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Coming home at eight in the evening is mostly unrealistic, Jean thinks, as the remaining scenes he has to shoot for must have an evening set-up. Worse, explicit shots with his co-star, Marco, whom he has absolutely been uneasy with these past few days.
When he first signed the contract, he couldn't say no to the large sum of money offered to him, nor the once in a lifetime opportunity to work with a renowned star. As a rising celebrity, with a chance not given to many amateurs, Jean is eternally grateful that he has gained a decent fanbase, deals, and sponsorships, allowing him to continue paying his penthouse.
However, the root of his anxiety - the main reason why he dreads coming into work after going over the movie script - is his long-time boyfriend, Eren Jaeger.
Eren is unemployed.
He lives off of his dad’s hospital chains, his mom’s pampered upbringing, and his surgeon brother. Sure, at eighteen, Eren has promised to use Grisha’s graduation gift (which is a whopping five-digit sack of cash, by the way) for business. A piercing and tattoo shop, or investing in stupid bitcoins or something.
Truly, Jean never believed Eren would pursue any of it, such as the first time he met Eren at a gay bar. Back then, the shorter man with an awkward hair phase bought Jean a drink, and started babbling about his generational wealth, which really shouldn't have fascinated Jean. Eren was such a piece of shit when he still was in his late teenage angst. Now, though, after nine years, Eren has become less edgy, actually tamed for once, yet still the whiney, adorable bitch Jean comes home to every night.
Jean thinks that Eren is his soulmate. He'll definitely spend the rest of his life with the spoiled brat, who complains when Jean forgets to hold his hand when they're outside, who gives Jean foot rubs and feeds him grapes and bakes fruitcakes for him. Eren might as well be a goddess whose emerald eyes glow every time Jean arrives from work, and fuck - Jean wonders how the hell Eren Jaeger was the first to approach him. He must have unconsciously slipped a love potion in Eren's booze or something.
Anyway, Jean can't wait to push the door open, peel off his shoes, and cuddle with Eren on the couch, or wherever the hell he initially sees him lying around. As he impatiently pulls the hoodie over his head, leaving him with a white tee that he's been aching to shower out of, he finds Eren on the sofa, watching television.
His partner is reclining beneath the knitted blanket Mikasa had gifted him on his birthday, with a bag of Takis on his lap, his long hair sprawled on the throw pillow.
Jean sighs. The easy, loving smile creeping up on his lips. Instantly, he feels all the weight of the world - the pressure of cameras on him, making sure he doesn't waste the directors and staff member’s time and effort, conversing with Marco whom he looked up to - has been lifted from his shoulders all because of Eren.
A grounding and mellow relationship.
Jean must have done every good thing in the world to be given the title of Eren's one and only love.
“Baby,” Jean swoons, leaning his torso to give Eren a kiss on the top of his head.
Eren squirms from his lips, huffing and dusting his hair from the quick contact.
Jean frowns, but it quickly evaporates when he finds Eren’s lips pulled into a scowl, his thick eyebrows nearly knitted into one. “Alright, what’s the problem?”
The man shakes his head, his eyes remaining on the TV. “Nothing.”
He raises a brow. Nothing is definitely an Eren Jaeger code for You did something that I absolutely fucking hate and you have to know exactly what, even though I won’t tell you what it was or else I’ll burn you alive. So like what a good boyfriend does, Jean carefully drags the blanket off Eren’s lap, sitting next to him and putting back the blanket over both of them. Except Eren doesn’t relent, scooting one seat apart.
Jean can only stare at the side profile of Eren, focusing on the TV. His long lashes flatter every time he blinks, his green eyes glimmering in concentration and, somehow, irritation. Eren pops two Takis in his mouth, his teeth gnashing on the chips, before he snaps:
“Are you not going to apologize?”
“I don’t know what I did,” Jean tries to calmly say, but he almost fails, as Eren tosses a pillow on his face. “I literally just came home from work. I haven’t even had dinner. What do I have to say sorry for -”
“Good,” Eren murmurs, “because I didn’t cook.”
Jean groans. Eren is now on the far end of the couch, cuddling and owning the blanket to himself. He is seething with rage, the tips of his ears a bright red.
