The Wolf and the Bookworm

TITLE: The Wolf and the Bookworm
DATE: August 15, 2007
RATING: Mature; NC-17 (possibly)
WARNINGS: Sexual content, hetero, yaoi, spoilers for the anime if you haven’t watched
PAIRINGS: Kimbley/Schiezka, KimRoy, Royai, Falman/Schiezka
SUMMARY: [AU] Zolf Kimbley wants a way to Fuhrer Mustang, and his secretary Schiezka is just perfect.
COMMENTS: This was born thanks to my lovely Malice. We started out trying a Kimbley/Schiezka, and it didn’t get very far, but I though, hell, you know what, I’ll try my hand at it. She’s a great muse and the pairing, while most of you would find stupid, I find quite intriguing. Come on, odd pairings rule! And we all know Schiezka and Falman have a bit of a moment in episode thirty-seven.

This is anime based, I’d like to remind. Roy defeats the Fuhrer, and, after a lot of hard work, he finally reaches the top, but withdraws from society. Riza and his faithful people followed him. This is about ten years after, and obviously, Kimbley survived. Scar didn’t get to kill him!

Beware, this is my first sexual (though it’s not really graphic) with a hetero pairing, and it is my first every published so constructive criticism is welcome. And… flames for the fireplace are always nice. Here’s the first chapter.













Christmas.

While it was still about a month away, the scenery, background music and the people made it seem like it was just the eve before, ranting on about lists, delving into deep conversations about plans, and the trees that adorned the streets in front of particular shops or vendors, all decked out in (mostly) hand-made ornaments that made children squeal in excitement, adolescents eager to destroy and adults ogle the most out of every thing, were as gorgeous as the clear night sky.

The walks were crowded with animated people, all fervently going to their places of business, whether it be to shop, eat, or work, never minding that the world wasn’t all that happy or that the military was busy covering up something else. They were happy in their beautiful city, and to be honest, there was no need for concern. Fuhrer Mustang solved all their problems; he was a blessing in the guise of a handsome man who seemed to taken quite a liking to becoming a recluse. But that wasn’t their concern either, because the holidays were coming up, and to them, the only thing that ever truly mattered was the moment and being happy. The world was so depressing without happiness.

Streets were colored with a brush of the plainest colors, from the darkest black to the purest of white, with hints of yellow from random dogs being walked, shades of brown from muddy shoes, a bit of blue from a drunken soldier who discarded his military jacket and a spot of red where a child lost his lolly when he spotted the train he’d always wanted in one of the windows of the infamous replica train-maker, Augustus Trent.

Slush splattered as another car made its way down the street, windows darkened to block out the one inside, yet, from the emblem on the door, it could be none other than the Fuhrer himself, out to enjoy a night with someone, or perhaps alone. Many stopped when the car did, all eyes searching to see who would emerge, desiring to know if it was a decoy, or if their great leader had actually brought himself from his two years of hiding away to join the general populace in the celebratory events one month before that splendid holiday.

The first one to come out was a young blonde woman, hair pulled back tightly in a clip, gaze firm on those who couldn’t help but approach to get a closer look, a delicate looking hand (though many knew that she was far from her appearance) falling on the butt of a revolver at her side. On her nose rested a set of small, circular spectacles, eyes the color dried blood softening slightly as her other hand reached for the door, opening it to reveal a person covered in shadow. This was the Fuhrer’s right hand man, his General, Riza Hawkeye who seemed to have only a soft spot in her heart for him, and those they considered part of their tight-knit group. Eventually Riza’s hand withdrew from the gun, raised in a salute, back straight and allowed the passenger to step out calmly, showing her respect, as many thought they should do, too. A decoy would not get this much protection, it was quite true. That meant…

It was another moment before any movement was made and the passenger stepped from the confines of the car, standing to a wonderful height with elegance and an assured poise that no one could top. The long coat that was usually reserved for special occasions swooped down, no longer bunched up from sitting, blue in color and positively glowing in the light from the lamp overhead and the snow beneath his feet. The elucidation caused his raven locks and matching boots to glisten, his medals and stars shining in the light, pale face illuminated by the store front and the lights showing the display for those walking around in the dusky time of day. The sky had turned dark early, the time only about six at night, but perfect for those who liked to enjoy the nighttime of the winter celebrations, finding displays and even the snow darkened by dirt and soot a bit more beautiful when masked in the cover of darkness.

The Fuhrer turned his head, nodding for Hawkeye to lower her hand, and everyone else as well, the greater portion of the left side of his face covered by a black patch, the right eye dancing in a bit of repressed excitement, a small smile pulling at his pale, thin lips. His hair cascaded over the patch, doing a deal to cover the seemingly over-sized patch. Roy Mustang, once an infamous hero of that dreadful Eastern Rebellion had grown up from the time the war had ended, ideals driving him to be the prosperous leader he was that day, a good man, many would agree, though a mystery himself. “Lead the way, Hawkeye.”

