Jean "it's good soup" Kirstein (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
neighsaying) wrote2023-11-14 12:35 pm
neighsaying) wrote2023-11-14 12:35 pm
crime and punishment (@dreamsofwings)
At the rate this is going, Jean almost thinks he's going to have to start cutting Eren's feet off before they ride out on missions.
Ever since they came back from Liberio - specifically, that party with the refugees - Eren has been different. If Jean is honest with himself, he was different before, but it's like the change has hit an exponential runaway point now. Armin's plans (and his) usually account for some amount of flexibility when they involve Eren. He's always been impulsive and hotheaded, and up to a point he'll try to work with them before he can't anymore.
Lately?
Lately it's like Eren's not even attempting to play along with the mission guidelines. He spends longer in his Titan, too - it's not as easy to wait his ass out when he can spend an extended period of time in there. Jean never thought he'd be hating Hange's endurance training for its results.
This time it was a Marleyan scout ship. They were supposed to capture those, give people a chance to defect, and instead everyone inside is dead. Crushed, by Eren's collapsing the ship like a child's accordion, or drowned when he threw it back out into the fucking ocean.
Everyone is tense. Jean's pretty sure he's about to see white hairs start showing up in Levi's hair. Eren is silent at dinner, despite the talking down from their Commander and Captain in turn. Eren isn't technically a part of any squad, but organizationally he's under Jean's, with Sasha and Connie. So when they're finished (Jean's not even sure Eren ate?) he clicks his tongue at Eren as he gets up.
"Jaeger. My tent."
Eren doesn't move. Just in case he thinks this isn't the flimsiest little setup it actually is, he grabs the hair at the back of Eren's head, fisting it in his hand and ignoring Sasha's mildly alarmed look as he tugs his head back, forces Eren to look up at him.
"Eren. Now."
Ever since they came back from Liberio - specifically, that party with the refugees - Eren has been different. If Jean is honest with himself, he was different before, but it's like the change has hit an exponential runaway point now. Armin's plans (and his) usually account for some amount of flexibility when they involve Eren. He's always been impulsive and hotheaded, and up to a point he'll try to work with them before he can't anymore.
Lately?
Lately it's like Eren's not even attempting to play along with the mission guidelines. He spends longer in his Titan, too - it's not as easy to wait his ass out when he can spend an extended period of time in there. Jean never thought he'd be hating Hange's endurance training for its results.
This time it was a Marleyan scout ship. They were supposed to capture those, give people a chance to defect, and instead everyone inside is dead. Crushed, by Eren's collapsing the ship like a child's accordion, or drowned when he threw it back out into the fucking ocean.
Everyone is tense. Jean's pretty sure he's about to see white hairs start showing up in Levi's hair. Eren is silent at dinner, despite the talking down from their Commander and Captain in turn. Eren isn't technically a part of any squad, but organizationally he's under Jean's, with Sasha and Connie. So when they're finished (Jean's not even sure Eren ate?) he clicks his tongue at Eren as he gets up.
"Jaeger. My tent."
Eren doesn't move. Just in case he thinks this isn't the flimsiest little setup it actually is, he grabs the hair at the back of Eren's head, fisting it in his hand and ignoring Sasha's mildly alarmed look as he tugs his head back, forces Eren to look up at him.
"Eren. Now."
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But he gets caught in that, the gruesomeness of it. There still isn't another solution. That trip to Liberio…seeing those kids, knowing what happens to them…not to mention hearing people literally debating whether Eldians count as people…it's too much. He can't stay here with his friends. If he does nothing, these people, Jean and the others who he loves too much, will die.
The other option is everyone else dying. Even if it's objectively better for the islanders to go extinct, he can't abide by that. He has to leave, find Zeke, get the answers he doesn't have yet. The Rumbling. The end of the world. Eren, the monster who will destroy everything, just like people have accused him of being before, just like Marley fears he is.
He's not quite ready to live up to that, but he's right on the edge of it. He still doesn't quite know when, but it has to be —
Jean's hand tight in his hair slams him back into the preset. His blank expression morphs into a frown, unfocused eyes honing in on Jean above him. He knows this arrangement, but does that make him less of a pain about it? Of course not. Somewhere underneath his lies and confusion and horror, he's still Eren.
