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“You can open your eyes now, Jean…” Eren’s husky voice cuts through the metallic sound of the ocean lapping against the ship’s hull and the annoyingly persistent crying of the seagulls.
Stupid birds.
The chirping slowly fades away; the crashing of the waves and the distant roar of rumbling stops. Dusty and draughty wafts of air come in, replacing the mix of salty scent and burnt engine oil stink.
Jean’s eyelashes flutter as he fights off the sleep, his nostrils flare, and his nose wrinkles. This smell… is familiar, although long but forgotten. There is a faint squeaking of the wood and frail clinging of the ODM gear. Their old ODM training field? What the hell?
“Open your eyes, Jean.” A warm breath coming from Eren’s mouth grazes Jean’s ear. His voice is thinner, younger…
“Eren? What are you doing here? And what…” Jean’s own voice surprises him. It comes with his teenage, cranky, off-pitch undertone he fortunately left behind a couple of years ago. So, what the hell is happening now?
He rakes his fingers through his hair… but his carefully grown, long strands are back to the stupid spiky undercut. “What have you done now, you idiot?”
Jean’s hand drops from his head and his palm balls into a fist. The suicidal maniac’s taking it too far once again.
“Calm down, Jean…” Eren snorts out his annoying laughter, and the usual raging spark that appears every time Eren gets on Jean’s nerves spirals through his veins. “I just wanted to talk to you. I thought we could take a stroll down memory lane. I guess there’s something I need to tell you…”
“What kind of bullshit move is that?” Finally, Jean opens his eyes, and a dry, whistling gust of air carrying the scent of dirt washes against his face. Southern Division of Training Corpse barracks appear in front of him in all their weathered glory.
“Let’s walk…” Eren says, his voice somewhat softer. As their steps fall into the rhythm, the gravel of the training ground scrapes loudly against their boots.
The Training Corpse abandoned this place years ago. Have they even used it after the 104th graduated and joined the military?
Commander Shadis moved the training grounds closer to the harbour, to Shiganshina, just in case, and Floch… guess the Yeagerists don’t need those old facilities anymore. The wooden barracks, the watchtowers, and the bells announcing the curfew have suffered irreparable damage going through the weather of changing seasons and the time flow with no one to care about repairing it anymore.
A sigh rips out of Jean’s throat. It’s hard to imagine it’s been only seven years since they were standing here, naïve recruits under the overwhelming expanse of sky, burnt by the relentless rays of the midday sunlight and whipped by the drafts of dry wind, drilled by commander Shadis. A shiver runs through Jean’s body at the memory of that day and the humiliation… and at the same time, it all has changed in the blink of an eye. A cramp seizes Jean’s jaw as his teeth greet at the memory of the events at the Paradis harbour.
“That brings us back, doesn’t it?” Eren lets out a throaty laugh, and Jean’s nostrils flare. Stupid maniac. What is Eren planning to do, humiliate him even more…
“Oh, shut it! Care to tell me what’s that all about, you…”
“Suicidal maniac? You idiot? Is this what you were going to say, Jean? Fitting, isn’t it?” Eren breathes a raspy laughter out of his nose and rests on his heels, wrapping his fingers around Jean’s wrist.
The gesture brings Jean to an abrupt halt as well, and an unexpected laugh finds its way out of Jean’s mouth.
They stand in the middle of the training ground, and their surprised outburst of laughter turns into heavy breathing.
“That’s not even funny, Eren.”
“I happen to disagree. It ‘is’ funny,” Eren says, taking a deep breath. Unexpected seriousness shapes his face. “You’re the only one who understood that about me from the beginning. Even before I did myself.”
“It is ‘ironic’.” Jean’s chest rises as he takes a few rapid, shallow breaths. “What difference does it make if you didn’t listen to me? And nobody else did.”
“You’re wrong about that, Jean… It makes all the difference…” Eren’s voice drops to a barely audible whisper. Dust-laden wind plays with the shock of Eren’s teenage unruly hair, bringing back more memories of their cadets’ days. “To me.”
“You’ve completely lost your mind. Even I didn’t think it was possible anymore.”
