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Armin unleashed an impressive yawn as he trudged back to the quarters he shared with Jean after what felt like the longest day of his life. He’d spent the whole afternoon pouring over maps, slowly but surely plotting the path for Paradis’ first ever train route. Every day brought with it a new conflict. That day, it was about the cost. That terrain will be too difficult to build on, their budgetary supervisor would say, it’s too expensive, after which Armin would have to patiently explain for the thousandth time that their top priority was strategic viability, and didn’t they know that, despite the absence of troops on the ground and flying boats in the sky, the island was at war?
After his sixth consecutive day of meetings, all he wanted to do was sleep for a century. That was exactly what Hange had sent him home to do when they had seen just how rundown he was. The yawn he’d let out in the middle of his counterargument hadn’t helped his case, so he’d been shooed away to the living quarters, where he now stood before his door, half in a daze, and entered without thinking to knock.
What he saw beyond the threshold woke him up in an instant.
Jean was home, but he wasn’t reading or resting: he was splayed out naked on the bed, his thighs spread wide, one hand working away between his legs, the other on his cock. His chest and neck were flushed, and from his open mouth came a heady moan as he fingered himself. Such was his ecstasy that it took him a moment to notice Armin standing there. He scrambled back against the headboard, his forehead shiny with sweat, his cock leaking against his stomach.
“Armin! Hey,” he said, his eyes wild, his voice pitchy.
“Sorry!” Armin squeaked, and he slammed the door shut.
Armin made it only a few steps down the hallway before he felt too light headed to walk. He leaned against the wall, pressing a clammy palm to his pounding heart. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Jean there on the bed, his hips arching into each thrust of his fingers. A knot formed low in his stomach at the thought. It wasn’t that the sight was unappealing—far from it. But in the six months since they’d started sleeping together, Jean had never once expressed an interest in being penetrated.
Over the course of the next few days, Armin tried to figure out why that bothered him so much. It wasn’t like he was entitled to knowledge of Jean’s masturbation habits. They weren’t technically dating, so what business was it of his what Jean did when he was alone? Then again, they weren’t not dating, either. It was hard to say exactly what they were.
It all started late last winter when Hange had assigned them to gather firsthand intel on the train system in Marley. Jean had been a little surprised that he’d been chosen for the mission, but Armin understood it perfectly: his plans were always improved by the opportunity to talk them through with Jean. Hange saw that, though Jean didn’t seem to. Together they spent long hours riding trains all around the country, investigating their strategic placement and purpose in anticipation of designing such a system for Paradis.
Though things were a little tense at first, what with being inside enemy borders and all, gradually they began to relax into their covert traveling roles, with Jean cracking jokes while Armin shared facts he’d learned about different Marleyan towns as they passed through them. Once, Armin had been startled when Jean lay his head on his shoulder for a nap. Another time, Armin had grabbed Jean’s hand as they raced to catch a departing train. Looking back on it now, it was only natural that things had gone the way they did the night the local inn had only one bed available.
How they ended up living together, however, was hardly so romantic. It had happened a month after their return to Paradis. As the Scouts rebuilt their ranks in the years following their decimation at Shiganshina, space became hard to come by. Thus, when Hange had found out Jean and Armin were “together," as everyone seemed to think they were, they had squealed and said “Great! We can use your room for someone else!”
The needs of the military came first, so neither of them objected to sharing a room, but it didn’t exactly help to clarify their situation. What they were was a conversation they had never had. In fact, there were a lot of things they’d never talked about. Strategy? Sure. Gossip? Sometimes. But the real things, the important things, like Marco’s death or Eren’s disappearance, had never been up for discussion. Armin would try, but Jean would change the subject or he’d decide he had somewhere to be and that was that.
Three days after his fateful discovery, Armin sat on a bench beneath the largest shade tree in the training courtyard and glowered at nothing in particular. At the far end of the courtyard, Jean was currently guiding the newest crop of cadets through the process of taking apart their equipment, cleaning it, and putting it back together again. Armin wasn’t watching Jean or anything. He’d just taken his lunch break in the same place Jean happened to be, that was all.
