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lynneshobbydomain · 5 years ago

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Vengeance Chapter Five

(I hope no one minds the early update, but due to a paper that I have to get done on Saturday, I thought it was best to post this now as I won’t have time to write until Sunday. As always thank you @sinfulwonders for your beta-reading and thank you sunflower_8 (do you even have a tumblr, where are you?) for helping me as well. You two are so lovely and I’m so grateful. Thank you thank you. Thank you for reading, for reblogging, and for liking my chapters as well. You’re all so kind.)

Rated: NSFW (Danganronpa I’m sorry)

Summary: Amateur Detective Shuichi Saihara knew that searching for the “Usual 16” wasn’t going to get him anywhere. The disappearances weren’t being tracked in any news outlet, and very few families even tried to come forward to ask for help, let alone to report them missing. Yet, Shuichi can’t shake off the feeling that there’s a reason behind the disappearances, and he’s close to the answer.He just didn’t realize that the answer was going to hit close to home, in more ways than one.

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You can read this below the cut or at AO3

“That’s a face."

Shuichi startled as he looked over to see Kokichi peering at him from underneath the hat. His expression was mischievous and teasing, but the violets of his eyes spoke volumes of worry and concern. He didn’t hear Kokichi approach the school’s gate. He supposed he was a little out of it. Staking out places and trying not to get caught, added to the excitement that they won a tournament, he was starting to feel socially drained. He was surprised he didn’t fall asleep during class. He knew that the circles under his eyes were going to make Kokichi force him into another “skip class for a day” situation if he didn’t find a way to get sleep tonight. “I’m sorry.” Shuichi murmured as he tugged his hat down. “It’s been...it’s been a week.”

Kokichi flicked the hat’s brim up a little. “Looks like you’re about to get turned into a ghost or a corpse at this rate.” The joke was a little off, but Shuichi didn’t blame him for it. “I thought we agreed that sleeping was a good thing, Shuichi-chan. Good dreams! Do I need to break into your house again?” They started walking away from the school and headed down towards the street.

“You’re going to break into the house no matter what I say. I’m surprised you haven’t lately.” Shuichi paused and he looked at Kokichi, who suddenly started biting his thumb. “Are...are Deuce and Trick okay?” They were the ones everyone was most concerned about, considering their home life. It wouldn’t surprise Shuichi at all if Kokichi was trying to stay out with them to prevent them from going home, or at the very least trying to find ways to shelter them.

“They’re fine.” Kokichi replied, waving off the concern expertly. “We’re just trying to think about the place of attack. The hospital was a hit. Did you see the newspapers?! They still haven’t figured us out yet!”

“I did. My uncle nearly had an aneurysm over the phone when he called me.” Shuichi smiled lightly. “He knew immediately that it was you. Deuce-kun needs to change his signature.”

“Ugh, of course he’d give us away.” Kokichi groaned as he rolled his eyes. He brought his arms up over his head and leaned into the casual posture. “But you know, maybe we should keep the signature. You know, just in case someone else wants to try their hand at mystery solving. It isn’t fun if the Saihara’s are always on the case.”

“Oh believe me, we have our rivals.” Shuichi accepted the teasing. “I just don’t think we care too much.”

“You wouldn’t, which is either a testament to how good you are or how uncaring you are. I on the other hand adore my rivals.” Kokichi let his arms down and he immediately grabbed onto Shuichi’s arm, holding him close to him. “After all if that’s how I met you then maybe someone in my group will fall for their own rival. Then our group can get bigger. We could rule all of Japan. With you by my side. What do you say?”

“You’re insane and I love you.” Shuichi offered.

“Boring.”

“I love you or that you’re insane?” Shuichi raised an eyebrow.

“The love you part, duh. I already know Shuichi-chan loves me. He loves me so much, he did all that dirty work for me without too much of a hassle. He did ask too many questions though.” The grip on his arm only tightened, and Shuichi knew that Kokichi was lying. Well, he was lying about thinking the “love” part was boring. He was pretty certain everything else he was saying was true.

As they walked, Shuichi noticed a black car turning a corner and his eyebrow lifted slightly. Remembering the conversation that he had with Aki the other night made him concerned. Considering that he didn’t see whether or not they had a plate on them or not, he decided to give the benefit of the doubt for now. Kokichi cleared his throat and he realized that he must have spaced again.

“I’m coming home with you.” Kokichi proclaimed.

“Ah, what?” Shuichi blinked.

“I’m coming home with you. You’re acting weird and I don’t think you’d get on the right train without me.” Kokichi carefully dislodged himself from his arm and slipped his hand down into Shuichi’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “You’d be all discombobulated if you got off at the wrong station.”

“Are you sure you’re talking about me and not about Shuffle-chan?”

“She’d like the adventure too much and she’d call us if she got really, really lost. Shuichi-chan isn’t all that bright. You’d try to solve the mystery before you called us to tell us you got lost.” Kokichi pouted. “And leave me and Aki-chan to worry.”

“You’d worry. I think Aki-chan would just laugh at you for being scared.”

“Waah!” Kokichi let him go as he burst into tears. “You’re so mean to me! I’m just worried about you and you’re laughing at me!”

“Ah, I’m sorry Kokichi-kun. I’m sorry!” Shuichi’s neck turned hot as he could feel the gaze of the crowd lingering on them. He wanted to hide and he wanted Kokichi to stop making a scene. “Please stop crying, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m glad you’re worried about me. Honest.”

“Nishishi.” Kokichi’s tears immediately dried as though he hadn’t been crying in the first place. Shuichi still was trying to figure out how he could do that on command. Not even his mother could cry on demand, which was saying something considering she was a talented actress of her time.