“Really… poor Jean. So clueless.” A snort comes out of Eren’s mouth, and then he takes a step forward, pulling Jean through the gravelled training ground towards the old wooden barracks. “Let’s get inside and have a drink, like the good old days.”
“Why are you suddenly all mushy and nostalgic? How does any of this now make sense with all your bullshit of a rumbling happening?” Jean coughs out as they stroll through the training ground, then climb the stairs leading towards the porch wrapped around their old canteen’s building. Wooden steps creak under their weight.
The inside of the canteen is as dim as it used to be, only now hardwood tables and benches are covered with a thick layer of dust and nets of cobwebs are woven in the corners of the timber rafter frame. The indoor air is stale, redolent with dirt and permeated with the aroma of all the cadet meals they shared in this space. The reek of Sasha’s farts still lingers somewhere under the tables, too.
Jean can’t help it. He leans against the wooden door frame with his eyes shut, and as a bitter taste of memories slides down his throat, awakening a burning smell he’d never forget, a wave of nausea rolls through his body.
“Yeah, this place reminds me of Marco, too.” Eren’s voice cuts through the dizziness in Jean’s head, bringing him back to the here and now.
“How did you know I was thinking about him?” Jean opens his eyes and shoots Eren a side glance. Eren’s lips tweak in a half-assed smirk, and his shoulders flinch in a dismissive shrug.
“Don’t forget that he was my friend, too. I think about him often. Now, let’s have a drink.”
A shard of startle mixed with a wave of sudden anger punches Jean in the chest, and he opens his mouth but bites back a snarky comeback—Eren’s right. Marco respected Eren, who looked up to him. Jean doesn’t own the grief, pain, and memories. He lets out a sigh and follows Eren, who has settled at the only clean, magically set-for-two table with a pair of old-fashioned mugs Jean remembers from the night of their graduation and a tall bottle of what seems to be a Marleyan wine.
“You coming, or what?” Eren raises his thick, brown eyebrows, wielding the bottle in Jean’s direction.
As Jean slides into the opposite bench, Eren opens the wine and tops both mugs. Jean leans forward, wrapping his fingers around the mug, and the wooden seat grunts under his weight.
He lifts the wine to his lips but hesitates, searching for Eren’s eyes. The dim light reflects off Eren’s grey irises, and it’s impossible to rightfully tell if it’s just the reflection or if there’s a hint of mischief hiding behind Eren’s unfazed expression.
“It’s alright, you can drink it. It ain’t spiked with Zeke’s spinal fluid if this is what you’re worrying about, I promise.” A quick smirk flickers over Eren’s mouth. “Jean, if I wanted to… you’d be dead by now, don’t you think?”
A strange, warm wave of emotions washes from Jean’s neck to his forehead, leaving his cheeks burning. His stomach heaves at the thought of the filthy ruse with the wine and the fact that both Eren and Floch were aware of it. Jean’s jaw hardens again, and he blinks to keep his tears in place.
“Then what’s that all about?” Jean coughs out through his clogged throat.
There’s a long silence before Eren lifts his face, and they meet each other’s eyes.
“I… I have a confession to make. Something I should have told you long ago…” Eren takes a deep breath. “Since you’ve been so self-absorbed, you haven’t figured it out by now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe have a drink first…” Eren’s neck twitches with a heavy swallow, and Jean pulls his gaze away from Eren’s suddenly teary eyes and intently studies his mug’s content. The surface of the red liquid ripples as Jean’s hand shakes. He swirls the wine and sniffs it before having a taste.
If Eren’s lying about the spinal fluid… no, he’s not. He might be a total idiot and a suicidal maniac, but he’s not a liar. Fine… he likely told some lies to Armin and Mikasa that miserable day, but this was different, or maybe there was even some truth in Eren’s cruel words…
Jean’s head spins.
Eren has never lied to him. They have always been painfully honest with each other, never holding anything back. Since the first time they talked, they were upfront, with no filters or fake pleasantries. When he thinks about it, it’s always been something Jean has valued about Eren and their rough, around-the-edges relationship—direct, rusty honesty.
