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“I need to speak with you.”
Levi glances back, towards the clock that sits upon his small bedside table.
“It’s nowhere near reverie,” he answers, voice cold. It’s only then that he lets himself look back up at Erwin who is currently, inexplicably, draped across his doorway, dishevelled and smelling like the downstairs cellar. “And you look like you could use all the rest you can get.”
What Levi means is, I can’t do this right now. He means, Please, if you have any ounce of respect for me, leave me be. He means, We are riding for Shiganshina in a matter of hours, and I can’t bear to look at you. But these things will not be said, obviously. Cannot be said.
In the doorway, Erwin shifts, agitated.
“It’s important,” he says, bringing his hand away from the doorway. “I need to… I just. I need to – one more time – just go over the plan for tomorrow.”
He’s drunk, that’s a given. But Levi is drunk too, though he’d never tell anyone. Never give them a reason to suspect it. Erwin is babbling, though; stammering. That’s the dead giveaway.
“Couldn’t you do this with Hange?”
“Hange is indisposed.”
Of course they are. Levi shifts his weight from one foot to another. The door feels scalding hot and freezing cold at the same time. His eyes burn from want of sleep. If he shuts the door now, he could still get a few hours.
Instead, he says “Fine.”
Erwin steps back out of the doorway, starts heading down the corridor and into the darkness. Levi gives it a moment before he follows. As if he weren’t going to. As if he had a choice.
It takes only twenty-two paces to get to Erwin’s room. Levi doesn’t remember memorising this, just remembers it in time to stop neatly outside the door once they arrive. The lamps are out for the evening. For a moment there is nothing but stillness, but an endless darkness swallowing them, taking its time with it. For a moment there is just the two of them, breathing. Then the door opens.
Erwin hurries to his desk, quiet as he can be, stumbling only a little. Levi hears him hiss between his teeth as he burns himself lighting the lamp on his desk. In the far-left corner, an abandoned fire crackles meekly.
“Thank you,” It’s so quick Levi almost misses it. His attention is brought back to Erwin, golden in the soft light. Midnight nestles itself into the hollows of his cheeks. “I’ve been pouring over it since supper but I just… need a second pair of eyes to look over it. Then I can rest.”
Levi nods, exhausted. Erwin is looking at him again. He is looking at him like he has forgotten what he looks like. Or like he may forget, come tomorrow.
The plan is just the same as it was a few hours ago, surprisingly enough. But Levi still sits down, lets Erwin go through it again. Lets him pretend. He pretends not to notice the way his fingers drum on the desk, again and again and again. He pretends not to hear the floorboards squeak beneath the bouncing of Erwin’s foot.
At some point - Levi isn’t sure, because he isn’t listening - Erwin is standing, hand pressed firmly against the map of tomorrow’s formation. Levi thinks about closing his eyes, lets them get unfocused. He can feel Hange’s cheap whiskey sitting warm in his belly, can feel the warmth of the fire on his cheeks. Minutes pass, or maybe they’re hours. Erwin is still prattling on. He is pacing, back and forth. He looks nervous. He is not nervous, a voice says, from somewhere else. He is scared.
Levi watches him, sunken in his usual chair. He hasn’t said a word, but if Erwin has noticed, he doesn’t seem to mind. There is a sting to the silence that falls once Erwin finishes speaking, and he sways on unsteady feet like a child, scolded.
“Well?”
“Well.”
“Well, does that sound reasonable to you?”
Levi squirms a little in his seat.
“Sounds just the same as this afternoon.”
Erwin winces. “It is the same, essentially.”
Levi blinks at him. Erwin looks rather small, in the darkness. There seems to be a lot less of him. His shoulders are tense, seem narrower, as if his skin is burning like titan flesh. The thought makes Levi wants to scream, suddenly. It’s a feeling that has been buried within his chest all night.
“Okay,” he says, finally, hoarsely. “If that’s everything, then. I’ll be going.”
It is awkward, he realises, as he gets out of his seat, liquor-clumsy and slow. That’s what is filling the air in the room. That is why Erwin is looking at him like that, like he is poison.
He doesn’t wait to be dismissed. He heads to the door, exhausted and ill, all at once. He wonders if sleep is even a possibility, for the remaining few hours he has left. For the remaining few hours Erwin has left.
