FicWad

a/n: Tremendous thank you to nanisketches for cooking up some really sweet fanart. Really, I can't put into words how honored I am right now, just, thank you. "Those curious among you can find it here":http://nanisketchs.tumblr.com/post/136467171467/look-up.

With the business of their schedules and general periods of recuperation between Titan ventures, Eren had not yet seen Annie, or her new lodgings, for several days after the incident at the river, and likewise, she had not seen him. He had thought, occasionally, about seeking her out again, but there had never been a good time for the scheme to come to fruition.

Over the past few days the two of them had actually worked out a way of communication. It was risky, but effective, and relied, for the most part, on an inordinate amount of luck and forbearance. The gist of it was this; though the two of them might be under strict supervision in excursions and the like, they could not be watched all hours. There were less soldiers present now, with the recent deportment of Mikasa and the others to the capital city, and because of this, fewer people altogether. Thus, it was much easier to sneak away.

It was a quiet affair, the act of meeting each other. The location was of no concern, their reunion would be mere minutes; he would not have had it any other way.

A glance around and they found each other. She moved towards him and it occurred to Eren that it was his turn to lead the way. His heart picked up a little at the idea; he was intensely aware of the prickling on his neck as he walked, and she followed him to some uninhabited corner. He stopped and knelt on the pretence of checking his boot, and with a hasty sweep of their surroundings, found no one close by. He got to his feet and turned to her, had to stoop somewhat.

"You wanted a word?" he said quietly.

"I'm three cells down and to the left from your old room," said Annie. Her hand found his but did not clasp tighter. Something small and metallic slipped into his palm. "And relax. You'll give yourself away." And with that, she was gone. When he opened his fingers he saw that she'd given him a key.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. Finding Annie was relatively seamless; all he had to do was keep his head down. The few guards he did run across would most likely figure he was merely returning to his room. The key, he discovered, was to a cell, presumably hers. She was alone and he almost felt intrusive.

"You can come in," she said without looking up. He did so, closed the door behind him and took in his surroundings.

The room was about the size of his cell, but slightly more capacious. An old wood dresser stood to the far left with a cracked mirror en suite. A few chairs were pushed back along the walls, and a glass vase sat on the end-table, empty and forlorn. There was a small bed laid with thin sheets. A collection of furniture and debris was pushed to the other side of the room, collecting dust. The only real source of light came from the barred window above.

"The door locks," said Annie quietly. "We'll be fine."

Eren let go of the handle and looked at her, unsure where to begin.

“So,” he said, tentatively. “How are things with you?”

"I'm all right. Could be worse."

"You look tired," he noted. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dimness of the cell.

She shrugged. "Something bothering you?"

"What makes you think that?" Eren asked.

"You keep looking at the door."

This was not untrue, but the thought had only just occurred to him: How do we know the guards don't have spare keys to our cells?

Annie was quiet, assessing him, then she turned away. "Is it true they moved your quarters down a few blocks?" she asked, and Eren was grateful for the change of topic.

"Er, yes. They did. Used to keep me underneath the castle back when I first joined the Scouts. In the wine cellar, to be more precise." She didn't say anything to this, so he went on. "Well, it would hardly have been good if I Shifted and killed half the castle. I guess Captain Levi would have had a good reason to kill me."

"Sounds harsh."

"It wasn't that terrible." There was another pause. "At any rate, I like what you've done with the place," Eren said.

Annie rolled her eyes. "Very funny. I found half these things in that pile of rubbish." She motioned towards the collection of detritus. "I'd offer to loan you some but there's really no way to get it out of here without being noticed." She sighed. "Don't know why I bothered touching it, really. None of it is particularly useful."

He walked over to the table to check the vase, found it dry.

"You salvaged this?" he asked. Annie turned to look.

"I'll probably find a use for it," she said.

He met her eyes, and the weight on his chest lifted a little when she approached and leant up on her toes, arms settling around his neck. The kiss was brief, warm like a welcome.

