Chapter Text
He wasn’t really sure how it started.
Looking back, could he have guessed this would happen? Was the charge always there, flinting like friction-raw kindlings, when they fought back then? It was curious that the first time it happened, it was long after they felled the last titan on their island. Danger had come to an end, at least for a time. None of them were familiar with that feeling of safety. Of security.
He thought it could be the absence of peril that allowed the seedling to sprout.
Jean hated him as much as he ever did, although he’d be lying if he said it was the same type of disdain. Back then, when they were basically just kids, everything about him made Jean’s blood boil. Even the sound of his voice made him want to pull his own hair out; Jean would have sold half his limbs if it meant he never had to see Eren again.
But that blind hatred evolved to a more advanced one; a bit more complicated. It would be impossible for it not to, considering what they’d been through together, but it didn’t mean his stupidity was any less annoying, or his brash way of thinking was any more enraging than it always was. It just meant that Jean’s very short temper with Eren didn’t result in Jean wishing Eren would disappear forever. Unfortunately, they were friends. Just not exactly the healthiest of them, nor each other’s favorites.
They used to pick fights with each other because it seemed like the only way to get their frustration out, considering both of them were too passionate and hot-tempered to be in close proximity without inflicting physical injury once in a while.
Then years passed, and they were still picking fights, but Jean was being a little more reserved when it came to seeing it through. Because fighting with Eren made him feel things he wasn’t ready to face.
Sometimes, though, he couldn’t avoid the fight. And he never really tried that hard to prevent it from happening, anyway.
The things he wasn’t ready to face never really felt all that bad.
And if they did fight, really, what was the worst that could happen?
His enraging voice must have been blathering on for minutes on end, each syllable of his words like another nail in Jean’s temples. The teeth in the back of his mouth were starting to ache at the way he was clenching his jaw.
“Are you even listening to me?” Eren snapped.
“Really, I’m trying so hard not to.”
Colors were starting to twinge the fringes of the clouds, marking the end of the day. The ride back to camp would take at least an hour, Eren still hadn’t begun to refill the fuel canisters they’d been ordered to bring back, and as each minute passed, Jean was getting closer and closer to total intolerance.
The feeling building up inside of him was a familiar one: burning anger that pressed on the walls of his chest, tingling the tips of his fingers as if daring him to curl them into fists. Jean put them against his temples, hoping the action would calm him somehow, but Eren’s goddamned, obnoxious voice was determined to penetrate any resolve he was scrambling to collect.
“It isn’t that hard, I don’t get why you’re being such a baby about it. We’re already here so just–”
“Would you shut up?” Jean growled. “You’re going to make my ears bleed.”
“If you do it now, then we won’t have to come back out here!”
He was talking about the damned firewood. It was currently piled inside the nearby shed, waiting to be halved, and Eren – whose job it was to fill the gas canisters – superfluously decided that if he was working, it meant Jean had to, too.
They were at the fieldhouse ten miles away from camp. It was a modest, recently built log cabin that was used to store fuel, firewood, and other essentials that the legion wanted to protect from the nearby sea, its storms, and the associated mist. Unfortunately, it could only be reasonably reached by horse and considering its distance from camp, a scout always had to accompany another.
Captain Levi just wanted fuel canisters refilled. Eren, who pissed Levi off that morning, was ordered to do it and Jean, who laughed when Eren threw a fit about it, was ordered to go with him. This was Eren’s errand, not Jean’s, and he refused to make it his problem.
“I’m just here as your babysitter. That’s my job. So go inside and do yours.” The stump that Jean was sitting on felt stiff and uncomfortable, and he shifted impatiently when he glared up at the brat that refused to leave him be. “Our orders were for that, and that alone.”
“It’s going to take me at least twenty minutes. You’re going to do nothing for twenty minutes? When you know that he’ll make us chop that shit up by next week?”
“Then we’ll chop it up next week.”
“What the hell is your problem?” Eren’s impatience was so infuriating. What did he have to be pissed about? “If you want to be a lazy shit, go home for awhile. I would give anything to be free of you for half a month.”
Jean pushed air out between his teeth, putting as much spite as he could manage into his eyes. Whenever this subject was mentioned, the taut wire responsible for keeping Jean’s temper in check always frayed and Eren damn well knew it. “No.”
