Archive of Our Own

Eren found him huddled by the half-burned wreck of a house, ashes from the charred timbers streaking his face and settling like dark snowflakes on his shoulders. The smoke obscured the strange boy’s scent at first, but as Eren drew closer, he smelled enough to know that he was an omega, and that he had an alpha, although the alpha’s scent was almost overwhelmed by the sour stink of grief. There was something else though—sweeter, but a little acidic too. Oh—that was the smell of a baby. Sure enough, now he could see the boy’s stomach was round and heavy. After humanity had been almost wiped out by the Titans, more and more male omegas had begun developing the ability to conceive and a once rare trait was now common.

The boy didn’t look up as Eren approached, just stared at the wreckage, his face blank, his arms limp at his sides.

“Hey,” Eren said, sheathing his swords. “Are you all right?”

No response.

He crouched down next to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a little shake. “Hey—snap out of it. We need to move. We cleared the Titans out of this district, but there’s always a chance we missed one.”

Nothing.

“You can’t stay here.” Eren pulled on his arm, but it was like hauling on a sack of potatoes, a dead weight, completely unresponsive.

Eren moved so he was in his line of sight. The boy had a narrow face, and it was too thin and drawn, proof that whoever he was, he wasn’t wealthy. Provisions had been rationed in this city for months, only the nobility able to buy more to supplement what the government doled out. His hair, lighter on top and darker where it had been clipped short against his neck, was a mess, full of ash and dirt and maybe some dried blood. Eren felt along his skull for a wound, but didn’t find anything. The boy didn’t react, his mind withdrawn, in shock from the horrible things he had witnessed. He looked to be about the same age as Eren.

“Where’s your alpha?” Eren asked, hands clasping the boy’s shoulders. “What’s your name?”

Still nothing.

Fuck. Eren looked around, but no one else was in sight. They really couldn’t stay here. The boy was around his own height, maybe even a little taller, or else he would have tried carrying him.

In all likelihood, his alpha had been killed. There was no way an alpha would abandon their omega, not to mention a baby.

It didn’t justify what Eren was about to do, but he couldn’t think of any other way to get the boy to come with him.

At first it felt wrong, straddling the omega’s thighs and leaning down to scent him. But instinct gradually took over, and soon he was fisting his hand in the boy’s hair, tilting his neck to the side, and licking and sucking his skin. When he nipped very lightly, the boy sucked in a breath and started shaking in Eren’s arms. He twisted his hands in Eren’s shirt.

Eren pulled back a little and was relieved to see that the boy’s eyes followed him now, fixed on his face.

“That’s it.” Eren gently disengaged the boy’s fingers from his shirt and got up, holding out his hand. “Can you come with me now?”

A moment’s hesitation, and then the boy took his hand. Eren helped him up and led him down the street, the boy trailing after him, occasionally looking back over his shoulder at the wreckage of the house.

*

Despite repeated questioning, the boy wouldn’t say anything. Eren kept him close by that night, making sure he had a blanket and coaxing him into eating a little. He cleaned the blood and dirt out of the boy’s hair, and the boy’s eyes tracked his movements, anxious, reaching out now and then to grab Eren’s shirt.

Eren nuzzled him, letting the boy bury his face in his neck.

“He smells like you, Eren,” Mikasa said, watching the proceedings, and Eren flushed defensively.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get him to come with me,” he explained. “I haven’t really claimed him.”

He wasn’t ready for a mate, let alone a child. And yet when they lay down, he allowed the boy to share his blankets, petting his hair until at last some of the exhausted terror faded out of his eyes, and they drooped closed, and the boy fell asleep.

*

A hard punch to his shoulder rudely awakened Eren the next morning.

“You fucking bastard! You—you left him. You took me away—”

Eren got his hand up just in time to block the boy’s fist before it connected with his nose. “What the hell—” He scrambled away, dodging the blows, wincing when a foot connected with his ribs.

“Stop!” Armin grabbed for the boy’s arms, and then Mikasa was there. Together they restrained him, and the boy sunk to his knees, panting.

“You took me away from him,” he said again, glaring pure hate at Eren, his voice raw. “I can smell you on me. You made me leave him. You left him there to die!”

“That’s not how it happened.” Eren took a deep breath, collecting his wits, still befuddled with sleep. “You were all alone when I found you, and the only way I could get you to safety was by getting through to your instincts. That’s why I had to scent you.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” he spat, struggling against Mikasa and Armin.

“He’s not lying,” Armin said. “What do you remember about yesterday? Do you remember what happened to your alpha?”

The boy’s face twisted, and he struggled harder for a moment before stilling and bowing his head. There was a long pause. Armin and Mikasa released his arms. Eren limped a little closer, cautious.

“Marco,” the boy said at last, his voice thin with pain. “He…he…”

Tears spilled from his eyes, and he looked at Eren, as though begging him to make the agony come to an end.

“Hey—hey, come on. It’ll be all right.” Eren put a very cautious hand on the boy’s shoulder, half expecting to get bitten, but the boy only kept staring at him as he cried. “What’s your name?”

“Jean.” He put his arms around his stomach. “Oh god—M-Marco. I…I can’t…”

“I’m sorry,” Eren whispered, trying to blot away some of Jean’s tears with his sleeve. “You have to calm down, though. You’ll make yourself sick, crying so much.”

Harder sobs wracked Jean’s body.

“You need to eat,” Mikasa said. “Your baby needs nourishment.”

“And soon we’ll be heading out, going to Shiganshina,” Armin added. “It’s going to be okay, Jean.”

*

Jean choked down a little food at last, and then rode in a cart, silent and numb, for the rest of the day. Eren came back to check on him now and then, and Jean always lifted his head when he smelled him, even though he wouldn’t respond to Eren’s queries about how he was doing. But that night he shuffled over to where Eren was rubbing down his horse and stood there, a few feet away, looking lost.

“Did you get something to eat yet?” Eren asked.

Jean shook his head. He was twisting his hands in the fabric of the jacket they had given him, worrying at the threads.

“Let’s go get some food, all right?” Eren said gently, and Jean followed him silently.

