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After what felt like weeks, he encountered Eren.
Their meeting was swift. Eren stared at him for a few drawn out, nauseating moments - and finally said he wanted to meet later, alone, in Armin’s room. Armin agreed - willing but cautious. Armin wanted to ask what for, but he let the concern in his throat die out. He could wait. After months of longing for any sort of interaction with Eren, what was a few hours more?
And so he sits, anxious but also excited that something, something is finally happening between them. He remembers. He remembers the way he felt he understood Eren without Eren having to verbalise. The simple exchange of knowing glances that made the other instantly feel recognised, comforted.
Armin misses all of it. For a period, they were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something wondrously divine. After Armin was reborn - after this curse was bestowed upon him - they sought comfort in one another. It felt innate, as if his soul had always quietly beckoned the other, discreet but aching. Armin remembers kissing and holding Eren as he cried and shook with fervent anger and misery.
He remembers for every time he comforted Eren, Eren would always return the favour - holding Armin so close to his chest that Armin could listen to his heartbeat drum as he whispered sweet nothings and reassurances into his ear. Though Eren lacks the way of words that always came naturally to Armin - it was perfect. It was perfect and sweet and exactly what Armin needed, because it came from him.
He remembers having to stop himself from instinctively reaching out to touch Eren around people. They never clarified or told anyone what they were becoming, and Armin never felt the need to. It was an extension of what they always had - and it always felt right. And oh, Armin thinks, how did something so magical become so gut-wrenching, so twisted. He curses himself, through all of this he has been naive enough to remain an optimist. He ignored the blatant signs willingly, allowing himself to believe in something better. How foolish, how utterly childish of him.
His racing thoughts are cut through abruptly when he hears two firm knocks on the door. He feels his body stiffen, but forces his body to relax. He cannot show his anxiety to Eren, not now.
“Come in.” he says, cringing at how high his voice comes out. Eren lets himself in at his permission, and their eyes meet. Armin feels his heart thrum hard in his chest, and he internally begs for it to ease.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Eren says curtly, pushing the door behind him shut. Armin nods.
Eren makes his way over hesitating for a few seconds before sitting down on Armin’s bed. It’s getting darker minute by minute with the fading sun, illuminated by a dimming orange hue. It’s pretty, Armin thinks, and wishes he had the time to savour it.
“Do you remember the curd my mother made me when I was ill?” he asks, and Armin blinks, the question is asked so casually and is so unexpected it takes Armin a moment to answer.
“Yes?” He returns, pauses for a moment, then continues, “The one with milk and onions?”
“Yes,” Eren smiles at Armin’s recollection, and Armin feels his heart tug. He can’t remember the last time he saw Eren smile. “That’s it. It tasted so bad, but she made me drink it all. I’m pretty sure it made me feel more sick.”
“I remember her saying it was good for the flu, something about the protein in the milk and the antioxidants in the onions,” He replies, “maybe your father told her something about it.”
Eren shrugs, contemplative for just a moment. “Maybe.”
“Eren,” Armin starts, finally managing to look him in the eye, “You didn’t just come here to ask if I remember your mother’s curd dish.”
Eren stares for a few seconds, his expression enigmatic before it falters, his gaze averting away from Armin’s. “No, I didn’t.”
“Then what is it, Eren?”
“I want to talk to you- to be with you,” he hesitates, “I miss you- but we can’t talk about everything going on... I won’t.”
Armin frowns, he wants to argue, but something halts him. He misses Eren so intensely, so much that he wants to be selfish. He wants to put his morals and principles aside and ignore the triumphant issue at hand. He wants to talk to Eren about menial things, about fond memories and about the books he has read and the rumors that have sifted through his tight-knit group. He is aching for some sort of normalcy - even if it is entirely feigned.
“Oh, Eren,” he sighs, full of sorrow, “I wish you never pushed me away in the first place.” His voice is so small that Eren can barely make out what he said. Eren edges closer towards Armin, feeling a pang of guilt at his words.
“I know I'm... I'm sorry.” he says, trying to find words to continue, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m making things right.”
On your own? Without me? Without Mikasa? Without any of us? He thinks. Armin frowns and turns his head away, opting to stare at the wall instead. “Mikasa. She’s really upset because of this, you know.”
Armin feels anger swell in his gut, sudden and hot. He knows that Eren is aware of how important he is to Mikasa - they both know her heart is breaking because of this - but Armin is the only one who sees it up close. She has lost weight, has become even more elusive. If divine-judgement is real, Armin thinks, maybe he does deserve this. He has cheated death more than once - he has reached his dream of seeing the ocean - and still he has wanted more and craved. He has killed the innocent; but Mikasa - she is unequivocally the most selfless person he knows. She doesn’t deserve this.
