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A powerful surge crashes against the sailing ship, the tremendous impact of the collision between ocean and watercraft remarkably reminiscent of the afternoon the colossal titans had set forth their deadly march, setting the flattened lands beneath their steps ablaze and sparing no one in their reach. The tides and waves were high tonight, the roar of the storm outside raging in clamant solitude, as does her unconquerable turmoil from the chaos of emotions.
She had tried everything that came to her mind to get her lids to grow heavy and drowsy from the exhaustion she could still feel flowing through her strained muscles and bones, a deep ache in the aftermath of battle. But all effort turned out to be useless from the beginning.
From forcing her eyes shut and pulling the thin covers over her face, to her insomniac condition becoming so desperate that she at some point eventually resorted to the silly idea of counting sheep. Even entertaining the ridiculous notion of counting those fluffy bundles jumping over the fence one after the other backwards which - needless to say - would only worsen the headache. Running out of options, it seems that sleep simply will not come easily, particularly this night in which she supposes her body could need it most in view of what the rise of the next dawn would demand of them.
The harsh smell of fresh iron fills the small space of the sleeping bunk that she was given for herself, her face wincing in queasiness and her guts wrenching at the piercing odor reaching her nostrils on top of the constant swaying from the nauseating undulation and the tempest unraveling outside.
As soon as they had reached the ship at the dock and set sail they had taken turns and washed up in the ship's few baths, scrubbing the sweat and crimson spots off their clothes before changing into folded sets of clean nightwear they had found in the storage room. And despite it all, the blood of her victims not only had stained the fabric of her clothes or the sharpened silver of her blades, but had rested long enough to seep through the pores of her skin down into her marrow, her body carrying its metallic fragrance everywhere she moves and reminding her of the blood she had brutally shed.
Just ignore it.
Though much to her dismay, closing her eyes had done nothing to soothe her mind but instead only intensified her keen senses and with it the stench of death and the surges hitting the craft, causing her motion sickness to become more intolerable with each passing second she had unknowingly counted.
So she opts for keeping them open, focusing on the monotonous ductwork on the overhead in lieu of the smell as she tries to fend off hasty images.
Images of throats being sliced open and liveless shells stacked up on top of each other flashing before her eyes on repeat.
And repeat.
And repeat.
Without success.
Is this victory?
No, they were farthest from being victors. They may have claimed the win for today's battle, may have eliminated their enemies who were greater in number in shorter time than anyone could have anticipated without suffering any losses and yet in the end their desolate faces and labored breaths bore none of the pride or jubilant triumph of people who emerge victorious from battle.
There was no honor in the deceitful betrayal of their former comrades, let alone in killing them during what was their last toil of protecting their homeland.
Maybe it was - with no doubt - the island’s only chance to survive. Maybe sometime in the future they'd meet their destined demise as consequence looming over their decision they had made today.
Of course, only if by some chance they do manage to stop him in time.
Although that kept sounding more and more unlikely. They can't stop him unless he wants to be stopped.
She doesn't know who is in the right or in the wrong. Further than that, she doesn't care to know.
But on nights like these where she’d find herself sinking deeper and deeper in the neverending spiral of ever growing doubts and disgust formed from self-hatred, her mess of thoughts would keep swirling around in a vehement vortex until her mind would ultimately explode from the sheer pressure of it, leaving inside only a massive void where she'd reach the same old outcome all over again.
Could they have prevented all those tragedies leading up to their anguish, to the very unthinkable conclusion so close to grab and yet still so far away, coming face to face with him in animosity after years of always running to his aid?
Maybe If I had chosen a different path back when...
Maybe then she wouldn't have to lay here, lamenting after those few irrevocable words she's never voiced for the umpteenth time. She doesn't know the exact number anymore. She has lost count of it long time ago.
Maybe she could have brought him back-
No. Stop it.
She grinds her teeth, sucking the biting air through them.
She could do this no longer.
No more.
Putting all her energy into struggling her legs out of the bothersome blanket covering them, she storms out of bed too quickly, only barely able to catch herself from the unstable movements of the ship before she takes the unpretentious night robe hung on the single chair in the bunk, enveloping her shaking, frail form in the little warmness which would have to suffice.
No one can change what's in the past.
There may have always been whispers about her graceful fierceness in combat, about her unique strength incomparable to anyone else's the military has ever brought out but even she didn't possess the power of undoing what's already been set in stone.
She steps out of the compartment into the lathy corridor. Still unaccustomed to this unfamiliar environment, she grimaces, having forgotten the massive door behind her that was now falling shut on its own, but all effort is pointless as it’s too late to stop it when the loud clank of sturdy steel already reverberates through the ship and her bones with such full force, it may as well have reached the upper decks. Cursing her clumsiness, she hoped that she hadn‘t just by some chance woken up those blessed enough to have found deep slumber during the most unforgiving of nights.
After the droning vibrations from the clangor of the sound had finally died out, she lets the hands covering her ears drop and begins navigating aimlessly and sluggishly through the narrow passageway, feeling the harsh cold of metal drill further into her skin right under her naked feet and her fingertips that had reached for the bulkheads to her left and right, every single step her body takes more arduous than the previous one, her destination unknown.
She walks, and walks and no matter how hard she tries, it just seems impossible for her to shake off the menacing eeriness surrounding her as if she were all alone in here and the only breathing existence on the ship. With the exception of the countless limbs tainted in burning red, some still in whole pairs while others are missing their counterparts, emerging from the ground and trying to reach for her bare ankles as she keeps dragging herself out of their hurting grip in an effort to escape from being pulled into the lowest and hottest depths of hell, specifically created for sinners like her.
As she nears the end of the corridor, she notices dimness emitting from a weak light source in one of the larger conference rooms the Azumabito boat was facilitated with. With curiosity getting the best of her, pushing back her first instinct to turn around on the spot and go back to minding her own business without disturbing others in their affairs, she slows down and carefully approaches the door to the room, her quiet steps now as undetectable as those of the experienced spy that she had been trained into during her missions under Levi's assistance.
On the off chance she does get caught, she silently hopes it's Hange sitting inside instead of risking a more than embarrassing encounter with Miss Kiyomi in the middle of the night when she ought to be asleep and most definitely not be engaging in a one-sided conversation regarding her so called duties to her royal lineage .
Even stumbling upon one of her technicians would be a saving grace in contrast to the money-hungry Lady of middle age who since her very first introduction appeared to be too intrusive to her own liking.
Once she's walked up ahead to the large door, she takes a prying peek inside in aggregating interest, thoroughly keen on making no single noise. To her astoundment it is not the Commander nor her Hizuran relative or any of the men working under her that she spots inside but a familiar tall figure with that striking sandy shade of hair leaning on the round table placed in the center of the room. She studies the almost unseeming sound of a freshly sharpened pencil scribbling on paper filling the space, soon followed by a brief scratch before the figure proceeds writing down notes, his strokes alternating between fluidity and rashness.
They hadn't exchanged more than three words after getting aboard yesterday. Not just the unforgivable crimes they had committed but also the entirety of the situation they had plunged into had been a difficult load to take in and process, it felt surreal even, so much so that it numbed them to any external influences around them, including each other.
While Armin had needed a long rest for his severe injuries to heal up after only narrowly evading the clutches of the grim reaper, Connie still must be eaten alive by the haunting guilt of having killed Samuel and Daz in a last resort to save her best friend's life.