He remained quiet at dinner, and afterwards he huddled into a blanket, staring at the fire, looking angry and miserable.

Eren fiddled with his bedroll, unsettled, unhappy that Jean was unhappy. “If you want, we can sleep together, tonight,” he finally said. “Just sleep, I mean. It might help.”

Jean scowled. “I’m not a child. I was a soldier, you know—or, well, I was in training to be one and then Marco mated me. We didn’t think I’d get pregnant right away, but…”

“Armin and I cuddle all the time after a tough mission. It doesn’t have to mean anything more.”

“You’re not Marco.” Jean’s voice shook, and he took a deep breath, blinking hard. “I want him, not you.”

Eren didn’t have any reply to this because nothing he could say would make the situation better.

After a time, though, Jean crept closer, and Eren lifted his blanket, letting Jean inside. Jean was stiff and tense at first, but slowly relaxed, curling a tentative hand in Eren’s shirt. Eren put an arm around him, and then laid a hand on Jean’s stomach.

“How much longer?” Eren asked, Jean’s skin warm through the thin fabric of his tunic.

Jean’s breath hitched. “Maybe two months.”

“Had you picked out names yet?”

“Halfrid if it’s a girl. Ferdie if it’s a boy.”

“Those are lovely names.”

A faint flutter against his hand, and Eren gasped, startled.

Jean touched his stomach, smiling, but then his smile faded. “I haven’t started producing any milk yet. I’m worried I won’t, because of not getting enough to eat for so long.” He swallowed, pushing closer, nudging against Eren’s neck. “How am I supposed to take care of the baby by myself? I d-don’t know anything about babies.” Hot tears splashed on Eren’s skin.

“Hey, don’t cry, don’t cry.” Eren rubbed Jean’s back, nuzzling Jean’s temple.

Jean fell asleep soon after. He was still asleep, curled into a tight ball, when Eren woke up the next morning.

“Wake up, Jean,” Eren said, stroking his cheek.

Jean made a protesting noise.

“We have to leave soon. It’s still a long way to Shiganshina, and the open country is dangerous.”

At that, Jean’s eyes opened. He lay still for a moment and then struggled to sit. Eren helped him, half-lifting Jean to his feet. Eren rolled up their blankets, slinging them over his shoulder. But when he started to move away, Jean grabbed him.

“What is it?” He searched Jean’s pale face and wide eyes. “We’ll eat breakfast on the road. Don’t worry, I’ll bring you some bread.”

“Stay, please,” Jean mumbled, fingers like claws digging into Eren’s arm.

“Jean—I need to go get my horse. Let go.”

Jean shook his head. When Eren tried to pry his fingers off, Jean clung harder.

Eren sighed. “All right, then. But don’t get mad at me again for this, okay?” He moved closer, a little wary, but when he started rubbing against Jean, nipping at his neck, covering him with his scent, Jean didn’t protest. His breathing became easier, and he let go of his death grip on Eren.

Eren knew it was the fear of being left alone again. Especially with the baby, Jean wanted and needed an alpha nearby. With Marco gone, he was reeling from the grief, seeking something to fill the emptiness.

But he was finding it more and more difficult to not begin thinking of Jean as his.

*

Every morning, Jean needed to be scented, and every night he came to Eren, huddling close under the blankets. After that one, brief little smile when they were talking about the baby, Eren couldn’t draw another out of him. In fact, Jean seemed to be getting more anxious the closer they got to Shiganshina.

On the evening before their last day of travel, Jean didn’t initially show up at Eren’s campfire. Worried, Eren was just about to go look for him when Jean appeared, lugging a bucket of water. Eren settled back down, relieved.

“What happens when we get to Shiganshina?” Jean asked abruptly, putting down the bucket but remaing standing.

Eren blinked. “Well, the church usually helps with resettling refugees. They’d probably let you stay until your baby is born.”

For a moment, a devastated expression filled Jean’s eyes. Then he turned half-away, hunching his shoulders. “I see.”

Eren fought down the instinct that made him want to claim Jean as his, right then and there. Surely Jean couldn’t want that. He still thought of himself as Marco’s. He wasn’t ready for a new alpha.

Jean didn’t say anything more, but later, when they were under their blankets, he whispered, almost inaudibly, “Why don’t you want us? You scented me, and you’ve been looking after me, but you’re going to leave me in Shiganshina.”

Eren froze. “I thought you didn’t want to stay with me,” he said carefully.

Jean shuddered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Taking a deep breath, Eren tilted his head, pulling Jean closer. Doing this would mean he was making a claim on Jean, that he was declaring himself willing to take Jean as a mate. “Here, then. You can scent me too, if you want.”

A choked sob and then Jean was rubbing against him, almost frantic, blending their scents together. His own almost overwhelmed Eren—fear, desperation, sorrow, gratitude, and a little thread of want and attraction, faint, but there.

“You can stay with me, if you like.” He got a hold of Jean’s shoulders, stilling him. “But Jean, I’m already starting to think like your alpha. If you’re with me—I won’t be able to stop myself from claiming you eventually. And when you go into heat again…”

“I know. That’s—that’s all right,” Jean said, although he didn’t sound certain of that, and the smell of grief spiked, sharp and sour. “But…will you let me keep my baby? Marco’s baby, I mean.”

“Of course! I would never—never—make you give it up. It’ll be mine too, yes?”

Jean gave a tight nod, silent tears tracking down his face.

And so Eren ended up with an omega, and a child, where he had never expected to have either.

*

Eren’s parents were both gone, his mother lost to the Titans, his father to an epidemic a year later. So in Shiganshina, he took a set of furnished rooms above a baker’s, the smell of bread sweet in the morning. That first night, bringing Jean there, he had to scent him thoroughly, watch carefully as Jean ate supper, help with Jean’s bath, and then bundle him into the bed, bringing another blanket in case Jean was cold.

Jean endured this with increasing irritation. “All right, Eren,” he finally snapped, pushing the blanket away. “I get it. You’re being a good alpha.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Eren retorted, defensive. “I can’t help it. Especially smelling the baby all the time.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Well I’m not tired. What is there to do?”

