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The moon is high in the sky, basking the Survey Corps’ headquarters in dim, cold light. Levi shivers hard as a treacherous gust of wind makes its way underneath his too-thin uniform—he should have brought his cape, but he doesn’t want to go back. Instead, he wraps his arms around himself, bringing his knees up against his chest, his chin resting on top of his arms. He keeps his gaze resolutely fixed on the empty sky, where even the sight of the shining stars isn’t enough to fill the gaping and festering hole in his heart.
It was not supposed to be that way. He wasn’t supposed to be alone.
What good is gaining the sky if he’s the only one under it?
He bites his lips, clenching his teeth and closing his eyes in a vain attempt to prevent the tears from sliding down his face, but he’s powerless. Just as he was powerless to save them. Levi is not used to feeling powerless—he was always strong, stronger than most. Even in the shithole that is the Underground, he always managed to survive. It seems almost ridiculous that they would have gone this far only to fail so close to their goal.
Some days, he forgets about it, for an instant, when he wakes up, right before he opens his eyes. For a brief second, he forgets, and when it comes crashing back on him, he keeps his eyes shut, because as long as he doesn’t open them, they are not dead yet. They continue to live, for a couple of seconds each day, in this strange moment when his dreams slowly fade away. Right before his bunkmates start moving and Levi can’t ignore the ugly truth any longer and they go back to being dead and Levi to being alone.
He never would have thought loneliness would be so cold.
He swallows the lump in his throat, hard, but the tears are still sliding down his cheeks. A broken sob escapes his mouth as he digs his nails into his palms, deep enough to leave marks.
Right there, at the top of the highest tower of the Corps’ building, Levi allows himself to cry. Just for a few minutes, he thinks, as his chest constricts and his face crumbles. He cries for Furlan and Isabel. He cries for his mother. He cries for himself, too. He cries for longer than he intended, curled up on himself, trying desperately to silence the pathetic whimpers coming from his throat as his shoulders shudder violently under the weight of his grief.
He feels very small right now. Like a boy instead of a man. A frightened little boy curled up into the corner of a filthy brothel room waiting to die; left alone on the streets a few years later; kneeling in the bloody mud next to his only friends’ dismantled bodies.
And he hates it. He hates this place, he hates the Captain, and above all—he hates himself.
He feels like a mouse in a serpent’s nest every time he walks into the mess hall or the training grounds. Most of his so-called comrades look at him with anger, some with disgust. Others, with fear. Very few with indifference. Even less with sympathy.
He couldn’t care less about their sympathy, anyway.
He really should have left the minute they died. He shouldn’t have let himself be convinced by the Captain’s heated speech; he should have slit his throat and be done with it.
But he stayed, and now he has to endure the man's damn speeches and stupid orders and the way he sometimes watches him when he thinks Levi doesn't notice. But Levi notices. He always does.
There’s the sudden rattling noise of a door opening behind him, and Levi jumps on his feet, ready to snap at whoever dares catch him in such a vulnerable state. He quickly wipes his face, trying to hide all evidence of the moment of weakness he indulged in just now.
“I thought I might find you here,” Smith says, his voice breaking the quiet and peaceful silence of the night.
Levi stays hidden in the wall's shadow, his back resting against the wet bricks, his whole body on alert.
“What do you want,” he replies, glaring at the man standing in front of him. His voice doesn’t crack—to his relief.
Smith lets out a sigh. “You weren’t in the mess hall for dinner,” he explains. “Hange was worried. I told them I’d check on you.”
“The fuck do you care.”
Levi keeps his eyes stubbornly fixed on the floor, avoiding Smith’s gaze, so intense and piercing as usual. The man is an enigma—Levi can never seem to figure out what’s going on inside his head. He always seems to be several steps ahead of everyone else, eyes fixed on something only he can see or comprehend. It’s infuriating.
“Believe it or not, Levi, it’s my job to care. You are a soldier under my command now, so you are my responsibility,” Erwin retorts coolly.
“Then stop caring about my whereabouts. I never asked to be your responsibility, and I certainly don’t want to be. Tell that crazy four-eyes to stop caring too. What I do is none of your fucking business.”
Erwin huffs, his eyes cold and distant. “As a soldier of the Survey Corps, you are expected to abide by the rules. I can’t have you sneaking around the grounds every night. You will obey, Levi, and you will behave.”
Levi scoffs, anger throbbing in his chest. Fuck him. Fuck all of them.
“Or what? Will you punish me, Captain?” he mocks.
