A ficlet that I wrote for my dear friend. Originally intended it to be pure smut, but it went the other way as I listened to this incredibly sad song.
Title: The Last Night.
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist.
Pairing: Roy X Riza
Summary: They spent one night together. Only one night.
The Last Night.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Riza put her finger through the ear of the ceramic cup and lifted it up to her lips. She slowly tipped the near-scalding black coffee into her mouth. The strong, spicy aroma filled her nostrils as she closed her eyes, and the wheels in her mind started to turn, ever so slowly.
It tasted bitter and sweet, dark and intense all at the same time.
Yes, it was like that.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Roy placed his trembling hands on her face, gently pulled her face in and touched her quivering lips. Before she could respond to the fear-filled kiss, he pulled away and looked down. The contact was so warm, so brief and so bitter-sweet that her heart ached.
"Riza, we don't have to do this," he said quietly.
She paused for a moment, shifted herself nearer to him and softly wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Roy," she leaned her head against his, I love you. So much. Too much.
He closed his eyes, took in her crisp, clean scent and had it imprinted in his mind. She smells like this.
The Flame Alchemist rubbed his cheek against hers, planted a kiss on it, then another on her cold earlobe, then another on her soft jaw, then another on her neck... and he recalled the times that they have went through during the Ishbal war. How strong she was, how cool and collected she was, how weird she looked among all the dead bodies lying on the blood-pooled ground. And while Riza tried to open his outer jacket with her shaky hands, he flipped the buttons of her white shirt with experienced, blood-stained hands and thought of the times she had protected him with her life.
She was his saviour, his most-trusted aide, his sanity and his anchor.
Roy pushed the thin white shirt down her shoulders, and placed another burning kiss on the smooth pale skin. She squirmed a little, because all these; his warmth, his kisses, his body, his tenderness, his attention, his hidden pain were too much for her. Yet she longed for it, the way deserts craved for rain. Riza finally got his jacket out of the way, proceeded to pull the top over his head, and shrugged out from her own shirt anxiously, the way thunder boomed right after the lightning had lit up the skies.
They looked at each other's bodies for a while; she trying to memorize the lines of his firm muscles, and he trying to remember that she really, really like white. White; the colour of his unstained alchemy gloves, the colour of her ironed shirt, the colour of her fresh bra, the colour of white-hot sparks, the colour of a lone white rose that he had once given her-
Roy leaned forward a little, kissed her as carefully and passionately as he could, for he knew that she was inexperienced and that it was also precious to him. So precious that he was scared that she might burst into flames right before him. Riza parted her lips for him, her heart beating in fear, in excitement, in trepidation and in happiness to what she had wanted for so long and what would happen later. His kiss was so needy, so possessive, so afraid and so painful that she pressed herself against him, because that was the only thing she dared to do.
He halted the kiss, breathing heavily, and whispered as his lips brushed against her swollen ones, "Riza... I..."
Riza nodded, because she trusted him. And because her skin felt so electric, that the contact of their near-naked bodies seem to be on fire. Sweet, white-hot, dark fire that made her head spun when his hands caressed the sides of her breasts, and then to the small of her back, and then up to loosen the clasp of her white cotton bra. But he did not remove it; instead, his hands cupped her still-covered breasts and stayed there.
"Riza." And her mind melted away at his deep, husky voice.
He gave them a soft squeeze, and she heard a faraway moan that sounded suspiciously like herself. Roy smiled a little at her closed eyes and red lips; she was always so beautiful in his eyes, and so cold and so hot that it confused him in a weird, longing way. He thought of the way she stood proudly beside him, the way she religiously cleaned her guns every morning, the way she tried not to smile when he purposefully made a fool out of himself...