Jean lifts his eyes and casts Eren a look through his eyelashes. He considers Eren’s face long and hard—its familiar, rounded shape, sharp chin and angry eyebrows; Eren’s shapely nose and lips, and above all, huge, expressive eyes framed with long eyelashes. It has never occurred to Jean before, but Eren’s pleasant to look at; he might even draw him some time. Jean’s charcoal pens have become rusty through all these years, but he still remembers how to use them. Once it’s all over… he’d have something to remember Eren by.
Sudden pain makes Jean’s heart twist in his chest, and he takes a sip out of his mug. The sharp taste of young wine slides against his palate, leaving a cedar-laced pine wood aftertaste. A fleeting grimace wrinkles Jean’s face, and Eren snorts.
“I see. You don’t like my taste in young wine.” The voice coming out of Eren’s mouth is laced with his childish, challenging tone, but the adult meaning of the words is a sobering reminder of their situation. Eren had a lot of time to discover the flavours of Marley’s fine spirits.
Jean takes another sip and licks his lips.
“Doesn’t matter. What about the confession you have to make,” he says, lifting the mug to his mouth again. The third gulp goes in easily, and the wine tastes not so bitter anymore.
Eren takes a deep breath, then lets the air out with a sigh.
“Right... I think… I know… I like you, Jean.” Eren blurts out, then hides his cute, pink, blushing face behind his mug. “I did since the moment I saw you for the first time.”
“What did you just say?” Jean chokes on another sip of the wine, and his face warms up. His heart gallops in his chest.
“You’ve heard me, Jean. I said I liked you. No, I have been in love with you, horseface!” With a loud thud, Eren sets his mug on the wooden table, and an annoyed huff escapes his nostrils. His cheeks blush pink angrily, and again, he hides behind the collar of his cadet uniform.
“Right, oh, ok…” Strange, warm feelings seep through Jean’s veins. A wave of heat touches his face, and he trains his eyes on the dregs of wine at the bottom of his mug. How has he missed it? “Since when has this been going on?”
“You’re such an oblivious jerk! I just told you…” Eren’s eyes darken, and he slams his fist on the table. Their mugs and the bottle of wine bounce, and Jean needs to steady them with his palms.
“Hey, calm down. I’ve asked you a simple question.”
Eren nostrils flare, and he spears Jean with such a troubled glare full of hurt and despair, and something soft and vulnerable, that a sudden shiver ices Jean’s body and painful realisation shudders his heart.
“Eren…”
“I…” Eren scoffs, and his chin trembles with tears, but he sucks in his quivering breaths and calms down after a while. “Fine. I guess that’s how this conversation has to go. I noticed you on the first day, during the … drill with Shadis.” He sniffles, then lets out a soft laugh. “It was hard not to, with that big head and the horse-face of yours.”
Jean winces internally, but the tears glistening in Eren’s eyes and hanging to his jaw soften his usual harsh reactions.
“That joke never gets old, doesn’t it?” He gives Eren a crooked smirk.
“Never.” Eren wipes his nose with the sleeve of his uniform.” But you deserved it. Admit it.”
“For what? For calling you out on your bullshit?”
“Damn it! Don’t you think it was you who were full of bullshit back in the day, asshole?”
Jean looks straight into grey, stormy eyes, and Eren looks back at him. Their gazes meet, and their stares soften after a loaded minute of a hostile glaring contest.
“It seems we are worth each other…” Jean empties his mug.
“Like two peas in a pod.” A lingering snigger comes out of Eren’s mouth, and he sniffles the last snotty tears hanging from his nose and tops both of their mugs.
“A match made in hell.” Jean snorts and takes a sip of the newly poured wine.
A frantic whirlwind of thoughts tears through Jean’s mind, and his heart quickens its beat. Is Eren serious? How could he miss that?
“I know what you’re thinking, Jean. Your face tells it all.” Eren sets his mug, puts his elbow over the tabletop and leans forward like he used to do as a kid back in the barracks during their cadet times. His chin rests over his palm, and Jean can’t avert his gaze. “But it’s funny that through all these years, it never occurred to you that I was just looking for a fight to get close and touch you. And you fell for it every single time… I bet you’d fall for this right now…” A corner of Eren’s mouth curls in a smug, all-knowing sneer and an immediate jolt of anger shoots through Jean’s veins. His palm itches and his fingers instinctively curl into a fist.