“Why are you still such an ass? Go home and get out of my hair for a while, you’re driving me crazy.”
“Eren, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Just because the Scouts have been kissing your ass for the last three years doesn’t mean your head has the right to be as fucking huge as it is.”
“So I’m a narcissist because I’m pointing out that you should go see your mom?”
“Eren!” Jean shot to his feet, his resolve now depleted, the taut wire snapped. “My mom isn’t a bad person, but we don’t get along and you know that. I don’t like being home. So go inside the fucking field house, get the extra gas canisters like Levi told you to, fill them the fuck up, and let’s get back to camp. I’m over you right now.”
Eren’s eyes were dangerous and foul, but Jean liked seeing him like that. It was like watching the spark scratch off the match paper and burn the first dry pieces of grass beneath a pile of wood. If he wasn’t careful enough, he’d be burned – but Eren’s anger was undoubtedly a fiery display if he managed to keep his distance.
Unfortunately, his appreciation for Eren’s passion walked a line between respect and disgust. On the one hand, it could be admirable, against Jean’s better wishes. On the other, though, Jean was often on the receiving end of it and only one of them had the ability to heal after a fight.
That, and Jean never was very graceful when it came to lighting campfires.
“You’re over me?” Eren spat incredulously. There was a familiar flash in his eyes that reeled Jean in, washing him with that curious excitement that mixed with his own aggravation. “You’re an inconsiderate, unimaginative, grouchy excuse of a man who’d rather twiddle his thumbs than be even minutely productive and you’re over me?”
It was so easy to provoke him to this point. Although Jean was anticipating the sting of Eren’s knuckles, he was equally satisfied at the fact that he’d worked him up to such a fragile state.
“Yeah,” Jean agreed, taking a step forward. “I’m fucking over you.”
They hadn’t inflicted physical damage to each other in some time. Jean was always aware that if they got into a fight, neither of them would ever back down. They really were too similar and that pissed Jean off more than anything, that he had so much in common with someone he found nearly insufferable.
“You’re just being a coward, like you always are.” Eren mirrored the step forward so the distance between them shortened further. “Anytime something scares little Jeanbo he makes up some kind of excuse, “oh I’m just analyzing the situation”, and then he doesn’t do a fucking thing.”
“Like when that cute girl winked at me and I was so flushed that I could barely even introduce myself? And then I just ran away and never saw her again? Oh wait. That was you.”
Eren shoved Jean, hard, and Jean grunted at the way his back collided with the tree behind him. The space between them closed as Eren prowled forward and stuck his finger out, pointing sharply at him, and Jean’s now unmediated anger saturated into his throat. He really didn’t like being pointed at.
“You’ve been pissing me off more and more every day,” Eren sneered. A breeze replaced the air between their bodies and rustled Eren’s lengthening hair. “Why do I keep getting paired up with you?”
“I guess because they know they have to put someone with actual maturity to babysit your dumb ass.”
“Oh, and that’s somehow you?” The finger came forward again.
“Get your finger out of my face.”
“Of all the people back at camp to come out here with me, it had to be you.”
“Back up, Eren.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Make me.”
The bark of the tree bit into Jean’s and as he launched himself off of it, taking Eren by surprise at his sudden movement and with a quick, powerful motion, Jean grabbed that goddamned hand, pulled Eren forward, wrenched it behind his back, and pinned Eren’s chest against him so their faces were only inches apart.
There was something uncharacteristically sweet about it. Like the first swallow of honey-sweetened whiskey, where the sugar was present but only in the confines of something vitriolic and bitter. For a long moment, Jean glared down at the widened eyes plastered on Eren’s face, that shocked look enough to make Jean’s tight lips smile in satisfaction. He loved swiping that smug look off of him. To see those emerald eyes stunned.
There was always a fleeting moment before they began pummeling each other that made Jean feel something he couldn’t quantify. In the seconds between their directed insults and the feeling of bleeding knuckles was this curious transition, a glint between them that Jean didn’t bother to understand, and it blended in the colors between fury and the associated feeling of fervor.
Jean had been in a lot of fights before; none of them had the charge of zeal that he felt when he was at his wit’s end with Eren.
He felt it now.
