She was called ‘Lust’ for a reason. She knew this, had known this even as she learned alchemy at her master’s feet. While her skills and talents for transmutation circles and arrays were valuable - and cruel, for she could never practice the art that she had studied so deeply - it was her body that was a true asset.

And now it was her body that she used, as she writhed on the white cotton sheets that adorned the simple bed of a soldier woman‘s small apartment. It was her hair and lips and skin and breasts and thighs that she used, undulating like a serpent as the solider woman ran a skilled tongue along the curve of her calf.

They had wanted information. Someone was sticking their nose where it didn’t belong, and this woman followed behind. And this woman, so it was whispered, was of a particular persuasion that would lend Lust’s talents useful. She was of that persuasion. Lust knew all about women of that persuasion. They fell as quickly and easily as men did - often easier, for how often did beautiful women slip out of the woodwork to seduce them?

Lust had found the woman in a small café, still uniformed and alone. She was easy enough to recognize with her close cropped raven’s wing hair and her heart shaped face. And how many women were there in the military ranks of Amestris, anyway? And it had been easy, so easy, to slide into the seat across from her. To let her hair fall across her face and to smile and lower her eyelids and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. And it had been easy to reach beneath the table and lay one gloved hand on the soldier woman’s thigh.

“Lieutenant Ross,” she’d purred, fingers tracing circles on the thick canvas of the woman’s uniformed leg.

“You can call me Maria,” the lieutenant had said. And Lust had ordered some sinful dessert of chocolate and crème, and had licked it from her spoon, her eyes watching those of the soldier woman’s intently. And the solider - Lieutenant Ross, Maria - had watched her back, but not her eyes. The lieutenant’s eyes were on Lust’s lips and tongue and the delicate arch of sterling spoon that intercepted both.

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” Lust had asked, before tracing her lower lip with her tongue to clear it of chocolate crème. And Maria had flushed, rose petal pink staining her cheeks, and nodded her agreement. It had been too easy. It always was, with women.

Ross had kissed her the moment the door was closed behind them. The solider woman had slid an arm around Lust’s waist and pressed her against the wall and kissed her with chapped lips and a small moan. The body Lust had felt pressed against her, beneath the bulky uniform, was hard and lean, masculine in a way that called to Lust’s hands and mouth. And Ross’ hands had been everywhere, peeling back Lust’s dress, drawing off her opera gloves, tangling in her hair. Ross’ teeth had nipped at her throat, Ross’ nails had glided over her skin, and then Lust grabbed the other woman, reversing their positions, pinning Ross against the wall.

The uniform had come off quickly. The jacket, tossed aside like a rag. Lust had felt for Ross’ breasts beneath her black undershirt, feeling hard nipples against her palm and firm swells of muscle beneath her fingers. The rest of the soldier’s uniform came off soon after, revealing lean legs and flat planes and long expanses of smooth muscle. It hadn’t taken long to get to the bed, then.

And now Lust lay with her legs spread and her head titled back as Ross - Maria - licked her way up Lust’s leg, pausing to tease at the spot just above Lust’s knee. The small apartment was silent save for the small, soft sounds of two women panting. Outside, rain was falling. Lust arched her back as Ross’ tongue traced a path along her thing and then moved on to more delicate areas. Lust’s eyes were open and she titled her head down, and all she could see were the porcelain curves of her own body and the obsidian dark eyes of the woman between her legs.

Ross - Maria - had a skilled tongue. And a diligent one. Lust thrashed and cried out in the throes of climax, and still the soldier woman licked and teased her, prolonging the pleasure and bringing her to the brink time and time again. Ross was more skilled than any male lover Lust had ever taken to bed, her fingers and tongue seeking out each secret spot that burned Lust’s veins. And then, still slick and damp and smelling of heady sex-scent, Ross sat and pulled Lust against her. And this was new, this twining of limbs and locking of bodies and rubbing of slippery skin. Lust’s leg hooked about Ross’ slim hip, Ross’ kneed against the small of Lust’s back, writhing together in something akin to the joining of man and woman. And it wasn’t shame or flirtation that tinged Ross’ cheeks now, but something deeper and more lascivious. And Lust wanted to laugh, but she could only moan and after it was over they fell together onto the bed, a tangle of legs and arms and hair and lips.

“You can stay the night.”

The words were quietly spoken against the curtain of Lust’s hair. The scent of sex clung to both them and the sheets. Lust turned, lazily, her eyes darkened with desire and the aftermath of her final climax.

“Can I?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice. She was supposed to be gathering information, drawing small items of knowledge from the woman in the sated fugue of after-sex. But Ross was sliding off the bed now, stretching, the tendons in her back standing out and begging to be touched and kissed and licked.

“If you want. Er, I have to leave early, though, and my partner….”

“You wouldn’t want him to catch a glimpse of me, I imagine.” Lust rolled onto her back. Ross was moving to the shower, slipping into the stall with the door still open. Lust smelled steam and soap, and the soldier woman’s voice was muffled now. Ross probably didn’t know anything anyway, Lust decided. She was only a lieutenant, the sort to follow orders without question. Really, it would be a waste of time to begin the delicate dance of words that learning anything would require. Lust stood, sweat and all else clinging to her body. She joined Ross in the shower, pulling the woman close against her beneath the hot steam.

It would be a waste of time, she told herself again as she slid her hand between Ross‘ thighs. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d returned with no information. It would be smarter to simply enjoy herself and leave. But Ross was arching against her now, wet-skinned and sleek as an otter and moaning her name and the scent of sex joined the scent of steam.

Lust stayed the night.