Aruani week, Day 7&8
Prompts : Ice (day 7) & Sleep(day 8)
Rating : M (for smut/nsfw content)
Excuse my slightly weird interpretation of the prompts. :P
Ever since she was a child, Annie has always been a light sleeper. The slightest of disturbances would have her up for hours.
Sadly, marriage and a kid have done nothing to change that fact.
So when she hears a noise go thump followed by a slight scraping tune, she is instantly awake. She glances at the clock on her nightstand. It's 3 a.m, pitch dark and Armin is sleeping soundly, his soft breathing tickling her ears.
Extricating herself from her husband's groggy hold, she makes her way down the stairs, quiet as ever, her blood infused with adrenaline.
This is supposed to be a safe neighbourhood, she thinks, moving faster as she hears some clinking noises. There's never been any reports of thefts or burglaries in the area.
She listens for a moment. The intruder seems to be careful, doing their level best to keep quiet but Annie has excelled in martial arts and the first lesson they teach you is how to be aware.
As she moves instinctively closer to the source of the noise, she realises it's coming from the kitchen and she's slightly confused. Why the kitchen? She can't remember keeping any of their valuables there.
Taking a deep breath, she flicks the light switch on. She's fast, a fact she has always prided herself on, and she knows she can use the intruder's alarm to her advantage.
So when she sees a familiar mop of blond hair, peeking from under the kitchen counter, she wants to smack herself. She should've guessed.
"I can see you, Ariana."
She is beyond relieved that her panicky assumptions hadn't been true but also slightly annoyed that her sleep, sparse as it is, is now gone with the wind.
The little girl hesitates for a moment, contemplating her course of action and finally decides to crawl out from under the counter, hitting her head on the dark marble slab. "Owww," she whines, rubbing her head gingerly.
Annie wants to be sympathetic and rub her head for her but her eyes narrow at the little box that she was hiding behind her back. It had dropped to the floor and rolled into her view when she had hit her head.
"Is that a tub of Ben and Jerry's that I see on the floor?"
The young blonde stops rubbing her head and spots her half empty tub of ice cream on the floor. She is brave enough to attempt a look at her mother's face and she gulps. Her face is sticky with hard, visible proof of her indulgence. Her secret is exposed, she is doomed and nothing can save her now. Hurriedly, she reaches for the ice cream, clutching it to her chest as though her life depends on it.
"The very same tub of Ben and Jerry's chocolate chip ice cream that I specifically told you to stop eating earlier in the evening?" Annie's voice is sharp. She had already finished more than a third of it during the day.
She has the grace to look guilty. "But mommy, it was just a midnight snack!"
Annie couldn't believe it. She had been preparing for the worst, her mind having conjured up images of fearsome bandits dressed from head to toe in black, armed and dangerous, yet here she was dealing with her errant ten year old daughter and her incorrigible ice cream addiction.
"Nobody has ice cream for a midnight snack," she says, exasperated, "you'll get sick, Ariana!"
Her face crumples, eyes dropping, her quivering mouth sticking out to form her best impression of a puppy face. "Pleeease mommy?"
She had gotten really good at the art of manipulative gestures, Annie would give her that. Blessed with her father's soft, innocent features and guileless light blue eyes, it was quite common for Annie to simply give in to her pleas, as crazy as they may be.
But today was not one of those days.
She glares at her daughter, a brilliant blue weapon that has had many cowering in intimidation when she was younger. "You're going to bed this instant, young lady."
She looks back at her mom in defiance, stubbornly holding on to her treasure tightly.
It wasn't that she had lost her touch, just that evidently both father and daughter were completely immune to it.
"Ariana," Annie says, voice low with warning. But before could resort to another session of "pleeeeases" and "I've been such a good girl, I deserve this," strong arms swoop her up, with the tub of ice cream in tow, as she lets out a little squeal of surprise.
"Hey daddy," she says giggling when she sees that it's him, "do you want some?"
He's tempted but when he sees Annie's face, stern and unrelenting, he just plants a soft kiss on her round little nose and says, "I don't think so, sweetheart, Mommy knows what's good for us."
