#eren fluff

you were so stressed out from studying for finals all last week that you could practically feel pimples forming on your skin and you've even noticed more of your hair shedding than usual... you ended up passing all of them (obviously), but it didn’t stop the stress you had been feeling for the past two weeks.

you asked eren to meet up, he chose to see you at an old parking lot at his car, only because he was already high before you called hm and he didn’t have the energy to drive to you.

you pull up to his spot walking nervously to his spot he rolled down the window of his hellcat to look up at you with half-lidded, blood shot green eyes. he smiled a wide toothy grin at you.

‘‘what you need, mamas?”

“Eren, it’s not really that I need something… I just wanted to see if we could like…”

he looks up at u with amused eyes and a small smirk. “What did u want, y/n? Spit it out, baby.” Now you look up at him with shy eyes  ‘‘it’s not like i wanted to just buy from you this time, I wanted to know if you would smoke with me?’’

you didn’t mean for it to happen, but it came out sounding like a question. you suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment. you felt so silly saying that to him. you turned to leave, thinking you sounded so damn stupid, but Eren just laughed out loud. his laughter didn't help. you turned around ready to spit back when he said,

‘‘ Of course, get in.’’  he unlocks all the car doors and signals for you to get in the backseat so he could climb in the back after you. instead of rolling a new one for you, he takes the one he has in his mouth and pushes it past your plump lips.

‘‘that’s for you, baby.’’ you let out a small hum once you fully adjust your lips around it. it’s only after you take a few hits that you notice he's looking at you, with undivided attention. ‘‘Is somethin’ wrong, ‘ren?’‘ he starts to slowly smile at you, his sharp canines showing. 

‘‘nothing, I just didn’t think you would ever ask for something like this.’’  it’s then that you realize after his confession that he relaxes more into the seat and looks at you like you’re his one & only priority. 

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.”

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.