Against the Odds

by Carpathian Rose

The Promised Day loomed. The odds were against them. If this was to be their last morning, their last day, their last night... their last everything, they wanted to make it count. Roy/Riza

The Promised Day.

It loomed over those heavy with the impending knowledge that this may very well be their last day. Their last day. Their last night. Their last smile. Their last laugh. Their last time within a lovers embrace. The last time they ever saw a loved one's face or held their child. It was an impending doom of the last of everything. They could win. It was a chance that they were all willing to fight for.

But they could very well lose.

And the odds were not in their favor.

They had overcome every obstacle in their path. Edward and Alphonse had survived the horrid outcome of the forbidden taboo of human transmutation. Albeit Al had lost his body and Ed his arm and leg, but they had survived.

The Colonel.

He had survived through sheer will by the guidance of her at his back. Through his own stupidity and forced will, they had both pushed forward through their own battles. They both had. A secret oath to each other and one that she would keep. She would follow Roy Mustang into the flames of Hell if that was where this battle led him. She would willingly burn at his side for all the evil they had done in Ishval if this battle led to the end of them all.

Those odds were in their favor.

Death.

The Cathedral was wreathed in shadow, the setting sun slowly starting to push through the stained windows in a kaleidoscope of colors. The eerie sound of an organ played in the distant part of the church; an eerie reminder of a funeral once held. It was almost fitting, considering what tomorrow meant for them all.

Strangely enough, Riza Hawkeye wasn't afraid.

She was calm. She was accepting.

She would never give up, not if the Colonel was alive. As long as he lived, she would fight. Death would have to be forced on her and she would bring down as many with her as she could if that death was forced on her tomorrow.

She wasn't sure why she was in the church. She wasn't even so sure that she believed in God. Perhaps, as a child she did. She had prayed nightly and daily for the sake of her father. Protect him. Help him with his work. Teach me. Guide me. Love me. She had been a child in desperate want of her Father's love. But her father had simply been…incapable. His work had been his true love. Selfish and unyielding. He had carved that love into her soul and back with ink.

Her prayers had gone unanswered.

Roy had once told her in those days of his alchemic lessons with her father that Berthold had loved her in the only way he knew how. But she wasn't so sure that even the Colonel himself believed that. She had grown to fear her father and the possessive nature that consumed him when he lost himself in his work. Roy, in their teenage years, was the only constant she had known. She would have liked to think that he was the brother she had never had—or even the father figure that she had so longed for.

A family, perhaps.

But Roy Mustang was none of those.

She didn't see him as a father figure or a long-lost brother. There was no familiar ménage when she had looked upon Roy in their younger years. He was her friend—yes. She had known him far longer than any could have assumed. Most assumed it was the Academy in passing, though it was clear to some that they had met prior when she had made herself known after the Extermination of Ishval.

"Do you remember me, Sir?"

They had grown up together, he the apprentice of her father. He'd been there when her father had lain on his death bed—that was perhaps the sanest her father had been—when he lay dying. She had been a skinny girl in her teens, and he was just coming into his own. She had watched Roy struggle to understand the meaning of Alchemy and struggle to define what made Flame Alchemy what it was. She watched as he struggled to decipher what lay in the notes her father had him read over and over.

"Here. Father said to read it." Riza glanced over Roy's shoulder at the already strewn pile of books on the table. He didn't look shaken in the least at the added book to his already behind lessons. He simply took it.

"Thank you."

His fingers brushed hers where she held the books binder, and a shiver raced down her spine. They stared at each other and Riza bit her bottom lip. He looked uncomfortable. He opened his mouth as if he were going to speak and then he shut it again. And then he took a step towards her, the book still in his hand. He looked unsure, as if he wanted to ask—

He leaned down and kissed her.

Riza couldn't move. She didn't even close her eyes—they widened.

Her first kiss. In the mind of a young girl, all she could think was, my first kiss!

Her first kiss!

It was a quick press of his lips against hers and then he was pulling away. He stared down at her, blinking furiously. She was thirteen, he was fifteen. They stared at each other in silence and then Riza lifted her hand and touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. He'd kissed her. Her tongue slid over her bottom lip and his eyes followed.

The front door opened, and they both jumped apart guiltily. Roy hastily turned towards the table and began sorting through the books while opening the one on his left. Riza hurriedly opened the refrigerator door to prepare for supper.

They knew better.

Berthold Hawkeye may be a man obsessed and lost in his work, but Riza Hawkeye was still his only child. His only daughter.

The simple truth was, there was nothing before the kiss and there was nothing after.

Nothing but the brush of his fingers against her hips from behind when he needed to move around her. A soft touch of fingers against her own when she was giving him a glass of water. Fingers touching when she handed him one of her father's books. He would often give her blonde hair a tug when she was distracted.

Nothing more and nothing less than the burden of Flame Alchemy.

There was none like it. It was the deadliest and the most corruptive. Power was a greedy thing—and that is what Flame Alchemy was. Power. It was all consuming and it had consumed her father's soul in the end through his research.

She had feared that Roy would fall into the same dizzying haze of madness.

But he hadn't succumbed. He'd been steady in his learning. He wasn't greedy. He simply wanted to learn. He wanted to protect. He wanted to make a difference.

Just like her, years later… There is someone I have to protect.

But he hadn't protected anyone, had he? He had taken what he had learned from her father and created mass casualty and a wave of burning death. They both had. Because she had trusted him with her father's research. It was her fault as much as it was his.

Her father's obsession. Roy's goal. Her sin.

That sin had been carved into her back through painful ink.

"Do it." Her voice trembled as she faced away from him, her back bare. Her arms were folded up in front of her, keeping HIS jacket trapped against her chest as she waited in the agonizing silence for his snap, for the burning pain to begin. But there was nothing but the tense silence between them. And then…

"I can't." Roy spoke and for the first time since she had known him, his voice wasn't sturdy. It trembled just like hers. She didn't have to look at him to know that he was shaking his head. "I can't, Riza."

Riza. He'd called her by her name.

But he had to.

"I believed in you and entrusted you with my father's research." Goosebumps rose over her flesh. He had to. Because they both knew if he didn't, she would find a way to do it herself. "There can never be another Flame Alchemist." She finally whispered into the tense atmosphere of the small room. The proof of Flame Alchemy was on her back—and she would take it to her grave. Once she and Roy were gone from this world, Flame Alchemy would be no more.

Silence followed her statement for moments on end and then she heard material against skin as he lifted his arm. "I'm sorry." He said and Riza could hear the aching tone of bitterness underlying his words. His 'I'm sorry' meant something else altogether—forgive me. He turned his hand palm up and then brought his fingers together. He hesitated.

Roy snapped his fingers.

Her knees nearly buckled at the burning, piercing agony that followed. Because it was just that. Pure agony. It flared into hot, white heat that had her stomach churning. She bit back against the sob that rose as the fiery flames spread upward over her left shoulder blade. It was a constant smooth glide. He couldn't do it all in one blast of flame. He could go too deep; it had to be minimal pain. That fiery spread of flame over her one shoulder blade was seconds—but in her mind it felt like a thousand years. The burning wave of heat thrust to the right. It curved over fine lines and detailed transmutation and alchemic words. It burned over the equations of alchemic chemistry.

Every detail, every word, every stroke of ink that had been stabbed into her flesh.

She remembered the stabbing pain of ink permeating itself into her skin and bloodstream.

But this?

This was pure hell. The flames of hell. Pure agony.

A sob finally escaped as it burned further to the right, and she bit down so hard on her bottom lip that she tasted blood. The next second, she couldn't stop the cry that rose. She lifted HIS jacket and bit down on the navy jacket to muffle the sob. She could taste him in the fabric. Roy. No sooner had she done so than the shattering flames against her back stopped. She didn't cry. She wouldn't.

But her legs finally gave way, and she sank to her knees. Roy was there in an instant, his hands cupping her bare shoulders. "Damn you for making me do this." He bit out.

Her lips trembled as she lifted her head. "Finish it." All of it. Every trace had to be wiped from the world.

"No." Roy bit out and then his hands cupped the sides of her neck, his thumbs brushing beneath her chin. "It's enough." His voice softened. "Do you hear me? It's ENOUGH."

She carried those thick scars as a reminder of her guilt.

All those memories came to the forefront of her mind. Things that she had pushed to the furthest depths of her consciousness. Things never to be brought up again. Given what tomorrow held, it could very well be her life flashing before her eyes.

Someone dropped to the bench beside her, as silent as she was stealthy. His thigh pressed against hers. "I never would have taken you for a woman of faith, Lieutenant." She didn't have to turn to know it was him. Fire. Smoke. Did fire itself have a scent in the form of man? It did. Sandalwood. Rich, slightly sweet with undertones of something spicey. Balsamic and like the earth.

Roy Mustang.

She hadn't heard him come in, much less approach.

"I'm not." Her thought from earlier came back—she didn't even know if she believed in God. Why then, was she praying so fervently that they survived the upcoming battle? "I believe in you, Colonel."

Please. A silent plea in her heart. A prayer to the God above.

"How did you know where to find me?" She finally asked.

Roy shrugged from where he sat beside her. "Rebecca."

Of course, Riza thought.

Her eyes dropped to the shadows at her feet as a familiar fear crept through her. Selim Bradley.

No matter where you are, I will be watching…from the shadows.

Pride.