This put Eren momentarily at a loss, as he usually stayed in the military barracks, kept busy with drills and cleaning equipment. But when he’d announced his intention to mate Jean, Erwin had given him permission to live outside the barracks with his new family.

They ended up playing a game of hearts with a pack of cards Eren happened to have in his satchel.

“Tomorrow we can go get you some other clothes,” Eren said. “And—I don’t know—I guess we should start getting things for the baby. Like a cradle and—what else will you need?”

Jean shrugged, growing listless.

“And we should go see a doctor,” Eren decided, eyeing Jean worriedly.

*

The next morning, he woke up slowly. A delicious scent filled the air, and his cock was heavy between his legs. He rutted forward, still half asleep. Someone gasped, and then there was a wet, sensation on his cock. Groaning, he moved faster.

“Eren—Eren!”

Jean’s voice snapped him awake. He was spooning Jean, both of their shirts rucked up above their hips. He was shoving his cock in between Jean’s thighs, which were slick with the fluid dripping out of Jean. Jean’s own cock, much smaller than Eren’s, was hard too, but Jean was gripping his arm, knuckles white.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m sorry,” Eren said hoarsely, tearing himself away and sliding over the mattress, putting some distance between them.

“It’s okay.” Jean’s voice shook, and he had his eyes squeezed shut. “I know it’s instinct. I—I feel it too. But I can’t yet. I—I can’t.”

His cock hurt, with how hard it was. Jean smelled so ready, and there was the lingering smell of Marco that Eren needed to erase—needed to replace with his own—needed to claim Jean properly. He shut his eyes too, trying to get a hold of himself.

It was an awkward morning, after that.

While shopping, he and Jean bickered over everything from what color cloth to get to the appropriate size for a cradle.

“My mother says,” Jean began and then stopped, turning pale.

“Jean?” Eren said, but Jean turned and fled the shop.

Eren caught up to him in a narrow alley to the east. Jean was kneeling in the dirt and throwing up his breakfast.

“Jean, are you all right?” He knelt beside him, putting a hand on his back. “What is it? Are you sick?”

“My mother—she—she was so looking forward to the baby. Why? Why?” A sob broke in his chest, and then he was crying, hot tears shaking his thin frame.

“Oh, God, Jean, was she in Trost, too?” Eren put his arms around him. “I’m sorry. Why didn’t you say?”

Jean broke free, crawling a few feet away. “What does it matter? Telling you won’t change the fact that she’s dead, that my father’s dead, that Marco—”

He kept crying, hard enough to make himself retch again.

Eren tried to hold him, but Jean kept fighting him off. Finally Eren was able to pin his arms and keep him still, getting Jean to calm down.

“Let’s clean you up a little, okay?” Eren led him to a nearby water pump, wetting his handkerchief and giving it to Jean so he could wipe his face. Jean swished some water in his mouth, spitting it out, and then sagged wearily against the wall.

Eren took his arm, tugging gently until Jean started walking, and headed for the nearest doctor.

*

After examining Jean, the doctor sat down with both of them. “You’re too thin,” the doctor told Jean. “Make sure you eat plenty—meat, if you can get it, and fresh greens and fruit. After a week or two, you should start producing milk. But the bigger problem is the severed bond with your previous alpha and the unfinished one with Eren.”

“I didn’t mean to keep scenting him,” Eren said, “but it seemed to help.”

“Yes, I’m sure it did, to a point. But you need to finish the job, to put it bluntly. Delaying the mating can be dangerous enough in a healthy omega, let alone one in Jean’s condition. If he’s properly mated again, he’ll be more emotionally stable, which will help with recovering his weight and getting plenty of rest. It will be better for the baby too. They’re very sensitive to emotional distress at this stage. You’ll want to be in the best shape possible before the birth, Jean, seeing as it’s your first. That can often be a difficult one.”

Jean stared down at his bare feet. “It hurts when Eren stops and doesn’t mark me. But I still can’t help wanting Marco. It feels wrong to take another mate so soon.”

“Are you responding sexually to each other?” the doctor asked.

“Yes,” Eren replied with a blush, remembering that morning.

“Then you should be able to complete the bond. I advise you to do it or risk severe consequences.” The doctor put a hand on Jean’s arm. “I’m sure your previous alpha would have wanted you to do what’s best for you and your baby.”

“Yes,” Jean said, his voice thick. “Marco would have.”

*

The doctor made Jean eat some meat broth and drink a cup of milk laced with honey. Jean looked better by the time they left, and he shook off Eren’s supporting hand.

“I want to do it tonight,” Jean said, his voice determined.

“Jean…” Eren hesitated, reluctant.

“We have to do it, so let’s do it.”

“We don’t have to,” Eren said, even though everything in him cried out against the idea. “I’m sure there’s some way to—”

“No,” Jean interrupted, and then he flushed. “I…I want to do it. With you.”

Eren stared at him, shocked. Jean’s flush deepened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re kind and gentle. You’re a soldier, not one of those cowards who won’t go out and fight the Titans. And you’re…well, you’re not bad looking, okay? I like your eyes, and I like it when you hold me.”

“Oh.” Eren felt suddenly shy, not sure where to look or what to do.

"I should be giving you a way out," Jean said in a low voice. "You haven’t had much choice in any of this. I know you scented me to save my life, and it’s only pity that’s—”

“It’s not just that!” Eren kicked at a small stone, hunching his shoulders. “I…I want you too. I never thought about taking a mate, but now that it’s happening, now that you’re here…”

Jean huffed and put an arm around him. “This will be your first time, right?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I mean, I know what to do.”

“Well that’s something at least,” Jean teased, and Eren looked at him, surprised again because this was a side of Jean he’d never seen.

Jean watched him a moment and then leaned closer, resting his head against Eren’s. “Take me home,” he whispered.

Jean had called their little place ‘home.’ It warmed something in Eren to hear this. “Can I ask how you and Marco met?” he asked as they walked.

A few moments of silence, but just when Eren thought Jean wouldn’t answer, he started speaking. “At a military training camp. Like I said, we both planned to join. Marco was patient and sweet and thoughtful. I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but he was never put off by me. He was the first real friend I’d had.” Jean smiled again—the second one Eren had seen—this one wistful and sad.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too much.”

