Archive of Our Own

The sun is shining. Levi needs to scene.

The birds are singing. Levi needs to scene. 

The air is fresh, like the kind that they get outside the walls. Levi needs to scene. 

Erwin just brewed him a fresh cup of tea, the laundry is sweet-smelling and crisp, the office is clean, and Levi still needs to scene. 

Erwin observes him carefully over the rim of his fine-china cup, calculating. It’s the little things that he’s learned about the other man, the ticks and tells in his behavior that speak of something burning him inside, burrowing underneath his skin and roiling, turbulent in his discomfort. He’s very observant, particularly in the ways of Levi. He’s attuned to him, after so many months together.

And Levi to him as well. 

“God,” Levi sinks down in his chair with a groan, kicking off his boots so that he can lay his ankles down on the lip of Erwin’s thick mahogany desk and sigh, stretching out his legs. There’s a stamped imprint of the gear strap in the middle of his sole. “How is it that we can do almost nothing all day and still be tired?”

A low chuckle slips past Erwin’s lips inadvertently. Levi glares at him over the rim of his own cup, mock offended. Erwin hasn’t genuinely offended him in months, and even that time was an accident. Levi’s very particular about his cleaning habits. 

“You and I have very different definitions of nothing, I fear.” 

Levi sighs, his nostrils briefly flaring as Erwin picks up one pale foot and slides his hands over the ankle, barely up to the swell of his calf, the hardness of his shin. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Levi’s muscles flex under Erwin’s fingers as he digs them in, kneading out the tension and stiff knots. “Didn’t realize you had a thing for feet,” he says dryly. 

Erwin chuckles again. “I don’t, I assure you.” He’s pressing the soft skin behind Levi’s knee now, pressing his fingers in just to see how Levi twitches reflexively. “Careful, or you’re going to kick me.” 

Levi snorts, and aims a kick at Erwin’s head. It’s not reflexive in the slightest, but it is easy to dodge, deadly but half-hearted. 

Erwin catches Levi’s dangerous foot with ease, regards it in his hand. “Now, boy,” Levi’s lips twist at the title, his thighs shifting a bit. Erwin knows what that one simple word does to him, the way it makes him stir with interest below the belt. It’s practically a conditioned response at this point, the way Levi’s ears flush light pink and his pouty lips twist, displeased with the weakness of his own body. 

But of course, it’s not a weakness. It’s a strength, a beautiful, marvelous strength, and a beautiful, invaluable action, to trust Erwin with his body like that. To trust him with his body, his psyche, all his jumbled thoughts and bonds and to allow Erwin to do with them as he pleases. 

It’s an honor, and it’s the greatest gift he could ever hope to receive. To be with Levi. 

Erwin sometimes thinks of them as coiling serpents of smoke, dancing effortlessly through space with each other before they twine together, so thoroughly that they end and begin at once.

“What’s with the face you’re pulling?” Levi asks him, cocking a slim eyebrow. He’s smirking, a bit too cocky and full for Erwin’s taste. A while without a scene will do that to him, it’ll cloud his better sense and inflate his ego, leaving Erwin to ground and stabilize him like he needs. Like he wants. Like he craves. “Shit your pants?” 

Erwin smiles at him. It’s what Levi calls his “creepy smile”, one that promises dark, sweet danger, so intense that it’ll make even the strongest man beg for mercy. 

Luckily, he just happens to have the strongest man under his hand. 

Levi’s cocky smirk slips slowly off his face. 

Erwin’s smile widens. 

***

Levi looks wonderful in chains. 

It’s an objective fact that anyone does, really. Take any random man off the street and tie him up as lovingly and painstakingly as Erwin did to Levi, wrap him up in gleaming metal and carefully placed links, spend so much time, effort, and energy into making him look and feel good… It’d be incredible. 

Levi is knelt on the floor, breathing low, head steady. His coal-black bangs fall into his face, obscuring his delicate features. 

The inky strands fan out slightly with a deep sigh that Levi takes, his rib cage expanding, contracting. It makes the chains draped over his back and wrapped around his arms and shoulders rattle, letting out their musical little chimes. Erwin smiles. 

The leather keeper of the crop whistles smoothly through the air; Levi flinches as it stops just short of a jut of bone at the junction between neck and shoulders, snapping back teasingly. Oh, the crop, the wonderful crop— Erwin’s a master with it. 

Levi is beautiful as Erwin stalks round him in a circle, letting the fine leather tip of the stockwhip stashed in the thigh strap of his gear trail across the floor with a faint hiss. It’s a wonderfully crafted instrument, really— almost a meter of braided leather that tapers down as it goes until the end is almost whisper thin, culminating in a lovely, gorgeous, feathery little strip of leather. It’s the softest thing Erwin owns— aside from Levi. Surely the inside of him counts, right? 

“Look up at me.” 

The smaller man’s breathing is barely louder than the hiss of the whip was, shaking with anticipation as he lifts his eyes, lids set low as he looks up at Erwin. His eyelashes fan straight, casting the tops of his cheeks in soft shadows, delicate and unassuming— as close as Levi can get to so. 

Of course, he’s not delicate, and he’s not unassuming— he’s not any of those things, not outside of this room. Most wouldn’t even classify him as conventionally beautiful, really, as dour and sharp as he tends to be, sullen even in the best of situations.

Most people (that Erwin encounters) tend to be fools, misguided, dangerous— or any combination of the above. 

Erwin is not most. Neither is Levi. 

And Levi, in this room, in this time, in this place with Erwin, this place that exists everywhere and nowhere and in his own mind and between the two of them— he’s all of those things, he’s all of those things and more, he’s everything— he’s everything to Erwin. He’s sublime. Erwin makes him sublime. 

God, how Erwin loves this man!

“What are you thinking of?” Erwin stoops down to ask, caressing Levi’s smooth cheek with a leather-gloved hand, the freshly-shaven skin catching ever so slightly as Erwin strokes. Levi takes his time to prepare for their scenes, now; it’s no longer a spur of the moment, spark of action and potential and anger between the two of them, like the fateful scene that collided them together. It’s a slow-burning flame, hot as a forge and just as dangerous as a roaring blaze. 

Erwin prepares by scrubbing the room top to bottom, checking his gear, checking himself; practicing with his instruments to make sure that his movements are smooth and his muscle memory is accurate, going for a walk to ground himself in nature, and finally, bringing himself to a slow completion by his hand, just so he can ensure a lasting performance later. Normal things. 

Levi prepares by cleaning himself top to bottom, inside and out, having a nice stretching session outside on the grass (where Erwin inevitably meanders by on his walk), and bursting in to redo Erwin’s cleaning of the room, because apparently, Erwin can’t do it right. And then, inevitably sulking in the corner with his arms crossed as Erwin tells him that he can’t help with the final phase of Erwin’s own preparations, don’t be greedy. 

Less normal things, but then again, that’s Levi. Erwin wouldn’t change their routine for the world. 

He also shaves right before their scenes. Erwin’s walked in on it before, it’s quite the process. He enjoys leaning on the doorframe and watching, the cramped bathroom still muggy with steam as Levi squints into the fog-blurry mirror and pulls his lathered skin taut, carefully scraping the edge of a trusted razor over the skin. Levi doesn’t grow much stubble anyway, but he still likes to do it. Says it grounds him. 

And Erwin likes to watch, he likes to stand and observe Levi’s smooth movements, how self-assured and confident he is in his own body— not a moment of hesitation between actions, even in the smallest of things. 

He rarely hesitates, and he doesn’t hesitate now, letting his lips part so that Erwin can slip his gloved thumb between them, Levi’s breath hot against the cool leather. He doesn’t suck, not yet— he hasn’t been told to, and Erwin repeats his question in a low murmur. 

“What are you thinking of?” 

“Mmm.” Levi’s eyes aren’t hazy yet, but they are ever so slightly deviated from the sharp, flighty focus that they so often bear. “‘Bout nothing, really.” 

“Really?” 

“Mmm.” 

God, Levi has the potential to be so soft, so warm and loose when he lets himself be, so sweet and relaxed that it almost pains Erwin to (briefly) pull that softness away from him. 

Levi jerks when the crop whistles— it arcs around Levi’s body with perfect coordination through the air, landing smartly right above the swell of his ass. Erwin has good aim; it leaves a neat red mark between the dimples of his very lower back. 

“Motherfucker—” Levi starts to spit, but he’s silenced by Erwin’s hand, fingers gripping his bony chin with almost— almost enough strength to leave bruises. There’s times that Erwin would love to leave lasting marks over Levi’s fair cheeks, but others are nosy. They tend to get the wrong idea, especially when dealing with their type. 

But, it is quite fun to see Levi— unflinching, unflappable Captain Levi give the most minute of flinches when Erwin taps the crop against his cheekbone, lighter than a kiss. He’s so reactive, responsive in a way that he isn’t in any way other than when he’s with Erwin. It’s a manifestation of his trust in Erwin, one that makes his heart positively swell even as he indicates with a sharp nod of his chin toward Levi’s kneeling figure. 

“Get up.” 

A normal man would struggle getting to his feet— but that’s a normal man. Levi is Levi. 

Levi rises smoothly, the thick muscles of his thighs and core working and flexing to keep him level without the use of his arms, his shoulders pulled beautifully back. Erwin didn’t even tie the chains that tightly— that’s the beauty of it. A normal man— not even Levi— a normal man could shake them off with ease. 

Levi is restrained only because he wants to be. 

Levi is keeping his chest out and his shoulders back, his spine arched to present his pretty little nipples for Erwin to clamp even though it makes him screw up his eyes and whine through grit teeth— because he wants to be. Because he wants to be good. 