Without further ado, the door closed and the woman was leading the man towards the next door, which, upon further inspection, was a jewelry store. When the two had disappeared inside, those still curious about what was going on swooped around the window, mainly women who had once hung off his arm, and, as such, he was a bit of a celebrity when public appearances were concerned.

However, to him, it was merely a disgusting way to show affection. So that was what he was up to now? Wasting that pretty face on that pathetic excuse for a woman beside him? What did Hawkeye have that Roy was willing to give himself up for? What was it that he didn’t and apparently was unable to show him back then? Pathetic man, stooping so low for love and affection… what was the use of it all, really, if he lost himself? Love didn’t exist; Mustang was just fooling himself, and the rumors that had erupted only made him look even worse. He wasn’t the god-like figure they made him out to be, but who was he to argue? He’d remind Roy Mustang of his calling and put him back in the place that he belonged in, a simpering pup curled up, rolled in a pool of his own blood…

~*~

~Many didn’t see what she saw in him. He was older than even his boss, but he could be as youthful as Ed. His hair had long since started changing color, from what used to be a handsome black to a precious silver, and he wasn’t all that good at anything but reciting informational tomes that could elude even her. He was great at memorizing just about anything he read and he could recite it easily when it came to mind, but when it came to writing it on paper, the poor man failed miserably. His State Alchemy tests, which she had seen records of, were proof enough. He was intelligent, but that didn’t mean much anymore, not when people were so fixated on handwriting than skills.

But that wasn’t what she wanted to be thinking about, his smarts (though that really was one of the great attractions she had to him) or his abysmal alchemy test scores. No… it was that heavenly feeling that was pooling in the pit of her stomach, that fire that bubbled and made her hot, made her wiggle, not in desperation to get away as she had found herself many times before in, but in need and want, and a great desire to slap him for teasing her so readily.

These were the things fantasies were made of, watching the one dubbed ‘squinty-eyes’ by even his friends lean forward, tongue wrapping around the nose piece that connected the two rounded squares that were her glasses, pulling them off her face while her green eyes watched in a mixture of uncharacteristic hunger and more characteristic of her person, wonder, and spit them on the desk below. Every woman had needs, and it had been some time ago that she remembered his approach, asking for a girl who would be perfect for Havoc. To her, when he didn’t ask if she would be that girl, it was a sort of invitation that he didn’t want her to go with Havoc, that perhaps somewhere deep inside that walking dictionary was a shy man who couldn’t voice his opinions and desires. Of course, she wasn’t any less shy, but the fact still remained it was a sweet gesture itself.

The flesh stretched over his fingers wasn’t soft, sometimes reminding her of the way wool rubbed against her skin, but with those feathery touches, every jolt that went through her was as pleasurable as the last, a tantalizing treatment, only to be interrupted, she feared. They were in her office, she the Fuhrer’s secretary to keep things running smoothly, and she knew he would not be out long before the man returned with Miss Riza and they went in to speak about the upcoming threats of Aerugo.

And then, as the cool air seemed to crash into her suddenly exposed breast, a hot mouth came around to bite and tease further, the Fuhrer and his Chief of Security were long forgotten, choosing that precise moment to whimper and moan, fingers curling as she tried to hold herself back from curling around him, raring to make him ‘feed’ like a newborn would from his mother’s breast.

He groaned above her, the sound muffled by the flesh blocking his mouth, a soft suckling sound soon budding in the practically silent room.

To her own ears, a faint blush on her cheeks as her mind slowed down from the racing that her heart seemed to be keen to continue, realizing that this wasn’t as easy as she had first thought it was, holding herself down and allowing Vato to experiment, it sounded like she whined, wanton with need at such easy and simple gestures. A flick of his tongue and her head rolled to the side, panting into her shoulder with the intent to cover up weakness.

She’d read about these sorts of things all the time, but never once did he ever expect her fantasies to be birthed, that she would be the main character of her story getting the wonderful attention from the man she had to sit and watch from afar while she was concerned with a former boss’s premature death. Never… did she imagine that it would be this heavenly. Not even with her own hand that could find just the right spots did she think it could ever feel this good.

The pen digging into her back as he pressed her more fully against the oak desk was forgotten as her breath hitched, feeling one arm wrapped around the small of her back while the other busied itself with crawling up her skirt, ghosting up the inside of her thighs with that same rough-skinned hand but silky touches that made her almost shy. Another whimper, low heeled shoes slipping off her feet in spite of the attempts to keep them from clattering to the carpet with muffled clacks.

Her face heated up, her stomach giving violent spasms with each sharp intake of breath, eyes rolling back as his fingers hit a spot that added more to that boiling cauldron, the fire that seemed to whip around it and increase in temperature at each movement he made. His lips had moved from the nipple, reaching up to capture her lips as he slipped around the last defense, her thin, lacy panties, digits that seemed to foreign but felt so good burying themselves inside her.

The woman gasped into his mouth, caught between pulling herself from them and encouraging them to burrow deeper, as if it was him himself, and that there would be some prize at the end of it. Muscles she didn’t remember ever possessing clenching around them, hearing his resonating chuckle somewhere over her. “Enjoying it…”~

~*~

“… Schiezka?”