“Wouldn’t you like that…” Erwin murmurs in a low voice. He takes a step forward at the same time, stepping into the moonlight—Levi can see his face now. Hard, calculating—dangerous. He’s closer to him now, forcing Levi to look up. He bites hard on the inside of his cheek, hatred plastered across his face.
Hatred for the man. Hatred for the Corps. Hatred for himself.
Smith is towering over him, the perfect incarnation of command and power. Unyielding. A man used to give orders, never looking back to check if he’s being followed because he has the tranquil assurance that he is. He looks almost regal, with his square jaw and high cheekbones, his uniform falling neatly over his shoulders and the polished bolo tie hanging tightly around his neck.
Levi wants to slice that throat from ear to ear.
Smith takes another step forward, bracing both hands on the wall on each side of Levi’s head. He approaches his head, and his breath smells like alcohol and cigarettes.
“I bet you’d let me punish you, wouldn’t you, Levi? Maybe I can teach you some obedience....”
Levi’s breath hitches, and he shivers involuntarily. He bares his teeth at the man.
He stays still, though, hostility pouring from every muscle of his body. He lifts his head up, locking his eyes into Smith’s own, his lips pressed into a thin line. He’ll be damned if he looks intimidated. He won’t give him that pleasure.
Erwin’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of Levi’s tear-stained face. It softens his gaze, strangely, for a second. He raises a hand, tucking Levi’s chin up, his fingers lightly brushing his cheeks. He seems to hesitate.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly. Which only angers Levi more. He doesn’t need his pity. He doesn’t need his compassion. He doesn’t need anything from him.
“Fuck you.”
Levi roughly pushes the hand away from his face. He narrows his eyes.
“Don’t you dare touch me, you bastard,” he spits, moving away from the man. He hurries towards the door, anxious to put as much distance as possible between Smith and himself.
Behind him, Smith doesn’t move. “Where are you going?”
“To bed, Sir, ” Levi answers, as irreverently as he can, with his hand on the doorknob. “Or do I need your permission for that as well?”
He doesn’t wait to get an answer, disappearing rapidly into the darkness of the old stony staircase, his heart beating so furiously in his chest he swears it’s going to jump out of his chest. The skin on his chin is tingling where Smith’s fingers have touched him.
He doesn’t see Smith for a few days after that. He tries not to think about it. He puts the encounter as far as he can in his head, instead focusing on training relentlessly.
He pushes his body to near exhaustion every day, only stopping when his legs threaten to give up under him, and every muscle in his body is screaming in pain. Physical pain is so much easier to deal with than grief. At least that way, he’s too exhausted at night to think about them or to mind the fact that he has to share a room with three other people who glare viciously at him every time he enters the bunks.
He takes burning showers that leave his skin red and itching, and he scrubs at himself frantically with the harsh military soap until he’s raw and nearly bleeding. At least he’s clean, here. That’s something.
He avoids the mess hall, and the corridor where Smith’s office stands, the closed door taunting him. Still, on the few scarce occasions he crosses Smith’s way, he can feel the man’s eyes on him, burning holes in his flesh.
At night, he entertains the fantasy of slipping into his room under the cover of darkness and sticking his knife into his heart. Wipe that smug, arrogant smile from his face with the sharpness of his blade.
He doesn’t think about the surprise and the softness in Erwin’s eyes when he saw the tears in his eyes. In fact, he tries to forget about it—because it doesn’t match the ruthlessness of the Captain’s image he painted in his mind.
He does, however, think of Smith’s fingers on his skin and his breath on his face, late at night, with his hand shoved deep inside his pants, moving frantically. He thinks about biting into the tender skin of his neck and roughly pulling at his perfect hair, while he comes all over his hand and stomach, his mouth open in a silent cry.
In the morning, he pretends it never happened, because Levi doesn’t want to stop and think about whatever it means.
It’s raining when he runs into Erwin Smith again. He notices because everything is sticky, humidity sneaking into every corner of the building, the moistness clinging to his clothes and his skin. It stinks up the place—mouldy smell from the damp uniforms, musty smell from the soldiers’ bodies.
It’s filthy, and it reminds him of the Underground.
He’s been outside training all day nonetheless, grateful for the opportunity to get away from the others for a while—there are not many people willing to brave the rain, so the training grounds are almost empty. And besides, there are not many people skilled enough to complete the training track in the pouring rain. He can barely see in front of him, but it doesn’t matter, because he never really needed to see to be able to fly.
He remembers the first time he felt the rain on his skin, a few weeks after his arrival above ground. At the time, he thought that it was the sweetest thing he’d ever experienced. But good memories never stay good very long in Levi’s life. Everything always ends up twisted and darkened. And now, the rain wiping his face as he flies over the track brings back another day to his mind. Another memory—blood in the mud, torn limbs and forever lifeless eyes haunting him.
