Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1369132.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Jean_Kirstein/Eren_Yeager
  Character:
      Jean_Kirstein, Eren_Yeager
  Additional Tags:
      Future_Jean/Future_Eren/Jean, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Time_Travel, Plot_What
      Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Series:
      Part 3 of cest_la_vie
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-26 Words: 2685
****** Again, Later ******
by tanyart
Summary
     Jean finds his future self and future Eren in the supply closet.
     (Unofficial pwp sequel to Now or Never.)
Notes
     The shameless down and dirty version because I have no dignity left
     to spare.
Jean still has the gross taste of coffee in his mouth when he runs into
Kirschtein and older Eren sneaking around the barracks again.  And by sneaking,
he means hiding in one of the supply rooms doing nothing even remotely
exciting.  They aren’t even arguing or kissing, which Jean has been thinking a
lot about lately, no thanks to Kirschtein anddefinitely no thanks to the Eren.
 Both present and future Erens, in fact.
“Weren't you two going to leave?” Jean asks, broom in hand; he had offered to
put it away after present-day Eren had swept the courtyard and had gotten a
confused thanks out of it, so there is that.
“We are,” Kirschtein says mulishly.  The space is his sitting in is cramped
enough without having not-present-day-and-unfairly-attractive Eren squeezed
next to him.
Jean stamps down his jealousy.  This could be him someday.  Alone in a tiny
supply room with Eren, and apparently inept in all things space and time
related.  He wishes he is being sarcastic about it, but he really can’t wait.
“We just need to lie low for the night,” Eren explains and looks so put off by
it Jean gets the stupid childish urge to impress this nineteen year-old Eren
and help out.
So he does.  He gathers his nerve to hold out his hand to help Eren up, even if
he knows full well Eren can stand on his own, but Eren is a fucking enabler
anyway and only takes his hand without hesitation while Kirschtein looks
faintly embarrassed by the whole thing.
Jean scowls, cheeks heating up.  Whatever.  Eren is still holding onto Jean’s
hand when he turns and grabs Kirschtein’s wrist to pull him up as well.  For a
moment it leaves all three of them standing together with their hands joined,
and Jean can’t believe how the two of them are so oblivious about it.  He
quickly lets go of Eren’s hand, huffing a little, and stomps off towards the
infirmary.
“Come on,” he calls over his shoulder and discreetly rubs his sweaty palms
against the inside of his cuffs.
===============================================================================
The infirmary has a few private rooms hardly anyone uses.  Jean thinks they
might be for isolation purposes, or whenever Squad Leader Hanji needs the extra
space for research… things.  He wonders why Kirschtein or Eren don’t appear to
remember these rooms but as they step in Eren mutters something under his
breath, making Kirschtein snort and kick the door shut before he tackles Eren
onto the cot.
Eren stumbles, blindly reaching out to grab anything in reach, and yanks Jean
off his feet by the arm.  Before Jean knows it, all three of them are on the
cot and Jean has to scramble aside as Eren’s fist narrowly misses decking him
in the eye.
“This room again,” Eren gasps, grappling with Kirschtein.  He rolls on his
back, planting one boot on Kirschtein’s chest, but he is more or less pinned
down and doesn’t look like he minds at all.  “S’lot cleaner than I remember it
being.”
Kirschtein raises an eyebrow, pushing down as Eren’s supporting leg bends under
his weight.  He considers Eren for what is longer than necessary.  “…Really
now.”
Meanwhile Jean huddles in the corner of the bed with his back against the
headboard for what feels like an awkward long time.
“Aren’t the both of you too old to pick fights with each other?” he says in a
desperate attempt to make them stop flirting or fighting—he’s not sure what is
happening.
He draws his legs up as the back of Eren’s head presses over his shins,
disheveled dark hair nearly coming undone from its tie, and Jean spends another
long awkward moment meeting Eren’s bright-eyed stare and crooked smile.
“Never,” says Eren, looking at Jean from his upside-down point of view.  He
kicks Kirschtein off with little mercy and sits up to face Jean, leaning close
and grinning in unrepentant victory.  “Can’t you see you still lose at hand-to-
hand?  Even when it’s two against one.”
He laughs, a muted sound as he regains his breath, and eases away from Jean.
 His face is flushed, clothes all rumpled and hair a complete mess.  Jean’s
mouth goes dry and a little thrill travels up his spine.
“Who’s losing?” Kirschtein demands, climbing back onto the cot.  He wraps his
arms around Eren from behind, trapping him in a hold Jean knows for sure
wouldn’t stand a chance in any real fight. Kirschtein’s eyes shift to Jean,
holding his gaze as he lowers his head and puts his mouth to the curve of
Eren’s neck.  “Us?” he says.
Eren tilts his head as if he’s daring Kirschtein to do his worst, and smirks at
Jean like he’s challenging him to do his best.  “Sure looks like it.”   
Jean sits up and scowls.  Taunting—he knows that.  It’s familiar and
comforting, not something so wildly out of his depth.  He lunges forward,
grabbing Eren by the front of his shirt.
