The cabin they build for themselves is a modest space. It reminds Mikasa of her first home, tucked away in nature's peaceful embrace along with memories of her childhood. She recalls her father hunting in the early hours of morning, her mother planting vegetables in the garden, both of them showing her a love that was real.
She glances sidelong at Eren and wonders if they could ever build a life like that.
He offers to use his titan to build their house quickly, wanting to shelter them from rain and cold nights. It seemed unfair to her in the beginning, watching him pick up much of the slack and toil, but he reassures her he doesn't mind. To make up for it, she takes rein of the finer tasks – building furniture, learning to cook with a wood-fire oven, carving out tools for hunting and walking miles to the nearest town to trade any extra game for coin and seeds.
Every night, she comes home with sore wrists and calloused fingers. She hides the limp in her gait to conceal the accident she sustained from slipping on the mountainous rocks. Eren is just as exhausted, and the cumulative stress of assuming his titan form throughout the day takes a toll on his body and he often collapses to sleep.
Despite everything, it feels surreal – coming home to him. Just the two of them. And even though this work spares them little time to indulge or even speak to each other, the smile on his face when he sees her at the end of the day is always enough.
Eren has been quiet since they arrived. Maybe even a little withdrawn, but he's been that way for a while now. It is apparent in the way he works, always rising early in the morning and refusing to stop until nightfall. He welcomes the distraction, and doesn't mind keeping busy. His manner is subdued, as he offers no complaints and shows no anger – a true testament to how much he's changed from the brash, tantrum-prone child he used to be.
He's changed in other ways too, particularly when it concerns her.
He waves off her apologies for meals she's burnt while learning to cook. He always tells her to come home safe when she leaves for town, and offers his shoulder to rest when her head or her heart feels heavy. He even goes so far as calling her out for hiding her injuries and pain, and it leads to the first time he gazes at her with such heavy disappointment. She says she didn't want him to worry, and he's quick to point out the hypocrisy in this old habit.
Mikasa revokes her statement, and apologizes instead.
Their first argument ends with a mutual promise not to hide from each other, and she wraps her arms around him. She is ridden with guilt as she hides her face in his shoulder, but he pulls her close, hushes her muttered apologies and tells her she's forgiven.
"Two bedrooms? Is that necessary?" Mikasa asks, careful not to hint at discontent with her tone.
It's clear the topic weighs heavy on his mind; Eren hasn't touched his plate since they sat down for supper. He's been quieter than usual today.
"Maybe not necessary, but I'd feel more comfortable knowing we slept in different rooms, even if it's temporary," he explains slowly, eyes cast downwards.
She bites her lip and shrinks in her seat. "Is it because of me?"
He looks up then, catches the forlorn look in her eyes and backtracks immediately. He reaches for her hand, attempts to dissolve the confusion. "God, no. Of course not. I just… I don't sleep well at night."
Her face falls. "Nightmares?"
Eren exhales a sigh and nods once. "Sometimes my dreams are so vivid I can't tell what's real, and all I can do is…react," he answers, struggling for a better word to describe him thrashing in the night, gripping the sheets for purchase, scratching and clawing until his skin tears.
An image of him waking up and mistaking her for an enemy flashes across his mind and he winces, damned if that were ever to happen. He shakes his head, throws off the image by squeezing her hand.
"I don't want you getting hurt if it can be avoided," he says, a sense of finality punctuating his words.
She frowns. "You're not going to hurt me."
"We don't know that."
"Then at least, let me help."
He draws in a breath. "Mikasa. The memories never go away completely. Sometimes, it doesn't seem to matter how much I try."
She leans back, notes the word 'memories' as opposed to dreams. Eren rarely speaks about this alternate reality, and if he keeps pushing her away, she doubt she will ever understand.
"We should be facing this together," she quietly reminds.
"I know," he whispers with a rattled breath, the quiet admission more for himself than anything. "But…please, Mikasa. I don't mean to shut you out. All I'm asking for is time."
