….this is quite possibly the filthiest thing I've written. Ho boy.
No need to hold the cap open, I can throw myself into the garbage. *jumps in*
Murmurs of howling wind echoing through the cave's craggy insides jar Armin awake. He yawns beneath the blankets, his waking brain growing confused. They're fairly far from the entrance yet the infection of cold contaminates even the deepest parts of the cave. He wonders if there's a storm outside.
Rising up from the furs, a chilly gust on his naked back and chest brings a shiver in him, reminding Armin that the partial darkness and blankets are shielding both his and Annie's lack of modesty. The ice-burst stones shine like bright blue fireflies through the barrack's dusty windows, giving Armin light to scrabble out of bed and feed a now growing fire before diving back beneath the covers.
Annie remains still beside him, snoozing softly even as movement from Armin getting comfortable shifts the bed. Her curled form reminds him that she is not a graceful sleeper, what with her face almost in a permanent frown, guarding herself even in sleep. To Armin's relief, the rest of her pale body is relaxed and limp as she dreams. A pinprick of curiosity spurs him to hold himself up on his side with an elbow, his other hand rising to carefully lift the blanket above her front.
Looking down, he's interested in how the faint squares of her abdominals become nearly invisible from every inflate and contract when air whistles past her lips. His eyes wander on how ankles from firm legs cut from marble idle next each other, leading up to a juncture where there's a light patch of blond fuzz.
Armin recoils back a little. This feels a smidge wrong to him since they haven't established boundaries yet, isn't completely sure what she will and will not allow him to do. As he sits and worries, restless hands bunch blankets between his legs, positive his stiffness is from a recent flood of rushing blood and not from an embarrassing case of morning wood.
Seeing her bare form reminds him of a few hours ago when nothing but pleasure twitched his fingers and curled his toes. He owes her a debt—truly wants to repay it too and do so in spades. He's just not sure if it's the needy fog of sex driving his hormone-riddled mind or if it's fulfilling his desire to make her feel good that moves him closer to Annie. He hovers thoughtful hands over her before moving them down.
Soft finger padding trace the trenches of her shoulder blades, traveling down to ever so lightly cup and slide down Annie's toned flanks. The firm globes of her rear are the next stage and Armin blushes so fierce, the fire across the room must get fuel to burn hotter from his searing red face. He takes his movements as slow as he can, gliding hands over her waist, then finally curling his palms on her muscled backside.
A light hum is all he gets, a distant acknowledgement of what he's doing might be okay. Gaining confidence, Armin advances, slipping a hand over her side for his fingertips to mimic playing the harp over her thin stomach. He runs over sides and quads perfectly forged from discipline and Armin can barely swallow throughout his study of her, his eyes glued on a physique so fighting-fit and perfect.
"There better be a good reason for you waking me up." Annie admonishes in a sleepy murmur. "That is, aside from you being perverted."
He's caught red-handed but he was always going to be. The young man runs a finger up the divide of her breasts because she hasn't shoved him away yet. "If just wanting to touch you is perverted then that's fine by me."
Annie snorts snidely. "Of course, it is." A pause. "Is that all you're going to do?"
A light smirk yanks at the side of his lip. "It doesn't have to be."
Another pause. "Well?"
If that's not an invitation to continue, he might as well be diagnosed as deaf right now.
He pecks the space behind her ear, a thank you for the go-ahead. He peels back the blanket over her, wanting to see his exploration of every junction and crease Annie's body has to offer. Fingertips slide up from below her navel to her breasts, her hard nipples tingling at his sweeping touch. He takes one soft mound in his palm, the other sliding up her back as a forefinger and thumb bend and play with the pink, sensitive bud.
Annie mewls hungrily, the sound quickly stretched out into a light hiss when he pinches her nipple and right buttock is caught in rough, controlled squeezes. He's stamped against her back, pressed so hard, his rising heat mixes with hers. She shudders when the unmistakable sensation of his hardness pulses against her backside. She twists her head around, her hands reaching for him, only to have her stopped by Armin's sudden grip.
"I'm fully rested now." His hot breath plumes behind her ear. Her heart pounds against her ribcage as both her hands are pulled back, wrists being wrapped by an edge of under-blanket before his muscled side lands on them, keeping her fabric-shackled hands down. "And I believe I owe you something."
His words tightly wring Annie's stomach. The warmth of his fingers and palms moving from strong arms, to solid legs, to perky breasts, and flexing sides draws slick anticipation to bleed out her pores and dribble down her thighs. Annie's face flares hotly when he takes the creamy firmness of her rear more roughly in one hand, the other still squeezing her breast.
He gets curious on what's between her legs, where her glossy lips come together and make a seam. He leads his fingers down, meandering along her belly and lower until he feels the slickness of her folds on his fingertips. Small anxious huffs leave her as he rests there, trails a finger down the damp lip-lined slot hiding her precious parts, then flicks the tiny pebble of her pulsing clit with his thumb. Annie chokes on her squeal and jerks.
"You know what that does already." Annie seethes, aiming angrily desperate eyes at him through unruly strands of platinum yellow.
Armin licks his thumb and applies twirls and rubs to her livewire clit, spilling out sharper squeaks and writhes from Annie.
"And that's exactly why I'm doing this." He sniggered.
He sounds so damn proud and Annie can't restrain desperation from intensifying her moans, amping up into a throat-drying gasp when two fingers spread her and sink into slick, scorching muscle. Annie's lips catch between her teeth as he pumps quick and deep into her, rubbing her swollen button all the while. When his fingers—dug into her so deep, she feels where his fingers meet his hand— curl inside her wet tunnel, his thumb pressing hard on her clit, Annie shrieks. Her body lurches, shaking as if struck by high voltage. She's whimpering and hot and so horrifically aroused that she wants to cry.
"Stop playing around." She grits out hoarsely. She shoves her backside on where his rigid cock waits patiently on the sidelines. "Hurry up and fuck me already."
"Not done yet." The words sing out of him like a pleasant tune. His light smirk grows when Annie looks back at him, deducing from her fiery glare that large beasts must cower and run from such a dangerous sight. He pries his eyes away to kiss and suck on her neck and shoulder.
