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The bitter, biting cold of winter infects the hearts of man and beast alike, and Erwin finds that some mornings he has to gently cradle his horse's nose in his hands to melt away the frost that coats her nostrils with a thin ivory film.
Likewise, he finds that some mornings it's hard to rouse Levi out of the comforting warmth of bed and into the chill of the morning.
Coming to bed is a different story entirely, and Levi doesn't need any coaxing to wriggle himself under downy, if slightly scratchy, comforters, pressing icy feet against Erwin's calves and jolting him out of whatever half-stupor he's already fallen into.
"This wouldn't happen if you wore more clothes to bed," Erwin grumbles half-heartedly, but tugs Levi close all the same. "You'll get sick like this." Levi's swaddled in one of Erwin's old shirts, one that already has rips irreparable across the seams of the shoulders. His legs are bare, save for a loose pair of boxer briefs that has seen better days, the elastic sagging already. The tails of the shirt flutter, scattered powder blue birds, over the milky planes of Levi's thighs as he hops into bed beside Erwin, curls up a creamy spiral of flesh and cloth.
"You like me like this." It isn't a question, but Erwin's breath catches in his throat all the same. Desire, blatant, shines like obsidian in the pools of Levi's eyes as, shivering, he rolls over, straddling Erwin's waist. Erwin's hands go to rest, gentle and familiar, on the outsides of Levi's thighs, where goosebumps have already started to form.
The frost on the windowpanes traces icy shadows over Levi's collarbones as he leans forward to press a kiss against Erwin's mouth, chilly chapped Cupid's bow feathering lightly over his lips. Erwin sighs, a stream of steam spilling from their mouths, broken seals, as they part. He reaches up to cradle Levi's face, thumb tracing the swell of Levi's cheekbone up to the delicate feathering of his eyelashes, blinking rapid against Erwin's skin. He threads his fingers through inky hair that blends into the soft confines of the night, shade returning to the shadow, and marvels at how the milky moonlight casts Levi's skin in the finest of marbles.
Levi waits, bated breath, as Erwin's fingers trace down the skittering throb of his pulse, tracing along the meandering unbroken line of his left collarbone, before pressing one panel of the shirt aside. Fingers muse carefully at where the straps of the gear have dug in just this side of too tightly - Levi enjoys the ache they leave behind, though he knows it's not something Erwin would understand - tongue clicking gently as he probes at the swollen strips of flesh, rosy beneath his fingertips. A thumb gently flicks over a dusky nipple, peaked, pebbled already in the chill of the night, and Levi shudders at the touch, a curl of heat licking its way into existence as it rolls slow and steady down his spine.
Erwin laughs, the fingers of his other hand drumming at Levi's thigh gently, reassuringly, all too aware of the power Levi entrusts him with.
His hand traces down, teasing at the swelling jut of Levi's left hip, the curve fitting perfectly into the palm of his hand. Darkness shrouds his actions, but Erwin is certain that, even blinded, he would be able to navigate his way around Levi perfectly. His thumb hooks into the sagging elastic, tugs gently, and Levi wriggles his hips, maneuvering his way out of them with a few muttered curses and a shiver as cold air meets skin.
Erwin can't see the curve of Levi's cock, but the furnace that meets the back of his hand when he moves it over is answer enough. Flushed, rosy, stiffening in Erwin's palm as he gives it a preliminary stroke, once, twice, fluid gleaming silver and frost as he brings his hand back to his mouth to taste.
"That's disgusting," Levi murmurs, but Erwin can hear the quiver in his voice, an attempt at delicacy that only suits him all too well.
It isn't something they've talked about, but Erwin knows all too well what goes on in the Underground, has known all too well even from the very first time that sex, like this, isn't new to Levi.
But for the moment, and for the foreseeable future, Levi is his exquisite porcelain doll, skin like snow and eyes like charcoal. For now, it is enough.
Levi mumbles something before shifting backwards so that he is resting between Erwin's legs, tugging down the waistband of his sleeping pants, maneuvering him out of his boxer briefs with chilly fingers that make Erwin wince. And then Levi's lips, soft, curious, gentle in their warmth, pressing little lapping kisses to flesh that is still soft, to flesh that has started to twitch with interest, to flesh that has stiffened despite the coolness of Levi's palm. Levi sighs, a laugh in his throat, as he pushes himself up, his mouth lowering onto the stiff curve of Erwin's cock, and Erwin winces, groans at the exquisite heat of Levi's throat. Levi is his soldier, his courtesan, his love and his Achilles' heel, all in one.