Of course Erwin will die. He will die because he must. Because that is how this works. They will ride back to Shiganshina and Erwin will bellow himself hoarse and then he will lead the recruits into a river of blood and teeth. He will be ripped limb from limb in the name of glory. And Levi will watch it happen, he can feel it. He knows it as well as he knows his own flesh. Erwin will die, and he will take Levi with him. Not his body, no, but everything else. Everything that matters. Everything he has. Because he must.
“Levi,” and it’s almost nothing. It would be so easy to pretend not to have heard. Levi thinks maybe that is what Erwin wants him to do. But he turns anyway, sees that Erwin has followed him, partially, suspended between Levi and his desk.
Levi might be sick. The light of the lamp is making molten gold out of Erwin’s hair. He is so beautiful it is hateful. He is breathing like he has been running.
“There is another – I need to.” He pauses, clears his throat. Tries again. “There is something else I need to discuss with you. Tell you.” His eyes are so wide. Levi is shaking now.
“It can wait,” he whispers, like it’s a warning. It is a warning.
“No,” Erwin takes a step forward. Levi thinks he may throw something. “No, no, it can’t, I – “
He runs his hand across his face, down his jaw, lets it drift idly towards the stump where his right arm used to be. His head is shaking, like it cannot believe the betrayal of his mouth. He might be trembling, but it might just be the candlelight.
In the stillness, he finds Levi’s eyes and holds them.
“It has to be now.” he breathes, as much to himself as to Levi. He looks devastated, bloodstained, like a green recruit staggering back behind the walls after a first expedition.
“Erwin,” Levi takes a step back, hating the quiver of his voice. He feels his right hand creep backwards, searching for the doorknob, searching for a blade that isn't there, anything. Something to hold onto.
Erwin sees him retreat, presses forward. His eyes are blown wide and desperate. He is an insolent child, he knows this. He is stubborn, and selfish, and won’t leave well-enough alone.
“I have tried, Levi. We have both tried. I – I know you.” He swallows, mouth dry. “And - you know me, yes? So we - we know each other.”
“Yes.” Levi says, softly, before he can stop himself. And then, “You’re drunk.”
Erwin is unbearably close. If Levi reached out now, he’d be under his fingertips, beneath his touch. Perhaps that’s what it is then, this thing that itches in his skin. Perhaps it is a part of Erwin, buried in himself, desperate to return home. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could reach out, feel Erwin’s chest under his fingers, feel his beating heart, and then he could sleep. At least until tomorrow. And the endless nothing after that.
It’s brutal and slow, the way Erwin inches closer. The way his breath fans over Levi, the way his body blocks the candlelight. He smells of mint and wine and sweat. Levi cannot believe he hasn’t left yet.
“You know already, I think,” Erwin whispers, “What I’m trying to tell you. You understand.”
“No. No, Erwin,” Levi tries again. He feels overpowered, weighed to the floor with exhaustion. “Stop it.” It comes out like a whimper. He is a caged dog. He has been captured again. He is on his knees in the Underground, mouth full of sewer water.
Levi looks up at him. Words fail him, as they are wont to do.
“You’re being mean.”
“Levi, please,” and his hand reaches out, fingertips burning against Levi’s cheek for a moment before it is slapped away, like a child caught stealing a piece of fruit. Like a child, throwing a fit. He may as well be stamping his feet.
“Stop it.”
“I can’t, Levi, you know I can’t. I won’t. Because you know me, Levi, do you understand? Do you know what I am trying to tell you?” The imprints of his fingers melt through Levi’s cheek, burn through his teeth, climb down his throat.
He reels back, burning alive. The quiet warmth of the room has turned into a deafening blaze. Erwin will swallow him whole if he stays here. Levi will let him.
“No, no,” he babbles, feeling hard wood underneath his fingers, scratches blindly for the doorknob. “No.”
“Yes.” Erwin is following him stride for stride. He is bracketing him against the door. He is everywhere. He is brushing his knuckles across Levi’s cheekbone. He is tracing a finger along his collarbone. The touch is nauseating. It is blissful.
Levi shoves him then, as hard as the nausea in him will allow. He becomes conscious of his heaving chest, of the flush that is creeping down his neck.
“I have done,” he starts, out of nowhere, “Everything you have asked of me. For six years, everything. I have followed you out into hell again and again because you asked me too. That is who we are, Erwin.”
