Chapter Text
“Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us. It is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.” — Milan Kundera
A person in the mirror looks back at him with a stern expression and icy eyes. In the dark room, Erwin stands in his military coat, staring at his reflection in a full-frame mirror. But, another man is looking back at him, not Erwin, but the thirteenth leader of the Survey Corps – the Commander. Erwin looks back at the stranger, his fingers pressed onto the glass surface, fogged by his hot breath that reeks of expensive liquor. Everything about the man is perfect; his chiseled, handsome face, combed blonde hair, and a pressed shirt.
The man in the mirror is an empty husk, a fabrication with a charming smile.
Commander Smith is an idea; a brilliant cadet, a handsome young Commander, and an ambitious strategist. But he isn’t real. He crafted this persona to inspire confidence, admiration, and intense loyalty. He’s a fake man with a phony dream chasing his selfish delusions.
Nobody knows what lies beneath the veneer.
The Commander strips, removing his formal green coat and unbuttoning the white shirt. He stands as still as a statue, exposing his muscular neck and broad chest peppered with gold. His gaze finds a purple bite blossom on his shoulder and a smear of rouge on his collar. For a fleeting moment, the Commander’s expression reveals a slight disgust.
Erwin sighs and continues to strip, piece by piece, removing each layer of clothing like a snake shedding its skin until he’s nude – standing alone in the room’s darkness.
Erwin looks at his athletic physique for a long time, accounting for every scar and bruise. Despite his good looks, he’s never been a vain man. His attractiveness and physical beauty are nothing but tools, one of many to reach his goal. He uses looks and charisma to get what he wants, whether to slay titans, recruit the young dreamers or secure more funding from the Council. The Commander is a fantasy, a lust-filled dream. One would pay in gold for a night with a man like Erwin.
He’ll sell his body for a cause. Sex is a weapon – a transaction – nothing more, nothing less. Erwin would do anything for a cause, even fuck a Councilman or two for a vote in favor of Survey Corps missions – pleasure their lonely wives for a word in favor of the Scouts. He’ll do whatever it takes to escape the tyranny of ignorance the people in power hold on to. One day, he’ll prove his father’s theories – he’ll show them all.
It brings him no pleasure or joy – he doesn’t linger on the act or their bodies afterward. Instead, he tries to forget and focus on his duties. But some things remain; the expensive perfume stinks of loneliness and breathy rehearsed voices that crack from desperation. Each time he sells his body, a part of him chips away. Erwin stares at his face, wondering when his face will show signs of internal erosion. When will people notice who he really is? Cracked. Irreparable.
Do others see the emptiness inside him?
Erwin averts his gaze and walks to the corner of the rented room. He’s staying in Mitras for two weeks between the two planned expeditions. Erwin sits on the chair, slouching over the wobbly desk. The candle flickers with a warm orange glow. For a long, unending moment, he stares at the oozing wax drip down, collecting on the edges of the candlestick. The sizzling melted beads draw him in, luring him. An itch in his stomach keeps scratching his innards; spiders tickle his skin, vermin feast on his bones, and maggots crawl into the hollow spaces in his rib cage. The wax is hot and sticky, pulling him closer and keeping his eyes glued to the flame. The temptation to pour the wax on his hand rises every second. He could take a candle, angle it over his wrist, and watch the wax drip on his skin. Erwin wants to burn, drip by drip, like a moth.
It’s what he deserves — what a man like him needs.
In the dark corners of his mind, he slips into unmentionable fantasies unbecoming for a Commander. On a lonely, hopeless night like this, he yearns to fall to his knees and sink into the river of oblivion.
He wants to feel something – anything – wants it to hurt.
More than anything, he wants to be punished.
The Underground City reeks of piss and despair, like a sickness, or worse, a rotting corpse. This is a damp, lawless place – another manifestation of their unjust world. Here, in the abandoned city, the Crown banishes their weak, their poor, the desperate, and the damned, so above the Mitras streets can glisten with splendor. Only a person brave or stupid enough would willingly descend Below. But Erwin was always curious, marveling at the obscure and abnormal – seeking pearls in the mud.
He walks, watching his back; covering his face with a plain black cloak. Underground is not a place for the Scout, especially not their Commander. Even the military police rarely descend to these muddy tunnels. If anyone recognized Erwin, that would raise suspicions with the Crown, and Erwin is already toeing the line of what's acceptable to the higher-ups. With a glance behind his shoulder, Erwin enters a gloomy alleyway, seeking a house with a red door. After searching for a few moments, Erwin spots the decrepit and unassuming stone building without a name or a sign attached to the entrance. Erwin opens the creaking door, stepping inside.
This is it. There is no going back now.
Erwin steps into the modest but neat entrance hall. The room is murky, with only a few candles casting an eerie glow. Instead of clamor and perfumed air masking the smell of sex, the space is engulfed with a faint hint of lemon. This might be the cleanest brothel Erwin had ever frequented. The orderliness puts Erwin at ease. He’s not a stranger to brothels, although he has only indulged in buying pleasure during his days as a young recruit. Soon he learned he had no appetite for pleasure houses. No place within the Walls could satisfy his twisted fantasies.
In a corner, a figure hunches over a desk. Upon seeing the door open, he straightens and locks his eyes with Erwin.
“Come in!” The man speaks with a mild voice.
Adjusting his hood over his eyes, Erwin walks towards the man. The seated man is young and lanky, with a gaunt face. A weakness hides in his bones, the frailty and underdeveloped musculature from malnourishment. He looks at Erwin with a crooked eyebrow and an unamused face.
“I have an appointment,” Erwin whispers, despite being alone in the room with the ashen man. The pleasant but icy expression doesn’t leave the young man’s face. Erwin coughs and elaborates: “A messenger should have arranged it with you last week. He said he confirmed it with Church.”
“Yes, that’s me,” Church says, a sly smile dancing in the corner of his dry lips. “You’re late. He won’t like that.”
“Apologies, the journey took longer than expected,” Erwin says lowly, pulling the satchel with coins and placing it on the desk. “I can pay for additional time.”
Church waves his hand and brushes his long, limp bangs from his eyes.
“No. You will pay the boss. Viper is very particular about it.”
Erwin nods, keeping his face impassive. He takes the coin purse and places it back under his cloak. His palms are clammy from sweat.
“Alright,” Erwin says, waiting for other directions. He doesn’t want inexperience and his unfamiliarity with the Underground customs to make him an easy target.
Church makes a note on a piece of yellow paper and rings a silver bell. The high-pitched twang breaks the confining silence between them. A head of red hair emerges from the hallway. A young girl, no older than young soldiers in the training corps, stands leaning on the door with crossed arms. She’s wearing an oversized raggy shirt and loose pants tucked into leather boots.
“Bring him to the boss,” Church says, pointing his head towards the dark hallway. “He’s waiting, and our customer is already late.”
