Hi everyone - Pandora here! Holly asked for some Springles and I am here to deliver! Hope you all like it! :)
Some evenings, after all the drills and exercises and work, after dinner, the scouts get some time to themselves. Most go out into the grounds or their bunks, some head to other places in the castle like the library and some stay in the mess hall, usually chatting or playing draughts or similar. Of all the 104th, one cadet can always be counted on to be in the mess hall long after dinner is over.
Sasha generally sticks around in the small hope that she might be able to score some more food; usually it doesn't amount to much but no one can say she's not persistent. With other people still in the mess hall with her, she can often be persuaded to join in on a game of some sort, and this is how Connie finds himself playing Old Maid at nearly ten o'clock at night with Sasha. Everyone else who was still lingering in the hall has retired – presumably to bed – and their game of cards is illuminated by just one lantern, set upon the table between them. They've been politely not looking at each other's cards when they've had to tilt their hands towards the light in turn but the game is drawing to a close.
"Did you see the look on Keith's face when Eren nearly got him with his off-hand?" asks Sasha with a grin.
"I thought he was going to pop a haemorrhoid on the spot," laughs Connie, holding out his remaining cards to Sasha to let her pull one out.
She leans forward across the table (Connie tries not to watch the straining of her harness across her chest as she does so) and plucks an eight from the pair of cards. "I'm still amazed he only yelled at him for five minutes," she observes, dropping the card she just took and an eight from her existing hand down on the table. As she sits up in her seat again, she tilts her head to one side, rolling her shoulder. She's been doing it all evening and Connie can't keep from noticing. "When I fell off the climbing wall he gave me at least a twenty minute reprimand."
"Maybe he's getting soft in his old age," suggests Connie to a snort from Sasha.
She leans forward again, offering him her cards – if he picks right he'll win the game right now. After deliberating for a few seconds over the two cards in her hands, Connie takes the one on the left.
"Aww, shame!" giggles Sasha as Connie looks at the joker he just got from her.
With a wiggle of his eyebrow, Connie lowers the two cards he holds under the table, shuffling them while making faces at Sasha across the table.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces to the dark, empty mess hall, "you join us for the thrilling finale of this game between Springer and Braus! It's been a rollercoaster of a match so far and now it comes down to..." He lifts his hands, holding the cards up. "The final draw! Will Braus get the card she needs? Will she pull the joker? Which of them will be... the OLD MAID?!"
He holds out the cards with a toothy smile and Sasha laughs, putting her chin in her hands and elbows on the table as she looks between the cards. Her brown eyes flick back back and forth between his hands and he follows the movement, the soft curve of her eyelashes and the little flush in her cheeks he can just about see by the light of the lantern. Finally, she reaches out and takes one of his cards, flipping it round to look at it.
"Ha!" She throws the two fours down onto the table and beams at Connie. "Looks like you're the old maid!"
Connie chuckles and tosses down the joker he was left with before leaning back on the bench. "Seems so; I shall never find a husband."
"Aww," Sasha mock-pouts, gently poking the tip of his nose with one finger. "I'll make an honest woman of you."
They both snort with laughter, slowly starting to get the cards back together. As Sasha gets up from her seat, Connie sees her wince, her shoulder twitching up very slightly.
"Are you okay?" he asks, eyeing her.
"Yeah, fine," says Sasha, waving one hand. "Just a bit stiff from doing drills today."
She reaches for one shoulder, pressing her fingers into it and grunting.
"Can I help?" Connie offers. "You look like you could use some."
Sasha looks at him, something flashing in her eyes briefly before she says, "Go on then."
She shrugs off her jacket, leaving it on the table as she walks around to Connie's side and sits on the floor at the end of his bench. He turns, swinging one leg over the bench to straddle it as she unbuckles the chest straps on her harness and wriggles the top half of it down to her waist.
"Thanks," she says, tipping her head back to look at him.
"No problem," he replies, giving her a smile.
"You'd think I'd be used to the exercises by now," she observes, straightening up again.
"Everyone has hard days," Connie replies.
He runs his fingers through the ends of Sasha's hair as he gently brushes it over her shoulder and out of the way. He's always liked her hair: it's soft and warm and smells like the wind through the trees. Once, they were all joking around in this very mess hall and he sat back to back with Sasha while Krista arranged her hair on his head so they could see what he'd look like if he didn't crop his hair like he does. They requested different hairstyles imitating their COs and Connie grinned and gurned his way through impressions of them all to raucous laughter, feeling Sasha giggling against his back and his heart answering in tiny skips.
With a quick flick of her fingers, Sasha opens the top few buttons of her shirt and brings Connie's attention firmly back to the present. He clears his throat.
