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broken-freedom · 11 months ago

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camp stillwater is for lovers | ONE-SHOT

camp stillwater had a bit of a reputation, but it was nothing you hadn't prepared for. or so you thought.

❀ content: eren jaeger x female reader, camp counselor au, smutty and sappy end-of-summer fic, mutual pining, outdoor and semi-public sex, oral sex (m! and f!receiving), 'pretty' used as a pet name, skinny dipping, mentions of alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content. reader discretion advised 18+ ❀ word count: ~18k sit down, buckle up, and get yourself a nice beverage ❀ a/n: i actually started writing this over a year ago and happened to stumble upon it again and figured they deserved their happy ending <3

“Dude!”

Eren didn’t register how many ‘dudes!’ it took to get his attention before a sharp elbow jutted into his forearm. His hand slipped out from beneath his jaw, and he would have taken a face full of mashed potatoes if he hadn’t kept the crumb of awareness needed to catch himself first.

He glared down at the culprit: Falco Grice.

Yes, that was his legal name. Eren checked the records last summer.

Falco, one of Eren’s seven assigned campers, sat by his side at the round table, like always.

“Stop staring. You’re starting to creep me out,” Falco muttered as he set down his fork. Eren could hardly hear him over the drone of background conversation, but there was no mistaking his teenage attitude. That part came through loud and clear.

“I wasn’t staring. I was—” Eren interrupted himself with a sigh, realizing there was no use in lying.

“We’ve been here for two weeks, and I haven’t seen you talk to her once,” Falco pointed out.

“I talk to her! We talk about,” Eren paused, stuttering over his thoughts. “Things.”

Falco looked amused, his eyebrows sprung high on his forehead. “Oh yeah? Things. That sounds real interesting.”

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.”

thank you so very much for reading <3

2K notes · View notes

broken-freedom · 1 year ago

Text

LOVER BOY | MINI SERIES

in which eren falls hard for you, his friend-with-benefits who insists she isn't looking for anything serious

PART TWO - mine, just for tonight

⟡ content: eren jaeger x female reader, good old-fashioned college au, fwb-to-lovers, mutual pining/idiots in love, cheesy rom-com, smut fic with feelings, fluff, angst, explicit sexual content, explicit language, alcohol, marijuana, high sex, mild violence, sexual harassment. reader discretion advised. 18+ ⟡ word count: ~5.3k ⟡ masterlist (2/4)

Eren wasn’t sure which mistake he was referencing; he’d made more than plenty along the way, whether it was agreeing to this arrangement or letting it get this far. Too far. To the extent that he was certain you had left your indelible mark on him.

All the same, none of it truly felt like a mistake. If Eren didn’t regret a single time he said yes to sleeping with you, how could you possibly be a mistake?

The only mistake he could foresee was losing you, he thought, so he bottled his feelings. He tried to bury them as deep as they would go, but it turned out he could only dig as deep as a wading pool, unfortunately.

But having you like this—glossy-eyed and moaning and below him—and only like this was better than not having you at all.

“I’m—hah,” you panted. “I’m close.”

Eren’s hand on your waist tightened, fingers grasping to keep you there for him, but he didn’t change the pace he thumbed circles against your clit.

The little room had become too warm to be comfortable. The skin beneath your shirt sweltered and the fabric suctioned to your back. You didn’t bother to take it off beforehand, simply tucking the hem under your chin was enough for what was supposed to be a mid-day quickie. Now it was anything but.

The dorm floor was always empty at this time, making for the perfect opportunity to get together. An opportunity that Eren often took advantage of, especially if it was a bad day.

He didn’t outrightly tell you it was one of those days, but you sensed there was something on his mind he wanted to forget about, even if it was only for the time he was inside of you.

Eren towered over you on his knees, his hips angled just right. Yours were lifted from the bed and rolling to meet his thrusts.

He looked down at you, eyes dark and smoldering with determination to make you fall apart again.