“Go inside,” Jean whispered slowly, “and get the canisters. And then come back out here. And get on your horse. The sun is already setting; go.”
Eren nearly lost his footing when Jean shoved him roughly away, releasing the hand and forcing distance between them. Indignation briefly flashed over Eren’s still surprised face – although Jean couldn't be sure what was so shocking, considering he’d manhandled Eren a thousand times before – but Jean turned around so he wouldn’t give Eren the window to retaliate.
This time, if punches were to be thrown, Jean’s wouldn’t be the first – he knew Eren had detonated mines in the hopes that Jean would lose control, but he refused to give him that sort of satisfaction. But instead of a clumsy attack, like he half expected, he heard the sounds of Eren’s boots stepping over the worn wild oat grass and the fieldhouse door opening, and Jean knew he’d won.
There was a prickly feeling in the hand that held Eren’s arm. He stared at his palm, clenching and unclenching his fist curiously as he shook it away.
The tin of the canisters clinked together as Eren tied them to his horse’s trailer some time later. Jean was watching an owl side-step along a branch, his short beak nudging into a burrow. Watching that thing was a much better use of his time than swinging a stupid axe when he didn’t need to.
“You ready or what,” Jean said over his shoulder.
“Bet you feel pretty satisfied with yourself.” Eren’s voice was closer than he thought it would be and Jean spun around to face him. Eren’s demeanor was more calm, but there was a look on his face that made Jean immediately suspicious.
“What are you gonna do, cry about it?”
Eren’s brow twitched, fracturing whatever confident visage he was attempting to convey. He inhaled deeply and crossed his arms, considering Jean but saying nothing. Jean jutted his head forward and shot up his eyebrows.
“What?” Jean demanded. Eren certainly didn’t come back to apologize and his delay getting on the horse probably meant he was up to something. “See something you like? Quit staring at me.”
“Why the hell is your mouth always moving?”
Now Jean smiled widely, thoroughly amused at his response. Alright, so maybe Eren didn’t have some grand plan to get back at him; he was just being a fucking idiot and was trying to get the last word. Not intent on giving it to him, Jean started forward, giving Eren a condescending tap on the shoulder.
“You already filled the canisters,” Jean reminded sweetly. “So we’re done here.”
He moved to step around Eren, but was whipped around harshly by the elbow and in the slow seconds that followed, where Jean saw trees blurring past him and the rush of air bristled the hair on his face, he realized that the fight was inevitable, and strangely, he felt a rush of relief that he got to engage in it.
Jean managed to twist and soften Eren’s blow with his forearm, then he sprung upwards and sent a hardened fist into his ribs. Eren grunted, growled, then grabbed Jean’s shirt and yanked him forward. A hand went into the back of Jean’s hair and he wrenched it backwards, forcing Jean, who was taller than him, to stare down at him with a snarl.
“This mangy nest is getting a little long, don’t you think?” Eren whispered. He pulled him forward so Jean stumbled into him, his hands landing against Eren’s chest and shoulder, until they were close enough that Jean could smell the lingering scent of fuel on his clothes.
“Yours isn’t far behind,” Jean advised. “At least I brush mine. Ugh!” Eren jerked Jean’s head so his neck was fully extended and Jean couldn’t see him anymore.
Jean slammed a knee upwards into Eren’s stomach, but since they were already so close, and because Eren’s other hand was wrapped across his back to keep him in place, Jean wasn’t able to get much momentum. Eren made a sound as he absorbed the blow and readjusted his grip.
“Let go!” Jean commanded, bringing his knee up again, but Eren anticipated it, caught the inside of his knee, and with impressive strength, he twisted the both of them around so Jean spun beneath him and they fell to the ground. The air in Jean’s lungs pushed out at the impact of bearing their combined weight.
Eren finally released his hair, but Jean’s relief was only momentary as Eren was quick to try and restrain him. Not one to accept defeat until exhaustion, Jean started writhing beneath him, trying to wiggle free and worm his way out from beneath Eren’s body. He’d be damned if the fight ended this soon.
“Stop that!” Eren choked out angrily as Jean started banging his fists into Eren’s thighs. That had been a mistake that Eren quickly took advantage of and he snatched Jean’s wrists and slammed them against the ground, making his bones creak at the joints.