“Trouble in paradise?” Connie said, appearing at his side so suddenly that it made him jump.
“No,” Armin said quickly. Then he added, as if it would help, “It’s not like that.”
“Coulda fooled me,” Connie said, raising a brow as he sat beside Armin, unwrapping an oil-stained sheaf of parchment paper to reveal an overflowing sandwich. It looked like one of Sasha’s concoctions if he’d ever seen one.
Armin didn’t respond, choosing instead to pick at his long-cold bowl of beans and rice. Connie’s question, simple as it was, had awoken something dark and ugly in the pit of his stomach. The truth was, for two people who never seemed to stop talking, their relationship was itself surprisingly quiet. Most of the advances they made had been wordless, from their first kiss, spurred on by a look that lingered just a moment too long, to the many times they’d slept together, when all it took was a brush of a thumb or a caress of the neck to have them melting in each other’s arms.
Armin had thought he was okay with that. He’d even been comforted by it. After a long day of arguing with one official or another, he’d been relieved to fall into Jean’s wordless embrace. Now, he found himself wondering when the silence he once cherished had become so stifling.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Connie said, yanking him out of his own head. “What is it like? ‘Cause he’s been haunting my room for days, so obviously I was like ‘hey, man, what’s going on?,’ thinking maybe you two had had a fight, but all he said was ‘It’s none of your business,’ even though it totally is my business because he’s in my room—”
“Connie, I don’t—” Armin hid his face in his hands, his cheeks burning. “I don’t know what it’s like!”
“Wait, are you serious?”
Armin peered at him, red-faced with frustration. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
Connie stared at him for a minute that felt like an eternity. Armin watched as his expression changed in increments, first to confusion, then to contemplation, and finally to understanding.
“I see what’s going on here,” he said, smiling the way only a close friend could. “Listen. I’ve got an idea, and I know it’s gonna help you clear things right up with him.”
Armin straightened up. “What is it?”
“Three words,” Connie said, holding up a finger for each: “Get. Him. Drunk.”
“Get him drunk?” Armin repeated slowly.
“Yeah. You know, hair of the ole truth serum.”
Armin scrunched his nose. He was pretty sure that wasn’t how that saying went.
Connie continued on unperturbed. “If you want to know how he really feels, get him drunk and then ask him. It works every time. That’s what I did before I asked him if I had a chance with Sasha.”
“Sasha’s head over heels for Niccolo, Connie. Everyone knows that.”
“That’s what Jean said, too,” Connie said, hanging his head. “I thought it was just a food thing—”
“Everything is a food thing with her.”
“Ugh, I know!” Connie sighed. “But I thought, I don’t know, maybe I could learn to cook? I already know a few recipes. Just last week I…”
Connie’s voice became a fuzzy blur of sound as Armin thought about his proposal. Waylaid love confession aside, he did have a point. For the most part, Jean had two modes: repress and explode. What Armin needed to do was create a scenario in which Jean was emotionally vulnerable, but not inebriated. Maybe then he might be able to get a straight answer as to what was going on between them.
As he racked his brain for ideas, he was struck by the image of Jean’s face from a few days ago, recalling in perfect detail the look of pure ecstasy he wore as he came undone by his own hand. He smiled as an idea began to form.
“Thanks, Connie,” Armin said, interrupting him in the middle of a soliloquy about cooking techniques he wanted to learn. “This has been really enlightening.”
“It was?” Connie looked proud of himself. “I mean, of course it was! Anytime, Armin. I know you’ll figure things out.”
Armin stood and began walking over to Jean as the cadets filed out from their class, shooting Connie a not-so-discreet look indicating that he should get lost. It took a moment for Connie to get it, but when he did, he gathered his lunch and mouthed good luck! in Armin’s direction.