He thinks about arguing. It's there on his tongue for a moment, some scathing remark that will start a fight (or…not…) right here in front of everyone. But something on Jean's face quells that urge. Eren doesn't really want to fight with Jean. That's just familiar, the part of him that is always fifteen ready to just be an asshole because he can't deal with emotions.
The part of him that is this age also can't deal with emotions, but you know.
"Fine, let me go," he says. Easier to walk if he gets up on his own. Less embarrassing, too, both for him and for Connie staring into his cup and pretending not to see them.
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Technically a squad leader's tent should be in the middle of the camp; no sense in letting their smartest hang out on the edges. But it'd only taken one visit before everyone decided it was better to let him (and Eren) stay on the fringes of camp.
He steps in, pushing the flap aside, and gives a steadying breath. It's anger and worry and hot desire roiling in his stomach right now. He doesn't have to be gentle. With anyone else, he'd have to be careful about their limits.
He's not sure Eren has limits. He's pretty sure he's fucked Eren's mouth with a broken jaw before. There's the tiniest splinter of guilt - what if he's getting worse because of Jean? Because of the way they come together, harsh and violent, Jean with bleeding, rough bite marks over his body when he gets Eren to forget himself, healing in silvering patches of skin and adding to his scar collection vividly.
But he remembers Eren was the first, to draw his own blood, to push himself hard against Jean, and he ignores the tendril of guilt for the frission of anticipation, instead.
The tent is simple, as is the bed, economical. The façade of Jean and his tiny luxuries is gone here, it's just a soldier's tent, plain and unadorned. Jean pulls off the top half of his gear and his shirt before he turns around to look at Eren again.
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He doesn't tell anyone much of anything these days. But this doesn't require talking. (Eventually he'll talk, or scream, or whatever. It just takes longer than it probably should due to the layers of weird bullshit that are going on in Eren's head now.)
Eren doesn't give a shit about surroundings. He probably wouldn't care if they were right there in public if it wouldn't embarrass his friends so much. Eren is hard to embarrass these days. When you're going to do the worst thing imaginable, what does literally anything else matter? Humiliation or debasement or just bleeding all over the floor, it's all fair game now just for the chance to remember what it feels like to be a person, and not someone out of time and reason, someone with too many people's memories in his head.
It's the fast track to just being Eren, for better or for worse.
At the end of the day, even if he doesn't or can't say it, he trusts Jean. He's trusted him for a long time, even when they bristled against each other, back when Reiner had to stand between them like the wall he broke down.
Fast track, of course, is a relative term.
Eren moves into the tent and half-watches Jean pull some of his gear off. He doesn't yet move to do the same, not with any sense of urgency. He moves at his own pace just like he always does.
His eyes move up Jean's body to his face, still more or less present here in this moment.
"Something you wanted, squad leader?" he says, bratty because that's easy and familiar.
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Eren, broken, bruised, bleeding, that's for him. He's helped Eren heal from machine gun wounds when the scout ships get a chance to fire on him, and he vividly remembers pressing a thumb into steaming, healing flesh just to make Eren squirm. Maybe they're both equally fucked up, because Jean's pretty sure the reason he hasn't bothered flirting with anyone recently is he can't conceptualize of sex without putting his hands on someone and breaking parts of them.
That's getting ahead of himself, though. Eren's still unmarred in front of him, drawling the title out. Jean reaches up to take his jaw in his hand, fingertips digging in. It's almost romantic for them.
Then he kicks out, sharp and cruel with his boots on, heel aiming for Eren's knees to knock him into a kneeling position. Jean still holds onto his jaw and squeezes to get him to open his mouth, hopefully.
"Had your fun out there earlier?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous as he presses a thumb to either Eren's lips (if he's not opening his mouth) or the inside of his cheek.
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He always wonders if he couldn't heal, would he still feel like this? He kind of thinks he would. His masochistic streak isn't related to his healing factor. It just means he doesn't have to stop.
It's never dulled the pain of injury. He can heal, but he can also feel. As things got worse in his head, that was the thing that he really sought out, the bright points of pain that made him unable to be anywhere else. Pleasure can do the same, he's aware. He likes that too, but...pain is something different.
Eren hasn't reached his full height, but he'll never be as tall as Jean. He hopes he will, but for now he still has to look up to look Jean in the face before he ever ends up on his knees. Jean's hand grips his face and he does look up, gaze catching on Jean's mouth before making its way up to his eyes.
