Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Some six weeks have passed since that moon-lit night at the lake, and things are almost peaceful in the Corps. Training, testing, and grueling routines aside, there’s honestly little to complain about. 

Even the bland tasteless dinners are somewhat more palatable with the newfound equilibrium among the cadets — specifically around Jean and Eren’s publicity. It took a few weeks for the jeering and the teasing to die down, and even longer for their coupling to become “old news”, but somewhere in the past week or so, it had.

Currently, the happy couple is sitting at their usual table for dinner rations; Eren’s snuggled up against Jean’s side while Armin and Mikasa sit opposite them supplying notes from class — well, mostly Armin is providing his notes while Eren and Jean copy them down into their own journals. The two of them might have ditched the lecture for a not-so-brief snog behind the gear shed, consequently missing half the necessary information for the upcoming exam.

“No, Eren, that mission was the Fifteenth Expedition — I’m talking about the Eighteenth Expedition.” Armin shakes his head as he points to the referenced mission in his notes. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so confused about the timeline if you’d actually stayed for class…” 

Eren groans theatrically and slaps his copied note sheets down on the table alongside his charcoal pen. “Walls, Armin, it’s not like we’ll need this when we’re actually out there fighting titans! Who cares what the fifth or sixth Commander thought was a good formation? We have new commanders now, don’t we?” 

“Bold of you to assume that we’ll all be out there fighting titans…” Jean jabs Eren’s side with his elbow — but they’re too close for it to do much more than jostle the boy. “But since you insist on charging straight into their territory, you should care a lot about these formations so you don’t end up dying. Suicidal maniac.”

Mikasa can’t quite hide her smile of amusement in time, but thankfully Eren misses it — he only turns to his boyfriend with a winning grin and pokes his nose playfully. “Actually, Jean, there’s a reason that these are old formations — they didn’t work.” He glances down at the notes that Armin painstakingly took and shrugs. “We should only need to know the new ones really…”

“Ooh, you guys passing notes over here?” Sasha startles Jean with her sudden appearance over his shoulder, cradling scraps of bread and ration biscuits in her arms.

Jean clicks his tongue and tries in vain to push her backward. “Do you mind, Sasha? I don’t need everyone all up in my grill at the same time…”

“Yeah, back off, Sasha, I don’t share!” Eren says with a grin and then steals one of her hard-earned biscuits. 

“Hey! Give that back!” Sasha shouts as she jumps over Jean to swipe at it. “Do you have any idea what I had to do to get my hands on that?”

Eren stuffs the biscuit into his mouth before Sasha can grab it back and smiles crumbly at her. “So-eh wha?”

Sasha’s voice gets caught in her throat as she freezes mid-swipe, staring at Eren like he’d just eaten a baby animal alive. 

“Oi, Sasha, I got the rest of the loot!” Connie appears somewhere behind the commotion, holding the other goods that Sasha couldn’t carry herself, and freezes upon the strange scene in front of him. “Eh, Sasha? Why are you on Jean’s lap?”

Sasha turns to her partner in crime with misty eyes and a pout. “Eren snatched one o’ my biscuits right from under mah nose…”

“And now it’s gone,” Jean huffs, “so can you get the fuck off me?” Before she has an opportunity to respond, Jean swivels away from the table and shoves Sasha to the ground, dislodging all her goods in the process. Eren snorts, crumbs flying from his nose as he struggles not to choke on his laugh. Mikasa is rather unimpressed, and Armin looks mildly mortified. 

Sasha wastes no time, however, and scrambles to pick up the priceless rations, grumbling and pouting all the while.

Connie has already bent down to help Sasha collect her goods. “Hey, Sasha, don’t worry about it,” the boy whispers conspiratorially with a small grin. “I snuck you somethin’ real nice for later.”

Sasha’s eyes light up, and she moves in closer to Connie. “You’re serious?”

Connie gives her a triumphant smirk and pulls open his jacket just enough for her to see the small wrapped sausages in his inner pocket. Sasha’s mouth drops open, and she throws her arms around the boy, squeezing him half to death with her hug. “You’re a lifesaver, Connie! Thank you!” Connie blushes with pride. 

The blustering chaos draws the attention of some of the other 104th cadets, including those whose attention is already fully occupied. Ymir angles her head over Christa’s and glares daggers at the two idiots on the floor. “Do you two mind? I’ve got a fuckin’ headache and I don’t need to add your voices to the mix.” 

Christa softly giggles as she takes Ymir’s hand, lacing their fingers together and stroking over the sharp bumps of Ymir’s knuckles with her thumb. “Hey, they’re just having their fun,” she chirps, “you know how they are. But we can leave if it’s bothering you too much…” Her expression is innocent, but the way she angles her gaze through her lashes is anything but.

Ymir tsks disdainfully, though her attention is wholly recaptured by Christa and she buries her nose in the soft golden hair on the girl’s head, shutting her eyes with mildly obscene bliss. “Mmm, you need to finish your dinner first, babe.” 

“Yes, of course!” Christa takes a spoonful of her stew and holds it up to Ymir’s lips. “Care to help me?”

From the floor, Connie mimes a gagging face towards Sasha. She snickers into her hand and shuffles to her feet, shifting her spoils to one arm so that she can help Connie up with the other. “Man, what are we gonna do with all these kooky lovebirds that keep poppin’ up?”

Connie doesn’t get to respond because Reiner and Bertholdt walk behind him and Reiner’s attention is instantly caught by Sasha’s comment. “What kooky lovebirds?” he asks curiously, holding two empty trays with one hand and Bertholdt’s hand with the other. 

Connie turns to Sasha and his eyes are tearing up with how hard he’s trying to not laugh. Sasha is not doing much better. “He… he can’t be for real…” she gasps in between chuckles.

“Oh Sina!” Connie grabs onto her arm and practically bends over with the effort it takes not to burst out laughing. “They’re holding hands , Sasha…”

“There’s somethin’ in the air, I’m tellin’ ya…” Sasha pats Connie on the shoulder and starts making her way to a table that a few other cadets are clearing off. “C’mon, let’s get away from ‘em before we catch the bug.”

Reiner’s baffled face follows them for a good bit until Bertholdt’s gentle nudge reminds him of his task to put away their trays. 

Eren is grinning like an idiot through the scene, but he has snuck his hand down to interlace his own fingers with Jean’s, flipping the boy’s hand over so that he can trace circles on his palm. He turns to the taller boy and gives him a charming smile. “What do you think, Jean? Are we kooky lovebirds too?”

“Hell no,” Jean immediately replies. His slightly irritated expression softens however at the sight of Eren’s smile — he chuckles as he pokes Eren’s nose with his free hand. “Maybe you are. But I’m absolutely not.”

From across the table, Mikasa turns to Armin with a raised brow and a small disbelieving look. Armin shakes his head and does his best to keep his laughter as quiet as possible. 

Eren pouts for a moment before a sly smile creeps its way onto his face. “Okay, so we’re not kooky lovers — what would you call us then, Jean?” he croons teasingly. 

Jean smirks at Eren before leaning in close to the boy’s ear. “I’d say we’re pretty steamy, wouldn’t you agree?” As surreptitiously as he can manage, he gently presses his lips to Eren’s ear before pulling back.

The boy’s face turns a pretty shade of pink and he has to cough to hide the gasp that was entirely inappropriate for the dinner table with his friends. “Uh — yeah. Good word choice, that,” he manages to squeak out. He slips his hand from Jean’s and lays it instead on the other boy’s leg, squeezing the thigh muscle once with meaning . 

Mikasa coughs politely and then drags Armin’s notes from the center of the table, shuffling them to make a clean edge before handing the pile to the blond beside her. “Armin and I were going to take a walk after dinner, weren’t we?” She says, glancing at Armin with a mixture of sympathy and understanding . 

“Y-yes!” Armin croaks out, and he blushes at the all-too-evident strain in his voice as he harshly clears his throat. “Uh… any last questions before we head out?”

Eren blinks at the somewhat obvious excuse Mikasa made and he feels both amused and charmed by her indiscreet method to give himself and Jean privacy. Before they can get up and run off however he moves over to their side of the table and pulls Mikasa in for a tight hug before dragging Armin in for one as well. “None, thanks Minnie for the notes — don’t know what we’d do without you.” He pecks a chaste kiss on Armin’s cheek and then leisurely makes his way back to sit by Jean.

Armin softly squeaks when he feels Eren’s lips on his skin, and his stomach churns as he watches Jean’s face contort with confusion. Jean follows Eren with his eyes as the boy casually strolls back toward his seat, wondering how Eren could pull such a crazy stunt right in front of him and show no fear at all of retaliation.

Actually, he does understand how Eren could do that. Kind of. They’ve talked about this stuff before, on multiple occasions, but as much as Jean wants to believe that he perfectly gets the nuances of Eren’s affections, there are certain things that still get under his skin when he sees them in practice. 

In principle, they’re no big deal, but by Sina, Rose, and Maria, can Eren pretend to be his and only his for just five damn minutes?

Before Eren gets a chance to sit back on the bench, Jean takes his arm and pulls him down just low enough that he can push his lips onto Eren’s, taking his time to caress them in full view of the mortified blond. Before he breaks the kiss, he opens his eyes halfway to throw a menacing side glance at Armin, who freezes and shifts his own gaze to the floor.

Eren smiles into the surprise kiss; frankly, Jean is rather touchy about public displays and so a kiss like this, in full view of anyone around, is something that sends him positively soaring with giddy joy.

And not an insignificant amount of excitement down below the belt. He feels Jean pull back and has to blush when he realizes that the kiss was on full display for Mikasa and Armin. He’s not embarrassed that they saw it — rather, that they saw how he reacted to it. 

He slips his hand right back over Jean’s thigh and traces the inner seam daringly. “You both enjoy your walk then! I’ll see you later tonight Armin!”

“See you!” Armin blurts out as he leaps off the bench and grabs his tray, scurrying off toward the dish collection. Mikasa follows at a far more sedate pace, but not without sending Eren and Jean a knowing look from under her bangs.

Meanwhile, Jean’s thighs tense with the effort not to spread further open at Eren’s touch. He covers his soft sigh with a chuckle as he strokes Eren’s wrist with his fingers. “Now just what the hell do you think you’re starting, Eren, hm?”

As soon as his friends aren’t within earshot, Eren turns to Jean with the sweetest, most innocent look he can muster. “Hopefully nothing you aren’t willing to continue…”

Jean can’t help but laugh at the sharp contrast between Eren’s unassuming face and his delightfully naughty insinuations. He moves his hand from Eren’s wrist to his hair, stroking downward until his fingers brush the nape of the boy’s neck. “For you? I’m more than willing,” he purrs with a playful smile.

Revealing just how eager he is to cash in on Jean’s willingness, Eren leaps up and gathers both their trays before bending to whisper in Jean’s ear. “Meet me in the supply closet behind the showers — should be pretty empty — bring a change of clothes.” Then he’s off, trotting right up to the counter for dish collection, with the faintest skip in his step. 

***

While Eren clears their trays, Jean heads straight to the boys’ barracks to bundle up his night clothes before slipping back outside and hurrying to the supply closet. He keeps the pace of his strides measured to avoid drawing too much attention, but it’s a struggle while his mind is already imagining the enticing look and feel of Eren’s body, how the boy must be aching with need for his touch as he sits there waiting for him in the small, dark room…

He’s almost ashamed to admit how his heart races and his stomach flips at the thoughts, but Walls these fantasies are too much fun to indulge.

Jean doesn’t wait long in the closet before a sharp, patterned knock on the old wooden door announces Eren’s presence. He’s holding a small wrapped bundle of his night clothes in one arm and a small washrag and skin bag in the other — useful cleaning supplies for after they have their fun.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, got held up with Floch asking me something,” he mutters breathily, closing the closet behind himself and plunging them both back into the darkness. 

Jean clicks his tongue and pulls Eren closer to him, laughing into the boy’s hair as he envelops Eren in a gentle embrace. “Tell that kid to keep his nose outta your damn business,” he whispers before kissing the crook of Eren’s neck.

Eren’s giggle is quickly swallowed by a soft gasp at the delightful feeling of Jean’s lips on his neck. But Eren is a man with a mission so he pulls back and sets his clothes and the cleaning supplies in a corner before promptly taking off his tunic. “Why are you still wearing clothes, Jean? Get em’ off!”

“Since when do you get to tell me what to do?” Jean rolls his eyes but still swiftly pulls his shirt over his head. “I want all of yours off first.”

Eren throws his tunic into a forgotten corner of the closet and proceeds to toe off his boots and slip off his trousers in one smooth movement. He’s already half-hard and they’ve done nothing more than tease each other lightly. 

“Already ahead of you, horse-boy.” He grins. 

A playful, hungry glint enters Jean’s eyes as he drinks in the sight of Eren’s cock — he’s seen it more times than he can count at this point, but it never loses its titillating impact. “Oh, you’re that eager for my touch tonight?” he asks with a lilt in his voice, reaching out to stroke the inside of Eren’s thigh.

Eren bites his lower lip and presses into the touch, canting his hips forward and spreading his legs just a little. “I’m always eager for it, baby…” he whispers huskily.

Jean lets out a satisfied sigh as he squeezes Eren’s thigh, and leans in to kiss the underside of Eren’s jaw. “And I love that about you, doll.” He continues massaging Eren’s thigh, slowly moving his hand upward as his kisses trail down the side of Eren’s neck.

Eren reaches forward and snags Jean’s trousers by the belt, shimmying it down his hips impatiently. “How — how d’ya want it, Jean?” Eren feels slightly lightheaded with how turned on he is; his cock is at full mast now and he wants nothing more and nothing less than to be utterly smothered by Jean. 

“Hey, what’s the hurry?” Jean chuckles as he slides his hands onto Eren’s hips and squeezes them. “You can relax and let me take care of you first…” He pulls back his hand and brings his knee up between Eren’s legs to gently brush up against the boy’s cock. “You clearly seem to need it more, no?”

The barely-there touch of Jean’s knee against Eren’s cock makes the boy keen embarrassingly quick. “Hnnh!” His hands turn into claws at Jean’s hips and dig into the flesh with a painful pinch. “Y-you’re just sayin’ that ‘cause I can cum more than twice in a night — ahh — bastard!” The insult falls rather flat because Eren is rocking his hips against the other boy’s knee with pathetic eagerness.

Jean forgets to laugh at Eren’s sorry excuse for a comeback — he’s far too aroused by Eren humping his knee. His whole face reddens and his throat runs dry as he moves one hand to Eren’s ass and grips it as hard as he can. “Yeah, I can make you cum like that ‘cause you’re just that desperate for me, aren’t you?” He bites into the flesh between Eren’s neck and shoulder, and then he runs his tongue over the red marks that he leaves behind.

Eren’s practically mewling at this point. There’s a firm hand on his ass, encouraging his hips to continue their desperate, jerky motions, and there’s a perfectly hard, warm surface to rut his dick on, and then there’s Jean and his stupid smooth fucking words …

It’s really all Eren can do to not melt right there and then. Instead, he grounds himself, shooting his arms up to rest over Jean’s broad shoulders and locking his hands behind the boy’s neck. The sharp stinging bites and kisses that Jean leaves on his skin cause Eren’s blood to sing and he doesn’t hold back in his vocalization of that pleasure. 

“J-Jean! Please, you know I-I’m desperate — oh fuck!” Eren’s cut off by a sudden blast of pleasure as his cockhead rubs just right on Jean’s thigh. “Hah! Jean, can I cum? Please?”

“Already?” Jean shakes his head and lowers his leg as his hands snake their way up and down Eren’s spine, teasing the flesh with light touches. “No, I wanna keep teasin’ this pretty body of yours…” He kisses Eren’s lips — it’s a brief embrace, but it’s filled with fervor. “Wanna hear more of your sexy voice moaning for me…”

No sooner does Eren feel Jean’s leg moving away from him than does he hear Jean’s clear-cut order that he can’t cum yet. While it’s not the first time that Jean has refused his plea for an early orgasm, it still shoots spikes of volcanic lust right through Eren’s mind. So strongly in fact, that he’s caught by surprise at Jean’s soft lips running over his. 

He lets out a shaky whine and his hands crawl up into the taller boy’s hair. “ Jeaaan …” He whimpers, “I was so close !” 

Jean shuts his eyes and sighs as he leans into Eren’s touch, and his cock twitches at the sound of the boy’s adorably frustrated whining. “You’ll get there again soon enough, princess,” he assures him as his hands move to Eren’s chest and his fingers dance over the boy’s nipples.

Eren pushes back a little to give Jean more room to work; the small but sweet shocks of pleasure as those clever fingers work around his sensitive nubs gives him some respite from the raging inferno of lust dominating his body. But not nearly enough. “Wh-what’ll it take then?” Eren looks up at Jean through his lashes coyly, huffing out his pleasure in short soft pants. “What’ll it take for my handsome prince to let me cum, just once?” he croons. 

Jean’s body heats up from head to toe in response to Eren’s compliment — it takes a concerted effort for him to keep up his teasing touches as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. “Hmm…” He holds Eren’s gaze as he pinches one of Eren’s nipples between his fingers and twists it. “Just… fuck… just be good and let me play with you for a little while longer, okay?” Jean still can’t quite catch his breath — Fuck, what’d this idiot do to me? — so he hides his flustered expression by leaning forward to kiss and nibble at Eren’s collarbone.

The soft mouthing at his collar throws Eren’s head back and he lets out a litany of soft curses before dropping back down to coax Jean into a hungry kiss. He keeps his lips open and pliable and dips his tongue into Jean’s mouth to taste a little of that beautiful voice — and to press some of his own up against the soft wetness of Jean’s tongue as well.

Jean welcomes Eren with a low, needy moan. He lowers his jaw further and turns his head to the side to deepen the kiss. His tongue zealously pushes back on Eren’s, licking it like he means to memorize the boy’s taste. His arms wrap loosely around Eren’s waist as he loses himself in the rhythm of their passionate dance…

Eren only pulls away when they have to breathe. “I — I can be good for you, Jean…” he whispers, “I’ll be so good — you make me wanna be so good for ya, baby…”

“Mm…” Jean’s simmering lust flushes his cheeks a deeper red. “That’s what I like to hear…” He grips Eren’s hair with one hand and reaches down to fondle Eren’s balls with the other, grinning in shameless anticipation of a strong reaction. “Sina, you’re so hot when you give in to me like this…” 

Eren squirms, gasping sharply at the unexpected but very welcome sensation. His hips thrust forward desperately, dragging his cock against Jean’s forearm. “Jean! Jean please… ” He’s begging again, useless as it might be — he half-hopes Jean will give in, and half hopes to Maria that he won’t. 

Suddenly a bright, vivid visual of Jean on his knees hits Eren like a cannonball and he chokes on a gasp; his hips stuttering dramatically as his cock dribbles a long line of precum over Jean’s arm.

Would Jean… would he want to do that? 

“J-Jean would you…” He cuts himself off, suddenly scared to ask.

Puzzled by Eren’s unnatural hesitance, Jean takes his hand out of Eren’s hair and places it on the boy’s cheek, tenderly cupping it. “Would I what?” His inquiry comes out as a whisper, his breath dancing over Eren’s lip as he utters it.

Eren’s lips fall open instinctively, breathing in Jean’s words like he’s suffocating and it’s the only air he’ll ever get. Instead of talking, he brings a hand up and uses a slightly shaky thumb to press down on Jean’s lower lip, running the calloused digit over the flesh with near-worshipful delicacy. 

“I — I want…” he swallows, “I want your m-mouth, Jean…”

Jean sighs onto Eren’s thumb, holding Eren’s gaze incredulously but hungrily. He tries unsuccessfully to hide how flustered he is by clearing his throat and relaxing his shoulders, but the heat and color rolling over his skin tells Eren everything that he needs to know. “Tch… you really wanna see me between your legs that bad?”

Eren can’t hide the dark flash in his eyes at the suggestive words coming out of Jean’s mouth. He dips his thumb in, his own lips parting open sympathetically. “You don’t know the half of it, Jean…” he smirks slightly, “And I don’t think I’m wrong — I’ll bet you wanna try it…”

Jean’s hips sway slightly as he shivers imagining over five different positions that Eren could have possibly been alluding to. All at once, he hates and loves how deeply it stirs him — but Walls, he could never admit that to the boy. Instead, he sucks Eren’s thumb further into his mouth, licking the pad of it slowly from side to side, from bottom to tip, around its circumference — and then he smirks around it as he lightly grazes the skin with his teeth.

“Somethin’ like that?”

Eren’s eyes widen to the size of saucers and his breath utterly leaves his lungs. He shuts his eyes because the sight of Jean’s confident smirk, lips and teeth holding Eren’s thumb hostage, has him dangerously close to shoving the boy on his knees and taking him by force.

Holy fuck…

He opens his eyes. “Y-yeah… just like that… You — fuck — you have no damn right being this hot, Jean…”

“Oh, shut up —” Jean gives Eren’s thumb a final quick swipe with his tongue before releasing it. “I have every right to be this hot.” His hands move back to the boy’s hips, and he plants a kiss on each of Eren’s nipples before working his way down Eren’s torso, licking and nipping teasingly at the flesh. The lower he moves, the faster his heart pounds — Jean has no idea how he’ll keep his nerve while his face is this close to Eren’s cock…

But something about the naked flood of raw need in the boy’s face and voice makes him more than willing to take that chance. Just for five minutes.

Soon Jean’s face hovers right above Eren’s hard, twitching cock, the head wet and shiny with precum that drips out in a long, thin strand from the slit, and he momentarily forgets to breathe. He really likes the look of it up close like this. 

Eren curses under his breath. He’d watched breathlessly as Jean moved down his body, watched with hooded eyes and lower lip caught between his teeth as Jean nipped and kissed his way down.

And now Jean is on his damn knees, gazing at Eren’s cock with a look of lustful awe and Eren doesn’t think he’ll last long enough to feel Jean’s tongue on him. As inconspicuously as he can manage, he slips a hand down to grab the stem of his cock; he hopes it looks more like he’s directing it towards Jean’s mouth and not like he’s seconds away from prematurely ejaculating over his boyfriend’s face. 

“ Sina , Jean…” he whispers thickly, “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this…”

“I — you —” Jean’s breath hitches after each failed attempt to start a sentence; his ears burn as they blush bright red. “ Pretty is the word you wanna use?” Not expecting a response (and somewhat afraid to receive one), Jean runs his tongue over the slit of Eren’s cockhead, lapping up every single drop of precum that leaks from it.

“Oh fuck! ” Eren slaps his free hand over his mouth and groans between his fingers, the sound still vulgarly loud. His occupied hand forms a ring at the base of his cock with his pointer finger and thumb; at this point, he’s given up all pretense and just wants to last long enough to feel more of whatever Jean will give him. 

The salacious sound of Eren’s voice reverberates in Jean’s core — his own cock starts to twitch, and he reaches down to give it a soft, relieving squeeze. Then, after taking a breath, he wraps his lips around the head of Eren’s cock. He licks a few more stripes across the head and then circles it with his tongue, just like he’d practiced on Eren’s thumb. The feeling of the boy’s soft, throbbing flesh in his mouth is far more satisfying than he’d imagined it would be, and he’s relishing it.

Eren thinks he’s going mad. Fuck the Survey Corps, fuck the walls, fuck the titans … He wants to stay in this cramped supply closet for the rest of his life if it means Jean will keep doing what he’s doing… He drops the hand covering his mouth to thread his fingers into Jean’s short hair. He does not dare push down, but he does tug sharply on the soft locks — more in pleasure than anything demanding.

“Jean… fuck ,” he groans, “Sina, your tongue… ”

Jean flinches at the rough handling, but it sets off sparks that flit over the surface of his skin. He sucks Eren’s cockhead further into his mouth, moaning onto it as his tongue caresses the boy’s shaft, teasing the frenulum with light swipes and flicks.

Each brush of Jean’s tongue is like liquid flame dousing over Eren’s entire body. He rolls his head back and sighs a shaky breath out between his teeth, the hand in Jean’s hair curling as his fingers dig into the boy’s scalp a bit. 

His make-do cockring is not doing much to stave off the orgasm that Eren feels rapidly approaching and he’s torn between warning Jean and just letting it happen, or pulling away to prolong the pleasure. 

“J-Jean — I’m — fuck , I’m too ahhh — I’m close!” He leaves the decision for Jean to make.

As much fun as he’s having pleasing Eren with his tongue, Jean reminds himself that he came into this session with a plan. He sticks to his script by slowly sliding his mouth off of Eren’s cock (which slaps right back up wetly on the boy’s abs) and moves to kiss Eren’s hips as a sort of apology. “Not yet,” he whispers huskily against the skin. “You can hold on a little while longer for me, can’t you, doll?”

Eren fails to cut off his agonized whine when he feels the cool air hit his cock as Jean pulls off him. He drags the hand buried in Jean’s hair down to the boy’s sharp jaw and dares to retrace his now-reddened lower lip. “Fuckin’ hell, Jean… You’re tryin’ to kill me?” he gasps through a pained smile.

“Nah…” Jean gets to his feet and moves to lick a hot stripe up Eren’s neck to his earlobe, which he grazes with his teeth. “I know you like how much it hurts,” he whispers into the boy’s ear, “so you’ll take as much as I give you…” His hands snake around to Eren’s ass and squeeze both cheeks at the same time.

“Oh — fuck you… ” Eren groans. The sudden pressure and the pleasure which sparks as a result of it, forces his hands to grip at Jean’s hips for stability. It leaves his cock woefully vulnerable and at the perfect height to brush up against Jean’s. 

Eren turns his attention up to Jean’s face and leans in to plant a kiss on the underside of the boy’s sharp jaw, nibbling at the skin needily. “C’mon, Jean — lemme cum once, please? I can do it again, anyway. Please?”

Jean tries and fails to stifle a moan as Eren’s teeth nip at his jaw and their cocks brush against each other. The desperation in Eren’s begging sounds so damn sweet that it’s putting butterflies in Jean’s stomach, but he came into this session with a plan, so he resists the burning-hot urge to cave — to get back on his knees and suck Eren utterly dry. He leaves a kiss on Eren’s jaw instead, and plants another on Eren’s neck, sinking his teeth much deeper into the flesh than the boy had done to him. “I said ‘not yet’, didn’t I?”

“Ahh!” Eren’s resulting moan is much higher than he would have permitted himself, had he any control over his voice. He pinches Jean’s hips in his hands and shuts his eyes against the sudden blood rush through his body. 

He can’t even be properly pissed at Jean for denying him again because, damn it, his cock is loving the abnegation far more than Eren wants to admit. He’s leaking like a tap and leaving streaks of fluid on Jean’s own cock every time they rub against each other. It takes all of his self-control not to thrust into the delicate pressure. 

“Jeaann…” Eren moans out helplessly, practically panting. “I-I’m right there …” 

“I know,” Jean purrs as his hands slide up Eren’s sides and start roaming over his chest. “And I can’t get enough of how cute and needy you sound, princess…” He pinches both of Eren’s nipples and tugs on them, starting gently but getting progressively rougher.

And his ministrations easily elicit the most obscene sounds out of Eren’s mouth. He doesn’t quite squeak but it’s damn near enough a description of the gasping high-pitched mewl that comes out of his mouth. 

“You — ahhh — you’re a fuckin’ — ohhshit !” Eren grits his teeth and glares at Jean as best he can with his head half in the clouds and his cock weeping a fucking river. “You’re a fuckin’ sadist, Jean…”

Jean chuckles before leaning in to gently kiss the tip of Eren’s nose. “Yeah, and you’re a fucking masochist, Eren.” He reaches down to brush his fingers over the drooling head of Eren’s cock, and he groans with satisfaction at how wet it is. “Damn… you’ve done so well for me, doll.” Slowly, he lowers himself back to his knees, eyeing the final product of his teasing torture with ravenous desire. “Think it’s time I finish the job, yeah?”

Eren can’t breathe enough air into his lungs to respond. He thinks — vaguely, belatedly — that he’s never been harder and wetter in his life. He swallows and tries to speak — but the echo of Jean’s subtle praise reverberates in his skull and he’s rendered mute, dumb as a doll that Jean carved with his stupid smooth words. 

Instead of using words then, he bends over in half to kiss Jean full on the mouth, shaking visibly and tangibly until they break. “I — I’m gonna last maybe five seconds, Jean,” he confesses brokenly. “Where do you want it?”

The question catches Jean off guard — he’d never made a habit of imagining himself in this position, so it takes him a few seconds to run through the options. He’s not sure he could endure the mortification of getting Eren’s cum anywhere on his face or hair, so pulling back when Eren climaxes is out of the question. Which means…

“In my mouth,” he breathlessly replies. “Don’t worry — I…” His face reddens aggressively, but he doesn’t break Eren’s gaze. “I kinda wanna taste you, so I’ll swallow.”

Eren’s eyes widen in response and he chokes a little on his shocked inhale. He hadn’t expected Jean to — to want to taste him. And furthermore, to admit it? Eren half-wonders if he’s died and gone to heaven. “Yeah? Oh — okay, yeah — fuckin’ hell Jean,” he groans, “that’s the hottest damn thing you’ve ever said to me… Walls , give me a second…” He darts a hand down between his legs and gives his cock an urgently needed, very painful squeeze. 

Jean had taken a risk with that admission, so he’s beyond relieved to see it pay off — a self-satisfied smirk spreads across his face at the sight of Eren struggling not to unravel just from his words. He puts a hand on Eren’s thigh and gently strokes it with his fingers, massaging his own shaft with the other and softly groaning as his arousal threatens to boil over and rob him of his composure.

Jean leans forward just a bit, positioning his lips as close to Eren’s cock as he can without touching it. “Whenever you’re ready,” he whispers against it.

Eren breathes out slowly. Using the hand which had just brutally punished his cock, he guides himself a millimeter closer to Jean’s lips — holds his breath — and paints the parted pink flesh with his overflow of translucent precum. 

It looks fucking pornographic. 

“I — fuck you’re so hot…” Eren interrupts himself with a much-needed inhale. “Yeah, okay… I’m ready…” 

Without missing a beat, Jean takes the tip of Eren’s cock back into his mouth and sucks it hard. He then slides his lips further down the shaft — as far as he can go without triggering his gag reflex — and his stomach flips as the boy’s member fills his mouth and pushes against one of his cheeks. He moans onto Eren’s length as his tongue runs over it in long, slow stripes, lapping up Eren’s precum and wetting him instead with his own saliva. Jean strokes himself with a bit more vigor, feeling proud for marking the boy like this.

Eren struggles to not explode instantly. The heat, the wetness, the fucking look on Jean’s face… The sight of his cock disappearing between those damn perfect lips alone is enough to make Eren lightheaded with how much blood rushes south — never mind the slight bump in Jean’s cheek when he dares to take in more of Eren’s cock.

One of Eren’s hands finds its way into Jean’s hair, and the other — more adventurous — traces a line from behind Jean’s ear, to his sharp cheekbone, and then lays flat over that small bulge where Eren’s cock protrudes from behind his cheek. 

He can feel himself inside Jean (and is it really his fault if his mind is picturing another spot where he might feel a bulge from his cock?) and really, that’s more than enough to draw his balls up and send the first embers of orgasm up through Eren’s spine. 

“Jean…” Eren gasps, “Jean, I’m gonna cum…” 

Jean feels silly for it, but when Eren touches the spot where the boy’s cock stretches his cheek, his head floods with so many sparks that he feels dizzy. He squeezes his own cock harder on his next upstroke, and his free hand moves back to Eren’s balls, gently cupping and massaging him as if to coax him.

Do it, Eren, Jean wills him. Cum for me.

Eren does not cum quietly. And he can’t quite stop his hips from jerking forward either. He paints the inside of Jean’s mouth white, and his mind fucking blanks . Pleasure rips down each limb like lightning, burning its way from his cock up his vertebra and through his chest where his heart damn near explodes.

Eren just barely has the presence of mind to open his eyes and watch to see how Jean swallows him — he wonders if some cum might leak out of Jean’s mouth; it feels like a bigger load than normal.

At any rate, it’s a bigger load than Jean had prepared himself for — it coats his tongue in seconds, and he’s far too distracted by Eren’s cockhead twitching and pulsing against his cheek to even remember to swallow. He squeezes his own shaft one more time to ground himself, feeling the smoothness of Eren’s essence as it slides back along his tongue, tasting the familiar saltiness that takes him back to the consummation of their coupling by the lake. Paradoxically, he thinks nothing could have felt or tasted sweeter to him at this moment.

Jean licks Eren’s shaft clean as he slides off of it, tilting his head back to gulp down the boy’s load before cheekily licking his lips.

That look. That fucking look — is what drops Eren to his knees in front of Jean. He’s shaken to his core. He’s overwhelmed with arousal, overwhelmed by pleasure — he’s fucking choking on all that he feels. 

He cups Jean’s face and pulls him for a desperate kiss, licking into his mouth almost hungrily to taste himself on Jean’s tongue — only to find the empty proof that Jean swallowed every drop . He breaks away, gasping. “Walls, Jean. I fucking love you…”

“Mmh — fuck, I love you too.” Jean’s fingers dig deeper into Eren’s hips as he throws his lips back onto Eren’s — he sucks, bites, and tugs on them ravenously, moving at a dizzying, almost punishing pace. Sometimes it scares him how deeply he yearns to be one with Eren like this, but, right now, that yearning feels nothing short of heavenly.

Shakily, because the orgasm has left his arms feeling like pudding, Eren moves his hand to grasp at Jean’s cock, running the meat of his palm up around the wet head. He pulls away from Jean’s lips because he simply can’t stay quiet anymore.

“That was fucking perfect … Fuck, you did so good, Jean…” 

Jean’s heart skips a beat, and a breathy moan slips from his throat as he squirms under Eren’s touch. “That — ah! — that goes without saying,” he quips in response, but his side glance toward the floor is dripping with bashfulness. He needs a distraction from the rapid melting of his heart, so he takes to stroking and massaging Eren’s thighs with his hands.

Eren drags his hand down to grasp fully around Jean’s cock, tugging up and down a few times in measured — but not yet fully pleasurable — strokes. It’s more to work Jean up than anything else. “Yeah… You’re just that good, huh?” he teases breathlessly. “Damn natural at suckin’ cock…” 

“Fuck you… qu-quit makin’ it sound like I’m your bottom…” Jean’s breath hitches as Eren’s frustratingly light strokes taunt him with a shadow of the sensation that he really wants to feel. His fingers dig into Eren’s thighs, and he grits his teeth as he struggles to keep his hips still — Walls, he needs so much more, but he doesn’t want to look that desperate for it…

Eren chuckles, a smirk decorating his face as he presses a quick kiss to Jean’s lips. “It’s a compliment, Jean…” he insists lightly, but then quickly changes tone with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But you make a good bottom… suckin’ me into your mouth like that, lickin’ at me like a damn treat — you swallowed, Jean. Y’know how long it took me to train Floch to swallow?” He changes the tempo of his hand and starts working Jean a bit faster, teasing the slit of his cock on the up-pass with his thumb.

“Ah, fuck!” Jean’s hips start rocking in rhythm with Eren’s strokes all on their own, and a pretty blush creeps down his neck and spreads over his chest. “Why the fuck are you thinkin’ about Floch right now, huh?” He means to stay mad, but when Eren’s thumb presses into the slit of his cockhead he shudders and groans as pleasure races through his body, washing away the memory of whatever had him so heated just a second ago. Who the fuck else matters when even Eren’s simple touches can feel so euphoric?

“I’m not thinkin’ ‘bout anyone right now, except for you, Jean,” Eren whispers, using his other hand to grip Jean tightly by the waist and pull him closer — almost too close for Eren to continue stroking him, so he makes do by pressing Jean’s cock against his abdomen with his hand, letting the boy rut against his skin. 

“I’m thinkin’ about your beautiful face, your gorgeous eyes all dark just for me…” Eren continues, feeling heat prickle through his skin as Jean’s cock leaves wet marks on his stomach. “Thinkin’ about your perfect cock in my hand right now — fuck you make me insane, Jean…” 

Jean melts under the combined heat of Eren’s body and words — those sweet words that stick to his heart and rattle it. A sound escapes him that’s too damn close to a kitten’s mewling for his liking — he wraps his arms around Eren’s waist and hides his face in the other boy’s shoulder, desperately attempting to muffle the embarrassing sounds. 

But Eren uses his free hand to pull Jean back by his russet-colored hair, whispering in a voice so hoarse as to practically be a growl: “Don’t. Let me fuckin’ hear you, baby.”

“Ah! Shit!” Jean’s skin burns furiously as his panting grows heavier, and he practically crushes Eren’s waist under his grip. But he’s all out of willpower to keep playing it cool, so his soft moans and whimpers spill right into Eren’s ear. The humiliation threatens to melt him from the inside, but the delicious pressure that Eren keeps on his dick does almost enough to counter the shame.

“D’ya wanna cum like this, Jean?” Eren asks thickly. He feels almost greedy for Jean’s orgasm — wanting to feel and smell the boy’s peak with a near-desperate urgency. But he also needs Jean to feel good — really good. Smooth as he can, he removes the hand squashed between their bodies so that Jean can rub more easily against his hips (the sensations are dangerously close to inspiring another erection in Eren) and replaces it at the small of Jean’s back, dragging it down to grip an asscheek firmly. 

He does not allow himself to picture teasing a finger inward… 

“I-I can — shit, Jean, tell me what you want…” Eren groans, driving his hips forward to meet Jean’s delicate thrusts more vigorously. 

“This — mmh, hah — this is good…” Jean slides his hands up Eren’s back and curls one of his legs around Eren’s waist to bring their bodies even closer. He leaves a trail of wet kisses along the boy’s jawline before pressing his lips onto Eren’s once again, timing each gentle caress of his mouth with the rolling of their hips. His heart pounds hard enough that he can feel it in his head, and his breathing is sharp and stuttering. “I — ahh, holy shit… I want you just like this. Fuck…”

Eren barely reacts quickly enough to grab onto Jean’s leg, pinning it in place against his hip with a bruising grip on the hamstring. It spreads Jean so erotically that Eren’s no longer threatening an erection, he’s instantly vulgarly hard. 

His mouth feels dry like he had swallowed cotton and it takes every last bit of focus in his brain (not very much to begin with but he makes do) to form something intelligible. “Okay — fuck — yeah, yeah we can… fucking hell, Jean …” His head lolls forward and lands on Jean’s collarbones as he struggles to breathe. Sometimes it’s damn near scary how easily Jean works him into a state. 

Jean’s arousal surges when he feels Eren’s strong grip on his leg. He moves one of his hands up to weave his fingers through the boy’s hair, and the nails of his other hand drag down the boy’s back as his hip thrusts pick up speed. In his frenzied pursuit of his high, he forgets his words, grunting and panting over Eren’s shoulder as sweat rolls down his back and precum streams down their stomachs. Jean feels like a feral mess and he loves it.

The constant flow of sounds pouring out of Jean’s mouth are fuel to Eren’s lust. Those delightful grunts and groans, the rapid panting of his breaths, combined with his abandon with every accelerating thrust against Eren’s lower abs — occasionally teasing his cock — all serve to drive Eren mad. 

“ Fuck , you’re so hot like this Jean — y’gonna cum on me? Y’gonna spray all over me? Mark me as yours?” He moves his lips to nibble at the sharp protruding points of Jean’s collar and then bites down on the bone — intending it to hurt enough to drag more delicious sounds from Jean’s mouth. “C’mon — fuck me up, make me all dirty with your cum — Sina , I want it…” 

The more that Eren talks, Jean becomes dizzier with lust for the boy. He lets out a strangled cry when Eren claims his collarbone with his teeth, and a burning need to claim Eren in return flares up like wildfire in his gut. “Then that’s what you’ll get, Eren,” he growls in between rough, sinful moans. “You’ll be soakin’ in my cum by the time I’m done with you… mmph! Fuck, you’ve always looked so pretty in white…”

Jean’s words hit Eren like a grapple hook to his gut — seizing him by force and ripping out his breath with dizzying speed. He literally gasps out in shock. “ Holy fuck Jean !” His hips jolt up and out, finally causing both their cocks to grind perfectly in line and the sensation against his already-sensitive cock is beyond sublime. 

“ Walls , you’re — hah — you’re gonna kill me with your s-stupid, fuckin’ smooth words, Jean!” Eren moans, the hand holding Jean’s leg squeezing even tighter (those bruises are going to look very pretty when they’re done…). 

Jean keens when Eren’s cock rubs against his own just right — this is easily one of his favorite sensations in the world. He throws his head back as he grips Eren’s shoulders and shamelessly ruts against the boy’s member, ragged breaths tumbling out of his slightly parted lips. “You’re so fuckin’ dramatic, Eren,” he chuckles in between his panting, “but somehow you make it hot as hell…”

Jean drinks in the alluring sound of Eren’s voice, leans into the tightening of Eren’s grip on his leg, and it’s enough to push him over the edge — a few more spastic hip thrusts and he’s spilling onto Eren’s cock and stomach in thick, white streams, pushing his nails deep enough into Eren’s flesh to leave marks as he moans and sighs through gritted teeth. Jean feels hot from head to toe, and he’s thoroughly worn out — he allows himself to collapse onto Eren’s body as he fights to get air back into his lungs.

After countless times of hearing Jean cum Eren feels fine-tuned to the specific pitch in his gasps and moans, knowing nearly instantly when Jean will orgasm. As soon as he begins to hear those tell-tale sounds, Eren trains his eyes down, watching with unblinking focus as Jean’s cock twitches, swells, and then spits out rope after rope of perfectly white cum. Right. On. Eren.

He was on a hair-trigger anyway, so when his orgasm is ripped out of him it’s completely expected and utterly breathtaking. Eren forces himself to keep his eyes open watching his cock markup Jean in turn with pearly, translucent spunk. 

Eren lets Jean’s leg fall down to the ground, arm painfully sore and prickling with strain, and feels himself calm down along with Jean. He drags a weak hand up to the boy’s head and rubs at his hair fondly. “Fuck that was good…” 

“So good…” Jean giggles into Eren’s shoulder as he hugs him, affectionately squeezing Eren’s waist. “We need to use that position more often, doll.”

Eren snorts, thrusting his hips gently against Jean’s to watch their cum intermingle and stretch in long sticky strands between them. It’s filthy . “Yeah… ‘s a good one.” He sighs contentedly and then mushes himself fully against Jean, not giving a rat’s ass about how sticky and tacky the embrace is. “You look so good all messed up like this — makes me wanna eat ya,” he teases, nipping at Jean’s jaw softly.

“You wanna what?” Jean raises an eyebrow, but he smiles and laughs as he turns his chin up to give Eren easier access. “Don’t turn into a titan on me, now,” he jokes as he tousles the boy’s hair.

Eren frowns at the thought, running his nose up Jean’s neck until he can bite at his ear. “I’d lick you first, not just eat you. I know how to enjoy my meals.” He can’t help sounding a little pouty; being compared to a titan was not in his top ten goals. “Sit down, lemme get ya all cleaned up.” He emphasizes his demand with a wet, almost slobbery kiss to Jean’s cheek, grinning like an imp. 

Jean tries to keep a cool, confident expression, but the blush that dusts his face and the shimmer in his golden eyes are nothing short of smitten. He returns the kiss on the cheek before shimmying off of Eren and sitting down. “You look like you’re about to do something real fuckin’ stupid,” he chuckles as he glides his fingertips down the boy’s arm. “It better get the job done, at least…”

Eren reaches over for the rag and waterskin which he had brought earlier and uncorks the bag to wet the cloth. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, Jean,” he says, utterly innocent as he closes up the water skin, rag sufficiently moistened. “I might have had, oh what does Armin call them… Oh! I might have had some intrusive thoughts just now, but —” he giggles somewhat evilly, “I’ve got a little self-control!” 

Jean gives Eren a flat, unimpressed look as he leans back on his arms and stretches out his legs. “That has got to be the least convincing thing that I’ve ever heard you say, Eren…”

The boy pouts, moving forward to start cleaning Jean’s stomach and cock. “I feel like that was pretty honest on my part!” He’s having difficulty reaching so he adjusts to straddle Jean’s thighs for ease of access … no other reason of course. “What, you want me to prove I’ve got self-control?”

Jean sways slightly under Eren’s hips but quickly stills himself. So this is how he wants to play it?

“You can prove that by getting all this cum off me before it dries up.” Jean takes the hand holding the rag and pulls it closer to his torso. “Doesn’t have to be complicated…”

Eren rolls his eyes, but does proceed to clean off whatever spunk, sweat, and spit decorates his boyfriend’s chest. He moves the rag slowly, circling over Jean’s pecs with a worshipful touch. He swipes over Jean’s nipples a few times, cheekily teasing the boy though it is mostly for his own pleasure. Still, Jean hums and chuckles at the provocative playfulness of the gesture.

“Y’know…” Eren hums thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard from a blowjob since Thomas stuck three fingers up my ass while deepthroating me… you should be proud, horseface.” 

“Huh?” Jean’s voice gets caught in his throat as the graphic scene paints itself in his mind, and his chest heaves against Eren’s hand as he chokes on his shock. “Did I really need to envision all of that, Eren?”

Eren snickers, completely aware of what image he’s planted in Jean’s mind and feeling perversely gleeful for it. He drags the cloth between Jean’s pecs and down his abs — fuck, he loves Jean’s abs… 

“Hey, it’s your mind — I’m just tryin’ to give you a compliment! Took him three whole fingers, he’s got pretty thick fingers too, and he was fuckin’ me with them real hard. Still couldn’t swallow as pretty as you did…” Eren punctuates his compliment with a chaste-ish kiss to Jean’s lips and darts away just as quickly.

Fuck, how is he always so cute when he plays coy? Jean smiles as his gaze softens while admiring the playfully sexed-up look in Eren’s eyes. It lights fires behind Jean’s amber irises, and his lips quirk up into a teasing grin.

“Heh, and I got you off that well with just my mouth…” Jean moves a hand to Eren’s hip and affectionately rubs it. “Told ya I’m a natural.”

Eren hums affirmatively and leans forward to press a longer kiss on Jean’s lips. He’ll willfully admit to being addicted to the sensation — after pining for their first kiss for well over two weeks he feels like no amount of kissing can ever make up for all that pent-up frustration, but he is willing to try anyway.

“Don’t get cocky, Jeanbo,” Eren croons as they break from the sweet kiss. “I have yet to see you get over your fear of touching me down there. You still get pink when I talk about it…” he teases wickedly. 

Jean hates his skin for turning the exact rosy shade that Eren had predicted, despite his efforts to keep cool. “Oh, fuck off,” he huffs as he casts his eyes downward. “I — I told you I’m workin’ on it, didn’t I?”

Not that Jean had any idea what he even meant by that. He makes himself think about the act around once a week but can’t hold the image in his head for more than six seconds without his stomach turning inside out, so that hardly feels like a real effort. It’s all that he can manage, though, and it’s much better than the two seconds once a month that he’d been doing previously. It’s getting him closer to a headspace in which he can really please Eren…

And after hearing that story about Thomas? Jean needs to get into that headspace yesterday.

“Whatever that means…” Eren scoffs, but he’s smiling so it is obvious that he means it in jest. He sighs happily and resumes cleaning Jean’s chest from whatever sinful remains still stain the skin. He then briskly runs the rag over his own body, doing his best to avoid extra-sensitive zones. 

Two orgasms in less than an hour wasn’t an achievement by any means, but it was a high for him. Only Jean ever took him to three — and even then, it only ever happened that one time at the lake. “Don’t worry about it, Jean,” Eren adds softly, turning to look at his boyfriend with a happy if somewhat dopey grin. “You do plenty well with what you’re workin’ with. I meant it — took Thomas a helluva lot more effort and…” He pokes Jean’s nose playfully, “you swallowed better than Floch. So you’re in the lead if that’s biting at ya.” 

“Mm, as I should be.” Jean smirks proudly at Eren before leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek, feeling a few of the small, anxious knots in his stomach loosen themselves at the confirmation that he’s still number one in Eren’s eyes. 

Eren blushes at the surprisingly sweet kiss and bats at Jean with the rag because of course he gets flustered by a chaste move like that. “D’ya think Connie will let me sleep over this time?” he asks, just because he has to , just as he does every damn night . 

“I think you already know the answer to that question…” Jean absently runs his hand over the spot where Eren had hit him with the rag, brushing the moisture off of his skin. “Connie won’t let you do anything. Either you fight him to the death for that spot or give up and keep cuddling Armin. What’ll it be tonight, Yeager?”

The delicate blush on Eren’s face darkens tellingly as he sputters, “I don’t cuddle Armin at night!” Then, realizing quickly that that wasn’t Jean’s actual question, amends, “Heh, I should fight him for it. For all I know he’s cuddling you at night!” 

Jean doesn’t hide his laughter at Eren’s unraveling composure. “Trust me — if he were, you’d already know.” He reaches up to gently tousle Eren’s hair, smiling at the pretty blush that sprawls across the boy’s face. “Still, I’d like to see you win that fight. It’d be real nice to hold you as I drift off to sleep tonight…”

Eren blinks with some surprise at Jean’s honesty. Then he jumps off the boy’s lap and starts dressing at top speed. He forgoes his change of underwear, going completely commando with his pants and not even bothering to tie a belt around his tunic. “Alright, yeah that’s it. I’ll punch Connie in the balls if that’s what it takes. Get up, I need a witness.” 

“Shit, alright!” Jean’s continued laughter ripples through his words as he hurries to get his own clothes back on. Whatever is about to go down in the barracks, he knows it’ll be a treat to witness.

***

No sooner do the boys sneak out of the outdoor supply closet and make their way to the barracks than does the sudden surprising din of boys’ voices greet their ears. Despite the looming training in the morning, most of the boys are still up and chatting in their bunks. 

Eren pulls Jean down for a brief kiss before whispering, “I’ll be back, gonna put my clothes away. You make sure Connie is ready to get his ass handed to him, yeah?”

“You got it.” 

Jean winks at Eren before making his way over to Connie, who’s tucked away in a corner with Thomas and Franz, whispering to them with an excited yet anxious look in his eyes. Jean doubts his bunkmate is discussing anything of much import though, so he inserts himself between Thomas and Franz without hesitation, throwing his arms around their shoulders and donning a cheeky grin. “Hey, what’s the big secret over here?”

Connie jumps and lets out a very unmanly squeak, but Thomas turns up to look at Jean with a big-ass grin on his face. “Hey yourself, horse-boy!” he laughs. “We were just giving Connie some —”

“No! Shut it! Fuck off Thomas! You can’t trust Jean! He’ll tell on me!” Connie jumps in, somewhat seriously frantic.

“Tell on you to who?” Jean raises an eyebrow, but that shit-eating grin remains plastered on his face. “Did you steal the Commander’s trousers or some shit?”

Franz can’t help but chuckle under his breath. “N-no, as funny as that would’ve been…”

Jean drops his arms and nudges Franz in the side with his elbow. “Yeah? Then what?”

“Franz. Zip. It.” Connie mimes zipping his lips shut but while his eyes are intense, he’s blushing so brightly the heat feels palpable in the room. 

Thomas snorts, “C’mon, Connie. Jean won’t say anything to her.” 

“Her?” Jean starts laughing out loud. “You’re talking about a girl and you’re freakin’ out like you need to hide a body? Shit, Connie!”

Franz sighs and shakes his head. “It’s his first crush, Jean; you could stand to be a little nicer to him about it…”

Connie groans and buries his face in his hands. “ Guys …” 

“Hey, we’re all friends here, Connie. You haven’t got a thing to worry about. If anything…” Thomas glances at Jean with a grin. “I think Jean would make a great wingman for ya.” 

Jean’s face straightens as he turns to Thomas. “Look, man, Connie went to you two for that. You don’t get to volunteer me for shit like that.”

“But you would be great at it,” Franz insists. “And, y’know, I kinda have my hands full right now, so…”

“Nope! Fuck off both of you. I don’t need a damn wingman! And if I did I wouldn’t use Jean ! He’s just gonna make me look like a total weirdo,” Connie spits, mildly teasing but also genuine. 

“You are a weirdo, Connie,” Thomas snorts. “That’s why she’ll like you. Heck, it’s probably the only reason she likes you.” Yawning suddenly, Thomas stretches his arms out and stands up. “I’m gonna head to bed. You just think about what we told ya earlier, yeah? Don’t freak out so much, Con.” 

“Yeah, just be yourself, man.” Franz gives Connie a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning and waving at him and the others. “Hope you guys sleep well!”

Jean returns the smile and wave as Thomas and Franz move toward their cots, but when he pivots back to face Connie, his expression is nothing but devious. “So… when are you plannin’ to put the moves on her, hm?”

“Oh fuck off, Jean…” Connie laughs, pink-cheeked and somewhat embarrassed. “I don’t have moves to put on her. And it doesn’t matter — she doesn’t see me that way. S’fine really, I’m just happy to be her friend.” 

Jean can hear the despondence in Connie’s voice, and it sounds so wrong that part of him wants to slap the boy to see if it’ll get him back in working order. “You sure about that?” he asks with only a slightly teasing tone. “If it were me, I’d find her another good stash of meat and I’m sure she’d be droolin’ for me in no time.”

Connie does not pick up at first on Jean’s very clear hint, instead brightening up at the idea. “Oh, wait, that’s actually not a bad —” Then he does. “EH!?” He turns a perfect crimson and launches himself at Jean, grabbing his collar and shaking him. “How did you — who told you?” he demands wildly.

“You did, just now.” Jean grabs Connie’s wrists and squeezes them hard; Connie loosens his grip, and Jean can pry the boy’s hands off of him. “You aren’t friends like that with any other girl in the whole corps. Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

Connie doesn’t even have a chance to respond because suddenly two hands land heavily on his shoulders and he’s being bodily thrown backwards by a somewhat annoyed Eren.

“The hell you doin’ puttin’ your greedy hands on my man, Connie?” Eren says, only half-joking, folding his arms in front of him and squinting at the buzz-cut kid.

Jean had been so absorbed in messing with Connie that Eren’s interruption catches him off guard, but he finds the boy’s possessive aggression to be so charming that he doesn’t feel one bit bad for laughing at Connie as he stumbles. “Hey, Eren,” he says to the boy with a smile. “Took ya long enough.”

Eren tosses Jean a smirk over his shoulder. “Armin held me up — wanted my opinion on his paper for next week. But I’m here now.” He turns back to Connie and rolls up his sleeves. “And I’mma fight you for that bed-spot Connie. You’ve cock-blocked me enough.”

Connie, although caught off guard at first, bursts out laughing at Eren’s adamance and rolls up his own sleeves. “Oh you wanna fight for it, Yeager?” he teases, adopting a loose fighting stance. “Come at me! I’m not about to sacrifice a peaceful night’s rest for all your moaning and bitching.” 

Jean holds his forehead as he snickers at Connie’s form. “Is that really the stance you wanna go with, man?”

“Hey!” Eren hisses. “Whose side are you on, man?” He doesn’t wait for Connie to correct his form and instead levels one of his stronger roundhouse kicks at the boy. Connie surprisingly dodges it by dropping to the floor and swiping his leg under Eren’s, hooking his ankle and tripping him rather easily. It’s the boy’s weakest point, and Annie rather revealed it during practice… multiple times. 

“Ha!” Connie jeers, getting up on his feet.

Jean lunges forward to catch Eren in his arms before he hits the ground. “I’m on your side, dumbass!” he chuckles as he strokes the boy’s forearm. “Now hurry up and finish him!” Jean sets Eren upright again and pushes him by the shoulders toward Connie.

Eren uses the extra momentum to twist his hips sideways, dodging the admittedly weak kick Connie sent at him, and then using one of Jean’s moves to deliver a powerful front-kick right at the boy’s sternum, sending him careening backwards onto the floor — much to the collective gasp of some onlooking cadets from their bunks.

Eren lowers his fists from their defensive position as he walks over to make sure he hadn’t properly hurt the other boy. Instead of being knocked out or groaning however, Connie is laughing. 

“Fuckin’ hell man!” he gasps between chuckles. “You wanna sleep with Jean that bad?”

Jean puts a hand on his hip as he smirks down at Connie. “So what if he does? Not my fault my dick is just that good.”

Eren blushes but helps Connie up to his feet. Connie meanwhile gives Jean a look between impressed and mildly disturbed. “Damn, Jean. Eren’s rubbed off on you in more than one way…” 

“Heh… yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jean’s eyes darken mischievously as he looks back at Connie. “So unless you’re tryna get caught in the middle of the action, I suggest you find yourself somewhere else to sleep tonight, yeah?”

Connie blushes and hides his unidentifiable reaction with a cough. “Right. Well, in that case, lemme get my blanket and pillow — I don’t need Eren’s spunk on my sheets.” Ignoring Eren’s flustered and defensive response, he slips behind the two boys and shimmies up the ladder to retrieve said items. 

Eren meanwhile turns to look at Jean and his reaction is not hidden at all. There’s triumph of course, but under that there’s a very clear and evident lust flickering behind his green eyes. And it’s that emotion which swallows the tone of his voice when he slips up to Jean and places his hands on the boy’s chest. “I really fuckin’ like it when you get cocky… It’s a damn sexy look on you, baby.” 

Jean blushes and rubs the small of Eren’s back in turn. “And I love how hard you’re willin’ to fight for me, darling.” He presses a soft kiss to Eren’s forehead. “You’re adorable when you get all worked up like that.”

Eren huffs, his ears turning pink as he hides his face in Jean’s chest. Connie slides down the ladder and ruins the moment by smashing his pillow at the back of Eren’s head. “Walls, you guys are gross! I can understand the sex, but now y’all are worse than Reiner and Bertholdt!” 

Eren doesn’t move from Jean’s chest and instead just gives Connie the very eloquent response of a middle finger.

Jean doesn’t do much better — he rolls his eyes and waves Connie away with his free hand. “If you hate it that much then get lost already…”

Over Connie’s shoulder, Jean sees Armin approach them, carrying a bundle of pillows and blankets in his arms. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to call out to someone — probably Eren, Jean guesses — but the words seem to die on the tip of his tongue once he sees the two of them in each other’s arms. 

Connie sticks his tongue out at Eren — it doesn’t really matter that the boy isn’t even looking — and then turns around to see Armin as well. “Oh well, well, look who’s lucky!” he jeers. “Eren, Armin brought your shit over so you don’t have to do the walk of shame!” 

At the mention of Armin’s name Eren pops his head up from Jean’s chest, glancing around until he finds the boy hovering somewhat awkwardly a few meters away. He grins and pulls back from Jean slowly. “Aw, hey, thanks Armin,” he says, stretching out a hand to receive the bundle.

“It’s no problem,” Armin replies as he hands it over with a small smile. “Uh… should I be worried about what Connie’s talking about or is everything okay?”

Eren giggles boyishly as he pulls the bundle against his chest. “Nah, we were just playing. You should be more worried about Connie keeping you up with his bear-snores.” 

“I don’t snore!” Connie yells from somewhere.

So I did hear Connie correctly… Armin doesn’t have the energy to be sad about what that means for his sleeping arrangements tonight, so he tries his best to take solace in the fact that his inference skills are still sharp. But he finds it rather difficult to think logically right now while looking into Eren’s gleeful eyes. He’d been longing to see Eren this happy for longer than he cares to remember, but Sina, just not quite like this…

“Oh… then, I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, Eren?”

“Yeup!” Eren gives Armin a salacious wink. “Just not quite on the other side of your bed, Minnie.” 

“Goodness…” The tips of Armin’s ears turn bright red as he giggles in spite of himself. He immediately chokes on that laughter the moment he notices Jean’s darkening eyes on him. “What’s so funny?” Jean half-teases, half-threatens the blond as his hand instinctively moves back to Eren’s hip and squeezes it tight.

“N-nothing important.” Armin starts backing away from the two boys before he even registers what his feet are doing. “Sleep well, okay Eren?”

“Oi, wait Armin!” Eren tosses his bundle of blankets and pillows up onto the top bunk before reaching out with an arm to yank Armin to him in a tight embrace. Though he’s very excited to sleep with Jean — hell, he’d been wanting to do it for months now — he’s also rather nervous to leave Armin. 

The two of them have slept together since they were boys, never more than an inch of space between them, never further than a hairspan’s reach when needed. To be away from Armin, even for a night… it’s much more painful than Eren expected. 

The hug tightens and he can’t help but whisper against Armin’s ear, too quiet for Jean to hear, “If — if you get nightmares, you’ll come to me yeah? No matter what?”

Eren’s question melts the tension that had been building up in Armin’s entire body — he forgets about Jean’s wrathful gaze and everything else around him, finally feeling safe enough to wrap his arms around Eren in turn. “I will,” he whispers back, silently cursing his voice for trembling. “Thanks for that, Eren.”

Eren pulls back a little to smile at Armin, pushing his blond hair to the side as he presses a soft kiss to one of his cheeks. “Of course. You know I love you.” 

Armin’s blush deepens and his heart flutters at the gesture. Before he can lose his nerve — before the very slim window of opportunity can pass him by — he leans forward and kisses Eren’s cheek, briefly and gingerly. “I love you too,” he murmurs before scurrying off to his cot.

Eren watches him go with a soft smile on his face, then he turns back to Jean and is somewhat amused to see the boy look utterly astonished if not baffled by their exchange. Instead of explaining, Eren just takes one of Jean’s hands into his own and gives him a tender look. “Let’s get to bed, yeah?”

The sweetness of Eren’s touch sands down the sharp edges of Jean’s jealousy and confusion. He weaves his fingers in between Eren’s and takes a breath before pulling the boy into a gentle hug. “Yeah, let’s get our rest,” he whispers into Eren’s hair.

Eren tips his head up to playfully kiss Jean’s chin but pushes away before he can tempt himself with more. He moves to the ladder instead and starts clambering his way up the steps, slightly unused to it as his previous cot with Armin had been a bottom bunk. Halfway up he sends Jean a grin. “Betcha likin’ the view from down there, huh?”

“You’re an insufferable tease, you know that?” Jean shakes his head and grins as he lightly slaps Eren’s ass twice with the palm of his hand. “The sooner you get up there the sooner I can join you.”

Eren giggles like an imp and jumps the rest of the way up in one smooth leap. He pokes his head over the edge to watch Jean’s progress, finding it too slow for his liking, and stretches down a hand to offer a speedier way up. “C’mon then, slow-poke!” 

Jean takes Eren’s hand and pulls himself the rest of the way up to his cot, landing rather clumsily on top of the boy. He makes no hurry to move himself off of Eren, though, laughing as he lazily rubs the boy’s chest.

Eren’s eyes flutter a little at the sensation and he gives Jean a half-lidded, soft look from under his lashes. Unintentionally seductive, though really he’s just a bit sleepy. “Y’wanna be big spoon or little spoon?” 

That look makes Jean dizzy with desire — but he resists the urge to get lost in that feeling, or else he and Eren won’t get a wink of sleep tonight. “Is that even a question?” he huffs with a click of his tongue as he slides off of Eren and wraps his arms around the boy’s hips, pulling Eren flush against him.

Eren laughs quietly as he shuffles in Jean’s embrace, purposefully pressing his ass back to be as provocative as possible. He turns to look over his shoulder at Jean and uses one hand to guide the boy down into a kiss. The angle is slightly awkward so he doesn’t lengthen the kiss as long as he would like, instead using that same hand to work up into Jean’s hair and massage his scalp. 

“Of course it is, just ‘cause you’re taller doesn’t mean you always gotta be the big spoon. I can hold you too…” His voice trails off to a whisper towards the end of his sentence — he’s rather distracted by the faint gloss on Jean’s lips from their kiss.

For a moment, Jean himself is too caught up in the intensity of Eren’s admiring stare to respond. Once his mind finally catches up and he starts envisioning the position reversal, his stomach promptly swarms with butterflies. “You — ahem — you don’t have to do all that,” he stammers as he runs a hand over Eren’s thigh. “Isn’t it easier this way because I’m taller?”

Sometimes Jean’s stammering and his bashfulness around their relationship makes Eren feel positively sick in love. He wants nothing more than to squeeze the ever-loving-daylight out of Jean. He takes a deep breath and then turns around in Jean’s arms so that they are chest to chest and he can wrap his arms around the boy. He also slips a leg between Jean’s but that’s inconsequential, really; he doesn’t quite plan on using that leverage yet. 

“How’s this?” he whispers against Jean’s collarbones, letting his lips brush against the skin with the words. 

Feeling Eren’s arms around him warms Jean’s entire body; he sighs softly into Eren’s hair as his hold on the boy tightens. “This is… yeah, feels really nice.” He kisses the top of the boy’s head and then barely audibly whispers: “Thanks, Eren.”

