The five-minute drive to the corner store didn’t eat up much time, and Eren spent the first half of the hour trying to figure out how to kill the next. He stalled for as long as he could, running down a mental checklist of household essentials and uselessly debating between soda brands. But after a while, he started to feel like a weirdo for stalking every aisle twice over. 

Eren didn’t like being at the apartment when your boyfriend was there. It wasn’t anything personal—okay, maybe it was a little personal, he could admit. Eren had told you before that he was a major douchebag, but hey, at least he was honest. 

Anyway, it wasn’t like anyone wanted to be around when their roommate was getting laid, but Eren had nowhere else to be and a gas tank bordering on empty. He couldn’t even take the long way home.

Somewhere in his gut, Eren hoped you’d be there to greet him when he returned instead of just your boyfriend’s shoes. Not for any special reason; he was just bored. What was the point of having a roommate if they always stayed locked away in their bedroom?

Of course, you’d only been ‘locked away’ for a handful of hours, but that felt more like an eternity to Eren—always one for dramatics. It was an ordinary Tuesday night, with nothing to see or do except wait until he was tired enough for bed. He couldn’t even enjoy the show he’d been watching because you scolded him for putting on an episode while you were out. ‘I can’t believe you watched our show without me!’ Eren wasn’t sure when the ‘our show’ thing started, because it didn’t even seem like you’d been paying attention. 

Unfortunately for him, when Eren stepped through the front door, you weren’t curled in your usual nook on the couch. Your boyfriend’s shoes were still annoyingly kicked to the side, and not a single thing had changed since he left. The apartment wasn’t spacious, which made the silence even more eerie as Eren slipped off his shoes. Even the metallic clang of his keys on the table felt out of place. Something was off. 

Before he could put his finger on it—before he could even crack open his bottle of soda—the first sign of life in the apartment showed itself in the form of shouting. Eren couldn’t tell if it was coming from you or your boyfriend. Probably both.

Your bedroom door swung open; Eren didn’t see it but heard the swoosh of it, the rickety wood shrieking on its hinges. Your boyfriend stormed down the hallway, shoulders tensed and hands drawn into tight fists at his sides.

What did Eren say about him being a douchebag again?

He shot Eren this downright nasty glare for no good reason, flagrantly huffing and puffing his way to snatch his jacket. He was rough with it, leaving the chair wobbly but still upright. 

Prickly and mere seconds away from acting on it, Eren’s disgust curled at his lip to return the sneer. But the asshole had slammed the door behind him before Eren could ask what the hell his problem was. 

The apartment went dead quiet once more. Though your boyfriend was gone, the strangely thick, suffocating air lingered on. Eren didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t move, feet planted like they had taken root in the center of the living room. He didn’t want to know what just happened, lest he wished to get wrapped up in your relationship drama, but he carried this dreaded feeling he was about to learn, regardless. Especially once the sniffling began, faint but spilling from your room and into the hall. 

Your bedroom door was still open. Eren grazed his knuckles against it, carefully trying to catch your attention. You only saw his head at first, tentatively poking around the corner. Only after he decided the coast was clear did he make himself known, leaning against the doorframe like he always did when he had something to tell you.

Your initial instinct was to hide your face, to swat away the tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was your best attempt at collecting yourself, but it was worthless because Eren had already glimpsed the puffy-eyed look on your face. 

You straightened out, uncrumpling your legs and letting them dangle from the edge of your bed. You started fumbling over snot-coated words. “God, sorry. I probably look like a mess.”

Eren didn’t know why you were apologizing, and immediately he felt a pang of sympathy. Despite how it struck him iron-hot in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with the feeling. His body stiffened. 

Thinking (hoping) you’d laugh, or at the very least chuckle, he didn’t disagree. Instead, he pitched you a boyish yet well-meant, “What’s new?” 

You pulled a face but otherwise ignored the comment, reaching toward the box of tissues sat on your nightstand. Eren was surprised there were any left, considering what appeared to be dozens surrounding you. Balled up and scattered across your bed, the floor, and even one on your lap. He didn’t want to, but he took a cautious step into your room. Then another, squeamishly watching as you loudly blew your nose. 

He should say something, shouldn’t he?

“So,” Eren started, rocking back on his heels once. “What happened?” 

You glanced over at him, still looking pretty rough. Streaks of mascara had smeared across the crests of your cheeks, even up to your temples, tinging them like soot. You sucked in a breath and answered, “We broke up.” Between the words, your bottom lip quivered. “He broke up with me.”

Eren’s stomach seized up as he fought off his primal urge to back away slowly and retreat into his bedroom. Say what you want about Eren—label him a cynic or accuse him of being heartless—but he didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with others’ emotions. To put it bluntly, he felt repulsed by them. Most especially, the waterworks that typically accompanied them. 

He averted his eyes like you were some tragic spectacle. He hated seeing you like this. It was such a bummer, no different from spotting a kitten forgotten in a rainstorm. He wished he could console you, find an umbrella and run to your rescue, but that was much more complicated than it sounded. 

If he had known about the breakup earlier (if you had responded to his text message), he would have brought you something back from the store. Ice cream or red wine—the stuff he’d seen in movies—he didn’t know. 

Ugh.

Eren remembered his bottle of soda, still sealed with its condensation cooling his hand. He extended it to you, offering, “Here. You can take this, if you want.” 

Hidden behind your face as you swiped away tears, you grimaced.

“What? No, I don’t want that right now,” you grumbled. Eren could be such an idiot sometimes. 

Your voice was sour enough to sting, as if he had purposefully salted your brand-new wound. Eren’s face said enough—a resounding yikes—but he continued digging his own grave.

