AN : Guess who's back? Back again, Shieru's back, tell a friend! Heya guys, it's been a loooong while since I last posted something here but as I said before, I would be back with updates on June so here I am. My exams went perfectly fine, studied hard, so here I am rewarding you with a fic and not just any kind of fic, a smutty one! You all deserved it for being so patient with me.

For now I am sticking with one shots like this one because for some reason I can't think the way I want to, meaning my multichap stories are going to be updated later. But worry not, I shall update them. Well most of them anyways.

In other news EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN. EVERYONE. AND YES I AM TALKING ABOUT THE MANGA AND NOT THE ANIME. BECAUSE ERERI/RIREN. YEP. AND DON'T YOU GIVE ME SHIT FOR SPELLING THEIR NAMES THE WAY I DID.

Without any further ado dig in you sick perverted bastards~ dedicating this to my midget Rivaille-senpai, even tho I know that she's a major blushy virgin and won't probably read this. My beansprout/Castiel/Rivaille/Senpai THIS IS FOR YOUUUU.

Title: Before the clock strikes

Rating: M

Pairing: Rivaille/Eren Jaeger

Summary: As long as the corporal wants him, it is alright. This is love and Eren knows it. And then he thinks that maybe he wants to say in this rotten yet beautiful world just a little bit longer.

Warnings: Pain of one sided love, sexual themes, slight spoilers for the manga (nothing major) and little to no plot.

This is what he wants. Nothing more nothing less, just this.

'It's fine.' He thinks. More than fine.

If this is the way the raven haired corporal wants to treat him so be it. This may not be Eren's happy ending, not exactly what he wants, but if he gets Rivaille to touch him, kiss him, then it is okay. It's more than he can ask for really.

Feelings of affection and love, sneaking in secret soft kisses, light brushing of fingertips, holding hands—just the feeling of being together like mom and dad once were—are something that he wishes for. Fantasies he's had since he was a little kid crushing on the humanity's strongest hero—his hero, are fine inside his head unvoiced like they've always been. He can dream, but he won't ask for more because his hero, his commander, his crush–turned-love later on, his dare he say most loved person isn't willing to give him more.

It starts out physical and that's all it will ever be.

Rivaille has made himself perfectly clear, so Eren will bite his lip and keep up with him.

Eren doesn't voice out any protests when the older man roughly grabs him by the back of his neck and kisses him. It's wet, sloppy and it burns in the best way ever, his heart is racing and it makes him lightheaded. It is not gentle, far from it really because Rivaille is never gentle. The kiss is all teeth, and bruised lips, short rushed intakes of air and breathy moans that Eren makes. Those callused fingers—the hands of a soldier, press painfully against his jaw and Eren opens his mouth.

Rushed, willing.

His body is screaming for this and he's willing to show the older man that he wants this, he needs this and Rivaille knows. He knows Eren like the back of his hand by now, because it is not the first time.

To Eren it is always feels like the first.

That mouth is unforgiving, bruises left in the most obvious places, bite marks and broken skin and Eren hates the fact that it doesn't last; his Titan power heals all of the evidence that they were actually doing this; it hides the traces Rivaille leaves on him.

'Open your mouth.' Rivaille commands, lifting his mouth away from the smooth skin of the teen's neck long enough just to order it and bites down harshly. Once, twice, again and again he has lost count.

Eren obeys like he always does and runs his tongue over the black haired man's fingers, welcoming the insistent press of them.

'How lewd. Enjoying this a bit too much, brat?' he hears the corporal tease him, voice snarky and emotionless just like the face he's making despite the slight upturn of his smirk.

Eren closes his eyes and slides his tongue along Rivaille's middle finger, weakly biting it in response, tugs at the wire digging into his wrists and feels them bleed.

He bucks his hips insistently seeking contact, feels a drop of saliva slide down his cheek, face burning red.

He hates himself for what he's doing, but nevertheless he loves it, enjoys it, craves it. More of this friction.

He doesn't feel like looking at the older one's face, doesn't want to see the lack of emotions. It's only physical and nothing more—there can't be more. It's his duty, and his duty is to please the corporal.

He's fine with pushing his feelings away, he always was. They live in this country, fucked up and at the same time so fucking beautiful. The people here are caged like birds, predators swarming all around the other side, waiting, trying to tear the metal bars of that cage open. Their kind won't live long enough, Eren knows that and it makes him so fucking bitter that they still have such a long way to go to get rid of their predators.

Those god damned Titans he swore to kill and keeps reminding that to himself every single day, wakes up with thoughts of hate and revenge in his head and heart. It's what keeps him going through the day, poisons him, makes him forget the pain in his muscles when he's training, washes away his thoughts, his concerns.