"You look surprised to see me," she murmured.

"I'm not," he replied, even though he was, "I just don't…."

"What?"

He noticed, in their closer proximity, that her body was riddled with gooseflesh. Her hair clung to her face, smooth, a shade darker with saturation. She smelled faintly of iron and soap. "You're clean," he said, somewhat awkwardly.

Annie remained unfazed. "There's a well east of the courtyard. I can get water in the evenings. Washed up before you came here." He found it difficult to meet her eyes.

"There was nothing for me to take leave of, exactly," Eren told her, unsure what else to say, and feeling she ought to know this, above all else.

"Good. I won't be missed, either," she said calmly.

"We're only two of the most dangerous soldiers on this estate," he said, laughing a little. "Of course we won't be missed."

The corner of her mouth twitched but she remained familiarly cynical, and the challenge was all in her eyes as she backed up 'til she was nearly sitting on the aged dresser. He was the first to kiss her and she melded into him, her tongue swept his lip and he permitted her further access, one arm lowered to clasp her to him. Annie broke away, head tipped, mouth trailing along his naked throat, and he huffed; she barely had to move to kiss him. It was ridiculous, but also somewhat amusing, how she could burrow so easily into the shape of him.

At some point he had a hand halfway up her undershirt—marvelling at the heat of her skin—Annie leant back to pull the fabric over her head; a little cumbersome, as she was still damp, but the feat was managed, nonetheless. He took her in with a hushed interest.

"You've seen me before," said Annie with a trace of amusement.

"And you're something to see," he replied. She wished he wouldn't say things like that. Eren seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he went pink, didn't talk further.

Annie sighed after a moment, said, "Eren," and when he looked to her she kissed him without another word. He slid a hand up her back and her skin was smooth and warm; he felt warmer. He sank down, she took a seat up upon the dresser while his mouth trailed over her throat and collarbone, and she shivered when he ran his tongue over a nipple, cautious but curious, hissed when he took it between his teeth.

"That all right?" he muttered, and while Annie was more than pleased to see he was taking matters into his own hands, he needed a little direction. This was not necessarily inconceivable—not in the slightest, for how could either of them be expected to know what the other wanted without a little guidance—though Annie could now appreciate what Eren had meant in the course of an earlier instance when he'd mentioned her 'having teeth'.

"You're learning," she teased, hand in his hair, breath heavier.

Eren huffed against her skin. "If that's what you want to call it." His other hand swept up her abdomen to cup her similarly, working absent patterns with his thumb and it had her aching.

"I think we could explore this in more detail another time," she said. "Let me up?"

She slid out of his loose grasp, got to her feet again, shoving down her trousers. He ignored the rush of heat in his cheeks and in his gut, watching her step out of the fabric pooling at her feet with a pang of longing. She raised her head, tucked a straying bang behind her ear, turned around and leant back into him. She heard him exhale softly, fingers ghosting her hips, her waist, then he paused as if waiting for something.

"Go on," she said quietly.

And his hands were over her skin and his mouth trailed from her cheek to the side of her throat and lingered on the curve of her shoulder for a moment. And he continued down, nose brushing her spine, her back, hands following, and she smiled, eyes flitting to the girl in the dusty glass. Eren crouched behind her on the pads of his feet, holding her waist, and quietly asked if she would turn around. She did so, slowly, and he held her in place, looked to her once. (She was reminded eerily of another time, their roles reversed. Not trusting herself to speak, she only nodded.) He wrapped his arm around her waist and his forehead met her navel before he pressed his head into her lap. Annie froze when he kissed her, not because she hadn't anticipated it, but because she hadn't really expected it to be so warm. She redistributed her weight against the dresser and her legs were taut, trembling.

