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The few minutes before Eren and Mikasa arrive on the airship are aggravating on an unspeakable level.
The hot steam coming from his severed limbs act as a handicap that impedes any malicious intent, keeping everyone at ease from the fear that he’ll pull a move and kill them all. But the way Levi sees it—it just means he’s alive, healing. He’s still a threat no matter the lack of limbs.
For the sake of everyone on the airship, his gaze never leaves him.
And in return, neither does Zeke’s.
“The hell are you staring at?”
His remark barely elicits a response, or at least one that he would’ve wanted. His mouth stays shut and he faces forward, but his eyes have intentions of their own as they look him in the eyes, venturing south, a little too south, and then back up to his face, shamelessly sizing him up with a passive yet mocking expression on his face.
Levi stands there, almost too stunned for words.
There’s not a shred of fear in this man’s eyes. After being on the other end of his blade, getting it shoved into his mouth in utter and complete defeat—this hairy buffoon has the audacity to make that face.
Just as he takes a step toward him, the latch to the airship door opens and his boot itches toward a different Jaeger.
The sight of Eren alone warrants a kick at full strength, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit some of it came from Zeke’s little stunt just now. Though as they exchange words for the first time in a long while, it suffices to say his anger and disappointment slowly become Eren’s fault entirely.
Wishing that at least one brother is spared from being a piece of shit is apparently asking for too much.
The frustration he holds for Eren proves itself once again when Jean bursts through the door. With a bruised and bloodied kid at each side, it grabs everyone’s undivided attention.
“Who are these brats?”
His question turns expressions of confusion into abysmal horror as Jean begins to speak. Lobov and Sasha have been killed.
Levi doesn’t move. A sharp pain disturbs his heart, hitting his chest and prickling it harshly before enveloping it in a sort of merciful, numbing cage that dulls the shock; first into disbelief, then into acceptance.
How quickly his body goes through this process now. How exponentially shorter it’s come to be throughout the years. He's been told that he should feel grateful, but indifference for convenience sake has always felt intrinsically inhumane to him.
As Mikasa and Armin run to their friend to say their last goodbye, Hange and himself are left to deal with the idiots bunched up in the corner.
Their conversation quickly reveals their collective stupidity—Zeke’s ‘miscalculations’ and Yelena’s childish negligence. He learns that both their actions led to unnecessary complications that could’ve been avoided and the longer he has to stand here and look at all their faces, the more he feels like kicking them off the airship, gearless and all.
He turns to Zeke. “That must have been why you threw more rocks at us than initially planned. I’d call that one hell of an improv act,” he says, his eyes piercing into him. “Wouldn’t you agree, beardy?”
Zeke stares up at him, face still infuriatingly aloof.
“Don’t glare at me like that, Levi. What if I piss myself?” he mocks. “You’re a pretty good actor yourself, considering how much you actually want to kill me.”
Oh, so the monkey has jokes.
“I’m the type of person who likes to save the best part of my meal for last,” he answers, stepping forward. “That way, I can really savor the taste.”
Zeke raises an eyebrow, appearing addled. Levi realizes the implications of his statement after it leaves his mouth and for the first time in his life, he thinks his quick-witted foul mouth might have just turned into a double edged sword. But a slip up like this is deserving of some resurgence, so he stands tall, face firm—his innate tenacity unwavering.
The rest of the ride is just as insufferable, but ignorant of what’s to come after this, he wishes he could’ve appreciated the last few moments of his freedom.
From one ride to the next, Zeke is forcibly adhered to his hip the same way a mother always has a firm grip on her menace of a child out in public.
Forcibly would be faulty to an extent, though. Being the only man with the ability to take down the beast titan with ease, it’s a given that he’s been assigned the position as babysitter—he doesn’t trust anyone else, nor does anyone trust themselves.
He chose to be here on his own accord, undoubtedly for the unfulfilled promise that needs to be resolved.
That being said, his long journey to revenge couldn’t have been made more detestable.
“So, your reports say you were victorious,” he says, letting go of the small curtain and looking back at Levi. “Ignorance is truly a frightening thing.”
His pretentious attitude ticks him off, craving to humble him until he’s flat on the ground, head underneath the hard sole of his boot.
“If I send your dead body to Marley and reveal your little plan, your grandparents are done for,” he reminds him. “But if this secret plan of yours is real, I can wait to chop you up, even if it takes just a little bit longer.”
“How gracious of you, really,” he says, unimpressed. “But can’t I meet Eren before you chop me up?”
“Not a chance,” he denies him. “And what are you in such a rush for, anyway? We’ve got the finest hotel, just for you.”
That somehow catches Zeke’s attention.
“A hotel?” he questions, tilting his head. “Just the two of us, I hope?”
His eyes peer down in a not so subtle fashion, letting his gaze linger, and it’s not until now that Levi realizes the way he’s staring at him and the way he stared at him on the airship are one and the same.
“My eyes are up here, you perverted piece of shit.”
The bastard looks up, feigning innocence.
Levi lets out a string of uncivilized, acrimonious curse words in his head, letting them run rampant as a means to cope with the newfound idea that the subhuman in front of him has taken a liking to him.
A quick and easy vengeance is only hypothetical, an unattainable dream. He already knew this from almost every occurrence in his life. He just didn’t know the world would get this much of a thrill from making the very man he wants to kill develop an attraction to him. His life couldn’t be more of a joke.
“Sorry, captain,” he says. “I got distracted.”
Levi glares, wondering what’s stopping himself from giving him a sharp kick to the shin and blaming it on a random reflex.
“Get distracted one more time and I’m ripping out your eyes from their sockets.”
“Yes sir,” he complies, crossing his arms and shifting his attention back to the small opening of the window. After a minute or so, he glances back at Levi. “Think you can stop glaring at me?”
“No,” he answers curtly.
The short response does its job. He gives a small huff but keeps his mouth shut, eyes averted and fixed on the window, and luckily for Levi that’s how the remainder of the ride carries on. If Zeke had the grit to continue the already volatile conversation, a dead body would’ve rolled out the carriage by the time they left the walls. But with the lack of words exchanged, it leaves him deeply absorbed in his thoughts.
Knowing Zeke has some sort of attraction to him changes absolutely nothing; not his feelings, nor motives. He just finds it bizarre, if anything, wondering why he’s choosing to outwardly express his interest considering all the circumstances laid out on the table.
Perhaps it’s a way to pass the time, or maybe something even worse, like a distraction.
He almost laughs.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. He won’t play along for his amusement and the second he’s given permission to kill him, there won’t be any hesitation on his part.
He keeps his eyes on him for most of the ride, but by a certain point, he swears he can commit all his physical features to memory; his slightly wavy blond locks blending down to his well-kept beard, the bulky glasses sitting on the bridge of his defined nose, his broad shoulders giving him that overall large build.
He shifts a bit in his seat. They’re nothing more than plain observations, though he admits that it’s strange having himself point out and distinguish all these intricate features of him within such a close proximity. Then again, maybe it’s strange because he’s finally in such close proximity like this, certainly less than an arm’s length away, yet he’s unable to sink his blade into the skin of his nape, all on account of the higher-ups who think they know better by keeping him around.
How stupidly annoying.
They eventually make it to the outskirts of wall Rose, the enormous slab of ugly gray stone no longer an obstruction as they leave the stuffy carriage behind, taking in the beautiful view of the landscape for a few moments before meeting up with the scouts accompanying them to their destination.
There’s about a dozen brave individuals along with two wagons full of supplies for their little camping adventure out in the woods—he jokes, but he can’t mask the slight worry on his face at the thought of this being anywhere near a short outing rather than the long and tedious waiting game he knows it’ll come out to be.
He walks over to the unoccupied horse, gently petting its head and feeling its rough, dark mane under his palm as he allows it to become familiar and secure with his presence, wanting the ride to be just as pleasant for the horse as it will be for him. He takes his spot on the saddle once he feels like they’ve warmed up to each other.
Zeke hops in the wagon right after and makes himself comfortable between all the barrels of water and bags of food, and it’s not until now that he appreciates the fresh air and generous amount of free space that the confined carriage had deprived him of.
They reach the forest around midday.
As they come to a stop, Zeke stretches his neck up in an attempt to take it all in. “This is my hotel?”
“Any complaints?” he asks. “You won’t find better lodging than this.” He expects a snarky reply but to his surprise, he looks more intrigued than disappointed or annoyed. Levi looks up as well, the sight undoubtedly beautiful but too intimately eerie for his liking. “A forest with trees that grow as high as eighty meters tall, it won’t be easy to get out on your own. No rocks for you to play with, either.”
“Looks like a fun spot for lots of vertical maneuvering, too,” he mumbles, seemingly not too interested in what Levi has to say. “Still...nothing like this exists anywhere else. Even my titan form feels like an insect compared to these monsters.”
Oblivious to his own facial expressions, his face softens, forgetting for a moment where he is and why he’s here. With what amazing, yet very limited things Levi has seen in the outside world, he’d expect there to be forests at this scale too. It’s hard to believe, but then the red band around Zeke’s arm is a harsh reminder of how limited his view of the world is too.
“What do you say, captain,” he continues, turning to him. “I’d like to show Gabi and Falco this vast wilderness as well.”
The glare reappearing on his face is almost instinctual. “Whether or not they get to see this is up to you.”
He directs his horse to keep moving forward, the trees towering over them as they enter the forest.
The early afternoon sun seeps through the rich green foliage covering the tree tops and Levi sneaks a glance upwards, admiring the view of the leaves rustling against the breezy wind and letting in fragments of light shine upon the world below. Though as they wander deeper, the solacing light becomes more and more scarce.
With what he thinks is an adequate distance, about a good half hour of riding, he decides to settle on a decently spacious opening up ahead, large tree trunks surrounding the perimeter of the defoliated area. The way everyone quietly sighs in relief as he announces their camping spot doesn’t have him surprised in the slightest when they all practically leap off their horses.
They divide the work amongst each other; most setting up the tents, others collecting drywood for the fire they soon need to have ready before nightfall, and a few scouts doing their small part by stringing several hammocks up on the trees and placing crates around the fire for leisure sitting.
They've all finished setting everything up just shy of the sun setting, finally getting to make themselves comfortable.
Levi sits down on one of the crates, Zeke on the opposite end. Everyone else helps themselves to the plentiful rations in the wagon, Levi not particularly hungry as the scouts gather around the fire with their meals for the night.
What he is particularly hungry for though, is information that he can pry from his enemy.
His enemy is courteous though, hostile to the idea of an interrogation. Almost every question receives an answer. And by the end of it, there’s an untold story that surfaces, horrifying him in ways that he never thought imaginable.
“You called it “that village”. It’s name was Ragako. It was a village full of Eldians that you slaughtered, you bearded shit.”
“I did it out of necessity, not because I wanted to. If Marley had learned that my true allegiance was to the Eldian Restoration, I would’ve never been able to bring hope to this island.”
“Necessity,” he repeats, mockingly, the taste acrid on his tongue. “Those people’s lives meant nothing to you."
“You must’ve been real popular with the ladies,” he jabs, appearing genuinely displeased. “But it’s not nice to make assumptions about other people’s feelings, you know.”
“I know,” he mumbles to himself, unapologetic of his harsh words when they’re rightfully deserved, but still peeved at Zeke’s insult. “And I was popular enough…”
“Not as much as with the gentleman, I imagine,” he adds, unable to go through a single conversation without slipping in his atrocious flirting. “Now, when are you going to let me meet Eren?”
The conversation shifts again.
“That’s not my call, so quit asking. You’re not the only one waiting for orders.”
Zeke scoffs. “If they think they have time to just wait around, they’re mistaken.”
“For once, we agree.”
They remain where they sit but the conversation drifts, dying off to make room for the light chatter from the scouts.
For the most part, this is how the next few days go by.
They sit together when they’re hungry, occupying themselves separately when they’re not. Their shifts to stay on guard are constantly exchanged back and forth to give each other the opportunity to catch up on sleep, and the bare essentials are generally met. Everyone’s content with that. But as it nears into an entire week, every monotonous day drags on and the dull sense of routine affects even the most strong willed ones of the group.
Kicking dirt and rocks becomes the only form of entertainment they have and even Zeke offers to give one of the obviously bored scouts his book to read at some point, saying he already finished it and doesn’t mind lending it to someone else, but the young scout awkwardly declines him.
Levi rolls his neck and kneads the stiff muscles in his shoulder, feeling restless as well.
Though at least Zeke is always there to help replace that restlessness with a murderous agitation. Not a single day has gone by where he hasn’t incessantly stared at him, head to toe, committing every movement to memory. The book was his only distraction but even then, he’d sneak a glance in between reading.