The harsh reminder of his own weakness—and his failure.
He lands a bit too heavily in a puddle, mud splashing across the leather of his boots and spattering across his back. He grits his teeth as he feels his skin breaking inside his shoes, the blisters covering his feet popping open with the force of the impact.
He doesn’t see the tall figure standing on the other side of the field at first, his head covered by his thick hood and his arms crossed. It’s only when he hears Smith’s voice that he turns around.
“You shouldn’t train in this weather, Levi,” Smith tells him. He’s dripping wet, his bangs glued to his forehead. There’s a tiny drop of water hanging from his thick lashes, and it’s distracting, Levi thinks.
“I thought I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”
Smith grins as if amused by Levi’s rudeness. “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he states politely. “You see, I have been tasked to ensure you don’t run away.”
“Bullshit.”
“You really need to learn some manners, and some obedience. You could do great for yourself in the Corps if only you could accept to take orders. You are incredibly strong—maybe the strongest I’ve ever seen. And your skills with the ODM gear are unmatched.”
Levi doesn’t answer because, in truth, he doesn’t know what to say. If Smith wants to see him as his personal weapon, well, fine, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck. He doesn’t give a fuck about much these days anyway. So, he stays silent, standing in front of the Captain, a bored expression painted on his face.
When it becomes clear that Erwin won’t speak again, he finally opens his mouth. “Don’t worry, Captain, I have no intention of running away. You can stop watching me. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
“Why are you here, Levi?” Smith asks back. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed.
“What kind of stupid question is that.”
“Just answer me,” Smith commands.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because—because it doesn’t matter,” Levi spits. “It doesn’t fucking matter, as long as I’m here to kill your fucking titans, right? You get what you want, you—you don’t need to know why. You don’t get to.”
Hell, he’s not even sure he knows why.
He shifts his weight, uncomfortable under the intensity of Erwin’s gaze. It makes him wince as the raw wounds on his feet rub against his boot, and the too-tight harness bites hard into the skin of his thigh. Erwin’s eyes flicker briefly to his legs, and Levi scowls when he realises that Smith noticed. He braces himself for another snarky comment, but instead, Smith’s voice is flat when he speaks again.
“Come with me.” Smith turns around, crossing the field in a few long strides. Levi entertains the idea of disobeying the order, but he’s exhausted, cold, and in pain. So, he simply grits his teeth before following the man.
Smith leads him across the building until they reach the door of his own office. He opens the door, holding it open for Levi as he motions for him to enter first. Levi hesitates before crossing the threshold. Inside, it’s dark, but Smith makes his way to the desk, rummaging through a drawer before producing a small matches box that he uses to light up the candles scattered across the room. He holds a small bottle in his other hand, which content Levi can’t quite make out.
He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching as Smith shrugs down his coat and his cape, hanging them carelessly on the back of a chair.
“Sit,” Smith tells him, waving his hand in the direction of the couch in front of the fireplace. “And remove your boots and socks.”
Levi frowns, confused, but he obeys. He’s not sure why, though. Maybe he’s just too tired to protest—or to care. So, he lets himself sink into the soft cushions, barely repressing a moan as his strained muscles relax against the comfortable couch. Being the Captain has its perks, apparently, he thinks bitterly.
Smith rubs a towel into his hair, handing another to Levi, and it makes his hair all messy, sticking weirdly in all directions. He then disappears into a small room on the side of the desk—his bedroom, probably, so Levi uses the towel to try and dry himself as much as he’s able to. He kicks off his boots, aligning them neatly in front of the fire, and folds his damp socks next to them. They’re stained by blood and mud. His toenails are blackened and brittle, the skin covered in open and bleeding blisters. He observes the angry red marks on his skin, where the harness sliced his feet.
Smith returns, wearing dry clothes, and he’s holding a bottle of liquor and two glasses. He sets them up on the small table next to the couch, right next to the small vial he retrieved from the desk. He pours himself a drink, then raises a brow at Levi in a silent question. Levi nods, uncaring. He accepts the glass and downs it quickly, relishing in the burn of the alcohol in his throat.
The Captain fills his glass up again, sipping on his drink silently before setting his own glass back on the table and reaching for the other bottle. He turns towards Levi, opening it and pouring a small quantity of its content onto his fingers.
“Give me your foot,” he tells him.
It’s clinical. Erwin treats his wounds without looking at him, spreading the balm onto his open skin, massaging the flesh with expert fingers. When he’s done with the foot, he sets it back onto the couch and taps Levi’s ankle gently.