The redhead nods and tucks her hands in the trouser pockets, striding forward with a rehearsed bravado. But looking closer, Erwin can see her disguising a limp. Her body is frail; sharp knobs sticking out of her slumped back, sickness eating her from within.
“Follow me,” the girl says, her voice a raspy whisper. She sounds like she is fighting a cough, her lungs wheezing with each breath. Could be a miner’s lung, or worse, consumption. People aren't meant to live in darkness. Their bodies fade and weaken until they disappear into the shadows.
The girl leads him through a narrow hallway, slinking through the shadows like a ghost. She is illuminating the way with a single candle, flickering in her hands with a pale flame. Erwin follows, each step of his boots thumping on the creaky floorboards. Erwin’s a big man, tall and broad; his stature is an asset in his line of work. But now, in this confining place, he, too, wants to appear smaller and become one with the darkness. Erwin notices a staircase descending to a lower level. Curious. He didn't think there were spaces deeper than the Underground. The stairs lead into the void, swallowed by the darkness.
The girl stops and points to the staircase.
“There, he’s waiting,” the redhead says, passing Erwin a candle. She looks at Erwin with a warning expression. “Viper’s in a shitty mood today,” she adds. “You better listen to what he says, or else you’ll be in big trouble.”
“Noted,” Erwin says shortly, watching the girl turn on her heel and leave without a goodbye. “Alright then,” Erwin mutters, gazing at the nothingness.
The darkness doesn’t scare him, yet staring down the staircase sends an icy shiver down Erwin’s spine. He takes the first step like a prisoner before the gallows, his heart thumping in his eardrums. Is this where Erwin meets his end? Not outside the Walls in titan’s mouth but at the hands of an Underground criminal. Perhaps that’s a fate Erwin would deserve, not a heroic march in honor of Humanity’s victory but a disappearance in the shadow in pursuit of his perverse curiosity.
He’s eager to meet the man from the shadows, the dark secret of Mitras’ rich and powerful, the poisonous Viper, and an Underground City’s dominant for hire — a mysterious man named Levi.
“Enter.”
Erwin opens the door, letting his eyes adjust to the perpetual murkiness. He first notices the smell of incense and burning wax. The room is quite large; stone walls, low ceilings, and candles on the floor. A shadowy figure sits in the corner on a wooden armchair.
Erwin stills, surprised, almost thinking he has entered the wrong room. The man’s appearance is unexpected for a man of his reputation. When Erwin heard the nobles whisper about a man named Levi, they spoke about him as the Scouts talked about the titans. In his mind, the Viper was a giant of a man – the strongest creature within the Walls, somebody who could snap him in half. But instead, he faces a delicate, androgynous man with a boyish face and a narrow, diminutive frame. His slithering name suits him. He’s sleek and elegant, like a snake – youthful and handsome — beautiful yet deadly. Erwin understands now why Mitras’ men lose their heads and their last coin on Levi’s special services.
He’s dressed in unassuming clothing more suited for a high-ranking military officer than a sex worker. His pristine white shirt is spotless, with no wrinkle in sight, and dark trousers hug the man’s lithe frame. The shirt hangs loose on him, exposing the pale thinness of his shoulders and razor-sharp clavicles. The glimpse of his creamy flesh alludes to the pulp of the forbidden fruit — a sin. His legs are crossed, showing the leather steel-capped boots. On the armrest, he’s resting his elegant arm, gloved in black, elbow-length gloves.
The Viper glances toward Erwin with dissatisfaction.
“You’re late,” Levi says with a disappointed voice. He’s twirling a knife in his bone-thin fingers, playing with the blade like a child with a sack of marbles. “Pitty, I thought a soldier like you had some respect for the rules, unlike those MP pigs.”
“Apologies,” Erwin says, locking eyes with Levi. He senses his inquisitive eyes all over his cloaked body, trying to peer through the layers of clothing. “Are you the man who they call the Viper?”
Levi scoffs as if Erwin has asked a ridiculous, childish question. He doesn’t even bother answering. Instead, he ignores him, playing with his knife, inspecting the sharpness of the blade with those midnight eyes. Levi’s disinterest hurts Erwin’s ego. He feels small for the first time.
“What? Am I not what you expected, huh? Soldier boy wanted to be beaten up by a big, tough guy? Levi hisses and, with one swift motion, throws his knife in front of Erwin’s feet. The knife hits the stone with a clanging thud, inches away from Erwin’s toes.
Erwin doesn’t answer. It’s true. Levi was not what he expected. No, he was much more – a manifestation of his suppressed desires. Levi stirs something more dangerous than lust in him; curiosity.
“How did you know I serve in the military?”
Levi clicks his tongue and crosses his arms.
“So here’s the deal, soldier-boy,” Levi growls. “While you are here, in this room, in this pile of shit, you listen to me. You speak when I tell you to speak, you do whatever I order. Is that clear?”
“Understood,” Erwin says curtly, looking the man in front of him.
“Nah. Not good enough,” Levi’s voice is a raspy whisper. It makes Erwin’s skin spike in goosebumps — his cock throb with thrill.
“Understood. Yes, Sir.” Erwin blurts. He’s used to the military hazing and discipline. ‘Yes, Sir,’ are just empty words – he’s said the phrase since he was a child. Yes, Sir… Understood, Sir. He has replied to many men, some that he respected and some that he didn’t. He said ‘Yes, Sir’ to Commander Shadis, and the Commander before him… and the one before. Fourteen years in the military will teach you to blurt out countless meaningless expressions. Now that he is the Commander, the entire regiment uses the same honorifics when addressing him. Do his subordinates mean it, or are those also just empty words spoken out of habit? Do their hearts burn when they salute with a fist clenched above their chest, or is it all pomp and circumstance?
“No,” Levi interrupts and shifts in his chair. “I said. Not good enough.”
Erwin looks up and meets Levi’s pointed gaze. Say it. Say it like you mean it; those gray eyes are daring him. Levi’s eyes stir something dormant inside him, a want, a need to be taken apart by the man in front of him.
“Yes, Sir,” Erwin repeats with downcast eyes, a hint of meekness in his low baritone. “Whatever you say, Sir.”
“Better.”
His icy face is expressionless, although his voice sounds less disengaged.
“Now strip. I can’t stand to look at you in that filthy disguise,” Levi orders. Erwin listens and disrobes, throwing his heavy cloak on the floor together with his satchel. The coin purse clangs on the floor. Erwin stands in the middle of the dungeon in plain civilian clothing, like a pig before slaughter.
Levi crooks his eyebrow and extends his hand.
“Go on. Did I tell you to stop?”
Levi spits his orders in a calm but daring manner. Everything about him is measured and practiced; he is a perfectionist with an aura of aloof spontaneity. With deliberate movements, Erwin unbuttons his shirt. Sometimes he makes a show of it when he needs to be very convincing when funding for the Corps. But now he strips with no seduction as if he’s alone in the room. He throws his shirt on the floor, then strips down to his underwear. Levi isn’t even looking at him. Instead, he sits and looks at his gloved fingers.
