Lost

Question

It's within the italic font where spoilers are, so BEWARE. Luckily, you can avoid it when that font ends and still have an idea of what's going on. Because let's face it, you're here for the good stuff. That's the point of this ;)
This took a long while to make and was a struggle trying to keep everyone in character. Enjoy!

Fire hot enough to smelt iron burns beneath Annie's skin.

His coat emblazoned with the Wings of Freedom lays on the floor and Armin hovers over her, working on his pants while Annie frantically works to get his shirt unbuttoned. She rips off that stupid bolo tie he wears for formalities and opens his shirt, running her hands along trenches of lean and more defined muscles. Armin tosses his pants to the side, leaving him in his undergarments and he leans down, lips brushing over her jawline as she lays on the bed. One of his hands slips up the hem of her prison nightie, traveling up to her chest. He sucks her neck and Annie gasps when his fingers graze her nipple.

Armin slides a soft yet stern hand over her mouth. "Don't be too loud." He whispers teasingly. "The patrols might hear you."

Annie twists her head to the side, growling out an irritated, "Tch" under her breath.

She's annoyed and Armin isn't sure if it's aimed solely on him or if it's because he stopped attending to her; either way, he smiles. He hasn't smiled this genuinely in so long and as quick as his happiness comes, a bitter sadness creeps in. His eyes run over her body, hoping that Annie is at least enjoying herself, but she never made it too easy to tell, especially when her sight keeps fleeing from his.

He returns to her neck, closing his lips over bitten, flushed skin, rubbing her nipple between a forefinger and thumb. Annie sucks in a rattled breath, presses her chest against his to touch his hot skin, but she curses; her flimsy prison gown is getting in the way. She shoves Armin away and he complies, leaning back on his legs while she arches her back and shucks off her nightgown.

Armin gulps thickly. Time has finally affected her, somehow curving Annie's hips more, her torso almost the perfect shape of an hourglass, and legs sculpted with muscle presented to him as lither and more mature. She waits for his move, laying still like the perfect marble statue she is, and Armin's hands tremble, finding that he's afraid he'll blemish her flawless design.

Annie huffs impatiently and grabs his hands, yanking them forward to press them onto her bare breasts and Armin's flush burns up past his ears. She's warm and though her size looks the same, Armin notices her breasts have a slighter greatness in heft. He savors that feeling in his hands, massaging her in slow, strong kneads, a nipple slipping between his fore and middle finger and a sharp sigh shudders out of Annie, morphing into a cry after he pinches her buds. He kisses the peak of her right nipple apologetically, licks down her mounds and sucks at their base, moves to press his knee between her legs and Annie snarls. She's aggravated, fighting a hot cramp pulsing between her legs, and he's not helping.

Annie punches his chest hard enough that he oomphs. "Stop going so damn slow." She scolds him through pants.

One of her hands grab his head and shoves him into her chest, the other traveling over the small dunes of his abs towards his underwear. Armin winces at her touch, gasps when she cups his half-erect pole through the cloth. He wants her skin to edge him closer, whines and jerks his hips into her hand to tell her so, but Annie denies him with a sharp squeeze that makes him grunt and slam his forehead onto her sternum.

"Hurry up or I'll make you pay." She threatens huskily into his ear.

The soldier shudders more from excitement than fear, but he obeys.