#bloomy writes

He couldn’t help but wonder why you were, for lack of a better word, like that. Cold. Standoffish. Withdrawn. He had a few theories in mind—only because lectures were that boring—the most probable being that you were just shy. That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps you were the type of student who took her classes way too seriously. He guessed you to be in your third year, like him. Maybe you were trying to get into a competitive graduate program. Or maybe you just really liked anatomy. Eren supposed that’d make sense. You seemed to like the textbook an awful lot, always reading far too closely in the way nerds do in cartoons. But there were other times when it was almost as if you were avoiding looking him in the eye.

There were days—usually when Eren was feeling particularly disgruntled—that your quietness irked him. He knew it was irrational to care so much, but damn it, why were you like that? And all the time, too. You must be stuck up. What else could he blame your perpetually cold shoulder on? He wasn’t proud of it, but sometimes he believed you were a bitch. Simple as that.

Eren’s theories could go on and on, but none of them were true. Well, you didn’t think you were a bitch. No, the reason behind your reserved attitude was much more straightforward than that.

You had a stupid crush on Eren. 

A girlish, twirling-your-hair-around-your-finger crush. The kind that made your stomach somehow feel both hollow and full, and had you gushing to your roommate even though you knew you’d never act on any of this.

You’d felt this way since last semester, in another class you had together. You didn’t think Eren remembered that; you still weren’t sure he even knew of your existence until your professor partnered up the two of you. 

God. Thinking about that day made you prickle with anxiety all over again. When it happened, you swore you were going to die. Like, actually keel over from a heart attack in the middle of class and die.

You liked to think there was another universe out there in which you’d feel thrilled to have such forced proximity to your crush. Maybe he’d even give you his number to text him about homework, and in that other universe, you’d be absolutely giddy over it. 

But that was not the case, because in this universe, anatomy was far from your strong suit. Very, very far. 

You drove yourself mad over all the ways you’d inevitably embarrass yourself in front of Eren, lab after lab. It terrified you, even to the point where you wouldn’t dare ask a question out of fear of sounding dumb. So you made do with what you had, pressed on without asking him to repeat himself, and scribbled down what little you could manage. 

It was despicable. Truly despicable, and you knew it, and still you pretended like Eren wasn’t there because that felt easier. Even if it meant you started seeing your grade slip.

You hoped to keep that—and your crush—a secret from him, but one day, he got a little too nosy for your liking. 

The professor handed back your lab report face down, like always. You knew professors did that for everyone, no matter the grade, but you couldn’t help but feel it was done specifically for you. 

You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself to peel back the corner and take a peek. Unsurprisingly, a lousy grade met you on the other side. Again.

For someone wanting to hide their score, you weren’t as careful as you should have been when sliding the paper into your folder. Eren leaned back in his seat, just far enough to steal a glimpse over your shoulder. For research, obviously. If you liked anatomy so much, then you must be pretty good at the subject. That would fit in well with your stuffy attitude, wouldn’t it? 

But what Eren saw surprised him, especially when he considered his own soaring grade. On his chuckle, he let slip, “Wow. Are you even writing anything down?”

You startled, slamming your folder shut. “Huh?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He was, but it didn’t come across nearly as lighthearted as he hoped. Eren often let his thoughts spew into words he shouldn’t say, but you didn’t know about that nasty habit of his. All you were thinking was shit, shit, shit. He had finally figured out that you had no clue what you were doing. 

Eren saw the panic as it spread across your face. He cracked a small smile at you, perhaps for the first time, as if it would help. Still, his eyebrows furrowed with a sort of pity he couldn’t hold back. 

“The lab.” He pointed to the crumpled paper, half in the folder, half poking out. You tucked it away entirely to hide the grade for the rest of eternity. “We do them together every week. How are you screwing them up that badly?”

What kind of question was that? You gave him a hard frown and regretted thinking he’d be anything more than curt toward you. Even with the pity brows, you weren’t feeling much sympathy from him. 

You replied with a blank stare, imagining how horribly this moment would torment you the second your head hit your pillow tonight—and for all nights to come, probably. 

You only snapped out of it when you heard his chair drag against the tile. He sighed, a little too loudly to consider it natural, and started packing his things into his book bag. 

“Look,” Eren started to say. He glanced up at you once he’d zipped his bag shut, and it made you flighty. “You don’t have to be stuck with a shitty grade. There’s still time left in the semester. I bet I can help.”

His voice was flat, and you didn’t care for his delivery much, but beneath that, there was a glint of sincerity. You weren’t sure where it came from, and frankly, neither did Eren. He regretted being so thoughtless with his words. It was hard not to after seeing the way your face—always so stoic he’d think you were made of marble—turned so sullen. He didn’t like how it made him feel, less so knowing you could pull such a visceral reaction from him.

“You still have my number, yeah?” Eren asked.

You nodded. You did, in fact, still have his phone number, scratched into the first page of your notebook. He wrote it down after your first class together, just like you hoped he would. You decided not to do anything with it. You didn’t even save it to your phone to prevent any possibility of a stupid, drunken text.

“Good,” he said. “We can meet up sometime to study together.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” you said, quietly at first, but your confidence grew with each word when you realized this might not have to go down as one of your top ten most humiliating memories.

“Sure.” Eren stood and swung his bag over his shoulder. He smiled at you again, real this time, big enough to make your stomach flop. “I can’t let my lab partner flunk out on me.”

So, that was where it began—‘it’ referring to you and Eren occasionally studying together. Nothing more. Definitely not the fun sort of studying—you know, like having him study your anatomy rather than the pictures in his textbook. Oh, well. You could still dream.

It took about two study sessions before you didn’t feel you were on the edge of your seat around Eren. As lame as it sounded, he made you incredibly nervous—much more nervous than you felt around him in class, and you didn’t even think that was possible. 

Just like in class, you tried your very hardest to keep your eyes on your text. But as shameful as it was to admit, you occasionally snuck a glance. Only when you were certain he wouldn’t notice, because if he did, you knew you’d turn into a pile of goo before you could even look away. 

You’d catch him while he was jotting something down because you liked how he looked when he was pensive. His dark brows would sit low over his eyes, and his bottom lip would jut out ever so slightly. And sometimes, only when he was completely stumped, he’d run his fingers through his hair in thought. You liked that a lot, too. 

By the time midterms had come and gone, you were seeing Eren more and more—at least twice a week outside of class, maybe a third time if you had a lab report due. By then, it was impossible to let your heart continue to flutter every time you looked him in the eyes. Otherwise, it was bound to give out. 

What you wanted to be study dates (emphasis on ‘dates’) quickly became what felt like tutoring lessons—and just to be clear, you were not the tutor. After Eren convinced you his willingness to help was genuine, you didn’t worry as much about sounding dumb. He never seemed bothered when he had to explain a topic, even if you went overboard with the questions.

Though he did like to poke fun at you for your frequent mix-ups and mispronunciations. But you made sure to never let him live down spelling ‘brain’ as ‘brian.’ 

“It was one time,” he’d always complain back. 

After being scolded one too many times for goofing off in the library, you had to make do with other spots around campus, like in a cafe or even out on the green. Other times, especially as the weather began to cool, you’d meet Eren at his place, just a five-minute jaunt from campus. 

He lived in a house with three other boys: Armin, Jean, and Connie. You found Jean and Connie to be nice enough based on the handful of conversations you had with them. Despite that, Eren blamed them for the reason you didn’t study at his house often, accusing them of being too distracting to think straight. You didn’t necessarily agree, but hey, you weren’t the one who had to live with them.

Eren would never tell you this—hell, he couldn’t think of a single person he’d say this aloud to—but the real reason he didn’t like to study at his place was Armin. 

Eren’s blonde best friend for the last ten years. His roommate, whom you would describe as cute as a button and sharp as a tack. Armin knew much more about anatomy than you and Eren (maybe even combined) and liked to join in when he was bored, answering the questions that Eren couldn’t. 

Eren couldn’t pinpoint exactly why this bothered him so much. He always knew Armin was smarter than him; that had never been a problem before. Now, it bothered him to no end. But rather than deal with it head-on, Eren decided studying at your apartment was the better solution. Your roommate, Hitch, was tolerable enough. 

It was around finals week when it happened. A healthy dose of reality, served as a smack straight across your face. A reminder that you still had a big fat crush on Eren. When your frequent study dates became less of a one-on-one thing and more like a group hangout. 

You were cordial, something between classmates and acquaintances, with the few classmates sitting near you. One girl, Mina, said that she, Thomas, and Samuel planned to get together to prepare for the upcoming exam. She insisted that you and Eren should join. 

You didn’t respond right away. You couldn’t, not with the way your heart sank into your stomach when Eren answered for you. 

“She needs all the help she can get,” Eren replied with a playful pat on your shoulder. He was only joking, but you wished he didn’t sound so eager. You especially wished his hand, so innocently placed on your back, didn’t make your cheeks burn. 

You did your best to get over it quickly. It was hard to stay bitter at people you got along with, so much so that you’d accomplish more chatting than studying. Luckily for the rest of you, Eren and Thomas knew enough to help you skate by. 

But when Eren started texting in the new group chat more than he’d text you, you couldn’t ignore the sting. It felt as though you’d let your chances with him slip by because next semester he wouldn’t be your lab partner anymore. He might not even talk to you again; he’d have no reason to. 

You left the final exam feeling okay at best. You walked out with your head down, not paying attention as Mina caught up from behind. She invited you to come by her apartment that Friday—something about your classmates getting together to celebrate the end of Anatomy pop quizzes. You didn’t give it a second thought when you agreed. 

You were at the get-together for maybe an hour, maybe longer, when someone was drunk enough to suggest a game of Never Have I Ever. You’d just thrown away your second beer and felt just adventurous enough to play. 

Mina’s living room was too small for hosting, but most of your places were. That didn’t stop her from decorating for the holiday season. With everyone crowded around, the strings of lights cast a colorful but warm glow against everyone’s faces. In the center of the ragged circle, some people sat on the floor, some on the sofa, was an old beer. According to Samuel, it was left out overnight chugging it would serve as punishment for putting the last of your fingers down. 

You didn’t know it then, but that beer had your name written all over it.

You sat on the floor, legs folded to your chest, with your hand growing tired in the air. Only your index finger remained standing when Mina shouted it was her turn. 

“Never have I ever had a body count higher than five,” she announced.

A few people put a finger down, but you knew it didn’t matter. You dropped your forehead to your knees in defeat and let your hand slump to your side. Everyone was laughing, hounding you to drink the beer, when you whined, “Do I have to?”

If you hadn’t been so busy downing that lukewarm can, pouting as you went—if your audience wasn’t so loud as they heckled you, maybe you would have noticed how Eren went quiet. How a firm crease formed between his brows the longer he watched. 

Eren didn’t know what he was feeling. Something sour. Something like the feeling he got when he saw you laugh with Armin. It made him not want to look at you because the sight alone made his stomach tight, but he couldn’t stop. 

Your body count didn’t offend him. After all, he had to put a finger down for the same reason. Though he had to admit, you surprised him (it was always the quiet ones, wasn’t it?) but that wasn’t new. The more he learned about you, the more he realized his assumptions about you couldn’t have been more wrong—especially the ones about you being a bitch and good at anatomy. 

Eren studied you from across the cramped room. Your nose crinkled, giggles spilling from you as you tried, for the second time, to finish the beer. He’d heard your laugh before. Many times, actually. But tonight, he found the sound captivatingly warm. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he felt his chest flutter. 

His thoughts drifted further and further, recklessly so, until he found himself wondering if you’d crinkle your nose just the same if he made you come. 

Right then, he could see you underneath him. Naked. Your face twisted in pleasure, brows pinched cutely as your teeth dipped into your swollen bottom lip. He swore he could feel your thighs under his palms, soft and giving beneath them as he pulled down your—

It was so wrong of him. Wrong to be in a room full of people and pretend as if you were the only two people to exist. 

That swarming in his gut grew hotter. He took another sip of his beer as if it would dull the burn.

Eren doubted himself into a downward spiral. Almost like a hangnail, he picked and picked at the thought until he created an open wound of his own making. What was so wrong with him that you weren’t interested?

He could deny naming the sick feeling as much as he wanted, but Eren knew what it was: insecurity. Jealous of people he didn’t even know, for no other reason than he had the chance to be with you in the ways he so desperately craved, to where he felt doubled over sick.

He felt fucking pathetic for it.

Eren didn’t stay at the party long after that. You left just before midnight and didn’t think of that game, or Eren, for the rest of the weekend. And on Monday, you were up bright and early to check your final grade for anatomy. By some miracle, you passed the class.

It was well into winter break when you saw Eren again. You bumped into him at a house party, when there was about a week left until classes started and everyone was trickling back to campus to celebrate the new year.

You didn’t expect to see him again this soon, but then again, you weren’t so sure you’d ever see him again. Anatomy class was the glue that held you together. You wished you could say you had more confidence in your budding friendship, in Eren, but he hadn’t talked to you since Mina’s party. You thought he at least felt some sort of stake in knowing if you passed the class. 

You told yourself it was better off this way, considering you nearly failed your lab because of him. Well, technically speaking, you passed because of him, but you wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place if he wasn’t your lab partner. 

All that bullshit for a silly crush. 

You stumbled into Eren toward the end of the night, when parties start feeling spacey and liminal, between night and day. A couple of lights were on now, and whoever was in charge of the music had clearly given up long ago. It was all pointing to a not-so-subtle hint to get out. 

And you wanted nothing more than to get out. You would have been out of there thirty minutes ago if it weren’t for Hitch. Your loveable, yet self-admittedly ditzy roommate had disappeared into thin air. 

By the time you began searching for her, you’d already drunk well past your limit. You were left dizzy, starving, and having poked your head into every room and around every corner. No Hitch, but you did find lots of dry humping.

The last time you saw Hitch, she was one of those dry humpers. She was on top of some guy who you figured was the reason she even wanted to come to this party. You were sure you’d catch his name tomorrow morning. 

You were too distracted, too bubbly from the leftover New Year’s champagne to see what was right in front of you—even if he was rather tall, broad, and hard to miss. You didn’t even look twice as you walked past him. He only grabbed your attention after calling your name, but you only felt disappointed that the voice was too deep to belong to Hitch.

You spun around and the floor tilted with you. It took you a step or two to straighten back out, and when you did, your vision settled on Eren. 

He gave you a lop-sided smile, serving as nothing more than a hesitant greeting. He only made it more awkward by throwing in a cheeky, “Long time, no see.”

You returned the gesture by offering a chuckle that was only half-forced. The other half was genuine simply because it was easy to impress anyone after a night spent drinking. 

And since you had spent the night drinking, you felt all weird when you looked at Eren. It wasn’t that you were upset with him—maybe disappointed, but it wasn’t exactly with him. Eren never owed you his kindness, and going out of his way to help you study was more than you could have asked for. You’d say you were disappointed with what could have been. 

But now that he was here, getting shoved closer and closer with every passerby, you didn’t know what to think other than you should have skipped out on that last drink. You hoped you’d feel more put together the next time you saw Eren so you wouldn’t get tangled up in again. You weren’t confident you’d be able to unravel yourself a second time. 

Eren took a willing step toward you and recognized the familiar haze of booze in your eyes. He realized you weren’t going to say anything, so he’d have to do the heavy-lifting.

“Were you looking for someone?”

“Hitch,” you said. There was a pause where you weren’t sure he remembered he knew her. “My roommate.”

“I know.” 

“We were supposed to get food, but I think she took a guy home,” you told him for no reason in particular. “The last time this happened, I walked in on them doing it on the kitchen counter.”

Eren laughed, harder once your face winced at the memory, a sight seared into your brain, for sure. “You should really consider finding a new roommate.”

“And in the meantime?” 

“You come back to my place,” he said, so casually that you were positive you didn’t hear him right. Your face must have given you away, and he tried to brush it off with a shrug. “What’s the big deal? You’ve slept on my couch before.”

He was right. You’d fallen asleep on his couch while studying once. He teased you about it—said you got drool everywhere.

“That’s different,” you sheepishly said. “That was an accident.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place,” he teased.

“Maybe you shouldn’t make your flashcards so boring!”

Eren liked his simple flashcards. He preferred them. Not everyone needed to spend more time highlighting and color-coding flashcards than actually studying them. 

He tilted his head in a look that said Quit being so stubborn for once but relented. “Fine. Then how about you tell me how to make them look nicer on the way back to my house. I was just about to leave, anyway.”

He took a daring step backward. Then another, until he turned on one foot and headed toward the door. He knew you’d follow him, and so thoughtlessly, you did. You stayed just behind as you meandered through the house and out the front door. 

You called out after him, “You don’t really need them now, do you? The class is over.”

“I just thought you might need ‘em.” Eren bounded down the porch steps and tossed a glance over his shoulder, just to catch the look on your face when he said, “Since you’re going to be retaking the class.”

You wished you’d shoved him down the steps, but he was already across the lawn, you trailing him. He walked with longer strides and didn’t seem concerned about whether you could keep up.

“Thanks for that,” you grumbled. 

“Anytime.”

It didn’t take long before the two of you were close to campus. You walked along the main drag, lined with various bars and late-night bites that thrived in the college town’s nightlife. The liveliness made it difficult to tell time; it could be ten p.m. or two a.m., and you wouldn’t know the difference. Every bar kept its music loud enough to thrum in your chest, beating perfectly in tempo with each of your steps—those of which were still fighting to keep up with Eren. 

He didn’t even bother looking back at you when he asked, “Do you still want to get food?”

“Hm?” You couldn’t hear him over your shuffling along the sidewalk. Your feet had already started aching hours ago, and this certainly wasn’t helping. You really shouldn’t have worn your new shoes without breaking them in. 

“You never listen, do you?” Eren didn’t say it with annoyance but with a laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”

“I listen just fine. You just mumble a lot,” you defended. “And for your information, I am not retaking Anatomy. I passed with a C.”

“C plus or C minus?” 

“Plus,” you said with inflated, drunken confidence. 

“I’ll alert the media,” Eren deadpanned. You stuck your tongue out at him even though he wouldn’t see it. “Now tell me, did you still want to get food or not?”

“I didn’t think it was still an option.”

“‘Course it is.” He finally looked back at you, nearly skipping to keep up with him now, just in time to catch your trip over a sidewalk crack. “I think you could probably use something to eat.”

When you were about to round the corner onto his street, Eren stopped short a few doors down at an unassuming 24-hour diner. You weren’t expecting to stop and sit down but to flag down a street vendor. Though you had to admit, breakfast sounded wonderful. 

Eren picked the booth in the back after you were instructed to seat yourselves. The place was small and smelt of pancake batter and stale coffee—just as any diner should at this hour. And stale or not, you knew you needed a few mugs to sober up. 

The waitress flipped your ceramic mug upright and filled it to the brim. If it were nine in the morning, steam would pour out, and it would look like a movie. But it was not nine in the morning, and you did not want to know how long this coffee had sat out. 

You took it with cream, then dumped some sugar in, too. Reaching for a second packet, you caught Eren staring as you tore it open, his hands folded around his mug. 

“Is something the matter?” you asked.

“Want any coffee with your sugar?”

“Ha-ha.” You added the sugar, now out of spite. When you took your first sip, it tasted as bitter as you’d imagined. 

Now that you were off your feet, the pain gnawed at you. You wiggled your shoes down, just enough for your heels to slip free from the backs. But it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t bear to keep them for another second—the diner was empty, anyway. Once they were off, your feet pulsed as if they had their own heartbeat. 

The waitress took your order before disappearing again, only making rounds to offer a warm-up here or there, which you gladly accepted. Eren didn’t make a peep when you added another packet of sugar this time. During the lapse in conversation, you kept your head low and fiddled with the loose scraps of paper. You didn’t even remember what you were thinking about when Eren eventually spoke. 

“You know,” he started to say. You peered up from the wadded paper you’d been rolling between your fingers. He leaned back in the booth and looked out the frosted window with a quiet chuckle. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”

You matched his laugh, yours more disbelieving. “Hated you? I don’t think I knew you well enough to hate you.”

As if he were thinking out loud, he said, “You were always so quiet.”

“Being quiet doesn’t mean you hate someone,” you explained. 

His eyes flicked from the window to you. “Then what does it mean?”

It was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking directly at you. His gaze felt smothering. You retreated your gaze down to the spool you swirled around your coffee. The soft banging against the ceramic was the only sound between you and Eren because you still didn’t know how to answer him.

“I don’t know,” you said, hoping you would have come up with a more profound answer by now. “It just means you’re quiet, I guess.”

A short stack of pancakes interrupted Eren, slid right between the two of you, decorated with a gooey scoop of butter. Eren only ordered coffee even after you said you’d pay. And once the server dropped off the syrup and scurried away again, Eren was quick to jump back into the conversation, much to your dismay. 

“But you’re not quiet, and you’re not shy either,” he said like he’d caught you in a lie. You urged him on with a raised eyebrow. He scoffed. “Don’t give me that. I know that’s not you. I saw you dancing tonight with Hitch.” 

Your hand stalled as you reached for the syrup. “You watched me dance?” 

His eyes widened, but he played it off well enough when he said, “I mean, yeah. My so-called quiet lab partner actually knows how to dance? It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“If you saw me earlier, why didn’t you come and say hi?”

Strike that. Eren almost played it off. He tensed up, noticeably so, and it took him longer than he would have liked to come up with his pathetic excuse of, “Oh, I think someone grabbed me for a game of beer pong or something. I couldn’t find you after.”

That never happened. Eren knew it, and he was pretty sure you knew it, too. The truth was that Eren didn’t go up and talk to you because he’d spent the last few weeks convincing himself he wasn’t into you. 

He went as far as reinstalling his dating apps, all of which he had long sworn off. He naively assumed that if he just went on a date, maybe even brought a girl home, then he would be in the clear; he wouldn’t think of you anymore. Easy-peasy. But by the time dinner was through, Eren could hardly remember a single thing his date had said. He was too busy comparing her to you, even when he didn’t mean to, and felt disappointed every time she laughed because it sounded nothing like yours. 

Then he saw you tonight. Of course, he had to see you tonight. And out of everything you could have been doing, you were dancing. Having fun, enjoying yourself. He favored you like that, when you were carefree. You were nothing like the girl he thought he’d met in lecture. 

And when he heard your laugh—more remarkable than all the others, like he’d strangely gone deaf to anything and anyone but you—he couldn’t remember why he was trying so hard to stay away from you. 

Now you were here, seated across the booth from him, cheeks stuffed with pancakes, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. He had spent the entire walk here wrangling with himself, scared that if he had you, even in the most innocent of ways, he wouldn’t be able to get enough.

Eren knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this because—fuck, what if you still didn’t want him in return?

He only lied about beer pong because he couldn’t outrightly confess to needing a drink before talking to you. He was so close to getting away with it, too. If you’d gone for another bite a second earlier, if he’d thought to take a sip of coffee to hide his face, maybe you wouldn’t have spotted the flushed bridge of his nose. So subtle, yet telling enough that you had to bite your inner lip to prevent a smile.

You held your fork before your face, inspecting the pancake as syrup dripped back onto the plate, purposefully flippant about it as you finally said to Eren, “It’s because I had a crush on you.”

“Huh?”

You plopped the pancake into your mouth, chewing so thoughtfully that it nearly killed Eren. After you swallowed, you said, “I had a crush on you. That’s why I was so quiet.”

He didn’t say another word, even with you staring him square in the face, expectant. It obviously flustered him. You laughed softly, just through your nose, then said, “That, and you always got better grades than me. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.”

Eren didn’t hear the second half of what you said; he was still fixed on the first. “Do you still?”

You knew what he was asking, but you played obtuse. “Still what?”

“Have a crush on me.”  

You mulled it over while you went for another bite, eyes on him like he already had the answer. He did. You both did. Still, you let the question hang heavy between you. You weren’t quite ready to lay your cards on the table just yet. 

You tossed him a flick of a smile when you answered, “To be determined.”

He nodded once, lips folded in a similar sort of smile. “Got it.”

You were satisfied with that, but Eren wasn’t. He watched while you took another sip of coffee before reaching for another packet of sugar. Before you could dump it in, he shielded your mug with his hand. 

“But you better figure out an answer before all that sugar kills you,” he said.

You swatted him away. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be the sugar that kills me and not the keg stand I started the night with.”

“You did a keg stand?” 

He said it as if he didn’t believe you. You giggled, “Only because Hitch talked me into it.”

Eren laughed with you despite the shaking of his head. “See, what did I say? You surprise me.”

You had only hobbled a few feet out of the diner before your heels started hurting again. You sucked your teeth in pain, only made worse by another step. You had noted two fresh blisters on your heels when you slid your shoes back on, but you hoped they wouldn’t be a hassle since the walk to Eren’s was short. Now, all you wanted was to still be drunk enough to feel numb.

“Everything okay back there?” Eren asked.

You were behind him again, but not because of his pace. 

“Yeah,” you said. Eren thought it unconvincing, and you confirmed his hunch when he noticed you stumbling in the corner of his eye. “It’s my shoes. I’m sorry.”

