Chapter Text
Sweat glistened on his forehead as the murky, humid weather beat his tanned skin. Gently, his head reclined on the hard edge, indolently watching clouds sluggishly moving in the vast sky. Eren’s eyes furrowed when the notable sensation slithered, leading the surrounding nothing but silence.
Exhaling audibly, he shut his eyes off; thoughts once again gravitated to the path he was well acquainted with. A habit he could hardly get rid of.
He anticipated it.
It had become his own brand of vice. Like the nicotine to cigarettes, this wouldn’t vanish no matter how he deeply desired it. Once the idea was introduced to him, there was turning back, and he, of all people, didn’t want to return to those mundane thoughts. It was ruining him, but the raw sensation every time it occurred had been gratifying, keeping him on the edge, and satiating something he sought. He was totally wrecked, and it was tearing him apart, but he badly needed every dose of it—of her.
It was simply addicting, numbing all the pain lodged in his heart.
As the wind breezed, he relished the sensation that was consuming him.
“Eren.” Her voice was almost like the wind passing on his face.
Her dainty fingers traced his brow, glided to his cheeks, and dipped it finally. It exonerated all impossible thoughts he concocted.
“Eren,” whispered she again with that tone, coaxing him—seducing him.
Defiance was embedded in his soul, so he remained unfazed, ignoring her like she didn’t exist at all. But where her touches laid, simultaneously feeding the fire beneath his skin. Innocent touches here and there, her own way to evoke him.
By now her lingering touches were wandering from his face, passing to his shoulder, lovingly drawing some pattern on his neck.
“Eren,” she said by this time with tinge irritation as she still hadn’t yet captured his attention.
Then, as ever, surprise caught him when her hot breath swarmed right on his nape, making tendrils of hair at the back of his neck raised, electrifying him.
“Eren.” His name enunciated too slow, almost taunting him, and only added to the spark he badly wished to wash away.
And like any other man, he had his own limitations. There were a few things he could tolerate. In the end, he truly believed he was a flawed man and caved into her.
“Mikasa, stop it," he said with a flat tone, too cold, and heavy with indifference. He should get used to it as later on, he would carry it with dignity.
His emerald eyes opened, and a mane of short black hair tumbled his sight, comfortably leaning on his shoulder. In excellent time, the wind breezed, bringing the unadulterated scent of lavender to his nose; he inhaled in exhilaration, savoring the distinct aroma that had been made only for her.
“I can’t help it, you keep ignoring me,” she mumbled, still fingers gliding back and forth on his torso, bringing at least a little comfort.
Silence covered the air.
Steadily gazing across him, there were flowers and lush grasses, resembling the clear cool summer.
He was back again at his home. It was the same as he’d remember in his memories and his dreams— peaceful and simple.
A swift rustling of clothes, and her warmth was gone.
“Get up now. There’s a load of work waiting for us." She stood, patting her skirt haphazardly.
“You aren’t a kid anymore--"
“I know,” he cut off.
Of course, he knew, he wasn’t a simpering child that had once believed in fairytales. He was an adult who knew the bleakest reality. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
“Then you should have thought about sleeping here, ” she snapped back.
Mikasa sighed, slanted her eyes away from him. Slowly, she took a step away from him.
She was walking away again, leaving him.
Before she could take another stride, Eren reached to her left arm, clenching it viciously, and Mikasa’s eyes evidently emanated confusion as she cast her eyes at him.
Without preamble, he pulled her back, bringing her down, resulting in her back slumped onto the willow of grasses, while settling himself on top of her, his knee parting her legs.
It was a very inappropriate position, but he couldn't care less about people’s opinions.
“Eren?” she asked in bewilderment.
His hand clamped her wrists above her as he pinned her down, while his free hand gripped her waist, making no room for her to dislodge.
Gently, his head laid on her chest, hearing her heart pounding and feeling her warmth. “Tell me, Mikasa,” he said laboriously.
“Tell you about what?” she murmured back, feeling her body vibration. By then, he let her wrist off and positioned his hands on her hips.
Moving his gaze up, Eren thinned his lips, and his eyes collided with hers, “If I hurt you, will you forgive me?”
She bit her lips. “Depending on what gravity.”
He grinned at that. On what gravity? Because it was surely unforgivable.
The wind passed by, and no words left his lips. He chose to remain silent.
“Supposing you would, I know there has to be a reason. It’s not like you,” she started.
“Yeah, I guess so. But what if I hurt you enough to hate me?”
“I doubt I can hate you,” was her soft tone as she whispered those words.
Eren’s heart clenched, averted his eyes from her, and gulped a huge air to get a will to vent the words out from his chest.
“So will you be able to forgive me?” he said finally.
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.
“Why? Was it because I saved you when we were young?” He murmured, asking her the question again.
Mikasa was merely silent.
“I don’t deserve your blind faith,” he whispered and dared to look into her eyes.
“Eren, my answer has nothing to do with having blind faith, but it is the answer you wanted to hear from me. You want me to say yes because you’re hoping that despite everything will happen, my forgiveness still matters to you."
Perhaps she was right.
Perhaps he needed her words.
Perhaps.
In an accident, his fingers that resided on her hips slipped inside her shirt, and she hitched in response.
