Archive of Our Own

Riza Mustang sits straight up in bed, her heart hammering in her chest. She throws the covers back, puts her feet to the floor, and runs as fast as they can carry her. 

She barely makes it to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet before vomiting spectacularly. Tears spring unbidden to her eyes as her stomach clenches and acid burns her throat. 

“Again?”

She can’t even look up at the sound of her husband’s tired voice, and he comes to kneel behind her, insisting on holding back her hair.

When she finally finishes and leans back against the side of the bathtub, he hands her a piece of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. Riza tosses the paper into the bowl and flushes the mess away as he rises, turning on the sink and wetting a washcloth. Riza leans her head against the cool porcelain, trying to catch her breath. 

Roy kneels again beside her with the cold washcloth, pressing it to her cheek, but she snatches it from him irritably.

“You don’t have to do this,” she mumbles, feeling ashamed as she wipes tears from her cheek. “I keep telling you.”

Roy sits down cross-legged, running his hands up and down his bare arms, clearly cold in the early morning. 

“And I keep telling you,” he replies patiently, “that I don’t mind.” He sighs and puts his hand on her knee. “I know we both wanted this baby, but every time I see you suffering like this, I keep thinking, ‘Damn you, Mustang. You’ve hurt her again.’” He smiles ruefully, cutting her off before Riza can argue. “And I know that’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it.” He raises his hand from her knee and brushes her bangs back from her forehead. “I just want to do what I can to support you, Ria.”

Riza shies away from his touch.

“And I just want to brush my teeth,” she mutters. Roy hops to his feet and reaches down to help her up, and she glares at him. “I can stand up on my own, Roy. I’m not completely helpless.”

His cheeks tinge pink, and he steps backwards, folding his arms awkwardly behind his back.

“Of course you’re not,” he says quickly as she gets to her feet and shoulders past him to get to the sink, starting the water again and putting toothpaste on her toothbrush. “Nobody who’s spent five minutes in the same room with you could ever think that.”

Riza ignores him and starts to brush vigorously, and after a moment, Roy finally gets the hint and turns to go—hopefully back to bed. 

She doesn’t mean to be short-tempered with him when he’s trying so hard to be patient and loving, but she finds his overbearing hovering stifling and embarrassing. It’s hard to feel anything besides utterly unattractive while she’s vomiting her guts up—which has been happening nearly every morning for the better part of two weeks—and his affection doesn’t help in the slightest. When she tries to gently explain this, he only laughs and tells her she could never be unattractive to him, especially not while she’s carrying his child.

Riza personally doesn’t find the stink of vomit alluring, but there’s no arguing with him, so instead she just gets irritated.

She spits out a mouthful of toothpaste, cringing at the red ribbons running through the frothy white. Just another lovely symptom of what’s supposed to be the most joyful time in her life—bleeding gums.

Riza slowly makes her way back to the bedroom. According to the clock on the wall, it’s already nearing 0530, which means their alarm clock is going to ring soon, and there’s no point in trying to go back to sleep. Her eyes pound, the fatigue that’s been draining her energy makes her long to curl up in bed anyway, but she resists. 

“Feeling better?”

She looks over her shoulder to find Roy coming back into the bedroom with a newspaper tucked under his arm, a glass of orange juice in one hand, and a glass of ice water in the other.

Riza shrugs and sits down on the side of the bed, grabbing her bottle of prenatal vitamins and shaking her morning dosage out into one hand. She accepts her glass of water with a quiet word of thanks and drinks it quickly, trying to avoid gagging again around the huge pills as she swallows them.

Roy sits down on his side of the bed and adjusts his pillow so he can sit up in bed and read the paper along with his orange juice. They used to drink coffee in the mornings, but Riza can’t abide the smell, so he’s switched to orange juice without a word of complaint, even though Riza knows he must be missing the early jolt of caffeine. 

She certainly is.

“What’s going on in the world today?” Riza asks mildly as she stands and goes to the closet to pull down her clothes for the day and lay them out on the bed.

“Utter chaos, I’m sure,” Roy mutters, sipping his juice, his eyes scanning through the newsprint. He always says he likes to read the news with his own eyes before his advisors can try to sugarcoat him and spin him on it.

Riza’s eyes well up with tears again as she watches him flip the page. He’s so perfectly handsome, his hair tousled from sleep, fresh stubble coating his cheeks and chin. It’s still hard for her to believe that they’re actually here.

The Ishbal Accords that were negotiated the year following the Promised Day didn’t clear them of wrongdoing during the annihilation campaign—nothing could ever do that. They were, however, a symbol of peace between Amestris and their newly independent neighbor. The Ishbalan people’s insistence on restorative rather than punitive justice nearly brought the entire treaty down. Mustang argued vehemently in debate with their leaders that at the very least, the soldiers responsible for the worst of the attrocities—the highest kill counts, the experimentation, the action against civilians, women, and children—should be made to serve prison sentences. 

In the end, after days of seemingly endless and pointless negotiations, Scar approached Mustang after hours and invited him to go for a walk. Hawkeye was immediately suspicious and tried to insist on accompanying them, but Roy forbade her, and when he came back in the early hours of the morning—exhausted but inexplicably smiling—he never fully filled Riza in on the details.

He only said that he’d come around to Scar’s way of thinking. They would still give their lives, he told her—just not in the way they’d envisioned. Not languishing in prison and not at the end of an executioner’s rifle. Instead, they would give the rest of their lives in service. They would be faithful allies of the Ishbalan nation. They would work tirelessly to secure the funding needed to rebuild what could be rebuilt of their society. They would spend their days making Amestris a better and stronger country, and then they would have to hope that the groundwork they laid would lead to the brighter future of which they’d both once dreamed. 

It was fitting, Roy insisted, that they weren’t permitted to choose the nature of their atonement. It would have been too easy, otherwise, to let the work fall to someone else, after they were dead and gone.

When Fuhrer-President Grumman called them to his office the following spring to tell them that he planned to retire in two years’ time and was working with the Parliament to set up the country’s first democratic election, Roy and Riza knew that it was time to come out of hiding. They began that very night, and Grumman was absolutely overjoyed to learn that Mustang did, in fact, plan to marry his granddaughter. 

Riza retired quietly from the military, and they were finally free to openly date. She was the unofficial manager of his campaign, and he won the presidency in a landslide. They married not long after, in a small, private ceremony on the grounds of the Presidential Mansion. 

The decision to have the baby wasn't an easy one for either of them, no matter how much they admitted they both wanted to start a family together now that they had the chance. The guilt still gets to them, but ultimately they decided together that the only way to continue moving forward was to be honest with themselves about what they wanted and reach out to take it. 

Riza woke in cold sweat a dozen times in the first couple of weeks after they found out she was pregnant, gripped by dreams of Truth visiting her to rip the child from her stomach in exchange for all the lives she took in Ishbal. When she finally tearfully confessed to Roy what the dreams were about, he held her and cried along with her. They don’t have all the answers, especially about how to talk to their child about their past, but the one thing they agree on is that they’ll do it as honestly as they possibly can, taking into account their child’s age and maturity. 

“You’re staring, Mrs. Mustang.” Roy doesn’t look up from his paper, but there’s a teasing smirk on his lips. Riza hastily turns away, choosing this time not to let him know the sad direction in which her thoughts were running as she brushes tears from her cheeks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says loftily. “I’m just going to take a shower.” She reaches the bathroom and closes the door behind her, just as Roy calls out that he loves her. She smiles softly at her own reflection in the mirror as she replies, “I love you, too.”