“No. It’s good to talk about him. I don’t want to ever forget. We mated after graduating and that’s when I got pregnant. Marco—” Jean stopped, swallowing. “He was trying to scrape together the money for a place for us, but in the meantime I was staying with my parents. Marco was there for a visit on the day that…the day it happened. He always tried to see me every chance he could.” Jean put a hand on his stomach. “I wonder if the baby will look anything like him. He had freckles, and brown eyes, and darker hair than I do.”

“I’ll try to be here when the baby comes,” Eren said. “But I can’t control when I get called on a mission.”

“I know. And don’t promise you’ll come back or any shit like that.” Jean stared moodily into the distance, the lighter atmosphere fading again.

*

Eren managed to find some beef to have for dinner that night, and Jean prepared it. He was a surprisingly good cook, but when Eren said this, he grew sad again, and so Eren let it drop.

Eren gave most of the beef to Jean, but at first, Jean only picked at his food.

“You need to eat—remember what the doctor said,” Eren reminded him, watching anxiously.

Jean obediently ate a bite, then went back to shoving food around his plate. “Are you really going to mate me?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his fork.

A mix of nervousness, arousal, and possessiveness swept through Eren at the question. “You said we should do it tonight, right?”

A nod. Jean licked his lips. “Will you…come closer? I can’t smell you very well from here.”

Eren pushed back his chair and went to stand behind Jean. He touched Jean’s neck. “Right here,” he said. “That’s where I’ll mark you.”

He could feel Jean’s pulse, pattering in a rapid beat.

“You’ll smell like me by tomorrow,” he whispered.

Jean shivered, his fingers tightening on the handle of his fork.

Eren stayed next to him while he finished eating. The neck of Jean’s shirt was open, and from this angle he could see the sharp line of Jean’s collarbone. He moved his hand so it was resting on the back of Jean’s neck, and he rubbed his thumb up and down, up and down. Jean started to smell calmer and soon there was a growing odor of arousal too.

His own body started responding. He could tell when Jean smelled it because he dropped his fork onto the plate with a clatter and then stumbled to his feet.

“Let me go get ready,” Jean said, his voice shaking. “I’ll call when I want you.”

It was hard to let Jean go, to wait patiently in the hallway. He couldn’t help rubbing himself through his trousers, knowing that he wouldn’t have to hold himself back this time.

At last, Jean called his name, and Eren fumbled the door open. When Jean’s scent hit him, it practically made him light-headed, it was so strong. Jean was under the blanket and still in his shirt from what Eren could tell. He was flushed, as though he had a fever, his hair damp at his temples.

Eren toed off his boots and stripped off his shirt, then approached Jean slowly. Now that the moment had come, Jean seemed reluctant again, unable to meet Eren’s eyes.

“You smell so good, Jean. Will you let me in the bed?”

A nod.

Eren carefully peeled back the blanket and got hit with another wave of scent. “Fuck,” he said weakly, knees folding under him as he sank onto the mattress. He could see now that Jean had stripped off his pants and undergarments. His shirt covered him to the thighs, just barely hiding his groin, the curve of his ass peeking out.

It was too much. Eren struggled with his own pants, finally shoving them off so he was naked. Jean watched him, eyes drawn to his cock.

“I’m getting a little swollen, just smelling you,” Eren said, palming the small bulge where his knot would form.

“Oh—I—” Jean bit his lip, stopping whatever words wanted to flood out.

“Will you…will you let me touch you?” Eren whispered, inching closer.

“Yes,” Jean said, although he didn’t move, staying curled up on his side.

Eren put a hand on his hip and then slipped it down in between Jean’s legs. He swirled his fingers in the sticky mess sliding down Jean’s thigh. “You’re so wet. Is it always like this?”

“Sometimes more than others.” Jean looked embarrassed, and Eren didn’t want that, so he moved closer and started nuzzling Jean’s neck, mingling their scents, licking daintily at the skin where he would put his mark.

“Schatz,” he whispered, and Jean froze.

“Is it all right to call you that?” Eren asked.

“Y-yes.” Jean’s voice broke. “Marco…Marco didn’t use that word.”

“Then I will, schatz.” His treasure, found in the ashes of Trost.

Jean started relaxing at the attention, and soon he was clinging to Eren, parting his legs to slide one over Eren’s hip. Eren reached down and cupped his bottom, hitching Jean closer, and their cocks rubbed together.

“Oh, fuck, I—I have to—”

“Do it,” Jean moaned, digging his fingers into Eren’s back.

“How should I—I mean, what position should I—”

“Get behind me,” Jean said, and Eren scrambled around, cock bobbing.

“Like this?” he asked, his fingers trembling from eagerness as he felt around for Jean’s entrance, finding it sopping wet and loose.

“Hold my leg up and—and stick it in. Do it, Eren, please, please.” Jean was panting for breath, sounding desperate.

“One second, just—just hold on a second, Jean.” He got his cock into position, then started pressing forward.

It was bliss, sliding into Jean. In only a few thrusts his knot started forming, and he pushed it farther into Jean, spreading him open, loving the gasping whimpers Jean made. He didn’t have the leverage to move too quickly or pull out too far, settling for short, jerky movements that ground their hips together. It seemed with every thrust Jean got wetter, slick trickling down over Eren’s balls.

He came far too fast, stuttering mid-thrust and then slamming all the way inside, knot lodging and holding fast. He’d have a lot of seed to give Jean, given that this was the mating that would bond them together.

“Next time you go in heat,” he murmured in Jean’s ear, riding the slow pulse of his orgasm. “I’ll be putting my baby in you.”

“Eren,” Jean gasped.

Eren caressed his round stomach. “It’ll be so good, Jean, I promise. You’ll be so wet for it, and I’ll fill you up—keep filling you up until you conceive again. You’ll probably still be suckling this one, so your milk will stay in. I’ll make sure you get lots to eat—you and our babies both.”

He reached up and squeezed one of Jean’s breasts, imagining how they would grow plumper, then flicked the sensitive nipple with his fingers.

