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Not Yet to Your Door

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On Saturday night they fuck. They both drink too much – a rarity, since he's normally the only one who imbibes, and can usually tell his limits – they stumble back to his place, and barely make it across his messy living room into his bedroom.

They don't kiss, because by the time they're safe in his apartment Roy is already hard and Riza just drops to her knees, because why waste time with the polite things when they both know what they're really looking for? She takes him deep, turning her tongue this way and that until his hands in her hair are no longer pulling her towards his hips but pushing her away.

He pulls her close and they both fall backwards into the unmade bed. They don't bother getting naked, because neither one likes the feel of the other's scar tissue against their own flesh. Riza hikes up her skirt and shimmies out of her panties, but when she goes to straddle Roy he growls against her breast and wraps a strong arm around her waist, easily flipping them over and taking control.

The rhythm he sets is hard, but Riza can keep up. He keeps his eyes closed the entire time, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, and so she wraps one arm around his neck and slips the other one between them, forcing herself over that edge just before Roy shudders and groans and collapses against her. They're both satisfied.

She doesn't think twice about spending the night, but leaves just after first light, well before he wakes up. She spends the rest of the day picking the encounter apart in her mind, unable to decide how to feel – if it was for the best, if it was inevitable, if it'll happen again and if she wants it to happen again.

On Monday, Roy comes into the office with bite marks on his neck, and Riza knows they aren't from her.