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Pale Gold

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Even after all this time he can't explain it, why he can throw her across a room when they're sparring (or could, in theory, if she didn't always end up throwing him first) but can barely keep his hands from shaking now, as if she'd crumble to dust under his touch.

Mikasa lies on her stomach on the bed, her skin glowing pale gold in the flickering lamplight, her thick, dark hair fanning out on the mattress. Shadows dance across every line and curve of her lean, strong body, but she has turned her head away from the light, her face hidden by dark hair and darker shadows. Silent, waiting for him.

He watches her for a short while, the gentle rise and fall of her back and shoulders as she breathes, slow and steady. Finally, he kneels at her side, puts his hands on her shoulders and feels it; presses her down into the mattress, a little harder than he'd like, just to make sure his hands are steady.

Mikasa works her muscles against him gently, as if to encourage him. And the urge to tremble fades.

He brushes the hair from her neck and bends down to kiss it - and she trembles, ever so slightly, ever so briefly, at the touch.

"Here," she whispers, and takes his hand, pulls it up to her face. He can barely see what she does, but the wet heat of her lips and tongue are unmistakable.

He can't mistake what she wants from him, either, as she pulls his finger from her mouth with a smack and steers his hand down. Digs her knees into the mattress and raises her hips, arching her back - the sight leaves his mouth dry - and slides his moistened finger down the shadowed cleft between her buttocks.

"Here," she repeats, a little more insistent. He groans, lips still pressed against her neck. The tip of his finger slides over the tiny opening down there, and she doesn't let go of his hand before he starts to massage her, the thin sheen of saliva letting his skin glide against hers.

Mikasa's hand settles on his hip and she crawls her fingers in front.

He groans again when she curls them around his cock. He's hard, achingly hard. The sight of her naked on the bed does that, and he can scarcely remember a time when it didn't.

Mikasa's hands are rough and strong, but her touch is gentle, maddeningly gentle, barely even a grip. He has to fight the urge to wrap his hand around hers, make her grip him, but he'll have enough trouble lasting long enough later, without getting all fired up now.

It's still difficult. Fired up is probably what he's best at. But he can put it off, for her.

He pushes his finger inside her, just the tip. She pushes back, welcomes the intrusion. It's still not easy. He pulls back - she makes a little noise of protest - and spits in his hand; smears it on her skin and tries again. This time it works. Mikasa purrs and his finger slips inside her to the first knuckle.

"Yes." She hisses the word and even though he can't see, he knows her expression; eyes closed, lips pulled back, teeth clenched and bared.

He turns his hand back and forth, tries to loosen her up, before trying a second finger.

Again she pushes back, and his fingers, spit-slick, sink inside her, side by side. Again she shudders at the sensation, as though it sent a ripple through her entire body. She's not even moving her hand now, but his cock twitches at the sight, and he feels her fingers move where they lie loosely draped around his shaft.

Then she moves - slowly, careful not to pull herself off his fingers; eases herself over on her side and curls down towards him. He catches a glimpse of pale-gold skin and dark eyes and pink lips parting as she takes him into her mouth. He groans, shudders just like she did, fingers curling inside her. But she's not aiming to get him off, that would defeat the point. So the sensation is hot, wet, and brief, and he catches a small smile when she turns back, hips rising once more.

Now, she doesn't need to say.

He turns his hand back and forth, tries to relax the muscles gripping them. It's still going to be a tight fit. It always is. He could have brought oil, but she likes it this way.

Running his other hand up her back, tracing her spine with his middle fingers, splaying the others so he can touch as much of her as possible, he swings a leg over her thighs, sinks down over them and sits for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her smooth, strong legs against his inner thighs, but he needs to hurry. Positions his cock below his fingers, pulls them out and quickly pushes his hips forward.

Mikasa groans and shudders, but she still pushes back.

Slowly, her body gives in, and he sinks into her with a brief moment of breathtaking friction that leaves him panting. He has both hands on her buttocks now, kneading the firm, toned mounds, and she pushed them against him, silently encouraging.