Erwin watches his eyes shine in the low light, wild with fury. He feels heavy all over. He thinks he might be sick. He thinks he might kiss him. He starts to regain his lost ground.
“You will not insult me like this.” Levi hisses. “You won’t bring me in here and… and wax poetic about things that you have no business speaking on.” He spits the words out like bile. Erwin is close to him again. When did he get that close again? Why did he let him?
Levi swallows. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. He speaks again, quieter, turning his gaze to the last embers of the dying fire. “I will not be the person you come to because you need a final lay before you charge to your death. I can’t – I won’t do it. I won’t.”
He lifts his chin to meet Erwin’s gaze, feels their chests graze together on every inhale. He is undone, unravelling into a heap. He will pass through Erwin’s fingers like water, he is sure of it. His mouth is opening again. Apparently, he will beat Erwin to it.
“Not when I have spent the entirety of these last six years loving you.”
Something cracks, shatters across Erwin’s face, but Levi doesn’t have long to see it before his back is against the door, Erwin’s palm heavy against his throat, lips desperate, starving against his own. It forces a sound out of him, breathless, pathetic, and Erwin takes that too, swallows it down, crowding Levi against the wood, skin unbearably warm, breath warmer.
He is everywhere. He tastes like wine. Levi is up on his toes, licking into his mouth. Erwin feels teeth on his lower lip, small hands snaking up into his hair, holding on, pulling him in. Levi kisses him like wants to suffocate him. They fight for breath, passing it between each other, dizzy with it.
“I’m sorry,” Erwin says, against his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cradles Levi’s face in his hand, whispers broken apologies against his cheekbone, pressing his lips to his forehead, his eyelids, back to his mouth. He takes a mental note of everything. It is a blissful kind of agony. It will be impossible to remember it all, he realises with a devastating finality.
And Levi is – Levi is clambering up, wrapping his arms around his neck, his legs around his waist. Levi is panting into his ear, grazing his teeth along his throat. His tremors echo through Erwin’s torso as he wraps his arm around his small frame, until he is supporting him fully, the added weight forcing them both back loudly against the door. Erwin pins him there, presses forward with his hips, fuelled by the strangled noises he is getting in return. His mind races, incoherent, as his senses are flooded with nothing but Levi, the scent of his skin, the warmth of his body, the way his eyes widen when he is afraid. He is somehow pulling Erwin in tighter. He will drown him.
It is dizzying, to be touched by Levi, to be wanted by him. He is as fierce in love as he is in anything else. His teeth nip and bite at his throat like an animal picking at its prey. He has caught me, I suppose, Erwin thinks, nose pressing against Levi’s hair, nudging his head back up so he can retake his lips. It’s only fair.
And Erwin is thinking suddenly, inexplicably, of Marie, of how she tasted like cherries, how his hands would slip so easily to rest on her soft waist. How the first time she kissed him felt like finding something healing, something warm and gentle, unhurried and polite in that Tavern in Trost. When she put her hands on him afterward, pulled him into her, it was like coming home. She’d throw her arms around his neck, lazily, and ride him until they were tired and warm, each time an unspoken promise of something even better. Something so rich and pure.
But he didn’t marry her, even when she asked. He was not built for purity, something warm and sickly sweet. She wanted him to leave the corps and he almost did it, for her. He would have done almost anything, for her. But not that. Never that. When he broke her heart she told him he had turned to stone. Her eyes had been so green, amplified by the redness left behind by her tears, and she had clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles were white. Erwin had thought she would hit him, curse his name, spit at his feet the way the townspeople did to Shadis when he rode back into the walls without their children. They way they would do to Erwin, when the time came. But she was strong, he realised, far stronger than him. She’d shaken her head, a small gesture, and kissed her teeth.
“I knew this would happen. I knew you would do this to me,” she said, voice level, eyes steady. He loved her then, somehow, even more.
“I should have known once I realised you couldn’t say it.”
He felt incredibly small. He should’ve sent her away then, saved her the hassle. But a sick, desperate sensation kept him silent, rooted in place, an onlooker forced to watch a spectacular tragedy.
“My mother says you could convince anthills that they were mountains,” she whispered, “You and your words. You could rouse the dead to come fight by your side, to lay their lives down for a second time. And they would.” She took a step closer. She smelled like cinnamon. “For you.”
