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“While I trust my team, I have been noticing…” Roy hesitated, adjusting the phone against his ear.
“A lack of cohesion?” Hughes offered.
Much more diplomatic than sibling rivalry. Roy had recently been granted permission to choose officers for his own team—a sure sign a promotion was on the way this year. But the last time they had to work together as a unit, Hawkeye and Havoc disagreed on tactics, Falman kept piping in with more information than necessary, Breda was too easy going and let the others walk all over him, and Fuery hunkered down like a child whose parents were fighting.
It felt wrong to go to Hughes for help, but Hughes had a way of forming tight-knit groups with ease. While Roy could say his team members trusted him, they certainly did not trust each other.
“Yes, exactly,” Roy said.
“It can take time,” Hughes said. “But you could try some team building exercises?”
“Is that what you do?”
Hughes was muffled for a minute. It sounded like he was kissing Gracia. Again. Roy sighed. The man was impossibly shameless.
“Ah, yes, that’s what I do. Something that loosens them up—you have to get them comfortable with one another.”
“Can you be more specific?”
More suspicious giggling and kissing noises again. “I dunno, play a game. Have a friendly competition?”
A team building exercise. Roy was going to have to sit on that one.
Another giggle. “And that’s my cue, you crazy exhibitionist! Goodnight!” Roy yelled, hanging up the phone forcefully.
A couple weeks later, Roy had almost forgotten about Hughes’s idea. The office was silent except for the quiet hum of his officers at work. Then Hawkeye excused herself, and suddenly the men were talking and joking. Oh. His intimidating lieutenant. The men were afraid of her.
He couldn’t blame them. Hadn’t she terrified him a little even as a young girl? She’d always been a little too serious, watchful and quiet. But of everyone in his team, he trusted her the most. Maybe he should consider Hughes’s idea again. He wanted them all to trust her as much as he did, and see the fun side of her that made him like her so much.
Then he tuned into what his men were actually saying.
“And you’d just had sex the night before? What’s wrong with you?” Falman said, laughing.
“It’s relaxing!” Havoc insisted. “It’s a daily ritual kind of thing. Takes the edge off.”
“Daily? I can manage once a week, easy, especially with a woman in my life,” Falman insisted.
Breda chuckled. “I’m not like Havoc, but I prefer more often, even with a girlfriend helping me out.”
“See, Breda supports me!”
“I still wouldn’t be doing it the morning after a night with my girlfriend!” Breda said, slapping the desk and laughing boisterously.
Roy’s brow furrowed. Were they talking about what he thought?
“I don’t think I’ve been able to go more than a week since I hit puberty,” Havoc said. “I’m a healthy young man.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Roy finally interrupted.
“Havoc’s girlfriend—now ex-girlfriend—walked in on him…you know,” Fuery offered, his face bright red.
Roy snorted, happy to ignore his paperwork to tease Havoc. “What? You forget how to lock a door?”
Havoc turned red. “It was early in the morning! I thought she was asleep.”
“Clearly, she awoke frustrated. Did you even take care of her needs, Havoc?” Roy couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“I always leave my woman satisfied,” Havoc growled.
“Maybe if you weren’t molesting yourself every day, you’d have more passion for your girlfriend,” Breda pointed out. “Pace yourself, man.”
“I could go without it if I needed to. You all would crack long before me if it were a contest.” Havoc crossed his arms, the picture of perfect confidence.
“You think so?” a feminine voice challenged.
Hawkeye stood in the doorway, her face expressionless.
“How long have you been standing there, lieutenant?” Roy asked, noting he wasn’t the only man in the office vainly attempting to play it cool. While Hawkeye was as good a soldier as anyone, probably better, this kind of crude conversation always starkly
reminded everyone she was a woman as much as a soldier.
Hawkeye strolled over to her desk. “Long enough to know I shouldn’t set Havoc up with any of my friends.”
The men guffawed and cheered, except for Havoc who collapsed on his desk. And that’s when Roy realized he had an opportunity.
“Why don’t we make a…competition of it?” Roy said, standing up like he was going to give orders. “A…team building exercise, if you will.” His eyes drifted to Hawkeye, giving her a meaningful look that he hoped conveyed: back me up on this or else.
“What do you mean, sir?” Hawkeye asked, everything from her eyebrow to her stiff shoulders giving away her heavy skepticism.
“Who can hold out the longest?” Roy said, tapping his chin. “Havoc has made quite the challenge to the rest of us.”
Havoc sat up straight. “I could definitely outlast all of you. I am a disciplined sniper.”
“So is Hawkeye,” Falman said.
“Is Hawkeye participating?” Fuery asked, his cheeks now the color of a strawberry.
This was just more evidence Hughes was right. The team needed to get more comfortable with one another—particularly with their lone female officer. They needed to fear who Hawkeye was as a soldier, not as a woman.
Roy turned to his lieutenant, gesturing for her to answer. All eyes were on her. She gave Roy a steely look before rolling her eyes. “Sure, I’m in.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Is that fair?” Havoc asked. “Women can naturally hold out longer than men.”
Roy told himself not to think about how often Hawkeye was pleasuring herself as he answered.
“All right, not holding out the longest, but who can hold out until a certain date,” he amended.
“How long?” Breda asked. “And does sex count?”
Roy began to pace the floor, his mind flowing with ideas. He was going to have to make up a chart. And they needed strict rules. It could be very unofficially official. Hughes would be proud.
“Sex will count. What seems a reasonable goal?” he asked, tossing the problem out for his team to solve. He could admit he was more like Breda and indulged himself several times a week. The idea of holding out for more than a week sounded like a small torture, but just a week wouldn’t be challenging enough.
“Two weeks,” Havoc proposed.
“Two weeks? What a flimsy challenge,” Falman said. “I’ll crush you.”
“Three?” Fuery suggested, though he made a face as he said it.
Breda looked around, studying his teammates and superior officer with a critical gaze. Roy wondered if he was sizing up the competition. Roy was already sweating at the idea of two weeks. Three would be unbearable.
“Three sounds reasonable,” Falman agreed.
“But perhaps a tad too easy,” Breda said, rubbing his hand over his short hair. “A month would be a challenge for everyone, wouldn’t it?” Gazes flickered to Hawkeye, who sat primly with her hands folded on her desk, like this was any old team meeting. She would destroy them all.
“A month it is,” Roy said.
“What do we get if we win?” Hawkeye asked, still diplomatic. Her lips pulled into a tiny smile. “It needs to be worth the trouble, right? But not so much that anyone would be tempted to cheat.”
“So money’s out,” Breda said decisively, and the others agreed with surprising speed. A soldier’s pension was laughably meager, especially for anyone lower on the totem pole. Roy knew he was fortunate to have a state alchemist’s funding, but it had come with strings attached.
“I’ve got it!” Roy said, grinning. “We have two teams. And we do it for the honor of winning.”
“That could work,” Hawkeye said thoughtfully.
Then began a debate that lasted twenty minutes on who would be on which team. Everyone wanted to be on Hawkeye’s team, but the competition needed to be as strong as possible. Based purely on personality, rather than any real data, it was finally decided that Mustang’s team would have Falman and Breda, while Hawkeye’s opposing team included Fuery and Havoc. If she thought it was unfair, she didn’t say so.
Riza thought the entire competition was unfair. She knew what her ridiculous superior was thinking. The men were uncomfortable with her, and her participating in their stupid contest would help. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t, but she was annoyed.
Perhaps she was different from other women because she touched herself every night to help her fall asleep. It started a few months after returning from Ishval when she discovered her nightmares improved if she relaxed with happy—dirty—thoughts before bed.
But she was a disciplined sniper, she could hold off for a month. She just didn’t want to.
She slipped into the t-shirt she wore to bed and then did a few stretches she’d read would help her maintain her mobility despite the extensive scarring on her back. The tightness of her skin across those two patches had become as normal as the tug of her hair clips, but she needed to have full motion whenever she acted as Mustang’s bodyguard.
She finished with a few last neck stretches before she rolled into bed, turning off the lamp before she snuggled under the covers. Realizing this would be the last time to touch herself until the competition ended, she decided to take more time with it than she usually would. Tugging her underwear down, she slipped one hand between her thighs, the other hand crept underneath her shirt.
If she were honest with herself, she wanted to replay Mustang’s passionate, definitely inappropriate, brainstorming session. How he could sound so calm and professional while discussing masturbation in front of his team, she didn’t know, but even with the almost clinical nature of it, she’d felt warm and achy listening to him speak.
She wondered if he was a dirty talker in the bedroom, and she found herself falling over the edge much too quickly, thinking of what he might whisper against her ear while he thrusted in and out of her.