“The other one.”
Levi can’t recall the last time someone took care of him like that. Maybe it was Furlan—or maybe his mother. It doesn’t matter anyway. Still, it’s nice, he thinks despite himself. A bit patronising, perhaps. But the balm feels good against his skin, and he’s starting to warm up, thanks to the liquor in his belly and the roaring fire in the chimney.
Erwin’s fingers gently trace the outline of the red mark left by the harness, and it lights a fire under Levi’s skin.
“You shouldn’t push yourself like that,” he whispers.
Levi shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”
Erwin’s fingers are still on his foot, his thumb rubbing absently at the sensitive skin. “Yes, it matters. You matter, Levi. Even if you don’t think so.”
“Fuck you.”
He frees his foot from Erwin’s hands, a bit more harshly than necessary. The Captain’s hand remains on the couch, inches away from Levi’s leg. Levi is painfully aware of how close that hand is to his thigh.
Levi looks at him—really looks at him, perhaps for the first time. He takes in the dark circles under his eyes, the messy hair, the hoarse voice and the worried lines on his forehead. He thinks about his torn-up feet, the deep markings all over his own skin and the restless nights filled with nightmares and never-ending grief.
“Do you ever think about whether this is all worth it?” he asks.
Smith seems taken aback by the question. His hand leaves the couch to rest on his lap.
“Whether or not it’s worth it, Levi, is irrelevant,” he states. “We simply don’t have any other choice.”
Levi nods and stands up to leave. He hesitates when he reaches the door, turning back to look at Smith, whose eyes are locked into the fire.
“Thank you,” he says before leaving the room.
He doesn’t see the way Erwin flexes his fingers a few times, as if trying to drive away the lingering feeling of Levi’s feet in his hand.
“Why do you always look so grim, Levi?”
He jerks away from the hand aiming for his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me,” he tells Hange, who’s sitting down next to him. He scoots away from them on the bench, not caring if he appears rude—he just can’t stand the idea of being that close to someone, and Hange doesn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space.
They simply laugh, and he stays silent, hoping they will get the hint and leave him the fuck alone.
They do not. Instead, they start to blabber happily about some crazy nonsense about the titans’ characteristics and how interesting their physiology is.
“Can you imagine if we were able to capture one, Levi? The discoveries we could make by studying it—it could bring us one step closer to understanding their true nature!”
“Why the fuck would you want that,” he asks in disbelief.
Hange frowns, looking puzzled. “How do you expect to fight an enemy if you don’t know the first thing about them?”
And… Levi is forced to admit that it makes some kind of sense. Study your enemy, learn their weaknesses and use them to your advantage. This is the first lesson Kenny taught him. No—the first lesson was that you can only count on yourself to survive. A lesson that proved to be wrong, eventually, as Levi met Furlan and Isabel and learned that three are stronger than one. A lesson he should have remembered before leaving them alone to go in pursuit of Smith on that dreadful day.
He lets his thoughts drift away while he listens absent-mindedly to Hange’s chatter. His eyes roam the mess hall—it’s Christmas, and everyone is celebrating. People are drinking, eating, chatting joyfully, and the room is filled with laughter, joy and the clinking sounds of glasses against glasses and cutlery against plates.
He absently wonders why his own heart feels so numb.
His eyes scan the room—until his heart comes to a stop as he meets a pair of piercing blue eyes across the hall. Smith is chatting with another soldier, a man taller than Smith—if that's possible. Mike, he thinks his name is. Mike Zacharias. He always looks at Levi in distrust, the way you look at a wild beast as if you expect it to suddenly snap and attack you.
He raises his glass in Smith’s direction, tilting it mockingly in a parody of a toast. He cocks an eyebrow at the man, throwing his head back to finish his drink, all the while keeping his eyes on him. He watches as Smith's eyes wander across his bare neck.
He’s a bit drunk, he realises, and it’s starting to make him feel uncomfortable. Everyone in this room is enjoying the evening, the good food, the alcohol and the company. Everyone except Levi. He only went down to get something to eat before bed; he never meant to join the festivities. Besides, it’s not like anyone wants him here.
So, he stands up, a bit too abruptly perhaps, and makes his way across the room towards the exit, ignoring Hange’s surprised stare. For some reason, he turns back to Erwin, as if daring him. The Captain’s eyes are still fixed on him. Levi watches him lean towards Mike to whisper something in his ear, his hand on his comrade’s shoulder. He doesn’t stop to see if Erwin stands up too.