He stopped walking and turned to you. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just take ‘em off.”

“I’m not just going to walk barefoot.”

“Didn’t say you had to.”

You didn’t seem to understand what he was implying, even less so when he gave you his back and bent slightly at the knee.

He could not be serious right now.

“My house is just a few more blocks away. I’ll carry you.”

Okay. He was actually serious. Eren was about to give you a piggyback ride.

You didn’t intend to laugh, but it was only because this situation was so ridiculous—and partly because of your own anxiety, fizzling at the thought alone.

Eren took it differently, shooting you a comically offended look when he said, “What? You think I can’t carry you?” He straightened tall, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking away. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

“Wait!”

You wanted to blame it on your feet or say you didn’t want to slow him down, but you had to be honest with yourself: were you really going to pass up this opportunity?

Eren flashed you a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”

You ignored his boasting and began removing your shoes. He took them from you with one hand, then let you hop onto his back. His body didn’t give like you expected, and his arms were sturdy as they looped around your thighs. 

You hadn’t had a piggyback ride since you were probably eleven years old, but you could say with certainty that you didn’t remember it feeling like this. Eren’s neck was warm against your arms in the crisp night air. His hands were even hotter; you thought they might sear into the backs of your thighs.

Eren jostled you forward, higher onto his back. He warned, “Hold on tighter, or else you’re gonna fall off.” 

You hugged him, your chest pressing into his back. You’d never been this close to him before. His hair, only loosely tied back now, brushed against your face. His cologne was faint—warm like amber, but there was something refreshing that tickled your nose. You drew closer to him, inhaling the scent. 

Eren worried you felt the roll of his throat when your breath broke over the nape of his neck. How embarrassing that something as childish as a piggyback ride could send his heart racing. Suddenly, he was back in junior high, and it was his first time holding a girl’s hand. 

If this was all he’d have of you tonight, he’d be happy. Delighted. Even if it meant he’d end up waking up with a sore back. He wanted to earn back your crush, even if he wasn’t so sure it ever truly went away. 

Eren set you down on his porch and fished for his keys in his back pocket. Once inside, the house was blackout dark. You stilled in the entryway, entirely unaware of your surroundings but listening as Eren walked ahead.

Not a second later, Eren flipped on a light from the other room. It was bright enough to hurt your eyes at first, but at least you could see the floor now.

Eren stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He wore a look of trepidation, staring at you like you were some scared little puppy he’d rescued. 

“Can I get you some water?” he asked.

“Sure. Thank you.”

Eren gestured toward the sofa and offered a clunky, “Make yourself at home,” before disappearing around the corner. 

You’d hardly made yourself comfortable (if that was even possible in this situation) before he returned. You didn’t even realize how rigid your joints were until you had to uncross your arms and reach for the water bottle Eren handed you. 

You wouldn’t call the feeling anxiety. It was more like anticipation. The ‘will they or won’t they?’ moment of the night. 

Eren sat on the opposite side of the old couch, and it squeaked beneath his weight. “I imagine you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch in a house full of guys,” he said as he settled into the cushions. “Take my room, if you want. I’m fine sleeping out here.”

You nearly choked on your water. “I’m not going to take your bed.” You couldn’t, possibly. You didn’t think you’d even seen his room before. “You didn’t even need to go through the trouble of letting me stay the night.”

“Out of all my troubles,” Eren said with a certain warmth to his face, discernible in the lowest of lights, “you staying the night is the least of them.”

You smiled at him. 

You smiled at him, and you had not the slightest inclination how deeply it tugged at his heart. The smile was shy, no greater than a curl of the corners of your mouth, yet Eren desired nothing more than to memorize the shape of it underneath his lips. 

“Okay,” you finally agreed. You could have ended it there, and you probably should have, but his unreadable gaze had you skittish and rambly. “But, really, if it’s too much—if you want me to go, I can call a—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

You stammered, pretending you had something, anything, to say. Something changed, but you couldn’t say what. There was a shift in energy, a new glint to his eyes—in the look he was giving you. 

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that everything had changed. 

There wasn’t much air in your voice when you said, “I don’t want to go, either.”

Your admission was barely a whisper. So delicate and saccharine that Eren wasn’t even sure you intended to say it aloud. Your eyes went big and genuine, as if you had revealed some secret you’d been holding onto for who knew how long. 

He had the same look on his face, like he barely clung onto what little composure you hadn’t stolen from him yet. You liked seeing him like that—such an unguarded expression on a face that was normally hardened. Eyes soft and electric, all at once. You never thought he’d look at you in such a way, and you didn’t want it to end. 

Now or never.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounded just as taken as yours.

Eren knew you as anything but bold, but right then, you were incredibly so. Purring your words when you asked him, “Why are you always so nice to me?” 

The distant light from the kitchen cast shadows along the angles of his jaw, highlighting how it tensed. “Am I?”

You nodded. Slowly.

“How so?”

“You know,” you said knowingly. You stretched your leg across the couch, languid, inching closer to him until you had it draped over his lap as if you’d done it a million times before. “You walk me home when I’m drunk. Carry me when my feet hurt.” You nudged your foot beneath his hand, encouraging him to place it atop your leg. “You let me spend the night and even offer me your bed.”

You felt oh so courageous now, but you knew you’d regret the shenanigans the next time you saw Eren on campus. You could already see the smug smile he’d give you from across the hall or from the far side of the green—wherever you’d inevitably run into him next. You would turn into a puddle right on the spot. 

But none of that mattered tonight. You heard him stifle the groan at the back of his throat as your foot grazed over the front of his pants, and you needed to hear it again. 

“Not to mention,” you retracted your leg, sat back onto your calves, and leaned into him, giggling, “you tutored me in anatomy for an entire semester without complaining once.”

He looked from the hand you’d rested on his leg to your face. You were so close, knees bumping against the side of his thigh. He wanted to keep you there, he thought, as his hand cupped your cheek. You tried your best not to melt into him. 

“I think I might have complained once,” Eren said with a smile in his voice. His thumb traced over your skin. “But I can’t help myself. You’re very cute when you’re drunk and when you’re proud after passing a quiz.” He unexpectedly grinned. “And when you hold your textbook too close to your face when you read.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

You pulled a face but didn’t argue any further. You couldn’t, not with how close you were to him now, the tips of your noses nearly brushing. He still held your face as he swiped his thumb along your bottom lip. You wetted them, wanting a taste. 

Yes, you’d found yourselves here, but neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble the wall you’d spend an entire semester building together. One so tall that there were times you couldn’t see over it. 

Eren caressed your face. You moved with him, tilting in until your forehead pressed against his, and you could feel his breath on your lips when you told him, “I think I still have a crush on you.”

“Yeah. I know.” He wasn’t his usual cocky self about it. He sounded soft; he was relieved. 

Your hand traveled up his thigh, and you felt the muscles twitch as you went. He wondered if you had any idea what you were doing to him—how insane you’d driven him. You had to. 

“So,” you said, long and drawn-out. Your hand palmed over the tent in his jeans. He was hard. Much harder than you’d expect from some harmless flirting. “Are you going to do something about it?”

“Fuck,” Eren muttered under his breath. “C’mere.”

His hand slipped into your hair, fingers curling around the back of your head to pull you to him. What you thought would be a crash of lips was much more affectionate. Instead of kissing you as if he believed he could make up for lost time, he kissed you like he knew he had all the time in the world with you, finally. 

Eren’s lips were soft, every movement thoughtful as he coaxed apart your lips. His tongue was hot and licking against your own and made your head spin. You snatched a fistful of his shirt in some vain attempt at grounding yourself, but the longer he made out with you, taking his time with no destination in mind, the more helpless you became. 

“Eren.”

It left you in a gasp. A moan he could swallow up before it met the air. 

Either he didn’t hear you or he ignored it. He angled your head slightly, exposing your neck for him to explore. He kissed the corner of your mouth and down your jaw until you felt his lips at the hollow below your ear. 

“Eren,” you repeated, louder this time, more needily, because he’d begun kissing at your pulse point. 

“Hm?” he hummed, unbothered. Oblivious to how desperately turned on you were, how just his teeth skimming the delicate skin of your neck had your thighs clenching. 

“That’s why you didn’t want me to leave, right?” you said between heavy breaths. You let your eyes flutter shut as you felt him suck just above your collarbone, where he’d surely leave a bruise. 

You rubbed your hand where you could feel his cock straining beneath the zipper of his jeans. When his breathing faltered, you reached to undo the button. 

“Because you’ve thought about this before,” you murmured. With his jeans opened, you snuck a hand below his boxers and wrapped your hand around his cock. “Because you were hoping this would happen.” You nuzzled your face into his neck, peppering kisses of your own, noting his quickening pulse as you began stroking him, base to tip. “Because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Yes,” Eren groaned. He would have tried harder to hold it back, but his patience was already waning as he staved off his urge to rut into your hand. 

“I’ve thought about it, too,” you confessed. 

That broke him. Before you knew it—before he knew it—he had you pinned between him and the couch.

Your back hit the cushion with another whine from the springs, louder and more obnoxious than the one earlier. When Eren kissed you again, he was no longer taking his time. Because you were right, he couldn’t help himself. Not around you, at least, and not after hearing you wanted him in the same ways he needed you. 

It wasn’t long before the couch became too cramped for your liking, limbs slipping and spilling until you thought you might fall onto the floor. Only when your head dangling off the couch forced your lips to separate did you have a minute to catch your breath—or at least try to. 

“You said,” you panted, collecting yourself. “You said I could sleep in your room. Maybe you could show it to me now…”

Eren felt hazy, brain short-circuiting for the obvious reason, but your implication was just heavy-handed enough for him to catch on.

“Yeah. Okay.”

He helped you upright, fumbling around one another, climbing the stairs in a clumsy hurry until you were tripping over your own feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other for even a second. 

Behind his closed bedroom door, Eren’s hands became reckless as they pawed over your body, anywhere they could. You could feel the desperation, the firmness in his touch that made you weak in the knees and struggle to suppress your whispers. Each tiny sound encouraged him, riling him up further until he had you braced against the wall. 

His forearms, planted on either side of you, kept you caged in place, but you would have stayed there for him more than willingly. Forever, if you could. His mouth on yours was commanding enough that he could take you with him wherever he pleased. 

You hated yourself for getting more turned on at just the thought. 

Taking him by his loose, unzipped jeans, you tugged him close and hooked a leg around his waist. His cock pressed between your legs, and you ground against him because if you didn’t, you swore you might explode. You were only human, after all.

And, God, Eren wanted to give you everything you wanted—everything he had. There was a part of him that wanted to make you wait, maybe even beg for him, but like you, he was also only human. 

When he pulled back from your kiss, chest rising and falling with each labored breath, he could only tell you, “Bed.” 

With a bobble of your head, you repeated, “Bed,” and separated. 

Eren went to turn on his bedside lamp, and you figured it time to shed from your tight clothes. You didn’t think he’d be able to easily get you out of your top. After all, Hitch had to help you into it. 

The lamp cast a low, almost orange glow, but it was enough to make you feel keenly aware of his gaze on you as you peeled off your shirt. It bunched as you snaked it over your head, its slinky fabric hugging your body and revealing your bra with a subtle bounce of your tits. Every part of it, of you, was so shamefully sexy. Eren couldn’t get enough. 

As you went to take off your jeans, Eren neared you in a step. His hands closed over yours as if to tell you Let me do it. You watched silently as he opened the front of your jeans, his hands curving around your hips and shimmying the fitted denim down your legs. Once they fell and pooled at your ankles, you kicked them aside. All the while, Eren kissed down the crook of your neck, the spot he learned you liked, especially when he sucked there. 

Freed from the constraints of your night-out clothes, you pushed back from him and let yourself collapse onto his bed. You sprawled out with a stretch of your back. It felt so wonderful to lie against the billowy comforter, to finally be off your feet. You nestled around, relaxing like you could have lulled off right then—almost. 

The little sound you gave, a sweet moan of relief you didn’t even realize you’d let slip, made Eren’s cock twitch before he could even touch you. The sight of you, ready and beneath him, had him overwhelmed, to say the least. He didn’t know where to look—he didn’t even know where to start. 

His fingertips, though lightly calloused, felt exceedingly gentle as he trailed them along your bare skin. So softly that if you shut your eyes, you might not even know he was there. He started below the underwire of your bra, then down the length of your stomach. He tickled at your hipbone, and you squirmed so cutely beneath him.

How sensitive. 

Eren wanted to say something witty, but the sight of you stirring below him had him spacey and quiet. Even the chuckle he gave was hardly audible, just a huff through his nose. 

He only faltered when he reached the band of your underwear. In his fleeting lucidity, he blinked, hard, like it would clear away the fog. He stared down at you as if you’d given him a reason to be suspicious. 

Before you could ask what was wrong, he spoke first. “How are you?”

You mirrored his suspicion, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m good. Um, how are you?”

His face scrunched, and you thought he was about to say Not good. It made you nervous. You perched on your elbows, interested, waiting for him. He ran his fingers through his hair, as he always did when he was trying really hard to concentrate. 

“We’re a little past exchanging pleasantries, don’t you think?” you teased, mainly because you didn’t know what else you were supposed to say. 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Eren brought his hand to his head as if he could capture his thoughts before they slipped away. “Like, I mean—” Coherency was out of reach, especially with you laid out in front of him, head tilted with curiosity, staring up at him through pretty, heavy lashes. Had they always been that long?

Finally, he blurted out, “Are you still drunk?” 

Oh. 

You let out the breath of air you were holding. Thinking over your answer, you took an inventory of every feeling in your body, every fiber of your being only wanting him. 

“Not really,” you said with a shrug. “Those pancakes were a real lifesaver.”

Eren still looked hesitant. You took his hand in yours and gave a small squeeze, smiling up at him. “I want this. Like, really, really want this.” 

That softened him up, and he gave a short laugh. With your assurance, his fingers began their work again, pulling lightly at your underwear. As he played with the fabric, his once-boyish expression turned more brazen as he asked, “Then is it okay if I touch you here?” 

His voice was gruff, the timbre of it still ringing in your ears even after he stopped talking.

“Yes,” you murmured, eyes fixed on him, on his fingers. They pushed past your panties despite your hope that he’d take them off entirely.

That single, breathy word gave Eren the go-ahead to crawl over you. He planted one hand into the mattress to hold himself up, the other traced the crease of your thigh teasingly—but it was more like he was teasing himself. You were still propped on your elbows, close enough to Eren that with a tilt of your head, you were kissing him again. 

He glided his fingers between you, tracing your entrance but not dipping any further. 

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, still playing with you. He’d circle your clit, just until your jaw went slack, then he’d let up. “All for me?” 

“Mhm.” You exhaled indulgently when his fingers returned to rubbing your clit. When you lifted your hips, his circles became tighter, quicker, giving you exactly what you needed. You let go then, allowing your wobbly elbows to give out. Eren chased after you, nipping down your neck and leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. 

Eren, Eren, Eren. Thoughts of him, only him consumed you. Consumed by how good he made you feel and every place you wanted him.

And when you cried, “Ah—all for you,” you certainly weren’t thinking about how desperate you sounded for a guy who’d been nothing more than your lab partner until a couple of hours ago. 

That made him snap. In one impulsive motion, Eren stood and hooked his fingers around your underwear, tearing them off with ease. Once they were out of his way and lost amongst your other garments, his hand was rightfully back between your legs. 

He pumped his middle finger inside you first, curling it just right and putting an arch in your back. You thought he’d be arrogant about it, how he already had you (quite literally) bending to his will, but he was way past that. He was wholly lost in you, every bit of you. Your tiny gasps spilling from your kiss-swollen lips, your bra and how its straps had limply fallen past your shoulder to expose the supple skin of your chest. How pretty your cunt looked taking his finger. 

Eren’s pace ignited that delicious, familiar feeling within you. But just as quickly as it began burning in the lowest part of your stomach, you lost it just as fast. 

With a frustrated sob, your eyes snapped open to see why he’d so rudely edged you like that.

Eren tore his shirt over his head and threw it aside—another article of clothing you’d have to sort through later. “I wanna go down on you.”

You felt his words hot at the back of your neck—either that, or it was the sight of his deceivingly toned stomach. Or it was the fact that his words didn’t waver as he spoke so freely to you. Whatever it was, you couldn’t decide before Eren started stripping off his jeans. And if you were still unsure why you’d clammed up, the sight of him hard in his boxers–large and threatening to undo you—was most certainly the reason. 

You tried your best to look him in the face when you asked, “Don’t you think we should be fast? All of your roommates are home.”

That was the last thing Eren wanted. He wanted to have you, all to himself, for as long as you’d allow. 

But that was easy for him to say now; his willpower had already started waning. 

“They’re sleeping. Don’t worry about them.” Eren thumbed soothingly against your inner thigh. It made it difficult to say no to him. At least until he cracked a small, devilish smile. “I thought you said you were quiet.”

The daggers you shot him said enough. You had only started to bite back when Eren shut you up. He leaned over you, shrouded you in his warmth—even warmer was his mouth, his tongue, at your neck, running along the silky skin. 

Eren sucked at the lobe of your ear, and the airy giggle you gave traveled right to his cock. He kissed your collarbone as he dragged down the cups of your bra. The feeling of his bedroom air against your perked nipples sent goosebumps scattering across your body. His hot tongue quelled the chill, and you rewarded him with a moan—even louder when he took your nipple into his mouth.

You were so, so sensitive. All for him, too. Eren craved to learn every nook on your body he could kiss and every sound you’d make in response. He wanted to discover every last part of you, especially the ones that would have you wrecked. 

The kisses continued down your stomach, with him lowering to his knees on the carpet. Taking your legs, one in each hand, he pulled them back to make room to settle between. He placed your thighs on his shoulders and scooted you in close until your bottom half hung off the side of the bed. 

Eren palmed over the tops of your thighs and let the flesh mold to his hands. He left kisses there, too, his lips so close to where you wanted him the most. 

“Let me taste you.” His voice was a quiet plea. He pressed kiss against your inner thigh, then another, with his eyes fluttering shut like he wanted to savor you. “Please.”

You must have lost your voice somewhere in your throat. You could only nod a response, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Eren gleamed up at you. He clearly wanted to say something but was smart enough not to risk it this time. 

He kissed you first, then gave a flat lap of his tongue against you, just a taste. He licked you slowly, and even that was enough to make you suck a breath in through your clenched teeth. 

“Spread your legs wider for me.” You did as you were told and swore you felt him grin against you. “Good girl.”

You made a humiliating sound at that. One you didn’t expect, and Eren definitely didn’t expect either. It excited him, knowing how weak you were to his words. His voice. Him. 

With you fully on display for him, Eren couldn’t resist burying his face into you. His tongue darted to your clit, each flick another pulse of electricity at the base of your spine. 

You raised your hips to meet his mouth. His tongue remained steady, never letting up as he leaned into a rhythm he thought you might like—one that had you lacing your fingers in his hair. 

With a little more time, angling and guiding his tongue to just the right spot, you began seeing white behind your eyelids. 

“Eren—ah,” you frantically panted, “right there.”

He had his pointed tongue against your clip, licking in tandem with your rocking hips. When your thighs began shaking, he wrapped his arms around them and locked you into place. Even when you swore it was too much, you couldn’t slip away.

Eren continued having you feverishly, filling the bedroom with a mixture of your wispy cries and groans of his own. He was just as desperate for you to come as you felt, worshipping every squeak and squirm he could get from you.

“Eren, I—”

His eyes landed on yours. Not breaking his pace, he replaced his tongue with his thumb. “You want more?”

You swallowed hard and nodded.

“You want my fingers?” His thumb stilled. You mourned the loss only for him to dip his finger inside you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whined. “Yes.”

He used two fingers this time, collecting his spit and your slick before pumping them in and out of you. He leaned in, gave your clit a few kitten licks, and picked up right where he had left off. 

You were getting close, so fucking close, and if time could allow for it, you would have stayed in that feeling forever, just shy of becoming entirely undone. 

Admittedly, there were many times when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d be like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d want you this way, let alone beg for it. And you couldn’t have possibly imagined how the sight would absolutely ruin you.

Eren’s face, flushed in a blossomy pink that spanned his nose and cheeks, shoved between your thighs, devouring you whole as he stretched you with his fingers. You were so wet; he was wet. Soaked, actually, in a mess you might have cared more about if you weren't about to come. 

His green eyes, darkened like you’d never seen before, found yours. He moaned. He felt pathetic, unable to stop himself from shoving his boxers down his thighs. He took hold of himself, aching for the slightest bit of relief, because you were quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He knew you’d look even better when you were coming on his tongue. 

You whimpered when you saw him fisting his cock, nice and fast. He was so hard for you, and you weren’t shy about staring. You were too curious to see how he liked it, watching him fuck his fist with quick breaks to give extra attention to his tip. You thought about how he’d fuck you, how he’d like it then, and it pushed you over the edge.

Your cries came out choppy and strained until they cut out entirely. You sobbed silently, carelessly, rolling your hips over Eren’s tongue and helping his finger dip against that spot over and over again. You wanted to drag out the feeling for as long as you could. By the end, you were trembling, exhausted, and could no longer keep your eyes open. 

Eren had to stop pumping himself, or else he would have come from that alone. He sat back on his calves, one of his hands stroking your thigh while his other gently rubbed your clit. His touch was no greater than a feather’s, just to ease you back down. You looked like you needed it, all wrecked, legs limply pulled apart, just like he hoped. 

God. He annoyed himself for ever pretending he never wanted you, because you—you were a dream. 

And the only thing that could wake him from such a dream was your voice.

“Eren?”

He loved it when you said his name.

You sat up to look at him properly. It felt like there were a ton of bricks on your chest. Eren appeared quite the opposite, entirely unfazed. He had his cheek smushed against your thigh, staring unabashedly at the finger he lazily pushed back inside you. You jolted, still sensitive, still spasming around his finger. 

Eren felt mesmerized by the feeling of you sucking him in for more. He didn’t even look up when he replied, “Hm?”

You would have normally found the situation embarrassing, but you were still so touchy from your orgasm that the winding feeling in your stomach had already returned. Coiling tighter and tighter, it begged to snap again. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

He loved hearing that even more. 

If he were a dog, you’d imagined his ears would have perked up like you said the magic words. 

“What was that?” Eren asked, more playfully than you expected. You didn’t like it, especially not when paired with his grin. “I couldn’t hear you. You were mumbling.”

“You heard me the first time.”

He ran his finger down your thigh. “Say it again.”

It tickled. You fussed, “Eren, come on—”

“No, I don’t think that was it. I think you said something else.”

“Just—” You sighed begrudgingly before giving in. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Eren.”

He positively beamed at you, proud of both you and himself. He reached for his boxers, still hanging mid-thigh, and removed them entirely. 

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Eren straightened out and didn’t give you the chance to respond before flipping you onto your stomach. You bounced against the mattress when you landed with loud, conspicuous squeaks accompanying you. 

You felt Eren’s hand on your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. His fingers skated lower, down to your bra before undoing the clasp. When you pushed onto your hands, you felt your bra dangle loosely around your arms. 

Eren took you by your hips and raised you to your knees. 

“You look so pretty like this,” he said as he stroked himself with one hand, giving a light smack to your ass with his other. 

“Eren!” you yelped. “Roommates!”

“I thought I told you not to worry about them,” he said, punctuated with another spank. 

You could still feel the print of his hand when you heard rustling behind you. You peered over your shoulder to see Eren tearing open a condom. He rolled it onto his cock, all the while, his eyes kept you, naked and with your ass in the air, pinned to the bed. 

He flattened a hand against your lower back, then spread you with the tip of his cock aligned with your entrance. 

Eren guided himself inside more slowly than he wanted to, listening to you whimper as you adjusted to his size. It was a bit of a stretch but easy enough for him to push inside, having already prepped you with his fingers and mouth, leaving you aching for him to fill you with more. 

Once his pelvis was flush against you, he felt you flutter around him, squeezing his cock so perfectly he thought you must be made for him. A low groan bubbled in his throat, nearly a growl. The sound made your heart skip, right between your lungs, and you clenched to encourage another. 

“You’re going to make me come if you keep doing that,” Eren said in a hiss of pleasure. 

“Doing what?” you asked innocently. Then you did it again. 

Despite the warning, Eren didn’t protest it. Instead, he started thrusting into you leisurely. He was self-indulgent about it, spreading you with his hands so he could admire how well you took his cock. 

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered, quiet enough that it was as if he were talking to himself. “So fucking good.”

“Eren.”

The whine in your voice drove him wild. 

His hands, large and demanding, gripped your sides. The blunt ends of his nails dug into the fat of them as he pulled you back to meet every snap of his hips. The smacking sound of skin-on-skin bounced off the bedroom walls, but you didn’t complain this time. You only let your head drop between your shoulders, eyes screwing shut as you became lost in the throes of pleasure all over again. 

You reached a hand back to grab ahold of him where you could. He didn’t stop fucking you to ask, “What is it?” 