“See…” Eren barks out a smarmy laughter. “Like a clockwork… Tell me, why is that? Have you ever thought about us? Don’t tell me you’ve never considered…”
Fire blazes across Jean’s cheeks, and the stubborn, stupid heart in his chest goes haywire. He can’t control the windstorm of feelings anymore. Eren studies his face with his eyebrows arched and an unsettling flame burning in his enormous, staring eyes.
“Stop doing that, you asshole. Reading other people’s minds is creepy.”
Eren laughs.
“I can’t read your mind, asshole, at least not the way you think I do.” He reaches over and brushes away a loose strand of hair from Jean’s forehead. “But it’s painted all over that stupid horseface of yours.” Before retracting his palm, Eren grazes Jean’s cheekbone, then his thumb slides all the way down, tracing the contour of Jean’s jaw, and a tingle scales down his spine.
Jean narrows his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. A desperate grunt rips out of his throat. The idiot has managed to rile him up exactly like he wanted to, but the sensual touch still lingers over his skin, and it feels… good.
“Don’t be angry,” Eren says softly. “You are adorable when conflicted and confused. And you can’t deny it, Jean. We always worked well together. The competition, the challenge…”
“The jealousy. I know you were jealous of my ODM skills…” Jean raises his eyebrows and smirks with quiet satisfaction, noticing a sudden blush washing over Eren’s cheeks.
A brief squint crinkles the corners of Eren’s eyes; then, he bores his intense gaze into Jean’s brain.
“Maybe… but everyone knew these things between us…” Another wave of blush whooshes through Eren’s cheeks. “Things between us made us better, more competent… You also can’t deny this…” With a flick of his wrist, Eren waves in the space between them. “The rivalry, the competition, this has always worked for us. Marco knew it, Reiner knew it, Annie knew…”
“Annie?! What the hell does Annie have to do with that?!”
Eren chuckles, and Jean’s face scrunches into a suspicious squint before he can control it.
“Remember that little trick Annie taught me? One of our first fights here? I remember it like it was yesterday.” Eren lets out a sigh, and an unexpected mist clouds his gaze. Jean’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. Does Eren remember something that happened so long ago? “You’ve stopped slacking at hand-to-hand combat after that, trying to up your game to beat me the next time. It made me proud. Who would have thought?” Eren tosses his head and the wild, brown shock of Eren’s teenage hair whips against his forehead.
“Who would have thought ‘what’?” Jean spits the words out through his gritted teeth.
“That a self-absorbed Jean, dreaming of hiding in the interior with a safe job as an MP and the thumb deep in his ass, would become one of the veteran Scouts and now join the Alliance. You’ve become something, Jean… you don’t even know how proud you made me…” Eren’s gaze lingers on the table, and he wraps his fingers over the slim neck of the bottle between them. “More wine?”
“Yes, but can we maybe go back to our adult selves? It’s creepy to have this conversation and drink wine as a thirteen-year-old. And watch your kiddie ass getting drunk like Pixis used to do.”
Something in Eren’s eyes glistens in a way Jean can’t quite explain, but his whole body heats, and he can’t quite tell if it’s the wine or something else.
“We could, but not just yet. I have more places I want to visit.” Eren leans over, bringing their faces within the same breathing space. “And before that… I need to do one more thing… something I always wanted to do as a thirteen-year-old…”
Before Jean can react, Eren props his forearm on the table, angling his body in Jean’s direction. Jean slopes forward instinctively. They meet halfway, sharing a boyish, sloppy kiss, and Eren’s lips tug up against Jean’s in a lingering, self-satisfied smirk. Jean’s heart slams against his ribcage as loud as a hundred thunder-spears, so loud he can barely hear Eren’s breathing. Eren tilts his face, getting a better angle, and presses his mouth harder to Jean’s. His lips part and a sudden wave of courage washes over Jean as he dares to slip his tongue—just the tip—between Eren’s parted lips. A shiver rakes through Jean’s body when their wet tongues touch, and he savours a faint fruity taste of wine in Eren’s mouth. He teasingly gives a lap to Eren’s tongue with his own.