She pouts, genuinely dejected because she isn't used to her father denying her. "Off to bed we go," he says laughing at her antics and tickling her as he carries her to her room.
Seeing them disappear into the bedroom, she smiles to herself, it's amazing to see just how strikingly similar they were, from their ever playful temperament to their profound sweet tooth.
In all their years of dating, Armin had always been the one to finish off the box of valentine's day chocolates he would give her. And it's downright cheesy, but she thinks that maybe that has something to do with how he is such a sweet person.
But dealing with what seemed like two Armins sometimes, was a little taxing even for her.
She enters the room and looks at the bed, the covers still warm from where they had slept. She doesn't know why but all of a sudden she is struck with the inexplicable urge to do nothing but cuddle up to him till the sun comes up, and maybe even re explore the deep, enticing cavern of intimacy that they haven't had the time for in weeks.
Married life is hard and though Armin is a wonderfully attentive, affectionate husband, the end of the day almost always leaves him tired.
But she misses him, his warmth, his touch, his kisses. Determined, she shimmies out of her sleep shorts, making up her mind to surprise him when he gets back to the room.
As she reaches for the hem of her oversized sleep shirt, ready to pull it off, she hears the familiar voice, this time with an amused intonation.
"Can't say I don't enjoy the striptease, love."
She colours, turning around abruptly to make some smart retort, but she is immediately swept into his embrace, his hands encircling her waist and pulling her close. "It's amazing how beautiful you can look even in the middle of the night," he murmurs, combing his hands through her golden locks.
She smiles, shamelessly drinking in the compliments and she's certain she's going to get what she wants tonight.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tugs on his hair, pulling him down for a kiss, because she can express so much more that way. His lips are soft and light, like a feather almost and she snakes her tongue across his lower lip, wanting to feel more and tasting a slight tinge of chocolate that seems awfully familiar.
Wait. Chocolate?!
He tilts his head backward, avoiding her eager kiss, laughter in his eyes. He could literally feel the question on her lips.
"Oh shit, my ice cream is going to melt," he says, completely slaying the mood that had been drifting between them, and when he hurries back to the tub of ice cream he had kept on the bedside table, Annie's jaw almost drops open.
He did not just turn me down for ice cream.
"Is that…?" she asks, taking a moment to piece it together, because she still cannot believe it, "Armin, you were supposed to keep that back in the fridge!"
"You didn't tell me to," he says calmly, shoving a spoonful into his mouth, a crooked grin splaying on his face.
She makes her way to him and tries to grab it from him, but he is a good couple of heads taller than him, so he evades her with ease.
Before she can realize it, she's on her back, wedged under him. He looks at her, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, but he still has the spoon in his mouth, savouring the sweet essence of chocolate in his mouth.
"Oh just put it down," she says bluntly, although she knows it's futile, she isn't really in the position to be authoritative right now. He's playing with her, she realizes, because Armin can read her like a book, and he knows perfectly well what she wants.
"But I'm enjoying my ice cream, Annie," he mock pouts, swirling his tongue on the chocolate covered spoon and sucking off the remains. She gulps, pupils blown out because she's sick of watching him lick the ice cream, she wants his mouth on her, her lips and all the other wanton places craving for his attention.
"Kiss me," she implores, she really isn't in a position to claim the kiss herself, pinned beneath him.
"Take off your shirt," he orders quietly, trying not to grin, and she complies, recognizing that look in his eyes, the one which means he's got an idea, not knowing whether to feel frustrated or turned on because she likes pushy Armin, but he still hasn't kissed her.
This is his idea, he's supposed to be in control, but he lets out a sharp, audible breath when she throws off her tshirt in a hurry, because Annie naked, bathed in the dim yellow light of the bedside lamp, is indeed a sight to see.
He scoops up another spoonful of ice cream and brings it to her mouth, offering it to her silently. He pulls away when she tilts up to lick it, and it melts, tiny drops slipping in between her lips. This isn't what she wants but she relishes the milky texture on her tongue, the rich taste melting into her mouth.
