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When Erwin wakes up that morning, he finds that, much to his surprise, the digital clock on the nightstand reads 9:07 A.M. He should have been at work an hour and seven minutes ago, and he sits up quickly, all but throwing himself out of bed to start his morning routine. He brushes his teeth quickly, foam speckling the mirror, combs his hair rapidly, all but hops into his pants, and is still in the middle of buckling his belt when he comes downstairs to find Levi sitting at the kitchen table. He stops in his tracks.
"You're still here?" Erwin asks, confused. "Today's Tuesday, isn't it? Don't you have work, too?"
"We're playing hooky today," Levi says firmly, and an involuntary shudder runs down Erwin's spine at the tone in Levi's voice. It is one that Levi only uses for very, very special occasions, and though Erwin clocks in at almost a foot taller than Levi, he suddenly feels inexplicably, deliciously, vulnerably small. "I called you in sick, and I'm tenured already, so I'm just getting a grad student to fill in for my lectures today."
Erwin slides into a seat opposite Levi, accepting the platter of perfectly buttered toast that Levi slides towards him. Levi studies him as he crunches his way through his first toast triangle, and Erwin can't help but notice that Levi is wearing that shirt, one he's well acquainted with. A dark green V-neck, cotton soft from dozens of trips through the laundry, that shows off his collarbones, and, when Levi stands up to offer him coffee, Erwin can see that he's paired it with those jeans, tight, dark wash ones that Erwin adores for how they make Levi's legs look, long and limber, and for how they look crumpled on the bedroom floor, puddled and ebony.
Levi returns with a cup of coffee already doctored with cream and sugar, sets it down in front of Erwin with one hand while the other rests lightly on the back of Erwin's neck, sending delicious prickles across his skin.
"Eat up," Levi murmurs, his voice whispering across the shell of Erwin's ear. "I've got some plans for us today." Erwin swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. "Be a good boy." Levi's voice is tantalizing, and, Pavlovian response, Erwin obediently picks up another triangle of toast.
Levi keeps him on edge all day, a grope to his thigh when they're relaxing on the couch and catching up on half a season's worth of Hannibal, a bite to his neck when Erwin leans over to reach for the remote control. Levi leaves him guessing, leaves him flirting with sweet temptation, leaves him half-hard for hours until Erwin is quite sure he's going to go insane. If this is Levi's idea of a vacation, it's certainly a twisted one, but Erwin isn't complaining, wouldn't dare protest, not when Levi is looking at him like that.
"You're fidgeting," Levi informs him during a commercial break, an advertisement for Red Lobster playing in the background. "Is something the matter?" His tone is innocent, but Erwin can see the wicked gleam in his eyes. "Does my good boy need something?"
Erwin gasps, a flush stealing across his face as he lowers his eyes, nods, almost imperceptibly.
"Look at me." Levi's hand, small, firm, tilts Erwin's chin up to meet his gaze. "You have to use your words, you know better than that."
Erwin swallows. His skin is prickling from the inside out, spiced and heavy with want. "Yes," he whispers, his voice cracking under the palpable weight of his desire.
"What do you want?" Levi asks, saccharine sweet, cinnamon syllables sending heat flushing through Erwin's belly. Erwin's eyes wander as he wonders how to verbalize what exactly it is that he wants, what it is that he needs; he finds a bulge resting in the crotch of Levi's jeans, delightfully leaving nothing to the imagination, and he finds himself grateful that he is not the only one affected.
"I want to suck you off." His words come out in a rush, piquant, peppery, darting out into the air as though he can't say them fast enough. Levi looks amused, a smile flickering around the corners of his mouth. "Please," Erwin adds, quickly, gratified as Levi nods acquiescence.
He rolls off the couch, knees planted firmly on the hardwood, tugging Levi's knees over his shoulders as he reaches out to undo the button and zipper. His fingers are clumsy, but Levi smiles, waits patiently while Erwin fumbles with the metal for a few moments before pulling Levi out of the confines of his boxer-briefs, leaning forward to press a kiss to the rosy head.
He worships at the altar of Levi's body, sucking and kissing and pressing licks to salty sweet spicy skin. Levi hums, contentment, fingers pressed gently against Erwin's scalp, and when Erwin chances a peek up, he finds Levi absentmindedly stroking his hands through his hair, his gaze still riveted on the television, where, from the sounds of it, a particularly gory scene is playing out. Levi glances down, as if aware of the weight of Erwin's heated gaze.
"You'll have to work a bit harder than that for my full attention," he informs Erwin, but there is a tiny flush on the planes of his cheeks that gives him away. Erwin devotes himself to his task, ignoring the pulsing heat in his slacks in favor of rough sucks and humming around the head of Levi's cock. A particularly harsh swallow has Levi gasping, his knees twitching from their position over Erwin's shoulders, and Erwin laughs, vibration around aching flesh, even as he aches with imagined stimulation.
Levi is looking at him now, the plot of the episode lost completely, eyes glazed, one hand pressed firmly to the back of Erwin's head as his hips roll up lightly, languidly. Then, rougher, the weeping tip grazing the back of Erwin's throat, fucking up into the warm cradle of his mouth with choked off groans. Erwin takes it, wants it, needs the way Levi will leave him hoarse, lips swollen for ages.
Levi's hips take on a frantic, frenzied rhythm, and Erwin nearly gags, nearly chokes at the violent tattooed staccato of Levi's thrusts, but he can't think of a better way to suffocate as Levi pushes his head down, desperate, his moans trailing off into a long string of incoherent mumbling as he spills himself, salty sweet spicy, down Erwin's throat.
Levi comes down, shivering fingers through Erwin's hair, sweat in the hollow of his throat, ivory collarbones and viridian cotton, and Erwin has never felt so fortunate, to be blessed with someone as perfect as Levi.
The throb in his pants makes itself known again as Levi smiles cinnamon down at him. "Good boy," he murmurs softly, and Erwin presses his head up against Levi's stroking hands. "And good boys get prizes, now don't they?"
Erwin agrees eagerly. Too eager. Levi grins, a thumb tracing the corner of Erwin's mouth, smudged silvery and swollen.
"Have patience," he says, with the trace of a laugh in his throat at Erwin's almost offended look. "I'll take care of you after dinner. Do you think you can be good for me until then?"
Erwin nods fervently. He can, he can, he can, and he straightens up, pushing away the pulsing, prodding, almost-painful ache in his slacks as he follows Levi to the kitchen to help him with dinner.
"Thank you, Levi," he says as Levi boils water for pasta. Simple, lovely words that can in no way encompass the sheer magnitude of Erwin's gratitude. "I needed - I need this."
Levi smiles, face flushed with heat from the bubbling water and their recent activities. "I know." Simple, lovely words that, somehow, some way, say everything that Erwin needs to hear.