Chapter Text
"Fuck, Riza."
Roy buries his face against the nape of her neck, balancing his weight on one hand. The other is wrapped around her hips, angling her body up as he fucks her with sharp, deep thrusts.
"Roy," she whispers back, gripping the sheets tight as she wriggles on her stomach, trying to keep her hips up for him so he can take his pleasure how he wants. Roy groans again and bites down lightly on the back of her neck as he comes, flooding her with warmth.
He releases her hips, letting her slump into the mattress while he lightly licks and kisses the fresh bite mark, hips still grinding against her ass weakly. Finally, he rolls to his side, panting. Riza buries her face in her arms.
"C'mere."
She squeaks as she finds herself pulled backwards. Roy slides one arm between her neck and the mattress and drapes the other over her waist, hugging her tight.
"I love you," he growls, nipping lightly at the shell of her ear and making her shiver. "My turn now," he adds, sliding his palm down her belly and between her thighs.
"It was your turn…earlier," Riza gasps as he cups her mound. She can feel the vibration of his chest against her back when he chuckles lowly.
"Who says I can't take another turn?" She closes her eyes and widens her legs for him as Roy slides two fingers inside her, pumping them almost lazily through the sticky mess he left behind.
"Roy," she whines as his thumb finds her clit and grinds gently.
"I've got you, baby," he murmurs, nuzzling against her neck. His other hand cups her breast, squeezing her just right.
He doesn't race her to climax but slowly coaxes her there, whispering sweet praises to her all the time. Even though he made her come before, even though he's already lost himself inside her, he spends a long time lavishing her with unhurried affection, and Riza melts back against him, whimpering.
"That's it, sweetheart. Let me hear how good it feels."
"I'm close," she whispers. Roy curls his fingers just right inside her. His thumb slips over her clit. His other hand squeezes and caresses her breasts in turn. His lips worry at the back of her neck, where she'll surely bruise, but the spot will be covered by her hair, at least.
"Say my name when you come for me," Roy demands.
She can barely choke out the syllable as she arches her back, her whole body drawing tight before the wave breaks over her. She spasms around his fingers, writhing, trapped between the heat of his body and the movements of his hands.
Finally, she goes limp, panting hard as Roy slowly pulls his hand from her center, considerately wiping his fingers on the sheets before he clutches her tight, holding her against his chest.
"I love you," she whispers into the darkness, and he murmurs his agreement, kissing her shoulder. He holds her in silence for several minutes, but instead of relaxing into the bliss, Riza grows tense. She worries at her bottom lip, waiting. She feels like an idiot when tears gather in her eyes, and she fights them back.
Don't be stupid. Don't be weak. Don't be pathetic. Don't be greedy. Don't be clingy. Don't. Don't. Don't.
The tension builds and builds at the back of her throat, burning like acid, until finally, she can't contain it, and the words burst out of her in a hoarse sob.
"P-please stay a little longer. D-don't g-go yet."
A single tear escapes, splashing down her cheek and onto the mattress, and Riza stares down at the dark little dot of wet it leaves behind, shame and hope warring inside her as she awaits his response.
Roy pulls at her, and she resists at first when she realizes he's trying to turn her over to face him, trying to make sure that the tears are gone.
"Hey, come here." His voice is gentle but laced with concern, and he doesn't give her much choice but to obey the pressure of his hands until they come face to face. Roy smiles and smooths her hair out of her face. "I'm not going anywhere," he says softly. "I'll stay all night if you'll let me."
Fresh tears bloom unbidden as she searches his dark eyes for any sign that he doesn't mean it, that he doesn't want to be here. She finds only calm in that obsidian gaze, and she lets herself sink into it, snuggling against him with her head tucked underneath his chin. Roy holds her tight and slowly rubs her back. A few minutes pass, and he kicks the blanket up from the bottom of the bed, draping it over them both.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he rumbles, kissing the top of her head. Riza lets loose a shaky sigh and finds the courage to whisper back to him.
"Goodnight, my love."
"Could you…couldn't you stay for just a little while?" Riza asked in a small voice, wrapping her arms around her knees. He flashed her a cheeky grin that showed off the dimple in his cheek.
"Insatiable little slut," he muttered, ruffling her hair as he pulled on his boxers. "No, I've got to get home. I've got early meetings. You're fine. You had a good time, right?"
"Of course I did."
"Then quit whining," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll call you in a few days."
"Okay," she whispered. He bent and kissed her forehead, then left her, shivering and alone in her bed, refusing to let herself cry.