Her clit throbs and body quakes from electricity clacking down her vertebrae. Her teeth sink into her lip deeper as he pumps in faster, harder, and now there's three fingers stretching her in and out. It's unbearably cramped inside her, the tips of her knees tremble in front of her face, and her body is curled into a such a tight, hip-bucking ball because god she's so close. Her walls around his fingers quiver as he plunges in, thumb pressing hard on her clit, another hand squeezing her breast all in unison and she hiccups and jerks, her high-pitched moan accompanied by trembling walls squeezing around his fingers. A thick wetness runs down the palm of Armin's hand, her hips rutting more and more slowly against the appendage which made her peak as Armin pecks her hickey-infested shoulder.
She collapses on a bed of her own messy hair, breathing heavily. Before Annie even has a chance to recover from the honey-laced sting of orgasm, mapmaker fingers spiral around her pulsing clit again and oils the pads of his digits by circling the soaked, sensitive pinkness within her folds.
He's toying with her and she wants him and she is so pissed.
"Stop being...such-ah! such a fucking cunt and-ngh-get on with it!"
He pinches her abused clit and Annie yips so sharply, she sounds like a dog in pain. "Was that an insult or an invitation?" His voice is a perfect manipulative blend of innocent confusion and teasing.
"You little shit—nhah!" She arches her back into his sweating chest. His thickness rubs beneath the outside of her dripping lips. Two fingers peel back her folds and he grinds his flushed girth forward and back, reducing Annie into a whining, floundering mess as Armin works to have himself glisten with more of her egg white-like shine. He's so close to where she needs it, fantasizes with her hands struggling at her confines that soon he'll point his sweet cock up and impale her until he's trapped from balls to tip.
She's only granted his learning fingers circling over her pulsing bundle of nerves as his cock rubs beneath her.
Her teeth clench so hard it hurts. "Damn it Armin, just fuck me already! Or are you going to wait until I'm blue in the-HA!"
The rod thick and thumping with life beneath enters her swiftly, stretching her lips tight around his length. This position is new and little awkward for the experimenting soldiers, only enabling half of Armin's length to push through with both her legs down and his current leverage, leaving them both displeased.
Armin thinks—having to dodge an impatient slam from the back of Annie's head into his to "get on with it" in the meantime—and finds a resolve. Armin hooks his arm around the back of Annie's knee, hiking her leg up so they're both on their sides and her leg dangles over his hip just so. The rest of his shaft beating hotly in the ring of her opening slips in easy much to the high, satisfied moan Annie frees.
Her body sucks him with wet greed and Armin almost releases right then and there, shakes his head desperately just to avoid so and regain focus. The dedicated soldier holds the whining woman in place with an anchoring hand on her left buttock and with legs and lips split apart, Armin shoves into her, going at a hard, swift pace that returns Annie's body to when fire-zapping sensations skittered all about her sweating skin.
"Mmm...Mnng." Annie whines and wheezes, the side of her face shoved into her pillow.
He pumps with furious ardor into her ribbed tunnel, wholly intent that she drowns furiously in mind-blanking pleasure like he did and Annie nearly sees spots from every sharp ram into her. Her ragged cries sounding like sobs tell him he's getting her there, motivates Armin to weasel a hand past her side pressed on the bed and dive for her sheened cleft. With two rubs on her clit, Annie's shriek rings out so high, Armin's eardrums ache like they've nearly been ruptured.
Annie grows wet and so much tighter around him and Armin loves all of it, holds her closer to feel more of her and burrows into the plain between her neck and shoulder. They've been connected only a few times but Annie quickly gains a preference, loving his rabid onslaught of thrusts, his focus to take her so harshly and leave her so raw.
"Is that all haa-you've got?" She provokes through a gasping, husky voice. A blue marble misty with lust peaks through the strands on her face, her cheeks stained a bright red.
The force from Armin grinding his teeth must have reduced them to nubs by now. "Fuck, Annie."
Armin clutches both her hips in a white-knuckled grip, pounding harder against her battered behind as they hiss and cry out from sensitive skin slapping. Annie's sky-reaching pleasure dawns and her taut back bends to an impossible arch against him. She screams and once wet confines tighten around Armin in a death grip, he's dragged into exploding oblivion with her with the hissing curse.
A thrill always dances along her spine when his warmth flows into her, body shudders before relaxing against him. Their bodies float in a humming blank space, the back of Annie's head resting on Armin's shoulder while he lines the side of her neck with slow moving pecks.
Once his chest feels the hammering of Annie's heart abate, he rolls the exhausted woman onto her back. He moves, now hovering over her and plants kisses all around her lips and face.
Annie says in tired annoyance, "I'm starting to get- "She's stopped by another kiss. "Tired of" another "you thinking that" another "you wear" another "the pants here."
The five-pronged cage of her fingers clamp around Armin's face, halting him from raining more kisses.
"You got to run the show all last night." Armin fights back through smooshed cheeks. "It was my turn."
With a red-tinted cheeks, Annie rolls her eyes. He didn't need to pay her back but she certainly wasn't going to say no if he wanted to take her on another trip to blisstown. Well-built arms shift to shimmy under her back and encircle her but Annie's hands reflexively plant on Armin's chest, intending to push him off.
Annie stops. Armin watches and waits from up above, fishing for her reaction to see if he truly has overstepped her boundaries. It takes a minute to fight back her habit of repelling before small, smooth hands rub the rocky leanness of Armin's chest.
"Fine." She resigns with a sigh.
His smile expands and Armin stuffs his face into the open space between her neck and shoulder, goosebumps rising on her skin when a warm gust from his sigh flows down. He holds her so tightly, his shoulders hunched and body tucked in so tight against her, all of which makes Annie worry again.
"This is a big 180 based off last night." She says, a calm voice laced with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Sweaty wheat hair strands rub under her jaw from his nod. "I am, because you're right—nothing can be changed and there's no point dwelling on it. At least we're together now and we can take advantage of every day." Warm lip cushions press on her collarbones. "For you, that's something I can live with."
Annie isn't quite ready to be so forward yet and diverts her eyes, tucking sweat-dried hair behind her ear. She puts a hand over her nose from a frighteningly strong smell. "It reeks in here. I wouldn't be surprised if they could smell us all the way from the surface."
Armin nuzzles her neck like a comfortable child. "I don't care."
"I do. Now scooch off me. I can almost feel myself getting crusty."
His lean arms trap her and Annie's skin feels the moist part of his lower, inner lip peel down in a pout. "No, I'm warm and comfy here."
"That's too bad because I'm not. Off." She seethes through the closed gate of her teeth. "You're making it too hot and I'm already sweaty enough."
She fidgets beneath him, her forearms tight together like her shackles are still on as she pushes up but Armin keeps hanging on. A complaining whine akin to a small child's vibrates in his throat.