Jean’s soft words brush over Eren’s hair and he smiles into Jean’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart with a bone-deep sensation of safety. He noses up a little to press his lips under Jean’s jaw, and then gives in and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s a relatively chaste kiss and Eren pulls away slowly, luxuriating in the sensation. He smiles and whispers back: “I love you…” 

Jean’s lips curl into a stupidly smitten smile that he’s far too tired to bother suppressing. He returns Eren’s slow, tender kiss on the lips and then quickly, sweetly pecks the tip of Eren’s nose. He would spend the whole night peppering Eren’s face with these affections if he could, but sleep is steadily creeping up on him, so before he fully surrenders to it, he presses his forehead against Eren’s and whispers:

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

They’re late. They’re late and there’s Uniform Inspection at seven. Eren and Jean barely get out of bed in time thanks to a couple of pillows tossed at them from their ass-saving friends, but even then it takes all of their combined efforts to get into clean uniforms, shuck on their gearbelts, and out dash to the field. 

The other cadets are not yet at attention, but the rows are formed and both Eren and Jean have to squeeze into the last row. 

Eren turns to his side and starts to redo his thigh belts, finding that somehow one of the straps had been twisted. “Oh fuck. Shitshitshit…” 

Jean feels a little bit bad for chuckling, but he can’t help it — Eren is and always will be a fucking idiot and it’s entertaining. “Whoa, how the hell did you even twist it like that?”

Eren grows more and more panicked as he follows the twist around his thigh and down his leg to his calf, the twist following his fingers. “I don’t fucking know! Shit, he won’t ask us to take off our boots right?”

“I don’t know… he might, though…” Jean reaches over and pats Eren on the back. “Just get your shit together before he notices and it won’t be a problem, yeah?”

Eren gives Jean a glare that morphs into a pout. “Don’t be so mean , Jean!” Grinning suddenly, he pulls off his boot and shoves it into Jean’s hand, holding onto the boy for balance as he works the twist down his calf and under his foot. “Well, now he won’t see it even if he does make me take off my damn boot!” Eren swipes the boot from Jean and shoves his foot back into it. “Thanks for being such a supportive boyfriend, really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem…” Jean rolls his eyes and laughs as he shoves Eren’s shoulder. “I don’t recall giving you permission to lean on me like I’m a fuckin’ desk or something…”

Eren huffs and opens his mouth with what would have been a surely brilliant retort, but he’s rudely interrupted by the horn blast sounding off the start of inspection. Quick as a whip, the entire Cadet Corps straightens into an at-ease position, and all chattering completely falls away (or becomes quiet enough to ignore). 

The call for attention does not come yet as Shadis has yet to make his appearance, but the nervous run of energy keeps all the kids on their toes in preparation for his harsh barking command. 

Eren turns to Jean and chews his lower lip thoughtfully. “Y’think inspection’s gonna be long this time?”

“Tch, it’s long every time — there are like three hundred of us here.” Jean’s eyes settle on Eren’s face. “You gotta be somewhere this morning?”

Eren rolls his eyes but his face pinches with some identifiable discomfort. “No, duh. Just wish I had a min’ to use the bathroom before we’re gonna stand like the damn Walls for two hours.” 

In unison, Jean’s stomach flips and his heart skips a beat; his stifled laughter trembles with anxious excitement. “So that’s your problem? Sucks to be you, then — the Commander’ll skin you alive if you leave the lineup.”

 “We’re not at attention yet —” Eren starts and gets his instant serving of karma when a familiar bellow yells out the command. He snaps into position automatically (arms straight by his sides, legs together, feet at a 45 degree angle, thumbs at the line of his trousers) — at this point the move is ingrained into each cadet past consciousness — but it’s also clear that he’s not quite comfortable.

Jean assumes the same position, but instead of looking straight ahead as he’s supposed to, his eyes are still trained on Eren, watching the muscles in the boy’s face, arms, and legs twitch ever so slightly as he works hard to maintain his composure. The sight of all that effort makes Jean’s throat run dry, as does the thought of how it’s only going to get harder for Eren from here on out…

“Time starts now,” Jean whispers with a devious smirk. “Good luck, Eren.”

Eren grits his teeth and sends Jean a glare. “Jerk.” He hears the call for parade rest get passed by the squad leaders and feels much less at ease with the position than with the stiffness of his previous attention pose. His arms fold easily at the small of his back, and his legs are spread exactly shoulder width apart when he wants nothing more than to squeeze his thighs together.

The urge hadn’t been so bad five minutes ago. But now it’s all he can think about. The not-so ignorable pressure swallows his every brain function and Eren starts rocking slightly on his heels, shutting his eyes as he concentrates on not feeling like he needs to pee . 

Jean really feels like being a menace now, so he chuckles as loudly as he can get away with. “It’s that bad already? What, did you drink the whole lake last night, idiot?”

“Not. Helping. Jean,” Eren hisses. He makes a considerable effort to stop his rocking motions but the anxious energy has to go somewhere . So he turns his head to give Jean a menacing look. “Why are you enjoying this so much, huh?” 

Jean wishes he knew the answer to that question. It’s such a weird and random thing to be getting this worked up over, he thinks, but it’s a part of him now, and he certainly doesn’t mind how the sparks of arousal feel as they float through his body. “It’s because you’re my archnemesis, duh. So of course I enjoy seeing you struggle.”

Eren can’t really hold in his snort of amusement, even as he turns back to face forward, and it rather destroys the ‘I’m-angry-at-you-stop-teasing-me’ vibe he’d been going for. “Pft, now you’re just lying to yourself, horse-face. You just like seeing me suffer because you’re a damn sadist.” A sudden cramp of need takes Eren by surprise and he hisses in a breath when he barely clamps down in time. Note to self: don’t relax too much …

Jean’s face flushes at the sight of Eren’s heightened discomfort, and a satisfied sigh slips through his widening smirk. “Can’t those two things be true at the same time?” he asks teasingly, his tone dark and husky. “You put up a real good struggle, and you look so pretty doin’ it…”

Only after Jean speaks does it click for Eren and he almost loses his composure completely as he swivels his face to stare at Jean incredulously. “You — you’re gettin’ off on this?” His cheeks burn pink and he’s certain that he’s not the only one who can feel the heat. 

That priceless look of shock on Eren’s face sends Jean’s heart racing; he tightens his grip on his forearms behind his back, holding Eren’s gaze daringly, ravenously. “And what if I am? Got a problem with it, you little brat?”

Eren swallows, the heat from his face now popping up in his stomach and twisting it viciously. He tips his weight from one foot to the other and feels something other than the urge to pee in his groin. He’s suddenly aware that it rather helps his situation, but it’s risky… he doesn’t want to be caught wetting his pants by the Commander. But he’s not all too sure that being caught with a boner is any better. 

He turns his gaze away from Jean’s magnetic stare and clears his throat. “Pervert.”

“Look who’s talking,” Jean snipes back, but all the edge in his voice is softened by the sudden breathiness of his tone. He clears his throat and swallows, hoping that Eren doesn’t notice the growing redness of his face but of course the boy will — he knows Eren won’t take his eyes off of him for more than a passing moment. Sometimes he still can’t believe that he has that kind of pull on Eren, and that knowledge ties his stomach into knots as he struggles not to pitch a tent in his pants where the Commander and all of the surrounding cadets could see it.

Speaking of whom, Jean peers over the heads of the other cadets and can just make out the Commander’s imposing frame towering over the poor unprepared souls in one of the very front rows. Progress is slow, as he’d anticipated it would be. He looks back at Eren rocking back and forth on his feet, and Jean wonders if Eren will be able to keep up with his teasing for eighteen more rows.

Well, only one way to find out.

“By the way,” Jean whispers to him, “I like the way your hips move when you dance like that. It’s really cute.”

True to form, Eren can’t stop himself from looking at Jean — moreso when he says things like that . “Fucking Walls , Jean!” Eren hisses, his blush now punishingly hot on his face. “Are you trying to make me hard?” He takes a deep steadying breath that is much more shaky than he would like to admit, and retrains his eyes forward, determined not to look at Jean and equally determined not to listen to his stupid smooth fucking words. 

Only… the urge to piss has gotten past the point where he can easily ignore it. It’s becoming quite the opposite of easy, and as much as Eren hates to admit it, he’s losing the battle of hiding how bad it’s getting. 

The subtle rocking isn’t so subtle anymore. The flush on his cheeks is not fully due to Jean’s teasing, and his poker-face is closer to an aroused grimace. The sensation of urgency is not all bad, and had he not been standing at attention during a routine inspection, Eren might have even enjoyed it. 

Jean shivers as he watches Eren’s composure slowly unravel; he damn near crushes his forearms under his own grip while fighting the urge to reach over and torture Eren further with teasing touches. He can no longer easily ignore the heat pooling in his gut, and he prays that it doesn’t turn into an embarrassing physical display of his arousal any time soon — but he’s having so much fun with this little game of theirs that such worries grow more distant with each passing second. 

“Be honest: you wouldn’t really mind that much if I got you hard right now, would you? You like that I can get you all hot and bothered with just my words…”

“Yes I would!” Eren spits defensively, perhaps a bit too defensively. His voice is a bit higher than normal, and it just further embarasses him — sure he knows how hard it’s becoming to rein in his need, but Jean doesn’t need to know that. “I like it when we’re not gonna get fucking inspected by Commander — can you imagine the shit I’d get if he caught me with a — a fucking tent in my trousers?” 

“No, no I can’t,” Jean chuckles as he shamelessly traces Eren’s swaying, twitching frame from top to bottom. “Guess you’ll find out the hard way once he gets here, heheh.”

Eren winces at the thought. “Well you don’t have to make my job any more difficult…” he grumbles. The persistent need to piss is beginning to make him a bit worried. He hadn’t given much thought to what might happen if he did lose control because it seemed impossible. But they were hardly ten minutes into inspection and Eren was starting to reconsider his calculation as to how long he could actually go. 

He’s never been in such a predicament before — it’s almost comedic really, if he had half a mind for comedy at the moment — so he’s unsure, and frankly scared, that he might actually piss himself. 

“Jean… how much trouble will I be in if I leave to piss right now?”

Jean looks off to the side, pretending to be deep in thought for a moment. “Well, none if he doesn’t catch you,” he starts, and then he moves his gaze back onto Eren, dark and mischievous. “But odds are he will catch you, and you might get the stocks for leaving a whole-group assembly against orders. So you’re probably better off staying put, yeah?”

“ Shit …” Eren hisses. His hand tightens over his forearm enough to hurt and he closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath in. He lets it go shakily and feels…

He feels like he’s about to piss himself. 

“Shit. Jean… Jean I think I might actually piss myself if I don’t go…” Eren hates how scared his voice is, and hates how high it is too. He sounds like a fucking kid and damn it , he’s selling the part too with his now unignorable potty-dance (restrained as it is with his efforts of maintaining parade-rest). 

Jean’s breath hitches, and he bites down hard on his lip as he turns positively red. He can hear the genuine panic in Eren’s voice, and for a moment he feels like a real asshat for getting so profoundly turned on by it. He takes a breath to ground himself, and he remembers that they’re out in public and not in the gear-shed, so something has to be done about Eren reaching his limit. 

He looks back over the heads of the cadets and finds the Commander leisurely strolling through only the third or fourth row. At this pace, Jean feels like he could run a whole lap around the compound before the Commander makes it to the last row. Surely he could duck out of here with Eren for five minutes and make it back before anyone important notices, right?

Jean breaks parade-rest to put a hand on Eren’s arm and gently squeeze it. “You wanna make a break for it, then?”

Did he? Eren bites the inside of his cheek. On the one hand, if he is caught leaving formation during a formal inspection, the punishment wouldn’t be so light as shoveling horse-shit at the stables. This is an assessment for the Corps; leaving in the middle is a surefire way of getting the stocks, like Jean had said. Or worse, but not unheard of, a public flogging if the Commander is really pissed. 

That would be much worse than being caught wetting himself, right? Eren glances up to the front rows and sees the Commander still halfway through the third row. He glances to his left, just past Jean, at their row’s squad leader and makes unfortunate eye contact. He doesn’t know the cadet, but they look pissed and terrified. 

They would tattle. Absolutely. Eren straightens up and looks at Jean determinedly. “I’ll hold it. I can do it.” 

Jean nods at Eren as he releases the boy and returns to parade-rest — he doesn’t trust his voice to remain level while thoughts of Eren’s self-inflicted torture dries his throat and quickens his breaths. He tries to keep his gaze straight ahead to show Eren that he’s not a total monster, but he can’t resist the temptation to sneak peeks at the boy every few seconds, relishing the barely contained sounds of his strain and the look of resolve on his face that’s tainted by flecks of doubt and panic.

Jean is sure that he’s going to hell for this but damn it all, Eren looks too pretty like this and watching him feels so good.

The first minute goes by almost without a hitch. Eren’s bull-headed audacity seems to shrink his desperation down to something manageable. 

The second minute is not so smooth. Eren feels like time is crawling by, and all he can concentrate on is not letting go . But since all his focus is on keeping his bladder under control, all his focus is, by proxy, on his damn bladder. 

And fuck all three Walls because he is not doing very well. At first it starts with hissed breaths as waves of need make him shiver… then those breaths become whimpers when he has to forcibly clamp down at the high-tide of those waves. 

And then it becomes so bad that he — oh god no . “Jean…” Eren thinks his voice sounds a bit odd — rather flat for all the panic in his mind. “Jean, am I leaking?”

Jean forgets all modesty, and his gaze snaps onto Eren. He looks down at the boy’s crotch, and to his shock (and twisted delight), he finds a small but steadily growing wet spot darkening the boy’s trousers between his legs. “Yeah, you are,” Jean replies quietly, his voice trembling as his thoughts spiral with perverse desire.

Slowly, and while keeping his eyes locked forward, Eren breaks parade-rest and uses one hand to grip himself; his other arm stays locked behind his back. Nevermind that there are thirteen other cadets in their row, nevermind that the Commander is now halfway through row four. 

“I — I don’t think I can hold it, Jean…” Eren croaks. Then he turns his gaze to Jean and sees the state of the other boy. He is so flabbergasted by the clear lust in Jean’s eyes that for a moment he forgets his utter embarrassment and instead feels his mouth drop open a little. “Jean?” 

The taller boy is so consumed by the heat of his arousal that he only reacts to his name the second time, startling at Eren’s focused, incredulous stare. He hurriedly looks away and bites the inside of his lip as his ears start to burn. “Fuck — shit — whattaya wanna do, Eren?” he hisses breathlessly through his teeth. “Are we gonna keep standing here like this or what?”

Shock at Jean’s obvious arousal is promptly forgotten when Eren actually feels himself spurt a bit more than a little leak. He can almost envision the wet streak crawling over the heat that decorates his inner thighs. The white trousers don’t quite darken as obviously as pigmented clothes, but they get more translucent with water (or piss in this case) and it is not something easily missed.

Against better judgment though… Eren wants to see Jean get more flustered. He had no idea that Jean would be into his desperation, but now that he sees it firsthand, he can’t just let it go. 

Fuck it, if he’s going to embarass himself publicly at least he can enjoy it! 

Carefully, he rearranges his hand back to parade-rest and forces himself to clamp down harder. “We’re gonna keep standing here,” Eren states, and he’s proud of how steady his voice is, “until you pop a boner or I get caught wetting myself.” He turns his head slightly to look at Jean and gives him a cocky smirk. “Unless you’re a coward and wanna run.”

“Fuck you, Eren…” Jean grits his teeth and keeps his eyes locked on the boy, just to prove that he isn’t chicken, but Walls it is so difficult for him to watch Eren’s piss slowly soak the boy’s trousers in a visably wet line and keep himself stock-still. He tries to take slow, deep breaths, but it takes an embarrassing amount of effort to keep his exhalations from sounding too much like the moans and sighs that he’s suppressing.

Eren shuffles a bit, trying to gauge just how badly he’s wet himself so far and is somewhat relieved to feel only a bit of warm wetness down his inner right thigh; at least the pressure isn’t killing him now. He turns his focus forward again and breathes out slowly.

“I wish you would…”

Those words make Jean ache for the feeling of Eren’s skin on his own, and a soft, needy sigh escapes him before he can catch it. He purses his lips and coughs awkwardly in a vain attempt to disguise it. The heat in his gut swirls and churns as memories from the supply closet last night spring into his head, one by one, beautiful and tantalizing and seriously testing the limits of his self control.

Eren peeks at Jean and feels his stomach swoop like his grapple slipped after a launch. The expression on Jean’s face is fucking beautiful . He’s struggling, that much is obvious, but Jean struggles with a look of fierce concentration — agonized and severe and so so incredibly hot. 

Eren swallows thickly and retrains his eyes forward. “Y’hard?” he whispers faintly.

“Like hell I am,” Jean hisses, but he can feel that that might not be true for much longer. His breathing starts to stutter, and his fingers fidget with the sleeves of his jacket behind his back.

“Well —” Eren says slowly. “We gotta fix that then…” He rocks on his heels a bit and then turns his face slightly to Jean. “Look at me,” he orders quietly.

As much as Jean hates to admit it to himself, that low, commanding tone of Eren’s voice is doing things to him, and he can’t really say that he finds them unpleasant. Not by a long shot. Jean swallows another pathetic whimper that wants to crawl out of his throat and slowly turns his eyes back to Eren.

“Good boy,” Eren says softly, almost encouragingly. He’s vibrating with the effort of holding back, so when he says his next line (preplanned of course, he had an objective here) he struggles to deliver it firmly. “Now, look at my cock.”

Jean knows he should be humiliated by Eren talking to him like he’s a fucking dog, but he’s just too mesmerized by Eren’s shocking return to composure after having almost fallen apart mere minutes ago. “What, you gonna whip it out right here?” he jokes as he moves his gaze lower.

“No. But definitely gonna do something stupid as fuck. So I’d like an audience.” Eren says breathily. Then he shuts his eyes and fully relaxes his bladder. 

The first thing he feels is relief — and it’s the sweetest fucking feeling he’s ever felt. It’s so damn good that he doesn’t even hear the hiss of his release, the subsequent loud pattering as some of his piss goes straight down his trousers and onto the sand. Most crawls down his right leg and into his boot but there’s a very telling, very much growing , and very much noisy puddle right between his spread legs.

“Eren what the fuck are you — !” 

Jean can’t even finish the sentence — his voice gives out on him, and his mouth hangs open uselessly as he watches Eren wet his trousers and soak the ground beneath him. He feels impossibly hot, and his muscles tremble with the almost fruitless effort of keeping himself still. He knows that he needs to look away immediately if he wants any hope of retaining his dignity here. 

But Sina, Rose, and Maria, he is weak. And the sound of Eren’s faint whimpers punctuating the dripping sounds of his piss into the growing puddle in the sand, all of it is pushing Jean over the edge.

The stream cuts off suddenly, sputters, starts again, and then tapers off completely. Only then does Eren open his eyes, and he’s so damn high on the relief of finally letting go, that he’s rather sure his face is making something of a dopey post-sex expression when he turns to Jean. “Oops…” he says innocently.

Jean’s eyes are drawn upward to Eren’s face, and he struggles and fails to stifle another moan when he sees the boy’s suggestive expression. “Holy shit, you’re a fuckin’ lunatic Eren,” he huffs, holding the boy’s gaze and hoping that Eren finds it captivating enough not to check his crotch, where he feels an ever-increasing tightness that pushes against his trousers.

Eren’s smile is almost pornographic in how obviously it reveals his orgasmic relief, and his eyes darken with equal lasciviousness. “You like it, Jean. Can’t hide that from me, baby.” He lolls his head back and his gaze breaks from Jean’s eyes to dart down to his crotch — the resulting smirk he gives Jean is a perfect mix of smug and aroused. 

Jean knows that nobody else’s eyes are on his groin except for Eren’s at this moment, but a small part of him still wants to punch Eren’s lights out for pulling this stunt and putting his boner on full display like this — where he can’t break parade-rest to cover it. 

The rest of him is too wrapped up in the sultry look on Eren’s face, the enticing sound of Eren’s voice, the familiarly pungent smell of Eren’s piss on his clothes — too busy drowning in the boy’s chaotic, filthy, powerful allure. 

“Alright,” he sighs, “you got me. Proud of yourself?”

Eren blinks and blushes darkly as he seemingly starts to come back from whatever nirvana he had been in previously. He glances down and sees the extremely obvious dark puddle between his legs and is instantly embarrassed, shocked at his own fucking nerve, and mildly impressed because — it wasn’t a small puddle by any means. “Proud? Not so much right now, closer to uh — really fucking freaked out,” he laughs weakly.

“No kidding…” Jean shakes his head and blinks a few times himself; his heart drops when the debauched scene in front of him doesn’t disappear and reality properly settles in his head. “I don’t know how the fuck you’re gonna talk your way outta this one.”

Eren spots the Commander at the seventh row, still yelling at each cadet with the same energy as he had the first one (the man was dedicated, had to give him that much), and Eren feels nothing short of dread at the inevitable confrontation. 

He thinks he can hear the row in front of him and Jean whispering too. Well, he’s not new to rumors — embarrassing or otherwise. Subtly as he can, Eren spreads his legs a bit wider before trying to kick a bit of dust over the puddle. It doesn’t really do much.

“Shit. I’m fucked…”

If looks could kill, then the two cadets snickering to each other in front of Jean would be dead right about now. He desperately wishes for time to move faster so that they can be dismissed and he and Eren can make a beeline for the shower room — get Eren nice and clean, and then get him on his knees to take care of Jean’s now-raging boner.

As pretty as the image is, it’s making the strain between his legs exponentially worse, so he has to put it away for now and keep breathing through his confusing mix of arousal and secondhand embarrassment.

Time crawls by at a snail’s pace and Eren keeps his lips sealed in a tight line. He’s uncomfortably wet now, and the piss in his right boot is really selling his humiliation. 

Over an hour passes by, enough time that the sun has practically dried his trousers, leaving only an uncomfortable stiffness to the fabric. Even the sand dries up. If it weren’t for Eren’s lingering embarrassment, the not-so-subtle glances and smirks from other cadets, and a faint but extant smell of urine — he might have gotten away with it.

The Commander finally stands in front of Jean and gives the boy a grim look. “Name and rank?” he spits (clearly an hour and a half of inspection wears his patience rather thin). 

Jean instinctively straightens his posture as he salutes the Commander. “Jean Kirstein, rank six, sir!” he shouts, keeping his frenzied eyes locked on a spot straight ahead of himself.

“Tch, rank six, and yet in the back row? Did you come late, Kirstein?” the Commander mocks, circling Jean to inspect his jacket and then his belts.

“I — I overslept, sir…” The start of his day feels like it happened ages ago, and Jean can’t shake that disorientation from the tone of his voice. “It won’t happen again, sir!”

The Commander comes around Jean and glares at him. “Why do I have a hard time believing that shit?” he asks rather redundantly. He turns to the short assistant with a clipboard and gives them a quick look. “Uniform is standard; belts slightly loose; the metal needs polishing — take down two points for that.” With another quick look at Jean that could be described as uninterested but is more menacing than anything else, he moves on to Eren. “Give him a pass.”

Eren jumps into a salute as soon as the Commander steps in front of him with the same question that he’d posed to Jean. “Eren Yeager, rank seven, sir!” 

Jean hears the slight tremor in Eren’s voice and winces at the sight of the fist on his chest shaking. He fears that if the Commander shouts too loud then Eren might shatter where he stands.

“Ah rank seven this month, Yeager? Lose to Kirstein again? Always neck and neck with you two idiots,” the Commander remarks as he starts to circle Eren. He freezes suddenly, three-quarters around the boy, and stares at the ground near Eren’s right boot. 

Eren’s face is red enough to mimic a poppy and he’s fully shaking now.

Please don’t notice, please don’t notice, please…

“Yeager. Care to explain the state of your trousers?” Shadis’ voice is a mix of incredulous, irritated, and downright intimidating.

“Ah — I —” Eren’s voice cracks tellingly. “No, sir!” 

Jean clenches his jaw harder — he can’t blame Eren for giving that answer, but he also knows it’s the wrong answer to be giving a hardass like the Commander.

“Really? You don’t care to explain why it looks like you fucking pissed yourself like a damn toddler?” the Commander drawls, moving to stand in front of Eren with a look like death.

Eren feels like he’d rather be dead at this point. 

“It — it was an accident, sir,” he manages to say between his mortification and his terror. 

“So you decided you could waltz in formation late, sharing the same damn row as Kirstein so I suppose you also overslept , and then you have the audacity to tell me you had an accident . Did it not cross your empty fucking head to use the damn toilet before you came to formation, Yeager?”

“No, sir! It won’t happen again, sir!” Eren squeaks out.

The Commander tuts and turns to his assistant who looks as unbothered as ever. “Jacket needs ironing; belts also loose; and dock him an extra fifteen for fucking laziness.” He turns back to Eren and then shoots Jean a suspicious look. “Do I want to know why you both turned up late today?”

I’m sure you don’t, Jean thinks in the back of his head. There’s nothing to tell, really — he and Eren cuddled through the night and it felt good enough that they missed the bell — but he knows he can’t say either of those things or he’ll get the stocks for sure, if the Commander’s deathly aura is anything to go by. He’s also no longer getting a kick out of watching Eren squirm and tremble in this situation — more than anything, he just wants the Commander to quit breathing down their necks. And he especially wants him to back the fuck up off of Eren. 

“I kept him up, sir.” Jean only briefly locks eyes with the Commander before looking straight ahead again. “I started a stupid argument and wouldn’t leave him alone until he admitted I was right. Needless to say it took the whole night to drag that out of him.” He chuckles in spite of himself, thinking back on that random night from seven months ago when a version of this story had actually unfolded.

“Is that so…” The Commander looks at the pair of them dubiously, but clearly doesn’t care quite enough to dig any further into whatever sordid shit two teen-aged boys got up to. “See that you don’t have such arguments again, cadet. I’d hate to give you both another month of stable duty.” He really wouldn’t though. The stables always needed extra hands.

He exits the row and bellows out, loud enough to echo over the entire training field, “Dismissed!” 

And at once chaos unfolds. No sooner do the cadets start talking than does the second row (and specifically two cadets) turn around to look at Eren and Jean. “Did you seriously piss yourself?” the first gasps.

“Oh my god he did… ” the second says, pointing out Eren’s somewhat stained trousers. Eren shrugs off his uniform jacket and self-consciously ties it around his waist.

“I’m gonna head to the showers…” he mutters to Jean, leveling a glare at the snickering cadets.

“You go ahead,” Jean replies as he rubs a comforting circle onto Eren’s back. “I’ll catch up with you soon, after I deal with these two idiots.” He takes Eren’s shoulder and pushes the boy behind him, giving the two unsuspecting cadets a look of murder that makes them instinctively recoil in fear.

Despite all the fucking mortification that he had just experienced, Eren can’t help but find Jean’s move… kinda fucking hot. That being said, he doesn’t want Jean to fight a fruitless battle. He’s already spotted the cadet in their row who was next to Jean talking to another three cadets, and if their constant glances in his direction tell him anything, it’s that he’s their topic of conversation.

“Jean, it’s okay. Just — come help me? It’ll be pointless to try and keep this under wraps — give it a week and people’ll forget.” 

Jean doesn’t really buy it (he doubts that he would ever forget witnessing something so mortifying if he were just an onlooker), but he does hear the notes of exhaustion in Eren’s voice. The boy clearly just wants to be away from prying eyes right now, Jean surmises, so he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that throwing fists will only draw unwanted attention. 

“Alright, c’mon,” Jean says softly as he takes Eren’s hand and leads him toward the boys’ barracks. His eyes are locked onto his path forward, but his thumb rubs gentle circles into Eren’s palm to remind the boy (and himself) that the day will go on and it will be just fucking fine.

***

After the morning’s grueling exercise in patience and resolve, the Cadet Corps is given the rest of the day off. All three Walls know that Jean needs the break — his head is spinning relentlessly while he takes a semi-aimless walk around the compound, giving Eren space to deal with his soiled clothes and abject mortification. Part of Jean refuses to believe that the whole fiasco actually happened. Most of him can’t get the image of Eren wetting himself out of his head, and it’s making the task of keeping his cool a serious challenge.

While his mind is busy playing that scene on repeat, Jean’s legs carry him to the outer edge of the compound where the storerooms are. The area is notably still and quiet with everyone off their usual duties for the day. Jean walks over to the tailor shed, where the spare uniforms are kept, and tries its door. It’s unlocked, as usual — people don’t tend to steal unfinished scrap cloths, so no one sees the point. The door’s rusty hinges creak as Jean pulls it open.

He steps into a mess of fabric and leather scraps littering the floor, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. What’s important is that he’s alone here, and he doubts that anyone will swing by soon. He swipes a small rag from one of the tables in the shed before shutting the door and pressing his back to it. Eren’s sweet, smutty voice rings through his head as he shimmies his trousers and underwear down:

“You like it, Jean. Can’t hide that from me, baby.”

He keens as he squeezes himself just under his swollen cockhead, prompting a steady stream of precum to pour out of the slit and down his half-hard shaft. Jean blushes at the sound of his own ragged panting. He tightens his fist around his length and his hips start to rock erratically, pushing and pulling his soaking-wet cockhead between his index finger and his thumb. 

Sharp, hot pleasure strikes Jean’s gut like lightning. His eyes flutter shut as he throws his head back and moans gruffly. The memory of Eren’s accident returns in full force — the subtle leaking and whimpering, and then the utterly soaked trousers and orgasmic sighs of relief. Jean’s cock throbs against his fist as he fucks it harder and faster.

The heat in Jean’s core tightly coils up as it intensifies. A string of curses fall from his lips right before the heat lights a fuse and his orgasm bursts forth. He just barely catches the flood of milky-white spunk with his rag, grunting through gritted teeth as his hips and thighs tremble. 

Soon the shockwaves of pleasure become gentle ripples that caress every inch of Jean’s skin. He drops to his knees, drawing long, heavy breaths through a blissed-out smile. 

“Fuck… Sina I want you so bad, Eren…”

Nightfall can’t come soon enough, Jean thinks as he shuffles his trousers back into place.

There’s too much time between Jean’s short masturbation session and dinner, so to waste some of it, Jean makes his way to the ODM training field — he can never go wrong with a high-octane flight through the trees. He enters the gear shed to equip himself, and he expects it to be empty, so he’s startled by the sounds of hushed voices coming from the back of the shed. 

“Reiner, you know what I’m talking about. I shouldn’t have to keep repeating myself… all of this? This isn’t what we’re here for.”

“You’re making no sense, Bert. They’re friends. What the hell is wrong with making friends?”

“You’re making them in all the wrong places — that’s what’s wrong.”

Jean’s brows furrow as the conversation carries on in a weirdly serious and cryptic manner. What the hell is Bertholdt’s problem? He thinks to himself as he moves closer.

“Where else am I supposed to make friends, Bert?” Reiner whisper-yells, uncharacteristically angrily. “You and Annie? That’s all?” He cuts himself off suddenly as he spots Jean from the corner of his eye and a look of panic is quickly masked with a friendly grin. “Jean! Hey, I didn’t think I’d see your face out in public so soon!” 

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Jean rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you two doing hidin’ away in the gear shed?” He raises an eyebrow at Reiner. “Or do I not really wanna know?”

Reiner’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously at the insinuation behind Jean’s words and he bursts out in a full-belly laugh, even as Bertholdt blushes beside him. “Ha! We’ve got a tad more class than you and Eren, Jean!”

Jean clenches one of his fists as he seethes. “Oh, fuck off!”

Bertholdt meets eyes with Jean — while there’s nothing overtly aggressive about the taller boy’s stare, it bores through Jean’s soul, which scares him into backing down. “Did you need something from us?” Bertholdt finally asks.

Jean thinks about it for a moment — he has quite a few questions after the strange conversation that he’s just overheard, but he doesn’t have enough interest in Reiner and Bertholdt’s married couple drama to press for more details on why Reiner isn’t allowed to have friends.

Wait — yeah, I guess they are a couple…

The realization gives Jean an idea. It’s a crazy idea, but the three of them are alone right now and no one else is likely to barge in, so he figures he won’t get a better opportunity than this one to broach the subject that he’s thinking of.

“Actually, yeah, I do. Can we sit somewhere for a little bit?”

Reiner is usually easy to read; hell, his face practically screams whatever thoughts cross his mind without so much as an attempt to hide or mask it. Now is no different and his surprise manifests in a perfect wide-eyed, slack-jawed, stunned expression. He turns to Bertholdt with a questioning quirk to his brow.

Bertholdt maintains a level expression as he looks back at Reiner, hoping that the boy takes it as a clue to calm down himself. He gives Reiner a nod, confident that Jean, clever as he is, won’t have anything to ask them that they couldn’t talk their way out of if they needed to.

Satisfied with Bertholdt’s permission, Reiner turns back to Jean with a kind grin. “Sure, take a seat. Is this about Eren?”

Jean cringes as he lowers himself to the floor — Walls, he hopes he wasn’t that obvious and that Reiner just got lucky with that guess. “Not exactly… I just need a few tips on how to do something…” He gives Reiner and Bertholdt each a brief, knowing look. “And I figured that the two of you would have enough experience to help me out here.”

Bertholdt’s brows furrow. “What are you talking about, Jean?”

Jean’s gaze drops to the floor, and his face slowly but surely turns scarlet. “Alright, I won’t beat around the bush — one of you has to be decent at fingering a guy in the ass, right? Tell me how to do that.”

“Ha!” Reiner snorts. “I knew it was about Eren!” Not unkindly, he refocuses on Jean and leans back a little against Bertholdt. “So, did you try giving him the one-two pounder and done? Didn’t get him seein’ stars and shit so now you’re askin’ for some advice or…”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jean asks with widened eyes. “I — well…” His voice falters as his cheeks and ears turn a deeper red. “I haven’t tried it yet. At all.”

At Jean’s admission Reiner utterly freezes, a look of confusion and mild shock on his face. He takes a short peek at Bertholdt, moreso to just remind himself that someone else is also hearing this, and then clears his throat. “Like… at all? I mean — this is Eren we’re talkin’ about — that kid doesn’t really stop at base three.”

“Maybe not, but I do.” That sounded much cooler in Jean’s head than it does out loud — even Bertholdt can’t fully hide his suppressed giggles behind his wavering poker face. Jean clears his throat and tries again: “But that isn’t really cuttin’ it anymore, so now I need to figure out how that next base works. Simple as that.”

Reiner nods with Jean’s explanation with a seriousness that doesn’t quite match the atmosphere. “See — this here — what you’re doin’?” He starts, reaching back to take Bertholdt’s hand in his with easy familiarity. “Miles better than where I started. At least you’re askin’. When me and Bert started, I didn’t fuckin’ think to ask and just pounded away at him until he had the balls to tell me that it didn’t feel as good as I liked to think it did.” He nudges Bertholdt with a mischievous grin. “Best thing he coulda done for us because I take him ‘round the moon now with just two fingers and my tongue.” 

“Reiner!” Bertholdt hisses through his teeth, damn near crushing the other boy’s hand in his as he flushes bright red.

Jean laughs into his own hand, and he doesn’t feel one bit bad about it. “So you’re an expert, huh? Alright then — what’s your secret?”

Reiner pays not the slightest attention to the growing furnace of heat that is his boyfriend and leans forward to Jean excitedly. “There’s a lot of secrets to it, but the first and most important? Takin’ your damn time. If I really wanna take Bert to the fuckin’ clouds I don’t go slippin’ my fingers in until he’s whinin’ for it. Just circle around the pucker, keepin’ it nice and slow and tease-like. Get your other hand busy everywhere else. You don’t wanna start until he’s really cryin’ for it.” 

Jean looks off to the side as he repeats the advice to himself in his head and nods. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense…”

Bertholdt slightly turns away from Reiner, his face turning redder by the second as his eyes dart frantically around the room. “You know you could use a little more discretion with the details, right?”

Reiner turns to Bertholdt with a small laugh and moves his hand from where it was joined with the taller boy up to his nape, softly stroking the short hair there. “Don’t be embarrassed, Bertie. It’s all educational.” He turns back to Jean and continues his spiel as though no interruption happened. “You gotta use something other than spit if you wanna get more than two fingers in. We use the gear-oil, it’s pretty safe and cleans up easily — and Sina knows we’ve got enough to spare. But if you ain’t got that, cookin’ oil is fine, butter in a pinch if you must.” He winks at Jean to convey that yes, he did use that at some point . 

Jean’s eyes widen again in surprise, and before he can stop himself, he’s chuckling again. “Damn, Bert needed it that bad?”

“Don’t read into that…” Bertholdt runs his free hand over his face as he heaves an exasperated sigh.

“Alright, whatever you say…” Jean rolls his eyes with a smirk, and then he looks back to Reiner. “Gear-oil, cooking oil, butter if all else fails — got it. So… uh…” Jean fiddles with the back of his collar as he scrambles to find a minimally lame way to ask his most burning question:

“How do I… how do I get it all started? I’m struggling to get into the right headspace, honestly…”

Reiner frowns, very obviously confused. “Huh? Does it not just — doesn’t it just turn you on to think about fingering him? I know I’d get in the right headspace if Bert just looks at me right…” He gives his boyfriend a salacious grin (prompting Bertholdt to hide his face behind his hand and meekly cast his gaze aside) before turning back to Jean. “Honestly, just sounds to me like you got the jitters about it. It’s not scary, Jean. You just stick ‘em in nice and slow, move ‘em around until you find the spot — and then it’s all about small circles and rubbin’ him off from the inside.” He smirks, clearly satisfied as he waits for Jean’s reaction.

Jean’s not sure whether to be more annoyed with the patronizing quality of Reiner’s half-assurances or with the vagueness of his advice. “The spot?” he repeats as his nose wrinkles slightly. “Where the hell is that?”

The question seems to catch Reiner completely by surprise. He turns to Bertholdt almost instantly and asks: “You’d know better than me — I know where to find it in you but you’d know where it is in you right?” He seems to get frustrated with his own question and, instead of waiting for Bertholdt to garner enough speech to form a sentence between his flustered sounds, he makes a fist with one hand while facing it towards Jean. “Alright so if this is — ugh — y’know… Then when you reach inside…” He uses his other hand and slips two fingers into the fist, pressing the pads up against the inside of his palm. “It’s not too deep in… just like — it feels like a small bump on the inside and that’ll be the spot .”

Jean has no idea what Reiner is getting at here, but he nods along like he perfectly understands. “So basically… I’ll know it when I feel it?”

At that Reiner grins — and his glance at Bertholdt is dark. “You’ll know it when Eren starts gaspin’ and you’ll know you’re on the right track if he starts shakin’,” he corrects Jean.

Bertholdt inhales sharply, eyeing Reiner incredulously for the boy’s sheer audacity, before bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. Jean cackles loudly at the sight. “Shit, Reiner, I think you broke him!”

Reiner laughs and shakes his head slightly, eyeing his embarrassed husband with a mix of compassion and amusement. “Don’t let him fool ya, Jean…” he says softly, “Bert gives as good as he gets.” He brightens up considerably and turns back to Jean. “I’d offer a way for you to practice, but other than doin’ it to yourself you haven’t got much to work with here…” 

“That’s not a problem; now that I know what to do, I can figure it out as I go.” Jean mostly believes himself, but he has to beg those last few ounces of doubt to quit scratching at his resolve. “So, uh… thanks for this, Reiner; I owe ya one.”

Reiner gives Jean a friendly wink and a mock-salute. “Soldier on and make me proud,” he says gravely. And then, as Jean stands up, adds, “And don’t forget to give Eren my regards. He made inspection hella fun today.” 

Jean clicks his tongue with a mirthful smirk. “Tell himself yourself, smartass. See what happens — you won’t.” He then makes his way over to the shelves to begin retrieving his gear. “And with that, I’ll leave you two the hell alone, before Bertholdt melts into the floor.”

Desperate to salvage at least some of his dignity, Bertholdt relaxes his legs and forces himself to sit upright, leveling a glare at Reiner that doesn’t quite come off as intimidating thanks to the intensity of his blush.

“What?” Reiner asks, shrugging while sporting a shit-eating grin. “He wasn’t wrong… you were kinda melting there, Bertie.”

Bertholdt sighs and looks off to the side again. “We’ll talk about this later, Reiner…”

Jean makes quick work of equipping his ODM gear and leaves the two lovebirds in the gear-shed to decompress in private. He’s very relieved that his risky line of inquiry worked in his favor — he definitely learned a lot thanks to Reiner’s impressive lack of shame when talking about sex. As he makes his way to the training course, Jean takes a few deep breaths and tries to imagine the game plan that Reiner had given him:

Take it slow, tease the opening… he’d done that before; no big deal.

Slick your fingers with gear-oil before pushing them in… pushing them in…

Walls, Reiner said it isn’t that scary, so why is his imagination still giving out on him here?

Feeling defeated, Jean decides to drop the matter for now. He figures that after running through all of his fancy maneuver gear tricks he’ll feel a lot better about himself, and once he meets up with Eren again tonight and his body remembers how desperate he is for release then things should fall into place easily enough.

Sina, he hopes they do.

Chapter Text

To say that Eren ran to the showers after that humiliating confrontation with Commander Shadis would have been a bit of an understatement. Eren practically teleports to the last stall in the boys’ barracks without so much as a by-your-leave to Jean. 

Incredible what a bit of distance from his boyfriend will do to him. Eren feels downright humiliated , but more than that, he’s cringing at himself. Sure, he had been desperate , but — as he shucks off his stiff and smelly trousers right along with his boots — the stocks are beginning to look a bit more appealing than whatever awaits him when the other cadets start catching wind of his accident. 

Eren turns the water on cold and drenches himself fully. He really would like to blame Jean — that boy makes him rabid sometimes — but he’s smart enough to know that that’s denial at best, and cruel at worst. Eren’s not exactly sure how long he spends under the icy-cold stream, only that suddenly… he’s not quite alone in the shower room. 

The door creaks for a while as it’s slowly opened, and the footsteps that Eren hears are steady but cautious. “Eren? Are you in here?”

Eren recognizes Armin’s voice almost instantly and it makes him feel just that much worse. He knows his friend won’t tease him too much — but the idea that he’ll need to confront whatever Armin’s thoughts are is worse than humiliating. Nonetheless, he’s never ignored Armin in the past, and he’s not about to do that now. He pokes his head around the stall’s barrier, hair plastered over his pink face. “Yeah…”

Armin picks up the pace of his strides as he approaches Eren, frowning at the shame that hangs over the boy’s expression. “How long have you been hiding here? It seems like you’re all out of hot water…”

Eren blinks and moves to shut off the water, but as soon as the sheltering sounds of the splashing stream ends he feels the sounds inside his head multiply. And they’re all embarrassing enough to force him into a sitting position on the tiled floor. “Fuck…” he whimpers, pulling his knees up to hide his face. 

“Hey, Eren…” Armin lowers himself to his knees in front of the boy, reaching forward to put a hand on one of Eren’s icy-cold shoulders. He doesn’t dare try to imagine how the embarrassment of that accident must be burning him up from the inside — Armin is sure that he himself wouldn’t be able to handle it. “At the very least, you don’t need to make yourself sick by standing under freezing cold water while you’re taking a moment to collect yourself. Okay?”

Eren only groans slightly, shaking his head. “I’m so fucked … Walls, it’s gonna take forever for this to die down, isn’t it?”

Armin has a sinking feeling that Eren is (mostly) right, but it’s dangerous to let this boy wallow in despair, so he knows they can’t focus on that reality for too long.

“It might take longer than we’d like, but hey, someone in the corps is bound to accomplish something even dumber sooner or later.” Armin bites the inside of his lip as he looks off to the side. “Or if not, I doubt that Jean will let people keep giving you dirty looks and backhanded comments for long…”

At the mention of Jean’s name Eren starts and gives Armin a horrified look. “Shit. They’re gonna give him hell for it too aren’t they?” He can already imagine the looks Jean might get — being boyfriends with the Corps’ biggest perv isn’t exactly a good look for anyone and for once, Eren feels doubly ashamed of himself. And he’d been so good up until now too — keeping himself well behaved and tame…

He and Jean have been together for just over six weeks now, and it’s been some of the best six weeks of Eren’s life… He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if Jean broke them up over this. 

Desperately he grabs at Armin’s hand, panic turning his green eyes almost gray. “He — you don’t think he’ll leave me because of this right?”

Armin freezes for a moment as he stares back at Eren — he’d meant for that comment to be comforting, and instead it triggered a catastrophizing episode. He feels like an idiot for failing to anticipate that.

Before Eren gets completely swallowed up by those fears, Armin shakes his head and squeezes Eren’s shoulder a little tighter. “I’m sure Jean is a lot more committed to you than that, Eren. He… he won’t want to abandon all the good things that he’s built with you over a few stupid rumors, right?”

Well, at least I know that I wouldn’t…

Walls, Armin is almost embarrassed by how difficult he finds this exercise in compassion to be.

Eren shifts his gaze back to the floor; he feels naked — and not in the literal sense though that is accurate to his current state — he feels emotionally naked, like all his fears are just spilling around him, utterly obvious to anyone who might pass by.

He shivers, the cold shower feeling like it had been a rather bad idea now. “They — they wouldn’t be just rumors. And you know Jean… he’s got an ego,” Eren mutters. “He won’t wanna be associated with me after that shit. He’s probably glad to be away right now…” He’s probably figuring out the best way to break up with me too…

As much as it pains him to acknowledge it, Armin knows that isn’t true, so he racks his mind for the best way to convince Eren of that truth.

“I’m sure Jean just wanted to give you some space to cool off after the incident. He knows that you usually find that helpful when you’re really upset, doesn’t he?”

Eren chews his lip. Armin isn’t wrong…  

“I guess so…” He shakes as another bout of shivers makes its way through his body, and retracts his hand from Armin’s warm palm to further curl in on himself. “What if he won’t show up for dinner?” Eren winces suddenly. “Sina — I don’t wanna go to dinner!” 

“But you need to eat,” Armin insists as he runs his hand down Eren’s forearm, “and so does Jean. He —” As he’s thinking, Armin feels his cheeks start to heat up slightly, so he averts his gaze again. “He’ll probably be worried about you, so he’ll want to check in with you sooner rather than later… I assume.”

Eren buries his face into his knees again with another long groan, his ears a perfect shade of crimson to match his cheeks. “Don’ wanna go…” 

Armin sighs as he strokes Eren’s arm with his thumb, feeling bad for being so charmed by the boy’s childlike petulance. “I know you don’t want to,” he starts softly, “but I’m telling you that you need to. What’s done is done, so you can’t fully escape its effects even if you try to, right? In the meantime, you need to keep your body in good shape, and…” Without realizing it, Armin grips Eren’s arm a little harder, prompting the boy to glance up. “And you shouldn’t keep Jean worrying about you for longer than he needs to.”

Eren feels almost guilty when he realizes just how fast he assumed Jean would leave him. Of course Jean cared more than that — the boy was used to teasing (courtesy of Eren) and this time he wasn’t even the direct subject of the rumors! As usual, Armin seems to know exactly what to say to him to snap him out of his embarrassing funk. 

That… doesn’t quite make it any easier though. “You’re right — I just… I don’t know how I’m supposed to show my face at dinner after that .” He blushes again, cringing internally as he imagines just what kind of field day Connie and Sasha will have. Hell, Thomas might even get in on it — the guy never lets a good opportunity to tease Eren pass him by. 

“Well… I’ll be around,” Armin offers with a sweet smile as his blush deepens. “And so will Mikasa. At the very least, we’ll have no interest in laughing at you.”

Eren rolls his eyes, his lips just barely tugging upwards in a helpless smile. “Don’t pretend you both won’t tease the fuck out of me later in private. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t started yet…” 

“Eren, who do you take me for?” Armin giggles, his eyes wide with amused shock. “I hate kicking people when they’re down, so why would I do that to you?”

Spirits somewhat restored, Eren uncurls his legs to stretch them out a bit from their cramped position, leaving him fully displayed, but he’s not shy around Armin (not at all). “Sureee…” he croons. “Y’might fool everyone else, Minnie, but I know you’ve got a bit of a sadistic streak in ya —” He boops Armin’s nose for emphasis and then starts to struggle up to his feet, slipping a little due to the tingling numbness in his legs. 

Armin slaps both of his hands over his face, to hide his rapid blushing and to muffle his startled, high-pitched yelp. Sometimes it unsettles him how closely Eren has been paying attention to him over the years, but even so, he’s comforted by that fact in a perverse way.

Armin does his best to shake off his surprise and pushes himself to his feet, as well. “Not towards you, Eren…”

Eren snags his towel from where it hung over the shower partition and wraps it around himself with a small smirk at Armin. “Aww that’s a pity.” He grins. “‘Cause outta everyone? I think I’d like it from you the best…” He gives Armin a wink and then moves out of the stall to get his clean clothes from the bench. 

Armin hates Eren for being such a smooth and shameless flirt, and he hates himself for being so responsive to it — he’s sure his whole face has turned a perfect scarlet, judging from how fiercely the skin burns. He lets Eren walk ahead of him to hide his indecent reaction, fiddling with his fingers behind his back until he’s grounded enough to remember how to breathe. That breath hitches quickly, however, once Armin registers that he hasn’t said anything to Eren’s teasing. The silence is probably more damning than my blush is…

“Eren!” Armin’s voice cracks as he shouts the boy’s name; he swallows thickly in an attempt to stabilize it. “You can’t say that kind of stuff so casually when you’re in a committed relationship.”

“Heh, Jean knows I like you…” Eren smirks, throwing on his tunic. “He’s caught us cuddling before y’know — seems perfectly fine with it, maybe a bit jealous — of me, mind. He likes you too I’ll bet, even if he’s not ready to admit it.” 

“Huh?”

A sharp pang rattles Armin’s heart as he freezes in his tracks. As nice as that image would be, he doesn’t let himself believe it. After all, he’s done nothing to earn that kind of admiration from Jean, of all people. In fact, every time the boy catches Eren kissing or casually touching him, Jean glares at Armin like he means to tear his competition apart with just his eyes. It makes the blond’s stomach flip, every time.

In a flash, Armin is imagining Jean pinning him against a wall, fixing his arms above his head with a tight grip on his wrists. Jean wears a dastardly smirk and has that same murderous look in his eyes, but they glint with a ravenous desire for the fear and anxiety of his helpless captive.

Armin tries unsuccessfully to swallow a breathy sigh as he blinks himself back to reality. “Seriously, you shouldn’t joke about things like that…”

Eren hops on one leg as he struggles to pull up his trousers, glancing over at Armin with an amused grin. “But it makes you blush all pretty-like!” he insists gleefully. He finishes his outfit by tying his belt around his waist tightly, cinching right on top of his hips in a manner he thinks Jean might appreciate, and then gathers his shower supplies to head back to the boys’ barracks. He can just barely hear the buzzing sounds that tell of gossip and pre-dinner excitement and for a moment he forgets that he will be the subject of tonight’s gossip. 

He bundles all his shower supplies under one arm and then drags Armin with his free hand — he intertwines their fingers and leads both of them towards the door. “I hope we’re getting something other than soup tonight… I’d kiss a titan for a bowl of rice, even!” 

“Yeah, right…” The joke sounds ludicrous coming from Eren in particular, but even that isn’t enough to distract Armin from how enchanted he is by the simple sensation of holding Eren’s hand like this. It’s such a comfort, but it also puts soft little butterflies in his stomach. He knows that he has no right to feel this way (or maybe he does?), but he wishes that he never had to let go of Eren.

Unfortunately, he and Eren will reach the common sleep area soon, and Armin is prepared for a certain tall, snarky someone to drive them apart once again.

Yet, in some cruel twisted idea of divine comedy, Jean is not in the boys’ barracks, but almost everyone else is . 

Eren hardly steps foot through the door, aiming to set his soiled clothes away for washing along with his shower supplies when — like moths drawn to a flame — he feels some thirty pairs of eyes on him. 

And while some of those eyes feel harmless enough (accompanied as they are by genuine smiles or bashful grins), some feel downright cruel. Eren is a hard-headed idiot and most of the Cadet Corps knows this — some find it endearing but some… some really don’t.

“Well well look who decided to show his face!” A lanky boy with a case of permanent bed-head calls from his bunk.

“Hey Yeager, did the Commander decide to potty-train you privately?” Someone else calls out from a group of four boys, all of whom were a bit too old to be making such suggestive remarks. 

A second boy from the group with light brown hair leans over the first boy’s shoulder to get a better look at Eren’s horrified and reddening face. “How’d he like the show, you little slut?”

Franz, who had been preparing his uniform by his bed, cringes at the crass line and turns around to face the bullies. “Whoa, chill out, guys; that’s going overboard.”

“Overboard?” The brunet boy clicks his tongue. “You’re the only one who has a problem here, dude. Let a guy live, wouldja?”

The first guy, noticeably older than most of the first-year cadets, wears his ashy-blond hair in a horrible pomade and smooths it back as he nudges the brunet. “I’ll bet the little cock-sucker got off on it too…” He doesn’t even try to whisper the comment as Eren walks past them to his bunk. 

Eren hates that they are not wrong. But they aren’t and it makes him feel like he’s going to be sick all over the wooden floors. His face goes from red to white quickly and he lets Armin’s hand go as soon as they reach his cot.

Armin frowns at the sickly haze of shame that hangs over Eren. He briefly wishes that he were strong enough to rip out the tongues of everyone in the room who’d made those nasty comments. But fighting fire with fire only burns the house down quicker, so Armin takes a deep breath and gently places his hand on Eren’s back. “Don’t mind them,” he whispers. “We don’t have to hang around here long. And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Eren glances up at Armin as he throws his soiled clothes into a rucksack of dirty laundry. He hopes the panic isn’t too obvious on his face but thinks that he rather sells himself out when he answers. “I-I don’t care what they say!” Shit . Why did his voice have to crack?

Armin flinches slightly at the sound of Eren’s fear but otherwise does a decent job of maintaining a gentle, collected expression. “It’s alright, Eren,” he continues as he reaches back out for the boy’s hand. “They don’t have any idea what they’re talking about, remember?”

The jeering from some of the other boys gets loud again and it sounds as though Thomas and Franz are trying to argue with the older cadets while someone else throws vague and vicious threats, but Eren has mostly tuned them out. He stares at the rucksack he holds and sees his hands shaking in their grasp on the rough wool as he lets Armin’s words wash over him. 

Normally, they’d be comforting enough to have him snap right out of his funk. Normally, he’d be giving Armin a soft smile at this point, conveying his thanks, and would be moving on to the dining hall. 

But… normally, Eren didn’t have a damn image to uphold. Normally, he didn’t have a boyfriend who’d be included in these rumors about him. 

He chokes on his words when he tries to speak and fails to hide the hitch in his throat. Sina, he’s pathetic if just some stupid teasing remarks can break him up so much. 

Internally, Armin starts to panic when he hears the first of Eren’s sobs — he knows that this boy would die before letting anyone see him break down, so already things have gotten way too serious for his liking. Armin takes the rucksack from Eren’s hands and sets it down by the cot before gently stroking Eren’s shoulder. “Hey, you haven’t done anything wrong, Eren. So you have nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Nothing at all.”

The jeering from the barracks gets louder and words become easier to pick out. Eren thinks he hears the word ‘slut’ a few times, a bit more with ‘piss-baby’, and an uncomfortable amount of suggestive phrases regarding himself and the Commander, which turns his stomach. 

But Armin’s hand on his shoulder grounds him enough to also notice two other boys making their way rapidly towards them. Their identities aren’t clear to Eren until Marco is taking Armin’s other hand and tugging him in the direction of the door. “It’s getting way too rowdy here, huh?” the freckled boy says cheerily.

Just behind Marco, Floch glares around the room at the jeering boys, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “That’s one way to put it,” he mutters under his breath.

“Me and Floch were going to head over to the dining commons just now,” Marco continues, talking over the redhead hastily. “Did you and Eren want to join us?” 

The not-so-subtle squeeze he gives Armin’s hand is as clear a message as any that they need to get Eren out of here pronto, even if his face is a perfect picture of nonplussed.

Armin smiles politely at Marco, but the shimmer in his eyes betrays a deep gratitude. “Yes, we’d love to,” he gleefully replies as he takes Eren by the arm, looking back at the brunet to show him his sweet, widening grin.

Eren opens his mouth to… he doesn’t really know what to say but he does know that one more minute in this room and he will start crying and he doesn’t think he wants Floch to ever see him do that. 

Some boundaries he doesn’t think should be crossed. 

So instead he pulls on a brave face and gives Armin a small eye roll. “Please, didn’t you just have lunch? You’re just desperate to get to the food before Sasha does…”

Marco lets Armin’s hand go as soon as he’s sure the blond will follow, and starts to walk towards the door, laughing at Eren’s comment so that the calm teasing air of their banter replaces the acrid taste of the other boys’ comments. 

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem for us anymore; Connie is risking his neck to get her special rations from the officer’s quarters and that’s got her on her best behavior.” 

“He’ll get himself killed one of these days trying to impress her…” Floch struggles to resist the urge to turn around and punch someone in the face for the shit that they’d said about Eren. The only thing keeping that urge at bay is the sight of Eren’s playful smile — it’s noticeably forced, yes, but somehow still radiant. Floch leans into the useful distraction, turning to give Eren a knowing smirk. “I’m givin’ it five days — what’s your bet, Eren?”

They exit the barracks and the cool air is a balm on Eren’s heated face. He takes in gulps of it gratefully before pretending to give Floch’s question some careful consideration. “How long before Connie gets caught? Or before Sasha figures out that he’s not doin’ it out of the goodness of his heart but rather because he’s got a fat crush on her crumby ass?” he tosses back. 

“Holy shit — ” That second consideration hadn’t crossed Floch’s mind; it cracks him up. “She’s gonna strangle him once it clicks for her, isn’t she?” 

Armin laughs and shakes his head. “But then wouldn’t she lose a valuable source of sustenance if she chokes him to death?”

“Not the point, nerd!” Floch snipes back, but he’s still chuckling so the jibe loses its edge.

Marco hides his giggles behind a polite hand, but his eyes are equally bright with mischief at their bantering. He turns to Eren and raises a brow suggestively. “Well what do you think, Eren? Do you think Sasha likes Connie back?”

Eren laughs and leans forward to sling his arms around Armin’s shoulders as they walk the short distance to the dining commons. “Speakin’ as someone who’s been with Sasha that way… Connie’s in over his head. That girl is insatiable for more than just food.” 

“And Connie’s fuckin’ clueless.” Floch laughs quietly at a memory that pops into his head. “This one time, Ymir made a random pussy joke after training and Connie legitimately didn’t know which part of the body she was talking about. It was sad to watch, honestly…”

Eren looks horrified at the revelation. “ Shit . Maybe I really should have given him more than a lapdance… might have given him a little game at least.” The group reaches the dining commons, already buzzing with sounds and talk but thankfully not as badly as the boys’ barracks. 

Eren instinctively scans the room for Jean and he’s both amused and surprised to see his boyfriend sitting at their usual spot, right opposite Mikasa. Both of them are doing a wonderful job at ignoring the other and focusing on the woodgrain of the table. 

He unlatches himself from Armin, and bounces over to Jean with a mix of giddiness and some anxiety. “Hey Jean…” 

Jean instantly perks up at the familiar sound of Eren’s voice. “There you are,” he coos with a sweet smile as he pulls Eren down onto the bench next to him and quickly kisses his cheek. “Missed seein’ that cute face of yours.”

Eren blushes to the tip of his nose but practically preens at Jean’s words. He hides his face into the boy’s shoulder muttering something that was supposed to be a ‘missed you too’ but it came out more like a garbled whine. 

Marco claps his hands suddenly, loudly, and with a too-bright smile. “How about Floch and I go get our trays then? I’ll bet you both have a lot to catch up on!” He doesn’t exactly wait for Floch’s consent and instead drags the redhead by his sleeve over to the ration-distribution counter. 

From her place on the bench opposite the two lovebirds, Mikasa gives Armin a friendly, if somewhat hesitant smile as she pats the spot next to her in invitation. Armin settles into that spot easily, returning her smile as he finally allows himself to relax a little.

Meanwhile, Jean frowns slightly at Marco’s haste in leaving. For Maria’s sake, he gives Eren one measly kiss on the cheek and that’s enough to send Marco running for the hills? Jean feels like Marco has been doing things like this more often lately, and each time he notices, it twists his stomach into painfully tight knots. And it had all started the moment that he’d made his relationship with Eren official. 

What kind of friend is Marco if he’s so repulsed by the idea of him being intimate with Eren? He can’t help but think that this wouldn’t be a problem if it were, say, Mikasa that he’d just kissed, and that makes Jean insanely mad…

But he doesn’t let himself dwell on these things for too long — he can feel that Eren is still a mess, and he wants to be present enough to at least try to help his boyfriend work through it.

“You look exhausted,” Jean notes softly as he rubs circles into Eren’s lower back. “Have people been givin’ you that much shit about what happened this morning?”

Eren colors again, but his blush is different from the pleasure-filled warmth that had just brightened his cheeks a moment ago. It’s a bit more painful and tinged with shame. “Just a little, yeah. But I expected it. They gave me the same crap when me and Floch were caught behind the classroom bungalows. It’ll die down… eventually,” he says quietly.

“You’re sayin’ it like you don’t really believe it.” Jean strokes Eren’s hair with his other hand, and he tightens his embrace. “They’re stupid kids — they’ll get tired of this story after they tell it to each other a hundred times and then they’ll forget about it. That I’m sure of.”

Eren only groans a little and presses his face into the crook of Jean’s neck. 

“Jean is right, Eren.” Mikasa pops in, having been not-so-subtly eavesdropping on their exchange while she moves her hand over to Armin’s under the table, stroking it once softly. “The girls aren’t even talking about it; they’re more worried about the grades for the inspection, really. Oh, and the fact that Sasha is getting love-bombed by Connie but doesn’t seem to recognise that…” 

Her change of topic is intentional because she thinks she can see Eren panicking where he hides his face in Jean’s shoulder. While she trusts Jean to handle Eren easily enough in private, she doesn’t want to risk having Eren walk out of the dining commons without some sort of food in him. 

Now Jean is beginning to lose faith in the power of words, seeing as Eren is barely responding to even Mikasa’s attempts to cheer him up and calm him down. He moves his hands onto Eren’s chest and starts pushing the boy off of him. “Look, bottom line is that mopin’ around all night isn’t gonna change anything. No need to make yourself any more miserable than you have to be.”

No sooner does Jean finish his encouraging talk, than do Marco and Floch reappear with everyone’s dinner rations crammed onto four trays. “We’re not interrupting your motivational speech, are we?” Marco asks with a slightly mocking smile aimed at Jean. 

Jean can’t help but smile at the unexpected kind gesture. “Not at all,” he answers with a playful shake of his head. “You didn’t have to go out of your way like that…”

He wonders for a moment if maybe he’d read too much into Marco’s hurry to leave earlier. He knows his friend to be the sweet and nurturing type, after all. If only he had such comforting explanations for the rest of Marco’s episodes…

“Oh, it’s not a problem!” Marco blushes slightly, waving off Jean’s thanks.

“Still, thank you, Marco,” Armin chimes in as he begins taking Eren’s share of the rations off of one tray and pushing them in front of his dejected friend. “Thanks for everything; you and Floch have been a great help today.”

Floch rubs the back of his neck as he looks off to the side. “We just dragged you two here; it wasn’t that big a deal…” 

Eren pokes his nose over to see what measly rations were provided tonight and as soon as the scent of the vegetable soup hits him he twists his lips into a pout. “Ugh, again?” he mutters quietly.

Not quite quietly enough for Mikasa not to hear and she sends him a very pointed glare which inspires him to lift his spoon right up to his mouth without so much as another word of complaint. 

Marco sits tentatively by Armin’s side, opposite Eren and Jean, and starts to stir his own soup gently. “Well, actually, Floch did quite a good job of handling some of those other boys earlier, Jean…” he starts conversationally, purposefully not making eye contact with the boy. “Almost ripped out some throats too if I didn’t pull him back…” 

“Oh really now?” Jean raises an eyebrow and smirks at Floch, who turns red as a poppy by Marco’s side. “Well, gotta give credit where it’s due, right?” He pushes his leg forward under the table enough to stroke Floch’s thigh with his foot. “Thanks for stickin’ up for him like that.”

“What the —” Floch almost bites his tongue in his hurry to shut himself up before he says anything too embarrassing or revealing. Though he feels like melting into the floor, he makes himself sit up a little bit straighter and look Jean in the eyes as he speaks: “Y-yeah, of course.”

Eren watches the encounter with a mixture of pride and awe and hardly notices that his spoon has been hovering in midair for the past minute. He finishes bringing it to his mouth and slips his free hand down to stroke Jean’s inner thigh, fingers dancing on the seam giddily.