Shuichi wanted off of that train of thought as fast as he possibly could. “You really are acting out of it. Did a certain someone try to contact you?”

“Ah no, I think that hasn’t happened in some time.” Shuichi shook his head. “Just a lot of thoughts. I’m sorry.”

“Well. No need to fret anymore. I’ll make all those worries and thoughts disappear when we get home.” Kokichi clung onto his arm again. “It’s the least you can do for making me cry, and maybe if you got some sleep.”

Shuichi sighed loudly.

Aki wasn’t home yet. Shuichi had put that thought away as he was busy trying to keep Kokichi from doing anything too insane. That meant being subjected to game after game, and trying to keep up with any riddles that the D.I.C.E. leader could find either on the internet or something that he made up on the spot. Right now, they had just finished building a blanket fort and both of them were snuggling, practically lying on top of each other.

“Hmm, it’s almost eight. Should we order takeout?” Kokichi mused. “I haven’t heard the door open, and Aki-chan isn’t back yet I don’t think.”

“Eight?” Shuichi glanced over sleepily to see that Kokichi was holding his phone in his hand, staring at the home screen. “Can you send her a message asking if she went to your hide out or something? See if she wants something or if she’s eating with friends.”

Kokichi nodded and Shuichi listened to the obnoxious beeping sounds of the buttons being pressed. He knew that Kokichi could change that in his settings, but for whatever reason, Kokichi wanted the most annoying thing he could find. He was just grateful that it was no longer the duck sounds.

Of course that theory went out the window as the phone blasted a horn sound through its speakers. Shuichi startled, staring at the phone and then back up to Kokichi. Kokichi nonchalantly flicked his thumb against the screen. He could hear his own phone going off in his school bag, but Shuichi felt too comfortable to move away from Kokichi or the fort that they had built. The bluish light tinted Kokichi's face and casted a shadow of concern and worry on his eyes.

“Kokichi-kun?” Shuichi watched as Kokichi moved so that he was sitting up right, legs immediately crossed as he leaned forward, his phone practically pressed up against his face. The concern only turned Shuichi’s blood cold and he quickly scrambled out of the fort to go to his backpack, ripping it open to dive for his phone that was somewhere deep in the abyss. He hated that his backpack could consume anything that was small. He was certain that he had a good assortment of blue and purple pens somewhere down there at the bottom, but he couldn’t find them, nor did he ever put in the effort of actually turning his back upside down.

He felt the vibration before he could feel his phone. He snatched towards the phone’s direction and yanked it out, ignoring the many papers that flew out with it. He saw that there were several notifications on his screen from the D.I.C.E chat, but also Discord was surprisingly blowing up too around the same time. There was also an email that he received. He only glanced at Danganronpa, before deciding to ignore it for now. It was probably spam or some type of advertisement, and he wasn’t about to get into that when he was too concerned about why Kokcihi was suddenly on alert.

Shuichi quickly got on to the D.I.C.E’s chat and saw with a sinking heart why Kokichi had turned so pale.

[ Widow: Masashi-kun and Touru-kun are the hospital, so there’s no one at the hideout. If Saihara-san really did come by to visit us, she would have probably left as soon as she saw the lights were off. ]

[ March: Do I need to be down there. ]

[ Widow: No. We have it under control. We’re getting them out of that house. ]

[ Solo: Ouma-kun is more than welcome to stay here. I know Saihara-kun will undoubtedly want him at his place too. I’m concerned about Saihara-san. That’s abnormal. Wouldn’t she be home? ]

[ March: Shuichi-chan’s worried. He’s also reading this chat. ]

[ Matador: I’m sorry to hear about Masashi-kun and Touru-kun. If we need to be there, we can be there. I just have to find a way to let Aki-chan know that we’re there. I’m worried. She would have responded to the chat by now. ]

[ Shuffle: (,,꒪꒫꒪,,) But I thought Chi-chan was home. ]

[ March: Explain. ]

[ Shuffle: (ó﹏ò｡) Aki-chan didn’t walk with me to school today. ]

Both Kokichi and Shuichi looked up at each other at the same time. Shuichi felt his heart drop into his stomach. It was nearing twelve hours then. He knew that the first few hours would’ve been critical if someone was going to be saved. Reporting it now would be a shot in the dark, but at least a chance.

Shuichi let Kokichi handle the D.I.C.E chat. Meanwhile he sent a text to his uncle, his thumbs hitting the wrong keys as his hands shook. He didn’t realize the screen was getting blurry until he felt something warm drip down his cheeks. She told him. Just a few nights ago, she told him that she was worried. She told him that she was afraid that there was someone following her.

Shuichi hadn’t done a thing. He should have encouraged her to report it. He should have told her that she needed to call their guardian. She could have been saved. Aki could have been saved. If he just had…

[ Uncle: Breathe, kid, I already texted Keiko. I’m going to swing by the police department and file a report. Best to do it and be wrong, than to be right and never have a chance. Chances are, Aki forgot to tell us that she had somewhere to be. ]

Shuichi really hoped that was the case, but he wasn’t sure about that. Trying to distract himself, he decided to go back towards the D.I.C.E chat, and saw that Kokichi already ordered them to stay where they were, and to take care of Deuce and Trick. Shuichi didn’t have any energy to feel angry for them. He really hated that the system had let them down like it had, and he really hoped that they were okay. He really hoped that his Uncle was right and that Aki was okay. That she just was late. That she did just forget.