"Just a couple more minutes, Love." He compromises drowsily. "Then we'll go get water for the shower. I promise."
Annie stops moving and the hairs on the back of Armin's neck practically shoot up from his red thermometer-rising body blush.
"What did you just call me?" Annie asks, enlarged grey-blue perplexed.
He takes his sweet time, but Armin soon lifts up from her and clears his throat. Annie wonders if it's from nerves or to fill in the awkward silence.
"I-uh, I called you Love." His first couple words come out weak whereas the next come out stronger and more confident.
Her surprised eyes stay wide. "Wow, you know how to jump through the hoops fast. Isn't there some kind of grace period before saying that?"
Armin smooths his messy hair back. "It's not like I actually said it and everything has been pent up for the last five years. Give a guy a break for letting it slip a little."
"Don't give me a reason not to."
Armin groans, thinking he's run afoul of a bad territory to tread into. However, to his pleasant surprise, Annie is not struggling against him anymore. To her, it's the first pet name he's ever used—the first nickname, play on words, or non-mocking acknowledgement of herself that she's heard. A warm bubbly feeling boils beneath her skin.
"I bet you think you're some distinguished forty-year old noble by saying that." Annie mocks though her blush doesn't match her barbed teasing. "You only had five years to mature, not physically grow older than me."
"Like I said, five years bottles up a lot of things. Don't be surprised if there's more."
It's Annie's turn to groan embarrassingly. She twirls over to lay on her stomach, pushing a pillow over her head to hide her face and Armin can only grin.
He doesn't care that she's shy about her new pet name, doesn't give a good god damn if even his friends won't like it because saying something so simple never felt so freeing and he's so happy saying it. He hasn't been this elated since the glory days of his childhood and mind-blowingly enough, Armin finds this happiness to be a little bit higher than even back then.
Lifting up his upper half, Armin's attention drifts to a large spot on the bed Annie has rolled passed. Heat prickles his face, a little embarrassed that his spontaneity may have ruined her favorite bunk. Looking at the dry puddle of their shared arousal hangs another shadow over Armin, something far worse than his shy embarrassment.
"Annie...with everything going on, we haven't been careful." Armin says, his mouth suddenly becoming dry. "I've never pulled out and it's been sometime since the dungeon. Do you...do you think that- "
"No."
Armin is startled by such a quick, hollow response. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I can't."
Nerves make foul roots in his brain again and Armin swallows thickly from the sensation. He asks carefully, "What do you mean you can't?"
Annie transfers her body from her belly to her side, aiming her back at him. "Female warriors are spayed once they are chosen. The Marleyians can't risk a prized possession falling pregnant. So, they get rid of the problem entirely by removing our reproductive organs."
The enlargement of Armin's eyes shows petrified confusion. "But won't they just grow back once you take the Titan power? All the burns I had from before were healed, even some old scars. Shouldn't that count for lost organs too?"
"Possibly. But based off what the Research Society's doctors told me, females are born with a definite number of eggs. If they're removed from me, I highly doubt I can reproduce those simply because I heal." Flesh grooves form between Annie's brows. "Plus, they've had more than enough test subjects to perfect the procedure. All the female candidates I studied about didn't have children after eating their predecessor. To protect the first surgery, they must have found some method that helps us stay neutered."
Armin stares down at her, mouth agape and cloudy ocean blue horror-stricken.
Controlled, commanded, and neutered. These were the forces hovering over Annie's already damaged psyche for years and he can't imagine what it's like to lose such basic human things, slides over along the furry blankets and wraps concerned arms around her to tell her that. His mother wasn't there to tell him what civilian women did— that childbearing is the greatest gift and curse and how often times they've seen, no matter if one wants to have children or not, that being stripped of the power pulls sanity down that much lower for powerful, primal reasons.
Seeing Annie go out of her way to shield how she's feeling pulls at Armin heartstrings. He kisses the back of her neck and ridge of her shoulder, hoping it will loosen the tension he spots shifting beneath. Absorbing this as he tends to her takes his thoughts back to Historia who must be feeling cursed with a duty to bear children, but it's always been his secret hope that despite their circumstances, she can grow to love the child, know that she has a gift some women don't.
But maybe that's what makes everything all the more painful, he realizes—about how when you love something intentionally or unintentionally and want to protect them, uncontrollable forces make you let them go and let life hurt them anyway. He had to do it, Annie did, and Historia may have to. He shivers at the very thought.
Annie can just about hear the bees of thought buzzing in Armin's head and wants to swat his cheek to knock it off, but she leaves him be. She likes being quiet like this, where her back is protected and warm, her body guarded by such a dependable man, the itch to keep her guard up doesn't need to be scratched.
"Annie," Armin's cautious voice calls her attention. "I can't help but wonder. If...if the Maryelians didn't do that to you or even if the Curse wasn't imposed on both of us, would you…?"
She knows what he's asking.
"No." She responds too quickly for Armin's comfort. A rapier of disappointment sinks deep into the middle of his chest.
The blond woman's small form flips around so she's facing the man whose lips appear unsteady and brows are in sad, upturned arches. Her hand draws thoughtful circles over the solid pillows of his pecs, tingling there like a healing salve on his ghost wound.
"Even if I could, it's not that I wouldn't want them with you, either." Annie claims, keeping her eyes away. "I just...couldn't. Not when the world is this way, not when they could go through what I did or worse now. In another timeline where times aren't so horrid...maybe…" she trails off.
Armin's pulse picks up. "Maybe…?" He leads her to continue.
A laugh both entertained and condescending shakes her pallid shoulders. "Again, if I wanted them—and that's a big if—, I'd make you do me again even after twenty times just to make sure you got the job done right."
The young soldier's cheeks are hurting from all his grinning today; that detail and tone is Annie-speak for yes—even if it was only in another time and place—she would have a family if she could, a family with him, and his fitness-hardened arms hold her tighter. Just the knowledge that she would lifts his heart a little higher.
They can't enjoy that route of life here, he's come to terms with that now, but hopefully—if miracles are an actual thing despite his better judgement—their Queen can before it's too late.
"We should probably head back soon." Armin says, the time that has passed by dawning on him. "I can't tell how long it's been since I came down here. For all I know, it's been a day. I think they deserve an update."
"Wait." Annie takes hold of his shoulders. "We still don't know how they're going to react."
"Better now than never then." He replies while sitting up.
