Originally Published: August 21, 2022

Last Edited:

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I'm being a slow poke, but at least I'm still working on this, right?

Thank you everyone for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy!

To Vash: I was going to reply to you privately, but can't. I'm not opposed to publishing on AO3, but from my understanding, writers need an invite to publish(?) I could be completely wrong about that, though.

Thank you all for your likes, follows, and comments. They are seen and appreciated, even with my slow posts!

Chapter 30

Troubled Hearts, Troubled Minds

Thursday, October 10, 1918

The house was quiet, Chris's warmth absent as she spent the evening at the Bar with the girls. After a quiet dinner alone, Roy's exhaustion sent him to bed. Wearing just his lounge pants, he collapsed into the sheets, his muscles sinking into the mattress.

The ghost of Riza's scent tantalized him, making him roll towards her empty spot. He pulled her pillow to his chest, burying his face in the cushion and inhaling deeply. The scent was gone. A phantom of his imagination. He groaned weakly, his body aching to feel her in his arms.

He hadn't told her, but he'd received a file from the Fuhrer's office earlier that day containing copies of all the threats directed towards her. It probably wasn't his best decision to peruse the file, but he'd had to know what danger she was in.

Curling his arms tightly around Riza's pillow, vivid memories of her past injuries flickered across his mind: Her bruised arms as a child. Her bubbling skin from the burn he'd given her. Her sliced neck on the Promised Day.

He endured the silent torture for painfully long, tossing and turning in desperate search of sleep. After what felt like hours, he pushed his way out of bed, giving way to his anxiety as he descended the stairs in a rush. Reaching the phone, he spun the rotary with an urgent haste. The phone rang and rang, but no answer came. Hanging up, he huffed in frustration.

He began pacing the living room, running a hand through his loose hair. Riza must be out, or she would have answered the phone. He should probably get out himself, a change of scene might ease his mind. He could go to the Bar, or for a run.

But he was so tired. After fighting insomnia all week, he just wanted to sleep.

He could stake out her apartment, wait until she arrived, and see if she'd let him in. He shook his head, not fond of the invasion of her privacy. He didn't own her, and that sounded too much like stalking. Not to mention even if she let him in, he'd have to deal with Catalina being there too.

Giving up on leaving home, he collapsed in a front room armchair. He stared at the chessboard before him for a long moment, the mahogany and ivory pieces lined up in their places. At their starting positions, his Queen was well protected, standing between the king and a bishop with a row of pawns to guard her. But they weren't at the start of this game, and he didn't have a physical board to evaluate enemy threats.

Reaching forward he carefully plucked the white queen from the board, cupping her safely in his palm. It was just a chess piece, but still, holding it gave him a sense of security. Riza was still well protected. He trusted his team would watch her back while they were separated like this, not to mention the woman was a nightmare of an opponent on her own.

With that thought, he rolled the piece in his palm. If sleep was out of reach, then he needed to do something to occupy his mind. Reading sounded tedious and the radio sounded dull. He needed something to keep his mind and body busy.

He could work on his James disguise.

Settling on the idea, he stood up, tucking the queen into his pocket. Moving upstairs, he opened his bedroom closet, pulling out the cardboard box in the corner. Setting it on top of the dresser, he shuffled through the items, trying to decide how to proceed.

The shoe wedges were already trimmed to the right size, making him three inches taller when he used them, but the makeup bag Chris had helped him assemble drew his attention. He could probably practice what she'd taught him. Then the wig caught his eye. Sighing, he collected the makeup, wig, and wig cap. He had to practice sometime.

Setting up in the upstairs bathroom, he started with the wig cap, scowling at how his face looked with his hair pulled back and flattened. He turned the wig around, finding the front and carefully pulling it on. Adjusting it slightly, he scowled again at the almost auburn brown waves. They were already parted to the side, a few strands of faux hair styled across his forehead.

He didn't like it. Sure, the wig was fine, but he liked his own hair. Its wild, stubborn look was a key characteristic of his undeniable charm. Not to mention he didn't like the reddish hue against his cool toned skin.

Unexpectedly a knock came from downstairs. He glanced in the direction, bewildered as he quickly stepped to his room, digging in his hamper for a shirt.

Who'd be visiting this late?

Trying to pull his shirt on, he heard the door click open, a familiar voice reaching him as he tried to pull his shirt on. "I'll be fine, Colonel. Thank you for dropping me off."

Riza!

"Are you certain, Major? I can…"

Roy started down the steps in haste, eager to see her despite the one arm in his shirt and the other struggling to find a hole.

Armstrong cut off as he and Riza turned to look at him. Roy couldn't miss the way Riza's eyes dropped to his exposed torso, her gaze growing hazy and cheeks tinting pink. The sight of her familiar arousal made his stomach flip in anxious excitement, his mind running wild with the idea.

"Sorry. Rebellious shirt here," Roy grinned, joining them properly in the front room. "Come in, come in! What brings you both here?"

Armstrong smiled, sparkling as he gave a salute to Roy. "I'm not here to stay, General. I was just dropping the Major off." Fine with Roy, but he hadn't wanted to chase him off just to get Riza alone. "If either of you need anything, please let me know!"

Blinking, Riza tore her gaze away from Roy, looking up at Alex with a gracious smile. "Thank you again, Sir. And don't be surprised if I bring those scones to the office tomorrow. I can't let Rebecca eat all of them."

Alex laughed as Roy finally got his second arm into its sleeve. "I look forward to it. Good night you two," he offered warmly before turning and stepping off the porch.

Riza waved him off, her back to Roy. Still, the sight of her flooded him with another wave of relief. She was safe. She was home.