With a pleased sigh, she wriggled her underwear back into place and fell immediately into a deep sleep.
The next morning at the office, Riza was horrified to find a chalkboard had been rolled into the room. Mustang’s sharp handwriting had filled in a surprisingly vague chart with two columns for each team. Beside each team member’s name was a place to mark them out. At the bottom of the chart he’d written out the end date in bold lettering. She pressed her lips together. Thirty days had never seemed so long.
But as the men started arriving, she put on her poker face. She had to pretend this wasn’t a hardship whatsoever.
There was very little discussion about the competition. The first day should be a breeze, so no one expected anyone to crack so soon. They had a meeting about a possible money laundering case coming from Grumman, which would be a great opportunity to prove themselves as an efficient new team. Then Riza left for a committee on recruitment she attended as Mustang’s representative. It was such a humdrum, typical day that by the time work was over, she almost forgot about the competition entirely. She went to the library, cooked dinner, called Rebecca to chat, began reading one of the books she borrowed…
It wasn’t until she was dressing for bed that she remembered. She groaned, flopping onto the bed in frustration. The fact she shouldn’t touch herself just made her want to even more. Cursing Mustang under her breath, she turned off the lamp and lay stiffly in the dark, failing to relax.
It was hours later before she finally fell asleep.
The second day of the competition and Roy already had regrets. He woke up with an erection, as often happened in the mornings, but this time he had to wait for the damn thing to go away on its own.
His regrets grew when Falman came into the office, red-faced and staring at the ground. He strode straight to the chalkboard and drew an X beside his name.
“What! You’re already out?” Havoc crowed.
“Really, Falman, I’m disappointed in you,” Roy said, shaking his head. Now it was just him and Breda. “Do you at least have a good excuse?”
Falman saluted. “The new neighbor next to my apartment must have had her boyfriend over, sir. She was…very loud and enthusiastic.”
Roy grimaced. “Dismissed.” He could understand why a man would be tempted, but with his discipline as a soldier being tested…it was disappointing. He glanced over at Hawkeye and Havoc who were sharing a laugh—probably at Falman’s expense.
Falman was at his desk, determinedly reading a report. Roy look over at Breda who raised a fist in solidarity. Just the two of them against Hawkeye, Havoc, and Fuery. It was going to be a long month.
By day seven, Roy spent every morning talking down his erection, and giving himself quick, cold showers. The temptation was growing intolerable. What kind of stupid team building exercise was this! Certainly the dumbest idea he’d ever had. Rather than fostering teamwork, everyone, except Falman, was snappy and irritable. Even Hawkeye, which Roy found wonderfully intriguing. No, he definitely couldn’t spend time dwelling on that can of worms.
“I’m going to the shooting range if anyone wants to join me,” Hawkeye announced suddenly. “Havoc, Fuery,” her lips curved upward, “A gun is a good way to…release some tension.”
Chairs squeaked and knocked around as the men dropped everything to join her, everyone laughing as Falman waved them off good-naturedly. The smug bastard.
Hawkeye was fierce on the shooting range, only Havoc coming close to her level—and still well below it. Roy took a turn, but found himself stepping back to watch as the men cheered and clapped whenever she hit another seemingly impossible target. Roy knew Hawkeye took little pride in her skill after the war, but it was good for the men to respect her ability. Judging by the way young Fuery gaped in amazement, maybe the team building exercise wasn’t a total bust.
Roy stayed quiet on their walk back to the office, listening to the men pepper her with questions. Hawkeye answered them succinctly, without boasting, about her skills and how she had honed them growing up shooting cans and one time, a rather rotten pumpkin.
Roy remembered the pumpkin story as her father had told it, and he noted that Hawkeye didn’t mention him—or Roy for that matter. It gave him pause. Did she not want the men knowing of their history? He supposed as his subordinate, she probably preferred to put forward her merits rather than her connections. Funny, because Roy would never have become a state alchemist without her, and he likewise kept that a secret—for different reasons.
Riza was exhausted, which she would’ve thought would help her fall asleep. Instead, she tossed and turned, body restless. As soon as she found the edge of sleep, she jerked awake.
“Mustang, you idiot,” she groaned, punching her pillow. She couldn’t lose this competition, even if it meant a month of sleep deprivation. Twisted in her sheets, she was oh-so-tempted to give in, especially as she remembered the way Mustang had removed his jacket at the shooting range, only his white button-up shirt on. Thank goodness she was already at the range, she had had a lot of tension to release.
Punching her pillow again, she gave up an turned on the light, pulling out a book. She read until she passed out.
Riza wasn’t the only one on edge that night, and in the morning Havoc did the walk of shame to the chalkboard, scribbling an angry X beside his name.
Mustang hadn’t arrived yet, it was just Hawkeye and Fuery.
“What happened?” Fuery asked. Hawkeye noticed he was gnawing his fingernails raw.
Havoc covered his eyes dramatically. “My girlfriend wanted me back. How could I say no after—after—”
“Oh we all know after what,” Hawkeye said darkly. “I’m sure you lasted two seconds.”
“Hawkeye!” Havoc gasped, appalled.
Fuery collapsed on his desk, giggling helplessly.
“You deserve it,” she said. “Some of us are still suffering.”
“Come on, are you really suffering?” Havoc asked sarcastically.
Riza crossed her arms, giving him a hard look. This could really backfire on her.
She sighed, giving an embarrassed shrug as she focused on the notes in front of her. “I…use it to relax and fall asleep.” A timely yawn escaped her.
Havoc and Fuery each looked equally incredulous.
“Hawkeye! You were supposed to be a sure thing!” Havoc moaned. “We can’t lose to the boss!”
“You’re the one who claimed to have so much restraint and brought this whole thing down on us,” she reminded him.
“That is true,” Fuery agreed.
“Well, you could’ve worked your Hawkeye magic and talked him out of it,” Havoc muttered.
“I don’t have magic. If I did, the lieutenant colonel would get his work done more efficiently,” she said, feeling flattered despite herself. “And don’t worry. I have no intention of losing.”
Suddenly Havoc gawked at her. “Damn, you do look really tired. How—how often do you use it to sleep?”
Hawkeye realized she wouldn’t get any work done until she answered.
“Every night!” Havoc’s outburst was the first thing Roy heard as he walked in the door. He almost dropped the files he’d been carrying.
“Shh!” Hawkeye and Fuery frantically shushed, and Roy was immediately suspicious.
“What’s every night?” he asked. He was already on edge. It felt like once an hour his cock was at half mast, but hell if he was going to lose so quickly.
“Just talking about Havoc and his failure as a disciplined soldier,” Hawkeye said smoothly. Her eyes were playful, but Havoc looked betrayed—no, overwhelmed. Hawkeye was a good liar. Havoc was not.
Deciding to pursue it later, he set to work. The money laundering case was their first big assignment, and they needed it to go smoothly. Grumman had given him an early morning briefing, plus a stack of files, with instruction to investigate as Roy saw fit. Any
other time, he would’ve been positively gleeful—except for the fact his mood was apparently controlled by his dick.
After teasing Havoc mercilessly, Roy settled down at his desk, plotting how to end this competition. None of them would have to go for the full month if one team gave up first. But of course, Mustang had too much pride. He didn’t want to purposefully lose.
He’d just have to figure out how to crack his adjutant, whose mood had been notably altered by the competition, too. Maybe she wasn’t an insurmountable challenge after all.
Fuery would be easy.
“This is for you,” Fuery said, dropping a packet of papers on Riza’s desk. His cheeks were red, and he spoke very tersely.
Riza looked at the packet closer and saw there was a note scribbled on top: THESE ARE SAFER WITH YOU. FOUND THEM IN MY DESK AFTER LUNCH. I THINK WE ARE BEING SABOTAGED.
Riza picked up the packet and realized it was actually a selection of raunchy photographs of mostly nude female models. She narrowed her eyes, her gaze drifting over the men of the office. It was rather obvious what was happening. Mustang and Breda were struggling, and they wanted Hawkeye and Fuery to go out first. And young Fuery was hanging on by a hair. She couldn’t guess what they thought would work on her. She did a quick search of her desk, not finding any naked pictures of men.
Well, she could play that game, too.
She wrote a quick note to Fuery, telling him to make an excuse and step out for a break. It was time to retaliate.
As soon as Fuery was gone, Riza shuffled the photos, clicking her tongue. She walked over to Mustang’s desk and fanned the photographs across his desk.
“This contraband has turned up in the office, sir,” she said. “Should I write up an official report and turn it in?”