He folded over you, hand snaking up your neck and taking hold of your chin. He turned you to look at him, to see what you wanted. But you couldn’t form anything other than wimpy chants of ah, ah, ah, sounding mangled through your squished cheeks. 

“Tell me how you want it.”

His words alone made you bite back a moan.

Finally, you managed to say, “Harder.”

Eren smiled, slack-jawed and toothy, and you would have found it irresistible, yet totally ill-fitting, if you’d have seen it. But how else was he supposed to react? 

He placed a kiss at the base of your neck, then between your shoulders. It was unexpectedly doting, until you felt his hand curve around your front. Though you knew what was coming, you still squealed when he hoisted you upright with your back sealed against his chest. 

Eren held you there, fucking up into you, harder, like you asked of him. Your flimsy bra flopped around your arms with each of his thrusts. He groped at your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching at it until you were mewling. 

He continued taking you as if you’d always been his, and you let him have you. You let him use you like you only existed for his pleasure, with your head feeling heavy as it lolled back against him. 

But you were so much more than that. Eren was determined to make you come again. This time, he wanted to feel it. 

“Touch yourself,” Eren breathed, right into your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I want to hear you when you come this time.”

Your hand slithered down between your legs. The very tips of your fingers bumped into Eren’s cock as you got yourself off. Legs quivering with the added pressure, you were practically vibrating when you came, your heart pounding in your ears. There was no double he heard you this time around. 

It was a challenge to remain upright. You fell from Eren’s hold and landed forcefully on the bed, him toppling right along with you. You were still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm as he fucked you deep into the mattress; it had your thighs squeezing together so nicely for him. 

“I’m—ah, fuck—I’m close,” Eren grunted.

He surprised you by pulling out, but you realized it was only to roll you onto your back. He manhandled you like you weighed nothing, had your arms tossed above your head and pinned in place with a single hand around your wrists. He pushed back inside you, hard and fast, with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“I need to see you.” 

Your stomach flipped at his words as if they were poetry. Fuck. He had you so irrevocably wrapped around his finger, you thought. And perhaps you were merely lovelorn and searching for something that wasn’t there, but you swore he appeared just as ensnared as you. 

Your mouth sought out his in a sloppy kiss. It was suckling lips and colliding teeth, smothered grunts and groans as you ground against one another. But you didn’t care. You enjoyed every messy, frantic minute of it. 

You wanted to touch him. Wriggling until he released his hold on your wrists, you took his face between your hands. His eyes were moony and heavy-lidded and had you swooning. 

“Fuck, Eren—I want you to come,” you gasped.

Easy enough.

He came, hard. As perverted as it may sound, you wished you had a camera. You wanted to remember how his eyes snapped shut and to record every sound. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering, grinding as if he could reach any deeper. 

Eren’s breath was hot against your already sweltering skin. It was hard to breathe, especially under his weight, but you wanted to stay there and hold him for a little while longer. 

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t realize you’d been grazing your fingers up and down the back of his neck until he lifted off you. He let his gaze linger on your face, one last look, then nudged his nose against yours before getting up. 

You laid still, only watching as Eren disposed of the condom. Your legs felt too soft and lazy to move, so you followed him with your eyes instead as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants. 

“The invitation to stay the night still stands, right?” you asked. Admittedly, with some sass. 

“No, I was actually going to call you an Uber home.” Eren rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. What kind of guy do you take me for?” 

You giggled as you finally sat up. “Where’s your bathroom?” 

“Down the hallway, last door on the right.” Eren took one look at you, then started digging around in his dresser. He tossed something at you, aiming it at your head by the looks of it. You snatched it just in time; it was one of his t-shirts. “You can wear that.”

You held it by the sleeves and gave it a once over. “Is that weird?”

“It wasn’t until you asked that.”

You pulled the tee over your head and adjusted it as you stood. Your underwear came next, but you felt more hesitant to put back on your jeans. 

“They’re sleeping, I promise,” Eren assured as he put on a shirt of his own. “Just be quick.”

“Okay.” You left but poked your head back in to say. “I’m leaving the door cracked so I know which room is yours.”

He laughed. “All right.”

You followed his instructions, trying to be quick about it. You peed, washed your hands, and only stared at the fresh hickey on your collarbone for ten seconds before rushing back down the hallway.

Eren was in bed when he saw the door swing open. “Look at you, Ms. C Plus, not getting lost.”

You made a face at him. “Whatever, Brian.”

Right on cue, he complained, “It was one time.”

For whatever reason, you didn’t join him in bed right away. You felt a bit like a deer in headlights, blinking at Eren. He looked sleepy, his hair unkempt from your fingers. Seeing him like this, with you dressed in his shirt, about to curl up under his sheets—were you supposed to go along with this as if it were normal?

When you finally thought of something to say, Eren cut in first, “Don’t you dare try to take the couch after that.” 

That was exactly what you were about to do.

He chuckled, knowing he was right by the stubborn purse of your lips. He lifted the blanket for you—once again, as if this were entirely normal for you to do—and said, “Get over here already. I’m getting cold.”

Eren was extremely difficult to say no to, but you knew that already. You crawled into his bed without contest and let him tuck the comforter over you. 

Either his pillows were really soft, or you just felt that exhausted because your eyelids went immediately heavy. Eren reached over you to turn out the light, then let his arm fall on top of you. He hugged your waist and didn’t hesitate to pull you into him.

He nuzzled into the back of your neck, stealing a giggle from you. “Are you always this clingy after sex?”

Eren hummed an affirmative sound, tickling you again. He was most definitely never this clingy after sex. But there was no way he could keep his hands to himself, not with how good you looked in his shirt, barely long enough to cover anything. Maybe his tensions in lending you his shirt weren’t entirely pure—so sue him. You wearing his clothes was a sight he could get used to. One he had a feeling he’d get to see much more often.

Your parents had left for their annual end-of-summer trip to visit your grandparents for a week. It used to be a mandatory family event, but now that your parents had deemed you and your brother old enough, you had more say in whether you tagged along. 

Collin skipped the last two summers, but now that you were eighteen, this was the first year you could stay home. You thought anything must be better than a week spent cooped up in your grandparents’ house, but what you didn’t expect was for Collin’s three best friends to join in, too—for the better half of the week, so far.

It had become a tradition, apparently, as they’d gotten together the last two years. Honestly, you were just impressed your brother was able to pull it off without your parents catching on, considering he was never the one to pick up after himself when you were kids. 

No matter, though; their presence hasn’t bothered you much. The three of them had been your brother’s friends since the sixth grade. Having them around was nothing new. Of course, it was more fun when you were younger—back when you could play Mario Party together and force Collin to sit out. Now, you didn’t have as much in common with them, if anything. 

So, the four boys did their thing, and you did yours. 

Even so, while you were off minding your own business, someone else just couldn’t seem to do the same. He couldn’t prevent his thoughts from wandering and his eyes from lingering longer than they should.

It wasn’t Armin, of course. He wouldn’t dare look at you that way, the girl he tutored in algebra all those years ago. It wasn’t Jean, either, hopelessly consumed by texting his class crush, determined as ever to win her affection.

No, it was Eren. Also known as ‘the cute one’ by you and your friends once he hit a growth spurt and grew out his hair in high school. Though Eren was unaware of the epithet, he’d finally return the sentiment, thinking of you as Collin’s very cute sister. 

It had been a couple of years since he’d last seen you, and you appeared to have… really grown into yourself, to put it delicately. 

Listen, the thought was harmless. It wasn’t as if Eren expected this to happen, and there was no way in hell he’d act on the feeling. You were his best friend’s sister—and not just that, but his little sister.

Eren thought he was playing cool, but man, did you have to make it so tough on him? Did you really need to lie out by your parents’ pool every single day? As a matter of fact, when was the last time it rained? That would help right about now, wouldn’t it?

Back to the point here: Eren was, in fact, not playing remotely cool. Armin brought this to his attention as they went off together to grab another beer. You happened to be in the kitchen too, just to grab a snack, and damn it, why did you have next to nothing on? Like, yeah, the place was a little warm tonight, and it was your house and all, but seriously? Tiny shorts rolled extra high on your waist; a tank top that looked extra clingy as you reached for a plate on the very top shelf? For real?

“You can’t be serious,” Armin grumbled. After you left, obviously. 

Eren should have known what he meant, but he was wholly convinced he’d been treading carefully this past week. “What do you—”

“You can’t bang Collin’s sister!”

Who even says ‘bang’ anymore?

“Whoa, hold on a second.” Eren held up his palms in innocence, waving them as if he could shake the wicked accusation. “That’s taking things a little far, isn’t it?”

Armin shot him a look. He knew better than to take Eren’s word at face value. “Well, it sure looks like you want to bang his sister.”

“Who’s trying to bang whose sister?”

Both Armin and Eren startled. Heads on a swivel, they turned to find Collin emerging from the basement, Jean trailing just behind with a suspicious, low-browed expression. 

“Oh,” Eren stammered. He had to come up with something quick; Armin was a notoriously awful liar. “Armin was just telling me about some porn he watched the other night.” Eren threw in a shrug. “You know, where the guy tries to bang someone’s sister.”

Armin glared at Eren for throwing him under the bus like that. He reluctantly went along with the lie for the sake of keeping the peace. “Yeah, and then he, uh… bangs the sister?”

Idiot.

Whatever. The lie seemed to work well enough. Collin stared back at them like they were no better than a couple of horny morons. Jean dismissed it, too, complaining, “Can we stop saying ‘bang’ now?”

With the crisis only half-averted—Eren would have to deal with Armin more later, he was sure—the four returned to the basement, freshly cracked cans of beer in tow, where they spent the rest of the night playing video games until they eventually passed out. 

Well, three of them did. 

Eren couldn’t sleep, but that wasn’t entirely surprising. Tossing and turning on a wobbly air mattress didn’t make sleep come any easier. With the basement only marginally cooler than the rest of the house, he figured a glass of water might help him reset. 

Unluckily (or perhaps luckily?) for Eren, he was interrupted on his way to the kitchen. The sight of you, simply existing, lounged on the couch, spooked him.

“Someone’s jumpy,” you giggled while he cursed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” Eren asked.

“I live here, last time I checked.”

He made a face lacking the amusement your voice carried. “You know what I meant. Why are you still awake?” 

It was the first time you’d been alone together. Not the first ever, but the first time it felt different—since Eren had those thoughts about you. 

“Do I need a reason?” you airily replied, sort of on a yawn, as you stretched your arms. “It’s summer break, and I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

He didn’t offer more than a small nod of acknowledgment before moseying across the room, hands shoved in his pockets. Unsure of where this was going, you reached for the remote to pause your TV show. 

“Whatcha guys doing down there?”

“They’re all asleep,” Eren said. He stood idly because, like you, he found himself curious about what might happen next.

“And you’re not asleep because?”

No, he couldn’t think like that. Nothing would happen next; this was going nowhere. 

“I came to grab some water,” he rushed to say. Or, at least, you thought he sounded rushed. Before you could comment, he disappeared around the corner and into the kitchen. 

You listened for a moment, finger hovering above the pause button as you debated starting your show back up. But when the running faucet flicked off, Eren didn’t return to the basement in the apparent rush he was previously in. Instead, he stayed there, with you. 

Eren sipped his water as he mulled over what he should say. His mind was utterly blank. There was nothing to say, no reason he needed to have a conversation with you—what did you even have in common? And yet, there he was still, leaning up against the wall, dumbly scratching his midriff as he—

Wait. Were you checking him out? 

If there was one thing Eren learned in college—because let’s be real here, he had a nasty habit of skipping lectures—it was that he did pretty well for himself when it came to girls. Decent enough, he’d say. He at least had enough sense to know when a chick was interested in him. 

And now that you creaked that door open, ogled where his hand lifted his shirt and revealed his stomach, he felt he had no choice but to step inside and explore around. Just a bit.

Armin’s warning blared in the back of Eren’s head—after years and years of friendship, his conscience tended to have Armin’s voice—but there wasn’t anything wrong with casual conversation, was there? 

“So, are you excited to leave for college soon?”

There was no turning back now. 

You perked up in your seat. “Yeah, for sure. It’ll be nice to be somewhere new. Meet new people, make new friends—”

“Maybe you’ll finally find your Fabio.”

There was a joke there, unfortunately. One you hadn’t heard in so long that you physically cringed at the memory.

As Collin’s younger sister, his friends were first-hand witnesses to your boy crazy phase and all the dating flops that came along with it. Perhaps they even picked up that you were quite the hopeless romantic. And by that, you meant Jean had found a smutty novel you’d stolen from your mom. Yes, it even had that signature Fabio-esque cover, hence the joke. Anyway, he read the book aloud in front of your brother and the rest of their friends until Armin snatched it from him, which somehow made the whole ordeal even worse.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” you offhandedly chuckled, trying to mask the twinge of embarrassment you felt. “I was sort of hoping that would happen before college. But, you know—I’m sure plenty of people go to college inexperienced.

Your voice trailed off there at the end, almost like the notion bothered you more deeply than you wanted to let on. Eren scrutinized what you’d said, and it felt like a conversational game of hot potato. Why were you bringing this up, and what did you want him to do? Were you looking for advice?

Eren set down his glass and moved to join you on the couch, on the far side. “Is that what you’re worried about?” 

“No,” you blurted. You kicked yourself for having said anything in the first place. Your abruptness sounded just as bad, so with a sigh, you confessed, “I mean, I guess. I don’t want people to think I’m a loser for being a virgin.”

Again, why were you telling him this? Eren felt like he was playing with fire, and you had not the slightest clue. He knew the longer he stayed, the more likely he was to end up burned. Maybe even scorching everything around him, even you, in the process. 

Still, he poked at it. He added some kindling because there was a desperate part of him that was unwilling to let the fire snuff out. “I think there’s a fairly simple solution to that.”

“What, getting laid? I think I know that,” you scoffed. “And it’s easy for you to say that, looking like,” lacking the words, you loosely gestured a hand at him, “you. Believe it or not, I don’t exactly have suitors lining up outside my door.”

Okay, so he was right. He was picking up on something between you. You found him attractive, and he found you attractive. The answer was easy enough; he might as well go on and say it outright then.

“What if I did it?” 

You didn’t know what Eren meant. His casualness threw you for a loop. He couldn’t be talking about that, could he? 

“You know,” he said, “took your virginity.”

There was no misunderstanding now—but the crazy thing was, why were you actually considering it? 

Your brother’s friends, Eren included, had taught you all sorts of things before. Things they probably shouldn’t have, but ultimately came with having an older brother around. They told you to flush the toilet to mask your squeaky front door when you snuck out at night. Taught you how to roll a joint, and how to take a proper hit after you confessed you’d never ‘felt high’ when you smoked. So, would this really be any different?

While you considered his proposition, Eren took the far-away look behind your eyes as a horrible sign. He realized how insane he sounded, offering such a thing. Before he could take it back, blame it on the one too many beers, that’s all, you piped up. 

“Really?”

He certainly didn’t expect that. “I—yeah. Why not?”

Another lengthy pause passed before you accused, “Are you just fucking with me? Because it’s not funny.”

“No—no! I wouldn’t.” Eren started rambling, a jumbled mix of ‘I just’ and ‘I shouldn’t have’ until you decidedly cut him off before he could talk himself into a hole.

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. You can… take my virginity.” You felt strange saying it out loud, to Eren, of all people. Who would have guessed?

Then again, maybe this was the most logical outcome. You never wanted to make a big deal of losing your virginity, and you certainly weren’t looking for something romantic, with rose petals or a waterbed or any of that corny-porny crap. You simply viewed your virginity as an obstacle to get past. That way, when you inevitably meet the love of your life in college (okay, so maybe you were a hopeless romantic), you wouldn’t humiliate yourself the first time you hooked up. 

“Okay,” Eren replied on a sharp inhale, a breath sucked through his teeth, like the word was a sin to say aloud. 

He scooted closer, settling on the couch that once separated you. You expected him to kiss you then, and you leaned into him with closed eyes. Your lips barely brushed his before he stalled, not coming any closer than that. 

He asked you, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded, and your noses bumped. 

“I need to hear it.”

“I trust you,” you said, even quieter than him. You could barely hear yourself over the sound of your heart, thumping so hard you swore it might burst into your throat. 

Eren finally kissed you, tentatively, with his hand cradling the side of your face. He didn’t move until you did, and when you returned the kiss, he followed and let you take the lead.

The kiss was cut short when the basement door squeaked open. You jumped away from one another, back to the opposite sides of the couch. The panic quickly subsided when you caught a glimpse of the family cat’s bright eyes, her little head poking out from the shadows.

You clutched a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breath and your racing heart as if both were possible right now. When you met Eren’s gaze again, he was already staring back at you with a brittle look. You couldn’t guess what he was thinking. Did he regret what he’d just done? You didn’t, and you prayed he didn’t either. 

Before you had the chance to ask, he finally said, “Should we go to your bedroom?” 

“Good idea.”

Eren knew where your room was, but he still followed right behind you. At the top of the staircase, just before your bedroom door, you split. You turned to see Eren sneaking into Collin’s room. An anxious minute passed while you listened to rustling, and when he returned, he held that infamous, shiny foil between his two fingers. 

You grimaced, hard. “I’m not going to use one of my brother’s condoms.”

“Do you have one then?” Eren asked, already well aware of your answer.

“Fine.”

Eren had never been in your bedroom before. It felt foreign and, weirdly, wrong to have him there. He looked out of place, too big, too mature, especially compared to all your girlish knick-knacks and old photos. You wished you could have tucked everything away into some lonely drawer. 

You avoided Eren’s eyes and fixed your attention on adjusting the lights. Your bright ceiling light was far too unforgiving for this, so you switched it out for your bedside lamp. The drone of the old bulb buzzed in the back of your ears, its light a fizzy yellow glow. 

You were nervous. Eren didn’t need to see your face to know; he could feel it as you skittered around the room like a cornered mouse. He expected as much, considering this was about to be your first time having sex.

Eren felt his heart drop into his stomach, like that sick feeling you get on a rollercoaster, yet somehow you always want to ride again. Maybe he was just as nervous as you. You had to put your trust in him, enough to take your virginity on a whim. Handing it over to him as if it were some sentimental treasure he could watch over, for safekeeping.

Sure, he knew the optics were bad. Not just bad but downright horrendous, actually. He was about to sleep with his best friend’s little sister. Not just sleep with her, but be the first person to sleep with her, ever, while everyone was asleep downstairs. The situation sounded like a second-rate porno, like the one he had made up with Armin in the kitchen.

This was as much a blessing straight from heaven as it was a curse. But Eren couldn’t bother with optics now. Not after you took a seat on the bed, looking at him with these come-and-get-me eyes that may or may not have been intentional. 

No, this wasn’t a curse at all. If it were so wrong of him, then why did it feel so right? His cock already strained against his sweatpants at the mere thought of how delicate he’d be with you tonight. He needed to be. The last thing he wanted was to ruin your first time. He’d be the first to show you what pleasure could be with another person—what you were truly deserving of before going off and letting other boys touch you. 

He set the condom on the nightstand and sat on the edge of your bed beside you, his knee grazing yours. He was about to ask if he could kiss you again, but you entirely side-skipped any and all conversation, picking right back up from where the two of you had left off. 

Again, Eren relinquished control to you, except he was the one to take the initiative to swipe his tongue into your mouth. You tasted him and the bittersweet flavor of light beer. He was nothing like the last boy you kissed. He didn’t ram his tongue down your throat but kissed you like he wanted to muse over and memorize you. You let him, of course, lips languidly caressing one another with little point or purpose, solely running on instinct. 

You balled his shirt in your first, twisted the fabric between your hands to pull him close. Closer. With hands at your waist, he hoisted you onto his lap, and you went along with him more than willingly. You draped your arms over his shoulders, crossing them at the wrist, and you didn’t let your lips break from his even once. 

Eren smoothed his palms up and down the small of your back until he eventually garnered the courage to venture lower. He pawed at your ass, pulling you down to grind over him. Just once. Just to give you a hint of how achingly hard he was for you. After that, you did it again all on your own. Lightheaded and teeming with desire, the pressure against you, even through layers of clothing, was an addicting relief. You moved against him, again and again, until you were dragging yourself over him, practically about to get off from that alone. 

But Eren didn’t let that happen. Before you could get there, Eren gripped your hips to a halt. His voice was a mumble against your mouth as he asked, “How far have you gone?”

“This,” you professed breathlessly. “This is the farthest I’ve gone.”

Fuck.

He said the word of the night:

“Okay.” 

He breathed it out as if he were talking to himself. The type of sigh you’d give yourself in the mirror when you needed to calm down—which was precisely his goal. 

Eren lifted you with little effort, had you lie back on the pillows before he crawled atop you. He kissed at your jawline, then placed another on the side of your neck. He stayed there, left a few kisses, all lip, all wispy, like he thought he might break you. Gentle or not, still you felt each of them like an electric spark at the base of your spine. 

His fingers trailed over your collarbone before stopping short of your tank top.

“Is it all right if I touch you here,” he asked, punctuating it by toying with the neckline. 

“Yes,” you whispered.

With your confirmation, his hand massaged over your breast, thumb caressing over your nipple through the thin fabric. 

He began kissing you again, his tongue meeting yours while he rolled your nipple between his fingers. Your back arched instinctively, needing more. He listened to your body, learning as he went, and tugged down your top. He lightly pinched your nipple, pulling a whine from you.

“Can I kiss you there,” he murmured, referencing your tits as he gave another squeeze. Before you could answer, he started mouthing at your throat. 

“Mhm,” was all you managed. Your voice was long gone, lost somewhere between the open-mouth kisses he left along the dip between your breasts. 

It tickled a bit when he flicked his tongue over your nipple. Even more when he latched onto it with his lips. Your helpless wiggling beneath him drove him wild, and you hadn’t the slightest idea. He found it sweet how sensitive you were, his mouth being the first to kiss you there and learn the taste of your skin. So soft. And warm, too, heating up the longer he sucked at your tits, anywhere he pleased. 

Eren kept one hand at your waist, palming over your stomach but never risking any lower than that. Though his touch was heated and urgent, he only showed restraint. 

He pulled back to ask, “Have you ever touched yourself before?”

He was strangely calm for asking such a personal question. Face ablaze, you huffed, “Of course I have.”

What did he think? That because you were a virgin, you never thought about sex? Hadn’t even seen porn? Yes, you hadn’t actually done it, but you weren’t exactly heading into the situation blind. 

“Then—” The sight of you slipping out of your sleep shorts interrupted him. You caught the bob of his throat when he swallowed, but you weren’t sure he was trying to hide it. “Show me how you do it.”

Eren sat back on his knees, just shy of sitting between your legs as you rested back against the pillows. You hoped he didn’t notice your jittery fingers as you slid them beneath the band of your underwear. 

You began whining, “This is—”

“It’s not embarrassing,” he interjected, which only made you more nervous. Could he read your mind or something? 

But he was genuine, assuring you even while struggling to maintain eye contact. His attention flitted from your face to between your legs, where your flimsy panties separated you from him. 

“Show me how I can make you come,” he said. 

How on earth could he be so open about this? There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in his voice, not an ounce of shame. You wondered how many people he’d been with, how many times he’d rehearsed before he could speak with such confidence. Enough confidence to have you listening like a loyal puppy and plunging your hand beneath your underwear. 

You had the pads of your fingers pressed against your clit and began rubbing. Slowly at first, but already, that smidgen of relief was enough to pull a gasp from you. You were sensitive, throbbing, and so incredibly turned on that you didn’t shy away from his unabashed staring, eyes blown with pure infatuation. 

Eren rested a hand on your thigh before reaching for your panties. “Can I take these off?”

You stopped only to help him work them down your legs. Shimmying until he had them thrown to the foot of the bed. You were hesitant to spread your legs again, but he did it for you, placing one at either side of him. He took your hand into his and returned it to your pussy, eager for you to continue. So you did just that.

There wasn’t any doubt he could see everything now—how wet you were, how it coated your fingers as the circles you rubbed became tighter. Your head was in the clouds, playing with yourself just as indecently as you would if no one were watching. You couldn’t even bother to stifle the chant of gasps spilling from you. 

“Can you put a finger inside for me?” Eren requested. 

You didn’t think twice. You nodded and pushed your index finger inside before slipping it out again. With each pump, your muscles relaxed, letting you take more than before. 

“Yeah, like that,” he whispered. You heard the ‘fuck’ he cursed under his breath. “How’s that feel?”

Your eyes fluttered shut. “Good.”

“Try a little faster.”

You did, then bit back a whimper. 

“Add another.”

He needed you stretched. He needed you ready for him.

You took your second finger well; you’d done it before. 

“You’re doing so good,” he told you. He leaned in closer than before. “Can I help you now?”

“Please,” you breathed. 

But he didn’t touch you where you’d expected. At least, not at first. He held his fingers before your mouth. 

“Open up.”