Jean looked up as Armin’s shadow shaded him. He smiled warmly, but Armin could see a hint of reservation in his eyes.
“Can we talk?” Armin swallowed, nerves roiling in his stomach. “About what happened a few nights ago?”
Jean’s eyes went wide, then narrowed. Abruptly he busied himself with cleaning his ODM gear. “It’s normal, you know. Fingering yourself. Lots of guys do it.”
Armin blinked.
“Jean, I know that. I do it,” he said, which Jean definitely knew, considering that he was there for most of it.
Jean cleared his throat. “Right. Forget I said anything. It was stupid.”
Armin studied his face. Jean’s cheeks were ruddy, his eyes downcast. He focused intently on his gear, buffing out an invisible spot with a cleaning cloth.
“Jean, I’m not here to judge you. I actually wanted to ask if you’d…” Armin’s voice quavered. “If next time, you’d let me watch.”
Jean’s eyes searched Armin’s. Armin hoped for yes, waited for it, willing his gaze to convey everything he was thinking and more.
“Sure,” Jean said, shrugging, carefully casual. “If you want to.”
“Fine. Just tell me when you’re ready,” Armin said through gritted teeth, wishing he could hug Jean, squeeze his hand, anything, but it was like Jean had purposefully arranged his body to keep him at bay. Jean just offered him a lopsided smile, which he supposed was as good of a reply as he would get.
Hope and frustration warred in his stomach as he crammed down the last of his lunch and headed to his next meeting. Jean’s response wasn’t ideal, but there was no use obsessing about it now. He’d just have to stick with the plan and hope that, by the end of it, Jean might be willing to let him in a little.
*
As it turned out, planning out a shared masturbation session in advance was harder than he thought it would be. Armin was the type to carefully schedule his alone time, wedging it in between meetings and obligations, strategically filing away steamy thoughts to consider later: a glimpse of Jean’s thighs, or the curve of his smile, or the glimmer in his eyes, a promise of encounters yet to come. Jean, on the other hand, was more spontaneous. Armin knew it by the way he reacted sometimes, to a stray touch in public, or a moment alone in the showers, the way his eyes would widen and he’d say, “Gotta go,” in that pinched voice of his, like Armin wouldn’t know exactly what he was doing.
The moment finally came when their schedules and libidos matched up a few nights later. Armin could feel the anticipation radiating off Jean throughout the meal, but it was the look he shot Armin as he returned his tray that made him sure it was time. He gave Jean a head start, chatting with Mikasa to stay occupied, but he couldn’t quite make himself focus on their conversation.
“Are you feeling okay?” she said, her brows knitting together. “You trailed off in the middle of a sentence.”
Armin smiled tightly. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
He left shortly thereafter. As he neared their shared room, he wondered what state he would find Jean in. Had he already started warming himself up, or was he waiting for Armin to arrive?
The answer was somewhere in between. When Armin opened the door, a little trepidatious, Jean was there on the bed. The lube was out, though he didn’t seem to have used it yet, and he was wearing a robe that barely concealed his most intimate parts.
“Took you long enough,” Jean said, stretching out languidly on the sheets.
Armin knew Jean well enough to recognize this as performance. Jean practiced that look of careless indifference in the mirror when he thought no one was looking, but Armin knew that beneath it lay the face he had witnessed when he’d stumbled in on Jean the other day, disarmed and shy, embarrassed by his own desires. He’d have to proceed with care if he wanted this night to go the way he hoped.
“I’m here now,” Armin said, pulling off his shirt and setting it aside. “Where do you want me?”
Jean spread his legs, and the robe followed with them, revealing the smooth curves of his long legs, his supple ass, and the thatch of dark hair above his soft cock. He gestured to the space between his legs. “Right here.”
Armin could barely tear his eyes away from the sight as he climbed onto the bed, close enough to feel the warmth emanating from Jean’s bare thighs, but not so close as to obscure the view. Despite the suave demeanor Jean had pasted on in the minutes before Armin had arrived, Jean’s hand trembled slightly as he uncorked the glass bottle of lubricant and coated his fingers, his eyes flicking toward Armin’s face and away, his lips hardening into a thin line.