The air is chilly and damp despite the incense-rich aroma and flickering candles. Erwin stands in his underwear, ignored by the man he hired to break him. Perhaps he doesn’t even deserve a speck of Levi’s attention.
But then, why is his cock throbbing in his underwear? Why is this mysterious man that calls himself the Viper so arousing?
Erwin takes off his socks, then pulls down his underwear. Only then he notices a twinkle of interest in Levi’s eyes. Blink, and you miss it. Or, perhaps, Erwin’s a vain man who takes pride in his well-endowed cock.
“Tch… Is this how you treat your clothes? Look at the mess you made! Disgusting,” Levi frowns and massages his temple. “Kneel. Fold it. Don’t be a pig.”
Erwin looks down at the pile of clothing lying on the floor, feeling a sudden spike of shame.
“Yes, Sir — sorry, Sir.” he croaks and kneels, folding his clothing. First, he flattens the pants, folding them in thirds. Then he tackles his shirt, doing his best to make it a perfect square. He imagines how he must look to Levi right now – kneeling on all fours, ass in the air, painfully hard, folding his clothing to please his reluctant master. He can’t even face the man in front of him, so he keeps his eyes low, staring at the hard floor.
The footsteps, light despite his heavy footwear, tap on the stone floor. From the corner of his eye, Erwin sees the metallic shine of Levi's toe-caps. Tch… he hears from above – an utterance of dissatisfaction.
“What about your socks?” Levi grumbles. “Did you really think this would be up to my standard?”
Erwin looks at his socks, rolled-up one into one another in a neat ball.
“This is how I always fold them, Sir,” Erwin responds. “This is how I learned to do it.”
“I knew it. You’re useless,” Levi says, stepping on Erwin’s back with one leg, digging the sole of his boot in the smalls of Erwin’s wide back. The rough, ribbed sole rubs his skin, leaving red footprints. Despite Levi’s petite stature, he presses into Erwin’s muscles with the force of a man twice his size.
God, It hurts…
“Well, you’re doing it wrong,” Levi’s saying, digging his heel deeper into Erwin’s back. “Fold it again. This time properly.”
Erwin unrolls his socks, smoothing them out on the stone floor.
“I bet you think you’re too clever to keep your room in order. Isn’t that right?”
Erwin gulps and thinks of his used room in Elmrich he seldom uses. It’s a narrow, austere room furnished with a bed, a table, and a single wooden chair. There are stacks of books on the floor – some sentimental schoolbooks from his childhood, some forbidden books inherited from his father. Yes, his room isn’t tidy. Cleaning is not something he enjoys or has time to do. Other more pressing things require his energy; plans, expeditions, budgets, negotiations… fundraising. But he bites his tongue. He is not here to explain his situation or make excuses for his negligence.
“Yes, I will do better. Sir. Show me a proper way to do it.”
The pressure of Levi’s boot lessens, but his foot remains firm on Erwin’s back.
“Ok, this is what you do,” Levi talks in a low tone, raspy but without an edge. “Take your dirty socks and put one on top of the other, heels up – yes, good. Ok, this is what you do next. Are you listening, you shithead? Make a criss-cross shape. Not like that — no, look, It’s crooked. Make the edges even. Ok, good, just like that.”
Levi waits after each step. He doesn’t push or rush Erwin but watches him struggle through each movement. He would make an excellent teacher in different circumstances.
“Hey, no slacking off. We aren’t done. Now, take the toe end of the bottom sock and fold it over the top. Ok, now tuck it. Yes, just like that. Now repeat the same motion with the other.”
Erwin folds the socks as instructed. However it’s sloppy and uneven, not even close to the perfect shape he knows Levi expects.
“Again,” Levi asserts, dismissing Erwin’s work. “This looks like shit.”
Levi offers no further instructions and watches Erwin struggle to remember the motions. This time, Erwin focuses on the task ahead of him, smoothing out his socks and aligning them edge to edge as he tucks and folds. After some fumbling, Erwin holds a symmetrical square of fabric. He breathes a sigh of relief, a swell of pride blooming in his chest.
“Better,” Levi says, stepping off Erwin’s back as a reward for a well-done task. “Looks like you might not be completely useless.”
“I am glad you think so,” Erwin says, looking up, finding the dominant’s steely eyes. “I’ll prove my worth. Sir, I’ll earn your respect.
A deep crease forms between Levi’s eyebrows. He crouches, and Erwin sees his face close up for the first time. Levi licks his sultry lips, plump and soft, wetting them in a lewd manner. Then he reaches for Erwin’s chin, his index ghosting the sensitive skin. His gloves are supple and well-worn. They fit him perfectly, so snug they could be his second skin. Erwin shivers, enjoying Levi’s touch — the highest reward for a well-executed task.
“I am a hard man to please, soldier-boy. You will need to do more than just fold your dirty socks.”
Levi glides his finger over Erwin’s mouth, tracing the curve of his upper lip. Erwin resists the urge to open his mouth. God, Erwin wants to taste the leather on his tongue. He yearns for Levi to fuck his fingers deep in his throat – make him gag.
“I know, Sir,” Erwin says, collecting his thoughts. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Oh yeah?” Levi sounds amused now. “And what do people say about me, Above?”
“That you’re a man of incredible skill and even greater strength. They say there’s no man better than you in this profession, Above or Below.”
“No,” Levi says, so close to Erwin’s mouth he can almost taste him. “You’re mistaken. I am not the best man you can hire – I’m the worst.”
He caresses Erwin’s face, tracing his cheekbones, the delicate skin behind his ears, and the protruding bump of his hooked nose. It’s tender, as if Levi’s memorizing his face with his fingertips, learning his features with the touch alone.
“I am your worst nightmare — your greatest mistake — your road to hell. So, what’s a pretty boy like you seeking from a man like me?” Levi asks, and for the first time, there is intrigue in his voice.
Punishment. Judgment. Annihilation.
Inquisitions.
“Your strength, skill, time — I will take whatever you offer,” Erwin confesses.
Levi’s fingers linger on his face, his eyes flickering with an expression Erwin can only describe as pity. But the moment is gone in a flash, and Levi withdraws his fingers.
“That’s the first clever thing you said today. Alright. Where’s the money?” Levi whispers against Erwin’s mouth, dangerously close — a ghost of a kiss.
Erwin feels his hot, minty breath. Like a centuries-old secret, he smells of leather and cologne, a great mystery. The urge to brush his nose in the man’s hair rises like a storm, setting him aflame. Oh, he wants to discover him, all of him. He feels a deep, unsettling desire to bury his face into Levi’s groin, smell him there, lick him, and suck his cock until he’s reduced to whimpers and uninhibited moans. The enigma of his frail punisher entrances him; the immensity of the power he wields hiding in that tiny body. He wonders if Levi could peel him apart and expose his rotten core – see him for who he is beneath the mask of the Commander; a failure, a traitor, a selfish egoist, and a needy, desperate slut.