She tilted her head, peering up at him. She had been tall, unusually so for a woman in her town, only having to lift her chin slightly to meet Erwin’s gaze. Her copper hair was blinding in the afternoon sun. She reached out, put her hand on his shoulder, squeezed it, ever so lightly.
“But you could never tell the barmaid in Trost that you loved her, could you?”
Erwin stepped back then, severing the touch. She folded her arms across her body. A pained, knowing smile crept across her freckled cheeks. She was devastating in the sunlight, such a fiery thing. She did not say anything else. She left him, adrift, staring at the door that she left ajar as she slipped into memory.
Then there is a hand in his hair, another digging into his shoulder blade, pulling him away from her. She disappears into the gap that forms between Levi’s lips. Erwin fits his tongue inside it. It pulls a sound from both of them, something deep and buried. Kissing Levi is nothing at all like kissing Marie, all teeth and shuddering breath. Levi feels nothing like her either. His body clings to Erwin’s, smothering any space that forms between them, threatening to rip them both apart. Erwin feels the muscles of his thighs tense and flex to support his weight, feels his growing hardness press, insistent, against his stomach. Levi kisses like he is starving, like he doesn’t know when he will be full again. If he ever will be. Erwin tries to pull back, searches for his eyes, tries to open his mouth to speak. Levi clamps a hand over his lips, skin burning.
“Don’t,” he says, growls. It is another warning. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”
“Levi – “, but the hand across his mouth shifts, two fingers pressing past his lips, resting upon his tongue. Erwin blinks, closes his mouth around them, feels them twitch. He pulls back off them like it’s instinct. He thinks about falling to his knees.
“Yeah.” Levi murmurs, almost to himself, voice heady. His irises have all but vanished. “Yeah, good.”
He unwinds his legs then, pulling Erwin with him, refusing to break the contact as his fingers find the hem of Erwin’s sleep shirt, helping him shrug out of it. There is so much of him. He is a tall man, broad shoulders and high cheekbones and a proud, strong nose, but here he is giant. Here, with his hand gently rucking up Levi’s own shirt, fingertips brushing against his ribs, Levi feels unbearably small. So he pulls at the back of his neck, pulls and pulls until they are on the floor, Levi clambering on top of him, kneecaps digging into the wood, feeling Erwin’s hand sliding down from his shoulder blades to the curve of his ass. It should be humiliating, rutting on the floor like a pair of teenagers, ripping at each other’s clothes to press their naked flesh together, blotchy with the marks of teeth, traced red raw by greedy fingernails. It is humiliating, Levi realises. Maybe he would laugh, if he could. If he could think of anything other than the feeling growing, hot and insatiable, in the pit of his stomach with every twitch of Erwin’s hips against his own. His brings his hands up to rest on Erwin’s shoulders, fingers digging in, breath coming shallow and fast.
“Just,” he manages, squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel his whole body start to tremble. Erwin is tilting his head to the side, pressing his lips along his jaw, down his throat. “God, Erwin. Please.”
Erwin looks back up at him, hair mussed, lips red. He nods, barely visible, like he doesn’t realise he’s doing it. Levi feels cleaved in two. Erwin is pressing against his ass, encouraging him to grind down, gently rocking his own hips up to meet Levi’s. His fingertips creep further down, inwards. Levi shudders with it.
“Do you… do you want me to – “
“Yes, yes, fucking hell, hurry it up.”
It’s rushed. The pain is white hot, it seems to spread through him, until it’s buzzing in Levi’s fingers as he tears at Erwin’s shoulders. If Erwin is whispering against his throat, gentle words of encouragement against insistent fingers, he can’t hear him. He can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears, a stinging thing, white hot and addictive, burning through him, doomed to overflow. He might be moaning, but they could just as easily be sobs. There is no time for luxury here, for slowness. Maybe there was before, but it has all run out now. It disappeared somewhere in between a quiet knowing, between shared cups of tea, soft laughter, a meeting of eyes, held for maybe a moment too long. What is left is this, shivering and naked on the floor, bodies winding tighter, impossibly tighter, too much to say, no time left to say it. Something beautiful, just born, being led to the slaughter before it can open its eyes.