But it didn't matter anymore, did it? Tomorrow was the Promised Day. Any subliminal messages she had needed to get to the Colonel, she had already done so. But none of that mattered. She knew that. Fuhrer Bradley Wrath knew that. Pride knew that. There were no monsters in the shadows as there had been for months. Even if Pride was watching, she knew he would do nothing. There was nothing more they could do. For the moment, against all odds, she was free.

"Lieutenant."

She looked down when Roy took her hand. He just held it there against his thigh, his thumb smoothing against the back of her hand. His timing…

He was always on time. Somehow, he just always knew.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you still have my back?"

Riza lifted her head. "You know I do, sir." How could he ever think less?

Roy leaned forward, his arms on his thighs, his hands resting between his knees—but he never let her hand go. He still held it. It was the first time he'd ever done such a thing in all the time she had known him. She knew it was risky. There were fraternization laws in place for a reason in the military. She was aware of the rumors that had been speculating about them for years now. But they were just that. Speculation and rumors. Their relationship had always been platonic both inside and outside the workplace. There was nothing inappropriate. She didn't fear martial law because there was simply nothing to be held up.

It was ironic that her grandfather was always on insisting on Roy paying her a little more attention. Much like Hughes when he constantly raved of Roy getting a wife.

The only relationship they had catered to had been between him and her persona of Elizabeth and that in itself was a façade as well.

They weren't alone; so, it was a risky move. But she didn't remove her hand, either. While they sat in the back of the church, there were other people here and there near the front in different pews. There were ministers of the church of came and went, blessing the church with thurible bowls.

"Why do you believe in me, Lieutenant? You've given up promotions to remain by my side., You've given up your life to follow mine." He asked and for the first time, Riza realized that he felt what she felt. Uncertainty for the day to come.

"Because you're worth believing in, sir." She said softly. "We both have blood on our hands. But you were the one who said you wanted to make it right. Everything we did…You were willing to take that first step. We're not perfect, but you're still striving for what's right in a world full of wrong." She wouldn't have made it this far without following him. He was the one who had put that into motion. He wanted to right all the wrongs in both him and this country.

He shook his head, but she knew he wasn't disagreeing with her—it was a simple notion of movement. "Nothing's perfect." He said then, his low murmur in agreement with hers. "Not even the world. But it's still there for us and trying the best it can." He lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. "And that's what makes it so damn beautiful."

She did pull her hand away from him then. Her heart gave a funny little jump. "Are you drunk, Colonel?"

He shook his head again. "Far from it, Lieutenant." He almost sounded offended that she had asked him that.

It wouldn't have surprised her if he had gotten drunk. He had called Elizabeth on many occasions drunk. Elizabeth had had to pick Roy Mustang up on more than one occasion on many a late night because he was too drunk to drive himself home. But then again… she knew her superior. There were too many odds not in their favor to risk it for a night spent drinking to drown one's woes.

He was as sober as she.

She looked away. "It's getting late, Colonel. Let me drive you home."

"And how are you planning to do that, Lieutenant?"

Ah…yes… She'd been with Rebecca before her. Rebecca had dropped her off.

"It's getting late, Lieutenant." He mimicked her with a teasing tone to his voice. "Why don't I drive you home?"

And there he was. The infamous Roy Mustang. She was used to this side of him. The lazy side. The teasing side. The side that flirted with every woman he saw. She stood, schooling her face in a mask of indifference that he knew very well. "Thank you, Colonel."

He followed her outside and down the long set of stairs. She was vaguely surprised to see the car parked out front at the base of the stairs. It was almost 11pm. But…

The odds were against them tomorrow.

An illegally parked car wasn't much of a hassle, was it?

He opened her car door, and she slid in silently. He followed on his side before they were enclosed in the small space. The engine roared to life silently with a twist of his fingers. They sat there in silence. He didn't pull off. Waiting…tense.

Riza looked down at her hands and realized she was squeezing her fingers.

"Do you remember what I said, Lieutenant?" He said then, his voice low, and Riza lifted her head.

She knew what he meant.

You're under strict orders not to die.

The odds had always been in their favor until now.

She nodded wordlessly.

Roy stared at her, the silence seeming to stretch between them. Minutes into hours it seemed. But it was seconds. He moved then, his hand lifting to brush her hair back from her face. Another moment of silence before he was cupping her cheek. "Tell me." He said softly, but with a firm tone of authority underneath.

"You gave me strict orders not to die, Colonel, sir." She had to swallow past the tightness in her throat.

"That order is the same now and tomorrow as it was then. Are we clear, Lieutenant?" He murmured.

Because God damn, but those odds were not in their favor and they both knew it.

She nodded, blinking against the sudden stinging in her eyes.

"I didn't hear you, Lieutenant."

She knew the undertone of authority was there—but he only gave the softness and low timber of his voice. She nodded again before finally voicing what he wanted to hear. "Yes, sir, Colonel sir. I will not die." She would have given him a salute, but the sudden intimacy between them just didn't make it feel right.

His fingers ran through her hair again, though the heel of his palm never left her cheek. He stared at her for a moment more, as if contemplating…

And then he leaned towards her slowly. The leather of his seat gave way beneath the shift, creaking ever so silently. It was slow in coming, as if he was giving her time to stop him. He stopped an inch from her lips, as if he'd caught himself—and then he kissed her softly. He simply kissed her, his hand cupping her cheek.

Riza remained frozen against the soft brush of lips. She never would have imagined that his lips were so soft. So warm. Her superior was kissing her. No, Roy Mustang was kissing her. It was innocent. It was sweet. It was beautiful and quiet.

He was just as shaken as she was about what tomorrow held. Otherwise, he never would have made such a bold move. She knew that. He knew that. Riza realized that with a certain depth of loyalty. He had always respected their relationship and boundaries. He would truly have to be shaken to do something so foolish.

"Are you going to shoot me?" Roy murmured as he pulled back, but still close enough that she could feel his breath against her lips.

Riza opened her eyes—wondering when she had closed them to begin with. Why would she close them? The kiss had been nothing more than a simple brush of lips. Enough to have her heart jumping all over the place. "Why…why would I shoot you, Colonel?"

It was enough, Riza realized. A simple kiss. Something she would take to her grave happily if tomorrow didn't turn out… she deserved that. He did. They both deserved a little happiness.

Because those odds weren't in their favor.

His expression was just as sober as hers, she realized. She hated the look that had him looking so lost and forlorn. Just as lost as she was. The outside world couldn't see it. But she knew him as well as he did her. That was the simplicity of it. "I will not die, sir." She sought to reassure him. It wasn't fair that she couldn't command the same thing of him.

I have someone to protect.

But that wasn't his job. His job was to overlook and command and lead. Hers was to protect and follow orders.

The silence grew between them, nothing but the gentle hum of the engine beneath the hood. He simply stared at her before his hand lowered, sliding around the back of her neck. She felt the curve of his fingers seconds before he was applying a gentle pressure…his lips touched hers again. Just as gentle, a slow glide.

She didn't stop him. She didn't stop her own lips from moving against his. Because she deserved this, didn't she? She could have this kiss because tomorrow might be the end of them all. Even if they did somehow manage to survive, it was a secret they would both have to take to the grave.

They could both have this kiss.

So, she deserved this. She deserved something so mundane as a kiss from the man she lo—

Because the odds of surviving tomorrow were not in their favor.

Riza leaned into the kiss, her body turning slightly. God damn, but she deserved this because she had never taken anything for herself in years. Her hands lifted just as she felt his lips open over hers. Her fingers touched his hair, sliding through the dark strands. She felt the press of his tongue against her lips and opened. His tongue glided in a slow thrust, sliding over hers and she followed his retreat. He tasted warm, like the embers of the flames that he was so well-known form. She could taste the heat in the kiss; she swore she could. Maybe it was because the Flame Alchemy was so engraved on him from the inside out; but it didn't matter at that moment.

She leaned closer, lowering one hand to brace on the middle console that separated the driver seat from the passenger. She wanted to be closer. Feel him. Breath him in through the kiss. He must have sensed it or perhaps wanted the same thing because his hand swept down from the nape of her neck to press against the small of her back. She leaned further until she was halfway into the driver's seat, her stomach rising over the console.

The kiss was growing heavier, his lips harder. The fingers against her back applied a light pressure so that she swore she would have felt his blunt nails if she hadn't been wearing her military issued jacket. Riza couldn't help herself; she lost herself in the kiss, her lips moving over his fiercely, following where he guided. Her hands fisted in his hair; tangling the smooth strands.

Lord, but the man could kiss.

She wanted to touch him; by God, she'd never been allowed to touch him by more than friendship or work relations. Paperwork, the brush of fingers or threatening him with a thump of her fingertips against the back of his head.

So, she did just that. Her hands smoothed downward over the sides of his neck and over his collarbone and chest. She could feel the heat from his body pouring through his white shirt. His military issued jacket was already undone; nothing stopped her from running her hands up and down his chest, nothing stopped her from fisting her fingers in the fabric when his tongue thrust back and forth in a sweet imitation of something far more engaging than a simple kiss.

She moaned.

She moved closer, closer—not close enough. The middle console stabbed her in the ribcage, and she rose up high, unintentionally breaking the kiss with a soft curse. Roy must have understood her intention because when she threw a leg over the console and towards his door, his hands shot forward. He gripped her thigh as she climbed over smoothly with the other, his free hand gripping her hip to pull her down onto his lap. The steering wheel dug into the middle of her back, but she didn't care. His hands were pulling her head back down his.