Kink comes naturally to Roy Mustang. Perhaps it's because he's simply used to being in command of most every situation. Perhaps it's because he was raised in a…less than orthodox environment. He doesn't really see it as sexual deviancy, and it's not like it's something he needs in order to find satisfaction with a partner, but it's definitely his preference.
He likes to be in control. He likes to have his orders obeyed. He likes it when he can leave a few little bruises as a reminder to his partners that he was there. He likes to see how much bliss he can wring from a person's body—to tease and torment, to play and please until they're breathless and spent beneath him. Then, he likes to push for just a little bit more.
He likes bondage because he sees the way that it helps his partners to let go and give in to their bodies' demands. He likes impact—not because he wants to hurt anyone—but because it adds another flavor of control. He likes the way skin pinkens, loves to watch the pain bloom into pleasure at the touch of his hands.
Anyone who's ever met him he knows he likes the sound of his own voice, and he likes making his partners blush as he curls his tongue around filthy words, whispering debauchery against heated skin. He likes to watch as his partner's face goes slack in the moment of orgasm, lashes fluttering, lips parted while he murmurs how beautiful they look, how good they are, how much he's enjoying himself.
He's had more than enough partners to know exactly what he likes in bed. Maybe that makes him a bit of a manwhore—that's what Hughes used to call him. Maybe he just spent a lot of years lonely, trying to bury his pain behind the facade of the playboy degenerate who partied and drank too much. Maybe he was trying to forget the one woman he never thought he'd be able to have—the one he saw every day, the one he trusted and depended on, the one he always loved, no matter how much it hurt when he believed that she'd never love him back.
After the Promised Day, everything changed. There was no point in trying to pretend anymore. She'd seen too much. She knew. He's not sure anything in his life has ever shocked and humbled him more than learning that she returned his feelings—and not only that but that she was willing to retire from the military so she could continue to follow him on his crusade to rebuild in Ishbal.
After Marcoh showed up with the Stone and he regained his sight, they spent the night awake in their hospital room, snuggled together in Roy's bed as they talked over their options and decided what to do next. Letting Riza go wasn't one of those options, and he told her that from the start. He couldn't bear to move backwards now that he knew how she felt.
He suggested that they both retire anyway, but she insisted that she wouldn't let him give up on the dream of becoming Fuhrer. It wasn't just about rebuilding Ishbal but also about reforming Amestris. They still had work to do, and she was determined to continue pushing him to the top. They talked about carrying on an affair in secret, but Roy insisted that he wouldn't shame her by letting her be seen as some torrid affair, something dirty and underhanded that had to be kept hidden away.
So the only choice was for Riza to leave the military. She could still support him, just in an entirely different role. To his surprise, Grumman made things easy for them by creating a civilian position for her. She was to be the Fuhrer's policy advisor and to report to him monthly about the goings-on in East City, his eyes and ears inside Mustang's administration. At first, Mustang angrily assumed that Grumman meant her to spy on him, but then Riza reluctantly admitted to him that Grumman was actually her maternal grandfather, and that he was doing this for her.
"You're Elizabeth?" he asked, aghast. It made since, in retrospect. Somehow, he never made the connection between her assigned codename and the elusive granddaughter to whom Grumman constantly referred.
So Riza put aside her military blues in favor of soft sweater sets and tailored suits. She still carries at least three weapons on her at all times, though officially Havoc is now his bodyguard—restored to nearly full strength with the power of the Philosopher's Stone and several weeks of intensive physical therapy. Functionally, not much about her position has changed, although she reports to Central once a month like clockwork to make her report to Grumman.
And to have dinner with her grandfather at the Fuhrer's Mansion, to slowly try to build a relationship with the only family she has. Roy's happy for her and proud of her.
There's still perhaps a hint of scandal associated with their names. He doubts if anyone really believes that nothing happened between them before she left his command. They were always closer than an officer and subordinate really should be. He was never able to stay objective when it came to Riza Hawkeye.
Now she's no longer under any obligation to follow his orders at work, but he couldn't hide how pleased and excited he was when he learned that she enjoyed following orders outside of work, in an entirely different context. It shouldn't have surprised him to learn that Riza was sexually submissive. They complemented each other so perfectly in every other way; it only made sense that synchronicity would extend to the bedroom as well.
Still, he takes things slowly with Riza in a way he never has with anyone else. She's not a one-night stand he brought home drunk from a bar or a temporary dalliance sought merely to satisfy his need for company and to warm his bed. She's the love of his life, and he makes no secret of the fact that this is different. She is different than anything he's ever wanted before.