"So is it mostly your neck and shoulders?" he asks.
"Yeah, mostly," replies Sasha.
Connie flexes his fingers before laying his hands on her shoulders and starting to rub them. When he asks if she's okay and she nods, he starts to settle into a rhythm, pressing his fingers into the slopes of her shoulders and up the sides of her neck, trying to help ease some of the tension. When he brings his thumbs down between her shoulder blades, she lets out a contented sigh.
"Thank you," she says dreamily. "This feels great."
"You're welcome," he replies. "Do you want me to carry on?"
"Please."
Connie does so, enjoying the pleased feeling within him at being able to help her. His movements get surer and slower and he keeps his eyes down, watching for any movements in her neck and shoulders that might give him more of a clue about where to focus on next. He can't see anything but Sasha by the light of the lantern – it feels like the whole world around them has faded away, leaving just the two of them in their quiet little bubble of yellow lamplight. All Connie can hear is his own heartbeat – quickened by proximity to her – and their quiet breathing along with–
He blinks, fingers pausing at the back of Sasha's neck. He can't possibly have heard that right, can he?
With the slightest shake of his head, Connie goes back to massaging her shoulders. As he pinches gently at the join between her neck and shoulders, however, he hears it again: a gentle moan, just a little more than a sigh, and he knows for sure it was Sasha. He can feel a blush come into his cheeks as he continues, astounded to be drawing such sounds from her. Well, he assumes it's his doing. He kneads his knuckles down again, working out the knots he can feel under her clothes and skin, and her groans become louder – still quiet, but in the silence of the mess hall and with his focus singularly on it, it sounds deafening to Connie.
To his dismay, he starts to notice a growing problem: there's no point in telling himself he doesn't like her, and the particular cadence of the sounds she's making is having a definite effect on his body. Part of him is grateful for the harness across his pelvis in keeping the situation under some control but that part is soon silenced when he gets more uncomfortable, his trousers too tight. He shifts in his seat slightly, hoping to maybe alleviate some of the pressure on his crotch but only succeeding in making one of the straps press down even more than before. Swallowing a soft groan of his own, he keeps going with the massage and tries to use Sasha's voice as a clue for where to go next.
"I-is this okay?" he asks, fingers kneading down towards her ribs.
"Yeah," she breathes, trembling over the syllable, and Connie's situation down south worsens.
I can't believe I popped a boner – this is so bad!
If possible she seems to be getting louder, her moans filling the empty space around them, and Connie starts to wonder if he's going to pass out from all the blood leaving the rest of his body in favour of rushing to his dick. It's torturous and yet he can't get enough – he wants to hear more of Sasha's pleasure, wants to keep making her make those sounds, even if his own bodily reactions get steadily worse. Eventually, however, he can't keep massaging her; he's worked out every little knot he could find. He lowers his hands.
"Uh, Sash?" he asks, knowing his voice is wobbly.
She rolls her neck slowly, a smile on her face, and turns to look at him.
An involuntary squeak leaves him – he can't help it when her shoulder brushes the front of his trousers like that and her smiling face turns into a look of surprise. His cheeks heat up and he can see pink flooding her face by the dull light of the lantern. For a long, still moment neither of them says anything, gaping at each other, but then Connie clears his throat.
"Sorry," he says. "I... Sorry, I'll just..."
He goes to push himself off the bench so he can get up and run for his bunk (probably to hide under the shitty blanket and not come out until he's forced to) but before he can get anywhere a hand grabs the front of his chest harness and he finds himself pulled down onto the floor with a yelp. A second later he's even more shocked when Sasha kisses him, her lips soft and insistent against his own and their warm faces growing warmer together. It takes him some time to catch up to what's going on but when he does he starts to kiss her back, cupping the back of her neck and lowering his head a little as he moves his lips more consciously.
They part on a shared sigh, looking at each other with wide eyes. Sasha's face is still pink but her eyes seem darker than usual – Connie's never seen this look on her face before but he definitely doesn't hate it. He brushes her fringe from her eyes, still catching his breath.
"Uh..." He feels dumbstruck, completely lost for words. "S-sorry."
"Why?"
"For er..." Connie glances downward to where his trousers are still tented, and Sasha giggles.
"You don't need to apologise!" she says. "Do I look upset at all?"
"Well no but–"
She silences him with another kiss, her lips open and one hand on the side of his face, before pulling back and grinning at him. "Relax – I'm..." She seems to search for the right words. "Not going anywhere."