Eren tossed his head in the general direction of the front door. “You know, he probably hasn’t gotten too far. I could go kick his—”

“I think I just want to be left alone.”

“Well, what if we—”

“Seriously, Eren,” you snapped. “Go away.”

Tears collected in the corners of your eyes again, welling up like dew. Then, your bottom lip did that trembling thing again. It must have embarrassed you, and that was why you rushed to slam the door in Eren’s face. At least, that was what he told himself, rather than admit he was only making things worse—that maybe he was the last person you wanted to see right then. 

Honestly, Eren began thinking that was the case, and not just in that instance but over the coming days. 

It had been over a week since that night, a very strange eleven days in the cramped apartment you both called home. It wasn’t like you to keep to yourself. Even when Eren first moved in, when he was little more than a stranger to you, you liked his company. You even told him. ‘I just like having someone to talk to. That’s all.’ And you’d do just that, chatting to pass the time it’d take to wash the dishes or whatever other menial task you were up to. Eren never minded, but it did make adjusting to the newfound quietness that much more difficult. He could even admit he missed your unnecessary commentary while he watched TV.

He supposed it was naïve to hope you’d bounce back from a breakup after only a week, but were you really that hung up on this guy? 

No, Eren was sure you were giving him the cold shoulder for badgering you minutes after your boyfriend had stormed out on you. Not that it wasn’t deserved, but for the record, you still hadn’t apologized for slamming the door in his face. 

Neither of you wanted to lose this childish stand-off, nor were you above butting heads like a couple of rams, if given the right provocation. 

To outsiders, the two of you may seem like an unlikely pair. Eren wasn’t your original roommate; that was your friend Mikasa. After a few months of living together, she was offered a temporary position at her dream company a few hours south of here, well out of commuting range. That turned into an offer for a full-time job, just as her friend Eren’s sublease on her bedroom turned into a more permanent arrangement. The two of you have shared this apartment for well over a year now, for no other reason than that it just worked. Things were as simple as that. 

So, one could imagine why Eren had so much trouble wrapping his head around the situation. By now, it was customary, borderline a requirement of living together, for you to annoy each other. You’d poke and poke and poke, as roommates tend to, and no matter what, the other would come around, eventually. Eren always did. You always did. 

Except this time, even Eren’s bribes didn’t work on you. Not even a latte from your favorite cafe (conveniently located on his walk home from the gym) softened you. That was when he knew the situation was dire. Worse than when you discovered he’d been snitching from your expensive hair products in the shower. Things had become awkward, tense, and frankly, unbearable. 

It was Saturday night, probably creeping into Sunday morning. Eren’s eyes burned, looking a bit bloodshot the last time he saw himself in the bathroom mirror. He took it as a sign to shut off his computer. 

You still weren’t home. Eren didn’t know where you’d gone off to, but he didn’t care—though his rampant curiosity said otherwise. Throughout the night, he’d excuse himself from his video game, telling his friends he’d be back in a second, and on his way to ransack the kitchen for the umpteenth time, he’d check to see if your purse was in its rightful spot: draped over the back of the chair. For whatever reason, your absence irked him. 

You knew there was a chance Eren would still be awake when you returned home. You just didn’t expect to bump into him.

From the entryway, with your coat halfway down your arms and sagged around your elbows, you saw Eren emerge from his bedroom. He had a hand shielding his squinted eyes as they adjusted to the brash overhead light. 

His white t-shirt held the wrinkles of his bedsheets. By the look of it, it was an old shirt. Its collar drooped in the front, and its hemline appeared slightly threadbare against his sweatpants. He must have fallen asleep with his hair tied back, stray strands dreaming his cheekbones and curtained his lidded eyes. 

He blinked a few times, then let his hand slump to his side. He studied you with a judgmental once-over. “Did you just get home?” He sounded as groggy as he looked. 

“Yeah,” you replied. It was a dumb question, given your current state of toying with your strappy heels, balancing with a hand planted against the wall as you tried to slip them off. 

Eren retrieved his phone from his pocket. “It’s almost three in the morning.” He showed you the screen as if you requested proof.

“So?”

“What were you doing out that late?” 

You couldn’t decipher his tone, and for the life of you, you couldn’t read the expression on his face. For once, it was blank. Tired, but blank.

“It’s none of your business,” you snarked. 

“It is when you wake me up.”

You had difficulty believing you’d woken him up in the thirty seconds you’d been home. Regardless, you brushed him off with, “I was out with a friend.”

You were purposefully vague because it really was none of Eren’s business. But you let your attitude seethe to the forefront, and with it, an implication you didn’t intend. He gave you this look, stern and accusatory, but more than anything, he appeared absolutely baffled by you.

“You didn’t.”

He actually thought you went crawling back to your ex. 

You decided not to correct him.

“You can’t be serious? After what he did?” he said, referring to the nasty breakup. “After everything?” Referring to the rest. 

You were aware Eren had become an unlucky bystander to your relationship, frequently caught in the fallout of every nuclear fight.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping the sleep from the corners of his eyes. “You could be with anyone you want. Why go back to him?”

You felt insulted that he’d think so lowly of you. To think you were in need of a fatherly lecture—and from him of all people. The audacity, you thought, not reading between the lines when you barked back, “So what if I did? Why do you even care so much?” 

Eren didn’t care. What possibly gave you the impression he cared? You were a big girl, you could date whoever you pleased. You were certainly doing whatever you pleased; the only reason he was talking to you—the only reason he was awake—was because of you. Loudly stumbling through the door in the middle of the night, completely unwilling to consider his perspective on the situation.

