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softjaegerhours · 3 months ago

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give it to me like you need it, baby | zayne (lnds)

❅ tags ; afab + fem!reader (referred to with she/her several times), established relationship, vague depiction of medical injury, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, unprotected sex, reader is very spoiled skjdds, 18+

❅ wc ; 5.7k (???????????)

❅ a/n ; i started playing this game 48 hours ago. i am out of my mind. sorry. please no spoilers for now JKSDJD. also shoutout to @acerathia who imbued me with even more zayne brainworms that resulted in this KJDSKJ

this is just porn. no plot like fr at all!! dont think too hard about anything!!!! also sorry if the characterization is inconsistent </3

❅ synopsis ; refusing to take your prescribed pain meds, you suggest a different type of pain relief from zayne to heal your injuries.

“You should be more careful,”

Zayne’s voice is even. It’s the first thing to greet you when you wake up from your most recent round of medication. There’s a pleasant clarity that comes with every tone and intonation, that somehow manages to trample the thick fog in your brain after waking up from your last round of narcotics.

The pain has settled, from a sharp throb to a dull ache but it’s there. You glance around the room for some way to tell the time. There’s still light out but your limbs feel heavy, so you must’ve been asleep for a while.

“It’s almost evening,” Zayne says, like he’s reading your mind. He sits at the stool at your side with an expression, eyes softened with worry. “An hour or so till sunset.”

“Right,” You reply. You wince as you sit up, bruised sides still tender and head heavy. You rub your eyelids, a deep pressure in your skull—just behind them, as you readjust to the remnants of light in the room. “Shit, it hurts.”

“It’s been enough time between doses, so you’ll need to take them again soon for the pain.” Zayne says.

Your lips curl instantly, shaking your head. “No way. I don’t want to take them again.”

Zayne stares at you for a while. “You wouldn’t have to take them at all had you taken the necessary precautions in the first place so I fear there’s little choice in the matter. The pain will be hard to manage without the medications,”

“Are you nagging me, Doctor?”

He shakes his head. “I’m treating you. Your injury is substantial and I don’t want you to do anything to aggravate it. Nor do I want you to suffer needlessly” And then, a little softer. “I don’t like prescribing such a strong dosage either.”

“But you did.”

“Because my patient is severely injury and I’m worried for her quality of life,” Zayne says, firm but not unkind. “Perhaps if said patient took more care to preserve themselves, I could prescribe something lighter.”

“Are you holding a grudge against me?”

“Against your recklessness, yes.”

You pout unthinkingly. “I’m sorry. Don’t be angry.”

Zayne reaches his hand towards the corner of your mouth, pressing his thumb into the line of your frown. “I never said I was angry. Just worried. Don’t trouble yourself.”

“Then who should I trouble?”

Zayne doesn’t reply to you, though he does smile light enough for you to catch sight of it in the dim lights. He goes back into physician mode before you get a chance to say more, and you’re too tired to give him your usual banter.

There’s a beat of silence between you where Zayne is writing something down on pen and paper while you daydream aimlessly. He’s probably documenting your injuries for record keeping in the system. Encountering an anomaly in your line of work is deceptively common but there hadnt been any exact records on anything like your specific incident. Bits and pieces of stray information but that’s all. Nothing cohesive. While it appears to be normal albeit impressive bruising and broken bones, the unit still thought it best to be monitored.

(That, along with Zaynes general tendency to fuss over your state, mean you’ve been in this position for a few weeks now. Zayne has taken one of his usual work days off just to tend to you.)

Despite the effort you've put into recovering, sustaining a massive injury has made you feel stir crazy and has not gotten rid of the pain entirely - causing you to wince when you move in the wrong way way. Noticing the way you deflate, Zayne looks up from his papers. He pauses, studying you and the large bruise up your side.

“Take your medicine”

“Don’t wanna,” You say petulantly, eyes closed.

Zayne pauses then sighs as you stubbornly turn him away. He weighs his options before moving on to focus on your injury. You’re conscious of the hand he has underneath your shirt. How delicately he moves, scarred digits touching like you’re porcelain. You don’t think he does it on purpose, or because he underestimates you. Rather, treating you preciously is the easiest manner of being for him. Still, it does make you pout.