Marco’s eyebrow twitches slightly but he does a good job of pretending that he did not see what Jean just did. “Where were you, though? I’m sure Eren would have appreciated you in his corner earlier… What with being his boyfriend and all…”

Marco’s emphasis on the word “boyfriend” makes the hairs on the back of Jean’s neck stand on end. He wants to shut down this line of questioning as quickly as possible, but he’s distracted by the memory of Bertholdt combusting at Reiner’s side as the blond giant unabashedly explains the mechanics of anal fingering. It is quite difficult for Jean to keep a straight face and a cool head.

“It’s… I got busy, alright? Don’t worry about it.”

Armin’s brows furrow slightly as he casts a brief, puzzled glance at Mikasa. He hopes he’s not the only one who finds Jean’s evasive response to be strange… She gives him just the slightest side-eye, silently confirming that it was indeed evasive before she coughs slightly.

“Did you get in trouble with the Commander, Eren?” she asks instead, dragging Eren from his focused eating. The boy always ate like his life depended on it (which it did but the boy could slow down ). 

“Eh?” Eren glances up and furrows his brows. “I — I don’t think so… Jean?”

“I didn’t hear anything from him…” Jean grins at Eren as he pats him on the shoulder. “So as far as we know, you’re in the clear.”

“Hmmm, pretty lucky…” Marco hums, gently breaking off a piece of bread to dip it into his soup. “Anyway the rumors are enough punishment as it is, huh?” 

Jean’s hand slides down to Eren’s knee and gently squeezes it as he locks his eyes onto Marco. “You got that right. But at the very least we don’t have to keep reminding him of said rumors at this table, yeah?”

Marco blushes darkly and breaks Jean’s stare quickly as he looks back at his soup. “Ah, you’re right… sorry, Eren.”

Eren’s a bit too busy tipping the rest of his soup into his mouth to pay much attention to Marco’s mumbled apology but as soon as he sets the bowl down he’s all grins. “Don’t worry about it — I think Floch did a good job of freaking them out enough. Somehow, I think I might get a solid night’s sleep because of that.” He turns to Floch with a cheeky grin. “You make a very good guard-dog, I’ll give you that much, puppy .” 

Floch forgets to breathe for a moment — he feels like his whole body has been set on fire, he’s blushing so intensely. He knows that comments like this from Eren aren’t supposed to affect him this deeply anymore, but damn it, it feels so good to know that he’d been helpful to Eren today. That he’d been useful. 

Still, there are enough people around that Floch doesn’t want to completely melt in front of all of them. If only Eren hadn’t broken out that damn pet name — why even go there when they’d agreed to stay platonic? (Not that he really minded all that much…)

Floch coughs into his fist before clearing his throat and folding his arms over his chest. “They were all pissing me off anyway,” he spits out. “Don’t get the wrong idea, man…”

Eren snorts a little and hides his knowing smirk behind his hand as he leans back a little. “Sure… whatever you need to tell yourself at night…” 

Floch can’t handle that adorably cheeky look on Eren’s face — if he keeps his eyes on it for a second longer then he knows his heart will explode, so he averts his gaze to his water jug and focuses on cooling himself off with some much-needed gulps. 

Jean has to try very hard not to laugh at the redhead’s utter inability to take Eren’s teasing. When he forgets the history behind it, it’s some of the funniest shit he’s ever seen.

To distract himself from Floch’s pathetic display (and just to be a menace because hey, it’s too much fun), Jean’s fingers travel from Eren’s knee and up the inside of the boy’s thigh, lightly enough to just barely be felt through the boy’s trousers. “So, how ya feelin’?” he half-whispers to Eren — his expression is largely neutral but his eyes glint with mischief.

Eren leans forward on the table, leaning on his propped up arms as he does so, appearing the picture of calm. But under the table he slides his legs open, inviting Jean’s touch with the kind of brashness that should have disappeared given the events of earlier in the day. 

He tips his head back to give Jean a dark-eyed, saucy smirk and simply says: “A bit hot, honestly. The soup is probably to blame…” 

“Mm, that so?” Jean’s heart flutters as Eren opens himself up for him, and he struggles to suppress a giddy smile as he teasingly pinches Eren’s thigh. “Good thing you’ll be done with it soon, then, right?”

Eren dips one finger into his bowl and tips it slightly on its side to show the empty contents, before lifting his finger and tracing the rim slightly. “Hmm, I’m done — just waitin’ on you, baby.” 

Jean glances down at his half-full bowl of soup with significant disinterest. He wants to forget everything on his tray and drag Eren out of the dining commons right this minute, but he knows that his stomach would punish him for that later. So he picks up the bowl with both hands and takes one last, long drink from it before setting it down.

“That should be enough.” Jean licks his lips a little more slowly than he needs to. “Let’s get outta here, then?”

Eren visibly brightens at the suggestion and his cheeks pinken tellingly. But just as he makes to gather their bowls he gets rather arrested by the look Mikasa is leveling at him and Jean. 

It’s not exactly exasperation, neither is it disappointment, but it’s also not completely devoid of interest. She gives the two of them a not-so-subtle smile and huffs into the red scarf around her neck. “You two should try doing the foreplay bit of your courtship somewhere other than the dinner table…” she says with a meaningful glance at Armin, Floch, and Marco, all who are in varying states of discomfort. 

Armin gasps quietly at Mikasa’s directness, but his very small smile and his firm hold on her hand under the table communicate his gratitude for it. Floch’s eye contact with Mikasa makes him feel too exposed for his liking, so he awkwardly sorts his dishes out on his tray before excusing himself from the table in between unintelligible mutters.

Jean huffs in disbelief as he gives Mikasa an amused yet exasperated look. “What the hell did I do that was so offensive? I kept it tasteful!” 

Mikasa raises a single brow and gives Jean a smirk. “You kept it under the table , is what you did, Jean.” 

Jean’s confident smile falters for a moment. “Well you sure pay a lot of attention…” He ignores the faint heat of the blush that dusts his cheeks and shakes his head before collecting his and Eren’s dishes onto his tray. “Whatever — we were just about finished anyway. Let me take you somewhere more… appropriate, Eren.” Jean’s smile returns when he glances back at Eren to wink at him.

Eren laughs easily at the entire exchange but gets up quickly enough to join Jean. “I can’t imagine what you’ve got in mind…” he teases lightly before turning to Mikasa, Armin and Marco, and giving them a cheeky wave. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Marco doesn’t meet Eren’s gaze and instead stands up to gather his dishes. “Sure. See you both later tonight…” He glances up at Jean for a moment, something dark passing over his expression, before he moves off their table to the dish-collection counter. 

Jean holds Marco’s gaze, and his face falls when he sees the shadows hanging over Marco’s eyes. If he hadn’t been sure before, then Jean is sure now that the raven-haired boy has a serious problem with him and Eren. It makes his blood boil…

But he doesn’t want to think about such awful things while Eren is walking arm in arm with him out of the dining area, leaning on his shoulder to whisper soft teasing words to him between honey-sweet giggles. The day has been long and hard enough; he and Eren both deserve to relax now.

At the very least, Jean can make sure that Eren enjoys the night enough to forget about his stressful day. Thanks to Reiner, he knows what to do. All that’s left is to set the right mood and perform.

I can do this…

He hopes that he can, anyway.

“So anyway…” Eren breaks off his boring monologue to turn his inquisitive green gaze to Jean. They are walking shoulder-to-shoulder and holding hands as they quietly make a slow stroll around the mostly-empty campgrounds. “What were you doin’ after, uh — after the inspection?” He blushes a bit, recalling rather vividly just how much his accident had affected Jean. “Didja get off or something?”

Jean chuckles as his gaze shifts back to Eren’s face, shimmering with playful lust. “Maybe I did,” he teases, playing up the lilt in his voice. “You upset you missed the show?”

Eren colors brightly and he takes a sharp breath in as he glances away. “N-no! I mean… you — you don’t owe me…” He bites his cheek frustrated. “But… did you?” 

“I had to, after the stunt that you pulled.” Jean moves his hand down to Eren’s hip and strokes it in long, slow stripes with his fingers. “Couldn’t get the sight of your adorable panicked face outta my head…”

Eren shivers visibly, Jean’s words inspiring some very graphic images in his mind. He glances around and (after deciding he doesn’t really care who sees them) pulls Jean up against the wall of one of the bungalows by his belt, before kissing him heatedly. 

“That’s really fuckin’ hot, Jean…” he pants against the taller boy’s wet lips.  

Jean responds by pressing right back into Eren’s kiss, caressing the boy’s sides and hips as he hums into their contact. He’s already starting to feel heat well up in his gut — Eren’s eagerness really does it for him.

He breaks the kiss to peck the boy’s ear and then whispers into it: “I can say the same about you, Eren. Sina , you really turn me on.”

Eren keens into the sensation and his fists curl tighter on Jean’s belt. “Fuck…” he groans, “so you really got off on that shit I did?” He buries his face into the crook of Jean’s neck, licking at the skin and delighting in the faint tang of salt. “Walls, how messed up am I, pissing in front of the whole corps like that… I feel like I should be scared of the shit you could make me do, Jean.” 

“Mh…” Jean melts the moment that Eren’s tongue touches his skin; he shuts his eyes and sighs contentedly as Eren runs it along the curve of his neck, teasing sensitive spots that make him shiver from head to toe. He wraps his arms around Eren’s waist and pulls the boy closer, pressing their hips together such that his semi-hard cock pushes against Eren’s. “You should be afraid,” Jean replies, his voice dark and breathy. “But you’re not the type to run and hide, are you?”

“Hhn…” Eren’s breath stutters in a whimper, and his hips jolt at the sudden hot contact with Jean’s slightly tented trousers. “No,” he manages to whisper weakly, “I’m not — I’ll take it. I’ll always take it, Jean…” 

That display of almost foolish eagerness makes Jean’s breath hitch.

Eren rocks his hips back, testing Jean’s hold on his waist and luxuriating in the sensation of his steady grip. “Y’gonna take us somewhere private? Or y’wanna see me humiliated again that bad?” He doesn’t tame the teasing quality to his question, knowing that Jean probably enjoyed his honest humiliation on the field more than he’d admit to. 

“Nah, you’ve been punished enough today.” Jean rubs the small of Eren’s back and presses a kiss to the boy’s temple. “And you took it very well. It’s about time I give you your reward for that, yeah?”

Jean doesn’t wait for Eren’s response — he knows that the little brunet minx agrees. He releases Eren before taking him by the hand and leading him away. He figures one of the storerooms should be free from other visitors around this hour, and it’s not too far of a walk. Still, he keeps Eren entertained along the way by massaging the boy’s hip and pressing more kisses to his cheek and his jaw.

It takes Eren an embarrassingly long time to figure out where exactly they are headed to, but he blames all of Jean’s teasing touches for how easily he loses his train of thought. He can’t go more than five steps without the other boy’s clever little fingers trailing up his spine, or getting a surprise kiss to the back of his neck. It doesn’t help that for every turn they make Jean takes personal responsibility to steer Eren in the right way with his warm hands gripping both of Eren’s hips. 

Eren feels a bit like a doll in Jean’s hands and he can’t help the litany of giggles that the thought provokes out of him. “Are we going to the tailor shed?” he finally manages to demand after they take another turn past the storerooms. “Not a bad idea… looks like my handsome prince of horses has some brains after all.”

“What the —” Jean rolls his eyes and flicks the back of Eren’s head, snickering as he does. “You have no business commenting on my brains, you fuckin’ blockhead.” He moves a hand into Eren’s hair and tugs at it somewhat roughly. “Are you trying to get on my nerves?” he asks with a playful smirk.

Eren gasps a little at the rough handling; it feels strangely electric — more than usual. But he’s quick enough to twist around and shove his hands under Jean’s arms to tickle him right at his weak spot. “Oi, that’s no way to talk to your boyfriend!” 

Jean stops in his tracks and almost trips over his own feet, straining to hold back the laughter that threatens to burst out of his throat. He’s only successful for a few seconds — he’s too sensitive where Eren’s fingers are poking and scratching at him, and soon he’s howling as he grabs at Eren’s arms and tries to pry them away. “Hey! Cut — ahahaha! — Cut that out! Shit!”

Eren cackles but doesn’t quite let up on his attack. Instead he makes full use of his advantage and, with one smooth right hook of his leg, kicks out Jean’s legs from under him so that the taller boy topples right to the ground. 

A very easy target. 

Eren strikes quick as a viper, straddling Jean’s waist he starts snaking his fingers down to Jean’s obliques and right back up his ribs, hitting each spot that he knows will have the boy in stitches. He’s almost high with excitement and it’s not all completely innocent. He’s slightly hard in his trousers and can readily admit to himself that he’s just much too pent up from today to not get turned on by Jean’s gasping shrieks. “Consider this revenge!” 

“Fuck you!” Jean shouts, but the words are broken up by his giggling. He hates how juvenile it sounds, and he’s humiliated by how much he can feel that it’s arousing Eren, but damn, he’s missed the feeling of Eren’s hard-on pressed against his own. He bucks his hips up into Eren’s, wanting desperately to feel more of it, as he grabs at the bottom of Eren’s shirt and pulls to untuck it from his trousers. 

Jean’s fingers slip under the fabric and slide over Eren’s heated skin, teasing his hips and sides before walking up and down his spine. He prays that this is enough to slow Eren down, so he can catch a break and get some air into his lungs.

Jean’s touch burns like a brand on Eren’s skin and his delicate touches on Jean’s body curl into sharp claws of contact in reaction. Eren bites his lower lip to avoid spilling what was bound to be an embarrassing whine, but he can’t help buckling under the rippling sensations that seem to shoot sparks up and down his spine. 

“Walls…” he curses, “I’m on a fuckin’ hair-trigger Jean… hah! Shit. Just…” He digs his fingers into flesh and pulls in a sharp breath. “I — we’re gonna need to move now or I’m gonna start wanking right here.” He means it to come out as a tease, but his voice is too shaky and low — the desperation slipping out traitorously. 

Jean’s hands slow to a stop as they settle over Eren’s hips. His flushed cheeks hurt from how hard he’d been laughing, and his chest heaves with each sharp breath that he takes in. “Yeah, knowin’ you, you’re not kiddin’ about that… Can you move those pretty hips back for me a little bit?” He squeezes them and strokes them tenderly with his thumbs. “You can put them right back on me as soon as we get to the shed.”

Eren rolls his eyes, and shifts his hips back a little, taking every care to drag his ass over Jean’s cock as he does so, until he can slip off of Jean entirely and get up on his feet. He offers Jean a hand up, grinning somewhat bashfully. “I’d run the rest of the way but somehow I feel like that would be a bit too obvious.” 

Jean’s skin tingles all over with hot anticipation in response to Eren’s tease — it’s always the little things Eren does that rile him up. He looks up at Eren through his lashes and flashes a flirtatious smile before taking the boy’s hand. “You’re not exactly the subtle type,” he chuckles as he gets to his feet. “But I’ve come to like that about you… sometimes.”

Eren scoffs lightly, but his cheeks glow a dark pink under the darkening sky. “Please, you love that about me…” he says and then promptly grabs Jean’s hand to lead him to the tailor shed.

Chapter Text

They reach the tailor shed in record time, mostly thanks to Eren’s impatience, and thankfully it is completely empty. The two boys are able to sneak inside the small hut with little issue — it’s only when they get in that another problem makes itself apparent.

“Walls, aren’t there shifts to clean up this place?” Eren groans, eyeing the piles of leather and fabric that are scattered over every conceivable surface. “Ugh, Armin would be good at figuring out where to start with this mess…”

Jean sighs as he pushes his fingers through his hair, silently cursing whichever cadets had blown off their cleaning duties. “It’s not like we’ll need the whole space… we’ll just pick an area and clear it out. Move the rest off to the sides, yeah?”

Eren tsks. “You sure about that?” He gives Jean a charming wink. “I’d have thought you’d like to toss me around a bit — get all worked up? Usually that really gets you going.”

“Mm…” Jean cups Eren’s face in his hand for a moment before sliding that hand down Eren’s neck and over his chest, where he thumbs at the boy’s nipple through his shirt, eliciting a surprised gasp from Eren. “That does sound pretty nice, now that you mention it…”

Jean’s eyes briefly move away and back to the mess in the room, half-wishing that he could simply burn it into nothingness. He finds a stack of spare blankets tucked out of sight in one corner — grinning with triumph, he takes two long steps to fetch one, unfolds it, and shakes most of the dust off of it.

“There —” Jean takes Eren’s shoulder and gently pushes him to the side before setting the blanket down over a relatively flat pile of fabrics. “Now we don’t have to worry about making a mess. Come here…” Jean lowers himself onto the blanket and pulls Eren toward him by the arm, wearing a warm smile on his face. 

Eren follows a little dumbly, his smile feeling somewhat dopey on his face. He kneels down in front of Jean and immediately presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, soft and a little giddy. “It’s perfect,” he whispers between chaste pecks. “You have anything in mind for tonight, Jean?” he croons playfully, backing away a little to give the other boy space to breathe. 

“Naturally, I do…” Jean swiftly leans back in to kiss Eren along his jaw and down his neck as he makes quick work of undoing Eren’s belt. He tells himself that his heart is racing because Eren’s sighs and giggles are fucking beautiful — totally not for any other reason…

Jean forces his panic back down — he’s skipping steps by worrying about it now. First, he has to make Eren melt for him, draw out as many of those pretty whines as possible before the main event. After tossing Eren’s belt aside, he starts pushing up Eren’s shirt, moving down to kiss and lick the boy’s stomach and chest before pulling the shirt over Eren’s head. He quickly pecks the boy’s lips before digging his teeth into Eren’s collarbone and sucking on the flesh.

Eren’s chest heaves as Jean’s lips burn and imprint themselves on his skin and he forces himself to relax — to fully luxuriate in the feelings and not rush the boy. But he only has so much patience, and he hasn’t cum since the night before. 

Reaching out a hand, he presses it to Jean’s chest, fumbling with the topmost buttons of his shirt. “Sina, I needed this…” he whispers as he struggles to get Jean’s shirt open single-handedly. His other hand is busy supporting his weight, propping him up shakily as Jean takes him apart at the seams. “You’re not gonna make me wait, right?” Eren teases, though secretly it’s less a tease than a genuine question. 

Jean pauses his ministrations for a moment, pretending to think about his response. “Not for too long, no,” he finally sighs before slowly circling Eren’s nipple with his tongue.

“Ahh! Fuck!” Eren’s head snaps back at the sudden assault of pleasure and he has to restabilize himself with both hands, leaving Jean’s shirt still two-thirds buttoned. Through the hazy pleasure of Jean’s expert tongue, Eren wonders if he’ll need to beg for release or if Jean is dead-set on denying him until the time he sees fit. 

Well, there’s a few ways Eren can nudge his boyfriend to give in a bit quicker… Subtly, he stretches out his legs, bracketing Jean between them as he spreads himself out vulgarly. His thin pants do nothing to hide his erection and the view is frankly — hot as fuck.

Jean’s eyes are drawn right to the bulge in Eren’s trousers, and he struggles to swallow a moan as the salacious sight makes his throat run dry. He reaches down to feel it up with one hand, slowly, and with just enough pressure to feel more frustrating than satisfying — even so, the touch causes Eren to buck up. “Fuck, you’re this hard for me already, doll? Mh…” The blush on Jean’s face darkens as he unbuttons Eren’s trousers and starts to slide them down. “These must feel way too tight; let me get them out of the way…”

Eren’s face burns as he feels a desperate-sounding moan escape between his teeth. He looks up at Jean through his bangs, watching the boy’s mirroring blush and feeling a wave of arousal hit him like a punch to his gut. Jean’s golden eyes are almost wholly swallowed by the darkness of his pupils and that lovely blush has traveled down his neck — and Eren wants nothing more than to see if it goes further down. 

He pulls up his legs to help Jean take off his trousers and keeps them bent up for a bit before letting his knees fall to either side, spreading himself even wider in a silent seduction that he hopes works in his favor. 

He’s mostly mute but manages to get out a weak-sounding, “Jean…” in hopes that it will further get his message across: he needs those hands back on him now . 

Jean needs no further encouragement — he ghosts his fingers over one of Eren’s thighs while leaving a trail of hot, needy kisses along the other, softly moaning against the skin as his blush spreads over his whole body. His own trousers have grown uncomfortably tight by now, but he’s too enamored by Eren’s squirming and mewling to even think of slowing down. He nips at the juncture between Eren’s thigh and hip before cheekily nosing at the boy’s scrotum through his underwear.

Eren lets out a very undignified sounding squeak, gasping out Jean’s name with a mixture of shock and arousal. But his body rather betrays him as his dick makes a valiant attempt to break through his underwear — twitching visibly through the gray cloth and staining a small circle where he leaks. 

“Hah! Oh, fuck!” Eren presses the back of his hand over his mouth and winces as his body starts trembling. “J-Jean… I’m not gonna — oh shit — I’m not gonna last if you wanna suck me…” he manages to gasp out. 

Jean lets out a low, trembling moan as he lifts his head and hooks his fingers around the waistband of Eren’s underwear. “I… had something a little different in mind…” he sighs as he slides the cotton undergarment off — he means to do it slowly and teasingly, but in the blazing heat of his eagerness he damn near rips them off with an animalistic urgency. 

Eren’s hard, pulsing cock is red and veiny, and the head shines from the precum that streams out of the slit. The sight makes Jean dizzy with lust — he licks his lips before leaning down to kiss the base of Eren’s cock and then the tip. “Holy shit, you look so pretty like this, Eren…”

The boy groans and sits up a little straighter before grabbing his cock with one hand and giving himself a short, much-needed, stroke. “Fuck. Okay… Can — can I just…” Eren aims his cock a little forward at Jean’s face. “Not to finish but — shit, your mouth is so good — can I just dip in once?” he asks breathlessly, eyes glazed over with lust. 

Jean forgets all of his plans in an instant when faced with Eren’s enticing and unabashed display of lewdness. His lips fall open of their own accord, and before he fully registers it, Jean finds himself leaning down lower. His ragged breaths brush over Eren’s swollen, leaking cockhead, making Eren hiss in a sharp breath and causing his guiding hand to squeeze down a tad harder.

Jean’s hips start to sway as he struggles to maintain his composure. Eren’s adorable excitability makes him impossibly hot, every damn time he witnesses it. His fingers claw into Eren’s sides as he wraps his lips around Eren’s frenulum, running his tongue gingerly around Eren’s cockhead and over the slit, prompting a burst of precum to leak out. The familiar taste of salt lights a fire in Jean’s core.

“Shit that’s good…” Eren whispers hoarsely. He feels lightheaded with how turned on he is, but there’s a fair bit of wariness he feels too. Jean had only given him head once — the situation is still new to the other boy and Eren doesn’t want to push past any limits. 

But he’s so fucking weak for the visual in front of him. Jean bent over, parted pink lips wet with a mixture of saliva and precum, eyes hazy and half-shut, that perfect fucking blush coloring him like a summer rose…

Daringly, Eren guides his cockhead to paint a streak of precum over Jean’s cheek, slowly smearing it down to Jean’s lips where he brushes the head back and forth a few times; the tingling pleasure is secondary to the mind-numbing image. “Fuck, you look like such a —” Eren cuts himself off with a moan, biting back the vulgar word before it dares to slip out. 

Jean freezes, giving Eren a wide-eyed stare as the boy paints his face with his slick. “I — I look like what?” he barely manages to choke out as his stomach does somersaults and his heart pounds harder in his chest. His hands find their way back to Eren’s hips, and he squeezes them hard as he awaits an answer that he isn’t sure Eren will give him…

Eren blinks and freezes in turn. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out except a strangled choked sound. He’s really not certain he should say the word out loud — Jean knows he’s a dirty-talker but he’s never used those kinds of words with his boyfriend. 

“I — uh — I meant…” Eren screams at himself for the way he’s fucking this up. “Just, you looked really hot…” 

Jean isn’t convinced that that’s the whole truth, but the compliment still makes him blush against Eren’s cockhead. He feels Eren shiver underneath him and remembers that the boy really isn’t going to last much longer if he keeps up his teasing. Now is his chance.

Don’t think too hard; just do.

After leaving one last kiss on Eren’s cockhead, Jean pulls back and moves his hands to Eren’s thighs, kissing and massaging them until he reaches the boy’s crotch. He cups Eren’s scrotum in his hand and gives it a few firm squeezes as he shuffles beside Eren and then turns the boy on his side. His hand moves over Eren’s hip and onto the boy’s asscheek, which he strokes and grips with possessive purpose.

Eren’s embarrassment quickly vanishes under Jean’s clever touches and he melts a little into them — his posture falling slack as he reclines a bit on his elbows, leaving his cock to lay flat on his abs, twitching and leaking. “S-so if you’re not gonna blow me with those lips…” he slurs, grinning softly. “Can ya at least kiss me?”

“With pleasure.” Jean lies down and presses his chest flush against Eren’s back, turning the boy’s face with one hand before hungrily claiming his lips with his own. He then moves that hand lower, shifting Eren’s leg upward with a push to his thigh before snaking his fingers between Eren’s spread cheeks. While he traces intricate patterns along the inside of Eren’s mouth with his tongue, his fingers fumble around a bit before finding Eren’s asshole and hesitantly tracing the rim.

Eren’s entire body jolts with surprise as he pops out of the deep tonguing that Jean was doing in his mouth. “Jean!” He can’t keep the shock or the arousal out of his voice and it morphs his cry into something much higher-pitched than usual. “But… I thought…” Eren can’t really think at all right now because Jean’s finger is there tracing hesitant circles and he wants to die, it’s such a good tease. 

His hips thrust back into the pressure without his say-so and he has to wrangle his body back under control before Jean gets spooked out or something. Whatever happens he does not want that finger gone. “Are — are you okay with this?” He can’t help asking, nerves eating at his pleasure. 

Jean’s heart leaps when he feels Eren’s hips buck into his touch — his breath hitches before a shaky sigh falls from his lips. The burning sensation on his cheeks quickly intensifies; he tries to hide it by burying his face in the crook of Eren’s neck and kissing it tenderly. “Hey, my hand wouldn’t be there if I weren’t okay with it, right?” he whispers to him before kissing his shoulder. “It’s alright, you can relax…”

Jean takes a slow breath in and out as he starts tracing the rim of Eren’s asshole with more conviction. He’s done this before. He has nothing to be afraid of. He has no reason to make Eren worry with unnecessary cowering.

I can do this…

“O-okay…” Eren shivers and tries to force himself to relax. He’s not sure if the nervousness he feels is because he worries that Jean will back off suddenly… or if it’s coming from sheer shock. 

Regardless, as soon as Jean’s slow breaths brush over his shoulder, warm lips just barely grazing his skin, Eren feels arousal take the place of any nerves and it’s all he can do to keep himself somewhat still. He rocks back however — if Jean is okay with this… surely Eren could try to push him, make him toe that line, wherever it is drawn. 

“Fuck it feels good…” he whispers, angling his head back while stretching an arm behind him to run his fingers through Jean’s short hair. “C-can I fuck my fist while you do that?”

“...Slowly, alright?” Jean can’t suppress the stream of sighs that Eren draws out of him by so gently stroking his hair. It’s grounding enough that his racing heart finally starts to slow down. He bites his lip as his gaze shifts downward and locks onto Eren’s cock, still red and swollen as it twitches against the boy’s stomach.

“Hng! Thank — oh fuck — thank you…” Eren manages to hiss as his free hand launches to his cock. He palms the head gently, gathering the overabundant precum to spread it down the stem of his length. He can’t stop from bucking into the sensation and privately he realizes that he’s not two strokes away from orgasm. 

Jean said he could fist his cock — he didn’t quite say he could cum… but then again — as Eren runs his hand up to the tip of his cock and feels Jean’s pointer finger make a daring swipe over his hole — he didn’t say he couldn’t.

“M’close…” he whimpers, awaiting Jean’s instruction with bated breath. 

That statement floods Jean’s stomach with molten-hot lust, but it’s speckled with icy flecks of anxiety. He feels silly for being so nervous — it’s a simple act that will make Eren feel really good — and so despite his nerves, he badly wants this to work out. Maybe that’s why he can’t stop his thoughts from racing, Jean wonders silently as he scans the room again for a very important tool that he’d almost forgotten:

On a nearby table, next to a pile of leather scraps, he spots a few small clay pots. He figures they should contain vaseline, or whatever the tailors use to condition their leatherwork. It’s not exactly gear-oil, but it’s slick enough to do the trick.

Don’t think; just do.

“Wait right here.” Jean kisses Eren’s ear and pats the boy’s hip before getting to his feet and swiping one of the clay pots off the table. He removes its lid and casts it aside as he sits back down next to Eren, dipping his pointer finger into the vaseline and coating it with the thick, silky substance. “Yeah, that should be enough,” he half-whispers to assure himself. 

“Jean? What…” Eren starts and then gets nicely quieted when Jean lies back down behind him, pressing a sweet, almost shy kiss to the back of Eren’s neck before putting the tip of his slicked-up finger back on Eren’s asshole, causing the boy to gasp softly…

Jean’s heart lodges itself in his throat.

No, don’t think.

Just do.

Jean sinks his teeth into Eren’s shoulder as he slowly pushes his pointer finger into Eren’s opening. He’s only in up to his first knuckle, but he’s already overwhelmed by how tightly Eren squeezes around his fingertip… how burning hot he is…

“J-Jean?” Eren squeaks, his whole body shaking like a newborn foal. He’s almost certain that Jean did not mean to press in that deep — that the boy meant to go back to circling around his hole. Eren’s hand on his cock freezes as he waits for Jean to draw back out, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and lips. 

Jean does no such thing — he pants heavily into Eren’s shoulder as he holds his finger in place, moving the tip in small circles. It gives him something to do that isn’t listening to the urge to pull out. He’s never made it this far into the act while imagining it, so he feels almost at a loss for what comes next. (But not really — he knows what comes next; it’s just unfortunate that he’s blown through all of his courage for the night to get to this point).

“Jean…” Eren squirms a little, nervously turning his head to the side to look at Jean’s face. “Y-you’re um — you’re inside me…” He says dumbly, wondering why Jean hasn’t moved out yet. It had to be an accident. It couldn’t be —

— it couldn’t be intentional… could it? The thought alone makes Eren’s cock jump and makes his heart snap into a rhythm almost too fast to breathe through.

“I — I know that.” Jean has to push the words out of his throat, his voice tight and husky as his hand starts to tremble slightly. “I meant for that to happen,” he whispers to Eren, daring to push his finger in just a little bit deeper, to prove that he means it.

“Ohhh!” With a suddenness that leaves him lightheaded — and with enough force to make him gasp — Eren comes untouched right over his stomach, feeling the sharp wave of pleasure hit him like lightning. The aftershocks are much lighter than usual but Eren feels more dumbstruck than anything else.

Jean hadn’t even grazed his prostate. The boy wasn’t even two knuckles deep! “Oh my fucking god…” Eren can’t even feel properly mortified at his premature orgasm, because Jean’s finger is still in him and that means he felt every clench and pulse that his body made through his mind-numbing pleasure. 

The sensations catch Jean off-guard, but strange and unexpected as they are, they’re nothing short of heavenly. He briefly fantasizes about Eren pulsing around his cock like that, and he moans shamelessly into Eren’s neck, pressing another hot, wet kiss to the spot as his hips buck up into Eren’s lower back. “Fuck that was so hot…” he sighs as he strokes the boy’s hair with his free hand. “Mmh, love the sound of your pretty voice when you come apart like that.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jean…” Eren laughs weakly, dragging a hand down his face as he glances down to see the mess he’s made of himself. It wasn’t even a proper cum-shot, mostly precum — like his balls had been caught off-guard as well. “Well, fuck me… When did you get the courage to try this all of a sudden, hmm?” 

Eren turns around, dislodging Jean’s finger, but he’s still a bit sensitive, so the break might actually help. Gently, he cradles Jean’s face between his hands and presses a kiss lightly on Jean’s lips before he has a chance to answer. “Actually, wait…” he hums, pressing another, longer, kiss to those tempting lips, which Jean gleefully reciprocates. “Okay I’m good now for a minute, answer me.”

“It was… nothing in particular.” Jean smiles sheepishly as he averts his gaze for a second. The butterflies in his stomach slowly mend a few of his frayed nerves, and he takes another slow, steadying breath as he gathers his muddled thoughts. “I know how much you want it, and I wanted you to forget about all your worries tonight…” He presses a kiss to each of Eren’s cheeks as his blush deepens. “So it felt like the right time to make that move.”

“Jean…” Eren coos, blushing at the sweet kisses and feeling so damn loved that it almost hurts. He hides his face under Jean’s jaw, tucking himself against the other boy’s chest as he squeezes Jean in a tight hug. “Well… it worked,” he says softly against the fabric of Jean’s shirt.

And then he realises that Jean is still fucking dressed . Affronted at his own lack of reciprocation, he jolts up into a sitting position, ignoring Jean’s startled reaction, and quickly sets himself the task of stripping each article of clothing off his boyfriend in as fast and efficient a manner as possible. 

“It worked real good… ‘cause clearly I forgot to get you in a proper state for what I want to do to you.” He flips out each button easily and then moves to straddle Jean as he presses the fabric off his shoulders. His own cock hasn’t softened one bit, and it slaps down heavily on Jean’s abdomen as he bends down to leave a line of kisses across Jean’s shoulder and down his collarbone. But Eren pointedly ignores it… for now.

Jean tips his head back and tries to steady his breathing, but the feeling of Eren’s hips and cock pressing onto his body leaves him blushing helplessly under Eren’s ministrations. He runs his hands down Eren’s back and clutches at his hips before asking in a rough, gasping voice: “And just what the hell are you planning?”

Eren hates to break out of Jean’s warm hold on his hips but he has to if he wants to get at Jean’s cock that’s currently tenting his trousers. Granted — the sight is rather gorgeous. Slowly, he shuffles backwards until he can stand up on his knees, bracketing Jean’s legs. Then, with a meaningfulness to his motions… he drags his hands up from Jean’s knees to his hips before drawing them inwards to his belt. 

“Honestly?” Eren says quietly. “I’ve got so many things I wanna do to you right now it’s hard to decide.” 

He unbuckles Jean’s belt with a flick. “I wanna suck you off ‘till you can’t breathe…” 

The topmost button of Jean’s trousers gets opened. “I wanna use that slick shit you put on me and give you a hand-job that you’ll remember during class tomorrow…” 

The zipper gets pulled down and the flaps of Jean’s open trousers are spread. “I wanna grind down on you until you cum right on my asshole…” 

Eren pauses, his eyes dark as night and his grin glitters somehow, even in the dimness of the room. “But you tell me, Jean — what do you want?”

“Ah — Sina, Eren…” Jean squirms underneath the boy as that series of beautifully arousing images floods his mind and makes his muscles ache with burning lust. It takes all of his willpower not to reach down and pull his cock out himself. “H-hurry up and get this shit off me,” he sputters out while it starts to twitch and push against his underwear. “I — I wanna feel your mouth on me…”

Eren, for a moment at least, pretends to listen. He tugs Jean’s trousers off fully, tossing the garment somewhere that they’ll hopefully find later, but with Jean’s standard-issued gray underwear he doesn’t do anything but tease at the waistband.

“I dunno Jean…” he hums with a grin. “You look really fuckin’ hot like this… all straining and wet under there…” Eren suddenly bends down and shoves his face right up against the bulge in Jean’s underwear, breathing hotly over it and savoring the spicy scent of his boyfriend’s arousal. He opens his mouth and presses it against the stiff form, bracing his tongue against the cloth in a perfect tease over the ridge of Jean’s cockhead.

Even through the fabric, the warmth of Eren’s mouth sends shivers all through Jean’s body. He chokes back a moan as his hips buck up and his breaths become shallower. A tease like this shouldn’t feel so damn dizzying, he thinks in some distant corner of his mind as arousal pools in his gut. “Cut it out, you fuckin’ tease,” he hisses, but his breathy voice hardly sounds imposing enough to sell the line.

Eren chuckles against Jean’s cock and licks over the cloth to where there’s a small dark spot — evidence that Jean is liking this, regardless of what he says. “Nah, see…” He presses a hot kiss right over the cockhead and then moves his hands up to hold down Jean’s hips — pinning him still. “You got to see me get all desperate today, and I know you liked that — seein’ me dance back and forth until I couldn’t handle it anymore, until I just had to go…” Eren blushes slightly at the memory before turning his hawk-like focus back to Jean. “So I think it’s only fair if I get to see you do the same little dance. I want you so damn desperate to cum that you beg me to just jerk you off in your underwear. Whatcha think Jean, gonna try and resist?”

“The fuck kinda question is that?” Jean huffs and rolls his eyes, but his charming smirk never falls from his face. “We might be here a while, if that’s your game…” He reaches behind Eren’s neck to rub gentle circles into the sensitive skin. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

Eren’s eyes widen tellingly as his cheeks bloom pink. Damn it! Jean and his stupid fucking smooth words… More to get him back than anything else, Eren slips his fingers under Jean’s waistband, gripping it and tugging it down an inch so that the bright red of Jean’s cockhead just barely peeks out. 

Then with a smirk, Eren gently tugs the waistband back and forth, rubbing it over the sensitive frenulum at a wickedly slow pace. “I challenged you , Jean — obviously I’m up for it,” Eren says lightly. 

Jean makes a valiant effort to maintain his cocky poker face, but he’s simply too sensitive now, and Eren’s torturously slow teasing is setting his whole groin on fire. His lips quiver as his breaths begin to stutter, and he struggles to think clearly about anything other than his dire need for satisfying stimulation. “Hah — hng! — fuck… damn you, Eren…”

A bolt of electric-feeling pleasure shoots up through Eren’s spine at Jean’s frustration. He might be mostly a masochist — but he’s got a little sadism in his heart… and that part of him is very satisfied with the delicious look on Jean’s face: like he can’t decide if he wants to strangle Eren or start breaking down for him. 

“Yeah… feels good doesn’t it?” Eren simpers, moving the rough band in small circles by tugging it up and down as well as sideways. “C’mon, Kirstein, admit you want more… if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll listen…”

“I ain’t your pet, Yeager — nh! Hahh…” Jean can’t stop his hips from swaying, as much as it mortifies him. He clutches the blanket underneath him and grits his teeth as a wave of bright-hot pleasure crashes over him.

“Hm, no?” Eren tugs the band a little lower and eyes the bright redness of Jean’s cock, spying a drop of precum at the tip. He feels hot from head to toe and wants nothing more than to take Jean’s cock into his mouth and lap up that tempting droplet. But he also equally wants to hear Jean’s voice broken by sobs as he begs Eren to just let him cum. And truly, the latter desire wins out easily. 

“Ah, look how red you’re getting — don’t wanna chafe you do we?” Eren bends over and spits directly over Jean’s cockhead, feeling perversely giddy with the sight before he tugs the waistband over the wetness and smears it down. 

Jean watches Eren intently, with wide eyes and furrowed brows. He feels like he should be much more bothered by being spat on, but the wetness is such a welcome relief from the rough friction that all he can do is sigh pathetically in response.

“Mh — quit fuckin’ with me already… take it off, dammit!”

Eren giggles and does no such thing. He watches as the gray cloth gets noticeably darker with his spit and decides that he likes that a lot . “Awww, you beggin’ already, Jean-boy?” He tugs the waistband down again, but instead of spitting directly down, he takes his time and lets a long line of spittle drip over the glistening cockhead. When it finally snaps he rewards Jean’s begging with a firm grip of his hand over the clothed portion of his cock, dragging his hand from Jean’s balls upwards, taking care that at no point does his skin come into direct contact with Jean’s skin. 

“Oh, why the hell do you keep doin’ — ahn!” Jean forgets his frustration with Eren’s nasty antics entirely once he feels that solid hold on his clothed length. He half-successfully swallows a litany of desperate whimpers as he pushes his hips against Eren’s hand, getting closer to the kind of pressure that he wants but still not close enough. The sparks that had once pleasantly danced over his skin are now pricking at him rather sharply.

Eren snorts at Jean’s obvious disgust, but he is very pleased with Jean’s also obvious desperation — and he definitely wants more of that. So he plants one hand right over Jean’s stomach, pressing down over his navel with the flat of his palm for a moment just to feel the strength of Jean’s lower abs, before dragging the hand upwards and groping at one of Jean’s pecs. 

“Sina, you look so fuckin’ hot right now, Jean…” he hums, pleased. The hand which grips Jean’s cock moves down again, gently cupping his scrotum and teasingly rolling it over his fingers. “But I’m not halfway done with you, baby, so you’re gonna need to hold on for a bit longer, think you can do that?”

Eren feels Jean’s chest rise and fall with a frantic, stuttering rhythm. Jean’s back arches slightly the moment that Eren’s hand presses onto his hard nipple, and his thighs spread open a little wider as Eren massages his balls. His precum leaks onto his abdomen in streams — he has to shut his eyes to the embarrassing sight as his ears turn bright red and his blush trickles down to his chest.

“Don’t you worry about me. I — shit! — I’m not lettin’ you win that easy… mmh…”

Eren’s eyes follow Jean’s when they flutter down for a heartbeat and when he sees the way Jean leaks over his own stomach — Eren’s mouth goes dry. 

He gives Jean’s nipple a soft pinch, drawing a sharp gasp out of Jean, before darting his other hand up to gather some of the precum from Jean’s stomach, careful not to brush against the straining cockhead that continues to leak. “Fuckin’ hell… look at you, Jean,” Eren whispers thickly. “Not gonna let me win? Heh, I’ve already won.” Eren slips the glistening digit into his mouth and moans around it, initially for show, but then for real when the taste makes him float. 

“Stop that!” Jean’s voice cracks as he shouts, and his eyes threaten to pop right out of their sockets. He slaps a hand over his mouth, praying that somehow Eren didn’t hear that. His heart races like mad, and Eren’s persistent pinching and twisting of his nipple is certainly not helping the matter.

Eren slips his finger out and looks at Jean with a positively evil grin. “Stop what? I’m not doin’ anything…” He replaces the hand with the wet digit down to stroke once on Jean’s cock before tugging up the waistband so that nothing shows. “D’ya want to cum? Or are you fine if I play around with you a bit more?”

That one stroke makes Jean hot all over; he can’t stifle his keening no matter how badly he wants to. “I’m… not your toy, you little brat,” he somehow chokes out once he catches his breath again. He’s really not sure how much more of this he can take — but he refuses to give into Eren while he still has at least a little steam left in him. “If you want me to beg, you’re gonna have to make me.”

Eren blinks. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to break Jean… but the boy is putting up a very admirable struggle. He grins… that’s nothing he can’t work with. “Alright… I’ll make you then.” 

Eren shifts up, moving both his hands to Jean’s hips where he forces them down onto the ground and pins them there, making certain that Jean can’t buck or sway one inch. Then, with not inconsiderable relief, Eren adjusts his hips so that his cock slaps right alongside the bulge in Jean’s underwear. The sight of his naked dick against the straining cock hiding under the stained, tented gray fabric is erotic enough to make Eren freeze for a moment. But just a moment, because then he begins to slowly rut against Jean’s cock.

Jean stares dumbly at his crotch, transfixed by the pretty sight of Eren’s cock pressed against his own… but Sina be damned if he isn’t fucking infuriated by his own cock being covered. The fabric around his cockhead is quickly soaked in precum as Eren lightly grinds their lengths together — the friction is both too much and not enough at all. Jean tries to buck up into Eren’s hips and fails, too weak and disoriented from the relentless teasing to break out of Eren’s iron grip on his hips. 

Jean feels a small knot start to form in his gut, and his frustration makes his body burn somehow even hotter. “Fuck! Eren, you’re driving me insane — just take it off already!”

Eren lifts his hips up a little and gravity assists him as he teasingly drags his dripping cockhead up and down the protrusion in Jean’s underwear, leaving slippery lines of precum that slowly soak and stain the cotton a dark black. “Tell me you wanna cum… I wanna hear you ask for it, Jean.” Eren barely recognises his own voice. It’s dark and demanding; not quite a growl but if he had been a little older — if his voice had been a little deeper — it would have been. 

“Since when do I take orders from you?” Jean hisses through gritted teeth. Then, through an especially damp patch of fabric, the head of Eren’s cock grazes Jean’s frenulum at just the right angle, and he lets out a strangled cry as his whole body seizes. The pleasure is electric, with a hot and almost painful edge to it. 

“Fuck — oh, shit…” Jean’s head spins as the throbbing of his cock intensifies with each passing second. “Eren, I can’t — shit — I… I need to cum soon…”

Eren’s breath hitches and his hips stutter in their confident rocking. He has to force himself to breathe, to resume his gentle thrusts. But now they aren’t so gentle. He releases Jean’s hips and places his hands instead on Jean’s shoulders as he leans over him. The new angle means that he can thrust with much more accuracy and he takes his time, rolling his hips so that his cock rubs up and down along Jean’s length. 

“Fuck… look how much I’m leakin’ on you…” Eren hisses, his own eyes glued to the mesmerizing rolling of their cocks. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more turned on by simple frottage. “Y’look so good, Jean… You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me…” 

Jean wraps his arms around Eren’s back and claws into Eren’s shoulders, rolling his hips in perfect time with Eren’s as a long stream of loud, needy moans escape his throat. He’s almost ashamed of how much Eren’s words alone are doing it for him right now, but he’s too busy drowning in the thick, heady pleasure to really care too much.

Eren speeds up his thrusts, pressing down a little harder and knocking their hips as he shoves himself up and down. It’s messy, and almost animal with how uncoordinated it is, but that’s the perfect recipe to coax even more frustration from Jean. 

Except, now Eren is getting frustrated too… His first orgasm had been shocking and sudden and not at all enough; he had expected Jean to break down far sooner than this, so when he groans out his words, though they are a command, they come out sounding more like a plea. “C’mon Jean… say it,” he groans, his voice rough like stone. “Tell me you wanna cum — c’mon, fuckin’ say it!” 

Jean doesn’t register Eren’s demand until the second time that he repeats it. Every inch of him is burning. Eren has made a mess of him, soaking his underwear and his stomach in both his own and Eren’s slick, and that warm, wet feeling has turned him into a mewling, panting wreck. Eren has him pinned here like this… 

And as much as it pains him to admit, he doesn’t have the will to fight his way back on top right now. All that Jean wants is more of everything that Eren is doing to him.

“Alright, fine! Fuckin’ hell — agh! I wanna cum, Eren; I really wanna cum right now.” Jean’s fingernails drag roughly down Eren’s back, leaving long, red marks. “Happy now?”

Eren can’t answer with words; he can only groan as he lifts himself up and rushes to tug down Jean’s underwear, tucking it just under Jean’s balls. But he doesn’t touch Jean at all — instead he starts fisting his own cock over Jean’s. Not even gracing the boy with frottage. “Yeah — hah — fuck. Over the damn moon…” he grits out between his teeth as his strokes get faster. 

“What the hell are you — !” Jean squirms and writhes helplessly, cursing under his breath for being so suddenly deprived of contact. “Dammit, Eren, what are you doing?”

Eren tips his hips forward just a smidge and works the head of his cock at a speed that might have been painful had he not been so fucking turned on. “Cumming…” he grunts and then does exactly that. Right over Jean’s cock. Spitting out line after line of white cum that lands over the cockhead and drips down all the way to Jean’s balls. 

Jean almost can’t handle the sight of Eren painting his cock white with his cum — his stomach drops, pushed down by a heavy wave of arousal, and he has to shove his fist into his mouth to muffle the sounds of his groaning, equal parts frustrated and needy. He only lowers his fist to level a proper glare at Eren. “I told you that I wanna cum, didn’t I? Mmph, hah — what are you waiting for, huh!?”

“Relax stud… I’m not done with you…” Eren sighs, wringing out the last bit of cum from his cock before smoothly shifting down until he is at face-level with Jean’s glistening length. He gives Jean what he hopes is a sexy smirk — but it’s probably softer in the wake of his recent orgasm. Regardless of what it looks like, Eren opens his mouth and in one movement takes Jean’s cum-coated cock right into his mouth.

Jean’s jaw drops as soon as Eren’s warm mouth envelops him, but no sound comes out for a moment — the intensity of his pleasure chokes him. He’d honestly thought that Eren had forgotten his initial request, and to be honest, he’d effectively forgotten it himself. 

But now that Eren’s tongue is sliding down and up his length to tease at his cockhead with playful licks and tight circles, he couldn’t be more glad to get his wish granted. When Jean can breathe again, he releases a long, relieved and rumbling groan as he daringly pushes his hips forward. He grips Eren’s hair and strokes his scalp, encouraging him to take him in deeper…

If there’s one thing that Eren considers himself very good at, it’s sucking cock. And while deep-throating is something he doesn’t do frequently, as it does cost him his voice for a few hours, at this moment he doesn’t think it’s possible not to swallow Jean to the hilt. 

He takes Jean’s subtle cues to heart and sucks in a deep breath through his nose before shoving himself all the way down Jean’s cock — and fuck it burns. He chokes but doesn’t let himself up yet, even when he feels tears pop up in his eyes and spill over his cheeks. 

“Ohhhh, fuck yes!” The tightness of Eren’s throat feels even better than Jean thought it would. It firmly squeezes and pulses around his tender, swollen cockhead, coaxing precum to pour out of the slit, sliding right down Eren’s throat in near-constant streams. Jean’s back arches sharply; his hips quiver as they sway from side to side. “Fuck that feels so good,” he gasps, slurring his words a bit, and his grip on Eren’s hair tightens. “Please keep that up, babe — ahh!”

Eren slides off to gasp wetly, spit and precum dripping off his lips as he pants. He doesn’t bother saying anything and instead only shoves his hair off his face and dives right back onto Jean’s cock, giving the head a twisting suction a few times before once more burying his nose into Jean’s pubic bones. He chokes again, the head of Jean’s cock hitting the back of his throat and slipping deeper . He almost gags. 

Jean sees a new expanse of stars each time that Eren sucks him. He melts under the heat of his intense pleasure, becoming putty in Eren’s hands (or in his mouth, rather). His grip on Eren’s hair tightens as his panting grows heavier. “Ah, yeah, that’s it… mmph, fuck, you’re perfect, doll…”

Eren forces himself to pull off slowly , the burning need for air secondary to his need for Jean’s pleasure. But when he does pop off the head of Jean’s cock, gasping heavily, he is outrageously thankful for the oxygen in his lungs. Lazily he fists Jean’s cock to give himself a chance to catch his breath. “S’good?” he slurs thickly.

“Very good,” Jean sighs as he playfully tousles Eren’s hair. That dark, hazy look in the boy’s eyes floods every fiber of Jean’s being with adoration and desire. “I need more — can you give that to me, princess?”

Eren’s blush colors every bit of his cheeks and even reaches his ears, but he only smiles wetly and moves to press his heated cheek against Jean’s cock, dragging the wet length over his skin without a trace of shame. “Yeah…” he whispers, “I can do that.” He opens his mouth and drags his tongue from the root of Jean’s cock to the crown, pausing there for a moment to press some suctioning kisses over the slit. 

Jean’s whole body tenses as electric pleasure ripples through it. He loses his words for a moment, and a stream of whimpering moans leave his lips in their stead. Every touch of Eren’s lips or tongue to his cock brings him so close to the edge, but none of it has been enough to trigger the release that he so desperately craves. “You can go faster — harder — anything,” he pleads. “I just — fuck, I need more, Eren…”

Eager to please — but also rather impatient to see Jean cum — Eren diligently throws himself into the task. He plants his hands at the root of Jean’s cock, keeping it perfectly propped up so that he can easily slide down the length at just the right angle.

What he doesn’t realize until it’s too late is that the angle forces that extra inch down his gullet as well — and for the first time since that memorable moment in the gear shed — Eren gags. 

Eren’s throat gives Jean’s cockhead the perfect squeeze as it tries to push him out. Jean’s head spins, and the mangled knots in his gut feel like they’re seconds away from snapping. He chases that sensation like his life depends on it — Eren had started to pull away, but just before Eren’s lips slide over his frenulum, Jean grabs the back of the boy’s head with both hands and pushes him back down. “No, no,” he mutters, “that spot was it. Stay right there…”

Eren’s hands curl on Jean’s groin as he feels a small inkling of panic — he had been coming up for air, the sudden assault on his gag reflex forcing that breath he had taken right out of his nose. But Jean’s voice is desperate and Eren thinks he can push down one more time — just for a second — just for Jean.

He lets Jean’s hands push him down again and tries to pull in a shallow breath through his nose before his windpipe gets forcibly shut by Jean’s throbbing cock. 

Jean’s hips jerk frantically back and forth as he mercilessly fucks Eren’s throat, struggling to get deep enough to relocate that spot he likes so much. But Eren’s throat keeps closing on him right as he’s about to thrust in. He can’t get the timing right. The rest of Eren’s mouth is so warm and wet and lovely that it’s distracting — it’s dizzying.

Jean breaks through the block by sheer luck — he shoves his cockhead past the boy’s gullet right as it opens, and he gets another taste of that sudden, sharp pressure around his frenulum as Eren gags. Once again, the heat in Jean’s groin builds quickly, but it hits its ceiling too soon to free him from his agony. It’s still not enough.

Jean curses under his breath as he pushes down harder on Eren’s head.

This time, Eren panics for real. His throat feels raw and there’s a spot that Jean keeps hammering that is bound to bruise in some form, but more importantly: Eren can’t fucking breathe.

He taps Jean’s thigh rapidly hoping that the message will get through to the boy as tears stream down his face and soft black spots start appearing in his vision.

Fortune is not on Jean’s side for his third attempt to recapture his near-release. Eren’s throat stays firmly closed, and Jean’s arousal is rapidly drowned out by his frustration. The longest seven seconds of Eren’s life pass by before Jean registers the frantic tapping on his thigh. His heart damn near explodes as the cause for the panicked signal finally clicks. 

He hurriedly moves his hands to Eren’s shoulders and shoves him backwards, holding his breath as he stares with wide eyes, praying that Eren has enough strength to draw air back into his lungs.

“Eren? Eren are you — fuck, please talk to me…”

The boy draws in a deep breath that hurts as much as it relieves his aching lungs. He gulps down air like he’s never breathed before, choking on the drool and precum that drips out of his mouth. 

Weakly, Eren brushes the back of his hand over his chin and then spits out the mess of fluid from his mouth. His vision is still a bit fuzzy and he’s not quite sure he can hear things properly because there’s this high-pitched ringing that drowns out everything else around him. 

Slowly though, sounds begin to filter back through, and his breathing doesn’t hurt quite so much. He feels like he’s burning up from the inside — like his throat is on fire — but that doesn’t stop him from choking out some response to Jean’s growing panic. “I’m — fuck — I’m fine! Shit… relax Jean,” he coughs. 

“You —” Jean grits his teeth and clenches his fists hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “You don’t sound fine…”

Eren sits back on his ass heavily and chokes out a wheezy-sounding laugh. “‘Cause you fuckin’ raw-dogged my throat, Jean,” he says, almost surprised at how gravelly his voice comes out. 

The levity in Eren’s speech melts the tension in Jean’s muscles. Only he could joke like that after almost choking to death… He would find it hilarious if he weren’t personally responsible for the scare.

Eren looks at Jean’s cock — still hard, dripping and painfully red — and then looks back at Jean with a quirked brow. “What’s wrong? What’s stoppin’ you from finishing?”

Jean closes his thighs a bit as he releases a soft, stuttering sigh. “Honestly, I have no fuckin’ idea…” 

Eren frowns at the non-answering answer. Carefully, he moves on all fours and crawls up until he can comfortably sit back on his heels and grab Jean’s face with both his hands, pressing a kiss smack on his boyfriend’s pouting lips. 

He breaks away with a soft smile. “My killer techniques aren’t enough for your prissy ass?”

“Guess not,” Jean laughs before leaning in to kiss Eren again, a bit longer and a bit slower. He presses their foreheads together as he breaks away, lovingly tracing the curves of Eren’s triceps and biceps. “I’m almost there, though… got any more clever tricks to push me over the edge?”

Eren grins a little evilly and slips one of his hands over Jean’s thigh before squeezing it between his still-somewhat-closed legs, wrapping his fingers around the burning hot cock and stroking it firmly a few times. “Sure I do…” he hums, pulling his hand up to trace the slit of Jean’s cockhead with his pointer finger. “Lie down for me, baby, lemme take care of you.”

Jean’s hips roll helplessly as Eren expertly touches and teases his cock. “Mmh — alright…” He swallows and blushes furiously as he slowly leans backwards until he’s lying flat on the blanket. 

Eren follows him but only so much that he can kneel over Jean’s prone form, one hand still gently working his cock, tugging the foreskin up over the head before slowly dragging it down — it’s more to keep Jean aroused than to tease or grant any real satisfaction. “Hmm, was that your first time getting edged?” he asks softly, employing his other hand up in Jean’s hair to massage his scalp. 

“Getting edged?” Jean’s perplexed expression doesn’t stay on his face for long; it quickly relaxes as he tips his head back to lean into Eren’s touch. “What the hell are you… mmh… you makin’ shit up to confuse me?”

Eren’s hand briefly freezes on Jean’s head as his eyes widen comically. “Oh, no fuckin’ way you haven’t at least heard of it…” He laughs, not cruelly though — it’s more in disbelief than anything else. But to stay on Jean’s good side he presses a soft kiss to the long, pale column of his boyfriend’s neck, just barely hiding his smile. “That shit I just did to you — teasin’ and makin’ you beg for it — that’s like low-grade edging. And if I’m guessing right, you probably don’t do that to yourself when you jerk off, yeah?”

“Hell no.” Eren doesn’t see it, but Jean rolls his eyes at him as he clicks his tongue. “If I’m trying to get off, then what the fuck is the point of cutting myself off?”

Eren lifts his face from the crook of Jean’s neck and snorts. “It makes it feel better when you do cum — little thing called delayed gratification , Jean.” He glances down at where his hand still works up and down Jean’s cock, keeping him nice and hard but not picking up the pace. “It’s why I always cut myself off before hittin’ the high.”

Jean’s gaze follows Eren’s, and he huffs at the sorry sight of his swollen, straining length. “Maybe that works for you, but now that you’ve done it to me I can’t cum at all.” He looks back up at his boyfriend with an unimpressed expression. “What the fuck did you do, Eren?”

The guilty party giggles at Jean’s disgruntled and mostly displeased pout, and then carefully dips the tip of his finger into Jean’s piss slit. “Nothing permanent; I’ll get you there, don’t worry,” Eren says with a smirk. “Your body is just workin’ against you now because you’ve tricked it one too many times. I think what you need —” Eren drags the tip of his finger, slick with a long strand of precum, over the rim of Jean’s cockhead, tracing the ridge delicately… “— is a good slow build. Hard and fast is just gonna freeze you up.”

“Yeah? Ah — mmh…” Jean shivers as Eren slows down his movements, poking and prodding at the most sensitive parts of his cock. “You’ll keep me well entertained for all that time? Get me back in working order?”

Eren moves to fist just the head of Jean’s cock, keeping a steady tempo with a firm grip and concentrating small circles right at the frenulum with his thumb. “When I said nice and slow…” he starts with a grin. “I meant I’d be goin’ nice and slow. But you’re gonna cum pretty quick.” 

Jean knits his brows together in indignation, but before he can formulate a smart retort, his breath is stolen by a heavy, rolling wave of pleasure. His head spins faster than before, reeling from how quickly Eren’s deft and purposeful touches are working their magic. “Ahn! Shit — fuck…”

“Yeah, see… you’re gonna feel it almost burn…” Eren whispers, and moves his other hand from Jean’s hair down to cup and roll his balls gently, all the while maintaining a steady tempo with the other. “It’s gonna feel like it’s comin’ from deeper in your gut…” Carefully, as to avoid scaring Jean, Eren dares to edge his thumb behind the boy’s scrotum, pressing very lightly and suggestively at his perineum. “Like it’s comin’ from here.”

“Mm — ah! Mhm!” Jean slaps his hand over his mouth, mortified by the sharp squeaking noises that he made when Eren pressed his fingers just behind his balls. He hardly ever touches himself there, so he’s shocked by how sensitive it is. Between that and the inferno raging in his core, Jean feels solidly overstimulated, but at least he’s getting somewhere now.

Encouraged by the fact that Jean is not currently kicking and screaming for him to pull away, Eren busies his mouth by trailing a few kisses up the side of Jean’s chest, dotting over each rib he passes. Then he quickly latches onto a nipple and lightly traces his tongue over the hardened nub. He adds a little more pressure to Jean’s frenulum with the thumb of his right hand, while his left mirrors the pressure on his perineum. 

“Oh, fuck! Sina!” Jean can’t keep himself still — he writhes helplessly underneath Eren, leaning into the boy’s every tantalizing touch even as strong jolts of pain rattle his body. Part of Jean screams to push Eren away, and part wants to pull him even closer, to drown in the acid-tinged pleasure that every stroke of Eren’s tongue and fingers brings him. “Please keep going, doll,” he begs breathlessly against his better judgment. “Please don’t stop — ah, hah! Fuck!”

Jean’s pleas do something to Eren’s mind and he almost loses it completely. A hot flash of arousal soaks him down to the bone and he moans helplessly against the nipple in his mouth. He lifts off of it to force a filthy kiss on Jean’s parted lips instead, pressing his tongue in without preamble. The hand on Jean’s cock speeds up and the thumb of his other hand starts to circle the sensitive skin of his perineum with much more intent — practically massaging it. 

Jean claws at the blanket underneath him and nearly rips it as he tugs at it, moaning loudly and roughly into Eren’s mouth. He tries to match the rhythm of Eren’s tongue-fucking but fails miserably — the strength of his pleasure has robbed him of his usual coordination.

Eren breaks their kiss rather suddenly and glances down to where Jean’s cockhead pokes in and out of his tight fist, the wet sucking sounds the only audio in the otherwise silent shed. “Fuck — you’re so damn wet Jean…” he whispers in awe, following the strands of precum as they dribble endlessly onto Jean’s stomach from his slit. Eren turns his attention back to Jean’s pink face, his expression a perfect picture of bashful lust. “You gonna cum for me, babe?” he huffs thickly. “C’mon, I can feel you’re almost there — almost there, baby.” 

“Fuck yes, please —” Jean chokes on the rest of his words and screws his eyes shut as waves of pain and pleasure crash down on him in swift succession. The impossibly tight knots in his gut finally snap, and Jean screams as his orgasm finally rips out of him, spraying his stomach in thick white spurts that Eren won’t stop milking out. 

“Fucking hell … Sina, that’s hot Jean — fuck, you did so good…” Eren gasps, his eyes locked onto Jean’s tear-streaked face. The sight nearly knocks him over with how shockingly erotic it is. “Oh fuck… Jean…”

Jean loses himself in the breathtaking beauty of Eren’s spellbound and adoring expression. The burning-blooming heat in his groin becomes almost too much to bear, and yet he just can’t get enough of it. All that Jean can do is choke out a sob in response as he thrusts messily into Eren’s fist.

Eren moves the hand at Jean’s perineum away to brush the heel of his palm at the tear-tracks on his boyfriend’s face, the feeling of disbelief mingling with something so damn warm and touched that he thinks his heart is having a damn orgasm or something. “God…” he rasps out, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

Eren’s words prompt a new burning sensation in Jean’s throat; the corners of his parted lips tremble as new tears threaten to fall from his eyes. Before they do, Jean grabs Eren’s face with one hand and pulls him in for another kiss. He takes his time tenderly caressing his boyfriend’s lips, and his soft sighs are briefly broken up by hiccups and nervous laughter. 

Slowly, Eren stops moving the hand on Jean’s cock, pulling the foreskin once more over the head before leaving the poor, abused thing alone. He traces instead upwards on Jean’s cum-glossed abs, spreading the mess with wide-stretched fingers. He pulls away from Jean’s addictive lips and cheekily licks a strip up his boyfriend’s salty cheek before planting a stupidly loud peck on the same cheek. “So?” he quips. “What’s the verdict? Do we like edging?”

Jean can’t help but laugh at the inquiry as he quickly wipes the tears from the other side of his face. “I… I have no clue how to describe what the fuck I just felt,” he admits with a shake of his head, “but I think I did like it, yeah.”

Eren sits back on his heels and clicks his tongue with a satisfied smirk. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a masochist in you too, Jean-boy.”

“Yeah right I do…” With shaky arms, Jean languidly pushes himself upright. He playfully shoves Eren’s shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze. “You just caught me way off guard.” The pads of his fingers stroke slow circles into the back of Eren’s shoulder. “But it was a damn good time, I’ll give you that.”

Eren preens a little at the soft touch and gives Jean a charming grin. “I thought I had to one-up you… that little trick you pulled earlier was — uh…” Eren blushes a little, uncharacteristic for him but damn it he hadn’t expected Jean to actually try and finger him. “It was really good…”

The memory of his rather pathetic (and yet somehow effective) attempt at fingering comes rushing back, and Jean flushes bright red in an instant. “Mm, you did seem to really like it… even though I didn’t get in that deep.” He laughs to try and ease the tension in his muscles as he smirks. “Am I just that good?”