Jean cried out in frustration, absolutely livid that Eren had to go and ruin the only highlight to his day, and he started bucking his hips to knock Eren off balance. At the same time, he put all his energy into throwing his arms around to try and untangle Eren’s fingers from around them.
But Eren was strong, very strong, and he tightened his legs to keep Jean pinned beneath him.
There was a fast breeze beneath his arms as Eren yanked them up and slammed them back down on the ground, a silent communication from Eren to cease his struggles, and soon, both of them were heaving in breaths, exhausted and barely able to keep themselves from collapsing.
“Stop moving,” Eren panted after they started to still. “Just stop.” A bead of Eren’s sweat rolled down his temple and fell on Jean’s collar.
“Fine,” Jean gasped, staring past Eren’s head. “Good job. You attacked me when my back was turned.”
“No, don’t try and turn this around. You had a fair chance. Don’t be pissed about it.” Eren swallowed hard and took in another heave of loud air.
Jean looked away from the moving clouds and met Eren’s eyes. The way he was framed against the sky, his body directly above Jean’s, made him suddenly aware of their position and how tight Eren’s fingers were around his wrists. Eren shifted on top of him so more of his weight was applied.
There was a tightness in Jean’s lungs that was unrelated to the struggle they’d just had.
Was it because they hadn’t fought in so long? Jean suddenly couldn’t look away from him. The thighs on either side of his stomach were pressing into his sides, the skin holding him down was nearly burning. Eren shifted again, his hips drifting backwards, and Jean’s breath stuttered in his throat.
What, what is this? he thought in almost a panic. Had time frozen, or was Eren staring down at him as intensely as Jean was staring up? Why weren’t they speaking? Why is my chest so tight?
Eren’s face was – getting nearer? The several blinks Jean took did not shake away the uncertainty that was coiling in his stomach, and when he swallowed, he was surprised to feel how difficult the action was.
“What are you doing…?” Jean puffed. His head pushed into the ground as Eren came closer.
“I think…I’m winning,” Eren replied just as breathlessly.
“Winning?” he repeated dumbly.
“Yeah…”
He could feel the breath on his face.
“You didn’t win,” Jean said, trying to maintain his place in this exchange. “I told you, my back was to you. It was an ambush.”
“Good point.”
“Oh?” Jean dared. When had their voices stopped being shouts? Surely Eren was just trying to disarm him, but those eyes had Jean’s locked in place. More literally, so did his strong legs and unrelenting hands.
“Yeah.”
“So you admit it. I won.” Jean’s voice was nearly a whisper and quickly losing its hardness. “So why are you still on top of me?”
“I didn’t say you won. I said I’m winning. As in I will win.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Why is your mouth always moving?” Eren whispered, repeating his question from before. Jean stared up at him, momentarily lost for words, because surely that look on Eren’s face was some mutation of his annoyance, some confusing display of his indignation…
But that wasn’t what it looked like.
“...I–”
Eren slid Jean’s wrists up along the ground at the same time he brought his mouth onto Jean’s, kissing him with vigor and intensity, and the shock that traveled through Jean’s body was only half at the surprise of the embrace but also half at the effect of it. Jean shuddered and felt the oxygen escape his brain, leaving his mind empty and winded, his body more alight than it was when they were screaming at each other. The ferocity of Eren’s lips was an extension of fists that didn’t fly, an expression of his want to exchange ardor and even though they were filled with challenge, their movements were anything but painful.
Eren pressed even more into him, his hands squeezing on Jean’s wrists, the tops of his shoulders rubbing against Jean’s, and it wasn’t until Eren broke away that Jean realized he’d been kissing him back.
“What the hell was that?” he gasped, huffing. Jean swallowed hard, reeling in bewilderment, the dam in his mind breaking when their lips did and leaving him to flounder in the physicality of what just happened. “Are you nuts?”
Eren’s lips were pink and parted, and for a moment, Eren was lost in his own head as he himself tried to collect whatever was going on in that insane fucking brain of his. Surely, he was about to flounder in embarrassment and scramble off of Jean. He was going to say it was an accident or a mistake and demand they forget all about the fact that they’d just…
But then Eren’s mouth lifted in, what, a smile? Like he was suddenly pleased with himself. His eyes, filled with contentment, glanced back down at Jean’s lips and Eren breathed out a sound. It was something between disbelief and want.
