Privacy…had always been an issue.

Well, perhaps not always. In those distant, untroubled days before the wall's fall, when they'd had space enough, and all the time in the world; that was when Eren had been free to curl around Armin under the cool shade of a tree, and drift off to the sound of his voice, only waking when Armin insisted on showing him an illustration (oh, he'd seen them a thousand times by now, but who could tire at looking at those fields of snow and sand, those oceans vast and deep and blue, blue, blue), or when Mikasa wandered over with an interesting bug she'd found.

The choked, filthy refugee camps were a far cry from those meadows. So many shivering, starving bodies; stuffed into tents or ramshackle housing with paper-thin walls. They'd been packed so tight that it was a wonder they hadn't suffocated. Even with the cramped conditions, they still froze in the winters – he, Armin, and Mikasa bundled together for warmth, for safety. For necessity. They'd all seen the soldiers roaming the shelters in the mornings, searching for huddled, frozen bodies to toss in grave carts.

He'd blinded himself with rage and purpose, through those years. He would drag Armin out of that hell, Mikasa marching beside them, and they would join the Survey Corps. Those wings would fly them away, to places unknown, places distant and untouched and just waiting to be woken from their hundred-year sleep.

Their endgame of racing through sand dunes and into the sunset would have to suffer a few roadblocks along the way, however. Finishing training was harder than anticipated – he had always known the physical training would be grueling, and the academic courses demanding, but…well. While the Training Corps scored big over the refugee camps in terms of guaranteed food and a bed to sleep in, Eren now had to deal with being a confused and horny teenager, rooming with dozens of other confused and horny teenagers, in a place patrolled by killjoy adults.

He thanked his lucky stars that Armin had insight enough to interpret his stumbled mutterings and the extended periods of time he spent staring at Armin's ass appropriately – thanked them again for Armin somehow finding something physically appealing in his weird gangly limbs and the way his voice cracked now. No points to the stars for Armin's encyclopedic knowledge of isolated broom closets and storage rooms across the training campus, nor for his exacting knowledge of the patrolling schedule and student movement patterns – no, that was all Armin himself, and it gave them more privacy than a normal pair of trainees could expect from a frantic dry-hump in an unlocked broom closet.

"Five minutes until the three o'clock mechanics class passes through," gasped Armin. Pinned against the wall, his hips squirmed in Eren's grip. "Hurry…"

Eren cursed his luck, undoing his and Armin's pants in a rush. Not even enough time to get their shirts off, he mourned distantly, as he fisted their cocks together. He let out a strangled groan, and let his head fall to Armin's shoulder, his mouth biting kisses up his neck. Armin choked out a moan and shoved his hand between them to join Eren's. If Armin kept making noises like that, god, five minutes would be more than enough. But still, if only having five minutes to gnaw on Armin's neck and grind him into a whimpering mess against the wall was his lucky stars' punishment for not giving them credit earlier, then wow, fuck off, stars. All points redacted and given to Armin forever.

Eren tightened his grip on their cocks and hoisted Armin higher on the wall, his mouth moving from neck to collarbone. Armin's voice broke on his name, and a too-enthusiastic kick of his leg sent a mop and bucket clattering to the ground. Eren's cock, compromised in its judgment by its close proximity to Armin's cock and general person, decided this was the hottest thing ever, and with an answering cry of Armin's name, Eren collapsed in a shaking heap against him, his arms drained of all ability to hold him up against the wall. Distantly, as if through a fog, he felt Armin's hand still moving to finish himself off. He gave a rich shudder at the visual that bloomed in his mind, and sucked weakly at the hollow of Armin's neck until he felt him shudder and still.

They stayed there, like that, for a few quiet moments, before Eren groaned.

"Time check…?" he asked, reluctantly.

"Still about two and a half minutes," Armin said, airily, and gave a teasing tap to Eren's thigh. "That went quicker than I'd planned."

Eren grumbled and tried to hide his flushed face against Armin's shoulder. "I wasn't the only one getting really into it. That mop can back me up."

Ceding the point, Armin cupped Eren's cheek in his hand, to steer his mouth to his; their lips fitting together soft and light. A knock on the door froze them in place.

