a/n: I haven't been the best at responding to reviews bc ffn is so finicky and odd about it but just KNOW that Ana and I read each and everyone one of them here, on ao3 and on tumblr. you absolutely complete us. sorry about the slightly longer space between updates, but hopefully this chapter will more than make up for it If You Know What I Mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). the next update will probably be delayed slightly again as we are mods for royaismutweek over on tumblr
BUT GOODNESS. thank you for all your love. we cannot express this enough! bury me with your love.
reckless, but you came to me / s. t., on loving an angel of war
When she dreams, it's a heated vision of two bodies moving against each other in rapid tandem. There's sweat and she smells their sex. She's carried from a warm study with even warmer hues from a fireplace and the smell of old books to a darker, sparsely decorated room with cool sheets laid beneath her. In this dark room, she can only make out silhouettes, his and hers. There's a feeling in between her legs that she's particularly fond of; how the sensation spreads like a warm salve throughout the rest of her, inside and out. Her muscles ache from being tightly wound by touch and released in the same stroke. It's all very lucid. The bites. Her fingernails scratching the skin. Her throat vibrates from the caress and when she's filled - ah! - in the places she pleads to be touched. It's a dream she doesn't want to wake from.
When she wakes, her body lets her know how it aches, of muscles tired and worn. Then, a warmth; It's not the kind of warmth she's used to. Here, a cool morning air doesn't nip at the edges of her thin duvet. Instead, it's heavy and makes her want to slip further back into sleep on a unusually comfortable mattress.
An arm is slung around her torso that isn't normally there, but Riza is content to live and let live. She hasn't felt this relaxed in a long time, despite the tenderness in between her thighs.
An alarm goes off somewhere near her - an unfamiliar sound that annoys her more than frightens her; Riza's simply too warm and too cozy to be concerned about things like this bed is way too comfortable to be my own and I'm ninety-six percent certain there's someone with me in this comfortable bed too. The mattress dips beneath her and the shrill beeping stops.
She murmurs a thanks, and the person - whoever they are - shifts back into bed and curls their arms back around her torso, resting their forehead against her hair. She hums in pleasure.
As if encouraged, soft lips begin to trail sleepy kisses down the skin of her neck. She shifts as best she can to give better access to the wanderers wrapped around her, trailing along her abdomen in patient exploration that follows the rhythm of the kisses and her heartbeat. One hand splays against her stomach fully under the oversized shirt she wears, pulling her closer against the length and suppleness of their body. The other hand drifts further up and curves around her right breast, teasingly thumbing over her nipple.
Riza lets herself bask in the sensations that are unhurried and electric in equal measure. The heat pools steadily in her belly with every passing moment. The ache in between her legs begs for attention, causing her hips to slowly writhe, as she stretches luxuriantly. The hand pressed against the skin of her stomach travels south and warm fingers slip easily past her underwear. Though her thighs give a dull protest, they open for exploring hands.
The haze of sleep has long left her. It's too much to be a dream by this point. The accuracy of the touch, its tantalizing wake - it feels too good. The moisture from her sex feels far too wet for a simple machination of her mind.
Her companion's breath is hot against her neck as they drop kisses and occasionally bite the taut muscle while she gasps for air. Her hands grab at arms, outlined and hardened by muscle, just like in her dreams. Her hips move and tilt and shift again. There's something hard prodding at her, nestled in between her cheeks. Reaching behind her, she strokes it as he touches her, and a groan makes ripples on her skin reaching in between her legs in wonderful waves. There's no ache to her body now, only this touch and she reaches higher and higher and much tighter until…
She opens her eyes and a bright morning greets her as she comes down from her orgasm with sweat dampening in the crook of her knees.
Her fingers are still loosely wrapped around his cock. Her shoulders turn to greet her bed companion and he opens dark eyes, almost completely curtained by his dark bangs. He smiles crookedly and it's a very handsome one until it dawns on her who he is.
She sits up straight and blinks rapidly, trying to process that it wasn't all a provocatively lucid sex dream and he pulls her from that almost panic attack.
"Good morning," he says to her sleepily.
