FicWad

Not That Delicate

Paninya wakes up first. Her bed's too small for two, but she shared it last night anyway, and now here she is, tangled up with limbs that aren't her own -- much too soft and warm for that -- and trying not to move too much so she doesn't wake Winry.

She still can't believe this really happened. It all seems like too much, like someone else's luck. Nothing this extraordinary has happened to Paninya since Dominic rescued her in the first place. But then there was yesterday, and -- and Winry.

Winry, who was amazing enough in the park, examining her arm and diagnosing her problem with nimble, sure hands. Her fingers were strong and calloused, just faintly rough where they brushed Paninya's skin, and it could almost have been an accident, but it made Paninya's heart race all the same, made her mouth dry and the palm of her left hand damp.

Winry, who followed her back to Dominic's workshop and proved just as good with her tools as any of the big-shot mechanics of Rush Valley, maybe even as good as Dominic, recalibrating the damaged suspension in Paninya's arm so it was good as new. Her eyes were clear and focused, admiring the way Paninya was put together, and maybe that was just professional appreciation, but it made Paninya feel warm and proud all the same.

Winry, who leaned in when the repairs were done and kissed her, right in the middle of Dominic's workshop, calm and confident as if she did this every day and she knew it would be right. And it was, no question about that, her lips warm and soft, her tongue tasting of spices as she pushed Paninya back against the wall to kiss her properly.

Paninya reached up with her left hand, resting it on the gentle swell of Winry's hip, her heart pounding, and she kissed back as best she could -- and then Winry reached down for Paninya's automail hand and lifted it, rested it on her thigh, and smiled.

"It's okay," she promised. "I'm not that delicate."

"Would you --" She wasn't even sure how to ask, Paninya realized. She sounded so awkward, so dumb. Like such a /girl/. "I -- I have a room upstairs. Do you want to stay here tonight?"

"Yes," Winry said warmly, completely certain, reaching down and lacing her fingers with Paninya's automail ones. She had to be the most confident, capable girl Paninya had ever met. "I do."

Paninya hadn't been completely undressed in front of another person since she got enough control over her automail that Dominic didn't have to take care of her anymore. And she'd never been undressed in front of someone who looked at her like Winry did, admiring and wanting as Paninya squirmed awkwardly out of her fatigues.

"It's beautiful," Winry murmured, kneeling on the bed beside her, fingertips tracing the juncture points at Paninya's thighs where the automail began. "You're beautiful."

"Nothing like you," Paninya whispered, and her left hand shook as she reached out to rest it against Winry's side, her skin so dark against Winry's. Winry was what a girl should look like, with her long hair and her cute skirt and her limbs all there, and her breasts high and rounded and firm --

"Really," Winry said, moving Paninya's right hand again, bringing it up to cup her breast. "I want you to touch me. Both hands." She straddled one of Paninya's thighs, rocking against the smooth join of steel and flesh, warm and slippery wet as Paninya moved hesitantly under her, thumbs brushing her nipples. Winry moaned, arching into Paninya's hands, and leaned down to kiss and lick at her throat.

And her hands were everywhere, brushing the scar tissue at Paninya's shoulder, cupping and kneading Paninya's breasts, sliding down Paninya's stomach and between her legs and -- oh, oh god --

Paninya moaned as Winry's fingers parted the dark curls between her legs, slipped lower, found her wet and swollen and hot, wanting -- and Winry's hands were so clever, so sure, fingers dipping inside her just long enough to slick them with her wetness and slide slippery through her folds -- touching her just right, and Winry's hips still rocking against her thigh --

And Winry suddenly wasn't a proper girl anymore, because proper girls didn't moan like that, move like that, shameless and bold -- didn't moan like that, hungry and low -- didn't shudder like that, coming with an arch of her back and a sound like a sob --

But her hand never stopped moving, faster and harder and -- oh -- Paninya gasped, whimpered, writhing under Winry and shaking as the light burst behind her eyes --

And Winry kissed her again, eyes shining in the half-light, and Paninya felt absolutely giddy, weightless even despite her automail. "Thank you," she whispered when Winry leaned back at last. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Winry smiled back, sliding off her lap and sprawling across the bed. "Come here -- we should get some sleep." She traced slow little circles on Paninya's belly, curling in close. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day, after all."

And now it's tomorrow, the morning light coming in the window and starting to warm up Paninya's room -- and Winry's still here, stirring against her side now, burrowing closer. Even half-asleep, Winry doesn't seem to mind the automail, doesn't seem to notice how cool and hard the metal is. Instead she just tangles her legs with Paninya's, and sighs softly against her shoulder.

"Good morning," Paninya murmurs, nuzzling at Winry's hair.

"Mmm," Winry says, blinking up at her. "Good morning." She says it with emphasis, with certainty, like there's never been a better one. She pushes herself up on one elbow and leans in, kisses Paninya firmly.

Paninya kisses back, wrapping both arms around Winry and squeezing tight. "Aah, I...didn't we -- didn't we have things to do this morning?"

"Yes," Winry says, rocking her hips, smiling warmly. "But they can wait."

"Oh." Paninya pushes Winry down onto her back, leans in to kiss her throat, to run a hand down her side. "Good."