—---------

Riza has to admit that one of the best things about being retired is that she no longer has to wear the Amestrian Military blues. Roy has foregone them, too, since his election, aside from ceremonial occasions. It’s an attempt to distance his position from the military dictatorship of the past—that and his insistence on abolishing the title of Fuhrer altogether. She no longer takes a salary, but she still works as Roy’s right hand, filling much the same function as she always has. She’s his adjutant, his secretary, his personal assistant, his closest policy advisor, and his primary bodyguard rolled into one. They’re known in the office simply as President and Mrs. Mustang, and they both wear normal business clothes.

Riza, however, has been dressing a bit more casually lately. Her stomach isn’t big enough yet that she can’t fit her well-tailored suits, but she’s far more comfortable in more loose-fitting trousers and sweater sets, and Roy, of course, has not complained. He still looks incredible in a three-piece suit, though by the end of the day he’s often shed his jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, and Riza often has to remind him to straighten his appearance before they head home or to any evening functions they might have to attend.

“Are you feeling better?” Roy asks her, squeezing her hand as they sit together in the backseat of the presidential limousine. Roy complained that it was an unnecessary luxury, but Riza insisted that it was, in fact, a very necessary security measure, with its bulletproof tinted windows. Roy’s a very popular leader, but even he’s not immune from threats, and she will always put his personal safety as one of her first priorities.

“I’m fine,” Riza replies, mostly truthfully. She was able to keep down some yogurt and a banana, which is more breakfast than her body has tolerated all week. She scoots closer to Roy and rests her head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around her waist.

“I’m worried about you,” he says quietly. “I know it’s normal, but I can’t help myself.”

Riza does seem to have pretty severe morning sickness, but they’ve been assured by her physician that it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Riza smiles up at her husband then kisses the end of his nose.

“If this is the worst of what I have to put up with for us to have a family, it’s more than worth it,” she says warmly, and Roy beams at her. Privately, she worries what an absolute disaster he’s going to be while she’s actually in labor.

The limo slows outside Central HQ, and Riza straightens herself up, smoothing her hands a bit self-consciously over her button-down shirt and sweater. They wait for their security team to perform the requisite crowd checks and open the doors for them, and Roy emerges first, as usual, with an easy smile and a wave for the small crowd of reporters who await their arrival each day. He reaches a hand down courteously to help Riza from the vehicle, and she conceals a wince as the movement makes her lower back hurt. 

“Mr. President!” A reporter calls out with more urgency than usual, and Roy slows his pace with a polite nod, inviting him to ask his burning question. “Is it true that Mrs. Mustang is expecting a baby, sir?”

Roy immediately looks at Riza, and she reads the unspoken question in his eyes.

Are you ready?

She meets his gaze steadily.

As I’ll ever be.

Then, just as they’d rehearsed—prepared for the possibility that the news would leak before she entered her second trimester and they held a press conference themselves—they smile together for the camera that’s shoved into their faces and answer together.

“Yes, it’s true.”

"And we’re very, very happy.”

—---------

Riza sits down at her desk after her third bathroom break of the morning and indulges briefly in resting her elbows on her desk and rubbing her temples. She knows that she’ll have to slow down at work at some point, but it seems impossible given the massive task of governing that sits before them. 

“I cannot believe you!”

She looks up in surprise as Rebecca Catalina marches into her office without so much as a knock. It’s a mark of how close their friendship is that her security guard knows not to bother trying to stop her. Riza smiles wryly.

“It wasn’t intentional,” she says placatingly.

“You tell the press that you’re having a baby before you bother telling your own best friend? I’m genuinely hurt, Riza Hawkeye!”

Riza shrugs.

“We didn’t have much of a choice,” she says. “Once we knew the story had been leaked, we knew we couldn’t lie only to release it later, and a ‘No Comment’ would have looked terrible. Also, it’s Riza Mustang now, if you don’t mind.”

Rececca rolls her eyes and perches herself on the edge of Riza’s desk, crossing her arms over her chest with a disdainful sniff.

“Yeah, and I’m still questioning your sanity for that. Now you spring this on me? You could have told me before now!”

“Be nice, Bex,” Riza says disapprovingly. Her best friend is still antagonistic towards Roy, although at this point it’s mostly for show. 

“Alright, so spill, then!” Rebecca insists. “When are you due? How are you feeling? I have to know everything!”

“I’m due in July, so I’m almost four months in,” Riza replies. “And I feel like absolute shit. I can’t keep anything down, and it really is just in the morning, which is as weird as it is annoying. When you start the day off puking, you just feel awful all day long no matter what.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Rebecca coos sympathetically. “I have this great ginger root tea I used when I was pregnant with Ursula. I’ll bring you some tomorrow. And if it’s only in the morning, you should count yourself lucky! Do you not remember how sick I was?”

Riza nods, recalling the way Rebecca actually walked around with a plastic bag stuffed in her pocket, just in case.

“But at least you’re mostly over the awful part,” Rebecca adds. “And, hey, hopefully that means you should be coming up on… the fun part.”

Riza lifts an eyebrow, and Rebecca huffs, jumping down off the desk.

“See, this is why you should have told me sooner, and I have not forgiven you!” she cries. She glances over her shoulder and lowers her voice. “Do you not remember how insane I went during my fourth month?” she asks. She takes a seat in the chair opposite Riza’s desk.

“I remember you as being consistently insane throughout your pregnancy, actually,” Riza teases. “And I hope to remain free of the same afflictions.”

“Oh, hush!” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “I mean, once I got past the all-day sickness, and the hormones started kicking in…” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You know.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Riza mutters, pulling a file folder towards herself and opening it.

“Oh, yes you do!” Rebecca laughs. “I can see that blush on your cheeks!”

Riza does remember, in excruciating detail, her friend’s far too vivid descriptions of her sex life during the middle phase of her pregnancy. Riza’s never been nearly as comfortable as Rebecca is with talking about intimacy, but that’s never stopped her best friend from filling her in—even when Riza patiently tells her that while she’d be happy to listen to Rebecca’s stories if she were married to just about anyone else on the planet, she really wishes that she had no knowledge whatsoever about what Jean Havoc is like in bed. It’s too weird, and she tries not to listen.

Rebecca cackles gleefully.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” she assures Riza. “As much as I hate him—”

“You do not.”

“Don’t interrupt. As much as I strongly dislike him and think he’s an asshole…” Riza sighs heavily, and Rebecca continues, “Even I can admit that Mustang is, objectively, gorgeous and from the way you refuse to tell me anything—even though it was my idea that got you together in the first place.”

Riza rolls her eyes. She’ll always be just a little bit grateful that Rebecca insisted on taking the photos that inspired Roy to show up at her department, demanding to know whether she loved him, but she has to keep Bex at least a little bit humble, so she almost never dares to acknowledge it. 

“You cannot tell me that you two aren’t going at it constantly,” Rebecca continues to tease. “He never stops touching you; it’s honestly disgusting. You don’t even like to be hugged, and he’s constantly got his arms around you and kissing you. You are the public display of affection king and queen.”

Riza bites her lower lip, refusing to look up. It does occasionally embarrass her a little bit how demonstrative Roy is, but at the same time… after having to hide the way they felt for so long, indulging in the freedom to hold hands and touch and kiss, to luxuriate in the warmth of each other’s presence, day in and day out… Rebecca’s right. Riza isn’t a physically affectionate person, but Roy is most definitely the exception to that rule.