Jean on the other hand, well, she heard from Annie that he’d quietly announced his retreat into seclusion the minute the ship had undocked and was nowhere to be seen since. Or at least she doesn't remember crossing paths with him but taking her own insentience to all the things transpiring around her into account she wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if she actually did walk past him without taking notice.
Meanwhile, as she continues peeking inside, resting part of her weight against the door in an attempt to get a clearer view on what he was doing, the door begins opening involuntarily with an unmissable squeak, alarming his heightened senses and leaving her no chance to make her presence go unnoticed.
These heavy doors be damned…
Dumbstruck by her repeated mistake she holds her position as she watches him turn around like an alerted animal and faces his gaze directly, widened from her unannounced interruption, catching his furrowed brows and the pronounced rigid lines on his forehead in the shadows casted by the murkiness that engulfed the expanse of the room.
"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he speaks upfront as usual, his calm voice sounding rather composed than scolding or even poisonous.
In a quick motion, he turns his head slightly sidewards but not before she had the chance to make out the stiffness fading from his tense features.
"We aren't far from Port Odiha. If I'm not mistaken we'll arrive there in about two and a half hours, you should make use of what little time we have left to get at least some rest instead of wandering around the ship.” he pauses with a meek sigh.
“You need those hours just as much as any other of us."
She couldn't deny the irony of receiving such genuine counsel from him when he should prioritize taking his own advice rather than lecturing others on what they should do, judging by his slouched shoulders and the weak circles under his eyes.
Clearing her throat, now probably drier than the plenty arid deserts that Armin was so fascinated by after not having formed a single syllable for over half a day, she counters him.
"Thanks for the concern, really. But I could ask you the same, Jean. You don’t look exactly well rested yourself."
He doesn't perk his head up to this nor does he make any attempt to contradict her, undoubtedly having already anticipated her to say something along the line.
"We haven't seen you all day so why are you out here now. What are you even doing over there?"
Assuming his previous position towards the table again, he doesn’t reply to her right away but simply shifts aside a bit, a silent offer to her to join him.
Or maybe, just maybe a hidden call of distress seeking for consolation by having someone at his side that would listen to him.
If so, she wouldn't judge him for that. For she too needs solace in the midst of the raging storm of regrets that won't let go of torturing her.
Approaching the large conference table she comes to a halt next to him, choosing a purposeful distance between them that is both appropriate given the mutual respect they developed over time as trusted comrades and yet still reassuring of her nearness as a close friend of his who wholeheartedly wished for the deep frown on his face to disappear once and for all.
Investigating where the soft scribbling noises from before came from, her attention lands on a large piece of paper splayed out on the mirror finished table, uneven and zig-zag lines connected to continuous contours that she recognizes as traced lines of continents and territory borders outside of the island.
A replica of a visual world map drawn by him from memory.
Admittedly, geography wasn't necessarily the subject she had excelled in when the Anti-Marleyan volunteers had schooled them on basic knowledge they had been deprived of for over a century. But she guesses his attempt and the scaling is as accurate as it can get to the map they had to memorize from their textbooks. Down to the very last detail.
From the angle of her vision she can see him watching her as she inspects his work with inquisitive eyes, awaiting an answer still.
Inspecting the way his fingers curl up into tight fists, she already understands where the conversation was heading.
"I tried for hours but I just couldn't fall asleep in there. Their faces..." he exhales with a shake.
"They're in the darkness, I see them standing in every corner. Even when I close my eyes they keep stalking me, it‘s part of their wicked entertainment to not give me a break. So I came here to flee from their unending cries for mercy by doing what I can do best and forging somewhat of a last-resort strategy for tomorrow instead. But this upcoming battle goes far beyond my capabilities. I know Hange told me to never say it out loud, but our situation looks hopeless as it is now."
Honesty never was something that came difficult to Jean, it was undeniably the trait one could not oversee in him, the same one that got him into tons of childish quarrels, either out of intentional provocation or misunderstood remarks, but it soon also gained him a huge deal of admiration among the high-rank officials as well as his peers. And yet still the expectations of others had put a heavy burden on him.
She had seen it firsthand in his paralyzed eyes, in the constrain to keep his voice low and ultimately to keep himself composed when he had delivered the dreadful news of Sasha getting shot by a child soldier, a lethal chest wound. Not even when her lifeless body had been carried out from the airship had he once allowed himself to cry, for people looked up to him and put their trust into his prowess to become a confident leader to rely on, so he had learned to wear a facade that would not crumble whilst further closing himself off of everyone else.
And as stupid as it may sound, it did remind her of herself in a way. Because when her tear drenched face had fallen on his grief-painted one for only a brief fraction of a second after Hange had to pull her away from Sasha's limp body by brute force, she had seen the hidden tears he had fought to hold back glistening in the shadows.
"You’re being too hard on yourself again, Jean. None of us is equipped for circumstances this unpredictable and no one expects from anyone to devise some plan A and plan B.‘‘ she folds her arms, deciding against a sugarcoated answer that wouldn’t be of help anyway.
"It’s ridiculous, really, but all we can do as of now is hope for some impossible miracle to be sent down from the heavens."
His demeanor remains unchanged, having digested the message behind the pessimistic yet sadly truthful input behind her words.
A mirthless laugh garners her concentration.
"I have killed them. My own cadets who were entrusted to me before the assault on Liberio, whose safety was explicitly emphasized to be my priority . It’s been just a month since then and I failed them already." with each vowel leaving his lips his voice grows thinner, so frangibly small she thinks his words might as well have been merely imagined. Engrossed, he scrutinizes his fists, kneading them as if punishing his murderous hands.
"First I couldn't protect Sasha although she had warned all of us early enough for me to do something to prevent further harm and yesterday, I shot down the rest of my troops in cold blood. Pulled the trigger from ambush without once faltering, not even giving them a chance to see who their murderer was."
Listening to the unfiltered truth caused her jaw to quiver and her heart to downright break into shambles just from seeing him this helpless, shoulders sagged. The terror in his pained eyes doesn't back away from her empathizing gaze and yet when he expresses it into the nothingness and puts it like that, she can't help but wonder whether those words were shards of a belated apology, his plea for forgiveness towards every gone soul whose death had been personally sealed with his name.
He stays unmoving, posture tall though at the same time crestfallen.
"Is it hurting you like this too ? Or... is it still just me who's the weakling out of the group? The odd one out." he tilts his head slightly, tugging at his sleeves, and she reckons to see a twinge of visible exhaustion settling on his features.
"I know it must be really shitty and unfair of me to seek your pity when I don’t even want to bring myself to imagine what you have to go through at this moment. But tell me please - just how do you deal with all of this?" the question leaves his mouth in a whiff, prickling her ears.
A sudden sting pierces her chest like a bolt and she presses her lips into a thin line, gripping at a chair’s arm, the mix of emotions on her face bearing the same vulnerability as the insistent stare of the comrade who stood in front of her with an expression bleeding for her.
She feels a familiar burn in the sockets of her eyes building up, waiting for tears to finally spill over and relieve her of the self-perpetuating suffering, but as of recently they became more stubborn than ever before, reluctant to show themselves. And from the tension in his clenched jaw coupled with those reflective pools of amber holding her gaze so pleadingly alone, she could tell that he too was struggling to cry.
With the passing of the years their once vulnerable flesh had turned into impenetrable armor, each loss in their lives encasing them in a new thick layer until they had been nothing but battle-hardened soldiers with no semblance of their humaneness on the surface. Their bodies were quite literally worn out and destroyed to the point they no longer possessed the physical ability to shed tears and cry together anymore, the reservoir entirely depleted from all the sweat their glands had secreted over the years.
