I never thought my first finished fanfic would be smutty. This was a commission for my friend Redd (redwalgrl-RG). It's also my first attempt at smut, so constructive criticism is always welcome. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.

Dublith Connection

"We've received word of an unauthorized Ishvarite camp in the southern region of Kishua. Our orders are to relocate the residents to an approved facility, and to find Scar, if he's there." Colonel Roy Mustang shuffles the stack of papers and sets them neatly on his desk. "We leave tomorrow on the 8:15 train. Meet at the Central Train Station at 0800 hours. Dismissed!"

His subordinates each salute and one by one file out. 1st Lt. Hawkeye hangs back for a moment, until Warrant Officer Farman closes the door behind him. The colonel doesn't notice as he pulls another small stack of papers towards himself and begins to write. Hawkeye clears her throat. "Sir."

Mustang looks up. "First lieutenant."

Hawkeye shifts her posture slightly, working up her nerve for something. "Sir," she begins, "I was wondering..."

Mustang's face is questioning and patient. He clearly has no idea what she would want to ask him, but he's ready to answer anything as well as he can. Except, probably, for this. Hawkeye sighs and decides to change the subject.

"I was wondering what the travel accommodations would be. Going to Kishua takes at least twenty-seven hours by train--"

"And we have to change trains once. Make a connection in Dublith." Mustang smiled and held up a paper from the report. "That is why we have hotel reservations. Don't worry, Lieutenant. Everything's taken care of."

"Thank you, sir." Hawkeye smiles, somewhat uneasily, salutes, and goes out the door.

XX

"So, Greed? You wanna check the train station again?"

Greed groans and tilts his glassed down in order to stare at his subordinate. Dorchet, part-dog, glances down instinctively, then slowly looks back at his boss. "We don't have to, Greed. But that armor guy and his buddies are supposed to pass through Dublith any day now, and if we don't check, we'll completely miss them. You want to find him, right?"

"Got me there," Greed sighs. He straightens his glasses and nudges the buxom young girl on his lap to get off. He stands and stretches his arms up, his bones cracking in a way that make the buxom girl shiver. He points to a tattooed woman sitting on the bar counter, wearing a black tank top and a weapons holster. "Martel! Dorchet! Let's go!"

XX

The Dublith Train Station teems with people moving in packs from one set of tracks to the other too quickly to be glanced at, let alone followed. Picking out an individual from the mass isn't worth contemplating, no matter how much the guy stands out. Most likely, I'll mistake him for part of the train.

Greed leans back on the wall in the shadow of the ticket office. What an unbelievable waste of time. Another train comes in. Oh, and now there's military personnel in the vicinity. Fucking lovely. This is too much. If he didn't need that armored kid so badly, he'd be back at the Nest, making out with that girl-- what was her name, Cindy? Nice girl. Nice rack. Instead, he's here hunting prey that's not even h-- Hello.

XX

The train shudders and starts to slow as the porter announces Dublith as the upcoming stop. Hawkeye puts away her copy of the mission report and stands up to take down her bag.

"Be careful, Lieutenant," Mustang cautions her from the seat across.

She reaches up into the overhang. "I know, Sir. Don't--"

The train brakes harder as it grinds to a halt and she pitches forward with a gasp. Mustang catches her immediately, holding her waist in his firm hands. He helps her stand as the train finally stops. "Are you all right?"

Hawkeye shrugs out of his grip and tries to cover her burning cheeks. "I'm fine, Sir." She stands. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he laughs. He pulls her bag down and hands it to her. "Be careful." Hawkeye bites her tongue, nods curtly and takes the bag, humiliated. She hurries to the door and steps off awkwardly, almost stumbling. She couldn't have set that up, unconsciously, right? To make him hold her. I'm not that... She shakes her head. Revolting.

XX

Greed watches her with interest, this flustered, scarlet-faced lady. Military uniform, rank looks like... Hell, who knows. But she is something. Other soldiers step off behind her, a four-eyes, blond guy, old guy, redhead... and the ringleader. The lady soldier salutes her superior and as he walks away, she follows him much more closely that the others do. A comprehending smile spreads across Greed's face. So that's what flustered her... What a p--

"No sign of him."

Greed snaps back and looks at Dorchet, out of breath with his robe falling loose. "I combed that whole side," he reports, making a wide swipe toward some area of the station, "and didn't find a thing."

Martel slides up beside him. "He's not near the entrance or any of the departing trains, Greed. Did you see him?"

Greed curses inwardly. Wasn't even looking. "No, I don't think he was here today." If he was and we missed him, I will kill myself. He puts his hands in his pockets. "But good work, Dorchet. Martel. We can go." They nod and together walk away from the ticket office and towards the exit. What a waste of time. He didn't get that damn kid, and thanks to his loyal subordinates, he lost track of that lady soldier.

