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For as long as Riza has known her, Rebecca has always had a problem with knocking.
Admittedly, Riza has only known Rebecca for a few months- since they started school together at Central City's military academy. With them being the only two women in their graduating class, the school's staff has assigned them their own room. The thing is tiny, maybe a hundred or so square feet, with a twin-sized bunk bed, a sad excuse for a desk, and a connected bathroom that has a shower she can barely fit in, a toilet, and a sink.
So, they've ran into many issues, such as this. Riza stands in the awkward gap between the desk and the bunk bed, trying to change into fresh clothes after a shower. She's not even sure what Rebecca was off doing and tells herself that she doesn't particularly care despite the twinge of jealousy that wells up in her chest at the thought of Rebecca spending time with one of their male classmates. There's more important things to worry about right now, anyway.
For instance? The fact that Riza has no shirt on. She was actually just pulling her pajama bottoms up when Rebecca threw the door open, and her back is facing the room's entrance, completely and utterly bare, her hair far too short to cover it. Thank god no one else is in that hallway right now.
It is not necessarily uncommon for Rebecca to have bad timing in these situations, but usually, Riza is facing away from her or has her shirt on. Now, Rebecca- sweet, protective, loving Rebecca- has seen her entire back, and is shutting and locking the door with a shocked expression on her face. Anxious, Riza drops the clean shirt in her hands without even realizing it.
"What the hell is that!?" Rebecca exclaims.
"Rebecca!" Riza scolds her in return, shifting so that her back is facing the wall and so that she is facing Rebecca. Never mind the fact that her breasts aren't covered either, she storms up to the other woman and jabs a finger into her chest with a furrowed brow and a sharp glare. "How many times have I told you about knocking before you-?"
She doesn't even get to finish. Rebecca, always so loose with touch, grabs Riza's wrists and spins her around to take a closer look at it. Riza isn't even offended- no, Rebecca is just like this. On their first day here, Rebecca stuck to her like glue and hasn't left, and she's always been too comfortable; too touchy. Riza has grown used to that. She likes it, at times, even. Her main concern is Rebecca realizing what the red markings on her back truly are and going scorched earth over the fact that she's been branded like cattle.
"Riza," Rebecca gasps. Meanwhile, Riza is pretty much pinned to the wall, Rebecca's hands wrapped around her wrists. Her face flushes in embarrassment, not just from her back being revealed like this, but from the oddly erotic way that Rebecca is touching her. Over the last few months, Riza has felt increasingly baffled by her feelings for her new friend- the butterflies in her stomach, the heat that twists somewhere deep inside of her when she gets too close like this. She has only felt like this for someone two other times; a boy at the town market who used to give her food for free, and her father's old apprentice, Roy Mustang. She never told either of them, so neither of those crushes ever went anywhere, but she had always assumed she only liked men… Until meeting Rebecca. "Is that a tattoo? Holy shit-"
"Will you stop being so nosy, Rebecca?" Riza interrupts. Tattooing isn't even legal in Amestris, especially not for members of the military. "It's just…"
She hopes that she'll be able to get away without explaining herself. Let Rebecca think that it's a tattoo, throw a shirt on, and forget about the whole thing. Right as she starts tossing around ideas for excuses in her head, though, Rebecca seems to put the pieces together.
"Is this… A burn?"
Of course, Rebecca would recognize an injury with a close enough look. She's been taking medic classes on top of the regular coursework, and she's too smart to be fooled.
"Yes. Now let me go," Riza huffs. Rebecca releases her, so she turns around, hands on her hips, and says- "It's a very long story, I don't want to talk about it, and you are absolutely not, under any circumstances, to tell anyone about this, ever! Do you understand?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Rebecca, usually much more stubborn, agrees, apparently convinced by Riza's intensity. "But can I ask one thing?"
"Fine," She sighs. "What is it?"
"Was it someone here who did that to you? Because if so-"
"No. No one here," Riza already knows where Rebecca would've gone with that; because if so, I'll kill them myself. She should, perhaps, be slightly disturbed by Rebecca's quick attachment and intense over protectiveness of her, but if she's being completely honest, it's just nice to be loved. So nice that, against her better judgment, she crosses her arms over her chest and spills everything in a hushed whisper. "It was my father. He was an alchemist, and these are his very sensitive, top-secret research notes about flame alchemy. He didn't want to write them in the traditional sense and risk someone decoding his notes, so he used flame alchemy to burn them into my back."
"You're saying this like that's a perfectly sane thing to do to your daughter," Rebecca's words come out almost like a gasp, clearly horrified. Meanwhile, Riza has screwed her eyes shut to keep tears from welling up in them. "Riza, don't tell me- did you agree to this?"