Mustang’s dark eyes grew piercing. Ah, he hadn’t expected this. Good.
“I’m sure something as small as this isn’t worth your time to make a report about,” he said smoothly.
Riza nodded, watching from the corner of her eye as Falman paled. Yes, as she thought. Breda and Mustang wouldn’t go near any kind of temptation. They sent the man who was already out.
“It would be a long report,” she said agreeably. “I’d have to catalogue each photograph, describing each one. What if any of these women are soldiers? This could be blackmail.” She made a show of appearing conflicted. “I don’t think we should skip reporting
this, sir.”
Mustang glowered. He knew she knew. He just didn’t want to back down.
“See this one?” she asked, pointing to one she’d left displayed most prominently. “Doesn’t she look a little like Private Jennison?” A young soldier whose breasts were so large, Riza pitied her a little. Jennison had to have all her uniforms specially tailored. But Riza also knew every man in East City’s military knew the woman by name.
“Who looks like Private Jennison?” Havoc asked eagerly.
Mustang tried to hide the photos too late as Havoc rushed over.
“Holy shit, these are amazing.” Havoc roared, grabbing the pictures. “These must be killing you, boss.”
Mustang tilted his face to the ceiling. “I am being punished for trying to strategize.”
“What?” Havoc looked between Riza and Mustang.
“Fuery found these in his desk after lunch.” Riza turned on her heel, smiling deviously at Falman and Breda.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Havoc said, studying the photos like they were critical pieces of evidence.
“The sooner it’s over for one team, the sooner it’s over for everyone,” Breda pointed out.
“Well, good luck getting me to crack,” she said, turning on her heel. “I doubt you two will even be able to hold out another week.”
Hawkeye was right. Roy and Breda were both reaching their limits. It was all well and good at work, but the minute he was alone…
Roy nodded at Breda as the other man walked out the door. Maybe he was taking this too seriously, but there was something tantalizing about getting Hawkeye to give in first.
A few minutes later Roy packed up, said goodnight to his adjutant who was furiously assembling some kind of information packet some higher ups had requested, and then he met up with Breda outside the building.
“What’d you find out?” Roy asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Hawkeye’s more vulnerable than we thought,” Breda said, chuckling. “Havoc could not resist telling me that she—she does it every night. To go to sleep, apparently.” Breda covered another laugh, slightly awkward and uncomfortable. “I can hardly believe it.”
Roy understood the feeling. Every night? He wanted to shout, just like Havoc. While he knew women could be very sexual—he’d grown up in a bar where pretty women entertained men for a living—he hadn’t seen Hawkeye that way. He’d always seen her as a woman he would need to coax an orgasm from, kiss her blush away as he slowly undressed her…
He’d thought about it so many times, and now…the reality was threatening to overcome his self-control. He wanted nothing more than to take this information home and stroke himself until he came, thinking of his gorgeous lieutenant touching herself.
“Maybe we should strategize over a drink?” Roy offered.
Because he really needed a damn drink.
The next Monday, Roy arrived an hour late to the office. He’d stayed awake pouring over the money laundering case—he suspected a local paint supplier had something to do with it. They might need to do an overnight search of their warehouse, which was much larger than a business of their size required.
All thoughts of the case evaporated as he saw two more had been knocked out of the competition. Hawkeye’s name was still blank.
“Still holding out, sir?” she asked.
“Yes, I didn’t get this promotion without a good dose of discipline, you know.”
Fuery and Havoc groaned as Breda and Falman cheered.
“You got this, boss!” Breda said.
“You think you can last the whole month?” Hawkeye challenged.
Roy grinned. “What about you, lieutenant? You look…tired.”
Her eyes widened before she quickly recovered. “Nothing a little coffee won’t fix,” she said, holding up a cup. “But you don’t have anything keeping you…up at night, sir?”
She was a little bit evil, he decided.
“So insubordinate,” he said lightly, returning to his desk. “Breda, what the hell happened, man? You’re leaving me against the lieutenant by myself?”
Breda saluted, then hung his head, even as he laughed at himself. “I got a little too drunk and forgot about the competition. I will do everything I can to support you, sir. Our honor as men is at stake.”
Mustang covered his face with his hands.
“And you, Fuery?”
“Do I have to say?” he moaned, slumping pathetically against his desk.
“Of course not,” Roy said amiably. “We are all entitled to our privacy. Uh, or as much as a game like this allows.”
“I bet he was done in by Private Jennison. Damn, she was about to bust out of her—” Havoc cut himself off, giving a sheepish look to Hawkeye.
“Probably best not to bring it up—even though she totally was, poor girl,” Hawkeye said, shaking her head. “She’s actually a very good soldier, and she struggles for anyone to see beyond her—endowments.”
Roy shared a look with his adjutant. Hawkeye’s skills as a soldier were unmissable, but she had to rise better than the best of the men to earn the respect of their superiors. It was harder being a woman in the military, and in ways Roy often didn’t notice.
“I guess it’s like how no one can see past my handsome face,” Havoc said, fluttering his eyelashes. Hawkeye aimed a rubber band at his back. “Ow!”
“If you had real discipline, you could’ve dodged it,” she said, swiftly blocking his retaliation with a folder.
Roy would’ve thought that Hawkeye was truly unbothered by the competition, that he had no hope of winning, until he saw her leave for the shooting range again. While she kept her skills sharp, it was unheard of for her to go on Mondays when they were usually busiest.
He rested his chin on his hand, he was going to need to have another meeting with Breda and Falman.
“Uh, so why are we meeting here?” Fuery asked, peering around the smoky, crowded bar with suspicion.
Havoc released a puff of his own smoke, eyeing some of the beautiful waitresses bringing drinks. “Isn’t this the place Mustang likes?”
Riza smiled. “Oh, the same one. I’m sure he’s brought you all here before, right?” She knew her superior well. He trusted these men, and if he had their trust, they must have been vetted by Madame Christmas’s girls. While Chris operated out of Central, she had girls posted at bars around the country. With Roy in East City, she had sent one of his favorite “sisters” to watch out for him.
“He brought you here, Hawkeye?” Fuery choked out. “If my mother knew I was here, she’d skin me alive!”
“I’ve been here a time or two,” Riza said casually, waving Vanessa over.
“Elizabeth!” Vanessa squealed, and she dropped practically into Riza’s lap to hug her. “What are you doing here?” She looked to Fuery and Havoc. “Are you two-timing my brother?”
Riza laughed, fighting a blush. She hoped they didn’t know Vanessa meant Mustang. Vanessa and all the other girls had been teasing them since the first time Mustang brought her to Madame Christmas’s bar in Central—not long after he’d burned the array off her back. The girls kept up the teasing probably because Mustang had squawked at them not to scare her off.
“These are some of Mustang’s other men—Jean Havoc and Kain Fuery.” Riza put her hand to Vanessa’s ear. “We need some dirt on the Flame Alchemist.” She pulled back, forcing a giggle the way Vanessa and the other girls had taught her.
“Oh, you are bad,” Vanessa said. “Want some drinks before we chat?”
Riza nodded. “Put it on you-know-who’s tab.”
“You have gotten positively cheeky,” Vanessa said, slipping off behind the bar.
Havoc and Fuery turned to Riza, both patiently awaiting an explanation.
“Vanessa and the girls have mentored me in the art of…persuasion.” Riza couldn’t think of a better word for it. “I go by Elizabeth here.”
“Is that your full name?” Fuery asked.
“No.” It was her middle name. “But Vanessa might have some ideas on how to get one over on our boss. He’s probably plotting something—and we need to try and get a step ahead of him if we can.”
Havoc stubbed out his cigarette. “Yeah, he didn’t seem bothered by those photos at all. Is he even human?”
“It’s been almost three weeks. I was dying at one,” Fuery confessed.
Vanessa returned to the table with drinks, and she genuinely laughed as the three of them explained their predicament.
“So this is for the pride of women everywhere, is it?” Vanessa concluded.
“And these two,” Riza added, sipping her cocktail.
“Hmm, Roy is a tricky one,” Vanessa said. “He’s been taught to ignore the usual ploys girls use.”
“So you’re saying he’s immune to the obvious feminine charms?” Havoc said glumly.
Vanessa nodded. “I truly believe a woman could strip naked in front of him and he wouldn’t bat an eye.”
“Even after weeks of…abstaining?” Riza asked, feeling a little desperate. She was wound up with tension, and so, so tired. Another nine days of sleeplessness—no. She had to crack him.
“I couldn’t say,” Vanessa said. “But when he sets his mind to do something, he does it.”
“Well, I suppose a stalemate is almost as good as winning, right?” Fuery offered weakly.