Maybe the idea of this was kind of gross, Eren thought, but this really wasn't so terrible. He hadn't really put much thought to it beforehand—a small diversion from the present—but now that he dwelt upon the matter he realised that she tasted like…well, nothing, actually. Just sweat and warmth, and something foreign, slick and insubstantial on his tongue. His nose bumped the dip between thigh and pelvis as he tipped his head, cradling her hips, nudged her leg so he could have more space. She obliged him with a low sigh, content to watch and not guide him; likewise, Eren engaged himself with further exploration, on his knees with his head craned and his breath muffled against her skin when he remembered something. He found the jump of her pulse and caught it under his tongue and she trembled; he focused on this, listening to her breath turn ragged and then Annie stifled a desperate noise that sounded like his name; Eren was just wondering if she would come if he kept on with this when she pushed his head away.

"What?" he said thickly, wiped his mouth hastily on his sleeve, light-headed again.

"I'm fine, Eren," she said, almost trembling with anticipation, yet her voice was hushed, steady. "Come here."

He stood up and her legs hooked around his waist. Eren was silent above her, flushed and wary and by now uncomfortably hard in his pants. He gave a start when she took his face in her hands, eyes narrowed, brushed her thumb over the tip of his nose.

"You had some of it on you," she muttered, and her cheeks went pink as she spoke, but her voice was steady.

He looked somewhat sheepish. She closed the space between them, humming against his mouth, thumbs in his belt loops, drawing him in. He broke off, let her do as she saw fit. The tension was raw, nearly unbearable; he actually sighed when she pulled him out, let him press against her stomach, gooseflesh prickling on his skin. Her implementation was different, always a little different, and she was not hesitant in the way she touched him, only tentative, perhaps for his sake.

"Better?" she enquired, and he shuddered, nodding weakly.

She cupped his chin, coaxed him down into another kiss, gave him a few easy strokes and he was aware, suddenly, of how her hands were cool, not cold—there was a difference—and how his knees were pressed into the wood and he had an arm beside her head, rocking anxiously into her palm. The sensation became a paradox of sorts, too much and too little—he grabbed her wrist, feeling distinctly vulnerable. They shared a glance; Annie looked away first, scooted back to permit him closer. He pressed her back to the mirror, a hand beside her head but he didn't get a chance to do much, because she sat up, hands on his chest.

"Not this way," she muttered, pushing him back so she could stand, twisting around to rest on her hands. "My back's all stiff."

"You want my shirt?" he asked, thinking about what a stupid question it was, but she was still cold to him—at least, cooler than he was.

"What am I supposed to do with your shirt," Annie muttered. "Are we doing this or not."

This was obviously not up for debate, but he was in the same camp, anyway. He sighed, kissed the top of her head, draped an arm under her belly. "Never mind," he told her, hauled her up while he slipped his other hand up her thigh, just to be sure, parted her legs with his knee, traced her with his thumb, opened her up and she groaned softly, pressing absently into the touch but it wasn't enough; exasperated, she grabbed his wrist, so he took his hand away, angled himself proper.

"Might come as a surprise," Eren muttered, hands on her hip and around himself, "but I'm not used to this." Annie actually turned her head to stare blankly at him. "The position," he clarified, feeling awkward. "You know." He pressed up; she pushed back harder and he sank in almost too easily.

Annie bit her lip to quiet herself, spine arching all the same. "It can't be that compli—" She cut off with a groan when he pushed forward, dragging her up against him and her hand clawed against the dresser and Eren knew, then, that she must feel the same exigency, the same relief.

"Steady," he told her, advancing gradually. "I don't—" He pushed in a little deeper without meaning to and heard her gasp, had to catch his breath, head spinning. "—don't want to hurt you, or…."

She shuddered at the burn of it. "You won't hurt me," she reassured him.

Eren released her waist, let her sink down with her hands on the dresser, gathering her to him. This was easier, but now he couldn't see her face, just her shoulders, and her hair, still tied up but coming loose, the contours of her back and spine and the swell of her hips, draped in shadow where he covered her. The light filtering from outside cast everything in harsh white, the gleam of sun on water and glinting steel—he thought of fire, then of her eyes, her skin, took the moment to cup her cheek, nose brushing her jaw.

