Chapter Text
¡Siempre hay que aparentar la posesión de un fin! ¡Siempre el camino rectamente marcado!
—Alejandra Pizarnik, Diarios
I
No Eldian in Marley is more respected than the Captain of the Warrior Unit, Erwin Smith, and his Vice-Captain, Zeke Jaeger. The golden duo, as people call them. They have earned it the hard way over the past 28 years, ever since they joined the Cadet Unit at the same age to serve Marley’s military as eventual titan shifters. It took them a long time; losing two masterminds who helped the cause so well, so quickly, wasn’t something Marley could afford amidst the conflict with Paradis Island, not at the hands of the Curse of Ymir. Now, however, with the war won, Paradis representing a new state of the country and its population deported from the island and placed at Marley’s disposal within Liberio’s internment zone, the time has come, at last.
As two recognized Marleyans despite their Eldian blood, Erwin has already inherited the Colossal Titan, and Zeke will soon inherit the Beast.
Erwin likes to think they are finally about to have everything they always wanted. Or else Marley has them until it’s their turn to entrust their titans. Just as it has the Founding Titan, conveniently trapped for the past two years inside the young and manipulable Historia Reiss, bearer of the brilliant vow renouncing war that grants Marley all autonomy over the power of the titans.
Although everything seems glorious on the surface, a story born of the purest effort and sacrifice of the Marleyan people and their allies, the background remains despicable.
It’s also a necessary step in this long process.
To have conquered Paradis intending to regain it later, for example.
Erwin looks at his hands resting on the desk during this boring meeting with his superiors at headquarters. He has gotten too dirty with a single goal in mind, the one that was born the day they sent his father to the pre-conquest Paradis Island for being part of a resistance that planned something as idealist as freeing all Eldians from Marley’s yoke. It would be great to say such a world exists, that an easy-to-clean world is real, but no, it’s not and won’t be. He has learned it well over the years.
He never could take a step toward his goals without getting dirty. No one has.
Never.
Marley didn’t just try to indoctrinate him in exchange for Erwin surrendering his intellect and Eldian blood to the military; it thought it succeeded. For Erwin, it was as easy as answering everything with the same speech. It was Eldia’s fault; Marley is our savior. He just kept answering the same thing for years and years to gain its trust. All the while holding his actual goal, the original statement, behind everyone’s back.
To do what his father couldn’t.
He wants to free Eldians from Marley’s yoke; just like his father, he aspires to that idealist dream. But he cannot fight the system from the outside, condemned to the shadows; if he wants to be decisive, he must fight from the inside. Like a bomb, one waiting for the right moment to explode at the core. That’s the only thing he can do.
Being in the right place to shoot the right bullet at the right time, as his titan knows so well how to do. Getting his hands dirty is part of the process, sure, not much more.
Although indeed, it is much more.
He only stops looking at his hands when Commander Magath concludes the meeting. Erwin leaves, followed closely by Armin Arlert, the promising young Cadet Unit member who, if all proceeds according to plan, will take his place in the military by inheriting his titan.
Erwin smokes a cigarette on his way out. Armin talks about work, as usual.
“Also! Captain Erwin!” Armin suddenly says. He swallows hard, though he also tries not to let Erwin notice. “Sorry, I-I wanted to mention something to you.”
Erwin takes a long puff before dropping the cigarette to the ground to crush it with his leather boot. He watches Armin; he’s nervous, his hands shaking inside the pockets of his uniform coat.
Staring blankly at Liberio’s quiet streets in the middle of the sunset, he slows down to Armin’s left.
“You must speak more firmly,” Erwin replies. “We are alpha; you mustn’t forget the reputation we must keep.”
“You are right, sir. I must practice more.” Armin scratches his head; he remains nervous, clearly, but at least he’s serious enough to show Erwin he has listened and his words were, to him, what they were to Erwin as they came out of his mouth, constructive criticism meant to help him grow. “I wanted to mention a concern that I have, sir. I don’t know if it’s wise to talk to you about it, but I think anything that undermines the Warrior Unit deserves our attention.”
Interesting. Erwin has already investigated Armin; he and Hanji have been making many inquiries about him. His academic knowledge is outstanding, and he’s only 19 years old. He will be a brilliant strategist, better than he already is, with the correct guidance, one that Erwin is confident he can give him not only to serve Marley, but much more.
Erwin needs to create his successor in pursuit of his idealist dream. Creating him is part of understanding the situation, that the Anti-Marleyan Resistance will outlive him.
Knowing that Armin’s record is clean without Armin even suspecting it, also intending to bring him closer to the cause in the short term, Erwin plays his first card. It has to be one that can be implicit enough not to put at risk this resistance movement led by the Owl, his father’s former companion, that works in the shadows to recover the Founder’s power and, with it, end with the Curse of Ymir. All their work is based on the research Hanji has been carrying out for years regarding paths, how they work, and the possibilities that could allow them to break the curse.
Of course, not before vanishing the Marleyan military from the face of the earth.
“Did you come of age already, right?” he asks, despite knowing he did. Armin nods. “Let’s go. I’ll invite you a beer.”
Swallowing the shyness betrayed by his red cheeks, Armin whispers sure. He tenderly smiles as he does so.
As they walk to Erwin’s favorite tavern near Liberio’s harbor, a quiet, dark place that encourages pleasant conversations, he thinks about Armin’s peculiarities. Studying his past included studying the gossip that surrounds him. Among them, what stands out the most is everything related to his introverted personality.
Something unforgivable for alphas.
In this world of hybrid creatures with a primary gender assigned at birth and a secondary gender assigned from the so-called reproductive roles, only those born as alpha, who represent ten percent of the world’s population, can access the high commands of the military. The same occurs among Eldians aspiring to the Cadet Unit, who undergo rigorous medical tests before being accepted.
Betas, who represent most humanity and reunite over eighty percent of the population, are invisible creatures, the standard, the mass that keeps the machine working. So it is in most countries, at least, since denying that bloodline doesn’t represent another label seeking an eternal categorization would be to look at the world with naivete. That’s why, among Eldians, betas are not so lucky.
Representing not more than sheep for Marley, the latter doesn’t hesitate to use them in military operations, sometimes as foot soldiers, sometimes as monsters that, when thrown from airships as humans, turn into titans while they fall. That’s thanks to Dr. Xaver, discoverer of the syringe formula—made with spinal fluid coming from the Founding Titan—that activates the titan power with a scream.
Finally, those poor creatures called omegas, the ones who represent less than ten percent of the population, are just doomed.
Permanently.