“That’s a nasty bruise even for your line of work. Don't be stubborn.”

You shake your head.

“I’m tough. I can take some pain. It’s better than being groggy at least. Feels like my heads been full of cotton for weeks.”

“You say that because the medication is working. It’s dulling the pain enough for it to be tolerable even though it can feel unpleasant at times. It’s going to worsen again, gradually, if you don’t keep on the dosage schedule.”

You open your eyes again to look at him. It’s hard to refute his points, even more so when he makes it so obvious his concerns lie solely in your well-being. But you really, really hate the way it’s making you feel. You feel like you’ve been hit by a crr in general but the added sluggishness from narcotics is too much. Enough to be stubborn and childish about even the most sound advice. You shake your head again, trying to think of a solution to appease you both.

It doesn’t last long since you quickly get lost in another train of thought as a result of your brain fog.

When your mind catches up with reality, your eyes flutter open to a worried looking Zayne. Half-conscious, you feel keenly aware of his presence. Of his hands resting on your sides and the heat that lingers when he moves them. His hands are covered in tens of small scars, fingers thick and long while managing to be elegant. A precision to him. To his features, to his movements, to his actions.

“Something on your mind?”

“Hm…?”

His lips quirk. “You’ve got a look about you,”

“I was just thinking of alternatives on how to manage pain.”

“Another medication you mean?”

You shake your head, smiling crookedly.

“There are different kinds of pain relief, right? Something more… holistic.”

“Holisitic?”

Opting to answer his question another way, you let out an exaggerated noise of relief. “Your hand feels nice doc,”

Zayne, quick on the uptake, hums to himself not showing any reaction.

“Does holistic feel like the appropriate vocabulary for what you’re implying?”

“Maybe… something more physical.”

“I see.” He hums. “And how would something that puts strain on your body improve your injury?”

“Improving my mood is also an important part of recovery.”

Zayne sighs. “Please be more mindful about my position as your doctor.”

“You sound like you’re considering it when you don’t reject me outright.”

“Tsk.”

He sits up from the stool he’d been sat on while tending to you, instead choosing to sit beside you in bed. You’re propped up in a mess of pillows and blankets, pressed close to the wall. There’s more than enough room for Zayne. The bed creaks under his weight as he stretches his legs, back against the headboard. You turn your head to look at him.

A long silence falls between you, not uncomfortable. Heavy rather, with tension. Zayne, quick to indulge you, brings a hand up to cradle your face. His hand is cool against your hot skin, big palms cupping your cheek. He hums under his breath, hazel-green eyes tracing the outlines of your features. You keen into his palms and he laughs again, deeper. Richer.

“I’m not against the suggested methods perse,” Zayne says slowly, holding your gaze while his thumb traces your lip. “Only that it may encourage your recklessness, should I give it to you. You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, I suppose needed some more stimulus isn’t far fetched.”

“I’ll be more mindful.” You promise, giving him the wettest puppy eyes you can while you nod enthusiastically.

“I won’t forgive you otherwise.”

He leans in. Just enough to tease. You frown.

“Zayne,”

His eyes meet your again, heating shooting through your spine.

“Impatient, foolish, reckless. What should I do with a patient like you?”

“Spoil me.” You reply shamelessly. His lips quirk up. “I take well to bribery.”

“Is that really the most effective method?” Zayne pretends to ponder.

You nod. “Promise I’ll be on my best behavior, Doctor.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Zayne says, tone soft with affection. He holds a hand out for you. “ Come.”

Zayne tells you to move, but bears no intention of making you do so on your own. He wraps an arm around your back carefully - mindful of the tenderness in your ribs and side. He draws you into his lap with ease, your head tucked against his chest with his chin resting atop of your head. Your legs are drawn across his lap lazily, voice reverberating through your tired limbs as he speaks.

“Comfortable? No pain?”

You make an affirmative noise to him, cozying up in the way least straining to your body.