If he saw it coming he might resist because he's Eren and he can't just do things. He's always got to push against everything he can, even when it's ostensibly something he wants. But with Jean especially, the lingering friction they had when they were a little younger drags this bullshit defiance out of him.
He doesn't see it coming, and Jean's kick knocks his legs out from under him. He falls almost clumsily like a fawn, wobbly and unsure. It makes the way he hits one knee jarring and he winces but clenches his jaw against sound.
There's still that hard resistance from his clenched jaw at first when Jean pushes him.
"Maybe," he answers, lips parting then for Jean's thumb against them. It's as much bullshit as anything. He doesn't enjoy murdering human beings. There are some he doesn't regret or doesn't care about (the ones today, he doesn't particularly care), but he's not so far gone that he likes doing it. He doesn't even really like killing titans anymore, though now there are almost none left on the island, and Marley got wise enough that they haven't damned anyone else to that fate in awhile. Better to use them as canon fodder in their war than leave them on the island these days.
Still Eren somewhere at heart, he almost bites down. Well, he does bite down a little, the hint of a threat, teeth scraping the digit in his mouth. He doesn't really mean it. He bites when he thinks less; that's how he leaves marks. This is just goading because he can.
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He doesn't know the true reasons for why things like this happen, or remotely have an inkling of Eren losing sense of where he is. Maybe if he knew, he could try to help. Instead, he sees someone acting out, though they both know this 'punishment' isn't going to truly teach him anything. He knows, deep in his chest, that Eren didn't kill those people for fun. He's not like some high ranking officials he could name (but won't, because nothing is a boner killer faster than Zackly). That's what makes it all the more frustrating.
His thumb slips between Eren's lips, then feels teeth scrape against the digit. He likes Eren in this position, especially when his eyes are trained up on him. His own eyes narrow a bit more, lips twisted slightly in a frustrated expression. He hits the side of his boot against Eren's thighs, making him spread his legs open a little more - then slides his foot between said legs. The hard leather tip of his boot is nestled just behind where he knows Eren's balls are.
He doesn't particularly care if he's hard yet, but he doesn't expect him to be, either. He shifts his thumb to press down on Eren's tongue, trapping it against the bottom of his mouth. At the same time, his other hand goes to that longer hair, grabbing it and tugging his head back a little.
Then he leans over, pulls his thumb out, and spits into Eren's mouth, because he's just a little weird and psychotic that way. He's quick to press two of his fingers back in after he's done it, pushing deep into Eren's mouth.
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He knows he should. He should care more about these people's lives, but…well, being sorry for what is to come for the refugee kids is one thing. Being sorry for killing Marleyans after all they've done and will do if left unchallenged? Whatever. He's not exactly compassionate here.
Still, orders are orders and other people care about loss of life like that. Armin. Sasha. Levi.
Jean.
He relaxes his bite a little. Jean's boot comes up against his balls just after his legs part further and he starts a little. There's nowhere much to go with Jean's hand in his mouth, but even the press of boot under him, the start of discomfort, doesn't make him want to go anywhere at all. He's not hard yet but this is still doing it for him; he turns on easily enough. He's tense, warring with himself not to move his hips against Jean's boot and give him the satisfaction. This is a losing battle, but in true Eren fashion, he fights it anyway.
Eren makes a sound in his throat, just a soft one, when Jean pulls his head back again. It's not like out at the campfire. It's better.
His mouth is still open; there's not really time to react enough to close it. Would he anyway? He's not even sure.
He says what the fuck around Jean's fingers, but it's garbled nonsense. All he can do is glare up at Jean — an expression he can't hold onto, he's not really angry anyway — and swallow, awkwardly. He reaches up with one hand and grabs Jean's wrist with it, but that's all.
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"Sorry, what was that? Didn't catch it."
He punctuates that by starting to draw his fingers back, then pushing them back in without giving Eren a chance to talk. Like he's fucking Eren open with his fingers, though his mouth hardly needs the treatment.
His thumb isn't in his mouth, so he uses it to swipe over Eren's bottom lip, just because he likes the look of doing so.
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His hand eventually lets go of Jean's wrist, though then he's not sure what to do with it, so it rests on his knee. He clenches and unclenches it, a subconscious restless motion. He readjusts his legs just slightly, which only really serves to press his balls harder against Jean's boot. He makes that sound again, something that will border on needy in a few more minutes.
