Pairing: Riren/Ereri
Rating: T
Prompt: "They go on as they normally do. Except this one time when I messed up and hung upside down in front of Corporal and he walked up to me, tsked me and kissed me while I was upside down."

A/N: idk... my fave blog prompted some spider man kiss but idk i always drone on too much all the time [[also the prompt is a little changed, up there is a c/p but ive done a lil something of my own haha]]

Sweat trickles down in heavy beads down Eren's forehead, collects at the base and lingers on his chin. Rivaille either fails to notice or chooses to deliberately ignore his palpable exhaustion, seeing as how the corporal merely juts his own chin as he directs the boy to another lap of warm ups around the training grounds.

"S-sir, it's so hot!" Eren mumbles, lips dry and aching for the jug of water Hanji has set out for him hours prior. He licks his lips knowingly in the direction of the refreshment and Rivaille follows suit, eventually taking pity on the kid.

Rivaille rolls his eyes; Eren's come to realise that as his cue to carry out whatever request he's asked, before the corporal changes his mind. With a hurried bow and smile, he sprints toward the table and barely bats an eyelash at the glass to grasp the steel jug with both clammy palms. Rivaille watches him from a distance and squeezes his lids shut at the revolting sight.

Soon after Rivaille just about permits him to lay on his back in the beating sun for few seconds, his mood appears to shift almost immediately after witnessing the kid reach behind himself to pull off his shirt. In a flash, the corporal heeds him a hissed warning and declares no such thing to take place in his presence, and then also slips in the fact that there's no point stripping now, the black haired girl isn't here.

"Mikasa?" Eren responds, chest heaving with strained exhales, "Sir, what's she got to do with anything?" He tips the jug once more to his mouth and for a moment, Rivaille is a bit taken aback by the sheer velocity of his throat in regard to the rest of his body. A stream of glistening fluid hangs off the corner of his bottom lip, a combination of saliva and moisture and water, the knob of his neck bobs up and down at a virtually alarming frequency. Eren wipes the residue off with the back off his hand after he grows uncomfortable of the incessant glowering.

Rivaille takes to snatching the now empty pitcher away from his throbbing neck. "She's your girlfriend," he says, and his eyes are just short of meeting the boy's; "Am I incorrect?" The corporal inspects the visible fingerprints staining the container and bites his tongue to stop himself from lashing out any more at him.

"Where would you get that from, sir?" Eren dusts off his arse and stretches his arms above his head. Rivaille thinks he looks like some sort of overgrown kitten. "I've told you, we've known each other ages, 'thas'll."

The older remarks maybe it's time they head inside, but then he's met with Eren's retreating figure, no doubt to get into his manoeuvre gear. Rivaille shrugs, it's the first time he hasn't had to persuade the boy with countless orders; usually by this time of mid morning he's too fatigued to even make it back inside the legions' quarters on his own two feet.

Eren hasn't quite come around to Rivaille's somewhat divided personality. His brown locks shade his eyes as he stares at the ground and wills the tree he's hanging down from to collapse and permit the ground in swallowing him right there. Eren's cheeks flame red and he wants to ball his fists, but his entire body is woven so tightly in his equipment, anywhere above his neck is numb. He can't seem to get himself out quick enough of the situation and, before he knows it, Rivaille stamps towards him with a look that just about solidifies the daggers penetrating him.

And suddenly, after those few short minutes into the drills, the entire atmosphere surrounding Rivaille's tranquillity falls apart and it's the rise of the hot-headed corporal who can't even comprehend no for an answer and is bellowing at Eren for having screwed up the god damned beginner's exercise.

"How the fuck did you even graduate?" Rivaille shouts right in the boy's crushed face, "You can't even fucking get yourself airborne without looking like an amputated vegetable!"

"This doesn't usually happen, sir…" Eren quickly mumbles, too mortified to look his superior in the face. His voice sounds unfamiliar to his own ears, but then he decides that is perhaps the result of his sore positioning and the blood rushing to the wrong parts in the wrong direction.