He’s patient as he undresses you from the waist down - and you allow him, basking in the silent attention. In tattered sleepwear and half-sick, you barely move as the fabric rolls and peels all the to your knees - lazily lifting your legs to take them off along with your underwear in one swift go. A wave of embarrassment tugs at you, self-conscious as you nuzzle further into Zayne’s arms. Paradoxically finding comfort in the same person whose making your feverishness burn brighter, you let your hand clench weekly in his shirt.

Naked, Zayne brings the hand not supporting your back up to your face. He holds your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilts your head towards him - a chaste kiss promising more. Your eyes lock for a heartbeat until you look away, shy. He lets you lean back further, lazier - until he’s at the right angle to hover over you to kiss you all the better.

Contrary to the other ways he touches you, most times Zayne kisses you is fierce. Once, twice - to ease you into the pace of his mouth before you find your lips pulled open. It’s the only thing that he does this way, needy from the start. Your lips press to his sweetly, a noise of surprise slipping that Zayne swallows in the next go. His lips are soft and pleasantly cool to the touch.

Your hands grip tighter trying to find purchase in the overwhelming want of it. Slow and sticky kisses that make the back of your feel fuzzy, the kind that lingers in the minutes you’re parted. His breath is warm, faint with the smell of mint.

The coy, cool demeanor you took suggesting this, fades—melts every inch of you. Your body goes slack with arousal underneath the assault, his tongue slipping against yours deeper and deeper. He gets breathy when he kisses, a longing sigh as you keen up into his mouth or suck his tongue - your body eager to be as wrapped up in the attention as you can.

There’s something about this in particular that makes you feel pampered. Tucked away, safely. Zayne is familiar with the act of bending to your whims and your affirmed relationship has only made him more easily compelled.

His free hand rests just above where your body longs to be touched. Deliberately above the navel, he slides over the softness of your belly. Traveling up slowly, his hand squeezes both sides of your chest. You can’t get enough air to say anything about how good it feels, so you whine instead - canting your hips to air for friction. Zayne laughs softly against your mouth.

Less turned on, you think you would bicker with him about it. Turn your nose up at him for being so rude. Melted in his arms like lust liquified, you don’t know if you gave it in you.

Deft fingers tweak your nipples underneath the thin fabric of your shirt. Zayne notices it for the first time touching you. He makes a face, faux disapproval causing his lip to curl.

“Wearing clothes like this with everything so visible. On top of your injury, you’ll get sick.”

The words carry no weight or bite, playful at best. As if to prove a point, Zayne goes back over your clothes to touch them again. His thumb rubs across your hard nipples, your body shuddering from the rough texture at the fabric alongside Zayne’s fingers. He rubs them carefully, slowly. Pays attention to each one before settling on teasing the side more sensitive to the other. He knows the way to touch you, please you down to the minutia. It makes you so wet you can hardly stand it. You squeeze your legs together with a frown.

“I said spoil me. This is torture.”

Your words are petulant even to your own ears. Zayne barely bites back a smile.

“I wonder if your words about torture will hold up against your body if I touch you,” He kisses your temple to placate you, a hand at your waist to prove his point. “Patience,”

“I can’t be patient,” You say, frowning. Zayne gives you an imperceptible look before leaning down, his voice close to your ear.

“Should I help you then? Tell you how good it’ll feel if you sit through it obediently and allow me to have my way with you, hm? You like the sound of my voice right,”

You let out a mewl. Zayne laughs.

“Sit then, and wait for me to take care of you.” Zayne says gently. He kisses the corner of your mouth, trailing his kisses down to your jaw and neck. Bites so softly at the junction of your neck and shoulders, his voice a salve to your pent up lust. “Let me soothe the pain with pleasure.”

You can’t be sure if it’s mercy or not, that your demands make Zayne more relentless in his fondling of your body. His hand doesn’t go further than your waistband. But they squeeze and grope all where he can reach. Cycling through hot, deep kisses that leave you breathless - toes curling up in fluffy socks unconsciously aching for more—and sweet, loving pecks to encourage you to put up with it a little longer.

What keeps you tethered is the promise of pleasure, the assurance that Zayne always gives you what you ask for no matter how long or how much he may tease you until he does. It’ll be yours since you wanted it.

