
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/936747.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Marco_Bott/Jean_Kirstein, Marco_Bott_&_Jean_Kirstein
  Character:
      Marco_Bott, Jean_Kirstein
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Porn, Sexual_Fantasy, Shower_Sex,
      Enthusiastic_Consent, Shameless_Smut, Blow_Jobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-22 Words: 1605
****** (you + me) - everyone else = ******
by 100demons
Summary
     It’s nothing that Jean hasn’t seen before, but here, the two of them
     alone with nothing but hot steam and a flimsy shower curtain to keep
     the rest of the world out, Marco’s body is electrifyingly unfamiliar.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
It happens in history class, old Franz droning on about the industrialization
of the southern regions around Wall Rose. Jean’s dead bored out of his mind but
still maintains an effort of at least looking like he’s paying attention, which
is more than what half the class is doing. Sasha’s snoring in the back, Connie
doodling anatomically incorrect penises on her notes and Armin is using both
his elbows to keep Mikasa and Eren awake.
Jean’s shifting in his seat so he can complain to Marco about how fucking
stupid Eren looks with drool all over the front of his shirt and it happens.
Marco’s worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, the way he always does when
he’s concentrating hard on a lesson. His lips are slick and red, the skin under
his teeth going white from pressure. In the dim torchlight, Jean can see a
faint trail of freckles lingering on the curve of Marco’s jaw and down the line
of his throat.
Heat coils in the pit of his stomach and Jean imagines those soft lips pressed
against his head, wet with precum. Imagines Marco’s hand wrapped around the
base of his dick, running up and down the shaft, thick callouses tugging at
soft skin. Imagines following those freckles down Marco’s throat and under his
shirt, kissing each and every one that he finds.
“Oi, pay attention to the lecture.”
Jean blinks, the tip of Marco’s fountain pen prodding his arm. “There’s going
to be an exam next week on this.” Marco’s eyes narrow and he cocks his head.
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Fine,” Jean says, forcing himself to look down at his notes. He leans forward
in his seat and his dick twitches uncomfortably, half-hard and aching.
Fuck.
 
===============================================================================
 
The hot water is a miracle for his sore back, melting away the aches and pains
from 3D Maneuver Gear training. Jean leans forward and soaks in the heat,
forehead touching the tiled wall.
Three hours, jumping from tree to fucking tree like a monkey, hoping that your
hooks held and you wouldn’t fall thirty feet and die from a smashed spine.
Three hours of hanging from a branch fifty feet in the air with nothing but a
leather harness and two flimsy little wires, hoping that you were good enough
to never see a Titan in the flesh.
Jean checks the hourglass hanging on the steel divider on his left; he still
has a good ten minutes left before his allotted shower time is up. More than
enough time for a quick jerk off. With fifteen guys crammed into a tiny room,
the only privacy any of them ever had was in the showers.
Unbidden, his mind flits back to Marco’s face and his wet mouth, red and just
begging to be fucked. Jean’s hips jerk and his dick grinds against the palm of
his hand. It feels good, even better when he pretends that it’s not his but
Marco’s-- Marco’s fingers that circle around his base and squeeze, Marco’s
thumb that traces swirls on his head, Marco’s teeth just grazing his skin.
“Oi, Jean, I think I left my soap in there!”
Jean freezes, hand still wrapped around his dick.
“Kirchstein!”
“Not now,” he manages to choke out. “I’ll be done soon.”
“Come on, just hand it over.” Marco’s hand sneaks around the edge of the
curtain. “It’s not a big deal.”
Jean scrabbles at the soap on the shelf to his right and in his haste, drops
both bars on the ground. Swearing, he bends down and picks it up with shaking
hands. “Here,” he says and shoves the soap at Marco’s waiting hand.
Marco pokes his head through the gap between curtain and wall and beams at him.
“Thanks, I appreciate--” Then his eyes flick down and Marco flushes, cheeks
heating up a deep red.
Jean looks at him blankly, looks down, back up and then back down again.
Fucking shit, of all fucking times!
“I, er, erm.”
“I--” Jean says in a strangled voice.
“I should probably let you finish,” Marco croaks and his face heats up even
more. “I mean, erm, er--”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Jean says abruptly and then grabs at the wall next to
him. It sounds even worse aloud than in his head, with none of the sarcasm that
would’ve made it funny, instead of just. Fuck.
“Yeah?” Marco laughs shakily, but he doesn’t back away. “Seriously?”
Jean swallows hard. “Yeah,” he says.
Marco blinks and the two of them stare at each other for a long moment, faces
getting redder by the second.