Eren is always concerned for Mikasa, Armin, even that stupid bastard Jean. He doesn't want them dead, oh god no, not even one of them. Doesn't want them to end up like Marco, their comrade's body torn apart. And they have so little time and the burden of their humanity is heavy on their shoulders, it's their duty to carry it once they join the scouting legion and their time is cut short. It keeps slipping away.

It's tearing him apart mentally and physically. Rivaille is harsh, he's not gentle nor is he forgiving. He seeks pleasure, he likes control, order. Eren can count on one hand the times Rivaille gave a shit about hurting him or acting gentle. It hurts, his heart is breaking, but he wants more.

The bites are already healing and the older man 'tsks' in irritation. Eren is unmoving and he feels like crying but he doesn't want to appear like some little girl.

Rivaille knows. He always does.

'Stop suppressing it. I want to hear you.'

The vice like grip is back on his jaw, and Eren is sure his face is bruised from the sheer intensity. Nevertheless he still keeps his green eyes shut, bites his bleeding lip when all he wants is to let out those lewd sounds that he's making. He wants them to fill the room loud and clear, a part of him wants others to know what they're doing behind closed doors and that the corporal is his and his alone, and Eren is slipping under—

'Open your eyes. Look at me.'

Eren's resolve wavers because for a moment it sounds like concern coming from the corporal's mouth and he risks a glance, only to find those predator-like eyes staring at him glaring like always.

It's enough to make his resolve shatter and he lets go when the older man grinds his hips against his.

He pleads in a weak voice for more and Rivaille gives it to him.

He feels a finger sliding inside of him and it burns. The second one is quick to join and Eren trashes about. It hurts, it is far from comfortable but it is alright when the pleasure washes over him and Rivaille bites at the skin of his ribcage.

They die.

He sees them die one by one with each passing day. Less and less.

He remembers that saying his mother used to say a lot of the times. What was it…? Ah yes, it was:

'They are all falling down like flies.'

It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, because in a way they are. And they all fall down eventually.

He stands by Rivaille's side and he wants nothing more than to do so until the very end, until his own time runs out. Eren is someone he hates, and he has the least time to spare out of all of them.

He can't keep holding on, can't think straight. His mind is seeking release and now the corporal is teasing him, it is plain as day. He works his hand in slow, lazy and experienced movements knowing exactly what makes Eren tick. One flick of his wrist and the teen is screaming out.

Eren is loud, the room almost echoes and he's begging pride be damned, if he even had some to spare that is.

'You don't sound convincing, maybe you should beg more.'

That voice drives him crazy.

Eren whimpers when those fingers slide against the sensitive spots inside of him, and his hands are shaking, lips bleeding from the pressure his own teeth put on them.

'Please…nhh—I need you to…ah-'

Rivaille's eyes are on him and he feels more exposed than he ever was.

'What was that? You need me to what?' the older man asks and repeats the motion.

It is torture.

Rivaille is strong; he's so powerful and unbeatable, fast like lightning and brave. He is like a fortress that is unbreakable, a fortress that hasn't been conquered and whenever Eren looks at that small figure standing straight up with some sort of grace to it, he can help but look at his hero with admiring eyes and think how nice it would be to stay in this rotten world just a little bit longer, but he knows it is impossible.

Rivaille tells Eren that when the time comes, he'll be the one to kill him, he is the one to slash his swords through Eren's neck in a clean cut, and send him to the afterlife and Eren doesn't want anything more. He'd be happy and honored to die by the hands of his hero and not some military rookie holding his swords in trembling hands, shaking and inexperienced, fearing to even look at Eren when he's transformed.

Sometimes he remembers what he would be leaving behind and then regrets begin. Mikasa's beautiful eyes that he adores, he doesn't want them to be full of sorrow and loss. She gives Eren sad looks whenever he's breaking apart and it is something Eren has learned to despise, he cannot bear the thought of such sadness knowing that he is going to be the cause of it. She's the only family he has left, the only one he's ever known for the last few years. He doesn't want Armin upset—happy smiles suit him so much more—and he doesn't want their comrades grieving. But most of all he doesn't want to leave Rivaille's side, not until they reach their goal and all of the human flesh eating parasites are gone from this world and he's the only one left.

He wants to be those wings of liberty that adorn the Scouting Legion's uniform; he wants to make Rivaille proud. He wants to make him fly even thought Rivaille doesn't really need it.

He has always had wings inside Eren's world.

'Please, don't tease me, Ri—Riva—ahh.'

The black haired man stops, and Eren sneaks another glace at him, but his face is still blank, a perfect mask.

Then with one harsh movement those fingers probe at his prostate and Eren thinks he sees stars for a moment.