“I’m going to talk to her tomorrow,” Eren offers, is all that he offers.
Armin, for the second time, bites back his words. It is Eren’s fault it is this way. He feels betrayed, but most of all, he feels abandoned.
“Now in the meantime-” He once again scoots closer to Armin, sitting thigh to thigh with him. “Let me forget.”
Armin, instinctually, lets his head rest on Eren’s shoulder, and it even surprises him, how quickly his anger melts at Eren’s contact - like its satiating something deep inside him he didn’t know was there.
If Eren is as surprised, he doesn’t show it. He just wraps an arm around Armin, his thumb gently soothing his skin. Armin closes his eyes, hand he hates himself for being so selfish and weak and giving, but simultaneously, he gives himself permission. He has spent so many restless nights in bed, feverishly indulging himself in thoughts of Eren, sick with want.
“I missed being this close to you.” Eren admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
Armin keeps his eyes closed, feeling his body go lax with comfort. “I missed this, too.”
“I think about you all the time, Armin. Every night, every morning.”
Armin swallows, and though Eren doesn’t say it, he knows exactly what he means. The kissing, the exploring, the mindless affection that consumed both of them.
By this confession, Armin knows it's what he wants, too. Part of him wants to reject him, to tell him that he can’t just push Armin away for months upon months only to call him back in when he feels like it.
Yet, he also can feel the sincerity in Eren’s voice, and the mere thought Eren wanting him in the same way has his heart thrumming. And so he raises his head and looks at Eren, and studies the face that is more recognisable to him than his own. He was always too embarrassed to admit it to anyone, that he always thought that he and Eren were like two puzzle pieces slotting together, a perfect fit. What he lacked, Eren made up for. And in return he always knew how to reign Eren in. Lately, however, he wonders if he was wrong all along. Still, he can pretend.
Armin isn’t sure who initiates it, but their lips meet and it feels like coming home. Their kiss carries purpose, they are not shy of one another despite their time apart - their craving too heavy to inhibit them. Eren tastes exactly how he used to and it almost makes Armin giddy - makes him feel like he can cling onto what it was like before. Of course, it is different. Eren is taller and broader, he has to lean further down to meet Armin. Eren’s hands glide up, one settling on Armin’s waist and the other on his shoulder. Armin heartbeat echoes throughout his body, feeling himself pulsate at Erens touches. He knows already that he is gone, that he has no control over himself. Not when it comes to Eren, his oldest friend, his first friend. As the kiss becomes more hungry and desperate he knows that he is tied to his need for Eren, that it will consume him whole. He will allow it to.
Eren breaks the kiss apart, and Armin has to stop himself from chasing his lips again. Their eyes meet and Armin finds himself breathing short puffs. Eren keeps his hands on Armin, rubbing tiny circles into his skin, the motion so gentle but titillating that Armin wants to melt into it.
“We don’t have to go further, if you don’t want to.” Eren says, and Armin huffs out a small laugh.
“What makes you think I want to stop?” He asks, suddenly emboldened, and shifts so that he is on his knees. His legs move to slot between Eren’s. He allows himself to admire Eren’s face, his eyes scanning each detail. His hand moves to run his fingers along Eren’s now-long hair. Pity, he thinks, he has always liked it short, but he doesn’t say this aloud.
He moves his hand down to idly run his thumb along Eren’s cheekbone. It is in this moment he knows that Eren is one of the most beautiful men he has ever known. Beautiful in a dangerous, disastrous way.
He decides he wants to say this. “You’ve always been so beautiful, Eren.”
The slightest blush creeps up on Eren’s face, and it thrills Armin to know he still has that effect on him. “Don't be so stupid. Have you seen yourself?"
“I don’t want to think about myself,” Armin whispers back, “just you.”
He leans down to capture his lips again and Eren lets him, opening his mouth to Armin, gentle and willing. Their motions quickly become graceless, more driven by instinct and need than anything else. Armin shifts himself to sit fully on Eren’s lap, his hands tangled in his long, unruly hair. Eren elicits soft, sacred noises that only furthers Armin’s intoxication, his need - and he can no longer think straight. He considers briefly that he may regret this tomorrow, but with Eren’s strong hands exploring underneath his nightshirt, with Eren setting kisses all along Armin’s neck and jaw - he cannot find it within himself to care. He murmurs out tiny moans, his hips involuntarily moving against Eren’s body.
"I missed this," Eren whispers out in the nape of his neck, "missed you."
Armin's entire body tremors under Eren's arms at the soft bites and licks at his neck - he barely remembers to breathe, let alone respond. It feels like too much already. Having Eren, having Eren like this. He has ached and craved and fantasised about this for so long.
He gently pushes Eren back by his shoulders so his head moves back. Their eyes meet again and Armin feels a twinge of embarrassment as Armin moves to take off his nightshirt. Eren smiles and follows suit.