Eren scoffs even as his blush deepens. “Don’t flatter yourself, you’ve got too-big an ego as it is, horse-face.” He crosses his arms over his chest and juts out his chin defiantly. “You just caught me off guard …” 

“Okay, now you’re just being difficult,” Jean huffs with a reluctant smile. He reaches up to poke Eren in the nose. “But next time it shouldn’t come as such a surprise,” he croons in a low tone. “So I’ll know for sure that when you start melting again it’ll be all my doing.”

“N-next time?” Eren blinks stupidly, and then promptly hides his face in both his hands. “ Jean… ” he whines, “you can’t just say things like that! ”

“And who’s gonna stop me?” Jean sweetly strokes Eren’s hair and plants a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “You liked the sound of that, didn’t you?”

Eren nods a little, feeling so damn warm that he wants to just melt into a puddle and get it over with. Regrettably, he isn’t made of goo, so he drops his hands and huffs a little to alleviate the burning blush on his face. “We should probably try to clean up…” he sighs with a twist to his nose.  

Jean nods and gently pushes Eren off of his thighs. “Yeah, now that I’ve come back to myself, I feel way too fuckin’ sticky,” he grumbles. “There should be some rags or fabric scraps on that table over there…” He gestures at it with a tip of his head. “Nobody will miss ‘em, I’m sure.”

Eren glances over at said table and rolls his eyes. “That’s my cue to get up and fetch them, isn’t it? Ugh — lazy.” He struggles up to his feet and moves to grab the rags, glancing around to see if there’s a god-given bucket of water crammed in a corner somewhere. 

There isn’t. 

“Dude, your little edging stunt turned my limbs into wet clay, alright?” Jean follows Eren with his eyes, chuckling at his boyfriend’s adorable pout. “This is the least you can do to help me out a little, yeah?”

Eren turns to Jean and plants one hand on his hip as he mockingly holds out the rags to his boyfriend. “Y’know I’m startin’ to think that I should be callin’ you princess…” he snickers. 

Jean’s jaw drops, and he huffs out an incredulous laugh as he swipes the rags out of Eren’s hands. “Absolutely not.” He turns away from Eren as he begins running a rag over his soiled stomach. He wants to project indignance but can’t wipe his shaky grin off of his face.

“Awww, kill-joy.” Eren plops back next to Jean, swiping a rag for himself as he attends to the mess on his fingers. “Could you imagine the look on Floch’s face if he heard me call you that? C’mon it’d be fucking hilarious.”

“Uh-huh…” Jean snickers at the picture that pops into his head. “Let me guess: he’d start crying out of envy?”

Eren hums thoughtfully for a moment, slipping the rag between his fingers to get at all the cum Jean had kindly left on him. “Probably… poor kid’s been nursin’ a puppy-crush for a fuckin’ year already. You’d think he’d get bored of me by now, heh.”

Jean pauses running his rag over the slick that coats his thighs. “Well, as annoying as you can be, you’re also pretty captivating.” He leans over to kiss the tip of Eren’s ear. “So I don’t blame him… but he’ll have to suffer from afar. You’re mine, remember?”

Something warm slips into Eren’s stomach at Jean’s words, but it’s quickly followed by a strangely cold sensation. He feels his brows furrow and has to fight off the frown that nearly forms on his face. 

He remembers suddenly the last kiss he shared with Floch — something he had conveniently forgotten about and refused to dig up while with Jean. He also thinks of Armin and Mikasa and the warmth that both their names fill him with. 

He sighs a little, frustrated with himself and his messed up understanding of romance. Jean has been thoroughly understanding — more than Eren expected, really — but everyone has a limit, and Eren’s worried he’s gonna cross that line at some point and really fuck it up. 

For now though, he’s a pretty big fan of ignoring the issue altogether. He turns and presses a slow kiss to Jean’s cheek, full of adoration. “Obviously.” 

Jean hums with great satisfaction and wraps his free arm around Eren’s waist, smiling at the boy as he gazes lovingly upon him. “That’s what I like to hear,” he whispers as he gently squeezes Eren’s hip. “Fuck, I really love you.”

“I love you too,” Eren breathes, feeling his heart squeeze painfully hard as he looks into Jean’s eyes. He kisses him once on the lips and smiles. “Love you so fuckin’ much.”

Chapter Text

About two days pass by with very little event to take note of. Eren manages to mostly escape the humiliating comments from the older cadets with a series of dodging and hiding behind his boyfriend, friends, and really anyone who’s willing to shelter him from the abuse. 

At one point even Christa has to help him escape the poking fingers and malicious eyes. Needless to say, Ymir is not too happy with Eren for dragging her girlfriend through that ordeal. 

It’s nighttime now, though; Eren’s laying on his back with Jean pressed up against his side, and thoughts will not stop spinning in his head. They are all too vague and uncomfortable — flashes of emotion and memory that he can’t make heads or tails of. They do little more than keep him uncomfortably awake. 

He sighs; the sounds of some fifty boys sleeping is shockingly quiet in the room and Eren feels like the silence is strangling him. 

Then he hears something. 

A small, weak voice mutters almost imperceptibly, half-forming words that drip with panic and sorrow.

“Don’t… no, don’t… help…”

Eren pushes himself up on his elbows, squinting in the direction of the voice because it sounds very much like… 

Armin!

For a moment Eren sits paralyzed and he waits, wondering if maybe the boy will fall back asleep — he doesn’t want to wake him if he doesn’t have to.

The sound of rustling sheets grows more pronounced, and the muttered pleading becomes more frantic and strained.

“Please, where… where are you… don’t… please, Eren…”

As soon as Eren hears his name he knows this nightmare isn’t one of those that goes away on its own. And if he remembers right — Armin might start screaming if it goes on much longer. 

He doesn’t really try not to wake Jean, elbowing him as he tosses the blankets off and rushes down the ladder before just jumping down the rest of the way to the floor. His haste shakes the cot violently which jars the amber-eyed boy from his sleep. 

Jean’s eyes fly open at once to scan the room and quickly find Eren as he runs to where Armin is tossing and turning. Even Connie is waking up from his death-like slumber with all the sudden commotion.

“Whuh —”

“Armin, hey… Armin wake up!” Eren sits on the cot and gently takes both of Armin’s shoulders in his hands, holding the smaller boy and hoping that the touch is enough to rouse him.

Armin wakes with a forceful start, jolting upright and grabbing Eren’s shirt at the chest with both hands. His tight fists shake worse than a newborn puppy left in the rain, and his small chest heaves painfully with each breath that he tries to take but can’t quite manage to. Armin slowly falls forward, pressing his forehead to Eren’s collarbone as sobs rack his trembling frame.

Eren wraps his arms tightly around Armin, running one hand up and down the boy’s spine while the other immediately goes up to thread through the messy blond strands — the boy had tossed and turned so much and had woken up in such a cold sweat that his hair is in worse condition than Jean’s. 

“You’re okay, ‘Min. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe…” Eren murmurs softly. He can see Connie sitting up on his side of the cot, looking over at Armin with an expression of concern — sleepy as it is. 

“‘S he okay?” 

Eren’s comforting touches slowly ground Armin back in the present, far from the horrors of their hometown’s destruction. Gradually, his grip on Eren’s shirt eases up as he remembers that he is alive, and so is Eren, and the two of them are safe.

Armin wraps his arms around Eren and squeezes him tightly as he tries his best to breathe and quiet his sobbing. “I… I’m sorry…” he mumbles into Eren’s shoulder.

Eren hushes Armin with a few nonsense mutterings as he turns to give Connie a short nod. He pulls back a little from the tight hold Armin has on him to find the boy’s face — needing to make certain that he’s not still reliving the nightmare and that he’s fully present. 

“You here with me, Minnie?” he asks softly, moving his hands to cup Armin’s face and coaxing him to meet his gaze. 

Armin does so eagerly — his eyes are wide and still glistening with tears, but they shine with pure, unbridled relief as he nods in response. “I’m — I’m really glad you’re here, Eren…” His wide, quivering smile says more than his words ever could. 

Jean’s heart breaks at the sound of the terror in Armin’s voice. From his perch on his cot, he intently watches Eren stroke Armin’s hair and whisper sweetly to the blond. For reasons that he can’t yet place, his stomach ties itself into knots.

“Are you gonna be able to sleep alone… or do you want me with you?” Eren whispers, quiet enough so that Connie can’t overhear. He brushes his thumb under Armin’s eye, swiping away a tear.

Armin’s bottom lip quivers again as he casts his gaze to the side. “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he blurts out. “Jean would be so confused if he woke up to an empty bed, wouldn’t he?”

Still, Armin clings to the hem of Eren’s shirt like he’ll fall to pieces if he doesn’t.

Eren smiles softly, reassuringly, at Armin and turns over to look back at Jean’s bunk — he’s rather sure he woke the other boy up with his haste to get down. 

And sure enough, he can see Jean sitting up and can approximate that he’s looking over at him and Armin. “I think he’s awake — lemme ask him if I can sleep over with you,” he says and gets up.

“Oh… alright.” Armin releases his hold on Eren, wringing his fingers together in his lap as he watches Eren walk back to Jean’s bunk.

Jean leans slightly over the edge of his cot as Eren gets closer. “Hey, what happened?” he whispers. “Is everything alright?”

Eren sighs and leans against the bedpost closest to Jean. “Armin had a nightmare… we both used to get them a lot and the only thing that helped was sleeping together.” He chews his lower lip anxiously, glancing back at Armin. “I can’t leave him alone tonight, Jean,” he whispers. 

Jean really hopes that Eren’s phrasing is a product of his stupidly small vocabulary and nothing more. But he knows that Eren and Armin aren’t strictly friends, so he can’t help but wonder what exactly Eren means by “sleeping together”...

But he’d also just watched Armin break down crying like someone had just died in front of him. Jean can’t imagine what kind of hellish memories Armin might be reliving right now. Eren, however, doesn’t have to imagine it. He and Armin had survived it together… Deep down, Jean knows that he has no right to get in the way of that.

“Alright, go on, then,” he softly replies as he gently tousles Eren’s hair. “Hope Armin feels better soon.”

Eren lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He turns a little to give Jean a grateful smile and then moves back to Armin and Connie’s cot. 

Connie is already sitting up and gathering his things. He doesn’t need to be told to move — the kid uses his brain occasionally. He does give Armin a soft nudge as he leaves though, whispering: “Get some sleep, ‘Min.”

Eren hadn’t thought to bring his own pillow or blanket, but he’s also not planning to have much room between himself and Armin and doesn’t really need it. He jumps to the vacated space behind the blond boy and slips under Armin’s blanket quickly, opening up his arms to beckon his friend in. “Get in here you…” he whispers with a soft grin. 

Armin snorts out a giggle as he settles back under the blanket and slides closer to Eren, nuzzling his face into Eren’s chest. “I’m here,” he chirps with a laugh while wrapping one of his arms around Eren’s waist.

Eren bends his face down into Armin’s golden hair and presses a soft kiss to the top of his head while pulling the slim boy tighter against him. “Perfect,” he says with a small, secret smile. “D’ya want to talk a little? Something stupid or whatever?” 

Armin swallows and sighs, trying his best to ignore the small shivers that race down his spine. “Yes, I’d like that. The sillier, the better.”

“Hmm,” Eren muses thoughtfully. He’s raking his mind for something suitably lighthearted to share with Armin, but as most of his brain is taken up by Jean, he can’t really recall anything that doesn’t revolve around his boyfriend. There’s Connie of course; he’s a good source of comedy at any given time. But Armin is usually present for his shenanigans, and it would be boring to retell a story that Armin was literally there for. 

Well… there’s always ‘plan B’… “Okay, to be honest, I can’t think of anything silly off the top of my head but y’wanna hear something kinda crazy that Jean did to me like two days ago?”

“Hm?” Armin squeaks, hiding himself against Eren’s shirt as his face starts to heat up. Knowing how creative Eren likes to get with partners that he’s really into, Armin isn’t sure that he can handle explicit details… but he is sure that that kind of shock and awe will feel better than the abject dread that had seized him earlier. “Um — alright, what… happened?”

Eren feels a little warm, and he knows it’s not completely due to Armin’s body pressing so flush against his own. He slowly drags a hand up and down the blond boy’s back, mostly a mindless thing. “Well — I think he was probably workin’ himself up to doin’ it because he seemed kinda prepared. He took me to the tailor shed — y’know the one that’s like never fuckin’ used? It’s by the supply shacks.”

Armin fiddles with the back of Eren’s shirt as he scans his mental map of the compound. “Yes, I think I know which one you’re talking about. I’ve only ever been there once, hehe.”

“Okay yeah, so you know it’s kinda a mess then. But Jean didn’t get bothered about it too much —” Eren grins recalling his boyfriend’s rather utilitarian solution. “He just threw a blanket on the floor and laid me down on it.” Eren’s unsure as to how much detail he should go into; he’s usually rather explicit with Armin, who would blush quite an alarming amount but never really told him off for it. 

Now that he thinks about it… maybe being a little extra explicit might help take Armin’s mind off his nightmare. “So he started undressing me — but he did it kinda slower than usual, like he was bein’ really careful or meaningful with it…” Eren trails the hand on Armin’s back up to the blond’s hair, softly scratching at his nape in a gentle but pleasurable massage. “I was already fuckin’ hard for him ‘cause he was touching me through my pants while stripping me. But then he starts pressing his face against my dick and fuck I thought he was gonna blow me…” Eren trails off, feeling very warm in the face as he takes a much needed breath.

“Yeah?” Armin silently curses his already breathy voice for betraying how flustered he is by just the recounting of the foreplay. He struggles to suppress contented sighs as Eren’s fingers dance over his neck and scalp. “What did — um — what did he actually do?” he asks in a whisper against Eren’s neck.

“Well… I might’ve gotten a bit distracted and sorta asked to just use his mouth for a little bit — he’s scary-good with his tongue and looks so fuckin’ hot with my cock in his mouth,” Eren huffs. The heat in his face feels like it’s moving south and he only hopes that he has enough self-control not to get too lost in his own recounting. “But um… he moved to lay down next to me, against my back — one minute he’s liftin’ my leg up and the next … fucking hell , Armin, he had his finger on my hole.” 

Armin’s stomach flips and his breath gets caught in his throat. He immediately ducks his head back down — his face burns so strongly that he’s sure it’s bright red. “That was — wow, that was sudden… I wasn’t expecting this story to get there that quickly.” His voice starts to taper off, so he clears his throat and swallows to wake it up. “Or at all, really. I thought that stuff made him uncomfortable…”

Eren shifts a little, slowly slipping one of his legs between Armin’s calves and hooking the boy a bit closer. “I-I thought so too,” he admits hoarsely. “He’s only touched me there once before but… when I asked him if he was okay with that — with touching me there I mean — he said he was.” Eren takes another steadying breath and mutters his next words into Armin’s hair, muffling the sound of his own arousal. “I asked him to keep doin’ it — to keep just circlin’ and touchin’ and Sina he did. It felt so fuckin’ good, ‘Min.” 

Armin gets too lost in the sweet sensation of Eren’s breath running through his hair, in the tantalizing beauty of the pictures that Eren paints with his words. A soft, high-pitched moan escapes his lips before he can think to choke it back, and the moment that he hears himself Armin wishes for the floor to open up beneath him and swallow him. His body freezes, and he tightly clutches the back of Eren’s shirt as he stammers dumbly for a moment, searching for words that have long left his mind.

Somewhere in the back of Eren’s head he thinks that he can’t really label this current circumstance as platonic. But the foreground of his mind is already occupied with his own recounting and he’s too fucking far gone to give a shit. He might be hard. He’s not sure. “H-he let me fuck my fist for a bit — but then somehow he got somethin’ wet on his finger and then he —” Eren’s hand curls a little in Armin’s hair, tugging a bit on the blond strands. “S’gonna sound fuckin’ dumb as hell but… he just put the tip in.”

Armin whimpers at the tug on his hair, and his heart starts to race out of panic as the effort of steadying his breathing becomes rather difficult. “You — you do mean his finger tip, right?” he barely manages to choke out.

Eren chokes at the meager suggestion of what Armin asked. “Uh — yeah. Just his fingertip,” he manages to rasp out. Carefully, as to not make it too obvious, Eren shifts his hips backwards a bit, and slips the hand not busy in Armin’s hair down to adjust himself so that his erection (and yes of course he’s fucking hard, why had he thought otherwise) is tucked out of the way. Armin catches a brief glimpse of the gesture, and his mouth runs dry as he tries and fails to push the image of Eren being hard out of his mind.

“He — I was obviously a bit freaked out — I didn’t know if he meant to do that y’know? But uh… when I asked…” Eren glances down at Armin, tugging on his hair a bit to cue the boy into meeting his gaze. With another soft whimper, Armin hesitantly tips his flushed face upward. “He pushed it in more…”

Armin’s eyes widen, and a small, shaky sigh slips out of his parted lips. “S-so he…” His blush deepens as his hips squirm helplessly against Eren’s. “He really meant it? And he planned to surprise you with it?”

Eren returns his hand to hold Armin at the waist, careful to keep it somewhat chaste (even though there’s a part of him that really wants to hold Armin just below his hips). “Yeah — I guess so. He didn’t even seem nervous — I…” Eren blushes really painfully now, but he has to admit the next bit even at the cost of his dignity — there’s no way else that Armin will understand just how fucking turned on he was otherwise. “I came so quick it was basically just pre.” 

“Huh?” Armin’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest as he briefly imagines it — Eren’s hard, swollen cock leaking out milky, translucent streams of precum — and he immediately averts his gaze. His breaths become stuttering and ragged as his shame starts to eat away at him from the inside. 

Then, he feels his pants start to grow uncomfortably tight, and he prays that Eren isn’t paying enough attention to feel the burgeoning erection. (Knowing Eren, though, it’s highly unlikely, so all that he can do is freeze in place as his whole body trembles.)

Armin’s voice, soft and even breathy up until now, had sounded much higher with that exclamation. And, though Eren hasn’t heard it often, he thinks the alarm in the boy’s voice is not only due to his shock — there’s something else in Armin’s voice that sounds distinctly aroused. 

But Eren’s careful analysis is made utterly moot by the very slight — almost imperceptible — poke of something against his upper thigh. Eren can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen or felt Armin’s erection on accident and the shockblast of it just being there makes him freeze as well. 

Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck… Jean would not be okay with this, Eren thinks. But he’s only a boy with a dick and a very poor sense of self-control. 

Swallowing thickly, he freaks out trying to figure out the proper steps to take. Should he address it? Ignore it? Continue his story? Has he been quiet for too long? Should he press his hips forward and… No, definitely not that. 

And meanwhile, Armin has no idea what to make of this long stretch of silence. He screws his eyes shut and curls into himself a bit as he uses his last few scraps of composure to think:

Did Eren notice? No, that’s not even a question — of course he noticed. So what’s he thinking, then? Is he too shocked by it to respond? Is he put off by it? Or is he trying to maintain his loyalty to Jean by refusing to acknowledge it?

Eren still has yet to speak or move, and Armin almost chokes on the thick haze of uncertainty that hangs in the air. “Hey… Eren?” he timidly whispers, his voice quivering. “What’s going on? Are… are you alright?”

The resounding blast that squeezes the life out of Eren’s heart at the sound of Armin’s somewhat-panicked yet concerned voice makes Eren want to… 

Fuck, he’s too cute . 

“I’m — I’m fine yeah — uh…” Eren slowly drags his hand from Armin’s hair down to his back and settles it at the small of his spine. “Um, Armin are you… ‘cause I’m also a little…” he whispers brokenly, his face burning. 

Armin stifles a bout of anxious laughter, relaxing into Eren’s gentle touch. He isn’t sure what to make of the sudden lightness that he feels in his chest now that Eren has acknowledged their mutual arousal. “I — I, um…” Armin squeezes Eren tighter as his whole body burns with embarrassment. “Yes,” he meekly admits, though it’s partially muffled by Eren’s shirt.

A trek by foot to Maria would be more fruitful than Eren’s attempt to not get aroused by Armin’s admission. “Okay…” he says, and it sounds a bit too breathy. “Okay, yeah that’s okay.” Eren’s mind is so clouded with the red-burning inferno of gate-kept desire that it takes every last bit of his strength not to give in. He struggles to remind himself that Jean would not be okay with this . But Armin is more than just a friend — more than a brother — more than any category Eren has at his disposal. 

And Jean knows that!

Surely… surely Jean would understand if he just…

Carefully, Eren traces a stuttering line up Armin’s spine and curls his fingers back into the blond’s hair, cupping the back of his head. “Armin…” he whispers, “tell me to stop.”

Armin is not confident at all that he can do so while Eren is whispering huskily to him like this, while Eren is caressing him tenderly like this. His willpower is fading fast — he starts softly panting as Eren’s hair-stroking sends pleasant chills all over his skin. It all feels heavenly… Armin wishes that he could stay right here in Eren’s arms forever…

But he knows that he can’t. Eren belongs to someone else now. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to rip him up if he were to ever catch wind of this incident. Armin shakes his head and takes a few long, deep breaths, willing himself to take Eren’s command seriously. Though it feels so right with Eren, it’s ethically wrong.

Armin doesn’t trust his voice to convey any semblance of conviction, so he answers Eren by gently grabbing the boy’s arm and sliding it off of his body. His hands tremble the whole time, and he doesn’t meet Eren’s eyes once.

It hurts worse than a kick to his gut when Eren feels his hands being removed. But he asked for it — hell he was begging Armin to make that decision for him. The least he can do is not make a big deal out of it — even if his heart feels like it is being actively torn apart. Even if it feels like each damn vein and vessel is snapping in his chest and leaving all the blood to pour out of him like a wounded animal. 

Maybe he’s being a bit dramatic — but it still hurts. “Thank you…” Eren whispers as steadily as his voice will allow. He takes a deep breath and rolls over on his back, the cool air hitting his body like a chastising smack. “Um… if you wanna take care of — of that. I’ll still be here when you’re done…” 

Armin makes a small squeaking noise as his breath hitches. “No, no, that really w-won’t be necessary,” he stammers in a hurry, covering his eyes with his forearm as he shakes his head. “I just…” Very slowly, Armin slides his other arm closer to Eren, palming around until he finds Eren’s hand and grips it tightly. “I’d rather stay here with you. I feel much better that way,” he admits with a shy smile.

Eren returns the grip on Armin’s hand, squeezing the delicate digits and feeling both extraordinarily thankful for the boy’s ability to be so damn sweet, and also incredibly frustrated by it — how the fuck is he supposed to get soft if Armin’s right there?

“Okay — that’s…” Eren chokes a bit and glares at the top bunk as though it might help his situation.   “I feel a bit too good with you right here…” he grumbles. 

Armin giggles as he moves his other arm away from his eyes. “Sorry, am I holding you up here?” he dares to joke.

“Sina, Armin!” Eren laughs, quiet enough to not wake up the other boys but still louder than he should have. “I’m doin’ my fuckin’ best okay?”

“I know you are.” Armin turns his head to look at Eren, wearing a smile bright enough to light up the whole pitch-dark room. “And I really appreciate it, Eren.”

Eren turns to look at Armin and the boy’s smile makes his heart melt and combust. 

Walls… I really love him.  

He keeps Armin’s gaze as he moves his free hand to brush away some blond strands on his cheek, pulling back just as quick to not tempt himself any more. “Do you think…” he frowns, suddenly worried. “Do you think I — is something wrong with me? That I don’t just have feelings for Jean? It’s not normal right?”

Armin’s face falls quickly, his eyes flooding with worry. “Please don’t say things like that about yourself,” he coos as he gives Eren’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t think anything’s wrong with you because you can have strong feelings for multiple people at a time. Doesn’t that sort of thing happen to people a lot?”

Eren feels his breathing even out with Armin’s reassurance — the hand squeeze and the words. “I just feel bad because — I’m worried I’ll take advantage of Jean’s understanding… he sorta gets our relationship, and with Mikasa too. But he’s also confused by it I think. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s because he’s jealous or if he’s scared I’m gonna do something behind his back.” Eren frowns deeper suddenly and hesitates only a moment before adding: “Like his dad…”

“Mm, I see…” Armin doesn’t know all of the details, of course, but he’s heard enough about Mr. Kirstein’s infidelity from Eren to put the pieces together in his own head. “It makes sense that Jean wouldn’t want to be met with that kind of betrayal again… I don’t know for sure, but maybe Jean interprets infidelity as a sign that your partner doesn’t really respect you, or love you, because that’s the message that his mother received from his father when it happened…” Armin gently strokes Eren’s palm with his thumb. “But that’s far from the reality of what you’re feeling, right? You said that your love for others doesn’t negate the love that you have for Jean, didn’t you?”

Eren nods his head vigorously. “Not at all! I love Jean a lot…” He hesitates only for a heartbeat before quietly admitting: “I’d probably die for him the same way I would for you or Mikasa.” 

Armin’s heart stirs at the admission, and he hurriedly swallows a small, burning lump that had started forming in his throat. “R-right,” he wills himself to continue, “and I’m sure you work your hardest every day to show him that, right?”

Eren snorts and turns to look at Armin with a raised brow. “I do my hardest, yeah…” he says meaningfully. 

Armin sighs as he rolls his eyes, but he still smiles brightly. “Alright, I walked into that one,” he chuckles. “My point is, Jean shouldn’t ever have to doubt that your feelings for him are strong and true. So at the end of the day, he shouldn’t need you to commit all of your emotional resources to him and him alone in order to prove that.” Armin rubs his forehead as his smile morphs into a grimace. “Walls, it sounds ridiculous when you spell out these relationship expectations so plainly…”

Comfortably, Eren turns onto his side, facing Armin with a grin, and playfully boops his friend’s nose. “Yeah but someone has to walk me through the steps so I don’t fuck up, right?” he teases. 

Armin’s nose crinkles slightly as he giggles and grins widely at Eren. “I have no idea why you’re trusting me with that task when I’ve never been in a relationship… but I’m giving it my best shot.”

“Well… your ‘best shot’ is what got me and Jean together in the first place, Armin,” Eren says with a grin. “You’re the one who told me how to get him to open up about his past and stuff… and that’s kinda what helped push him into my net.” Eren yawns suddenly, catching himself unaware. He scoots a little closer to Armin and hesitantly places a hand on the other boy’s waist. “You okay to cuddle?” he asks softly.

Armin feels a few sparks flit about where Eren touches him, which startles him a bit, but they pale in comparison to the flood of warm and fuzzy feelings that flow through the rest of his body. He nods emphatically before scooching closer to Eren, wrapping his blanket tighter around the both of them as he starts yawning himself.

Armin pulls Eren in for another hug, tucking his face into the crook of Eren’s neck. “Thanks so much for staying with me tonight,” he whispers as he smiles against the boy’s skin.

“Armin…” Eren croons, smiling into the boy’s hair. “I’d literally destroy the world for you… staying here is the least I could do.” He presses a soft kiss to the crown of the boy’s head and snuggles in a bit closer — impossible though that is. “Goodnight, Minnie.” 

Armin is quite grateful that his dopey smile is hidden in Eren’s collarbone. To return the favor, he steels his nerves and gingerly presses a kiss to the exposed skin before shutting his eyes. “Goodnight, Eren. See you tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

A few days later, Exam Week begins, shrouding the Training Corps in a noxious fog of panic and dread. Regular lectures have been replaced by large, unstructured study halls, where the cadets are expected and encouraged to help each other review important material while the instructors drown in grading late work.

The cadets mostly stick to their established friend groups, and they carve out their own corners of the classroom bungalows to hunker down and study. Most steer clear of the classroom at the east end of the group of huts. It’s the most popular spot due to the excellent lighting, but that also makes it the noisiest thanks to the chattering chaos of whatever study group gets there first.

Connie and Sasha are the loudest of the bunch in this particular hut — they’re taking turns quizzing each other for the upcoming history exam, reading questions from a copy of a study guide that Armin had made. It’s been a whole hour, and neither of them has gotten a single question right. 

“Agh, consarn it!” After giving her umpteenth incorrect answer, Sasha slumps over her desk, hands clawing at her hair like she’s about to tear it out. “I can’t keep any o’ these darn names and dates straight in mah head… there’re too many!”

Connie drops the quiz-sheet and gives Sasha a sympathetic pat on her shoulder. “I’m beginning to think that we need to… cut our losses,” he says gravely. “I think we should narrow down the list again. Just ten names this time, yeah?”

Sasha sniffles as she slowly nods. “Yeah… ten should work. I can do ten… I hope…”

“Okay…” Connie furrows his brow and rereads the list before turning back to Sasha. “Who was the Commander that formed the fourteenth defensive strategy for the Wall Garrison in the year 776?”

Sasha shuts her eyes and grits her teeth as she racks her brain for a name, any name at all. “Uhh… shoot, uh… was that Commander Shadis?”

Connie drops the paper and grabs both of Sasha’s shoulders, shaking her urgently, his eyes wide with panic. “Dammit Sasha you need to get this! If you can’t remember his name there’s no hope for me.” He squeezes her even tighter as he leans in. “I will get you three whole jerky sticks if you can remember his name, Sasha. Three. ” 

“You mean that?” All of the tension melts out of Sasha’s shoulders at once, and she nearly starts drooling as she looks at Connie with wide, expectant eyes.

Connie grins and blushes a little. “Swear it. Now what’s his name? It rhymes with ‘mud’, remember?”

After pausing to think for a moment, Sasha gasps and springs upright. “Yes, yes I do! It’s Commander Rudd, isn’t it? Please tell me it is.”

Connie has to pick up the study guide from the table to check (because he doesn’t trust his own memory at this point). “Ha! Yes! You got one!” he hoots and launches off his chair into Sasha to give her a hug. She laughs gleefully as she hugs him back, already daydreaming about how heavenly those jerky sticks will taste.

Their ruckus does not go wholly ignored by the other study groups — Reiner in specific is getting constantly distracted by their hollering. For the third time, he glances away from the mock-exam Bertholdt had made for him to watch whatever hijinks the two dunderheads are getting into again. Annie — having long finished her mock-exam — sighs and rolls her eyes before nudging Bertholdt, dragging the taller boy’s attention to his distractible boyfriend. 

Bertholdt sighs and reaches across the table to tug at Reiner’s sleeve. “Hey, you need to focus,” he says with a stern yet loving tone. “You don’t have time to mind their antics.”

Reiner matches Bertholdt’s sigh and rubs his forehead as he jots down another answer for the quiz. “This isn’t as bad as some of the others we’ve taken though…” he hums softly. Then he gives his friends a secretive wink. “At least it’s just a hundred years’ worth of history, yeah?”

Annie inconspicuously kicks him hard under the table. 

Bertholdt takes a deep breath before giving Reiner’s forearm a firm squeeze. “Keep your eyes on your paper and stay quiet,” he hisses. “You don’t want to be suspected of cheating, do you?”

Reiner looks suitably chastised, judging by the blush on his cheeks, and he dutifully returns his focus to his paper… quietly.  

Meanwhile, towards one of the far corners of the classroom, Eren, Armin, Mikasa and Jean all sit down around one of the long tables, passing notes around. Eren is not doing too hot as history was never his strongest subject — too many classes relying on Armin’s notes and far too little focus on the boring names of failed operations. 

“Uh… Armin? Can I see your notes on the Scout formations for the year 785? I think I fucked up somewhere…” Eren mumbles, scratching his head with some visible agitation. 

“785? Sure.” Armin has to flip a good few pages back in his notebook before turning it around and sliding it over to Eren. He then quickly ducks his head back down to continue sketching out a Wall Garrison formation in a second notebook.

“Huh? Eren I would have thought you had all the Scout formations memorized by now,” Thomas snickers from the table over where he, Mina, Floch and Marco are also similarly passing their notes around. “Aren’t you, like, obsessed with them?”

Eren squints at Armin’s notebook, glancing back and forth between his untidy scrawl and Armin’s neat and tidy script. He doesn’t even bother looking up at Thomas when he answers bitterly: “Yeah with their current status. I don’t give a shit about what they did sixty fuckin’ years before Maria…” he mutters. 

Mina opens her mouth to say something, but she’s suddenly struck dumb by the reminder of the tragedy. Floch frowns at the frustration that’s etched all over Eren’s face; he doesn’t look at it for long, instead staring at his notes without really reading them.

Jean gently rubs Eren’s shoulder and gives him a soft smile. “At least it isn’t much, right? Only so many formations you can come up with over a hundred years; you’ll get ‘em down soon enough.”

Eren’s responding sigh sounds more like a pained groan; his eyes widen and continue to dart back and forth between his notebook and Armin’s. 

From the other table, Marco leans back to reach out and poke Jean on his shoulder. “Uh, hey Jean? Can I see your notes for the Capital Riots? I think that’s one of the classes I missed when I was sick…” he asks sweetly. 

“Oh yeah, sure.” Jean just had those notes open, so he quickly passes them to Marco with a smile. “It was pretty straightforward — you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

Next to Jean, Eren’s leg starts a fast tempo, bouncing up and down increasingly quickly as he starts frantically flipping pages in his notebook. 

“Heh, thank you,” Marco says, taking the booklet from Jean and turning back to his table. “Ah yeah, this is much better than whatever notes Connie gave me.” 

Jean snickers shamelessly into his hand. “You asked Connie for notes before me?”

Thomas snorts, the sound partially muffled as his face is buried in the crook of his arm on the table. He’d given up seriously studying about seven minutes ago and is simply rolling his charcoal pen up and down on the woodgrain. 

Marco blushes darkly. “Uh, I — he was visiting me in the med-bay that day, so I just thought I’d take whatever I could get…” He winces a bit and sorts through the looseleaf papers in front of him before taking one page and handing it to Jean. “I couldn’t actually read it…” 

“All the more reason why you should’ve said something sooner.” Jean smiles charmingly at Marco as he takes the page, but his expression quickly falters once he starts reading the notes. “Why the fuck are there more dicks on the page than words?” he sputters, scrunching his nose in disgust.

Marco laughs, mostly amused but with a hint of embarrassment. “I have no idea — I was pretty sure Connie was straight…” He shrugs, glancing at Eren briefly with an unreadable expression. “But eh, I’ve been wrong before.”

Before Jean can properly freak out about the vagueness of that statement, Floch starts snorting and chuckling into his fist. “Whose dick do you think he kept drawing, then? Could’ve been anyone…”

Thomas sits up suddenly, eyes shining with renewed interest  now that the subject of conversation isn’t academic. “Wait, lemme see that paper, Jean,” he says, reaching out for the sheet eagerly. “I’m betting my left nut that’s Eren’s dick.” 

Jean raises an eyebrow at Thomas, his expression caught between incredulity and disappointment. “It better not be,” he snaps as he shoves the paper underneath his stack of books.

“Oh, it totally is!” Floch guffaws, craning his neck to glance at the corner of the page that sticks out from under Jean’s books. Meanwhile, Mina’s whole face turns red and she tries unsuccessfully to hide her own interest behind her notebook.

“No it ain’t!” Jean shouts back. “Connie hasn’t even seen it! Fuckin’ idiots…” He turns away from the table of clowns and sighs as he strokes Eren’s back. “How’s it goin’ over here?”

Eren hasn’t even looked up once from his frantic studying — not even to make a quip or a jibe back at the other boys. He also doesn’t react to Jean’s question, only shaking his head as he chews his lower lip worriedly. 

His leg-shaking has slowed some though, but that’s mostly due to Mikasa pressing her ankle softly against his under the table. She’s been quietly studying alongside Armin, but Eren’s panic has her quickly switching gears. She leans forward a bit to peer at the page that Eren’s frantically scouring and her lips twist slightly in a frown. 

“You should ask Jean to help you with this part, Eren; he knows the MP chain of command pretty well… right, Jean?” she asks, turning to the taller boy with a soft look in her silver eyes — it’s almost affectionate. 

And it makes Jean’s heart flutter warmly for a moment — he gives her an easy smile and a confident nod. “I know it like the back of my hand. You can totally leave it to me.” He turns back to Eren and peers over the boy’s shoulder to look at his truly horrendous notes. “So what are you stuck on?”

The brunet boy huffs with considerable frustration and shoves himself back from the table, pushing his notebook somewhat aggressively away from him. “It’s fucking stupid to have a chain of command in the MPs; they’re all doin’ the same damn useless shit…” he mutters darkly — sending a poisonous glare at the notes in front of him. “Commanders, captains, squad leaders — the hell they need squad leaders for anyway?”

Jean furrows his brows at Eren’s sudden display of aggression. “For small-scale patrols,” he calmly responds. “Someone has to be in charge to make tough calls when things get violent.”

Eren tsks with disdain even as Marco leans back from his chair to grin at Jean. “Yeah! Just like they did for the Riots — it would have cost far too many lives if the MPs didn’t have an organized approach to carefully break up the crowds.”

This, instead of calming Eren, only seems to piss him off further. “There wouldn’t be a damn need for crowd control if we weren’t fuckin’ stuck behind these stupid Walls like cattle!” he spits.

“Fair point…” Jean folds his arms over his chest and looks off to the side. “But that’s where we’re at for the time being, so someone has to step up and maintain order to keep people safe within the Walls.” He locks eyes with Marco, giving him a meaningful look.

Marco grins at him, his eyes practically sparkling. “Absolutely, even if our situation is not ideal, we have to make sure that everyone feels as safe as possible with what resources we do have — and ensure a fair chance at comfort for everyone.” 

Eren looks, if possible, more disgusted. He turns to Jean with a raised brow. “You say that like it’s gonna be you doin’ that job,” he snorts. 

Jean huffs out a brief, disbelieving laugh. “Because it will be.”

The sudden silence at the table is more ominous than it should be. Even Thomas stops spinning his pencil to peer at the boys anxiously. 

Eren’s smile falters a bit and he blinks twice. “Huh? What — what do you mean?” he says with mild disbelief coloured by a tinge of sardonic humor. “You’re joining the Survey Corps…” 

“Hold up — when did I agree to that?” Just the thought of riding off into titan country is enough to make Jean’s voice tremble slightly as he asks the question. Across the table, Armin winces at Jean’s response and curls into himself, bracing for the worst out of Eren. Even Mikasa looks a little concerned, glancing at the boy warily. 

Eren shakes his head and laughs. “Uh — obviously when you agreed to be my boyfriend?” he says incredulously. “The hell do you have to do with the MPs?” 

Surprisingly, it’s Marco who jumps in, turning to grin at Jean. “Actually, Jean and I had planned to become special unit Officers together for a while now — I was planning to work with recruiting and Jean was going to aim for the Law Enforcement Squad Leader position, right?”

“Exactly.” Jean gives Marco a grateful smile before turning back to Eren and running a hand down the boy’s arm. “And surely you know that I want you to join us, right? You have the rank for it. And it’ll keep us both alive and happy together… what’s not to like about that?”

Eren’s jaw practically drops and his normally lively green eyes turn the shade of cut jade — sharp and piercing. “What’s not to like? ” he repeats blandly before standing up. “You want me to sit in the fucking capital… like a damn gold-guzzling pig while humanity waits like sheep for the slaughter?” His voice gets louder and the anger in his words is palpable in the room. “You want me to sit on my ass and do nothing? The enemies are outside the Walls, Jean!” Eren yells, pointing out the window. “And I swore I’d kill them!” 

Jean’s blood starts to rush through his veins. He’s suddenly aware that it’s been a while since Eren had leveled such intense anger toward him. But he hasn’t forgotten how this dance goes, so he steels his nerves and humors the boy. “We have plenty of enemies inside the Walls, too, Eren,” he retorts. “Dealing with them is a far cry from doing nothing. That’s how the Military Police save lives.”

“Save lives?” Eren’s eyes flash as he slams both his hands down on the table forcefully. “What is the fucking point of saving lives if it takes one titan , Jean? One fucking titan … and then Rose falls just like Shiganshina — just like Maria?” Eren’s voice breaks a little and he struggles to hide it. “Tch — don’t fucking lie to yourself… saving lives? If you actually want to save humanity you’d join the force that’s doing something,” he spits. “The Survey Corps doesn’t fucking sit in the Capital and play nice with the nobles, Jean. They go out there and fucking fight .”

“What’s wrong with doing both, Eren?” Marco interrupts again, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “I have nothing against the Survey Corps… but Jean is right, they have the highest mortality rate of any military division. There’s no need to throw away your life if you actually have a desire to live it.” He pauses and glances at Jean for a moment, something soft passing through his eyes, before he turns back to Eren. “Jean has always had a dream of joining the MPs,” he says slowly, then his voice changes slightly — it’s almost challenging. “Surely if you love him you wouldn’t force him to join you?”

Eren’s mouth snaps shut with a pop but his eyes don’t lose an ounce of their emerald flame. He turns to look at Jean though, aiming his next words at the boy meaningfully. “That was his dream, sure… before he got with me — people change, Marco.”

“Eren, I don’t think you’re hearing us.” Jean keeps a level expression, but his fists are balled tightly at his sides. “Now that I have gotten with you, what I want is for us to be together for longer than one fucking year.” His gaze falls solemnly to the floor. “The last thing I want is to lose you on some suicide mission that doesn’t even make it halfway to Wall Maria.”

Indignation fills Eren’s mind with such potency that he is barely conscious of grabbing Jean’s collar until he’s doing it. “You really think so fucking low of me, Jean?” he spits. “You really think I’d let anything fucking happen to you out there?” 

From the other side of the table Mikasa stands up. “Eren… calm down.” Her quiet plea goes unnoticed as Eren grows only more infuriated.

“The issue here isn’t us dyin’, Jean,” Eren hisses, pulling the taller boy right up to his face — close enough to be uncomfortable. “The issue is that you’ve got no fucking balls.” 

Jean’s nostrils flare as his hands clamp down on Eren’s wrists, but he doesn’t push the boy away. “No, think about this, Eren. If the Survey Corps is so great then how come not a damn soul makes it outta there alive? They’re just throwing bodies at titans and hoping for the best — you’re fine with being made into titan food like that?”

Eren grits his teeth and his words come out with enough disdain to sound almost mocking. “The Survey Corps isn’t about you or me Jean. There’s shit that’s bigger than us out there — shit that’s more important than any one fucking soldier…” He shoves Jean back from his face and lets go of his shirt. “Every damn soldier out there means one less fucking titan that can get in here — if I’m gonna die… it’s gonna be while taking those fuckers out. With my bare hands if I have to!” 

“Eren…” Jean briefly loses his words, his head spinning and his heart stirring strongly at Eren’s words. His boyfriend sounds so damn resolved that he almost feels like he can’t say anything to rebuff him. Almost.

Jean chuckles weakly as he pushes his fingers through his hair. “You really are a suicidal maniac, huh…”

“Wh-what?” Eren is momentarily stupefied by Jean’s lack of reaction (and somewhat distracted by his boyfriend’s casual hotness). He struggles to understand how everything he just said could be dismissed as ‘suicidal maniac’ behaviour. And it makes him snap. “What the fuck? Are you deaf, Jean? Did you not fuckin’ hear me?” 

This time when Eren lunges at him he has a bit too much force and takes both himself and Jean down to the floor, startling everyone. “Hey! Watch it!” Thomas yelps, jumping backwards into Mina while Armin cries out in alarm. 

Floch watches the two boys crash to the stone floor with amusement and some helpless arousal. Marco however, immediately lunges forward, intending to push Eren off of Jean — but it’s Mikasa who’s there in a blink, pulling Eren off of the other boy and restraining the green-eyed rage-demon with a tight hold on his shoulders. 

“Eren, enough,” she says firmly.

Jean pushes himself partially off the floor, leaning back on his arms, and he locks eyes with Eren. He finds a wild, burning fury in those sharp green irises, and he can’t bring himself to look away from it. His cheeks flush as inappropriate butterflies fill his stomach and his heart starts to race even faster. He struggles to fully catch his breath.

“Eren, please calm down,” Armin chimes in softly as he shuffles into Eren’s line of sight. “When have you and Jean ever settled anything by coming to blows?”

Uncharacteristically rough, Eren shrugs off Mikasa’s hold and steps away from his two friends, a dark cloud over his head as something almost slimy passes through his eyes. “We’ve settled plenty of shit that way, Armin. And honestly…” He turns back to glare daggers at Jean. “I think that’s the only way this shit’s gonna get settled. Get up horse-boy — you wanna preach to me about suckin’ MP dick? We’re gonna chat about it like men then — outside.”

For reasons that Jean can’t pinpoint, Eren’s crude speech sends pleasurable shivers over his spine. He really hopes it isn’t noticeable how affected he is. In an attempt to hide it, Jean pushes himself to his feet as smoothly as he can, slips his finger just under Eren’s shirt to fish out that damn key that the boy never takes off, twists it around his finger and leads the boy right out the room. “Alright, then, I’m game. Let’s go.”

Mikasa and Armin look on with a mix of concern and confusion as Jean swiftly drags Eren out of the classroom by the makeshift leash. 

No sooner are they out of sight of their classmates and exiting the wooden door of the bungalow than does Eren yank his key out of Jean’s grasp and back away from the boy. “I wasn’t fucking playing, Jean…” he spits, ire in his eyes as he gives Jean a look of thinly-disguised disgust. “This isn’t a fucking game to me! Why the fuck do you still want to go to the MPs, huh?”

“Because this isn’t a game to me, either!” Jean shouts back, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “I wanna live, alright? And I want my work to have impact! I know that I can do that with the MPs…”

With brutish force, Eren grabs Jean by his shirtfront and slams him against the wall of the bungalow, practically steaming with fury and frustration. “You’d have that with the Survey Corps, Jean! You’d have a hell of a lot more fucking impact — the shit you’d do would matter !” His fists shake in their grasp on Jean’s shirt as he presses his fists hard into the other boy’s chest to keep him pinned. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Jean. I know this isn’t about impact for you — you think you can fuckin’ hide it?”

Jean thinks somewhere in the back of his mind that he should be pushing back against Eren’s hold, but he can’t will his muscles to move. He grits his teeth and swallows thickly as his face rapidly heats up. “Wh-what the hell are you even gettin’ at?”

Eren’s face turns red — whether it’s from anger or some other emotion is unclear. “Oh that’s how you wanna play this?” he laughs darkly. “You gonna make me say it? Gonna make me spell it out? Don’t try to be coy with me, Jean. I know he’s why you wanna join the damn MPs.”

Jean’s eyes widen when he thinks back to their argument in the classroom; his lips twitch as he hesitantly laughs, never quite smiling. “Yeah, and so does fuckin’ everyone here. Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Marco now — he’s my best friend!”

For a moment, Eren’s face of rage is replaced by confusion. His grip on Jean’s shirt slackens by the slightest amount before Eren is shoving Jean back against the wall even harder . 

“For fuck’s sake, Jean!” he spits. “I’m not talking about Marco! I know you don’t wanna fuck him — that shit is obvious for anyone with eyes!” Eren pulls back a bit, his cheeks burning as he gives Jean a rather unreadable look between indignant and embarrassed. “I’m talking about your damn crush on Matis!” 

“Huh?” Jean’s stomach lurches from pure shock; his jaw hangs open as he stares at Eren with wild, bewildered eyes. “You seriously think I wanna fuck my brother? What the hell have you been drinking, Eren?”

Eren’s look of confusion and embarrassment become a little more apparent as his hands shift uneasily in their grip on Jean’s shirt. “It’s kinda fuckin’ obvious… the way you talked about him, the way you looked at him; like he was a fuckin’ god to you or something…” Eren says with a twist of his lips. He glances away from Jean’s face, though, unable to watch his boyfriend’s reaction to his words. “You were damn-well ready to end everything with me because of him…”

The memory of that weekend rips a gash into Jean’s heart. He lowers his gaze to the floor, squeezing his hands into fists in a vain attempt to stop them from trembling. “Yeah, there was a lot of shit happenin’ in my head at the time. But by the Walls, Eren… a crush on Matis was not one of them.” He still can’t believe that he has to state this out loud, so he blinks rapidly a few times as he shakes his head. “I do look up to him a lot, but that doesn’t mean I wanna suck his dick. He’s family. That’s not how that works.”

Eren drops his fists but that confused expression stays on his face. He hadn’t been certain that his assumption was correct but he had been very prepared to accept its truth. He knew Jean had some considerable issues regarding his family structure, and Eren knew enough about sex to make an educated guess at how those feelings could get warped.

He had been honestly ready to talk to Jean about it — even prepared to give him the whole ‘I love you no matter what’ speech. He’s so utterly stupefied by his misconception that it’s all he can do to string together something coherent in response. “Uh — so…” He swallows and furrows his brows, feeling his face get unpleasantly warm. “So you — it’s just fuckin’ hero-worship?”

 “I don’t —” Jean flinches at Eren’s word choice, his cheeks turning red as poppies. “Sure, fine, that’s all it is. Point is, he’s not your competition, so you can quit being so jealous.”

“Oh fuck off…” Eren says, quickly shoving Jean against the wall again as his face turns even more red. “I wasn’t fuckin’ jealous. I don’t get jealous.” 

“Says the guy who wanted to kick my ass just now for being too in love with my brother!” Jean chuckles anxiously as he grabs Eren’s forearms. “But I cleared all that shit up for you, so you can chill out now, yeah?”

“Tch —” Eren lets go of Jean’s shirt for good this time and backs away, staring at the ground and half-wishing it would fucking swallow him. Why does he always jump to damn conclusions? “No. I’m still fuckin’ pissed at you,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. 

Jean shuts his eyes and rubs his forehead as he lets out a long sigh. “And you’ll stay pissed at me unless I decide to follow you to the Survey Corps?” Eren refuses to dignify that with an answer, but his pointed glance from under his bangs rather communicates his feelings on the matter. 

The intensity of Eren’s glare makes Jean’s throat run dry; he can no longer ignore the arousal that rushes through his veins at the sight of the boy’s titillating anger. If Eren won’t listen to reason, then Jean figures he can sway him with a different type of persuasion…

“Nah, fuck that —” Without missing a beat, Jean lunges forward and tightly grips Eren’s arm before dragging him away from the bungalow. 

“Hey — oi, what the fuck, Jean?” Eren yelps, nearly losing his balance from Jean’s sudden and unprecedented speed. They round the classroom and Eren can barely keep up with the taller boy, struggling so much to match pace that he doesn’t even realize where they are going. 

Jean doesn’t respond to Eren until they’re behind a neighboring hut, in the shade and off the main path. He then grabs Eren’s necklace again, finding it had made a rather useful control for the boy, and uses it to pin Eren to the wall of the bungalow, yanking it high enough to slightly choke the boy under his jaw. “I’m teachin’ you a lesson,” he growls, reaching down to vulgarly grope Eren’s crotch. “You’ll shut up and take it, you brat.”

The fucking shock of Jean’s sexual advance catches Eren so off-guard that his instinctive, choked whimper escapes his lips without his permission. Then he wrangles himself under control because no , Jean does not get to win their argument like this — he does not get to play fucking dirty! Eren grabs the hand at his crotch and rips it off him, snarling. “Like hell you are! Get off, you fuckin’ pervert!” 

Jean flinches at Eren’s rebuff, but he knows that he heard Eren whimpering at his touch. He also knows that he’d be knocked to the ground by now if his advances were really a problem. Still, he can never be too sure…

He holds Eren’s gaze as he shoves his leg in between Eren’s, pressing his thigh into Eren’s crotch — it makes the boy gasp. He is not at all flaccid, and his cock twitches in the confines of his trousers. Emboldened by the physical confirmation of his boyfriend’s arousal, he twists his hold on the key, shortening the length of the cords and tightening the pressure on Eren’s neck. With his other hand he grabs Eren’s hips and then whispers in a low, gruff tone: “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m gonna keep you right here…”

Eren forces his legs to shut as tightly as they can — the temptation to grind down on Jean’s leg is very present in his mind — but his residual anger makes him very determined not to give in. The slight sting of his necklace cord makes his head spin as he spies Jean’s hand holding it against the wall. His stomach twists with arousal and he struggles to slam both his fists into Jean’s chest, attempting to shove the boy back. “No. You. Are. Not! ” 

Jean clenches his jaw, digging his heels into the ground to keep himself steady. “That’s cute,” he quips as he reaches for Eren’s belt buckle, “but there’s no way you’re gettin’ rid of me that easy.” In one fluid motion, he undoes the clasp, and then he reaches around Eren’s waist to roughly grope his ass. “Not that you really want to do that, anyway.”

Eren’s breath hitches tellingly and his face floods with heat. He’s absolutely hard right now — hard like fucking steel — burning hot, and leaking already. There’s no chance at all that Jean can’t fucking feel that. He grits his teeth against another whimper and it comes out like a pained gasp. He’s embarrassed, and that is not a common emotion for him to feel. Planting his hands flat on Jean’s shoulders and pressing back with far too little force, he spits out: “The hell got you so damn worked up?”

Jean’s gaze darkens with raw lust as he watches Eren struggle and fail to resist his arousal. His lips curl into a charmingly wicked smirk before he moves his thigh away, and his hand dives into Eren’s pants to palm at his shaft over his underwear. “You had no business lookin’ as hot as you did when you lost your cool back there,” Jean hums with a sinister lilt. “So I’m gonna have to punish you for that.”

“Huh?” Eren barely manages to express his surprise at Jean’s admission before the sizzling pleasure of pressure on his cock blanks his mind. His eyes shut against it and he wishes he had a little more strength to resist because dammit, Jean does not get to win this fucking easily! 

“You — hah — you got off on me gettin’ pissed at you?” Eren spits out, managing to pry open one eye to glare at his boyfriend incredulously. “Fuck! Hnng… guess your trauma really fucked you up worse than I thought…” 

Jean cuts Eren’s words off by jerking the key-leash forward and pulling Eren into a fierce and brutal kiss as he slides his hand off of Eren’s cock. He takes Eren’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugs on it sharply before running his tongue over the abused flesh. Smoothly, he hooks a finger under the waistband of Eren’s underwear and teasingly follows it around the boy’s hip. “You really never know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” Jean whispers against the boy’s lips.

Eren can’t answer — his breaths feel oddly like they are not dragging in enough air for his head to stay on straight. One of Jean’s hands is keeping him on a literal leash and the other is driving him insane with its teasing, titillating gestures — he can’t even parse Jean’s motivations. He’s utterly done pretending he doesn’t want this, but he doesn’t even know what this is. 

The leg that’s now back between his own suggests that Jean wants him to grind down — but the sharp tug of the key and the messy, almost brutal kiss pulls his attention upwards. And then there’s a hand on his hip tracing below his underwear and he has no fucking clue what Jean wants him to do. 

“F-fuck off — I’m — shit…” Eren gasps out a soft moan and his hands move to guide Jean back down for a kiss, feeling at last the pressure slacken around his neck when Jean drops the key in favor of briefly digging his hand into Eren’s hair. He nips and licks at Jean’s lips with unveiled frustration before breaking away panting. “The hell you tryin’ to do here, Jean?”

“You’re askin’ too many damn questions…” Jean sinks his teeth into Eren’s neck, his finger tracing the waistband of Eren’s underwear all the way to his backside. “Fine, then,” he huffs mischievously against Eren’s flesh, “I’ll give you a hint.” Jean shoves his hand under the fabric and squeezes Eren’s asscheek before sliding in further and swiping his fingertip over Eren’s asshole.

“Hah!” Eren’s shock comes out fairly high-pitched and the hands in Jean’s hair curl into claws as he instinctively arches his back. “W-what? Here? ” he squeaks. 

“Yes, here,” Jean half-hums, half-hisses. The sound of Eren’s lust-laden shock goes straight to Jean’s cock — it twitches eagerly in his trousers, straining against the fabric. He lets out a rather lewd sigh as his pointer finger circles the rim of Eren’s opening with urgency. “I did make it clear that this is a punishment, didn’t I?”

Eren’s not all-too-sure that the current symphony of sensations really qualifies as a punishment but doesn’t want to challenge it for fear that Jean might stop — that would be a real punishment that Eren does not want to invite. Instead, he keens softly into Jean’s shirt, pressing his face against the taller boy’s chest to hide his red-flushed cheeks. “B-but we don’t — uhh — we don’t have anything… nhhg… wet.” 

Jean chuckles and tousles Eren’s hair with his free hand, his mischievous smirk widening. “Sure we do,” he answers Eren with ease. It isn’t a perfect substitute by any means, but by all three Walls, Jean is too damn fired up to let that stop him. He pulls his hand out of Eren’s pants and holds his pointer and middle finger under his mouth before splattering them with a thick wad of spit. Then he shoves his hand right back down and aggressively presses the digits into Eren’s asshole.

“Jean!” The near-scream Eren lets out is a perfect blend of aroused, shocked, and mortified, but it doesn’t do anything to disguise the way the boy’s hips jump up to rut backwards into the pressure. 

Jean doesn’t simply trace around the rim this time; he dives in tips first and Eren is scrambling to get a grip before he has another embarrassingly quick orgasm. “Ohfuckohfuckohfuck…” he whines sharply. 

The needy, breathless tone of Eren’s voice is killing Jean — he moans gruffly through gritted teeth as he pushes his fingers deeper into the boy, desperate to draw out more of those beautifully lewd sounds. But he’s suddenly stopped once his fingers are about halfway inside of Eren. The walls of the boy’s rectum squeeze too tightly around the digits for Jean to move them any further.

Jean’s heart stops for a moment — he wonders if he’d moved too fast, if he’d maybe startled or hurt Eren. At any rate, he needs to get his boyfriend to relax. So he runs his other hand tenderly through Eren’s hair and whispers into his ear: “Fuck, you’re takin’ me so well, princess. Can you open up a little more for me?”

No sooner does the pet-name slip out of Jean’s lips than does Eren melt . Every last bit of tension and stiffness in his body (save for his poor hard cock) disappears in an instant and he whimpers into Jean’s chest helplessly. 

It’s so fucking quick that Jean doesn’t have a chance to push his fingers in — Eren’s body is already sucking them deeper. 

Jean gasps sharply when his fingers plunge deep into the heat of Eren’s opening. Shudders race down his spine as the muscles pulsate around his fingers, drawing a litany of breathless groans from his lungs. The hand in Eren’s hair jumps down to the boy’s back; Jean grabs him tightly and pulls his boyfriend’s body closer to his own, sighing and panting into Eren’s hair as he thrusts his fingers deeper…

And Eren simply can’t breathe . The pleasure alone is enough to render him speechless — but the fact that this is Jean? His boyfriend who only recently started experimenting with fingering? 

And then Jean draws him closer, pulling him in by the small of his back, suffocating the space that remained between them…

“Jean…” Eren moans tightly, “Oh fuck… harder !” 

Jean’s whole body burns with molten lust, his cock twitching and pulsing harder in his trousers at the sound of Eren’s command. Without even realizing it, he’s pushed his fingers into Eren almost up to his knuckles. With a sharp breath, Jean pulls his fingers part of the way out of Eren before quickly thrusting them back in, repeating the motion at a damn near brutal pace.

Eren makes a sound that Jean had never heard before — something high and gasping and loud . Eren is clawing at Jean’s back, pressing his face into Jean’s chest to try and muffle his screams but it does fucking nothing . Each thrust of Jean’s fingers forces another screaming moan out of the boy until he’s drooling over Jean’s uniform jacket and has tears in his eyes from the pleasure. He’s trying to carve out words into the sounds he’s making but they cut off on every consonant and vowel. “J-ah- hah -uhh-nngh!” 

“Oh, fuck, Eren!” Jean shouts between bouts of broken panting and moaning. His hips cant forward helplessly, pressing his throbbing hard-on flush against Eren’s stomach as he speeds up the pace of his fingering. “Ah! — Sina, you sound fuckin’ amazing right now. P-please lemme hear more… nnh, hah!”

“G-gah —” Eren’s eyes roll back a little as Jean’s fingers hit him right on his prostate and he’s utterly lost. His hips buck weakly and he cums in his underwear without so much as a warning. “Fu-ck-k!” His voice cracks and he sobs, continuing to thrust back into Jean’s fingers despite the edge of oversensitivity.

He’s pushing past that first hill, chasing a second high not even ten seconds after falling off his first orgasm. “P-please —” He rakes his fingers down Jean’s spine. “Please d-don’t stop…”

“Not a chance — fuck !” Eren squeezes tightly around Jean’s fingers when he cums, and the pressure makes Jean dizzy with arousal. It’s all that he can do to grip Eren’s side harder, crush their bodies together, and keep up the relentless pace of his finger-fucking. He grits his teeth as the first pinpricks of numbness dance over his wrist. The strength of that sensation pales in comparison to the electric heat that stirs in his core, leaving him painfully hard…

“Mmh — you gonna cum for me again, beautiful? Ahn — shit — gonna get even wetter for me?”

“Uhhhnnn…” Eren cums again right on command, and it soaks right through his underwear, dripping through the fabric and down to the ground visibly — if there were any space between him and Jean to see it. He’s buzzing with oversensitivity, both orgasms ripping themselves out of his body hands-free and utterly due to Jean’s fingers up in his ass.

It’s starting to hurt with how oversensitive Eren is, and the bright pinpricks of tears in his eyes have already trailed down his face as he continues to gasp and moan messily into Jean’s chest. 

But there’s another cord in his gut — and with each orgasm and each snapped string, this one cord gets tighter and tighter. Every thrust of Jean’s fingers is starting to burn with how painful it is and yet that cord keeps Eren pushing back into Jean, keeps him fucking on those fingers. “Oh fuck, Jean I — oh fuck I can’t! ” 

Eren doesn’t even recognise his voice anymore. And that fucking cord is getting tauter and tighter, as though Jean is pulling on it with his fingers, stretching it back like a bowstring — it’s going to snap. It’s going to snap and Eren’s going to die. 

The deliciously breathy sound of Eren’s panic melts Jean. He moans long and low as he runs his hand up and down Eren’s back, and his fingers steadily pound away at Eren. It takes all of his focus to maintain his precision, pushing right on the spots that make the boy squirm and keen like a cat in heat. His moans are soon broken up by rumbling, sadistic chuckles — he can feel Eren falling apart in his arms, and Sina, it’s making him weak in the knees.

Jean isn’t stopping — Jean isn’t stopping . Eren realizes this about at the same time that he realizes that he can’t possibly endure a minute more of this torture. He needs that damn cord in his gut to snap because the pain is getting almost unbearable — he needs something — anything! 

“Jean! Jean! ” He’s crying and gasping loud enough to make his skin crawl — people are going to hear him… people have probably already heard him.  “Jean, I need — mmh — hah! Can’t —”

“Yes, you can, doll,” Jean croons right into Eren’s ear. His free hand grabs Eren’s asscheek and squeezes it hard as he pushes the boy’s crotch against his thigh. “C’mon, you’re right there, I — f-fuck! — I can feel it…” He slowly rolls his hips into Eren’s, panting and trembling as his own arousal threatens to boil over. “Do it again for me, baby; cum for me…”

“Mmhm!” Eren starts to shake in Jean’s arms, his body growing more and more tense until he’s vibrating over Jean’s thigh, his legs shaking worse than a newborn foal’s. “Ah — I — fuck !” He’s grinding on Jean’s leg, his hole is swallowing Jean’s fingers, and that damn cord will not snap . 

Eren sobs in serious agony and tosses his head back until it knocks against the wood of the bungalow. “I n-need more !” he gasps, not even sure what more he needs. 

Jean’s head is spinning so quickly that it takes him a second to fill in the gaps. At last, he remembers that he does have more than two fingers…

He swiftly slides them out of Eren before spinning the boy around and bending him over with a not-so-gentle push to his upper back. Eren barely has enough time to catch himself on his arms against the wall before Jean is yanking down his trousers and underwear. He palms over Eren’s bare ass with both hands for a moment, admiring it ravenously, and then he kneels down to spread Eren’s cheeks, exposing his abused hole.

A perverse curiosity compels Jean to lean forward and slowly run his tongue around the rim, and the boy reacts like he’s been struck by lightning — freezing in place and sucking in a breath so sharp it hurts to hear. 

Eren does not dare look back — because if what he sees matches what he thinks he felt…

Eren looks back. 

“Holy fucking shit…”

Jean backs away from Eren’s ass for a moment, and Eren can hardly cope with the pretty rose-colored blush that covers Jean’s face. His cock bobs in the air and drips at the fucking sight. 

Jean blinks dumbly at his boyfriend a few times, somewhat shocked at his own boldness, but he doesn’t let it show for long. Soon his lips are curling up into another smug smirk as he practically eats up the look of shock on Eren’s face. “Oh, you liked that? Want me to have another taste?”

Eren’s mouth drops down… and his cock twitches up. “Uhnn…” he starts dumbly. “J-Jean — but… oh fuck… yes! Yesyesyesyes, fucking please!” he gasps with an eagerness that matches the incredulous, famished look in his eyes.

