It began with breath.
Hot. Close. Mikasa's.
She stood over Annie, face unreadable, eyes dark with something unnamed. The air around them pulsed—silent and heavy—as Mikasa knelt down, a single gloved hand resting on Annie's bare thigh, firm enough to command, soft enough to burn.
Annie's breath hitched.
Mikasa dragged her fingers higher, along the inside of her thigh, where the skin was hypersensitive. Annie parted her legs before she even realized it, pulse a stuttering mess. Mikasa didn't smile—she never smiled—but her eyes drank in the reaction like victory.
The hand moved again—slow, deliberate—pulling at her waistband, slipping beneath.
Annie choked on a gasp as fingers slid through the slick warmth already gathering there. She felt it: the low ache, the dizzy heat curling inside her. Her hips lifted into the touch on instinct. She wanted more. Needed—
"You're always watching me," Mikasa said, voice low and breathy against her neck. "So why hide now?"
A whimper escaped Annie's throat.
Mikasa's other hand moved up, resting flat between her breasts, pinning her down, holding her still. Her mouth traced the curve of Annie's jaw—down her neck, across the line of her collarbone—teeth grazing just hard enough to make Annie tremble.
And then—
Fingers. Moving. Inside her.
Annie cried out, soft and broken.
Mikasa's breath never left her skin. Her pace was torturously slow, measured, fingers curling with cruel precision. Annie's legs fell wider apart. Her hands gripped at Mikasa's shoulders, desperate, nails biting skin.
She was close—too close—
And then—
---
Annie woke up with a jolt.
Her body arched, skin damp with sweat, thighs pressed tight together. Her hand had moved between her legs in her sleep—wet, needy—and she pulled it away with a sharp breath, face burning red.
She sat up fast, glancing around the dim tent.
No one. Just shadows.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, trying to slow the rush in her chest, but it was no use. The dream clung to her skin like heat. Her underwear was soaked. Her thighs still trembled.
The worst part wasn't the dream.
It was how badly she wanted it to be real.
_ _ _
Annie lay there, blinking into the darkness, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts. She was supposed to be a soldier—tough, disciplined, unfeeling. Yet Mikasa had wormed her way into the deepest parts of her, where she wasn't supposed to feel anything. How could this happen? She couldn't let it.
The memory of Mikasa's touch burned in her mind, and she gritted her teeth, as if trying to will it away. But the more she tried to suppress it, the stronger it became. The heat in her body was undeniable—her pulse quickening, her breath hitching. She hated it. She hated that she could feel her body reacting to Mikasa in such a way. She hated the way Mikasa's gaze made her heart race.
She couldn't allow this to happen. She had a mission. She had a purpose. She was supposed to be doing everything in her power to stay hidden—to stay under the radar as a traitor. She couldn't afford to let Mikasa distract her. Yet every time they crossed paths, she couldn't help the way her body betrayed her.
She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she wrestled with herself. Mikasa was her commander. Mikasa was a threat—a danger—and yet… she wasn't. The touch had been so gentle, so… possessive, and it had stirred something in Annie that she had no right to feel.
What would happen if Mikasa knew? What if she saw through Annie's facade? Her heart raced faster at the thought. She couldn't let her guard down. But she felt the heat between her legs, a lingering memory of a touch she couldn't forget. And the worst part? She didn't want to forget.