She peers over her shoulder. It's not fair. Without his glasses, he doesn't even look like a professor; with the messy head of hair and scattered stubble along his jaw, he could almost be mistaken for one of those underwear models in the catalogues. She'd say he looked innocent until her jaw almost hits her lap when he, once again, cleans the fingers that was just in her by way of his mouth.
"Do you know what you want for breakfast?"
She clutches the sheets tighter to her chest though she's covered - with one of his shirts - and looks to the ruffled bed for an answer to his blatantly casual question, like she almost doesn't know what it means. She stammers, "No. Do you?"
Roy lies flatly on his bed, a forearm resting over forehead. He smacks his lips as if he tastes something he likes. The sleepy smile turns into a wolfish grin and her brain catches up. "Yes."
Something about their short exchange makes her cleverly quip back, "I'm not on the menu."
"You could be if you take these off."
Blushing, Riza looks down where his fingers hook and release the hem of her underwear.
"You're very pretty when you blush," says Roy, with no hint of embarrassment in his features. She'd sooner blow a fuse than understand how he can say such things without any kind of hesitation; how he can approach this situation with unflappable calm where she only feels a storm of nerves brewing in her.
The warmth on her cheeks flare from his use a compliment to call her out, like he's challenging her and putting her on the spot to prove herself. It's such a fluid, effective maneuver that she wonders if he's done this before. It's just sex, she thinks to herself while removing her small clothes. But that self-assurance, coupled with the lust behind that grin, it does terrible things to her. It makes her want to know how he can quell the storm brewing.
Or better yet, how to incite it further.
She lowers herself on the bed and feels a smidgen of vulnerability when he stops her with a hand at the small of her back.
"Not there."
She pauses, hands at her sides. "Then where?"
"Climb over me." She looks at him, confused, and he must've picked up on it, because he elaborates. "On my face."
"Oh." Oh.
The sexual aura that had been there just moments ago shifts dangerously. Perhaps it's the unknown. She's never done something like this, so when she positions her legs, gracelessly moving over his head, she doesn't know what to expect. He coasts up her thighs, like he's admiring them with his hands, and jerks her close and hard that she uses the headboard to catch herself. She doesn't realize how much she'll need that headboard until it's too late.
She gasps, spine straightening, when she feels his tongue make that initial swipe in between her lips. Her head tilts back, back arching and her body is lithe - no longer aching. Well, there's aching but it's being tended to in an exquisite way. She croons as he repeats with his mouth, kissing her and sucking and making her claw at the headboard every so often when he circles around her clit. He laps her juices up, groaning and enjoying himself. He rocks her hips for her and she feels exposed in the best way possible and strangely, she wants to open any avenue, any part of her she can for him, because she's already opened her vocals for him. They are hoarse and scratchy from last night, but she can no sooner adjust to whatever he's doing, when he changes the pace and she's at his mercy once more. It's not long before she's moving her hips on her own accord, feeling the precipice near closer and closer.
Riza looks down momentarily, giving her back a rest, and he's watching her. Every moan, every twist her body made, he is drinking it all in and her body flushes all over. Not out of shyness, but because his look exudes confidence. The flick of his tongue, the rock of her hips is a purposeful thing because he knows what he's doing and he knows what will get her off and it manages to shock her - again. Being exposed like this, being read like an open book… it surprisingly gets her off. A lot.
And - fuck! - against her flesh, she can feel his lips curl into a smirk when she realizes it and she hits the edge of the headboard with her palm as she comes for the second time this morning. He doesn't let her go. His tongue continues to lap at her as she feels her orgasm breaking over her, her hair becoming curtains for a show just for him.
Her knees are weak, her thighs are a quivering mess, and she holds onto the headboard like it'll keep her afloat - head above water. His hands tightly gripping her hips are the only things keep her upright. With her eyes closed, panting and dazed, she taps at his arms. A plea. For something.
She wants him to just take her.
Riza says his name breathlessly, half heartedly urging him to stop.
Muffled, he replies, "I'm sorry, I can't hear your from all the way down here. Can you speak up please?"
She has half a mind to roll her eyes, even that seems like too much of an ask for her body right now. She groans, "Roy please."
"You even rolled your tongue a little."