Jean presses his thighs together and lets out a heady, trembling sigh as he spreads Eren wider, leaning in to lap at Eren’s opening wetly, with more conviction. He then presses his lips to the rim and moans against it, just to see how deeply it’ll rattle Eren.

The boy fucking slips on the wall and nearly falls to the ground — barely reorienting himself in time to push back upright. “Oh Walls…” Eren sobs brokenly, the sensation something straight out of a wet-dream. “Where — fuck — when did you… ughh!” Weakly his hips buck into the air, a long line of precum drool swinging from his cockhead with the motion. 

Jean pulls his lips off of Eren’s ass with a pop, laughing with mischievous glee at the downright scandalous look of his boyfriend’s body. “I’m a natural, remember?” he quips as he presses two fingertips into Eren’s asshole and gently pries it open. “I’m just givin’ your pretty body what it asked for.” Without missing a beat, he spits into the opening, and brings a third finger up to join the others as they slowly slide inside of Eren.

“ Ohhh… ” Eren’s legs buckle. As if Jean spitting right on his hole wasn’t enough, now there’s a stretch as the boy gets three fucking fingers shoved into him. Eren feels that cord in his gut get drawn back again very very slowly. “Fuck… please — oh fuck, I think —” 

The cord gets pulled even further back… 

“Oh shit, Jean I think I’m gonna —”

Jean watches in open-mouthed awe as Eren’s legs start to shake again and shiny strings of precum leak out of the boy’s cock before dripping to the ground. Jean squeezes his thighs even closer together, his breath catching in his throat as he buries all three of his fingers in Eren to the hilt. With no hesitation, Jean pulls them out halfway to thrust them back inside, angling them slightly upward to hit that sweet spot that makes Eren melt.

And finally, finally … the cord snaps — both with the suddenness of a cymbal, and with the sweet relief of a cooling spring shower. It flows through each point on Eren’s body where Jean is touching and culminates right at the deep center of his gut before drooling out of his cockhead like tears of relief as his hips give weak jolts in time.

He’s definitely making some sort of ungodly sound, and definitely doing it too loud. But Eren can’t fucking think of anything except how damn good the orgasm is — his previous two felt like fucking teasers with how long and full this one is. 

His legs fully give out and he slips to the dirt right down on his hands and knees, gasping and panting. Weakly, he drops down the rest of the way, flat to the ground, barely avoiding the puddle of cum he made, and rolls over onto his side with a dumb, loose smile on his face. “God damn it, Jean…” he laughs feebly. “Fucking hell get over here, you stupid bastard…” With flimsy arms, Eren tugs on Jean’s shirt, coaxing the boy over him so that he can see his face and his reddened lips.

Jean crawls over to Eren with an equally dopey grin on his face, sputtering out laughs in between shallow gasps for air. “Holy — oh shit…” Jean crumples to the ground beside Eren, pulling him into a tight hug and burying his face in the boy’s back. “I — fuck I can’t believe I just did that…”

Eren wheezes out a laugh as he drapes his arms over Jean’s where they wrap around him. “Fuck, neither — neither can I. Shit, you must have been seriously turned on…” He turns his face a little to look over his shoulder at Jean, a small quirk to his brow. “Wanna rub one off on me? I don’t think I can move right now…” 

“Oh fuck yes, I need that…” Jean’s voice is so low and breathy that it’s barely there — he scrambles to unclasp his belt and free his cock from his trousers and underwear. The shaft is a furious shade of red and the head is soaked in glossy precum. Jean gives himself a firm squeeze, and he gasps sharply as pleasure rips through his veins. “Tell me — hah — tell me where you want it…”

Eren sighs longingly. Seeing that delicious cock and hearing the wet sounds emanating from Jean’s slow-moving fist, he instantly feels a sharp stab of envy for those sensations. “Change of plans…” he mutters huskily, shooting a hand behind him to bat Jean’s away. “Fuck my thighs — you’re wet enough — it’ll feel just like a cunt.” 

Eren doesn’t give Jean much of a choice in the matter. He shuffles back until his ass is flush with Jean’s stomach and then guides Jean’s burning hot cock between his thighs, prying them open a little. “Shit… I — oh fuck you’re so wet.” 

Jean shudders as his cock is enveloped in the soft warmth of Eren’s inner thighs. They’re not even squeezing him yet, but he’s so damn sensitive that his hips still sway and his own thighs tremble all on their own. Jean hangs onto Eren’s hips for dear life, sighing and whimpering helplessly.

Once Eren feels that Jean’s cock is in the right position, he shuts his legs firmly and brings one hand down to adjust his cock and balls so they are pulled a little out of the way. With his other hand he reaches back around to Jean’s hip and tugs on him a little, guiding his thrusts. “Feels good?” he asks breathlessly, not really expecting a verbal response but hoping for one anyway.

“Anh! Fuck yes!” A new stream of precum spills out of Jean’s cock and trails over the curve of Eren’s leg before dripping wetly into the dirt. Jean lovingly runs a hand up Eren’s spine until he reaches the boy’s hair and digs his fingers into it. “Mmh, ahh — Sina…”

Eren pulls in a shaky breath — Jean’s arousal is loosening his tight hold on his body, and he needs to clamp down because three orgasms was enough to make him suddenly desperate for a piss. 

He’s holding on… but just barely. 

“J-just like that… yeah, fuck Jean — fuck me,” he half-hisses, half-whimpers. 

Jean tries to play it cool with steady, measured thrusts of his hips, but the perfect pressure on his shaft from Eren’s tightly closed thighs and the intoxicating sounds of Eren’s sexy, desperate whines are enough to make Jean lose his mind. Soon he’s frantically bucking his hips against Eren’s ass like an animal, panting and keening through gritted teeth and leaking like a faucet onto Eren’s inner thighs each time that his cock passes through them.

As soon as Jean ups his tempo, Eren has to strangle-hold his cock — he doesn’t need piss spraying everywhere and he has half a mind to keep whatever shreds of his dignity are left. 

But he’s slowly losing that half… Jean’s voice is making noises that make Eren groan sympathetically, and the sound of his cock as it fucks Eren’s thighs is so vulgar it almost sounds like a cunt. 

“Fuck Jean… c’mon… do it harder — fuck me like you’d fuck Mikasa,” Eren growls without really thinking.

Jean’s stomach flips at the sound of her name, and he’s far too drunk on his arousal to stifle the loud, needy moan that bursts out of him at the thought of her splayed open underneath him like that. He drags his fingers down Eren’s sides, ripping red marks into the skin as he thrusts harder and faster into Eren’s thighs. Red-hot pleasure swirls in his gut, and his fingernails carve scarlet crescents into Eren’s hips.

Eren gasps at the sharp stinging pain that burns like mini-iron brands on his skin. He feels hot as flame, both ashamed at what he had just said out loud and aroused beyond belief at Jean’s reaction. 

He swallows his nerves and twists his head back to better huff out his words, unable to stomach saying them louder. “You — uh — mmmh, you really liked that, huh?” he whispers thickly. The hand on his cock loosens somewhat and then quickly tightens when Eren feels a trickle slip out of him. 

He hopes to Maria that Jean’s too far gone to see the urgent need on his face. “Shit — she’d be even warmer than this, Jean… warmer and wetter and tighter …” 

“Fuck! Sina, please!” Jean’s thrusting grows more erratic, and he starts mewling as his core grows hotter, the heat pooling at a point deep within him. His whole body blushes, trembling from the mortification of coming apart so quickly and so loudly…

Eren can taste Jean’s desperation and feels it as every thrust gets more and more shaky and rough. His boyfriend is being torn open for his own viewing pleasure… and it’s fucking gorgeous. “Fuck — you’re so damn perfect Jean…” Eren croons, but it comes out in gasps with every thrust the other boy makes. “C’mon… doin’ so fuckin’ good for me; she’d moan your name if you fucked her like this. Damn near go cross-eyed ‘cause of your dick.” 

Jean laughs giddily as he imagines the spellbinding sight and sound of the fantasy. “Oh hell yes!” He leans forward and presses himself flush against Eren’s back, wrapping his arms around the boy’s chest and tickling his perky nipples. He leaves sloppy, wet kisses on the nape of Eren’s neck, moaning obscenely onto the flesh. His hips pound into Eren’s thighs at a dizzying pace. Burning sparks dance in his gut.

“Oh fuck — fuck I’m so close!”

Eren can’t help but arch into the sensation on the back of his neck — it burns as much as it tickles and it makes him forget how to speak momentarily. 

It also makes him forget to choke-hold his cock and he leaks a little before quickly recalling his task. The sharp stab of pain in his bladder is inconsequential in the mist of arousal however — a faint foghorn that hardly makes it to his ears. “Keep — keep going! Shit, Jean! Give it to me — cum on me!” he gasps. 

As if on command, the heat in Jean’s core surges, and he chokes out a strangled cry as rope after rope of cum sprays onto the ground. He bites down on Eren’s shoulder to muffle a slew of lewd groaning noises. His hips sloppily buck back and forth as he rides out his orgasm, and trails of pearly white spunk paint Eren’s inner thighs. Jean nearly squeezes the life out of Eren while holding onto him, feeling his muscles grow slacker by the second.

Ever the voyeur, Eren has his eyes glued to the sight of Jean’s rose-red cock as it spits and sputters out those perfect lines of white essence on the ground. And with each one, Eren feels himself grow more and more tense with unprecedented levels of arousal. The dirt soaks up the moisture of Jean’s cum and Eren feels envious of the damn dirt. 

Jean’s thrusts tune down into gentle, if shaky, humping, and Eren lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wants so badly to turn around and kiss Jean’s orgasm-weak lips, taste that lingering pleasure on his loose tongue, maybe feel his boyfriend’s trademark smirk when they inevitably break for air… 

But he’s about two seconds from pissing himself and if he wets the dirt right under them now then any chance of making it look like they simply had a scuffle on the ground will be impossible. So he wrenches Jean’s arms off of him and fumbles over onto his knees, tripping over his trousers as he staggers upright. 

Jean’s legs give out after losing Eren’s support. He just barely catches himself on his forearms, narrowly avoiding a rough face-plant in the dirt. “Eren what the —”

When he turns his head up, his eyes widen at the sight of Eren weakly stabilizing himself against the bungalow wall, not two feet away, and instantly letting out a torrent of piss loud enough to be embarrassing.

“Oh fuck that was close…” Eren gasps in blissed relief. 

Jean chuckles into the back of his hand as he watches Eren’s piss burst out of his cock and soak the wooden wall of the bungalow. The blush over his cheeks deepens, turning a perfect rose red. “Damn, how long have you been holding that for?”

Eren groans, his stream stuttering a bit as he leans against his forearm on the wall, panting slightly. “‘Bout since you fucked that third orgasm outta me…” From under his arm, Eren takes a peek at Jean and is somewhat unsurprised, though still embarrassed, to see that his boyfriend is indeed watching him. He lets the last few spurts out with a minute thrust in the air, and then shakes himself off, adding a lingering tug just for the sake of it. “Quit grinnin’ like that — next time, I’mma just piss on you since you like watchin’ so much.” 

“Huh?” Jean promptly chokes on his laughter, and the blush spreads over his entire face. “Shit — if you want revenge that bad you can just say that…”

Eren smiles lazily at Jean and pushes off the wall smoothly, walking to his boyfriend with an easy gait that is a direct result of the delightful buzzing after-effects of relief. He stops just as he stands over Jean, and slowly tucks himself into his underwear. “You’ve got me,” he whispers with a smirk, “that’s exactly what I want…”

Jean wants so badly to snipe back at Eren, but he’s struck dumb. He’s humiliated by how quickly his mouth runs dry. He scrambles to at least sit upright as he looks up at Eren — he can feel that any attempt to stand right now would be a lost cause. Jean tries to give Eren a flat, unaffected look, but the sparks of anticipation flitting through his eyes betray his true reaction to Eren’s teasing…

Eren zips his trousers up and then squats down on his heels next to Jean, grinning with both true amusement and something much darker floating in his eyes. “But that wouldn’t really be revenge if you wanted it — ‘cause remember, I didn’t want you to piss on me that first time in the gearshed. You did that outta your own twisted little fantasy to put me in my place. And, sure it worked… for like ten minutes, but now?” 

Eren reaches out and cups Jean’s chin in his hand forcing the boy to look him eye to eye. “Now you got me well and truly into this shit and I’mma find a way to get you right back. Mark my damn words, I’ll have you just as humiliated and shocked as I was that day. And it’s gonna take a minute for you to decide if you liked what I did or not.” 

The growl in Eren’s voice sends a shiver down Jean’s spine; he can’t tell anymore whether it’s from arousal or genuine fear. On some level, it doesn’t matter to him — he’s no chicken, so whenever Eren decides he wants to finish this twisted game of theirs, Jean will steel his nerves and face his punishment like a man. This is Eren that he’s talking about, after all. Whatever this lunatic will dish out to him, Jean is sure that he can take it.

“We’ll see about that,” Jean replies huskily. “Do your worst, then, Eren.”

Eren’s eyes flash at the implications and memories behind that threat and provocation. But as soon as that dark, hungry look appears… it’s gone, replaced with a bright, almost childish, glee as Eren darts forward and presses a kiss to Jean’s forehead. “It’s a date then!” he quips giddily. “Get yourself sorted; the others are gonna think we’ve either killed each other or that we’re fucking within an inch of our lives. And I’m thinkin’ you want them to believe the former.”

“Uh — y-yeah — fuckin’ hell…” The sudden, sharp flip of Eren’s demeanor gives Jean whiplash. He shakes his head and hurriedly pulls his underwear and trousers back up, unable to completely shed the feeling of dizziness. It takes him longer than he cares to admit to push himself back onto his feet.

Eren gets to his feet as well, and then walks around Jean to dust off his rear from whatever dirt remained on his pants — and because he’ll never say no to patting Jean’s ass. “For the record…” he starts conversationally, “If you want to hate-fuck there are better ways then gettin’ me riled up with the damn MP brainwashing bullcrap you just threw.” He slaps Jean on the ass hard and moves around him with a grin. “Don’t pull that shit again, bitch.” 

Jean sucks in a breath at the rough contact. He hopes that his subsequent laughter doesn’t sound as anxious as he feels. Because none of that talk was ever an act — surely Eren knows that, right? (Then again, Eren is kind of a delusional airhead, so it wouldn’t shock Jean if he somehow missed that).

At any rate, Eren has finally calmed the fuck down, so Jean has no desire to get into any of that stuff with his boyfriend right now. “Understood,” he answers with a playful smirk and an eye-roll, and then he coolly wraps an arm around Eren’s shoulders. “Shall we head back, then?”

“Hmm…” Eren smiles contently and leans into Jean’s chest a bit. “S’long as I don’t smell too much like cum. I think we’re good though.” 

Jean snickers a bit before leaning down to exaggeratedly sniff at Eren’s hair. “Yep, all good!” he laughs, and then he kisses Eren’s forehead. His arm slides down to hook around Eren’s waist as he starts walking them toward the bungalow where all of their friends are.

Chapter Text

By the time Exam Week came to an end, the start of a whole new slew of tests began. The Training Corps, as much as they could, frequently performed mock scouting missions for the cadets within the confines of Wall Rose. Occasionally, they were also given missions more aligned to the Garrison and the Military Police, but those tended to require officers from either branch to supervise the proceedings. A bunch of undertrained cadets using ODM gear in the heart of the Capital is not something to take lightly. 

That being said, the most common excursions that the cadets were sent on, were mock-reconnaissance missions. And this mission is no different. 

They will split into three parties and map the best possible path to a predetermined location some hundred and twenty kilometers away. On horseback it would be quick to make it in less than two days — so the allotted time is three. 

A select few cadets have been given the task of recording the process of the trip; others have been tasked with mapping the topography; and finally, squad leadership positions have been handed out to five cadets: Marco, Annie, Franz, Mina, and perhaps most shocking and concerning of all, Connie. 

When Springer’s name was announced alongside the other names for the squad leaders, the kid choked and sputtered so loudly the rest of the cadets turned to stare at him. If it weren’t for Ymir smacking the back of his head he would have completely forgotten to salute and accept the position. 

With so little time to properly prepare, the squad leaders agreed to separate their groups only after the first day’s journey over the mostly-flat terrain. Then they would split up to find the quickest path to the objective centered in the tall pines of the Hainich forest. 

The first day, then, is memorably one of the better and more fun days for the cadets. Sasha never stops beaming, relishing the feeling of the soft breeze that flows through her hair. “Gosh, it feels so nice to be out here on horseback!” she sighs blissfully. “We really should get to do stuff like this more often…”

Jean, who’s riding near Sasha, just barely stifles a few snickers. “You sure about that? Seriously, whose bright idea was it to put Connie in charge of fucking anything?”

“Oi!” Connie turns to glare at Jean over his shoulder from his place on Sasha’s other side. “I’ll have you know I make a great scout leader! It’s not that hard anyway; anyone can just tell people what to do!” To demonstrate his brilliance, the boy turns to Sasha and holds out his hand. “Sasha, give me the map!” 

“You got it, Scout Leader Connie!” Sasha reaches into a pouch hanging off her saddle and grabs a folded up map, handing it to Connie with a flourish of her hand and a wide, toothy grin.

Jean sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t count, dude — she’s your best friend. She’d do literally anything for you.”

Connie gasps, affronted. He takes the map from Sasha and does absolutely nothing with it while he glares at Jean. “Ehh? How could you say that! Sasha wouldn’t even share her breakfast biscuit with me this morning!” 

“Hey, I toldja I was starvin’ somethin’ fierce, didn’t I?” Sasha retorts with a small pout. “And ya didn’t seem too bothered by it in the end…”

Connie blushes somewhat as he purses his lips and refuses to make a comment. His silence rather speaks volumes, however, and from behind Sasha, Daz lets out a quiet snort. “Best friends, sure…” he chuckles, sending a knowing smile to Jean. 

Jean returns the smile, sighing as he shakes his head. “Give it fifteen years and maybe she’ll get a clue,” he jokes.

“Oi!” Connie pulls his horse back and sends Jean a red-faced glare of panic. “Don’t be an idiot, Jean! You’re not in my squad but I sure as hell don’t mind tellin’ Marco that you’re goin’ off focus!” 

From behind them, Marco laughs. “I’m right here, Connie… Jean’s fine.”

“Exactly.” Jean turns around briefly to give Marco a bright smile before turning back to smirk at Connie. “A good squad leader keeps his nose in his own damn business, yeah?”

“Tch, jerk,” Connie mutters, pink-faced but otherwise simply rolling his eyes as he kicks his horse back up next to Sasha. “Eh, Sasha, you have the compass?”

Marco turns to his own companion, who’s been rather silent so far, and gives him a small smile. “You doing alright Floch? It’s not too warm is it?”

Floch, who’d been zoning out for the past few minutes, startles at the sound of Marco’s voice, gentle as it is. “Huh? Mm, n-no, I’m all good…”

“Oh?” Marco teases, urging his horse a little closer to Floch so that he can easily reach the redhead. He hands the boy his waterskin. “Still, you should drink; you seem a little sunsick — it’s probably because you’re so pale.” 

Floch stares incredulously at the waterskin, his face flushing a bright scarlet. “Uh, isn’t that yours, Marco?”

Marco giggles, and pulls back the waterskin. He uncorks it easily and uses the edge of his sleeve to wipe the rim before handing it back to Floch. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes and his grin is teasing when he says: “There, all better?”

Floch can’t hold Marco’s gaze for long — he shifts it to the grass, biting the inside of his lip, and he refuses to acknowledge the strange pang of disappointment in his chest. “Yeah,” he mutters as he takes the waterskin from Marco and brings it to his lips.

“Heh, you really should drink more often — the sun’s only going to get warmer today and tomorrow,” Marco says offhandedly. He turns his focus back to Jean, who’s teasing the life out of Connie with the help of Samuel and Daz, and feels his stomach sink a little. 

The boy is talking so animatedly, his hands throwing casual gestures out in the air as he speaks, that Marco feels somewhat captivated by his motions. He’s lost in the boy’s blush-tinted blond hair, his thick and melodic voice as it weaves in and out of teasing tones. More than anything… Marco just wants to get a glimpse of Jean’s eyes — his razor-sharp, gilded irises. Even if just a brief look.

He turns his focus forward past Jean and thinks he can spot Mikasa trailing next to Eren and Armin. The former boy babbles excitedly, having long forgotten his pen and paper. A cool, slimy feeling forms in Marco’s stomach, and he’s too determined to ignore its implications to give it any more attention. He turns back to Floch. “So, what do you think about us taking the path through the cliffs?”

“Oh, uh…” Floch hands Marco’s waterskin back before fishing his map out of the breast pocket of his jacket, unfolding it so that Marco can see the route he points at. “If you mean this one, then it seems like a safe bet. Not too winding, and it avoids most of the really rough terrain.”

“Yes, and I spoke to Armin and he seems to think that there’s a good likelihood that the path is downhill,” Marco adds excitedly. “So our going will be a little faster to the forest — it should get us in first.” 

Floch can’t help but chuckle at that. “Since when is this a race?” His gaze floats over to Eren, and he’s instantly transfixed by the bright smile on the boy’s face and the shimmer in his viridian eyes. “Probably Eren’s idea, right?” he asks only half-rhetorically as he watches Eren fidget with the pen in his hand instead of writing with it.

Marco follows Floch’s eyes for a moment and that cold slimy feeling threatens to make a very swift and concerning return. So, as quickly and genuinely as he can, he laughs a little. “Oh, well of course! Eren’s nothing if not competitive.” 

“Yeah, you got that right.” Floch’s face starts to burn with embarrassment — he’s definitely been staring for too long and Marco has definitely noticed — so he peels his eyes off of Eren and stares down at the ground, fiddling restlessly with the reins in his hands.

“Oi, Eren!” Jean’s voice booms in the air, causing many of the nearby cadets to turn their heads. “Does Connie have game? Yes or no?” Samuel and Daz chuckle shamelessly at the question, and Connie’s alarmed sputtering goes rather unnoticed.

Eren turns around in his saddle, briefly allowing Armin some room to breathe, and he pretends to give the question some consideration. “Connie? I dunno, man…” He grins at the buzzcut kid.

“Ungg, Jean! Why’d you ask Eren of all people!” Connie wails, holding his head in his hands and groaning. 

Jean smiles easily as he shrugs his shoulders. “He was the first person that came to mind,” he answers casually, turning to throw Eren a wink.

Across to Jean’s left, Ymir laughs very loudly. “Oh please, Jean!” she cackles wickedly. “Don’t play coy… we all know it’s because Eren’s the fuckin’ king of game. He wrangled your straight ass under him didn’t he?”

“Oh, fuck off, Ymir; he did no such thing,” Jean huffs as a faint pink blush dusts his cheeks. 

Marco thinks the pink suits Jean very nicely in the summer sun; he only wishes that the reason for it were different. 

“Ha! Who are you foolin’?” Ymir snorts. She turns to Eren with a positively evil look in her eyes. “Oi, Eren. How long before he got on his knees for ya?”

Jean’s eyes widen at the question, and he tightens his grip on his reins. “Never happened,” he blurts out in a hurry.

Eren, to Ymir’s utter shock, blushes and laughs lightly. “That’s confidential, Ymir. You’d need special permission for that information; talk to my secretary, yeah?” He turns and gives Jean a brilliant smile, cheeks still dusted pink. 

The tips of Jean’s ears turn bright red as he glares at his stupidly impish boyfriend. “Eren what the fuck!”

Connie snorts noisily into his arm, clearly delighted to be out of the spotlight. “Heh, hey Sasha, since Jean got snagged by Eren’s game does that mean he’s got negative game?”

“Huh…” Sasha presses the tip of her index finger to her lips as she thinks it over. “Then wouldn’t that mean Eren had more game than Jean from the very beginning?”

“Yeah right he did!” Jean snaps back with a roll of his eyes. Daz and Samuel both struggle to hold in their chortles.

Sasha giggles into the back of her hand. “But didn’t he? Everyone knows Eren’s rap sheet, but I ain’t heard nary a word o’ yours.”

“Potato girl’s got a point, and you won’t hear me say that twice,” Ymir snorts. She turns her crafty gaze back to Jean and her smirk grows wider. “Ah, c’mon then Jean. Spill it… Eren was your first wasn’t he?”

Jean’s heart leaps into his throat — he grimaces and turns away from Ymir, anxiously rubbing his temple. “Alright, I’m done answering dumbass questions for the day.”

“No you’re not!” Samuel shouts at Jean, a devious grin spreading across his face. “You can dish it out but you can’t take it? C’mon man, spill!”

“Ah, haven’t you teased him enough?” Marco interjects, leaning forward on his saddle a bit to aim his comment at the rowdy bunch. “Jean’s entitled to his secrets as we all are, no?”

The gentle sound of Marco’s voice relaxes Jean enough that he remembers to breathe. “Sina, at least somebody around here has good sense,” he sighs as he turns to give Marco a soft smile.

The sound of trotting hooves interrupts Marco’s heart palpitations at Jean’s smile. He turns to see Thomas trotting up from the back with a smile on his face that looks far too mischievous. “Just so you all know, I’ve been doing a very good job of keepin’ note of all our conversations and I just thought I should add somethin’ real important to the discussion.” He turns to Marco and says, solemn and serious, “There are no secrets in the 104th.” He taps his charcoal pencil to his clipboard indicating the recordings of their conversations. 

“Oh he got it on the record!” Connie howls, nearly falling off his saddle. “As your scout leader, Thomas, I hereby pronounce you —” He pauses, blinking dumbly for a moment before turning to Sasha. “What’s a good thing to say after that?”

“Uh… ooh! How about the official squad scribe?”

Connie clicks his fingers. “Hah! Perfect! Thomas, you’re the official squad scribe.” The blond boy simply quirks a brow and smiles.

“Tch, you guys are letting Jean get away without answering the question,” Ymir butts in again. She moves her horse inwards to the formation a bit, pulling away from Christa, despite the girl’s soft protests, as she walks her mare by Jean. “C’mon horse-boy, admit it. Eren took your virginity didn’t he?”

Jean furrows his brows and clicks his tongue, leaning his body slightly away from the boorish girl. “I’m not admittin’ shit, Ymir. Why the fuck do you even care so much, huh?”

Ymir sits up in her saddle and laughs, genuinely amused in her somewhat cruel manner. “Because it’s always a fuckin’ treat when the perfect little straight boy gets bent by the slut,” she snorts.

Jean snarls at Ymir, unsure whether he’s more frustrated by her nerve-grating attitude or by his cringe-inducing memories of the front that he’d been putting up. “We have names, asshat,” he snipes at her. “Get off your high horse and use ‘em. Or I’ll push you off; your choice.”

The freckled girl almost seems impressed by Jean’s words, but she’s not deterred in the least, not even with Eren slowing down up front to line up with Jean. “Oh? So defensive?” she teases. “What, did Eren eat you up whole the first time? Barely lasted a minute?”

“Actually, Ymir…” Eren interrupts before Jean properly loses his cool, “I wasn’t Jean’s first at all,” he hums. “That honor goes to a Trost girl — Valerie, no?” He gives Jean a secret knowing grin. 

Jean wants to kiss Eren and punch him in the face all at the same time. It takes every ounce of his strength not to burst into nervous laughter after hearing that name. 

“Alright, secret’s out, then…” He straightens his posture and smirks at Ymir. “It was a long time ago, so I don’t talk about it much. Just a couple o’ stupid kids foolin’ around, y’know?”

Ymir looks somewhat disappointed, if her distasteful frown says anything. “Huh, well, knowing boys, you probably turned her off men permanently then. Good thing Eren’s got you bent — girl woulda been miserable with your pony-ass.” 

She trots back to Christa, fun clearly over with the secret being spilled, and Eren rolls his eyes, tossing the middle finger at her back where only Jean can see. “Pft, please, any girl’d be swooning if you so much as looked at her,” he laughs.

“I know that’s right.” Jean beams and laughs with Eren — then his lips curl into a playful smirk as he looks at his boyfriend through his lashes. “But you know I only have eyes for you, Eren, right?”

The smaller boy blinks, looking a bit dumbstruck at the sentiment. He’s also rather bewitched by that undercurrent ‘come-hither’ look Jean is giving him, and it makes his stomach flutter rather quickly. He feels himself blush as he giggles nervously. “Heh, I — uh — well, I guess that makes me quite special, doesn’t it?” He thinks his voice is a bit shaky and he hopes Jean attributes it to his bashfulness and does not pick up on Eren’s anxiety. 

Eren doesn’t think he could say the same line back to Jean and it rather freaks him out. 

“Oi, Eren…” Connie says with a lilt to his voice that comes out sounding more like he’s struggling to not laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself — Jean also has eyes for Mikasa, or do you not remember earlier this year?”

Sasha starts cackling at the memory of it. “Oh, Walls, he couldn’t finish a damn sentence while he was in front o’ her! It was — wow, it was embarrassing to watch!”

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” Jean shouts at them, his amber eyes burning with mortified rage. “Ignore them, Eren; they’re just sayin’ shit to piss you off…”

Eren feels his brows twist with confusion as he tries to get a read on why Jean’s so embarrassed — Eren had used Mikasa in their little role-plays because he had a suspicion that Jean still liked her, so why would Jean be worried?

He smiles and laughs easily, reaching out to snag Jean’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Heh, I can’t even hear them, Jeanbo…” 

***

“Jeanbo?” Floch sputters out from behind the two boys, grimacing as his whole face flushes red. “What is he, four years old? Gross, Eren…”

Beside him, Marco stares blankly at Jean’s back, at where his and Eren’s hands are joined, the same line running like a mantra in his head: ‘But you know I only have eyes for you, Eren’... 

His fists close tightly on the reins as he lets out a broken-sounding, soft laugh. “Yeah, kinda stupid nickname…” 

Floch flinches at the obvious strain in Marco’s voice. It makes him too aware of the dull ache in his chest that he’s trying desperately to ignore. “Hey,” he whispers sharply, “do you need any more water? Now you’re spacing out…”

Marco startles at Floch’s voice and feels himself blush. He can’t quite bring himself to snap back into his cheery self, nor does he think he can fix a mask of indifference up on his face at the moment, so he settles with muttering: “Sure, yeah… maybe.” 

Floch nods once, sensing that that’s the most he’ll get out of Marco for a while. He makes the mistake of glancing at Eren one more time — one of the boy’s hands is still joined with Jean’s, and their arms swing easily between their horses. With his other hand, Eren takes down notes and shows them off to Jean, beaming with pride until Jean insults the unreadable script and Eren’s smile morphs into an adorable pout.

The scene is so sweet that it shatters Floch’s heart. He ducks his head down to swipe at his tear-pricked eyes with his sleeve and then keeps his gaze trained on the ground.

Somewhat concerned at Floch’s unusual silence, Marco glances up right in time to see the boy swipe his sleeve quickly over his eyes. There’s no need to interpret what that gesture conveys, and the shock of Floch’s own pain hits Marco square in the chest. 

He feels at once a sudden urge to take Floch’s hand, to hold it and share some sort of comfort, perhaps tell him — without words — that he isn’t forgotten or alone. Marco also feels an inappropriate amount of reactionary anger towards Eren that he can’t quite dismiss properly.

That cold slimy feeling is back with a vengeance, and Marco hears it in his voice when he says, rather loudly: “Alright, I think we should break and water the horses at the creek up ahead — they’ve been walking for at least six hours now. I want my squad to fall in!” He kicks his horse into a brisk canter and leads the way down to the aforementioned creek. 

Thomas snorts and turns to Daz with an incredulous grin. “Damn, Marco took off fast . I mean they were only holding hands; you’d think the poor guy saw them kiss or something.” 

“I know, right?” Daz snickers unabashedly. “Dude really can’t take much, huh… even the hint of it is enough to send him running.”

Without even realizing it, Jean’s grip on Eren’s hand tightens considerably as he listens to the boys gossip behind him. He wonders if everyone is clued into the truth of Marco’s discomfort except for him, and he starts to sweat under his collar for reasons that have nothing to do with the heat.

Eren finishes jotting down the note of their rest and closes the journal with a slap. He turns to Jean with a grin and tugs on his hand. “Race you to the creek?” he says with a wiggle of his eyebrow, noticing too late that Jean looks a bit distant. 

It takes a moment for Jean to fully register Eren’s voice. He forgets to put his charming mask back on before turning to look at Eren — his expression is flat, and his eyes are panicked. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

Eren feels very concerned by Jean’s expression; he can’t even be sure what on earth just happened to put it on Jean’s face. He hadn’t been listening to the chittering of the boys behind him, having only heard Marco’s order before tuning out to write his note. 

He tries for a comforting smile and tugs Jean’s hand up to his lips to briefly kiss the knuckles. “You good, baby?” he whispers softly, so that the others don’t hear. 

The sweet gesture gives Jean butterflies. Before long, he’s softly smiling at Eren, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m… I’m alright,” he mutters, “just distracted.”

“Eh?” Eren gasps mockingly. “But I need to be your only distraction!” Cheekily, he pulls Jean’s hand back to his lips, but instead of a kiss, he sucks on one of Jean’s fingers, a devilish glint in his eyes. 

Jean sputters out a laugh from an incredulous, open-mouthed smile. “Hey, hey, what are you — !” He loses his words when Eren’s tongue starts swirling around his finger, and he yanks it out of the boy’s mouth in a giddy panic before his boyfriend can get any more bright ideas. “Fuck — dude, we’re in public!” he giggles.

Eren chuckles and makes a bit of a show licking his lips. “Please, Jean — I pissed my pants in public because it turned you on. Y’think I have any damn decency left?”

“I guess not,” Jean chuckles with a shake of his head, “but I still do, remember?”

From behind the two boys, Thomas rides up. He takes one look at Jean and seems to sag with some relief as he turns to Eren accusingly. “Damnit Eren, try to keep it in your pants for one day? Not everyone wants to see Jean pitch a fuckin’ tent right now.” Far from being embarrassed, Eren only laughs, genuinely amused. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t,” Jean hisses at Thomas, balling his fists at his sides as his ears turn red again. “Why don’t any of you people just mind your own damn business?”

“Uh, because Jean —” Thomas starts, rolling his eyes “— you’re in public .” 

“You both are such fuckin’ prudes!” Eren laughs, and then kicks his horse into a run down the rest of the hill to the creek. “Later prudes!” 

“Oh, fuck you, Eren!” Jean kicks his own horse as hard as he can and takes off after the boy, shouting insults and obscenities the whole way.

“Really guys?” Thomas throws his hands up and groans, eventually following the boys down the hill to where the rest of the 104th awaits.

Chapter Text

The faint popping and cracking of firewood feels inordinately loud against the strung out silence of Marco’s squad. The night is cold, the moon is full, the stars are rather obscured by looming, heavy clouds… and the silence is deafening. 

Eren is reclining over Jean’s legs, finishing up his notes for their second day’s trip. They had reached the objective second, Annie’s group beating them by an hour, and there’s little to note but Eren still has a job to do. 

Marco is growing less and less patient with the boy, his irritation stemming from something dark in his heart that he still refuses to name. He’s currently helping Floch tend the fire — cracking the sticks and tossing them into the orange heat. He thinks that if Eren starts speaking again he might throw a stick at him . 

Mikasa is reviewing Armin’s map, her soft words of praise barely audible to anyone but the blond boy beside her. “These are really good, Armin… you didn’t have to make three copies, though.” 

“Of course I did,” Armin laughs as he fiddles with the ends of his hair. “I don’t want it to be a huge issue if we end up losing or damaging one or two of them…”

Mikasa smiles softly at him and brushes her hand over his thigh warmly. “I’ll keep one in my saddle satchel. It’ll be safe as Sina there,” she offers gently.  

Armin returns Mikasa’s smile somewhat bashfully, blushing lightly as he hands Mikasa the map that he’s holding. “I’d appreciate that; thanks so much.”

As Mikasa takes the offered parchment and gets up to put it in her saddle, Eren lets out a long hum. “Jean?” he asks with an air of nonchalance. “You don’t happen to remember how — uh — how many trees were around the objective point do you?”

Marco snaps his twig before he gives into the urge to throw it.

Jean raises an eyebrow at Eren. “I dunno, a lot?” he scoffs. “Why the fuck does that matter?”

Eren frowns as he scratches off something he just wrote. “ Because , Commander said to be specific and I don’t know if writing down ‘there were a lot of trees’ is specific .” He turns the page and starts writing from the top, pausing to scratch out every sixth or seventh word that he misspells. 

Jean chuckles at the cute little scowl on Eren’s face and ruffles the boy’s hair for the fun of it. “Relax, before you melt your brain, idiot,” he jokes. “Just be specific about what’s important. The Commander wants the lay of the land, right? So paint the picture.”

“Tch, ‘paint a picture’ what are you, some sort of poet?” Eren chortles, glancing up from where he lays on Jean’s lap to give his boyfriend an upside down grin. 

“No,” Jean answers coolly as he pokes Eren’s nose. “But I draw sometimes, so that phrasing just came to mind.”

If Eren’s ears could perk up, they would have done so right that moment. He rolls over onto his stomach and looks at Jean appraisingly, narrowing his eyes as though judging the boy with great focus. “You? An artist? Please, I’ve heard better jokes,” he snorts, and rolls back over to continue where he left off in his journal.

As soon as Eren settles back into place, Jean flicks him right in the middle of his forehead. “I wasn’t kidding!” he insists. “I’ve been doing it since I was like ten!”

Eren laughs, but doesn’t quite get a chance to say anything when suddenly there’s a shadow cast over him and Jean. 

Mikasa bends down and offers Jean a blank piece of parchment and a charcoal pencil. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and it’s not clear whether it’s a result of the warm fire or her sudden shyness. “I — I’d like to see… I’ve never been able to, myself. But — I’ve seen other people draw sometimes…” she whispers brokenly. “If you wouldn’t mind… to show me?” 

For a moment, Jean is frozen in awe — he’s sure that he’s never seen a woman look prettier in his whole life than Mikasa does now. He’s transfixed by the soft pink hue of her cheeks and the bashful shimmer in her striking silver eyes. The soothing scent of jasmine floating around her makes his head fuzzy, and he briefly imagines her stunning figure sitting serenely in a field of the delicate white flowers. Sina, Rose, and Maria, he’d love nothing more than to draw and frame such a gorgeous image.

Jean snaps himself out of the daydream once he remembers that he’s leaving her hanging. He hastily clears his throat and reaches out to take the parchment and pencil, grinning giddily all the while. “Yeah, s-sure, I’d love to, Mikasa…”

Eren throws a smirk at Armin, who giggles at Jean’s smitten expression, and then he gets up off Jean’s lap to give the boy some room to work his magic. But not too much room because despite his disbelief, he is still rather curious. He hovers a few inches off of Jean’s shoulder, eyeing his pencil as it makes rough strokes over the white paper. “That doesn’t look like anything,” he frowns. “What’s it supposed to be, even? Looks like a titan? No, more like a tree? Wait what?”

“Can you shut the fuck up and let me work, dipshit?” Jean hisses through his teeth. He takes a breath to keep himself from accidentally snapping his pencil. “It’s not gonna look like anything for a little while, and then it will, okay?”

Eren huffs and sits back on his ass, pouting but deciding that he doesn’t quite want to risk Jean’s temper with another quip. 

Marco watches silently; he hadn’t missed that star-struck look on Jean’s face when Mikasa crouched down in front of him. Hadn’t missed it and wished he had. He snaps another twig and tosses it into the fire, watching it burn with something painful in his chest that feels an awful lot like some unholy flames are consuming him, too. 

He’s run out of sticks to break and resorts to picking up a stone and fiddling with it mutely, glancing up to watch the scene in front of him with masochistic frequency. 

The heat of the fire feels tame to Floch compared to the searing waves of rage that he can feel rolling off of Marco’s body. He frowns as he absently traces random patterns in the dirt, afraid to see what that anger looks like in Marco’s eyes. “Ridiculous, right?” he whispers to Marco. “How much you wanna bet Jean’s bluffing and has no idea what the fuck he’s doing?”

Marco clicks his tongue, dragging his gaze away from the reclined figure that so perfectly ensnared his heart. “He’s not. Jean draws… really well. He’s incredible at it.” Marco’s heart rather aches now that the last part of Jean he had to himself is being spilled for everyone else. He bites back the sharp pain in his throat, but can’t quite stop the burning sensation from wetting his eyes. “I saw a few of his drawings when we visited Trost on leave last year,” he says, just to say something. 

“Oh…” At a loss for words, Floch anxiously tugs at one of his sleeves. Now that his plan to lift the mood by picking on Jean has been shot, he feels suffocated by the heavy silence between himself and Marco. 

His eyes start to wander, and they land on Eren, who’s chatting up Armin and teasing the blond off to the side. The sounds of their laughter grate on his nerves before long, and he pulls his knees up to his chest to hide his face in them.

On the other side of the fire, Jean smiles softly as he works diligently on his sketch of the flowers that they’d seen on their trip, etching ridges into the leaves on their stems and smudging strokes to perfectly shape their petals. He quite enjoys having Mikasa as an audience — she sits close beside him and watches his every stroke intently, gray eyes following his hands with quiet admiration. Jean is so used to being intimidated by her presence, so he’s pleasantly surprised by how comforting he finds it to be now.

As Jean adds a few more details to his sketch, at this point clearly lost in the process, Mikasa dares to speak; softly, of course. “That’s — it’s really pretty, Jean.” She moves a hand out and delicately traces one of the flowers, recognising it as one of the myriad that were scattered over the hills they crossed. “It looks so… real. How did you remember what they looked like?”

Jean’s smile widens as he watches Mikasa study and admire his work, and his heart flutters in his chest. “I, uh — I stared at them for a while when we stopped to rest halfway up the hill.” He moves a hand to the back of his neck and absently strokes it. “They looked interesting to me, so I guess it just… stuck.”

Eren, having grown bored of teasing his friend relentlessly, turns back to look at Mikasa and Jean and feels a sudden wave of heat flood his body. He’d never given it much thought — too busy enjoying the moment — but even in all the fantasies he’s woven with Jean that involved Mikasa, he never truly appreciated just how beautiful the two of them looked together. 

She and Jean are more opposites than himself and Jean, both of them boys with a rougher edge to their appearance. She is — ethereal. And it makes Jean look older somehow, when he sits with her. More like a man than a boy. 

It isn’t just hot, it’s beautiful. 

He gets up and moves to sit on Jean’s other side, swiping the parchment from him without much ceremony. “Let’s see if you’re full of shit or not, eh?” he teases, and then feels his eyes widen as he rather loses the ability to speak.  

Jean’s heart swells at the look of utter enchantment on Eren’s face — the boy’s eyes look so damn pretty when they shimmer like that. “So what’s the verdict?” he asks with a playful lilt in his voice. “Not that I really have to ask; you’re wearing it on your face.”

Eren turns to look at Jean, the brightness in his wide eyes made even more apparent by the glow of the fire. “Dude, what the hell? How — when the fuck did you have time to learn how to do this shit?” Without waiting for Jean’s reply he jumps up and rushes to Armin. “Armin, look at this! Look!” 

The blond boy had been deeply wrapped up in his own silent musings, so he nearly jumps out of his skin when Eren shouts his name. “Look at wh—”

Eren’s already shoving the piece of parchment in his face, so he backs away from it to get a better view. “Oh wow, these are beautiful,” he sighs as his smile widens. 

“Right? Jean literally just drew them! Like — with his brain!” Eren boasts. He snags the parchment back out of Armin’s hands rather possessively and then turns around with even more energy. “Floch! Floch look at this shit! It literally looks real!” He jumps around the fire to where the redhead sits alongside Marco — who has more than one dark cloud over his head — before shoving the parchment in his face. 

Floch winces at the intensity of Eren’s enthusiasm, doing his best to push the parchment out of his face without tearing it. “Hey, don’t you think you’re bein’ a little loud?” he mutters as he glances over the sketches. “Are you trying to attract wild animals to camp?”

Eren rolls his eyes a little. “Please, what animals? We’ve barely even seen deer around these parts. Just relax a little and look at Jean’s masterpiece,” he grins, granted his voice is somewhat less abrasively loud now. 

“Alright, if it’ll get you to shut up,” Floch says with a laugh, but with Eren standing this close to him, Floch finds it damn near impossible to relax. He takes his time studying the flower sketches so as not to get lost in Eren’s frustratingly pretty eyes, and he has to admit that the drawings are impressively detailed. A small smile spreads across his face, and Jean’s blush deepens when he sees it.

“They’re really good, aren’t they?” Eren says softly, getting lost in admiring the work even upside down. He turns to Marco with a grin and doesn’t really notice the boy’s dark look until it’s a bit too late. “Did you know that Jean could draw, Marco?”

Marco takes his time, rolling the stone he’s been fidgeting with between his fingers as he forces himself to adopt a tone that doesn’t sound like he’s obviously angry. “Yeah, of course I did. Jean is my best friend.” 

Eren whips around to gasp at Jean in a mock-hurt manner. “Your best friend knew you could draw and your boyfriend didn’t? That’s cruel Jean!” 

Jean rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but his smile is easy and charming as ever. “Dude, he’s been my best friend for over two years. You’ve only been my boyfriend for two months.”

Displeased with Jean’s logic but unable to really counter it, Eren crosses his arms and pouts. “Yeah but still… I feel like I should have known that about you…” he grumbles.

“Maybe you would have if you spent more time trying to get to know Jean instead of just trying to get in his pants,” Marco says coolly, staring at the fire.  

Jean’s face falls quickly, his expression twisted by concern and confusion. “Marco, what the fuck?”

Marco flinches a bit at the tone in Jean’s voice and he glances up at the boy, almost instinctively, to meet his puzzled gaze. Eren however just laughs a little, his voice a bit nervous as he picks up on the sudden shift in the night’s mood. 

“Uh — I mean c’mon… it’s Jean , how can you look at the guy and not wanna get in his pants? Can’t be just me here, right?”

Floch curls up to hug his legs again and groans. “Eren, please shut the fuck up…”

“Um —” Armin struggles to ignore the anxious knots that are tightening in his stomach; he keeps his eyes locked on Eren’s to ground himself. “Since we’re on the subject, Eren, what else do you wish you knew about Jean but don’t yet? He’s right there, so you can ask him.”

Eren quickly brightens up at the suggestion and turns to Jean with a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh okay then — let’s see…” He cocks his hip and cups his chin in an exaggerated posture of thoughtfulness before snapping his fingers and grinning. “What… is your favorite food? And this is not like, ration-food. I’m talkin’ the good shit from Trost.”

“Oh, easy enough —”

Jean can see the dish in his mind’s eye, clear as day. He remembers the sweet smile that his mother would give him as she presented him with a plate of warm, fluffy eggs whenever he was having a bad day. But for the life of him, he cannot remember what the dish is called.

“— shit, what’s the word…”

“Omelets, isn’t it?” Marco interjects softly, his gaze sliding coolly over Eren momentarily before settling back on Jean. 

“Yes, that’s it; thanks.” Jean nods at Marco, but his smile is strained — the sharpness of Marco’s glance at Eren makes Jean’s blood run cold.

Eren’s posture slumps as he stares incredulously at Jean. “Omelets? Really? I thought I was dating a posh boy from Trost! Even I’ve had omelets!”

Jean chuckles anxiously to himself, knowing that that couldn’t be further from the truth — but he doesn’t need everyone in this group knowing that much about his humble background. “Hey, sometimes it’s the simple shit that’s most satisfying,” he offers instead with a charming smirk.

“You could be more sensitive too, Eren…” Marco adds, his voice slipping back into that cool tone. “Trost isn’t in the inner city; we weren’t that much better off than you guys.”

Eren’s loose posture stiffens a bit as he turns to look at Marco with confusion — the boy seems rather insistent on finding fault with anything Eren says and it’s starting to become irritating. “Sure. I’ll try .” He barely represses an eyeroll before returning his focus to Jean. “Okay, I’ve got an embarrassing question for you now…” he says craftily, struggling to regain the energy that was shaken by Marco’s comment. 

Jean folds his arms over his chest and frowns at Eren. “If it’s embarrassing, then why the fuck are you about to ask it in front of four other people?”

Eren giggles, attempting to hide it behind his hand, but his eyes are shining too much and betray him easily. “Just ‘cause,” he offers simply. “You don’t have to answer — but I think it’d be real nice if you did. Did you have a special toy or blanket from when you were a baby that you keep?”

“Huh?” Jean’s voice cracks, and Floch can’t help but snicker at that. “Why the hell do you care about something like that? We’re not little kids, man…”

Eren shrugs noncommittally. “It’s not a big deal if you do… I think it’d be cute honestly…”

“I think that’s a rather personal question, Eren. ” Marco snaps. “Do you really think Jean wants to talk about something like that in front of everyone? Have some tact…” He doesn’t quite spit the word out, but it’s a damn close thing, and the look he levels at Eren is enough to make the boy raise his hands up in mock-surrender. 

“Shit, okay — chill out, I said he didn’t have to answer, didn’t I?” Eren backtracks, doing his utmost to avoid the blade-sharp look that the other boy is giving him. 

“Do you just like trying to humiliate him? It’s like you don’t even care what he feels so long as you get what you want — that’s — that’s fucking selfish ,” Marco spits, tossing the stone he was playing with into the fire. 

Eren purses his lips and turns to look at Armin and Mikasa somewhat helplessly. Armin meets Eren’s gaze with panic swimming in his own eyes; he swallows thickly, wringing his fingers together in his lap as he shifts his gaze to Marco. “Hey, I’m sure Eren doesn’t mean to hurt Jean,” he starts softly. “The two of them have always played rough like that, remember?”

Marco stands up suddenly, his hands balled into shaking fists by his sides. “It’s not ‘playing rough’ if Jean actually gets hurt by Eren’s stupid games!” He wheels around to refocus on Eren and his voice is acidic when he spits: “You did the same damn thing when Officer Kirstein came! Trying to humiliate Jean with all your — your insinuations!” 

Jean gasps sharply, and his blood turns to ice in his veins. Eren had very plainly been hinting at his attraction to boys in front of Matis that morning, and Marco sounds so disgusted by that. And worse yet, he’s never seen Marco get this bitterly angry over anything before… It makes Jean sick to his stomach.

“Tch, don’t bring up that cum-stain’s name around me…” Eren mutters, but his ears have turned rather red at the memory of that morning’s stunt. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck uneasily — Marco’s attack feels like it came out of nowhere and he’s more than a bit blindsided by it. “It doesn’t matter — we talked about it, I apologized… sort of…”

Marco’s eyes widen incredulously as he lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Ha! Did you? Or did you just distract Jean with your — whatever the hell you do to him… That’s no way to treat a friend — and even less someone you supposedly love .” 

Floch instinctively shrinks back from Marco; the venom in raven-haired boy’s words makes his heart leap into his throat. Next to Armin, Mikasa shifts uneasily. “Should we step in?” she whispers with a frown, moving to take Armin’s hand into hers nervously. 

Armin squeezes Mikasa’s hand a little harder than he means to, his frown deepening as his thoughts race. “I want to,” Armin whispers back to her, “but I’m afraid Marco might get even more defensive if he feels like the two of us and Eren are ganging up on him.” He looks across the way at Jean, who sits frozen in place, staring at the arguing boys like a frightened baby deer. “Marco would hear Jean out, though,” Armin adds, “so why isn’t he saying anything?”

Mikasa follows Armin’s gaze to make her own observation of Jean, and she bites her lip with a frown at the sight the poor boy makes. Having his best friend and boyfriend argue with so much venom in their words clearly does him no good at all. “I don’t think he can…”

Eren moves to face Marco fully now, his hands planted on his hips to avoid curling them into fists. “Do not…” he hisses, “ever fuckin’ suggest that I don’t love Jean.” He swallows and throws his words into the fire, unable to watch Marco’s face when it burns so much brighter and hotter with a rage he can’t even begin to understand. “I may have a — a fucked up way of showing it sometimes…” he admits, feeling his face turn red. “But damn it, I’m trying to do better!” 

Jean’s heart breaks for Eren when he hears the pain and frustration in his boyfriend’s voice. He’s never been more grateful for Eren’s passion and persistence than he is now. Still, he can’t help feeling pathetic for being so out of sorts that he can’t find the words to back Eren up. But Marco’s unbridled fury really is that disturbing — he almost doesn’t recognize his best friend right now, and it’s making his skin crawl…

“This is you doing better ?” Marco yells with thinly-veiled irritation. He’s hardly in control of his own emotions now — he just feels blind rage at the stupid boy in front of him. 

The stupid idiot boy who’s somehow taken Jean’s heart before Marco even knew he had a chance. It’s so stupidly unfair! It’s fucking agony. And he knows he’s making a fool of himself — he’s not this kind of man. He doesn’t pick on his friends and spit on them and shove them over a bridge with cruel unjustified words. He’s not that kind of man! But damn all three Walls, if Marco doesn’t lash out he will simply crumple in on himself and break down sobbing. “You literally humiliate Jean for fun , Eren, and that’s you doing better? ”

“Dude, what the fuck is your problem tonight?” Eren snaps, finally having had enough of Marco’s bullshit. He doesn’t want to fight Marco — but the boy isn’t really listening to his words, and Eren’s almost always resorted to fists when the former doesn’t work. But Marco is Jean’s best friend and he doesn’t feel like he has that right. 

“You are my fucking problem, Eren!” Marco screams, and it comes out a little panicky. “You and — and everything you’re doing to Jean!” 

Alright, fuck words . Eren crosses the fire in a flash and grabs Marco by his shirt before pushing him up against a tree. “If you have a problem with me, then let’s fuckin’ fix it.”

“Hey!” Floch sees the panic that flashes through Marco’s eyes and jumps to his feet, bounding forward to grab Eren’s wrist with one hand and grip Marco’s forearm with the other. “Calm the fuck down, both of you,” he hisses, and then quickly focuses his worried gaze on Marco. “You… I think you’ve made your point,” he utters with a slight tremor in his voice, and timidly runs his hand down Marco’s arm.

Eren wrenches his wrist from Floch’s grasp and huffs with ill-disguised frustration. He’s a bit grateful for Floch’s intervention though — he never thought he’d lift a hand against Marco of all fucking people. Eren steps back from the boys and pushes a hand through his hair while dragging a deep breath into his lungs. Fuck. He really almost had hit the boy. 

Marco is both extremely relieved for Floch’s intervention (Eren placed second in hand-to-hand combat in their last exam and he did not want to be on the receiving end of those fists), and also incredibly frustrated by it. He uses his free hand to pinch his nose bridge as he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I think we should head back…” he says and finds himself meaning it. “Let’s pack up camp and get the damn horses. I — I can’t do this crap with him.”

“R-right now?” Armin asks meekly, blinking nervously as he stares at Marco. “We’ve been on the move all day, though… shouldn’t we at least try to get some rest?”

Marco turns his green gaze on Armin and he can feel his face morph into something frighteningly dark. “I said… pack up. ” 

Armin’s muscles go rigid, and an embarrassing little squeak escapes his throat. “Al-alright,” he stammers out before he can unscramble his thoughts and formulate a less pathetic response. “Let’s put out the fire, Mikasa…”

Mikasa doesn’t want Armin to completely crumble under that glare that Marco just leveled at him, so she quickly follows his lead to put out the fire, moving to grab the large leather blanket that will help smother it. 

Seeing that his friends are not going to challenge Marco’s order (and not particularly wanting to start another fight), Eren moves over to where Jean is still sitting rather stiff and still, gaze fixed on the ground, and nudges his boyfriend’s boot with his own. “Oi. Come get the horses with me, Jean.” 

“You can do that yourself, Eren,” Marco says flatly, his voice just daring Eren to put up a fight. “I want Jean to help pack the tents.”

Eren takes a deep breath for four counts and nods once. “Whatever you want, squad leader .” He injects as much disdain into the title as possible before continuing to the horses, dragging his hand over Jean’s shoulder in passing. 

That small, comforting gesture gives Jean just enough strength to finally push himself to his feet. His head spins furiously as he staggers over to one of the tents, glancing anxiously at Marco over his shoulder every few seconds. Each time he hopes to find that Marco’s stern glare is replaced by his usual, friendlier countenance and is crushingly dismayed when each time… he doesn’t budge.

A sudden, chilly gust of wind blows by, smelling of rain, and Jean’s entire body shudders.

Fuck, this is bad.

Chapter Text

Thematically, it starts to rain not long after the six cadets pack up their belongings and set out for the main basecamp. The rain is soft at first and then, quickly, it morphs into a torrential downpour. 

The trees are waving like flags in the relentless wind, their branches snapping and breaking with the sheer force of it. The rain itself feels like sharp icy blades as it whips over any exposed skin, quickly finding its way through the kids’ protective hoods and soaking them to the bone. The air is thick with the sounds of wind, rain, and heavy foot-falls from the horses. Yet somehow, it feels paradoxically as quiet as death. 

Marco is shaking badly in his saddle; he blames it on the cold and wet conditions, but a quick glance at Floch by his side tells him that even the smaller boy isn’t reacting as badly to the terrible weather conditions. 

Marco regrets forcing his squad to move out now — he hadn’t known it was going to rain… or well… he hadn’t thought it would be this bad. But he can’t double back now without looking like an absolute idiot. 

He feels bad for how he lashed out, too; it was cruel and childish and Marco knows he’s none of those things! He can hardly believe the voice his memory provides him, can hardly believe his mouth actually said those words. He’ll need to apologize to Eren and Jean properly — but the thought of doing so right now makes him sick to his stomach. He’s dug his grave — he’d better lie in it. 

Marco’s ruminations are interrupted by a sharply uttered curse — to his right, Floch had just slipped in his saddle, but he quickly rights himself. Floch is wearing a very pinched frown, clearly disgruntled by the uncomfortable feeling of his soaked clothes sticking to his skin. That frown deepens, however, when he turns his head and sees the rather sorry physical state that Marco is in. “Are you sick or something?” he asks him, raising his voice so that it carries over the hissing of the rain.

Marco starts, his teeth clashing together when he turns to look at Floch, and he forgets for a moment to control his expression of misery. “What? No — just… I didn’t think the rain would get so bad…”

“Well, it is…” Floch tries to tame down the irritation in his voice but ultimately fails. He takes a deep breath before continuing: “So why haven’t we turned back yet to pitch our tents and wait it out?”

Marco grimaces and turns away from Floch, staring resolutely at the path ahead. “There’s a good spot after the cliff-face — we can set up camp there when we reach it. Turning back now would do us no good anyway; it’s downhill and the horses might slip.” The incline is not so steep as to warrant that kind of precaution, but Marco needs some sort of excuse or else his decision will sound even more pathetic than it already is. He just hopes that his monotone fools Floch into believing him. 

The explanation sounds reasonable enough to Floch, and he’s honestly too tired to try and poke holes in it. “Alright…” he mutters, fiddling with the reins in his hands. “I just… you still look really fuckin’ out of it, Marco. It’s kinda freakin’ me out, if I’m being honest.”

Marco’s numb fingers curl tighter on his reins and he curls in on himself a little, choking back a strangled-sounding whimper that wants to escape his chest. “I’m fine. Just… it’s the rain, it’s gotten in my boots…”

Floch sighs heavily as his gaze shifts toward the ground. “Alright, I get it — we’re on the road, and you’re leading the squad, so you have to pretend to be all put together right now, but… uh…” He reaches under his hood to fiddle with his soaking wet red locks. “When we get to that next campsite… will you be freer to talk?” 

“W-why do you want to talk to me?” Marco meant for that to sound more like he’s annoyed with Floch wanting to poke his nose in places it shouldn’t be — but it ends up sounding more like self-deprecation, and that’s a bit too close to his real feelings. 

The flecks of pained incredulity in Marco’s tone sound all too familiar to Floch; he huffs out a wry chuckle as his face flushes. “Because I get it,” he answers with a slightly trembling voice. “You think I don’t wanna rip Jean a new one the way you almost did to Eren? The two of them are fucking insufferable sometimes; I don’t blame you for getting fed up with them.”

Against his better judgment, and perhaps against his own sense of self-preservation, Marco turns to look at Floch — and he’s shaken to see the same thinly repressed rage and pain in the boy’s eyes that he feels in his own heart. Somehow… in the chaos of the past days and weeks he had forgotten that he had an ally in Floch. 

Ah, perhaps not forgotten … perhaps conveniently ignored.

Floch somehow seemed to simply accept he’d never get Eren, and that scared Marco because it was beginning to look like he might need to do the same for Jean. To give up his chance and simply accept. But he wouldn’t do such a thing. He couldn’t.

“Why don’t you fight for him, Floch?” he dares to ask, urging his horse closer so that he won’t have to scream over the shrieking of the wind.

Floch goes rigid in his saddle, screwing his eyes shut as a burning, pounding headache overcomes him. He has to fight to translate that pain into words that Marco can understand:

“There’s… fuck… there’s nothing to fight for, Marco,” he finally spits out. “He doesn’t feel for me what I feel for him, and he never will. He said as much.”

“Floch…” Marco feels at a loss for what to say. It’s not mere sympathy he feels for the boy — the blade-sharp emotional ache that was evoked by Floch’s words is far too potent for that simple word. 

But it’s not quite empathy either — Marco refuses to empathize when that would mean that he puts himself in Floch’s position… when that would mean giving up on his chance to be with Jean. What he says then, is both brutally honest — yet cleverly avoidant. “How — how do you just go on like that? How do you just… give up?”

That last question stabs Floch through the heart. When he finally remembers to breathe again, it’s slow and labored. His whole body shakes, and he grips his reins so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“...How do you define giving up?”

Marco’s caught utterly off guard by the question and he has to take a minute to really think on it. The answer comes to him when he glances over his shoulder and sees Jean — the boy’s face is sullen and tired, his hand barely shielding his mirthless eyes from the rain. 

Marco turns back quickly to Floch, biting his lip as his brows darken. “When you stop believing you have a chance.”

Jean’s heart stops during that brief moment when he and Marco lock eyes. He’s so on edge that it’s making him sick to his stomach, and the chills that he’s getting from being drenched by the rain aren’t helping matters.

There’s something about Marco’s anger that just isn’t adding up to Jean. He knows his best friend to be someone who never shies away from voicing his opinions, even when they’re rather harsh or uncomfortable. Marco knows how to package those hard truths in ways that are perfectly understandable without making his listener feel like complete shit. It’s what Jean respects and admires most about Marco. 

So if he really felt that Eren was such an awful fucking influence this whole time, then why did he wait this long to say anything about it? Why did he choose instead to suppress it and evade it until he damn near came to blows with Eren after shitting on the boy’s character? He knows Marco isn’t really like this. He can’t be. Because if this dark, abrasive streak is really a part of Marco, then who the hell has he been friends with for the past two years?

Jean wants nothing more than to lie down and sleep so that he can forget this fucking awful night. “How much further till we get where we’re going?” he groggily asks Mikasa.

The girl’s head swivels to him as soon as he starts speaking, but she doesn’t answer right away. “I’m not sure,” she says eventually, chewing her lower lip as she glances forward at Floch and Marco. “It depends where Marco wants us to stop. I would think after the cliffs, since that’s the smoothest terrain and there are a good number of trees we can use for shelter.” She turns back to look at Jean and her face adopts a somewhat concerned look. “Are you cold?”

Jean folds into himself slightly and shrugs. “Isn’t everyone cold?” he huffs a bit too defensively. 

Mikasa pulls her horse up to trot right next to Jean’s and then reaches into her saddle pouch for something which she hands to him. “Here — they might be small, but it should get some feeling back in your fingers.” It’s a pair of soft-gray, woolen gloves. 

Jean stares dumbly at them for a moment as a soothing warmth breaks through the waves of panic that rack his chest. “Oh — th-thanks,” he mutters as he takes them from Mikasa and slides them onto his hands. They are a bit tight, but the wool is pleasantly soft to the touch and slowly warms his freezing fingers.

Mikasa watches him with an unreadable expression for a while, turning her gaze momentarily backwards to where Eren is pouting and Armin is doing his best to fix that, before sighing and steeling her nerves. She rests her horse’s reins over the saddle horn and reaches over the gap between herself and Jean to take his hands into hers, rubbing them a little to quicken the defrosting of his numb digits. “Eren always used to forget to bring gloves — I started to bring a spare pair because of him. Armin’s started to do that too, just in case I wasn’t around,” she says softly, a blush decorating her cheeks.

Jean drinks in the sight of Mikasa’s beautifully bashful expression. The warmth that spreads over his hands pales in comparison to the burning heat of his face — he blushes a deep shade of red. “Wow, uh… you two always take really good care of him, huh?” For the first time in a long while, a small smile appears on Jean’s face.

Mikasa lets out a small giggle, looking up at Jean with a matching soft smile. “I suppose so, yes…” She pauses and blushes a little darker, the movements of her hands slowing slightly so that she’s simply holding Jean’s hands in her own. “But — I think it’s the three of us now looking after him…”

Jean’s eyes widen and his breath gets caught in his throat. 