He still takes one hand off her when he's ready to move, the left, and eases it around her hip, in underneath her.

She expects it, and the only reaction when he brushes her sex is a hard clenching around his cock.

It is more than enough.

He begins to move. Cock pulling slowly back, until he feels he's about to slip out. Fingers slowly caressing the lips of her sex, one on each side, easily gliding on slickened skin.

Pushes in again, gritting his teeth at the way she tightens around him, even though he can tell she's trying to relax and let him move. Two fingers spread her outer lips; one slips between them, teasing the inner. Mikasa's shoulders tremble. She digs her fingers into the mattress and pushes back, harder this time.

He dribbles more spit on his cock as he meets her movements. Keeps stroking her, steering his fingers clear of the stiff little pearl on top - it is too early for that, but she will be ready soon.

Mikasa uses her grip on the bed to rock back harder. Beads of sweat glitter on her skin in the faint light, trickle down her arms and back, leaving glistening trails behind. Without breaking his rhythm, he bends over her and kisses one glimmering droplet from the slope of her shoulder, and Mikasa whimpers, clenching down on his cock, twitching under his fingers. He moves them a little faster, applies a little more pressure. She hums in appreciation, almost a little chuckle, and begins to roll her hips.

He's glad he can't see what she's doing. Bites his tongue, tries to think about unsexy things, like the schematics for the manoeuvring gear, but his body is no match for Mikasa's, here or in the sparring ring.

"Turn over," he whimpers, and she pauses.


"Wanna... look at you," he manages, his body rigid, afraid that if he moves at all, it'll be over. Mikasa hms again and remains still just long enough to let him know she sees through him - even if it's not really an excuse, even if he does want to see her.

Carefully, they manage to get her turned over on her side, then back, without having to part. The sensation almost gets the better of him, even with the brief respite.

It's not about to get better. She brushes her hair out of her face and looks up with deep, dark eyes, lips slightly parted. Even in this light. Her breasts rise and fall as she breathes; small, dark nipples hard.

He bends down and kisses her lips, then her breasts, teasing those dark buds with tongue and teeth. At the same time, he sneaks his hand in between them again, slides it down her stomach, fingers splayed, tracing the outlines of hard, flat muscles.

Mikasa breathes a little faster when he reaches the spot he was stroking before; the breath hitches in her throat when he starts again. A single finger this time, right above her clit, gently tugging at its hood, letting is slide back and forth like the skin on his cock. Rocks his hips slowly, even slower than before; still almost comes again when she arches under him, twitching under his fingers and around his cock; she wraps her arms and legs tightly around him and rocks back unsteadily.

Smiling, lips still holding a nipple between them, he moves his fingers a little faster. Trapped between them, his hand's movements are limited, but he doesn't need more than to shift his finger just a little.

Mikasa lets out a strangled, high-pitched noise when he lets it brush against her clit through the hood; her fingers dig into his back almost painfully. He moves his hips faster, his movements as unsteady as hers, his body tingling, spots dancing before his eyes. The friction is unbearable. He trembles where lies in her arms; his hand between them shakes. Mikasa arches up, nearly lifting them both off the bed and tosses her head back, dark, sweat-dampened hair whipping the pillow, and holds her breath while her body trembles and ripples underneath him.

Even if he hadn't been close already, the sensation of Mikasa pressed against him, lost in her pleasure, would have been impossible to endure. Burying his face between her breasts, he keeps his fingers and hips moving as long as he can, even as he, too, ripples and trembles, cock twitching and spurting inside her tight heat, his vision fading to bright white.

Even when they both lie still, panting, her grip on him does not loosen. Blinking, trying to clear the spots from his eyes, he raises his head and finds her looking down at him, turned just at the right angle to let the flickering lamp illuminate most of her face.

"Hi," she says, and smiles with her eyes.

He kisses her, and doesn't know when he'll stop.