A swirling vortex of wind wraps around Jean’s body, and tears through his hair. Jean chokes on the wrath of a thick, scorching stench of burning wood and flesh.
There’s no more Eren’s soft lips on his, but there’s a familiar steam, an organic, musky warmth scenting the air around and fighting its way into Jean’s nostrils, choking him. His green scouts’ cloak flutters in the airflow. Jean’s body tenses as he’s forced to balance rapidly while everything shifts and shakes. His fingers curl, and he instinctively tightens them for support around thick, silky hair shafts.
Realisation dawns on him.
Eren’s titan. Shiganshina.
The heat of burning roofs and flying debris sting Jean’s cheeks. Titan’s heat hangs over the shattered, broken city that used to be Eren’s home, and sweltering, seething sounds surround them. Jean’s heart stills in his chest in a sudden pain, and his hand holding to the dangling Eren titan’s hair clenches.
“Eren?! What the hell? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He lifts his head to look at Eren’s big face and meets the huge, intense eye framed with long, thick eyelashes. Its pupil flares, and the graphite iris is filled with light, glistening with emotions against the background of the sky wreathed in the ominous grey clouds.
A low groan comes from Eren’s titan mouth, and he shakes his enormous head. Long strands Jean’s been holding float around, and he slips, barely avoiding a fall.
“Hey, what are you doing, you idiot?” Jean entwines his fingers tighter into Eren’s hair and sets his feet apart, regaining the balance.
Eren’s groan lowers into a purr, and the spark in his eye softens. He reaches out and wraps his long fingers around Jean’s back. All of his nerves spark with excited shivers at Eren’s touch.
“What…?”
Jean can’t finish the question when Eren’s palm closes around him. Eren lifts him off, kneeling on the ground, then sets him gently in the narrow cobbled street between the weathered, abandoned buildings of Shiganshina district.
“Eren?” Jean blinks twice, then looks up to where Eren’s been kneeling in his titan form, only to encounter the void.
“Hey, horseface! Over here!” Eren’s human, sixteen-year-old self yells from the other side of the street, traverses across the pathway and turns the corner, waving his hand for Jean to follow.
“Eren, wait!” Jean screams his lungs out, then breaks into a canter and chases Eren across the cobbled pathways.
Shattered glass, burned wood, and stone debris scrunch under Jean’s feet as he runs through the narrow alleys, catching up with Eren at the well-worn dirt road covered with rocks and overgrown with grass and bushes, winding between half-burnt buildings.
“So… what are you doing? What’s all of this?” Jean asks, his voice breathy from racing after Eren. “Why would you take us here, of all places?”
“I wanted to show you something,” Eren says as they walk side by side, their arms brushing. “And I couldn’t help myself. You were quite impressive that day. I wanted to relive the memory of Jean being commanding and decisive, standing on my titan.”
“Seriously?” A wave of heat washes over Jean’s cheeks, and he presses his palm against the heart galloping in his chest.
Eren slows and lowers his head, watching his steps and feet drag through the piling dirt. He kicks the debris and rocks as he walks. Jean shoots him a brief once-over, and Eren’s face turns red.
“Seriously. We made a good team back then.”
“We did. I wish we still would.”
Getting closer to the wall, they climb wide stone steps in silence. The houses in the area seem even more damaged, with wrecked walls overgrown with weeds and stone-riddled roofs. The colossal titan’s fire didn’t spread this far, and the devastation didn’t seem fresh.
Eren comes to a halt in the middle of the road, among stones and scattered belongings. The goosebumps pebble Jean’s skin as a sudden draft of wind howls through the cracks in the wooden boards of a house wrecked by an enormous boulder.
“Is this…?”
“My house,” Eren says in a low and barely audible tone. He takes a deep breath, then corrects himself, raising his voice. “My home. I wanted to show it to you before I…”
“Eren…” Jean’s heart breaks into a thousand little pieces, and his eyes gloss over with a sudden wetness. He wraps his fingers around Eren’s wrist and pulls him into his embrace. Eren doesn’t resist and falls softly into Jean’s arms.