Levi thought they were supposed to keep an eye on Zeke, not the other way around. And it felt even more humiliating when one of the scouts had to come up to him and say, 'The beast titan is staring an awful amount at you captain. He’s definitely plotting something, I really feel like we’re underestimating him.'
He tries to shake the memory away, not in the mood to remember how mortified he felt in that moment despite knowing how unaware the scouts are of the nuance of this whole situation.
Without a doubt, Zeke definitely has something up his sleeve. But as of right now, the only thing he’s plotting is a way to get into Levi’s pants.
He hates it, but he’d rather take a nuisance than an actual threat.
Those same words ring in his ears later on, a comforting mantra that tries to steady him when he has no choice but to clean himself after putting it off for so long, the week’s worth of filth building up to the point of being completely disgusted with himself. But when he gets around to it, standing next to the water barrel with his bar of soap in hand, Zeke never looks up from his book. Respect is not what he would call it, nor decency, Levi knows he’s toying with him. He's smart enough to not bring it up though, savoring the privacy when he knows he won't get it again after he's done.
Dinner time rolls around again and everyone gathers to the fire to chit-chat and eat. It’s the only time he sees everyone in high spirits, and Levi doesn’t blame them, the atmosphere and semi-decent food are a small wick of light in such a bleak, stagnant time.
Though the faces he’s seeing right now look too wary for his liking.
“Uh, captain…” Varis speaks up.
He waits for him to continue, but it’s clear he wants to wait for his acknowledgement first.
“What is it?” he asks, taking a sip of his tea.
“We’ve been trying to keep it in but...it’s been a really long week and...”
Levi sighs, wondering if he has horns on his head for them to be still acting this nervous around him.
“Just spit it out already.”
They all look at one another before two of them get up and walk over to the supplies, bringing back a large wooden crate. They hesitantly open it in front of him and when he sees the rows of black tinted glass bottles, he can’t help make a face.
“Wine? Why do you need wine while you’re on duty?”
The half-assed excuses start pouring out as they frantically attempt to convince him that drinking on the job is perfectly reasonable.
“Well, this is rare Marleyan wine that only military police have gotten to drink!”
“Y-Yeah, the survey corps newbies worked really hard to get this for us. We can’t just let it sit here and waste away.”
“And we deserve a little bit of fun...”
“We have tea,” he says, making sure to take another sip to add emphasis.
They all stare at him with wide, pleading eyes.
“But, captain...”
She trails off, none of them looking like they have any sound arguments anymore but the desperation in their eyes is difficult to ignore.
He weighs out the options, shocked at himself for actually considering it. The thought of all his subordinates inebriated with alcohol in the presence of a dangerous enemy doesn’t sit well with him, a million disastrous scenarios piling up like shit from livestock on a farm.
His anxiety earnestly tells him to deny them, but he’s already made up his mind before his nerves can have a say.
Levi sighs, sounding like a defeated parent. “Fine, take it.”
His approval elicits a slew of cheering and thanking. The anxiety deep in his gut doesn’t ease, perhaps worsens now at the realization that he might have to take down the beast titan all while protecting everyone else. But after a week of endless ennui, the bit of joy he receives from their sudden liveliness is worthwhile.
The rest of dinner is filled with chatter and smiles until the wine eventually settles in everyone’s system, their energy dying down to droopy eyelids and slurred words.
Levi finishes his food and tea, sober just as much as the bastard across from him.
With his subordinates no longer a comforting distraction, their eyes meet, a sudden idea spurring in the moment.
It doesn’t take much longer before the alcohol’s completely saturated their bloodstream, everyone eventually parting ways and going into their tents, save for two scouts staying for their night shift—except, Levi has other plans for them.
“Both of you can go to sleep, I’m taking the night shift.”
They turn their heads, looking at their captain with bewilderment. “What? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he says sternly, not giving them any doubt to ask a second time.
Whether it’s the alcohol or trust in their captain, they don’t protest against his orders. They give each other a questioning glance but nothing more before waddling their way back to their tents for a good night’s sleep.
With all of them gone, he realizes he intentionally set up his worst nightmare—isolated time together with Zeke.
Whatever conversation they’re about to have, Levi knows he’s not prepared. Ideally, he hopes for one that’s generally mature and understanding, but with the topic he’s addressing, he doubts the conversation can be anywhere near practical. He’s not even sure what he hopes the outcome to be, but it definitely won’t be in his favor.
He gets up to put his plate in a designated crate they use for dirty dishes, and as he walks over to the coffee, he’s suddenly hyper aware of Zeke’s attentive gaze, watching him move from one side of the fire to the next, his head propped up on his palm. He scowls at himself, not liking how stiff and awkward his body feels. It’s such a strange, involuntary sensation, too intrinsic for him to have any control over and it infuriates him to the core.
He takes the canteen filled with water in his hand, but before he manages to do anything, the devil speaks up.
“Can I have some coffee, too?” he asks, his arm stretched out with his own empty cup. “Please?”
The urge to chuck the metal container at his head is alarmingly high.
Zeke has his blood pressure working overtime, constantly. Yet he still obliges.
To keep the peace, he tells himself. It’s about being civil. Any deviation from that and he knows it’ll spiral into something nasty.
He snatches his cup and prepares the coffee; dumping two large scoops of the dark grounds into the kettle and then pouring the water before placing it above the fire.
It begins to simmer and before it rises too much, he takes it off and pours it into each of their cups.
Levi thinks about handing it to him, but the gesture feels too gentle and amiable for his liking, and launching it at him isn’t really practical either, so he graciously leaves it on one of the nearby crates and walks back to his seat. The expression on Zeke’s face is amusing, at least.
He gets up and thanks him as he picks up the cup and goes back to sit down.
Levi ignores him. The hot cup warms his hands nicely against the rapidly cooling air, and the scent of the coffee already energizes him for the long night ahead of him, briefly remembering how much he hated the bitter taste of the dark liquid when he first tasted it. Not saying that he’s grown fond of it particularly, but he likes the smell of it more than the taste—and he appreciates the convenience of it, especially right now.
He takes a sip, letting the bitter taste settle on his tongue before starting their little interrogation.
“You wanna tell me why you can’t mind your damn business?” he says outright.
Zeke doesn’t look up from his coffee but still raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Despite the energizing quality the coffee offers him, he suddenly feels the weight of this conversation physically dragging him down, tiring him faster than he can recover.
“Play dumb again and see what happens,” he threatens.
“Ohhh, that’s what you mean,” he immediately says in the most irritating pseudo-surprised voice. He takes a drink of his coffee and swirls it around in the cup, deliberately letting the silence drag out. “Does my staring bother you?”
Levi’s blood boils and every response is somehow more aggravating than the last. He keeps his face impartial, refusing to give him any more of a reaction than he already has.
“I wouldn’t be bringing it up if it didn’t bother me you bearded shit.”
Zeke continues with his gentle coffee swirling and taking another swing in between, facetiously giving it more attention than the man he’s been staring at so vehemently all week.
“Why does it bother you?”
“Why does it bother me?” he snaps, reaching his limit incredibly fast. “The same reason a young girl would be bothered by a creepy old man staring at her.”
Zeke looks up, appearing genuinely upset.
“Creepy old man?” he reiterates. “I had the impression that you were older than me. Was I wrong then? As the younger one here, I was simply admiring you.”
If looks could kill, Zeke would be six feet under the ground right now, his desecrated remains chopped up into pieces and thrown in the deep pit with complete mirth.
Levi has never been the one to demand respect; not now, not ever—but Zeke acting so simpleminded and ignorant of his own actions has him feeling like nothing more than a fool, unworthy of even the slightest amount of decency. It’s belittling, and he wishes he’d spare them both the time and energy and cut all this unnecessary crap.
But knowing he won’t, he does the honors himself.
“Staring between my legs is considered admiring?” he scoffs. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
Despite his anticipation for some kind of reaction, Zeke gives him none, not even so much as a glance or a flinch and the thought of violent murder crosses his mind more times than he can count, until he finally speaks.
“You'd take any opportunity to make me look stupid though.”
Levi barely takes in his words, taking a mental note of how hasty he’s become around Zeke.
“The hell are you getting at?”
“What I’m getting at is,” he echos, his gaze never leaving his. “Would you let me fuck you if it meant making me look stupid?”
The hand bringing up the coffee to his lips suddenly stills. Saying he’s entirely surprised would be a lie but he’s still amazed at his fortitude; though given their relationship, he should be calling him a suicidal maniac for trying to pull this kind of stunt.
“You already do that well on your own.”
“Hardly,” he shrugs. “I could do worse.”
Levi grimaces, embarrassed for him. “You’re willing to sacrifice your dignity, just to get your dick wet?”
“If it means getting my dick wet inside you,” he says, voice low and heavy. “Then by all means.”
The shock of pleasure that shoots down right between his legs is so sharp, so involuntary, it throws him off enough to bring out an uneasiness in his chest that he can’t seem to soothe. His animosity toward the man in front of him is still very much there, a safe anchor that grounds him enough to keep his face passive, but underneath his composed appearance he’s more than startled.
“You could’ve stuck your disgusting dick in anyone else,” he brings up, trying to divert this conversation into something more steady, something he can handle. “Yet you chose to bother me.”
“Why wouldn’t I choose you? I’d be an idiot if I didn’t.”
“I disagree, you’re more of an idiot for bothering me. You have a death wish or something?”
“I can’t resist, you’re my type,” he answers, drinking the last of his coffee before moving his hand down to place it on the ground, but then stopping midway, placing the cup on the small space behind him on the crate instead, Levi not letting it go unnoticed.
“That so?” he asks, eyes flickering back to his face. “Your type is someone that wants to skin you alive?”
“I guess so. I like the ones with dark hair and a pretty face. They’re small and petite but really know how to pack a punch.”
That same shock of pleasure resurfaces but more mild and controlled, though disconcerting nonetheless—his words shouldn’t be persuading his libido so effortlessly. He’s becoming less anxious and more aggravated, not knowing who these feelings should be directed toward, Zeke for instigating or himself for being so yielding.
“The monkey’s a masochist too,” he adds.
Zeke actually grins, holding back a light chuckle. “I’m a lot of other things too, you’d be surprised. What about you though, what’s your type?”
“The complete opposite of whatever the hell you are.”
Zeke frowns. “That seems like a very defensive answer.”
“What could you possibly gain from knowing what type of person I like? Do you want me to say you’re my type so it can stroke your ego?”
“Again, you’re being very defensive.”
“And you’re being very delusional,” he retorts. “Got anything else to add?”
Zeke holds his ground, keeping eye level with him until he sighs in resignation.
“Not really. If I’m actually being delusional then we’ll leave it at that.”
And true to his words, he drops it, just like that.
With their conversation coming to an end, Levi wonders what he even accomplished with this. Convincing him to put an end to his incessant staring wasn’t really his goal, but neither was cultivating a sudden interest that his body so shamelessly revealed its curious enthusiasm to. Sparking up this conversation was meaningless, and quite honestly, did more harm than good.
He breathes out a sigh of his own, unwilling to bring his hand up and rub at his face in frustration in the small chance Zeke tries to taunt him.
Perhaps being out in the wilderness and reliving each day the same as the last is starting to affect him in more ways than one. Blaming his surroundings shouldn’t even be a resort but it’s the only way he can assure himself that whatever desire he felt at the pit of his stomach a few moments prior, twice, is just some outlandish tedium driving him insane.
But he can barely convince himself of that.
He watches as Zeke takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, a yawn following right after and making Levi wonder how he can feel tired after drinking an entire cup of coffee, his own heart beating rather quick with only half his coffee gone. His intrusiveness only grows as Zeke gets up, stretching out the muscles in his arms and legs before picking up his coffee cup and walking over to the crate, placing it along with the other dirty dishes.
He acknowledges he’s not completely blind, but with how bulky those glasses are, he would at least think he is.
“So you can see without your glasses,” he says, adopting an accusatory tone as he watches him sit back down.
“Hm? Oh, yeah. My vision is perfect, it's just...they’re not mine,” he answers, pausing before his next words like he’s doubting to even tell them. “They belonged to someone else.”
He grips the cup tighter, not liking how melancholic his voice just sounded. He’d rather take an obnoxious flirty monkey than a sentimental serious one. And as much as he wants to abate his curiosity, he doesn't ask anymore questions.
Yeah, he thinks, this conversation was definitely a mistake.
Zeke sits there and cleans his glasses with the hem of his shirt, paying no mind to Levi’s obvious staring, his own gaze distant and inattentive.
That same sensation he felt between his legs crawls up to his chest now and festers into a different form—and it’s somehow worse.
Zeke finishes cleaning them and puts them back on, moving on to quietly reading his book.