So the kink has to be different, too.
They fall into the roles of dominant and submissive as naturally as breathing. He takes charge, and she follows orders. It all simply works and flows, but he takes his time in bringing up more hardcore kinks. She calls him "Sir" in bed once, and when he reacts to the title by groaning and coming inside her, she keeps doing it. He slaps her ass while she rides him, and Riza moans, burying her face in his shoulder. He keeps it mild, keeps it simple. He plays it safe, because part of him is terrified of fucking this up.
Riza's the first one to bring it up in a more concrete way, which shouldn't surprise him. She's always been more practical and pragmatic, always thinking ahead.
"Would you ever consider…using some kind of restraints in bed?" she asks one evening as they lie curled together in her bed after making love. He'd pressed her against the door the moment they stepped inside the apartment, then dropped to his knees and pushed up the pencil skirt of her suit, ripping her stockings in his haste to get his hands on her legs and his mouth on her perfect cunt. Then he'd carried her to bed and put her on her knees, fucking her slow while she still wore her high heels and tattered silk stockings.
Now, she lies so still in his arms, he'd thought she had fallen asleep, so the question surprises him. He clears his throat and rolls to his side so he can face her.
"Is that something you'd want?" he asks, brushing the fringe of her bangs back from her face.
"I asked you first," Riza mumbles, looking away. Roy chuckles.
"That depends on who we're talking about tying up," he says. "I think you know I don't particularly like having my hands pinned," he adds with a wry smile. Riza frowns and grabs one of his hands, kissing the scar in the middle of his palm.
"No," she says. "I meant me. I meant…"
Roy nods and lays his hand against her cheek.
"Is that something you've done before?" he asks. He knows she's had a few partners before him. There was one longer-term relationship that ended last year when they moved to Central. He doesn't know any details, because he doesn't particularly like to think about it, as hypocritical as he knows that is when he's slept with half of East City.
"It is," Riza admits, flushing prettily. "And it's something I liked." She pauses, frowning slightly. "Have you ever…?"
"Yeah," Roy says. "I've done…a lot of things. To be honest, there's not much I wouldn't try at least once." He pauses. "At least…"
"As long as you're the one in control," she says, nodding. "I know."
Roy pulls her closer, shifting onto his back as she curls against his side.
"Yes," he says. "I like to be the one in control. And you like to submit." She nods, and he kisses the top of her head. "So, we should probably talk about that," he says slowly. "Maybe…talk about limits and expectations, I guess? Have a-a safeword?"
Riza looks up at him with a frown.
"We don't need that," she says. "I trust you. I mean, I don't need to…."
"I know," Roy says. "But it's still a good idea. We could just do…red, green, and yellow? Have you heard of that?"
She swallows and nods, laying her head down again.
"Alright," she says, kissing his chest.
"What about limits?" Roy asks. This is a conversation he usually speeds through with a new submissive partner, but with Riza, he wants to take his time. He wants to be careful and thorough.
She shrugs.
"You said there's not much you wouldn't try," she reminds him.
"I did," Roy agrees. "But that's my limits. I'm asking about yours."
She's quiet for a few minutes, and he gently strokes her hair, knowing that she'll speak again when she's ready.
"Nothing with…bodily fluids or…you know. And no blood."
"Definitely not," Roy says firmly. He realizes, perhaps for the first time, that it's a lot harder to be the submissive in this situation. He knows he's a good dominant, that he always takes good care of his partners, but he also knows that there are some twisted individuals out there. Thankfully, he's confident that Riza can handle herself in any situation.
"It's not a hard limit, but I don't really like being spit on," she continues. "Or suspended in any way. I don't mind being tied vertically, just…I'd rather my feet stay on the ground."
"Okay," Roy says, stroking her hair again. He can't imagine spitting on her. It's degrading and mean in a way that he's never been with any partner, no matter how rough things get. He's not experienced enough with ropes to do the kind of bondage she's talking about, so that's easy to agree to as well. She goes quiet again, and after a few minutes, he prompts, "What else?"
"I guess that's all," Riza says, shrugging her shoulders slightly. Roy wonders if that's because she's not familiar with some of the more extreme forms of play that occur to him or if it's because she's actually open to….
