I'm continuing this story to show some of the development of Roy and Olivier's relationship, as I mentioned I might do. I have to say, this chapter didn't turn out anything like what I'd been expecting. I'm not very sure of the result, so I'd really appreciate any feedback you can give me.

I have some chapters for this planned, namely the time immediately after the Promised Day and its many consequences. We'll see after that.

Roy was certain that Olivier's bed must be sinful. Large, covered in the best sheets money could provide, the options limited only by Olivier's exacting preferences.

Now Roy stood naked before this bed he'd only visualized so far, this bed he was visualizing even now, as he waited before it while he heard the shower running in the background.

"Undress while I shower," had been Olivier's order.

Now that Roy's clothes were safely out of the way on what he believed to be an armchair, he wasn't sure what to do next. Usually, he would settle on the bed and arrange himself into the most suggestive of positions that would fit the circumstances.

Now, Roy could at most risk to lie down and hope for the best. A best which would be a pretty miserable attempt with his hands still bandaged and off limits. And that was without counting the ugly new addition to Roy's body since the last time Olivier had seen him naked.

The bathroom door opened behind him, and on the carpet echoed Olivier's footsteps as she walked into the bedroom.

Olivier expected to find Roy spread out on her bed, as comfortable and enticingly as he did whenever they met at one of their bases.

Instead, Roy was standing in the middle of her bedroom, his shins touching the bottom of the bed. His back was tense, tenser than Olivier had ever seen. His feet were set shoulder-length apart, his hands taut with that same tension but not fisted. The bandages, no doubt.

Belatedly, Olivier wondered how disconcerting it must be for Roy to be in a new environment while still blind, and not for the first time regretted her choice of not bringing Roy to her room the few times they had been at Central together in the past.

Foolish pride.

As she scanned his naked form, Olivier realized that perhaps blindness wasn't the only reason Roy was so tense. Olivier knew of the battle against Lust, Falman had told her as part of his report on the homunculi. Hell, the reason Roy was still blind was because he was waiting for Havoc to be healed from the wounds of that battle first.

"I should have done this years ago," Olivier said. There was barely no non-verbal language available to her now, no meaningful looks and quirks of the lips to send Roy messages.

Only words.

It was disconcerting. New. Daunting in a way not even the battle had been.

Roy didn't turn around.

"Done what, Major General Armstrong?" he asked, his voice calm.

It irritated Olivier, the title. They often used them while in the bedroom, for various reasons and purposes. Surnames, sometimes. First names were the rarest form of address between them. Yet, right now, Olivier didn't want to hear her rank or her family name come out of Roy's mouth.

She stepped closer to him, covered the distance that separated them, and raised her left hand. Her fingertips brushed over the raised skin of the burn scar that covered much of Roy's left side, and she felt him jump under her fingers.

He was nervous, Olivier confirmed. Nervous and uncertain because of a scar that proved he'd survived what should have been impossible odds.

Countless conversations came to mind. About Roy's looks, about the picture he made now or then on Olivier's bed. About how Olivier wouldn't keep him around if he wasn't so pretty.

Foolish pride, once more.

"It's Olivier, Roy," she said, putting emphasis on his name. She ran her fingers down the scar, over damaged abs and burnt skin on his hip.

"My apologies, Olivier," Roy said. He was aiming for his usual flippant tone, she knew, but he fell short.

"Turn around," Olivier told him, and miraculously managed to keep the authority in her voice to a minimum. Today wasn't a day to order Roy around.

Olivier'd had many thoughts on how she'd introduce Roy to her bedroom, especially over the past few months, but she pushed them to the side. This wasn't the time for any of those ideas. Later.

Roy turned, his skin sliding against the hand that Olivier hadn't removed, and those unseeing eyes were as unnerving now as they had been the first time Olivier saw them in the hospital room earlier today. Roy's eyes were meant to be razor-sharp, intense and taking in everything around him.

This was wrong, even more wrong than the sling that still immobilized Olivier's right arm.

No, definitely today wasn't the day for any of Olivier's ideas.

Olivier slid her hand up Roy's chest and pushed. Obligingly, Roy fell back to sit on the bed. He tilted his head up, but his eyes missed Olivier's face by a long shot.

"Scoot back," Olivier said, and watched as Roy awkwardly did as told without using his hands.

Once Roy was far enough into the mattress, Olivier climbed onto the bed and crawled over to him. Under different circumstances she would have shoved Roy on his back, straddled his face, and ordered him to put that mouth of his to good use. But without his clever fingers and the eyes that told Olivier anything she needed to know, she settled for something simpler. Something that, perhaps because of said simplicity, might serve her better to let Roy know her thoughts.

Olivier straddled Roy's thighs and took hold of his half-erect cock. She didn't miss the quick flash of surprise on Roy's face.

Leaning forward, she waited to be mere inches from Roy's face before she spoke.

"Now don't come on me too quickly," she said, a tad teasingly, and ran her thumb over the head of Roy's cock.

He inhaled, and Olivier leaned further forward to catch his lips with hers. This was the first time, in all of their years of sex, that they kissed, and Roy's brief pause told Olivier that he knew what this meant just as well as she did. They were past casual sex, they were past being rivals who liked to fuck. They were past not having an actual relationship.

Olivier would fuck Roy in the middle of Central Command's entrance hall if that was what it took to keep the vultures away from him.

She twisted her wrist, Roy moaned into her mouth.

Now satisfied with Roy's hardness, she let go of him.

"We only have a working hand between the two of us," she began, running her fingers down Roy's thigh, "so I'm going to finger myself now, and you will listen."

"It'll be my pleasure," Roy said, his voice hoarse.

Olivier snorted.

Smirking to herself, she moved her free hand to settle it between her legs. She was wet, wetter than she would have expected. The adrenaline, the exhilaration of both of them being alive was still affecting her body. Olivier flicked her thumb over her clit, a poor replacement of what she really wanted there.

"As soon as you're recovered," she said, for once not caring if her voice came out a little breathless, "I'm going to sit on your face, and I'll ride that mouth of yours until you have cramps in your tongue."

Roy grinned, his eyes roving sightlessly over her body.

"I'll be happy to comply. Do you have any fingers in?"

"Not yet," Olivier said, running the pads of her fingers teasingly over her dripping labia. She shuddered, a reaction she knew Roy could feel against his skin.

"Can you take two?" he asked. Fingers touched Olivier's lower back briefly, before he obviously remembered the state of his hands and withdrew them.

"Easily," Olivier said, realizing she might even be able to take him with no issue. She plunged two fingers into herself and let out a moan she would usually bite back.

Roy exhaled loudly.

"You should do that more often," he said.

"What? Masturbate?"

"Moan," Roy said, and bucked his hips up. Precome stained Olivier's thigh. "Ride me?"

Olivier rolled her eyes, even if he couldn't see the gesture.

"If you ask so nicely… Lie back."

Roy did, and he spread his hands to his sides as though to keep them still.

Olivier pulled her fingers out, took hold of Roy's cock and positioned herself to sink around him in a quick, hard thrust down.

Roy groaned. So did Olivier.