“Hey, blondie. I asked where the money was.”
“In the satchel. Count it. It’s all there.”
“Two hundred coins, or you’re a dead man.”
Levi heads back toward his armchair, sitting down with relaxed confidence. Erwin watches the confident stride, swinging of his hips with each step. He’s a vision, a predator lurking in the shadows — a revelation.
“Come, bring it to me,” Levi orders. Erwin straightens his back, preparing to stand up, but before he flattens his feet, Levi stops him with a low hiss. “No – did I tell you to stand? Bring it to me on your knees.”
Erwin reaches for the satchel and drags his knees toward Levi’s armchair. His skin is damp, beads of cold sweat falling down his back. A sharp hissing noise buzzes in his eardrums. Erwin’s knees ache, but he ignores the discomfort, dragging his scraped knees as he approaches Levi. Pain is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is following Levi’s orders… listening to his instructions. For the first time in a long time, he empties his head of all thoughts.
He’s not in charge anymore.
He’s not the Commander.
“Stop. Good. Keep kneeling,” Levi says, leaning closer. “Give me your money.”
Levi weighs it in his hand, and then, without warning, he empties the coins on the floor right in front of Erwin’s kneeling body. The clang of metal coins echoes in the basement like heavy hail. Erwin looks up, eyes wide in surprise. “It’s all there – I counted it twice,” Erwin mutters, and then provokes: “If I miscounted, punish me.”
Levi frowns again and sniffs.
“You would like that. Wouldn’t you?”
Yes, that’s true. He wants to feel Levi’s petite yet powerful hands on his skin. Levi should slap him, spit on his face, and press the sole of his boot on the most sensitive places.
“Yes. That’s why I’m here,” Erwin discloses. “Isn’t that part of our agreement?”
“This is not your Mitras whorehouse where you can make the rules just because you have money to burn on pretty whores!” Levi raises his voice. “Here, there are no rules. No agreements. I can do whatever I want. That’s what you signed up for. Take it or leave it.”
Erwin doesn’t reply. He knows he is in no position to negotiate. The frustration rises in his body; he’s growing itchy, and the darkness creeps into his guts. There is an unspeakable, dangerous fantasy scratching from within, chewing him from the inside. He hoped Levi could be a person to satisfy his strange perversions. That he’s just as twisted and dangerous as Erwin.
So far, Levi has acted far too tame for Erwin’s liking. He’s beautiful and commanding, sure, but he hasn’t kicked, whipped, or bruised him — poured hot wax all over his naked body — chained him to the wall.
Erwin needs the pain. He wants the punishment.
The Commander rears his head, urging Erwin to demand Levi to play along and give Erwin what he needs. Enough of this farce.
I am paying you a quarter of my monthly wages to rough me up. Do it! Come on, earn your money, whore —
He bites his tongue and bows his head. It’s challenging to give the power to someone – to surrender without knowing the plan. Erwin doesn’t like chaos; instead, he prefers a calculated risk. There is something he wants out of this – deeper than pain. Nobody else can give it to him. Levi is still his best bet, a key to his darkest fancies. So Erwin should cooperate until Levi gives him what he wants.
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re a real freak, aren’t you, blondie?” Levi frowns, looking at Erwin as if trying to decipher a puzzle. “I still can’t figure out why you’re really here. But lucky you, I don’t give a shit. Go on, count the money, two hundred coins, or you will wish you had never been born.”
Erwin bends over, collecting the tossed coins, scooping them in a pile in front of Levi’s crossed legs. He separates the coins into three piles: gold Sinas, silver Roses, and bronze Marias – named after the daughters of their mythical ancestors.
“Twenty, forty, sixty – ” Erwin starts the count.
“Spread your legs, back straight, eyes on the floor,” Levi orders, commanding but calm. It’s the voice of authority Erwin has only heard some military officers use. Most of his superiors in the military used to shout, relying on sheer volume and aggression as an intimidation technique. Erwin has always found the opposite tactic more effective. Levi’s assertive but calm and collected. He speaks from above, each syllable measured but stern like he is training a badly behaved animal.
Erwin spreads his legs, exposing his painfully hard cock, glistening at the slit with beads of pre-cum. Erwin can’t recall the last time he was so aroused – so eager to stroke himself until he reaches his completion under Levi’s testing gaze.
“Look at you, such a big boy,” Levi snickers. “Leaking for me like a common whore. Didn’t know you’re such a slut, soldier.”
Erwin doesn’t waver and keeps counting.
“Eighty, hundred.”
Levi extends his leg and presses the sole of his leather boot into Erwin’s stomach, digging into his combat-scarred skin like he’s crushing a cockroach. A breath hitches in Erwin’s throat, but he doesn’t stop counting.
“Go on now, don’t stop. You’re only done when I tell you to.”
Don’t stop – Levi says with a twisted lip, giving Erwin a glimpse of what he could offer. Don’t stop, Erwin wants to shout. Press harder – lower – firmer.
Levi glides his foot higher, tracing Erwin’s muscular chest with slow, deliberate movement. He stops with a steel-capped toe under Erwin’s chin. Erwin’s heartbeat rises, thumping in his eardrums. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Fuck, he's what Erwin needs. This won't end well – their power exchange will make Erwin succumb to dizzying vertigo. He'll fall from impossible heights - down - down - lower than down - lower than low and land under Levi’s boot.
“Hundred and forty, fifty, three tens and four fives. There, two hundred coins for one hour with you.”
Levi hums and presses the rib of his boot to Erwin’s chin, firmly but without force. His boots are spotless, smelling like tobacco and shoe polish. The tip of his sole brushes against Erwin’s lips. He presses it into Erwin’s mouth and grinds it back and forth against his lips. Erwin dares to open his mouth, extend his tongue and lick the thick sole of Levi’s footwear.
“Eager slut,” Levi leans on the armchair and looks at Erwin with a smirk. “Two hundred coins to lick the boot of some underground rat. Fucking freak.”
Levi stills his foot and stops his toe-cap right below Erwin’s front teeth. He could break his teeth easily; one kick of his foot and Erwin would bleed from his mouth. Erwin doesn’t beg or whimper – he doesn’t make a sound. He looks up, locking eyes with Levi, kissing the cold metal.
Levi raises his eyebrow but doesn’t offer any words of praise. He’s testing him, Erwin realizes.
“Your boots are so clean,” Erwin offers, touching Levi’s boot, and cradling it in both hands. Even in heavy footwear, Levi’s foot is petite, smaller than Erwin’s outstretched hand.
“Shut up,” Levi hisses.
“Polished — spotless,” Erwin doesn’t waver. “I can see you take good care of them.”
“Tch…” Levi spits, pressing his sole back into Erwin’s cheek. “Yeah, I care for my belongings. Unlike you, a spoiled Sunwalker.”