It doesn’t matter their bloodline, their primary gender assigned at birth; their condition as omegas prevails as creatures that only serve the purpose of breeding and pleasing the alpha population. Here, the Marleyan omegas have low-wage jobs, live in poverty, receive a poor education. As a reminder that they won’t survive unless they agree to fulfill the biological function of their secondary gender, they have no way to earn a better future, not without bonding with some alpha who guides them through the right path.
Since Eldian omegas are even more miserable than those with purely Marleyan blood, to be whores is their destiny.
Marley is not explicit about this. With the growth of human rights associations and social movements around it, this nation cannot say openly they fuck Eldian omegas day and night at clandestine parties attended by alpha men of high rank, of a good surname. Hence, it disguises them as domestic workers who belong to the alpha without the alpha bonding with them. Every domestic worker, thus, is nothing more than an omega well-educated to open their legs before all the alphas.
All except Erwin.
According to unreliable studies, personality has a lot to do with the secondary genre to which one belongs. That’s why Erwin feels sympathy for Armin—they don’t fit in what Marleyan society considers a decent alpha. In Armin’s case, it’s because of his introversion commented through the hallways. In Erwin’s case, it’s because of his no interest in sex.
He knows Armin takes rut suppressants. They are the same ones Erwin takes. Both share this knowledge-focused lust that for nothing yearns to stray into more mundane pleasures. But at least Erwin has the character, or else pretends well he does.
If they want to survive, it’s not enough to wear these spotless uniforms that make them decent Eldians in the eyes of Marleyan society despite the armbands they always wear. They need to be the alphas society expects them to be. Erwin had a hard time. He had to work hard to toughen his character, but he could. Armin, too, he knows.
Hopefully, if Hanji is right, he can do even more.
“I hope you like this beer,” Erwin says as he opens the door to the dark harbor tavern.
They enter and sit in an intimate corner toward the back of the roomy place. Only when they have both beers on the table, Armin turns the small talk they share to what concerns him.
“Mr. Zeke has been very… distracted lately, sir,” Armin says. While his shyness shows, Erwin, who has been learning to read the young man he aspires to become his successor for years, notices his certainty. Armin takes a long drink before continuing; perhaps it helps him to disinhibit. “Since Paradis’ conquest eight years ago—and just like so many alpha men since then—he focuses too much on omega parties and the excesses they bring. They have distracted him from his duties. He pays little attention to our superiors and stays behind with work. I worry about what losing to vice such a mind might mean for the Warrior Unit.”
Excellent. Erwin smiles behind his mug of beer. It’s just what Hanji predicted.
Armin looks ready to join the resistance.
“And in what way do you think it might harm us?” Erwin asks calmly, gazing with disturbing persistence at his interlocutor.
Armin struggles to hold his gaze. To Erwin’s satisfaction, he succeeds.
“As Vice-Captain of the Warrior Unit, Mr. Zeke has achieved countless victories alongside you; these victories have put the Warrior Unit in a respectable position within the military, which has helped us feel not so much like outsiders for being Eldians. While you are a man more than capable of keeping victory on Marley’s side, losing a brain like Mr. Zeke’s and allowing his terrible reputation to stain us, perhaps unintentionally could compromise our position.”
Erwin nods.
“What do you think we should do?”
Armin continues to hold his gaze; he knows Erwin is testing him.
“We should remove him from his position.”
“But with so many victories… In what way would it be wise to remove him?”
“We can court-martial him. Although… this might be too noisy. It will affect our reputation, even if that’s not our goal.”
“Then?”
Armin blinks too quickly, considering possibilities. Finally, his eyelids relax after another drink.
“We should let him… lose himself in the vice until he harms himself by himself… And then…”
“You could replace him after my recommendation.”
Armin clenches his fists on the table.
“With your guidance, sir, I could do it.”
Erwin nods. It sounds good; however, it’s not good enough.
“And what makes you think you could be as good as him? What ambitions could allow you to get that far, Armin Arlert?”
Armin no longer clenches his fists; he digs his fingers into the wooden table, side and side of his half-drunk beer.
His pupils widen before Erwin; they are like cannons as he aims them at him.
“Our people deserve a fine treatment, sir,” he whispers. There’s a fierce, infrequent tone in his voice; it’s sincerity. “Whether alpha, beta, or omega… All of…”
“Eldians…”
“Deserve to free themselves from Marleyan military’s yoke.”
Erwin smiles. He’s sober in doing so, but he knows he needs no more to prove Armin he has already passed part of the test.
“What are you offering me?”
Because that’s the second part; Armin cannot aspire to join them without giving something in return. That’s the way the resistance has been working since its birth. He’s confident that Armin has informed himself well before playing his card.
He did.
Armin shows it by finishing his beer and relaxing on the seat. Although nervous and alert, he finally looks comfortable.
“A weapon that could be useful for the cause.”
“What kind of weapon?”
“A different type of Eldian omega.”
Curious, Erwin takes a swig of beer before continuing to inquire.
“What kind of omega is it?”
The index finger of Armin’s right hand draws letters on the table; it does so with enviable subtlety. Erwin reads what the finger writes.
Ackerman.
Reading that name dilates his pupils; he doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know that’s happening to him, that his pupils are trying to escape from his eyes. Such is the surprise before this offer and regarding what.
The Eldian legends.
The real demons, according to ancient scriptures.
The best card.
“Let’s get out of here,” Erwin says, enthusiastic in the deepest part of his being, before finishing his beer in one long gulp to ask for the bill.
*
The resistance’s meetings can never last over fifteen minutes and can never include over three Eldian alphas. They must take place in an abandoned factory west of Liberio, well inside the internment zone in which they live.
There they meet after arriving at different times. Today only Hanji, the future Jaw Titan, and Nanaba, the current Female Titan, accompany him. Mike, the Armored Titan, and Eldians with high-ranking positions within the Public Security Authorities will eventually learn what Erwin tells his comrades in the most concise way possible.
“Arlert’s contact is Ice Queen, his childhood friend since they lived on Paradis Island before the conquest. That’s saying, Mikasa Ackerman’s code name, the number one spy in Marley’s military around whom many speculations of dubious provenance revolve. Marley gave her a secret mission, scour clandestine omega parties held in upper class residences to search for possible Ackermans amid omegas brought here after conquering Paradis Island; she had no more details than that. After two months, Mikasa found one male omega from her clan serving a military man as a maid. Thanks to her contacts, she could get the omega a doctor, who found out he’s fertile—from the beginning, it was obvious what Marley wanted from him. That’s why Mikasa and Armin, against Marley after that mission, agreed to use him to secure their admission to the resistance, Mikasa as an informant and Armin as a cooperator, at least initially.”
“And who owns the omega?” Hanji asks.
Erwin remains silent. Just for a second that inside him feels like days, weeks.
