It was getting really hard to breath.
Maybe it was because how dark and cramped the closet was. Or maybe it was because of... something else.
Someone else.
Her hips were rolling back harder than he was pushing, so he was forced into the wooden chair occupying the emaciated storage cell.
They never even bothered to remove any clothing, or to check to see if the door was closed. They had locked lips and she had somehow made her way onto his lap.
The chair creaked. It wasn't built for this.
Their half-jackets were off, at least, and Mikasa's pesky upper buttons had popped off of her white blouse. It was hard to get to her neck with those things in the way.
His mind was slowly beginning to venture off. If it wasn't because of the grinding, it was because of the way she flung her head backwards, eyes sealed shut.
Or maybe it was just because it was getting really hard to breath.
He caressed her bottom perfectly in his broad hands. He thought that maybe his fingernails were dug in too deeply, but he heard no protest.
His sloppy kisses gravitated southward. The flesh against his lips gradually become softer and thicker. Eventually, he had to make an important decision. East or West.
He didn't remember which one he chose.
His teeth nibbled on the soft flesh as his tongue suckled. A gasp was heard in the mist of inhales, exhales, and moans. Not to forget the ricketing of the decrepit furniture they were currently... operating on.
It wasn't long until creamy, white fluid flowed into his mouth, corresponding with her dampening leggings.
Her eyes shot downwards into his. They reflected hunger. Desire. Her slender fingers reached down, pushing the fabric out of the way and unveiling her glory, signaling Eren to fill it.
He promptly responded by unzipping the bronze link in his trousers and carefully removing his pride. He almost smirked as he watched her eyes sharpen, clearly trying to take in as much detail as possible on the first glimpse.
His lifted her into position and slowly lowered her into place.
The sat still for a moment. Mikasa's eyes gently closed shut. Eren studied a drop of sweat as it maneuvered around her breast and fell onto his stomach. It erupted into more of its kind, which began cascading in-between and around the crevices of his abs, eventually sliding downward into the epicenter.
Her hips pushed into him in a wave-like manner. It was almost too slow to be bearable, but also too good to rush.
The rush of warmth and tightness almost pushed him off the edge, but he wanted it to last just a little but longer.
Her forehead was on his now, and her silky hair was falling into his eyes. It would have been annoying if it wasn't so soft. And if there weren't other things going on.
Their lips met. All he could really taste was sweat. It didn't matter, though, because he felt her tongue wrapping around his and their thrusts becoming deeper.
He would say he had five seconds left in him, and he was going to make them count.
"Eren...," she whispered. It came out as more of an exhale than a voluntarily statement.
Five
"Mikasa...," he responded. His hands were busy massaging the muscles on her back.
Four
His fingers dung into her rear again, clutching her closely to him. Her gasp was a little too loud.
Three
They both began rocking with their thrusts. They were perfectly in-tune with each other. However, Eren was moving quite considerably harder than Mikasa was.
Two
The sounds of their ruffling clothes and sharp breaths began to fill the odd corners of the closet. Well, those sounds and the cracking that was heard coming from underneath them.
It didn't take either of them long to figure out what was about to ensue. But, by then, it was already too late.
One
The pathetic excuse for furniture imploded beneath the couple. Eren took the brunt of the impact, with Mikasa on top of him. The damned chair wasn't tall, anyway. However, a thin piece of it had lodged itself into Eren's oblique.
"...damnmit... fucking chair..."
Mikasa had caught herself with both hands against the floor on either side of Eren's head. Her cheeks were pink, but her eyes were occupied with familiar worry.
"Are you alright, Eren?"
He shied away from her eyes and opted to sit up. There was a sting in his side, and he recognized the thick smell of the red fluid dampening the edge of his shirt.
"Can you get up?" She asked again, now sitting with her weight on her calves.
"Of course I can." He scoffed as he rose and patted the dust off of his trousers. The blood was beginning to trickle down along his hip. Eren slid past Mikasa and towards the door.
"Where are you going?" She asked his back.
"I'm going to go wash some of this off."
"I'll get some things to dress your wound."
He kept walking towards the door until he was interrupted with some rather unpleasant news.
"Umm... Eren."
"What?"
Her finger pointed southwards, and Eren began to take notice of the cool draft he felt in that area. He quickly sealed his dignity shut and stormed out of the room.
"Fucking chairs."