He's dwindling into mild desperation now. She can tell by the trembling grip on her hand, one she tries to quiet by placing her other hand above his. He means well, she knows. And right now, she's left with little choice but to tolerate the sting, wait it out and trust him.
"Fine," she says, gently cupping his face so he can look at her. "Only for now."
He lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
The structure of their house is finished now, leaving only the interior to furnish. At the same time, they've developed a stable routine with each other. It is a hard-learned lesson that nothing is ever earned without trials or hardship. In fact, this is the only way the days get easier. The roof on their head now gives shelter from the rain, their backs are no longer sore from sleeping on hardwood floors, and there is enough produce in their pantry to keep their stomachs full. Eren is more talkative now, too. Sometimes they indulge in pointless conversations about nothing, and she is glad for it.
It surprises her when the biggest snag of today turns out to be Eren's hair, now just hovering above his shoulders. It's the longest length she's seen on him, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't suit him.
She notices his struggle long before he even asks. As she sits on her knees and digs out the deeper weeds with a trowel, she sneaks side glances at Eren making furrows into the ground. His sweat-soaked hair sticks to his neck and drapes across his face. It forms a curtain for his eyes that he constantly swipes at, or blows away, or tucks against his ear, only to hang loose again.
Pausing her work, she watches as he pushes his hair back again and then wipes the rest of his face with the hem of his shirt.
"Hey," he calls out to her, not knowing she's already paying attention. "Later, do you think you could cut my hair?"
Mikasa remembers that's how they got here, a pair of scissors and razor on her lap and examining his brown tresses, still damp from his shower.
"It's a shame. Long hair suits you," she remarks.
He stifles a snort. "Does that mean I'll be less handsome after this?"
"What do you mean? You've always been handsome."
He shakes his head in disagreement, but she plants her hands on either side of his head, keeps him still so she can start trimming the back of his head.
They resume in silence, Mikasa set in deep concentration and Eren relaxed by her fingers working through his hair. He almost doesn't hear her when she tells him to turn so she can trim his front. It takes an awkward maneuver to twist his body until they're face to face, her knees sandwiched between his and Eren hunching forward to give her access to his long bangs.
The close proximity is difficult to ignore. The thump of her heart beats loud in her ears, and she hopes he cannot hear it. She focuses on the ends of his hair instead, choosing to keep silent for the rest of the way. Once finished, she withdraws her arms, leans back and appraises the new length; not shabby for her first time.
He runs his fingers along his hair, so much lighter than before. "All done?"
She nods, reaches for the mirror and positions it in front of him.
He examines himself from side to side, and catches her peeking behind the glass.
"Is it…okay?" she asks sheepishly, bracing herself slightly.
He offers a smile. "Yeah. I like it."
She beams and smiles her welcome, gathering her tools and dusting the remainder of hair from her lap. When one his hands reach over to cup her cheek, automatically she looks to him in question. What comes next is one of many fleeting moments and sends her heart racing faster than if she were facing a horde of titans – Eren leaning forward and meeting her lips for a chaste kiss.
The first for both of them.
She revels in his warmth until he pulls away, and quickly follows up with short peck to her forehead. The moment ends with a breathy 'thank you' and then he rises to stand, lifting his chair easily back to its place at the table.
She stares dumbly ahead. Innocent as it was, it leaves her wanting.
They don't say much in the aftermath, and Mikasa gets started on supper with a lightheaded daze. He seems to carry on unaffected, but when she catches a glimpse of his face as he sweeps the rest of the hair off the floor, he's flushed just the same.
Mikasa is frugal and strict with their spending.
Eren learns this as he watches her calculate their revenues and spending costs. The concentration on her face resembles a trance, so he refrains from disturbing her when she pulls out that notepad. So far, she's quietly handled all of their finances anyway.
It makes him feel useless during their trips to town as she peruses through the market with ease, only buying what they need and nothing more. He also finds it odd, having to grow accustomed to socializing with others again after these last few months spent in isolation. He hardly misses it, and these weekly trips never leave him craving for more company.