Nearly lost in a hiccup of a breath, you moaned, “Come with me,” because you knew he wanted to.

You were right there, babbling a whispy chant of how fucking good it felt until you threw your head back against your pillow and let your orgasm overwhelm you.

Eren found it equally overwhelming. Gentle flutters of your cunt turned maddening, clenching around the thick of his cock like you wanted to empty him. Three simple, yet hardly innocent, words were all it took to relieve the weight of his impending release. He pinned you to the bed with thumbs dug just above your hipbones, keeping your shuddering body pliant for him to fuck into.

“Jesus—fuck,” he drew out on a strained groan. “I’m coming.”

He rammed into you a final time, leaving your bodies flush with you grinding against his hips, prolonging the pleasure until you were both entirely spent. When he looked at you again, eyes that were once as dark as storm clouds had cleared.

Eren pulled out of you, cursing under his breath at the overstimulation, and rolled to your side. He reached across you to grab his phone, pushing some hair from his face before checking the time.

“Shit, I’m going to be late for lab,” he said as he shot up from your bed.

“Sucks,” you cheekily replied. Today was your easy day, ending at noon on the dot. You leaned back against your pillows, watching him toss out the condom and rush to dress. “Your face is a little red.”

“I’ll blame it on having to run to class,” he said, which he would undoubtedly have to do. He zipped his fly, then started doing his belt. “The new TA started locking the door after five minutes.”

You contentedly tucked your arms behind your head. “Then you better hurry.”

“And you say I’m the mean one.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and gave you a once-over. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you?”

You smiled. “Until then.”

‘Then’ turned out to be approximately three hours later.

“Long time, no see.”

Eren didn’t need to see you to immediately know it was you. He peered over his shoulder to discover you were closer than he thought, approaching his table with intention.

Being that you attended a small-ish college, it wasn’t uncommon for you to run into each other on occasion, but that didn’t make it any less weird. He didn’t know how to describe it, but the feeling was similar to the one you get when you see a co-worker out in the wild—but worse because you were also sleeping with said co-worker.

Poor analogy aside, what Eren meant to say was he always tried to keep these run-ins short and sweet and strictly business. But that didn’t mean he avoided you, even if he really wanted to right about now.

Eren sat at one of those long dining hall tables, down at the very end, with Armin across from him. His friend’s presence complicated things for a couple of reasons.

For starters, Eren now felt he was under the same level of scrutiny as an animal in a nature documentary, with Armin at the ready to dissect every sudden movement or stutter. They had made it about halfway through their lunches, which meant Eren would spend the next half getting a free between-classes lecture from Armin about his findings on the encounter.

By the look of it, Armin—who told the TA that Eren was in the bathroom and absolutely not running late—must have realized what he’d made himself accomplice to. The slightest grimace flickered across his face.

That was the second reason.

“I was just about to text you,” you said to Eren. You laid your hand on the open seat beside him. “Mind if I sit?”

Eren gestured a welcoming hand toward the chair. After a brief introduction—Eren introduced you as a ‘friend from class’ though all three of you knew it was a bit more than that—you sat down.

As you scooched your chair in and made yourself comfortable, you began to explain, “You know my friend Pieck?” Eren knew of her, mainly from what you’d told him, but nodded. “She’s celebrating her birthday tonight at The Library—”

“The library?” Armin appeared utterly confused.

“The bar,” Eren said. Armin mouthed an ‘oh.’

“Turns out her dad is friends with the owners,” you continued. “They let her rent out the place, so she needs to bring in as much cash as they’d make on a regular Friday night. I meant to ask you earlier but it slipped my mind.”

You said that last bit on a lilt, pointing a smile at Eren that made his ears burn hot.

“That’s kind of a skeezy spot for a birthday party,” Eren redirected. He wasn’t lying when he said it. The place was a dive bar without any of the charm.

“Don’t tell her that,” you playfully said. “So does that mean you’re both out?”

