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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.