Her hands found their way up to his nipples, and he shivered at the innocent yet curious way she explored his body with her feather-like fingers. His groin tightened and a part of his mind wished that those pair of hands would move down, down, down-
She knew that she moaned again, when he divested her bra in one smooth flick and when his hands were roughly fondling her breasts. Her nipples felt painfully sore and sensitive, and she arched up a little when one of his finger made a circle around the pinkish spot. When he did the same thing to the other, and then started to knead them so expertly, she wanted to jump out from her skirt. Instead, she fumbled with the thick cords of his draw-string pants, inwardly cursing at her suddenly-turned clumsy fingers.
"Oh!" Roy blew on her hardened nipples and she wanted to smack his head for that tease. But when she felt his hot lips on her nipples, when his tongue flicked at the buds ruthlessly, and when he started to suck and pull while his hands were attending to the other, she felt like coming there and then.
"Don't stop," he commanded her in between his administrations to her assets and jerked a little when her hands brushed against his erection. Riza's eyes snapped open at the hard bulge. Although she could not see anything, since Roy was busy with her chest, her mouth opened a little.
Never had she thought that something like this would happen. Having sex with the Colonel that was. In a slightly confused, whirl-like yet curious state, she touched the bulge again. It felt so hard, so warm (even through the underwear) and a little wet too. She wondered whether this was more hurting than the pain he felt, deep inside his soul and his heart.
Roy could not take it anymore, her caresses were driving him crazy, and possibly animalistic. He pushed a stunned her down to his bed, pulled his pants down with his boxers, freed his stone-hard penis and tugged at her skirt while tearing her panties at the same time. She was so pure, so virgin, like the rose that he had given her.
Like the rose that would wilt under the black night of him.
She felt a smidgen of fear at the indescribable look in his good eye, but that was quickly pushed to the back of his mind when Roy crawled over her and pressed his body down on hers.
It felt good. So good that she thought it was heavenly. She parted her legs just a little, but he did not rush into it.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
The First Lieutenant placed the fragile cup back onto its saucer and stared at the rippling contents.
Yes, it was also earth-shaking, mind-smattering, and so terrible and so angry and so heart-twisting.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Roy slowly and sensually moved his hands from her shoulders, down the sides of her breasts, down to her waist, tracing her curves and stopped at her small hips. He would remember all these; he had to. She was his most precious memory, other than Maes. He loved both of them, so much that he simply had to remember.
He lightly brushed across the soft tuft of hair that covered her privates, and she clapped her hand over her mouth when his finger rubbed the super-sensitive spot. He collected the sweet liquid on his finger as he continued to rub, in circles, in maddening circles until she thought she might go crazy from all these teasing and rubbing.
But that was so him, so Roy.
So she said nothing and merely parted her legs further apart. She squirmed again when he sucked hard on her nipple, rubbed his face across her breasts and inserted his finger into the forbidden crevice. She felt so hot, so soft yet so inviting that he yearned to just thrust into her like a mad dog and forget about everything that had happened before this. Now was about their past and present, now was about their first and last love-making session, now was about her and he and her and he and her and he-
It did not matter that he had lost his left eye, it did not matter that he would be soon demoted, it did not matter that she might not be able to see him again.
Riza was so willing, so quiet, so giving that his heart ached a little when she moaned again. Her skin was so firm, so strong, so fair that it shone under the weak moonlight that filtered through the blinds. He pulled out his finger, sucked on it and kissed her as hard as he could. Riza responded in a wild, crazed manner as she locked her restless legs over him, bringing their sexes together.
And both hissed, audibly into each other's dry mouth.
He caressed her face, looked into her eyes and pleaded for release. Her forehead was damp with perspiration, her hair was mussed and her eyelashes fluttered a little as she gave her permission with a well-understood blink.
Roy pushed in, ever so slowly, whilst her walls expand and stretch over the foreign object; so big, so huge, so thick, so hot, so demanding, so urging, so invasive-
She let out a muffled voice, because he had quickly placed his mouth over hers the moment he heard her cry.