"What about impact play?" he asks bluntly. She stiffens slightly, and her hand on his chest tightens into a fist, then she nods. "Honey, you can say no—"
"It's not that," she says hurriedly. "I don't mind it. Sometimes I like it. I just…"
Roy frowns and looks down at her, lifting her face with a finger under her chin to make her look at him. Riza takes in a shaky breath.
"I don't want to give you reason to punish me," she whispers. "I don't…I'm not a brat. I like to-to…." She bites her lower lip, and Roy can't resist drawing it away with his thumb, gently rubbing. Her eyes go wide and darken, and he smiles.
"You like to be a good girl, is that it?"
Riza closes her eyes and nods, leaning into his palm, and Roy chuckles lowly, watching as she shivers. She's obviously as turned on by this conversation as he is, and it takes a lot of self-control to keep talking instead of diving in.
Not tonight. Keep going slow. Don't fuck it up.
"You are," he breathes, running his thumb over her cheekbone. "You've always been a good girl for me, Riza." Her lashes flutter as she shuts her eyes again and tips her head back. "So beautiful," he murmurs, as his resolve's tested in a way it rarely is. It's always been that way, when it comes to Riza.
He leans forward and kisses her forehead, and Riza blinks rapidly, her cheeks flushing. She lays her head back on his chest, clearly uncomfortable with the vulnerability she's just shown. Roy just strokes her hair again, continuing the conversation as though nothing happened.
"So it sounds like you're saying you're okay with impact play, but it bothers you as a form of punishment?" he asks. To his surprise, she shakes her head.
"No, you can punish me however you want. I don't…that's not up to me. Or it-it shouldn't be," she says. Roy keeps stroking her hair, frowning. He's not quite sure what to make of that statement, so he files it away for now as something to test out later, to proceed with caution and check in frequently if they decide to try it.
"Alright, what about outside of a punishment? If it's just for fun?" he asks. Riza just nods her head. "Okay," he muses. "We covered bondage. No suspension. What about…toys?"
Riza nods again.
"Nothing you object to?" Roy presses. "I mean, there's…a lot of different…"
"I know," Riza says. "I'm not naive, Roy."
He raises an eyebrow at that. If he's honest with himself, he's surprised. If anything, he'd suspected she'd maybe dabbled in a bit of play here and there—maybe been tied up or had someone spank her a bit. He never really imagined her as being into hardcore kink, but he can't deny that he's pleased at the thought—if not necessarily pleased at the idea that she's tried things with anyone other than him.
Which is dumb, but his lizard brain can't help but whisper mine, mine, mine.
"I'm just being thorough," he says, dropping his hand to her waist and rubbing lightly. "What about anal?"
"That's fine," Riza murmurs, and he grins.
"Edging? Overstimulation?" She keeps nodding along as he throws out other kinks, and he realizes that there really isn't much that she objects to, which makes his blood pound with the desire to try it all.
Slowly. Carefully. Safely.
"What about…sharing?" he asks. "Bringing in a third, just for fun?"
To his surprise, Riza goes stiff as a board, then sits up, shaking her head rapidly.
"No," she says. "No, that's a hard limit. I don't…No."
"Okay," Roy says softly, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, that's fine, sweetheart. Really. I'm just…I'm not even saying that's something I'd want. I really am just trying to have a thorough conversation about possibilities, okay?"
She closes her eyes and nods, taking in a shaky breath through her nose.
"Ria," he murmurs the nickname he gave her when they were just kids at Hawkeye Manor, and she was his sensei's austere and quiet daughter.
He used to try to make her laugh, and on the rare occasion she actually did, it always filled him with light and warmth. He knew as a teenager that she had a crush on him, but he'd seen her as more of a little kid, for all that she was only three years younger than him. Still, they'd been friends, and though he hadn't used the nickname in years—since before Ishbal—he's said it on a few occasions now, and so far it's brought a soft smile to her face each time.
It has the intended effect now as Riza opens her eyes, her lips turning up at the corners.
"Sorry," she mumbles. "I just…that's something I'm really not into."
"I gathered as much," Roy says, rubbing her shoulder. "That's fine, Ria, really."
Slowly, she lays back down against his chest.
"I like it when you call me that," she says quietly. Roy grins.
"I can tell," he says fondly. "I like calling you that."
He tries to think of anything else he's missed, and he's sure that there are things that will come up over time, but he can feel her body slowly relaxing against his. He loves the way she gets heavier in his arms as she falls asleep.
He knows to leave the lamp on her bedside table on as he scoots down further under the covers and kisses the top of her head, his mind already racing with ideas about how to plan a scene for her.