On their way to town, Eren made a suggestion to split their shopping list. The gathering clouds and murky overcast of the sky seemed to precede rain, so she agreed. As he finishes up, he looks down at his bag and finds himself at odds, hoping he has not forgotten anything.
Regardless, Eren finds her easily in the middle of the plaza, speaking with a stout merchant. He stops when he catches her expression – unimpressed, and irritation lingering underneath her calm posturing. The man across her gestures wildly, seems to cut her off at every turn and then brusquely waves her off out of his stall.
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and if these last few years hadn't taught him to gain any sense of self-control, this grubby man wouldn't be seeing daylight right now. Mikasa is capable of fending for herself anyway.
She walks a brisk pace and Eren maneuvers through the crowd to catch up to her. When he touches her arm to get her attention, she startles and almost drops her basket.
"Sorry," she says, eyes crinkling with apology.
"What happened back there?"
"Nothing."
He sighs, because she's doing it again – showering him with white lies and shielding him from pain. She did this plenty when they were younger: minimized her injuries, refused help, reassured him that the bone-deep cut he inflicted on her right cheek didn't hurt at all. Every time he asked, she was always just fine.
"What did he say to you?" he asks again.
She shrugs, arms falling to her side. "He just refused to sell me bread. That's all."
His brows furrow, mostly from confusion. "Why?"
"Umm, I think it had something to do with me…" she wonders out loud, gaze flitting off to one side. "I seem like an outsider to most of these people. No here vaguely even looks like me, and I guess he doesn't do business with people like that."
Eren feels his temper flaring. Self-control pushed aside, caution thrown into the wind, he swears he would have turned around if not for her arm on his shoulder, edging him in the other direction.
"It's fine. It doesn't bother me much," she says, too calm in light of his growing rage.
"It bothers me," he retorts quietly, and then suddenly recalls all the trips she'd taken alone. "Has this happened before?"
She shakes her head. "No, this is the first time."
Eren is still so distracted, eyes scanning and peering back towards that stall. She stops him, hand going to his cheek and forcing him to face her. When she caresses the skin underneath her palm, he starts to soften.
"My mother used to bake bread when I was little, and I might still remember the recipe. I'm going to try it when we get home, if you don't mind," she pipes up. The change in subject is so unexpected, and her eyes so optimistic it leaves him with no choice but to acquiesce.
He grumbles and breathes out the rest of his frustration. She's surprised when he takes her hand in his, intertwines their fingers, and squeezes them in reassurance.
"If he says it again, you can always show him what an Ackerman looks like," he suggests, very tongue-in-cheek. She nudges his stomach with their hands, and he laughs it off, amused by Mikasa pouting, of all things.
The moment passes as she checks their grocery bags – always so meticulous – and when they set off on the path that takes them home, Eren doesn't hesitate to take her hand again.
He dreams almost every night.
Bodies piled like logs for a fire. Innocent lives trampled and tossed with a single step. The stark, and hollow loneliness that finds him when he loses himself. His humanity all but intact, and fate sealed. He is a slave in this pursuit for freedom, and the strange irony of it all does not escape him.
And then, he hears a voice.
Calm, and gentle. Like the warm caress of a mother's touch, or standing steady in the shallows of ocean waves. It pulls him, and wards off the graphic and frightening visions.
Try as he might, but the walls he'd built to keep her away were never going to be enough.
Eren wakes from his nightmare, a low guttural sound cutting out of him as he lunges forward. His eyes flash open, bleary and wet with hot tears. His body is shaking and drenched with sweat.
He registers someone hushing him – Mikasa – and finds her face just inches away, both of her hands cupping his cheeks. Against the moonlight, he sees sorrow etched on her face, and worry lining her delicate features. Idly, he wonders how many nights she must have woken up from his screaming, only to whisper quiet assurances to soothe his troubled mind in return.
"You were crying out again," she says gently, one of her thumbs swiping across his damp cheek.
