Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/878986.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Mikasa_Ackerman/Sasha_Blause
  Character:
      Mikasa_Ackerman, Sasha_Blause
  Additional Tags:
      Dominance, Punishment, Food, Oral_Fixation
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-11 Completed: 2014-04-10 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 6042
****** Oral Fixation ******
by badgerjaw
Summary
     Mikasa and Sasha have an unspoken understanding, that is, until Sasha
     starts pushing the envelope.
***** Bland Stew +2 to Rebellion *****
She props her arm up on the table with the spoon in her steady fingers. The
stew doesn’t even shift in the spoon’s bowl and instead steams invitingly
between Mikasa and Sasha. Mikasa is intent on the spoon as if contemplating its
slightly bland flavor or the glossy brown gravy in which is suspended a chunk
of carrot and a sliver of meat. She is not contemplating the stew at all, but
rather observing Sasha through her peripheral vision.
It’s obvious that Sasha is positively ravenous today. Shadis caught her chewing
on the drawstrings of her uniform and made her run five hours again, which
seemed to be his favorite punishment to give her. Not that running laps would
cure her of that oral fixation Mikasa watched her develop from day one, but all
that running is bound to work up a monstrous appetite, fixation or no.
Sasha merely watches Mikasa closely, not daring to glance at the spoon or the
steam.
“Chew the inside of your lip instead,” Mikasa says.
“Huh?” Sasha blinks and swallows deeply.
“When we’re at attention and doing drills, bite the skin on the inside of your
lower lip. It might help.”
“Oh, maybe….”
Mikasa watches as the smallest area beneath her bottom lip flattens as Sasha
tries out her advice. It’s only a slight difference, one that serves to make
her appear a bit more stern, but who’s to say that today’s laps didn’t strike a
chord with her? Mikasa smiles. “So?”
“Could you tell I was chewing?” she asks.
“Not at all.”
A smile blooms over Sasha’s face for the first time since that morning. “I
think that’ll tide me over just fine then. But since I don’t need to do it
now—“
She reaches for Mikasa’s wrist and leans forward to accept the spoonful of
stew. Face going cold once again, Mikasa pins down the offending hand and
instead devours the morsel herself. Sasha’s expression was delicious. Perhaps
it was wrong to get such pleasure out of her disappointment and broken
expectations, but it was not a pleasure Mikasa could see herself going
peacefully without ever again.
“But I was good!” Sasha pleads. She squirms under her grip, though she wasn’t
trying very hard to free herself… just as Mikasa wasn’t holding as firmly as
she could be. “I did as you said!”
“Hush. You’re making a scene.”
“Are not! They’re bored of our game.”
“Shadis isn’t.”
Sasha’s half-hearted struggles cease and she pouts. “Don’t mention him. Saying
his name summons him like a damn demon.”
“Behave,” Mikasa commands.
“But Mikasa I’m so hungry…” She drags out the syllable nice and long and
clearly delights in the corner of Mikasa’s eye twitching. She has very little
tolerance of whining, disobedience, and disobedient whining. But only Sasha
could see that little tell, that little crack in the wall of control Mikasa is.
The tell that shows her feelings about it are more complex than she’d like to
admit aloud.
“Then behave,” she hisses, her grip on Sasha’s wrist gentle, but the tips of
the fingers clutching the spoon bone-white.
“Or what? Hm? You’ll stop feeding me and bossing me? What a crock threat that’d
be.” Sasha’s eyes glint with amusement and she plays with the drawstring of her
shirt as if to put it in her mouth. But after a moment a part of her lip
disappears between her teeth instead. Mikasa’s grip on her spoon loosens.
“Shadis.”
“I’ve gotten better at running. Bet I could outrun everyone in 104 and I’ll get
better at anything else he tosses me.” The cocky way she says this doesn’t
quite meet her eyes, but Mikasa believes her. Sasha runs like lightning,
leaving little more than an after image burned into retinas.
“Next time there’s a sparring session, I’ll be your partner.”
Sasha’s eyes widen. Mikasa imagines the expression is coupled with an almost
audible dropping of the other girl’s stomach. “What?”