He barely has time to reach the corridor leaning to his room when he hears footsteps behind him. He smirks; Smith took the bait. He could kill him right here, he thinks. Lure him somewhere dark, slit his throat, steal a horse and run away. Everyone is busy drinking themselves into oblivion; no one would figure out what he did before morning—and by then, he’d be long gone.
Yes, he could kill him. Strangely, he realises that the idea doesn’t bring him as much joy as it once did.
Maybe he just doesn’t want to prove them right.
“Turning in already, Levi?” Smith asks in a heavy and slightly slurring voice—it seems that he enjoyed the wine tonight.
Levi turns around, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “I don’t like big crowds.”
Erwin’s gaze is electric, the shadow of a smirk dancing on his lips. There’s a challenge in his eyes. “You don’t like much about this place, do you? Still thinking about leaving?”
Levi knows that he’s about to do something very, very stupid right now. He leans into the wall, tilting his head up, looking at Smith through his eyelashes—but there’s nothing kind or soft in his smile.
“I won’t leave.”
Smith steps closer to him, towering over him, so achingly close Levi has to brace his hands flat against the wall to prevent them from trembling.
“Good. Don’t.” Erwin breathes out, sharp and hoarse.
“Or what?” Levi taunts back. He watches Erwin’s eyes go dark and dangerous, and suddenly there are hands on his shoulders, pushing him flush against the wall, a thigh between his legs, hard and demanding, and lips on his, prying burning kisses from his mouth.
He opens his mouth and kisses back, vicious and desperate because there’s a burning fire in his stomach and guts threatening to consume him entirely. Erwin's hand moves from his shoulder to harshly grab the back of his neck as his tongue invades Levi's mouth.
It’s rough and messy and wet, saliva dribbling down their chin, all teeth and tongue.
Levi bites him, hard enough to taste blood, and licks at the punctured lip as he fists his hand into Erwin’s collar, pulling him closer. He moans loudly in Erwin’s mouth when the thigh between his legs presses further, the friction already almost too much on his hard cock.
He rubs himself against the thigh, once, twice, panting loudly as he rolls his hips relentlessly. Smith’s hips are moving, too, in a frantic and uncoordinated rhythm. They kiss like that for a while, rough and unyielding, like it’s a fight. Erwin’s lips move from his lips to his neck, biting unforgiving marks into the flesh. His mouth travels downwards as he kneels before Levi, gripping his hips harshly as he traces the outline of his cock through the fabric of his pants.
Levi has thought countless times about bringing the Captain to his knees, in very different circumstances. This is infinitely better, he thinks.
Smith’s face is flushed, his hair tousled and his lips red and swollen. There’s a faint trace of blood underneath his lower lip, where Levi bit him earlier, and it almost makes him smile.
Erwin smirks when he sees Levi watching him. “Enjoying the view?”
It angers Levi, so he grabs him roughly by the hair, pulling him up. “Not here,” he spits.
Erwin’s eyes are gleaming with lust, but he doesn’t protest and lets himself be led to Levi’s room.
As soon as they enter the room, Levi finds himself slammed against the wall once more, his wrists pinned above his head by Erwin’s left hand while his right one slips into the front of his pants, fingers wrapping against the hard length of his aching cock.
Levi arches into the touch, bucking his hips, throwing his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. Erwin’s hand keeps moving along his shaft, jerking him off mercilessly, and Levi can’t help the pathetic noises falling from his open mouth.
Everything is too much, and he can barely breathe because his whole body is on fire and right now, he can only focus on Erwin’s tight grip around his wrist and his lips on his neck and his hand on his cock. He wants to protest against the restraint and fight back, but his treacherous body betrays him, arousal crashing over him at the feeling of being unable to move. He struggles to think—
So he doesn’t.
He fucks Erwin’s fist, his hips following the up and down movements of the man’s hand, tightness pooling in his gut with each stroke of Erwin’s thumb over the head of his cock. He’s vaguely aware of the noises he’s making—all moans and whimpers and whines.
But Erwin’s lips have turned too gentle, too soft on his neck, and he needs more. He wants to feel everything right now. He wants to lose himself; he wants to scream until his throat hurts.
“Come on, Smith, is that all you got?” he croaks, a bit hoarse. He’s playing a dangerous game.
Smith’s eyes turn impossibly darker as he lets go of Levi’s wrist to shove two fingers roughly into his mouth, almost making Levi gag. “Suck,” he orders. Levi sucks, coating the fingers with a thick layer of saliva—just enough, but not too much because he knows what’s about to happen, and he wants to feel the burn.