He wants to be good for Erwin. 

“Now then,” Levi hisses through his teeth when Erwin winds a finger around the chain and tugs lightly, teasing the pinched bud. “Tell me why we’re here.” 

“Because you’re a deranged sadist,” Levi pants out, unable to resist a good moment of snark. 

“The pot, the kettle,” Erwin responds, and Levi’s hitching breath when Erwin continues his ministrations speaks louder than denials or agreements ever could. 

“A-ah—”

“Because,” really, it’s Levi’s own fault for having such sensitive, pretty pink nipples. They’re irresistible, so tender that they’re a bit impractical for such an imposing man like Levi to bear. It’s hard to be intimidating when your nipples are so pretty and pink— Levi’s glower crumbles as quick as it emerges when Erwin takes one between his fingers and tweaks it, teasing the tip with his nail. “Because one of us has been keeping something from the other.”

Levi stays silent, the twist of his lips distinctly mutinous as he turns his cheek away from Erwin, refusing to look him in the eye. 

“Oh,” Erwin sighs like it pains him, even when there’s little else but sick delight curling in the depths of his belly, warm through his chest and groin. “Oh, have you?” 

Levi’s entire chest is rosy, from where his slender neck meets his shoulders down to his belly, where his modest cock is hardening between thick thighs, each pinch that Erwin bestows upon him coaxing a matching twitch out of it. The clamps are connected by chains— it’s like there’s a matching chain leading from them down to Levi’s cock, jerking on it every time Erwin tugs or twists or pinches. Fascinating. 

Erwin feels rather like a scientist, playing with his little experiment. It’s the scientific method, he knows this; to repeat an experiment over and over again, until one can confirm that the results they find are consistent, reliable, and satisfactory. Perhaps that’s what draws them together to do scene after scene— it’s their own experiment, their own confirmation after confirmation of what they already know. They’re meant for each other. 

They twine together, so thoroughly that they end and begin at once, Erwin muses again, drawing his hands up and down Levi’s presented skin, possessive and claiming. Erwin is Levi’s. Levi is Erwin’s. 

He’s his master, his liege, his china doll, his love, his toy— he’s Erwin’s. 

Erwin wants what’s his to be treated well. 

Granted, it’s a bit hard to dole out punishment when the one mistreating Erwin’s plaything is the plaything himself. Or, perhaps it’s easier. Erwin will have to ponder the question later, later when he doesn’t have the given plaything in his hands, tense and thrumming with anticipation. 

“What have you been keeping from me, Levi?” 

Levi shivers at the use of his given name. If Erwin’s feeling stern, he’ll call him boy; if he’s feeling saccharine-sweet, he’ll call him love; if he’s feeling smug, he’ll call him Captain. Levi is a treat. 

Quite literally, thinks Erwin as Levi takes his time responding, working his jaw from side to side. He’s going to get a sore mouth if he keeps doing that, and not for fun reasons. 

Levi finally responds, although he doesn’t seem too happy about it. Too bad, Erwin thinks, merciless. He’ll pry Levi’s teeth apart and shove introspection down his throat if needed. 

“Stress.” 

“Very specific,” Erwin says dryly, hands pausing on Levi’s trim waist. If he really, really squeezes— to the point of pain, both for Levi and for the thin membrane between his thumb and pointer finger— he can just barely touch his middle fingers together, encapsulating Levi’s waist between his hands. Levi’s a small man. Erwin has large hands. A perfect match, really. 

“What more do you want?” Levi snaps, purposefully obtuse. This is his least favorite part— not surprising, if it was his favorite part, Erwin would be concerned; when Erwin pries him apart and picks apart his jumbled brain. If Levi had his way with things, they would never have these chats again, but Erwin’s a good dom. He won’t let his precious sub into a scene if they don’t face the problem head-on, so the session can do what it’s meant to do: provide them the release that they both crave and want so deeply. 

But, god, if it isn’t like giving medicine to a cat! Erwin’s sure that if his arm was in reach, Levi would try to bite. 

“I want,” Levi almost yowls when Erwin yanks on his chain— literally— leaving Levi panting as the pain washes over him in a hot wave. “I want to know why you were so tense you could snap this past week. I want to know why this morning in my office looked like it was the first time you’ve let yourself rest. Didn’t you say it yourself? We were doing nothing. We were doing nothing, yet you’ve been wound tight the whole week.” 

Levi’s mumble is so silent that Erwin almost misses it. “None of your business.” 

“ And,” Erwin puts his lips right by Levi’s ear, so he can feel his hot breath and the way he bites down on each word, sharp and curt. “I want to know why you’ve been violating our agreement.” 

Checkmate. He’s got Levi pinned. Levi’s entitled to his own privacy— he is, at the end of the day, an autonomous man, their power exchange isn’t total— but they have their own rules, between the two of them. 

Separation of work and life. The dom is not the Captain’s Commander, and the sub is not the Commander’s Captain. Levi will already follow him to the edge of the world and back; Erwin doesn’t need to abuse his power for that. 

Either one of them can call a stop whenever needed, for whatever reason. They just have to utter a single word— red, and the scene will stop right there and then, no questions asked. Yellow, if they’re feeling unsure and would like a pause. Surprisingly, Levi yellow’s more often than Erwin would expect, given his rather… intense disposition, for lack of better words. It makes Erwin’s heart swell whenever the smaller man does, fill up and nearly burst with the knowledge that he’s created a space safe and secure enough that Levi feels comfortable voicing his concerns, and feels comfortable enough for Erwin to reassure them. It’s heartwarming, plain and simple. 

Full disclosure about the things neither of them like to talk about, like feelings, mental state… the list goes on. Communication. 

Ah, there, there’s where Erwin and Levi both falter. 

Although, still, Levi tends to stray from their rule more so than Erwin does. He’s not used to healthy boundaries. He’s not used to boundaries, period. He’s not used to boundaries or bounds, for living for another person— with another person, not used to loving and feeling with his whole heart, body, and soul. 

That’s ok. Erwin isn’t, either. They navigate it together. 

And these sessions— these sessions are the highlight of their navigation. 

Levi grits his teeth, the bolt of his jaw tense against Erwin’s lips. He’s once again speaking too quietly for Erwin to hear well. 

“Louder, boy.” 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“I didn’t know you could feel embarrassment.” Erwin’s seen all of Levi, inside and out. Quite literally. He’s plied Levi apart on his fingers and taken a look at his fragile heart, poked and prodded though his brain and body. 

Levi’s ears are hot enough to burn, pink and glowing when Erwin noses at them, just barely refraining from a nibble or two. “I felt…” Erwin stays silent, prompting Levi on with sweeping caresses of his sides and ribs, keeping the skin sensitive and electrified with nerves. “Ignored.” 

“You felt ignored.” 

“I told you it was stupid, alright?” Levi snaps, but Erwin lets this one go, feeling how Levi’s very bones pulse with tension. He’s not punishing Levi for a slip of the tongue— he’s not punishing Levi at all, actually. He’s maintaining him, grounding him. “You were doing your work all week, and I couldn’t find the time to go up to your office because I had so much shit to do that ultimately counted for nothing, because of course it didn’t, and that’s stupid, that’s so fucking stupid, and I—” Levi cuts himself off, eyes screwing shut. Erwin barely avoids a rather nasty bruise to the head as Levi suddenly twists his head, almost violent in how he buries it into the strong muscle between Erwin’s neck and his shoulder, hiding his face. 

“Ah.” Erwin realizes. “Because I didn’t seek you out.” 

Levi nods, eyes pressed into Erwin’s skin and his brows furrowed, tense and knotted against solid muscle. Oh, poor thing— poor boy. He can be rather sensitive, even though he doesn’t want to admit it. He’s sensitive— for Erwin. 

Erwin imagines that to be a product of his rather tumultuous (now, isn’t that a disgustingly diplomatic way of putting it) upbringing. Ties need to be cut in a second if needed, connections need to be snapped at the slightest hint of offoffdangeroffwrong— that Levi can’t handle, that is. It’s saying a lot. Levi’s not used to sticking out for one person, even with his loyal nature. He’s not used to there being only one man— only one man for him. 

“Oh, Levi,” Erwin murmurs, hand snaking up Levi’s chest to hold his jaw, palm secure against his neck so that Levi stops hiding his face, breathing shaky with sighs. Levi’s lashes flutter, throat in Erwin’s grip— he naturally bears his throat, just like that. Just like that. “Thank you for telling me.”

Levi doesn’t cry easily, but Erwin imagines he wants to, head tipped back towards the ceiling and a firm grip on his neck, his eyes closed and his spine arched. Baring his soul, submissive and sensitive, like leaves that furl closed at the brush of a fingertip. “You’re not mad?”

“For your feelings? No, never.” 

A sigh trembles past Levi’s lips, his lungs contracting in tiny increments of relief, each one pushing more air out of his scarred chest, tasting of oh, thank god. Thank you. 

“For the fact that you let it fester in your mind for days without communicating like we agreed?” Erwin lets the yes go unspoken but heavy, weighing on broad shoulders. “I think you’re due for some reminders, darling.” 

Levi shivers. 

***

Erwin takes a moment to lean back and admire his handiwork; Levi’s cock and balls are trussed up tight, the thin cords of Erwin’s bolo tie wrapped round and round his base while the cold, heavy stone nestles behind his sac. Erwin chuckles, pressing the smooth round of it up into Levi’s perineum to hear him gasp. 

“Fuck,” Levi’s voice quavers as Erwin plays, experimenting with the pressure on his swollen sweet spot. Erwin gives Levi’s cock a cursory stroke on his way— it’s so full it leaks, weeping and stiff in his hand. 