“I’ve never fought you before. I’d like to.”
“B-b-but, I don’t—“
“How easily do you bruise?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll behave.” She straightens up and holds herself with as much
poise as she can muster with her arm still trapped under Mikasa’s hand. Mikasa
studies her face for sincerity. Sasha isn’t a bad fighter in the least, merely
unfocussed most times and caught up in doing things her own way. Admittedly,
that got her out of more scrapes than in, and Mikasa wouldn’t leave a fight
with her without her own black and blue souvenirs. But because of this her
dread rings a little off to Mikasa. Not completely false however. After a long
moment, Mikasa loosens her grip on Sasha’s wrist, her fingers hesitating on
Sasha’s skin as she pulls her hand back.
“Where were we?” Sasha asks, now the very picture of posture.
Mikasa nods and dips her spoon back into the cooling stew. Sasha’s eyes rest
firmly on Mikasa’s, no longer distracted by copious amounts of steam. Again,
Mikasa props her elbow on the table and presents the reward between them with a
steady hand.
“Now, if you behave—“
The bowl is in Sasha’s hand, as cleanly and all at once as if it had teleported
there of its own will. She presses the lip of the bowl to her mouth and sips
the gravy deliberately, without removing her gaze from Mikasa, who watches with
tightening mouth and furrowed brow.
“Sasha!”
The corners of Sasha’s mouth start to curl at her name and some gravy nearly
escapes because of it. She sets the bowl back down and catches it before it can
stain her uniform, but still grins at Mikasa with a look of pure satisfaction
that makes the emotions churn in Mikasa’s stomach. For want of a fork or spoon,
Sasha plucks the lingering vegetables and meat out one by one with her fingers
and Mikasa doesn’t know whether she wants shove the entire bowl down her throat
and watch her choke or pull her over the table and take back what should be HER
job. Instead she stabs the table with her spoon and leaves it standing there.
Sasha merely glances at the spoon and the ruined wood, none of her grin fading.
“Sasha, that is not behaving,” Mikasa says as calmly as she can manage.
“Ah, you spilled your stew.” She pops a bit of potato into her mouth and dabs
at the mess with her napkin.
“Why are you doing this?”
Sasha shrugs absentmindedly. “Why do you treat me the way you do? Why me?”
“You seemed to enjoy it. You kept returning where others would feel I didn’t
like them.” Mikasa averts her eyes and returns the shrug with less conviction.
“Answer my question.”
“I don’t wanna say.” Her smile softens. “What’s my punishment then?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Relief ripples visibly through Sasha’s face and shoulders. “No sparring then?
Perhaps you can let me off this once…?”
“No! That’s unacceptable. Your disobedience can’t go without punishment or
you’ll be a lost cause and I can’t do anything with that.” She clutches her
scarf as she thinks. She didn’t know when there would be another sparring
session and she can’t very well school Sasha over something that happened days
or weeks before. It had to be immediate or led up to with a short period of
anxiousness so she can mull over her wrongdoing. Mikasa needed the control.
“Tonight, an hour after curfew, behind the barracks. I’ll teach you the value
of obedience.”
“Sounds like a tryst.” She looks up through her eyelashes as she says it,
pressing a carrot to her lip.
“It’s not a tryst. I simply don’t want to get in trouble for what I’m going to
do to you.” Mikasa crosses her arms roughly and hopes that the motion distracts
Sasha from the heat in her face. What a betrayal.
“What if I don’t go?”
“I’ll stop feeding you like this,” Mikasa replies. She has no desire to stop,
but she had the conviction to do so if need be. Not at all peacefully, but she
could. “I’ll take your absence as a plea to stop and I’ll stop my food abuses
and leave you to stuff your face in peace.”
“You don‘t have to do that!”
“Then come and try to win.”
“I can’t win against you! I’m pretty sure you can bench-press Reiner.”
“I’ve tried; I can’t.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” Sasha face has fallen, the weight of
the consequences of her disobedience seeming to crash around her like a toppled
building. “I still can’t beat you.”
