Annie Leonhardt x Reader

Cold Hands, Cold Heart - Part 2

WARNING: NSFW!

written by: tsukidrama

Silence fills the room much as the cold does. It hangs low to the ground, sweeping along the wooden flooring to wisp at the edges of the blankets covering your bodies. The rippling fabric of the curtain scatters the moonlight across the bunk bed beside you, though the one you lie in remains shrouded in the shadows.

A few fine strands of Annie's hair catch the moon's reflection, and thin white-gold streaks shimmer through her hair like the tails of comets. In her eyes shine swirling plumes like space dust littering the cosmos, shades of blue mixing and twisting into an icy blue void. Her fingertips ghost down your neck, and though her touch is gentle, you'll feel the impressions long after they've left.

She shifts so that she lies on her back, and her hand runs over your collarbone to grip your shoulder. You readjust and stretch your arm around her waist, only to have your hand deflected by Annie's. You give her a look, which she avoids to wrap her fingers around your wrist and tug your arm softly.

Annie doesn't speak, but she doesn't need to when she guides your hand beneath her nightshirt.

You inhale sharply as your hand presses flatly against her stomach, your fingertips grazing a jutting hip bone. In surprise, you try to yank your hand away, but Annie's grip tightens on your wrist. Your gaze meets hers nervously, and you feel your fingers involuntary begin to shake as they brush against her skin.

Hard abs flex against your touch as your fingers slowly wander up. Annie releases your wrist to yank up her shirt, exposing one breast at a time. You exhale nervously, glancing downwards at them. Only once before had she let you see this much of her – while you had snuck out behind the dormitories late one night, and things got hot and heavy. You had been even more flustered back then, and nearly too caught up in your excitement and self-consciousness to fully take them in. Not the way you wanted to. That night, you let your hands do most of the exploring, and you had every intention to do the same now.

You push the fabric of her shirt up to her shoulders, and she raises her arms above her head to free herself from the garment entirely. It falls out of sight to the floor, and you take in the sight of her bare shoulders and sharp collarbone, and the way the light casts across them.

She looks delicate and small, though you know full well that she is not. She reminds you of this strength when her fingers tighten into the fabric of your shirt, the same military issue nightwear she had just stripped away, and uses it as leverage to yank your body against hers. The motion jump-starts you into action, and your hands wander to rove over her skin.

Her hips narrow and her waist dips inward as your hands skate up her sides, and your fingers travel over soft, chilled, yet pliable skin. The softness contrasts the hard layer of muscle beneath its surface, which ripples as she squirms beneath you. Your fingers graze over the slight depression between her bottom few ribs.

Annie's breath hitches as your fingers reach the sensitive skin along the underside of her breast. Your thumb rests against the base of her sternum, and your pointer finger traces up around where her breast swells. Another small gasp from Annie, and she tugs your shirt hard.

Slowly, you let your fingers slide up to cup the side of her breast. Your thumb swipes along the other side to hover above a rosy nipple hesitantly.

Annie breathes in with more air than usual, and you could have mistaken the noise for one of protest if it weren't for the longing in her eyes. She looks at you expectantly and nods again.

"You can touch me," she says.

Your hand trembles, but you finally do. Your thumb brushes against the bud of her nipple gently. Annie breathes in, but otherwise doesn't react, so your forefinger joins your thumb to encircle the entire bud. It wrinkles at your touch, and your fingertips drift against the unique texture of the thin-skinned, silky pink skin.