"Three o'clock mechanics had an early release today," came Mikasa's even, matter-of-fact voice. There were several things implied by this simple statement: 'you're lucky that I was the one assigned cleaning duty; no one else here is conscientious enough to wait for you two to get your rocks off', 'you have two seconds put your clothes back on before I stop pretending to care about your personal space', and 'pick up that mop'.

Not even Armin's careful research could fully hide them from Mikasa's radar. Eren dutifully tucked them both back into their pants, and Armin leaned over to pick up the mop and set it back into its rightful place. They slunk from the broom closet, bearing the embarrassment together – it wasn't as though this was the first time Mikasa had caught them going at it, but it always killed the afterglow to know that your sister knew exactly how long you lasted. Mikasa inspected them with a critical eye; straightened Eren's askew collar, and smoothed down Armin's mussed hair. Robbed of private time, robbed of an opportunity to play with Armin's hair, Eren was given another reason to sulk.

Their sleeping quarters provided ample opportunity for quiet cuddle time, for which Eren could never truly fault them, despite their equal lack of privacy. But still, when those chaste kisses started involving teeth and tongues, when hands started wandering, when Armin's eyes looked so huge and luminous in the moonlight filtering through the windows…fuck, did he resent his bunkmates for existing. Without them, they wouldn't have to resort to Armin muffling his voice against a pillow as Eren shoved shaking hands down his pajama pants.

He wasn't sure what to expect when he joined the Survey Corps – maybe secluded tents in the wilderness, Armin warm and pliant and their bodies still thrumming with adrenaline after a long day of killing titans. Maybe rutting against each other up in a tree, heads spinning from the dizzying height and kisses both. Maybe rolling with each other in the sands while the ocean lapped at their feet…Eren would be lying if he said he hadn't considered the possibilities thoroughly, and at length.

He didn't fault his imagination for not considering the possibility of being locked in a dungeon underground, chained to his bed at night, and under the watchful eye of armed guards twenty-four hours of the day.

Thankfully, the bustle of the upcoming mission, and the new recruits from his own class, made his situation a bit more relaxed – allowed to roam during the day to help with chores and attend meetings, assigned only one guard at night. Allowed guests.

He could tell Armin was trying not to cry when he first brought them down to his…"room". He could tell Mikasa was trying not to punch a hole in the crumbling brick walls. He hadn't wanted to bring them down, to humiliate himself further, but they'd asked, they'd demanded…they'd fallen asleep like that, Armin promising even as he drifted off to sleep, head pillowed against Eren's thigh, that he'd bring down books from the library twice daily, morning and night, he'd set a schedule to it. The guard hadn't let them stay like that, of course. He'd woken them up roughly, sent Armin and Mikasa back upstairs to the barracks, hadn't even waited until they were out of sight before locking Eren back into his shackles.

But that night, even through the haze of shame and anger, he had a thought.

A thought that only one with the unbridled optimism and determination of a sexually-frustrated fifteen-year-old boy could have.

Man, if that guard wasn't there, this would be a great place to have sex in.

And so, the wheels began to turn. The guard didn't patrol, really, just sat outside his cell like a lump of hateful cockblocking potatoes, so examining the patrolling schedule was out – he'd need to get the keys off him anyway. Armin knew how to pick locks, but that would waste precious time that could be better spent ripping his clothes off. He thought and thought, mind driven with purpose.

It was the fruition of these plans that led to him standing outside the office to Hanji's lab, clutching a lumpy cloth bundle. He carefully prodded his gums with his tongue as he knocked at the door.

"Come in! Don't mind the smell, it's just ammonia!"

Hanji greeted him at the door, and guided him to the nearest set of chairs that weren't covered in books, papers, and suspicious stains.

"Pleasure as always to see you, Eren. What can I do you for today?"

Eren thunked the cloth bundle onto the small table between them without a word. Hanji, a slave to curiosity, slowly peeped inside. Her eyes went wide and shining at the contents.

"A down payment," Eren explained. "You'll have that and more if we can reach a deal."

Hanji scooped a handful of teeth out of the bag with trembling hands. Her eyes flickered briefly to Eren. "Keep talking."

Encouraged, Eren wet his lips, and continued. It'd taken him four days to pry all those teeth out of his mouth, and he was still a bit sore, even after they'd grown back.

"A sack of teeth and two limbs of your choice. You'll get that if you can get the guard away from my cell and make sure I can have a – uh, a visitor. For the full night."