“I’ll patch you up afterwards, and if you want I can give your wounds a kiss to
help them heal if that’s a thing you still believe in.” Mikasa makes the
addition mostly in jest, but she couldn’t deny that she would if Sasha asked
her to, for the thought of Sasha so vulnerable that she would ask for such a
thing in seriousness tugged at her heartstrings in a warm way.
“But what if I don’t want to fight but I also want you to keep doing this with
me?”
“Think of an alternative.” Mikasa stands and adjusts her scarf. “Maybe it’ll be
more suitable, since I’m not very good at thinking up punishments.”
The drawstring slips between Sasha’s lips as Mikasa leaves her to mull over her
options.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     I apologize for how long this took to complete and also for the tense
     difference compared to Chapter 1.
Curfew came and went with little peculiarity to the others, and went on
cheerfully with the clatter of boots on the floor and brushes on nightstands,
good nights tieied around the barracks, and the rustle of sheets over skin and
pajamas. Beds creaked as occupants get comfortable. The barest of whispers
break through relative silence like the deep boom of cannons. The breaths of
many slowed until it was as much a background noise as the wood of the building
shifting in the cool night.
Mikasa left the comfort of her bed once she could be sure that Ymir was truly
asleep. There’s nothing worse than owing that girl a favor and—quite
frankly—once was enough for Mikasa. She glanced towards Sasha’s form, only to
catch the glint of her eyes in the delicate threads of moonlight just above the
blankets. Without waiting to see if she will follow, Mikasa wrapped her scarf
around her neck and left the barracks.
Behind the barracks stood nothing but the bald face of a cliff and evergreens
at its base. Moonlight spilled into the space between. The cliff made Mikasa
nervous; any sound will reverberate of it and alert others to their little
game. Even her breathing seemed to bounce off of it with ease. There really
wasn’t much to be done about it however. Anywhere else would fall into the
night watch’s view and with the trees nearby, they could find shelter in their
shadows. As quietly as possible, she sat on one of the crates lining the wall
of the building and takes in the terrain while she waited for Sasha.
Not long after, Sasha tiptoed around the corner in a somewhat ridiculous
manner, pulling her knees high with her shoulders hunched. Mikasa watched her
with some amusement as she checks around the corner to be sure no one followed
her out, is hushed with her hand when she opens her mouth to question her.
“Okay, I think we’re good,” Sasha said, her voice cresting barely above a
whisper. “It’s hard to leave tracks on this ground but there is some loose dirt
around here.”
“Is that why you were stepping like that?”
“Sorta.”
“Well, you looked ridiculous.”
“I was tryin’ to make you laugh.” Sasha shrugged. “That was my plan. Get you to
laugh loud enough to attract attention, run for bed, leave you to get in
trouble for violatin’ curfew, and win without a single bruise. It’s how I win
with Connie.”
She patted Sasha’s shoulder lightly. “No luck.”
“Stupid plan.” She shrugged again and smiled as brightly as the moon.
“Maybe. Shall we start the punishment then?” Mikasa stood and lead Sasha
further into the darkness, not missing the way Sasha’s face fell slightly.
“I guess. Oh but we--!”
“Shh.”
“Sorry, but we never said what I would get if I won.”
“Whatever you want, I suppose.”
“Whatever I want, eh?”
“Within reason.” Even in the deepest shadows, Mikasa saw a flicker of
resolution awaken in Sasha, as if there was a sharpening of her faint outline,
and she couldn’t help but smile at the change. She raised her fists. “Tell me
when you’ve had enough.”
Sasha didn’t reply and only matched the stance as well as she could, but she
was tense and unmoving. Something faltered in Mikasa at this, gave a little
shiver of doubt in her chest. Why had this been the idea that came in her head
at the table? Was she really prepared to do something like this over what was
little more than a game? The more she asked herself these questions, the more
her stance crumbled.
She couldn’t hit Sasha. As much as she wanted to tease her and boss her around
at the table, this was not the way to maintain that. There had to be better
ways. Punishments that actually fit the crime of Sasha’s rebellion to their
play.
“Sasha.”
“Come on, Mikasa, let’s get this over with, please.”
