss, ever so slowly pressing into her. She cried out softly, back arching, the textured upholstery rubbing against her normal skin with the movement.
He lowered himself down to his elbows, his hips flush with hers as he reached his depth, their bodies properly joined. "Riza," he gasped, his hands cupping her cheeks. "Oh, my Riza."
He began rocking gently inside her, his thrusts slow and loving. He brushed her bangs out of her eyes, adoration in his expression as he breathed unsteadily.
Moaning softly, she tightening her thighs around his waist, his methodical thrusts making her entire body slowly rock on the couch cushions. She slipped her arms under his, hooking them around his shoulders as she closed her eyes, letting him consume her, body and soul.
His lips softly grazed her cheek, dropping down to her jaw, then her throat. One of his arms slipped between her waist and the couch as he sped up slightly. She groaned, her toes curling on the cushions as she pressed her hips against his, beginning a rhythm of her own.
"Riza," he rasped softly against her skin, his full body thrusts unfaltering. She tried humming in acknowledgement, but the sound came out more like a moan as she gently dug her finger buds into his toned shoulders. He exhaled unsteadily as he nuzzled her neck. "My Riza. Don't go. Don't leave me."
She instantly knew what he was begging for, their coming separation hovering over them like a cloud of gloom. "I- I don't want to," she mumbled, a gentle groan escaping with her words.
"Riza," he breathed, his mouth moving to her lips as they coupled, his tongue meeting hers heatedly.
She brushed her fingertips along his scruffy jaw, moaning against his mouth as his thrusts grew stronger, her tailbone rocking off the couch with each drive of his hips. His hands dropped to her thighs, clutching them as he pulled her legs further up his sides, the new position giving him a deeper angle.
She broke from his kiss, moaning loudly as she turned her face away, squeezing her eyes closed. His hot breath gushed over her cheek, his teeth softly nibbling at her jaw, moving to her stud in her earlobe. Her hands fell to his shoulder, gripping tightly as heat flooded through her bones, his length reaching her deepest inhibitions.
"Roy! Oh, Roy, I'm going to…"
He growled softly against her ear, one of his hands leaving her thigh and dipping between them. As his fingers rubbed warmly across her clit, she jerked slightly, crying out as sweat beaded across her skin.
His teeth dug in deeper on her ear, the pain mixing with everything else as she squirmed, her womanhood burning tauntingly around him.
He released her ear, his thrusts constant as he hissed, "Shit," his tongue quickly lapping across her stinging earlobe.
"Roy, did you- make me bleed?" she whimpered, mind foggy as she kept teetering on the edge of her climax.
"Shh," he hissed. "Focus on this," he insisted, briefly pinching her clit.
She did, her fingers unconscious clawing at his back as her breaths came as gasps. A buzzing warmth grew deep inside her, and she tensed, her thighs tight around him as her high slammed into her.
She was hardly aware of his thrusts quickening or what elated nonsense she cried out in the thralls of his love making. All that mattered was it was him and her. Roy and Riza. King and Queen.
As her mind slowly settled back down to earth, she became aware of his face pressing against her neck, his gasping breaths and unsteady thrusts telling her he was in his own orgasm. Butterflies rose in her belly as she moved a hand to his hair, running her fingers through it as she peppered kisses along his cheek and temple.
"Oh, Roy. I love you. I love you so much," she whispered, his frame shuddering above hers.
"Riza," he gasped, his mouth engulfing hers in a passionate display. He thrusted again, growing still inside her as their tongues danced. Even that slowed as they both relaxed, limbs limp and tangled, their breaths heavy and their skin slicked in sweat.
He shifted to slow, deep kisses, pulling apart just to return at a different angle, their lips moist with each other's saliva. With the last, he pressed his forehead against hers as he pulled out of her. A shiver raced through her with their separation as she cried softly in protest. "No…"
"I know. I'm sorry, I have to take care of my condom," he whispered, pulling away and standing up.
Left limp on the couch, she watched him duck out of sight into the half bath. Spent, she sighed, her eyes wandering. She found Hayate curled up on the picnic blanket, watching her with alert eyes and ears. Exhaling heavily, she looked back up at the ceiling, running her fingers through her bangs. Her arms trembled against the weight of gravity, quickly falling back to the cushions in defeat. She closed her eyes, giving in to exhaustion.
The drifting of a guitar and piano caught her ear, a chill to the song that left Riza's skin prickling. "Take the words for what they are, a dwindling, mercurial high. A drug that only worked, the first few hundred times.
"That's the thing about illicit affairs, and clandestine meetings, and stolen stares: they show their truth one single time, but they lie and they lie and they lie, a million little times."
Her skin prickled with the lyrics, tears spilling from her eyes as her fists clenched. She blocked out the crescendo, not caring to hear more. Was that all they were destined to do? Lie and hide?
A warm hand found her cheek, her eyes fluttering open to find Roy's concerned expression above her as he gently wiped away a tear. "You're crying?"
"It's the song," she shook her head dismissively, pushing herself up on her elbows, scooting back to lean her back against the armrest. "It's..." she scoffed, trying to dismiss the emotions it brought her, but still curling her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them, seeking shelter.
His eyes moved to the radio, his attention turning to the lyrics. "...Look at this idiotic fool that you've made me. You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else. And you know damn well, for you I would ruin myself, a million little times."
He stepped over, turning the knob and shutting off the song. A silence covered them, the fire crackling mutedly in its grate. "There's some truth to that," he whispered.
"What?" she asked, digging a hand into the hair at her nape, looking over her shoulder at him.
"For you I would ruin myself a million times," he repeated, looking back at her. Shaking his head softly, he crossed back to her, shifting a damp washcloth in his hands that she hadn't noticed before. "You're my priority now, Riza."
"Well, the song also said illicit affairs lead to lies, so..." she trailed off as she unwound for him, giving him access to her area.
He shrugged, moving to tenderly clean between her legs with the cloth. The cool dampness made her shiver, watching him questioningly. "It's a song, Ri. It doesn't know the truth. Unless you think I'm lying to you," he met her eyes, ebony gaze intense.
She shook her head instantly, "No," she whispered.
"Then leave it," he breathed, ducking in and brushing her lips with his. As he pulled back, he wadded up the wash cloth, "It's late. Let's eat and go to bed."
She nodded, shifting her legs over the edge and trying to stand up. Her limbs quickly turned to jelly as she collapsed back down. Laughing weakly, she met his concerned gaze, "You sure did a thorough job, Sir."
He chuckled, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her fingers. "Anything for you, my love."