“Zeke.” Erwin breathes out all the air he held without realizing it. Unforgivable. “He bought him a year ago from his previous owner, an omega dealer who trains them to obey and serve, who enjoys an excellent reputation among his clients. His omegas are among the most docile and beautiful on the illegal market.”
Hanji and Nanaba don’t hide their surprise. Erwin doesn’t dwell on it; he must make the most of every second.
Do it, and overlook how aberrant this well-known secret is, knowing they treat Eldian omegas like sheep and everyone has it naturalized.
Even them.
“Levi, such is his name, told Mikasa he’s willing to do anything to destroy Marley. You were part of the team that studied Mikasa’s case, Hanji.”
“I was.”
“What useful details can you give us?”
Hanji puts their hands in their pockets. The creepy smile they grimace lets one see how much this topic excites them.
“I’ll sum it up as best I can,” they say. “As you know, Erwin, when the Warrior Unit conquered Paradis Island eight years ago under your command, Marley emptied the island of Eldians, cataloged them, and distributed them within Liberio’s internment zone. Among them, they came across this alpha orphan named Mikasa Ackerman, 11 years old. After different studies, our team within the Titan Biology Research Society determined she was a real Ackerman; not being able to turn her into a titan allowed us to confirm it.”
“An Eldian that can’t turn into a titan? How is that possible?” Nanaba asks, whose curiosity only externalizes the one Erwin feels as he looks at Hanji silently, holding back the smile that knowledge always paints on his face.
Hanji quickly explains what they shared with both him and the Owl for joining the resistance four years ago now, confidential information related to the Ackerman Clan that only the three of them have handled within their movement to this day.
That the Fritz family had a Royal Guard to whom—according to what the Titan Biology Research Society presumes—the Founding Titan gave unique characteristics. Aside from being unable to be turned into titans, there was another one.
To be titans in human form.
The tenth titan, as ancient scriptures called them. That’s the Ackerman Clan.
Demons who share paths as unique as themselves. Ones that allow them to inherit their ancestors’ full power.
There’s a problem, though, as far as he knows.
“How do they inherit their power?” Erwin asks.
“An awakening,” Hanji explains. “Basically, something awakens inside them and allows them to learn all the battle knowledge of their ancestors in a second. Seven years ago, I was part of the operation that attempted to determine how to awaken Mikasa’s hidden power. To be part of the experiment, I had to research other cases. That was difficult, given the lack of studies.” Hanji pulls out a sheet of paper folded at least three times from the inside pocket of their coat, crumpled and handwritten. They give it to him. “Read it; it was the only thing we could work with.”
Nanaba leans in behind Erwin, and they both read the sheet. This one, written in Dr. Xaver’s handwriting—leader of Operation Ice Queen—summarizes an experiment done thirty years ago.
Three descendants of the Ackerman Clan lost on Liberio’s streets of whom Marley didn’t know—it considered them a myth until then—were the chosen ones for experiments; two female alphas and one male omega. Unable to turn them into titans, they stipulated a hypothesis.
They are members of the legendary Ackerman Clan.
Based on this hypothesis, they tried to awaken them. To do that, scientists gave them a drug that had no effect, so they tortured them for months. The alphas and the omega only awakened once they forbid them to take rut and heat suppressants.
So they responded positively to torture only during the mating season.
The two alphas had no problem to respond the authorities and placing themselves at Marley’s disposal, although their advanced age didn’t allow them to serve for long. They didn’t show their full potential, either. They also couldn’t have children.
On the other hand, the omega was on the verge of death when he went into heat. An alpha from the military could bond with him in order not to let him die, but once his power awakened after being reclaimed by the alpha, he obeyed no one else from then on. When that alpha betrayed Marley for owning such a powerful weapon, Marley executed both of them. They never got to have children.
Erwin stares at the last few paragraphs, his brow furrowed, his mind overstimulated.
“What does it mean that they responded to the authorities and the alpha? Why is it relevant?”
Erwin holds out the sheet to Hanji; they hold it folded between their hands.
“The Ackerman Clan protected the royal family. The Founding Titan designed their nature to make the instinct to protect their masters dominate them regardless of their secondary gender and the characteristics it gives each hybrid. According to ancient scriptures, there are no betas within this clan, only alphas and omegas. The alphas, the vast majority in the clan, could choose to serve and be part of the Royal Guard; the mission of the few omegas was to give birth, nothing else. But they had the same hidden power and the same protective instinct. That’s why, probably by the decision of the Founding Titan, their omega’s nature only allowed them to protect their alpha in case they had one. Also, which is the most problematic thinking of Levi, they can only awaken their power upon being marked, not before.”
Erwin feels a chill, one that goes down, goes up, and inserts itself inside his head.
“They cannot awaken their hidden power without bonding with an alpha,” he concludes in a whisper.
“Precisely,” Hanji states. “As you might guess, if this power were to fall into the wrong hands, it would represent a menace to Marley. According to the Owl, the military has concluded it after the success of Operation Ice Queen, which awakened Mikasa three years ago during her first rut. Mikasa beat the odds: thanks to her spy work and all the people she murdered in Marley’s name, the victory in the Middle East a year ago was possible.”
They also decorated Mikasa for it. Without her, Erwin and Zeke’s strategy would have been worthless. Few know her; Mikasa spends most of the time hidden in the shadows.
Armin Arlert has got them a jewel.
Two, actually. But it won’t be that simple, not with such a problematic detail involved.
Not knowing what that means.
“They analyzed all the Eldians brought back from Paradis,” he says. “Why didn’t they notice this omega earlier?”
Hanji looks at the ceiling, thoughtful.
“You know why,” they reply. “When a blood test determines someone is an omega, nothing else matters. Probably not studying omegas in depth was their mistake. Also, I’m guessing this Ackerman had another last name or no last name at all. That might have helped him slip through the cracks, too.”
Erwin nods. That’s what Armin told him, that Levi has no last name in the records.
“So that’s why they’re looking for an omega,” Nanaba concludes. “Now that they know how useful the Ackerman Clan can be, they want—” She remains silent, horrified.
“Exactly,” Hanji says; the bitterness covering their face says more than their words. “Mikasa is the only Ackerman they have, and as happens with some female-born alphas, she’s infertile in every sense. So they need an omega who gives birth to more Ackermans who will obey the military.”
They will use Levi and force him to bear children, one after the other, until the end; that’s what they will do.
Erwin stands up from the crate he’s sitting on in this dark room, tucked away in the abandoned factory. They only have a couple of minutes left.
“In short,” he exclaims, “an alpha representing the resistance must bond with Levi before a high-ranking officer of Marley’s military does.”
