One of these days, Reiner might have the wherewithal to make Eren beg. He might set that as a goal, refusing to allow himself to indulge Eren until he hears please pass those lips. But Reiner is driven by action more often than not, striding forward regardless of the obstacles barring his way. He's a person who dives headfirst into danger, protecting his loved ones before his mind fully processes the risk. He'll leap before he looks, act before he can talk himself out of it.
Could he resist until he heard a "please"? Potentially. Could he restrain himself even if Eren said other things instead? Probably not.
Because it's hard enough to resist when Eren moans, the sound vibrating against Reiner's fingers, a mere hint at how incredible it would feel on his cock. Reiner's lips are parted, breath coming quickly despite himself, every ounce of his attention locked on Eren's face, Eren's body, Eren's heat. And as Eren says those words—I want you, spoken without shame—Reiner's remaining defenses crumble.
Pathetic, really, for the Armored Titan to collapse beneath the weight of someone wanting him. But Reiner is still human underneath it all. Isn't that why his mind tore itself to pieces?
Eren tightens his grip on Reiner's cock, and it's impossible to miss how much Reiner likes it: his hips jerk forward, fingers reflexively tugging Eren's hair, breath catching in a gasp. Another hint of masochism shining through, even if it doesn't quite touch the border of pain.
"Yeah, me too," he confesses, easily, readily, his voice better suited for the darkness of a bedroom than a trash-strewn alley. He's all but forgotten where they are, heedless of the people passing just beyond the pseudo-privacy of piled crates. He leans in, kissing Eren one more time, teeth catching those maddening lips (how can he resist?) as he runs his fingertips over Eren's throat, then down his body, careful not to wipe away the saliva Eren worked so hard to provide.
This would be easier if Eren's back were to him. However, Reiner dismisses that possibility before it even forms into a proper fantasy. There's no way in hell Eren will allow Reiner's teeth unfettered access to his nape (even if Reiner wants it, even if he'd lick and bite that sensitive skin so sweetly)—and besides, he wants to see Eren's face. So he hooks his thumb into Eren's waistband, tugging it down a little more before his hand slides beneath rain-damp fabric, fingers caressing the curve of Eren's ass.
"Raise your leg a little," he says. It's not the best angle for this, but Reiner has dealt with worse while pleasuring himself. He'll manage.
no subject
Could he resist until he heard a "please"? Potentially. Could he restrain himself even if Eren said other things instead? Probably not.
Because it's hard enough to resist when Eren moans, the sound vibrating against Reiner's fingers, a mere hint at how incredible it would feel on his cock. Reiner's lips are parted, breath coming quickly despite himself, every ounce of his attention locked on Eren's face, Eren's body, Eren's heat. And as Eren says those words—I want you, spoken without shame—Reiner's remaining defenses crumble.
Pathetic, really, for the Armored Titan to collapse beneath the weight of someone wanting him. But Reiner is still human underneath it all. Isn't that why his mind tore itself to pieces?
Eren tightens his grip on Reiner's cock, and it's impossible to miss how much Reiner likes it: his hips jerk forward, fingers reflexively tugging Eren's hair, breath catching in a gasp. Another hint of masochism shining through, even if it doesn't quite touch the border of pain.
"Yeah, me too," he confesses, easily, readily, his voice better suited for the darkness of a bedroom than a trash-strewn alley. He's all but forgotten where they are, heedless of the people passing just beyond the pseudo-privacy of piled crates. He leans in, kissing Eren one more time, teeth catching those maddening lips (how can he resist?) as he runs his fingertips over Eren's throat, then down his body, careful not to wipe away the saliva Eren worked so hard to provide.
This would be easier if Eren's back were to him. However, Reiner dismisses that possibility before it even forms into a proper fantasy. There's no way in hell Eren will allow Reiner's teeth unfettered access to his nape (even if Reiner wants it, even if he'd lick and bite that sensitive skin so sweetly)—and besides, he wants to see Eren's face. So he hooks his thumb into Eren's waistband, tugging it down a little more before his hand slides beneath rain-damp fabric, fingers caressing the curve of Eren's ass.
"Raise your leg a little," he says. It's not the best angle for this, but Reiner has dealt with worse while pleasuring himself. He'll manage.