'It's Corporal Rivaille or sir to you, Eren Jaeger.' The older man fastens his pace and Eren doesn't know where he is or who he is for a moment because it feels so damn good—

'Do you have it memorized?'

'Ahh… P-please…'

'Do you?'

'Y-Yes, sir, I—I understand. Nhh—please s-stop teasi—nggh.'

He doesn't.

He dreams about stupid things.

When they kiss, sometime Eren thinks how good it would feel be to be together like this, before the sand slips through his fingers completely and he has to go. He wants that clock handle to stop minutes before midnight and he wants to sweep the black haired man off his feet, he wants love that he knows he's never going to get and wants to spend a lifetime together with him. He wants to have his undying affections returned, even if it is a little, but Eren's imagination is not yet satisfied and he keeps on dreaming happy things. Foolish dreams of rings and beautiful sunsets. Peaceful lives.

The beginning after the ending.

Seeing the world together.

Happiness until they die.

No titans to interrupt—no nothing— his bones ache with need, such big need for peace of mind, for this tension that keeps wearing him out, for this poison that seeps him through the bones to go away. Just so that he can hold that tense figure in his arms until it relaxes and maybe just maybe the corporal will lean into his touch and won't brush it away. He wants the older one to relax, wash away the sorrows and the eerie feeling of missing comrades, the empty presence of people that were gone in an instant.

He can't say it. He can't say it, because it's not like that. Not like he wants and it never will be, so he's silent. Silence is good at times like these, he knows that much. Eren is loud and annoying, he knows it, he knows that his eagerness might get him killed, he had Rivaille prove that so many times, but he cannot control it. The anger and thoughts of revenge have him completely under their control like a puppet on a string.

People are puppets too, in the hands of some higher force, some sort of god. A lot of the people here are controlled by the great three walls; others believe in other things, and Eren—he's lost faith a long time ago. He has lost it the moment he saw his mother get eaten alive in that attack all those years ago and his faith was even more diminished when he entered the trainee squad and saw for himself the cruelty of this world, the pieces of people he's known, friends, instructors, comrades carried inside the 'safety' of the walls. There's no god, and if there is it had abandoned Eren by sending all of that suffering.

He has a purpose and he knows what to do— it keeps him moving forward. It's what makes him try harder, work harder. If Eren did not have a purpose he thinks that he would have turned into one of many people out there not able to handle the sheer amount of pressure.

He stills remembers the cold dead body hanged by the rope in the middle of the city.

And when he thinks about it he knows why they did it and he doesn't blame them like some of his comrades, when all of the trainee squad gather around later at the cafeteria and discuss about the suicides of soldiers.

It doesn't take long for Eren to come undone by the older man's hand alone. He was on the brink of release and the dirty whispers and promises of rough sex made his whole body give in completely. It was enough for Rivaille to blow air against his burning ears and it was done.

His mind still in the post orgasm haze he barely registered the corporal's disdainful words, as he flicked his wrist to sides, and Eren felt his own body fluids, his own semen drop on his stomach.

'Tche, what a mess you made. Damn brat, you should warn me next. Can't have you doing that again, how about I teach you a lesson? Every dog needs to learn some obedience.'

Just hearing that made him twitch back to life and shivers run down his spine, excitement pumping in his veins. It was so wrong but at the same time so right. The corporal brought his smeared hand to the teen's lips, pressing the bottom one down with his thumb. The bitter liquid brushed against his tongue and Eren refused the urge to cough violently.

'I'll make sure you won't get out of this office without limping for the next three days.'

The older one slid his fingertips down the teen's jaw and Eren closed his eyes again.

He was disgusting.

This was so wrong, yet he couldn't help but notice how gentle those fingers were, and leaned his head into the touch, forgetting that his own fluids were being smeared across his cheek. The warmth of that hand pulled Eren against it like a magnet, skin rough but at the same time warm. The corporal's hand was on his cheek, a kind and warm gesture, fingertips rubbing carefully, softly.

Rivaille and gentleness didn't go together.

But once in a while… Once in a while it was an amazing combination.

With a content sigh, Eren leaned into the touch even more, the older man's lips pressing against his own, softly at first but then firm later, his tongue pushing through his lips in a forceful entry, and Eren didn't mind, not one bit.

The jangle of a belt being removed and the slide of the zipper in the silent room told Eren what was about to come and he hated the fact he couldn't embrace Rivaille, couldn't touch him, couldn't pretend that this was an act of love and not need.