“Thanks for the invite, but I can’t,” Armin answered. He looked between you and Eren like he needed to explain himself to both of you. “I have plans with Annie.”

Armin started dating Annie about two months ago. Eren didn’t know her well. She had a tendency to keep to herself.

“I’ll see what Jean and Connie are up to,” Eren said, because there was no way he would show up alone.

“Cool,” you said with a satisfied smile. You planted your hands against the table, but before you pushed yourself up, you turned to Eren, throwing in a quick wink as you said, "See you when I see you."

After you left, Armin patiently waited for Eren to say something while Eren couldn’t even meet his eye.

“You can say it,” he finally sighed, his voice flat and defeated.

“Say what?” Armin asked.

Eren saw past his innocent act. He sneered as he listed everything he’d already heard before, both from Armin and the others.

“That I need to cut things off, that I’m handling this all wrong, That I’m stupid…”

Where Eren left off, Armin failed to pick up. The silence hung between them momentarily before Armin quietly said, “You said it, not me.”

Eren rested his elbows on the table and groaned into his hands. He couldn’t tell if his hands felt hot against his face or if it was the other way around. Either way, he was flustered and left completely unraveled.

Armin was smart enough to take the hint. Whatever ‘advice’ he had for Eren would be saved for another time.

Connie and Jean agreed to come, not that it took much convincing. They would have probably spent their night there or at some other equally-shitty bar. But they would have agreed to go anywhere if it meant they could finally meet you, the girl they’d been hearing about for ages. If it wasn’t for the emotional rollercoaster they’d witnessed from the sidelines, they would have guessed Eren had made you up entirely.

Late that night, The Library was packed by the time the boys arrived, more than they’d ever seen it. There was no doubt the bar would bring in its usual Friday revenue—perhaps double.

Jean leaned into Eren with a hand on his shoulder. “Do you see her?”

Disregarding that Jean was too curious for Eren’s liking, he couldn’t point you out even if he wanted to. It was hard to get a look at—well, anything. The lights were low enough to hide the dingy nooks and crannies, like they believed they could sell this place as anything other than a hole-in-the-wall joint that hosted throwing dart competitions on Thursdays. There wasn’t enough bleach in the world to rid the sickly sweet smell of spilled beer from this place. It permeated the walls and made Eren’s shoes stick to the floorboards.

Against technicolor flashes of light stood the silhouette of a few girls atop the bar. Three of them, to be exact. Amongst them, Eren made out a glittery smile.

Eren gave a nod in your direction. “That’s her.”

Jean and Connie shared this strange look—an offensive one, if you asked Eren. Was it truly that hard to believe Eren had caught your attention?

The laughter erupting from that end of the bar sounded defiant against the bass. The girl in the middle must have been Pieck—Eren assumed as much based on the birthday crown sitting on her raven-haired head. She held a bottle of vodka between two hands, angling the pourer (a telltale sign the bottle came from behind the bar, with or without permission) so the liquor waterfalled into the mouths of those crowding around her.

In a sea of faces, between disorienting lights and getting swept up in your Coyote Ugly fantasy, you spotted Eren. You waved high above your head before climbing down from the bar with a helping hand.

See? He had no trouble catching your attention. If anything, he had a knack for it.

“Eren, hi!” you shouted as you skipped over. Your face lit up when you saw he’d brought company. Once you were close enough that you no longer had to read lips but could hear each other’s voices, you said, “You must be Connie and Jean.”

You were right, of course. The duo introduced themselves, telling you who was who. Between the words you missed, you pieced together why these two seemed so familiar to you: you had a friend in common, a very good one at that. So you proceeded to gush over your shared love of Sasha Braus—their friend since freshman year and your sophomore-year dorm neighbor turned friend after you hid out in her room during one of your roommate’s meltdowns.

Eren hung back, watching Connie outstretch his phone to take a selfie with you that would make Sasha totally jealous, according to him.