“Wait–”
They were kissing again, but like the one previous, it wasn’t a kiss that Jean had ever felt before. It was full of power and every emotion that he’d never tasted in a kiss; a mixture of yearning, magnitude, sparking competition, and wild delirium. It made Jean’s previously jerking arms go slack as he was pressed into the ground and melted in his own state of disorientation.
When Eren’s tongue pressed past Jean’s lips, he groaned beneath him, feeling completely out of body and mind. He tasted like salt and resentment. The movement’s of Eren’s mouth were evocative enough to rustle the leaves beneath Jean’s body as his head shifted against them. They were drawing into each other, so unnaturally quick to follow the organic rhythm of the deepening kiss, that Jean barely had time to notice that one of his wrists had been freed before a hand was sliding up his shirt.
“Eren!” he gasped, breaking the kiss. What was happening? Every inch touched by those fingers was lighting up in wild charge and Jean twitched against the ground, whirling in the storm of his mind.
No longer having the hold on Jean’s mouth, Eren’s lips moved down and started biting at his jaw. Jean had to force out a breath, mindful not to put any voice into it, and he wondered if Eren had actually completely lost his sense.
The fingers gliding up Jean’s skin were smooth and graceful, nothing like the scarred, calloused ones that Jean had. Jean had known about Eren’s healing abilities for a long time now, but he never considered the effect it would have on keeping his hands so flawless – the dichotomy between Eren’s smooth skin and the pressure he was putting against Jean’s was almost hypnotizing and his mind was somehow churning in rapid thoughts without being able to decipher a single one.
Wait, wait, Eren is on top of me, feeling up my chest, and I’m–
A thumb brushed meaningfully over a nipple and Jean pushed out a meek cry, his body hitching under the touch, that charge bursting down to his groin, and Eren made another little sound again. Of disbelief. Of want. He leaned into Jean’s ear.
“You’re more sensitive than I thought you’d be,” he whispered, his low voice sending vibrations through Jean’s skull.
“Did you take something inside that fieldhouse?” Jean puffed back, his heart beating quicker than he thought it may ever have before. “A-are you out of your mind?”
“No,” he assured, “I know exactly what I’m doing.” Eren’s hand trailed down the center of Jean’s torso, then back up again, memorizing the way Jean’s muscles responded.
“And what is that?” Jean wished he could put more conviction in his voice, but he felt like he was losing any control he’d had over the situation. No, screw that, he’d lost control when he looked up at Eren pinning him down and noticed the way his legs had been positioned on either side of him.
Despite asking the question aloud, Jean already knew the damned answer, and he gasped and arched into Eren when that thumb joined with a forefinger and squeezed at the peak. He’s this intent on winning? Jean thought desperately. Enough to do this? With me?
The hand glided across his chest again, ghosting across the gentle slopes of Jean’s abdomen. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought his muscles were being appreciated, but he knew that couldn’t be the case. Eren was just trying to work him up. This was nothing more than an extension of their fight, wasn’t it? A new way for Eren to get back at him?
Jean could just say no. He could tell Eren to stop; he’d listen after all, and he would indeed stop. In fact, it would probably downright humiliate Eren to get rejected and, since Eren wasn’t actually a malicious person, he’d probably feel like shit for coming on so strong.
It was the perfect opportunity to bring Eren down to the level he belonged. It was the quickest, most effective way for Jean to get the upper hand, and all it would take was a single word for Eren’s stupid little pleased face to be crushed into the dirt.
A tongue was running along the stretch of skin where Jean’s neck met jaw. A hand was sliding over his stomach, making the hairs on his body stand up right. One of Jean’s arms was still pinned to the ground.
He didn’t have time to think about the implications of keeping his mouth shut before that roaming hand was pulling at Jean’s belt.
This was enough to knock some of the stupor away.
“Eren–!”
“Yeah?” Eren’s voice was barely audible.
The buckle clacked.
Fingers were moving to unclasp the buttons of his trousers.
Jean had enough time to say something. In fact, he couldn’t believe he wasn’t saying something – he blinked furiously, stupefied that his mouth was open but no voice was being emitted. Even more, it wasn’t that he couldn’t speak, but that he made the choice not to.
Because he didn’t want to.