A laugh bubbles out of her, a messy, wonderful blend of exhaustion and euphoria. She doesn't have the strength in her to even shift off him. Instead, she sits back far enough to rest her weight on his upper chest, uncaring of how the broad line of his shoulders offer her no modesty and force her legs apart even further. He watches her with a satisfied smirk, and a hand shifts down from her hips to stroke her exposed clit. The two of them are quiet for a few minutes, Riza allowing herself to simply bask in the sensations and calm her racing heart. His thumb is unhurried against her, certainly not enough to bring on another orgasm quite so quickly. Riza allows herself to move slowly against his hand. Her experiences with morning after sex are...lacking at best, but she feels emboldened by his confidence and by the growing need to be fucked again. Properly.
"Condoms are in the side drawer," he says, and part of Riza wonders if he's just got a really uncanny ability to know what she's thinking, or whether she's just that easy to read. She hears him remove his briefs as she finds the box, taking note of the dates on the back - she would swear until she turned blue under oath that all she was concerned with was the expiration date, but seeing the manufacture day only weeks apart from today makes her smile broadly. For me, she thinks to herself, turning around only to come face to face with a very, very, very naked Roy Mustang. It's enough to make her breathless, until she focuses on the large scarred section of his abdomen.
It's an old one, pale now with age but she can't get over how big it is. Comparisons rush through her head but she's never seen anything quite like this - for something to leave a scar that big and marred must've been -
"It was...from a long time ago," he begins. Her gaping must've been obvious, because he drops his head and rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, but Riza is quick to clamber back onto the bed and curl her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly on the mouth. She tries to convey understanding and acceptance as best she can, but any sense of shame about her own personal ghosts falls to the wayside in light of this new revelation. How comfortable he is with showing it. His hands cradle her jaw with unmistakable fondness and for a moment she exists with him with no ulterior motives.
It's not until her hands begin to bury themselves into his hair, bodies pressing into each other, that the pace of the kiss changes from languid to energetic. Riza unable to stop the giggles from escaping her as he peppers her face with kisses. He finds the spot on the side of her neck that makes her breath hitch and she feels the smirk as his teeth scrape over the small patch of skin. His hands slide down the borrowed shirt she wears and he begins to unbutton it slowly, punctuating each slip of button and fabric with kisses that start on her neck and travel down their way down. By the time she shrugs it off, he's already drawn a nipple into his mouth and sucks on it none too softly. The feeling of his mouth on her again, tongue roughly brushing over the sensitive bud, shoots straight down to her groin, and Riza lets her hand part her folds and try to fill the empty feeling in her that's been lingering all morning. Her other hands grasps at his head more firmly and she shivers as his teeth graze and pull on her nipple.
The ripping of foil stirs Riza from the daze she's in, and she withdraws her hand. They're slick with the evidence of her arousal, and her breath catches in her throat when he takes them into his mouth.
"You're terrible," she manages, smiling weakly as her other hand dips to roll on the condom. He's incredibly hot against her skin, and she feels herself become even wetter in response.
He releases her fingers with an obscene pop. "You like it," he teases, wrapping an arm around her waist. The strands of her hair flutter as he twists them around and sets her down on the soft plush bed. She leans back against the pillows. The morning light filtering through the blinds highlights him against the dark of his room. The fantasies she'd had about him couldn't compare to what was in front of her now. The faded, mottled scar reaching around the curve of his waist almost seemed to complete him, if that were at all possible.
Her eyes close instinctively and her head digs further into the pillow as she takes him in with a sudden gasp; enjoying how easily he fills her, unrepentant of how much she wants him and how her body does a good job of showing it. She becomes pliant under him, like clay ready to be molded by his hands. His hips move against her in a steady pace and he disappears in the crook of her neck. Her fingers get lost in his hair, tugging and running nails across his scalp as he arrives at places that curl her toes and makes her feel tremors in her chest. His hand hooks at the bend of her leg and lifts it over his hip, and Riza raises the other, wrapping both around his waist. Her back arches and sweat begins to dampens her skin with the heat of his.
She could be lost in this forever.
The sound of an alarm goes off once more and she looks around, confused. She tries to say words that aren't moans or gasps, but they fail her.
"Ignore it," he grunts.
Her legs, coiled around him, loosen from the distraction, and he eases himself out of her.
A whine urges her to be released as she feels a tug at her hips asking her to turn over, so she does before she thinks about it.