Yes, he makes it his mission to keep Eren as safe and happy as he can, but he’d never been delusional enough to put himself on the same level as the people who’d been doing that for Eren since he was a child. To hear Mikasa say that… he doesn’t have a name for the feeling, but it makes his heart swell to five times its normal size.

“Right…” Jean’s smile widens, and he gives Mikasa a confident nod. “Hope I’ve made you proud so far.”

She squeezes his hand in answer, her own smile just as radiant despite the pouring rain around them. “You make him very happy, Jean,” she says firmly. Then she turns to glance forward at Marco and Floch, and her smile somewhat falls a little, becoming something more serious, before she returns her gaze to Jean. “And he does love you. Eren doesn’t love easily — but when he does, it is forever.”

Mikasa’s words feel almost too grand to be believed, but Jean knows that she wouldn’t be saying them if they weren’t true. The thought of that kind of love being reserved for him leaves Jean rather speechless. It’s all he can do to stifle his giddy laughter as he shifts his gaze coyly to the side. “Shit… Eren really is something else…”

“That he is…” Mikasa says with a dark blush, recalling aspects of Eren that are entirely inappropriate for the moment. 

Jean thinks he hears a rare hint of amusement lurking underneath Mikasa’s calm tone, and it makes him laugh. “Yeah, I bet you’ve seen a lot of wild shit from him…”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Mikasa starts, a smirk showing up on her normally reserved face. “I think you’ve seen pretty much everything I have…”

“Oh?” Jean honestly hadn’t expected Mikasa to play along like this, and the implications of her last statement are intimidating him… but he’d be lying if he said they aren’t also intriguing him. “So he’s learned quite a lot under your care, then?” he inquires playfully as a mischievous smirk spreads across his face.

Mikasa turns to look at Jean somewhat surprised but not disinterested. She blushes however, shaking her head slightly. “Ah, more or less the opposite. He um… taught me… things.” 

A part of Jean so desperately wants to ask what those things were, but the rest of him refuses to push a lady’s delicate boundaries like that. “I see… that makes two of us, then,” he offers instead with a chuckle and a softer smile.

Mikasa visibly relaxes when she hears the acknowledgment and acceptance in Jean’s voice. She might not be as bold as Eren, but sometimes she wonders if the boy has given her a bit too many of his habits by proxy. Searching for something else to talk about so as not to drive herself into a corner, Mikasa turns her focus back up to Marco and Floch, neither of whom look very happy with the current conditions. “You and Marco are close friends, right?” she starts delicately.

“Uh —” Jean cringes at the sharp pain that seizes his heart when he hears Marco’s name. “Well, yeah, I guess we are… why?”

“Do you know what came over him tonight?” Mikasa prods, hating to poke Jean where she knows he’s sensitive but nevertheless needing to. “I’ve never seen him act like that with Eren… does he — does he talk badly of him with you?”

“No, no he doesn’t,” Jean quickly answers with a shake of his head. “In fact, when it’s just the two of us he doesn’t talk about Eren at all. And then he sees us together and it’s like he can’t wait to get the fuck out of the room…” Jean’s voice grows harsher, his fists trembling as he clenches them tighter. “It’s like he has to strain to treat the kid with decency. And I guess tonight he couldn’t be fucking bothered to keep up the act. And the worst part is —” Jean struggles to breathe through a wave of nausea that crashes over him. “He only started actin’ like this the moment that Eren and I announced our relationship to everyone. He learned I’m gay and he fuckin’... he turned on me…” 

“Jean…” Mikasa’s brows pinch together as she looks at Jean, feeling almost as though her heart is shattering sympathetically from the rawness of his pain. “Marco would never turn on you for being gay… because, Jean… he’s gay too.”

Jean head snaps up quick as a whip, aiming a disbelieving stare at Mikasa. “What?”

Mikasa simply nods. “I don’t know why he hates Eren so much all of a sudden, but I think he’s just worried that he won’t be your closest friend anymore because Eren… well… Eren took his place.”

“...Huh?”

Jean damn near melts his brain trying to make that revelation make sense to him. Marco had never once expressed interest in other guys like that. The two of them had always talked about the girls in the corps that they thought were cute, dreamed about the fine wives that they’d find themselves in the Interior. If Marco really is gay (and that has to be true because again, why would Mikasa lie to him), then Jean is shocked that Marco could hide it so well. Was he faking his interest in women this whole time? Or is he like me and he’s into both?

But more importantly — if Marco is gay, then that most likely means he’s not homophobic. Mikasa seems to think he’s just upset about being replaced as Jean’s best friend… but that doesn’t make any sense, because he’s clearly never moved Marco from that spot. Eren is more than a best friend — he’s something entirely different. So what the hell does Marco even feel so threatened by?

…Oh, no fucking way —

The obvious answer knocks the wind out of Jean for a moment. But the harder he thinks about, the less he can seriously consider it. Marco had been so relaxed with him since the beginning — he’d never made any passes at him, never made any suggestive comments, never looked at him or touched him in ways that suggested anything more than friendship. And they’d been perfectly fine like that — for years. If Marco really had a crush, then surely he would know by now… right?

Jean rubs his forehead to stave off an oncoming headache. “That’s it? That’s… really his whole issue?”

Mikasa wishes for a moment that she had a better ability to read into people’s words like Armin can. She thinks Jean sounds shocked, but there’s also something of a disappointed and hurt quality to that shock. Regardless, she shrugs, wiping the rain from her face. “I guess so. People — some people can get irrational when they feel their position is threatened. It’s jealousy I think.” 

She adds ‘I think’ because outside of witnessing the passionate rage of jealousy, she hasn’t got much experience with it. How could she be jealous when Eren was never hers alone? She never wanted him to be hers; she only ever wanted him safe. Now that she thinks on it — perhaps her jealousy manifested differently… protectiveness and possessiveness. She was like that with both her boys. Armin’s jealousy never showed its face with the same colors as Marco’s just did — his own jealousy turned into insecurity really. And Eren…

Mikasa has only ever seen him get jealous once: with Matis. Even then his jealousy was mostly expressed with childish whimsy in order to snag Jean’s attention. Was it so impossible then, to imagine that Marco’s childish outburst stemmed from any of the three forms of jealousy? Perhaps he was possessive over Jean, perhaps he was insecure, and perhaps he just wanted Jean’s attention for himself. 

“Yes, I’m certain he’s jealous. I’m just not sure why.”

Jean’s chest tightens, stopping him from fully taking in his next breath. He’s not sure that he can handle Marco’s reason for doing all of this… but he also knows that he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t hear it soon. He just needs to find the right time to sit Marco down and get him to level with Jean. He sincerely hopes that such a time comes soon.

“That’s alright,” Jean says softly to Mikasa, smiling warmly at her. “You’ve cleared up plenty already. Thanks for that.”

As the group makes their slow and perilous way to the cliff-pass, the trail gets narrower and forces them into single file. The rain has made the rocks and mud even more dangerous than usual and the horses’ hooves make frightening slips as they inch their way up the rocks. To one side a large rock-face stands up tall, the jagged sides looming over the kids with threatening roots dangling overhead. To the other side, a steep slope of mud and rocks leads right down to an overflowing river. 

To say that the trail is perilous now feels like an understatement. Eren is cold, drenched in rain, still rather pissed off at Marco and now considerably worried for Armin’s safety. He’s not too worried about the others; they have a bit more meat on their frames and Mikasa hasn’t gotten seriously sick since she was ten. 

Armin however… he’s shaking so badly that he has to clutch his saddle horn to keep himself upright. His sopping wet hair is plastered to his ghostly-pale face, and his gritted teeth are visibly chattering. Eren doesn’t think the boy will last much longer in these conditions. The wind makes it impossible to speak normally so he turns around and almost shouts to be heard. “Armin! Do you think we should stop and wait for the rain to die down?”

“I — I think —” Armin’s response is cut off by a quick string of high-pitched coughs. “Yes, I think we should stop soon; the road is getting much too slippery…” As if on cue, Armin’s horse stumbles again, and he yelps as his body jostles and sways in his saddle.

“Oi! Careful!” Eren feels his heart launch into his throat and at once he wants nothing more than to pick Armin off his horse and settle the boy in front of himself to keep him from falling off. He’s also nearly bowled over by the sudden urge to deck Marco in the face for pushing them into this ill-timed trek in the first place. He can’t do either from their single-file line and has to settle for gritting his teeth and watching Armin with the kind of worry that eats at his stomach. “I’ll try and ask Mikasa to pass the word along!” he adds as a second thought, turning to where Mikasa paces on her horse some two meters in front of him. 

A sudden gust of wind, much stronger than any before it, steals the words right out of Eren’s mouth and his hood nearly flies right off his head. Somewhere between him and Mikasa a branch breaks off and Eren’s horse rears up in fear, forcing Eren to grapple with the reins as he pushes his heels down to stay mounted. 

Armin’s horse reacts in kind, tossing up its head and whinnying as it staggers backwards. Armin frantically tugs at his reins, trying to calm the animal, but his own panic only frightens it further.

Suddenly, thunder booms loudly enough to shake the earth, and Armin’s horse rears up high, launching Armin off the saddle. His trembling, slippery hands lose their grip on the leather reins, and Armin screams as he flies through the air before tumbling roughly down the cliffside. 

“ Armin! ” Eren doesn’t even hesitate before pushing himself off his saddle and following Armin straight down the muddy slope, failing to remain on his feet as his boots lose traction and he falls backwards slipping down the hill. 

The noise alerts Mikasa but she doesn’t even have the chance to react when Marco’s voice breaks through the torrential downpour and wind, loud as a cymbal. “Don’t Mikasa!”

Jean turns in his saddle, following Mikasa’s gaze until he sees the two boys hurtling towards the river below them, and his stomach drops. “Eren!” he shouts, his voice high-pitched and strained. “Fuck — Marco, we’ll lose ‘em!”

“We can’t risk it, Jean!” Marco sounds equally panicked and he turns in his saddle to watch the other two boys tumble down with growing fear in his wide eyes. “The horses can’t make it down that slope and we’ll have no way of getting them back up!” He throws a hand up into his wet hair and curses. 

“Then we’ll go back downriver!” Mikasa yells. “Jean, grab my horse — I’m going to ride Eren’s and lead Armin’s down!” Mikasa jumps off, not even needing to wait and see if Jean will listen. 

Jean grabs her horse’s reins without hesitation; his heart rate calms down significantly now that Mikasa has set something in motion to rescue their boys. “You heard her,” he yells at Marco, “let’s move!”

Marco sits frozen in his saddle for a moment too long, staring at where Armin has plunged into the cold river, and he feels guilt and horror settle into his stomach like poison. He’s jolted out of his stupor by another shrill, shouting voice:

“Hey! Downriver, Marco!” Floch repeatedly waves his arm forward, glaring daggers at the boy. “We don’t have time; we’re losing sight of them!”

Floch’s voice snaps Marco back into action and he grits his teeth. He fucked up pretty badly tonight; the least he can do is not let their friends fucking drown . He kicks his horse forward and sets a faster pace despite the dangerous slippery path. “If we head forward for a bit longer the ground will level down and we can turn back to follow them. We’ve gotta trust that Eren will be able to rescue Armin. We have no other choice!” 

“Alright!” Floch kicks his horse and follows quickly behind Marco. “Let’s not keep him waiting!”

Chapter Text

From the corner of his eye, Eren can see his other friends trotting down the path faster and it settles one terrified part of him — rescuing Armin would be much harder if literally everyone started slipping and sliding down the hill. 

The rest of his focus is on snagging one of the roots sticking out of the ground to slow his fall before he slips into the river with Armin. He just barely saw the blond boy fall into the river a moment before and now it’s all he can do to remind himself that it wouldn’t help to jump headfirst into the rapid stream to try and rescue him. He instead rushes up to his feet and races down the riverbank to try and catch up with Armin. 

He can see the boy’s head bobbing up and down in the water and he’s sick with fear at the sight. Armin’s not a bad swimmer — but he’s tired, it’s been raining nonstop — and the boy is probably exhausted . 

Fuck, don’t drown Armin! Don’t you dare fucking drown on me!  

Eren pushes himself faster, needing to get ahead of Armin so he can snag the boy out of the stream. He runs until he reaches a few large rocks that span the river and bounds over them to the other side, toward which Armin is steadily drifting. He’s shouting out too, hoping that between the roaring of the rapids and the thunderous howling of the wind and rain, Armin might hear his voice and know he’s nearby. 

“Hold on! I’m coming, Armin! Just fuck — hold on! ” 

The river rushes so loudly that Armin can barely hear Eren’s voice over the deafening roaring and hissing. But he knows that Eren must be somewhere nearby if he can hear him at all. Armin’s lungs and muscles are burning, but he wills himself to keep kicking, keep pushing — if he can just keep his head above the water for one more moment —

Right when Armin feels his freezing, exhausted limbs start to give out on him, two strong hands latch onto his body and drag him roughly out of the river. He hits the ground with a wet thud, coughing muddy water out of his lungs before he can take his first decent breath in what feels like forever. When he opens his eyes, he finds Eren staring down at him with an expression of relief so vivid it’s nearly painful.

“Armin, can you breathe?” Eren asks in a rush, rolling Armin onto his side to thump his back and try to get the river water out of him. 

Armin curls into himself; in between coughs that shake his whole body, he draws in shaky, gasping breaths. “Y-yes,” he stammers weakly, “I… I’m… Sina…” He covers his face with both hands, sniffling into them as tears mix with the river water that streams down his face.

Armin’s voice is the last bit of reassurance Eren needs to let go of that heart-crushing terror. He moves to envelop the boy in a tight hug, probably making it harder for Armin to catch his breath, but he desperately needs the reassurance that the boy is safe. “You’re fine… fuck… you’re fine, Minnie. I got you.”

Armin buries his face in Eren’s chest, tightly clutching the boy’s shirtfront as he sobs loudly into it. “I’m sorry, Eren! I’m so sorry! I — are you hurt? You shouldn’t have jumped down the cliff like that! Where are —”

“Armin!” Eren doesn’t expect his voice to come out with a laugh but it does, and perhaps it’s just the leftover adrenaline or something else entirely… but he cups Armin’s face and… and… 

Sina, he almost kisses Armin —

It takes considerable self-control for Eren to instead simply close his eyes and gather his wits back before urging Armin to look at him. “We’re fine. Everyone will be fine. We need to focus on getting you somewhere dry before you seriously get sick.” 

“Mm… y-you’re right…” Armin labors to push himself upright — he’s worried Eren and the others more than enough with his clumsiness tonight, so he needs to show Eren that he’s at least got enough strength to get to his feet on his own. He ignores the persistent trembling of his legs, panting rapidly as he hugs himself in a vain attempt to warm his painfully frigid body.

Eren watches the blond struggle to his legs from his position on the ground, and only once he’s assured that Armin can stand, does he stand himself. He easily wraps one arm around Armin’s waist while slinging one of the boy’s arms over his shoulders, supporting his weight.

“Do you know if there’s a good cave system near here? Or at least a spot where the cliff kinda covers us from the rain? I’ve only got my sleeping mat with me here, the tent supplies are on the horses — oh ugh, and yours are probably soaked.” 

Armin’s grip on Eren’s shoulder tightens; he makes himself take a slow, deep breath to keep from panicking. “I don’t even have my maps on me…”

But he did spend hours today copying the lay of the land three times over. Armin shuts his eyes and tries to visualize it…

“Wait — I think there should be a few caves nearby,” he utters hesitantly. “We’d have to go a little bit further downstream, though, and into the forest…”

“Right — okay, hold on.” Eren adjusts his grip on Armin and starts walking them towards the forest edge down the river. He can feel Armin shivering in his arms and knows that it’s only a matter of time before those shivers become far worse. 

He picks up his pace a little, almost dragging the blond with him, until they are able to get under the first few trees where the wind isn’t quite as strong and the rain doesn’t sting as painfully. 

But, while Eren’s generally good with directions, he’s not sure where to go from here — he hadn’t been paying as much attention to their surroundings at this point in their journey and has to struggle to remember where the cliff-faces were. “Uh — which way, Armin?”

“We just entered the forest… s-so we should be facing — facing the west…” The caves are a little northwest of here, Armin notes from his mental image of the map. He weakly nudges Eren towards the right, stumbling a bit when his shuddering legs nearly give out from under him. “This way,” he whispers after catching his breath. “And f-forward.”

Eren grits his teeth, worry gnawing at him like a persistent dog, and he shuffles them in the direction Armin pointed out. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before the looming gray cliffs start to poke out from the trees, and it takes less time for Eren to spot the multitude of caves and hollows within the cliff-faces. 

He goes for the first one that looks big enough to fit them while being small enough to actually provide some shelter. The wind is almost instantly cut off the moment they enter the dark alcove, and the rain is thankfully absent as well. Eren gently guides Armin down to the floor and pulls off his backpack, setting it down as well before moving to unburden his friend. 

“How’re you feeling — can you still wiggle your toes and fingers?” he asks, only half-joking. 

After crumpling to the ground, Armin stretches his arms out in front of himself and slowly flexes his fingers a few times. “Yeah, I’m good,” he mutters, and he pushes the hood of his cloak off his head. “Now that w-we have shelter I should… I should dry off soon…”

Eren tosses off his own cloak, setting it dry side up on the ground as a makeshift blanket for Armin to sit on. He looks at the blond and gives him a cheeky smile. “You remember basic training Armin; c’mon no time to be shy — strip it all off!” 

Armin cringes and blushes at Eren’s phrasing, his fingers fumbling with the fabric of the cloak as he sheds it. “Wh-why do you insist on making this weird, Eren?”

“Weird?” Eren parrots, but his grin doesn’t quite leave his face. He’s removing his boots and emptying them of the water that somehow managed to slip inside, but his mind feels just a little frazzled by the implication Armin made. “C’mon it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, ‘Min…” he teases. “D’ya want me to strip too so we’re even?”

“Eren, be serious!” Armin shouts a little too loudly; his blush spreads over his whole face now, further betraying his flustered emotional state. Armin makes quick work of throwing off his jacket and shirt, before Eren’s teasing can rob him of all his nerve. 

Eren can’t quite stop his giggling, even as he feels a very different kind of feeling bubble up in his stomach. He forces himself to turn away and focus on opening up his backpack, seeking out the rough blankets that are standard-issue for trips like these. They aren’t particularly soft, but they’re warm. He sets them aside for the moment before digging in deeper to see if he has any flint and steel and tinder to start a fire. 

“Damn it — I don’t have any tinder. Used it for the fire last night. Ugh, and yours is definitely soaked.” He gets up and starts taking off his shirt; the wet cloth is luckily not as soaked as Armin’s clothes, but it is still uncomfortably damp. 

Armin frowns as he tugs his boots off. “So we only have th-those blankets for warmth? And…” The words get trapped in Armin’s throat; he swallows them as his eyes trace the contours of Eren’s exposed chest and abdomen… Walls, sometimes it frustrates him how effortlessly attractive Eren can be.

Eren turns around at Armin’s cut-off sentence, worried that the boy is too cold to talk properly. He sees instead that Armin is focusing very intently on a certain spot on the ground and that his face is a very dark red. 

The boy is also shirtless, and his pretty pink nipples are hard from the cold. 

That bubbling sensation returns in full force and Eren feels almost bad for how suddenly he wants to help Armin get fully undressed. He knows himself well enough to admit that it’s not an altruistic motive at all. 

Tentatively, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers — they’re wet too and it would be beneficial if no wet clothes were present under the dry blankets; that would rather defeat the purpose of getting them both dry and warm. 

“Uh — Armin?” Eren hates that his voice sounds a little breathy. “Would you — is it okay if I take off my pants?”

Armin gasps sharply; the sound of his name jolts him from his daze. “Oh — um — uh… y-yes, that’s fine,” he stutters, butterflies swarming his stomach. “They’re soaked, right? So… you shouldn’t keep them on…”

It’s the reasonable thing to say in a situation like this, but Armin’s heart still races as the words leave his lips. He shifts his gaze back to the ground and timidly reaches for his belt to unclasp it. “I’ll do the same…”

“Yeah — okay, um… good.” Eren presses down and lets his pants slip to the cold stone under his feet — his underwear is mostly dry, but he’s not quite sure he should take those off. 

There’s a part of him that he’s been ignoring that is currently shaking with fear. It’s not even been two weeks since that rather heated night where he shared a bed with Armin — and yet the memory burns hot in Eren’s stomach. 

He hadn’t told Jean, obviously. For starters, he didn’t need his boyfriend getting a bigger ego than he already has — telling Jean that he basically boasted about his attempt at fingering Eren felt like a sure-fire way of getting that boy right back up on his high horse. But perhaps the more damning reason is that — Eren was aroused that night. He was aroused and very nearly did something about that with Armin.

And however kind and understanding Jean has been with Eren’s strange relationships to Mikasa and Armin, there’s a line somewhere — and Eren’s rather afraid that he crossed it, or at least toed it, that night. 

The same nervous energy and strange mix of guilt and excitement is stirring in Eren’s stomach right now, twisting his guts into knots and lodging something in his throat that makes it very hard to speak. But he’s gotta try — silence is more damning than whatever words he might spit out. “Get under the blankets as soon as you’re undressed and um… maybe take off your underwear — yours are probably soaked through.”

Armin’s heart skips a beat, and he momentarily forgets to finish sliding his pants off his legs. Eren has a point, he knows that, but there is so much anxious, electric energy rushing through his body that he’s terrified to expose what it’s doing to him...

His throat is too dry for him to trust that his voice will carry, so Armin nods at Eren instead before crawling over to the blankets and wrapping one fully around his body. Only then does he carefully slide his underwear off and toss it to the side, hugging his knees to his chest as his body trembles worse than before.

Eren takes far too much time laying out his clothes on the ground, and then takes even more time moving to grab Armin’s clothes and twisting the water out of them in a corner. He’s very quiet and he feels like it’s very noticeable. 

He pulls in a shaky breath and lays Armin’s clothes flat on the ground as well. “Well… they’re probably not gonna get dry. But at least they can’t get any more wet.” 

Armin laughs softly, just to fill the crackling void of silence in the cave with something. It’s never a good sign when Eren runs out of words — that usually means the boy is thinking very risky thoughts. And Armin is in no state to entertain such thoughts while he’s saddled with his own dangerous imaginings. 

The blanket’s rough fabric scratches at his skin as he pulls it even tighter around himself, and he wants nothing more than for Eren to quit messing with their clothes already and get under the blanket with him. He knows his skin will feel so much softer and warmer pressed up against his own… 

Sina, the longer he looks at Eren, the more Armin wants to run his hands all over the boy’s body. The mere effort of suppressing those desires makes him dizzy. He shuts his eyes and focuses on breathing — in and out, slowly. He needs to be calm once Eren comes closer, so he doesn’t do or say anything that he’ll regret later. No matter how damn tempting it is now.

Eren sighs, noticing in a strangely distant way that his hands are shaking a little. He dismisses it as a result of being fucking cold and almost fully naked. It takes considerable effort to take those four steps up to where Armin sits shivering under the blankets. And even then, he feels nervous to go under the blanket — to feel Armin’s bare skin icy cold against where he feels like he’s burning up. So he makes a compromise and sits behind Armin: legs bracketing the boy, squeezing his chest up flush against Armin’s back while wrapping his arms tight around the boy’s arms and chest, and finally, burying his nose into the wet blond hair. “Is — is this okay?”

“Mhm.” Armin leans back into Eren’s embrace, smiling and sighing contentedly as the blanket warms between their bodies. It’s so nice and comforting, but Armin has to admit that this is not the move he’d expected Eren to make. 

He’s used to being the one who has to steer Eren away from making inappropriate advances, and here he is, clearly hoping for his friend to toe that line more than Eren even wants to. It all feels concerningly backwards.

Armin has to put his mind on something else, and fast. He knows that Eren can’t see it, but he still pulls the blanket up to hide the darkening blush on his face. “I… I never properly thanked you for saving me earlier,” he starts softly. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come after me…”

Eren huffs a warm laugh into Armin’s hair, his arms squeezing the boy tighter somehow. “Nothing would have happened — I’d have saved you no matter what universe your mind is thinkin’ up.” He cringes a little at his phrasing, but he can’t quite fully blame himself for being so damn loose-lipped. He’s tired and frankly… emotionally spent. He just wants to hold Armin and maybe… 

Sina, his imagination is getting the better of him, because for a moment, he had seen his hand (in his mind’s eye) reach under the blankets to hold Armin around his naked waist. 

Eren shivers, but he’s not cold.

Armin’s smile widens under the blanket, and he only half-successfully stifles his giddy laughter. “You’re being ridiculous,” he replies, even though he knows Eren’s being completely serious. It makes his heart swell, knowing that he’s always safe and cared for whenever Eren’s around. He tilts his head back to gently nuzzle Eren’s face.

In response… Eren has a fucking heart-attack. Well, the sharp, squeezing ache in his chest can’t really be explained in any other way so he has to call it that. His hands curl a little into the blanket, instinctively seeking the touch of warm skin where there’s only the rough scratch of wool. 

He wants Armin. Fuck, how much he’s wanted the boy for years now. He’s restrained himself for so long — wanting Armin to know that he’s special to Eren, not just another person to fuck and forget, and not someone whose intimacy is a tool of comfort like it is with Mikasa. 

When he and Mikasa had sex it was for mutual pleasure — another form of intimacy, sure, but there was a line drawn somewhere which allowed Eren to feel no issue in fucking half of the 104th while occasionally entertaining her. But for Armin… he couldn’t bring himself to do the same thing. Armin is so damn precious and — well, cliche as it is — pure. Eren didn’t want to overwhelm him and didn’t want to show the uglier side of himself to Armin either. 

But fuck if he cares about that right now. Armin had only grown more and more beautiful with time and Eren’s been holding back for so fucking long…

Damn it all — for the first time in almost two months, Eren feels pissed at the fact that he’s exclusive with Jean. He loves that horse-faced bastard to hell and back — but right now his mere existence as Eren’s boyfriend means that Eren has to put a tap on the ravenous desire in his gut, and it’s fucking agony to do.

“So — Marco really went off on me tonight, huh?” Eren hears his voice crack and he blushes in his determination to ignore it.

Armin notices, and his heart sinks at the implication that Marco’s vicious words had made Eren that upset and anxious. “Yeah, that was totally uncalled for,” he says, and he slips one hand out from under the blanket to slowly stroke Eren’s arm. “I don’t think you should take any of what he said personally. It came from a place of hurt, and not from a place of real knowledge.”

Eren sucks in a breath at the casual contact — he’s so intensely focused on not reacting that he misses almost half of what Armin is saying… but this is Armin and he’s rather predictable in that he’ll always stick to Eren’s side, so he’s isn’t too lost in the conversation. 

He moves his arm, catching Armin’s underneath his hand and pressing both of their joined fingers over Armin’s chest. “What d’you think’s got his pants in a twist?” Eren muses, doing his best to focus on the grounding sensation of Armin’s body so tightly pressed against his and not the arousing aspect of that same sensation. 

Armin prays that Eren doesn’t notice the stuttering rise and fall of his chest under their joined hands as he suddenly struggles to breathe properly. A loud, intrusive voice in the back of his head is screaming at him to pull Eren’s hand up to his lips and kiss it, and it takes damn near all of his concentration to shut it up.

“Well… nothing else makes sense to me except jealousy,” Armin answers after a pause that he hopes wasn’t too long. “I’ve noticed that he’s always seemed bothered by your relationship with Jean, but I don’t think it’s because he hates either of you. I think…” Armin shakes his head, doubting his conclusion for a brief moment, but it’s the only thing that makes sense, so he pushes himself to continue. “I think Marco likes Jean as more than a friend. And he’s upset that you got to Jean first.”

Eren hums agreeingly, distracted by the faintest beating under his hand — it feels like Armin’s heart. He shakes his head, determined to not give in to the sudden avalanche of desire that nearly sweeps him off his feet. 

This is just Armin — they’ve cuddled before. Hell, they’ve seen each other naked more times than Eren can count. So this shouldn’t be half as arousing as it is. But it is, and Eren’s starting to worry that he won’t be able to force his blood to reverse back to his head. 

“Well — uh… he should’ve just been faster then. If he wanted Jean so bad. I’ve got him now — he’s — he’s my boyfriend.” Eren says it as a reminder for himself. And it helps, a little. It also makes him horny so it’s not all that effective. 

“That’s fair; what’s done is done, right?” Armin’s voice has gotten breathier, and so has his sweet but still anxious laughter. He can tell that Eren is preoccupied by something other than the drama from earlier in the night; but he’s terrified to ask about it — 

— because he feels like he already knows what it is. 

And Armin doesn’t trust himself to face Eren’s lust responsibly while his own pent-up desires are burning every inch of his skin.

Armin tightens his grip on Eren’s forearm, purposefully stroking the boy’s wrist with his thumb. “Marco won’t be this angry about it forever, I’m sure. You’ve probably faced the worst of it today.”

It’s that damn little touch that does Eren in. He feels himself getting hard — really frighteningly quickly. He pulls away from Armin’s touch as though he’d been burned, gasping out as he struggles to his feet. “Ah — uh… hold on I — shit, I gotta pee…” 

It’s probably a very lame excuse, especially since now he has to either go outside into the rain for a time that seems suitable for taking a leak, or he has to literally do it in the cave… or of course, he could always just admit that he lied and has a very hard, very noticeable boner in his underwear.

He’s behind Armin, not even in the boy’s direct line of sight, yet he still turns around, not intending on giving himself away. “Fuck — maybe I’ll just wear your hood…”

Armin doesn’t think it’s the greatest idea for Eren to go back out into the freezing rain — especially since he has a suspicion that Eren doesn’t actually have to go — but Sina, he wishes that Eren did… 

What he wouldn’t give for the courage to sweet talk Eren into staying put, to touch and kiss and tease the boy all over his gorgeous body until he’s nice and relaxed, to thumb away the tears of humiliation in Eren’s eyes right before he grabs the boy’s dick and aims a hot, hissing stream of piss right onto his waiting thighs —

A sharp jolt of arousal strikes Armin’s gut, and he has to cut his fantasy off right there to keep from moaning out loud. “Just please don’t take too long,” he says in a hurry, his panicked tone tinged with the desperation that he no longer has the strength to fully disguise.

Well, now he has truly fucked himself nicely into a corner, Eren thinks. He literally has no choice at this point, and as he takes a look outside into the pouring rain and the cold-looking wind that sways the trees, he thinks it’s a rather fitting punishment. 

He briefly considers wearing Armin’s cloak to keep the worst of the rain away from his bare skin, but the damn thing is so soaked through it would be pointless. So he does the next best thing and wanders to the edge of the cave, not quite outside, but not quite inside either.

Then he comes to the humiliating realization that he’s going to have to pretend to pee because he’s hard and doesn’t actually need to go. It’s so fucking embarrassing and debasing that Eren can’t help himself. He starts laughing.

Armin’s heart flutters at the adorable sound of it, and it pretty much confirms his suspicions. Either Eren’s bladder is empty, or… or —

No. No, Armin can’t allow himself to picture that or he will melt into the ground where he sits. He whimpers into the blanket, hoping that the thick wool sufficiently muffles his voice, and his hips squirm as the dangerous warmth in his groin wells up further.

Dammit… maybe if I just keep us talking then I can get my mind off these indecent thoughts…

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Armin asks, his own voice shaken by faint giggling.

Eren gives up on his attempt to fake-pee and leans against the cave wall, burying his face in one hand as he snorts helplessly. “Dude I just —” Eren groans and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I just tried to… fuck, I’m embarrassed.”

Armin feels awful about it, but he can no longer hold back a hearty bout of laughter. “Don’t worry about it, Eren! You know I’m not judging!” He gives Eren a bright, toothy grin that quickly turns smaller and shyer, and his blush deepens as he plays with the ends of his still-damp hair. “You — you can come back now, it’s okay. Please?”

Armin’s small, shy, fucking adorable plea makes Eren drop his hand almost instantly — the need to see Armin’s lips making that word is an urge impossible to resist. And it’s every bit as pretty as Eren feared. 

He moves instinctively towards the boy, unable and frankly uncaring to hide his somewhat tented underwear. He’s far too zeroed-in on Armin’s mouth. He sits in front of the boy, plopping down on crossed legs and shoving his hands in front of his crotch to at least pretend to have some modesty. “Why the hell do you gotta be so damn cute, Armin?” he asks breathily. 

Eren’s face is making an expression between adoration and very vivid lust and it is far too beautifully inviting. The low, easy tone of his voice puts a whole new swarm of butterflies in Armin’s stomach. His mouth hangs open dumbly for a moment as he stares at Eren with wide eyes. “I — I’m not — I wasn’t trying — Eren…” He gives up on trying to form a complete sentence and burrows his reddening face back into the blanket.

Eren shakes his head, laughing softly but incredulously. “See there you go again — being so fuckin’ cute…” He feels his hands come up and cup Armin’s face and this time — it’s not in his head.

He’s holding Armin’s face, holding it in both his hands, and he’s drawing nearer to it. He’s close enough that he has to go a little cross-eyed just to keep those baby-blues in his vision. He swallows. 

I want to kiss him… I really really want to kiss him…

His lips part helplessly but the words he wants to say get stuck in his throat, so all that comes out is a pained, soft gasp. He bends down and folds slightly, bracing his head on Armin’s chest as his hands fall from the soft cheeks. “ Fuck , Armin…” 

“Eren?” The name falls from Armin’s lips as a high-pitched, broken whisper, throttled by the shivering of his body. His breathing becomes shallow and stuttering, and his heart threatens to pound out of his chest. The need that drips from Eren’s voice, the admiration that guides Eren’s every touch — it’s all unmistakeable now, and Armin feels so overwhelmed that it’s all he can do to keep himself sitting upright.

Slowly, Armin pulls one of his arms out from under the blanket again, and he gingerly places his hand on Eren’s shoulder, slowly and gently rubbing it in circles. “Eren, what’s going on?”

“Can’t you tell?” Eren groans, his hands moving to clutch at Armin’s blanket. He lifts his face up, pinkened as it is, to try and meet the boy’s eyes — but he simply can’t. He wants to kiss Armin so bad that it’s starting to hurt to not do so. “I’m — damn it Armin! I’m trying so fucking hard right now not to…”

…

“Not to…?” Armin imagines a dozen different ways that that sentence could have ended, and they all make him hot from head to toe. The huskiness in Eren’s voice tells him that the boy is running dangerously low on willpower. He too is growing so weary from resisting temptation that he can’t suppress the tellingly lewd moan that escapes his throat. Both of them are far too close to the edge of the cliff, and Armin knows that only one of them has the strength right now to pull them both back.

Armin takes a deep, shaky breath before moving his hand to Eren’s chest and slowly but firmly pushing him back. He swallows as he bores holes into the ground with his gaze. It pains him to put even this little bit of distance between their bodies…

Eren’s not surprised that Armin pushed him back — but it fills him with such a bitter-tasting disappointment that he can’t help the pained whimper that slips out. He curls his legs up and hugs his knees close to his chest, resting his nose on top of them. At least his erection isn’t on full display. 

“M’sorry…” he mumbles into his legs, refusing to look up. 

Armin opens his mouth to respond but stops himself before any words can come out. He was about to excuse the incident, because that’s what he tends to do with Eren instinctively… But no, it’s not fine, because Eren has a boyfriend to whom he promised exclusivity, and Armin knows this, so what the hell was he thinking coaxing Eren back into his space like that? Like he wasn’t looking for more sweet touches and sweet words from a completely taken man?

Armin wants to tell himself that he’s better than this, that he’s stronger than this, that he has far more integrity than this… but the truth is that he’s struggling so hard to relax around Eren because they’re finally alone. Away from all prying, judging, threatening eyes. No one ever has to know what happens between him and Eren here, and that reality is thoroughly wearing down his resolve. 

Sina, Rose, and Maria, he wants nothing more than to taste Eren’s lips as he sweetly caresses them with his own. In his own mind and heart, what Eren had just done was more than fine.

“You… you don’t have to apologize,” Armin whispers with a wry chuckle. “I almost gave in, too, so you’re not the only one at fault.”

Eren’s eyes widen with surprise as he glances up at Armin’s face. He feels himself blush, but it’s more a comfortable warmth than anything painfully shameful or embarrassing. He chuckles and nudges his foot closer to Armin’s, playfully poking the boy’s ankle with his toe. “I seriously don’t get how people just — choose one person to love. It’s kinda dumb if you already love more than one, right?”

The childish gesture makes Armin laugh in earnest. “Yes, I have to agree with you there,” he admits with a small, timid smile. Oh, what he wouldn’t give so that Jean could understand that, too…

Somewhat daringly, Eren hooks his foot behind Armin’s ankle and draws out the other boy’s foot — just a little of course… just enough so that he can see the dainty curve of the bone’s protrusion. He’s always found Armin’s ankles so delicate and pretty and really what’s the harm?

“See, if you agree then it’s gotta be true.” Eren moves his foot again, setting it side by side against Armin’s and finding the stark difference in their skin colors rather pretty too. “Jean knows that I love you — I’ve told him that like about as often as I’ve told him the same,” he continues. “So really…” Eren glances up and his voice isn’t quite as teasing or lighthearted anymore. “Really it shouldn’t be — a problem…”

 Armin’s breath hitches sharply; he gets sucked in by the intensity of Eren’s pointed look. “Wait — you can’t mean —”

But he does, Armin realizes way too late. His mouth runs dry and bright-hot sparks of barely repressed lust flit over every inch of his skin. “Eren, we can’t — you — you promised him…” His voice feels pathetically small; too soft, too breathy. “He and the others could find us here at any moment. It’s… too risky…”

Eren can’t really help himself anymore. He really can’t. In one smooth move he pushes Armin down to the ground and hovers over the boy on all fours. “It’ll only be riskier everywhere else at any other time, Armin —” he says softly. Then he shuts his eyes and grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to scare Armin away or make a mistake that he will deeply regret; hurting Armin in any way. 

He opens his eyes and hopes that his desperation isn’t too obvious. “Tell me — tell me right now you aren’t hard. Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you. Tell me — say that you don’t want me to touch you, Armin. Just tell me ‘no’…”

Armin forgets to breathe while staring incredulously up at Eren. He’s entranced by the wild, ravenous look in the boy’s verdant eyes — it ties his stomach into knots in the best way possible. He feels naked in more than just the literal sense, like Eren is seeing right through him, combing through every fiber of his being and tugging out each of his secret, salacious wants one by one. 

He’s sure that he’s hard right now. He really wants Eren to kiss him. And nothing would make him happier than to have Eren’s lovely hands all over his body.

He can’t say no. He simply can’t.

But he also can’t say yes, or he’ll officially be complicit in the grave betrayal of Jean’s trust. He hadn’t put forth all of this effort in self-restraint to crumble and cave like that. So he shuts his lips and silently holds Eren’s gaze, tightly clenching his fists over his chest as he struggles to steady his breathing.

Eren waits. 

And he waits. 

And waits. 

And then Armin meets his eyes and Eren’s heart leaps to his throat briefly, like the sudden pattering of a dove’s wings as they are shaken into flight…

But the boy doesn’t say anything; not a sound escapes his tightly shut lips. And that dove gets brutally snatched mid-flight as Eren realizes just what Armin did. He found a loophole, of course. He couldn’t say no, so he decided simply not to say yes. 

Damn the boy’s brilliance! Damn it to all three Walls!

Eren groans and moves off of Armin, rolling over the boy to his side where he curls up to lick his wounds. “ Damn it Armin… ” He hates how small and broken his voice sounds, but he can’t quite do anything about it as frustrated tears prickle in his eyes.

Eren’s disappointed tone stings Armin’s heart. Had he really been counting on me giving in that quickly? He’s not sure that he really wants the answer to that question, but it hangs persistently over his head nonetheless.

Armin turns his head to face Eren, frowning at the boy’s pout and downcast eyes. He can’t stand to see Eren in such low spirits, so he reaches out to take the boy’s hand and run his thumb gently over Eren’s knuckles. He hopes that the touch is soothing enough to cheer him up at least a little bit.

The touch both helps and really really doesn’t help. Eren laughs wetly, rolling onto his back and slinging his free arm over his eyes to hide the betraying moisture. “Fuck… ‘Min I seriously don’t know how much of this I can take before I just — I don’t know, blow up or something.”

Armin nearly chokes on his laughter while trying to stifle it. “Then how do you think I feel having to pry you off of me against my wishes at every turn? Sina, it’s too much…”

Slowly, Eren turns his head to look at Armin with no shortness of shock in his wide green eyes. “Uh — against your wishes, huh?” he repeats, bit by bit. “You want it then…”

Armin’s eyes widen in mortified panic. Dammit — why did I say that?

Eren shifts his body just a little closer to Armin and turns so that he lays on his side, propped up on one forearm as he reaches out with the other hand to press back Armin’s bangs. “He — he doesn’t have to know, Armin.” Though Eren says it softly and coaxingly, he feels a bit of self-disgust curl up inside his gut at the thought of doing something so clearly behind Jean’s back. It hurts him. But he’s really starting to lose coherence… and Armin looks so pretty.

Armin slowly lets out a shaky, high-pitched sigh as he instinctively leans into Eren’s touch. It’s so chaste that he almost can’t believe how intensely he’s blushing in response to it. But he’s always been weak when it comes to Eren — he’s a prisoner to the boy’s wild and alluring charms. How presumptuous of him, to think that he could outlast Eren’s passion, of all people.

He’s buckling under the weight of his desire to shut his eyes and let Eren’s hand move lower, much lower. But while he still has even an ounce of strength left in him, he has to keep pushing against it.

“But… but you will know, Eren… and that kind of guilt — I — I don’t want it to weigh on you…”

Eren doesn’t move his hand away, but his brows do twist down with a look full of confliction. “I couldn’t feel guilty for doing this — I think, really, it’s fate,” he says slowly, parsing the words together as his thoughts swirl in tidal pools. 

“Wh… what?” Armin just barely squeaks out the word, his stomach doing somersaults as the implications of Eren’s words paint a series of scandalous pictures in his head. “Eren, what are you suggesting?”

Eren smiles gently and feels a warmth cover him from head to toe despite being nearly completely naked in a cold cave with rain and wind pouring outside. He lets his eyes trace the contours of Armin’s face, taking his time around the boy’s soft cheeks, his sweet little nose, his sharp chin, his delicate rosy lips…

He moves a little closer and presses his forehead against Armin’s as he sighs out, somewhat shakily. “I don’t think there’s a future I’ve imagined where I don’t kiss you Armin…”

Armin shuts his eyes and bites his lip as he lets out a pathetic little whimper. Eren is too close. His lips are right there. From this distance, the temptation to turn his own head up and kiss them is burning him alive. This is dangerous. 

Armin brings his hands up to grip Eren’s shoulders, pressing on them with the heels of his palms, but not with nearly enough force to move Eren. He starts panting through gritted teeth as waves of guilt-burdened arousal crash over him.

“Sina… Eren…”

The smile on Eren’s face becomes a little bigger; the warmth becomes heat . He moves the hand on Armin’s face down to the boy’s shoulder, carefully nudging the blanket down as he continues to trace over Armin’s arm. He follows the delicate slope of the boy’s bicep down to his forearm, curling his fingers to cup his elbow briefly as his thumb teases the inside of the joint. Then he moves further down until he is holding Armin’s small wrist.

He removes it from his shoulder and guides the palm to his lips, kissing the soft skin there with trembling reverence. “I —” he whispers, eyes half-lidded as he fully gives in to the delightful sin. “I love you, Armin. Let me love you?”

The soft, melodic tenderness in Eren’s voice is what does Armin in — he feels the last remnants of his resolve shatter like glass as tears prick the corners of his eyes. Eren’s sliding touch gives him delightful chills, and the kiss to his hand makes him dizzy with overflowing affection and want. The boy is simply too beautiful — and Armin is hopelessly transfixed by that beauty.

His trembling hand squeezes Eren’s shoulder harder, and his lips curl up into a shy smile. “I… I love you too, Eren,” he whispers faintly.

Armin’s confession warms Eren’s heart — but it does not tame down the sudden flickering flames that lick at his skin. He doesn’t want to coerce Armin into saying yes; that’s the furthest thing he wants.

But he’s also pretty aware that no matter how much Armin might want this to go forward, the boy is paralyzed by his fear of consequence. Eren is not, obviously . The future and all its problems are to be dealt with by future Eren. Thus… not his problem right now.

So he decides to push a little. He dares to seduce.

 He lets Armin’s hand go and moves again, rolling onto his knees and straddling Armin. Then he presses his hands gently on both of the boy’s shoulders, and slowly drags the blanket down. He stops just before the soft pink of Armin’s nipples show, and then moves his hands, tracing the slope of the boy’s collarbone in an aimless back and forth motion. “Let me… love you,” he says, but doesn’t ask.

There are tears streaming down the sides of Armin’s face when he blinks slowly, staring up at Eren with his lips parted in astonishment. His blood burns like fire as it rushes through his body — the heat of his arousal is now completely unignorable. He whines as his hips buck up into Eren’s, and the pressure on his hard cock fills his gut with an intense, delicious pleasure.

Armin had never thought it possible for something so bad to feel so good. He knows he doesn’t deserve it — especially not under circumstances like these — but by the Walls, it’s everything that he’s ever wanted.

“Please —” Armin finally lets the words pour out of him. “Please touch me, Eren. Please kiss me. Please, I need it…”

Chapter Text

For a good long minute Eren can’t breathe. The tears streaming down Armin’s beautiful face leave his sky-blue eyes wet as they cling to his golden lashes. And then the boy bucks under him, in just the sweetest display of need Eren’s ever witnessed. His hard prick just barely brushes up against Eren’s painfully hard erection. 

And then his pretty lips open and pure, melodic, broken words come spilling out — forming a plea so perfect, so darling…

Eren has to gasp. He gasps and then he bends down to cup Armin’s face and finally, finally, presses their lips together. And it is just like that first time but so much better. The sun might not be shining around them, they might not be sitting on a grassy hill in their hometown, the warmth and youth of an ignorant summer might not be enveloping them — but still somehow this kiss makes Eren soar.

The moment that Eren’s lips meet his own, Armin has to choke back another sob. They feel just like he’d always remembered them — bold and cheeky in their initial advance, yet still somewhat shy, like Eren had been afraid to damage or sully something that he treasured deeply. But now those lips are fuller, and warmer. They trace his own with the kind of care and meaning that transcends words. They taste like home.

Armin wraps his arms around Eren’s neck and pulls him down closer, sighing and giggling against Eren’s lips. What was once a scalding heat in his chest is now a comforting, overflowing warmth. Armin couldn’t stop smiling if he tried.

For some perverse reason… Armin’s giggles on Eren’s lips makes him harder. He breaks their kiss slightly, just so he can look at Armin’s face and see the slight shimmer of wetness on his mouth. 

Oh and it is so pretty.

Eren presses back down, this time with a tad more passion, and gently traces Armin’s lips with his tongue, seeking entry (he’s rather thrown back suddenly to the first time he kissed Jean doing the very same move and wonders giddily if he’ll have to teach Armin as well, or if the boy’s brilliance would prove an advantage).

Armin shivers when he feels Eren’s tongue on his lips, and his heart starts to race all over again. He’s read about this move in plenty of books, so he immediately knows what Eren is wordlessly asking for — but he’s suddenly filled with dread that he won’t be able to give it to Eren properly. Still, his desire to trace Eren’s tongue with his own far outweighs his fear, so he opens his mouth and invites Eren in with a soft moan, his fingers timidly stroking the nape of Eren’s neck.

And oh how Eren’s stomach swoops . He’s caught by such surprise and delight that he lets out a shivery moan right back into Armin’s mouth — quickly chasing the sound with his tongue and finding Armin’s taste as addictive as he had dreamed. 

He dips and traces around, familiarizing himself with Armin’s mouth and feeling so incredibly giddy and aroused that he can’t stop himself from trembling a little. 

For Armin, too, the deepening of the kiss is exhilarating. Eren’s tongue is hot, wet, and agile as it dances effortlessly around his mouth. Armin struggles to keep up with its movements at first, but every push and caress makes sparks fly in his stomach so he hardly minds the overwhelm. Soon, however, he gets a feel for Eren’s rhythm, and he responds in perfect time, sliding his tongue against Eren’s and exploring Eren’s mouth with an ever-growing confidence.

Eren’s arms are holding him up mostly, braced on the cold stone just above Armin’s head, but he’s beginning to feel almost too weak to go on for much longer in this position.

He’s also rather melting at Armin’s inexplicably quick talent in not just keeping up with his tongue — but with giving back as good as he gets. 

He breaks away to gasp for air, blinking out the surprise in his eyes and feeling himself blush darkly. “A-Armin?” he croaks out. “How — how are you so…” He laughs at his own shock and leans down to rest his head under Armin’s chin. “I thought you’ve never kissed anyone before me?”

Armin’s breath hitches, and the blush on his cheeks turns a deep, striking shade of red.  “I — I haven’t!” he insists, his voice shaky and breathy. “I just… it was easy to follow your lead, y’know?”

Eren pops up from his place resting on Armin’s chest, eyebrows twisted with some confusion even as he blushes at the compliment. “I’ve kissed a lot of people Armin — most of them don’t take to it as naturally as you did. You —” He loses his words suddenly, far too enamored with the look on Armin’s pretty face. He presses what he intends to be a short and chaste kiss to the boy’s cheek, but it’s just so soft and inviting… so he kisses it again and again and again… and finds himself trailing right back down to Armin’s lips.

Armin’s lips. Holy fuck he’s kissing Armin…

The first thing he feels as their lips part again is bubbling arousal — the giddy and breathless kind that makes him hard and hot while keeping his heart pattering like a trapped butterfly. The second thing he feels is a deep longing.

I wish Jean could see him like this… 

Armin squirms under Eren as the boy peppers his face with kisses. His high-pitched moans and whimpers echo off the walls of the cave until Eren presses their lips together again and swallows the sounds of his arousal. This time Armin needs no prompting — his jaw falls open all on its own, his tongue ready and waiting for Eren’s to enter. 

And Eren does, eagerly and with very little restraint. He licks into Armin’s mouth, savoring his taste and memorizing every inch of the boy’s tantalizing tongue. He even treats Armin to some of his more salacious moves and circles his tongue over the tip of Armin’s — hinting at a very different kind of act he’d very much like to do.

 That move catches Armin off guard, and it makes him ache for the feeling of Eren’s tongue on damn near every inch of his body. He groans into Eren’s mouth as his tongue presses deeper into it.

Slowly, he slides his arms down Eren’s back, teasing at the boy’s spine with his fingertips, before they settle on his lower back and Armin tightly wraps his arms around Eren’s waist.

The soft, almost imperceptible pressure makes Eren act on instinct — he grinds his hips down, rubbing his nearly-painful tent up against Armin’s crotch. The sensation is enough to make him gasp into their joined mouths and he has to break away wetly. “Armin…” he moans helplessly. “Armin let me taste you — let me suck you?”

“Huh?” Armin’s wide eyes flood with lust as he stares at Eren — or, rather, at the multitude of his inappropriate fantasies involving Eren between his legs that flash through his mind. His cock twitches as it leaks onto Armin’s stomach, and he moans helplessly as his hips roll against Eren.

“I…” Armin’s face feels impossibly hot — he can’t hold Eren’s gaze any longer, so he stares at the ground to his side, wearing an adorably sheepish smile. “I’d really like that, Eren.”

Oh!

The shock of delight and arousal that Eren gets upon hearing not just agreement from Armin, but eagerness from the boy is nearly too much and he has to shoot a hand down to grip himself very very harshly. 

He doesn’t waste much time though, and quickly shuffles down Armin’s body, pressing kisses down any exposed skin between the folds of the blanket. 

By the time he gets to Armin’s stomach, pressing his face into the blanket though there’s no skin there to touch, he’s shaking with eagerness. He feels like he’s about to unwrap a gift; seeing Armin hard has been the stuff of his wet dreams since he was old enough to have them. 

He grips the blanket… almost ready to tear it away in one motion. And then stops himself. He’s far too worked up and he’s genuinely afraid that the visual of Armin’s fully nude and aroused body will spell his small death. So he does himself a favor and uses one hand to gently rub at the small protruding tent in the blanket where Armin’s cock is. He is gentle; the rough texture of the fabric is more than enough stimulation, his hand is simply guiding it. “Just — give me a minute, Minnie… I — I’m a little too close…” he admits with a dark blush.

There’s not much pressure; there’s not much speed; but even so, the soft scratching of the wool over his throbbing shaft steals Armin’s breath away. Even through the blanket, Eren’s hand on his cock feels different than his own hand does. It feels better.

Eren’s hand shifts the blanket, briskly dragging the fabric over Armin’s slit, and Armin wets it with a fresh spurt of precum as his back arches ever so slightly.

“Anh —” He slaps a hand over his mouth, humiliated by the lewdness of his voice but utterly unable to keep himself quiet. Not while such a beautiful mix of strain and bliss decorates Eren’s face — the sight makes him hot all over.

I don’t think it’s been that long… we haven’t done anything besides kiss… and Eren is already…?

Armin can’t believe that he’s affecting Eren so deeply, that Eren wants him so badly. He has to grind his hips into the ground to keep from humping Eren’s hand like an animal.

“Slow down, I — hah! — I’m s-sensitive…” Armin’s next words come out much softer, much quicker: “And I wanna last for you, Eren…”

Sina, Rose, and Maria help me… Eren’s hand freezes where it is — he can just barely feel the small patch of wetness where Armin had leaked precum through the blanket. His eyes are locked onto Armin’s face.

His best friend since childhood is making an expression that Eren has never seen and it is so beautiful — so incredibly beautiful… Walls , Eren needs Jean to draw it. Eren’s eyes travel from Armin’s slightly mussed hair to his flushed-pink cheeks, to his parted lips and to his oh-so-gorgeous neck and… Walls fall on me now because I don’t think I can handle him . 

“Y-you —” Eren moves his hand off of Armin’s hard prick, slowly because he still can’t really believe he was touching it (indirectly, as it was through the blanket, but still). “Yeah okay — uh — okay…” He swallows the abundance of saliva in his mouth and refocuses on dragging both his hands up Armin’s chest to where the blanket still covers. Then he starts pulling it down, revealing the rest of Armin’s flushed skin and feeling dizzy with how much it turns him on. 

It’s like the first time with Mikasa all over again, fuck…

“A-are you cold?” Eren asks, just to say something.

Armin barely feels the cool air in the cave on his newly exposed skin — a sudden wave of shyness has him blushing from head to toe and stammering awkwardly for a while before he can find his words again. “N-no, I’m… I’m fine…”

Eren continues pulling the blanket down until he can see Armin’s navel. It makes him twitch in his underwear and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. He flicks his gaze up to see Armin’s shy look, tinted by arousal, and that sends another sharp tug of lust through his groin. He swallows again and nods. “Good. That’s good — uh…” he glances back down to where his hands have dragged the blanket right at Armin’s hips. 

The fact that he’s about to see Armin hard is making him faint with lust. But he doesn’t think he can quite deny himself the sight any more. With a slow flourish, he removes the blanket from Armin’s body, laying it to the side mindlessly. “Oh, Armin… ”

A chill slithers down Armin’s spine, and he isn’t sure whether to blame the sultry, breathless tone of Eren’s voice or the enraptured focus of Eren’s gaze on his pink, swollen cock. It twitches with more fervor now and leaks like a faucet, like it’s excited to have such a captive audience, and Armin can’t bear to watch it — he throws one of his forearms over his eyes as a string of anxious giggles pour out of him.

“Eren please say something you’re making me nervous…”

“ Yourpenisisreallycute! ” Eren garbles out immediately in one high breath. Then promptly blushes and slaps his hands over his burning face. “Oh my fucking god — please pretend you didn’t hear that, ‘Min…”

Armin does no such thing — his jaw drops, and then he properly laughs for a solid minute, filling the cave with the sounds of his amused hollers and gasps. “Sina,” he sighs when he finally catches his breath, pulling his arm away from his face. “I’m so relieved you like it…”

Eren tries to roll his eyes but he’s far too busy keeping them locked on Armin’s cock. He’s just about had his fill of looking at the sweet curve of it, the dusty-pink of the crown, the glossy sheen of precum… 

Yep, he’s had his fill of looking and is just about ready to start tasting. He shuffles further down Armin’s body until he’s at just the right position to lay on his stomach between the boy’s legs and bracket Armin’s hips with his arms, cupping them with his hands possessively. He presses a soft kiss to the top of Armin’s thigh, dangerously close to the crease where it meets his groin, before glancing up through his lashes. “I like it a lot, ‘Min,” he says lowly. “Think I can have a taste?” he teases with a slow smirk.

“Mh!” Armin feels like his skin is on fire where Eren had just kissed him — the pleasure steadily trickles through his groin, making his hips sway and his heart skip a beat. He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen Eren look more alluring than he does now, settled so nicely between his legs with that sharp, sultry glint in his emerald eyes. “Yes, please,” Armin moans between panting breaths.

That’s all the encouragement Eren needs. He leans slowly to nuzzle at Armin’s groin, huffing in the scent of the boy at its purest form and feeling almost heady from it. He presses his nose closer to the shaft and drags it upwards until he can press his lips to the crown of Armin’s glossy prick. 

“You smell so good, Armin…” he croons thickly, letting the words brush over the sensitive underside of the boy’s cockhead. He tips his head just a little to the side so he can press a kiss to the frenulum, daring to lick at the skin and suck just the slightest bit. 

Though Eren’s ministrations are faint, they feel electric. Armin can’t suppress the litany of trembling sighs that spill from his parted lips, so he moves a hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to muffle them. A part of him is afraid of whatever other moves Eren has up his sleeve, if he’s already responding this strongly (and embarrassingly) to these initial teases…

Eren lifts his head up for a moment, letting Armin’s cock slap back wetly on the boy’s stomach. He feels dizzy with lust but somehow also very steady. “We’re alone, Armin… let me hear you,” he whispers gently, moving his thumbs in small circles over the protrusion of Armin’s hip bones. 

Eren’s easing tone gives Armin just enough courage to slowly lower his hand. He stares with wide, shimmering eyes at Eren’s lust-filled, needy expression, his cheeks flushed bright red. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Eren smiles, his heart somehow breaking and filling at the same moment. “Of course I won’t, sweetheart.”

“Mm, good.” Armin smiles back at Eren twice as wide, nodding his head once before taking a deep, shaky breath and shutting his eyes. “Go on, then.”

Eren smiles again, a private and excited smile, before turning his attention back to Armin’s cock. Carefully, with one hand, he cradles it upright, teasing it just a little with a slow stroke up and down, rubbing his thumb at the sensitive spot under the head the way he knows Jean likes — he’s rather curious to see what works for Armin and wants to put on every move he knows. 

Armin cries out as a shockwave of pleasure rips through his core, prompting his thighs to close in around Eren’s head. “Sina, that feels so nice — mmh… please keep doing that…”

Eren feels a victorious swoop in his stomach when Armin’s legs close around him, made sweeter by the boy’s soft praise and equally effective moan. But as cozy and arousing as it is to be enclosed by Armin’s soft legs, Eren needs room to work. Slowly but forcefully, he uses his hands to press Armin’s legs open, holding them in that position for a moment before deciding to give in a little to his feral instincts. He presses Armin’s legs wider and then… up , pinning the boy by the underside of his knees and spreading him for Eren’s viewing pleasure.

His own cock is so hard right now Eren’s half-worried he’ll rip a hole in his underwear. 

The slow, gentle spreading of his legs floods Armin’s body with giddy, aroused anticipation, and his expectations are sharply subverted when his knees are pinned just above his hips. He shrieks as his stomach flips, eyes widening in humiliated shock. “Eren! What are you doing?”

“Lookin’ at you,” Eren says breathlessly, and does just that. He can just barely see Armin’s pink taint from here too and it’s making him… it’s making him lose his mind. With great difficulty he tears his eyes back up to Armin’s face, cheeks burning red and eyes hazy with lust. “Hold your legs like this for me,” he orders gruffly.

“Mhm…” Armin swallows and nods obediently, reeling from the rush of warm arousal that Eren’s demanding tone gives him. He moves his hands down to gently grip the insides of his knees, averting his gaze as he spreads his legs just a little bit wider.

“Oh that’s so good , Minnie — fuck you look perfect like this…” Eren says brokenly, his voice something between a keen and a sigh. With Armin’s legs secured, Eren returns to his spot, this time able to simply bend over Armin’s cock instead of laying on his stomach. With very little warning, he sucks the entirety of the boy’s length into his mouth, moaning with shock at how right it feels. 

It happens so quickly that Armin’s caught off guard by the warmth of Eren’s mouth enveloping his length. But it’s such a beautifully heady sensation that he’s shamelessly moaning in response before he knows it. His fingers dig into his thighs and his moans quickly turn into broken, panting whines once Eren’s tongue starts moving.

And oh does it move . Eren has well over four years of experience working his magic around cocks, and when it comes to Armin, he’s pulling no stops. He moves his tongue in swirls, in stripes, in quick swipes that turn to hard presses against the spots that make Armin whine louder. 

He’s sucking and hollowing his cheeks, and is no longer thinking about anything other than coaxing out more of that sweet sweet elixir that the boy is pouring into his mouth, more of those delicious sounds that are as melodic and tantalizing as the harps of the Wallist choir. Only they are better and far far more enchanting. 

Not for the first time, Eren wishes Jean were here. To see Armin come apart, to watch as Eren works these sounds out of his best friend. Something this beautiful feels selfish to keep for himself. 

Sina, if only Mikasa could see you now Armin…

None of Armin’s countless wet dreams hold a candle to the pleasure that Eren’s masterful tongue is gifting him. It blooms in his gut and ripples through the rest of his body, soaking him in heated lust down to the bone. His hips start to rock, and soon he’s messily fucking Eren’s mouth while the boy works his magic. Armin is sure that between his body’s lascivious movements and his breathy keening, he looks positively whorish right now. But it’s all for Eren — his sweet, beloved Eren, who revels in such indecency — so in a strange, backwards way, he enjoys how it makes him burn with embarrassment.

Armin wants to speak, to sing Eren’s praises, but his utterly useless lips can form nothing but garbled whimpers and moans. He now perfectly understands how Eren could get addicted to this kind of physical pleasure. He doesn’t want to think about anything except how good his dick feels in Eren’s mouth. He wants to drown in this sensation and never resurface.

Walls, he’s got it so bad… 

Armin is a natural, is what Eren concludes after the boy’s hips start fucking into his mouth. Not a natural in the way Jean was… all bravado thinly disguising his shyness. No, Armin is a natural in an instinctive way — he moves like his body has overtaken his mind, like his body’s only impulse is to take and give and keen under Eren’s touch. 

It makes Eren want to fuck him. To fuck him and breed him even — however factually impossible that is. 

Armin’s cock is spilling onto Eren’s tongue with copious floods of the boy’s arousal. His voice is making the sweetest sounds that keep Eren on the edge of his sanity, and the way the boy writhes under him?

Oh Sina, the boy looks so slutty it’s sin incarnate. 

Armin’s panting grows heavier, and his hips maintain a brisk, relentless pace as they thrust into Eren’s face. The heat building steadily in his core is melting him. He’s suddenly struck by a familiar tugging sensation in that area, but it’s far more intense than what he’s used to feeling in his solo sessions. He throws his head back, choking on his next salacious-sounding moan.

“Eren, I — anh! — I’m close!”

Slowly, regrettably, Eren pulls off Armin, using his pointer finger and thumb to encircle the base of the boy’s cock. He presses an apologetic kiss just under Armin’s belly button and hums softly into the flesh. “D’you wanna cum like this? Or…” His voice cracks a little and his face feels so warm. “Do — can I…” He curses and lifts his face to look at Armin, finding the boy’s wide blue eyes and feeling at once reassured by their familiarity. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Armin softly moans at the simple mention of it, and then he quickly shifts his gaze downward in shame. He’s sure he couldn’t look or sound more eager right now if he tried. So much for being able to play this cool.

But maybe he doesn’t really need to, Armin remembers once he takes a breath and hazards another glance at Eren’s wide, anticipatory green eyes. He finds no trace of judgment there — he never does. This is his one and only chance to be fully open and honest with Eren. He thinks about how much lighter he’ll feel once his swirling thoughts are off his chest, and his lips curl into a sweet, shy smile.

“To tell you the truth, Eren, I… I’ve always wanted you to be my first. No one else — just you. So… yes, yes I really want you to fuck me right now…”

Eren’s heart feels fit to burst. He thinks that there might be tears in his eyes. Carefully, like he’s handling a snowflake that at the slightest rough touch will melt, he cups Armin’s face with both his hands and leans in to kiss the boy slowly and cherishingly.