“Spoiled – funny, nobody ever describes me like that.” Erwin places another kiss on the leather and licks it upward, pulling Levi closer like a drowning man clinging on the rope.
“Nah, I bet you never heard a lot of things. I bet everyone worships you because of your handsome face and smart tongue. But they don’t see who you really are. They don’t see what I see – ”
“Tell me, who do you see? Tell me – who am I?”
Levi growls and pulls his leg out of Erwin’s hands. He kicks him in the chest with full force, sending him flying to the ground. Erwin’s head crashes into the hard floor, his nape aching from the impact. He lies limp on his back, his body throbbing from crash. How can someone so small hold such immense power?
Levi jumps up like a predator striking his prey. He lands on his feet noiselessly, circling Erwin like a vulture, ready to devour the corpse of a scout left to rot in the grass. From his viewpoint, Erwin only sees a glimpse of his legs. Levi approaches him again, sitting on his stomach, twisting Erwin’s nipples, and sinking his fingers into the sensitive pink skin. A gasp escapes Erwin’s lips. The moment he opens his lips, Levi crouches forward and shoves folded socks into his mouth. He stuffs it so deep Erwin’s stomach turns, and acid rises to his throat. He tastes the damp, sweaty fabric on his tongue, both aroused and disgusted.
“I think you talk too much, and what’s worse, you like the sound of your voice,” Levi snaps his teeth, grinding his hips on Erwin’s stomach. He slaps him with the palm of his hand across his chest. His strikes are so swift; his arms are a blur. Erwin groans, rolling his neck in pain.
“You are a man who’s not used to following orders - ambitious, arrogant, selfish. You think you’re really special. Don’t cha?
Levi leans into his face, brushes his pointy nose against Erwin’s ear. He puts both hands around his neck, interlaces his thumbs, and squeezes the air out of Erwin’s throat. Erwin struggles to breathe, lying on the cold floor at the mercy of this vicious creature. Levi lessens the pressure and snaps his teeth in front of Erwin’s nose, glaring at him from above. Wispy strands of Levi’s dark hair fall on Erwin’s face, tickling his eyelids. Levi smirks, collects saliva in his mouth, and spits on Erwin’s face. The wet drool drips down his cheeks.
Suddenly, Levi stands up, feet on each side of Erwin’s thighs. He stands tall, like a titan staring down at Erwin with fierce eyes. With one decisive step, Levi presses his ribbed sole to Erwin’s throbbing cock. He doesn’t step on him with the full weight, but just enough to send a dull throb down Erwin’s spine, the pain swimming in his groin.
“Ain’t so special now, huh?”
“Mhhmm,” Erwin struggles to speak, drooling from the corners of his mouth.
“What was that? Can't hear you!”
“Hghh,” Erwin grunts “Mghhh”
Levi pulls the wet fabric from Erwin’s mouth and throws it at the floor.
“Don’t squeal like a pig! Let’s try it again. So, you think you’re special just because you’re a pretty soldier with a gigantic cock, huh?”
“No, Sir!”
Levi glides his foot on Erwin’s thigh, right on the ODM markings that are permanently bruised on his body. He tests the hardness of Erwin’s leg muscles, little by little, applying more weight. With a satisfied hum, he places his other foot on the other thigh and stands on Erwin with full weight. A low groan escapes Erwin’s lips. How can a person as delicate as Levi crush him with such firmness? The throbbing is persistent; swinging from sharp pangs to dull muscle-deep aches – a pendulum of torturous desire.
“You asked me who you are – you don’t need me to tell you. You already know!”
Levi takes a tiny step forward, balancing on Erwin’s body, checking its firmness like a new spring mattress. He leans over and spits on his cock, still stiff, although softening from the pain. Erwin is used to carrying heavy burdens; the murder of his father, the oppressive government, undefeatable hordes of titans, the deaths of his fellow Scouts…. his selfish pursuit of a childhood dream. Sometimes he thinks he’s crumbling under all the heaviness piling on his back, crushing him from above, below, and within. But the unfamiliar sensation of a human stepping on his thighs feels raw and fulfilling.
“Please — please, Sir?”
“What? Are you going to come already?” Levi’s grazing Erwin’s erection with the tip of his toe. “Huh, do you like being crushed like a bug, big guy?”
“Yes, I — I like it — “
“Well, too bad. You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to. Understood?” Levi remains toying with his cock.
“Yeah,” Erwin gasps. “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t dare.”
Levi shifts his weight and presses the sole of his boot on Erwin’s cock.
“Good, you’re learning. Now tell me, pretty boy, who are you really?”
“I’m a liar,” Erwin croaks, voice hoarse from pain. “I’m selfish, cruel –”
“Yeah, you are, aren’t you? What else?” Levi places his toe right below Erwin’s balls but doesn’t press into them.
“An idiot – a murderer.”
Levi presses forward, digging into the soft underside of Erwin’s balls. A cold chill runs down Erwin’s spine as he waits for the impact. Levi steps on the floor and gives a light kick between Erwin’s legs. An unbearable, sharp pain spikes in his groin, taking the breath out of his lungs. Erwin’s vision darkens like thunderstruck, his jaw pressed and teeth grinding like an old mill. He cannot think or speak. From a hazy distance, he hears Levi’s rough voice shouting.
What else? Tell me! Who are you really?
“A whore,” Erwin whimpers, fighting the pain. “I am – a weak, pathetic man.” Erwin struggles to speak; sweat runs down his temples, a white noise hissing in his ears while he fights the urge to shout in pain. “ I ruin – everything I touch – I’m a — I’m a monster, Sir.”
Erwin’s panting, gasping for breath in a rush of thrilling panic. His heartbeat pulses like a war drum; his temples, ears, and throat all the way to the abused groin. Levi moves his boot away from Erwin’s balls. In a spell of despair, Erwin feels the urge to curl up in a ball, cover his abused groin and hide away. The air is impossibly light; just breathing feels like a great chore. His head swims with throbbing discomfort. Levi kneels above Erwin’s head and touches his temples, massaging the tension with feathery fingers. He traces Erwin’s eyelids, running his finger over his eye socket, where the skin is paper thin. Levi offers such unbearable lightness after torturing him with the heaviest of weights.
“Come here,” Levi murmurs and pats his folded legs. Erwin rolls his eyes back and nudges his head in Levi’s lap. He smells like a summer day; lemons and sage. Erwin thinks of the meadows outside the Walls, blue horizons, giant sky-reaching trees, riding through the wheat fields with a gust of wind tangling his hair. Levi runs his fingers through Erwin’s hair, playing with it like a child weaving a flower crown.
Has Levi ever seen flowers? Has he ever felt the simple joy of basking in the sun on a lazy summer afternoon? No. Probably not.
The pain ebbs and flows from burning feverish spells to dull aches, but Levi’s touch is soothing.
“Has anyone kicked you in the nuts before?” Levi whispers, gliding his fingers lower, down Erwin’s cheekbones, his lips, chin, the curve on his neck.