It is during private moments like these where they are being reminded of their mortality and fragility again. Of their very core concealed inside their shells, dwindled yet still enough of it there to be rekindled.
All their lives they were expected to serve their nation, to protect their people and to strike back in the event of a hostile attack. To carry their emblem with pride and undying love for the motherland. To function as pawns in a game of chess. But breaking had never been an option to choose from in the manual of unwritten rules for being soldier.
"Jean, there’s no reason to feel bad about telling me this, you too deserve to grieve. As for the pain, it never really goes away. It may only dull with time. However, eventually you come to accept that it’s just enough to move on - it has to, whether you want to or not."
She's surprised at how freely the words pour out of the locked chambers in her mind but she doesn't let her shock intervene the flow of what has always been her painstaking reality.
"My body has its fair share of memories. It remembers all lethal strikes it performed. Sometimes, my muscles would even twitch out of the sudden as though prompting me to draw a blade from a sheath because that's what my body has learned best throughout our years of practice and oftentimes I can even taste that bitter iron in my mouth when I’m having another nightmare. But frankly, I‘ve never seen their faces."
Completely aware that it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room, she hugs her form instinctively as she recalled all the images keeping her company, one in particular that had begun appearing more frequently in the last days.
"They are nothing but faceless silhouettes. All except for one."
"Eren." he completes, not caring to beat around the bush.
She feels her lungs contract upon his voice. In the seven years of knowing him she doesn‘t think she‘s ever heard him say his name this dejected and spiritless, all past signs of his feistiness vanished.
"I always said that that suicidal bastard was gonna be nothing but trouble, that he would turn out to be our eventual downfall sooner or later.“ he pinches the bridge of his nose, a scoff permeating the space.
"And it's even more outrageous that despite knowing this would happen, I still don’t have the resolve to keep myself from following him directly into it, even when the destination is hell itself. If I just hadn't made that mistake and aimed at Reiner's hand with the thunderspear, maybe we could’ve-"
Mindlessly, overtaken by an impulse she could not explain to herself, she cuts him off and grabs his free hand on the table in one swift movement, resting her fingers atop his scarred knuckles to douse the never ending loop of what ifs and maybes raging in his head.
From the erratic blinking of his eyes, she could tell that he was just as surprised as she was by her rather unexpected gesture.
"It's no use raking your head over this, Jean. We can't change what's done." she states sternly, intervening in his self-flagellation, her tone tinted with a faint nuance of compassion that she knows he would discern without issue, similarly to the countless of times in which he'd been able to read her demeanor through her stoic mask with unerring precision that she used to think was resistant to translucence.
She watches as his facial expression alters through differing stages at hearing the plain truth in her statement. Ranging from initial speechlessness to a final sense of accepted defeatism before he blinks up again, four times she counts, and something totally different washes over him.
Like looking upon the rise of the sun on the horizon, his mood of dejection softens, replaced by half melancholy and half alleviation.
"You're right. But we still can influence what lies ahead of us."
Under her supporting hand she feels him unclench his fist and her lips open up slightly in confusion from the intended double meaning he's trying to get at.
"Mikasa?"
She raises her brow in his direction, still unsure about the purpose of his new change in attitude.
"Yes?"
"If I asked you to promise me one thing, would you do it?"
He rolls his wrist, turning his hand upwards to grasp her smaller, much smaller one into the warm roughness of his palm. She's unable to let a sound out, the image of their connected hands pulled into her field of view, focusing on the coarse texture of flesh under her fingertips.
"Tomorrow when we're out there and confront him - If the turn of events don't go as planned and he refuses to come back to us or if we end up losing the overview of the battle and it happens to get… well, critical ."
With the words leaving his mouth his secure grip on her becomes even stronger and before she can even realize, can even comprehend, she already reciprocates, lightly squeezing her lengthy fingers around the backside of his hand in a similar manner.
She isn't looking at him yet, too enthralled by how perfectly their hands mold together, but is still able to hear a trace of a tremble that had accidentally slipped through his voice.
"If anything happens that might put you in grave danger and I am nearby," he moves his thumb and rubs her knuckles, the feeling almost like that of an invisible feather descending and landing on the same spot.
"Please promise to not stop me if it comes down to it."
Her heart drops into her gut.
No, no, no…
She couldn’t believe her ears.
"Let’s face it, I'll most likely not make it out alive anyway. The least I wish for is to get a say in how-‘‘ a hard gulp follows and permeates within the metal walls, distinguishable from the ship's resonant engines running in the background.
“In how I wanna meet my end.“
Almost instantly pulled back, her eyes leave the hypnotizing sight of their enveloped hands and she couldn’t help but jerk her head, transfixed back at those honey colored orbs with her own widened stare and recognizing signs of sadness and kindness within the calm features in his collectedness.
Even seeing the vague ghost of a smile seated at one corner of his lips, the sight of it causing her heart to clench.
She feels her blood freeze at the ineffable implications she wouldn't in a million years dare to say out loud, her fingers forming into sharp clutches at what he really was asking of her and bruising his skin underneath. She is confident she must be hurting him, but sees nothing in his appearance, unadulterated and everfirm, that’d be indicative of her claw-like nails digging into his bones.
Something queasy stirs in her gut and she just knows they had already arrived at this point before, that she had already seen him wear an open expression this peaceful during a similar conversation they had dropped half-way through and never come back to eversince for some reason. It transports her back to a distant flashback after an exhausting day of building the railroad in the wastelands of Paradis under the hot blazing sun, the memory of it not too far in the past yet feeling as though eons had gone by with a single flap of a butterfly’s wing.
Blinking into the emptiness behind him, she once again remembers the long lost question that had arisen in her that day but was soon forgotten. And she cannot shake off the question why...
"Why would you throw your life away for mine like it means nothing to you?" she mutters out, the words blurting out of her mind as she rewinds his exact use of vocabulary she‘d just found, locked away in an isolated corner in her subconsciousness.
It’d be an understatement to say he looked puzzled by her startling demand.
"I’m not sure I follow, what do you mean?"
"Last summer when we were all together before leaving for Marley, when you volunteered to take Eren's titans so I wouldn't have to. Why exactly did you do that?" she pins him under her resilient gaze of scrutiny, not willing to look away from him and drop the subject before he tells her honestly why he'd put his life at risk for her in a heartbeat.
He remembers without needing to rummage through his memory first, having brought that particular moment up himself right after they became eye witnesses to Eren’s carnage.
"As I said, your Hizuran bloodline makes you too valuable an asset for Paradis and besides, to this day we still have no answer whether you can even transform into a titan. In a number of ways it’d be an unwise move, regardless of your personal decision."
It's an answer, but one she already knew and not even close to the one she was actually looking for.
But then again, what exactly was she looking for?
"And tons of reasons more, you mentioned, remember?"
If he really was so intent on sacrificing himself for her life and asks for her promise to let him do whatever he deems necessary tomorrow for her survival, then the least she could do in exchange was to know the whole reasoning behind his wish and not just be left in the dark.
After all, a promise between two consists of both participants.
Not like she was totally oblivious to what those reasons might be.
In truth, she's aware that this particular incident didn't even scratch the surface of all the ways his sincere solicitude towards her translated through his actions and merely represents a broken fragment of a bigger ensemble. One she had only begun paying attention to the more she had figured out and embraced the nature of her own feelings for the green eyed boy, recognizing a large portion of patterns in even the smallest of his gestures that she knew all too well herself.