You weren’t sure what he was after, but you obeyed, feeling lusty enough that you found yourself trusting him implicitly. He placed his middle and index fingers against your tongue, telling you, “Get them nice and wet for me.”

You sucked on them lightly. Saliva pooled on the back of your tongue as he pressed down. He pulled them from your mouth with a lewd sound and smiled at you. Something about it made your chest swell a bit. 

Eren moved to sit at your side. His presence felt engulfing as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close. The intimacy of it surprised you, but you didn’t have any time for second-guessing before he urged, “Keep going.”

You returned to circling your clit as his hand met yours. He traced a finger through you, and it set every nerve in your body aflame. 

“Can I?”

“Yes,” you said, practically moaned. 

He took his time as he pushed his finger inside you. It was much larger than your own, thicker, reaching deeper than yours had ever gone. Your stomach tightened as your body tried to adjust. 

“That okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” It was better than okay. “More. Please.”

The laugh Eren gave through his nose was warm. He moved his finger in and out of you, curving it just right to have you squirming in his arms. You understood now why he held you so tightly. He wanted to keep you still so that once he figured out what you liked, he could maintain his pace through your needy bucking. 

Eren had a hand on the back of your head, petting your hair as he asked, “You close?” He’d gone ahead and added a second finger, and you couldn’t answer outside of a rapt hiss. “Yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you panted against him. His body was dizzyingly hot, even through his t-shirt. 

It was becoming quite the task to keep your fingers moving, what with Eren’s hitting a spot you didn’t even know existed before today. It had you—fuck, it had you coming. So hard that you thoughtlessly rode his hand, eyes screwed shut as you fucked yourself on his fingers, prolonging the bliss for however long you could before turning to goo in his arms. 

Your chest heaved, body still twitchy, when he started asking, “Did you—”

“Yes,” you said on a drawn-out exhale.

Eren pecked your forehead. You could still feel the stamp of it as he maneuvered on top. He held himself above you, kissing you full on the mouth. Still hazy, you didn’t move much, letting him make out with you all he wanted until his lips traveled down to the dip behind your ear, then to the delicate crook of your neck. 

He bunched your tank top higher up your chest until you both tore it over your head. With that out of his way, Eren continued kissing lower—even lower than before. His breath tickled over your nipples, leaving you a needy, rutting mess. For what exactly, you didn’t know. Just more. 

“Too much?” Eren asked, looking up at you with his big green eyes.

“No,” you assured, mouth agape, in awe of him. “I like it.”

He pressed his smile against your skin, kissing and licking his way down your sternum.

When he reached your navel, you asked, “What are you—”

“Making sure you’re ready.” He kissed your hipbone.

“It’s really okay,” you said, slightly wary. “We should just get this over with, right?” 

“What if I don’t want to get this over with?” Eren kissed just above your pussy. “What if I want to take my time?”

He wanted you as comfortable, as relaxed, as possible. And since he was already about to fuck his friend’s little sister—with one of his condoms, for fuck’s sake—Eren certainly wasn’t about to go digging for his lube next. Thankfully, there was another, more fun way he could ensure you were wet enough to avoid any unnecessary pain that may arise from him splitting you with his—

Focus.

“I need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t,” Eren said, a grounding reminder more for himself than for you.

You yelped, almost choked, when he kissed the top of your thigh, then the inner part of it. 

“Can you do that for me?”

“Eren, I—”

“Please.” He licked a broad stripe up the crease of your thigh. A tiny ‘oh’ escaped you. He wanted to taste you already, he was begging for it. “Let me. I want to.”

“You do?” you timidly asked.

“So fucking badly,” he replied, but it sounded more like an admission. A white flag of surrender, like he was letting himself fully indulge in his desires because, yes, he had thought about this before. There was no use in lying about it now.

“O-okay.”

On that, he returned to teasing his way between your legs, kissing from the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs to—

“Wait!”

Eren immediately looked up at you like he’d done something wrong, but his worries were immediately quelled when you asked, “Can you get undressed, too? Like, at least your shirt.”

Eren smirked a little. He sat back to peel off his shirt. “Better?”

You scanned over his toned torso, sun-kissed from a long summer. Definitely better.

“Thanks.”

He leaned over you, his mouth inched from your cunt as he murmured, “It’ll feel good.” He kissed you there, and the sensation jolted through your body like lightning. “Promise.”

Eren parted you with his fingers before licking through you, letting the newfound sensation sink in deep. His tongue was warm, wet, and exceedingly gentle—nothing like his fingers or even your own. You couldn’t begin to describe it, but that might be because with the second lap of his tongue, you began losing any sense of coherency.

You made a few strained sounds, flowery and pathetic, but supported yourself on trembling elbows to watch. When you met Eren’s gaze, he only stopped licking at you to say, “Tell me what feels good.”

“Everything.” The word tumbled out of your mouth desperately. “Everything feels good.”

You felt his laugh as he closed his mouth over you. He continued having his way with you, sucking and licking, saliva and slick making a mess of his pretty face as he staggered kisses between flicks of his tongue.

Whenever his lips brushed against your clit, your legs would flex tight. Eren hooked his arms around them, laying them over his strong shoulders. You felt how his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, locking them into place while he suctioned his lips around your clit with more pressure than before.

“Ah—oh,” you moaned. Your back left the bed to press your pussy against his face, as if you could possibly have him any closer. 

That would happen once he was finally inside you. But that would come soon enough. 

Eren didn’t ask this time; he knew exactly how he was making you feel. Which you were thankful for because you couldn’t dream of him stopping, not now. You needed more, lacing a hand through his locks and giving tugs of encouragement. He groaned against you, clearly liking it, so you pulled again. 

He was sloppy with it while remaining… thoughtful? That didn’t feel like the right word, but even as he made out with the most intimate part of you, he did so with intention, doing that thing again, whatever it was, with his tongue pointed, because he already learned you liked it. He showed you that you liked it. Loved it, actually, evidenced by the breathless sounds you made. 

And when Eren paired his tongue with his sucking lips, you came with your hand clamped over your mouth. Your entire body gained a pulse of its own. This orgasm was much stronger than your first, and longer-lasting, too. The muscles of your stomach wound tight, then released while you rode out your high, with Eren groaning against you just as pleased. 

Once you were no longer propped on your elbows but flopped against the bed did Eren let up. Your thighs were still shaking as he kissed a pathway back to your side.

You began questioning how you were supposed to go for another round. You hadn’t even reached the main event yet. To be completely honest, you expected Eren to throw you on your bed, pop your metaphorical cherry, and be done with it. But now you’d already come twice, and he still had his sweatpants on. 

You should probably do something about that, shouldn’t you?

“I wanna touch you, too.”

While innocent, it was the most you had communicated with Eren this far, so he wasn’t going to stop you from reaching for him. He was more than ready. 

You explored him a bit over his sweats, tracing over his length and discovering what touches made him twitch, still as chaste as ever.

“Show me,” you purred. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do—a hand job was far from rocket science. You just felt that if you had to show him yours, then you wanted to see his. You wanted to watch. 

Eren tugged his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. His cock sprang out and nearly slapped the low part of his abs. Already, his tip was wetted, needy for anything after going untouched this long, even if it was his own hand. 

He wrapped his fingers around his shaft, working his fist over his cock, faster, until he was jerking himself off for you. His breath, fanning just above your head, went from steady to ragged, his chest tight. 

Already desperate to touch him, you pushed yourself upright, perched with your knees brushed against his thigh. Ready to take him with both hands. 

“Hold on.”

Eren fidgeted as though he was about to say something but decided to hold his tongue. He looked hesitant—sounded even more hesitant when he asked, “Can you,” he sighed, “Can you spit in your hand first?” 

“Oh, um.” You looked down at your open palm and tried your best to collect some saliva in your mouth. It was a little daunting, knowing he was watching as you spat into your hand, but he didn’t seem to mind.

No, he definitely didn’t mind. But he wouldn’t admit that to you right now.

You took him in your hand and mimicked the way he did it: with a loose wrist and your grasp slightly firm. When you squeezed over his tip, you heard the sharp inhale it pulled from him, noting how his pelvis flexed. Eren’s hand closed over yours; he was going to show you exactly how he liked it. 

Eren moved your hand for you, gripping it tighter whenever you reached the head of his cock. His pitched breaths turned into groans, brows hanging low over his keen eyes. He started thrusting, fucking your hand, and nearly forgot where he was—forgot whose hand he was using like his own personal toy. 

“Spit on it,” he grunted, that consciously temperate side of him shaking free of its restraints. 

He didn’t intend to come across so crass, not in front of you, and certainly not this soon. It was just that Eren couldn’t remember the last time he came from a hand job, but he was nearly there, with your hands so dainty and velvety around him. Not to mention the spit dribbling from your pretty lips before you spread it over the length of his cock. He was about to lose his last semblance of composure. 

But he had a much bigger agenda than fucking your hand. 

“That’s—ah, shit.” Selfishly, Eren waited another second before releasing your hand. You continued stroking him eagerly, and it felt wrong to stop you, but he did just that with a hand around your forearm. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep going.”

“Sorry,” you said, hands now politely to yourself and folded in your lap.

With a short huff of a laugh, Eren told you, “You do not have to apologize for that. Believe me.”

His chuckle had you smiling again. That closed-mouth, coy smile that he was quickly learning might become the death of him. He straightened out, taking your chin between his fingers so he could kiss you again.

“Lie back for me,” Eren whispered. 

You fell into the mess of pillows and tangled sheets below you, making yourself comfortable while Eren fetched the condom. You didn’t know what the feeling was—trepidation, anticipation, excitement, perhaps all three—but it bubbled in your stomach as you watched him tear open the wrapper before rolling on the latex. 

Eren pumped himself a few times with his hand as he reminded, “We can stop at any time if you need.”

Eyes wide and fixed on him—specifically on his cock, which he’d soon gape you on—you asked, “Do we need a safe word?”

Eren laughed, but only because you were so agonizingly cute about it. “I think ‘stop’ will work just fine.”

You did that smile again, and it yanked the knot in his stomach tighter than he even thought possible. Eren was so close to snapping—no, that wasn’t the right word for it. More like coming undone. Turning into a puddle of himself. Finishing humiliatingly early. That sort of snapping. He didn’t know what had him feeling this way, but there was something about you that made him feel like the virgin here. 

Eren didn’t dare push inside yet, not only for your sake but for his. His eyes, now brazen and alert, scanned over you in a silent check-in. When you gave him the go-ahead, nothing more than a bobble of your head, slowly, he tilted his hips into yours. 

With you unbelievably tight around him, he stalled with only his tip inside you. Even so, his breath had already hitched in his throat. He couldn’t hold back; he simply couldn’t. When he gave you a little more, between his eyes flitting shut, he caught the scrunch of your nose. 

“How are you doing?” Eren asked. 

There was a stretch, a certain fullness you’d never felt before. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel like he belonged there, either. 

“I’m—” You glanced down to where your bodies connected. It was considerate of him to take his time with you, to prep you with his fingers and tongue, but it didn’t seem to make much of a difference, and his cock wasn’t even halfway inside of you. Your nails dug deep into his biceps. “Okay.”

It didn’t appear like he believed you, which was a fair assessment as your statement was shaky at best. “Is it too much?”

“A little,” you sheepishly admitted. 

Eren pulled out, and even that made you wince. Your shoulders dropped back to the mattress, every muscle in your body easing up now that he wasn’t bullying inside you.

“Here.” Eren rolled onto his back. He guided you on top of him, set you so your knees straddled his waist, his cock resting between your legs. Somehow, it looked even bigger like this, laid upon his abs. “Let’s try it like this.” 

Like this? It felt incredibly vulnerable from up here, where he could see you in all your glory, bouncy above him. Plus, you hardly knew what you were doing—you’d just given your first hand job! You kind of thought you’d just lie there and take it from him, and now he was expecting you to ride him? The thought was intimidating, to say the least, even if Eren tried to assure you it wasn’t. 

“You have total control this way.”

That was the exact thing you feared. You didn’t want any control. What if you did something wrong? 

Apparently, you didn’t do a great job at masking your worry. Eren took your hips between his hands, thumbing softly and encouragingly against your skin. The entire point of this was to trust him. That was why you were losing your V-card to Eren, someone who wouldn’t make fun of you. That way, when it really mattered, you wouldn’t royally screw up. After getting this far, there was no chance in hell you would end the night a virgin. Well, half-virgin. 

Ready to try again, you drew a deep breath. You lifted yourself to your knees and before you reached for him, like the new sexpert that you were, you spat in your hand and didn’t mind Eren’s gaze this time. You stroked over the condom, mixing your saliva with the lube, then lined his cock up with you.

Carefully, you sat down. He only reached as deep as before, but the pressure was nowhere near what it once was. You rolled your hips, testing different angles to see what worked best and how you could get more of him (hopefully all of him) inside you.

Eren curved a hand around the nape of your neck. “Come here.”

He brought you in for a kiss—more than a kiss. His tongue licked into your mouth the second your lips crashed against his, tasting every one of your contented little hums. 

He snaked a hand between your legs, rubbing his thumb against your clit. Soon enough, your lips could no longer match his fervency, and it was more like you were moaning right into his mouth, sharing each of his breaths until you felt dizzy. Eren melted you from the inside out, softening you up like butter until you were flush against him—as easy as that. You started rocking your hips cautiously. 

“That’s it,” Eren murmured into the corner of your mouth.

With gelatin-like arms, you held yourself up with palms pressed against his chest. Perched only slightly proudly atop him, the tip of his cock hit deeper than anything else had before. The sensation had stolen your breath, and you almost swore you could feel him in your throat. 

Eren admired the adorable ‘o’ your mouth made as you began moving more. As though a switch had flipped, you were suddenly rolling your hips against him—slowly, of course—repeatedly having him hit that delicious spot, greedily chasing after your third orgasm. 

“You’re doing so good, taking me well for—for your first time.”

Shit. Eren nearly forgot he was taking your virginity. 

He hoped you didn’t notice how his voice gave way there at the end, or how his cock jolted when he realized he was the first to have you like this. He was the first to fill you, stretch you, mold you to accommodate him. Only him. 

“Do what feels good for you, baby.”

The pet name escaped him before he could wrangle himself back, but you didn’t seem to catch it—or if you had, at least you didn’t mind. 

No, you were too busy to hear him, more occupied with using his cock to get a feel for what you liked best. And Eren let you, because what else was he supposed to do? Stop you? Fuck, no. He would let you continue forever if you desired it. So long as you continued gifting him with such lovely expressions. The sweet curl of your lip, the knitting of your determined brows as your thighs had surely started burning by now. 

But, man, it was a challenge to stay there and let you have your way with him. You could only keep your pace for a moment or two before needing a break—teasing him, and you didn’t even know it. Though he had to admit, it was endearing to see you all tuckered out from everything that came before this. All Eren wanted to do was dig his heels into your bed, pound away at that tight pussy of yours, and show you just how wonderful he could make you feel.

It was a true test of strength for him, whether he could hold back, because you finally looked like you were enjoying yourself on his cock. You took him with short strokes, a simple tilt of your hips back and forth, once you realized you could grind your clit against his pelvis. 

Eren could tell you were close, from the way you fluttered around him to the moans getting caught in your throat. 

“Just like that. Keep going. Make yourself come for me.”

There was a growl in his voice; just the sound of it pushed you closer to the edge. You shoved a hand between your legs and tossed your head back. As you started to cry out, Eren placed a sticky palm against your mouth. He shushed dotingly, wearing a grin as he cooed, “Can’t let them hear us now, can we?” 

He felt your heady breath as you panted, trying to reach your peak. Once you were entirely spent, hips sputtering, he couldn’t help but beam up at you. Slack-jawed smile and all, he asked,  “Need some help?”

Too overwhelmed, you couldn’t even nod your head. You babbled a bit uselessly.

“Want me to fuck you, just a little? Get you coming on my cock?” 

“Yes, please,” you breathed. When Eren started moving, thrusting into you ever so slightly, you already scratched your nails down his chest. It was no bother to him, though. He only wanted you to do it again. “Oh, god, Eren.”

When you came, you squeezed him so perfectly that he actually thought he might explode. It took his last bit of self-control to fuck you at such a steady and slow pace when, in reality, he wanted to hammer into you. 

Eren felt he was moments away from boiling over. His face burned; he could feel the sweat beading at his hairline from this aching, pent-up desire within him. After fingering you, going down on you—after days spent fantasizing about you, he needed release. 

Even you could see it: the unmistakable flush of his face, now spreading to the base of his neck and spanning his chest. As blissed out as you were, limply collapsed on top of him, you mumbled against his skin, “Eren, I want you to come, too.”

And how could he turn that down? Now that you had come three times, he figured he could finally have his turn. 

“I’m gonna go a bit faster now. You tell me if that’s okay or not.”

Before he could even flinch, you assured him, “It’s okay. I want you to.”

The soft laziness of your voice, the dreaminess seeping through like syrup—it was too much.

Eren took you by the hips first, holding your body pliant for him to thrust into. He started with long drags of his cock, letting the tip kiss your entrance before stuffing himself back inside. Each time he bottomed out, he bit back a vulgar curse he wished he could hiss into your ear. 

Then, his hands flattened against your back, folding you to him with palms seared into your shoulder blades. Tucked into the crook of his neck, heat smothered your face as he fucked up into you. The bed began to squeak, like a mockery of your tiny bleats.

“You all right?” Eren asked, his voice tight. 

You only made an affirmative sound, muffled as you burrowed into him. With your chest warm, like a tingle between your lungs, and your head stuck somewhere in space, you took him in a speechless, almost surreal bliss. How fiercely he needed you, if only for a blip in time, was intoxicating. 

And in that fleeting moment, the forbiddenness, the sin of it all, had vanished. Eren was sure the feeling would rear itself again, the guilt that would later course through him once he inevitably faced what he’d done. But even if it meant betraying one of his best friends, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret a second of it. 

Especially when he realized how fucking good it felt to come inside you. With his arms ironclad around your waist, your entire front smushed against his, he snapped his hips into you. He emptied himself into the condom as a groan tore through his throat, the hum of it vibrating against the shell of your ear and down your spine.

He pulled out of you, faintly cursing as he went. You fell to his side, exhausted, and stared at the ceiling with fuzzy, unfocused vision. The rush of adrenaline was on a steep comedown, and you were already starting to feel it. Sore, but extremely satisfied. 

“You should probably go to the bathroom—to pee and stuff,” Eren said, with that familiar, boyish side already returning in full force.

Pee. Got it.

You only muttered a ‘yeah’ before redressing and tiptoeing off to the bathroom. There, you wiped yourself clean, forced yourself to pee, and gave yourself a good long look in the mirror. 

In a single night, you managed to hit every base. By definition, a home run—and with your brother’s cute friend, at that.

When you returned to your bedroom, you were shocked to find Eren still there. He had one foot in his sweatpants when you opened the door. He gave you a soft smile as you hopped into your bed. 

Then, even more surprisingly, he asked, “Do you want me to stay?”

Eren knew it was dumb to ask. He should leave and go back to the basement immediately unless he wanted to get caught. Still, it felt like the right thing to say.

You giggled. “I think my brother would kill you if he found you in here.”

He laughed along with you, but when it settled, he crawled beneath your sheets anyway.

Though you felt uncertain, he consoled it away with, “Don’t worry. I’ll just hang here ‘til you fall asleep.” You at least deserved that.

Eren turned off the light and let you rest your head against his chest, your arm looped around his waist. You didn’t know where the urge to cuddle came from, and neither did he, but he didn’t question it. It was comfortable, even as he waited for that pang of guilt to smack him across the face.

But it never did. And once he heard your breathing taper into a peaceful drone, he slipped out of your bed and snuck back downstairs. That stupid air mattress felt a lot more comfortable now with that weight off his shoulders. 

Finally, Eren had scratched the itch he couldn’t kick. He just needed to get it out of his system. There was absolutely no way he’d think of you again—not your kittenish little smile, not how you curled against him in your sleep—especially while you were three hours away at school…

Right?

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. 

There was an uptick in your voice, just at the end, like you had something specific in mind and had for a while—maybe even waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. 

Eren hesitated only long enough for him to notice. “Yeah?” 

You perched upright, and that smile on your face began to grow. Some might call the look wicked, but more than anything, it was coy. Like you were embarrassed and couldn’t possibly believe you found yourself in a situation where you had to ask him, “Would you mind helping me out and putting sunscreen on my back?” You reached for the bottle on the ground. “I can’t exactly reach it myself.” 

There was a split second Eren spent questioning if he’d heard you right. But there wasn’t much room for misinterpretation, was there?

He agreed by walking over rather than risk choking out the words around the lump in his throat. 

You handed Eren the bottle of sunscreen, but instead of merely giving him your back, you flipped to your belly. Hands folded in front of you, you propped yourself up to toss a glance over your shoulder. 

“I usually like to tan my back topless,” you said (way too casually, in Eren’s opinion). “Do you mind untying it for me?” 

He remained feet away, still, with the unopened bottle in hand. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, in part to ease his obvious tension. 

“How long have we known each other again?” you teased. “Mikasa does it for me all the time. What’s the difference?”

There’s a big difference, Eren thought. A huge one, actually, being that Mikasa hadn’t thought about what your naked body might look like for however many years you’d been coming over. For fuck’s sake, you were the first crush Eren remembered having. Of course it was different!

But he couldn’t say any of that. He opted to do as asked, coolly and quietly, absolutely not making a fuss of it, and sat on the very edge of your chair. Only afterwards, once he hid away inside, would he undoubtedly reel over the whole ordeal. 

Your bikini top was strapless. Once he delicately untied the knot in the back, the fabric wilted to your sides and exposed the expanse of your back to him, skin glistening ever so in the sunlight. 

From there, Eren stalled. His mind went utterly blank. He started searching for the sunscreen before remembering you’d already placed the bottle in his hand. You didn’t seem to notice, though, seemingly unbothered as you kicked your feet waiting on him, with all the time in the world. 

He squirted some lotion into his hand and tepidly patted your shoulder. He made a sort of smearing motion, his palm just barely dusting along your shoulder blades.

“You’re going to make my tan streaky,” you jokingly complained. “You can touch me a little, you know? I don’t bruise that easily.”

Eren jumped as you swatted your arm behind your back, seeking him out. You took him by his wrist and gave an encouraging—and surprisingly strong—tug. If that wasn’t enough, you all but yanked him on top of you, leaving him no choice but to straddle your hips to prevent a leg or knee from crashing down on you. 

If Eren thought he couldn’t breathe easy before, then he was suffocating now. He held himself on his knees, not daring to rest any of his weight on you unless he wanted to get a hard-on right then and there. 

But that part was kind of inevitable at this point, wasn’t it? 

Eren tried his best to ignore it. He gently massaged the slathering of sunscreen until it began soaking into your skin. Even before the lotion, you felt soft underneath the flat of his hand. Warm, too. Intoxicatingly so. 

As his hands smoothed down toward the middle of your back, his touch, once irresolute, sturdied. His thumbs pressed into the dip in your lower back, and he guessed you must be sensitive there because, intentionally or not, your back arched. Your ass pressed against him, and it was no secret how humiliatingly hard he was just by this harmless, simple favor. 

Before Eren could react—even think to adjust himself or get off of you entirely—you giggled. Giggled. Not outrightly laughing at him, per se, but something cuter, more mischievous. It made his entire face prickle hotly. 

You backed into him again. It was intentional this time; there was no doubting that. You even gave a little wiggle. Kittenishly, you asked him, “You want me to help you out with that?” 

Eren swallowed hard enough that he wondered if you heard him. Completely frozen, hands still placed against your back, he tried to sort out if this was a vivid afternoon-nap dream, or if this was actually happening right now. You kept on rubbing against the tent in his shorts, and it only made his cock ache for more. He wasn’t thinking when his grasp on you firmed, holding you there for him as he rut against your ass. 

But it still wasn’t nearly enough. Eren’s shorts felt painfully restraining; there were too many layers left between you. 

He stopped for a breath, thanked god for the privacy fence, and shoved his shorts down just enough for him to slip out. He held his cock in one hand and pulled your bottoms nice and tight with his other, then laid himself between your cheeks before humping like some horned-up dog—which, really, he was no better than. 

You looked over your shoulder. Bottom lip bitten through a devilish smile, you extended a hand back to lift your bottoms for Eren to slide underneath. The tight bikini snapped down but elicited no more than, “Fuck,” from him, something of a hiss yet something of pleasure. 

The tight fabric kept his cock snug between your ass, every thrust punctuated by the tip poking through the pretty blue bikini, leaving behind a stain the longer he went. 

“C’mon, Eren. Let me feel it,” you whined. “You’re not going to make me beg for it, are you?” 

He didn’t know that was what you wanted. Truth be told, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. His brain had short-circuited long ago, and he was more than content with where he’d found himself, already groaning as if he might actually come from this alone.

But there was no way he would ever pass up on the opportunity to fuck you. He still couldn’t help but think he might be dreaming. 

Eren licked his hand, pumped himself a few times, and tucked your bottoms to the side. He spread you a little, just enough for him to push his cock inside you. You took him easily, already soaked wet in anticipation, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. 

