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.
Maybe in another life they could have fought the world and its order together. Maybe in another life they could have understood one another sooner. Maybe. Maybe.
For now they have to settle for this, broken pieces they can alternately harm each other with or try not to harm each other with. Softness found in surprising places. The thought of what they could be if they weren't already something else, enemies, monsters, unforgivable.
Eren has long given up on the idea of life, of what comes after, because there is no after. There was only his terrible end, the end of the world and all its ills. Or not? What does he know? He hopes some of them survive it. He desperately wants them to, to give his insane actions some meaning. They have to live. But he can't.
For a few moments here, he almost contemplates it. This place. The after. The connections he has unwittingly cultivated with other people, ties he tried to sever and couldn't. Even Reiner doesn't only hate him. Even Reiner could be someone Eren would protect. He was once. Funny how everything always circles around again.
Naive as hell, that's right.
Reiner moves away, slowly, and Eren lets him. There's some reluctance in the way his own hands move, letting go or falling away. He has both feet on the ground again but it feels less steady somehow. They're both a mess (in many ways).
He looks down at his hands, his clothes.
He pulls off his shirt and uses that to clean up a little before he fastens his trousers again. Was that smart? Not at all, but it's not like he had a towel. Whatever. Levi probably won't be home and even if he is, is he really going to ask questions about why Eren rolled up missing a shirt? Unlikely.
But Eren isn't even considering that.
He holds his shirt out to Reiner. Better than nothing.
He doesn't trust himself to speak. He knows how he is. He'll ruin this shaky peace if he speaks.
Unstable, unsteady, broken pieces grinding like gravel, the awful desire for intimacy slowly slicing his insides. Reiner tries to ignore it. He's good at ignoring things. Good at pretending things are okay until he comes to terms with them or forgets his ills altogether. Good at carrying on, pressing forward no matter the circumstances. He can deal with wanting Eren, right? It's not so different from before, is it?
It is different. Eren moaning, gasping, touching him, kissing him, saying his name while coming—of course it's different. Reiner knows what Eren tastes like now. Knows the heat of his skin, the heat inside. That alone would be enough to change things. But that's not what hits hardest. That's not what hurts.
Eren removes his shirt, using it to clean himself. Reiner stares blankly at Eren's chest, all the bare skin he didn't have a chance to touch or taste. Will he get a chance later? They must get another chance, right?
Then Eren holds out his shirt like a bizarre peace offering. Reiner blinks at it, then wordlessly accepts it. Cleans himself off with those same mechanical motions. Fastens his trousers. Hands the shirt back. Raises his head.
That last act is a mistake.
His eyes meet Eren's, gold holding green. Reiner's throat tightens. He wants to lean in and kiss Eren again, starting this encounter anew. He wants to say thank you for the shirt. He wants to ask why and doesn't even know what he'd be asking about. He wants so much, and he can't have any of it.
In the end, Reiner gives Eren a nod, acknowledging all the things he can't say. Then he takes another step back, turns, and starts to leave, picking his way past the refuse.
It's different for Eren, too. As soon as he'd recognised Reiner, he'd planned something much different. This is better? Though whether it lasts is anyone's guess. He doesn't know if he wants it to last, but he wants this again. No, not this. More.
This is dangerous, he knows, the gap in knowledge and his own inability to root himself in time and Reiner's inability to remember which him he is. But danger has never been a deterrent for people like them.
He takes his shirt back, lifts his gaze.
There are so many words between them left unsaid. Eren's not sure where he'd start. A flood of lies? A flood of truth? That one is worse. Something in between? Likely.
He takes a breath but Reiner turns away and saves them both from whatever it is Eren might say. His hands clench in the soiled fabric so he doesn't do something absolutely idiotic like reach out again.
He watches for a long time after Reiner leaves, past and present melded like it always is, before he snaps out of it enough to also leave.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dreamsofwings) wrote2020-11-19 01:04 pm
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.
no subject
For now they have to settle for this, broken pieces they can alternately harm each other with or try not to harm each other with. Softness found in surprising places. The thought of what they could be if they weren't already something else, enemies, monsters, unforgivable.
Eren has long given up on the idea of life, of what comes after, because there is no after. There was only his terrible end, the end of the world and all its ills. Or not? What does he know? He hopes some of them survive it. He desperately wants them to, to give his insane actions some meaning. They have to live. But he can't.
For a few moments here, he almost contemplates it. This place. The after. The connections he has unwittingly cultivated with other people, ties he tried to sever and couldn't. Even Reiner doesn't only hate him. Even Reiner could be someone Eren would protect. He was once. Funny how everything always circles around again.
Naive as hell, that's right.
Reiner moves away, slowly, and Eren lets him. There's some reluctance in the way his own hands move, letting go or falling away. He has both feet on the ground again but it feels less steady somehow. They're both a mess (in many ways).
He looks down at his hands, his clothes.
He pulls off his shirt and uses that to clean up a little before he fastens his trousers again. Was that smart? Not at all, but it's not like he had a towel. Whatever. Levi probably won't be home and even if he is, is he really going to ask questions about why Eren rolled up missing a shirt? Unlikely.
But Eren isn't even considering that.
He holds his shirt out to Reiner. Better than nothing.
He doesn't trust himself to speak. He knows how he is. He'll ruin this shaky peace if he speaks.
no subject
It is different. Eren moaning, gasping, touching him, kissing him, saying his name while coming—of course it's different. Reiner knows what Eren tastes like now. Knows the heat of his skin, the heat inside. That alone would be enough to change things. But that's not what hits hardest. That's not what hurts.
Eren removes his shirt, using it to clean himself. Reiner stares blankly at Eren's chest, all the bare skin he didn't have a chance to touch or taste. Will he get a chance later? They must get another chance, right?
Then Eren holds out his shirt like a bizarre peace offering. Reiner blinks at it, then wordlessly accepts it. Cleans himself off with those same mechanical motions. Fastens his trousers. Hands the shirt back. Raises his head.
That last act is a mistake.
His eyes meet Eren's, gold holding green. Reiner's throat tightens. He wants to lean in and kiss Eren again, starting this encounter anew. He wants to say thank you for the shirt. He wants to ask why and doesn't even know what he'd be asking about. He wants so much, and he can't have any of it.
In the end, Reiner gives Eren a nod, acknowledging all the things he can't say. Then he takes another step back, turns, and starts to leave, picking his way past the refuse.
no subject
This is dangerous, he knows, the gap in knowledge and his own inability to root himself in time and Reiner's inability to remember which him he is. But danger has never been a deterrent for people like them.
He takes his shirt back, lifts his gaze.
There are so many words between them left unsaid. Eren's not sure where he'd start. A flood of lies? A flood of truth? That one is worse. Something in between? Likely.
He takes a breath but Reiner turns away and saves them both from whatever it is Eren might say. His hands clench in the soiled fabric so he doesn't do something absolutely idiotic like reach out again.
He watches for a long time after Reiner leaves, past and present melded like it always is, before he snaps out of it enough to also leave.