Such as the times she had overheard him through the closed door during his regular check-ups, worried and asking the paramedics in the infirmary about the healing process of her ribs, not once announcing his visits out of an unsubstantiated fear of invading her comfort space despite being the one to save her from the titan's deadly clutches. Or how on their free days she'd occasionally catch his eyes fixed on her from across the group table before quickly deflecting her questioning look, either immersing himself in the novel in his hand again or engaging in a conversation with Connie and Sasha, acting as if nothing unordinary had transpired a few milliseconds ago.
Moreover, how with the passage of years spent side by side the number of stolen glances and simple words of reassurance he sent her way had increased significantly which in turn always offered her somewhat comfort during phases of distress.
Urging him to respond with an intense stare she searches through the blend of brownish and golden specks in his eyes, recognizing an open window that unveils a glimpse into the fearful boy still residing in him, even after maturing into the features of the astute man that she‘s come to hold in high esteem.
He stays unmoving though, as if indecisively ruminating through his thoughts, and slowly but surely the sturdy hold of his fingers entwined with hers dissipates.
She misses the warmth it provided immediately.
As she keeps waiting, wordlessly scanning every movement of his irises and counting each breath she takes, an almost inaudible sigh escapes her lips, deciding to give up on deciphering what he was thinking about and coming to terms that it's useless to waste any more time if he's never going to answer in the end.
Was he irritated and overwhelmed because he can't remember any of the reasons anymore?
Maybe he only said it in the spur of the moment as a means of getting her to not discuss the matter any further?
Why on earth is she reading so much into this to begin with?
"Just- forget that I asked, it won't be helping us out tomorrow anyway."
She shakes her head violently, removing her hand from his warm one.
"I’m sorry for bothering you with old, stupid stuff. You were right, I should get going and get some sleep."
Without sparing him another glance and ready to leave, she turns around and targets the exit with wide strides of her legs. To her surprise it doesn't take two intakes of breath until she already hears the hastened sound of his approaching steps emerge from behind her, catching up to her quicker than she thought he would.
She feels his strong hand catching her arm mid way and holding her back from walking away.
"Wait, don't go yet-" he exhales.
Yet before whatever it was he wanted to say could even fill the air, a vehement torrent strikes them, destabilizing the ground beneath with an unforeseen force and making her lose the balance in her footing despite her lightning fast instincts kicking in to steady her full weight from being pulled by the might of the impact.
In the haze of the rush of adrenaline released and sent to her body in the blink of an eye, the last thing she feels is her elbow slamming into something solid and before she has the chance to put together what was happening around her, a high-pitched shriek along with a sharp inhale had already rung in her ears and with a snap, her world turned black.
…
Pressing her eyes shut, her reflexes and muscles prepared to brace themselves for the inevitable impact of the high tide crashing against the ship, she counts the seconds yet comes to the realization that it would never come after what felt like an unbearably long time.
With her senses slowly coming back again, her shoulders pulled up to her neck and still quaking ever so lightly, she started catching her breath again, realizing that instead of the cold steel she had expected it was unyielding softness that she held onto with the grip of her hands. Only after picking up the sound and feel of continual breathing that wasn't her own upon the back of her head, she's pulled back to the physical world again, her eyes suddenly blinking wide open to Jean in her view.
More precisely, Jean's heaving chest being the view.
Not only did he manage to catch her before her knees could collapse and meet the ground, but she also realizes her hands had reached out for him in the mist of the moment and were now firmly gripping two handfuls of his shirt, the white fabric of it surely creasing from her nails digging deeper into the relentless skin of his abdomen, detecting it to be much more rugged than she would have ever allowed herself to imagine.
Darting her eyes up the width of his chest towards his bent neck, she finds his enduring gaze already fixed on her, towering above her and wandering fleetingly across the hollows and elevations in her face before landing on her almond shaped eyes again, the never ending connection evoking a strange longing within her to drown herself in his honey colored reflections.
Outside of their combat training they had never stood so close to each other and from the almost unnoticeable part of his mouth she knew the same thought was crossing his mind too.
A tremble runs through her vessels when she feels a tug on her lower back, causing her breathing to get hampered as she instantaneously becomes aware of what exactly had just tightened its hold around her form. Without breaking the contact of their eyes, she concentrates, no , relishes his hands clutching at the curve of her waist, each his fingers unwavering on the toned flesh underneath and prepared as though she could stumble backwards any given moment.
She couldn't tell apart whether she hates or loves the way his warm touch melts their surroundings so effortlessly.
And how easily it makes her weak in her knees.
Because she can't recall a single instance in which Jean's touch had lingered on her longer than was necessary, longer than was considered appropriate. Not when he had accidentally brushed his arms against her, nor when he had assisted her in fastening the new maneuvering equipment gear. He had always been conscious to remain a distance. And yet it seems this time would be the first he won't remove himself from her.
Taking the opportunity, she inspects him in the partial obscurity of the room, watching the faint light create a play of shadows on his features, accentuating the definition of his cheekbones and the bow of his lips. Her eyes move upwards to his slightly disheveled hair, now cascading over his forehead from the tilt of his head, his calm breath fanning over the bridge of her nose and stirring away stray strands as well as eliciting a sensation in her stomach unbeknownst to her.
Though one that she was willing to let herself sink in.
Her hands travel up his torso, landing right above where his quickening heart beneath sends a wave of heat through her body and she's almost certain his shadow looming over her frame does nothing to conceal the burning tint on her blood-rushed skin. Spurred on, she bends her neck closer to him and he responds in kind, leaning down slowly until the little air left between them is too suffocating, too thin for the both of them to consume. With their faces barely an inch apart now, they breath in the other's air, nose nudging against nose.
"You really wanna know the reasons I couldn't let you inherit his titans?" he asks against the curve of her cheek, his hoarse voice sending palpably low vibrations as they resonate where her fingers etch into his covered chest, further inducing the acceleration of her pulse.
His mouth hovers dangerously over hers, separated only by the distance of her impending answer to his question and oddly, she finds herself curious to know what his lips would taste like, saving any sense of remaining sanity for later to deal with.
Releasing a deep breath she didn't know she'd been holding in, she timidly yet unhesitatingly nods against his nose and without delay he raises his right hand on her waist up to her neck, moving her jaw with a swiftness that comes to him as easy as spelling his own name, bringing her closer until she lastly feels him bridging the stifling gap and catching her already parted lips.
Upon contact, a nameless sensation takes over her body in an instant, mind shut down and only her senses awakened, accommodating to the naturality of his careful lips and soon opening her mouth to mirror his movements. Not missing any of the movements of their connected mouths as they flow together in a dance drowning out the mild sway from the rampage of the untame waves and instead making her hyper aware of every little spark ignited from his gentle kisses that seemed to be as patient as himself.
And as tentatively tactful as the words he gives to her that they just could not belong to anyone else.
Nothing exists outside of their pliable lips as they softly brush against each other in alternation and she finds herself appealed to the slightly rough texture of his chapped lips, angling her head to savor the feeling of his stubble poking coarsely into her face, more abundant in growth than usual, having not yet found a chance to trim it short since they’d been on the run as declared deserters to the nation.
The drumming beat under her touch speeds up steadily and her breathing gets more shallow each time they pull away to come up to the surface.
Only minimally though before gravity draws their exploring lips into its field together and they submerge themselves to inhale each other once again, their mingled breath seemingly their preferred source of oxygen in the room.