A situation you created, by the way. Not just tonight, but eleven days ago. A situation that didn’t need to exist in the first place. The drama, the theatrics—none of it. You must have forgotten Eren wasn’t the one who dumped you. So, in his mind, the better question was:

“Why are you being like this?”

You defensively folded your arms across your chest. “Like what?” 

Eren opened his mouth, raring to sling some smart-ass comment your way, but he merely stammered. He blamed it on the fact that he was torn from his bed and immediately thrown into the ring with you. But truth be told, he could have had eight hours of sleep and a shot of espresso, and he would still suck at this sort of thing. You know, emotions. 

Words failed him miserably. He gave up on them and waved a hand over you as if you were supposed to know what that meant. “Weird and stuff.”

“Weird and stuff,” you mocked with a scoff. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.” 

“You’re never here anymore,” Eren said in exasperation. “And when you are, you’re ignoring—no, you’re actively avoiding me.”

You wanted to do exactly that: roll your eyes and stomp off to your bedroom. Eren knew that. He dared you to prove him right. 

In a way, ending a feud was much like defusing a bomb. Both had you backed into a corner, forcing you to decide on instinct alone. Clip a wire, red or blue, the choice was yours, and cross your fingers that it was over. You could deny, deny, deny. You could put it off for one more day, just to see if it actually explodes. Or you could end it. 

You gave a reluctant exhale. “I went out for drinks with Sasha. We went to her place after, got to talking, and I lost track of the time.” He sighed, too. You watched his shoulders sink. “The breakup was long overdue. I don’t think one night out would change anything between us.”

You told Eren the truth not because it was any of his business but because of the guilt pitting in your stomach. Yes, he was upset you woke him up, you understood that. But hearing him now, you realized his testiness ran much deeper than that. 

The tension in the room eased its grip on your throats. You sensed Eren was about to offer you some cliché, something about there being more fish in the sea. But if it were anything like his last attempt at cheering you up, you weren’t interested. 

You talked over him, confessing, “He dumped me because of you.”

The sentence fell to the floor with a blundering splat. You plopped this thing between you, then expected him to know what to do with it. 

Eren’s eyes narrowed, flickering over you from head to toe. He took in your words, scrutinized and dissected them. Before he could draw his own hasty conclusions, you explained, “That’s the reason he broke up with me—why I’ve been avoiding you.” 

He snorted derisively. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

“That’s what I said. But he told me I either had to move out—either find a place of my own or live with him, or it was over.” 

The mood shifted. Eren stared back at you apprehensively, waiting for you to go on as if you hadn’t already made up your mind and break your lease on the spot. He couldn’t fathom the obvious answer. 

“And?” 

You exaggerated it when you held your arms out at your sides. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You stared and stared at him, but for once, Eren had nothing to say. You finally disarmed him. He tucked his hands into his pockets in his own Eren-y way of surrender. 

“It sounds stupid, but I like what we have. I like this,” you said earnestly, even if you weren’t quite sure what this was: your living situation, your roommate-ship, your friendship with Eren. Whatever your set-up was, it was comfortable, and maybe it was just some lame proverb, but you couldn’t help but think: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 

You shrugged. “And I’m definitely not about to ditch it for some jealous douchebag.”

Eren finally cracked. His lips bowed into a small smile. “At least you can finally admit it.”

Deep down, like way down in there, you recognized that none of what happened was Eren’s fault, but that didn’t lessen the blow. Rather than facing it, you thought it was easier to pretend as if Eren wasn’t there, just for a while. Irrational, yes, but it was your gut reaction. And by the time you realized how petulant you’d been acting, you were too ashamed to fess up to it. All you needed was a bit of cornering, it seemed. 

You and Eren were too close, apparently. That was what your ex-boyfriend believed for however long he chose to keep the thought to himself. He stewed on it, no more than a simmer at first, until the whole ordeal came to a seething boil, splattering you when you removed the lid and asked, ‘Why have you been so distant lately?’

Once the argument ensued, it was as though you no longer spoke the same language. Anything you said, any explanation you gave, wasn’t good enough. To him, you were irredeemable. He’d already set his mind on the ultimatum before he even spoke to you. 

You weren’t oblivious to the fact that some may find it strange that you live with one man while in a relationship with another, but was it truly that bizarre a concept? That was how the card fell, so you made the best of the hand you were dealt. Which really wasn’t all that difficult, to be honest. 

Once he started listing everything you’d done wrong over the months, you put together just how long your living arrangement with Eren had been bothering him. He even went as far as to count your crimes on his fingers. Looking back, you wish you’d stopped him there. No one needed to be dating that kind of person, anyway. 

Firstly, and what appeared to be your gravest sin, was that he despised it when you borrowed Eren’s hoodies—which, in your defense, never happened often. Eren left them thrown around the apartment, so you’d only grab them to empty the trash when it was raining or if you went to grab coffee on a chilly day. According to your ex, he was ‘always’ finding them in your room.

Okay, maybe you could appreciate his perspective on that one, but he should have mentioned it sooner. His second reason—and this was where they started sounding silly—was that he ‘always’ heard Eren in the background of your calls. You told him it was far-fetched to think Eren’s naturally loud demeanor was somehow your fault. 

Then he became more upset. He ridiculed you for, in his words, being all ‘Eren this, Eren that’ about everything. Another exaggeration. If you turned to Eren, it was only out of convenience because he was right across the hall. You never had a chance to explain this, he didn’t give you one, so you tuned out the rest of his reasons, more focused on trying to make sense of the tailspin he’d sent you in. 

Then, it hit you. Not like a smack across the face—it was stealthier than that. It prowled from behind in a low rumble, creeping down your spine before pouncing, taking you captive in one go.