There are three fingers now. It is indescribable. It is agony, to have Erwin like this, arm quivering, the angle all wrong, Levi’s hand gripped around him, growing insistent. He leaves him all at once, and the absence is torture, and Levi whines out at the loss of the warmth, the push. He’s not sure when Erwin picks him up, barely notices he’s done it until he’s being placed gently upon soft linens, hears his name being whispered.
“Levi,”, but it sounds different, like he is saying something else.
“Levi,” Erwin says, “Levi.” It isn’t what he wants to say, but in the haze, against skin that tastes like lemon myrtle, it feels like the same thing. He keeps saying it, his own desperate prayer, until they are face to face, lips grazing, Levi’s thigh trembling under his palm. It is the mantra he repeats to himself as he presses himself into Levi’s warmth, even as he feels the fingernails at his waist draw blood, even as he goes blind with it. He can feel Levi twitch, writhe around him. The movements match his breath – short, sharp, infrequent, quivering. Erwin pushes himself back up, watches him like that, drinks in the sight beneath him. His porcelain skin is blushed, slick with sweat already. He hides his face behind his hands, crosses them over each other in a self-bind. Erwin leans back over him, God, how small he is, all wiry limbs and corded muscle, and grabs both of his wrists, pinning them gently above his head.
The movement is small at first, delicate. Levi is glad for it, all of it, any of it, really. It consumes him. It does not occur to him to protest when Erwin pins his hands down, when he begins to move his hips in small thrusts. It does not occur to him to close his mouth when he notices it hanging open, doesn’t occur to him to stop the whines that rip from his chest. It’s just Erwin, all of it, everywhere, in every crevice, where he belongs, wrapped up in Levi, caged in by his thighs. He slips into the bliss of it, cards his hands through golden chest hair, listens to the sounds he gets when he pulls Erwin in further. He sinks his teeth into his chest, the hollow of his throat, lets himself feel giddy at the sound of Erwin’s sharp inhales. He is impossibly vast. He is everywhere. Levi runs his palms across the expanse of him, dips into canyons, into valleys. He is endless uncharted territory. He is so warm.
He is so warm. Tomorrow he will be cold. Or if not tomorrow, the day after that. Or if not then, sometime soon. It doesn’t matter what I do. It never did. Death will take him from me regardless.
He did not realise his eyes were closed. He opens them now, finds Erwin’s, wide with concern, the movement of his hips slowing. There is a palm against his cheek, scalding hot, just so unbearably warm, wiping at the wetness that has slipped through Levi’s eyelashes. It’s pity, Levi decides, watching the look on Erwin’s face, Or worry. Either way, it makes him furious, suddenly, makes him want to climb out of his skin. It’s a burning thing, and it bubbles down into his fingertips as they push into Erwin’s chest, forcing the two of them apart, until Erwin is sitting, doe-eyed and dishevelled, back on his heels. He is still nestled between Levi’s thighs, but he moves his hand away, as if he’s just been caught touching something prized, off-limits. The loss of his touch is awful. Levi wishes he’d never had it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” and it’s a hiss, catlike.
Erwin blinks at him, shifting back on his knees a little, thighs flexing with the movement. Sweat decorates him like the fine jewellery Levi has seen nobles wear, only he wears it so much better. It is infuriating. It is hypnotising. He places his hand back on Levi’s calf, lets his fingers wrap around it.
“Like what?” There is a crease between his eyebrows. His eyes stay focused on the work of his palm, which traces the plane of Levi’s calf, his shin, inching upwards.
“Like I’m something fragile.”
Erwin looks up at him then, eyes black, his fingertips tracing delicate circles along his thigh. He shifts back further, until he is lying on his stomach, warm breath fanning across Levi’s aching crotch.
“Not fragile.” he says. He has taken Levi in his hand, dips his head down further to press his lips to his inner thigh. He runs his tongue along the junction between thigh and crotch, tastes the sweat there, smells the wine still present on his own breath. Levi has started shaking again.
“No?”
“No.”
There is a hand in his hair now, nails scratching against his scalp. He rewards the gesture by licking a stripe up Levi’s length, hums at the yelp he gets in response. The liquor has made him bold, he realises, nose pressing into dark hair, lips grazing over thigh and stomach and cock, leaving nothing untouched, until Levi’s skin goes glassy, kiss-slick. He should always look like this, Erwin thinks. Worshipped and adored. Claimed and exalted. Cherished.