“Alright, fine. Fine. I’ll cook, and when I’m done, you better tell me what the fuck’s wrong with you.”
However, when he starts picking up the bag of noodles from the pantry, he’s equally vexed when he notices Eren typing on his phone and giggling to himself. Jean sharply breathes through his nose, grabbing the whisk from the drawer. He is halfway through mixing butter with heavy cream on the bowl, when he clenches his jaw as he remembers he should be boiling the fettuccine pasta on the stove.
“You should take me there next time!” Eren gushes. Jean rolls his eyes, trying to ignore his boyfriend now happily facetiming Armin on the phone. “Why can’t you bring sharks home with you? I would love to have one as a pet.”
“Aw, Eren. I can’t kidnap one, I’ll get fired.” Armin chuckles.
Their conversation continues the whole time Jean cooks, and once he has placed the pasta on the counter, is the only time Eren actually stands up from the couch and sits on one of the stools. Jean stares at him as he wipes his hands dry with a towel. Eren doesn’t speak, just clutches a fork and starts eating.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Jean asks.
Eren doesn’t reply. He’s taking way too many bites to spit out an answer, anyway.
“I couldn’t send you take-outs ‘cause the filming hours were so hectic,” Jean tries again, his tone very apologetic and empathetic, now.
He might be damn exhausted, his whole body waiting to give out, but he would never raise his voice at Eren. Dating him for a long time taught him that aggressive fights don’t result in anything good; besides, Eren had learned to not scream at him, too. They’re both trying.
Putting his hand over Eren’s, he rubs his knuckles, sighing. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Eren eventually chews slowly. Jean’s heart grows erratic at the way Eren’s nose reddens, the edges of his eyes swelling.
And when his lips quiver, Jean hastily steps towards him and spins his chair. Wrapping arms around Eren’s shoulders, he showers him plenty of kisses on the forehead, shushing him as he sobs.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Jean keeps whispering. Eren cries on his chest, the fettuccine alfredo cold and forgotten behind them. “I should’ve texted you. I forgot, and was so exhausted that -”
“It’s not about lunch,” Eren sobs, shaking his head. Jean stiffens, but continues to card Eren’s hair behind his ears. “H-Hange sent me a clip of you and Marco kissing…”
Jean squeezes his eyes shut. “Oh my god.”
Hange is Jean’s manager. They’ve known each other way back when Jean was still considering an acting career. Hange has always been there for both of them, like a parent while their folks are not in the same city. But sometimes, they could be a bit… excited, even though Jean has already told them countless times that Eren dislikes it when he sees Jean’s romantic scenes with his co-actors.
Eren watches his movies during pre-screening or at home with Jean; however, it’s either he averts his eyes from the screen when Jean kisses someone else, or Jean has to spend the whole night reminding Eren he is the only person he’ll love while tightly locking him in an embrace.
Hange must have meant well, been proud to show off Jean’s skills to his Eren, but of course, Eren isn’t all for it, even if he does praise Jean all the time for making his name in the industry.
“I’ll talk to them, okay?” Jean gently cups Eren’s cheeks, pulling him to face him. Kissing his forehead once, he smiles, though this only births new tears from Eren’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I - ugh, of all the things they could’ve shown you…”
Eren sniffles, his lips puckered. He blinks then, and tears slither down his jaw. Jean almost swoons at how pretty he looks, but it’s not the perfect time for that.
“Are you going to leave me for Marco?” Eren asks.
Jean quickly answers, “No, I won’t. He’s just another co-worker, okay? Everything we do is a part of our job. I’m yours. I love you, only you. I’m crazy about you, you know that.”
Thankfully, Eren calms down after a minute, Jean wiping his snot with his own shirt.
“What's your schedule tomorrow?” Eren eyes him with swollen lids.
Jean thinks for a while, shrugging. “Nothing, I guess. It's my day off.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Eren buries his face on his collarbones, his arms wrapping around his back. “Let's stay like this ‘til your next film schedule.”
Jean wants to laugh at how unbelievably cute Eren is, but knows that if he does, Eren might sulk and not talk to him for hours. So, he deliberately lifts Eren from his seat.
“Hey! What're you doing?” Eren panics, his head panning over to his meal. “I'm still hungry, you know!”