The introduction was going better than Eren had anticipated. Neither of his friends had accidentally (or intentionally) embarrassed him. Any minute now, someone else would call for your attention, you would walk away, and they could—

“You know, I bet Sasha would love it if you came to the white party next weekend,” Jean said casually—too casually.

The white party was arguably the biggest school event of the year and it had been for the last who knows how many decades. That was the first thing everyone learned when they stepped foot on campus, and the reason that some, the douchey-frat type like Jean, chose to attend the college altogether. Every year, big-head alumni and donors gathered in the name of philanthropy—a word that sounded pretty on paper but was a thinly veiled excuse to re-live the glory days. But at least it was a party for a good cause.

As callous as Eren made it sound, that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking forward to next weekend. The event would be held at this fancy-schmancy hotel an hour’s drive away, constructed about as close to the beach as building compliance allowed.

Eren actually attended a wedding there once, in the same penthouse venue booked for the white party. Even with rooftop access, the space wasn’t that large, making the whole affair more exclusive than it already was. He only got to go because Jean was the vice president of the hosting fraternity, which was the same reason he held the prestigious honor of bestowing invitations upon those deemed worthy enough. They (the alumni) had blocked an entire floor for the members and their invitees to stay at the hotel overnight. It would be a bad look to have a bunch of drunk college students driving back to campus, wouldn't it?

Eren wondered what he could have possibly missed in the last sixty seconds that led the conversation to this point. When had it turned so chummy between you?

But you appeared just as stricken, your eyebrows giving it away by springing high on your forehead. Jean waved away your surprise with, “I’m only returning the favor for inviting us out tonight,” though it’d be a stretch to say the two invitations were equivalent. “Unless you have other plans.”

You didn’t. You hadn’t had the time to think about spring break plans with graduation right around the corner. Even if you did, you wouldn’t dare pass up the offer. It was on every student’s bucket list to attend a white party before graduating.

“I would love to,” you marveled. Glancing to Eren next, almost like you sought his permission, you asked, “You don’t mind if I come?”

“Why would I mind?” The question confused Eren, who was already thrilled by the idea. Though he was mildly suspicious about Jean’s eagerness.

Oh well. That was something he could address later.

“Thought you might want a break from me, considering this is the third time I’ve seen you today,” you teased, giving Eren a light elbow. In the same breath, you finally addressed Pieck, who called your name a second time after you ignored the first. You excused yourself with a quick, “The birthday girl needs me,” and just like that, you were sucked back into the excitement.

“Oh, yeah. You’re fucked.”

Eren’s head snapped to Jean. Before he could ask what that was supposed to mean, he felt Connie’s hand slap the middle of his back, hard.

“Three times? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Connie said with a strange admiration.

“Once was at the dining hall, then the third time was now, dipshit,” Eren clarified.

“You fucked in the dining hall?” Connie’s eyes widened. But upon further thought, his face scrunched with disgust. What could possibly be sexy about a musty, century-old dining hall?

Jean knocked on his friend’s head. “Do you even have a brain in there?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I’m using it right now,” Connie defended. “Jean, where would you bang in the dining hall? Personally, I’d pick—”

After exchanging a look, Jean and Eren went to get drinks, with Connie trailing behind, shouting for them to wait up.

Exactly two beers later, when Eren decided it was time for a third, you appeared again. You were at the bar, leaned up with an elbow on it, presumably waiting on your order. The only obstacle between you and your drink was some guy vying for your attention. He looked like a douchebag, but other than that, there was nothing else remarkable to say about him.

Eren’s pulse quickened; he could feel it hot beneath his skin. But as quickly as the feeling washed over him, he cooled it with a deep breath. There was no use in getting worked up and jealous over what wasn’t his to begin with.

That didn’t mean he looked away. He couldn’t. Not because he was curious, more like he was watching a train wreck—the longer he stared, the more miserable he felt, and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight. But as the seconds ticked by, Eren found he was no longer wallowing in his self-pity; something was off.

