Unresolved

Author’s Notes:
First, thanks to everyone who\'s reviewed and emailed me about the first part of this!! Second, I must give credit to jojo_da_crow for the giving me the inspiration for the ending of this XD. You\'ll have to have seen ep 37 to get it, though! I got some of the last of Riza\'s quotes from a fansub (except the last line, that one\'s mine), so if they aren\'t perfect translations, sorry. ;p

Again, this fic really has little to do with the anime storyline: just more PWP pulp fiction noir. So anyway, to set the scene for this continuation of ‘Do You Think Of Me,’ I want you to envision the Colonel’s office as having a similar feel to that of Rick’s upper office from Casablanca set in the late afternoon. Classic Black&White film style: dim, hazy and sensual.

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That Tickles!
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A Hawkeye Interlude

The day was waning, the rich heavy light of the fading sunset spreading across the dim, empty office. Remnant dust particles stirred from the day’s movement drifted, catching the diminishing light, enveloping the room with a strange sense of twilight. A twilight between day and night, between summer and autumn, between reality and dream. Alone in his space, she wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t daydreaming.

From the tossed papers strewn about the desk to the musky smell of him emanating from the upholstery, his very presence permeated every corner of the shadowy office. She sighed, taking a stolen moment of indulgence to sit in his luxurious chair.

Hands moving deftly to loosen the fabric of her cobalt jacket from its finely polished brass buttons, she turned the chair to face the window. Leaning back into the cushioning of the seat, her eyes slid closed as she reveled in the dusky sunlight bathing the fair skin of her face and neck. She sat silently like that for some time, thinking of him. Like the sunset shining across her flesh, he was a low burning fire, a fire that needed her protection and kindling. But, oh, how often had she wanted to play with that fire, to find just how far she could bring it… would it be worth possibly getting burned?

As she once again pondered the promise in that prospect, she heard the familiar amused tenor of his voice from the shadows behind her. “Hmm, I thought I forgot something…” he said deeply, his large warm hands sliding over her shoulders. She could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

She sighed, her eyes opening to see the puckish grin evidenced across his face, and replied, “Is that so? What did you forget?”

Taking her face gently in his hands and turning it up to face him, he leaned down over the back of the chair and pressed a fiery kiss to her mouth. In spite of the strange position, his face upside-down against hers, their mouths melded together, sensual and wet and hot.

Breathing heavily, he walked slowly around to stand in front of her. She sat up and leaned forward to run her hands up the fronts of his legs, caressing the firm muscles beneath his dark pants. Staring up into his smoldering black eyes, her hands slid around to the glossy silver fastener of his slacks.

Never breaking the connection between his eyes and her own, she unhooked his indigo pants and let them slide down to hang loosely about his slim, masculine hips. Continuing, she leisurely pulled the crisp white shirt from his pants to run her hands under it. Slowly and heavily, she grazed the taut supple skin of his torso with her short fingernails, eliciting a low appreciative growl from him.

Letting her hands drop back to his pants, she tugged the zipper open. His expression, as her fingertips slid down along the front of his trousers, radiated with fierce anticipation. The need in that gaze stirred her; she had to get him out of those pants. Sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, she slipped them and his trousers partially down off his hips, exposing his arousal to her.

But, as she was not yet ready to relinquish the control she had over him, she refused to cast a look down at her prize. Keeping her intense gaze on his half-lidded one, she leaned forward to run a long wet lick up the underside of his hardness. He groaned, letting his hands move from her shoulders to tangle in her bound blonde tresses. As she moved forward to encircle his smooth weeping tip, his eyes rolled shut. There. That was it. What she had been waiting for…his complete surrender.

Smiling triumphantly to herself, she leaned in and took him fully into her mouth. A low, breathy moan rolled from his slack lips as she sucked and bobbed and caressed and squeezed him to the brink. Looking back up, she found his head lolled back, eyes clinched shut, mouth agape. His face was a sweetly twisted visage somewhere between blissful pain and terrible pleasure.

Smiling cleverly, she pulled away from his undoubtedly agonizing hardness and sat back comfortably into the chair. Charcoal eyes falling open in surprise, he looked with mild indignation down at the reclining woman before him. She returned his gaze with a seemingly indifferent one and ran her right foot up the inside of his leg. His frown deepened.