Vanessa shook her head. “Winning is always better. I do adore Roy, but—” She hugged Riza tightly. “We have a sisterhood. Now come with me, I’m going to tell you something the boys can’t overhear.”
Vanessa played up the girly act, giggling and holding Riza’s hand as they darted through the dimly lit bar.
Vanessa led them to a private room in the back, finally dropping the giggling act, though even without it Vanessa was a very cheery person. She flopped on a loveseat, tossing her hair back.
“You and my brother are almost painful to watch. He came by earlier. Said he needed to know how to drive a woman mad with lust without doing it himself.”
Riza blanched. “He what?”
“That tells me he’s very close to his own limits. He wouldn’t come begging for advice from me otherwise.” She smirked. “It also makes sense why he wouldn’t tell me any more detail than that. I wouldn’t have helped him!”
Feeling encouraged that Mustang was reaching the end of his rope, Riza was back to business. “So what did you tell him? I need to prepare for whatever he’s going to try to do.”
Vanessa—carefree, shameless Vanessa—blushed. “I had no idea he meant you, okay? Remember that.” She sucked in a breath. “I told him to…take you for a bumpy drive. Or anything else that might…stimulate things.” She erupted in giggles.
“He’s a terrible driver!”
“A perfect excuse, I told him,” Vanessa said, snorting into her hands.
“I’m only doing this stupid competition because he wants me to get along better with the men on the team,” Riza said, feeling cross. “I haven’t slept properly since it began, and now it’s just that idiot between me and a good night’s sleep. I need to crack him.”
“Maybe that’s all you need to do,” Vanessa said thoughtfully. “Tell him just how much you are dying for it. His noble self won’t be able to resist. Especially if you play it up like Elizabeth would,” she finished, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I could never do that.”
“Why not? It could work!”
“Because—he’s my superior.” It sounded flimsy when she put it that way.
“Your superior who started a very questionable competition that could get you all a court martial.”
She had a point. “Well…I’ll sleep on it.” Or not sleep, as usual.
The next morning, armed with extra strong coffee, Riza confronted her superior. She wanted him to squirm. She leaned on his desk, taking a small sip of the terrible coffee from the break room. Conveniently, the other men had left to finish preparations for the money laundering case.
“I can’t believe you went to Vanessa for advice,” she said, hoping she sounded like the scolding adjutant she aimed to be.
Mustang threw his pen down. “What? She told you?”
Riza let him stew for a few moments longer than she should have. “Yes. Because I also went to her for advice.”
His eyes narrowed. “What did she tell you?”
“She told me to prey on your more noble nature,” she said, adding the lilting tones of Elizabeth. “Please, sir, I need to sleep. I’m tossing and turning all night, so tense—”
His hands slammed down on the desk.
“Lieutenant, that won’t work,” he said. Riza’s heart pounded in her chest. She was very sure it was working. His breathing had subtly picked up—and he had shifted forward in his chair very deliberately.
She couldn’t call him out on it though. It seemed…unsporting. “Well then, don’t even think of offering me a ride anywhere, sir.”
He spluttered, avoiding her gaze. “I wasn’t going to!”
She threw her head back and laughed before returning to her desk, waiting for the others to arrive before she deployed her next tactic.
Roy was in trouble. If Hawkeye had gone to Vanessa for advice, Hawkeye would know a little too accurately how to take him down. Hawkeye was the only girl he’d ever brought to the bar, and during some of the “lessons” the girls did with her had been far too effective on him—and Vanessa knew it, even if Hawkeye hadn’t picked up on it at the time. And Vanessa knew they were only so effective because it was Riza Hawkeye teasing and flirting with him.
He avoided looking at her as he discreetly adjusted himself beneath his desk. Under normal circumstances when he wasn’t a few strokes away from losing his pride as an officer, ignoring her was easy. It was a protective habit to see her as a soldier and friend, nothing more.
Now he saw her as he once did when she was nothing more than his teacher’s daughter: a forbidden fantasy.
His life would be simpler if he just gave in, bowed to his lieutenant’s stronger discipline. But some embarrassing part of him wanted to go longer—show her that he was more than capable of holding off. As long as he needed to.
Roy reined himself in, forcing himself to do another once over of his formal request to search the warehouse of the paint supplier. He was quite pleased with the details Hawkeye had added. Grumman would surely approve. Deciding it was good enough, Roy passed the form off to Hawkeye who promptly left to deliver it to Grumman’s office without even a teasing word. Suspicious.
The other men trickled in, and Havoc walked in especially smug. Roy’s suspicions grew.
“Boss, I had a question for you. I was chatting with my girlfriend about our competition,” Havoc began. Roy put on a purposefully disinterested look. “She’s rooting for Hawkeye, obviously, but she wondered if under the conditions set, if they weren’t a bit sexist.”
“Oh?” Roy asked.
“Well, a woman can have sex without orgasming—it’s just a matter of biology, isn’t it? So if Hawkeye wanted to have some fun without the satisfaction, so to speak, couldn’t she do that?”
He heard Fuery strangle a laugh.
“Just as much as any of us could, I guess,” Roy said flatly.
“I’ll be sure to pass that on to Hawkeye, sir,” Havoc said.
Roy sighed. “Don’t blame me if she shoots you.”
He wanted to shoot Havoc himself. Roy knew what the bastard was doing—and Hawkeye probably had something to do with it. Because what Elizabeth had been taught was to seduce with suggestion. Now Roy was thinking about her, wanting to feel wrapped around her while she came apart. It felt like a whole other challenge, making her come in the middle of sex. He wondered if any of her lovers had managed it before. He suspected not. They didn’t have the restraint Roy did.
Roy dropped his head to his desk, indifferent to how it looked. He was ready to walk to the bathroom and have one off like a horny teenager.
“Boss, no!” Breda said. “Be strong! This is about our honor as men—as soldiers!”
“Havoc, that was cold,” Falman said.
Havoc shook his head. “The sooner this is over, the sooner Hawkeye stops breathing down my neck about my overdue work. She’s much more vicious lately.” He shuddered.
“Forget this, I need—I need to step out,” Roy said, gathering what was left of his dignity and standing to leave. He didn’t care. It had been almost three weeks. He hadn’t gone this long since the war.
“Falman! Plan B!” Breda yelled.
Falman jumped from his desk, a bucket materializing from behind it.
Abruptly, Roy was drenched in cold water.
“What the hell?” he snarled, turning to Falman who was still holding the empty bucket.
“Sir!” And of course Hawkeye would appear, and while her face gave away nothing, her eyes were definitely laughing at him. “What happened?”
The men couldn’t explain over their laughter. Roy slicked his hair back with a wet palm. “Plan B, that’s all, lieutenant.”
“Well, you are useless when wet,” Hawkeye said, dropping her eyes respectfully to the floor.
“Insubordinate, disloyal monsters,” Roy grumbled under his breath, taking his soaked jacket off and tossing it at Falman. The jacket had taken the brunt of the attack and droplets sprayed across the room. “Find me a dry shirt, Falman!” Typically he would ask Hawkeye, but he was trying not to look at her at the moment. His erection had finally retreated, but he wasn’t risking anything yet.
Falman went digging in the closet where they kept odds and ends—such as extra shirts—and appeared with a clean, dry shirt. Without thinking, Roy began to unbutton his current one to change.
“Avert your eyes, Hawkeye!” Havoc hollered, and Roy looked up to see the man diving in front of Hawkeye who had been waiting in front of Roy’s desk expectantly. Holding the search warrant, he realized. It had been approved!
“What are you doing?” Hawkeye yelped, as Havoc covered her eyes with his hands.
“I think their Plan B is to seduce you with the lieutenant colonel’s abs. What’s he doing just stripping in front of a female officer so boldly!”
Roy felt a flush creep up his neck. He’d thought nothing of changing in front of her.
“Havoc, what do you know about my abs?” he asked, diverting attention from himself.
“Don’t change the subject,” Havoc said, still trying to cover Hawkeye’s eyes as she struggled to bat him away without dropping the paperwork in her arms.
“Stop being stupid!” she said, elbowing him hard enough to release her. “I have the approval from General Grumman, but he insisted we go tonight. We have arrangements to make, so stop clowning around!” Thoroughly scolded, Havoc hurried to his desk, while
Roy changed in record time.
As the team went to work, Roy noticed something—they were arguing less. Breda was consulting with Havoc while Fuery and Falman bounced ideas off Hawkeye. Maybe the team building had done more than frustrate the hell out of them. There was a comfort between them that had been absent before. And at the end of the day when Hawkeye fell asleep sitting straight in her chair, Havoc picked up her work and continued where she left off.