He noted the intimidating size difference between you and the stranger—how he loomed over you. You were shrinking, backing away only for him to encroach on your space again.

Eren hesitated. Were you really uncomfortable or was it that he didn't want to accept what he saw? He didn't know the answer to that, which probably meant he was creating problems where there were none. He couldn't go around making rash decisions off some knee-jerk feeling.

At least, that was what Eren told himself, up until the douchebag placed a hand on your waist, then lower, and groped your ass. You shoved him away.

Eren couldn’t think of a time he’d seen you like that. Maybe he didn’t even think it was possible; you’d always seemed so impervious to him. But right then, you looked vulnerable. Absolutely stunned, whether it was from your anger with the asshat or your embarrassment from the attention accumulating around you—or both.

That was when Eren realized he wasn’t making it up, the moment your eyes locked with his. They went big, more white than iris, silently screaming, ‘Get me the fuck out of here!’ So he didn’t overthink it this time; he actually wasn’t thinking at all as he pushed his way to you.

He all but put himself between you and the creep. Your chest lightened a little, you could finally take a proper breath again. Your escape route was in sight: Eren would wait with you until the bartender returned with your drink, then the two of you would get the hell away from here and forget this ever happened.

And that was how things unfolded—at least at first. Eren asked if you were okay, even dropping your name to make sure the asshole got the message loud and clear.

He did. It just wasn’t well received.

He straightened out as if he believed it made him taller, like he wanted to browbeat Eren with his presence alone. Despite the snort he gave, he didn’t sound amused in the least.

“What are you supposed to be? Her boyfriend or something?”

It would have been perfectly reasonable, preferred even, for Eren to lie then. A little white lie that would do more good than harm. You wouldn’t have batted an eye at it.

But he didn’t. There was a delay in Eren's answer. In that split-second, he convinced himself that a measly ‘yes’ would get misconstrued. That somehow, some way, you’d hear his confession in that single word.

Eren’s brows twitched. When he finally opened his mouth, he only managed the words, “No, but—” before the guy socked him in the face.

“Does it hurt?”

You ran the tip of your index finger over his temple and toward his cheekbone, where a watercolor bruise painted his eye. It was a murky color, the color of water after you’d scrubbed the paintbrush clean, with shades of black and purple—maybe even some green.

“No,” Eren lied as he winced. The tender skin beneath his eye crinkled like paper beneath your touch.

You bought a soda from the vending machine in the lobby of your residence hall and made Eren use it as a makeshift ice pack. He did as he was told, but only held it there for a silent minute before giving up. He had it resting on his leg now.

You took his wrist and brought the can back to his face before it became lukewarm and you’d have to buy another. He flinched again and you whispered a quick apology. You plopped onto your bed, sitting at the edge just beside him, quietly watching your swaying feet.

You mentioned the silence not because you felt awkward or took it personally but because it was just another fact of the matter. You didn’t mind the silence, not with Eren.

Eventually, he sighed and asked, “Is it bad?”

You shook your head. “It could be worse.”

After the prick swung on Eren, his buddies yanked him back—the situation would have been a whole lot better if they’d done that earlier. They needed to keep a leash on that thing, and you made sure they knew it, too. But despite your bark, you didn’t want Eren to get his ass kicked by three dudes, so you held him back just the same. You locked your arms around his with a hold no firmer than a shout of ‘cut it out!’ But Eren was one to listen, even to the quietest of pleas.

A security guard rushed to kick out both boys, warning that he was doing them a favor by only kicking them out—and he was right. Even if it was just a slap on the wrist, it was also an undeserved fist to the face. Though you knew you weren’t at fault, the guilt still weighed on you. The guy who was always there for you, no matter the cost, had done it again.

“Thank you for stepping in,” you quietly said. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

Eren brushed it off. “I just wish I got a hit in.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t. You could have gotten yourself in serious trouble,” you reminded.