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"Arms up," he tells Eren, voice firm. He waits out any sluggishness or resistance until he does so, and then reaches down, tugging off Eren's shirt with one hand. With the other, he grabs hold of one of Eren's hands, threading their fingers together and holding it up.
It'd be romantic, if not for the fact the boot's still pressing against him. Jean works open his pants with the other hand, slick with Eren's spit, pulling his cock out with a sigh. He's only half hard, stroking himself once, but he knows how to change that. He taps Eren's forehead with two wet fingers until he tilts his head back.
"Mouth open. Watch your teeth," he warns, as he takes his cock in hand and presses it to Eren's lips.
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He doesn't make any sound when Jean slaps him, but his eyes are half-lidded when he looks back.
He thinks of goading, something like, is that all you got? It's a near thing, there on his parted lips. But Jean gives him an order that he decides to obey and that taunt dies out.
There's the barest hint of a smirk on his face when he tilts his head back, his fingers tight in Jean's. This is their kind of romance, isn't it? Eren was once a romantic at heart, long before he imagined getting off to pain, long before he needed physical sensation to remember where and when he was. But any real romance is long buried, forgotten. This will have to do.
He tries not to be desperate, hungry for it, not this fast. He's never been good at slowing down, though, and even now he's not all that hard to read. He finally stops pretending he's going to put up a fight and opens his mouth.
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Sweet stuff, though, that's not how they are. It'll always be violence to hide worry. (He doesn't think he's imagining it that Eren looks most alive and like himself when he's bleeding and panting).
He feeds Eren his cock, still half-hard, but he knows he'll thicken and fill out in his mouth. He's always hot, wet, and Jean would be lying if he said he didn't think about this pretty often. He rocks his hips a little bit as he grabs Eren's other raised hand, mirroring the hold so he's holding up both of Eren's arms.
He tugs, just a little, to watch bone and muscle flex, heat and the movement of his hips getting him fully hard in Eren's mouth.
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All he can do is move forward, like Reiner said.
All he can do is let Jean cover up a worry he can't voice with this, the truth of their bodies combatting Eren's lies. They aren't all calculated. Sometimes it's just I'm fine when anyone with half a brain knows he isn't.
Eren opens his moth wider to accommodate. He does watch his teeth; he has no limits on pain, just on causing it. Anyway, Jean would get pissed at him if he scraped too hard or bit down. Jean is already pissed at him. He can find other ways to push back.
It's awkward not having his hands free. The angle of his arms like this is also awkward. He can't find any leverage. Between Jean's boot under him and Jean using his mouth like this, his own dick is hard and straining against his pants. There's some lingering discomfort there that's impossible to ignore. That's the point, right?
He doesn't even notice himself moaning a little around Jean's cock, spit still leaking down his chin.
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"Show me how you want it," he tells Eren - demands that he fuck his mouth on Jean's cock. Making him an active participant in his own debauchment is always fun. If Eren wants to fight him on it, there's plenty of delicious ways to punish him for it.
But for now, Jean tries to encourage it by tilting his foot up a little, pressing Eren's balls closer to his body.
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He's not there yet.
It's nonsense, really, because he does want it. There's no part of this he doesn't want, and more besides. He would never be on his knees like this otherwise, a fact they're both aware of.
Why he has to make it difficult, even he can't say.
Jean's cock doesn't quite hit the back of his throat, but Jean holds there. Eren's hips can't help but move a little against Jean's boot, but the rest of him...
His eyebrows knit together. His hands reflexively tighten too. With the little leverage he has, he shoves, pulling his mouth back. (Stupid; he'll just fall if Jean lets him go, a fact he realises too late.)
He manages to get his mouth empty enough to talk.
"You're the one that wanted me here."
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He moves his boot away from under Eren, shifts his body back a little bit so his cock is away from Eren's face. He looks down, still considering, still holding Eren's arms up. Then he jerks his knee up, smashing it hard into Eren's nose. There's not any room for Eren to sway away since Jean's got him by the hands.
He doesn't know if he just busts a vessel or breaks Eren's nose. Either way, it starts bleeding. He doesn't tuck his boot back under Eren - now, he presses his foot over his cock.
"Let me rephrase, then," he says dryly. "Fuck your mouth on my cock."