Dissatisfied with the small space that the table provided, Hanji had spread the contents of the bag across the floor, and was sifting through the teeth with her hands, mumbling excitedly. She stared at Eren with wild, calculating eyes.

"…a hunk of your hair. When in titan form. At least a bale of hay's worth."

Keep cool. Keep cool. Don't act desperate or the deal will fall through. The fate of your and Armin's sex life depends on this. If you can seal this, who knows – maybe it'll open the doors for future transactions, involving fewer body parts.

"Guarantee that me and Arm—um, my visitor, will have a night's worth of total privacy."

Hanji flashed him something that was less a smile than it was her showing her teeth. "I have my ways," she cooed, carefully scooping her payment back into the bag. "Expect results within the next three days. And have the rest of the payment on my desk within the week."

Eren nodded, and stuck out one only barely-trembling hand to shake on the deal. Hanji scrambled over to it, and pressed her face into the palm, gently whispering a single word into the flesh: "soon." Suppose that meant the right arm was part of the two-limb deal, Eren thought, trying not to run away screaming. He'd have to find a hacksaw in the storage rooms. And maybe some whiskey.

Hanji kept to her word. Exactly two nights after their deal, right after Eren had been locked in for the night, Eren was half into his sleeping trousers when his ears caught the sounds of screaming and cackling from the floors above. Blind panic surged through his veins – titans? Here, now? No, they were still in the walls, they were safe – another soldier burst through the dungeon door.

"Upstairs! Now!"

The guard outside Eren's room blinked his eyes sleepily. "Huh? I'm on guard duty for the kid, what – "

"Squad Leader Hanji got that damn contraption of hers working! That – shit, whatever she calls it, 'cloning machine'. God, she's everywhere now; they've taken the captain hostage in the tower and are dangling dirty socks in his face."

The guard processed this information for a long, few seconds, before a grin split his face.

"…that sounds fucking hysterical."

The soldier crowed with laughter. "I know, right!? Come on, once you get tired of watching that, a few of them broke into the wine cellar and are throwing a party in the mess hall…"

Eren watched them race out of the room. He felt a little left out of the party, but if his predictions were correct, he shortly would not care. He perched on the edge of his bed, one leg jiggling impatiently, as he hopefully watched the dungeon door.

Soon enough, the door creaked open, and a dear golden head peeped through, scanning for interlopers. Eren felt a smile bloom across his face, and Armin's name floated from his mouth unbidden.

"I got woken up by Squad Leader Hanji – two of them, actually. They handed me your cell key and told me to, and I quote, 'go get my friggidy-frigg on'." Armin shook his head and unlocked the cell door. "Does this have anything to do with me catching you yanking out your teeth with pliers the other day, or are we just having a peculiar week?"

"Yes," Eren breathed, rising from his bed to meet Armin. Or, at least, trying to – he'd forgotten about the wrist shackle securing him to the frame. Damn it.

"Sit down," Armin said softly, setting a bag down on the bed next to him. Eren dutifully obeyed, and was treated to the sight of Armin drawing his lockpick from his hair and setting to work. "The keys the Hanjis gave me only had the door key on them, and I wasn't sure if you still were being guarded down here. Didn't want to risk having this confiscated."

Eren pressed a kiss to the crown of his golden head. He'd be dead a thousand times over without that brain of his. Dead a thousand times, and blueballed twice that. The shackles came loose, and Armin smiled up at him. He gave Eren's bare chest a shy poke.

"Were you expecting me, or am I just lucky?"

Eren gave his answer by dragging Armin into his lap, and falling backward onto the bed. Fuck, he didn't even know where to start – a bed, and privacy, and an armful of wriggling, giggling blonde. Stripping him naked and throwing him down to suck him dry sounded good, but so did rubbing off against each other, and so did stripping him down to just, to just look at him, and…and…

Eren tore his gaze from Armin's face to the bag that he had brought in with him. He swallowed hard.

"What's in the bag?" Eren asked.

Armin smiled shyly, his hair falling into his eyes. "…you want to see?"

Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, did he want to see. "Yeah. Yeah," Eren croaked.

Armin leaned down to press his lips to Eren's eyelids, gently. "Close your eyes," he whispered. "Don't open them until I tell you."