Thighs sealed together, your ass bounced with every smack of his hips. Eren watched his cock bury into you, disappearing into the plush of your skin, over and over again. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. He ended up taking the hem of his t-shirt between his teeth, just to enjoy the view more. 

Your fingers wrapped around the top edge of the chair. You twitched some, clenching your thighs impossibly close, then moaned into your hand. Eren stalled as he fought to stuff himself inside you fully. You weren’t making it easy on him, but he was determined to feel every bit of you, feel you stretch and squeeze around the base of his cock. His arms wavered beneath his weight—weight which you handled well as he white-knuckled your sides. 

So tight, so soft. He was a goner before he even started. 

“Shit,” Eren groaned through his teeth. 

He pulled out, and before he could even touch himself, he spilled across your back. The low muscles of his abdominals began tensing, his cock throbbing in his hand as he pumped out his cum until it dribbled onto your stretched bikini bottoms. 

Eren loosened a hand through his hair, pushing back the beads of sweat that had formed at his hairline. He worked twice as hard to catch his thoughts as to catch his breath. Clarity had hit him like a ton of bricks, and he probably needed to grab you a towel right about now. 

“I, uh,” Eren started, his voice feeling extra thick in his throat. 

You interrupted whatever jumble of words he was going to say with a contented sigh. You pushed yourself upright and faced him, bare chest and all. He gawked for a second too long before meeting your eye, but it was too late; you already had this proud grin across your face. 

“I should probably take a dip in the pool.” You stood up, but your bottoms came right down. You kicked them off your ankle, offering Eren a hand and a nonchalant, “Want to join me?” 

He sat there, still dazed and disheveled, with his pants partly down. He was still hard, too, after seeing your pretty tits and that up-to-no-good look you had on your face. But it didn’t seem like that would be a problem, because he had a feeling you weren’t through with him yet. 

Eren took your hand, happily ready to go wherever you’d lead him. 

“Yeah. Okay.”

Eren didn’t sound all that convincing right then, but it was the truth, believe it or not. But even he could admit Falco had a point: summer camp was halfway over, and Eren remained too big of a coward to do anything about his. . . feelings for you. He didn’t know what to call them yet. Falco named it a crush, but that felt too childish to Eren, like he was back in grade school alongside the rest of them, rather than the college-age student he was.

If it wasn’t clear enough already, the duo were talking about you.

Eren never asked for Falco’s ‘advice’ about you. He hoped this went without saying, but he would never take the advice of a thirteen-year-old about this sort of thing. Falco approached him first, like Eren’s love life was such a train wreck that he could no longer sit idle on the sidelines. Apparently, Eren was just that terrible with girls. 

Which was so not true, by the way. Eren did just fine, he liked to think. It had just been a while.

“I could fake drown,” Falco offered as casually as he would ask about the weather. “You know, like when you’re on lifeguard duty. You’d be a hero.”

That just might—

“Please don’t do that,” Eren said before he could go against his better judgment. But that didn’t stop Falco from hamming it up. He draped a hand over his forehead like a damsel in distress, with smooching sounds and everything.

Optically, Eren knew it wasn’t the best idea to flick a camper on his forehead, but he did so anyway. Falco barked, “Ow!” before it melted into a burst of victorious laughter.

Eren carried his emptied (sans the gritty mashed potatoes) plate in one hand and pointed to Falco’s untouched dinner with his other. “Hurry it up, would ya? We’re supposed to head back to the cabin in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Falco grunted before poking around his plate.

To say Eren had a brotherly relationship with his campers would be a stretch, but Falco happened to be the exception—not by Eren’s choice, as he already established.

Falco was a returning camper from last year, meaning he (or perhaps just his parents) chose to dedicate four weeks out of his summer break to sleepaway camp, with Eren as his cabin leader again.

To Eren, the bigger surprise was that he even returned as counselor at Camp Stillwater in the first place. What he initially believed would be a blow-off gig to earn college credit actually turned out to be not so bad, considering he could spend the summer with his two best friends. Sure, Mikasa couldn’t be here this year, what with her change in program and new internship, but Armin made it. And let’s just say that after Eren discovered who filled Mikasa’s position, he forgot about her absence altogether.

It was quite the coveted position, too. For decades now, Camp Stillwater had an infamous reputation back at school for being—well, a fuck-fest. More like a fuck-off fest, if you asked Eren, since it was easy to get away with anything here.

This was only his second year here, but outside of various rumors and a handful of ‘incidents,’ Eren could confidently say the camp wasn’t nearly as horny as the stories made it sound. Then again, he didn’t get involved in those activities last year; he had a girlfriend at home. 

A now ex-girlfriend. 

No need for theatrics about it: the break-up was mutual, overdue, and old news. But if Eren still needed confirmation that he was over his ex, then you were just that.

For the first time since the break-up—maybe even before the break-up—Eren felt something again. Passion, a spark, a stupid crush. Call it what you wanted, but whatever it was, he felt it; this strange, enigmatic thing attracting him to you.

He loved it, this revived sense of infatuation that he hadn’t felt in so long, as much as he absolutely loathed it. 

Eren weaved between tables toward the dish return to find you there first. He recognized you from the back of your head alone—which wasn’t saying much since you were one of the handful of adults in the dining hall. He stalled, weighing his options, hating himself for letting Falco’s words creep under his skin. Why did he feel he had something to prove to a kid?

Before he decided what to do, you acted first, glancing over your shoulder and flickering a smile. You waited until he was another step closer before greeting, “Hi, Eren.”

Restless hands he would typically shove into his pockets busied themselves by reaching for your plate. “Let me get that for you,” Eren said, and those six measly words felt like the greatest challenge he faced all day. Even greater than the screaming girl he had to help down from the rock-climbing wall this morning. 

On your, “Thanks,” your lips parted into a warm smile, and any confidence Eren thought he had began floundering—much like that girl from earlier.

With that, the conversation died, and you went on with your evening.

To Eren, it was still a win. Albeit a small win, but still one for the books. He wanted to prove—not to anyone but himself, he’d decided—that the two of you talked sometimes. And he accomplished just that.

What the hell did Falco know, anyway?

*     *     *

“I saw you talking to Eren in the mess hall tonight,” Hitch said, both too knowingly and too loudly. She blathered on over the roar of her hair dryer. When you tried to tell her you couldn’t hear her, she only shouted, “Huh?”

You weren’t exactly friends, perhaps a smidgen past acquaintances, so you couldn’t predict if she’d see the humor in you unplugging her blow dryer.

Hitch was one of the four female camp counselors here—the others being Sasha, Annie, and yourself. She was the leader of your so-called ‘sister cabin,’ meaning you had the same activity schedules. For better or worse, you spent a lot of time together.

This also meant you couldn’t head back for lights out until she was ready—the buddy system and all that.

You sat patiently on the countertop beside her, watching your feet dangle, catching your shower shoes just before they could slip off your toes. Once that became boring, you began drawing on the mirror’s condensation with your fingers.

As she began wrapping the cord around the hair dryer to pack up, you explained, “I was just saying ‘hi.’”

There wasn’t anything more to it, nothing juicy like she’d hoped for. But juicy or not, you still quieted down when you heard padding feet round the corner shower, just in case. Only after Sasha poked her head out did you return to doodling on the mirror. You finished the last swoop of a smiley face as you said, “I don’t think that counts as talking.” 

Hitched shrugged, making way for Sasha to squeal, “Are you guys talking about Eren?”

Hitch stared the both of you down. In one breath, she confirmed Sasha’s hunch and tried (again) to pry the nonexistent details from you. “He cleared your plate for you. I think that counts as something.”

It unnerved you to know that she—no, she and Sasha had been watching so closely.

You folded your arms tightly against your chest as if to shut her out. “Are you always this nosy?”

She scoffed as Sasha blurted out, “He totally has a thing for you!”

You stiffened. You wished you didn’t, but it happened, and it was so palpable that both girls now eyed you like a pack of hyenas, eager for their next kill. You didn’t know what to say, only that you needed to shut it down.

“He’s just being nice,” you said. But on the inside, you were reeling.

There was no denying that you found Eren attractive. You’d thought so since the moment the camp director, Levi, introduced you to the bunch. He stood on the taller side, at least six feet, by your estimation. Lean but all muscle. With furiously green eyes nestled beneath dark brows, both often hidden behind grown-out hair he constantly pushed back, unless he’d tied it up. 

You’d never considered it seriously before, but to think he might have ‘a thing’ for you, as Sasha put it—let’s just say it changed your perspective on the matter. 

Sasha groaned like you’d caused her physical pain. “Puh-lease tell me you aren’t that stupid.”

“You should just hook up with him. I let Jean finger me behind a cabin last summer,” Hitch said, still as loud as ever. You must have had a visceral reaction—pulled a strange face or widened your eyes until she could see the whites—because she waved you off with, “S’no biggie.”

“She’s right,” Sasha agreed, leaning into you. Her brunette ponytail bounced along with her. “Or, who knows? Maybe you’ll end up like Annie and Armin.”

You didn’t know the pair very well—the least of the lot. They were the cute blonde couple that apparently met last summer and have been inseparable ever since. The only thing you knew for sure was that Armin was far, far more approachable than Annie. He held a native aquatic life program last week down by the lake that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“A little summer fling never hurt anyone,” Hitch sang.

You wanted to tell her she was wrong. They actually made an entire musical dedicated to the many woes of Summer Lovin’. But you ignored her and smeared away the fingerprints you’d left on the mirror. 

You had only known these girls for two weeks, and you had already concluded they were, for lack of a better term, boy crazy. Giggling, batting their lashes, face-sucking-and-fucking boy crazy.

But that didn’t mean you minded it. 

Maybe you would even go as far as to say their insistent lusting managed to stir your own. You were only human, after all. You could only listen to their stories for so long before dreaming up fantasies of your own. Some of which may or may not involve getting railed while away at summer camp. 

You’d keep that bit to yourself, of course. But the thoughts—the feelings, the urges, all brewing hot in your core—were hard to suppress. You’d become increasingly aware of them as the days trickled by, with Hitch’s tune stuck on a loop in the forefront of your mind. A little summer fling never hurt anyone, as fresh as the night she said it, on repeat until it practically drove you up a pine tree. 

So while the others might have thought it odd for you to volunteer to pair with Eren’s cabin for the morning hike, to you, it felt like a necessary first step. You just wished Sasha and Hitch hadn’t made the connection, gawking at you with grins too large for your liking.

The purpose of today’s hike was for the campers to test their knowledge of the ancient practice known as navigating via compass and map. The first group to follow directions correctly would find hidden treasure—though no one had informed you of what the ‘treasure’ was, so you were as curious as the rest. 

All that was to say, your only job was ensuring no one gravely injured themselves between now and the intercom call for lunch. Easy enough.

You walked slowly, purposefully dragging your heels in the dirt, and just like you hoped, Eren hung back with you. You stayed quiet, watching and waiting from a few steps behind until there was enough distance between you and the rest of the group. You couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than a bunch of middle schoolers overhearing this—your awful, shameless attempt at flirting. Even worse if it ended in a rejection. 

Eren rolled his shoulders in a stretch, and you unabashedly stared at the way the sunrise cast shadows against the flexed veins of his arms.

A small but nagging part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was too early for this conversation. The birds were chirping, there was still pretty morning dew on the grass, and you were about to ask if this man wanted to fuck you later. There was no way in hell you could go through with this. 

Then you remembered Jean fingered Hitch behind a cabin, and you supposed you just had to take advantage of the opportunities as they arose. 

“Hey, Eren!” you called. 

He stopped, turned, and greeted you with a lop-sided smile. You picked up your pace and Eren fell right into stride.

The path you walked was unkempt, just as nature intended. You mazed through patches of weeds and overgrown roots, around loose stones so you didn’t twist an ankle. Though thinking about it now, it might not be the worst idea. Eren was the only one around to help you. . . 

“I hope you don’t mind being paired up with me,” you said.

“No, not at all,” Eren assured, but it more closely resembled an apology, like he was trying to recall if he’d done something to suggest otherwise. "You surprised me, though. That's for sure."

“Really? How come?” you asked, no longer looking at him sidelong but with eyes boring straight into his. At least, that was what it felt like to Eren. And when you coupled it with your adorable head tilt, he quickly fell apart. 

He jerked his attention down to the path, laser-focusing on one rock in particular, kicking it along with him. “I guess I figured you’d go with Hitch or Sasha.”

“As much as I like them, I’d prefer not to get myself lost in the woods today.” 

Off in the distance (southeast, according to your compass), a shriek echoed through the trees. Your ears perked, but the howls of laughter that followed eased any worry. You began walking together again, picking right up from where you left off. 

“I thought I might actually try to learn something from this trip,” you half-truthed, like reading a compass was the hardest task in the world, and you hadn’t just done it. 

Here’s the thing: you wanted to have a takeaway from summer camp—to learn from him, in a more roundabout sense of the word. You just preferred a more private lesson.

Not so incidentally, you brushed your hand against the back of Eren’s as you hummed, “And you seem like the kind of guy who knows what he’s doing.”

Your voice tried for light and bubbly and succeeded, but the insinuation was a heavy-handed smack to Eren’s face. Were you flirting with him?

He didn’t have the time to answer his own question before you added, “Like, about the forest and stuff. You worked here last summer, right?”

What was he thinking? Of course you weren’t flirting with him.

The whole situation gave him pause. He collected himself to reply only for a soft mhm to come out. Nothing about it was light or bubbly. 

You nodded despite there being nothing to agree on. For a moment, you let the silence between you fizzle. It wasn’t awkward, though; it was thoughtful. Intentional. With each passing second, anticipation wound itself into a tight coil, ready and rearing and hot to spring. And this time, when you bumped your hand against Eren’s, it acted much like a match to sandpaper, trying to draw a spark. 

“You know,” you drawled, “I’d love to hear more about it sometime—get to know each other more.” 

So you were flirting. Eren didn’t have any doubt about it now, even as he struggled to keep up. He felt like he’d been strapped to the world’s worst carnival ride, spun round and round until his head was so dizzy he couldn’t form even the simplest of sentences. Sure. Okay. Sounds good. Even a fucking thumbs up. Everything evaded him.

Luckily for Eren, you did just fine at carrying on the conversation (if this could even be classified as one) on your own. 

“Sasha’s hosting her archery program this afternoon.” There was an unspoken allure to your voice. It made Eren burn from the inside out. “That gives us a free hour after lunch, if you want to hang out in my cabin.”

He hoped to god there wasn’t a flush to his cheeks. 

“Unless you’re busy. . .”

“No, no,” Eren rushed to say. He cleared his throat. “I mean, no, I’m not busy. And yes, I can be there. If that’s what you want.”

You smiled. “If that wasn’t what I wanted, then I wouldn’t have asked, silly.”

Before Eren could think of what to say back, a camper dashed out of the thicket of trees and straight to you, screaming about boys putting cicada shells in her hair.

It was probably best that he couldn’t get a word in, Eren thought, because he had the feeling it wouldn’t have been particularly witty or clever. So he just watched as you hurried to the girl’s aid, left completely baffled by what the hell just happened.

*     *     *

You heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Right on time. Five minutes past the hour, after the campers had already started their trek to archery. Your body responded before your heart could catch up, leaving you light-headed after you sprung for the door.

Blame it on the lack of blood reaching your brain, but you clearly weren’t thinking when you swung the door open. Eren hadn’t knocked yet. He was just about to, with his hand hung frozen mid-air, and it reminded you how you hadn’t given him the chance.

You laughed a little, said, “Hey,” at the same time Eren did, then could only laugh more because what else were you supposed to do?

The door shut behind him, and the heavy sound reverberated through the cabin. The air was taut, practically buzzing with what you could only describe as electricity. Every ba-dum of your racing heart pounded higher in your chest until you could feel it in your ears.

Eren ran a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head. His gaze shifted around the cabin tentatively, from the girlish bunks decorated in plushies to the curtains you'd pulled shut minutes ago. Then, finally, his eyes landed on you. 

His lips pulled into a sheepish smile as he asked, “You didn’t ask me to come because you were actually hoping to hear about my time last year, did you?” 

Your laugh was authentic this time. The kind that surprised even you. It tugged at the tension, unraveling the knot you’d let form in your stomach while waiting on Eren.

You’d wondered which option was the most anxiety-inducing: if he did or didn’t show up. But now, standing here on knees that felt more wobbly than you preferred, as he looked at you with a smile your laughter brought about, you were so relieved he was here. 

“As riveting as I’m sure your experience was. . .” You moved toward him, through the air that didn’t feel quite as thick anymore. “No, I wasn’t actually hoping to hear about your time at camp last year.”

While you spoke, you traced up his palm, the inside of his wrists. Along the length of his arm until you could flatten it against his chest, watching how his throat pulsed in response. 

You couldn't think of a time you fooled around in a bunk bed before. A twin bed, plenty of times, but never with another looming inches above your head. This had to be a first, you thought, as you led him to your bed. Eren sat first, drew you into him, and you had to duck before straddling his lap. 

Already, you felt a tingle. It ignited in the lowest part of you and radiated from the tips of your fingers down to your toes. Every fiber of your being had been set ablaze, and he’d hardly touched you yet; he hadn’t even kissed you. 

Right then, you realized how much you’d been thinking about him—like really thinking about him. That the hazy, featureless man you’d imagined fucking against a slippery shower wall had a face, and maybe he had all along. You knew you’d been craving this, but you had no idea as to how desperately your body needed him.

You truly were no better than those other boy crazy girls, were you?

Despite your positioning—his hands on your waist, yours on his shoulders, with your crotch hovering just above his—you kept your mouths apart. You touched everywhere except there, where it counted, with mere centimeters separating you. You watched his eyes scan over your face, studying an expression you couldn’t begin to guess, and it sent a blooming heat through the back of your neck. 

The two of you stayed like that for longer than you should have for only having an hour, even less, to yourselves. Each of you, waiting for the other person to make the first move. Sharing shallow breaths under the crushing weight of wanting, yet fearing you were the one who interpreted this whole situation wrong. As if both of you didn’t very clearly meet here with just one thing on your minds. 

“You’ve—” Eren’s voice sounded lost in his throat. He wrangled it back before continuing, “You’ve done this before, yeah?” 

You didn’t know what this referred to specifically, but you could infer. 

“Yeah,” you replied, tipping your mouth to his. Closer, but still shy of touching. 

Just your one-word answer eased some of Eren’s hesitancy. Sure, he came to Camp Stillwater knowing what happened behind locked doors, even (regretfully) witnessed some of the stories you’d probably heard, but this felt fast. If someone were to ask him how he wound up here with you, like this, he wouldn’t be able to explain it. 

Not that he was complaining. But he needed to know that you knew what you were getting yourself into. 

You sensed he was waiting on you. For you to give the go-ahead. The green light for him to continue his exploring. You didn’t think he’d make the first move without it. 

Your fingers absently toyed with the collar of his t-shirt while you told him, “I want you to kiss me.”

Eren felt each word as they broke over his lips. He could have sworn he tasted them, too. Sweet and warm, with the faintest chill of mint. He safely assumed you must have come straight from lunch to brush your teeth, anticipating him.

The thought alone, shamefully, did something to him. Because here you were, plopped into his lap, looking so pretty that he was already hard, asking for the very thing he’d been fantasizing about over the last two weeks.

Okay, maybe Eren had fantasized about more—a lot more. But right now, you were goddamn perfect. He could only think about how lucky he felt for this. Just this. Even if it never became anything more than this.

The feeling swelled in his chest the longer you looked at him, biting your lip, waiting. But even after you’d been plenty patient, Eren didn’t kiss you. He didn’t even try to. He just looked and looked at you, while you puzzled over what he could possibly be thinking about. You noticed a glint in his irises, as quick as a flash of lightning. There and gone, almost like you’d imagined it if not for the smirk hinting at one corner of his mouth. 

“If you want something.” Eren leaned back. His palms pressed into the mattress behind him, and the springs trilled under the shift in weight. He sat back enough for him to uncomfortably fit below the top bunk. “You should take it.”

Your stomach flip-flopped. The same feeling you get on a rollercoaster, but better. You took his challenge and chased after him. He guided you in with a hand on your back, swirling small encouraging circles against the dip in it.

Eren didn’t mind sitting passenger to you. In fact, he preferred it. He was happy to give into you, let you drive, so long as you brought him along for the ride—wherever it took him.

You perched higher onto your knees, moving with him like there was a string connecting you, with a sort of magnetism, until you were face-to-face, then lips-to-lips. 

A blink-and-you-miss-it pause passed as you learned the feeling of his lips against yours. They were soft; he was soft. As you sank your lips into his, his hand on your side tightened, giving you a squeeze that sent a surge of electricity up your thighs.

He matched you every step of the way, only deepening the kiss after you initiated. Not letting his tongue slip into your mouth until you’d coaxed it out of him with your own. The kiss was slow but deliberate. Attentive, yet you could feel his eagerness in the slight tremble to his fingers, pushing beneath your shirt and trailing along your spine. 

You returned to his lap, settling in to feel him hard beneath you, pressing between your legs. As you ground down onto him, a loan groan bubbled from his throat.

Eren felt his cock twitch in need, straining behind layers of boxer briefs and cargo shorts. It was a true test of willpower for him, but what little composure he pretended to have slipped through his fingers. His hips lifted from the bed, bucking to meet yours as you rocked back and forth. 

The kiss became more desperate then. Much more desperate. With his hands flattened against your back, keeping your bodies melded together, and your fingers tangled and twisted in his hair. You felt every groove and point of his teeth as he drew your bottom lip between them. It pulled a gasp from you that rang in his ears like a reward. He tried to encourage another, stealing a nip at your swollen lip. 

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, nails scratching at the cheap camp logo printed on the front. You wanted it off. You tugged at the fabric until he got the hint. He yanked it over his head in one quick movement before bringing his lips back to you.

Eren’s mouth dragged hot breath from your jaw to your ear. His voice was husky, almost a whisper, when he asked you, “This okay?”

He punctuated with a warm hand slipping around your front, exceedingly close to the underwire of your bra. On your nod, he ventured higher, with his thumb scraping against the cup, bending it back. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, rolling your nipple between his fingers until you whined against his ear. 

Eren took you by the shoulders, putting an arm’s length between you so he could remove your shirt. You felt more like a rag-doll than human, flopped around with your head lagging on a second’s delay. You blinked the spins away, outstretching your arms so he could toss your shirt over your head and into the accumulating pile on the floor. 

Your gaze dropped to Eren’s face, cupped between your hands, cheeks warm and alive beneath your palms. You both breathed hard, uneven breaths, chests heaving like you’d just finished a marathon—his sporting a telling flush that matched the one spanning the bridge of his nose and complementing his eyes. 

You gently traced your finger over his lips, still wetted from your kiss, and you felt the moment they pulled into a smile, replicating the one spreading across your face. All you could think about—all you wanted to do was kiss him again. 

You folded over top of him, doing exactly as you wanted, kissing him wherever you pleased. You could smell the summer on his skin, taste it as you kissed and licked and sucked your way from the tip of his jaw down his chest. You were conscious about not leaving marks, or at least you thought you were. Faint hickeys bloomed every time you just couldn’t help yourself, when you would discover a spot—one behind his ear, another in the dip of his collarbone—that made his breath stutter heavily in his throat.

The hand he had on your ass gripped harder, bearing you down on him. You slithered a hand between you, smoothing over his tight stomach, and reached to undo the button of his shorts, then the zipper next. 

You laid against his chest, still kissing at his neck as you palmed his cock through his boxers. Eren groaned, low and breathless, as you felt him throb against your hand. When he released his grip on you, you expected him to tear his shorts off entirely. But he had you flipped onto your back instead, so quickly that you yelped as your back hit the mattress. 

Eren leaned over you, a lazy grin painted on his face, as he slipped your shorts down your legs. He ran a hand through his hair, catching the strays that fell into his face so he could get a better view of you. He kept your panties on and in place, dipping a daring finger below the band and running it along your belly. It tickled. Your hips wiggled in response, and his grin only grew. 

He thumbed over the damp spot on your underwear, feeling your clit just beneath the fabric. Just a tad more pressure elicited a moan from you, and your head lurched from the bed. You sat back on your forearms, watching him rub away the tension that had amassed between you, alleviating the aching of your insides and melting it into headless pleasure. 

You darted a hand to touch him too, asking, “Did you bring a condom?” 

“Shit.” Eren’s head dropped, hair falling back into its rightfully messy place. “No.”

He had a million other things on his mind. Of course, he’d forget the condom.

Now that you mentioned it, he didn’t even bring condoms to camp. But he was sure Jean or Connie had some. Eren would worry about how to ask for them later, but for now, he promised, “I can get one for next time.”

You angled your head in that cute way you often did. “Next time?” 

Eren’s face paled. Out of the goodness of your heart, you only let him stammer for a second before cutting him off with a laugh. “Next time sounds good.” Relief washed over him in an instant, his thumb resuming its circling. You sighed, nestling into the sheets. “I guess this is pretty nice.”