“Not fragile, no.” he says again, against skin. He brings his mouth to Levi’s tip, lets it hover for a moment, before he spits. Levi bucks beneath him.
“You are, however,” Erwin pauses, thinks about it, before parting his lips, “Precious.”
He takes him in one, like it’s nothing. Like it’s so easy. Like he was born for it. It starts slow, and Levi’s breaths are coming in choked pants, still somehow breathless, and he feels his vision slip in and out of focus in time with Erwin’s jaw. When he pulls back off him, mouth red and slick with it, they lock eyes again, wanton, before Erwin speaks again.
“Something so precious should be regarded as such,” he whispers, into Levi’s thighs. He’d quite like to die here, if he could. If he had such a luxury of choice. Maybe here, nestled in Levi, it would not be so bad to fade away, to be swallowed whole. Maybe Levi could kill him like this, suffocate him between his legs, and Erwin could die in bliss.
“And you know a lot about precious things, do you?”
Erwin laughs at that, a quiet exhale through his nose. When he lines himself up again, he feels Levi go still with a held breath.
“Well enough to know them when I see them.”
It doesn’t last long. Levi is already aching, clawing and desperate for it by the time Erwin takes him in his mouth again, moans slipping between clenched teeth, keening, legs quivering and spine peeling from sweat-damp sheets. Maybe he’d be ashamed of it, any other night, the way he comes, hard and fast, not bothering to give any warning, after only a handful of minutes. Maybe he’d be disgusted by the way Erwin takes it, all of it, like it’s nothing, the way he pulls himself back up so that his body pins Levi to the bed. Maybe he’d hate how when they kiss again it’s all salt and teeth, combined into one taste, but he doesn’t hate it, not even close. He just drowns in it.
He hooks his legs around Erwin’s waist, brings his pelvis up to knock Erwin’s legs out from under him, spinning them both, so that he can press him down into the mattress for a change. He devours him, leaving a trail of bites leading up to his jaw, marks of points consumed, marks of territory. These too, he realises, are warnings. When he gets to his mouth, he takes his bottom lip in his teeth, bites it until he tastes blood.
“We’ll see,” he says, taking Erwin in his hand, sinking back onto him with a groan, “Just how precious you are, huh?”
He doesn’t start slow. They have run out of time for that. Erwin’s hand shoots forward, grabbing Levi’s hip, bringing him down just as soon as he pulls away. He sets his jaw, watches Levi ride him like he has something to prove, dark hair plastered across a crimson face, torso tilted back and hands gripping Erwin’s thighs. He lets his head fall back, moans through his teeth, tries to burn the image into his memory. He is meeting Levi’s every movement, the synchronisation hypnotic, to the point where it’s almost too much, but at the same time not enough. No, nowhere near enough.
“Erwin,” Levi has a hand on his own stomach now, fingers spread, as if trying to feel the join through his skin, “Keep your eyes on me.”
It’s almost impossible. Levi is so bright in the darkness, almost blinding. He radiates something sacred. It feels sinful to even watch him, the way he moves now. It feels like salvation.
“You were going to tell me something, weren’t you?”
Erwin snaps out of his trance, misses a beat, and the sync is off for a moment before Levi grabs his chin, pulls him up so that he can straddle Erwin’s lap, wrap his other arm around his shoulders. He rides him like that, noses knocking together, moans freely from deep in his chest. There are bruises blooming on his neck from where Erwin has bitten him.
Erwin has gone silent, slack-jawed, suddenly at a loss. It all seems so stupid now, his former plans. To bring Levi in here, beg him to listen, shower him in adoration, tell him his deepest truths, knowing full well that Death would absolve him of his shame come tomorrow. He cannot hide in Death now, buried in Levi, wrapped in his arms. There is nowhere to go. In his nakedness, in the light of a dying fire, he cannot find his voice. It leaves him silent, save for his panting breaths, save for the sound his palm makes as it brushes against Levi’s skin, for the sound their hips make as they meet, again and again and again.
Coward, he thinks, bringing his hand to the back of Levi’s neck, feeling the sharp hairs there, bringing their mouths together again. Coward. There is an inferno growing in his stomach, and Erwin curses himself for it, curses time for slipping away so quickly, curses the pull of exhaustion on his body, curses the approaching reverie. Levi’s hand is on his face then, pulling his focus back. There’s a look in his eyes that strips Erwin bare, pierces through his skin. Every part of him burns.
