Oops. My hand slipped. Don't look at me.
This is rated M for sexual content, but you probably already knew that, didn't you? Happy Armin Shipping Week!
"Did anyone see you come in?"
Her smile is warm and gentle.
He smiles wider. "No."
And her clothes are next to hit the floor.
Her skin is soft and captivating under his fingertips. Slender and calloused, pianist fingers trace over every scar from the past, every ridge her 3DMG left on her waist, her torso, her shoulders, her thighs, her backside. A reminder of what once was, and how much things can change over the course of 24 hours. 2 days. 3 years.
Time does indeed fly, doesn't it?
She's beautiful, truly beautiful, imperfections and all. She doesn't see what he sees. Even with her title, even with all the wealth, she thinks so low of herself. Her hair is liquid gold, flowing oh so perfectly as he lays her back against the pillows. She doesn't wear a scrap of clothing on her body, with the exception of the white lace and silk, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. This isn't the first time he's seen her this way and it certainly will not be the last. He treasures every moment he has with her. Every smile, every blush, every giggle, every kiss. Every gasp. Every moan. Forever etched in his memory.
"Armin…" Historia whispers, palming his face with a gentle hand, her tone dripping in tenderness and awe. Want. He sees it in the rosy tint of her cheeks under the moonlight's glow, in the sudden darkness of her blue eyes, reflected in his own.
"I missed you." The young commander leans into her touch and closes his eyes for a moment, fighting back a pleased sound when her fingers inch back into his hair. It's been a month. A solid thirty days. He's counted.
She pulls her bottom lip through her teeth, yet she still smiles, now observing him closely. "You cut your hair."
Armin chuckles, a low sound rumbling his chest. "Do you like it?"
"I do."
"I do, too." He leans down to kiss her and it's soft, lingering, and meaningful, until she slips her arms around his neck and arches up into him; legs spreading from underneath him so he could lay comfortably between them. With their height difference more profound (her toes barely brushing against his knees), he's careful not to squish her and does not press his entire weight against her.
The only clothing that separates them now is her lingerie and his pants, but they won't last long. He knows that and she knows that. Before he can slip a hand under the thin top, however, she thrusts her hips up into his and flips him over, his back making contact with the cool sheets.
She giggles at the surprised on his face and leans down to unite their lips once more. He's prepared this time, hands smoothing down her spine to reach her hips, and groans when she takes his bottom lip through her teeth slowly.
His hands slip down further south to grab her ass and squeeze in appreciation. Historia purrs, arching into his touch, and with the same slowness she begins grinding her pelvis into his to create the sweet friction he's been longing for ever since their eyes met in the grand dining room, full of people. Armin whimpers, he can't help it. She knows how to make him unravel and always takes her time in doing so. He's hard, his desire throbbing in his pants, begging to be freed. Begging for release.
But they have all night to...catch up.
Her hair becomes a long curtain and she uses her forefingers to take one side and flip it over to the other and tilts her head in the same direction. He smiles, then groans beneath her. God, if magic exists he refuses to believe that it did not originate from her hips. Because it did. And no one can convince him otherwise.
She stops kissing his lips to move down to his throat, and his eyes roll back a little, his grip tightening on her bum. Lips, teeth, tongue, and she marks him as hers. Just like that.
Her fingers curl around his bolo, a sultry, "Hello, Commander," is whispered against his collarbone. He feels her smiling against his skin, and his own lips curved upwards into a lopsided grin of his own, shifting them up into a sitting position, she straddling his lap.
"Your Majesty," he says back huskily, kissing on her neck.
She sighs and bites her lip, tilting her head back, hands cupping the back of his neck. Oh yes. Much better. "Do you know why I summoned you here tonight?"
"Yes, my queen."
"Good...very good…- ah." Her voice trembles as he returns the favor, leaving a love bite right where her neck and shoulder met. "Is it a bittersweet feeling for you to exchange this…" And, by the good grace of Maria, her perky breasts finally come out from hiding, pink nipples hardened from the draft (or perhaps, arousal?) "for the ensured safety of humanity?"
"Yes." He brushes his thumb across her nipple, and she gasps a little as he takes her breast gingerly in his careful hand; kneading and stroking. "But I have something worth fighting for."
She smiles softly. "You're so honorable and charitable. I find those to be good qualities in a man…" And her hand slips down to his bulge and he just - "among many others."
Historia giggles. The minx.
He almost loses it when her hand sneaks down his pants and she takes him in her grasp.
"F - ooh…" Armin whimpers.
"Lay down," Historia instructs.
He obliges, and his pants and underwear are next to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
"It's not polite to keep a queen waiting…" she scolds, but it doesn't meet her eyes or her tone. In fact, he continues to play along, despite his heavy breathing and longing thrusts into her hand.
"My apologies...I-I didn't mean to keep you waiting…" He manages out, eyes closing in pleasure.
"Hmm...don't apologize. Even if you look handsome while you do it."
His laugh is shaky.
She notices and breaks the facade. "Sweetie, are you okay?" Her stroking comes to a complete stop.
"Yes, I'm fine," he reassures her, smiling as he coaxes her on her back this time, laying down beside her. "I just...well…" Warm digits slipped down to her wet panties, stroking her through the fabric. "I want it to be fair -" cue Historia's gasp and moan - "you know?"
"Yes...oh my G -" and then under the panties - "Armin…" - until his middle finger finds her clit. "A-Armin!"
"Hmm?" he hums innocently as he works her a little faster. She can't reply. Coherently, at least. She begins biting her lip again, but she can't contain her moans and whimpers. He slowly dips his finger all the way into her heat and shushes her before she can shout.
"I want to make love to you," he whispers against her lips, fingers still moving inside her. She's drenched. Soaked. Ready. "May I?"
Historia nods and kisses him once more. "Please."
He remembers the way she felt, wrapped around him like a glove. Remembers the loss, the hurt, the pain, and the heartbreak they had to go through to get where they are. Their love is a private, secretive love, that no one knows of and surely no one suspects. This is why he ruts into her sensually, caressing every inch of her body that he can reach. This is why he groans out he loves her and nearly crumbles altogether when she proclaims her love for him in soft pants and whimpers. This is why he cradles her face and gazes down at her as their forbidden dance turns desperate and raunchy, still maintaining that burning passion, causing her bed to shake and rattle with each thrust of their hips smacking against each other. He's going to make this last. He's going to make up for lost time, he -
He's falling. Reaches the edge and tips over, and by the way her walls tighten around him and by the way she writhes and trembles and bites into his shoulder to muffle her screams, he knows she's right with him and he doesn't feel as guilty for getting his long-awaited release.
They have all the time in the world, and yet...their world could be gone tomorrow. This might even be their last moment of intimacy together. Every minute, every second together, is a blessing he shall not take for granted. He pulls himself out of her and rolls over on his side, only to pull her close again. Peppers soft kisses against her cheeks, her dimples as she smiles, whispers all the sweet nothings that's exchanged between them and them alone before their exhaustion finally lulls them to sleep for the night. Who knows how long it would be before the next time they see each other?
That thought alone makes Armin squeeze Historia a little tighter.