Work Text:
“Hey! Easy!” Eren snaps as he’s roughly shoved into the dark bedroom. Jean stumbles in behind him and the door slams shut in both their faces. He can hear the sound of multiple bodies pressing up against the flimsy wood to stop them from just busting the damn thing down. Loud snickering and giggling comes from behind the bedroom door. The little devils that Eren used to call his friends now laugh at his demise. Seven minutes locked in a room with his arch nemesis? Kill him now.
Jean seems to think the same thing, crossing his arms and scowling at Eren as if this is his fault! Blame shitty luck.
Is luck even the word for this? Eren isn’t feeling fucking lucky right now!
“This is so stupid,” Jean murmurs, rolling his eyes and turning away from Eren. “I can’t believe I have to even breathe the same air as you.”
Now it’s Eren’s turn to roll his eyes. “Don’t worry. Knowing you, I’ll die before the time is up because your big ass nose sucked up all the oxygen.”
It’s one of Jean’s sore spots and Eren abuses it every chance he can get. Besides, he set himself up for that one. His shoulders hunch up and he whips around to glare at him.
“Oh yeah? Maybe I should speed it up, bastard!”
Jean lunges for him right as Eren does the same, making them connect in a flurry of fists. They kick, hit, and bite wherever they can reach, spitting insults and threats like a pair of street cats. Suggestive grunting coming from their mouths cues a flurry of giggles from the other side of the door, only serving to further fan the flame of the two men’s anger. Paired with the alcohol running through their veins, their fight is one big sloppy mess that ultimately ends with Jean on top of Eren, straddling him as his hands crudely wrap around his throat.
It’s an inexperienced hold. While it cuts off some of his airflow, he can still suck in a small stream of oxygen.
Eren splutters, hands flying up to grip Jean’s forearms hard. He thrashes below the taller man, gasping for air as he struggles to free himself. The pressure on his throat feels so strange. His limbs only feel fuzzy…
That’s when he feels it.
He’s hard.
Eren freezes, still gaping like a fish under Jean’s strangulation. There’s a weird thrill in his veins, which is strange. Shouldn’t he be angry? Or scared at least? He can’t properly breathe!
But… it’s that distinct feeling of not being in control that sends the heat straight to his groin.
As much as he would love to lay there and relish in this new discovery, he needs to get away from Jean now — before he discovers Eren’s little problem. He cannot live with the humiliation of Jean fucking Kirstein discovering his erection while they’re in the middle of a fistfight. The whole campus will know by morning. His twisting and struggling picks up, increasing in its efforts. He snarls out a few choked threats under Jean’s palm, but he’s stuck fast. Damn, Jean is strong; especially with all his weight pinning Eren like this.
And unfortunately for Eren, his wiggling only has the opposite effect of what he intends. Instead of distracting Jean from the raging hard-on he has, it both pushes his hips up into the other man’s ass as well as topples Jean backwards onto it.
This time, they both stop in their tracks. They stare wide-eyed at each other for a moment. Only their soft breathing fills the room. That moment when Jean’s brown eyes search his, this weird look Eren’s never seen in them before, seems to stretch infinitely.
Eren can only stare back, his cheeks inflamed and still fighting for air.
The hands around his throat relaxes a bit, now more of a firm pressure than a squeeze. Eren sucks in a proper lungful, stars dancing in his vision. Then, Jean adjusts his hold, takes a deep breath, and returns the pinching sensation in his throat.
Eren lets him.
With his hands still securely around Jean’s forearms, he merely rests them there, no longer trying to wiggle out from underneath.
Then Jean tentatively rolls his hips. His eyes shift nervously, wondering if it’s too bold, too far. Eren’s eyes flutter shut and his head falls back, softly groaning, open mouthed. His hips rock up to meet Jean’s. Eren’s groin presses up into Jean’s ass, grinding softly.
God, it feels so good. All warm and floaty, and his fingertips tingling with both the delicious lull of alcohol and the denied access to oxygen. Perhaps it’s the alcohol addling their decision making. They’re supposed to be enemies. Supposed to hate each other with their whole hearts. Spit at the mere thought of the other. But now, Eren’s desperate for the feeling of Jean’s large, warm palm resting heavily on his throat. And by the looks of it, Jean’s just as hungry to have Eren beneath him.
It doesn’t take long for an unspoken decision to cross both of them.
Soon they’re a rutting mess on the floor, desperate, a bit too rough. Jean shifts his chokehold to one hand, easing up the intensity, but keeping the pressure there. With that one hand free, Eren tails it down to grip at Jean’s ass, guiding, pulling, encouraging Jean to meet his thrust upward so that their groins press together intimately. It’s exactly like Eren needs. His groans are quickly swallowed up by a hot, needy mouth.
Kissing.
Jean Kirstein is kissing him. Oh God. It feels lovely.
Jean’s other hand tangles in his hair, ruining his bun and running the silky strands through his fingers as he sighs.
Their lower halves grind down on one another; their breaths loud and deprived as they struggle to keep their mouths connected in messy, desperate kisses. Occasionally, Jean gives him a few beats where he can breathe, but takes it away when Eren least expects it. Every time he does that, a thrill travels from his head to his toes. He can’t get enough.
He ruts desperately into Jean. The friction of their jeans is rough, a little uncomfortable, but it’s perfect. It’s a little like them. Sworn enemies finding relief in these few minutes. This isn’t about perfection; it’s about getting what they need from each other. Hot, heavy, and panting into each other’s mouths as they grind messily together on the carpeted floor of a classmate’s bedroom.
Eren whimpers against Jean’s soft lips. He catches his lower lip between his teeth, squeezing his eyes closed tightly as a particularly good thrust against Jean’s clothed cock has his own aching and leaking into his boxers.
Jean moans back, forcefully pushing Eren’s head back to expose the delicate, unmarred skin. He lets him, letting his head tip back. Jean’s knuckles dig into his jaw, but he doesn’t care. It feels right. The other man leans down and mouths a few hot, wet kisses along the column and Eren loses it. Back arching off the ground and a strangled cry tearing from his throat, he comes.
Jean humps against him a few more times, sending Eren into oversensitivity and trembling beneath him, before he too spills in his pants.
Only once Jean has come, do the fingers around his throat relax. Jean and him pant together in the quiet room, staring in surprise at each other.
That was definitely not how that was supposed to go. Twin blooms of red appear on their cheeks and soon Jean is scrambling to get off of him. Eren’s a bit slower to recover, propping himself up on his elbows and rubbing at his sore throat, eyes wide as he follows Jean’s retreating form as the man slips into the connecting bathroom. Since the once warm cum is now cooling uncomfortably in his pants, growing sticky and nasty, Eren decides to join him.
They don’t speak to each other as Eren gets up and shuffles in behind him. In silence, they clean themselves up, avoiding eye contact like champs. The bedroom door bursts open, making both of them jump, whipping around to stare guiltily out from the bathroom as their friends' silhouettes loom in the doorway. Connie steps out into the light, grinning like a maniac. Behind him, Sasha and Krista stare bug-eyed, open mouthed at their disheveled appearances.
“Dude! What the fuck happened ?” Connie all but screams, “You guys have no stamina! That was only like four minutes!”
Both Jean and Eren turn even brighter red. Their ‘friends’ cackle at their misfortune, Connie leading the brigade full force, crowing drunkenly down the stairs to the rest of the party all the dirty secrets that just unfolded in the host’s room.
The two of them exchange a glance, understanding that they are both, well and truly, fucked.