Annie didn't mean to stay.
She only wanted to pass by, only wanted to catch a glimpse — but the second she heard Mikasa's low voice inside the room, something inside her twisted violently, rooting her to the floor.
The door was cracked open just enough.
Inside, the firelight flickered across bare skin. Historia lay sprawled across the sheets, her golden hair messy around her flushed face, her body naked except for the thin blanket tangled around her waist.
Mikasa knelt over her, her strong hands dragging the blanket away, exposing more and more of Historia's trembling body.
Annie's breath caught painfully in her throat.
This wasn't awkward, fumbling need.
This was practiced.
This was familiar.
Mikasa knew exactly where to touch, how to make Historia whimper—slow, confident movements that spoke of too many nights spent tangled together.
Mikasa's mouth moved down Historia's throat, her teeth scraping lightly along her skin. Historia arched into her touch with a soft, broken sound that shattered something inside Annie's chest.
She should leave. She knew she should.
But her legs wouldn't move.
She watched, helpless, burning, as Mikasa slid a hand between Historia's thighs, her fingers disappearing into the heat there, slow and merciless.
Historia cried out, hips bucking, her hands clutching at Mikasa's shoulders.
Annie's nails dug into her palms until she nearly bled.
And then — Mikasa looked up.
Their eyes met across the dim room.
For a moment, Annie thought she would stop. That shame or pity might flicker across Mikasa's face.
But Mikasa only smirked — slow, cruel, devastating.
Without looking away from Annie, Mikasa lowered her mouth between Historia's thighs.
Annie bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.
Historia writhed under Mikasa's tongue, sobbing broken, desperate sounds. Mikasa pinned her hips down with one strong arm, holding her still, devouring her like she was starving.
Annie stood frozen, breathing hard, tears blurring her vision. She could hear every wet, filthy sound from the bed. She could see every shudder of Historia's body, every flex of Mikasa's powerful shoulders.
And Mikasa never looked away from her.
When Historia finally shattered apart, crying Mikasa's name like a prayer, Mikasa pressed a kiss to her trembling inner thigh—mockingly soft.
Then, slowly, deliberately, she licked her fingers clean, staring straight at Annie.
Annie turned and fled down the hallway, heart pounding like she was dying.
She didn't even realize she was crying until she tasted salt on her lips.
"Leaving already?"
The low voice stopped Annie cold.
She froze in the middle of the hallway, every muscle in her body locking up.
Mikasa's bare feet padded softly against the wooden floor, catching up to her with terrifying calm.
Annie didn't turn around.
She couldn't.
She didn't want Mikasa to see the way she was shaking.
A hand caught her wrist — strong, inescapable.
Mikasa tugged her back, spun her roughly around, slamming her against the wall.
Annie gasped — and Mikasa's naked body pressed into hers, flushed and damp with sweat and heat.
"You want to watch," Mikasa murmured, voice a silken threat against her ear, "then watch properly."
Annie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to turn her face away — but Mikasa grabbed her jaw and forced her to look.
Her fingers dug cruelly into Annie's chin, tilting her head up until their faces were inches apart.
Annie could still taste blood on her tongue from biting down earlier. Her whole body was a tight coil of agony and arousal, shame and want.
"You think I didn't notice?" Mikasa whispered, her breath hot against Annie's skin.
"You think you could stand there, drooling over me, and I wouldn't see it?"
Annie whimpered — a soft, broken sound she couldn't contain.
Mikasa's mouth twisted into something dark and satisfied.
Behind them, Historia's voice floated lazily from the bed.
"Mikasa... come back..."
Mikasa didn't even glance at her.
Her eyes were locked on Annie, drinking in every helpless tremble, every tear she tried to hide.
"You don't get to look at me like that," Mikasa whispered, her thumb dragging across Annie's trembling lower lip, slow and cruel.
"Not after everything you've done."
Annie shuddered, pinned helplessly between the cold wall and the unbearable heat of Mikasa's body.
Mikasa leaned in closer, lips brushing Annie's ear.
"If you want me so badly..."
A soft, mocking chuckle.
"...you should've been braver."
Annie's breathing hitched, her fists clenching uselessly at her sides.
Mikasa's hand slid lower, tracing the line of Annie's waist, her hipbone, her thigh — slow, deliberate — like she was memorizing every inch she could hurt later.
But just as Annie's knees started to buckle, just as she thought she might collapse under the weight of it all—
Mikasa pulled back.
Cold air rushed between them.
Mikasa turned on her heel and sauntered back to the bed, where Historia was waiting for her with open arms and flushed cheeks.
Without a single glance back, Mikasa climbed onto the bed and sank into Historia's body like Annie hadn't even existed.
Annie stood there against the wall, shattered and shaking.
She didn't remember how she made it back to her room.
She didn't remember the way her hands clawed at her chest, trying to dig the pain out.
She only remembered the sound of Mikasa's laughter—soft, cruel, victorious—echoing in her ears long after she collapsed onto her bed, sobbing silently into the pillow.