“That’s right, Erwin,” Hanji answers, folding the sheet of paper to bury it in their pocket. They stand up as well. “If we want to awaken and recruit Levi, he must bond with an alpha who’s on our side. I can recreate the syringe used to awaken Mikasa Ackerman from the Founder’s spinal fluid. We take samples every week; it won’t be difficult. This syringe will allow Levi to reach the Ackerman paths. He must go into heat, of course; only during heat and only after being marked will the syringe work. Failure to do so could kill the omega, something we can’t allow under any circumstances.” Hanji heads for the door; it’s their turn to leave first today. “Tell the Owl; we must act quickly.”
The meeting ends immediately afterward. Erwin is the second to leave. As he walks towards his house, in the wealthiest part of the internment zone, he analyzes the situation.
Levi, Zeke’s maid. He has heard of him; Zeke never tires of describing how he fucks him every night. However, he has reasons not to trust Zeke’s word.
He won’t tell the resistance that, though, at least for now.
It’s too mundane.
According to Armin, Levi accepted cooperating in exchange for being allowed to kill Zeke. It would have to be within the next three months from now, when Dr. Xaver, the current Beast Titan, has to inherit his power after 13 years. If this Levi reaches his ancestors through their Ackerman paths, killing him would be as easy as breathing.
Considering that Zeke and Xaver have their resistance, one with very different aspirations from the Owl’s, killing Zeke Jaeger before he inherits the titan is a top priority. The rest will be inevitable.
They cannot miss this opportunity to remove such a troublesome obstacle from the middle. However, because of how relevant it’s for Eldian alphas to fit in, everyone in the resistance bonded with an omega.
All but one.
At midnight, Erwin talks with the Owl via the telephone line hidden in his basement. He already knows what the Owl will tell him after explaining the situation.
“It has to be the Eagle,” he tells him in code. “He’s the only one who can do it.”
Erwin, as the only alpha without an omega in the resistance, must bond with Levi.
Even though he knew the Owl would tell him that, Erwin only needs to listen to him to feel something inside him crumble, covering his lungs and squeezing them.
“But—”
“The Eagle; no one else qualifies,” the Owl emphasizes. “I will hear no objections.”
Erwin whispers a yes, sir just before hanging up.
*
He hates sex. Rather, he doesn’t hate it, but it bothers him. No wonder considering sex doesn’t allow him to keep control over himself.
Losing that control is what he hates, more likely.
That’s why he takes suppressants. Since he was 15, he has always stayed as far from sex as possible. Unless, for medical reasons, he has to go into a rut for the sake of his health. Besides, his isolated nature forbids him from the very idea of having a dependent creature tied to him forever.
To think that he will have to bond with this Levi, fuck him for days, knot him, mark him—
Use him like Marley wants to do.
The very idea disgusts him.
The next few days, he tries hard not to think about it.
As he meets with Zeke to continue discussing how Marley will invade the weakened nation of Hizuru, he tries very hard not to give away the supreme discomfort that fills him every time he hears the Owl’s voice inside his head. Despite his efforts, trying to hide it’s worthless.
Zeke can read him; that’s always a problem. For both of them, it always has been.
“You look overwhelmed, Erwin. What’s wrong?” Zeke stands up from his chair and points at the door with a thumb. “Do you want to go out for a smoke?”
“Sure,” Erwin agrees as he thinks of what to say at full speed.
As they walk to the terrace of Marley’s headquarters, Erwin, hands in his pockets, gives Zeke a sidelong glance. Marley also sent his parents to Paradis Island before the conquest; like Erwin’s father himself, they spent the rest of their days walking the island as titans. That shared past brought them together as children, made them close, solidified their trust as they grew up so stained before the world, so broken inside.
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to think about what he has to do besides bond with the omega.
Eliminate him.
But no, he repeats himself like so many other times; he always knew this moment would come, ever since he joined the resistance, more so knowing that Zeke belonged to another one. To make prevail their bond to keep his hands a little cleaner is unrealistic. Everyone in the resistance is giving their best for the cause.
He cannot fail them. Neither to them nor his father’s memory, the one thing that, in moments of doubt, it encourages him enough.
But Zeke. Zeke, for fuck’s sake. He has been there for as long as he can remember. They have always leaned on each other to endure the humiliation, the constant psychological abuse, the shit that Marley will never tire of rubbing through their faces. Because maybe it’s true that Marley has won countless battles thanks to them, but they will always be outsiders. They will never be Marleyan enough, not even being alphas.
Bloodline will always be the most relevant label for those who dare to dream in a country as purist as this one.
Zeke has royal blood; he knows it because Zeke confessed so to him. Zeke has also tried to convince him to give him a hand with his euthanasia plan, which he detailed comma by comma; Erwin only promised him he wouldn’t interfere. Most of all, Zeke has tried to take him to bed. He has done so countless times.
Erwin never agreed.
He cannot say he’s not attracted to Zeke; nothing about him particularly displeases him. But he cannot jeopardize his position within the military for a brief, insignificant fuck. Nothing in Marley’s military is more wrong than the idea of two alphas fucking.
Nothing is more disgusting for them, especially among the Eldian alphas.
It’s a crime for which they may condemn him to entrust his titan prematurely. He knows it well; it was just what happened to the previous Colossal Titan, Bertolt Hoover, caught fucking another alpha, the Armored, Reiner Braun. For mere, useless desire, they had to give up their titans three years earlier than planned, all so that he and Mike could inherit them.
Pretty absurd. What’s wrong with that? Why is it so aberrant? It’s about bodies, about pleasure. It’s not that deep. But he won’t put himself at risk for sex.
Sex doesn’t deserve that much. Not something over one’s reputation and how well Erwin has to take care of it to work in the revolution.
With that in mind, while smoking with Zeke on the terrace, Erwin understands he must start playing his cards once again.
Even if he finds it hard, even if the shared past tightens his chest, he must do it.
“I’m a little concerned,” he confesses between puffs. “A lot of gossip.”
Zeke gazes at the sunset to his right as he holds the smoke inside his mouth.
“Because of your aversion to sex? Are they still going on about that?”
“That’s right.”
“You know you should take an omega soon, right? The rumors could give you problems. Or at least you should, well, I don’t know, buy a maid and pretend to fuck them.”
Which Zeke himself, owner of five maids and the person who hates sex the most in this world, does.
Zeke is just pretending; Erwin knows it more than anyone. He attends these omega parties to pretend to be one of them, nothing else. It’s incredible how much Zeke worries about fitting in. How much insecurity he expresses by trying so hard. His success is also remarkable; thanks to the omega parties, Zeke keeps up relationships with some of the most exclusive in the military. He rubs shoulders with bigwigs because of it.
It’s an excellent strategy to achieve his goal, to prevent the Eldians from continuing to exist.
Zeke is moving better than him, and Erwin is just underestimating him.