In hopes of loosening him up, Armin leaned over Jean’s body and touched their lips together. The kiss was soft at first, but gradually he pressed in harder, deeper, exploring more of Jean’s mouth, feeling the tension in his body slowly ebb away. Jean’s hips moved slightly against his own, his bare cock rubbing against Armin’s clothed one. He let out a little groan as Armin broke the kiss. His face was flushed, his lips red and wet.
“Better?” Armin murmured.
“Yeah.”
With renewed energy, Jean began to touch himself. He seemed to enjoy being teased, tracing a few lazy circles around his hole as he relaxed back into the pillows. His eyelids fluttered closed as his fingers eased inside, slow at first, so slow, but then with growing insistence, soft wet sounds issuing from between his legs, his lips parting in a silent moan as he pressed deeper inside himself.
The whole scene was a feast for Armin’s eyes. His gaze traveled ravenously along Jean’s face, taking in his long lashes and plush lips, then down his flushed neck to his chest, his nipples hard with arousal, down to his belly button, tracing along the fine golden hairs there, down, down to his hard cock, swollen and red and beading with precome at the tip. Despite his initial reservations, Jean was clearly enjoying this. Armin’s own cock stirred as he finally looked at Jean’s hole, its rim just barely visible around his hand, making lewd sounds as he pushed another finger inside himself with a quiet gasp.
Armin thought back to the kiss and wondered if there weren’t other ways he could participate. Experimentally, he set his hands on Jean’s lower legs. Jean didn’t react, so he slid them up higher, along his calves, squeezing gently, then higher still, brushing over his knees. This time, he felt Jean shiver.
Finally, he moved to Jean’s inner thighs, fingertips dancing across his velvet-soft skin, resisting the urge to kiss and suck and mark it up. Instead he rubbed slow circles into the muscle, pleasure surging within him as Jean’s hips bucked into the touch. As his hands moved closer and closer to the center, Jean’s eyes opened slightly, locking gazes with him. Armin’s heart thumped in his throat as he slid a hand further inward, coming to rest atop Jean’s wrist.
“Can I do it?” he said before he could talk himself out of it.
After a moment’s hesitation, Jean’s hand slid free of himself. Armin took that as an invitation, slicking up his fingers, feeling a little light-headed at the prospect of any part of him being inside Jean. Jean let out a trembling little moan as Armin’s fingers slid up and in, and he watched Jean’s face closely all the while, trying to figure out what felt best for him.
“Ah!” Jean cried when Armin’s fingers curled inside him just so.
Armin’s cheeks burned. Now they were getting somewhere.
He moved in closer, his cock aching in his pants as he hooked his free hand under Jean’s leg and propped it over his shoulder, feeling the warmth of Jean’s thigh radiate against his chest. He curled his fingers inside Jean rhythmically, watching him come apart, all the self-consciousness melting out of his body as he gave himself over fully to pleasure.
Jean’s hole was hot and slick, squeezing around him with each pulse of his fingertips. Armin couldn’t help but think about how good it would feel around his cock. Would Jean want that, too? He slid another finger in, one more than Jean had pushed inside himself before. Jean arched his back into it, his hands fisting in the sheets.
“Fuck,” Jean said, “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Armin had never heard Jean make so much noise during sex. His performance was always carefully curated, trying to look good for Armin, to give him what he thought he wanted. Now, though, Jean couldn’t seem to care. He was too overwhelmed to stop himself.
“How is it?” Armin said, though it was obvious.
“Fucking amazing,” Jean said, breathless and panting.
Here, now, he was his raw, honest self, devoid of the mask that he wore at all hours except very early in the morning, before he was fully awake, when he’d pull Armin close and kiss his cheeks and whisper morning, in a way that made Armin think to himself that maybe he might love Jean, and maybe Jean might love him back. Armin wanted to know this Jean, to love him, to care for him every day for the rest of his short life, but would Jean let him?
