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Riza looked at the scar on her throat.
It had been months since the Promised Day, since the gold-toothed doctor gave the order to slit her throat, but even that wasn’t enough time to really heal. She remembered what it felt like to have cold metal in places where it shouldn’t be, inside her, opening her up. How close she had been to death.
How May had saved her, but also, how she would always have the scar.
Sometimes she imagined Roy Mustang running his fingers over it, restoring feeling to the small strip of gnarled tissue and deadened skin. Soothing the parts of her that weren’t perfect anymore.
With quick fingers, she slipped her black turtleneck over her head and pulled it up above the jagged pink line. No one needed to see it. Giving Hayate an affectionate pat on the head, she slipped out the door to her apartment.
It was still early morning, but she’d grown accustomed to staying up late and getting up early during her military career. With the nightmares that plagued her, both of her time in Ishval and the horrors she saw and experienced on the Promised Day, it was better that way. She and Mustang both agreed that it was better that way. They worked each other into exhaustion, the Führer and his bodyguard. Late in the evening sometimes, she stole glances of the way his back curved and his hair draped over his forehead.
Most mornings, she walked to his apartments, and they took a car together to work. Most mornings, he greeted her in his foyer as she met him with a crisp salute and a “Good morning, sir.”
This morning was different. When she let herself in, the rooms were dark and cold, like he hadn’t yet had the chance to warm them himself. Strange.
“Colonel Mustang, sir?” she called. “Are you here?” There was no response. Hand instinctively gripping her weapon, she walked through the foyer into his private chambers. Although they were no mystery to her—not after the dozens of times she’d stayed with him to protect him from threats—she still felt odd about entering his bedroom.
“Sir?” she said, a little louder, pushing the door open. The lights were on, and his bed was still unmade, covers rumpled. The door to the bathroom stood ajar, and she could hear the shower running.
“R-riza…” she heard. She unholstered her gun.
“Mustang?” There was suspicion in her voice. From the other room, he whimpered—was it a moan? He must be in danger, she thought. I haven’t protected him well enough. With one shoulder, Hawkeye slammed open the door—it was unlocked anyway, odd—and pointed her gun toward the running shower, expecting to see Mustang’s assailant.
Instead, she saw the partially fogged glass shower door open, Roy’s pink cheeks under the hot water, one of his hands pinching his nipple, the other’s fingers buried inside his pussy.
It was easily the hottest things Riza had ever seen. She dropped her firearm and backed up, face flushing. However, it was too late—he looked up, startled, when the bathroom door opened with a bang. He quickly used his hands to cover up his crotch and turned off the water.
“Riza!” He blushed even pinker. “I mean, Lieutenant Hawkeye. I, uh…”
“Sir, were you….” she trailed off, unable to form words. Were you fingering yourself with my name on your lips? Were you thinking about what it would feel like to have me inside you? Do you want me like I want you?
“I was….uh…” She took a step closer to him, shifting, and took a deep breath.
“Sir, I just want you to know that if you think of me…sexually…that I would be happy to help.” She met his eyes, holding his gaze.
“I wouldn’t make you do that.” He looked at the side of the shower, biting his lip. “I know what I am. It would be inappropriate, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, you wouldn’t be making me do anything. I…I want you, sir. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? All those years, Riza.” He looked hurt. “Was it because of, because of this?” He gestured to his vagina. She shook her head vehemently.
“No, never. I don’t think any less of you because of your anatomy, sir. It’s…it’s attractive to me, actually.” Color started to rise in her cheeks.
He stepped closer to her, still dripping wet.
“You think I’m hot?” he asked. “You…you really think that?”
Hesitantly, she wrapped her arm around his waist, not caring that he was getting her uniform wet. With one careful hand, she drew him closer, looking deep into his eyes before gently kissing him, waiting to see if he would kiss her back.
Mustang stiffened momentarily in surprise before relaxing into her lips, winding his arms around her waist.
“Do you want this, Roy? Do you want me?” Riza asked him, pulling back. “I want to make sure you’re okay with this.” He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers.
“I want you,” he said, using one hand to undo the first buttons of her uniform jacket. She grinned wickedly, picking him up and carrying him over to his bed as he wrapped his legs around her waist.
“Good,” she murmured, gently laying him on his back and moving to straddle his waist with her legs. Leaning down to kiss him, she gently brushed her hands down his bare chest, stopping to touch his nipples and run her hands over the scars underneath his pectoral muscles. He reached around and slipped her jacket off her shoulders, unbuttoning her shirt, until she was wearing just her black sports bra and uniform pants.
He slipped his fingers under the elastic, but she grabbed his wrists and stopped him.
“Can we…can we go slow to start out with?” she asked. “I just…I want to savor this.”