Riza gently shut the door behind Armstrong, latching the lock. "I hope I didn't wake you or Chris. I…"

He cut her off by pulling her into his arms, squeezing her close as he kissed her ear. "Thanks for coming over. I- missed you," he whispered hoarsely, his lips dusting the crest of her ear.

She twisted in his arms, turning to face him with her palms resting on his exposed pecs. Intentional or not, the gesture made a heat bundle in his chest, his skin prickling with her touch. "You missed me? You saw me at work today, Sir."

"Doesn't change the fact. It's also been strange being home alone tonight. I actually haven't stayed a night in this house without you or Chris for company."

"Alone? Where's Chris?" Riza asked, her head tilting to one side. The innocent little head tilt was uncommon enough for her, he lifted a hand to thumb her chin playfully, adoration swelling in his chest.

"Vanessa convinced me to let her go to the Bar tonight."

She brightened, her eyes twinkling. "That's good! That means she's doing better, right?"

"Yes," he answered guardedly, lowering his hand. "But I'm still worried she'll overextend herself."

She sniggered, reaching up and brushing his fringe. "She'll be fine. Now, what's the wig for?"

He scowled, reaching up to pull it off dismissively. "I've been trying to figure out my James disguise. I don't like this, though."

She gently rolled the wig cap off, freely running her fingers through his hair. "Why not just dye it? If I was an alchemist, you can be certain that's what I would do. A quick transmutation on and off and no itchy scalp."

"Maybe, but I don't want to damage my hair," he admitted uncomfortably.

She shook her head, gently parting his hair and curling it lazily around her fingers. "A nice side sweep with a wave here in the front would look handsome on you."

He smirked softly, dropping the wig on the neighboring armchair before his hands found her waist again. "I doubt my hair would behave that well."

"You could always try Armstrong's Hair Gel," she teased, tossing the cap to join its wig. She dropped her hands to his lapels, toying with them as a smoldering heat entered her eyes. "But just so you know, I'd ruin it once we get in bed."

His heart sped up as he slipped his hands to her hips and pushed her back against the door. Pinning her there with his body, he delicately brushed her bangs aside, eyes flickering between her honey irises, golden hair, and raspberry lips. "That's alright," he murmured, his voice naturally dropping to a seductive rumble.

Her lips parted, her breasts rising and falling shallowly against his chest. "Well, just as long as you know," she breathed.

"Oh, I know." He leaned closer, cradling her neck as he pulled her in for a kiss. She moaned softly, the sound making heat flood to his belly. Her hands ran up his chest and shoulders, her arms lightly curling behind his neck as her back arched off the door, pressing against him. He gasped against her mouth, briefly licking her lips before dragging his teeth across the plump flesh of the lower one.

Damn, he'd needed this. With how he'd been haunted since the attack at the train station, holding back from her at work had become a conscious effort born out of necessity. But with her here, and them alone, his stifled longing to hold her came bubbling up, ready to overflow.

He dragged his lips slowly up her jaw, dusting his fingers across her throat as she tilted her head back, inhaling sharply. Keeping one hand gently on her neck, he moved the other to her buttons, deftly plucking them loose as he hovered his parted lips just above her earlobe. With her shirt loose, he slipped a hand under the fabric, squeezing her breast affectionately.

She suddenly stiffened. "Don't," she gasped, catching his hand and pushing it away.

He paused, then pulled back to meet her eyes. "Sorry," he rasped, short of breath, "I-I didn't ask if you were here for this sort of thing. I assumed…"

She lightly shook her head, absently rubbing her breast. "No, I came over to talk- but we can do that after. I'd like to see where this is going." She let go of her breast, curling her arms behind his shoulders and pressing their frames together again.

The curves of her body burned against him, especially with such an open invitation. "But you don't want me to touch…?"

"They're tender again. Just be careful, Sir."

Distantly concerned, he thumbed her chin, gently lifting her face to admire her glowing blush and soft features for a moment. "Of course," he breathed, letting his concern slip away as he leaned in to dusted a brief kiss against her mouth.

He pulled away quickly, taking both of her hands in his and stepping backwards. She willingly followed and a smile spread across his face as he rubbed her knuckles. "Bed?"

"I'd like that," she agreed gently, a warmth to her eyes.

She was so beautiful, he hardly dared to look away. But as they reached the stairs, his heel bumped against the bottom step and he stumbled.

Riza was quick to wrap her arms around him, steadying him. "Sir," she chided, scowling up at him. "It might be safer to watch where you're going."

He reached up, caressing her cheek. "But then I'll miss watching you." He leaned in to kiss her again, but she scoffed, playfully dodging his mouth, and grabbing his hand. She slipped past him, dragging him along as she climbed the stairs.

"Save it for bed, Sir," she ordered.

His eyes fell to her rear, and how her skirt sashayed with each step she took. A mischievous grin broke across his face as he quickened his steps, gaining on her to scoop her up in his arms.

She squealed, arms flailing until she caught a hold of his shirt. Bursting into their room, he spun to toss her into bed, underestimating her grip on his shirt. They both tumbled onto the mattress, the springs groaning loudly under them. He scrambled to push his weight off of her smaller frame, hovering above her.

She burst out laughing, beaming from ear to ear with her hair splashed across the sheets, framing her face. "What was that?" she managed, her breath short.

He kneeled before her, pulling off his shirt and throwing it haphazardly. "My attempt at flinging you into bed. It would have worked better if you didn't have such a grip."

"Well, next time warn me! Then I might not fear for my life," she teased.

He hummed, pulling her shoes off and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. "That eliminates the element of surprise," he pointed out. He slid his palms up to her knees, which were loosely angled together. She glanced down at his touch as he kept his gaze on her face, watching her reaction as he gently spread her legs. Slowly sliding his hands up her thighs, she gasped, her breasts heaving in the cleavage of her bra.