“And now, I have real evidence,” Rebecca adds. “Because you’re pregnant! I can’t believe it!”

“I’m sorry,” Riza says mildly, intent on changing the subject, “but I have actual work to do. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“You don’t even have a job here, technically,” Rebecca replies, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, but you see my husband is a very important world leader,” Riza replies drolly. “Go on. I’ll talk baby with you later, but I really do need to give this a read-through.”

“Oh, fine,” Rebecca says, rising with a pout. “But you’re going to see that I’m right about the fourth month, and I have to tell you that I love that for you!”

“Goodbye, Bex,” Riza says firmly. 

Only Rebecca doesn’t head to the door. Instead, she rounds Riza’s desk and wraps her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m really happy for you, Riza,” she says softly. “For both of you.”

Surprised and oddly touched, Riza rests her head against Rebecca’s briefly.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, only for her voice to break. “Oh, damn it.” She wiggles away from Rebecca, swiping at her eyes with a grimace.

Rebecca plucks a tissue from the box on her desk and hands it to her with a sympathetic shake of her head.

“Oh, yeah. You’re definitely pregnant.”

—--------

Thankfully, Rebecca’s predictions about the morning sickness easing up come true, and by the next week, Riza is feeling almost normal. No longer woken at the crack of dawn by the urge to empty her stomach, she’s sleeping better, and she’s got more energy overall.

“It was a good day,” she tells Roy as she finishes brushing her teeth on a Friday evening. Her gums aren’t even bleeding anymore. He picks up his own toothbrush and smiles at her in the mirror. “I even managed a light workout, which I’ve hardly felt like doing at all. And don’t tell me that I shouldn’t, because I absolutely should be staying active,” she adds as Roy’s eyes glimmer.

He raises an eyebrow at her but just keeps brushing his own teeth, clearly fighting a smile. Riza rolls her eyes at him and goes into the bedroom, stripping out of the workout clothes she wore earlier and getting her pajamas out of the bottom drawer of her dresser. 

As she straightens, she catches sight of herself in the mirror and frowns, putting her hand on her belly. She turns to the side. Unless she’s very much mistaken, there is a little bit of a bump developing there. It’s small, but she brushes her fingers over her abdomen, smiling.

“Hi there, little one,” she murmurs softly. 

She’s so captivated that she fails to notice her husband until he’s standing directly behind her. Her cheeks heat as she looks at his reflection, and the expression on his face echoes the quiet awed joy she feels. 

Roy puts his hands over hers and rests his head on her shoulder, his bare chest warm against her back.

“I see a baby,” he says quietly, a dopey smile spreading over his face.

“Me, too,” Riza replies, shaking her head slightly as though she can’t quite believe it. Even despite the absence of her monthly cycles and the terribly uncomfortable symptoms, this is the first moment where she’s really looked at herself and felt pregnant, and this time she doesn’t try to hide the tears that gather in her eyes. 

Roy puts his hands on her hips and gently turns her to face him.

“You happy?” he asks, and Riza wraps her arms around his neck, sighing.

“So, so much happier than I ever thought I would be,” she admits. “It’s almost frightening.”

It’s terrifying, actually.

Roy presses one warm palm to the center of her back and brings his other hand up to caress her cheek, gently wiping her tears away.

“You don’t have to be afraid of this,” he says sweetly, kissing her forehead. “This is the good part, Ria.”

She nods, and he holds her, swaying slightly back and forth, then puts both of his hands on her stomach, grinning that same dopey smile.

“You’re having my baby.” Riza shivers in the cool of the room, standing there in only her underwear, and Roy stiffens. “Let’s get you in bed before you catch a cold,” he says, rubbing her upper arms with his hands.

“I’m fine,” Riza says, rolling her eyes and donning her pajamas. They meet in bed shortly thereafter, and he kisses her tenderly before wishing her goodnight and turning off the lamp. 

Only Riza doesn’t fall asleep right away as she has nearly every night for weeks. The memory of Roy’s big hands on her bare body and the warmth of his kiss both linger, and she finds herself actually aroused for what might be the first time since they found out she was pregnant. 

Their usually very active sex life had come to a complete standstill, between her tiredness and her sickness. Of course, Roy was nothing less than loving and patient, content with the gentle kisses and caresses she permitted. He only asked her once if she was interested, and of course she wasn't, but she brought him off with her hand, and while he was sweet and assured her he was entirely satisfied, it didn't feel intimate to Riza, and he hasn't asked her to do it again since—probably, if Riza had to guess, feeling guilty about it.

She scoots closer to him under the covers, but he doesn’t reach out towards her. 

“Love you,” she murmurs, quietly enough that if he’s already asleep it shouldn’t wake him.

“Love you, too,” he says right away, and Riza shuffles even closer, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. With a soft sigh, Riza places her hand on his chest and slowly starts to run it through the light sprinkle of hair there.

To her surprise, Roy catches her hand in his, kisses it, then gently places it on the bed. Figuring she hasn’t been direct enough, considering her obvious disinterest of late, Riza raises herself up on her elbow and leans over to kiss him.

Roy’s lips are warm, and Riza sinks her fingers into his hair, trying to deepen the kiss.

Only Roy pulls away.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says quietly, kissing her forehead. He rolls onto his side, and Riza lays there for a moment in stunned silence.

He’s never turned her down before. Granted, she’s rarely the one to initiate things, but she can’t help feeling a little bit stung as she rolls onto her side, too, her back facing his. She tries to tell herself that he’s probably just tired after waking up with her every time she gets sick in the early hours of the morning. It’s been a long week, and he needs to rest. Things are a little off-kilter, and she’s feeling sensitive because of her hormones. Roy will always love her and want her; she knows that.

It’s fine.

—--------

Only the following night, he turns her down again.

“Roy,” Riza whispers to him softly. “Come here.” He draws close and wraps her in an embrace, and his kisses are delightfully slow and soft, lighting the fire inside her that was dampened for so long. 

Then, he stops, wishing her a goodnight and telling her he loves her, and Riza is completely flummoxed.

She waits for a few days, nursing a bit of wounded pride, and when he still hasn’t initiated, she tries again.

“Honey,” he murmurs against her lips. “Haven’t you had a long day?” 

It’s true, because they had an important conference call with the Ishbalan Tribal Council, and it was late by the time they fell into bed, but she misses him.

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I don’t mind.” She tries to kiss him again, but Roy pulls away.

“Let’s just get some rest,” he says, and Riza agrees, because she’s not quite sure what else to do. She certainly doesn’t want to push things if he’s not interested, but she’s pretty certain she’s made it clear that she is, and she’s never known Roy not to be interested in her. 

She resolves to let him come to her, instead, and when he hasn’t made a move or mentioned it at all after another week passes, she starts to question her own sanity.

Because, unfortunately, it seems that Rebecca was also right about this part of pregnancy. Riza starts to feel turned on every chance she catches a glimpse of her husband’s bare chest, every time his lips press to hers. She starts to have erotic dreams, memories of some of their best times together and the things she loves the most, and wakes in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat and soaked between her legs. 

The fourth time this happens, she wakes up physically aching for him, and he’s right there, ridiculously good looking with his pale skin shining in the moonlight. Riza doesn’t even hesitate and straddles his hips, waking him with a kiss.