Suddenly Martel grabs his arm. She doesn't change pace, but subtly veers away from the exit. "Miliary, Greed," she says. "Should we stay here 'til they leave?"

Oh happy day. He can see her outside on the sidewalk waiting as her superior argues with a taxi driver. What a charmer he is. But this is good.

"Greed?" Dorchet asks. "Should we wait?"

"No, Dorchet," he answers, smiling. "Follow them."

XX

Twilight's set in. Greed waits under a street lamp in a residential neighborhood, flipping open and closing a small makeup compact. It's pale orange-pink with a marbled green shell design along the rim. What odd taste the owner had. He pockets the compact as he hears Dorchet return.

"Okay, Greed." He pants a bit, leaning against the street lamp. "They're at the Wyndom Hotel, twenty-eight blocks that way." He points. "And you should probably know that even though I had to be discreet about it, I still managed to keep up with that car. So I'm just saying, your scheme with these military chowder-heads better go well!"

"I think it should." Greed smiles and pats his friend's shoulder. He pauses and asks, "Do women like flowers more in bouquets, or by themselves?"

Dorchet looks aghast for a fraction of a second, then recovers his composure and shrugs. "I never got a chance to test it, man."

"Too bad," Greed mutters. He looks down the darkening street towards the hotel. "You can go back, Dorchet. I'll come 'round sometime later."

XX

The hotel room is... quaint. Hawkeye sets her thin travel bag on the burgundy bedsheets and stretches her arms. It'll feel good to get out of the uniform, if only for a little while. She draws the maroon curtains and unbuttons the blue jacket.

XX

Greed shrugs and turns away, continuing down the street. That was her, all right. Dim light really does something to her hair. So she's on the third floor, probably two or three doors from the stairway. Good...

He spies a pot of lilies on a lower windowsill. The finishing touch.

XX

Much better. Liza pulls the soft turtleneck over her head and smooths out her loose hair. The only question: leave it down for tonight? She gathers it up and clips it in just as someone knocks at the door. She opens it quickly. "Sir?"

"Good evening, Miss."

She stares at the fragrant pink petals and looks up. The man holding the flowers has dark hair and small silver sunglasses (At this time of night?). He's smiling, trying to look friendly. Liza puts her hands in her pockets and grows confident now that her handgun is secured. "Who are you?"

"Just a passerby, Miss. I saw you earlier, and thought I should return this--" he holds out his right hand, palm up "-- to you."

"That's not mine." Even if Liza wore makeup, she's never buy something in such bad taste.

"It's not?" The man shrugs and pockets the compact. "Never mind, then. But these flowers are certainly for you." He holds up the flowers as though about to drop them and she takes them hesitantly.

"You potted them? How considerate." She placed the lilies on the end table next to the door and looks back, only to realize he's already behind her, in the room. "Excuse me, but that wasn't an invitation."

He's looking around the room, showing concern. "For the most expensive hotel around, you think they could have cheerier decor." He turns around to face her. "I'm Greed, so you know."

"Really." She takes a breath and closes the door behind her. This man is... not normal. Impolite, unconventional, flippant, rummaging in her travel bag... but not threatening. He's straight-forward and stays in control. He just has that air about him. He gets what he wants.

Greed holds up a wad of neon blue lace. "Good taste, my Liz'. I like a lady with a hidden wild side."

Liza jumps forward to seize the underwear from his grasp. He holds on and yanks up, pulling her forward to stand inches away. He stares her down, grinning as though victorious. She swallows, trying to stay calm. "You need to leave."

Greed slips his other hand behind her before she can react. "You really think so?"

He pulls her forward in a rough kiss. She lets go of the underwear and plunges her hand into her pocket. Greed grabs her wrist and draws it gently out, letting the blue cloth hit the floor like a wilted flower petal. He glances into her wide eyes and pauses, considering. He tries again, tracing her lips gently with his own, coaxing, assuring. He takes her hand; their fingers interlace as his other hand moves down her back, his nails tracing lightly around the base of her spine. She shivers and closes her eyes, gradually bringing her hand up to his broad shoulders.

It's warm, inviting. She feels something boiling in her, a kind of electric expectation coupled with unease and dull shock. It's a feeling completely new and exhilarating. What should she do?

What I should do is kick the bastard out! I'm not here for ple--

His hand ventures farther down, below her waistband. She lets out a soft moan and buries her face in his collar to quiet herself. Who is he?