Halfway up her skirt, his right hand caught on something smooth other than skin. A sound escaped his throat as he looked down in surprise. Feeling around, he recognized the hard lump of a holster and its connecting strap. A wicked grin spread across his face as he gruffly added, "Surprises like that. I'm glad you're armed, Major."

"Why, Sir?" she asked breathily as he lifted her leg, loosening and shimmying the holster down her thigh.

He dropped his voice huskily as he answered, "Because I like disarming you." A blush colored her cheeks but at the same time a heat entered her eyes. He slipped the holster down the rest of her leg with ease and it joined her shoes on the floor with a thunk.

Rid of the hindrance, he was back to sliding his hands under her skirt again, exploring the expanse of her perfect thighs. "Anything else you're hiding?"

"You tell me," she challenged.

Reaching the crux of her legs unhindered, he brushed her core, finding warm and moist fabric covering her secret parts. She inhaled sharply, her frame tensing as she clutched at the sheets. He hummed playfully, his length beginning to strain against his loose lounge pants. "Just these pesky little things. They'll definitely get in the way," he commented, rubbing her more firmly. He was rewarded with the fabric soaking and Riza's moan of delight.

"Then- you should get rid of them. Right?" she panted, her hips lightly thrusting against his hand.

He slipped his hands across her pelvis, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her underwear. "Excellent idea, Major," he murmured as he began easing them down. She lifted her hips for him, helping him slide them past her curves. He intentionally dragged his fingertips into the flesh of her thighs as he pulled them down, heat rushing through his veins.

As she lifted her toned legs for him to slip the cloth off, he caught a glimpse of her ass, his mind returning to how he'd fucked her from behind earlier that week. She quickly sat up, denying him vision of her womanhood as the silk of her skirt rumpled to cover her thighs once again. At least she began pulling off her shirt, exposing her gorgeous shoulders. Her simple, black bra easily did it for him, making his pulse race as he took her in.

Distracted by her skin, her hands on his waist caught him off guard. One curled fingers under his waistband as the other dropped to rub his cock over his pants, the friction making him inhale sharply, tensing as his nerves set on fire.

She lifted her face, eyes heavy as she looked up at him, close enough that her warm breath dusted across his jaw. "Well, I'm glad you disarmed me, Sir. I prefer this gun anyways."

"Really?" his voice betrayed him as it cracked, a shiver running up his spine. He managed to keep his voice more steady as he continued, "I would have thought you'd prefer the functionality of the other."

She hesitated, a flash of- something flickering behind her eyes. She pulled away, removing her hands as she evaded his gaze. "Sorry. I- I shouldn't be using you like this."

"What?" he croaked, confused as the pleasure of her touch left and a subtle coolness from the air started chilling his bare skin.

"I shouldn't…" she cut off, sighing as she covered her face with a hand. "I'm- using you right now. I'm sorry."

"Reez, what are you talking about? I want this. I want you," he reassured, gently pulling her hand away from her face to meet her eyes.

"I…" she wet her lips, trying again, "While I was at Colonel Armstrong's, we started talking about my back."

She paused and the gravity of her words settled over his body. After a moment's consideration, he shifted, rolling onto his side to lie with her. He beckoned her closer, and reluctantly she rolled towards him. He wrapped his arms around her, pushing her hair from her face as they met each other's gaze. "You're trying not to think about it?" he guessed.

"It's- different this time. I'm actually alright with him knowing about it, and he seemed pretty understanding."

"Then what's wrong?" he asked, shaking his head in confusion.

She exhaled, her gaze dropping to his chest where she traced nonsense patterns into his skin. "Do you ever feel pain from old injuries? Not the ache of an old wound, but as if the memory comes back, almost like it's fresh. Like you were hurt just a few moments before."

He shifted a hand to rest above the razed skin of her burn, guilt writhing in his stomach. "No."

She looked up at him again, grimacing. "I do. Usually it's my arms. The way my father used to squeeze them comes back when people touch me unexpectedly or without permission. Occasionally my tattoo prickles, but that's usually the worst it gets.

"But- when Armstrong asked about why we'd burned it, it- triggered memories- and phantom pain from- that night."

The familiar stench of burned flesh filled his nostrils. His blood curdled, heart stopping. It was larger than it needed to be. He hadn't had much control, allowing himself to be pressured into the transmutation. Now she rocked back and forth in agony, sobbing as her skin smoked.

"With Kimblee." He blinked away the memory, processing what she'd said.

Slowly, horror rose up in his chest as he realized what she was actually talking about. She- was feeling that- monster…?

The image of Kimblee pinning her to a stone wall flickered in his mind's eye, that scum's mouth shoved against hers as she helplessly tried to wriggle free.

Just like back then, a primal rage rose up inside him. He'd instinctively snapped, setting Kimblee's coat on fire to avoid harming Riza; but now he had nowhere to direct his anger.

He pulled her closer, but quickly stifled the reaction, his muscles quivering as he held back from squeezing her too tightly. There was no need for him to be rough with her, especially following that confession.

Her eyes flickered with shame as she continued, "When I came here I was hoping to- feel you instead. Not exactly sexually, but when we started kissing against the door…"

In the dim light of their bedroom, he could see a younger Riza, an angry welt on her cheek and her face tearstained. He tenderly brushed the current Riza's cheek where the welt had once been. "You're not using me," he breathed.

Her eyes shone with desperation as she rested a hand over his, keeping it in place. "But I…"

"You're not using me," he repeated more firmly. "I wanted to keep you in my tent that night. In my arms. How dare he touch you when I was never allowed to. How dare he think he could get away with it? If I can ever wash away the pain he caused, I will. I will, my Love. Again and again."

She exhaled with a shudder, her gaze softening once again.