She straddled him, rising up over him, but he made the position work—it was perfect. The alignment of their lips—she could kiss him this time. Gone was the awkwardness of trying to reach him over a middle object. She simply kissed him, her tongue moving in time with his, sucking him in before he could pull away.

His hands opened and closed over her hips, moving up and down her back with widespread fingers and palms. He already delved his hands beneath the navy jacket, his blunt nails dragging back and forth along her back. He loved touching her as much as she loved touching his chest.

She moaned again—she needed to breath. With a shuddering gasp she broke the kiss. She half expected him to pull her head back down like he had last time—she wouldn't have stopped him. She would happily suffocate if it meant kissing him like this. But his head dipped instead, his lips moving over the column of her throat. She heard him mutter something about her shirt—

"God damn shirt is in the way." Roy muttered, hooking his fingers in the turtleneck and tugging the long material down so he could continue his trail of blazing kisses.

Her eyes slid closed, and her head fell back. She could feel his tongue teasing every inch of skin he revealed, his lips and teeth going into play over smooth skin. He was careful not to leave any marks—they both knew better. But he scraped and sucked with his lips, tongue and teeth regardless. Just a little. Here. There. There. Here again.

Roy's hands wandered; he'd be a damn fool if he hadn't ogled Riza more than once in his time with her. He was a man, and she was a beautiful woman. The part of him that knew he could never touch her had wondered on occasion. How could he not? His hands wandered now. He wasn't thinking—she wasn't thinking.

He tugged further against the neckline of her shirt and the black material grew taunt. It wouldn't go any further past her neck and brushing up against his palm were the closed buttons of her military jacket. Roy groaned and then dropped his hands, his fingers curving around her hips to drag her down against him and forward.

Riza complied.

She wasn't expecting to come down against the sudden grinding motion of his hips that brought her body into direct contact with the hardness rising beneath his pants. Oh my. His hands did it again, grinding her hips back and forth against him once before he released one hip to wrap his hand around the nape of her neck. "God damn jackets in the way." He muttered before he pulled her lips back down to his for another blinding kiss.

Jacket? Jacket? He wanted—Riza reeled back but didn't break the kiss. The position was awkward; her lips and tongue locked with his as she arched her back to give herself more room to work the buttons on her jacket. The steering wheel dug into her back, but she managed the first button. One. Two. Three. Four—

His arm swooped around her back while his other hand pushed the jacket open and then gripped the middle of her shirt and yanked it upward. The hem came free of her pants and then he pulled upwards another few inches until the steamy interior of the car suddenly met the white lace that cupped heaving breasts. His hand was quick to follow, cupping one breast, squeezing, weighing it in his hand. It didn't matter that the shirt soon fell back down over the back of his hand, he groped and squeezed until her nipple pressed hard beneath the fabric.

He broke the kiss and moved so quickly that it left her dazed. She blinked rapidly as his head dipped, his hand shoving the shirt back up to bunch at her collarbone. His fingers curled in the lace cup and yanked down until one breast spilled free. And then the hot, wet heat of his mouth was closing around a bare nipple.

Her mouth fell open, there was nothing but the soft cry that caught in her throat. He suckled hard while his other hand gripped one hip again, grinding her back and forth over the hard ridge that pressed hotly between her thighs. "C-colonel…" Her voice was no longer put together. She stammered out his name and his teeth bit down hard enough to sting in a rebut.

She was seeing stars.

The feel of his mouth on her, the stinging bite of his teeth, the way her hips were suddenly moving over him of her own free will—riding him in a dangerous replica of what she really wanted to be riding—

The horn honked from the sudden pressure of his arm against the middle as he shifted position, bracing her back against the steering wheel and against his arm. They both jolted to sudden attention, his head jerking from her while her own head jerked up. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she stared down at him in the sudden stone-cold silence.

Horror filled her; what were they doing? She could see his own shock filtering through his dark eyes. She could feel the heat creeping up her shoulders and over her face as she rose and then slowly maneuvered back into her own seat. Her hands were shaking as she pulled down her shirt and then pulled her jacket closed around her. She didn't bother buttoning it back up.

What had just happened? How had it happened? She didn't lose control like that. Neither one of them did.

Her throat worked as Roy readjusted his seat. "It's late, Colonel. We should go home." Her voice was calm, but she couldn't stop the way it tilted near the end.

They hadn't broken protocol in over ten years.

Roy nodded and reached for the key in the ignition but caught himself, realizing at the last minute that the car was already running.

It had been running the entire time.

In front of a church for Christs sake.

The ride to her single room barrack was silent. Riza couldn't bring herself to say anything and neither could he. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. Their relationship had taken a monumental turn within the last hour. Something unexpected and buried so deep that it had caught them both off guard.

Because the odds of them ever being able to act on those feelings were little to none.

Relationship. Friendship. Partnership. Co-workers. Whatever they would call it, Riza could feel the sudden piercing silence between them. It went deep and chilled her to the bone.

The city blurred by in the darkness, only lit by the streetlamps and the occasional glow of yellow lights from those still not yet asleep. He turned onto a familiar lane and went further down before he pulled to the curb. She was oddly grateful that there were no military personnel out late, nor porch lights waiting down the row of silent single dormitories. The silence seemed to grow to a deafening roar when he turned the car off. He didn't look at her, but he paused, as if he wanted to say something but changed his mind. He simply got out of the car and started around to her side.

She would have opened the car door herself, but Roy was already there—like always. Opening the car door for her. No matter what happened between them, past, present or future, the Colonel would always be a gentleman. Roy Mustang may be known as an unapologetic debaucher who frequented Madame Christmas' bar, but Riza knew the truth deep down of who the Colonel was. A gentleman. Chris Mustang had raised him as such.

Riza didn't look at him when his hand appeared in the open door, but she did place her hand in his. "Thank you." She said calmly, grateful that her voice didn't sound like the wreck that she felt she was becoming on the inside. She pulled her hand away the moment she was on her feet.

She had to remain calm. She had to remain complacent. Not even in Ishval had she been such a nervous wreck.

A single kiss had turned her world upside down.

How had they managed that?

How could she let something so innocent and familiar to the human nature make her lose control like that? There had been nothing innocent in the way he had tasted. There had been nothing innocent in the way his hands had smoothed up and down her back. There had been nothing innocent in the way she had moved her hips back and forth against his in a sweet grinding motion. There had been nothing innocent about the hardness that she had felt between them when she straddled them. There was nothing innocent about the way her body had melted for his, growing hot and wet. There was nothing innocent in the thoughts that had followed.

If they hadn't fumbled against that damn horn, Roy Mustang would be buried so deep inside her that she knew she would be able to feel the very heart of Roy Mustang throbbing inside her body.

Rising and falling, taking him deep every time she fell back over him. They hadn't even bothered to take off any clothing. It was too cramped in the small interior. Just a quick maneuver of one pants leg and her underwear and then fumbling roughly with the fastening of Roy's pants until his body was free. And then she was lowering himself over him, guided by the pressure on her hips.

Right there in the front driver's seat.

"Lieutenant?" Roy said softly.

His voice jolted her back to reality and her head jerked up. "Yes, Colonel?" She took a deep breath—what the hell was wrong with her? It took her a moment to realize that he'd walked her to her door. It wasn't something new. It was something the Colonel would do out of respect and a necessity to make sure that she made it inside. He didn't say anything, and she felt like palming her own face. "Oh." The door. Oh. Oh. Of course. Right. She reached into the pockets of her jacket and then her pants pockets before suspiciously beginning to pat her body down. Where were her keys? Had she foolishly left them with Rebecca?

What was wrong with her?

Roy cleared his throat and then looked over her head. His hand lifted, unscrewing the overhead light fixture and then pulling out the spare key. Of course he would know. He often fed Black Hayate for her. No typical over-the-door place for her; no sir. She would put a key in the most dangerous live wire of places.

Right. Spare key. Unlock the door. Go inside. Go.

She reached out and took the key, turning away from him. It was excruciatingly loud to her when she placed the key in the lock and turned. Was it just as loud to him? The key turning, the locking mechanism clicking from the inside out, metal grinding inside the tiny lock? She turned the doorknob as if in slow motion, waiting for something monumental to happen… but nothing happened as she opened to the door to the shadows that waited beyond. She stopped at six inches. She heard the suspicious sound of a dog collar and then nails clicking on the floor.

Black Hayate.

She turned towards her Colonel. "Thank you, Colonel."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant."

So professional. A superior to his subordinate. He lifted his hand then and touched her hair again, a move much like the one before, before he was brushing the hair back from her cheek all over again. Not professional. Riza tilted her head back so that her hair fell through his fingertips. "Colonel." She scolded softly, though there was no real censure to her voice. "…someone could be watching." And they didn't need anymore rumors circulating. They didn't need truth put to the rumors.

His expression softened; he looked sad. "The bastards always are." He said instead, but his hand dropped none the less. He nodded at her then and her heart twisted.

The Colonel had always been her one constant. She had always followed him, even when it went against those rules that she sought to follow. He was her one constant in a world filled with uncertainty and enemies that would see the worst happen to them. He was her constant when she found it hard to keep going, even for him. He was the one that pushed her, that reminded her why she had to keep going. He was the one that scolded her when she forgot her own way.