He holds the spoon lower, and it dribbles onto her neck, as he watches the tiny brown rivulets run between her collarbones to the valley of her breasts.
She shivers and she isn't sure if it's from the cold of the ice cream or just how erotic this gesture really is.
"Armin," she breathes shakily, and he realizes that it's not fair for him to have all the fun, so he bends down and kisses her, wet and messy and it's enough for her to know that he isn't as unaffected as he seems.
"Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Ice Cream," he murmurs softly, as he presses kisses her to jaw, following the trail of an escaped ice cream drop. "My favorite."
His lips are soft, caressing the curve of her neck and she moans lightly when he nips at her collarbone, arresting the little globule that rested at the hollow between. Distracting her with his butterfly kisses downward, he presses the spoon on to her nipple and she hisses, shaking, because the metal is bitingly cold against the sensitive tips of her skin. "Oh-!" she moans, arching against him, his mouth now warm and wet over the cold skin and she can feel everything south of her tighten in the most delicious way.
He doesn't stop there, pursuing the chocolate stream that is running down her china skin, down to her abdomen, his lips ghosting over navel. He can smell her, her skin mixed with rich chocolate and the distinct smell of her arousal and he can feel himself straining painfully against the fabric of his pants.
"Armin," she says, another unintelligible raspy utterance of his name, but he understands.
"Open your legs, Annie," he whispers, and she does, even his patience is wearing thin, because there is only so long he can withstand the sight of his beautiful wife, naked and aroused without being driven insane.
She takes a deep breath, thankful that he isn't going to make her wait but all she can do is groan as he shifts downward, teeth grazing the skin of her inner thighs. She feels the spoon now on her abdomen, the melted ice now flowing south, and Armin is quick to reach between her legs, long fingers making short work of her underwear. Somewhere at the back of her mind she knows she's supposed to be embarrassed but her entire body shudders when the cold droplets dip into the warmth of her core and she is now ready to beg.
His head shifts in between her legs, and he is relentless in his pursuit of the chocolate droplets that are driving her crazy, dipping his tongue into her folds, and she whimpers, a low needy noise that makes him feel just a little bit sorry for her, so he pushes two fingers inside. She responds eagerly, hips jerking to meet him and Armin lets out a husky laugh. "So impatient."
"Please," she says, a ruined plea that he just cannot ignore anymore because he is hard and throbbing, this painfully sweet taunting has gone on long enough.
"Ready?" he mumbles hoarsely, not knowing why he still asks even after all these years because she has given enough indication that she is, in fact, wet and aching for him and definitely more than just ready.
He buries himself within her in one swift motion, familiar hands sweeping over the curves of the body he knows better than his own, and she cries out, a sharp, desperate sound, because he is hot, hard and so impossibly amazing inside her that she is this close to unraveling. He kisses her hard, not caring that he probably tastes of her, more teeth than lips in a reminder that as much as he loves to hear her fall apart he doesn't want to wake Ariana.
But that was hard to keep in mind when with each thrust he just felt more and more like a teenager, the feeling of just being inside her so impossibly good, his self-restraint threatening to vanish in mere seconds.
"Annie," he breathes out, hitting hard against that spot, over and over again, till she comes hard, convulsing helplessly around him, with incoherent whimpers of his name.
Armin follows soon after, emptying into her and muffling his groans into her mouth. He eases out of her and kisses her softly, as she buries her face, mumbling raggedly into his sweat-slicked shoulder.
"That was fun."
..
~The next day morning~
"Ariana," she calls, as the tiny blonde runs out the door. "You forgot your lunch box!" Annie runs behind her to the bus stop, thankfully getting there before the bus did.
"Thanks, mommy!" the little girl says reaching up for a hug. Annie smiles at her, and gives her the usual discourse about behaving herself in class and listening to the teacher when she notices Ariana is looking at her a little curiously. "What's wrong?"
"Mommy?" she asks, genuinely confused, "Why do you smell like chocolate ice cream?"
.