Jean’s cock was leaking now, dribbling precome onto his stomach with each arch of his hips. He seemed close. Armin took hold of him in a firm grasp, stroking vigorously as he thrust his fingers in harder, deeper, determined to get Jean off just how he liked it—
“Wait!” Jean said.
Armin stopped. For a moment, they stared at each other. Jean seemed surprised at his own words. He’d stopped himself from coming… for what? Armin’s eyes went wide as he understood.
“I want to put it in,” he said, stumbling over the words, the brazenness of it. “Can I—Can I—?”
“Yeah,” Jean said. “Fuck. Yeah.”
Armin’s heart pounded loud in his ears as he shoved down his pants and underwear both, shuddering as the cool night air hit his exposed cock, painfully aroused by the erotic display Jean had put on before him.
Their bodies melted together in a frantic rhythm as their lips met. Precome from their leaking cocks smeared all over their stomachs. Unwilling to break the kiss, Armin felt around blindly for the lube.
“Here,” Jean muttered as he pressed the bottle into his hand.
“Will you do it?” Armin said, pulling away, giving Jean enough space to grasp his cock. Jean’s strokes were rough with impatience as he slicked up his shaft.
“If you don’t put it in soon, I’m gonna—”
“Relax. I’m ready,” Armin said, his voice quivering from the stimulation. He propped himself up on shaking arms and lined the tip of his cock up with Jean’s hole, eyeing him shyly as he began to push in, slowly sheathing himself inside.
“Ffffuck,” Jean groaned, writhing on his cock.
Armin sat there for a moment, taking deep breaths and adjusting to the squeeze around him so he wouldn’t come too quickly.
“C’mon,” Jean whined, wiggling his hips, “What are you waiting for?”
Armin smiled. “Just wanted to see you squirm.”
Jean shot him a glare, though there was no real heat in it. Armin chuckled, but the sound died on his lips as he pulled almost all the way out, then thrust into Jean up to the hilt.
“Shit!” Jean gasped.
Satisfaction at Jean’s reaction shot straight to his cock. He eased out and back in again, shuddering as Jean’s hole squeezed around him. It was tempting to chase his own pleasure, but he wanted Jean to feel good, too.
As he searched for the right rhythm, though, he found himself a little underwhelmed. Sure, it felt good, but Jean wasn’t giving him the reactions he was earlier, the wanton moans, the arching back. It wasn’t enough for Jean to merely enjoy himself. Armin wanted this night to burn itself in his memory so he’d ask to repeat it again and again.
He bit the inside of his cheek as he slowed the pace. As thoughtless as Jean could be in other areas of his life, he always made sure that Armin felt taken care of whenever they were together. Armin wanted to return that favor and then some. But what could he do? His cock was shorter and thinner than Jean’s—not an insult, just a fact—and his body was smaller, too. He couldn’t rely on his natural characteristics the way Jean did. He had to be smart about it.
“Why did you stop?” Jean said, the words half-choked as Armin pulled out.
Armin seized a pillow, folding it in half. “Lift your hips.”
Jean looked a little puzzled, but he did as Armin asked, letting him slide the pillow underneath. Armin studied his handiwork with a frown. With Jean’s hips at a different angle, could he hit that spot inside him? There was only one way to find out. It was a little more awkward leaning over Jean like this, so Armin stayed upright instead, spreading Jean’s thighs and lining up with his hole.
“Put it in,” Jean begged, rubbing himself on Armin’s cock.
Armin didn’t make him wait any longer, sliding back into his welcoming heat with a blissful sigh. He tested out the new angle with a few shallow thrusts, and at first, nothing seemed to change. But on the last thrust, Jean’s back arched and he let out an involuntary cry.
“Like that?” Armin said, his voice shaking as Jean’s walls pulsed around him.