“Riza,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her. He kisses her back, and their tongues tangle together. Riza can feel his erection forming, and she rocks against him eagerly, pulling her shirt off over her head so she can feel his skin on hers.

She’s hot, and he’s like a cool balm, soothing her frayed nerves as their skin glides together. It’s familiar and intimate, loving and tender, sexy and absolutely perfect.

Until one of his hands cups her breast and gently squeezes. Riza arches her back, breaking their kiss with a hiss of discomfort. Her breast feels terribly sensitive, and his touch is painful in a way it never has been before.

Roy stares up at her in horror, holding his hands up above his head, wide-eyed. His hair stands on end where she was petting it as they made out, and his breathing is harsh.

“Riza?” he questions her, blinking rapidly. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Riza mutters. She lowers her hand to her breast, and when even her own touch makes her feel achy, she grimaces. “It just… hurts.”

“I’m so sorry,” Roy says immediately, even as she shakes her head. “I don’t know what came over me,” he grumbles, raising a hand to his face and rubbing his eyes. “Kissing you just felt so good, and I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Riza replies with a huff. She feels very uncomfortably exposed, sitting astride him with her top off. Her belly is more pronounced now, the baby they made together sleeping between them, blissfully unaware of its parents intense awkwardness. Riza clambers off his lap, laying beside him on her side with her jaw clenched.

“No,” Roy insists. “I shouldn’t just be pawing at you like that.”

“You weren’t,” Riza tries to argue, but he shakes his head.

“It won’t happen again,” Roy says firmly. “I would never ever do anything to hurt you, Ria.” He cups her cheek in his hand and turns to give her a hard but brief kiss.

“Roy, I know,” Riza says. “It’s fine. Honestly. It was me as much as it was you, and I didn’t expect that to happen either. Calm down.”

“You’re so sweet,” Roy groans, burying his face in her neck. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.” 

Riza sighs and runs her fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to pout. Clearly the moment is ruined, but her damn body doesn’t know that. Her core still aches and throbs. She almost asks him to just touch her there, but he’s clearly so freaked out, and she’s worried that her body might betray her yet again, that his touch there might be painful, too.

Eventually, he kisses her forehead and rolls onto his back, apologizing again even as she assures him it’s fine.

Riza tosses and turns all night long.

—--------

The alarm clock goes off just as it always does at 0530, and Roy kisses her forehead before going to get his newspaper, his juice, and Riza’s water. She watches his ass while he walks away. When he comes back, her eyes are drawn to the way his sweatpants ride, low-slung on his hips. She takes her water, thanks him, and swallows her prenatal vitamins. 

She watches his throat bob as he drinks his orange juice, and her eyes follow the line of his tongue as he licks the sweetness from his lips. Riza has to restrain herself from letting out a frustrated whine.

Finally, she rises and goes into the bathroom, setting the shower dial far cooler than she usually does. She stands with her back against the tiled wall and her hand between her legs, sweating despite the refreshingly cool water and the porcelain against her skin.

“Roy,” she whispers, imagining that devilish tongue dancing across her folds. She pinches her swollen clit and chokes back a moan, remembering the feeling of his lips closing around it, the sexy way he growls into her cunt as he showers her with affection. She sinks two fingers deep inside herself, but they’re just too slender. She can’t reach the depths that Roy can, can’t angle her wrist the right way to move as fast as he does, can’t make herself feel the way that her husband does.

“Riza?”

The knock on the bathroom door startles her so badly that she almost slips and falls, hastily moving her hands.

“Are you okay?” Roy calls through the closed door.

“I’m fine,” she calls back. She hastily turns off the shower and grabs her towel, wrapping it around herself and shivering. 

The door opens, and Roy appears, examining her with a furrowed brow.

“It’s getting late,” he says. “I’m not trying to rush you; I was just worried. You never take so long in the shower.”

Because I never have to try to do what you’re supposed to be doing for me!

“Sorry,” she says, biting back her frustration. “I just lost track of time, I guess.”

Roy’s face softens, his mouth pulling into a smile, and Riza’s gone again, drowning in his endless, soulful eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Roy says. He gets out his shaving kit, lathering his face with cream, and Riza watches his razor enviously as he pulls it down over his face, wishing she could be that close to him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Riza nods and steps out of the shower, squeezing the water from her hair and slowly trying to tame it into behaving for her. It’s grown so much thicker and more luscious, and she has to admit it’s beautiful, but it’s also poofy and unmanageable, and she’s quickly growing to hate it. Roy finishes shaving, rinsing his razor in the sink. 

Then he drops his boxers, and Riza is certain that she’s going to have a heart attack, confronted with his shapely thighs and the dark, wiry hair between his thighs, and his cock—which she wants so desperately, hard and throbbing and perfect as it fills her, finally ridding her of this damnable ache that is leaving her empty-headed and utterly, pathetically, uselessly…wet.

Riza scrambles from the bathroom as quickly as her shaking legs will carry her, and Roy starts his shower, apparently blissfully unaware of her predicament.

The unshakable need has been burning inside her for three days since what she has come to mentally refer to as “The Unfortunate Breast Incident”. She’s learned since then that it’s normal for a woman’s breasts to be tender during pregnancy. Even if they were to have sex, she might have to ask him to avoid touching her there, and she knows damn well that will only make him more hesitant. 

She’s basically given up. She can only hope that maybe he’ll decide it’s worth the risk again at some point after she has the baby, but she’s not entirely certain she’s going to survive that long. 

Riza knows that she’s being dramatic, but she feels dramatic. She knows that it’s all a hormonal reaction intensified by a couple of awkward misunderstandings, but she feels so embarrassed by it all—tongue-tied and blushing when she even thinks of trying to tell him how she’s really feeling. She can’t face it.

They eat breakfast together in the kitchen, and Riza can barely hold a conversation as she watches the man eat a damn peach.

Fruit should be illegal. She should draft a new bill to put before the parliament, declaring it punishable by law for a man as gorgeous as Roy Mustang to eat fresh fruit and not fuck his wife while he’s doing it.

They sit beside each other in the presidential limo going over their schedule for the day. There’s a delegation from Aerugo visiting. They have nice beaches there. She pictures Roy in a pair of short swimtrunks, his skin glistening with sun and seaspray, running his hand through his hair as he emerges from the waves, and the water runs down his chiseled body.

She’s be lying on a towel in the sand in a string bikini, her body covered with tanning oil. She loosens the string of her top and rolls onto her stomach, just to get some sun on her back (which is ridiculous, because she never exposes her back in public, and the last thing she’d ever want would be to risk allowing the sensitive scars to be overexposed to the sun). 

She watches his massive shadow approach, and she slowly turns onto her back, forgetting to re-fasten her top, and it falls down, exposing her heavy breasts. He kneels in the sand beside her, his hands strong and sure as they caress her. His lips still taste like sea salt, and he is utterly addictive. He lays her down, right there on the beach and presses his hot cock inside her dripping pussy, and she moans at the stretch as he fills her up, just right, so perfectly. His rich, deep voice sounds right in her ear as he tells her how good she feels, that she is his girl, his good girl, his—

“Riza?”

She blinks.

Roy meets her eyes from across the room, and there’s a hesitant smile on his face, but his eyes are sharp, boring into hers.

They’re in the middle of the meeting with the Aerugonian delegation, somebody has asked her a question that she didn’t hear, and she is making him look bad on the stage of international politics, because she’s a hormonal, sex-obsessed idiot who can’t keep herself from fantasizing about her husband long enough to—

“Sorry,” she mumbles sheepishly. “I think…” She rises carefully, and Roy does as well, taking a quick step towards her. “I just need to step out for a moment.”