“This might be stupid… but I…” Eren breathes heavily into Jean’s chest. “I met your mom, Jean. I wish you’d met mine. She would have liked you. Be nice to your mom when I’m gone, Jean-bo.” Eren sniffles and Jean’s throat clogs with emotions. His grip over Eren’s body tightens, and he buries his face in Eren’s hair, kissing the top of his head.
A salty waft of the sea breeze moistens the surrounding air, and the gawking of a seagull comes from above. Jean tilts his head and meets the vastness of the blue sky dotted with cotton-puff clouds, stained with a thick, black trail of smoke coming from a steamship’s chimney. They are no longer in Shiganshina, but this place seems familiar.
The bleating of goats mixes with the roar of a car’s engine passing right in front of them—a billowing dust left in its wake scrapes against Jean’s throat.
“Are you coming, Jean, or what?”
Eren stares at him with a teasing grin, standing under a striped awning of the ice cream cart. He’s wearing the tailor-made three-piece navy tweed suit—matching Jean’s—they made them wear for their Marley visit, and he looks stunning. Jean closes the distance with a couple of long steps.
“Why are we here, Eren?” Jean leans over the cart, puckering his lips as his mouth waters at the memory of the taste of the ice cream.
“You wanted more wine, didn’t you? But I wanted to do something else first. I wanted…” Eren pays for two cones and hands one over to Jean. He gives it a tiny lick, and his otherwise brooding face brightens. “To taste it with you.”
“I didn’t think you were that interested in ice cream when we were here before…” Jean narrows his eyes, fighting the urge to bring the cone of taste to his mouth and dip his tongue into the creamy sweetness.
Something dark flickers over Eren’s face, stealing the light from his eyes. Jean’s heart clenches.
“Right. That was… I wasn’t in my right mind back then. I still…” Eren licks his parched lips. His eyebrows curve with a plea. “Can we just pretend and enjoy the moment, Jean?”
A gasp rips from Jean’s lips, and his mouth falls open. He stares at Eren with an appalling surprise. It becomes too hard to catch a breath.
“I…” With his heart pounding in his throat, Jean swallows and plays along. “I thought you wanted to share the ice cream with Mikasa.”
Eren’s shoulders droop and his eyes crinkle into a squint.
“Dickhead.” Eren’s voice is seething with the usual challenge, but there’s a hint of a devilish grin dancing over his lips. “You were so busy with Connie and Sasha that you didn’t even pay attention to me.”
“Yeah… next time, move your brooding ass and tell me what you want, alright.” Jean’s mouth shapes into a pouting grimace. “I seriously assumed you wanted to taste the ice cream with Mikasa.”
Eren’s face darkens, and a shrug rolls through his shoulders.
“Are you jealous? I thought, of all the people, ‘you’ were into Mikasa.” Eren takes a couple of shaky steps away from the cart. “I’ve already told you how I feel.”
Eren’s words and the tension linger in the space between them, and Jean freezes in place, his face flushed with a sudden wave of heat. He doesn’t know what he feels anymore.
“I… I thought I were…into Mikasa.” He inhales sharply, his heart pounding. The words that come next out of his mouth surprise even himself. “But I’m not sure anymore… I think I’ve always liked you, too. I might have been jealous of ‘you’.”
They walk away from the cart, taking a stroll along the Marley promenade and enjoying their ice cream. The weather is nice; the sky is blue, and the warm breeze grazes their cheeks. Their steps fall into a rhythm as they make their way, avoiding bumping into the Marleyan crowd—perfect day for a perfect date.
Jean takes a lick of his ice cream, and its vanilla sweetness melts in his mouth. With his eyelids lowered, he gives Eren a once-over, and the sight leaves him breathless. With his eyes half-closed and the tip of his tongue buried in the white, cascading mass of ice cream, Eren’s enjoying the simple taste of the sweet treat on a sunny day, and on the mere thought it’s not real, it all happening in a dream, Jean’s whole body aches.