You’ll manage to cum when he feels like it’s right. So you play into it. Beg sweetly in between sighs to touch you. Need you, need your hands, wanna feel even better.

You like feeling Zayne get impatient, no matter how gradual or how slow. It never loses the thrill. The subtle gestures that his control is slipping away for you so slowly. Always worth the full brunt of your effort when you see his resolve slowly unravel - becoming sloppier in short doses. Sometimes, you get lucky enough to push him far enough and let go completely.

“Spread your legs,” Zayne pants, desperate to get his hands on you. You do instinctually, gasping as soon as your swollen, throbbing clit brushes so lightly against his middle finger. His fingers are longer than yours - bigger and thicker. He rubs against your slit gently, feeling for how wet you are. It makes a noise as he slides through your folds, fingertip resting at your clit as he gives it a soft stroke.

“Zayne,” You gasp his name. “Please,”

No words follow your demand, but Zayne always makes good on his promises. Before you can think to whine again, he finds the spot that brings you pleasure the quickest and rubs soft circles into it. Steady pace paired with a complete understanding of the ins and outs of your body. Your pussy flutters in reply, whole body jolting from the contact. Pleasure seeps into you like the running flow of water, subtle but steady - the heat of your body melting the preciseness of Zayne’s ice. You feel a brief pain in your ribs, but its overwhelmed by the pleasure fizzling through you as Zayne rubs your clit in circular strokes.

You rut against his hand, aching for more but Zayne keeps pace.

You wonder how something can feel so different at the hands of someone else. How something you usually do alone and feel alright pleasure from can make you feel like this - like you’re burning from the inside when all he’s using is his hands.

Zayne, sensing the buildup before you do, presses your mouths together again. He’s gentle this time but you’re desperate, a hand holding onto his face while you get nearer and nearer to cumming.

You know you’re on the edge when your muscles begin to tighten, mind rousing to the rush of dopamine and oxytocin. You pant his name sloppy as your mouth tests the syllables. Over and over and over as Zayne brings you to the peak. He’s quiet, laser focused on where his finger play with your needy pussy. Everything inside of you goes taut before you begin to unravel. Deep waves of rapture wash over you, from head to toe. Your cum spills, flows in thick sticky strands until you’re so wet you can feel it between your thighs and ass.

You take a shuddering breath upon your first release, trying to settle your mind through the aftershocks of powerful orgasm

You barely get a chance to breathe before you feel Zayne’s hand on your waist again.

“You’ve a few more for me, right?” Zayne says, voice latent with unprecedented lust. You feel something hard pressing against your thighs, making you squirm. “Only once won’t be an effective treatment for a patient in so much pain.”

You don’t get a chance to recover your strength before you feel Zayne’s hands come down between your legs. Despite your efforts to run from it, Zayne holds you firm with his arm. Holds you in a way that won’t let you escape from it no matter how much you may try. B

efore you can finish riding your first high - the pads of his fingers find your clit once more. He goes to touch you indirectly, aware of your sensitivity and only heeding so much caution

The lack of direct friction is frustrating. Like he’s deliberately avoiding touching you where exactly you need while still making you feel good, a forceful staccato to an orgasm rather than a direct line to one. It feels good, it does— but it’s not enough.

It makes you want more. With Zayne, you can’t be sure if its intentional or not.

Your mind is too cloudy to speak to him, so you whine instead. Zayne has a talent for making you like that. Touching you in a way that renders your speech useless, forces you to lean on what you know. Leaves you nothing to ask him with except your body, your carnality, to get what you want. Everything you could possibly desire is yours if you shed your pride and ask. If you can’t ask, all you need to do is what you’re doing now—spread your legs and let him see just how much of a mess he makes you. Zayne makes it easy for you. Fucks you in vulnerable, precise measures. He moves with the confidence necessary to wield a scalpel, uses it to take you apart perfectly before mending you to put together.

No one knows how to build you up again how Zayne does. Who else is paying such close attention?