He also knew that if she had been, Aki would’ve texted. He also knew that if she was anywhere near her phone, that entire conversation would have had her concern in it too. She probably would have echoed the same offer Shuichi gave full heartedly about needing to be there, if they had to be there.

“Shuichi-chan?” Kokichi said quietly and Shuichi looked up to see that Kokichi had crawled out of the blanket fort and was sitting next to him. His hand was hovering between them, as though he wasn't sure if he could grab onto Shuichi or not. Shuichi bowed his head and Kokichi immediately opened his arms towards him, dragging him to lean against his body.

“What happened to Masashi-kun and Touru-kun? Did anyone specify?” The lump burned at his throat as he attempted to speak around it. His stomach was twisted into so many knots, Shuichi wasn’t sure how to start untangling them. He could feel Kokichi tremble underneath him, or maybe it was just him shaking like a leaf and unable to get a hold of himself.

“To put it mildly, parents suck.” Kokichi answered as he flicked his thumb against the screen.

Shuichi nodded, understanding. He tried to think about what they needed to do. What could they do? There was absolutely nothing either one of them could do. Kokichi could go to the hospital. Kokichi was their leader, but Shuichi also knew that trying to tell Kokichi to leave while he was like this wasn't going to happen. Kokichi knew how to be stubborn.

“What about Aki-chan?” Kokichi decided to press softly. “What did we decide to do?”

It shouldn’t warm his heart to hear Kokichi refer to himself as family, but Shuichi needed the support. “Uncle Koji’s coming home. Aunt Keiko’s already been informed. We’re…” He swallowed thickly, feeling a renewed burning in his eyes as tears threatened to spill. “We’re reporting her missing.”

Kokichi nodded solemnly as he pulled away from him and started brushing away at his tears. “We’ll find her.” He said after a moment. “She’s one of us. She’s easy to find.”

“Yeah?”

“Pfft, you really doubt me don’t you?” Kokichi’s voice raised a little. He held his finger out, pointing at Shuichi. “Did you forget that we’re a team of ten thousand strong?!”

“N-no.” There were only eleven members. “Then why don’t I ever see them at the meetings?”

“How the hell am I going to stuff that many people in our house? Jeez, Shuichi-chan, it’s called Discord. You should know it by now.” Kokichi huffed and Shuichi faintly laughed. “Honestly the audacity you have to doubt your own boyfriend, let alone your own leader .”

“Sorry.” Shuichi quickly bowed his head, and he could feel Kokichi shift. “So. You think that she’ll be found?”

“No doubt about it. So come on Shuichi, let’s go back into the fort yeah? I’m sure Koji-chan and Keiko-chan will prefer it if you didn’t worry over stupid things.” Kokichi gently took Shuichi’s hand. “Besides, what can you do right now? All we have is people telling us that she’s gone. Nothing to say where. Nothing to say who. Until we get that information, what can we start doing? It’s the city, not the wilderness.”

Shuichi couldn’t deny that Kokichi was right. There really was no way to figure out where she was at the time. He felt his phone buzz next to him and he reached for it automatically. Another email from Danganronpa.

Frowning, he decided to open the email app. He could mark it a spam so that he could focus on more important things. Just as he reached the inbox, he saw the complete subject box. The first email that was sent had the subject line of: Thank you for your tribute and your impending participation. Which felt as ominous as it sounded. The second email had the line of: Are you ready for a game of thrills, chills and kills?

“What’s wrong?” Kokichi asked and Shuichi angled his phone towards his boyfriend’s direction. “Um...what?”

“That’s my impression too. I don’t…”

Kokichi yanked the phone out of Shuichi’s hand. “If I reply to the spam email, do you think I’ll be as famous as that English comedian back in the U.K?”

“No? They’re probably going to think that you’re doing this to be like him to begin with.” Shuichi wouldn’t mind it if Kokichi tried to send a prank back at them. Maybe if he did that, he’d be left alone.

“Thank you for your tribute and participation,” Kokichi suddenly read aloud, causing Shuichi to look at him. “As you know, this game only happens once a year and with the best choices that were picked from judges. We had over thirty auditions this year, and it was hard to narrow down the choices to just sixteen.” He paused and Shuichi felt all color drain from his face. Sixteen. Kokichi glanced at him before continuing. “We hope that you will continue to participate in the game as you have done in the previous years. If this is your first time getting this email, congratulations on being a part of the Danganronpa family. We hope you enjoy your stay.”

“What.” Shuichi replied, staring at him like he just grew another head.

Kokichi quickly deleted that email and went to the next one. “Dear Danganronpa Fanatics. Welcome back to the fifty-second game! The rules have changed slightly due to audiences wishing to take more of a role in our games. We are so excited to share what we have in store for you. As you are aware, we have opened our doors to allow family members who are close to the contestants to have a special invite so that they can watch and participate too. Isn’t that exciting? Bear in mind that the audience and the family members are going to be anonymous, meaning that you will not know who is who during this time to make the voting fair. Yes, that’s right! Voting time! You will not be voting during the class trials unfortunately, as that is for the contestants to deal with. Instead, you will be voting anywhere from favorite colors to motive videos.”

“Motive videos?” Shuichi asked weakly. “Game? What do they mean by class trials?!”

“I don’t know.” Kokichi bit his thumb as he stared at the email. “It goes on to talk about that the voting is majority rules, and that you can only influence the game so much. You may get a chance to do a video talking directly to the contestant, but you have to be aware that the motive videos may be switched among the players, so you may want to choose words carefully. Jeez, for a spam email, they sure decided to go the dark route, didn’t they?”