Levi pushes him down, onto his back again, picks up the speed, trails a hand down his stomach to touch himself. He closes his eyes, lets his head tilt to the side, a ruby blush spreading across his cheeks and chest.
“Come on Erwin,” he purrs, but there’s a whine to his voice, something desperate, “You brought me in here to say something. I want to know what it was.”
Erwin’s hand falls to his waist, grips him there, palm fitting so sweetly around his small frame. He digs his fingers in like he’s trying to tear a chunk from him, or maybe like he’s trying to meld them together, become one flesh, something that cannot be separated. He lets out a sound then, something like a growl, the sight of Levi touching himself sending him careening dangerously close to the edge.
“I-“ he tries, swallows, “Levi.”
“You wanted this. Say it.” There’s a hand around Erwin’s throat now, gentle. It is obscene. “I want you to fucking tell me.”
There’s a desperation Levi can’t keep out of his voice. He curses himself for it, tries to pass it off as something wanton and depraved, rather than something small and starving, begging for validation. What good will it do now, to feed it? What is the point of letting it grow another day? It has starved for so long that perhaps its stomach will reject any scraps it is given. But the hunger is blinding, all-consuming. It begs to be filled.
Erwin is rolling them again, and the movement shifts to something dangerously tender, honey-sweet. Levi, stupidly, thinks about wriggling away, feels ridiculous for asking for it, for demanding it. He doesn’t want to hear it now.
“Please,” he’s begging, somehow, “Please.” He has no idea what he’s even asking for. Erwin has his arm resting beside Levi’s face, blond hairs brushing against his forehead, nose against his temple. Levi swallows a sob. He’s going to come again.
Erwin is relentless, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose, chasing his pleasure mindlessly, like an animal, crazed. His body pushes on as his words, ever reliable, desert him. He is adrift, in this bed, in the warmth of the wine in his belly, in the feeling of fingers clinging to his hair. There is a stone in his throat. There is lead on his tongue. His teeth clench like the dead. All that is left is Levi, porcelain, cracked, marred, beautiful. So beautiful.
Anthills that they were mountains, Erwin thinks, stupidly, fucking into him, hand twisting into the linens. You and your words. He winces, scolded, tries to bury the memory in the rhythm of desperate thrusts.
And Levi is sobbing now, clinging to Erwin, boneless in ecstatic agony. He reaches between them, strokes himself blindly, and Erwin’s eyes go black with it, watching him, mouth parting in reverence.
“Oh, Levi.” he whispers, like the closing of a prayer. And that’s what does it. Something shifts, shatters, and Levi is toppling over the edge once more, raking fingers down Erwin’s spine, crying out, and he pulls Erwin with him, tugging a moan from his chest, feels the warmth and the wet covering them both, relishes in the filth of it, fucked gently through the aftershocks, feels full, overflowing, feels unbearably empty. Bliss rips through him, leaves a jagged wound bound to scar. His fingers knot themselves into Erwin’s hair as he pulls them back together, unwilling to let go, and they breathe like that for a moment, as the dust settles, as the world creeps back into focus.
Eventually, Erwin pulls away, and Levi keens for the loss of him, reaching blindly, settling into the space that Erwin makes for him as he settles on his back. They lie like that, linens kicked to the floor, naked and burning. Only the embers remain in the fire now, and the lamp on the desk has gone out. A stillness sets in, something tired and sweet. Something heavy.
Erwin swallows around the stone in his throat. He feels agonisingly mute, looking down at Levi, who gazes back up at him, eyes catlike in the growing darkness.
I knew you would do this to me, he hears, feels the guilt begin, heavy and sharp in his stomach.
I should’ve known once I realised you couldn’t say it.
“Will you stay?” he whispers, breaking the silence.
Levi blinks at him. The watery red in his eyes is the only giveaway at his former sobs. Any other hint is gone, tucked behind his usual steely disposition, save for the way he clings to Erwin, knuckles white, as if afraid he may bolt at any moment. He is almost impenetrable. Almost.
“Will you?”
Erwin blanches at the question, feels it hit him in the gut. It was inevitable.