Connie smiles back, mostly in relief, and kisses her again. They've kissed before today, but it was accidental once and experimental the other time: now it feels more real and certain. Connie's heart hammers hard in his chest but he opens his mouth again, running his tongue tentatively across her bottom lip. She copies him, her own tongue swiping along the underside of his as her arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer. In the dim light, they lose themselves together, swept away in the feeling of one another's lips and hands. Connie can feel Sasha's breasts pressing against him and the sensation isn't helping the tightness of his trousers, especially when her hands move to his chest and he feels her unbuckling his harness. When she has it open he pulls back, going up on his knees and shrugging off his jacket before letting his harness down so it hangs loosely about his waist. He looks down at her, the sight of her face making his breath hitch.
"You're so pretty," he says – even he's amazed at the reverence in his voice.
Sasha grins, cheeks going pink again. "Thanks – that's not something I hear much."
"You should," he says plainly. "I think you're beautiful."
He doesn't necessarily mean to say it but the words leave his mouth before he realises and flushes anew. With another soft laugh, Sasha sits up and kisses him again.
"Thank you," she says again, her fingers starting to trail down his front to lift up his shirt, running over his stomach.
He leans down again as she carries on pulling his shirt up, kissing her behind the ear and letting his lips trail down her neck to elicit a soft sigh from her. The fingers on his chest falter for a brief moment before she presses on determinedly, pulling the shirt off completely and letting it fall to the floor. He stops at the juncture between her neck and shoulder to gently bite and suck at the skin, tugging her open collar wider – Sasha makes a gentle whining noise and he feels her voice vibrating in her throat. The fingers he's had hooked into her shirt collar turn their attention southward; he makes as quick work as he can of her shirt before divesting her of it while his lips return to hers. Underneath him, she shifts, and he tangles his fingers in her hair, kissing her fervently. When he pulls back he feels his face grow hot yet again: she's taken off her bra and the sight of her bare breasts and peach-coloured nipples in the low light sends a jolt through him. He hesitates, suddenly unsure again. Sensing his embarrassment, Sasha laughs again, taking the hand that's fallen limply by his side and guiding it to her breast. He cups it in his hand, amazed at how soft it is.
"Having fun?" she asks.
Connie squeezes her breast slightly. "It's so squishy."
Sasha laughs out loud, the sound effervescent in the air around them. "They tend to be."
She puts his free hand on her other breast, still grinning widely, and he gently massages them, feeling the weight of them in his hands. When he runs his thumbs over her nipples, just barely grazing them, she lets out another quiet moan. Emboldened, he does it again, a little harder, to draw more sweet sounds from her. He's vaguely aware of Sasha running the flats of her hands over his torso but with his hands full he's rather distracted... until her hand moves down and strokes over the front of his trousers. He gasps, reflexively squeezing her breasts, and she winces.
"Not so hard?" she suggests.
"Yeah, sorry," he says quickly, loosening his grip and stroking her hardened nipples again. He leans down, kissing first one breast and then the other, wanting to soothe any hurt he might have caused. Her body shivers under his ministrations and he continues, kissing down to one of her nipples before flicking his tongue over it – her answering groan and squirming assures him.
"Ah, Con... Connie," she whimpers, back arching into his touch. The hitch of her breath and smell of her skin are intoxicating and he continues, switching his attention to her other nipple.
Her hands move down again, opening his trousers before one slips inside his underwear, and he gasps, mouth slackening against her body. He looks up at her, seeing a smile spread across her face as she squeezes his erection.
"Sash," he pants, when he starts to stroke her hand up and down. The feeling of her warm fingers dragging over his cock is indescribably good; he never imagined he'd be lucky enough to be doing this with Sasha and every moment feels like a dream. He returns to kissing her lips, slowly working up the presence of mind to get her trousers open and slide his hand in. When he does she gasps, pulling back as he starts to feel around. If he's being totally honest with himself, he has no real idea what he's doing, but Sasha seems not to mind.
"Connie..."
"Show me," he urges against her lips. "Show me how."
She shudders, grinding her hips against his hand, biting her lip on another groan. "Up... up a bit," she sighs softly, eyes fluttering closed as he does so. "Yeah, there."
Connie strokes a curious thumb over her flesh, getting more moans from her. His fingers move down, slipping inside her while his thumb stays where it is – she's amazingly wet and grinds harder against his hand as he continues moving it. She screws her eyes shut, mouth open, pressing her forehead against his and squeezing his dick hard. For several long minutes all that can be heard in the dark mess hall is the combined sound of them sighing and moving together in pleasure until she eventually pulls her hand from his trousers and he follows suit.
"Connie," she whispers, pulling him in for more desperate kisses. "Connie, can... I want you."
"But I'm..." The penny drops. "Oh. I... Are you sure?"
Sasha nods. "Please?"
"I... uh..." Connie can feel himself going red again. "I've... never done... done it before."
"Neither have I," she admits. "We both know how though, right?"