“I no longer think that’s spam.” But what else could it be? Shuichi never heard of Danganronpa before. He doubted that his cousin would have even known about it either. They didn’t go around looking for things like that, at least he didn’t think she would. Then again, missing people always had secrets. He glanced at the wall that his computer desk was pushed up against. The very same wall that he could hear her guitar. Missing people always had secrets that even the closest relatives didn’t know about.

He never thought that there would be a day he would have to investigate his own cousin. He never thought that he would have to dig out her secrets. He looked at the phone that was resting in Kokichi’s hand, seeing the words that were printed on the screen. He doubted about the auditions. He doubted that there was such a thing.

Takahashi said it best, didn’t he? That if he was going to kidnap, he would scout out his potential targets. That was what those black cars were for.

“The Usual Sixteen.” Shuichi murmured quietly.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking about trying to use a case to distract you. I’m right here.” Kokichi pouted, but the mood didn’t match. He was trying, and Shuichi appreciated it.

“No, that’s wrong.” Shuichi shook his head. “I was thinking...Danganronpa specifically mentioned that sixteen were selected out of the thirty that they scouted.”

“Yes…” Kokichi agreed slowly. “You think that…”

“The Usual Sixteen were in Danganronpa. But why? If it’s a game, shouldn’t they have returned home?” Shuichi pursed his lips together. “That’s what bothers me about it.”

“There’s a link in the email.” Kokichi glanced down at the email. “We could...turn it on...confirm our suspicions.”

“...I think I’d like my uncle to take a look at it first.” Shuichi determined. “I’d rather have him know that I got these emails and see what his professional opinion is. Chances are, we may not have a choice but to hand over my phone as evidence, because of the links that are on it. They may be able to trace something.”

“If that’s what you want, beloved. I won’t stop you.” Kokichi sighed as he handed the phone back to Shuichi. “But can you send me those emails to my phone regardless?”

“Why?” Shuichi’s brows furrowed.

“I want Solo-kun to see if he can’t trace it.”

“I mean…” He trailed off. The police were sometimes too slow and if Aki was a part of it, then they needed to know now before something happened. “I guess.”

“Cool! Thank you babe!”

“Oh god please no.”

“Baby~”

“No.”

“Bambino.”

“Kokichi-kun, no.”

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writing-royza · 6 years ago

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Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Fourteen – Conclave

A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! What a nice, calm weekend, nothing really major going on. A nice movie night in with a close friend, gaming and writing Sunday while chilling with the cat…. If next Monday weren't a holiday, I'd be starting to feel bummed about starting the work week again. At least this week, there's some sexy time Royza to keep us entertained. Usual other warnings apply.

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Fourteen - Conclave

EASTERN COUNTRYSIDE, AMESTRIS

2143 HOURS, APRIL 19

There was something thrilling about it, this act of forbidden love taking place more or less in the open. All that hid them from prying eyes were the canvas-covered sides of the military truck and the fact that they hadn't seen another soul for hours. Though it was only approaching mid-spring, the air was already warming with the heat of the desert environment they were approaching, dry air lying on the landscape like light fabric.

Riza glanced back over her shoulder as the fabric flap covering the back of the truck waved lightly in the breeze, showing a brief glimpse of sparse grasslands, starry nighttime skies, and the small campfire they had left outside. A moment later, fingers touched her chin, turning her to face forward again.

"Hey." Roy's dark hair seemed to blend into the bedroll underneath him, but his eyes were bright in the shadows. "It's okay; if we'd been followed, we would know by now. Relax."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, turning to press a quick kiss to his fingers. "I know. No military running after us, no serial killer tracking us down, no reporters waving subpoenas…." Leaning down from her place settled comfortably on his hips, she kissed him again, this time on the lips.

"And if either of the latter two do happen to show their faces…." He grinned, lifting one hand from her thigh to snap ungloved fingers. "Then I think it's my turn to handle them."

As he had no doubt intended, that drew a genuine smile. "And wouldn't that be a sight," she countered, her eyes wandering south along his bare chest. "A half-naked man shooting fire as journalists and mysterious murderers alike cower in fear? My hero."

"Someone ought to paint that." He returned his hand to her, slipping it under the hem of the blouse he had pulled from its place tucked into the waistband of her rucked up skirt. "I'll hang it on the wall of the Presidential office once I'm Führer. An office needs at least one bragging point, as a conversation starter."

She suppressed an anticipatory squirm as the back of his fingers ghosted over her ribcage. "And yet," she pointed out, "your current office is noticeably devoid of bragging points. Care to explain, sir?"

She was fully aware she was doing it: the high-quality words, the use of an honourific, the way she shifted minutely to let his hand slip to her back… Riza Hawkeye knew all too well how to mix teasing and accommodation to rile Roy Mustang, and from the way his eyes locked on to hers, she also knew she had succeeded once again.

"Damn, you're good," he muttered, the words a low growl in his throat. The hand on her back pulled, drawing her closer, down against his chest, and Riza met the rough kiss with equal fervour. Keeping one hand braced on the floor beside his head, she touched the other one to the side of his face, feeling the way the muscles moved subtly as the kiss deepened, subsided, deepened….

From her seat, she could feel him begin to respond, and shifted her hips in answer. He grinned against her lips, his free hand diving beneath the folded fabric of her skirt to skate teasingly up the outside of her leg to her hip. Curious fingers briefly explored the line of her panties before slipping beneath to press flush against her skin. His thumb pressed into the hollow where the hip joined abdomen to leg, and Riza rewarded him with a sharp inhale through her nose.

She had to lift herself to reach, her hand leaving the side of his face to undo his belt. A moment later, she abandoned the kiss to focus on undoing the button and fly beneath. She was aware, from the corner of her eye, of him watching her before he tilted his head to the side to watch the movement of his hand under her clothes as it slid from her hip to her backside.