Eren scoffed. “He’s the lucky one.”

“That right?” you teased. “Because you would’ve knocked him out if nobody stepped in?”

“Damn right.”

You laughed because you knew he was being serious. He smiled for the first time since you left the birthday party. A real smile. Big enough that it tugged at his fresh bruise and pulled a faint ‘ow’ from him.

“God, I’m an idiot,” Eren said with a dejected laugh—but at least it was a laugh.

“I know.”

You draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into some sort of a hug, one where you rested your chin atop the back of his head. He looked like he needed it.

You shut your eyes, smelled his shampoo.

“What time is it?” Eren asked. He sounded as sleepy as you felt.

You blinked a few times before reaching for your phone. “Just past midnight.”

He shed your arms. Neither of you addressed the length of the hug. He sat upright and said, “I should get going.”

Before you could think of the consequences, you blurted, “Stay,” stopping yourself short of snatching him by the wrist and dragging him back to bed. You inaudibly cleared your throat. “You’ve been drinking. It’s late. You took a punch for me—” There were a million reasons he should stay. “Please.”

You watched his willpower flicker. His eyes drifted between you, the floor, and the window overlooking the route to his dorm.

“We could smoke? I picked some up yesterday.” Your voice dripped with persuasion. You crouched to the bottom drawer of your cubby and rifled around. You revealed your infamous tea tin—one he’d surely recognize by now. You held it on display for him, raising a tempting brow as you bragged, “New strain,” as if either of you cared about that sort of thing.

Eren gave you his answer by pushing open your old, rickety window. You could never manage to get it yourself.

You began to light the candles spread about your room, all three of them, only burning yourself once. Eren picked a spot for himself on the floor and you joined him, watching as he kindly packed a bowl for you to share. He handed it to you to take the first hit.

What would normally happen next was easy enough to predict. And it would have tonight, if not for the incident.

Admittedly, it was times like these when you enjoyed sex the most. You liked how you felt then. When you weren’t fixated on the show—the production and performance that was fucking—but when you were made conscious of how the wooden stage felt beneath your feet and how the lights warmed your face and left white spots in your vision. How Eren’s hands traversed your body like he wanted to make topographical maps of you in his mind; the delicious heaviness of his mouth on yours. Time moved slower. You moved slower. Unhurried as you touched and tasted each other, not worrying about the finish line because you had let yourself get lost in the journey.

You looked at Eren then, straight into his hazy green eyes, with all these thoughts whirling in your mind, and you didn’t know what to think.

You brought the piece back to your lips, lit it, and took a final, deep drag before it was cashed. You scrounged together any incriminating evidence and tucked it back in your cubby. Eren shut the window and pulled the blinds down while you went to blow out the candles. Their burnt wicks and heady curls of smoke masked the stench well enough.

Though it was not constructed for two, you squeezed to share your bed with Eren. It’d fit you both before, but tonight, it felt snugger than you remembered.

You slept restlessly, if you even slept at all. Minutes passed, maybe even hours. All the while, you stared at the ceiling, making constellations from its dated popcorn texture in what little streetlight shone from the window.

You suspected Eren wasn’t asleep either. He confirmed the hunch after you flipped to your side, away from him, and he pulled you in with an arm around your waist. His hand nestled beneath your tank top and pawed over the soft skin of your stomach.

Before you could decide what it meant—if you wanted to leave his hand there or not—he started kissing you, from the cusp of your shoulder to your neck. Long kisses. With an open mouth and nips at your earlobe. You felt every sensation at the base of your spine. Another bloom of fire, another tingle of electricity—they coaxed your back into an arch, pressing your backside against his half-hard cock.

Not a minute later, you had both slipped out of your bottoms. You were naked from the waist down, in an oversized tee you had hiked out of Eren’s way. His cock lay against the back of your leg until you lifted it, making room for him to push inside you. Deep enough for you to feel the stretch of taking him. Your breath hitched in your throat and left a bleary moan in its wake.