A vexed noise clicks in Annie's mouth. Her forearms loop around his neck and tug him so he's hovering over her, his knees now resting at each side of her waist, "It's not that. Their heads could explode with anger and I wouldn't care. It's that you've taken too long and they're not daring enough to come see what we're doing. They must know or suspect what we're doing. For all I know, they might bar you from coming back down here and…" Graceful fingers push away thin strands hanging in his face. "I don't want that. If we're going to go back up, then before we do, I want to look at you this time. Just one more time and we'll go."
Thoughtful azure take in Annie's plea. She meant every word, hopes he can hear the genuine worry and care in her voice alone and god, Annie has never been more hopeful on him saying yes. She's still keyed up from their last time and whether she's barren or not, her tubes were growing blue from being disconnected from him for too long.
A jet of thoughtful air leaves Armin. "Well, we've had a good track record of no one walking in so far. One more time can't hurt."
Annie smiles coyly, a sight so rare and alluring, steam could fizz and pop out Armin's scalp right now. "I agree. I'll be jealous too—they'll have a better view of your backside then I will."
A light blush like a native paint markings highlights the space beneath Armin's eyes. Annie scoffs. "Don't tell me that embarrasses you. Not after everything we've done." Her hand ensnares his length's base in a vice-like hold, the motion minorly quirking the side of Armin's mouth. "Even holding you like this is second nature to me now."
Armin shakes his head. "Wasn't embarrassed about what you said at all. If they do see us, I'm just curious about what they'll say to seeing me getting you on your back."
Red illuminates her sun-starved cheeks. "And what makes you so sure it'll be me on my back this time?" She challenges.
Cerulean orbs gaze down coolly at searching crystal, as if hinting she already knows why. He draws his chin up with pride for dramatic effect, the borders of his mouth nearly a spiral from confidence.
Oh, that arrogant little—
"You are a little shit." Annie hisses out with the faintest of curling side-smiles. "Screw picking fluffy pet names, I'm sticking with that one for you."
"Whatever my Love wants."
"Oh, fuck off with that."
Annie collects his cheeks between a forefinger and thumb and with a quick yank, unites their lips. Their mouths move powerfully against one another, tongues flicking and dancing through jaws bobbing up and down, side to side. He groans from her fingertips long-stride pets on his cock, coaxing the young soldier back into a maddening hardness. A string of saliva connects them when their lips part and breaks when Armin bends down, nipping and sucking at her neck to bring back the hickeys she's steamed away. Annie's cute little yelp from all his nips and hands brushing her sides brings a satisfied grin to Armin's face but sharp-edged alarm shoots through his veins when Annie pushes up and crunches the side of his neck, her sharp incisors nearly drawing blood.
"H-Hey!" Armin sputters out, startled. "What was that for?!"
Sly, pink lips lovingly kiss the red-bitemark she leaves behind. "You've been through worse."
That's the final straw and Armin doesn't waste time in grappling her back down to the bed, her letting him with a light expectant smile. Her spread legs twitch when his drooling tip aims at her entrance and sinks in, Armin's size spreading her lips as he moves and her body opens, the slide so pulsing hot and thick and deep it all makes Annie's world complete again. His hands threaded through hers and laying on the sides of her head are soothingly heated, clenches them tighter when hard, slow thrusts start plowing into her. Wetness already leaks out the borders where they are joined and Armin bends down, sucking hungrily over each flushed, perky nipple, not following any rhythm, not giving her a moment of rest from overflowing pleasure.
Annie whines feebly. She doesn't like laying here doing nothing, doesn't like that she can't run her hands over his muscled back or shoulder blades, can hardly pick herself up to kiss him. He gets to touch her and she wants to touch him.
A powerful buck against Armin's thrust throws him off guard for a second and Annie quickly wriggles out from Armin's taken aback grip, cups his jaw and pulls him down into a fierce kiss. Her thighs squeeze tightly at his sides and momentum and a firm back propels them upward so quick to switch positions that once they reach sitting-upright, solid wood boards thwack the back of his head and her forehead.
"Shit!" "Ow!" They shout out in sync. Annie's lips peel down into a snarl, peering angrily at the wood board ceiling of the bunk bed. As Armin plops down on his back, rubbing his aching scalp, Annie slips off her ride and pushes him down to the floor with the covers toppling after him.
Her legs descend over the bedside, snarling, "What a pain. It's like these damn things were purposefully put in to keep people from fucking."
Armin makes a sore noise down below, his legs sticking up in the air with his body tangled in bedsheets.
"Why am I always the one getting pushed around?" Armin grumbles from the floor. His bangs are curled back, exposing his forehead wrinkling from irritation. "This gets annoying after a while."
"Because your body is too slow." The eager woman walks over, kicking away the pesky bedsheet. She yanks his legs open, sliding sweltering hands on lean, fair thighs until she's stapled him to the floor by his hips. She sneers like a haughty conqueror over him. "Exhibit A."
Armin supports himself up with his arms behind his back, frowning childishly. "You caught me off guard."
"No, my body just reacts better than yours." She smoothly shoots back. "But we can compete on whose better at this."
Armin's jaw slackens when soft lips fasten over the base of his anxious sex, breathing a humid cloud over the space. Annie's increasingly skilled mouth draws a line with her tongue between his testicles, turns her head-sideways and slurps up one, sucking around the ball gently, all of which evokes a flurry of stuttering gasps from Armin. Her tongue's wet stripe follows a vein's path up until she reaches his engorged tip, taking him into the wet pocket of her mouth eagerly. His hands balling bedsheets below are added to his pleased moans as she adds suction to his tip.
The groaning soldier is enthralled at how strands of bleached blonde hang over her face, lust-drowned eyes focused and keen on finding his pleasure. Even her hands are soothingly warm on his thighs, massaging pleasant circles in his muscles. Still, Armin can't help flushing the tiniest bit when he hears the louder wet sounds clapping against his skin, her nursing of his aching pole growing more focused and stronger as hard pink-red disappears and reappears between her glistening lips.
Her trek down laps up the not-entirely unpleasant mixture of both their tastes—a musky flavor with undertones of bitter salt—and it piques Annie's interest. She's eager to wipe his special tool clean, housing him warmly in her mouth as every suck undulates her tongue back and forth on the underside of his lip-enclosed length.
"I'm not-uun-I'm not going to last long if you keep doing this." Armin warns breathlessly, one eye pinched closed. Her zeal is flattering, but the pleasure spring in his stomach is coiling unbearably tighter and tighter.