“I’ll show you losing,” he snaps, which doesn’t make any sense at all, but he
is past caring if Eren smiles right into his kiss and if Kirschtein makes a
muffled groan of embarrassment against Eren’s shoulder. It feels good, being
able to finally move out of sheer frustration.  He is so fucking done with
being paralyzed and flustered by two adults who aren’t even the least bit cool
or charming—he can’t believe neither of them have manage to mature one bit over
four years.
Eren’s mouth is warm and open, letting Jean’s tongue slide in between his lips.
 It’s sloppy and wet, licking around Eren’s tongue, and Jean can’t help but
feel clumsy as a trail of saliva escapes from the corner of his mouth, but
Eren’s hands go up to his face, gently steadying him from angling his head too
much, and he doesn’t stop kissing Jean until they pause for breath.
And, amazingly, after they do, Eren leans in for more, no less eager to do it
again.
Jean starts to think he is finally getting the hang of kissing when Eren
suddenly jerks and moans into his mouth.  The sound startles Jean and sends a
jolt running down to the pit of his stomach.  He opens his eyes and sees
Kirschtein worming his hands into Eren’s pants and that too makes Jean blood
run hot.
“C’mon,” Kirschtein murmurs to Jean, nosing Eren’s shirt collar.  His hands
move beneath the fabric of Eren’s pants, and Eren’s eyes flutter shut.
The sight makes Jean’s pulse pound between his ears, watching Eren arch into
Kirschtein and feeling one of Eren’s hands leave his face to grip Kirschtein
from behind his shoulder.  He doesn’t know how Eren’s learned to move his body
in lazy, languid turns, rolling his hips up every time Kirschtein grips him.
“Fuck,” Jean breathes, already dizzy with the thought, and he reaches out to
pull at the buttons of Eren’s shirt, revealing collarbones already lined with
red marks.
There is a guide after all, he thinks, and lowers his head to make a few marks
of his own.  Eren makes an appreciative noise, somewhere between an encouraging
yes and a breathless sigh before Kirschtein hungrily demands a kiss for himself
from over Eren’s shoulder.
A little later, when Eren is moaning and pulling Jean closer, Jean lets out a
little whimper, hand going to the front of his pants.  He is hard, and thinks
he has been hard ever since Eren had first smirked at him with Kirschtein at
his neck.  Jean bites his lip, and tries not to grip himself too hard through
his pants while he tries to giving Eren a kiss that doesn’t quite make it
before he shudders and hides his face beneath Eren’s jaw.
“Ah, did you come?” Eren asks, blunt enough that Jean literally blushes his way
out of making a wreck of himself and a mess in his pants.
“No,” he says, stuttering, and he hates himself for somehow being in Eren’s lap
and rutting against him, unable to stop due to Eren’s arm wrapping around his
waist to encourage it.
Eren snorts, pressing his mouth to the side of his face, and Jean feels the
damp strands of Eren’s hair and the thin layer of sweat on his cheek.
“Why didn’t you say anything?  Sorry, sorry, I forgot,” Eren says, pushing Jean
unceremoniously onto his back.
“Forgot what?” The back of Jean’s head bumps against the headboard and he
attempts to look angry, but it doesn’t help him at all when Eren nudges
Kirschtein back some more and hunkers down between Jean’s drawn up knees.
“Your stamina,” Eren says dismissively, and can’t be bothered to answer Jean’s
offended protests.  "Doesn’t matter.  You get better at it," he adds, and bends
down to unzip Jean's pants with his teeth.
Jean’s complaints fuck off in a hurry, leaving him breathless as Eren mouths
through the rough fabric.  He sees Kirschtein get up from the cot, tossing his
shirt aside, and Jean is assured that while he may not have gained a whole lot
of muscle over the years, he’s gotten more… solid. Steady.  Less of an awkward
beanpole, Jean wants to think, but there are also a few new marks across
Kirschtein’s back, and knot of scarring that doesn’t seem like any kind of
injury from the 3dmg or a titan.  It takes Jean a moment to realize it’s an old
bullet wound, and he stares, confused until Eren urges him to lift his hips to
tug his pants down.
“Don’t mind that,” Eren says, and if Jean misses how casual the command falls
from Eren’s mouth, it’s only because Eren’s already put his lips over the tip
of Jean’s erection.
Jean whimpers, hands clawing at the sheets.  He distantly hears the bed creak
as Kirschtein returns, the clink of belts being undone and the metal scrape of
a jar opening.  Eren’s hand nudges Jean’s legs further apart and Jean nearly
sits up when he finally puts two and two together.
“N-no, I don’t want-“ he blurts out, blushing furiously, and looks from Eren to
Kirschtein, uneasy as Eren’s hand stays on his thigh.
“No, not you,” Kirschtein says from behind Eren.  He has a small jar in one
hand while the other curves over the slope of Eren’s ass, shiny and slick with
oil.  “I didn’t think you’d want to, anyway.”
Eren colors a brilliant shade of pink at his ears, but he clears his throat.
 “If you don’t mind.”