For a moment, in that frozen second, she's grateful she can't see his face from this position, and the hands that rests on her hips lose their grip momentarily. He's quiet and she can almost hear the cogs shifting in his head, clicking into place.
"It was… from a long time ago," she says carefully, mirroring his response, tilting her head to see him out of the corner of her eye. She's surprised to see his brows furrowed, as if deep in thought, before he catches her eyes and his face relaxes.
He kisses the spot where her spine dips and her skin is tickled there. For a moment, she thinks he forms the words "I don't care" softly against her skin. His hand goes back to remind her how wet she is for him, burying himself in her again.
The headboard receives the full brunt of her mewls with her head thrown back from the pleasure that reaches depths, tingling her abdomen. The air stays in her lungs, holding her breath as her muscles, fatigued and tense, contract once again. It's slower this time, though, like the bar has been pushed almost out of reach. The slide of him against her - in her - teases at a feeling she can only catch the edges of, in this position at least. Until the strokes become longer and deeper. She can't place how or why he does it: his hands grip at her hips but they also move about her tempered skin. His sensual touch, tender or errant, penetrates beyond her dermis and into her being until she reaches that higher, now familiar place.
This one is different, is all she can remember thinking right before she comes. "Fuck, fuck!" She squeaks, scrambling for purchase on the bed and arching her back deeper. For a moment, she feels nirvana right at arm's reach.
They lie there on his bed, catching their breath, and her heart is beating quick.
"How old are you?"
She blearily opens an eye and he's just as exhausted as she is, chest rising and falling in quick succession. "Twenty." She laughs, then he laughs at his afterthought when so much has already happened. "A bit late to be worrying about that. You?"
"Twenty-nine."
"Ah, so not entirely senile."
He glares at her playfully, and says to her, "Not yet." She bites her lip to stop herself from laughing. He gets up, rolling back the condom carefully and scrunches it into a tissue, throwing it into the small bin next to his dresser. He kneels, tossing her scattered clothes towards her on the bed, and rummages around in the drawers, presumably for his own.
Riza ignores the twinge of guilt that settles in her gut and scoops them up, ducking into the ensuite and closes the door behind her. The arousal beginning to dry between her thighs is uncomfortably sticky, and she goes about cleaning herself as best she can. Her thighs tremble like a newborn foal as she tries to rest her weight on one leg, the friction of the washcloth dragging over her skin almost too much. She feels full, she feels sated beyond all measure.
She runs a hand through her hair quickly, trying to arrange her fringe into something respectable. It's not as terrible as she fears - in the reflection of the mirror, the only evidence of what she has been up to is the deep pink of her lips, and the blush still scattered on her cheeks. To anybody else, she could've been running down the street.
The slick feeling lingering between her folds says otherwise.
She hears the low tones of his voice as she dresses, like he's speaking but not to her. She's careful as she opens the bathroom door, peeking around the wood. He's got his back to her, leaning atop the dresser, with a phone to his ear.
"No, I'm not ignoring you."
Oh, shit. She doesn't want to jump to conclusions but there's very little reasons why someone would say that, in any given situation. His body language shouts exasperated but patient. A great deal of respect for the person on the other line. If she focuses, she can hear a woman's voice on the other line. No, no, no. This is a bad idea. She flattens herself against the wall to eavesdrop shamelessly.
"Entiendo pero … No. ...no. I can't visit every weekend."
His language changes, the inflections twisting his accent into something warmer, more emphatic. She doesn't remember why it's familiar.
"Madre, por favor."
Of course, it's Spanish. She's picked up enough from high school to understand "Mother" and "please."
"I'll see. Okay. Cuidate. Love you too."
She inches her way out of the bathroom as he's putting down the phone. "You speak Spanish?"
Startled, he turns around and taps briefly on the phone like she's caught him off-guard. "Oh, yeah. That. My mother… Breakfast?"
She feels like she shouldn't. Her welcome feels overstayed. But he's swaying like an awkward schoolboy and she feels compelled to join him. She half smiles, "I'd have to pick up a change of clothes."
A salacious grin forms. "Oh ho. You're coming back tonight?"
Not exactly what she had in mind but she won't look a gift horse in the mouth - well, in this case a Mustang. "There's still work to be done."