He sighs his response, eyes closing and head dropping to the top of her shoulder. She shifts on the bed so she can wrap her arms around him too, hands rubbing his back gently to ease his ragged breathing. He relishes in her warmth, nuzzles against the skin of her neck and inhales her comforting scent. She squeaks when he plants a kiss on the sensitive skin there, and then he draws back to press their foreheads together. He thinks she looks beautiful in the moonlight.
"I'm sorry," he sighs.
Their breaths mingle, and he feels her shaking her head at his apology.
"It's not your fault."
Eren swallows a lump in his throat, and wishes he won't have to part with this. She's already slipping from his touch, her arms falling in between them and gaze flitting once towards her own room. She leans back, and he reaches for her hand just to keep contact.
"Could you…stay? Please," he asks, almost pleading.
Her eyes soften, and a nervous energy settles around her. He finds himself wondering and hoping this is a vulnerability she reserves only for him.
Mikasa gives a small nod and moves to the edge of the bed. He lifts the covers for her, and allows her to settle next to him. She wishes to turn around, just in case she has to soothe more night terrors away, but the space between them is quickly filled – he fastens her against him with need, arms wrapped around her middle and nose in her hair.
When he falls asleep, he hopes he dreams of her.
It becomes inevitable.
The following nights, Eren craves the same closeness. He knows he should swallow his pride and admit it. Instead, he gazes at her when she's not looking as evening comes. He pauses at her door when they go to their separate rooms.
He gathers courage one night, and knocks on her door. Words get caught in his throat when he finds her perched on the bed, reading a book against the candlelight. She tilts her head with curiosity splashed on her face, even though it's obvious why he's come. Against her silent inquiry, he just rubs the back of his head and offers a sheepish look.
She doesn't tease him for it. Instead, she puts away her reading.
He moves forward and slips under her sheets with the same nervous energy. When she blows out the candlelight, he whispers his thanks. In return, she curls up against him with her head tucked under his chin. Stroking her hair, he waits until she's drifted off to sleep, and then he keeps awake, admitting to himself that he loves her under the gleam of this moonlight.
Memories of the alternative reality are revealed to her in small pieces.
She gathers most of it during late nights when he talks about the things that scare him most. Few memories are revealed unintentionally, like Eren apologizing for lying when he told her he hated her, even though he said no such thing. She hopes all of this will make sense one day, and that she'll understand their purpose.
In between, she is happy to learn other things about him.
His body heats up like a furnace, and even on chilly nights he doesn't mind sleeping with the windows open. The longest he'll grow his hair is above his shoulders, which is the next time he asks her to cut it again. When he examines her delicate hair between his fingers, he remarks how long her hair has grown.
When they spar, he manages to take her down more times than she's used to and it drives her mad and reckless when she's the one pinned beneath him. The tally count always remains in her favour, and he manages to assuage her squirming and discomfort with a kiss to her forehead, her nose or her lips. It's a strange reward for losing.
He does it enough times that when they return to the cabin, she asks him about it.
"Why do you always kiss me when I lose?"
He glances up at her with an honest expression. "Because you get frustrated with yourself, and it calms you down."
"What? I don't get…frustrated," she retorts, even though her tone is unsure.
He arches a brow.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
Her answer comes out so quick and easy that it gives her emotions away. She bites her tongue afterwards. In that moment, her entire body must be flushing red because the heat is overwhelming her cheeks. She raises her hands to cover her face, not brave enough to look him in the eye.
"Sorry, I'm just…embarrassed, by all of this."
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about."
She just shakes her head.
"Mikasa, can you look at me?"
She tries, lowering her hands back at her sides. It's only when he's standing in front of her does she look up at him. His smile is sweet, and not teasing or mocking at all.
"What's wrong?" he asks, needlessly tucking some of her longer bangs behind her ear.
She sighs. "I just want to be strong enough to protect you."
Realization sinks in then – the reason she's so frustrated with losing. He recognizes this old habit of hers, always dedicating her strength and training for his sake. She is not any less strong than she was before; his sore limbs and aching back can attest to that, but he can tell her as much and she might not believe it.