His erection slips from her lips. Annie kisses the red twitching shaft that's left her a screaming mess before and with her plans, will do so again many times. "Can't have that now."
Annie quickly hops onto the soldier's waiting lap and his hands are quick to pull her hips closer him, sliding skillful palms and digits over her sides and soft, toned rear, all of his caresses in tandem of her rising up from her folded knees. Clutching his blazing hot staff in thirst-trembling hands, Annie lines Armin up with her dripping entrance and slides him into her hot sleeve again. Like strong magnets, their pelvises clash together quick and hard, leaving the two soldiers filled to the brim with each other as a duet of breathless groans follows suit.
She grips all of him tightly again, always hot and snug; he stretches her wonderfully and stores himself deeper than she ever could imagine. Annie grips his shoulders, supporting herself to lift up as he latches to her hips, sure to always follow wherever she goes. Then she stops.
For two long seconds, Annie looks down at him and Armin up at her, twin vibrant blues flooded with want and deep thought staring deep into each other. A switch in the two young shifters turns on and their bodies finally move; they are slow, steady, rutting a controlled roll of hips into each other. A soft exhale leaves them after every wave-like bounce, lowers their eyes into half-lids from sucking heat rippling against pulsating thickness.
Annie rests her hands under Armin's ears so fingers intertwine behind his shaved neck, keeping his forehead against hers as he grabs the solid back of her leg, sliding and holding it back so she sits higher and tighter on him. He pumps stronger but barely faster throughout her cresting into his lap, a sheen of sweat from overheating coating their crimson-emitting bodies.
Damp disorienting heat contracts around every pleasured nerve in Armin's sex and spears into Annie's wet tunnel. Their foreheads rarely depart, only flinch back barely when Armin pushes up to sink into her deeper, lips always hovering over the other's but never touching. The young man's muscles tremble as he grunts, overcome from the sensations overloading his body.
"Annie…" He groans. He pushes into her harder, his forehead puckered from focus rubbing against her perspiring one. "Annie, you always feel so good…"
His deep thrust crashes his tip into her cervix and it leaves Annie a gasping, reeling mess, the edges of her world flickering with white light
"Oh, and you always know where to hit." She praises breathlessly, digging shaking fingers into the back of his neck.
She drops and Armin rocks forward anxiously to meet her, hitting each sensitive, squishy spot she needs him. Strained, needy moans leave her as Armin leaves open-kisses in the middle of her chest, laves so slowly over the space before transitioning to her breast and sucking a captive nipple. It's taking all Annie's focus to not reach her peak before him so she occupies herself with nipping the side of his neck, slowly clawing over his chest and shoulders, barely keeping the heat pressuring tight in her core at bay.
"Armin…". She moans. Her body bends back from his torso leaning into her, arms pulling her legs back as tight as he can, working tirelessly to bring them both over the edge. "Oh, Armin."
Armin thrusts more erratically and her slapping drops react the same. They're over-sensitive and quick to burst, a few more hard collisions and they'll make it. Hot hands rub Armin's chest and simmer on each spot like she's left a flaming imprint, Annie calls his name, and Armin claps his hips harder into her battered pelvis until finally, he comes undone.
Hot feverish waves crash over him with a deep sigh, his final deep thrust snapping into action another orgasm inside Annie too, leaving them to finish through smooth hard thrusts and low, breathy gasps. As the flood of orgasm dies down to trickle down their thighs, Annie notices they've reached their peak much more quietly and calmly than they have in their last few rolls in the hay. The bomb rattling anxiously in their cores wasn't painfully tight or desperate to be unleashed this time, but rather, soothingly unleashed quick, pleasant currents in them without the bone-rattling pleasure impact. Annie wonders why that is.
She slumps over Armin, resting her red face on his pink shoulder. Her chest pressed on his senses his heart calming down like hers is. He's complimented her outside these physical connections, given her a loving nickname too; the least she can do is give him something more than praises said during sex. The socially-deprived woman doesn't quite know how it works, but she searches for something that's true.
"You always know what I need and more." Annie sighs. Her hands work an oscillating massage on the back of his shoulder-blade. "It's like you have a sixth sense—I'd hope so too after all of our go's lately."
Annie winces into his neck. She hadn't meant to come across as teasing—or sappy, mostly— but more often than not, Armin passes her expectations in hitting everywhere she wants him, in both body and mind. A doubt in the back of her head mocks that he deserves more than her who struggles with little things like giving compliments, much more. She nervously looks up to see if Armin's eyes tell her that he agrees with the voice.
Her side-glance through a crack in her loose hair see him gazing down through lazy-lids. He smiles lightly and her back a little. He wants to say those golden words to her, but he doesn't—not because he's nervous or because Annie won't return his feelings, but because for now, he sees she's only comfortable with letting the saying twinkle in her frozen lake gaze.
Annie kisses Armin's cooled cheek. "Give me a few minutes to find a needle and thread. I'll get my hoodie and sew the patch on. They may get the message then and we won't have to say much else."
It's a little too optimistic but worth trying. Annie does exactly what she says a few minutes later, black thread strands now locking tight the Wings of Freedom on the fabric over her heart, matching the one on his green coat. As they dress and exit the barracks, Armin's focus is locked on the cave's ceiling and walls as they walk. Jagged bulges of blue lead up the road until they begin slogging up the inclined path to the surface and Armin sees how craters are left behind from where rock had been purged.
His hyperactive mind whirrs, recognizing that the cultivated pockets look like holes left behind by what the outside world calls mines. He's seen glimpses of past and now current warfare, how bombs are encapsulated in metal capsules and hidden beneath the earth, waiting to unleash a lethal blast.
Armin tears his eyes away and sucks in a deep breath.
Why did everything around him have to remind him of the minefield they're walking into right now?
It's colder than Annie remembers—outright freezing. She huddles close to Armin and him to her, both acting as walls against the brisk winds as she keeps her hands in her pockets and his under his pits.
Once they reach the mouth of the cave, the drawn down teeth of the metal portcullis blocks their exit. Armin blinks in confusion. The unblocked, frosty air nearly numbs his entire face when the thick gate is centimeters from his nose. He sees through the iron squares how the setting sun barely peeks through a misty sky, how snow mounds scattered on the white ground are larger than Armin remembers with the surrounding pine and oak tree's branches overburdened by a heftier weight of snow.