Jean shuddered, his own little penis squirting a mess of come onto the sheets.

“There we go, schatzi. Bet you feel better now, huh?” Eren murmured, hitching Jean’s hips a little further back, cock twitching and releasing another spurt of seed into Jean.

Jean was going boneless, muscles shaking, and Eren cradled him, letting Jean rest in his arms. His knot wouldn’t go down for a while, and there were still other things to be done. “Show me your neck,” Eren said.

He’d been a little afraid Jean would resist, the memory of Marco still too strong to allow him to accept another alpha’s mark. But Jean tilted his head and only moaned when Eren fit his teeth there, biting hard enough to bruise the delicate skin.

Jean came dry at the sensation, his whole body tensing up in a rigid bow. Eren licked at the mark, humping into Jean as he did, almost mindless with pleasure.

Both of them dozed a little while Eren was still knotted inside. When he was finally able to pull out, he eased Jean onto his back, spread his thighs, then sat back on his knees while he traced Jean’s puffy hole with his finger, crooking it inside, some of his come dripping out as he did.

“Eren.” Jean started trying to sit up, and so Eren helped him, then found himself pinned as Jean straddled his lap and bent down to suck and bite his own mark onto Eren’s neck.

It made his cock go stiff, and he had to put it in Jean again, who moaned, sweet and helpless. He placed his hands on Jean’s hips and then helped him to move up and down, riding his cock slowly. He couldn’t knot this time, but he spilled more of his seed, thinking again of how he’d impregnate Jean soon and get to smell his own child inside him.

Jean’s eyes were heavy, and he let Eren arrange him on the pillows. His cock was hard, though, and when Eren laid between his legs and took Jean’s cock in his mouth, Jean made those helpless noises again, twisting his fingers in Eren’s hair.

He liked the size of Jean’s cock, how it fit so nicely in his mouth, easy to suck. It wasn’t long before Jean released a thin stream of come, not as thick or copious as Eren’s.

“You’re mine now,” Eren whispered as he settled them both under the blankets.

“And you’re mine,” Jean returned, drowsy

“That’s right.” Eren nuzzled him, and dared to kiss his cheek. To his delight, it made Jean smile faintly.

*

When Eren opened his eyes the next morning, he found Jean already awake and watching him.

“Hey,” Jean said quietly.

Memories of the night before returned, including some of the things he had said to Jean. They made him blush now, and he turned his face into the pillow.

“What is it?” Jean put a hand on his arm. “Don’t tell me you’re going to act shy now.”

“Last night I was…I said…”

“You couldn’t help it. Marco would get like that too. When we…well, when we made the baby, he was almost a different person, the instincts were so strong.”

“Oh. I didn’t know. I’d never been with anyone.”

“You don’t…regret it, do you?”

Eren sat up, eyes wide. “Of course, not!” He swallowed. “Do you?”

Jean shook his head and then held out a tentative hand. Eren grasped it and cuddled closer, letting Jean scent him.

“Do you feel better now that we’re mated?” he asked.

“I think so. I don’t feel as frantic as I did before.”

“Good.” Eren petted Jean’s hair. “You hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll go see what they have in the bakery downstairs. Stay here, schatzi.”

It turned out Jean was very fond of raisin buns. Over the next few weeks, Eren learned a lot more about Jean. That he got cranky when he was tired, for example. That he got along with Armin but couldn’t seem to string three words together in Mikasa’s presence. That he was surprisingly soft-hearted at times and hated to see the refugees crowding the streets. Jean railed against the crown’s policies which favored protecting the lands of the nobility over retaking territory from the Titans.

Jean accepted affectionate touches from him—even sought them out—and would let Eren kiss his cheek or forehead. But since the night they mated, he hadn’t made any mention of sex again, and kept to his own side of the bed.

Eren knew part of it was the pregnancy. Jean was getting increasingly uncomfortable as the birth approached, his body heavy and awkward. But he also knew Jean was still grieving for Marco.

He tried not to let it bother him. Instinct and circumstance had brought them together. Instinct had been satisfied—for a time—and he couldn’t expect an immediate love and desire to grow in its place.

*

Commander Erwin announced another mission for the Survey Corps as the summer drew to its end. It would last at least a week, perhaps more depending on how far they managed to advance. Eren returned to their rooms to tell Jean, worried over his reaction. The baby could come any day, and he knew Jean was scared, even though he tried to hide it.

He found Jean asleep in the rocking chair in a patch of sunlight by the window. Jean had gained weight and started producing milk, but anxious lines often creased his forehead. His back had been hurting him, and he hadn’t been sleeping well. Stepping as softly as could, Eren came to his side, reaching out to brush his fingers across Jean’s cheek.

Jean stirred and opened his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to wake you,” Eren said.

“What time is it?” Jean asked, yawning.

“A little past four.” He hesitated, then said, “The Survey Corps will be leaving on a mission in two days.”

Jean’s hands tightened on the arms of the chair. “I see. You’ll be gone awhile, then.”

“Yes. I don’t know how long.”

A nod.

Eren licked his lips, wishing Jean was in his arms where he could nuzzle and kiss him, taking comfort from his scent and presence. “Mistress Heide downstairs has promised to go for the doctor if your time comes and I’m still away.”

Jean shifted, annoyed. “I know, Eren.”

“You can hire someone to help you too. I’m not sure you should be here by yourself.”

“I know what I can and can’t do better than you. It’s not like you’ve ever had babies either.” Jean struggled up, ignoring the hand Eren held out.

Eren trailed after him into the kitchen. “I’m sure the Commander would let me stay behind this time, if I asked. I don’t like to leave you.”

“The only thing I need from you is a promise to kill as many fucking Titans as you can,” Jean said, rounding on him, a hot fire in his eyes. “I can’t avenge Marco, but you can. You can kill those things that took him from me. That took my mother and father.”

Eren swallowed and nodded. “I will.”

Jean gripped his shoulders, his scent flaring with grief and fury. “Promise.”

“I promise.” He reached up and tried to loosen Jean’s fingers.

Jean let go and turned away. “Eat supper if you want. I’m not hungry tonight.”