"Riza," he whispered as he took her hand, lifting it to his lips. He pressed a slow kiss to each individual knuckle, recalling how they had been scraped up and bloodied when he'd finally gotten to her. He met her eyes as he did, watching as tears slowly welled up into chestnut pools before breaking free, falling with soft thuds to the sheets beneath them.

He kept ahold of her hand, squeezing it as he leaned in, dusting kisses along every inch of the cheek that that monster had bruised.

To this day he couldn't understand how she panicked about Kimblee almost seeing the notes. Yes, the results could have been disastrous, but in doing so, she'd diminished his real sin of trying to rape her. She already had trauma from growing up with her father. How much worse would she have been if he'd been too late? If Hughes hadn't been watching out for her?

Finishing with her cheek, he moved his mouth to hers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. Her breath hitched, but rather than turning away, she cupped his cheek with her free hand, curling her fingers into his hair. He kept their kisses slow, though she pushed her tongue into his mouth. Admittedly he let her, growing lightheaded with their wet friction.

Instinctively he rolled on top of her, never parting from her mouth. She hummed in approval, her hips shifting under him before she took their joined hands, guiding his to cup her breast. He broke away from her mouth then, breathily asking, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Make love to me, my King," she whispered, her other hand slipping behind his neck and pulling him back to her mouth.

He willingly kissed her in return, carefully caressing the curved rise of her breast. He left her mouth, trailing kisses along her jaw and down to the cruel reminder her life wasn't as certain as she made it seem. She tilted her head back, exposing the scar on her neck more as he ran his tongue over the seam in her skin.

"Roy," she breathed, her thighs wrapping around his waist tightly. His cock throbbed as he nuzzled her shoulder, absently kissing the less threatening sister scar of the one on her neck.

He huffed as he began rutting against her, the cloth of her skirt and his pants between them. "I- still need a condom," he whispered.

She groaned reluctantly before prying her legs from around him. Scrambling back, he trailed his mouth down her collarbone and up the curve of one of her breasts. As his kisses brushed the fabric of her bra, he fumbled under her for the clasps. She arched her back for him, and he freed the fastenings within heartbeats. He pulled it loose as he kneeled above her. Once she was free of it, she dropped her hands down his torso, a warm fascination in her eyes as she pressed against the rigges of his abdomen down to the hem of his pants again.

Before she could go further south, he dug his fingers under the waistband of her skirt, dragging it off her in a quick motion. Leaving her completely bare on top of the sheets, he slipped off the bed. With his feet bumping her shoes, holster, and their discarded clothes, he moved to his nightstand, pulling it open.

"What kind of condom do you want?" he asked as she shifted on the bed behind him. Digging through the drawer, he realized he couldn't see the packaging clearly without his glasses. Squinting, he pulled one close to his face. "Flavored?" he guessed, his heart skipping a beat at the idea of receiving oral.

Unexpectedly, her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands slipped under both of the waistbands at his hip, her fingers tracing the edge of his burn scar. Glancing over, he found she'd moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled him to her, his waist nestling in the valley of her breasts and his knees between her thighs. She leaned in, and when her hot, wet tongue ran from his kidney to his shoulder blade, he shivered violently. Gasping, he leaned forward, catching his weight on the wall with his hand.

Her hand on his front pushed his pants and boxers down more, releasing his length from the restraining fabric. She took a hold of his shaft, boldly stroking it as she kissed and nipped at his side. He huffed, half of a moan escaping his throat as he tried not to come right there. A bit of liquid still escaped him, running down his head and over Riza's fingers.

"Sir," she almost chastised against the damp area her mouth had made on his back. The sound of her disapproval instantly made him smirk with a strained chuckle. "That's so…"

"So?" he challenged, panting as he moved his hand to rest on her back for support.

She pulled back, and he was surprised to see her heated gaze meeting his. "Sexy," she said frankly, no embarrassment or shame in her expression.

He about died. He knew Riza was attracted to him, but to hear such a straight laced, hard ass woman call him 'sexy'….

She released him, bringing her hand up to examine the liquid on it. Her eyes flicked up to stare at him seductively as she started to slowly lick it clean.

A bunched up tension grew in his chest at the sight, disbelief and growing lust swirling together until it came out as a low growl. A mischievous spark lit behind her eyes with the sound and she stopped licking, instead dragged her wet fingers across her lips, leaving white trails across her plump, pink flesh.

It was that moment his brain stopped working. He swooped down on her, desperate to taste himself on her lips. He nipped and licked at her, the salty taste driving him further in pursuit of her tongue. She huffed, kissing him back as she started to push his pants and boxers down properly, her damp hand smearing more over his thigh. When his clothes dropped, he scooped her ass up in his arms, relocating her further onto the bed without ever leaving her mouth.

Settling back in the middle of the bed, he guided her legs around his waist. He thrust against her and their mouths broke apart as she moaned in delight and he hissed in frustration. The wet, warm feel of her against his skin was heavenly, but it brought his mind back to the unopened condom forgotten between his hand and her thigh.

Fumbling with it, he brought it up to his mouth, ripping the package hastily. "Are you ready?" he asked as he rolled it on.

"I thought that was for oral," she said, her eyes flashing down at his erect member.

"Sure, but it can work for this too. Unless you're offering," he paused, meeting her eyes again. After that last display, he doubted she even needed him to wear a flavored condom.

She barely shook her head, "Another time. I don't…"

Without waiting, he grabbed her thighs again, sliding his length between her folds as he pulled her to meet him. "You don't need to give me an excuse," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her. She relaxed beneath him, her hands sliding up his jaw then into the hair at the nape of his neck. His skin prickled under her touch, the heat between her legs beckoning him.

Slowly he began thrusting against her. She moaned warmly into his mouth as their tongues unhurriedly swirled together. When being against her wasn't enough anymore, his cock throbbing wantingly, he broke away from her mouth. Her arms wrapped behind his shoulders kept him close, and he met her gaze, taking in her aroused blush and swollen lips.

