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Stand Down

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They haven’t broken out in a fistfight since that night of their graduation ceremony. Everything before Trost feels like a lifetime ago, but when Eren grabs Jean by the front of his coat to pull in him, he notices that Jean still braces and raises his arm like he’s trying to defend himself. All four years of arguing and fighting as trainees can’t be easily undone. Eren understands if Jean still has that reaction.

It will take a while to get used to, but they’re making progress. One more pull closes the distance and Eren angles his head to kiss Jean at the corner of his mouth. He feels Jean start against him, but he receives a quick kiss in return, and also a complaint. Always a complaint.

“Don’t just grab me like that,” Jean says, face red.

“Why? Because you think I want to start a fight?”

For a moment Jean looks confused, and then relieved. “Yeah,” he says, too quickly, and he looks more embarrassed than angry.

“Are you serious? We haven’t done that kind of stuff in forever,” Eren says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think we’ve even sparred since training.”

He still has a fist over Jean’s coat, though his grip had loosened while they had talked. Eren curls a few fingers under the chest strap, unaware that Jean’s breathing has gone shallow and fast until he steps a little to the side and Jean does a strange, sort of leaning in to follow the motion. 

“We’ve grown up,” Eren continues after a pause.

“So you say,” Jean huffs, but his voice cracks at the last word just as Eren reels him in with a sharp tug. He makes a tiny strangled sound from his throat.

Eren’s only heard the noise a couple of times before, usually after he clunks Jean by accident during a rough kiss or grips Jean’s arms too hard. And Eren, well, Eren has always noticed enough to ease off each time and sometimes even mutter an apology. Jean doesn’t say a thing afterwards, only grumbles and resumes going after Eren’s mouth.

Eren wonders about that now. Ever since they had gotten together he has only been more unsure of what to do with Jean. It’s not as if he has Jean all figured out, and the questions come in surprisingly mundane ways – like whether or not Jean minds sharing a bed, or what he thinks about holding hands, or where would be the best place for Eren to line his body over him when the room is dark and no one is watching.

But watching Jean now – Eren knows him well enough to recognize the flushed face and tensed shoulders. The way Jean looks at him in frustration finally catches his full attention.

And now Eren is blushing too, because he’s about to do something he normally wouldn’t do outside of anger. In one quick motion he shoves Jean against the wall. There’s resistance. Jean isn’t passive and he doesn’t move easy, but he turns with Eren, steps in sync to Eren’s military-trained footwork until he hits the wall with a grunt.

Eren abruptly remembers the last time he had done something like this, just before the battle of Trost, but this time they aren’t having an argument and Eren isn’t shouting Jean down. The context is all different, but Jean stares at him the same way, showing a flicker of recognition before his face turns even redder.

“Do you think about this a lot?” Eren asks, curious, and he doesn’t mean the argument.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jean’s voice is steady and annoyed as ever but his gaze slides off to the side like he knows exactly what Eren means.

With his arm still holding Jean against the wall, Eren presses his free hand over the front of Jean’s pants, deliberately rough. He does nothing to pin down Jean’s wrists, and Eren knows Jean can push him off anytime he wants, fight him off or say something–but he doesn’t. Jean’s hands are braced against the wall, nails scraping over wood as he gives a ragged gasp and juts up against Eren’s palm.

The realization that Jean is letting Eren do this to him sends an unexpected rush, a different kind of thrill that doesn’t come with fighting to win or prove a point.

“So, have you?” Eren asks again, more to gauge Jean’s reaction than anything else. His hand pushing against the outline of Jean’s erection leaves very little to clarify or question anyway.

“Yes.” Jean lets out the word in one quick breath. He sounds as eager as Eren feels, and maybe even more so. Nervous, too. 

Eren hesitates, almost easing off, but Jean bares his teeth and steps forward. 

“Come on,” he snarls, grabbing the front of Eren’s shirt. He twists around, reversing their positions with all the aggression of a real fight. The knuckles of his fist brushes under Eren’s chin, and he grins despite his wide eyes and shaking hand. “You had me.”

Eren has always been slightly ahead of Jean in hand-to-hand combat, but it’s almost too easy countering Jean’s grab and slamming him back against the wall. They’re back in square one, with Eren’s arm over Jean’s chest and the other hand pressing between his legs, but Eren feels a sigh of relief against his cheek even before Jean stops struggling.

This is what you want?” Eren smiles in disbelief, but he doesn’t laugh when Jean’s shoulders draw up. He bears his weight down, fascinated by how Jean thrashes enough to be difficult, but never enough to escape. 

It must have hurt a little, the coarse fabric of their uniform and the hard pressure of Eren’s hand, but Jean moans, struggling for more friction. He turns his head away like he’s mortified, mouthing yes. His eyes screw shut, teeth clenching as he swallows, and he hisses, “I want-“

Suddenly inspired, Eren moves his arm away from Jean’s heaving chest to cup his face, blunt nails digging into Jean’s jaw and turns it so that Jean has no choice but to look at him. Jean’s eyes fly open. The next time he opens his mouth Eren forces his thumb between Jean’s lips, pressing against his teeth. Jean’s tongue flicks over the pad, and he tilts his head to the side with a low whine.

“Yes,” Jean says, flattening himself against the wall except for when he arches his hips into Eren’s hand. He can hardly form words and it sounds like he is wrenching them out from his throat. “Y-yeah. I want this.”