While he reads, Levi lets his eyes linger for the duration of his leisure coffee drinking until he finishes as well and gets up to put the empty cup away. He makes his way toward a nearby tree to lean against, the cold breeze having him eager to huddle back around the fire but the freedom his rusty, dormant limbs get to have is more gratifying than the discomfort.
From here, he keeps watch for another hour or so. Dozens of pages flip before Zeke eventually gets tired of reading and decides to go into his tent and retire for the night.
With him gone, Levi goes back over to sit next to the fire and warm up, the chill of the forest air seeping into his bones.
As his night shift begins, staying awake is fairly easy. The soothing noise of leaves rustling and of wood burning and cracking helps the time pass, his mind wandering every now and then but remaining attentive nonetheless. It even wanders to Zeke a few times and not in the way he’d like it to.
It’s a different story if he was still here, but his mind filled with thoughts of him when he’s not even physically present is uncalled for and quite frankly, exhausting. But if he doesn’t sort it out now in all this peace and quiet, he doesn’t know when he ever will.
He gets on his feet and decides to make some tea first.
While the water heats over the fire, his first thoughts come into light.
Pushing it away or repressing it isn’t an option. As shocking as it first felt, enough time has gone by to calm him down, to preserve a clear mind and think rationally. The feelings he had in response to whatever half-assed flirting Zeke was trying to pull was there for a reason, whether he’s willing to admit it or not.
He frowns, wondering how he got himself into this mess. It’s only been a week, a measly seven days here. He can tell himself it’s not really what he wants, that it’s his body’s selfish and shameless desire that’s been craving something, or someone, after so long. But an excuse like that would only waste his energy, repeatedly denying his feelings and convincing himself that he lacks an appetite when he’s undoubtedly deprived.
He curses under his breath, his hand coming up to rub at his eyes.
Such a trivial and senseless thing this all is, yet he managed to get caught up in it enough to forget why they’re even here in the first place.
The water boils for a few minutes before he gets up to take it off the fire, sitting himself back down to strain the leaves out. He waits for it to cool a bit before taking a sip, thinking how Zeke has occupied his mind enough for one night.
The next few hours go by slowly but relatively well and blond-free. Though the struggle to keep idle presents itself about halfway through and the last few hours after that drag out even worse. It feels endless, but as the sun finally rises, small rays of light seep in through the trees and illuminate the camp. He pours water on the fire to put it out and walks over to one of the tents.
He tells them to wake their asses up and they miserably roll over before sitting up. Levi walks to his own tent, leaving them the responsibility to wake up the rest. He strips the gas tanks and blades off of him before going inside and slipping under the blanket, the soft pillow under his head forcing his eyelids shut and lulling him to sleep.
After a few hours, he wakes up groggy and disgusted, feeling sweat gathered on his back. He throws the blanket off of him and rolls over in annoyance. It can’t be past noon, but going back to sleep isn’t an option. Once he wakes up, there’s no way he can fall back asleep.
He rubs his eyes until they’re fully open and he sits up, an exhausted breath leaving his lips. He comes out of his tent and eyes the gear on the ground, deciding to brush his teeth first before putting all that extra weight on.
When he begins strapping it on though, one of the scouts nearby walks over looking worried, guilty even.
“Captain? Why are you awake?”
“How long was I asleep?”
“Only a few hours,” he says. “It’s barely noon.”
“It’s fine,” he says, trying to make his tone sound as amiable as possible. “That’s plenty of sleep.”
Words alone aren’t able to convince the guilt ridden stares that he’s not pissed off at any of them for drinking last night. He was the one who allowed them to drink and he’s the one who ordered the rest to skip their shift for the night. But he represses his yawn and tries to look less worn out, a subtle way to ease their worries.
However, it’s easier said than done. Especially when Zeke comes out of his tent a few minutes later and walks over to him in confusion. Levi can already feel another set of eyebags starting to form.
“Huh? How are you out here before me? Did you even sleep?”
Any sexual attraction he had toward Zeke last night got flung out a window and curb stomped to literal dust. His voice sounds grating to his ears and he’s too tired to be dealing with him right now. A few hours away from each other feels like seconds, as if they were never apart to begin with.
“I got plenty of sleep, beardy. Mind your business.”
“Good morning to you too,” he says, looking over at the supplies. “Tea or coffee?”
He takes a moment to answer. “Coffee.”
And like the good prisoner that he is, he goes over to make him coffee. Levi sits down, and as he watches him make it, his hyper-cautious mind conjures a scenario, not too fond of Zeke's sudden friendly gesture. He sighs, so utterly exhausted of himself.
Zeke finishes up and pours it into both their cups, not just Levi's, and brings it over to him.
"Here you go."
Levi takes it, inspecting the surface and then taking a whiff. "You didn't poison it, did you?" he asks, somewhat jokingly.
He brushes his anxiety away after voicing his thoughts out loud, realizing how silly that question was. If Zeke somehow does manage to poison his coffee right in front of his face, then he truly believes he deserves it. Zeke takes him seriously though and downs half of his boiling hot coffee.
"No, I don't think so."
Levi stares at him, a bit taken back at his way of easing his anxiety. He goes to sit in his seat, and just when enough time passes and Levi thinks its over and done with, Zeke speaks up.
"How's the coffee?"
"...Fine."
“Can you make it for us next time?”
He struggles to swallow down his coffee, his anger not patient enough to wait to curse him out.
“Do I look like your fuckin’ servant?”
“No, of course not,” he defends himself. “I just thought we could take turns making coffee for each other.”
“Now why the fuck would I do that?”
“You’ve never heard of the saying ‘it tastes better when someone else makes it’? ”
And without hesitation, he says, “Wouldn’t taste better if I shit in it.”
He doesn’t understand why or how, but Zeke actually laughs, as if he didn’t just threaten to shit in his coffee.
“Laugh all you want, I’m still not making it for you,” he says. “Just because I did it once, doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it again.”
“I didn’t laugh to win you over.”
“Really? My bad. I didn’t know I was a comedic genius.”
Even with his voice dripping in sarcasm, Zeke still cracks a smile.
Appreciation for his sardonic tongue is rare, reciprocation toward it even more so, yet his mood instantly plummets once he’s reminded of who’s on the other end of it. The thought is brief, nothing too alarming, but he wonders about the what ifs; what if their current circumstances didn’t force them on opposing sides? What if they weren’t victims to this senseless war? What if he didn’t kill so many of the people he cared for, that he lived with and ate with, that he spent so much time developing memories and attachments to—would they have been good friends?
All these thoughts are too trivial and absurd to be taken seriously. They’re nothing more than speculations, innocent reveries, so he doesn’t mind letting them wander.
Except his stomach grumbles, a little too loud for his liking, and he sees Zeke hesitate before confidently giving himself another order.
“I’ll make us breakfast.”
Levi’s face alters into an expression somewhere between baffled and annoyed. He doesn’t know how this idiot went from asking someone else to do the labor for him to acting like the servant himself, but he has no complaints. If anything, it’s the only redeemable offer he can give and he watches intently as he fixes them up a simple half-assed meal with the limited rations they have.
Zeke finishes and hands over his plate; scrambled eggs, a sliced tomato with some greens on the side, and bread. Levi takes them without a word.
For the second time this morning, they sit in silence while they eat, until Zeke decides to break it.
“How does it taste?”
He stabs at his scrambled eggs with his fork and takes a bite. “The finest meal coming from the finest hotel.”
“Jokes aside...” Zeke presses.
He looks up, the questioning look on his face a silent way of asking if he’s being serious or not. And everything in his expression tells him he is, truly wanting his opinion on shitty, stale survey corps rations. He doesn’t even think Niccolo asked him for his opinion in all the years he’s been here.
“You’re out of your mind,” he mumbles to himself before answering him with a shrug. “Yeah, it’s good I guess.”
“See, told you it tastes better when someone else makes it for you.”
Zeke is, and always has been, annoying. His entire existence has been a nightmare to deal with ever since they’ve came here. But today, he’s annoying.
“Are you trying to warm up to me so I don’t kill you?”
“Not quite,” he answers. “I’m not naive enough to think a simple breakfast can relieve me of all my wrongdoings. I just wanted to be nice.”
“If you wanted to be nice you would’ve made coffee and breakfast for everyone else.”
Zeke sighs but his face shows amusement. “You’re very difficult. No matter what answer I give you, you’ll never be satisfied.”
“You’re right. Might as well give me the real reason.”
Zeke hesitates again, and Levi glares, preparing himself for whatever bullshit’s about to come out of his mouth.
“I’m practicing for when I’m your husband.”
The eggs get another stab, childishly pretending it was Zeke’s flesh instead.
“I’d sooner marry an actual monkey than marry you.”
“I doubt it, monkeys can be very annoying sometimes.”
“And you’re annoying all the time.”
“Well-’
“If you want any type of chance against the monkeys, I suggest you shut up and let me eat my breakfast in peace,” he says, rather harshly.
“Got it, captain.”
Zeke quickly shuts up and keeps quiet for the remainder of the meal, Levi relieved. He occupies himself with his food, still very much bewildered and angry at whatever exchange they just had.
The next few hours are spent being idle as usual, mostly at a fair distance from each other—Levi specifically keeping that distance. And the day drags on, time slowly blending together until every hour spent in the bounds of the forest becomes indistinguishable.
The second week is no better.
The only new disparity from last week is Zeke’s sudden fixation to get each other to make food for one another.
Every morning this entire week, they leave their designated tent and make their way towards the middle of the camp. A tense silence follows before Zeke opens his mouth and Levi immediately dismisses him with either a threat to kill him, shit in his coffee again, or poison the food—none of which seem to bother Zeke as he brushes him off and makes them their breakfast instead.
He doesn’t know if Zeke is idiotic enough to think Levi will come around one of these days and actually change his mind about being the one to make them breakfast, but something tells him it’s not that at all. Maybe it’s the lack of fight behind every dismissal he receives but he acts too content with how one-sided this all is.
But again, he doesn’t complain nor bring it up. If he wants to act like his servant then who is he to stop him?
Going into the third week, nothing else has changed since they’ve gotten here except for everyone’s nerves being slightly more frayed.
And Zeke’s abrupt disinterest in him.
When he gets out of his tent in the morning, he sees all the empty crates around the charred pile of wood, none of them seating an annoying blond man. His face falls, looking around to see if he’s behind a tree taking a piss or something but to his dismay, he’s not.
Zeke not being in his usual spot isn’t the strangest thing in the world. The banal routine they’ve all been following for the past two weeks is almost insufferable at this point, so he could’ve just rolled over and went back to sleep to pass more of the day. But with how enthusiastic he's been greeting him with his usual 'good morning', and how eager he's been to make him breakfast and ask if it's to his liking, he would think Zeke could do this forever.
The air lacks its usual buoyancy and Levi walks over to one of the scouts, wanting to make sure.
“Where is he?”
“In his tent, captain.”
“Still sleeping?”
“No, he woke up an hour ago and had his breakfast before going back inside.”
Levi frowns and the confusion on his face unintentionally makes the scout nervous.
“This isn’t what he would normally do. Do you think he’s plotting something? Should we tell him to get out?”
“No, leave him,” he answers, sounding disinterested. “Don’t worry about it too much, he’ll come out eventually.”
The scout gives the tent an anxious glance but nods at his captain in hopes that he’s right.
He’s confident in his own answer but about an hour later, he’s sitting on the crate and cleaning his blade with his handkerchief out of boredom when his apprehension starts to form. His eyes are glued to his tent now, searching for any signs of movement or noise but there’s none. He has half a mind to walk over there and rip him out from his tent, wondering just what this bastard thinks he’s doing.
Zeke seems to hear his internal monologue all the way from his tent because a moment later, he finally emerges with the book in his hand, yawning.
“Good morning,” he says, taking his usual spot.
As always, Levi doesn’t answer. He greets him with a glare instead that’s half hesitant, half irate.
“What? No coffee and breakfast for me?”
Zeke looks at him, slightly baffled. “You still haven’t eaten?”
He scrutinizes his reaction, trying to form his own response through how sincere he appears. He can’t truly tell, but he plays along, taking a more laid-back route.
“Why would I lift a finger if I have an obedient servant right in front of me?”
“Husband,” he corrects him.
“After you left me to starve this morning?”
“I didn’t think you enjoyed our little morning routine. If you missed me, you could’ve just said so,” he teases, but then quickly puts his hands up at the sour sight of Levi’s face. “I’m kidding. No need to kill me.”
His retraction does little to calm him. “Make better jokes and I won’t have to.”
“I’ll have to work on that, I suppose."
He doesn’t have to wait long for Zeke to hand him the coffee and food. He makes a cup for himself too and sits down, quietly sipping it until his annoying tendencies get to him.
“You know, if you really enjoy this that much I can also do this for lunch and dinner as well.”