"Hey," he said quietly. She tilted her head towards him, one pale eye affixed on his face in the empty light, hair obscuring her face in a curtain of wheat-gold, colour gracing her cheeks. He kissed the corner of her mouth, felt her smile. "I want to see you," he admitted, and she felt something spark off in her belly, ignited.

"Look up," she told him.

Eren saw the dusty mirror first, cracked and imperfect, the warped reflection of the room and her frame shifting back into place underneath him, head ducked, shoulders squared, braced on her elbows. He met his own gaze, green and hazy, let his free hand drift up briefly, cupping her breast, then receded with a hand on her waist and the surface of the dresser, and she pushed up against him in turn. It was not as difficult to gauge her reactions like this, but he didn't trust himself to jump into things just yet, nor her arms to keep her steady because she was top-heavy with him (what if she slipped?). He squeezed his eyes shut if only to take in the feeling of her, focus, readjust; it was overwhelming, the warmth of her—but she, restless under his hands, only stilled, muttered: "Is that it?"

He smirked, clasped her to him, tested his weight before he ground up quickly to catch her off guard, stole a kiss just under her ear. Annie gasped, firstly out of surprise and a little pleasure, then plain surprise when her hand slipped and her head smacked into the glass, rattling the frame, and that more or less killed the mood. Eren swore frantically, tried to get away but she had her leg hooked around his and wouldn't let him go.

"I'm so sorry—are you all right?"

"No," she grunted. "Shit, I mean—yes, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

She exhaled, half-amused by his concern, half-warmed. "I'm sure."

There was a pause while he reoriented himself gingerly, hefted her up once more. Her breath fogged up the glass and the water left an imprint of her forehead, the tip of her nose.

"You're a little cold," he murmured, almost fever-hot, hand slipping up her side.

"Mm?"

"Your body. S'cold."

"Yes, I'm naked," she hissed impatiently, not as content to ease into his slower rhythm, nor to explain things in the midst of this.

He eased back, wondered if he should just roll her over before something preventable happened again. "I'll be careful," he told her dazedly, watched the little beads of water travel over her skin in small, scattered rivulets. She incited him with a roll of her hips; he picked up from there.

And this was all right, she mused, but there was still something missing, and her hand drifted down to follow through on that thought. "Slow down a little," she said roughly, and he grunted against her skin, complied. She took up a pace with her fingers, the flat of her palm and it wasn't perfect—her supporting arm was kind of stiff and the edge of the dresser dug into her stomach and hips with their rhythm, rough and unfocused, yet inimitable—Eren was kind enough to haul her up, off her hands and on her toes again, giving her time to adjust.

"Better?" he panted, an echo, and Annie chuckled breathlessly.

"Don't remember asking you to stop, Jaeger."

He readjusted his grip on her waist, sighed against the crown of her head. "I like it when you use my name."

She blushed, for once grateful he could not see. And he started again, gentler but urgent, and she strove to match his pace but it was noticeably awkward with her hand clamped between her legs. He slowed down, nuzzling her jaw. "Ann?" he rasped, and she ground into her palm out of desperation. Eren seemed to become aware her predicament, because he stopped, muttered: "Hold on," and she groaned in frustration when he left her; the world turned asunder, then she was back against the dresser and they were nose-to-nose, chest-to-chest, and his hands were open on her waist. She exhausted no time, perched up, drew him in with her legs, ankles. With a little guidance he was moving, and before she could react he pulled her up off the dresser with him. Her limbs coiled around him like reflex and suddenly it was easy, easier than anything to guide her; she half-gasped, half-moaned when she sank down onto him, and he let her settle, at least 'til she grunted and her hair scraped his chin as she pressed an agitated kiss to the base of his throat.

"Move," she growled, and there was a need in her voice she'd not bothered to mask, "'else I will."