For the greater good. For Amestris. For their friends and family. For the world. For him.

Her heart twisted and panic filled her. Tomorrow was The Promised Day. What if this was her last night with him? What if this was the last time they were ever alone? What if this was the last time he ever said something stupid, and she had to roll her eyes? What if this was the last time for everything? "Colonel—"

"Sleep well, Lieutenant." He said at the same time as he turned away.

"—would you like to come inside?" The words flew from her lips just as fast.

He paused and then turned to face her again. The silence stretched between them. He inclined his head, but he didn't answer—the inclination was a small nod.

Her breath whooshed out and she opened the door, and he followed her inside. She closed the door and for a moment they were encased in darkness before she flipped the light switch. She turned the lock; an automatic reaction without thought.

Black Hayate was waiting for her in the center of the living room, silent and awaiting command, before his eyes moved to the Colonel. Excitement flashed in his eyes, and he almost stood from his regal position, but he remained in place. But his tail gave him away. It hit the floor with an excited thud.

"I'll deal with your momma, Black Hayate. Daddy's here now, so come on." That was all the encouragement that Black Hayate needed because he rushed forward, his tongue lolling out. He jumped up and down happily, circling around Roy rapidly before he jumped up on his hindlegs against Roy, eager for the attention he knew was coming. Roy was urging him on, sinking to his knees, his fingers scratching roughly at the canine's ears, head and jaw.

Riza rolled her eyes at the teasing banter of her strictness and the fact that Roy considered himself Black Hayate's second master. Black Hayate was very familiar with Roy. Black Hayate would certainly never be running around the small dorm or jumping up and down if she were alone. She had trained him well with a strict but loving balance.

She shrugged out of her military grade jacket and hung it over the rack that sat beside the door. It was foolish having him here. He'd been in her dorm before, yes, but never alone. They'd always be accompanied by one person or another. Rebecca. Havoc. Fuery. A very loud and boisterous Armstrong.

But never alone.

She could feel the soberness from before coming back as she slowly turned to face the small living area. It was bare, except for the main essentials. A couch, a small coffee table. The small kitchenette sat to the side with a small table. A single serve coffee maker sat on one countertop. Small. Necessary. She didn't like clutter.

She had no illusions of continuing what they had started in the car. But it raised the suspicion that the Colonel was just as upset about the coming day as her. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here with her right now. This was out of character for both of them. What had happened in the car was inexcusable.

She couldn't help but continue to stare at him as he knelt on the floor. But she finally had to speak. "I know nothing can excuse my behavior, Colonel…but I apologize."

Roy paused at that, his hand slowing to a stop above Black Hayate's head. "Go on, boy." He murmured to the Shiba Inu dog at his feet. Black Hayate looked as if he didn't want to obey and for a moment, he didn't. He just stared there, a soft whine escaping his lips, but he soon realized that neither master was looking at him.

Instead, Roy lifted his head as he stood, those dark eyes meeting hers. It was like a lifeline hung there between them, connected by invisible threads. Apologize? The truth was…

For the third time that night, he cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm not sorry. If we don't make it out of this thing tomorrow…then at least I'll die a happy man."

And there it was. The truth. The stupid, dangerous truth. He was just as scared of those odds as she was. Something was unraveling between them and there was no putting it back together. Maybe it was the years of pent of frustration. The denial. Because oh, was there denial. The attraction. The jealousy. The want but can never have.

This was their only chance. There was nothing before and there would be nothing after. There was only the here and now and they both knew that. They could take what they wanted now and die happily tomorrow, or they could take what they wanted now and live tomorrow but never have it again.

She'd rather have it once than not have it ever.

Those odds weren't fair.

It hadn't been planned. The church. Roy. The kiss. The touches—none of it had been planned. It had happened out of the sheer fear of want and need.

Her resolve was dying. She lifted her head, her heart giving that funny jump all over again at the tenderness in his palm. "You're not going to die, Colonel. That's an order."

Roy's lips twitched. "Are you ordering your superior, Lieutenant?"

Riza nodded instantly. Wordlessly.

It was ironic. She was terrified of The Promised Day. Beneath the calm exterior of her expression, she was afraid. She may lose herself, but she wouldn't lose him.

It was even more ironic that beneath the hard features and the dark eyes that had caused fear in even a Homunculus, he was afraid. He may lose himself, but he wasn't going to lose her.

"You're forgetting your place, Lieutenant." Roy murmured. He always required a vocal response.

"Colonel." Riza chastised softly. "My place…is following where you lead."

"Anywhere?" His hand slid down from her cheek and over the side of her neck. Her shoulder.

"Anywhere." Even to hell. She agreed softly. Goosebumps followed the path of his hand down her arm until his fingers touched the back of her hand. His fingers entwined with hers until they were holding hands. It felt so intimate. So out of place. For them, it was. They hadn't held hands in nearly the entirety that she had known him. But the intimacy of it had her stomach clenching as he started down the darkened halfway, the hand that he was holding forcing her to follow him.

Her heart skipped a beat as she followed him silently.

Black Hayate followed, his nails clicking on the floor. Roy reached out and opened her bedroom door. He stepped over the threshold but turned around to face her, just inside the bedroom. She still stood right outside the door; the lifeline of their hands still entwined. The fingers of her other hand fisted nervously. He dropped her hand. And it was like the lifeline between them was cut and they were in two different worlds.

He stood in the archway of her bedroom door.

She stood in the hallway.

And then his hand was settling over her hip and tugging her forward. "Anywhere?" He questioned again.

Her breath seemed to freeze in her chest as her thighs came against his, her stomach against his abdomen, her breasts against his chest. She nodded. "Anywhere."

He took a step backward but kept her flush against him and she followed. The hand at her hip moved to span the small of her back as she followed. He walked backward and she followed those three small steps until she was aware of him lifting his other hand and grasping the side of the door. He paused. "Black Hayate, out." His voice was soft but firm, brooking no argument.

Black Hayate whined softly but he obeyed.

Roy closed the door and with it came a sense of finality.

They were alone in their own little world. None of their prior time alone together could have prepared her for the intimacy that had her gut clenching hotly. This was different. This was new and something else entirely. Her heart skipped a beat and then slowly began to pound in her ears as she lifted her hands and smoothed them up the warm fabric of his white shirt. His military jacket rubbed against the back of her hands as she went higher. Higher, higher up over his collarbone and then his shoulders, pushing the jacket back until it fell down his arms to puddle at their feet.

Such a thing was unlike her—clutter. The mess of a single piece of clothing that she normally would have folded over a chair. She didn't see it. She didn't notice. She didn't care. His hands lifted to her jacket, but she shook her head. He looked at her questioningly, but she didn't say anything. Her fingers were surprisingly calm when she slid the buttons through the holes. One. Two. Three. Four. The front of the jacket peeled back slightly, and she shouldered it down her arms and then folded it, silently placing it on the dresser to the right.

Roy took her waist in his hands. She was small. His fingers could almost span her from front to back and all the way around. He tugged her against him. "Are you going to shoot me, Lieutenant?" He questioned with a teasing tone.

In answer, Riza reached around and behind herself. She unbuttoned the single button that held her gun holstered and then pulled the steel weapon free from the leather holster. She placed the pistol on top of her folded jacket.

And then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she leaned up on her tiptoes and pulled his head down to hers. That was all the encouragement he needed—they needed, really—because his arms surrounded her again. Her lips opened beneath the pressure of his, followed by the glide of his tongue. That same warm taste. The heat. Smoke and flame. The Colonel. Roy.

His hands moved up and down her back as she started walking this time, guiding him backwards with every forward step of her own. The back of his knees hit the bed, and he sat down on the edge, his hands pulling her down with him. She placed one knee on the bed beside his hip and then the other followed until she was straddling him. But they never broke the kiss. All was silent except for the hum of the air conditioner and the sound of lips locking in and out of each other.

His hands moved from her back to her thighs, his fingers squeezing the muscles that straddled him so readily. She rose up higher over him until he was forced to tilt his head back to keep the kiss. His hands followed the change of position, sliding from the front of her thighs to the back and then slowly upward…his hands gripped her ass through the military pants, squeezing over and over.

Roy's tongue thrust deep, sliding over and around her own until her fingers were sliding into his hair and fisting in the dark strands, nearly pulling. He knew what he wanted—bare skin. His fingers left the tantalizing softness of her ass to smooth up her backside where he began tugging up her shirt once more. He had jerked the material up in the car; it didn't surprise him that she had somehow righted every bit of her clothing along the way. He had just bared the skin of her stomach when she broke the kiss.

"Mm mm." Riza murmured, her arms cutting off his hands. She shook her head before she crossed her arms over her stomach and hauled the shirt over her head herself. She didn't move from her position over him, but she placed the shirt on the nightstand beside the bed.

Roy's eyes immediately dropped to lace covered skin. He'd seen her in the car. Felt her. Tasted her. He just hadn't paid much attention outside of what he was doing to her. He hadn't really looked at her. Those damn uniforms hid a man's dream. White lace cupped full breasts. Full and heavy and begging for a man to touch, squeeze and suck. But his fingers trailed over smooth skin of her flat stomach instead. There was the hint of toned muscle. There were no scars to mar that beautiful skin as he touched and caressed.

