Author's Notes: Because I honestly can't seem to help myself and I'm an absolute mess when it comes to FMA and Roy… I talked about doing this a long time ago, but then ended up getting distracted by all my other writing projects. I sat down to start on this for something else, but then it turned into this. Basically there will be seven chapters, two parts to each, all written in one quick sitting, centered on Roy and how he embodies the actual seven deadly sins and the seven heavenly virtues. Because I clearly don't write about Roy Mustang enough as it is. Um, I didn't expect this to get so…nsfw. But then what else should you expect from lust, right? Here it is, the smut I accidentally wrote and the first chapter to this quick endeavor.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's a sad day. I only own my tears that I cry over this asshole.

Sinners and Saints

i. lust

It's two in the morning and just enough whiskey is coursing through his veins for him to forget that this is a terrible idea. How can it be so terrible when it feels so good though? It's getting harder for him every day to remember a time when he didn't want this - when he didn't want her. He's been with her long enough to hear nearly every inflection of her voice, to know recognize exactly what she's thinking by the way she speaks, to understand her discomfort or amusement or anything in between by a simple hum.

But he's never heard her moan like this before and it's driving him up a wall. This is an entirely new sound that shakes him to his core. He presses a lip to her pulse line on her neck as he swipes a thumb over her bra and she pushes her center into his thigh and lets out the most pleasurable sound that he could ever imagine. It's not enough. He wants more. He can't hear this sound only once.

After all, if this is a new sound that he's hearing from her, what other new sounds can he find and elicit?

They shouldn't be doing this. A voice in the back of his mind hazily mumbles concerns. He pushes it aside as he slides downward, pressing his lips over the exposed skin of her chest and flat stomach. They really shouldn't be doing this in his apartment. What's she doing here anyways? They've been so careful for nearly a decade. Tonight was nothing special. She just picked drove him home from the bar. Did she even have anything to drink besides water?

Her hands tremble as she slides her fingers through his hair and he kisses where her hips meet her stomach. A jaunty sort of breath is dragged out of her as she twitches under his light kisses, and he knows that she's ticklish there. He didn't know that before. How did he not know?

Since it's a practical piece of clothing, her skirt is easily undone and he guides it to the floor as he runs his hands down her toned legs. Her fingers dig into his scalp as he moves to kiss each side of her thighs. He's done this before. Not to her, of course. She may be the only one to occupy his heart, but she isn't the first to taste. He won't lie about being pure, not to her. Most of his dates were covers to gather intel, but some of them, well, they satiated him for a time.

None of them were blonde though. He tried not to think about that. Usually failed. At least he never said her name. He never said names though, even if he managed to bring a woman to call his. It was never the right name, never the right voice, and he couldn't figure out why for the longest time.

When he rids her of her underwear, she starts to breathe heavily. He's teased her enough for her to already be worked up into a frenzy. It's hard not to grin as he lazily tastes her for the first time and she jerks under his light touch. Before she can even admonish him for being slow in this, he grips one of her legs and throws it over his shoulder so that he's given complete access to her center. She cries out at the unexpected intrusion of his tongue as she struggles not to buck into him, like she doesn't know what to do with her hips.

He wonders, as he slides his tongue over her, if she has ever let anyone do this to her. Tries not to think about it. Fails. He'll be better. The whimpers that tumble out of her and moans that reverberate in her chest cause him to groan and grip her ass even tighter. Such glorious new sounds. He didn't think she could ever sound like this, but he's delighted and absurdly turned on. Somehow, even though the cries make it sound like she's at the mercy of his tongue, they also sound like a command, each one urging him forward to finish what he started. She grips him tighter, pulling at his hair, refusing to let him go before the job is done.

Honestly he's more than happy to not slack this time.

"Oh, oh, oh-"

It's not enough. He wants more. He wants to hear her say it. Focusing on her swollen clit, he pushes a finger inside of her, then two, and begins to pump dutifully. God, he's so hard that he can barely think about anything but wanting to be inside of her, but she won't let him stop and he doesn't want to. He needs to hear something that he's only been able to fantasize about but never get quite right.

She tenses up and then begins to jerk her hips wildly, not caring about the position they're in. "Oh, god, I need you - I need you inside-" One hand jerks on his hair as another slaps against the wall. "Roy."

It's a mixture between a whimper, moan, and cry, but his name is dragged out of her mouth and a shiver goes down his spine. No one has ever said his name in such a way, least of all her, and it's just enough to make him lose control. Even as she rides through her orgasm he doesn't stop.

He pulls himself up, kissing her skin without abandon, until he captures her lips again. It's nowhere near as gentle as he was before. He also doesn't stop touching her, sliding his wet fingers out of her to rub her clit again. From the little noises she makes, he can tell that she hasn't descended all the way. Greedily, he wants more. She always did say that he wanted too much.

"Again," he growls into her lips, practically demands it of her, "again."

Whether it's to come again or say his name, he isn't exactly sure, but he doesn't let up from touching her until he gets both, her moans resonating in his chest. He brings her to peak twice more like this, pressing his body up against hers into the wall, refusing to give her even a moment of respite. After the fourth time and she shows no signs of being worn out by him, he can't take it any longer.

"Roy," she groans, and it seems that neither can she.

He takes her to the bed. They don't get to sleep until six in the morning.

ii. chastity

He sees her by happenstance.

She doesn't frequent this area of town very often unless she's with the team and even then she does her best to keep an appropriate distance between them. It's never want he wants, but exactly what he needs. For the most part, he can handle having her close to him. The subtle smell of gunpowder and coconut shampoo doesn't overwhelm him; her lips as they move don't tantalize him; the way her eyes will flicker to his doesn't send his heart racing. They've been pressed up against one another before while on a mission and he didn't forget himself then.