Like clockwork, the team’s search of the warehouse began. Havoc covered Breda while he searched the office, and Falman watched over the entrance. Fuery was stationed with the communication system up the hill from the warehouse, connected to Falman so they could be forewarned of any activity outside the building. Roy and Hawkeye would search the rest of the warehouse. If anything looked hidden or questionable, Roy wanted to be able to use his alchemy to flush it out.
The warehouse was an out of the way building with little security. If they were hiding something here, they weren’t concerned it would be found. The rows of shelving before Roy and Hawkeye looked perfectly ordinary in the small amount of light illuminating the room.
“There’s a strong…chemical smell,” Hawkeye said. He didn’t need to see her to know she was wrinkling her nose.
“Yes, I think it’s paint thinner.” No flames then. He tucked his gloves away. “Let’s split up. You go left, I go right. Meet in the middle?”
“Got it, sir.”
Gradually, Roy wound his way through the aisles, occasionally inspecting things physically. Across the silent room it was easy to hear Hawkeye doing the same. He was beginning to think the area was a dead end when he noticed some unusual etchings on the ground at the bottom of a shelf. Instincts coming alive, he started emptying the shelf of heavy buckets. And there it was, a secret entrance. The grip to pull the floorboards up was nothing more than a divot in the concrete floor.
“Oy! Hawkeye, come here!”
She was at his side in moments. “That looks promising,” she said mildly. “You want to do the honors?”
Roy nodded, squatting and heaving the slab up on its side. “Shit, that was heavy,” he grunted. He turned on his flashlight and was rewarded with the sight of a few dozen bars of gold, stacked in neat little rows inside the hidden pocket beneath the floor. Gold he was certain the company had not claimed as income that year.
“Perfect,” he said, dropping onto his stomach to see if anything else had been hidden with the gold.
“Careful, sir,” Hawkeye said. “Maybe let me look. I’m smaller.”
“You’re right,” he said, shuffling backward. The way the shelves were, he couldn’t even stand on his knees without hitting his head.
Once he was out of the way, Hawkeye wriggled under the shelf, and Roy couldn’t stop himself from watching her behind. He loved when she dressed down for assignments like these. The uniform was so boxy, it was difficult to make out her curves. Not that he
should be wanting to check out his subordinate, but it was inevitable.
“Huh, there might be a stack of papers stuck under one of these stacks, but it’s too heavy for me to move like this.” She dropped to her stomach. “Can you come hold the flashlight?”
Roy squeezed in beside her—and promptly kicked over a tin can.
“Shit! What is that!” he hissed as something cold and wet soaked through his shirt. “Not again!” And it smelled very potent.
“What did you knock over?” Hawkeye asked, turning on her side. “It reeks!”
“I think some paint thinner,” he admitted, scrambling to turn the can upright. Stupid thing definitely hadn’t been secured properly.
Then suddenly it was like Hawkeye couldn’t escape fast enough.
“Oh no. Uhh, sir! It’s burning!” she gasped, almost a whimper.
Roy took action. He grabbed her arm and hauled her out. “There was a washing area this way,” he said, practically dragging her to where’d he’d seen it.
The corner he’d seen had a drain and a basic hose for washing up paint spills, he suspected. There were buckets and mops littering the area, but he haphazardly kicked them out of the way.
“How much did you get on you?” he asked her. The smell was thick in his nose, but that was probably his own clothes stinking up the place. And shit, it was really starting to burn. What kind of chemicals did they use?
“All down my side,” she said tightly.
“Here, you rinse first,” he said, turning on the hose. He turned to pass it to her and almost dropped it. He was the luckiest man alive, covered in paint thinner, but still the luckiest man alive, because there was Riza Hawkeye stripping in front of him. He only got a quick glimpse before he averted his eyes, but he’d seen toned muscles and curves—and a plain black bra that was unduly sexy.
He didn’t have long to savor the sight before the skin irritation began to override everything else. He searched around for soap, trying not to look at the lieutenant. He swallowed. She had stripped down to her bra and underwear and she was dripping with cold water…
Burning skin brought him back to reality again. He found some soap and offered it to her blindly while looking off in the other direction.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Roy busied himself taking off his shirt—the same one he’d changed into earlier in the office, so at least it wasn’t one of his good shirts.
“Sir, you can share the water with me,” she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s best to wash it off as quickly as you can. I’ll lather myself up while you rinse off.”
“I—uh—should probably—"
“Do what you have to do,” she said, answering his question before he could fumble for the words.
He willed his erection to behave as he took a deep breath and undid the button on his pants.
Riza wished the water was a bit colder—something to remind her that she was in the middle of a stealth assignment with her superior officer, not half naked with a very attractive man. Why was he so muscular anyway?”
She felt him step closer, the heat of him radiating against her side. She let herself look at him briefly as she passed him the hose. His face was dark and tense, but he gave nothing else away, concentrating on washing himself.
Her eyes dropped lower, skimming down the lean muscles of his chest, darting quickly to the very prominent tent in his boxers. They were already wet from the cold water, and the cloth clung suggestively to his erection.
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and returned to cleaning the chemicals off. Her side was pink where the chemicals had soaked through her clothes—her hip and thigh had taken the worst of it. There was no room for lustful thoughts when they’d
made a mess of an otherwise very simple investigation. Already she wasn’t sure how they were going to explain this to the others.
After she had passed the soap to him while she rinsed hers off, he finally said something.
“The scarring doesn’t look as bad as I expected,” he whispered. “It’s healed well.”
Self-consciously, instinctively, she twirled to hide her back from him. It was a mistake. Now she was a few inches from him, looking up into his regretful dark eyes. All she wanted to do was close the gap and kiss him. Her hand clenched tightly on the hose as she talked herself down from doing anything foolish. He was her superior officer, and they both had goals more important than whatever feelings simmered between them.
“Don’t forget what relief those scars bring me,” she said. “I can see you torturing yourself about it again.”
He sighed. “That’s not the only thing torturing me.” He grabbed the hose from her, letting the water wash away the cheap soap he’d found. Her eyes were drawn below his waist again, this time unable to stop herself from inspecting the impressive bulge. She
shivered, goosebumps dancing across her skin.
“You’re staring, lieutenant,” he said, his voice husky.
She had no excuse. “I was just wondering how much longer you’ll be able to last,” she said, summoning her courage. She thought about what Vanessa had told her. “The sooner you give in…the sooner I can, too. And I am so tired, sir. It really is the only thing that helps me sleep.”
“So you’re saying, as your superior, it’s my duty to lose this competition so you can sleep? Because…” He paused to look her over, and boldly, she let him. She was proud of her body—it was strong and capable. “You’ll get more work done if I do, right?”
“I’m really at my best when I’m well rested,” she agreed, the words coming out breathless as she watched his hand dip down into his underwear, somehow managing to grab his cock without pushing the wet fabric out of the way. She wished fervently for a better view.
The moment he gave in to the first stroke, he let out a desperate, quiet moan. The relief of finally giving into it seemed to hit every part of him—his head fell back as the tension left his shoulders. And it was that word—relief—that brought to mind what she wanted to do for him.
“Sir,” she said, retreating to familiar patterns as she braved the unknown. “Permission to help give you some relief?” She dropped to her knees so there would be no mistaking her meaning.
In the dim light, there was nothing to see in his eyes but burning lust. “Please. Fuck. But I’m not going to last—” the rest was cut off in a gasp as she gently tugged his boxers out of the way, their hands lacing together across his cock as she held it steady and let her lips stretch across the head ever-so-slowly before she sucked him against her tongue, fighting not to gag as his hips thrust involuntarily forward. The taste of precum was salty and bitter on her tongue and told her this would be over too quickly.
Strange, she’d never really wanted to spend much time like this with others, but with him…she wanted to worship him.
Shaky fingers traced across her hair and she allowed herself to look up at him. It humbled her, the look of trust and bliss across his face as he watched her movements intently. She wanted to smile. Instead, she swirled her tongue around his tip playfully, and listened to him groan as she focused on getting him to come.
She learned that when Roy Mustang came it was with the same quiet intensity he used while drawing arrays.
There was no time for awkward conversation because barely a moment after finishing washing up, Havoc and Breda came looking for them. Mustang immediately threw a tarp over Riza while he hurried off to explain the situation. Their laughter was short-lived, as Riza heard the muffled sound of Mustang barking orders at them.
He returned with Breda and Havoc—both of them shirtless, but Mustang was slipping on Breda’s shirt which was at least long enough to give him a bit more modesty. Riza dressed beneath the tarp, grateful that Havoc was tall enough that his shirt fell to a very modest length.