"So, you finally decided to show up." A gruff voice calls out. Jean reveals himself from the corner, a fire barely alive with life resting nearby. The borders and insides of his coat are thicker from full, brown animal fur having been packed and sewn into his coat. "And they called me a selfish bastard. You just might take my medal, Armin, what with you taking your sweet time in there while we're sitting here freezing our asses off."
A reflex to step forward jolts Annie's calf but Armin's determined, unbending stance lets both Jean and her know that he won't be guilted so easily.
"Don't be a drama queen." A voice which speeds up Annie's heart says. "The skins from the bison have been keeping us plenty warm and the worst of the storm is over." Wearing the same garb as Jean, Hitch trudges through the snow to stand next to him. When she makes it to her frowning comrade, the brunette slaps his arm with makeshift fur gloves. "You're welcome, by the way."
Jean snorts. "Okay, you can sew. Hooray. You'll be a great mistress yet." His glove of tied fabric around his palms with a fur covering rubs under his red-tipped nose. "Besides, it's not all that great. I can't wear my maneuver gear in this because it snags like crazy and I can barely hold my rifle with these gloves. But with you being more into stupid fashion than being a fighter, you probably aren't concerned with important issues like that."
Hitch holds out her hand. "Alright, give the coat back then if you're going to be that way. See how you fare in the cold with only your wimpy fire to help you."
A predatory growl rattles behind Jean's snarl. "Hitch, your timing on being a pain is just as shit as your cooking. Back. Off."
"Okay, fine." Hitch rolls her eyes, looks at her two caged squad mates and pumps a thumb at Jean. "Mr. Always-Serious here has a bone to pick with you."
Balls of brown escape the head-shaking Hitch to zero in on Annie, her new piece of clothing and the Wings of Freedom patch grabbing his attention. Hot air jets through his nostrils from harsher breathing. "Just because you wear our symbol doesn't make you one of us."
"It doesn't." Annie affirms vacantly. "But I'll wear it if I want to."
"Even if your entire team hates you? The entire Eldian population too?"
Hitch makes a face before Annie responds, "That's to be expected. I pledged myself to the symbol, I'll wear the symbol. Everyone else doesn't matter and is nothing but chatter in the background to me."
Anger-quivering brown and controlled grey marble engage in a glare battle once again. Jean flickers his attention to Armin.
"Armin." Jean calls to him, his tone deathly serious. "All you have to do is answer one question. None of us are dumb and the walk over here was more than enough for me to see that there's something more than pleasant fraternizing going on between you two." An emotion Armin can't place refracts over Jean's eyes. "My question to you is this: will you still fight with us or are you too busy being intimate with someone still flagged as a potential enemy?"
"Both." Armin responds without so much as a pause. He isn't going to fall for such a stupid, half-assed question.
"You can't be both." Jean stresses through gritted teeth.
"I've figured out a lot of things and I'll figure out how to juggle both of you. You know me well enough to know that I can."
"And how do I know that she isn't manipulating you in some way? Your Titan shit is weird and I don't know what other tricks you guys have up your sleeves. Having you under her thumb must be a bonus for her, too."
Armin shares with Jean a semi-insulted squint of eyes. "Annie is too forward to be good at any form of lying and you know that. So, no. She isn't manipulating me. Now my question to you is who did you get your own ideas from for the strategizing of manipulation, Jean? And where does everyone else in the Survey Corp know where to find the one person who is the best?"
It's him and the quiet filler between everyone suggests that they know fakes and future troubles are always seen through Armin's forever-explorative eyes in the end.
Jean's brows tipped with powdered frost furrow. "Am I wrong to think then that you've chosen her instead of us?"
"Yes. Just because I've taken a lover doesn't make me any less on your side. I'll work with you just like Annie promised to."
Annie's lucky where she stands is fairly dark because she's never flushed this furiously in her life, especially publicly. Armin says the word lover so candidly, she has to pretend to scratch her face and appear to find a rocky wall interesting to hide her blood-red cheeks.
Brown orbs stay focused on Armin before being closed off. "I don't doubt your dedication but with your admission of being romantic with the enemy, you leave me no choice. As Squad Leader, I will issue orders to my subordinates to keep you confined in this cave until further orders are given. You'll be consulted on tactical approaches but not upon your own request. This gate will stay down, all supplies will be provided to you, and you will be guarded around the clock. Once I receive word from Hange and Levi, I'll notify them of your treachery."
"Jean," Hitch tugs at his thick shoulder sleeve, her features nervous. "You can't be serious."
"I am." He declares resolutely. "If this is the path Armin wants to follow, fine. But the Corps has a response too and this is it." He looks on Hitch suspiciously. "And because I have no proof of you helping him, I can't toss you in there with them. Although, it is strange to see you so concerned. Are you giving me proof now?"
"Fuck you, Jean! You just locked up two of us so what kind of moron would I be if I wasn't concerned?!" She shoves the tall man. "Damn it, I thought you might actually be some upstanding guy too. Were you actually listening to Floch's garbage all along? Because to me, you're acting like his stupid fascist cult lings!"
"You never did understand what it means to be a soldier. I don't expect you to now."
"Your honor and your tenacity can eat shit for all I care. Just let them out!"
Annie stays as a worried, engrossed bystander as Hitch hammers harsh words and more shoves onto the unmoving squad leader. Armin joins Annie, the bitter disappointment toward Jean staring at him so menacingly needling into his chest. Through Hitch's yelling and Jean's glowering, the stabbing emotions in Armin halt, an unconscious analysis sinking in.
Jean's determined eyes are muddy with clashing emotions flowing through it, like his face is firmly creased in desire to be angry but the flare doesn't reach his eyes. The needles in Armin's chest melt into a lukewarm flood of realization.
He has been locked in with his admitted lover and has been told there will be no way he is leaving with everything to be provided for them. Jean has maintained the image of a soldier doing his duty but the two men's strong bonds built through pain and understanding has let Jean know that Armin hates being away from Annie.
Jean is either a true leader able to confront his closest of friends or the best friend a man could ask for by doing this to him. Or—much like Armin's own answer—he's both.
"Fuck!" A loud voice yells close by. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!"
A metal anchor whizzes by, latching onto the rocky space above the descended portcullis. The fur-poncho covered body of Connie zips through the air, boots clopping onto the frozen stone upon landing.
"What the hell did you do?!" Jean yells.
A guttural roar answers Jean. A raging Bison crashes through the green cloud line of bushes across the open forest space, pitch-black eyes fixed on the buzzed haired man. Two more Bison standing seven feet high erupt from the bushes, radiating the same vicious anger. Jean and Hitch's backs straighten in alarm.