Eren was never one for reading. Things like books consumed time, depending on how fast you read them and how dedicated you were, and that time could better be used for training. He was so unlike Armin, who loved to take a break and read a novel or two. Even to this day Eren and Armin talk about the books Armin reads, most of them written about the outside world. Eren takes his time with his best friend and enjoys the way Armin gets excited and tells him about the stories he has read. He thinks that the blond is a good story teller, and sometimes he thinks to himself that his friend would be better suited for another type of job— most definitely not the military kind—like maybe an author, or explorer, that is of course they kill all of the Titans.

When Eren talks with Armin he sometimes turns into his eight year old self when they still made plans to go outside and explore the world together and thinks that it is easy and possible. They still talk about it, but the reality is breathing on the back of their necks and it's ready to bite you in the ass, so they avoid it. Instead Armin tells Eren about some shitty romance novels that he never understood nor did he like, and Eren teases the blond and tells him to stop acting like such a girl— in a friendly way of course because Armin is already sensitive about those kinds of accusations—but he still listens like always.

Armin likes memorizing heart wrenching lines that left him a big impression while reading the book and squeezing them into the conversation, not like he tries to it just comes naturally.

Eren forgets about the plot, and his mind traces back to a certain black haired man as the blond drones on about the complexity of the plot and the relationship between the main characters.

It's small things like Armin's quotes that give him hope that maybe someday his feelings will be returned and that maybe the humanity's number one strongest feels something for him.

It's quick and fast and nearly not long enough.

Rivaille pushes himself inside of him unceremoniously, not bothering to warn the teen about it. Eren throws his head back and lets out a muffled shout. One part of him feels dirty and used but the other loves it to the fullest. Rivaille is fast today—unlike most of the times, the slow almost lazy roll of hips is changed into erratic thrusting, fast and deep. It hurts so fucking bad but in such a good way Eren can't help but let his needy side come out again.

'Faster—ah… please—fuck, faster! Nhh—'

Rivaille listens to his sickening mewling and moves faster, slams his hips harder with animal like ferocity and begins swearing under his breath, something about how fucking tight Eren is and how slutty he is and Eren doesn't care because he knows it to be true. He feels like a slut, but it is love this is love. This is the only way he can show his love without saying anything, the only time he can connect with the one he has loved for so long he's forgotten the time. Rivaille wants him, he wants him in a physical way only and not in the way Eren would like, but he still wants him and that's okay, that's perfect, this is perfect. They are connected, and Rivaille is holding him close and at moments like this he can hear the older one's heartbeat, feel that scarred skin against his own. It's enough seeing Rivaille in this state, it is enough seeing the sweat rolling down that toned body, and that look, the look he gives him, clouded by sexual desires makes it complete. It makes Eren feel alive.

They connect, they touch, and they kiss. It's all that Eren wants. He feels pleasure but it's not just some grains of pleasure he's seeking— it's not just pleasure he finds— it is the fulfilling feeling in his stomach. Warmth.

At moments like these Eren feels like he and Rivaille are meant to be. He thinks that he's the only one for him.

The pressure builds in his lower stomach and Eren is close, sweat rolls down his back and drips carelessly on the floor. His neck keeps healing, but the older man doesn't bite it today, mouth glued to the younger one's.

It's different, full of feeling and it's enough to make Eren almost blurt it out:

'Ahhh—Rivaille… I—I—nh… I lo—'

The first waves of orgasm crash and his mind shuts down.

Almost.

Even if Eren lived a million lifetimes, even if he was born into a different kind of world, a world with no Titans he would still fall in love with the same person over and over again.

And in every life he would wait for his feelings to be returned and maybe someday they actually would be.

It takes time. A thing they do not have.

He craves the touches, the warmth, the kisses and so so much more, but some things are just never going to come true.

He's lost faith, he has little to no hope, but that one thing remains the same. His sense of shame is long gone, the first time Rivaille touched him, he threw out his self esteem and his pride, carrying broken shards of it and some part is disgusted that he's doing this, finds it degrading. It makes Eren think that he's an unworthy slut, much like those prostitutes in dark alleys, but he's doing this because he's in love- so disgustingly in love and he doesn't fucking care if he's being humiliated or used.

This is love. If there's love this is it.

And he is going to stay quiet.

When they are done, Eren rubs his sore wrists and massages his stiff shoulders. The corporal is fixing his shirt, looking to the mirror and Eren sneaks quick glances at him.

He almost said it. Almost ruined everything.

'This is only physical. What the hell did you think it was brat, some shitty romance novel? Did you expect me to swipe you off your feet and ride with you into the sunset?'

"Eren." Rivaille says after he catches the teen's green eyes staring through the reflection of the mirror, and he slightly turns to the side but doesn't completely face him. "Was there something you wanted to tell me back then?"

Eren stops rubbing his red wrist and stares at it.

This is love.

"No, sir. Nothing at all."

END.