“Eren?”

The mildness in your voice took you by surprise. You spoke his name in a quiet request, the same way you would if you needed a favor from him (you did). Immediately, he appeared suspicious, but he met your eye and acknowledged you with knitted brows.

Whenever you needed something, you turned to Eren. 

You had to choose your words carefully now, but there was no careful way to go about this, really. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, unwittingly wetting it. “Would you… kiss me?” 

What you needed now was to forget. To lose yourself in someone else, just for a night.

The softness in Eren’s voice contended with your own. “Why?”

He didn’t say no. His expression certainly didn’t say no, either. And he didn’t dare draw back when you neared him. 

Sasha spent the night encouraging you to find a hookup, telling you the only way to get over someone was to get under another. But meeting someone new was hard. 

“I don’t know,” you slowly said. “Just want to.”

Eren flinched when you laid the tips of your fingers on the back of his wrist. You grazed them higher along his arm, noting how the hairs stood up as you went.

“Don’t you,” you started, in an almost seductive way. “Don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?” 

Eren sucked in a breath and his lips went with it, pinched between his teeth. He didn’t know what to do. Thoughts juggled around in his head; he couldn’t hold onto one without losing another. It didn’t help that the sight of you was incredibly distracting, either. He shut his eyes tight because he was pretty certain he was about to kiss you.

This was a terrible idea. Downright awful. But even so, he couldn’t say it was all that bad once he felt your hand on his chest, even if it made his heartbeat hammer. 

Eren opened his eyes to your face and nothing else. He took you in, from the top of your head to the very tip of your chin. Your hair was a bit out of place, as expected for three in the morning, but your eyes were as bright as ever. Something about them was alluring, though Eren couldn’t pin it. They grew larger and larger until they were out of focus. Closing in, your noses brushed, and Eren’s ‘yes’ died on his lips as he placed them on yours—an answer to both your questions. 

Losing his words between your lips, even as he asked, “Should we be doing this?” he couldn’t stop kissing you. 

You inched back but remained close enough for your breath to warm him when you asked, “Why not?” 

Eren knew you didn’t need him to break it down for you. You were Mikasa’s friend and his roommate. Someone he needed to keep the peace with, even if you were making it difficult. 

“Wouldn’t it make things weird?”

“I thought I already made things weird. And stuff,” you teased. He shot you an unamused glare, which you’d anticipated. “Whatever. You already pop a boner when you see me after a shower. Do you really think this is what will make things weird?” 

Heat scorched the tips of Eren’s ears. There was no way you knew about that. Unless you were looking for it, he supposed, but thinking about that made him more nervous. 

It was that damn robe of yours. The one you only wore once in a blue moon; the telltale sign laundry day was overdue. Eren had only seen you in it a handful of times, incidentally, when you’d pass by one another, but he could picture it easily. The frail piece of fabric hardly counted as a robe, bordering on see-through, clinging to your body as you’d leave the steamy bathroom, into the cool hallway—

You lightly smacked his arm. “I’m just messing with you.”

Eren deflated in relief, but the feeling didn’t last long because you were still between his hands, resting dangerously low on your waist. His senses drizzled from him much like a leaky faucet: drop by drop, until he wasn’t sure there was even any left. 

You batted your eyelashes up at him. “C’mon, you’re really going to make me get off myself?”

Now he was positive that any and all sense had completely drained from him. 

Eren swallowed hard. “Will this help you get over him? Because I’d really like to never see him again if I don’t have to.”

Yeah, that worked. That was how he could justify it. He was only helping you out. Nothing more. Then the problem would be fixed, and everything would go back to normal. Better, even, because now he wouldn’t have to deal with your ex-boyfriend anymore. 

“Mhm,” you murmured. Desire had been buzzing low in your stomach for the better half of the evening, leaving you fuzzy enough to agree to anything he said. Anything to keep the fire in you alive and burning. 

You went to kiss him again, but Eren dodged you with a small tick of his head.

“You just told me you liked this,” he said. “But now you’re willing to risk it? What if you wake up tomorrow and realize this was a mistake?”

He still struggled to understand you. He always struggled to understand you, even after living together for over a year, but this was next level. You had him utterly dumbstruck.

Let there be no misunderstanding: Eren wanted this. He was human, after all, just another twenty-something-year-old guy. Of course he wanted this. It was just that he was also very aware of the consequences. 

You touched his mouth with the tips of your two fingers and pressed down on his lips to shush him. You didn’t want words; you wanted incoherency. Purposeless and meaningless sounds and syllables. Groans pulled from the back of your throats. 

“If it’s a mistake, then let’s make it together.”

You invited him in with a peck at first. A taste. Then he pulled you back in to devour you whole. 

Eren kissed the same way he lived: passionately, intensely, maddeningly. He was better than your ex, which you didn’t expect. The thought of what else he could do better made your stomach flip.

His palm warmed your cheek as slender fingers wrapped around the back of your head. Like an anchor, it kept your dizzy self tethered to him. He smelled of sleep, and he smelled like him. The heady scent coiled around you. You inhaled as you kissed him, and when his mouth dipped to taste the delicate skin behind your ear, you buried your nose in his hair. You imagined your face shoved in his sheets, how they’d smell the same. You’d inhale it then, too, through gasps and an open mouth. 

You smoothed your hands higher up his chest, over his shoulders. Your nails gently scratched at Eren’s back, and even through his t-shirt, you set his nerves ablaze. 

The nagging part of his brain demanding he pump the brakes finally shut down, his entire body thrilled by your touch. It was entirely physical, fueled by carnal desire. Eren acted solely on what he wanted, and that was for your lips to stay exactly where they were. Instead of placing his hands against your shoulders to create some distance, he molded them around your hips. 