“Oh,” says Jean.  He flops back down, heart racing even faster, but for a
different reason.  He fights the urge to palm his hard cock again, but he makes
the colossal effort to shuck off his boots with the rest of his pants with
Kirschtein’s help.  “Oh. That’s fine,” he repeats and gets up on his elbows to
watch.
Eren sighs, though that might have been due to Kirschtein pressing his fingers
into him.  Jean can’t see exactly what is happening, but it’s not hard to guess
when Eren’s breath hitches against Jean’s cock and he rolls his hips back into
Kirschtein’s hand.  And, when Jean has half a mind to just moan and jerk
himself off, Eren lifts his head and takes Jean into his mouth, throat rumbling
as he makes pleased noises over Jean’s cock.
Jean almost falls back, hand flying to his mouth as he whimpers.  Eren’s mouth
is wet and warm, tongue working in careless circles that has Jean panting and
writhing in moments.  It’s so good, and Eren looks like a mess, sucking him off
as he fucks himself on Kirschtein’s fingers.  Jean can tell when Kirschtein
changes how he moves his fingers, just from the way Eren’s eyes darken or glaze
over and how his moans grow louder and vibrate all around Jean’s dick.  
“… so good, how did you get so good,” Jean babbles, senseless and overwhelmed.
 He shuts his eyes, words turning into shaky, incoherent pants.  It’s too much,
hearing what Kirschtein does to Eren while he feels every single one of Eren’s
shameless, gasping reactions.
He jerks his hips forward, just as Eren pries Jean’s clenched fist from the
sheets and moves to the back of his head.  Jean runs his hand through the dark
tangles of Eren’s hair, and it’s perfect, so embarrassingly perfect and hot and
everything Jean thinks he wants.  
Jean comes into Eren’s mouth, voice stuttering and breaking, and he continues
to whimper as Eren moans and drags his tongue against the flat of his stomach,
trailing drool and come along Jean's skin.
“Jean,” Eren warns, low and gravelly.
Jean lifts his head weakly, mind still in shambles, and belatedly realizes Eren
had been talking to Kirschtein.  He had missed a lot, apparently, because
Kirschtein is flushed and looking halfway as desperate and wanting as Jean had
felt a minute before.
Kirschtein slides behind Eren, and Jean catches a glimpse of his wet and
dripping cock before Eren shifts and hangs his head above Jean’s chest,
breathing deeply.
Jean wonders how many times they’ve done this, enough times to be so
comfortable and yet still get a kind of shaky excitement falling into each
other.  It’s a simple fuck, with Eren on his hands and knees, but it looks
better than all of Jean’s elaborate fantasies.  Eren starts to rock back and
forth in tiny motions like he wants to push Kirschtein’s cock deeper in him,
and Jean wishes he could get hard again just so that he could lay there and
jerk off to the sounds of Eren moaning and wanting more.
“And how… ah, are you holding up?” Eren asks, looking down at Jean.  At a
thrust from Kirschtein, he rolls his hips, erection dragging wetly over Jean’s
thigh.  He shudders, briefly closing his eyes as Kirschtein bites his shoulder.
“I… I,” Jean croaks, heat rushing to his face.  He draws his shoulders up and
put a hand over his face.  He wants it so bad, and it seems like a stupid,
silly thing when he’s done and exhausted and near useless. “Um, I want…”
“He wants you to kiss him,” Kirschtein finishes, panting over Eren.  He presses
his face to the back of Eren’s neck, letting out a whine as he makes a visible
effort to keep still.
Eren’s eyes open.  “Yeah?” he says, dazed but smiling.
Jean nods, wanting to burn that image of Eren looking happily wrecked above
him, but Eren is already kneeling down to kiss him, filthy and messy with none
of the patience he had shown Jean before.  Jean moans despite himself, pressing
his knees at Eren’s sides to hold him there as Kirschtein fucks him and babbles
meaningless words into Eren’s ear.
Jean moves his mouth along Eren’s jaw, eyes open to see Eren’s face, but as
soon as Eren gasps for breath, he presses his face into the curve of Jean’s
neck, moaning a tiny repetition of ah, ah, ah into Jean’s skin.   
“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Kirschtein whimpers, and he shudders over Eren, hips
twitching erratically.  He murmurs something, lost to Jean’s ears, but Eren
seems to hear it.
Eren’s hands scrabble over the sheets, and Jean reaches up, wanting to run his
fingers through his hair again, but Eren takes his hand, fingers lacing tightly
with Jean’s.
“Jean,” Eren gasps, face still buried against his neck, and he comes, thick
over Jean’s stomach.  He shivers, but doesn’t let go of Jean’s hand for the
longest time, not until Kirschtein slides out of him and Eren turns his head to
nuzzle him and slur out his praises.
“I… can’t breathe,” Jean says a little while later.
“Hm?”
And it takes Jean a little longer than necessary to realize the pain in his
chest isn’t from a pit of stunned emotions, but from two full grown men resting
on top of him.  He squirms, ignoring Eren’s lazy kisses over his face.
“I can’t breathe,” he shouts, and kicks them both off the cot without ceremony.
And if the whole thing had been two against one, Jean decides he’s definitely
won this round.
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