He buries his fingers in the back of her head, massaging it and she responds to his touch with enthusiasm, wrapping her hands around his neck with a strong pull, receiving a small noise that rises from his throat and echoes within her cavity, causing her heart to skip a beat.
It is him who pulls back completely first, lightly brushing over her lower lip as they eventually disconnect. With foreheads pressed together they exhale in shaky puffs and catch for air. Their hands still hold onto the other and linger in the encompassing comfort from the vitality they both had just radiated into the room.
Neither of them says anything to disrupt the prevailing silence, not from the shortness of breath but because there simply was nothing to be said. Their eyelids remain closed and she swears she can still sense the delicate feel of his lips on her while their feet don't dare to even move an inch from their spot, glued on the floor in the belief this finite place would otherwise fall apart around them too soon. And damning them to return to being deadly weapons again, in a war where all odds stood against them.
The thick tension emanating from their physical closeness had sedimented itself and warmed the atmosphere. It had made their hard won armor on which their scars could tell tales and sing legends about crumble down piece by piece. Had broken it down into fragments until they no longer were the commanding prodigy and the poised titan slayer everyone feared but only Jean and Mikasa, their very core.
Just two young people with manlike dreams and fears as anyone else yet who'd been robbed of their youth and young adulthood before they even had the chance to hold someone with affection and let themselves desire. To have someone else's skin graze their sensitive bodies with carnivorous intent and be guided by their most repressed nature with no barriers inhibiting them, the heat of it more fervent than the colossal titans marching towards the poles of the earth and more consuming than the fire in the deepest pits of purgatory awaiting them to serve their sentence.
The yearning for all of that was still there. It has always been remnant in them, forsaken somewhere deep in unlit corners in their souls along with the old memory that they are in fact nothing more than humans.
Weak, scared, fragile beings in both mind and heart and so small, their individual stories entirely meaningless in view of the gigantic scale of the world. Too many of them viciously greedy and barbaric to the point of pure inhumaneness and still at the same time they were also aspiring, cordial and always in hope for the next day to be easier.
But most of all, what all humans have in common is that they are utterly selfish.
And all she can think of, that she can put her mind around, is how their predetermined lives were too short, too pathetic to be enough for all the suffering they had endured.
If this wasn't the time to be selfish for once, when then?
"Jean," she breathes out, her voice barely above an absent murmur and she wonders for a moment if he could even make it out against the wind howling unsparingly outside the round portholes revealing the monstrous waves.
But only a fraction of a second later the lonely syllable she had let out in the dense openness seemingly arrives at its designation as two of his fingers start carding the backside of her hair and run through its short length one by one, his silent acknowledgement telling her to continue what she’d started.
Would she allow herself this?
Dedicate your hearts they had said, repeated again and again until the pledge was carved into their very purpose. From early on, when they'd been still too clueless and innocent to imagine what it would cost them, they had sworn to live by a codex which they had sacrificed their shells and themselves for.
But when would they have the courage to dedicate themselves to their hearts?
Pushing his hand deeper into the thick mass, he curls his fingers to feel her scalp and abruptly - yet in no way surprisingly - an irrational longing for him to just turn her around on the spot and pull on the ends and drink in its scent overruns her, a series of blurry pictures she had never seen before flashing before her eyes and she finds herself wanting to know what they would look like.
Slowly, she traces her index finger up the line of his neck, her tongue already speaking before she could rationalize any of the shameless images running free.
"I don't want to spare any more thoughts on the bloodshed we performed today, on the cries of mothers screaming for their children or on tomorrow, asking myself whose wounds we will have to patch up or whom we'll have to say goodbye to first. Just this once..." taking a deep breath, she lets her finger follow the path of his jaw and, even though he tries to hide it, she catches him flinching.
"Even if it will only last for a fleeting moment, I want to feel what it’s like to be human."
"Mikasa..."
He sounds so far removed from the way she's usually heard him call out her name. Not immeasurably kind like a smooth balm coating her heart and the worries that came along, instead dangerously needy despite trying his hardest to force it under control, the serious warning laced in her name and as apparent as her desperate call for escape.
But prideful as she is, she doesn't shrink away from the menace in his voice. If anything, it had only made her even more daring to cross the invisible border and finally look up, meeting his unbending gaze.
"If all we have is this one night to flee from everything, I don't- I can't spend it alone with the constant company of my thoughts eating me alive. So please…"
This is the place of no return.
With stout intent, she maintains eye contact, seeing her open conviction cast back in the ink of his dilated pupils and furthermore, taking note of something unrecognizable beyond.
"Me neither."
And as soon as the last syllable had left his mouth, he'd already pounced forward and recaptured her lips between his again with a ferocity entirely different from a moment ago, an insatiable appetite she had never seen in Jean before, but not unwelcomed at all.
In an instant, she corresponds and parts her mouth just as eagerly, feeling an extensive surge of heat flood her insides as even the last remaining threads of composure overstrain and break, the ends coming loose and clouding her sobriety. Encouraged by the urgent touch of his lips she angles her head compliably, throwing her arms around the blades of his shoulders in an unreasoned agitation that he could vanish any time otherwise.
Before she could even register what was happening, something solid hit her back accompanied by a loud clank bouncing off the metal walls. Their clung forms remain unstirred by the sound except for her surprised gasp muted by their locked mouths. Catching half glimpses of his face only sparsely through the ardor of their kisses, she realizes he had her pressed against the heavy door, now shut from the impact of their combined bodyweight. Almost animal-like, they move in a messy harmony with noses brushing and foreheads bumping, devouring the other's taste as a wolf would with its prey.
But not quite, for they both are hungry wolves.
Drowning in the intoxication of their uncoordinated movements and possessed under the influence of yet another new force, she takes their sloppy interplay to a next level and pushes ahead, gingerly letting her tongue slip into his widened mouth, something she'd once seen a few girls at the garrison do in private outside of an ominous pub when they hadn't been on duty and - to her abashment - had taken a secretive interest ever since.
A guttural groan escaped the back of his throat immediately at the initial brush of their tongues and he begins to mirror the lewd advance by inviting her even further, drawing out a shallow pant from her lips.
Their bodies are flush together and there's no single spot where she cannot feel the hard outline of his resilient shape. The heat is consuming and the barely existing air between them scorching even, yet still it’s nowhere near enough for either of them. Without noticing, her hands had already gone up to the collar of his shirt, fumbling and searching for the tiny buttons holding it together without pulling away from their pursuit.
There are too many layers separating them.
Hastily, his hand shoots up, helping her with undoing the bothersome buttons and she could swear she hadn't just imaged the breathless “ fuck” he’d let out as she finished removing the last one from its hole. Wriggling his arms out of the piece of clothing, she briefly glances at him unceremoniously throwing the fabric somewhere - because it doesn't matter where - before she returns to his waiting lips again and runs her hands over his firm upper body, her mindless touch roaming over everything she could possibly grab hold of.
In the meantime he'd already reached for the belt of her night robe, untying it in no time. Without a heed of care, she lets it drop to the floor, now clad only in the plain nightdress clinging to her shape like a fitting glove, leaving nothing to imagination. The constant exchange of their rising body temperature compensates for the cold meeting her exposed arms.
And still, it wasn't anywhere near enough.
"You can touch me" she demands in between, searching for his hand that was doing nothing but awkwardly linger in the air to push it down to the thin cotton of her garment, right above her chest where she feels his heat spread and seep through the textile as she swallows his shaky breaths.
"I want you to."