You clasped your hands around his larger ones and guided him to your ass. You squeezed down on them, encouraging him to fondle and feel you, and he took to it as if he’d already thought long about everywhere he’d like to grab. 

Mistake or not, Eren knew if he ended it now, the palms of his hands would feel hollow the second you left them. To stop you now would feel like abandoning a hearth in the winter.

You didn’t bother debating between bedrooms and made the decision easy by heading for the couch. If you were being honest, you had considered fucking on this couch before—not with Eren, obviously. The cushions were deep-set, roomier than most. Though it was evident you and Mikasa didn’t spend a fortune on it, at least it was firm enough not to give out beneath you. You’d respected your roommates enough to never give it a spin before, but with Eren, everything was shared. You could do it wherever you wanted. 

Eren lay you back on the couch and positioned himself above you. You wriggled below, attempting to make the space for him to fit between your legs, but it was quite the task in your jeans. You mumbled a ‘hold on’ against his mouth as you reached a hand for the button. Eren was eager to assist. Once your jeans were undone, he pulled them past your knees, freeing one leg so you could kick them off with the other. 

Settling between your thighs, Eren began kissing you again, and you could practically taste the desire on his tongue. His sweatpants did little to hide how hard, and heavy, he was against your leg. You imagined that if you slipped a hand below his waistband, you would find he wasn’t wearing any boxers.

Bunching his shirt in your first, you tugged at the hem. You lifted it out of the way so you could greedily glide your hand beneath. Tracing between the divots of his abdominals, you felt how they tensed as you trailed along. Once it was established that his shirt was no longer wanted, he sat back on his calves to tear it over his head. Yours came next, but it was a bit more complicated than his cotton tee.

“What the fuck,” Eren muttered once he realized your shirt wasn’t coming off. He fiddled with the strings tied around your neck, more frantic to get under the fabric with his fingers and tongue than he was concerned with being chivalrous.  “How did you even get this thing on?”

“Sasha helped,” you said, sounding a tad breathless. “It’s hers. Don’t rip it.”

“Did she have to tie it so many times?”

You arched your back as Eren slipped his hands beneath you, blindly reaching for any of the knots. The straps had been digging into your shoulders all night, marking your skin with soft indentations. With every slackened string came a sense of relief until, eventually, Eren had the shirt bunched around your midsection, your tits out. That was what mattered to him; he could figure out the rest later. 

He cupped your breast in his hand and brought his mouth to you. Your skin was supple and smooth under his impatient lips, balmy and warm from being pressed against him. With a pointed tongue, he flicked over your nipple until it perked. He sucked lightly until your breathing turned fluttery, then pulled off to thumb at it, mouthing over to your other nipple. 

Eren’s touch was resolute, weighed down by hunger as his hand mapped its way down your side. The sensation both unnerved and ignited you—the titillating vulnerability that was being with someone new; how he caressed you for the purpose of exploring, learning for himself what you liked best. 

Heat pooled in your stomach.  Lapped at you like the tides, though far less tranquil. Summery waters lured you in, kept you still and contented beneath Eren, kissing him, letting him kiss you everywhere. From your neck to the dip in the center of your collarbone, focusing the most on your breasts. He made his way down to your hipbones, where it tickled the most. He must have liked the sound you made, something of a giggle, because he grazed his teeth there, pulling the noise from you again. 

But as was certain, the tides would ebb. Tepid waves turned into sea swells. Deep in your stomach, that dull yet glowy ache begged you to do something about it, and fast. Your hips kneaded into him, inviting him to tear off your underwear and fuck you already, please. 

Eren hooked the band of your underwear with his finger, toyingly sliding it along your stomach. You twitched, frustratingly helpless to him. You bit back a strangled murmur urging him to get on with it. 

He sat back, eyes transfixed on where you wanted him most. And he knew just how badly the damp stain left on your underwear.

Eren pressed the pad of his thumb to it, his other fingers resting against your belly. He made soft circles against you, slow and testing. He observed every flick and flinch in your expression, his mouth slightly slackened in a smile that widened with each of your whimpers.

When he finally decided to take off your underwear, it revealed just how wet you were for him—your roommate. The back of your neck fevered when you noticed the lewd string connecting you to the soaked fabric. Eren snapped it with his thumb, and your eyes widened when you watched him bring it to his mouth.

He didn’t anticipate going down on you. You only wanted to get off, and so did he, and a quick fuck would achieve that. But as he played with your clit, your tiny moans had him craving to hear how you sounded when you were wrecked and sobbing out for more. And with the way you were spread and dripping below him—well, he didn’t want any of it to go to waste. Not with how sweet you tasted.

So without hesitation, Eren dove between your thighs, gripping you by the hips and pulling you against the heat of his mouth.

You threw your head back, and it smacked the armrest with a thud loud enough to catch Eren’s attention. He glanced up to check on you, and you found the sight of him inexplicably striking. You didn’t know why, but it was as if his piercing eyes had you pinned to the spot for him, like he had control despite being down between your legs. You went blind to anything but him and his eyes, dazzlingly green against the flush tinting his cheeks.

Once he realized you were (more than) all right, Eren pressed a kiss against your clit before swiping his tongue through you. You shivered as he licked you with broad, lazy strokes of his tongue, savoring you, the button tip of his nose nudging your clit.

“Oh, god,” you breathed sharply. Chin tucked to your chest, you let out a series of heavenly moans that were anything but holy. 