Even accounting for the paint thinner incident, the team managed to pull together all the evidence needed for a solid case to present to General Grumman.
Finished, they all packed into one car for the sake of being inconspicuous. As they all crowded in, there was a quiet moment where nothing was said.
“Maybe Fuery and Falman should take off an item of clothing each too. Just to be fair,” Havoc joked.
“And roll down the windows. That paint thinner smells poisonous!” Breda added.
The laughter from the team eased Riza’s nerves. No one had said an unprofessional word about her or her body, or the fact she and Mustang had been alone in their underwear.
Her thighs pressed together remembering the feel of him in her mouth, even as embarrassment flooded her. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking. Weeks of poor sleep caught up to her. And Mustang had undoubtedly been on his last ounce of willpower.
It could never happen again.
She drove them back to their meetup point, anxious to get home and sleep. It was now past three in the morning. It wasn’t until she was trudging up the stairs to her apartment that a painful realization struck: she still couldn’t fall asleep her usual way. Her crutch was still out of reach. At work the next day, Mustang would have to mark himself out. It would raise the men’s suspicions too much if she marked herself out the same night. Especially after they’d spent the whole evening working late. She would have to wait until tomorrow night.
She cursed under her breath, deciding to take a long shower to wash the remaining smell of paint thinner away. It would be a cold, lonely shower.
Despite his exhaustion, Roy lay awake, torn between elation and guilt. Finally, finally he’d had a sample of what it would be like to be Riza Hawkeye’s lover. Of course, it happened in less than ideal conditions. He was so disoriented from his orgasm, he’d forgotten to so much as kiss her. He was a cad.
But he was dying to return the favor.
He toyed with the idea of leaving her alone, writing off the incident at the warehouse as the result of fumes and hormones. From what he knew of Hawkeye, she’d accept this without question. It would be the wisest choice. The idea also sent a wave of regret through him. He couldn’t stop this thing between them before it was even fully off the ground. Before he kissed her properly.
He decided to leave it in Hawkeye’s hands. She knew how to keep him on the right path better than himself. Though he might nudge her in the direction he desired.
The team assembled in the office slowly, all armed with coffee. Roy was the last to arrive, and upon seeing Hawkeye his mind immediately reminded him of how she had looked half naked and wet. Something about her proper, professional demeanor at the office made it so much hotter that he knew what amazing things she could do with her mouth. It was a dirty secret between them—and he loved it.
“Does anyone else still smell paint thinner?” Breda asked, stifling a yawn.
Roy strolled over to the chalkboard slowly, delaying the inevitable ribbing. “I’m pretty sure I’ve become desensitized to it,” he said.
“Me too,” Hawkeye said. “I think something was off about it, too. I looked at my shirt from last night and it seemed to be eating a hole through the fabric.”
Roy made a note to take a look at his own clothes when he went home.
He studied the chalkboard, brow creasing as he saw there was no mark beside Hawkeye’s name. Even after she knew he’d lost…
He drew the “X” with pride, knowing that he had lost this challenge the best possible way.
It took only a second for the team to notice. There was an immediate uproar.
“Our fallen leader,” Breda said, wiping a fake tear away.
“So what brought you down, boss?” Havoc asked slyly. His eyes flickered to Hawkeye. Havoc wasn’t stupid enough to say it out loud, but he knew Roy and Hawkeye had both been in their underwear—sharing a single hose with only moderate water pressure.
Roy had prepared an answer. “I just needed some…relief.”
The men all laughed, but Hawkeye crossed her arms and wore the smallest of smiles, ever the humble champion.
An idea came to Roy then.
“Now, by the rules of the competition, Hawkeye is the last one standing. But to truly win…maybe she should try to last the rest of the month.”
Her expression turned horrified for a fraction of a second before she smothered it.
“Really?” she asked flatly.
Havoc and Fuery each gave her nervous looks. Everyone was especially tired today, and Hawkeye was already tired.
“What, not sure you can hold off another week?” Roy asked lightly.
She clenched her jaw. “I can make it.”
Checkmate, Hawkeye.
Roy finally got a moment alone with Hawkeye on the way to a meeting together.
“So you really didn’t…indulge at all?” Roy asked lowly, trying to ignore the wilting of his pride. He reminded himself that women had moods, and just because a mood arrived, didn’t mean it lingered. While she’d definitely looked willing and debauched on her
knees in the warehouse, she’d been all business the moment Breda and Havoc arrived.
And though he was awake for an hour replaying the vision of her mostly naked, it didn’t mean she was compelled to do the same.
“No. I didn’t want them to suspect something happened between us,” she said matter-of-factly.
Right. She was too honest to lie, even for a ridiculous team building exercise.
“I see,” he said.
“I would have indulged tonight, but someone suggested I see this competition through to the end,” she said coldly.
He glanced back as he heard her yawn. Her eyes were puffy, her skin a little paler than normal. Maybe he shouldn’t have goaded her into holding off another week.
Riza attempted going to bed early that night. She took a warm, relaxing bath with a few scented candles burning. She did her stretches for her back slowly, willing her body to relax, turned the light off, and crawled into bed, aching for sleep. And something else, if she was honest with herself.
Her mind refused to shut off.
How bad would it be to give in? She was so tired. Any teasing would be worth the rest. And she was thinking about her superior again, the quiet intensity as he lost himself to pleasure, the soft touch of his hand across her face…
She rubbed her thighs together, biting her lip. What good would she be at work tomorrow if she was half asleep? Her fingers edged toward the waistband of her underwear, craving that rush of heat that would spread through her body, leaving her blissfully relaxed.
The phone rang.
Cursing powerfully, she jumped out of bed to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hawkeye!” a drunken voice yelled into her ear. There was a lot of laughter and voices in the background.
She covered her face, twitching in annoyance. “Havoc! What do you want? I’m trying to get to sleep!”
“Exactly! I made a bet with Breda that you would make it through the rest of the month! Don’t be—don’t be doing anything you shouldn’t, young lady!”
“Excuse me?” she growled into the phone.
“You heard me!”
There was the sound of a scuffle, and a loud clanking as the phone was probably dropped.
“Hawkeye! Don’t listen to him! You do what you need to fall asleep. You deserve it!” Breda’s voice said, equally drunk.
“I’m hanging up.”
“Be strong, lieutenant!” Havoc bellowed, loud enough she heard it even holding the phone away from her ear.
It was another very long, restless night of little sleep.
Riza made sure to drop the stack of books onto Havoc’s desk as loudly as she could. She gave him a vengeful smile as he winced and massaged his temples. He didn’t show up at the office until after lunch.
“So, you and Breda went drinking last night?” she asked conversationally.
“Sorry, Hawkeye. I have a lot of cenz riding on this!”
“I’m going to the range,” she said. “You are going to take care of all of my duties while I’m gone, or I will make sure you lose that bet.”
“Fine,” he agreed, sullen.
She stalked out of the room, arguing with herself about the immorality in their team. Masturbation competitions. Gambling. Fraternization. She flushed with guilt. How could she keep Mustang on the right path if she wavered at temptation?
Roy followed Hawkeye, telling the team he was going to make sure she didn’t fall asleep at the range and shoot someone on accident. And she really was dangerously tired—she didn’t notice he was following her until he called to her.
“Hawkeye, you’re dead on your feet, come with me,” he said, nudging her away from the gun range.
“Sir, I’m not going home—”
“I’m not sending you home. Come on, I know a place,” he said, bestowing her with his most dazzling grin.
She looked at him, and he knew her temper was boiling beneath the surface. “What kind of place?”
He lowered his voice. “A very quiet and private place.” He had taken countless naps there himself.
She quirked an eyebrow. “Is this where you disappear to some afternoons?”
“I admit nothing,” he said. And he had more than one napping place, but this one he was willing to share with Hawkeye.
“And you’re showing it to me…why?”
He thought about how worn down she was, looking as if she’d fall asleep in her chair. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d challenged her to continue holding off. He only hoped a nap could see her through the day.
“I owe you one,” he said.
She jutted out her chin for a moment longer as he waited for her temper to either burst or simmer down. His eyes landed on her lips, thinking of what they might be able to do in such a quiet place together…
Her expression softened as she smiled at him.
“All right. Just this once,” she said, falling into step behind him.
He led them toward the accounting department’s storage room. Unlike other departments, they had to store files for ten years before they could be destroyed. Roy had come poking around for a corrupt official’s spending records when he discovered the
accountants maintained a room with a cot for their annual audit. It was apparently an arduous event, and many of them pulled all-nighters. But the rest of the year, the room was unused—except by him.