The traffic is surprisingly minimal in the city at half past eight in the morning. She's grateful that a walkway runs by her flat that she can duck into - not that she doesn't trust Roy, but it's a lot easier to have him park one street over and attract less attention. She can only imagine the uproar if either Olivier or Rebecca recognised him, despite the tinted windows of his SUV.
The less questions and prying eyes, the better.
The flat is dark when she unlocks the front door and Riza lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. It would make her quick visit a lot easier to complete before -
"Are you gonna tell me where you've been?"
Riza shrieks as Rebecca suddenly appears in the hallway, looking every bit the frazzled housewife persona Riza is certain she's aiming for. Her hands are firmly on her hips and her normally unconcerned appearance is instead replaced by scrunched eyebrows and a mouth set into a hard, thin line. The look is topped off by the threadbare dressing gown and worn bunny slippers that she gave her for her birthday last year. It would be comical, if Riza wasn't trying to stop the heart attack she could feel coming.
"Oh my god Rebecca I could've-"
Her flatmate stomps her foot childishly. "Where have you been? I have been ringing your phone non-stop and I was damn near ready to call the cops!" Rebecca's lips are quivering and Riza feels a rush of affection for her flatmate.
"My phone died," Riza answers after a moment that stretches on too far, toeing off her shoes and brushing past her friend down towards her bedroom. "I've just come to pick up my charger - Natalie called in sick at the library so I'm covering for her today." The lie rolls off her tongue a little too easily and she tries her best to shrug off the implications of the slippery slope she's already balancing on.
"You never work weekends," Rebecca grumbles as she follows her down the hallway, running a hand through her hair roughly. "I made you mac'n'cheese last night and I waited and I waited-"
"I know, I know," she replies distractedly, throwing down her bag onto her bed and letting herself breathe for moment, trying to bask in the sheer insanity that the last twenty-four hours had been. She'd fucked her professor. Multiple times. And she liked it.
If she was fucked before, cumming on her fingers to his name, she didn't know what that made her now.
Debauched, perhaps?
"Will you be home for dinner?" Rebecca asks, leaning in the doorway. Riza shrugs, trying to ignore the feeling of shame creeping over her. It's not that she can't trust her best friend, but there are some secrets that are better left unspoken. She's not sure she could explain it well enough even if she tried.
"I don't know," she answers as she rummages around for the bare essentials: deodorant, her charger, a maybe change of clothes if she can shoo Rebecca away. Her phone burns a hole in her pocket as the seconds tick on and Rebecca still lingers by the door. She already feels nervous just like this - god knows what would happen if her friend realised what she had been doing.
And what you're going back to do, a snide little voice inside her head reminds her.
Rebecca is watching her with an expression Riza can't quite pinpoint and she thinks better of trying to pack a toothbrush - besides, Roy seemed like the kind of guy who would have spare toothbrushes. Or not. It's truly staggering how little she actually knows of him, how little she can gauge of his character.
Instead, she grabs a sweater from her closet and looks at Rebecca pointedly, who makes a big fuss of closing her eyes. Riza is quick to change, mindful of the few bruises she can see peeking over the fabric of her bra. It's unlike her to succumb to lust - because that's all this is, she thinks to herself harshly, stuffing some shirts and a pair of leggings into her bag. It's unlike her to want to go back to him, to want to feel him - whether his fingers, his tongue, or more - and a little part of her is scared of what this all means, what will happen when things take a turn for the worse.
Riza knows she's playing with fire.
"Will you be back tonight?" Rebecca asks pointedly and Riza exhales in frustration, grabbing a hair tie off her nightstand and roughly pulls her hair into the approximation of a ponytail.
The gasp behind her makes her turn past her mirror and the spots along her neck tell Riza the jig is up.
"Going to the library my ass-" Rebecca sounds torn between being accusing and gleeful and Riza grits her teeth, pushing her bangs out of her face and refusing to look her friend in the eye.