“Are you okay?” Roy asks quietly, catching her elbow at the door before she can make her retreat. Breda has stepped in, thankfully, to continue the conversation with the Aerugonians. Riza can barely meet her husband’s eyes, knowing that he’s actually concerned about her when she’s brought this all down on herself and embarrassed him, and it’s all her fault—

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. She tries to smile. “Just a hint of nausea. I guess it really can crop up anytime.”

“Are you sure?” Roy asks, putting his hand on the small of her back. His touch makes her want to rip off her own clothes to feel his bare skin against hers.

“Yes,” Riza says firmly. She knows that he knows she's not being entirely truthful.

“Go home.” Roy very rarely issues her orders these days, but sometimes old habits die hard, and the tone of unmistakable authority in his voice makes her crave the velvety richness of it, washing over her as he orders her—

Come for me, Riza. Come, now.

“Take the rest of the day and get some rest,” he insists more gently, pressing his lips briefly against her forehead.

“Okay,” Riza says quickly, nodding. Right now, she just needs to get away from him before she says or does something she’ll regret. She slips from the room and hurries down the hall to her own office, angry tears falling fast and heavy down her cheeks.

“Hey, Riza—”

She tries to push past Rebecca, but of course her best friend knows her far too well to allow that to happen. She grabs Riza’s wrist and drags her the rest of the way down the hallway, closing the door behind them. She ushers Riza to sit down, then kneels next to her, staring with her mouth wide open as Riza dissolves into noisy tears, burying her face in her hands.

“Oh, honey, what is it?” Rebecca asks, fetching her tissues and patting her knee awkwardly until Riza finally calms down enough to be able to talk.

The whole ridiculous story comes pouring out of her. She strongly suspects a couple of times that Rebecca is fighting the urge to laugh, and she’s supremely grateful for the years of friendship between them that have her holding back, because Riza is certain that she cannot take being teased or made fun of when this whole ridiculous thing feels so raw and painful.

“I did try to warn you about the hormones,” Rebecca says sympathetically. At some point, as Riza talked, Rebecca took her shoes off and began rubbing her sore feet, and even though Riza would normally have balked at taking off her shoes in the office—much less at having her feet rubbed—it feels so good that she doesn’t even object.

“The stupidest thing,” Riza finishes brokenly, “is that you’re right. I don’t like to be touched normally, because… Well, because for so long, I went without. You know what my childhood was like. The idea of being hugged was practically a fairytale to me. It just felt unnatural, but then when Roy and I finally…” She sighs. “It’s so, so good with him, Bex. But then we still had to hide it for so long, and things were so fucked with that. It killed me, sometimes, to be next to him everyday and not be able to touch him. And then we were married, and I finally could, and… Well, again, you’re right. We were the public display of affection king and queen. And he’s still affectionate. He kisses me and hugs me, and he’s so, so loving… I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I have everything I’ve ever wanted—I have everything I never even dreamed I was allowed to want, and I’ve let something so stupid get in the way of what’s supposed to be the happiest time in my life.”

Rebecca sits back with a sigh, shaking her head.

“Okay, first of all, whoever told you that pregnancy is supposed to be the happiest time in your life is a complete idiot,” she says. “Pregnancy sucks. Yeah, it’s the whole miracle of giving life thing and all that; I’m not saying that’s not wonderful, because it is. But the actual experience of being pregnant? I don’t know, maybe there are some women out there going around and saying it’s fantastic, but they’re delusional if you ask me.”

Riza lets out a watery chuckle.

“Secondly,” Rebecca bites her lip. “I hate to say this, honey, but… Roy Mustang loves you.”

Riza rolls her eyes, but Rebecca shakes her head.

“No, all joking aside,” she insists. “That man absolutely adores you. It’s a little bit pathetic. He still moons over you like you’re… I don’t know, like you’re some sort of ethereal fairy princess, and he’s a knight errant hoping he just might be granted your favor if he’s damned lucky.”

Riza snorts which makes a disgusting snot bubble emerge from her nose, and she reaches quickly for a tissue, grimacing. Rebecca is kind enough to ignore it.

“And that’s honestly beautiful,” she continues. “I don’t fully understand all the history between you. I'll never understand why you asked him to burn your back.”

Riza grimaces. She finally had to tell Rebecca the whole story after the Promised Day, because she'd needed help after getting out of the hospital. Rebecca hadn’t been happy about it, of course, but Riza and Roy had been secretly dating for years at that point, and Rebecca eventually came to the grudging acceptance that she didn't have to understand it to be a supportive friend.

"I know you went through some terrible things together—the Promised Day and before that there was Ishbal—”

“No,” Riza cuts her off immediately. “No, we did terrible things together. There’s a difference.”

“Be that as it may,” Rebecca says gently, “the two of you love each other with an intensity and a ferocity that the rest of the world can’t even comprehend. I love Jean more than anything, and I always will, but what you and Roy have? That’s a kind of love that’s in a league of its own. So don’t you ever, ever—even for a tiny moment—doubt that he wants you at least as badly as you want him.”

Riza keeps blotting at her eyes. What Rebecca is saying is sweet and maybe a little bit true, but it doesn’t solve her current problem.

“You just need to talk to him, honey!” Rebecca insists. “Tell him that he’s being an idiot and that he doesn’t have to treat you like you’re made of sugar and spice and everything nice.”

Riza frowns at her, shaking her head.

“You know, the nursery rhyme?” Rebecca says. “Little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice, and boys are made of snails and… something. I don’t remember.”

“I never really understood nursery rhymes,” Riza mumbles, and Rebecca shrugs. 

“Maybe buy a book, before you have the baby. Just a thought. Anyways, my point is that he needs to know you won’t break. You just… have to tell him you want to fuck. It’s as simple as that!”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Riza asks, groaning. “He gets so in his head, and if I tell him how upset this has all made me, it’s only going to make it worse. He’ll feel terrible, and it’s not his fault. It’s nobody’s fault, I guess.” She scowls and pokes at her stomach. “It’s your fault,” she mutters to the baby affectionately. “But I forgive you already.”

Rebecca sits in silence for a few minutes, clearly deep in thought, and Riza tries to clean up her face, quickly running out of tissues and rummaging in her bottom drawer for a new box.

“Aha!” Riza raises an eyebrow at Rebecca, who’s sat herself bolt upright and raises her index finger in the air, a wicked grin splitting her face. “I have the perfect idea!”

—--------

Roy returns from the office that Friday after a long and boring dinner with the Aerugonian officials, and he has to admit to himself that he’s glad to see the back of them. The negotiations went well, but he’s tired after a week of being on his best behavior. 

It was all made more difficult by Riza’s unusual absence. She insisted after leaving the meeting suddenly the other day that she was just tired, but there’s been something almost secretive in her manner, and he’s been too busy to try to tease out what exactly is going on with her. She left the remainder of their visit to Roy, and while he was happy to shoulder the workload, he can’t deny that he missed the usual constancy of her presence. 

He has a couple of memos he needs to draft before calling it a night, so he drags himself into the study that he uses in the residential portion of the President’s Mansion and plops into his chair, rummaging through his drawer for a pen and pad before he can forget all of his thoughts. They’re a jumbled mess, but he jots things down as quickly as he can and decides to leave the rest for the morning when he’s a little bit less tired. 