Around a row of cabinets, out of view from the door, was a simple cot. No blankets or anything, but comfortable enough for some sleep.
“It’s not much, but it’s very private,” Roy said. A strange thrill ran through him, the same kind he got whenever he cornered a criminal, or was about to put his opponent in check. He turned to Hawkeye, and his mouth fell open. She was stripping in front of him
for the second time in less than a week. She hung her jacket carefully across a cabinet, then began unbuttoning her pants.
He stared.
“You better look while you can,” she teased, revealing her long, bare legs. “Just this once, remember?”
Roy struggled to breathe, replaying the conversation they’d had in the hallway. He’d said—and she thought he meant—
Well, he always was quick on his feet.
“Right. Just this once,” he said. He’d set himself on fire before correcting her mistake. “Do you want me to—?” He gestured to his own jacket. He wasn’t sure, but if this was a quid pro quo thing, he didn’t need to undress, although they had both been mostly
naked back at the warehouse...
“Maybe just your jacket,” she said, confirming his assumption.
He slipped his off quickly, throwing it haphazardly to the ground while Hawkeye folded her pants carefully.
“Sir, it will wrinkle,” she scolded him with a flirty smirk, moving toward the jacket.
“Sorry,” he said distractedly, taking in the exposed skin of her thighs. He couldn’t look away as she bent down to retrieve the jacket, laying it neatly atop the cabinet beside hers.
If this was his only opportunity…
He strode forward, his hands palming her hips and pulling her flush against him. She peered up at him, her breath as shallow as his.
“Is this okay?” he found himself asking, aware that his cock was misbehaving, but he would control himself. It was her turn now. He owed her so much—more than a hurried tryst in a storage room. He would do whatever she wanted.
“Yes,” she murmured, melting against him. It felt so good, so right, to have her in his arms.
“Last time, I didn’t even get to kiss you and—and—that’s just unfair,” he said, eyeing her parted lips with desperation.
She took mercy on him and stood on her toes, pulling him down by the nape of his neck to crush their lips together. She kissed with the same thoroughness she approached her job, and he responded with everything he had—a vain need to show her what a good, considerate lover he would be. He was overly eager to impress her.
He let his hands wander across her ass, giving a quick squeeze that made her gasp deliciously into his mouth. Then he worked his thumbs into the soft fabric of her underwear, tugging them off until there was nothing but skin below her waist. Tracing his hands lower, he squeezed again at the top of her thighs and was rewarded with her moan.
He nudged her back until she reclined on the cot, her legs trembling. Her eyes watched him carefully, half open but full of lust.
“Open your legs for me,” he said, the words more a command then a request.
She let her legs fall apart, gifting him with a surprisingly dainty whimper. One hand covered herself shyly, and it about broke him. His lovely, confident lieutenant afraid for him to see her—when she had to know what he planned to do.
Resting a hand on her thin ankle, he waited as she took a few gasps. He leaned down to kiss her knee, dragging his lips toward her inner thigh where he felt the heat radiating from her center. Her breaths grew ragged with anticipation.
“Roy—no one has ever—” she whispered, panting, still blocking his view with her hand.
“I don’t have to,” he said, choosing his words deliberately. It made sense now why she was being uncharacteristically shy. “But I am fucking dying to taste you and feel you come on my tongue.”
She made an unintelligible noise. “Okay,” she choked out. She moved her hand, and he let his fingers explore her first, caressing them over her folds.
“Let me know if I do something you don’t like,” he said, before slipping two fingers straight inside her. She was already so wet, he imagined if it was his cock, she would’ve taken it beautifully. She moaned as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, but her
eyes remained watchful, expectant.
He understood. She wanted to know when he would use his mouth.
He took a moment to consider what she might like best, then he lowered his head slowly, keeping his gaze locked on hers. His tongue found her clit immediately, and he pressed hard against it.
She cried out, quickly muffling it with her hand. He grinned against her, then began licking and sucking interchangeably. Her legs shook violently around him, her encouraging, high pitched gasps seemed connected by a string to his erection, making him painfully hard. He began thrusting his fingers into her rhythmically, the same pace he would fuck her if he could. If he wasn’t her superior. If he had nothing to atone for.
He matched his tongue’s pace to his fingers, and she clenched down around him.
“Oh god. Just like that—don’t stop,” she sobbed. He was shocked at how close she was already. Then she was pulsing around him with a final blissful moan. She grasped the collar of his shirt and pulled until they were close enough to share a sloppy, passionate kiss.
He watched her eyelids flutter shut with sleep, so he surreptitiously adjusted his erection so that it was more comfortable before cramming in beside her in the cot meant for one. She snuggled into him like it was something they had always done, her head tucked under his chin. His heart twisted realizing how fleeting the moment would be.
Even after she fell asleep, he could still taste her on his tongue.
Riza woke up in a haze of perfect contentment until she realized her head was resting on Mustang’s chest. Oh no. How could they have been so reckless? And on military property. The sleep deprivation was affecting her reasoning.
Still, she didn’t move. Mustang had fallen asleep as well, and his arm was across her back. She peeked down and saw his jacket draped across her naked lower half. Her body throbbed with the memory of what his tongue had done. Oh my—if she had known what it would be like…
No. She couldn’t go down that path. The only reason she had stayed in the military was to support his goals and work toward whatever atonement she could grasp. She couldn’t help him as a regular citizen, and as long as she was in the military, a relationship was impossible.
She chided herself for such a leap—Mustang hadn’t mentioned a relationship. It was just raging sexual tension burning out of control once they had no other outlets thanks to that stupid competition.
Or so she wanted to convince herself.
“Lieutenant, I’m surprised you haven’t marched me at gunpoint back to the office,” he said, startling her.
She pushed up on her elbow. “At this rate, I think it’s best we lie low. We’ve been gone too long.”
“I’ll think of some excuse,” he assured her. “I also…wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go the rest of the month. You won fair and square.”
Riza smiled. “I appreciate that—but why the hell did you do it in the first place?”
He gave her a sheepish look. “Mostly to watch you squirm.”
She reached out and pinched his arm.
“Ow! You are becoming very insubordinate, you know that?”
She shrugged. “Someone has to keep you in line.”
“Better a pinch than a bullet, I guess,” he grumbled, exaggeratedly nursing his arm.
“Want me to kiss it better?” she found herself asking—quite without her more sensible side’s permission.
Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears, and she was aware of every point their bodies were touching. She was completely naked below the waist, and now that she knew how good he was with his mouth…
“Riza,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “Do you want this as much as I do?”
“Probably more,” she said. No matter how much she tried, she never stopped wanting Roy Mustang.
“But we shouldn’t,” he said sharply. Reprimanding himself or her, it didn’t matter. He was right.
“No. We can’t risk it.” She inhaled, relishing his scent. He always smelled so good, even back during his apprentice days in her father’s house. “Maybe…one day,” she said, her voice thin with the barest of hope for that future.
“Holding out makes it so much better, doesn’t it? The longer we have to wait to be together…” he trailed off.
“We’ll still be together,” she reminded him. “Not like this,” wrapped together like happy lovers, “but together.”
She shifted, preparing to stand and dress, when she felt something irresistible pressing into her abdomen. He had taken care of her needs, ignoring his own. Like always.
Suddenly she didn’t want to wait around for the timing to be right. Holding out was overrated.
Under normal circumstances, Roy thought of himself as a logical man. He wanted to be a man of honor, a man who could walk the straight and narrow no matter the obstacles. A man who would never seduce his female subordinate.
He had never considered his subordinate would seduce him.
“Sir, you really can’t go back to the office like this,” Hawkeye said softly as her hand wriggled between them to cup his erection.
“Ah, yes, a consequence of being pressed against you—” he couldn’t finish his thought. She twisted herself until she hovered over him, straddling his hips.
Dimly, he saw her kick his uniform jacket onto the floor. “Won’t it wrinkle?” he asked, voice strained.
“Do you care?” She pulled her shirt over her head. Her glorious breasts momentarily distracted him as her bra went next.
“No. But I’m confused. We just said—”
“You really think we can ignore this for however many years it takes to reach your goals?” She countered, working on the buttons of his shirt.
His hands, moving with a mind of their own, glided up and down her thighs. “I thought you’d keep me in line.”
“If your insane brainchild has taught us anything, our team works best when we are satisfied and well rested. And you and I both know we already get distracted by one another.” She leaned down to kiss him, and her naked breasts, soft against his chest, sent
him a bit farther into madness. She sucked on his tongue, doing such obscene things with it that he nearly forgot to keep up his feeble argument.