He stopped with his tip just against her entrance as he absently brushed a stray strand of her hair out of her face. "Can I?" he asked gently, very aware that the memories that brought them here might make her hesitate.

Her thighs tightened around him. "Please do."

"If you need me to stop, just tell me," he added.

She nodded, and with that, he pressed into her slowly. She cried out as he sighed in relief, reveling in her heat and tight passage. She bucked against his hips as her back arched, her blush darkening to a full crimson.

He reached the back of her channel as he hit his depth. His breath came heavy as he watched her squirm beneath him, a slight ringing in his ears. "Riza…"

"Please!" she gasped, bracing one hand against his chest, the other digging fingers into his back as she tried to thrust against him.

He pulled back then plunged into her, starting a slow rhythm of deep, heavy thrusts. She melted beneath him, her breaths filled with the most beautiful moans and sighs of pleasure. Settling into the ecstasy of being one, he dipped down, pressing worshipful kisses across her neck, face, then chest.

There, between her breasts, it struck him that no other man had ever felt her this way. She was his alone to cherish and hold. His alone to make love to again and again and again. Damn Kimblee to whatever masochistic hell he was trapped in, Riza was his Queen.

Growling at the back of his throat, Roy pumped into her faster, sweat starting to collect across his skin. Reveling in the physical strain and euphoric pleasure, he ran his tongue up one of her breasts, licking her hardened nipple. She cried out, the sound laced with pleasure and pain.

He quickly pulled away, checking on her. "Too much?"

"Don't stop. I-I'm close," she gasped, wildly looking down at him.

Thrill shot through him as he pushed himself above her, bracing his hands on either side of her face as he pistoned into her, harder and faster than before. The bed groaned with each of his thrusts. The smack of their skin colliding filled the static air.

She moaned beneath him, clutching his biceps as she looked between them. "Is that… ah… shit, Roy… I…" she gasped disjointedly.

"Come, Major. That's an order," he growled lowly.

Her back arched, her head tossing back as she cried out. Obediently, he could feel her pulse around him, the delightful sensation of her body begging for his seed bringing him close to the edge. He gasped sharply as he forced himself to slow down, trying to draw out their session.

He dropped to his elbows to kiss along her jaw. Panting beneath him, she turned towards his face. "Roy," she breathed.

A wave of exhaustion suddenly rolled over him. No! He wanted this. Desperately, he tried to speed up his thrusts, but he didn't have enough energy to keep it up for more than a few moments.

"Roy," she repeated, running her fingers through his hair.

"Yeah?" He panted against her neck, still trying to hold out.

"Did you come?"

He shook his head, slowing to a stop inside her. "I- wanted to give you more," he admitted, his muscles trembling slightly.

She shushed him before rolling them over with ease, pressing him down into the mattress with her weight. He blinked up at her as she bent down, smoothing his hair back lovingly while she started to roll her hips, bringing the friction back between them.

"I've got you, Sir. Just relax," she breathed before pressing a kiss to his mouth.

Humming, he gently probed her mouth, meeting her tongue. His hands found her hips, taking in the way they rocked, her gentle thrusts pumping fire into his veins. Soon enough, he was bucking into her lightly, relishing in the feel of her heat.

She broke from his mouth, sitting up as she rode him harder, her tits bouncing freely. Fascinated by the sight and sensation, he slid his hands to her thighs, breathing hard as he felt her muscles flex. Her hands joined his as she rolled her neck back, moaning lowly.

That sensual moan shot energy through him again. He sat up, one hand staying on her thigh as the other moved to support her shoulder blades, splaying across dangling hair and burned skin as he thrust up into her harder.

She lifted her head, meeting his eyes with a soft gasp of surprise, her hips halting briefly. "Sir! I told you to relax!"

"You really think I can do that while you're riding me like a goddess?" he challenged with a smirk, not letting up on his thrusts.

She huffed, her bangs fluttering with the breath before a smile warmed across her face and she started meeting his hips again with her own rocking. She lazily wrapped her arms behind his shoulders, moving closer until her breath dusted his ear.

His throat caught as she slowly ran her tongue up his neck, ending with a nip at his ear. "You keep raising my rank, Sir. Major. Queen. Goddess. You really need to remember I'm still just a woman."

He chuckled, squeezing her thigh as he pressed his cheek against hers, rubbing his scruff against her soft skin. "Oh, I remember," he rumbled as she gasped. "How could I forget when I'm buried cock deep inside you?"

Then he rolled them, again pinning her under him. Her cheeks flooded a rosy pink, her hazel eyes heavy with lust as he took full control again. He gave her slow, hard thrusts, taking in every sensation her pussy had to give. He entwined their fingers together, pinning them on either side of her shoulders as he held her gaze.

Ever so slowly, he moved faster, drawing out her gasps and moans once again. Her neck and shoulders arched as she softly cried his name like a prayer. As her cries rose in pitch, he dropped his head, watching their hips slam again and again as his own pleasure mounted.

She tensed underneath him, almost screaming as she rippled tightly around his cock. Gasping, he rode with her, letting her milk his shaft to the edge until he was plummeting, falling, flying with her in utter bliss.

His heartbeat thundered in his ear as he slowly came back into his body, finding himself panting, nuzzled up against her neck. Swallowing hard, he lifted his face, meeting Riza's pure adoration and satisfaction with his own.

He kissed her, slow and tender as he pulled from her. She moaned a soft protest and he broke their mouths apart. "I know," he whispered, releasing one of her hands and digging his fingers through her hair. "I don't want it to end either."