His attention, however, snapped back to her as she pulled away, his mouth opening to ask what she was doing… but he paused at the sight of the mischievous spark in her smile. Bracing herself by way of both knees on the floor, Riza got a grip with both hands on the waistband of both pants and boxers. She waited for a pair of heartbeats, watching as the realization dawned on him what she was about to do… and then pulled. Hard.

Roy's surprise was evident in his raised eyebrows when his clothes ended up nearly to his knees, dark eyes following her as she moved back closer. "I don't remember you being to do that before," he commented, hands going instinctively to her hips to help her balance as she resettled herself. "I mean, you've tried, I know, but it never wo–"

The word disappeared into a faint, open-mouthed gasp as she brushed against him, sending his hands tightening involuntarily. Riza lifted her hips away from him again, watching with a not-quite-smug smile as he recovered himself. His self-control dissolved into another sharp breath as she reached down, her fingers almost stealthy as they wrapped around his length.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing it did work," she murmured, her voice low and even. She bent close, making sure she had the full attention of those dark eyes. "I'm getting tired of waiting… Roy."

She had expected his hurry to get rid of the panties impeding their progress, but not the method. Roy's dangerous grin was her only warning, before her skirt flipped up in back, his hands clapped once, and then pressed to the soft cotton. In another instant, the fabric just… disintegrated.

He pulled the shredded remains of the garment from her, holding them up as though for inspection. "Fast enough for you?"

Riza didn't answer, merely shifted her position, let go, and gave him entrance.

The first thrust dropped her head to his chest, her fingers clenching on his shoulders. Roy's breath came out in a shudder in her hair, one hand keeping her close on her lower back, the other protectively on the nape of her neck. The second drew a moan that forced her mouth open, her lips growing salty as sweat began to gather in the warm night. After the third, she felt his body flex, his arms tightening as he held her to him and sat up.

Both his hands went to her hips, tugging her closer with each thrust, hers rising to tangle in his hair. The kisses in between were rough and undisciplined, before he turned his attention elsewhere. One hand lifted from her waist long enough to free the first three blouse buttons from their holes, opening the path for his lips.

Riza's head tilted back, letting the sensations wash over her and carry her along. Her fingers tightened as he kissed a slow, tortuous path from the hollow of her throat down the centre of her chest before veering left to the gentle curve of a breast. The same hand as before freed itself, making no attempt at preamble but pulling aside the fabric of shirt and bra to grant him access.

She barely heard the low hum in her throat or felt the convulsive grip of her fingers as a wet tongue dragged itself over the nipple. She wasn't entirely aware of the way she pressed herself further onto him… but he was.

"Oh… so she likes attention paid to things other than her legs," he murmured, his voice husky from his own arousal, and the grin evident in his tone. Roy lifted his head enough to meet her wide eyes, his half-closed in pleasure. "Makes me wonder what you'd do if I –" His finger flicked, brushing over the damp patch, and Riza's eyes closed. "– did it again…."

She dropped her chin, their foreheads pressing together. "Do it."

Roy never had been one to deny her much.

Their tempo picked up, and in between moments of near-transcendence, Riza kept track of the myriad of signals his body gave. His breath came in pants, growing steadily more ragged in time with the tightening of his grasp on her hip and the transition of each thrust from measured to tightly controlled as he worked to draw out his stamina. Riza registered vaguely that her own breathing was still even, although her skin glistened with sweat and every inch of her tingled with want.

When she came, it was almost without warning. Roy appeared to catch the barest hint of her body going slack for an instant, and dropped flat to his back again. The motion pushed him farther inside at the crucial moment, and Riza felt something like the shockwave of a detonation explode outward from somewhere near her solar plexus.

She had time for the shortest of glimpses of his face – sweat running into dark eyes that were wide with victory and a predatory grin that showed his own desire – before her back arched, and she screamed her orgasm to the canvas covering of the truck bed.

He was right behind her, the sudden buck of his hips nearly throwing her off-balance into one of the wooden supply crates; she looked down in time to see his head thrown back as hers had been, the line of his jaw tight with clenched teeth, and a streak of colourful curse words being directed toward the truck cab.

Feeling her muscles go slack, dropping her into the warm, soft grasp of the afterglow, Riza eased him from her before stretching out alongside him on the bedroll. Shaking her bangs from her eyes, she didn't try to smother a smile at the way his gaze was still fixed on the canvas 'ceiling.'

One finger reached out to trail over his cheekbone. "What's this look?"

Lolling his head in her direction, he gave her a grin that was still halfway punchdrunk with pleasure. "The one that says I've been screwed halfway senseless, I think." Rolling onto his side, he paused a moment to hike his pants back up, leaving them undone around his hips.

Riza allowed herself to be tugged close against his chest, breathing in the smell of him… and was struck by a memory. A memory at least ten years old, of a fifteen-year-old boy that had stayed in her father's house, walking with her on the road to town in the summer heat with one arm around her shoulders in comradely fashion. Here, in the warm evening, his arm around her with the smell of ink-covered paper, light sweat, and him….

He was watching when her head came up, and those dark eyes had no trouble reading the expression in hers. His eyebrows lifted. "…You can't possibly be game to go again. It hasn't even been two minutes yet."

She shrugged one shoulder, though the usually sheepish gesture was entirely unabashed. "I can't explain it, I just feel what I feel. I don't think there's any controlling that."

Roy rolled his eyes good-naturedly before extricating himself and getting to his feet. One hand reached out to her. "Come on, up you get."