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Jean's knee hits his face and that sound is all pain. He's not sure if his nose is actually broken, but it doesn't matter. Blood gushes down his face. He can taste it, familiar in his mouth. The world might go sideways if Jean wasn't still holding him.
Here. Now. Pain.
He glares up at Jean, open-mouthed, blood streaming down his face. He can heal that any time he wants. He's purposefully letting it go, ruining his clothes, bleeding onto the top of Jean's boot because he's close enough.
His hands are still tight in Jean's and he wars with himself about how and whether to fight back.
Jean's boot on his dick isn't a deterrent. He'll fight if he decides do and pay for it if that's how it goes.
He's not worried about pain but he worries a little about denial. After all this, he's rock hard, desire and the haze of pain and blood working over his need to be as big of a pain in the ass as possible.
"...okay," he says, which doesn't mean much. Eren's agreement isn't worth shit; he can change his mind at any second without warning.
For now, he opens his mouth again, wider, still bloody, obscene. He'll participate but he wants Jean to put his cock back in his mouth first. Who is complicit in what here? Eren's still bleeding on purpose just to be disgusting.
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Thank god the leather of their boots is easy to clean, although Jean slightly regrets not getting out of his pants first now. Whatever, he'll deal with it later.
Instead, with Eren's mouth open like a wound, Jean shifts closer with his other foot and presses his cock back inside, over his tongue. He doesn't push all the way in before he pulls out, just a little. Just to see the mixture of spit and blood on his dick before he sighs in contentment and rocks forward again. He presses until he's almost fully sheathed in Eren's mouth, just teasing the back of his throat.
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How Eren will explain away bloodstains later doesn't matter to him. He bleeds on shit all the time; it's a side-effect of being a titan shifter. It's also just a side-effect of being Eren.
Eren's eyes close most of the way when Jean pushes his dick back into his mouth. The taste of blood and Jean's skin together is better than blood alone. He doesn't bother dwelling on what that says about him. He doesn't have a real desire to taste Jean's blood, though he's bitten him hard enough to bleed in the past. That's just extra damage.
His own blood, the reminder of pain and life, is a lot sexier somehow. It's not a wound he caused, no self-injury leaving marks in his hands. That's part of the allure here for him. Hurting himself is commonplace. Other people hurting him is too by now, but he chooses this. He chooses this thing with Jean over and over and will keep doing it until he has to leave without looking back.
Maybe it will make whatever comes later easier. Maybe it will make it harder. But if they live like all they have is now, then...
He remembers Jean's order and his agreement to do it.
Jean's cock slides back out of his mouth a little then back in. Eren sucks lightly, then moves his head back, not enough so Jean's cock falls out of his mouth again. Then he pushes forward again until Jean's cock hits the back of his throat before he repeats it. He's not lazy about it, exactly. But he's not in a hurry yet. He uses his tongue to tease along the underside as his mouth drags backwards, repeating the motion. There's not as much he can do without a hand there to hold the other boy steady in his mouth. This will have to do.
"it's also just a side effect of eren"
Instead, he hisses under his breath, letting his hips rock forward when Eren bobs his head down, helping him go just a bit further into his mouth.
"Fuck, you look good like that." That being covered in blood and a little bit of spit, running his tongue on the underside of Jean's cock as he sucks at it. He lets go of one hand, shifting Eren's hands together so he can grasp both wrists in one of his own. It means he's not pulled back quite so far, but whatever.
With his now-free hand, he presses his thumb against the bridge of Eren's nose. Then he swipes down, through some of the blood on his upper lip, and drags it across Eren's cheek, a tacky smudge. He presses his thumb against skin, until he can feel the drag of his cock in Eren's mouth through the flesh.
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You look good like that, Jean says, and it goes straight to Eren's dick. He can't really acknowledge his own praise kink, but it burns in him anyway. He likes to know he's doing a good job. He fucks up so many things all the time, will always do that, from now until the end of the world. Even if the only thing he doesn't fuck up is sucking dick with his mouth full of blood, fine. If he's pretty like this and Jean looks at him like that, fine.
He winces just slightly at Jean's hand on his face, the injured nose that he hasn't healed yet. He can feel blood smear across his face but it doesn't faze him. The press of Jean's thumb against his cheek makes his eyes flutter closed again. He moans softly, unaware of it. His hands clench and unclench in Jean's. He wants to touch and Jean won't let him and he can't decide if he's pissed off about it or turned on more by it.
