That was the first Jean got to be top with Eren. They hooked up a few more times after that, but unless he lost a bet Eren was usually top. Eventually they compromised on a position they both found satisfying: Eren sitting and stroking into him from below, Jean straddling his lap facing him. He was still irked Eren got to do most of the pounding, but at least he had more control over his own legs and hips. When the sex was over Eren would curl up between Jean’s legs and lay his head on his chest to snooze until the curfew bell rang. It was a far cry from their early days when right after ejaculation both of them jumped to their feet, called each other names and got out of each other’s sight as quickly as possible.
One night as they cuddled in post-orgasmic rapture, Jean brushed the dark strands away from his face saying, “Look, Eren, you’ve been acting strange lately. What the hell’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Eren mumbled sleepily. “Just bloody sick of sleeping in that dank basement.”
Poor thing, Jean thought. After all these years, despite the fact that Eren learned to have complete control over his titan people still feared the idea of him shifting at night by mistake and killing them all. He tried to argue his case with the head of personnel but was told off coldy, “You either sleep underground so everyone else can have a good night’s sleep, or you sleep above ground and keep the entire island from sleeping.”
“I can switch with you once or twice a week,” Jean offered. “We’re about the same size. I’ll wear that ugly wig and no one’s gonna notice. You can sleep on my bed. I’ll find a way to get rid of my roommate.” Jean stayed at the officers’ barracks but because only those ranked captain or higher had their own rooms he had to share his with a fellow officer.
“Nah, they’ll find out and you’ll be demoted. My life’s miserable enough. Don’t wanna makes yours a misery as well.”
“We’ll come up with something,” Jean said, touched that Eren would care about his position and reputation.
Eren raised a hand skyward, waxing dramatically, “I just want a window where in the morning the sunshine can pour in, and the breeze blows through…”
“I’ll argue with the head of personnel until she comes to her senses.”
“Nevermind, not worth the trouble,” Eren replied, grabbing a fistful of Jean’s hair.
“Ouch! The fuck, Eren?”
“Right now I’ll just pretend your hair’s sunshine and your breath the breeze. Romantic, eh?” Eren was trying to rile him.
“Yuck!” Jean gave him a look. “Don’t be icky.”
“I won’t if you’ll just let me sleep.”
“Smartass, you’re evading the question. Tell me what the fuck’s going on. You’re not yourself lately…”
Eren snuggled deeper into his arms. “Everything’s fine, Kirschtein. You worry too bloody much,” was the muffled reply.
“You must tell me at some point. Hiding things from…” He was unable to continue because Eren reached out to entwine both arms around his neck and pull his face down for a kiss. Jean kissed him back, fully aware that Eren was trying to distract him with long, deep, delicious kisses he knew broke down a person’s resolve, made them weak in the knees, made them forget whatever question was on their mind. Somehow Jean managed to tear his lips away. “Hiding things from the people who believe in you and have fought alongside you will only damage both parties in the end,” he continued.
Eren lowered his arms and rested the back of his on Jean’s bent knee, looking up at him with wide, innocent-seeming eyes and not saying a word. Jean gazed down at his face, took in the emerald greens, the longish dark hair, the smooth olive skin. Why did you have to be so bloody beautiful?
The titan shifter held his gaze for a few moments before parting his own lips slowly, seductively, a lustful look on his face. Jean groaned in defeat, bending his head down to seal the erotic half-parted lips with a kiss. The kiss went on and on. I could kiss this bastard all night. It was Eren’s moans of pleasure that made Jean snap back to reality and break the liplock.
“You’re trying to distract me,” he pointed out in an accusing tone.
Still saying nothing Eren raised his head to plant soft, warm kisses on Jean’s neck, tracing the collarbone with his lips, using the tip of his tongue to lick the tiny valley below the voice box.
“Eren, for fuck’s sake, you can’t just kiss me forever…”
“I can if I wanna,” was the defiant reply.
Jean captured his face between his hands, looked into his eyes. “Dammit, Eren, talk to me,” he entreated.
“There’s absolutely nothing to discuss, save for the fact you’re getting hotter every day. Bet the entire brigade wants to bang you now, Jean Kirschtein,” Eren grinned, reaching out to tousle the ash blond hair.
“You can’t deflect every time!”
“Oh yeah?” was the totally unconvinced reply. Using the tip of his finger Eren traced Jean’s brows, moving to the the profile of his nose, then to the lips and jaws. “How does it feel,” the brunet asked in a teasing tone, “to be the military’s newest sex symbol?”
Jean sighed. It was no use. Eren refused to talk. Tightening his arms around him, he rested his cheek on the titan shifter’s forehead. “Listen, you piece of shit. You better not be planning anything stupid.” I love you and I don’t want you to go away and do dumb things and hurt yourself, or worse, get yourself killed, was what Jean really wanted to confess. But for all his bluntness he couldn’t say the words. Something held him back, something he couldn’t put a finger on, something that told him loving Eren and telling him outright would hurt them both so much they might as well be dead. So instead he said, “We care about you, Eren. We’re all in this together. I wish you’d trust us and tell us what’s going on.”
“I told you, skipper, nothing’s going on.”
Jean sighed again. “Alright then, go to sleep.” He held him and stroked his hair until he heard the soft snoring. He was quite tired himself, and the thought that crossed his mind as he closed his eyes and rested his chin atop the dark head was: I love you, Eren. I love you and wish you’d stay put. I love you and don’t want you to die just yet.
Soon Jean would find out that after all’s been said and done, Eren trusted no one. Not him, not Levi or Hange, not even Armin the best friend or Mikasa the loyal companion since childhood.
Whatever trust or intimacy he thought had developed between himself and Eren was but mere illusion on his part. In the end, was I was simply Eren’s fuck buddy and nothing more? The realization broke his heart because, to his own shame and mortification, completely against his public stance toward the titan shifter, and totally against his better judgement, he had fallen in love with Eren Jaeger. And he’d felt loved by him in return. But was he merely projecting his own feelings onto the enigmatic Eren?
The disconcerting feeling he had that something was terribly wrong with his beloved was substantiated a few weeks later when the Survey Corps went to Marley as spies and the wild boar went AWOL. And then the Battle of Liberio happened and all hell broke loose.
That’s it for this story. Thank you so much for reading! Please please please take a moment to say hi in the comment section below. It’s so lonely and discouraging to find out I haven’t got any readers. Your comments are the only way I know my stories are getting read. Even just one sentence from you will give me the encouragement I need to keep on writing. Feel free to use a pseudonym and dummy email address. Please say something—anything at all—just to let me know you’ve finished reading. Comments do mean the world to me—THANK YOU. xoxo, hana
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