Jean doesn't want to let go; not because he wants the control over Eren or shit like that, but because he wants the point of contact. Connie really will jeer at them if they fight though (or rather, perform their version of fucked up foreplay), and he doesn't want to deal with it right now. He lets go, letting Eren's hair fall down, and starts heading to the tent, not looking back.
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.
no subject
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.