The frustrated glare suddenly gave her the uncontrollable urge to laugh. But, unfortunately, there wasn’t time for her to process the impulse properly as he leaned forward and yanked her up by the wrists. She gasped, momentarily stunned, but found herself immediately and profoundly turned-on by his unexpected forcefulness. With a small mischievous grin, she took in a heavy ragged breath.

Her reaction was quicker than he’d anticipated. Kicking one of his legs toward the desk, she had him turned and pinned on his back atop the paper-laden table. This time, it was his turn to smile cleverly. His hands moved around her, pulling her down over him. She let him lead her body to settle atop him, and at once, felt him grinding in small provocative thrusts against her. Her body responded in turn, tiny electric waves of arousal spreading out from her pelvis.

As her eyes rolled back in pleasure, his fingers pushed her shirt and bra up and over her chest to reveal her breasts to his questing mouth. She gasped, fisting her hands in his unruly hair. His tongue slid expertly over her rosy nipples, begging her to lose control. And lose control she almost did, as his hands made quick work of her trousers, those notorious fingers finding their way into her simple panties. Whether it was his virtuoso ability to perform his magical science or the proven experience of lady-killer, he was setting her aflame with those fiery fingers.

Moving back to stand, she swiftly divested herself of her boots and slacks. He stared at her, taking in every curve and crevice of her unexpectedly feminine figure as she crawled back up on the desk to straddle his partially undressed body. Her hands made quick work of his shirt, unbuttoning the small pearly buttons to expose the beautiful musculature of his abdomen and chest. She slid her fingers beneath the shoulders of his uniform jacket and shirt, pushing them off of him and onto the floor. Oh god, she really could look at him naked all day. How a man with such occupational hazards as his had such flawless skin was beyond her. He was perfect.

He must have been thinking something equally appreciative about her as he hooked his hands under her knees to drag her flush against him. “My god,” he purred into her neck, “It’s completely criminal, you know, to cover up legs like these….”

“Unnh…no…” she moaned as his fingers slipped like a whisper from its place on the back of her knee to the delicate arch of her foot, “Stop that.” He laughed at her whimper, his deep tenor resonating through her entire body. She wriggled, trying to free herself from that damned tickle-sensation. This distraction was trying her patience; as far as she was concerned, it was time to finish what she had started.

“Don’t want me tickling you?” he asked, hands dropping back onto her hips as she squirmed. “Mmmrrriza…” he groaned through clenched teeth. God, she was moving in the most delicious way, slick warmth sliding back and forth atop his hardness.

Detecting the mixture of amusement and arousal in his dark gaze, she ceased her movement. Oh no… No, she wasn’t about to let the Flame get beyond her control at this point. She took hold of his hands and pushed him back down onto the smooth wooden surface. Then, moving up a bit, she reached between their bodies, took hold of him and began rubbing his swollen head against her own arousal in quick circles.

“Ugnh… THAT tickles…” she moaned and grinned briefly in a smirk that mimicked his famous expression flawlessly. Groaning at her brazenness, he let his head fall back on the table as he reached back to grip her hips even tighter. She knew what was coming and braced for it. Seconds later, he drove himself up into her, his sharp hipbones surging fiercely against the moist flesh of her inner thighs.

He was fast and penetrating and desperate, as though he were afraid he was only dreaming. And her body took him in, hot and fierce and compelling, aware only that he was inside her, a part of her. As their rhythm quickly turned frantic, she felt the cords of her own arousal twist, burning hot and mercilessly in her abdomen. One more right move and she knew that she would burst. And then, his body surged up, sinuously arching into hers, and he groaned, “Riza… ugnh, yess!”

As his seed roiled in hot gushes into her womb, she tossed her head back, moaning, “Ohhhhh…” and curled her legs around his back to rub against… something small and furry?!!

Slowly opening her eyes in confusion, she found herself back in her own bed. She threw back her covers, eyes going wide in annoyance at finding Black Hayate nuzzling her feet. “Ohh…” she sighed disappointedly. Shaking her head as she slid off of the mattress, she said, “...why do I always have to wake up to YOU tickling me, Hayate?”

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Hehe! You know Hawkeye was having an erotic dream in that episode!! Thanks again, jojo for the idea!