Levi shifts beside him, raises a hand to rest gently on Erwin’s face. Erwin doesn’t want to hear it, knows it’s coming, feels sick with it. The dread is ice cold. And Levi looks so beautiful like this, unguarded, soft. When he speaks, it is slow, insistent.
“Let us handle it.” Erwin closes his eyes, can’t help the way his head leans into Levi’s touch, like a rock face, crumbling. He is so tired. His cheekbone rests on rough callouses, lips against soft wrist.
Levi has moved closer. “Stay.”
Their foreheads are together. Levi has moved his other hand up to cup Erwin’s other cheek. He cannot be escaped. He is so small, but here he is infinite. “Stay. Please. Please let us win this for you.” He hesitates, speaks again. “Let me win this for us. I will bring everything back for you.”
Erwin has started to cry, crumbling in Levi’s hands. He knows already, of course. This is what Levi does, when his comrades die. There is always a moment, in the stillness, right before the end, where he grows softer, holds their hand, allows them a small smile, sits in the pooling blood. Says all the things he never would have said to them before. This is how he lets them know they are dying. They go within his clasped hands, his soft words. But Levi is not telling Erwin to let go, like he hoped he would. He grips his face like a vice. He is trying to pull him out. He is weeping again, openly, eyes wide like a child’s. There is a sick, horrible look of hope in his eyes. Erwin has put it there, crafted it with selfish, wandering hands. He has grown into such a cruel man, he thinks, tearing his eyes away from Levi’s, looking instead at his left hand, limp and useless in his lap. He has taken Levi’s salvation, damned him to hell in return.
And Levi is saying “Stay.” He is holding Erwin’s face in gentle hands, and he is saying “Please, Erwin, I beg of you. Stay.”
Erwin looks up at him again, watches him still, watches him brace for it. It is already said, but Erwin still speaks anyway.
“I can’t.”
Levi stills, closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, the burning hope is gone. He lets his hands drift to his lap. Something in him straightens, collects itself. Erwin listens to him breathe, feels the sting of the loss of contact.
“You will die.”
“Possibly.”
“Definitely.”
“Not definitely.” Erwin lies, like he does. Like he is so good at. You and your words.
He watches Levi brush his tears away, stare somewhere just beyond Erwin, eyes blank, hands folding neatly. He does not bother to argue. They have run out of time. Here, naked, dishevelled, bitten and tear-stained, he is so perfect. He is immoveable. Even Erwin cannot destroy him.
He will survive, he thinks, selfishly. I will make sure of it.
As if he has heard his thoughts, Levi’s eyes flicker back to meet Erwin’s. In the low light, they seem almost translucent.
I adore you, is what Erwin doesn’t say. I am in awe of you. You strike equal amounts of fear and love into me. You have bought me innumerable days. You have given me so much more time than I deserved. I wish I had spent more of it with you. I wasted so many days in denial. I wish to map every part of you, kiss every inch, collect moments of your bliss and bottle them so I can give them back to you. I cannot regret this night, though I should. I only regret that there were not more of them.
“You need rest.” Levi says, like it is any other night. “You look like shit.”
Erwin just nods, watches him reach for the discarded linens, lets Levi wrap them both up in blankets, lets him tuck himself back into Erwin’s side, like this is what they have always done. Like this is what they will always do, from now on. Like it isn’t the first time. Like it isn’t the last.
The stone dislodges then, so easily, like a knife from a wound. Like a dam, bursting.
“I love you.”
The embers crackle. Somewhere outside, a horse nickers. It is deafening. Levi is silent. He pulls himself up, just slightly, so he can take the back of Erwin’s neck, bring him close, kiss him gentle and slow. It is the last time.
When he pulls back, there is the ghost of a smile, devastated and pure, etched upon his face.
He doesn’t say it back. He just says “I know.”
***
When Erwin wakes, only a handful of hours later, dawn has broken, and he is alone. Footsteps begin to shuffle and scrape from behind the door, growing louder with the passing minutes. The stillness is broken, but there is no chatter in the hallway. The end has already begun. The air is sour, poisoned with a grim finality. Erwin breathes it in. He leaves the bed unmade.
In Shiganshina, under the lilac dusting of the sun’s first light, Zeke Jaeger encases himself inside a new spine, and begins collecting stones.