Forget if Eren was out of his mind, but was Jean out of his, too?
The next breath he took had to be forced through the tightness of his throat because Eren’s torso shifted as his arm extended downwards and a hand slid over Jean’s underclothes. If Jean was going to say anything, he quickly forgot what it could have been. His head threw back as his mouth dropped open.
Eren took him between the inside of two fingers and started moving. The hand on Jean’s wrist tightened when Jean’s arm instinctively jerked at the sensation.
“Were you going to say something?” Eren asked, sounding so much different than Jean had ever heard it before. It was husky and quiet. Provocative. It made Jean’s task to breathe that much more difficult.
How was he so in control of this situation? It was maddening, it made Jean so furious to think that Eren had managed to drag himself out from beneath Jean’s finger and literally climb back on top of him. Every move he made with his hands was so assured. The kiss from before had no infliction of doubt or uncertainty and he’d even known, or at least strongly gambled, that he’d be able to put his hand in Jean’s pants without so much as a refute from Jean himself.
How did he know he could go this far? How did he know Jean wouldn’t gut him on the spot for doing it? How on earth did he ascertain so accurately that Jean would want this?
And seriously, was he really doing this just to win?
It was becoming more and more difficult to control his voice. Eren’s hand slipped beneath the fabric of his underclothing and when he took him again, the fingers exploring and pulling, Jean couldn’t stop the quiet gasp that was pulled out from his lungs.
Eren’s hand was hot, just like the rest of his body was. Jean knew his titan power let his temperature be slighter higher, but was it always so scorching? Eren’s mouth was on his neck again, biting at him, lips migrating upwards until they were tangled with Jean’s and they were somehow kissing once more.
Jean’s head was absolutely spinning. He could smell the dirt beneath his back mix with the fuel on Eren’s body as they moved against each other. The hand on Jean’s dick was assured but slow, adjusting to the size of Jean as blood continued to accumulate below, memorizing the shape of him, moving curiously to see the way Jean’s face twitched at every turn of his hand.
When Eren seemed satisfied with his exploration, the hand began to set an earnest, tight pace, pumping him devoutly and Jean couldn’t stop from moaning into the mouth above him.
This was insanity. This was infuriating. Eren was tasting Jean’s unravelment and Jean was giving it to him willingly. It was like he wasn’t in total control of himself, or if he was, it wasn’t the Jean he expected it to be, it was a part of him that Eren somehow managed to evoke so damn easily.
“You,” Jean muttered shakily, pulling away from Eren’s lips, “you fucking ass.”
He swore he felt a puff of air on his neck, as if Eren had quietly laughed, and Jean stuttered out a voiced exhalation when the hand left his pants. The ache it left behind was profound.
“And you,” Eren uttered into Jean’s ear, “are the pain in my ass.”
He pushed Jean’s shirt all the way up and bent to run a tongue over Jean’s nipple at the same time the hand went back down to his dick, pumping quickly and without sign of exhaustion, and Jean cried out fully, his free hand grasping at the grass and ripping up blades.
The charge in his lower belly was building.
Eren was going to make him come.
Shit.
The tongue moved back and forth against the nipple, working it like a switch, moving with it as Jean’s chest heaved up and down as his panting became deeper and more pronounced. Only minutes ago Eren had nearly been too tired to keep Jean pinned below him, how was his stamina so quickly replaced? By now Jean was writhing again, but where before it had been in an effort to get Eren off of him, now it was purely because Eren was on top of him.
“You know, Jean,” murmured Eren, his hand moving fast against him. “I hope when you come…it’s blinding.”
Jean could only gasp out a breath as a reply. The heat inside him was building and his free hand smacked against Eren’s moving arm, feeling the rhythm of it shifting up and down, the pace of it working his lower half into oblivion, and Jean pushed his neck into Eren’s lips as his cheek pressed into the ground.
His hips jerked downwards. Jean tensed, his fingers grasped Eren’s arm as eyes clenched shut, and Jean was hardly aware of the sounds he was making as he came onto Eren’s hand.
The beat of his heart was rapid and strong, banging against the walls of his chest, and the tsunami of feeling left him in a daze. A tongue ran back along his neck, licking at the sweat that had formed there, and he heard Eren wipe his hand off in the grass.
