Warnings: Mentions of sex. Kimbley being a perv
Word Count: 1582
Summary: Kimbley likes games. He also likes Riza. One sided Kimbley/Riza. x-posted to my LJ and other assorted places. Love to my beta jazz_trousers, you're awesome!
Written for the springkink, prompt: Feb 5 - Kimbley/Riza, uniform fetish - "I love a woman in uniform."
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist and I make no money writing this. It's simply the product of my overactive imagination combined with my overwhelming urge to write.
Kimbly liked games. He also loved a woman in uniform, especially the formal ones in which they would be wearing- skirts that cut off at the knee so a good show of a long shapely calf muscle could be seen, a nice two inch heel giving it the toned aspect that just looked so damn sexy. And when his two more favored things came together in a beautiful symphony of watching and waiting, then really, it was all for the better on everyone’s part, especially his.
The game he was playing now had been going on for the better part of two weeks, and, as all games went, he was prepared to not only go the distance, but do everything he could in order to win.
His personal favorite was the cat and mouse games. Preferably where he was the cat, and in a way this was exactly like that. Watching her. Making sure his sharp eyes strayed only at the most opportune times in order to get the most view with the least amount of attention from other people noticing, especially that snot-nosed commanding officer of hers. God did he ever like to kiss higher ranking male military ass. If Kimbley hadn't personally seen the Colonel with his own eyes kissing so many women he would have assumed - like many others, he was sure - that the man would have preferred the more masculine gender. Could be that he actually did and no one would be the wiser, the man did like to play his cards close to his chest.
Unlike the prestigious and ever loudly kissing Mustang, he preferred not to kiss and tell. He pressed his back against the fence that rimmed the parade grounds at HQ and tipped the wide brim of his white hat down. To anyone else it would have looked like he was getting the sun out of his eyes in this unnaturally warm spring day, and that was partly the reason. But it wasn’t for purposes of cooling himself down. Oh no, this was for warming him up considerably.
From across the parade grounds he could see the progression of men and women, all dolled up in their finest. A sea of blue against the dull grey stone beneath and the more pale sky above, hear the rhythmic step step step, of all their combined footfalls, and even from where he stood he could feel the vibration of their multiplied steps under his feet. It reminded him of the tremors just before one of his transmutations went off. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and an even better feeling. The explosions that is, not the troops. Hell, the majority of idiots tramping around out there were little more than cannon fodder in his eyes, food for his hungry bomb-making alchemy. But one in particular stood out amongst the crowd.
And damn, but she was beautiful. A rose amongst a pile of sand. A smooth, elegant neck, long fingered hands that were nimble and deft, yet still tapered and delicate somehow, with an unerring accuracy and strength that made him swallow convulsively the first time he had thought what else she might be that accurate with. Those soft hazel eyes were really only soft because of the color. The person behind them was hard as nails and twice as sharp. Just thinking about her got him more than a little warm under his carefully laundered white suit. He he could see her now, soft, pale skin tinted with pink from the light exertion, matching the light pink of her lips that were always set in that tight line just this side of cold. Tiny tendrils of golden hair coming undone from the tight clip she always kept it in, tempting Kimbley to reach out and tuck it behind a delicate ear. All of that just added to the way she was dressed today.
Today, the majority of the people doing their little marching show were all getting promotions. Which meant they were all wearing their finest, and she was no exception. He tipped his head to the side as the marching procession finally stopped in front of the Fuehrer and his assistants, two of them piled high with little boxes, his guess was they were holding their new stars or whatever for them that would signify their promotions. She was in the front row, third from the end and her back was ramrod straight. Kimbley let his eyes wander over the perfectly immaculate uniform, noting how it hugged her curves in all the right places, showing off just a hint of the roundness of breast, the narrowness of waist, and when she saluted with the rest of them when the Fuehrer started his boring speech about the greatness of the Amestrian military and all that bullshit about pride and strength and blah blah blah, the lithe strength was shown in the simple graceful movement.
Instead of the pants she usually wore she was wearing one of those military-issued skirts, the ones that stopped just above the knee. It showed perfectly the curve of calf muscle and dainty feet that were slipped into military issued heels. It made Kimbley imagine behind his eyes what her skin would taste like if he were to lick that little tender bit of skin right at the back of her knee. It made him wonder what a lot of her would taste like. If he closed his eyes he could see it now: her pressed up against a wall with her legs tight around his waist, that cute little skirt of hers rutching up high around her upper thighs, and Kimbley’s hand stroking her little white panties within the shadows of her parted legs.
It was those thoughts that led him to the decision he had only recently made. Today he was going to change the game, and hopefully for the better. It wasn’t as much fun when only one person knew they were playing, and he very much wanted her to join in the fun.
The Fuehrer, finally finishing his long speech, and with all the bravado the leader of an entire country could muster, stepped down from the small podium and started with the grand process of giving out the promotion stars to the loyal soldiers. Their mommies would be proud, he was sure.
He took a careful look around the stands, where many upright citizens watched their future’s best and brightest get tagged with stars to prove their efforts, but nowhere could he see the Colonel, although Armstrong was there. The man was impossible to miss, what with the height, the sun reflecting off his shiny head and the goddamned sparkles. Was the man actually getting teary eyed over this? Kimbley shook his head sadly.
The first row was done now, and Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was standing tall and proud, her chin high and her eyes bright, and if Kimbley turned just the right way he could almost see the corners of her lips lift in a smile. He waited patiently until all three lines of troops had been given their awards, and even smiled when they threw their caps into the air in celebration.
When she had gathered her cap and started walking towards the steps of HQ Kimbley took action sliding up quietly behind her with a lazy smile.
“Thank you sir.” She said with a nod, still walking brusquely towards the steps. Damn. Could he never surprise this woman?
“So I was thinking…” He said softly as they started walking up the stairs towards the main door. “Maybe after something like that, a celebration might be in order.”
“The rest of the group will be going out to the bars if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you’re not?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve paperwork to tend to.” She replied with that same no-nonsense attitude, not even breaking her stride. They were almost at the doors by now, and Kimbley pushed himself ahead and placed his hand on the doorjamb of the entrance barring her way.
“Maybe once you’re done, then?” He asked quietly so that the one or two soldiers passing couldn’t hear. Unobtrusively, he slipped his free hand on to her hip, so as no confusion could be made as to the meaning of the aforementioned ‘celebration’.
Her eyes flicked down to his hand, then back to his eyes before narrowing slightly. “You will remove your hand sir-“
“…Kimbley. You will remove it. Now. Or I assure you, you’ll never be able to clap your hands together again.”
Kimbley retracted his hand as if stung, his mouth hanging slightly slack at the reaction. He was hoping for a bit more than that at the very least. Mind you, she was Mustang’s assistant, and who knows what kind of crap he was filling her mind with-
“Besides,” She said, sliding up against him and cutting off all rational thought with all those beautiful female body parts pressed against him so suddenly. “Any ‘celebrating’ we would do would be done on my terms, not yours.” She murmured into his ear in a sultry whisper.
Before he was able to respond she had already brushed passed him, and Kimbley stood for a good second gape mouthed and shocked before his brain registered the slick smile she passed his way before turning completely away from him.
“Damn,” he said with feeling before straightening his tie. “I do love a woman in uniform.”