“Get off-"
All of it was unheard as he slithered, his fingers going to the center of her chest, and her ragged breath was unceasing, mimicking the pounding of her chest.
His eyes traveled from her torso, going to her eyes, and for the first time, he was seeing her.
He shouldn’t have done that, he thought. But Eren thrived to have those eyes- containing with silver flecks as reflected by the light- to stare at him; he wanted the burn, the heat she emitted when those grey eyes pierced at him. It was like a hearth in the middle of a blizzard, and the more chill seeped through his soul, the greater he longed for that heat.
As opposed to anyone’s belief.
It was a countless time he heard them calling her cold-blooded and heartless.
In his mind, she was anything except those words—an ice queen; but rather a woman— slicked in scorching heat while entangled with his body-- bending to his will, panting with the need of release, and arching when his fingers laid on the places he deeply desired to touch the most.
In his mind, right?
Leaning down, his lips pressed to hers, and she squealed in surprise, her legs jerking. She whimpered on his lips as his other hand from her chest went to her thigh, pulling it up to wrap it on his waist.
Forcing to pull back, she gasped. “Eren, what are you doing!?”
He was still caging her, though Eren’s eyes exuded nothing but desperation, and Mikasa’s ragged breath heightened everything. In broad daylight, she was unraveling, and any man who would witness such an image would hum in agreement that she was beautiful and could take anyone’s breath away.
“Stop this, Eren,” she murmured.
“No,” he spoke with imminent vehemence.
And Mikasa ceased her movements.
“Just this once, Mikasa. Let me have this.” He begged, and he could see the shock in her eyes as it widened.
Because she knew him very well.
Green eyes met her stormy grey eyes.
It wasn’t his style to plead, but he wanted this, or else he would burst—and worst go mad at this pent up frustration.
Just at least once again, let him feel this way before everything went down and unsalvageable.
He let go of her wrists when shame flooded him. She wasn’t responding. Of course, she wouldn’t as she had never seen him the way he saw her.
Family?
That’s what she had said.
And that’s a colossal error that he always forgot to correct. She was never a family to him, because he yearned more than what she could give, and he wanted to consume her.
He was sick.
But only for her.
Only for Mikasa.
Hoisting her up her body to sit, he settled himself on her neck, crushing her frame to his as he hugged her, hands squeezed her hips as if letting her go wasn’t an option. “Please, just once,” he boldly implored to her, lips grazing her neck.
A hitch from her lips, and beneath his palms, lodged on her exposed flesh, she was sultry hot, merely adding fuel to the fire of his desire.
Her calloused palm, the sole evidence of persistence through the years of being a soldier, clutched his, and made a distance to see him, “I don’t know what has gotten to you, but...if it will make you better."
Her eyes averted, and she colored up as she muttered, “then do it, as long it won’t change something between us,” gripping his hand viciously.
“It won’t,” he replied softly.
“Really?”
“Yes,” he whispered back.
Eren cupped her face, smoldering grey eyes glimmered all the words he needed. Gingerly, moving closer, her lips parted, and he was synthesized of how he could feel her. Without ado, his lips met hers, touched by softness and voyaged by gentleness, very unlikely for the first time. It was gliding back and forth as the taste wasn’t just enough. Her soft lips, her gasps, her skin weren’t enough to satiate him.
It was a tidal wave of craving and some added emotions that he thought he had buried. It was chaos, leaving him in the abyss of endless wanting her.
“Eren--" was her broken pant as he left her lips to prey on her neck and sucked loudly between her nape. It was utterly alluring how he was aware of shivers running to her skin.
His hand traveled from her hips, going to her thighs, groping it rough. In the haste of lust, he slammed her back to the ground, wrapping her legs to his waist. His strained length pressed against her sweltering center, and it burned despite barriers of clothes.
As he cast his sight down, Mikasa was an enthralling sight, and he had never seen her in a sensuous state. Her grey eyes steamed by fervor, skin as red as sunset, lips asking to be sucked again, and her heavy breathing illicit him to do more.
With one movement from his hips, a loud moan broke out. Her thighs severely enveloped him, clenched, and her hand clamped fiercely on the tiny grasses that cushioned her back.
Biting his lips hard, he kept his motion with precision, grinding it relentlessly as it generated a tantamount of pleasure for both of them.
And he needed to be inside of her--
Her teeth were raving her lower lip, and eyes hooded on the verge shutting them close.
“D.. don’t,” he rasped, “don’t close your eyes.”
In excessive lust clouding them, he wanted to witness himself on those eyes, only to learn he inflicted this on her. A very primitive notion, but he didn’t care.
She groaned only in response.
He held her hand as he could feel her trembling.
“Eren,” as she drew her breath sharply in question.
But he had never once ceased...
He had to rip her dress. And with every heave she took, it became shallow.
It was coming—the ending was near.
Before he could bid his one last farewell, the dissonance was once back again, muting Mikasa’s existence.
Everything halted.
The sensation was gone.
The meadow vanished. It was nothing but darkness, and Mikasa’s soft mellow pant, changed by the stranger’s noises.
Like the cold water in the shower, he was wide awake, dissipating any remnants of his tiny greed.
He was back in Marley, to the facility where his plans would set in motion.
“Mr.Krueger!" Falco’s voice echoed, a smile on his face etched.
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