You let him take you then, slowly, with his hand still flattened against your stomach to keep you close. You’d never not used a condom before despite being on birth control. You’ve had your mouth on him, and his on you, but hadn’t felt each other like this. You’d thought about it, of course. How much better it would feel without a rubbery barrier keeping him from you. You craved it more often than you wished to confess.

Eren pressed a groan into the nape of your neck, his breath breaking over your skin and warming what was already on fire. You reached a hand behind you, grasping and grabbing at him however you could, almost as if you feared he might fade away. Your fingers laced themselves in his hair and you didn’t let go.

The world spun around you, your mind blank to everything except how good your body felt—how good it felt to be full. Practically overflowing. There wasn’t enough room inside you for his cock, buried between your legs and stuffing you to the hilt, over and over; his two fingers, plunged past your lips with the pads of them on your tongue like a compressor; the feelings, big feelings, you hadn’t anticipated. All you could do was burst.

You came then. Though it felt like lit fireworks or an explosion or whatever silly euphemism was preferred, there was a blissful silence inside of you.

On the outside, you smothered your face with a pillow. You didn’t want to get in trouble for smoking and breaking quiet hours.

“Come inside me,” you whispered on a flimsy exhale. It didn’t sound like you. You almost wouldn’t have believed you were the one who said it if not for how badly you wanted him to. You wanted him to fuck you through his release instead of his hand, just to prolong the fullness.

Eren curled himself around your back, shifting inside you. The tip of his cock began hitting deeper than before. Your cunt squeezed around him, soft and wet and bringing him to climax. He bit a moan into your shoulder, his voice tight as it vibrated through your bones.

You nearly had to remind yourself to breathe. He consumed you, your every thought, every fiber of your being, if just for a moment. The blunt of his teeth against your skin and the mark they’d leave, his cock throbbing inside you and spilling warm release—it was all so dizzying.

You muffled another whimper with your pillow.

You wanted to face him, craving to look him in the eyes and kiss the bruise he’d earned for you. The thought made your stomach do somersaults, so you only stared at your desk with your back to his chest.

Eren’s hand dipped below the blanket. His fingers skimmed along your front, down between your legs. Your eyes flitted shut and a gasp parted your lips. You were hot and swollen, sensitive to the finger he pushed inside you and, with it, his cum. Heat prickled across your cheeks—worse after he pulled your panties up for you.

You breathed hard and in sync, bodies sleep-laden at last, from your heavy eyelids to your limbs that were too lazy to clean yourselves. But messy sheets and tacky skin didn’t concern you much.

For the first time, you fucked Eren with more than just your body; your heart was all tangled up in it, too. The feeling terrified you.

Tonight, you needed him with a desperation you didn’t know existed. Not to satiate some primal desire within you but desperate for the assurance that he was still there and he was okay and he was safe in your bed, with you.

You didn’t know how it happened, but gradually, yet all at once, you knew exactly what you wanted. You couldn’t believe you had missed it for so long.

What you had with Eren was such a fragile thing, easily shattered by acknowledgment. You didn’t want to say goodbye, not yet, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he deserved better—if you deserved better—than to go on pretending as though there was nothing between you.

The answer eluded you but the ache persisted. For now, you would maintain the status quo. You would continue to dance your delicate dance. To question it now would be pointless; your gut was already swarming and you were beginning to think you might overheat.

You kicked a foot outside the blanket and hoped for sleep to come easy, not counting sheep but the breaths against your neck as Eren hid his face in the crook of it.

The next morning, you woke slowly. You lay there, eyes closed, and swore you could still feel his heat against your back. But when you finally roused, you found Eren had left, and he must have taken your troubled thoughts with him.

masterlist | more to come ♡

#imma come back to this!!!!!!!!#eren x reader

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