The Flame Alchemist had heard many of such cries, from physical pain, from emotional pain, and from mental torture. He really did not want to associate this damned thought with this precious night, because Time was slipping around the sides of their entwined bodies, was disappearing with the coming dawn, was ending Itself soon before she woke up. So he waited, with abated breath as he tried his darn best not to thrust into her like some savage animal that he had been during the war.
Tears silently coursed down her face, and he made no move to kiss them away. It was as if he was trying to tell, to say, or to hint that he would not always be there for her, with her in the future. Pain was a necessity, could not be avoided, and she had to learn to be tougher to survive on her own.
Roses, have blood-drawing thorns afterall.
Then slowly, when he knew that her pain was already something of the past, he started to move, slowly and rhythmically as he locked his fingers with hers, pinning her arms down to the soft covers of his bed. And when her hips started to buck, up and down, up and down, his heart went up and down, up and down too, like a roller-coaster that was carrying too much emotional baggage.
And when he drove into her, harder, faster, slammed his balls against her, louder, greedier, his heart ached, so painfully, so terribly, at the thoughts that he would not see her again. Tears streaked down his face as he fought to control his emotions and shaky hands. He leaned his forehead against hers, and realized that she was tearing again.
Roy wanted to cry out loud, wanted to shout into the dead night, wanted to call her name, but he merely bit his tongue and increased his speed and tempo as Riza eventually cried out in her release. The orgasm was so intense, so angry that her heart twisted about itself, because it was so similar to Roy. She could taste her tears, or was it his?
She never knew that her first would be so heart-breaking, so mind-blowing and so... soul-giving at the same time. She was scared, of the unknown that he was silently conveying to her in his actions, in his unspoken words, and in his lost tears.
He never stopped, and soon came and collapsed onto a weak and drained Riza.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Using the same finger, she swiped the leftover coffee off from the place where her lips had touched, and thought that yes, it left an indelible mark on her mind, too.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Roy propped himself up on one arm, and gazed affectionately at her.
She was everything to him, and he wanted to apologize.
But he did not, because she was sleeping so soundly, with her lips slightly parted and her long blond hair all over her half-covered shoulders. Roy stretched out his forefinger, smoothed it over her lower lip, up the corners of her mouth, down to her chin, up her jaw, down the back of her ear as he pushed back a lock of stray hair.
He told himself, that he would think of this image, later. Later, later, later-
The darkness in his room, was fading away. Soon, the odd-coloured light would fill up his room.
He pulled up the covers on her, and got dressed into his military uniform. He tucked the pretty pocketwatch, which once signified his status as the National State Alchemist, which once had gotten him into bloodshed, which once had caused his left eye to go blind, into his jacket and put on his white, oh, the white rose, gloves.
Light was starting to creep into the room, Dawn was slowly tip-toeing while Time shuffled forward. Soon, his time would be up.
Roy knelt by the bedside, noticed the salt trails on her rosy cheeks, and knew that his numbed heart had not died, yet. Soon, it would be. He forced himself, to pull away from her and not to leave anymore behind. No goodbye kisses, no. He was never such a person, Riza would understand.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her, as early as he could remember, as deep as he could ever fathom, and as long as her love for him lived.
Time knocked on his door, as he squinted his eyes at the sunlight peeping through the blinds.
He locked himself in his bathroom, sat on a chair, and loaded her pistol. He hated to use hers, but the Military had confiscated his. So as he locked the image of her face, he apologized to all the people who had died under his alchemy, to his unknown family, to his subordinates, and finally to her.
"Riza." And he released the trigger.
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::
Riza did not finish the rest of her coffee as people started to clear up the mess, on the grimy walls, on the shiny tiled floor, on the creaky wooden chair. She was led to another room, by who she did not know, but it did not matter.
She could taste him, feel his warmth, remember his pain, and see his love for her. She had to lose him, again, for the second time.
The First Lieutenant could not cry. She sat on the cold, hard plastic chair until Night came. Until Light disappeared. Until Time blew its whisper across her face, persuading her, urging her, hurrying her forward.
Riza smiled a little at the other pistol, and greeted Death as she released the trigger.