He doesn't need to be told twice. Pulling away, he starts assaulting her neck instead, latching his mouth whilst fondling her breast through the nightdress and she can't help but let out a small whimper at the obscenity of it all. Tracing his hot lips along neck and shoulder, he leaves open-mouthed kisses on her collarbone and where her pulse lies underneath, sucking gently on the flesh.
With her senses overpowered by an endless river of stimuli, she feels his hands travel lower and lower, the cotton material wrinkling slightly. Wherever his exploring fingers brush over, his lips follow along without missing any spot on sight, clothed or not. Dropping himself to his knees, his hands on her abdomen inch further downwards until they rest on her leg. Keeping her eyes locked onto his, she observes him picking at the hem that had rolled up her knees and lifting it up bit by bit, baring her pale thighs.
Trembling at the contact of his torturously slow touch wandering and exposing more of her skin, she catches a hint of a mischievous smirk forming in the low light and suddenly, copying the ascending movement of his determined hands, he places a trail of caresses up the length of her thigh.
It is only when she feels his breath graze over the inner side that she squirms, overwhelmed by a tightening sensation gripping her legs and the part between. Having lost even the last bit of control over her bodily reactions, her eyelids close on their own and a shameless moan emerges and escapes her lungs before she could even suppress it, rewarding her with a grunt of his own.
"I can't resist you anymore, Mikasa…" she hears him rasp against her from below. And judging by the tension and contractions in her belly that become more intense and more unable to take with every planted kiss of his, she believes to share the same struggle.
"Then don't."
The words are simple, leaving her as casually as they had crossed her mind and bearing such an immense weight that required two people to support it.
From above, she stares at his frozen form, supposing her lips must be just as swollen as his. Raising his head to meet her penetrant eyes, she sends him a look painted with unconcealed desire and he understands.
Two consecutive bats of his eyelashes. That's all it takes for her breath to hitch as he lifts her in his clasp unannounced with his long arms encircling her slender legs, too wobbly from their ravenous act that sparked jolts of pleasure everywhere below her hip region to even stand upright properly. Carrying her across the room, he seats himself in one of the chairs at the large table with her sitting on top.
Aware of their pressed chests heaving in synchrony amidst the settling moment of rest, they stay still and recover in the serene comedown together, the flames having ceased blazing like the spreading of a forest fire and the low light bathing their silhouettes in its glow reminding rather of the coziness provided by a campfire.
And in a way it's even more exhilarating, having regained her senses and finally seeing him whole.
Averting her view from his ignited eyes, she lets her gaze rake over his shirtless physique, wandering from the sculpted lines of his muscles decorating his abdomen to the abrasive strap marks from their gear chiseled across his upper body and disappearing into his back behind the shoulders, the bruised red routes unmissable and only all too familiar.
Then, with the feathery touch of the backside of her hand, she allows herself to move down the surface of his arm, admiring the jagged flow of prominent veins stretching down from elbow to his wrist and fingers, like lightning tattooed on his skin. Like the fine roots of a plant spreading out and anchoring itself in the soil.
As she traces a soft finger along the patterns, his other hand skirts higher up her night dress and he places a train of chaste butterfly kisses where arm and shoulder joint meet, the thin straps having already fallen down.
"Are you sure about this? We can stop anytime if you change your mind."
"I know what I want, Jean. Even though I‘ve never done any of this until now." she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t feel at least little frightened.
Perhaps it was just healthy nervousness that she could attribute it to, the thrilling kind that gets people hooked. Combined with the fact she knows pretty much nothing about his prior experiences, let alone the state of his love life.
He stops in his tracks, eyeing her with a look she could only describe as adorable.
"That makes us two then." his face splits into a wide beam, proving her suspicions to be mere groundless premonition.
Oh.
She doesn’t know why she expected the opposite, thinking him to be acquainted with girls and boys alike.
But she’s grateful that they could learn together.
Like they had always done before.
Enclasping his hands that were still gripping the semi-sheer material, she guides him up her body, paying special attention to how he doesn’t hide his watchful eyes as she lifts up her arms to undress, letting the light fabric drop unceremoniously next to where her unprotected toes meet the chill of the floor.
She feels a little flower bloom in her chest when he begins mimicking her previous movements, eyes and fingers lovingly wandering up and down both the curves and well-defined edges of her silhouette, every one of his touch filled with care and vigilance to detail akin to the precision of a sculptor that was marveling at his newly finished work of art. Gliding over the shared marks of war back and forth, running over the rough flesh on her legs where belts had been buckled around as though he could make them disappear from the canvas that is her body with just the faint ghost of his touch.
A testimony that their bodies had never been in their possession in the first place, that they have and will always be nothing but pawns belonging to others. However, in this fragment of time they could pretend and see beyond their layers of guilt. They can give themselves to each other, reveling in the sweet illusion of what people they could have been, albeit only for a moment.
Gently landing on her calm chest, he cups her breast around one of his hands, stroking over the soft skin with his thumb and sending swells of pleasure down her spine, each swell pooling in her nether regions and intensifying the sensation. She releases a soundless breath as he lightly brushes over her nipple, the tip immediately hardened at his warm touch, and he leans forward, raining a trail of chaste kisses from the tender spot between her breasts, following the lean line down to her navel, all the while bringing attention to and caressing her leg with his other hand.
He comes to a rest atop her upper thigh, his fingers now incredibly close to the only remaining part of her body that wasn't unclothed, and from his grip digging into her she can tell that his pursuit doesn't wouldn’t come to an end here.
Not that she‘d oppose the sentiment.
"Can I?"
A weak smile tugs at her lips. She doesn't need to consider her answer and gives him a curt nod.
With exploring strive, he slips one cautious finger beneath the band of her underwear, the foreign touch causing every fiber of her being to tense in a moment of instilled pudency but gradually growing accustomed to the yet unbeknownst feeling of touches that don’t belong to her.
A quiet puff escapes her lungs as he adds another finger onto her pool of heat.
And after that, a third. The other digits follow the former, his ever-watching gaze half probing and half inquisitive as he attentively studies the likes of her body, testing and slowly but surely paving his way out of his own inexperience.
She can‘t contain the twitch in her muscles when his fingertip suddenly lands on the small bundle of nerves concealed between her folds and its instantaneous effect certainly doesn‘t remain unnoticed.
Jean, having found the very same sweet spot that had made her come undone in hot sweat and collapse into her mattress with raspy pants from the sheer weight of ecstasy during her loneliest of nights, quickly assesses her need for more as she - without delay – grips strongly on the anchor that was his neck and shoulders, adding onto the pressure of his fingers.
‘’Does this feel good?“ he asks against the shell of her ear while holding her secure, long arms snaked around the slope of her spine, double-checking her enthusiastic reaction just in case.
Still keeping her focus on the tiny jolts of unadulterated arousal spreading in every direction, all she could manage was to mumble an incomprehensible jumble of whimpered sounds in response to his earnest question. Nevertheless, he understands.
He understands by the approving neediness in the way her hips had nearly instantly pushed down and met his unresting hand in the middle, seeking to enhance the temporary experience they wouldn‘t have access to revisit again once it was over.
So she capitulates for the first time ever and lets herself go entirely, allowing her eyes to shut without paying heed to the endless swirl of tormenting voices stirring up memories of loss, animosity and remorse.
Of an all too familiar forest and mountains taken away from her too soon to have been called hers. Of innocent races on cobbled pathways and trampled meadows. Of chaining cloaks weighing down juvenile bodies and stealing their dearest aspirations.