“You’re all about efficiency, is that it?” he asked. “Fraternization be damned?”
“I’m not saying we do this all the time. Just whenever the tension gets to be too much, and we need…relief.”
He swallowed thickly. “I really like this idea.”
“Me too.” She ground down on his erection, her lips near his ear. “If I had known how good it was to have your mouth between my thighs, I would never have lasted this long.”
His mind toyed with a devious idea. His sweet, delicious lieutenant was asking for him to make her come with his mouth again. And if she had never experienced that, surely she had never…
“You up for a little…adventure?”
“What did you have in mind?” She nibbled at his neck, each touch zinging to his cock. He knew she would probably need some enticement, so he slipped his hand between her legs, her core already slick. He sank two fingers into her, grinning like an idiot when she thrust her body down onto them. His thumb rubbed circles on her clit as she squirmed on him.
Her breaths accelerated in time with his own. Willing himself to slow down, he changed the pace to lazy circles.
“Turn around,” he whispered. “I want to be inside your mouth while I taste you at the same time.”
He waited, gauging her reaction. He felt his heart constrict at the foreign shy expression on her face.
“That seems…tricky,” she said after a beat.
“You’ll be on top, so you can stop anytime.”
“Oh. If you were on top—” She squeezed down on his fingers, her eyes a dark amber. So she liked that idea? Maybe another time. He wouldn’t last long with her eager mouth beneath him. He wasn’t going to last long as it was. And the thought of having her
another time was too much to think about.
“You seemed to really like my mouth on you earlier,” he reminded her, hoping to provoke her into bravery.
With a determined huff, she pulled away, his wet fingers sliding across her legs as he helped her flip around, one knee landing gracefully by his shoulder. He was dying to taste her, dying to have her helplessly moaning around a mouthful of his cock. She made short work of his pants, and he grunted as she wrapped her hand around him. He grabbed her hips, positioning her a bit roughly into place so he could tug her down and clamp down on her clit.
Her thighs quaked around him and just as he hoped, she moaned wantonly as she sucked his erection as deep as she could, her tongue teasing him.
But he didn’t want her focused on him. Sure, she was a goddess with that sharp tongue of hers, but he wanted her mindless with desire. He needed to see her fall apart before he finally claimed her body.
Roy couldn’t deny her trust in him was half the turn on, her beautiful folds spread out for him to see. He spread her legs apart farther, enjoying her gasp as he angled her just a bit differently and plunged his fingers into her again. He knew she liked that extra stimulation, and with this new angle he could do a lot.
In retaliation, she added more suction and his answering moan, vibrating against her, made her grind gently against his mouth. Her inhibitions were gone, her groans gaining almost too much volume, and her focus on him faltered to sporadic licks as she
distractedly worked him up and down.
He filled with pride as she finally had to release him, her breaths high and labored.
“Oh god. Roy. Please—”
He almost shushed her she grew so loud, but he would risk the end of his career to hear her cry his name while she tipped over the edge.
“Roy,” she whimpered, her head falling onto his thigh as she went limp, perfectly relaxed.
He eased her onto her side, trying to give her a moment to catch her breath even as his cock begged for attention.
Then Hawkeye looked at him, and he realized he was now the focus of all her discipline and strength as a soldier. She twirled around, licking her swollen lips as she climbed over him, a lithe and seductive predator. She dragged her wet folds along his stiff
hardness, and he reflexively bucked his hips, needing more.
She kept teasing him.
“Lieutenant,” he groaned. “Are you trying to torture me for information?”
She laughed softly before kissing him deeply. “What information would I be looking for?” she asked, finally—finally—inching her way down his erection.
Busy exploring her body, paying particular attention to her breasts, he forgot to answer. Then he could think of nothing else as she slid down his cock, wrapping him tightly in wet heat. He loved how confident she was, more in her element as she took control
of his pleasure, finding a rhythm that made him tense from his stomach to his toes.
“I always thought you’d be a dirty talker,” she said, brushing the tips of her breasts against his chest as she spoke into his ear.
He was intrigued. “Oh? You think about this a lot?”
“Most nights,” she said, letting her hands roam. He sighed when they combed through his messy hair.
“I thought you’d be more shy,” he panted. “And here you are—fuck—yeah, I can’t talk much when you do that.” He groaned, rock hard inside her, as she began to thrust faster.
“Whatever fantasies I’ve had of you…this is so much better,” she said, drawing him into another kiss.
And that’s when he knew he was in trouble. She was right. This was better. Better than anything else in his life. Because he was in love with her. There was no doubt she loved him too.
He shuddered under her attentions, knowing that he was undeserving of her loving touches, but not caring. Whatever she would give him, he would take.
A grunt escaped him as she quickened the pace, his own thrusts jostling her.
“I’m—I’m close,” he warned her, his balls tightening in that pleasant way it always did right before he came.
“Go ahead—if you want,” she moaned, sinking all the way down, unmistakably giving her permission.
“Almost,” he said, sneaking a hand to her clit and circling it until she came around him with a cry of elation that he stifled with his lips.
And oh hell, it was euphoric, fusing their mouths together and holding her waist in place as he came deep inside her, pulsing over and over. She held still as he softened inside her, and he treasured the sticky mess connecting them.
They broke apart and he kissed her shoulder, damp with sweat, as they rearranged themselves into a more comfortable position on the cot.
“Well, if anyone heard us, they are too afraid to interrupt,” he said at last. He was going to have to find an excuse to top all excuses to give the rest of the team.
“I tried to be quiet,” she said, a hint of petulance in her voice.
“And I tried to make you scream,” he countered, grinning ear to ear. It earned him a shove that almost knocked him out of the cot.
Later, they dressed in companionable silence
“Maybe…we can do this again when you get your next promotion?” she offered with a smirk. “Would that motivate you?”
It really would. “Unless you ask for it sooner,” he challenged, buttoning his shirt.
“I’ll hold out as long as I can, sir,” she said, her dutiful adjutant persona reappearing. “You get that promotion as soon as you can.” She sidled up to him, making his heart race. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Riza arrived early to work, marking herself out on the chalkboard with a barely suppressed smile. Then she waited for the others to arrive. Havoc shuffled in first.
“What! Hawkeye!” Havoc yelled in disbelief, dropping his bag to the floor. “You couldn’t hold out a little bit longer?”
Riza paused her reading. “No.”
“Damn it, I never should’ve bet against Breda.”
“If it’s any consolation, I already finished the report you left half done. Thanks for covering for me yesterday.” She looked back down at the document, aiming for casual. But she could practically hear Havoc making the connection.
“Right. Where did you and Mustang disappear to all afternoon?” Havoc scratched at his chin.
“The accounting department,” she said crisply, following Mustang’s carefully crafted excuse.
“You were there for ages. Did it not go well?”
She couldn’t resist. “No, it went very well. Mustang was just very thorough.”
“I did hear a rumor yesterday—I can’t wait to tell the boss.”
“A rumor?” Mustang asked, as if he could appear whenever anyone mentioned him. He swept over to his desk, plunking a briefcase on top.
Riza tensed, afraid there were rumors of a certain lieutenant colonel and his adjutant brazenly breaking fraternization laws.
“Some of the secretaries were talking—including Grumman’s. Rumor has it a certain Flame Alchemist is being put up for a promotion to colonel.”
Riza felt her body flush pleasantly as Mustang’s eyes darted to her. He looked incredibly smug.
“I wonder when it will be official,” Mustang said. “I should drop by Grumman’s for one of our chess games—see if he talks.”
“Until it’s official, it doesn’t count,” Riza said, although she was already anticipating celebrating his promotion in a proper bed…
“I’ll be sure to ask Grumman for it to be expedited,” he said, staring at her a little too intently. Havoc watched with amusement.
“Good idea,” she said. She returned to her work.
“Boss, have you noticed Hawkeye seems well rested today?” Havoc asked, still watching them closely.
Mustang’s grin could not have been more arrogant, but he played it off like it was because she gave in before the month was out.
“You know, she does. Release a little tension, lieutenant?”
Riza didn’t look up, acting absorbed in her work. “Yes, sir. Four times, in fact.” Three with Mustang, and once before bed.
It was worth confessing just to watch him and Havoc practically swallow their tongues.
“Being a woman means not only can I hold out longer when I choose to, I can also…” she searched for the word, “produce more. It’s a pity the military doesn’t utilize women more. We are very efficient.”
“Is that a challenge?” Mustang asked, popping his knuckles.
“No, no, no, you get your evil ideas under control!” Havoc said. “No more!”
And while Mustang assured Havoc he was joking, Riza heard the promise in his voice. Round two between them was going to be unforgettable.