Levi takes a bite of the eggs, mulling over his offer. It sounds innocent, and it relatively is, but the thought of having even less things to do here sounds like torture.
“No. I already feel mindlessly bored. I’d lose my mind if I just sat here and did nothing,” he declines. But after a minute or so, he says, “You can make the coffee.”
He would never admit it, but the taste of the coffee when he makes it himself doesn't even come close to the way Zeke makes it. He’s not sure if it's because he puts too much water or maybe boils it for too long, but it falls flat compared to Zeke’s. Asking him for advice is out of the question though, so he’s actually content with him making it instead.
“Of course, captain.”
Neither of them pursue the conversation after; Zeke goes back to his book and Levi finishes his breakfast, afterwards deciding to walk around and pass what little time they have left of the morning. The small talk he picks up from a few scouts here and there manages to push the minutes forward but even then, they have little to say when they’ve all been cooped up together for so long.
By the middle of the week, he can feel his irritation on the palm of his hands. It feels like he’s going insane.
Levi glares at nothing in particular, his mind drifting.
He eventually shifts his attention to Zeke, watching him read that damn book again. He’s read it dozens of times over, too many to even count. Each flip of a page makes him wonder what’s actually written in all those black lines of ink.
Wanting to feel at least something, he orders him to make him coffee, and he gets up without any question.
Like always, Zeke pours some for himself too, making Levi wonder if he’s ever actually in the mood to drink it or he’s only drinking it because Levi is. He doesn't really care.
They drink their coffee and by the time they finish, Levi gets antsy again, not having anything to do. He almost wants Zeke to bother him. There hasn't been any of his obnoxious flirting in a while. Nor has he bothered him about seeing his brother for an even longer while. He hasn't even gone on one of his little talking sprees where he pulls Levi into a conversation against his will and doesn't leave him alone until he takes out his blade as a threat.
Levi wants that now. He wants to be pushed over the edge and spurred into killing him.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. The repercussions for disobeying orders truly can’t be worse than what he’s going through right now.
He’s so lost in his own thoughts, he almost doesn't notice Zeke getting up. Levi watches him leisurely walk across the camp and over to the dwindling supplies on the wagons, wondering what the hell he’s doing.
He climbs on top and drags the last barrel of water to the edge before climbing back down, hoisting it down to the ground and dragging it to the side of the wagon.
There's not a sound of protest that comes from any of the scouts at first, but the silence quickly falls apart when Zeke grabs the washbowl and a fresh bar of soap.
One of the scouts runs over to say something and Levi stays put, minding his business until he’s forced to intervene when he hears the scout’s voice rising into a yell.
He walks over, not nearly as angry as the scout.
“What’s the problem?”
“Captain, we barely have enough water to last us another week and he wants to use it to bathe.”
Zeke scoffs, rolling his eyes. “So you can use the water to bathe yourselves and I can’t? It’s been almost three weeks since we’ve been here.”
“Damn right you can’t–”
“Let him use it.”
They both turn their heads to Levi, stunned at his approval.
“I–what?”
“You guys are gonna have to go back and get more supplies anyway, we barely have food,” he explains, the scout’s face thawing to something more calmer. “Tell everyone to prepare for tomorrow’s departure.”
The scout bites his tongue, refusing to yield out of hatred but knowing his captain’s right. Although their food supply is low, only about a week’s worth of meals left if they ration it out sparingly, their water supply is more dire. They’re only down to one barrel that can last them a few days at most.
“Fine,” he says, throwing a nasty glare at Zeke before walking away.
Levi turns to him. “Don’t use up all the water. They’re leaving tomorrow morning but we still need some left while they’re gone.”
“Got it, captain.”
Zeke begins to undress, hanging his coat off the side of the wagon as Levi hesitates to move; his feet planted to the ground, eyebrows pinched together, his heart beating just a bit more faster against his chest. And worst of all, it’s all him. Every reaction his own yet none of it feels consensual, like his mind and body are two separate entities.
Zeke moves on to unbutton his shirt and Levi’s decision isn’t fast enough to prevent his curiosity.
“Do you mind?
“No,” he says without thinking.
He gives himself only a few seconds to mull over his next response, the question of whether or not this route is truly the one he wants to take, making something inside him shift almost instantaneously.
It is the route he wants to take, and denying his own desires out of spite only proves he can’t choose what he wants without Zeke swaying his decision—and he’ll be damned if he gave a fuck about what Zeke thinks.
He crosses his arms and leans against the wagon, having no intention of moving from his spot.
“We’ve been stuck in this shitty forest because of you. The least you can do is give me some entertainment.”
Zeke raises his eyebrows, too stunned for words. He opens his mouth to say something, but then shakes his head and decides against it, like saying it will make everything fall apart before it could’ve ever came together.
“I’ll make sure to put on an extra good show for you then.”
He takes the lid off the barrel and puts it in the wagon along with his glasses before going back to unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers slowly make their way down, a bit of bare skin peaking out with each one coming undone until he’s at the very bottom, the last one to slide out the biggest tease.
Zeke leads him on, making him believe he’ll get to see more than he already has as he scoops the water with the washbowl and pours it over his head. Levi wants to complain, and almost does, but he realizes soon enough that the wet, see-through fabric sticking to his skin isn’t actually so bad. It leaves little to Levi’s imagination and the more he pours, the more the soaked fabric outlines each curve of his body.
But as the seconds go by, his patience runs thinner.
Meanwhile, Zeke continues his bathing session; running his hand through his wet hair, his nails digging into his scalp and taking out the weeks of built-up oil that Levi wonders how he ever tolerated for so long. A few days is all it takes for him to start feeling repulsed in his own body, let alone a few weeks.
His thoughts of disgust distract him, veering off towards past memories of his upbringing back in the underground and unaware of Zeke taking off his shirt in front of him. It’s not until he starts rubbing the bar of soap into his skin that he finally notices.
The first thing he takes in is the amount of hair covering his chest and running down his torso, a trail of blond going all the way down, past his navel and below the waist of his pants—something Levi didn’t know he had a particular affinity toward until now.
He pulls his eyes back up toward his chest.
Streaks of bubbles start to form as he rubs in circles, moving from one peck to the other. His hand slides up and grazes over his collarbone, outlining the dips before rolling his head back to expose more of his neck. He closes his eyes, thoroughly enjoying himself as he scrubs himself clean.
Levi watches him with interest, and although he appreciates the finer details, he can’t help seek out something more, something bigger, and it doesn’t seem like Zeke has any intention of moving further down anytime soon.
He starts to get awfully greedy.
“Not gonna take off your pants?” he prods, watching Zeke open one of his eyes, peaking at him with bemusement. “What, are you too shy?”
His confusion turns into something more smug and he hates that he knows exactly what Zeke is thinking.
“You’re a lot more eager than I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice sounding less conceited than the look on his face, surprisingly. “Would you like to take them off for me then?”
“I’m not your servant,” he replies immediately, feeling like he’s repeated the phrase one too many times.
“Yeah, I thought so.”
That smart-ass attitude leaves his blood boiling and he’s about to ask who the hell he thinks he’s talking to like that, but just as his anger surfaces, it submerges right back down, leaving quicker than it came.
He places the soap on the lid and Levi follows his hands; taking note of their size and how clearly his veins protrude through his skin, fixated on how his fingers work at his belt and zipper and thinking how nice it must feel to have them inside him, down to his knuckles, buried all the way in. His thoughts only spiral as he takes off his shoes and slips his thumbs in the hem of both his pants and underwear, taking them off in one go.
He doesn’t have anything but his socks on, truly leaving nothing to the imagination now. And though his eyes are directly on Zeke, he can feel almost every scout watching him as well.
That same shock of pleasure from before pools between his legs and without shame, his gaze immediately falls to his dick. He picks up the soap and plays oblivious, letting Levi enjoy the entertainment, just like he asked for. And Levi gladly indulges himself in it.
He takes in the sight of his naked body and engraves every curve and muscle to memory; observing the way his arms and back flex, tracing his toned abdomen, admiring the way his dick sits between his thighs.
His eyelids start to feel heavy.
It’s been so long since he’s had the privilege to witness something like this, to spoil his libido and revel in that hunger instead of throwing it to the side on behalf of whatever missions or duties he’d been given. The feeling is so violently urgent it takes apart any doubts of wanting to have sex with him—but this is where he consciously draws the line.
Despite his involuntary reactions, he knows he can control whether or not to act upon it. The decision is entirely up to him. And it’s not that he’s reverted back to his initial stance of wanting to prove a point, or that he suddenly finds him too unattractive. It’s not even his deep-seated hatred for him either, he’s capable of putting that aside and viewing him solely as a body he can play with.
What he can’t set aside is his worry for the other scouts.
He has just as much faith in them as he has for himself. They’re strong and competent, despite their tendency to fool around. But up against the beast titan, there’s no telling what could happen, especially if they were forced to fend for themselves while Levi idiotically got killed mid-sex.
His decision needs some time but he doesn’t really have much of it. Any last chances he has ends with the trip the scouts are going on tomorrow morning. He has until then to figure out what his answer is before they come back.
But for now, he watches the rest of Zeke’s bathing session, filtering out any convoluted thoughts about his decision and appreciating the view.
He lets a modest amount of scenarios run rampant in his head as he follows his movement, watching him clean the rest of his body. He scrubs at his torso, going down lower and lower, and it’s not until he finally takes himself in his hand that he realizes just how frightening lust can be.
His eyelids feel heavy, a bit sheepish at his own excitement at first, only to brush off the guilt just as quickly as it came when Zeke cleans himself through long and slow strokes, his hands proudly mimicking what he knows will arouse him.
If he wasn’t the one to initiate all this in the first place, demanded even, he would’ve scoffed. Admittedly, they’re more alike than different but he’d sooner let a mindless titan eat him than ever say that out loud.
His little performance goes on only for a little while longer, Levi wondering at some point how he managed to remain soft after all that and almost making a joke about how he probably can’t get it up, but deciding to spare him.
“Well? Did I satisfy my captain’s boredom?” he asks, ruffling his wet hair.
He did, briefly, but he’s not in a playful enough mood to admit that.
He pushes himself off the wagon and walks away, leaving Zeke behind to come up with an answer of his own while he settles back to his position under the tree.
Their fun has died down and the rest of the day is spent with him doing nothing but being cooped up in his own mind, still contemplating every route and outcome.
His indecisiveness eventually exhausts him though and he doesn’t know whether it’s the actual exhaustion or the sight of the scouts preparing for tomorrow’s journey back to the walls, but in that moment, he makes his final decision, and walks over to Varis.
“Take a few more scouts with you.”
Varis blinks, glancing at the horse next to him and making Levi raise an eyebrow, wondering if he was looking over to it for answers.
“What?” his voice coming in as a strained whisper, his eyes searching for any hint of sarcasm or humor. He finds none. “Captain, I don’t mean to displace my trust in you, by any means. But that’s a very rash decision on your part...sir.”
He straightens up at the last part, like his defiance against his captain suddenly dawned on him. Levi sighs, putting up a front.
“We’ve been here for weeks. You know just as much as anyone else here how negatively it’s affected us,” he says, his words sincerely coming from his heart but still unable to shake off the disgusting feeling that he’s doing this with an ulterior motive. “If it means getting away from here for a while to get everyone back into shape, then I’m more than willing to give everyone this opportunity.”
“I understand but..” he starts, uncertain of how to end it. The tension in his body eases and Levi knows he’s got him. “Are you sure this is safe?”
They both look over to Zeke, who’s sitting in his usual spot with his usual book, unaware of the conversation they’re having about him. Levi chooses his next words wisely, not wanting to exaggerate his confidence but not wanting to scare him off either.
“His existence isn’t safe. Regardless of what we do, as long as he’s alive, none of us can feel safe,” he says, looking back over to Varis. “Is it safe? No. Am I sure of what I’m doing? Yes.”
He doesn’t press him any further and he doesn’t look like he needs to. His face develops a more stern expression and he nods firmly. “You’re right.”
“And one more thing,” he adds. “While you’re there, tell them if they don’t make a decision soon, I’m killing him myself.”
“Yes, captain.”
He feels drained, the type of tiredness that seeps into his bones and won't leave no matter how much coffee he drinks. He still tries though. Three cups is what it takes to get him through the rest of the day before the sun goes down, and the last bit of energy he has is used to walk over to the depleting supplies, grabbing a canteen and filling it with a generous amount of oil.
He informs the scouts and crawls into his tent, sleep calling for him, silencing even his stomach that growls in hunger.
The sound of wagons moving and people talking wakes him up.
He knows it’s still too early from how dim his tent is but he gets up anyway, wanting to see them off before they leave. Fresh morning air fills his lungs and maybe it's the thought of what's to come later on, but it feels different somehow, like the world itself knows too.