Eren parted you with two fingers. He added more pressure with his tongue as he swirled around your clit. You screwed your lips together rather than allow another cry to spill from you and let the neighbors learn how debauched you sounded when Eren made you come. When he closed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, you had no choice but to bite your knuckles. 

Admittedly, you had wondered before if he was actually talented at this, or if the girls on the other side of his bedroom wall were only trying to boost his ego. He’d answered that for you tonight, by delving his tongue inside you and fucking you with it. 

“Don’t stop,” you rushed to choke out. Your back curved up from the couch cushions. “I’m almost there.”

Closer. You needed him closer. 

You flung your hand to his head, raking your fingers through his hair. The useless tie slipped out as you further disheveled his bedhead. You pushed back the pieces that hid him from you, tugging as you angled him to the spot that made your thighs quiver. 

“Do that again,” Eren breathed, fanning the command over you. 

You did. He groaned. You felt the couch shift as he rutted into it.

Your stomach contracted, that last gasp hitching in your lungs. Whatever glorious thing he did with his tongue felt like fire licking up your spine. He brought you to the very brink of becoming undone until you felt like you were teetering it. 

Eren’s mouth slipped the more you wiggled and writhed. It didn’t matter how he held you, how deep his fingers dug into your thighs, he couldn’t keep you still. At this rate, you’d fall off the couch and undoubtedly take him along with you. 

Eren wrapped his hands around the backs of your knees, pinning them to your chest as a reminder to hold them out of his way. You held them there for him, whining when you felt his fingers on you in tandem with his tongue. He dragged them in and out of you, increasing his pace until he discovered the tempo that had you pulsing around him. He curled his knuckles just right, aiding his tongue in driving you to your release. 

“I’m coming—Fuck, I’m coming,” you whispered, ragged and hardly audible at the end. 

Eren sounded equally muffled, groaning as you started rolling your hips over his mouth. You heard him mumbling something about how fucking hot it was; you couldn’t make him out exactly, not with the way your heart thrummed loudly in your ears.

Unable to hold them up any longer, your legs fell to their sides, jittering ever so as you rode out the final pulses of your orgasm. 

As you worked to find your breath, Eren planted kisses against you, trailing up from your inner thighs until the two of you were face-to-face once more. 

“How was that?” he asked cheekily, grinning and everything.

You playfully pushed his face away from yours, but he continued acting smug about it as he went to kiss your neck. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him go for the band of his sweatpants. You stopped him with a hand against his arm. 

“Condom. Right.” Eren thought for a moment. “Open the side table drawer behind you.”

You frowned but reached a hand back to do so. Eren leaned over you uncomfortably, and you grumbled about it as he searched the drawer. After a second, you both fumbled around until you were sitting side by side. Him with a condom in hand, you wriggling to get your top off. 

As you threw the damn thing on the floor, you complained to Eren, “Please tell me you haven’t fucked someone on our couch before.”

He looked up from fiddling with the condom and gave a weary, “No.” You clearly didn’t believe him. He tutted his tongue. “Whatever. Like you haven’t.”

“I haven’t,” you insisted. 

“Well, you won’t be able to say that any longer.”

In one quick motion, he was above you once more, his hand supporting your lower back as he laid you down on the couch. You looped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself to him for a kiss. 

The intensity with which Eren wanted this, wanted you, surprised him. He’d spent the better half of his night feeling bitter toward you, grumbling about how you had barely spoken in eleven days. Hours ago, he was positive you didn’t want anything to do with him. Now, it was as if you never wanted to leave his arms, and he wasn’t sure he’d let you. 

The kiss was desperate, sucking tongues, skimming your teeth along them, tasting the desire on each other’s breaths. Only when he could no longer go another second without being inside you did Eren stop to catch your face. Between breaths, he asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Cheeks pinched between his fingers, your voice sounded squished and needy as you answered, “Yes.”

Eren’s jaw clenched at the pathetic syllable. He reached a hand down between your legs and touched you. He could play with you all night if you’d let him. So warm and wet and soft around his fingers—how much better you would feel around his cock. 

He rutted against your leg in a helpless search for friction.

“Then tell me what you want.”

Eren angled your jaw higher, brought his lips against your pulse point before kissing, sucking, and nipping at it. 

“Fuck,” you cursed on a delicious hiss. 

“Obviously.” Eren gave a breathy laugh. “Look at me.” You tried your best with his hand still cupping your face. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

You shook free of his hand, panting, “I want it rough.” You grabbed him by the shoulders and tugged him in close. Smoothing back his hair, you took his face between your hands. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you told him, “Let me feel it.”

You spoke as if you had thought about this before. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if your ex did, in fact, have a reason to worry. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, the only obstacle in his way was his sweatpants, which was quickly resolved by you both pawing to take them off. 

You found the half-opened condom, prepping it as Eren licked his palm once and fisted his cock a few times. A sight you’d call crass if it didn’t turn you on so much. Unbothered by your staring, he took the condom from your hand and rolled it on. 

Eren had you on your back, head laid on the armrest. You hitched one leg around his waist while the other dangled off the couch, giving Eren just enough room to nestle between.

He was hard against the crease of your thigh. With a hand wrapped around his base, he lined his cock up with you. The tip threatened to push inside, but he only glided between your folds in one slow, encompassing stroke. And just as slowly, an overwhelming warmth trickled down your spine. 

Eren continued toying with your clit. The condom’s lube paired with your wetness made it too easy for the head of his cock to slip between you, dipping inside, teasing you. Teeming with anticipation, you were already clenching around him so nicely, and he hadn’t even put more than the tip in. 

But he was just as eager, teasing himself just as much as he teased you. When Eren felt your feel dig into his lower back, wordlessly pleading with him to fuck you already, he succumbed. Not with a gentle tilt of his hips, but a plunge. 