“It’s over with. I forfeit.” She fell out of the remainder of her stance. The
same thing that faltered within her before seemed to let out a deep sigh in
time with the relaxation of her body.
Sasha’s arms fell to her sides. “I don’t understand.”
Mikasa ran her hands through her hair and looked away. “I don’t want to spar.
It was a ridiculous idea and I don’t want to hurt you. This was dumb.”
“So I win?” She sidles up next to Mikasa, her smile catching moonlight like a
shallow basin and what overflowed spilled into Mikasa and hardened the doubt
she felt so keenly into certainty.
“Yes, you win,” she said. “By default, but it’s a win nonetheless.”
“I’ll take it!”
“Shh, Sasha!” Mikasa hissed. She clasped her hand over Sasha’s mouth and drew
her tightly against her in the darkness, searching the shadows cast by torches
near and distant for signs of purposeful movement. She felt Sasha’s lips form
an apology against her palm, silent and fluttering, so that her fingers tingled
as she lowered her hand. They were still safe.
Sasha didn’t pull away. “So I can have whatever I want then?”
“I suppose so.”
Their voices seemed loud to her, but she knew they spoke with only their breath
now like the soft rustle of a small creature picking through the dry
undergrowth. Her heart pounded against her ribs, hard enough that maybe Sasha
felt it too through the thin materials of their pajamas. It seemed hard enough
to bruise inwardly. She swallowed and found it difficult.
“Within reason.” Sasha echoed Mikasa’s earlier words as her arms slipped around
Mikasa’s body.
“O-of course.”
In the glint of Sasha’s eyes, Mikasa swore she saw a bit of fear being
swallowed whole by something bigger. “Tell me if I’m being unreasonable,” Sasha
said.
“I wi--”
Sasha’s lips were on hers and what words remained in her mouth became simple
and distant at best, falling apart to make way for the strange, gentle force.
Despite herself, Mikasa stiffened at the suddenness of it. She never before
felt a keener hatred for herself over something so small as when Sasha pulled
away entirely too soon because of it. The feelings mixed in her stomach
violently, painfully, as she imagined the details of Sasha’s expression in the
silence that followed.
Sasha took a breath as if to say something. Mikasa pressed a finger to her
lips. “Again,” she said. “I’m ready this time.”
A little sigh escaped from Sasha as Mikasa’s hand fell away and her arms
tightened around Mikasa’s waist. Her fingertips pressed against her enough that
Mikasa could feel her nails through the cotton as short as they were.
Her lips pressed against hers once again, but this time delicately and with
shaking breath ghosting over their lips. Mikasa clung to her and met Sasha with
rougher kisses that were much shorter. After a moment Sasha giggled at it and
caught Mikasa’s bottom lip with hers to keep her still, the shaking and
nervousness melting away. The churning in Mikasa’s stomach subsided as well,
leaving behind a pleasantly raw feeling in its stead. Her arms wound around
Sasha’s neck, her fingers diving into her hair to free it from the ever-present
ponytail it was always in. Sasha whined a little and bit into Mikasa’s lip hard
enough that she felt the mark long after, so she left it.
Sasha reached up for the scarf as if to remove it. Mikasa rebuffed her by
slapping her hand away.
“But Mikasaaaaa, it’s in the waaaaay,” she whined.
“Scarf for hair tie,” Mikasa answered with a kiss on Sasha’s nose. “It’s a fair
trade I think.”
Sasha shifted from foot to foot with indecision, discontent little noises
drifting from her. After a long tense moment, she tugged on the end of the
scarf and allowed it to unwind from Mikasa’s neck at an agonizing pace, leaving
the soft skin feeling raw from the friction of the worn material. Sasha’s lips
replaced it without hesitation, a low moan startled from the depths of Mikasa.
Mikasa’s hand went back to the hair tie as she clutched Sasha closer. It
slipped out easily and she wore it round her wrist so as not to lose it. The
scarf, however, was lost in the darkness.
“Sasha?” she said. It was difficult to speak.
She sighed softly, albeit with some impatience, and patted the crate next to
them. “Where’s your focus, hmm?”