Varis walks over to him, appearing in higher spirits than he’s ever seen him these past few weeks.
“We’re leaving, captain.”
Levi nods, his face softening at how contagious his happiness is. “Try to be back here by tomorrow night.”
“Yes sir.”
He mounts on his horse, signaling the others to follow. Levi watches them disappear down the path, leaving only him and five other scouts behind. As he looks around at the deserted camp, the slightest bit of guilt eats away at him at his inability to send the rest of them to the walls. He knows that’s not possible, but he still walks over to them, letting them know that they’ll get their chance too—and when they do, it won’t be for another round of supplies but a permanent journey back home.
Out of all things, that’s the only thing he can promise.
And just as he says that, Zeke comes out of his tent, as if he’s willingly giving up his life to make Levi’s promise come true—or to ruin it.
After they have their breakfast and coffee, the morning drifts into noon in the slowest way possible. Unlike before, where a few scouts would use their maneuver gear to climb up to their hammocks high in the treetops, they’ve all settled on laying low to compensate for the lack of members. Levi appreciates their attentiveness but even he can’t help getting slightly annoyed at the sound of their feet constantly pacing around and the irritated sighs that leave their mouths every few minutes.
Of course, he doesn’t say anything. He lets them pace around as he minds his business. He occupies his time cleaning his blades instead, until Zeke unfortunately decides to speak.
“Captain Levi,” he says, drawing out his name.
Levi thinks to ignore him but the boredom has beset his mind enough to give him a response.
“What?”
“I’m bored.”
“Then read.”
“I’ve already read this book four times.”
“Make it five.”
“Don’t you have another one you can give me?”
“No.”
Zeke flips another page and sighs, sounding just as dispirited as everyone else feels.
“I entertained you yesterday. I wouldn’t really call this fair.”
Levi stops cleaning and looks up in annoyance. He had no intention of telling him anything until tonight but he doesn’t think he’ll shut his mouth unless he personally does it for him.
“I’ll entertain you all you want tonight, so stop your whining.”
The shock on his face is oddly gratifying.
He stares at him, waiting for Levi to admit it’s just a joke, but he never does. He clears his throat when he realizes the sincerity of his statement.
“Your idea of entertainment is either what I actually think it is, or you might just kill me.”
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
“I’ll wait all I need to,” he says, diverting his attention back to his book and keeping his annoyance to himself.
Levi spends the rest of the afternoon and evening in a peaceful quiet, void of any disturbances from Zeke as he stays on his best behavior.
By the time the sun sets, everyone is around the fire eating their scraps of dinner with either water or tea. No one tries to initiate any conversation as they sit there in silence and Levi’s first thought is that they’re too upset from this morning.
But as soon as he hears a shaky, nervous voice, he knows what’s going on.
“Um, captain...is it okay if we have some of the wine?” she asks, eyeing the box that’s near them.
Despite her anxiousness, it gives the other scouts a bit of courage to persuade their captain.
“There’s still a few bottles left,” he quickly interjects, wanting to say his piece. “It’s only fair that we drink some while they’re back in the walls.”
Levi pretends to give it some thought. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve denied them immediately. And under any other circumstances, he would’ve also called himself completely and utterly insane.
“Go ahead.”
They all look at him, too baffled to say anything. “Really!?”
“Yeah, I’ll be taking the night shift anyway.”
They gasp in excitement and waste no time popping open the five remaining bottles. They finish the rest of their meals with the wine and about a half an hour later, the bottles are dried clean and everyone’s happily tipsy.
Levi patiently waits, in no rush to do any of the work himself when it’s already been done for him. He was wondering how he’d go about this, not liking the idea of acting forceful and raising any suspicion. But he never needed to. The scouts enthusiastically got drunk and gave him a much easier time than he would’ve thought.
Now, he watches it all play out before him; their speech slurring, their voices fluctuating between loud and quiet depending on what they're gossiping about, their fluttering eyes trying to keep open. It doesn’t take long before the alcohol settles and he can see them visibly get tired.
A few of them don’t bother fighting it and bid the rest of them goodnight. The last two are adamant.
“Captain, are you sure you don’t need us to stay on watch with you?”
“I’m more than capable, thank you,” he answers. “Go get some rest.”
“But there’s so little of us now, isn’t it dangerous for all of us to drop our guard like this?”
The complete irony in that statement makes it very hard not to bring up the amount of alcohol they’ve just drank but he confines himself, wanting to calm their nerves, not agitate them.
“You’re worrying too much,” he soothes. “I’ve taken the beast titan down before and I can easily do it again. If anything happens, I’m here.”
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re here with us. Nothing can go wrong,” he says, a smile slowly forming on his face as he throws his arm over the other scout.
“You both need to rest,” he says, hoping this is the last time he’ll have to repeat himself. “Go to your tent and get some sleep.”
This time, there’s no protest. Levi watches the two of them get up and make their way toward their respective tent, struggling to walk properly. When they both make it inside, Levi turns to a rather wary Zeke, the silence of the night enveloping the air around them.
Neither of them say anything until some time passes, just to make sure everyone is fully asleep.
“The only few subordinates you have are passed out drunk while the rest are back in the walls getting supplies,” he observes, clearly aware of the isolation he’s created. “So, you’re going against orders and killing me?”
Levi shrugs. “I can kill you, if you want.”
“A generous offer, but I’ll have to decline for the time being. What else do you have for me?”
He takes the canteen from behind his crate and gets up, tossing it as he walks over to him. Zeke catches it with ease and slowly twists it open, unsure of whether to keep his eyes on the metal in his hands or Levi’s face in case it’s some kind of poisonous gas he’s letting out, or whatever his imaginative mind has made up.
He looks inside, takes a cautious whiff, swirls it around in the canteen, and Levi can’t help but roll his eyes.
“It’s oil, you fuckin’ idiot.”
Zeke looks stunned for the second time today and it’s just as satiating as the first. “You’re letting me fuck you?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I’m surprised. Didn’t think you’d actually give me a chance. I guess I really doubted how much you want me inside of you.”
“Another word and I’ll rip out your tongue,” he threatens, not fond of Zeke’s vocal boasting. “And don't think you can get what you want so easily.”
He closes the canteen back up and sets it down next to him. “Ah, right. I’ll have to sacrifice my dignity first, correct?”
“Correct,” he repeats. “Take off your glasses.”
Although he appears confused, he’s not hesitant in following his order, taking them off and placing them behind him.
“What if I wanted to beat the shit out of you?” he asks, staring out into the darkness of the woods and letting the silence linger before setting his sight back to Zeke. “Would you let me?”
Zeke answers without missing a beat. “Gladly.”
And so does Levi.
The hard leather of his boot collides with the side of his face, the impact of the kick knocking him down to the ground with a loud thud. The sound, the sensation—it’s all too familiar. Years have passed since the trial, and only a month since they were on the airship, yet he still remembers every harrowing, calculated blow he dealt him. Now, it’s his older brother’s turn.
Zeke’s hand reaches up to cup his face but the thrill he’s feeling right now dilutes his patience to naught, and he kicks him again, straight in the face with full force.
When he finally sees blood, the color is just as vibrant as his fervor.
“I don’t want you using your titan powers to heal, got it?”
“Ah–” he holds himself up on his hands and knees, letting the blood spill from his nose and drip down to the dirt. “Got...Got it.”
“Good.” And his next kick is to the ribs.
The sight of his eyebrows pinched together is only as good as the sound of his groans escaping his lips. He rolls over, curling up on himself to ease the sharp pain and Levi watches, shivers trailing down his spine, realizing that slicing him up in his titan form is nowhere near as satisfying as delivering each blow with his own hands and feet.
He lets him writhe in pain for a few more seconds before harshly nudging him with his foot.
“Get up.”
He lays on the ground, getting a few shallow breaths in before slowly trying to get up. He manages to stand, his body towering over him, only for Levi to grab him by his coat and knee him in the stomach.
The sound of air leaving his lungs feels exhilarating, like it’s too good to be true.
Zeke doubles over, his knees giving out from under him. As he gasps and coughs for air, Levi’s heart races, in awe of his willingness to be used like this. He grabs the back of his head, pulling on his hair and forcing him to look up at him. Blood drips down his nostrils and onto his lips and beard, staining it in a dark red.
“Hands behind your back,” he orders. Zeke does so, wincing in pain as he crosses them by the wrists. Levi gives him a moment to recollect himself while he gives him a good look, enamored with his exhausted and beaten face, the paleness of his skin a lovely contrast with the intensity of his blood. “You're pathetic, you know that?”
He takes a shallow, broken inhale through his mouth. “I can do worse.”
“Yeah?” he taunts. “What if I wanted to piss on you?”
“Only if you aim for my mouth.”
Even with how atrocious and bizarre the world is, both inside and outside the walls, Levi can only pinpoint a few times in his life where he’s genuinely been shocked—and this is unfortunately one of them.
“You're disgusting,” he says in exasperation, his eyes wide.
“And you're getting hard.”
His comment gets accompanied with a glance at the small growing bulge in front of him and Levi yanks his head back again, hard enough to earn him a loud hiss.
“Sorry, can you blame me? Seeing you in pain with blood all over you gets me excited.”
Zeke struggles to swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing. “At least we have something in common.”
It’s Levi’s turn to look now and he sees his dick slightly straining against his pants, thinking how much of an understatement that is.
Love born out of a mutual desire to see Zeke Jaeger get his ass beat. How repulsively romantic.
He takes a moment to undo his zipper before taking out his dick, glad he’s not fully hard yet.
“Ready?” he asks, and Zeke responds by opening his mouth.
So eager for piss in his mouth, he thinks, unable to hold back the disgusted look on his face.
He rests the tip on his bottom lip and forces himself to release. It begins as a light trickle into his mouth, then forming into a steady stream. His bladder slowly empties and goosebumps form on his arms as the pressure from inside him eases, not sure if that’s a cause for worry.
Pissing into someone’s mouth as a form of punishment is one thing, but he didn’t think he’d sort of like the feeling of it. His only excuse is that he’s pissing into his enemy’s mouth and the gratification that comes along with it is the sole influence. If he were to piss into anyone else’s mouth, he’d feel nothing.
That’s what he likes to tell himself.
As his pissing comes to a stop, he loosens his grip on his hair and gives his neck a break, allowing him to swallow it all down.
“You’ll take anything in that disgusting mouth of yours, huh?”
“Only from you,” he says, not a hint of disgust on his face.
Levi’s eyebrows pinch together. The further this goes on, the less he’s able to tell if this man is a weirdo that’s capable of doing this with anyone, or if Levi’s a special exception that he’s willing to do anything for. If it’s the latter, and he would honestly prefer that, then he can at least appreciate his disturbing infatuation.
“You’re flattering me too much,” he says, his grip tightening to keep him in place. “Open.”
Promptly and obediently, Zeke opens his mouth for him.
He plants his feet firmly on the ground and the hand laced through his blond hair grips tighter, keeping his other hand at the base and aligning himself with his mouth. He gently slides in, admiring the way his jaw falls open as he fills his mouth, that smothering warmth wrapping around his sensitive skin.
“No teeth,” he reminds him. “Try anything and I’ll be shoving my blade in your mouth instead.”
His mouth is too occupied to respond so he places his trust into his silence and those pretty, pleading blue eyes. Just as he begins to pull his head back, Zeke sucks in his cheeks and the slow drag of his warm, wet mouth across his dick makes Levi visibly shudder.
He chases after the sensation and tugs at his hair, thrusting his hips to meet halfway. Zeke’s mouth envelopes his entire length again, his nose tickling the hair at the base and forcing Levi to bite down on his lip. There’s a short pause before another roll of his hips drags his dick through his mouth, no amount of biting able to prevent the groan from escaping this time.
It’s such a distinct and licentious feeling that his knees start to feel weak. Ages have passed since he’s felt this selfishly good and hearing Zeke struggle to breath, seeing his face contorting in discomfort—it all adds to the arousal swimming through him. And he feels grateful, truly. The kicks to his jaw and nose are undoubtedly searing in pain right now, yet he’s enduring it, giving Levi the chance to stand here and see his dick slowly sink into his mouth.
The hand tangled in his hair starts to lose its strength too, succumbing to the pleasure. Though as he loosens his grip, he feels his self-control slipping into Zeke’s grasp, his compliant and submissive form deviating into something more bold and Levi doesn’t have it in him to keep him in place.
He tilts his head back, the undiscerning darkness of the tree tops the last thing he sees before his eyes flutter closed. The hand in his hair is gentle, acting nothing more than a steady leverage for his wobbly legs as Zeke takes the reins and sets his own rhythm.
His mouth takes him all in, his dick sitting comfortably at the back of his throat as he hums out a soft moan before moving his head back, his cheeks hollowing out and tightly brush against every nerve ending until he reaches the tip.