He bobs his head again, a little faster, cheeks hollowing when he has most of Jean's cock in his mouth. He opens his mouth a little further when he moves back because titan healing powers or not, he has to breathe like a normal human being. He does the same thing again, more or less. Fuck your mouth on my cock, wasn't it?
MY TOOTH STOPPED HURTING
Maybe later. He can handle this for now, because he doesn't want it to be over this fast. He can see the way Eren enjoys being told he's doing a good job, a dichotomy that Jean loves to exploit whenever he gets the chance to in these situations.
Eren's going in earnest, now, and Jean groans out a "Good boy." He rocks his hips forward when Eren bobs his head down, bullying against the back of his throat - trying to make Eren choke or see if he accepts it smoothly now. He slips his hand up to gather Eren's hair in his fist, not tugging but keeping it out of his face. It gives him a better view of his cock pressed between those stupidly pretty lips, too.
I'M GLAD
Good boy, Jean tells him, and his own cock throbs in his pants. He's so aware of Jean's boot against him but he doesn't press against it; he's got too much else going on at the moment and this isn't as easy to move against as having that boot under him.
Jean pushes against the back of his mouth and he does choke, not because he can't take it but because he's still under some stupid delusion that he's controlling the motion here. Technically, sure, but he can't go anywhere and has very little leverage. His movement falters too hard and he chokes instead of swallows. He jerks his head back to gasp for breath, though he has no intention of totally stopping.
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What's that saying, doomed to lose? That's what Jean's set Eren up for right now, a smirk still tugging across his lips. His cock is wet with saliva and blood, resting against Eren's lips as he gasps for breath.
He doesn't push his hips forward again but he doesn't do much to help Eren recover, a little, instead just tugging on those arms a bit, curious to see if Eren will tolerate the stretch or rise with it.
The hand holding his hair strokes a thumb tacky with blood still over the curve of Eren's ear.
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He glares up at Jean, actual anger touching his eyes. It's Jean's fucking fault he choked, isn't it? Jean is pushing him on purpose. Lately, he hasn't always risen to the bait when they're with the others, fully clothed and all of that. But here, more present in himself, he can find a better response than blankness.
He pulls a little against Jean pulling him, but he's not at all successful. Could he actually wrench his hands out of Jean's grip? Possibly, if he really fought. He's in no mood for that, though. All he's doing right now is pushing boundaries and fighting his own bullshit.
After that cursory resistance, though, he grudgingly lets Jean pull him up a little. At least he's caught his breath enough to go back to what he was doing, taking some of Jean's cock into his mouth again. He doesn't push as far forward, cognisant of how he might choke again if he rushes. He's impatient, though, as always, and picks up his pace again.
me: i should do marco tags also me: honse
He's still here to fuck with Eren as his prelude to fucking him, though. Eren bobs his head again, starting out careful and going faster.
"Hold your breath," is all the warning Eren gets for Jean pressing his cock deep into Eren's mouth again. He drops the hair, though, and cruelly pinches Eren's nose shut. It's both painful and serves a purpose; choked on cock and unable to inhale, and Jean still holding all his leverage.
He holds it just long enough - he's pretty sure that Eren will bite rather than pass out like this - and then pulls his cock all the way out of Eren's mouth, letting go of his nose and his arms at the same time.
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He barely processes what Jean says, distracted by his own cock throbbing in his pants and Jean's cock hot in his mouth. He only gets maybe half a breath before Jean's hand is on his nose. It still hurts and he cries out in surprise and pain. Now he really can't breathe. He starts to struggle on instinct. His jaw tightens slightly before he catches it. He tries not to struggle as much, to keep still and conserve his breath, but he's only partially successful.
It feels like a lot longer than it is before Jean lets him go.
It throws him off balance and he starts to pitch forward. He has to catch himself on a hand.
He coughs, once again gasping for lost breath. He tries to find anger and hold onto it, but he's confused by sensation.
Steam rises from his face as his nose heals itself.
"You done playing around?" he asks.
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"Get on the cot. Unless you want me to fuck you across the floor," which has its own appeal, he'll admit. He keeps watching Eren even as he works the straps off the lower half of his body, finally stepping out of those boots and losing the half-inch it gives him (like he needed to be taller, shooting like like a weed as he was).