His breath hitches as Smith sinks to his knees once more, unceremoniously shoving Levi’s pants down mid-thighs, and suddenly there’s a hot breath over his cock and wet fingers against his asshole. He shivers—in anticipation of what’s to come and at the sight of Smith right now. Heavy-lidded eyes, filled with lust and hunger, a flush across his cheeks. Magnetic smile.
His jaw slacks open, and there’s a white flash in his chest when Smith takes him into his mouth in one fluid motion, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he plunges his finger one knuckle deep into Levi’s ass. It’s overwhelming, and Levi gasps.
“Fuck,” he groans. After a few seconds, he pushes his ass against Erwin’s hand, encouraging him to start moving. Erwin complies, sliding his finger in and out in pace with his head bobbing along Levi's cock.
At some point, Levi wonders briefly where the Captain learned to suck cock that well, but a particular swirl of his tongue combined with a particular twist of his finger—fingers, actually—inside him has him almost crying out, his knees buckling under him as he unloads inside his Captain’s mouth. Erwin swallows it all greedily, licking his lips to catch every drop of cum, and that’s almost enough to make Levi come a second time.
After, as Levi is trying desperately to catch his breath, slumped against the wall, Erwin jerks himself off, quick and dirty, and it only takes him a few strokes before he’s groaning and painting the floor white.
They look at each other, both dishevelled, panting and flushed.
Levi pulls his pants up and turns his back on Erwin while he dresses back. He purposefully takes a long time to rebutton his shirt and by the time he’s done, he hears the door click and Smith is gone.
After the incident, Levi avoids Smith as much as he can.
Sometimes, when they run into each other in a corridor or across the mess hall, he can see Smith hesitating, his mouth opening briefly before closing up.
“Levi.”
“Captain.”
No more. No less.
An acknowledgement, or a denial. Maybe it doesn’t matter, after all, because Levi swears to himself that it will never ever happen again.
Which is why when he finds himself pressed into the wall of the stables one night, after a particularly difficult expedition beyond the walls, he tells himself that he’s just trying to forget about the deaths, and the walls, and the titans. It’s a human thing, to crave contact in the wake of loss. Losing soldiers reminds him too much of them , and he simply needs to forget for a moment. So, he wraps his legs around Smith’s waist, licking desperately into his mouth, rubbing his hard erection against Smith’s clothed one.
He lets himself be carried to a nearby crate, where Smith sits him roughly, spreading his legs before settling between them. Levi grips his Captain’s hair, harshly, pulling back his head to expose his neck. He attacks it with his mouth, sucking angry marks on the skin, not caring about someone seeing it in the morning.
It’s the Captain’s problem, he thinks.
Smith moans, and his hands drop down to grab at Levi’s ass, strong fingers flexing over his ass cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer. They grind against each other, messily, frantically, and the friction feels good, so good, Levi whines, or moans, or sobs.
He takes Smith’s face between his hands and kisses him again, sucking his lower lips into his mouth. Smith’s pace falters briefly, and his eyes flutter shut, so Levi tugs at his waistband, demanding.
“Come on,” he bites.
Smith stops kissing him long enough to free both their cocks from their pants. He aligns their lengths together and starts stroking, his hand large enough to cover them both. Levi clings desperately to Smith, biting his lips to prevent himself from making too much noise. They’re not even kissing anymore—just breathing, panting into each other’s mouths, their foreheads resting against each other.
Smith mutters something in a broken voice, and Levi thinks that it may have been his own name, but he doesn’t linger on the thought because the feeling of Erwin’s come splattering on his own cock is enough to push him over the edge, and he sobs, throwing his head back as he rides the waves of his orgasm.
One night, as he fights an endless battle against insomnia, roaming the corridors of the Corps Headquarters, he realises he’s standing in front of the Captain’s door. It’s late, but there’s light under his door.
He’s not sure why, but he knocks, gently, once.
Maybe because loneliness is easier when you’re sharing it with someone, even if it’s just for a few moments of heated embrace. It’s better than nothing—better than his cold sheets and his relentless nightmares.
There’s no response behind the door, so he turns back. He tries to tell himself he’s not disappointed, when Smith appears around the corner, looking surprised to see him there.
“Levi. Were you looking for me?” he asks.
He seems tired, Levi remarks, so he lies. “No.”
Smith nods. “Okay. Would you like to come in anyway?”
No, thinks Levi. “Yeah, okay,” he replies.