"Rebecca it's not-"
"You were fucking someone!" her flatmate squeals and Riza winces a little at the volume, batting away the hands that are reaching for her shoulders. "You little harlot, you honestly thought you could-"
"Rebecca-"
"-even try to hide this from me, because honey-"
"No, I-"
"-your neck is atrocious and I would like his number because-"
"Rebecca!" Riza nearly shouts, yanking her friend's hands down from where they they were on her neck. Her friend gapes inelegantly and Riza wills herself not to just storm out now. "I don't - I don't need this from you right now," she explains, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. "It's new and I-"
"No, Riza, I didn't mean-"
"I'm still…" she trails off, deliberately looking anywhere but at her friend; she can already feel the burning in her cheeks and inwardly she hopes that's enough to mitigate whatever evidence Roy left on her neck. Instead, she's reminded of the sensation of said lips on her neck and Riza struggles not to automatically shiver at the memory. "It's new and I'm, uh - I'm still trying to figure this out, 'Becca." It's not quite the apology she wants to say, but Riza knows that the second she leaves her friend will be scouring for any evidence of who her mystery hookup is.
Rebecca nods cautiously and Riza can already see the cogs turning in her head. In some ways she's almost grateful it's her professor - the likelihood of 'Becca going out on that far of a limb is very slim - but still. This is why she made him park his car a street away. Rebecca, despite all her antics and cavalier attitude, was not someone to underestimate when she put her mind to it.
"Just…" Rebecca stalls, twisting her fingers together. "Be safe, yeah? Use condoms, and if he tries to make you do something-"
"Goodbye!" Riza throws over her shoulder as she ducks back down the hallway, deliberately shutting the front door behind her with a touch more force than necessary.
They arrive at some hole in the wall. She's probably passed it a thousand times but never paid any attention to it. It smells of someone's home cooking but it's foreign to her.
They seat themselves at a booth and it's dark with slow moving fans overhead. A larger, older woman with an accent approach them and greets Roy with an emphatic smile. She comments on how he's finally dining in and she turns to greet her warmly. Feeling out of place, Riza awkwardly nods as the laminated but worn menus. She can't recognize any of the food that's typical for a diner. He orders coffee for both of them as she tries to interpret the pictures and match them to the descriptions, but finds not logical connection. She sees eggs simply enough but- "what are plantains?"
"Oh sorry. I suppose I should I have warned you before - is this okay?"
"Of course, I'd just like to know what the menu is."
He smiles sympathetically. "Plantains or platanos are like a sweeter version of bananas when fried and ripe."
"You eat fried bananas for breakfast?"
"I eat plenty of sweet things for breakfast," he says nonchalantly, perusing the menu.
She scoffs, running a hand through her hair as she looks to the side just in time for the waitress to bring them two mugs of coffee and it smells like the blend he'd bring her in the mornings.
"Do you know what you two want?"
He orders something in Spanish in a pace that's too quick for her elementary knowledge to pick up, except for the words "bandeja paisa".
By complete and total surprise, the woman grabs Roy's cheek and tugs it gently back and forth. They banter in Spanish and a depraved part of her recognizes where he gets the tongue flexibility from.
Judging by the menu, it's a large platter with steak, avocado, rice, beans, and other food items she can't identify. For herself she orders simple scrambled eggs. The waitress looks at her as if she's waiting for more and then picks up her the laminated when Riza doesn't offer anymore.
"You're not hungry?" he asks as she walks away.
She shakes her head. "No, but clearly you are."
"Can you blame me? I had quite the workout last night."
Their booth remains in a comfortable silence until their food arrives and suddenly, the words crowd on her tongue like bees. She isn't sure how to begin this particular conversation - how does one go about propositioning someone for more of...whatever this was? Fuck buddies was too harsh, too crude a term for her tastes.
"Where are you right now?"
She flashes him a quick smile and it fades as he squirts lime over his steak. "Just...thinking."
"About?"
Riza pushes her eggs around on her plate. "Us." The word is a weird taste in her mouth. "I'm not really in the habit of hook ups."
"Is that what you think this is?" Her head jerks up and he's not even focused on her, instead cutting up his piece of steak.
"It isn't?"
Roy shakes his head, his shoulders sagging from savoring the meat and chewing thoughtfully. "Hooking up implies it was a opportunistic meeting, a split-second decision," he says after swallowing his mouthful. His cutlery hangs loosely from his hands as he fixes her with a intense stare. "There was nothing opportunistic about you."