Feeling slightly puzzled — this was not the reaction she had been expecting — she accepted the hand up. No sooner had she gained her feet than she was backed gently against the stacks of supply crates to one side. Pleasantly surprised, she watched that familiar trickster's grin expose his teeth, his left hand snaking from her hip down her leg.

"Better hang on to something," he murmured, pressing close against her, ducking his head so that the words ghosted over her ear in a rush of warm breath. Riza wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, knowing they would tighten before long, and buried her nose against his shoulder.

Paper… sweat… him.

The lowering hand was joined by the other, the pair of them beginning the teasing, inexorable raise of her skirt. His lips brushed against the curve of her ear as he said, "I'm definitely not complaining… but it does strike me as odd that you'd choose to travel in anything other than pants…."

Her laugh was low in her throat, more a stuttered exhale than anything. "When all I'm required to do is sit in the cab of a truck for hours on end? I didn't think you'd mind having scenery other than the landscape to look at…."

"You would dare distract the driver?"

"I would also rather not be cooked alive by the warmth during the daytime." She squirmed slightly with anticipation as his fingertips brushed the inside of her thigh. "I don't know if you noticed, but the truck cab gets really — oh…."

She heard the soft clap in the middle of her sentence, the words breaking off into a gasp as a tingling cold fire shot up through her core as he let the alchemy run free. Riza's arms tightened around his neck, lifting herself half an inch higher, even as his fingers delivered a teasing stroke that drew a low, near-desperate moan from deep in her throat.

"You said you wanted more," he reminded her, his voice deep and soft in her ear. If she hadn't been holding on to him so tightly, she had no doubt her knees would have given way and dumped her unceremoniously on the floor. Her nose still nestled against his shoulder, she hummed in pleased satisfaction at a second, agonizingly slow stroke of his fingertips. His laugh was quiet, showing that he knew exactly what to do to get a reaction. "How about you make that sound for me again, love?"

When she opened her mouth, she fully intended to give him what he asked for. Instead, almost on instinct, she closed her teeth around the top of his shoulder. Not forcefully, not enough to penetrate the fabric of his shirt, let alone his skin; just enough to evidence her pleasure and deny him his request.

He started to say something else, then abruptly froze. His head came up, turning toward the canvas flap over the rear of the truck, listening. Her mind still swirling in a fog of desire and love chemicals, Riza used the respite to take a deep breath, leaning back against the crates. She almost groaned aloud when Roy's hands dropped from beneath her skirt and he gently extricated himself from her arms.

"Wait here," he murmured, touching a steadying hand to her shoulder before starting for the flap. She watched him do up his pants, the motions almost automatic as he focussed instead on whatever he had heard outside… and then she was hearing it, too. A sound like stuttered thunder came from out on the plains surrounding their little encampment, drawing slowly closer.

Roy stuck his head out just quickly enough to spot the approaching group, then spoke over his shoulder. "My gloves are in the front; I think I know who our visitors are, but just in case I'm wrong…."

"Got it." She watched him pass through the canvas and drop to the sandy soil before wrenching her mind away from thoughts of their little tryst and back to business. Working quickly, she adjusted her skirt and blouse back into proper position, and ran a pair of quick hands through her hair to make sure it wasn't in disarray. The underwear was a lost cause, but she would just have to deal without it. She was just packing up the bedroll they had spread out when the hooves of the approaching horses drew to a stop outside the vehicle, voices taking their place. She stowed the bedroll by the crates and after a quick check that she wouldn't be visible to their visitors, slipped through the narrow gap in the partition between the cab and the truck bed.

It was the work of another ten seconds to snatch Roy's gloves and tuck them into the waistband of her skirt at the small of her back — she didn't know when women's clothing designers would add pockets to skirts, but she hoped it was soon — before opening the driver's side door and slipping out into the gathering night.

The men assembled turned to look in her direction as she closed the door behind her; Riza could only recognize a few. Roy stood with his hands resting casually on his hips, talking to Scar and Miles. Both men had dismounted and were holding the reins of their horses, their postures relaxed and unthreatening. Three other Ishvalan men remained in their saddles, alternating between watching their leaders conversing with the Amestrian stranger and studying the blonde woman who had suddenly appeared. Riza glanced once in their direction before crossing to join the discussion.

Miles offered her a small smile as she reached them. "Ah, Lieutenant. I was wondering where you might have gotten to. I hope your journey thus far has gone well."

"Pleasantly uneventful, sir," she answered, offering a brief salute. Just because neither he nor she was currently in uniform didn't negate the fact that he still outranked her. "At least compared to the few days we spent in East City."

"So we heard," Scar put in. The look he gave her was appraising, as though he were mentally reconciling the stories he had heard with the woman in front of him. "Word travels fast even out here."

Riza was spared the embarrassment of having to discuss the matter further by Roy's intervention. "Then you should also know that we've left the East City investigation in the hands of Major Armstrong and the rest of my staff. We were given the green light to take the first steps to changing the Ishvalan policies and rebuilding the region." He nodded toward the truck. "We brought enough with us to at least set up an outpost, and we can requisition more supplies as we need them."

Passing the reins of his horse to Miles, Scar stepped forward to push the canvas aside, peering into the truck's dim interior. Riza caught Roy's glance sliding in her direction, his expression a silent question - Evidence? She gave the smallest possible shake of her head. None.

"Impressive," the warrior remarked. "For having limited planning time, it's well put together."

"Thanks." Roy glanced from Scar to Miles. "Forgive my curiosity, but… we're still a day's travel from Jadad. What brings you out this far?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Miles shrugged. "When we heard you were on your way, we came to meet you, and to give you a crash course in culture before you got into public view in the city."