"Stop," he hisses, voice strangled. Levi stills, his throat fluttering around Erwin's flesh, and when Erwin looks down, he can just make out the gleam of moonlight against ebony eyes that he is sure are curved up into curled commas, laughter at the weakness he's found, at the frailty he's imposed. He pulls off, gleaming silver strands connecting the rose petals of his mouth to Erwin, before breaking delicately away.
"Too much?" he asks, and Erwin can hear the tease in his voice, raspy though it might be.
"Not enough," he murmurs, breathless, before reaching up and pulling Levi down, rolling them over with a dexterity that surprises even Levi, if the look in his charcoal eyes is anything to go by once Erwin has him pinned against the pillows.
His expression has the wide-eyed innocence of a much more naive man, and Erwin would laugh had he not seen the very same expression hundreds of times before. A silly flirtation, an attempt to be coy that goes completely wasted in the light of their history together.
He leans over to the nightstand, tugging the drawer open and rummaging around before procuring a small vial of golden oil that slicks cool across his fingers as he screws the cap off. Levi watches him with eager eyes, spreads his legs eagerly, without prompting, as Erwin reaches down to wear their bodies disappear into shadow, the tip of his index finger pressing against soft blossoming heat, pressing in, in, in and wriggling its way around until Levi squirms and whispers, half a plea, to add another.
His gorgeous, wanton love.
He has three fingers in Levi, stroking, stoking the inferno, when Levi's hips arch into his hands, a sob tearing itself from Levi's throat. "Stop!" he cries, the powder blue tails of Erwin's old shirt fluttering madly in the tempest. "Stop, please."
"Oh, too much?" Erwin asks, a lilt in his voice, as he gently extracts himself. Levi's cock is twitching between his thighs, it must be, because Levi has his hands fisted in the sheets, twisting them between his fingers, knuckles white, the way he gets whenever he's trying to bring himself back from the brink of orgasm. He leans down, presses a soft kiss to Levi's temple, where the roots of his hair are damp with heat, murmuring soft susurrus, soothing him down with sweet nothings that manage to worm their way beneath Levi's skin and stay there anyway.
"Please," Levi whispers, his voice still strangled, but his hands slowly relaxing; Erwin can see the knots he's left in the bedsheets. "Not enough." He fires Erwin's words back at him, weakly, because Erwin has already won, Erwin has unraveled, unfurled, unmade him, and he lies there, milky maiko skin waiting for completion. But Levi is certainly no apprentice, Erwin knows this all too well, but for the moment Levi is his and his alone, and that is enough.
He presses in, gritting his teeth at the molten feel of Levi stretching, accommodating around him, and Levi sighs the instant he's bottomed out, a sigh of relief, of agony, of desperate desire and maybe all three combined. His head is tilted to the side, the moonlight falling across his neck, casting the pulse of his heart rapid and staccato as Erwin begins to thrust.
His moans steam from his mouth, sobbing little breaths that Erwin knows from experience are heartbreakingly genuine; when Levi comes close to the edge, he starts crying, silver streaks down the sides of his cheeks, unbelievable ecstasy shoving him close to a truth that he doesn't necessarily want to realize. He needs this, needs Erwin as much as Erwin needs him, because Erwin is his commander, his master, his love and his Achilles' heel, all in one, even if he dares not vocalize this for fear of tempting fate.
"Erwin," he sobs, writhing beneath him, skin flushed rosy beneath Erwin's touch. "Erwin, please."
The note of desperation in his last word has Erwin reaching down, down into the shadows, to wrap a hand around stiff sticky skin, thumb stroking across the weeping slit with every thrust. Levi's breaths became jagged, ragged, and Erwin can just make out the way Levi draws the swell of his lower lip between his teeth, biting to ground himself to this world with remembered pain.
Another four thrusts undoes him, and he sobs, a choked, feverish sound that has Erwin falling in love with him all over again, as he spurts silvery streaks across Erwin's palm, spatters landing right on the edge of moonlight and darkness. Erwin winces, agonizing ecstasy, too much, too much, too much, and manages only another three strokes into Levi before he comes, hips shuddering to completion.
Levi sighs, contentment, warmth, as Erwin slips out, softening, laying down beside him.
"Warm now?" he asks, smiling at the way Levi's eyes light up as he turns to face him with a nod, Erwin's and Erwin's alone, now and for the foreseeable future, his lovely snow geisha, skin like milk and mouth like cherries. For now, it is enough.