Your wilted gasp became lost somewhere in your throat. You had to swallow it down before you could choke.

Caged between Eren’s arms, you were close enough to catch the slight tremble in his biceps once he was flush against you. His eyes squeezed shut, his lips parted in a shaky and, dare you say, beautiful sigh.

Eren stalled to adjust to you. You were sensitive, squeezing around the thick of him. Of course, you felt fucking amazing, but so much tighter when he split you with his cock and not just his fingers. He took his sweet time pulling out of you, losing himself little by little as he went, just to bury inside you generously again. 

He fucked you with smooth rolls of his hips. And god, it was absolutely effortless, sliding into you over and over, thanks to how wet you were. You scraped at the cushion as if it were a bedsheet, as if you could twist the taut fabric between your fingers to ground yourself. 

Once Eren discovered a pace that had you both breathing hard, he let his head drop against your shoulder. You took it as an opportunity to stifle your moans, mouthing and sucking at his neck, with hands flattened against his back like you wanted him to smother you. 

His skin tasted salty, and if he kissed you anywhere now, you were sure you’d taste the same. The heat between you grew more feverish by the second, leaving you grinding against each other in a sticky lust. 

When the blunt of your teeth dragged over his skin, you swore his groans tapered into low whimpers. You did it again, harsher this time, biting down as the lean muscle gave easily. It kept you quiet enough but pulled another sound from Eren. He muttered some curses you couldn’t make out, and you thought you might have hurt him if not for the way his steady thrusts turned into pounding. 

Already, you realized this position wasn’t going to work for long. Half of you had slipped from the couch, inch by inch with each of Eren’s thrusts. He’d hoist you back into place only for you—the pathetic, squirmy thing that you were—to nearly fall over the edge again. Then the process would repeat. 

Of course, you were the ones who made this more complicated than necessary, forgoing two bedrooms, full-sized beds and all, and chose to fuck on the couch because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves long enough to think ahead. 

Eren shifted upright. He closed his hands around your waist and yanked you closer to him, further down on his cock.

With a yelp, your head slipped from the armrest and bounced against the cushion. He took your wrists and pinned them above your head with a sturdy grasp. Your knees threatened to clamp around him, but he used his free hand to hold you open. 

“Keep ‘em spread for me,” he growled. “Wider.”

You liked how his voice sounded then, all raspy and weighed down by lust. You’d never heard it like that before, and it gave away just how turned on he was. 

You fucked like that for… You weren’t sure how long. Time was irrelevant after three a.m., right? One particularly good thrust had his elbows buckling. Unable to both hold himself up and continue his ruthless pace, he chose the third option and flipped you onto your stomach. 

You leaned on your elbows against the armrest, propping yourself up. His hand forced a nice bend in your back, then smoothed lower before taking a handful of your ass. He spread you indulgently, watching as his cock disappeared inside. 

Too weak to hold your head up, you let it rest against your forearms. “Fuck—you’re deep.”

When he bottomed out, the head of his cock brushed the spot that had you briefly seeing stars. 

Eren slowed at your dubious remark. You cleared things up with a demand of, “Keep going.”

He began ramming into you, and you were far too gone—far too focused on coming again to hold back any longer. The noises that poured from you were pornographic. Short and breathy bleats of ‘right there, right there’ as his cock sent sparks between your legs. 

Your fingers flexed and relaxed around nothing, nails piercing the meat of your palms fiercely enough to leave them tender. You didn’t know if you needed him harder or faster, and through a few choked gasps, you could only plead, “Fuck me.”

You emphasized it by rocking back on him. Eren’s hands found your hips and settled into the crease where they met your stomach. 

“Let me know if it’s too much.”

He was so casual that it almost irritated you. Whatever snippy comment you wanted to make, you kept it to yourself for the sake of getting off again. And you were glad you did, because you would have eaten your words not a second later.

Eren planted one foot on the floor, giving him extra support with every thrust. The first stole your breath; the second knocked it back into you. He took you from behind, sealing every rut of his hips by jerking you back onto his cock. In the tangled spot where too much became ‘yes, yes, yes,’ you became lost in the messy throes of pleasure. 

The sound of smacking skin was more severe than even your loudest of cries. Between, you could hear Eren’s grunts and huffs through his nose, restrained, but telling of just how riled up he was to be ravaging you like this. To have you take and take and take him.

You let your eyes close, only for a second, before they shot open again as you thrust over the armrest. Your chest lurched forward with the brutal snapping of his hips, and you extended a hand to the floor to brace yourself. And bent over that armrest, your ass so perfectly perched in the air for him, you let him have you. 

Eren didn’t let you hang there for long, just enough for the blood to rush to your head a bit. You were blinking and dizzy as he gracelessly swung you upright so you straddled his lap. You went with him, willingly, submissively. Happily. 

You sat on your knees as Eren grabbed hold of you by the waist to impale you on his cock. You gripped his biceps, throwing your head back with a moan as he took care of you, working you up and down over his length. 

He looked you squarely in the face, jaw tight and eyelids heavy with determined lust. You wanted to clear the hair from his face, but before you could, you were kissing again, roughly and carelessly, with him humming as you licked into his open mouth. 

When you pulled away for a breath, saliva connected his lips to yours. Eren’s eyes flitted down to your tits before returning to your face. “You look good like this,” he said, snapping the spit string with a flick of his chin.

“Like what?” you attempted to sass, but it came out warbled as he continued bouncing you in his lap. “Getting fucked by you?” 

“Exactly,” he panted through a half-grin. “Gonna think about this—you taking my cock so fucking good—every time I jerk off.”