He takes a last lick of his ice cream, drops his palm on Eren’s shoulder, and pulls him close. Their faces crush and their mouth connect in a mind-blowing, desperate kiss. Their tongues entwine, and the sweet flavour of the ice cream lingers in their mouths.
Jean’s free palm slinks up the lapel of Eren’s suit, then slides underneath. The soft fabric of Eren’s cotton shirt crumples between his fingers, and after a while of exploring, Jean closes his palm around Eren’s tie and yanks him even closer. Their tongues clash, then lap against each other.
Eren presses his body tighter against Jean’s chest. He responds to Jean with a rough, carnal, devouring kiss. Aroused heat flows between them and makes their ice-creams melt, but they don’t pay it any attention, lost in exploring their mouths.
They never make it to the bar and drink the wine Eren promised to Jean. The steady roar of the revving engines and spinning of the rotor blades reverberates in the air instead. The wind whips against the oblong shape of the aircraft. A familiar sting of the ODM gas gets into Jean’s nose, and his nostrils flare. Everything else around stinks of sweat, metal and the leather of the new ODM uniforms, and just like that Jean’s reminded how tight and arousing the new uniform could be against the body. He takes a deep breath.
“So, here we’re finally alone,” nineteen-year-old Eren says, his voice as harsh and cold as the steel of his gaze. “You can punish me all you want now. Didn’t Levi leave the punishment to you, commanding officer Kirstein?” He watches Jean intently through the fringe of his overgrown hair, his lips curling up in a smug sneer.
The sound of heavy boots scuffing on the aircraft floor, the laughter muffled by the aircraft’s wall and the jingle of the metal parts of the equipment seep through the wall, reminding Jean where they are. He hears Floch’s encouraging toast loud and clear, and his brows furrow. Eren’s shoulder twitches in a dismissive shrug, but he keeps eyeing Jean, the tease and… something else glistening in his gaze.
“What did you say?” Jean says, overcoming a lump growing in his throat.
“How will you punish me, commanding officer Kirstein?” Eren spells every word loud and clear. His teasing tone sneaks under Jean’s skin, leaving him hot, longing and conflicted. His dick hardens and scrapes against the leather of his uniform. “Didn’t you want to punish me for Sasha’s death?”
“Eren.. you…” A groan rips out of Jean’s lips, and he leans over the aircraft wall, pinning Eren’s body between his forearms. He grabs a handful of Eren’s hair and balls his fingers into a fist.
Their chests press against each other, and there’s anger mixed with arousal rushing through Jean’s body. Their breaths mingle in the tight space between them. Being that close to Eren again hits Jean like a thunder-spear, setting his body ablaze, but Eren’s words about Sasha resound in his head. The way Eren looks at Jean rips his heart right out of his chest.
Jean’s eyes cram shut, and he breathes slowly, with deliberate ins and outs, trying to silence the white noise of conflicted thoughts and feelings humming in his head.
Eren writhes under Jean’s body weight, and all of Jean’s nerve endings spark. Tension swirls around them, hot and heavy, shrouding them in want, separating them from everything else happening on the aircraft, and Jean can’t stop himself anymore.
With a deep growl of frustration, he slams the wall next to Eren’s head with his fist, and he slants his mouth over Eren’s in a silencing, punishing kiss.
There’s no way they could stop now.
There is no way to go back after this.
Eren’s mouth opens to Jean’s kiss, and their tongues immediately slither against each other. The way their bodies fall into a rhythm, working together when they share open-mouthed kisses, overwhelms Jean.
It awakens every cell, every nerve, every muscle in Jean’s body. When Eren wraps his arms around him and his long fingers roam over Jean’s back, every drop of blood in Jean’s body boils.
Letting the fistful of Eren’s hair go, Jean slides his palms down Eren’s body and grabs his hips. Shiny black hair spills back to Eren’s shoulders, tickling Jean’s jaw, and its intense, musky scent fills his nostrils.
His fingers clench at the sides of Eren’s lean hips. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Eren’s, trying to catch a breath, but Eren claims back his lips, greedy, not letting them drift apart.
Jean pulls Eren’s hips closer to his body, and their groins press together, hips grinding and the growing bulges in their pants bumping and rubbing against each other.