Eren nodded frantically, and covered his face with his hands for good measure. The pressure of Armin's body on him lifted, and the rustle of clothing being removed made his cock throb in his pants. Eren grit his teeth and pressed his hands harder against his face. He was a soldier. He could follow orders.

"Okay," Armin said, finally. "Open them."

Eren tore his hands from his face. He didn't know who to credit for the sight in front of him. Yellow high-heels to compliment the black tights on his long, slender legs, a skirt so short that it didn't even cover his ass, a vest cut to flatter the line of his hips and chest. Tiny black bunny ears perched atop Armin's head to complete the ensemble. Eren wanted to yank them off with his teeth.

"I," Eren started, his mouth too dry to continue.

"Yes?" Armin asked, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. His heels clicked against the stone floor.

He stopped in front of Eren, raising one tuxedo-cuffed hand to smooth through Eren's hair. Eren's breath shuddered out, and he tried to still the shaking of his hands by grasping Armin's hips. Upon closer inspection, the tights were thigh-highs, and attached to a garter belt underneath the ensemble. The panties were separate from the main minidress, and could be removed entirely – good, that was very good. Eren nearly came on the spot at the thought of yanking off those panties and fucking Armin into the mattress while he was still in that outfit; his heels digging into Eren's legs and sides, skirt pushed up around his hips. They'd never had the space or time alone to be in each other before, and fuck, if this wouldn't make a memorable night to do it…

Armin gave his hair a tug, and climbed back on top of him; maneuvering them both so they were fully on the bed. Armin straddled his hips and smoothed a hand down his own outfit, considering.

"Do you mind if I keep this on, at least for a bit? I'm pretty fond of it."

"No," Eren's voice cracked out.

Armin arched an eyebrow. "'No'? 'No', what?"

It was abundantly clear that Armin knew exactly what Eren had meant. Eren groaned and grasped at Armin's thighs to anchor him.

"N-no, I don't mind, keep it on…"

Armin took Eren's chin between thumb and forefinger, made him meet his gaze.

"I don't want to ruin our night together if you're just humoring me. Tell me. Do I look good in this?"

Eren swallowed hard. "Yes."

Armin leaned in closer, still keeping Eren's gaze focused on him. "Do you want to fuck me in it?"

Eren felt as if the breath in him had been punched out of his lungs. After a few moments, he finally had the presence of mind to answer. "Yes."

Armin tilted his head to the side, thoughtfully. "I see. Do you want me to fuck you in it?"

Oh, fuck. Eren's vision swam, his fingers dug deep into Armin's hips. "…yes, yes."

There was that sweet smile again, as if Armin hadn't just offered to fuck him senseless in high heels and bunny ears. "I've been doing some reading; I'll do my very best. Would you help me with these garters?"

Eren gasped out the breath he'd been holding, and moved his hands under Armin's skirt to unfasten the garters. The garters popped loose, one by one, and then Armin was shimmying the panties down his thighs. Eren let out an unintelligible curse and lurched forward to shove Armin's skirt up and bury his face in his crotch. Armin murmured encouragingly, ran his fingers through Eren's hair and tugged as Eren lapped hungrily at his cock.

"Good," he sighed. He moved his hips just slightly, his cock sliding deeper into Eren's mouth. "Missed you."

Eren let out an answering moan. Missed you. Missed your cock and your thighs and your hips. Missed the curve of your back under my hands. Missed the way your face looks cupped between my palms just after we've kissed. Missed you, missed you. If I have to yank out all my teeth and hack off my arms just to get another night alone with you in this dank, miserable cell, I'd do it again, I'd do it a thousand times.

Armin's thumb traced the curve of Eren's lips around his cock. "Eren," he breathed. "Take off your pants, and spread your legs for me."

Eren pulled off Armin's cock with a slurp, and hurriedly shucked his pants while Armin dug around in his bag. He came back with a bottle of oil and slick fingers, and nestled between Eren's legs comfortably.

"Relax," he said against Eren's lips, one hand smoothing over his shoulder, the other – the other, tracing down the underside of his cock and behind his balls. One finger pressed into him, slowly. "Have you ever done this to yourself before?"