Connie nods, swallowing; he can recall all kinds of things he's heard from the other guys in his bunks (mostly Reiner) but he's never been entirely sure what to make of it. All of that seemed rather distant and unlikely but now, with Sasha's wide eyes gazing at him in the yellow light and both of them half-naked and warm against one another, the possibility is suddenly very real. Part of him is almost scared to say yes, but another part of him (a part that includes his dick) makes him nod.
Sasha grins at him once more, kissing him quickly before moving back to wriggle out of her trousers and underwear, kicking off her boots as she goes. As he pulls off his own remaining clothes, Connie can't help but gaze at her body. She has the usual bruises and marks from the ODM gear and soft skin belying strong muscles, but he notices smaller things: little freckles on her nose, a graze on her forearm from training a few days ago, a mole on her hip. In that moment, he doesn't think he's ever been so awestruck by her. Any thoughts he has are cut short, however, when she lies back, opening her legs and gesturing to him. He hastens to obey, settling between her legs and kissing her once more, feeling wet warmth against his balls (and that's enough to get him dangerously close to blowing his load already).
"Here," she says, reaching down and curling her hand around his cock again.
He lets her guide him, easing his hips forward slowly until they're flush against one another and he's fully seated inside her. She's hot and wet – Connie has to bite his lip to keep from coming right away, especially when Sasha shifts a little underneath him and muffles another quiet moan into her hand.
"Please don't move!" he says, voice a little high. Sasha stills, gazing up at him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Sorry."
"It's okay," says Sasha with a smile. "You alright?"
Connie nods. "Yeah, I..." He moves his hips a little, drawing back and then pushing forward again; she lets out a sound almost like a squeal and he freezes. "Is that okay?"
"More than okay," she nods, gripping his shoulders in her hands. "Keep going."
Slowly, Connie starts to thrust his hips back and forth, both of them stifling more noises with further kisses. Being inside Sasha is unlike anything he's never felt before: it's intense and makes him feel like he's melting. As he keeps moving, his confidence builds, especially when Sasha arches her back and looks up at him from under her lashes, reaching one hand down between them to touch herself.
"Connie," she murmurs, voice quivering along with her body. He can feel her beginning to flutter around his dick. "Ah! I'm–"
The rest of her sentence disappears in another cry as she comes, shaking, fingers working between her legs. Connie feels overwhelmed but keeps moving as much as he can – more on instinct than anything else.
"Sh-shit, Sash!" he chokes – he wants to keep going but it's too much and he has to pull out of her, barely touching his cock before he comes too, white spattering her stomach and chest.
They ride out their orgasms together, trading slower kisses as they start to come down from their shared high. Afterwards, Connie flops on the wooden floor beside Sasha, both of them panting to catch their breaths. He feels like he just ran a marathon (albeit a very naked one) but when he looks at Sasha and sees her smiling contentedly at him, he knows it was worth it. Still...
"Sorry," he says quietly.
"What for?" she asks, tilting her head to one side.
"It didn't last very long," he replies. "And I made a mess."
She shrugs, hair splaying on the floor as she does so. "It's fine," she says. "I had fun. Plus this is less of a mess than the alternative could have been."
Connie nods – he can't argue with that logic. They clean up as best as they can (sacrificing Connie's socks in the process) and redress, heading to the bunks together. At the door to the boys' bunks, Sasha turns to him, holding up the lantern.
"Thanks for helping me with my shoulder," she says. "It feels a lot better."
"Thanks for..." He flushes slightly again despite himself. "Well, for being you."
She beams at him, hugging him with her free arm and kissing him. "Goodnight Connie."
"'Night," he replies, a wide, pleased grin on his face as she leaves, walking around the corner in her halo of lamplight to go to the girls' bunks.
Connie goes into the boys' bunks, finding most of the guys still up and chatting.
"Hey Connie," Jean greets him as he closes the door behind himself. "You're back late."
"Yeah, I was..." He pauses – something in him wants to keep what he and Sasha did as something just between the two of them. "Just hanging out in the mess hall."
"With Sasha by any chance?" asks Reiner with a smirk.
"Yeah, we were playing cards," says Connie, going over to his bunk and slipping off his jacket before starting on his harness.
A long moment of silence falls over the room before Reiner asks, "Was it strip poker?"
"Huh?" Connie blinks and looks round, heart racing. "What do you mean?"
"Your shirt's on inside-out," points out Armin.
Connie looks down, face and ears suddenly blazing with embarrassment, before diving under his blanket to a chorus of laughs and wolf-whistles from the others. Despite his mortification, he still feels a rush of affection when he thinks of Sasha and what happened, and when he falls asleep (boots and harness still on), it's with a smile on his lips.