Eren pushes Armin off of him, laying him on his back. Armin gasps a little at how sudden it is, and looks up at Eren with wide, bewildered eyes. Eren offers a stupid, warm smile in return and Armin feels his body relax at it. Even after everything, the distance, he still wholeheartedly trusts Eren.
He lets Eren take off his pants, helping him by kicking them off once they are down to his knees. Eren lowers his head, peppering kisses as he trails down Armin’s body and then god- his mouth is on him. Armin gasps, his hand clasping over his mouth as he feels Eren kiss and lick the head of his cock. Eren holds him in place, pinning his hips down firmly into the mattress. Armin closes his eyes and tries to keep quiet, breathing heavily into his own palm.
He whines the tiniest bit when Eren pulls his mouth away, this hands keeping the grip on Armin's hips. Armin looks down at him, flustered and annoyed - keen to know why the hell he stopped.
“Why are you being so quiet? It’s not like you.” Eren says, raising a brow.
A beat of silence, and then Armin speaks.
“... Mikasa’s in the next room, I don’t want her to hear.”
“Like she doesn’t already know.”
Armin glances away, embarrassed. Mikasa does know. He confessed to her about his relationship with Eren many months ago - on a night where his emotions felt too raw and pungent - something he couldn’t suppress. He cried in her arms and told her that he thinks he’s in love with Eren- that he touched and kissed him and told him that he wanted to be by his side forever. She was quiet and attentive, stroking his hair as he sobbed quietly into her arms.
Once his emotions mellowed and he lay in her arms, worn out and dreary. She told him that she's known that there was always something there between the two of them. Armin responded in a slew of apologies, embarrassed and ridden with guilt. She smiled and told him that he had nothing to apologise for.
But Armin wasn’t stupid, he knew that she had - has - feelings for Eren. He knew it instinctually for as long as he could remember. It was selfish of him, and this, what he is doing now, is a byproduct of his selfishness. He lets his friendship and loyalty to Mikasa fall to the wayside for Eren, to satiate his desire, his lust.
The guilt that swells in his gut quickly dissipates when Eren’s mouth moves back to his cock - bringing Armin back to reality. His head bobs with a little too much vigor - more than Armin would usually like, yet it still has him writhing and gasping in pleasure. Eren continues to hold him still, and Armin knows that Eren wants to have total control over him. He knows that he will let him have it.
“You want this?” Eren asks, his voice dark and deep - with a lilt of curiosity to it. His breath coasts over Armin’s cock, and then he uses his hand to slowly pump him.
Armin’s head swims as he begins to feel delirious by the pleasure. He doesn’t reply immediately, barely registers that Eren has asked him until seconds later.
“Yes- so much. Hah... I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“You think of me while we were apart?
Armin swallows, he feels like he is in a haze. “Of course. Every time I touched myself I…” his voice trails off. Eren seems sated by the answer and his mouth moves back onto Armins cock.
The pressure begins to build and Armin feels panic stir up inside of him because he doesn’t want to get off like this- he doesn’t want this to end so soon. He reaches down and tugs at Eren’s hair insistently, trusting that Eren will get the message. Eren pulls his mouth back, deliberately slow which makes Armin tremble beneath him. He sits up on his knees and looks down at Armin. He feels smug with how wrecked he looks already.
“What do you want, Armin?”
“I want you inside me.” Armin says, honest and earnest. Cutting right to the point has always been a forte of his.
“God. Okay. Fuck- yeah.”
Armin sits up and reaches for Eren, the urge to kiss him suddenly burning within him. While kissing him hard, he reaches blindly towards his drawer and grabs a small tube of oil. He pushes the bottle into Eren's hands, growing impatient.
Eren observes the bottle as he sticks his fingers with the oil, cocking an eyebrow. "It’s nearly half empty..."
"Shut up."
Eren grins and Armin wilfully ignores it, already positioning himself on the bed. He lays down and bends his knees, spreading his legs wide. It feels strange, after all this time, but Armin notes to himself that it should feel more stange, more wrong to be doing than it does. Yet it feels natural - as if he and Eren were made to do this. As if it were inevitable.
Eren maneuvers himself into the right position, slicking his fingers with the oil. It happens quickly and Armin closes his eyes in response to Eren pressing a finger inside of him, his eyes shutting quickly. Eren moves slowly, his eyes focused on Armin’s face, studying his expression. Armin knows he's being careful, that he doesn't want to hurt him. Eren’s gentleness that he - seemingly - solely reserved for Armin has always been something Armin has appreciated.