He gave you that lop-sided smile again, and it made your heart somersault. He tipped his chin closer into you. “Yeah?” 

Eren’s lips had barely brushed yours when there was a knock at the door. The loud sound of a persistent little fist. With a startle, you sprang away from him and slammed your head on the top bunk. 

“Fuck!” you cursed way too loudly. 

At the thunk alone, Eren winced like he’d done it himself and reached for you. “Are you—”

“Yeah,” you hissed in pain. You swatted his hand, then immediately regretted it. “Sorry. I’m just—I’m fine.” 

He didn’t believe you, but couldn’t do anything about it because there was another set of knocks. Whoever was on the other side called your name, asking, “Are you in there? Why is the door locked?” 

Muttering a chant of curses—shit, shit, shit!—you clumsily pulled your shorts back up, nearly tumbling off the bed as you went. Ignoring the pounding in the crown of your head, you scrambled to put on your shirt as you called out, “Just a second!”

You mouthed, “Hide!” to Eren and waved for him to duck under the blankets. It didn’t solve much, he was still very much there, but it was better than nothing.

You skittered to the door, unfastened the rusted lock, and opened it just wide enough for you to squeeze through the gap. Gabi stood before you, hands on her hips, as you shut the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I was changing,” you said. Your voice sounded far gone, and you tried your best to find it before asking, “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Sasha?” 

“Zofia didn’t believe that I have this scrunchie in every color. I needed to prove her wrong,” she said matter-of-factly. She held out the scrunchie as evidence before shoving it back into her pocket. 

You exhaled, hard. “That’s no reason to go wandering off by yourself. You’re bunkmates—show them to her later.” You set your hands on her shoulders and spun her around. “Here, let me walk you back to archery.”

“Fine,” she grumbly agreed.

You waited until she was just far enough to not notice when you poked back inside the cabin. You scooped your shoes in one hand and whisper-shouted, “Sorry!”

“It’s—” Eren watched the door slam shut, “okay.” 

He sat there, alone. Blinking, disoriented, and unbelievably horny. Praying that there would still be a next time. When he could only assume the coast was clear, he got himself dressed and snuck out the back door. 

*     *     *

“So.” Falco paused, wholly absorbed in tying off the string bracelet he’d made. “Did you kiss her?”

Eren’s eyes widened. If he’d been drinking water, he would have probably even done a spit take. Again, how was this any of Falco’s business? 

A minute ago, Falco not-so-offhandedly mentioned he saw you and Eren hiking together the other day. Eren told him to mind his own bee’s wax and hoped that would be the end of it. He should have known that wouldn't stop the nosy punk.

He visibly prickled, thinking about that day, with you. 

Falco took it personally. “Sheesh, I was just asking.” He gave up on the bracelet, sighing defeatedly before handing it to Eren. “Can you tie this for me?” 

Eren plucked the bracelet from him in quiet agreement. He felt slightly guilty for giving a kid the silent treatment, even if it was deserved. As he fiddled with the tiny strings, he tried to think of how to phrase this in grade school terms. If kissing was all the way, then. . .

“We,” Eren mulled over his choice of words, “held hands.”

Falco laughed. He cackled! Snorting, “Seriously?” in a way that made Eren feel ashamed despite being the adult in the situation—which only made him feel worse. 

Eren flung the tied bracelet at Falco. “What do you know about girls, anyway? You’re, like, twelve.”

“Thirteen,” Falco corrected, though he was well-aware Eren knew his age. 

The two sat at a picnic table, the same one Eren had been seated at all afternoon, crafting bracelets because that was his post for the day. 

Let him repeat that: he had been making bracelets for the entire afternoon. So many that he thought his fingers would fall off by the time Falco asked for his help. Eren wanted to complain about it but couldn’t; there were definitely worse internships out there.

Falco rose from the table and sorted through the small pile of bracelets beside Eren—because he had been making them all afternoon. He picked his presumable favorite, with white and turquoise strings, and extended it to Eren. 

“Give her this,” he said. “I gave one to Gabi the other day, and she hasn’t taken it off since.”

Eren didn’t budge. “I’m not giving her a stupid string bracelet.” 

“‘Cause your plan,” Falco used air quotes around the word ‘plan,’ “is going so much better.”

Eren reminded himself who he was talking to and bit his tongue. “Fine, okay. I’ll give her the bracelet.”

It was a lie, but it was enough for Falco. He walked away with a satisfied grin. Just in time for the dinner bell to chime, and for Eren to finally escape the beating sun. 

The short walk to the dining hall was the first breather Eren had to himself in hours. He clung to it, slowing to a stroll as campers rushed by, calling one another out for races. He messed with the bracelet Falco handed him—one of the many Eren had made, but the only one he hadn’t left behind.

Eren wished things were as easy as Falco made them sound. As easy as giving you this bracelet and holding your hand—actually holding hands—and it meant the two of you were together. But you’d done much more than that, and somehow Eren felt more clueless than ever. He hadn’t even had a chance to talk to you since everything happened. 

That didn’t mean he’d stopped thinking about it, about you, almost to an insufferable degree. 

Take last night, for example: Eren lied awake in his bunk, restless, tortured by thoughts of you—though the camper with the nasty snoring habit didn’t make sleep come any easier.

The afternoon played in Eren’s mind on repeat like an old cassette tape he could rewind again and again. But the longer he listened, the more it started sounding like a bad, broken record. Agonizing over what he should or shouldn’t have done—if he came on too strong or, rather, if he didn’t try enough. Were his hands in the right places as he held you close? Did you like how he touched you—how he kissed you? 

Even thinking about it now, Eren could still feel your weight in his lap; the backs of your thighs pressing against the tops of his, letting the heat of your body spill into him like a flood. The softness of your mouth against his, and your hand working over his—

“Whatcha got there?”

He jumped when you appeared from his peripheral vision. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice and continued smiling at him as you asked, “Did you make that?”

Eren’s heart dropped into his stomach, maybe even deeper. There was no chance Falco’s plan would work. It would only result in him making a fool of himself in front of you, he was sure.

“No, um, Falco made it,” he lied in an attempt to hide his panic. “For you, actually.” 

Your eyes lit up as you took the bracelet from him and began inspecting it. “For me?” 

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I think he was too shy to give it to you.” 

A giggle escaped you when you replied, “Seems like someone has a crush. Cute.”

Your airy cadence almost convinced him otherwise, but Eren believed you spoke to him directly. Like this was no longer about Falco.

He felt trapped under your quicksand gaze, struggling to sense if you saw through his bumbling excuse of a lie, and he’d been found out. 

But even if he managed to come up with something to say, no matter how brilliant, he wouldn’t have been able to speak it. Standing there in the sun’s fading light, you’d taken his breath away. Washed in shades of vibrant pink, of pale Dreamsicle orange, you looked more like a painting than a person. 

Beautiful.

“Yeah,” Eren said under his breath, so quietly that even he wasn’t sure he meant to say it aloud. “A crush.”

“I hope you’re not jealous,” you teased. You returned the bracelet before extending your wrist to him. “Here. Tie it on for me.” 

As much as he never wanted to tie another bracelet in his life, he supposed once more wouldn’t kill him. Only for you, though.

The sensation of his fingertips ghosting your skin drummed up memories of the other day, and you imagined them skating along your spine. You retracted your hand just as Eren finished, hoping to hide the goosebumps he’d left behind.

“Levi’s hosting tonight’s event, right?” you asked, if not for conversation’s sake alone, then for confirmation he would be there tonight, in Cabin #9. 

Late after dinner, the campers would circle around the fire pit for s’mores and a scary story—a Camp Stillwater classic, as you learned. They did this every year, apparently. The only thing that made this year different was. . . 

“Yeah.” Eren paused on a small chuckle. “Did you see that ridiculous costume Hange brought?”

Hange was the activity director here at Camp Stillwater and the mastermind behind tonight’s plan to spice up this age-long tradition. When Hange explained the plan to jump out at the end of Levi’s story, Jean and Connie took bets on how many kids would pee themselves.

Honestly, you didn’t think Levi even knew about it, or else he probably would have locked Hange in a supply closet and burned the god-awful costume for good measure. You couldn’t wait to hear about it tomorrow. 

While that chaos ensued, the camp counselors would enjoy a night of their own, spent in Cabin #9. Unlike the other eight that had wildlife-themed names—like Badger or Mallard, or yours: Chickadee Cabin—this was just the spare cabin they used to house necessities like toilet paper and extra first aid kits. Where there were practically no risks for interruptions. 

“Unfortunately, I did, which means I will be actively avoiding the fire pit for the foreseeable future,” you said, joining in on Eren’s laugh. You rested your hand in the crook of his arm as if you'd done it a million times before, and the muscle flexed under your unexpected touch. “So, I guess that means I’ll be seeing you tonight?” 

It was the vocal equivalent of a wink, your question. You made it known you were very much anticipating seeing Eren tonight—thank god. And though he more than felt the same, he could only affirm it with a nod and a short, “Tonight.”

Eren watched you head into the dining hall but decided not to follow. Instead, he ducked away for a breather; he needed to walk around for a minute and cool off his thoughts. 

Cabin #9 looked like the rest except for the sheets missing from the beds. It also carried this vacant sort of smell that reminded you of a basement. But with the eight of you sitting around, you soon forgot the weird smell. Laughter replaced the emptiness, warmed and spirited by wine and a bottle of Scotch Jean had apparently been snitching from. 

It was easy to imagine how innocent rounds of cards quickly regressed into strip poker. But that game lasted even shorter, considering only a handful of you knew how to play. The final nail in the coffin was when Annie had to remove an article of clothing, and Connie weirdly suggested her socks, of all things. You swore she was about to sock him straight in the jaw before Armin stepped in (no pun intended).

The only rightful progression from there was to move onto seven minutes in heaven—because unlike strip poker, there was no way that could go wrong.

As the game goes, everyone would shove the chosen couple into the bathroom, where they had seven minutes to do as they pleased with one another. The remaining had to promise to keep themselves distracted, that they most definitely wouldn’t listen in on the action from the other side of that shabby door. 

While everyone argued and pointed fingers over who should have to go first, Sasha corralled you and Eren into the bathroom together and shut the door behind you, probably leaning with her back against it to keep you locked inside. 

Though these weren’t the circumstances you would have picked for this conversation, you were glad to have the next seven minutes alone to address the elephant looming in the supply bathroom. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Eren’s voice came out, telling you, “I’m sorry about the other day. For, you know, being weird and stuff.” 

You didn’t know why he was apologizing. For reasons out of his control—Gabi, the stars being out of alignment, or perhaps it was merely a case of the wrong place, wrong time—the afternoon was weird. But none of it was his fault. If anything, you expected to be the one apologizing for running out on him. 

With a shake of your head, you said, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I was weird and left without saying anything.” 

There was a beat of silence you spent fiddling with your hands while he kept his buried in his pockets. But even then, you couldn’t help but crack a giggle, just at the sheer absurdity of the situation you’d found—no, put yourselves in. 

“I’m just glad to see you made it back to your cabin all right,” you jested, one final blow to the tension between you. 

Eren swallowed down the saliva that’d grown thick in his throat and gave a soft laugh. You had this wonderful way about you, he was learning. This innate talent for rendering him breathless, wordless, thoughtless—every -less in the book. And yet, at the same time, just a wisp of your smile, a giggle, had him breathing easy again. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember the nights he’d spent agonizing over you, only how foolish he’d be to pass up this chance to be close to you again.

The space between you was tight enough for him to near you in only a step. He tilted his chin to smile down at you.

“Despite the painfully awkward boner I had tucked into my waistband,” he chuckled. “Yes, I made it back to my cabin all right.”

You snorted a laugh. “Oh, I’m so sorry to have abandoned you in such a state. However will I make it up to you?” 

“You don’t have to do anything, but. . .” That wasn’t to say he would mind a kiss. 

Eren’s voice trailed off as his fingers locked around your belt loops to pull you even closer. He bent, trailing his nose down the slope of yours. Your heart instantly fluttered. 

“We still don’t have any condoms,” you whispered against his mouth. Close, but still not touching. “Not like seven minutes is much time, anyway.”

Eren’s fingers toyed with your belt loops. Your hips moved with a slight swivel between his hands, but his eyes didn’t leave you once. They looked greener in the dark, somehow. “That’s okay. I actually wanted to—”

You interrupted him with a kiss, straight on his lips. Then it was the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and onto his neck, where you could feel his pulse point jump beneath the press of your mouth. 

—Talk to you about something. 

But this was okay, too. More than. 

You pushed a hand beneath his shirt and splayed it across his stomach. He felt your palm travel lower and lower, where he was already half-erect just from being this close to you and the promise of no interruptions (for approximately six minutes and some change). 

Your voice was a humid murmur, hot against his skin when you asked, “Want me to give you head?”

If Eren believed his brain was malfunctioning before, then this was a full-system meltdown. Like he had short-circuited and his boy brain took over. 

He nodded dumbly. “Yeah, sure.”

Your hand made quick work of his shorts, then snuck beneath his boxers to touch him for real this time. Your fingers glided along his length, so teasingly that you felt him jolt against your palm, before you took him into a gentle grasp. Your other hand stretched the neck of his shirt so you could kiss his collarbone, where you remembered he liked.

Eren let his eyes flit shut. He lost himself in your touches, the feeling of your soft fingers wrapping around him to jerk him off. He completely forgot the conversation he hoped to have with you tonight—the one about his feelings and what not.

Hell, he even forgot your promise of a blow job until he finally opened his eyes to see you staring up at him, with your neck stretched and chin resting on his chest. Eren blinked to steady his vision and watched as you sank to your knees, dragging his shorts down with you. 

You captured his gaze, holding onto it even as you fingered his waistband. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth in anticipation, tugging at his boxers so slowly that once they sat low enough on his waist, you’d created enough tension for his cock to spring out. It hung heavy before you, centimeters away from your lips, and saliva pooled on the back of your tongue. You lapped at him, properly spreading your spit over his length. A gruff sound left him, placated by your wet tongue, for now, but still in desperate need of more. 

Perching higher on your knees, you laid one hand against Eren’s thigh while the other aligned the head of his cock with your open mouth. Your lips stretched around the thick of him, wider as you pulled a breath in through your nose, preparing to take more of him. 

With every bob of your head, his cock reached deeper, nearing the opening to your throat. You sucked and swallowed around him until he was good and sensitive, the underside of his cock throbbing against your tongue, encouraging you to keep going. 

Your mouth on him felt like the closest thing to heaven he could imagine. Warm and wet and snug around him. Slick as you swirled your tongue in tandem with your hand. It squeezed and slipped, up and down, up and down, slathering your saliva down the base of his cock. 

Heat began emanating from the low part of his stomach, scattering throughout every part of him in frissons. And while you were the one on your knees in front of him, Eren felt he ought to be worshiping you. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Eren groaned, his breath hitching before picking up. “You’re good—really fucking good at that.” 

His voice, all low and growly, dripping with indulgence, made you aflutter. You hummed in acknowledgement, warming to his praise. He must have felt it, the subtle vibration in your throat, because his thigh flexed beneath your palm, and his hand quickly sought the top of your head for extra support. 

As the countdown ticked by, you knew someone could interrupt at any minute, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. In that moment, you attuned yourself to Eren and only him, with eyes dedicated to him as you sucked his cock, now for your mutual pleasure it seemed. 

You felt like butter, and he the hot knife, melting you into a puddle right at his feet. He would curse and tell you what a good job you were doing; pet the crown of your head or caress your cheek. He did everything you would never expect from a quick bathroom blow job—up until you had the entirety of him in your mouth, with the tip of your nose buried in the soft tuft of hair on his stomach. Then he had to stop to muffle himself with his forearm. 

You thought you might gag. Out of fear of anyone hearing you, you pulled yourself off him with a sputter and a shameful amount of drool. You wiped yourself dry(-ish) with the back of your wrist, then rushed to replace your mouth with strokes of your hand. When you glanced up at him, you found a certain softness in his eyes, hidden behind his lust-laden lids. 

As talented as you were with your mouth—and your hands and your tongue—Eren finally felt he could let out a much-needed exhale. Yes, he wanted to come. Of course, he wanted that. But what he needed was clarity, to pull himself together. Not to mention, the thought of figuring out where he should finish—or unexpectedly doing so—freaked him out. 

Eren swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Actually, wait. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” 

He hooked his arms beneath yours and helped you onto your feet. Noting the tremble to your legs, he held you by your shoulders, keeping you at a small distance if not for temptation alone.

Tonight on his walk to Cabin #9, Eren had vaguely planned what he wanted to say to you. But whatever he had scraped together was lost on him the moment you put his dick in your mouth. To try to remember any of it now would be useless. 

Between Eren’s ragged breaths, he began his ‘confession’ with, “I think about you a lot.” 

You angled your head. “Oh?” 

He realized how that sounded, especially when said in this position. “Wait, not like that. Well, sorta—but like, not in a weird way.” He felt like a goddamn idiot, with his pants quite literally around his ankles. “Ah, hold on a second.”

Eren yanked his shorts back up. “What I’m trying to say is—” He huffed in a fluster. “I’m trying to say that I—”

The door flung open. Both you and Eren stiffened under the shock of bright light. 

“Time’s up!” Connie shouted, grinning from ear to ear at the sight laid out before him. It wasn’t as X-rated as it could have been if he’d burst in just a minute earlier, but it was still pretty compromising, at least for Eren, standing there with his pants undone. And you didn’t even want to know how your hair looked. 

With one swing of his arm, Eren elbowed Connie out of the bathroom and slammed the door. Even with a door between you, you could hear everyone’s amusement as plain as day. Oohs and aahs and fits of giggles. Humiliation engulfed you like a cloak, leaving you unable to do anything but cover your steaming-hot face and laugh. 

Eren laughed, too. He couldn’t restrain it because, frankly, the only word that could describe this experience was laughable. You were zero for two in successful hook-ups, and it wasn’t looking like the odds were in your favor with your knack for interruptions, even if this time should have been expected. 

Eren caught your wrists, guiding them away from your face so he could see you and your breathless smile. As you collected yourself, Eren picked up the pieces from where he’d left off.

“What I was trying to say was—”

“Oh my god. Are you guys fucking in there?”

It wasn’t Connie this time, but Hitch. She busted in with her foot in the air like she’d kicked in the door. She grabbed you by the wrists, not nearly as gently as Eren had, and dragged you out of the bathroom. You looked back at Eren apologetically, ignoring Hitch’s complaints. 

“Other people want to play! Don’t make it gross in there for the rest of us,” she barked.

What was Eren trying to tell you? Your heart pounded at the thought—that, or you were still coming down from the thrill that was seven minutes in heaven. 

But when you turned to look for him, after Hitch had freed you from her clutches, he was no longer there. You spun around the room only to realize you wouldn’t get to know what Eren wanted to tell you. He was gone. 

*     *     *

As you predicted, Levi was pissed after the stunt Hange pulled at the bonfire. And it wasn’t just him. A single pair of pants were pissed as well, meaning Jean won his bet against Connie.

Gabi made sure to include every detail, recounting the night with tears in her eyes, choking on her laughter and breakfast sausage. You’d only known the girl for a handful of weeks—though it felt like a lifetime after spending countless hours cramped in the same cabin—but that was more than enough time for you to learn she was quick-witted. Extremely so. She’d mastered her craft by the age of thirteen, and no one was off limits, yourself included. It was no surprise she found last night’s events nothing short of hilarious.

In fact, you’d argue she was too perceptive, always asking the sort of questions you didn’t know how to answer. You couldn’t blame her, just like you couldn’t blame the rest of your campers for their healthy dose of curiosity when it came to college life. Even if it did occasionally toe the line into nosiness.

But out of the millions of questions they threw at you, the one that you expected the least came on the very last day of camp, asked by none other than Gabi herself. 

“Are you going to date Eren when you go back to school?” 

This was what you meant when you said she was curious. 

You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes bugged and searching for the source of the voice. Gabi leaned out the cabin window with this devious grin on her face, propped between her hands as she waited for your answer. Did she really need to shout it out the window?

You shuffled over, chuckling awkwardly as you asked, “What are you talking about?” 

Her eyes narrowed in interest, like you had fallen into her trap.

“Falco told me he has a crush on you,” Gabi said, deadpan. “And you have a crush on him, soooo. . .”

You put your hands on your hips. “Who said I have a crush on him?” 

Gabi pulled this you’ve gotta be kidding me face with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Whatever.”

She ducked back into the cabin as the realization hit you—when you finally caught the first part of what she said. 

“Wait!” you called after her. 

You sprinted around the cabin, meeting her as she emerged from the front door. She had her belongings in tow, dragging her suitcase along the gravel as you asked, “How does Falco know he has a crush on me?”

You hated how you allowed your interest, your urgency, to seep through. You hated even more how Gabi’s keen self detected it; the glint of satisfaction in her eyes was as clear as day. But that was all she gave you. She continued on toward the parent pickup lot, waving a hand high over her head but never looking back as she yelled, “See you next summer!” 

Was that what Eren wanted to tell you the other night? That had to be it. 

To think, he might have been trying to muster the courage to ask you out, and all the while, you were asking to suck him off. 

You should have seen this coming. After all, Sasha did say Eren had ‘a thing’ for you. But back then, she could have meant anything by it. She could have meant he just wanted to fuck and leave it at that, and you probably would have been okay with it—back then.

Now, you felt much differently about everything, about him. You glanced at your wrist, down at the bracelet Falco had made for you. Supposedly. You had no reason to doubt it before, but now, you had one big flashing-in-your-face reason. 

Just like that, as quick as a flip of a switch, you saw the bracelet in a new light. You looked at it and thought of Eren, the expression that crossed his face when he went to tie it on for you. Unreadable then, but thinking about it now, it made sense, didn’t it?

Before it was too late and Levi had locked up for the season, you hurried to the craft building to check for any leftover string. 

You couldn’t have known this, but on the far side of camp, Falco had a similar parting conversation with Eren. Unprompted, as always, and never when Eren wished—not that he ever wished to have these types of talks.

Falco was the last camper in Coyote Cabin after unpacking and repacking his suitcase three times, fighting to get it shut. 

“How is it you’re leaving with more than you brought?” Eren huffed as he wrestled with the stubborn zipper. “You’re supposed to lose things at camp. Haven’t you seen the lost and found?” 

Falco took the question literally and thought aloud. “Let’s see. I painted a t-shirt for myself. Then I painted another one for my mom. . .” Each bit and bob he’d scavenged over the month he ticked off on his fingers, contentedly sitting atop his suitcase to weigh it down. “By the way, your girlfriend has been acting super weird around me the last few days. Like she wants to pinch my cheeks—what’s with that?”

Ugh. As if you weren’t on his mind enough already.

With a final yank, Eren sealed the suitcase. He rose to his feet with a sigh. “She’s not my girlfriend. I thought you of all people would know that.” Eren extended a hand to Falco and helped him up, knowing the next thing he’d say was, “And I might have told her you have a crush on her.”

“Seriously?”Falco cried. “She’s old enough to be my mom!”

Eren clicked his tongue. “We’re not that old.”

“Well, you better do something before you are that old. At this rate, you’ll be a grandpa before she even knows you like her!”

Again, even if Eren didn’t like hearing it, Falco had a point. Time after time, he had perfect opportunities lined up to make his interest known. Plenty of them, practically handed to him on a silver platter. And what did he do? He blew them, each and every one.

Correction: He almost blew every chance. He still had tonight, before you would return to the reality of classes and part-time jobs that didn’t involve wiffle ball and craft time. 

The last car drove past the horizon and out of sight, officially signaling the end of summer camp—for everyone except the eight camp counselors remaining, the tents they’d brought from home, and the beer they’d kept stuffed under their bunks. Yes, everything had been locked tight, but earlier Sasha snagged some ice for drinks and whatever scraped-together leftovers she could manage, enough for one last feast around the fire. Outstretched before you was a wonderful and well-deserved, lazy evening, spent doing all the activities you wished you could have been doing for the last month.  

For you, that meant enjoying Stillwater Lake without the looming threat of having to rescue a kid from another vicious seaweed attack. Getting warm and drunk by nightfall, and rounding out your perfect day by sharing your sleeping bag with one person in particular. 

Connie stumbled upon a forgotten frisbee on the walk over. He tossed it high over your head, back and forth between Eren and Jean in the opening that gave way to the lake. You gathered along its edge, and it only took a few dipped toes and exclamations about the temperature (‘It’s like bathwater!’) before everyone had kicked off their shoes and socks to wade around in the water.

But that didn’t mean the day was all strolling and sniffing roses. While the water was as still as its namesake, your thoughts, your heart—you were anything but. Restless, if you had to name the feeling. Fueled off stolen glances along, each too long yet still longer than the last.

There was tension between you and Eren, the good kind. The hope for nothing to turn into something, and soon. It’d been there for weeks. The limited time you’d spent together only amplified the tension, dialing it up to a noticeable ten. And it wasn’t just Eren who couldn’t keep his eyes off you but everyone else, watching both you and Eren, the two idiots caught in the throes of it—whatever ‘it’ was.