"Well, no. He made us dinner and tea one night when I was fifteen or sixteen. I should've known something was wrong, given I'd been doing everything around the house since I was four, but I was so happy that I didn't bother questioning why," She explains. "Whatever he put in the tea knocked me out before I could even touch my food. I woke up at the dinner table with no shirt and a burning back, and we… Never really talked about it afterwards. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together on my own since he'd been manic about not being able to find a safe place to keep his research for months leading up to it, despite his apprentice offering multiple solutions that would've worked."
For a long, tense moment, there's nothing but thick silence in the air. Riza forces her eyes open to see Rebecca staring at her with a rage-reddened face.
"…I hope you know that I'm gonna kill him."
"I genuinely wish you could, but he's already dead," Regardless of the situation, a small chuckle falls from between Riza's lips at the mental image of Rebecca Catalina beating the ever-living hell out of her father. "Liver cancer took him a few years ago. He knew it was terminal and could never have afforded treatment. I suspect that's why he was so desperate to record his notes on me before the end. I just wish he would've asked. I loved him, back then. I would've said yes to anything if I thought it'd make him love me."
"Riza…" Rebecca trails off.
For the first time ever in their friendship, it's apparent that she's at a loss for words. Riza suddenly becomes hyper aware of the fact that her back is still bare, vulnerable, being looked at so intently by Rebecca's coffee-hued eyes.
"Let me cover up," She whispers and bends to pick her shirt up off of the floor, facing away from Rebecca again. "It's unsightly-"
"Don't you start, Riza Hawkeye! I didn't even say that," Rebecca interjects. Then, her fingers are on Riza's back, and Riza thinks that she might actually be dying. "It's actually pretty, in a weird way," It is the first and only time that someone has called her, or any part of her, pretty. Rebecca says it with so much reverence, trailing her delicate fingertips over the thin, red lines that have been burnt into her skin. "But it's also dry and cracking. Are you not using ointment or moisturizing it in any way?"
"Well…" Riza had never thought about it. It isn't as if she can reach it on her own, and her father certainly hadn't cared. Then, during the short time that she'd let Roy study it, he was so flustered at the prospect of being in the same room as a shirtless woman that he'd been useless anyway; not that she'd have ever asked him to do such a thing on her own. She thinks of him and smiles. He's been in Ishval for a little while now and hasn't written her once. Probably been just busy- hopefully, doing some good with everything she entrusted to him. "No."
"Go get on my bed," The words are clearly platonic. Simple, friendly instructions that should not make Riza blush, and yet they do. "I'll lotion it up, make it feel a bit better, probably. Then you can get a shirt on and go to sleep. You probably need the rest."
"Oh," Rebecca's explanation shouldn't disappoint Riza. It doesn't disappoint Riza (and yet, it does). "Okay."
Riza does as she's told and sits on the bottom bunk; Rebecca's. The sheets and covers are the military standard, scratchy and dyed a boring shade of dark blue that Riza is already growing tired of, but the pillow smells like strawberry shampoo and the sheets smell like remnants of cotton candy perfume. She brings her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them as her heart pounds so hard that she can feel it in her ears. Rebecca is already behind her with some sort of unscented cream, rubbing her hands together to warm it.
Then, Rebecca's hands are on her. They're unnecessarily gentle at first, gliding so softly across Riza's marred skin that the cream doesn't even fully seep into her. Fingers and palms go over her lower back, close to her ass, only to slide back up to her shoulders. Rebecca repeats this cycle, gradually adding more pressure until the cream has sunk in. Even then, though, she doesn't stop- just keeps rubbing Riza's sore, dry back until it's moist and bearable again. The 'moisturizing' turns into a full on massage, that of which Riza can't bring herself to object to.
Her only problem is that she wants more. More of Rebecca's kind words, more of Rebecca's sure touch. Her face is flushed and there's a noticeable pool of arousal building in her core that has her hoping, praying that Rebecca can't tell. And as if the situation isn't bad enough, those wonderful fingers are digging into her skin, working out knots that she didn't even realize existed. Before Riza can stop it, a small whimper claws up her throat.
She immediately goes rigid. Somehow, her face burns even darker.
"It's okay if you make a little noise, y'know," Rebecca whispers, low and husky in her ear. Oh, god. This is how she's going to die. On a bunk bed at the military academy, massaged into a puddle of want by her best friend. "You can't be expected to keep it all in."
"I-" She sucks in a sharp breath and forces herself to sit up straight. "Okay."
