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Chapter 14 - Days 188-189

The car droned quietly. A red light kept them waiting, ignorant of the fact that not a single other car wished to traverse the crossing. The streetlamps flickered to life. Soon, it would be completely dark.

"So… now what?" Havoc dared to break the silence.

Another few minutes until Havoc was dropped off, then home. It would be seven by the time Roy got to take off his stiff boots and eat a proper meal and – most importantly – enclose Riza in a long embrace. He missed her. A lot. It had only been a day and a half.

"Now I…" Roy shifted to first gear, easing off the clutch, "need to come up with better arguments. Didn't you and Catalina date for a while?"

"Still are," Havoc proudly confirmed.

Roy paused. How had he not known that with the both of them discreetly frequenting his house? Separately, of course. That must have been it. He never saw them together. That, and the fact that Roy's head was buzzing almost painfully with all he had to do, the secret he had to keep, the people he had to be wary of… He had no time for others and it bothered him. He had always been a good friend; an observant one.

"So in a way, you are superior and subordinate. Just not from the same commanding officer."

"We were both promoted. We're equal in rank," Havoc supplied, much to Roy's dismay.

He grumbled, "Then she only has to make it to Major General."

"Before the baby is born?" Havoc laughed. Roy sighed.

He raised his hand in brief goodbye when Havoc climbed out of the car. By now at the latest, he would have found out about Havoc's ongoing relationship with Rebecca. She was standing at the window up above, creakingly forcing the old thing open before yelling something highly suggestive. It immediately took effect. Havoc zoomed up the stairs of the building before the front door had fully shut.

Roy tutted to himself. He didn't have it in him to smile. And not only because he himself was never allowed to shout anything from the rooftops. He felt bitter where he had wanted to be thrilled for his friend.

His shoulders slumped. He was exhausted. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of that measly overpriced sandwich he had wolfed down on the train. The endless coughing of the General having sat next to him still boomed in his ear. Grumman's mistrusting squint kept drilling him with every blink. What a disaster.

Another red light, another empty crossroads. Reaching behind him, the lush bouquet of flowers rustled. Roy dumped it on the passenger seat as not to forget. It had suffered during the train ride. He didn't care – it wasn't his.

For some odd reason, Grumman's patience had drastically thinned when Roy had mentioned Riza specifically for a change of position. Ishvalan pox was too obviously fake with how much time had passed, so he had stayed as vague as possible. Grumman must have thought her to have a burnout with the reduced work in discussion and her long absence. He had moved heaven and earth to get that enormous get‑well‑soon bouquet to Roy before the train's departure, oddly taken with the story while not at all taken with Roy's plea.

A car rounded the corner. The headlights were turned off.

The lights turned green, so Roy paid it no mind until reaching a red light and finding the car not directly behind him, but waiting at the still green lights further down. No other car was around, pedestrians sparce and mostly drunken. It was a weekday – the East wasn't known for its prosperous Monday night life anyway.

When the car tailed at a safe distance for another few minutes, Roy halted close to the pavement. If he was in trouble – and he had no energy for the likes of it – he would rather get it over with immediately.

The car disappeared in the next side alley. Never passing him, never turning on the lights.

He took a long detour home. Where his muscles had been slack and heavy, they now tingled uncomfortably with tension. He parked in the neighbouring street, then walked as briskly as possible. His empty stomach complained some more, fingers jiggling with the keys, nearly losing them.

He'd contemplated bringing a good wine. Almost able to taste it, Roy had remembered in time that Riza couldn't drink – and if she couldn't, neither would he. It dragged his mood further down, had it trail behind him through dirty puddles. He didn't want to be grumpy. By now, he was almost ready to skip dinner and simply drop into bed for the rest of the week.

Hayate greeted him in the entrance, presenting one of Riza's slippers.

"Hey there, boy." Roy bent down to pet Hayate's head. Leaning on the wall, he squeezed out of his boots. He ventured one last look down the street but it was empty. "I see you've enjoyed a walk already." Tiny wet paw prints trailed down the hall, into the kitchen, up and down the stairs. Just how late was it? "Where's your—"

"Roy." Riza stood at the top of the stairs.

Roy's eyes popped. Any needs to eat vanished entirely, his appetite flaring up differently, embarrassingly strongly.

Riza was wearing see-through stockings that weaved floral patterns of white lace around her upper thighs. From there on, it seemed as if there was nothing but lace. It flowed from a beautiful satin bustier, allowing glimpses of her navel and below, a pair of black knickers. Roy stared shamelessly.

He didn't remember floating up the stairs, but there he was, her slender fingers nimbly slipping the buttons of his uniform open. His hands trembled. They had hardly grasped his belt when he found his torso naked and his boxers tight at the sight of Riza crawling onto the bed in that criminally enticing wisp of fabric. Backside to him. He swallowed hard.