“You like that?” Erwin chilled the stone in some ice especially for this, left it sitting in a glass on his desk in preparation for some nice play that would leave Levi shaking, trying to squirm both away yet into it— the terrible, biting chill, the wonderful pressure. 

Actually— it doesn’t matter if Levi quite likes it or not. Erwin does, and that’s enough. 

“B-bastard,” Levi bites out, teeth chattering as he tries to shrivel away from the cold, but can’t when Erwin’s fist is so warm and tight over his leaking cockhead, leisurely squeezing and massaging it. Levi’s lissome hips twitch, trapped. 

Erwin has to smile to himself, the sound of his fist working over Levi positively obscene. There’s enough oil to drown them both in, and Levi’s not helping matters, dripping a few sporadic drops of torturous arousal every few seconds, sticky and warm in Erwin’s hand. God, if Levi had different anatomy— Erwin could actually drown himself between Levi’s legs, and he would do so happily.

As such, he’s quite content with what Levi does have between his legs, and how beautifully responsive he is when Erwin busies himself with suckling on his tender, nerve-laden flesh until he comes or cries. 

Or both. Levi adores overstimulation, but oh, how he weeps! It’s involuntary, how weakly Levi will thrash amidst the sheets and how his voice will crack, nails clawing his own skin and pulling at his own hair as Erwin drives him half mad, tonging at his come-wet cock. Levi doesn’t even have to be hard, Erwin will take him into his mouth all the same, assaulting and abusing the delicate nerves enough to make Levi sing. 

“Gonna play with my dick all day, or are you gonna get on and fuck me before your dick falls off?” 

Levi should really be kinder to the man who has a whip in his belt and his family jewels in his hands— but that’s Levi. He never learns. 

Actually, he does learn. He just enjoys pushing Erwin’s buttons, forcing him to his limits again and again. He’s playing with fire, and Erwin knows that he relishes in the burn.  

Masochist, Erwin thinks, too fond of Levi for his own good. Little brat. 

Levi blushes red from tip to toe as Erwin takes him by his jutting cock and tugs him over to the far wall. 

“Fuck—” he tries to squirm out of it, humiliation staining his cheeks even though there’s nobody there to see it but Erwin, to see how submissive and obedient the fearsome Captain of Special Operations can be for Commander Erwin, hands chained behind his back, naked and flushed pink with his pretty nipples clamped, the Commander’s honorable bolo tie nudging against his balls with every step he takes. Being led to the hooks decorating the wall by his cock, like a good boy. Like a good toy. 

“Behave.” Levi stills his protesting, breath shallowing as Erwin squeezes, precome running over his knuckles. 

Erwin doesn’t mean anything by it— it’s nothing good, it’s nothing bad, it’s just a fact: Levi is small and neat enough that Erwin’s fist can envelop him completely, perfectly molded into his hand. All of him is small and neat, and all Erwin yearns for is to make him messy. Make him broken. Make him his, make him possessed and owned and cherished. 

That’s all Levi wants, too, it’s why he allows Erwin to lead him over to the wall and rechain his hands above his head, the thick metal links winding around his arms and biceps, strong and straining against the firm muscle. 

His wrists are encased in thick manacles, brutal metal standing stark against pale flesh and flexed tendons, truly a menacing sight. The interior of them is lined with soft, plush velvet, almost achingly smooth and gentle against Levi’s skin. Erwin will never again make the mistake of tying Levi up in something that can’t truly hold him. Levi deserves at least that, he deserves to feel safe and secure as he’s brought to the edge of agony and ecstasy and back. He deserves the world, he deserves the world from Erwin. 

Erwin will gladly lay the world at Levi’s feet, but only when Levi stops being such a little fucking brat. 

“Should have known you were a pervert right from the start, Commander,” Levi spits, so delightfully cocky from someone who just earned himself a terrific punishment. “It’s written all over your smug face.”

Erwin grins broadly as he raises his arm. “Luckily, Captain, I knew you were a— how did you say it earlier? A deranged masochist right from the beginning.” 

And he starts. 

Oh, Levi… Levi is wonderful. Erwin doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being amazed by this man in front of him, this sublime being that lets all his inhibitions go a split second before the lash connects with his skin, all his tension melting away from his body before it comes back in one fell, painful swoop, drawing a brutal yell from Levi’s lips. 

“Fuck!” 

“Quiet,” Erwin warns, lifting Levi’s chin with the butt of the whip. Levi can’t quite keep his glare on or off his face; it slips and slides away and back, like the strike had knocked something loose in him, thrown him off kilter with the beautiful pain, flowering in a line over Levi’s chest and ribs. Stinging, the kiss of the most gentle lover and the most wonderful punishment all in one. “If you need to call it, call it, but I expect you to keep your screaming to yourself. Or,” a devilish smirk plays out over his lips, and he doesn’t make any effort to conceal it. “Perhaps you’d like a gag? A few fingers to suck on, like a good whore?” He offers, mock-sweet. 

Levi wisely keeps his snark to himself, twisting his lips with the effort it takes to hold it back. Levi has iron-clad self-control when he wants to have, and almost none when he doesn’t— but Erwin can see it better, he knows the smaller man well enough to see the glee barely hidden behind his eyes, the shiver of anticipation that he can’t quite hide when it runs up his spine. 

“Good boy.” Oh, Levi can’t even dream of hiding how he shivers all over when Erwin calls him that, how his skin pimples with gooseflesh all over and how his cock twitches, ignored and all the harder for the pain. 

Levi doesn’t cry out with the next strike, but it’s a struggle, moisture beading at the corners of his squeezed-shut eyes from how hard he’s forcing them closed, teeth grit against the visible struggle. God, he’s marvelous— Erwin’s seen him tied up before on the posts in the courtyard, back when he first joined, after the expedition that had him pledge his heart to the mission (to Erwin) but before that fateful night that the two of them drove that to the limits and back. Erwin noticed it then— Levi’s blatant want for pain, walking past him being punished for some infraction or other. He took twenty lashes across his shoulders with a nine-tailed cat without making a sound, jaw set and eyes closed, opening only to slight, derisive slits to watch Erwin pass by. He even took— how many was it, for that fateful first butchered scene? He had taken dozens of strikes before he was anywhere near content. He takes a handful now, each one charged and intense and heady with it as Erwin lets the whip fly again and again. 

He was wonderful then, and he’s wonderful now, panting heavily and whining low in the back of his throat. Erwin doesn’t think he’s ever seen something lovelier. 

Ever.

The next lash hits him in the chest, splitting the swell of his pectoral muscles with a line of pink welt. The skin there turns pale with the strike before it swells and flushes red, the cruel tip of the singletail just skimming his clamped nipple. The chains rattle as Levi twists, the pain brutal against such a sensitive part of his body, one that he instinctively tries to pull away. “Ah!” he can’t quite hold back a cry, writhing in his restraints. 

“I’ll forgive you for that,” Erwin says as Levi gasps, sucking in deep breaths of air. He’s so close, he’s so close to splitting and bursting open— revealing his sweet inner flesh, perfect for Erwin to sink his teeth into and feast upon. “But next time… keep your mouth shut.” 

“Hnngh—” Levi’s not crying, not yet— it’s a close thing, a dozen or so slashes already peppered over his creamy skin— but he’s gasping for air, his poor nipples tweaked and pinched to hell and back by the clamps and the whip’s brutal kiss. 

“Aw,” a devious idea takes root in Erwin’s mind. “You want the clamps off?” 

Levi nods, desperately, eyes glazed with the delectable combo of lust and pain. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Levi gasps, a whimper on the tail end of his word. “Yes, please— please—” 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, Sir,” Levi whispers. So sweet, how could Erwin ever think to deny him anything? He could just look at him with those eyes— in meetings, in anything, Levi could just look at him like that and he’d ruin the whole world to lay it at Levi’s feet. 

Suddenly, he understands just what loving someone enough to be a monster for them feels like. 

Levi shrieks loud enough to wake the entire base when Erwin pulls the clamps off in one fell swoop, quickly slapping his hand over Levi’s mouth lest he actually do so and some poor recruit is sent up to the Commander’s private quarters to investigate. 

“G-god—” Levi whimpers against Erwin’s palm— oh, his chest must be on fire, all the blood and nerves and pain rushing back to the numbed area. Strong man, but a painslut all the same. “G—god—” 

“You’ll certainly beg for one after that,” Erwin hisses, pressing his hand in a bit tighter so that Levi’s eyes widen— oh, should Erwin choke him? Should he move his hand higher, covering Levi’s mouth and nose, or should he move it lower, putting pressure on that wonderful, naked neck? It’s so bare, so tempting… Erwin should give him a fine collar to wear under his cravat, or maybe a pretty little chain of the most delicate gold, so fine that someone would think that it were a sentimental piece of jewelry were they to see it draped daintily over the pale skin of Levi’s collarbones. He should. He makes a mental note, for the next time he’s in Mitras. Levi would like it, but he’ll have to settle for a necklace of bruises this time. 

Settle . As if he’d ever give Levi anything less than his best, and his worst. 

“Brace yourself,” Erwin warns, and that’s the only warning he gives before he lets his arm fly. 

He must strike again, and again, and again— he’s a snake, a viper, and Levi is his helpless prey, struggling not to cry out with every bite of the leather on sensitive skin. His chest is glowing, incandescent in the light; there are pink stripes criss-crossing over red welts, over white ones, over where the skin’s been hit so many times it’s practically radiating heat. 