So, the massage continues. Long, nimble fingers against scarred, sensitive, touch starved skin. It's so good that Riza's breaths become shaky and uneven. Somehow, they end up readjusting so that Riza can lie on her stomach. Rebecca straddles her, knees on either side of her hips, hands on her back once again. The weight of her is warm and comforting. Every time she leans down, her long, loose chocolate curls brush over Riza's shoulder blades. Then, she feels something else, pressed warm and firm to her skin.
Lips.
Heart skipping a beat, Riza sits up on her forearms and glances back. Right there on the middle of her shoulder, there's a ruby red lip print. She looks up to meet Rebecca's gaze and is met with a guilty smile instead.
"Sorry," Rebecca says with a nervous laugh. "Couldn't help myself there."
"I liked it," Riza rushes to respond before Rebecca can pull away, leaning into the other woman to try to beckon her back. "I want more."
"You sure?" She laughs again, but acquiesces, pressing her lips to Riza's shoulder once again- then again, and again, until she's stained with smeared crimson all over her upper back. "I might not be able to stop once I really start."
Riza isn't experienced enough to know exactly what that means, but she likes the sound of it enough to nod and plead-
"Please."
"Okay, okay. I won't make you beg. At least not tonight," Admittedly, Riza likes the sound of that, too. Rebecca's hands ghost over her back for just a little longer before drifting to the waistband of her pajama pants. Both the pants and the plain cotton panties underneath are dragged down her long legs, pulled from her ankles and tossed to the floor. "Here, pretty. I'll give you what you want."
Rebecca moves again, trying to shift down and in between her legs, completely away from her. And it's not that she doesn't want it, not at all, but the prospect of doing something so new without Rebecca right next to her to talk her through it makes her nervous. So, she objects with-
"Wait. I want you to stay up here… By me."
"I can do that. Roll over for me," Rebecca instructs. Riza rolls onto her back and looks up just in time to see Rebecca dressing down to her undergarments; a frilly red thong and matching push-up bra that are, honestly, somewhat ridiculous to wear at a military academy- not that Riza is complaining. No, it's much too difficult to complain when the lace accentuates the perfect mounds of her breasts and the shape of her waist- when Rebecca is coming to her, nestling in the crook of her arm, resting her head on her shoulder, sliding a hand down to grasp one of her thighs and spread it apart from the other. "Is this better?"
"Yes, but I-" Riza swallows the lump of nerves in her throat. She can't believe that this is happening. Rebecca Catalina is in the same bed as her, her fingertips lightly tracing the junction between Riza's thighs and center. "I've never done anything like this before, Rebecca."
"I know," She says this as if it's obvious. Riza wonders if it is. Riza also finds herself wondering if Rebecca has done this before, and finds herself irrationally jealous of whoever has had this privilege before her. Two of Rebecca's digits slide through her folds, teasing, grazing her clit. "You'll just have to follow my lead for once, won't you?"
"Hmph," Riza pouts and turns her head, screwing her eyes shut again.
This earns her Rebecca's other hand on her chin, grasping it to make her face her again.
"Don't be bratty," The two fingers slip into her, crooking at the same time that Rebecca's thumb is pressed to the sensitive spot just above. It's apparent that Rebecca knows what she's doing- the fingers move inside of her in a slow yet deep motion, and her thumb is careful to massage around the hood of her clit to ease her into the sensation. An orgasm starts to build, much quicker than it would have if she were doing this herself with her clumsy, inexperienced hands. Then, right when she's about to open her mouth to ask for more, Rebecca's thumb is directly on her clit and moving in tender circles. Riza imagines that she must look like a complete and utter mess; shower-damp golden hair splayed underneath her head, skin flushed, expression wanton, legs shaking, hips canting, little whines and soft moans falling from in between her parted lips as she stares into Rebecca's coffee-hued eyes. "Y'know, you're actually even prettier like this, and that's saying a lot."
"You're the only person who's ever called me that."
Riza doesn't know why she admits this, or why the thought crosses her mind again in the middle of something so intense.
"What, pretty?" Rebecca asks, mild surprise tinging her voice. She kisses Riza's the front of shoulder, her neck, her lips. Red lipstick is smeared everywhere. Riza never wants to wash it off. "Well, that's surprising to me. Because you are so pretty, Riza."
"So are you," She whispers back.
Their lips find each other, sliding together. Rebecca tastes like makeup and candy, like sweetness and reassurance, all wrapped into one. Riza doesn't really know what she's doing- this is her first kiss, too- but she tries to match the needy movements of Rebecca's hungry lips and tells herself that she's doing just fine.
Within minutes, it gets to be too much. A perfectly aimed thrust of Rebecca's fingers makes her shatter with a cry that is muffled by Rebecca's perfectly plump lips.
