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."
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.