The only time he stops looking at him and tracking any movement - or lack thereof - is to turn and grab a bottle of oil, unmarked, from his things.
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"You'd like that too much," he answers, but there's not really any bite to it.
He licks blood off his lower lip — pointless, since there's still a lot of it all over his face — and stands up on shaky legs. He has to consider how naked he wants to be. Nudity doesn't bother him in the slightest; they've all been military too long to worry who sees whose dick at this point. There are practical reasons not to take everything off. There's also annoy Jean reasons, and don't be the only one naked reasons.
In the end he settles for leaving his shirt on. He ditches the entire ODM harness, his boots, his pants, and underwear. His shirt is still covered in blood, wet and sticking to his skin. It doesn't really bother him. He's spent a great deal of time covered in blood and worse. What's another half hour, hour, evening?
He sits on the edge of the cot. He could just get on his knees again, but he's not that compliant. That's too easy. At this point, though, nothing can make him seem reluctant. His cock is hard and dripping and his pupils are blown, eyes a little glassy even when he tries his best to glare at Jean when Jean comes back over to him.
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He plants a hand on Eren's chest and pushes him down to the bed, then moves his arms to hook under his legs and push him further up it. He'll leave it up to Eren to decide if he wants to shift to the left so he can actually get his head to a pillow, or just let his head hang off the end, and drops his legs once he has his torso fully on the bed.
He reaches down and strokes a hand over Eren's cock - dry, but he's leaking enough that one stroke gets enough pre in his palm to make the slide easier. He strokes a couple times before he lets go. He pops the cap on the oil to drizzle some over two of his fingers, resealing it and dropping it to the bed.
He kneels on the edge of the bed, pushing Eren's legs open again as his fingers curl behind Eren's balls, stroking over his perineum before he finds his hole and circles it, once, almost kindly before he pushes two fingers in slowly.
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Despite the look on his face, Eren doesn't fight when Jean moves him. He readjusts so his head isn't hanging off the edge so he won't get dizzy. He's trying to stay as present as possible for the time being.
There's a sharp intake of breath through his nose at the first touch of Jean's fingers. He probably wouldn't care too much about prep. Oil matters for ease, but he could have just taken Jean's cock without his hands. Still, he doesn't have much to complain about here. Two fingers at once isn't nice but it's not too much, either, not with how worked up Eren is already. His head falls back on the pillow and his legs open wider without needing to be coaxed or told.
"Jean, fuck," he says, pretence of anger or resistance at least momentarily forgotten.
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His other hand is gripping Eren's hip, holding him down so he can't push back or away from Jean's movements. Which are to spread his fingers just slightly before he pulls them back, almost all the way out before he plunges them back in. He's not fucking Eren fast, he's doing it almost lazily, but he's making sure Eren's taking the full length of his fingers.
After a few languid pumps of his fingers, he curls them, seeking his prostate in an effort to garner another, different reaction from Eren.
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There isn't much tenderness between them. Eren is too far gone for that, though there are moments. There is too much else in the world, violence and horror and trauma. But Eren loves Jean. That's one of the worst truths, that Eren loves Jean and the others enough to burn everything down. He can't bear the thought of losing even one more of them. (Eren tries not to be aware of other losses looming in the future distance; for now he only knows one of them, and he's sure Jean and Connie will hate him for it. He'll live with that because he has to.) Eren's devotion comes with consequences too terrible to give voice to.
But not today. He doesn't have to worry about it for the moment. All he has to do is lay here for a minute. Sure, sure, he'll do more than just lay there. But for a minute or two he doesn't have to.
He clenches his jaw to avoid making sound, but he's never really successful at efforts like this. He's too reactive and too out of his own control, like always. Soft needy sounds escape his mouth despite his efforts.
He doesn't try to pull away. Rather he tries to push into the touch, demanding more, always willing to take. He's never encountered the idea of too much; as far as he's concerned, he doesn't need a limit and he doesn't need to slow down. Leave it to Jean to go slower than Eren wants.
Jean's fingers curl and Eren's hips move as much as Jean lets him, and Jean is successful in finding his prostate. Now he really can't be quiet; his mouth opens, clenched jaw forgotten. He might say Jean's name. He's not really sure. One hand comes up to grasp whatever it can, an arm, some piece of Jean's clothing. He might make some useless demand like more, harder, stop fucking around.