It’s good, so deliciously good. The strangled breaths coming out of his shattered nose only stirs him on even more and a few more bobs of his head and the relentless wet friction sends him overboard. His eyebrows knit together and he holds his breath, euphoria washing over his body as he spills all of himself into his mouth. Zeke goes down a few more times, making sure that he rides out every bit of his release before taking him out of his mouth.
Levi brings his head down, just in time to watch him swallow all of his cum, gulping it down effortlessly without wasting a single drop. Having this much pity for someone so unanimously should be a sin at this point.
He tucks himself back in and gives Zeke a minute to catch his breath, his own quiet shaky breath drowned out by his loud gasps of air. It takes him about a minute or so to finally speak, and even then he seems a bit lightheaded.
“Have I sacrificed enough of my dignity for you?”
The sudden urge to kick the living shit out of him appears again, but tenfold. His question ignites every nerve in his body and he can't understand why. Perhaps it’s that persistent boldness of his that keeps thinking it can challenge him at every step of the way, or maybe, it’s because Levi expected more from him.
But he keeps his anger at bay. For once, he wants to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Why? Was this your limit?” he asks, taunting. “All that talk and it only took a little bit of suffocation to break you?”
Zeke raises an eyebrow, chest still heaving. “Break me? You’ve barely put a scratch on me.”
His response mitigates his flared nerves by a fraction.
“Then there’s no need to ask if I’m done with you yet.”
“My curiosity can be a bit impatient sometimes,” he says in between breaths, his tone rather cheeky. “My apologies.”
He stares down at him until his foot swings, striking him right in the stomach. Zeke folds under his feet, his agonized scream turning into a low, restrained growl as he clutches his bruised abdomen.
Levi admits his hastiness blindly interfered but at the very least, he’s not some half-assed piece of shit. Doesn’t mean he’s going to apologize, but he does give him a moment for the pain to subside.
“Look at me.”
Zeke does so, slowly unraveling to look up at the man dealing all his suffering, only to have a foot slam against his chest, throwing him on the ground. He lies on his back as Levi stomps his foot down on his face.
“Hands over your head. One on top of the other.”
Like the docile monkey he’s proven to be, he raises his arms and crosses them by the wrists. Levi takes one of his blades out and he can see a hint of panic rising on his face. The blade comes down and stabs him through the wrists, a deep growl rising at the back of his throat as it sinks into his flesh, blood pouring out.
“You can never be too cautious,” he mutters to himself.
He takes out another blade and steps back, standing over him as he positions the sharp edge right below his chin.
The excruciating pain from his fresh wound has his nostrils flaring, taking deep breaths to calm himself as he knows what’s about to come.
Levi lets his blade linger before slowly bringing it down. Sharp metal cuts through the white fabric with ease, ripping it in half along with his skin underneath. He doesn’t press on his skin too harshly, but it still elicits a tormented hiss that steadily turns into the closest thing he can classify as a whine.
When he reaches the hem of his shirt, a shallow laceration runs down his entire torso and he uses his blade to move each side of the shirt away.
He marvels at the beauty in front of him—blood dripping down his torso, chest rising and falling, his bruised face looking up at him with such a delirious, yet carnal apprehension.
Levi’s jaw clenches, the image exciting him a little too much.
Though the arousal forming deep in his gut doesn’t appear to be anywhere near comparable to the one in between Zeke’s legs, the strained fabric of his pants begging for some kind of release. He presses the bottom of his boot against his dick and watches him as his chest rises, his eyelids struggling to stay open.
“You really weren’t lying when you said you like the sadistic type.”
“Of course not,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Though I’m beginning to think you’re actually going to kill me.”
He watches him carefully. “No you’re not.”
There’s a pause.
“I guess I have more trust in you than I’d like to admit.”
Levi glares down at him, the grip on his blade viciously tight.
There’s so much unapologetic sincerity in those words he just uttered, and Levi wants nothing more than to kill him right here and now. His trust in him is quite literally below ground, buried under six feet of dirt. It should only be coherent that Zeke has the same judgement.
But he doesn’t.
Levi places his blade back in, deciding not to concede to temptation. He has no intention of prying into whatever bullshit made Zeke come to the conclusion to trust him.
He lifts his foot off his dick and walks away, taking off his cape and jacket and neatly folding them before placing them down on the nearby crate. He scoops up the canteen from the ground and walks back over to him, placing it down before stripping off his maneuver gear, right by them as a precaution. He doesn’t put it past Zeke to try and kill him mid-sex.
As he stands over him now, he slowly undoes a few of the harnesses from his belt and revels in Zeke’s drowsy, mesmerized expression looking up at him. He can feel his eyes undressing him and it makes Levi all the more inclined not to give him what he wants.
Torturing him is what he does best after all.
He lowers himself, his knees hitting dirt as he straddles his waist, his thighs comfortably pressing on either side and making Zeke react immediately. He takes a sharp inhale, the pressure on his groin probably feeling divine right now and Levi sympathizes, the double layer of clothing between them feels too tantalizing to bear. But he stays patient.
He undoes his belt and slips it out, sets it aside, and brings down his pants and underwear to his upper thighs; just enough room to work with. He grabs the canteen and pours some of it on his fingers, spreading it around to coat them evenly before leaning forward a bit and moving his hand behind him.
Zeke’s gaze follows every movement and Levi stares back, completely and shamelessly enamored with that greedy, eager look in his eyes that he caves in, allowing himself to indulge in all of his attention.
He circles the rim of his hole, gentle and tentative, before slowly inserting his middle finger. It slips in without much pain but he gives himself time to get used to the intrusion, and once he does, he sneaks in another slicked finger, that familiar sensation of tightness finally starting to emerge.
Though it’s still insulting to what he actually craves and he’s adamant in his pursuit to get that as he repeatedly glides his fingers in and out, scissoring and stretching his insides while his thoughts begin to roam toward Zeke.
He’s seen how well-endowed he was when he bathed and he’s seeing right now how obscenely his erection is straining against his pants. But having it inside him is a different story and he’s not too sure he’s keen on waiting to read it.
He confidently adds a third finger while Zeke silently watches him from below, his demeanor rather calm but the sound of his uneven breathing proving otherwise.
So dreadfully neglected, he thinks. For a brief second, he contemplates on giving Zeke a bit of relief, but those thoughts of mercy dissipate as he sabotages himself almost instantly. His hips roll up in a vain attempt to feel some friction but Levi responds with a hand on his waist as he uses his body weight to keep him down on the ground. It earns him a sigh that sounds like he’s already given up.
“Teasing me until the very end, huh?”
“As if I’d ever give you what you want,” he says, trying to focus on his words rather than his fingers.
Zeke tilts his head. “And what is it that I want?”
It’s an obvious attempt at flirting but surprisingly, the growing lust he’s feeling right now is permeating his judgement and he decides to play along.
“To man-handle me,” he says, his own words causing his breath to hitch. “Throw me on the ground and fuck me until I’m screaming.”
His face falls, as if he’s disappointed in his answer. “I’m not the aggressive type.”
“You want me to believe that after you got off to me beating the shit out of you?”
“I said I was a masochist,” he clarifies. “I never said I liked hurting my lover.”
Lover leaves his lips and the blood pumping through his body runs cold, his fingers coming to a stop. Everything that’s happened until this point feels like it’s been erased, like everything is going back in reverse and rewinding all the work that’s been done, all in this very second.
“What?" he asks, daring him to repeat himself.
“Am I wrong?”
His instincts tell him to finish him, to slice off his neck and put an end to his miserable life, right here, right now. He doesn’t want to hear another word from him because he’s so unbelievably angry at the sheer audacity of his ego to be saying this to him right now—yet his fingers dig deeper, stretching him wider, betraying him so effortlessly.
Even when he pretends, he can’t convince himself enough to lie about what he really wants.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve thinking you're more than just a body for me to fuck."
“I know I mean nothing to you," he says. “But when making love, I prefer to call my partner my lover, is all.”
He sneers. “This is what you call making love?”
“No, not entirely, but..” he trails off, staring at the treetops above him. “If you gave me the chance, I’d love to show you.”
The more he runs his mouth, the less he feels any anger toward him. If they have to stay in this forest any longer he thinks Zeke might actually get a laugh out of him.
“You’ve gotten even more delusional,” he adds. “Did I give you a concussion?”
Zeke sighs. “No, my delusion is entirely conscious.”
“My condolences.”
Zeke cracks a small, pained smile at his deadpan humor once again and Levi forces himself to not dwell on it, disliking the strange feeling festering in his chest.
He inserts a fourth finger, the stinging sensation an easy distraction. Zeke remains quiet as he uses the next minute or so to quickly stretch himself the slightest bit more before taking them all out, the emptiness feeling worse than he imagined.
He positions himself a little lower, trying to keep his eagerness subdued. He slowly undoes Zeke’s belt and unbuttons his pants, his heart unnaturally beating faster at the sight of his cock popping out and laying flat on his stomach, hard and throbbing. His eyelids feel heavier at the bit of cum already leaking out of his tip and if he were honest with himself, the risky decision of letting his guard down for the night seems selfishly worthwhile.
Before rushing in, he takes the canteen and pours more oil in his hand, setting it aside and wrapping his palm around his dick, but the strained groan of his name that leaves Zeke’s throat sends a shock right through his body, freezing him in place.
“Levi.”
His eyes widen, unable to comprehend what he’s feeling right now.
If he was told a few weeks prior that he would crave to hear this man moan his name, he’d have Zeke’s severed head on a stick within a heartbeat.
But now, Levi knows he only has himself to blame.
The way his body reacted so vehemently feels treacherous and naive for allowing himself to be dragged this far into the deep end. It’s sickening, but if he really felt remorseful for himself, he’d put up a better fight and end this.
But he doesn’t.
His wrist moves, giving Zeke a simple upwards stroke, generously coating his dick in oil and blissfully watching him as his eyes roll back from the sudden pleasure. His hand slides back down to the base, gently squeezing and drawing out another groan that has Levi’s head spinning, arousal quickly building up between his legs.
Having him under his control like this is addicting and he aches to hear that deep voice utter his name again, for another desperate and begging moan to escape his lips. But he holds off, just until he can bury his dick inside him first.
He positions himself further up and lifts his hips, moving his hand behind him and aligning his dick right under his entrance.
As the tip pushes against his hole, both their breaths temporarily cease. The stretch of his ring is unbelievably harsh, but he tries blocking it out, lowering his hips little by little to accommodate the overly thick cock sinking into him. But the pressure enveloping his lower half quickly becomes too much for him to handle and he has no choice but to swim back up, annoyed at himself, but even worse, annoyed at Zeke.
He looks too amused for Levi’s liking.
“What’s with that fuckin’ face?”
“I can’t enjoy myself now?” he asks defensively.
“Not at the expense of my inconvenience.”
“I said my type are the petite ones, did I not? That should’ve been your first warning,” he says, rather breathless. “No matter how many fingers you use, it won’t help.”
Zeke couldn’t be any more transparent with his intentions, even if he died trying.
“I’m not letting your disgusting hands anywhere near me.”
“Suit yourself.”
Levi doesn’t like the implication of his words nor the tone of them. If he knows what his own verdict is, then another person’s opinion shouldn't affect him. And it’s not. It just pisses him off. Not enough to get under his skin but enough to stay on top of it.
He tries to regulate his breathing; taking in a deep inhale, then a slow exhale, and empties any doubts in his head as he pushes through the pressure and sinks his hips all the way down to the base.
Pain immediately consumes him. It spreads throughout his entire body, his limbs beginning to numb and the tips of his fingers feeling strange and tingly. He bites down on his lower lip, eyes shut tight as he rides out the excruciating tension.
He doesn’t know how long it takes before the pain eases, but he eventually adjusts. Air leaves his burning lungs in a long, shaky exhale and his body relaxes, leaving nothing behind except for the filling sensation of his cock warmly inside him.
And the feeling seems to be mutual because when he opens his eyes, Zeke has gone completely pliant underneath him, a light blush staining his cheeks.
He places his hands on his lower abdomen, feeling the tight muscle under his finger tips. It’s perfect leverage as his palms press down, lifting his hips up and slowly dragging his cock out. His eyebrows furrow in a strange mix of pain and pleasure and when he lowers himself back down, his jaw falls slack at the current of lust pumping through every crevice of his body.
He lets his eyes flutter closed as he begins to ride him; his hips rising and falling, his tight walls dragging up and down his cock and feeling every vein and curve inside him. Zeke’s breathing sounds heavier and more erratic than before, and he can tell he’s already close from the way his cock pulsates inside him.