“Why are you blushing?” Erwin murmurs after a particularly cruel snap over Levi’s concave stomach— the flesh shying away from his touch when he lays a hand on it purely to hear Levi gasp and the muscles flinch. “Freak.” his words drip genuine, pure sweetness— a honey balm, a sweet syrup drizzled over Levi’s body and mind. 

“Yes,” Levi moans, cheeks flushed all the same. 

Erwin works him over and over, letting the whip crack through the air again and again. Levi’s a strong man, and he’s not a naturally submissive one— that’s a lie, he is, he is with every fibre of his being, but it’s hidden so deep beneath his walls and twists and façades that it really has to be pried away, plucked loose thread by aching thread. 

But, Erwin is patient, and Erwin is persistent. And as all walls do, Levi starts to crack. 

He gets a vacant, distant look in his teary eyes, swaying on his chain like he’s not sure which way is up and which way is down, which is left and which is right. Erwin slows, the tail of the whip hitting Levi’s side with barely enough force to leave a mark. 

“Color?” 

Levi stares at him with dazed, vacant eyes. Erwin clears his throat, and repeats again, more stern. “Color?” 

Levi moistens his dry lips, unsure. Erwin stops, ready to call red, but Levi speaks before he can.

“Light green,” Levi suggests hesitantly, and Erwin has to break his sternness for a bit to muffle a chuckle. Levi hasn’t quite gotten the hang of safewords, not quite yet. 

“What’s so funny?” Levi’s face is cracked with tears, but he’s smiling slightly, in that stage where all emotions are just a breath away from each other, his chest trembling and raw as he pants lightly, the chains around his wrists shivering with him. “What’s up?”

Erwin has to let his chuckle break loose, letting his lips curl up as he takes a soft towel from the basket behind him and gently wipes Levi’s tears away. It’s always a shame to do so, but the red tracks of them remain on Levi’s pale porcelain flesh, streaking down his cheeks like steaming titan marks. “It’s red, yellow, or green. There’s no light green.”

“Oh, right,” Levi says, breath huffing out of his nose in a weak laugh, tired and shaky. Erwin knows how he feels— he’s shaking inside; he’s jumbled and rattling like his shell is too big for the little beads it contains, each bead an emotion, a feeling, a thought, a little piece of those tiny things that make up Levi. It’s almost the state Erwin wants, almost but not quite. It’s a volatile, animal-like state— feral is the best way to put it, always on the edge of explosion. It’s a delicate balance, one that needs an experienced dom to handle. 

Luckily for Levi, he has just that in Erwin. He has Erwin. 

“Blow,” Erwin instructs, holding the cloth up to Levi’s nose. Levi does, sniffling when Erwin wipes his face again and discards the towel, coiling the stockwhip and stashing it in his belt so he has both hands free to cup Levi’s face, feeling the overly-warm, clammy skin burn his palms. Levi’s face gets so blisteringly hot, he loves it. 

“Are you good to proceed?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good boy,” a moment of disgusting sap overtakes Erwin: he nuzzles their noses together, rubs the ball tip of his own over Levi’s little uptick point, sickeningly sweet amidst the lashes and chains and abused raw marks on flesh. “Color?”

“Green, Sir.”

***

Levi takes the kiss of the whip beautifully. It’s a kiss— Erwin makes it so, he makes it paint Levi’s flesh as beautifully as Erwin’s lips do, leaving streaks of his love everywhere it touches, drawing the most exquisite noises from Levi’s mouth, wet and just on that edge of too much, Erwin, oh god, it’s too much, I’m gonna die. I — I love it. 

It’s a dangerous, punishing sort of love, but it’s love all the same. 

Erwin eases up, the muscles in his forearm burning. Levi’s burning, too, skin in flames as he sags in his chains, exhausted in his rapture. 

“Oh, god,” Levi’s moaning softly, thoroughly punished. His cock oozes pitifully, tied up and almost purple as it is. There’s a puddle on the floor between his legs, between his trembling feet, toes curling as he tries to keep himself upright. If Erwin was a crueler man— and he’s plenty cruel already, don’t get him wrong— he would have hitched the chains higher, just high enough that Levi would be balanced on the very tips of his delicate toes, unable to come down and relax lest the chains on his rosy nipples pull right off. 

If Erwin would be so kind as to be even crueler, he would do all that, plus thread some tight ropes or thin chains between Levi’s legs. 

“Legs apart.” 

Levi’s so thoroughly worked over that he doesn’t even think of hesitating before bracing his foot in a hold on the wall— oh, what a far cry from feral he is now! He’s docile, sweet and mewling as Erwin ties up his foot more securely, leaving Levi balanced on one shaking leg. 

“Wha—” Levi’s voice is breathy, soft and a far cry from the flat deadpan he usually speaks with as he sniffles, skin electrified. 

“Tilt your hips up.” 

Levi balks, naked fear in his eyes— the sweetest ambrosia for Erwin’s soul. “N-no.” 

“Boy,” Erwin’s voice is silken smooth. “I won’t ask again.” 

Levi chokes on a whimper that sounds like a smile, but he does as he’s commanded. 

He obeys, a quiver in his exhausted muscles as he angles his pelvis up, the angle and the way his hips flower open— it reveals his hole, a soft, hidden pink that he keeps carefully protected, as sensitive as it is. Just barely, not quite exposed enough for Erwin’s eyes. He wants Levi spread open, flayed open. He wants to ruin him beyond belief, burn him and rebuild him out of the ashes like the things of mythos and magic. 

“More.” 

Levi’s thighs must hurt, goddamn, but he presses his knee almost flat to the wall, lifting the heel of his standing leg up off the ground so that he can force himself out of hiding, bearing his soft core to Erwin for abuse and use and anything the taller man pleases to do. 

All the blood drains out of Levi’s face and comes right back— from a blush red to a stark white and back again— when Erwin digs his fingers into the meat of one muscular cheek and pulls it out of the way, raising the crop with his other hand. 

“I want you to count,” says Erwin calmly. Then, he begins. 

The first strike is true to its aim— the flat of the keeper lands right on the delicate furl of Levi’s hole. Levi throws his head back and yells through his teeth, muscles clenching weakly against Erwin’s fingers in an instinctive attempt to hideprotecthurtprotecthide  that his body does even when Erwin knows that the pain brings him such pleasure, that they’re interwoven in Levi’s mind so thoroughly that at times they become one. 

“Number?” 

“One,” Levi sobs, the bite of the strike ebbing away into heat, and his hips twitching forward into Erwin’s hand. Such a whore for what makes him feel good, always seeking more from Erwin even when it makes him wail and cry. “One.” 

Levi cries out with the next strike— a thin, reedy, broken thing that makes Erwin want to drop the crop and ravish him right there and then. 

“T-two,” Levi whimpers out, and oh, isn’t that a beautiful noise, a beautiful concession? Levi would never whimper for him, not outside of this state. Captain Levi doesn’t whimper, he doesn’t moan or whine for anyone or anything, and he certainly doesn’t spread his legs even further or tilt his hips up more so that his small cock slaps against his belly, all tied up and begging for his pretty little ass to be spanked raw. Captain Levi? No, never. Don’t be absurd. 

“Three!” Erwin has to be careful with his aim— he’s not Levi, pain doesn’t do much for him, and even if it did, smacking his own fingers with the crop isn’t the kind of sensual pain he has in mind. 

“Four!” Levi’s lips look so soft, damn him, soft and red and perfectly kissable, already abused to the point of swelling from Levi’s own teeth, sunk into the precious vermillion in an attempt to quell his sounds. It didn’t work, but Levi still bears the mark of his efforts, pink and wet and fat, the corners salty with his own tears. God, how Erwin wants to claim those lips! 

“F-five,” tears leak down Levi’s cheeks in earnest, his eyes wide but unseeing, swept up in pain. Erwin hits a little higher, barely grazing the sensitive backside of his balls just to hear Levi yelp and jerk, “six!” 

“How are you feeling?” Erwin’s hands are occupied— holding the hot, plump skin of Levi’s ass in one, the cold, slim leather of the crop in the other, but if they weren’t: he would fist his hand in coal-dark hair and pull, tugging Levi’s head side to side and shaking it as if he were a ragdoll. Erwin’s special little ragdoll, his broken little porcelain marionette. 

“Warm,” Levi moans, mouth lolling open— oh, he loves having his hair pulled, Erwin’s discovered, it makes him leak just like a little bitch— and Erwin could never resist a prize when it’s dangling so beautifully under his nose like that, all his. 

He spits in Levi’s mouth, just like that. Terribly feral, so uncouth of him, but Levi moans all the same, beyond high from the possession in the act. 

“Ungh, Erwin—” Even through the thin leather of his gloves, Levi’s flesh is so hot — “fuck me, fuck me—” 

“Hmm, ask me politely,” Erwin teases, but the other man is so beyond comprehension of joke and not, so earnest in his naked submission— every word from his master’s lips is a command, and order, and Levi always follows Erwin’s orders. He always follows Erwin. 

“Please,” Levi whimpers, eyes teary and bright with heat— “please, Erwin. Please fuck me. Please. I’ll— I’ll make it good for you, I’ll make it— I’ll make it so good for you, for you, just for you, please—” 

“You’d make it good for me? How?” Levi’s pupils are saucers of black in his eyes, swallowing the ring of silver around them almost whole when Erwin touches him, runs the tip of his gloved finger over his raw, swollen hole, not fucked (yet) but so tender it may as well have been. Levi’s sensitive, and he’s so receptive to anything that Erwin does. 