Although Armin is right about something—Zeke has been neglecting his work for some time now by going from party to party. He has even gone from two maids to five in less than a year.
Why? Not understanding exasperates him; having no control over it could be a problem if he wants to eliminate him.
Too many problems. Not enough solutions.
Just one. That one Erwin doesn’t want to allow in the deepest part of his being.
“Besides,” Erwin adds with a nod, “It’s going to be three years from my last rut.”
Zeke frowns. With confidence, he holds his shoulder after stubbing out his cigarette.
“That’s the limit, Erwin. One year is the best for us and the limit is three. You can’t keep suppressing your rut. You need to allow it as soon as possible for the sake of your reproductive health.”
Zeke’s hand squeezes his shoulder. The gaze, despite Erwin not returning it, is insistent, penetrating. The hand moves slowly over his shoulder.
“You know we can’t,” Erwin mutters as he lets go with the excuse to throw his nearly consumed cigarette far away from him.
Zeke coughs and holds the railing. Erwin notices, watching his hands, how he squeezes it.
“I know,” Zeke replies. He squeezes the railing one last time before taking a deep breath; he’s looking to calm down. “Erwin, I’ll be attending an omega party on Saturday. It will be in General Calvi’s honor for his birthday. Come and choose one of my maids; I will bring them especially for you. What’s more! I’ll give you the omega you choose as a present for your next rut; that will help with the gossip. What do you say?”
Exactly what he wanted, though Erwin wasn’t sure he could succeed. Showing Zeke that he’s too cautious about these things and buying a maid from a stranger it’s something impossible for him.
Telling him, without words, he needed his help.
Satisfied, Erwin nods, content. Inwardly, the smile he holds back battles against the shivering he senses in the epicenter of his heart. The one that should have given up by now, more so considering the stains all over his being.
Can he eliminate the person who has always been there for him when he thought he could trust no one else? Can he give Zeke to his future omega so this one can kill him?
Can he bind an omega to him just to keep Marley from doing it first?
*
Marley’s upper class has always organized omega parties. However, they only became popular after conquering Paradis Island. Celebrated in hidden residences outside Liberio’s internment zone, in purely Marleyan territory, one can only request an invitation for two requirements.
First, one needs to have a good family name, be in the military—preferably in a high ranking—or both. These are mandatory.
Second, one has to own omegas to offer.
In case of not fulfilling the second requirement—like Erwin, who doesn’t own omegas—the alpha has to be a guest of another one. The latter fulfills that condition on the other’s behalf.
Like Zeke, who for inviting him and Armin will offer five omegas, all of his maids, for all alphas present to enjoy.
While those are the only conditions, there are also others, though implied. Sex assigned at birth is one; female-born alphas are not usually welcome at these parties. Unless they are as respectable as Mikasa Ackerman, it’s hard for them to be accepted. Bloodline is also an issue, of course.
It always is, everywhere, all the time.
Today’s party is at an exclusive gentlemen’s club hidden in the commercial district. Erwin insisted on attending with Armin. It was the right thing to do, no more and no less, to pretend a little.
It’s also a proper opportunity to test Armin’s loyalty, which Armin himself accepted, of course.
“S-Sir—” Armin whispers in the passenger seat as Erwin drives. One can tell he’s anxious. “I never came to one of these parties,” he confesses. “Besides, I have never—” His red cheeks say the rest.
“When did you have your first rut?” Erwin asks him, eyes locked on the road.
“Two and a half years ago, sir.”
“How did you control it?”
“They injected me with an emergency suppressant.”
“I see.” Erwin lights a cigarette and holds it between his fingers at the edge of the pilot’s window. It was the same thing they did to him when he noticed the symptoms of his first rut at 15. “You’ll have to consider leaving the suppressants a few months from now, okay? I know the first time is a little intimidating, but I’ll give you a hand with it. We’ll find an omega for you.”
Armin takes a deep breath, though he ends up coughing at the end.
“I hate it, sir. I hate it…”
Erwin nods. Having such uncontrollable needs is a pain in the ass, indeed.
“I feel you,” he merely says as he smokes. “I know today will be hard for both of us, but I’m asking you to pretend as best you can. There will be lots of bigwigs watching us. I’ll cover for you as best I can, but I’ll leave you after finding Levi.” Just saying it makes his mind get out of control. Dammit. “You must take care of yourself.”
“Yes, sir.” Armin settles back over the seat. “I’ll do my best.”
They arrive shortly after, their uniforms pristine, but always with the armbands identifying them as demons, Erwin’s red, Armin’s yellow. They enter what, from the outside, looks like an upper-class residence lost in the middle of a city that’s reflecting incipient technological advances after decades of industrialization. As they go down through a spiral staircase to the right of the door, an underworld opens up before their eyes. It’s a vast and divinely decorated room in a certain old-fashioned way, as well as reflected by the predominant baroque-like design. It highlights the wood of nine tables scattered throughout the main room, the red curtains covering what looks like windows leading to an interior garden—which doesn’t seem to be the case—, the dim golden lights coming from oil lamps, the smoke.
Lots and lots of smoke.
But not even the smoke from cigarettes and opium can cover this smell. The smell Erwin avoids every day and every night, one he had been avoiding for months now.
Omega’s scent. More intolerable than smoke, deeper and more penetrating.
Unbearable.
He swallows, certainly irritated; this scent always brings out the worst inside him. He has taken half suppressant and not one today; it was the right thing to do to be up to the task.
His entire skin gets goosebumps—too many omegas. They are not even present, but he knows they are everywhere.
Next to him, Armin is pale and sweating.
“Easy,” Erwin whispers to him and himself, too. “Keep up appearances.” Armin nods.
Only then, they move forward.
General Calvi is at the table in the middle of the room, circular like all the others and covered by a fine red silk tablecloth, surrounded by other alphas with important last names in the military. He drinks brandy, smokes, keeps a sneer on his face as he watches them from afar. The looks from the rest are no less.
Even if they are alpha, they will always be Eldian, indeed.
A voice calls him; it’s Zeke, of course, sitting alone in front of a round table in the most hidden corner of the location. Erwin sits to his right, and Armin does so next to him. Erwin immediately starts smoking at the sight of the glass ashtray on the tablecloth.
“Why are there no omegas?” he asks after a bit of small talk.
“I can tell you have not been here for one of these in a long time!” Zeke also lights up a cigarette. Armin looks feverish, almost. The scent is too strong for an alpha who has never had sex. “Omegas come after midnight with their special wardrobe, remember?”
Just hearing that reminds Erwin why he hates these things, among infinite other reasons.
He finds this omega fetish disgusting. Surely they will come dressed in suggestive outfits too small to be comfortable; or else they will come naked, perhaps with a garter belt and not much else.