He stretches and yawns and gets ready to go to bed, but then he notices a manila envelope sitting on his desk. 

It’s marked with a stamp that reads: “Top Secret: President’s Eyes Only” which is extremely unusual. There are only a handful of things that require that level of clearance, and certainly none of them should have been left out in plain sight in his home office. Certainly, none of his staff would have left the folder there, which only leaves Riza.

That’s also highly unlikely, because she would know better than to bring sensitive material like this home. He frowns as he picks up the envelope and slits it open.

There’s photographs inside. He tips them out onto the desk, and his mouth falls open in shock.

They’re all photos of Riza.

Riza. His gorgeous wife.

In lacy lingerie.

For a moment, he thinks these are the same boudoir photos he accidentally found all those years ago—the ones that inspired him to finally get up off his ass and do something about his feelings for her. Only, her hair is longer in these, spilling out over her shoulders in a glorious mess, and as he looks more closely, his eyes land on her stomach.

Her sweetly rounded stomach.

No, these photos are very recent, because Riza is obviously pregnant in them. 

He realizes then that she's not wearing the gauzy robe she donned in the previous set to hide the scars on her back, and he remembers with a pang that he asked her that first night to take more pictures someday with her back exposed, just for him.

His mouth runs dry as he picks one up from the stack and smooths his thumb over it.

Riza looks up from the glossy page with a subtle pout on her red-lacquered lips, black lace clinging to her like a second skin and exposing every one of the gorgeous curves he loves. In the next one, she’s removed the bra, and her arms are crossed over her perfect breasts, just barely hiding them from view.

Roy winces as he remembers the unfortunate incident early last week where he accidentally squeezed her tender flesh too roughly and hurt her, and he feels sick with himself all over again. He’s been trying so hard to be patient and not to bother her with his own stupid desires when she’s already enduring so much for the sake of carrying their child, but he knows he hasn’t been doing a very good job of containing himself. 

He’s been jacking off in the shower every morning before work, imagining how it would feel to have her supple body under his hands, writhing and moaning as he brought her to ecstasy. At times, he’s wondered if she’s wanted the same thing from the looks she’s been giving him and the way she kisses him, but until the other night she hadn’t said a word, and of course she hasn’t brought it up since. He feels like such a lecherous asshole, lusting after her the way he is, but he’s never had much self-control where Riza is concerned.

He keeps flipping through the photos, utterly fascinated as he sees her in various outfits and positions, her features tastefully but barely covered and only enhanced by the risque clothing. In some, she has a gentle smile on her face—in others, a sultry smirk that makes him harden inside his slacks. In a few, she kneels on the bed, facing away from the camera, every line and detail of her scars and the remains of the array on display, her graceful neck arched to look over her shoulder and into the camera lens.

Finally, he reaches the last photograph, and his breath catches in his throat. 

Riza stands near a curtained window, bathed in soft light. She’s standing nearly in profile, at an angle to the camera. She wears a set of dark blue lacy shorts and a matching bra, and her hands are resting on the curve of her belly. Her lips are turned upwards at the corners as she looks down at the baby growing in her womb, and the look of wondrous joy on her face leaves him in no doubt that she is as happy about this baby as he is. She’s ethereally, timelessly gorgeous.

He turns the photo over, and he recognizes her handwriting at once.

I won’t break. Come to bed and love me the way I know you want to. ~Ria

Roy swallows hard and hastily tucks the photos back into their envelope, carrying it with him as he hurries to their bedroom.

He’s unsurprised to find Riza lying on the bed reading a book and wearing the same set of blue lingerie. He closes the door behind him and holds up the envelope, stalking towards the bed.

“Hi,” Riza murmurs, her cheeks coloring in a blush that starts to spread down her neck.

“Hi,” Roy replies. “Somebody left a present in my office.” 

Riza sinks her teeth into her lower lip, and Roy tosses the photos onto the dresser, toeing off his shoes and starting to unbutton his shirt.

“I thought you might like it,” Riza says, watching him.

“Of course I like it,” Roy says, shaking his head at her. “You remembered. I've always wanted photos of you that way with your back uncovered.” She smiles, although there's a hint of sadness to it. “But this is your way of telling me I’ve been neglecting you, isn’t it?”

Riza sets her book down on her nightstand and scoots over so he can sit beside her, taking her hand.

“No,” she says quietly, and he tilts his head, peering down at her. “Well, yes.”

Roy presses his lips to her knuckles, watching her face.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says earnestly. “I thought… Hell, Riza, I thought if you were feeling well enough or wanted to that you’d say something.”

“I tried,” she mumbles. “But I was so… And it’s embarrassing. I felt like maybe I shouldn’t want to or that maybe you didn’t want me—”

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” Roy rushes to assure her. “Riza, I love you. I’ve been going crazy missing you, but I didn’t want to be a pain or to hurt you.” He sighs and presses her hand against his cheek. “I’ve hurt you so many times, in so many ways; I can’t stand the idea of—”

“I know,” Riza says, caressing his cheek with her thumb. “But did you read what I wrote on the last photo?” He nods. “I won’t break, Roy. I want to be with you.”

He leans forward and kisses her. Riza’s mouth is hot and eager, surprising him when she deepens the kiss right away, sweeping her tongue past his lips. He sinks one of his hands into her thick hair, cups the back of her head, and kisses her until they’re both breathless.

“You’ve been wanting me, sweet girl?” he murmurs, watching her face. Riza nods, her eyes fluttering shut as his fingers lightly trace the length of her elegant neck. “Tell me,” Roy requests. “You can have whatever you want; just tell me.”

He only meant to tease her a little, but instead, he watches as her lower lip trembles and a teardrop clings to her blond lashes.

“I-I wanted you so much it hurts,” Riza whispers, the tear splashing onto her cheek. “It’s these damn hormones, and it’s embarrassing, and I thought…”

He realizes then that he’s done exactly what he was trying to avoid by keeping himself away—he’s hurt her.

Roy pulls her close, and she buries her face against his neck, trembling.

“Ria, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, kissing the side of her head and squeezing her tight. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I love you so much, and of course I want you.” He chuckles wryly. “I had to get myself off in the shower every morning just to try to control myself,” he mutters. 

“Really?” Riza asks, pulling back to look at him, and Roy nods. “I-I tried to do the same thing, but I-I couldn’t. I just… I wanted you.”

“So did I, baby,” Roy murmurs, drawing her into another kiss—slower but no less passionate, taking the lead this time as he slides his tongue over hers, delighting in the little shiver he feels travel down her spine. He pulls needily at her lower lip then starts to kiss his way down her neck, sucking softly.

“Make love to me, Roy,” she says, kissing the shell of his ear.

“Yes,” Roy hisses, tugging lightly on her hair, pulling her head to the side so he can keep kissing her neck, and making sure to suck a bruise against her pulse point. Riza doesn’t complain, keeping him close with her hand on the back of his neck. “Lay down,” Roy demands, standing to rid himself of his trousers and sliding his shirt down off his shoulders. He whips his undershirt off over his head and crawls over her.

Riza’s hands sink into his hair, tugging just the way he likes, and Roy moans quietly as he kisses down her throat.

“So beautiful,” he says, fingering the scalloped lace edge of her bra strap. “You bought these for me, too, didn’t you?”

Riza blushes anew, nodding.