He went into the bedroom, leaving Eren alone in the other room.

But later, when Eren came to bed, Jean rolled over and held his arms out. Eren burrowed into them, Jean’s scent surrounding him.

“Come back to me, Eren,” Jean whispered.

“I will.”

“You have to.” His voice trembled, and he combed his fingers roughly through Eren’s hair.

Eren let Jean paw at him, let him bite and suck at his neck, renewing his mark. When Jean had quieted a little, he rubbed a hand over Jean’s stomach.

“You don’t give Jean any trouble now, when you come into the world,” he said.

Jean’s laugh was half a sob.

“You’ll be all right,” Eren whispered. “And I’ll be back soon.”

*

Three fucking weeks. That was how long Erwin kept them in the field, until the frosts came and the last leaves fell from the trees.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Eren,” Armin said every night, as Eren hunched in a tense ball by their campfire, staring back in the direction of Shiganshina.

Mikasa put her hand on his shoulder, a silent comfort and strength.

When they finally returned, he tore through the streets and hurtled up the stairs to their rooms, flinging open the door.

He caught the scents first—Jean—safe, alive—and a new presence, sweet, sleepy, and soft. His eyes landed on Jean, who had been sitting in a chair but had started up, alarmed, when Eren burst into the room. Jean’s arms cradled a blanket-wrapped bundle.

“Jean!” Two steps took him across the floor, and then he was brought up short by a loud wail.

“You’ve done it now,” Jean said. “I’d only gotten him to sleep.”

“Him?”

Jean drew aside the blanket, giving Eren a glimpse of a scrunched face, a few wisps of dark hair, and a tiny fist. “This is Ferdie,” Jean said over the baby’s cries. “He arrived ten days ago.”

“Ferdie.” Eren put out a hesitant hand, brushing the baby’s cheek. “Hush now, bärchen. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jean snorted. “He’s not a little bear. Any more than I’m a treasure.”

“I know that you like it, schatzi,” Eren teased and leaned over to kiss Jean’s cheek. For a second, he thought he’d gone too far, but then he saw Jean was struggling not to smile, so he kissed his cheek again, then leaned down to give Ferdie a quick kiss too.

Ferdie stopped crying for a moment, surprised, and Eren had a brief glimpse of dark brown eyes before the crying started up again.

Jean rocked Ferdie, taking him into the other room to lay him in his cradle. Eren followed, waiting silently until Ferdie finally got quiet and then fell asleep. Jean tucked the blanket around him and came over to shove Eren back into the kitchen, shutting the bedroom door behind them.

"You're back, then," Jean said, not looking at him.

That was right—Jean had wanted him to kill Titans. Eren opened his mouth to say he’d had two kills and four assists, but suddenly Jean wound his arms tightly around him, pulling Eren’s head down to his shoulder, and pressing a fervent kiss into his hair.

Eren swallowed and put his arms around Jean, shutting his eyes and breathing in his scent.

They ended up on the braided rug next to the little woodstove, Eren curled against Jean’s chest while Jean smoothed a hand through his hair.

“How was it?” Eren asked. “When Ferdie was born, I mean?”

“Hard,” Jean said quietly. “The doctor came, and it took hours. I thought…I thought I was going to die at one point, but the doctor said after that I wasn’t in any danger. And then, when they put Ferdie in my arms, and he—oh, God, Eren, he has Marco’s eyes, and I…”

Eren felt for his hand and held it while Jean swallowed back his tears.

“You’re all right now, though? And Ferdie…?”

“Yes—yes, we’re both fine. He’s healthy, even though he’s small, and he’s eating a lot. Mistress Heide has sent one of her daughters up a few times to help with doing some washing and cleaning. But I’m glad you’re back. I’m so tired, and—and it’s been lonely. We haven’t lived here long enough, and your scent kept getting fainter and fainter.”

Eren tilted his head in response to the unstated need, and they spent awhile scenting each other again, nuzzling and rubbing and nipping. Then Ferdie woke up, and Jean settled into the chair to feed him while Eren knelt next to them, letting Ferdie wrap a hand around his finger and watching as he sucked.

Armin and Mikasa came over later that evening to coo over the baby. Armin related one of the fights on the mission when Eren had killed a Titan, and Eren flushed at the proud look that Jean gave him.

“Will you be going on another mission soon?” Jean asked later, when Eren’s friends had left, and they were lying in bed together.

“Depends on how much snow we get, but probably not until spring. It’s too difficult to move long distances with the wagons and horses in the winter.”

“Good,” Jean said. “I want you here with me.”

“I’m here, schatz,” Eren whispered. He touched his lips to Jean’s—briefly, lightly—but before he could draw away, Jean pulled him in for a deeper kiss.

*

Those months, when winter settled over Shiganshina, brought back memories of when Eren had been very small, before the evacuations, before his mother had been lost and then his father.

Their rooms were poorly furnished, and they had to stuff rags into the cracks by the windowsills, but they kept it cozy enough, with a fire in the little woodstove and blankets piled on their bed. Jean made him wear three pairs of knitted socks because his feet were always cold and sometimes in the evening he would rub them for Eren until they tingled. Every other day, Mikasa and Armin tromped through the snow for a visit, arriving with red noses and snow-dusted coats.

Once a week they went through the laborious process of heating enough water to give Ferdie a bath. Then he and Jean stood shivering by the stove, dipping cloths in the steaming water, and scrubbing each other down. Often this led to Jean bending over the table while Eren rutted between his thighs, the evidence of their pleasure quickly washed off when they finished.

One nice day, when the sun shone and the wind was quiet, Armin watched Ferdie while Eren took Jean to the outskirts of town with a borrowed set of vertical maneuvering gear. They played around, hurtling through the air, and Eren learned that Jean was good—really good. Then they had a snowball fight, and Jean laughed for the first time since Eren had known him and smiled, wide and bright, his head tipping back in abandoned joy.

Eren liked laying on the floor with Ferdie resting on his stomach. He would lift Ferdie up in the air and bounce him until he smiled, then pretend to nibble off his toes.

And every morning he went down to the bakery below them to get Jean a raisin bun, warm from the oven.