Not until he reached her collarbone. He saw the puffy skin and the hint of redness that revolted against the smooth skin between her neck and shoulder. A scar. One he knew all too well. Envy. His thumb traced over the thickness.

What in the hell are you doing to my Lieutenant?

He leaned forward, his other hand spanning the lower part of her back as he kissed the scar. Her hands curled around his wrists and lifted his hands; she brought his hands to her breasts.

He was a man. He didn't have to be told twice.

His fingers curled around the slight weight. She fit into his palms perfectly. He squeezed—he could feel the beat of her heart against one palm. His thumb slid over one nipple.

Riza pressed her cheek against the top of his head as his hands squeezed. Her eyes slid close as his lips slid over the scar on her shoulder. His tongue followed, a slow caress against the puckered flesh. He left a hot trail along her shoulder and over the upper portion of her arm before his lips moved to the left, sliding over her collarbone. She knew what he was doing—the agonizing slow motion of his path of kisses that was taking him over her collarbone and over the slope of one breast.

She knew what was coming, even as one hand disappeared around her back to press against the middle of it, arching her back to press her body closer to his mouth… he was still holding her breast with one hand but he somehow managed to lift two fingers and draw her bra strap down until it hung loosely over her upper arm. His hand dipped slightly, just enough to hook those same two fingers into her bra cup and tug the lace down—just as his head dipped.

She let out a rough breath at the hot heat that surrounded her nipple. His tongue pressed her nipple against the roof of his mouth as he suckled at her like a baby. A hot shiver raced down her spine. Her fingers twisted in his hair, quick surprise flooding her as he suddenly switched to the other breast, sucking clear through the lace this time. He sucked hard until the lace grew damp, until she knew he could feel the outline of her nipple through the material. She shuddered. "Colonel…"

He bit down. Her fingers spasmed in his hair at the small bite; just hard enough to sting. His hand left her other breast to join the other at her back, his palms sliding up and down as he sucked and teased her nipple. The tips of his fingers touched the upraised skin along her left shoulder blade—

Riza pulled back, breaking the sweet suction of his mouth. In all of three seconds she gripped the hem of his white shirt and yanked it up over his head. His arms caught for a moment, but he knew what she was doing—he lifted his arms and white soared over his head. She did the same as she had with her shirt. She placed his white shirt on the nightstand on top of hers.

And then she took his hands in hers and pushed him backward until he was lying on the bed, and she was straddling him. But she never let go of his hands, she held them over his head with both of hers. She kissed him again. Far be it from him to deny her that. His fingers curled around hers, entwining them, squeezing—she squeezing back. This kiss was rougher than before, tongues thrusting, lips bruising and sucking. He could feel her breasts hanging tantalizingly against his chest from her position, one nipple was still bare and poking at his chest.

She was moving against him, her legs shifting back and forth. It took Roy a moment to realize that she was toeing off her work boots. He lifted one leg and applied pressure with one of his and kicked hers the rest of the way off before kicking his own boots off. They hit the floor with a loud thud. She released his hands to go to work between them. Her fingers worked at the fastening of his belt until it hung open on either side of his hips before she hooked her fingers in the waistband and began tugging it downward.

He lifted his hips as she shimmied downward, taking the blue pants with them and then yanking them over his ankles. The same as before, she placed them on the nightstand. She placed a knee on the mattress and started climbing back up over him. Roy moved swiftly, his arms circling her waist, pulling her upward along the bed while he rolled them over.

Riza's eyes nearly rolled in the back of her head as Roy suddenly kissed her. Opened mouth and so hard that she nearly choked. The warmth from his body was pure heat when the skin of his chest touched her near naked breasts. The feel of his body beneath his uniform was nothing compared to what she felt now. He was naked except for the blue boxers that he wore—there was no mistaking the hardness that pressed against her bare stomach with a searing heat.

His reputation preceded him, alright. He rolled his hips against her, grinding that hardness against the softness of her stomach before he shifted downward just a little, just enough. His hips moved again and then she felt him grinding right between her thighs. It didn't matter that she was still wearing her pants—she could feel him clear through. Hot, hard and thick.

She lifted her legs, hugging her thighs over his hips to drag him harder against her.

His tongue thrust in time with the grinding of his hips, in and out, in and out, up and down, back and forth. Riza moaned against his lips and then dropped her hands to grip his ass and haul his hips against her hard.

"Yes ma'am." Roy muttered against her lips and Riza almost smiled at the notary. One of the hands beneath her dipped beneath the material of her pants and underwear to grip a bare ass cheek. He squeezed the bare flesh and then hauled her hips upward in much the same fashion as she had pulled his hips against hers.

Lord have mercy, that grinding motion was right where she needed it.

Both of his hands found their way beneath her hips, both hands somehow maneuvering to grip her ass cheeks in a repetitive motion. She could feel his hands bunching in the material at the back of her hips, tugging it down, even though the position was awkward with his hips between her thighs. She braced her hands against his chest and pushed, breaking the rough kiss. She pushed even more until his chest left hers, until he had no choice but to lift himself to brace himself on his arms above her.

"What—" Roy started.

"I can do it." Riza breathed out at the same time, her hands taking place where his hands had been. She was still beneath him, so the position was awkward, but she hooked her thumbs on the waistband of her military pants and lifted her hips as she pushed them down to her thighs. Her legs did the rest, stretching, kicking softly until she felt them gather at her ankles. She couldn't reach the nightstand, so she left them where they were at the foot of the bed. It left her nearly as naked as he. Bra and underwear to his boxers.

But Roy just stared down at her, his arms stretched, hands braced on the mattress on either side of her shoulders. What…

He sank down against her slowly—almost cautiously. But instead of kissing her he merely braced his forearms on either side of her. He let her take the weight of his body, felt the way she parted her thighs to receive him, but he didn't do anything other than brush the hair back from her face. "What's wrong?"

What? Riza stared up at the dark eyes that were suddenly boring into her. "Nothing's wrong, Colonel." Her tongue slid over her lips. She could feel him between her thighs. A throbbing heat that pressed so close to the heart of her. She knew her underwear was damp; she knew he could feel it through his boxers.

Roy's eyebrows lowered. "Roy."

"What?"

"My name, Riza."

Her throat worked as she realized what he wanted. "Colonel, I don't think…" His rank title came so easily to her. It was engraved in her just as much as breathing was. It wasn't that she thought calling him by his God given name was inappropriate. That didn't even cross her mind. Hell, they were in bed together—the thought of calling him by his name wasn't inappropriate at all. But she had to think. She had to move. Every move was strategic. Every breath, every touch, everything she wanted to do with him—

"Roy…" The name was almost foreign on her tongue. Strange.

But right.

"Stop." He suddenly pressed his forehead against hers. His lips teased her own with every word that he said. "Stop thinking." Roy knew what it was now. A loss of control in her otherwise composed and authoritative world. Riza never did anything without a calm composure. Every move was calculated and thought out. She was a sniper. Every kill was planned—she chose. She controlled.

He hadn't noticed it before. Not until they were in the bedroom. She wouldn't let him touch her. He may have been the one to initiate that first kiss, but she was the one who had maneuvered his touches. She'd been the one to climb over to the driver's side. But it was like every time he tried to touch her…she guided his hands. Every time he tried to undress her, she stopped him, only to do it herself. She would always pause, just long enough, to discard the clothing neatly instead of just leaving it where it fell.

Control.

Vulnerability.

He kissed her softly again and then rolled them over so that she was on top of him. "What do you want, Riza?"

Riza drew in a shaking breath as she sat up slowly, her mind reeling from the sudden stop. But it wasn't so much as a stop as it was him slowing things down. Her breasts followed her uneven breath, lifting against the lace before falling again. His eyes followed and she swore his hands almost lifted to touch them again before he suddenly laced his fingers together behind his head.

Why? She wanted him to touch her.

What did she want, though? She wanted to touch him. Her tongue slid over her lips. "You."

He didn't say anything. He didn't reach out to touch her. He just simply stared up at her like a man with all the patience in the world.

She had seen a bare-chested Roy Mustang many times. They'd fought in the same war—she had seen him bandaged and stitched and washed. They were military personnel; she had seen him shirtless on more than one occasion due to his own stupidity. But this was different. Her eyes moved over the hard muscles of his chest. There were scars there. A bullet wound. Thin white lines that presented wounds from so long ago.

Her fingers hovered inches above his abdomen. Roy Mustang had a body that women would drool over. Her fingers trembled before she was trailing them over the hard play of muscle that seemed to move beneath her hand when he breathed. Her fingers dipped in the hard groves of his abdomen and every rock hard ab that seemed to shudder beneath her fingertips.

But what drew her attention was the rough patch of skin along his right side. It covered nearly the entire lower part of his right side from front to back.

That bitch.

She remembered very clearly how he had gotten that scar; he'd done it to himself to ensure that he didn't bleed out.

Lust.

She stopped an inch from touching the rough skin. It had healed. But he would be just as scared as she was. It was rough to touch, almost like an uneven and ridged layer of skin. Her fingers trailed over it, tracing the bumpy lines until her fingers met smooth skin. Her thumb slid over a hipbone.

The hardness pressing up against her hadn't abated at all.

She looked down, her eyes moving over where she straddled him. She could just make out what she knew was the tip of his cock pressing against the blue cotton.

She wanted to touch him.