“Rebecca helped,” she admits, and Roy only barely refrains from rolling his eyes. The idea of Catalina knowing that they were having issues with their sex life is less than appealing, but he understands she’s Riza’s best friend, and he wouldn’t begrudge her the outlet she must have needed to work up the nerve for this devious little plan of hers.

“I’d say I should thank her one of these days,” he mutters, “but I’d rather not think about it.”

“The pictures were her idea, and she's the one who took them. Both times.”

“Hell, then maybe I will. I’ll buy her a fruit basket or something.”

“She’d rather have jewelry.”

Roy scoffs.

“Yeah, tell that to Havoc.”

“Maybe you should just give him your credit card.”

“Hush, you.”

He kisses the tip of her nose, and she smiles, laying back against the pillows while Roy nuzzles his head down between her breasts. Then he stops, looking up at her in alarm.

“The other night,” he says urgently. “When we were kissing, and I—”

“It’s okay,” Riza says quickly. “It’s normal. Just one of the many joys of pregnancy. Something about milk production.”

His brain short-circuits every time he thinks about Riza breastfeeding, but he brushes the very appealing image aside.

“I don’t want to hurt you, though,” he says. “Should I not…?”

“Just be gentle,” Riza says. “I’ll stop you if anything hurts.”

Roy draws back, regarding her intently.

“Will you?”

She likes a hint of pain in the bedroom, here and there. In fact, he suspects she’d like more than he’s willing to inflict. They certainly… play, from time to time. He’ll tie her up and love her until she’s utterly spent, too exhausted to even move. He’s given her a bit of a spanking a couple of times, and while he could tell she liked it, he was always careful with her.

“Yes, Roy,” she mutters impatiently. He holds her gaze for a moment, checking to make sure she’s telling the truth before he nods and goes back to kissing her sternum, toying occasionally with the edges of the bra. “Roy, don’t tease me,” she complains.

“Ah, but that’s half the fun,” he replies with a wolfish smile. Then she sits up and takes the bra off herself, tossing it across the room and giving him a look of challenge, steely and defiant. Roy raises an eyebrow in return, and Riza huffs. She arches her hips and slips off her panties, tossing them, too. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” Roy says, chuckling. “I should make you this desperate more often, if—”

He’s cut off by her lips pressing firmly against his, and then Riza’s pressing on his shoulders, insistantly pinning him to the bed. She breaks the kiss with a noise that he might call a growl and reaches for the waistband of his boxers, tugging urgently.

His cock springs free, and Roy grins as he watches her face, the obvious want in her eyes. She surprises him again by ducking her head and taking him into her mouth so fast that Roy slams his hand against the mattress, letting out a strangled yell.

“Sweetheart,” he groans. “Oh, hell. You’re so good at that.” 

She bobs her head rapidly, and he bites his lower lip as he watches her, gathering her hair in his hands then letting it spill over her shoulders. He keeps gathering it up again and again simply for the pleasure of feeling it slide through his fingers and tickle his abdomen and thighs. Riza hollows her cheeks, sucking him harder and using her hand to pump the last inch of his length that’s hard for her to take. He’s so pent up that he finds himself close to the edge far sooner than he normally would.

“Riza,” he pants. “You’ve gotta stop if you want me to fuck you, honey.” She doubles down instead, almost aggressively, and Roy chokes. “Fuck, please let me fuck you,” he grunts. Her mouth feels warm and wonderful, but it’s been far too long since he had his cock inside her tight cunt. 

Riza pulls off and flops to her back, reaching for him.

“Then fuck me,” she gasps. 

Roy puts his hands on her thighs, parting them, then he grins down at her.

“I will,” he says slowly. “After I get a taste.” He leans down and nuzzles against her folds with his nose. She smells heavenly—musky and womanly, tangy and uniquely Riza.

She fists her hands in his hair and tugs.

“Don’t you dare tease me, Roy Mustang,” she growls. He hums lightly and takes a careful lick of her slit, trying not to let his eyes roll back in his head. It’s been way too damn long.

“It’s only fair,” he murmurs, littering her plush pink lips with little kisses. “You got to taste me.”

Riza groans, yanking his hair again.

“I swear,” she snarls, “I will…” 

She buries her face against her bicep.

“You’ll what?” Roy murmurs, letting his tongue find her clit and tapping lightly.

He’s surprised when she tugs his hair again, and he resists her direction. He’s never exactly known her to turn down oral before. It’s also been a few weeks, and he’s not quite sure she’ll be able to take him easily without an orgasm first.

“I’ll…. Shoot you!” Riza groans, rocking her hips up against his face.

Roy can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. 

“I think my bodyguard might have something to say about that,” he teases. He kisses her thigh, sucking and biting lightly.

“Roy,” Riza whimpers, and he looks up, startled to realize that she’s in tears once again. “I asked you not to tease. Please, can’t you just—?”

Immediately, he crawls up over her and kisses her lips. He recalls then that she said something about hormones and realizes that she’s not just flirting—she’s genuinely desperate enough for sex that she’s crying. He damns himself for a fool, wishing he’d been more observant, more communicative—anything that could have prevented her from feeling this way.

“I’ve got you,” he promises tenderly, abandoning all thoughts of doing anything besides giving her exactly what she needs. “I’ll take care of you, love.”

“Please,” Riza whispers again against his lips, trembling.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He notches himself against her and slowly starts to sink into her, watching her face for any sign that she’s uncomfortable. 

Riza lets out a sob, and he almost pulls out before he gets started, but she grasps his hips, her nails stinging his ass, and arches her back, tugging him down and impaling herself on his cock.

“Riza,” he groans against her hair.

“Yes,” she hisses. “Move, Roy. I need—” She breaks off with another hitching sob, and he takes a deep breath, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her head.

“I know,” he says, pulling back, then slowly burying himself inside her again. “I need you, too.”

Riza whimpers.

As he’d suspected, she’s tight, and he keeps his movements slow at first, opening her up as she whines incoherently, clutching his shoulders.

Roy shudders above her. It’s intense—not just because of the absence—but the way she needs him is shattering, humbling. A stab of guilt hits just behind his ribs, and he grits his teeth, utterly determined to love her long and well, to completely satisfy every desire she has that he’s been leaving unfulfilled. 

“My sweet wife,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Roy,” she gasps, widening her hips so he slides deeper on his next stroke. “Oh.”

“That’s it. I’m gonna give you everything you need.”

Roy holds himself up on his forearms, hesitant to rest his weight against her rounded belly, and a drop of sweat glides down his back.

Riza’s eyes flutter open, and she raises her hands to the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. They groan into one another’s mouths, tongues and bodies sliding together in steamy heat. 

It’s agony and bliss rolled into one, and Roy’s surprised how quickly he starts to tire, breaking their kiss just to suck in air.

“Can you touch your clit for me, sweetheart?” he growls into her ear. She moans and nods, bringing one of her hands down between them. “Open your eyes,” Roy demands.

She does and gives him a tremulous smile. Roy grins back at her as he watches the light reflected in her big brown eyes. He dips his head, pressing his lips to her forehead, and Riza shudders against him.

“That’s it, baby,” he urges her. “Rub that clit while you come for me, Ria. Let me watch you.”

He can feel her hand working furiously between her thighs, and before long her eyes clench tightly shut. She grips his forearm with one hand, the other still moving between them, and he has the very great joy of watching the orgasm roll over her in a massive swell, from head to toe. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “You’re so beautiful. I love you.”

“Roy,” she keens, then hisses suddenly, both of her hands pressing against his chest.