Erwin kisses him as soon as the door closes, and Levi wraps his arm around his neck. It’s soft, at first, but soon Levi grows impatient, and he starts tugging at Smith’s clothes, his hands already working carelessly at the buttons of his shirt. He pushes it down the man’s shoulders, revealing his chest—firm and perfect. He lets his hands roam across it, grazing lightly at Smith’s nipples, eliciting a small moan from the Captain that Levi drinks eagerly from his mouth. He rubs them between his fingers, pinching and pulling. He’s not gentle, but Smith seems to like it because he walks Levi backwards to the small door leading to his bedroom, and they stumble onto the bed.
Levi is on his back, and he spreads his legs, inviting. He barely has time to catch his breath before Smith climbs on top of him, on all four, hovering over him. His breath is shaky as he pins him against the mattress, rolling his hips—hard, unforgiving—against Levi’s groin.
Levi lets out a breathy sound at the sensation, half a moan and half a cry, and lifts his own hips in response, chasing after the intoxicating friction. Bending down to capture Levi’s mouth into another heated kiss, Erwin shrugs down his shirt, sending it flying across the room. Levi marvels at the feeling of the muscle underneath his fingers, the heaviness of the body on top of him, the inviting promise of the erection rubbing against his.
There’s a fire burning deep inside his gut, and another roll of Erwin’s hips has him sliding his nails across the Captain’s back, drawing deep marks into the skin. Erwin groans, and Levi tilts his head back, deepening the kiss. He runs his tongue across Erwin’s lips, forcing them open. He kisses him hungrily, licking into his mouth, his head spinning from arousal and lust. They’re still grinding against each other, and Levi can already feel the tightness pooling down in his belly. His pants are uncomfortably tight, so he unbuttons them, wriggling under Erwin to try and pull them off.
Smith leans back onto his heels, slapping Levi’s hand away as he slides his pants and underwear smoothly over Levi’s hips. His own pants are still on, tented by his hardened and impressive cock. The bolo tie is still hanging from his neck, though a bit askew, and the light from the candles catches in the green stone.
He looks absolutely gorgeous, and Levi feels his chest tighten, so he grips at the tie, using it to pull himself up until he’s kissing Erwin again, and when Erwin runs his hands up and down his thighs, hooking them underneath to pull him closer, he can’t help the satisfied moan that escapes his throat. He can feel himself going limp and pliant under his touch, and suddenly it angers him somehow, so he jerks away.
“Stop acting like you’re going to break me, Smith.”
Erwin sighs. “I don’t think I could break you if I tried.” And he sounds sad, oddly, but he complies and roughly flips Levi onto the bed until he’s resting on his stomach, pushing his legs apart with one hand, revealing the soft skin of his perineum.
He lets his thumbs graze across the sensitive area, and Levi moans weakly, burying his head in the pillow. He lets out a broken sob when Erwin licks a long stripe from his balls to his asshole, and his cock twitches so he rolls his hips once against the mattress, to release the pressure, just a little.
Soon, Erwin’s tongue is licking at his ass, probing gently at the ring of muscle, forcing it open until he can slide his tongue inside. Levi’s ass clenches around the hot, wet tongue, mad with desire. He resists the urge to push his hips against Erwin’s mouth, instead choosing to spread his legs even more, rubbing his cock onto the sheets.
He could come like this, he thinks, but he wants more. He wants to feel Erwin's cock deep inside him; he wants to let himself be fucked senseless into the mattress until he forgets his name.
He braces himself on his elbows, turning around to look at Erwin.
“Do you have oil?” he asks, panting.
Erwin stills, and his brows furrow. “Are you sure?” He seems concerned.
“Hurry up, Smith. I don’t have all night,” Levi replies, but his tone is gentler than he intended.
Erwin nods and opens the the nightstand drawer, from where he pulls out a small bottle of oil. He quickly gets rid of his own clothes, then lets his gaze wander across Levi’s naked body, his mouth slightly open. He bends down, bracing both hands on each side of Levi’s head, and he rolls his hips, once, intently, his cock nestling between Levi’s ass cheeks. He bites his nape, teeth grazing downwards as his mouth leaves a trail of sucking bruises and bite marks all across Levi’s back. He sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of his ass, hard, and Levi cries out as he feels a finger enter him.
He's already loose from Erwin's tongue, and soon the Captain can easily slide two fingers into him, pushing them in and out, spreading him apart. Levi is a whimpering mess by then, drooling and moaning over the pillow, but he doesn't care because nothing can feel better than Erwin's thick fingers crooked deep inside of him, brushing against the bundle of nerves that has him moaning even louder.
And suddenly, it’s too much, it’s too—too intimate.
He ignores Smith's baffled stare as he straightens up on the bed, retaking control of the situation. He pushes against Smith's chest until the man is lying down on the bed, and this time, it's Levi's turn to tower over him. The ghost of a smirk is dancing on the Captain's lips, so Levi kisses him hard to wipe it from his face.