Then spring came, and the snow melted, and the Survey Corps sharpened their swords.

*

Eren sat at the table, cleaning his gear, keeping one eye on Ferdie, who was crawling around on the rug. The Corps was setting out the next day, prepared to strike deep into the heart of Titan territory. Jean was slicing potatoes for a stew.

“Jean…” he began and then paused.

“What?” Jean asked.

He chewed on his lip, digging his rag into an awkward corner. “What if you go into heat while I’m gone?” he finally blurted. “The doctor said it might happen soon.”

The snick of the knife paused a moment and then resumed. “It’s called a dildo, Eren,” Jean said.

Eren fretted a few more moments and then stood up and went over to Jean, putting his arms around his waist. “I don’t like it. I should be here. I want…”

“What do you want?” Jean’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.

“I want to give you another baby,” Eren mumbled. Just thinking about it was making his cock fill. He rubbed up against Jean’s ass.

“Ferdie’s getting too close to the stove,” Jean said, ducking away and going to pick up Ferdie, leaving Eren frustrated and bereft.

That night, though, Jean straddled him in bed, working Eren's cock with his hands until it was hard. He could smell Jean’s slick, but when he tried to roll Jean over, Jean held him down.

“Like this tonight,” Jean said, positioning Eren’s cock and sinking down on it, biting his lip at the stretch.

“Fuck, Jean,” Eren breathed, open-mouthed. He held onto Jean’s hips while Jean rode him, watching his cock slide in and out with each flex of Jean’s thighs.

“You’ll be here when I go into heat,” Jean told him. “I’ll need you so badly, Eren, shit—you’ve no idea how empty it makes me feel, like I’ll cry if I don’t get fucked. These—” He reached down and weighed Eren’s balls in his palm. “These had better be full of your seed. You’re gonna have to keep knotting me—every time I ask for it. You think you can do that?”

He nodded, mouth dry. “I promise, schatz.”

Jean sighed, pleased, resting for a moment but still squeezing his internal muscles around Eren’s cock. Eren whimpered.

“I milked Marco dry, our first heat together,” Jean continued. He rubbed one of Eren’s nipples with a considering finger. “Bet I’ll do that to you too.”

“Shit—please—”

Jean resumed moving with a very smug grin on his face, but Eren let it go. If Jean kept saying things like that, he didn’t care how much he had to beg.

“Love how you let me get my fill of your cock,” Jean murmured. “Staying hard for me like this. Feels so good.”

“Jean.”

“You can come now, though. I want to feel it, so I know what it’ll be like when you mount me in my heat.”

Eren came so hard he slammed his head back against the wall.

*

In the morning, Jean and Ferdie went with him to the Survey Corps headquarters, joining the other families and friends there to see them off.

“Eren’s going to kill Titans, but he’ll come back to us soon,” Jean said to Ferdie and then leaned into Eren, nosing and scenting him, even though it brought a blush to Jean’s cheeks to be doing it in front of so many others.

Eren nuzzled back, pushing down Jean’s collar so he could fit his teeth gently against the mark he had put there last night. Finally a kiss, and a kiss for Ferdie too.

“Be good for Jean, bärchen,” he told Ferdie. “I’ll be back soon.”

It turned out to be a lot longer than that, though. A week out from Shiganshina they came across a fifteen meter Titan in the ruins of an old city, and in the ensuing fight, Eren got thrown against a crumbling wall. Half the wall hit the ground along with him, and his left arm got pinned under some of the rubble. When Mikasa dug him out, he was a mess of scrapes and bruises, some cracked ribs, an aching head, and two broken fingers. They sent him to a hospital in the nearest frontier town to recuperate, and it wasn’t until two weeks later that he was cleared to return to Shiganshina.

When he got home, still moving a little slowly, his fingers still splinted, he stopped in the bakery for some raisin buns and then struggled up the stairs to their rooms.

The door opened before he reached it, and there was Jean, his knuckles white against the frame. “Eren,” he whispered and then wavered and sank onto his knees.

“It’s all right, schatz,” Eren said, hurrying to him. “I’m safe. I’m back. I promised you I’d come back, didn’t I?”

Jean nosed at him, breathing in his scent in desperate gulps. “When the others returned without you, I thought…I thought…And then Armin came to tell me what had happened, but I still—I needed to see you. I needed you here.”

Jean was gripping his arms hard enough to hurt, but Eren didn’t try to move.

“After Marco…I can’t, Eren. Not again.”

Eren made soft, soothing sounds, tipping his head down to find Jean’s mouth for a gentle kiss. Jean wasn’t crying, but he was shivering all over.

“Let’s go in and have something hot to drink,” he suggested. “I want to see how big Ferdie has grown.”

Jean clung to him a few moments longer and then nodded, getting to his feet and helping Eren to stand.

Ferdie was crawling around now, tufts of dark hair sticking up on his head. Eren’s ribs still ached too much to bounce him in the air, but he tickled his feet and stomach, laughing at Ferdie’s delighted shrieks. Jean watched, his face still solemn, heating some water for tea on the stove. Later, Jean helped Eren take a bath, careful of the yellowing bruises scattered over his chest and sides.

“I don’t care about revenge,” Jean whispered in the dark as they lay in bed that night. “Not anymore. Marco would want you to be here, for Ferdie and…and for me. And I only want you to be safe. I—I love you.”

Hearing Jean say it— He swallowed hard, blinking back the sharp sting of tears. “I love you too, Jean. But…the world isn’t just us.”

“I know.” Jean’s voice was harsh. “Dammit, I know. And I don’t want Ferdie—or…or our children to grow up in a world like this. Still…still…”

In the morning, Jean was better, more like his old self, grumbling at Eren and fussing over getting Ferdie to wear some socks before they took a walk outside, the shadows retreating from his eyes for a little while at least.

*

It was two weeks later that Eren woke up to Jean shaking him. “What is it?” he mumbled. Jean’s skin felt hot, and he dimly realized they were both sweating, Jean’s body heating up the air under the blankets.

“Eren—Eren, you have to take Ferdie to Armin’s,” Jean said. His voice sounded strange.

“Huh, why?” Eren mumbled.
“My heat’s starting.”

