Eren would probably not admit that he shares the sort of thrill of it, giving something over to Reiner — care, control. That kind of thing scares him, even now, the idea of loss of agency in any way. It turns him on too, though. They aren't safe people, but he trusts Reiner enough. It's almost safety.

He sucks a breath in with a sharp sound as Reiner's mouth presses against him again. As always, he wants anything and everything he can get. It makes it harder to narrow it down, to demand aloud. But he can't pull Reiner to him as easily if he wants to keep his balance.

He decides to be a pain about it, as if he's not the one with the lowest amount of patience. Reiner could outlast him any day and they both know it. But he's Eren, and sometimes everything is a competition.

His muscles tense there under Reiner's mouth. There's a strange sensation, a mix of oversensitivity and numbness at odds with each other. He could lose himself so easily like this, let the world narrow to that contradictory sensation.

"There isn't bad," he says, and means it, his voice catching a little. "But I was thinking higher up."