She slid back, not far, just enough to where she could slide the tips of her fingers over the hard length. He was burning hot beneath the boxers.

For her.

She was slow, her hand sliding over him, exploring through the cotton before her palm finally moved upward. And then back down, her fingers and palm sliding beneath the material. The tip of his cock met her fingertips, and her fingers glided against the wetness staining the tip. She shifted and sat up a little straighter so that the waistband folded back over her wrist and then his cock and her hand were open to the sudden stifling bedroom air.

She closed her hand around him.

She squeezed.

She could barely close her fingers around him and she swore she could feel him throbbing against her palm. Thick, hard and so very hot. She moved her hand up and down slowly, watching as more wetness gathered at the tip. Her thumb smeared it around the top.

What did she want? Him.

He'd closed his eyes at one point. When she started touching him, he simply couldn't hold them open any longer. It took everything he had to not roll them over and throw her legs over his shoulders and pound away. She wouldn't have stopped him.

His lids slit open when he felt her thighs over his again—and then the hot wetness of her body pressing down against him. He tensed, the muscles in his arms growing taunt. His fingers tightened in his own hair when he felt her body begin to slide over his—take his. Inch by agonizing slow inch. She hadn't taken off his boxers or even her underwear. She'd simply tugged her own to the side and positioned herself…

She was so fucking wet. And he fucking loved it. Roy grimaced, clenching his teeth so hard that he swore something popped. A muscle in his jaw ticked at the brutal intensity bearing down and clenching around him like the tightest of fists. A tightness that he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. His eyes snapped open.

Impossible.

She was tense where she straddled him, one hand braced against his lower stomach, the other in the sheets beneath them. He could see the discomfort on her face as she paused again, the tip of his cock buried inside her. And then she continued, her hips applying pressure until another inch speared inside her…he didn't miss the grimace that twisted her lips.

Nor the one that twisted his own at the insane heat and pleasure that came from the tightness of those few inches. "Riza. Stop." His words came out harsher than intended.

Stop? He sat up slowly and she winced as the action shifted his hips beneath her. To say it was uncomfortable was putting it mildly. It hurt. She'd expected pain, just not this pain. It was… the more she pushed, the more excruciatingly wider the pain got. Stop? She lifted her head. "No."

Roy cursed beneath his breath and cupped the back of one of her thighs. She was a fucking virgin. How was she still a virgin?

Her brows twisted when the hand beneath her thigh tightened, and he began to lift her off. She shook her head and curled her fingers around his wrist and pushed right back down until those few inches were back inside her again. A little further.

Roy's lips thinned as he stared at her.

Riza cried out as the hand at her hip suddenly pushed her down hard. She wasn't even aware that her hands had lifted until she realized she was gripping his forearms. It was like something gave inside her, popped, and then she felt him so deep inside her that she swore she could feel him throbbing from the inside out. The pain pierced through her, hot and heavy and very, very uncomfortable. Her expression twisted.

Roy knew that she was in pain—it was in the way her body suddenly tensed against him and around him. It was there in the way her facial expression contorted. He hated himself for it. He honestly didn't know if his intention had been to stop or continue when the realization had hit him—she was a virgin. She sure as hell hadn't wanted to stop. It did something to him when she told him no—when she pushed her hips right back down against him, no matter that he was hurting her.

He was angry that she did that. He didn't know why he did it—he just did it.

And by God, if she was in pain, he was in fucking heaven at the feel of her body surrounding his. Tight. Hot. Wet.

He squeezed her hip. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wouldn't have mattered."

"The hell it wouldn't have." Roy forced his tone to soften and lifted one hand to thumb her face up to his. "We could have done things a hell of a lot different." He wouldn't have touched her in the car if he had known. He would have gone slower, made things so much easier and less painful for her.

But that explained a lot, didn't it? Some of it.

He gave her a soft "hold on" as he rolled them slowly until she was on her back, and he was above her. No, no, no. She could feel him even more in this position. It was different than before with him inside her. His weight bore down between her thighs heavily, keeping them spread and she swore she could feel him twice as deep. She didn't like it. At all. He wasn't uncomfortable; she didn't mind his weight. She could hold him all night long. It was the pain that shattered any illusion.

Some women simply didn't like sex. She knew that. Rebecca liked it. Her friend had shared more than enough stories for Riza to be sure of that. But maybe…she just wasn't one of those women. She liked the before. The after not so much.

Her eyes jumped to his face when she felt him drag from her body. She tensed from the slow pain of withdrawal. "Roy…" She said softly. "You don't have to stop." Just because she didn't enjoy it didn't mean that he couldn't. She wasn't naïve. She knew he could get off regardless of what she felt or not. A few thrusts and he'd be good to go. She could handle a few thrusts.

"I do." Roy said, cursing himself for the fool he was. What sane man would stop?

He must be insane. He'd hurt her again. This was something precious between, something that only the two of them would ever know because of the odds of anything more were simply…

Not.

It was something precious and he had hurt her. He could have done things so differently, in such a way that her pain would have been minimal. There was no way that she was going to enjoy herself after that.

Her heart clenched when Roy stood. He grabbed her hand and then pulled her off the bed with him. "Colonel…" He didn't have to stop. He didn't! He didn't answer her, just pulled her to the small, conjoined bathroom and then flipped up the light switch. "Roy." He still didn't answer her, just pushed open the shower stall and then leaned inside. He only released her to turn both knobs until an even flow of both hot and cold water started pouring from the overhead shower fixture. A little more to the left until the steam began to rise from the water.

He started to turn her around to unclip her bra but she tensed. He dropped his hands.

Not yet.

He had the vague sensation why when she reached behind her and undid the clasp herself and then pulled the straps down her arms. His eyes dropped on her breasts. He'd left a mark there. And on her neck. His eyes followed her movements as she hung the bra up over the door handle and then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear—

Steam rose from the open shower stall, and he pushed his boxers down. He stepped inside first. He knew she wasn't going to go in before him. She wasn't going to turn her back to him. When she followed him and closed the door, it was like they were in a whole different world again. Just the two of them.

The water beat down over their heads and Roy shifted them so that he took the brunt of it against his upper back. She wasn't shy and at least Roy was glad of that. It wouldn't have mattered, though. She was beautiful. The curve of her body, the rise and fall of her chest, her slender waist, her long shapely legs. Between her thighs.

Riza knew what he was doing, but she didn't know what he was doing. He was still hard. Why didn't he just finish what they had started?

She brushed her wet hair from her face as her eyes moved over him. She'd only seen him beneath the dim light of the bedroom. But now she could see him clearly. There were more scars than she'd thought beforehand. But what her eyes zeroed in on was the cock jutting from between his thighs. Why didn't he finish it? He was still hard. His cock rose up thick and long, the tip pressing against his lower abdomen. She may have been a virgin, but she wasn't innocent. She'd fooled around before. She'd touched. She'd gone on dates. The truth was, she simply didn't have time in the military for personal relationships. Nor the interest.

Everything she was, had always been dedicated to the man before her.

She reached out. His fingers locked around her wrist when her fingertips were an inch from touching the tip. She lifted her head. "Roy…"

He shook his head as he drew her hand away until she had no choice but to drop it. Her eyes dropped to the blue loofa that was in his opposite hand. She watched as he drizzled a long line of bodywash. Her heart leapt in her throat when he pressed the loofa against her shoulder and rubbed in a circle until a thick lather appeared. He pressed it downward along her arm, washing along the crease in her elbow and over her palm. His fingers speared in between hers, rubbing the soapy suds in her skin until the loofa made its way to the back of her hand and then back up her arm.

It was strangely intimate. She opened her mouth to stop him, but she couldn't form the words when he passed the loofa over her throat and then down her collarbone. There was nothing sexual in the way he washed her breasts, the loofa leaving behind a thick lather in its wake. He repeated the effort over her other hand and between her fingers until he was repeating that path up her arm and to that shoulder as well. She didn't say anything as he washed under her arms and around the back of her neck. He slid the loofa over her shoulder from behind her neck and then back down over her breasts and in between. He washed over her ribcage and down her stomach. He sank to his knees. He took special care between her thighs, motioning for her to spread her legs. He was quick, but tender in his administration of that area. He kissed the lower part of her stomach.

She was sore and he knew it.

There was nothing sexual in what he was doing. It was sweet. It was caring. Why did it feel so intimate?

He lathered up one thigh in silence, slowing moving downward over her knee and then to her calf. His palm cupped her heel and lifted her foot as he washed around and beneath. She had to brace a hand against his shoulder as he moved to the other foot. He did the same to her other ankle and thigh.

He was still on his knees when he grasped her hips. "Turn around." He murmured.

Riza didn't fight the gentle pressure as he turned her to face the wall. He repeated those actions against the backs of her legs. He held one thigh as he washed the other. His thumb was sliding back and forth against the back of her thigh, just touching beneath the curve of one ass cheek. He paused when he reached there.

He pressed a kiss against first one cheek and then the other. She drew in a shuddering breath. He washed over her backside. One hand cupped her left hip while the other leisurely washed the lower right side of her back. He stood slowly. His empty hand slid fingers up the path of her spine.

She lifted her head, inhaling shakily. "Roy—"

"No." He said softly when she would have turned around. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, and he felt the way she tensed. He knew why. "Let me."