Roy freezes.

“What?”

“I’m okay,” Riza gasps. “Just… Can we…?” She pushes again against his chest, and Roy withdraws from her body with a quiet groan, sitting beside her on the bed, his chest heaving. 

“What is it?” he asks urgently.

“Just… Hold on,” she mutters.

She sits up and turns around, grabbing two pillows from the head of the bed. Roy realizes then what she’s trying to do, and he grins.

“You’re so, so good to me.”

Riza kneels, facing the headboard, wrapping her arms around the pillows to support her upper body and looks back over her shoulder at him with a breathless laugh.

“I needed to change positions, so I just wanted…” She shrugs one shoulder, still smiling.

“You can have whatever you want,” Roy vows. “Everything you want.”

He drapes his body slowly over hers and slides his cock through her slick folds. Now that she’s taken the edge off her own want, Riza endures the teasing more readily, grinding against him. 

They moan together as Roy hilts himself inside her once more. He presses his face against her back, moving his mouth slowly over the sensitive scars, kissing and licking here, sucking there. He’s always especially careful, because he knows that if he uses too much pressure or too little pressure, the touch can go from pleasurable to painful, or to pins-and-needles as the damaged nerves light up. But he also knows that it’s one of Riza’s favorite things, to be kissed here by him, and he counts it as an honor that she lets him anywhere near her scars. Letting him love her there is intimate beyond words; it’s a special privilege to be allowed to give her pleasure when he was once the source of so much pain.

He balances on one hand and runs the other up her flank, relishing in her soft, smooth skin. He moves up the side of her waist and gently palms one of her breasts. Riza hums happily, rutting back against him until Roy sees stars behind his eyelids.

He trails his hand back down, and his fingers caress her belly. Riza moans so suddenly and loudly that she claps her hand against her mouth, looking back at him over her shoulder.

“Oh no you don’t,” Roy laughs. “You better let me hear you.”

She slowly draws her hand away, whispering, “Sorry.”

Roy cups the fullness of her round stomach with his hand, and Riza arches her back, moaning for him again only a little more quietly. He cradles in his hand the little life they’ve made together through this very act of love, and he can’t help but feel so damned privileged. There’s nothing he could ever have done to earn this—the love of this extraordinary woman and the promise of the family they’re making together. He can only be grateful to have them anyway.

“I love you,” he murmurs into her ear, kissing behind it.

“F-Feels so good, Roy,” she answers. “Love you so much.”

The pleasure is only growing—white and hot and beautiful, and he makes sure she’s right there with him by trailing his hand down between her legs.

She moans encouragingly as he swipes his thumb gently against her clit.

“I want to see you fall apart for me again,” he says lowly. “What do you need?”

“Just… Just keep…” Riza gasps. “I’m close, Roy.”

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, thrusting faster as he rubs her swollen nub, rolling it with his thumb. Riza cries out, arching her back again, and Roy comes, keeping his finger moving purposefully, trying to draw out every last moment of her climax as he empties himself inside her.

Finally, Riza sags forward against the pillows, and Roy rolls to his side.

“Come here," he grunts as soon as he's able to draw a full breath, grabbing her gently around the waist and pulling her close. 

He hears a quiet sniffle. 

"Ria?”

He puts his hands on her shoulders, holding her far enough away that he can see her face, and surely enough there are tears on her cheeks again. 

"Thank you,” she gasps. "I-I needed that so much.” She burrows her head against his shoulder, and Roy pets her hair. "I'm sorry,” she mumbles. "I hate this.”

"The crying? Sweetheart, it's alright. You can't help it.” He's seen her cry more in the past four months than in the previous ten years, and he has to admit that it's a little unnerving, but he knows it’s because of the hormonal surges associated with pregnancy. "I just… I need you to talk to me, so I can fix it when I can. I know I won't always be able to, but I won't know if you don't tell me what's bothering you.”

"I'm sorry,” she snivels, clenching her hand on his shoulder. "I-I tried, but…”

"I know,” Roy says soothingly. "I'm sorry for making assumptions and not asking you about it. I should have been paying more attention to what you were trying to communicate without words.” He smiles a bit ruefully and kisses the top of her head. "Somehow it feels like we used to be better at that before we started being honest with each other about our feelings.”

Riza gives a watery chuckle, and he can feel her finally starting to relax against him. He massages her shoulders as best he can while still keeping her in his arms.

"And you did find a way to tell me. A very inventive way and sexy as hell. Those photos. I don't think you have any idea how beautiful you are.”

Riza blushes and rolls her eyes at him, then leans up to kiss his cheek.

“Help me up so I can go to the bathroom?”

Roy sits up and holds out his hands, helping her balance as she awkwardly makes her way to the side of the bed and gets to her feet.

“Your legs are shaking,” he notes, leering at her. “I guess I did something right.”

Riza swats him on the shoulder before lumbering away, and Roy chuckles as he lays down on his back, folding his hands behind his head. Riza comes back carrying a damp washcloth for him to clean up while she changes into pajamas—not her usual sweatpants and t-shirt, he notices, but rather a forest green colored slip that he vaguely recalls buying for her ages ago but which she hardly ever wears. It’s not quite lingerie, but it does have lacy trim and the skirt is made up of a soft, gauzy sort of fabric.

“That looks pretty on you,” he says, perfectly aware that he’s wearing a sappy smile and not caring in the slightest. 

Riza grimaces.

“My sweatpants are getting too tight,” she admits. “I’ve been making due with skirts and looser blouses for work, but I’m probably going to have to get some maternity things.” 

“We could go shopping together this weekend if you want,” Roy suggests, pulling back the bedclothes so she can bundle herself up under them. 

Riza lays down on her side and scoots back against him. 

“You don’t have to do that,” she mutters. Roy wraps his arm gently around her waist, nuzzling the back of her neck.

“Just because you hate clothes shopping doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy the chance to spoil you a little,” he says. Riza shrugs.

“I’d rather we stay in bed all weekend.” Roy raises his eyebrows at that and lets out a low whistle. She groans and covers her face with her hands. “Ugh, I don’t know what's wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Roy admonishes, pulling her hands away from her face. “You said something about hormones before; is that a thing? Being pregnant making you…?”

“Apparently, it’s a thing,” Riza confirms. “And it’s annoying.”

“I’m not complaining,” he murmurs. “Nor am I arguing with your suggestion about what we do with our weekend. We can sleep in a little. Have breakfast in bed. I have a few calls to make, and I’d like you to go over my notes from tonight with me, but maybe we can sneak back up here in the afternoon.”

Rather than stiffly reminding him that he has “more important things to do” as he half-expects, Riza lets out a happy sigh and snuggles back against him.

“That sounds nice.”

Roy chuckles.

“You know, I think I’m going to like you pregnant and horny.”

“Shut up.”

“Will you wear some more of that pretty lingerie you had on in the photos for me?” he asks, kissing her bare shoulder.

“That depends, will you stop teasing me?”

“Probably not,” he admits. 

She’s quiet for a moment then lets out a quiet groan of frustration.

“I hate that it won’t matter. I’ll want you anyway,” she complains. 

Roy presses his hand flat against her belly.

“And I’ll be here to take care of you,” he promises. “Anytime you want; as often as you want.”

Riza lays her hand over his, lacing their fingers together. 

“I love you,” she says quietly, turning her face up towards him.

Roy kisses her softly.

“I love you, too,” he says sincerely. “Both of you.”