You said that as though you were merely an innocent bystander, like everyone else had a severe case of the wandering eye but not you. If anything, you were the biggest offender. 

You knew you shouldn’t stare, but it was hard not to when all you could think about was Eren. Eren and the lake and how good he unfortunately looked while swimming in the lake. With eyes that matched the water, and shoulders that had baked all summer and turned brilliantly sun-kissed and freckled. 

He caught you, numerous times, but it wasn’t like you were trying to hide it. You wanted him to return your glances, and he always did. Welcoming each one and leaving you with more questions than you had the second before—what was he thinking?

So fucking pretty. 

Not exactly waxing poetic, if that was what you’d expected.

Yeah, he was lucky you couldn’t hear his thoughts. 

But thoughts would only have the two of you running in circles; they accomplished nothing. At some point, you’d need to actually act on them. You could only maybe later yourself so many times before there would be no ‘later.’ You had to accept the fact that there was no perfect time and the blatant staring and the way your palms started sweating whenever you thought about it for too long, like you were doing right now. 

When you finally approached Eren, it was after the sun looked like it had sunk into the lank. All day, it stayed hidden behind an overcast sky, until the very last moment, now, when the clouds decided to split. You had to squint to get a good look at him. 

“Hey.”

Your own voice surprised you. How embarrassing. You didn’t know why you were so nervous around him, like it had happened overnight—even faster than that. You thought you had control here, at least a semblance of it, but even that had dissolved. You stood before him on legs that felt nervy and numb, somehow at once, twiddling a bracelet between your hands that now felt incredibly silly.

“Hey,” Eren said back. His eyes shifted down to the bracelet, then back up to your face, and the corners of his mouth hitched into a smile. Well, there was no turning back now, was there?

“Hey—I mean,” you laughed a little, and it sounded painful. You loosened a breath before meeting his eyes. Cool like the turquoise string in the matching bracelet you had made him, yet there was a twinkle of warmth that you found intoxicating. “I was thinking, it’s not a real friendship bracelet if I don’t have anyone to match with.”

Eren’s closed-mouth smile grew to a real one, and so grew your confidence. Enough for you to add, “And I couldn’t catch Falco before he left, so I figured you would do.”

His eyebrows flicked up in amusement. “Oh, I see how it is. I’m the last resort, huh?”

“No, you’re my second choice. My last resort is Connie.”

“I won’t tell him you said that.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Now, are you going to accept my friendship or not?” 

“‘Course.” Eren gave you his hand, the wear and tear of camp evident along the grooves of his knuckles. “Except you have to tie it on for me.”

You did just that, looping the bracelet around his wrist and knotting the end a few times. From behind, you could hear Jean and Annie arguing over the most efficient way to start a fire. No one was paying you or Eren any mind, but just in case, you hushed your voice.

“You should come to my tent later,” you whispered, tilting your gaze up at him. “After everyone’s asleep.”

Eren’s smirk made the back of your neck hot. “Should I bring my sleeping bag?”

“No need. I’m happy to share.” 

That enthusiasm toward sharing died a little when Eren scared you later that night. Staffing had powered everything down for the season—and you meant everything. No lamps, nothing. Without the campfire, the night was pitch black. Eren had no choice but to shine his flashlight to find his way to you, lest he wished to trip over firewood.

The zipper squealed as Eren pulled back the corner of your tent. You sprang upright in alarm, heart thudding against your ribcage like it might burst. As more light poured inside, you finally made out his silhouette. 

“God, you scared me,” you exhaled with a hand clasped over your chest. 

The laugh that rattled through him had you doubting the sincerity of his, “Sorry,” and made it sound more like he’d done it on purpose. He ducked to crawl through the door before closing it again, sealing in the charred scent of citronella candles inside with him. 

“Come here already,” you said, scooting to make room for him beside you. 

You realized it was a tight squeeze for two—or rather, you realized how large he was when sitting inside your sorry excuse of a tent. It wasn’t nearly as spacious as you had anticipated when imagining inviting him in for a nightcap. 

That was okay, though. You didn’t need much room. As long as the both of you could fit, even semi-comfortably. . . 

You took his face into your hands and captured Eren’s lips in a kiss. Then another one. You kissed him again, and you kissed him with tongue, and he tasted like dessert. Like honey and cinnamon graham crackers from the s’mores you had toasted around the fire. You indulged for a moment, kissing him slowly, as if to pretend you had all the time in the world, and there wasn’t only thin nylon separating you from the great outdoors. 

You dragged him toward you, over top of you, as you collapsed back into the warm press of your sleeping bag where you once lay. From there, things escalated, fast. You had already been here before. 

Every touch was heavy with need and nowhere near as cautious as before. Your fingers weaved themselves into his hair, pulling him close. His hands wedged between your back and the ground, flattening your body to his, pulling you even closer. 

Eren nuzzled into the curve of your neck, inhaling the thickly sweet smell of bonfire in your hair, mixed with one that was uniquely you. He remembered the sounds you made when he kissed your neck, right there, in the dip beneath your jaw, and he needed to hear them again. His mouth was reckless, insatiable, like he didn’t want to savor you but eat you whole. 

You arched your neck, giving him the expanse of it to do with as he pleased. But what he was really after was still out of reach. He sat back just enough to throw your arms above your head and slipped off your shirt. He could hardly see you, made up of shadows from faint moonlight that cast through the tent, but he didn’t need to see to know you were bare below him. 

Eren ran a large hand down your chest, catching your nipple and squeezing your breast. You let out a whimper, but his lips were quick to smother the sound. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue licking into your open and desperately willing mouth. It was messy yet intentional, had your skin prickling despite the accumulation of sweat on the nape of your neck. It left you chasing after him, never breaking the kiss once, as he rolled to your side. 

He propped himself onto his elbow to lean over you. His other hand ventured from your sternum to your stomach, his fingertips sparking little flames everywhere he touched.

Eren had to feel his way through the dark, focusing on how you’d tense and wiggle in anticipation, blind to every one of his unpredictable touches. He reached down between your legs to discover you wore only a pair of underwear to bed. He grinned into the kiss, knowing you most likely underdressed for the sticky nighttime air, but believing you had done it for his ease alone.

Your legs spread for his hand to nestle between. He cupped your clothed pussy, rubbing the lips with enough pressure to have your hips bearing down on his palm, aching for even more. 

“Your fingers. Please,” you murmured against his mouth, deliciously breathy. “I wanna feel them.”

Eren sat a bit higher. He tucked your panties into the crease of your thigh and traced your slit. You shuddered, awakening to the feeling of his fingers gliding along your wetness, collecting it, before pushing his middle finger inside of you. Your mouth fell ajar. You couldn’t kiss him any longer, only hopelessly pant into his mouth, breathing his air as he dragged his finger in and out of you. 

“How’s that?” Eren asked, his voice lower than you remembered and teeming with desire. “Feel good?”

You nodded even though he wouldn’t see it. “Yeah. Can—can you add another?”

Such a helpless plea. Fuck. 

Eren wished he could see you, like actually see you. He could hear you falling apart, the little huffs through your nose; he could even feel it, your insides clamping down on his finger—god, even thinking about it now, how tight you’d feel around his cock, had him reeling. 

When he pumped his middle finger back inside you, his ring finger accompanied it. Your muscles flexed then relaxed, with your head falling back into the pillow as the soft part of his palm began slapping against your touch-starved clit. 

The sound you made—something of a moan or some unintelligible curse—emboldened him. He felt the same need for your orgasm as he would his own, with the same burning intensity in his gut. He might have wanted it even more than you did. He was concentrated, and for this fleeting blip in time, he’d say you were the only two people in the world. With nothing around you except a choir of crickets chirping low in your ear; the sounds of night, of isolation. 

Eren rested his forehead against yours, staring into the pit of you through your pupils. You felt your mouth drop as he slipped his fingers from you. He brought them up to your clit, stroking you with a feather-light touch. 

“You like that, yeah?” he whispered. “You like it when I play with you like this?” 

Unlike his fingertips, his gaze was hot and heavy. It stole the breath from your lungs. 

“Uh-huh,” were the only syllables you could manage without choking. 

“C’mon, pretty,” Eren cooed. He tilted away, just to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Use your words.” He kissed your forehead next. “Tell me if you want me to make you come.” 

If the rising temperature in the tent didn’t already have you sweltering, then his words would have surely done the job. Heat rose to the apples of your cheeks, and he kissed those, too. 

“I want,” you said on a weepy gasp. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this turned on. You would say anything, if he asked. “I want you to make me come. Please, Eren.” 

The way you cried his name, so softly, so needily—it drove him crazy. But before he could do anything about it, he needed to get out of this damn shirt. 

Sticky with sweat, the fabric clung to his back uncomfortably. Eren pushed himself upright, sitting on his calves as he peeled his tee over his head. He tossed it aside with a sigh of relief. Not much relief, but at least he could feel the air against his flushed chest. He smoothed back a few rebellious strands of hair that stuck to his forehead before diving back into you. 

Eren kissed you again, not on the mouth this time but in the hollow between your collarbones. His lips skimmed down to the valley of your breasts, where he circled his tongue around one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth. He gave ample attention to both, going back and forth, flicking his tongue, sucking at them until they were perky enough for a pinch. 

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, biting your lip until you thought the skin might break, Eren went lower. He was below your navel, pawing over your hips and thighs, when he told you, “I want to return the favor.”

Immediately, your head darted up from the pillow to look at him. “Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“I want,” he said more firmly, kissing the spot where your hip met your thigh, “to return the favor.” Eyes fixed on you, Eren nosed at your clothed cunt. “Can I?”

How were you supposed to say no to that?

“Okay,” you quietly agreed, and it seemed to open the floodgates. Like the word had unleashed a swarm of fireflies within you, sparking in the deepest part of your stomach. Expectancy rushed through your body; it was nothing short of a thrill. 

Eren mouthed along your inner thighs, forging a pathway up between your legs. They were soft and giving beneath him. Plush skin molding around his fingertips as he pinned you into place, squirming more and more as he closed in on where you wanted him most. 

He was delicate as he took the seat of your underwear in his teeth and tucked them back against your thigh. You felt his breath on you first, the wet warmth of anticipation, then his tongue as it licked a stripe of heat through you. Your body jerked, heels digging into the tent floor in some meaningless attempt at grounding yourself.

Eren’s chuckle died on his tongue. You—everything about you, from your tent to your pillow and blanket, to the remnants of shampoo in your hair and the arousal dripping between your legs—was delicious, sweet. A welcomed reprieve after weeks upon weeks of living with boys. But as wonderful as you were, he felt himself growing desperate for more. 

“I want to see you,” Eren said against your skin, almost growling. You didn’t expect it, nor did you expect for him to straighten out and go digging around. You released the breath you’d been holding and perched yourself onto your elbows. 

You didn’t realize what he meant, or what he was looking for, until it hit you in the face: the beam from his flashlight, quickly smothered by your t-shirt. The navy blue fabric dimmed the light to a faint glow, but it was enough that you could see him, just a little, after your eyes adjusted. 

Confessedly, you stared for a minute. But he did, too. Your eyes fell over his shadowy form, the slight part to his lips, the subtle rise and fall of his chest. You savored the parts of him you’d only been able to steal glances at. And for that minute, you felt unhurried. You had more than an hour (and certainly more than seven minutes) to yourselves for the first time. 

But it was just that: a minute and nothing more. A mere sixty seconds before you became hyper aware of where you really were. You weren’t in your bedroom, safely hidden behind a locked door. Paper-thin nylon separated you from the others, and if you could see Eren, then how clearly could they see you, together? Had he effectively made the tent a beacon of light in the dark? You thought back to all the corny movies you’d seen—both lovers and ax murderers with their silhouettes projected onto tents like a shadow puppet show. 

“Wait,” you breathed. “What if they can see us?” 

You weren’t sure he heard you. He looked you over with darkened eyes, with a heaviness behind his gaze that you could feel. It was like a weight on your chest, keeping you there for him, heart thumping, in only a flimsy pair of underwear. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Eren said, so quietly that you didn’t think you were meant to hear it. He rubbed his palms from the tops of your thighs down, then back up again. “Let them see. I don’t even care.”

Your panties were soaked through, stuck to your inner thigh and begging to come off. Eren slid them over your hips and down your legs. You raised your feet, and there was a slight wobble to them as he pulled your underwear off your ankles.

You remained propped on your elbows, watching Eren’s every move with bright but hesitant eyes. He lowered himself down again, cupping your hips with his hands and thumbing over the bone reassuringly. He kissed so gently, everywhere he could, but paying the most attention to your pussy. Swollen and sensitive, each press of his lips tickled, burning like a seal of wax on an envelope. They left you gasping, wiggling around, spreading your legs for more; they soothed your apprehension, convinced you that fucking in this sweaty tent, in the middle of the forest, was the best idea you’d ever had. 

“Please—oh, god,” you whisper-whined. You needed his tongue back on you.

“What is it?” he playfully asked, knowing fully well what it was you wanted. “You want me to keep going?”

Eren lapped the flat of his tongue over you, slow and hot. You were puddy in his hands, malleable and pliant, and you knew it, too. You just didn’t have it in you to care. Maybe you even liked it. 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Keep going.”

Eren smirked. “What happened? You don’t care if they see us?” His hands curved beneath you, pushing on the backs of your thighs so they were up and out of his way. “See you like this, with your legs in the air for me?”

“No. No, I don’t fucking care,” you rushed out on a shaky breath.

That was enough for him to finally give into you. He closed his mouth over you, and instantly you were enveloped in heat. The softness of his lips, the deftness of his tongue as he licked you, over and over again, had you seeing stars behind your eyelids. 

One hand tangled itself in your pillow case, and your other shoved itself in Eren’s hair, tugging him a little to the left. The tip of his tongue flicked over your clit from that angle, and you felt yourself shiver and clench. 

“Right there, right there,” you softly chanted. “Just like that—fuck!” 

Eren ground his hips into the sleeping bag beneath him. It was pathetic of him, but he couldn’t restrain himself. You were, quite literally, the hottest thing he’d ever seen—and heard and felt and tasted, for what it was worth. And before he knew it, he had his hand shoved down the front of his shorts, groaning at the relief of his own hand. 

He was helpless to you. Helpless to the very notion that he finally had you like this, squirming in pleasure of his doing, the proof of it leaking over his tongue. Yes, you were the one unraveling right before him, crying out that you were about to come, but he was the one at your mercy. Tell him to jump, and he’d ask how high. Ask him to keep doing this, licking you to orgasm again and again, forever, and he would. 

Mounting pressure, not only from tonight but still lingering from every interruption, released itself in an eruption. It coursed through you, pulsing outward from your core and leaving toe-curling ripples in its wake. And all you could do was lie there and let it take you wholly. Hide your face in the bend of your elbow in hopes it would stifle your cries. It half-worked, resulting in a drawn-out whine, one you could feel against your face like steam. A soft sound for just the two of you to hear. 

Once it was over, after you’d let your arm flop to your side, Eren rolled off, just as spent as you. You each lay there on your backs, staring at the pitched ceiling, with the most erratic breaths tugging at your chests. 

You wiped a bead of sweat from your upper lip only to realize that was just the beginning of it: blots of perspiration that were no longer decorating your hairline but dripping down your forehead, down your neck, and between your breasts. 

“I think I need some air,” you said with a sheepish sort of laugh. 

Eren looked relieved when he turned to you. Coupled with his sweat-sheened shoulder, you could almost predict it when he said, “I’m so glad you said it first.” He pushed himself upright. “Me too.”

“We could go for a walk,” you offered, then a smile took hold of your face. “Or maybe a dip in the lake?” 

In truth, it wasn’t a bad idea. Eren even seemed to consider it, wearing this thoughtfully crooked expression before agreeing. 

He stayed in just his shorts, while you reluctantly put your clothes back on over your balmy skin. When you thought you were ready to leave, Eren caught you by the wrist.

“Hold on.” He pulled you into him, stealing a peck. 

You didn’t let it end there, though. You kissed him again, longer this time, winding yourself into him, not minding the rising temperature. It was a lapse in judgment when you thought, Fuck it. I don’t care if I pass out from the heat. I want him inside of me. But you didn’t get the chance to make the call before Eren had already begun unzipping the door, his lips leaving yours in a self-satisfied grin. 

You poked your head out to find nothing had changed since everyone turned in for the night. You breathed a bit easier knowing that, walked a bit lighter behind Eren as he illuminated the path with his flashlight. 

Outside the tent, the air wasn’t much cooler, but at least there was a breeze. Humid, but fresh. The layer of sweat on your skin prickled, turning tacky as it dried on your skin. You couldn’t wait to shed your clothes and plunge into the lake for a rinse. 

You walked in a comfortable silence, side-by-side. It was a quick jaunt to the lake, but far enough away that the huddle of tents was out of sight. No one would stumble upon the two of you unless they came looking—or, on the off chance, someone else wanted to take a late-night dive, too. But that seemed pretty unlikely. 

Considering you’d already bared everything for him, you didn’t give it a second thought as you tore your shirt over your head. Nor did you think about it before kicking off your sandals, peeling your shorts and underwear down your legs next. 

You toed through the sand and over to the water’s edge. When you didn’t hear Eren following behind, you spun around to see him right where you’d left him. As if you had inexplicably swapped roles over the last five minutes, he remained rooted in place, apprehensive, still in his shorts, while you stood naked in the moonlight. 

You took a few steps toward him. “What? Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” 

There was a teasing cadence to your tone. You sang the syllables. Ner-vous. 

Obviously, Eren was nervous. It was entirely your fault that he was crumbling on the spot. How could he not, with you naked, all giggles, bouncing around in front of him? For fuck’s sake, you were still bleary-eyed and moony from the orgasm he gave you—and not to mention, he could still taste you on the back of his tongue. 

He would never tell you any of this, but he didn’t need to. You seemed to know already, grinning ear-to-ear at him as if you could guess every thought as it crossed his mind. 

You leaned in on your tiptoes, and Eren noticeably braced, jumpy, like every one of his nerve endings had gone haywire. You floated him a quick kiss, luring him as he did with you. You walked backwards toward the lake, eyes trained on him, with that same ever-growing grin. 

It was quite the sight: you, seemingly without a care in the world, even if you should have a few—you know, like stepping on a sharp rock or tripping over a tangle of seaweed. Eren couldn’t help giving a gruff laugh as he shook his head. 

“You can’t get all shy on me now,” you called out as you stepped out onto the dock. You twirled around to overlook the lake. “Not after I had your dick in my mouth, and you just—”

“Okay, okay! I’m getting in,” Eren interrupted before you had to say it aloud. Ten seconds later, he met you at the end of the dock, naked, and you tried your best to keep your eyes straight ahead.

In a word, the view was serene. The night had water-colored the world in rich indigo; nothing went untouched except for the very crest of the water. It was almost crystalline, like the lake would shatter the moment you dove in. 

“Regretting your decision?” Eren asked. You hadn’t known him long, or that well, but you could tell he sounded more himself than he did a minute ago, with a certain cheekiness ringing through his voice. 

“Nope,” you said with faux confidence, even puffing your chest. “Just making sure you don’t chicken out on me first.”

Eren raised a brow. “What does that mean?” 

He got his answer in the form of you pushing him into the water. You’d like to think you surprised him with that, but realistically, he more than likely saw it coming and allowed for it, because how else would you have successfully knocked the guy over? You didn’t leave him hanging though; you weren’t that cruel. You jumped in after him, ensuring he wasn’t alone when he resurfaced. 

The lake’s temperature that was once, in your own words, like bathwater now felt more like a forgotten bath you’d let run cold. Perhaps some would call it refreshing, but you’d need more convincing. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a hug, gasping, “This was a much better idea in my head.” 

Eren barked a laugh, the real kind that came from his belly, and he shook some water from his hair. “At least we’re cooled off now, that’s for sure.” 

Unfazed by the frigid lake (probably because he was one of those ‘refreshing!’ people), Eren opened his arms for you. He had this inviting warmth about him, his hand doing that thing you discovered you liked, swirling circles against your lower back. That was the only convincing you needed to stay a while longer. Maybe, just maybe, you’d even say the water felt all right. 

You burrowed your face into the curve of his shoulder and kissed him there, simply because you couldn’t help yourself. Your mouth slipped and slid over his wet skin, and it pulled a raspy sound from him. His fingertips skirted up the side of your thigh to hitch your leg around his waist. He lifted you effortlessly, sealing your body against his. 

You felt light in the head and weightless in the water, so much so you even believed you’d float away if you weren’t careful. You locked your ankles around the small of Eren’s back, holding onto him like a seahorse does to coral. 

When Eren had imagined this moment—not the naked-in-the-lake thing but confessing—he thought it might feel debilitating. Like cracking his chest wide open to hand you his heart, essentially permitting you to do with it as you pleased. Admittedly dramatic, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been here and felt like this. He didn’t want to risk losing it. 

But there was something underlying, unsaid, behind your gaze. Something Eren wasn’t sure he could name—if the words even existed—but disarmed him. That unique talent of yours. It had him casting aside the armor he’d collected over the years and handing you his sword. Like you were seeing him for the first time, and him you. Yes, you were naked with sopping-wet hair clinging to your face, but even after he smoothed the strands back, the vulnerability remained. 

On a hearted breath, Eren said, “I need to get something off my chest,” and it sent a rush through you, capturing your full attention. “Before someone pops out of the forest or lightning strikes, knowing our luck.” 

You glanced at the clear sky overhead. “If lightning strikes us tonight, then the universe must really not want us to get together.”

Eren chuckled. He unwrapped one of your arms from his neck and held up your hand. He ran his thumb over your bracelet and said, “As you’ve probably put together by now, Falco didn’t make this bracelet for you.” 

“I may have put it together,” you said, a little sweet, a little like a smart-ass. 

“And I was the one—am the one with a crush on you. Not because of this,” Eren gave you a once-over, referencing this and everything else you’d done together, “but before that. When I first saw you. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since.”

Eren caressed your cheek, then cupped your chin. “I know I’m doing this backwards but. . .” He tilted your face either way, placing a kiss against each of your temples. “I want to take you out, actually spend some time with you and get to know you, when we’re back at school. I don’t want this to end here.”

Heat flared in your core and spread through you like wildfire. “I don’t want this to end here, either,” you whispered. You meant it too, even proved it by pressing your forehead to his assuringly. 

You could feel Eren’s smile when he went to kiss you, how it deepened after you started kissing him back. His large hand cradled the back of your head, holding you close even as you mumbled into his mouth, “You’re hard again.”

“Just ignore it.” 

Eren’s mouth sought yours again, but you lightly dodged him. He eased back enough that you could see his face more clearly, but you only focused on the desire hazing his eyes.

Just ignore it, he said, but his glossy eyes said otherwise.

Just ignore it, but it was difficult to do so when it was pressing against your inner thigh. When he could push inside of you right then, completely unhindered. With just a slight wiggle of your hips, a quick and easy thrust of his. 

“What if,” you whispered on a sharp breath, brows beginning to furrow like you might cry if he didn’t fuck you then, “I can’t.”

You felt his heartbeat drumming against your chest, just as he could undoubtedly feel yours. The sting of cold water, the thistly heat between your legs—each climbed up your spine and heightened your every sense, like live wires just beneath your skin. 

And when he kissed you, you swore no one had ever kissed you like that before. Rough and needy, yet slow, even sensual, as he tasted you—your tongue, your teeth. Your bottom lip as he gave it a harsh suck. It was the kind of kiss that stole your breath but replaced it too, filling you to your very brim. With nothing left in your lungs except for Eren’s breath. 

There was a moment you truly believed you might get high off him, as if it were even possible. You felt the world shift below you, turn you around, only to realize it was him walking you back toward shore.

You didn’t stop kissing until you reached the dock. Your back bumped up against it, and you parted from one another in a gasp. Eren lifted you by the underarms and placed you atop the edge. With hands planted on either side of you, he hoisted himself up next. Water splashed across your lap as he crawled over top of you, laying you back into the puddle he’d made. 

When the breeze hit you, all of you, your teeth started to chatter, half-shivering, half-burning as Eren caged you between his arms. Water beaded at the tip of his nose and dripped onto your cheek.

You giggled, as the situation rightfully called for, but there was a shakiness to your voice as you teased, “Are we about to fuck on an old dock?” 

“If that’s what you want,” Eren said, his lips giving way to a toothy smile. You nod, smiling too, and hooked your legs around his waist. “Then yes, we’re about to fuck on an old dock.” A shudder racked through him as your thighs tightened, and he lowered his mouth to yours. “So long as it doesn’t give out.”

It was the two of you, soaked to the bone, decorated in goosebumps and smelling of lake water. It was cold and dark and the last place on Earth you expected to be. It was a lot of things, but ‘romantic’ wasn’t one of them. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been romantic, but your heart skipped a beat just the same. 

It also just so happened to be very, very hot. 