“Yup.” Jean kisses his cheek, while Eren chains his waist with his legs and his hands clasped behind his neck. It always surprises him how easily he can carry Eren, knowing the man is made up of just as much muscle mass as him. With a free hand, Jean clutches Eren's plate of pasta, leading him towards the couch. “We gotta make the most of my day-off.”
Eren doesn't complain anymore, letting Jean bring him towards the sofa. There is a smile ghosting on his lips, and Jean almost explodes how adorable he is. Yeah, how does a grown ass man manage to be as gorgeous as Eren? He wonders why he's the actor, and not Eren. Modelling should have been Eren's career, not unemployment and a daily routine of what game he should purchase next.
Jean doesn't bother putting Eren down. He places the plate on the coffee table, before sitting himself and Eren is on his lap. Eren giggles and picks up the pasta, humming as he eats with Jean.
They spend the next hour watching TV at Netflix when one of Sasha Braus’ movies flashed on the screen. Jean considers congratulating his friend for getting nominated for an international award, but he should just do it tomorrow, since Eren is busy playing with their weaved fingers while Jean feeds him the fettuccine alfredo.
“Is Marco single?” Eren asks out of nowhere as the credit scene starts playing.
Jean shrugs. “I’m… not sure, actually. I didn't ask.”
“Well you should.” He turns to him slightly over his shoulder, verdant eyes narrowing. “He's your friend, right?”
“I mean, not really?” Jean props the empty plate on the table with a quiet thud. “We're just co-workers.”
Eren huffs. Before Jean can follow it up, his boyfriend shifts so he's straddling him, his fingers digging on Jean's shoulder. The way Eren's brows scrunch up nearly makes Jean grin widely, but he doesn't, as this is another one of their serious conversations.
“What do you do on set?”
Jean thinks for a while. “I practice my lines with Hange. Sometimes I ask the director about his opinions on the scenes, so that we'd save time. Levi's a bit grumpy if we get more than five takes, he's scary.”
“And Marco?” Eren pouts.
Jean rolls his eyes. “We only talk about the film. Nothing else.”
“Mm. Okay,” is what Eren says, but he sinks into his shoulder and becomes silent, like he's thinking very hard to himself.
Without a word, Jean corners his cheeks with his palms. “Are you still thinking about the kiss?”
Eren's eyes raise, the pupils shaky as he nods. “I can't stop, okay? When I watched it, I was so pissed… and you weren't answering my calls so I just got more anxious.”
“I'm sorry,” Jean murmurs earnestly, leaning forward and giving him a peck. Eren sighs into his lips, his grip on Jean's shoulder tightening. When they part, Eren breathes through his nose. Jean can't take his eyes off him. “I'll make sure you won't have to see me kissing anyone but you, ever again. I'll talk to Hange, I promise. And I'll never fall in love with anyone else - even if I kiss them, I'll always come home to you.”
Eren clamps his lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Jean smiles.
That is enough permission for Jean to kiss him again. This time, it is much more intimate, both of them deeply sighing and hands getting lost in the heat of their bodies. He can feel Eren tenting in his shorts, his legs spreading wider as Jean pulls him by his waist and crashes their chests together. Pale fingers strain between the strands of long, dark hair, nails digging on the scalp for a chance to be any closer than they already are.
And once Jean's fingers get lost under Eren's skirt and rubbed his nipples, sharp teeth sink into his neck.
“Eren,” Jean stutters, the touch so overpowering.
Eren moans when Jean flicks a nub, his tongue lapping against his neck, even louder when Jean grinds onto his crotch.
“What's your next scene like?” Eren murmurs, not forgetting to pepper kisses on his hot skin.
Jean can't think straight. Somewhere along those minutes, Eren is taking off his own shirt, the ink on his gorgeous tanned chest greeting Jean in a frenzy. Jean has to run a hand through his waxed hair, the locks swaying on his forehead at the sight before him. Dating Eren Jaeger is one hell of a jackpot.
“You won't like it,” Jean says.
Eren frowns. His palms are suspended on Jean's neck, his thumb tracing circles from where he left a mark. “Tell me.”
“Are you sure?”