Eren lifted himself to a knee and smiled down at Jean, drinking in the sight of him slack against the forest floor. A few fingers brushed the hair out from Jean’s face as a last sign of his great victory, then he stood and walked away. Leather tussled against a horse’s back.
Jean’s breath was finally coming back to him. The sky’s pink hue was being chased by the blue of an early night. His eyes fluttered as he drank in the air.
Eren just wanked him to orgasm. He’d taken Jean to the ground, moved his lips across his body, pushed his tongue against Jean’s, and wanked him to orgasm. What a piece of shit. That fucking annoying, infuriating piece of shit.
Jean had loved every second of it.
Hooves patted against the ground. Eren came into view as he peered down at Jean’s still huffing, prone form, and that stupid smug face looked down at him.
“Come on, Jean, we came here to get the fuel, didn’t we?” he berated kindly. “It’s almost night, you know. We’d really better get going.”
Then he kicked into the sides of the horse and cantered off.
Jean cursed out loud to himself.
The back of Eren’s head was the only thing Jean could look at as they rode back to camp. Once in a while, the fucker would glance over his shoulder and give Jean a self-satisfied look. Sometimes he’d wink.
How was he so nonplussed?
As time went on and they got closer and closer to camp, Jean’s previous uncertainty was turning competitory. They’d disliked each other for years at this point. Their relationship was anything but normal as it was, and perhaps this side of their rivalry was a natural evolution that came with time. Well, that was a goddamned stretch – but he didn’t know what the fuck else to make of it.
Still, it was flabberghasting that Eren was so determined to win that fight that he not only stuck his hand down the pants of another man, but down the pants of the person he disliked the most of anyone on their squad. Seriously, his stubbornness transcended all boundaries.
When Jean came, he’d been in such a daze, even for a while after as he could barely concentrate on anything aside from keeping his eyes open. He thought back to that moment, wondering what Eren could have done to make his experience so powerful. Maybe it was just the shock of it.
Then there was a flash of memory; of Eren running his fingers through Jean’s hair and standing up to walk away. Jean’s eyes flicked to the back of Eren’s head again, his eyes widening as he remembered a vital detail he’d not been aware of until that moment.
Holy shit. Eren had been hard.
He could see it now, the bulge in Eren’s pants as he smiled that assured smile before abandoning the exhausted Jean to ready the horse. Jean laughed out loud, the memory slapping him out of nowhere, and Eren turned and looked at him strangely.
“What the hell are you laughing about?”
Jean recovered quickly and gave an innocent shake of his head.
“Just remembered something funny, that’s all.”
Not seeming overly convinced, Eren had no choice but to turn back around and ignore him.
I wonder if he still is.
This piece of knowledge shifted the way Jean had been thinking about this. Eren turned Jean into butter in order to win the fight, yeah, that was true, but he’d also done it because Jean turned him on.
There was something thrilling about that. He expected to be weirded out by it or at least startled at the fact, but on the contrary, it almost delighted him. Getting back at Eren was going to be so easy, now.
He just needed to be patient.
It was already dark by the time they got back to camp, but the white-hot anger billowing off of Levi’s head could have blinded cities.
“What the hell took you so long?” he demanded. “I was about to send someone out to look for you.”
“Eren was trying to interpret your orders.” Jean slid off the horse and started unclasping the trailer from Eren’s. “I tried to tell him to quit stalling but he wouldn’t listen.”
“And Jean spent his time doing nothing while I refueled the canisters. By the time we left, all he managed to do was roll around on the ground.” He inserted a meaningful pause. “Bird watching, or something.”
Subtle, you dumb shit.
“If you return after sunset again, both of you are on latrine duty for a month. You got that?”
“Yes sir,” they both mumbled in unison. Levi stalked away, leaving them to shelve the canisters in the supply shed.
“If you had just listened to me, we could have avoided all of that.”
“All of what?” Eren asked suggestively.
“Getting threatened with latrine duty and further pissing off our C.O.”
“Is that it?”
Jean picked up a canister and took a step into Eren. Profound eyes stared sharply back at him, many emotions coming together to give them their distinctive edge. Eren was asking if Jean regretted it.
“Yup,” Jean quipped. I don’t, and I know you don’t either. “That’s it.”
He stepped away and shelved the unit.