Erwin shakes his head. “No. Never.”
“Ah, I figure that’s the case,” Levi says, tracing Erwin’s collarbone. “Someone once told me it hurts worse than getting your dick bitten off by a titan. I just kicked you a little. You should be fine after a few moments.”
“Mmm,” Erwin leans into Levi’s touch, turning his head, and smelling the fabric of his trousers. “It was a worthy punishment, Sir. I overstepped.”
“Worthy?” Levi snickers. “You’re such a fucked up guy.”
“Yes, Sir. Whatever you say, Sir.”
Erwin closes his heavy eyelids and lets out a long exhale. He allows himself to relax and sink into the mud. The pain below his navel lessens. In the dark safety behind the closed eyelids, Erwin follows the tumultuous beating of the heart in his eardrums and aching body. Then, a pause in which the entire world grows blank. Then again, the shuffling of the fabric, the muffled sound of Levi’s breaths, eerie suspense – a chill of a blade on his throat.
It's impossible to mistake a tingling of the knife digging into the sensitive skin like an icy spear. Levi’s got him in a death grip; one flick of the wrist and Erwin’s a dead man. Death is so close Erwin can taste it at the tip of his tongue; the sweetness of an earned rest and the bitterness of life without legacy. His swings from a thoughtless void to a shuddering terror, followed by a rushing desire to lapse into madness and dare Levi to carve his name into Erwin’s body.
Erwin’s thoughts are incoherent, a twisted web of contradictions. The only inescapable fact is the blade's edge, a knife pressed on his throat, dancing in Levi’s gloved fingertips.
End it, Levi – release me from my suffering.
“Shhh,” Levi hushes him, moving the blade's edge from Erwin’s throat to his lips. “Don’t move.”
Levi flips the knife around and presses the sharp side on Erwin’s lips. Erwin tilts his head up, meeting Levi’s pointed gaze. But in his eyes, he finds no bloodlust. Levi’s still like a marble statue; hands steady, breath measured.
“Good, just like that.” His voice is a husky whisper.
With practiced elegance, Levi flicks the knife and points the sharp end to Erwin’s face. The hard strands of hair fall on his face like a veil of death, dividing the earthly world from the great unknown. Divine. The blade’s edge is freshly sharpened. That’s the only world that comes to Erwin’s mind when looking at Levi; he’s mesmerizing, like an ancient deity.
“You –” Erwin starts but bites his tongue.
“What?”
Levi crooks his eyebrow, an invitation.
“You’re beautiful.”
Erwin’s lip catches the blade as he speaks. From the nick, hot blood drops stain his lips. He tastes the metal on his tongue – a reminder he’s alive.
“You’re a fool,” Levi scoffs.
“Maybe so. But it’s the truth.”
“Mmm.” Levi licks his lips and glides the tip of the knife over the apple of Erwin’s neck. He continues to drag the blade over Erwin’s body, like a painter sketching his masterpiece. The knife doesn’t hurt; Levi’s movements are so precise he leaves no nicks or cuts. “Flattery doesn’t work on me, soldier boy. But threatening your life might work on you – you’re as hard as a rock.”
Despite the recent impact and thundering, nerve-splitting, Erwin’s cock has hardened under Levi’s skilled touches, tingling with pain and strange pleasure. He could come untouched if Levi ordered him to.
“Do you want to come?” Levi asks, pressing the blade right into Erwin’s heart without breaking the skin.
“Yes,” Erwin confesses. “Yes, I do – Sir.”
“I have a few rules,” Levi whispers. “First, if you touch me without my permission, I will kill you. I’m serious; I’ve done it before. Second, don’t ask if you can fuck me. It’s annoying and won’t happen; no matter how much you beg. Third, you can jerk yourself off, but you’re not allowed to come before I tell you to. Is that clear?”
Erwin swallows a knot in his throat and wets his parched lips.
“Yes, thank you, Sir.”
“Alright, stand up,” Levi orders, but his voice is without an edge. Erwin does, eagerly scrambling on his feet. “Stand here. Hands behind your back.”
Levi heads back toward his armchair and sits on it like a king on the throne. He crosses his legs and points to a spot in front of his feet.
“Come here, kneel in front of me – good – now touch yourself.”
“How do you want me to do it, Sir?” Erwin asks, low and hungry.
“Hmm,” Levi seems content with this answer. “Spread your legs nice and wide for me. Show me that fat cock of yours. Look at you – you’re as big as a horse. Too bad you can’t do anything about it, huh?”
Erwin spreads his thighs and bucks his hips forward, exposing his cock to Levi. He’s making the show of it – seducing him with all the moves that make the Mitras Councilmen and their wives open their purses and fund every insane, reckless idea Erwin presents to them.
“God, you’re filthy,” Levi says with a smile. “Good, now twist those fat nipples. Make them all nice and red for me.”
Erwin grabs his protruding pectorals and finds his nipples with his fingertips. He squeezes them, twisting them left and right until they are red and full of fresh blood. It’s a good hurt, the raw and honest sensation that wakes a man from a dreamless void. The nails dig into the most delicate skin at the tip of his pink bud. Any more pressure and the blood would burst from within.
“Pain slut,” Levi hisses. “Don’t twist so hard, or you will come without my permission, and then you’re gonna be in trouble.”
Erwin wants to know what Levi would do if he disobeyed. What would be the means Levi would choose for his punishment? The idea of the unknown is both titillating and excruciating. One thing Erwin hates the most is being kept in the dark.
“Now, put your hand around your cock, right at the base,” Levi instructs him further. “Squeeze — nice and slow,” Erwin does. He grabs himself in his hand and closes his fist, pressing into his hard flesh.
“Good, keep going,” Levi smirks and smacks his lips. “Up and down, good, just like that. Show me that big cock of yours.”
Erwin strokes himself, falling into repetitive motions, following the inner rhythm. He looks up at Levi, seeking further instructions.
“Stop. Hold it — don’t move.” Levi extends his foot and nudges Erwin’s fist. “Do you like it when I tell you what to do?”
“Yes, Sir. Nghh, very much so.”
“Good, now keep going. Go faster.” Levi licks his lips. Erwin obeys without thinking, slipping into blissful emptiness.
“Stop.”
Erwin does, and Levi rewards him with a gentle grinding of his sole.
“Now squeeze.” Erwin does, increasing the pressure of his fist. “Harder!”
“Yes, ma — master —” Erwin mumbles through gritted teeth, fighting the pressure.
“Master?! Am I your master already? After the first time, you've paid for me?” Levi slides his foot up and down, dictating the stroking of Erwin’s fist. His touch has no force; teasing instead of pushing. “Master….mmm, I like it.”
Levi shifts his weight and touches the tip of Erwin’s cock with the tip of his toe, right on the glistening slip.
“I think this calls for a toast. What do you think?” Levi seems in a good mood. His facial expression isn’t one of bored condemnation for the first time. “Close your eyes; I’ll be right back with you, big guy.”