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He knows something is wrong and he knows Eren won't talk to anyone about it. He's seen Mikasa and Armin try, and the way Eren withdraws from the line of questioning. He doesn't believe what he's doing right now will get Eren to tell him. For all Jean is good with words and actions, he's never been able to be good enough to tell Eren the things that he thinks.
Like that he's worried, or that he cares about him. So much that it threatens to split his chest open and put his weak, bleeding heart on display for everyone to see.
Instead, they have this, Eren making needy sounds as Jean fingers him, the gentlest he's been all night. When he finds what he's looking for he doesn't concede to Eren's demands. His fingers keep rubbing against that spot, dragging up and down, making Eren writhe. Eren's hand grabs his arm and he can feel the strength in it.
He still demurs, waiting, until he's decided he's waited long enough. He pulls his fingers out and gives a little slap to one of Eren's thighs, reaching for the oil to pour more in his already-slick hand. He wraps it around his cock, giving a few pumps and a hiss that makes his shoulders jump a little, before he shuffles forward on the bed.
He gets his hands under Eren's knees in order to lift them, pressing them back and exposing Eren's slick hole. Just to be a dick lest Eren thinks he's being sweet, and remind him of earlier, Jean leans over and spits on it before he presses the head of his cock to it, pushing in with a low hiss.
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He wants to find a way to tell Jean something real, something in his heart.
He wants to say something scathing instead.
He wants Jean to rip him to pieces.
He wants to hold on to Jean and never let go.
He settles for this: Jean's fingers inside him and his own demands (currently ignored). He can't stay still, trying to get more and trying to get away from that relentless attention on his prostate all at once. Even if it borders on too much, it's never enough. This is how he's always been.
He starts just a little when Jean slaps his leg, out of surprise and not pain. He watches Jean slick his cock, finally. There's no resistance when Jean lifts his legs. He does frown a little at Jean making it dirtier than it needs to be, but it's not like he cares. Eren's face is still a mess of tacky blood and dried spit, so whatever.
He reaches for Jean, but he's not at a good angle for it.
"God, just fuck me for real already."
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Eren wants to get fucked, though, and he feels his hand try to find some purchase on his body. He braces his own knees on the bed a little more, and starts a brutal pace. There's not much that seems romantic about this, Jean holding Eren in half and fucking into him deep, but it's the closest they can get without letting Eren eat him. Or him eat Eren.
He wishes he could be inside Eren's mind, just for a little bit, to figure it all out. He'll settle for fucking him instead, leaning down to press Eren's legs further back and look into his face as he fucks him.
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It isn't romance but it's what they've got, Jean going hard and Eren unable to keep from making noise (not that he's trying at this point). He should be embarrassed about this, about the others hearing them, but he's not. It isn't that he has no shame at all, but why have any about this? He won't even be here to make all this noise soon. He has to take what he can get while he can. Take, take, take.
There's a slight burn from the stretch of his legs but that doesn't bother him.
"That's all you got?" he says, breathless but still managing to goad. It isn't that this isn't good enough or hard enough. He's just Eren and he can't help but continue to be a pain.
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It makes him groan, a little, hair falling out of the slicked back style and into his face, curling a little. He hikes one of Eren's legs further up his arm, into the crook of his elbow, making him bend even further. With his hand freed, he reaches up to wrap it around the front of Eren's throat, squeezing.
And because he's a gentleman, he shifts his hips a little, trying to brush over Eren's prostate so it's not just the stretch that's making Eren groan.
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He's never been good at just shutting up, at not pushing Jean's buttons just to push them. Jean giving him exactly what he wants doesn't change that about him, unfortunately for both of them.
Eren watches Jean's face for a moment. He's not the only one coming undone here, he knows, and somewhere in a place where he still enjoys things in a semi-normal way, he likes knowing that. He likes that this has never been one-sided. He likes that Jean wants him even after everything.
One day Jean won't look at him like this anymore. Like everything, he wants to hold this as long as he possibly can.
Then he can't say much of anything, because Jean's hand is around his throat. He doesn't struggle. Why would he? It's not that big a deal yet and really it just gets him going more. He's breathing open-mouthed, noisy, still making whatever needy sound manages to escape when Jean's hand tightens.
Jean's cock moves against his prostate and he jolts a little under it, the little shock and more intense pleasure of it. One hand clenches against the blanket under him, pulling it into a mess. There's a metaphor there somewhere.