"Fuck it all, Connie. I told you to get dinner not piss it off!" Jean barks.
"Those three weren't there before and I used the bow to be quiet like you said to do!" Connie reasons fearfully, a cold-sweat on the sides of his face. "I swear! They might have been a part of the same herd as my kill and came charging when they saw me harvesting!"
Two bison heads bow, leading into a horn-tipped charge and adrenaline pumps, sparking alive a determined soldier's training. Jean jumps for his rifle resting against the cave's side, Connie falls down and flies back up with Hitch cradled in his arms while Armin is yanked back right when horns and a solid head crash and clang against the iron gate. Armin—once standing deathly close to the squared bars where two sets of sharp horns now pull away from—winces, his arm throbbing like it's been dislocated. Annie stands in front of him, thumb flesh pinched between her teeth in preparation for the worst.
Jean sprints away from the remaining Bison whose hooves clop into a charge, cursing while trying to load his rifle. Annie's teeth shift to chomp hard, the fuming animal locks on Jean and as he raises his rifle, Mikasa swoops in. He is scooped up underneath her arm—much to his loud discontent—and the two swing into a white-dusted branch to the right of the cave's opening. Once Jean sits comfortably, a vein of irritation pulses on his forehead.
"Connie, you fucking liar. I see an arrow in all of their asses! You got ambitious again! Or you missed!"
Connie's mouth flops, panicked and searching for an answer while Jean takes aim again. Mikasa's palm pushing down on the gun's freezing muzzle stops him.
"We've brought enough attention to ourselves, don't make more." Mikasa instructs calmly. "We still don't know if anyone is around us."
As Jean stares and reluctantly obeys, Mikasa unsheathes her swords hidden beneath her poncho. With the bison prowling in a line along the snow, clanging impatient heads into the portcullis to reach those inside and Connie, metal spears from Mikasa's maneuver gear eject straight-ahead, latching into the middle of the rocky structure. A blast of air shoots her forward, the Ackerman morphing into a twirling, razor-tipped tornado which cuts so quick and fast through the air, arcs of blood and shredded fur limbs are all that's left in her path. Mikasa flips mid-air and halts herself with a tip of her foot on the iron gate. The two metal ropes keeping her up retract into swirling pulleys as she jumps back and lands into red-white snow.
The new couple could only stare powerlessly through the metal bars. The elite fighter quickly swiped her swords down to flick off thicker streams of blood. She glances up at Connie. "Looks like we have jerky for the next couple of weeks. Come down here and collect it so we can hang it. It only seems fair after you lead them here."
Connie nose and mouth twitch from a gross penance he's unhappy to perform but he complies. He descends, placing Hitch and himself in the bed of snow as Jean hops off his branch.
"You saved me!" Hitch applauds theatrically. She jumps like a dramatic, saved princess into Mikasa's waiting arms, the taller girl's face blank and aimed forward. "I just knew you'd come to our little ol' rescue! Knew it, knew it, knew it!"
Everyone is not biting on her bad attempt at acting, greatly displeasing Hitch. She pouts and aims her sights to where Mikasa is looking.
The brunette's features wobble. She then explodes into a series of snickers and evil laughs like a vicious bully discovering a cruel new nickname while Mikasa raises her chin. Confused, Armin looks down.
Annie grabbed his hand when she yanked him back and is still holding it with the tightest of iron grips. Just as confused, she looks back and sees Armin staring at their joined hands.
From the cave emerged a new species of people painted blood-red from the tips of their toes to the tops of their heads and the Survey Corp members are witnesses to its thin population: Armin and Annie.
Embarrassed, reflex makes Annie want to throw Armin's hand back at him with the enthusiasm of a petulant child tossing a swing, but she doesn't. Instead, her red face purses her lips, continuously clutching Armin's hand with averted eyes. Hitch guffaws so hard and loud, one hand clutches her stomach whereas the other grabs straight bangs on a head that's thrown back. Mikasa only stares, Connie's eyes flitter to them and to the meat he harvests, unsure of what to think whereas Jean helps cultivate their hunt, pretending to ignore them.
"You guys say you're intimate and then you blush at something as vanilla as that!" Hitch laughs loudly. She has to gasp a couple of times to retrieve breath. "Oh my god, you guys really don't know anything, do you? You're like two five-year olds with a crush."
"Shut up." Jean scolds her from the ground. "There could be enemy scouts nearby. You want to expose us?"
"Mikasa will come by and save the day if so." Hitch extends to the Ackerman a playful wink. "Right, black-hair goddess?"
Annie, Armin, and Mikasa hear Hitch's and Jean's arguing, but they're too focused on each other. For the first time, Mikasa stares at the two of them together with no wary, peevish look. It's a lighter exchange, onyx eyes peeking through black bangs a tad at ease.
"Interesting…" Mikasa muses softly.
"What?" Hitch inquires.
Black orbs roll to Hitch, the faintest crack of a smile twitching her lips. "Nothing."
Mikasa drops the brunette—her yelp from surprise at her sudden drop and rump sinking into the wet snow. The two soldiers gather what they can from the beasts before Mikasa rotates around and walks back to the outpost, Jean and Connie at her side. She fusses about with something beneath her fur poncho and slings it over her back: the wooden crescent of a bow and an empty quiver of arrows.
Hitch's eyes stare intently then after mental gears churn for a moment, she begins to smolder. "Hold on, you were out with Connie too. Was it actually you who brought the bison here?!" Hitch swings her fists down so they are fixed at her sides, already judging Mikasa before she can respond. "What the hell is wrong with you?! I could have been speared to death and so could have Jean! And for what? Some beast whose remnants will just sit out in the cold?!"
"You were never in any real danger." Mikasa responds tranquilly. "You had me to come save you and the others would if I wasn't here." Scanning eyes look back to the gate barring the cave. "Right, Annie?"
Annie's free hand clenches. She smells a test of loyalty constructed unbeknownst to everyone except the three walking away, searching if Annie—even when kept within a barrier of protection—would act on saving Armin, would even bother to save the others in peril around her. The faintest drop of life seen in more recently empty eyes leads Annie to believe she passed or has given Mikasa a little hope...for now.
"Mikasa!" Armin darts forward, clutching the deathly-cold iron bars. His passion to talk to her pushes, tugs, and uselessly attempts to spread apart the squared gate, but he can't. The only way to get through is to transform and he's not so stupid as to light a mushroom cloud flare to the world on where they are hiding.