Mikasa pulled her hair in reply. Sasha gave a groan, her fingers digging into
the small of Mikasa’s back. On a whim, Mikasa drew her tongue up along Sasha’s
full exposed throat, ending with a scrape of teeth and the smallest of tugs.
The older girl whined at it. Her grip loosened and the control was easing back
into Mikasa’s grasp. What a terrible thing; she had barely noticed that she
lost it.
“Where’s yours?” Her hands dove under the hem of Sasha’s night shirt, tracing
the dips and ridges of her spine, her palms reading the shivers that rolled
through her muscles like thunderstorms. She turned them and pressed Sasha
against the wall of the barracks, kissing up her neck and nipping her jaw.
“M-Mikasa…”
Mikasa pulled at Sasha’s night shirt, swallowing deeply to dissuade the
reforming nervousness. “Satisfied with your reward yet?”
“I-I don’t…” Sasha’s words came on shallow breaths. Mikasa’s breath was playing
against her ear and against her better judgment she didn’t move to release her
from its influence. “I mean to say—I don’t know.”
“I don’t want to stop,” Mikasa said. “If you want me to, then I w-will. But
otherwise don’t worry.”
“O-oh.”
Sasha pulled away ever so slightly and in that brief moment Mikasa feared that
this was the end of this thing, whatever it was. But as quickly as the fear
came, it left in about as much time as it took for Mikasa to find herself
pinned on the ground in a light haze of dirt with Sasha straddling her waist.
The relief on Sasha’s face was so bright that it could rival the full moon.
“I’m so glad to hear that, Mikasa,” she said.
“You’re really hard to read.”
“Hunters have to be.”
She bent over her and kissed her roughly, her hair cascading around their
faces. Mikasa’s hands were under her shirt again faster than a rabbit darting
for the underbrush, taking in the contours of her body with ravenous hands,
curious fingertips, cruel nails, desperate palms. Once more, she pulled at
Sasha’s night shirt—how easily ripped such worn material could be—the hem
slipping up over her back and belly. Sasha’s hands moved to her wrists as if to
help. Instead, she drew them up and away, up over Mikasa’s head.
“Sasha?”
“I wanna see why you want my obedience so much,” she replied, a giggle passing
from her and straight into Mikasa’s lungs, her mirth seeping into her
bloodstream at a dizzying rate. “I wanna see what you’re like when you don’t
have that control. Just once. Then you can order me around for the rest of my
life.”
Mikasa couldn’t help but mouth her agreement against Sasha’s lips without a
second thought. Sasha giggled again and wiggled excitedly on top of her,
seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on Mikasa. Or perhaps too aware.
Mikasa was positively drunk on Sasha’s influence, pleasantly so, agonizingly
so. She balled her hands into fists above her head in an effort to cling to
what sobriety remained in her.
“No sound,” Sasha said, and kissed her throat.
Before that would have been no problem at all with the threat of being caught
bearing down on her, but now that Sasha told her not to, it felt imperative
that she should. Like breathing or her heart beating, it seemed necessary to
her survival that she be able to moan under Sasha’s touch. Whimper at the
little touches that littered each inch of newly bared skin as the buttons of
Mikasa’s pajamas came undone. She hissed with no consequence, however, when
Sasha’s thumb passed lightly over her hardened nipple, her hand curling gently
around the curve of her breast. With equal success, she let out a long sigh
when Sasha’s lips and teeth followed to coax erratic little twitches from
Mikasa’s body.
It took Mikasa a long moment to realize that in the wake of Sasha’s mouth,
Sasha was taking advantage of Mikasa’s grinding hips to ease her out of the
rest of her clothes. She probably wouldn’t have noticed if the cool night air
wasn’t playing against her. Soon Sasha travelled down with them, wreaking havoc
in her wake as her tongue traced the muscles under her skin.
Her mouth drew away. It wasn’t until her pajama pants and underwear passed over
her ankles and onto the ground that Sasha set her lips upon her again. She
kissed Mikasa’s knee and caressed her thigh with hands that seemed to tremble.