“Ngh—yeah. There,” Jean said.
Instead of fucking Jean deeply like before, he kept his thrusts shallow and precise, eyes trained on Jean’s face. As he watched, Jean came apart completely. It happened piece by piece, in his eyes as they softened to molten gold, in his hair as it splayed into a tangle on the pillow, in his cheeks and his neck as they flushed red with exertion, and in his hips, jumping and stuttering with every thrust. Armin leaned forward, pressing in on him, and Jean gripped his forearms tightly, his mouth falling open with a strangled gasp.
“Armin—!” he cried, and Armin wished more than anything that he were tall enough to kiss him just then, to feel those ragged breaths against his face as he brought Jean to his desperate peak.
“Right there,” Jean moaned. “Don’t stop.”
Armin wasn’t sure Jean was even fully aware of what he was saying, or the sounds he was making, or the moans, the utterly filthy moans he was sure could be heard by everyone else in the building. Jean was lost entirely in the pleasure of it, gasping with every thrust, his hand fumbling for his cock. His thighs trembled as his nails dug into Armin’s forearm.
“Fuck, Armin, I—I’m gonna—”
“I know,” Armin breathed. He wasn’t far behind.
Jean’s voice broke apart with a shattered moan, Armin’s spilling half-formed from between his lips as he coated his stomach with his own seed. The very sight of it nearly sent Armin over the edge. He braced himself on the bed and gave in to his desire, plunging into Jean and grinding deep inside him as he chased his own orgasm.
“Jean,” he cried, throwing his head back, lost in the pleasure that unfurled deep in his core and bloomed out into his extremities, rendering him momentarily, blissfully thoughtless.
The only sound in the room was their panting breaths as Armin allowed himself to bask in the afterglow, but only briefly. After all, there was a specific reason they were here, a moment he’d hoped to engineer, and he could tell by the look on Jean’s face, that same contented look he wore early in the morning, that he’d achieved it.
Jean seemed surprised when Armin pulled out and captured his lips in a firm kiss, the heat between their bodies melding together as their hearts beat in sync. His hands crept to Jean’s shoulders and down his arms, twining their fingers with one another’s, lifting them up, then pinning his hands to the pillow on either side of his head.
“Jean,” he said carefully, “What are we?”
“Wh—What—” Jean looked confused. “Is this an ambush?”
“Yes. Now please answer the question.”
Armin watched as the haze in Jean’s eyes coalesced into keen understanding. He recognized that look. It was the same one Jean wore whenever he praised Armin’s quick thinking or clever planning. He could only surmise that Jean was doing the math now, wondering whether he was too smart, too cunning, too much to handle, having orchestrated this entire situation for the express purpose of asking this very question.
“What do you want us to be?” Jean said at last.
Armin’s nostrils flared at Jean’s predictable non-answer. Even under these circumstances, he still couldn’t get a straight answer out of him.
“Come on, Jean. Doesn’t it ever bother you how everyone seems to know what we are but us?” he pleaded.
“What does it matter what they think we are?” Jean said indignantly.
“You always care about what people think! Except, apparently, when it comes to us,” Armin said, anger sharpening his tone. He kissed Jean again, sloppy and desperate, their teeth clicking together as he missed his mark. “Why is that, Jean? Why won’t you say it? Just tell me. Tell me what I am to you.”
He canted his hips against Jean’s, ignoring the sparks of oversensitivity that jolted through him at every touch.
“Armin, I don’t—I don’t know what you—”
Armin rutted against him. “Jean, say it!”
“I—I like you, okay?” Jean exclaimed, his voice quivering with each brush of their cocks. “I like spending time with you. I like eating with you. I like listening to you read. I like waking up next to you. I like everything about you!”
Armin froze, staring Jean down. “Enough to call me yours?”
Jean’s expression softened. “Of course I do. I thought that was obvious.”
Armin’s lower lip trembled. “Well, it wasn’t. Not to me.”