She chuckled breathily, a rosy warmth beautifying her more. Smiling himself, he leaned down, pressing a kiss against her shoulder before climbing off of her and the bed. "I'll be right back." She nodded, pushing herself up as she combed her wild hair back.

Stepping out, he moved to clean himself up in the bathroom. With the condom discarded, he wet a washcloth for her in the sink, glancing at the forgotten makeup on the counter.

The phone suddenly rang downstairs. Scowling briefly, he turned off the water, shaking his hands dry as he headed towards the stairs.

"Roy…" Riza called from their room.

"I have to get it. It could be work or Chris," he grumbled, waving her off as he heavily descended the stairs, wishing he could close his eyes and ignore the high pitched, screaming ring.

Reaching the phone, he leaned against the wall as he picked it up. "Mustang here," he answered gruffly.

"Hey Mustang, it's Rebecca." Roy relaxed with the chipper sound of her voice. At least it wasn't headquarters calling. "Armstrong told me Reez was with you. I was just wondering if she was staying over, or if I needed to come pick her up?"

"Um, I'm not sure. I can ask what she wants to do." He paused before deciding, "How about you don't worry about it. I can drive her over if she chooses to sleep there tonight."

"Oh, alright," Catalina replied, a slight edge to her voice. "Just- if she does come here, warn her Jean's staying the night. I don't want to startle her."

He shifted awkwardly. He didn't exactly want to casually hear about his team breaking the anti frat laws together, but he had just finished fucking his own subordinate. Besides, he'd given his personal approval for their relationship.

Clearing his throat, he tried, "I'll tell her."

There was a pause before she teased, "General Mustang, are you showing her a good time tonight?"

"You're interrupting, Captain. Good night," he added more firmly before hanging up.

Shaking his head, he turned off the lights downstairs, grabbing his wig and its cap before heading back upstairs again. Moving back to the bathroom, he left the wig on the counter with the makeup, turning his attention back to the washcloth.

Running it under hot water again, be moved back to the master bedroom to find Riza sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes drooped as she slowly pushed a hand through the sleeve of his discarded shirt, trying to dress herself. He chuckled at the sight, drawing Riza's attention.

"Not work?"

He shook his head, kneeling before her as he gently pulled her legs apart. "Catalina was checking in on you. She wanted to know if you were staying here tonight," he explained, carefully wiping her thighs and area.

She hissed, legs twitching at his intimate touch. He stopped, looking up at her with worry. She shook her head, buttoning the oversized shirt closed. "I'm alright. I'm just going to be sore. You- were very thorough."

He grimaced, "I was too hard."

She shook her head, "No. It's a good kind of ache. It- reminds me of you. Of your penis."

Cheeks heating, he stood up hastily. "You can call it something casual, Ri. Cock or dick are fine."

She chuckled fondly, closing her legs as she propped her chin up on her palm. "You know I fantasize about it: The feel of you inside me." Her eyes slid closed, a sleepy smile on her face.

His spent sex stirred at the thought, fantasizing about it too. He pushed it away quickly, scouring the floor for his boxers. He found them still in his pants as he bent down to retrieve them. "You look tired. Do you want me to take you back to Catalina's?"

She hummed in the negative, turning to crawl lazily across the bed, burrowing into the blankets on her side after giving him a nice view of her ass. "Though, Hayate will miss me," she sighed, snuggling her pillow as he pulled his boxers on.

"He'll see you tomorrow," Roy reassured, collecting their clothes and tossing them into the hamper.

She hummed sleepily, her breath slowing and deepening. Running a hand through his hair, he smiled fondly at her. He did that. He eased her haunted mind so she could find rest in his bed, his room, his shirt.

He glanced back at the hamper, quickly pulling out his pants again to dig in the pockets. Out came the white queen, half forgotten with Riza's actual presence.

He moved downstairs quietly, his own exhaustion starting to catch up to him as he carefully returned the piece to its place on the board. Satisfied, he made his way back to his Queen, leaving the glow of the hallway light on and the door open.

Crawling under the covers a second time that night, he scooted close to spoon her, his arms around her waist as he nuzzled his face against her shoulder. She didn't stir, her slow breaths lulling him.

Only then did he remember she'd come over to talk. Here they both were, falling asleep after making love, conversation unhad. Had it been about Kimblee? If so, then he hoped the matter was resolved, but he supposed he should still ask in the morning. They could talk during breakfast- after they both caught up on some much needed sleep.

Comforted by that thought, he drifted off to his first peaceful night of dreams all week, Riza safe in his arms.

That was until she ripped out of them.

"Ri," he mumbled groggily as she clambered out of bed, her steps quick as she moved out of the room without a word.

Still half asleep, unconsciousness tugged fretfully at him. He fought it, worried about her as he pushed his sheets off, sitting up.

Then he heard it: the gut twisting sound of retching.

Suddenly wide awake, he bolted out of bed, his bare feet slapping across the hardwood floor. He rushed through both open doorways to find her bent over the toilet, one hand fisting her hair out of the way as she clutched to the toilet bowl with the other.

Her entire body shuddered with an expel. His stomach clenched at the sight, smell, and sound as he gagged, bile burning the back of his own throat. Despite the foul taste, he quickly swallowed his lack of control. Composing himself, he moved to her side, kneeling beside her and intentionally keeping his eyes on her back. He shushed her, gently collecting her hair from her hand and rubbing her shoulder. "I'm here. I've got you," he murmured.

She shifted her freed hand to hold the toilet bowl, continuing to heave. Blocking out everything but her hair and back, he grimaced as he recalled her vomiting on Vulcan's shoes earlier that week. Had she been sick all week? If so, she'd hidden it well.

When the episode finally stopped, she leaned against him, clammy and sweaty as her muscles trembled from the effort. Reaching past her, he closed the toilet lid and flushed, returning his hand to slick her hair back in a soothing motion.