That mental image did things to you. 

“Mm, fuck,” you murmured, long and sweet. You shoved a hand between your legs. “I’m close. Keep talking.”

If you’d seen it, if you hadn’t closed your eyes, you would have wanted to slap the smile off Eren’s face. He would have never suspected you’d be so into dirty talk.

“Oh, yeah? Gonna come again?” he cooed. You nodded dumbly. “Playing with yourself—whining on top of me, but you can’t get there on your own, huh? Need me to tell you to come, don’t you, pretty girl?”

The words were heavy on his breath and settled in the depths of your chest.

“Yes,” you sighed, rubbing at yourself desperately.

You sensed Eren enjoyed this—uttering such filth to you—as much as you did. Perhaps even more. His hips sputtered as they bucked into you, as if he wasn’t already rashly stuffing you to the hilt. You could already see the reddened, blotchy marks this would leave on his thighs. An unavoidable consequence of fucking like a couple of animals. 

“I wanna hear you say it.”

You started rolling your hips, babbling, “I need you to make me come. Please make me come.”

His cock jolted inside you, you could feel it. But he didn’t relent; he wanted to play with you for just a bit longer. 

“Tell me how pretty—ah—how pretty you’re going to look coming on my cock.”

You were right there. So close to coming that you would do just about anything—say anything—for him to keep going. It would spill from you in a drooly mess of course, but you’d say it. 

“So pretty—” A shiver reverberated through your whimper, your insides ignited. “I’ll look so pretty for you when I come.”

“Fuck yeah, you will.” 

He punctuated it with a firm slap on your ass, which you barely felt because you were coming, deliciously hard. 

You sounded pitchy and whiny, and you already knew Eren would relentlessly tease you for it in the future. You wished you could cover your mouth, but you were too overwhelmed to do anything but hold on tighter. Pleasure hit you in ripples, and you rode out every last one of them, carving your nails into Eren’s arms like you could wring out the last drops of your orgasm. 

“Goddamn,” Eren remarked, voice tight. “You needed that one, huh?”

He was right, but you wouldn’t have answered him even if you could.

When your shaky comedown finally subsided, it left you in a fog. You fell into him, hooking your chin on his shoulder. Soft, happy hums escaped you while you stayed there, satisfied, as Eren headed toward his own high.

He could have come two positions ago, but he finally allowed it to well up inside him. His hands abandoned your hips only for him to lock his arms around you, holding you there to fuck up into. 

Eren’s breathing picked up, his chest heaving against you. His thrusts turned erratic until he pumped into you one last time, deep, and kept you flush against him. It was your name on his tongue, the word he buried into your neck as he groaned from the back of his throat. 

You felt him throb inside you as he emptied into the condom. Gradually, he moved you over his length a few times to ease himself down. When he lifted you from his lap, his oversensitive cock slipped out from you, tearing a tiny hiss from him. After he let you go, you crumpled to the couch.

You stayed like that for a moment, staring at the ceiling, hands folded over your chest as you timed your racing heart. By the time it evened, Eren patted your leg and stood up. 

He went to the bathroom—you could tell by the fluorescent light seeping into the hallway. You listened to the faucet turn on, then searched for your underwear.

You’d already wrapped yourself in a blanket and snuggled into the couch corner by the time Eren returned. Your eyes lazily followed him as he pulled on his sweatpants and double-checked that you locked the door when you came home. 

Eren flicked the light off, but when he realized you weren’t following him to your respective bedrooms, he turned back to ask, “Aren’t you going to bed?”

You didn’t want to get up yet, whether it was because you were too sleepy, or because your body felt too doughy to walk—or because the thought of tomorrow now felt like a threat.

“No,” you said. You tugged the blanket to your nose and nuzzled into it. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” 

You figured that was that, but instead of leaving, Eren plopped down on the other side of the couch. He answered your question before you could even open your mouth.

“I’ll stay here then, too.”

“Why?” you asked. 

Eren thought it over, and though he couldn’t decide on an answer, he was just as content with, “I don’t know. Just want to.”

Everything was silver in the moonlight, barely sneaking in through cracks in the blinds. All the color had been smudged away like ink, except for Eren’s eyes. You made out the glint in them as he quoted you from earlier. 

“I thought you were so mad at me for waking you up.”

“I got over it,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, for some odd reason, I’m not so tired anymore.”

You laughed through your nose, and Eren tossed back a small smile in return.

He was still shirtless—not that you minded, there was no point in modesty now—with an arm sprawled along the back of the couch. His breaths were no longer heavy, neither of yours were, but you could tell he was still cooling off from your porn star sex because he was quick to tie his hair up again. Neater this time, with every strand up and off the nape of his neck.

His neck.

Eren noticed how your eyes widened, and it freaked him out. “What?”

You stifled a cackle. “That’s a nasty hickey you got there, Eren.”

His expression fell. “Shit.” He started prodding at his neck, looking down as if he could possibly see it. “Is it that bad?”

“A little.” You leaned in to poke the bruise, but he swatted you away. It only made you giggle as you asked, “Hey, can you put on our show? The one I like.”

“You don’t even know the name of it. How can you say you like it?”

“I know it! I just… can’t remember it right now,” you said, confidently and sheepishly, if that were even possible. 

Eren raised an eyebrow. “So I was just that good, huh?”

You snatched a pillow and launched it at his head. “I thought we said we weren’t going to make this weird!”

Eren broke out into the sort of laughter you only hear from someone every once in a while. One that made it feel like you could go back to the way things were—you know, before everything.

And they would, just as Eren hoped. Except now, he had a pretty good solution for the next time he pissed you off.