Or perhaps, it was her thigh that trembled. Perhaps even both. Regardless,
Mikasa could feel Sasha’s mouth wanting to form words. Mikasa, for once unable
to read her face, settled on touching Sasha’s hand with hers.
After a moment, the trembling stopped and the source now made unimportant.
Sasha swatted Mikasa’s hand away with a quiet click of her tongue. “No
touching,” came the hiss of her breath as slipped down her inner thigh. Mikasa
squirmed under her as her kisses and nibbles descended and she found it
difficult to decide whether she should close her legs or open them further.
Sasha’s mouth was too much to bear, yet not enough. Eventually, with the subtle
guidance of Sasha’s nails scratching the length of her other thigh, Mikasa’s
legs fell open and settled comfortably over Sasha’s shoulders. Sasha looked up
at Mikasa for a long moment.
Then Sasha pulled apart her folds and, full of hunger, licked the length of her
without looking away. Mikasa arched so high at the contact that she very nearly
sat straight up. But Sasha laid her palm firmly against her stomach and kept
her down, her fingers and nails digging into her flesh.
Her lapping was slow and tenuous at first for all its confidence. She tasted
her wetness and tested it, dipping into her one moment then flicking against
her clit the next and pausing to pull her labia between her teeth. Mikasa
writhed under each of her little experiments. Sasha had a magic mouth, full of
tricks and sleight of tongue and teeth that seemed all to able to saw her in
half with one misstep, one misjudged placement. She already felt as if she were
falling apart at the seams, as if the very fabric of her being was at the mercy
of Sasha Braus’s tongue.
Sasha’s lips enclosed her clit and she sucked it gently. Gentle or no, Mikasa
forgot herself and wove her fingers into Sasha’s hair with a warbling gasp.
Sasha chuckled against her and peeled her hands away, ceasing her terrible,
wonderful mouth as she did.
“What did I say?” Her breath pulsed upon her, distracting her.
“N-no touching. Sasha p-please,” she answered, trying as hard as she could to
keep the whine out of her voice.
“Yes. And?”
“Uh, no s-s-sounds?”
Sasha nodded and released her hands. “I’ll stop next time.
“No!” she hissed, and locked her ankles around Sasha as hard as she could
without splintering her backbone. “Don’t you dare!”
Sasha giggled at the reaction and flicked her tongue against her again,
silencing her. Mikasa arched again and clutched her own mouth to keep them busy
and keep the sounds welling up in her chest at bay.
It wasn’t long before Sasha settled into a maddening rhythm with her tongue,
and Mikasa could sense naught but the precipice fast approaching. She bucked
hard into Sasha, urging her to go faster, though she knew Sasha wouldn’t
concede. The thought pleased her in a way she wouldn’t have guessed, but there
it was, balanced on the tip of Sasha’s tongue.
Then all at once, it came. Boiling waves engulfed her completely, seeping into
her skin, her blood, her muscles until she stiffened with the power of it. She
bit Sasha’s name into the bones of her own hands.
As she rode it out, she felt Sasha crawl back up her body to lay on top of her,
resting her forehead on hers. She kissed Mikasa’s hands until they fell away.
The ache of them sobered Mikasa more quickly than she liked.
“Sasha,” she whispered and kissed her face. Tenderness overwhelmed her and it
seemed hard to imagine that in the morning she would harden herself again and
tease her with morsels of food. It was the last thing she wished to do right
then. “Oh, Sasha.”
Heat radiated off of Sasha, from her lips and her cheeks and the palm of her
hands which cradled Mikasa’s face to still her. “I take it you liked it?” she
asked, sounding sheepish.
“Only a little bit.” She tried to demonstrate just how little she enjoyed it,
but her hands protested the motion. “Damn it.”
“Poor girl, abusing herself into silence.” Sasha clucked her tongue and rolled
off of her. She crawled a small ways into the darkness.
“Wait Sasha—“ Her scarf and pajamas pelted her in the face as she sat up.
Suddenly, teasing her seemed to be a viable option again. “Sasha, I want to
continue…”
“Not with those hands.” Sasha returned to her side and helped Mikasa to her
feet, careful not to hurt her hands further. She slipped her hair tie off of
Mikasa’s wrist and tie up her mussed hair.
