Passion

By Yellow Mask

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.

oooooooo

Roy Mustang slouched in his desk and tried to refrain from sighing in frustration. While the weather might be glorious outside, in his office, it was sweltering. He bent over the paperwork on his desk, feeling beads of sweat crawl down his back like ants.

It was just his luck that he'd be stuck inside with paperwork on what promised to be one of the hottest days of the summer.

Roy swiped at his forehead, removing the thin sheen of perspiration that was gathering there, trying to force his mind to concentrate the words in front of him. It did no good. The heat lay in the room like a woollen blanket, thick and heavy, it even appeared cloying enough to muffle the slight scratching noise of Riza's pen as it skated across her paper.

Roy flicked a glance at the room's only other occupant, marvelling at how she could work in the oppressive oven that was his office. He noticed, with a tinge of envy, how her impressive work ethic didn't seem to have lagged in the slightest.

That observation was quickly trumped by another one. One that made his fingers clench so tightly on the pen in his hand he half-expected it to break.

The first three buttons on her uniform were undone – the square, concealing collar peeled back to expose a tantalising expanse of skin. A single drop of sweat was slowly easing its way down her neck, over her collarbones, travelling towards the centre of her chest…

Being a smart man, Roy knew his undoing when he saw it, and snapped his eyes back down to his papers so fast he thought he could hear the whip-crack. He took a slow breath, in and out, and did his best to think of everything cold, everything slimy, everything decaying…

Everything that was not sexually appealing.

Everything that was not Riza Hawkeye.

'It's only three buttons,' Roy silently berated himself. 'No need to lose your head over three open buttons!'

…who was he kidding?

When it came to Riza, it seemed he spent hours struggling to control his passion. Roy tried to force his mind back to his work, an attempt that almost succeeded.

But then Riza decided to stretch.

Roy was looking at his desk, but he heard the soft pops as her back realigned, and…

He gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

Riza probably hadn't intended it, hadn't even realised that as her muscles eased, a throaty moan of pleasure slipped past her lips.

She might not have noticed it, but Roy did.

He clenched his teeth, half-heartedly repeating a silent mantra to himself. 'I will not fantasise about my lieutenant, I will not fantasise about my lieutenant, I will not fantasise about my lieutenant…'

Nope, didn't help. But Roy hadn't really expected it to, he'd tried the mantra at least a hundred times in the past year, and it hadn't worked once.

It had worked when he'd invented it, those first few weeks with Riza Hawkeye under his command. Back then, it had just been desire. Back then, it had been manageable. Back then, Riza had just been an attractive woman – any red-blooded male would have noticed.

Back then, the mantra worked because there was no emotion involved.

But suddenly, sometime during the first year she was working with him, the mantra stopped having any effect. Because Riza had become far more than just an attractive woman.

Lust was easy to handle, love was another story entirely.

Roy realised his mind was wandering. And the path it was taking was a dangerous road to travel, especially while alone with Riza.

He reached down and pinched his thigh, trying to drag his mind back to his work.

oooooooo

An hour later, Roy risked another peek.

Riza's brow was furrowed, apparently puzzling over some report. Her front teeth bit into the swell of her bottom lip and Roy almost groaned in frustration. He didn't really believe in God, but he was sure someone was laughing at him.

As though having reached a particularly difficult passage, Riza's mouth opened and, almost unconsciously, her tongue slid out and moistened her lips.

That was it! Roy had officially reached the end of his rope!

"Riza!" his tone commanded instant attention.

"Sir?"

He could see her puzzlement. It was the first time he called her by her first name.

"Stand up and walk to the front of your desk."

She complied, the bewilderment in her eyes deepening, the raised eyebrow telling him that there had better be a good explanation for this. But Roy was determined – one way or another, this, this…thing…would be resolved!

Roy took her by the shoulder, one hand tilting her chin up, and he pressed his lips against hers.

Riza went absolutely stiff, as though turned to granite. He waited for perhaps three heartbeats, then drew away. Her expression was perfectly blank, as though she were in shock. He swallowed his disappointment, trying to pick up the scattered pieces of his heart as he started to step away…

But he never got the chance. Riza seized his collar and yanked him to her, kissing him fiercely, one hand moving to the back of his neck to hold him in place.

Roy's heart leapt in his ribs like a hyperactive kid who'd just eaten a pound of sugar. He eagerly returned the favour, one arm twining around her waist and the other cradling her head. Her hairclip jabbed into his palm, and without conscious thought, his fingers found the catch and pulled the piece of plastic away. He was dimly aware of the newly-freed strands cascading down like a golden waterfall but he was more interested in the soft moans that were filling the room. He couldn't tell who was making them; him, her…both?

Riza fisted a hand in his jacket, pulling him with her as she slowly moved backwards.

They hit the desk, and Riza leaned back, her grip never faltering. Reluctant to break the seal of their mouths, Roy followed.

The next few moments were a pleasant haze of lips and arms, but Roy came to himself with a start when he realised their positions.

Riza was lying underneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist. He was on his hands and knees, his arms bracketed on either side of her head. As his brain processed this, Riza's hand slipped into the front of his shirt, running over bare skin.

Was she actually suggesting…?

With a supreme effort of will, Roy tore his mouth from hers. He rested his head on the slope of her collarbone, panting with the effort to rein in his passion.

"R-Riza," he gasped out, "If we don't stop now…I'm going to have difficulty controlling myself…"

Cool fingers – a startling contrast to the heat pervading the room and thumping through his blood – slid under his chin, and Riza raised his eyes to meet hers.

She smiled. A soft, sensuous smile that had Roy scrambling desperately for more of his suddenly elusive self-control. Her lips brushed his earlobe, and his body jerked with the effort of holding himself in check.

"Good," she breathed. "I think we've waited long enough."

Roy needed no further encouragement. He kissed her desperately, with all the wild longing he had horded away for so many years. She returned it, her hands slipping his shirt from his shoulders as his fingers made short work of the unopened buttons on her jacket.

And for the rest of the day, passion ran free.

End.