That brought him fully awake, and he sat up, scenting the air. A mistake as it turned out because when Jean’s scent hit him, his mind went a little hazy, his mouth dry. “F-fuck,” he stuttered, reaching out to touch. Jean’s thighs were sticky with the amount of slick seeping out of him.

Jean slapped his hand away. "Eren, focus, dammit."

“Right…right.” Keeping his breaths shallow, he stumbled out of the bed and over to Ferdie’s trundle bed. Jean disappeared back under the covers.

He was still under them when Eren returned from Armin’s, but his scent filled the air. Dimly, Eren was aware of stripping off his clothes again, but it was distant, mechanical, his only thoughts of Jean. He went over to the bed, drawing back the blanket over the Jean-shaped lump.

And Jean—Jean bit him.

“Ow! What the fuck?” Eren exclaimed, stumbling back, clutching his hand.

A growling mutter from the bed and another wave of heady scent. Shit—his balls were going to burst if he didn’t get to mount Jean now. He yanked the blankets down, and this time when Jean came at him, he tackled him onto the mattress.

They wrestled around, Jean trying to flip him over, Eren struggling to get a hold of Jean’s wrists. And then suddenly, Jean went limp. He stared up at Eren, panting. Eren opened his mouth, but Jean reached up and tugged him down into a fierce kiss. Eren made a surprised noise, muffled by Jean’s tongue.

And then Jean was rolling over, spreading his legs, and saying, “Come on, Eren. Hurry the fuck up, would you?”

Jean was so…so impossible sometimes. But oh—oh fuck this felt good, watching his cock slide so easily inside him, feeling how wet Jean was, knowing that he needed Eren’s knot, that he was going to get to have Jean like he’d wanted him for months and months.

The first time he lasted barely two minutes before he was coming, knot swelling to lock them together, and Jean would probably give him hell about how short a time he had lasted, except he was coming too, clenching around Eren’s cock.

As soon as his knot went down a little, he went back at it, fucking Jean good this time. Jean was making this continuous low groan, stopping only to gulp breaths of air. Eren moaned too, mouthing at his neck. And when he knotted again, he put his hands over Jean’s stomach, picturing the seed he was putting there with each twitch of his cock.

It wasn’t until evening that some semblance of rationality started to return. He was sore and exhausted but happy too. Jean was curled next to him, soft and pliant, drowsing a little. He didn’t even make a noise when Eren gently put him on his stomach, just sighed and rubbed his face against the pillow. Eren spread Jean’s thighs, getting a good look at his entrance. Not damaged, but very swollen and red, loose from having Eren’s knot jammed in it all day. Eren rubbed his thumb there, pleased at this evidence that he’d serviced Jean adequately.

Reluctantly leaving Jean, he went to heat some water and returned with a cloth and steaming bowl. Jean let Eren wash him, and he ate all the raisin buns and cheese that Eren brought him too.

They slept a few hours, and then another wave hit Jean. Eren fucked him while Jean straddled his lap this time, so Jean’s little cock could rub against his abdomen and they could kiss. When they tied, Jean slumped into him, gasping whenever Eren’s knot throbbed.

The next day was less intense, and Jean slept a lot, waking to burrow sleepily into Eren’s arms while Eren lifted one of Jean’s thighs and pushed into him, rocking them in a slow rhythm. By the evening, though, Jean was more alert, pawing at him until Eren roused too and mounted him again. They both worked up a sweat, and when Eren’s knot went down, Jean rolled closer, tucking his chin against Eren’s shoulder.

Eren lapped at his skin, salty with sweat. He sniffed, liking the contentment rolling off Jean. There was something else, though—he sniffed again. “You smell different,” he said, perturbed.

Jean huffed. “Of course I do.”

Eren raised his head, confused.

“I’m going to have another baby, you idiot.”

His cock twitched, hips jolting reflexively. “You can tell?”

“Yes.” Jean took his hand, putting it on his stomach.

Eren swallowed hard, reaching down to palm his cock.

“Oh? You getting hard again?”

“Jean,” he whined, pushing his cock against Jean’s hip.

“Good boy,” Jean whispered, sticking out his thigh and letting Eren hump it. “You going to show me how you did it? How you put your baby in me?”

Eren nodded, moaning wetly and biting Jean’s neck.

“That’s it. Such a good boy,” Jean said, breathless, letting Eren in between his legs again.

It took him a few tries to get back into Jean, he was so eager for it. When he did, he hammered in and out, fast and shallow.

“Fill me up again, Eren. One more time,” Jean said.

“I can’t,” Eren whimpered. His balls ached because Jean had been so insatiable, and now Jean wanted more and—

“Yes you can. I want to feel it again—making me all warm and full.”

He sobbed when he came, wrung dry. He couldn’t even knot, and he slipped out of Jean and collapsed next to him. Jean gathered him up, kissing his forehead and brushing back his sweaty hair.

"I'm tired," Eren mumbled.

“Mmm, I know you are.”

“Are you…going to want to go again?”

Jean chuckled. “Maybe in the morning, a little. But since you got me pregnant, I won’t stay in heat.”

He felt a little relieved about that to be honest. Two days overcome with pleasure and the instinctual urge to mate was wonderful but exhausting.

“I think it’ll be a girl,” Jean said, rubbing a thoughtful hand over his stomach.

*

A cold, snowy day in late winter proved Jean right. They named the baby Melia. She had Eren’s eyes, but Jean was certain she would have his nose, even though it was only a tiny snub on her red face as yet. Ferdie stood by the bed, holding onto the mattress with his fists, eyes wide as Jean showed him his new sister.

Eren caught Ferdie up in his arms, hugging him close as he sat down next to Jean. Melia was asleep at the moment, tired out after her first feeding, and Jean tucked her against his chest, wrapping a blanket around her. Tomorrow, Armin and Mikasa would come visit. It was cramped in their small kitchen with all five—no, six—of them, but Eren couldn’t imagine anything better than having all of his family close by and warm and safe.

They couldn’t forget the outside world of course, with all of its dangers, but they could shut it away for a few hours in this little home that he had made with Jean.