"Come here." She patted the sheets. Her voice was feathery, much unlike Rebecca's wanton gnarl. It made goosebumps rise along his arms.

He shut the door. He never registered the content gnawing of Hayate downstairs on one of those chew bones that would take him forever, neither how Riza had crouched in front of him as she unbuckled his belt and brushed his trousers down his legs.

Roy drew a breath to speak. It got stuck somewhere between a compliment and whimper. Riza's hand trailed around his chest to his back, nudging him onto his front. Why his front? The mattress sunk under her knees at the height of his hips.

Staying still in anticipation, Roy mentally swept his eyes over her apparel again. He had never seen it before, wondering for a second if perhaps Rebecca had gotten it for Riza. If so, was it all a joke? Or was it maybe, just maybe, because Riza had requested it…?

Something cracked quietly, like a bottle of shampoo. A finger landed on his foot, and another, her hand enclosing it, rubbing something onto his feet that spicily kindled up his nose. Massage oil.

"Riza," Roy groaned, forgetting what he wanted to say. Her thumbs pressed into the ball of his foot, circled his heel and ankle. However she knew that it would hurt was unimportant because it hurt like hell. In the best way. "You don't have to do that," he croaked. She stopped. Immediately, Roy wanted to take it back.

Her knees shuffled towards his face. His ear was tickled by golden tresses, then by her lips.

"Let me do you a favour for once too." She brushed a kiss to his temple. Soon, pleasurable pain resumed tingling up his legs from the bottom of his feet, his ankles, his calves.

"To be honest," he said with barely any voice, "I had other things in mind when you presented yourself like that."

She'd never done it before, ever. She would let him ensnare her, rarely invite him with vapid insinuations, but she never seduced him. Even now, she had ultimately chosen a massage.

He couldn't complain. Riza had sat down on his lower back, quite literally drowning reason in a long groan of the most exciting pain when her hands heartily travelled from his thighs to his rear. Never had he considered it a sore spot but holy cow, had he been wrong. He bit his lip as Riza delved in with just a hint more care than she had with his legs. Care and, he found, a tendency to stay into dangerous territory. It made him wonder just when she had taken off his boxers.

Minutes passed. Roy didn't know how many. The alarm clock was right there on the nightstand, but all he heard was skin dragging over skin or a constant chain of sighs escaping his mouth.

Riza turned, belabouring the knots up to his shoulders next. First seated on his behind, she scooted up to his lower back. A most welcome pressure. Any erotic notions evaporated as she detangled the tension between his shoulder blades and erased the strain of his neck.

The oil smelt deliciously pungent. The pads of her fingers gyrated the zesty scent along his jaw, behind his ears and into his temples. In a sharp contrast to the strong motions, Riza gently cupped Roy's face, turning it the other way to avoid cramps in his neck. He smiled.

"You're a goddess," he raved when she finished popping the vertebrae all the way down his spine.

"I'm not done yet," she said above his ear. Dirty thoughts shot through his head without mercy when she whispered, "Turn around."

He did as he was told. Gladly. Finally, after hours and hours, the coughing General had vanished, Roy's ears tingling only with Riza's husky tone. His pulse accelerated, mouth dried out as she came into view. The lingerie was even more beautiful from this angle, veiling in her growing baby belly, breasts heavy inside the satin.

He reached out a hand but Riza leant away for more oil. And so he restrained himself, promised himself that he would until she was done. His efforts were immediately rewarded, because Riza apparently enjoyed her spot, straddling his abdomen to anoint the fronts of his thighs and shins. The lower she reached, the more heavenly became the view.

He wanted to pay her in kind; wanted to treat her to the same relaxation. More than anything, he wanted to reach out and knead that fine rear of hers. He did.

Riza's hands stuttered when his hands ran up her thighs to her behind. "So beautiful," he murmured, squeezing with delight. Avidly, he stroked a few fingers down between her legs. She stiffened, her grip on his knees tightening. "Sorry," Roy said. He was tempted to lean in and give a peck to her black knickers, but withheld this time.

Patience, he told himself. It was obvious enough how excited he was, something he almost felt bashful for given that he was stark naked.

Riza never uttered a word of rebuke. Adjusting to face him, shuffling downwards onto his awaking crotch, her eyes never gave her away. Fascinated, weirdly enough happily frustrated, Roy watched her expression remain unreadable as she coated his abdomen, chest and shoulders with oil. He groaned for more reasons than one when she went back into massage mode, seated on his stomach while gliding down his biceps with both hands.

His lower right arm surprised with a particular ache as she ploughed along strained muscles and tendons. He really wanted to kiss her. The moment she finished massaging his hand, he set it on her waist. Once the left hand was done and tingly and slick, he repeated the process on her other side, stealing beneath the veil of lace. He couldn't wait to spread oil on that impossibly supple skin of hers, preferably without reopening the bottle.