Suddenly, he felt so small and stupid. He rolled off Jean, facing the wall, his eyes stinging. If it was so obvious, why did he feel like the butt of some massive joke that everyone else was in on?
“Armin…” Jean murmured, pressing a kiss to his arm, then his shoulder, then just behind his ear. “Armin.”
Armin looked at Jean, his eyes shiny. “What?”
Jean caught him by the chin and kissed him deeply, his tongue sliding across his lower lip, then slipping inside, overwhelming him with the tenderness of it. Armin couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. It was all he could do to look at Jean as he pulled away, his eyes hooded with desire.
“I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine,” Jean said.
Armin searched his gaze. “Do you know what you’re saying? I’m not talking about just being your boyfriend. I want to know you Jean, really know you. Your hopes, your dreams, your desires…” His throat threatened to close around the words. “I want to know everything. I want to share my life with you. Do you want that, too?”
“I do, but…”
Jean seemed conflicted as he looked away. Armin’s jaw clenched, bracing himself for rejection.
“I feel like I don’t know how. Not anymore. After what happened with Marco, I thought it would be easier this way. To shut myself off. And it was for a while. But then things got serious with you, and I wanted to open up, I really did, but I just couldn’t. Because if something happens to you…”
A lump formed in Armin’s throat. “I get it. It’s unfair of me to ask you for this when I have a few years left at best. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
The silence stretched between them. Armin wondered if it might be the last of their silences. It seemed fitting, he thought: silence as a start, and as an end. Then Jean began to speak, and as much as Armin wanted to block out the words he dreaded hearing, he forced himself to listen.
“That’s the thing, isn’t it? We’re all going to die sooner or later. It’s about time I accepted that.” Jean cupped his cheek and stroked it will his thumb. “Besides, it’s too late to stop myself from falling for you. I already have.”
“Jean…” Armin began, but the look in Jean’s eyes stole the words away. He could tell by what he saw there that Jean meant every word of it. Knowing that, what more was there to say?
It was hard to tell who started the kiss. Armin melted into Jean's touch, slinging his arms around his neck, pulling him close, their bare legs tangling together beneath the sheets.
“What do you say?” Jean breathed. “Will you take a chance on a coward like me?”
“Depends, can you handle having a boyfriend with an expiration date?” Armin said, his voice shaking as Jean kissed and sucked a path down his neck.
“I’d spend forever with you if I could.”
“For now,” Armin said, trying for playful but landing on urgent. “We only have for now.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” Jean said, kissing him again.
The kiss quickly became heated as they embraced, all the tension ebbing from their bodies now that they finally knew where they stood. Armin shuddered as he felt Jean’s growing erection press against his thigh.
“Excited again already?”
“Whose fault is that?” Jean arched an eyebrow. “That little stunt you pulled earlier wasn’t cool, by the way.”
“What about you? ‘It’s none of your business,’” Armin said, imitating Jean’s tone.
Jean narrowed his eyes. “He told you about that?”
“He did,” Armin said, barely concealing a grin.
Jean sucked his teeth. “Pint-sized bastard.”
“Watch what you say. I’m almost as short as he is.”
“Yeah, but you’re cute, so it’s different.”
Armin’s heart skipped a beat. Jean had never been so openly affectionate with him. He couldn’t dwell on it, though, because Jean began kneading his ass, scattering his thoughts.
“Up for another round?” Jean said with his signature smarmy grin.
Armin felt a little torn. There were so many questions he wanted to ask now that they were together, really together, finally free to speak their minds instead of dancing around one another. But with Jean flushed and wanting in front of him, he figured they could wait a little longer.
“Yeah? How do you want it?” he said, leaning into Jean’s embrace.
“Mm… the usual way?”
Armin shivered as Jean’s fingertips teased his hole. “I’d like that. But what we did earlier… can we do it again sometime?”
Jean nuzzled into his neck. When he pulled away, he was smiling. “Definitely.”