"I want to protect you too," he says instead, honest and simple.
Eventually when Eren moves to take her face in his hands, it is Mikasa who leans forward to kiss him first. Nothing more needs to be said.
"Do you know about constellations?"
They are settled on a grassy hill underneath the expanse of the dark and starry night. It had been Mikasa's idea to stargaze, something they used to do when they were younger. Here in the mountains in a land without walls, the sky feels bigger somehow.
Eren shakes his head, and eyes her with a curiosity. She's sitting with a blanket draped over her legs, eyes glued to the sky with wonderment.
"My father used to share all kinds of stories. Can I tell you my favourite one?"
His gaze softens with endearment. Humming an affirmative, he follows her fingers to a particular set of stars. Two twinkling lights, sitting side by side.
"The Gemini constellation tells the story of two brave warriors, named Castor and Pollux. They were twin brothers, borne from different fathers. Castor was mortal, and Pollux was the divine son of a god," she explains, remembering the story just as her father had told.
He listens silently, gaze drifting over to her to appreciate the smile accompanying the memories of her parents.
"When Castor died, his brother grieved and prayed to share his immortality. His father took pity, and his prayers were answered – the twins were turned into a constellation so they could be together forever. Their names were given to the two brightest stars of that constellation."
Eren keeps quiet, and does not interrupt. There is something uniquely enchanting about listening to someone speak with a deeply-rooted passion, simply because it is important to them. He knows Mikasa has carried this story in her heart like a secret. A memoir from her father, much like the mark on her wrist is a token of her mother.
"I like that story," he pipes up, reaching for hand. "Do you remember anymore?"
She hums and contemplates until she catches movement in the sky. A shooting star, if she ever saw one, traveling across the horizon, a tail of light in its wake. A gasp escapes her lips and she watches stunned, nudging Eren before it leaves completely.
"Ah! Did you see that?"
Eren nods once. With her excitement so palpable, he knows he is seeing a different side of her. It is a welcome change, since he is so familiar with her worry and grief, every action she makes so careful and guarded.
"Should we make a wish? It's customary."
He stares thoughtfully. "Are you sure?"
She shrugs. "Why not?"
The expression on his face strains and hardens for a brief moment – she doesn't miss it – and the reason is simple. He does not know how to tell her with gentleness that his most desired wish will not come true. Not even the stars can help him. He is a cursed man, and it matters not how many realities he lives and sifts through.
Their exchange is wordless, but it is enough.
Mikasa stares in silence as understanding dawns on her. She knows this is the first of many breaks, and the sudden realization of their short time together takes the breath out of her in the worst way possible. Her shoulders start to tremble, and her face falls.
Eren grips her hand tighter, regrets the sorrow in her face and beckons her to look at him.
"Hey," he says, smiling. "I think I came up with something."
She nods, and even though a part of her doesn't want to play the game anymore, she prods for him to continue.
He takes a deep breath before turning to the sky. "If there is ever a war or conflict happening in this world, my wish is that it never reaches us and takes away our peace and home."
Eren turns to her then, "Is that a good wish?"
She smiles and nods eagerly.
"It's your turn."
Mikasa obliges and settles closer to him, both for warmth and comfort. "Okay. My wish is for Armin to be safe, and…that he forgives us."
Silence lingers again.
She has thought of him many times, uncertain if he remained in Marley or returned to Paradis. The only thing she is certain of is that he is thinking of ways to fix this fractured peace. Armin's always been like that: a fine balance between relying on his mind, and following his heart. Regardless of his reaction to their disappearance, she misses him all the same.
"Eren, do you think he's okay?"
Somewhere in between, his eyes have turned wistful and glassy. He lets out a sigh.
"Armin is the smartest person I know. He's probably doing better than any of us."
She hums in agreement, and for the rest of the quiet night, she allows herself to dwell in this moment of peace.
Mikasa doesn't know what overcomes her when they come home to the cabin that night.