Eren’s mouth goes dry. Up until now he is so used to Jean being demanding, always unafraid and blunt with his words, and Eren likes that well enough, likes it a lot in fact, but he feels the heat go up and down his body when Jean gives another whine. He thinks he could get used to hearing Jean’s voice pitched to a quiet plea too.

Speaking is suddenly difficult. Eren licks his lips, watching as Jean’s eyes become fixed at his mouth. Breathing hard, he nudges a thigh between Jean’s legs. Eren thinks he may understand now, how Jean wants to do it, so he doesn’t raise his leg any higher to meet Jean. Their height difference isn’t much, but Jean bends slightly at the knees and for a moment Eren realizes he could have gotten Jean to do just about anything to rub himself over his thigh.

“Hurry it up, Jean. We’re in the middle of the hallway.” He hears his own voice break and becomes aware of how much he is straining to hold Jean to the wall. Blushing furiously, Eren leans in to rest his forehead against Jean’s and says, breathless, “I wonder how fast you can come.”

Jean whimpers, hands scrabbling up to clutch at Eren’s shoulders. Gripping Jean through the thick fabric of his pants, Eren kisses him, open mouthed with so much force he can hear Jean’s head hit the wall. He feels the hard line of Jean’s cock and runs his palm down, squeezing until Jean stiffens and shudders and has to break away from their kiss to breathe and moan into Eren’s neck.

“Fuck, Eren.”

Watching Jean lose it all by himself, without going with him–Eren doesn’t realize how hard he is afterwards, so heady that he’s dazed and all he can do is stare hungrily at Jean while Jean tries to catch his breath.

“Jean? Jean,” Eren says urgently, unable to support Jean’s slumping weight in his arms.

Jean takes his hand, stumbling and dragging him out of the hallway, into the closest room and kicks the door shut. He drops to the floor. Eren barely has the presence of mind to appreciate the privacy, that Jean had even thought of it. It almost makes Eren wonder if Jean wanted to be out in the hallway, but Eren’s got other things on his mind, like Jean down on his knees in front of him, unclasping the belts around Eren’s waist.

“Let me do this, let me, please, Eren-“ Jean fumbles with the straps, frantic even though he’s already come in his pants. He glances up, face bright red, aware that he is outright begging. “Please.”

Eren can barely nod, but he manages to grasp the curved muscle at the base of Jean’s neck to draw him close. His belts clatter to the floor, pants only partly undone before Jean’s impatience shows and he puts his mouth around Eren’s cock.

The feel of Jean’s tongue on him jolts Eren in the most fantastic way. He buckles over, grabbing Jean’s shoulder, and bites back a moan. It must be from waiting so long and not doing anything for himself, but his knees are starting to wobble and grasping the short strands of Jean’s hair isn’t enough to keep him standing. 

“Ah, ah, wait,” Eren gasps. He looks up, wanting a table to lean over and by now even a wall would do. He doesn’t bother to muffle his wordless noise of protest when Jean stops. The sound quickly turns into a shout of surprise as Jean grabs on to both of Eren’s thigh straps and drags him to the ground.

“I can’t believe this,” Jean mutters, shoving Eren down on his back. He presses a hand over the flat of Eren’s stomach to keep him still. “I’m trying to suck you off here and you’re being picky.”

Eren groans, images of Jean against the wall imprinted in his mind and the sounds he made still ringing in his ears. He shivers again in a moment of clarity – Jean likes being cornered, likes to fight and then yield. He hooks a leg over Jean’s shoulders, the heel of his boot clipping the back of Jean’s collar. “You’re one to talk.”

The crook of his knee fits nicely over Jean’s neck. Jean seems to think so too – he closes his eyes, cheek pressing against Eren’s inner thigh, and lowers his head. “Yeah?” he says, letting out a shaky sigh that almost makes Eren lose it right then and there, and takes Eren in his mouth again. 

Jean is not as rough as Eren’s treatment of him, more clumsy and sloppy than anything, and that’s just fine with Eren. It’s better than the other times where it felt like Jean was trying to impress him, always talking about tongue placement and technique. The memory makes Eren laugh quietly, and he bites his lip to smother it into a moan. 

Jean makes an inquisitive noise below, irritated and offended, judging from the soft graze of teeth that causes Eren to hiss. Not wanting Jean to take it the wrong way, Eren presses his leg further down and he curls his fingers through Jean’s hair, lifting his head to meet Jean’s annoyed look.

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, falling back and arching up when Jean takes more of him in. His hold tightens over Jean’s hair. “Ah, this is good—you’re really, ah-“

It’s as if Jean is too desperate to care, dropping his gaze in favor of making wet, eager sounds around Eren’s cock. It doesn’t take much for to Eren come fast without another thought, gasping at the spike of pleasure and shuddering as it levels out into a dull pleasant sensation that feels almost as good as Jean’s forehead resting against the soft juncture of his hip. He dimly hears Jean spit into his hand and cough, and Eren belatedly drags his leg off from Jean’s shoulder.

Fumbling to get his pants back in order, he scoots lower and pulls Jean up for a messy kiss. Jean’s lips are still wet at the edges and Eren grins into it. 

“So you like picking fights just to lose them?” he asks, one hand around Jean’s neck and thumb pressing lightly at his throat. 

Jean’s face flushes. It takes a while for him to admit it, but he settles over Eren and does it by mumbling into his ear.

“If this is losing then I can’t say I care.”