“Condom?” you asked. Eren reached an arm over your head and snagged his shorts. From the pocket, he pulled out the foil and tore it open with his teeth. Before you knew it, he’d rolled it onto himself and mounted you again. 

His tip rubbed up and down your slit as he fixed himself comfortably above you. You snaked a hand down to guide his cock. Your fingers went slick with lube as you took hold of him, looking him in the eyes while he put it in. 

Eren’s hips tilted into yours, pushing in deeper, making room for himself. He was more patient than you’d imagined, letting you learn the stretch, the fullness. The weight of him inside you. 

You were flush together, his pelvis smushed against the backs of your thighs, and it sent a shiver pulsing through you. You both felt it and took a pause. You adjusted to the feel of him brushing against what felt like the bottom of your stomach, while he closed his eyes to collect himself—or else he’d finish before even getting started.

He took his time sliding out of you. He savored how your cunt squeezed each part of him on his way out. Even better was when he pumped back into you, how it made your back arch for him. You lifted from the dock, and he seized the opportunity to slip his hand beneath you. This time, when he thrust back inside, he pulled you down with him, onto him, making sure you really felt it. 

“Oh—oh!” you moaned. 

You threw your arms over his shoulders and buried your face in his chest. You rocked with him, meeting every snap of his hips, mewling a broken series of oh god, oh god. But you could hardly hear yourself—hardly hear Eren over the wild creaks from the wood below you as he groaned, “You feel—fucking amazing.” 

He breathed the words right above your ear with a voice like thunder, low and rumbly in your chest. It tickled every little hair, making them stand on end. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this—shit.” He hissed when you kicked your leg higher, helping him reach a new, better angle. “That you’re letting me fuck you right now.”

To have you there, below him, your arms and legs weaving into him like you’d never let go—he thought it must be a dream. 

You almost couldn’t believe it either. You trailed your clammy fingers down between your legs and felt where he split you, over and over and over. He felt so good when he was touching you, licking you—when he was fucking you. He was the only thing on your mind, yet the only response you could give him was a small sob as your head lolled back. 

Eren’s nose brushed your temple. He spoke against the side of your face as he warned, “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.” 

That being the way you held onto the base of his cock like you wanted to milk him into you. He even moaned when your grip firmed.

“You—fuck—you want me to come. Don’t you?” 

You did. You wanted to watch his eyes roll back, see how his face looked when it was screwed up in pleasure. You wanted his body to spasm above you, and you wanted to feel it and know you were its cause. You wanted him to feel half as good as he made you feel thirty minutes ago, devouring you within a thread of consciousness. 

“Please,” you begged. Eren fucked you harder. “I want you to—”

You cut out on an airless cry. The sound was replaced by the slap of skin-on-skin, wet because you hadn’t even tried to dry yourselves off. It was relentless, but it wasn’t his orgasm he was bullying toward. 

Eren could feel you around him, tensing and easing, throbbing like you had a second heartbeat in your pussy. He knew you were as close as he was. 

“I want you to come, too,” he told you, half-chuckling through gritted teeth. “But I need you to come first—to make up for lost time.”

The last thing you’d expected was to come like this. Usually, the feat required a bit more time, concentration—and rarely ran the risk of splinters.

But you were extremely sensitive from his tongue on you earlier. You came and all the blood had rushed between your legs, then it never really left. He’d let it simmer long enough until you were ready to boil over. Just hearing how hungry he was for it, to feel you come on his cock, had the feeling winding itself in your gut, quick and tight, only for you to unravel again right before his eyes. 

“I’m coming,” you whispered. Louder, more frantically, you panted, “Ohmygod, I’m coming. Don’t stop, Eren. Please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Eren wanted to chuckle again, but he’d choke if he tried. His voice was strangled, all caught up in his throat. He thought he’d forgotten how to breathe when you plead his name—he’d never thought it could sound like that. 

“Say that again,” he gruffed. He was right there with you, staving off his climax but fucking you through yours, anyway. “Say my name again.”

“Ah—Eren,” you pushed out on your exhale, drawing out the last syllable impossibly long; the last breath before you fell limp and lazy in his hold. 

Eren let himself go then, finally. With a groan ripped from the back of his throat, his hips sputtered and lost their rhythm. His cock stuffed you full one final time, biceps quivering like he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. 

He breathed hard a few times; you counted the breaths. One, two, three, four—

“Holy fuck,” Eren cursed, muddled, his voice still thick. 

Holy fuck was right. 

Eren stared at you, and you at him. Neither of you had the ability to say what was on your mind, but you already knew what the other was thinking: Did that just happen? 

Yes, it did. And it might have been some of the best sex you’ve had in your life. Right on this dock. You would think to pinch yourself to double-check you were awake if not for the air nipping your skin as Eren got off of you. 

You straightened out to sit beside him. Keeping close, you welded yourself to his side. You snuck your arm beneath his, pressed your cheek into his arm. You held him like that until your breathing evened out, and you felt ready to look at him again. 

He had an easy look on his face; a soft, one-sided smile that made your insides turn to goo. He placed a hand on your thigh, warming the top of it with his palm. 

You didn’t know who would break the silence first: you, him, or some third thing he’d listed earlier, like a bolt of lightning. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

You were surprised to hear yourself say it. Something that was supposed to stay a secret inside your head, yet slipped from you in a quiet confession. 

Eren laughed once. Just an amused huff through his nose. If you had any clue how long he’d been wanting this. . . 

He thought back to that day in your cabin, how exhilarating and nerve-racking and wonderful and awfully awkward it was. He leaned back like he was inspecting you, then rifled a hand through your hair. 

“How’s your head, by the way?” He asked, grinning widely. “You smacked it pretty hard on that bunk bed, you know.”

It teased a laugh from you. You playfully nudged him away, and he laughed harder than before. His shoulders shook with him but didn’t stop even after his laughter settled. 

“You’re freezing,” you commented. You were partially right, but it wasn’t just the cold. He was still vibrating from excitement, from his adrenaline. But that sweaty, sticky tent didn’t sound half bad right now, either. 

Eren nodded. “Let’s head back.” 

He stood with his hands out for you to take. You smiled up at him as you grabbed onto each one.

“So,” you said as you pulled yourself up, with a newfound spring in your step. “Where’s our first date going to be?” 

The corners of his lips crooked up. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

You hummed in thought as you walked the dock together. "What's your favorite kind of food?"

"Thai," Eren answered without missing a beat.

"Thai sounds good."

“Well, wait,” he hurried out like he’d been left out of a crucial decision. “What’s yours?”

You answered as you gathered the clothes you’d littered across the beach. You didn’t have the forethought to bring a towel (for obvious reasons), so you’d have to make do with soggy shorts and a t-shirt until you were back in your tent. 

You realized, while stepping into your underwear, that this was the first thing you knew about him: Eren liked Thai food. 

Actually, you knew where he liked to be kissed, and that he liked Thai food, but you didn’t know much else. You didn’t know his birthday or the town he grew up or even—

“Eren.”

He perked in attention. Already in his shorts, he waited on you to get dressed, trying to look anywhere but at you getting dressed. To see you with such a bemused expression out of nowhere worried him. 

“What’s your major?” you asked.

He gave a warm laugh that made you relax your shoulders, no matter how chilly you thought you were.

“Sports medicine,” Eren replied as he came in close. He looked at you with eyes you could get lost in, never veering off even as his hand wormed its way into yours.

You followed his touch, glancing down to see your fingers interlaced—the hands you had locked together, each adorned in white and turquoise.

“And I can tell you all about it at the restaurant of your choosing.”

Tonight’s as good a night as ever, Eren thinks. His roommate, Armin, insists on hosting a game night every other week-ish to ‘get the gang together.’ But game nights are hard. No one can listen long enough to learn the rules. So game nights soon devolved into movie nights, which turned into drinking nights after no one could ever agree on a movie. 

That’s the plan for the evening: to have a couple of beers or seltzers or whatever his friends planned on bringing, and to spend some time with you. Alone.

You walked into the apartment huffing and puffing, unsurprisingly pissed about whatever your boyfriend did or didn’t do this time. You’ve spent most of the night wallowing in your displeasure, trying to hide it but failing miserably. Eren can tell you’re furiously texting Sasha every little detail despite sitting across from one another.  

If you were to ask any of your friends, they’d probably say they used to think you and Eren would date. You had that energy about you. Still do. But then you met your boyfriend, things progressed, and you’ve been seeing each other ever since. On and off, of course. 

Eren dated other people, too. And sure, he liked them, but that’s as far as it would get. Finding happiness is difficult when he constantly sees the greener grass on the other side. 

He thought it might be a timing thing, the reason the two of you never hooked up. It made sense back then. But now, Eren knows it’s not a timing thing because he’s single, and you can dump your boyfriend any time you want—if that’s what you want. 

Eren could pry. He could be forthright and ask what you’re texting Sasha about. But that would get him nowhere, with a coordinated response of ‘girl stuff,’ and the subject would inevitably die there. 

You never talk about your boyfriend problems when Eren is around. Not that he expected you to; he would have written it off a long time ago if he hadn’t overheard you confiding in Armin. Jean, too. Anyone who would listen, it sure seemed like, besides Eren. You know, the one person who really, really wanted to know. After all, he’s certain he could show you how much better things could be, with him.

So he’ll do just that. He catches you at the right moment, once the two of you are alone—sort of. Armin had gone to bed. Sasha had left and taken Jean and Connie with her. The only guests remaining are you and Mikasa—and she’s been sitting heavy-eyed on the couch for the last twenty minutes. 

Then there’s you, all squirmy beside him.

“Are you cold?” Eren asks. He knows that’s not the reason, and he also knows you’d never ask the more direct question, ‘Are you all right?’

“I’m fine,” you whisper, cautious of disturbing Mikasa as she drifts off. “I’m just—”

“Having a long night?” Eren guesses. 

You sigh, and it’s weighty enough to sound like you’ve held it in for a while.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

It’s vague, yet you still feel you said too much. 

Hands in your lap, you mess with your fingers. You focus on that rather than try to look Eren in the eye. You can’t bring yourself to do that right now; it makes your insides burn uncomfortably hot. 

There’s no denying how Eren makes you feel. Hell, there’s no denying you came over here tonight with him on your mind. After what transpired with your boyfriend (or was it your ex-boyfriend now? You left unsure of where you stood), how could you not? 

“Is there anything I can do,” Eren slides closer to you on the couch, “to make your night better?”

Yes, you think. Yes, yes, yes.

You shake your head, gaze low, fixed on his leg pressing against yours. 

“It’s not your problem to fix,” you assure, but it lacks any sureness and almost sounds like a dare.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Eren says, always up for a challenge, especially if you’re the prize at the end. 

You are better than this, you tell yourself. You are above this. 

Still, you can’t help but think: what would your boyfriend do if the roles were reversed? You argued about his fidelity before—you even argued about it a few hours ago—and you have no more clarity than you did at the start.

Maybe you haven’t been perfect, either. Maybe there were times you should’ve told Eren to cut the flirting, and even times you shouldn’t have reciprocated. You thought it was harmless, that you’d never end up exactly where you are now.

You also never imagined how invigorating, how right, it would feel.

Eren places a hand on your thigh, tentatively at first, light despite the guilt weighing down on you. When you don’t stop him, he grows confident; his hand slides higher and squeezes gently. It’s chaste, something that could still pass as friendly if not for how it made you feel.

I am absolutely not above this. 

That’s how you wound up in his bedroom. Eren whispered for Mikasa, and when she didn’t respond, he took it as the go-ahead to lead you somewhere more private. Down the hall, with the door shut and locked behind you, Eren had you to himself for the first time. 

Your heart thrums in your ears. It’s adrenaline, anticipation, a rush you never want to end. You hardly hear him when he asks, “How can I make your night better?” He nears you in a single step. “What would you like me to do?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you murmur, too shy to say what he wants to hear: that you want him. You want his mouth on yours, maybe on your neck, too. His hands on your chest, smoothing down your hips and between your legs. 

Instead of saying it, you lean into Eren wordlessly. You tilt your chin high to meet him, and he catches it between his fingers. He guides you to him gently. Your noses brush, your lips don’t. It’s close. So close. Enough for your lashes to flutter softly against his cheek, for you to feel every one of his warm breaths as they break over your lips. It’s intoxicating; it’s not enough. But you can’t bring yourself to seal that fateful gap between you. 

“I can’t,” you stammer. Shamefully, you found it hurt to say the words. 

Eren is silent as he pulls away from you. Before he’s too far, you snatched his wrist in your hand. You don’t know why or what you’re thinking besides that you want to keep him there. He remains frozen except for the flicker of his eyes from your hand to your face. He lets you decide where this would or wouldn’t go. 

“I don’t—fuck, I don’t know what to do,” you complain. Your head is a spinny, screwed-up disaster. Full of forbidden fantasies and raging hormones and pools of warmth spreading from your stomach to your fingertips—all because of him. 

“What do you want to do?” Eren asks in a low voice. It’s coaxing, cloying, but needful at the same time. You’ve never heard him like this before, yet he sounds familiar. Reminiscent of the same need burning inside you, so hot you think it might burn a hole through you, one only he can fill. 

You lick your bottom lip only to find your mouth has gone dry.

Eren closes in on you. His presence looming, nose nudging the side of your face as he whispers in your ear, “I can tell you what I want to do, if that would help.”

He nuzzles lower, beneath your jawline. He doesn’t kiss you there—no, he would never do that. What he does is worse, somehow. It’s teasing. His breath fans over your ear and sends shockwaves down your spine. He needs you to not only hear but to feel every word, every dirty thing he’s imagined doing with you.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he breathes against the side of your face, warming you from the inside out. His hand clasps over yours and guides it to your belly, then lower. “And I want to watch.”

You could feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes, like there was a fire lit within you. 

“Can you do that for me?” he asks, smooth and soothing. “I’ll only look. I won’t touch, I promise.” 

It’s a lousy excuse for a loophole. Actually, it doesn’t even qualify as a loophole. But the thought had you beyond dizzy. Absolutely head-to-toe flustered.

Eren leans back, holding you by the shoulders. He looks you in the eyes and again insists, “No touching.”

Loophole or not, you can’t find it within you to care. You trust him, you think. Either that, or your brain had short-circuited because you can only repeat back, “No touching,” as you bob your pretty little head. 

Eren smiles down at you, running his knuckles down the side of your face. It’s gentle, it’s praising, and it brings—no, it yanks you back to him. 

“Lie on the bed,” he says. 

You do as told, resting back on your forearms. He tugs your bottoms off with ease and reveals a pair of pale blue panties. An unforgiving color. When you spread your legs for him, he can see how you soaked through them after some innocent teasing. 

You touch yourself without him having to ask again. You trace over the damp patch and play with your clit through the fabric. Eren sees how easily your panties slip between you, how wet you already are, and he has to stifle a curse. 

Eren drops to his knees, nestling between your legs at the foot of the bed. He has a hand on either side of you. Not touching, of course. 

“Look at that.” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your pussy. “You like it when I talk to you, huh? When I tell you what to do?”

You whine at his words, rub faster. You want to come. 

“So needy. What’s the rush?” Eren tuts. He climbs onto the bed, propping his back against the headboard. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As he says it, his hand travels lower. Dangerously low. He palms over his crotch and draws your attention to how hard he is. His insistent cock tents his sweatpants, and he grips himself through the fabric.

You stare with too much interest. The corner of Eren’s lip curls into a smirk when you have to close your hungry mouth. He’s just as greedy, though, just as riled up as you. Even the touch of his own hand has his muscles tightening and twitching. 

You crawl over to his side and try to relax into the pillows as best you can. Your shoulders droop, your knees fall to either side, but there’s a tremble to your hand as it returns between your legs. Your touch remains feather-light as you dance your fingers along the hem of your underwear. You watch unabashedly, with your head lolled to one side as Eren mirrors you. His thumb dips below his waistband.

This still counts as ‘no touching,’ right? 

Eren shoves his hands down his sweatpants. You don’t see it when he takes his cock into his hand, but the outline of him working over his length beneath the fabric was as plain as day.

Your eyes ask the question your lips wouldn’t dare to ask. Eren responds, “You first,” as he looks down at your underwear. 

Your fingers stutter and pause. You’ve already dipped your toes into the corrupted waters, so you might as well take the full plunge. 

You tuck your underwear to the side, pinching them between the crease of your thigh. Your fingers feel almost cold against your feverish skin, and you shiver in response, letting the feeling wreck though every nerve. You clench around nothing. 

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, an incidental hiss. 

He pushes his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, and his cock slaps his front. He aches for anything more than his own hand, but it’s all he has right now. It’s agonizing to have what he needs so damn close, yet just out of reach. 

He pumps himself faster, tightening his grip around his tip to mimic your cunt. 

He can only catch glimpses; your panties keep getting in his way, and you have to keep adjusting them. Eren goes to take them off but stops himself short. 

“Take them off,” he tells you, somewhere between a request and a demand. If this was his one chance to be with you, to see you, then he’s going to see all of you. 

You listen. A sticky string connecting your fingers to your cunt snaps, and you can only hope Eren didn’t see it. You’re sure he did, based on the impatient sound that comes from the back of his throat.

You lift your hips off the bed and shimmy your underwear down your legs before kicking them to the floor. 

You don’t settle back into the bed before Eren says, “I want to see more of you,” because this still isn’t enough. “C’mere.”

He adjusts you to his liking until you’re in front of him. You’re lying back on your elbows, spread, with your feet caging his hips. It’s a vulnerable position, you admit. One where you’re completely bare and on display with no shying away. You might have even found it embarrassing, if not for how turned on you are. The urge to come is nagging, simmering for so long that you feel you may boil over and do something you’ll regret. 

“Shit.” Eren’s in awe of the sight before him: your glistening cunt, swollen and practically begging to come, paired with the dreamy expression on your face. It’s the sexiest you’ve ever looked, and he’s not even sure it’s intentional. Your eyes are as alert as they are moony, as confident as they are flustered; a doe locked in his headlights, willing to eat out of his palm despite her better judgment. 

“Spread yourself for me,” he murmurs. You do so with two fingers. “God, look at you.”

So pretty. What a shame that such a pretty pussy would go unfucked tonight. 

Eren leans back again, this time with a complacent hand tucked behind his head. He spits into his other and slathers it over his cock, unblushing at how your eyes follow every fluid movement.

“Go ahead,” he says, still calmly fisting his cock. “For real this time. Make yourself come for me.”

The encouragement travels straight to your core. You sink your middle finger in first, then add another. You curve them, drag them in and out, until you find a pace that has your thighs threatening to snap shut. You pull out of yourself one last time and, with wetted fingers, you return to your neglected clit. It only takes a few slick circles before your breath quickens.

“Yeah, just like that—fuck.” Eren feels his cock throb against his palm. He slows, pulling and tightening his grip, still pretending his hand is anywhere near as soft as your pussy. “You’ve listened so well. You deserve to come, don’t you think?”

You moan something incoherent. 

“Tell me,” Eren says, smug and urgent, somehow at once. “Tell me what a good girl you’ve been. That you deserve to come.”

Slippery, unforgiving sounds fill the room from both of you, but you’ve already shed and shred of decency you had left. You dipped your toes in first, and then you took a fateful dive. But now you’ve found the current has stripped away any semblance of control you had—or thought you had. 

You’ve become a passenger inside your own body. Every motion feels wild and unpredictable, yet intimately inevitable. It’s strange and exhilarating, this raw, primal surrender to what’s physical and nothing more. 

Flowery language aside, you know one thing for sure: as much as you enjoy hearing him talk filth to you, he enjoys hearing you just as much, if not more. 

“I’m a—ah, I’m your good girl,” you moaned. Your fingers struggle to keep up with your own neediness. “I deserve to come.”

His good girl. 

Eren’s stomach lurches, abdominals tightening. He nearly comes.

What a fucking gift you are. How lucky Eren feels to witness how you get yourself off when no one’s around. 

You bring a hand to your chest, caressing along your nipple gently poking through your shirt.

“Can I see your tits?” Eren blurts, unable to help himself.

“You first.” You giggle a little, then restate, “Take off your shirt.”

Eren grins before stripping, revealing a cute flush creeping up his chest. You stick to the deal and peel your shirt over your head. You skipped putting on a bra this evening because it was supposed to be a quiet night-in with friends, but it works for this scenario, too. 

You graze your fingers over the peaks of your breasts, bouncing just so with every rub, rub, rub of your hand. You bite back a harsh gasp, but little hums escape past your teeth anyway. 

Eren’s thighs twitch. He fights back the instinct to buck his hips and fuck up into nothing. His pants turn strained and exasperated. He thinks he might be numb to his hand at this point. He could use his spit again, but why should he have to when you’re right there, as desperate as he is?

Your name is a raspy plea on his tongue. His hand smooths up your leg as he coos, “I need to feel you, baby.” His thumb strokes your inner thigh, growing extremely close to the apex between them. “Need you to help me come. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

Eren’s hands wrap around your ankles, tearing a yelp from you as he drags you toward him.

“I won’t put it in,” he promises. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your cunt against the underside of his cock. His hand somehow looks small in comparison as he holds himself at his base. He angles his cock until it’s about as close as it can be without touching you. “Please.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, but even more frantically, it pulses between your legs. Loud and demanding, it’s as impossible to ignore as the man in front of you. Hot and horny, with messy hair and pretty pink cheeks and an even prettier cock leaking at the mere thought of touching you, staring at you like he wishes to devour you whole. 

You nod, and Eren doesn’t hesitate to push his cock between your folds. You watch as he does it, perched higher on your elbows. Even with the faintest amount of pressure, your jaw slackens. 

He rocks his hips, gliding his cock through you, up and down, with the ridge of his head nudging your clit. Your skin prickles despite the thin layer of sweat you’ve accumulated. 

You raise your lower half, dragging your pussy over him, then bring yourself back down to the bed. His cock jolts; you feel it. You repeat the undulating motion again and again, effortlessly, because you can’t recall a time you’ve ever been wetter. So wet that he slips out a time or two and uses the breaks to tap the tip of his cock to your clit.

Eren gives a low chuckle when your head falls back between your shoulder blades. “What a pretty little mess you are.” 

You angle your hips so he’s in the right spot, hitting your clit deliciously. It doesn’t take long for your legs to quiver, swaying as if they might give out. Eren steadies you with a hand resting on the divot of your hip.

“Oh, God, Eren.” Your voice pitches on a broken moan. “I think I’m gonna come.”

His large hand curves around your side, his fingers digging into the fat of your ass. He keeps you moving with his grip, guiding you through it even as your legs begin to falter. Barreling down the hill toward your release, you can’t stifle a single cry as they spill from you.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let it all out, baby,” Eren encourages, saccharine as always but airless. Though his own release is imminent, he refuses to let go until you’ve had yours. 

He flattens his fingers against his cock, pressing deeper, adding more pressure. He proves how heavy and hard he is for you—how much better he’d feel inside you. The mere thought makes you groan. You push back against him instinctively, arching your back as you teeter on the edge of your undoing.

“So fucking hot,” Eren groans, thrusting as if he were truly fucking you. He meets you each time you bear down on him, his pelvis slapping against you as his hips rise from the bed. “So fucking hot.”

That familiar feeling fizzes in your stomach, swarming and radiating through you. It sparks in the tips of your fingers, even in your toes, before your orgasm consumes you entirely. Your entire being tenses, fists knotting themselves in the sheet and eyes screwing shut. The pleasure is white hot and leaves you with stars behind your eyelids.

“Keep ‘em on me while you come,” Eren urges.

You try to open your eyes as tears well in the corners. The sight before him is pornographic. You looked ruined. Eyebrows pinched and pulled together, mouth open as if you wanted to scream out your orgasm. Your soaked thighs, his thighs you soaked—and not to mention the mess you’ve surely made on the bed. As you curse and cry his name, Eren can’t help but imagine how wrecked you’d look, how much better you’d feel, if you were coming with him inside of you.

Your knees snap together, thighs sealing shut around his cock. He continues to fuck between them, against your pulsing, oversensitive pussy. Your body is spent and shaking, and he’s right there with you. The sinewy muscles of his chest flex as he builds toward his climax. 

“God, fuck,” Eren pants. “I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna come all over this pussy.”

When he does, it’s with his head thrown back and a beautiful groan. His cock spills across your belly, dribbling down the creases of your thighs and smearing with the last few thrusts as he draws out every drop. He can’t believe he could feel so good from something as pathetic as grinding.

Your body lies limp, sprawling across the bed with your legs still draped over him. You wait for some post-horny clarity to smack you across the face, but the only slap you feel is the truth: you deserve better. You aren’t going back.

You stay there, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle. One moment you’re staring at the ceiling, then blink, Eren is above you, taking your cheek in his hand. His fingers curl around the side of your face before he places his mouth on yours. He’s soft, both in how he feels and how he kisses you, with lips slotted perfectly against yours, coaxing them open with his tongue.

You finally let him touch you this way; you kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck, and you wish for the moment to stay, just for a little longer.