Your voice comes out shaking when you come around your second consecutive orgasm. The previous grogginess has been completely washed away, taken over by a stronger feeling of euphoria. Cumming again in such rapid succession blindsides you. Your mouth is fallen open. Silent, broken moans sound as the sensations starts to stir again in your core. Your belly is honeyed with lust - the muscles in your calves tensing hard as you thrash your legs around aiming not to lose your mind to the pleasure. Zayne is the only force keeping you upright in his arms and on his lap.

He tsks, half between sympathetic and teasing as you squeeze you thighs around his hand. “Stop squirming. You’ll hurt yourself. If your treatment proves to worsen your injuries and then we’ll have to stop—effective immediately.”

Your voice comes out so unfamiliar and desperate, you barely know it as yours. “No, no, no don’t stop please, Zayne—”

“Then,” His voice is raspy against your ear, deeperer. Stained with lust. “Hold still and cum.”

You force your body as still as possible at Zayne’s word. Your hands grip tight onto his shirt, stretching the material out with how hard you grip. You cry out as the knot inside of you untangles and frays.

Zayne kisses you right as you get to the edge, forcing his tongue deep in your mouth to keep you from biting through your lip. You cum as soon as you feel your tongues touch, kissing deeply.

You curl up this time in reaction to the gratification, your whole body folding in on itself. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing as you do, aching for something more. Like electricity sparking through the water, your pleasure is constant yet splintering.

Pin-point accuracy leaves your mind completely muddled in the aftermath. When you manage to look up at Zayne, desire mixed with longing and affection puff up in your chest. It’s the way he looks down at you in the afterglow. Such sharp, intense eyes and strong features. Almost shattered, ruined with a restrained lust. Despite himself, despite being at his mercy, despite being weakened from healing wounds - Zayne holds you gentle. Puts you first even at odds with himself.

You crane your neck up half tired to kiss him first. It’s nauseatingly gentle but doesn’t do enough to express your feelings. A mix of gratitude and compliance founded in mutual trust. You want to give yourself to him over and over and over - enough to wash away his worries. At the same time, you want him to want you so madly he abandons his usual restraint.

Ultimately, your mind settles on the desire to make him feel good in whatever way you possibly can. You rub deliberately against the hard-on pressed against your thigh. Mellowed from cumming twice, you speak your thoughts frankly.

“Fuck me.”

He shakes his head. “You’ll really aggravate your injuries that way. I’d …. like too but I—”

“Zayne,” You repeat, serious. “Fuck me, please.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes closed.

“Want you to make me cum again,” You say, then add. “Wanna cum while you’re inside of me.”

“You—” He takes in a sharp breath. “You can really be so—”

“Zayne,”

“Don’t call my name like that,” Zayne says on a sigh, rubbing your lower lip. “I’ve already conceded. Quit your pouting.”

You smile at him, eyes wet with sincere joy. He lets out a strangled groan, followed by a sigh. “Given your injuries, you being on top would be best as to not cause anymore pain to you. Move gently.”

“Will you help?”

Zayne nods at you. “You don’t have to ask.”

As promised, his touch is gentle as he takes you off his lap. His hands and arms give the necessary support to keep from further agitating your wounds- supporting your spine to ease yourself onto his strong lap with. It’s a wide fit to get your thighs over his lap but Zayne takes precaution.

Zayne pushes you to stand on your knees while you straddle him. He makes you lean on one side of him, your torso resting on one of his shoulders while you’re pressed slightly against the headboard. Uncertain of what he’s doing, you yelp in surprise when you feel his hands slide between your legs. One on your hips, securing you - the other one teasing your slit.

“It’ll hurt if I put it in right away.” He clarifies.

“I can take it.”

Zayne is quiet at that, choosing to ignore both your whining and the soft sway of your hips in a poor attempt to get him to fuck you quicker. Meticulously, Zayne slips his fingers into his mouth covering them with saliva first, before drawing them through the mess of slick between your thighs. Making his digits as wet as possible, he rubs your pussy until he finds your tight hole. You can feel your cunt pulse at the contact, taking in a soft breath as he eases the first finger inside of you. They’re thick. Thicker than yours by enough that you can feel some resistance as he works just his middle finger into you slowly. Patiently fucking it in and out until he’s all the way down to knuckle.