His thumb circled the side of her belly. He climbed higher, exposing it and what it allowed to be seen of her knickers.

"I didn't have time yet to make the matching set," Riza breathed in response to his hand hooking onto the waistband. His eyes were burning holes into it. He smiled. Her face observed silence, yet the mild hoarseness of her voice spoke volumes.

"You made this?" Roy asked, impressed. He rubbed the lace between his fingers. It was different from that of the stockings, not as delicate but just as ornate. He traced the seam on the side, bringing both hands up to fully cup her breasts. Ivory satin held by lacy straps. A nice detail he found himself admiring, tugging a finger under each strap to appreciate the way they lifted her bosom.

"From the—" Riza's words hitched when his finger glided along the underside of the bustier. It was pleated, each immaculate fold flittering beneath his touch. "Sheets," she managed just before his hands had snuck down the backside of her knickers. Her legs clamped around his hips, unintentionally – or perhaps intentionally – increasing the pressure on his groin.

Roy briefly closed his eyes, letting the warmth prickle through him. "Thank you." He placed his hands on her back, guiding her down. The urge to kiss her was only growing stronger. "I didn't think I could feel this good after such a shitty day."

"What happened?"

"Later," he mumbled. His left hand had journeyed southwards again, drawing idle patterns on her buttocks, drifting meaningfully. "First, I want to return that favour."

"You don't have to," she said, but he was already gently shoving her off and into the mattress.

"Rest assured, I want to." His tongue marked the crook of her neck. "Desperately." Against his previous, lust‑driven idea, Roy fetched the bottle of oil. He watched her as closely as she watched him. Nervous yet excited, he found.

He made sure to wait until she nodded her agreement.

"These working hands of yours need a vacation," he said against her palm, kissing it before treading his oily fingers between hers. It pinned her to the bed.

"They've become dry with all the scrubbing," she softly lamented. "I don't want to become a compulsive cleaner."

"Then how about doing something dirty instead?" Roy licked his lips. His hand hovered between her legs, played with the underside of her knickers.

"Yes, please."

The night was short, the morning quiet. Roy awoke with a hollow stomach but a heart ready to burst. For weeks, he had awoken by himself, Riza preparing breakfast, making sure that he would not be late. Just the previous morning, he had roused in a hotel, alone, kilometres away from so much as catching a glimpse of her.

Now his sleep‑crusted eyes caught all kinds of glimpses, each of them gorgeous naked skin. A huge smile stretched across his lips. Right there, right in front of him, Riza slept on. He kissed her shoulder three, four, five times. Her back rose and fell against him in a steady, quickened yet peaceful rhythm.

His fingers traced the well‑trodden path that was her spine, then back up, admiring the silky texture of her warm skin. She felt even warmer than usual, even warmer than pregnant. He liked to imagine that it was a persistent afterglow.

Riza was slowly killing off his arm, using it as a pillow. He could barely feel that she was holding his hand in front of her face, grasping it with both of her hands, snuggling into it.

His other, free one kept exploring. Brushing down her chest, omitting the centre as not to wake her, Roy drew generous spirals, continued downwards to enjoy the weight in his palm and the squish between her breasts. Being trapped had never been more appealing.

For the first time when outlining her ribs, Roy had to apply pressure. She really had gained some weight, he thought to himself, chuckling. Apologetically though not without amusement, his lips stamped her nape. She didn't register any of it. Her sleep was sound, perhaps owed to deprivation. Roy was still tired too.

When his journey finally led him to his true destination, Roy eagerly followed the curve of her belly. Big and bloated and beautiful. It stretched into his palm, radiated with even more heat than the rest of her body. Blood pulsed strongly at the underside where he knew veins to have become partially visible.

A different flutter rocked into Roy's hand. It sent the entirety of his insides aflutter in turn. Roy's smile broadened exponentially, indestructible against Riza's shoulder. Another tease. Promptly, there was another flutter. Hot and madly delighted, Roy enjoyed the responses to his ministrations.

He couldn't bring himself to stop, not until the baby gave a full-on kick.

Riza winced hard, suddenly wide awake.

"Goodness, you scared me." Her tone sounded thin, frightened.

"I'm sorry," Roy murmured, "I couldn't resist wishing him a good morning."

"He sure wished you one back," she grumbled. Slackening, the quick surge of adrenaline gave way for the overall soreness of her muscles. She sighed, rubbing her knees together.

Roy grinned. "I'm making breakfast today," he omitted any question, "but there's still time." Tiredly, happily, he lined her neck with kisses. Riza moaned lightly. She turned her head, breathing a grateful kiss to his lips.

And for a moment, Roy forgot about having to go to work, about having to recount his unsuccessful talk with Grumman and about the flowers on the passenger seat around the block. Just for that moment, he was only a man in his own house, his pregnant wife in his arms.