Eren leant back so her thighs edged against his stomach, felt her hands race up for something to hold on to, grasping his hair and at the scruff of his collar. He eased out, pushed in impulsively and heard her gasp, legs squeezing his waist and he could not help but think: this was what they'd been missing.

"Annie," he said hoarsely, pulling back again, and she looked at him. He began to say something else but she kissed him before he could finish, hard enough their teeth clicked, and she cursed, but held his gaze with fire in her eyes and a breathless determination until he rocked up more resolutely and she lost her composure. Now he was grinning and Annie wanted to kick him, or maybe pin him against the wall and let him finish what he'd started; the latter sounded far more promising. She pushed her heels into his back and he thrust up again, had her clinging on for dear life even though she didn't have to. She was sweat-slick and panting but mostly she was too hot. She grabbed his face and found him dishevelled, flushed and dazed, teeth grit in concentration, but the second he caught her eye he was jubilant, familiar, kissing her warmly.

Eren stepped back and his heel hit something solid—this, he supposed, must be the wall, but he did not think on it for very long—felt Annie tremble, a coil of nerves and limbs and heat in his arms. He let her take over, leaning back more completely into the stone at his back. Annie shifted forward with a quiet grunt, hands at his shoulders, figuring the logistics of their position. She shivered, unprotesting when he took hold of her hips and picked her up again, and maybe this wasn't going to be as quick-paced as he'd thought, maybe it was best to take things slower. "I won't drop you," he reassured her, somewhat needlessly.

She stole a shrewd glance at him, sank down of her own accord, eyes fluttering, lips parted slightly, sighed when he thrust up in turn. He fell back while she came forward, supporting herself carefully. It was impulse that drove him to thrust up again; Annie yelped, clutching at his back and he caught his breath, wondered, briefly, if he'd hurt her before she kissed him franticly, all tongue and teeth and fervour and he was breathless when he broke contact, head bumping the wall.

She was close. Closer now, and the heat of it licked at her skin and she felt strangely weightless in his arms and when she raised herself once more and he met her, nose at her clavicle, lips warm and chapped against her heated skin. "Eren," she sighed, and he could practically feel the smile, lax on her mouth. Her voice was raw with emotion. It had his pulse racing and his mind caught between diminishing concern and the desire to hear her say his name again.

"Yes," he murmured feverishly. He was on fire, wanted her to feel it, too. "Yes, m’here." He felt her flutter around him, swallowed a noise.

"C'mere," she entreated, cupping his cheek, "I want to see you—"

He could make out her face and her eyes flickered to fix on him, ice swallowed up by the ink of her pupils and he grappled for her waist, pushed up harder. And Annie groaned like he'd done the very thing she had been waiting for, kissed him once more, long and sweet, and her tongue slipped over his; when she pulled away she had a little spit trailing on her chin but he was too wrapped up in her to care as she curled into him, taut on the periphery of release. Eren found himself noting vaguely how Annie leant back in his arms, ruffled his hair affectionately before she braced herself on his shoulders again and leant forward, growing confident; now she moved like she was riding him and the thought was sort of exhilarating.

She let him instigate the kiss this time—unfocussed and haphazard, less of a kiss and more like he was crushing his mouth against hers, but real—and she thought about his mouth and what he could have done before and what he could be doing with it. And she buried her face in his shoulder, nails biting into his skin through his shirt, legs drawn tight around his waist again.

And Eren stopped thinking for a moment because his own legs were trembling and his mind was hazy and he was dizzyingly close—and here she was trembling in his arms. "A-Ann—" he huffed, squeezing her hips, ready to set her down but she clutched him tighter, arching against him. "Shit—Annie, I—"

Her turn to kiss him, quick and ardent, yet strangely chaste. She broke away, unwound and shuddering and God, with the way she smiled at him now, Eren nearly lost it; he wouldn't forget the look on her face, not for days, hell, weeks, even. "I know," she whispered, eyes dark with acknowledgement. His expression twisted for a split-second between arousal and confusion, disconcertion, then crumpled, and he hid his face in the curve of her throat and gave up trying to pretend anymore, turned around and all but slammed her against the wall with a rough noise that was not quite a hiss, closer to a growl and she'd forgotten how cold the stone was. And she gasped when he pulled out, let her legs slide down back to earth with his arm snaking between them—felt him poke her thigh, drawing her flush to him and now he pressed against her stomach and she figured, what the hell. He rasped when she got her hand around him and he was done shortly thereafter, arms curled beside her head and around her waist, head bowed beside hers, pinning her against the wall and she let him get his bearings.