“I’d—” Levi can’t focus on anything except Erwin’s face, and even then his eyes are hazy, glazed over from the headspace that he’s in, where up is down and down is left and left is front and front is behind. He looks at Erwin’s eyes, then his cheeks, then his stare slides over to his lips, yearning and hungry. He looks like he’s been lost, and the only thing that’ll save him from endless wandering are Erwin’s lips, right here and now.

Erwin chuckles, and leans forward to nip Levi on the nose ever so slightly, just to see how Levi’s unfocused eyes cross and he tries to gather up the coordination to stick out his tongue, chasing the sting with it. 

“Oh,” Levi’s scalp is always so clean — which shouldn’t surprise Erwin as he stashes the crop in his belt and reaches up to twine his fingers through his hair, knowing how religiously the smaller man takes his bathing— but it’s always such a wonder to feel, scratching over sensitive skin and feeling silky locks between his fingers, the texture obvious even through his gloves. “Oh, my sweet, sweet boy.” 

“Yeah,” Levi nods, agreeing if only it’ll get him another nip or another kiss, or maybe a hand stroking between his trembling thighs again. “Yeah— I’m sweet, I’m sweet—”

“And who are you?” 

Levi tries to focus himself into an answer, his eyes gaining the ever-so-brief light of clarity before it fades away back into the warm, content daze. 

“I’m yours,” Levi whispers, soft as anything. 

Erwin kisses him. 

For all the whips and chains and beaten-red skin around them, the kiss is soft. It’s soft. It’s so soft that Erwin sighs into their joined lips, aching with how much he desires the man in front of him, how much he yearns for him— every day, every hour, every minute and second of his waking hours, and while he’s asleep, too. He wants Levi when he’s weak, when he’s strong, when he’s beautiful. Erwin wants Levi. 

Levi’s lips are so warm against Erwin’s, and he swears that he can feel his pulse throbbing against his own, the flesh so raw and soft and delectable when Erwin sucks Levi’s lower lip into his mouth. Erwin kisses him again and again, lavishing attention on the sensitive pink flesh, then bites down gently to make Levi gasp and mewl, chains rattling as he tries to wrap his arms around Erwin’s shoulders. Although— he is a clever little toy; he wraps his legs around Erwin’s waist, the strong muscles there squeezing him like they’re afraid that Erwin will leave if they don’t crush him. Erwin balls up his nice leather gloves in his hands, carelessly turning them inside out and casting them to the side in favor of sweeping his hands over broad, hot flesh— something that seems to drive Levi to new, wild heights. 

“Easy,” Erwin pants as Levi begins to kiss him with a fervor, a whine on the back of his tongue as he cants his hips into Erwin’s touch, the flat of his abdomen hard and broad against Levi’s needy little cock, so tied up and neglected that the delicate pink and cream flesh looks almost royal purple.

He bites Erwin’s lip almost hard enough to draw blood, bucking his hips with no finesse or tact— feral, absolutely feral, the heavy exhaustion fading away as he seeks his completion, drawing from some hidden reserve of strength to grind against Erwin’s body like a toy, no regard for anything other than come-come-come it hurts I want to come! 

Erwin sinks his nails into the tender skin of Levi’s inner thighs and he shrieks, twisting away with his ankles still cinched around Erwin’s waist. Oh, being scratched there just kills him!

“Calm down, or I’ll scratch you again,” Erwin snarls softly, mercilessly. Levi sobs raggedly, chest convulsing as he holds himself mid-thrust, muscles trembling with the effort to be good for Erwin, even if he did lose himself a bit.

“‘M sorry,” Levi’s voice is completely, utterly ruined, ragged at the edges with pain-pleasure. They may as well be the same, as gone as he is. Erwin inspects his nails, running the pad of his thumb over them. He may have drawn blood, maybe not. He can’t tell. 

His beautiful sub probably won’t care either way, truth be told. 

It’s so tempting— Levi’s skin is stretched and pried apart, revealing the pink, inner crease of him— his tight hole, swollen and beaten into something red and raw, but still so unfucked, so untouched! 

Besides… Erwin still has work to do on Levi. 

It’s intoxicating, Levi is intoxicated by the pain and pleasure of it as Erwin spanks him in a quick, two-fingered whip— again and again until Levi is writhing in his arms.

Greedy, greedy— he’s pushing his ass back so wantonly, and for what? For Erwin to punish his greedy little hole, until it’s swollen and puffy, red like a little jewel hidden between his legs. 

Actually— that isn’t a bad idea. Erwin has an actual (glass) jewel that Levi could probably keep tucked away there, right on the end of a flared steel plug polished so fine that Erwin can use it as a mirror. 

Levi keens loudly on a particularly cruel stroke— right into the center of his twitching little hole, right where he hides the most prized, sensitive little part of his body— only for Erwin to play with, only for Erwin. Levi is only for Erwin. 

“Greedy boy,” and Erwin grabs a generous handful of pert flesh at the end of his next strike, the muscles of Levi’s ass full and downright appetizing.

That’s an interesting idea, now that Erwin thinks of it. He’s punished Levi by spanking or flogging him— wringing orgasms out of his body until he fell unconscious, on one memorable occasion— but he’s never bitten him for it. Interesting. 

Erwin will have to (with great sorrow) shelve that idea and save it for later. 

Levi whimpers when Erwin gathers his cock and balls up in his big hand and tugs, squeezing in steady pulses that make Levi’s narrow eyes widen, entire face flushing fire red. 

“What if I chained you up like this, hmm?” Levi’s flesh is angry in Erwin’s hand, throbbing and so full that it’s messy, tacky precome already coating the skin in a thin sheen— Levi’s own little mark on things, undeniable, vulnerable proof of his enjoyment and pleasure even as he cries, shaking his head vigorously and pleading. 

“No, please—“ so much suffering, only for Erwin to dangle the possibility of denial in front of Levi’s nose like a poisoned carrot? Poor boy, Erwin’s torturing him mentally as much as he is sexually. 

Inside, Erwin’s a bit impressed. He didn’t know if Levi even had any tears left to cry as he gives another cruel squeeze to the sensitive parts gathered in his fist. 

“Please,” Levi’s voice cracks, quavers and spills, curling into Erwin’s chest so he can whine into his skin before Erwin hooks a finger under his skin and drags him up to press their lips together, swallowing Levi’s cries and tears in equal measure. 

Levi moans into Erwin’s mouth with an almost violent sort of cadence when Erwin releases his grip and properly touches him, wrapping a hand around his straining, leaking erection. He shakes— his whole body shakes, nearly jerking damn near out of Erwin’s grasp as he gasps, weeping pearls of glossy precome over Erwin’s knuckles like his life depends on it. 

“Does it hurt?” Erwin asks curiously, stroking over the stiff flesh to thumb at the exposed head. Levi looked gorgeous in ribbons during one of their very first scenes, but he takes to the bolo tie well, pressed into his skin in a delightful torture. Like it was always meant to be there. 

“Yes—” Levi keens, tear-stained lashes fluttering and eyes screwing shut— “yellow, yellow, get it off, please—” 

It’s what Erwin was doing already, but he hastens to find the quick-release loop right at the base of Levi’s cock, pulling the tie free. The stone clatters to the floor and Levi gasps, a small, wounded sort of noise as he strains forward to press his red face into Erwin’s chest, seeking comfort. 

“It’s off,” Erwin reassures him. It’s good that he’s tall, much taller than Levi (and much taller than most that he meets, actually)— it means that it’s not a huge effort to reach into his pocket and fish out the keys on the manacles, then reach up and unhook Levi’s thin wrists. Levi’s hands slip out of them like water— he’s exhausted, limp and clumsy in Erwin’s grasp as he carefully maneuvers the smaller man’s arms to drape around his shoulders, the muscles there depleted of their usual strength. 

“Ohh...” Levi nestles in deeper, cheek against Erwin’s breast as he takes deep breath after deep breath, calming his racing heart, his throbbing pulse. They worked on that as well, on self-regulation. Erwin likes to think himself a good teacher— excellent enough to tame a wild beast— but Levi is a naturally quick study. 

“I was about to come,” Levi sighs, whiningly with face all twisted up, sour lemon cheeks even as he’s sweet, so sweet for Erwin. 

Erwin chuckles, running his hand down Levi’s spine and back up to stroke through the closely-shorn bristles of the smaller man’s undercut, velvety beneath his thick fingers. 

“That’s the point, pet.” Oh, if Levi doesn’t shiver from how Erwin says it! It’s not even a shiver— Levi does it so forcefully, with such magnitude— it’s an entire convulsion of his body, a mewl leaving his throat as Erwin strokes his hand down again, running his hand low, lower— 

Levi is hot down there, damn him. He’s been a bad boy— well, not quite true, Erwin’s better sense corrects him. He’s been a learning boy. He’s still learning, stumbling through what’s correct and what’s not on shaky, fawn-like legs— but with all the determination of a ravenous titan that stops at nothing, not even his own destruction. 

Leaning on Erwin for guidance the whole time. 

“Did you call because you were afraid of disappointing me?” Asks Erwin, gentle, yet mindful of Levi’s cock weeping onto the fine wool of Erwin’s trousers. 

A nod, eyes squeezed shut. 

Erwin tsks under his breath, little kisses of his teeth that aren’t chastising or disappointing, just mindful. Oh, what a beautiful toy he has, a lovely little plaything that’s looking up at him with such naked want in his eyes— the want for Erwin, the want to please Erwin. 

“Thank you for telling me, Levi,” and Levi gasps when Erwin slips a finger inside him, just one to start. He flutters around his first knuckle, swollen and parting, thoroughly punished. 

“What—” Levi cuts himself off with a whine as Erwin feeds a little more in, squirming away. 