“Don’t worry,” Zeke whispers over his ear. Just feeling his breath irritates him almost as much as the scent, the smoke, being here, per se. “I know you don’t like those things; my maids will come in their uniform. They look slutty enough like that, if you ask me. It doesn’t take much more.”
Erwin nods; it’s what he must do, no more, no less. Armin does, too.
It’s their turn to fit in, whether they like it.
There’s a pianist somewhere near them; Erwin doesn’t know where they are, nor does he feel like finding out, not when he can barely distinguish what kind of melody they are playing. He never goes out, never frequents places like this one, especially at night. He’s too dizzy to pay attention.
The scent is—
After two glasses of wine and a chat with Zeke, in which Zeke brags about all the fucks Erwin knows he’s making up in his mind to pretend to be a decent alpha, the moment to surprise General Calvi begins when the clock reaches midnight. To the general’s table come ten omegas completely naked, though wearing high heels and necklaces of artificial pearls that cover nothing. Between 18 and 22 years old, they are too young. They all look so fragile; they move so delicately.
All of them are so beautiful.
Calvi looks at them, one by one. He picks out a boy and two girls and disappears behind a curtain on the sides.
“Behind each curtain, there’s a private room. You can go fuck there; each guest has one previously assigned. The servers will guide you… Oh! Finally,” Zeke adds, looking past him.
Five maids walk to the table, all five dressed the same. Black dress, white collar, white sleeves, black heels, dark nylon stockings; they wear neither an apron nor headpiece—it would be absurd in such a place.
Almost brought back from the last century, they are five beautiful maids who don’t need to be naked to arouse all kinds of fantasies.
Five precious, lovely omegas whom Erwin cannot bear to smell nor look in the eye; that’s what they are.
Poor creatures of unbearable scent. Of blinding beauty.
Armin touches his hand under the table. As previously agreed, he would point at Levi by touching his hand a certain number of times, always counting from the right. Erwin moves from maid to maid until he reaches the fourth one, in which Armin stops.
It’s as if a path opens up amidst the fog that shapes the prevailing smoke. That’s how abrupt it’s looking into the eyes. Paralyzed, Erwin pretends not to feel the shivers that, with unforgivable simplicity, take over his entire skin, every corner, mind, and emotions, everything.
He’s perfect.
Levi is the shortest of the five maids. Even if it’s impossible to explain, he stands out. His short stature and the paleness of his skin contrast wonderfully with the short black hair partially covering his forehead. His round cheeks and mysterious gray eyes—showing some exhaustion that has no chance against his undeniable beauty—contrast the same.
His manners are more elegant than his coworkers’; he has another attitude, another vibe. He looks as docile as any omega, also subtly androgynous because of his thinness, as he holds his hands before his belly, legs together, back straight.
Perfect, indeed. There’s no other word.
Erwin has avoided thinking about Levi for all these days. His presence reminds him it’s true; the Owl gave him that order and no other. What Erwin didn’t see coming was that Levi was such a creature. So in line with his preferences, the same he never likes to explore.
Or is it the lack of the other half of the suppressant? Maybe it’s the lack of it, but he swears it’s not, that it’s not because of that.
It’s because Levi is the kind of person who usually gets his attention. A beautiful omega with docile eyes.
In the end, he’s not much better than all the surrounding pigs.
Erwin disappoints himself at the thought. No, he’s no different from them. Even if he wants to pretend intellectual superiority, even if he wants to show he has another value, all is a lie.
He’s still an alpha. Eldian, sure, but alpha. One who’s addicted to lying to himself to prevail.
“Wow, Erwin. You didn’t take long at all to choose.” Zeke laughs as he rubs his shoulder after patting it three times; he’s being as fake as when he was talking about the pretended fucks. “Levi, you will escort Erwin Smith tonight. Do it like my best friend deserves; give your best,” he orders as he pats Erwin’s shoulder one more time. “Armin, you stay with the rest and be a man for once and for all while I take Colt.” Zeke stands up and approaches the fifth maid, who holds his hand. The young man, blond, tall, and gorgeous, it’s like looking into a mirror from the past. His taste is more obvious than he thinks. “See you guys later.”
Next to Colt, Zeke approaches another table; the place is full of omegas, some naked, some wearing tiny dresses, all filling the space with their sweet, unbearable scent. After greeting a couple of high-ranking military men who are not as intolerant toward Eldians as Calvi, he chats with them while groping Colt’s ass impudently before taking two other omegas—one brunette-haired, the other red-haired—with him by circling the table, all to disappear behind his assigned private room, to which a server who probably is a Marleyan beta guides him.
Erwin can almost picture him watching the omegas having a good time while he just smokes without paying them any attention.
It’s not possible for Zeke to be with another alpha. The alpha he has loved since childhood doesn’t feel the same. The only thing that makes sense in his life is a future in which euthanasia prevents any more Eldians from coming into existence. What he would have liked for himself because of the deep traumas he carries related to his father, never have been born into this world.
It’s sad.
Zeke’s intellect deserves so much more. It does.
If only Erwin could conv—
Armin’s hand brings him back to reality. They look at each other as three of Zeke’s omegas sit in front of Armin, cross-legged and straight-backed, perfectly trained to look beautiful and show good manners. Levi is the only one who doesn’t sit.
He still stands in front of the table, waiting. Straight, hands in front of his belly, he waits for instructions with docile eyes.
Dull.
Erwin thinks about the Owl’s order, echoes his words to himself repeatedly.
Zeke has already chosen his fate; Erwin has no right to interfere. They are not on the same side; he’s just another enemy to defeat.
Levi is perfect and will be his omega. His.
No one else’s.
His!
He has to do it.
“Take the three of them with you and ask them to have fun with each other. Don’t look and try to take a potent drink with you. Trust me,” Erwin whispers to Armin before standing up, staring at Levi and gesturing him towards the private rooms.
He moves forward; Levi immediately follows.
They walk through the smoke, Erwin in front and Levi behind; his scent is intoxicating, so much so that Erwin doesn’t even tolerate the idea of letting him walk beside him. It’s as deep as the scent of a rose, but there’s something bitter about it, like the darkest chocolate. The idea conveys to him the same elegance that Levi boasts—perhaps unwittingly—as he walks behind him without Erwin taking his eyes off his out of the corner of his eye.
The same server who spoke to Zeke tells him which room he can occupy with the omega; it’s one in the corner to the northeast of Calvi’s table. He doesn’t find it curious they assigned Zeke another corner.
No one wants to have Eldian alphas around.
Erwin opens the curtain and invites Levi in with another gesture of his head; he hasn’t spoken to him yet. Levi only glances at him for a moment before stepping into the private room, to which Erwin only pays attention as he closes the curtain in obsessive detail, disgusted to find himself separated from the rest by only a cloth.