Of a blue horizon, vast and feared, encompassing the lonely and burdened devil, waves swallowing him whole right in front of her witnessing eyes.
And instead, opting to listen only to the pleasurable sensations piling up, one after another, to one large confining pit of lust in her lower belly region, and immersing herself fully to the addicting way it makes her skin prickle everywhere, leaving no patch unaffected by the advances of his roving hand‘s growing in intensity and picking up on the same assured boldness she‘s come to admire in him. That she had even envied him for, on more occasions than she‘d ever let herself admit.
Previously calculating strokes on the small of her back speed up as ambitious fingers start digging deeper and grazing imperfectly shaped circles on her sensitive nub and quiet moans bounce off the walls of their steeled surroundings, steadily increasing in volume.
She couldn’t pick up on his constant breathing in her ear anymore, drowned out by her own heartbeat drumming and pounding against her ribcage. He continues to hold her firm against him when her muscles tense up and toes disrupt their contact with the cold floor. Losing a great amount of feeling in her legs, she throws one arm around his shoulder and muffles her shaky whimpers, releasing them into the hollow of her elbow as she rubs herself on him, feeling the slick product of her incitement coat him, as well as discovering a source of resistance pressing from below its origin she had quickly recognized, a sense of mutual clarity setting in between them.
Eventually, their joined bodies adopt a much slower approach and her eyes flutter open when he stills his palm and rests his other on her jaw, loosened from all the profane vowels she had failed to keep shackled.
Not that she really cared to though, she figures as her gaze lands on Jean, taking the time she needs to fully encapsulate his somewhat inebriated image and memorizing how his evident excitement had etched itself on his enticed exterior.
In his slightly parted lips, in the pale specks of red dusting his nose and cheeks. And in his lids that had grown heavy and weary, yet still he keeps his attention indulgently lingered on her, eyes mesmerized by and never averting the delightful sight.
If it weren‘t for the cruel finality of this deceitful night, she‘d be convinced she could get used to it. To the thrills of being seen - observed by the very same person who‘d proven to be nothing but infinitely compassionate with her and would always go out his way by miles to tiptoe around subjects like dangerous terrain so as not to cause her any more hurt than she already needed to endure. All of it without once sacrificing his well-respected honesty in exchange for his gentleness concerning her.
It was no mystery to the members of the Corps, nor something striking to make a big thing out of. She‘s certain that almost everyone, at one point or another, took notice of the soft spot he had for the intimidating soldier that was always keen on maintaining her position in the obscured background. A self-evident given no one would even start to question thus never addressed as a matter needing any further regard.
Though it‘s surprising to her that up until now she‘d always thought herself to be better than to impassively watch her feelings be spared by any man as if she were a weak and defenseless woman unable to stick up to herself, having to play the receiving end of someone else‘s protection and special treatment designated for her only.
And yet, she cannot bring herself to refuse his care. Rather finding herself yearning to shed her mantle for once, woven of her attained pride, and give herself permission to not just be treated with utmost diligence by him, but also dwell in her suppressed frailty.
It‘d certainly give the world all the more reasons to dub her heartless for taking advantage of her friend‘s nature.
She really was utterly -
‘‘There‘s something bothering you.“
Torn from her foreboding gloom, gold cuts through polished silver whilst he tucks away unruly strands of hair, the tender act of it prompting her to reveal more to his straightforward deduction if she felt comfortable enough doing so. She sees no point in hiding it.
’’I‘m a terrible person. For keeping you here, using you just to keep myself distracted. And doing this to you.’’ she blurts out bluntly, the words monotonous and her vacant stare descending for a split moment in a subtle nod towards the blatant confirmation in his trousers.
Shaking his head, partly from amusement and partly from affinity, he draws closer.
’’Mikasa, whatever any of this here implies doesn't matter to me and it never will. Hell , this could make you terrible and me a foolish moron for all I care - which I am. You know I‘d follow your every step as long as you want me to. Isn’t that why you asked me in the first place?’’
With blank eyes trained on his oh so docile mien, the glimpse of it resembling that of a pious believer misguided by the lure of a false deity, she muses on his question which seems to unravel itself as faultless observation on his part.
And his words. They were so reminiscent of all those precious emotions she‘d dedicated to him , culminating into a wuthering gale that fate wouldn’t allow her to finally put a name on. Seeds of feelings so strong, sometimes contradictory and sometimes not, that she had ardently carried with her and cultivated with what little tending her past could offer. Locked up in the scarce confinements of her being that she‘d still viewed as untainted and whole, saplings intended to fulfill their purpose at a time beyond forever.
Blind hope made her wait and wait. Wisdom however only came to her after realizing that while faith may be limitless to few, it was just a matter of time for everyone’s patience to wear thin.
It’s at that very moment she registers hers snapping, feeling the full impact of the avalanche amass abruptly and creating a narrowing lump in her throat.
She wants it so bad, was it too much to ask for?
To mourn the unkind truth that no amount of compensation could fill the hole her sacrifice had left. To finally give her repressed need to cherish and hand out affection to those she considers dearest a fitting closure that was long overdue.
She’s on the verge of falling into a pit of anxiety and it must be showing, otherwise he wouldn’t be raising her chin with a desolate finger with so much caution as he does now, trying to get a glance at her. He opens his mouth, another question dancing on his tongue, but before he can even draw air to speak she dives down in no time, taking those lonely lips and seizing his gasp before she has the slightest chance to think about the heedless impulse.
Stunned like a statue, it takes Jean a few seconds to react with an equally charged fervor, planting both his hands on her bum and occupying himself with plying the taut buttocks. The uniting energy pulls her in like a magnet, closing the barely visible distance and she pours her all into the action.
If the universe or whoever up there was so adamant on not granting her love, then the least she supposes she could do is spit on the heavenly laws and claim what‘s rightfully hers through making love with the reliable man at her side who wouldn‘t hesitate the slightest bit to be here for her in whatever shape or form she wants him.
So she takes it a step further and rocks her groin back and forth against her earlier finding, heightening the sensual friction that connects their swaying bodies.
Airy whiffs of satiation start leaving his lips and suddenly, a potent surge of curiosity fogs her senses and she‘s maddened by it immediately, fingers quick to try and fumble for his zipper but only bumping into his impatient ones coming to her aid, having already discerned her intent.
A stifled squeal of relief emanates from her mouth, signaled by the loud zip of his undone trousers. Without waiting for him, she thoughtlessly grabs for the erect target at hand in exhilarating haste, committed fully to returning him the favor.
A shiver gets stuck at the back of his throat when she comes in direct contact with him, freeing his rigid arousal from his constricting underpants and beginning to trail her fingers softly along the surprisingly velvety texture.
His lips grow more demanding, teeth clashing, as she skims over the delicate surface, noting its remarkable size in the back of her mind.
Seized by zealous thirst in spite of her lack of knowledge concerning the opposite sex, she puts all her trust into her innate instincts and wraps a meticulous hand around him, imagination driving her crazy when she finds herself unable to enclasp his entire thickness as she handles his head.
He's throbbing under her warm touch and pants against her with increasing unsteadiness, interrupting the purposeful kisses that had turned sloppy by now.
She doesn't pass up the opportunity and showers an abundance of small pecks all over his flushed face.
The response is instant. Agitatedly, he encloses her grasp with his own and urges her to stroke him faster. Her hand complies with his wordless instruction and takes on a twisting pattern, starting from the tip and moving down to the base in frenzied repetitions.