"No," Eren answered, honestly. Most of his experience on the subject was snippets of conversations from other soldiers and students, and – well, most of his fantasies on the subject involved him doing it to Armin. But fuck, fuck. Eren clenched his fists in the sheets and wriggled his hips experimentally. If it felt this good, he would amend his position.

"That's too bad. I have," Armin continued. He pressed another finger into Eren. "Would you like me to tell you about it?"

"Yes, fuck, Armin, please," Eren begged.

"I first heard about it back when we were in training," Armin began. "It seemed so odd, back then. Seemed like it would be painful. But, then I considered it a bit more – that's where the prostate is, after all. That's what this is, here—" Armin deliberately brushed against something inside of Eren, and fuck, fuck, he was seeing stars. Armin laughed, lightly. "I'm sure I've made my point there. So, one night, after you'd kissed me goodnight, I squirmed out of your arms, took the oil we use to treat our harnesses, and fucked myself with my fingers. I got so loud, I don't know how you didn't wake up. I wish you would have."

Eren hadn't the slightest idea how he hadn't, and cursed his past self for it. It was becoming harder and harder to be negative about anything in the current situation, however.

"Eren," Armin sighed, his hips shifting, his other hand drifting to stroke his own cock. "I'm going to try and add a third finger. Is that alright?"

Eren gave a strangled sob as an answer, his legs splaying wider. He felt tears prickle at the sides of his eyes – shit, was he glad that Armin was used to him crying during sex. If Armin stopped now, he'd fucking explode.

"Good," Armin whispered. "Good. Good?"

"Armin…" Eren reached out blindly, grabbed a handful of blonde hair and yanked him down for a kiss. "Armin, please, I want your cock, please…"

Armin gave him a gentle, chaste kiss on the forehead as he pulled out his fingers, and scooted his hips into position. "Tell me how it feels, Eren."

Fucking amazing was how it felt. His head fell back against the pillow as Armin slowly pushed inside, his soft breath against his face, shivering on every exhale. When his hips were resting against Eren's ass, Armin rested his forehead against Eren's collarbone, trying to compose himself. One bunny ear flopped in Eren's face, and Eren wanted to bite it.

After a few agonizingly long moments, Eren gave another desperate groan. He felt tears beginning to leak down his cheeks. Armin kissed the trails away, and gave a low note of concern.

"Good, it feels good, Armin, please move, I'm going to die," Eren babbled, the words tripping over his tongue.

Armin drew back, and gave a slow, careful thrust. His eyes watched Eren's face, searching, calculating. He must have liked what he saw – Eren certainly liked what he felt, and said so with incoherent cursing – and began to set a rhythm.

"Fu-hu-hu-huck," wailed Eren, grasping the metal headboard of the bed with one hand and slamming the other in a fist against the bed. Armin's hips snapped into him in quick, eager staccato, and one delicate hand moved to wrap around his cock. The other hand gently unfurled his fist, and laced their fingers together; resting their hands beside Eren's head.

It was too much, too little – Armin was over him and around him and in him so hard and hot, and even stuffed full to overflowing, Eren wanted more, wanted to take Armin inside of him warm and whole so he would never leave. Eren turned his head to the side, grabbed at Armin's thumb with lips and teeth, sucking and whimpering. Armin's hand twisted around the head of his cock, his thumb dragging up the underside, and fuck, he was done. His whole body stiffened, and he came with a hoarse scream. Distantly, he heard Armin's choked whimper, and felt his cock throb inside of him. Felt him pull out, felt him flop down beside him, exhausted.

Eren rolled over to face him, wincing only a little as he did so. He looked him over – one of his stockings had fallen down to his knee, exposing a soft, pale thigh. Eren stroked the skin there with the back of his hand, over and over, too fond to make sense of it. Armin made a tiny, frustrated noise, and nipped at the skin of Eren's throat.

"You got your come on my dress."

"Sorry," Eren murmured, sliding an arm under Armin's waist to draw him close. He rested his chin atop Armin's head, eyes drifting shut. "Help you wash it."

"Tired?"

"Mm."

"The Hanjis have the place on lockdown. We've got the whole night to ourselves."

Eren's eyes drifted open again. As usual, Armin made the most logical point. He didn't pull out all his teeth and cut off an arm so he could only get his rocks off once. Armin's tongue darted out to lick a stripe up Eren's neck.

"I've got bunny ears for you, too."