"You did so good," Rebecca whispers as she works her through, her touch tapering down to become more gentle until it fades to nothing.
She slides her fingers out and, in an absolutely filthy gesture, puts them to Riza's mouth. Riza doesn't even question it, just opens and allows said fingers to drag over her tongue until she sucks them clean and tastes the salty, tangy, sweet flavor of her own arousal.
"Thank you," Her words come out breathless as she pulls back to speak, meeting Rebecca's lust-glazed eyes. "But what about you? Don't you want to…?"
"I will," Rebecca says, certain. Then, she's climbing off of Riza, off of the bed, and bending to dig through the duffel bag that she's pretty much been living out of since they started here. "Hold on while I find it."
Riza sits up on the bed, back propped up on Rebecca's pillow as she watches the other woman undress and pull an odd object out of the bag. It's small, shiny, and black, shaped oddly like a bullet. Without any explanation, Rebecca climbs into Riza's lap, hovering above her with her knees on either side of her hips and her muscle-toned ass pressed to Riza's thighs. Whatever the black object is, Rebecca twists it clockwise, which seems to make it emit a loud buzz.
A vibrator, maybe? Riza has heard of them, relatively new inventions that are used to make women orgasm, though she's never seen one in person. It's a miracle that it got past the security checks that all of their items had to go through upon enrollment.
Rebecca reaches over to the desk that's just within reach to turn her sound machine on next. It immediately starts emitting the same noises that it always does; a poor-quality loop of the same three minute recording of rain and thunder. At the three minute mark, it will awkwardly cut before replaying. Riza thinks back to any other time she's heard it used- infrequent, always by Rebecca at night, only for small chunks of time. Riza had always assumed that it was some odd strategy to help her sleep, but she wonders now if every single time she's heard the loop from atop her mattress, Rebecca has been just a few feet below using her vibrator and hiding it with white noise.
The thought kills her. They probably could've been doing this from the very beginning.
Rebecca shifts to slide the vibrator between her legs, holding it there. Riza simply looks up at her with a confused expression. What exactly is she supposed to do here? Does she… Does she ask?
"You can just watch," Rebecca, apparently able to read Riza's mind, offers. The idea sounds appealing. Her next idea sounds even more appealing. "You can touch me, too, if you want. Whatever you're comfortable with."
"Okay."
At first, she does stick to simply watching, admiring Rebecca's body. Rebecca is taller than her, paler than her, and so wonderfully smooth that Riza can't help how her own hands move to explore the expanse of newly revealed skin. Her gaze drops to where Rebecca holds the vibrator to herself and finds that the delicate folds there are different than her own, colored a beautiful shade of taupe instead of the rosy pink that she's used to seeing on herself. She glances up at Rebecca's breasts. Creamy pale mounds, adorned with large, taupe-hued nipples.
Perfect. And so, so very pretty- though Riza's sure that Rebecca has heard that compliment a million times by now. She wraps her arms around Rebecca's thinner body and pulls her in, burying her face in her chest and sighing with relief when she's immediately enveloped in warmth and weight on either side of her head. Riza's hands move to grab at them, clumsily kneading, thumbs working over her nipples as she moans in her lap.
Rebecca's hips are rocking down to meet the vibrator. She presses a button on it, to which the sound gets louder. A moan leaves her and has Riza wondering, was that a good noise? Or is she doing this wrong?
"Rebecca-" Riza shakily starts, but Riza immediately interjects.
"That's it; touch me more, Riza," Rebecca gasps. She must be close- her body is tensing and tightening, just like Riza's had before she came earlier. "I just wanna feel you."
"Like this?"
She massages Rebecca's waist, grazes over the little pouch of softness at the bottom of her abdomen, cups her breasts again and leans forward to kiss them.
"Perfect," Rebecca breathes with a hurried nod. She's arching into both Riza's face and the vibrator, a steady stream of curses and wanton noise leaving her. "Fuck, I'm close," She leans down, nearly hunching, touching her forehead to Riza's. Their lips brush once, twice, three times. "I'm close, I'm close-"
Then, Rebecca is crying out again, so loud that Riza prays it's somehow drowned out by the sound machine. She freezes and gasps, body twitching, coffee-hued eyes screwed shut. When it's over, she turns the vibrator off and tosses it onto the bed so that she can slump in Riza's arms. Riza holds her easily, arms wrapped tightly around her body, both of their hearts racing. She's pretty sure of what just happened, but still finds herself asking just to be sure-
"Did you-?"
"Yeah. Just- give me a minute," Rebecca says, resting her head on Riza's shoulder and smiling against it. "But I'm not done with you yet, if you don't want me to be."
"I don't."