He pulls off slightly, tugging on Armin’s lower lip because it is just so sweet. “I —” he laughs weakly, his mind utterly in shambles at the precious gift Armin is so willingly handing him. “Are you — are you sure? Here? Now?” He needs to be certain that this memory won’t feel anything less than perfect — he won’t stand for anything less than that for Armin.

“I’m sure,” Armin answers with a choked up voice, his eyes glistening with tears of gratitude for Eren’s thoughtfulness and care. He gingerly presses his hand to Eren’s cheek, stroking it back and forth with his thumb as his smile widens. “I love you, and I want you. Nothing would make me happier than to feel you inside of me… wouldn’t you like that, too?”

Eren cannot suppress the whining keen that escapes his chest at the simple thought . It takes him a moment to gather enough air in his lungs to respond. “Oh Sina … yes I do…  I really really do…” He shuffles messily up to his feet and practically sprints to his abandoned backpack, tossing out rations and tools until he finds the small vial of cooking oil kept in a small leather waterskin pouch. 

He comes back and stops only to toss off his underwear, finally letting his erection smack up against his abs, so hard it hurts. Carefully, he moves back between Armin’s legs and rolls the blanket so that he can slip it under the boy’s hips, giving Armin a soft tap to convey his intentions.

Armin doesn’t take his eyes off of Eren for a single moment; part of him can’t believe that he had the courage to accept Eren’s offer, can’t believe that Eren is actually preparing to fuck him and take his virginity. But it is happening — Eren’s tap on his hip is enough to ground him back in the moment, and he lifts his hips for Eren to slide the blanket under them. 

His whole body quivers in anticipation, and he prays that it isn’t too noticeable. He wants Eren to be able to enjoy this as much as possible, too, so the last thing he wants to do is give him any reason to worry.

With the blanket in place, Eren takes a moment to breathe and just look at the gorgeous sight Armin makes in front of him. The boy has this expression between anxious and excited and it’s all coated with a soft layer of undisguised arousal — it’s enough to make Eren’s mouth run dry. 

He really wishes Jean could be here to see this — to see how beautiful Armin looks. 

Slowly, he drags his hands up Armin’s legs, running them back and forth gently over the boy’s thighs in a soothing and warming gesture. “You look so perfect, angel. Don’t be nervous, okay? It’s not gonna hurt, I promise.”

Armin swoons at Eren’s honey-sweet words, giggling softly as the gentle stroking of his thighs sends shivers up his spine. “I know you’ll take good care of me, Eren,” he sighs, daring to look up at the boy through his lashes. “I’m definitely more excited than nervous.”

“Good,” Eren grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Armin’s nose. He then moves down to Armin’s lips because they are right there and finally he’s allowed to kiss them. Well… perhaps not allowed — but Eren refuses to think on semantics.

His hands work silently and efficiently to unfasten the tight seal on the skin bag and deftly spill some of the cooking oil into his palm. He sets the bag aside for later and then carefully flattens his palm on Armin’s cock, getting most of the oil there before dragging downwards over Armin’s balls and down to his ass where he slips his fingers (and the oil) right down his crack. With the boy’s entire groin sufficiently lubricated, Eren moves away from Armin’s tempting lips and admires the glossy effect it has, all while starting slow massaging up-down movements with his fingers over Armin’s hole. “H-how does that feel? You okay?” he checks, voice faint but concerned.

Armin struggles to keep himself still while Eren slowly, deftly slicks him up — each spot that Eren touches feels more sensitive than the last, draws more stuttering sighs from his throat. He tries to disguise them with laughter at first, but he quickly gives up once he gets properly lost in the pleasurable sensations. “I’m — mm, yeah, I’m okay.”

Eren smiles softly and then turns his focus to where his hands are. The oil has done a very good job of removing most of the friction so the glide of his fingers is wonderfully smooth as he passes them up and down over Armin’s taint. He starts adding a little more pressure over each pass, hypnotized by the give of flesh under his thumb and wanting to see so much more. “Okay… gonna put one in now — tell me if — if you need a moment.” Holding his breath, Eren presses the tip of his middle finger against Armin’s hole, circling it for a minute on the outside, before pressing in just until the first knuckle. 

Armin sucks in a sharp breath as soon as he feels Eren’s fingertip enter him. The real prep has officially begun, and already it feels better than it did in even his wildest fantasies. Anxious arousal floods his body, and he starts pulsating around Eren’s finger. Fearing that he might be squeezing too tightly, Armin wills himself to take deep breaths and keep himself relaxed…

To combat the sensation of strangeness, Eren immediately starts circling the finger in tight circles against the inside of Armin’s hole, knowing for himself how ticklish and pleasant it would feel. And sure enough, Armin’s faint moaning is broken up by a few downright adorable giggles. He instinctively covers his mouth with one hand, and his hips sway and squirm in time with Eren’s movements.

Encouraged by the delightful display, Eren slips his finger in a little deeper, now down to the second knuckle. At this point he has a bit more room to do more than simply make small circles so he starts gently crooking his finger upwards… searching as well as simply exploring as he is not yet sure how far deep Armin’s special spot is. 

“Still good, ‘Min?” he asks, but he has a good feeling about Armin’s response — the boy is practically wiggling under his ministrations.

Armin’s heart flutters, and he lets out a long, needy sigh as Eren works his way in deeper. Eren pokes and prods at spots that Armin would never have thought to tease himself, and the pressure feels as strange as it does pleasurable. “St-still good,” he stammers out, and then he bites down on his lip when Eren hits a shockingly sensitive spot that makes him keen.

“There it is…” Eren whispers, mostly to himself as he grins. With more intent, he slides his finger in a little deeper, working past the second knuckle and brushing upwards with a little more purpose — running the pad up against the soft inner walls of Armin’s body and coaxing out pleasure with a delicate focus. “Think you wanna try two now? Gotta stretch you out, Minnie…”

The hot, electric sensations rip through Armin’s body, arching his back sharply and pulling loud, shrieking moans out from his chest. Speech is a lost cause for him, so instead he locks eyes with Eren and quickly, emphatically nods his head. He needs so much more of the bliss that Eren is giving him, and he needs it now.

Eren sucks in a breath but still feels lightheaded; the sudden blood-rush to his groin as a result of Armin’s passionate screams is most likely to blame. He pulls out his finger and, after ensuring that his pointer is also suitably coated with oil, slips the tips of both his fingers right back in. He’s startled at the temperature difference of his own fingers — his pointer feels cold compared to the warmth of his middle — and knowing that it was Armin’s own heat that made such a difference is driving him slightly insane.

His finger is warm because it was inside of Armin. And now both fingers are getting warm, and Eren is burning up. It feels so stupid to say, but Eren needs to say it. “You — fuck Armin, you’re so perfect .” He presses both fingers deeper in, stretching them and scissoring them just a little before quickly returning to that spot that made Armin scream.

Sina, Rose, and Maria, Armin doesn’t have words for how lovely it feels to be stretched by Eren’s fingers like this. He lolls his head back and groans, relishing the delicious pressure on his inner walls. He blinks, and then both of Eren’s fingers are pushing on his weak spot — stroking it back and forth, not too fast but not slow by any means. 

He’s shaking from the force of the pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as he whines and keens with pornographic desperation. It’s too much, it’s too intense, and still he grinds his hips downward to push that spot harder against Eren’s fingers, shamelessly chasing more.

One thrust — two thrusts — 

And that almost does him in. Armin panics when the searing hot sparks pop up in his core; he hurriedly grabs the base of his prick and nearly crushes it in his grip. “Eren stop!” he shouts.

Eren rips his fingers out of Armin with a gasp — knowing exactly what those pulsations around his fingers indicate and seeing it manifest in Armin’s desperate grasp over his own cock not a second after. 

He feels as wrecked as Armin looks — gasping as he plants his hands on the fabric of his cloak under Armin’s body. “Fuck… could feel how close you were, ‘Min,” he chokes, bringing his clean hand up to push the sweaty blond strands out of Armin’s face with a light touch. “You — you alright?” he smiles, eyes devouring the look of Armin’s disheveled state.

Part of Armin wants to dissolve into the ground, he’s so mortified by his sensitivity — but he’s mostly grateful that he hadn’t freaked Eren out too much with his sudden outburst. He meets Eren’s eyes shyly, marveling at the way the boy’s verdant irises shine with lust and admiration, bright enough to cut through the dark. “I’m alright,” Armin whispers, his voice a little too worn out to carry properly. “S-sorry if I startled you…”

Eren laughs breathlessly, staring at the boy beneath him with a mixture of awe and adoration and enough arousal to make him lightheaded again. “I — fuck, Armin that was the hottest shit I’ve ever heard you say,” he pauses, reflecting a bit on that admission with not a little embarrassment. “Shit I almost didn’t want to stop…”

“Wh…?” Armin’s eyes widen in disbelief, and his lips hang open dumbly. He hasn’t said anything remotely worthy of such high praise, he thinks. He’d just freaked out about losing his cool and almost ruining the moment by cumming too quickly, and somehow Eren is impressed by that?

Walls, Armin will never understand this boy, and that makes him even crazier for Eren.

He sputters out a laugh before pulling Eren down into a tight hug, combing through the boy’s soft hair with his fingers while humming sweetly into his ear. “You’re way too kind to me, Eren… how do I even respond to that kind of statement?”

To say that Eren was ill-prepared for how close Armin’s hug would bring his cock to touching that same spot his fingers were at not a moment ago… would be the understatement of the century.

He makes a very strange sound between a gasp and a hiccough and his hips buckle almost immediately — seeking the wet warmth instinctively and without his express permission. Eren barely gets himself under control, but his cock does brush up at the soft furled hole — and stays there.

He’s in no state to respond to Armin, eyes wide as he breathes through his mouth against the boy’s neck, but he tries nonetheless. “Ah — Ar-min? I think — oh fuck!” he keens, shutting his eyes against the wave of urgent need in his body. “Sina… I could just push in right now…” 

Armin’s attention snaps right back to his rapidly pulsating hole… and the hot, leaking cockhead that pushes and twitches against it. Feeling Eren’s arousal on his body like this makes Armin dizzy with lust — he practically mewls into Eren’s ear as his hips sway and tremble. He can’t take how perfectly seductive Eren is, he just can’t.

So he hooks his arms around Eren’s neck and holds him down tighter, digging his fingers into the boy’s shoulders and burying his face in the crook of Eren’s neck to kiss it wetly. “Do it, Eren,” he whispers against the boy’s skin, his voice shaking something terrible from the sheer force of his arousal. “I can’t wait any longer. Take me.”

Eren couldn’t say no if his life depended on it. Carefully, breathlessly, he pushes himself up back on his hands, gazing down on Armin’s face for a beautiful earth-shattering moment; he needs to remember Armin’s face like this for the rest of his life.

“Okay — I…” He swallows thickly and lowers his gaze down to where Armin’s hard cock lays flat on his stomach, leaking and twitching. “Alright, uh… just… take big breaths and — tell me if it hurts.” Eren’s voice is barely a whisper. He uses one hand to guide himself so that his cockhead is flush with Armin’s hole. 

He can’t quite stop himself from smearing his tip up and down a few times, teasing himself and Armin for the next move. The delicate frissions of pleasure intermingle with delightful tickles and Eren continues the tease for just a little longer; he’s not scared of taking Armin’s virginity, he’s got plenty of practice and knows he’s fucking good at this. 

But he’s still nervous . This feels — inevitably — big. This feels…

It feels like Jean should be here. And Eren’s no longer sure why. 

Carefully, he presses in.

Chapter Text

Against Eren’s instructions, Armin forgets to breathe as soon as he feels Eren’s cock enter him. He wants to memorize every detail of it — the full, rounded shape of Eren’s cockhead, its striking warmth, its impressive girth, the ever so slight curve of the shaft just under the frenulum — so that no matter what happens after this beautiful moment reaches its inevitable end, he can have this memory as clearly as he’s living it now.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. Eren needs him to relax. Eren needs him to be fully here, with him. So Armin shuts his eyes and takes in a big, deep breath, exhaling it as a trembling moan. Gradually, he settles into the strange yet wonderfully satisfying feeling of being stretched and filled by Eren’s length. Walls, it’s heavenly.

“Oh god ,” Eren is barely keeping himself together. Armin is so warm on the inside he half-forgets to breathe himself. He has to quickly replant his hand on the other side of Armin’s head; one arm simply won’t hold him up. And it’s just the fucking tip…

“Armin… oh Walls , ‘Min… you feel so good,” Eren gasps, ducking his head to kiss Armin’s neck for a moment, licking at the rapid pulse there. “There’s — hng — no pain? Right?”

Armin shakes his head, whimpering as he briefly squeezes around Eren’s cock. “M’good,” he slurs out, and he’s shocked that he’s still at all intelligible while his thoughts are being throttled by shockwaves of pleasure. “ So good… deeper, Eren — mmh, ahh…”

“ Fuck! ” Eren hisses. The squeeze around his cockhead was already enough to make him see stars, but then Armin whispers ‘deeper’ in that utterly pleasured and blissed out voice and Eren really does think he sees stars.

He pulses his hips forward, teasing a bit deeper before withdrawing back to just under his frenulum. It takes every ounce of control in his body to not bottom out. As experienced as he is, it’s still been a good two months since he’s fucked someone — he’s forgotten just how warm and tight and good it is. “You look, mmh, so fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart…” Eren bends down to lick at Armin’s ear, nipping it gently between his teeth. “Gonna go deeper now — breathe. ”

“O-okay — ah!” Eren’s warm, lithe tongue and husky voice make Armin shudder. He’s not sure he can take much more of Eren’s sinfully sweet praise — he’s reduced to a squirming, whimpering, panting mess underneath the boy. 

It takes all of Armin’s focus to try and steady his breathing while he slowly, idly runs his hands up and down Eren’s back. He feels far too empty now that Eren has mostly pulled out, and he cannot wait for Eren’s hips to start moving again, for that perfect cock to fill him back up again…

Gradually, Eren starts dipping his hips down, pressing his cock just an inch deeper than before… and fuck if that doesn’t feel so good. It’s like Armin’s body is welcoming him in, like it’s sucking on him, tight and warm. Shit, almost too tight… 

Eren’s hips twitch instinctively as he forces himself to stop with his cock half-buried in Armin; the pleasure is so intense he almost has to pull out just from the electric shock of it. “S-still — hah — still okay, ‘Min?” he gasps weakly, pulling his face out of the comfortable warmth of Armin’s neck to better see the boy’s expression. 

It’s a look of pure, unfettered need — lips parted as soft moans slip past them, cheeks flushed a pretty pink, eyes shimmering with a lustful focus on Eren and only Eren. “I’m okay,” Armin whispers sweetly, and he leans up to kiss Eren’s lips slowly, meaningfully. “Thank you for — mmh, hah — for taking such good care of me…”

Eren’s heart skips two beats and he feels very faint — his dick is half-buried in Armin’s ass and yet it’s Armin’s heartfelt gratitude that turns his face a strawberry red. “Hng!” He buckles a little and hides his burning face against Armin’s chest, gasping for air like he’s been rudely deprived of it for an unfair amount of time. “ Armin… ”

He pulls his hips out a tad, and then pulses them back in, not sharp, but persistent; a shallow thrust just to test out the angle. It feels like fucking heaven.

Armin gasps the moment that Eren’s cock starts to move inside of him. It smoothly strokes his sensitive inner walls — caresses them — and the intoxicating sensation floods his body with potent arousal. He clutches Eren tighter, fingernails scratching the boy’s tanned skin, and his hips rock helplessly as he keens into Eren’s ear. “Anh! Hah! Yes, yes that feels so good!”

The instant gratification Eren gets from Armin’s soft but ardent praise sparks a very new wave of arousal that’s nothing like the waves before — this one is a tidal wave and it wipes clear any coherent thought from Eren’s mind. “Yeah? Y’like that?” His voice takes on a husky quality and he pulls out again with much more intent. Eren adjusts his position and firmly plants his hands right above Armin’s shoulders, bracing himself as he glances down at the joining of their bodies. 

The sight is almost enough to do him in. He pulls back further, until his cock just about slips out… Then he slaps his hips back in, going deeper than before and feeling the wind knock right out of him as a result. “Oh fuck! ”

Armin didn’t anticipate the sudden, deep thrust, but Eren’s shaft stretches him so nicely that he really doesn’t mind the surprise. He squeals as his hips roll instinctively into Eren’s, and he spasms sharply around Eren’s cock. As grateful as he is for Eren’s sweet and careful handling of him so far, Armin can’t deny how hot and giddy this rougher treatment makes him feel…

And Eren reads that enjoyment clear as day on the blond boy’s face — if his pink cute blush wasn’t enough evidence, and his parted lips spilling sinful sounds wouldn’t cut it either — then the delightful flutters of Armin’s insides did the job. 

Eren knows what arousal feels like when he fucks someone — knows exactly how much of a gut-punch it can be to have tight, wet walls pulse around his cock. More importantly… he knows it means more.  

So he pulls out again, nice and slow, luxuriating in the grinding drag of tight flesh over his heated cock, before pushing back in greedily. He’s almost bottomed out and Armin hasn’t let slip one sound of complaint. It’s practically a record. 

Armin softly whines in protest as Eren drags his cock out at a painfully slow pace — he already misses the addictively pleasant pressure on his insides. But by the grace of all three Walls, he doesn’t miss it for long; Eren swiftly pounds back into him, and he can feel the head of Eren’s cock throbbing even deeper within him than before. Armin’s eyes flutter shut as they roll back, and he lets out a long, slutty moan that would have humiliated him if he weren’t so drunk on his overwhelming lust.

“Fuck that was pretty…” Eren mutters thickly. The sound of Armin utterly lost in pleasure is doing things to him he didn’t think possible. He feels like he wants to devour the boy whole, swallow each noise out of him, fill him, claim him like a rabid animal…

But he also feels like he wants nothing but to hold Armin close, to kiss him sweetly and coax soft whimpers and gasps out of those petal-soft lips, to ruin him gently. 

While both urges sway him back and forth violently, he settles with something in the middle… slapping his hips out and in at an increasing speed and ducking his head to start littering the boy with bruising kisses — it’s far too easy and tempting to leave his mark on Armin’s delicate skin. “You — hah, fuck — you feel so good, Armin. Takin’ me so good…” 

“Ah! Agh! Eren!” Armin can’t find the words to respond — there’s no time to think in between Eren’s rough, quickening thrusts. And that’s exactly how Armin had always wanted it, how he needs it right now. His insides can’t quite keep up with Eren’s punishing pace as the boy’s cock prods deeper and deeper; the dull burning sensation makes his head spin and his prick leak profusely onto his stomach.

Then Eren’s teeth sink into his collarbone, and he yelps with delight. Distantly he wonders if he’s made it too obvious that he likes how much it hurts. Still, he runs his fingers through Eren’s hair and massages his scalp to wordlessly express his gratitude.

It has to hurt a little, Eren thinks vaguely. He’s almost bottomed out and Armin was a virgin before this — barely used to his own fingers if Eren had to guess. The fact that Armin is most likely in some pain right now makes Eren feel horrible — but he can’t ignore the evidence… Armin likes it. 

Fuck, the way the boy’s prick hasn’t stopped leaking once since Eren started amping up his thrusts? The way Armin’s face is flushed from the top of his head to the bottom of his chin? The look in that boy’s far-away blue eyes? Oh he’s not just liking it — he’s loving it and Eren doesn’t think he can wrap his head around that. He thrusts harder and then pulls out all the way, readjusting so that he is sitting between Armin’s legs and is able to lift them up and pin them down again, spreading Armin’s hole so vulgarly it makes Eren gasp. 

“Sina, Armin — fuck you’re perfect…” He tips his hips a little but with both his hands occupied he can’t quite angle his cock back into Armin’s hole; it just rubs around the abused entrance in a horrible tease. 

Armin’s hole pulsates rapidly against Eren’s swaying cockhead, and his thighs tremble like he’s still freezing, but he’s sure that he couldn’t feel hotter than he does now. His eyes are hooked on Eren’s body — the subtle curve of the boy’s hips, the stuttering rise and fall of Eren’s chest, the sweat that plasters his pretty hair to his forehead. Armin could watch Eren sit here like this all day and never get bored… but Sina, he so desperately needs Eren to move again.

“Eren… nnh — Eren, please… put it back in. I need you to put it back in…”

Eren very nearly whites out — his cock pulsing dangerously close to a premature ejaculation. He never dared to imagine those words coming out of Armin’s mouth. And the reality of it is so vivid and arousing that he thinks if he takes any more than a second to shove his cock back inside Armin it would be a second too late.

He’s frozen however, pinning Armin’s legs by the boy’s hips with both his hands. Should he ask Armin to hold himself open or…

“Use your — fuck, use your hand — put me in.” 

The order makes Armin’s throat run dry, and his heart starts to pound so hard that he fears it might burst. Something about it feels so profoundly wrong, but Eren is clearly immobilized by his arousal and Armin feels like he might die if he stays empty for a moment longer.

Armin sits himself upright and reaches in between his lewdly spread legs, stopping just before his hand makes contact with Eren’s throbbing, veiny length. It looks positively breathtaking like this — strong and hard and soaking wet, all thanks to the pleasure that he had given Eren with his body and his words. He can’t believe that he’s really about to touch it.

He swallows hard as he wraps his hand around Eren’s shaft, shivering when it starts to twitch against his palm. Armin’s curiosity gets the best of him, and he slowly, gently squeezes it, just to see what’ll happen.

“Ahh!” Eren’s hips buck forward into Armin’s touch and he has to bite his lip to distract himself from the surge of pleasure that overtakes him. Armin’s hand is so soft, it feels like silk against his shaft and he wants nothing more than to thrust into Armin’s hand until he spills. 

And unfortunately he might not even manage two thrusts. “A-ah… Armin w-wait. Fuck, it’s — it’s too good — gonna cum if you keep — hnnngg!” 

That simple, breathless admission is enough to make Armin entirely forget the aching need that had been screaming at him from deep within. Now he can think of nothing but how lovely Eren would look sighing and gasping as he comes apart from just the touch of a hand. Yes, Eren told him to wait, but Walls, he’s been such a good, well-restrained boy his whole damn life — surely it wouldn’t end the world if he disobeyed just this once?

Armin can’t help but giggle anxiously at his own gall. “Sorry,” he whispers shakily while sliding his hand further down Eren’s shaft, not loosening his grip for a moment. “I don’t think I can wait…”

Eren feels like his very soul just got pulled straight down to his groin and the heat that boils just under his skin is enough to make him moan helplessly. “Ar-Armin I —” He gulps down breaths rapidly, desperately trying to stave off the inching orgasm that is making his toes curl. “I’m — oh fuck! I’m serious! I’m gonna —” 

He can’t even get the word out — his hands curl into claws on Armin’s legs, indenting the flesh with crescent-shaped marks. His cock is throbbing and he’s leaking enough to coat the entirety of Armin’s hand.

A glance down spells his demise: Armin’s pale hand on his rock-hard, red shaft… coated in his precum. Eren cums immediately, his hips jerking helplessly into the steady grip Armin provides.  

Armin is hypnotized by the rhythmic pulsing of Eren’s cock in the seconds before Eren explodes, spraying his essence in long, white ropes onto Armin’s stomach. He can’t take his eyes off Eren’s swollen cockhead bobbing swiftly in and out of his half-closed fist as Eren fucks it, dripping cum all the while. It’s so utterly debauched that it lights a fire in Armin’s gut, causing his hips to sway and drawing a broken, throaty groan out of him.

“Oh my god , Armin…” Eren laughs brokenly, his body trembling weakly as his cockhead drips white, milky cum over Armin’s delicate fingers. The sight is utterly pornographic, but the fact that it’s Armin’s fingers is what really makes Eren hot from head to foot. He drags his gaze back up and gently lets Armin’s legs fall back to the ground in a less stressed position.

“Shit, I told ya I was gonna cum,” he says, shaking his head with a smile. “Fuck, you’re too pretty, Minnie.”

Armin grins and chuckles shyly, staring at his cum-soaked hand as he slides it off of Eren’s cock and brings it closer to his face. That’s Eren’s essence that he’d just milked out of the boy and painted himself with… the sight of it is too beautiful for words.

“I heard you,” he mutters quietly, still too bashful to meet Eren’s gaze.

Eren feels his eyes widen slightly as he swallows the words in his mind down his throat — he thinks that if he tries to give voice to them it’ll come out sounding like a long string of plaintive whines.

Slowly, though very steadily, he brings one of his hands back to Armin’s asshole, and slips two fingers in without any ceremony.

“Hah!” Armin’s eyes pop open with shock at the intrusion, and his hips buck forward instinctively. That aching need returns with tenfold force, and his blood promptly rushes south as Eren’s fingers quickly work their way deeper into his opening. 

Eren crooks said fingers up just a little, searching and finding almost immediately that special spot inside of Armin. He feels a little more capable of speech now, and his mind is racing with how efficiently Armin had utterly ruined him. His touch on the inside of Armin’s body is almost punishingly rough, and his pace is much faster than anything he had done thus far with the boy.

With his free hand he grabs Armin’s wrist, the one connected to the hand covered in his cum. “Touch your cock, Armin,” he orders softly, his eyes never leaving Armin’s face as he guides the shimmering hand between Armin’s legs. “I wanna see you covered in me.”

“Yes, Eren.” That’s the first response that comes to Armin’s mind after Eren’s low, seductive tone rattles his whole body, and he is far past the point of censoring even his most embarrassing thoughts and reactions. 

He grabs his soaking wet shaft and keens at the white-hot bolts of pleasure that rush through his stomach. Armin watches his own slick mix with the cum on his fingers as he gingerly strokes himself, and it takes all of his willpower not to bring that hand back up to his lips and lick it clean.

Eren feels his cock twitch, stirring back to life with alarming speed. The sight alone is beautiful, but knowing that it’s his cum mixing with Armin’s arousal — that Armin is willingly marking himself with Eren’s spunk? 

Oh, that makes something deep in Eren’s chest purr with satisfaction. Something possessive and protective and untamed. “That’s so good, ‘Min — fuck, you’re bein’ so good for me, sweetheart…” He shoves his fingers a little harder, curious to see just how much Armin could take — how rough could he be?

That next wave of pleasure in Armin’s core is joined by a piercing pain that steals his breath for a heart-racing moment. He grimaces and hisses through gritted teeth — then, once the worst of it subsides, he’s left with a dull ache that mingles with the sparks floating through his body from Eren’s (much gentler) strokes of his sweet spot. It’s an unexpectedly divine cocktail of sensations that makes Armin moan and whine with salacious fervor.

“F-fuck… oh, Sina, yes…”

“Shit, you like this…” Eren says, breathless with wonder and utterly dumbstruck. He leans down and presses his lips against Armin’s in an open mouthed kiss. “You — you like it when it hurts?” he whispers wetly against the boy’s lips.

Armin yelps and flinches, inadvertently squeezing his prick and further scrambling his thoughts with the overwhelming force of the resultant pleasure. “I — ahn! — I — Walls, Eren,” he stammers uselessly. He presses his lips back onto Eren’s in a hurry, just to shut the both of them up and distract from the growing intensity of his full-body blush.

Eren smirks into the kiss, his fingers dragging against the inside of Armin’s walls and then slipping out entirely. He grips his cock, hard as steel yet again, and guides it to Armin’s hole. He sinks down to the hilt in one smooth motion. 

And Armin screams.

His free hand claws into Eren’s shoulder, and the other tightens around his red, twitching shaft. He feels impossibly full now that Eren has completely buried his cock inside of him — spreading him aggressively, possessively — and his head is spinning. It’s all that Armin can do to weakly gasp out Eren’s name while messily, frantically stroking himself.

Eren sets a relentless pace — fucking in and out of Armin like his hips are on fire and snapping them against the boy’s ass is the only way to put it out. Except, the fire keeps growing and burning… 

I’m gonna cum inside him… I’m gonna cum inside Armin…

Eren lets out something of a pained groan and the pace of his thrusts stutters for a moment as he adjusts his hold on Armin’s legs. He pins them even higher, curling Armin’s body so he can get even deeper into the boy. “Fuck! Shit, you’re so hot like this, ‘Min…” he gasps brokenly. “Gonna cum inside you — gonna — hnng! Gonna fill you up!” 

“Yes! Ahhh — agh! Please, Eren!” Armin can hardly believe how quickly his hips are moving — bucking and snapping in perfect time with Eren’s frenetic thrusts. Every nerve in his body is burning with electric passion; it’s so overpowering that he actually can’t think straight. And it feels so damn good that it brings tears to his eyes.

A sudden surge of molten-hot arousal has Armin choking on his moans. He’s really not sure how much more of this he can take — and that thought makes him feral.

“Fuck! Hah — give it to me!”

Eren bends closer to Armin’s neck, biting it sharply before sucking on the skin to leave a red mark. He’s panting so hard he can hardly get out his words right. “Hold yourself open for me, ‘Min… I wanna see you spread on my cock,” he growls darkly. 

Armin is sighing and panting too heavily to speak. He nods swiftly, reaching down to grab his trembling thighs and hold them in place. His hands are shaking so badly that he has to damn near burrow his fingernails into the flesh to maintain his grip. Walls, Eren is finally ravaging him, and Armin can tell that he’s nowhere near through with him yet…

That alone is enough to make him moan like a bitch in heat.

As soon as Eren sees Armin get a good grip on his legs he leans back, stabilizing himself on his heels as he slows his thrusts — he really wants to sear in the image in front of him.

Fuck, he can see his cock sliding in and out of Armin’s hole perfectly with the boy spread open like this — how the flesh gives and stretches under his girth. Eren doesn’t think he’s seen anything so fucking beautiful in his whole life. It easily rivals watching his dick dive into Mikasa’s pussy.

“Shit, wish you could see yourself ‘Min… look so damn good like this…” Eren sighs. He’s much too close to the edge and has to quickly decide if he needs to pull out and take a moment or if he should just give it his all for the… oh, ten seconds or so he’s got left. “How, hnng, how close are you?”

The question draws all of Armin’s attention to the almost painful tension that had been building up in his groin. He’d made a valiant effort not to focus too much on it so as not to work himself up too quickly, but with his hand on his dick and Eren’s cock pounding relentlessly into his most sensitive spots, there was only so much that he could do.

Armin bites his lip and casts his gaze to the side. “V-very close,” he stammers. 

Eren lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He leans back over Armin and slips a finger under the boy’s chin to guide his eyes up to his own. “Good,” he says with a smile, dipping to kiss Armin sweetly. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’re screaming and cumming all over your stomach, and then fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum.”

He plants his hands down and thrusts hard enough to jolt Armin’s whole body. 

Armin drops his legs and clings to Eren for dear life, filling the air with a chorus of unholy cries and shrieks. Every brutal thrust of Eren’s cock strums that impossibly taut cord deep within him, pulling it tauter and tauter. He starts seeing stars. The burning in his core is dizzying. It’s all too much, and it hurts so good.

Armin squeals when suddenly, without warning, the cord finally breaks, and he squeezes around Eren’s shaft hard enough to bruise. His prick sprays like a fountain onto his stomach and Eren’s, releasing pearly white spunk in quick, heavy spurts. Armin’s whole body quakes, back arching and hips jerking sloppily. His eyes roll back and his mouth hangs open, pouring out a long string of scandalous groans.

Armin’s orgasm squeezes the life out of Eren’s dick yet somehow he hasn’t cum just yet — he can feel it tugging his balls up and burning low in his gut. It’s imminent and he needs to have his mouth on Armin’s when it happens. 

But for the five seconds that he can, he looks down at the hypnotic, erotic, and stupefying sight of Armin cumming from his cock, and groans. “Oh my god, Armin… oh fuck, you’re cumming…” It feels redundant to say it out loud but Eren is burning inside and out from the sight and the fact that he just made Armin cum. 

He watches the pulses taper off and his orgasm is right there. Quickly, he moves to press an open-mouthed kiss on Armin’s slack lips, dipping his tongue in to lick at Armin’s. “Gonna — gonna cum… nhh — hah !” With one final thrust he buries himself to the hilt and spills. 

Armin slides his tongue over Eren’s hungrily, keening shamelessly into the kiss. Walls, he can taste the boy’s arousal, and it’s intoxicating. Then he feels it as it shoots into his depths — it’s warm and wet, and it sticks to him, marking him. Eren pushes his cum further inside of Armin with each slow thrust, like Eren means to breed him. Armin feels so deeply, completely claimed by Eren, and he’s sure that nothing has ever made him swoon harder in his life.

Eren’s hips jerk a few more times in oversensitivity, but he’s not interested in pulling out just yet. He’s struggling to prop himself up though, not wanting to fall and crush Armin, but also not quite able to trust that his arms will hold him up any longer.

“Wow… um… fuck.” Eren blinks a few times and feels his vision blur a little with tears. “Sina, Armin…” He grins wetly, a few of those tears dripping down his cheeks. “Fuck, I love you…”

That look of unbridled joy on Eren’s face breaks Armin — he sobs audibly as he smiles back widely and sweetly, his misty blue eyes staring adoringly into Eren’s. “I love you too,” he chokes out before leaning up to kiss Eren once more, slowly and passionately. “Sina, that felt so good, Eren…”

Carefully, because he really can’t hold himself up any more, Eren shifts to curl up by Armin’s side, taking care to keep himself still sheathed within the boy — somehow it would feel wrong to pull out now. 

Maybe it’s due to that untamed, feral little cur inside Eren that’s just begging him to ensure his cum gets fully absorbed into the boy’s body. I want to be so deep inside you that you’ll never get me out — I want to be in your blood, in your body, in your mind… 

Certain he won’t slip out with how tightly his legs are interwoven with Armin’s, Eren wraps both his arms around the boy and pulls him close, breathing in the sweet smell of his hair. “Yeah — heh — it really did.” 

Armin sighs with deep gratitude, leaning his head back against Eren’s face and swiping at the tears that stream down his face with the heel of his palm. He feels silly for crying still, but he really can’t help it. Everything about the raw, wild, intimate moment that he’d just shared with Eren… it was beautiful. It was safe and freeing and absolutely euphoric. It was everything that he’d hoped for.

Armin’s heart is on the verge of bursting, it’s so full of love for this boy.

“Sorry,” he mutters on instinct, and then he tries his best to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m okay. I’m… I’m more than okay, really…”

Eren laughs a little weakly, disbelief and adoration making his voice break. He cups Armin’s face up to kiss the boy’s wet cheeks, tasting the salt and feeling high knowing these were tears of joy and pleasure. 

“Was it — was it everything you —” Eren catches himself and bites his lip, suddenly shy. “Well, if you did think about it. Was it like you thought it’d be?”

If — Armin can’t help but chuckle at that word. He’s had more thoughts about making love to Eren than there are blades of grass in the earth, and he blushes darkly at the thought of how horrified Eren would be if he knew that.

Or… or maybe he wouldn’t?

Armin looks up at Eren through his lashes as his smile softens. “It was somehow even better,” he sighs, and he kisses Eren sweetly on the cheek.

Eren’s cock twitches slightly inside of Armin, and it makes him blush darkly with mild mortification. “Oh? So — you’ve thought of this? Of um, us doing this?” he prods carefully.

Armin’s hips squirm when he feels Eren’s cock move inside him, and he swallows a soft moan before it can surface. He has to look away from Eren before speaking: “I… yes, I did. More often than I’m really willing to admit.”

Eren’s hold on Armin’s body tightens infinitesimally. “I — I did too…” he breathes softly, hiding his words in Armin’s blond hair. “For… a long time. Years.” 

Armin’s breath promptly lodges in his throat. He’s sure he didn’t hear that correctly.

“Did you say… years?”

Eren feels his face burn and his heart is thumping far too fast to let him breathe right. He hides his face closer to Armin’s hair and nods once. 

That wordless answer rattles Armin’s heart. His blood starts racing through his veins. His brain still refuses to process what Eren has just told him, because it sounds too good to be true. Over all of that time, despite the countless adventures and misadventures that Eren has had with much more interesting and experienced partners — somehow, he of all people had managed to stay on Eren’s mind like that?

Armin grips Eren’s wrist with one hand and squeezes it with a shaky grip. “You… you really thought of me the way that I’ve thought of you all along?”

Eren feels a little puzzled by Armin’s shock. Of all people, the boy should have been the first to notice and know Eren’s reasoning for never initiating their relationship… right?  

Maybe he doesn’t know…  

Eren pulls back from his hiding spot in Armin’s pretty hair and tips Armin’s face upwards so that he could get a better read on the boy’s thoughts when he speaks. “Armin, I’ve wanted to do this since the day me and Mikasa first had sex. You — you know why I didn’t, right?”

Armin stares up at Eren, a dizzying mix of awe and bewilderment swimming in his eyes. Suddenly he isn’t so sure that he knows…

He frowns and lowers his gaze. “I… I thought that after things didn’t go so well with her, you started looking for partners with more experience. People who could… well, keep up with you.” He pauses, chewing absently on the inside of his lip. “And by the time I’d started getting interested in you like that, you were so far ahead of me that I couldn’t keep up…”

Eren blinks a few times, scouring his brain for memories of… oh.

Armin wasn’t completely wrong, just he was seeing only part of the picture. “Me and Mikasa still do it sometimes… well um, before… before Jean.” 

Oh god why did he have to say Jean’s name?  

Quick as he can, Eren rushes his thoughts out, hoping to bury his boyfriend’s name under everything else. “I’ve been with plenty of people who didn’t have a lot of experience, it’s not a big deal — honestly you shouldn’t even be worried about it, you kept up with me better than a lot of others. You did — you did really fucking good actually. I’m kinda surprised.” 

Armin’s breath hitches at Eren’s praise; the heat of his blush is searing his skin. “You really thought so?”

Playfully, Eren thrusts his hips a little; he’s mostly soft, mostly . But the gesture is what he was aiming for, more than the feeling. “Yes, I thought so, Minnie… you moved so fuckin’ well with me. Most people in their first go don’t really know how to move their hips like you did.” He grins cheekily and presses a soft kiss to Armin’s cheek before trailing up to his ear and nipping at it. “You moved like a perfect little slut.” 

Armin knows that he should be offended by that name. But that criminally sexy lilt in Eren’s voice as he whispers it into his ear — Walls, it makes him hot all over. He presses his thighs closer together and whimpers softly, flinching at how pathetically desperate he sounds. “Er-Eren!” he hisses, though his voice is too breathy to sound as miffed as he wants to.

“Oh, fuck , Armin…” Eren groans a little as heat suddenly swims violently through his blood. “I don’t — shit I don’t think I have another one in me, you gotta stop making those sounds… Walls, I think if I get hard again I won’t be able to walk.” 

“What?” Armin feels bad for laughing at Eren’s dramatics because he knows that Eren is at least half-serious about that worry. “Then you’ve got to stop teasing me like that,” he counters while fiddling with his hair. “I’m — I’m really not used to hearing things like that, remember?”

Slowly, deviously, Eren slips a hand down between their bodies to fondle Armin’s cock. “Sorry, I really really can’t help myself, ‘Min…” he croons. “You just — fuck, you turn me on so much. Always did —” His words get muffled as he presses them to Armin’s neck. “Wanted to fuck you since we were kids. Just… didn’t wanna hurt you. Didn’t wanna show you how — didn’t want you to see this side of me I guess.” He stops fondling the boy but doesn’t let go, cupping him warmly. “I wanted to protect you, Armin.” 

Time slows to an excruciating crawl as those quiet, fragile words echo in Armin’s head. He cradles them there, holding them like he’s terrified to drop and shatter them. He can feel it immediately — the deep sense of duty and care of which Eren speaks — he feels it wrap around his heart like a warm blanket and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to cry again. He wishes there were words that could accurately name what Eren feels for him, what he feels for Eren in return. ‘Love’ simply doesn’t feel strong enough.

But Armin can’t ignore the faint, sickly feeling that slithers through his stomach at the same time. His body feels brittle in Eren’s tight hold, like it will simply crumble to dust if Eren loosens that hold even a little bit…

He can’t fucking stand it.

“I… I’m grateful for your thoughtfulness, Eren, I really am…” Armin’s hand slides over Eren’s free hand, gripping it firmly and stroking it gingerly with his thumb. “But I’m a bit lost. What we did together just now… it was so beautiful.” He silently curses the tears that well up in his eyes. “So why did I need to be protected from it?”

Eren feels his brain freeze a little at the question. What did he try to protect Armin from? The answer comes in memories, snippets, broken thoughts that intruded in moments otherwise peaceful. 

Against his will, Eren remembers the night he and Jean first kissed — he remembers now, distantly, throwing his hand over Jean’s throat… squeezing…

“I — before Jean, I wasn’t very good at controlling myself during sex. Especially with boys. I was worried I’d hurt you,” he admits softly. 

“Oh…” Armin’s blood runs cold at the unspoken implications of that admission, and his frown deepens. “Is that why you refused to talk about some of those encounters that seemed to really freak you out? You… you didn’t want me to know what you’d done to those boys?”

Eren pouts a little, glancing away. “I didn’t permanently do any damage…” A certain redhead pops to mind and he bites his lip. “I don’t think so at least…” 

He sighs and moves to sit up, letting go of Armin’s admittedly very nice cock in the process, his own finally slipping out from the boy’s ass. “Ah, shit gotta clean you out, that’s not gonna be comfy.”

“Uh — r-right, yes…” Armin moves to sit up as well, his stomach feeling rather unsettled after Eren had so abruptly dropped the subject. Was that question too direct? Was that not the right time to ask about it at all?

He quickly shakes his head to rid it of those unanswerable questions. Right now he has to focus on getting decent, and quickly. Armin has completely lost track of time, which means that for all he knows, the rest of their squad could be mere minutes away from finding them here…

Eren stands up and stretches; he feels good obviously . He hadn’t had a proper fuck like that in a good long while — he still needs to work Jean up to fucking him and progress is slow in that department. 

Ah shit , Jean.  

Eren moves to his backpack and finds a spare clean towelette which he takes as well as the waterskin bag. There’s no use in worrying what he’ll say to Jean. After this trip is over he’ll sit his boyfriend down and have a proper conversation about his feelings for Armin and Mikasa — he’ll help Jean understand their bond, and see that it doesn’t at all challenge Eren’s love for him. 

It’ll be quiet and easy and above all — will not happen in this damn cave. 

He moves back to Armin and kneels down in front of the boy’s legs, holding out his offerings. “Hey, ‘Min? Let me help clean you out, okay? I’ll show you how I usually do it — trust me, you don’t wanna have cum leaking out of you when we ride back to camp, heh.” 

“Of course not,” Armin huffs, his lips caught somewhere between a grimace and a reluctant smile. He takes the towelette and the waterskin bag from Eren, holding both in one hand and moving to open the waterskin with the other. “So I’ll wet this towel, and then what?”

Eren grins and takes the moistened cloth from Armin. “Then you’re gonna spread your legs for me so I can mop you up, silly.” 

“Eren!” Armin instinctively closes his legs and draws them in closer to his body, a fierce blush spreading over his face. He immediately feels silly for doing the opposite of what he’s supposed to do — so he takes a deep breath as he slowly stretches his legs out again. “Eren, we — we need to stay calm right now, okay?” he sighs shakily.

The boy in question is much too busy staring at the gorgeous sight of Armin parting his legs like a lotus bloom to pay much attention to what he’s saying — but he quickly jerks his head up with a grin once the words sink in. “Somehow, if you were in my place, I don’t think you’d be able to stay calm either, ‘Min.” 

Tenderly, he brings the cloth down around Armin’s stomach, first cleaning up the mess of cum that was entirely the blond’s fault. He’s both gentle and deft in his motions. Then he slowly drags the towel lower and makes a circular motion closing in on Armin’s hole — still with the express intent of cleaning the boy up, but now… the visual demands he take his time. 

Armin intently follows the path of the cloth with his eyes; his face flushes deeper as he watches his body lean into Eren’s gentle ministrations. When the sight of it starts putting too many butterflies in his stomach, Armin’s gaze shifts to Eren’s face, and the boy’s beautifully focused, admiring stare only riles him up further. He figures he should look away completely, so he doesn’t pop another boner that Eren will want to pounce on, but he just… he can’t.

Eren is too damn pretty.

Finally done with cleaning the surrounding skin, Eren sits back on his heels and gazes at the shiny clean skin around Armin’s pink puckered hole. He swallows thickly and mentally begins to count by twos to keep himself from getting another erection. 

“Okay — um… so now I’ve gotta — clean you out from the inside…” he breathes, mostly to himself because, how the hell is he supposed to do that without getting hard? He glances up at the cave wall and takes a deep breath before returning his gaze with newfound resolve to Armin’s asshole. “I — I’m gonna need you to try and squeeze the cum out first — try to push it out.” 

That does it — Armin’s preemptive shame yanks his gaze down to the ground. “Oh — uh — I, um — yeah, okay, I’ll…”

Armin has to shut his eyes completely, so that he can try to pretend Eren isn’t there, but he can still feel Eren’s gaze on his spread legs and his abused hole and Walls it’s painfully mortifying. He takes another slow, deep breath, and it does absolutely nothing to calm his pounding heart. Distantly, it crosses his mind that he doesn’t have time to feel this panicked.

Then it hits him: all he has to do is push slowly, so that even if he starts passing gas or finds that he needs to take a shit he can at least stop himself before anything truly horrific happens.

Armin grimaces and moans softly as he gradually contracts his inner walls, focusing on the feeling of Eren’s essence sliding out of him in a long stream. He can’t bear the thought of opening his eyes and actually witnessing such a debauched and filthy sight…

But he has a sick feeling that Eren hasn’t taken his eyes off his hole, and that makes him hot.

Eren waits with bated breath. He’s almost disturbed by how perverted his desire to see Armin push out his cum is… almost. But the subtle flutters of the puckered entrance are enough to make his eyes widen, and the drooling lines of white cum are enough to make him drop the rag.

Sina , he literally bred the boy. 

Distantly he thinks he should offer Armin some words of comfort — the boy is no doubt mortified and probably terrified. Eren remembers all too well similar feelings his first time years ago now. 

But his mouth is so dry and his throat is so tight… it’s all he can do to remember to breathe! Oh, fuck! How is the boy dripping?

Eren does the next best thing and runs his hands soothingly up and down Armin’s legs, gently and firmly. Reminding him that he’s here and hoping that is a comforting presence to Armin. 

It most certainly is — the tenderness of Eren’s touch melts the tension out of Armin’s trembling thighs, and he takes his first decent breath since he started pushing. He practically mewls on the exhale. “Th-thank you for that…” He contracts a little tighter, and his stomach flips when another wet, sticky stream of cum lurches out of him. “I — I think I got most of it…”

Eren remembers that he does in fact know how to use words — he should probably say something. “ Ireallywannalickyouclean… ”

Oh, well that wasn’t right. 

Eren flushes a dark red and his hands squeeze a little on Armin’s legs as he struggles to take a steady breath in. “Um — yeah. I guess I’ll um… fucking walls you’re so hot, Armin! ” Eren whines, pressing his face against one of Armin’s propped up knees. 

Nervous laughter bubbles up in Armin’s chest before bursting out of his mouth and shaking his whole body. “Eren, stop, seriously!” He hides his face behind his hands, pressing the heels of his palms onto his lips to muffle his breathy giggles. There’s only so much praise that Armin can take at one time and Eren is seriously pushing his limits here.

“I’ll stop when you stop being so fuckin’ pretty!” Eren laughs weakly, his face beet-red as he pops up to look at Armin’s breathtakingly delightful face — disappointingly but not unexpectedly, the boy has it covered under his hands. It’s damn adorable but not what Eren wants to see. He sighs contently, and drags one of his hands up Armin’s body slowly, luxuriating in the silky feeling of his sex-blushed skin, until he is able to wrap his fingers around one of the boy’s delicate wrists.

“Hey, look at me, ‘Min…” he whispers softly, smiling through the nearly painful warmth in his chest. 

Eren’s adorably playful tone gives Armin pleasant chills. He allows Eren to guide his one hand by the wrist away from his face, grinning giddily and biting the corner of his lip while peeking through the fingers of his other hand. He finds a look of utterly boyish glee on Eren’s face, and it makes his heart ache with unfettered affection. Armin wishes that he could see this look on Eren every day…

Oh, if only —

“Eren! Armin!”

The loud voice echoes off the walls of the cave, as do the sounds of frantic, pounding footsteps. Armin turns pale as snow, his muscles going rigid as horror twists his expression.

Eren’s face mirror’s Armin’s horror and he barely manages to whip the blanket from under the blond boy, tossing it haphazardly over his exposed body before he turns around and —

— oh, fuck …

Jean.

He stands frozen in front of them, eyes suddenly devoid of all light. They’re fixed on Eren, but Jean is staring through him, past him — like he barely recognizes the boy. 

“Jean! Jean, wait up!” More fast footsteps slap against the wet mud and rush towards the cave entrance. Marco is the first one there, quickly followed by Mikasa and Floch. “Did — did you find them?” Marco pants, not yet seeing the others… until he does.

“Eren, Armin?” Mikasa’s eyes widen and she freezes right alongside Marco in cold shock. 

Floch is about to yell at Jean again to answer Marco’s question, but the scene in front of them promptly shuts him up. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he mutters under his breath, taking a step back to hide behind Marco.

Slowly — ever so slowly — Jean curls his hands into tight fists. The light is returning to his eyes, but it’s red. Finally, Jean parts his lips to speak, and his words roll out in a low, murderous growl:

“Eren… what the fuck have you done?”

Chapter Text

Time jump back two hours earlier…

It’s cold, wet, and there’s a punishingly sharp wind that feels like an insulting slap each time it springs the rain onto Jean’s face. The faint howling from the cliffs make his ears ring with annoying persistence, and the rushing roar of the river downstream only adds to the cacophony surrounding him — and yet none of these things puts a damper on the warmth in Jean’s chest.

 It’s all thanks to Mikasa — her gifts of warm gloves and comforting conversation have worked wonders for keeping his morale up on this miserable journey. He’s always enjoyed the sweetness of her soft smile, always been impressed by her perceptiveness and thoughtfulness — and he never expected her to be the type who could bounce off his playful banter but Walls, she makes it work so well.

Jean can’t ignore the stirring in his chest that intensifies the longer he thinks about her. He wants to tell himself it’s nothing more than strong admiration, so he doesn’t have to feel any type of way about basking in the warmth of her company, but it’s a rather flimsy excuse, so it doesn’t stick. He’s felt this stirring ever since he first met the girl at the start of training — when the sight of her beauty and the sound of her voice damn near knocked him off his feet.

At the very, very least, Jean can admit that he still has a crush on Mikasa. Or, to whatever extent it had faded over the years, it’s resurfacing now with a surprising intensity. But he’s taken now — he has a whole boyfriend — which means that he cannot be entertaining serious feelings for other people. As nice as it feels to get lost in them, it wouldn’t be fair to Eren to sideline him like that. Not when he’d promised to put Eren first by making their relationship official.

He’s about to look over his shoulder for Eren, who’s riding just behind Mikasa, but a sudden, powerful gust of wind forces Jean’s head down. He hears a loud snapping sound, followed by a heavy thud and the rustling of leaves somewhere behind him. Some of the horses start huffing and whinnying, and then a high, bloodcurdling scream rings through the air.

“ Armin! ” Eren’s panicked voice shatters out — carrying quickly through the air until, not a second later, Marco’s sharp, barking order freezes the reactions of the others:

“Don’t Mikasa!”

It’s so much frenzied noise, and it unfolds quicker than Jean can process it. With gritted teeth and a racing heart, Jean turns in his saddle, and to his horror, he sees both Eren and Armin hurtling down the cliffside to the river below.

“Eren!” he shouts, choking on his panic. He whips around fast enough to strain his neck just so he can shout towards the front of the line: “Fuck — Marco, we’ll lose ‘em!”

“We can’t risk it, Jean!” Marco is equally panicked and is turned around in his saddle as well, watching the other two boys tumble down with white fear in his wide eyes. “The horses can’t make it down that slope and we’ll have no way of getting them back up!” He throws a hand up into his wet hair and curses. 

“Then we’ll follow them downriver!” Mikasa yells from behind Jean, her voice carrying powerfully though with considerable strain. “Jean, grab my horse — I’m going to ride Eren’s and lead Armin’s down!” Mikasa jumps off, not even needing to wait and see if Jean will listen. 

Jean grabs her horse’s reins without hesitation; his heart rate calms down significantly now that Mikasa has set something in motion to rescue their boys. “You heard her,” he yells at Marco, “let’s move!”

Marco sits frozen in his saddle for a moment too long, and Jean wants to leap off his saddle and slap the boy for hesitating at such a critical moment. Eren and Armin are drowning right now — what the fuck are you still thinkin’ about?

“Hey! Downriver, Marco!” Floch beats Jean to the punch — he repeatedly waves his arm forward, glaring daggers at Marco. “We don’t have time; we’re losing sight of them!”

Floch’s voice snaps Marco back into action and he grits his teeth, kicking his horse forward and setting a faster pace despite the dangerous slippery path. “We can’t go downriver from here, but if we head forward for a bit longer the ground will level down and we can turn back to follow them. We’ve gotta trust that Eren will be able to rescue Armin. We have no other choice!” 

“Alright!” Floch kicks his horse and follows quickly behind Marco. “Let’s not keep him waiting!”

Marco heeds Floch’s demand and leads the four of them down the winding muddy path as quickly as his horse can without slipping — though it is a very near thing. It takes them nearly seven minutes to reach the bottom of the cliff going opposite the river’s stream and then they come face to face with another horrific problem. 

The river had swollen up with the surplus of water from the rain and where there might have been a chance at crossing it a few hours ago — the rapid moving waters are in no way safe to cross at this spot. 

Marco curses as the rest of his squad catches up and sees the problem. “We’re going to need to head further upriver… We can’t risk crossing here, the horses will slip and drown.” 

Jean glares at the rushing flood-waters, shuddering at the thought of how deep the river now runs. Not that it should matter — Eren is strong, he can keep himself afloat — but he’s still only human…

He shakes his head and tugs hard on his horse’s reins. “Then let’s get moving!” he shouts over the din of the rain. “The flooding will only get worse from here on out!”

Marco’s face pinches and loses some of its color. “I — I don’t know where we can cross!” He admits through his agonizing embarrassment — if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with being angry at Eren he might have remembered his duty as a squad leader to check in with Armin for the maps. The hindsight makes him want to drown unironically in his shame. 

“Armin would have marked that down on his maps, right?” Floch asks from behind Jean. “He didn’t fall into the river with all of them, did he?”

“I have one!” Mikasa butts in suddenly, a look of surprise and relief painted on her face as she opens the flaps on the side-satchel connected to Eren’s horse. Then she realizes quickly why the map is not there. “Wait, no — it’s… Jean! The map is in my horse’s satchel —”

“On it!” Jean is already guiding Mikasa’s horse closer to him as she speaks. Once he lines it up next to his own, he throws the side-satchel open and swiftly fishes out the map. Marco walks his horse backwards up alongside Jean so he can read the map as well, holding up an edge of his cloak to shield it from the worst of the rain while Jean opens it up.

“Alright — looks like there’s a spot about a kilometer up from here that should be shallow enough — it’s uphill so the worst of the flooding should be here —” Marco makes a soft jab at the spot marked with the lower elevation before tracing back up to the crosshatch at the shallower spot. “If we push it, we can get there in a few minutes.” 

He moves back from Jean with a sigh of relief and turns gratefully to Mikasa. “Thank you for keeping a copy — let’s get going.” 

The cadets kick their horses into a swift gallop, following the curves of the river up toward higher ground, opposite the flow of the water and growing further and further from where Eren and Armin fell. Jean’s gaze is locked onto their forward path; he’s fully absorbed in the work of steering his and Mikasa’s horses through the mud, so much so that he barely hears the howling wind and rain anymore. 

Mikasa is riding right alongside him and her face is similarly lasered in on their path. She’s shivering but it doesn’t seem to stem from the cold. If anything, the grip she has on Eren’s horse’s reins and on the reins of Armin’s horse only get tighter and steadier as they gallop forward. Her scarf is the only thing protecting her from the bite of the wind as her hood has slipped down somewhere between their quick descent from the cliff and their fast-paced chase up the riverbank. 

They don’t take long before they reach the crest of the hill and the spot where the river’s rapidly rising waters calm enough to ensure a safe crossing. Marco pulls his horse up to the edge of the water, breaking her just at the lip of the bank. “I’m going in first, wait for my signal before crossing!” he shouts, voice booking no room for arguments. 

Slowly, Marco coaxes the animal in, one hoof at a time. She starts up when the water reaches her knees but Marco forces himself to croon softly into her ear and calm her enough to push forward. As soon as he’s halfway through the river he turns in his saddle to wave over the rest of his squad. “Take it slow! Especially you Jean, Mikasa’s horse is flighty in the water!”

“Got it!”

Jean eases his horse into a slow walk, guiding it into the water and gently pulling on the reins of Mikasa’s horse to get it to follow. As soon as the latter horse’s hooves make contact with the water, it starts and rears up, turning away from Jean to retreat.

“Hey, easy there!” Jean has to tug hard on the reins to steer the horse back; he then reaches over to gently stroke its neck. “Easy… you’re alright…”

The petting and the soothing words quickly calm the horse, and Jean manages to guide it a few careful steps forward…

“How are you doing that —” Mikasa mutters with shock. She’s struggling to coax Eren’s stubborn stallion even a meter into the water and Armin’s horse has already pranced ahead; she’s barely managing to hold the eager colt back. 

Her mare is now standing in the water, but it’s snorting anxiously and shuffling its hooves up and down. Jean figures it doesn’t like how uneven and slippery the riverbed is. He scratches it behind its ear while softly crooning more words of comfort, and then he nudges his own horse with his heel to coax it a few steps forward. 

He walks his mare right in front of Mikasa’s, slow and steady. “See? We’re okay,” he coos with a smile on his face, and then he gently pulls on the reins of Mikasa’s mare once more. “You can do it, girl; c’mon!”

It takes a few more words of encouragement, but soon Mikasa’s mare is taking cautious but steady forward steps through the water. Jean sighs with relief, feeling quite proud of his animal-handling work.

Eren’s stallion has clearly been eavesdropping because he starts nosing forward as well, independent of Mikasa’s lackluster motivation. It doesn’t take long before the eager horse is knee-deep along with Jean’s mare, snorting with success. 

“I — I’m not even going to try and understand how you did that,” Mikasa says darkly, tugging slightly on Armin’s colt to keep him from jumping forward too much. 

The frustration in Mikasa’s voice makes Jean giddy — he’s thrilled to have outdone the girl at the top of their class, even if only for these three minutes. “I can show you a thing or two when we —” he starts, and then his heart leaps into his throat when he remembers where they need to be going. Marco is already on the other side of the river — they need to catch up quickly.

“Just give her some more slack, okay?” Jean says to Mikasa over his shoulder as he continues walking his two mares through the water.

Mikasa nods once, her jaw tightening as she also spots Marco on the other side of the river. The two of them manage somehow to drag the four horses to the bank and as soon as their hooves are on muddy ground Marco rounds his mare on them. 

“We’re going to need to take the path outside the woods, it will be quicker to figure out where Armin and Eren landed if we trace the riverbank downstream.” He pauses, struggling to put together some sort of plan to better find Armin and Eren quicker but is drawing only blanks. 

Jean frowns slightly — Marco has a point, but that’s still a lot of ground for them to cover, and they don’t have the luxury of time here…

Then an idea hits him: “How about we split up the squad? Travel in pairs — one person keeps their eye on the river, and the other searches the forest. One of us is bound to run into them quicker that way.”

Marco’s face brightens considerably with the relief that Jean’s suggestion brings. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks Jean… maybe you and —”

“I’ll go with you, Marco.” Floch walks his mare up towards the squad leader, his face set with determination. “Jean and Mikasa should go together — that way I…” His expression softens, and his eyes drift toward the ground. “That way I won’t slow either of them down too much.”

Marco’s face falls a little bit but then he promptly blushes and coughs. “You’re right. Um, Mikasa and Jean, you both should go ahead. You’re better at spotting and tracking and I’d rather you both had a fresh trail to work with. Me and Floch will follow you in case you miss anything.” 

Mikasa nods once firmly and snaps her heels into Eren’s stallion to get him up into a brisk trot as she takes the riverbank side. 

“Mikasa!” Jean calls after her. “Wait a minute!”

Mikasa turns around with a puzzled frown, pulling Eren’s horse to a stubborn stop. “What is it?”

“We should hand off the unmounted horses to Marco and Floch,” Jean says as he turns to face the boys. “You guys’ll be better able to look after ‘em if you’re just following and spot-checking us.”

Marco opens his mouth but Mikasa has already doubled back and tossed Armin’s colt’s reins into his hands. “Good idea,” she says matter-of-factly, and then swiftly dismounts Eren’s stallion to hand the horse over to Floch. She then turns back and jumps smoothly onto her mare’s saddle, taking the offered reins from Jean in the same motion.

“Let’s get moving then; Jean on my left.” 

“You got it.” 

Jean gives Mikasa a nod before kicking his mare and taking off downriver. His mind races five times faster than the horse could ever hope to — so much time has passed since Eren first fell into the river. Possibly too much time. They might reach the scene of the accident and find nothing and nobody there… The thought of it makes Jean dizzy with panic.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on nightmare scenarios. Eren needs him to focus, to keep pushing forward. That’s the only way Eren makes it out of this okay.

Please be okay, Eren.

Please.

Finally, they reach the spot where Eren and Armin had first fallen down the cliff face, the long skidmarks on the muddy slope evidence of the accident… but there is no trace of the boys in the area. 

Mikasa doesn’t stop for long; a quick glance at the river’s fast-moving waters and the lack of tracks in the mud on their side of the bank is enough to spur her forward with even more determination. Anxiety threatens to darken her vision but she refuses to let go of that small kindling of hope. 

Eren is strong, Armin is smart — surely the both of them would work their way out of this. Surely…

They move somewhat slower as they follow the river downstream; Mikasa’s heart lodges firmly in her throat and her eyes are permanently glued open despite the stinging rain pelting her from every-which-way.  

It takes a good ten minutes until she suddenly spots the broken reeds and the boot-prints in the mud. “There!” she gasps, kicking her horse impatiently until she is able to reach the spot. “They got out!” 

“They did?” Jean’s scrambled mind floods with apprehensive hope. He snaps his reins and hastily steers his mare toward Mikasa’s.

His eyes snap wide open as soon as they settle on the tracks in the mud. “How far do they go?” he wonders aloud as he starts tracing the path with his gaze. His comment doesn’t go unacknowledged as Mikasa slides off her saddle to better inspect the track marks in the mud herself. She bites her lip as her brow darkens, clearly unable to make heads or tails of the direction the boot marks indicate. 

Mikasa’s long silence makes Jean too antsy to sit still in his saddle any longer; he hops off his mare and kneels down to study the tracks just as Marco and Floch catch up to them. “What the hell is in the dirt?” Floch shouts at Jean and Mikasa.

“Footprints,” Jean answers. “I think. The rain messed them up, so it’s hard to tell where they’re going…” 

“Did they —” Mikasa starts brokenly, her eyes wide and white. “Did they fall back in?”

The image flashes suddenly and vividly through Jean’s mind, making him shudder from head to toe. It’s just a possibility, he reminds himself as he shakes his head and refocuses on the tracks.

“I doubt it. If they did, we’d see a whole bunch of messier tracks going back the other way. And these ones are…” 

Jean leaps to his feet and follows their general direction for a few paces. When he turns his head up, he sees the outer edge of a dense forest several meters away. “Is that where they went? Into the trees?”

Marco pulls his horse a little forward to follow Jean’s gaze and he frowns for a moment before his face lights up. “The caves! Armin would have had most of the map memorized, so he must have remembered there being a large cave system here. I’ll bet that’s where they went to take shelter!” He turns back to Mikasa and Jean with newfound hope in his eyes. “I have a rough idea where the caves are and it shouldn’t take us more than ten minutes to reach them, the only issue is figuring out which one they’re in…” 

“That’s a much better problem to have.” Jean huffs out a laugh that’s equal parts amazed and relieved, and he scrambles to mount his mare again. “We can spread out again to search the caves once we get to ‘em, right?” he asks Marco over his shoulder.

Marco nods once and quickly averts his eyes. “Let’s get moving inland then.” No sooner does he speak than does Mikasa jump up onto her horse and snap her heels into the mare’s sides. 

“Come on Jean,” she calls, trotting quickly into the shelter of trees. “I need your ears — you’re better at picking up sounds than I am.” 

“Got it — I’m right behind you!” 

An electric surge of determination courses through Jean’s body, and he kicks his mare back into a sprint toward the trees. The sharp, crackling heat blocks out the wetness of his clothes, the chill in the wind — everything. His chest heaves with each shallow breath that he draws, unable to relax while praying to all three Walls that Eren really is alive and well in one of those caves. He needs that far more than he needs air right now.