She'd never turned her back on him. Not when she undressed herself. Not in the bedroom. Not in bed. She never let him touch her back, not even in the car. No teasing grace of fingers, no accidental touches. She hadn't turned her back on him when they had undressed in here and she had made sure he went in the shower first.

His eyes traced over the Alchemic Flame tattoo that covered nearly every inch of her back. He'd seen it before. He'd seen it when it was whole, and he'd seen it with her flesh freshly burned. He'd always known she'd carried the flame array; it was their own deadly sin and secret. What was she afraid he would see? The scars that had grown over the once smooth skin?

He'd done this to her. She could never hide this from him.

Riza couldn't suppress the shiver that raced down her spine when he gathered her wet hair in his long fingers and slowly drew it to the side over one shoulder. He was slowly washing from one side of her back to the other, up and down over her spine. He took tender care over the scars that puckered the otherwise perfect skin and array of tattoo. Her eyes slid closed, and her lips trembled when she felt him place a kiss against her left shoulder blade. Right over the largest scar. The fingers of his other hand were tracing every inch of scar and detailed array. She swore he was.

Both of his palms slid over her shoulders and down her arms and then back up again. It took her a moment to realize that he was no longer holding the shower sponge. He kissed the back of her neck before his hands went down her arms again. He held her hands for a brief second before his opened wide to slide over her stomach. They moved upward as he kissed to the side of her neck from behind. He pressed a soft kiss against the curve between shoulder and neck. His hands went higher until both palms were cupping the heavy weight of her breasts.

She inhaled unevenly.

He squeezed delicately. Her nipples were hard little points that stabbed into his palms. She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she touched his arms. She could feel him against her backside—he was still hard. The steaming water was just an added sensation that soaked them from head to toe. Her nipple poked through the fingers of one hand, and he closed his longer fingers around it, locking it between two digits. His grip tightened and he pressed his palm against her harder until he was rhythmically squeezing and groping in tender motions.

Her stomach flipped when he released one breast and smoothed his palm over her stomach. Slow. Tracing the downward path over her ribcage. His fingers spread wide until he was spanning the width of her stomach. He pushed against her stomach, tilting her hips back against him as his hand slid into the vee of her thighs. Her hand shook as she lifted it to brace against the opposite wall; his fingers slid into a wetness that had nothing to do with the water pouring over them. She was locked in his arms, a suddenly very intimate embrace. One arm around her breasts as he groped the one on the right, his other arm stretching down over her stomach as his hand disappeared between her thighs.

Now that…she hadn't expected.

This was what he should have done from the start. Touch her. Tease her. Make sure she was ready. He just hadn't thought… He carefully slid his fingers through the wetness between her thighs. There you are. Her pain from before hadn't dimmed her desire. She wanted him still, wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He tested the warmth that coated his fingertips and then cautiously slid one finger inside her.

Her fingers flexed and her nails dug into his arm when she felt the long, slow glide. She was incredibly tender, even to the touch of his finger. That alone felt impossible big and…and foreign. Nothing like her own slender fingers. She didn't not like it. It was just different. Her thighs clenched around his wrist when his hand moved, his finger rubbing against her insides. Just enough movement to pull his palm back, his finger sliding out…he slid it back in.

Her hand closed into a fist against the wall.

Nothing like her own fingers at all.

She hung her head when he did it again. A slow movement of his finger, curling it against her inside, withdrawing…a slow thrust inward. Her gut clenched hotly when Roy very slowly added a second finger to the first. His palm pressed flat against her when he pressed his middle and index finger deep inside her. Slow. Easy. He held them there, pressing his other palm flat against her breast as he did so.

He moved them just as slowly as he had before, taking care of the tenderness that had pierced her before. There was no escaping that tenderness, but it didn't hurt like the feel of his body penetrating hers. Riza could feel her eyes sliding closed all over again when he shifted his fingers inside her. His palm dragged against her skin when he withdrew his fingers…he thrust them back in slowly. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Colonel…" She couldn't stop the slip of his name as that same heat from before twisted in the pit of her stomach.

His hand left her breast, sliding upward over her collarbone and in between her breasts. He fingers curled around her throat, his palm pressing against her jugular in that position. He forced her head up and back until the back of her head fell against his collarbone. "Roy." He correctly in a low tone as he cautiously forced a third finger in with the next glide of his fingers. She was still unbearable tight around three fingers. She'd been even tighter around his cock. He could feel how her body sucked at his fingers every time he pushed. He could feel how her body clung, almost pulling inside out whenever he withdrew.

God damn her for being a virgin.

But damn if that knowledge didn't feel him with pride. Her first. And possibly her last.

"Roy." He murmured again, cautiously testing the stretch of four fingers. He felt the slight recoil of her hips; three then.

He was bigger than three fingers.

But three it was. Three would have to do.

"Roy." He said again, his fingers tightening a fraction of an inch around her throat in a soft warning of what he commanded of her.

His hand had settled into a slow rhythm between her thighs, his fingers sliding in and out easily with the slick arousal that coated his fingers. It was still tight, still a terribly stretched sensation that thrust in time with his fingers. It didn't hurt. The tenderness was still there, but… Her lips trembled. Her fingers tightened around the wrist that was pumping slowly. "Roy." She whispered finally, her words far too breathless.

She wasn't even aware of the way her fingers spread over the back of his hand, the way her palm pressed. She wasn't aware of the way she pressed his hand against her, the way she was guiding his fingers in and out.

"There we go." Roy whispered against the side of her upturned neck. She was guiding his hand, she was pushing his fingers in and out, guiding them with the pressure of their hands. She was riding his fingers with the slow rocking movements of her hips.

All of the heat from before was coming back, centered between her thighs. It was hot and tingling. It had her body clenching around his fingers. She knew how to get herself off. She knew what she liked. But this was something else entirely. His fingers were bigger. They were rougher. They stretched her in ways that her fingers couldn't. They moved in ways that she didn't even know that she liked. Still slow. Still teasing. Still easy. "R-Roy…" She moved against his hand and his hips followed until the hard length of his cock was pressing against the small of her back.

Trapped between a rock and a hard place.

"That's it. Ride my hand." He whispered the words against the smooth skin of her neck. Her hips moved against his hand willingly and he forced the fourth finger. He felt the shudder she gave, the way her body angled away, but he pushed her hips back against him with the slow steady pressure of his hand between her thighs. "That's it." He whispered again. Keep on riding my hand. I want to feel you coming apart against my fingertips.

Her hips canted back against his stomach. She was hot. Even with the warm water raining down on them she was hot. It was building in her slowly. It had her squirming against his hand, trying to get away while at the same time moving her hips back against him.

"Uh uh." Roy breathed the notion against her ear, as if he knew she'd tried to pull away from his pumping fingers for just a split second. He thrust his fingers in with a little more pressure—a little more force. Still slow, but harder. She rewarded him with a trembling gasp. "Come on, Lieutenant." He whispered then.

Her hand slid along the slick wall. She probably would have fallen if Roy hadn't been holding her in his arms. His fingers were pumping more steadily now. They weren't so slow now. There was a twinge of tenderness. But fuck if the heat didn't override that twinge. She swore she was seeing stars behind her closed eyelids. A hot little shiver raced down her spine at his words.

Come on, Lieutenant.

There was a double meaning there.

She groaned and lifted her hand from the wall and bit the back of her own hand to stifle the moan that rose up.

Roy heard it regardless. He thrust his fingers in with more force, not fast, not rough, just a hard shove, and then held his palm against her. She nearly went up on her tiptoes from the movement. Her hips rocked as a shudder wracked her body.

It took her a moment to realize that the water was no longer running. He'd turned it off at one point. There was nothing but the sound of her ragged breaths. He released her neck and then braced that hand at the small of her back. He pushed until she had no choice but to tilt forward. His hand disappeared fully between her thighs, his palm flush against her—cupping her. Her hands shot up to brace against the wall from the position.

He thrust his fingers inside again—hard and rough. He held there while his thumb moved up higher. A rough sound vibrated in her throat. Oh God.

"That's an order, Riza." Roy whispered against her shoulder. He angled his hand against her stomach and then jerked her hips backward against stomach, forcing her onto the angle of all four fingers. He almost didn't hear the trembling cry that she bit off. But oh, did he feel her. She was rippling around his fingers, her body clenching his fingers rhythmically in the very same way that he wanted her rippling around him. Her hips were riding back and forth between his hand and his stomach as she came apart in his arms.

Riza shuddered as Roy dragged his fingers from between her thighs. Oh my God. She knew her experience was limited; but not even orgasms by her own hand left her shaken like this. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her thighs were visibly shaking. Or maybe it was different when a man did it. Her experience with men were few and far in between.

Or maybe it was just Roy.

She let him help her out of the shower, surprised to see that he'd draped a towel over the toilet. He guided her to sit on the towel and then he sank to his hunches before her. He began toweling her feet dry, her ankles. Her calves. Her thighs.

She'd always been the one to serve Roy. She was his subordinate. Anything he needed done; she took care of it for him. Coffee, making the arrangements on missions, ordering food, late reminders, late paperwork. She took care of it.

He was taking care of her.

Roy looked up from drying her thighs when her fingers suddenly locked around his wrists.

"I can do it, sir." Riza said softly.

He didn't correct the way she spoke his rank. He simply shook his head. "Let me." He said again.