"Do you need help getting back to bed?" he asked near her ear.

"I want to brush my teeth first," she rasped, fumbling for the toilet and trying to push herself up. She didn't make it far, but he caught her weight before she could collapse, hoisting her up onto the toilet lid.

"Shh, sit for a minute. Let me find you a toothbrush," he urged, pushing her hair out of her pale face before pulling away to quickly dig through the bathroom's cupboards and drawers. He found a spare after a few moments and turned back to find her bent over double, arms curled around her stomach and her hair curtaining her face.

"Ri."

She sat up quickly, sniffing as she accepted the brush. "I'm sorry I woke you up, Sir. You didn't need to see that."

He scowled at that as she slowly pushed herself to her feet, only a little unsteady. "You're sorry? Shit, Riza, people throw up. You can't help it. Why the hell are you apologizing about it?" he protested, still hovering as she moved to the sink.

Wetting her toothbrush before adding a dollop of paste, she sighed. She evaded having to respond by scrubbing her teeth and tongue instead.

Exhaling through his nose, his eyes caught the golden curtain of Riza's tousled hair. He reached up, running his fingers through the tangles. "Have you been sick all week?" he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

She bent over to spit out the foamy paste before mumbling, "I came over to tell you about it." He nodded, turning towards the tub and pushing his boxers off. He drew the shower curtain closed and turned on the faucet, making water crash against the porcelain. "Roy," she protested over the thundering of water.

"You'll feel better," he reassured, reaching back for her as he adjusted the temperature. Without further prompting, she took his hand in hers, stepping up beside him as he diverted the water to the shower head.

Turning towards her, he unbuttoned the shirt she'd borrowed, tugging it off and abandoning it on the floor. Taking her hand again, he pushed his way inside the shower, pulling her with him. He passed under the main torrent, his hair soaked as he reached the far side. He turned back to center Riza under the stream, her golden locks flattening and turning almost brown now they were wet. She watched him with a sober expression, blinking more quickly as mist clung to her eyelashes and streams of water ran down her face.

Satisfied she was soaked enough, he switched their places before he grabbed his shampoo. Squeezing a large dollop on his palm, he began lathering her hair, massaging her scalp as he did. "So, you wanted to tell me about it?"

She sighed, evading his gaze. "It's been going on all week. I've been throwing up at least once a day, sometimes more."

He nodded, rinsing his hands before snatching a washcloth and the soap. After sudsing the cloth, he silently began lathering her skin, starting at her shoulders and making his way down her torso, careful with her breasts.

"I've also been getting really fatigued." She continued, letting him wash her, "I'm nauseated and hungry most of the time and struggling to keep it hidden at work."

"Well, you fooled me, and I probably know you best," he teased, half hugging her to rub her back with the washcloth. "Grumman even asked about you, and I told him you were fine."

She chuckled weakly, eyes flicking to meet his, "Rebecca almost caught me a few days ago. When she asked about the smell, I lied and said Hayate had been sick."

Not sure how to respond, he kneeled before her, running the cloth down her rear and lathering her thigh. After finishing one leg, he moved to the next, looking up at her as he murmured, "You could have taken sick leave."

"No I couldn't," she argued, a fire sparking in her eyes. "With Vulcan's new precautions, I'd have to have a member of the Team with me. That would be him, and he'd tell my Grandfather. I don't need Grumman worrying about me being sick when he has his own problems. And-" she faltered, the flame in her dimming as she grew more tender, reaching down to push his wet hair out of his face, "I didn't want to worry you when I could tell you weren't sleeping well."

He stood slowly, gently catching her wrist. They stood there, water streaming down his back and suds coating her.

"I don't want you pushing yourself too much," he started softly, passing her the washcloth so he could brush her jaw, leaving a trail of suds in his wake. "But- if you feel like you can get through the day alright, I won't force you to take medical leave."

Her shoulders dropped with an exhale, relief in her eyes. "Thank you, Roy. I didn't mean to hide this from you. That's why I came over tonight."

He didn't point out the fact she could have asked to talk to him privately anytime that week. He was glad she'd meant to tell him before he'd found out himself. From where she was coming from, that was progress enough.

He gently switched places with her, letting the shower rinse her skin, "So, vomiting, nausea, and fatigue. Have there been any other symptoms?" he asked as he squeezed out some more shampoo, lathering his own scalp.

She frowned thoughtfully as she washed the places he'd missed before actively rinsing. "I don't know. I guess it's weird that I've been so hungry. Not that I've been sick like this in years, but usually I lose my appetite for a few days when I vomit."

"Well, what you have probably isn't contagious, or I'd have it by now," he commented, taking the washcloth from her and soaping it up again. "Or Catalina, if not the entire Team."

"True," she murmured, her eyes watching as he started scrubbing his skin.

"Could it be anxiety? You don't seem very bothered, but could you be internalizing…" he trailed off as she slid her hand over his, trying to take the washcloth from him. She looked up at him, her big, brown eyes silently imploring him to humor her. After processing her silent request, he let her take it, dropping his hand as she slowly started lathering his chest, her focus on his skin.

"What were you saying?" she asked innocently, her touch making his skin prickle.

"Uh… Could you be internalizing your worry about the threats made towards you? Or are you stressed by needing to have someone guarding you day and night?"

"Not really. I've been aware that there could be threats towards me since my grandfather announced our relationship. And I wasn't exactly helpful at the station last week. Having a second set of eyes is- sort of reassuring."

"So, you're feeling insecure."

Shame flickered across her face for an instant, but was quickly masked by her stoic expression as she kneeled before him, washing his legs. "I don't think that's making me sick, Sir."

His skin prickled more intensely with her hands roving across his legs, and he became far too aware of her face level with his groin. Heat flooded his belly, rushing down as his length started to rise. Face heating, he squirmed with embarrassment at his lack of control. Riza glanced up, pulling away slightly in surprise.