He returns to their bedroom clean and refreshed, brushing the longer strands of hair out of his face. She folds her scarf neatly and places it on the table, heart beating fast and ringing loud in her ears. When Eren moves to kiss her goodnight, she plants a hand on his chest and reaches up to meet him. Afterwards, she expects him to retire to bed and sense nothing abnormal.
But he stays, green eyes studying hers in the dim moonlight.
"Something on your mind?" His voice is low, just above a whisper.
Her hands gather at her middle, fingers wringing with hesitation. She starts to wonder just when he started reading her with ease.
"Can I try something with you?" she asks quietly, her voice small as she looks on with uncertainty.
His eyes widen for a moment, breath catching in his throat.
"Sure. I'm all yours."
She smiles, innocent and trusting, before her hands go to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as she meets his lips for another kiss. He returns it sweetly, hand slipping into her hair and the other pressed against her back just as they've done before.
Suddenly, she pulls away. He gazes with mild confusion as she purses her lips in reconsideration, because this is not what she has in mind. It's too chaste, and always has been.
"Mikasa–"
She kisses him again, her second attempt more hungry and messy, and she turns their heads, not caring if their noses bump or their breaths flutter. Her cold hands slip underneath his shirt and roam against the warmth of his skin. He shivers at the contact, gasps and she takes the chance to taste him, from the roof and corners of his mouth to his tongue.
Her nails scrape down the muscles of his abdomen and Eren parts from her to plant wet marks along her jawline down to the pale skin of her neck. Sweeping her hair behind her, he suckles at the sensitive skin behind her ear and above her collarbone, delightfully surprised when it sends her into a frenzy. A breathy gasp escapes her lips, and she cranes her neck to give him more access.
"Ah, Eren, can we–"
She forgoes asking and decides to do it instead. Feeling her knees go weak, she gently pushes him backwards until they're tumbling onto the bed. She quickly straddles his waist, and takes in the perfect view of him. Swollen lips, flushed skin and pliant underneath her. Sheepishly, she wipes the saliva off his chin.
For a brief moment, Mikasa registers this new and uncharted territory. With no prior experience, it will take several more tries before the awkward energy wears off.
He raises himself on his arms, acutely aware that her nightgown now sits at her hips.
"Mikasa, are you sure?" he inquires, emerald eyes staring deep into her grey hues.
She nods her head, leans towards his ear and breathes, "I want you." It casts shivers down his spine, and when Mikasa's hands fumble with the hem of his shirt, he tugs it over his head himself and discards it off to one side.
Their kisses grow more fervent, bodies pressed and moving together like magnets. Her hands roam everywhere across his bare skin and Eren's hands move down from her back to her thighs. Eventually, her hands find the dip between his shoulder blades and she carves her pleasure near the nape of his neck.
Eren recoils from her touch and winces. Withdrawing from him, she looks on with concern and whispers her apologies.
Hesitantly, he feels the area for himself, surprised to find such tender skin. So much time has passed since he last used his titan, but a phantom pain still lingers there. He suspects it will take time to lower his guard around it.
"I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"
He shakes his head. "No, but it's… sensitive."
She whispers another apology, expression guilty and crestfallen. He coaxes her with soft kisses on her nose, temple and cheeks and eases her in picking up where they left off. He swallows hard when she's touching him again, hand moving below his navel, following the bony outline of his pelvis and settling on the fabric of his pants.
He resists the urge to thrust then, wanter her to explore at her own pace. A low groan slips from his mouth when her hand slips underneath and grasps his member. He holds his breath for a moment, wondering if he can ever be satisfied with his own touch after this, especially as he hisses in pleasure, and grasps at straws for self-control when she strokes him so tenderly.
Mikasa tries to gage his reaction, not knowing what to make of it.
She stops suddenly.
When he looks to her in question, her eyes drop down to her hands.
"I've never done this before with anyone, so…" She blushes furiously as she contemplates her next words. "…I don't how to make you feel good."