The build-up is slow and he keeps it that way, dragging himself up to the tip and then down all the way to the base, feeling his blond hair brush against his bare skin each time and loving the constant, steady pleasure that coils itself deep in his stomach.
Zeke seems to be loving it as well but not as much, his stiff body underneath him struggling to keep himself together.
“Levi,” he breathlessly murmurs. He rolls his head to the side and presses his face into the sleeve of his bicep, his knees bending until his thighs press against Levi’s back. “I can’t last much longer.”
He doesn’t have to tell him to know that, he can feel his cock twitching inside him.
“Ending the fun so soon?” he asks, rolling his hips in response and watching him take a sharp inhale at the slightest movement. He gives him a glare, not too content with his teasing.
“Don’t sound so arrogant when you’ve already had your turn.”
“Ah, how could I forget,” he says, feeling strangely playful. “Not really fair of me, is it?”
He leans forward to change his angle, his hands slithering up higher where his palms meet the soft muscle of his chest, a slight impulse revealing itself as he gives his pecks a light squeeze, kneading into them before lifting his hips up.
He moves in sync with his own breathing; all the way in and then all the way out, the muscles in his thighs slowly starting to burn despite the leverage his arms give him. As his pace quickens, he can feel Zeke finally reaching his limit; his breathy moans silenced as he holds his breath, his head tilted back, his hips slightly raising as cum spills into Levi.
His insides get filled to the brim, the warm liquid melding into the walls of his body as if it’s always meant to be there. It feels so right, so perfect, and he’d be lying if he said this isn’t the exact sensation he yearned to feel inside him again.
He rides out the height of his pleasure, milking him dry as his body relaxes beneath him, his heartbeat slowing down right under his palm. While Zeke catches his breath, the relief on his face reminds Levi that he’s nowhere near finishing. He’s still incredibly hard and the sloppy feeling of cum and oil inside him spurs the intense lust pooling in his lower belly, but the painful burning in his thighs and knees is starting to overlap to a point he can’t ignore.
He tries to ease it as much as he can by using the strength in his arms to lift himself up, and it works for a few thrusts until a buzzing sensation spreads over the entirety of his legs. Millions of needles prickle his skin and he curses under his breath, his blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he curls his fingers.
The pink marks on his chest wring out a hiss from Zeke and he’s the first to break the silence.
“Are you close?” he asks, wincing at the nails still embedded into his skin.
As if to prove a point, Levi pushes himself up and ignores his comatose legs, and it goes innocuously well until he has to bring himself back down.
“Mind–” his dick brushes against the sweet spot he’s been trying so hard to touch and he gasps, barely finishing his sentence “–your business.”
“My dick inside you is my business.”
Levi glares right at him, fully prepared to slice his head off and fuck his dead body if need be. He knows he’s being unreasonable, the overstimulation probably irritating him, but he can’t bring himself to give a fuck. The only thing circulating in his head right now is that deliciously arousing pleasure he just felt deep in his gut.
All his instincts scream at him to chase after it and cling to it like his life depends on it, and he wants to, he really does. But on his next attempt, his legs can barely lift him halfway up and he curses under his breath again, infuriated and embarrassed.
“Your legs are shaking.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re tired, let me help you.”
“Shut up.” Similar to that of a child, everything that Zeke says or does, Levi's first impulse is to fight against it and prove him wrong. “There’s not a chance I’m letting you get on top, you piece of–”
His legs tremble on their way up and just as they’re about to give out, Zeke’s hips snap up. The feeling of electricity shooting throughout his whole body is so intense it reverberates his core and his reaction is too involuntary to hold back. Goosebumps cover his arms and his back arches, unable to hold back a moan escaping his lips.
“Having second thoughts?”
His bent joints plead him to forfeit his control over to Zeke, to get the chance to feel his dick slam into him again, but his ego tells him otherwise.
He grits his teeth. “No.”
Zeke sighs, closing his eyes and choosing to not say anything further. Ironically, his decision to stay quiet pisses Levi off even more, but not in the way he wants it to. He needs Zeke to pester him, to run his mouth and annoy him into oblivion so he really won’t have any second thoughts on the matter.
He doesn’t do that though. He lays there quietly, waiting for Levi to succumb on his own.
Clever bastard.
His palms press down on his chest, psyching himself up as he manages to get about half way up before sliding back down. He tries again, then again after that, but each attempt is less satisfying than the last and the frustration builds. The fatigue engulfing his entire lower half has completely numbed him, his legs buzzing and begging for some type of relief.
He bites his lip and leans back on Zeke’s thighs, refusing to let out any obvious sounds of irritation. He looks down at him and wonders how he’s allowed himself to get this far.
Every waking moment he imagined it over and over again; the way he severs his head, letting it fall to the ground with a loud thud, watching it roll next to his feet, pure joy and relief enveloping him for the years of misery and revenge that consumed him. It was a comforting thought that he always went back to, no matter how far apart the world split them or what any bastard inside the walls told him.
And now, nothing has changed except for his selfish desire putting a temporary hold on his death.
His disheveled hair and his bloody, bruised up face look beautiful on him and he’s been so compliant, so well behaved, it almost tames him enough to allow Zeke to fuck him senseless. It’s less about ego now, not feeling too bothered with the other taking control and handling him—it’s what he enjoys about sex the most anyway.
Just not with Zeke. Especially Zeke.
Giving him more, if not all, control makes his cock throb but fills his heart with dread. What he’s been doing up until now has been dangerous and he shouldn’t be experimenting with the limit just because he feels bold. This might’ve been his entire plan from the very beginning, all the way back during the airship, and this could all very well be an act that he’s put up to wrap him around his finger like a fool and kill him.
The thought of everyone in the walls being wiped out because of his horny negligence is almost comedic.
He sits there, staring at Zeke’s relaxed, expressionless face and takes in all his features just like he did when they were in the carriage together and he realizes how much he wanted him, even back then.
Something in him finally snaps, a decision already so brittle that it just needed a little more force.
He grabs the empty handle that was thrown to the side and brings it to the blade embedded in Zeke’s hands, pushing down on it until it gives a heavy click. He lifts his hips up one last time to lean forward, yanking the blade out as a trail of blood follows it to the ground next to them, Zeke hissing at the sudden pain.
“Take advantage of this and I’ll skin you alive.”
The implication of his words slowly sinks and once it’s settled, the blood pooling in his hands begins to evaporate into thin air, as does the line of blood going down his torso and the blood smeared on his face, wounds and lacerations healing instantly.
“I’m not,” he says, wincing as he brings his overstrained arms down. “I’m more disappointed in you thinking I’d be the type of man to run away or kill you instead of having you properly finish.”
The shock on Levi’s face is brief but he’s quick on recollecting himself.
“Such a gentleman,” he mocks, hating how he actually managed to impress him. “Show me how good of a man you are then.”
“Only if you can trust me for the next few seconds.”
“Not even when I’m dead,” he replies, but his tone is light and Zeke picks up on it rather well.
He takes his coat off first, Levi watching him with curiosity as each arm slips out of its sleeve. The coat lays there, sprawled out on the filthy ground and Zeke sits up, wrapping a cautious arm around his waist and bringing him in close.
“Hold on.”
He stiffens for a moment, wanting to protest despite Levi inciting him in the first place. His arms wrap around his neck and his thighs tighten their hold around his waist, their bodies lightly pressing against each other, and while their close proximity is foreign and strange, a fleeting thought crosses his mind about how nice it would feel if their clothes weren’t in the way, their bare skin touching and feeling one another’s warmth so intimately.
Zeke carefully turns them over, his cock still adjoined between them as he places Levi down on his coat.
Blood finally circulates through his legs again and the relief of gaining back the sensation in them tells him he made the right decision. It gives him a weird tingly feeling but it’s monotonous and tame in contrast to the one in his chest right now.
He thinks; no matter how subtle his kind gestures are, or how charming his softly spoken words are said, or how attractive his handsome face makes him feel—there’s nothing he can do to amend the ache in his heart. He’ll never forgive him for what he’s done, and for all he knows, what he’s planning to do.
They’re not on the same side and never will be, and he doesn’t care that they’re not. He’ll be dead by the end of this camping trip anyway. But he still wants to understand why Zeke does certain things when he knows he won’t get anything out of it. What purpose does it serve for him to observe something so simple and irrelevant such as his hatred for the uncleanliness, and then go out of his way to accommodate him?
Zeke’s arm slips out from under his waist. His hands busy themselves with his own shirt, taking it off and throwing it to the side, not giving him any time to think about that answer.
Instead, his focus isn’t on Zeke’s inability to mend his heart but how quickly he can make it pulse.
The sight of him towering above, completely naked from the waist up, has his head spinning. The fleeting thought from before returns but completely retracts itself at the sudden feeling of being overwhelmed. And when he tries to lean forward, his stomach flips and his body screams at him that it’s too close, too intimate, too soon.
“Wait," he says, his hands pushing against his chest. “Pull out.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.
Zeke waits while Levi stares back, unsure of how to approach this without disclosing anything.
“I’m not letting you fuck me in this position,” he answers, vague and concise.
And with complete sincerity, he asks, “Is my face that ugly?”
He almost cracks a smile. Out of all things, he didn’t expect Zeke to pull out a wild card and insult himself like this so unprovoked. But if it means shifting the attention away from himself, he’s more than happy to play along.
“Yeah, I might actually choke on my vomit.”
He frowns. “Ouch.”
Whether he’s serious or not, Levi’s not sure, but he listens to his request and pulls out. After having him inside his ass for so long, the slow drag of his cock feels insane and he momentarily regrets asking him of this, the desolate feeling it leaves him is almost unbearable. But he cuts his whining and awkwardly turns over to position himself on all fours. His hands and knees are firmly on his coat and only now does he realize how exposed he feels, and in more ways than one.
The blade is still within arm’s reach if all goes to hell and Zeke decides to foolishly take advantage of the control Levi has given him. Though the problem doesn’t lie with the lack of weaponry itself but whether Levi will have the strength to utilize it.
And he hopes from the deepest depth of his heart that he doesn’t regret his decision, because the second he feels Zeke’s hands grab his hips, his body goes limp.
His skin tingles where his hands are and it spreads throughout his whole body, his eyes rolling back and his cock twitching in excitement. The shame that runs through him is visceral and warranted but he can’t bring himself to care when he’s being handled like this.
His hands feel soft, yet strong and coarse, the heat radiating from his skin making him appreciate them even more once they leave his hips, moving down to his ass. Zeke gives it all his attention, squeezing his cheeks as his wet cock slides in between them. His hands gently knead, thumbs pressing into his flesh and opening him up wider, pleasuring himself with his body and teasing him to his heart’s content.
Levi stays quiet, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly turned into a frown. He can feel the light blush slowly spreading across his face, his quickening heartbeat unable to play innocent either.
“You’re just gonna fuck around with me, aren’t you?” he says from over his shoulder.
Zeke’s hands stop to hear him out but only for a moment as they slip up back to his waist.
“I’ve hardly played around,” he says, his tone confused. “I take it you’re not into foreplay?”
“With you? Never.”
Each response seems like leeway for his hands to get to where they want to be and his suspicion comes true when one of his hands moves down and wraps around his dick.
“Oh? Why’s that?” he asks. His hand gently strokes him, the light and soothing motion having Levi biting down on his lip, trying to stifle a groan. “Sounds to me like you’re enjoying it.”
Levi can barely give a response back, his mind too preoccupied with Zeke’s hand between his legs. He is enjoying it, but a titan killing him is more likely to happen than him admitting that.
Zeke doesn’t need him to admit it though. His shaking legs and heavy breathing are enough to let him know that Levi relishes every caress of his cock. Each stroke is slight, gliding over his sensitive skin. It’s barely enough to get him off properly, yet just enough to wring out all the noises he wants to hear from him.
He lets out the first of many, an almost inaudible groan underneath him, quiet and aroused. He’s slowly falling apart in his grasp little by little and he thinks he might actually melt as he feels his wet tip press against his asshole, aligning himself as he continues to stroke him.
It’s perfect, everything feels perfect and he waits for Zeke to fill him up because he’s physically incapable of holding back anymore. But once it becomes obvious that he’s reaching his limit, Zeke takes away his hand entirely.
His eyes widen.
It was there. It was right there.
All that build up, all that accumulated arousal, only for it to vanish and leave his body within a blink of an eye.
The feeling is so inconceivably horrible his immediate reaction is to whip around and give him an earful.
“You fuckin’ bastard, I’ll ki–”
Zeke’s hands grab his hips, palms and fingers pressing into his flesh as he pulls him back and violently slams into him—Levi’s arms giving out almost instantly.
He lurches forward, an acute mixture of pain and pleasure surging through his entire body, swallowing him whole. It’s too sudden, too harsh. He feels faint, white stars painting his vision as he presses his forehead onto his coat, trying to absorb the shock as much as he can.