"Adherence to tradition is stricter here than in the cities and slums of Amestris," Scar elaborated, rejoining them. "There, they don't practice the old ways as much, to avoid persecution. But here…. This is our holy land and our home. Here, the traditions are strong."

He indicated the three men travelling with them. "These are the foremost clan leaders from the Gunja, Daliha, and Kanda regions. Each province has its own needs and requirements for the rebuilding effort, and we thought it would be best for you to get to know the clan leaders before we are in a place to really get down into the details."

"Makes sense." Roy's eyes flitted in her direction again, before his head tilted slightly to where their campfire had guttered low over the last hour or so. Riza acknowledged with a wordless nod before stepping away from the group.

She listened without watching as she stirred the fire coals back to life, adding a few fresh pieces of wood from the supply they had brought with them. With the faint sheen of sweat from earlier and Roy not close enough to warm her, she was beginning to feel the cool night air, but where the afterglow would normally have her feeling drowsy, she instead felt… alive.

Kneeling comfortably on the soft prairie grass, her feet tucked under her and her hands folded neatly in her lap, she watched as the three clan leaders bowed to Roy, and as he returned the gesture with his expression a perfect solemn mask. He said something she didn't quite catch to Scar, who apparently translated to the other three, and the group moved in her direction.

The clan leaders approached her one by one, each pressing his palms together and murmuring a single word in Ishvalan as he bowed, hands rising to forehead level. Riza returned to gesture, the brief instruction she had received from the scant information available in Amestrian source books reminding her that there was a happy medium to be found between too low of a bow and not low enough…. Regardless, that little hurdle overcome, the men settled down around the fire.

Miles was the first to speak. "Lieutenant, I'd like to present Leader Dharva, from Gunja province, Leader Mharyys from Daliha, and Leader Kalsban from Kanda. Would you prefer them to know your full name, or just your rank and surname?"

"Since we'll be working so closely, I can't see how it would hurt to use my full name," she answered, careful to keep her tone professional and polite. Roy nodded agreement.

Scar took over, speaking to the men in the Ishvalan language. Riza hadn't had much cause to hear it, since snipers had a tendency to hang back in battle groups that went head-to-head with an opponent, but she had always enjoyed the almost musical lilt to the words. That sound, coming from a rough, craggy face like Scar's, provided an interesting juxtaposition. They were mixed with the blunt Amestrian syllables of 'Colonel Roy Mustang' and 'First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.'

Surprise overtook the clan leaders, along with murmurs of reaction. Dharva said something in reply to Scar, and the big man turned to look in her direction. "He's apologizing. They didn't realize you were a soldier as well." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth for the space of an instant. "He said they thought the Colonel had decided to bring his wife with him."

Someone else in the same situation might have gotten flustered, or at the very least, blushed. Roy, however, smiled easily, and shook his head. "We've been known to argue like we are, but the Lieutenant and I aren't married," he explained. "She's my assistant and my bodyguard, and we've worked closely for several years."

Upon the translation, all three clan leaders laughed at the joke, nodding their understanding. Across the fire, Riza caught the slow lowering of Miles' shoulders as he breathed a surreptitious sigh of relief. He glanced up, catching her eye, and nodded approval; getting to a comfortable level with the clan leaders had apparently been a point of concern for him.

When the laughter and murmuring had subsided, Roy resettled himself in a businesslike fashion. "I'll lay out how I'd like things to go," he said, speaking unhurriedly so that Scar could provide a running translation. "If at any time you have questions, concerns, or a different idea, just let me know. Fair?" A round of nods followed the end of the Ishvalan words.

She was aware if the deep breath he took only through knowing him so well. "We stand at the beginning of new understanding between two peoples," Roy began. "The Amestrian leadership is willing to acknowledge where we went wrong, and explain how, under the previous administration, things became as bad as they did. We want to make amends and reparations for the atrocities committed against your people. Part of the purpose of our trip is to lay the groundwork for a treaty or an accord that will fully commit Amestris to this cause."

He indicated Riza with a tilt of his head. "Lieutenant Hawkeye has full working knowledge of the Amestrian military Administration system, and can draw up any such document to the satisfaction of all."

Leader Mharyys held up a hand, forestalling further comment. Scar provided the translation of the melodic words that followed. "We look forward to working with a reformed Amestrian government, especially since it appears King Bradley has been permanently removed from power. However, Colonel, I cannot help but think that whatever accord we come to while you and your assistant are here will receive negative reaction from your countrymen."

Nodding in agreement, Leader Dharva added, "Not all Amestrians view the Ishvalan people in the same warm light as you, Colonel."

Roy's tone turned firm, but not angry. "It maybe be a bitter pill for some to swallow," he admitted. "But I would sooner see my country acknowledge its mistakes and pay for them than continue on merrily as though nothing had happened." He made direct eye contact with each leader. "A body of people follow their leader. If the leader makes bad decisions, the people are dragged into the consequences. But if the leader makes good decisions, the people will thrive."

Leader Kalsban broke into a large grin, and spoke rapidly. Even unfamiliar as she was with the language, Riza caught the distinct rhythm and matching sounds of a rhyme.

"He quoted an old proverb," Scar explained. "It loses a little something in translation, but the gist of it is, 'If a shepherd leads his sheep into the desert, they will drink only dust. But if he leads them to the river, the water will sustain them."

Roy smiled. "I bow to the wisdom of your elders, then."

"Best you actually do it, then." Miles murmured. "We're a very literal people. Very 'do what you say and say what you mean,' if you get my drift."

