It was a threat before, that hand on Reiner's nape. A threat, a temptation, a taunt, a promise, simultaneously dangerous and irresistible. Now, it's … tender. Gentle. Intimate in a different way than it was before. Intimate in a way that twists that raw, jagged thing lodged in Reiner's chest, filling him with a sharp ache for something that can never be.
Why didn't Eren come with him that day? Why couldn't he have taken Eren home without any more bloodshed? Why couldn't they have this?
We shouldn't stay here. For so many reasons, they shouldn't stay here—the very least of which is some stranger stumbling upon them with their cocks out. But what happens when they move? What happens when Eren pulls his hand away, and Reiner stops kissing Eren's neck? What then?
For so many years, Reiner has worked toward a singular purpose: retrieve the Coordinate and return home. He chased Eren without even knowing it, then chased him more fiercely once he did. What does he do now that he can't knock Eren out and haul him back to Marley? Where does that leave them?
Like this, apparently. Holding each other. Speaking softly, touching gently.
If things were different, is this what they could've been?
Reiner squeezes his eyes shut, face still hidden in Eren's neck. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay close, their bodies pressed together, the threat of violence temporarily abated. He wants to cradle Eren in his arms and comb his fingers through that long hair. He wants Eren to keep wanting him. He wants to just be.
Such naïve desires. So fucking stupid.
Reiner is the Armored Titan. He doesn't get to just be.
"… Yeah," Reiner agrees, lips still so close that they brush Eren's skin. Slowly, he moves: his thigh leaving its place between Eren's legs, his hand releasing its grip on Eren's ass, his lips withdrawing from Eren's neck. He shifts back maybe a half step, lingering but no longer pinning Eren to the wall. Then his hands go to his trousers, starting to put his soiled clothing back in order, his motions mechanical.
cries with ðŸ˜
Why didn't Eren come with him that day? Why couldn't he have taken Eren home without any more bloodshed? Why couldn't they have this?
We shouldn't stay here. For so many reasons, they shouldn't stay here—the very least of which is some stranger stumbling upon them with their cocks out. But what happens when they move? What happens when Eren pulls his hand away, and Reiner stops kissing Eren's neck? What then?
For so many years, Reiner has worked toward a singular purpose: retrieve the Coordinate and return home. He chased Eren without even knowing it, then chased him more fiercely once he did. What does he do now that he can't knock Eren out and haul him back to Marley? Where does that leave them?
Like this, apparently. Holding each other. Speaking softly, touching gently.
If things were different, is this what they could've been?
Reiner squeezes his eyes shut, face still hidden in Eren's neck. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay close, their bodies pressed together, the threat of violence temporarily abated. He wants to cradle Eren in his arms and comb his fingers through that long hair. He wants Eren to keep wanting him. He wants to just be.
Such naïve desires. So fucking stupid.
Reiner is the Armored Titan. He doesn't get to just be.
"… Yeah," Reiner agrees, lips still so close that they brush Eren's skin. Slowly, he moves: his thigh leaving its place between Eren's legs, his hand releasing its grip on Eren's ass, his lips withdrawing from Eren's neck. He shifts back maybe a half step, lingering but no longer pinning Eren to the wall. Then his hands go to his trousers, starting to put his soiled clothing back in order, his motions mechanical.