"Holy shit…" his growl prickles in her ears and devilish as she is, she makes it her very next objective to hear more from his unchained, alluring side.
"Is this okay like this?" she whispers, a kittenish smile materializing as she rains caresses under his eyes drunken with desire, on his chin and his temple, generous lips wandering aimlessly.
"Are you kidding me, you're fucking perfect." he whimpers hoarsely and the thought of working obscene wonders on him sends inflaming tingles all over her, making her body squirm in search for physical alleviation which she doubted she could put off any longer.
Raising herself off his legs, she scoots closer to him, face now pulled away from his to get a clearer sight. He cooperates right away, positioning himself to align with her soaking entrance.
Though neither had made mention of it, they both had glimpsed the dark patch she‘s left on his trousers.
They proceed to move with highest prudence and she feels her nervousness emerge again when his head brushes against her lips and parts her open, worried if she can even take him as she lowers herself on him.
He appears to have read her concern and stoops forward, letting one hand graze over her breast before he flicks his tongue over the tip while using the other to touch her core again.
Inch by inch she inserts his member into her, her natural lubrication building with his thoughtful assistance.
But gravity seems to have a mind of its own.
In a sudden, she’s yanked down and accidentally slips in, a sharp sting causing her to give out a yelp.
"Woah, woah, easy there!“ he’d already looped his arms around her thighs, lifting her off him while checking her face for signs of possible injury frantically.
‘‘You don't have to force it all the way in, it‘s fine."
She blinks at him, catching her breath whilst recovering from the initial shock.
An indefinite amount of seconds passes before she finds her speech again.
"I‘m-“ she swallows hard, feeling the stabbing ache that had just cut through her subside as she processes the panic that thankfully unveiled itself to be short-lived.
‘‘I‘m okay now, it only hurt a bit. Besides, I‘m used to much more pain, you don’t have to worry about me."
"Of course you are." he reaffirms, brushing his lips over her faded scar as he says so.
"Still, take it slow, alright?"
His soft gesture has her melting and she nuzzles into him, taking his words to heart before planting her palms on his torso and gently ordering him to lean back. He submits to her orders without any trace of back talk, welcoming her ambitious wish to take charge.
Ever so carefully, she staggers through trial and error, eventually managing to find an angle that neither was awkward to hold, nor uncomfortable to bear after a couple of tries.
Halfway in, she chooses to go with her intuition to make up for the prudish education they’d received as young pubescents, teaching them that abstinence was the only dependable contraception.
She listens to her body only and bounces up and down his member.
One, two, three times…
And it takes her a while until the discomfort fully dissipates and turns into a distinctive feeling which she knows no better way to describe other than being filled . But she gets the hang of it.
Light noises cascade out of her, spilt hums and gasps blending together in an euphoric stream.
Her dragging movements have him enamored, hypnotized even. With elbows propped up on the table behind him, he flickers his keen gaze ceaselessly between her and where his length disappears into her depths.
Going lower, she lays her hands flat on his abdomen and scratches her nails over the rising and falling surface, the cadence paralleling the slow pace she had set.
She begins rolling her hips in an obtuse mess of letters and her breathing immediately turns heavy. The tantalizing motions seem to not only increase the friction on her small nub as rapid, low exhales escape him every time her walls clench around him.
He is in a fatal place of surrender, his lean frame at her mercy, and she couldn’t deny that she relishes exerting this sort of unarming power over him. As though staring directly at the blinding sun, he watches her through half-lidded eyes and writhes underneath her control.
It’s captivating. A sight to behold.
His fingers are gripping the edge of the table and turning pale from the pressure. His hair tousled and streaked with fresh sweat. The way his mouth forms an O, releasing uninhibited moans and singing praises when she goes faster.
Spectating him had made her wonder if she looks just as wild to him.
It turns her into a mad woman, an unrecognizable version of herself who is now raising her arm towards him, stroking over the refined outline of his bottom lip and pushing her thumb into his open mouth - just because she can - all sense of shame thrown out the window.
Savoringly, he bites on it, the accompanying grunt languid and making the bristles on her body stand up like a roses's thorns. Transcending the here and now, his head tilts back into his neck and he simmers with the pleasure radiating off him.
But she cannot get enough of being a tease, so she pulls him back into this ship.
"Don’t you dare look away from me." she purrs, her voice husky.
Competitiveness gets the better of her, the demand brazen and hinting at a playful invitation. He obeys, focusing on the challenging glint in her gaze calling upon him to take the bait and accept the bet.
He’s on edge, agonizingly so.
If he gives in, she’d be the winner in more ways than one. And the involuntary jerks of his hips tell her it won’t be long until he couldn’t withhold himself anymore.
Her rhythmic flow contorts his face, the glare beneath darkening as he locks eyes with her.
‘‘I stepped in for you that day because I couldn‘t handle it.“ she feels him hiss against her finger through gritted teeth, her confusion bubbling up.
‘‘What-‘‘
But the question remains forever unsaid when a push hoists her up and knocks all air out of her lungs.
Falling forward into his arms, ready and waiting, deprived lips already begin attacking her burning neck.
‘‘I couldn’t handle watching you have so little regard for yourself.“
His bare words leave imprints on her collar as he fucks into her, no longer caring to exercise restraint.
‘‘Jean!“ she yells out, grabbing for his biceps when he hits a new found spot deep inside her and she feels herself getting even wetter.
‘‘Shit… keep going!“
The shrilling sound of the chair scraping against the ground could hardly be heard as he got up from it without wasting a second.
Maps, scrapped plans and whatnots flutter down when her back hits the polished conference table with a thump. Once he has her in this position, he catches her hands and pins them down on either side of her face before she could even think about where to place them.
‘‘Deep down, I never really stopped hating his guts whenever you were so quick to be reckless and hell-bent on putting your safety on the line when his was in danger.“ He plays with her earlobe, his pained growl drawing out moan after moan from her.
Hard thrusts slam into her with increasing vigor as she widens her legs, each push shooting strikes of electricity up her nerves.
‘‘I volunteered ‘cause you deserve to live on and call the few good things the world has to offer your own.“
She begs him for release, sensing her fluids stain the inner of her thighs. He too nears his climax, clear in the growing strain in his voice.
‘‘I’d do anything for you to take back your old life, far away from war, responsibilities and dumb lineages. Even if I’ll never have the chance to see for myself the kind of woman you would grow into.“
Raw, humid odors graze her tingling skin and her vision blacks out into a dizzy mess, her whole body squirming at his stupid , lovely words. Almost instantly, thunder erupts in her and seeps through her cells. Their fingers interlace as she groans loudly, orgasm washing over her.
He follows soon, thrusting a couple more times before he pulls out and finishes with a final moan, collapsing on top of her.
Without realizing, exhaustion takes over the serenity of the scene. Only moments later, jaded breaths die out and silence returns again. Their spent bodies are still embracing each other, holding tight as they listen to the swaying of the boat.
Immersed in their shared refuge, he is first to untangle and drill through the illusory bubble, zooming in on her tired eyes.
‘‘Those were the reasons. And all I ask from you is to not take this away from me, it's all I have left. Tell me Mikasa, do I have your word?’’
The sound of his beaten voice shatters her and she curses the gods once again.
She’d never want him to but at the same time, she knew there was no stopping him.
With nothing else left for her to do, she buries her hand into his drenched mane and pulls on it, nestling into him in defeat.
Misery, dread, devotion kiss her cheeks goodbye and she’s greeted with sizzling salt.
Whose tears, she doesn’t know.