"Fair enough." So saying, Roy pressed both hands to the scrubby grass, bending until his forehead nearly touched them, and held the pose for a brief moment before straightening. Riza watched the expression of the leaders as he did so, seeing the pleased and even slightly impressed expressions cross their faces. In his humility, she felt pride for him.

Leader Dharva was not long in beginning the dialogue again. "We are very open to any ideas Amestris may have for helping us to rebuild," the translation went. "However, there is one small stipulation we feel we must request." He raised one arm, gesturing the the expanse of flatland fading away into the eastern distance. "Ours is a holy land, Colonel, dedicated to Ishvala and our preservation of his name and worship. We realize it is not your religion, whatever that may be, but we will require all those who live and work in the region during its reconstruction to be formally consecrated by a priest of Ishvala."

Quick to accurately judge the surprised look that passed between Colonel and Lieutenant, Leader Kalsban added, "Please do not be alarmed. We do not ask that you fully commit to the religion. It is not consecration in the way that you are inducted into a religious sect. It is…." He faltered, searching for the right description, and Scar paused in the translation until Kalsban continued. "It is as it was with one of the older religions of your country, that has since become obscure, I think. Where a new building or marriage would be blessed by a priest to gain God's favour in work or life."

She watched him allow the understanding to show on his face, before he smiled pleasantly and nodded. "Whatever you see fit is what we are here to do," he answered. "If Ishval is ever to be remade again in the image of your God, we will do whatever we need to."

Joyful exclamations and clapping met this comment, once translated, and the three leaders got to their feet. Before either Roy or Riza could do the same, each had one of the men crouching in front of them. Leader Mharyys took Riza's face in both hands, pressing a whiskery kiss to the centre of her forehead. The process was repeated with Leader Dharva, and finally, Leader Kalsban.

Scar was watching with a small smile when the display was over. "They accept you," he said simply. "You will be consecrated when we reach Jadad tomorrow; it must be done inside a temple. Blessings given in the field are for victims of war or the very poor."

When he glanced over toward her, Riza saw her own thoughts mirrored in Roy's dark eyes.

We've almost made it….

EAST CITY

2220 HOURS, APRIL 19

Standing hidden in the dark shadows on the roof, the man leaned back against the tall brick column of a chimney, his eyes closed in both concentration and pleasure. The mix of thoughts swirling through the Lieutenant's mind, even at the distance separating them, were a heady brew. Vague, imagined sensations ghosted over him, the feeling of hands, the softer touch of a mouth….

He grinned. Mustang would more than mortified if he knew the touches he left on his Lieutenant's skin were being broadcast to another mind hundreds of miles distant.

That being said, it wasn't as though he had a private phone line to the Lieutenant's mind. During the day, her connection still waned, her growing powers and his own weakened by the sun. But the nights…. Oh, the nights were better. Like radio airwaves clearing as the moon rose, her thoughts came less vaguely, and the impressions were clearer.

All at once, the lascivious little sensations stopped, and Hawkeye's sense took on an alertness… and then purpose.

The man frowned, attempting to narrow his focus… and felt the impression blur and diffuse, as though through frosted glass. A brief flash of recognition, another of calm camaraderie fading into polite professionalism…. After that, he could glean nothing else useful.

Or could he? That second-to-last feeling, the one of recognized friendship…. Who would she have those feelings toward so deep in the East? The quick answer was the Elric brothers, which did make a certain amount of sense. The boys would no doubt have, at the very least, a passing interest in going to Ishval… but they had likely only just arrived home themselves. They would be too preoccupied with catching up with their childhood friend, the pretty blonde automail mechanic, to even think of flitting off again for adventure.

Besides which, hadn't the younger Elric been severely malnourished when the man had seen him in hospital? Travelling home would be an ordeal in itself, let alone Ishval. So no, the person or persons that Lieutenant Hawkeye's mind had recognized as friendly…. It had to be someone else.

Tilting his head back, gazing up at the half-moon gleaming softly like an opal on black velvet, the man smiled, knowing the same moon was watching over the Lieutenant no matter how far away she was. "What friend have you found, little bird?" he murmured, feeling the now familiar presence still swaying and swirling at the edge of his mind. He felt it foremost in his left temple. Facing south as he currently was, it made sense; it was something like a mostly indirect compass, telling him which direction she lay in, but not how far. Distance didn't matter.

Or rather, it mattered very little. His expression turning thoughtful, the man kept his gaze on the moon. Suppose he were to go after her. He had no reason not to, really; there wasn't anything tying him to this city. The question of transport was something else entirely, though. Had the railway to the Ishvalan regions not decayed without use, he could have easily climbed aboard the next train heading in that direction, but now he faced the same overland journey the Lieutenant had.

Sustenance would prove the most difficult part. Without a reliable source of human blood, he would have to take things slow and conserve his powers and energy. No travelling in his stretched-out form to cover the distance more quickly, since it would only drain him more quickly. He would need to go the old-fashioned —

A new thought stopped him in his mental tracks, with the realization that perhaps he could achieve faster travel… if he took along provisions. With his new stealthy abilities, stealing what he would need would be the work of a single night, and easy work at that.

A tent to protect him from the sunlight during the day, allowing him to rest up, an insulated container and dry ice to carry what he needed… and the stores at the East City Military Hospital would have all the easily-transportable blood he could ask for.

A large, predatory grin stealing across his face, the man turned his gaze from the moon and slipped off deeper into the city shadows. There were preparations to make, a journey to undertake… and then the Lieutenant would be within reach once again.

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #tainted blood

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