Heat

Summary: She hadn't noticed it, not really…until they began to call her the Red Queen. Older!AnnaxMikoto

A/N (Kind of important): From what I can tell from the anime, Anna cannot clearly see Mikoto. For the sake of this fic, she can so long as her marbles are on her person, yes? I'm taking a lot of creative liberties with this fic so...don't hurt me please. There also won't be a lot of dialogue, sorry if that's your thing.

-HOMRA-

It had been slow in coming. Neither of them thought very much of it when Anna began to press herself into his side, small hands wrapping around his arm. He was warm – the only warm place, and so he let her come nearer than the other clansmen.

Anna didn't think very much of it either, when he smiled the tiniest of smiles for her; when he lifted her in his arms with utmost gentleness before a fall; when he began to leave his left hand out of his pocket, because he knew she would take it sooner or later.

Some days she would wake and find herself curled up so near to him it scared her. When he was gone, traces of cigarette smoke and burnt wood and cinnamon would be on her clothes, on her breath, and in her hair.

She imagined the little thrill that ran up her spine when his heat washed over her was just relief; her body's reaction to the cold being banished. The affection that settled in her heart the longer she looked upon him was that of friendship. Anna thought his red was the prettiest because he was her King – that was all.

It was slow... and maybe that's why she didn't notice it.

The first time he'd brushed his knuckles across her cheek, she had smiled at the familiar warmth that rushed to her core. It was only the look in his amber eyes that made her think twice about what it really meant.

Mikoto's eyes always bore a certain heat. Whether it was anger, irritation, even contentment, every Red Clansmen was familiar with Mikoto's hard stares.

This time he stared down at her and his eyes held a raw burning that made her feel she was standing at the center of an inferno. He leaned fowards a mere fraction of an inch. A shallow, musky breath wafted across her lips, and her knees locked. She might have fallen if his grip on her arm hadn't been firm. He'd eased her into a chair, breaking his gaze to stare with deadly intent at the wall behind her head. The lines under his eyes had seemed so much more pronounced…

And then he had left, sweeping out the door not to return until late into the night.

The throbbing between her thighs reminded her it had happened, and it was not just because Mikoto was warm. For reasons she could not understand, she had cried that night.

-HOMRA-

Weeks passed afterwards in which nothing happened and neither mentioned it. They did not speak often, actually, but did not necessarily need to. Yata and Izumo began to cast sidelong looks at them when she laced her fingers through his. Anna could understand. She was confused too. Her relationship with her King had changed, but she wasn't sure when or how.

When the clock struck midnight and it was officially December 8th, Anna turned 20 years old.

Mikoto did not sing. He never did, for anyone's birthday, but he did stand close to her side and offer one of his rare smiles as their clansmen belted out a raucous rendition of 'Happy Birthday.'

There had been cake, and presents, and so many drinks.

Hours later, when the sun was minutes from rising over the tall silver buildings outside, she found herself alone with her King. She couldn't remember how they had got into the staff room at the back of Izumo's bar. For once, things happened quickly.

She had been nearly running, she remembered at least, and then she'd tripped a mere few feet from the cream colored sofa. Mikoto had caught her, of course, pulling her upright. She stumbled into his chest. Their gazes locked, and it took only a scant moment for the burning in his eyes to shift into something she didn't know she knew: desire.

When his lips had crashed down onto hers and his weight was pressing her into the sofa, she realized she had never known heat like this. She had always been open to him, devoted to him, powerless against him; he was her King and she was loyal and she loved him and now she was so starkly aware of it it made her cry out.

One large hand was tangled in her hair, the other gripping her side in a way she was sure was the roughest he'd ever handled her. His scent was positively overwhelming, his warmth so hot now it was nearly blistering.

It was second nature to surrender to him when his tongue ran across her lips, demanding and harsh and willful. There was a hunger in his touches, something reckless and untamed and simply him in the way he dominated her.

Red flames seemed to be scorching the entire room, licking up and down her body in the most tantalizing ways, dipping into every crevice and inhabiting every corner.

Heat, power, desire, her only warm place…

She found herself arching against him, clutching at his shirt as her toes curled and her veins filled with fire. A deep, soft sigh she realized came from him sent a shock of pleasure up to the top of her head and she shivered despite the heat. His other hand found her hip, her dress was bunched up around her waist, and everything was red, red, red…

Anna heard her marbles ping against the wood floor and roll away.

Mikoto's lips snapped away from hers so fast it left her winded. There was something unreadable in his eyes as he took in her disheveled hair, half-lidded eyes, and swollen lips. As he shifted upwards, she became aware of the bulge in his black pants pressed hard against her sex, but her face could flush no more.

She reached for him. Don't go, she pleaded silently, not now.

"Mikoto…" the whispered word, nearly a prayer, seemed to wake him, and he was gone before she could blink.

He did not return for a week.