Riza splutters, cheeks burning. "So - what, you're saying you seduced me?" Her eggs lay forgotten in front of her. He seems completely unperturbed by her reaction, taking another mouthful of his breakfast.
"I did, didn't I? Bought you coffees - which, by the way, you're welcome-"
"Buying me coffee does not constitute as seduction, sir."
He laughs loudly, leaning back in the booth and resting his cutlery on his plate. "Certainly didn't stop you from drinking them," he replies, crossing his arms, watching her with a - dare she say? - fond expression. "Truthfully, neither of us should've let it get to this point-"
"Says the adult nearing thirty-"
"We're both adults here Riza." There's a sharp edge to his tone and she curls her arms in close to her body. "Yes, it's highly unethical and undoubtedly I am one-hundred percent morally bankrupt as of this morning-" his lips quirk up and she knows all too well what his mind has drifted back to, "-but a part of me just kept saying 'fuck it'." He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I guess I did, didn't I?"
She takes a sip of coffee, trying to sort her thoughts. "So you don't regret it?"
"That's...more complicated," he begins, ripping off a section of the tortilla. "Do I regret sleeping with you? No. You're an attractive, clever young woman. I like making you squirm. You're very responsive and I like that." He winks at her none-too-subtly and Riza fails to stifle a snort. "But I do regret what position those actions have put us in. I mean sure, my own academic career is toast, but - your career, I-" he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I can say with certainty that I wasn't thinking about that when I kissed you in the library, and for that I'm sorry."
His apology is unexpected, and she's quiet as she mulls it over. "That's my own decision to make," she says finally. "And it's my own, moving forward too."
Roy stills. "And that is…?"
It's hard for her to say these words, be this open and honest about how she feels. She doesn't do well verbalising her thoughts at the best of times, and verbalising affectionate feelings...it's hard to do. She's never been good at it, never had the opportunities to practice. She swallows, and sets down her coffee mug. "If this was just a one-off, we wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have driven me halfway across town, wouldn't have waited for me as long as you did. I, uh - if you wanna continue this, then I'm - I would like that." She looks up to see him smiling broadly at her. "What?"
His smile widens, and Roy extends his hand across the booth table. She lets her fingers slip into his, and heat blooms across the knuckles that he strokes with his thumb. "I'd like that too," he replies. "But we have to be discreet about it. It's not going to be some kind of secret relationship-"
"I know," she cuts him off smoothly. "I'm not asking for that. But I don't see why we can't have this as it is..." she falters, and he squeezes her hand lightly.
The door to the diner chimes as another customer walks in, and Riza slips her hand out of his grasp, picking up her fork once more. She doesn't feel hungry, but the eggs tastes extraordinarily savory as though she was hungry. It doesn't take her long to clean her plate, and she watches with morbid fascination as Roy demolishes his own, much larger breakfast.
"I still need to get back to you for that little stunt," he says finally, pushing his plate to the side.
Riza sips her coffee. "For what?"
"For falling asleep in my class."
"Didn't I make up for it last night?"
He sets down his mug. "Quite frankly, no," he says. "I took it easy on you."
Coffee sputters out of her mouth and it burns the tip of her tongue. "I understand the male ego, but there's no need to be cocky about it," she reassures him, grabbing a napkin. "I enjoyed myself."
"And I enjoyed you, but there's little to no ego involved here. I can tell you haven't been particularly adventurous in your sexual experiences."
Her cheeks flush the color of the tacky pink on the wall.
"There's nothing wrong with that, of course," he continues offhandedly, "but now you have the opportunity to change that. If you want."
She huffs a little through her nose and crumples the napkin in her hand. "You mean to tell me you're some kind of sex god?"
He shrugs noncommittally. "In the context of your experiences, yes."
She leans in towards the table, holding her elbows with an air of indignation from his confidence, yet this part of him thrills her. "Then tell me, O mighty one, how can I be more adventurous?"
He's silent for a moment, mulling over his words before he rests his chin over his fingers and eyes her deviously. "Wouldn't you rather me show you?"
Becca Catalina, 10:04am i promise i wont pry that much but i gotta kno
Becca Catalina, 10:04am how good is he for u to be going back for another round
Riza Hawkeye, 10:06am three orgasms this morning
Becca Catalina, 10:10am holy fucking shit