Erwin kisses back, slowly, gently, ignoring Levi’s vain attempts at biting and sucking. He cradles Levi’s face with his hands, his thumbs brushing his cheeks in slow circles, tucking his hair behind his ears as he sighs into his mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Erwin answers. “I’m just enjoying this.”
“I was under the impression that you wanted to fuck. I don’t need your tenderness or your misplaced guilt, Smith. Either get your shit together and fuck me, or I’m out of here.”
He stares him down, defiant, his whole body tense.
For a second, he thinks Smith is going to throw him out, but then he’s surging forward to kiss him harder than before, and before he has a chance to react, Smith is pinning him on the bed with the weight of his body. He reaches towards the oil, slicking himself up, and roughly bends Levi’s legs so that his knees are almost touching his ears.
Smith takes himself in hand, and he seems to hesitate for a brief instant, but then he looks down at Levi, and his face hardens. He enters him in one go, making Levi moan pitifully.
He’s rough—rougher than he’s ever been. He fucks him hard, but all the while his gaze stays away from Levi, and at some point, he even closes his eyes, turning his head away.
There’s a strange feeling in Levi’s chest—like the emptiness returned. It’s weird, because he doesn’t remember when it disappeared. He just realises now, when it’s back, that it was gone for a while, and now he feels his chest crumble, a sinking feeling in his stomach instead of the pleasure and lust he should be feeling.
He tries to chase back what he was feeling moments ago, but it’s gone, so he focuses on the hard thrusts of Erwin’s cock in and out of him, the slapping sound of their skins, the panting breath of the man.
Erwin is quiet, he notices. Quieter than normal. Usually, when they fool around, he’s all groans and moans, but now he’s just breathing hard, and his jaw is clenched.
Levi doesn’t know what comes over him, but he raises a hand, hesitantly, and cups Erwin’s face. The Captain’s eyes snap open, piercing blue meeting sharp grey, and Levi gets lost in the intensity of his stare, for a second. Erwin’s pace falters, but he’s still looking at him, so intensely Levi feels a shiver run down his spine.
He spreads his fingers across Erwin’s cheek, feeling the light stubble underneath his fingertips. Erwin leans into the touch, a broken expression on his face. It makes Levi’s heart ache, without knowing why.
“Levi…” breathes Erwin.
“Shut up,” he whimpers back. “Shut up… Just—just don’t talk.”
“Okay… okay,” agrees Erwin. He lets go of Levi’s thighs, letting them fall on each side of his hips, and Levi hooks them up around his waist. He pushes his heels down the small of Erwin’s back, and Erwin follows, burying himself deep inside Levi.
He leans forward, stopping right before his lips touch Levi’s, as if he isn’t sure he’s allowed to do that. Levi closes the space between them, gently brushing his mouth against Erwin’s warm and chapped lips. Their tongues dance against each other as they kiss, and Levi lets out a high-pitched moan as Erwin changes the way he thrusts—rolling upwards instead of forward. He hooks his hands behind his Captain’s neck, trying desperately to ground himself.
It’s useless, though—he can’t fight it any longer, so he just lets himself be taken away by the overwhelming feeling of Erwin’s cock sliding in and out of him, his moans growing louder and higher with each thrust.
He looks up at Erwin, flushed from cheeks to chest, bangs matted and a thin bead of sweat coating his forehead. He’s smiling, lightly, and Levi could almost smile back.
Their pace is growing frantic and uncoordinated as they each approach their release. Erwin's hands slide down his stomach to reach his cock, stroking him in pace with the rhythm of his hips, keeping his eyes locked to Levi's.
He wants to protest, but he’s too far gone to care.
They scream almost simultaneously, Erwin emptying his load into Levi’s ass with a harsh growl as Levi’s cock spurts across their stomachs. It’s so intense he almost blacks out, the wave of pleasure rolling over him over and over. He’s vaguely aware that Erwin collapses on him at some point, but soon the darkness engulfs him as he closes his eyes.
When he wakes up, he first notices that it’s still dark outside. It must be the middle of the night—the room is utterly silent. Everything is still, and peaceful.
He also realises that he’s wrapped up against Erwin, the man’s strong arms encircling him.
He thinks about going back to his room, but he’s surprised to notice that he doesn’t want to. He’s warm, and he feels good nestled against his Captain’s chest. Erwin is sleeping soundly, his breathing even and calm.
For the first time in a very long time, Levi doesn’t think about his friends.
He doesn’t think at all, really.
He simply closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.
And for the very first time, he sleeps all the way till morning.