Why it bothered her, she didn't know. Considering what they had just done, drying her off shouldn't even cross her mind. But she sat there in silence as he moved the towel up over her ribcage and dried beneath her breasts and in between. She could feel the heat slowly forming in her cheeks at the sweet care he took to her fingers.

He towel dried her hair and her throat worked against the emotion rising up. What was wrong with this man? She was supposed to serve him. She stared at the back of his head as he pressed a kiss to first one knee and then the other. She lifted a shaking hand and touched his hair when he lifted her knee and pressed soft kisses along her inner thigh. She ran her fingers through the dark strands as he kissed the crease between leg and hip.

And then he stood.

Her heart leapt in her throat when Roy lifted her into his arms. "Roy." Riza pleaded. She could walk. The bed was right there. The hard side of her that had served beneath him for years hated how he was suddenly catering to her. What was he doing? Why? She didn't need this softness. But the feminine side of her thrilled at gentleness in which he laid her on the bed.

Riza grew still when Roy picked up her leg and kissed the arch of one foot. His palm held her calf from underneath, a gentle kiss against her heel. She watched as he pressed another kiss over the top of her foot and then her ankle. His hand gave a leisurely slide up and down her leg before he gripped her ankle. She inhaled shakily as he trailed soft kisses up the inside of her leg. He kissed the side of one knee and then the underside. Her arms shook from where she held herself up on the bed—just staring at the man spreading kisses up her legs.

He didn't have to do this. It wasn't fair. She wasn't sure why he was doing it, but she knew why he had stopped. She knew why he wasn't going to continue. He'd hurt her. But he'd made up for it in the shower. He'd made sure that she felt pleasure. Was he angry that she hadn't told him? She understood why he wouldn't continue with…that… but…

It wasn't fair.

She could see his how hard he was still—it hung there towards the bed as he moved higher up her thighs. She wanted to please him, dammit. It was only fair. It was only right. His shoulders spread her thighs, and he turned his head, pressing another kiss along the inside of her right thigh. Dangerously high. Dangerously close.

"Roy…" Her left hand slid through his hair in a soft caress. "…you don't…" She pushed at his shoulders gently. He didn't have to do anything else. But she did. She moved her arm beneath his body from where he was crouched over her lower body. Her fingers curled around the thick length.

Roy moved lightning fast, his hips pulling back until her hand was empty. He grabbed her hips and yanked her lower body towards him and buried his face between her thighs.

"…you don't…"

But he fucking did.

Riza fell back with a loud gasp, her head on the feather pillows. A shudder raced down her spine. She grabbed his head out of instinctive reaction. Her fingers tangled in his hair. "Roy." She whispered his name, her inner thighs jerking at the way his mouth moved between her thighs. His hands held her thighs in a bruising grip as his tongue thrust. He didn't just thrust, he feasted. A sob tore from her throat and her back arched on the bed. It was a rough onslaught and instant. Where his fingers had ushered her into a slow, gentle ride, his lips and tongue forced her right into the flames, complete opposites.

She wasn't sure if she was pushing him away or pulling him closer. It left her heady and delirious with a burning need. She lifted her hips; or maybe that was him pulling her hips up off the bed. Who knew? She pulled roughly at his hair. It had to hurt, but she didn't care. She wasn't thinking clearly. She couldn't think past the sweet burn that was building between her thighs with the thrust of his tongue and pressure of his lips.

Her hips jerked when he closed his lips around the sensitive flesh near the top. He sucked hard and she nearly screamed as the agonizing pressure suddenly exploded from the inside out. She was barely aware of his lips leaving her thighs, of his body crawling over hers. He parted her thighs and settled heavily between and THRUST right through her orgasm.

She screamed.

Roy clamped his hand over her mouth before no more than a breath could escape. He clenched his eyes shut at the feel of her body rippling around his in releasing. Squeezing. Pulsing. Releasing. Pulling him deeper inside. She was still almost painfully tight, but her body accepted his in one smooth thrust this time. He couldn't stop the groan that rumbled in his chest. He was in pure bliss.

That's what he wanted. What he'd been waiting for. He'd had no intention of stopping; just a temporary stall to get her where he needed her to be. Because he'd be damned if they didn't have this night for themselves.

The odds of making it out alive tomorrow…

Riza turned her head to the side and his hand fell from her mouth. She could feel him buried so deep inside her. Hard and throbbing. There was a brief discomfort, but it was nothing compared to the pain of before. Her body was still rippling with aftershocks, tugging at the part of him that filled her. It felt completely different compared to coming around an aching emptiness.

Her eyes locked with his. He was braced above her on his arms. She lifted her hands and pulled his head down to hers. He slowly dragged his hips back as his lips touched hers. He paused with just the tip inside her. And then he thrust back inside.

Riza felt that long drag. She felt every inch that slowly pulled out of her. She expected pain when he thrust back in, but none came. Nothing but the slow thrust and drag of his body moving inside hers. Her arms trembled as she wrapped them around his shoulders and then turned her head, burying her face in his neck. He smelled fresh and clean from the shower, but she could still smell the scent that made him unmistakably Roy. He mimicked her somewhat, his face against the side of hers. She could hear every breath he took, feel the warm breaths against her shoulder. His arms caged her in on either side of her head as he moved with a steady tempo, his hips thrusting and withdrawing.

She felt like his own personal piece of heaven with the way her body wrapped around his from the inside out. He clenched his teeth every time he withdrew before thrusting back inside. Tight. Hot. Wet. She was burning him alive, and she didn't even know it. Thrust and withdrawal. A slow drag and a forward glide. He wasn't going to last long; he knew that. Especially when her hips rocked up against him.

He'd waited too long, just to ensure that she felt good.

"Do it again for me." He whispered against her ear as his hips took on a faster tempo, grinding against her with every thrust. He could feel it in his gut, the way his thigh muscles began to quiver. He braced himself above her, just enough to look down at her, pressing his forehead against her own. A shudder raced down his spine.

Her lids lifted at his words and her eyes met his. Every thrust hit high inside her, hilting deep inside her. She wouldn't have thought that she was capable, but desire was burning again. It was flushing her skin and melting between her thighs. It was different now that he was inside her. In and out, in and out. She could feel it building between her thighs and she didn't even try to fight it this time. Her arms circled his shoulders again and she buried her face against his neck as the third orgasm moved through her, clenching around the thickness that was beginning to spasm inside her.

Roy groaned at the first ripple of release around him. That was all it took. Just the feel of HER coming apart in his arms and around him. He hilted inside her once more as his own release boiled up through his cock in a white-hot spasm inside her. She milked him with every little ripple her body gave, sucking him dry it felt like until he sank against her with another shuddering groan.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, buried deep inside her body. He could feel the thin layer of sweat between their bodies. He finally lifted his head and touched her hair. He could just make out the flush against her skin. The look of a women post orgasm. The look of a woman very well satisfied.

His queen.

Checkmate.

"Don't die on me tomorrow." Roy said after a moment, his tone low—almost tender. He didn't know why he said the words. There was no logical reason. They were only here because they both knew the chances of survival…

Even if they survived, he knew they could never speak on this. No stolen kisses. No hidden touches. No nothing. They would have to act as if this night had never existed.

Even if they survived…

He suddenly had a powerful determination to survive. For himself. For her. There had been doubt before. But he could feel that sudden determination squeezing his heart like a vise.

"I won't." Riza responded immediately, her voice soft. She felt his hips recoil and then his body was slipping from hers. She expected him to get out of bed and dress, but he simply rolled to his back and then pulled her against his side.

She didn't fight it.

She sank against him with contentment and laid her cheek against his chest. His fingers trailed up and down her back lazily before he was combing them through the back of her hair. He hugged her briefly. She closed her eyes and relished in the moment. She had to, because she knew he would have to leave well before dawn. He couldn't be seen leaving her dorm so late in the night or so early. But for right now, they had each other. She let the exhaustion take her and slept.

---

Awareness shifted and Riza opened her eyes. Familiar darkness met her eyes. It was still night. A glance at the bedside clock read 2:33AM. Only a few hours had passed. She wasn't sure what had awoken her. Roy was still half beneath her, his chest rising and falling in even breathes beneath her cheek. He was asleep.

The hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end and she lifted her head and looked over her shoulder.

Even through the darkness she could see the slither of shadows across the room. She could see the pale boy that hung from them. "How sweet." The smooth childlike voice murmured so quietly. A soft laugh.

Selim Bradly.

So innocent.

So Pride.

There was no threat in his words or tone. He was mocking her. She had been afraid of the boy weeks ago. But there was nothing more he could do to her. The Promised Day had come. Pride was only here because he knew. He wanted to mock her with the knowledge that she would never experience a night like this again. He succeeded in a way.

Riza turned her back on Pride and let her cheek fall back against Roy's chest as the little boy melted back into the shadows. It wasn't until they were alone again that she closed her eyes and let sleep claim her again. When next she woke, Roy's side of the bed was empty.

But on his pillow was a chess piece.

She sat up and picked up the tiny intricate piece. Roy had given her...The King. She was well aware of his infinity for the game and his relation of the game with his subordinates.

The king in her hand. Roy Mustang.

Jean Havoc. The Knight.

Vato Falman. The Bishop.

Heymans Breda. The Rook.

Kain Fuery. The Pawn.

And the Queen…

She closed her fingers around the chess piece. Pride's mocking words were a haunting reminder. But those words didn't matter; she'd been ordered not to die. She would obey those orders and protect her King.

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