Hitch walks forward, the ends of her brows down-turned woefully. "Sorry, Armin. Somehow the pole is up Jean's ass even farther today, but I have to do what he says. I want you to be happy too, but…this is the route it has to go down with your choice. I don't like it either but…that's how it is."
No one is ecstatic about this and Annie shuffles the gravel side to side with boots still too large for her small feet, hiding her face. Armin is the only one who is not hunched over from misery but displaying a back straightened from intense resolution.
"Makes sense to me but I hope Jean doesn't expect me to say I do or I will regret any of this." The young man says decidedly. "I don't and I won't. I'll make this work. I'll sit out here in the cold until it's time for Mikasa's watch if that's what I have to do. It's not like I'll die."
Surprised amber and geyser-blue orbs are fixed on the man onlooking into the white-green cloud forest. Hitch allows a smirk to rise.
"Quite the confidence in you, Armin." Hitch admires, a trace a mockery never leaving her voice. "Almost a little scary."
It's after a long pause with winter winds ruffling the hair on their faces when Annie puts a foot forward. "Armin, go start a bath." She orders like she's bored. "It's cold and musky down there and the stench from the mine isn't helping you out."
A slow turn of Armin neck over to her says he's both confused and minorly offended, but more so confused. He takes the hint from a quick dart of her eyes from Hitch to him.
"Got it. But remember, you're not smelling so great yourself. I'll make sure one is ready for you too."
A death twinkle in Annie's eye shines like the brightest star in the sky and Hitch giggles behind the back of her hand. Armin lets a small smile curl his lip before trekking back down into the deep black of the cave.
"Musky, eh?" Hitch purrs with a seductress's smirk. "I hope you mean because of the dead creatures in there with you, Annie. You have a boyfriend now so I'm inclined to believe it's not." A pensive tune echoes in the back of her throat. "Does that mean you have a few new tricks for me? I've missed you too and these bars are just barely keeping me away."
A hiss of breath plumes out Annie's lips. "I never bought the siren act, Hitch. There's no need to act like that around me. There never was."
Hitch lips pull down and hip tilts to the side. "Hmm, an act? That's quite an accusation. You seem to forget that you and I have never officially hung out. How would you ever know about how I actually am?"
"I can smell people who are just as horrible at lying as I am and you're one of them. But unlike me, you just use your teasing as a way to side-step everything."
Genuine annoyance teeters back and forth on the brunette's lips. "You know, I volunteered to sit on an ass slowly turning into ice because I wanted to see you, not hear about all your so-called dissections about me. I actually thought about you while you were gone and Armin isn't the only one who stuck their neck out for you. Some kind of appreciation would be nice."
Annie can only sigh and close her eyes in self-chastisement. This whole pleasant conversation thing is still so new and just because she's five years older doesn't mean she's past her sixteen-year-old behavior.
"Sorry." Is all Annie can manage and even that is enough to raise the fine hair-lines above Hitch's eyes. Her hooded back slides against the metal bars until her rump settles on gravel as cold as the freezing snow.
It's an odd move to Hitch, wrinkles the side of her face as she ponders what Annie is doing. The blonde girl isn't so sure herself but is inevitably answered when another back slides down the metal bars, both of their bodies parted by thick, glacially-cold iron.
"Armin told me everything." Annie prefaces mournfully. "About Marley, Shiganshina...you..."
Hitch makes a derisive huff. "How rude. I would think he would ask me first before spilling all my dirty secrets to anyone else."
"You didn't let me finish."
"Why? What is there more to even say? Almost everyone from the old regiment is dead, staying in the walls isn't safe anymore, and the world is going to shit. Want me to sing that tune for you again?"
The young prisoner blinks. Hitch is not being completely direct with her, something which is odd to Annie. She sounds like she's trying to dodge her curiosity entirely, but the military woman's tone tells Annie she wants someone to find her sadness.
As the Titan shifter gazes on toward the cracks rifting the cavern walls, the threads of understanding stitch and come together tighter in her.
Hitch hides behind a mask—a different mask from Annie's but it's a smokescreen all the same—and leaves only breadcrumbs for people she finds truly interesting to pick up. To Annie, this whole ordeal is already exhausting and confusing and quite honestly, a pain in her ass, but now she sees why Armin was so dead set on her—how for some people, it's worth the painstaking effort to poke and prod and express care but only get pellets of information in return. Despite her continued silence, side-glances, and non-answers toward their curiosities to her, care has mysteriously established itself in all of them. Her shell has been pierced without her knowledge but it isn't unpleasant for Annie to find out that the bud of care in her has flowered further and wants to try and extend what Hitch and Armin tried to do for her on them.
"One thing didn't make sense to me." Annie says gently. "It always looked like you were looking for something more rather than just a good time when you left on our days off. Even when you showed me your tally in how many people you've slept with, you didn't seem satisfied. Not from the number but…from something. It's been a long time since then. Did you ever find it?"
Hitch is quiet before responding. "I'm not used to you talking so much. I'm starting to think you caused this bad weather by making hell freeze over."
"Don't feel like you have to answer me if you don't want to. I was only telling you what I saw. I could be wrong."
Silence again. "I did find it, but it took me too long to figure out where they were."
Annie sadly fills in the void, even though Hitch must feel like she's making it so clear. "Marlowe...?"
A light dusting of snow falls over the brunette's blocked face. "He was always such a righteous, pretentious, stupid idiot." She spits out acidly. "I still don't get it. I don't know why it had to be him."
Annie doesn't either and to her, these unspoken bonds that were forged are so stupidly inconvenient and wonderful and doomed to curse their species for a millennium more, if they make it that far.
The blond prisoner sits, not knowing what else to say, searches desperately for it in the underworked problem-solving parts of her brain where ideas to comfort are born. With a spider's legs grace, Annie's fingers crawl through the snow and thick metal square of the gate. Annie slides her pale hand over Hitch's unmoving one, closing her fingers around a person she truly could call a friend.
Hitch doesn't move or say a word. She tilts her head back so her nose points to the sky, struggling peace and mockery blended into one smile. "I always knew you were a softie." She mocks through a cracked voice.
A quip rolls around on Annie's tongue and she swishes it about in her mouth for a long few seconds. Hitch then returns her hold, gripping onto Annie so tightly, the young shifter can feel the brunette's blood pumping through the cold bricking her skin.
Like so much of everything else, Annie lets her wisecrack go this time and the two women sit in silence.