When he felt he could move again, he stood up, kissed her cheek all the same, snuck his hand up her thigh without pause and she regarded him.

"You don't have to do this," she said, voice low, still graced with longing.

"I know."

She snapped her legs shut when Eren tried to pull away; never mind his knowing grin. "Well, don't stop now," she told him.

"Wasn't going to," he told her, and she trembled at that.

So he humoured her; at the touch her body stiffened, still sensitive, moving lazily to meet his fingers. She gave a soft grunt when he tested her, hissed when he applied more pressure. "You—fuck, not so hard," she instructed. "It's more than—" She ducked her head, intent on showing him what she meant.

"More'n what?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Annie made up her mind, then, grabbed his wrist, manoeuvring his hand purposely against her, slouching back, legs open to give him room. "Just follow my lead," she muttered.

She coaxed his thumb against her skin in small, steady circles, noting calluses and the absence of friction—this was the plan, but in reality her pace was erratic and her breath was uncatchable and this was just too real. Annie shut her eyes and made things worse—or perhaps better, because in the dark there was nothing but the sense of things, and release was too quick to rise and claim her—she opened her eyes again.

Eren gathered her to him without another word, and she was tense and warm around his fingers and his cock jumped at the memory. "For fus'sake, Jaeger," she growled, now shuddering despite her best efforts, "I can—feel that."

"Can you?" he asked, trying to sound only slightly interested as opposed to…he wasn't sure if there was a word for the emotion he was experiencing right now, someplace between mortification and inquisitiveness.

"Of course I can," she hissed, squirming in his grasp, moving back to slump back against the wall, panting. “I—a-ah—”

“Wouldn’t try speaking now,” he muttered, kissing her cheek absently. “Kind of busy.”

Annie grumbled something incoherent under her breath. If he was feverish she was scorching, frantic; her grip was like iron around his wrist. It could not be much longer. It was not long at all; he felt her come with a little jerk, unwinding in his arms.

And her head bumped the wall as she gasped but her breath only eluded her, left her spinning without focus and he was still right there and fuck, she couldn’t—

He was kind enough to let her catch her breath, and when she’d stopped trembling, he asked, "Too much?" and she grunted softly like a protest. In due course he let her go and her legs were weaker than she'd anticipated. She leant back against the wall. There was a pause while he tucked himself back in, wiped his hand on his trousers, noticed her attention was still holding on him. She extended an arm, bid him closer. He raised his eyebrows, but the most she did was embrace him. He obliged her, somewhat ruefully.

"You aren’t cold," he told her.

"Mm," she said, and curled up against him. When he pulled back she held his gaze, steadfast. He cupped her face, pressed a gentler kiss to her mouth and she huffed, but did not protest.

"Sorry," he confessed. "I've just…really wanted to do that for a while."

"I could tell."

He felt his face grow warm again. "I was referring to the kiss, but…yes. That, as well." He wished he'd taken his shirt off; it was sweltering. "How d'you feel?" he asked her.

"Not bad," she replied, "Yourself?"

He felt the grin splitting his face. "Great. Really great."

Another pause.

"So, is it safe to say you were right?" Annie muttered.

He glanced down at her. "About what?"

"About how persuasive I am," she joked.

He snorted. She could feel him stifling his laughter against her skin. "Oh, come on," he groaned.

She ruffled his hair. "I'm not letting that one go."

Eren leant up, still grinning, and pulled her into a proper kiss.