“Sorry, captain. Was that too much?”
The sound of blood rushing through his ears muffles his voice too much for him to understand what he’s really saying, but responding to him is his last priority. He takes a handful of his coat, gripping it until his knuckles turn pale, trying his best to calm himself first before he even thinks about cursing him out.
Deep, slow breaths that go in through his nose and out through his mouth seemingly do the trick and while he wants to ride out the rest of the pain in peace, Zeke isn’t too keen on letting him recover.
He drags his cock out, his bruised walls aching at the slow movement but somehow enjoying the extra sensitivity his insides have now. As his tip reaches the end, he fully expects him to slam into him again so he prepares himself for that wave of pain to shoot through him a second time, but it never comes.
Zeke pushes in slower than when he dragged out. The feeling of a thick intrusion fills him up little by little and as if that alone wasn’t enough to drive him insane, he feels the vibrations of Zeke’s hushful moan travel through him. It stays there, dwelling and seeping into his bones until he literally feels intoxicated, knowing that from now on, Zeke is in charge.
The thought of that makes his cock harder but when he arches his back in response, his legs instinctively spread apart only to quickly get reminded of the restriction his pants still have around his thighs. His hand moves back to push them down but with how tightly all the harnesses are wrapped around his legs, they barely budge and his frustration escalates until Zeke notices.
“I got it,” he says softly, his voice all too gentle.
He pulls out again but unlike before, his cock leaves him entirely and the empty, unfilling sensation feels downright cruel. Levi uncaringly lets out an annoyed groan while Zeke's hands begin to work at the intricate mess of the harnesses.
He deals with the buckles at the front of his thighs first; four of them in total.
One comes undone, then slowly but surely, the second does as well. By now, Levi should’ve snapped at him to move faster—he couldn’t care less that he can’t really see what he’s doing, that’s not a good enough excuse to be going at this slow of a pace—but he hasn’t.
He’s painfully aware of the way his hands deliberately brush against his thighs, the way he lingers and pretends that his fingers aren’t trying to feel him more than they need to while undoing the harness. Every slight touch has his face feeling a bit warmer and his breathing a little more shallow, and he can’t help but wonder just how deprived of another person’s touch he is for him to be acting like this.
Zeke moves on to the last buckle and Levi holds his breath when he hears it click. He smoothly pulls the harnesses down his thighs, under his knees, and quickly takes off his boots before pulling them past his ankles. His pants and underwear come right off and they get placed with all of his other belongings on the crate.
Zeke is still adamant on not letting anything touch the dirt and while Levi feels himself blindly appreciating the repeated gesture, his mind is entirely too focused on the cold air brushing against his bare skin. It gives him a light shiver but the heat of Zeke’s body is quick to warm him. His cock pushes into his rim, sliding all the way in, and as their thighs press against each other his hands are back on his hips, Levi arching his back, spreading his legs just the way he wanted.
“There you go,” he murmurs.
Without meaning to, he lets out a breath that turns into a soft whine. What little strength he had left inside him is no longer there and Zeke takes it as an invitation to somehow deplete it even further. The innocent tenderness disappears and replaces itself with an overwhelming arousal instead, one that’s been building up for too long. Goosebumps form all over Levi’s body and he bites his knuckles, his heart beating faster in excitement as he allows his hips to be pulled back more aggressively.
Each slow drag of his cock feels like it’s digging deeper and deeper, each one more invasive than the last, yet he somehow misses that one spot Levi desperately wants him to hit. Zeke only grazes it, almost purposefully. He fucks him, alternating his pace and making Levi lose his mind; allowing him to near his climax but then pulling away just enough to make him feel delirious.
Levi doesn’t have the voice to tell him to go faster, but Zeke grants him one thrust in particular that sends such a euphoric shock down his spine it prevents him from processing anything besides the heat of his cock pressing against his walls and the rough hands bruising his hips.
He tries hard to keep his focus, to ground himself so he doesn’t lose himself entirely. But that fear can only hold onto that feeling of comfort for so long before it slips, and when it finally does, it’s no longer recognizable. It spirals, and he thinks about every single thing that’s been permeating in the back of his mind; whose skin did his calloused hands touch, whose insides did he stretch open every night, whose clothes fell to the floor as he went down on them. Just how many partners have experienced this exact feeling right now?
His toes curl, and as one hand bunches up in the fabric of the coat beneath him, the other hand moves behind him, squeezing Zeke’s wrist.
For some reason, he can’t imagine anyone.
“Harder,” he breathes.
Levi’s sure he’s loud enough to be heard but his request seems to fall on deaf ears. He sets aside the slight embarrassment that has his cheeks flaring up and attempts it a second time, only for Zeke to ruin his mood all together.
“Hm? I can’t hear you, captain.”
His nails dig into his wrist, anger seeping into his bones until it feels bitter enough to bruise. He can’t possibly think it’s a good idea to be pulling this kind of nonsense right now. Levi has patience but that patience can only go so far.
“Harder, you stupid monkey.”
“I told you I don’t like being aggressive.”
And now, Levi feels like gutting him alive.
“I don’t give a fuck what you like. I’m not repeating myself.”
Levi waits for his decision, hoping it’ll be a smart one—and when Zeke doesn’t say anything, only leans forward enough to press his body against Levi’s back, placing his forearm on the ground for leverage, the other still on his hip, and whispers in his ear—he knows it will be.
“If that's really what you want.”
Slow and gentle thrusts are abandoned for a much more relentless pace, each one feeling harder and faster than the last. Levi lets out a quiet groan, the grip on Zeke’s wrist slowly weakening. He closes his eyes, shutting off his senses to feel and hear every second of the man on top of him, letting the heat of his larger body consume him until he’s completely melted under him. And ever so slowly, the swirling ball of pleasure deep in his gut grows brighter, more chaotic and volatile.
As soon as his hand slips from his wrist, the whole world feels like it's tilting under him.
Zeke reaches down and wraps his own hand around Levi’s cock, his warm palm gliding against his burning hot skin as he gives him short, quick strokes. His toes curl at the touch, too sudden for him to properly digest. He can literally feel his cock throbbing in his hand and each stroke is just a painful reminder of the desperation of finally wanting release.
He closes his eyes tighter, white little stars painting his vision.
He can no longer hear the fire crackling or the quiet hum of the forest, all of it drowned out by their breathy moans and the vulgar, wet slapping of skin. The indecency of it all only ignites him further as the pleasure builds all the way up to his throat, tightening him into a choke hold. Every part of him resists the moan that’s trying to turn itself into a whimper, but Zeke’s timing on things never seems to fail.
“Levi.”
He bites his lip, feeling feverish at the neediness in his tone. He wants to hear it again, but closer. He wants that desperate, deep voice next to his ear while he lays on his back, his legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him in deeper and making the both of them so painfully delirious with lust that it’s almost nauseating.
If only he never made up that excuse at the beginning of all this, maybe he would’ve gotten this little fantasy of his.
But Zeke’s foul mouth quietly cussing under his breath pulls him out of his thoughts, back into the reality that already feels like a fantasy, and he realizes he’s wavering.
He grows pliant, giving in without a fight, and a smothered whine escapes him as he finally releases. All the pent up pleasure seeps out of his cock and cum spills out of him with every thrust. Zeke pounding into him is all his senses know or care for until he's down from his high.
Zeke loses his rhythm not too long after, but Levi’s extra sensitive now and each slam of his hips is entirely too overstimulating, until he finally feels Zeke filling him a second time.
Like gears in a machine, everything begins to slow down before it comes to a complete stop.
His hips give a few more gentle thrusts before ceasing his movements entirely. His heavy breath is in his ear as he stays hunched over him, accumulating heat against his back, until he picks himself up and slowly slides himself out.
Even with Zeke allowing him to adjust, everything feels surreal and he’s disgusted now that his needs have been satiated and met. Cum and oil drip down his inner thigh and he desperately wants to get up and go to the water barrel to clean himself.
But they barely have enough water as is and Zeke is already a few steps ahead of him as he comes over with something in his hands. Levi brings his head up, his shaky arms lifting himself up. He feels a wet cloth wipe away the liquids dripping out and he has to close his eyes in shame.
“Great, now I have to get my ass wiped like a baby,” he mutters, quietly complaining to himself.
“It’s called aftercare,” he responds.“ You don't like foreplay nor getting pampered either, I see.”
“Not by you.”
“You like getting fucked by me though.”
The after-sex clarity seems to be in full effect right now and Zeke couldn’t be anymore repulsive to him. He doesn’t have the energy to move just yet though, so he still lets him do the cleaning despite voicing his displeasure.
“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”
“I do, but I’m having too much fun right now.”
He sighs. Every insult he spews out somehow eludes him. He’s too worn out at the moment to put effort into their usual childish bickering.
Levi begins the silence and Zeke continues with it, quietly finishing up cleaning him and handing over his clothes.
He gets dressed but not without taking note of Zeke staring at him. Even after all that’s happened, after everything that’s been given to him on a bloody, silver plate; he still takes more than he needs.
Greedy bastard.
But after a few seconds of him not doing anything entirely, not even putting his own clothes on for the sake of modesty, he realizes.
His shirt has been completely ruined with blood and his coat is covered in cum. And Levi’s fairly certain they didn’t allow Zeke to bring any spare clothing.
“Sorry about that, I was having too much fun,” he mocks.
“Sacrifices have to be made,” he sighs, not sounding all that upset. “Still, it’ll get a little chilly with only half my clothes.”
“I’m sure it will.”
There’s a pause.
“Is cuddling with you an option?”
Levi slips on his boots and promptly begins putting on all his harnesses. “There’s still some oil left. Pour it over your head and light yourself on fire.”
Zeke whistles. “A simple no would’ve sufficed."
He walks off to the water barrel to clean up, Levi not pestering him for wasting the little remaining water they have left when he’s too disgusted at their bodily fluids to complain.
When he’s done strapping himself up, he takes his turn to wash his hands as well, only to hear the tent rustling as he passes by. The skittish and covert whispering is followed by a harsh hush, revealing everything that Levi needs to know.
Even with all the alcohol they drank, it still wasn’t enough to knock them out for the night.
His cheeks feel warm.
Perhaps it wasn’t the lack of alcohol from the scouts but their own lack of self awareness. There were definitely too loud for their own good.
Save for the slight embarrassment, he’s still grateful his soldiers were on guard tonight, just in case Zeke’s promise of having him properly finish was shrewdly hollow. A bit of gossip outweighs the potential loss of life, he supposes.
He moves past the tent and towards the barrels.
“Do you want some tea?” he asks, washing off the dirt and cum off his coat.
“Coffee,” Levi corrects him. “You need something to wash down my piss anyway.”
“I mean, it wasn’t all that bad to be honest–”
“Not another word.”
Zeke just laughs, ignoring the clear disgust on Levi’s face.
Regardless of whether he’s serious or not, he doesn’t want to know the answer; the action alone was upsetting enough.
He washes his hands and goes to sit down by the fire. Zeke wrings his coat dry and throws it on a crate near the fire to dry before starting on the coffee.
If it wasn’t for the evidence of tonight; Zeke’s lack of clothing and the slight uncomfortable throbbing in his ass, everything would appear as normal, as if they’re going about their usual nightly routine.
But it’s not their usual routine. It’s not the same repetitive and banal night that’s been occurring for the past month. Something about being aware of that, about actively changing it and performing such an extremity out of all things—it’s incredibly disorienting.
“Did you enjoy tonight?”
Apparently not disorienting enough for Zeke.
Levi sighs.
“You never stop talking.”
“I’m rarely this talkative with anyone else.”
He pours the coffee into each of their cups and hands one over to him. Levi takes it, the heat quickly warming up his hands from the cold night.
He blows on his coffee, anxious to take a sip already.
“Is that supposed to make me feel special?”
Zeke shrugs, taking a seat. “It can, if you want it to.”
Not once has this man given it a rest. He wants to be fed up, and he certainly is, but he can’t help commend him for his persistent flirting.
If he can even call it that.
“It was good,” he says, tentative of his next line. ‘Could’ve been better though.”
“Oh? How so?”
“None of your business.”
“Come on now, how am I supposed to improve for next time if you won’t tell me?”
“Next time?” he asks in exasperation. “I don’t think you’ll be alive by then.”
Zeke falters. He doesn’t show it, but Levi can see it in his eyes; hesitation, regret, longing—all of it consolidating behind a mask, a façade incapable of telling its secrets.
“Yeah,” he says, pausing. “Probably not.”
A deep-rooted desire, as ugly and mutinous as it feels, emerges from his heart.
A desire that’s beyond the bounds of possibility—a simple next time.
But he knows he won’t live to see the day for such a thing.