Once the initial discomfort alleviates, he opens his eyes and looks up at Eren, who is looking at his body with such enamour that it makes him feel shy. Eren continues fingering him, adding a second finger, and as Armin holds back moans he begins to notice Eren's patience cracking. Eren’s face is as descriptive as a book, easily giving his intent away. That, and the feeling of his cock pressed up and straining against Armin's thigh.
"I'm- I'm ready."
Eren moves at once, pushing Armin's legs up further and positioning himself between them. Armin sucks in a huge breath as he slowly presses his cock inside of him. Eren’s head drops and he lets out a low curse. Its’ overwhelming, painful and delicious all at once. Armin cries out, against his own will, and he bites his lips to quiet himself.
"T-tell me when I can move." Eren manages, holding Armin's legs in place.
"God- I don't care. Move. Fuck. Just fuck me."
Eren grunts and begins to move his hips - and Armin can tell he is restraining himself - trying to keep his motions tactile and rehearsed. He wants this to last as much as Armin wants it to, but it doesn't feel like enough. He wants it to be as intense as possible.
"M-more. Eren. Harder."
Armin’s eyes are trained on Eren, seeing how his eyes darken at Armin’s request. Eren ups his movements and it takes the air out of Armin’s lungs. Eren’s nails dig into Armin’s thighs. Any remnants of sense or rationality have been wiped clear of his mind. All he could do is feel. Feel how Eren moved inside to him - hear the grunts and heavy breath coming from the man on top of him. He wants to bottle the sounds, wants to savour the fact that he is the one drawing them out of Eren.
“Look at me.”
Armin barely hears the words, barely registers the fact that his eyes have fallen shut. One of Eren’s hands loses its grip on his thigh, moving to hold his jaw. His eyes flash open and he is met with Eren staring intently at him, his hips still driving into him. Eren’s thumb came up to brush over Armin’s lips, willing his mouth open.
“I want to hear you, Armin. Don’t be quiet”
And just like that, Armin complies, his mouth falls open and he lets out ungodly, wonderful sounds, his eyes unfocused but staring up at Eren as he fucks him. Eren breathes out quiet words of approval, of praise, and Armin feels gratified - happy that he is pleasing him. If he could keep Eren happy - if he could give him what he wants, then maybe he would stay.
Eren moves tactically yet urgently, and Armin shifts his hips slightly beneath him, reaching a certain spot that has Armin contorting, shouting Eren’s name. After all this time - Eren still knows every crevice of his body, how to dismantle his mind into this. His hands cling and fist the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as Eren fucks him senseless. A slew of begs fall out of his mouth, begging Eren to keep going, to never stop.
It can’t last - it can’t possibly last when he is unravelling this quickly. The pleasure mounts deep in his stomach. Tears slip from his cheeks as he miserably tries to suck breath into his lungs as he speaks unintelligibly, trying to warn Eren that he is about to cum.
He cums over both their stomachs, shooting ropes of white, his body lurching and arching at the intensity of it; he cannot help the sounds that come out of his mouth. The peak is unlike anything he has ever felt before and he has no choice but to succumb to it.
The display caused Eren’s movements to cease, watching Armin with such enamour and reverence. His chest heaves as he watches Armin slowly come down from his high, his cock eagerly twitching inside of him.
“You’re so good, fuck. Look at you- came all over yourself without even having to be touched,” Eren almost whines, aching all over as his eyes roam freely over Armin’s body. With his fingers, he gathers the cum that has landed on Armin’s stomach, rises his fingers up to Armin’s mouth. Armin’s eyes are closed, his mouth open as he attempts to catch his breath. He feels Eren slide his fingers into his mouth - and he accepts them, sucking and licking his own cum from Eren’s fingers. His eyes slit open to look up at Eren, looking impossibly wrecked and fucked out.
“Good.” Eren groans at the sight and at Armin’s acquiescence. His hips continue to move. He moves without rhythm - without sense - working off of pure instinct. He drives himself into Armin with hard and fast, hard thrusts until he reaches his own peak - suddenly still - with a loud, delirious groan of Armin’s name as he releases into him.
He pulls out with as much caution as he can muster and collapses onto the bed - half on top of Armin and half not. Armin lays there, one of his hands raising to stroke Eren’s hair as he stares at the ceiling, his chest still heaving.
They lay there for minutes in silence, holding one another as they are brought back to reality. The world seems so far away from them, now, and Armin tries his hardest to live in this moment - to not think about the inevitability of Eren leaving his side once more. He loves Eren. He loves Eren more than anything in this world and he would do anything - almost anything - for him. In that moment he wants nothing more than to be like this forever, for the world around them to fade into nothingness.
He wants to tell Eren this, he wants Eren to know. But the weight of his body on him, the sound of his breathing is so calming and serene that it lulls Armin into a deep sleep, his arms still wrapped around Eren’s body.
When he wakes, Eren is gone.