"Sorry, I'm not expecting…" he mumbled huskily.

Unexpectedly she kissed his tip, quickly pulling away as his entire body jolted in response. She smirked playfully, but it quickly faded as she stood back up. "I'd suck you if I wasn't worried about my gag reflexes right now. That's actually why I didn't earlier when you asked."

"Reez," he took a hold of her hips and drew closer to her, her hands finding his chest with the motion. "I told you already, you don't have to give me reasons why. God, you were so bold earlier I almost didn't know what to do with myself," he chuckled, rubbing her sides warmly. He continued in a softer tone, almost hushed, "And I'm not expecting anything right now. You're sick, and that's the last thing on my mind."

"Really," she challenged, raising an eyebrow at him impishly.

"My mind and body don't seem to be on the same page right now," he admitted sheepishly.

She laughed, ducking her head as she beamed from ear to ear. He smiled himself, gently wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her comfortably close.

As their smiles faded, Riza absently rubbed his soapy torso with her palms, the sensation pleasant and all too welcomed. "I like touching you," she admitted, her voice soft. "I even miss it, especially when we're at work. I- don't think I've ever felt that way about anyone else. Maybe- maybe my mother, but that was so long ago, I'm not sure."

Silently he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting a hand to the back of her head and gently pressing her cheek to his. "I like it when you touch me," he murmured against her ear, trying to share as much body heat with her as possible.

She stayed in his arms, holding their embrace for a long moment before mumbling, "I'm getting tired again."

He nodded, gently pulling back from their embrace. "Let me rinse off and we can get back to bed."

"Right," she murmured, passing him the washcloth. "I'll dry off," she added before climbing out.

Alone behind the curtain, Roy half mindedly washed the areas she hadn't, frowning softly as he stepped under the water. What could she have that would make her so sick? The flu would be contagious, and food poisoning didn't last this long… did it?

Once he was properly rinsed, he cut the shower off as the water started to grow cold. Opening the curtain, he found Riza back in his shirt, scrubbing the toilet with some cleaning powder.

"You don't have to do that," he protested weakly, grabbing a towel to dry off.

"It doesn't hurt anyone if I do. Not to mention it's foul," she grimaced, flushing the suds away. He didn't argue with her further, drying himself properly and pulling his boxers back on.

Finished cleaning, Riza migrated back to the sink, washing her hands. His eyes caught on her dripping locks, tangled once again. Joining her, he opened a drawer, pulling out his comb. Silently he began working on the snarls, careful not to tug her hair as he did.

She sighed, her shoulders dropping. Looking at the mirror, he found her watching his reflection, fatigue painted across her face. "We'll get there," he murmured. "And if you're late to work, I will be too, so it'll be fine," he teased.

"Why would we-" she cut off with a yawn, covering it with her sleeve, "-be late?"

"Because," he started, leaving the comb on the counter to wrap his arms around her stomach, hugging her close, "We're both sleep deprived and should sleep in for our health."

She scoffed lightly, her hands joining his over her belly. His gaze dropped as she laced her fingers with his, snuggling close in his embrace. She turned her face, nuzzling his neck, but he wasn't mentally there anymore.

Her belly was warm under his hands, and her symptoms were clicking into place. Something, not contagious, that caused nausea, vomit, hunger, fatigue- and breast tenderness.

She stirred in his arms, pulling back to look up at him. "Roy?"

Blinking, he looked down at her, meeting her worried gaze. He- couldn't tell her. She'd openly deny it and push him away. Thinking quickly, he swallowed, focusing on her again. "Ri, if I'm going to let you keep coming to work sick, I'd at least like you to visit a doctor."

She was quiet for a moment, her shoulders tensing against his chest. "I'd have to have someone accompany me, and I don't want Vulcan or even Rebecca to know I'm sick."

It wasn't a 'no' though, and he could work with that. He hummed, rubbing his thumb repetitively across her navel. "And it's not really acceptable for me to join you for something so personal."

"No, it's not," she agreed. They fell into silence, Roy considering the option of 'James' accompanying 'Elizabeth' to the doctors. But then there'd be the mess of falsifying Elizabeth's medical history, and being expected at headquarters during most doctors' normal office hours. This wasn't exactly an emergency either, so that ruled out the hospital.

"We could visit Marcoh," Riza suddenly suggested. "He'd make time for us, and we have clearance to leave East City together if we're both disguised."

"That would work." It was probably their best option. But if he was right, that would mean Marcoh would know. Another name added to the list of those who knew about their affair. It didn't take him a heartbeat to decide that was something he was willing to risk. "When do you want to go?"

"Saturday," she determined, breaking from his arms and taking his hand. She continued as she pulled him from the bathroom, back to their bedroom, "Rebecca will expect me to spend the weekend with you, and won't question why we're headed to Ishval." She chuckled softly, glancing back at him. "It'd be interesting to see Ishval as common Amestrians and not as military officers."

He hummed softly as they reached their bed, Riza breaking away to round the bed. Climbing his way under the covers, the weight of his epiphany settled over him, dread, responsibility, and nervousness mixing unpleasantly.

They snuggled back together as he spooned her again, wrapping his arm protectively around her flat belly as she pulled the blanket over them. Grimacing, he nuzzled against her shoulder, settling into her familiar scent for comfort.

With her tenuous position as a target of unknown aggressors, the idea of her being- pregnant wasn't a happy one. She wasn't ready. Oh god, he'd done this to her and she wasn't ready.

"I'll call Marcoh tomorrow. Let him know we're coming," Roy whispered, trying to hide the roughness of his own emotions.

She nodded, hopefully unaware of his inner turmoil. "Then I'll inform Vulcan."