Royai 100 Themes:
17; Scars.
Watch out for: Spoilers, volume 10, 15.
Manga-based.
:
"Relax."
For once it wasn't him saying it; it was she.
The words rolled off her tongue with ease, her tone filled with a calming sound, as she kissed the raven-haired man gently, the fire to their left crackling softly as they shared a chair. He seemed tense. She knew this all too well and knew that his mind was drifting. If only she could peer within its confines and just read him that much easier…
"Mm?" the man murmured, his gaze lifting from straight ahead to her. There was a slight concern in her eyes, one he hated to see. "Sorry."
"Don't be," she replied softly, kissing his cheek ever so gently. "I worry about you, though. You think far too much for your own good."
A soft chuckle, one she thought she'd never hear again, came from his throat as he smirked slightly and turned his full attention to the blond. "I know. Thinking is what alchemists must do to survive. And," he shifted, causing the woman sitting softly on his lap to shift as well, "you asked me not to die. If I don't survive, I can't fulfill that wish."
That 'whatever' look crossed her face, obviously unimpressed and/or annoyed by his rant. "I'm kidding," he cooed with a kiss to her neck, which made her hazel eyes close. No wonder she never wore necklaces; her neck was her weak spot. He knew this all too well and often used it against her. Typical, typical Roy.
Her hand snaked to his own neck as he kissed to her collarbone. Lips meeting the collar of her black shirt, he raised a brow to her and received a small sigh in return. With her, he always asked. That was but one way how he showed her she was different than every other woman he thought he loved; he respected her and her body, and always asked before doing anything.
At first she was hesitant, thinking that his desire for her only had to do with the sex involved. Quickly he had proven her wrong as they frequently stayed the night at the other's house, even did simple things like shopping or just eating lunch out at a café. This, of course, was always carefully maneuvered away from the military's ever watchful eye. And although it worried her he constantly was there to remind her that he would never let anything tear them apart.
Roy's hands wormed their ways to the bottom seem of her shirt and with one smooth movement lifted the garment off, leaving his lieutenant in nothing but her red bra. Once more kissing on her collarbone, he could not help but smirk as he felt her own hands undoing the buttons of his white shirt to explore his chest with warm digits. She always did this chore with such precision; sometimes she did this a little fast. She could be quite the vixen when she wanted to be.
However, only a few moments of kissing down her body slowly did she pause. His once closed eyes opened and he pulled away from her neck to gaze at her. She avoided his gaze and her hand was limp on his leg. He wondered why.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, a hand taking gentle hold of her face to turn his way.
"Nothing," Riza insisted.
"I know you better than that," he told her with a slight frown.
Damn. The hazel-eyed woman gestured with an incline of her head to his chest and murmured with certain distaste, "Your scar."
His brows quirked and he gazed to his nearly undone shirt. Naturally, she had paused as soon as his scar was visible. Sure enough there was the burned tissue and the two faded holes visible for all to see. The fireplace's glow seemed to bring back unpleasant memories as she looked away once more. His thin onyx hues softened and he gazed to her.
"Yours make me react the same."
Her eyes returned to stare into his before she felt his delicate and warm hand just barely caress her shoulder. His frown deepened.
"I asked you to-"
"I hurt you."
Riza sighed softly and took a gentle hold of both cheeks, looking at him with a secretly saddened gaze. "You have no reason to regret. It didn't even hurt after the first few burns."
Just talking about it seemed to make his stomach upset. He exhaled and looked her in the eyes. "… Is this your first time seeing mine?"
A pause. "Yes, and no. I've seen the burn and the wound, but not the scar."
That's right, he thought, recalling his time in the hospital and the lack of time he had with her from the attack to that very moment. It really was the first time she'd seen it; at least, seen it after it 'healed'. "I suppose you actually have an excuse to be down. Mine was shortly shot down."
She only shrugged. Usually his little puns and jokes made her smile, but not this time.
He sighed once again noting the failure to even get a giggle. With ease he shifted to look at her while reclining gently. "I was thinking about that before, you know." This got her silent attention. "I'm still alive. That's all that matters."
"But you-"
A finger to her lips silenced her. "Scars remind us of things we would, most likely, rather not relive. Those experiences, however, usually teach us something of value. If we forget that lesson the scar is there to act as a note never to forget it." His forehead touched hers as he asked in a porcelain voice, "Do you understand?"
Her forehead moved against his. "Good."
Hawkeye's soft lips pressed against Mustang's, and her hand gently finished removing the shirt from his skin; her hand rested close to the scar before she continued to caress his skin. His lips moved down and his hands, careful to avoid her own delicate burns, unhooked her bra as the heat of the night slowly began to intensify.
His reminded her of mortality, and how she would die without him.
Hers reminds him of pain, and how he would never hurt her again.
Yet it seemed their scars, despite being ugly and brutal, helped the two understand one another and made sure their love would last the years.