He wonders if she mistook his expressions for pain, and rubs her shoulders to reassure her otherwise. She cares so much for his pleasure that he's left wondering how he's ever been blessed with Mikasa loving him back.
"I've never done it either," he says, clearing the air.
She smiles, so beautiful and lovely, and he cannot help it. He pulls her for another searing kiss before gripping her backside and flipping them over. He's dreamt of this before: Mikasa lying underneath him, skin flushed and hair tussled across the pillows. He resumes at her neck where she is so receptive to his touch, earning him desperate mewls and sweet noises.
He lifts her nightgown, hands splaying across her abs before moving up to palm her breasts and nipples. Mikasa, growing with anticipation and need, moves his hand between her legs. The sensory overload drives her mad – Eren is everywhere except where she wants him.
"Please take this off," she breathes, overcome with a sense of need.
He chuckles at her demand and kisses her nose, always so polite and courteous. He obliges, and pulls off her cotton underwear. At same time, she tugs off the rest of her nightgown and tosses it to the floor. Impatient, she reaches up to kiss him hard, dismissing any concern he might have about moving forward. She breaks off with a shuddering sigh when he teases her entrance.
Her legs spread apart, and he slips a finger inside. As she adjusts, he relishes the feeling of her warmth. When her hand squeezes his shoulder, she is wet enough that he can add a second finger with ease. Testing her, he thumbs her sensitive bud and spreads his fingers. When he curves his digits and begins to pump, her body writhes and she whimpers sweetly for him. In between breathless gasps, she begs him not to stop, and he does not refuse to be a quick study, he learns how to make her unravel and call out his name.
Reaching her high, she becomes a shuddering mess before him.
He gives her time to recover, but it's not long before she reaches for his member again.
Supporting himself with one arm, he grabs her nearest hand and squeezes it in reassurance.
"Tell me if you want to stop," he murmurs into her ear, as he pushes in slowly.
Halfway through, Mikasa draws in a breath for a sharp hiss. Her grip on his hand tightens, nails digging into the skin of his hand it almost hurts. Upon seeing the tears in her eyes, he stops at once.
"Mikasa, should I–"
"No, I can take it. Please keep going."
He looks on with hesitation, and slides all the way in. He stills himself and for a moment, she is clinging to him, bracing and trembling as she adapts to the sensation of being so stretched, so open and so full of him. In between, he peppers small kisses everywhere he can reach and sweeps away the hair sticking to her face.
Mikasa grits her teeth and adjusts, prompting him to move as she tightens her grip on his hand and whispers quiet assurances. His thrusts are gentle and steady, and their bodies move together like ocean waves – ascending and receding in a slow tempo. Her lips part open as she starts to glean pleasure one thrust after another, her back arching off the bed to meet him and urging him to go deeper.
A pleasant moan resonates through her, and she loses herself in their rhythm. As the pain subsides, Mikasa feels herself spiralling higher into new heights of bliss and desire. Her hands clutch tighter to his backside, her head falls backwards and she screws her eyes shut to focus on the growing intensity of this fevered and dream-like heat.
Eren knows he will not last, and she cries out when he strokes her centre to help her along.
He revels in her soft moans, increasing his pace as her face becomes helpless and desperate, until his name leaves her lips in broken syllables. He feels it just the same, the squeeze and clench of her walls around his throbbing member sending him into a dizzying haze.
When Mikasa falls, she finds purchase between his broad shoulders and the sweat-soaked sheets.
He knows he's close too.
Fuck.
Pulling out, he finishes onto the skin of her belly. Desperate to keep their closeness, he leans down to capture her lips. She returns it in kind, softly stroking his hair and smiling against him. And then he collapses onto her chest, catching his breath and listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
For a while, they linger in silence and exchange shy smiles.
He doesn't think he needs anything more.
At the end of the night, when she is tucked safely and sleeping in the comfort of his arms, Eren is altogether certain that if there was any trace of goodness left in him, any part of him worth saving, it would only be her.