“I can do what you did,” she said. She doubted herself, of course. Mikasa
didn’t have that kind of talent with her tongue; at least, she didn’t yet. But
still she wanted to try to make Sasha into mere puddle of the girl she was now.
Vengeance for how easily she was able to whittle Mikasa down With some
difficulty, Mikasa dressed herself as Sasha peered around the corner.
“Another night,” Sasha said. “Let’s go back to bed before we get caught.”
Another night? Sasha gave her a quick smile as she watched Mikasa weigh the
possibility.
“Alright. Another night,” Mikasa said and followed Sasha back into the
comforting and unknowing darkness of their barracks.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     At last complete. Dreadfully sorry for the wait.
Mikasa found herself pressing Sasha roughly into a tree the very next day. The
sun hadn’t even reached it’s zenith, nor could they be sure that they were
entirely alone, but Mikasa couldn’t help herself. The new memories of Sasha’s
touch still ached on her skin, with no indication on Sasha to call her own.
”M-Mikasa,” Sasha gasped. The kindling that had been in her arms were now
scattered amongst the roots of the tree.
"I’m here to repay your kindness," she said. She felt her face grow hot even as
she forced herself to look into Sasha’s eyes. "If you’ll allow me."
Sasha went a pretty sort of red, as if her face hadn’t been tucked
predatorially between Mikasa’s legs less than twelve hours prior. She nodded
and Mikasa let out a breath she hadn’t been aware that she was holding. The
threat of rejection seemed a silly one, but by the light of day people could be
far different than in night’s shadows. Mikasa kissed her out of relief, showing
it to her in the pull of her teeth and the push of her tongue.
Look at what you do to me.
Already breathing heavily, Sasha pulled her closer by her hips, her thumbs
sticking under waistband of Mikasa’s pants. Mikasa caught those mischievous
things before they could get too comfortable in their assumptions.
"No. You," she said. She pinned them above Sasha’s head with one hand, though
her own protested the strain. "I’ll show you what I can do."
"But your hands."
"My own teeth can’t break these hands. Now…" Mikasa smiled and kissed along the
line of her jaw until she could nuzzle her ear. Sasha giggled under her breath.
"Can you guess what order I’m going to give you?"
Sasha’s skin felt like it was boiling under her lips. “Don’t touch?”
"And?" Mikasa felt her way under Sasha’s shirt with her free hand, distracting
her as much as she possibly could. Judging by the way her body was twitching at
her touch, it worked well.
"Uh…" She arched slightly as she drew her nails over her nipple. "Uh?"
"No. Sounds."
Sasha smiled as if she had known that ordering her about like she had would
come back to haunt her, though Mikasa knew that if she looked into Sasha’s
eyes, there would be no regret. Just plain raw hunger. Mikasa didn’t bother to
look, for even as she settled her lips onto her neck and her nails trickling
down her belly, Sasha jerked against her as if her back was set aflame.
"Do you regret not letting me touch you last night?" Mikasa asked. She bit her
neck lightly, teasing more heat out of her flesh.
Sasha took a breath as if to answer verbally, but caught herself. Instead she
slowly and deliberately nodded. Mikasa caught a glimpse of her face as she went
to bite the other side, saw the way her outer lip bowed. So her advice was
doing Sasha some good at least…
Her fingers slipped into her pants and the underwear underneath. Sasha gasped
and parted her legs for better access. Mikasa cupped her, admiring how wet she
was for her already, her middle finger testing her folds.
"Did you suffer?" Mikasa asked.
She looked at her face now, as flushed and strained as it was to keep the
sounds that no doubt threatened to pour out at bay. Sasha met her eyes and
nodded. Without warning, she bucked against Mikasa’s hand, causing her
searching finger to skim across her clit. Her eyes rolled back. A moan came out
in spite of herself.
"Shall you suffer more?"
A quick shake of her head.
"So you’ll follow my orders?"
Sasha didn’t answer for a long time. Mikasa was about to pull away when she
spoke.