Levi jumps out of his chair, tiptoeing around the room like a thief. His footsteps echo across the empty basement chamber. The door creaks, opening and closing. Erwin waits, tugging on his cock with painful patience. After a few moments, Levi returns and sits back in the chair without a word. The glass clings in his hands, the liquid swirling in the bottle as Levi opens it with an audible pop.
“Look at me,” Levi orders. He’s holding a bottle of amber liquid in a glass bottle with no label. Levi shakes the bottle and tosses it from hand to hand. “Are you a whiskey man, soldier?” Levi taunts.
“Yes. I enjoy it after a long day of work,” Erwin replies, kneeling closer to Levi.
“Do you think of getting beat up while sitting alone in your room?” Levi continues.
Erwin shrugs. “Yes, Sir. Sometimes. When I
have the time.”
Levi smirks and shuffles on the chair, crouching like a voucher. He leans over as if he’s going to tell Erwin a secret, something nobody else has the privilege to know. “I got this from one of my clients. It’s supposed to be some fancy pig piss. But – I don’t like how it tastes. But maybe a man like you – a hardworking man would appreciate it more, huh?”
Erwin frowns and waits, unsure how to respond. Levi’s expression changes from coy to victorious.
“Head back. Open wide for me.”
Erwin does, expecting Levi to pour the sharp liquor into his mouth. But Levi doesn't. Instead, he takes a swig out of the bottle. Erwin watches, mesmerized, as Levi’s cheeks fill with warm liquid.
Levi leans forward, tilting his face as if trying to capture Erwin’s lips in a kiss. Erwin’s head spins from the anticipation of Levi’s sweet lips dipped in alcohol. He lengthens his neck, waiting on a kiss like a divine miracle. Levi’s lips pause inches away from Erwin’s face; hot breath warming his face. He leans back and spits the liquor straight into Erwin’s eager mouth. Whiskey tastes bitter-sweet, like smoke with a lingering hint of vanilla. It oozes down his tongue, burns his throat, and swirls in his belly.
A bite of a viper – a poisonous kiss.
Levi watches Erwin swallow with a cunning smile, like a cat about to pounce on his prey. Erwin doesn’t move but extends his tongue, encouraging Levi to feed him with the sweetest sin.
“I won’t waste more good whiskey on a pathetic man like you. You got your treat.”
It could be the alcohol or a mad adrenaline rush that makes Erwin bolder. He’s intoxicated with this man; his punisher, his salvation, his darkest secret. More than anything, he’s drunk on his weakness; naked, on his knees, at the mercy of a sultry rouge. He’s no longer a Commander. Instead, he is a nameless man wishing to lower himself and sink deep down – lower than down – lower than the Underground. So he bows his head and brushes his nose against the sole of Levi’s boot. Levi tries to shake him off, but Erwin kisses it instead.
“Please, just one more shot — one more drop.”
“No,” Levi remains stern and takes a swig, filling his cheeks with the golden liquid just to spit it to the side. “Filthy thing. If you want it so bad, then beg for it.”
“Please,” Erwin pecks the hard leather, leaving a glistening trail on the boot’s surface. He licks Levi’s calf up and down like a deprived dog. “ Please, Master.”
Levi shrugs and passes him the bottle. “Here, take it, you addict. Drink the pig piss. I don’t fucking care.”
“No, not like that.” Erwin looks up and meets Levi’s eyes.
“Then how do you want it?” Levi breathes, leaning closer.
“From your mouth, Sir.”
Levi nods, juggling a bottle from hand to hand. The tension in the air is palpable; razor sharp, like the whiskey and Levi’s eyes.
“That’s disgusting.” Levi rolls his eyes.
“No,” Erwin shouts, for the first time using the booming voice of the Commander. “I like it. It tastes like you – bittersweet and deadly.”
Levi crooks his eyebrow and narrows his eyes, the mistrust is written on his face. After a few more wet slurps, he wraps his lips around the bottleneck and sucks on the glass, lewd and sloppy. His mouth makes wet slurping noises, sacking the glass with gusto. God, it looks obscene, so masterful and suggestive. Erwin watches Levi’s lips, fucking the bottle back and forth, imagining those same lips around his cock. He would pay his year’s salary to feel the heat of Levi’s mouth, touch his beautiful body – fuck him good and hard.
Levi’s lips stop at the bottle's rim, and he takes a swig. Erwin angles his mouth and drops his head, waiting to be fed hot, golden liquor without being asked what to do. Levi leans over Erwin, so close the wispy tips of his dark locks fall into Erwin’s eyes. He brushes his nose against Erwin’s and, with a fervor of an enraged god, spits the whiskey. The alcohols flow down his tongue, slashes on his cheeks, tiny droplets landing on his cheeks and dripping down his face. Levi repeats the same gesture; drinks, and spits, again and again until Erwin’s last grasp on his sanity drowns in orange liquor.
Erwin’s hand finds his cock, neglected and throbbing. He tugs on his hardness, chasing the blinding light shining on the horizon. His fingers are drunk and lazy – the pressure of his hand seems inadequate in Levi’s presence.
“Keep going, just like that.” Levi’s voice is husky. “Show me how you jerk off that giant cock.”
A low grunt escapes Erwin’s lips; he’s already so aroused he won’t last much longer. His heavy head dangles from his neck like a boneless puppet. Erwin wants someone to pull the strings and guide his hands and hips to completion.
Take away my duties, carry my burdens, you make a choice –
As if reading his mind, Levi whispers in his ear. “Spit on yourself. Make it good and wet.”
Erwin does, without hesitation. His hands glide smoother now, each stroke rising like a storm. “Mmm, good boy,” Levi rewards him.
Erwin looks up and finds Levi’s face blurry but luminous – a northern star to a lost wanderer.
“Go faster, right and over – yeah – keep going,” Levi’s voice darkens, sinking under his skin, flowing in his veins. “Imagine your hands are mine, and I am the one touching you instead. Would you like that?”
“Ye-yes, please –” Erwin licks his lips, “I – just want to –”
“Keep going, go faster, make it wet again.”
“I want to –”
“You wanna come? Well, you can’t. You don’t have permission yet.”
“No. No – I want to – on your boot. Please let me fuck it, Sir.”
For a moment, Levi’s silent and unmoving, frozen in time. His eyes dance from Erwin to his boot, then back to Erwin, contemplating. Then finally, he shrugs and leans on the side of the chair, throwing one hand over the armchair and extending both legs horizontally in the air.
“Fine. Do it, you slut. I allow you to touch my boot with your greedy hands.”
Erwin crawls closer to the side of the chair, staring at the narrow opening between Levi’s calves and ankles.
“Go on – fuck it like you would fuck me if I let you.”