“There!” Marco shouts suddenly, breaking through Jean’s thoughts. “To the left! That’s where the bigger caves should be!” 

Jean immediately tugs on his reins, startling his mare with the force; she careens toward the left obediently though, just where Jean steers her. Jean kicks her side hard, urging her to move faster, faster, as he weaves her wildly through the trees. 

He reaches the jagged caves in a few painfully pounding heartbeats. Soon, he picks up the soft, ringing sounds of laughter — it’s coming from a cave nearby. It has to be them, Jean thinks as he leaps off of his mare and takes off running toward the sound.

“Jean! Wait, slow down! You’ll slip!” Marco desperately calls after him, following swiftly as he can off his own mare and chasing after Jean.

Jean doesn’t hear him. He’s too locked onto his target. He needs to see with his own eyes the smile on Eren’s face that his sweet, playful laughter suggests. He needs to see —

“Eren! Armin!”

After only a few long, sprinting strides, Jean is in the belly of the cave. With a single glance, he takes in the whole scene, and then he freezes:

Eren and Armin are —

they’re —

Fuck —

They’re naked . Armin is only half-covered by that stupid blanket. Eren is bent over him. Shielding him. They’re both blushing and sweating and oh, Walls, Eren is hard.

No. That can’t be it. I have the wrong guys , Jean wants to tell himself. But they reacted when he called out their names, and now they’re staring up at him like he’s a damn twenty-meter titan. Like they’re afraid he’s going to rip them limb from limb and eviscerate them… and they...

They look guilty. Which means —

No.

No…

“Jean! Jean, wait up!” Fast footsteps slap against the wet mud and rush towards the cave entrance. Marco is the first one to reach Jean, quickly followed by Mikasa and Floch. “Did — did you find them?” Marco pants, not yet seeing the others… until he does.

Mikasa follows quickly after and she skids to a halt on Marco’s other side, gasping in a horrified breath. “Eren, Armin?” 

Floch appears too and his words catch in his throat for a moment when he sees the other two boys. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he mutters, taking a step back to hide behind Marco.

Jean’s vision blurs. His head pounds like it’s being bludgeoned by rocks. The sight in front of him is making him sick but he cannot take his eyes off it.

Eren said that he was his. Eren said that he’d be good to him. Eren said that he loves him.

And here Eren is, naked in a dark, small cave with another boy.

Jean’s blood turns to steam in his veins, it boils so fast. Slowly — ever so slowly — he pulls his fists closed, squeezing them impossibly tight. He aims his scalding gaze right into Eren’s soul. 

“Eren… what the fuck have you done?” 

“Jean —” Eren feels like his body has been plunged into an iced-over river. He thinks he’s going to cry. No, scratch that, he is crying. He’s so wrecked by his galling guilt that he half-wishes a titan would appear right now to break his stupid skull open or snap his spine and just…

He can’t think. Can barely speak.  

But he chokes out his desperate words regardless. “It — it wasn’t Armin — I —” He chokes, gasping as more ice floods his body — Jean looks ready to kill him and he’s kneeling on the cave floor, hiding his nakedness with his hands, and it’s a kind of shame Eren’s never felt in his life. 

Mikasa moves first: she walks right past Eren but doesn’t even bother looking at him, instead taking the blanket and covering Armin with it further. “Are you hurt?” she asks softly, as he looks painfully mortified. 

Armin pulls the blanket tighter around his numb, shaking body. “N-no,” he just barely chokes out as he lowers his head. He doesn’t fully believe his own words.

“That’s all you wanna say to me?” Jean spits darkly; his blood is boiling over and he’s going to explode. His gaze slides down to the hands that Eren has so pathetically shoved between his legs, and Jean wants nothing more than to take the boy’s cock and rip it right the fuck off.

So he lunges for him.

“You fucking — !”

“Jean, wait!” Marco jumps in front of the boy, grabbing Jean by his shoulders and holding him back firmly until their eyes meet. “Let’s get some air okay? Just — let’s take a breath, Jean.” 

Jean’s nostrils flare; his breaths feel like titan steam, he’s so mad, and the mollifying quality of Marco’s gaze does nothing to quell his rage. “No, back off!” he shouts while shoving Marco away. 

“Jean, I’m sorry!” Eren gasps out, flailing in his cold terror. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jean so angry and it scares him. It scares him and it hurts him so badly he thinks getting an arm ripped off would feel pleasant in comparison. “I didn’t mean —”

Jean charges forward and grabs Eren by the shoulders, piercing the flesh with his fingernails. His rough, panicked voice booms through the cave as he shakes the boy violently. “What the fuck did you do that for, huh? Why? How could you — what the fuck is wrong with you?”

This time Marco doesn’t hesitate as much — he jumps forward and wraps his arms around Jean’s waist, forcibly pulling the boy off Eren, who hasn’t stopped sobbing his excuses in panicked gasps. “Jean stop! ” Marco pleads. 

Floch dives into the space that Marco makes between Jean and Eren, pushing them further apart and kneeling directly in front of Eren who’s now sobbing so hard he can’t breathe. Floch makes the mistake of meeting Jean’s wild eyes and quickly looks away, feeling like he’s been scalded. “You hurt?” he whispers over his shoulder to Eren.

Eren breaks his wet gaze away from Jean long enough to see the short glance Floch gives him, and that is enough to make his whole body curl in on itself with shame. He pulls his knees up as his hands dive to cover his face. “Oh fuck… ” he sobs.

The sound of Eren’s pain is enough to rip Floch’s heart in two. Yes, the boy has done a truly awful thing, but he’s clearly overwhelmed by guilt for having done it. Beyond that, how much more does Eren really need to suffer?

Floch turns around and gingerly places a hand on Eren’s bare shoulder. “Hey, let’s go find your uniform, alright? Marco will calm him down; you’ll be okay.”

Eren’s hiccoughing sob is the only verbal response he can manage, but his eyes peer out from between his fingers, looking right past Floch and at the angry silhouette Marco and Jean make; the green of his irises look pale. 

Marco, as soon as he feels he can, swivels Jean around so that the enraged boy isn’t facing the evidence of Eren’s crime directly; Marco’s lucky he matches Jean’s size or such a move would prove impossible. “Jean, look at me, let’s get back to the horses, okay? That’s an order now.” 

Jean narrows his eyes at Marco — this boy seriously expects him to give a damn about their stupid pretend hierarchy right now? Eren just ripped his heart out of his chest — the fucking moron just couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for even one hour — and now even Floch has the nerve to coddle Eren like he’s the victim?

No. Eren deserves to stay naked. Exposed and ashamed. He deserves to cry and wail like a bitch while he’s being ripped apart for being such a dirty fucking —

“Marco. I will not let him off that easy.” He catches Marco’s forearm in a vice grip, twisting it roughly. He imagines wrenching Eren’s arms behind his back and bending them until they snap. Then he’ll bash Eren’s knees in — pulverize them. That way the bitch won’t be able to run or struggle while Jean crushes those fucking whorish balls under his feet.

Marco swallows down the gut-punch of fear that bubbled up in his throat at the sight of Jean so furious. He doesn’t like the look of it at all — it’s terrifying. He glances down at where Jean is twisting his arm and feels the pain, but doesn’t quite register it in the numb shock of Jean’s rage. 

He forces himself to look back at Jean and steels his nerves against the infernos blazing in the boy’s golden eyes. “You won’t be letting him off easy, Jean. We just need to get moving right now — we’ll deal with this back at HQ.” He dares to dart his gaze back to the interior of the cave, spotting Mikasa helping Armin into his damp clothes while wearing a look between anger and pity, and sees Floch pushing Eren’s clothes at him too. 

His stomach twists with guilty pleasure at seeing the boy’s face soaked in tears and he feels sick with himself. “Let’s get the horses, Jean.” 

Jean’s hand trembles as his grip on Marco’s tightens further. The scalding heat of his rage is making him dizzy; he’s panting and sweating with hot and cold flashes like he’s gotten a severe fever and is drowning in his own panicked, agonized wrath. He doesn’t understand how everyone else can be so fucking calm after walking in on this bullshit. If he stays in this cave any longer, watching the rest of them dance around like all this is nothing, he’s going to hurt someone really bad.

So he throws Marco’s arm down and storms out of the cave. “Can’t fucking believe you all,” he mutters darkly under his breath.

Marco follows him quickly, leaving the other four alone in the cave. Eren’s crying is not quite as loud anymore — but the tears haven’t stopped flowing one bit. Mikasa wishes she could feel some compassion for him, but she’s angrier than she ever remembers being in her life. She quite nearly rips Armin’s shirt before handing it to the boy, only remembering at the last minute that Armin doesn’t need to see how furious she is — the poor boy looks broken enough as it is. 

She’s about to pass him his underwear, and then feels something curdle in her gut when the blanket moves and there’s a little puddle under Armin of something white. Her stomach churns.  

“Armin…”

The boy’s lifeless eyes suddenly widen with panic. Now that Mikasa has seen the mess between his legs, there’s very little that can be left to the imagination about what he and Eren have done. And that mortifies him — he buries his face in his knees, unwilling to face the disappointment that he’s sure is in Mikasa’s eyes. How else would she feel after finding out that he’d willingly participated in such an awful act of betrayal?

Armin’s silence, combined with the dark pall that fell over his face, tells Mikasa all she needs to know about exactly what act he and Eren had done — and somehow… It makes this entire situation that much worse. She tries to not let her anger at Eren leak through her movements, but it’s hard.  

She moves the blanket to the side before (somewhat forcefully) straightening out Armin’s legs and sliding on his underwear. They are damp and she knows it will be uncomfortable, but she reasons that being naked like this is infinitely worse for the boy. “Are you — are you still leaking?” she asks before pulling the undergarment almost all the way up. 

“I… don’t think so…”

Whether or not that’s true, Armin has no idea — his body is growing too numb. But he can’t take another moment of being exposed like this, so he takes the waistband of his underwear in his own hands and lifts his hips so he can slide it on the rest of the way. A wave of nausea knocks him back down to the ground, and he has to choke back another broken sob. He prays that Mikasa doesn’t draw attention to it.

“Alright.” Mikasa thinks she might very well punch Eren for doing this, and she’s not prone to doing that often. Of all the boys he could have cheated on Jean with… he chose Armin? The one boy who’d be most affected? Their Armin? 

There’s another part of her heart which aches for a very different reason — Armin was supposed to be… it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. “Are you okay to ride? Do — does it hurt?” Mikasa sends a prayer to Maria that Eren, at the very least, had the decency to take his time with Armin. 

Armin wants to feel grateful for Mikasa’s concern, but the undertones of anger in her voice are only making him feel more ill. “I can ride,” he says flatly while staring listlessly at the ground. “I’m okay. I’m…”

The sound of wet boots enters the cave again and Marco appears at the entrance. “Guys, let’s get moving. There’s a break in the rain and we can make a good headway if we set out now.” His voice is steady and calm and he addresses Floch more than anyone else, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Armin or Eren.

Floch gives Marco a nod and then turns back to Eren, grabbing his forearm and tugging him toward the cave’s entrance. “You heard him — let’s get you back on your horse.”

Eren’s pale face drains further into a look of dread but he can’t quite put up enough effort to withstand Floch’s guiding arm. “No. No… I can’t go — Floch… He’s — he’s gonna kill me! ”

Marco watches Eren pass him by the corner of his eye and the boy’s panicked voice makes him sick to his stomach… It’s incredibly satisfying. “Yeah… and you kinda deserve that,” Marco mutters.

Floch shudders at those words and stops dead in his tracks. He gets the anger and the frustration, he does… but Walls, that feels like a little much.

“No — nobody’s gonna kill anyone, and we’ll all make it back to HQ safe and sound.” Floch doesn’t dare to face Eren while he gently strokes the inside of Eren’s wrist with his thumb. “Okay? You’ll be okay…”

Eren doesn’t respond. His face is about three shades paler after Marco’s comment and his lips are sealed in a very thin line. The streaks of red on his face haven’t quite dried but he’s no longer crying. He’s a bit past that stage. 

As soon as Mikasa sees that Armin is dressed she moves to grab his pack and slings it over her shoulder before taking the boy’s hand gently into her own. “Let’s get going then. You’re riding with me okay?” 

Mikasa’s gentle grasp pours a soothing balm over Armin’s aching heart. His stomach lurches at how little he deserves such relief. He nods and follows Mikasa out of the cave, walking a little bit behind her so that he can swipe new tears off his face without her seeing.

***

He wishes it would rain. At least then he wouldn’t be able to see so clearly the faces of each one of his friends. At least then he could pretend that the wet marks on Armin’s face were the fault of some unheavenly downpouring. 

Eren curses at himself; curses everything. The bottom of his stomach has twisted itself into a dense metal knot and it sits heavy in his body. Each minute that goes by as they ride from forest to open plain feels like an eternity in his head. 

Sina, I fucked up so bad…  

He keeps looking at the back of Jean’s head wishing he could read the boy’s mind while simultaneously being so grateful that he can’t. How did it get to this point? How did he lose sight of his fidelity to Jean? Had it really only taken an hour alone with Armin? Less than that? 

Oh fuck… Armin…

The sound of the horses’ hooves is deafening in the wake of the storm, and it fills Eren’s head with an echoing thrum to his own heartbeat. 

His heart feels like it’s being shredded. Like it’s being impaled and shredded. Like it’s no longer a thing that beats for him to live but a thing that aches and stings and burns.  

Oh fuck… what have I done?

Chapter Text

They reach Headquarters ten at night, and no one else is there. Commander Shadis is in his office and, at the knock, opens the door with an irritated groan.

“Who in their right mind is —”

“Reporting back from our mission, Commander,” Marco announces. He’s dragged Floch with him because Jean and literally everyone else is in no fit state to see the Commander. He doesn’t quite wait for the formalities as he’s exhausted himself; they rode for twelve hours straight. 

“We have our mission report, the route map, and the proof of objective here,” he says as he shoves the papers in front of the bleary-eyed man.

Shadis takes the parchments, damp and crinkled and blinks a few times. Slowly. “I see. And the rest of your squad is?”

“They had my permission to head to their respective bunks after debriefing. Forster offered to vouch for me.” 

Shadis turns to Floch and squints. “And? You’d vouch for him? These papers aren’t forged, faked or otherwise misleading?”

“Yes, sir.” Floch catches himself shying away a bit from the Commander’s intense stare and immediately straightens his spine. Walls, he’s too tired for this. “Everything in those documents is true and accurate, sir.”

Shadis takes the pages finally, leafing through them with a tight expression. Unfortunately, they appear to be in ship-shape. “Very well. You both are dismissed. I have no damn clue why the hell you finished so quick, but we’ll talk about that tomorrow. Get your sorry asses to your bunks.” 

“Yes sir, thank you sir!” Marco salutes along with Floch and the both of them leave the Commander’s presence with no shortness of relief. “Did you want to take a shower before bed?” Marco asks softly as they make their way to the boys’ bunkers. The camp is eerily quiet with the absence of nearly all the cadets, and his voice feels inappropriately loud because of it.

“Um—” Floch looks away from Marco as his cheeks flush red — and then he kicks himself mentally for reading too deep into that question. He is way too tired for this. “Y-yeah, I probably should,” he mutters in response. “I feel disgusting after getting caught in that storm…”

Marco nods his agreement. “Good thing no one else is around, we’ll have plenty of hot water. I think I’ll go for a quick rinse too. I’m so tired I don’t think I’ll be able to stand for more than a few minutes anyway.” 

He rounds that sentence off by opening the barracks door to a chilly silence. Outside of a few other cadets who were unfortunate enough to not be able to participate in the mock-expedition, the bunks are all empty. 

The only noises come from where Eren is slowly unpacking some of his spare clothes by Armin’s bunk, and Jean — likewise — by his own. Armin isn’t here, but Marco thinks Mikasa might have taken the boy to the girls’ quarters instead. Goodness knows that the boy needs whatever support he can get. Marco has no hard feelings for Armin (he would wager that such a thing is actually impossible) and is secretly glad the boy has Mikasa looking after him. 

“See ya in a bit?” Marco offers to Floch, moving in the direction of Jean’s bunk, his being just a little further down the room. 

Floch nods, and without him realizing it, his lips curl into a small smile. “Yeah, see you soon.”

Eren drops his shirt. Again. He bends to pick it up slowly, his hands shaking an inordinate amount. Jean has already showered while Eren avoided the stalls like the plague, giving Jean his space. But now Eren needs to shower, badly, except… his towel is on Jean’s bunk. He glances over his shoulder to where the boy in question stands and sees him ripping his belongings out of his bag before throwing them on his cot. 

They rode twelve hours in a rigid silence. Not a word or a look was shared. Eren thinks that he’s never been more cold and guilty his entire life. He doesn’t even know what he’d say to Jean given the chance.

Sina, I really need to shower… Eren can still feel the filth of his infidelity on him and he needs it off as soon as humanly possible. He weighs the risks and decides he’ll have to face Jean at some point before they sleep together. 

He takes a deep fortifying breath. And moves. 

Jean quickly empties his bag and runs out of things to throw — he then hurls the bag off to the side and leans his head against the bed frame. His head is pounding so hard he thinks it might actually explode. It scares him a little; he hasn’t been this livid since…

No, he doesn’t want to remember that right now. He can’t.

Someone’s footsteps approach him with a delicate and careful cadence, and somehow Jean doesn’t have to turn around to know whose they are. “What the hell do you want?”

Eren winces, arm one-quarter raised where he was going to try to get Jean’s attention. He swallows and drops it quickly. “Just — my towel. I wanted um, to shower.” 

Jean lifts his head, and his gaze immediately snaps to the spot on the railing where Eren always hangs his towel. The sight of it used to make him so warm inside, and now it makes him want to tear his hair out. 

Jean yanks the towel off the railing and shoves it into Eren’s chest. “That all?”

Eren’s hands come up automatically to hold the towel in place and he shakes when he accidentally brushes against Jean’s hand in the process. “Y-yeah. Thanks. Sorry…” He’s not quite sure what he’s apologizing for and the embarrassing slip makes him blush. 

Jean grimaces at the bitter taste that enters his mouth. Fuck, could you be any more pathetic…?

He starts climbing up to his cot so he can sort out the piles of gear and supplies that clutter it. That’ll give him something to do that isn’t looking at Eren’s awful fucking face. “Good — then get lost.”

Eren almost leaves on command, but something keeps his feet planted. He glances around and sees that both Floch and Marco have headed to the showers as neither boy is by their respective cots. The privacy makes him a little braver. 

He clutches his towel tightly and takes a shaky breath in. “Jean… can we talk?”

The question lights every fucking cell in Jean’s body on fire. He keeps his back turned to Eren, fingers clawing into the blanket under him. “Talk about what? We all saw what you did; there’s nothing to discuss.”

Eren blushes to the roots of his hair. He glances down at the wooden flooring and reminds himself to breathe. “I — I know you saw… but… if I could explain —”

“Don’t even fucking try it.” A shockwave of pain rips through Jean’s brain; he hisses and grabs his forehead, reeling from the force of it. “It was unforgivable. End of story.”

Jean’s words rip Eren’s heart. He feels sick with himself, what the hell can he even say to that? Jean is absolutely right, it was unforgivable. He took Armin’s virginity and broke Jean’s trust with it. “I — Jean I didn’t mean to… I tried —” 

Eren cuts himself off. Sure he had tried not to give in, but was he really such an animal that he failed? And was that really the excuse he wanted to offer Jean?

Because it certainly doesn’t amuse the boy — Jean turns and levels a lethally sharp glare at Eren. “No, you meant to.” His voice is dark and frigid. “You knew what you were doing. Could’ve stopped at any time, but you didn’t.” He grimaces as he chokes out a mirthless laugh. “And of course you picked the little pushover who couldn’t say no to you. Like hell Armin would’ve ever agreed to something so shitty…”

Eren feels his bones stiffen. Each fiber in his body turns to glass and he feels like Jean just took a hammer and swung at him. He can’t breathe again. 

Armin said yes. He said yes. 

Didn’t he?

Eren slowly moves his gaze up from the floor to find Jean’s face, a mix of fear and defensive anger morphing his own face to something dark. “I would never force Armin to do that! I wouldn’t do that to anyone—”

Like clockwork. Floch comes to mind. And Eren snaps his mouth shut, something colder than his blood making him feel more like a corpse than a living body. 

That abrupt cut-off makes Jean queasy. “So you can’t deny it after all?” His blood starts to simmer all over again, and the veins in his neck pop out as he tenses. “That is sick, Eren. Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I… wasn’t…” Eren whispers faintly; he thinks he might throw up. Distantly, the door to the showers opens and closes. 

Eren drops his towel and slaps a hand over his mouth as something threatens to come out — if it’s a sob or him seriously about to puke he doesn’t know. He turns tail and runs out of the boys’ barracks. 

Jean watches Eren flee, but he’s too revolted to even take a sadistic pleasure in how pathetic Eren looks and sounds. He’d wanted his intuition to be wrong — he’d wanted those sinking feelings in his gut to be overreactions — but no, it really had been that fucking awful. Jean always knew that Eren was crazy and impulsive but shit, not like this…

He feels like he doesn’t even know who he’s been sleeping with all this time. And that makes his skin crawl all the way off his body.

Jean crumples onto the mattress, lying flat on his back. He slings an arm over his eyes to block out the rest of the world; he draws stuttering, heaving breaths through his painfully gritted teeth. He tries so, so hard to suppress the acidic burning in his throat, but he’s ultimately unsuccessful — the steaming hot tears pour silently down the sides of his face.

“Jean?” Marco’s soft voice is completely shaken as he pokes his head up Jean’s bunk from half-way up the ladder. His dark hair is still wet from the shower but he doesn’t seem to give it a thought as he clambers into Jean’s bunk. “Oh Jean… ”

Jean flinches and instinctively turns his body away. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, really, but especially not Marco. In his panic, he forgets to choke down his sobs, and they fall from his lips in utterly broken spurts.

Marco’s heart shatters, he feels so utterly disgusted with himself suddenly — his motivations in climbing up Jean’s ladder had been foremost selfish and though he’s the only one privy to that knowledge he feels as though Jean will pick up on it. And now that he’s here, and he’s seeing Jean sob he wants to cry himself. 

Jean never cried in front of anyone. Marco had his suspicions that the boy cried a few times in private — where his tears were quickly swiped away as though their very existence was offending Jean’s sense of manliness — but to see it happen?

Carefully, Marco stretches out a hand and runs it in soft slow circles between Jean’s shoulders. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t quite trust himself to.  

Jean sighs despite himself, and he presses a hand over his mouth to muffle it. But he doesn’t shy away from Marco’s touch. It’s grounding, and so soothing. With every gentle stroke, Marco is melting away a little more of the thick, curdling slime that permeates Jean’s insides.

Encouraged by how Jean does not immediately throw his hands off, Marco continues his ministrations. Gently working the soft circles in with a tad more pressure, almost kneading the boy’s shoulders.

He swallows, his heart lodged firmly in his throat and beating faster than a drum. He shouldn’t be feeling excited right now — Jean is at his most vulnerable, literally trusting him with his back turned. But he almost can’t help himself. For years he’s wanted to just touch and though the circumstances are abhorrent, and though the morality of his actions are dubious, he can’t help it.  

Shakily, Marco drags the hand on Jean’s back in larger circles until he can reach the boy’s nape — then he tentatively runs the hand up the short hairs and into the ragged mop on Jean’s head, softly threading through the knots. 

He’s not Eren though, so he bends down and asks quietly: “Is this okay?”

Jean swallows hard as a surprisingly pleasant chill snakes down his spine. Nobody ever touches his hair except for himself and — that fucking bastard.

And Eren was always so rough with it, tugging and tousling it at every opportunity. This feels so much softer — Marco caresses his hair and massages his scalp with such tenderness. Somehow the pleasure zaps all the tension from his muscles. Jean feels silly for being so affected by such a chaste little touch, but it really does feel that good to him.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” he whispers to Marco. “Keep goin’.”

Marco smiles softly and continues the gentle scalp massage. He involves both his hands now, knowing that Jean frequently gets piercing headaches when he’s stressed, and focuses his efforts around the boy’s temples, using his thumbs to gently run circles in the thickest part of Jean’s hair.

He’s genuinely glad to give the boy some reprieve. Truly!

But Sina if he’s not struggling to hold back the storm of butterflies that erupts in his chest at being able to finally touch Jean like this. For the first time he feels free to touch him, to shower the boy with the years’ worth of affections he’s held tight and hidden in his heart. 

He bites his lip. This should be enough for him — this is enough for him to have. He deserves no more, really — he’s been an awful friend to Jean since he got together with Eren. 

Damn that bastard to Maria. 

“Jean… do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to, I just want — I want to help.” 

Jean’s hand falls away from his face, and ever so slightly, he smiles at the concern in Marco’s voice. But that smile doesn’t reach his frantic yet tired eyes. So many horrible words and thoughts and pictures tear through his head that he doesn’t even know where to start with them. The only thing that he can verbalize right now is —

“He really had me convinced that he’d be different… fuck. Can’t believe I was dumb enough to trust him.”

Oh, even secondhand that stung. Marco almost feels bad for Eren. Not really though, the boy brought this upon himself — was it really so hard to stay loyal? And to Jean? Marco thinks that if he had Jean to himself he wouldn’t so much as talk to another person so long as he lived. 

He wouldn’t need to. 

Ah well, perhaps he’d like to still talk with Floch sometimes. 

He hums softly in recognition of Jean’s statement and slows the motions of his fingers even more. “You aren’t dumb, Jean. Eren betrayed your trust — he did something completely out of line. I seriously can’t understand that kid… he was so lucky to have you, and he just — he threw that away.” 

“Like it was nothing…” Jean folds his arms over his chest, tightly squeezing his forearms as he curls in on himself just a bit. “Fuck, I turn around for one hour and this is what he does to me… do I really mean that little to him?”

After everything that I told him?

It doesn’t make sense to Jean. Eren has seen it all at this point — his pain, his shame, his anger — the seemingly endless torment of swinging back and forth between euphoria and revulsion. Walls, Eren went out of his way to trigger all of that shit — damn near dragged him kicking and screaming into his new concept of self — all so that the two of them could be together.

For Eren to then turn his back on him and dishonor that special, hard-fought bond of theirs in such a disgusting way… Jean doesn’t have the words for how sick it makes him feel. His headache is starting up again, so he leans back into Marco’s touch and tries his hardest to take steadying breaths.

Marco feels like he can hear the thoughts in Jean’s head. He realizes quickly when Jean presses back lightly into his touch that the thoughts are quickly getting out of hand for the boy and so… 

He dares.

Carefully, leaving plenty of time for Jean to react, Marco lays down alongside him, facing chest to back with Jean’s body. He then slowly, tentatively, wraps his arms around Jean’s torso and pulls him closer. It’s a chaste, comforting hug, but it makes his heart beat wildly. 

“You didn’t deserve that, Jean. You didn’t deserve any of that. And if he can’t value you for how wonderful you are… then he doesn’t deserve you at all.” 

It’s so slight that Jean almost thinks he imagines it, but there’s a little tremor in Marco’s sweet, easing voice that rattles his heart, but not in an unpleasant way. He can’t remember Marco ever being this physically affectionate with him, even on his worst days. But Marco gives very good hugs, so he’s certainly not complaining, even if it is a bit unusual.

And Marco doesn’t seem the slightest bit afraid of this embrace — his hold is gentle, yes, but it’s not timid or reluctant. He doesn’t seem to mind that he’s doing this with another guy. Maybe Mikasa was onto something earlier in the day. 

But Jean can’t be sure, and that doubt is slowly but steadily ripping his mind to shreds. He needs it to stop — he needs an answer.

“Hey, Marco? You… are you okay with this?” The tips of Jean’s ears turn scarlet. “With — with holding me, I mean.”

Marco, who had been slowly sinking into a state of hypnosis due to Jean’s alluring and sweet scent, snaps out of his daze and replays the boy’s words. He frowns with some confusion and squeezes the boy tighter. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Softly, he adds: “I always thought you wouldn’t like it — before um… before you got with Eren.” 

In a way, Marco isn’t wrong, and Jean physically cringes thinking on how that would’ve gone down just a few short months ago. “It would’ve freaked me out a little, yeah,” he chuckles anxiously, “but, uh… things are different now than they were back then. I know I… I never really got a chance to sit down and talk to you about it…” Jean frowns, and his voice falters. “And then you…”

Marco waits for a moment, then, seeing Jean is not going to finish, prompts him a little, gently. “And then I what?” His heart is beating away wildly in his chest and he wishes he could calm down a little. His voice sounds far too breathless and soft and he’s terrified Jean will catch on. He needs to be here for Jean as a friend first. And they are! Friends, that is. 

Aren’t they?

Jean takes a slow, deep breath in and out. He’s come this far, so he can’t chicken out now, no matter how furiously his heart pounds in fear of Marco’s response. He needs the truth.

“You’ve been acting off ever since I got with Eren. Like you’re bothered by us being a thing, under the surface. S’why I never ended up talkin’ much about it with you… I thought maybe you just hated that I was — that I’m — that I… like guys…”

Jean has his eyes squeezed firmly shut. His face feels like it’s been lit on fire. He isn’t breathing — he’s forgotten how to.

He needs Marco to say something. But he’s really, really not sure that he can bear to hear it.

Marco feels his breath catch. His heart is seizing in his chest. He’s agonized for Jean at the mere thought that the boy was under such an impression. He wants… 

I want to roll him onto his back, cup his face and kiss him so hard he’ll never doubt that I love him again…

Sina, his whole body is vibrating with the effort not to do that very act. Instead, he pulls Jean closer to him and hides his face into the space between Jean’s shoulders. “Jean… I could never hate that about you. I — I’m so, so, sorry you ever thought I didn’t accept you.” Marco can’t admit why he behaved as he did — he can’t admit that now while Jean is still reeling from the pain Eren caused.

That’d be cruel. 

Even if it might… work.

“I — I never had an issue with you learning you liked guys — I just wish you didn’t like Eren. ”

The sigh of relief that escapes Jean’s lips sounds almost indecent. Suddenly he feels foolish for fearing that he would get any other answer than this one. This is Marco he’s talking about — the boy doesn’t have a hateful bone in his body, and that’s part of what drew Jean to him in the first place.

Jean’s laughter is breathy and a little deranged, but he’s far too high on his relief to bother filtering it. He takes Marco’s hand and gives it a quick, firm squeeze. “Right, right… of course that’s all it was. You didn’t like that I was dating a jackass. Oh, Sina…”

Marco silently matches Jean’s curse, except his feels much more panicked because… Jean’s hand touched his — intentionally. Squeezed it even! 

And his laugh? Why Marco got butterflies at that slightly deranged sound was up for anyone’s best guess. All he knows is that he’s struggling to maintain his composure. He wants to hold Jean even tighter; closer. He wants to wrap himself around the boy until Jean can’t remember anything about the world around them except for Marco. 

He wants… he wants…

“He’s not good for you Jean… He’s childish and reckless and doesn’t think before he acts,” Marco insists stubbornly. He huffs with ill-disguised annoyance. “This whole… situation… It should be proof enough of that for you.” His hand grips Jean’s shirt a little, tugging on it meaningfully. “You remember right? You wouldn’t let him off easy? Jean, you should break it off with him.” 

Jean barely remembers what happened in that cave — his rage was too blinding — but Marco’s words prompt his simmering bloodlust to bubble back up to the surface. Marco has a point, after all; there are certain disgraces that he shouldn’t have to tolerate from anyone, and certainly not from any thoughtless, heartless fucking whores.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Jean growls. “I want him as far away from me as fuckin’ possible from now on.”

Marco can’t help the little bounce his heart gives at the adamance in Jean’s voice. He’s very glad he’s not the subject to that vicious, barely-tamed vitriol, and even giddier that it’s directed at Eren.

Even if his giddiness does make him sick with mortification at his own damn greed. He just can’t help it.

He sits up suddenly, and reaches to stroke his fingers gently through Jean’s hair again; he’s addicted to the privilege. “He won’t get near you, Jean. I promise. He’s not gonna hurt you ever again. Ever. ” Marco’s voice dips lower than normal at his last word, something vicious and red slipping into the promise. 

Jean gasps sharply, stunned by the darkness that he thought he’d never hear in Marco’s tone. But he is hearing it — so he knows that Marco is serious. That Marco has his back here. And he just knows that Eren will be raging like a summer storm against him from here on out, so Sina knows he’ll need the support.

He couldn’t be more grateful to have that from his best friend.

Jean hums quietly and shuts his eyes, letting Marco’s ministrations gradually relax him. “Mm, damn right he won’t. We’ll punch his lights out together, then?”

Marco lets his shoulders relax and he lays back down next to Jean, still stroking his hair and feeling for the first time… that his heart is full. “Yeah. Of course we will. But only after we get some sleep first, yeah?” He hesitates for a minute but then pushes forward, feeling brave. “Do — do you want me here? So he doesn’t get any ideas about bunking with you? At least until Connie gets back?”

Jean’s eyes widen briefly as he considers it, and then he turns his head to give Marco a soft smile. “You know what? That’s not a bad idea.” He reaches over to gently pat Marco’s shoulder a few times. “You always make good company, so yeah. Get comfortable.”

Marco blushes with giddy happiness and does just that, leaving a little gap between their bodies but snuggling under the covers with Jean — he’s too lazy to get his pillow and blanket and hopes that Jean will not mind sharing the space. “Thanks, Jean — I think I would’ve fallen asleep going down the ladder anyway…” he yawns.

“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna land you back in the infirmary,” Jean quips with his first genuine laugh in ages. He finally feels some semblance of peace thanks to Marco’s presence, so he’s very glad that he won’t be losing it any time soon. He pulls his blanket tighter around the two of them, sighing contentedly as his lips settle into a satisfied smile. “G’night, Marco,” he whispers. “And… thanks for everything today.”

“Always, Jean. Always. ”

Chapter Text

The night air is nowhere as relieving to Eren as he needs it to be when he runs out of the boys’ barracks. He feels ill. Jean’s words are echoing in his head in a cyclical spiral, twisting his stomach and making him want to vomit. 

‘And of course you picked the little pushover who couldn’t say no to you. Like hell Armin would’ve ever agreed to something so shitty… That is sick, Eren. Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?’

Oh fuck… fuckfuckfuck…  

Eren walks quickly to the other side of the barracks until he reaches the supply closet and then leans against the wall, clawing his hands up into his hair as he struggles to breathe.

His chest is so tight it feels like there are iron bars wrapping around him and his gasping shudders are loud enough to rival the high-pitched screaming in his ears. 

Fuck! Did he really push Armin that much?

He can’t remember anymore — he can’t pull the memories from his mind; he can’t remember if he even asked!  

Eren clamps his hands over his mouth and cries out in horror, slipping down to the ground and shaking like a child. Did he rape Armin? 

Sweet, innocent, perfect Armin? Who he’s loved as long as he’s known? Who’s been with him through everything? His first friend? His first kiss? The boy who has the light and spark of a million stars in his summer-sky eyes? 

Surely he’d know… He’d have known if Armin didn’t want it, right? He knows what those eyes look like when they are bright with joy, half-lidded with soft delight… wide and white with fear…

Surely… he’d know? Hasn’t he been on the other side enough to know?

Surely…

Floch rounds the corner of the barracks, and he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Eren crouched outside the supply closet, scream-sobbing into his hands. The boy looks utterly wrecked — the sight and sound of Eren’s suffering stabs Floch right through his heart. He figured something had to be horribly wrong since it’s past three in the morning and Eren hadn’t come back to sleep, but Sina, Rose, and Maria…

Floch approaches Eren slowly, gingerly — like the boy is a frightened, injured rabbit that he’s trying desperately not to agitate. He kneels down in front of Eren and gently reaches out to stroke the boy’s shoulder. “Eren… what’s going on?”

Eren starts at Floch’s words, only seeming to notice him now as his eyes refocus, tears falling rapidly from where they had pooled idly under his lashes. He feels his throat tighten and a broken-sounding cry is the only response he’s capable of making. 

He’s horrified that Floch is seeing him like this — horrified and he can’t do shit. He desperately tries to hide his face, wiping away the tears even as more fall. “ Fuck, ” he whimpers. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Floch gives Eren’s shoulder what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze, but he’s worried that his hand is shaking too much to send that message. “I just — I… I got worried when I didn’t see you around the barracks, so I…” And now his voice is trembling too, dammit — he swallows hard in a desperate attempt to steady it. “I’m here for you, okay? I’m here.”

Eren feels his body relax a little. If anything, Floch’s familiar voice is a balm to his racing brain; it gives him a chance to think.

Oh, but these thoughts are not what Eren wants to have. 

They’re flashing in front of him — morphed, disgusting, horrific.

Armin is saying no . 

Armin is saying no , and he isn’t listening…

Oh Walls, that’s the face Armin made when Shiganshina fell — it can’t possibly be the face he made when Eren pressed inside... 

Oh no… no nononono…

“Make it stop! Make it stop! I didn’t — I didn’t force him! I — I would have stopped!” Eren screams, ripping his hands down his face in claws that leave raw red streaks down his cheeks.

“Wh-what?” Floch grabs Eren’s wrists and pries the boy’s hands away from his face, before he can hurt himself further. “Eren, chill out; what the hell are you saying?”

He’s confused. He’s so confused. Eren can only be referring to the sex that he had with Armin, Floch thinks, but to think that it was somehow forced? No, Armin has been in love with Eren since the day that they started training — and surely long before that. That much was obvious to anyone with eyes.

They were alone together in that cave, with seemingly all the time in the world… So why wouldn’t Armin want it?

Eren stares at where Floch holds his wrists; it’s a firm hold but not painful. He wonders if reversed — with his tan hands holding Floch’s pale ones — it might look like how his hands would have held Armin’s.

Eren wonders — in a distant, dark, insane way — if he would be able to tell when Floch didn’t want it. And that thought disturbs him as much as it attracts him. If he could make Floch say yes, when the boy means no… 

If he could make his body say yes, while his lips said no…

Then Eren would know that he could stop, and he’d know then that of course he would have stopped with Armin.

Oh shit, the idea has taken root in his mind and he’s oddly calm with it. Slowly, Eren tips his tear-stained, eerily calm face to Floch’s — and in one smooth and quick movement, frees his wrists and regrips them around Floch’s own hands. 

One more movement and he has Floch tossed onto the ground flat on his back, arms pinned above his head as Eren leans over him, kicking a leg between Floch’s. “Floch… tell me no…” he says huskily, voice raw from his earlier sobbing.

*

*

*

[RAPE SCENE AHEAD]

*

*

*

“What the fuck…”

Floch’s voice is barely a whisper. His body freezes under Eren’s hold. His eyes are wide and flooded with icy horror, staring helplessly up at Eren’s unnaturally haunted expression. There’s something in the boy’s gaze that makes his blood run cold.

This shouldn’t be happening. Floch desperately wants to run, fight, scream — something — but it’s no use. He cannot will himself to move.

Eren can see the redhead’s shock, and he thinks that the widening of the boy’s almond-shaped eyes looks perhaps a little terrified. But that’s not enough — Armin was aroused when Eren propositioned him.

So Floch needs to be aroused when he says no. 

He transfers the boy’s wrists to one of his hands and uses the other to trail slowly down the boy’s body — he hates and loves how easily the memories of touching Floch come to him. He gropes at the boy’s crotch harshly, finding the shape of him and tracing it with his whole palm. Floch’s hips buck up into the touch on instinct, and a weak, broken cry escapes his throat.

Eren feels slightly ill when his own body responds to the memory and reacts in kind. 

“C’mon… You want this don’t you? You’re always desperate for me… always wantin’ this… Bet it makes you fuckin’ pissed when you see me and Jean —” Eren feels his voice break on Jean’s name and he quickly switches tack. “Tell me to stop. One word Floch, tell me to fuck off — c’mon, do it! ”

Tremors rack Floch’s entire body, and tears well up in the corners of his eyes. This isn’t right — it should not be happening — and all he has to do is spit out one measly little word to end this horrifying scene…

But his trembling lips are frozen shut. His eyes are locked onto Eren’s, searching them desperately for a reason why. They’ve done this dance a thousand times before, and every time — every time —

What the fuck does Eren think will be different here?

Eren watches every single sign on Floch’s body — watching his lips as they stay firmly shut, his eyes as they remain wide and dart from Eren’s mouth to his eyes in predictable patterns. He watches the boy’s chest as his breaths stutter with each motion of Eren’s hand.

He feels Floch get hard — and it doesn’t quite feel right.  

There’s a wave of anxiety that is slowly pooling in Eren’s stomach. Like poisoned, bloodied water frothing and bubbling in gross motions just under the tap of control Eren has put over it. He can see the arousal in Floch’s body, can feel it and he thinks he can even hear the damn ‘yes’ that Floch can’t bring himself to say.

But there’s something wrong about this. 

Eren needs to stop — he thinks he has his answer, Floch can’t really want this after all — not morally. But he needs to push harder, he needs to hear Floch say ‘yes’, and know the boy means ‘no’. 

He releases Floch’s wrist and brings that hand down to his own trousers, and tugs on the belt buckle until it clicks open loudly. “If you don’t say no, Floch — I’m just gonna fuck you right here. And you know it’s gonna hurt, I don’t have oil,” he says as lightly as possible with his heart shredding in panic.

The threat rips through Floch’s mind, and he feels it start to shatter. Eren can’t be serious, he thinks — but he said it with so much conviction… too much conviction. Yes, Eren tends to be rough with him, but never in ways that he wouldn’t actually invite. So this is crazy. He never asked for this!

He never…

He…

Sina, he’s asked for this every damn day since Eren left him for Jean. He’s prayed for it in the deepest recesses of his mind, where not even he himself could hear it after a while. But it was there — the deep, dark, hopeless desire was always there. Tormenting him.

And now his prayers are finally being answered, in the only way that they could be: through force. It’s awful, it’s so awful, but it’s how it’s always been. If he just closes his eyes and grits his teeth — stomachs the poison like the good little pup he is — then maybe, just maybe…

Eren finishes unbuckling his belt and opens his trousers, but his eyes are glued to Floch, and his ears are waiting… waiting for him to say ‘no’, to say ‘stop’. To say anything.  

His hand slips down his underwear on instinct and that’s when it hits him like a punch to his gut.

He’s hard.  

And not just somewhat hard. His cock is burning like steel pulled from a forge, dripping with precum like it was quenched in oil. He’s throbbing. 

What the fuck… None of this — none of this was arousing! None of this was sexy. He was attempting to rape Floch, waiting on the boy to tell him to stop! What between Sina and Maria was arousing about any of this?

Something very cold and very bitter forms in the same spot where he felt that gut-punch, and it rises up to his mouth. Oh please no…

Did he get hard because — because he was trying to rape Floch?

*

*

*

[RAPE SCENE CONCLUDED]

*

*

*

Eren gags suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth as he turns to the side and throws up — mostly water as he hadn’t eaten anything since the camp-night. 

The sound of it is enough to jolt Floch from his chilly, resigned stupor. He flinches and blinks rapidly, unsure what to make of Eren’s sudden sickness. Had the boy lost his nerve and come back to his senses? Or was Eren really that revolted by the act of touching his pathetic, overused body?

Whatever the case, it makes Floch’s heart sink like a rock to the bottom of a deep river. He chokes out a string of rough, broken sobs, his tears rolling sullenly down his face and into the grass. “Eren… seriously, man, what the fuck are you doing with me?”

Eren spits, the strings of saliva feel disgusting and he’s dizzy from the heaving motions his stomach makes. He spits again and wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, gasping air in like it’s his only choice. 

Fuck, the way he wished he could choose not to…

“Why —” Eren starts, his voice grainy and rough like sandpaper. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“I — I…”

He can’t. Floch can’t say it. Not while he’s being bombarded by hundreds of memories of sordid encounters gone horribly, deliciously wrong. Not while he’s being choked and gagged by the memories of how good it felt to be pushed just a little too far…

Why did it even feel that good?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

The light slowly drains from Floch’s eyes, and his head lolls to the side, gaze falling to the grass beside him. “You know why,” he says flatly, his voice weak and wispy. “Don’t make me… Eren, please don’t….”

Oh shit , Eren’s heard Floch beg before — many times. This doesn’t sound close to the whimpers he’s used to. Eren turns to look at the redhead and feels his stomach sink impossibly deeper into the pit of despair he’s dug for himself. 

Floch looks so broken. Carefully, Eren moves, shuffling his body so that he can sit in Floch’s range of vision. “Dude… still? ”

The sheer disbelief in Eren’s voice makes Floch want to sink beneath the grass and disappear, but the ground simply won’t take him. He screws his eyes shut and sputters out another wet, wobbly sob before nodding once, slowly.

“Sina…” Eren whispers, cold shock flooding his body quicker than the whiplash he gets from ODM gear. He runs a hand down his face and chokes on a bitter laugh that feels more like sob. “Sina, Floch — you can’t keep letting me do this to you…”

And you can’t keep doing this to me to begin with, a part of Floch wants to scream at Eren — but deep down, he needs Eren to keep pushing like this, because it’s the only way… it’s the only way…

At once, Floch’s heart is crushed by the sickening, horrifying weight of it all. He bursts into tears, curling in on himself and wailing into the hands that he’s pressed over his mouth. He struggles to draw proper breaths between his wheezing sobs. Distantly, he thinks he might pass out from this — but he really doesn’t mind the idea of a dark, quiet void if it means he’ll escape this utter torture.

Eren stares at Floch for a solid two seconds — shock turning his body to stone. Then he gets hit with a wave of such intense guilt it is galling. He moves and wraps his arms around Floch, pulling the boy against his chest and curling a hand up into his red hair.

“Oh, Sina — I’m so sorry… fuck, I’m so sorry, Floch…” he babbles between tears of his own. 

Floch goes completely slack in Eren’s embrace, shoulders shaking as he cries and screams into Eren’s shirt, soaking it with tears and snot. He can’t remember the last time anyone has held him like this — just held him, sweetly, tenderly… and he’s certainly never gotten that from Eren before. The boy always seemed to thoroughly enjoy tossing him around, so Floch never thought to…

That realization makes him cry even harder.

The way Floch is sobbing doesn’t just break Eren’s heart — it shatters it. He’s seen the boy cry before… Hell, he’s usually the one to make Floch cry (and Maria knows what that says about him…). 

But this? This isn’t just sniffles and tears. The sounds Floch is making, the way the boy is holding onto his shirt, practically screaming?  

Oh fuck , Eren really really fucked this boy over. He doesn’t even know what to do; he feels like a heartless monster! How many fucking times did he use Floch? How many times did he just brush the boy off? How many damn times did he forget that this kid had a damn heart?  

“I’m — shit, I’m so sorry Floch…” Eren gasps out thickly, and somehow tightens his hold on the boy even more. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Floch isn’t sure how many times he hears Eren choke out that word. He hadn’t thought it possible to feel dizzier than he already did, and yet here he is, head spinning indescribably fast. Eren’s incessant apologies almost stop sounding like words after a while — they almost lose all meaning — but Walls, Floch can feel how much Eren means it in the tightness of his embrace. Floch can hear how much Eren means it in the brokenness of his voice.

If Eren is genuinely remorseful, then he should be ready and willing to forgive Eren, Floch thinks. He has to. Because that’s the right thing to do — that’s what you do for the people who you love.

But — he just — he —

“Eren, stop!”

Floch blurts it out louder than he means to and it causes Eren to freeze like a statue. He cringes at the way his voice cracks, and then he buries his face deeper into Eren’s shirt. “I — I heard you…”

Eren doesn’t breathe for a good long moment. Then carefully he lifts his arms away from Floch’s body letting the boy go as some semblance of human blood returns to his veins. 

Sina, Rose, and Maria — Floch told him to stop.  

Eren’s heart is racing and he’s not sure if it’s fear, adrenaline, shock, or just plain horror. He can’t even be sure that his brain is working right. All he knows is that that word coming from Floch is not okay.  

But… It is also the best thing Eren has ever heard the boy say. “Okay…” he hears himself say breathily, finally drawing in air to his burning lungs. “Okay, I’m — I — tell me what you need right now, Floch. I — I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want.” As proof, Eren raises his hands to about his shoulders, but doesn’t attempt to pull away from where Floch still holds onto his shirt. He keeps his eyes locked on the boy’s face and waits…

“I… I need… oh, fuck, I don’t know what I need…”

Floch releases Eren’s shirt, shoving his hands into his hair and tugging on it as he starts to hyperventilate all over again. 

He cannot believe the words that he just heard Eren say. Did he even say them, or did Floch imagine that? He’s too afraid to ask Eren to repeat himself — he can’t take anymore heartbreak than what he’s already miraculously endured tonight.

Floch’s throat gets tighter by the second — his vision starts spotting — and all he can think is that he needs to breathe. And for that he needs more space, so he scrambles backwards away from Eren, tripping over his own heels and nearly falling flat on his back before catching himself. He props himself up with his quivering arms, eyes swimming with confusion and hurt as he stares back helplessly at Eren.

Slowly, Eren pushes himself up to sit back on his heels, keeping his hands in his lap as he does so. He can’t hold Floch’s gaze for long — it scares him beyond anything he’s felt to know that he’s the one who put that look on Floch’s face. 

Fuck… Has he really gotten so bad that he’s now the same damn monster he swore to kill?

The thought makes him want to hurl again so Eren forces himself to pull in deep, slow breaths — unconsciously mimicking the pattern Jean used to use when he’d have panic attacks. 

In for four.

Out for four.

“Do you need me to leave you alone? I can get Marco…” Eren offers slowly, even as the very thought sends shivers of icy dread through his limbs. 

Floch immediately shakes his head — and he keeps shaking it, even as his heart threatens to punch right through his ribcage. “No, I… I just needed some more room.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow, trembling breath, in and out… and when he opens his eyes, he locks them right back onto Eren’s, and pushes himself upright. “I think — we need to talk, Eren. What the fuck are we doing? What is — what happened just now?”

Eren’s stomach sinks to Hell. Oh, please don’t make me explain this…

He swallows thickly and breaks eye contact, staring at a spot of grass next to Floch’s hand. “I — this… I was trying…” Oh, it only gets worse the more Eren tries to remember his earlier panicked mindset. Why the fuck did he think this was a good idea? 

He can’t help hiding his face with his hands, he’s more than just mortified. He doesn’t think there’s an adequate word for what the hell he feels right now. “Sina, Floch… I don’t know what I was thinking… I — oh, fuck I’m such a fucking monster.” His voice cracks on the last word and he drags his hands down, staring into his palms with disbelief. 

“So you… there’s really nothing?” An awful chill seeps into Floch’s bones. He feels like he wants to cry again, but those wells have run completely dry. “I walked up to you, and no one else was around, so you just decided to… to ra-holy shit, Eren, what the fuck? ” 

Eren heard the cut-off word — and heard it in its entirety. He goes pale as a sheet and feels something in his stomach permanently sink. It was one thing to assign that term in his mind — in the privacy of his own self-loathing. He knew what those monsters looked like, and knew he fit the picture. But now Floch knows it too. Oh god — he’s become … He is to Floch what that man was to him. 

He needs to fix this. Now. “No!” Eren yells desperately. “I didn’t — I wasn’t… It was because…” 

Oh god, there isn’t a way to fix this. He forces himself to meet Floch’s eyes and hopes — prays — that Floch will let him explain at the very least. “I wasn’t going to — I just… I needed to make it seem like I was.” 

Floch’s head starts to throb; utter disbelief twists his expression. “What? You weren’t gonna — but you — Eren, that doesn’t make any damn sense!”

“I know! I know that…” Eren interrupts desperately. “I — Jean… Jean said… He suggested that I —” Eren swallows the nausea that threatens to break his voice. “He suggested that I took advantage of Armin because he wouldn’t say ‘no’ to me. So I panicked and…” 

Eren cuts himself off as he quickly realizes that no matter how he phrases it, no matter how he might attempt to draw Floch’s attention to anything else — the truth of the matter is that he just used Floch. 

And now he’ll have to admit that. It’s nowhere near a harsh enough punishment, but it humiliates him beyond belief. He assumed Floch understood he was being used. That their trysts were just mildly on that side of not-good, that Eren was being too careless with Floch’s emotions. He assumed Floch knew because why wouldn’t he? Eren didn’t beat about the bush with his affections. If he cared for Floch the way the redhead wanted — it would have shown. 

So he assumed Floch knew he was being used and thankfully never had to admit it out loud. Now however… 

Fuck. 

“I panicked and I had to see if — if I knew what it looked like when someone didn’t want it. Because if I’d see that look, and know that they didn’t want it, and stopped — then that means I would’ve done the same with Armin. So I’d know that he did want it. And you — you were just — I knew you’d at least kinda want it…” 

“And what, was that supposed to make it hurt less for me?” Floch’s voice is weak and wavering, cutting out on every other word. “Or did that not really matter to you, since I’m just… something to experiment with?”

Eren winces sharply, feeling his heart sting. “Y-you’re more than that to me…” he starts. “But… I guess I … I really fucked up with you. I’m sorry…” Eren can hear the despondency in his own voice and he really really doesn’t know how to make any of this better.

The words ring hollow in Floch’s ears. He’s gone completely numb. All this time, he’d told himself that it was just because Eren didn’t return his feelings; it was just that Eren is rough around the edges anyway — that’s why something was always a little off about their intimacy. 

But now that he’s forced to really think about what Eren is saying… There are plenty of other people in the corps who Eren has fooled around with and didn’t have any feelings for. And he’s never heard any of them share or even hint at stories as brutal as the ones that only he and Eren know. It was never about the feelings. There’s something much, much deeper fueling the punishing force of Eren’s passion here…

“Do you hate me or something?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and it’s the only thing that comes to mind. Floch slumps forward and hangs his head. “I just — I don’t think you do this kind of shit to people if you have no strong feelings at all…”

“I don’t hate you, Floch.” That at least felt easy and simple to say, and it is true. Eren knows that as well as he knows that what he’s about to say is just gonna dig him into a deeper hole. “I — it’s not hate. It’s never been ‘hate’. I just… I think I liked how you made me feel. Like I’m —” Eren blushes darkly in shame. “Like I’m someone you won’t stop obsessing over no matter what I do.” 

Mindlessly, he drags a hand through the cool grass and starts plucking at the blades, frowning as he dregs up memories of his encounters with Floch over the last year. “You make me feel really powerful. Like there’s nothing I can do to you that you won’t just take. And as fucked up as it is — it turns me on.” 

Electric jolts of shame tear through Floch’s head and chest. Has he really looked that fucking pathetic to Eren all this time? Walls, the thought makes him so sick with self-loathing that he wishes for death to bring an end to the searing pain of it all.

And yet — and still — Eren’s words make Floch’s heart soar. Somehow, in all of his pitiful stumbling about, he still managed to please Eren, to make him feel good. It’s all that he’s ever wanted to do, since the day that he first met Eren — no, since the day that he first laid eyes on the boy that night in their bunks. He just wishes…

But that was always too much to wish for, it seems. Floch has poured damn near every ounce of his soul into Eren, and Eren is making it very clear that he has nothing at all to give back.

Yes, maybe death would be preferable to sitting with this, Floch briefly thinks.

Floch dares to lift his head again, and he finds a look of sickened guilt on Eren’s face. He figures he should be comforted by it, but it only makes him want to vomit. “So you like that it’s all one-sided… and I played right into it like the idiot I am. Of course…”

Eren sighs shakily and drags his hand from the torn up grass back to his lap. “You’re not an idiot, Floch. I just used you…” he says softly.

“I don’t really see the difference — but I don’t wanna fight with you about that right now.” Floch’s gaze falls slowly, sullenly, away from Eren’s face. “I need this to never fucking happen again, okay? That’s what I need. How do I get this to stop? Please just tell me…”

Eren’s hands curl on his legs and he braces himself against the pain and desperation in Floch’s voice like they are sending blades at his neck. “It won’t happen again. I’m — I’m done. I won’t… I won’t touch you again, Floch. I won’t.” 

“You swear?”

Eren swallows and looks up at Floch, locking eyes with the boy with stern determination. “On my life.” 

On any other day, the stirring that Floch feels in his chest would be enough to assure him that Eren means it, but now he’s panicking at how immediately his body fawns at Eren’s words. How many horrific traps has he fallen into by allowing his infatuation to lead him astray? Is this about to be another one?

But no matter how strong his suspicions are, Floch knows that he doesn’t really have a choice here. This matter will stay between him and Eren. He can’t think of a soul in the whole compound who would believe this sordid tale if he told it to them. Not that he ever would — the rumors alone would devastate Eren. 

The thought of visiting such grief upon the boy makes him sick to his stomach. This has to stay their little secret…

But by the Walls, Floch doesn’t really want Eren to uphold his promise. The last thing that he wants is to forever lose Eren’s touch and the intoxicating thrill that it always brings him. He just wants it not to hurt this much.

Floch’s laughter comes out in spurts — it’s frantic and strangled. “Okay, m-maybe that’s a bit much,” he stammers in between shaky chuckles. “I mean, if my ODM gear ever gives out on me then you won’t just hang back and let me fall to my fucking death, right?”

Eren looks conflicted. Very conflicted. The thought of Floch actually dying because Eren refuses to touch him is abhorrent. But the fact that Floch thought he’d hold to their promise when a life was on the line? That feels… 

Truthfully, Eren hadn’t thought about just how far ‘not touching’ Floch would go. And now that he hears the boy clarifying that he’d be allowed to touch him in a life-or-death scenario, it makes him wonder if that’s the only circumstance where Floch would want them to touch. 

In a quick succession of flashing memories, Eren sees each time he pokes Floch in class, where he grabs the boy’s wrist to lead him somewhere, where he passes paper and pens into those waiting warm hands, where he tugs on the redhead’s ridiculous hair… 

He wouldn’t be permitted any of those? 

Suddenly, the promise he made to Floch feels much weightier, and that permanent pit in Eren’s stomach sinks deeper. He swallows and tries to smile. “Obviously I’d save you — you’re important to me. Even if I have a shit way of showing that.” 

There it goes again — Floch’s heart rapidly warms and swells in his chest. He finds himself slowly leaning forward, as if Eren is tugging on the leash that links his helpless heart to the boy, drawing him closer. He’s still trembling all over, and his eyes are swollen from crying rivers, and his voice is wrecked from screaming in agony, but he’s important to Eren, and just for that, he never wants to leave this boy’s side.

It’s exhausting. It’s humiliating. It’s terrifying.

It’s the only thing that makes him feel whole.

Despite himself, a pained but grateful smile stretches across Floch’s face. “I… I’m so glad…”

For perhaps what is the first time, Eren can see something playing out on Floch’s face that he really really doesn’t like. It dawns on him then, what Floch feels for him…

Oh, it’s no puppy crush…

The look of relief on Floch’s face, the way he leaned in towards Eren despite the shit Eren just fucking did or nearly did —

— this isn’t even obsession…

Eren doesn’t think he knows what it is. All he knows is that it’s fucking dangerous and he’s not the right person to deal with it. Far from it. Oh, Sina , the way he is already seeing himself using that leverage, perhaps not abusing it but taking full advantage of it?

Eren can see, crystal clear, just how he could make Floch melt for him again. A few well-placed smiles, a charming sweet word, a delicate touch to the wrist… trailing up the arm, cupping the jaw…

Oh fuck, Eren feels sick with himself. 

Would Floch ever learn? 

“I’d do that for anyone, Floch,” Eren chokes out, pulling his eyes from Floch’s terribly beautiful hope. He has to help Floch, and falling into the same cycle again is not going to do that. “Floch… You — you realize I’m a fuckin’ monster for what I’ve been doing to you right?” Eren grits out. 

The smile quickly falls from Floch’s face, but his gaze stays fixed on Eren. Those disturbing words make him far too aware of the sick, slimy feeling in his body that he’d been trying so desperately to ignore — he frantically searches Eren’s eyes for a distraction.

Fuck, those vibrant emerald eyes… they’re beautiful. So full of passion, so full of concern. There’s simply no way those are the eyes of a monster; Eren is being ridiculous, Floch says to himself.

But he knows what has happened to him. It just — this doesn’t feel like the same boy who did all those horrible things to him. It isn’t, and it is, all at once, and it makes Floch dizzy. He screws his eyes shut and hisses, holding his head for a moment and struggling to piece his swirling thoughts together.

“...What you did was fucking awful, yeah. I — fuck — I didn’t forget.”

Eren clenches his shaking fists and forces himself to speak levelly. “No Floch… I mean everything . All of it. Since we — since we fucking met.”

“Wh—” The slime in Floch’s body starts moving, spreading, seeping deeper into his muscles. “Dude, why do you wanna talk about all of that right now?”

Eren starts shaking and when he forces himself to look up and back into Floch’s face he can’t help but start laughing — he thinks it sounds a little deranged. “Why the fuck not? Might as well say it, right?”

“Eren, please —”

“For fuck’s sake, Floch —”

“Eren!”

“I — I almost raped you!”

“You didn’t!”

Floch pants and wheezes aggressively, damn near tearing his hair out, he’s pulling on it so hard. His ears are ringing, and his blood is racing through his veins. The slime sinks down to his bones and grafts onto them.

“You didn’t do that, Eren,” Floch repeats while slowly, persistently, shaking his head. “You stopped before you crossed that line. You said so yourself, didn’t you?”

“Does it even matter?” Eren chokes out wetly. “What if I didn’t stop? I — I could see you didn’t want it but I — I … I…” His voice breaks and he shakes his head helplessly. “Sina, Floch — how many times have you wanted to say no but just didn’t?”

Floch’s body caves under the weight of the shame-laden memories that crash over him at once — memories of too-public places, too-tight holds, too-deep thrusts — the memory of that stupid fucking “goodbye” kiss that spiraled into something much filthier than he bargained for.

There are too many moments to count. He refuses to try.

How many times will he be made to relive them?

If he hates them so much, then why the fuck can’t he bring himself to let them go?

“I… I guess I never wanted to say no badly enough,” Floch whispers to the grass. “If it meant that… that I could be closer to you…”

Floch’s heart twists sharply in his chest. He’s said too much. He’s said too much and his soul might as well be lying out in the grass right now for Eren to pick up and toy with. This is a fucking nightmare.

When will he ever learn to shut the fuck up?

“Oh, Sina …” Eren breathes out, shock and agony twisting the sigh into a groan. He closes his eyes and covers his face with both of his hands. Shuddering as he pulls in a breath and tries to calm himself down. 

There’s a part of him, however small, that wants to drop everything and fix this with Floch in the only way he knows how… surely if he made love to the boy it’d make Floch happy? Surely if he gave those kisses and touches that Floch craved it’d be enough to change those tears of pain into tears of joy?

And then what? Leave him again? Lead him on only to remind him that he can’t be anything else?  

Floch deserves better than something that’s just geared to fix Eren’s growing lake of guilt. Floch deserves better than Eren.  

“Floch. I’m — I’m not even sure you understand… if you ever — ever — wanted to tell me to stop — and you didn’t? Doesn’t matter how fleeting the thought was, that’s fucking wrong. You never said shit! I’ve never heard you say ‘stop’ until tonight. Shit, Floch that’s just —” Eren gasps, his voice wobbling even worse as he drops his hands to look at Floch again. “I… Floch this won’t ever get any better. Not if you can’t say ‘no’.” 

A tight, burning knot forms in Floch’s throat, and he claws at the grass beneath his shaking hands, ripping it from the ground. Every single time, Floch swallowed his fears and kept quiet for Eren’s sake — to give him what he wanted and make him happy — and all of that effort is making Eren angry now?

It doesn’t make sense… it just doesn’t.

Unless — unless Eren really would have stopped all those times if Floch had just said the word. Because of course Eren would — he’s not a monster. But all this time, Eren’s been fucking a boy who didn’t really want it, and Eren had no fucking idea.

Fuck —

But —

“No, you’ve got the wrong idea!” Floch’s voice is higher and more frantic but still just as broken. “I — it’s not that I — shit — I just…” 

“How the fuck do I have the wrong idea, Floch?” Eren yells, eyes wide and horrified as a sick sense of truth falls over him. “You’re telling me that you couldn’t say ‘no’ — and you would have if you could? So every time I — every time we… I was just…” His voice goes hoarse and he slaps a hand over his mouth, whispering the rest of his words as fresh tears start leaking from his eyes. “I was just raping you… ”

“No…”

It’s too horrific. It can’t be true, Floch screams in his head while fighting to get air into his starving lungs. Because if it is true, then the fact that he’s grown to like the rough handling over time — the fact that he patiently waits and prays for Eren to take him like that — all of that means that he’s really been yearning for…

He can’t say it. It’s sickening.

And it’s just not true, because —