He inhales more deeply than necessary as he sees Levi walk in front of him.
Unconsciously.
Impressed, he blinks at the place. He had thought of something much smaller; it’s a room that keeps the old-fashioned decoration of the outside, red walls and oil lamps delivering a warm sensation that Levi’s scent of roses and dark chocolate accompanies. It’s intimate; the spotless bed on the right is, so is the divan in front of it, joined by a small table on which there’s a bottle of red wine and two glasses waiting for them.
“Sit on the divan,” Erwin says.
“Yes, sir,” Levi answers immediately. His voice is a suffocated whisper of incalculable sensuality.
Unbearable as his scent is.
Still, in front of the closed curtain, Erwin studies Levi, analyzes every damn gesture. Just to think that from tomorrow he will be his maid, that he will see this creature of mysterious elegance cleaning his house, washing his clothes, cooking for him every night—
Welcoming his cock inside his body, Erwin thrusting roughly against his ass.
When he realizes that he’s breathing hot air, Erwin sits to Levi’s right, who awaits instructions sitting cross-legged, just like his coworkers before Armin. He holds his knees with his hands.
Having him so close only irritates Erwin more. But no, he tells himself; it’s not Levi’s fault.
It’s his fault for being so reluctant about this part of his mission.
For being a coward who also serves as a god of destruction every time he turns into a titan.
What a contradiction.
“The ice-eyed queen said that…” he recites in code the sentence that Armin—in direct contact with Mikasa, the only person Levi has contact with—told him was safe to engage in this conversation.
Levi’s eyes, gray as two moons in the middle of the night, open abruptly. Dilated pupils watch Erwin, dumbfounded.
“The demon should hold the eagle’s wings without hesitation…” Levi whispers the rest of the sentence.
It’s him.
Levi will be his omega, and after killing Zeke Jaeger, the resistance’s secret weapon.
Erwin breathes out, swallows, blinks rapidly. Levi’s hands shake subtly, one squeezing the other. The scent shouldn’t affect him so much, but living his sex life in eternal denial has made him overly sensitive to every phenomenon his alpha senses recognize as omega.
Levi is unbearable now, with so many people out there, with so little intimacy. What will it be like when he goes into heat? How far will this scent go inside Erwin’s brain?
The omega is too close; Erwin has lived without sex for years. Just looking at his pink lips parted before him, releasing that breath that smells like his scent, makes Erwin’s world shatter into a thousand pieces.
He knows he has to get closer, that he has to whisper what’s next. He does, and the mere curve of his neck, and the gland of his latent scent, and the skin so soft to the sight, everything he cannot tolerate looking at begs him to do what he does, bite his lip to hold back.
Against Levi’s ear, hating himself as he notices his own lips quivering, Erwin says that thing he has been rehearsing all fucking day.
“Tomorrow, you will move into my house and be my maid. We will negotiate the rest then since we cannot talk here; now we can only pretend not to arouse suspicions. Do you agree? Or would you prefer to do something else?”
Levi gasps; the way he shudders is hypnotic. It’s just a gesture, for fuck’s sake, a little, almost imperceptible one.
It’s too much for his cock, already hardening.
“Of course, sir; I’m ready.” Levi swallows; something in the gaze he has locked on the wall intrigues Erwin. It’s like an optical illusion; he looks moved, he looks tired, he looks like something else that Erwin’s mind cannot decode. “Do you want me to undress, or do you want me to lift my skirt?”
Too honest, straight to the point. Erwin looks down at his uniform; the scent not only makes him dizzy but also numbs his limbs. Beneath his clothes, a burning sensation covers his skin.
“Lift your skirt.” He looks toward the bed. On the single nightstand, he sees a bottle of lube. “Take the lube and wait for me on all fours on the foot of the bed, your ass facing me. Take off your underwear, nothing else.”
What kind of formality is he describing? Why so coldly? It’s business, after all; what will bring them together is a big deal called destroying Marley.
Levi just shows him he understood the situation much better than he did.
Like Zeke. Like everyone except him.
“Understood,” Levi replies as he stands up.
The way he walks to the bed makes Erwin’s erection get completely hard. Fortunately, the suppressant he took today is present in his system; if he hadn’t taken it, this scent would be enough to wake up the most violent rut of his life. The last time, Erwin remembers, he had sex for five days with Commander Magath’s maid, an omega named Marie. Erwin couldn’t stop coming; Marie, in heat, couldn’t stop riding him.
Just thinking about his cock inside one body, wrapped by another body, squeezed by another body—
Just watching Levi walk awakens instincts inside him that no suppressant could hold back.
He wants to eat him alive; something about the very idea not only turns him on but also scares him.
How much is he capable of for this mission?
He stands up when the erection becomes unbearable. As he does so, he sees how Levi, with beautiful and neat gestures worthy of a fine, clean person, pulls down the black panties he’s wearing, leaves them on the floor, and climbs onto the bed to get on all fours. In his hands, he carries the lube, which he drops on his right side. He doesn’t lift his skirt.
Just the sight of his ass standing and the curve of his back so noticeable under his uniform is enough to make Erwin need to unzip his pants after unbuttoning his coat.
He approaches with shaky legs. Levi, who senses his scent as much as he does for sure, breathes a little harder, a little deeper.
“Did you take any suppressant today?” Erwin asks as he stands behind his ass. He pulls down his pants with no solemnity.
Levi shivers some more.
“When there’s an omega party, our masters ask us not to take the daily pill. While we don’t go into heat because of it and are therefore not fertile, we are more sensitive to the scents of nearby alphas.”
Levi feels exactly like him.
Something about the idea is devastating, though Erwin doesn’t know what it is.
Unable to think about it, he looks from his waist down—he hasn’t even taken off his coat or armband. He doesn’t need to do more than that to fulfill this formality, after all.
Because it’s true, this is a formality that only celebrates a deal between two future comrades.
Nothing else. Nothing else at all.
“Lift your skirt,” Erwin orders, desperate to get out of this situation. Levi does so. His ass is as perfect as his face, round and pale, covered by the straps of a black garter belt. The scent of rose and dark chocolate exudes from every corner of his body. “Stretch yourself out,” he commands later, his hand stroking his erection up and down over his underwear. Levi does so with slender, expert fingers, opening himself in just a couple of minutes. Erwin pulls down his underwear and massages the tip of his cock, moist at such a magnificent sight. “I-I’ll do my best not to be rough.”
Why the fuck is he stuttering?
“Don’t worry about it, sir.” Levi’s legs open just a little more. At no point does he turn to look at Erwin. “An omega with my experience can endure anything.”
Endure?