Rivaille speaks, anger distinct between the lines, "Then what does usually happen, mm?"

Judging from Eren's outlook, he can see the man's brows crease together and lips scowl into the habitual glare. The pores of his skin are pale and smooth; his hair is glossy, neat and crisp. Rivaille's eyes are small but the pigment of colour within make up for it; sometimes Eren sees them in his sleep. It's no bit reassuring actually waking up to them, staring into his very soul from outside the holding cell. He has prime height for remarkable hugs but Eren's never going to risk it. Just about everything he sees of Rivaille is petite and thin and flawless.

Eren wishes he could think the same for his mentality.

Rivaille continues to stare at him, although Eren realises he's not watching him, rather, the man's gazing at Eren's lips, exactly where his eyes would be if he weren't currently seeing the world from his current perspective. And then there's the thunderous ripple of a sharp hand delivered straight to his cheek. "What the hell was that for?" Eren instantaneously yelps – his face scrunched up now more than ever. His cheek is stinging and it hurts like fuck, it takes a minute or so for him to reopen his eyes and take in Rivaille's expressionless façade.

"What the fuck, sir!" He whines on without missing a beat, but Rivaille only stands there like the previous course of action hasn't left his number one priority with a throbbing jaw. "What was that even for?"


"P-p-precaution? Sir, what the fuck, am I freaking bleed– " Rivaille presses his palm against Eren's constantly blabbering mouth and takes an extra liking to how his eyes widen at the older's touch, and then he stops mumbling into him completely when the hand is substituted for a mouth. Eren's abnormal stance in the touch drives his brain into overdrive and his lips somewhere along the same line, hesitant and careful and plain frightened of what the outcome of responding, or rather, not responding, will be. Eren feigns shutting his lids; he's in fact studying the corporal's expression in comparison to his own, he looks almost like he's passionate about it.

The younger puckers his lips and visibly shakes as Rivaille inquires his lips marginally open, nauseatingly sweet tongue marking its way past Eren's mouth, of which has only recently cussed right at his face. Rivaille dips his head in lower and takes advantage of his hanging drawback, he cups the boy's cheeks and erupts in a purr down up his jaw and towards his throat. Eren's cheeks are redder than the slap, he's blushing, his eyes are squinting, and his body is trembling, all in wake of Rivaille's movements.

He stalks his fingers down the bow in his flesh; his nails are sharp and Eren squeals when he pinches him, it's kinda like Rivaille's experimenting on some newfound specimen: a tied up Eren Yeager, unable to say a word and incapable of consenting. Both of them feel it entirely inadequate on so many levels, Eren far more than Rivaille, but neither of them mention anything of it, purely because they can't be bothered tearing their mouths off the other in spite of their lacking oxygen supply.

Eren relies on Rivaille to uphold his sanity, he's in complete control of it as of present, and the boy finds himself bending forward however much he can possibly tension his body into the curvature of Rivaille. Inevitably, when the older pauses the embrace, to undoubtedly surface for air from the ocean of want that is Eren, he actually mewls, and it's the single most fucked up sound he's ever made but according to Rivaille it's enough to lean in once more – even if it's just for the curtains close.

Eventually, Rivaille deems it at its conclusion and relishes the pout gracing his face. The expression sings honeyed invitations for round two, but he assumes it fair that he assist Eren out the mess he's got himself into before they opt for any more upside down collisions.

Eren's on his feet and they're packing up the light gear they bring to training. He looks fairly light headed and woozy, perceptible in the manner of his giddy skipping on the short walk back. They reach the turning point of both their returns and then Eren leans down to him, but Rivaille's taught and known him well enough to not instigate first. "What was… you know, that, for?"

Rivaille pinches his cheeks and decides that's enough of an answer.

a/n: ahhhhh please leave feedback... ._.