"Can I just… I want to hold you," she said. She smiled sheepishly at her,
begged with the corners of her mouth, pleaded with a gentle brush of the
fingers caught in Mikasa’s other hand. "I won’t touch you more than that, but I
want to be as close as I can." She cleared her throat. "To you, I mean. I can
follow the spirit of your order, though, I mean it."
At that moment Mikasa realized how distant they actually were from each other,
all for the benefit of restraining Sasha. There was space enough between them
that a breeze could come through rustle their clothes without a problem. It
seemed awfully ridiculous. She released Sasha’s hands with a nod.
"Thank you," she said. She settled her arms around Mikasa, pulling her closer
once again without her roving fingers ruining it. "Mum’s the word now.
Promise."
Mikasa couldn’t help but kiss her then, this time with a little more tenderness
than she had afforded her before. “You’re a sweet girl, Sasha.”
Sasha only gave her a pointed look and pursed her lips.
Mikasa switched gears and pulled Sasha’s leg over the crook of her hip, feeling
her folds spreading before the renewed probing of her fingers. This time, the
entirety of Sasha’s lip disappeared between her teeth and Mikasa mourned it’s
temporary loss. The heel of Mikasa’s hand rubbed into her as she crooked two
fingers inside of Sasha, searching for the sweet spot.
Suddenly, Sasha gripped her tighter, her breath hissing out as if she were
hurt. Her uneven bucking said differently. Her other leg swung around Mikasa,
trapping her as wholly as MIkasa trapped against the tree. Mikasa prodded the
spot she last felt.
There.
Sasha gave a deep shudder with each thrust of Mikasa’s. Mikasa kissed the bare
expanse of her throat as her head fell back against the trunk of the tree. If
only they had all the time in the world to do what they wanted to each other,
but no. They barely even had a moment for this, let alone the benefits of
undressing. At that thought, the ache in her hand grew more pronounced from the
cramped space in Sasha’s underwear, and for one horrid moment she thought that
perhaps she did badly injure them.
"Sasha," she whispered, biting back the pain.
Sasha struggled to focus on her, but when she finally could, she met Mikasa’s
gaze with such a ferocity that Mikasa felt her stomach tie itself into knots.
She didn’t dare stop now.
No sooner had the moment passed than Sasha let out a surprised cry and clamped
around her fingers, going stiff as a statue around her. Mikasa continued to
stroke her heel against her clit until finally the rigor released Sasha with a
loud sigh.
"So soon?" Mikasa said, trying to act disappointed. Her hand was screaming at
her as she drew it back and there was no doubt in her mind that it would be
numb for awhile. She set Sasha down to rest against the root of the tree, only
now taking in the way the late morning light dappled Sasha’s features in white-
gold. The faded redness in her cheeks held the effect particularly well.
"I’ve never found that spot before," Sasha managed to say. "That was new for
me."
Mikasa knelt down and brushed the hair from her face, all the better to really
take in Sasha’s features. Her amber eyes were fluttering at her touch and an
easy smile came to replace the exhausted grimace as her breathing slowed. Sasha
nuzzled into the palm of Mikasa’s hand.
"Mikasa, what are we?" she asked once the comfortable silence had dissipated.
"What should we be?"
Mikasa shrugged. Her thumb ghosted over her cheek in loose circles. “What do
you want to be?”
"I don’t know."
It was an indescribable look that passed over her face then, but now matter
what it actually meant, it unsettled Mikasa. She rested her forehead against
Sasha’s. “We can play it by ear, if you want. The only thing I know for certain
is that I enjoy what we do have even if it can’t be explained.”
"Same here." She kissed Mikasa’s cheek meekly.
Mikasa returned the kiss upon her lips before she stood and began collecting
the kindling Sasha had dropped, knowing that if Sasha didn’t return soon,
someone would start searching for her. Sasha helped, if a bit reluctantly,
discontent to prepare her departure from Mikasa, but resigned to the truth of
the matter. Sasha kissed her one last time before she set off back to the
camps, clearly warring with herself whether or not to look back.
Mikasa was both proud and disappointed that she didn’t.
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