The mousy woman jumped up from her desk piled high with books, wobbling unstably at the sudden jerk from the owner. Before anything further could be said, the latest project she had been spending countless hours on had tumbled over, onto the bespectacled woman who gave a shrill cry, now buried under the hundreds of papers for notes, dozens of books and plenty of other random materials and office supplies that adorned her desk. “Help… me…” she squeaked, hoping for some reprieve from both the task and the sudden weight making her once cozy spot on the floor a very uncomfortable bed.

There was a bit of shuffling, and before she knew it, oddly familiar hands with roughened palms hand taken hold of hers and helped pull her from under the stack of materials that had to be resorted and filed yet. She looked up, pressing the glasses up her tiny nose, wide, forest green eyes staring up into the usually squinted ones of Vato Falman, a small blush at the memory of what now was made clear to be a dream, and what she was still feeling, that aching and longing in the pit of her stomach at what felt so real in her dreams…

“Are you all right?”

Again, Schiezka snapped out of her daze, nodding far too quickly to Falman’s question. “Yes! Of course, it’s nothing, really! Oh! The Fuhrer doesn’t know, does he? He wasn’t happy last time I fell asleep, I promised I wouldn’t do it again!”

Of all the people to come in during one of her erotic dreams, it had to be the subject of that dream. She pulled her hands away, bowing awkwardly in front of him to apologize again for falling asleep, taking in the blue of his trousers, the shiny boots and the books he was clumsily standing on. “Falman, could you move, please? I need to get back to organizing all of these… there’s a lot to be done.”

To be honest, the books were just a distraction, something to quench that still roaring fire that was slowing ebbing away to a warmth, visions of what had been dancing in her mind for sometime flashing before her, reminding her that simple fantasies, things that she could want and have were not so far, if she made her move. When his feet disappeared with a muttered apology, she straightened, giving him a smile. “Thanks for coming to look in on me. Did you need something?”

“Yeah, the Fuhrer told me to clear the place out tonight, something about a bug control?”

She tensed, mouth hanging open. “That was tonight?! I still haven’t gotten anywhere near finishing this and they’re going to ruin it all!” She stooped down, scrambling to pick everything up as quickly as she could to take home. Last time they set her back three weeks worth of work when they came in to check for bugs and taps on the lines; she wasn’t about to lose this. It wasn’t anything important, really, she had just taken a random name and started tracing roots, but it was important to her, and she wasn’t about to surrender her hobby to a bunch of brutes that couldn’t exactly throw her off. Perhaps there was too much Falman on her mind, considering that was the soldier she was currently working on. After the Juliet Douglas thing, with the homunculi and such… well, she wasn’t all that trusting of people, and she had to make sure there weren’t any loopholes from the past to come back and signify corruption in their ranks. There had been a minor discrepancy with the Fuhrer’s but that was quickly demolished when Riza told her to stop risking security over it. It was really that intimidating stare of Riza’s that made her back off, though.

When a book disappeared from beneath her hand, the bookworm glanced up to see Vato beside her, a small grin on his face. “Let me help, it won’t take long, really. Then I could walk you home?”

Schiezka blushed again, going to the other side of the pile and working her way in towards him. It wouldn’t take long to reorganize, really, but truthfully, she never wanted to bother him. “Er… thank you, but I’m going to my mother’s after this, really. I promised I’d come by and try her chicken stroganoff recipe, and really, it sounds so delicious that I can’t pass it up, but…”

“Maybe another night then,” he said quickly, handing her what he had finished collecting, smiling at her as he straightened. “Well, hurry up, Colonel, Lieutenant Colonel Fuery wants to get this done as quickly as possible.” And, before she could get in another word, he had left the office and the brunette woman to herself.

Her eyes fell out of the window, placing the books on the desk in small stacks this time, finding the cold scene as snow began to fall relaxing and enough to cool the heat that had been rising as he was inside the office, so close she could smell his cheap cologne, the lotion he put on his hands this morning as she was coming in. It was enough to douse herself in and truly feel at home. The secretary once again went into a daze, watching the beautiful scene where the snow dazzled prettily in the light from the office window, icicles hanging down in front of it like dangerous spikes, glittering little rainbows in their depths. If only she didn’t have to sit alone and watch the splendors of Central…

Just as that thought crossed the enthusiastic reader, something else crossed in her line of vision…

An intriguing pair of yellow eyes, almost glowing in the light while its form was swathed in shadows, watched the young woman from its seat, just staring, as if waiting for something to happen. There was a feral look about them, but there was also something else there, something that looked a lot like loneliness as a group was heard further up the street, its carols floating down both sides, stifled by the windows, but obviously heard by the interesting creature standing down there.

Schiezka rubbed at her eyes, hoping to get some look at the person’s body (thinking the books had hit her head harder than she originally thought), instead of just their eyes, but by the time her attention returned to that spot and her vision had cleared, the form was gone, and she was, as usual, alone again. Only one thing about it bothered her more than it fascinated her…

… those eyes were very familiar…