“Okay,” Marco says and he slides into the stall, dropping the towel wrapped
around his waist onto the ground.
It’s nothing that Jean hasn’t seen before, but here, the two of them alone with
nothing but hot steam and a flimsy shower curtain to keep the rest of the world
out, Marco’s body is electrifyingly unfamiliar. He has freckles scattered all
along the lines of his chest, hips sharp and defined. There’s a trail of dark
hair down his stomach that leads to a dick that’s half hard and growing stiffer
by the second.
“Hi,” Jean says, his voice rough.
“Hi,” Marco says and gives him a crooked smile. “I totally interrupted you,
didn’t I?”
“It was a pretty asshole move,” Jean says and takes a step forward, water
sliding over his chest.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Marco says in a low voice and then gets down on his
knees. Jean stops, surprised, but it only gives Marco time to push Jean back
against a steel divider, dark head pressing against Jean’s thigh.
“Are you okay with this?” Marco looks up, pupils dilated so wide his eyes look
black instead of their normal light brown. “Do you want this?” Marco’s mouth is
so close that Jean can feel his breath ghosting over his dick.
“Fuck yes,” Jean says raggedly.
Marco hums and licks his hands, spitting on his palms and rubbing them
together. Jean nearly comes from the sight.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” Marco says and Jean’s about to retort that if
Marco ever got around to starting, maybe he’d have a chance to say so, but by
then Marco’s hands are wrapped around Jean’s dick and all the words fly out of
his head.
His grip is perfect; not too tight, but enough that it feels fucking amazing,
up and down in a smooth, unrelenting motion. Jean’s hips jerk rhythmically, and
he’s practically rutting in Marco’s face. “Holy shit,” Jean breathes, and leans
back against the wall, steel deliciously cold against his skin.
Marco gives him a smile that’s just a touch self-satisfied. “Feel good?”
“If you stop, I’m going to fucking kill-- oh.” Marco takes him in one swallow,
going in so deep that his nose just brushes Jean’s curls at the base of his
dick. “Fuuuuck,” Jean groans. Jean’s pathetic fantasies have nothing on the wet
tightness of Marco’s mouth, the way his tongue swirls and laps at the precum
leaking from his head, the way his cheeks hollow as he sucks.
“Marco, Marco please,” Jean begs and Marco looks up at him, eyes half-lidded
and mouth full of Jean’s cock, and what little self-control he has snaps in an
instant. Jean thrusts madly into Marco’s willing mouth, hands fisted in dark
curls and pulling him in as close as possible. Two deep strokes and Jean comes
in a blinding white hot fury, knees buckling and half-collapsing onto the wet
floor. Marco swallows it all, throat working as Jean pours what feels like
every inch of his soul into his mouth.
Jean collapses bonelessly into Marco’s arms.
“You alright?” Marco’s right arm is braced around his shoulder, his left hand
drawing aimless patterns on his chest. Jean raises a heavy hand and tugs Marco
head down for a kiss. The taste of his own cum on Marco’s tongue is salty and
bitter and incredibly satisfying.
“Fucking fantastic,” Jean says, his voice hoarse. “Feels like you tried to suck
my brains out through my dick.”
“My apology for interrupting you,” Marco grins, water beading down his face and
dripping down his throat.
“You should do it more often if it ends like this.” Jean shifts and feels
something hard press against his thigh. “Would you like an apology as well?” he
asks, looking speculatively up at Marco’s eyes.
“The great Jean Kirchstein, apologizing?” Marco’s fingers trace the edge of
Jean’s jaw. “How can I miss this?”
“Good,” Jean says, smiling wolfishly. “I’ll see you later then.” He stands up
on wobbly legs and shuts the water off just in time for the last grain of sand
to fall through the hourglass.
Marco looks up at him from the ground, slack-jawed. “What?”
“My fifteen are up,” Jean says, pointing at the hourglass. “So you’ll have to
wait until next time.”
“You asshole,” Marco laughs and gets up, wiping his mouth on the back of his
hand. “See if I help you out next time.”
“Make sure you forget your soap tomorrow too,” Jean grins and swipes his towel
from the hook, wrapping it around his waist. “I’ll be waiting.”
The shower stall is small enough that it only take two steps before Marco is
close enough that Jean can count all of his freckles. “Tomorrow?” he asks again
in a softer voice, looking up at Marco’s gentle brown eyes and trying hard to
breathe normally.
“Tomorrow,” Marco nods and leans in to press a kiss on the corner of Jean’s
mouth. “I’d like that.”
Jean gives him a small, shy smile. “Me too.”
End Notes
     My first ever pwp! /curls up in happy shame
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