When it’s easy to fuck you on one, he adds another - repeating the process until both fingers fit inside of you easily. The stretch leaves your breath hitching, thighs trembling slightly in anticipation.

“One more should be—”

“No,” You say immediately. “It’s enough already.”

“You know very well it’s not.”

“I can take it,” You coax, sitting back down properly onto Zayne’s lap, half naked. You rub yourself over the strained fabric of his sweats, wetting them with your own arousal. You’re pleased when you notice his own pre-cum staining them too. “Zayne.”

Rubbing his temple, he holds you by your hips. You wrap your arms haphazardly around his neck as he casts his eyes towards you. Holding his gaze, you frown—face flush and lips pouty. He sighs, a noise of discontent slipping as his hands reach back and squeeze your ass - drawing you even closer to him. He closes his eyes, forehead resting on your shoulder.

“What good is it taking such good care of your body as your physician when you’re so quick to throw it away in front of me, hm?” Zayne scolds half-heartedtly. You smile at him sheepishly, your eyes meeting.

He gives you a look, silent, encouraging you to take what you need first.

Your hands are shaky as they reach the front of Zayne’s waistband, tugging until they slide down his thighs - along with his boxers in one smooth motion. Your thighs pressed together at the now familiar sight of his cock. Your thighs weaken at the sight of it, impressive length and girth - curved just right and too heavy to stand on its own. You reach out to touch it, a soft stroke to feel how hard it gets. It makes you gasp, feeling how it throbs between your fingers. Zayne suppresses a groan as your palm smooths over the tip.

“Have you changed your mind?”

You shake your head rapidly. Zayne lets out a breathless sigh against your collar bone.

“Stubborn thing you are.”

“Zayne,” You peek at him through your lashes. “Can I?”

He holds you close to him, careful not to grip you too hard. “Slowly.”

You nod your head, pulling yourself forward on his lap to line the tip of his cock with your entrance.

A long, shaky breath leaves your lips as you feel the tip of his cock slip against your folds. Adjusting to be sitting up a little more, you ease yourself down on Zayne’s hard length. You feel your pussy flutter in anticipation of being full. Placing our hands on Zayne’s shoulders, you ever so slowly slide yourself down on his cock.

You both take a sharp inhale as the head of Zayne’s cock stretches your cunt open wide. Just the head is overwhelming, your thighs trembling as you do your best to take all of him inside of you. Your voice tremble, working yourself down inch by inch - desperately trying to adjust. His cock is big, too big - always more than you remember it being. You feel it up to your throat.

So focused on taking it, you nearly miss the sounds leaving Zayne’s mouth each time you manage to take a little more of him. His voice is trembling, hot against your skin as he muffles each groan and sigh into your shoulder. His hands are tight with restraint as he holds you, trying his best to hold himself together.

It takes you a beat or two. Long, restrained moments of silence before your body finally takes it. You moan as you bottom out, cock stretching your needy pussy out completely. You stay like that for even longer, longer than you would normally.

“Aren’t going to move?”

You give Zayne a look. “I don’t know if it’s possible.”

“Spoiled girl.” Zayne tsks.

Wordlessly, he uses his strength to slide you off of his cock in one go. Whining at the sudden feeling of loss - he fucks you back onto him. Carefully placing his hands on the most unmarred parts of your hips, Zayne fucks you on his cock with the same ease of a toy.

After a few thrusts, your body adjusts to the feeling. You can feel the specific motion when it goes from a dull ache to a dull feeling of pleasure. Your waist goes completely weak in Zayne’s grasp as he fucks his cock up into you with controlled movements. Undulating just enough to make you gasp. Practiced with the full weight and gravity of his hips - but painstakingly measured so that it doesn’t hurt. It’s not slow, or fast - but a rhythmic inbetween that makes it hard for your mind to keep up.

If there was such a thing as getting fucked perfectly, you think Zayne is fulfilling it by all measures.

The way he’s fucking the warm, slick heat of your cunt feels good beyond word. It’s relentlessly consistent, head sliding against your sweet spot with ease. Precision guides his thrusts like it does everything else. Euphoria suffuses through your limbs as you get yourself fucked open on it.