“Of course. I want you to be comfortable,” he said. Slowly, he moved his hands up to the top of the bed, crossing his wrists in a submissive gesture. “Go at your own pace. I’m with you.”
Carefully, she used two fingers to tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck, and placing gentle kisses all the way from his ear down to his collarbone.
“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“Yeah?” He asked. “For how long?”
“Years, Roy, God, you’re perfect, I’ve wanted you basically since I saw you.” She bit down on his neck, eliciting a strangled gasp. Then she sat up, unbuttoning her pants, rolling over him momentarily to slip them off with her socks and shoes, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. Returning to him, she captured his mouth in a fierce kiss.
“Tell me what you were thinking of in the shower,” she commanded, reaching down to caress his hips, moving her hand closer and closer to his vagina.
“I was—I was—” His breath hitched as she brushed her fingers against his pubis mons.
“You were?” she teased, ghosting almost, but not quite, on his clitoris.
“Ahhh—I was thinking about you—you f-fucking me with a strap-on!” he gasped.
“That’s more like it,” she said, fisting her hand in the back of his hair and dragging his mouth to hers. “Would you like that, Roy?” she asked. “I’m not going to be gentle with you. I hope you understand that.”
“Y—yes mistress!” he choked out, panting. “Please be rough with me.”
She smiled wickedly. “Good.” Then in one swift motion, she rolled him over, shoving his hips up and burying her face in his dripping wet pussy. He cried out, moaning and pushing his body back against her face. “I like it when you call me mistress.” She shoved her tongue inside him, earning a loud whine.
“Please, mistress, please fuck my pussy, please fuck me with a strap on, ma’am, I want you inside me!” he begged as she continued to lick and suck. “It’s—I have one in the drawer of my nightstand—please—“
With a squelch, she removed her mouth from his pussy, leaving him pushing his hips into thin air. She reached over and opened the drawer, efficiently finding the toy. With military precision, she stepped into it, tightening the straps and grasping the cock. It was impressive—about nine inches long, thick, realistic-looking. Roy looked back at her, and through his blurred, horny vision, it almost looked as if she really had a dick.
Stepping forward, she knelt on the bed, running one hand along his dripping hole and using the wetness to slick up the dildo. He fisted his hands in the sheets, bent over and ready for her.
“I want you to beg for it, Roy. Beg for my dick. After all these years, aren’t you just gagging for it?”
“Yes, mistress Riza, please, please fuck me, I want your thick cock inside me, fill me up with your dick, please, oh god, I’m so wet for you!”
She put the tip of the cock right at his entrance, pressing in slightly. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted me for.”
“Riza, I’ve wanted you—I’ve wanted you since we first started working together, I wanted you to do this to me, I just didn’t know how to say it, I didn’t, I want you so badly—“
“Shhh,” she said, rubbing a hand over his back. “I’m here now. You have me now.” Slowly, she pushed into him, relishing the long, broken moan that slipped form his mouth. “Good boy. You’re my good boy.”
“Please, please fuck me…” he whimpered.
“Oh, I will,” she said, punctuating it with a thrust. “I will.” He heard the grin in her voice before she roughly grabbed his hips and started fucking him with wild abandon, digging in her fingernails hard enough to leave marks.
“More, more, more!” he chanted, slamming his hips back against hers. She slapped his ass, once, twice, three times, and he screamed sharply.
“I’ll give you more, slut,” she said, thrusting as deeply as she could into him. Reaching around his thigh, she began to rub his clit, and his breathing came in ragged, sharp pants.
“Riza, if you, Mistress, if you keep that up I’m gonna—I’m gonna—“
“Cum for me, Roy,” she said, picking up the pace. “Cum with my cock inside you and my fingers on you, good boy.” As she said this, his body began to shake in pleasure and he threw his head back.
“God, Riza, oh God, I’m cumming, you feel so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, Riza!” He clenched down on the dildo and then collapsed, exhausted, ass still in the air. She gently pulled the strap-on out of him, taking it off and dropping it on the floor. She’d take care of it later. Right now, she was going to take care of him.
Gently, Riza rolled him over onto his back, opening her arms as he nestled into her breast, wrapping his arms around her.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I’ve…I’ve been wanting that for awhile.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“I know,” she said. “You made that pretty clear.” Smiling gently, she ran her fingers through his now-messy hair.
“I love you,” he said softly, looking up at her. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”
“I love you too,” she said, holding him close. He flushed bright red at that, burying his face in her chest. “The only reason I never said anything was because I thought it would be inappropriate. That you wouldn’t want me too. But… I’m glad I walked in on you in the shower.”
“Me too,” he said. “Can we…can we have a minute before we get dressed? I know we’re late, but…after all, I am the Führer.”
“Your wish is my command, sir,” she said, holding him close. They stayed like that for a long while.
When they arrived several hours late, no one commented on the fact that they had accidentally put on each other’s shirts.