Eren just stares at him annoyingly.
Jean sighs. “It’s… explicit. And yes, by explicit, I mean - a bed scene.”
He isn't surprised when that earns a groan from Eren, instantly diving towards his skin and biting his neck. Jean mewls, but not in pain, as he likes it very fucking much. He can't keep teasing Eren's nipples anymore, his hands squeezing Eren's clothed ass. Eren continues to lap on his neck, slick with saliva, nipping on it at least five times before he pulls Jean's tee over his head. He tosses it on the floor, already forgotten ages ago.
Every time Eren slides his palms on Jean's chest, his canines pummel deeper on his throat. The taller male's breath hitches, his head tipping upwards to give his partner more access. Eren hums to this particular movement of his, his thumb playing with Jean's nipples.
“You're not going to do this with Marco, are you?” Eren asks, his tongue leaving wet strips on Jean's collarbones.
When Jean doesn't answer quickly, because the combination of his mouth and fingers makes him absolutely hard, Eren stops with a frown and waits for his reply.
“W-we’re - ” Jean catches his breath. Cracking an eye open, he peers at Eren with blown pupils. “We’re definitely not biting each other in the movie, if that's what you're asking.”
“Why not?” Eren asks, “Levi must change the script, then.”
Jean hurls out a laugh. “Biting is exclusive to us.”
It is true.
For as long as he's known Eren, teeth have played a bigger role in their relationship. He likes burying them in Jean's skin, while his tongue savors the spaces his teeth can’t. Questioning his preferences does nothing, as Eren would shrug and say that he simply enjoys doing it. It doesn't even necessarily have to happen in sex; sometimes he would bite Jean’s neck mischievously when they're out in the dark rooms of the cinema or when they're in the parking lot and Jean's fans are outside the tinted windows of the car.
Jean is fond of it. Despite his oncoming fame, he can come back to someone willing to own him.
“Good.” Eren smirks.
And then he is nibbling on Jean's chest, this time.
Jean's toes curl, his jaw slacking open as Eren's mouth attacks him. He can't count how many seconds Eren's teeth last in a single area, as his hands are also busy running on his abdomen, spine, and pelvis. Eren's hair is sliding on his skin - ticklish, and swirls his mind at how quick, but gentle Eren services him.
When Jean opens his eyes, Eren is unzipping his tight trousers. He huffs with a hungry grin, watching his boyfriend yank his bottoms just as swiftly. It surprises him how Eren doesn't let the fabrics pool on his ankles; he must not be as impatient tonight as Jean expected, but he still chokes out a moan, when Jean rubs Eren's hard-on.
Eren returns to straddling him. It takes him a moment to admire the work he left on his partner's skin, grinning and grazing them with his bony fingers.
“Suits you,” Eren says, and Jean raises a brow as he stares at his own body.
Chuckling at the scarlet marks and glistening saliva around them, he weaves his fingers with Eren's. “Are they beautiful, baby?”
“Yeah.” Eren looks at him. “Is Hange going to scold you if they leave a mark? Will it be on camera?”
Jean furrows his brows. “They can cover it up with make-up.”
“Tell them not to.” He kisses Jean chaste on the lips, his face scowling. “I’d watch the full movie with you if you do.”
“Really?” Jean smiles, cupping Eren's cheeks. “Promise you won't cry?”
Eren rolls his eyes. “Yes.”
“Alright.” Jean hums and proceeds to kiss Eren again.
Three days later, Jean stands with his torso bare in the makeup room.
Hange pushes their glasses up on the bridge of their nose, nervously glancing at Levi.
Petra, who is scrambling to find the most powerful concealer in her kit, refuses to look at the director, too.
Jean rubs his neck. “I'm sorry, okay? Me and my boyfriend got carried away and…” he trails off. He knows whatever excuse he comes up with right now won't work.
Levi doesn't say another word, his eyes dark and tired. He just leaves the green trailer, and calls for his assistant to bring him a glass of cold water.
Jean then gazes at his reflection on the mirror. Bite marks and bruises spread all over his chest, neck, and shoulder, including the sharp lines on his back. Most of them are fading, but some are fresh from last night’s intense ordeal.
He can't say Eren deserves a scolding, though.