Erwin feels a trickle of sweat slide down the right side of his forehead. He cannot take it anymore. Not looking at this ass, not with this garter belt, not with this low, whispered voice, not with this maid’s uniform a thousand times more suggestive than the sole idea of a naked body.
Not with this scent that turns him on so much. As if it was the exact scent, the only one capable of getting his cock hard like this, like a rock between his legs.
Without further ado, he rests the tip of his cock in the hole and thrusts it in. Levi yells a huh; he gasps, all the while Erwin remains like this, buried inside his wobbling body, without moving a millimeter.
He doesn’t need more than a few seconds inside Levi’s hole to understand that he’s going to come soon, that he won’t last. Something in his gut finds the idea unforgivable; alphas are the pillars of this society, after all. His instinct asks him to fuck like the alphas fuck, to fuck well, to fuck like a beast.
To be one more bigwig in this sea polluted with labeled shit.
With trembling hands, he grips the ass on each side. He sweats against Levi’s skin; it’s too soft, so soft he just wants to squeeze it, spank it, bite it.
He should have kissed him, at least, not taken him so coldly. But this warmth doesn’t let him think, doesn’t let him do anything.
It only lets him be an alpha, one more in the sea, someone with hands as filthy as the others’.
Erwin puts down Levi’s ass, taking off his armband and coat, dropping the garments to the floor, and pushing his pants and underwear past his knees. As he holds the ass once more, he senses Levi’s scent penetrating his brain.
That’s how violent it is, indeed; that’s how inevitable.
“You can move, sir.” Levi pushes toward him with astonishing subtlety. He seems used to these formalities—why doesn’t the thought of it make him uncomfortable enough? Why does this ass make him so hot? “I’m ready…”
To endure? Erwin squeezes his ass with more strength than he controls.
“Sorry,” he says before thrusting in and out roughly.
Levi’s response is to scream. Erwin cannot detect what kind of scream is; he cannot do it anymore. The warmth overwhelms him; the scent makes him dizzy.
He needs to fuck, to turn off his mind and fuck.
To be an alpha.
A fucking alpha!
“Oh!” Erwin roars, sliding out and in at full speed for the second time. He does it again, and again, and again. Short, loud thrusts. “Fuck—!”
He takes a deep breath, giving up when he cannot succeed. Holding his breath, Erwin lets his hips move at the urge of his instinct.
“You can—make it harder!” Levi whispers with more air than voice.
Erwin freezes—Is this what Levi calls endure?
Is it offering more?
“Do you like it hard?” he asks as he slides out.
“Y-Yes, sir…”
“Really?”
“Yes—!”
Erwin thrusts with the full might of his hips. Levi squirms in front of him, his ass standing as his back arches more emphatically than before.
Captivating.
The sight is one of unbearable perfection, as much as the scent that holds his brain, as everything about Levi is, triggering ghostly fantasies in the depths of his instincts.
He needs to stop thinking.
“Come here,” Erwin says as he pulls out, lying down in the middle of the bed without even taking off his shoes, undoing the last three buttons of his shirt. He also undoes his tie with more difficulty than planned. Finally, Erwin points at his cock before Levi, who’s still on all fours at the foot of the bed, only now facing him. “Ride me.”
Because that’s the only way he usually stops thinking when he fucks. When an omega rides him, he stops working.
The omega, riding him, turns him into an alpha without him having to put effort into it like every damn day before this cardboard world.
Accepting the most animalistic part of his instincts by surrendering is the only way of doing it.
Levi obeys with a naturalness that confuses him as much as being here and doing what he has to do it does. He sits on his cock, denoting a superb experience, and rides his cock with such brutality that, at last, he silences Erwin’s mind.
Erwin looks at Levi’s face, looks at how his hands drive his movements as they grip his thighs. He watches his own hands, dirty, moving up and down the pale hip that the lifted skirt doesn’t let him appreciate enough, all the while pushing his groin against him, helped by the bounce the mattress allows. The bed squeaks; Levi’s teeth do so as this one moves at a speed that looks like urgency, like a basic need.
It’s as if he needs his cock; it is. As if he cannot live without it.
And it’s Erwin, feverish because of the scent of roses and dark chocolate, who can no longer conceive of himself outside of this body.
That’s how he loses himself, just like that. Watching Levi rise and fall, feeling the warmth squeeze him and run through him, he loses himself inside that overloaded world that represents his mind. A place full of thoughts that constantly collide with each other. That confuses him and also encourages him and also—
“Yes—!”
It’s so tiring to be inside his head being who he is, this creature who must be an alpha and an Eldian and a titan shifter and a military man and a revolutionary and the one who honors his father’s memory so that—
“Fuck!” he hisses, on the verge of pain. Fucking without being in a full rut is something he hasn’t done for so long that he no longer remembered how imperfect it is. It’s not the same; the pleasure is of an inferior quality. However, the way Levi jumps on his cock out of his mind—an animal that looks in heat even though it’s not—is pleasurable enough, intoxicating enough. It’s enough, indeed, to push him to an edge that his alpha pride won’t allow him to approach so quickly. “A little more!”
Levi places his hands on either side of his belly; Erwin senses how his delicate fingers stretch across the bedspread where he’s lying. He looks at his teeth; Levi shows them before him as he clenches them, his breath coming in and out between them, his eyes closed.
Erwin doesn’t look at more than his teeth as he feels himself slipping from the scene, the warmth that Levi’s insides spread through his body like the best opium an alpha can smoke. Feeling nothing but his cock and his teeth clenching as much as Levi clenches the reality enveloping him, Erwin finds himself on the brink.
And he’s there, finally.
Just an alpha, there.
Releasing an almost guttural sigh, Erwin comes deep inside Levi. This one stops moving immediately, holding his cock in while Erwin breathes through his teeth. It’s an intense climax, but as mute as this formality with this maid who, from tomorrow, will be every day and every night present in his life.
He hasn’t yet given himself to the idea; he cannot.
The pleasure decreases; when he perceives how Levi tries to stand up, Erwin stops him by grasping his waist with his right hand, a weak yet firm one.
“Wait,” he says, using his other hand to lift the skirt. Levi’s cock, small compared to an alpha’s, is hard.
Erwin jerks him off with his right hand while his left one holds the skirt up. Levi doesn’t last long; a handful of strokes are enough to make him come on Erwin’s belly. Amid pained moans, he quivers from head to toe. Even around Erwin’s cock, one that hasn’t yet fully pulled out from his body.
Watching Levi lets Erwin know it will be much harder than planned, more so when the scent suffocates him to the point of needing to lie still and flat with his stained belly and sweaty clothes, Levi next to him like a doll in a girl’s bed, unmoving.
Lifeless.
Like this bond born from formality. A revolution that mission pushing them to share a bed, a relationship, and paths.
Nothing in this bed has the right to be alive.