Erwin’s a dom, and a moderately sadistic one at that, but he’s not going to fuck Levi dry. He takes his fingers out, reaching into his back pocket for the vial of oil he prepared just for this. 

It may be a conditioned response, may just be a pure coincidence of time, but Erwin swears he sees Levi’s cock twitch when the pop of the cork rings out. Erwin chuckles, generous as he smears Levi’s pretty, pink hole with the stuff, golden against the puffy red of sensitive, nerve-laden skin. 

“H—hah—” Levi takes two beautifully, spreading wonderfully for Erwin’s thick, long fingers. When they put their hands together, Erwin can curl his first knuckles right over Levi’s fingertips, and he— he’s made Levi stuff his hole full and sloppy with his own fingers before, until Humanity’s Strongest was a shaking, loose-limbed pile of tears on claw-marked sheets, both hands occupied between his legs as Erwin told him to add another finger from his other hand, just one more, sweetheart, just one more; I want to see how far you can stretch for me. He wonders how many of his fingers that would equate. Levi’s quite a small man, Erwin’s quite a large one. It’s simple curiosity. 

Regardless, Levi loves when Erwin fingers him, he can’t get enough, and Erwin loves when he fingers Levi, he can’t get enough. 

Sluts, the both of them. 

Although, Levi, the tricky little thing, sometimes tries to convince Erwin to fuck him before the Commander has had his fill, always hungry for Levi falling apart beneath him. 

“Two fingers,” Levi pants out, whining through the backs of his teeth when Erwin’s shirt brushes against his lashed front— “two fingers is all I need.” 

“Don’t argue with me, boy,” and Levi twists, he twists and screams when Erwin stuffs another one in— that’s barbaric imagery, but he’s really quite neat about it, curling them into Levi’s sweet spot to make the smaller man writhe in his chains, his hitched up leg twitching helplessly. 

“Fuck!”

“You’re getting four, unless you call it.” Levi’s body gapes beautifully when Erwin spreads the three digits he has crammed inside already, the muscles and tendons of his wrist straining as he flexes his hand. Levi sobs, the stretch a beautiful agony. 

“Green,” he cries, tipping his head back so that his chest can heave, the welts on it close to incandescent, “green, green, green!”

“I can’t hear you,” Erwin teases, rubbing him there again. Levi seems to choke on his own words in his desperation, tears oozing from his eyes in the same slow drip as from his cock, pure torture. Look at him. He rather wants to tack Levi up onto the wall for everyone to see— perhaps if he were an artist, he would pose and paint Levi in the throes of submission, sweet agony singing through his veins. It’s a gorgeous sight. 

“Oh, you’re almost too pretty to ruin,” Erwin murmurs, before giving a cruel stroke that has Levi jerking, hips hitching forward in an uncontrolled spasm. “Almost.” 

His own cock is so hard it hurts, goddamn— and he’s not Levi, he’s not the one to be happily edged for hours without any relief. With a gasp, he unbuttons his trousers deftly, almost letting out a moan of his own as his throbbing arousal is released. The insides of his pants are probably beyond hope, as damp as they are with his own slick precome. He’ll have to have Levi wash them later. 

“Fuck,” Erwin grunts, giving in to temptation and hitching Levi a bit lower.

The way they both moan when their arousals meet— Erwin moans low in the back of his throat, and Levi moans high from his chest, their voices melding together in a way that Erwin will think about when he falls asleep at night; he’ll think about how it was tinged with the sweetest relief, the most tangible, wordless: oh. Hot. Oh, god. Yes. 

Levi’s body parts for him— it’s malleable under his fingers, all promised four warping his neat, tight hole into something slick and swollen and loose, completely different in this moment to how it once was. Levi’s— he’s clay beneath Erwin’s hands, his own toy to bend and break and shape however he likes. He wonders if this is how their creator felt, building them into something beautiful and terrible out of dirt and sand. 

“Fuck me!” Levi sobs in little cracks and breaks when Erwin wiggles his fingers, turns them in the perfect corkscrew to— well, to screw against his sweet spot, so oversensitive that it’s agony, so much pressure that it’s fit to burst. He tugs at his own hair, he tugs at Erwin’s hair— he sobs some more, barely enough tears left in him to wet his cheeks but doing the motion all the same, so overwhelmed and stripped down to the very marrow inside his bones. 

Oh, how is Erwin to resist such a sweet siren’s song? He can’t. He doesn’t want to. He just can’t. 

Who is truly the helpless one here? 

Levi knows what’s coming, but he still protests when Erwin makes to remove his fingers, clenching and threatening to undo all of Erwin’s hard work, all that time spent coaxing him loose. 

It sends a vicious throb through Erwin’s core to hear him whimper like that, shaking his head because he’s— he was so full, full to the point where he wasn’t sure if he could even be fuller, and now he’s empty, and why’s he empty? Even for a second, he can’t bear to be apart from Erwin, he can’t bear it, he just can’t stand it— 

Amazing, Erwin thinks to himself as he works his cock with a firm fist, perfectly perfunctory and not at all indulgent. Incredible. 

Pink like he’s been born anew from hairline to knees, flushed red from scars and kisses— the kind of whips and lips— weeping wet all over his stiff arousal and onto Erwin’s own— he’s beautiful. 

“You’re beautiful,” Erwin vocalizes it, lining up the plummy, fat head of his cock to Levi’s entrance, braced to push in and seal— and solidify something between them, this want that Levi is so fervently clawing into Erwin’s skin. 

Levi looks at him through melted silver-steel eyes, rosy lips parting to mouth a faint, please. 

Those same rosy lips fall open in a cry as Erwin presses his hips forward— oh, Levi’s body is so hungry for him, perfect in how it creates a space for him, just for him, inner muscle perfectly moulded to fit around his cock in a throb of searing heat, soft and yielding from plenty of patience and oil and lust. 

Erwin can’t help but groan softly— he’s never been one to blush easily (except for the biting windchill of cold weather, the bitch) but he can feel heat blooming on the crests of his cheekbones and forehead, sweat dampening his hairline as he breathes through the initial impulse to— to just fuck his hips into this perfect, yearning body, no regard for pace or tempo or anything but his own blinding completion. 

He tweaks one of Levi’s poppy-red nipples as a distraction from the urge. 

Levi gasps, back arching— oh, no, that’s worse, it changes the angle for them both, forcing Erwin even deeper; to the point that his taut balls press against the stretched-thin skin of Levi’s ass, sunk in all the way to the base. 

“Color?” Goddamn, his voice almost cracks. Almost. No matter how many times he does this, how many times he does that first thrust in— whether it’s lazily parting Levi’s legs and slipping inside him in those quiet morning hours before the crows sing their dawn song, or when Levi pins him to the mattress before an expedition and rides like it’s the last time he’ll ever touch him, or when they scene, or when they make love with sweet kisses and gentle affirmations mouthed into salty-sweet skin— it always takes his breath away, melting all the tension he didn’t even know he had until it was gone. It’s always a new heaven. 

“Green,” Levi’s red, welted and scarred chest is rising and falling, rising and falling with his breathing. He’s glowing, wet and red and stunned to almost silent by how full he is, how Erwin fills all that ache inside him until there’s nothing else in his head other than just how badly he wants Erwin to move, move, move, please! 

There’s such a heat coiling tight in Erwin’s gut, and how can he ever resist his beautiful boy for long? He gives a deep roll of his hips, grinding against that sweet spot of aroused flesh inside Levi, his rim fluttering around him at the feeling, toes curling. 

“Oh,” moans Levi, delirious, flying high from heat and pressure radiating through him. “More, more, please—” 

Erwin gives him more, more with deep grinds that leave them both gasping, tears welling up in Levi’s eyes just from how good it feels, how good Erwin is making him feel. 

God, he hasn’t fucked Levi without ropes or restrains in so long, he’s almost forgotten how mad with it Levi becomes in the absence of restraints, writhing in his grasp with his ankles slung over Erwin’s forearms— a wet, writhing leviathan trapped between him and the wall, speared open. 

“Er-win—” Levi’s voice cracks, a shattered web of glass in the middle of his words as Erwin gives a powerful thrust forward, fucking Levi with abandon, wildly, teeth grit against the all-consuming urge to mark Levi full and sloppy already. 

“Oh, oh, oh— fuck! F-fuck —” 

Even when Erwin’s fucking him, Levi can’t get enough— his little cock drools with every rub over his prostate, like Erwin is forcing it out of him with every thrust. It’s the best kind of pathetic, moans punched out of his chest again and again. 

Erwin is kind, he’s a kind man at heart— he lets Levi wrap his arms around his shoulders and cling on, mewls and tear-stained gasps leaving his throat every time Erwin thrusts, those little noises punched out of his throat so damn helpless that Erwin can’t help but move harder, snapping his hips faster until Levi’s sobbing, nails scrabbling against Erwin’s back. 

“Erwin— Erwin— p-please—” he probably doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, probably, fire burning in his veins and heat coiling tight in his groin— “please, please—” 

“The way you whimper is so pathetic,” Erwin marvels, sweat beading on his brow. God. Levi’s so hot, and he’s so tight— the hottest, the tightest, the sweetest little hole just for Erwin to fuck, for nothing else. He could use this sweet hole all day, disregarding Levi’s pleasure in favor of his own, having him whine in his lap and warm his cock all day, warm his bed at night as well. Erwin could, and Levi would. He would. 

“Please,” Levi begs, and oh— how can Erwin resist? Levi’s whines are more tempting than any siren’s song, his moans more enticing and his mewls more soul-stirring. Erwin can’t think to resist him any more. 