Jean’s grip tightens over Eren’s hips, and he pushes their bodies even closer together. Their cocks grow harder, wrestling through the thick fabric of their clothes against the harshness of the leather of the ODM uniform and the clinging of its metal elements.
Eren moans deep into Jean’s throat and digs his nails deep into Jean’s back. His whole body trembles as Jean grinds his hardened, sensitive cock into Eren’s groin, the leather scraping against its flesh, sending electric currents through its length.
“Jean…” A raspy, stifled sigh squeezes past Eren’s lips. “Please… touch me…”
Jean swallows hard; his eyes narrow in a squint, and a devilish grin quirks his lips.
“Touch you? Touch you like that?…” After a loaded couple of seconds of fumbling with Eren’s clothes, he works his fingers under the waistband and frees Eren’s titan-hard cock. He wraps his palm around its girth and gives it a couple of long pulls. Eren’s back arches against the aircraft’s wall. “Oh, you like that…Now kiss me…”
Jean lets out a growl, then brings his mouth to meet Eren’s, and his lips command Eren to obey and open up to his sneaking tongue. The kiss escalates quickly, and the urge to grind his throbbing dick against Eren’s, skin to skin, flesh to flesh, one slick, soft head against the other, overwhelms Jean.
With Eren’s cock trapped between their torsos and squeezed between their taut, chiselled abs, Jean reaches out for his dick. It springs eagerly out of the confines of the leather uniform and, driven by its own will and desire, slides against Eren’s cock.
Jean makes a fist around the both of them and slides his trembling palm up and down their cocks. Husky, muffled, guttural moans and groans of pleasure rip out of both of their throats.
As the warm waves of arousal roll through him, Jean’s body tenses. A little fluid leaks out and wets his palm, but he can’t even tell if it’s Eren’s or his own pre-cum. Maybe it came out of both of their tips and slick out their cocks and Jean’s stroking hand.
He picks up the pace. They are both rock-hard and ready; they won’t last long. A couple of hard, steady pumps and pulls, and they will both fall over the edge.
Jean sucks in a breath; he wants the moment to last a little longer, to draw out their pleasure. His fingers coil a little tighter over their cocks. He gives them one more fast stroke, then slows down.
Eren whines in Jean’s throat in protest, and Jean slides his tongue softly along Eren’s tongue, soothing him, before pulling out.
He kisses Eren’s lips briefly, then plants a small kiss on Eren’s nose.
“That’s supposed to be a punishment…” He whispers against Eren’s lips. He grazes the head of Eren’s cock with his thumb, and more pre-cum leaks out. Eren’s head tilts backwards, and his cock grows as if it was even humanly possible, straining towards Jean’s.
“Punishment… you say…” Eren laughs with the hoarse, husky laughter of his. He rocks his hips and grinds them harder against Jean’s. Their dicks squeezed in between their abs come alive again as Eren’s midsection moves in a steady rhythm against Jean’s intent to slow them down, driving both of them wild. “Make me slow down…”
“Shut up, and listen…” Jean towers over Eren, pressing into his body, trying to immobilise him with the whole of his weight, but laughing, Eren writhes and wriggles, his pubic mound rubbing against Jean’s, their cocks sliding against each other, aching for release. “Shut up…”
Jean descends on Eren’s face, pressing an aggressive kiss on his lips. Eren’s laughter dies in his mouth. But it’s too late to slow down now. Even if Jean fights his release with all his strength, struggling to hold on a little longer, they are both past the point of no return.
He greets his teeth against the pleasure overwhelming him, but the climax forces a yell out of his throat. Beneath him, Eren’s body goes limp with a cry, and the heavy scent makes its way to Jean’s nose as their mixed semen coats their abs and Jean’s palm.
Suddenly, the entire world fills in only with their heavy breathing and wildly beating hearts. There’s no anger, hurt, or guilt. All is love.
“This is good; it’s everything I wanted. All will be fine.” Eren’s voice cut through the white noise of the aircraft. “Remember this moment, Jean, because the next time we see each other—“
Realisation dawns on Jean.
“You suicidal maniac… it’s not over between us.”