The sound of his echoes in the room as Zayne keeps pace. You’re moaning loud now, shameless as the sensation builds and builds and builds but never quite hits its peak. You feel so full, but you need something else to get yo over the edge.

“You want to cum like this, didn’t you?” Zayne says, matter-of-fact despite the level of calm in his voice. His face betrays the composure in his voice. “Touch yourself. Make yourself cum in front of me.”

Shakily, your hand finds itself between your bodies.You find your swollen clit for the last time and carefully rub between your fingers. It makes you gasp outright, nearly falling forward from the impact. Pleasure no longer plateauing, something bounds again inside of you.

You can feel it coming this time. On the edge from the minute Zayne started fucking you to now, your body has been winding itself tighter and tighter until a knot formed right in the swell of your belly again. There’s something about this one that feels so much deeper then when you came before, something more overwhelming to it. He fucks you in places you could never reach, makes you cum like that too.

You throw your head back noisily when you finally match your fingers to Zayne’s throat.

“Fuck,” You hiss, trying your best not to lose the feeling. “Zayne, g-gonna—”

Zaynes voice borders on a growl. “Cum for me.”

One last time, your body finds release as Zayne holds you down on his cock and grinds into your g-spot while you cum again. Your nails dig into Zayne’s shoulders, holding onto him for life as your body wracks with shivers once more. Your last orgasm is the most overwhelming, the aftershocks feel like they last for minutes at a time instead of a seconds.

Zayne cums quickly after you, panting into your neck like he’d been waiting the entire time for you to cum first before finishing. You feel content as his seed spills into your pussy for the last time.

A beat of silence passes between you before you speak again,

“Thank you for the medicine doc,” You hum. “I feel all better.”

Zayne simply goes along with you like alwys. “It’s what I’m here for.”

After getting fucked good enough to knock out only a few moments after you came a third time, you aren’t exactly sure where or how you were going to wake up.

When you do wake up though, your bruised and battered body - while still in dull pain, is being cradled by someone else. You feel clean too. Your clothes are changed and your skin is cool to the touch like someone’s been wiping you down and keeping an eye on you.

Yawning, you open your eyes to the familiar sight of your partner. Zayne glances down at you without word. You feel his arm around your waist like a secure weight, tucking yourself into him.

Zayne’s first question is predictable. “How are you feeling, love?”

Your heart flutters clumsily at the overt tenderness. “...Hurts a lot. It’s bearable though.”

Zayne laughs as he notices your attitude. “What happened the my bold lover from a few hours ago? So bold she invited me to bed without hesitation?”

Your face feels hot, warmth tingling from your ears down to your neck. “I was doped on a lot of narcotics so somehow… and sex is different from this you know?”

“This…?”

“Acting like a proper boyfriend when you’re always so…” You trail off. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

“Are you saying I’m usually an improper boyfriend?”

“Yes,” You say flatly, though you dont really mean it. Zayne chuckles. “At least you’re less…”

“Kind? Honest?”

“Playful,” You reply. Shy, you bury your face in his shirt. “You’re not honest but you’re always kind. You’re in too good of a mood.”

“Will you be more comfortable if I act as usual?”

You wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him gently. “This side of you isn’t so bad either.”

“I’m spoiling my very unruly patient.” He hums. He leans down, a hand cradling the back of your head as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “So listen well to doctors orders and rest a bit longer. We’ll have dinner together in a bit so just rest.”

As if caught by a spell, the mention of rest against has your eyes feeling heavy. You nod without thinking about it.

“Hm… ‘kay,” You mumble. “Thank you… for taking care of me….”

Zayne waits a beat or two before pressing another kiss to your temple, waiting for your breathing to even before he speaks.

“As if it’s something to thank me for,”

#he drives me insane i love him sm #he’s so perfect #lads zayne #coming back from the dead just to express my love for this fic

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softjaegerhours · 4 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. 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

#bloomy never disappoints <33 #can’t believe im JUST coming across this now #eren.reblogs #eren fluff #eren smut

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