He pulls back the collar of his shirt— clothed man, naked man, his favorite contrast even when his clothes get impractically and disgustingly stained after— just enough to expose the strong muscle of his trapezius, tempting Levi with the smooth skin, tanned from long, shirtless days in the sun. 

“You may,” he allows graciously, panting. “If you so wish.” He tilts his head, groaning low in his throat when Levi flutters around him, his heels kicking against his lower back as he squirms, pinned and helpless to the overwhelming pleasure of being thoroughly used. 

Erwin’s thrusts are wrecking him from the inside out, poor thing— his hole clenches as Erwin drives in again and again and again, putting such pressure on his swollen sweet spot that all Levi can do is claw at Erwin’s back, gracing him with red wings and a broken halo: scratches all down his spine, some fit to almost draw blood. 

Needy, needy. 

Levi sucks at his neck, licks and bites and muffles all his wonderful sounds into it, great gasps and groans and moans as he’s fucked— as Erwin fucks him, fucks him so well he sees stars behind closed eyelids sealed shut with tears. Erwin’s neck will be red and purple and blue-black come morning, so high he can’t even hide it with a turned-up collar. 

So what? He’ll bear these marks with pride and satisfaction. They’re proof, undeniable, irrefutable evidence of the satisfaction that he’s given Levi. 

Levi moans, unbearably close to the edge, to the brink of a rushing waterfall, to the crest of a wave that will sweep him up in all his gorgeous entirety.  

Erwin reaches down to touch him, and the wave crashes. 

Honestly, it’s just fascinating, both in a scientific way in his logical mind and in a carnal, primal sort of way in his animal hindbrain. His cock is as small and neat as the rest of him— there’s nothing neat about how it spurts over Erwin’s knuckles, spitting out his seed over Erwin’s abdomen to paint it with pearly ropes. 

And Levi mewls like he’s dying. 

Death, sweet, little death— it overtakes him, rushing through Levi’s entire body as he freezes, brows drawing low and lips parting— it’s so delicate, the way Levi’s eyes crack open just the slightest bit, focused on Erwin even as he’s swept up. 

Tears flow freely down his face as he comes. Erwin’s never seen anything better, even as heat flashes across his own vision, the pressure in his abdomen tightening, tightening—

“Please,” Levi says in a voice so far away, inner muscles fluttering around Erwin, and there’s no hope of holding back any longer. 

One thrust, one deep fuck in— Levi’s a searing vice around him, sucking him in ever-deeper, pleading with his body what he doesn’t have the strength to say with his words! 

Fuck me, Erwin — oh, oh god, fill me up, stuff me full, I need it, oh — ohh-h-h-h, I need it, I need it, please — 

He can feel Levi’s body spasm again, inner muscles like a massage as they contract around him, carrying Levi through another climax that wrings everything from him, oversensitive and sweet. 

“I love you,” he chokes into Erwin’s ear, soft and high, words only for him.  

Erwin bites down on Levi’s shoulder, hard, and lets the inevitable wave crash over him as well in a wall of heat, sweeping them both away. 

Together. 

As they always are; as they always will be. 

*** 

A cool pitcher of water, a sweet bread with poppy seeds sprinkled throughout, and a small bowl of raspberries, their skins bright, tart-sweet red and fit to burst. 

Erwin draws Levi’s head into his lap, and it’s like the marrow of his bones is being drained out through a tap hammered into his spine, just like one would drain a sweet maple of its honeyed syrup. God, he’s tired. Tired, and so warm in the aftermath of such an orgasm and such emotions, such a high. But, like life tends so often to be: there are still tasks to be done, and chores to be completed. 

Although— that’s rather bad phrasing on his part, pardon him. Levi’s never a chore. 

Levi himself— oh, he’s lost, dazed and confused as he mouths absently at an area on Erwin’s inner thigh, following his base instincts, his animal hindbrain— that submissive, sweet part of him that says that he exists to serve Erwin, to submit and kneel in front of him and do whatever he desires even when Levi is so exhausted that all he can do is pant, scarred chest heaving. 

Levi’s base instincts have shit aim. He’s at least a finger’s length from the come-smeared cockhead that he’s trying to draw into his questing mouth. Erwin distracts him with a soft knuckle stroked over Levi’s cheek, hot with flush. 

“Drink a bit,” Erwin commands softly, tilting a pre-prepared glass of water up to Levi’s lips. He’s almost shaking, and his aim isn’t as steady as it usually is— he gets a bit on Levi’s lips anyway, a few drops skirting away from the divots of his lips to roll down his chin, down his neck and onto his flaming chest. 

“Mrgh,” Levi complains, a weak frown creasing his relaxed brow. Levi’s not the biggest fan of water, Erwin suspects that’s why he always drinks tea. It’s a good sign, his complaining. It means that he’s coming out, that Erwin can bring him back into his own body softly, lovingly. Gently. 

“Mrgh,” Erwin parrots back at him, pressing the glass to Levi’s lips a bit more insistently. If he has to pour it in Levi’s mouth and massage his throat to make him swallow, he will, make no mistake about it. He tells the other man so, and Levi wastes some precious muscle power to slit open one eye in the weakest look of resentment that Erwin’s ever seen. 

A raging kitten getting their little teeth brushed would look angrier. He tells Levi this as well. 

“Ugh,” Levi says, but swallows once, twice, then again and again, throat working until he drains the whole glass, body ravenous for liquids to replace the ones he’s lost— sweat, tears, come, and more tears. Blood, Erwin thinks, seeing faint streaks of it smeared over Levi’s chest where the skin has delicately split.

Levi tries to wipe his mouth when he’s done, always fastidious in his neatness, but his leaden limbs miss the mark, smacking Erwin in the thigh when he goes to bring his hand up to his face. “Ugh.” 

“Here, I’ll get it,” and Erwin does, wiping Levi’s face with a soft cloth. He’s got a full basket of them, each one clean white and rolled into a neat little wrap, slightly fluffy against the tan wicker wall. If Erwin could afford such indulgences as the soft, fluffy sorts of towels he’s seen used as disposable cloths (where else but in the capitol) he would buy them just to pamper Levi, but he’s also rather fond of the ones he has now. They’re good and absorbent, and Levi’s neatly stitched their names on the trimmed corners of each one in fine green thread. He’s also got some clinking bottles there in the basket, glass against glass chiming lightly when he pulls one out. 

Levi’s remarkably fast in his recovery, rolling his still-liquid eyes as Erwin daintily dabs at his lips to catch all the errant water drops. 

“Have I forgotten, or are you always such a mother hen?” Levi’s voice is raspy from how he was screaming and moaning, rough-sounding. Erwin makes a mental note to pocket some honey from their sparse Corps kitchen pantry to sneak into Levi’s tea. 

“It’s the same every time,” Erwin dismisses. “You just forget. Hand.” 

Levi grumbles but shoves a limp wrist into Erwin’s palm, livid and bruised against the warm tan. Every time, every time Levi gives Erwin his wrists to tend to after a scene, Erwin is shocked at how fucking dainty they appear at first glance, waif-like and slender in what seems a brutish grasp. 

That is, until one looks closer. Levi’s wrist, Levi’s entire hand, Levi’s entire body— it’s small, but it’s strong, the power of a hundred— nay, a thousand — soldiers coiled and dormant in his lithe frame. The joint is bony and hard, the wiry muscle of his forearm narrowing and converging into one carefully-assembled hinge, beautiful and deliberate in its power. 

Levi truly is fearfully and wonderfully made. 

People fear him, they respect him. Erwin thinks he’s wonderful. 

He massages Levi’s wrist with care, with reverence, wiping tacky sweat off and smoothing his thumbs over purple-pale skin, massaging cold cream into it and making sure that nothing is split or cracked. The cuff marks sit right over where his shirt sleeve would cover and where it would not, treading that delicate boundary.

What will happen? Erwin thinks with glee. Will he pull them down, mindful of his weak social graces, or will he shake his sleeves up, delighted to bear Erwin’s mark? Will he be proud?

Will he stare at himself in the bathhouse mirror, fingers tracing over his neck, his wrists, his chest and his thighs? Will he touch himself like that, fingers of one hand pressing the bruises anew while the other strokes his cock? Will he come like that, Erwin’s name on his still-swollen lips?

So many questions! 

Erwin asks just a mere one of them, kissing the sweetened skin of Levi’s knuckles. “Do you like them?” 

Levi already knows what he’s talking about, hazy eyes admiring himself where Erwin holds him up, oil lamps painting him pretty and warm. Levi’s not often like this— relaxed, loose-limbed, sated and pleased. Erwin is more often than not the cause of this state, but he still relishes in it whenever he can. 

“Yeah.” 

“Mmm. Good.” Erwin allows himself the indulgence of nosing at Levi’s inky hair, pressing a kiss to the flat of his forehead. He can feel the beginnings of grooves carved into the skin; it makes him smile. 

Levi lets his other hand be cleaned without any fuss, falling into a slow, deep rhythm— he’s not asleep, but he almost acts like it, trance-like as his eyes track Erwin faintly behind a fan of dark lashes. 

“Show me your pretty nipples,” Erwin softly commands. Levi’s lashes flutter, but he rolls his shoulders back in a beautiful display of tired obedience, always following Erwin’s commands. “There you go,” Erwin croons, brushing Levi’s bangs back away from his flushed face. 

“Oh… sweet boy… do they hurt?” Erwin’s voice is so coated with sympathy that it’s almost hard to believe that he’s the cause of it. They do look like they hurt, they really do, such a pretty, glowing red in the oil-lamp light. He tenderly passes the flat of a nail over one, just to feel how Levi flinches, teeth gnashing harmlessly in a grimace. 

“Ouch,” he mutters, but arching his back all the same. 