Erwin springs forward, standing up and grabbing Levi’s heels. He angles his hips with Levi’s ankles, pressing into the smooth leather. Levi smirks and crisscrosses his legs, the lower one under Erwin and the upper over his throbbing erection. The steel and leather are rubbing against his balls. This way, Erwin’s cock slides through Levi's pressed legs, creating the tight lock. Erwin thrusts his hips and fucks upwards, testing the friction, easing into the novel titillating sensation. Levi’s calves drag up and down his length. It’s obscene – it’s wrong – but he can’t stop himself.
“Is that the best you can do, big guy? I thought you would fuck me like a man, not like a dickless titan.”
Something snaps in Erwin. He grabs Levi’s ankles in his hands, firm and demanding, then slides his fingers lower to the soles of the boots. Erwin’s not a coward, and he certainly doesn’t fuck like one. He spits on Levi’s crossed legs and smears the wet saliva coating his cock. Levi's reigns snap, and Erwin thrusts, losing himself in the rhythmic snapping of his hips.
“Does that feel good?” Levi’s voice is intoxicating. “Mmm, looks like you like it –”
Erwin always fucks to please his lover; caring, and observant. But he never lets go – always keeps his passion sealed. But now there is no more hiding, no need to keep up appearances to preserve reputation. His legs tremble as he loses himself, answering the call of his twisted fantasies. He rubs and rubs and rubs, eyes shut, mouth agape. Instead of Levi’s boots, he imagines his tight ass, hot and slick with oil and cum, sucking him in. Erwin dreams of burying himself to the hilt into Levi, holding his pale body, completely naked except for the pair of thigh-high boots. And Levi would cross his legs around him, moaning and whimpering like he’s never felt pleasure like that Erwin’s giving him now. Erwin, oh Erwin – you fuck me so good – so fucking good…. Erwin’s fantasies bring him closer and closer to the edge.
“I’m – I’m –”
“What? Wanna come, huh, soldier?
“I’m close - I won’t last –” Erwin grunts, mercilessly fucking Levi’s calves.
“Beg.”
“I need to –”
“Need? You don’t get to need anything in here. Beg like you mean it.”
“Sir – please, please – Master, I – let me”
Levi twists his ankles and squeezes Erwin between them, adding just enough friction to tip Erwin over the edge.
“Look at me,” Levi orders, turning his head to meet Erwin’s eyes. “Come for me in five – four –” another twist and press. Erwin thinks he’ll lose his mind from holding back. “Three, two….one.”
Erwin comes on command, spilling himself hot and thick over Levi’s boots. He’s dizzy, buzzing from adrenaline and eye-rolling pleasure. He’s soaring, head filled with nothing but Levi.
Levi, Levi, Levi…
His absolution – his salvation.
“Fuck,” Levi growls, looking at his come-stained boots with utter disgust. “I’ve never seen a man come so much,” he whispers, almost impressed. “Now, clean your filth. Lick.”
Fighting to catch a breath, limbs like wet clay, Erwin drops to his knees again and hugs Levi’s leg, licking his salty cum from the leather. It’s humbling – crawling on his knees, tasting his pent-up seed. Levi’s right; it’s disgusting – unbecoming of a Commander. A wave of shame hits him, making Erwin shiver as he glides his tongue over the tops of Levi’s boots to the metallic toe-caps.
“You missed a spot,” Levi shoves his foot over to Erwin’s mouth, waiting for Erwin to diligently clean it up. “Good job.”
Levi leans in and touches Erwin’s head, running his fingers through his damp hair. Erwin drops his head and rests it on Levi’s thighs.
“I am glad I could serve you well, Master,” Erwin mumbles, closing his eyes.
For an eternal moment, everything is right in the world; no more titans or walls – gone are the days of the oppressive monarchy, starvation, and scheming. Erwin’s free of it – all of it. He’s standing on a shore of an unreachable place called the sea; a fabrication weaved out of his father’s tales and his own childhood dreams. Levi’s fingers are a gentle breeze, his thighs wet sand.
It’s done – I don’t need to fight – I did it.
“Blondie,” Levi’s voice wakes him up from the reverie. “Your time’s up.”
Erwin opens his eyes, disoriented, and looks up. Levi gives him a curt nod, pulling away. He crosses his arms and legs, changing his demeanor from sultry to sullen.
“There is a bucket with water in the corner,” Levi points, speaking in a low, even voice. “If your nuts or thighs bruise, apply some ointment and ice packs. I didn’t rough you a lot, considering you’re a first-time customer.”
“Understood,” Erwin says, returning to himself. “I won’t need much time to clean up and dress.”
“Okay, let me give you some privacy,” Levi says and leans over, touching Erwin’s cheek. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Just like that, Levi picks up the money and leaves the room with the rhythmic footsteps, and thumbs tucked in his pockets. He closes the door behind him as silent as a specter. Without him, the room is unbearably silent; damp, and hostile. Erwin shakes his foggy head, rolling his shoulder blades. He stands up and walks toward the wooden bucket filled with lemon-scented water. Like a drunk man trying to sober up, Erwin splashes the chilly water onto his face. Then, he takes a sponge and washes the sweat and cum from his body. The tender, sour flesh on the thighs and lower stomach is bruising pink. In a day or two, he’ll be adorned with purple markings; a reminder of the well-spent two hundred coins.
After he’s clean and presentable, Erwin picks up the folded clothes from the floor and dresses up, each garment as heavy as led, weighing him down. It’s time to return to the Sun and pretend to be the savior of Humanity. What a farce….
Erwin picks up his empty coin purse. He waits for a few moments longer for Levi’s return.
Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait for a long time because Levi appears at the door the next moment, stepping into the room.
“So, was that good for you? You had something like that in your mind?” Levi asks, looking at Erwin with a raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t sure what kind of stuff you were into.”
“Yes,” Erwin offers, closing the gap between them. “You are exactly what I hoped you to be.”
Erwin reaches for the inner pocket and takes a handful of golden coins. “Here,” he opens his palm, extending fifty more coins to Levi.
Levi looks up with a frown. For the first time, Erwin grasps the height difference between them. Levi’s painfully thin, reaching barely past Erwin’s shoulder. Levi utters a soft tch and clicks his tongue.
“You already paid me,” Levi shakes his head and declines.
“I know. And you are worth double what I paid,” Erwin says, placing money in Levi’s palms. “But I hoped I could buy your discretion, Levi.”
Levi’s eyes snap open upon hearing his real name. He searches Erwin’s eyes for a moment and then nods and closes his fingers around the gold, tucking the coins in his pockets.
“Sure. My lips are sealed, blondie.”
“Good,” Erwin says, reaching for Levi’s cheek, tracing the edge of his jawline, and feeling the creamy smoothness of his skin. “Pleasure doing business with you, Levi. You’ll be hearing from me again about arranging the next meeting.”
Levi pulls away and lowers his eyes, retrieving back to the shadows. Erwin turns around and reaches for the door handle. As he steps out of the room, he hears Levi’s voice calling after him, clear and stern once again.
“Hope to see you again soon, Commander Smith.”