Every now and then though, on a seemingly innocuous night, his blood will start to boil if she gets too close to him. His hand will linger on the small of her back for a little too long and she'll take a deep breath. They'll connect eyes and his own dropping down to look at her lips. A whiff of her favorite simple perfume that Catalina got her for her last birthday will send him into downing his drink.

She recognizes the signs and always keeps away. She gives him the proper space. He thought he was doing well. He hadn't had any difficulties lately with her. Things were running smooth. They honestly didn't happen very often, but when they did, his frustration turned high key. And then he jokingly said something that made her blush at work and he got lost in thinking of all the other ways he could make her blush.

Big mistake. He's an idiot.

When he gets like this, he knows exactly what he needs to do. He puts on a nice outfit, heads to his second favorite bar (because he can't go to Madam Christmas' like this - she'll torture him), sits down at the bar, and waits. It's not long after he gets his first drink that a beautiful young lady sidles up next to him, apparently put out because her date stood her up. Can she join him instead? Of course, of course. Roy grins and gives his condolences while appreciating his good fortune in meeting her. She smiles coyly, holding her hand out to daintily take his. He kisses the top of hers unexpectedly. She giggles. Really not that difficult.

The night goes on like that for two hours or so. He buys her a few drinks. She's flirtatious, but not to the point where it's aggravating. He responds back in kind, but never over the top or too dirty. They both seem to know what they're about and where they want this evening to go, but the game is still played. He likes the game. It's fun and exciting and most importantly very distracting.

Just when he's about to take things a step further, when her hand is sliding up and down on his thigh underneath the bar, he catches a glimpse of blonde hair from out of the corner of his eyes. He couldn't say how he knows it's her - plenty of women in Amestris were blonde - and yet even though he only saw it for a second, he knows.

Out of all the bars she could come to, out of all the nights, there is Riza, standing at a high top table.

Unlike the woman sitting next to him and currently close enough to sit in his lap, Riza is not dressed in a revealing outfit. Her bust into close to spilling out of her nice blouse. The skirt is a little shorter than normal, but not enough to reveal a holster if she's wearing one. She wears one when she goes out with the team, if only in case to protect him. Does she wear one when she's not around him? He wishes he could find out.

He tries to return his attention to the dark-haired woman in front of him, but it's difficult. His eyes keep dragging over to Riza whenever the woman isn't looking at him. Without meaning to, he starts to pull his hands away from her. He begins to talk less and less as she continues on without a clue. Every time he glances over at Riza, he keeps worrying that she might see him - or even worse, someone might join her. What's she doing here alone anyways? He's never seen her in this bar before. Why is she here? (Why isn't he with her instead?)

What if she's on a date?

Despite the fact that he's half in to sleeping with the woman sitting next to him, his mind reels at the thought of Riza being on a date. Just when he feels fit to storm up to her or run out of the bar, Catalina pops up from behind her and gives her a hug. Catalina hands Riza a drink and then starts to talk animatedly about something. He deflates slightly. It's not a date. It's a girls' night. Catalina probably suggested this place.

The immense relief is almost palpable, but also incredibly sobering.

He was worked up over the idea of Riza being on a date while he was trying to score a one night stand. What kind of sleezy asshole does that make him?

"Roy," the woman purrs, "it's getting quite late, wouldn't you say? Care to walk a lady home? It's so scary out there alone; a soldier's company would really make me feel safer."

"I…" He blinks and smiles a little too slowly. Luckily she's had enough alcohol to not notice it. "Yes, of course."

They slip out of the bar without Riza or Catalina noticing, something that he is very much grateful for. He didn't think he could handle seeing Riza's reaction if she did. (He knows what Catalina's would be: furious and disgusted. He feels it much himself, if he's being honest.) The walk to her place is silent, uncomfortable on his part and unnoticed on hers, as she slips her arms around his and leans into him. She doesn't live too far, but he doesn't need a lot of time to figure out that his night has gone completely off course in just a matter of seconds.

"Join me for a nightcap?" she asks, already knowing the answer, a coy smile on her face suggesting anything but that.

He smiles at her. Leans down. She closes her eyes in anticipation. He kisses her on the cheek.

"I'm afraid I've got an early day tomorrow. Thank you for the wonderful company tonight and goodnight."

It appears, judging from the shocked look on her face, that she did not know the answer.

He turns and leaves her standing on her doorstep and doesn't bother to look back when he slips out of the gate and starts down the street. His mind is already far away from her, latched onto someone else. A mixture of feelings rush through him, but none of them are terrible, which is strange in itself. He doesn't feel the relief he planned on from wringing out the frustration pent up in him, but he feels…relieved at having not gone inside with that woman. She was everything he wanted until he realized that she wasn't. He feels bad about leaving her like that, but she would've been grateful had she known how he feels right now. She isn't what he needs or even who he needs.

It's not fair of him to substitute one woman for another when all it ever does is make him feel even more hollow afterwards.

When he passes the bar again, he sneaks a glimpse inside through the window. Riza is sitting at the bar now, a tired but amused look on her face, as Catalina chats with a tall handsome man next to them. She stirs her drink idly as she moves to look around the place. By the time her eyes reach the window, he is gone, heading towards his empty apartment, and she only sees the streetlamp glowing dimly outside.

He doesn't return to that bar for a very long time, even when he does find himself frustrated. He can't bring himself to do so. It's perhaps more punishment to go to Madam Christmas' and go home alone afterwards, but he also feels a little less like hating himself. It's a strange feeling, not feeling that vague distaste. It feels even better when Riza peers at him the next day and seems to just know what he's doing. Yes, it's a good thing, he decides, being alone sometimes.