“Ouch,” Erwin agrees, fingering the puckered peak of one ever-so-gently. 

Levi sighs into the soft ministrations, a shaky breath that trembles out of his lungs, still squirming even though he’s almost too tired to even do so, oversensitive and positively buzzing with it. Erwin hums, adding more cold cream to soothe, drawing them up stiff. They’re swollen, poor things, abused almost to the point of bruising by the cold bite of the clamps. It’s an impulse, a need— a poor excuse for not being able to control himself, that’s what it is as Erwin ducks his head down to suck one rosy little bud into his mouth. 

“O-oh…” Levi blows out a puff of air, and when Erwin flicks his eyes up, he’s tipped his head back, cast it almost off the edge of the bed. “Oh…” 

His nipple tastes sweet, milky with the remnants of cream, and puffy in Erwin’s mouth, the flesh so delicate and sensitive that it drives him almost wild. Erwin sucks gently, idly, taking great cares to soothe and not arouse.

It doesn’t work. 

The next time Erwin glances up, Levi is red in the face, breath coming fast and shallow as he skirts the line between what is overstimulation and what isn’t. He’s squirming, too, thighs pressing together and slipping from how wet they are. 

“Oh, poor thing,” Erwin licks up the last of excess cream, rearranging their bodies so that Levi lays under him, hair splayed out in a halo of ink around his face. Angelic, the perfect picture of debauchery and sin. He toes his trousers off, ducks his head down to lick a long, hot stripe up the column of Levi’s sweat-salty neck. “Poor boy.” 

“Mmm,” Levi whimpers when Erwin licks him again, lower, lavishing attention on sharp collarbones. He’s still squirming as Erwin noses down his sternum, down his stomach, skirting over raw-red welts and whip’s kisses. Levi’s breath catches when Erwin comes to the crease of his hip, kissing softly at the sweet hollow as he makes his next request.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart, will you?”  

Levi eyes him through hooded lids, but inches his thighs apart from where they were pressed so tightly together, achingly. 

“Thank you,” Erwin feels compelled to say as Levi’s cock is revealed from where it was hidden away. Privately, Erwin contemplates amusedly that Levi knew exactly how this aftercare session would go, and was just taking some preemptive measures— hiding himself so that Erwin wouldn’t be able to torture him so sweetly like this with his own body’s responses. 

Erwin coaxes him into an open relief anyway, into a soft display. 

As soft as he is, between here, Erwin thinks, tracing his lips down from the thin skin of Levi’s hip down between his legs, right to the base of his cock. 

It’s soft and small, wet with his own come where it rests against his thigh, the most delicate gradient of rose pink gracing the head. Erwin thinks of breaking out the candles he keeps in his cabinet, the ones with black wax that burn low and slow. He thinks of how pretty it would look, rosy against stark black. 

He thinks of dripping a sheath of wax onto Levi, maybe even a bit into him— he’ll cast Levi’s sensitive body in it and make a perfect model of Levi’s puckered hole, just to look at it sitting on his shelf throughout the day and remind himself how sweet it is. 

Erwin’s always had a clever, dirty mind, too active for his own good. 

He sucks Levi clean with slow, milking sweeps of his tongue— Levi lets out little, dulcet mewls, his flesh warm but too exhausted and sensitive to swell again, leaving him squirming as Erwin cleans him up. 

That doesn’t mean Levi can’t come again— oh, no, Erwin can make him come in so many ways, and he doesn’t even have to be hard for half of them. He’s done it before, but it’s a delicate process— Levi’s prone to tearing out hair if he’s overstimulated so far with Erwin’s mouth that he comes soft or dry. He’s also prone to falling unconscious from it, so overstimulated that even the body of Humanity’s Strongest can’t take it. Erwin always feels so proud of himself then, and he feels proud of Levi as well; a warm flame always builds in chest at the proof of his own skill as a dom, at Levi’s trust in him. 

“Nnngh.” Levi whimpers, squirmy and sensitive as Erwin suckles on the tender head, running his tongue over the bundle of nerves right beneath it. “Erwin, Erwin—”

Ah, he’s close to getting Levi too wound up, treading the line of what is good for his beloved sub right now and what isn’t. Erwin adjusts accordingly.

He lets Levi fall from between his lips to the sound of another croaking whimper— Levi, already missing the searing warmth of Erwin’s mouth. It’s easy to get carried away when Levi is so sweet and receptive like this. 

He moves on, sucking gentle kisses into the soft skin of Levi’s inner thighs on the way to his next task, before he changes his mind and detours up. Levi would never forgive him if Erwin didn’t clean him thoroughly.

Erwin licks the smears of blood off Levi’s chest tenderly, soothing the shallow splits in the skin with gentle lathes of his tongue. 

“That… mmm… that can’t be sanitary,” Levi mumbles, sighing into his pillow all the same. 

Levi’s flesh is so hot and raw against his tongue, coppery against Erwin’s lips. Erwin chuckles, idly tweaking one of Levi’s rosy nipples. “Mmm, probably not.” 

The textures all over Levi’s body— oh, Erwin can’t even pick a favorite, they’re all so pleasant to feel and survey, to run his hands over or to taste on the tip of his tongue. Levi’s stiff nipples, the smooth and ragged skin of his chest where it’s all scarred over, the bumps and curves of his ribs, his full lips— Erwin loves him all. 

Powerful legs are parted with the most tender hands, reaching down to caress each firm globe of Levi’s ass. 

Erwin swirls his tongue over Levi’s hole, red and puffy and smeared with Erwin’s own come. It’s such a primal act, licking his release out of Levi, on his knees and slurping like an animal between Levi’s thighs.

“Oh-h-h—” Levi’s breath hitches, but he’s too tired to hold it firmly, so it escapes his lungs in little stutters, each one music to Erwin’s ears. “Oh.”

“Mmm…” Levi flinches when Erwin hums against his sore hole, the stimulation close to unbearable even as he tries to press into the touch of Erwin’s tongue. He kisses Levi’s hole as gently as he would kiss a lover— maybe even gentler, given that the same Levi in question is the lover he tends to kiss. 

He licked Levi here, earlier, with the hard tongue of the crop, and now he’s licking at it with his own soft tongue, the flesh swollen and oversensitive from the licking and hitting and fucking. Levi doesn’t keep very tight hold of Erwin’s seed— he’s too drained, too exhausted, so half of it had already slipped from him, soft and wet down his inner thighs. What’s left in him is promptly cleaned up. Erwin rather likes it, the sheer possessiveness involved in the whole process. Claiming Levi not once, but twice— marking him then tidying him up.

Although, Levi doesn’t make his job the easiest— he’s swollen, sore, thoroughly worked over by the crop and by Erwin’s own hand— his legs twitch around Erwin’s head, the throb of his pulse pounding against Erwin’s ears, all noises muffled but for the rush of blood and the wet sounds of Erwin’s tongue, his nose, his lips against Levi’s fucked-loose hole. Fucked perfectly loose, fucked just for Erwin, just by Erwin. 

“Dirty, wonderful boy,” Erwin praises, whispering the words into Levi and taking them right back out with broad swipes of his tongue. 

“Oh,” Levi hiccups, the words catching in his throat, “oh, oh, Erwin—” shaking hands come down to thread through Erwin’s golden hair, forming a trembling fist as Erwin licks him again, and again, and again. 

He eats Levi like that— he calls him dirty with the most loving voice, praises his beauty as he sucks deep wine kisses into his thighs and lathes his tongue over them to soothe, groans his own pleasure into the sensitive-smooth skin as he wraps a hand around his own cock and jerks it in time with his licks, blood rushing to his head and turning everything into a oil-covered daze. 

Levi moans when he realizes what Erwin is doing, a high edge of desperation in his voice. He’s stunning, undulating his hips into Erwin’s tongue, chasing his own pleasure even when it brings tears to his eyes, too much to handle but always craving more. 

He breaks first, a mere heartbeat before Erwin. Always so greedy for his pleasure, enough that he couldn’t even wait for Erwin to catch up. 

Erwin feels him give a great shudder against his face— his thighs tense up, so tight that Erwin feels a howling storm of blood roaring in his ears, lashing against the windows of his mind— and then it all stops, Levi’s legs falling away with a gasp that holds everything and nothing all at once. 

He’s come almost-dry, weeping against his own hip. 

The sight drives Erwin to his own climax, and he can’t help it, he just can’t help it— he bites down on the fat of Levi’s ass, right on the underside of the swell of it, in that sweet spot that meets Levi’s thighs whenever he happens to take a seat. 

Levi cries out, pulling Erwin’s hair tight— if he could come again from that, he would! 

Even through the throes of his own orgasm, Erwin is generous, Erwin is loving, Erwin is kind— he kisses the stamp of his teeth he left behind, so gently his lips just brush against the sensitized skin, barely-there. 

Levi’s chest is heaving when he surfaces, the pink planes of his pectoral muscles rising and falling, his pulse fluttering in his throat. It slows gradually, calmed by Erwin’s hand stroking his flank. It takes a while— it might take minutes, might take years, but Erwin is alright with that. He never wants to move. Right here, right now, at this moment in time— everything is right. 

Levi starts to squirm as he comes back into himself, the tacky feel of his skin stirring that cleaning urge within him, but softer now than it was, relaxed and warm. Erwin’s done his job well. 

“Well?” Erwin’s voice is thick, so he swallows, clearing his throat. He’s loath to break the comfortable silence between them, the lovely afterglow. “How was that?”

Levi angles his head up, a cheeky flush still gracing his face, tone too nonchalant to be genuine. That, and other things. 

“It was alright, I guess.”