He nips her neck lovingly. Damn, she feels good against his body. He gazes sidelong at her hair, almost gold in the soft lamplight. Beautiful. Their hands separate and he flinches as her nails rake his carbon chest. Perfect. He licks her ear lightly as he undoes the brass clip. Her hair flows down like molten gold as he steers her around. She pulls back and looks at him. Greed smiles affectionately and kisses Liza as he pulls her down onto the bed.

Alarms go off in her mind. Not this. Not like this, not this fast. Of course, where did I expect this to go? But I can't!

Greed takes his hand out of her waistband and slips it under her sweater, touching her tender stomach and rubbing his thumb across her lace-encompassed nipple. The scent of her hair is clean and sweet. She's so beautiful. He takes her sweater in his teeth and lunges forward, lifting it up to her chin. He comes back down and brushes his mouth across her bare collar bone, both hands sliding south to hold her hips. Liza squirms a little, and the sweater comes off entirely. He kisses her pale breasts and neck as his hands start tugging down her slacks.

"Wait," she whispers, shivering. "I can't."

His eyes flicker up to her face. "Why not? Is there something else you like?" He eases his hand down into her pants and teases her with his thumb. She shudders and gasps, and twists her body out of his reach.

"I can't."

She huddles on her side on the bed, sweating, shaken. Greed kneels over her and sighs. Loyalty.

"He doesn't have a claim on you, does he?" Greed whispers in her ear. "He can't even tell what's in your mind. I can." Greed takes her shoulder and pulls her back to face him. He stares into her apprehensive eyes with certainty. "I can give you more than he ever could, Liza." He leans down to trace her face with his hand, and for the first time, she sees the tattoo on the back. "He doesn't deserve you. Trust me."

He holds her cheek and kisses her fiercely. Not persuading, not dominating, just passionate. The fire in him nearly brings her to tears. That fire, that warmth, that desire. She struggles faintly, trying not to give in. He runs his hand down her side, giving her waistband a final tug and then gripping her thigh as he pulls her up.

"Wait!" Liza struggles faintly, then realizes both her hands are free. She slips the gun out of her pocket and shoves him up so he can see her. "Now, Greed. I can't."

The handgun's an inch from his eye. He glances sadly at it, then at her. "If you really feel that way..." He suddenly gives her a twisted grin. "Could you really do it, though? I'd like to see that."

He feels down under her waistband again. She closes her eyes and pulls the trigger.

XX

"That... hurt."

Greed licks the blood around his mouth as his skull regenerates. He rolls over to face her. Liza stares in shock.

He smiles almost sheepishly. "I'm done, Liza. I hope I didn't scare you." He climbs off the bed, stands and cracks his shoulders casually. She slowly makes her way to the floor, absentmindedly tugging up her pants. He puts his hand up to his mouth, then faces her. "You've got guts, Miss Liza. For your sake, I hope that guy learns to appreciate it. If he doesn't..." He takes her hand and places the flattened bullet on her palm. "Think of me." He closes her palm and kisses her fingers.

She looks from him to the bullet, still unable to comprehend. "You're..."

Someone pounds on the door, "First Lieutenant! Lt. Hawkeye!" Liza starts and runs to the door. Greed looks after her, sighing. "I am Greed, Lieutenant."

XX

Lt. Hawkeye opens the door calmly. "Yes, Sir?"

Mustang blinks and looks past her into the room. "I though I heard a shot. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She opens the door wider. Her hair is down, but everything else is in order. "I just opened the window to get some air. The first time I tried, it slammed shut rather violently, though. Maybe that was what you heard." The colonel stares into her eyes, suspicious. She stares coolly back. "Everything is fine, Sir."

Mustang sighs and decides to drop the subject. "The others are eating. There's a rather good bakery nearby. Are you coming?"

"Yes, Sir. I'll be right down." She watches as he walks down the hall, not looking back, not considering her. She lowers her eyes and shuts the door.

I can give you more...

She sighs as she drops onto the bed. It's still warm from their bodies.

Trust me.

She shakes her head. This strange man. Who wants her. Noticed her. Understands her. A warm breeze floats through the window and her eyes close, serene. It's nice.

Liza sighs and shuts the window, locking it before she can change her mind. The bullet is still in her hand. She hesitates, then places it in her pocket with her gun. She can see herself in the window glass, pink in the dim light. She combs her hair, clips it, then walks out the door to the bakery.

XX

Greed sighs and shrugs on the street below, his hands buried in his pockets. So she wasn't ready. It's okay by him. It doesn't have to be now. There's always...

He smiles and takes his right hand out, and gazes down at the shining blue panties. "Until next time, Lieutenant Liza Hawkeye."

Fin

Or should it be?